The Cavern

The Cavern

Jackson had been looking forward to this camping trip with his friends for months. After a delightful night of stargazing and sharing creepy stories in the dark, Jackson woke up early and decided to go for a swim at a nearby lake. Stripping to just his swimming trunks, he cannonballed into the water. Shortly after landing, however, he noticed an odd substance dye the clear lake a sickly green. Before he could rush back to the shore and leave, he felt an odd sensation in his shorts. “Wha-OH!”

“Nrgh, urgh…!” Jackson gritted his teeth as he felt something slowly slide and invade his tight hole. His cheeks grew red both from the arousal and shame of something slithering inside of him. However, he couldn’t move; completely powerless to stop this invader. “H-Help…” he managed to wheeze out. The camp was too far for any of his friends to help. All Jackson could do was throw his head back and let out another low moan as the slimy creature reached his brain.

“Mm…oh…” The entity engulfed the entirety of Jackson’s brain, hijacking his personality and memories for espionage and impersonation. After a few more shudders and stretching, the entity cracked his new neck and opened his new eyes. “You’ve got friends here,” he said, cackling to himself. “They’ll be nice vessels for some friends of my own.” He made his way over to the shore, not bothering to hide the hard-on in his trunks, and walked to the camp.

“Guys, the water feels great!” he called out with Jackson’s good-humored nature.

Daddy’s Punishment

Ryan cocked his eyebrow as he glanced up at his son’s shut room. Once again, the sounds of giggling and teasing pierced through the house’s walls and rang in Ryan’s ears. His son, Michael, was spending another day of his Spring Break with his girlfriend, Veronica. Ever since their senior year of high school, the two had been inseparable. Now, in their final year college after searching for programs that would suit them both, the two discussed their plans for the future with a youthful and carefree vigor.

Frankly, Ryan felt disgusted. His heart burned with jealousy for those days that had passed him by with little excitement or joy. A few years of blissful marriage with the love of his wife before she passed, leaving behind a young boy that would rather spend the day as far away from Ryan as possible. The two lived in the same home, but rarely shared the same menu that day or remained in the same room without a tense air flooding the space between them.

It wasn’t animosity, at least, Ryan didn’t think it was. However, the thought of spending the whole day with Michael made his skin crawl. It would be better for the two to simply lead their own lives and not get in the other’s way.

Then Veronica arrived. Michael spent much more time at home playing House with her while Ryan remained some awkward third-wheel in his own abode. There was no animosity, but Ryan didn’t miss the way Michael’s brow furrowed when he saw his father or the way Veronica’s smile grew just the tiniest bit more tense when Ryan said “Hello,” or just passed by the hallway.

It was maddening. The young couple flaunted their happiness as if Ryan didn’t exist without rest. It was picturesque relationship that served as a painful reminder of what Ryan could never have. A gnawing hunger for a youthful renaissance or a second chance ate at Ryan’s soul, and he eventually snapped.

Not long after, an old family member, in his deathbed, passed along a grimoire.

“The ability to change and reshape reality to suit your whims,” the relative, a man that Ryan scarcely knew and hardly thought about, said with his final breaths. “You’ve always been so kind and considerate, dropping every once and while to check up on me,” he continued, unaware that Ryan spent the last few days trying to remember the relative’s name or even their relationship. “Use this power to make you and Michael’s life better. It’ll bring me great joy in the afterlife to know that you’re both okay and that my book helped.” With a tearful smile, he said, “Wouldn’t that be great? It’ll be like I’m watching over you.”

Ryan nodded and whispered, “Good night. We’ll miss you.” There was no reason to break the old man’s heart with the truth. It was an adult lesson Ryan learned long ago.

“I’ll miss Uncle Miles,” said Michael as they drove home together. Ah, that was his name. Always slipped my mind, thought Ryan as he glanced over at his son. It was one of the rare times Veronica wasn’t hanging off his arm. It felt like it was the first time he had seen in his son in years. So much taller and broad-shouldered—it brought forth another wave of envy inside of Ryan. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his son spoke again. “What did he say to you?”

Caught off-guard, he gruffly responded, “J-Just gave me his little book,” with a small sneer. “He was born delusional and died delusional,” he lied—a habit that brought him far too much comfort. “Least we were able to say goodbye. Gotta be grateful for that.”

“Right…” said Michael with barely hidden disdain. The rest of the ride back was silent as Ryan’s mind returned to Miles’ spellbook. In his youth, he had seen Miles be able to use that book for specific hexes and curses, but he had little talent for such things.

“It’s all in the ritual,” Miles had told him once. “You just have to be more careful with the spell and the materials you make. A strong will and determination also help, Ryan.” At first, Ryan didn’t really care for Miles’ advice and let those memories stew in the back of his mind. Now, at the height of his envy, Ryan ran towards his room with thundering steps and opened the page to his destined future.

Bodysnatching. Taking over another’s body. The stolen youth and missed opportunities wouldn’t matter to Ryan anymore. He would take them all back. He would invade his own son’s body and restart his life—a true renaissance. The thought of that caused shivers to travel down his spine and towards his crotch. His own flesh and blood convulsing as he took back what he rightfully deserved. First, he would break up with Veronica, enjoy the way her soft features so accustomed to smiling twisted into a tearful grimace, and then indulge in youth once more. Perhaps sleep around some and enjoy what fading bits of youthful freedom his son was wasting. Michael seemed like he was in such a hurry to grow up. It honestly depressed Ryan as much as it enraged him.

His thoughts were cut off as someone knocked on his door. Waiting for his erection to calm, he answered, “Comin’.”

On the other side was Veronica, smiling as she usually did. “Hello, Mr. Mitchell,” she greeted with a practiced tilt of her head. “I just wanted to thank you so much for letting me stay with Michael so often. Sometimes it feels like I’m monopolizing his time with you,” she said, tittering. Feeling awkward, Ryan joined in until she stopped.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Veronica,” said Ryan. “It’s not like Michael and I are particularly excited to spend whole days together.” It was a dialogue that wasn’t unfamiliar to Ryan, but he found it more difficult than ever to put even the barest effort into it. When he was so close to finally breaking free, this girl felt the need to drag it out even longer. Her fake smile only enraged him further. “’sides, it’s not like you two are gonna be together for very long anyway. High school and college sweethearts break up all the time.” Ryan couldn’t help but grin as those words escape his lips.

Veronica’s lips tightened, and her smile became even more forced. “I see,” she said, dragging out the last syllable. “Well, please be conscientious enough to have your little mid-life crisis like a normal person would and keep it far away from us. Okay?” She shut the door on him, not waiting for Ryan’s response.

All her actions did was just push Ryan forward. He waited until it was late at night, filling his time by practicing magic circles on his floor. Every time he felt discouraged, he remembered Veronica’s smile and grew inspired. To break that damn girl—that alone would be worth the effort. At around midnight, when the lights to Michael’s room shut off, Ryan got to work. Whispering the enchantment under his breath, his half-naked body groaned and trembled as his soul emerged from the flesh. Little more than a ball of blue flame, Ryan shot through the air towards his son’s room. His spirit phased through the wall with no resistance.

It's mine, all mine, he thought in a twisted excitement as he emerged into Michael’s room. His son lied on his bed, one leg arched and his mouth open as he snored peacefully. Come to daddy, Michael, thought Ryan as he zoomed towards his defenseless son.

Then, he felt something pinch him from behind and drag him away from Michael. “…?!” The only sound he could matter was a shocked cry as Veronica held him back.

“Well, well,” she said, smirking at the ball in her hand. She dropped Ryan onto her other hand, holding him like a baseball bat. “Another piece of shit that wants their dirty soul in my boyfriend.” Grip tightening, she raised Ryan up so that they were face-to-face. “Do you know how many irritating magicians, witches, warlocks, and everything in between try to possess my precious Mikey?” Ryan couldn’t response. All he could do was watch as Veronica’s sweet façade melted into a chilling glare.

Michael blissfully snoozed away.

“The answer is too many, Mr. Mitchell. And you just added yourself onto that list.” Though Ryan couldn’t emote, his soul still shivered at the weight of Veronica’s words. “Don’t worry, I’m above killing. Pathetic people like you aren’t going to learn any lessons in the afterlife. I’ve got a very special punishment for your kind.”

It happened in an instant. Veronica’s body burst into pink flames, still with a tight grip on Ryan’s soul. The flames flew through the house in a speed that Ryan could never hope to match until both spirits dived into Ryan’s body. He fell backwards onto the floor, toes curling and hips thrusting into the air as Veronica forced him back into his flesh and forcibly ripped control from him. With surgical precision, each of Ryan’s limbs fell under her control until she was admiring her form in front of Ryan’s full-view mirror.

“The age really hits you,” said Veronica as she ran her stole hands down her torso. “And all the good muscles gooooone,” she said, pouting in the mirror before giggling to herself. “Y’know DILFs are still in fashion, Mr. Mitchell? You could probably find yourself a nice, thirsty thot to bring home. Maybe even someone willing to settle down.” Hands resting on the back of her bald head, armpits exposed, she sauntered throughout the room. She also, perhaps to humiliate him further in this parade, swung his hips seductively. “But I guess some people just can’t get enough of just living and appreciating what they have, huh? They just have to try and take from others.”

Please, Ryan begged from the recesses of his mind. Just lemme go. I promise I learned my lesson. Lemme go!

“No way,” said Veronica, twirling her finger. All sorts of sex toys, vibrators, and hemp rope appeared on Ryan’s bed. “You won’t learn this lesson until its engraved into your body. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure your flesh won’t ever forget.” Cackling to herself, Veronica picked up a vibrator and eagerly sighed as it began to buzz with a fearsome intensity. “It’s PUNISHMENT TIIIIIIME!”

From anal beads to vibrators to surugadoi, Ryan’s mind and body learned the true extent of a witch’s wrath. His bed, sheets, and even walls became coated in semen which Veronica happily scooped up. “Mustn’t waste a single drop,” she taunted him, shaking his ass as she roced him to crawl on all fours. “If you do, we might have to start allll over again.” He screamed and moan in his prison, unable to deny the enjoyment he felt.

Meanwhile, Michael slept peacefully as his father’s roars of intense pain and pleasure filled the house. Veronica always enjoyed putting a Slumber charm on her boyfriend to make sure he always had a necessary eight hours. It was also convenient when she went galivanting and dolling out punishments to people.

The following morning, Ryan hummed to himself as he fixed up pancakes for the happy couple. Veronica smiled and cuddled close to a happy yet confused Michael. “What’s the occasion?” he asked Ryan.

“N-Nothing, son,” said Ryan as he set down a plate. He rubbed his hand over his face as he spoke. “Just… feel like I really learned something about myself last night, thinking about Miles’ words.” He smiled at Michael. “Any plans for you crazy kids?”

“We’re going to swim at the lake to relax before we got back to school,” said Veronica as she drowned her plate with syrup. “Once hell week is up, we’re thinking of going to a friend’s beach house for the summer. Isn’t that grand?”

“Sounds amazing,” said Ryan while Michael happily accepted the new laid-back atmosphere. Ryan stood and smiled the whole time. Perhaps he could get accustomed to something like this like his son.

“Dad? Aren’t you going to sit down and have breakfast with us?”

A quick glance at Veronica was all that Ryan needed to formulate an answer. “Oh, no, no. I’ve got some work to get done. I’ll have breakfast later.” He left the kitchen, relieved his son didn’t insist that Ryan ate with them. There was no way Ryan would be able to sit down for at least a week.

Wrestling With Some Feelings

Wrestling with some Feelings

“Wh-What are you doing…?" Ahmed moaned as a trail of slime slid into his singlet. Just the very touch caused his body to react with an eruption of pleasurable waves. He collapsed onto the locker room floor, slowly humping the floor to get any sort of friction on his hardening dick. "Haa… aahhhh...haaa…! This isn't… right." Ahmed bit down on his lip before letting down another desperate moan. So caught up in this invasive bliss that he didn't even care when the slimy creature squeezed itself into his leaking cock. Instead, he welcomed it. Thoughts of championships and the thrill of victory soon vanished beneath a blanket of ecstasy. "Ah! Ahhh! H-Holy fuck, I'm—!"

Ahmed wasn't able to finish as his body yielded to the enigmatic invader. His vision swam and he felt dizzy until he collapsed on a puddle of his precum. Ahmed's body convulsed on the ground, unable to even call for help, until he suddenly became rigid, back arched as if mid-orgasm. Then, he relaxed. Slowly, he rose from the ground and took a peek inside his wrestling singlet. "Damn kid, you got a sweet-ass body," he said, stretching his body and letting out a satisfying grunt as something popped. His more reserved personality and mannerisms were completely gone, as though it was someone else entirely. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna stay here forever. Just long enough to throw that match with Clay tonight. Can’t let my son lose that scholarship. You understand, right?” Adjusting his singlet again, the man in possession of Ahmed, Jerry, let out a sensual groan. “Ohhh, and maybe take advantage of this little body for a while. Not every day an old fart like me can be a young and sexy college stud for a few hours."

There was still time until the match, and considering how it would just be throwing the match to Clay, it wouldn’t take much effort. For now, Jerry could relax and enjoy what Ahmed's body had to offer. Grinning, he squeezed Ahmed's meat through the fabric and threw his head back in a low moan. "You're so lucky, being so sensitive. C'mon, let's get real acquainted."

Clay’s father had to struggle to keep his erection down as Clay seriously manhandled him the whole match. Each of Ahmed’s nerves seemed to be turbo-charged and Clay’s rough hands only seemed to aggravate that. With every slam and struggle—every time flesh met flesh with a flash of friction, Clay’s father found himself growing flushed. Didn’t even have to try that hard to throw, his over-horned body did the job for him.

Was it the spell or perhaps something more? Either way, soon Jerry found himself pinned to the mat with his son sneering down at him. The ref called the final point, and that was it. Jerry walked back to the locker rooms, ignoring the calls from his coach and friends. He couldn’t risk anyone catching on to his lack of disappointment.

To make sure the locker room would be empty, Jerry took an extremely long shower—checking his goods one last time before he would have to leave and return home to congratulate his son. Towel around his waist, he made his way over to the locker only to meet a meaty arm blocking his way. 

"Gotta say, kinda disappointed in your performance today, Ahmed," Clay said with a glare.

“Oh, Clay! Uh, wh-what can I say? Performance anxiety,” Jerry said, shrugging.

Clay tilted his head in confusion. “The hell’s happened to you? All jumpy and squirrely.” He took a step forward, cornering his father against the lockers. “You sick or something? Honestly looking real weird.”

Swallowing, Clay’s father said, “Um, I suppose you just have the magic touch,” he said, mind racing to come up with a lie that would be somewhat believable. “Body got all hot and cold with you manhandling me like that.” Jerry prayed that his face and ears weren’t turning as red as he thought they were.

Clay nodded to himself while squinting as if deciphering a difficult piece of text. "That so…?” Hoping that was enough, Jerry began to walk away. However, Clay slammed both of his arms against the lockers, pinning his father completely. “All you had to do was ask,” Clay whispered, his incredulous look turning into one of passion. Without a word, he leaned and kissed Jerry on his borrowed lips. Too shocked to even fight, Jerry leaned back and shut his eyes. What did this rush of passion mean? It was as if a dam had suddenly burst open.

Caught in this stream of passion, Jerry met Clay's kiss with equal aggression. It was as if he was possessed by whatever sentiments Ahmed had locked away deep inside of his subconscious. Either way, Jerry couldn’t even bother trying to resist the youthful hormones that danced in every inch of his hunky, borrowed body.

“Damn, you taste real fine,” said Clay, leaning away to stare at the giddy, bubbly mess that was Jerry. “Your lips feel so nice. Bet they’d be even better wrapped around my dick,” he said, slapping his thigh as he said so. Jerry glanced down and saw his son’s fully erect cock straining against the confines of the singlet. Wordlessly, he nodded and got down on his knees. The taste was so salty, but he didn’t mind it at all. Hearing his son’s pleasured moans and the cock threatening to unhinge Ahmed’s jaw was enough to get Jerry’s own dick hard.

“Make me see white,” Jerry breathed as he drew back with a pop. He spread his legs, trying to show as much of his ass he could. “Fuck me hard, Clay. I don’t think I can live without that cock inside of me once.”

“Say no more.” With a grunt of effort, Clay lifted Jerry up and placed him down onto one of the benches. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice and gentleman-y like.” Leaning up to steal another sensual kiss, Clay teased the rim of Ahmed’s hole with his cockhead. Jerry moaned and bit down on his lips. He took a few breaths, trying to relax, before just leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "Hold on, relax," whispered Clay, using a finger to loosen him up. "Got some lube in my locker. Give me a sec."

“You have what?” Jerry exclaimed as Clay briefly walked off. “H-How often do you do this here.”

Once Clay returned, he just grinned and said, “Enough.”

Though Jerry wanted to continue asking his son, the finger that penetrated him had another idea. Jerry, nearly cross-eyed, immediately tightened as a reflex. He leaned back, moaning like a slut as Clay slipped in another finger. Then another. “F-Fuck, I-I’m fucking cumming!” Jerry shouted as his dick erupted with shot after shot of pent-up aggression.

“Damn, came from just fingering?” Clay grinned. “Hope you still got fuel in the tank, Ahmed. I still haven’t got a chance to shoot my shot.”

Breathing heavily, Jerry nodded as he spread his legs even further. Despite his climax abating, the sensual haze in his mind didn’t leave. Instead, he felt as though he could cum again and again that night. “I’m still not satisfied. Split me in half, Clay!” He moaned. Although the more logical part of Jerry's mind screamed and begged, he didn't give a shit. He just wanted this hunky hole filled and his son's cock was the one thing that could fix that.

Clay wasted no time. He spread Jerry as much as he cut and gave a slow, experimental thrust. When Jerry didn't scream, he slowly picked up the pace. "Mm, yeah. Nrgh, fuck yeah," he grunted with every thrust. There was no reason to go so quick that it would take away from the passion. As promised, he was gentle with strong, rhythmic thrusts. Jerry met each one with the same rhythm. Every nerve seemed to be on fire as Clay's cock filled him—as though Jerry was finally complete. With this body and this cock inside of him, he was reaching Nirvana.

After what seemed like a lifetime of pleasure, Jerry noticed Clay’s core tightening. His face was flushed and his body was covered in a sheen of sweat. “I’m—nggh—I’m gonna blow my load. Want me to cum inside?” Jerry quickly nodded. Clay grinned. “Good answer.” With renewed vigor, Clay continued plowing into Jerry as he babbled nonsense. “C’mon, Ahmed. Scream for me.” He said, slapping Ahmed’s quivering thighs.

“Oh my god,” said Jerry, covering his face to hide the tears. He was elated and embarrassed all at once. His own offspring was smashing him and all he could do was moan and allow it to happen. It had been years since he had sex this good, and he knew that Ahmed felt the same. No, for Ahmed it was even more intense. Somehow, Jerry understood that Ahmed had never had sex before. Now, at that moment, Jerry was losing his virginity for Ahmed. With that in mind, Jerry could feel his climax swiftly approaching.

“I'm gonna nut! I'm gonna—MMM!" Jerry stopped as Clay suddenly embraced him with a long, intense kiss. Unable to handle the heat and the passion any longer, Jerry climaxed. Both of their bodies became drenched in semen, but neither of them cared. All they wished was to taste as much of themselves in that kiss.

Sorry, Ahmed, thought Jerry, lemme just stay in this body for a little while longer. I’ll leave tomorrow in the morning. Promise.

FEStival Fiasco

Mizar Interlude

The joys of physical touch fascinated Mizar so. With every lover and climax, he felt more and more inclined to remain in this blue rock for the rest of his life just having his prostate ridden.

Luckily for him, Mizar found himself in a stuffy office full of men who desperately needed someone to relieve stress with. After a few winks and thirsty looks, Mizar had his next plaything on lock.

“Ngh! C’mon, harder!” he begged at this handsome stranger in a suit. They were in an unused meeting room that, according to his host’s coworker, would not be used for another hour. Mizar was on his back, completely naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, as his partner fucked him with just his slacks down. By now, he was far from festival grounds by highjacking bodies and hopping on dicks. This would just be another ride he could take advantage of.

“Holy shit, John!" The businessman, whatever his name was, exclaimed as he continued pounding Mizar. "You always seemed so uptight! Who knew you were such a cockslut," the man said with a chuckle as he picked up the pace. "And such a tight ass. Holy hell, it's like it's sucking me in."

“Ahhh,” Mizar moaned, arching his back while trying to meet John’s coworker with equal vigor.  He truly had no idea what his host’s name was or even his position in the company, but none of that mattered compared to the burning desire for carnal pleasure. “K-Keep it up. C’mon, fuck me hard! Make me forget even my own name!” Mizar shouted, repeating phrases from previous partners. When in Rome, as one of them had said when he first came to them with an erection that wouldn’t go down and a crazed need to bottom. Or was it, any hole’s a good one?

All of the thoughts instantly vanished from Mizar as his partner delivered another powerful thrust. "Ngh! F-FUCK!" Not nearly satisfied enough, Mizar wrapped his legs around his coworker's torso and pull him even deeper into himself. "Paint my insides white! Tear me in half like—OOOH—LIKE A COCK WHORE!"

“Here it comes!” Mizar’s lover cried out, balancing on his toes to push even deeper as he came. Mizar grinned as he felt each shot fill him up with warm semen. Soon after, as his lover’s climax dribbled away, he reached his own peak as well. Load after load fell onto Mizar’s borrowed, sweaty torso, and he enjoyed rubbing it all over himself. He wasn’t sure if it was his possession that caused such tremors of ecstasy with all of his hosts, but he was far and beyond the point of caring. For Mizar, his life would be peaks and valleys of time when he was seeking his new high. “Come hereeee...” he whispered, tongue sticking out as he grabbed his lover by the tie and pulled him close.

Another peak, another valley. Now was the time to find another experience. Without delay, Mizar jumped from John and into his new ride. Although the businessman struggled and tried to push Mizar away, he could not stop the alien sliding in through his mouth and traveling up to his brain. "NGH! MM! Oh—oh god!" The man groaned, collapsing on top of John's drooling and unconscious body as Mizar bit down on his brain. After some small convulsions and a few waves of pleasure, Mizar stood up and admired his new husk. The hard-on that threatened to no longer fit in his slacks and jock-strap fascinated Mizar the most.

“Let’s go,” Mizar said to himself, not even bothering to figure out more about this man or how to lay low. All that mattered to him was finding his next peak.

Wrestling with some Feelings was a request from @lurkinglizards btw! He gave me the idea and I wrote it

If you wish for some more stories like that, I’m accepting commissions on my ko-fi page. Feel free to take a look.

Hans Off the Computer!

The human mind, when boiled down to its most fundamental building blocks, was simply a system of ON and OFF switches. In that sense, it is functionally identical to that of a computer’s mainframe. When putting both of those thoughts together, the idea that the human brain can be completely digitized and transferred through networks isn’t too far-fetched an idea.

At the very least, that was the thought of Hans Hopper, a freelance software engineer. Currently, he was working at a computer repair shop to get some extra money and to kill time between projects—including his own.

“It could be possible,” he voiced his dreams to his boss, Carl, as they took a look at some guy’s gaming PC. The components were state of the art, some not even out in the market yet. Just the graphic card and motherboard made Hans drool at the sight. Streamers get all the luck, he thought. The owner, some small-name star with a big ego, took poor care of his machine, leading to landing on Carl's shop.

“Y’know, Hopper,” Carl began as he cleaned some dust off of the PC’s parts, “I think if you put that head of yours outta the clouds and into reality with the rest o’ us, you’d really take off. Least you wouldn’t be stuck in this freelancing business and get a real job like some o’ your peers.”

“And be like those corporate suck-ups?” Hans snorted. “As if. I’m not gonna be another cog in the machine. Now being in a machine." He grinned, already fantasizing about the things he'd do if he could ditch his flawed, physical form for a future full of infinite potential inside of a network. "That's what I'm after."

“Least those corporate suck-ups can afford their own places,” Carl sighed. “You’re still living with roommates at, what, 30?”

“...27, actually.”

Grinning, Carl said, “And there’s my point. At your age, Hans, I--” he paused as his phone began to ring with an irritatingly catchy tune. “Aw, shit. Lost track of time.” Before Carl ducked to the back of the store and towards the hall that led to his home, he glanced back and said, “Can you wrap up here and close the store, Hans?”

“You got it, boss," Hans said, waving him off. "Take care." Carl left without an answer, and Hans found himself alone with a PC he could only dream of. "Well well," he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a flash drive. "Looks like it's just you and me from now on. Let's see if what's under the hood's enough to get my program running."

While Carl had a point that Hans' dream was beyond the capacity of current human technology, the world of sci-fi and fantasy lacked such rules. "Just like that ol' title," he muttered to himself as he inserted the flash drive into a USB drive. "A machine can't act like a human mind, but it can calculate runes with no trouble. Sometimes when we can’t use tech to get somewhere, we gotta use shortcuts.”

This PC was his best chance to experiment on his little program to see if it worked. After checking to make sure the drives were all up to date and the whole thing was running smoothly, Hans executed his program. A few keystrokes later, a magic circle formed on the screen. “Let’s gooo—WOAH!”

Although Hans should have figured that the ritual wouldn’t be painless, having his physical form ripped apart and turned into data was nothing short of excruciating. Reforming himself later wouldn’t be any less unpleasant, but he could never turn down the chance to become data and revolutionize the field of… magic? Science? Magitek?

He witnessed his fingers slowly fade as if turning into dust and flow like a stream of water into the screen. As the entirety of his arms completely disappeared, sprites that resembled arms appeared on the screen. "L-Least it works?" Hans nervously said as more and more of his body faded away.

Eventually, Hans' ability to feel, taste, hear, and see waned as his body fully waxed into the computer. The sensation… was nothing. There were no nerves or sensors to feel with, but he could understand the data that his mind had access to. Overwhelming, yet the sensation felt like precious wine on his lips.

The network… Though small, Hans was amazed at how he could travel through the network of the shop—including Carl’s personal PC.

“No, no,” Hans realized he could hear. He saw Carl through the uncovered camera and heard him through a microphone that remained plugged in. For a tech-savvy guy, Carl was real lenient in terms of privacy. "C'mon, Elise, be reasonable here. We got a meeting with the divorce lawyer tomorrow. Can’t you have your little wine party another day?” Carl rolled his eyes as he pocketed his phone. “Fuckin’ bitch. Can’t give me a break.”

And now, as Carl sat down to work on his computer, Hans realized he could attempt the other upside of the ritual. With his mind now data, he could reach out and override the "data" that was another's consciousness.

“What the hell am I supposed to—MMGPHF!”

It wasn’t the most graceful exit, but Hans couldn’t deny the results. Black tendrils—an unnatural amalgamation of data and flesh flew from the screen and landed on Carl’s face, causing him to fly back a few inches. His body twitched and convulsed, back forming a C,  as Hans’ essence flowed into each of Carl’s orifices. Carl’s feet kicked at the ground, fingers gripping his chair’s armrests, as Hans’ essence attacked and invaded his brain.

“A-Ah, ahhh.” Carl helplessly moaned as Hans override any freedom and control over his body. After a few painful seconds with his back arched and his toes curling as the sensation of being overtaken overwhelmed him, Hans awoke in his boss’ body.

“Well, well,” said Hans, feeling his new arms. “Not exactly my first choice for a body, but not a bad test drive.” He stretched in the comfortable office chair, a gift from another customer. “Man, Carl, for an old guy you don’t feel half-bad.” Now realizing that he was alone, a mischievous thought crossed Hans’ mind. “Well, got some time to keep doing some more research on my little program. Maybe I can find a way to hack into other networks." Grinning to himself, he stood up and slowly stripped out of Carl's clothes. First, the shirt came off as the nipples hardened in the cool air, then the shoes were chucked to the side to allow his feet to breathe. The pants came off next, and finally, the underwear flew across the room as Hans embraced his newfound potential—and his borrowed pole.

“Who knew old farts like you still had crazy stamina like this!” Hans cried out, furiously and desperately thrusting into his grip as he jacked off his boss’ body. “F-Fuck! Fuuuuuck!” Hans let out a roar as he came all over his boss’ keyboard. “W-Woah. Gonna have to clean that up later. Dunno where he keeps his tissues, but...” Hans paused and grinned once more. This wasn’t his body, so what the hell? He bent down and began to lick the keys clean, making sure to savor his boss’ taste with each slurp.

The next day, he sat in his boss' room, giving another client's laptop a check-up. It was a Sunday and so the shop was closed, but Hans' mind was far too wired to relax by simply lying around the place. No, tinkering around and keeping his hands busy was how he would wind down.

Although, Hans remained without any clothes. The feeling of the chair against his naked skin was intoxicating. Never in his life had Hans worked in the nude, but he might have to start doing it more often as he tried on new skins. For now, though, might as well enjoy Carl’s life for a few more hours before trying on someone new.

Hans’ roommates were certainly appealing prospects.