rylem33

[rylem33]

Prove It

“He’s going to propose.”

I swear my heart just about exploded. My hands flew to my mouth, and I felt my whole face light up. “Oh my god! Bri—seriously?”

She nodded, hands trembling just a little as she clutched the edge of the counter. “He told my sister. She slipped up and… he already bought the ring.”

I practically bounced in place. “Bri!” I rounded the counter and wrapped her in the biggest hug I could manage. “This is amazing. I knew he was going to ask you! I knew it!”

I felt her hesitate in my arms. She hugged me back… but weakly. Something wasn’t right.

I leaned back, holding her at arm’s length. “Wait… why aren’t you smiling right now? This is, like… everything you’ve wanted.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I just… I need to be sure.”

I blinked. “Be sure of what?”

She dropped her gaze. “That he won’t hurt me. That he’s really… faithful.”

I stared at her, my stomach dropping just a little. “Bri… come on. It’s Jason. You know he’s not like the others.”

Her voice got smaller. “I think I know. But… what if I’m wrong?”

I let out a breath, trying not to sound frustrated. “Bri, you’ve been with him for two years. He worships you. He treats you like a damn queen.”

Oh my god, Bri. Not this again…why can’t she just believe in him?

She bit her lip. “I know…I think…but I just need to prove it.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a tiny violet bottle, shoving it toward me.

“Callie gave this to me. She said it works. Makes you someone else. That’s what she told me.”

I stared at the bottle. Glittery liquid swirled inside, thick and almost glowing.

“No. No, Bri. You can’t be serious.”

“Please,” she whispered. “I need to see. I need to know. You show up looking like someone else. You can flirt with him, tempt him. He’ll never know it’s you. If he passes, I’ll never question it again.”

This is a terrible idea.  This is insane. 

I should have said no.

Instead… I nodded.

--------------------------------------

I sat in my car outside Jason’s gym, the bottle in my hand. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I might throw up.

Just go home. Call Bri. Tell her this is fucking stupid. She’ll listen. She has to.

I glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes until he clocked out.

I turned the bottle over in my fingers for the hundredth time. Bri hadn’t said how long it would take to work. I didn’t even know if it would work.

My thumb hovered over the cap.

One afternoon. Prove her wrong. Show her he’s loyal. Then this whole nightmare’s over.

I popped the cap before I could stop myself and tipped it back, swallowing the cool, syrupy liquid in one shot.

The taste hit first. I gagged, coughing into my elbow.

God, that was disgusting.

I tossed the empty bottle onto the passenger seat, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

What the hell did I just do? Why did I do that? I don’t even know what was in that bottle and I just drank it.  What if I just poisoned myself?

Then something hit me from within.

Oh fuck…

The heat started low, curling up my spine, pulsing in thick, rolling waves. I gasped, clutching the steering wheel as my body arched into the sensation.

Oh… oh my god…it felt really good.

My skin prickled all over, like tiny sparks racing under the surface. My back pressed into the seat as a low, needy whimper slipped past my lips.

I squirmed, shifting in place, but my thighs—fuck—they were thicker. My ass pushed wider into the seat, my hips flaring out, stretching my leggings to the limit.

My chest swelled, tight and aching, nipples straining against the cups of my bra as they expanded, round and obscene. The straps dug into my shoulders until—snap—they gave out completely. 

What the hell is happening…?

I watched in shock as my clothes literally started to change. The fabric shimmered, stretched, tightened. My hoodie shrank, sleeves pulling back, neckline dipping dangerously low. The soft cotton thinned into silky, cream-colored fabric, wrapping tight around my chest, lacing across my cleavage with delicate strings barely holding me in place.

Oh god…

The leggings peeled away, dissolving into thin air like mist, until all that remained was a tiny matching miniskirt that I definitely wasn’t wearing a second ago. It pulled across my hips, snug against skin that now looked tanned and glowing.

My sneakers shimmered, twisting into dainty white heels that lifted me up just enough to make my ass pop even more.

I swallowed, watching my reflection.

Glossy, plump lips. Dark, dramatic lashes. Eyeliner sharp enough to kill. My hair was long, sleek, and perfect. Every inch of me looked fake, plastic… like some over-the-top influencer or a pornstar mid-selfie.

I couldn’t stop staring.

I bit my lip, running my nails down my chest, tugging gently at the thin straps barely covering me. A soft, breathy moan slipped out before I could stop it.

Holy fuck…

I stuck my tongue out, watching the way my lips parted.

I looked like sin.

And somehow… I didn’t hate it.

--------------------------------------------

God… what did I just do to myself?

I couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop touching. Every curve felt so… soft. So sensitive. My skin hummed. I shifted again, biting back a shaky breath as the friction of the silky fabric dragged over my nipples. It was maddening.

I ran my hands down my waist, over my hips, my thighs… fuck. I didn’t just look like a pornstar, but I felt like one.

I glanced at the clock again, heart hammering.

Okay. Enough stalling. Just go in. Do the stupid test. Then it’s over.

I grabbed the door handle, hesitating for half a second.

I don’t even know how long this will last…

With a deep breath, I shoved the door open and stepped out.

Every step toward the building made my body sway. It was like my hips had a mind of their own. It wasn’t on purpose… but god, it looked like it was.

I tugged the little top tighter across my chest, not that it helped much. My cleavage bounced with every step, drawing more eyes towards me.

Two guys in the parking lot actually stopped walking to stare.

One of them whistled under his breath.

I felt my cheeks flush hot, but I didn’t stop. My heels clicked on the concrete, my body strutting like it had done this a thousand times before.

Jesus… this isn’t me. What the hell is wrong with me?

But another voice whispered in the back of my head, soft and sweet.

“You’re not Taylor anymore. Let them look.“

I bit my lip and pushed open the gym door.

Heads turned. Guys paused mid-rep. Even a few women gave me that tight little glare girls give when they know they’ve been outdone.

God, this is unreal…

I spotted Jason toward the back by the weight racks, towel slung over his shoulder, bending to adjust the plates on the bar.

“Look at him,” the voice purred in my head, syrupy sweet.  “He’s already hard to resist, isn’t he? Imagine how easy it’ll be to make him forget all about her.”

I swallowed hard, palms already sweaty. No. He’s going to pass. He’s going to shut me down. He’s not that guy.

“But wouldn’t it feel so good to watch him fail?”

I froze mid-step, shaking my head slightly.

No. Just… test him. That’s it.

“Test him?” The voice giggled, light and taunting. “Please. You already want him to fail. You just don’t want to admit it yet.”

I forced myself to keep walking. When I reached him, I leaned casually against the weight machine beside him, making sure my chest popped just enough. I let out a breathy little sigh, drawing his attention.

He looked up. Eyes wide for half a second before he covered it with a polite smile.

“Uh… hey there. Can I… help you?”

Fuck… he doesn’t recognize me at all.

“Of course he doesn’t,” the voice teased. “You’re not some plain little best friend anymore. You’re a fucking fantasy.”

I bit my lip, stepping closer, letting my hips roll with every step.

“I sure hope so,” I whispered.

Jason cleared his throat, visibly stiffening, trying to stand his ground. “Uh… sorry. I have a girlfriend.”

I smiled wider. “Oh? What’s her name?”

“Bri,” he answered without hesitation.

I felt my body hum with excitement.

“Say something filthy. Make him think about it.”

No… just… stick to the plan…

“Come on, baby. You’re already halfway there.”

I leaned in closer, letting my fingers trail just barely across his forearm. “She doesn’t have to know…”

Jason took a step back, but his eyes dropped right to my chest. He caught himself too late.

Shit. He looked…

“He wants you. Let him have you.”

God, my body felt alive. Every inch of me was tingling.

He’s about to stop this. He’s about to do the right thing…

“Make sure he doesn’t.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed one step closer, pressing my chest against his arm.

“No one ever has to know,” I whispered again, voice dripping with something that didn’t even feel like me anymore.

Jason’s mouth opened slightly, a flicker of resistance behind his eyes. “I’d know,” he said, voice rough. “Even if no one else did… I’d have to live with it.”

I smirked.

“Damn right you would.”

“Huh?” he questioned.

I leaned in closer, my lips just shy of brushing his ear. “You’d remember every dirty thing I did to you… with you.” My fingers slid down his bicep, nails dragging lightly. “You could close your eyes next to her and replay it over and over.”

I leaned back just enough to meet his eyes again. My smile was all temptation.

“And I promise, baby… I’d make it so worth remembering.”

His silence said everything.

“Mmm… there it is,” the voice purred inside me. “He’s breaking. Just like you want him to.”

My hand drifted lower, fingertips brushing his waistband.

“Just let me play for a minute,” I teased. “After that, you’ll ache for it.”

God, what am I doing…?

“You’re giving him what he wants,” the voice cooed.  “And what you want too. So stop pretending.”

I pulled away slowly, dragging one perfectly manicured nail down the front of his shirt. Then I leaned in, lips brushing just barely against his ear.

“You’ve got five minutes,” I whispered. “Meet me outside… or you’ll never see me again.”

I didn’t wait for his answer. I turned, heels clicking across the gym floor, every step a deliberate tease. I could feel his stare on my ass, burning holes in the back of my shorts.

Please don’t come. Please stay with her. Do the right thing.

I slipped out the front door into the night, heart pounding, breath shaky. The air was cool, but my skin felt flushed.

I leaned against the side of my car, crossing one leg over the other. My top barely contained me. I didn’t fix it.

He won’t come. He wouldn’t.

“Wouldn’t he?” the voice inside me purred.

He loves Bri. He’ll remember that.

“And yet he hasn’t run the other way.”

One minute passed.

Then two.

I closed my eyes.

Let this be the end of it.

Three.

Four.

Come on, Jason… just don’t—

Then I heard the door open. I opened my eyes and saw him walking toward me. Something inside me snapped.

My thighs clenched, slick warmth pooling between them almost instantly.

Fuck.

My fingers curled against the car door. I shifted slightly, just enough for the strap of my top to slide off one shoulder.

I was already imagining him inside me.

“Good girl,” the voice whispered, breath hot in my mind.  “Bri doesn’t matter anymore. You do.”

I smiled as he got closer.

He made his choice. Now I’m going to ruin him for every girl after.

------------------------------------------

My skin was mine again. The curves were gone, the pout, the lashes, the voice. All of it had faded once the Elixir wore off.

But the memories… those I was able to keep.

Jason’s hands gripping my hips.  His mouth on my neck. The way he groaned my name, even if it wasn’t really mine.

I sat motionless, staring blankly across the room, legs crossed, hands folded in my lap. I could still feel the aftershocks pulsing through me like echoes. The way my body had cum for him. The way I’d begged for more.

And the worst part was I missed it.

I bit my lip, swallowing hard.

God, what did I do?

“Taylor?” Bri’s voice snapped me back.

I blinked, turning slowly. She was sitting beside me on the couch, eyes full of hope and gratitude.

“Sorry,” I said quickly. “Just… spaced out.”

She smiled, not thinking anything of it. “So? Did he pass?”

My mouth went dry. I forced a nod. 

“Yeah. He turned me down right away.”

Bri’s face lit up, pure joy blooming across her features.

“Oh thank God,” she whispered, grabbing my hands. “I knew it. I knew he was good.”

I smiled back, hollow and trembling. “Yeah. He’s… the real deal.”

She laughed, practically glowing. “I’m marrying him. I’m really marrying him.”

I nodded again, trying to ignore the ache low in my stomach. The lingering dampness between my thighs. The image of Jason’s face twisted in pleasure.

I fucked her fiance. The things we did…if she found out it would ruin everything.

And so, I lied to her…

“Hey, Bri. Do you have any more of that Elixir?”

She gave me a quizzical look.

“Why?” she asked.

“I didn’t get to enjoy myself last time, and I was hoping I’d get to have some fun. You know, let loose.”

“Oh,” she passed me a phone number. “That’s the guy Callie got it from.”

“You’re the best, Bri.”

“It’s the least I can do after what you just did for me,” Bri replied.

I pocketed the number. I was best friends with Bri. I knew her schedule inside and out. I had direct access to Jason whenever I wanted. And now I could get more Elixir.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

I was instantly addicted to it. I know that now. I’m going to fuck her fiance and once they’re married, I am going to fuck her husband.

Again and again and again.

[rylem33]

Thirst-trapped

Okay,” Gus called from the couch, “twenty minutes until our date night reservation. You better get club hot or I’m canceling.”

Danielle laughed from the bedroom. “As you wish.”

He grinned, kicking back. It was an old joke between them on date nights. Gus thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, though objectively she was more like a solid six. She’d throw on a snug dress, some mascara, maybe a little lipstick and they’d have a grand time together. She was his reliable and sweet Danielle.

But when the bedroom door creaked open twenty minutes later, he sat up straight.

She was wearing a matching set in a vibrant, glossy red-pink material. The top was very revealing, with a plunging neckline highlighting her firm round breasts, a cut-out midsection, and a small ring detail just below the bust. The matching skirt was short and asymmetrical, draped with a playful, ruffled hem that showed off her long legs.

Except Danielle didn’t look like that.

Gus blinked. “Holy shit.”

Danielle smiled like it was no big deal. “So? Club hot enough for you?”

“Uh. Babe… yeah. But—what the hell?”

“What?” She posed in the doorway, cocking one hip. “You said ‘club hot.’ I understood the assignment.”

“No, I mean….you look great but also…where did you get that outfit?”

She looked down at herself, confused. “This old thing?”

He stood. “Danielle.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you… get a boob job?”

“What?” She laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“You weren’t wearing that! You didn’t even have that! And your hair was four inches shorter like, an hour ago.”

She brushed her ponytail with her nails. “Okay, you’re acting weird. This is literally just me with good lighting and some dry shampoo.”

Gus walked around her slowly. “You don’t even look like you. Your lips—your face—Danielle, you look like some kind of…” he paused, grasping, “…plastic influencer version of yourself.”

Danielle tilted her head. “So you’re saying I look hot.”

He gestured toward her—her heels, her cleavage, her whole exaggerated, impossibly polished look. “You look like a damn Bratz doll.”

Danielle flinched. “Wow. Thanks a lot, Gus.”

He blinked. “What?”

She crossed her arms, suddenly self-conscious. “That’s such a mean thing to say. I’m trying to look nice for you, and you call me a plastic toy?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Dani. I just—” He sighed. “It’s like you’re getting… exaggerated. Your hair. Your makeup. Your proportions. I’m just trying to understand what’s happening.”

“Well, maybe don’t insult me next time,” she snapped. 

She looked down at herself again. “Okay, this top is kind of ridiculous…”

Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of her reflection.

“…but it’s cute. Like… it gives attitude.”

Her hands rose unconsciously, fingers flicking her hair into a higher arc. Her lips, freshly glossed without her realizing it, pouted a little more naturally now.

“I guess it is kinda Bratz-y,” she muttered, tilting her head. “But, like… not in a bad way.”

Gus watched her. “You’re doing it again.”

She didn’t answer. Her hand moved to adjust her top, pulling it down slightly to show just a bit more cleavage.

“Honestly,” she said after a pause, “those girls were kinda iconic. Like, unapologetic and bold? I could vibe with that.”

Gus stepped forward. “Danielle. You were offended a second ago.”

She looked at him, eyes slightly glazed. “Was I? I mean… whatever. You say shit sometimes.”

His jaw clenched. “You just said I insulted you.”

Danielle’s smile returned, slowly. “I mean, it’s kinda a compliment if you think about it. Bratz dolls were fashion. Like, they were that girl.”

He shook his head. “This isn’t right.”

She looked back at her phone, not hearing him. Or not caring. Her voice dropped half an octave and took on that high-gloss tone. “Might need to get a pic in this outfit before dinner. The vibe is just too good.”

Danielle raised the phone, tilted it slightly above her head, and angled her body. Click.

Then another. And another.

A smirk curled her lips as she shifted poses designed to exaggerate her hourglass figure.

Gus stepped closer. “Danielle, can we please talk?”

Click.

“Just give me a sec,” she murmured, distracted.

Click.

“You’re acting like some kind of phone-obsessed influencer.”

Danielle turned to look at him, primed to say something but then her phone screen lit up.

Buzz.

Buzz. Buzzbuzz.

She glanced down. Her eyes widened slightly.

“Wait, what…?”

New Like – @LeoThirstTrap followed youNew Comment – “Queen energy 🔥🔥”DM – “Collab soon? You’re killing it lately.”

She scrolled, her finger moving with unnatural familiarity.

More likes. More comments. Stories she didn’t remember posting.

“I—” she started, frowning. “Where did all these people come from?”

Gus stepped beside her. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Something is wrong.”

But she wasn’t listening. Not really.

“Omg I LIVE for this fit.”“Are you even real??”“Just found your page—bingeing your content rn 💕.”

Danielle tilted her head, mouth slightly open. “Oh my god. These are fans.”

“Yeah,” Gus said grimly. “Apparently.”

She gave a breathless laugh. “It’s like they know me. Like, they like me.”

“Who are all these people, Danielle? You didn’t even have social accounts an hour ago.”

She blinked slowly. “Are you sure? Because this feels… normal?”

Buzz.

New Message: “How do you keep your skin that perfect? Do a tutorial pleaseee.”

Her lips parted again, and for a moment, she looked unsure. “I mean… I do have that face mask reel from last week. Right?”

Gus stared. “Last week you hated social media. You’ve never posted anything before.”

“Are you sure? Because I have, like, a ton of posts and comments from the past few weeks. Maybe you’re misremembering.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, already turning slightly for better lighting.

Her voice had softened, almost dreamy. “God, I should really plan some new content. Like maybe a GRWM series or something.”

Buzz.

She glanced at her phone, a coy grin forming. “Aww.”

“What?” Gus asked cautiously.

She didn’t look up. “This guy just commented, ‘You’re literally perfect. Like, goddess-tier. I’d pay anything to see what’s under that skirt.’”

Buzz.

“‘Marry me. Or at least send feet pics.’” Her giggle was quick and breathy. “God, they’re so thirsty.”

Buzz. Buzzbuzz.

“‘That outfit’s illegal, right? Because I’m dying over here.’” She laughed again, scrolling with glossy nails. “‘Bet she tastes like pink starburst.’ Oh my god.”

Gus stared. “Jesus.”

Another wave of notifications hit. Dani’s eyes lit up.

“‘Need a private snap—name your price.’ Wow. That’s… actually kind of hot.”

Gus stepped closer. “You’re enjoying this?”

She finally looked at him—flushed, excited, eyes gleaming. “It’s kind of addictive? I mean, they’re obsessed. Like, full-on worship mode. It’s wild.”

“You’re reading that stuff out loud.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she said, distracted again as her phone vibrated. “‘Subscribing ASAP. Hope she shows more.’ Aww.”

Gus blinked. “Subscribe?”

Her smile was all lips now. “Guys always wanna subscribe. I’m starting to think I should charge them just to look at me.”

He frowned. “Danielle, stop.” His voice caught. “You’re acting like some kind of OnlyFans wannabe.”

Then her phone buzzed again and again and again. Like it was alive.

New Like – “That body was made for a paywall.”New Comment – “If she drops an OF link, I’m in. No hesitation.”New DM – “I’ll tip $200 for a personalized clip. You down?”

Dani blinked again. “Wait—what?”

She opened the app without thinking. Her thumb navigated straight to a familiar layout. It wasn’t Instagram. It was a hybrid—something between TikTok and OnlyFans.

At the top: Dani Luxe‘Aspiring Baddie | Fitness Babe | Daily Teases 💦’

She scrolled through short clips she didn’t remember filming—but they all looked and sounded exactly like her. Lip gloss shining. Crop tops barely hanging on. Coy captions like “Should I show more? 😘” and “Y’all aren’t ready for the next drop.”

“Gus…” she said, but she was still scrolling. “Why does this all look… real?”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he said. “But you’re changing, Dani. First you’re a thirst-trap, then an Instagram influencer, now you’re all over OnlyFans.”

She frowned. “That’s not—” She paused. One of the clips started autoplaying with her own voice saying, “Just wait until I get verified, bitches.” She didn’t even flinch hearing it. “—not a bad thing.”

He stared. “You don’t even realize it’s happening.”

She tilted her head. “I mean… wannabe? Everyone’s gotta start somewhere. Gotta build that hustle.”

“Dani—”

“No, like, for real,” she said, the words coming easier now, lips moving with glossy certainty. “If guys want to throw money at me for looking like this, why shouldn’t I get paid?”

“You’re acting like this is normal.”

She laughed. “It is normal, babe. It’s 2025. Monetized hotness is a career path.”

Buzz.

New Message: “You should do spicy customs. You’d blow up.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Spicy customs… oh my god, I totally should.”

She tapped the message with a practiced ease she hadn’t had five minutes ago.

“Gus?” she said, still half-smiling. “If I was an OnlyFans girl… would you subscribe?”

He just stared.

She giggled. “Didn’t think so. That’s okay. I’ve got like, five thousand who would.”

He opened his mouth to respond—but something slipped.

He tried to say we’re married. Tried to say you’re my wife. But the words stuck in his throat, vanishing before they reached air.

Dani’s phone buzzed again. She glanced down.

New High-Tier Subscriber: @JustGus – $1,200 Tip

A soft chime rang in her hand, like a cash register dinging behind her flawless smirk.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s you?”

Gus’s breath hitched. “What?”

She looked up at him, almost amused. “JustGus. You tipped me last week for a one-night in-person meet. Took you long enough to cash in, babe.”

“No,” he whispered. “That’s not… I didn’t…”

But even as he said it, memories blurred. The dinner reservation—the apartment—the relationship—they fuzzed at the edges. All he could clearly remember was the late-night moment when he’d hovered over the “VIP Experience” tab, hesitated, and finally entered his credit card info.

Dani tilted her head. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first simp to blow a paycheck just to smell my perfume.”

He stared at her, heart pounding. “Dani…”

She clicked her tongue. “Mmm, nope. No girlfriend vibes. You bought a night. That’s it.”

He looked down at himself. He wasn’t wearing the shirt he’d put on earlier. He was in a plain hoodie, the kind someone might wear to hide their nerves walking into a rented Airbnb.

Her smile sharpened. “You’ve got about, what—four hours left on the clock?”

His mouth opened, but no sound came.

Dani turned toward the mirror, running her fingers down the curve of her hip. “Better make the most of it.”

[rylem33]

Short Changed

“Alright, ready when you are,” Jason said, hands on his hips, standing in the middle of the empty rec room with his two best friends, Matt and Derrick. “You sure this spell isn’t going to like, blow us up or anything?”

Matt smirked, clutching the worn parchment they’d swiped from that occult shop at the edge of town. “Only one way to find out. Besides, it says the changes reflect what’s ‘most desired.’ We’ll all come out hot. Promise.”

Derrick laughed. “Speak for yourself, I’m already hot.”

Matt rolled his eyes and started chanting.

The words were a strange guttural sound, echoing through the room. The lights dimmed and a gust of warm wind spiraled around them, and all three guys doubled over in shock.

Jason clutched his chest, gasping. What the hell… is this… His voice caught in his throat as a higher pitched sound squeaked out of him. He watched as his hands slimmed, his nails stretching and curling into glossy talons.

A breathy moan broke from Matt’s throat. “Oh my god… oh my god,” he whimpered, grabbing at his shirt as two massive breasts bloomed beneath the fabric, nipples pressing visibly through it. His jeans slid down his hips as they flared, his waist cinching tight.

Derrick dropped to his knees, his eyes wide. “Fuck, this is intense.” He arched, hands grabbing his new hips as they pushed out in slow, sensuous pulses. His hair lengthened, spilling down his back in perfect waves.

When it ended, the room was quiet except for the soft, gasping breaths of three brand-new women.

Matt looked down at herself, her expression one of awe. “Damn, I’m stacked…”

She wasn’t lying. She was tall, long-legged, and dripping with curves. She looked like a model for an adult magazine. Her long blonde hair framed a flawless face.

Jason blinked in the mirror. She was a blonde bombshell with full, pouty lips. Her breasts weren’t as huge as Matt’s, but her body was lean and sculpted.

And Derrick…

Jason tried not to laugh.

She was hot, no question. Perky tits, a round bubble butt, and flawless tanned skin. But she was short. Barely five feet tall with shoes on.

“Seriously?” Derrick squeaked, voice sultry and small. “I’m the short one?!”

Matt smirked. “Guess someone likes their women petite, cute, and stacked.”

Jason couldn’t resist. “You’re adorable, Dee. I just wanna pick you up and put you on a shelf.”

“Shut up!” Derrick snapped, her tiny fists clenched. “I’m still hotter than you bitches.”

Matt strode up to her, hips swaying, and gave her a once-over. “Oh, no doubt. But you’re like a pocket-sized slut. Maybe we should call you ‘Fun Size’.”

“Fun Size?” Derrick groaned. “You two are the worst.”

Matt grinned. “Absolutely.”

Jason giggled. “No arguments here.”

Derrick crossed her arms under her chest, pouting. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Right back at you, short stack,” Matt said, wrapping her arm around Derrick’s shoulder.

Jason tossed her newly blonde hair over one shoulder. “So, ladies… we gonna stay in all night admiring ourselves or are we going out to make some poor boys lose their minds?”

Derrick smirked. “Hell yes. Let’s go break some hearts.”

And with that, three sizzling-hot women strutted out into the night, ready to ruin someone’s standards forever.

[rylem33]

The Glade

I’d definitely taken a wrong turn.

I kept telling myself I’d find the trail again. That I wasn’t really lost. But the trees had thickened, pressing close, and the sun barely made it through the canopy now.

And it was oddly silent. An all consuming kind of silence. All I could hear was the crunch of my boots and the sound of my own breathing getting sharper with each step.

Though I was on a path, nothing looked familiar. Every tree was another gnarled giant, another maze of twisting roots. I hadn’t seen a trail marker in over an hour. I hadn’t seen anything but trees.

Then the flowers started to fall.

They started as just a soft haze of little smudges of blue at the edges of my vision. But when I pushed through the brush, the ground dropped away into a shallow hollow, and they were everywhere.

As they fell, they blanketed the forest floor. I’ve never seen flowers like these before. They were wild in shape and no two were alike.  

And they had a thick, cloying scent. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it stuck in my throat. 

It was easy to get lost in this haze of white.

Focus. You’re still lost.

I kept moving, but my steps slowed. The flowers were thicker here. Every step I took filled the air with drifting petals. They clung to my clothes and caught in my hair.

I tried to retrace again, spinning slowly in place. But even with a clear path, I was disoriented. Every direction looked the same. Every tree twisted upward in the same pattern, their bark coated in that same mossy green. The flowers had blanketed everything.

I couldn’t even find my own footprints anymore.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Okay, don’t panic.”

But I was panicking.

My phone had one bar of battery and no signal. I pulled up the compass app and tried to walk straight. Five minutes later, I was back at the same twisted tree with the split trunk and a patch of blue petals bunched beneath it.

I screamed.

It echoed through the trees and was then swallowed up by the silence.

I crouched low, forcing myself to breathe, trying to focus on anything but the rising sense of dread clawing up my spine. The smell was stronger now. So sweet it felt rotten.

You have to get out.

I pressed forward, shoving past thick undergrowth and low branches. Something stung my cheek. I didn’t care. I stumbled through the flowers, wading through them like snowdrifts, ignoring the way they seemed to twist toward me, to follow me.

And then… light.

Thin at first, like a pinprick at the edge of a tunnel. I sprinted toward it, lungs burning, legs aching. 

The flowers thinned and the trees pulled apart.

Suddenly the woods opened into a clearing and I heard road noise. I saw signs of civilization.

I fell to my knees, gasping. My hands shook. My boots were soaked and streaked.

I was out.

--------------------------------------------

I couldn’t stop talking when I got home.

I burst through the door, still buzzing with leftover adrenaline, and found Nate at the kitchen counter munching on some chips.

“You’re back late,” he said.

“I got lost.”

“ You what?” he replied.

“I’m fine,” I rushed to add. “I mean, obviously. But yeah. I ended up way off-trail. Like, weirdly off. It was the strangest thing, Nate. The woods were… I don’t know. Not right. And there were these flowers. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“You’re shaking.”

I glanced down. My hands were trembling. “I think I’m just hyped up. You know, post-adrenaline crash.”

He walked over and pulled me into a hug. I melted into it for a second, grateful for something normal. But even in his arms, I couldn’t stay still.

“I’m starving,” I said, stepping back. “And not like, a granola bar hungry. I need actual food. Meat. And maybe three beers.”

We threw together something quick. I ate like I hadn’t eaten in days, licking the grease off my fingers. Nate watched me with a mix of amusement and concern.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging his plate away.

“I’m good,” I said quickly. “Great, actually. Just… still wired.”

I leaned back in my chair and stretched. My sports bra stuck to my skin with sweat. I could feel the heat rising off my body in waves. I saw his eyes drift to my chest. A thrill shot through me.

“Nate?”

“Yeah?”

I stood and walked over to him. “Come to bed with me.”

He gave me an uncertain look. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m so okay.” I bent down, lips brushing his ear. “And I really, really want you.”

We didn’t even make it to the bed. I pulled at his clothes in between taking mine off.  We bumped into the table and knocked over some small items. I didn’t care. I pulled him into a kiss and he carried me into the bedroom.

When we finally collapsed into bed, I curled into him, legs tangled around his. He tried for some foreplay but I brushed him off. I mounted him quickly and rode him fast and hard. He murmured something, but didn’t catch it. 

After I came, I quickly calmed. Still sweaty from the day and from the sex my mind started drifting.  I fell asleep quickly.

--------------------------------------------

I couldn’t get warm.

Which made no sense, because I was burning up.

I kicked the covers off again and stared at the ceiling, breath shallow, skin flushed. Everything felt overheated — my cheeks, my chest, even the insides of my thighs.

Beside me, Nate mumbled something and shifted in his sleep. His arm draped across my stomach, and I flinched at the touch. My skin felt alive. 

I gently peeled his arm off and slipped out from under it. He didn’t stir. His breathing stayed slow, steady.

I rolled onto my side, trying to focus on the sound of the ceiling fan. It was spinning fast, but the air felt thick. Heavy. Like I was breathing through syrup.

I pressed my hand against my stomach which was damp with sweat. My shirt clung to me.

Just a reaction to the stress, I told myself. You got lost, you panicked. Of course your body’s in shock. That’s all this is.

But it didn’t feel like shock.

I sat up and stripped off my shirt, flinging it to the floor. It helped, for maybe two seconds. Then the heat was back. Worse. Not just heat — awareness. I could feel everything. The air brushing against my thighs, the subtle stick of sweat behind my knees, the hum of blood just under my skin.

I pressed the heel of my hand between my eyes, trying to ground myself.

God, I needed something. A shower? A sedative? A fucking exorcism?

But that wasn’t it.

I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want food. My body didn’t want comfort.

It wanted…

No. I shook my head, shoving that thought away before it could finish forming. I was just overheated. Delirious. I’d breathe, cool off, and in the morning this would all be a weird memory.

I lay back down and pulled the sheet over me, careful not to wake him.

But even though I couldn’t stop squirming, Nate barely stirred.

--------------------------------------------

I woke to the feeling of my skin burning again — not with fever, but with need. A pull in my chest, my bones, my blood.

I knew what I had to do. I needed to go back.

I sat up in bed. The sheet slipped off my body, pooling at my waist.

Beside me, Nate stirred, groggy. “Babe…? You okay?”

I didn’t answer right away. I was staring down at my hands.

They weren’t the same.

My fingers were longer, the nails glassy and curved. My skin was pale, smooth, glowing faintly in the early light. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and caught my reflection in the mirror across the room.

My ears were pointed. My eyes shimmered green-gold, deep and endless like sun-dappled leaves. My hair spilled wild down my back.

“Nate…” I said, voice soft, distant.

He sat up, rubbing his face, blinking at me. “What the hell…?”

I turned toward him. “I’m not sick.”

“You’re—what happened to you?”

“I became,” I said simply. “The forest did something to me.”

His mouth opened. Closed again. I watched his eyes struggle to process what he was seeing.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he said. “You need a hospital—something. Jesus, your—your ears—”

“No,” I said. “No doctors. No hospitals.”

I stood. My bare feet hit the floor, and the wood felt cold, lifeless. This house, this room it felt sterile. Dead.

I didn’t belong here.

“I have to go,” I told him, already walking to the door.

“Go? Where?” His voice cracked. “What are you talking about?”

“The glade. The forest. They’re waiting for me.”

He stood and grabbed my arm. “Wait—what the fuck are you saying? You’re scaring me.”

I looked down at his hand. His touch felt distant now. Dull. Like pressure through a fog. I gently pulled free.

“I’m not yours anymore, Nate.”

He froze, like I’d hit him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though part of me wasn’t. “I’m one of them now. But I’m also me now.”

I stepped outside into the early morning air even as he called to me. The wind kissed my skin like a lover. I broke into a run, faster than I’d ever moved. The early morning dew didn’t chill me. 

I ran to the forest and the moment I stepped beneath its canopy, the air shifted. The scent hit me like a memory — thick, floral, intoxicating. I ran barefoot over moss and root, the wind laughing with me.

It was welcoming me back.

I quickly found the glade. It was so easy now that I knew what to see. 

The flowers burst in color, petals rising to greet me, brushing my legs, wrapping me in softness. The moment I entered, I felt the others. I heard them, their voices like bells, laughter like wind through leaves.

I turned and saw them.

Fey. My kin. My home.

I giggled and ran into their arms, into the wild.

And I never looked back.

[rylem33]

Finding the Words

Quinn clicked her lighter once, let it burn, then snapped it shut again. She wasn’t smoking, she just liked the sound and to watch the flame flicker.. It helped pass the time and calm her attitude. She hated most things, including being bored. 

Including lame ass frat boys that stepped into her peripheral.

She didn’t look, just said, “No.”

“Hey, at least let me say something first,” came Josh’s upbeat voice.

She sighed and finally looked over. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for idle conversation?”

Josh chuckled, undeterred. “Okay, point taken. Are you in the mood for a bet?”

“That’s worse.”

“One track,” he said, pulling out his phone. “You listen and let me know your honest opinion. I bet you’re going to like it.”

She folded her arms. “Wow, the confidence. What’s the song, some trendy pop nonsense?”

He stood and gave her a smug look. “No, it’s mine.”

That caught her a bit off guard.

“Wait, yours like… you made it?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” She teased. “Is it, like, your soul? Your ‘true expression’? Please tell me there’s a ukulele involved.”

“Just synths. Some vocal distortion. It’s kind of—”

“—‘hard to define,’” she cut in, smirking. “Let me guess—it’s ‘raw,’ ‘authentic,’ and ‘better with headphones’?”

Josh chuckled. “Exactly.”

“And you want me—of all people—to listen to your pet project and not rip it apart?”

He nodded. “If you can.”

She stared at him.

He met her gaze, steady. “I mean, you could just refuse. I won’t tell anyone how you were too scared to listen to my song. Probably.”

She clenched her jaw. “You think I’m afraid of your grade school magnum opus?”

“I think you’re too busy rebelling to know what you actually like anymore. And you’re probably afraid you might like it.”

Quinn clenched her jaw. She was trapped. If she backed out she was weak and scared. If not, she was doing what this lame ass told her.

She yanked the headphones from his hand, already sneering. “Fine. Let’s hear your little passion project. If I die from secondhand cringe, I want you to tell people I went out brave.”

Josh just smiled. “Of course, the bravest of souls.”

She put on the headphones, crossed her arms, and sat down on the curb.

Josh hit play.

· · ·

Three minutes passed and the song ended.

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

Quinn opened her mouth. Nothing came out at first.

Her brain was… blank. Not just the song—everything. She couldn’t remember a single second of the last few minutes. Nothing.

Shit. She couldn’t say that.

So she shrugged hard and casually tossed him the headphones. “Wow. Okay. Real bold move opening with that many… triangles.”

Josh blinked in confusion. “Triangles?”

“Yeah. You know. That pingy synth sound? It was like… being trapped inside a video game made for virgins.”

Josh chuckled. “Right. Got it. Too many triangles.”

He reached into his backpack and held out a small USB drive. “You should check out my other tracks. That one was just the intro.”

She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Seriously?”

He offered no explanation. Just kept holding it out, smiling.

She took it, fully intending to chuck it in the nearest trash can the second he turned around. Instead, she slid it into her hoodie pocket without thinking. 

Then, as she turned to walk off, she flipped him off over her shoulder. “Enjoy your delusions, Mozart.”

Josh gave a little salute, still grinning.

She stalked across the quad toward her home.

Somewhere unnoticed, in the back of her mind, an odd beat pulsed.

------------------------------------------------

Quinn kicked her door shut with her boot, the deadbolt catching with a satisfying clunk. She tossed her bag onto the floor, ripped off her hoodie, and flopped face-first onto the bed.

It was late. She should’ve gone to sleep. But her thoughts were wired. That loser Josh had actually gotten under her skin. That was the part that pissed her off. Him smirking like he’d won something.

She grunted into the pillow. “Ugh. Nerd.”

She reached for her vape and instead pulled out… the USB.

“Wait. What?”

She sat up, flipping it between her fingers. She threw this. Didn’t she? Right when he handed it to her. She never pocketed it.

At least… she didn’t think she had.

She stared at the little metal thing for another second. Then, with a huff, pushed herself off the bed and shuffled to her laptop.

“Whatever,” she muttered, jamming the drive into the port. “I’ll post this shit all over the socials and roast his ass for messing with me.”

She saw the first file in the folder.

“track01_the_initiation.mp3”

“What kind of lame title is that?” she mumbled. “It’s gonna be some weirdo art-school ambient garbage.”

Still, she clicked.

The music began quietly. Barely audible. A pulse, like a heartbeat beneath water. Then layers. Synths, soft and smooth. A voice curled in the mix.

She leaned forward, trying to understand the voice.

What is it saying?

. . . .

Her eyes blinked open.

She was on the floor. She was on her knees on the floor.

She gasped and jolted upright, scrambling away from the center of the room. Her legs were shaky. Her skin glistened like she’d been sweating.

“What the fuck…”

She looked at the clock.  Time had passed, but she didn’t remember any of it.  Again.

“Goddamn it,” she snapped, kicking the leg of her chair.

She never zoned out like that. Not unless she was blackout drunk. And even then, not like that.

And despite everything her hand was already reaching for her mouse.  

If only I try it one more time, I can hear what it ‘s saying….

---------------------------------------

It’s playing again. I can’t hear the words. There are words, I know there are. But they won’t come into focus.

They’re always just out of reach. My thighs are open.  My hand’s already there.  I don’t remember putting it there. But I can’t take it away. If I can only hear the words. Then I can stop reaching for it.

I’m panting. God, I’m panting. My fingers are soaked. The song keeps looping. I know it’s looping, but it feels different each time. I’m grinding into my own hand.

I’m still chasing the words.  I need to hear them.

My skin tingles with need. What are the words…..where are the words…I need the words…..

I scream when I finish.  My body quakes from the release.

I still want to hear the words.

I’ll do anything….anything… if he’ll just say them to me.

--------------------------------

It’s quiet. Still. My hands are resting on my lap, where they’re supposed to. My legs are aching from being in this position for so long. Despite this, I don’t shift. I don’t fidget. I wait.

Josh moves across the room.

I don’t look until he’s closer. I’ve learned not to anticipate. Anticipating isn’t the same as listening. And listening is… everything.

I lift my eyes to him. That’s allowed. My mouth parts just slightly. My chest tightens.  It’s the stillness right before something beautiful happens.

Please say something.

He doesn’t.

That’s okay. I can wait. I’m good at waiting now. It’s what I was trained to do. I remember that I used to be impatient. Sharp-tongued. Mean, even. It’s funny to think about. That girl… she was exhausting.

Josh takes one more step toward me and I stare up in anticipation.

Please. Please say something.

“Say hello, Quinn.”

Oh—oh god—

“Hi, Josh.” The words float out of my mouth before I know I’ve spoken them.  

He sounds so good. He always sounds good. But when he talks to me? When he tells me what to do? It’s like… like a warm hand inside my chest. Pulling. Pressing. Filling. I feel full. I feel soft. I feel—

“Good girl.”

My thighs squeeze together.

Yesyesyesyes

I nearly gasp but catch it in my throat. I shouldn’t make noise unless he tells me to. I know that. I remember learning that.

When he praises me… it’s like I’m being fed. Like I didn’t know how hungry I was until that moment.

Josh moves behind me. I feel his fingers glide down the curve of my hair and onto my shoulder. I want him to continue. I want to feel his hand upon my breast. Between my legs.

“You used to hate me.”

Did I?

I blink.

I try to remember the hatred, the scoffing, the eye-rolls. But they come like echoes underwater. 

That doesn’t feel real. Not anymore.

He speaks again, slow and patient.

“You used to be angry. Cold. Disrespectful.”

Maybe. I guess. I don’t know anymore. All I know is this.

He leans closer, his voice right beside my ear.

“You used to think you couldn’t be tamed.”

I exhale.

My eyes flutter.

But I was wrong.

I smile.

I won’t speak again.

Not until he tells me to.

[rylem33]

Triggered

It was brunch with his family, and Olivia looked like she was heading to a party.

The white top clung to her chest, dipping deep enough to make eye contact a challenge. The pale green skirt sat high on her waist and flared over her hips, the hem floating just above her thighs. She was adjusting one of her earrings, her long blonde hair curling softly around her shoulders.

She seemed completely unaware of the scene she might cause.

Or maybe… she was aware.

Evan leaned against the doorway, watching her with a smile. She didn’t used to dress like this, but latel things had been different. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

“You look really sexy right now,” he said.

Her hand froze halfway to her hair. She blinked once, slowly, then looked up at him over her shoulder. Her expression softened into something almost bashful.

“Yeah?” she asked, like she needed to hear it again.

“I mean… yeah. You just… wow.” He let out a low chuckle, stepping closer. “That top is… definitely going to be a conversation piece.”

She glanced down, adjusting the neckline but not covering anything. Her fingers smoothed the fabric as if admiring it. “You think it’s too much?” she asked.

Evan responded. “It’s brunch. With my mom.”

Olivia looked at herself in the mirror again. She tugged the skirt just slightly lower. Then shrugged. “I just wanted to feel nice,” she said simply. “Is that okay?”

God, the way she said that.

“Of course it is,” he murmured, stepping behind her to press a light kiss to her shoulder. “You look incredible.”

She smiled as she turned toward him, slowly reaching for her purse. The hem of her skirt rode higher again as she stood, and she didn’t fix it.

Evan followed her to the door, watching the sway in her hips.

She didn’t used to walk like that, either.

------------------------------------------

The balcony outside the bar was narrow and half-lit, tucked between brick walls and buzzing streetlight. Olivia leaned against the railing, breathing in the cool night air, getting a brief respite from the loud music of the bar..

Her halter top clung to her. She’d never worn anything like it before, but she just felt like it was the right thing to wear for a girl’s night out.

She’d looked at herself in the mirror earlier, told herself it was just for fun. Just something different. But even then, something about the outfit had made her feel tingly. 

Now, standing out here, she could feel every inch of exposed skin.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice said behind her, casual but deliberate. “But damn, you are something else.”

Olivia felt a shiver run through her.

She turned before she could think about it, lips already curved into a polite smile. He was older, maybe late twenties. He seemed harmless enough, but his eyes leered her body without apology.

Normally, that would’ve made her retreat. But tonight, something inside her thought differently.

Her shoulders rolled back, slightly lifting her chest. 

“Oh,” she said, flattered. “Thanks.”

The man stepped a little closer. “You here with anyone?”

She was with her friends, but she knew what he meant. Evan was at home, probably gaming online. She parted her lips to say yes, but her throat felt suddenly dry. 

Her heart was beating so fast. Evan wasn’t here and a little bit of flirting wasn’t a bad thing.

“Just with friends,” she said instead, softly.

The man’s smile grew. “Well, I’ve got to say, that outfit’s doing work. I’d like to bury my face in those tits.”

That should’ve pissed her off. It really should have, but it didn’t.

Instead, something inside her whispered: It’s okay to be sexy.

Her skin prickled. Her nipples stiffened against the thin lace. She laughed a soft giggle and looked away, smiling.

She didn’t say anything else. Just turned back to the street and let the air cool her down, bit by bit. Her body still humming. Her mind still trying to figure out what the hell that was.

---------------------------------------------

“You look crazy hot today.”

That’s all Evan had said.

He’d just casually tossed the words at her while she passed behind him in leggings and a fitted top. It was a lazy compliment, but the second the words hit her—crazy hot—her body lit up.

She didn’t even answer. She just froze in place, mid-step because she felt the heat hit.

Her thighs clenched. Her chest tightened. Her skin buzzed from the inside out. And before she even knew what she was doing, she was moving, half-walking, half-stumbling down the hall to the bedroom, heart pounding.

She pulled the door closed behind her and moments later her hands were under her shirt.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, dragging the fabric up over her chest. Her fingers trembled as they pushed past the cotton, yanking it halfway up her ribs to expose the black lace bra. It was sexier than anything she usually wore but that was something she thought a lot lately.

Her hand cupped one breast, squeezing gently. Her body jerked in response. The contact lit her nerves like fire.

She stiffled a moan…or at least she thought she did.  Maybe it escaped.

Why does this feel so good?

Her fingers slid along the edge of the bra, grazing skin. Her nipples were extremely sensitive. Something else that was happening more than it used to. She wondered, not for the first time, what was happening to her.

But then the familiar though slipped in: It’s okay to be sexy.

The thought didn’t feel like hers, but it felt… true.

She squeezed harder, dragging her nails over the curve of her breast, feeling the ache spread deeper, lower.

Her other hand joined the first, pushing her chest together, gasping at the way her body responded, like it had been waiting for this. Like it had been programmed to react.

Her thoughts went to Evan and then to the way the guy at the bar had looked at her. Of the way it felt to be desired—really, shamelessly desired.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered, voice hoarse, head tilting back as her thighs rubbed together. She could barely keep her balance.

Her panties were already soaked.

--------------------------------------------

Evan leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching her pose in the mirror.

The dress was ridiculous. Barely a dress at all. A plunging white cutout halter that showed more than it covered, and a green mini skirt that clung to her ass like it had been vacuum-sealed on. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She rarely did anymore.

She twisted her torso slightly, checked the angle of her cleavage, then angled her phone and snapped a photo. She didn’t even glance at him.

“You’re really wearing that out?” Evan asked, trying not to sound desperate.

Olivia smiled at her reflection. “Mmhmm.”

“Where are you going?”

She turned to him, finally, tilting her head. “Chelsea’s place. Just drinks.”

“Uh-huh.” He stared at her. “You’re gonna walk into a bar looking like that and pretend it’s just for drinks?”

Her eyes twinkled, amused. “What? You think I look too good?”

“I think…”

She stepped toward him and gave him a warning look. “Maybe you shouldn’t finish that thought.”

He didn’t answer right away. Because part of him still wanted this. The version of her he’d secretly fantasized about—the one that dressed for attention, who bit her lip and winked at strangers, who made him feel like the luckiest man alive when she wrapped around him in public. 

But now? It was too much. It was going too far.

She was losing herself.

“You flirted with the waiter and the bartender last night,” he said, quieter now. “You don’t even notice when you do it.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “It’s harmless.”

“They were both trying to get your number.”

“And did I give it to them?”

“No. But you thought about it.”

She shrugged. “Thoughts don’t count. People have thoughts all the time. It’s not cheating if you don’t do anything.”

Then Evan saw it.

The little subconscious roll of her body. Like she was warming up again. Like just the idea of being desired sparked something inside her. That dazed heat in her eyes.

“Liv,” he said, stepping forward, “what’s going on with you?”

Her voice was soft. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he whispered. “I just… I liked that you felt good about yourself. I loved that. But this… this isn’t you.”

Olivia lowered her phone, eyes still fixed on the mirror.

“What did you mean by that?” she asked, voice calm but laced with something sharper underneath. “You didn’t mean for it to go this far?”

Evan froze. “What?”

She turned toward him, her eyes boring into him. “You said that like… this was something you started.”

“No, I just—” He swallowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant… I don’t know. I meant you’ve changed. You’re acting different. At first you were more confident, but now…” He trailed off.

“But now, what?” she asked, taking a step closer. 

Evan hesitated, then gave a weak smile. “You used to hate being the center of attention. And now you dress like—”

“Like what?”

“Like you want everyone in the room to want to fuck you,” he said, the words slipping out harsher than he meant.

She stood there for a moment but then she laughed. It was a joyless laugh. 

“Wow. Okay.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did.” Her smile faded. “You don’t get to say that and pretend it’s not what you meant.”

Evan ran a nervous hand through his hair. 

She turned away from him and stepped back toward the mirror, studying her reflection. The woman staring back was stunning—pouty lips, perfect curves, and a fuck-me outfit.

She glanced at Evan in the mirror’s reflection. “Did you do something to me?”

He froze. “What?”

“I mean it. All this… this shit. The clothes. The way I react to you when you say things. When anyone says things. The voice I keep hearing in my head. Telling me to be sexier.”

“Liv,” he said meekly. “I didn’t do anything.”

She turned to face him. “I’m not sure I believe you. I don’t know what you did,” she whispered. “But I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but his shoulders slumped.

Her eyes narrowed. “Evan.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then finally, voice small: “It was just… a suggestion.”

“A what?”

He winced. “A… post-hypnotic suggestion.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That meditation thing,” he said quickly, rushing now, trying to explain it before she exploded. “That sleep app you liked? It wasn’t real. I swapped out the file. It was mine. I recorded it.”

She took a slow, stunned step back.

“You did what?”

“I didn’t think it would work! Not at first. I just… I said a few things. Just little things.”

Her lip curled. “That’s not what happened.”

“I know,” he said, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just—God, Liv, I loved watching you come out of your shell. The way you started dressing, the way you looked at me, touched me…”

She held up a hand. “Stop talking.”

He stopped.

Her chest rose and fell in anger. “You rewired me.”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“You messed with my head, Evan.” Her voice cracked. “Jesus. No wonder I feel like a fucking stranger every time I look in the mirror.”

“I fucked up,” he said, voice trembling. “I know I did. I wanted you to be happy. You were just so depressed before. I wanted you to feel good!” he blurted out. “I wanted you to know how sexy you are.”

Her whole body shivered.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered, eyes fluttering as her thighs clenched.

“I just meant you were sexy before all this…not that you’re not sexy now. ‘Cause you’re so goddamn sexy now too,” he stammered, trying to calm her, trying to explain.

Her knees weakened. Her hands found the edge of the dresser behind her as her body throbbed. The anger was still there, but something hotter was rising, pushing up through her bones like fire.

Her nipples ached against the fabric of her top.

“Stop… talking.”

Her eyes slammed shut as a moan escaped her lips.

He took a step toward her. “Olivia—”

“No,” she growled, both hands clenched tight now on the dresser. Her chest was rising fast, every breath shallow. Her body was reacting like she was being touched, but no one had laid a hand on her.

She could feel the wet heat soaking into her panties. Her thighs rubbed together involuntarily. Every muscle in her body screamed for friction, for something to fill the need.

But her eyes locked on his.

“Get the fuck out.”

Evan hesitated, torn between guilt, arousal, and fear.

“Now!”

She turned away from him, fists shaking.

The door opened behind her. Footsteps retreated. The door clicked closed again.

And she was alone.

Alone with the pulsing ache between her legs, the sick twist of betrayal in her gut… and the whisper curling sweetly in her mind:

It’s okay to be sexy.

She slid to the floor, one hand pressed between her thighs as she gasped against the wave of lust trying to drown her.

“I hate you,” she whispered. It wasn’t clear if she meant Evan or herself.

Despite her thoughts, her hand still pressed between her thighs. It rubbed against her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her. In between the moans, her mind started to solidify.

She had answers now. She knew what Evan had done. She knew what that voice in her head was. It was a fucking trigger.  And it worked so well. 

She laughed to herself, but it was interrupted by an intense orgasm. Her body shook, and she continued to laugh. It was maniacle.

She should’ve felt violated by Evan’s planted trigger. She should have felt satiated by the orgasm that just rolled through her. But instead, she felt horny. So unbelievably, desperately horny.

“You’re so sexy,” she whispered, testing it.

Her mind clicked and her body ached.

“Oh God…”

She could feel her pussy throb under her touch. Her body knew what that phrase meant now. Her nipples were stiff.  She was soaked. Her breath came in short, fast gasps.

“You’re such a hot bitch,” she moaned.

Another wave slammed through her. Her hips bucked, her fingers moving faster now.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” she choked out.

She was panting. Squirming. Her mind was unraveling, her voice trembling. She was doing it to herself and it felt so fucking good. Every time she said the words, the fire inside her roared louder.

“You’re sexy—be sexy—I’m sexy—fuck, be sexy—”

Her body twisted, writhing on the floor. Her other hand tugged at her top, yanking it down until her breasts spilled free, tight and flushed and aching for touch.

“I’m meant to be used,” she gasped.

That one hit like a punch to the core.

Another orgasm crashed over her a second later, sharp and full and obliterating. Her voice broke into a cry, her muscles trembling, her eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure tore through her

And when it passed, she slumped against the dresser, panting and sweating and spent. She lay there…still.

She opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror. Her skirt was hiked up exposing her pussy. Her breasts were out.  She was flushed, sweaty.

And she smiled at herself.

“You’re such a slut,” she said. 

The heat rolled through her again.

----------------------------------------------------

Evan sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone.

The screen lit up with another notification. She had sent another photo.

This one was in a club bathroom. Olivia in a skintight mesh dress, no bra, nipples clearly visible beneath the sheer fabric. Lip gloss smeared. One hand holding the phone. The other slipping beneath the hem of her skirt.

The caption read:

“Still thinking about your little trigger. Still sooo horny.”  😉😘🥵

It had been two weeks since he told her the truth. Since she made him leave the room, and then later walked out. She hadn’t moved out. Not technically. She still came home. Sometimes. Usually in the early morning, heels in one hand, mascara smudged, smiling to herself.

And every time she did, she was less Olivia.

Or maybe more.

He’d stopped pretending he could fix it. He tried once to place counter-suggestions, but she laughed when it didn’t seem to work.

“Oh, baby,” she’d said, crawling across the bed in nothing but a thong and a choker, “you think I want to go back?”

She didn’t. 

She flirted openly and shamelessly. She posted thirst traps every night, teased strangers in DMs, got drinks paid for at bars. She cheated relentlessly and told him all the details. 

It ate him up inside, but his guilt kept him around. 

He did this to her. 

And the worst part was, she was happy.

[rylem33]

Roleplaying

John checked his watch again. 9:14 PM.

Renee’s never this late.

He sipped his drink, trying not to seem impatient. The Delacroix’s bar was upscale, filled with ambient jazz and expensive cologne. Their plan was simple—meet like strangers, seduce each other like they were meeting for the first time. She’d be the sharp-tongued attorney who didn’t have time for his bullshit. He’d be the cocky, overconfident stockbroker with a drink too many and a pick-up line too rehearsed.

He decided to text her.

John: “You get lost in the minibar?”

Renee: “Sorry… who is this?”

He smirked. Already in character. Of course she is.

John: “Cute. You’re really committing.”

She didn’t reply.

He looked toward the lobby, eyes scanning the stairs. Then he saw her.

Blonde, bronzed, ridiculously hot—she strutted down the marble steps like she was headlining a music video, not walking through a hotel lobby. Her tiny white top barely contained her cleavage, and those skintight pink lace-up pants? They clung like sin itself. Her hips swayed with every step, stomach toned and on full display, lips glossed to a perfect pout.

Not Renee. But damn.

She passed right by him without a glance. It was like everyone else was background noise, just there to witness her entrance.

She slid onto a stool two seats down, smiling at the bartender, crossing one flawless leg over the other. Seconds later, a tall guy in a tailored blazer sat beside her. She leaned in, laughed at something he said, and rested a hand lightly on his arm.

Damn. Lucky guy.

He swirled the ice in his glass, eyes drifting to his phone again.

Still no reply from Renee.  He decided to text her again.

-----------------------------------------------------

Renee stepped into the lobby of The Delacroix in her favorite oversized hoodie and with weekend bag slung over one shoulder. 

She was nervous, but excited. She and John had planned this for weeks.

She approached the front desk.

“Hi, reservation for Renee Carter.”

The concierge beamed. “Yes, Ms. Carter. We actually have you in our Ambassador Suite tonight. It’s a complimentary upgrade. Champagne and amenities included.”

“Oh?” She blinked. “That’s… really nice of you.”

“We like to reward our guests.”

Renee wasn’t about to argue.

The suite was massive and luxurious. On the bar cart there was chilled champagne. The bathroom vanity was lined with high-end makeup wipes and unmarked glass perfume bottles like something from a boutique fantasy.

She unpacked her “lawyer” outfit, tossed the hoodie on the chair, and peeled out of her comfy clothes. She stepped into the crisp black pencil skirt, zipped it up, and adjusted the tucked-in white blouse. She looked at herself in the mirror and smirked.

I look like a boss bitch. Perfect.

She was about to leave when she remembered the perfumes in the bathroom. 

It’s free, so I might as well use it.

She reached for the violet bottle and sniffed the contents. It was a mix of floral and spiced.

This smells wonderful.

She sprayed once at her neck, once on each wrist, and paused. Her skin prickled with heat. Her chest rose with a sharp inhale, and for a second, the room tilted.

She stumbled slightly, catching herself on the counter.

Weird...

Her phone chimed and she reached for it.  She had a text.

John: “You get lost in the minibar?”

She squinted at the name. It looked... familiar. But she was having a hard time thinking. A faint ache bloomed in her temples.

Renee: “Sorry… who is this?”

The text reminded her she was supposed to head downstairs.  To the bar.  But she couldn’t quite remember why.

The warmth from the perfume surged. Her skin flushed and her head swam.

Her blouse tightened suddenly as her breasts swelled. The buttons of her top strained, then popped. One. Two. The fabric receded into something smaller, slicker. Within seconds, her crisp white blouse had become a skimpy crop top, stretched thin across a pair of breasts still growing beneath it. Her bra vanished, dissolved into the fabric like it had never existed.

Her chest heaved, full and heavy, nipples pressing through the thin material.

Her skirt slithered downward, reshaping. The fabric split at the sides, grommets forming, laces weaving themselves down either thigh as it tightened into a pair of glossy, skin-tight pink pants. Her legs lengthened, thighs thickening, calves tightening with each pulse of heat.

She gasped, arching forward. Her waist drew in hard, hips exploding outward in perfect symmetry. Her ass popped, perky and round, the laces hugging around it.

Her hair lightened strand by strand, rippling down into thick, silky waves of honey blonde. Her lips plumped, high-gloss and pouty. Her lashes grew darker, longer. Her cheekbones sharpened, skin bronzed and glowing.

The elevator chimed softly and the doors slid open.

Renee stepped into the lobby, and every man in the room turned to look.

She saw them turn, craning their necks as they tried to look inconspicuous. This kind of attention didn’t surprise her anymore. She was hot and guys stared. It was part of the deal.

Her hips swayed with confidence, the laces on her pink pants hugging her every curve. Near the bar, a man froze in place. He was older and slightly overdressed like some sleazy businessman. 

She noticed him. She always noticed the creepy ones. He had that look like he thought he might have a chance if he were younger or richer. 

Ugh. There’s always at least one creep in the room.

She ignored him as she walked passed. To her, he was just another loser at the bar who didn’t know how to handle a woman like her.

Then she saw him.

This man was tall and confident. He was well dressed in expensive clothes and very fit. 

That’s a face that can cause trouble. I bet he knows his way around a bedroom.

Her body pulsed. Her thoughts came simple, direct, unbothered. 

He’s hot and I’m horny.

She didn’t need reasons. She needed him.

Her heels echoed on the marble as she closed the distance.

She slid onto the stool beside him with the kind of grace that made men shift in their seats. She looked him over and her lips curled into a teasing smile.

“Is it always this dead in here?” she asked. “Maybe we should wake things up?”

She crossed her legs slowly, making sure he got the full view. His eyes dropped for a second, just long enough to confirm the obvious: he wanted her.

The man chuckled, amused and already hooked. “I think tonight just got interesting.”

They slipped into an easy rhythm of flirtation—quick glances, low laughs, brief touches.

------------------------------------------

John kept glancing toward the bar.

He didn’t want to be obvious. He was waiting for Renee. But the blonde seated just down the counter was impossible to ignore. 

He told himself it was just a glance, but every time he looked her way again, things had… escalated.

Now she was laughing at something the guy beside her said. Now her hand was on his chest. Now his hand was on her thigh.

Now they were kissing. Right there at the bar.

John stared into his drink, trying not to look again. But it was impossible to ignore. Her top left little to the imagination, and those pink pants clung like they were part of her skin. She looked like a fantasy come to life.

Lucky bastard, he thought bitterly.

Then his attention snapped back to his phone. He checked the time again.

9:32 PM.

Still nothing from Renee.

He frowned and typed another message.

John: “What’s going on? Where are you?”

Across the bar, a familiar chime rang out.

He looked up and saw the blonde was glancing at her phone. She frowned, tapped the screen with a perfectly manicured finger, and slid it back into her clutch without a word.

The man beside her leaned in. She smiled again, lips glossy, eyes half-lidded. Her hand found its way back to his chest as they whispered and laughed like no one else existed.

John’s phone stayed silent. He looked toward the elevator, then back at the bar.

What the hell is going on?

But he didn’t have an answer.

And as the blonde leaned in for another kiss with her new companion, John sat there, staring into his drink completely unaware that the woman he was waiting for was already here.

And she didn’t remember him at all.

[rylem33]

She Needs It

“Connor…" Her voice called.

He paused in the dark, hand brushing the frame of her bedroom door. He stood there and didn’t answer.

"Connor, can you hear me? Come here, please." she said.

He exhaled through his nose. He knows he should have ignored her. He should’ve walked to the couch, pulled a pillow over his head, and let her ride this out alone. But he didn’t do that. Instead, he opened the door.

Natalie was sprawled across the center of the bed, surrounded by white pillows, all carefully displaced to frame her just right. The black bikini clung to her body. Her legs were long and  stretched to show off every curve. Her lips parted slowly when she saw him.

"You came," she said, smiling.

Connor lingered in the doorway. “Yeah. You called.”

She tilted her head. “You sound upset.”

“I’m tired, Nat.”

Her pout deepened just a little. "Poor baby. I’ll make it easy for you."

She rose up on her knees and crawled closer, arms pressing her chest together, her body practically glowing under the soft bedroom light. "You don't even have to do anything. Just lie back. Let me ride you until I stop shaking."

“Jesus, Natalie.”

She leaned in. “Come on. You know you love it. We've had fun these past few days. I'm always here for you. Wet and ready.”

He shut his eyes for a moment. “Yeah, I know.”

Natalie moved even closer, close enough to rest her hand on his waistband. 

"We both know it feels amazing. You said so last night. And the night before that. Don’t pretend you’re not hard right now.”

“I’m sore right now,” he snapped. “My dick feels like it ran a goddamn marathon. I can’t keep up with you.”

That made her pause for a second.

“I’ve tried,” he added, quieter. “I’ve really tried, Nat. But you’re insatiable. And I’m not a machine.”

Natalie blinked, her expression flickering between surprise and frustration. “So that’s it? You’re just… quitting?”

“I’m exhausted.” He gestured helplessly. “I’ve done everything I can. My body’s wrecked. My balls feel bruised. I can’t even piss without flinching.”

“Don't be an asshole,” she quipped.

His head jerked up. “What?”

“I need this, Connor! I’m not just horny. My body aches. You think this is fun for me? Lying in this bed, soaked through, touching myself over and over?”

“You’re mad because I won’t fuck you tonight?”

“Yes, I'm mad you won't fuck me and that you're giving up on me. I didn't catch this stupid slut flu on purpose. But it's made me this hot, horny, insatiable….”

Her mind drifted off as one hand rubbed her breast and the other found her slick pussy.

Tired of waiting, Connor interrupted. “I didn't give up, Natalie. My body's giving out.”

She raised her voice and gave him a glare. “What kind of man are you?”

Connor took a step away from her.

“No,” he said. “You're not going to guilt me into it. I’m not going to fuck you.”

In an instant, she turned her expression from angry to sweet.

“Please,” she begged.

He exhaled an exhausted sigh.

“Not tonight,” he said, voice low but resolute.

She watched him turn and walk out. She sat there, rejected and desperate.

“What am I going to to now?” she said to herself.

Connor returned a few moments later holding a giant dildo.

“I can't fuck you,” he stated. “But I can still help.”

She bounced giddily and pulled off her bikini.

“Yea! You're the best,” she said.

Moments later, he started pumping it in and out of her and the room filled with screams of pleasure.

[rylem33]

Bringing in a 3rd

"...he’s definitely going to want both of us." You heard coming from the bedroom. Katrina’s voice was low and sultry. It was followed by a soft giggle that was not hers.

You stepped into the doorway and they turned to look at you.

Katrina was perched elegantly on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked beneath her, the other bare and bent at the knee. Her pink dress clung tight to her curves and hid nothing. She looked…hot.

Beside her was a younger woman, dressed in a cropped pink top and a short white skirt. The two of them had clearly been whispering just before you walked in and neither looked surprised to see you.

Katrina smiled. “Hey, baby.”

The girl leaned in close to her, lips brushing Katrina’s ear. She whispered something that made your wife laugh again.

You raised an eyebrow. “So… what’s this?”

Katrina tilted her head, innocent as sin. “You always said you liked the idea of bringing someone in. Just a little fun. A little variety.”

She reached for the other girl’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Jo’s been dying to meet you.”

The girl gave you a wide smile. “Mmmhmm. Can I call you Daddy?”

“Ummm…sure, Jo,” you replied.

She leaned forward just a touch. “Hi, Daddy.” 

That made your pulse quicken.

Katrina patted the bed between them. “Why don’t you come get comfortable?”

You stepped forward, intrigued, but not exactly shocked. Katrina had hinted before. Teased, even. “Wouldn’t it be fun to have someone else watch? Or touch?” You hadn’t expected her to actually follow through but you weren’t complaining.

Not with the way Jo was looking at you now.

Their hands found you before you sat down. Katrina sliding your tie loose, Jo unbuttoning your shirt slowly. You felt lips on your neck. First one set, then the other. Nails traced your stomach. Limbs wrapped around your body. 

“You looked so stressed, Daddy,” Jo whispered, her breath hot on your ear. “Let us help.”

Katrina straddled your lap, pressing her body to yours as she nipped your jaw. “It’s been a long time coming.”

Your shirt was off. Then your belt. Fingers dipped beneath your waistband as soft lips kissed across your chest.

“Mmm,” Jo moaned, grinding against your thigh. “You like having both of us, don’t you?”

You could barely respond, the sensation overwhelming. You nodded. That was all it took.

Jo giggled. “I knew you would.”

“She was so nervous to meet you,” Katrina said with a grin. “You’ve been on her mind for a while now.”

You looked up at Jo. “Have we met?”

She paused, just for a second, then slid down your chest and kissed your stomach.

“Yes,” she said, voice sweet and laced with something else. “You just never noticed me.”

Katrina pressed herself closer. “She used to be miserable. You let me walk all over her. You never stepped in.”

Your brows knit together. “Wait… who are you?”

Jo didn’t stop kissing you.

“I just wanted Katrina to see me for once,” she whispered. “I wanted her to stop hating me all the time.”

Katrina looked down at you with a soft, wicked smile. “So she cast a spell.”

Jo leaned in again, her voice right at your ear. “I just wanted her to like me. That’s all. I didn’t know it would change me.”

You stared into her face now and you recognized those eyes.

“Jo…?” you said slowly, heart sinking. “Joseph?”

She giggled, pressing her body tight against yours. “Not anymore.”

You tried to pull away, but Katrina caught your wrist.

“You said you wanted this,” she whispered. “And now you have us. Both of us.”

Jo kissed your lips, slow and deep.

And by the time your mind caught up and the reality that this was once your son hit home…

It was too late.

You were already hers.

[rylem33]

Kaylee's Bully

Melissa Carter was tired.

Forty-eight years of stress and worry had worn grooves into her features like the bags under her eyes. Her shoulder-length honey blonde hair had faded from its once richer shade.

She glanced down at her phone again. Kaylee hadn’t answered her last two texts. Of course not. She never does when she’s hiding in her room. 

Melissa knew what was happening. And she knew who was behind it.

Brittney Dalton, a spoiled, venomous little snake of a girl who seemed to thrive on tearing other girls down. The queen bee of Ashbury High. She was popular, rich, and seemingly untouchable. 

Melissa knew that Kaylee was with Paul. He was her best friend and rock. Supporting Kaylee through all the bullying. She left her daughter in safe hands and went to confront Brittney.

The bell above the door jingled as Melissa pushed into the café. She spotted Brittney right away, sitting alone near the back.  She was lazily scrolling through her phone, sipping some overpriced pink concoction with whipped cream.

Brittney Dalton looked like trouble wrapped in a pleated skirt. She sat at the café table with her legs crossed, midriff exposed beneath a too-tight crop top, her blonde hair in pigtails tied off with bows that made her look younger than she was, but only in the most manipulative way. 

Melissa hated confrontation and almost got cold feet.But then she pictured Kaylee crying while admitting she hated going to school now. That was enough to steel her nerves.

Melissa marched across the room, planting herself at the edge of Brittney’s table.

“Excuse me.” Her voice came out weaker than she intended.

Brittney barely glanced up. “Yeah?” 

Melissa felt her jaw clench. “We need to talk. About my daughter.”

Brittney’s lips curled into a smug little smile as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Ohhh… Kaylee.” She dragged the name out like it was a joke. “What about her?”

“Cut the act, Brittney. I know what you’ve been doing to her. The way you’ve turned her life into a damn nightmare.”

Brittney tilted her head, pretending to think. “Sounds like a her problem, not a me problem.”

Melissa’s growing rage gave her courage. “Enough. This stops now. You leave her alone, or I swear—”

Brittney leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Or what, Mommy? You gonna ground me?” She let out a breathy little laugh, twirling a strange, dark little pendant shaped like a twisting vine that was hanging from her neck.

Without thinking, Melissa reached out and grabbed Brittney by the necklace, jerking her slightly forward. The pendant swung wildly, catching Brittney’s skin just below her collarbone.

“Ow!” Brittney gasped, recoiling with wide eyes. She slapped Melissa’s hand away, her other hand flying up to cover the fresh scratch.

“The hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, voice louder now, drawing glances from other tables.  A thin, angry red line appeared on her where blood welled up instantly.

Britney stood up fast, knocking over her drink. Liquid splattered across the table and floor as Brittney pressed a napkin to the scratch, inspecting the tiny smear of blood on the white paper.

“You’re a freaking psycho,” she hissed, clutching her phone like she was ready to call someone.

Melissa was instantly regretful. She could already feel every set of eyes locking onto her. 

“Brittney, wait—” Melissa tried to lower her voice, reaching out, palms open, desperate to deescalate. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t touch me!” Brittney barked, stepping back another pace, holding the napkin tighter to her skin like she was about to dial 911.

This was getting dangerous fast. “Brittney, just calm down—”

Brittney swayed on her feet, blinking rapidly. Her smug expression cracked for the first time.

“…whoa…” she muttered under her breath, gripping the edge of the table for balance. Her phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.

Melissa’s panic surged. “Are you okay?“

Brittney didn’t answer. Instead, her knees buckled, her body tipping sideways.

“Oh my god!” Melissa lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the ground. Brittney’s body was limp, unnaturally warm, like she was burning up.

Melissa could hear the voices murmuring around the café.

“I’ve got her—she’s fine, she just… fainted,” Melissa lied, plastering a weak smile on her face as she carefully hoisted Brittney to her feet. “She’s a friend of my daughter’s.”

Someone was definitely filming.

Melissa quickly grabbed Brittney’s bag, stuffed the fallen phone into it, and practically dragged the girl toward the door, forcing another brittle smile at the gawking customers.

“It’s okay, she just needs air. She’s fine. Really. She’s fine.”

Melissa half-carried Brittney to her car parked right at the curb. She fumbled with the door, managing to ease Brittney into the passenger seat. The girl groaned faintly, head lolling toward the window, eyes fluttering half-open, dazed and glassy.

Melissa hurried around to the driver’s side, slamming the door shut behind her. Melissa leaned across the console, gently shaking Brittney’s shoulder.

“Hey… hey, can you hear me? Brittney?”

Brittney’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Her face had gone pale… no, not pale—grayish. Her skin looked off, like something under the surface was crawling just beneath it.

Melissa swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She reached for her phone, fumbling with the lock screen.

“Jesus, I… I’m calling an ambulance, just hang on—”

A wet, gurgling sound cut her off. The girl’s body had started to tremble. Her arms jerked once… then again. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her glassy eyes rolling back into her head.

“Brittney?!”

Melissa grabbed her again, trying to steady her, but Brittney’s skin felt damp and sticky.

Then, right before Melissa’s horrified eyes, Brittney sank.

It started at her jawline, skin collapsing inward like it was losing structure, bones softening and melting. Her lips slurred into a shapeless smear as her cheeks caved.

Melissa yanked her hands back as Brittney’s body slumped like overcooked pasta.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. What the fuck—what the fuck?”

Brittney’s head split open like a popped blister, releasing a thick, shiny black ooze that immediately started pooling in the seat. The rest of her followed—skin, clothes, everything—collapsing into that growing, writhing puddle.

Melissa screamed, scrambling back against her door, clawing for the handle.

“No! No, no, NO!”

The ooze shifted, moving unnaturally, as if alive. It pulsed once… then stretched toward her.

She kicked at the dashboard in terror, frantically twisting the door handle but the black slime leapt toward her, a snake of liquid lashing out, splattering across her neck and chest before she could even scream again.

“Ahh—!”

Melissa’s back slammed into the window as she clawed at the sludge, but it clung to her skin like tar, crawling up her throat, slipping under the collar of her sweatshirt.

“No! Get it off—”

It seeped into her mouth, forcing its way past her lips and down her throat.

Melissa gagged and thrashed, tears streaming down her face as the last of the ooze disappeared inside her. Her body spasmed once, twice… and then everything went still as she passed out.

----------------------------------------------------

Melissa didn’t even remember driving home.

The streets, the lights, the turns… all of it blurred together into a sickening fog. She felt cold and hot all at once, the weight of her clothes suffocating against her skin. Her throat still burned from where the slime had forced its way inside her.

Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the front door.

She stepped inside on numb legs, kicking the door shut behind her. The faint sound of the television drifted from the living room.

“Hey, hon”, her husband Mark’s voice carried toward her from the couch, casual, oblivious.

Melissa opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out at first. She swallowed thickly.

“…I’m not… feeling well,” she rasped, her voice sounding strange even to her own ears.

Mark sat up a little straighter, concerned.  “You okay? Do you need—”

Melissa didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She just shook her head slowly and started toward the stairs like she was moving underwater.

Her body felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

One step at a time, she dragged herself upward, gripping the banister with white knuckles.

The light was on in Kaylee’s room.

Melissa paused at the top of the stairs, staring at the thin slice of warm light spilling into the hallway. She could hear her daughter pacing softly inside, probably on her phone, unaware of anything that had just happened.

Melissa pressed her lips together, fighting the lump swelling in her throat.

I should check on her… I should tell her…

But the weight of everything crashed down on her at once. The fear. The horror. The way her skin still crawled like something was inside her.

Melissa gripped the doorframe to her bedroom, pushed inside, and collapsed face-first onto the bed without even kicking off her shoes.

She curled into herself, clutching her pillow as the tears finally came.

----------------------------------------------------

Melissa blinked up at the ceiling, expecting to feel like death, but she didn’t. She actually felt fine.

She sat up slowly as the room filled with soft morning light. She looked down at herself. Her sweatshirt was twisted from sleep. Her hands trembled faintly as she touched her throat, expecting… something.

But there was nothing. No burn. No stain. No black slime. Melissa exhaled a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Okay… okay. Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe it was just a dream. A really vivid… terrifying dream.

She slid out of bed and padded barefoot into the hallway, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. Everything felt normal. The scent of brewing coffee drifted up from the kitchen. The faint clinking of dishes. Mark was up.

She smiled as she descended the stairs.

“Morning,” he said, already pouring her a mug, his robe tied loosely at the waist.

“Thanks,” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic. “God, I needed this.”

Mark gave her a curious look. “Rough night?”

Melissa hesitated, then shook her head with a faint smile. “No… not really. I just… didn’t sleep great, that’s all.”

“Well, you look better than you sounded last night,” he said, stepping in to give her a light kiss on the cheek. “Thought you were coming down with something.”

“Me too,” she said quietly. “But I feel fine now. Honestly. Better than fine.”

And it was true. She hadn’t felt this energized in years.

They stood in the kitchen together in silence for a moment, sipping coffee and enjoying the calm. Melissa leaned against the counter, letting herself believe that everything was back to normal.

Then the stairs creaked and Kaylee appeared at the edge of the room.

“Morning,” she mumbled.

Melissa looked up and something twisted inside her. She couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t anger. It was… revulsion.

The sight of Kaylee’s slouched posture. The way she didn’t meet anyone’s eye. Her soft voice. Her sloppiness. She was so weak. So fragile.

The word pathetic bloomed in Melissa’s mind like a rot.

Melissa’s hand tightened around her coffee mug. Where the hell had that come from?

Kaylee shuffled to the fridge, oblivious. Melissa tried to look away, fighting to keep the sneer from breaking across her face.

God, look at her.

The thought wasn’t hers. It slithered through her mind like smoke.

Slouched over like a wet rag. No wonder they pick her apart—she walks around like she’s begging for it.

Melissa’s mind fought with itself. She gripped the edge of the counter tightly.

Pathetic little nothing, the voice cooed. You didn’t raise a daughter. You raised a doormat with a pulse.

Her nails dug into her palm, leaving crescents in the skin.

“Did you sleep okay?” she blurted. It didn’t sound like her. Not really.

Kaylee shrugged without looking. “Yeah, I guess.”

Of course you did. Nothing rattles a girl who’s too dumb to notice everyone hates her.

Melissa took a long, slow breath through her nose as she watched Kaylee grab a yogurt from the fridge.

“I’m going back upstairs,” Kaylee mumbled.

What a surprise. Can’t even finish a conversation without retreating like the sad little wretch.

Melissa nodded quickly, keeping her mouth shut. She didn’t trust herself to say anything. She didn’t trust what might come out.

Kaylee’s steps disappeared upstairs and Melissa relaxed. It felt like unclenching a fist she hadn’t realized was tight. Her shoulders slumped. Her jaw loosened. The burning heat behind her eyes cooled.

The bile of cruel thoughts lifted immediately and she felt energized.

Mark returned, walking in with the newspaper under one arm, coffee in hand.

“She heading back to bed already?” he asked with a raised brow.

Melissa turned toward him, voice steady. “Looks like it. She’s… tired, I guess.”

Mark snorted. “When is she not?” He leaned against the counter and took a sip. “Teenagers. It’s like their natural state is horizontal.”

“Honestly, I envy her,” she said. “If I could stay in bed and shut out the world some mornings…”

“You’d lose your mind after two hours,” Mark said. “You’d be organizing the junk drawer and emailing the PTA by lunch.”

Melissa smiled into her cup. “You’re not wrong.”

Mark kissed her on the temple and moved to grab the toast from the toaster.

----------------------------------------------------

The front door clicked shut behind Mark, and Melissa stood in the hallway, sipping the last of her coffee. She let out a slow breath and turned toward the stairs.

Shower. Reset. Maybe this’ll finally get whatever the hell is wrong with me out of my system.

Her foot hit the first step when she heard it.

“Mom?” Kaylee’s voice, faint but distinct, drifted from her bedroom.

Melissa stopped. For just a second, her muscles tensed like her own daughter’s voice was a trigger. 

“Yeah?” she called back.

“I can’t find my charger. Did you maybe see it?”

Melissa’s hand released the banister and she moved down the hall, each step slower than the last. Her pulse picked up. She nudged Kaylee’s door open.

Kaylee was on the floor beside her bed, hair a mess, hoodie three sizes too big, surrounded by open notebooks, cords, and half-eaten wrappers. She looked up with those same tired, watery eyes.

“Never mind,” she said. “I think I—”

“Jesus Christ,” Melissa snapped, voice slicing through the air. “Do you ever not look like a fucking disaster?”

Kaylee froze. “…What?”

Melissa’s heart jumped in her chest—but it wasn’t fear. It was something hungry.

The words had slipped out fast, too fast. No filter. No hesitation. And something hot and sweet slid up the back of her throat like venom.

God, look at her. The voice purred now. You sure she’s not feral? Hoodie, rat’s nest hair, trash everywhere? What guy would even touch that?

“Did you actually eat breakfast?” Melissa said, her tone suddenly light, fake sweet. “Or did you just crawl out of this hoarder pile and start crying again?”

Kaylee’s jaw tensed. “What the hell is your problem?”

Melissa stepped fully into the room, arms crossing under her chest. The smirk blooming on her lips didn’t even feel forced anymore.

“My problem?” she said, head tilting. “My problem is watching you wallow in your own filth like you’re waiting for someone to rescue you. Newsflash, Kaylee—no one’s coming.”

Kaylee flinched, her face twisting. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Maybe if you didn’t dress like a fucking meme and carry yourself like a kicked dog, people wouldn’t treat you like trash.”

Kaylee’s mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Her eyes shimmered with instant tears.

Melissa blinked. Something inside her blinked too.  What did I just say? What did I just—

Kaylee stood up, slow and stiff. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she whispered, voice cracking.

Melissa turned on her heel, suddenly nauseous, suddenly thrilled, gripping the doorknob.

“Forget it,” she snapped, tossing it off like the whole moment bored her. “Just… clean your fucking room.”

She shut the door on Kaylee.

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Her skin buzzed. Her jaw ached from the grin she was still fighting to bury.

God, it had felt so good.

----------------------------------------------------

Melissa stood frozen on the other side of Kaylee’s door, one hand still clenched around the knob. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She had to force her fingers to let go. She backed away slowly, numb, stomach churning with guilt… and something else. Something dark and addictive still thrumming under her skin.

She had made her daughter cry.

And part of her liked it.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She needed to hear it, the voice whispered. And you needed to say it.

“No,” she said aloud, pressing her fingers to her temples. “That’s not me. That’s not who I am.”

Melissa closed the bathroom door behind her and locked it.

She turned on the shower, hot as it would go. The bathroom filled with steam almost immediately. She peeled her clothes off slowly and stood naked in the growing cloud of steam. 

She stepped under the spray and let the heat wash over her. For a while, she just stood there, breathing, head tilted back, eyes closed. The heat soaked into her muscles. Her chest loosened. The rising panic of the morning began to slip away.

Her thoughts drifted, spiraling back to the moment in Kaylee’s room. The look on her daughter’s face. That edge of betrayal in her voice.

She looked like she was going to cry again. Like she always does.

The thought slipped out of her lips.

“She always does…”

Her eyes opened. Had she said that?

She blinked at the tiles in front of her. Her lips parted again.

“She’s so weak. God, she can’t even look people in the eye without flinching—”

The words tumbled out, faster now.

“Always hunched, always mumbling. Like she wants people to walk all over her. Maybe she likes it. Maybe that’s all she’s good for—”

“Stop,” Melissa gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.

The voice was hers, but the words weren’t. They came slick and full of poison. And when she pulled her hand away, there was black slime on her palm.

She looked down and the bottom of the shower was coated in it. A spreading pool of glistening black ooze, leaking from her mouth like a faucet she couldn’t shut off.

“Oh my god…” she whispered, voice trembling.

The memory slammed into her like a truck.

Brittney. The café. The car. The melting. It had all been real.

She staggered back into the wall, one hand braced against the tile, the other shaking as the slime continued to trickle from her lips in thick, choking ropes.

It’s inside me. 

The black pool pulsed. Moved. Almost… breathed.

Melissa’s chest heaved. She tried to scream, but her mouth opened and something else came out entirely.

“She’s pathetic.”

The words spilled from her lips like vomit. 

“Always whining. Always looking for someone to fix her.”

“No—” she croaked, trying to cover her mouth, but her hand slipped, soaked in slime.

“God, no wonder she’s a target. You can smell the weakness on her.”

“Stop—” she gasped, chest seizing.

“She’s not a daughter. She’s a burden.”

The words weren’t thoughts anymore. They were truths, pressed into her lungs by something dark and sentient.

“She doesn’t need protection. She needs to be broken.”

Melissa dropped to her knees with a wet slap, her hands sinking into the black pool now circling her thighs.

The ooze began to crawl up her legs.

“Make her fear you,” she heard herself say, voice slipping into something younger, richer, more vicious. “That’s how you teach respect.”

She clamped her lips shut, but it didn’t matter. The words still poured out—wet, wicked, unstoppable.

“She was never going to be anything. But you—” the voice purred, sliding off her tongue like silk, “you still can.”

The slime surged upward, wrapping around her thighs like latex come to life. Her skin tingled, then tightened, smoothing beneath it. Cellulite erased. Flesh lifted. Her thighs plumped with sensual, toned definition. Her knees reshaped, girlish and firm.

Melissa gasped as the ooze encased her hips, squeezing until they flared, pushing outward into a perfect hourglass. Her ass lifted in seconds, swelling behind her, bouncy and sharp beneath the slick layer now coating her skin like second skin.

“Stop—please—” she whimpered, but her voice cracked, betraying something new inside her: excitement.

The ooze kept climbing.

Her stomach flattened in an instant, muscles drawing taut beneath the shifting black. Her waist shrank smaller and smaller until it looked impossibly sculpted.

Melissa arched back with a strangled moan as the slime flowed up over her breasts, which swelled under its grip. They grew rounder, fuller, almost pornographic. Her nipples stiffened beneath the living sheen now dressing her body in something between ink and desire.

Her back straightened. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders drew back like she belonged on a stage, or a throne.

And all the while, the words kept coming:

“She’s weak. A crybaby. Always so needy.”

“You spent years nurturing a worm.”

“She’s nothing to you.”

The slime wrapped around her throat and jaw. She convulsed once as her skin flushed with new color. Her lips plumped even more, glossy and kissable, her cheeks sharpening to high, symmetrical angles. Her nose tilted upward slightly, perkier. Her lashes darkened. Her brows arched with a built-in sneer.

She tilted her head, watching her reflection twist into something else.

Her hair lengthened, thick and styled effortlessly even wet, the dull blonde gone—replaced with a brighter, sexier shade that shimmered like spun gold in the mist.

When it reached her eyes—her irises lit up like fire behind glass. A new brightness. A new hunger.

“I’m not her mother,” she purred, rising from the floor as the last of the slime sealed over her toes like heels painted into flesh. “I’m her better.”

Melissa stood fully now. Not the woman who’d begged herself to stop. Not the tired, anxious mother who whispered apologies and swallowed her rage.

This woman was all tits and venom. A cruel goddess sculpted in dripping black sheen and deliberate beauty. Every curve designed to dominate. Every breath soaked in poison and power.

And she was smiling.

----------------------------------------------------

The door slammed open without warning.

Kaylee flinched hard, nearly dropping her phone.

Beside her on the bed, Paul looked up from his spot on the floor, where he’d been leaning back against her dresser, scrolling through memes. His broad shoulders tensed, eyes narrowing.

There was a woman in the doorway. She was tall and terrifying, wrapped in glistening black that clung to her like skin. Her body was impossibly sculpted. Her long, blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, face framed perfectly, lips full and glossy, eyes sharp and lined like daggers.

“Who the hell are you?” Paul said, standing now, instinctively stepping between the woman and Kaylee.

The woman’s face contorted into a wicked smile.

“You don’t recognize me?” she said, voice rich with honeyed poison. “Aww. That’s disappointing.”

She stepped into the room, each click of her heels deliberate, predatory.

“Back off,” Paul said, squaring his shoulders. “You need to leave.”

“Oh, Paul,” she purred, eyes raking over him like she already owned him. “You always were the loyal one, weren’t you? Big, gentle, devoted. Playing the role of protector like some kind of golden retriever.”

His brows pulled together. “How do you know my name?”

She walked right up to him now, close enough for her scent to fill his nose.

“Oh, I know all sorts of things,” she whispered, reaching up to trail a finger down the center of his chest. “I know how you’ve supported Kaylee while Brittney bullied her.  I know how you’ve been there through thick and thin. I know how you’ve secretly wanted her.  Lusted for her.  And how she’s been oblivious to it.”

Paul stepped back a half-inch, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. There was something… wrong. Something electric in the air.

“Get away from her,” Kaylee said from behind him, voice cracking. “Whoever you are, get the hell away from him!”

Melissa didn’t even look at her. She kept her eyes locked on Paul’s, voice syrupy and smooth.

“You’ve always wondered what it would be like to have someone want you, haven’t you?” she whispered. “Not just the sweet one. Not just the friend. Someone who actually wants you…”

Her hand pressed to his chest, and he didn’t move.

“You’ve thought about it,” she cooed. “Don’t lie. All those times she cried to you, leaned on you. All that touching. You felt something. And you hated yourself for it. Didn’t you?”

Paul swallowed hard, jaw clenched.

Kaylee stepped forward, panicked now. “Paul, don’t listen to her!”

But he didn’t move.

“I could give you what she never will,” she whispered. “You’d never have to be her safety blanket again. You’d be mine.”

Paul’s shoulders loosened just slightly.

“No…” Kaylee stepped between them now, voice desperate. “Paul. Please.”

He blinked once, slowly, and looked down at Kaylee. Something in his eyes shifted and she seemed smaller now. Lesser.

Melissa’s voice oozed with satisfaction. “Go ahead, Kaylee. Say goodbye.”

“Paul?” Kaylee whispered, voice trembling. “Don’t.”

But Paul didn’t move.

Melissa turned to him fully, dragging one glossy red fingernail down his chest. “You’ve been such a good boy,” she purred, “loyal, patient. Always waiting your turn. Well…” She leaned in, her lips brushing against his. “Now it’s your turn.”

And she kissed him.

Kaylee gasped. “Stop it!”

Paul didn’t pull away. His shoulders sagged, like he surrendered. His hands gripped Melissa’s waist without thinking.

When Melissa broke the kiss, her lips curled into a wicked grin. “That’s more like it.”

She turned slightly, hooking her fingers in the collar of his shirt and tugging upward. “Take it off.”

Kaylee stood frozen, horrified, as Paul peeled away his shirt, then let his pants fall to the floor. He was left standing in nothing but his tight black briefs. His face was slack, entranced.

Melissa ran her palms over his chest, slow and possessive. “God, look at you,” she cooed. “All that strength, all that loyalty, wasted on her.”

Kaylee stepped backward, eyes wide, heart hammering. “Paul… please… you don’t want this.”

But Melissa spoke over her, never breaking eye contact with Kaylee. “Oh, he wants it. Every inch of him wants to forget you ever existed. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Paul dropped to his knees at Melissa’s feet.

Kaylee couldn’t breathe. Her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the floor, hands over her mouth, eyes unblinking.

Melissa looked down at her, towering in all her perfect, corrupted glory.

“This is what power looks like,” she said softly. “And you’ll never have it.”

She pushed Paul up against the wall and pulled down his underwear. 

“Well,” she said, voice like silk over something wicked, “you have been hiding a secret.”

She grabbed his cock with her hand and looked up at him.

“You’re going to be so much more fun than I thought. Now, use this monster and show me a good time.”

Kaylee couldn’t look away.

She was still curled on the floor, her breath shallow, body locked in place as Paul leaned into Melissa’s touch like he’d forgotten anything else existed. Like he wasn’t Paul anymore.

She forced herself upright, hands trembling, knees unsteady. Somehow, she made it to her feet.

And then she ran.

“Mom!?” she shouted, voice cracking as she stumbled into the hall. “Where are you!?”

From behind her came the first sounds. They were soft at first, then louder. Pleasure twisted into something commanding, raw. Kaylee slapped her hands over her ears.

“Stop it!” she cried. “Mom—please—where are you?”

She threw open her parents’ bedroom door. It was empty.

She ran to the guest room. Empty.

The sounds followed her—echoing from behind, from the room she couldn’t go back to. Laughs, gasps, screams.

She checked every room, but her mother wasn’t there.

Kaylee collapsed in the hallway outside her own room, tears blurring her vision, heart hammering against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

And then, finally, she whispered it. “…Mom?”

But there was no answer.

Only those sounds.

And the quiet, crushing truth that whatever was behind that door—wasn’t her mother anymore.

[rylem33]

On Her Knees

Callie knelt on the floor, eyes wide and glassy with hunger. Her glossy lips parted slightly as she breathed through her mouth, trembling just enough to betray how badly she wanted it.

“I need it,” she whispered. Her voice was low and needy. “Please. Let me have it. Just once.”

You stood a few feet away, trying to keep your cool. The elixir had changed her. Before, she was plain and sweet. First her body changed and you both joked about the looks she was going to get.  But the longer she was in this body, the more she craved it.  She wanted your cum.

Callie was begging for it.  She was a vision of sex and lust and all she wanted to do was suck your cock and swallow your seed.

You swallowed hard.

“You know its a bad idea,” you said, though you weren’t sure you believed it. “If you swallow cum, you'll stay this way forever.”

Her smile deepened, slow and teasing. “You say that like I care.” She shifted on her knees, body arching in an enticing way.

“Callie…” you started.

She shut you up by lunging at you and locking her lips against yours.

Her fingers grazed your chest, tracing the edge of your shirt. “You’re trying so hard,” she whispered, lips barely brushing your neck. “Still pretending you want me the way I was.”

Her breath hit your skin and your body tensed, a quiet betrayal she caught instantly. “Mmm,” she hummed. “That’s it. I can feel you breaking.”

She pressed against you. Every inch of her was heat and softness, transformed curves molded to tease and overwhelm. Her hips shifted against yours, slow and sinful. “This new body,” she whispered, “you can’t stop staring. You haven’t looked away once.”

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” she said, low and breathy, as her hand slid beneath your shirt. Her nails scraped lightly across your stomach, trailing lower. “Lie to me. Go on.”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.

She smiled. “You want the old Callie back? The one who blushed when you looked at her?”

She turned slowly, deliberately, until her back was to you again. Then her fingers slid down her sides and caught the hem of her dress.

“You’ve been trying so hard,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. “But I can see it in your eyes. You’re aching for it. Aren’t you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. The dress slipped past her hips, gliding down her thighs. It hit the floor in a quiet heap. 

She was naked. Every inch of her transformed body was now on full display.

“Look at you,” she murmured. “Trying not to stare. But you are.”

“Let me put your cock in my mouth,” she continued. “Let me use my toungue. I want to feel you grow hard. I want to lick the salt off you. I want suck as you throb and I want to hear that little noise you make when you finally give in.”

She dropped back to her knees in front of you, looking up at you. 

“I know you’ve imagined this ever since I changed. I know you have,” she cooed,

She let the silence hang a moment longer, letting you feel how small your will had become. Then, without a word, she stepped forward. Her hands slid around your waist.

Slowly, her fingers found your belt. The metal clinked as she undid your buckle.

She looked up at you, eyes gleaming. Not asking. Daring you to stop her.

You didn’t move. You wanted this. You knew it and so did she.

She pulled the belt free, then undid your pants with agonizing slowness, the button popping open, the zipper dragged down one tooth at a time. She kept her eyes on yours the entire time.

When the fabric dropped and pooled around your ankles, she smiled.

“I win,” she whispered.

And you didn’t argue.

[rylem33]

Split

“You just gonna stand there and stare all night?” she whispered, her lips curling into a smirk.

He swallowed hard, stepping closer like he wasn’t even in control of his own body anymore.

Brandi giggled softly, running her fingers through her long platinum hair. “You’re such a bad boy, sneaking around on your wife like this.”

Eric flinched, just a little. But she saw it.

Brandi crawled to the edge of the bed on all fours, slowly trailing her fingers up his thigh. “You don’t have to lie to me, baby. You think I didn’t already know?” She leaned in, brushing her lips against his ear. “I don’t care that you’re married. You’ve been mine since the first time you swiped right.”

He groaned softly, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into his lap. Their mouths crashed together, desperate and sloppy. His hands roamed her body like he couldn’t get enough. Like she was everything he’d ever wanted.

Clothes hit the floor in seconds.

He pushed her onto her back, covering her body with his, kissing down her chest, her stomach, her thighs, until she was gasping, trembling, begging.

Eric whispered softly, like a confession he’d been holding back for weeks. “I’m going to leave Dana.”

She stared at him with an odd expression and didn’t say anything.

“I’m serious,” he breathed, pulling her tighter, like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re all I want, Brandi.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t answer right away. She just let it hang there, relishing the way those words hit her like a shot of pure adrenaline.

A hot, wicked grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She dragged her nails softly down his back, slow and possessive, making sure he felt every inch. "Yeah?" she whispered, her voice syrupy and low. "You really mean that, baby? You’re done with her?"

Eric nodded against her skin, kissing the hollow of her throat. "I’ve never felt like this before. You make me… alive. You make me feel wanted. Desired." He paused, breathing hard. "I want you."

She pushed him back just far enough to meet his eyes, making herself look vulnerable.

"You’d really do that for me?" she whispered. "You’d really leave her… for this?"

Eric cupped her face like she was the only thing keeping him alive. "I’d do anything for you."

Brandi leaned in and kissed him slow and deep.

-------------------------------------------

Dana stood at the bathroom mirror, staring at the little black bottle in her shaking hand.

Last time, she told herself. One more night and this is over.

But she already knew she was lying.

She popped the cap, bringing the bitter liquid to her lips. The taste made her wince, but she forced it down in one long swallow.

Almost immediately, she felt the rush like electricity under her skin. She gripped the edge of the sink as her body began to tingle, tighten, shift.

Her brown hair lightened to platinum blonde. Her curves swelled, her waist cinched, her lips plumped.

Dana—now Brandi—smiled wickedly at her reflection, running her tongue over her lips.

He wouldn’t last ten minutes tonight.

And God, what a sick, beautiful mess this had turned into.

It had started so small. Just a hunch. A gut feeling. Something had shifted between them.

Eric’s late nights at the office. The way he stopped noticing her. The way he’d flinch when she reached for his phone.

And then she saw the dating apps on his phone. The messages to girls half her age. Girls named things like Lexie and Alyssa. God, he even had a type. Flirty texts about how he needed something new, something exciting. How Dana just didn’t do it for him anymore.

She could have confronted him that night. Should have. But something darker had taken root in her chest. She needed to know just how far he’d go. Was he just flirting, or did he intend to cheat?

That’s when she found out about the Elixir from some sketchy website promising transformation, allure, and power. She’d laughed at it… until she didn’t. The idea haunted her for days. And when the bottle arrived in that cheap black box, she hadn’t even hesitated.

The first time she transformed into Brandi, it was terrifying. She’d stood in front of the mirror, poking and prodding her body like she wasn’t real. But the second time? The third? God, it felt good. Addictive.

And while Dana became more cold and distant with Eric at home, Brandi slid into his DMs. Brandi teased him. Flirted with him. Made him need her.

Every time Dana watched him sneak off to meet his other woman, she knew she was wrapping him even tighter around her finger. Dana was pushing him away, sure. But Brandi? Brandi had him begging on his knees.

And now, he was ready to throw it all away for her.

-------------------------

Dana let the last page flutter onto the lawyer’s desk, crossing her legs slowly as she leaned back in her chair.

The lawyer adjusted his glasses, eyeing her suspiciously. “One last thing, Mrs. Walker—uh, Dana. Are you sure you want to execute this transfer? Moving your entire divorce settlement into an account under… Brandi McKay? There’s no legal entity, no ID, no—”

“I’m sure,” she interrupted smoothly, not even blinking.

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I just… I’m obligated to advise you that you could lose claim to—”

“I said I’m sure.”

------------------------------

The elevator doors slid shut. Dana leaned against the mirrored wall, chest heaving. Her fingers trembled as she dug through her purse, shoving useless things aside until she felt it. The little black vial she’d been saving.

She stared down at the label. Permanent Dose.

Dana glanced up at her reflection and let out a bitter laugh. The tired eyes. The thinning hair. The saggy skin. She looked old. She hated it.

With a shaking breath, she popped the cork, the sharp scent of the elixir filling the tiny space. Her lips curled into a hungry grin.

“Goodbye, Dana,” she whispered, tipping the vial to her lips.

She drained it in one greedy swallow, wincing at the bitter taste but savoring the fire it sent coursing through her veins.

Dana gripped the railing, groaning softly as the transformation locked into place.

Dana Walker was gone.

Brandi McKay was real. She was forever.

—------------------------------

Brandi leaned against the balcony doorframe, sipping her champagne. The new condo overlooked the glittering skyline.

Eric stood by the island, two empty glasses in front of him, his hands resting heavily on the countertop. He looked exhausted, but he smiled anyway.

“To us,” he celebrated, raising his glass.

“I’m just so happy, baby.” Brandi teased. “I can’t believe you bought this condo for me.”

“You like it?” he asked nervously. “I… I cashed out all my stock options to make it happen. You deserve the best.”

Brandi took another sip, set her glass down, and sauntered toward him. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her body against him.

“You really did all this for me?” she whispered into his ear, her voice dripping with sugar.

“For us,” he said softly. “I just want you to be happy, baby.”

Brandi leaned back in his arms.  He couldn’t see the smile fade from her lips.

“You know…” she started, pulling away, grabbing her glass again and swirling the champagne lazily. “I was thinking about you today.”

Eric blinked, already sensing something had shifted. “Yeah?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, barely holding back the laugh building in her throat. She’d already drained him dry. This condo was just the last squeeze.

She turned, leaning back against the island.

“About how fucking easy it was to take everything from you.”

His face twitched, confused. “…What?”

“You really don’t get it, do you? You sold your future… your company… everything you built… for me. And while you were busting your ass trying to keep me happy?” She stepped closer, crouching down in front of him, her voice sharpening to a cruel whisper. “I’ve been fucking anyone I wanted.”

Eric was shocked.

“Oh yeah,” she hissed. “Every hard-bodied man I could find. I’ve had so much fun fucking my way around the city.”

He shook his head, as if refusing to believe it. “No… Brandi, please…”

“Do you honestly think I was going to settle for you?” she spat. “God, I’ve been playing you since day one. You’re a fucking cheater. You could never be worthy of someone like me.”

Eric dropped into the barstool like he’d just been punched, burying his face in his hands, shaking his head. He looked at her, a broken man full of regret.

 “I should’ve stayed with Dana…”

That made Brandi laugh.

[rylem33]

A Happy Ending

I’ve been doing a lot of bitchification and corruption stories lately that tend towards “bad” endings. I was asked to do a story with a happy ending. So please enjoy.

----------------------------------------

Ben sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands twisted in his hair.  It had been so different since that morning.  A few days ago his relationship, his life, turned upside down without any explanation. The bedroom door clicked open and Ben flinched.

Aubrey stood there, backlit by the hallway light, like she hadn’t a care in the world. She looked insanely hot—decked out in tight, pastel pink from head to toe. The lace-up top barely contained her cleavage, crisscrossed strings holding the fabric together like it might snap if she so much as breathed too hard. Her matching pink pants clung to her hips, laced all the way down the sides, showing off every curve like she was a walking thirst trap.

A chunky designer bag hung from her wrist and her blonde hair was perfectly styled. A diamond choker glittered at her throat. And those clear sky-high platform heels clicked softly on the floor as she stepped inside.

She flicked her hair over her shoulder with a lazy smirk.

“Ugh, God, this place is such a dump,” she muttered under her breath, glancing around. “I swear to God, I cannot believe I used to like living like this.”

Ben stayed quiet. He’d heard it all before. He’d heard her snap at the barista that morning. Heard her chew out the mailman for “bending the packages.” He’d watched her roll her eyes at their neighbors in the hallway, ignoring them like they didn’t even exist when they said ‘hello’..

The old Aubrey would’ve died of embarrassment acting like that. But this Aubrey loved it. She loved being bratty, bitchy, and sometimes just outright mean to just about everyone. But when she looked at him—just him—her whole face softened.

“Baby…” she sighed, stepping closer, crouching in front of him. She pressed her fingers under his chin and tilted his face up to meet hers.

“I hate seeing you like this,” she whispered. “You don’t deserve it. Not you.”

Ben’s throat tightened. “But it’s what I get, isn’t it? You… you don’t want me anymore.” “Not like that.” Aubrey frowned.

“I love you,” she whispered like it hurt to admit it.  “I just… I can’t want you right now. Not like… this.”

She stood up, pacing toward the window. He watched her in silence as she stared out into the city lights. Even standing still she had a presence. It was like she knew she was the hottest thing in the building. In all honesty, she was.

“Ugh. You wouldn’t believe the looks I got tonight,” she scoffed, running her manicured nails down her waist. “Women practically begging me for attention. Men groveling like dogs. It was pathetic.”

Her head turned slightly, just enough to glance at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were soft again, like none of that mattered when it came to him.

“I’ve gotta tell you something,” she whispered. Her voice cracking a little. 

“What?” he said harsher than he wanted.

“Ever since that night. God, Ben. It’s been so fucking bad.”

She started pacing again, her bag swinging at her side. “I’ve been so goddamn horny, baby. All the fucking time. But I don’t do anything. I come home to you.”

Ben swallowed hard. His voice cracked. “Why? Why come back to me?”

She let out a soft, almost bitter, laugh but when she turned fully to face him again, her expression was serious.

“Because I love you, Ben. I didn’t want this.” she said waving her arms up and down her body. “I only wanted you. Whatever did this to me, didn’t ask my permission first.”

She kneeled down in front of him and placed her head against his stomach. She could see his cock grow immediately. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to tease you. It’s not my fault I’m only attracted to hot women now.”

Ben stood, like he wasn’t sure if his legs would hold him. “Then… what are we supposed to do?”

She bit her lip, glancing down like she was arguing with herself. Then, like she’d decided fuck it, she walked up and grabbed his hands. “Come with me. Let me show you where this all started. Maybe… maybe it can give us a way to fix this.“

He nodded once. “Okay.“

-------------------------------------

Later that night, they stood outside of Mina’s. Aubrey had demanded time to change into something “actually worth wearing.”

She wasn’t kidding.

Gone was the pink lace-up outfit. Now she stood in front of him like she was ready to start a riot.

Tiny black leather shorts barely covered her ass. A microscopic black bikini top pushed her tits up so high they looked like they might spill out if she breathed wrong. She had some oversized leather jacket draped over her shoulders like she couldn’t be bothered to actually wear it. And those pink and black Playboy boots? They looked like they belonged to the Queen of Bad Decisions herself.

Her hair was a messy, high blonde updo, loose curls falling around her face. And that smirk? God, it was lethal.

“You better not stare like some sad little puppy all night,” she snapped at Ben without looking back. I swear to God, if you start embarrassing me again, I’ll leave your ass right here.“

Ben flinched but nodded. He knew she didn’t mean it. Or at least, he hoped she didn’t.

Aubrey strutted right up to the door like she owned the building. Ben hung back half a step, anxiety bubbling in his chest. Aubrey’s friend Melanie had somehow gotten them on the list for Rachel’s bachelorette party. It was an exclusive club and you could barely notice it from the street. They weren’t on the list for tonight.

The bouncer didn’t move. He stood there like a wall, mouth twisted in permanent disapproval. His eyes flicked down to Ben, then slid to Aubrey.

“Name?” he grunted.

Aubrey didn’t even slow down. She blew right past the velvet rope like she didn’t hear him.

“Move.” Her voice cut through the air like a slap.

The bouncer’s hand shot out, blocking her with the back of his arm. “Not how this works, sweetheart.“

Aubrey slowly turned her head, her lip curling in mock amusement. She glanced down at his arm like it was something disgusting she’d have dry-cleaned off later.

“*Did I stutter?” she hissed, stepping in, heels clicking sharply. “*Move. We’re going in.“

The bouncer stood his ground, jaw tightening. “Name, now.”

Ben felt his stomach sink. He knew this wouldn’t work. Of course this wouldn’t work. Why the hell had he let her drag him…

Aubrey let out the fakest, most annoyed laugh Ben had ever heard. She leaned in, dragging one long pink nail down the man’s massive arm.

“God,” Aubrey groaned, rolling her eyes like she was already over this man’s existence. “Do I look like I give my name to rent-a-thugs?“

The bouncer’s nostrils flared. “You’re not on the list. Neither is he. Go home.“

Aubrey tilted her head, giving a slow, vicious smile. She leaned in, pressing her nail dead-center on his chest.

“Listen up, muscle boy,” she whispered, voice dipped in venom, “I’m not going home. I’m not giving you my name. And I’m not going to explain myself to some bloated doorman with more biceps than brains.“

The bouncer stiffened.

“Here’s what is going to happen,” Aubrey continued, her finger stopping dead-center on his chest. “You’re going to move. Right now. Or I’m going to make such a fucking scene that your boss is begging me to step over your worthless body.“

Ben swallowed hard. He could feel the tension.

For a heartbeat, the bouncer didn’t move. 

Then, grinding his jaw so hard Ben swore he could hear his teeth, the bouncer let out a long, sharp breath through his nose and jerked the rope aside with a harsh swipe.

“Go. Both of you.“

Aubrey smiled, slow, cold, and victorious. “Good boy.“

She grabbed Ben by the wrist, dragging him toward the entrance without looking back once. The music hit like a wave the moment the door shut behind them.

Aubrey leaned in close, her lips brushing his ear, voice pure sin.”See, baby? Told you I always get what I want.“

She ran her fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp, her voice softening just for him.

“And I want you with me. Always.“

--------------------------------------------

The place was unlike anywhere Ben had ever been before. He could feel the pounding bass deep in his chest. The room was mostly dark, but neon lights cracked through the haze in pinks, purples, and reds. 

The room was full of attractive people. Those who weren’t were flaunting their money. And even amongst this crowd, every eye was on her. Aubrey knew it, too. 

Her hips swayed like a metronome in perfect sync with the music, head high, showing off her toned stomach and perfect tits. She stomped across the floor in her knee-high boots like she owned it.

Men turned to watch her. Women did too. Some watched with hunger and others with jealousy. Every stare slid over her body like they needed to own her or be her. And Aubrey loved it. She basked in it.

The moment people noticed Ben walking hand-in-hand with her, their faces twisted into confusion. It was like they were seeing some joke they didn’t understand.

A tall woman in leather leaned against the bar, eyes flicking from Aubrey to Ben and back again. She let out a loud, mocking laugh as they passed. “Seriously? That’s who you’re dragging in here? Him?“

Aubrey noticed how the words impacted Ben. She stopped on a dime, turning her head just enough to flash that flawless, dangerous smile.

“I’m sorry,” she purred, taking a step toward the woman without missing a beat, “did you say something?“

The woman straightened, cocking her head, trying to save face. “Just saying you could do a hell of a lot better, sweetheart.“

Aubrey leaned in so close her breath probably tickled the woman’s ear. “You think I give a fuck what you think? He’s with me.”

The woman flinched—actually flinched—before looking away, silent.

Aubrey turned on her heel without missing a beat, grabbing Ben’s hand tight and pulling him through the crowd.

“Ignore them, baby,” Aubrey whispered, glancing over her shoulder with a devilish grin. “They’ll learn.“

She dragged him onto the center of the floor, right into the slow swirl of red light. Her body moved like she belonged there—hips rolling, arms stretching over her head, letting the music own her. She danced like she hadn’t thought about anything but herself in days.

Ben tried to keep up, standing awkwardly at first. But then Aubrey leaned in, biting her lip, grabbing his shirt. “Loosen up, baby.“

He tried. God, he tried. They danced for a while, an odd pairing in the sea of perfect strangers. The looks never stopped. Ben felt every single one.

She leaned in, brushing her lips against his ear again. “This is where I was… right here, dancing my ass off. Drinking God knows what.“

Ben tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “But you didn’t feel anything? Nothing… weird?“

She just shrugged, turning her back to him, rolling her hips in time with the beat like it was second nature. 

“It was a bachelorette party and was drunk, baby. I felt good. I don’t even remember leaving. Somehow I got home. Then I woke up the next morning like… this.”

Ben nodded, then leaned in and whispered, “I need a minute.”

He slipped away, leaving Aubrey dancing by herself.

Immediately, two guys tried to slide in, but Aubrey shut them down with a single withering glance. They walked away defeated, like she’d kicked them in the chest.

Ben couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

Ben’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching for something to give reason to what happened to Aubrey. He tried to ask a few people, but no one cared to listen. They were all to busy enjoying their night. After a while, he ended up at the bar. He leaned in, desperate for someone to take him seriously. 

The bartender, a man in his mid-thirties with tattooed arms and slicked-back hair, leaned forward lazily. “What’ll it be?“

Ben hesitated, eyes darting toward Aubrey, who was still dancing but now with a woman who was draping herself on Aubrey in a way Ben found both hot and disturbing. Ben leaned in closer. “Actually… I—”  He rubbed his face, feeling ridiculous even trying to explain it.  “I don’t need a drink. I… I need answers.”

The bartender arched an eyebrow. “Don’t we all?“

“My wife… she came here a few days ago. She woke up the next morning looking… different. Acting… different. You ever heard of something like that happening here?“

The bartender just stared at him for a second, like he wasn’t sure if Ben was fucking with him or not. Then he gave a slow shake of his head.

“Look, man… this is a club. People get wasted, they wake up different every weekend. That’s how it works.“

Ben’s heart sank. “No, I mean—“

“I heard you.”  The bartender leaned in, lowering his voice just slightly.  “If something happened to her, it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t here. People like to blame this place for all kinds of weird shit. But trust me… we just serve drinks.“

Ben sat back, deflated. His eyes flicked toward Aubrey again.

“Sorry, man,” He slid Ben a drink. “Wish I had more for you. That one’s on the house.”

Ben forced a weak smile and sipped his drink.

They stayed a while longer. The entire time, Aubrey danced and flirted. She worshipped the attention. But Ben could tell she kept checking on him too. She wanted him there. As much as she drank it all in, she never let herself stray too far from him.

--------------------------------------------

They fumbled through the door sometime after two in the morning, the door slamming shut behind them. Aubrey stumbled first, kicking off her pink and black Playboy boots with a careless giggle.

“God, I needed that,” she sighed, flopping back onto the couch with zero grace. She sprawled out like she owned the place, leather jacket slipping off one shoulder, her legs spreading wide, head falling back onto the pillows.

Ben leaned against the door, watching her in that fucking outfit—the black leather shorts clinging to her hips, the micro bikini top still somehow holding on by a thread. Her skin glistened with sweat.

“You’re something else…” Ben muttered, words slurring just enough to betray how many drinks he’d downed trying to keep up with her.

Aubrey cracked open one eye, smirking even wider. “Damn right. Took you this long to notice?“

She stood up, sauntering toward the bedroom without paying attention to him. 

As she reached the doorframe, she shrugged off her leather jacket, letting it drop to the floor without a care. She continued, reaching behind her back and tugging the tiny black top up and over her head, exposing every inch of flawless, bouncing skin. She let it fall from her fingers with a soft thump.

Ben stood there, unable to do anything but watch. 

Aubrey shimmied out of her tight leather shorts next, stepping out of them one leg at a time until she was completely naked, standing there like a fucking curse made flesh.

She climbed into bed, stretching out like a goddess, pulling the blanket down with one hand and patting the empty spot next to her.

“Come here, baby.“

Ben didn’t hesitate. He slid in next to her, pulling her tight against his chest, burying his face in her hair.

“Aubrey…” he whispered.

She let out a slow, knowing breath, sitting up just slightly. “Baby… don’t.“

But he couldn’t stop. He missed her. Missed how she used to melt under his touch, how she used to need him. “Just… let me try.“

His hands slid up her thighs, shaking just a little. Her body stiffened.

“Ben…” she whispered again, softer this time, almost broken.

He looked up at her, desperate. “Please… let me have you. Just… just once.“

She slid her fingers into his hair, cupping the back of his head. She pulled him forward, pressing her lips to his forehead, holding him there.

“You don’t want me like that,” she whispered, voice shaking.

Ben’s throat closed tight. He wanted to argue, but deep down, he knew she was right.

She curled her fingers around his hand on her waist, whispering so soft he almost didn’t catch it.

“I still love you, Ben. I know this is killing you. Hopefully, this will all be over in the morning.“

Ben closed his eyes tight, breathing her in. They held onto each other until sleep finally took them both.

--------------------------------------------

Aubrey cracked open one eye. Her head pounded. She groaned, rolling over into the mess of tangled sheets but Ben’s side was empty.

“Fuck me…” she hissed under her breath, throwing the blanket off herself and sitting up slowly, clutching her head.

She rubbed her temples, wincing at every creak of the floor as she padded naked toward the kitchen. She grabbed a glass from the counter and slammed it under the faucet.

“God, why does everything fucking suck today?” she growled to no one, slamming the glass down hard enough to rattle the counter.

The hallway bathroom door was cracked open, light spilling out onto the floor.

“Ben?” she croaked, dragging herself toward it. “You been up for a while?“

She rubbed her bleary eyes and pushed the door open fully. Standing at the mirror was a woman. A tall, blonde and toned woman.

Aubrey’s eyes moved up and down, taking in her full hips, her curves. The woman locked eyes with Aubrey in the mirror. The eyes were frighteningly familiar.

“Ben?” Aubrey spoke, stepping inside.

The woman turned around slowly, her lips curling into a cocky little smirk, one perfectly manicured brow arching up. “Took you long enough to fucking wake up.“

Aubrey staggered back a step, staring at the walking, talking sex bomb standing in front of her.

“Holy shit… Ben? What… what the fuck?“

Ben laughed. “Guess our little trip to the club worked after all, baby.“

Aubrey’s mouth hung open, completely wrecked by the sight.

Ben stepped toward her, barefoot, hips swaying like he’d been this way his whole life. She leaned one hand on the doorframe right beside Aubrey’s head, lips curling into something wicked.

“God, look at you,” Ben purred, eyeing her up and down. “Fuck me, you’re so hot.“

Aubrey’s head spun. “Ben… you’re a woman.”

Ben chuckled, leaning in, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind Aubrey’s ear, voice dropping to a filthy whisper. “So are you, babe.“

Aubrey’s heart hammered in her chest as she realized the truth.  They could be together. “Holy fuck… we can make this work.“

Ben grinned wide, leaning in even closer until their lips almost touched. “Damn right we can.“

Aubrey launched forward, crashing her lips into Ben’s. Ben groaned into her mouth like she’d been starving for this. Their bodies collided in a blur of sweat and want, hands gripping skin, pulling, clawing, claiming.

“God,” Aubrey gasped, dragging her nails down Ben’s bare back, “I’ve been so fucking horny. I’ve been trying so hard to not cheat. And now, I don’t have to fight anymore. You feel so fucking good.”

Ben…no, Brenna, the name popping into her brain, bit her bottom lip hard enough to make her whimper, then shoved her back against the cool tile wall of the bathroom.

“I’ve waited for this too, Aubrey.“

Their mouths crashed again. Aubrey’s leg wrapped around Brenna’s thigh, grinding shamelessly. Their curves pressed together, sin made flesh. Every inch of friction felt necessary, like they’d been wired for this moment their whole lives and just hadn’t realized it.

The mirror behind them fogged with their heat.

They stumbled out of the bathroom, tangled and gasping, knocking into furniture, laughing, cursing, tearing the place apart on their way to the bedroom.

“This is fucking insane,” Aubrey moaned as Brenna pushed her down onto the mattress, crawling on top of her.  “We’re insane.“

“Fucking good,” Brenna corrected, trailing kisses down her neck. “Fucking perfect.“

Aubrey pulled her up by the hair and kissed her hard.

They didn’t care how loud or how feral they were. It was two goddesses reclaiming each other in bodies that finally matched their hunger.

Moans turned to growls. Fingers tangled in hair. Mouths explored with filthy desperation. It was euphoric. It was a rebirth forged in sweat and spit and love twisted with heat.

And when they came, it was loud. Their breathless, bodies arching and shaking in the ruined sheets. Brenna pulled Aubrey close, lips brushing her ear. Aubrey curled into Brenna’s side, trailing lazy fingers over her stomach.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Brenna whispered. “We’re fucking unstoppable now.“

Aubrey grinned, heart pounding, body still buzzing. “The world has no idea what’s coming.“

They lay there a moment longer before Aubrey rolled onto her back, eyes burning into the ceiling, a wicked little smirk curling on her lips. “Let’s burn it all down, baby…“

Ben leaned over, biting softly at her shoulder. “…together.“

And just like that, the world was officially fucked.

[rylem33]

Mother's Day ... Spreads

The front door swung open with a creak and Ashley kicked it closed behind her a little harder than she meant to. She placed the flowers and food she had left early to buy on the small table by the door. Her eyes were glued to her phone, scrolling through her feed as she called out casually into the house.

“Okay… seriously, is anyone else seeing this? Every headline is moms everywhere waking up looking like they just walked off a fucking magazine cover overnight?” She huffed a breath and kept walking toward the kitchen. “Like, what kind of weird Mother’s Day prank is this supposed to be?”

She walked towards the living room and her gaze instantly landed on the couch.

Her mother, Linda. was straddling her husband. Ethan was underneath her as she, grinded slowly against him. She let out a low, breathy moan that made Ashley’s blood run cold. 

Linda turned her head lazily toward the sound of Ashley’s voice, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she leaned in and whispered something filthy into Ethan’s ear, making him groan in response. “Mmm… there you are, sweetheart,” Linda purred, deliberately arching her back to push her massive cleavage right into Ethan’s face, moaning again as she rocked her hips slower, deeper. “You should have seen the look on his face when he woke up and saw me like this… poor thing couldn’t even speak.”

Linda’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. Her platinum blonde hair was messy in that on-purpose way. Big hoop earrings swayed as she leaned back, adjusting the deep, plunging neckline of her black and red dress, her cleavage practically spilling out with every little breath. 

Ashley’s heart punched the inside of her chest. “What… the fuck…”

Linda tilted her head playfully, running one manicured finger along Ethan’s jaw. “Morning, sweetheart,” she purred, like nothing was wrong at all.

Ashley staggered a step forward. “You’ve gotta be fucking joking.”

Ethan looked guilty. “Ash, I—”, but the words fell flat as Linda continued to ride on top of him. 

“No!” Ashley snapped, cutting him off. She pointed, voice rising. “You’re seriously fucking my mother?!”

Linda giggled. Actually giggled.

Her voice low and teasing. “What can I say? I’m a new woman now.” She slid off him and stood up slowly, smoothing the sides of her painted-on dress and rolling her hips as she sauntered toward her daughter. “And let’s be honest… when was the last time you gave him what he really needed?”

Ashley recoiled like she’d been slapped. “Oh my God, listen to yourself! You’re fucking disgusting!”

Linda smirked wider, stopping just inches from Ashley, lowering her voice to a whisper. “And yet… here he is.”

Ashley let out a shaky breath, tears burning in her eyes as she stepped back toward the door. “I hope you both burn in hell.”

She didn’t even wait for a reply. Yanking the door open, she left.

Linda turned back toward Ethan, her voice dripping with wicked satisfaction.

“Looks like it’s just us again, baby…”

[rylem33]

Mother's Day

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, rolling out of bed. Shit, later than you meant to sleep. It was Mother's Day and you were supposed to be up early, but what did it really matter? You figured Mom would already be off watering the garden or finishing the crossword in her usual baggy robe.

The old clock radio on your dresser lit up as you twisted the dial, filling the room with chatter. Some morning show… typical goofy banter.

“…government has yet to comment, but reports are coming in from around the world—”

“…transformations, described as… hyper-sexual… unnaturally youthful—”

“…millions of mothers waking up looking decades younger—”

“…behavior described as—”

You snorted, shaking your head.  What kind of dumb Mother's Day prank is this?  You slapped the button, cutting it off mid-sentence.

With a stretch, you threw on a t-shirt and joggers, still fighting off sleep as you padded toward the stairs. The house felt… oddly quiet. Usually you'd hear your dad and sister going on about something. Or smell the pot of half-drunk coffee.

Weird.

You reached the bottom step, heart thumping a little harder for some reason. That’s when you caught movement in the kitchen. You leaned to peek around the corner.

She stood there against the island counter, one leg crossed over the other, wearing nothing but  see-through black lace barely clinging to her flawless, tanned skin. Her cleavage was fully exposed, framed perfectly by the deep, plunging neckline. Black lace thigh-high stockings wrapped around her long legs, disappearing into thin, strappy heels.

She looked like something out of a magazine.  A dirty magazine.

She shifted her weight to one hip and let out a soft, breathy moan as she spotted you  Her eyes practically lit up.

“There you are…” she whispered, her voice dripping with need.

She brought one finger to her lips, biting it softly as her eyes roamed over you with open, hungry approval. Her body shifted slightly, the lace straining across her curves. She pressed her heel down slowly, dragging her toe along her opposite calf as she leaned back on the counter with a breathy little moan.

“I’ve been waiting for you…”

She uncrossed her legs and stood tall, running her fingers down the deep line of bare skin between her breasts, curling them toward the hem of the lace.

“I was starting to think you’d sleep the whole day away…” she teased, dragging one finger down her bare thigh as she leaned against the doorway.

“Daddy… and your sister… couldn’t handle me,” she sighed, her voice low and almost teasing.

Her nails scraped softly along the counter’s edge as she leaned forward, her lashes fluttering.

“But you…” she whispered, a slow smile spreading across her perfect lips, “…I think you’re gonna give Mommy exactly what she needs.”

Her eyes roamed over you like she was starving.

“Come on, baby… don’t keep Mommy waiting.”

[rylem33]

Infiltrating Alexis

“I don’t need you to do this,” you say, kneeling beside her.

Rachel looked up from the spellbook, her fingers tightening around its worn leather binding. “It’s not dangerous,” she insisted, though she didn’t sound convinced. “It’s just glamour magic. Temporary body. Temporary identity.”

She paused, brushing her bangs behind her ear. She smiled at you and you forced a smile back.

“I’ve practiced the chant a dozen times. The parameters are clear. I’ll look like someone Alexis would actually let within five feet of her. I’ll act like I belong. Get some kind of intel on her.  Something we can use to get her to stop bullying you.”

“And then you come back,” you said quietly.

Rachel reached up and yanked two strands of her hair from her scalp, wincing. “One to go in,” she said, dropping the first into the center of the circle, “and one to come back.”

She handed you the second, wrapping your fingers around it. “Keep it safe. You’ll need my hair to cast the spell to change me back.”

“I’m really not sure about this Rach,” you press. “There has to be another way.”

She looks at you lovingly. “I love you and I can’t stand to see you suffer like you do.  Every day.  It’s time to put an end to it.”

Rachel stripped naked and stepped into the circle. Her heart was pounding loud enough to fill the room. “Okay. Here goes.”

She spoke the incantation slowly, carefully. The candles trembled. The air thickened around her. You felt your skin prickle.

She gasped. Her legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees, hands splaying out on the hardwood floor.

Her hips flared first, a slow, rolling motion beneath her skin. You watched muscle and fat redistribute right in front of you, sculpting her into something exaggeratedly feminine. Her thighs thickened, curving outward with perfect symmetry, and her ass pushed back with a soft, deliberate swell.

Her waist pulled in, to unnatural proportions, until the hourglass shape looked sculpted. Her back arched involuntarily, chest heaving.

Then, her breasts began to rise.

You'd seen her naked plenty of times, but this was different. The way her chest inflated felt… unreal. The swelled, firm and round, then capped with suddenly darker, perkier nipples. Her skin glowed with a faint, artificial perfection. No blemishes. No stretch marks. Just smooth, tanned curves like a photoshopped magazine cover.

Her hair flowed longer and lighter, turning a shimmering honey-blonde that caught the candlelight. Her lips swelled into a pouty fullness, and her eyes opened wide and bright, framed by long lashes that hadn't been there seconds ago.

Then, it was still.

She stayed on her hands and knees, gasping for breath, chest rising and falling in time with the flickering candlelight. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t think of anything to say.

Rachel slowly pushed herself upright, strands of blonde hair falling over her shoulders, her new breasts jiggling slightly with the motion. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror across the room.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

The voice didn’t sound like her. It was huskier, sultrier.

She stood fully and glanced down at herself. Her arms moved automatically to cover her chest, then dropped again as if it didn’t matter. “I look like a damn porn star.”

You stepped forward. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, then shook her head. “I—I don’t know. This is so weird.” 

She hugged herself, her arms barely covering her new chest. 

You reached for a blanket and draped it over her shoulders. She pulled it around herself and gave you a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

She stepped closer, bare feet silent on the wood floor. Even her walk had changed. There was more sway in her hips, more bounce in her step. You didn’t think she was doing it on purpose.

“I still feel like me,” she said again, maybe more for her own sake than yours. Then she smirked. “Although... this body’s got some perks.”

You blushed as she stepped even closer and kissed you. Her lips felt softer, fuller. The kiss was tentative at first, but it deepened quickly, hunger bubbling just beneath the surface.

Your hand slid around her waist, then up, brushing across one of her new breasts.

She moaned softly into your mouth, then broke away.

“Jesus,” she whispered, breathless. “That felt… intense.”

 “Too much?” you asked quickly.

She shook her head. “No. Not bad. Just... wow. This body just feels alive.”

You went to pull her close again, but she gently stopped you with a hand to your chest.

“I want to,” she said. “God, do I want to. But I have to get ready for tomorrow. I can’t wear any of my clothes. Literally nothing is going to fit over this.”

She pulled the blanket tighter and turned toward your dresser mirror again. She watched herself, her expression hard to read.

“I’ll need to hit the mall early. Think they sell ‘bitchy new girl who’s too hot for this school’ outfits in bulk?”

You half-laughed. “Pretty sure that’s half the store at Forever 21.”

She smiled. Even with this new body and face, it was a Rachel smile. It was comforting to see something familiar about her.

Then she frowned down at herself, tugging at the blanket. “Okay, I can’t exactly walk home like this. Unless I want to get arrested.”

You opened your drawer and fished out an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Here.”

She slipped them on, thought the fit was laughable. The shirt clung like spandex across her chest, barely reaching her midriff. The waistband of the sweatpants had to be rolled down to fit her hips, and even then, they rode high, clinging to her new curves in a way they never had on you.

She glanced down at herself and snorted. “Well… it’s something.”

“Barely,” you said, trying not to stare.

She caught your eyes lingering on her chest. Her smile turned slightly smug, slightly playful.

“It’s okay to stare,” she said softly, stepping closer. “Tonight, anyway.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but she held up a hand.

“Tomorrow? You can’t. No looking, no talking. Not even a glance. Roxy doesn’t know you. And I have to ignore you.”

You nodded, throat tight. “Right.”

She glanced at the door, then back to you. “Let’s go over the plan one more time.”

You sat together on the edge of your bed, her voice low and firm even as her bare legs pressed against yours. “I get close to Alexis. Earn her trust to find something—texts, photos, gossip, anything—that can shut her down. Humiliate her or scare her off.”

She placed a hand on your chest. “Once I get the intel, we meet back up and you say the reversal spell using the second hair to change me back.”

“Got it,” you affirmed.

She paused. “Good.”

She leaned in and kissed you again, slower this time. “Wish me luck,” she whispered.

You swallowed. “Good luck.”

--------------------------------------------------

You barely heard a word your teacher said in first period.

You sat by the window but didn’t look out of it once. Your eyes kept drifting to the hallway beyond the classroom door, to your phone, to the folded piece of paper in your pocket with the reversal spell written out in your handwriting.

She’s okay. It’s fine. She said she’d be okay.

The bell rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. You packed up slowly, letting most of the class trickle out before you stepped into the corridor, scanning left, then right.

And then you saw her. She was down near the front office, standing beside the vice principal.

It was Rachel….or, right. Roxy. And she looked… wow.

Roxy wore a tight cropped white top that hugged her perfect new curves, with just the faintest lacy black bra showing underneath. Her high-waisted denim skirt was short, really short, and every inch of her legs was on display. She’d paired it with white platform sneakers and a tiny pink backpack slung over one shoulder. Her makeup was light but perfect. Her lips glossy, her lashes curled. Her long blonde hair caught the light as she laughed politely at something the VP said.

Standing beside her, smiling sweetly with just the right amount of smug, was Alexis.

You both knew she’d end up as Roxy’s assigned student guide. Alexis always volunteered for it. She loved pretending to be helpful, polished, and mature to the school staff. They bought her act hook, line, and sinker.  It allowed her to get away with almost anything.

You moved a little closer, joining the crowd of gawking students slowly realizing a bombshell had transferred into their class overnight. Roxy didn’t seem fazed by the attention. If anything… she stood straighter under it.

When Alexis and Roxy turned and began walking toward your side of the hallway, you caught yourself holding your breath.

You could see how Roxy’s hips swayed with every step. Everyone was watching her. Then she saw you.

Just for a second, her eyes locked onto yours. The corner of her mouth didn’t quite smile, but you recognized it. A quick look. A flicker of connection. A warning.

Don’t.

You got it. Even though it was hard, you said nothing. You just stood there, rooted to the floor, watching this impossibly hot girl walking toward you in a way that felt so unreal it almost hurt.

And that’s when Alexis noticed you staring. Alexis slowed her walk just enough to make a scene.

“Oh my god,” she said loudly, her voice dripping with performative disgust. “Are you seriously staring at her like you think you have a chance?”

A few people nearby turned. Some snickered. Alexis didn’t stop.

“I mean, look at you. You’re not even in the same species. She’s not gonna throw you a bone just because you’re panting like a sad little mutt.”

You didn’t answer. Your face burned.

Roxy laughed. It came out before she could stop it. An actual, spontaneous laugh. 

Then, realizing what she’d done, she blinked, hesitated for half a second, then leaned in toward Alexis with a smirk and laughed again. Louder. Meaner.

“God,” Roxy added, voice laced with fake sweetness, “this school is gonna be fun.”

Alexis practically beamed. “I told you,” she purred, looping her arm through Roxy’s as they turned down the next hall. “You’re gonna fit right in.”

--------------------------------------------------

You sat alone on the swings in the far corner of the park, under the broken lamp where it was always just dark enough. The same spot you and Rachel always sneak off to when you don’t want to be seen together. 

She stepped into the moonlight, her glossy lips reflected what little light there was to be seen.

“Hey,” she said, sitting on the swing beside you.

“Hey,” you replied.

She pushed gently off the ground, the chains creaking as she started to swing. “So… day one down. And guess what? I totally killed it.”

You looked over at her. “Yeah?”

She grinned. “Alexis introduced me to half the cheer squad by lunch. And I’m already in the group chat. I didn’t even have to ask.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “I sat with them at lunch. They asked me where I was from, what I’m into. I made up some dumb stuff.  So, my last school was a ‘fashion academy’ in New York, my dad’s some crypto guy who lives in Dubai. You know, believable bullshit.”

You smirked despite yourself. “And they bought it?”

“They ate it up. I was the hottest piece of gossip in school all day. Everyone wants to talk to me. Even the teachers were smiling at me. It’s like walking through a movie.”

You let the silence sit for a second. Then asked, “You didn’t think that outfit was a little much?”

She glanced down. “What, the skirt and crop top? It’s part of the act.”

She said it casually. Like she hadn’t spent the entire day with half her ass hanging out of her clothes.

“And the laugh?”

That changed her posture just a little and acted innocent. “What laugh?”

You turned to her, voice flat. “When Alexis humiliated me in front of half the school. You laughed.”

She sighed. “Oh… yeah. I guess I did.”

“You guess?”

“Okay, yeah. I did. But you were staring at me like I was about to crawl into your lap. It was obvious. Alexis noticed. I had to laugh. If I didn’t, she would’ve known something was up.”

You looked away. “It just… didn’t sound fake.”

Rachel bit her lip, then looked down at the mulch under her feet. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I was just caught up in the moment. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, though you still felt a bit sick about it.

She let out a breath and looked over at you. “But the good news is, she likes me. Like… I think she actually wants to be friends. Isn’t that crazy?”

You frowned. “That was the plan, right? Get close to her?”

“Yeah, but I thought it’d be harder. I thought I’d have to fake it more. But she’s… honestly kind of fun. Like, yeah, she’s a bitch, but she’s funny, too. She’s confident. I get why people orbit her.”

You said nothing.

Rachel must have noticed, because she reached over and gave your hand a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten why I’m doing this. I’m going to get everything we need to put an end to her bullying. Just a little longer, okay?”

You wanted to believe her. It was your girlfriend sitting next to you. You leaned in to kiss her. But just before your lips touched, she pulled back.

“Hey,” she said quickly, eyes wide. “No. I can’t.”

You blinked. “What? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“I know,” she said, voice quiet but firm. “But what if someone saw? Or followed me? Alexis is paranoid. She asks questions. I can’t risk her even thinking I know someone like you.”

You sat there confused and hurt. “Someone like me?”

She flinched. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She stood up. “I’m sorry. Really. But I have to go.”

You stood too, still processing. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll find a way to meet up. Same time. But until then, you can’t talk to me. You can’t look at me like we know each other. I’m just another Alexis groupie. Nothing more. You get that, right?”

You nodded. Slowly.

She gave you a quick smile and turned away, walking back down the path with a confident sway in her hips.

--------------------------------------------------

You were heading past the gym, hoping to avoid exactly what you were about to walk into. The door swung open just as you reached the corner and out walked Alexis.

Your body reacted before your mind could. Your shoulders tensed and you lowered your head, already bracing yourself for whatever she might throw your way. Typically it was an insult or a shove.  Sometimes it was something worse, especially when she had an audience.

But then you saw Rachel, no Roxy, walk out right beside Alexis. Your shoulders relaxed and your guard dropped.

She wore a pale pink crop top that barely covered her chest, high-rise athletic shorts, and spotless white sneakers. Legs toned and smooth, bouncing lightly with every step.

She looked like she belonged at Alexis’s side. But that was always the plan. It was just odd how comfortable she looked there.

You gave the faintest nod as you moved to step past them, head down, just trying to move on.

That’s when it happened. Roxy extended a foot and caught your ankle. You stumbled hard, books and papers spilling across the floor as you fell, your backpack twisting off your shoulder and hitting the tile with a slap.

Laughter erupted around you.

You blinked in confusion, still on the floor, and looked up at Roxy. She was laughing.

“Oh my god,” she said loudly, looking to Alexis, her voice pitched with mockery. “He drops harder than your GPA, Lex.”

Alexis howled. “You bitch! I love you!”

“I mean,” Roxy continued, stepping past your scattered books, “did he seriously not see that coming? Has he always had this much loser energy? It’s honestly kind of sad.”

You looked up at her, heart pounding, mind racing. The way she was behaving. She was either a great actress or something much worse was going on.

Alexis gave her a high five. “God, you’re fitting in so fast. I wish you would have moved here, like years ago.”

They walked off together, shoulders bumping as they laughed, disappearing down the hall.

You stayed there on the ground, surrounded by your things, feeling every pair of eyes on you.

--------------------------------------------------

She was late. 

You sat on the cold metal bench in the park, hood up, phone in your hand, thumb hovering over the screen.

You waited five more minutes. Then ten. You finally sent a message:

"Hey. You coming?"

It took longer than usual, but your phone buzzed.

"Can’t. I’m at Alexis’ place. Sleepover thing."

You stared at the text.

"You could’ve told me."

Another buzz.

"Didn’t plan on it. She invited me at the last minute."

"I shouldn’t even be texting you. If she saw this, she’d kill me."

That twist in your chest pulled tighter.

"You tripped me today. In front of everyone. And then laughed."

"Like… really laughed, Rach."

You watched the screen. A minute passed. Two.

"Yeah. I had to."

"She was watching."

"You know this is how the plan works."

"Don’t get all emotional. It was what needed to be done."

You clenched your jaw, fingers tightening around the phone.

"You don’t sound like you even feel bad."

Her reply was almost instant this time.

"I don’t have time to feel bad."

"You want me to get close to her or not?"

"This isn’t a game. If she catches me texting a loser like you, I’ll blow everything."

You reread it several times before typing:

"I miss you."

No response.

A few minutes later, another message appeared.

"Stop texting me."

"I’ll contact you when it’s safe."

That was the last message of the night.

--------------------------------------------------

You didn’t sleep.

You kept staring at the same text thread, hoping maybe she’d send something. Anything. Even just a one-word check-in. But nothing came. No reply last night. No “good morning.” No sign she even remembered your existence.

It had been nearly a full day since you’d heard from her, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

She said to wait. Said it had to be safe. But this didn’t feel safe. It felt like losing her.

You pulled the folded piece of paper with the spell from your drawer. You smoothed it flat on your desk. Her second strand of hair was still tucked inside, exactly where she’d told you to keep it.

Your hands were shaking when you typed the message:

"I’m doing the counterspell."

"Come to my place. I don’t want you changing back in front of Alexis."

"I’m doing it at noon."

You didn’t expect her to reply and she didn’t. But five minutes before noon, the front door slammed open.

She stormed in like a hurricane.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Her voice was sharp, furious, dripping with venom. She looked flawless, furious, hot as hell, and completely not Rachel.

You just stood there and watched.

“Do you have any idea what you’re about to ruin?” she shrieked. “I’ve spent days getting in good with Alexis! I’m this close, and you’re going to blow it all because you got your little feelings hurt?”

You tried to speak, but she kept going, pacing your room like she owned it.

“She loves me, okay? She trusts me. I’m one of them now. One of the girls. She talks to me about everything. You think that’s easy? You think I liked tripping you? Laughing at you? Do you have any idea what it took to sell that?”

She stopped and glared at you. You barely recognized her.

The way she stood. The way she loomed. She was taller now, more confident, maybe even  cocky. She didn’t just talk like Alexis. She moved like her. 

“I gave up everything to do this for you,” she spat. “And you’re going to undo all of it because you’re scared?”

You opened your mouth, quietly. “I’m scared because I think I’m losing you.”

She rolled her eyes. “God, you are so dramatic. I told you I’m still me.”

“Are you?” you asked.

Then her eyes narrowed into a sharp, glittering glare. She stepped closer, and the way she moved made your stomach twist. 

“I snuck over here,” she hissed. “Do you even get how risky that was? If Alexis saw me leave? If she followed me?”

Her voice was lower now. “I’ve been inside her house. In her inner circle. I’ve been sitting across from the girl who’s made your life hell. I’ve been laughing at her jokes, pretending she’s not a monster. All because you couldn’t stand up to her.”

You opened your mouth, but she was already charging ahead.

“And I’ve done all of that for you.”

She jabbed a perfectly manicured finger into your chest. 

“For you. Because you couldn’t stand up to her. Because you flinched every time she looked at you. I became the girl she wanted around so we could finally make her pay.”

Her voice cracked for just a second, but the venom stayed sharp.

“And now, you’re going to ruin all of it? Because you’re feeling a little insecure? Because you didn’t like that I laughed a little too hard?”

She stepped back, looking at you with a mix of disappointment and disgust. “God, you’re pathetic.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

You felt small. You second guessed yourself. Did you betray her somehow, for daring to question this plan you never even wanted in the first place.

She tilted her head, softened her eyes.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said gently, stepping closer. “I’m sorry. I’m just… stressed. This whole thing is exhausting.”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t move away.

She was closer now, her chest brushing yours. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “I do miss you. You know that, right?”

Her fingers slid up your chest, curling into your shirt.

“This body,” she murmured, pressing her hips against yours, “it’s been aching for you. She’s not a friend. She’s not my boyfriend. We don’t talk like you and I do.”

You felt her breath on your neck, hot and sweet.

“I’m still yours, babe,” she whispered, and then kissed you. It was a deep, hard kiss.

Her lips were soft, perfect, hungry. She kissed like a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. Her hands slid around your waist, her body molding to yours.

For a second, it was easy to forget everything. She felt so good up against you. She leaned into you and you bumped against the desk, breaking the moment.

She pulled away slowly, her lips still glossy from the kiss, her body pressed just enough against yours to keep your thoughts tangled. Her breath was steady now, not angry anymore.

“I have a deal for you,” she murmured, dragging her nails lightly across your chest. “Twenty-four hours,” she said. “Give me that much. I can finish this. I’m so close.”

You blinked. “Rachel….”

She silenced you with a finger against your lips. “Let me do this. Just one more day. And then… whatever happens after that, if you still want to end it, I won’t stop you.”

You hesitated. Everything in you screamed this was a bad idea. But the way she was looking at you now, so calm, so confident… it made you feel like she could do it.

“Twenty-four hours,” you said quietly. “That’s it.”

She smiled wide, but it didn't look like Rachel's smile.

“See?” she whispered. “You do still trust me.”

Then she turned, her perfect blonde ponytail swishing behind her as she made her way to the door. Her hips had that practiced sway again. She looked back once, gave you a wink, and then she was gone.

--------------------------------------------------

You tried to keep your word. You really did.

All day, you watched the clock. You stayed busy. Cleaned your room twice. Walked aimlessly through the neighborhood. Opened the spellbook, closed it, opened it again. The hair was still where you left it, folded inside the page. Waiting.

But by nightfall, the silence had grown too loud.

No messages. No check-ins. No “almost done.”

Just nothing.

You told yourself she was keeping her promise. That she was still playing the part. That she couldn’t risk blowing her cover now, not this close.

But the hours kept slipping by, and your thoughts twisted in on themselves until you couldn’t breathe through them anymore.

That’s when you opened the app.

You and Rachel shared your location with an app for late-night walks, missed buses, emergency rides. It was meant for peace of mind.

Her dot hovered in a part of town you didn’t recognize. Not the school. Not Alexis’s place. It was a house you’d never seen before.

You told yourself you’d just check. Just drive by. Just see.

--------------------------------------------------

It was a two-story place on the edge of a cul-de-sac. Lights on. Music drifting faintly out of a cracked-open upstairs window. A few cars out front. A party, maybe. 

You parked two streets over and walked the rest, heart pounding harder with every step.

You made your way around the back. The warm glow of bedroom lights spilling out from sheer curtains on the second floor.

You spotted a trellis along the side of the house and climbed it.  You were too far in to stop now. You gripped the window frame. The curtains were parted just enough to see.

And there she was. Roxy was straddling some guy on the bed.

She was topless. Her hips were moving slowly, rhythmically as the ground into him. She bent down and kissed him hard and deep. His hands were on her ass, pulling her tighter against him. Hers were in his hair, tugging. Laughing.

You didn’t want to watch. But your eyes wouldn’t leave her.

Her back arched in the soft light, her golden hair spilling down like silk across her bare shoulders. The guy beneath her murmured something, and she giggled.

She leaned down, pressing herself fully against him, her hands on either side of his face as she kissed him again. His fingers curled at the waistband of her panties and tugged. She didn’t stop him. She lifted her hips, letting him slide them down.

You stopped watching then. You've seen enough.  You're getting your girlfriend back…tonight.

--------------------------------------------------

You hit the ground hard, stumbling to your feet with your heart racing and your thoughts in pieces. You had just watched Rachel half-naked, straddling another guy. Having sex with another guy.

You reached into your jacket pocket, gripping the folded spell page and her strand of hair. You could still do it. You had to. This wasn’t her. Not really. The spell was consuming her, but if you acted fast enough…

“Well, well, well…”

Your blood froze as you slowly turned around.  You knew that voice. It was Alexis.

She stepped into view from behind the side of the house, arms crossed under her chest, looking down at you like she’d just found a bug under her shoe. Her smirk widened as she took in the fact that you were climbing down from some stranger’s window.

“Oh my god,” she laughed. “Were you seriously up there watching? That’s so fucking gross.”

“I wasn’t—no, I—”

“Spare me, creep,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Jesus. What is it with nerdy losers and stalking hot girls? Is this, like, some fetish thing? “News flash, creeper. Roxy’s not interested in desperate little dweebs who stalk her in the middle of the night.”

You backed up a step, trying to find words, but your mouth was dry.

“I should absolutely call the cops on you right now,” she continued, voice raised and theatrical. “God, Roxy’s gonna die when she sees what kind of freak snuck into the yard.”

Then she turned her head toward the open back door. “Roxy!” she yelled. “Get down here! Some freak was spying on you!”

You tried to run, but some guy came up from behind and grabbed you.  You struggled in his grasp.

Alexis looked back at you and rolled her eyes. “She’s going to tear you a new asshole, loser.”

The sliding door opened and out came Roxy. She was wearing a dress that it looked like she just threw on. Her legs bare, her hair messy, makeup a little smudged. She looked irked being pulled out of a moment she was fully enjoying.

Her eyes fell on you and then narrowed.

“Check it out,” Alexis said brightly. “This perv was up at your window. I think he was jerking off.”

You saw the flicker in Roxy’s eyes. She walked right up to you, eyes cool, lips pulled into a smirk you’d never seen from her before this week.

“You know,” she said lightly, her voice all sugar and poison, “I’ve seen this one around campus. I always see him looking at me and then acting like he’s not.”

She was enjoying the power, enjoying making you small.

“I guess he just couldn’t help himself,” she said sweetly. “Poor thing. Do you want to kiss a girl like me? Have sex with a girl like me?”

She turned her back to you and casually strolled toward Alexis.

“I mean, I get it,” she added over her shoulder. “Who wouldn’t want a taste?”

Alexis lost it, laughing hard and high-pitched. “Bitch! You are savage.”

Roxy just grinned and tossed her hair. “What can I say? Some guys just don’t know when they’re out of their league.”

Then, casually, she looked back toward the open sliding door where the guy from earlier stood in the frame, shirtless, broad-shouldered, watching.

“Hey, babe,” she called, tilting her head toward you. “Would you mind taking out the trash?”

He stepped forward immediately, his jaw clenched, hands balling into fists like he didn’t need to ask twice. He was coming straight for you.

You took a step back and pulled the paper from your pocket. It was the spell with her hair, bound in the center. That made Roxy react. The guy was halfway to you when she lifted a hand.

“Wait,” she said, voice still calm, but sharp. “Hold off.”

He stopped and stood there confused at her change of mind.

“Don’t do this,” she said to you. “You don’t know what’ll happen if you cast that.”

You didn’t respond, instead your grip on the paper tightened.

“You think you’re saving me, but I don’t need saving. It’s all under control,” she said pleadingly.

Your heart pounded in your chest.  You stepped back a few paces. She took one step forward, slow and careful, like you were something skittish that might bolt.

Alexis frowned. “Roxy? What the hell’s going on?”

One of the guys behind her, the one who had his hands all over her an hour ago, muttered, “Who even is this dude?”

Roxy ignored them.

You unfolded the spell, hands shaking. Her hair glinted in the low light as it fluttered in the page’s crease. You looked down at the words, steadying your breath. Then you began to speak the words.

“Is this guy speaking in tongues,” Alexis quipped. 

You continued to speak the spell.  You had to get Rachel back. You kept chanting. Your voice was growing stronger.

“Oh my god,” she said, grinning wide, her voice echoing across the yard. “You actually think you can fix this?”

Alexis looked between the two of you, stunned. “Roxy… what the fuck is happening right now?”

But you weren’t listening anymore. You didn’t need to. Because the spell was reaching its end.

You finished the last word. You held the folded paper up in trembling hands, her hair pressed tightly inside. And then… nothing. Roxy just stood there with her arms crossed, a smug smirk on her face. Her glossy lips curled in satisfaction.

You waited. One second. Two.

The first time, it had been immediate. The transformation had ripped through her. You remembered the gasp, the shift, the way her body bent and swelled under the weight of the magic.

Roxy laughed a sharp, bitter, biting laugh that cut through the night like glass.

Your throat went dry. “I… it should’ve worked,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Roxy cooed, stepping toward you, “it worked perfectly.”

That’s when you heard it. A sharp gasp behind you. A high, startled squeal.

Alexis staggered back, clutching at her chest. 

“What the fuck—” she shrieked.

You watched her body start to shrink. Her chest shrank, breasts pulling inward, her figure deflating as her curves melted away. Her tight shorts sagged as her hips narrowed, legs thinning into a pale, awkward set of limbs.

She looked around, desperate for someone to stop it. Her mascara streaked down her cheeks. Her friends were backing away now, whispering. One of the guys turned and walked off like he didn’t even know her.

She blinked, confused, her hands flying to her face. “No… no no no, what’s…what’s happening to me?!”   Her voice sounded cracked and warped

Her platinum hair dulled to a muddy brown. The shine was gone. Everything was gone.

She looked like a scared, shy freshman now. Her shoulders were hunched and her designer clothes hung her body. 

You turned back to Roxy. She was howling with laughter now, arms crossed under her full chest, shaking her head in delight. Her lips parted in a devious smirk.

“God, I love when a plan comes together,” she said, biting her lip.

Horror settled like lead in your chest.

“I… I had your hair…”

Roxy gave you a mocking, pitying look. “No, babe. You had her hair.”

You stood in sudden realization. The kiss from this morning.  She’d pressed herself against you, not in love or attraction. She’d gotten close to distract you.

“You swapped it,” you whispered. “You switched the hair.”

“Mmmhmm,” she purred, brushing imaginary lint off her bare shoulder. “Slipped Alexis’s precious little platinum strand right into your grand rescue plan.”

She gestured lazily toward the girl now curled on the grass, sobbing quietly, her knees drawn to her chest. No one was helping her.

“And now look at her,” Roxy said sweetly. “No tits. No spine. Just another loser...like you.”

You looked over at Alexis, what was left of her, rocking on the lawn like a scared, forgotten child. She didn’t even look up. Her hands clutched at her now-loose clothing, trying to hold onto some shred of dignity, but the tears running down her cheeks betrayed her.

“She’s me,” you whispered, barely able to hear yourself over the pounding in your ears.

Roxy just grinned.

“No, babe. She’s worse.” Her voice was honeyed poison. “Unlike you, she’ll remember what it was like to be on top. To be admired. To matter. And now? She gets to live the rest of her life… like this.”

She stepped closer, the scent of warm vanilla flooding your senses. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely a breath.

“I get to stay exactly like this,” she whispered. “And you get to spend the rest of your life wondering what the hell happened. So what are you going to do now? Still going to try to save me?”

She waited and watched you for just a few moments. Then Roxy’s smile widened, cruel and perfect.

“That’s what I thought,” she said.

Then she turned her back to you. She waved lazily to the guy still watching from the doorway. “Let’s go back upstairs, babe. I’ve got better things to do than deal with losers like them.”

He followed like a dog on a leash.

[rylem33]

Nothing Left

The bathroom door creaked open.

“Jules?” Frank’s voice filtered in from the hallway. “You’re up early.”

Julia whipped around, clutching the towel tighter around her chest. Her heart jumped. “Frank, wait—”

He stepped into the doorway and froze.

His eyes locked on her. Blinked. Then blinked again.

Standing in the soft bathroom light was a girl—no, a woman—but barely. Long platinum-blonde hair hung over one shoulder, straight and glossy. Her skin practically glowed, poreless and dewy. Her waist was narrow, her arms smooth and firm, and the high-cut black bodysuit she wore hugged her like a second skin.

“What the hell?” Frank finally breathed.

She exhaled, eyes wide. “Don’t panic. I can explain. Sort of.”

He stepped back half a pace, scanning her face, her body, like his brain refused to connect the two. “Who are you?” he asked. “Where’s my—what the fuck is this?”

“It’s me, Frank. It’s Julia.”

He stared like she was a stranger who had just stepped out of a dream—or a nightmare.

She took a slow step forward. “Please. Look at my eyes. Listen to me. It’s me. I swear to God.”

His gaze lingered on her face—her younger, tighter, untouched face—then flicked lower, almost involuntarily, before yanking itself back.

Julia gave a nervous laugh. “I know. Believe me, I know. It’s insane. I woke up like this an hour ago.”

Frank sank onto the toilet lid like the air had been knocked out of him. “Jesus, Julia.”

“I know.”

The room was silent except for the soft hum of the bathroom fan.

“I stopped into that new place yesterday,” she finally said, wrapping the towel tighter around her hips. “Mystic Currents. You know, that weird little crystal shop near the wine bar.”

Frank barely nodded.

“They had this pouch of stones or something. The woman said it would help me ‘feel young again.’ I thought she meant, like, emotionally. I wasn’t expecting to literally rewind twenty-five years.”

He stared, unmoving.

Julia rubbed her arm. “Madison’s gone. The house is so empty. I almost felt like I had nothing left and I guess I just wanted to feel something again. Not like some forgotten forty-five-year-old woman... eating leftovers with her husband and watching reruns every night.”

Frank’s eyes finally met hers. That same softness was still there. Doubtful, but present.

“I don’t feel sick,” she said. “Or anything. I kind of feel good. No more achy joints.”

He looked her over one more time, more gently this time. “You sound different, but you talk like you.”

“I am me.”

He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “This is... a lot.”

“No shit.”

“What do we do?”

She gave him a look, finally letting herself smirk, just a little. “For now?”

She turned toward the hallway.

“Coffee.”

–--------------------------

The crop top clung just right, loose around the sleeves but cropped enough to show a perfect sliver of toned stomach. The jeans hugged her hips like they’d been vacuum-sealed on.

Julia tugged at the waistband. “God, these are tight.”

Frank stood in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression.

“They’re the only thing that fits,” she said. “Unless you want me walking around in a bathrobe.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. No, I just…yeah. You look…”

Julia arched an eyebrow. “Don’t say it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he muttered, grabbing the car keys.

She followed him, slipping on a pair of low-profile sneakers Madison had abandoned in the hall closet.

The car ride was awkward. Quiet. Frank fiddled with the radio, finally settling on something soft and instrumental to just fill the silence.

The grocery store was busy. Sunday afternoon crowds, people pushing carts filled with soda and snacks and whatever the hell “protein water” was. Julia stuck close to Frank as they passed the produce section.

Julia stayed close as they passed the produce section, her hips swaying casually as she walked just ahead.

“Grab the cherry tomatoes,” he said, reaching for a bag of romaine.

“Already got them.” Julia spun around and dropped the container into the cart, flashing a smile. “We’re like... the most efficient couple ever.”  She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

But Frank didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on something just past her.

She turned and saw a man in his fifties openly staring at her from behind a stack of cantaloupes. He wasn’t even subtle about it.

“Oh,” Julia said, finally connecting the dots.

Frank looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin.

“They think I’m way too young for you,” she stopped.

He nodded once, tightly.

Julia took a small step back, putting distance between them in the aisle. “Wow.”

“I didn’t think—” he started, then shook his head. “I mean, I should’ve thought. I just didn’t realize how…”

“Convincing?” she offered dryly, already reaching for a bottle of vinaigrette. “So, what, I’m grounded now?”

Frank rubbed his temples. “We can’t do this.”

“What, grocery shopping?”

He leaned in, whispering like someone might overhear. “Not like this. People are looking at me like I’m a pervert. Like I brought my side piece to buy arugula.”

Julia smirked. “Sexy.”

Frank glared and lowered his voice. “From now on… in public… let’s just say you’re my daughter. Temporarily. Until we figure this out.”

Julia’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to pretend to be Madison?”

“Not her. Just... a daughter. Mine. People don’t ask questions that way.”

Julia winced. “Okay, yeah. I get it,” she said with mock surrender. “You want to play it safe? I’ll be the doting daughter.” She batted her lashes. “But if you call me kiddo, I’m slapping you in the dairy aisle.”

He sighed. “Deal.”

Julia waited until they turned down the next aisle. Then, loud and chipper: “Dad, can we not get skim milk again? That stuff tastes like regret.”

Frank flinched. “Julia—”

“What?” she chirped. “You always say I should be more assertive. I’m being assertive. You’re welcome, old man.”

A nearby woman chuckled, tossing bananas into her cart.

Julia leaned in, voice low. “Told you. Way better than creeper stares.”

He turned down the next aisle without a word. Julia skipped a little to catch up, grabbing a box of cereal and tossing it into the cart. “Ooh, I want this one. Madison and I used to eat it every morning before school.”

“You hated that cereal,” Frank muttered.

“I know,” she whispered back, grinning. “But I’m roleplaying, remember?”

She widened her eyes as they approached a woman with a toddler in her cart. “Daaad, can I pleeeease get that lip gloss we saw near checkout? My lips are, like, so dry today.”

The woman looked up, smiled at Frank, then back at Julia. “She’s adorable.”

Frank forced a smile through clenched teeth. “Yeah. Adorable.”

Julia winked. “Best dad ever.”

Checkout went quick, the teen cashier barely lifting his eyes until Julia chirped, “Thanks, Dad!” while yanking bags off the carousel.

In the car, she slid into the passenger seat and stretched out, arms overhead. The crop top rode up again. Frank gripped the wheel harder.

“So,” she said, flashing him a sideways look, “scale of one to publicly humiliated, how’d I do?”

“You enjoyed that way too much.”

“I was helping,” she said sweetly. “Now no one thinks you’re banging someone who wasn’t alive for Y2K.”

Frank groaned. “Thanks.”

Julia leaned her head against the window, smirking. “Anytime, Daddy.”

He groaned louder this time.

------------------------------------

Frank dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen island with a heavy sigh.

Julia came in behind him, still grinning from their bizarre trip. “Well, that was fun.”

He shot her a look. “You harassed me.”

She leaned against the counter, arms folded under her chest, pushing her breasts up just enough to notice. She didn’t do it on purpose. Not exactly.

“I was helping,” she said, biting her lower lip slightly. “Didn’t want people thinking you were a dirty old man.”

Frank busied himself unpacking lettuce like it might save him. “Thanks, I guess.”

Julia took a slow step forward. “You really can’t even look at me now?”

He froze. “It’s not that.”

“You keep acting like I’m a stranger.”

Frank turned to her, eyes heavy. “You look like a college freshman, Julia. I’m trying not to lose my goddamn mind.”

She stepped closer, her voice quieter now. “But I’m not a stranger. I’m still your wife.”

“I know that.”

“I still love you.” She reached for his hand, guiding it to her waist. “I still want you.”

Frank’s jaw clenched. “This feels wrong.”

Her body pressed into his. The heat was unmistakable now. Her skin practically hummed. “But it doesn’t feel wrong, does it?”

He groaned softly as her lips brushed his jaw.

“I’m not some teenager,” she whispered. “I’m a forty-five-year-old woman in a body that wants to be touched.”

She kissed him and when he didn’t stop her they kissed again, deeper this time, hungrier.

Clothes hit the floor in messy piles. The kitchen was too exposed, so she pulled him down the hallway, laughing breathlessly, until they crashed onto the bed.

“I’ve missed this,” she said, straddling him, her hair falling forward. “I’ve missed you.”

His hands found her hips. His breath was ragged.

Julia leaned down, her lips grazing his ear. “Do you want me?” she whispered.

“God, yes.”

She rocked her hips forward, a soft moan escaping her throat. She felt alive, wired, needy in a way she hadn’t felt in decades.

And as he thrust into her, she grabbed the headboard, her voice high and breathy.

“Fuck me, Daddy.”

Frank froze mid-motion.

Julia’s eyes widened. She hadn’t meant to say that, but the word had slipped out so naturally. So easily.

Frank stared at her, stunned. “What did you just…” His eyes searched hers like he needed something.

She buried her face into his neck. “God, Frank... I’ve missed this.”

He groaned, rolling them over, pressing her back into the sheets. Their bodies moved faster now, matching each other’s urgency, her legs wrapped tight around his waist.

It had been months. Too long. Too many quiet nights where they barely touched. Too many days of distance. Now she felt his need, his hunger, his love—twisted up with confusion and desperation—but still love.

She moaned louder, her fingers clawing at his back. “Yes... yes...”

Frank’s rhythm faltered for a second, overwhelmed. She pulled him back in.

“Harder,” she gasped. “Fuck me harder.”

He obeyed.

Her back arched off the bed as she came—tight, trembling, intense. The orgasm hit her so hard she nearly sobbed. “F-Frank... oh fuck—”

He followed seconds later, groaning against her skin, collapsing onto her with a shudder.

They lay tangled together, catching their breath. His head rested on her chest, rising and falling with each rapid heartbeat.

“I love you,” she said, stroking his hair. “I know this is weird. I know it doesn’t make sense. But know that I love you.”

Frank didn’t move. “I love you too.”

-------------------------------------

Frank sipped his coffee, eyes fixed on the backyard through the kitchen window like it might offer a distraction. But it didn’t.

Julia padded in, hips swaying with every step, wearing a tight olive-green crop top that hugged her curves and framed her cleavage like it was on display. The shirt barely touched the waist of her low-cut shorts, leaving her pierced bellybutton exposed and glinting in the kitchen light.

She leaned against the counter, head tilted, lips curling up in a half-smirk. “Morning, old man.”

Frank didn’t look.

She walked over and pressed a kiss to his temple, then slid into the seat across from him like she didn’t notice how his jaw tightened.

He finally glanced up, then looked away just as quickly. “That’s what you’re wearing today?”

Julia grinned, grabbing a piece of fruit from the bowl on the table. “Why not? It’s cute. Comfortable.”

“You’re half-naked.”

“I’m wearing shorts,” she said, stretching out one leg lazily across his lap. “It’s not my fault I’ve got great legs again.”

Frank didn’t say anything.

She leaned forward, elbows on the table, tank top dipping just enough to make his eyes dart there and then back to his mug. She smirked.

“You’re really going to pretend last night didn’t happen?” she asked, voice low and teasing.

“I’m not pretending anything.”

Julia twirled a lock of her hair. “Because I remember. I remember you not being able to keep your hands off me. Begging me, basically.”

Frank finally met her gaze, brow furrowed. “I didn’t beg.”

“Mm, sure. Pretty close though,” she said, biting her lip with an exaggerated wink. “It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

He stood abruptly, taking his coffee to the sink. “Julia—”

“I mean, I’ve never come that hard before. Have you?”

“Jesus.” He stood abruptly, taking his cup to the sink just to get away from her.

She laughed, leaning back in the chair, clearly entertained by how flustered he was. “Relax. I’m not gonna jump you at the grocery store.”

Frank turned around slowly. “You’re acting... different.”

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Am I? Maybe. I feel good. Like—really good.”

“Cocky.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so now I’m not allowed to feel sexy?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I said.”

She stood, taking two slow steps until her body brushed against his. Her hands came to rest lightly on his chest. Her voice softened slightly.

“It’s still me, Frank. I’m just... trying this version of me on for size.”

He gave her a long look. “Just don’t forget who you are.”

Julia smiled. “How could I? You keep reminding me.”

------------------------------

Ten minutes after being seated on the shaded patio of a trendy café, Julia had already made herself the center of attention.

She sat across from Frank in a deep-cut black top with silver buttons that didn’t quite hide how much skin she was showing. 

When the waiter came over, no older than twenty-two, she smiled up at him like he was dessert.

“I’ll take the kale salad,” she said sweetly, then glanced over at Frank. “And whatever my dad wants.”

The waiter blinked, looked at Frank, then quickly back down at his notepad. “Of course.”

Julia waited until he walked off before turning back with a grin. “See? Totally bought it.”

Frank didn’t respond.

She sipped her iced tea through a straw, the ice clinking softly. “So what now, Dad? We eat, pretend we’re having some nice father-daughter bonding, and then you go back to silently freaking out while I sunbathe in Madison’s bikini?”

“Julia,” he muttered, barely audible. “Don’t push it.”

She leaned forward, cleavage suddenly dominating his line of sight. “But it’s fun,” she whispered. “And you’re the one who said we should play it safe in public.”

“Safe doesn’t mean seductive.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody here thinks you’re banging your ‘daughter.’ They just think you’re lucky to be seated near me.”

Frank groaned.

A couple seated nearby looked over. Julia caught it, then spoke louder. “Dad, do you remember how I said I was going to major in gender studies? That’s still happening. You don’t get to guilt me into econ again just because you think it’s more ‘practical.’”

The woman at the other table smiled at Frank with mild sympathy.

Frank forced a tight nod, then focused on his water glass like it might transport him away.

When the waiter returned with their drinks, Julia toyed with the straw again, glancing sideways at the young man’s arms as he leaned over to set the plates down.

As he walked away, she murmured, “I wonder if he’d call me Daddy.”

Frank coughed into his napkin.

“Julia.”

“What?” she asked, eyes wide with fake innocence. “I’m just observing the menu.”

Frank leaned in, voice low and sharp. “Turn it down.”

But she wasn’t listening. She stretched one leg out under the table until her foot brushed his shin. Then it slid up, higher, until it reached his knee.

Frank flinched. “Julia—”

She leaned back in her seat, still smiling, still playing the part of a perfect daughter to anyone watching. “Careful, Daddy. You’re drawing attention.”

He grabbed the check the moment it landed and dropped his card on it without a word.

Julia leaned over the table, eyes twinkling. “You’re such a gentleman. Buying lunch for your favorite little girl.”

“Stop.”

“Make me.”

He stood so quickly his chair scraped across the tile.

Julia stayed seated, slowly standing only once she’d adjusted her top and fixed her hair in the reflection of her phone screen.

“You didn’t even touch your sandwich,” he muttered.

“I got what I needed,” she said with a wink, trailing behind him.

----------------------------

The front door slammed behind them.

Frank tossed the bag of hardware on the kitchen counter and turned on her in the same breath. “What the hell was that, Julia?”

She was already halfway out of her sneakers, one hip cocked, that infuriating smirk still lingering on her lips. “What? I was just playing along.”

“You were pushing it,” he snapped. “You were groping me in public.”

She rolled her eyes. “No one saw.”

“That’s not the point!”

Julia crossed her arms, the tank top rising slightly, exposing a sliver of toned stomach. “So now I’m not even allowed to flirt with my own husband?”

He threw up his hands. “You weren’t flirting, Julia. You were acting like some bratty little…”

“Daughter?” she interrupted, eyebrow raised. “That’s what you told me to be, Daddy.”

His eyes darkened.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Oh, but you didn’t seem to mind when I was screaming it last night.” She stepped closer, toe to toe now. “Or did I misread how hard you were…”

“Julia!” he barked, his voice echoing through the house.

She stopped. Her smile faded, just slightly. The energy in the room shifted.

Frank took a step back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t you. You don’t act like this.”

Her voice came out quieter. “I’m just... having fun.”

“Well, you might be.” He looked up at her, tired and confused. “But I’m not.”

Julia’s mouth opened like she wanted to argue but then closed again.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally in a quiet voice. But even as she said it, her arms stayed crossed defiantly.

Frank saw it. “Are you?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she turned, walking toward the stairs. “I’m going to shower,” she said flatly.

---------------------------

The television buzzed low in the background—some documentary Frank wasn’t really following. His eyes flicked over it but never landed. He was tense, jaw clenched, one leg bouncing. He kept replaying the afternoon over and over. The way Julia had smiled. The way she’d touched him in public, in front of people. Strangers.

What if someone recognized her?

What if someone recognized him?

He took a deep breath and tried to let the noise of the television drown it all out.

Footsteps padded across the hardwood behind him.

“Frank?” Julia’s voice floated gently from the hall. “Can we talk?”

He didn’t look right away. “Yeah.”

“I’m really sorry... about earlier. Lunch. The teasing. I pushed it way too far.”

Frank nodded slowly, still watching the screen. “You did. But I get it. You’re going through something... I don’t know. Intense. It’s okay.”

“Frank,” she said softly.

He turned his head and froze.

Julia stood in the doorway in full lingerie. It was sheer pink with floral lace hugging every inch of her nineteen year old body. Her blonde hair was loose and curled, draped over one shoulder. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes locked on his like she already knew the answer she wanted.

A smirk curved at the corner of her mouth.

“I’ve been a bad girl, Daddy,” she purred, stepping slowly into the room. “Maybe you should punish me.”

Frank’s breath caught.

“Julia—”

She twirled once, hands sliding into her hair, her body arched to full effect. When she turned back around, her eyes sparkled. “I think you should spank me. Right here. I need it.”

Frank stood up abruptly.

“No,” he said, sharp and immediate. “Stop.”

Julia’s flirty smile faltered, just for a second.

“This isn’t funny anymore,” he continued. “I don’t know what this is turning into, but it’s not us.”

Julia blinked, her bravado slipping just a touch. “I thought… you liked it.”

He stared at her. “I don’t even think you know what you’re doing anymore.”

The documentary murmured on behind them.

Julia stepped forward again, voice softer now, desperate to find footing. “Look at me, Frank. Please.”

He did. Slowly. Just for a second.

“I’m still me,” she murmured. Her hand landed on his chest, delicate and trembling. “I’m your wife. I need you.”

He exhaled, but didn’t move.

She kissed his neck, lips soft and slow. Her hand drifted lower, across his stomach, fingers trailing meaningfully toward his waistband. “Please,” she whispered. “I feel like I’m going to explode. I ache.”

Frank didn’t react.

“Julia,” he said flatly. “Not tonight.”

She blinked up at him, eyes tightening. “You don’t want me?”

He finally looked at her, this impossibly young, gorgeous girl in lace lingerie, dripping with lust and confidence and the faintest whiff of panic.

And he shook his head.

“I can’t right now,” he said. “I’m not a teenager. I’m not wired like you are now. I’m not going to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Her hand dropped and they stood in silence.

Then she stepped back, her voice brittle. “You’re not even going to try?”

“I’m tired, Julia,” he muttered. “And honestly? I’m still pretty upset.”

She clenched her jaw, shoulders rising as the heat built back in her.

“Fine,” she spat, turning on her heel. “Enjoy your fucking documentary.”

She stormed off down the hall, the sway of her hips now stiff with anger instead of seduction.

The bedroom door slammed.

---------------------------------

Frank moved quietly through the bedroom, the velvet pouch cradled in his hand. The house still smelled faintly of lavender shampoo and steam. Julia had been in the shower for nearly half an hour.

Good. He needed the time.

He slid the pouch beneath the pillow. The soft clink of crystals touching inside the cloth made his heart skip.

“Got these from the same store,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “The clerk said they’d help ‘realign’ you. Body and mind.”

He straightened the pillow and sat on the edge of the bed for a second.

“This’ll fix it,” he whispered. “Get my wife back. My real wife.”

The bathroom door creaked open behind him, steam billowing out like a cloud.

Frank jumped up too fast, trying to look casual as Julia stepped out, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Her long, damp hair clung to her collarbones. Her long, tan, youthful legs carried her across the hall without so much as a glance.

She paused in the doorway. “Why are you here?” she muttered. “Thought you’d be back downstairs with your boring-ass shows.”

Frank said nothing. Just nodded, eyes cast away, heart pounding like a thief caught mid-act.

Julia rolled her eyes and disappeared down the hall toward their daughter’s room, presumably to get clothes, towel swishing behind her. The door slammed shut a second later.

Frank let out the breath he’d been holding.

She didn’t notice.

He turned back to the pillow with the hidden pouch beneath.

“Tomorrow,” he said under his breath. “Tomorrow you’ll wake up, and all of this will be over.”

--------------------------------

The door eased open with a soft creak.

Frank looked up from the glow of his phone.

Julia stood there in the dim light, wearing nothing but one of Madison’s old Lakers crop tees and a barely-there black thong. The shirt was lifted halfway up her chest showing off her toned stomach.

She padded in, bare feet light on the hardwood, and climbed into bed without a word.

Frank watched her in silence as she tugged the sheets over her hips, turning to face him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice low and calm.

Frank blinked. “For what?”

“I know I’ve been... a lot,” she said. “Moody. Sharp. A little unhinged.”

He reached for her hand under the blanket. “It’s okay.”

“No, really.” She looked at him, her expression softer now. “It’s this body, Frank. Everything’s just... so intense. The hormones are like jet fuel. I cry, then I’m laughing, then I’m so turned on I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m on a rollercoaster with no brakes.”

He let out a faint laugh. “Well... at least you’re aware.”

She smiled at him and then scooted closer, pressing her warm, nearly naked body against his.

Their lips met. Soft at first. Then deeper.

Frank’s hand slid along the small of her back, then up her bare side. Her skin felt impossibly smooth. She climbed on top of him slowly, straddling his hips, her shirt bunching higher as she leaned down and kissed his jaw.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she whispered into his ear. “I just want you.”

Her hips moved against him, and he groaned beneath her. She guided him in, breath hitching as her body welcomed his.

“God, Frank…” she moaned, rolling her hips slowly. “You feel so fucking good.”

Their bodies moved together, steady and slick with heat. Her hair cascaded around them as she rode him harder, her moans rising in pitch.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

She grabbed the headboard, bouncing against him now, eyes half-lidded and mouth open.

Frank’s hands dug into her thighs as he tried to keep up. Her energy was relentless.

“Harder,” she whimpered. “God, you feel amazing inside this tight little body. I’m dripping for you.”

His breath caught. “Julia—”

But she cut him off, her voice now filthy, feral, and loud.

“Use me. Use your hot little nineteen-year-old slut.”

Frank faltered but she kept grinding.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” she screamed, head thrown back. “Show me what you do to your little girl when she gets like this.”

She came hard, legs tightening around him, trembling as she moaned and swore into his neck.

Frank finished seconds later, hands gripping her waist as he gasped for breath beneath her.

The room fell quiet. Just the sound of their breathing. The faint rustle of cooling sheets.

Julia collapsed against his chest, her lips swollen, her body still twitching with aftershocks.

“Mmm,” she purred. “That was so much better than last night.”

Frank stared at the ceiling, chest still heaving.

It’s going to be okay, he told himself.

Tomorrow, everything will be okay.

--------------------------------------

Frank stirred first, blinking at the ceiling before slowly turning toward her side of the bed.

Julia was there, but she still looked the same.  Still looked nineteen. Frank’s heart sank.

The crystals didn’t work.

He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. He could see that the pouch was still under her pillow. A useless hope without real magic to help.

He looked at her again. God, she was beautiful. But he didn’t know how to make this work. She was the same age as his daughter!

Then Julia stirred and opened her eyes. She rolled toward him, blanket slipping down her bare shoulder. But instead of a smile, she looked at him with a cold stare.

Frank offered a tired, cautious smile. “Morning.”

Her brow furrowed. “Ugh.”

He blinked. “What?”

Julia sat up, slowly, letting the sheet fall down to her waist. 

“Don’t you have... like... a shirt or something?” she asked, her nose wrinkling. “Seriously, I can see your chest hair. Gross.”

Frank’s stomach dropped.

“Julia?” he said, voice low. “Are you okay?”

She gave him a look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You remember last night?”

“I remember some of it,” she muttered, standing up and grabbing one of Madison’s hoodies from the floor. She slid it over her head, avoiding his gaze. “Mostly I remember being way too horny and making a huge mistake.”

Frank stood up, stunned. “Mistake?”

She turned to him, arms crossed under her chest. “Frank, no offense, but look at you. You’re, what, like fifty?”

“Forty-eight,” he said, voice flat.

“Yeah. And I’m not.” She pointed at herself. “Last night... I don’t know, I was all over the place. The hormones, the confusion, whatever. But I woke up and…” She shook her head. 

Ugh,” she muttered under her breath. “Seriously, what was I thinking?”

Frank’s breath caught. “Julia…”

“No,” she cut in flatly. “Just... don’t. I can’t even look at you right now.”

He took a cautious step forward. “You don’t mean that.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, cold and dismissive. “You look like someone’s dad, Frank.”

“I am someone’s dad,” he said, almost choking on the words. “And I’m your husband.”

She scoffed. “Yeah. And last night I fucked my old wrinkly husband. Gross.”

He flinched. That hit hard.

She turned toward the doorway without replying, already picking up her phone.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” she said. “Somewhere that doesn’t smell like mothballs and regret.”

“Julia…”

But she didn’t turn around.

Didn’t even pause.

------------------------------------

The front door burst open just as the last bit of sun disappeared beyond the trees.

Frank looked up from the couch, the remote slipping slightly from his fingers.

Julia stumbled in, clinging to a younger man. He was tall and built with a cocky grin and hungry eyes. Her giggle filled the entryway as she shoved him against the wall, kissing him hard. Her shirt was already halfway undone, barely hanging on.

Frank stood, stunned. “Julia—”

The guy blinked and glanced over Julia’s shoulder. “Uh... is someone here?”

Julia didn’t even look. “What?”

He nodded toward Frank. “That guy. He’s just... standing there.”

She turned her head lazily, eyes meeting Frank’s like she’d spotted a piece of furniture out of place.

“Oh, him?” Her voice was dismissive, bored. “Don’t mind him. Just some sad old man who lives here.”

The guy hesitated. “Wait... is he, like... your dad or something?”

Julia snorted. “Please. I don’t even know who the fuck he thinks he is.”

Frank stepped forward, heart pounding. “Julia, what are you doing?”

She turned fully toward him now, one eyebrow raised, as if seeing him for the first time and being thoroughly unimpressed.

“Do I know you?” she asked coolly.

He stared at her. “What?”

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the guy, wrapping her arms around his neck again. “Ignore him. He’s harmless. Delusional, probably. Keeps hanging around acting like we have some kind of connection.” She smirked. “Kinda pathetic, honestly.”

The guy looked uncomfortable. “Should we... go?”

“Yes,” she said, already pulling him toward the stairs. “Before the nursing home sends someone to collect him.”

Frank took a step forward. “Julia, this is our house. You can’t just—”

She snapped her fingers at him over her shoulder. “Hey. Keep your creepy old man fantasies to yourself, okay?”

She didn’t look back again.

The bedroom door slammed.

Frank stood alone in the hallway, breath caught in his throat, his world slowly collapsing in on itself.

A few minutes later and Frank sat at the edge of the couch, hands clasped tightly between his knees.

Then he heard a soft thump from upstairs. The rhythm of a bed frame hitting the wall.

A moan…Julia’s voice, unmistakable. 

Then louder she cried, “Yes, Jaxon!”  Another gasp. “Fuck—yes, right there!”

Frank just sat there in disbelief..

“Harder!” she screamed. “God, you fuck so much better than I imagined!”

He flinched at every word. Every creak of the bed. Every cry of pleasure.

 “Jaxon! Jaxon! Oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Frank sat frozen, staring at the wall as his wife, his former wife, howled out another man’s name over and over, like the man downstairs had never even existed.

Upstairs, Julia laughed through her moans, wild and unrestrained.

Downstairs, Frank didn’t move. He couldn’t. There was nothing left to say.

Nothing left to save.