Rose

 

Ross had always been the kind of guy people described as "nice." Not in the devastating way that meant boring—though perhaps that too—but in the genuine, helpful, always-there-when-you-need-him way. He was Amy's rock, her confidant, the person she called when things went wrong. Their friendship was pure, platonic, uncomplicated. At least, that's what Amy believed.

What Amy didn't know was that Ross had harboured a quiet, desperate crush on her for the better part of three years. He'd watched her date a string of increasingly attractive men, each one more confident than the last, and he'd smiled and nodded and offered advice while something small and jealous curled in his chest. He'd never act on it. That wasn't who Ross was. Ross was nice.

Which is why, when Amy called him in tears on a Tuesday evening, he came running.

"It's Brad," she said, her voice thick with anxiety. "I found something on his computer."

Ross sat across from her in her small kitchen, hands wrapped around a mug of tea he wasn't drinking. "What kind of something?"

Amy's cheeks flushed. "Porn. Threesome porn. Like... a lot of it."

Ross shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, lots of guys watch—"

"He keeps asking me," Amy interrupted. "He keeps bringing it up. Have I ever considered it? Would I be open to it? Do I have any friends who might be... interested?" She laughed, but there was no humour in it. "He's out of my league, Ross. You know he is. Every girl in a ten-mile radius is constantly sniffing around him, and I'm just... me. If I don't give him what he wants, he'll find someone who will."

Ross wanted to tell her she was beautiful, that Brad was lucky to have her, that any man who couldn't see that was a fool. But the words stuck in his throat, as they always did.

"So give him what he wants?" he offered weakly.

Amy shook her head. "That's the problem. If I bring another woman into this—some hot, confident girl who actually knows what she's doing—I'll lose him. He'll realise he can do better. He'll leave me for her." She looked up at Ross, her eyes red-rimmed and desperate. "I need your help."

"Of course. Anything."

The words were out before Ross could stop them. The curse of being nice.

Amy took a deep breath. "I've been telling Brad I have a friend. A girl named Rose. I've been saying she might be... up for it. For the threesome."

Ross nodded slowly, not understanding.

"I need you to be Rose."

The silence that followed was profound. Ross stared at Amy, waiting for the punchline, for the laugh that would signal this was all some elaborate joke. It didn't come.

"Amy," he said carefully, "I'm a man."

"I know." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small glass vial. The liquid inside was pink—not a soft, subtle pink, but something vivid and almost luminescent, like liquid candy. "My uncle... he's not exactly a law-abiding citizen. He got me this. It's called Elixir."

Ross stared at the vial. "What is it?"

"It's... God, this sounds insane. It's a drug that transforms people. Into women. Beautiful women." Amy's words came faster now, tumbling over each other. "It's temporary. A few hours, maybe a night. You drink it, you become Rose, we have the most mediocre, boring threesome possible, Brad realises his fantasy isn't all it's cracked up to be, and everything goes back to normal. Please, Ross. I'm desperate."

"This is insane."

"I know."

"You're asking me to... to become a woman and have sex with your boyfriend."

"And me." Amy's cheeks were flaming now. "It would be both of us. Together." She reached across the table and took his hand. "Ross, you're the only person I trust with this. And if you do this for me... if you help me save my relationship..." She bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes. "I'd be so grateful. So grateful."

The implication hung in the air between them, heavy and unmistakable.

Ross looked at the vial. He looked at Amy—pretty, anxious, desperate Amy, who was finally looking at him like he was someone who mattered. His heart was pounding. His palms were sweating. Every rational part of his brain was screaming that this was madness, that nothing good could come of it, that he should walk away right now.

But there was another part of him. A smaller, darker part. A part that was curious. A part that wondered what it would feel like. A part that had always felt somehow wrong in his own skin, though he'd never had the words to articulate why.

"One time," he heard himself say. "Just to help you out. And then we never speak of this again."

Amy's face broke into a relieved smile. "Thank you. Oh God, thank you, Ross. You're the best friend I've ever had."

---

Three days later, Ross stood in Amy's apartment while Brad was at work, the vial of Elixir cold in his palm. Amy watched him with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, her phone already loaded with outfit options she'd pulled from Pinterest.

"You're sure about this?" Ross asked, though he wasn't sure if he was asking her or himself.

"Just drink it. It'll be over before you know it."

Ross uncorked the vial. The smell that wafted up was sweet and chemical, like strawberries and something else, something that made his head swim. He brought it to his lips.

This is insane, he thought. This is absolutely fucking insane.

He drank.

The effect was immediate. The liquid burned going down, not painfully but intensely, like swallowing liquid pleasure. It spread through his chest, his stomach, his limbs, filling every cell of his body with warmth that quickly escalated to heat.

"Oh," Ross gasped, the vial slipping from his fingers. "Oh God, it's—"

His voice cracked. No—his voice changed, the pitch sliding upward, smoothing out, taking on a breathy, husky quality that made him sound like he'd just woken up from a very satisfying dream.

"It's working," Amy whispered, her eyes wide. "Oh my God, it's actually working."

Ross looked down at his hands. The hair on his arms was receding, the skin softening, his fingers becoming slender and elegant. He could feel his bones shifting, hear them shifting—a series of small pops and cracks as his skeleton rearranged itself into something new.

"Mmmmmh..." The sound escaped his throat unbidden, somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It felt good. It felt better than anything had ever felt. His hips were widening, his waist pulling in, and there was pressure building in his chest—

He gasped as his pectorals began to swell, flesh and fat redistributing, nipples tingling as they darkened and stiffened. He cupped his hands over his forming breasts instinctively, feeling them push against his palms, growing fuller, rounder, settling into perfect C-cups topped with rosy, sensitive peaks.

"Ohhh fuck..." His new voice was pure sex, a throaty purr with just a hint of vocal fry. "That feels... that feels incredible..."

His face was changing now. He could feel his features softening, refining, his cheekbones becoming more prominent, his lips plumping into a natural pout. His eyes felt larger, darker, framed by lashes that seemed to grow as he blinked. When he touched his hair, it was already past his shoulders and getting longer, dark and silky and thick.

The final change came between his legs. His cock—which had been embarrassingly hard throughout the transformation—seemed to shrink, to fold, to reshape itself into something entirely new. The sensation was indescribable, a pleasure so intense it was almost pain, and when it was done...

Ross reached down. His fingers found slick, wet folds. A clit that throbbed at the slightest touch. A tight, empty pussy that ached to be filled.

"Fuck yes," he breathed—no, she breathed. Because the person standing in Amy's living room was no longer Ross. She was Rose.

And Rose felt amazing.

She stretched, catlike, revelling in the way her new body moved. Every sensation was heightened. The air against her bare skin. The weight of her breasts. The slickness between her thighs. She caught sight of herself in the mirror on Amy's wall and her breath caught.

She was beautiful.

Not just pretty. Not just attractive. She was the kind of beautiful that stopped traffic, that made men stupid and women jealous. Her features were delicate but sharp—high cheekbones, a small nose, lips that seemed to exist solely for the purpose of being kissed or wrapped around a cock. Her dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders, and her eyes... her eyes were deep, knowing, promising things that good girls didn't even dream about.

Her body was obscene in the best possible way. Long legs, a tight waist, hips that flared into a perfect ass, and those breasts—round and perky and begging to be touched. She was every teenage boy's wet dream, every man's secret fantasy, every woman's worst nightmare.

Rose smiled at her reflection, and the smile was not Ross's smile. It was something sharper. Something crueller.

Look at you, a voice whispered in her head. It was her voice—Rose's voice—but it was also something new, something that had been dormant inside Ross all along, waiting for permission to emerge. Look at what you could have been all along. Look at what you've been hiding from.

"Ross?" Amy's voice was tentative, uncertain. "Are you... are you okay?"

Rose turned to look at her. Poor, plain Amy, with her mousy brown hair and her nervous eyes and her desperate need to keep a man who was so obviously too good for her. Rose felt something stir in her chest—not sympathy, exactly. Something darker. Something that found Amy's discomfort... amusing.

"I'm fine," Rose said, and her voice came out like honey and poison. "I'm better than fine. I'm fucking perfect."

Amy swallowed. "You look... God, you look amazing. Maybe even too amazing. Brad is going to—"

"Going to what?" Rose stepped closer, enjoying the way Amy instinctively stepped back. "Going to notice me? Going to want me? Isn't that the whole point?"

"The point is for him to be disappointed," Amy said, but her voice wavered. "The point is for the threesome to be boring so he stops—"

Rose laughed. It was not a kind laugh. "Oh, sweetie. Did you really think that was going to happen?" She reached out and tucked a strand of Amy's hair behind her ear, a gesture that was somehow both tender and condescending. "Look at me. Do I look like I do boring?"

Amy's eyes were wide, her breathing shallow. Rose could see the pulse jumping in her throat, could smell—actually smell—the fear and arousal coming off her in waves. The Elixir had given her more than just a new body. It had given her... senses. Powers. An awareness of what people wanted, what they feared, what they needed.

And what Amy needed, Rose realised with a thrill, was to be put in her place.

This is wrong, whispered a small voice in the back of Rose's mind. A Ross-voice, faint and fading. This isn't what we agreed to. Amy is our friend. We should—

Shut up, Rose thought back, and the voice did.

"We should get me ready," Rose said, her tone brooking no argument. "Help me pick out something to wear."

---

The next hour was a revelation.

Amy's wardrobe was, frankly, tragic—all sensible jeans and modest tops and underwear that could generously be described as "practical." But buried in the back of her closet were pieces from a former life, a thinner life, clothes that Amy had kept in the desperate hope that she might one day fit into them again.

Rose fit into them perfectly.

"This," she said, pulling out a tight black dress that would barely cover her ass. "And these." Strappy heels that made her legs look endless. "And..." She dug deeper, finding a lacy thong that was still attached to its tags. "This."

"That's from when I was—" Amy started.

"Hotter?" Rose finished, and watched the words land like a slap. "Don't worry, babe. I'll put them to good use."

She stripped off Ross's baggy clothes without a hint of self-consciousness, watching Amy's face as her new body was revealed. Amy's eyes dropped to Rose's breasts, her flat stomach, the neat landing strip of dark hair above her pussy. Rose saw her throat move as she swallowed.

She wants me, Rose realised with delight. She wants me and she hates herself for it.

"Like what you see?" Rose asked, slipping into the thong and adjusting the thin strap over her hips. The dress came next, hugging every curve like it had been sewn onto her body. She stepped into the heels and immediately her posture changed—back arched, ass out, chest forward. She looked like she was perpetually offering herself up to be fucked.

"Makeup," Rose commanded. "Do my makeup."

Amy complied, her hands shaking slightly as she applied foundation, contour, blush. But Rose grew impatient with her tentative touch, and halfway through she took over, somehow knowing how to do things Ross had never learned. Smoky eyes. Perfectly winged liner. Lips painted a deep, fuck-me red that made her pout look even more obscene.

When she was done, she looked in the mirror and felt a surge of pure, narcissistic pleasure.

"Goddamn," she breathed. "I'd fuck me."

Amy stood behind her, pale and anxious. "Maybe we should... maybe we should wait. Do this another time. The Elixir will wear off soon, and—"

Rose picked up Amy's phone from the counter.

"What are you doing?" Amy lunged for it, but Rose was faster, holding it out of reach while she typed.

"Texting your boyfriend." Rose's smile was wicked. "Telling him to hurry home because you have a very special surprise for him."

"You can't—give that back—Ross, stop—"

"It's Rose, actually." She hit send and tossed the phone onto the bed. "And this is what you wanted, isn't it? A threesome. A way to satisfy Brad's fantasies. Well..." She spread her arms, showing off her body. "Fantasy achieved."

Amy's face crumpled. "This isn't how it was supposed to go."

"Isn't it?" Rose stepped close, close enough to smell Amy's cheap shampoo and the sour note of fear beneath it. "You wanted me to fuck your boyfriend. You wanted to watch. You wanted to be part of it." She leaned in, her lips brushing Amy's ear. "Don't pretend you're not already wet."

Amy made a small, strangled sound.

"That's what I thought." Rose patted her cheek. "Now freshen up, babe. Brad will be here soon, and you look like you've been crying."

---

Brad was, objectively speaking, gorgeous.

Rose understood immediately why Amy was so terrified of losing him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of effortless masculinity that came from good genetics and regular gym sessions. His jaw was sharp, his eyes were a striking blue, and when he smiled—which he did, frequently, as he took in the sight of Rose lounging on his couch—it was the smile of a man who knew exactly how attractive he was.

"Amy," he said slowly, not taking his eyes off Rose, "who's your friend?"

"This is Rose." Amy's voice was thin, reedy. "She's... we were talking, and..."

"We thought you might be interested in a threesome," Rose finished, rising from the couch and extending her hand. Brad took it, and she saw his pupils dilate as her pheromones hit him. "Amy's told me so much about you."

"Has she?" Brad's gaze traveled down Rose's body, lingering on her breasts, her hips, the hem of her dress that barely covered her ass. "All good things, I hope."

"Mmmhmm." Rose stepped closer, letting him smell her perfume—something expensive and intoxicating that Amy had been saving for a special occasion. "She says you've been fantasising about this for a while. Two girls at once. Every man's dream, right?"

Brad laughed, a low, hungry sound. "Amy, babe, why didn't you tell me you had friends like this?"

Amy made a noise that might have been an answer, but no one was listening to her anymore.

"So," Rose said, trailing a finger down Brad's chest, "shall we take this to the bedroom?"

---

The bedroom was modest—queen-sized bed, cheap IKEA furniture, the faint smell of Amy's lavender candles. But none of that mattered once Rose climbed onto the bed and crooked her finger at Amy.

"Come here, babe. Let's give Brad a show."

Amy hesitated, then crawled onto the bed beside her. Rose could feel her trembling—fear, arousal, uncertainty all mixed together. It was delicious.

"Kiss me," Rose commanded.

Amy leaned in. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory. Amy's lips were dry, her technique uncertain. But Rose had no patience for uncertainty. She grabbed the back of Amy's head and deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding into Amy's mouth, claiming her.

Amy whimpered.

That's it, Rose thought, the dark voice inside her purring with satisfaction. Submit. Give in. Let me show you what you really are.

Without breaking the kiss, Rose pushed Amy down onto the bed, pinning her wrists above her head. Amy's eyes went wide, but she didn't struggle. Her body arched up into Rose's, seeking contact, seeking pressure.

"Brad," Rose said, pulling back just enough to speak, "your girlfriend is so responsive. Have you noticed that? How she just... melts when someone takes control?"

Brad was watching from the foot of the bed, his hand already on his cock, stroking slowly through his jeans. "Fuck yes. That's so hot."

"Isn't it?" Rose's hand slid down Amy's body, over her clothed breasts, her stomach, coming to rest between her thighs. Even through the fabric of her jeans, Rose could feel the heat of her. "Let's see just how wet she is."

She unbuttoned Amy's jeans with practised ease and slipped her hand inside. Amy gasped as Rose's fingers found her pussy—already soaked, the thin cotton of her underwear saturated.

"Oh my," Rose giggled. "Someone's enjoying this. Were you this wet when you planned this whole thing, Amy? When you asked your sweet, innocent friend Ross to become a woman and fuck your boyfriend? Were you thinking about this?"

"I—" Amy's voice broke as Rose's fingers found her clit. "I didn't—oh God—"

"Didn't what? Didn't plan for me to be this good at it?" Rose began to circle Amy's clit, slow and teasing. "Didn't expect to like it so much?"

Amy's hips bucked. Her breath came in short, desperate gasps. Rose could feel her building toward climax, could feel the tension coiling in her body, and just as Amy was about to tip over the edge—

Rose stopped.

"What—" Amy's eyes flew open. "No, please, I was so close—"

"I know." Rose smiled sweetly. "That's why I stopped."

Brad laughed from his position at the foot of the bed. "Holy shit, Rose. That's cold."

"Is it?" Rose climbed off Amy, leaving her panting and frustrated on the bed. "I think it's just... fun. Don't you think it's fun, Amy?"

Amy whimpered, her hand moving toward her own pussy.

"Ah-ah." Rose grabbed her wrist. "No touching. Not until I say so."

"Rose, please—"

"Brad." Rose turned to him, dismissing Amy entirely. "Why don't you come over here and join us? I've heard so much about your cock. I'd love to see it for myself."

Brad didn't need to be asked twice. He stripped off his shirt—revealing the kind of sculpted abs that only came from dedicated gym time—and climbed onto the bed. His jeans followed, and then his boxers, and Rose's breath caught at the sight of him.

He was big. Not pornstar big, but bigger than anything Ross had ever seen outside of a screen. Thick, hard, already leaking precum. Rose felt her new pussy clench with anticipation.

"Mmmm," she purred, reaching out to wrap her hand around his shaft. "Amy wasn't exaggerating."

Brad groaned as she stroked him. "Fuck, your hands are so soft..."

"Amy." Rose's voice was sharp. "Come here. Show me how you suck your boyfriend's cock."

Amy scrambled to obey, positioning herself between Brad's legs. She took him into her mouth—competently, but without flair. Rose watched, analysing, noting the way Brad's eyes drifted to her even as Amy worked his shaft.

"Deeper," Rose instructed. "He wants you to take it deeper."

Amy tried, gagged, pulled back.

"Hmm." Rose shook her head. "Let me show you how it's done."

She nudged Amy aside—not roughly, but with unmistakable authority—and positioned herself in front of Brad. She looked up at him through her lashes, letting him see the hunger in her eyes, the promise.

Then she opened her mouth and took him to the root.

"Fuck!" Brad's hips jerked, his hands flying to Rose's hair. "Holy shit, holy shit—"

Rose relaxed her throat, letting him slide even deeper, until her nose was pressed against his pelvis. She could feel him twitching, throbbing, could taste the salt of his precum on her tongue. She swallowed around him and was rewarded with a guttural moan.

She pulled back slowly, her lips dragging along his shaft, leaving a trail of saliva and lipstick. When she finally released him with a wet pop, Brad was staring at her like she was a goddess descended from heaven.

"Where did you—how did you—"

"Natural talent." Rose licked her lips. "Your girlfriend could never do that, could she?"

Brad's eyes flicked to Amy, who was watching with a mixture of arousal and devastation. "No," he admitted. "No, she couldn't."

"Mmm." Rose turned to Amy, gestured magnanimously. "Your turn again, sweetie. Let's see if you can make him cum."

Amy took Brad back into her mouth, working desperately, trying to replicate what Rose had done. But her technique was clumsy, her enthusiasm no substitute for skill. Rose watched Brad's face—saw the way his arousal plateaued, saw the slight furrow of his brow.

"Harder," Rose suggested. "He likes it when you—no, not like that. Use your tongue. More pressure. More."

Amy tried. She tried so hard. But the more she sucked, the more Brad softened. His attention kept drifting to Rose, his cock responding to her gaze more than Amy's mouth.

Finally, Rose laughed. "Oh, this is just sad. Brad, baby, do you want me to ride that dick and make you cum properly?"

"God yes." Brad practically shoved Amy aside. "Please."

Amy made a small, wounded sound, but Rose ignored her. She was already straddling Brad's hips, positioning his cock at her entrance. She was dripping wet—had been since the transformation, since she first saw herself in the mirror—and when she began to lower herself onto him...

"Ohhhhh fuuuck..."

The sound that escaped her was pure pornographic bliss. He was big, stretching her new pussy in ways that bordered on painful, but her body was made for this. She could take every inch, could feel him bottoming out inside her, filling her completely.

"Mmmm," she moaned, beginning to rock her hips. "That's it. That's exactly what I needed."

Brad's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements, but Rose was in control. She set the pace—slow at first, then faster, her perfect tits bouncing with each thrust. Her head fell back, her dark hair cascading down her spine, and she rode him like she'd been doing this her whole life.

Maybe she had been. Maybe Rose had always existed, somewhere inside Ross, waiting for this moment.

Amy lay on the bed beside them, one hand between her legs, watching her boyfriend fuck her transformed friend. Rose could hear her quiet, desperate moans, could smell her arousal mixing with the heady scent of sex.

"Does this feel good?" Rose asked Brad, her voice breathy with pleasure. "Better than her?"

"Fuck yes," Brad groaned. "So much better. So fucking tight—"

"I know, baby. I know." Rose leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. "You can fuck me whenever you want from now on. Would you like that?"

"Yes. God, yes."

"Good boy."

She sat up and increased her pace, chasing her own pleasure now. The orgasm was building inside her, different from anything Ross had ever experienced—deeper, fuller, radiating outward from her core. She could feel Brad thickening inside her, knew he was close too. Then a voice interrupted them.

"Rose, can I have a turn? Please?"

Rose slowed, looked down at Amy's desperate face. For a moment—just a moment—something like Ross's conscience stirred inside her.

Then it died.

"Sure, sweetie." Rose climbed off Brad, gesturing for Amy to take her place. "Let's see if you can make him cum."

Amy scrambled to mount her boyfriend, sinking down onto his cock with a grateful moan. She began to ride him, her technique clumsy compared to Rose's, her body less responsive. Brad's hands went to her hips, but his eyes—his eyes stayed on Rose.

Rose watched them fuck, and she felt... nothing. No jealousy. No arousal. Just a vague amusement at how hard Amy was trying and how little Brad cared.

After a few minutes, Brad's rhythm faltered. His erection was softening.

"Babe," he said, his voice strained. "I need... I need Rose again."

Amy froze. "What?"

"I'm sorry, it's just..." He looked at Rose, helpless and horny. "Please?"

Rose giggled. "You heard him, Amy. Off."

Amy climbed off Brad, her face crumpling. Rose took her place immediately, sinking down onto his renewed erection, feeling him harden fully inside her.

"That's better," she sighed. "Isn't that better, Brad?"

"So much better. Fuck, you're amazing."

Rose rode him harder now, faster, chasing the orgasm that had been building since the moment she transformed. Brad thrust up to meet her, his fingers digging into her hips, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I'm gonna—" he groaned. "Rose, I'm gonna—"

"Do it," she commanded. "Cum inside me. Fill me up."

She felt him explode, felt the hot rush of his seed flooding her pussy, and the sensation pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her in waves, her inner walls clenching around his pulsing cock, milking every drop from him.

"Fuck yes," she moaned. "Fuck yes."

She collapsed onto his chest, both of them panting, and in the aftermath of her climax she felt something shift inside her. The last remnants of Ross—his conscience, his kindness, his hesitation—crumbled to dust.

There was only Rose now.

"Amy," she said, not lifting her head from Brad's chest. "Come here."

Amy crawled closer, her face streaked with tears she'd tried to hide.

"Don't cry, sweetie." Rose finally looked at her, and her smile was almost gentle. Almost. "I'm not going to steal him from you. I want you to be part of this relationship. But from now on..." She clenched around Brad's softening cock, making him groan. "This is my cock. If you're lucky—if you're good—I'll let Brad fuck you sometimes. But the rest of the time, his dick belongs only in my pussy. Understand?"

Amy's lower lip trembled. "Rose..."

"Do you understand?"

"...Yes."

"Good girl." Rose finally climbed off Brad, his cum already beginning to leak from her swollen pussy. "Now, do you want to see your boyfriend creampie me again? If you let him cum inside me, I'll eat you out. Finally let you have that orgasm I've been denying you."

Amy's eyes widened. She looked at Brad, at his cock—already stirring back to life—then at Rose's cum-filled cunt.

"Yes," she whispered. "Please."

Rose laughed. "Such an eager little cuck. Get on your back, then. You can watch from the best seat in the house."

What followed was a blur of bodies and pleasure. Brad took Rose from behind this time, pounding into her with an intensity he'd never shown Amy, making her perfect ass bounce with each thrust. Amy lay beneath them, watching her boyfriend's cock slide in and out of her friend's pussy, Rose's moans filling the room.

"Touch yourself," Rose commanded. "But don't cum until I say so."

Amy obeyed, her fingers working her clit as she watched the show above her. Brad was grunting now, his thrusts becoming erratic, and Rose pushed back against him, taking him even deeper.

"Cum in me," she demanded. "Fill my pussy again."

Brad roared as he came, his cock pulsing inside her. Rose felt his seed mixing with what was already there, felt herself overflow, felt his cum dripping down onto Amy's face below.

"Now," Rose gasped, still trembling from her own orgasm. "Amy, you can cum now."

Amy came with a sob, her back arching off the bed, her whole body shaking with the force of her release. And when she finally stilled, Rose crawled down her body and made good on her promise—lapping at Amy's pussy, tasting her arousal mixed with the cum that had dripped onto her, bringing her to a second, even more devastating orgasm.

When it was finally over, all three of them lay tangled on the ruined sheets, breathing hard.

"That," Brad said eventually, "was the best sex of my life."

Rose smiled against Amy's thigh. "Of course it was, baby."

They fucked three more times that night.

---

As dawn began to lighten the sky outside Amy's window, Rose felt something strange. A tingling in her extremities. A loosening in her joints. A faint, distant sense of... Ross.

The Elixir, she realised. It's wearing off.

She slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake Brad or Amy, and padded to the bathroom. In the mirror, she could already see subtle changes—her features softening slightly, her breasts perhaps a fraction smaller. She didn't have long.

She picked up her phone—Ross's phone, which she'd grabbed on the way out—and opened the camera.

"Hey there, Ross." Her voice was still Rose's, husky and amused. "It's me. It's you. Whatever. I just wanted to leave you a little message, since I know you're not going to remember most of what happened tonight. Or rather, you'll remember, but it'll feel like a dream. Like it happened to someone else." She smiled, and even on the small screen, it was devastating. "Here's the thing, though. It didn't happen to someone else. It happened to you. You were me. You fucked Brad. You dominated Amy. You came harder than you've ever come in your pathetic male life, and you loved every second of it."

She leaned closer to the camera.

"I'm in charge now, Ross. I'm the real you—the you that you've been too scared to be. And from now on, you're going to do exactly what I say. You're going to take more Elixir. You're going to become me again. And eventually..." Her smile widened. "Eventually, you're not going to have a choice. Eventually, I'm going to be all that's left."

She blew a kiss at the camera.

"See you soon, sweetie."

She ended the recording just as the transformation began in earnest. Her bones cracked and shifted, her breasts deflated, her hair shortened. It was painful this time—or maybe it was just that leaving Rose's body hurt more than entering it. By the time it was over, Ross was slumped on the bathroom floor, gasping, disoriented, memories of the night already fading into something hazy and surreal.

He got dressed in the clothes he'd left in the corner—his own clothes, baggy and shapeless and wrong—and slipped out of the apartment before Brad and Amy woke.

---

Later that day, Ross sat in his own apartment, staring at his phone.

He'd found the video. He'd watched it three times.

Each time, his hand had drifted to his cock.

"Fuck," he muttered, slamming the phone face-down on the table. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He couldn't become Rose again. He couldn't. She was everything he wasn't—cruel, manipulative, sexually voracious. If he let her out again, she would consume him. She would become him. There would be no Ross left at all.

He was still telling himself this when Amy called.

"We need to talk," she said. "Can you come over?"

---

Amy looked different when Ross arrived. There was colour in her cheeks, a brightness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. She looked... happy. Content. Satisfied.

"I'm sorry," Ross said immediately. "For whatever I—for whatever Rose did. She's... I don't know what she is. Some kind of alter ego, I guess. Everything I've suppressed. Everything dark and awful about me, given form." He ran a hand through his hair. "I understand if you never want to see me again."

Amy tilted her head. "Why would I not want to see you?"

"Because Rose is a monster. Because she manipulated you and dominated you and—"

"And gave me the best orgasms of my life?"

Ross blinked. "What?"

Amy stepped closer. "Ross, last night was... I can't even describe it. Being dominated like that. Being denied, being controlled, being used. I've never felt anything like it. I didn't even know I wanted it until Rose showed me."

"Amy, that's... that's not healthy."

"Isn't it?" Amy's smile was strange. Knowing. "I've been thinking about it all day. About what I really want. About what I've been too scared to ask for." She reached out and took Ross's hand. "I want you to move in with us."

"What?"

"I want you to take more Elixir. I want Rose to be here, all the time. I want..." She bit her lip. "I want the three of us to be together. Me, Brad, and Rose. With Rose in charge."

Ross pulled his hand away. "Amy, no. I can't. If I keep taking the Elixir, I'll lose myself. I'll become Rose, permanently. There won't be a Ross anymore."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Yes! I don't want to be her. I don't want to be cruel and manipulative and—"

"Powerful? Beautiful? Sexually fulfilled?"

Ross opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out.

"I've already talked to my uncle," Amy continued. "He can get us more Elixir. A lot more. Enough to make the transformation... permanent." Her eyes were bright, almost feverish. "Think about it, Ross. No more being invisible. No more being overlooked. No more being nice. You could be Rose forever. You could have everything you've ever wanted."

"I don't want—"

"Don't you?" Amy stepped even closer, until her body was almost pressed against his. "Don't you want to feel that good again? Don't you want to be desired? To be worshipped? To be powerful?"

Ross's heart was pounding. His palms were sweating. Some treacherous part of him—the part that had spent the morning jerking off to Rose's video—was whispering that Amy was right. That being Rose had been the best he'd ever felt. That going back to being Ross was a kind of death.

"I need to think," he said. "I need—can I have some coffee? I need to clear my head."

Amy smiled. "Of course. I just made a pot."

She went to the kitchen and returned with a steaming mug. Ross took it gratefully, wrapping his hands around its warmth. He took a long sip.

It tasted... strange. Sweet. Almost chemical.

Like strawberries, he thought. Like strawberries and—

The mug slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor.

"Amy," he said, his voice already changing, his body already tingling. "What did you—what did you put in—"

"Just a little something my uncle gave me." Amy's smile was no longer kind. It was predatory. Hungry. "Consider it a gift, Ross. From me to Rose."

"No—" But even as he said it, he could feel his bones beginning to shift. Could feel his skin softening, his hair lengthening, his chest swelling. "Amy, please, you can't—I don't want—"

Don't you, though? The voice in his head was Rose's now, and it was laughing. Don't you want to feel this good forever? Don't you want to be me?

"Stop fighting it," Amy said, watching with undisguised fascination as Ross's features melted into Rose's. "It's already done. The Elixir my uncle gave me—it's a new formula. Stronger. More permanent." Her smile widened. "There's no going back this time, Ross. Rose is here to stay."

Ross tried to scream, but what came out was a moan of pleasure as his transformation completed. His—her—new body was even more perfect than before, every curve more pronounced, every feature more devastating. She looked down at herself and felt a rush of pure, narcissistic joy.

Fuck yes, Rose thought, running her hands over her new body. This is what I was always meant to be.

The last of Ross's consciousness flickered and faded, consumed by the hungry dark of his alter ego. Rose stretched luxuriously, enjoying the way her perfect body moved, the way her sensitive skin tingled at every sensation.

"Welcome back," Amy said, and there was worship in her voice now. Submission. "I missed you."

Rose smiled—a slow, wicked smile that promised dark delights to come. "I know you did, sweetie. I know you did." She stepped over the shattered coffee cup, advancing on Amy with predatory grace. "Now, let's talk about the new rules of this household. Starting with exactly how you're going to worship me while we wait for Brad to get home."

Amy sank to her knees without being asked.

This is what you wanted, whispered the voice in the back of Rose's mind—the last, dying ember of Ross. This is what you made me into.

I know, Rose thought back, tangling her fingers in Amy's hair and guiding her between her thighs. Isn't it wonderful?

The last of Ross went silent.

And Rose began her new life.