Out Of Body, Out Of Mind

I hadn't realised how good this shirt looked on me. Nor how weird I looked with my hair parting on this side - usually I saw it in the mirror, flipped. Strange, how a bit of a changed perspective can work.

I stood. I walked to the office door, and locked it audibly.

'There, locked,' I said in his voice. For the camera.

I walked over to the limp, visibly slack version of myself, and stroked my face. Neil's hands trembled slightly as I made his thumb dip into my mouth, tracing my lips. He knew what he wanted to do - it was animalistic. He had wanted me as his cock-slut for so long, and now he was taking me. He literally wasn't able to stop himself.

His eagerness made everything so much worse, yet so much better.

I pulled Neil's hand from my mouth, and instead unzipped his trouser zip. I let them fall to the floor, and kicked them off his thick feet, unveiling the maroon underwear beneath. His cock, half-hard and bulging through the fabric, wasn't able to hide his enjoyment.

My enjoyment.

I could deny it if I wanted, but there was something about the power play that appealed to me. Doing this to myself, knowing the only 'victim' was my boss, who was about to live out a fantasy, only made things sweeter.

I pulled the boxers down, and let Neil's cock - longer and thicker than any I had taken before - flop out onto my shoulder. I moved the limp vision of myself's jaw so her - my - pretty mouth fell open. Inviting.

I stroked my cock, feeling how Neil knew this was wrong, so so wrong, and yet feeling a severe lack of resistance. If he thought he could get away with this, he would have done this a long time ago, I realised.

How many other men were one little push away from something like this?

I stroked Neil's cock hard, rubbing the sensitive tip against my cheek, my lips. Oh, it was soft. Wet. Warm.

This was addictive.

As I let the limp form of me accept the head of Neil's cock into my mouth, the rim of the thick tip pushing past my pink lips, I sighed.

'One pill in your coffee, and I can do anything I want,' I moaned, remembering the plan. I had to make him look guilty. I didn't intend to share it with anyone, of course - but he needn't know that. The fear of this coming out was what was going to keep me safe. I was a victim, he was a rapist - that's what the story would be.

When in fact, I was both. I was going to rape myself.

It was a stark realisation.

I was going to use this body - this vessel that didn't belong to me - to do something abhorrent and wrong... yet all I felt was lust. Not just my own, either. Neil was loving this, too. He loved the velvet of my lips catching on his cockhead, the feel of my hair in his fist as we lifted my head, turning my mouth so we could push our cock deeper, the slick of my tongue wet and luxurious.

Neil was in heaven - I could feel him, his body shuddering as he finally acted on his urges. I wondered, if I backed out now and left him to it, 'waking up' beneath him, would he stop? Or would he really rape me - fuck my face, and my tight sex-slave cunt that he imagined?

God, his fantasies were starting to blur into mine. It was dangerous, but so fucking hot, especially as we lived it out, pressing the fat of his stomach against my forehead, our cock being squeezed blissfully as we forced our way into my throat.

I had never been able to do this to a cock - to deepthroat without gagging, coughing and spluttering. Now, though, my stretched features took the invasion quietly, without fight. I felt the heat boil in Neil's balls as he struggled to contain himself, the excitement of living this out bringing him close to climax already.

So, I turned up the heat. I gripped my own head in his hands, and skullfucked myself. I felt the warmth of my mouth, throat, wet and unresisting and warm, a slick delicious passage for my lust to fuck. Together, we rammed the meat, thick enough to strain against my neck, until there was a visible bulge beneath my jaw, each thrust pushing the bulge tower and lower, aiming for my cleavage.

We pulled my body almost side-ways on the chair, so I was lying flat enough for our fucking to become animalistic, raw and desperate. His cock stretched my poor throat, but I didn't care - it felt too fucking good. All I wanted to do was cum, to spray Neil's thick cum down my throat, and all over my face and tits.

Tits - I wanted to see my tit. Neil's fingers quickly went to my shirt, upside down and bouncing with our thrusts, and popped open the top button. Then the next, and the next, until my bra-clad breasts were open beneath us, sensual globes that shifted with each pump of our cock down my throat. I had never seen my tits as beautiful before, but through Neil's eyes, over the crest of his stomach with my face obscured by his belly, so all I could see was my bulging neck and flushed, bouncing tits, it was hard not to see the appeal.

'God, I love your fucking throat,' I moaned, Neil's voice low and husky. 'I'm gonna cum straight into your stomach, and all over your fucking tits.'

His hands reached down and pulled my bra down, letting me access the soft flesh of my breasts. Neil's fingers, thick and sweaty, groped at me the way he had only fantasized about, and I could feel his orgasm building in his balls. It was hot, and ready, and I could tell it was going to be a big one.

With a smile, I remembered what had happened - must have happened - with Zara. We hadn't shared her body. I had replaced her, and she had been in me. That would explain how my body was in the corridor, and the look she gave me. We swapped places.

Time to do the same to Neil, and give him a taste of his own lust - and a taste of his own cum, too.

I waited until the last moment, letting the feeling of his balls slap against the bridge of my nose, the length of his cock being devoured by my unanswering throat, his fingers playing at my tits and nipples, enjoying my body in the way he had always wanted.

Then, I forced him out.

It was an odd feeling, but in no way a bad one. All at once, it was as though the sharing of his body had been somehow sharing the sensations, and when that stopped, they snapped into focus. The pleasure was a wave of bliss - angry, pent-up, selfish bliss that fed off every urge Neil had in him about me.

Beneath me, Neil woke up in my body - a cock down his throat, a fat man fucking him like the sexslave he had always wanted, tweaking his nipples as he was held down. The sudden struggling beneath unlocked a sick element of this power-play in me, and I crested over.

The cum poured from me, an unending stream of fucking lightning streaming from my balls, into my own throat. I watched as Neil sputtered, choking and coughing, and I held my own jaw in his hands to keep him in place. He started to swallow, desperate not to suffocate, and it felt incredible - the muscles of my throat milked my cock, sucking his cum down.

Before I finished, I wrenched back and let the cock pop from my abused mouth, cum spraying across my shocked face and flushed chest. Neil flailed and thrashed, as I felt the orgasm he had been denied, the bliss running through him unending.

'Say thank you,' I said in his voice, before flicking that switch again.

Heat. Pain.

*

'Thank you,' I answered as me, lying on my back, cum covering my face - warm and wet and thick. My words hurt when they left my throat, so I coughed, hamming it up for the camera. 'Please, don't hurt me anymore.'

I sat up, getting my fucked face and covered chest in my phone's shot, before stopping the recording. That should do it.

'What...' Neil said, the confusion on his face well-founded, but ultimately besides the point.

'I have a video of what you just did to me,' I said, holding my phone up. His flushed features, red as the maroon underwear he was wearing, drained to pale pink. 'If you tell anyone about what happened in here, I send this to every lawyer in the city, and your wife. Understand?'

He nodded, too scared to even ask why.

'And I want a pay rise. Fifteen pounds an hour.'

'I can't-'

'Do it,' I said again. 'Or this goes public.'

'I can't afford it,' he argued, almost making me feel sorry. But I wasn't leaving here without what I needed - it was too far past that now. I'd seen inside his head, all of the awful things he wanted to do. Had done. On camera. Mercy was tempting, but he wasn't deserving of it.

'How much would you lose if I sent this to your daughter?' I asked.

That shut him up.

I pulled some tissues off his desk, and wiped my face off, then another for my chest, before buttoning up. Maybe this didn't have to be a total loss for him. I did have fun, after all.

'No one knows about this,' I said, and he nodded. 'I have this to destroy you if you don't do what I want.' He nodded again. 'And, if I want to - I might find myself under your desk at 8:30 in the morning, until 6 at night. Would that be so bad?'

He frowned, confused. Then, he shook his head, tentatively.

'Then keep quiet, and we might be able to have some fun.' I winked, threw the cum-soaked tissues into his bin, and stood. 'See you tomorrow. Sir.'

And I walked out.

~5~

Ho-ly shit. I couldn't believe I'd done that. I couldn't believe I'd had the balls. I had, on camera, mind-controlled and possessed my fucking boss, raped myself, and then used that film to black-mail him - not only into silence, but into a potential sex-slave fantasy role-playing thing I'd picked up from his wank-bank fantasies.

It was hot, to be fair. And him being... disgusting somehow only made it hotter. The way he saw me, like I was some incredible thing, completely out of his league, and I had such power over him, and yet I would be submitting willingly to suck his cock for hours on end?

There was something about it that just made my pussy soak.

And it did. The entire journey home, I was dripping like a faulty shower, my pussy aching to be attended to despite having orgasmed by-proxy twice today.

Speaking of, the day had brought with it some confirmation of almost unbelievable truths. I was psychic. Or, I could possess people. Or swap minds with them. Or something.

It was a bit nebulous, and I didn't have a complete picture of what was going on, but I knew a lot more now than I did this morning. For one, I wasn't going crazy. Two, it was probably as a result of that injection I had received. Three, I was able to 'share' mental space with people, or 'swap' with them. Four, when I 'shared' with someone, my body went limp - meaning I would have to be careful about doing that and leaving my body unattended.

This explained what had happened with Zara, and with Neil (twice) - and I had proof. I had the video.

The only question left was how the fuck did this happen to me?

Of course, I knew that the answer lay in whatever chemical had been introduced to me in that trial. Martin had texted me saying they'd stopped the trials, so there was a good chance no one else had had this happen to them - but was I sure about that? What if there was someone else out there who had this... ability?

What if they went public?

Would that implicate me? Make me a target?

It dawned on me, as I approached the outside of my run-down block of flats, just as the rain started to darken the pavements of urban Newcastle, that I might be a target. Someone owned that chemical. Someone who was looking into psychic abilities in humans. If another candidate had this outcome, and they blabbed, someone might be on their way to pack me into a van and whisk me off to a lab somewhere, ready for experimentation.

Phoebe, stop. That's crazy. Crazy thoughts from a tired head. This wasn't some bad movie - this was real life. And as crazy as things were, they weren't going to get silly.

Even so, I found myself unnerved by a black van parked outside the building, and hurried up to the stairs, going just a little faster than I usually would, back to the safety of my flat. I didn't pass Alex, nor Zara, and was quietly thankful for the lack of complications. I was inside, behind a locked door, and the world could bugger off for a bit.

To be honest, it was hard to be too overwhelmed by the events of the day when I still smelled of Neil's cum, and I could still taste him at the back of my throat. My whole neck was sore - unsurprisingly - and I felt like I needed something with a lot of dairy to try and soothe it a little. I wasn't sure if that was a sure-fire method, but something needed to be done. And a shower. I needed a shower.

As I dug through a pile of clean-but-unsorted washing for a towel, I heard my phone buzz in my bag, and quickly pulled it out. Martin.

Hi Phoebe. Please get in touch when you can. Serious things to discuss. Martin.

Well, that seemed a little disconcerting.

Before I was given the grace of responding, however, I heard three hard knocks on the flat door. Knock! Knock-knock!

I huffed, annoyed that I'd barely gotten a moment, and well-aware that I was still a mess from Neil, and whoever it was would notice. Even so, I went to the peep-hole, and saw Zara. She looked like lightning - the blonde hair a streak of white, her face thunderous, her eyes piercing and bright. She was angry.

'I know you're in,' she called, making me jump. 'I just saw you get back from whatever shit-hole you work in.'

Rude, I thought. Accurate, but rude.

'Zara,' Alex's voice called. He was just out of the stretched fishbowl-view I had through the peephole, but I could make out his shadow. 'Just leave it.'

'No! I want to know!'

'Know what? You're sounding crazy,' he said. He approached her now, and put his hand on her arm, gripping her tight enough for her to flinch away. Then, quietly, into her ear, he whispered, 'come.'

Like calling a dog.

I watched, as well, as Zara reacted. There was a slight hesitation, but she obeyed. I thought of how she called him 'daddy' in bed, how he fucked her with her face hidden in the bedsheets. This was either a kinky relationship, or an abusive one, and the pit in my stomach wasn't going to let it go without finding out.

So, I settled myself on the floor to stop my limp body from falling, and -

*

- I was inside Zara. In her head, just watching. It was strange, being a passenger. Like watching a movie, only I could feel her heart beating like a hummingbird, the grip of Alex's hand on her arm, the tension in her gut.

Oh, and the unapologetic wetness between her legs.

My god, she was desperate for it.

As Alex led her, me, us, back to their flat, I had a quite sift through her memories. Sure enough, they had been making out, and she had been asking her 'daddy' to fuck her for hours. He liked to tease her, make her a sloppy mess, touching her and making her beg, before fucking her like a machine for hours. She remembered how he bragged when they first met that he could fuck for an hour without cumming, and that night he had proved it to her. Bent over the kitchen top in her flat, he had pounded her until she came three times, unwavering.

She'd been his plaything ever since.

He led us in, and slammed the door behind us. 'Where were we?'

He barely stopped speaking before his hand was on our throat, his other hand sliding beneath our skirt. I realised we weren't wearing underwear as his finger slid effortlessly into her, and I moaned alongside her as Alex held her by the neck and cunt.

'Get me ready,' he ordered. Zara, we, nodded, and pulled our tank-top off in a moment. No bra underneath, and our nipples were erasers, hard and excited.

I allowed Zara to slide down him, pulling his half-hard cock from his trousers in an easy motion, out of his joggers. It was fat and wet at the tip, his pre-cum tasting salty and thick as Zara's lips wrapped around him.

*

I swapped to Alex, and hid in his mind as he was sucked off by Zara's expert mouth. She licked him, sucked hip, kissed him, and took him deep down her throat. Her slick tongue dragged against the underside of our cock, our foreskin slipping back as Zara moaned on us. It vibrated through us, as her hands gripped his waistband, pulling our trousers down so she could feel the leg hair on her tits.

She pulled herself back, and sucked a ball into her lips - a sensation I would have never guessed would feel as lewd and hot as it was. Her face was alight with sex and her matted hair and perky tits glowed with excitement. The hate Zara was ready to show me was now replaced with thoughtless need, and she had no idea it was me.

Alex pulled her hair in his fist, and Zara moaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure, 'yes, daddy.'

Oh, those words did something to this boy.

I felt the testosterone flood through us, like a shot of adrenaline, and winced as Alex yanked Zara up by the hair. She yelped, too, but let him drag her into the bathroom. I watched him push her over the sink, her face pressing into the mirror, as he lined up his cock to her weeping slit.

*

I moaned, gripping the cold porcelain as he slid into us. Zara was singing with lust, her body pressing back against Alex as he bottomed out inside us.

*

Our cock pressed deep inside, kissing the slightly tougher lips of her cervix. Her walls were wet heaven, and her moans like ambrosia for our lust.

*

'Fuck me, daddy,' we moaned, watching Zara's eyes bulge and mouth gape with a drooling tongue in the reflection.

*

Fucked her we did, our muscular frame an obelisk behind her, pounding her into the sink. 'So fucking tight!'

*

'Daddy!'

*

'Ugh- FUCK!'

*

'Da-ddyy-ahHH!'

Zara's orgasm was rounded, like a bowling ball to the heart - round but unstoppable, crushing everything else out of the way.

*

'ZEE!'

Alex's orgasm was sharper. Bullets, shooting out of us and into her, deep and piercing.

*

The floor of my short hallway was warm, heated by my steadily quickening heartbeat. Clearly, some part of my body had been affected by my mind's little exploration. Interesting.

I stood on shaky legs, and went back to the kitchen, only to see my phone blinking. A missed call from Martin, again.

I called him back straight away, leaning against the kitchen counter as I poured a glass of milk, the stench of cum all over me, impossible to ignore. As I looked at the milk in the glass, I could only see the cum, pouring from a cock that wasn't mine, onto the tits I owned, bouncing beneath me.

'Hello?' Martin answered, sounding concerned. 'Ms. Canning?'

I gasped as I came back to the world. 'Hi. Yes. Martin?'

'I'm glad you called,' he said, sounding concerned, or worried. It was hard to tell, I didn't know the man well, but there was clearly something going on. 'Are you able to meet?'

'Meet?'

'There are some things you should know. Off the record - I'm not supposed to tell you any of this. I could lose my funding, my reputation - we need to speak. There's a at the top of Meldon Terrace, do you know it?'

It was on the other side of the city, surrounded by housing. A bit out of the way, but it sounded like that was the point.

'What's going on?' I asked.

He sighed, and repeated his question. 'Do you know the cafe?'