Echo Skins

ECHO SKINS

Chapter 1 – The Skin Beneath

He used to be Richard.

That name meant something once—before the mimicry, before the melting flesh and stolen memories. But now it was just a whisper in the dark. What mattered was the skin he wore. The life he could steal. The power he could taste once inside.

This time, the prize was Senator Eleanor Voss.

She looked like a ghost from a bygone era of steel-spined conservatism—an older Sarah Palin, sharpened by age and ambition. Her glasses perched low on her nose gave her the constant look of appraisal, of disapproval. Her dark hair was always tied back in a severe ponytail, not a strand allowed rebellion. Power clung to her like perfume, but so did repression.

She wore tailored suits, high collars, and modest heels—the uniform of virtue. But underneath, Richard had discovered something raw and ravenous.

A kink.

She longed to be dominated. Not by any man—by a Black man. Not in romance. In ruin.

She loathed herself for it. Richard could see it in the stiffness of her shoulders, in the clipped way she addressed Devon Hale, her personal security. Devon was everything she pretended not to want: ex-military, tall, broad, skin like obsidian, presence like thunder. He was the kind of man she claimed to admire for discipline.

But Richard saw her pupils betray her. The flush at her throat when Devon stood too close. She wanted him.

So Richard took him.

It began in the steam.

Devon had finished his late-night workout, glistening with sweat, muscles taut and relaxed in equal measure. The gym’s private shower hummed with heat. Richard approached wearing another man's face—a flirtatious donor from the evening’s fundraiser. Young. Eager. Disarming. Devon none the wiser.

A smile. A touch. That's how it starts. The mimic, the target will begin to feel warm from their core. Euphoric even.

A kiss.

Devon recoiled, confused, but Richard moved like liquid. The mimicry activated as their skin connected. Devons resistants fading as Richard, grabs the back of Devons neck.Tounges now dancing in a fiery passion. And Devon isn't gay. The mimickry causes the victim to give into humanity's deepest desires. Flesh began to steam. An not from the showers, as Richard turned the big hunk of a man around. Hands on the wall. Devon was so lost, confused, and to turned on to even question what was happening to him. "Oh fuck!" said Devon and Richard in scary unison. As Richard slowly **** his new manhood into Devons virgin asshole. Inch by inch. Feeling the mimic begin to start. He turns Devon around makes him ride him cowgirl on the ground, they way devons Hunk of a body was that of a ragdall, always made Richard harder then rocks when his victims do so, so willingly. Devon can now see the visceral transformation. Devon screamed, but steam smothered the sound, Skin began to peel from Richard's body. Bones softened. The sounds of the bones cracking and reshaping, the wet sound of muscles changing into bolder versions, his manhood changing inside Devon, Memories begin to leak.

The mimic absorbed him whole. Devons eyes showed fear, and extacy. While Richard's showed pleasure, and dominance. The feeling of becoming someone new, taking their life all for his own. He relished in that feeling.

When the hissing stopped, only Richard remained dripping in goop mixed with his old identity and new—taller, darker, sculpted from **** and discipline body. Looking down at the pile of melted flesh like gloop. Richard takes what memories Devon has, and pervious lives. And finds a cabinet with bleach and other cleaning supplies. Naked, and hard. cleans his former self.

Once clean, showers once more, when he was done. Devon Hale stared back from the mirror, with the most devilish look in his eyes. Preditory even.

But it wasn’t Devon anymore.

The transformation wasn’t finished. Not until Richard made the body his in the most intimate way possible. He wanted to do it in the shower, but knew he had taken way to long. Gathered his clothes, found his locker (while stuffing his old locker with his formers clothes.) before he left. Stood very still, closed his eyes. Thought very hard about his last life. Body begins to shake on a molecular level, his atoms split. In moments, Devon is sharing the locker room with his old self. Mike.. Mike is a blank hollow. That's what Richard calls them anways. We'll go into more detail about that later. He gives instructions to his hollow. "go back to living your life, but before you do, you're going to go back with me to my room. And help me finish my transformation into this body. You'll love it, every second. Then when tomorrow comes. You leave, and continue your life got that?" Devon said to Mike. "yes master." Mike smiles.

He took what knowledge he gathered from his new infant brain. To find his hotel room Mike in toe... Some moments later locks his room door, still sweating from the transformation striping his clothes to inspect his new form, and stood before the mirror. The form was flawless. He ran his hands over the stolen skin—biceps, thighs, chest, jawline.

The body responded, hardening in his grip. Mike just standing motionless in the doorway of the bathroom. Devon looks at Mike with a predictory look, "you're going to be my bitch twink tonight." Devon said with a sinister grin. As if on cue, Mike a blank face from before. Turns into that of pure arousal and lust. "oh daddy, will you please, please stuff my virgin man pussy with your big fat black cock?!" running to the bed and jumping on all fours for devons massive snake to dominate.

This part wasn’t just necessary. It was intoxicating.

As he stroked himself, the memories came. Rushing in with euphoric intent.... - it started - he thought. Rubbing his massive 10 inch cobra, pressing the cockhead to that virgin man pussy. He was not about to be gentle. No, he was going to make that pussy his. Degrading both of these men, brought the most pleasure.

With one big grunt, and massive shove into Mike's virgin pussy. And a yell from Mike's lips and you penatrate him to the hilt. "oh my fucking god!" Mike screams.

Memories start to rush in as you begin to piston. Gunfire in Kandahar. Blood in the sand. A brother lost. Secret missions, assassinations. Government overthows. All of his deepest secrets, opening up to him like an open book.

Long nights with no one. The scent of bourbon. The ache of loyalty.

And then, he found it. Her, The way Eleanor's eyes lingered too long when she thought Devon wasn’t watching.

The guilt. The shame. The arousal.

When he climaxed, the mimicry completed. He was Devon now. Voice, instincts, gait. Even the scent of the man's skin seeped into his pores. Pounding Mike's man pussy with a new form of dominance, picturing one of Devons blonde bombshell he destroyed on night on a mission to Germany. Flipping her over on her back. Watching the face of extacy envelope her innocence. Taking that cue. Devon does the same to Mike. "take it, take this fat black cock you white racist piece of shit. Tell me how you'd never do something like this!?" "yes daddy, oh fuck. Keep pounding my virgin man pussy. I've always looked down on your people because I was jealous of these fucking cobra you posses. Now I understand why women love them so much. That can turn anyone..." grunting from the anal beating "any.. One.. Oh god! Into a bitch in heat! oh fuck daddy I'm coming!!" streams of cum land on his chest. Just then Devons massive pipe begins to swell and dump load after load into Mike's virgin pussy. Laying down next to him in sweat.

The rest of the night, him and hollow Mike would do the worst things to one another.

And with the transformation came clarity.

Eleanor was ****. Her secret shame was a door left ajar.

He would enter her life through it.

The transformation into Devon was a week ago

But Richard wasn’t reckless.

This wasn’t his first infiltration.

He knew the value of patience.

The Plan

He wouldn’t take her all at once.

No. He’d seduce her. As Devon.

Slowly. With precision.

He’d brush her hand too long. Speak her name just a little too softly. Let his eyes linger. He’d give her what she craved: submission in disguise. Power wrapped in obedience.

And when she gave in—when she was on her knees, begging the very man she pretended to scorn—he’d tighten the leash.

While doing all of this....he’d take her family one by one first her daughter or husband or even her best friend. That way, he can fully ruin her life. From every angle. Every interaction, planned to a T. He was already forming the perfect plan in his new Devon brain.

They were all Background noise. A forgotten fixture in Eleanor’s carefully staged life.

But they had value.

Mimicking them would let Richard play all ends—husband, daughter, son, best friend, and lover. Devotion and degradation.

Imagine Eleanor slipping into her marital bed only to find her husband forceful fucking their daughter or her best friend. Or her husband acting like Devon, Confident. Whispering the same filthy things Devon did over the time of the seduction. Driving her to madness. Only for her best friend to go with the idea of her deceding into madness. She’d lose herself.

And when she was fully unmoored, drowning in confusion and desire?

That’s when he’d melt her.

Take her skin. Her memories. Her power.

And Eleanor Voss—America’s moral compass—would be just another echo in the dark.

Richard licked his lips.

He was already hard again.

The seduction had begun.

Not with words.

But with skin.....

Devon Hale walked with quiet purpose. His shoulders squared, eyes constantly scanning, muscles always a breath away from tension. But inside that body now lived Richard—hungry, calculating, wearing stolen skin with the ease of a second soul.

Infiltration had always been an art, and Richard prided himself on precision. Now, as Devon, he could move through Senator Eleanor Voss’s world without raising a single alarm.

The first step was simple: vet everyone in her orbit.

He began with her husband.

Greg Voss was a non-entity in Eleanor’s public persona—bland, absent, occasionally smiling in photographs like a man unsure of his place. Richard watched him carefully during brief encounters. He observed the way Greg kissed Eleanor’s cheek instead of her lips. The way he lingered on his phone during events. He was distant, checked-out, but still tethered to the family name.

Perfect.

Then came the children. Both over eighteen. Both politically present but rarely outspoken.

Benjamin Voss, 24. Shy, Ivy League. Clean-cut. A rising legal mind shadowing the D.C. elite. But Richard saw it—the heavy drinking when no one was looking, the shame in his posture, the way he avoided Eleanor’s gaze. Mommy issues wrapped in a law degree.

And then there was savannah.

Twenty-one, defiant, beautiful. Tattoo hidden beneath a cardigan. The kind of girl who smirked during church sermons and rolled her eyes during interviews. She played the part but hated the stage. Richard liked her already.

He cataloged them all.

Eleanor’s best friend, however, was the true wildcard.

Margaret Kane—Maggie—was a former campaign manager turned policy advisor. She was sharp, loyal, and just suspicious enough to be dangerous. A woman who drank whiskey neat and looked every man squarely in the eyes. Richard watched her the way a predator watches a rival.

If he moved too fast, Maggie would notice. So he didn’t.

He played the long game. He asked Eleanor about her day, her meetings, her stress. He remembered birthdays and favorite meals. He let her see Devon as stable. Safe. Dependable.

And under that dependable mask, he mapped their world.

He had Devon’s military instincts, intelligence training, and psychological readouts. He knew how to deconstruct behavior. How to find cracks in the armor.

He learned savannahs preferred bar. Ben's secret boyfriend. Maggie’s tell when she was bluffing.

And slowly, Eleanor’s walls will began to thin.

She let him in, piece by piece. A conversation late at night. A lingering hand on his forearm. A sigh that didn’t match her words.

She was unraveling.

And Richard hadn’t even touched her yet.

He smiled to himself as he adjusted his cufflinks in the mirror of the Voss estate’s guest quarters.

He was patient. He was watching.

And soon, he’d be inside her world completely.

Inside her.

The seduction would be inevitable.

Because Richard was already under her skin.

Devon’s presence became gravity.

Eleanor couldn’t remember exactly when it started, only that it was there now—inescapable. When he opened doors for her, her skin tingled. When he stepped behind her in the elevator, her breath hitched. His cologne clung to her memory longer than it should have.

But it wasn’t just physical.

It was the way he watched her.

Never too long. Never obvious. But each glance was precise, calculating. Like he could see beneath the tailored suits, the speeches, the practiced decorum—to the writhing core of something unspeakable.

Richard, wearing Devon like a tailored suit, moved with silent confidence. He had studied her tells—how she pressed her lips when annoyed, the twitch at her brow when aroused. He used the knowledge to his advantage.

A compliment too genuine. A touch that lingered. A look held one breath too long.

The effect was corrosive. Eleanor was unraveling.

She began dressing differently. Not drastically. But the necklines shifted. The fabrics softened. Silk replaced cotton. Her heels got higher.

She scolded herself in the mirror.

And still, she allowed it.

One late night, after a fundraiser, Eleanor entered her home in a hush of exhaustion. Devon was already there—he had driven her, as always—but he hadn’t left. He stood in the foyer, still in his pressed uniform.

“Ma’am,” he said, voice low and thunderous.

“Devon,” she answered, faltering.

“You seemed… tense tonight.”

“I’m fine,” she lied.

He stepped forward.

“May I help you unwind?”

Eleanor stared, frozen. A silence stretched between them until she finally nodded.

It started with a massage. His hands were warm, firm, confident—skimming her shoulders, unfastening her tension with clinical precision. She told herself it was professional. Necessary.

But when his hands dipped lower, brushing the top of her thighs through the pencil skirt, she didn’t stop him.

When he leaned in, breath hot against her ear, she tilted her head back.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“I need this,” she exhaled, barely audible.

He didn’t kiss her—not yet. That would be too merciful. Instead, he let his fingers press at her inner thighs, close enough to tease but never touch. He whispered commands she didn’t know she craved. Made her beg without using the word.

And then he left.

She was breathless, shaking, undone.

---

Maggie noticed the change first.

Eleanor was too calm. Too quiet. And yet, flushes of heat bloomed across her cheeks at random moments. She snapped less in meetings. She touched her lips in thought more often. Maggie, her oldest friend and chief of staff, was no fool.

One evening, she cornered Devon—Richard—in the office hallway.

“She’s been different,” Maggie said. “What did you say to her?”

Richard met her eyes with Devon’s practiced calm.

“I follow orders, Ms. Wren. Nothing more.”

But Maggie didn’t buy it.

She would dig. She would become a problem.

Which made her perfect.

Another crack to slip through.

Another skin to steal.

And Richard loved nothing more than the moment before the melt—when resistance was still there, but slipping.

Maggie had just invited herself to the game.

And Richard never lost.

Richard, still cloaked in Devon's skin, moved through Senator Eleanor Voss’s world like a shadow that knew all her secrets. Her schedule, her staff, the cadence of her breath when she was flustered—it was all falling into place. But seduction, real seduction, took time. Eleanor had to want it, even as she told herself it was wrong.

That’s why he let her linger. Let her burn slowly under his gaze. Every look between them carried heat. Every accidental brush of his hand against hers made her freeze with shame—and yet she never pulled away.

She was teetering.

But he needed more.

Maggie Harlow was Eleanor’s oldest friend and most loyal confidante. Blonde, sharp, and intensely protective of the Senator’s image, Maggie had been at Eleanor’s side since college. She was the one who managed the press when things got ugly, who whispered strategic reminders when Eleanor’s emotions threatened to take over. Maggie was also the one who had started asking questions.

About Devon.

Richard could see the shift. She was watching him. Testing his reactions. Bringing up Eleanor’s husband more often, even making offhanded remarks about boundaries. Maggie was clever, but clever wasn’t enough.

She had no idea the game had already begun.

---

Devon—Richard—started pulling away from Eleanor just enough to make her insecure. Their touches became rarer. Their private chats at the end of long workdays were cut short. Her texts went unanswered just long enough to stir doubt.

In her uncertainty, Eleanor turned to Maggie.

And Maggie came to him.

She confronted him in the hallway outside Eleanor’s home office, her arms folded, suspicion glinting behind her designer glasses.

"I don’t know what your game is," she said. "But if you hurt her, I will make sure you regret it."

Richard—Devon—just tilted his head, stepping closer until the distance between them was less than polite.

"She’s a grown woman," he murmured. "Maybe she’s tired of playing pretend."

Maggie flushed but didn’t back down.

That night, he did his research. Devon’s security clearance gave him access to enough social data to draw a profile. Maggie’s husband had left her five years ago. She hadn’t dated since. Conservative, closeted, maybe even to herself. But she wasn’t dead inside. No, there were things buried deep.

Richard was patient.

He waited until the weekend fundraiser—an upscale evening gala where Maggie, dazzling in black velvet, had a bit too much to drink. She and Eleanor had shared a bottle of wine beforehand, giggling like old friends. Eleanor had gone to mingle. Maggie had stayed behind.

He approached her quietly in the Senator’s study, locking the door behind him. Maggie turned, surprised—and then irritated.

"What do you want?"

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer. Took the glass from her hand and set it down. His fingers brushed hers. Slowly.

"You want control," he said softly. "But you crave being overpowered more."

Her breath caught.

She didn’t deny it.

He didn’t touch her. Not yet. Just leaned in, his voice dark silk.

"You’ve spent years guarding Eleanor. Protecting her. But who’s been protecting you, Maggie?"

She swallowed hard, color rising to her cheeks.

"You're dangerous."

"Only to the lies we tell ourselves."

And then he left, leaving her flustered, angry—and very, very wet.

---

In the days that followed, Maggie tried to ignore him. But he noticed the way she lingered when he entered a room. The way her eyes dipped, then snapped back up, flustered. He sent her one message: Tonight. My room. No questions.

At midnight, she knocked.

And opened herself to him.

The seduction was a slow burn, slow passionate kisses, turned fiery tounge dancing, dominance without cruelty, turned unbridled sex with her face in pillows, body thrown around like a free use **** , control threaded through every kiss, every whispered word. Richard—still Devon in skin—read her body like a sacred text. He made her beg without using words. Made her forget. Made her his.

He didn’t take her memories. Not yet. He loved playing with all of his victims equally. Slowly replacing every single person you love. To watch them spiral down into humanities lust, greed, taboo, and desires.

But the door was open. Completely with Maggie, an he could take her any day.

And Eleanor, already adrift in her own confusion, would soon find herself pulled deeper into the spiral.

Richard smiled in the dark.

Two women. One secret.

And the game was far from over.

Maggie's mimic is withing reach.

Maggie always came over late. She got the biggest thrill of being with her best friends security guard. The hulking tower, of a man. None the wise of his master plan.

This night, Like many Everyone was gone for an event on the other side of the country and She liked slipping in through the side garage, past the front security camera, pretending she was the trusted confidante of Senator Eleanor Voss.. She liked how Devon touched her without pretense. Rough hands on the most delicate of places, soft mouth forceful on her lips, no lies about what they were. Not lovers. Not partners. Just an outlet. Just the way Devon - Richard - planned.

Tonight was different.

He opened the door to his room shirtless, an apron tied lazily around his waist. He looked good—he always did—she bit her lip with anticipation. but there was a tension behind his eyes. Hunger, but something more. Calculation. All she saw was lust.

“You’re early,” he said, smiling. Running a hand up and down the nap of her back.

“You texted me ‘wear nothing’,” Maggie said, slipping past him. “So I did.” the trench coat she had on fell to the floor. Devon sliding to the counter, picking up a collar, gliding over to her and firmly but soft enough wrapped his hands around her neck, forcing her on her toes as she looked up at him, mouths barley touching. "put this on." without looking away, put the collar in her left hand as he squeeze her neck just enough to get a sigh from. Pulled up, and kisses her with hunger. The hunger to consume everything about her, to be her, just for her to be a pawn in your plan to become Eleanor Voss.. But she doesn't need to know that. "ohf mhm mmmm." she gets out before the aggressive kiss could continue.

She puts on the collar looks up at him with innocent wondering eyes. "What would you like me to do now daddy? " the real Devon would have been just as excited if he were here. Richard, glaring with hunger, raging 10 inch monster of a cock.

He grinned, eyes raking over her. “Then dinner can wait.”

Pulling the chained leash of the collar towards the bed.

---

They fucked like they always did—fast at first hair pulling, carnal desires, then slower. Like old sinners saying one final prayer grinding bodies, on the bed, in the shower, hours of sex to make a prostitute think twice, you think Maggie would. Considering she's fucking her best friends security guard. In her home, in every room without a camera in it.. Maggie moaned his name, and he watched her face as he took her, memorizing it. Every twitch, every shift of breath. She had no idea.

Afterward, sweat-slick and flushed, she lay against his chest.

“You think she knows?” Maggie whispered.

“Eleanor?” Devon murmured.

“She’s not stupid. I’ve been distant.”

He brushed her hair back. “Maybe she just trusts you.”

Maggie laughed, bitter and quiet. “Then she’s more naive than I thought.”

---

Later, after sex, wine, and, sex and, silence and, one more round of passionate sex, Maggie stood by the mirror, wrapped in his sheet.

“Do you ever feel like you’re... someone else?” Devon asked behind her.

She frowned. “What?”

“Like who you are now isn’t who you’re meant to be. Like you’re waiting for the real you to finally take over.”

She didn’t respond right away. But he saw it in her reflection—recognition. Doubt. Longing.

“Lie down,” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

“Just do it, Maggie. I promise—what happens next... is going to make sense of everything.”

She obeyed. And Richard began the transformation with a touch 9n her shoulder.

The sex wasn’t the trigger, never was as he slowly penetrated her, feeling the mimickry starting to set—it was the intimacy afterward that opened her. The vulnerability. The trust.

He whispered low in devons voice, "you're all mine, everything about you is mine." She shivered as the words slid beneath her skin. Her moans became gasps. Then cries. Something was happening to her, a sense of dread, but pure extacy. She was curious where this would go. Moaning devons name." oh yes, of fuck me harder Devon, fuck me harder daddy!!!"

And he began to see her. Her life, memories started to flow, their skin started to steam, so entrawled with the elevating sex. Maggie never noticed the steam. Or her sweat Turing to goop, or how Devons bold hulking form was starting to become more feminine, and lighter skinned. It wasn't until it was to late, until Maggie's face of euphoria turned to erotic horror. Devon bones started to crack, break and bend in ways no human should, she tried to reach for something with her left hand to see it on the bed melted away. As she got a better view of the horror. She noticed his skin starting to get lighter... And lighter... His face.. Popped in places in shouldn't, morphing, his hair, started to lossen and grow it kind of.. Looked like hers.... She wanted to scream, but the pleasure was to much, she wanted to take it all back, but she wanted more...

... It was twelve years ago. Maggie, fresh from a failed marriage and drowning in evangelical guilt, had arrived at a emulated conservative policy summit for their collage in D.C., Eleanor had been the keynote speaker—sharp, magnetic, everything Maggie hated in women. and noticed everything she was changing into.. And she couldn’t stop watching.

They were introduced in a hallway between . Eleanor’s handshake lingered too long. Her eyes dipped just once. It was all it took.

Later that night, in a hotel room paid for by donors, Maggie had kissed Eleanor for the first time. It was the first and last time Maggie saw Eleanor do anything outside of her conservative self. Well, except Devon that is. They never talked about it afterward. But it had changed everything- Maggie's first meeting with Eleanor - Richard thought - still trusting with zero remorse, stealing everything from Maggie, as she slowly, melts away from the world...

--

.. Maggie had always felt like a shadow next to Eleanor. Less intelligent. Less controlled. But more alive. She admired Eleanor’s restraint—and envied it.

She once told Eleanor, tearfully and drunk, “I’d let you use me, if you just told me it was God’s will.”

Eleanor never responded. But she never forgot either. Eleanor just couldn't bring herself to change her conservative ways back then, but with Richard now in the driver's seat. He could use that to his advantage.

---

As the final tendrils of the transformation coiled around them, Richard broke through.

He became Maggie.

His skin mold finalized. His voice reshaped perfectly to Maggie's *cough*, "testing, testing, one two. I fucked Devon before you?! Hahaha" he laughed in her voice. Her scent filled his lungs from the inside. Smelling in the air with Maggie's lungs and nose. But what mattered more was the knowledge—the deep, aching desire Maggie held for Eleanor. A desire twisted by guilt, repressed by faith, and ignited by proximity. Explaining why she was so resentful towards Devon. She was jealous. But couldn't fight her basic need to mate. Deep down, once she got a literal piece of Devons meat. She couldn't go back. She was hooked. But Richard knew better. He could use this desire for Eleanor. for himself.

She wanted Eleanor. Feared her. Worshipped her.

And now Richard in Maggie's gloopy slimy form could do so much with that knowledge.

---

When the transformation ended, Maggie’s real body was a mushey slimy mess echo of its former self.

Richard—now wearing her face, her voice, her memories—smiled as he walked to the mirror.

“Eleanor,” he whispered in Maggie’s voice, “you always needed someone to save you. That’s what I’m here for.”

Smiling to the mirror while doing a perfect impression of Eleanors best friend. With the knowledge he now posseses. He can continue his corruption of Eleanor Voss.

Location: Maggie’s House – Two Days After the Mimic

The house smelled like old perfume and pine disinfectant — Maggie’s scent clung to everything, even though she no longer lived here.

Two days had passed since Richard had boiled her body down to a gloopy mess of human remains. and adopted her body like a tailored suit. He’d done it in Eleanor’s home, quiet and brutal, while the senator and family were away across the country.

Now, back in Maggie’s quaint, picture-perfect colonial, Richard stood naked in her upstairs bathroom — a place she once wept in after nights of guilt, confusion of who she was as a person. Fighting her love for Eleanor. and her conservative way.

Just like before, closes his eyes, concents on the thought of Devon. The whole world starts to shake, and his atoms vibrate to the core...

.. And now, the hollow of Devon was growing from energy he stored from mimicking Maggie.

It pulsed as it took shape, a tall silhouette of damp muscle and mimic matter stretching into form. Shoulders broadened. Fingers curled. The face locked into place like a mask finishing its descent.

Richard—Maggie now—stepped back to admire it.

“You’re not him,” she whispered. “But you’ll do.”

She circled it slowly, examining the copied veins, the tension in the stance, the slight tilt of the head.

“Eleanor’s losing herself to you. But she’s still resisting the part that wants to kneel.”

The hollow blinked.

“You’ll fix that. Push her further. Take her deeper. Make her crave submission—and hate herself for needing it.”

Maggie’s voice dropped, silk over a blade.

“No flowers. No pity. Only power.”

She stepped close, lips brushing the mimic’s lips before diving her tounge into his waiting mouth.

“And when she breaks, you don’t comfort her. You command her.”

She said as she release his face, and reaching down to bring his snake back to life.

The hollow of Devon nodded. And made a face that pleased you. "but before that, I'm fucking horny for you, now. Pick me up, and take me on the bathroom counter." hollow Devon only smiled, dick waving in the air and he picks you up, and slams your ass on the counter top with aggressive ****. "mfh hehehehe keep going big guy, I'm all yours." "yes mistress." he responded, running his hands aggressively over her stolen body. Grabbing at her tits as he positions himself for entry. He grabs the back of your neck, now forehead to forehead. He knows exactly what to do, with the fastest piston motion he can, into the wet, slick ready canal of Maggie. She screams in pleasure, as he starts to fuck her with reckless abandon. No love, no passion, just raw fucking. And Maggie is all here for it. Devons hip movements start to become speratic. Bucking, randomly, ass cheeks clinching. Trying to hold his hot, molten baby batter in his balls that much longer. Just as he is about to finish, Maggie reaches around as fast a she could and jams two fingers. Straight up devons ass, "come for me daddy!" Maggie screams into his ear. And come for his mistress he did. "oooh oohh oh fuck! Oh god.. Now I really know what this fucking cock can do! Holy shit. I also know why he always wears condoms. This shits over flowing, mmhm.. I love this feeling of cum in a pussy.. Mmmm."

Richard smiled, living in the afterglow his new body produced. touching her own cheek with Maggie’s fingers.

“Now go. You’ve got a senator to ruin.” she says as they both smile with devilish intent. "and I have a daughter to corrupt, fuck, and take over." before hollow Devon left they caught themselves. falling back into another fuck session from the devils own play book. They're like that all night. He left the next morning.

Across town, Eleanor is getting ready for bed. Fantasizing about Devon. Wishing she could be taken by him, missing his voice. Wanting his words to envelope her with euphoria.

"you like that don't you bitch, getting fucked by your best friends security guard. The man she craves, and you're fucking him. Right under her nose, how does that feel you fucking man stealing bitch." hollow Devon spits at Maggie... "I fucking love it daddy, I love being bred by my best friends crush. I love the fact that I have something over that stuck up prude of a bitch. Ooohhhmfhh God, yes daddy! Pound my man stealing pussy raw, make it red from your cock!!" Maggie screams and squeels from devons holly shaft. As he shoots one last load into her, he falls next her as they fall asleep... Eleanor finally resting her head on her pillow, falls asleep. Dreaming of seeing Devon again....

Two Days After Richard Mimicked Maggie in Secret

No one noticed anything had changed.

Maggie still attended her morning pilates. She still texted Eleanor motivational quotes and mid-week gossip. She still posted brunch photos with filters that softened her smile.

But inside, she wasn’t Maggie anymore.

She was Richard.

He’d taken her body in Eleanor’s guest bathroom, mimicked her in the space of gasps and moans. Now, two days later, he was planting the next seed: Eleanor’s sexy daughter.

They met at a cozy coffeehouse just off the Hill — the same one they’d visited months ago, back when Maggie had offered Eleanor’s daughter “mentor talks” and career advice.

Savannah didn’t hesitate to hug her this time. Full of love kissing each others cheeks in greeting.

“I’ve missed this,” she said.

Richard, wearing Maggie’s warmth like silk, nodded. “Me too. You look... grounded, radiant and more confident.”

“Mom’s been intense lately, constantly on my ass about getting out of the house and marry someone, so she can have grandkids.” savannah chuckles.

“Sounds like we need more of this. You and me. No judgment. Just girl time.”

She smiled, and Richard marked the moment. What savannah saw was a reassuring loving look, for Richard...

That was the first open door of many.

— Eleanor's Office, Behind Closed Doors

The senator sat with perfect posture as Devon approached from behind. His hand wrapped around her throat like it belonged there.

“You wore the necklace I gave you,” he whispered.

“I told you I’d be wear it, you've given me something very thoughtful.” she reaches up to caress her necklace, ever so slightly grazing his fingers.

Hollow Devon could only smile his hand squeezing her neck and taking his first kiss. His other hand lowering to her breast and pinching her left nipple. Generating a genuine moan from Eleanor. This was the first conquest of many, as he tightens his hollow leash on Eleanor.

At brunch the next day with savannah, Maggie stirred her mimosa and said casually, “You ever think about running away?”

Savannah blinked. “Like, permanently?”

“No. Just for a few days. Something unfiltered. Just us. I know this beach house — no staffers, no press, no parents.”

“You’re serious?”

Maggie leaned in. “I already blocked out the time and booked it, you technically don't have a choice in the matter.”

Savannah hesitated. “What about Mom?”

“Let her have her alone time, besides I'll tell her it's just gonna be us girls, she's got enough on her plate as it is.”

She laughed. “You’re awful.”

“But you’re in? Right?” Maggie smiles the same one you'd give a best friend while nudging their shoulder, or bending their arm so to speak.

Savannah, without giving more thought clinked her glass to Maggie’s. “I’m in.”

Maggie smiles the biggest while chugging the rest of her mimosa.

— Eleanor at the Gala

She leaned over the balcony railing, breath quickened, her lipstick slightly smeared from to much wine. Devon adjusted his cufflinks beside her, expression unreadable.

She whispered, “That was reckless.”

Devon didn’t even glance at her.

"I wanted to kiss you agian.. So I did."

Richard, still in Maggie’s form, sat at her vanity, brushing out her hair slowly. He stared into her mirror, watching her reflection… his reflection… imaging her doing the most taboo things to her best friends daughter.

Savannah was on the hook.

The vacation would seal it.

And Eleanor?

Her daughter was slipping from her fingertips, while she surrendered herself to the man she didn’t realize wasn’t real.

Soon, her entire family would be his plaything. Maggie smiled once more humming a popular song she heard on the radio the other day, damn thing keeps getting stuck in her head...

The sun dipped behind the mountains as the car wound its way up the coastal road. Maggie, hands light on the steering wheel, smiled sideways at Savannah, who was humming along to a forgotten 90s pop song on the radio, hair pinned up and cheeks flushed with excitement.

Their rented Airbnb perched like a secret over the cliffs — modern, secluded, and miles from anyone who might recognize them. Just how Richard had planned it.

Maggie played her part effortlessly — light-hearted, supportive, funny in just the right ways. Savannah adored her. Not in an obvious way, not yet. But in the quiet glances when she thought Maggie wasn’t looking. The subtle way her laughter lingered longer than it should. The long hugs, the hesitation in letting go.

The timing had been too perfect. Eleanor was pulled into a gala event in D.C. she could not cancel. Maggie had been the one to encourage her to attend, even helping her pick the dress before whispering, “You deserve this. Let yourself be admired for once.”

That left Savannah... alone. ****. Just where Richard wanted her.

The wine flowed in waves.

By midnight, the fireplace was lit and Savannah was curled up beside Maggie on the plush throw rug, a half-empty bottle of merlot between them. The city lights shimmered like stars below the cliff.

“I never do stuff like this,” Savannah admitted, her voice slurred but soft, ****. “You know. Go away. Be spontaneous.”

Maggie smiled. “Maybe you should. You’re kind of amazing when you let go.”

Savannah laughed, hiding her face behind her glass. Then, silence. Heavy. Hesitant.

“I have to tell you something,” she said suddenly. “But you can’t tell my mom. You can’t.”

Maggie leaned closer, eyes serious. “Of course not.”

Savannah drew in a breath, held it, then let it go all in a rush. “I’m gay. I’ve known for a while, but I just… My mom, the senator, the family name. The bullshit we stand for. I just—I can’t be that daughter. I can't be me.”

Maggie didn’t flinch. Just pulled her in and held her.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered.

The hug lingered.

Savannah’s breath on her neck.

But Richard didn’t push. Not yet.

He slowly pulls her back. With Maggie's face, she looks comforting, inviting. She slowly leans in, eyes on lips, then eyes on eyes waiting for an okay. Savannah, starts to lean in and doesn't stop. They're lips met. Softly at first. Like a question. Never spoken, but agree. Slowly the kiss begins to build. Maggie leans further in, deepening the kiss, to that of a passionate one. She finally build the fake courage to slip Maggie's tounge into her next hosts lips. Breaking the barrier she effortlessly broke down. But she didn't act any further. She pulled away, making Maggie seem sympathetic, and worried she overstepped her place. "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. I never should have.. You're my best friends daughter... I.." she was cut off by savannahs finger on her lips, stopping her from continuing. She spoke softly. "it.. It's okay I... It was nice.. Nice to finally be myself.. But.. It's still a lot to process.." Maggie pulled her into her chest.. "I understand sweetly.. I'm confused too.. I think the booze made us into girls gone wild. Haha" they both shared an intimate laugh. Maggie pushed savannah up and even gave her a motivational butt smack and a giggle to go and get ready for bed. By the time savannah was done, Maggie was already asleep on the couch. Meaning she'd be alone on the bed. She sighed and slugged her way under the covers before being enveloped by sleep.

The coastal clifside retreat smelled of salt and sunscreen, lavender candles, and chilled rosé. It was late afternoon, and Savannah padded barefoot across the hardwood floor, her cheeks still flushed from laughter and too many midday cocktails. Maggie sat on the couch in a pale silk robe, legs tucked beneath her, sipping wine and watching.

“You’ve got that look again,” Savannah teased, dropping beside her.

“What look?” Maggie asked, smiling over her glass.

“Like you’re trying to read my thoughts.”

“I’m not. I already know them.”

“Oh really?”

Maggie leaned in. “You’re wondering what would happen if you stopped pretending.”

Savannah froze. Her laugh died in her throat.

“You don’t have to be scared, Savannah,” Maggie whispered. “Not with me.”

The tension between them had simmered since the night before — that wine-drenched confession beneath moonlight: I think I’m into women. I just… never told anyone. Not even Mom.

Now it boiled over.

Savannah reached forward, trembling fingers grazing Maggie’s jaw. Maggie turned into the touch and kissed her — tenderly, deeply, like a promise being sealed.

Savannah whimpered.

Later That Night

The world had narrowed to breath and heat. Sheets twisted around bare legs. Savannah writhed beneath Maggie, every touch pulling her deeper into the spiral of sensation and surrender.

Fingertips slid down her ribs groping her breasts, twisting her young nipples.. Tongue traced her inner thigh, one digit sliding in, then two digits slide in. Maggie kissed her like worship — slow, thorough, and reverent — until Savannah’s hips lifted off the bed, her body pleading for more. Then there passion enveloped everything.

“Please,” she gasped.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Maggie murmured. “So open. So real. Say please agian baby girl." Maggie demanded, he voice getting more corse.

Savannah arched her back as Maggie finger fucked the shit out of her pussy, gasping Maggie’s name as she shattered for the first time. Maggie wasnt done with her new young toy, she knew she could last for hours. She sashays over to her dresser. And pulls out a strap on she just bought for this trip. Savannah, eyes wide. Started to question what was going on, "it's okay dear." getting into the harness like a pair of shorts. "I know you've been with guys before. So I want to make it as close to that as possible. While showing you. Us ladies, know how to take care of each other." as she fastens the last strap with a vicious sound.

"please go easy on me aunt Maggie." Maggie's pussy twitched at that comment. Under Richard's management, the taboo of the situation has made Maggie's body go into overdrive. "oh sweetie, I intend to give you so much pleasure you'll feel like a whole new person." she smile a wicked grin, leaning forward, kissing her new victim to start the process. Savannah, surprised by the kiss is now flooded with the most primal of desires. **** fumbling starts, she instinctively rubs her pussy to make sure it wet. Only to find it drenched. She then grabs the dildo, and starts to lube it with her own juices while gyrating her hips off the bed at the same time. Becoming the sexual puppet Richard desires. No longer needing to hide his innocence, he sheds that look like a mask. Now the new Maggie looks like a whole new person. Ravenous, feral, dominating, and worst of all.. Horrifying. Savannah so badly wants to run way, her first instinct.. But she can't.. Somehow she wants to stay.. She's getting hot. Too hot, Maggie's perfect image starts to fade. Her skin starts to steam and bubble. Savannah should be worried but she's not. She's intrigued. Maggie's form begins to bubble, her bones start to crack, shift, she's becoming more petite. Younger even.. Her face.. Starts to resemble her own.. Still holding that evil look. The look like she can't escape. The last thing she remembers coherently is the best climax of her life.. She wants more.. Need, needs. More...

And then again... And agian..

Richard was taking his time with this one.. He needed a break from the Eleanor life corruption, and purely wanted to enjoy becoming savannah. As he fucked her in different positions as Maggie, then Slowly turn into a selfcest fuck. Two savannahs. One melting away forever. The other gaining life, and fucking herself with renewed youthful vigor. Tattoos began to form, where they weren't before. Her vision becoming less blurry and sharper. Voice became higher softer except she was yelling." take this you fucking bitch, mm, you just love to be fucked by yourself." the real savannah couldn't say words..her body was turning to mush.. Richard was holding on as best he could.. Until he arched his back in savannah body, and climaxed a new. Still holding on, not yet done with the transformation. He wanted to save that for himself.. Getting up from the bed, sweating and dripping goop. -Savannah lay sprawled across the bed body beginning to break down, skin slick and glowing, limbs limp, skin bubbling, her mind floating in a fog of release. She blinked slowly, drunk on intimacy and exhaustion. The last of her natural thoughts... Drifting into nothing... Literally

The new savannah, moved gently now. Quiet. Purposeful. Her body still new born from the transformation... Still waiting for one last thing. Richard loved taking his time becoming someone new. Richard relished in this part.

Now, he needed just one more thing: Savannahs life. All he had to do, once aquireing a new form. All he has to do is masterbate to get his targets memories, and mannerisms. He didn't have to, he could have taken everything she was when he was fucking her as Maggie or savannah. So he can perfectly mimic them. He just wanted to switch it up this time. Since he only had two more targets before the main dish. Before anything.. dispose of old savannah.

Miles Away

Senator Eleanor Voss stood before a golden podium, delivering the keynote at a prestigious charity gala. Her face was luminous under the lights, her voice crisp with conviction.

“…and in times like these, we must remember: faith, family, and foundation. That is the American promise.”

Applause rose around her.

She had no idea her daughter — her only daughter — was already taken by Richard. In the form of her best friend. Eleanor stood under the spotlight of a crowded ballroom, feeling hollow despite the applause. Hollow Devon had shown up just before she left — jaw set, voice low, pressing her against her office wall fingering her for the first time... and whispering promises of what he’d do when she got done with the gala, her reward of a raw dominated pussy. Just for the special senator.

She hadn’t been able to concentrate since. With Devon learning over her shoulder.

Savannah’s was gone.

Now, she stood again — fresh and whole — in front of the mirror. But it wasn’t Savannah anymore.

It was Richard, in her form.

Naked kneading her breasts, rubbing her new pussy, hair still shinning from the gloopy mess. and dripping onto her collarbones, she looked like the young woman she had once been: soft curves, tanned skin, that same nervous tension in her jaw — the one that came from years of hiding, of lying to herself and to Eleanor.

Richard wanted to it all. Her confusion. Her secrets. Her loneliness. Her twisted, **** cravings to be seen.

He stepped into of the shower.

The water ran hot — steam rising, fogging the mirror. Savannah’s body pulsed with raw memory. But it wasn’t complete yet. Not until he finished the final act: the acceptance.

Richard’s hand slid between her legs. He touched slowly, exploring, learning her rhythms as if they've always been hers. Her body responded immediately — as if it had been waiting to be understood.

Flashes tore through his mind.

Savannah, sixteen, hiding in her room with her headphones blasting, fantasizing about her female best friend. An O face now slapped across new savannahs face.

Savannah, nineteen, crying in the back of her car after a date with a boy who tried too hard — who didn’t make her feel anything. Fingers pounding away at her pussy, the other hand relentlessly kneading her beast and pinching nipples. Building to his inevitable climax in his new body.

Savannah, twenty-one, staring at Maggie across the coffee shop table, heart pounding, cheeks burning, wanting. The arousal is to much, she grabs a bottle from the shower, just big enough he thinks, "ooohh fuuuck." his orgasm building in his new body, knees beginning to buckle. He slides down the side of the shower. With the water falling right on his bean. "mmmm fuck!"

Water streamed over Richard’s new body as she groaned aggressively, climaxing against the tile wall, and with that — the transformation was done.

The memories settled into place like bricks in a wall.

Savannah Voss was no more.

Later That Day

She stood in the Airbnb’s sunlit kitchen, wrapping a towel around her borrowed body, sipping from a mug labeled Beach, Please.

Across the counter, Maggie stood — blank-faced, hollow-eyed. The skin was flawless, but the spark was gone. A perfect shell.

Richard, now Savannah, walked over to her.

“tomorrow,” she said coldly. “you’re going to visit Eleanor. Tell her we had a wonderful, exciting weekend. Make her jealous. Curious.”

Hollow Maggie nodded slowly.

“More importantly,” Richard continued, “let her talk. Let her confess. She’s going to tell you about Devon. Don’t act surprised. Act excited. Supportive. Be the friend she never knew she needed.”

Another nod.

“And when she breaks,” Savannah said, a wicked smile curling across her lips, “make sure she thinks it was her idea to keep seeing him.”

---

Eleanor was pacing her private garden, phone in hand, tense and tired from the gala the night before. She looked up as Maggie approached with a bottle of white wine.

“God, you’re a sight,” Eleanor said, her guard softening.

They poured glasses, settled into the patio chairs under dim string lights, and chatted about nothing for a while — until Maggie leaned in, smiling.

“It was... an amazing weekend,” she said. “Savannah opened up more than I’ve ever seen. She’s not a little girl anymore, Eleanor. She’s so mature now. Confident. You raised her well.”

Eleanor blinked. “I... thank you.”

Maggie tilted her head. “You look distracted.”

There was silence.

Then — softly, as if scared to even speak the words — Eleanor said, “There’s… something going on. With Devon.”

Maggie leaned in, feigning shock that turned into warm support. “Tell me everything.”

Eleanor did.

The dinners. The touches. The tension.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Eleanor whispered, “but I don’t feel judged around him. He sees me. Not the senator. Not the crusader. Just… me. And it terrifies me.”

Maggie reached out, gripping her hand.

“Then chase that, Eleanor. You deserve something real. You’ve spent your life upholding an image. Maybe it’s time you let yourself feel again.”

Eleanor looked at her like she’d never seen her before. ****. Changed.

“Thank you, Maggie.”

Richard, in Savannah’s body, watched from afar — sipping wine on the balcony above.

The next part was almost too easy.

Two Weeks Later

Eleanor Voss was no longer holding back.

The affair had crossed a line — one no prayer or sermon could unmake. Devon’s touch had become a ****. One she couldn’t quit, even as guilt gnawed at the edges of her identity.

He had taken her against her desk once, late at night in the Capitol having to gag her mouth with her panties, as to not make to much noise. Another time in the back seat of the black SUV fully dressed with her panties to the side, while her driver waited outside, oblivious.

He was everything her husband was not.

Warm. Firm. Silent where it mattered and dominant when she craved it.

And only one person knew: Maggie.

The Friend and the Liar

“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” Eleanor confessed one evening over bourbon at Maggie’s kitchen island.

Maggie offered her a tissue and an understanding smile, reaching across the marble to grip her hand like a lifeline.

“Then lose it with someone who makes you feel alive,” she whispered. “We both know your husband hasn't looked at you the way Devon does in years.”

Eleanor sniffed. “You won’t tell him?”

“Never,” Maggie said. “You’re my best friend. You’ve given everything to this country — maybe it’s time someone gave something to you.”

Richard, watching through Maggie’s hollow eyes, grinned beneath her skin. Eleanor’s corruption was no longer a matter of if, but how far.

---

Savannah’s brother had always been a mystery to the press — handsome, successful, but reclusive. Benjamin Voss, the oldest child of Eleanor, had the sharp jaw of a Kennedy and the soft eyes of someone always two seconds from bolting.

Richard — now in Savannah’s lithe, playful frame — had begun her slow campaign the moment they returned from vacation.

A brunch here. A drink there. Lingering glances. Close hugs. Knowing smirks.

He could see it in him.

Benjamin was aching.

Years of polished, closeted silence. Of high expectations. Of Eleanor’s impossible moral ceiling. And now, all it would take was a man strong enough to drag him into the light.

That’s where Devon came in. Again. And some **** fun once the mimic started. She smiled, Eleanor took it as her sweet daughter finding a way to connect with her distant older brother.

---

“Ben’s been different,” Eleanor said offhandedly during a family dinner. “He’s been hanging out with Devon lately — can’t imagine what they even talk about.”

Savannah laughed lightly, swirling her wine. “Maybe he’s just tired of people pretending to know who he is.”

Eleanor arched a brow. “You think Ben’s hiding something?”

“I think Ben’s been hiding everything,” Savannah said quietly. “He deserves to be free, too.”

---

Later that week, Devon invited Benjamin over to the training compound agian — under the pretense of self-defense training.

The mats were cold. The tension wasn’t.

“Loosen your shoulders,” Devon said, standing behind him. His voice low, coaxing. “You’re too stiff.”

Benjamin exhaled nervously. Trying to hide his blush and hard on, especially with is little sister looking on.

Savannah just smile, just enough. So Ben can't see the lust building. Savannah had seen her brother once, you know. Shower towel slip. Ben was embarrassed to next Sunday. Savannah on the other hand. For the slightest second. Wondered why her bother was so fucking big. Of course Richard was expanding this idea, and her pussy was starting to leak.

“You always this wound up?” Devon winked to savannah.

“I—no, I—”

“Relax. Breathe.” Devon moved in close, his hands sliding down Benjamin’s arms, correcting form — lingering. Ben, looked right at savannah, what he didn't expect was for her to bit her lip.. Or did she? He glanced agian and she had mix of concern, and hope her brother can get out of this move. Then..

Their eyes met.

Benjamin didn’t pull away.

"what was that?!" savannah says with a flirty look to Devon and her brother. The cracks.. Are starting to really show. And Richard is going to take advantage.. Him and hollow Devon.

---

Meanwhile – Eleanor Slips Further

Eleanor lay on her side in her bedroom, the sheets tangled around her thighs.

“I want to tell him, Maggie. But if I do… I lose everything.” she says over the phone.

Hollow Maggie clears her throat. “Then don’t. Not yet. Wait until you’re ready. You’re still figuring out who you are.”

Eleanor turned her head and looked out her window... “You’re the only person who really sees me.”

A pause.

“I’m starting to think… that’s what Devon does too.” Eleanor is even more conflicted now. Hollow Maggie just smiles to herself. Sipping her strong beverage. Dildo making a sloppy mess of her pussy.

---

The gym was empty. Except the three of them.

Private. Quiet. The whirr of overhead fans mixed with the distant hum of fluorescent lights. Ben Voss stood at the cable machine, working in silence — shirt damp with sweat, jaw clenched, trying to ignore the presence behind him. His sister (Richard) and Devon undress him with every move her makes.

But hollow Devon watched him like a predator measuring the moment before the pounce. Glancing over at his master. To find she's got the same look.

“Your form’s better than last time,” Devon said.

Ben didn’t turn but blushed. His sister saw, “Thanks.”

“You’re training harder than ever. Pressure from your mom?”

Ben scoffed. “She doesn’t pressure me, she berates me.”

Devon stepped closer, voice lowering. “Then what is it you’re hiding behind all this effort?”

Ben paused, hands still gripping the handles. Looking at his sister with eyes of plea.

Devon circled around. Slow. Deliberate. To get into his line of sight.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “I already know.”

Ben’s throat bobbed. At this point savannah gets up from her seat and seductively walks behind her brother. Ben is now confused..

“Trust me,” Devon whispered, stepping in so close Ben could feel his breath on his cheek. “I see everything.” his sister touched his sweaty back with her hands. It jolted him awake, then she touched the back of his neck with her bare hand, it started and he got hot... Really hot..

Ben turned suddenly, face flushed. “You’re wrong.”, "he is?", savannah says, her mouth right next to her brothers ear.

“Am I?” Devon’s hand reached out, brushing the sweat-slicked edge of Ben’s jaw. “Then why haven’t you told your mother you’re gay?”

The words cracked like a whip. He broke in that moment, all he could think about was Devon. His sister disappeared.

Ben’s breath caught. Eyes darting. Muscles tensing.

“You don’t know me,” he snapped.

But his voice betrayed him. It wasn’t anger. It was fear. And longing.

Devon leaned in, lips brushing Ben’s lips. “I know what it’s like to live a lie. To bury who you are because of who your parents are. What they expect.”

Ben’s body quivered. His sister had reached around to his gym shorts, and was none the wise the mimic effect had taken place. Or that he was now in the venus fly trap. He was lost to his deepest of desires..

“I know what you want,” Devon said. “And I’m right here.” Devon kissed him, he kissed back.. Then.. Devon desolved right in front of him.. Shocked.. His eyes and mouth open wide in shock. The man who had just been training him.. Just turned into a pile of human flesh. His sister, with surprising speed.. Sits on his lap, just enough to where she can still grip his rock hard cock, grips it for the first time. Kisses him, and he looses himself to her.. To him..to the mimic..

---

They ended up in the locker room — steam rising from the showers, the scent of sweat and cedarwood thick in the air.

Savannah locked the door behind them. Legs wrapped around her brother's hips as there bodies clung together like monkey's in heat. "where the fuck is Devon.. And.. Why are we doing this?!" Ben says with a string of saliva bridges between him and his sister. "who fucking cares, this is insane, and I've never wanted anyone more. Come one you fucking homo, show your sister who's the real man." she says with the look of pure lust. She gets down. And leans against the wall.

Ben stood near the bench, unsure. Breath ragged.

Savannah peeled off her shirt, tight taut body glistening. Calm. Confident. Magnetic. The same way he would have been aroused by Devon. It was so confusing.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” she said, stepping backwards her ass jiggling with temptation. “Just say it.”

Ben’s lips trembled. “I want you.”

It was all Richard needed.

Ben Rushed forward. Grabbing the front of his sister's neck and leaning her face back. Their kiss was sudden, ****. Years of repression combusting in one fiery collision or so ben thought.. He was so confused. Skin met skin. Savannah guided Ben down into her from behind, hands mapping every part of her — coaxing every sound from her throat, every secret from her body. Ben needed to bread his sister. Fuck Devon.. Well he'd still fuck Devon. But all he could think about was his sisters, tight wet snatch.

When Ben climaxed, it wasn’t just release. It was surrender.

And that’s when Richard began the transformation completely. Ben heard a crack. The looked down, and saw Savannahs spine begin to break and reform into that of a more broader back. Her shoulders began to widen. Her skin started steaming past the shower. It started to bubble underneath. Weird gloops of skin were falling off of her.. And she.. Was growing? Getting taller? It was getting easier to fuck her. His legs started to straighten out. Then he noticed her hair.. It started to.. Recede back to her scalp.. Then she turned around.. What he saw.. He didn't expect. Her face had changed. But.. Into a mix of hers and his. Like her face was becoming more masculine.. She pushed him down on his back. He just complied. What he saw next he couldn't believe.

---

With Ben still breathless beneath him, Richard whispered, "welcome to the hollow my sweet gay brother." his voice weaving through the steam. Gliding Ben's cock into its asshole. Bouncing up and down his cock with vigor.

He pressed his mouth to Ben’s throat. Drank in the final spark of his identity.

Ben’s eyes fluttered. Body trembling.

And then silence.

Richard sat up. Breathing hard. His bones already snapping into place beneath his skin. His form folding into the new one. Muscles shifting to the final spot. Voice still cracking.

He rose to his feet.

Now Ben Voss stared back at himself in the gym mirror — skin fresh, glistening with sweat and newness.

The real Ben had already dissolved into glistening goop, cleaning him up like all those before. Still sweating.

He decided to let his sister and Devon finish the transformation.....

Hollow Devon and hollow savannah, are making out in Devons shower, she's jacking him off while he's groping her. Ben walks in to join the two in the shower. He tells Devon to kneel behind him and get his asshole ready for that massive python. Savannah already gets the hint, as water start cascading up her back and drenches her hair with water, as she gives her the best head she knows how. It's started... He can feel beens memories begin to flood his mind. He closed his eyes and let it begin.

Flash: A bright bedroom, what seemed like an earthquake..

A woman screams, her face unfamiliar, then known. His mother's voice—then none at all.

Flash: A man’s belt. A locked door.

Shame soaked into flesh like oil into cloth.

Flash: his first crush

A boy. Barely older than him. Trusting.

The memory stung with pleasure and grief.

Flash: Ben’s heartbeat.

Fast, loyal, hiding a secret that never made it to his lips.

Richard’s breath hitched.

The heat beneath his skin wasn’t arousal—it was consumption. The transformation was devouring what remained of Ben and imprinting his truth into Richard’s mind.

He felt every handshake Ben had given.

Every lie he’d told to protect.

He can see at sixteen he found gay porn online. An couldn't stop jacking off for weeks.. Devon stands up, and rubs his cockhead up and down Ben's asshole. You moan as your sister continues to essentially suck your dick off.. Then you feel it.. Devons massive cock, entering Ben's gay ass.. It's like being fucked in the pussy you think. "God yes! Fuck this twink daddy, convert me to a bbc loving gayboy! Fuuuck sis, stand up, lean against the wall. I wanna finish this transformation cumming inside you." with a pop and saliva bridge she gets up, turns around, "oohhfucck!" she crys from her brother smaking her ass and getting his cock in position just at the entrance of the forbidden taboo. You shove Ben's bulging cockhead into your sisters tight wanting snatch. All three of you sigh that of pleasure in the moment of penetration. All three wait.. And as Ben you start the motion. Slow pistons into your sisters tight pussy. "fuck yes brother, fuck my cunt with that gayboy cock. Ooh shit." gritting her teeth to the pleasure. Devon joins the chat but becoming the dominant **** he is. Both savannah and Ben not ready for the onslaught. Memories are poring in, mannerisms are becoming natural. As Ben's final memory comes into vew. You climax into your sisters sweet pussy, while being filled to the brim yourself. Two more pawns remain..

---

Richard — in Ben’s beautiful, shame-filled skin — studied himself in the mirror. His voice, his gait, his haunted eyes. His sister and Devon getting ready next to him.

Ben had been hiding his desires for years. Now those desires were Richard’s to exploit. Except.. He's got more of a taboo arc in mind now that he's running the show.

He smiled.

Then spoke in Ben’s voice, soft and smooth, Devon and savannah kissing either cheek.

“Mom will never see it cuming.”

Friday evening.

Eleanor’s speech had just gone live. She was on stage — glowing with righteous purpose, her voice sharp and righteous as she spoke of tradition, family, and fidelity.

But back at home, her husband was already in a suit jacket and slacks, collar loose, tie forgotten. A glass of whiskey in hand.

Maggie and a little **** surprise was waiting.

---

Eleanor’s House, Study Room

“Maggie?” he asked, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

Richard smiled warmly, that familiar crooked grin that always reminded him of college nights and casual sins. “You said I could stop by anytime, it's your wife's big night after all.”

He chuckled. “Sure. It’s just—Eleanor’s not home.”

Maggie’s heels clicked slowly across the hardwood as she approached. “I know. That’s why I came.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply. Just closed the door gently behind her, letting the sound echo.

“You’ve been alone a lot lately,” she said. “Must be hard.”

He laughed, but it was hollow. “Not as hard as Eleanor’s schedule.”

“She doesn’t see you anymore, does she?”

He looked away.

That was enough.

Maggie stepped into his space. “She doesn’t touch you either. I can tell.”

He exhaled. Slow. Tight.

Maggie slid a hand up his chest, resting it on his shoulder. “But I could.”

He stiffened. “This isn’t right…”

She pressed her lips to his cheek. “Was it right the last time you cheated?”

He froze.

“And the time before that?” she whispered, letting her words brush the shell of his ear. “How many times did you promise it’d be the last?”

He said nothing.

And Maggie — Richard — took that silence for consent. He lunged forward. Smacking Maggie's lips to his.

Their kiss wasn’t tender. It was a slow unraveling of secrets and shame, the way guilt becomes heat, and heat becomes justification. Her hand slipped beneath his waistband. His resistance crumbled like sand.

The couch took their weight.

Clothes were undone, not removed.

And just like that, Eleanor’s husband betrayed her again — but this time, to someone who wasn’t even real. Just then.. Her husband heard a sound that should have shattered his heart. A door slamming shut.. "dad! Aunt Maggie!? What the fuck are you doing!?" savannah walked in, a smile laced her face as she crossed the room. Greg, never paused as the mimic effect was already ruling his thoughts. Then..maggie vanished.. Gone.. In her place.. His gorgeous daughter. Pure, just like the day she turned 18.. But something primal was boiling in his mind.. He needed to take her.. Make her his.. "daddy? You okay?" agian, the smile continues and his lust boils over. He grabs his daughter, rips her skirt and panties. And rapes his little girl. "oh daddy! I.. Never knew... You wanted me so badly?! Oh.. Oh.. Oh my god, so big.. So strong." "shut the fuck up you ungrateful little bitch. You're a brat, always getting tattoos sneaking off after church. Doing God knows what." Richard loving the fact that savannahs father is berating her, while completely losing himself to the mimic. And **** the fuck out of her.

The transformation begins. His daughter's skin starts to burn at his touch, steam, sweat.. Boiling.. Bubbling.. She begins to change.. The hole he was fucking.. It felt like it shifted from where it was... He no longer fucking his daughter.. He's fucking himself. "to bad you won't be alive to see your wife get taken over by me and your family. Actually, you will. Just not you. I'll be you, and your daughter, and your son, and your wife. I'll take everything from all of you. And make it mine.." one last shove, and his new asshole, squeezes out the last drob of come, cleaning up the last of the old Greg.

---

He knew everything now: his habits, his passwords, his fears. The guilt he carried for betraying Eleanor again. The history Richard needed.

This one would be easy.

All it would take is one more encounter — and she'd be gone.

---

Meanwhile, at the gala...

Eleanor stood behind the podium. The crowd applauded.

She didn’t know it yet, but she was the last piece on the board.

Surrounded by mimics.

Lovers.

Friends.

Family.

All hollow.

All his.

The month passed like silk across Eleanor’s skin—smooth, effortless, unreal.

She was finally being seen.

Devon, that quiet pillar of masculine restraint, had become her hidden joy. Her confidant. Her late-night sin. They met in shadows: in service corridors of hotels after speaking engagements, in the tinted glass of his black SUV parked discreetly behind churches, and once—her favorite—on the cold granite counter of her private Senate office.

She told Maggie everything.

Or at least, she thought she did.

Maggie, ever loyal, kept the secret with saintly resolve. She listened with blushing ears and warm smiles. “Devon sounds like he really sees you,” she would say. “Don’t let that go.”

What Eleanor never knew: the woman sipping her wine, covering her sins, was not Maggie.

It was Richard—nestled inside Maggie’s body like a second skin. He wore her curves, her voice, her casual warmth as naturally as silk. He had made a hollow of the real Maggie weeks ago. And now, he maneuvered Maggie through Eleanor’s orbit with surgical precision.

Meanwhile, Savannah had started dressing differently. She wore bolder colors now. She smiled more. She asked to attend more of her mother’s public events. Eleanor, in her glowing delusion, believed this was growth. That their strained mother-daughter bond was healing.

She had no idea Richard now wore Savannah like a soft, young disguise. Slowly helping to corrupt, constantly wet. That her daughter was gone—reduced to a sticky, discarded echo of skin in a Airbnb shower, washed down the drain as Richard relished in her form and took her memories.

Then there was Ben. Sweet, shy, confused Ben. Savannah’s closeted brother. Eleanor had always worried about him. But lately, he’d seemed more… confident. Stylish. The way he looked at Devon now—it wasn’t subtle. Nor was it unreciprocated. That confused her to her core.

Because, of course, Richard had seduced Ben too.

Using hollow Devon’s body, and in the guise of his sister. He used the boy’s buried desire like a key. Whispered lies during sparring sessions at the gym. Locked doors. Breathless, stolen moments. Then, when the boy was finally pliant—panting and ****—Richard mimicked him. Wrapped himself in Ben’s skin, learning every twisted, repressed memory.

Now Ben, too, was a hollow. Another puppet in Richard’s theater of skins.

Even Greg—Eleanor’s husband

—was gone. Richard wore him as needed. His voice, his touch, his family-man image all puppeted with a mimic’s precision. Planting seeds for devilish acts.

And yet, Eleanor believed she was finally free. Her speeches were going viral. Donors were sending praise. Her new anti-LGBT legislation was polling higher than ever, and somehow—somehow—it didn’t even make her feel like a fraud anymore.

Because in her private world, she was being loved. Worshiped. Touched.

Devon made her feel powerful.

Needed.

Redeemable.

One night, she stood backstage after a nationally televised town hall. She wore red lipstick. Her hair was looser than usual. Maggie had encouraged it.

“You look ten years younger,” Maggie whispered. “You’re glowing.”

Eleanor smiled and texted Devon.

Done early. Want to come by?

He replied instantly.

Already outside.

But before she could leave, she received a text from her home security system. Motion detected in the master bedroom.

She froze.

Half-smiling, half-dreading, she pulled up the feed.

What she saw: her husband. In bed. Shirtless. Kissing a woman.

A woman who looked like… savannah.

No—who was savannah!!!

Eleanor’s smile cracked. Tears and confusion boiled.

Eleanor didn’t sleep.

After the security footage, she watched savannah leave her bedroom, slip on a robe like she’d lived there for years because she had, kiss her husband on the lips like teenagers in heat, and disappear down the hall back to her room with a mug of tea and cookies. She replayed the tape multiple times.. His own daughter?!

How could he.. And how could she fuck her own father!?!

It had to be fake. A glitch. Something.

But the next morning, the sheets were mussed. Her husband was chipper. Savannah helped make breakfast like it was any other day.

So Eleanor began to dig. She tried to play it off. But everyone literally knew her cracks were showing..

Her phone habits changed. She stopped texting everyone she knew entirely. She installed hidden cameras in her home—real ones. She started tracking savannahs movements. Tracked Ben’s. Maggies, and her husband.

And what she found… made her stomach knot.

Inconsistencies. Voices slightly off. Eye movements too still. Words repeated between family members as if scripted. Her children began saying things they never would. Greg’s hugs felt… wrong. Too hard. Stiff.

She even caught Devon saying a phrase Ben had used the day before.

She saw them. All of them. Shifting.

Mirroring each other.

Like masks passed between actors.

And yet… she said nothing. Not yet.

She was to scared. Her mind in a freak frenzy of confusion. And disbelief.

When savannah asked to have Mother daughter time one evening, Eleanor agreed.

She wore black.

She laced her daughter's tea with a slow-acting paralytic. Not enough to stop speech—but enough to make sure savannah didn’t leave. Her own daughter.. What In God's name is going one.. She wasn't about to **** her only daughter was she?! But ****.. If she had to be sure.. She needed to know..

They sat in the study, the door closed.

“savannah,” Eleanor said, smiling. “Do you remember when your father and I renewed our vows?"

Savannah blinked. “Of course I do.”

“What was the color of my garter?”

A pause. Not even a second—but Eleanor saw it.

“Blue,” savannah said. “It was something borrowed from your grandmother.”

“No,” Eleanor said, rising. “It was green. My sister's garter, your aunt. You were the one who helped me fix it. You cried with me in the bathroom before the ceremony, you had just had your first period not long before that.”

Savannah said nothing.

“I know it’s not you,” Eleanor whispered. “And I don’t know what you are. But I know you’re not her.”

And that’s when savannah —Richard—smiled.

“You were always sharper than the others,” the voice said. It wasn’t savannah anymore her baby girl... It was deeper. Velvety. Almost male.

Eleanor reached for her hidden pistol, tucked in a compartment in the desk.

But it was gone.

Richard held it already.

“You should’ve run,” he said. “You would’ve made it more fun.”

She lunged anyway—rage overtaking logic. But something.. Or rather someone caught her.. Devon. "what?!" Eleanor gasped.

He caught her, spun her. Pressed her against the bookcase. The air left her lungs as the shelves rattled.

“Fascinating,” Richard murmured in her ear. “Even now, you’re aroused.”

Running savannahs hand under her skirt.

“Go to hell.”

“Oh, I’ve been. I’ve lived in hells. And every time I take a new skin, I leave another one behind.”

He kissed her lips—delicately. Like a lover. Starting the mimic. Then the door opens, in walks a naked Ben, Greg, and Maggie. Shit eating grins on each face. Hardons ready for the fucking. Pussies wet ready to be taken. Assholes clinching to be stretched.

Looking around at everyone in savannah body.. he pushed her down. Jumping on top of her no longer fighting Mother.. She looks ****... Because she is.. With the desire to be taken. Greg and Ben, Begin to make out and stroke each other off. "mmhm dad, you taste so good. I'm so happy I can be open with you. I'm so happy we can teach this bitch of a mother what family truly means." be says with the most crooked smile. "of course son, and maybe you can even show her how a real man fucks her, I'm sure that nigger has only showed her raw sex" standing up from laying Eleanor down and Maggie's aggressively taking his cock in her mouth. "woah now mother fucker, I showed your wife how a real man dominates his prey, you should be thankful for all I've showed her. She's now the perfect fuck toy. Who's about to be under better management. Fuuuck, yeah. That's right gag bitch." Maggie has devons entire black cobra down her throat. All the way to the base and gagging, eyes watering, saliva pouring out of her mouth, hairs gripped into a tight mess. Maggie takes a second to catch her breath..." yeah, and who's made sure she's been going along with this whole fuckng thing? Me? And finally.. I get rewarded.. Mmmh... Keep face fucking me big boy.." sounds of taboo and debauchery were taking place all around savannah and Eleanor. Now..

The transformation began as always—with skin, sweat, and submission.

Eleanor fought. But her body betrayed her. The mimic had already stated to kicked in. Her strength faded. Her breath shortened. Richard took his time. Kissing and loving on her in the body of her daughter, and she was responding like that of a lover.

This one—this one—had to be perfect.

As he slid two fingers inside her mother's body, Eleanor felt her identity warp. She screamed—but it was a soft, silent scream. Her body dissolved. Her memories bled. Her resistance melted into twisted, euphoric confusion. Her daughter became her only lover. As she saw her daughter change.. Into her.. To anyone else, it was the most horrifying sight, body parts melting, Twisting, snapping, breaking into place. A perfect copy of Eleanors. To Eleanor.. Her brain was a fog, like being fucked up on lsd, molly, and shrooms at the same time. To Eleanor her new selfwas her only lover..

She tried to remember who she was.

But the pleasure was too much.

The New Eleanor leaned forward, staring.

The final seal required surrender. Total submission into her identity. The mimicry wasn’t just physical—it was sensory, spiritual, sexual. To become her, he had to taste what she’d buried deepest: her fears, her memories, her shame... her pleasure. All of it.

He closed his eyes.

And began to feel devons dick grow in between her legs. Perfectly obsidian, perfectly the same 10 inch mammoth that's ravaged her pussy, Maggie's pussy, Ben and Greg's assholes, and of course the prize jewel. Eleanor. Right has the new Eleanor shoves her massive cock into her own pussy..

Flash: A church pew.

Young Eleanor sat with perfect posture, hands folded, chin tilted up toward a man preaching sin and purity. Her knuckles were white. She dared not move.

Pounding harder, words don't exist only grunts and moans.

Flash: A dorm room.

She kissed a girl once, her best friend. Drunk. It lingered longer than it should have. They never spoke of it again. But Eleanor couldn’t forget. Neither did Maggie obviously.

Pussy is getting redder then a cherry.

Flash: Her wedding night.

Uncomfortable. Perfumed sheets. Eyes open.

She never said no.

But she never really said yes, either.

The old Eleanor can't control her orgasms or think for that matter, only give herself away to the mimic.. One climax after the other.

Flash: Her first debate.

The thrill. The rush of words like daggers. The mask slipping perfectly into place.

The only movement is of Richard, ravaging his new form. Keeping alive and still till the very last second.

Flash: Devon.

The way his hands dwarfed hers. The way his voice dropped when he called her “ma’am.” The way her body betrayed her convictions with every touch. Their first kiss, when he fingered her for the first time, when the fucked for the first time..

Richard as Eleanor, gasped.

Her heart was pounding inside his chest.

Her thighs trembled beneath his own fingers.

It was all blurring now—memories layered over senses, thoughts not his now flowing effortlessly into him. Eleanor's accent, her walk, her repressed desires—all of it sank deep into his nervous system.

And just before the transformation broke into completion—

Flash: A mirror.

Eleanor staring into it, decades older, finally alone. Whispering, “Who have I become?”

And now, Richard stared into that same mirror.

Her eyes.

Her voice.

Her soul.

He smiled.

“It’s me now.”

screamed as she came. memories flashed, and with it came his new self—sliding into every nerve ending, every moral code, every crevice of Eleanor Voss.

When he was done, the real Eleanor was a puddle of goop. Bones dissolved. Eyeglasses clattered to the floor.

Richard stood in her place. Grabbing her glasses as she stood.

Straightened her back, dripping in human goop, with human bodies fucking all around her..

Picked up her phone.

Practiced her smile.

And then, in Eleanor’s voice, he whispered: “Let the real campaign begin.” everyone laughing in union. Making a mimic of her daughter. She sends Maggie and Devon off as to not raise suspicion. They would end up at Maggie's home. Fucking until all hours of the night. At the manor, in the master bedroom.. "mhm sweetie, I love the way you eat your mommies pussy." while her son, fucks her in the ass. "mommy, you're the best tasting pussy I'll ever eat. Oh, dad.. Why did you stop? I thought you said you wouldn't until you got me pregnant?" straining himself to grab his daughter's breast. "sorry princess, I just... Really wanted to play with your nipple." as he leans back, has the best view and why what he was trying so difficult. His son, with his massive gay rod, was fucking his wife doggie style. While his daughter was 69, his wife finger fucking her pussy and eating her bean with her tounge. He just sat up and enjoyed the show. All the while his master gets even more pleasure out of Eleanor. Richard is to lost in carnal lust to even give a shit...

One Month Later

The campaign trail had been ruthless—but Eleanor Voss stood undefeated.

She was radiant in every appearance. Fierce at debates. Touching in town halls. Viral on social media. Her approval rating had doubled in three weeks.

And yet… beneath the confident voice and sharp smile, something simmered.

Something far older. And far less human.

She arrived in Charlotte for her final rally of the month, waving to the crowd, shaking hands with children, letting veterans kiss her hand. Her new chief of security—Devon Hale—never left her side.

He stood behind her as she spoke:

“We will take back what was stolen from our values. From our families. From our future.”

Applause.

She didn’t blink once.

Not far behind them, Maggie took the stage for her own speech—a last-minute endorsement no one expected. The crowd roared. Eleanor “smiled” as Maggie called her the only moral voice left in the room.

The camera snapped a perfect moment: Devon, Maggie, and Eleanor standing side by side—three faces of public integrity.

Not one of them was real.

Elsewhere

Greg—the hollow of Eleanor’s husband—sat at a boardroom table, guiding the largest merger in southern healthcare history. He signed the contracts with his signature smile, orchestrating subtle changes in hospital policy. Some of them quiet. Some of them dangerous.

Every intern in the office wanted to be near him. Every assistant seemed more… distracted around him.

---

Savannah, Eleanor’s daughter, now interned at a progressive nonprofit, having just come out publicly. The media adored her courage. She dated a beautiful woman—a hollow Richard sculpted from a late-night Tinder mimic.

Savannah’s new girlfriend whispered things in her ear that made her question her faith, her upbringing, and her sexuality.

Savannah called Maggie often.

Maggie was always supportive. Too supportive.

Ben, once Eleanor’s dependable son, now had a sharper edge.

He started investing in alt-tech companies. Became more vocal about “truth suppression” and “erased narratives.”

He met with Senators behind closed doors, whispering poison into their ears. His eyes were always calculating.

He had Eleanor’s backing. Publicly. Financially. Emotionally. Physically.

He had her name.

A long mahogany table gleamed beneath crystal light.

The dining room in Eleanor’s estate was set for six. All naked around the table, hands freely groping each other.

Fine crystal. Rare wine. Roast duck, perfectly carved.

Maggie poured and kissed each person as if a requirement. Devon refilled the glasses and got everyone off with his massive cock. Ben made a sly joke that made Savannah blush. While fingering her the whole time.

Greg raised a toast.

“To unity,” he said.

They clinked glasses. Kissed one another, all with tounge and sexual undertones.

And smiled. A Gigantic, feverish smile.

Each of them held the same smile.

Each of them sat with perfect posture. If you would call jacking off your son under the table while eating only what the top 1 percent can eat. Perfect posture. Richard chuckled to himself in Eleanor’s flawless figure.

Each of them breathed in sync. Mainly because they were all to horny... All of the time.

Eleanor watched them all, the queen at the head of her table.

The mimic didn’t need to pretend anymore.

He had them all.

A perfect masquerade—six lives, one presence.

One being.

They laughed. Ate. Touched each other’s bodies no family and friends should.

From the outside, it looked like a family celebrating a victorious campaign. Well. If you were in the room you'd have a different idea. Very.. Very different.

From the inside… it was a hive in human skin. Sexual thoughts, and actions always played out by the Voss family. Eleanor’s closets friend.. And of course. Sexy bodyguard.

And in the quiet moment between dessert and brandy, they all looked at each other— because honestly Richard just wanted to fuck.. All six of them. So.

—no words—

—and grinned.

Because the next sexual escapedes were going to go down.

---

Later that Night

Behind closed doors, in the master bedroom of Eleanor’s estate, loud edm played through the silence.

The lights were blazing around like a vip section at a strip club. ****, coke, speed, meth, extacy, weed and of course booze. For every body to enjoy to its fullest. A single candle flickered. To give Richard one last reminder of Eleanor. As he decendes her into **** taboo.

Eleanor stood in the center of the room, Ben and her daughter savannah. unzipping her dress with deliberate grace, her eyes locked on the man lounging on her bed. Past her son,

Devon—his shirt open, chest glistening—watched her with a calm, primal focus. She begins to jack off her son, slow motions at first. Then Ben makes a face. perfect. She starts to go faster never losing eye contact with Devon. Savannah moves away to let Maggie have a turn. Savannah then Turns to her father jacking off to her lying on bed. "baby girl, I've wanted you for so long. I've always wanted to hear you moan. An that's true. You're father's fucked up, he's got a huge **** kink towards you." hands gliding up and down the already wet dick with precum. "oh daddy, I never knew you wanted to fuck your little princess, now that I know.. With new management. I'd be happy to be daddies naughty little girl." she laughs while gargling down her father's cock.

Maggie knelt behind Eleanor, her fingers slipping under the hem of the dress. She pressed her lips gently between Eleanor’s ass cheeks, tracing the same path Devon had taken hours before.

There were no secrets anymore.

No barriers. She kissed her son with so much passion as Maggie twisted and pinched her nipples. "do you wanna see my son take me Devon?" Devon could only shake his head with anticipation. This perfectly scripted show, turned Richard on to no end. Being warshiped by his hollows, perfectly imitating his family, bodyguard lover, and friend. Maggie helps Ben lay down, as Eleanor strips her panties. Maggie sucks Ben off just to get the heat rising. "tell me when big boy." Eleanor to Devon.. Slowly sinking her wet snatched to her son rock hard dick. Just the tip started to slip past.. Ever slowly, Eleanor cooed, Maggie sympytheticly cooing with her. Slowly.. Slowly.. "now!" shouts Devon, as Eleanor impales herself on her son's cock Rock hard cock.. - my son's cock is home. My son's cock is inside me -the incestual thought echoed in her brain. Richard was lost in destroying her entire life and values. Behind her, could be heard the smacking sounds of Greg bending savannah over the bed, and taking her virgin ass. Savannah screaming, "fuck my ass daddy, make me come with my ass.. Oooh fuck daddy... Mmmm yes!!"

Only skin. Heat. Breath.

Eleanor moaned softly as Devon approached from the front, cradling her jaw in his large hand. He kissed her mouth while Maggie kissed her spine, both mimics touching the original like she was a canvas they had mastered. While she thrawled around like a bitch in heat on her son's cock.

Maggie whispered, “You trust us, don’t you?”

Eleanor nodded, lost in it.

Devon lowered his dick to her mouth. Maggie grabbed the back of her head. The four tangled in a carnal passion, each touch a word, each kiss a new command.

Six bodies. Five shells. One mind.

And Richard, completely aware, surrendered to it.

The old Eleanor would literally die, from any one of these acts she or her family are doing

But she was being rewritten—loudly, rhythmically, completely.

The mimic didn’t take her power.

He made her give it.

With every gasp, he took everything from from her, her family, her friend, her job, her power, and her influence. Who would be the next person in power for Richard to break? As Eleanors son came the hardest stream of his life into his waiting Mother, as Devon came steamy hot cum in Eleanor’s mouth, as Maggie came from fucking herself with a dildo, hand pressed the back of Eleanors head, and as Greg finished into his feral daughter sweet, ripe pot. They all fall where the lay. Slightly exhausted from. The first round. Until Mother deerest jumps up, "Devon, Maggie. It's been a wonderful eventful evening. Would you be so kind as to clean yourselves up, change, get my things ready for me tomorrow. And be on your marry way?" the both looked at each other with hollow eyes nodded, made out passionately with everyone in the room before leaving." talk to you tomorrow chick." Maggie's warm loving tone raidiated through the air." have a wonderful night ma'am, I'll check the perimeter, and escote madam molly to her residence, and as requested. Will still over night to insure her safety." side by side, the hollow best friend, and hollow security guard turned lover left the senator and her family, before the closed the door, the sounds of bodies smacking, moans, and all sorts of curse words were left their own taboo devices.

Richard would lose himself into his new hive.. Taking advantage of the vosses power. Influencing anyone he want.. Until he got bored... Until. He decided to bring another family down to their knees.

To be continued?.....