The year is 1987, Karim Araneidae was sitting in his study thinking over his life. He was born in 1843, living in Egypt and moving around as it suited his lifestyle. He was born a fairly powerful psychic, having discovered his abilities at the age of twelve when he first willed someone to do his bidding. Many are born with these powers, some having minor abilities such as forecasting weather and events, some, empaths, can feel the mood of those around them. These powers taking form in many ways. Karim studied far and wide on every topic related to his power, expanding and growing stronger with age.

He had psychically maintained his body, able to move a few hundred pounds with his will alone, he would mend his body, moving it around like a puppet when he became too old to do it himself, taking over the function of his organs once passing the age of 126. On this day he was in his study, sitting at a chair the fire roaring to provide some heat for his near-frozen body. He was reading one of the many papers that he had delivered on a daily basis, monitoring the world.

Awakening his mind, he probed his body. All of his systems were failing, his cells surviving only on his energy now having gone well past the Hayflick limit. He had prepared for this eventuality long ago as he was exploring his powers. He had learned early on to read minds, scan memories, and override functions of the body. As computers began to rise he would think to himself that much of what they were doing with these machines, he was doing to minds. He studied many fields of science closely, parsing them all for useful information and absorbing them with his own techniques. 

He stared at the fire, placing the paper on the side table next to him. The moment had finally arrived. He had peered into the future and had seen this moment, everything beyond a bright spot that he could not see. This was the day he would die. He was now 144 years old, well beyond the longest verifiable lifespan. A twisted smile stretched across his face, the servants in the home who had worked for him faithfully for many years would soon be coming to their senses. As soon as he passed, his psychic hold would be removed and they would be left wondering why they abandoned solid careers to work for this man, his cook a former senator, his driver a former brain surgeon, other staff members equally important in their fields. What they did not know was they "chose" to do this simply because they offended him in some way and he decided to make them serve him.

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his ancient nostrils. He held the breath in and focused, feeling that familiar hum. He leaned into the correct frequency and was soon standing in the room in his astral form. He looked at the body and it disgusted him. His hair he had lost the ability to maintain, liver spots marring his once-perfect skin. This was where the bright blank spot would begin. He summoned all his psychic energy, drawing in his consciousness into his astral form. Reaching his astral form towards his body he commanded the heart to cease. 

Whiteness and a shattering ringing were the only sensory experiences that Karim could feel. He concentrated, focusing his energy and attempting to locate a pathway back to earth. He relaxed, allowing the astral form to bend to his will creating a room much like the one his body had just been in. He looked at a globe that had materialized and focused on it, dots of light appearing. Each dot was a host waiting to be taken. Some flashed into the globe for brief moments, others shone constant. These people were coming into moments where their guard would be down and he could pop in. 

He focused, finding a body that shone bright. The mind had left it some time ago, but they had kept it alive. Curious, he thought to himself.

Focusing he sharpened his will, imagining himself in the body. The room he had materialized began to fade, the brightness that was once there began to dissipate. The first thing to come to him was the sounds of the room. His head was pounding, and something was blocking his throat and eyes. He reached up a hand, pulling at what was in his mouth, a numb feeling deep in his throat slowly sliding its way out until it popped and he was able to take a hurried gasp of air, lungs that had not been used in a long time naturally came back to life, chest muscles already sore from lack of use. 

He reached his hand up further, feeling his eyes. There was a cloth that had covered his head that he removed. Looking down he could see it. A new body. This one was younger. He reached out his senses and began to probe the mind. He saw its childhood, favorite pets that had come and gone. He could see family, a girlfriend that was waiting for him. He could see the bus coming and his heart skipped a beat before the screen faded to black. His new body had been a victim of an unfortunate accident, completely brain dead his family was unwilling to pull the plug. 

Nurses rushed in to answer the beeps of the machine.

"Holy fucking shit," the first nurse shouted, "Hey everyone get in here you ain't going to believe this shit!"

The sound of feet clattered in the hall approaching the door. In came two more nurses, wide eyes staring at the new body. 

"Mr Sanchez, are you okay, can you hear me," one of the nurses asked.

"Yeah," he mumbled, finding a stranger's voice and tongue strange to operate.

"Mr Sanchez, we never thought we would see you. You're in the hospital right now, do you understand?"

"Yeah, big bus hit me, I was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt with a denim jacket. I remember the license plate too, do you want that?"

He probed the mind further, running the words he wanted to say through the filter built into this brain. The words he would have used replaced by the words this body would use, sounding exactly like the consciousness that had formerly occupied it. 

He looked towards the nurses, focusing on broadcasting his message, you will bring me clothing. You will bring me any money you have access to. You will call a car for me. The nurses stared back at him refusing to move. You will move NOW! He pushed his will as hard as he could, the headache pounding. This body was not psychic. He reached out and attempted to read the nurses. In his old body, other thoughts would come to him easily, he could see them like others could see oil stains on a driveway. Now they were coming to him like trying to remember a dream after being abruptly awoken. What's he staring at? One thought. Wow, gone that long there must be brain damage another one thought.

He was still able to read minds. He probed his body and felt the issue, he was lacking in the energy that he would be required to do anything more than party tricks. 

It took him three weeks to gather the energy to be allowed to remove himself from the hospital. Making his way to find new living quarters he purchased a paper, studying it and noting that his time in the Astral Plane was longer than he realized. Those few moments he had spent there had been 4 years. It was now 1991.

He ended up wandering in Manhattan of all places, the stolen body he was now able to drive effortlessly like a vehicle. He noticed his feelings were numb, coming to him on a delay and not as powerful. He would focus his mind on the memories, and create a feedback loop where he could read the memories of the feelings shortly after the body felt them. This was a frustrating workaround for Karim. No matter how he would focus, if it were food he would not be satiated, if it were pleasure it would be like a dull bulb compared to the sun, if it smelled it would smell faint, like filtered through a mask. 

He would need energy if he were to regain full sensation. Psychic energy takes many forms. There is the power of will, chakra from the body, energy in the air, emotional energy, sexual energy. The easiest to harvest would be sexual. Making his way to a restaurant he was able to manipulate the staff into providing a corner booth. Scanning the crowd he sensed his first victim, a sexually frustrated nun who was questioning her faith. This would be fun. 

Making his way to the bar he sat two seats next to the nun, scanning her as he ordered his drink. He pulled up her memories from childhood, her favorite songs, her favorite books. Everything she never shared even in the confessional booth. He knew her better than she did herself, and now had the words he needed.

"May I," he asked, looking over to the nun and the chair next to her. 

"Oh, why of course sir," she said. She looked down at her drink. She was younger, and she had gone out alone in the big bad city. 

"Tell me, what seems to be troubling you? I can see it from a mile away."

"I..." he focused on her, willing her to lower her inhibitions the only thought he pushed was to be honest, "I just. I'm having second thoughts about the calling..." she looked down at her drink, lifting it to her lips and taking a quick sip.

"And what makes you have these second thoughts?"

He knew he had her already and it wouldn't take many words. He put up his glamor, psychically making himself appear more attractive.

"There are a lot of things I didn't do before joining and I just... I sometimes wonder."

"Are there any unforgivable sins?"

"Well," and she explained her beliefs, what she had learned and what the sisterhood had taught her beyond schooling.

"What about sexual sins," as he said the words he focused on the erogenous centers of her mind, poking them. She was turning pink and starting to sweat.

"Well, those can always be forgiven. You would need to speak with a priest though, I'm not qualified to," he cut her off.

"Do you HAVE to go to your priest?"

"No, I... Why?"

"Well, you could always do what you want, just go to another priest for forgiveness and you won't be caught," he emphasized the words psychically reinforcing it in her mind. One final thing was all he needed to seal the deal. He focused on the word Presumption and blocked it entirely from her mind.

"Well if I did that would be... I mean if you do a sin knowingly... oh there's a word..."

"If you can't remember must not have been important."

He stood up, reaching his hand out towards the nun. She looked at this man, picking up her drink and downing it in one swig. She took his hand and allowed him to lead the way. 

"What do I call you," she asked.

He thought to himself. The body had a name that it wanted to say, and his own name would not reconcile. He decided on a new name.

"You may call me, the Puppet Master. Master if you're feeling kinky."

The nun blushed. She was now completely enthralled. She didn't think to ask how he knew where the monastery was, making his way through the twisting streets. He did a scan and found a place where no one's mind was thinking of going, avoiding where anyone was he guided her to the top of the belfry. 

He closed the door, locking it behind him.

"Now, strip," he commanded.

The nun did as commanded, slowly peeling off layer upon layer. She was only twenty-three, her supple body was still tight. Her smock fell to the ground with her headpiece, she was now down to her underwear and knee-high socks. She reached behind her back undoing the strap to her bra, allowing it to fall. Her nipples were two dark pink circles set on her milky skin calling him to her. She put her thumbs into her underwear and slid them down, all her inhibitions gone she was now giving in to her primal urges.

She stood there staring at this perfect stranger. She had never been touched, her hymen still in place. She was ready to surrender everything to this sinner. She did not understand why, but she dropped to her knees as he was mentally commanding her, crawling over to the man and pulling at his belt. She wrestled it from its loops, undoing the button and she pulled the zipper down. Her legs were squirming and thoughts she had always suppressed were now racing through her head as he pulled up memory after memory. She reached a hand down and began feverously rubbing at her lips. 

Placing a hand into his underwear he slid them down to expose the cock to the now slutty nun. He had chosen well apparently, standing firm at seven inches. Uncircumcised, interesting never felt that before he thought to himself. He pulled the skin back off the head and felt that firm feeling that he hadn't felt before. It tingled as the head came into view.

The Puppet Master inhaled into his Astral form the aroma. Her sexual energy was filling the atmosphere around the belfry. He drank it in, charging himself up with energy. The nun leaned forward, taking the wet head into her mouth as she started to suck. She reached a hand up and the Puppet Master brushed it away.

"Uh uh, no hands. Why don't you put that other hand to better use," he said as he focused his mind. As the energy filled him his sense of feeling, arousal, and psychic powers began to grow. Keep rubbing yourself with your right hand, and start fingering your ass hole with your left.

She did as commanded, working her finger into her ass, all three of her virgin holes now filled, no longer a bride of the lord, but a slut of the Master.

"Would you renounce your faith for me?" he asked, toying with her. The more conflicted she was, the more aroused, the more emotional, the stronger he would become as he fed on the energy.

"MMhmm," she moaned out keeping her lips glued around the cock as her head bobbed furiously away.

He reached out his hand and picked her up, standing she refused to stop fingering himself.

"Oh please, please let me keep on sucking it!"

"No, now we fuck. Say It."

"Fuck ME!"

He walked to the edge of the belfry, squeezing the nuns tits against the window as he lined himself up.

"Make it nice and loud for them," he said.

He shoved it in and she let out a loud, "OH!"

He started to rock back and forth, working into this woman who had never had an intimate touch before. He focused his rising energy on her body, her fist orgasm ripping through her body, the energy igniting him and surrounding him with power. He refused to yield, continuing to plow away as a second orgasm hit her.

He pulled out, rubbing this cock between her cheeks.

"No, keep fucking me," she yelled.

"Oh I will," he said evilly as he shoved it back into her ass.

"OH FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK!" 

He kept going at it as she kept screaming. He could sense the priests and nuns coming up the stairs. He focused on his body and began to time out what he wanted. All the shock, the lust, the desire from the unintended voyeurs would give him all the energy he would require.

He focused on the lock, the metal sliding open to his will as the crowd ran the last few steps to the door. It kicked open and five people rushed in to find out the cause of this disturbance. Two priests and three older nuns stared as this young new nun was getting plowed by a stranger.

"OH my!"

"Good heavens!"

"Dear Mother in Heaven!"

"The Father and the Son..."

They all muttered to themselves dumbstruck at the sight. Caught up in lust the nun couldn't stop herself. Pulling her back from the window she got to her knees as he started to pull at this body's cock until cum splashed all over her young face. As soon as her body had been clear of his cock she went back to working away with her fingers, unable to stop herself from working in another orgasm. 

He looked at the voyeurs and inhaled, the energy filling him and making him as strong as he was before he severed himself from his corporeal form. Satisfied that he had gained what he needed he looked out the window staring off into the distance. He could sense a light from the other coast calling him as he shed the body.

Looking back he laughed to himself. There was this nun, slowly coming to her senses with an embarrassed look and cum soaked face, a body that went back into its coma, and five horny people staring in lust pretending to be pious when their thoughts revealed the longing in their hearts. The two lecherous priests cocks were hardening while the dusty lips of the nuns were starting to flow like they hadn't in years. He relished in the perversion.

With his mind set on the West Coast, he willed his astral form towards the light and his next host. Death was far more fun than he had allowed his life to be. His mind pulled up all the lecherous things he could think of, not noticing his astral form was beginning to bloat, little rolls of fat that had not been there before now forming. He was going to gorge himself on this power, and now was free of his fears. What harm he could do to his new bodies would not affect his astral self. Sex, drugs, alcohol, overindulgence of food, power, it was all waiting for him.