CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue.
All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. All the stories features only adult characters. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
Haunted Possessions: Zeke
Zeke had always been "troubled," not the typical problem student, but he wasn't very easy to handle.
He loved excesses, and that was obvious, so was his constant state in the afterlife, lethargic and cheerful, remaining on what seemed like an eternal journey. He didn't complain, but... It was difficult to get anyone to take him seriously, or to respect his boundaries...
He had become well-known among the ghosts for his "irresponsible" possessions, leaving his hosts in rather compromising situations and almost with their reputations in tatters. A clear example was the substitute chemistry teacher. His story was known to both mortals and ghosts. He was teaching a class like any other, almost the last before the regular teacher returned from maternity leave. He was serious but undoubtedly attractive, with a good pair of muscles. He was about to explain the assignment when he fell silent, began to laugh, and watched his body with fascination until he ended up slamming his manhood against the table. Yes... Goodbye to his teaching career.
And it wasn't because Zeke was bad or even mischievous, no. He was just so far gone that he didn't measure the consequences of his actions, as if everything were a game to him. The worst part? It wasn't the first time he'd messed with a teacher and done this.
A few years ago, a new coach started teaching at the school. He was quite young, with good muscles, a face to die for, and the target of more than one ghost. Julian and Brady were having a heated argument over who had the best right to take over Coach Stevens's body.
Too bad for them, Zeke had already gone ahead. He sneaked into the gym, where at least there was no one else but that man, his elegant, strong, imposing demeanor; those enormous muscles wrapped like candy in that tight compression shirt. He was arranging a couple of pieces of clothing, like balls and mats, unaware that he was being watched.
A cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket to answer it.
— Hello? Yes, dear. I almost finished packing everything up to go home. Don't worry, I'll pick up what you ordered for dinner – Zeke approached slowly, then pushed himself up to his nose. He entered forcefully, causing spasms and grunts from the man who was trying to resist whatever was invading his body. The "confrontation" lasted a while until the man slowed down, the phone still to his ear, his wife worried about the noises.
"He" opened his eyes with a crooked smile, listening to the woman's screams on the other end.
— Yes, yes, yes! I'll call you later, byeee!
He said, tossing the phone aside, not even bothering to hang up. His strong hands shot to his pecs as he kneaded them with a soft chuckle, the stench of sweat swirling in the air.
— Shit, yeah... You really stink – he said with a chuckle. He didn't even have to go near his armpit; the shirt itself was soaked with sweat, like a warm scent wafting straight into his nose.
He felt his pants tighten.
Zeke was always very sensitive to sensations, as if his state quadrupled his perception. This also influenced the way he ended up reacting and making his decisions, hasty and almost irrational.
He spent a long time massaging his pectorals, only with a broad smile, tilting his head back, enjoying his touch, those strong fingers burying themselves in his flesh, the soft yet solid touch enough to make him gasp. He loved the way his new voice rumbled in the middle of his throat, that thick Adam's apple that underscored his masculinity... And shit, that jaw! Sharp enough to cut marble, he felt so masculine, so powerful.
In life, Zeke wasn't bad-looking at all, but he'd never been like this. So full of muscle, with that penetrating musk, the fabric clinging perfectly to his body.
He still felt the tension in his pants, that thick piece of flesh, throbbing, yet he ignored it. There was something arousing about just feeling it rub against the fabric, over and over again, his heavy, slow breathing, those pecs rising and falling.
He had to sit down for a moment to try to control what he felt. One of the "disadvantages" of possession was that if the ghost went through a series of very powerful emotions, he would lose control of his body. So he tried to resist, painfully prolonging this euphoria.
He felt so heavy, so big. He took out his new phone to take a couple of good photos, even noting the missed calls from the coach's wife; it wasn't his problem.
He really loved seeing how the shirt fit, the thick muscles, the broad chest... And that stench, damn. So perfect... He got rid of his shoes to let his new feet breathe through the smelly socks, and he giggled again.
— Wow, coach... Who knew you were so sweaty, so smelly – he inhaled again – so delicious...
He wiggled his toes, still laughing, fascinated by the length. He felt like he was enormous in every way, and that was fascinating him more and more.
Even though he was hungry, he felt his abs growl, causing him to let out a slight groan as he brought his hands to the solid structure.
— Gosh! It's like a wall… – he whispered, smiling, caressing and counting each of those bumps – But shit, why don't you eat something?
He gave a long moan, constantly hitting his new skin as if trying to create a cacophony between the bumps and his own moans. That's when he noticed a backpack. He got up to open it. There were other clothes, but he saw a large glass. He opened it and sniffed a little; it smelled like some kind of milkshake, although when he took a sip, he didn't like it at all.
— Ugh – he made a disgusted face, even though he was so hungry...
He let out a sigh before downing the entire container, drinking eagerly, letting it all fall straight into his stomach. Every now and then, he glanced at his reflection with a small smile.
Flexing and stretching his arms, he licked his lips, still feeling the protein on them, but he chose to ignore it and just focus on the feeling of satisfaction and admiration before his arms, looking curious.
— Let's see...
He raised his arm to inhale, his nose captivated by that stinky, intoxicating stench... His nasal tip colliding directly with those hairy armpits, he spent a long time smelling, slowly and deliberately, every pore that gave off that stinky odor...
His tongue moved up and down, trying to catch even the slightest trace of sweat, as if he wanted to clean it all off.
He continued with those random push-ups, and then, deciding to stay in only his underwear, a tight outfit that left nothing to the imagination, Zeke licked his lips, not even knowing where to begin. It was like having a buffet in front of him, just for him.
— Oh yeah, I'm way too handsome to be wasting my time being a PE teacher, don't you think? – He boasted, puffing out his chest. He loved caressing it, how sensitive it was – I should be keeping these bad guys busy with something else – He flexed again, weighing his pecs as if they were simple baking dough.
He tugged at the ridges on his pecs, letting out deep moans. His legs even had to be crossed to keep from letting out an even louder howl. Although he couldn't stop himself from sticking out his tongue and starting to pant like a dog, with a silly expression on his face. Zeke was undoubtedly one of the ghosts who got carried away the most in that regard; he loved getting under someone else's skin so much.
Sometimes he justified himself by saying it was "enriching," that it allowed him to explore so many perspectives (yeah, sure…). He was uninhibited, and dirty-minded, even before he finished there. So there was no need to say why he loved possessing so much.
— If I'd had these arms, believe me, I would have gone crazy over them – Another chuckle, a raised eyebrow, and that intense twitch of his pecs – But now I have them, right?
That mischievous, ecstatic smile appeared.
Zeke spent at least thirty minutes in the gym, stroking himself over and over again. The coach's skin was already so red from his insistence, though that didn't stop him; he remained euphoric, his nervous eyes flitting around the exquisite delicacy inside. He continued to be curious, rummaging through his backpack again, finding two outfits: One looked more formal, probably what he was going to wear to return home, but the other was a sleeveless black compression shirt, tight pants, and a sweatband. He raised his eyebrow, somewhat confused. He also had a pair of oversized shoes that smelled pretty bad, but that only encouraged him more.
First, he placed the shoes directly against his nose, sniffing, fascinated. It stank so rich, so rancid... All for him.
He was about to continue when an idea popped into his mind—at that moment, Zeke was finally thinking. He reached for the glass to take it, starting to pour it into his shoe, and then began to drink it.
The pink liquid escaped from the corners of his mouth.
He felt ridiculous for that action, however, he just let out a small chuckle, making his pecs bounce, and continued drinking the liquid. He could taste the staleness of sweat on his taste buds, combined with the sweetness of the shake. He felt the liquid dripping onto his pecs, which made him laugh a little more and lick his lips. He felt so silly, so smelly and dirty.
He sniffed his armpits again, a smile on his lips. He decided to start walking to the shower, his sweaty, damp feet pounding against the tiles, leaving a trail like footprints.
He stepped into the shower, smiled as he felt the drops hit his skin, those sore muscles (perhaps from routine, stress, or the simple exertion of exercise), rubbed the soap against his enormous pecs, enjoying the lather that formed and how it left them "adorned."
— Seriously... Why do you waste this body just being a physical education teacher? – he flexed his biceps self-centeredly – When you can have so many possibilities...
He also traced the path of his abs, taking advantage of the fact that the water followed that same path, running over his skin. He continued soaping himself, on the one hand saddened by the idea of losing that musk that was hypnotizing him, but on the other hand, enjoying every second of feeling his new muscles between his calloused fingers; each caress was driving him crazy.
He hadn't paid enough attention to his new obelisk, which had only been waving like a flagpole, demanding his attention. He spread his new hands around the shaft, only able to cover it like that. He really had a good tool!
The shower continued for a while, with deep moans echoing all the way to the gym, the steam swirling until he emerged with a towel wrapped around him and drops of water running all over him.
He stopped in front of the mirror to flex, still smiling smugly.
— Okay, man. Let's see what you had in your suitcase.
He took out the same outfit he'd noticed before, the one he probably wore to the gym or who knows what. He put on the tight pants, feeling them cling to his thighs and calves like a glove, then he put on the compression shirt, feeling the fabric cling to his pecs, even making him gasp slightly as it pressed against his areolas. Finally, he put on the sports band.
He noticed his reflection in the mirror and raised an eyebrow. He felt so ridiculous; he looked like some kind of retro TV coach. But far from being bothered, Zeke gave a goofy grin, nodding and flexing his arms. He ran his finger across his shapely biceps.
But a phone notification pulled him out of his reverie. He lifted the screen to read: "Love."
He thought it was probably the coach's wife, meh. What does it matter?
— Okay?"
— Hey! Where are you? I'm worried. The guys and I are waiting for you for dinner. You were supposed to get home an hour ago. Is everything okay?
Zeke was silent for a moment. What could he possibly say to a woman worried about her husband?
— BROOOOUUUP – a thunderous burp escaped his lips. He let out a mocking chuckle as he patted his stomach – That smoothie was good, huh? I'll be there in a bit, sorry. I got too caught up in stroking these huge muscles!
The silence on the other end was almost spectral. Until shouts began to be heard, Zeke just averted his gaze slightly, shaking his head.
— Yeah, yeah. I'm on my way. Bye, bye.
The coach's wife continued screaming like crazy until she hung up. Zeke shook his head slightly, looking at himself in the mirror one last time.
— Okay, big guy. I think you have things to do.
He licked his lips and brought his hands to his pecs to give them one last squeeze. Zeke let out a sigh, almost a kind of annoyed groan.
— Ugh... I'm too full to come out by the mouth.
He pulled his pants down slightly. The coach's expression turned strange, before he let out a groan, a thunderous gas erupted from between his buttocks, and a greenish smoke billowed out. The coach collapsed on the floor as Zeke materialized, cracking his neck and stretching his shoulders
— Well, good luck, buddy! – he said with a chuckle before slapping that fluffy butt. The guy walked forward until he vanished into one of the walls, leaving the coach in a heap, his pants down, a "heavy" shake in his stomach, and at least five calls and twenty texts from his wife.
----
Hello everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is the first part of a series of special stories about each ghost. There will be eight stories in total. Two will be publicly accessible, and the rest will be on my subscription channel on Patreon: Swap Acess Pass. They're separate stories from the original plot, but they'll still be packed with interesting details if you'd like to read them. You'll definitely love them.
Also, in that subsciption channel you'll find over 30 special and exclusive stories, everything that can't lives in Tumblr, is there.
I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.
All the stories features only adult characters. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
Haunted: Intangible
Previous part: Haunted - It's Another Day Of Sun
Benji didn't know how much time had passed; the last thing he remembered was really vague: him walking, the hallway, someone's hurried footsteps, something bumping into him, the Rex figurine shattering on the floor, and then, nothing.
He opened his eyes slowly, feeling like he'd slept for almost a month. His throat was dry, his vision blurred, and his head ached. He was in the same hallway, only... Shit. Was it already morning? He could see the windows flooded with light, but the worst part wasn't that. It was when the bell rang. He felt the floor vibrate, as if several people were getting up, the creaking of chairs and tables being moved aside, and the doors swinging wide open, letting students out of different classrooms. Benji's stomach sank. That would literally be social suicide; his reputation would be ruined. Who would fall asleep in the middle of the hallway? He got up as best he could, trying in vain not to fall. People started moving around him, and the mortal instinctively raised his hands to protect himself, only to notice how the others walked past him as if they hadn't noticed him at all.
He could have sworn someone walked right through him. His heart pounded as if it were about to explode, and a cold sweat trickled down his spine as people circled around him. He got to his feet as best he could, trying to get someone's attention.
— Hello?! Can you hear me?! – He tried to stand in front of a girl from the school band, but she just spun around as if someone had spoken to her, but he couldn't see anyone. He practically ran away – HELLO?!
He tried a couple more times with other students, getting the same result. He was getting paranoid. What kind of nightmare was this? Maybe he just... He just needed to wake up, didn't he? It was nothing more than that, just a silly nightmare. Soon he'd be back in his room. His birthday would have been just a few hours ago, and everything would be alright. He tried pinching himself, without any success. He tried until his skin was almost purple from the pressure.
— What the hell is this? – he murmured, his eyes watering. He ran his hands through his hair, sitting back down on the floor, trying to calm himself. The next class started at the same time, so the students dispersed, leaving him alone in the hallway again with a few other students trying to get to the bathroom.
— I don't know, he's been acting strange for the past few days. Something doesn't feel right, you know? Like... he's not himself – he heard in the distance. He thought the voice would be accompanied by footsteps, but it was just the sound of a voice.
— Maybe it's just our imagination, it's... You know – Someone else was coming with that person, their tone of voice was resigned, and again, there was no sound of shoes hitting the floor.
The curly-brown-haired guy looked up, tearfully, and saw two familiar figures walk past him unnoticed. He wanted to speak again, but it was as if his voice caught in his throat. Then one of them turned to look at him, his eyes widening at the sight.
— Benji? – Tobias asked – But how is this possible if we… – Before he could answer, Ben jumped up and hugged them both, sobbing and trembling as if he'd been out in the cold all night. In fact, he felt just as frozen, devoid of any warmth.
— I don't know what's happening. No one can see me or hear me. It's like I don't exist, I don't know what's happening – His voice was rapid, stumbling over his own words, the sobs weren't helping matters.
— Calm down, breathe. Everything's okay – Rex pulled him away to take hold of his shoulders, but Ben's expression was pure terror and dismay, the same as... Oh shit.
— B-but-
Rex attempted a risky move, trying to lunge forward to enter Ben's mouth and possess him, but instead, he only ended up colliding with him, as if they were both physical beings on the same plane. Tobias's jaw nearly dropped to the floor in shock.
— What's wrong with you?! – Ben clutched his face in pain, and the oldest ghost took note of it.
— No... This can't be happening, because... W-we saw you just five minutes ago, in the cafeteria, you were there – Tobias stammered. There was only one explanation: if Benji couldn't be possessed and was as tangible as the two of them, completely ignored by everyone else, he was a ghost.
Rex remained lost in thought, saying nothing, simply starting to backtrack the way they had come.
— Where are you going?! – They both followed him. The punk continued moving with a determined stride, reaching the cafeteria's threshold, but not opening the door so that "the wind" wouldn't open it on its own. Just peeking through the glass panel in the door, Ben peeked his head out, and his heart almost stopped (again, it seemed) at the scene before him: Himself, sitting at one of the tables, eating with a gentle smile, chewing slowly as if he wanted to savor every last flavor. He, he was there, sitting in the cafeteria.
— It can't be, but...
— Ben's soul and body are different, aren't they? – Rex continued to eye his friend's doppelganger suspiciously. He received only silence from the other two – Didn't you say that, Tobias? – he said in a drier, colder tone that made his boyfriend react immediately; he needed to focus.
— Yes, that's right. But in any case, why didn't the same thing happen when you possessed him?
— It was a different situation. Ben let me in. I'm afraid someone here forced their way in. What's the last thing you remember?
— I... I was coming back from the party, I felt someone following me, and suddenly, something jumped. I can't remember anything after that – The two ghosts exchanged puzzled and worried glances – What?...
— Ben... Your party was 20 days ago.
— Who do you think did it? – Rex murmured. Ben was at the edge of the property; this was the ultimate test to determine the state of his soul. His two friends just watched from behind.
— I don't know. I know that those of us who were at the party couldn't have done it, at least that's what I want to believe. I doubt it was Zeke; he wouldn't have that much peace in his body. He would have already caused a lot of damage. And Julian? He wouldn't be capable of it.
— And Marco?
— We could leave that possibility open, but there are still loose ends with Brady, Daniel, and Elliot.
— Or Mr. Ashford, and all the other ghosts from the institute.
— I highly doubt anyone in that group would dare to do that; they don’t usually possess – Rex said, narrowing his eyes and clenching his fists.
— And yet, it could happen. You know how special Ben is. Maybe… maybe someone else has already noticed.
The mortal fearfully stared at the property line, took a step forward, closing his eyes. The energy around his foot began to concentrate, like a lightning storm unleashed directly onto the sidewalk. He felt as if he were crossing an invisible barrier or something. With all his might, he tried to push his foot in (or rather, pull it out) to get out of that place and finally reach the sidewalk, but it was like trying to walk on water. He moved further forward, with all his strength. The energy crackled again, menacing, and threw him backward.
Ben propelled himself several meters, crashing into the grass and almost feeling like he'd been sucked out of air. Rex and Tobias ran to his aid, though the frightened looks on their faces weren't just because of the fact that, officially, Benjamin was a ghost.
— Are you okay? – Rex tried to approach his shoulder, but Ben just backed away, tears streaming down his face.
— DO YOU THINK I'M OKAY?! WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE?! – The pressure shot out like a wave in the middle of an ocean storm. Ben's eyes were filled with tears and resentment.
— We'll find a way to help you, we'll see how to fix this, you just have to trust
— You?! The same ones who got me into this?! – He got up as best he could. Rex tried to reach him, only to be met with a swatting motion – Don't you dare touch me, Navarro!
— Ben! What the hell is wrong with you?!
— If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened. I'd have my normal life. I wouldn't know about you or any of this. I'd be alive, unlike you.
The silence was cruel and heavy. The guy's chest rose and fell with the stress of the moment. The three of them exchanged serious glances. Ben turned around and went back inside.
— That son of a-
— No – Tobias said, grabbing his shoulder and stopping him – Understand him. Remember the first time you woke up like this? The helplessness, the anger, he says things impulsively, he doesn’t understand anything that’s happening, just give him time.
— What if the others find out?
— Let’s hope not. We have to keep an eye on him, away from everyone. Especially Julian. We don’t know how he’ll react when he finds out his boyfriend hasn’t been himself for almost a month.
Ben stormed through the hallways like someone unleashing a storm in a glass jar. The lockers creaked silently beneath his feet, the air felt colder, and it was lucky no one was there to witness such a thing. He continued on until he reached the gym, the same place where he had first seen Julian and Marco up to their antics, where he had first seen a ghost. His jaw clenched; he was truly going to explode at any moment.
He moved through the place, heavy with that musky, salty smell. It wasn't very noisy, except for the hum of a machine – a stacking machine being used by Marlon, a senior jock who had repeated a year after being suspended for six months for getting involved in a bullying incident with a nerd. He was already muscular, but all that time out had made him focus even more on the gym, lifting weights nonstop until he had muscle on his muscles. He also had a biker vibe, perfect for making girls "swoon", in his own words. He was the only one there.
Ben approached, once again, trying unsuccessfully to get the guy to see him, or at least hear or feel him, but all he managed to do was give him goosebumps when he touched his shoulder.
— Damn, dude! I almost had a cramp – he said, putting his hand to the area, much to Benji's dismay. What was he supposed to do in that state? He was screwed. Completely screwed. He thought about leaving; the stench was already too much. Why didn't that guy at least put on deodorant? His feet were already moving when a strange curiosity struck him. If he was a ghost, that meant... No, maybe not. What if possession required months or years of practice? Like a... seniority or something? It would be foolish to think that someone with a few... were they hours? Days? Could manage it.
— No, it's a waste of time – he thought to himself, shaking his head. Maybe he should try to find answers elsewhere, like going to the old wing. After all, he was a ghost too, and...
What Ben hadn't counted on was that at that precise moment, the unsuspecting athlete would stand next to him and take a deep breath, exhausted from the effort. Automatically, Benji's "tangible" body transformed into a cloud of indigo smoke that was quickly sucked in by Marlon. The guy felt the energy of the novice ghost fill him from within. His eyes rolled back in his head as his face tensed, his hands stiffened as he felt himself losing control of his body. It was like a flash; his legs trembled electrically before he collapsed to the floor. His chest rose and fell, bewildered, his fingernails digging into the ground.
— Uhhfhfh – incomprehensible sounds escaped his mouth as he convulsed. He couldn't hold it in any longer. He let out a deep, choked gasp until he collapsed.
After a while, he opened his eyes again, an indigo glow in them. He jumped up with the ease and agility of a gazelle, looked around, frightened. He tried to take a step forward but ended up slamming back to the ground because of the difference in his weight. He was agile and, at the same time, as heavy as marble. When he stood up again, he looked at his hands, confused. They were enormous, rough, calloused from exercise, his fingers thick as sausages.
— What the hell?! – a high-pitched voice escaped his lips. His gaze wandered around until it settled on a mirror. He practically ran over to get a better look at himself in the frame. He was wearing grayish-white sweatpants, a cap, and a beige tank top, but the most important and obvious difference was: he was inside Marlon. His enormous biceps responded to him; he could even bounce his new pecs and... move them? Shit, he couldn't even do that on his own body! And his thighs were so... thick, oh shit. Benji wasn't used to any of the sensations that were overwhelming him right now: not the smell, the pain of the workout, the sheer size of his new muscles, shit, not even the clothes he was wearing. Everything was new to him and yet so familiar. Like putting on a custom-made glove.
— Damn, damn – he said, bringing his hand to his forehead, then tracing his cheekbones, his chin, his skin free of pimples and acne marks; he even had a piercing. He was so... manly now.
Part of him had always envied athletes like Marlon, strong, big, and muscular, always at the top of the popularity pyramid, adored (or feared) by everyone, handsome, getting what they wanted; besides, of course, they also did something else to him when the blood rushed to his legs. He never thought he would be (literally) one of them, but instead, there he was. Piloting that guy's body like a mecha, his huge arms and smelly armpits moving if he wanted them to, the idiotic expressions on his face could last for hours if he wanted, tongue out and snout up like a pig. This was fantastic!
— This is amazing! Fucking awesome! – He chuckled, his voice still not quite matching his new prize. He cleared his throat – Woah… – he murmured again, gazing at the thick outline that now belonged to him.
He didn't hesitate for a second before taking off his shirt, letting it fall with a soft, wet "plaff". His hands went to his thick pecs to squeeze them, and he let out a ragged gasp, smiling with pure ecstasy.
— Holy mother... Mghhh – he breathed again, sticking out his tongue and savoring the musky air around him. He felt so good, so powerful and free at the same time. He was no longer the same skinny guy he'd been just minutes before; now he was strong, powerful, everything about him was enormous. His pecs, biceps, Adam's apple, thighs, feet, everything. Even his tool and his new, fat buttocks, even his new, thick lips. All his.
He stuck his tongue out again, delighted by the reflection, and raised his arm to reveal his smelly armpit. He didn't have much hair, but what little he had was enough. He brushed it aside with his fingers, making little figures in the process, and smiled between victorious gasps. He'd never understood why ghosts were so obsessed with possession, almost fixated on it. But now he understood everything! To have a different physique, those thick muscles or pecs he could only imagine in dreams, even to be able to move like him, to be him. Fantastic!
— Hey – he growled at the mirror with an arrogant smile, adjusting his cap backward, puffing out his pecs – My name is Marlon, how are you? – He clicked his tongue, his torso springing again, his deep laugh echoing loud and imposing. He adored every second of his new discovery. He felt so wet and... sticky. He'd never been so drawn to someone's body odor, but right now, he seemed addicted, inhaling the acrid air around him. He needed that salty, strong smell so badly.
— Mmm, yeah. Shit, yeah – even his voice and demeanor were gradually changing, as if he weren't entirely Ben anymore. He was more of an amorphous mix of Ben's psyche and the remnants of Marlon that were now subduing him. While he'd had overwhelming success in possessing the athlete, he also faced something equally dangerous: control.
An inexperienced ghost could be overwhelmed by the new sensations, personality, and psyche he was exposed to upon entering a new body, like merging into a new environment. If it was too much for him, his psyche would be subdued, with no sure way back.
— Shit, this is wrong – Tobias muttered, watching the scene.
— I know. I wanted to use that guy, his motorcycle is a beast – Rex said with a grimace, causing the other to nudge him with his elbow.
— Focus!
— Ouch, I know, love. What a spoilsport you are – he rubbed his side, shaking his head.
— Keep any ghosts that want to come near here away. I'll take care of it.
His boyfriend nodded, ready to keep watch from the opposite side; ghosts loved to pass through walls to get into places.
— And Rex.
— Yeah?
— Don't let Julian find out about this for anything in the world.
----
Hello everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.
I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
