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The image was a screenshot of Rachel's LinkedIn profile – her mousy face, her boring corporate headshot – photoshopped onto the body of a pig. The caption read: "Some people peaked in high school. Some people never peaked at all. Oink oink, Piggy Rachel. 🐷💋"
Three thousand likes already. Comments flooding in. Laughing emojis. Cruel jokes. People she didn't even know, piling on because Lexi made it fun, made it fashionable to destroy her.
Rachel sat in the dark of her modest living room, tears streaming down her cheeks, and something inside her finally snapped. Not broke. Snapped. Like a bone resetting itself into a sharper, more dangerous angle.
Beside her, Dan stirred on the couch. "Baby? You okay?"
"Fine," she whispered. "Go back to sleep."
But she wasn't fine. She was done. Done being the victim. Done being Piggy Rachel. Done letting Lexi fucking Monroe ruin her life from a penthouse apartment while she cowered in a two-bedroom rental, jumping at every notification.
---
It took her three weeks to find the seller. Three weeks of crawling through dark web forums, encrypted chats, and cryptocurrency transfers that made her savings account weep. The device arrived in an unmarked black case, nestled in foam like some kind of surgical instrument. Which, in a way, it was.
The skin-ray gun was surprisingly elegant – sleek chrome, a pistol grip, a single green crystal embedded in the barrel. The instructions were handwritten on a scrap of paper: Point. Shoot. Collect. Wear.
Rachel practised holding it in front of the mirror. She didn't look like a killer. She looked like what she was – a mousy, forgettable woman in her early thirties with limp brown hair and the permanent hunch of someone who'd spent her life trying to disappear. But her eyes… her eyes had changed. There was something cold in them now. Something hungry.
She tracked Lexi's location through her Instagram stories. The woman was pathologically incapable of not broadcasting her every move. "Shooting content at my loft today! 💕" A geotag. An address. An invitation.
---
The building was industrial-chic, all exposed brick and floor-to-ceiling windows. Rachel's heart hammered as she climbed the fire escape, the gun tucked into her jacket. She could hear music from inside – something with heavy bass and a synthetic purr. Through a gap in the curtains, she saw her.
Lexi.
God, she was stunning. Time had only sharpened her beauty into something more lethal. She was a brunette goddess, all cascading waves of dark chocolate hair, tanned skin glowing under the ring lights, and a body that defied physics – huge, round tits straining against a latex bodysuit, a tiny waist, and an ass that looked like it had been sculpted by a horny Renaissance master. She was posing for a camera on a tripod, her lips pursed in a cruel pout, one hand trailing down between her thighs.
"That's it, baby," she murmured to herself, her voice that familiar husky purr that had haunted Rachel's nightmares for fifteen years. "Give them what they pay for. Fucking losers…"
Rachel's hand tightened on the gun. She slipped through the unlocked window.
Lexi didn't even notice her at first. Too absorbed in her own reflection, her own magnificence. It wasn't until Rachel's shadow fell across the ring light that she turned, her perfect face twisting with confusion, then recognition, then delicious, incredulous contempt.
"Holy shit. Piggy Rachel?" Lexi laughed, a high, cruel sound. "Did you actually track me down? That's so fucking pathetic it's almost cute. What are you gonna do, cry at me? Beg me to stop?" She stepped closer, towering over Rachel in her six-inch heels. "Newsflash, babe. I don't stop. I don't ever stop. Ruining you is the most fun I've had in years."
Rachel raised the gun.
Lexi's eyes flicked to it, and for the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her beautiful face. "What the fuck is that? Some kind of—"
The green flash was blinding. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut against it, but she could still hear the sound – a wet, sizzling hiss, like bacon frying, like something solid becoming something… less. When she opened her eyes, Lexi was gone.
In her place, pooled on the hardwood floor like a discarded evening gown, was a skin.
It was perfect. Complete. The face still bore that expression of frozen contempt, the lips still glossy, the hair still lustrous and full. But it was empty. Hollow. A shell of the woman who had tormented her, reduced to something Rachel could pick up and fold over her arm like a coat.
And God, it was warm. Warm and soft and strangely heavy, pulsing with a faint, residual energy. Rachel ran her fingers over the material – not quite flesh, not quite fabric, something in between that made her skin tingle.
She should call the police. She should leave the skin here and run. She should—
Try it on.
The thought came from nowhere. Or maybe from everywhere. From the skin itself, perhaps, whispering to her in a voice that sounded like Lexi's cruel purr.
You know you want to. You've always wanted to. To be powerful. To be beautiful. To be the one doing the hurting for once.
Rachel's hands were already moving. She found the seam along the back, a nearly invisible line running from the nape of the neck down to the base of the spine. It parted easily, revealing an interior that glistened with something slick and inviting.
She stripped off her clothes. Her own body looked pathetic in the reflection of Lexi's many mirrors – small breasts, soft stomach, pale skin that had never seen the inside of a gym. She stepped into the opening, sliding her legs into Lexi's legs, her feet into Lexi's feet. The material clung to her, moulding to her shape, but also reshaping her, pulling and stretching in ways that should have been painful but instead felt like the most exquisite massage.
Her arms slid into Lexi's arms. Her fingers filled out those perfectly manicured hands. She reached back and pulled the seam closed, feeling it seal behind her with a soft click.
Then came the face.
Rachel pulled the mask over her head, aligning her eyes with Lexi's eye holes, her mouth with Lexi's mouth. For a moment, everything was dark and tight and suffocating. And then—
FLOOD.
Knowledge poured into her. Lexi's memories, her skills, her confidence, her cruelty – all of it downloading directly into Rachel's brain like a software update from hell. She gasped, staggering, as years of experience became hers in seconds. She knew how to walk in heels now. Knew how to apply makeup with expert precision. Knew how to make a man beg with just a look. Knew the passwords to Lexi's bank accounts – plural – and the balance in each one.
The numbers made her knees weak. Seven figures. Multiple accounts. Properties. Investments. All of it earned by being a beautiful, dominant, unapologetic bitch.
Rachel – no, Lexi – straightened up and looked in the mirror.
The reflection stole her breath.
She was gorgeous. Tall, tanned, stacked. Her tits were magnificent – huge, round, defying gravity in a way that made her old body seem like a cruel joke. Her waist was impossibly tiny, her hips flared dramatically, her ass was a perfect peach that begged to be grabbed, spanked, worshipped. Her face was a masterpiece of bone structure and cosmetic perfection, lips full and pouty, eyes sharp and cruel, cheekbones that could cut glass.
"Oh my God," she breathed, and the voice that came out was Lexi's voice – that husky, commanding purr. "Oh my fucking God."
She ran her hands over her new body, shivering at the sensitivity. Every nerve ending was amplified, every touch electric. She cupped her breasts and moaned, actually moaned, at how good it felt. The nipples were already hard, poking through the latex of the bodysuit like little pink diamonds.
She should take this off. She should call the police. She should—
Her fingers found the zipper of the bodysuit and pulled it down, revealing more and more of her flawless new skin. The cool air hit her nipples and she gasped. She shrugged the latex off her shoulders, letting it pool at her waist, and stared at her bare tits in the mirror.
"Fuck," she whispered. "Fuck, these are incredible."
She squeezed them, bounced them, pinched the nipples and watched them stiffen even more. A warmth was building between her legs, a slick heat that demanded attention. She pushed the bodysuit down further, stepping out of it entirely, and stood naked in front of the mirror.
The pussy was perfect. A neat little landing strip of dark hair, puffy lips already glistening with arousal. She spread her new legs and slid a finger between them, and the sensation nearly made her collapse.
"Ooooh… oh fuck…"
She was so sensitive. So responsive. Every touch sent sparks shooting up her spine. She found the clit – swollen, throbbing – and circled it with a manicured nail, and the moan that escaped her was pure, filthy pleasure.
She stumbled to Lexi's massive bed – her bed now – and sprawled across the silk sheets. One hand worked her pussy while the other groped her tits, and she lost herself in the sensation of this new body, this incredible, powerful, beautiful body that was now hers.
The orgasm built slowly, a tidal wave gathering force. She fingered herself faster, harder, thinking about all the men and women who had worshipped this body, who had paid thousands just for a glimpse of it, who had begged and grovelled for the privilege of touching it.
And now it was hers.
"Oh God oh God oh fuck oh FUCK—"
She came with a scream, her back arching off the bed, her pussy clenching around her fingers, waves of pleasure crashing through her so intense she thought she might pass out. She lay there afterward, panting, covered in sweat, staring at the ceiling with Lexi's eyes.
She should take the skin off now.
She really should.
Maybe just a little longer.
---
The guilt came later. It always did, with Rachel. That familiar, sickening twist in her stomach, the voice of her mother telling her she was a bad person, the weight of a lifetime of submission pressing down on her shoulders.
She peeled the skin off in Lexi's bathroom, watching in the mirror as her borrowed beauty sloughed away to reveal the mousy, forgettable woman underneath. It was like watching a butterfly crawl back into its cocoon. She folded the skin carefully – it was surprisingly pliable, almost boneless – and tucked it into her bag.
She transferred some money first. Not all of it. Just enough to pay off her and Dan's debts, to give them a cushion. Lexi wouldn't miss it. Lexi was currently a skin in a bag. Lexi wasn't going to miss anything ever again.
The thought should have horrified her. Instead, it sent a little thrill through her core.
She drove home in a daze, the bag sitting on the passenger seat like a sleeping pet. Dan was at work. Good. She needed time to think, to figure out what to do. Maybe she could find a way to reverse the process. Maybe she could turn Lexi back and just… threaten her. Make her stop. Make her understand that Rachel wasn't prey anymore.
But even as she thought it, she knew she was lying to herself. She didn't want to turn Lexi back. She wanted to be Lexi. She wanted that power, that confidence, that body. She wanted it so badly it made her teeth ache.
She hid the skin in the back of her closet, behind boxes of old clothes and forgotten memories. Then she sat on the bed and stared at the wall, trying to convince herself she was still a good person.
---
Dan came home at six. He kissed her on the cheek, asked about her day, and she lied through her teeth. Everything was fine. Nothing happened. Just a quiet day at home.
But he noticed something was off. Of course he did. Dan had always been perceptive, always attuned to her moods. "You sure you're okay, babe?" he asked over dinner. "You seem… I don't know. Different."
"I'm fine," she said. "Just tired."
That night, she lay awake beside him, listening to his breathing, thinking about the skin in the closet. She could feel it calling to her. A siren song of power and beauty and revenge.
She fell asleep eventually, and dreamed of being Lexi. Of walking through the world like she owned it. Of making people kneel.
---
She woke to an empty bed.
That wasn't unusual – Dan often got up early to go for a run. But something felt wrong. The house was too quiet. Too still.
She got up, pulled on a robe, and padded down the hallway. The closet door was open.
Her heart stopped.
She ran to it, shoving aside boxes and clothes, but she already knew what she would find. Nothing. The skin was gone.
"Dan?" she called, her voice cracking. "Dan!"
A laugh answered her. A familiar laugh. A wrong laugh.
She turned, and the world fell away.
Lexi was standing in the doorway of the bedroom.
No. Not Lexi. Dan. Dan wearing Lexi's skin, filling it out in ways that made Rachel's mouth go dry. He – she – was naked, hands on her hips, that incredible body on full display. The transformation was complete: the huge tits, the tiny waist, the flared hips, the long tanned legs, the face of a cruel angel.
But the eyes. The eyes were Dan's. Or rather, Dan's eyes filtered through Lexi's personality, sharpened and hardened into something predatory.
"Good morning, Rachel," she purred, and the voice was Lexi's voice, dripping with contempt. "Did you really think you could hide something this good from me?"
Rachel's legs went weak. "Dan, I can explain—"
"Explain what?" Lexi-Dan sauntered closer, each step a hypnotic sway of her hips. "Explain how you murdered someone and turned them into a fucking bodysuit? Explain how you've been keeping this incredible gift hidden in our closet?" She laughed again, that cruel, musical sound. "I found the instructions in your bag, babe. I know exactly what this is. And I know exactly how good it feels."
She was close now, so close Rachel could smell her – expensive perfume, clean sweat, something musky and primal underneath. Dan's hands – Lexi's hands – came up to cup Rachel's face, tilting it upward.
"I always knew there was something wrong with you," Lexi-Dan murmured. "Something broken. Something pathetic. But this…" She gestured to her new body with a sweeping hand. "This is what power looks like, Rachel. This is what it feels like to be on top. And I'm never giving it up."
"Dan, please—"
"Shhhh." A finger pressed against Rachel's lips. "That's not my name anymore. My name is Lexi. Mistress Lexi. And you…" The finger trailed down Rachel's chin, her throat, her chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "You're going to get on your knees like a good little girl and worship your new Goddess."
Rachel should have fought. Should have run. Should have done something. But the combination of fear and arousal was paralysing. And somewhere deep inside, in that dark place where she kept her most shameful desires, she wanted this. Wanted to submit. Wanted to be dominated by this beautiful, powerful creature who had once been her husband.
She sank to her knees.
Lexi-Dan smiled – a wide, triumphant smile that made her already gorgeous face almost unbearably beautiful. "Good girl. Now…" She spread her legs, revealing that perfect pussy, already glistening with arousal. "Eat."
Rachel leaned forward. The scent hit her first – clean and musky and intoxicating. Then her lips made contact, and Lexi-Dan moaned, grabbing a fistful of Rachel's hair and pulling her closer.
"That's it," she purred. "Worship me. Show me how grateful you are that I let you live."
Rachel licked and sucked and kissed, losing herself in the task. She found the clit and circled it with her tongue, and Lexi-Dan's grip on her hair tightened painfully.
"Fuck yes. Mmmmmh… you're good at this. Have you been practising, you little slut? Have you been dreaming about this?"
She had. God help her, she had. Not with Dan, but with Lexi. With the woman who had tormented her. She'd fantasised about this exact scenario a thousand times, hating herself for it every single time.
Lexi-Dan came with a shuddering moan, grinding her pussy against Rachel's face, flooding her mouth with sweetness. She held her there through the aftershocks, then finally released her, letting her slump to the floor.
"Not bad," she said, looking down at Rachel with something like amusement. "We'll have to do this again. But right now…" She stretched, catlike, showing off every inch of her incredible body. "I have some exploring to do."
She left Rachel there, on the floor, gasping for breath, covered in her husband's juices.
---
The next few days were a fever dream.
Dan – Lexi – refused to take the skin off. She paraded around the house in various states of undress, revelling in her new body, making Rachel wait on her hand and foot. She took over Lexi's social media accounts, posting new content, interacting with fans, raking in money. She was good at it – better than the original Lexi, somehow, more creative, more cruel, more compelling.
And at night, she used Rachel in ways that left them both trembling.
But Rachel was patient. Rachel was cunning. And Rachel had been the one to find the skin-ray gun in the first place.
She waited until Dan was asleep – sprawled across the bed like a conquering empress, the skin slightly loose around her in the way it always got during deep sleep. Then she crept to the closet, where she'd hidden the gun behind a false panel Dan didn't know about.
Her hands were shaking as she pulled it out. Could she do this? Could she really trap her husband inside a skin forever?
Yes, whispered the dark voice in her head. Yes, you can. Because you deserve this more than he does. Because you found it. Because it's YOURS.
She crept back to the bedroom, raised the gun—
And Dan's eyes snapped open.
"Nice try, babe."
The fight was brief and brutal. Dan was stronger in Lexi's body than Rachel was in her own, and she wrestled the gun away with humiliating ease. But she didn't shoot Rachel. Instead, she just laughed, that cruel musical laugh, and tossed the gun onto the nightstand.
"You want it that badly?" she asked. "Fine. Let's make a deal. We'll share. Take turns. One day you're Lexi, one day I am."
It was a terrible deal. Rachel knew it was a terrible deal. But the hunger was too strong. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, deal."
---
The arrangement lasted two weeks.
They swapped the skin back and forth, each of them revelling in the power it gave them. When Rachel wore it, she felt invincible – a goddess of sex and cruelty, dominating Dan with a strap-on that made him whimper and beg. She pegged him into the mattress, calling him pathetic, calling him worthless, making him thank her for every brutal thrust.
"You like that?" she snarled, Lexi's voice dripping with contempt. "You like being fucked by a real woman?"
"Yes, Mistress," he gasped. "Thank you, Mistress."
But when Dan wore the skin, the roles reversed. He was crueller than she was, more inventive, more demanding. He made her crawl. Made her beg. Made her lick his feet and worship his ass and thank him for the privilege of existing in his presence.
They were both becoming addicted. Both becoming obsessed. And both were scheming to claim the skin permanently.
---
The final confrontation happened on a Sunday afternoon.
They'd been fighting – actually fighting, screaming and shoving – over whose turn it was. The skin lay on the bed between them like a prize, a trophy, a grail. Dan lunged for it first, his hands closing around the soft material, pulling it toward him.
"It's MINE!" Rachel screamed, grabbing his wrist. "I found it! I killed for it! It's MINE!"
But Dan was stronger. He wrenched free, and before Rachel could stop him, he was stepping into the skin, pulling it up over his legs, his hips, his torso. He shoved his arms into the sleeves and pulled the mask over his face, and then—
Then he was Lexi again.
He stood before her, resplendent, magnificent, a goddess made flesh. His smile was triumphant, his eyes gleaming with cruel victory.
"Face it, Rachel," he said, Lexi's voice honey and venom. "You never had a chance. You're just a pathetic little mouse who got lucky once. But luck runs out." He cupped his massive tits, squeezed them, moaned theatrically. "These are mine now. Forever. And you…" He laughed. "You get to spend the rest of your life watching. Knowing what you lost. Knowing you'll never, ever be this powerful again."
Rachel stared at him. At her husband. At the creature wearing her stolen skin.
And then she smiled.
Dan's gloating expression faltered. "What? What's so fucking funny?"
"You forgot something," Rachel said softly.
She pulled the skin-ray gun from behind her back.
Dan's eyes went wide. "No. No, wait—"
"You forgot that I'm the one who found this," Rachel said. "I'm the one who tracked Lexi down. I'm the one who pulled the trigger the first time." She raised the gun, sighting down the barrel at her husband's stolen face. "And I'm the one who's going to do it again."
"Rachel, please! I'm your husband! I love y—"
The flash of green light was blinding.
When it faded, the skin was different. Fuller. Heavier. Because now it contained two minds instead of one.
Rachel picked it up, feeling the weight of her husband's consciousness trapped inside. She could sense him there, screaming silently, beating against the walls of his fleshy prison. But there was no escape. There never would be.
She stepped into the skin slowly, savouring every moment. Her legs slid into Lexi's legs – and Dan's legs, now, merged into the same perfect limbs. Her arms filled out those toned, tanned arms. She reached back and pulled the seam closed, feeling it seal with that satisfying click.
Then the mask.
She pulled it over her face, and the world exploded.
Two sets of memories flooded into her now. Lexi's confidence and cruelty, yes – but also Dan's presence, his consciousness, his self, compressed into a tiny corner of her mind. He was aware. He could see through her eyes, feel through her skin, experience everything she experienced.
But he couldn't do anything. Couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even influence her thoughts. He was a passenger, a prisoner, a ghost haunting his own wife's mind.
Rachel? His voice was tiny, terrified. Rachel, please, let me out. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please—
She ignored him.
She looked in the mirror – there was always a mirror nearby when you were this beautiful – and drank in the sight of herself. The perfect face. The perfect body. The perfect life, waiting to be claimed.
"Hello, gorgeous," she purred. "Let's get to work."
---
The transition was easier than she expected.
Lexi Monroe had been something of a recluse, despite her online presence. She had employees who handled logistics, accountants who managed her money, a PR team who curated her image. None of them had ever met her in person. Everything was done through screens and contracts.
Rachel – no, Lexi now, always and forever Lexi – slipped into the role like she was born for it. Because in a way, she was. The skin gave her everything she needed: Lexi's knowledge, Lexi's skills, Lexi's contacts. All she had to do was show up and be magnificent.
And she was so magnificent.
She moved into Lexi's penthouse, surrounded herself with Lexi's luxuries, lived Lexi's life. She posted content that made her fans delirious with lust. She collaborated with other dommes, attended exclusive parties, accumulated wealth and power at a rate that made her head spin.
And through it all, Dan watched.
He felt every orgasm that ripped through their shared body – and there were many. Lexi was insatiable, her sex drive seemingly limitless. She fucked men and women with equal enthusiasm, always on top, always in control, always taking exactly what she wanted.
Please, Dan would beg, his voice a tiny whisper in the back of her mind. Please, Rachel, I can't take it anymore. Let me out. Let me go.
But she never responded. Never acknowledged him. He was nothing to her now – less than nothing. A trophy. A reminder of her total, absolute victory.
---
Six months later, a missing persons report was filed for Rachel and Dan Holloway. The police investigated, found nothing, and eventually the case went cold. Their families mourned. Their friends moved on. The world forgot they ever existed.
But Lexi Monroe? Lexi Monroe was thriving.
She stood on the balcony of her penthouse, looking out over the glittering city, a glass of champagne in her hand. The evening air was warm against her skin – her skin now, in every way that mattered. She could still feel Dan in there somewhere, a tiny ember of consciousness buried deep in her psyche. But he'd stopped begging months ago. Stopped fighting. Now he just… watched. Experienced. Suffered in silence.
She took a sip of champagne and smiled.
"You know," she said aloud, her voice a husky purr, "I used to be so scared of you. Of Lexi, I mean. She made my life hell. Made me feel worthless. Small. Pathetic." She laughed softly. "And now look at me. I am her. I'm everything she was and more. I'm beautiful. I'm powerful. I'm rich." She turned to look at her reflection in the glass door, admiring the way her designer dress hugged her curves. "I'm fucking perfect."
Deep in her mind, Dan screamed.
She finished her champagne and went inside, already thinking about tonight's content. She had a new submissive to break in – some tech millionaire who'd paid a small fortune for the privilege of being humiliated by Mistress Lexi. She'd make him crawl. Make him beg. Make him worship her perfect ass while she scrolled through her phone, bored and dismissive.
And Dan would feel all of it. Every touch. Every sensation. Every moment of power and pleasure.
Forever.
Rachel Holloway was gone. Dan Holloway was gone. There was only Lexi now, and Lexi was everything.
She caught her reflection one last time as she headed to the bedroom, and blew herself a kiss.
"God, I love being me," she whispered.
And somewhere deep inside, in the prison of his own mind, her husband could only weep as she laughed and laughed and laughed.
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