Kristin Takes Over

Can I take over your body for a little bit? It won't hurt, I promise. In fact, I think you'll enjoy it.

Actually, I'm not really asking. The question was more of a formality. I'm going to take over your body, Stephanie. But like I said, you will enjoy yourself. I'll make sure of it.

I've been watching you in class for the past couple of weeks now. You're gorgeous, you know that, Stephanie? You probably do. You've probably had boys paying attention to you for your whole life. You'd never pay attention to me, Kristin, that short, skinny fellow freshman with the poorly cut micro bangs who sits across from you in Anthropology.

I've noticed you, though. I've noticed your hourglass figure, your full breasts, your long hair, your swan neck. I've fantasized about just such a moment, and now it's here. You're sitting at the table across from me in the library, and no one else is here except for one student sitting on a couch 50 feet away from us. He's got his headphones on, and he's reading. I've got you all to myself, Stephanie.

When I hit puberty (I know, with my skinny body and flat chest, it looks like I'm still 12, but I turned 18 a couple of months ago), I figured out that I could control people's bodies. I can't step inside of them -- it's more like controlling a marionette. The past five years or so have been a trial-and-error of figuring out exactly how my power works. I learned I had to be careful thanks to Lauren Bergstrom, who made some wild and highly accurate accusations against me.

But enough about me. Let's focus on you, Stephanie. Let's focus on how very good you're about to feel.

You're looking down at your book. Your eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. I'm concentrating, too, but not on a textbook. I focus my power on you.

I watch as your expression turns quizzical. What's going on, you wonder. There's a tingling sensation in the back of your head. That's the most discomfort you'll feel, I swear. And even the tingling doesn't feel so bad. It's not unpleasant, it's just unusual.

And...I'm in. I've got my hooks into your brain. Relax, Stephanie, I tell you. Your furrowed eyebrows smooth. A dreamy expression blossoms on your beautiful face. Relax, I repeat. You can relax. You can just sit here, and relax because you're about to feel very, very good.

There's a small smile on your face. It can't get that much bigger -- we wouldn't want to attract any suspicion if someone else were to walk into the library. You're just daydreaming. This is what's going to happen your daydream: it's going to feel like someone is rubbing your back. Do you like back rubs, Stephanie?

You roll your shoulders, and your smile widens a little bit more. It looks like you're enjoying this. Good.

What if the imaginary hands rubbing your back were to move to your front? What if they were to oh-so-gently to play with your nipples? How would you like that?

Your eyes close, and your head lolls back on your shoulders ever so slightly. It would seem like you do like that. I wonder what kind of sexual experiences you've had. Did you let the sweaty high school quarterback paw at you on prom night? Now that you're in college, are you the dish du jour at frat houses?

Guys can't make you feel as good as I can, Stephanie. They don't know which spots on your body will bring you the most pleasure. They don't know how to touch you, either. They're always just a bit too rough, right? I'm gentle. And unlike guys, I know exactly which spots will set you off.

Playing with your nipples is making you wet, isn't it? I watch you shift in your chair slightly. If I could check below the table, I bet I'd see a damp spot in those leggings you're wearing. Hmm, what if the fingers playing with your nipples moved to your clitoris? I bet you'd like that even more.

Your smile widens further. Not too wide, Stephanie, I tell you. We don't want to attract unnecessary attention. You bite down on your lip instead, which is very hot. I watch you inhale sharply as invisible fingers stroke you. I wish I could be inside of your body right now, feeling what you feel. I'll have to settle from observing you from a distance.

And I can use my imagination. I imagine you're feeling very good right now, Stephanie. I imagine warm currents of pleasure are flowing through your body. I imagine your nipples hardening in your bra. I imagine the pleasure is growing stronger and stronger, and your body, that beautiful body of yours, is getting warmer and warmer. You don't want the feeling to stop, I bet.

I'll have to settle for watching your body begin to shake a bit. I'm not sure I can stop you from shaking -- that might wake you up, and as much as I don't want anyone to notice what I'm doing to you, I do want you to have this orgasm. We're lucky. The only other person in the library right now is that guy sitting on the couch. He's engrossed in his book.

And you're engrossed in your orgasm. You have to be quiet, Stephanie. You can't moan. You let out a couple of soft noises -- "uh, uh, uhhh." I can barely hear you from where I'm sitting, but I know what just happened. And it's incredibly sexy.

Your shoulders slump a bit. Alright, I'm going to give you your body back, Stephanie. Thanks for letting me use it.

I watch your brow furrow again in confusion. You don't understand what just happened, why your nipples feel tight in your bra and why your panties are wet. It looks like you shrug it off pretty quickly, though. From where I'm sitting, you seem more concerned that your sweater (navy looks very good on you, Stephanie) is rubbing up against you in uncomfortable ways.

And then, you make eye contact with me. I quickly look away.

I didn't give you any suggestions to approach me. I just told you you'd feel good for a bit afterwards. I definitely didn't tell you to talk to me. Yet, that's exactly what you're doing. You should just go back to your dorm. Maybe masturbate for a bit (hell, that's what I'll do if my roommate's not home. I've gotten very wet myself). But don't talk to me. Just ignore me. Pretend I don't exist. Everyone else is very good at that. You're not, though.

"You're in one of my classes, right?" you say. You're standing right next to the desk I'm sitting at.

I look up. "Oh, yeah, I think we're in Anthro together."

"I'm Stephanie."

"I'm Kristin."

You bite your lip again. Why are your lips so full and juicy, Stephanie?

I watch you squirm. I guess my suggestion to feel good has stuck. You'll just go back to your dorm and figure out how to make yourself feel even better. And I'll continue to fantasize about you in class, and about the one time I controlled your body.

"Um, did you want to come back to my room?" You're trying to sound casual. It's adorable.

And a big surprise. My eyes widen. Did you just do what I thought you just did -- invite me to your room? If anything, I expected you to invite the guy on the couch back to your place. This is a shock. You seem surprised, too. You clamp your hand over your mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that weird? It's just that—"

I muster up courage I didn't know I had. "It's fine. I'd love to come over. Lead the way."

Your smile widens, and you look relieved. I smile, too, because I know I've watched the first orgasm you'll have today, Stephanie. And I'm going to teach you how to give me one, too.

You turn to me and smile shyly. "I'm glad I ran into you at the library today."

I put my hand on your arm. "Me too, Stephanie. Me too."