A new invention lets a man possess the body of his wife and neighbors, and makes them think that everything he does while inside them is their decision in Head Games 1.

Tim is a failed inventor, failed entrepreneur and he’s about to have a failed marriage. His wife, Kelly, is growing tired of him wasting time on inventions that never pan out while she faces the drudgery of a boring office job each day. To make matters worse, their bedroom life is lackluster. Is it any wonder that Tim’s thoughts have begun to wander to his stunning Latina neighbor?

And then Tim finds that he’s accidentally invented something amazing.

It doesn’t look impressive. Just a grey beanie strung with wires and filaments to turn it into a brain scanner. Tim thinks it will just read his mind but it turns out to do so much more.

When wearing it, Tim discovers that he can beam his consciousness into any person nearby and possess their body. On accident, Tim ends up inside his neighbor, the husband of the stunning Latina that Tim has been fantasizing about. When she walks through the door, Tim can’t resist the opportunity to live out his fantasy, even if he has to use someone else’s body to do it.

When Tim hops out, he discovers his neighbor doesn’t suspect he’s been possessed. In fact, his neighbor has changed. Taking on Tim’s actions as his own.

Now Tim’s no longer interested in changing the world…just the people around him.

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Tim

Even with the window open, the spare bedroom I use as my lab is filled with acrid smell of solder and burnt hair. We’re seven floors up so I think the breeze will clear out the room soon enough. If we lived in a house, I’d no doubt have taken up the entire garage with my electronics and tools and work table. As it is, I’ve had to carefully organize the space in our apartment, shuffling computers and other devices in and out of closets here and the hallway.

My wife, Kelly, hates the clutter but tolerates it for me. One day, one of my inventions is bound to pay off. I believe in me but my wife, Kelly, is getting a little impatient. I can’t really blame her. She’s the one with the steady but boring office job bringing home the money while I spend my days “following my dreams” toiling on groundbreaking inventions. I haven’t reached the groundbreaking stage yet but I’m hopeful it will happen soon before Kelly loses her last scraps of patience.

I’m in the middle of threading another fine metal filament through the grey beanie in my lap when my phone dings with a text. It’s from Kelly reminding me that I promised we’d go out for dinner tonight for a long overdue date night. Not quite nagging, but not not nagging, either. I text her back, assuring her I’m on it.

When I set the phone down I realize how much my body aches from bending over my work for so long. I stand and stretch, cracking my back nicely. I take a deep breath to relax. Something stinks. Raising my arm to sniff myself I realize it’s me. There are deep pit stains on my thin grey tee shirt. I didn’t shave this morning. Did I brush my teeth?

Kelly will be home in an hour. I haven’t been outside all day and could use some fresh air before she gets here. My hand on the doorknob I consider changing or showering or at least putting on deodorant but then I figure…who am I trying to impress?

The answer comes walking out of the elevator as I’m standing in front of it. Mira. One of my newlywed neighbors in the apartment next to mine. A haughty Latina with long black hair, fiery dark eyes and gorgeous bronzed skin. Her body is tight but curvy in all the right places. Bouncy breasts. Bubble butt. Legs for days.

Mira is tapping with both thumbs on her phone when the elevator doors open. She looks up and sees me, her lips curling up in a forced polite smile. We’ve talked a few times, mostly when we’re stuck in the elevator together. She always seems a little aloof. Almost disdainful of having to talk to me, like she’d rather be anywhere else. All my jokes are met with silence or, even worse, a slight sigh.

Why does being scorned by her make her seem that much hotter?

I step aside to let Mira out and she brushes past me, her little nose wrinkling in disgust as she smells me. I smile politely but she deliberately ignores me. Glancing after her as she walks down the hall, my eyes skim across her tight jeans form-fitted to that incredible ass and those long, lean legs. Mira flaunts what she has, unlike my wife, who seems ashamed of her body. Maybe that’s the big attraction. That confidence. The elevator almost shuts without me in it but I shoot out my hand to stop the doors and step inside.

I walk through the lobby and outside. There’s a small stretch of manicured lawn in front of our building and I stand and stretch in the tiny patch of grass, enjoying the cool breeze playing over my body. It brings with it the sounds of the afternoon traffic a few streets away. As I’m doing some stretched, Mira’s husband comes up the pathway.

His name is Grant. He’s a burly, thick-necked lug of a man. A construction worker who seems to be mostly muscle. Not much of a conversationalist but Mira must see something in him. His white shirt and fluorescent vest are streaked with dirt and stretched taut across his impressive chest, leaving his powerful arms bare. He looks like he could crush me in one hand.

“Hi,” I nod politely.

He grunts and nods back without stopping. After a few minutes I turn and go back in, pausing only to collect the mail, which is mostly junk these days. Then back up the lift and to my apartment. Checking the time, I see I can squeeze in some more work on my project before I have to get ready for my date night with my wife.

I return to the spare room and sit at my workbench, retrieving the grey beanie I’m currently working on. I’ve heavily modified it, stuffing it with hundreds of thin filaments so it has the same effect as a diode on the head and allows me to scan brain waves. The circuits are integrated into the beanie with a wireless antennae to send the data to my computer, which will interpret it and spit out the user’s thoughts, allowing direct brain interface of everyday objects without the need for invasive surgery. Hopefully.

I’m bent over at my work for about thirty minutes before the noise from next door starts up through the thin walls. First the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of the head of the bed knocking gently against our shared wall. Then, faintly, Mira’s cries of “Aye, papi!” This is followed by her orgasmic cries rising in pitch until she reaches the crest and her voice breaks in ecstasy. A pause and then Grant’s groans. Then both of them together as the tap-tap-tapping comes quicker until it ends with another of Mira’s long moans.

I’m ashamed to admit how much listening to them turns me on. Well, listening to her, anyway.

There’s a knock on the door behind me.

“Come in,” I call out, as I set the tweezers down on the scarred secondhand table I use as my workbench.

I swivel my chair around as my wife, Kelly, opens the door. She wrinkles her cute nose at the smell and sticks out her tongue in disgust.

“Ugh, it stinks in here.” “Nice to see you, too, honey,” I joke.

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