Soul Sucker Summer
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https://infiniteworlds.app/shared/F4sncv
Another scenario, this time inspired by a lot of reddit posts on r/bodyswap. Heres a demo of what to expect, although this one has a lot more freedom in who you can pick.
The Sherman Oaks heat feels oppressive as you wake up late on another lazy June morning. Two months stretch ahead before you leave for UC San Diego, two months of absolutely nothing planned except maybe getting a tan and hanging out with friends before everyone scatters to different colleges.
Your parents left two weeks ago for their anniversary trip to Europe and are returning tonight - three final hours of freedom in the house. You made an arrangement with your older sister to stay out of each other’s hair and relax without fighting, its worked for the most part. You stumble downstairs in your boxers around noon, planning to make some breakfast and maybe hit the community pool later.
That’s when you see it on the doorstep: a plain cardboard box with no return address, just your name written in neat block letters. Inside, nestled in foam padding, is what looks like a sleek handheld vacuum cleaner - matte black with chrome accents and a transparent cylindrical chamber. There’s no brand name, no instruction manual, just a small sticky note that reads: “Point and press. You’ll figure it out.”
You turn the device over in your hands, feeling its unexpected weight. There’s a trigger button, a dial with settings marked only by symbols you don’t recognize, and that clear chamber that seems to pulse with a faint, almost imperceptible light.
The suburban street outside is quiet except for the distant hum of a lawn mower. Your phone buzzes with texts from friends making plans. Everything is normal, except for this impossible thing in your hands.
You sit down on the couch and turn the device over slowly, letting the afternoon light from the window catch different angles. The weight distribution feels deliberate, engineered - not like some mass-produced gadget but something custom-built. The matte black surface is seamless except for the seams where components fit together with precision tooling.
Running your fingers along the barrel, you find a small serial number etched into the underside near the grip: “PST-7-2024-JH.” The letters are tiny, almost invisible unless you’re looking for them. Below that, even smaller, is what might be a manufacturer’s mark - an interlocking symbol that looks like two circles overlapping, one filled and one empty.
The transparent chamber dominates the center of the device. Up close, you can see it’s not just clear plastic - there’s a faint prismatic quality to it, like it’s made of layered crystal or specialized glass. The interior has what look like contact points, small silver nodes arranged in a pattern you can’t quite decipher. When you tilt it, that subtle glow you noticed earlier seems to emanate from these points.
The dial has five settings, each marked with a different symbol: a circle, a circle with a dot in the center, two overlapping circles, an arrow pointing into a circle, and an arrow pointing out of a circle. No text, no numbers, just these abstract marks. The trigger mechanism feels responsive under your finger - not hair-trigger sensitive, but deliberately weighted so you’d have to mean to press it.
There’s a small port on the bottom that looks like it might be for charging or data transfer - similar to USB-C but not quite the same. And on the side opposite the trigger, there’s what appears to be a pressure sensor or perhaps a biometric reader, a small square panel that’s slightly recessed.
Your phone buzzes again. You glance at it - three texts from Marcus asking if you want to come to his pool this afternoon. His parents are at work until six. There’s also a message from Ally: “I’m going to Starbucks and then Vanessa’s. Back around 5. Don’t touch my stuff.”
The house settles around you with the usual creaks and hums. The air conditioning kicks on. Outside, someone’s car door slams. Everything’s normal, except for this impossible piece of technology in your hands that came with no explanation beyond four words: “You’ll figure it out.”
You settle back onto the couch and aim the device at the potted ficus in the corner that your mom has somehow kept alive for three years. Your thumb hovers over the trigger for a moment before you press down.
The device hums to life immediately. It’s not loud - more of a low vibration that you feel through your palm than hear. The sensation is distinct, purposeful, like the device is actively working rather than just powering on. The transparent chamber begins to glow more noticeably, those silver contact points pulsing with soft blue light. You can feel a kind of pull, a drawing sensation, as if the device is indeed trying to vacuum something from the plant.
Then it stops. Just cuts off after maybe three seconds, the glow fading back to that barely-perceptible shimmer. The ficus looks exactly the same. No wilting, no change, nothing in the chamber. You frown and adjust the dial to the second setting - the circle with the dot - and try again. Same result. The device activates, pulls at nothing, then stops.
You’re turning it over in your hands, examining the chamber more closely to see if anything actually got captured, when you hear the sliding glass door from the backyard open.
“Did you see my text?” Ally’s voice comes from the kitchen. She pads into the living room, still dripping slightly from the pool, her pink bikini leaving very little to the imagination. The top struggles to contain her chest, the triangular fabric stretched tight. “I said I’d be gone until five.”
“Yeah, I saw it,” you say, quickly lowering the device to your side. “But Mom and Dad are getting back tonight. Like, in three hours. We should probably clean up before they get home.”
Ally rolls her eyes dramatically, wringing out her hair over the hardwood floor your mom specifically asked you both to keep dry. “Are you serious right now? I’ve been cleaning all week. The house is fine.”
“The kitchen’s a disaster and there are beer bottles in the recycling from when Marcus came over.”
“So hide the bottles. Jesus, Jake, stop being such a perfectionist. They’re not going to white-glove inspect the place.”
“I’m not being a perfectionist, I’m being realistic. You know how Mom gets.”
“I know how you get,” Ally shoots back, crossing her arms under her breasts in a way that makes them push up even more. “Always trying to be the responsible one. It’s exhausting.”
“Someone has to be responsible since you clearly aren’t.”
“Fuck you,” she snaps, her face flushing. “I’m not your maid, Jake. Clean it yourself if you’re so worried.”
The anger flares hot and quick in your chest - the familiar frustration of every argument you’ve had with her. In the heat of the moment, your hand comes up, the device pointing directly at her face. Your thumb finds the trigger. You notice the dial is still on the first setting - the empty circle - as you squeeze.
The device activates with that same purposeful hum, but this time it doesn’t stop after three seconds.
The hum intensifies and Ally’s entire body begins to glow with an ethereal luminescence that seems to come from within her skin itself. Her eyes widen in confusion, mouth opening as if to speak, but no words come out. The light concentrates, flowing like liquid mercury beneath her skin, pooling and converging toward the center of her chest.
“Jake, what the fuck—” she manages to gasp, but her voice cuts off as the glow intensifies to an almost blinding white-blue brilliance concentrated right between her breasts.
Then it rises. A sphere of pure radiant light emerges from her mouth, pulling free like a bubble surfacing from underwater. The orb hovers for just a moment, and in its shifting depths you can almost see the suggestion of her face, her form, compressed into pure energy. Ally’s body jerks once, twice, as the last threads of light disconnect from her physical form.
The device pulls the glowing sphere toward itself with inexorable force. You watch transfixed as it streams through the air and into the transparent chamber, where it swirls and condenses, pulsing with that same blue-white light. The chamber seals with a soft click. The humming stops.
Ally’s body stands for one more heartbeat, swaying slightly. Her eyes have changed—the vibrant green gone completely, replaced by a flat, lifeless grey. Then she crumples. Not violently, but with a kind of boneless finality, dropping straight down onto the hardwood floor with a heavy thud. Her blonde hair splays across the wood. Her arms sprawl at odd angles. The pink bikini is still soaked from the pool, water spreading in a small puddle around her unconscious form. Her chest—those massive breasts that always drew every eye—rises and falls with mechanical regularity. Breathing, but empty.
The device feels warm in your hand now, almost alive. The chamber pulses with steady rhythm, and if you look closely, you can see movement inside—like storm clouds churning, or consciousness trying to find shape without a body to contain it.
Your sister’s vacant body lies on the floor at your feet, still dripping pool water. Her grey eyes stare at nothing, unseeing. The house is utterly silent except for the air conditioning and your own ragged breathing.
The dial on the device has automatically shifted to the second setting—the circle with the dot in the center. Containment active.
Your hands shake as you examine the device, trying to make sense of what just happened. The dial sits on the second setting—the circle with the dot. Containment. Your mind races through the other symbols. The second one is the only one that makes sense—that has to be it, right? Put the soul back in its original container.
You point the device at Ally’s vacant body sprawled on the floor. Her chest rises and falls with mechanical precision, but those grey lifeless eyes make your stomach churn. You squeeze the trigger.
The device hums to life, but something feels different immediately. The handle begins to vibrate intensely in your grip, the sensation traveling up your arm. Before you can react, your entire body erupts in that same ethereal glow you saw emanate from Ally moments ago.
“Wait, no—” you try to say, but the words die as white-blue light concentrates in your chest, rising up through your throat. The sensation is indescribable—like being pulled inside out, like every atom of your consciousness is being drawn upward and compressed. You feel your mouth open involuntarily as the sphere of light that is you emerges, and for one bizarre instant you’re looking down at your own body holding the device.
Then the device pulls. Hard.
Your soul-form hurtles through the air, not toward the chamber but directly at Ally’s vacant body on the floor. The impact is visceral—a sensation of diving into cold water and hot fire simultaneously. Reality inverts, twists, and then—
You gasp, eyes flying open. The ceiling spins above you. Your chest heaves with massive, unfamiliar weight. You’re staring up at the living room from floor level, and as you push yourself up on your hands, everything feels wrong. Your center of gravity is completely off. Your hair—long and wet—clings to your shoulders and back.
You look over and see your own body—Jake’s body—crumple to the floor exactly as Ally’s had, those familiar brown eyes now flat and grey.
“Holy shit,” you whisper, and the voice that comes out is Ally’s—higher, breathier. You scramble to your feet, stumbling on legs that feel too long, too smooth. The weight on your chest bounces and shifts with every movement. You catch your reflection in the mirror above the couch.
Ally stares back at you. Except it’s not Ally—the eyes are wrong. They’re brown. Your brown eyes in her face.
“The eyes really are the window to the soul,” you murmur, leaning closer to the mirror. You bring one hand up to touch the face—softer skin, different bone structure—while the other hand begins to rise toward the massive swell of breasts barely contained in the pink bikini top.
The device beeps sharply and clicks. You look down at where it lies on the floor near your—Jake’s—vacant body. A small light on the side pulses green.
You bend down—carefully, still adjusting to the unfamiliar weight distribution of Ally’s body—and pick up the device from where it lies next to your vacant form. The metal feels cool against your palm, and you notice immediately that your—Ally’s—hands are smaller, the fingers more delicate. The device looks larger in this grip.
The dial sits on the fourth position: an arrow pointing into a circle. Insertion. Your mind works through the logic quickly despite the surreal circumstances. First setting extracted Ally’s soul. Second was containment. This fourth one… it must insert a contained soul into a body.
Third time’s the charm, you think, your pulse—Ally’s pulse—quickening. You point the device at your own vacant body sprawled on the hardwood floor.
Your thumb finds the trigger. Press.
The device hums with that now-familiar vibration, but this time the chamber fills with swirling gas—ethereal white mist that churns and compresses the glowing orb of Ally’s soul. The pressure builds visibly, the light intensifying until suddenly it releases with a sharp pneumatic hiss.
Ally’s soul launches from the chamber like a missile of pure luminescent energy, streaking across the three feet of space and slamming directly into Jake’s vacant chest. Your body—your original body—arches violently off the floor, back bowing as the soul integrates. The grey eyes flood with color, that vibrant green returning in a rush.
Ally gasps, a raw desperate sound, and her—your—his?—chest heaves with sudden consciousness. She sits up fast, too fast, and immediately clutches her head.
“What the—” she starts, then stops, looking down at herself. At the male body she now inhabits. Her hands run down the chest, the flat stomach, then freeze. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Jake, what the fuck did you just—”
“Ally, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what it would do, I was just testing it and then we were arguing and—” The words tumble out in Ally’s higher voice, your panic making it even breathier.
But Ally holds up a hand, cutting you off mid-apology. Her expression—on your face, so strange to see from the outside—shifts from shock to something else. Something you can’t quite read. Her breathing has changed, quickened. And then you notice it.
A tent is rising in the grey sweatpants your body is wearing. Unmistakable. Growing more obvious by the second.
“I…” Ally starts, then trails off, staring down at the erection forming in her—your—the body’s pants. Her face flushes. “This is…”
You stand there in her bikini-clad body, massive breasts heaving with your own rapid breathing, brown eyes wide as you watch your sister process being in your male body with an involuntary physical reaction neither of you can ignore.
“We should—we need to switch back right now,” you stammer, the words coming out in Ally’s breathy voice as you gesture with the device. “I think one of these settings will swap us back instantly, we just need to—”
“Jake.” Ally cuts you off, and hearing your own voice say your name with that particular tone stops you cold. She’s still sitting on the floor, propped up on one elbow, and the tent in your sweatpants hasn’t diminished at all. If anything, it’s gotten more pronounced. “Just… hold on a second.”
“Ally, this is insane, we can’t just—”
“I said hold on.” Her hand—your hand—moves down deliberately, sliding over the flat stomach, past the waistband. Your breath catches in Ally’s throat as you watch your sister’s fingers wrap around the erection straining against the grey fabric. She lets out a low groan that sounds impossibly strange in your deeper voice. “Holy shit.”
“What are you doing?” The question comes out as barely a whisper.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” She pushes the sweatpants down with her free hand, and suddenly your cock—the cock that’s been yours your entire life—springs free, hard and flushed. Ally’s grip tightens around it, and you watch transfixed as she begins to stroke. Slowly at first, exploratory, her face flushing with an expression you’ve never seen on your own features before. “God, this feels so different. The sensation is completely—fuck.”
Your knees feel weak. The massive weight of Ally’s breasts shifts as you breathe harder, and you’re acutely aware of how the damp bikini clings to her body—to your body now. The device feels slippery in your right hand from the pool water still dripping from your hair.
“Ally, we can’t—this is—” But your protests sound hollow even to your own ears, especially as her stroking intensifies, your body responding to her touch in ways that make your stomach flip.
“Go ahead,” she says, meeting your eyes directly. Those green eyes in your face, dark with arousal. “Touch yourself. In my body. I want to see what it looks like from the outside.”
“Jesus Christ, Ally—”
“It’ll be our secret,” she continues, her breathing getting heavier, your chest rising and falling faster. “Mom and Dad will be home in what, two and a half hours? We can switch back before then. But right now…” She groans again, her hand moving faster. “Right now I need to know what this feels like. And you’re clearly curious too, so don’t pretend you’re not.”
Your left hand moves almost of its own accord, cupping the massive swell of Ally’s left breast through the thin pink bikini fabric. The sensation makes you gasp—so different from touching a girl, this is feeling it from the inside, the weight and sensitivity all concentrated in your palm through her nerve endings.
Your fingers move to the strings of the bikini top, trembling slightly as you pull at the knot between Ally’s breasts. It comes undone immediately, the fabric practically falling away on its own.
“I didn’t tie it very well,” Ally says from your body, her voice rough with arousal. Your cock is still in her hand, her stroking rhythm steady. “I was planning to let it fall off when I jumped into the public pool later. Thought I’d hit on that lifeguard with the tattoos.” She lets out a breathless laugh. “But this is so much better than that plan.”
The bikini top drops to the floor. The weight of Ally’s breasts pulls your attention downward immediately—massive, pale, tipped with pink nipples that are already hardening in the air-conditioned room. You cup them both now, testing their weight, feeling the sensitivity radiate through nerve endings that are completely foreign yet somehow yours. The sensation makes you gasp.
“Touch the nipples,” Ally instructs, watching you with hungry eyes. “I want to see what I look like when I do that.”
Your thumbs brush over the hardened peaks and pleasure spikes through you so intensely that your knees actually buckle. You catch yourself on the arm of the couch, those massive breasts swaying with the movement.
“Holy shit,” you breathe.
“Right?” Ally grins with your face, and the expression looks foreign on your own features. “Now the bottoms. Take them off.”
You hook your thumbs into the strings at Ally’s hips and pull. The pink bikini bottoms slide down her smooth legs—your legs now—and you step out of them, completely naked in your sister’s body. Your left hand moves between your legs almost involuntarily, fingers sliding through wetness you didn’t even know was there.
The feeling is overwhelming. Not the concentrated, external sensation you’re used to, but something deeper, more diffuse. Pleasure that radiates inward rather than outward. You explore tentatively, finding the small bundle of nerves that makes Ally’s entire body shudder when you touch it.
“That’s it,” Ally encourages, her hand moving faster on your cock. “God, you have no idea how good you look right now. Those tits bouncing, your face all flushed…”
You sink onto the couch, spreading Ally’s legs, your fingers working in small circles that make your breathing accelerate. The analytical part of your mind tries to catalog the differences—the way arousal builds in waves rather than linearly, the way every nerve ending seems connected to this central point of pleasure—but mostly you’re just lost in the sensation.
“I’m close,” Ally groans. “Fuck, Jake, I’m actually going to come in your body.”
Your own orgasm is building too, a tightening coil of pressure that feels nothing like what you’re used to but somehow just as urgent.
Your fingers find the perfect rhythm, circling that bundle of nerves with increasing pressure as waves of pleasure crash through Ally’s body. The sensation builds differently than you’re used to—not a singular mounting pressure but layer upon layer of intensity that spreads through your entire nervous system. Your back arches involuntarily, those massive breasts bouncing with the movement, and suddenly you’re there.
The orgasm hits like a tidal wave. Your vision whites out as every muscle in Ally’s body contracts, releasing, contracting again in rhythmic pulses that seem to go on forever. You cry out—a high, breathy sound that doesn’t even sound like language—and your thighs clamp around your hand as aftershocks ripple through you. The sensitivity is almost painful, every nerve ending firing at once.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Ally gasps from your body, and the sound of your own voice saying those words snaps you partially back to awareness. You open your eyes—brown eyes in Ally’s face—and watch as she strokes your cock faster, her face flushed and twisted with approaching climax. “Jake, I’m gonna—”
Your body convulses in her grip, back arching off the floor as thick ropes of cum shoot across your stomach and chest. Ally’s groan is guttural, primal, her hand continuing to stroke through the orgasm as more spurts coat your skin. Her eyes are squeezed shut, mouth hanging open, completely lost in the sensation.
“Holy shit,” she breathes finally, collapsing back onto the hardwood floor. “Holy fucking shit, that was…”
You’re still catching your breath, Ally’s chest heaving, when your eyes land on the device lying forgotten near the couch. Your hand reaches for it automatically, fingers closing around the familiar grip. The dial sits on the fourth setting—insertion. Your mind works through the logic quickly despite the post-orgasmic haze.
First setting was extraction. Fourth was insertion. Third must be… swap?
You rotate the dial to the third position—the overlapping circles—while Ally lies on the floor with her eyes still closed, a blissful smile on your face, one hand still loosely gripping your softening cock. She doesn’t notice as you examine the setting, doesn’t see you testing the weight of the device in your palm.
“That was incredible,” Ally murmurs, eyes still closed. “I need like five minutes before I can even think about moving.”
You point the device at your own body sprawled on the floor and squeeze the trigger. The response is immediate but completely different from before.
Instead of the concentrated beam that extracted Ally’s soul into a glowing sphere, twin streams of luminous energy erupt simultaneously—one from Ally’s mouth where you stand, one from your body’s mouth on the floor. The streams aren’t solid orbs but flowing ribbons of light that arc through the air like liquid mercury, meeting and passing each other in the space between your bodies.
The sensation hits you like a physical blow. Your consciousness—Jake’s consciousness—stretches and elongates, pulled like taffy across the distance. For a disorienting moment you exist in both bodies simultaneously, feeling Ally’s breasts and your cock at the same time, seeing from four eyes at once. Then the streams complete their exchange and you slam back into your own body with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs.
You’re lying on the hardwood floor, cum still cooling on your stomach and chest, your cock soft against your thigh. The familiar weight of your male body settles around you like putting on a well-worn jacket. You draw in a shuddering breath that feels right, sounds right in your own deeper voice.
“Holy shit,” you gasp, sitting up.
Across the room, Ally staggers backward until her bare back hits the wall. She’s breathing hard, hands flying to her own body—cupping her breasts, running down her stomach, between her legs. Her green eyes are wide with wonder.
“That was…” She trails off, then notices you watching and grins wickedly. She reaches down and grabs the device from where it fell near your feet. “Okay, my turn. I want to try—”
She points it at you and squeezes the trigger. Nothing happens. She tries again, pressing harder. Still nothing. The device sits inert in her hands, not even a flicker of light from the chamber.
“What the hell?” She examines it, rotating the dial, pressing different parts of the casing. “Did we break it?”
You hold out your hand and she passes the device over reluctantly. The moment your fingers close around the grip, that subtle pulse of energy returns. The biometric lock, you realize. It only responds to you.
“Jake.” Ally’s voice is serious now, her naked body forgotten as she crouches in front of you. “I need to tell you something. That whole thing—being in your body, having you in mine—I’ve fantasized about that for years. Not specifically with you,” she adds quickly, “but body swapping, possession, all of it. It’s like my deepest kink and I never thought it could actually happen.”
You stare at your sister, cum-stained and still processing the fact that you just orgasmed in her body.
“I want to do it again,” she continues. “I know Mom and Dad are coming home soon, but we have this thing now. We could experiment more. Please?”
You consider the device in your hand, the impossible power it represents. An idea forms.
“I’ll swap with you again,” you say slowly, “on one condition. You set me up with one of your hot friends. Someone with even better tits than you.”
Ally’s eyes narrow, then she laughs. “You manipulative little shit. Fine. Deal. Melanie from my volleyball team. She’s got Double-Ds and she’s been single since March.” She extends her hand. “But we swap again right now. I want to experience more before Mom and Dad get home.”
You grip her hand, sealing the bargain, already wondering what you’ve just agreed to.
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