Let's go for it!

You decide that the opportunity is too interesting to pass up, and you can't help but feel strange anticipation towards using the ink again. It’s time to think of a plan.

All you want to do is try the ink out on someone, to simply write your name on a living person and see what happens. You won’t do anything weird, you’ll just note the effects. Like a science experiment! A… morally ambiguous, honestly pretty fucked up science experiment.

You begin thinking of people you might want to ‘claim’. Most of your online friends live too far away, and the only person in close proximity to you is your mom… and something about that feels too wrong to pursue.

Eventually, you decide that the best results would come from someone at school. Using the ink on someone you only know in passing would test the limits on how deep the supposed “ownership” can go, and at school the act could be easily overlooked under the guise of being a project, or a social experiment or something, should anything go awry.

Of course, it’s unlikely that anyone would willingly agree to be a test subject of your “**** ink”, and it’s not like you wanna go around asking people if you can write your name on their arm, so for the best chance of success, you’ll have to perform the act quickly on someone who’s not expecting it. Writing directly on someone’s body is too risky; despite your calligraphy experience you don’t write exceptionally fast, and “Bennet” isn’t too short of a name. You can't be sure you'll make it through the whole word without your subject pulling away, and you definitely don't want to find yourself in that situation, so the second-best option would be… a stamp, perhaps? That sounds like it might work. Theoretically, it shouldn’t matter how you get your name on someone, just that you do it as quickly as possible.

…Jesus, it’s starting to dawn on you how strange this whole situation is. Nevertheless, you must carry on. For science!

Hopping onto your computer, you investigate online for retailers that manufacture and distribute custom stamps, specifically stamps that print names. There’s quite a selection, so you go for the one with the quickest delivery time: Monday afternoon. Unfortunately, it seems your little experiment will have to wait until then.

A custom stamp of your name now ordered, you decide to go to bed. It’s been a long day…

The rest of the weekend goes quite smoothly, but the strange anticipation of wanting to use the ink again becomes less tolerable by the day. It’s not debilitating, but it’s enough that you’re jumping into bed an hour early each night, excited for Monday, like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Finally, Monday morning arrives. You’ve decided that you might as well bring your pen, still filled to the brim with the special ink, with you to school; who knows, you might need it, and you’ll take any opportunity you can get to test out the ink… even if you can’t write on a person yet. Of course, the excitement of having the pen with you does little to dispel the drowsiness of having to wake up at 7 AM on a Monday, so as the starting bell rings you find yourself tiredly slumping over on your desk, only half paying attention as your first-period teacher reviews the morning announcements.

As her voice drones on and on, you begin scanning the classroom for an ideal test subject. Terry? No, you don’t really know him well enough. Corey? Nah, he’s too busy with all his afterschool clubs, there’s no way you’d be able to get him alone. Amanda? …

No, not hot enough.

Wait, huh?

Damnit, stop thinking that way! This is a strictly scientific test, and you won’t be doing anything creepy.

...Probably.

Silently chastising yourself, you lay your head on your desk. Where did that thought even come from? It’s like it just appeared in your mind.

You’re still daydreaming when the first-period math teacher suddenly calls for the class' attention. As you watch some of your classmates rise from their desks, you begrudgingly tune back in and pay attention to the teacher’s words. She’s asking for… homework? Right, of course, she’d assigned some homework on Thursday. A worksheet on polynomials or something; you’d already forgotten how to do them, but still, the homework was completed and that’s all that matters.

Tiredly rummaging through your backpack, you start checking each pocket. Hm. Not here… not here, either. Your hand movements become more and more frantic as you check each possible hiding space, hope waning as you eventually realize you’ve gone through the entire bag.

It’s not here. You know you did the stupid homework, you remember doing it, but there’s no trace of it inside your bag. Like it never existed. Searching the area around you in vain, you eventually conclude that you must’ve left it at home, either on your desk or in the living room.

Great, just great. You’re already averaging a C in this stupid class, why not drag your marks down a bit further, right? Frantically glancing around for a solution, your eyes drift to the desk next to you.

It belongs to Jeremy, your desk partner. He’s quiet, and you don’t really talk to him, but he happens to be pretty decent at math. He’s not the type to actively show others his grades, but from the many jealous peeks you’ve snuck at his marked assignments whenever he’s not looking, he seems to be doing quite well. You scan his desk, and laying right on top is his homework, completed and ready to hand in. You glance around the classroom and spot Jeremy talking to the teacher. They’re both distracted. Now’s your chance!

Time for another test, you think. Quickly retrieving your special pen from your pencil case, you slink over to Jeremy’s desk and, checking that the coast is clear, rapidly jot your name down onto his paper. You try to cover Jeremy’s own name for better effect, but it only serves to make your own mark slightly less legible. Let’s hope that fact doesn’t have any unintended side effects.

Placing the pen into your pocket, you grab the sheet and stand back up. Turning away, you prepare yourself to hand in the homework, only to be interrupted by-

“Ahem.”

Standing over you, hands on her hips like a cop and shooting daggers from her eyes, is Ms. Spruce, your first-period math teacher. Her long blonde hair and pale skin does little to mask her reddened cheeks, and metaphorical steam seems to be escaping from her ears. Sulking behind her stands Jeremy, arms crossed and giving you an equally icy stare. Whoops… Guess you weren’t being as stealthy as you thought.

As you tilt your gaze upwards to look at her, stolen homework in hand, Ms. Spruce angrily snatches the paper from your trembling clutches.

“Stealing another student’s homework, Mr. Jones?” she hisses through gritted teeth, veins protruding from her forehead. It’s strange; she can’t be more than 25, but her aggressive demeanor makes her seem anything but young. You briefly wonder if you need to duck for cover, seeing as she looks like she’s about to explode.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time you’ve been chewed out by Ms. Spruce. Despite technically being a high-school teacher, she has the temperament of your average grizzly bear, so it’s not uncommon that class might be interrupted every once in a while by Ms. Spruce freaking out on some poor sod in front of everybody. Sometimes that unlucky fellow happens to be you, but you sit near the back of the class, so her attention is usually gravitated towards someone and somewhere else… today being an awful exception. Why couldn’t you have gotten one of those nice teachers that give out candy?

You glance around the room. Everyone in the class is staring at you, their judgmental eyes boring deep into your soul. For a moment, you catch the gaze of a certain student… Charlotte. The one girl at school you have a crush on. God, you look like such an idiot.

"There is absolutely NO room for plagiarism in my class!" Ms. Spruce explodes, rivulets of spittle flying from her mouth. Flinching, your face turns a bright crimson red. As you begin to sputter out an apology, you watch as Ms. Spruce flips over the page and rests her eyes on your name, newly scrawled upon the completed paper. "Such a blatant display is-"

The words seem to catch in her throat. In an instant, her entire body freezes, and you watch in dazed fascination as her eyelids droop tiredly and her expression goes blank. You notice her pupils fogging up, and it almost looks like she’s staring right through the paper as her heavy breathing relaxes into deep, calm breaths, her agape mouth shrinking into a small "o".

After a couple of seconds, the light returns to her eyes and she turns back to you, lashes fluttering, as she apologizes.

“Hm. My fault, I seem to be mistaken. You, uh, don’t mind if I take this, do you? I’m going to need to mark it.”

…

There’s that feeling again, but it’s much more intense this time around, pulsing through you in small waves. Though the moment was fleeting, the emptiness in her eyes as she simply read your name, as the anger drained from her face, as the magic took over her…

Extraordinary.

Spellbound, you silently shake your head, and Ms. Spruce tromps back to the front of the room, your paper in hand. Jeremy looks like he’s about to say something, but freezes, catching a passing glance at the homework as it travels past him. After a moment's hesitation, he simply shakes his head and begins walking towards you.

Pushing past your frozen expression, Jeremy passively sits back down at his chair, apparently none-the-wiser to the fact that he’d just had his paper stolen. Still coming down from the high, you shuffle back to your own desk.

As the strange feeling begins to dissipate, you’re reminded of a similar experience you had on Friday, when you’d tested the ink with mom. It was the same feeling, wasn’t it? A feeling you’d never had before, like a mix of contentment, bliss, and… conquest. And it felt…

...

Good? You… you can’t remember anymore. What were you thinking about, again?

It’s probably nothing, you realize, and as the memory of the feeling fully fades from your mind once again, you spend the next couple minutes relishing in the success of your plan.

Even though you had been caught in the act, your ownership of the paper seemed to overwrite any sense of suspicion, even causing Jeremy to forget that the paper you stole was, in fact, his. This ink really is powerful, you realize, and the more you learn about it, the less doubts you have that it will work against a person. A frightening thought, but an exciting one as well. And speaking of…

You decide you might’ve just found the perfect test subject in Ms. Spruce. It should be easy enough to get her alone tomorrow… how exactly you aren’t sure, but you'll have the rest of the day to figure it out.

You glance around the room and your eyes set upon Charlotte, facing forwards and away from you. Does she still think you stole the paper? Does she even care? You sigh. Likely not, but the thought terrifies you.

Either way, It was a close call, but it’s well worth it getting to see Jeremy tear through his backpack, trying to find his newly non-existent homework.