Sam admires herself

Sam looked at herself in the mirror. Slim, pale limbs. Long, ginger hair. A loose blouse and matching pair of little pyjama shorts. She looked just the same as she had for the last year or so, since her body had filled out and made its way toward early adulthood. Yet, even as she watched… her own hands began roaming over her body as if they’d never touched it before.

They crept up her sides, tickling slightly and sending creepy shivers straight up her spine. She could feel everything. The soft cotton caressing her fingertips and the press of those digits against the smooth skin inside. But it was not her who was choosing the directions those fingers progressed along. They brushed up across her stomach and headed straight for her breasts, grabbing those tender lumps just momentarily… but invasively. Then they carried on upward to her face, stroking up the side of each cheek, before leaning in closer to admire the finer details of her features. Sam felt one of her own index fingers pop itself inside her lips for a moment, and her own teeth bite softly down on it in reply. The sharpness, pressure and warmth of her breath were all there for her to experience.

If nothing up till now had done it… Now the eighteen year old was officially freaking out. Some unknown **** had taken complete control over everything she knew as her own… and she could do nothing about it. Internally her thoughts had become just one great, horrified scream. Adrenaline seemed to be pumping through her ears, neck burning up and hairs all on end. Except none of this had any effect on the actual movements her body made. There was no indication of any distress at all in that grinning reflection, no tremble to those sloping shoulders or crossing of those knees against the still-present need to head to the bathroom.

That mirror vision of herself stepped back from itself, and reached down toward its midsection once more. With a deeply unsettling little giggle; one that had certainly never come from her own throat before; Sam lifted up the front of her own top. Her perky, round breasts were unveiled in all their youthful glory. Two pink, perfect lumps that she had up till now been quite proud to have grown into. Her hands reached up and took hold of them, measuring the weight of each with eager little bounces. She was certain now: that whoever it was controlling her had exactly as clear a view as she did… Though she doubted they could feel any of the sparking nerves their actions were eliciting. They began groping and massaging the flesh they’d put on display, using her own hands as tools to do so. With a silent gasp, Sam felt them tweak her own nipples between fingers and thumbs, sending unwanted, dirty lightning echoing through her spine.

It didn’t take any great leap of logic to recognise that it all had to be something to do with her new implant… but she had never heard of anything like this happening to anyone else. It was so utterly galling to imagine some stranger in a dark room, looking out through her eyes and controlling her every move. How was any of this possible?! How could she possibly have let this happen? And, most importantly… Just when would it stop?!