There's no better choice... find a skin to take

It wasn’t going to get any better. These urges were just going to grow stronger and stronger. The only way was to take a skin and satisfy them, at least for a while.

Thinking this, it should have felt like defeat. The crumbling of my will to resist, a betrayal of the long weeks spent out of a skin. But instead… it felt like triumph. I pulled my hood down low as I walked quickly, losing myself in thought as I wound my way closer to the rougher parts of town. I couldn’t tell if it was my own happiness at knowing I would finally be free for a while of the little sufferings I’d endured during my fast, or if it was the skinwalker side altering my thoughts subtly to make anything that advanced its agenda seem joyous to me. Maybe I was just relieved to finally feel like I had some agency in this; to finally have the power of choice, acting like deciding the time and place where I turned someone made me a willing participant in this, rather than a **** junkie, unable to put off the next fix.

My self-indulgent considerations more than ate up the time before I found myself near the red light district, my feet naturally guiding myself to a place the sat outside the sphere of respectable society, and where shade both literal and figurative obscured many of the dealings that took place.

It may seem strange this city even had a red-light district; a medium sized college city, and stranger still with prostitution being illegal. But then again, even if it couldn’t necessarily be seen, this was a city where a lot of money moved, with some of the most exclusive educational institutions leading the children of the very rich to live here, and their parent’s money to follow.

Wealth like that, so very concentrated, bred divergent conditions from much of the country. If the cities elite wanted something, they could get it. ****, sex, the lowest perversions. The law was an extension of their will, rather than anything they would ever have to abide by. And so it seemed that a red light district existed as a very open secret, obvious prostitutes both high and low class alike catering to those who needed their services, neon lined streets painting melting watercolors in the puddles as I shuffled by, a sickly look on my face as I approached the edge where I’d lose all composure.

The central streets of the district were much too busy; even on a random October night like tonight, men in suits, tired of work and their wives, were busy chatting up women in PVC boots and sheer dresses, handfuls of cash passing between them, some discreet, others less so.

I veered to the side, grateful for the relative darkness as I moved into an alleyway, finding my steps naturally assumed the quiet stalking pace of a predator, skinwalker instincts re-writing my ordinary gait with their efficient brutality. The alley was empty, and as was the next one. I was finding myself on the very edge of the red light district now, not nearly one of the areas frequented by the successful girls and impressive clientele.

I just hoped I would find someone alone, I didn’t care who. Finding a tired businessman seemed ideal; his outward appearance would match how haggard I felt inside, and I knew I’d take the opportunity to use his money to screw one of these prostitutes and relax a little while I was here.

Just as I was about to turn back though, I saw it. The spark of a light as a cigarette was lit, illuminating dyed blonde hair and eyes that had maybe seen too much. Almost unconsciously, I moved towards her. She didn’t hear as I approached, lost in her cigarette with a miserable look on her face; no need to pretend in this empty street.

I was amazed at how strong the skinwalker instincts were, a million small **** changes to the way I moved my legs making me somehow more graceful and silent as I moved up behind her. Black PVC boots, thigh high, shone up her narrow legs and terminated by her thighs, a seductive sliver before the skirt of her tight black dress. She was skinny and a little pale, almost looking unhealthy and a little malnourished, but still sexy in a dirty, slutty way.

It was clear she wasn’t one of the more successful prostitutes, down on her luck likely in several ways.

A girl like this must have it so difficult… her life must have so much struggle, so much misery. In a way, it would be doing both of us a favor. She could use a holiday from all of this! Let me take over, while she relaxes, safe and **** as my vessel.

The twisted logic seemed to whisper in my brain as I reached out, spines hungrily seeming to grow towards her back, stealth taking me so close to her without her notice. As soon as I smelt her perfume, time blurred as I lunged, the hunger unable to be contained. She didn’t even have time to scream as she was penetrated by the spines, so much skinwalker liquid rushing out at once that she was almost entirely deflated before her cigarette had hit the ground.

I moved fluidly to catch her skin and pull it into the shadows, resting under the overhang of a warehouse roof as I tore off my own clothes and peeled her mouth open. Her dress fell away but her boots didn’t as my legs rushed into hers, threatening their integrity before the pins and needles hit and turned my lower body into hers.

I tried to stifle my moans as her well used pussy snaked between my thighs and replaced my insides, stealing the most intimate parts of a girl who’s name I didn’t even know for myself. Happy ecstasy burst around my brain as her torso and arms stuck to mine, the tight compression and the initial hot slimy feeling of her skinsuit giving way to the natural comfort as her body became mine, the weight of my new breasts pulling happily under gravity as I felt them on my chest.

It feels so comfy inside her!

My head felt freezing, left exposed on top, her lips wrapped tight around my neck, leaving an otherwise impossible type of lipstick stain. It was like my body was finally inside a cabin after a long winter hike; long enough that I’d almost forgotten what warmth was, and how happy it felt to experience it.

I can’t wait any longer… I need to become her totally!

I pulled her face up over mine, closing my eyelids as hers went over them, feeling the tightness all around, my vision almost going white with the pressure before it all subsided, and all that was left was the subtle feeling of cosmetics on my new face, and the long, dyed blonde hair I now had.

As I opened my eyes, I could see perfectly the female body stretching down in front of me.

“Mmmm, now this is a sight for sore eyes.”

Her voice sounded sexy and surprisingly **** leaving my lips, as I ran my fingers over my new skin. The coldness of an October night was totally forgotten now, the satisfying comfort of finally being in a skin after so long more than making up for it.

I laughed a little as I noticed I’d slipped inside her thigh high boots as well as her skin, puzzling over how it was possible. Had bones dislocated in an effort to slide inside without me noticing? Or had they changed properties, my skeleton turning amorphous underneath my real muscles and flesh, monstrous instinct overriding nature in its vile enthusiasm to assume this woman’s form?

Either way, as soon as my feet had taken the shape of hers, I’d stood in these heels as naturally as I would have in sneakers. I walked around, enjoying the sound of them clicking on the concrete as my ass and tits moved with the motion, an elated giggle following at just how pleasurable I always seemed to feel once I got inside a woman’s body.

It feels like I forget all about my troubles as soon as I get inside a skin…

“Well, I’d better get presentable at least.”

I giggled again as I talked just to hear my new voice, before I slipped her dress on. Black and short, it was simple but slutty, and I loved how it showed off my new body. Still though, this form did leave a lot to be desired.

Her mouth tasted a little like an ashtray, and the little itch I felt inside her mind I chalked up to the newfound nicotine addiction that came with the skin. I idly plucked up her purse and took out a cigarette, sparking it with a lighter with the branding of a gas station chain on the side. The first drag felt rich as it filled her lungs, relaxing and whole.

It felt so trippy taking so much pleasure in nicotine. As myself I knew this would have been disgusting, but as this girl…

Flicking open her make-up mirror, I looked at my new face. I looked like a young woman who’d seen too much and was almost aged a little beyond her years. Her hair was a dyed ash blonde with natural brunette at the roots, and there was a touch of world weariness in the eyes I wore, that added such a strange quality to the natural prettiness of their oceanic color. Her body had sexy curves but it seemed like they’d been reduced, drawn back either by malnutrition or an eating disorder. She was still sexy, but she had a touch of the toxic beauty standards to the early 2000s to her look, a time when Paris Hilton espoused the mantra “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”

I felt a curious distance and pity for her, which felt incredibly strange considering she was currently my new face.