Chapter #3Try possessing Dana Pak by: Seuzz   You cover the dozen miles back to town in good time, pausing to rest only briefly. Once back in the suburbs you slow down and keep to alleys and out of the light. You haven't much of a sense of time, but you figure it's close to three in the morning by the time you glimpse the Paks' house nestled in its cul-de-sac.
You sniff around the front door, but can discover no easily exploitable crack or gap, so you leap the wall into the back yard. You have better luck here: they haven't got a pet, but there is a dog-door built into the back door, so you stick your head through it. Here comes the tricky part: Can you exit a body as easily as you can take one over? You concentrate on the thought, and a tickle rises in the back of your throat. Your vision swims, and you feel yourself being vomited out of the wolf and onto a tile floor in your original, gooish body; the head of the unconscious wolf is wedged in the doggie door. You feel cold and exposed, and you mildly regret having to give up the wolf's body. But you put the feelings aside and concentrate on finding your way through the house.
All the lights are out, naturally, but you gain the stairs easily enough, and are able to quickly slither upstairs, where you face an empty bathroom and three closed bedroom doors. You've no idea which one is Dana's, however; though you've been to her house, she has never invited you upstairs. So you have to take your chances.
For no good reason, you choose the middle door as the one least likely to lead into the master bedroom, and squeeze yourself under it. By the soft light of a streetlight you make out a bed and a desk and some frilly, girly decorations, which suggests you've picked the right room. Of course, Dana has a fifteen-year-old sister, Sarah, and it might be her bedroom. But on reflection you decide it doesn't really matter. If you wind up possessing Sarah instead, you can always move into Dana later.
Silently you creep up the leg of the bed and onto the coverlets that bunch over a sleeping form. You make your way to the head of the bed and to a face that is turned away from you. You slide around to a mouth, which is open and breathing softly. Cautiously, you extend a pseudopod and probe. The sleeping figure swallows, but otherwise doesn't react. So you press in deeper, until you feel the back of a throat. Then you push yourself in.
You are shaken by a sudden, violent thrashing, but you are fully inside your target's mouth and pushing greedily in. Then there is a sinking feeling, and you lose all touch with the body around you.
Everything is dark, and you feel a tenseness all about you. Dimly you realize that you are coughing and gagging. And then you find yourself sitting up in bed.
You are wearing a nightgown—flannel by the feel of it—and after you've recovered your breath you lie back. The room is dark, and you blink until you begin to make out shapes: the desk and the dresser and some posters on the wall. Your new hands travel up to your throat and face. They are soft and tender and sensitive. Then your hand falls onto the swell of a breast. It feels odd, to have that shape cupped in your hand, but you give it an appreciative squeeze. A tremble passes through your body, but it is not the familiar feeling of a quickening erection. Your other hand goes down to the spot where you'd expect to find the male member, and with sudden excitement you hike up the nightgown and push your fingers down the front of soft panties to touch and stroke the light bush you find there. You lie back, and a groan escapes your lips.
* * * * *
Your name is Dana Pak, the thought forms in your head. Who are you? A a seventeen-year-old senior in high school. What did you have for supper? Noodles. Your mother fussed at you because you didn't finish them all. But you didn't want the empty carbohydrates, you'd told her. She didn't care ...
You stare at the ceiling and continue to stroke yourself, though not so vibrantly as to seriously excite yourself. Dana is a fine and beautiful girl, and has been a good friend of yours for several years. You've had a strong but not overpowering crush on her for a long time, but have never said anything to her about it—she never gave you any encouragement. Your thoughts travel back to the last time you were over at the Paks—you were studying with Dana for a math test—and you remember that her sister, Sarah, had seemed very happy to see you there when she got back from track practice. Why? But of course—Sarah has a crush on you.
This realization comes as a bit of a shock, as you had never suspected. Was Dana jealous of Sarah's crush? No, the answer comes; Dana feels nothing for you but friendship.
Your cheeks flush, and you shove the front of your nightgown down and drop your clenched hands firmly to your sides. You suddenly feel very dirty. You're not only playing with her private parts, you're snooping through her mind. Grimly, you reflect that at least you are so well in touch with Dana's memories that you should be able to imitate her when morning comes. You only have to query for a thought and it comes to you.
Sleep refuses to enfold you, and for a lack of anything better to do you continue to run lightly through her memories, reviewing the week's events and her plans for the weekend. The hours pass, and morning light creeps in through the window, and you hear the sound of other people stirring in the house. But you stay in bed. Now that you've got Dana's body, you find yourself wondering what you should do. You don't feel anything like Dana's own will stirring inside you, which, strangely, only heightens your sense of guilt. Is it right to take over another person, even if you intend to live their life just as they would? Dana has always been nice to you. Maybe you should reveal yourself to her, some way, and get her permission or help before continuing.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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