Switcher

THE SWITCHER

Over the next few days I had no more switches. Instead there was a pulling in my head like the time before I started switching. Was I losing the ability? I sure didn't hope so.

With my sleep cycle still fucked up, I took a nap at noon. That's when I switched. This time it felt weird. The rush through darkness had been less smooth and unusually disorienting.

I was in a classroom again. The pulling in my head was still there.

First I tried to figure out whose body I possessed now and received a shock. It was Ron Jordan from last time. I reached up to feel the mohawk. He had kept it. His only other option had been to shave his head completely and it seemed he was okay enough with my work.

The pulling was still there. Strange. Was I about to switch back to my body? Was my ability weakening?

I decided to follow the pull and was sucked out of Ron's mind. Where I ended up was a serious but pleasant surprise. This body belonged to Luis Clark, the office drone I had so spectacularly tortured.

I was traveling backwards through my previous victims.

Luis was at home, obviously having been fired. I found his computer and began to research. I wasn't going to do anything to Luis, because there were more important things to set up.

It took me longer than anticipated and the pull grew unbearable. I couldn't stay in one previous victim for as long as I wanted. Bummer. But I was all set anyway.

This was followed by Arden Dunn – the one I had left tied to a pole, with said pole up his ass. Of course his head was still shaved, leaving me with no mohawk option. He had a new phone and new keys, which I both grabbed. I didn't want to waste too much time on him so I rushed down the streets to the next best busy area.

In a convenient side alley, I dropped all clothes and his items into a trash can and walked out into the open, jerking off. It was perhaps less spectacular during the day time without oil, but the stares were still highly enchanting. I loved the attention.

I entered a shopping mall. Of course, security saw me and came toward my position, but my knock out ability still worked, so I made it past them and farther in, to a raised point where everyone could see me.

Already, I was close to cumming, but something was missing. I spit on my left hand and shoved it into my hole. The lube was not enough and it took a lot of pain and pushing to get my fingers in as far as they were long.

I slowed my jerking to allow for the spit to be fully absorbed, leaving dry fingers on dry ass walls. He would surely pull them out right away and experience a delicious burn that I hoped would have him cry out.

Then I cummed, aiming up to shoot along his abs.

I followed the pull.

Eugene Park had changed schools. Made sense, really. Anyone would have. I was going to fuck it up for him a second time.

As soon as break started, I searched for the cafeteria. It was already afternoon, so lunch had to be long over. I wasn't going to stay there, only look for something useful.

There were no fruits or vegetables. It was a cheap public school. But there was a vending machine.

With a small bottle of Sprite, I walked the hallway, trying to understand the places layout. Whenever I encountered someone in the corridors I simply knocked them out. Then I incidentally read the fire safety posters, which told me what I needed to know. My choice was obvious.

Eugene made his way to a bathroom, got rid of all clothing and used a lot of soap – to fuck himself. It took a long time to get the bottle in. He was a small boy, his hole was tight, the bottle was pretty thick at the bottom and soap was a bad lube, drying quickly. But he had gotten rid of the mohawk so he deserved the punishment.

It was amazingly intense, feeling Eugene's guts getting split by my evil deed. It hurt like hell but I knew I wouldn't be the one who had to bare it. I could switch away anytime. Only the plastic bottle cap was still outside the hole.

With weird steps I made my way out. The ass pain spread into my thighs, and the boy's legs were unable to hold themselves steady.

I opened a door to the back yard and wandered onto the empty football field. I kind of hoped no one was looking out the window right now so it could be a surprise for everybody.

Just like last time, I took a selfie. I was overjoyed to see that the asian teen hadn't deleted any contacts, so not only would everyone from this school get to see it but everyone from the old one as well. And whoever else he had ever emailed.

Facing the school, I used force push to hit something visible through the open door – the fire drill. Then I force pushed the door shut to avoid ruining the surprise.

It took a minute but eventually a well-coordinated mass of hundreds of students stormed onto their designated fire safety location – the football field. I was rock hard.

Under the curious, horrified or amused stares of an army of teens I brought Eugene's dick to orgasm. Once I had sprayed his abs and thighs, I unscrewed the bottle cap.

As lemonade began to flow, I gave the bottle a good yank to create unbearable burn. Then I switched away to let the boy enjoy the moment sticky liquid hit his legs and turned the ground under his feet to mud.

Kevin Bell was home alone and locked into his room. There wasn't much to be done here and I didn't know how long I had left for the whole experience. I switched.

My most important target was Quince Jarret – the strongly built rich guy. He was in his mansion again, but all the windows were barred now. Apparently he had concluded someone had kidnapped him last time.

I roamed through his documents to find all available bank data. After a long and boring search I had everything I needed and began to transfer everything I could find onto the account I had made Luis prepare. It turned into a quarter million. I could buy as many toys and gifts for my victims as I wanted now.

As far as possible I wiped my traces and left Quincy the way I had found him. There was someone more fun to deal with.

Muscular, short-statured, gorgeous, eighteen. That was Bobby Thomas.

As I found him he was in the middle of playing a little bit of football with his two brothers in the back yard.

I didn't want to deal with the other two, so I stunned them and went inside. When I passed the hallway mirror, I saw he had kept the mohawk. Not only was it still there, the hair was as long as before. But he had definitely gotten a cut, seeing as the lines were all clean and not wobbly like my work.

He looked incredibly stupid and douchbaggy. And apparently he liked it that way. Interesting. Very interesting. Then I saw the stud in his right ear and knew I had made someone's life more stimulating instead of ruining it.

I didn't know how he had gotten away from the mess I had left him in, but I decided to help him out, taking it one step further.

First order of business, I got rid of his shirt. I took his stuff with me, but committed his address and phone number to memory because he was quite interesting, as I've mentioned several times now.

I rode the bus into the city shirtless and arrived in front of a bank. With an account bursting with a quarter million I had no problems getting everything I wanted for my boy.

With enough money withdrawn to get me through the night, I navigated to a piercing studio. They wanted me to make an appointment but the female employee seemed to take a liking to Bobby. I smiled at her – not sure how to make it convincing with a mouth I wasn't used to – and flexed a bit.

My cocky attitude paid off and they suddenly found a spot for me in their schedule. I donated Bobby a pair of nipple rings, a jeweled belly button piercing and a little dumbbell for the left brow to balance the ear stud. After some consideration and taking the artists input, I exchanged said stud for a ring.

I paid in cash and got the girl's number which I promptly lost once I was outside – didn't she know what an earpiece on the right meant? Oh well.

My next stop was a hair salon. I considered rainbow colors, but that would have taken forever. Pink would do. I had a choice between neon, which was flashy, and bubblegum, which was more subdued. I picked the latter because it seemed more effeminate and unmatching with his hyper-masculine appearance. The more fucked up, the better.

On a whim I looked for gay clubs and walked into the biggest one in the city. At this time of day, it wasn't particularly busy so the manager had time for me. I asked if they were looking for dancers. Once the man had confirmed I was indeed eighteen, he wanted to hire me right away. I told him I had to think it through but took his contact data.

The next hour was spent shopping for clothes – tank tops, muscle tees, fishnet tops, skin tight jeans, super short shorts, shiny gold sneakers, Armani sunglasses, a Rolex watch, some douchbag neck chains and two dozen of the cutest, tightest briefs and thongs I could find.

I was almost addicted to being nice, all of the sudden. Maybe it was because I knew I was spending someone else's money, but I loved helping Bobby out. With so much money to blow on nonsense, I got him an iPhone because why the hell not. I wasn't feeling guilty about throwing his old phone away, I simply didn't know what else to buy.

Finally, the pull in my head told me it was time to stop. I rode the bus home to Bobby's house, snuck into his room and hid all "his" purchases under his bed, together with the spare three thousand dollar I hadn't managed to spend.

Then I wrote a little letter. "Dear Bobby, the first time was a test and you passed with flying colors against all expectation. This second time was the reward. Look under your bed. You deserve it."

After some consideration I added another paragraph. "If you feel like showing off your body some more in front of an all-male crowd who appreciates it, I left you a contact with the stuff under the bed. The night club owner already knows about your talent. You only have to say yes."

I was almost sad I had to leave, but I knew where he lived now. So I finished with "Farewell, Bobby. May our paths cross again one future day. –-Your Spiritual Liberator"

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror so the teen would be able to see all the changes the moment he came back. The letter was in his hand.

With a heavy heart, I switched. He was almost like a son to me. A perverted, humiliated, douchbaggy looking son who I wanted to fuck. Okay, so maybe not like a son at all. But I liked the kid.

Bert Wilkins – the builder I had gotten tattooed. His victimization had been unusually subtle for my taste, so I wanted to go blatant this time.

He had had time to grow out his hair so I renewed the mohawk.

In his closet I found a collection of new clothes. They covered his shoulders. That wouldn't do. I took them all and stuffed them into a trash bag, leaving only his good old tank tops. It was a bit time consuming but I took the opportunity to cut the lower third off all his shirts to make sure the tramp stamp was visible. Then I got rid of all underwear, making him a free-baller by default.

I put one of my newly modified shirts on and left. All his useless clothes went into the trash a few buildings down to make sure he wouldn't find them even if he looked through his garbage.

Even with all the money I now had, I still wanted to fuck up my victim's finances. Like last time I withdrew as much from Bert's account as I could, before looking for the stores I needed.

It was kind of annoying how hard it could be to find a place that sold what I required. They were few and far between. Eventually I got Bert a silver thong, body oil, my trusty zip ties and three shock collars for dogs.

I visited the tattoo store from last time. It seemed unlikely that Bert had figured out where he had gotten his body art, so the artist only recognized me as a previous customer. She barely needed to hear about how I had lost a second bet, before making space on the tattoo chair.

Soon there were huge, thin, wonky letters across his chest spelling out COCKSUCKER to match the back. Between navel and dick root, I decided upon a simple arrow pointing down from a slogan. I made her add spelling errors on purpose, making it read "dont sukc this, FucK my hungry anuss insted".

The toughest part was not to get hard from knowing how humiliated Bert would become. I paid with a good tip and left grinning.

Once more I got rid of phone, keys and wallets together with his clothes. The day had progressed into the evening and the streetlights came on.

Oiled up and with nothing but a silver thong, Bert roamed the area in search for a good spot. I picked a traffic island in the middle of a busy intersection where I put all three collars on him.

If he said anything audible they would shock him. I tried out one first. The lowest level was a serious twinge. The max level almost knocked me off my feet. If I was wearing such a device I wouldn't dare to speak under any circumstances.

After making sure all three were active on max level I got to work with the ties. I was ultra careful not to utter a sound, but I had to hurry. The pulling was there again and getting stronger.

I put five ties on each ankle and connected them with five more to tie his legs together. There was no way to get rid of those without aid or tools.

People were already staring of course but with me being in the middle of traffic I didn't have to worry about anyone approaching.

My grand idea followed thereafter. I pulled the thong down to my knees and added one trio of zip ties to the knees, keeping them together like the ankles. This way, Bert had a way to cover his shame a tiny bit but it hung too low with no way of pulling it past the knees. The ability to cover up was right there, tangible, but inaccessible regardless. A nice, cruel touch. His thick, pulsing dick pointed right at the thong as if it wanted to be covered. Too bad.

The wrists received the same treatment as the ankles, fixing them together in front of his body.

Naturally, I was rock hard again and jerked off with both hands. I decided to sit down to make sure Bert would immediately see the thong as well as his new body art.

It was hard to stay quiet but the memory of the shock was still strong. I hoped he would yell a lot.

The moment I came and flung cum at his face I shouted and switched in the same moment. He would wake up to a shock – a figurative and a literal one.

Next on the list was the twink Caleb Chambers, who had surely received some online fame amongst his peers with the little video I had created.

He was walking someplace. I had no idea where, but I was certainly not going to go there with his body.

It was long after dark. In the middle of a loosely settled suburbia, with no tools at hand I decided to take a new kind of risk.

First, of course, I stripped. His clothes went into a random trash can and I walked along the empty, narrow roads until I found an open window.

Someone was inside, watching TV. I reached through the opening with my mind and knocked them out for the full three minutes. With Caleb's slender body I slipped through the slit and into the living room easily. I looked for the bathroom right away and gave the teen a thinner mohawk than last time.

When I returned to the living room, the old man was recovering and I knocked him out again. I roamed the place for a minute and found the liquor closet. In a hurry, I downed half a bottle of whiskey.

I got an idea. If I broke into a house of someone big and strong and let the stun were off, Caleb would be in trouble. But no, there was a chance he'd end up dead. I didn't want that.

My second plan was better.

I left the old man alone and searched for a house that looked like it had wealthier inhabitants. There was a mansion type building and I jumped over the fence. I wondered if knock out also worked on dogs, but they didn't have one anyway, it seemed.

With a force push, I destroyed the window next to the door. No one reacted. There was no alarm and no one home. Perfect. I would have hated to have to keep looking.

Grinning madly at my new concept, I climbed in and started making a mess with liberal use of force push. I still tried to stay quiet but the thick carpets dampened the sound of falling glassed, books, statues, portraits and vases just fine.

Once I didn't know what else to wreck, I switched. I was hoping I had walked far enough and Caleb wouldn't even know which way to run to get home.

If only he had kept the haircut and added a little ear stud or something, maybe I would have been kind to him, too.

Next on my list was Pablo Rivera. He was out at a bar with buddies. The pull in my mind was fairly consistent now. I wasn't sure I could get through all my victims. I had been asleep for so long my body was going to wake up at some point.

I had to be quick.

Pablo dropped out of the conversation and left for the bathroom. There I got rid of all his clothes and shoved them out the tiny window.

Simple stuff. I left him so I could get through to one more guy I dearly wanted to visit before the night was over.

Good old Jimmy Hunter. The slim, athletic collage boy. Ah, the nostalgia. He was drawing a forest scene on a huge canvas in his room. Right, he was an art major. The work looked like he had easily poured days of effort into it.

I was about to smear black paint all over it when I caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. I couldn't believe my eyes.

Jimmy had kept the mohawk. It looked professionally done, unlike the one I had given him, but it was the same width as far as I could recall. What a pleasant surprise. Should I be nice to him, too? I didn't really feel like it.

Instead I roamed his stuff for anything I could use to tie him up. As I opened the clothes drawer I saw to my astonishment the shiny pink thong I had left him with.

As much as I wanted to be mean to the boy, he deserved a treat. There was no reason I couldn't do both. I took the thong with me and left.

With all the businesses closed and no items prepared like last time, I didn't have much to work with. Just to be sure I checked opening hours on his phone and found to my great joy that a sex shop in town was still open. Apparently they didn't open during day time. Good for me.

I reached my destination with the pull in my head already present. There wasn't all that much time. Too bad, Jimmy would have to forgo his treat and skip straight to torture.

In a hurry already, I withdrew some of Quincy's money and entered the sex shop where I bought a huge black dildo and a lot of lube as well as a ball gag.

Lacking any zip ties I settled for a bunch of black stretches of satin.

Outside I looked for a side alley and wasted a lot of time not finding a suitable one. Well, fuck it then. I made sure no one was looking and stripped in record time. The reason I didn't want to be seen was so no one could tell Jimmy where his clothes had gone. I shoved them under some hedges.

I did not put on the thong yet, because there were a few pieces to apply first. By then I didn't care if anyone saw me – in fact I wanted people to come looking. While I tied some knots into the satin stripes I half-jogged into a busier area.

One loop got tied around my balls, tightly to make sure it stayed on. Lubing up the dildo was easy because I didn't mind wasting all the lube I had. I wouldn't need it anymore. Getting the thick thing in was a different matter and I kind of regretted having chosen such a big one. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing it would be immensely uncomfortable for Jimmy.

I pulled the strip on my balls through my ass crack and laid it over the dildo to keep it in. I pulled it along my back and up to my neck where I tied it around, only making a provisional knot for now. The beautiful thing was that the strip kept the dildo inside the ass but not perfectly. Every motion caused it to shift up and down, grinding along Jimmy's insides.

Then I put on the thong. I tied Jimmy's legs together at the knees in a complicated knot I had practiced beforehand and could do quickly.

My heart beat fast and I was sweating. Having to race against time was a new addition to these little games. The pull was getting annoyingly strong. I didn't want to leave yet.

Jimmy's hard dick pointed down, his balls being pulled backwards by the strip. I had to do something about his free hands. I pulled the thong down a bit and tied a strip around his whole package. The two ends became loops for my wrists, but I didn't put them on yet.

As a cherry on top, I used the last strip as blindfold. I added the ball gag and felt with satisfaction that it was so big it would clearly cause discomfort.

I opened the knot around my neck, pulled the strip taut and made a proper knot in its place. Now Jimmy was getting chocked unless he severely arched his back. Even then there was no avoiding having his ball sack stretched violently.

Sadly, I didn't have time to jerk off, so I would have to leave Jimmy full of cum and erect. Also a fun image. Maybe I should do that more often. I felt for the wrist loops, slipped in, pulled them shut and said goodbye.

The mind-pull sucked me out of the teens head, his rightful personality sliding back into place behind me. The trip was over. I was back in my own body which had woken naturally.

I now understood the pull better. Lingering after the fact overstretched it somehow, making me snap back through all my previous cases. I'd have to use the lingering strategically.

What a beautiful experience, seeing all those familiar faces again. Eugene would probably have preferred to get Bobby's treatment, but being nice is reserved for good boys only. Maybe we haven't seen some of these guys for the last time...