Author's Note: Stories on this site may contain fiction of an adult nature. They may contain themes involving Incest, under age sex, rape, bestiality, drugs or alcohol abuse. If these subjects make you uncomfortable please exit now. The stories are meant for the entertainment of adults as defined by your local government or society, if you are below this age please exit now. The author does not condone or encourage anyone to act in real life the way the characters depicted in this story act.

First Published: 29 November 2015

The Exchange
by Isabella

Story Codes: M/F, Sci-fi, Possession

Twenty thirteen was a good year for me, as a performance artist it had been my most productive year, a career best, the downside though is the amount of tax you have to pay, especially in a tax heavy country like Great Britain. I'd set my tax lawyer the task of trying to reduce my tax burden as much as possible, I was willing to do anything it took just short of 'Tax Evasion', the current buzz term was 'Tax Avoidance', using bad tax laws wherever possible to keep as much of my hard earned money in my bank account rather than in the treasury's coffers.

The best advice I got was to take a holiday for a while, get away from work and stop piling money in my bank account week after week. Because my agent could manage the payment dates for work I'd done in the second half of the tax year, parlay the monies coming in so that they actually hit my books in the first half of the next year so on paper I could look like I'd earned my money over two years. My holiday was booked, a world tour, doing a performance here and there, English speaking countries or countries with large English speaking populations and while I was away my home base was moved to Jersey, an island with far more gentle tax laws.

I got another piece of advice, 'Write a book', take two years over doing it, make sure you write at least a chapter in every country you visit while on holiday and that way we can claim back every penny you spend over the two years. So that was the grand plan, change of domiciliary arrangements, spread my earnings over two years rather than one, soak up as much money as possible having fun and then get all that money back from the tax man.

Well, I'd set up my off shore company in the Cayman Islands, written my book, a light hearted look at modern relationships and that was almost ready for release. I'd settled down in my new rented house close to the sea in Jersey and was enjoying a little time to myself experimenting with the latest synthetic, mind altering drugs, so new that they hadn't been classified as illegal yet.

I had an appointment booked with the BBC to sit on the breakfast couch to publicise my book, tell a few jokes and then return to my island stronghold before the sun set, if I arrived in the UK after sunrise and left again before sunset it wouldn't be counted as one of my twenty eight days, the length of time I was allowed to work in the UK before I had to hand over more than half of what I'd earned in various taxes.

Well, to say that it came out of the blue was an understatement, the breakfast show called my agent at four o'clock in the morning, one of their guests for that morning's show had been stranded in America and wouldn't be in England until after the show went to air so they asked if I could be brought in a few days early. There was no real time to think, never mind plan, if I'd thought, if I'd been able to think I would have turned down the request. During the previous evening I'd drunk close to a full bottle of Jack Danials before turning to a cocktail of new-age pharmaceuticals that I had never tried mixed together before, in fact, the drugs were so new that I doubt if anyone ever had tried them together.

There was a flight from Jersey that took off at five o'clock heading for Manchester, a small jet that would get me on the ground in Manchester at six thirty in the morning, the BBC would have a car waiting for me to get me into their Salford studio by seven fifteen for a slot on the couch at seven thirty. I knew that I was going to have a few problems as soon as I saw the aircraft, very small, no first class section, all of the seats on the eighty seat aircraft were the same. As I'm on the large side I knew that my ninety minute flight wasn't going to be a pleasure so I popped a few pills to take my mind off of the trip, just adding to the cocktail of drugs flowing through my body.

As I was a late booking there were only three free seats on the aircraft and everyone was already seated when I walked through the aircraft, my seat was at the side of a man who was even larger than me and his body was already spilling over half of my seat even with the armrest down. I approached the stewardess for a change of seat, she told me to take my pick as I was the last passenger to board but they wanted me seated as quickly as possible.

I quickly appraised the options, two other men and a woman were sitting alone on double seats, the woman was the slimmest option, well, slim body but rather large chested, she certainly didn't dress very well, sorry, that wasn't fair, her clothes were well made, expensive but they made her look middle-aged, even though I suspected that she was probably much younger, she was reading a book, I asked her if it was okay for me to take the seat next to her. I was smiling, expecting her to look up from her book and recognise me and that would lead in to an opportunity to have a conversation as we flew up to Manchester.

She didn't even look up from her book, she just nodded her head. I sat down and looked her over, I got to her face and smiled, she had a killer body hidden under her 'Twin set and pearls' clothing, thick woollen tights, her skirt was knee length, what I could see of her blouse was thick, linen, cream coloured, buttoned up to her neck, more suitable for a Scottish winter rather than a summer morning on the sunshine island of Jersey and her jacket, like her skirt was heavy tweed. No makeup, hair pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head, not only wasn't she trying to present herself in the best light she was actively working against her best points. She could look almost pretty if she dressed right and used colour to her advantage.

The stewardess ran quickly through the safety announcements and we took off and headed north. I settled in to the total boredom of ninety minutes on board the aircraft that was little more than a bus with wings and actually a little less comfortable than most busses that I'd used in my working career.

Twenty minutes into the flight things started to get a little rough, the sky looked clear but the windows were suddenly being pelted with heavy rain, then the aircraft began a slow wallow that was just at the right frequency to set my stomach off, I suddenly found a strong need for the bathroom or a sick bag or both. I headed for the toilet at the front of the aircraft just behind the cockpit and after I'd struggled ten feet the captain turned on the 'fasten seatbelts' sign.

I was spotted by the stewardess and told to return to my seat, I'd just turned, I had an attack of stomach gripe so instead of holding on to the seatback to steady myself I was holding my stomach. The pain in my stomach was suddenly forgotten as I felt my weight being taken away from my feet; I seemed to be being left behind by the aircraft. There was panic on the faces of all the other passengers strapped into their seats and suddenly my body was horizontal and my chest inches higher than the seat backs.

There was a loud bang, people all around were screaming, the inside of the aircraft was suddenly lit up by a lightning strike, and as balls of electricity were fizzing and bouncing around inside the aircraft the port wing suddenly lifted throwing the woman who I'd been sitting next to straight at my head. I was the only static thing on the aircraft and everything was moving around me. I tried desperately to rejoin the aircraft by grabbing onto the back if the seat in front of mine but failed because everything was moving around me far too fast.

There was another blinding flash as a second lightning bolt struck the aircraft at the moment my head collided with the woman I'd been sitting next to and everything went black in my head...

"Can you hear me love?"

'Of course I can hear you, you're shouting right in my ear!' Oh dear, nothing came out, my mouth isn't working.

"Yes I can hear you."

"Can you tell me your name dear?"

'Don't you recognise me? I was big on the TV only two years ago!'

"Victoria Clark!"

'Who's talking to you bitch, where are you anyway? Nurse, Nurse, I can't move my head, what's wrong with me, all I did was bump my head!'

"Can you remember what happened to you Victoria?"

'Fuck her, look after me, I'm paralysed, I can't move anything, not even my mouth!'

"We were on an aircraft, we hit a weather front and the aircraft fell thousands of feet, a fat man crashed into me, I think we banged our heads together, they took him away, they'd covered his face, God, was he dead?"

I was non-pulsed, my head had turned all on its own and now I could see that there was just the nurse and me in a small room, what the hell was going on here? Who was this Victoria Clark woman that kept answering the nurse's questions? Was she on the other side of me somewhere and if she was why wasn't the nurse sitting next to her?

"Don't worry about him, we're here to try and get you well again, I've seen that you can move your head now, do you have any feeling in your arms yet?"

"Yes, the doctor brushed a feather over both of my hands and feet, I could feel it quite easily."

"Can you try lifting your left arm?"

'I've told you I'm paralysed, I can't move anything!'

Suddenly I saw my left arm twitch and move slightly up off of the bed but I wasn't trying to move it I was very confused now and then the room went black...

"What's it like to be home again at last Vicky?"

What's going on? Where am I? And who's this Vicky again? I seemed to be stepping out of a car in front of a block of flats.

"I've been looking forward to this for six months, who'd have thought that it could take six months to fly from Jersey to Manchester?"

What the fuck, that was loud! Where is she? Inside my head?

"I still can't help thinking of that man that died during the flight, I want to go to his grave and pay my respects, you know, lay flowers. They'd buried him before they told me he was even dead."

"He was some kind of famous comedian or singer or something. I think they buried him on Jersey someplace, that's where he was living at the time."

They were talking about me, talking as if I'd died during the flight from Jersey to Manchester, 'Hey, I'm not dead, I'm here, why can't you hear me?"

"I need to go to Jersey again then but I won't fly next time, I'll go over on the ferry, I had to take two Valium to get me on the plane from Jersey and look how that turned..."

God, I must have blacked... hello, what's going on here... why is his face so... 'God no, don't kiss me, I've never batted for that side, stop, pack it in, pack it in right now!'

He seems to be fucking me and he's kissing my...God, when did I get breasts, oh...no, he's not fucking me, he seems to be fucking a woman, that Victoria Clark bird that I was sitting next to on the flight to Manchester, I thought she'd have lovely tits under that forties costume she was wearing. And God was I wrong, they aren't just lovely, she has a fantastic rack, I wonder why she isn't playing with them while he fucks her?

I wonder if I can move my arm yet...

This was the first time that that I'd allowed my husband to have sex with me since the accident almost a year ago, almost a year since my flight was forced to land at Exeter Airport after the accident, after I'd killed that poor man, or rather he'd killed himself when he head butted me as the aircraft plummeted towards the ground at five hundred miles an hour. We could have had sex months ago but I felt uncomfortable, I had the feeling that I was being watched, watched by some kind of spirit or ghost, God I hope it wasn't the ghost of that poor dead man.

Johnny was getting me off nicely, well, he was driving me mad really, full blown sexual passion and at the point that I began to climax Johnny suddenly stopped fucking me, he held his body stationary above my body looking down at me. My climactic mountain collapsed around my ears and I looked down at what Johnny was looking at. I was surprised to see my own hands mauling at my breasts, it shocked me, I'd never done anything like that before during sex, I was usually the kind of girl that just lay there, you know, 'Thinking of England!' as it were.

Well, I wasn't just lying there this time, perhaps it was the long time since the last time we'd had sex but now, here I was, unconsciously mauling my own tits, pinching my nipples between my thumbs and index fingers and twisting like mad, my hips still trying to thrust upwards to meet my husband's now stationary body, I was aware of a faint voice in my head telling me to fuck him and fuck him hard. I never used words like that, not even in my wildest fantasies, it just wasn't the kind of woman that I was.

"What the hell are you doing? I don't know what's got into you these days; you have really changed since your accident!"

"Come on, don't stop now, fuck me, I want to cum, fuck me harder!"

Jesus, that actually came out, I don't believe it, I can actually talk through her!

What was that, why did I say such a disgusting thing?

'Come on man, give me a good...' Sod it, that didn't last very long, she must have regained her senses after her orgasm ended

"Vicky, what was that all about? You've never acted like that before!"

"I have no idea what came over me darling, probably just been too long since we last did it!"

And I have no idea how I could have said the 'F' word out loud like that, it wasn't even in my head, just popped out.

Well, it looks like it's all over, Johnny got seriously turned off when I took over her body and tried to get her more out of their vanilla bedtime, I wonder if I can take over her body again or if I can only do it when she loses control during sex?

I'm just going to have to bide my time, keep trying to stay with her as much as I can and try to take over her whenever I get the chan..."

I have to try and stay calm, concentrate on keeping in control of my emotions, pity Johnny got freaked out when I lost control. I heard that strange voice in my head again when we were fucking and I'm sure that it wasn't me, wasn't my thoughts.

All I can hear is breathing, it's black all around, it sounds like I can hear breathing next to me as well, probably that bloke that was fucking me earlier. Oh, that's better, I can at least see now, the curtains are open and there's a full moon and no clouds in the sky.

I can't hear her thoughts so she must be asleep thank God, at least I can try and sort out how everything works in here without her fighting me every step of the way, I got her eyes open, he must be lying behind her, can I turn her over so I can see if I'm right?

That's it, that's got turning sorted out. He looks quite handsome in a pious, religious kind of way. Now let's see if I can get her out of bed, legs are a lot more difficult to work than arms and hands. God, her choice of pyjamas is worse than her choice in day time clothes. I can't believe this pair, they're both in bed and asleep and it's only just past ten o'clock at night.

I need to find something suitable to wear and find some excitement to try and shake this dull bitch up a little, I have no idea how long I'm going to be stuck in here but I won't survive for very long unless I can get some life into her. I started out with her top drawer; I knew full well that every woman kept her knicker collection in the top drawer of her dressing table. I was throwing knickers over my shoulder as I rejected them; all I could find in her top drawer were white granny-panties, they were all huge and about as sexy as a burka. I'd gone through every drawer before I found a sealed packet with a sticky label on the front with a message, "Emergency wedding night equipment, simply tear open and wear to start the wedding night off with a bang!"

It was a stroke of luck, one of Victoria's friends had given her a gift of sexy lingerie on her wedding day, Victoria had chosen not to even open the gift from her friend but had at least just stuck it at the back of her bottom drawer, a good result for me. White satin half cup bra, suspender belt and thong that were more lace than satin. I threw her pyjamas off and the white cotton utility bra and granny knickers. I stood in front of her full length mirror and even in the moonlight I could see the 'Ginger Tom cat' sleeping in her lap. I'd need to do something about that in time but for now I needed to get her out of the house and get her fucked.

I found a baggy T-shirt that could have been used as a dress if Victoria were a different kind of a woman; I set to with a pair of scissors and cut it off somewhere around the middle. When the newly cut-down top was on and I looked at myself in the mirror the lower strap of the bra could be seen if I stood as upright as possible. Then I found a tennis skirt, the kind that had built in shorts so that nothing was ever on show no matter how frenetic the game got. The scissor came in handy again, cutting the shorts out of the tennis skirt. I didn't bother with makeup, there wasn't enough light for that, just dragged a brush through the ginger mop of hair on top of Victoria's head and, grabbing her favourite handbag, left the house and headed for the comedy club.

I paid my five pounds entry fee and found a chair to sit on; six men flocked to my side like flies to a pile of top quality dung and I soon had more drinks than I could possibly handle. Fred Pincent was doing his set, I'd known Fred for years, he'd made it to the top and was on his way down again. He needed to get new material, his sexist and raciest jokes were far too, nineteen eighties for today's audience and he was ejected after only telling five jokes out of his hour long set.

Things went very quiet, the next act was nowhere close to being ready to go on so I stepped up to the microphone, I tapped it twice and said, "I've just got home from one of those posh holiday cruises. You know the type of thing; Queen Elizabeth would look out of place because she's nowhere near as posh as the other passengers on the ship. Everything went great until the Captain's birthday, the crew put on a special gala night, you know, one of those authentic nineteen forties theme nights. Everyone dressed up in period costumes, every one threw themselves into their roles. The captain even had a false 'Captain Birds Eye' beard glued to his face and a copy of the captain's uniform from the forties as well. The evening went well, very authentic until we were torpedoed by a German U-Boat just off the coast of Ireland..."

When I started talking the room was in total silence, by the punch line everyone was laughing and clapping me. I took a bow and more of my bra popped into view to the folks in the first row of tables and that got me even more applauds. I told a few more jokes, they were jokes I'd been working on while holidaying in Jersey, waiting for my year long tax exile on the island to end.

When I went into the club I hadn't spotted Rubin, my agent was in the audience looking for new talent, he hadn't even entered my thoughts since my flight back to Manchester when he was definitely in my thoughts because he'd booked me on the flight from or rather to hell.

Well done my dear, my name is..."

"You're Rubin Goldboum, theatrical agent specialising in comedians; you're Fred Pincent's agent aren't you?"

"I was Fred's agent but I gave him a totally new routine to use and he turned me down so he could keep doing his act from the early eighties, actually you did several of the new jokes that I'd offered to Fred and strangely, I thought I was the only person alive today who knew those jokes, may I ask you how you came by them?"

Rubin wrong footed me slightly so I had to think fast, it hadn't dawned on me that Rubin would have seen my notebooks in my house on Jersey, "I met a very famous comedian while I was working on Jersey last year, he tried to pick me up in a bar, told me loads of jokes while he was trying to get me into bed."

"You mean he failed to get you into bed? That surprises me a lot!"

"It was my wrong week, he said he didn't fancy it messy, what can I tell you?"

"You could tell me that you're looking for an agent or a sex partner, preferably both!"

I had to laugh inwardly as the thought 'would Rubin hit on Victoria if he knew I was in here pulling her strings?' amused me for a few minutes, "I was thinking of offering Fred a consolation fuck, he really bombed here tonight."

The comment had been a spur of the moment quip but then I remembered back to my apprenticeship, I had started out in the comedy game at the same time as Fred, we often toured the northern clubs together, sharing transport costs as well as hotel rooms, Fred had quite a reputation in his youth and from the number of times we shared a room together I'd seen his 'Equipment', he was very well endowed and was always a hit with the groupies that hung around the stage doors of those northern clubs.

"Perhaps you could help me get back stage to Fred's dressing room Mr. Goldboum"

"Well, I'm not Fred's agent anymore but I'm sure I could help you to get back stage but I am disappointed, I could do far more for you than Fred Pincent can!"

"I'd heard that Fred was quite an accomplished lover."

"Perhaps when he was younger but he has been out of the game for a few years now, ignore him, come with me, there's a nice clean hotel just round the corner from here."

Well, it's the first bite of the cherry for Victoria, not sure I could hold down the contents of my stomach having my old agent grunting on top of me but just like Rubin's wife must have done many times in the past, I'll just have to close her eyes, lie back and think of England.

I allowed Rubin to take me to the Alba Hotel, I stood awkwardly while Rubin tried to negotiate the tariff down a little because he put so much business their way and finally we got the key to a grotty double bedroom at the front of the hotel. I undressed quickly but Rubin beat me into bed, mainly because I'd caught sight of Victoria's reflection in the mirror, it was taking me a lot of effort to get over what I saw when I looked in the mirror. I remembered the woman Victoria was when I first saw her, she could easily have passed for thirty years older than she actually was and now as I or should I say we stood there pulling off that sexy wedding night lingerie.

As I was stepping out of the sexy knickers I realised that Victoria was conscious, she thought that she was dreaming, I made her walk as sexily as I could over to the bed, I pushed Rubin onto his back, climbed up onto the bed, straddled his hips, reached between us, pulled his cock away from his body and slid my cunt down over it. As I felt Rubin's cock slide into my cunt I felt sudden confusion from Victoria, she had no idea what a circumcised cock would look like, she had no idea that people could have sex in this position and she had no idea that sex could feel anything like this so how could she be dreaming about it. As the powerful orgasm washed over me Victoria realised that it wasn't a dream, that she was awake and a total stranger was fucking her.

It was more than a fight to keep Victoria from leaping off of Rubin, to stop her from screaming rape. I managed to hold her until I felt her starting to enjoy the fucking she was getting from the much older man and I started to relax my hold on her as she slowly took over from me. I even started to suggest things directly into her head and slowly she began to accept my advice and she started to really get into fucking Rubin.

It was as if I had awoken a long sleeping beast inside Victoria, she fucked Rubin until he was nothing more than a husk, she had totally emptied his reserves, drained his viral elements and when he couldn't perform any more Victoria got dressed.

'Where the hell did I get the lingerie set from?'

'It was at the back of your bottom drawer, looked like it was a wedding present from one of your friends'

'I don't think any of my friends would have...ah, I remember, not friend, a woman at work, she thought that I needed something to liven Johnny up a little on our wedding day. She thinks we're both a little...lot boring!'

'Well you were when we first met.'

'Who's the guy in bed?'

'His name is Rubin Goldboum, he was at the comedy club earlier, he watched you perform on stage!'

Victoria pulled her tennis skirt on and the cut down T-shirt, she looked at herself in the mirror.

'I can't go home dressed like this; I'll be arrested for indecency.'

'You look wonderful and you're far from indecent, I could have dressed you much more inappropriately than this, the audience loved you too, you'll have to get the local newspaper tomorrow afternoon, I think their critic was in watching your show, probably get a photograph in the article as well, I saw the hack talking to someone who took a lot of pictures of you as you performed.'

"Before you go, you did say that you'd sign a contract with me to represent you, you'll need my card, give me a call tomorrow and we can arrange a time to come in and see me!"

"I don't need your card Rubin; I could find your office with my eyes closed in a blackout. I'll come and see you on Wednesday afternoon, isn't that the day your PA has the afternoon off?"

"Well, yes, but how did you know that?"

"Don't you worry about that Rubin, you just draw up the contract, my stage name will be Sticky Vicky, and you can have twelve percent, make sure that you write that into your contract or I won't sign it!"

"My usual terms are twenty percent!"

"Yes I know but you don't usually get to fuck your acts as well as get payments from them."

We left the room and walked down the stairs, it was four o'clock in the morning, Victoria had never in her life been out on the streets of Manchester at that hour of the night and what she saw walking the streets at that hour shocked her but she realised that the way I'd dressed her wasn't at all out of place.

'So, who the hell are you?'

'We met on the flight from Jersey to Manchester!'

'So, you are the...'

'Fat man, it's okay to say it, I know that I was overweight, too much good living, too much burning the candle at both ends.'

'So, am I stuck with you in my head, in my body?'

'I don't know how it works, it seems to me that I've been washing around inside your head for years now.'

'What was that all about with that man, the contract?'

'I'm getting back into performing, I'm sorry but I'm going to need your body to do it.'

'I have a job, I'm perfectly happy with my life the way it is!'

'You can lie to yourself all you like but remember I'm in here with you, I know how much you enjoyed fucking Rubin, how much more than fucking that religious lackwit you married.'

'Hey, I love my husband; you can't talk about him like that.'

'Were going to have to come up with some kind of agreement, a time sharing arrangement or I'll have to take over permanently!' at that moment a taxi drew up beside us.

"Hello love, you need a taxi home?"

"No money for a taxi sorry but if you take me home I'll make it worth your while!"

"Hop in the back than love, I'll take you all the way if you let me go all the way after!"

'I've got money; there is a twenty in the little pouch in my handbag for emergencies.'

'Why pay for it when he'll take you home for free and give you a little fun into the bargain.'

Vicky was protesting but I laughed at her, 'Come off it, you know that just thinking about the taxi driver fucking you has got you all juiced up and the fact that he'll be fucking you right in front of your house, that really has got your inner juices flowing, you forget that I'm in here with you, what you feel, I feel and I love just how dirty you're thinking right now!'

5,339 Words.

Click isabella-30-uk@hotmail.co.uk if you would like to comment on this, or any other story by Isabella.