Date: Thu, 2 Feb 2017 14:52:31 +0000 (UTC)
From: Abra Cadabra <abracadabra923@yahoo.com>
Subject: switcher part 22

  **************
   THE SWITCHER
  **************

Michael Graham was as uninteresting to me as last time, because I wanted to
mess with his son more than with him. I couldn't say why I wanted to
inflict so much horror and pain on the boy. Well, he had refused the mohawk
the first time, so that was all the reason I needed to punish him
indefinitely.

I walked into Doyle's room and stunned him once again before he had even
turned around. To my disappointment he had shaved his head, so the circle
on top was barely visible even for someone who knew to look for it. Wow,
what an asshole. He had refused my gift again.

The boy hadn't gotten many of his files back. I had been thorough last
time. I took the time to get rid of everything again, but more importantly
I decided to leave him a message. I wrote on paper and pocketed the letter.

In the process of using his notebook, I saw that Doyle was taken to using
pen and paper instead of digital files. Well, I grabbed them all and took
his notebooks with me, of course.

Dragging the zombie-like teen behind me, I led him downstairs and back into
the car. I left him with a fresh stun while I threw his paperwork away in
neighborhood trash cans.

After removing Doyle's jeans, I used the old anal-alcohol insertion trick
again to make sure he would be strongly buzzed by the time he woke up.

A target in mind, I drove off. I had left him in someone's home three
times. A fourth time would just be boring, wouldn't it?

I fell into a routine of stunning the boy about once every time a new song
came on as I navigated us to the edge of the suburb where the real city
began.

Dragging Doyle behind me, I made us both enter a mall. We made our way to
the very back so Doyle would have a long way outside if he decided to flee.

Once we were in an aisle with no one else around, I stripped the boy.

For a final time I checked the message on my letter. It said, "Hello Doyle,
I saw you undergo one of these occurrences. I'm a friend, trying to help
you. The entity who haunts your life has marked you as a finished
target. Since you keep destroying the mark you keep getting re-targeted."

If the boy read that far he was likely to be greedily waiting for anything
helpful. I was willing to give him that. The letter ended with, "If you
want to keep these things from ever happening again, you must keep the
mark. I believe, in your case, it is the hairstyle, seeing as you appear to
carry no scars inflicted by these entities (yet). Make sure the hair you
have left is always visible. Make a palm tree out of it, for example. Other
entities can be kept away by applying other types of markings. Piercings
seem to help many in your situation, although I cannot say which ones. It
may be best to try a lot of them. –Your Liberator."

I folded the paper and taped it to his left biceps. He'd notice it, without
a doubt, but would be unable to read it before he was in a safer place and
had some time to think about anything but the current situation.

This time I dared to stay. I would make it out the place way ahead of him
unless he ran, and in that case he was unlikely to spot his father's car.

On the other side of Doyle's aisle, I climbed the shelf and looked down on
him as he snapped back into reality. His mind had to be sluggish from the
booze, but he certainly understood what had happened to him – again.

A second long it looked like he was about to cry, but he took a few deep
breaths and covered his crotch before looking around. He didn't spot me,
looking down on him from in between cleaning supply crates.

To my surprise he tore the letter off his skin and read it right
there. Doyle's eyes widened and he gasped. Something like a smile flickered
across his face. He finally saw a way out of these situations. Good for
him.

When the boy crumpled the letter and tensed I figured I should get
going. He rushed to the exit, a few people along the way shouting at him or
crying out in surprise as he ran past.

I walked after him and left the mall casually, he was already out of
sight. Running had to be his general strategy. It seemed he had gotten away
lie that every time.

Driving home, I wondered if I should do anything with Michael since it was
my last visit into his head as well.

On a whim, I squeezed his cocoon to get some random information. A few
dates and facts flew by, then I got to absorb some memories. Many of them
were uninteresting – office stuff and sex with his wife. But a few were
about Doyle's recent exploits. Apparently the boy had passed his new
appearance off had his own idea and never told anyone about how he had
woken up nude and drunk in someone else's home.

Arriving at the Graham residence, I wanted to turn the memory stream back
off, but it didn't work. The man's mind was too fractured to let me simply
put the cocoon back together. Edges of his mind's pieces were missing or in
the process of crumbling.

Worse, the pieces were sinking into me like sparks. I got to know useless
details about him and his life which he would never remember again. I
switched out and could sense that it was more difficult this time as the
factored mind didn't push me away – unable to slide smoothly into place.

I felt Michael's mind reassemble as I left, falling into place like pieces
of a key dropped one by one into a keyhole – sticking together only
lightly.

Waking up in my own body I was confused. It had taken much longer than
usual for my mind to rush back through the darkness and this journey had
left me dazed.

A scary experience for sure. I needed a distraction. The pull was still
there so I went back to sleep.


***


The 14 year old Joshua Thomas was getting skullfucked pretty hard when I
arrived in his mind. I looked up through reddened eyes, blinking away
tears. The thickly muscled man above me had to be in his thirties or
forties.

I decided Joshua was going to get my second lingering so I switched out and
watched the boy master the art of gagging and chocking. The man
occasionally gave tips and made encouraging comment which Joshua swallowed
up just like he did pre-cum.

It seemed the kid had a natural talent for serving men and was learning how
to unfold his true potential. I watched for a while until the man jizzed
into Joshua's eyes, blinding the boy and me. Maybe they'd go for a second
round later, but I didn't feel like watching it all again.


***


Reginald Forster aka player number 9, was out and about, probably getting
more proof pictures. He had the pink mohawk, extremely short shorts with a
pink speedo underneath, wore the cock ring and collar and walked in leather
boots I rather liked. To my disappointment, he was wearing a baggy top that
covered his chest, concealing his tattoos and nipple rings.

After a moment of shaking my head at no one in particular, I treated the
surrounding people to a view of Reg's massive, thick, smooth torso and
dropped the shirt.

Walking up to a bridge, I poked a glory hole for the man.

"Hello there, Reg," I mumbled. "Just a little reminder that additional
clothing is not part of the deal."

I leaned over the bridge's edge, holding a precarious balance. Cars were
rushing past underneath. "Also, let me make sure you remember what is at
stake here, alright? Don't try to play outside the rules. The final round
is approaching and you'll want to be on the winning team, because if
not..."

Leaning a bit further and wobbled just as a truck shot out from under the
bridge.

"I hope you understand the message here, Reg. See you soon, unless you're
lucky and win. Somehow I'm not sure you're taking this seriously enough to
be on the winning site. We'll see."

Leaving his utterly terrified mind to itself, I switched to the last link
in the chain.

Keith McCoy was cooking at home, a plate of chicken breast just finished in
front of him. He looked perverse and stupid, but also kind of sexy. The
rainbow hair, eye liner tattoo and general near nakedness was too much,
sure – but his cock ringed dick was nicely semi hard and I had an urge
to just jerk off for a while.

I woke him up right away, pulled the shorts down and masturbated.

"Hey there, Keith." His mind was less panicked than Reg's but he was
certainly shocked at the sudden appearance of his tormenter and the loss of
control.

"Just here to remind you I'm still watching and I really hope you don't
plan on messing up. Do I need to remind you what happens to losers?"

The flare of fear was the answer I had looked for.

"Good. I only hope for your sake that your teammate won't disappoint. You
are graded together, so you better hope he's on board with the final task."

Moaning lowly, I shot Keith's load onto his food and left.


***


With my switch-chain done for the moment I entertained myself in a
different way. Using my riches I had prepared a luxurious hotel room. I had
never set foot in it and never would, but I had a few expensive cameras and
a light setup installed around the bed. There was a camera from every
angle, including from above. Several more were distributed throughout the
room so I wouldn't miss anything that happened even if it was off the bed.

Keith and Reg had met. They knew all the rules for the final round and had
gotten started with step one. Throughout the day I had received a flurry of
images of the two making out in public – wearing their usual attire of
course.

Now it was time for the grand finale.

On my multiple monitors I watched them enter the hotel room. They were
clearly nervous but I was confident that my threats had been sufficient to
keep the on the task.

The two undressed separately, before turning to face each other. I knew Reg
was straight. With Keith I wasn't so sure. He had seemed strangely eager in
a few rounds.

Luckily for me, they got right to it. Making out sloppily, the two dropped
onto the bed. Reg's huge body practically crushed the slim teen's under
itself. Keith moaned as he rubbed his naked self on the man. Aside from the
cock rings, they wore nothing. I got ultra-high definition shots of their
tattoos and piercings. To my delight their permanent eye liner looked
perfectly real on camera.

Reg threw Keith around however he pleased and eventually got access to the
boy's ass. The man buried his face and rimmed for his life. Keith's moans
seemed a little exaggerated but who cared if he was performing – I had
after all told them their show was going to have to be better than that of
the other team.

Shortly after, Reg pushed the teen around again to press his erection into
the boy's face. Keith started sucking while Reg went back to the rim job.

They played with their own nipple rings and eventually with each
other's. Keith was getting skullfucked beyond what he could handle. I
watched him struggle against the urge to interrupt the sex, out of fear to
be graded negatively on their performance.

Then Reg grabbed lube off the nightstand and smeared some on two of his
fingers. He crouched down over Keiths's face so it was the little teen's
turn to sink his tongue between massive cheeks.

The man shoved two fingers up the boy's hole and formed a hook, pulling,
twisting and wiggling to loosen the ass up.

When Reg thought he was ready, he simply got up, pulled Keith into positon
and fucked him doggy style. It showed that the man had no experience with
gay sex because he went in way to fast and too deep, but Keith's screams
were muffled as the man slammed Keith's head into the mattress.

The fuck only intensified from there one, shaking Keith so fast that he
blurred even in high definition.

A minute in, Keith cummed hands-free. Reg didn't slow down, he didn't even
notice. After about five minutes, the man pulled out, slapped the boy until
he laid on his back and shoved his dick back into the boy's mouth.

Five minutes after that, Reg went back to fucking. He shot his load with a
guttural moan, his hands both squeezing Keith's neck.

The massive man collapsed on top of the boy and they lay there, motionless
aside from heavy breathing.

I started editing the footage.


***


On the next day I sent them the same text.

"Congratulation on winning The Game. Since contestants 5 and 8 have not
performed to our satisfaction, we have elected you two the winning
team. Your price money will be given according to how well your individual
showing was graded by out committee. You may hear from us again some other
time. We consider you eligible for another round of partition once your
style deviates too far from the current one. Farewell."

I sent them both five thousand. It was a great amount of money, seen in
isolation, but it was below anything they had received so far for winning a
round.

The final video I created was uploaded to every platform I could think off,
like I had done with Allen Adams. Of course I put their full names in the
title and the tags. Maybe one or both would see it as the start of a career
in gay porn.


***


It had been a long time since my last switch.

For almost a month I had not visited a new victim. I was keeping in touch
with all my contacts, especially Bobby, but whenever I went to sleep I only
felt a faint pull, very different from the ones I had felt before.

Was I losing my ability? It was a sad thought to have.


***

The Game is over, but everybody is a winner. Also, the return of Doyle. And
Joshua found his purpose. The story is drawing to a close.