I took a steadying breath, gripping the syringe as I looked into the mirror. The face staring back was Ethan Rogers - ordinary, a bit rough around the edges. But tonight, that would change. Tonight, I’d become someone else entirely, someone with poise, allure, and charm sharp enough to make wealthy men a little too generous.
Raising the syringe to my neck, I exhaled and pressed the plunger. A sharp sting, then a surge of warmth as the nanites flooded my bloodstream, spreading from my neck to my chest, pooling in my stomach with an electric intensity. I braced myself on the counter, feeling each shift snap into place, vivid and more intense than ever before.
Then I heard the front door click open, followed by Julia’s voice. “Ethan?”
Damn. She wasn’t supposed to be back yet.
Her footsteps drew closer, and before I could react, she was at the doorway. Her eyes widened as she took in the syringe, the changes already reshaping me. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped, irritation slicing through her words. “We had plans tonight, Ethan! I wanted to spend time together - just us.”
I stifled a groan as the serum worked its way through me, transforming me from the inside out. “Julia, you knew tonight was the Met Gala,” I said, my voice softening as my vocal cords shifted. “I told you weeks ago.”
She crossed her arms, glaring. “You said we’d go out,” she retorted. “Not that you’d be… injecting yourself and turning into Erin again.”
I gritted my teeth, struggling to stay composed as the changes intensified, my body shifting in waves. Warmth spread across my shoulders as they narrowed, my collarbone becoming more prominent. A soft gasp escaped as heat pooled across my chest.
My pecs softened, flesh rounding and swelling into full, heavy breasts - sensitive, undeniably real. A quiet, involuntary moan slipped out as my nipples tightened, prickling against the cool air. The sensation was almost euphoric, a strange mix of pleasure and anticipation that left me shivering.
Julia’s glare didn’t soften. “Look at you, Ethan,” she said, almost in disbelief. “Turning into her again, like it’s nothing. How much longer can you keep doing this?”
“Julia, you know how important this is,” I managed, Erin’s velvety tone slipping easily into my voice. “I’m not just doing this for fun.”
“Oh, really?” Julia scoffed, folding her arms tighter, her eyes narrowing. “Then why does it look like you’re enjoying this?”
I started to respond, but she shook her head, her irritation shifting into something closer to hurt. “No,” she said, her voice quiet but sharp. “You’re doing this for the thrill, the attention, the chance to disappear and leave me here alone.” She gave a bitter laugh, glancing away.
Her words hung in the air, thick with frustration and disappointment. For a moment, I was frozen, caught in her gaze as she looked at the syringe in my hand, my body already rippling with changes.
“Really, Ethan?” she repeated, her voice slicing through the air. “I should be the one in the fancy gown tonight, don’t you think? Not my boyfriend.” Her tone was bitter, but I saw something else - a flicker of loss, maybe regret.
I took a breath, tried to respond, but the transformation surged again. I gripped the sink as warmth radiated through my core, my waist contracting, ribs narrowing, hips rounding out. My skin buzzed with sensitivity as my frame softened, the last traces of Ethan fading until Erin stared back at me in the mirror.
“Julia…” I managed, my voice fully softened, hovering somewhere between my natural pitch and Erin’s sultry cadence. “You knew tonight was the Met Gala. This shouldn’t be a surprise.”
She rolled her eyes, unmoving. “Yeah, you *mentioned* it,” she said with a frustrated huff. “But I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it… over spending time with me.” She shook her head, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of genuine hurt in her eyes. “I thought maybe you’d consider that I wanted us to have a night together - just us. Just Ethan and Julia.”
I opened my mouth to explain, but she turned away, biting her lip as if holding back more. “It’s like… I barely see you as yourself anymore.”
“Julia, come on.” Erin’s rich, velvety tones slipped out effortlessly, as if they’d always been mine. “You know how important this is,” I said, trying to soothe her. “I’m not just doing this for fun.”
“Oh, I get it,” she replied, her voice low, eyes flashing with frustration and resignation. “Important for you.” She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms tighter. “Then tell me - how did you even get tickets to the Met Gala?”
I smirked, letting Erin’s confidence surface. “Convinced a publicist I was a noted fashion critic. Played the mysterious, reclusive angle. They loved it.”
Julia’s lips twitched in a reluctant, bitter smile. “Of course, you did,” she muttered, a hint of admiration breaking through her frustration. For a fleeting moment, it felt like we’d found some rare common ground - but then her expression hardened, her eyes narrowing again, tinged with anger and sadness.
She turned, her shoulders stiff as she moved to leave. A pang of desperation rose in my chest. “Wait,” I called softly, almost pleading. “Could you… help me with the dress?” Vulnerability flushed through me - no matter how well I played Erin, moments like this reminded me I wasn’t quite her.
Julia sighed, her shoulders slumping as she turned back, her gaze softening just enough to reveal a trace of sympathy, though annoyance still edged her eyes. “Fine,” she muttered. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
My heart thrummed with a mix of anticipation and unease as I followed her into the bedroom. She moved to the closet, lifting the gown and shaking it out with quick, precise motions. The fabric shimmered in the dim light, the delicate beads and sequins catching the soft glow and casting tiny flecks of light around the room like stars. Julia’s movements were practiced as she held the gown for me to step into, her hands steady but her expression taut.
Once she zipped me in, I adjusted the bodice, smoothing the satin and tulle over Erin’s curves. I felt a rush as the gown settled into place, the weight and movement making me feel both regal and vulnerable. I took a few steps, and the skirt swayed around me, the fabric gliding with an elegance that felt surreal. There was something intoxicating about the way the dress moved, each step making me feel like I was gliding rather than walking. For a moment, I couldn’t help but feel like royalty, like a princess stepping into her moment. I turned to Julia, offering a small, hopeful smile. “How do I look?”
Julia stepped back, crossing her arms as her gaze swept over me with reluctant admiration. “You look… amazing,” she admitted, her voice a blend of envy and disbelief. “Like royalty, really.” Her eyes softened, but a flicker of jealousy lingered. “I can’t believe my boyfriend is the one living my fantasy. I’ve always dreamed of wearing a gown like that, going to the Met, feeling… like this.” Her voice trailed off, bitterness creeping in as she looked me up and down, almost wistful.
Her eyes lingered, as though she could picture herself in my place. She shook her head and sighed, stepping back with a slight, resigned smile. “It’s just surreal, you know?”
Without another word, she turned and left, her footsteps receding until the door clicked shut. Silence filled the room, her words hanging in the air like an echo, wrapping around me like the satin of the gown.
I stood there a moment, letting the stillness settle. Then, returning to the bathroom, I focused on the final touches: Erin’s hair styled just right, foundation smoothed to perfection, smoky eyeshadow, blush, and a touch of highlighter. The reflection staring back belonged on a magazine cover: Erin Mitchell, a woman of elegance and allure, poised for her moment.
Satisfied, I grabbed my clutch and slipped into the heels waiting by the door. With each step, the added height and sway of the gown drew me deeper into Erin’s world. By the time I reached the lobby doors, Ethan had fully disappeared.
Outside, a sleek black limo waited, city lights reflecting off its polished surface. Inside, familiar silhouettes and glimmers of jewelry caught my eye. I smoothed my gown, took a steadying breath, and slid into the seat alongside the women who were as deeply embedded in this game as I was.
Raquel lounged closest, smirking in a deep emerald gown that hugged her curves with effortless allure. Samantha sat beside her, poised in a shimmering silver dress, her intricate updo and cool expression exuding polished sophistication. Across from them, Jasmine looked almost angelic in soft lavender, her curls framing a shy, inviting smile.
“Erin,” Raquel drawled, raising a glass of champagne, her smirk widening. “Glad you could finally join us.”
I returned her smile, letting Erin’s practiced charm fall naturally into place. “Wouldn’t miss it,” I replied, lifting the glass waiting for me.
The limo glided through the city, the soft hum of the engine blending with quiet laughter and the clink of glasses. Luxurious fabric brushed against my skin, the weight of jewelry adding a subtle thrill. Tonight, each of us wore more than gowns; we wore identities crafted for this exact moment.
We weren’t just friends; we were co-conspirators, bound by shared secrets and the exhilaration of inhabiting someone else. In this game, we weren’t just pretending - we were becoming. Tonight, we were queens of the city, and the night was only beginning.
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