Body A Day #6: Mirror

Body a Day #6: Mirror

Milo was the successful CEO of an established tech company. Blessed with three beautiful children, he lived life with no care in the world. It was only when he, deep into his 50’s yet still looking and feeling virile, went to the doctor’s that he discovered that he was going to die.

“It’s terminal,” said the doctor, offering his deepest condolences as he broke the news. He continued on, giving him an explanation regarding the illness, but Milo wasn't listening. His mind was still racing. He only responded when the doctor asked, “Would you like us to contact your family members?”

“No thank you, doctor. I have… a procedure for this. Family tradition, to be exact,” said Milo as he stared off into the distance. He thanked the staff and made his way home, glancing at himself in every passing reflection he could.

Arriving home in his penthouse suite, Milo sat down on his couch with a drink in hand. He stared out into the city skyline on a perfect sunset. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have given it a second glance. Now, all he could do was stare, transfixed by the transient sight, lost in his thoughts.

Which of my sons should I leave my inheritance to?

Milo was a father of three, but the youngest child, a girl by the name of Melanie, was not an option. That left two options: Matthew—who preferred Matt—and Mortimer—who didn’t like to be called Mort.

“Matthew’s a strong candidate, but Mort has his own little charms,” Milo muttered to himself, hoping that the crackling of the fire on his TV screen would help his concentration. He swirled a wine glass filled with a sugary grape juice as he hummed to himself. He wasn’t thinking particularly hard, but he figured that this was what all great thinkers usually looked like before getting hit by an epiphany, so there was merit to copying them in his current dilemma.

And yet, Milo found himself far too indecisive. After going through an entire jug of grape juice, he wandered over to his bathroom and began to monologue to his attractive face in the mirror. “Oh, my dying self,” he began, thinking back to his past as a theater actor. What should happen to my darling company and all my struggles? Will they vanish to the wind, nothing but hollow husks as they erode into dust?” He continued for quite a while before leaning into the mirror and giving it a quick kiss. “Oh, only you could understand someone like me…”

It had only been a few years since the entity was reborn as Milo. It wasn’t difficult to take over the rich CEO, but if he had known that Milo’s body would expire so quickly, he would’ve taken over one of the rotten kids earlier. Mel was still in college, but Matthew and Mort were already in high positions in the companies that Milo owned. They were set for life. However, Milo’s indecisiveness often held him back from just making a choice and doing it. Hell, taking over Milo was a choice that took about a week between him and his business partner, Niles.

Both were attractive, but after seeing Milo lounging around the steps on the company, the entity made its choice.

While the (relatively) brief period of time as Milo was great, part of that was thanks to all the cumshots Niles had pumped into his aged yet virile ass, now that it was coming to an end, Milo found himself in despair.

That was when the epiphany finally struck. Milo ran towards his room and gathered the necessary materials for the ritual. It only took about an hour to arrange everything properly. The candles were lit, the blood (hidden beneath a secret compartment in the freezer) was used and evaporated properly, and soon a burst of magic echoed into the night. Milo’s magic always looked like purple mist that smelled faintly of lavender.

“So, my other self,” Milo said, grinning at his own reflection. “Which one of my children do you wish to give your inheritance to?”

“Mmm…” said the other Milo, although it was ridiculous for them to be referred to as the ‘other.’ They weren’t two halves of a whole, but two congruent images of a soul. It was Milo and Milo. Any differences were quirks in the spellcraft and little more. “It’s amazing how we’ve ended up twice as indecisive with two of us. So instead, how about we flip a coin?”

Fate was a harsh mistress, but when looking at it from the perspective of ‘one Milo per son,’ then there was no reason for either of them to complain.

Matthew sounded excited when Milo dialed him up on the phone. “I’ll be right over there, my dear father,” he said with a honeyed yet forced voice. He was kind, considerate, and prideful to a fault; he was always so sure that his kind demeanor and charisma would give him a golden ticket through life, ignoring just how much of his father’s fortune and influence allowed him to fly through life.

There was a bit of guilt for Milo, as he had genuinely grown attached to these children that weren’t his, but he didn’t want to die. He had never died while possessing a host, and he didn’t want to risk the consequences of doing so. The worst thought was being trapped inside the dead host, unable to escape the prison of flesh as it slowly rotted away… turning into dust like that of Ozymondias’ kingdom.

Ash to ash… dust to dust… Those words always made a shudder creep down his spine. It was nerve-wracking. Horrifying. No, Milo needed to do this. They needed to do this. “Relax, myself,” his reflection assured him, smiling despite the anxiety in his eyes. “You u are no loonger alone. If one of us were to perish, the other would save him. Remember that, okay?” he said with a wink.

Milo nodded and waited for Matthew to arrive. When he did, Milo wasted no time guiding him towards his room, where a special mirror was awaiting him. As Matthew walked inside, he asked, “Why in your room, dad?” He looked around and took a quick whiff. “Hmm… it’s a nice smell. Is that… orange…?” Amazingly, Matthew wandered the room on his own, looking around various trinkets and decorations that Milo had gathered even since taking on his most recent host. “You’ve got quite the odd collection, dad. It’s… uh… huh…?” It was inevitable, but he walked right in front of the mirror.

“Must be a strange sight, huh?” said Milo, leaning against the door frame and shooting out an email from his phone. A bright light flooded the room, which made him glad that he wasn’t looking directly at it. He could hear a panicked scream from the eldest son, but Milo just shrugged and continued to look away. He knew that Matthew saw his father’s reflection instead of his own, and then saw the same image burst out of the mirror and flood his younger and more virile body.

“Quick, to the mirror!” Milo’s other half, now Matthew, cried out. For whatever reason—perhaps a fundamental law of the universe—Milo could feel his essence beginning to vanish. Was it because he was lacking a reflection? Most likely. But Milo didn’t have much time to think. He uttered a quick incantion and then jumped through the glass as though it was a pool of water. Immediately, the sensation of his very molecules being pulled apart as though being ravaged by some invisible, fearsome beast. “Phew, that was close,” said Matthew as he looked down at the panting, sweaty mess that was Milo.

“Sh-Shut up…”

“Hey, you’re alive, right?” grinned Matthew. “All right, I’m gonna give Mort a call and get him to come by. In the meantime, sit tight and get ready, ok?”

Milo sat up and looked around. Anything that was beyond what the mirror reflected was just a gray, foggy void. Essentially, he was trapped in that small pocket of a reflection until someone else looked into the enchanted mirror. “Not like I have much of a choice,” he said, looking down to see a phone with all the numbers and symbols mirrored, making it difficult to read. It also lacked any reception, which made enough sense to piss Milo off. “Just don’t take too long. Hey! Pay attention!” he shouted as the new Matthew began to strip and check out his new, stolen goods.

It took far too long to get Matthew back in control. Maybe I really should’ve recommended for him to get tested for ADHD. I had my suspicions when I took over his father for the first time, thought Milo, reflection on the oldest son’s behavior once more. But eventually Matthew dialed up Mort’s number, who picked up with his usual greeting. “Don’t call me Mort,” he said just before Matthew eagerly greeted him with a “Heya, Mort!”

The two went back and forth, and Milo, despite being in what was essentially a reality away, could still make out most of what Mort said due to all the exasperated yelling. Matthew went wildly off-script, but all it took was a mention that he was over at Milo’s place talking business for Mort to suddenly cry out, “I’m on my way! Hold up.”

Milo and Matthew shared amused smirks and awaited the middle son’s arrival. They didn’t have to wait long. Mort arrived just 20 minutes later, panting and sweay from most likely running up the stairs—forgoing the building’s elevator. “Where’s dad?!” he cried, pushing past his brother and stomping around the apartment. Matthew gestured towards Milo’s open room door, and Mort rushed inside. “Father, I have my reservations regarding—the fuck…? W-Woah, AHHH!”

~o~

Months after Milo’s funeral, Melanie found herself enjoying a family dinner for the first time in what felt like decades. The siblings had gone out for dinner and not a single fight occurred the entire meal! Melanie could feel her blood pressure lowering the more she found herself engaged pleasant talk with her siblings. They smiled, joked, and showed that they were listening to her stories. Not longer did they roll their eyes, check their phones, or just not even bother paying attention to her and instead bring up complicated business deals and numbers to each other, pointedly ignoring her.

After the meal, the three returned to Matt’s home and played a few cards game. Melanie found herself on a bit of a lucky streak by the end of night, managing to get to 21 during the last few rounds of Blackjack.

“It’s been frankly amazing!” she said to her siblings as they walked her to her husband’s car. “I can’t remember the last time we had so much fun. I…” she paused and choked back a sob. Matt pulled her in for a side-hug while Mort told her that the two of them promised each other that they’d get along better.

“Dad wouldn’t have wanted us to keep on fighting,” he told her, smiling with eyes twinging with regret. “Just wish he could see us getting along better.”

Melanie reached out and gripped Mort’s hand. “Something tells me that he can. And I’m sure he’s proudly looking down on us. Thanks for everything, you two. Good night.” With those parting words, Melanie joined her husband. She didn’t notice the knowing look Matt and Mort gave each other.

“Well my dear brother,” began Matt as he looked through his closet. After the funeral, Matt made sure to take all of his old clothes from his days as Milo. No reason to let such fashionable fabrics go to waster, after all. “Glad we made our dear sister smile again. I think tonight was a Mission Accomplished. Oooh, I think this one fits the new me,” he said as he put on a floral-patterned Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned of course, and a pair of cargo shorts. He showed them off to Mort, making sure to flex to show off his core muscles. “I think the try-hard, sweat-lord life is behind me now that my dad has passed on and left so much money and influence to me. It’s time to just relax and cruise on by.”

Mort chuckled as he stripped off most of his shoes, content with just a pair of briefs that snugly hugged his crotch. “Of course, dear brother… my other half…” he said, lying back and letting out a relaxed sigh. “These bodies of ours were so exhausted when we got to them. They deserve a vacation, don’t they?”

Matt climbed on the bed and lied on top of Mort’s, who let out a moan. “That they do, Mort. So let’s give it to them.” They pulled each other close and kissed. Their hands went wild as they explored each other’s body for what could’ve easily been the 20th time, their lustful expressions identical. For once, Matt and Mort were equals in the other’s eyes; they became mirrored halves that made the other whole.

Body-a-Day #3: Blood

Daryl let out a moan as his date bit him in the neck. “Sh-Shit, you’re one horny motherfucker…!” he said through gritted teeth. “W-Wait, what’re you doing? Y-You’re, ah!” He let out another gasp as he felt his date, Enzo, pierce the skin. “Wh-What the fuck?! I-I can’t move!” All Daryl could do was struggle and mildly shift as he tried to escape Enzo’s tight grip.

Enzo briefly pulled back, licking the trail of blood that flowed from Daryl’s open wound. “That vampire hunter’s been getting in my way,” he whispered into Daryl’s ear. His hot breath made shivers go down Daryl’s spine. Even in such a terrifying position, Daryl couldn’t help but feel his cock still grow still in the confines of his boxers.

“Oh?” Enzo stuffed a hand down Daryl’s jeans and gripped his dick. “So this is turning you on?”

Blushing, Daryl said, “Sh-Shut up, freak! You’re insane.”

Enzo just chuckled and sank his teeth back into Daryl’s hot flesh. Daryl had donated plasma before coming out of the closet, so he knew the sensation of getting his blood drawn. However, this was on another intensity. He became lightheaded and his chest grew tight.

Enzo pulled away and let out a satisfied sigh. “Ahh… he lost. Thankfully a fool like you agreed to meet up. All I needed was a phone from some poor fool that became my meal.” Daryl’s heart began to race. His original date was dead? Eaten?! “Oh, don’t worry,” cooed Enzo as he caressed Daryl’s trembling cheek. “I was on the brink of death at the time. And your fear is just so adorable that I would never eat you. But… I do need a hideout of a while.”

“Hideout…?” squeaked Daryl.

Enzo smirked. “Hold still. I don’t want you to risk hurting that cute face of yours.” Enzo’s body began to melt and turn into a pile of red blood. Daryl, freed from the grip, tried to crawl away. However, as he stood from the bed, his legs gave out due to a dizzy spell.

Daryl cursed the anemia. How much blood had the vampire drained?

“Ah…! N-No!” The sentient blood began to pour into the two tiny wounds on his neck. Daryl could only weakly kick and convulse as Enzo’s essence filled him up. His body shook and even expanded a little—become the tiniest bit thicker as Enzo made his new home.

Although Daryl was terrified, he couldn’t help but feel arousal as Enzo penetrated him. “I-I’m gonna cum… please stop!” He humped the carpeted floor of his apartment as he last of the blood slipped inside. The feeling of Enzo flowing in his body and taking it over was far too erotic for Daryl. He was going crazy. And yet...

“You mustn’t. That climax is mine, my puppet.” Daryl’s pupils dilated as Enzo’s voice echoed in his skull. Although he tried to ignore it, he found himself in the edge of a climax, he couldn’t cum. With the limited control over himself he had left, Daryl peeled off his boxers and stroked his cock, but he couldn’t ejaculated. “Ah! S-Stop, stop! Lemme cum, please please…!” he begged.

“Will you submit? Do you recognize me as your master?” said Enzo’s smug voice. Daryl hesitated, but deep in the throes of an endless edging session, he could barely even think.

Convulsing in madness, Daryl just cried out, “Yes! Yes, I’ll be yours! I’ll be your cum dumpster, your body, anything, master! Just please—OH! Oh fuck, oh fuck, OHHHH!” Daryl flipped over on his back and humped the air as he had the largest climax of his life. Some of his shots even reached up to the ceiling as relief washed over his body. “I-I’m… I’m yours…” was the last thing he said through sweaty pants before falling unconscious.

Enzo arose in his new body. Though he was a powerful vampire, he still felt the exhaustion that came from such an experience. “Still, this is nice,” he said, still panting and sweaty. Standing up, Daryl’s remaining clothes slipped from his body, he made his way over to the bathroom and washed up.

“The night is all mine,” the vampire said to himself, enjoying seeing his body’s reflection in the mirror. It had been centuries since Enzo had seen his own reflection, so he took a small joy in seeing the one from bodies he borrowed. He flexed in some of Daryl’s new boxers and socks, laughing to himself as he felt new vitality flowing through him. Enzo had made such a good choice with this host.

“Now then, let’s find that vampire hunter.”

Body a Day #8: Wash

In the land of Gaia, most women were specifically banned from learning or practicing any form of magic. Marron’s house, a house that came from merchants who struck good fortune and rose to the upper echelons of society, was one of the more ‘progressive’ ones, as she received the basic fundamentals at a young age, but not much afterwards. Meanwhile, her brothers were taught until they left for a higher education in the capital.

However, Marron was still eager to learn more. She snuck into her brothers’ rooms and devoured each magical textbook and practice in the dead of night. In the morning, thoroughly exhausted, she learned how to be a good housewife for whatever lord she would end up getting married off to. By her 21st birthday, her parents arranged for a meeting with a local lord named Ector Valentine. Marron wasn’t particularly interested in the monotone man, but she remained kind, polite, and thoughtful. She laughed at his unfunny jokes and remained attentive and receptive when he spoke of his admitedly tame list of accomplishments.

Ector left Marron’s estate with nothing but glowing things to say to his parents—and so their wedding was quickly arranged. In the months leading up to it, Marron found it harder to practice magic in secret. She could feel her dreams of becoming a talented sorceress slipping through her fingers. How could she find the time to study, practice, and research while being a wife and a mother?!

However, Marron still kept the appeared of a collected, wonderful woman. She took a trip to town and caught sight of a crowd gathered around some kind of show. Curious, she walked over and saw a sight she never thought she’d ever witnessed.

Floating on a bright pink bubble was a tall, woman laughing as she spun on miraculous magic she had conjured up. She was laughing as she kept conjuring up bubbles, winds, and rainbows—putting on a show the likes of which Marron had never seen before. “Sisters and siblings, isn’t it our turn to lend our hands to the field of magic?” she asked the crowd, most of which remained nervously silent.

Several men tried to grab at the woman or even throw rocks, but a few quick hands movements and they were all blown back with streams of bubbles. “Uh-uh! No touching allowed,” she said while wagging her fingers, her face still beaming. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the men who tried to assault her. If anything, she almost expected it.

“My name,” the sorceress began, “is Tiffany Faye! I’m here to share my tale!” She went on to describe how she had learned how to use magic since she was young. Both of her parents, as well as several aunts and uncles, taught her how to succeed. “It’s because they believed in equality,” she said, briefly locking eyes with Marron before moving on.

More and more sorcerers came by to try and arrest Tiffany, but she easily gave them the slip while yelling to her audience, “If you wish to find me, you will. Fate is in our hands, my sisters and siblings!” Marron tried out to cry out for help, but found herself choking on her own voice as Tiffany disappeared as a stream of bubbles blocked everyone’s vision. By the time the bubbles dispersed, Tiffany was gone.

Forlorn, Marron continued her walk. She knew she should’ve put that encounter into the back of her mind, but she couldn’t. Tiffany looked so confident. So strong. She was unlike any other lady Marron had ever seen. Was it love? Marron wasn’t sure. She had never been so unsure of any of her feelings. But at the very least, she was certain she wanted to see Tiffany one more time. Just a conversation—someone to finally share these deep-seeded woes inside of her.

“Fate will bring us together,” those were her last words, thought Marron. Was leaving it all up to fate truly the right call? She wasn’t sure, but Marron sighed and just walked to wherever her legs took her, not really thinking about her destination. Was this what Tiffany meant by fate? Either way, Marron knew that eventually she needed to return home, eyes glued to the ground as her head hung low.

As Marron made her way back to her family’s estate, she heard a familiar voice that was music to her ears. “Ah, you were in the crowd. Hiya!” Marron’s eyes widened as she looked up and saw Tiffany, most of her body hidden by a thick robe. Yet her voice was unmistakable. It was so bubbly, high-pitched, and just full of life. “You look like you want to say something, so go ahead. I’m all ears.”

It would still take a bit of time to reach the estate by foot. In all honesty, Marron had all the time in the world. All she needed to do was remain calm while she spoke. Yet, as she opened her mouth to speak, her words came out in-between choked sobs as her heart, for the first time in her life, finally belt out her true feelings. “I-I want to be free. I want to be a sorceress like you…!”

Tiffany stared, face blank as Marron cried out her feelings. Then, once Marron finished, Tiffany smile and gently wiped away the tears from Marron’s burning cheeks. “It’s hard out there, for us. Now, tell me your situation. I can’t be your knight and save you from this situation, but I can give you a hand—enough that you can go ahead and go forth on your own.”

Tiffany didn’t believe in saving people—she preferred to give them the strength to fly on their own. “This is the only way we’ll be able to grant ourselves our freedom. I can’t whisk them away from their misery, but I’ll give the strength to escape with their own strength and power,” and it was with that philosophy that she gave Marron a certain talisman, a sheet of paper with just enough room to write a name on. “You envy the men around your life, don’t you? Well, this is a way to find a temporary hiding spot. From there, it’s up to you to decide what you wish to do.”

It would take a sorceress of exception talent and skill to use the talisman properly, but Tiffany assured Marron that she would be able to use it properly. And then, the two made their way to the estate. Tiffany made sure to hide herself in the hood of the oversized cloak, and a quick spell managed to disguise her voice—making her out to be a raspy, old man far too small for their old robes. Marron had to admit, it was an excellent disguise. “It’s sometimes easier to just transform the body to be male temporary,” Tiffany chuckled. “I know a sorceress or two that prefer that route, but not me. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

Marron could only nod, only half paying attention. The talisman, despite being just a piece of water, was heavy in her hands. Her mind was racing to figure out what she was going to do with it. There were many candidates in her mind, but she continued going back to that young man that barely interested her still. Ector… he was handsome, but he held little interest for her.

Perhaps… could there be… a chance?

Marron hoped that Tiffany did not notice her racing heart nor her sweaty palms.

Tiffany, disguised as a Sir Leon, arrived soon after with Marron in tow. She hid it off well with Marron’s parents while Marron made an excuse to return to got to bed early. As she lied on her bed, thoughts still full of Tiffany, she made herself a promise: that one day she would once again share the feelings in her heart with that woman who lived so freely.

For Marron’s plant to work, it needed to occur on a day that Ector and her were alone and isolated. She picked a day when her parents were attending a play and invited Ector over to her home. Most of the staff had finished for the day and returned to their quarters, so it was just Ector and her in one of the manor’s spacious rooms. They sat on a couch next to a lit fireplace, doing nothing but sharing stories about themselves. Marron knew that she needed to understand Ector as well as she could for her plan to go right.

"Milord, would you like for me to draw you a relaxing bath before we settle in for the night?" Ector eagerly agreed, and Marron excused herself to the wash room. Half an hour later, she called for Ector to go into the washroom.

Ector walked in, expecting to see Marron waiting for him, but he found no one there. Confused, he peered at the bath and saw the warm water with an odd shade of blue. Still, he trusted his new wife, so he quickly disrobed and climbed inside.

"Haaaah..." he let out a breath of relief as the warm water relaxed his aching muscles. He had spent the hours before joining his wife training and practicing his magical skills. There was a bit of pity in his heart regarding his wife's inability to practice such a talent, but he knew that women needed to follow their role in society.

Unbeknownst to him, Marron was making use of her talents right then and there. In the form of a liquid that resembled the bathroom and hiding just beneath the water's surface, she quickly made her invasion.

"Huh! Wh-What the--?! AAHHH, AHHH!" Ector could only moan in pain and pleasure as the liquid began suddenly entering all available orifices. From bellybutton to urethra, all of it was an opportunity for her to invade.

Once all of Marron slipped inside, Ector collapsed onto the tub, splashing water on the floor as his body convulsed. Inside, a magical battle was taking place, and he was losing. Marron swiftly bound his soul in a spiritual gag and sealed it away in the depths of his heart. Then, she spread her essence throughout his strong, virile body.

Each limb and extremity became warm as Marron took over. She wiggled his toes, flexed his thighs, licked his lips, and cracked the crick in his neck with a strong and masculine sigh. She raised his hand, looking at the back and admiring the fine hairs that ran up and down. To find true freedom within such a society, Marron needed a disguise. What better disguise than her own husband?

For the rest of the night, Marron experimented with Ector’s body and soul. It was easy for Marron to slip inside of Ector while in private and then leave his body while still having him under her influence while in public. Essentially, Ector was something of a disguise for her to wear.

~o~

Time passed, and Ector and Marron happily wed. The two settled down in a small yet still lovely little home near the border between both of their lands.

Suddenly, seemingly out of the blue, “Ector” announced to both families of his new love of research, and he wanted nothing but his wife’s company while he studied and experiment with new types of magic. He attended various seminars, met like-minded individuals, and furthered the field of sorcery with his extraordinary mind—of which none of his peers had suspected he possessed. Meanwhile, his wife remained in the background, subtly taking care of the housework and always a force of encouragement for Ector.

Marron smirked inwardly to herself as she rubbed a sleeping Ector’s back with a single finger. Another day, another list of research goals she wanted to work on. “All right, Ector. Let’s get to work.” She slipped inside of him once more by turning into the odd-colored liquid, and once more his body trembled and ached as Marron’s spirit overwhelmed her husband’s.

“There we go,” said Marron, stretching in Ector’s body and giggling as she felt the bones pop! She rose from the bed, most of Ector’s clothes laying discarded, and made her way to her study. Several tomes lay opened, and she intended to get through most of them today. Once more she began her research, finally satisfied with her life by stealing his.

Body-a-Day #1: Smoke

There existed a certain forbidden ritual allowed mortals to open up a portal to Hell and use its unholy flames to burn one particular target. The flames of Hell were unique, being much harder to douse than a normal inferno. This quality assured the caster that their target would be eliminated. But opening up a portal to Hell was a price that nobody could pay the cost.

On a certain day in a certain city, a particularly bold businessman who happened to be an amateur mage had used such a ritual to set the home of a rival co-worker ablaze. While the home itself had been miraculously empty at the time, firefighters still struggled to combat the otherworldly fire. After a horrifying hour of hard work and exhaustion with little progress made, the flames almost seemed to… give up.

While some believed that a miracle had happened, it couldn’t be further from the truth. A demon, Asmodeus, had slipped through the crack between the realms and commanded the flames to surrender. He needed the firefighters to end it quickly and raise any suspicion.

With the flames finally put out, a few firefighters inspected the razed remains of the home to see what could be salvaged. One of them, a volunteer by the name of Hank Sutherland, walked just the tiniest bit away from his fellow firefighters. Asmodeus had his target, now he just needed to take him.

~o~

A cold chill ran up Hank’s spine as he looked around. It felt as though something was watching him. Nervous, he called out, “H-Hello…?” Yet his only response was a column of smoke rising from beneath the burst wreckage and forcing itself into his mouth. “MMRGH! MMM…!” Hank gasped and choked as the demon flowed inside of him, filling his lungs and effectively silencing his cries from the ears of the other firefighters.

Strength failing, Hank fell backwards as the last of Asmodeus’ smoky essence filled his body. He groaned and writhed on the ashy floor before his eyes turned the same shady of darkened gray as Asmodeus. Then, his body grew stiff and he fell unconscious.

Hank awoke to an unfamiliar white ceiling and several cables attached to him. Cleared from duty for the rest of the week to rest, Hank eventually made his way back to his apartment. As soon as front door shut, Asmodeus groaned and cracked his neck. He let out a guttural groan as he adjusted himself properly inside his new flesh—as though he was stretching out a new pair of shoes.

Hands ran up against the man chest and stomach as the new Hank moaned as he experienced the pleasures of the flesh. He walked over to the bathroom with a swagger than the real Hank never had.

“Now then,” he said to his own reflection. “Let’s find the mortal who summoned me here. I haven’t eaten a soul in what feels like centuries.” Hank bellowed in laughter as a new playground was now in his grasp.

Body a Day #8: Football

Coach Bryce could feel his hair turning gray as he thought about the team’s current dilemma. “It’s a real shitshow,” he sighed, looking over to gauge the reaction of his beautiful coworker, Sharon Fletcher; she was a renowed researcher at the university and the target of the coach’s heart.

Ever since the two of them had met, Coach Bryce had tried to ask her out for some kind of date, but she was either oblivious or uninterested. However, such a cold reaction only served to fuel Coach Bryce’s passion.

Today, Sharon was once again uncaring to Coach Bryce’s bemoaning. She simply unzipped her lunch-bag and pulled out her meal. Bryce spoke again, voice just a tiny bit louder so she could definitely hear, “All of my players, suspended. Can you believe it?”

Finally, Sharon’s gaze met the coach’s. “All of them? Oh wow, I knew that they had done something wrong in that party last week, but I had no idea it was something of that magnitude.”

“Yeah, well… can’t say they don’t deserve it. But we’ve got a game coming up, so we’re gonna have to just concede it,” said Coach Bryce. He inwardly smiled to himself as he saw the normally stoic Sharon’s expression squeeze into a look of genuine sympathy. At least he had that small comfort in such turbulent times.

However, Sharon’s expression quickly turned into something akin to a predatory grin. A shiver went down the coach’s spine as she began to titter. “Tell me something, Coach Bryce,” she said, leaning in to whisper into his ear. “Can I trust you to keep a secret…? And also sign an NDA beforehand? I think I have a solution that’ll make both you and the Dean happy.

Coach Bryce, neck sweaty and goosebumps running down his arms, just said, “I-I’ll do whatever you want.”

~o~

The Delphi Project was the university’s pride and joy. It was also the most highly-guarded secret the university had. “Delphi was where Apollo’s oracle rested and delivered her visions of the future. It was believed to have been the center of the world by the Ancient Greeks, and…” Sharon continued the history lesson, but Coach Bryce soon stopped listening. Instead, he fumbled around with the buttons of the uncomfortable lab coat he had been given prior to entering. Not only that but the goggles were annoying as well.

“Please do not remove that,” said Sharon with a tight tone and a forced smile. “Lab policies, as I’m sure you’re aware. Right, coach?” Embarrassed, Coach Bryce gave a grunt of affirmation, and Sharon continued the tour. She continued to speak some nonsense or another before stopping in front of a large machine with two pods that resembled tanning booths connected to it. “The Delphi Project concerns itself primarily with human consciousness. Essentially, it is the next step to reaching the digitization and transfer of ‘the soul.’ Some of us here even believe that this is how humanity can reach this place called ‘Paradise,’ or ‘Nirvana.’”

“Oh yeah, heard of their music once or twice," said Coach Bryce, enthusiastic now that he could participate in the discussion. "Dunno if it’s my cup o’ Joe, to be honest, but to each their own!” he said with boisterous laughter.

Sharon’s smile seemed to grow even tighter and her voice became the tiniest bit more strained as she spoke. “Right. Well, as I was saying, the purpose of this machine is the transfer of consciousness. While we have been able to digitize and transfer the human consciousness—the soul, as some would call it—we haven’t been able to find any sort of machine with the space large enough to store it. Nothing… except for another human vessel.”

In other words, the only thing that could be transferred is one person to another. It took a few more explanations for Coach Bryce to understand that, but he got the basic idea. Once he understood that, he could guess what was Sharon’s plan.

“So what you want to do is transfer other people into the bodies of my team, so technically we can still play while still punishing the knuckleheads.” Technical or scientific knowledge wasn’t his forte, but his mind was still crafty and strategic. Once he understood all the pieces on the table, he could put them all together quickly. “Will the Dean even agree to this? Seems… kinda risky. And will my players be okay once this is all over?”

Sharon smile sweetly and assured him that all tests have shown that both parties have suffered no side-effects from the experiments they’ve done. “However, if there is even a single dissenting voice, we will not go through with the experiment. That last thing we would want to do is carry this out without anyone’s explicit consent. We are strict with ethics here. As for the Dean, I believe I can convince her. Delphi is our pride and joy, even if we can’t be out and proud about it. Of course, there is one more caveat to this whole thing you must agree to, coach.”

~o~

To say that the players were shocked and horrified would be an understatement. Coach Bryce gathered them all in the locker room to break the news, which only made their voices even more irritating as they echoed in the small room. Some of the players cried foul, others argued that his was invasive to their rights, while a few let out a few swears about letting a bunch of losers parade around in their bodies. “All right, that’s enough!” Coach Bryce shouted. “I know it’s a weird prospect, but if we want even the slightest chance of making play-offs, we can’t afford to forfeit this next game.”

As always, it was easy for the coach to rile up his players. None of them dared to argue when Coach Bryce brought up the incident that put them in this Catch-22. “And, if I’m being honest… I’ll be in the same boat as y’all,” he said, looking down to avoid his team’s shocked looks as he recounted what Sharon had told him.

“Day of the game, I’ll have to borrow your body in order to properly observe the test subjects during our most important trial run. Don’t worry, you’ll only lose your body for a weekend, at most,” Sharon had said with a most bewitching smile.

Thinking about her tone and voice as she said all of that, Coach Bryce couldn’t help but grow the slightest bit aroused. He hoped that none of his players could see how flushed he was recalling that night. Of course, he also omitted that last part—there was no need for the team to know how uneven the whole deal actually was.

“Even after all of this, we’re still a team!” Coach Bryce suddenly cried out. Not only did he need to convince those last few fence-sitters, but he also needed to distract himself before he got hard in front of all the players. He hadn’t been able to get off properly ever since a messy break-up with his former girlfriend, so Sharon’s siren voice kept bouncing around his skull.

A nice speech would be a good distraction for now. He continued to bellow out platitudes about staying together and how they were all in one boat at the end of the day. “So, please consider. This may be our chance to not throw away everything we’ve worked all semester for. Think about it. Later… we’ll put it to a vote. If we come to a unanimous vote, we’ll go through with it. So if anyone feels uncomfortable, we’ll decline and throw the match.” He retreated back to his office and took a deep breath. Already, there was a plan forming in his head.

When Coach Bryce returned to take the vote, he made sure that the votes could not be anonymous. Just by glancing at the expressions on the players’ faces, he could tell that the majority was willing to go through with it, but there were a few sparse dissenters spread throughout the crowd. However, when he asked, “All in favor?” everyone raised their hands. The peer pressure assured that their fate was sealed. Coach Bryce nodded and told the team that he’d email them Sharon’s instructions.

Later that night, Coach Bryce jerked himself off as he imagined the idea of Sharon being inside of him.

~o~

Game night came and went, and nobody in the audience nor the opposing team suspected any foul play. All the players performed as well as they usually did, baring a minor hiccup or two. The only anomaly that anyone noticed was Coach Bryce, usually watching with a red-face and barking orders at the team, was perfectly stone-faced the entire match, even when the team just barely clutched out a win.

Later, Dr. Sharon Fletcher looked down Bryce’s thick, hairy hands. Due to the various tests they’ve run with Delphi, being a male wasn’t new to her, but she was still surprised by just how masculine the coach was. “Ah, I got distracted again,” she said to herself as she returned to the report on her laptop. It was difficult to type at the speeds she was comfortable with, but that was the price to pay for valuable data at such a close distance.

“Overall, subjects found themselves quickly adapting to their new forms, which supports to the hypothesis that muscle memory is one of the most important factors during learning. It’s possible that…” Coach Bryce’s thick, masculine fingers stopped and stared at the screen. It was one of Sharon’s most frustrating part of being a scientist. She loved getting her hands on interesting data and interpreting it, but it was when she had to stop and write down her thoughts that she found herself unable to commit for long periods of time. “This will revolutionize the field of learning, but…” She let out a sigh before packing up her laptop to leave. Coach Bryce’s office, with all of its football posters, brights flags, and pictures was not the ideal environment to sit down and type out her reports. She would continue in the library tomorrow. With that settled, she left the office and began the trek to her home for the weekend.

Just before Sharon transferred into Bryce’s body, he had given her a copy of the key to his apartment. “It’d be odd if they saw my entering and leaving your home,” he had told her. Well, he had elaborated on the point for quite a while, Sharon hadn’t been interested in his hearing his logic. Her thoughts then and even now were, Why bother caring about who sees you spending time with you? It was nothing to do with how well you can do your job.

Either way, Sharon took the bus to and allowed his muscular legs to carry her to Bryce’s apartment. She thought about it as another opportunity to further her research, but there was something so fascinating about just moving about with Coach Bryce. His natural, mature gait was addicting. Just for research’s sake (her own fun), she continued to walk around the hallways and even up the stairs, forgoing the elevator. Even after climbing several stories, she didn’t even feel the least bit tired. In her old body, she would’ve been halfway dead and anemic by the time she reached Bryce’s apartment, but now she was hardly out of breath. Fascinating, she thought to herself, mistaking her lust for curiosity.

Without thinking, Sharon made her way to Bryce’s apartment and began to shed off his clothes until her borrowed body was clad in nothing but a shirt and a pair of boxers. Oh, huh… I hadn’t meant to take off so much of his clothes, she thought to herself, but her body had moved without her knowledge. Still, Sharon saw no reason to not allow it to continue. It was better to allow the body to continue its natural habits.

It was for that reason that, after drawing a bath, Sharon dipped Coach Bryce’s into the bathtub and relaxed his sore muscles. “Phew… oh, this feels so nice,” said Sharon. After such a long day of experiment, research, and overworking herself, it was nice to relax in a bath. If she could, she would spend all day in a bath and enjoy this nice, burly body. She raised his arms and rested them behind his head, apparently a natural position for the coach to be in with a bath. With soap and a loofah sponge, Sharon explored Bryce’s body. His personality wasn’t anything special, but she enjoyed the way that his body moved whenever he worked out in the gym or in the field outside in the lawn. The sweat dripping from his bearded chin was nice. Usually, Sharon wasn’t really interested in dating men, but their bodies were nice to look at.

And, as she groped and massaged various parts of Bryce’s body, Sharon realized just how nice it was to touch them like this. “Ohh… ohh…! Oh my god!” Somehow, this was the most sensitive body she had ever transferred into. Was the coach simply that much more sensitive than the other hosts, or was the process itself magnifying the sensitivity to touch? Sharon’s scientific mind was going on overdrive while just about every part of her was busy indulging in Coach Bryce’s appealing and overly sexual body. “C-Coach Bryce, y-you’re so… ngh… ahh…!” The moans that escaped his lips drove Sharon insane as well. It became a feedback loop: Sharon, hoping to draw out more data and more moans from Coach Bryce groped his body, which only drew out more automatic moans from her borrowed lungs.

It was also the strength and the sheer amount of command that Sharon had. The thick, almost sausage-like, fingers and powerful core and moved at her command. Coach Bryce was like a glove for her to put on, nothing more. The power behind it was intoxicated. Each muscle obeyed Sharon, and it was because she deserved it.

Coach Bryce’s body stiffened as it felt the inevitable happen. The waves of pleasure that nearly threaten to shatter her very mind. Sharon grit her borrowed teeth, groans of guttural and masculine ecstasy only just barely restrained for the first few torrents of cum that launched high into the air. However, Sharon could not contain it for much longer. She tilted her head back, tongue sticking out as Coach Bryce’s hips thrust on their own as the last of the world-shattering climax erupted through the jiggling, hairy frame.

This is the first time I’ve ever masturbated with such intensity, Sharon thought to herself. She had explored the other test subjects—other professors and coaches at the univerity—and Coach Bryce was definitely her favorite. She had to test out just how and why his body was so sensitive. Yes, she needed more tests. She needed to take over the bodies of all her previous test subjects and continue to explore and compare the pleasure that came from each of them. Only then would her hunger for pleasure and data—two things that were basically the same to her—would be satiated.

Of course, that should be easy to accomplish. Just about every person in campus owes me a favor, and the Dean will certainly enjoy this delicious data—especially if I record it all for her. I wonder how much freedom I can have if I offer to give the Dean such an opportunity? I’m sure she’ll love it now that we know it’s perfectly safe.

Sharon sighed and sank even further into the warm, now slightly milkier, water. Her new muscles certainly seemed to enjoy the sensation. Now all she had to do was to just enjoy the weekend in the perfect body for it.