Tasha

You arrive at the comic shop just as it was about to close. Sighing in relief you entered, meeting none other than the owner herself, Tasha.

She looked at you with a less than pleased look before glancing at the nearby clock. From the way she grumbled you knew she was less than thrilled to entertain your sudden presence. "What can I get you?" She asked as she continued to lock up.

"Is your grandpa here?" You questioned.

"No, he's out of town on some business," she answered not even paying attention to you, rude.

"Oh," you responded trying to sound disappointed. You waited till her back was turned, making sure no one else was in the store or able to see you from outside. "That's too bad," you spoke as you took out the gun and immediately fire at Tasha.

It didn't even make a sound as Tasha deflated before your eyes, leaving a skin suit right before you. You wasted no time on grabbing it and immediately headed into the back of the store.

The suit lay limp in your hands, still warm from Tasha's stolen life. You stretched the mouth hole wider with trembling fingers, the material resisting at first before yielding with an unnatural elasticity. The opening gaped like a hungry maw as you stepped one foot inside, feeling the suit cling to your ankle with disturbing intimacy.

Your other leg followed, the material slithering up your calves with a wet sound that shouldn't have been possible. As you pulled the torso up over your hips, you felt the interior lining pulse faintly against your skin, tiny tendrils of the suit seeking purchase.

The arms came next - you **** your fingers through the stiff sleeves, watching as the empty blonde hair flopped against your chest.

You pulled the chest portion up with a sharp tug, feeling the skin constrict around your ribs like a second skin. The material molded itself to your torso with sickening precision, the white tank top and jacket forming seamlessly over your new shape. As you worked the neck hole over your head, a wave of warmth flooded through you.

The final struggle came with the hair. The blonde waves clung to the scalp of the suit, and as you **** your face through the opening, the strands slithered against your cheeks like living tendrils.

Your vision swam as the suit sealed over your eyes, the world distorting for one dizzying moment before snapping into perfect clarity through Tasha's light blue irises. A shudder ran through your new body as the last of the suit's interior tendrils fused with your nerve endings, making every strand of blonde hair feel suddenly alive and responsive. You flexed Tasha's fingers experimentally, watching the manicured nails glint under the shop's fluorescent lights—already they felt more natural than your own hands ever had.

The jacket shifted on your shoulders as you turned toward the backroom mirror, your—her—reflection staring back with cold recognition.