Mind Games

Rate This Story:

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

Purchase this story in print form!


Don't like reading on screen? This story is available in print form in Ultimate Archive: Volume 2 at the Flogmaster's Bookstore. Purchase your copy today to encourage the Flogmaster to write more cool stories.

Mind Games

(****, M/f, Severe, n/c, teen, mind fuck)

A unique invention allows a young man to take control of a young girl's body. (Approximately 4,957 words. Originally published 1996-07.)

I knew within seconds of seeing her that she was the next one. Young, perhaps sixteen, she was completely unconscious of her astonishing beauty. She wandered the aisles of the supermarket, nonchalantly smacking her gum, bending over to pick up an item from a lower shelf, and driving her cart like a six-year-old practicing for the Indy 500. She was not even aware of the affect she was having upon the adult males around her. She had a round, innocent face with luscious, smirky lips; her breasts were tight tennis balls, almost growing as I watched; her hips were wider than her waist, and the swaying of her plump bottom as she walked was nearly enough to make me swoon.

It was her ass that convinced me. It was so voluptuous and goddamn _insistent_ that it took my breath away. I watched the cheeks straining against the sleek denim of her pale blue jeans and my cock nearly cried out in pain it was so hard. I didn't see how the girl walked ten feet without men attempting to fondle her--she was the most glorious jailbait I'd ever encountered.

I waited for her in the parking lot. After the gawky pimply-faced teenage bagger had finally left her alone I had my chance. The Scheilzer/Damer MTU was warmed and ready. I had already established the girl as my target and I was strapped in place and waiting. The moment she shut her car door I began the transfer.

Time seemed to slow and fade away. The van became indistinct; I was no longer conscious of the headgear I was wearing. Slowly I became of aware of other thoughts, chaotic thoughts, entering my head. At first the thoughts were meaningless chatter, raw noise, but soon this settled and the ideas became clearer--I could hear rock music playing loudly. It sounded like _Aerosmith_. I suddenly realized I was in car, an ugly station wagon.

Then panic hit. I felt the girl inside me begin to struggle. I loomed over her, seeking, discovering, dominating. She was a pitiful thing, as fragile and helpless as a sparrow. Her defenses were minimal. I gripped her strongly and in moments she was mine, whining helplessly and crying out in fear. She fought me briefly, but she was unused to such mental exercise. Finally she relaxed, exhausted. She was mine.

I looked down at my chest. Two swollen mounds of flesh jiggled under my gaze. Looking into the rearview mirror I saw my face: round, cute, girlish, with long blond hair. My heart thumped with excitement and lust. It had worked. I had become the girl!

Her name was Linda, I soon learned. I quickly scanned her mind for more information about her. She lived with her parents and irritating younger brothers at 107 Chestnut Avenue, right off 10th Street.

Making sure Linda was blind and deaf, I got out of the car and went to my van. The keys were in the ignition. I drove the van to my home, nearby. I only glanced into the back seat because seeing my own body lying there, helpless, strapped into the survival chamber, was decidedly eerie.

I walked back to supermarket and got into Linda's car. Carefully I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. The girl inside me was nervous, frightened, but I was in total control. This was best, initially. In time, when she'd learned to behave, I could let her have some control, perhaps even let her speak. It would make my job of imitating her easier. But in the beginning the girls were always too panicked to cooperate properly. I would simply have to improvise. Fortunately, teenagers, especially teenage girls, are known for being unpredictable and erratic.

The first day or two was a difficult adjustment period for me. As a man, it is quite a transition to suddenly become a woman, let alone a teenage girl. I had to concentrate very hard to not give myself away. For instance, the first time I felt the urging to pee I went into the bathroom and stood in front of the commode and, without thinking, unzipped my jeans. It did not take long for me to realize my silly mistake, but habits of a lifetime are almost impossible to break. At least in that case no one but Linda was watching me.

I spent my first days assimilating into Linda's boring life. I learned about her habits and skills, her daily routine, etc. I wanted to truly become her before I began to make changes in her behavior. Early on, when I first discovered and began using the MTU, I had made the mistake of not learning my host properly--this lead to the detection of my presence. Not that they knew it was _me_--but they were aware that something was wrong with the host. I (my host that is), was forced to undergo countless psychological and physiological exams. I found my host physically restrained and completely unable to accommodate my desires. It was a miserably experience. I had therefore learned to mimic the host first; then, and only then, begin to instigate my plans.

When I wasn't around other people, I spent the time teaching Linda about her new role in life. She had two choices, I explained. She could remain a vegetable--frozen and paralyzed, but completely cognizant of everything I did--or she could cooperate. If she helped me I would make things easier for her. I demonstrated how easily I could hurt her, fill her mind with pure agony. I also showed her how I could give her pleasure. Indeed, by the third day she was my slave, rushing to assist me in whatever manner I dictated. Linda was proving to be an excellent host.

Though Linda had a wet dream body, she was decidedly chaste. She was a good girl, obedient and proper. She had never in her life given her parents any real trouble. I could find no record of serious discipline in her mind. This was definitely going to have to change.

I began subtly, giving my new Linda persona a smart mouth. I saw her parents noticed this immediately, but they seemed to think she was only moody, and this was a phase.

Next, I began to eat away at Linda's responsible reputation--I had her forget errands, ignore her homework, show up late to classes and meetings. Her friends and teachers noticed, and her parents had several talks with her. I made sure it did no good.

I also worked on Linda's sexual appetites. I could see her longings and I amplified them. I minimized her inhibitions and soon, Linda had become the school's newest slut. She hung out with the older boys, the rough jocks that wanted constant action. She wore tight clothes and short skirts. She began to smoke and drink and come home late.

Her parents were furious. They tried grounding her, but she went out anyway. They took away her driving privileges, but there was always a boy willing to take her anywhere she wanted to go. They were soon at their wits end.

Linda herself was bewildered by what I had turned her into. She cowered at the things I had her do, but she was so horny that she did them willingly. (I usually let her take over when she made out with a boy--I found the process of making love with a male disconcerting and distasteful, but I knew it was necessary for Linda's sake.)

Then I began the final part of my plan. Linda's parents, like many modern couples, had abandoned the old ways of discipline and child-rearing. (It is called "rearing" for a reason, you know.) I began to drop casual hints and reminders that perhaps an old-fashioned spanking was what naughty Linda needed.

For instance, during a shouting match between Linda and her father, I had Linda scream out, "Well, watcha gonna do... spank me?" And then she slammed the door to her room and locked it, refusing to come out.

Another time I scanned the cable guide for an appropriate movie and made sure Linda's mom was nearby while I watched it. This movie was the infamous _The Guild of Leana Rogers_, the 1971 classic with the vivid paddling of a young lad at school.

"Ouch!" I said out loud, during the crucial scene. "It's a good thing they don't allow spanking at school any more. I spend so much time in Principal Willow's office I would never be able to sit down!" And I pointedly rubbed my prominent bottom as though I was sore just watching the spanking on TV.

It worked, of course, though it took a couple weeks for the message to sink it. Kitty and Brad were such nervous parents they were afraid to try it for a long time, even after they realized it was what I (Linda) needed. And then, like many people discovering a new thing, they delightfully went overboard.

The first I knew something was up was on a Thursday afternoon. I'd skipped my math class and Principal Willow had suspended me for the rest of the week. Mom came and picked me up. She didn't say anything but I could see she was livid.

When we got home father was waiting, not a good sign because it meant he'd taken time off work to deal with me. This boded well for my plan.

Brad (Linda's father) immediately sent me to the garage. As I waited nervously I saw on his workbench something that sent shivers through my body and made Linda gasp and cringe. It was a long wooden paddle, freshly made, but sanded and polished. The wood looked like redwood, and I strongly suspected it would hurt like the dickens.

Sure enough, Linda's father came out a few minutes later and picked up the paddle. He explained he felt he had no choice--that physical punishment would hopefully mend my evil ways.

I gasped and cried out in fear (I let the real Linda do most of this as she didn't have to pretend) and said things like, "Surely you aren't going to _spank_ me. That's barbaric!"

"Your behavior is barbaric!" growled Linda's father. "Now stand up and bend over the side of that table."

I saw with a sinking heart that Brad did not intend to make me remove my jeans. "Oh please," I said loudly. "Don't make me take off my jeans! I beg you. I'm sorry. You can spank me but not bare bottom, please!"

Brad's eyes went wide with surprise--this was obviously the first time he had thought of spanking his daughter bare bottomed. But the idea seemed appealing. He came up with an excellent compromise.

"I won't spank you bare bottomed this time," he said carefully. "But those jeans are too thick. Take them off. I'll paddle you in your underwear."

I fussed and whined but obeyed, and soon I was bending over the work table with only my thin panties protecting my backside. Brad stepped up behind me. I felt like I was going to swoon. Weeks of preparation for this moment had left me in a welter of anticipation. I could scarcely believe this was happening.

"Oh my God!" cried out Linda inside of me. "He's really going to do this! How did this happen? He's my father. He's always been so gentle. What kind of a monster did you turn him into?"

"You did it," I said with a laugh. "All your naughty behavior did it. Now you're going to pay!"

"But _I_ didn't do it, _you_ did it. You should get spanked, not me."

"Don't worry--I'll feel it as much as you will."

Linda began to cry. She was very frightened. She'd never been spanked in her whole life. The concept was foreign to her. She could not even imagine what to expect.

The heavy wooden board pressed against my rump and I wiggled slightly. There was a short pause that seemed to last a lifetime, and then, with a soft whoosh the paddle slammed into me. A loud popping sound echoed around the garage. Pain flooded through my ass. Inside, Linda screamed. I wasn't paying close enough attention and part of her scream got out--a half gurgled gasp.

Then again the paddle struck. The board felt agonizingly hard. It didn't give at all as it struck Linda's firm bottom. I could almost picture her plump bottom bouncing and trembling under the blow. If I'd had a dick it would have been rock hard.

The rest of the paddling faded into a blissful haze of lust. It hurt terribly, I do remember that, but it had been so long and it felt so good, so firm, that I could not help but mentally masturbate. As Linda cried out in the terrible pain of her first paddling I cried out in unsatisfied longing, a pent-up orgasm shattering through my entire being. Some of my pleasure spilled out into Linda's area, and I felt her astonishment and delight, her puzzlement and wonder. By the end of two dozen wallops we were both oozing and groaning. Linda desperately wanted to touch herself--she even made to do so and I had to stop her. I think she would have done it, too, right there in front of her father!

That would have been disastrous to my plans, of course. I made Linda wait until we were sent to her room and were alone, and then I let her touch herself all she wanted. I had her strip off all her clothes and show herself in the mirror so we could see her incredible body and her blood-red ass, swollen and bumpy with pebble-like welts. Touching her ass sent tremors of pleasure and pain through her body--Linda couldn't believe it.

"It feels so good!" she cried out. "Why does it feel so good?"

"Cause you've been naughty and deserved your punishment," I whispered. "You are a well-spanked girl."

Linda plunged her hand deep inside herself and ignored me. Apparently her question had been rhetorical. I relaxed and let her intense pleasure wash over me. It was wonderful.

That first paddling was just the beginning, of course. I modified Linda's behavior just enough to make her parents think the spanking had been effective, but the following week Linda got in trouble again. I "let" her mother find a bottle of gin in Linda's underwear drawer.

This time it was three dozen with the paddle, and on the bare. The pain was incredible. For not having much experience Brad knew how to give out discipline. He was angry and I suppose my arrogant and dismissive demeanor didn't encourage him to go easy. He spanked us as hard as he could, and both Linda and I were orgasming all over the place. We were up half the night pleasuring ourselves. With two of us to please, Linda's body was becoming abused, but neither of us cared.

Getting paddled was cool, but I wanted more. One afternoon I snuck into Linda's parents room and found Brad's thick leather belt lying on the bed. I took it in my hands and played with it, imaging what it would feel like. I heard a faint sound and turned. Ice went through me. Brad was watching me from the doorway.

"Enjoying yourself?"

I threw the belt down as though it had burned my fingers. "Nothing," I said, and tried to sneak past him. He blocked me and grabbed my arms.

"The paddle's not enough for you? You want the belt, too?" he yelled.

"No, please," I said in my whiniest voice. "I--I was just wondering what it felt like, that's all. I saw it there and I figured you'd eventually use it on me."

"How about right now?"

"No!"

"I just got a call from Pat MacCormick. It seems you and her daughter Cindy were caught smoking pot in their back yard."

"It was just her!" I said frantically. "I just watched!"

"Go to the garage," said the voice, and dragging my feet, I obeyed. "I want you naked and waiting when I get out there!" he shouted after me.

Alone in the garage and I quickly moved the metal stepladder to the corner and climbing it, switching the hidden camcorder to record. This had been my latest plan. I wanted all these whippings on tape, so I could enjoy them for years to come. The idea of some strange man--me--watching her get spanked terrified poor Linda, but she couldn't stop me.

About five minutes later Brad came in, and he was carrying the heavy belt. He seemed surprised to find me _completely_ naked--I'm sure he only meant he wanted my ass bared--but he hadn't been specific and hell, the results were the same, right? No doubt seeing his pretty teenage daughter in the bare wasn't exactly unpleasant.

He started off with a dozen of the paddle to warm me up. Then he began with the belt, laying thick stripes across my ass and the back of my thighs. Linda had never felt the belt before and was amazed at the fierce sting. It didn't jar the whole body and bruise the gluteus maximus the way the wooden board did--the flesh-burning sting was all surface.

After about two dozen of the belt Brad returned for two dozen with the paddle, these were really painful because my ass was already so sore. I was weeping uncontrollably when he put down the paddle. I started to get up.

"Get back down!" he scolded. "We've still got to deal with your lying."

"What lying?" I asked.

"You told me you didn't use the pot and tried to blame Cindy. That's worth at least two dozen with the belt."

"Noooo! Please!" I moaned, but it was no use. I got the full treatment even though it was more than I really wanted. In truth, this was what I liked about the mind transfer experience--I was totally helpless. After all I wasn't a retired forty-six year old computer company executive--I was a sixteen year old girl getting a thorough whipping from her father. I had to take whatever he dished out, and Linda was along for the ride.

I stayed inside Linda for the rest of the school year (about a month) and part of the summer. Linda didn't seem to mind as much as she used to. She seemed to appreciate my genius for getting her in trouble and she loved the way I masturbated her.

On average, I made sure she got spanked every week or so, sometimes more. I didn't want to overdo it--Brad might begin to think that the spankings weren't effective. I made sure Linda didn't commit the same crime more than once--once she'd been spanked for something she generally didn't need another reminder about that specific sin again.

This meant I had to become creative with Linda's naughtiness. Routine things like smoking and skipping school were out. So I had her shoplift, get caught with a naked boy in her room, do mean practical jokes, etc. She was always contrite after getting caught and being punished, and she seemed quite sincere. Her parents were convinced this was just a phase.

"She has to learn how much she can get away with," said Brad to Kitty one day, and they agreed that this was their daughter's problem.

I grew a little bored with the paddle and belt after a while. I wished Brad had the creativity to think of caning the girl, but that was not in his background. I'd been caned a few times and sensation had been stupendous. Fortunately, I did manage to get a few discipline sessions with alternate implements.

The first was most embarrassing. Apparently it was a tradition in Linda's family to throw a party at a nearby park for all her friends at the end of the school year, a celebration of summer freedom. I was just itching for a good licking and smarting off to everyone. The party sounded fun so I had remained on good behavior for almost two whole weeks--no sense getting that privilege taken away. By the day of the party I was nearly begging for a spanking.

Linda was becoming more accustomed to my presence and I think she saw where I was going. She fought me, trying to get me to change my plan. I would not and she cried and was very angry with me for a while.

The day of party I was a total brat. Nothing made me happy. I would not cooperate or help with anything, and I out and out disobeyed Brad on three occasions. He was growing furious, and twice he warned me that I'd have a spanking waiting for me at home if I wasn't careful.

When I smooshed a handful of potato salad down Billy Anglewood's pants it was the last straw. Brad dragged me by my earlobe away from the others and told me that the second we got home I was to go to the garage for a long sessions with the belt and paddle.

"Let me go!" I whined.

"Are you going to behave?"

"Fuck you!" I shouted as loudly as I could, and I heard Linda inside me gasp in horror.

It did the trick. Brad's face went white. Before I could move his hand flashed out and slapped my left cheek. I was stunned. But Brad wasn't through. He turned me around so I was facing away from him and walloped my butt with his bare hand. It didn't hurt that much but I felt Linda's embarrassment rising to such levels that it totally overrode all my control.

"Daddy, please!" she cried out. "Not here!"

But it was too late. Not thirty feet away from a small group of Linda's male and female friends (the rest were spread out playing frisbee and tag football) Linda was bent over and spanked by her father. It wasn't long and it wasn't hard, but boy was it embarrassing. Brad gave her about a dozen swats but it felt like fifty--silence descended over the whole park and a stunned crowd gathered to watch the spanking. There was awkward laughter and shuffling of feet--everyone was embarrassed for the poor girl.

After it was over Linda ran away to the restrooms to cry. It was almost an hour before she had the courage to come out, and then she only went to her father's station wagon and waited until it was time to go home. I didn't say anything, but relaxed and let her control herself. I relived the experience in my mind over and over again. I wished I'd had it on tape. Linda wished she was dead.

After that, we were back to routine paddlings and whippings, but Linda wasn't quite as into it any more. That didn't bother me too much, as I still enjoyed myself, but it was fun to share in the experience.

Later, as summer began, Linda and her family went on vacation. Brad had rented an RV and they planned to travel across America for a month. Things quieted down during this period, though Linda did get a few spankings.

One spanking that was especially memorable occurred while visiting Yosemite National Park. We went hiking and camping for a few days in this beautiful valley, and Brad forgot to bring the paddle. I had Linda act up, smarting off to people, running off on her own, disobeying park rules, and generally making a pest of herself. Finally, after several threats, Brad had enough.

"Get over here! I'm going to take you across my knee!"

"Ooh, a spanking with your hand. Now that's scary!"

It was a this point that Brad realized he didn't have the paddle. Linda grinned at him impudently and he obviously wanted to slap her. Instead, he grabbed the girl's arm and dragged her off into the woods. I released control, now, and sat back to watch. There was nothing more fun than getting the ball rolling and watching poor Linda try to stop it.

"I'm sorry, Daddy! I didn't mean it," she cried out. "I'll be good."

Her protests and promises meant nothing to the angry man. "Take off your jeans!" he ordered. Linda refused. "All right. You just doubled your punishment. Would you like triple?"

Linda shook her head and began to cry. She took off her hiking boots and removed her jeans. "Underwear too," said her father, and Linda obeyed.

"Please," Linda said to me. "Can't you do something? Make him stop? He's so angry!"

I just laughed at her. "I love to see your bottom well-whipped and welted," I told her. "You know that. I think you like it to, if you'd just admit it to yourself."

"No, I don't!" she cried. "I hate it. It hurts horribly and I'm very afraid."

"Relax. It won't be long now." Linda began to cry loudly at this remark.

We both watched as Brad carefully cut off a long branch off a small tree and using his pocketknife, stripped the stick of its branches. Then he swished the long switch through the air.

"Excellent," he said. I could feel Linda shrinking inside me, attempting to distance herself from what was coming. I felt a nervous excitement in my stomach. This was going to be good.

It was better than good. It was incredible. The switch felt much like a thin cane and every stroke left a blazing red welt across Linda's bare buttocks. But unlike a caning, this wasn't a few stroke punishment. This lasted a long time--dozens and dozens of strokes--and Linda and I were both relieved when it was finally over.

Linda's thighs and bottom were covered with thick, pulsing stripes that I knew would take weeks to heal completely. We would feel this punishment for a long time. Linda cried and cried and I led her to a small stream and we bathed her bare bottom and legs in the icy water. The cold water hurt at first, but soon Linda's bottom went numb.

I made sure Linda's behavior was superb after that, and Linda didn't get spanked again until we were home again. My time was growing short--my survival chamber only had enough nutrients to keep my body functioning for about four months, and it had already been three. I didn't want to push it as it was not especially healthy. It would be at least six months to a year before I could attempt another long-term transfer. I didn't know who I would pick for that adventure, but it would be hard-pressed to compete with the delicious Linda Bayswell.

I said good-bye to Linda on a Tuesday afternoon. She was actually sad to see me go. I don't think she especially liked me--not that she knew me all that well as our relationship was rather one-dimensional--but after being together through such intimate experiences we felt a kinship.

I blinded Linda and numbed all her senses. She didn't like it, but I had to do it--I could not let her see where I lived in real life. I made my way to my house and the van. Everything was as I had left it. The gardener had done an mediocre job on the lawn, but the house was well-kept.

In the van everything was working perfectly. The power supply was only at forty-two percent--enough power for months longer. My body was in adequate shape, though it looked thin and weak. The electroshocks that periodically exercised my muscles prevented atrophy but would never replace real exercise. I set the timer for fifteen minutes and left.

I woke Linda up in the park. "It won't be long," I told her. "I'll be leaving shortly." She nodded as though she understood. She seemed listless. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I suppose," she said softly. "But I'm going to miss you. It's strange--I've wished you gone so much but now that you are going I don't want you to leave."

"I know."

"You have taught me a lot," she said. "It would have taken me years to learn the things you helped me through in the last few months."

"I know."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

There was a long pause. "Do you love me?"

I didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then I nodded. "Yes, I believe I do. You are a wonderful person, Linda. I wish you an excellent life. Be true to yourself. Don't hide behind a facade."

"I think I love you, too, but not sexually. Mentally."

"That's well put," I said. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Suddenly I felt dizzy and then time slowed to a crawl. I could see Linda, feel her surprise. She knew something was happening. The world around me was fading, the swaying trees transparent. I took a last look at Linda's gorgeous little body and I mouthed a good-bye to her, but I doubt she heard me. She was standing up, in control again, looking around wondrously.

Then she was gone, and I was in the van, groggy and sleepy, waking slowly. As usual after a long trip, I felt weak but elated. I glanced at the MTU and all the dials looked normal. I had made the transfer safely.

"What a great invention," I said to myself. "Someday, perhaps, the world will be told. But for now, it's all mine. Just mine."

The End

Rate This Story: