Resist more... get back to the apartment!

I couldn’t just turn some stranger into a skinsuit! Even when I was filled with this terrifying urge to turn anyone, I knew it was wrong. I would clench my fists till my knuckles went white right now, if I wouldn’t accidentally skewer my palms.

I felt a cold sweat mix with the fear I felt as I stumbled a little in the direction of my apartment. An almost queasy feeling rolled around my stomach as I what was left of my resolve steeled itself, resisting even thinking about taking a skin being a heroic effort all on its own.

It feels so unpleasant… in a twisted, disgusting way, NOT deciding to take a skin feels like the wrong choice. How deeply has my skinwalker side already re-wired my brain…?

Time seemed to blur and stretch as I shuffled towards my apartment, three streets flashing by almost in an instant while a fourth might seem to stretch for what felt like hours. In reality, I knew I had to have only been walking a little slower than normal; but in practice, my perceptions were becoming so warped that it felt like I was falling into a labyrinth of my own mind.

As I scanned the electronic reader that let me into my building, I found myself crawling on all fours up the stairs that lead to the floor of my apartment. Each step I struggled up, I caught sight of my hand and the painfully full spines **** out of my fingertips, serving as a pulsing reminder of how desperately my body was crying out to slide inside the safety of someone else’s.

Fumbling with my keys like a drunk, I found a pressure starting to form in the fingertips of my free hand; it seems the spines wouldn’t be content bursting out of only a single hand. I dry swallowed out of nerves, so wired I failed to notice my mouth was too parched to get any saliva going.

All I have to do is get back to my room. That’s it! And then I’ll be free, free to lock myself inside and ride out this terrifying feeling…

The door fell open under my weight as the keys removed the last barrier between me and the apartment, too **** to care about locking the front door behind me as I hurried to my room. It sat near the end of the thankfully empty corridor, filling me with fraught elation, a **** hope that I wouldn’t see a soul, and have my will to resist tested more than ever before.

Halfway down the corridor though, I heard a noise from the kitchen.

I turned, the door to the kitchen sitting ajar, light spilling out and the sounds of cooking emanating from within. I couldn’t hear the sound of conversation that normally denoted Alicia and Frank’s mutual dinners, and with Grace in the library that meant it had to be….

The door opened, and Jessica was revealed, a sour expression on her face. She gave me a dirty look as she took in my pitiful and wretched appearance, cold sweat covering a pallid and pale face, every inch the picture of a dilapidated junkie in the midst of withdrawal.

Lately Jessica had been returning more and more to the confident, bitchy and consistently vicious girl she’d been at the start of the year. She seemed to leave Grace alone, thankfully, yet around Alicia, Frank and I, she hadn’t been afraid to start making pointed and rude comments once again.

It seems like the trauma from her non-specific yet terrifyingly missing memories was fading with time…

“Alex. Hmpf, back from drinks under the overpass? Or maybe a fancy dinner from the bins of KFC?”

She laughed, a cruel sense of power seeming to flow to her again, her confidence finding itself returning through making sport of someone who appeared to be suffering and down on their luck.

She chose the wrong time to run into me.

I gulped again, as I fought to pull my eyes away from her. Almost hypnotically, they roved over her body, baggy sweatpants for comfort, coupled with only a sports bra for sex appeal, left her taut abs and perfect, perky boobs on full display. Her toned arms and soft, pale skin seemed to glow just a little, seeming intoxicating even under the crappy fluorescent lights in the kitchen.

Who was Jessica to speak to me like that? I’d dominated her and made her my bitch, reducing her to both my cum dumpster and my favorite outfit, her skin being mine to wear and enjoy as I pleased. I’d just been kind enough to make her forget.

But I could never forget, never forget how indulgent it felt fucking as her, crying out as her voice and squeezing her breasts on my chest, stealing her identity to chat to her friends, as they failed to detect I was anything less than the real Jessica. And in a way, I had been the real Jessica. I’d had hear speech, her skin, her mannerisms, and her soul. Who could say I hadn’t been the real her? A better her, able to use her beautiful body to be a ****, better girl. Who’s to say I shouldn’t do that again?

“Aww, are you too stunned by me to speak? Or maybe just too stupid or **** up to even speak English anymore?”

She taunted, a cruel, smug look twisting her pretty face. I felt the spines hidden in the pocket of my hoodie twitch, aching to use them on her.