shifting desire

Shapeshifting for fun

"I can't believe you're really doing this for me."
The blonde woman's laugh was a bright, tinkling sound in the quiet of the private gym's locker room. "And I can't believe you can actually do it. A week, right? You just… live my life?"
"One week," the man said, his voice a low, smooth rumble that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. He was of average build, with unremarkable features that seemed to shift and settle even as she looked at him. "You get a vacation from your influencer empire. I get… an experience."
Eloise—Elly to her two million followers—ran a hand through her voluminous, sun-bleached hair. Her hourglass figure, poured into sleek black athleisure, was a testament to her career. "It's not all latte art and beach pics, you know. There's content schedules, brand deals, my boyfriend, Liam… he's lovely, but he's… high-energy."
"Details are part of the experience," the shapeshifter said, a slow smile spreading. "The deal is simple. You want out. I want in. I become you. I live your life, exactly as you would. No one gets hurt. You get a silent, anonymous week in a luxury bungalow I've arranged. No phones, no cameras. Just peace."
She bit her plump lower lip, her blue eyes wide with a mix of thrill and trepidation. "And you can really look like me? Sound like me?"
"Watch."
The air around him seemed to shimmer, like heat haze on the outback highway. There was no dramatic flash, just a gradual, impossible melting and re-forming. His height shrunk, curves blossomed where there were none, shoulders narrowed. The plain features smoothed into Elly's heart-shaped face, her pert nose, her full, pouty lips. His hair lengthened, bleaching into her signature honey-gold waves. In less than a minute, Elly was staring at her own double.
"Holy shit," she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth.
The new Elly's voice, when it came, was a perfect mimic—a melodic Australian lilt. "See? Easy."
The real Elly, after a stunned moment, began to laugh, a giddy, relieved sound. "Okay. Okay! The keys, the codes, the schedule… it's all in my bag. The apartment is yours. Liam will be home by seven. Just… don't wreck my brand."
"Wouldn't dream of it," the shapeshifter-in-her-skin purred.
*
Alone in Elly's minimalist, sun-drenched apartment, the shapeshifter explored. It was a temple to the curated life. He—now she—stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the master bedroom, utterly fascinated.
The body was a masterpiece of disciplined hedonism. Powerful, sculpted thighs tapered to delicate ankles. A tiny waist flared into hips that demanded hands to grip them. And the ass… it was two perfect, round globes, high and firm, showcased by the sheer black thong she’d wiggled into. She ran her new, manicured hands over the swell of it, the skin impossibly soft and smooth over taut muscle. A wicked impulse took hold. She drew her hand back and brought it down in a sharp, stinging slap.
The sound was a crisp crack in the quiet room. The jolt of sensation was electric—a burst of heat, a ripple through the muscle, a shocking, immediate arousal that pooled low in her belly. A breathy gasp, Elly’s gasp, escaped her lips. Oh. Oh, that’s interesting.
She pulled on the matching high-waisted black leggings, feeling them cling like a second skin, compressing and lifting the very ass she’d just admired. The sports bra followed, framing generous, real breasts that felt heavy and sensitive. She shook out the blonde hair, painted on Elly’s practiced, smirking smile, and felt a new kind of power settle in her bones.
The key turned in the lock just after seven. Liam. He was exactly as pictured: tall, tanned, with sun-bleached curls and the easy, confident posture of a man who spent his life outdoors.
"Hey, babe," he called, dropping his keys on the console. "Killer sunset tonight. Should've done a live from the cliffs."
She turned from the kitchen island, a bottle of water in hand. "I had other things on my mind," she said, letting Elly’s voice drip with a suggestive warmth that was entirely her own invention.
Liam paused, his eyes scanning her. "Yeah? You look… different. Good different."
"I feel different." She put the bottle down and walked towards him, the deliberate sway of her new hips hypnotic. She stopped just inches from him, tilting her head up. "I've been thinking about you all day."
He grinned, sliding his hands onto her waist. "Yeah? What about me?"
She didn't answer with words. Instead, she pressed her body flush against his, letting him feel every curve through their clothes. She captured his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, her tongue sweeping past his lips with a boldness that made him groan. His hands slid down, gripping her ass through the leggings, kneading the firm flesh.
"Fuck, Elly," he muttered against her mouth.
She walked him backwards, never breaking the kiss, until his legs hit the edge of the large sectional sofa. She pushed him down. His eyes were dark with desire, confused but utterly captivated by this aggressive, unfamiliar version of his girlfriend.
Straddling his lap, she settled her weight onto him, feeling the hard ridge of his erection straining against his jeans, pressed perfectly against the damp heat already gathering between her thighs. She rocked against it slowly, a soft moan escaping her as the friction sparked through the thin layers of fabric.
"Someone's eager," Liam breathed, his hands coming up to cup her face.
She caught his wrists and guided them back down to her hips. "Just feel," she whispered, and began to move in earnest.
She ground herself against him in a slow, sinuous circle, her head falling back, her blonde hair tumbling down her back. The sensation was overwhelming—the pressure, the building heat, the sheer physicality of it. Every nerve in this borrowed body was alight. She reached between them, fumbling with the button and zip of his jeans, her movements urgent. He helped, shoving them down just enough to free his cock, thick and hot and ready.
With a quick shift of her own leggings and thong to the side, she positioned herself. Her eyes locked on his. Then, in one slow, deliberate, breathtaking slide, she sank down onto him, taking him deep inside.
A choked cry tore from her throat. The fullness was immense, a stretching, burning pressure that instantly morphed into a pulse of pure, shocking pleasure. She went still for a moment, just feeling him lodged inside her, feeling her own inner muscles flutter and clench around him.
"Jesus Christ," Liam gasped, his hands digging into her hips.
She began to move. Starting slow, she rose up until he was almost out, then sank back down, taking him to the hilt. Each descent sent a jolt through her core. She set a rhythm, riding him in a steady, rolling cowboy grind, using her powerful thighs to control every inch of the pace. Her hands braced on his shoulders, her nails biting into his shirt.
The slap of her ass against his thighs was a lewd, rhythmic counterpoint to their ragged breathing. The pleasure built in coiling, tightening waves, centered on that deep, friction-filled spot he hit with every thrust. She could feel the sweat beading between her breasts, under the sports bra. Her world narrowed to the feel of him inside her, the animal sounds from his throat, the sight of her own bouncing chest.
"Look at you," Liam groaned, his gaze raking over her. "Fuck, you're so sexy. So fucking tight."
She increased the pace, slamming down onto him harder, faster. The sofa creaked in protest. The building tension in her gut was a live wire, sparking and sizzling, threatening to snap. She was close, so close, the unfamiliar yet intensely familiar signs of climax screaming through her system. She rode him with a frantic, desperate energy, chasing the feeling, her cries becoming short, sharp pants.
"Liam…" she moaned, the name a foreign plea on her tongue.
That was all he needed. With a guttural roar, his hands clamped viselike on her hips, holding her down as he slammed up into her, his own release triggering hers. The orgasm detonated, a white-hot burst that radiated from her core out to her trembling limbs, a cascade of electric pleasure that made her back arch and her vision blur. She collapsed forward against his chest, both of them shuddering and spent, joined and panting in the dimming light.