THE SWITCHER
It was four days later when I switched into Damon Pena, a 29 year old guy with an incredible build. He was short, but had almost comically large muscles. His arms, pecs, thighs… it was all a collection of vein-rippled meat mountains.
His tight t-shirt and loose basketball shorts made this definition perfectly apparent. I hadn’t yet looked at his hair under the snapback. His thick scruff felt trimmed into shape but I would have to find a mirror to confirm this.
He had been on his way to some place, in the early hours just after sunrise. Maybe heading to the gym. I had apparently slept through the night and only now switched. I wasn’t sure if would get to stay long.
There was something I had wanted to try since my chat with Bobby. I only ever responded to one sensation – a pull. But I had never really paid attention to it.
I maneuvered Damon’s divine body to a coffee shop that was already open and ordered him a cup of tea. Once I was alone at my table I closed my eyes and focused. Was there anything else to sense?
Yes! I could tell the pull was there, but not exerting force – like a spring at rest, getting stretched slowly while I stuck around in a foreign body. I sensed some more and found a new… something. It was no pull, it was a blob of sorts. I could almost stretch my mind into the swirling darkness that transported me to and from my switches, but not breach the barrier.
Right on the border was a lump. With all my focus on it, I understood that it was Damon’s real psyche. The cocoon had a distinct feel that was complemented by what it was like to be in his body. It was hard to describe but his body and mind were like two puzzle pieces. When I left, they would reunite naturally.
An amazing discovery but useless.
Taking sips from my tea, I tried to find anything else along the barrier. There were little somethings flittering about, but I could never pin one down long enough to examine it.
It had been a long time since I had tattooed anyone so I brought Damon’s body to a studio and spent a while arguing with the insufferable artist who wanted to talk me out of my decision. After he was absolutely sure I was sober, he got to work.
The time in the chair gave me an opportunity to keep my focus on the Damon cocoon. Looking at the tiny sparks running along the barrier didn’t clarify anything.
Once I was done I admired Damon’s new art pieces. He had a bold lettered FAGGOT on his neck, a squirting erection on his chest, and arrows pointing at his ass from the small of his back where it said RAPE ME. There was no need to be subtle.
Apparently I still had some time left in this magnificent body.
After long observation I had a breakthrough. The sparks were what caused the high. I could get simple reactions from poking the cocoon in the right way, to get a basic response like from a person at the edge of falling asleep. It was mentally taxing for me but I figured out he was getting euphoric in a dreamless sleep.
I hounded sparks to his prison and they sunk into Damon’s personality. My hope was to increase the confusion.
While doing that, I had the mind to keep walking. After leaving the coffee shop I followed the street and got into a random bus. All the while I kept feeding Damon sparks.
Once I could feel the pull to switch back slowly increase, I got out at the next stop and focused my attention on my surroundings again. The buildings were three or four levels tall. Not the densest part of town but a good commercial spot with quite some traffic. It would do.
I wandered into a side alley and stripped. All his douchbag clothes wandered into a trashcan and I covered them with other trash so he wouldn’t see them in case he had the mind to look there.
By now the body hair removal was almost automatic. I barely had to concentrate on it and all hair flew away from my body as if it was trying to flee my presence.
I had no tools to give him a haircut but that could wait until next time.
In front of a dark window I said goodbye to Damon. Then I lingered.
Right away he trembled and breathed heavily, then sank down on his knees. Within a few seconds I knew it had worked. His reflection in the window was grinning like mad, while his kneeling body swayed as if he was severely drunk. I couldn’t be sure, seeing through his eyes normally, but his visual processing was apparently hampered. He could barely stand up and kept fumbling around, trying to grab something to hold onto.
Damon was euphoric and dazed. If I had left him in a worse position he wouldn’t even be able to think of an escape. It took him ten entire minutes until he registered his situation well enough to panic.
I watched him wobble out of the alley, holding his crotch covered and trying to ask for the way. He might have been able to get away with the nudity, but with his slurred speech nobody wanted to talk to him.
Lovely. I had a way to make my victims immensly high. I watched his adventure for over an hour before my link broke and I was switched back. He had still been fairly out of it and I estimated the effect was indeed close to several bottles of alcohol or multiple blunts.
With all that going on I hadn’t even seen him react to his tattoos. Perhaps it was better for him to find them once he had sobered up and understood the consequences.
A day later I used the trick from last time I had lingered and followed the pull before it was strong enough to drag me on its own. That way I landed in Damon’s head again. Now that I was aware of it, I could sense the man’s spirit slide out of its rightful place and get pressed into the barrier where a cocoon formed.
I shoved a moderate amount of sparks his way while surveying the area. I was in a gym. Not really a surprise. They way Damon looked, he probably lived there.
At first I thought it was funny that he wore a turtleneck. Then I remembered the tattoos. Gym had been important enough to go there in spite of what had happened yesterday. Diligent.
In that moment Damon’s unbelievable body was on a bench with dumbbells lying on either side. They looked impossibly huge. I didn’t even try to lift them. I would only have given him a shoulder injury. Anything beyond moderate exercise and my form of execution was not going to match up to what his body was used to.
Well, I simply got up and headed for the lockers. I estimated that he had gotten a normal night’s dose of sparks by now, which would otherwise have accumulated over the course of hours.
I found his locker and dropped off his gym clothes. Totally naked, I moved the heap of pure muscle into the showers. I hadn’t really given him a choice when it came to style but while I looked into the mirror I permanently removed his facial hair.
Last time I hadn’t been able to give him a mohawk. Since I was already using him as a lab rat, I might as well keep experimenting. I grabbed a round bowl of soap and emptied it. The bowl was about three inches in diameter.
I put it upside down on his head and made sure it was exactly in the center on top. Holding the bowl in place I worked around it to clear his head of any hair permanently. This left Damon with a nicely perverse looking style, a small circle of hair right on top of him and absolutely nowhere else.
I was very much getting hard. While I worked my hands over his body to enjoy the smooth, lean muscles, I wandered into a shower cabin. They had no doors or curtains but had walls on either side to keep them separate.
The washing was more of a side activity to edging. While I jerked his thick dick, I observed the cocoon. There was a different species of sparks now – vibrant, more erratic.
Hounding as many of them into Damon’s dormant mind as possible I kept jerking it. I could estimate he was easily getting ten times the regular dose.
Someone walked by but I had my face to the wall and ignored them. It seemed they stopped behind me and I got the feeling of being watched.
I looked behind me, not slowing down the edging, to see a man in this sixties. He had a semi hard-on and flinched as our eyes met.
Damon’s mouth grinned at him as I commanded it. “Hey there,” I said in Damon’s surprisingly rough voice. “I could use some help.”
“Y-yes,” the man said. “Holy fuck, yes. I’ll gladly suck you off.”
“Oh no,” I said and genuinely chuckled a bit. I pointed at the RAPE ME tattoo the man could clearly see. “This isn’t there for fun. It’s an order.”
“Fuck yes!”
I spread my cheeks and waited for the old man to jerk himself fully hard. In the meantime I kept masturbating with one hand and fingered my hole open with the other.
When a dick was pushed in, I could feel the sparks increase as the sexual intensity did. My estimation was rough but Damon had consumed about a fiftyfold dose now.
I kept it up until I figured it had to be around hundred time’s normal.
Someone else was walking up behind us. Two older men watched the spectacle. Well, I was going to see if they got a show or not once Damon was back for real.
The edging came to an end as I pushed myself further. I let Damon’s voice moan, hearing the echo from the shower walls, as I shot his load.
Then I retreated to lingering.
Damon came back with a jolt. He looked behind himself with huge eyes and his breath became much quicker and flatter.
Three seconds after waking up, he grabbed his dick and jerked off. Since he had just cummed it was unlikely he would finish the task in quite some time.
The old man came with a deep sigh and pulled out.
Damon looked behind himself again and stared up at one of the observers. “P-please…”
Eagerly the second man stepped forward and took the previous fucker’s place. For seniors they all came quite quickly, leaving Damon unsatisfied. Even with three loads in his ass he still hadn’t managed to get another orgasm. When he was still in the same position and jerking off half an hour later, I tuned out but didn’t yet switch back. I just kind of stopped paying attention. Once he got up, he kept jerking off even as he dressed himself.
Damon went home, having great difficulty to keep his hands away from his crotch. When he was back at his place he pulled his dick out and jerked off again. This time he managed to cum. It still wasn’t enough.
After a total of four hours, the massive man finally got some rest, only sporting a semi hard-on now. If this was the maximum dose, I could be a bit more subtle next time.
My trusty pull transported me into Jack Singleton, who was still in Haiti.
It had been something like a week, I wasn’t really counting. He wore shabby, mud crusted pants and nothing beside. The man had acquired a tan, although he was mostly still sunburned, and sat on dry earth next to a road. There was a plastic-bag construct hanging from a set of pipes. His home, probably.
So he had never made it back. It seemed obvious that he would have tried it at the embassy, but without papers he was entirely at the mercy of a corrupt bureaucracy.
I felt along his head and found out he had gotten rid of the mohawk. That patch was now buzzed off and just as long as the rest of his barely regrown hair.
Wow, he had prioritized destroying my work? Punishment time.
Naturally, I had to restore the mohawk by use of force push hair removal. Without seeing what I was doing it had to be sloppy but Jack didn’t deserve better. His hair would grow out as a mowhawk and nothing else.
I got up from the spot at the road and walked a little while. A tiny shabby car came along, driving slowly on the rocky dirt road. I knocked out the driver, waited until the car had stopped, and stole the vehicle, leaving the original driver in the dust.
Luckily the next settlement was close so I didn’t have to waste too much time on Jack. I left the car behind and looked for any place that could sell stuff.
Once I entered the hardware store I stunned the clerk. No one else was there. I grabbed some rope and ran.
Jogging in the afternoon heat, I got away from the settlement until it was no longer visible. First I lost Jack’s shorts, leaving him as nude as I wanted him.
The stolen item came into play. I crouched down and tied my old extra-un-openable knot around his ankles, leaving about three inches between them. I wrapped my rope around his package and then only the sack, eventually fixing his balls to the ankle ropes in such a way that he could basically take no steps whatsoever without tugging cruelly.
His hands came last, with both loops prepared so I could pull them closed with my mouth. His wrists were now on the side of his ankles. That should do it.
I didn’t expect to see him ever again. That ungrateful bastard. I had gotten him a vacation and he put getting rid of the mohawk before even acquiring a shirt or anything. He had only himself to blame.
Now the question was: reward or punish?
Lyle was in his room and right away I noticed a few changes. He was shirtless. Beside the nipple rings, he now also had a belly button bar. Good start.
I got up to find the bathroom and take a proper look. With satisfaction I felt that he was wearing both the cock ring and the plug. From the way his semi hard on rubbed against the fabric of his super-short jeans, I knew he was free balling before I even saw him naked.
There were more piercings. Three rings on the left brow, five bars and studs in the right ear. One through his tongue, one through his lower lip and one on his taint. Good choice. I judged they were enough.
At first I didn’t see a tattoo and was mildly disappointed. Turns out it was on his back, across the shoulders. It looked fresh enough to be from today. Just his luck. The banner said PUNK 4 LYFE and suited its purpose well enough. Another checkmark.
His hair was bright green. Check. I looked in his wardrobe and he had added nothing. Check. I found the cuffs right on his desk. Check.
Now there was only one thing left to make sure of. I looked into his phone. Indeed, there was his face, getting a mouth full of dick – eyes red, lips swollen. To my satisfaction I also found a picture of his backside with a dick all the way up his ass. I couldn’t really be sure they were different dicks, but I let that one slide.
First I went back into the bathroom and made his mohawk permanent. Just a little time saver for the boy, so he could focus on improving his cock sucking skills.
Then I sat down at his computer and accessed my money filled account. I ordered every piece of gear and every sex toy I found remotely interesting and had it delivered to his doorstep.
Like last time I left a note. It read, “Congratulations Lyle. You are on the trajectory to become a proper cock whore. There is much you still need to learn, but I’m certain you will become an excellent punk bitch one day. Do whatever the fuck you want with your life. The promised reward will arrive in three to five workdays. Goodbye. –Your Spiritual Liberator.”
Yes, a new power. Damon was a great test run. Jack got his reward and so did Lyle, although the boy might have hoped for something other than chains and dildos.