I'm going to use my body hopping powers to possess a gorgeous young woman and enjoy a vacation in her body in Getaway, available on Smashwords, Amazon, or Body Swap Stories.

I make my living hopping from body to body and siphoning off the wealth of douchey tech bros and billionaire playboys. But I need a break from that world of deal-making and stress. When I see the woman of my dreams step out of her car at a gas station I know I have to have her.

I possess her body and take her away for a whirlwind vacation. She's beautiful but timid and over the next few days I help break her out of her shell until we're both enjoying her sensual form alone and with others.

The tech bro I currently possess has a sugar craving. I gather up a handful of candy bars from the rack below the cashier and drop them on the counter next to my energy drink. This guy can afford it. I flip through my phone while I wait for the cashier to ring me up. My super special electric vehicle—a model 6, duh—still has 8 minutes until it’s charged.

“Hey, let me get a bag for all this stuff,” I tell the cashier. “Please,” I add after a pause.

God, I’ve only possessed the body of this douchebag one week and I’ve already nearly internalized his entitlement and inflated sense of ego. I have to get out of him. Take a break after a week of intense computer programming/deal-making assholery. It’s done wonders for my bank account, though. My actual bank account, not the one belonging to this body. I siphon off a percentage of his earnings for my trouble.

I’m a hopper, jumping from body to body, possessing people and enjoying a little bit of their lives. And a bit of their money. I’ve made oodles of cash doing this. It’s easy when I can hop anyone for a little insider information or a quick infusion of funds to my anonymous account. The guy I’m in right now sold out the privacy of his users to cash out so I figure some of that money belongs to me anyway.

This is how I live. Investments. Free money. Free housing. I can go anywhere and do anything. It’s liberating sometimes, lonely other times. That’s why I like to live as someone for a week or so. Gives me a chance to pretend I’m normal.

But subsuming myself into other people’s personalities takes its toll. Their traits can influence me as much as I can influence them. The borders between my true self and my mount start to blur after about a week. Stay too long and I just might be stuck in this body.

I could do it. I’ve got his full memories and his personal tastes to guide me. No one notices anything out of the ordinary because, in most respects, I’m able to act completely ordinary. In this case that means late nights with my coding partner, stupidly big parties and making deals for insane amounts of money over the most trivial of things. Half the time, though, most people don’t notice small day-to-day personality shifts. We’re all human. We contain multitudes. In my case, multitudes contain me.

I grab the bag with my candy from the cashier without even a thank you—I know, I know—and return to my sleek grey fancy car. I refuse to call it by its name. Branding is just another way of name dropping. Something I’ve also done waaay to much of this week.

It’s late at night on a holiday weekend and I’ve badly mistimed my car’s need for a charge. On the plus side, there are very few reservations for the power charger this time of night. I lean against my car and break open a candy bar. Chocolate and peanuts. Yum.

A peanut tumbles out, bounces off my gut and hits the pavement. I look down at myself and sigh. My stomach is hanging over my belt. I’m hairy and gross but still somehow think I’m god’s gift to mankind. I seriously need a vacation. Someone new. Someone nice. Or maybe I shouldn’t even find out whether they’re nice or not. Maybe what I need is to just do what I want to do. Not what my next mount wants to do. The less I meld minds with my mount the longer I can stay inside consequence-free but the less I know about their life.

I’ve got enough money that I don’t have to hop out and become myself anytime soon. It’s not like anyone is waiting for me back home. I don’t have a job. No friends. Not even a cat. I did at one point, until I made the mistake of caring for him in the body of someone severely allergic. No, better to be unencumbered.

I often leave my mounts better than when I found them. My little gift to them. Leave them clean and well-cared for. Like a vacation home. Do the metaphysical dishes and take out the mental trash before I go. The cat allergy guy ended up okay. I compensated him for his troubles. Landed him his dream girl. It all worked out. Dude-bro here, though, can fend for himself.

A car pulls up to one of the gas pumps. I idly glance over and pause, the candy bar halfway to my mouth. Hell if it isn’t my dream girl climbing out of that car, dressed as if coming from a party. She wears a conservative black dress that ends above the knees. It’s matched with calf-high leather boots and dark tights. She’s just my type: the fabric clings to her powerful legs and supple figure.  Statuesque and taller than average, her chocolate-brown hair spills down either side of her face in soft waves. Those eyes. That chin. That nose. That face. She’s perfect. I have to have her.

Flipping through techie boy’s mind I find no reaction at all to the cutie that just appeared. He likes the blondes with the big fake ta-tas. Just goes to show money can’t buy taste.

Ta-tas. Huh. I really have to get out of here before I go full bro-sef.

She brusquely slides her credit card into the machine while I munch on my candy bar and consider my approach. Then she yanks the nozzle out of its holster and jams it into her car. One hand clutching the handle to fill up, she taps the fingers of her other hand impatiently on the trunk of the car. Looks like she’s upset about something. Maybe her boyfriend dumped her. Maybe one of her friends upset her. I don’t know. I do want to hold her close and tell her it will all be okay. Seems like she could use a vacation just like me.

I drop the bag of candy by my car and casually walk towards her, trying not to spook her. She’s leaning over, her back to me and I allow myself to admire the gentle curve of her buttocks beneath the dress. She senses me coming and looks up as I quickly lift my eyes from her ass. I give her my best smile, still approaching her, needing to get near enough to hop from one body to another.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt,” I say, looking as innocent as possible while I close the gap between us. “You look like you’ve had a bad night.”

She snorts and tenses up as I near her. I don’t blame her. Weird guy at the gas station approaching her at night. I’m lucky she doesn’t pepper spray me right there.

I’m four steps away. Three. Two. One. She opens her mouth to say something and I hop from the tech bro into her. My essence fills her up and in nanoseconds my perspective flips as I’m suddenly peering out at the world from behind her eyes and looking back towards my former body. It’s a dizzying sensation but I’ve grown used to it.

I can feel the change in my proprioception immediately. I’m lighter. More slender. Graceful. Beautiful. I want to explore this divine body but there are some things I have to do first.

There’s tension running through my new mount from whatever happened to her tonight, along with a wariness at this approaching stranger. I bury her thoughts and feelings. This is my vacation and I want a clean slate. Just me wearing someone else’s body and letting their mind piggyback along to join in my fun.

“Yeah. Not in the mood for talk, buddy,” I say to the tech bro, my former self. And, god, my voice is musical even as I reject him.

I know from my experience as him that if I’m anything less than blunt he’ll see it as an opening for flirtation. He manages to read attraction into every interaction but this time he raises his arms in a gesture of surrender, turns and walks back to his car.

I feel clean. Unencumbered by another person’s thoughts. Like I can be myself again. Hell, I can be better than myself in this body.

Leaning on the trunk of the car I look down at my new form. The black dress covers my body leaving not even a hint of cleavage. It’s conservative but form fitting. The outlines of two magnificent breasts swell out from my chest. I hold up my hand to my face and admire it. My fingers are slender, the nails gently curved and painted a glossy pale pink. My long brunette hair tickles my cheek and I flip it off my face with a toss of my head. As I shift my weight from one leg to the other I feel the smoothness of my thighs as they rub together beneath the dress. I’m wonderfully sleek and slender. Such a great change from being bulky and balding.

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