Chapter #15Get One Marc, Get Another One Free by: Seuzz   "We were going to get Mark Kinley next, right?" Anne-you replies to your-Marc's question. "Wasn't that the plan?"
"Plans can change," Marc-you says.
"Don't make it complicated," Jessica-you says. "We had a plan—"
"I had a plan," you interrupt, using your-Anne's mouth. "You guys need to shut up and get on board with it." The argument that was breaking out was a little too real for your comfort, and you're wondering if you haven't given your appendages a little too much freedom. With an exertion of will you turn the others about. Marc-you silently opens the sliding door and gets out to go around the driver's side as Eva-you gets in the front passenger seat. Jessica-you settles in next to Anne-you. There is no conversation all during the rest of the drive.
* * * * *
During that drive you touch Anne's memories long enough and deep enough to get the password into her phone so you can text Cameron: Hi change of plans. Marc and Hannah not coming. I'm going to McGuffey City with Eva and Jessica to outlet mall there. Then, while waiting for Cameron to reply, you stroke Anne's mind until you lull it to sleep. Jessica-you takes the phone from her nerveless hand, and answers Cameron's texts when they come, just as you use Eva-you to answer Hannah's texts when she pokes at Marc-you.
In fact you don't drive out to McGuffey City—a little nothing-burg a couple of dozen miles west of town, but head east on the interstate to Roryvale, an equally small nothing-burg, and from there you steer the minivan onto a state highway to make a slow, lazy circuit of a couple of more nothing-burg towns before driving back to Saratoga Falls. On both the trip out and the trip back you pass the gates to Fort Suffolk, and all eyes (except the dull and unconscious eyes of Anne-you) turn to study them impassively. Soon, you think.
By the time you get back to Saratoga Falls you feel you have digested enough of Anne Starkey's mind and memories that you can do a passable imitation. So you wake her and take her phone back from Jessica-you. "Hey babe," she-you chirps on calling Cameron. "We're just coming back into town. You wanna meet up?"
"Who with?"
"Just me. Are you still at school?"
"No."
"Well, the girls are gonna drop me off at Westside to get my car. We can get together still. You and me."
"My place?"
"If we stick to the den," Anne-you primly insists. You'd let Cameron take her to his bedroom if you meant to add Cameron to the collective, but this evening you just mean to let her run in character, and that means being demure, which is what Anne is ninety-five percent of the time. "I don't got anything new to show you. Outlet mall was a bust. For me. Eva and Jessica—"
"Yeah, you gonna bring your homework over?"
"I have to stop at my house first."
"You don't have to bring it." There's an unmistakable leer in his voice.
"I said, we're sticking to the den."
Cameron grumbles but accedes. After hanging up, the silence in the minivan resumes.
* * * * *
At Cameron's house, Anne-you sprawls on her stomach on the floor with her schoolwork, kicking her stockinged feet idly at the air while grinning and flirting with her boyfriend, the hairy, barrel-chested Cameron Huber. Mostly you concentrate on schoolwork, first on the classes that Anne and Cameron share, then on the ones they don't. Cameron quickly gets bored, though, and before long he has turned Anne-you onto her back and is looming over her with a gleaming leer on his face as he slowly unbuttons the front of her sweater. You grin up at him, and mime the wriggles of pleasure Anne would make as his fingertips work at her. Inwardly, she is cold and dry, but you've enough of a grip on her personality to convincingly fake a humid excitement.
Meanwhile, back at the Garners, Eva-you and Jessica-you take over the dining room with their schoolwork as well as their brothers', completing it indifferently in a variety of handwritings not their own, while Marc-you sits up in his bedroom on his bed and experiments with various ways of expelling your jelly while studying the external effects on the screen of his phone.
Expelling it by mouth, you discovered, is highly alarming to witness, at least when done all at once as you did with Anne. It is less alarming but still noticeable when you squeeze out only a little in the back of your throat: Marc's face deeply reddens and the sweat pops out on his brow as you choke out a fat worm and let it glide slowly up from the back of your tongue, where you let it dissolve back into you.
Even worse is when you try manifesting your goo inside your nose or ear. In the former case, it looks like Marc-you is fighting the mother of all sneezes, and when the worm dribbles out it looks like an unearthly stream of snot. When expelling it from the ear, it looks like he's suffering a stroke. No matter how you try, you can't get a worm to pop out through a sweat gland. So that leaves only two more orifices to experiment with.
You start by peeling Marc-you down to his skin. Then after carefully positioning some notebook paper under his anus, you spread his legs, clasp his knees, and relax while visualizing the appearance of a blue, gooey worm inside your rectum. It's only a moment later that you feel something fat materialize down there, blocking up the passageway, and you squeeze it out like a turd. You don't even have to sit up and look down at it; a new visual field opens up, one where you are pinned between two strong thighs that loom overhead and join together into a hairy crack. You pull the worm back up into your asshole, and your-Marc's back arches with surprised pleasure as it shoves its way up and inside. In fact, the sensation of the thing entering and dissolving back into your possessed flesh gives Marc-you a raging boner.
Which brings you to the last experiment. You lay Marc back on the bed, still naked, with his cock pointed straight at the ceiling; you grip it like a broom handle with his right hand and relax as you again imagine some of your essence manifesting, this time inside your penis. Downstairs, and over at Cameron's, your girls pause involuntarily before resuming their work with a slightly flushed heat as your-Marc's cock fattens and strains at the thought of sliding the shaft inside Hannah Westrick and expelling your essence there. Again, your-Marc's back arches as you squeeze and strokes his cock, and a moment later you are rewarded with a sensation like a geyser blowing up, and you open your borrowed eyes to goggle at the sight of jets of blue goo shooting out of your engorged tip like streamers of colored paste. Three, four, six, nine of them jet out and fall onto your belly and onto the bed, each one a tentacle under your control. When you've spent yourself, you gather them up in a line and wriggle them up your chest and neck and back into Marc's grinning mouth to dissolve inside him again.
* * * * *
"Dang," you hear Jesse Hughes mutter at Philippa Hosford as Anne-you brushes past them in the practice room the next morning. "Dr. Stemple had no business talking to you that way." Philippa shrugs, but her eyes are fat with stanched tears.
It's second period, and your bodies are in their respective classes. For Anne-you, that means Jazz Band, and you're hustling over to the chair where Mark Kinley has momentarily abandoned his trumpet. Anne-you brought a worm to school—one she dropped into the toilet this morning while peeing—and after a quick glance around to make sure no one is watching, Anne-you picks up Mark's trumpet long enough to slide the worm into the bell. It's the end of class and he probably won't be putting the trumpet to his mouth again until his Individual Practice period at the end of school, and that's when you'll take him through the mouthpiece.
In the meantime, you cast your eye about the room. Who comes after Mark? Philippa—a tall, brunette girl with a very serious mien—would be easy to get to, especially for Anne-you, who can be very sympathetic. But maybe Jesse would be a better choice. He's one of the other trumpet players, and easily the best-looking guy in the band. He's a natural leader too, like Marc Garner, and is apparently pretty popular down in the junior class.
Of course, if you're looking for leadership, perhaps you should be concentrating on Dr. Stemple, the band director: a white-bearded grizzly bear of a man, who can as easily get band members alone as he can reduce them to tears with a sharply worded growl.
But that's if you restrict yourself to the Jazz Band. You have felt your confidence growing since acquiring Anne, and you are now toying with the idea of taking over the full marching band itself. Philippa, Jesse, and Dr. Stemple would still be steps toward that goal, but you would set yourself firmly on that path if you acquired a girl like Danielle Davis, the sleek, classy, and intelligent bassoon player. She's also black, which even in your new state of being gives you a transgressive thrill.
And there's one other possibility, if you are going to turn more aggressive: Sean Mitchell, a football player and one of Cameron Huber's friends. You were careful to restrain your-Anne's reaction last night when Cameron casually mentioned that Sean works at Salopek Aerospace, which is a military contractor in town. Through Sean you could get yourself into someone at Salopek who could easily get onto the base.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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