Beyond the Madness of Passions: Possession

Disclaimer: This story is intended for adults only (18+). It contains sexual themes and mind control, which are not intended for everyone. If you don’t like seeing people altered in sexual ways, please feel free to view other postings on this blog. Also, please review the information in the About section of this blog.

Author’s Note: This story is a thematic homage to the Lovecraft tale The Shadow Out of Time. The overall plot, however, is very different. Enjoy!


Beyond the Madness of Passions: Possession


What I experienced over the past five weeks was so unbelievable that I cannot remember it all. All that is there is a week’s worth of poor discovery, and whatever happened just before. The experience changed me, and may change me further, if my eyes are not deceiving me. It may even change whomever is reading this in ways unfathomable. For the Multiverse is vast, but our own universe holds secrets no Human is ready to know …




I woke up that morning five weeks ago from a highly emotional dream of which I could not remember clearly. Only emotions lingered: emotions of longing and desperate need for fulfillment. I shook it off, more or less, and took a quick shower.

It had been a month now since my civil break up with my boyfriend, and I found myself at a loss of what to do with my weekends. We would often go on long walks on the something, even when we knew our relationship was over. I always fought the need to call him, because we both knew that such contact could open wounds we desperately tried to heal. No, I instead opted for long walks on my own. Lonely perhaps, but it helped me to move on to whatever future was waiting for me.

An hour and a half later, I found myself walking on Newbury Street in Boston’s aged Back Bay. It was a cool late morning thanks to the ocean breeze, and a jacket could be needed later. I had no particular focus: There was that new shoe shop; there was that aging yet still popular clothing chain. No focus, no interest.

Then I saw it. It was as if I was unconsciously walking toward it the whole time. I barely even registered that fact that I was in some near forgotten off shoot just off the main strip. The apparent antique shop was like a relic of an age dying in memory. Newbury Street had strong roots in local, independent shops, but was becoming dominated by the larger retail chains. Yet, there the old shop was.

I cautiously walked into the dim, old shop. A charming bell chimed above the door. Inside was a wide variety of used merchandise one might expect: old clocks (some working), rocking chairs, mirrors. A glass case of old jewelry caught my eye. It held a large variety of necklaces, bracelets and rings.

“See anything you like, ma’am?” an aged voice suddenly said from behind.

I quickly turned around. “Oh, you startled me!”

“I apologize ma’am. Just had the floors redone, so they’re not creaky anymore!” the old man exclaimed lightly yet honestly.

I smiled pleasantly.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

“That’s an interesting jewelry box.” I pointed into the case.

He smiled, and quickly brought the box out onto the top of the case. He opened it, and said, “This mahogany jewelry box was hand made a century ago by a local craftsman, who worked and lived on Newbury Street, I believe. The descendent of the woman who owned it decided to part ways with many of the old items of the inherited estate a year ago, and moved out of New England. I have many of those items.” He took out the tiny shelf in the box to further present it. “You can conveniently hold many items on this tiny ledge, as you can see with these rings and earrings. Inside the box, you can hold quite a bit more.” He took out one small toe ring. I was surprised there wasn’t some immaculate diamond necklace or anything else deep within, but he may sell the more expensive items separately.

“How much are you asking for it?” At first, I thought I was faking my interest, but I was now truly interested.

“150 dollars for the box and the items within,” he said with an expectant smile.

I knew he was expecting to haggle, while only shop owners like him and car salespeople were knowingly the only ones good at that anymore. “Would you take 125?”

He nodded happily, and answered, “Sold.”


The rest of the day went quickly after that. Aberrantly, I met a very nice woman, while having my lunch in a nearly deserted restaurant. She had a similarly slim body type like mine, while her hair and eyes were a darker. There was an odd quality to her jet black hair and dark brown eyes I could not place. I shrugged it off, and let it slip my mind.

The woman’s name was Atra. She claimed her family was from Eastern Europe, and was born in Cambridge, which is just outside Boston. Her muddled accent suggested she traveled a bit like me, though.

We hit it off, as was the best way to put it. Atra even came to my house that dark afternoon. This was beyond out of character for me, but I guess, I was looking to do something out of character for a while.

We sat in my living room sipping some wine with the jewelry box sitting on the coffee table. A fire happily crackled before us.

“Why don’t you try on some of that jewelry, Sandy?” she casually asked.

“Yeah, sure! I bought it, right?” I opened the box, and placed the shelf to the left of it. Looking at the few choices, I went with the only item I never wear: the toe ring. I lifted my already bare right foot, and put the ring on my second toe. It fit perfectly!

“Very sexy,” Atra said sultrily, outside my line of sight.

“It is, isn’t it,” I said, feeling unexpected arousal.

“Let me have a closer look, Sandy,” she said slowly.

Without a second thought, I presented the ringed foot to my new friend. She looked it over with a subtle look of cautious fulfillment in her eyes. After slightly feeling from toes to heel with her fingertips, she complimented, “You have very beautiful feet, Sandy.”

“Thank you … oooh …” Atra began to rub the foot knowledgeably, and I continued, “I always liked to take good care of my feet.” It had been too long since anyone massaged my feet. My ex was a generic breast man, and ignored my otherwise glorious feet.

Atra then began to suck on my long toes. I moaned happily. She then specifically put her mouth around the ringed toe.

“Fuck, Atra, I love this.” My hand rubbed my crotch through my skirt, while the other squeezed my aroused breasts. I was falling down uncontrolled rapids, and longed to see the beautiful waterfall at the end.

Atra began to kiss up my bare legs. My vision blurred by extravagant arousal, I saw that my new friend was already naked, and helped her to ensure my own nakedness. Soon, we were passionately making out, exploring our so similar mouths. At the same time, she ground her wet pussy on my hip, while she rubbed her hip on my even wetter pussy. We passionately ground until we joyously came. The light from the fire happily reflected off our glistening bodies.

My new lover sat up, and oddly moved her hand passed her mouth. She then presented my now wet toe ring in her hand with an almost dark smile, before putting it back into her mouth. With a deep kiss, she deposited the ring into my mouth, and I swallowed it …




I opened my eyes, lying comfortably in my warm bed. It felt as if I had just woken up from a very long, very deep sleep, yet I could not remember falling to sleep. I looked around the room. No one was there, while I oddly didn’t expect anyone to be, in spite of my last memory of me having sex with Atra.

I hopped out of bed naked, which was aberrant for me, and slipped into flip flops I never knew I had, as if I had done it many times. I took my usual morning shower after I did some high impact pilates I never knew I could do, and masturbated wildly under the hot stream of water. It felt as amazing as it did normal, while I wasn’t supposed to be a regular masturbator.

Save for the flip flops, I oddly, automatically had my breakfast naked, before I woke my computer up to see my email. My first true shock was seeing a naked woman as my background picture. It was of a slim brunette masturbating on a beach. The background was cycling through various erotic images of women. I was without a doubt turned on, in spite of the fast that the first time I felt any arousal toward a woman was last night with Atra.

Then my jaw dropped. The date on my calendar was whole month ahead of where it should be! Assuming there was something wrong with the app, I woke up my cellphone. It corroborated with the computer.

I sat for a while feeling very confused. How could I loose a month? Why was I so comfortable naked? Why did women turn me on so much? Why was I more physically fit? Is that ring on my toe the same one I swallowed?

Not knowing how to answer any of those questions yet, I first thought I should call by doctor. However, he would just tell me to commit myself in some asylum. I mean, lost memory? Aberrant behavior? No, I would call people I know to casually talk about the last month, while doing the same at my job. That seemed to be the only option short of having some panic attack, which did not seem like a possibility.




It did not take me long to learn how different everything was, including with myself. Within the first day, I learned that I had not gone to work for the last month, because of a leave of absence ending soon, while much of my time was taken up by what felt like habitual exercise and sapphic masturbation. I even learned that I apparently threw out all my bras and panties. There was a great confusion within me …


“Hey, Robin,” I said through my cellphone, “this may sound strange, but, err, how was I over the last month?”

“Oh … I, ah, you’ve been different,” she answered uncomfortably.

“What do you mean?”

“I know we’ve been friends since college, but this is the most normal you’ve sounded for a while …” She sighed, and continued, “It was like you weren’t you. You came on to me; you came on to and had sex with a lot of women. I assumed you were bi all along, and gave up men. You just went through a break up and all …”

“Is that everything?” I asked, sensing yet more.

“No … I mean, you were there; I almost don’t want to sum up all YOUR actions. But maybe, it really wasn’t you … Besides the lesbian sex I know you were having, you were also studying heavily. I remember one time catching you in the library with books on advanced physics, engineering, history, and even philosophy. It was like you were back in college, but were majoring in EVERYTHING.”

“Don’t get scarred, Robin, but I don’t remember any of it, I don’t think. The whole month is a big blank!”

There was a long pause, before Robin finally stated, “If that’s true, you really need to see a doctor. Hell, maybe even a priest!”




Not long after my conversation with Robin, I found a strange list in my desk drawer. Well, “strange” was about the only real way to describe it simply. It was a list of forty-two names with contact information. The concept of a gene pool came to mind, but I didn’t know why. Biology was my weakness in public school and college, but I still knew that it was a bit small. However, it may have been enough. The strangest part about this aberrant knowledge was how every name on the list was female.

Looking at the list more carefully, I saw a mark next to every name. There were three types of marks: a check, a question mark, or an X. The latter sent a chill down my spine. I already knew the sampling was small, while each X likely meant they were no longer valid in some way. It was all so confusing, because the chill wasn’t caused by the list itself. Indeed, the check marks gave me an odd relief: twenty-five had checks, while another ten had question marks. A part of me wanted to contact the names of the list, while another wanted to forget it completely …


That night, I had a bizarre yet vivid dream. It was like viewing myself through the TV’s digital video recorder. I was in the local library studying Human Genetics. Such studies never came across me before, but that was not on my mind. Worry was on my mind. The list was representative of the precious few that … made it through? I then sensed that the list may not have been complete, while it COULD still grow.

I kept screaming “what’s happening!” but one cannot change prerecorded images like that. Then, the images of the library began to fade away, and I found myself falling into … a memory? It was unlike any memory I ever had. There were beautiful colors beyond what the Human Eye could see, while other colors of the Human Spectrum were nonexistent. I was high above a slowly charing world on what appeared to be a space station. There was a deafening mix of arousing chanting and hand waving with inhuman hands. The latter was not mystical: we were moving bright white holographic images of which I could not comprehend.

“My” head quickly glanced to the right. What I saw made me want to scream, but nothing was to change the images before me. The image I briefly saw should have been beyond my comprehension, but unlike the technology, I had comprehended it! The “body” was held up by three tentacle-like legs, yet it was hard to tell if they were contacting the dark, metallic floor. Above was an almost amorphous body, which I sensed could change to better function in different situations. Its current form was of a kind of conical slug, reflecting the unseen lights in broken ways. Near the top was a set of several more tentacles functioning as arms, while those fast moving arms held a large set of further, smaller tentacles functioning as fingers manipulating the holographic screen.

Suddenly, all motion and chanting stopped. What appeared to be eyelids blackened my vision …




I slowly opened my eyes that morning with an intense arousal. I rubbed my crotch wildly with one hand, while feeling up and down my seething body with the other. It was the most powerful lust I remembered feeling, yet I sensed I once felt greater. I grabbed my foot with the omnipresent toe ring, and lustfully sucked off my toes. Falling to my second toe holding the ring, I sucked wildly until the ring flew into my mouth and down my throat.

Inhumanly, I then arched my back, bending over to make out with my own dripping crotch. I sensed it was not the first time I had done so. It was utter perfection to feel my lips on my own, more sensitive ones, while my tongue explored my delicious insides. The more I frenched myself the less I cared about anything. All that mattered was the coming orgasm. And then, I exploded into my mouth …




The next thing I knew, Atra was standing before me naked. I think I was still in my room, but it was too dark and indistinct to be sure.

“You …” I barely stated in my confused arousal. She no longer didn’t just resemble me; she looked exactly like me!

“We are a but a question mark on paper. You are so strong willed, yet so willing.”

“What? What are you?” I barely asked.

“Not very much of anything anymore, I’m afraid. My race does not exist anymore in the material sense. We were of the material once, but we became sterile. So, our Witches, Vampires, Succubi, and others came together to create a new race through their mastery of Erotic Cosmic Energies. It worked, for a while. However, the sterility of the old race returned, eventually, and we wielded Erotic Cosmic Energies again to prolong what little time we had left. We were in such denial …”

“Then you turned yourselves into ghosts possessing other races to destroy other worlds! That doesn’t make any sense!”

“It doesn’t, because you are so wrong. The charred world you saw was mine! Our sun hit a solar maximum beyond anything we ever imagined. A few of us escaped into the horribly small array of space stations. We knew we’d be long gone by the time our world could again support life, long gone before we could physically find another habitable world in our technological state, so we enacted a final sanction. We ripped our souls from our bodies, and traveled almost instantaneously to the closest inhabited world: your world.”

“The rings …”

“Yes, those. I don’t fully understand how we became trapped in them … Well, so many of us faded into oblivion before we began to inhabit your beautiful bodies. Dying race, dying souls. We couldn’t conquer you even if we wanted to! We will live on through you, if you let us become one.”

“You want my body?” I asked in terror.

“You have changed more than you yet know, after you made love to my ghostly self. Only your race’s female form is compatible with the soul you see before you, and that form is capable of transcending into its own race …”

It was all up to me. She could never have power over a body that was not her own. I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined a ghost pleading for new life before me. There was no way I could say no. I would still be me, I sensed, as much as she would still be her. Her race could not be resurrected, but it’s knowledge could still survive.

I embraced the beautiful soul before me as if it were my own …

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