She Aces It!

I'm standing in front of the mirror in one of the spacious changing rooms of my lair, a knot of nerves twisting in my stomach. Mark's right beside me, offering reassurances in his own awkward, nerdy way.

"I'm shit at accents, especially French ones," I grumble, my reflection frowning back at me.

"Just focus on the appearance first," Mark advises, pushing up his glasses. "You nailed it when you became the perfect girlfriend for me. Remember?"

A chuckle escapes me as the memory floods in and I'm surprised to find a warm fondness for that time, despite the twisted circumstances. The lines between **** loyalty and genuine enjoyment blur uncomfortably in my mind.

On a whim, I let my form shift. My height shrinks, my skin lightens, and freckles dust across my nose. My hair lightens to a fiery red and cuts short, framing my face, while my eyes become a vibrant green. My chest swells, the weight of my new, big natural tits a familiar sensation. I turn to Mark, my voice altering to that smooth, gentle tone I used back then.

Mark's eyes widen, and he gulps audibly, his arousal unmistakable. "We should visit my parents again soon," he says, his voice tight. "They've been asking about you."

"And I'd be happy to hang off your arm again," I purr, the role settling over me like a second skin.

But then Mark clears his throat, pulling us back to the task at hand. "Focus, we need Mystique Mirage."

I nod, letting the playful guise melt away. I watch in the mirror as my body elongates, my hair bleaching to a stunning platinum blonde that cascades down my back like a waterfall. My skin takes on a subtle tan, and my eyes shift to a hypnotic blue. The indigo bodysuit of Mystique Mirage wraps around my form, hugging every curve with a shimmer that makes it seem alive. Silver filigree snakes up my sides, and an elegant mask veils my eyes, leaving just enough mystery.

"There," I say, my voice now carrying a hint of a French accent, though it's not perfect. "How do I look?"

Mark steps back, eyeing me with a mix of admiration and calculation. "You look like her, but can you act like her?"

I clear my throat and try out Mystique's voice, fumbling through a few sentences. It's like trying to tune an instrument by ear, and I'm no virtuoso when it comes to accents. I keep at it, repeating phrases, tweaking the pitch, the cadence. Then, as I string together one long sentence, something clicks. It's like my shapeshifter's instinct finally syncs up with my vocal cords, and I've got it.

Mark's staring at me with those wide eyes of his, and I can't help but wonder if he's getting turned on by the sight of me looking like the hot French super. The ray's effects make me more than willing to give Mark what he wants, but does he want this?

I decide to just fucking ask him. "So, you fancy a go with me as Mystique Mirage, or you holding out for me to switch back?" I ask, eyebrows raised. "You haven't fucked me in a while…"

He chuckles, a blush creeping up his neck. "Tempting as it is, the memories I have of her are a bit… disturbing. I'd rather have you in your natural glory—or as my cute redhead girlfriend," he adds with that familiar, cheeky wink of his.

I nudge Mark playfully, my lips curling into a smirk. "How about we pencil in some quality time later today?" I suggest, and I'm genuinely pleased when he nods. It's odd, considering I'm still very much into women—something that damn ray hasn't changed—but I can't shake the feeling of being a little left out with all the other hotties Mark's got his hands on lately. Not to mention, there's this gnawing desire to please him, and sex is one hell of an efficient way to do that.

The thought hits a little too close to home, mirroring the feedback loop that trapped Mystique Mirage. A shiver runs down my spine, but I shake it off and refocus on the task at hand.

With a sigh, I step out of the changing room and into the lab, Mark trailing behind me. The sight that greets me is both ridiculous and oddly heartwarming—a dozen Clonicas, all cheering and clapping. The cute Asian has pulled out all the stops, creating a one-woman fan club just for me.

I give them a bow, slipping into the role of the French seductress. "Merci, mes chéries, your support is très appreciated," I say, my voice a sultry purr with just a touch of French flair. The Clonicas erupt into even louder cheers, and I can't help but feel a bit of a thrill at playing the part so well.

Sienna strides over with Mystique Mirage's smartphone in hand, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Here you go," she says, handing me the device. "It's unlocked, and all her social media accounts are ready for you."

Taking the phone, I feel that familiar twinge of adrenaline, like I'm about to step onto a battlefield. Infiltrations are nothing new to me, but this… this is different. I scroll through the phone, finding the camera app and flipping it to selfie mode. The face of Mystique Mirage stares back at me, and I can't help but marvel for a moment at the perfect illusion.

With a deep breath, I channel all those videos I'd studied of the French beauty, letting her mannerisms and poise seep into my bones. I hit record and flash the camera my most dazzling smile, the kind that's made for the silver screen.

"Bonjour, my adoring fans," I begin, my voice laced with that unmistakably French lilt. "I have some très exciting news! I have decided to join a new league here in Metrotown, and I must bid adieu to my tour. Merci to all the leagues who have offered me positions, and to the wonderful supers I've had the pleasure of meeting. But now, it's time for a new adventure. So à bientôt, and stay fabulous!"

I end the recording with a flirty wink, the kind that Mystique Mirage would have nailed, and cut the feed. There's a moment of silence before the Clonicas burst into applause, and I can't help but feel a rush of pride. Mission fucking accomplished.

Mark's eyes are practically glowing with pride. "You did great," he tells me, and I can't help feeling a little victorious at the praise.

"Let's celebrate, then" I say, morphing into the redheaded girlfriend he loves so much. I even tweak her curves a bit more, nothing too drastic, but maybe enough to tip him over the edge.

He's struggling to keep his composure now, and I can see the heat in his eyes. "Maybe you deserve a reward for a job well done," he muses.

I cock an eyebrow, a playful smile on my lips. "Sounds more like a reward for you, doesn't it? But I'm feeling generous today."

Mark laughs, a sound that's half embarrassment, half anticipation. "Well, I'll gladly accept that reward on your behalf," he says, and then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he adds, "Now, why don't you get naked for me?"

The Clonicas, ever the crude bunch, holler from the sidelines. "Can we join in?" one of them shouts, but Mark shoots them down quick. "Why don't you just play with yourselves?"

They don't need telling twice, the sounds of their moans filling the lab as they get busy with their own bodies.

I start making my clothes vanish from the rest of me, but Mark stops me with a chuckle. "Do it the right way, strip for me."

I'm about to remind him that these clothes are just an extension of my shapeshifting self, but fuck it, I go with it. I make a show of sliding each piece off, letting the material linger at the edge of existence before it disappears completely, garment by garment.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Sienna watching, her curiosity palpable. I wonder if she's hoping for an invite or just enjoying the show.

As I pretend to drop the last piece of my shapeshifted clothes, standing in front of Mark completely bare, I can feel his eyes devouring the sight of me in my cute redhead girlfriend form. My large, natural tits stand perky and inviting, and my freckles seem to invite touches all over my smooth skin.

Mark can't seem to contain himself; he strides toward me and his hands are instantly on me, groping my tits, causing a moan to escape my lips. It's not arousal that wrings the sound from me—I'm still as gay as they come—but there's a deep satisfaction in pleasing him that I can't deny, a satisfaction that seems to grow stronger each time. I can't help but wonder if all of us under Mark's command are experiencing a watered-down version of Mystique Mirage's mental rewiring. I make a mental note to keep an eye on that, just to be safe.

Then, without warning, he pushes me onto the cold ground of the lair. I gasp at the sudden chill, a giggle bubbling out of me despite the situation. He leans down, his breath hot against my ear, and whispers, "I'm going to fuck your pussy right here, right now."

And fuck, if that isn't exactly what I want him to do. My body may not crave him, but the desire to obey, to please him is overwhelming. "Then what are you waiting for?" I whisper back, spreading my legs in open invitation, ready for him to claim me as he pleases.

As Mark positions himself behind me, his cock slides into my pussy with a firm thrust, stretching me in that familiar, full way that makes my body react despite my mind's protests. The drag of his dick in and out of me, the wet sound of our fucking, it's all mechanical, but I can't ignore the deep-rooted satisfaction I get from knowing I'm the cause of his grunts of pleasure. It's a twisted feeling, one that's got nothing to do with my own desire, but it's there all the same, growing stronger with each thrust.

He's panting now, leaning over me, and his hot breath fans my ear as he speaks, "I want something from you, Kat."

"What is it?" I ask, **** to fulfill whatever need he has, dutiful and eager.

"I want you to want me," he gasps out between thrusts. "To love me."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. Fuck, that's not something I can just pull out of my ass. My loyalty to him, that's one thing, but love? Desire? I'm not wired for that, not when it comes to him. The ray compels me to please, but feelings aren't so easily fabricated, not even for a shapeshifter. I'm dizzy with the conflict of it as he keeps moving inside me, his cock relentlessly fucking my pussy.

I glance over and catch Sienna's eye. She's biting her lip, clearly turned on by the sight of us. The Clonicas are a mess of limbs and moans, fucking each other without a care. It's a scene straight out of a fever dream. But as Mark drives into me again, I can't think about anything else but the here and now, the way he's using my body, the way I'm wired to please. And if that's what he wants, goddammit, I'll give it my best shot.