Going Up

 

The hallway outside Cassie's apartment smells like expensive carpet cleaner and desire. I check my phone again. Joe's text from twenty minutes ago: She's in the lobby. Getting in the lift now. It won't be long now, I'm so excited... wet with desire at what I will soon have.

My heart hammers against my ribs. Three months of planning. Three months of studying every detail of Cassie Mitchell's perfect fucking life—her coffee order, her gym schedule, her ex-boyfriends, her PIN numbers. Three months of watching her strut past my desk in those tight little dresses, tossing that silky blonde hair, calling me "sweetie" in that patronising voice while she stole the promotion that should have been mine.

Twenty-four years old. Twenty-four. And already she's defeating me at everything.

Not anymore.

I clutch my overnight bag tighter. Inside: a change of Cassie's clothes I liberated from her locker. Her perfume. Her favourite lipstick. Everything I need to step into her skin—literally. Tonight I will become Cassie Mitchell.

The ray gun was expensive. Illegal. Worth every penny. One blast and a person will become a wearable skin. Once Joe shoots Cassie, her skin will fit me perfectly. I will finally have the tight young body I deserve. I will be her.

I'd corrupted Joe so perfectly for this moment. Started small—showing him Cassie's Instagram, pointing out how hot she was. Then bigger—jerking him off while making him stare at photos of her in bikinis, her tits spilling out, her ass in those tiny bottoms. I'd edge him for hours, whispering about how good it would feel to fuck her, how tight that pussy must be, how those perfect lips would look wrapped around his cock.

"When I'm her," I'd murmur, stroking him slowly, "you can have this body whenever you want. I'll be your hot blonde girlfriend. Don't you want that, baby?"

I made myself obsolete on purpose. Rewired his brain until he couldn't even get hard for me anymore—only for her. For Cassie.

For who I was about to become.

The elevator dings.

My breath catches. This is it. Joe will hand me the skin, still warm, and I'll finally—

The doors slide open.

She struts out.

Cassie. Alive. Whole. Better than whole.

That white bandage dress clings to every curve, the fabric so thin I can see the hard points of her nipples pressing through. The gold chain choker with the black stone glitters at her throat. Her blonde hair cascades in perfect waves, her makeup flawless even after a night out.

But something's different. Something in the way she moves. More confident. More... hungry.

"Hey, babe." Her voice is Cassie's honeyed purr, but the smile—god, that smile is all wrong. Too knowing. Too familiar.

"Where's Joe?" My voice comes out thin. Reedy. "What did you—"

"Joe?" She laughs, and it's a cruel, delighted sound. Her manicured hand trails down her own body, cupping one perfect breast through the dress, squeezing. "Mmmmmh... fuck, I feel good. Sorry, bitch, but this is my body now."

The floor drops out from under me.

No.

No.

"You... you can't..." I stumble backward. "The plan was—I was supposed to—"

"Supposed to what? Become me?" Cassie—Joe—takes a step toward me, hips swaying. She's already moving differently than the original, more deliberate, more aware of the power in every curve. "You really thought I'd just hand Cassie over after everything you did to me? Everything you did to make me obssessed with this body?"

Her fingers trace up her flat stomach, over the swell of those magnificent tits I'd been dreaming about for months.

"You showed me what I really wanted," she breathes. "Night after night, you made me worship this body. Made me need it. And then you expected me to just... give it to you?"

I can't speak. Can't move. Can only watch as my former boyfriend explores his stolen flesh with obvious, obscene pleasure.

"God, you should feel how sensitive these nipples are..." She pinches one through the dress and her eyes flutter closed, a soft moan escaping those glossy lips. "Ooooh... fuck yes. Everything feels amazing. My skin, my tits, this tight little pussy..."

Her hand slides down between her thighs, pressing the dress against herself.

"She was on her way home to masturbate, you know. Could feel how wet she was the whole ride up. Now I get to finish what she started."

"Joe—"

"It's Cassie now." Her eyes snap open, hard and bright. "And I'm going to be so much better at being her than she ever was. Sluttier. Meaner. Hungrier."

She steps past me toward the apartment door, fishing keys from a tiny clutch I hadn't even noticed.

The door opens. She pauses in the doorway, silhouetted by the soft light of Cassie's apartment—her apartment now—and looks back with a smile that's pure poison.

"Thanks for all those nights training me, babe. Turns out you were right about everything." She cups both breasts, lifting them, admiring her own cleavage with naked hunger. "Being her is going to feel SO good."

The door closes.

I stand alone in that expensive hallway, my overnight bag full of useless props, my scheme in ruins, my boyfriend gone—transformed into the very goddess I'd created him to worship.

I did this.

I corrupted him so completely that he wanted her more than he wanted me to be her.

And now I get to watch. Every day at work. Every meeting where she outshines me. Every promotion she steals, every man she wraps around her finger, every time she tosses that perfect blonde hair and calls me "sweetie" in that voice I taught my boyfriend to crave.

I made a monster.

And she's going to destroy me with the body I was supposed to wear.

I can already hear her moans coming from inside the apartment, the wet sounds of her fingering her tight pussy and starting to cum. Joe is gone - he's Cassie now and to be honest, who wouldn't want to be?

---

Six months later, Cassie is running the department.

She's worse than the original ever was—crueller, more ambitious, utterly without mercy. She fired three people in her first month. Stole two major accounts. Fucked the regional director in his office and got a corner suite for her trouble.

I watch her through the glass walls of my shrinking cubicle as she laughs at something on her phone, those perfect tits straining against another too-tight dress.

Sometimes she catches me looking.

And she smiles.

Fucking bitch...