My name is Sadie Collins.
A quiet, introverted girl from Montana, who recently moved to Seattle to attend college. Blonde, blue-eyed and naturally pretty, I’ve always been relatively popular but I only had one serious boyfriend before college.
I was the first in my family to go to college. My dad slapped me on the back and called it a “damn miracle” when I got accepted to biology in Seattle. My mom cried. They were hard workers but never had a chance to succeed in life and were happy for me. I knew I had good grades, but I was still overjoyed when I read the admission letter.
Relocating to Seattle however was a different experience for me. First of all, finding housing in Seattle was a nightmare. After dozens of unanswered listings and three scam attempts, I ended up in a creaky third-floor walk-up that smelled faintly of incense, dust, and nail polish remover. But the rent was cheap. And I wasn’t in a position to be picky. I would live there with two other girls. They were… different from me. Dark clothes, heavy eyeliner, goth items—but honestly? They were friendly.

Elise had green eyes and jet-black hair. Luna was more aloof, her dyed blue hair wild and jagged like sea glass, her brown eyes calmer, observant. I immediately suspected they weren’t just friends, but they probably didn’t want to scare off a country girl like me. Or maybe they were just really close friends.
They were a few years older than me and didn’t seem too focused on their classes—assuming they were still enrolled at all. They had a way of making college life feel like background noise to something more important.
Before classes started, I tried to look into joining a sorority—mostly because I was desperate to belong somewhere in that environment. But every house I checked was already full. I was starting to feel like I didn’t belong anywhere.
That’s when my roommates mentioned their sorority still had open spots. It was called Delta Nocturna.
I hesitated. The name alone sounded like a vampire fan club. Did I really want to hang out with a bunch of goth girls? But I didn’t have many options, and they promised it wasn’t that weird. Just… different.
And different, I guess, was better than alone.

So I said yes. Why not?
For the semester kickoff party, I had to borrow one of my flatmates’ outfits—none of mine made the cut given the strict dress code. The only condition I gave them was no black. I thought that was reasonable. So they handed me a shiny red dress, tight and laced up the front. It was… cute, in its own way, but way bolder than anything I’d ever worn. They paired it with fishnet stockings and called it “entry-level.”
I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back—fishnets clinging to my thighs, the dress hugging me in ways that felt unusually sexy. My heart pounded, but it wasn’t from fear. I smiled, just a little. Maybe this is what it takes to be part of something. Elise draped a chocker around my neck. “Welcome to Delta Nocturna, Sadie.”
The party was something wild, nothing like I had seen before. The sisters of Delta Nocturna moved like shadows in the flickering strobe lights, their confidence slightly intimidated but also fascinated me. They belonged here, in this haze of cigarette smoke and bass-heavy music.

I noticed that many of them seemed to be lesbians, or at least bi, which alarmed me a bit – I had nothing against LGTB people but I was straight and I didn’t want to end up in a lesbian club. Imagine what would people say!
But… I had fun. I laughed. I got a little tipsy. I danced. I even forgot I was plain Sadie from Montana for a while. I just felt like a cool girl hanging out with my friends. Luckily, they had invited some guys too, from a similar fraternity, also aiming at people with goth/emo-inspired looks. They seemed to be more interested in girl with a heavy goth look though. I drank more than I should have. Not just beer, cocktails of all kinds. Not enough to black out—just enough to relax. Elise did her best to keep my glass full all the time.
Around midnight, I slipped outside and waited in my flatmate’s car. She said she’d just be a minute. The night was not too cool, and the hum of the streetlights felt oddly soothing.
I must’ve nodded off.
That was my first mistake.

I woke up in my bed, still wearing the red dress from the party. My head was spinning, and my mouth was dry—but something else felt off. My nose. There was something in my nose.
Oh God. I stumbled to the mirror, and the second I saw my reflection, I froze. A septum ring. Two nostril studs. No. No no no— My stomach dropped. I nearly fainted. “What the fuck is this?” I whispered, then yelled.
Elise appeared in the doorway, way too calm. “Hey, hey—calm down, sweetie. It’s just… an initiation rite. Sorta. You’re one of us now. We had to push you a little, but look at you—you look amazing. Push me a little?!” I snapped. “You got me drunk. You pierced my face while I was asleep!” I slammed the door and sank to the floor, the tears coming fast and hot.
I thought about packing. Just grabbing my bag and disappearing back to Montana. But then I thought about my parents. About all the people who’d said I wouldn’t make it. About how I was the first in my family to come this far. So I wiped my face. I wasn’t going to quit.

I spotted a tray on my desk, arranged with different piercings. I reached up and slowly removed the ones they had put in while I slept. My nose stung slightly. Carefully, I tried one of the smaller rings. When I looked in the mirror, it wasn’t all bad. I looked… kinda hot? Besides, I could just take them off, right? I turned to grab my clothes, only to realize they were gone. My closet was full of tight skirts, lace, leather, chokers, sheer tights. Mostly black. I stepped out of the room. “Hey… uh, sorry for my outburst earlier,” I said. “I mean… I kinda do look cute.” “That’s my girl!” Elise smiled, lounging on the couch. “Yeah—only one thing… where are my clothes? Are they in the laundry or—?” She shook her head. “No, they’re gone. See, Delta Nocturna has a strict dress code. You’re one of us now. So we had to make some adjustments. What you have now are donations from sisters.” I blinked. “So… all the time?” “All. The. Time.” She gave me a wink. “It’s not just a sorority, Sadie. It’s a lifestyle.” I stood there in silence, processing it. This was starting to feel less like a social group and more like a cult. I didn’t have the money to replace my wardrobe. I didn’t have other friends. And I needed something—some kind of support system in this city. So I nodded slowly.

Most days, I toned things down. I’d swap out the heavier piercings for a simple silver septum ring and pick the most conventional black outfit I now owned—ribbed turtlenecks, pleated faux-leather skirts, nothing too flashy. I still looked a little extravagant compared to the average student, but not too much. I guess it gave me a little more personality and I didn’t mind that at all.
The reactions were instant. A raised eyebrow in lecture halls. A whispered “Delta Nocturna?” from strangers. The funny thing? I’d started spotting sorority sisters everywhere. It was easier to stay in the orbit of my sorority sisters than to explain myself to others. Even if I wasn’t quite like them. Most of them leaned hard into the aesthetic. Dark lipstick, full-black eyeshadow, jet-black hair, spiderweb tights and velvet everything. I was impressed by their commitment. Compared to them I looked quite vanilla. I liked my blonde bob. And I could tell. Some of them noticed. The side-eyes. The quiet pauses. As if I wasn’t goth enough. But I’d found my balance.
Somewhere between who I was before, and who I was now. And for now… that was enough.

END OF PART 1

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She woke to the steady beep of machines in a luxury cosmetic surgery clinic. Her head pounded. Her back ached deep, like her bones had been rearranged.
“Ah—fuck,” she croaked. That voice wasn’t hers. It was higher, smoother, vowels dragging out weirdly.
“My head hurts.” A faint accent twisted the words—English with a Spanish lilt. Panic hit. She tried sitting up but wobbled, everything feeling off-balance, like she was smaller.
“What the hell did you do to me?” she whispered. “I don’t see anything different,” she muttered. “My skin… hair… same as always.” Was it? Footsteps approached. “Nurse,” she called. “I need a mirror!”

The nurse dragged her to a fancy bathroom.
She stared. The face was not really hers anymore. Her cheeks were fuller, her jaw softer, her nose flatter. Lips plumper, not puffy—permanent.
Her skin glowed naturally, not just a tan, not anymore. She was also significantly shorter, just 158 cm (5 ft 2 in) now.
“Oh fuck! I’m fully Latina now!” she breathed.
She tested her mouth. “And why do I sound—” Stopped. Tried again. “Why do I sound like Spanish is my native tongue? Did they mess up with my vocal chords? Or my tongue?”

The following weeks dissolved into a routine of Spanish lessons and makeup classes, a language she now spoke with a native accent, despite her still-limited vocabulary. English had been forbidden.
She also noticed the gaps in her memory. Anything related to combat had been erased, along with much of her higher education. It was like walking through a house where entire rooms had been walled off, she sensed the emptiness but couldn’t recall what had once been there.
She felt misplaced in this new body and role, trained to a pretty accessory on heels, and yet her memories of life as an American soldier were alien to her and grew fainter by the day.

Meeting Elise again after several weeks was a disorienting experience. Elise was visibly emotional, her eyes glistening as she took in the former soldier. Carito, however, seemed distant, adrift in her own thoughts.
“What’s going on, cariño?” Elise asked gently, searching her face. “You seem… far away.”
Carito hesitated. “I can’t remember much about you… before this” she admitted shy.
Elise’s expression tightened. “What about the military?”
Carito’s response came automatically: “No lo recuerdo.” I don’t remember.

Captain Elise Bennett smiled and understood that her function as a guide had ended as Carito had reached the final stage of her transformation. Any trace of fighting spirit seemed to have vanished in the doe brown yes of the Latina. No more worries of a possible rebellion. She reported that to Diego, who was more than happy to hear about the news.
At that point, Carito was considered ready to graduate to the final stage of her training: being a pretty little thing to serve Diego and his friends. She was made to wear revealing, humiliating outfits designed to celebrate her curves and her newfound national and ethnic identity.

The dress they gave her that night wasn’t meant to be worn for comfort. It clung where it shouldn’t, dipped where it embarrassed, featuring extravagant, hand-made designs with bold fabrics, sequins, and feathers.. Carito adjusted it without thinking, smoothing the fabric over her hips.
“¡Qué costume!” she breathed, not with shame, but with a dull, practiced admiration. The words felt automatic, a line from a script she no longer remembered learning.
She caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled, softly. She realized she didn’t remember anymore even the details of her own old familiar American face.

She carried the glass carefully, hips swaying with an ease that still surprised her. Ice cubes clinked as she set the glass down in front of Diego and the others. Their eyes followed her movements with interest now, some men were whistling, some slapped her exposed buttchecks. She didn’t flinch. She barely noticed.
“Hola chicos,” she said brightly, her voice a melodic, accented chim not feeling bothered by their treatment. “Aquí están las drinks.”
Diego squeezed her hip appreciatively, and she leaned into the touch like a cat seeking warmth. Diego pulled her close. He murmured something to her, his breath warm against her ear.

Carito nodded, her doe-brown eyes wide and empty. “Sí, Diego.” She let him lead her from the terrace, her heels clicking a hypnotic rhythm on the marble.
Also in the terrace, Elise watched her pass, sipping her own drink.
Carito walked differently now. Slower. Sensually. Carito paused briefly at the bedroom door, adjusting her hair, checking her lipstick in the reflection of a silver mirror. Then she jumped on the bed. She knew what would come next, and she was excited about it.
Elise watched the bedroom door close. The loud, rehearsed moans that seeped through the wood were the final confirmation.

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She didn’t hesitate. “Melanotan. It stimulates melanin production.” I stared at the arm. “It will help your new skin tone become consistent.” she said, her voice devoid of anything but fact. “I… don’t want this!” – I replied, scared.
“Come on, you look good like this!” – Elise commented. “Look at you, nobody would guess you’re the natural blonde between us!” – she added with a hint of pleasure.
I went back to my room, inspecting my body. My nipples had also turned dark brown, as had my labia. And my hair was starting to grow naturally dark brown.

In fact, my hair roots were now darker then the rest of hair. Combined with my now brown skin, it looked as it I had bleached my hair a shade of brown lighter than my natural color.
Elise immediately corrected that by applying ink black dye to my wavy long hair.
But that wasn’t the worst. I had noticed how my breasts had been growing at an alarming rate lately. I was definitely too old for a natural breast growth and my hips were also getting wider. Something was up. I confessed it to Elise, who reassured me telling me it could be a side effect of the taking drug.

Just to be sure, I was sent to undergo a quick medical checkout that turned out to be just an excuse to drag me to a clinic, where they asked me to undress and to breathe in a gas to relax. After a few seconds I was dozing off.
They worked intensively on my body. I got breast implants – much bigger than Elise’s, if she had any. I later found out hers were natural, actually. We had been given the same hormones to stimulate breast and hips growth but in my case that was deemed not sufficient. Breast implants would make me look like a good trophy wife.
They also gave me a Brazilian butt job, botox injections and lip fillers.

I woke up with round breast implants, a big butt and a heavily remodeled face. Somehow they had even turned my blue eyes brown. But what shocked me the most were the breast implants.
I didn’t have the body of an American soldier anymore.
I had the body of a curvy Latina.
My transformation turned out to be even more shocking than that of Elise.
Even if I were to be freed, I would have a lot of explanations to give to my friends, family and coworkers. I would be all over the news. A wave of shame washed over me. Suddenly, the option of a shameful exile in Venezuela did not sound too bad.

“I’m ruined! I’m fucking ruined!” – I told Elise when I had the chance to talk to her.
“Don’t say that loud, you’re much better than before. By the way, by now, they expect you to succumb. Play dumb. Let them think you’ve accepted your role. Confused. Grateful. It keeps you alive. There are worse endings than being a trophy girlfriend. And as long as you’re breathing, there’s still a chance to escape.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” I asked. “My God, Elise, I really thought—” – I replied, my voice too high for the surprise.
“Shhh! They’re coming!”

A man named Diego asked Elise what the hell was going on.
Elise laughed, light and careless. “Oh—Carito was telling me how happy she is with the size of her tetas!” I nodded, looking intimidated.
“Carito?” – he asked.
“Yes,” Elise said easily. “She’s not much of a gringa anymore. I think it suits her better. Carito. Carito Cruz.”
Diego rolled the name around in his mouth, then nodded once. “I like that.” He scribbled something on the document in front of him.

“By the way, tetona,” he said, almost amused, “since you like to talk so much, you’re going to read this. Out loud. For the camera.” I did as I was told. I lowered my eyes, showed fear and gratitude.
“I regret my previous life and I commit my new one to the Socialist Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela. From now on, I wish to be called Carito Cruz, to symbolize my new nationality. I have requested and obtained cosmetic surgeries that have rendered me a more pleasing woman and I vow to keep working on that. I will be a good role model for women and…” – I rolled my eyes “and for the soldiers of Venezuela. 
Gloria al Bravo Pueblo!”

“What have I done?” I whispered when the man was gone. Now everyone would think I was a traitor, someone who had willingly crossed over, who had smiled for the cameras to avoid pain. Someone who had chosen this. This was the torture.
“What are you going to do to me? What do you mean,” I pressed, “that you don’t need me to be recognizable anymore?”
Elise didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was almost kind.
“Recognizable to who?” She stepped closer, careful, as if approaching something fragile. “To your army? Your country? Who cares? Soon,” she said softly, “you won’t feel shame anymore because you’ll be somebody new.”

END OF PART 2

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One day, the real Trisha was in the lift, leaving her office when the lift stopped at floor 2. Lauren entered with a smile, wearing a similar outfit to Trisha, a sport bra hiding the true size of her breasts to look spot on.
“Oh, is it you, Lauren? You look…”
“Even more like you? Yeah, I thought I might as well embrace it. You were right. This body is modelled after you, so I decided to give in and adopt your hairstyle and fashion sense too. And Dan loves it.”
“Oh, this is… weird actually. I thought you were mad at me!”
“At first, yes. I’m not going to lie, but then, I had an idea.”
As she said this, she extracted a spray can from her bag. Trisha’s eyes went wide. “Don’t worry, this is just a spray to put you to sleep. The rest won’t be so bad either. Dan is waiting for us in the underground parking.”
Trisha backed up against the lift wall, fear and confusion etched on her face. “Lauren, what are you doing? This isn’t right!”

“Yes, she’s out. Help me get her into the car,” Lauren instructed.

Lauren advanced, her expression calm yet determined. “I know it sounds crazy, but trust me, this is for the best.”
Before Trisha could react further, Lauren sprayed the can, and Trisha slumped unconscious against the wall. Lauren quickly caught her and held her upright as the lift continued to descend. Her heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and resolve.
When the lift reached the underground parking, Dan was waiting by their car, his expression tense but resolute. “Is she…?” he began.
“Yes, she’s out. Quick, help me get her into the car,” Lauren instructed. Together, they carefully placed Trisha in the back seat, making sure she was secure and comfortable. Then Lauren took Trisha’s car keys, casually smiled at a colleague who waved at her and drove away in her car, following Dan’s.
They took Trisha home with them, undressed her, and pushed her inside another custom model bodysuit. Putting on the special contacts was a bit harder with the woman still unconscious but they managed.

Trisha woke up some time later in Dan and Lauren’s apartment, a headache still lingering. “What the fuck did that bitch do to me?”
Lauren was sitting on the sofa in front of her, still dressed in Trisha’s outfit. “Hey, I can hear you! How do you feel?”
“You are going to pay for this! You…” Trisha stopped, noticing something off with her hand. It was… white! She had the hand of a white woman. “Aah! AAAAh!” She screamed, shaking it in front of her.
“This is exactly as great as I would have imagined it!” Lauren said, grinning.
“I’m… wearing a skin suit too?” Trisha asked, her voice trembling.
“They told me you were a smart girl!” Lauren replied, still composed.
“A skin suit of you?” Trisha asked, looking at the short wavy blonde strands of hair visible from her view.
“Mmh-mmh.”
Trisha tried to reach for the zipper, but it was already disappearing. She rushed to a mirror. Her eyes were blue, her hair blonde, her chest nearly flat. “Am I stuck like this?”

“Afraid so,” Lauren commented calmly. “It wasn’t so hard to get another custom bodysuit from the same company as compensation, with exactly the same issue. It seems like they’re able to detect those problems now.”
“But… why?” Trisha asked, her voice filled with anguish.
“Well, we were fighting for the same man and, in a way, you have won. You are going to be Lauren, his steady girlfriend. You’ll get to sleep with him, not only tonight, but every night. Aren’t you happy? I’ll leave soon; this is your house, after all. But I’ll get to see him every day at work and we’r going have an affair. I’ve found out I love playing the part of the alluring mistress more than anything.”
Trisha’s mind raced as she processed the information. “You can’t be serious! You expect me to just accept this?”
Lauren smiled, her demeanor cool and collected. “You don’t have much of a choice, do you? This is your reality now. You can either fight it or make the best of it.”
Trisha looked at her reflection again, the shock still evident on her face. “This is insane. How do you expect us to live like this?”

Lauren walked over, placing a hand on Trisha’s shoulder. “We both love Dan, and he loves both of us. He needs both of us. Without sweet Lauren, his affair with Trisha wouldn’t be so exciting. I’m sore you noticed the lack of passion in the last few times. We’ll just get to explore a new role. For now, just focus on adjusting. It’s not so bad, really.”
Trisha slumped down onto the sofa, overwhelmed. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Lauren sat down beside her, her expression softening. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but think about it. You’ll have the life you’ve always wanted, stability, and a partner who loves you. I’ll be the exciting diversion, the one who spices things up. You’ve also gained white privilege, while I’ve lost it. People will be much nicer to you.”
Trisha shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the situation. “And you think Dan will just go along with this?”
Lauren nodded. “He loves us both. This way, he doesn’t have to choose. He gets the best of both worlds. We’ll make it work, Lauren. We have to.”

Trisha, now living as Lauren, readjusted surprisingly quickly after the initial shock. Deep down, she had always been envious of white girls, and seeing her white skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair in the mirror every day was a weird but strangely satisfying experience. She wasn’t herself anymore, true, but she was together with Dan, and that brought her a sense of fulfillment.
She found herself embracing the new aspects of her life with a mix of curiosity and determination. Her job was a typical office role, not too different from Trisha’s previous position as a secretary. It required a bit more focus and attention to detail, but it also paid better, allowing her and Dan a comfortable lifestyle.
One evening, as they sat together on their balcony, watching the sunset, Lauren turned to Dan and smiled. “I never imagined my life would turn out like this,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s been a crazy journey, but I’m grateful for where we are now.”
Dan took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I’m grateful too. We’ve been through a lot, but we’ve come out stronger. I love you… Lauren.”

Trisha, as she had learned to see herself, also found her new life surprisingly fulfilling. She had to justify her bigger breast size with a fabricated story about breast enhancement surgery, which caused embarrassment in the whole office, but it was the only thing to do. She couldn’t hide them with constrictive sports bras anymore when at the office. Too bad she couldn’t admit it was Dan’s fault. But it only added to the seductress aura Trisha had always had.
The job as a receptionist was slightly demeaning compared to her previous job, but it complemented well her new persona. She embraced the role with grace, finding it liberating in a way her old life never was.
She lived in a smaller apartment downtown and had many friends, mostly other Indian-Americans. These friends introduced her to a rich cultural heritage she had never explored before. They went to Bollywood movie nights, danced at traditional festivals, and cooked elaborate meals together. Trisha found herself fitting into this community more naturally than she ever had as Lauren. Her evenings with Dan were an exhilarating escape, but her daily life as Trisha was becoming its own source of contentment.

Months later, Trisha, was looking forward to to spend another evening with Dan. She had been conflicted about leaving behind the option of a steady life together with her love, but what she was having now was incredible. It was her fantasy too, now.
“Are you excited about tonight?”
“I can’t wait!” Dan replied, a slight distance in his tone.
“How are things going with your girlfriend?” Trisha asked, running her fingers through her hair.
“She’s adjusting really well! We’re planning a cruise to the Caribbean this summer!” Dan replied, smiling at the thought.
“We never went on a cruise before! I’m almost jealous of her right now! All I can have with you are short trips to a nearby motel. But admit it, I’m the hotter one!” Trisha teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“No point denying that!” Dan said, leaning in to kiss her.
“I couldn’t live with the thought that someone else was hotter than me!” Trisha murmured against his lips, her voice filled with playful defiance.

Stopping by a pub on the way to the motel, Dan commented, “It’s so weird. I know it’s still you in there, Lauren, but sometimes I forget and think of you as Trisha!”
“I am Trisha!” the sexy Indian replied, unbuttoning her blouse a bit. “This is not an act anymore. These mannerisms and personality traits come naturally to me. I don’t really see myself as Lauren anymore.”
“And do you like it?”
“I love it. I was just so boring before,” she said, drinking some wine. “I was a basic white girl. It’s weird even thinking about it now. When I met Trisha, I understood why you got bored of me. She had so much rizz. I was so envious of her… If you had to have an affair with Trisha, I wanted to be the one and only Trisha.”
“Trisha, listen, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Trisha slowly turned around him, without loosing her cool.
“I have been talking with… Lauren a lot… What we did to her has been unfair…”

“What you did to me was unfair in the first place.”
“I know. But she didn’t have any guilt in this.”
“She was having an affair with you behind my back.”
“True, but she told me she needed something in exchange for the life we stole from her.”
“Ok?”
“She wants us to marry. Soon.”
Trisha felt a pang of jealousy. She drank some wine to hide her reaction. “Like how soon?”
“Later this year.”
“So you’re really settling down with that blonde bore. But I know you very well. This will further cool things off, and you’ll always come back to me. It’ll be even hotter to have an affair as a married man!” She lay down, closer to him, highlighting her busty figure.
“Trisha…” Dan said, “I’ve matured, I’m not only after pleasure anymore. I’ve come to realize that having a stable relationship means much more to me.”

Trisha’s smile vanished. “It’s okay, I always knew this could happen. That’s what made it exciting, right? I always knew either of us could lose and it looks like Lauren has won.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to. But we still have a few months before you get married, and I want to live them to the fullest, knowing we will soon put an end to this affair…”
Dan sighed. “Okay.”
Once at the motel, Trisha turned around and faced Dan. “You know what, deep down I’m happy it is ending like this. She is the better one and I’m glad you’ll get to marry her.”
Dan looked at her, surprised. “You really think so?”
Trisha nodded, a sad smile playing on her lips. “Yes, I do. She deserves you, and you deserve a stable, loving relationship. It’s time for you to have something real.”
Dan stepped closer, taking her hands in his. “You’ve been more than just a fling, Trisha. You’ve been important to me.”
“I know,” Trisha replied softly. “And that’s why I want to make these last few months unforgettable.”

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THE END
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It was Danny and Lauren’s second anniversary, and their relationship had settled into a comfortable routine. While Danny deeply loved Lauren, he found himself increasingly captivated by the idea of an affair with a particularly alluring colleague from the office. Eventually the two made out and they started spending evenings together after work. Wanting to live out his fantasy with Lauren, Danny hatched a bold plan: he would have Lauren wear a bodysuit that resembled his colleague for one of their dates.
“A bodysuit, you say?” – Lauren asked, skeptical but vaguely intrigued. “So your idea is for me to wear this on our date?”
“It’s much more than that! It’s a synthetic skin, it looks and feels absolutely like the real thing! But yeah, last year we did what you wanted on our anniversary, it’s only fair I decide this year!”
“Sounds like a sales pitch! It’s kinda dark coloured, are you sure this is the one you meant to order?”
“Ehm, yes, it’s right. You’ll look like an Indian woman with it on.” Danny said, thinking at him much the custom bodysuit had costed him.
“Your idea of a romantic anniversary date is going out with me looking like an Indian woman? Kinky!” Lauren teased, a playful smile forming on her lips.

Lauren took the skin suit out of the box. It came with a realistic black wig attached and a set of brown color contacts. “I need to try this on!”
She went into her room, put on the lenses first, just in case she lost sensitivity in her fingers with the suit on, and then took off her clothes. Carefully, she began to put on the skin suit. There was an opening in the back, so she started with her legs, then her torso, arms, chest, and finally the head. It adapted surprising well to her own body, including around her pubic area. It felt incredibly realistic, though a bit loose in the back as it wasn’t zipped yet. The skin was light brown and beautiful, without a hint of rubber-like texture. She looked like a very tanned version of herself, from what she could see. The hair appearing at the corner of her eyesight added to the feeling of strangeness. She tried to reach for the zipper to lock herself in but she couldn’t.
“Oh God, it’s so hard to reach… Dan, help me out, but wait, I’ll get dressed first,” she called, putting on the first sweater.
“Hey, won’t you let me see your bare body before?” Danny teased, a playful smirk on his face.

“No, I’m a stranger now, it would be weird,” Lauren replied, her voice slightly altered by the suit. She left the bedroom, fully dressed, and turned around to show Dan the zipper.
Dan, thrilled to see an Indian girl resembling his colleague instead of the usual white girl he had grown accustomed to, helped her by grabbing the zipper, and gently pulling up, until Lauren’s pale skin completely disappeared under the synthetic skin. She looked incredible.
“So, how do I look? Weird? I haven’t checked myself in the mirror yet,” Lauren asked, curious and still a bit skeptical, turning her head gently back, her raven black hair elegantly following the movement.
“You look incredible,” Dan replied, his voice filled with awe. “I wouldn’t believe you were anything other than an Indian young woman if it wasn’t for your voice.”
“Oh come on, I’m sure it’s not like that.” – Lauren replied, thrilled herself to see herself like that.
“See for yourself!” – said Dan and took her in front of a mirror.

“Holy shit! Who is this woman? I look like a new person!” she exclaimed, touching her realistic silky black hair and gently touching her neck.
Her facial features were exquisite and typically Indian. Her Caucasian features were completely invisible under the skin suit. Fuller lips, a different nose shape gave her an exotic allure.
Dan marveled at the transformation, unable to believe his eyes. “You’re stunning, Lauren. It’s like you’ve become an entirely different person.”
Lauren turned to the mirror, studying her reflection. “This is so weird! The suit feels so natural, like it’s a part of me. I look… beautiful, I guess, it you are into Indian women!”
Dan smiled, stepping closer to her. “You always look beautiful, but this… this is something else. Are you ready for our date?”
Lauren nodded, a newfound confidence in her eyes. “Yes, let’s do this. Let’s make this night unforgettable.” She put on an elegant black dress, perfectly hiding the zipper on her back.

“I see you made me a little more endowed when it comes to curves. I can’t blame you, I’m as flat as an ironing board, haha!”
“Guilty as charged.”
“So, is that what you are into? Indian women with brown skin, silky black hair, and round breasts?”
“Well, it’s just a fantasy but… yes!”
“No judgment, but that comes as a surprise! I would have never thought you were into this. Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m all yours, just for tonight!”
Dan’s eyes sparkled with excitement and gratitude. “Thank you, Lauren. This means a lot to me.”
“Oh, I don’t look like a Lauren anymore… Why don’t you call me…”
“Trisha!” Dan blurted out, inadvertently saying the name of his crush.
“Oh, you had a name in mind already… Ok, Trisha it is then,” Lauren said with a playful smile.
Dan blushed slightly but grinned back at her. “Trisha, you look absolutely stunning.”

Dan and Lauren drove out of town, their nerves palpable as they navigated the winding roads to a fancy Indian restaurant far from familiar faces. As they arrived at the restaurant, they were seated in a cozy corner booth, partially hidden from the rest of the diners, which provided a sense of privacy amidst their daring escapade. Throughout the meal, they exchanged glances, their excitement building with each passing moment. After dinner, feeling exhilarated and daring, they decided to continue their night at a nearby club. The pulsating beat of the music and the vibrant energy of the crowd beckoned them onto the dance floor. Lauren, fully embracing her new identity, felt an overwhelming sense of liberation. She danced with abandon, her body moving freely to the rhythm, no longer constrained by the expectations of her old self.
Dan watched in awe as Lauren transformed before his eyes. She was radiant, her movements graceful and fluid, her laughter infectious. They danced together, losing themselves in the music and the moment, surrounded by strangers who only saw a couple enjoying the night.
Lauren felt a newfound sense of empowerment. In her new skin, she was bold, unafraid, and completely free. The constraints of her previous identity melted away, leaving her to revel in the freedom of the present. The thrill of the transformation, combined with the intoxicating atmosphere of the club, created an unforgettable night.

As the night drew to a close, they returned to their car, breathless and exhilarated. Lauren leaned back in her seat, a contented smile playing on her lips, feeling more alive than she had in years. Dan glanced over at her. “Tonight was incredible,” he said softly.“It’s not over actually!” Lauren replied with a hint of mischief. “Would you be okay… doing it in the suit?”. Dan asked. “Why not? That was your goal From the beginning, right? Sleeping with a hot Indian girl?”
They decided to spend the night in a hotel instead of going home, to make things more exciting. Once in the room, Lauren took off her dress and jumped onto the bed, her eyes gleaming with playful seduction. “Take me, fuck me like there’s no tomorrow because soon I’ll be gone and your basic white bitch girlfriend will be back!”
“That’s so hot! I love it when you’re into character. Go on, Trisha!”
“Of course, sweetie! I’m so much better than that blonde bore! Don’t worry, though, your little escapade will stay a secret, that dumb bitch will never know about us,” she said, fully immersing herself in the role.
Dan, driven by the intense allure of the moment, joined her on the bed. They lost themselves in a whirlwind of passion, the boundaries of reality and fantasy blurring as they indulged in their wildest desires. The experience was electrifying, pushing them to new heights of intimacy and connection.

The following morning, Lauren woke up to the unfamiliar sight of her brown arms draped around Dan’s shoulders. “Okay, this has been fun while it lasted. Time to go back to my basic white bitch self,” she told Dan.
Suppressing his own feelings, Dan nodded and asked her to turn around so he could help unzip the skin suit. To his shock and excitement, her skin was seamless and natural, without a hint of a zipper.
“What’s taking so long?” the Indian-looking woman asked, sensing the tension in him.
“Lauren,” he began, his serious tone and using her real name agitating her, “the zipper… is gone! I don’t know how to take this off!”
“Come on, don’t joke about this. The zipper has to be there! It’s not funny!” Lauren replied, feeling her back with her own hands. “Oh shit!” she screamed, realizing she couldn’t find any seam herself. “Oh no! No no no! This can’t be!” she screamed, frantically checking her back in a mirror. “No! This is not my body!” she cried out, desperately trying to convince her brain, which was already adapting its self-image to that of the young woman she had been for nearly a day.

END OF PART 1

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Kyleigh was the daughter of a very conservative US couple from Alabama. They were a poorly educated, lower-middle class family, where the father has a blue collar job, the mother was a housewife and Kyleigh was a college student with occasional seasonal jobs as a waitress. When trumpism became popular, they enthusiastically adhered to it and always made sure to make their views public. They were particularly vocal about their disdain for Latin American immigrants, who were flooding the country with their foreign influence, turning the American nation into an even more multicultural society.
Eventually, Kyleigh’s father, David, went a bit overboard with his xenophobic views even talking about them at the workplace, which resulted in an argument with his boss, a mixed Mexican American man and a registered Democratic. As a punishment, David was transferred to a new branch of the same company opening in New Mexico. Being the breadwinner of the family, he couldn’t afford to lose his job, and being middle-aged and poorly educated, he had little chances of finding a new one anytime soon, so the whole family was forced to relocate to New Mexico.

Kyleigh felt a lot lonely being one of the few white girls in the area, even worse being the only MAGA supporter in her age group.
The whole family didn’t really like their neighbourhood, crowded as it was with Latinos and African Americans. Even the local TV news were bilingual Spanish-English and many of the TV channels they got were Mexican anyway. Oddly enough, however, they got used to the narco-culture aesthetics surrounding them and began to change themselves.

Kyleigh herself began being fascinated by the sheer beauty of Latinas and began adapting her style to that narco beauty she was starting to admire in order to be more popular with the boys. She began by tanning in the hot New Mexico sun and dying her blonde hair black. She picked up some Spanglish words from her new friends and slipped more and more into the local culture. She also switched her major from nursery to Spanish literature, which was a pretty popular choice in the local campus.
Her mum began learning Mexican food recipes and soon enough tacos and burritos became an integral part of they diet. Her dad David also began adapting to the local customs and eventually learned he could round up his salary by becoming a drug dealer.
Kyleigh became quickly popular with the boys and even began dating Latinos, who she had to admit were very passionate lovers.
When she met Juan, son of his father’s new buddy from his drug dealing businesses, something more serious began. She really liked the guy. Unfortunately for her, he already had a girlfriend, a pretty Hispanic girl named Cristina and made it clear that she was more like his type than Kyleigh. The girl didn’t give up and began planning her strategy to win his heart.

Encouraged by her mum, who suggested that “a good healthy tan goes a long way” and that she needed to beat this latina girl in her own strengths, she decided to alter her appearance to match Juan’s taste in women.
With the savings she had from a lowly-paid waitress job in a taco restaurant, all she could afford was a trip to a cheap cosmetic surgeon across the border in Mexico, where she got lip injections to make them big and thick lips, permanent brown color contacts attached to her irises and some minor touches to her face to look hotter and more exotic, hoping to steal Juan from his girlfriend.
She underwent multiple tanning sessions to accelerate the natural tanning process at those low latitudes and made sure to dress in a revealing way to show off her tanned body.

When she came back a few weeks later, her parents themselves struggled to recognise her. They commented positively on her changed appearance and welcomed her decision when Kyleigh asked to be called Camila from that day on.
The next time she saw Juan with Cristina she shamelessly flirted with him to the point that the poor guy couldn’t hide a hard-on in presence of his girlfriend. Camila and Juan soon started dating and Juan eventually left his girlfriend to be together with Camila. Her family welcomed Juan as part of the family and his family did the same with Camila. This made their fathers even closer crime associates and further improved his illegal earnings, until he decided to resign from his boring, blue-collar job and be a full-time drug dealer. Camila in the meanwhile dropped off from college and became a full-time waitress in a taco restaurant.
After less than a year Camila’s family had happily readjusted to the new cultural environment and wouldn’t trade their current life with their old one for anything.

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Rushing through the airport, Jessica, now Jamila found the first flight departing from the Dubai airport hub, luckily a flight by the company she works for. Without even checking its destination, she embarked and managed to escape from the airport police.
During the flight, she learned she was flying to Lagos, Nigeria. In order to escape from possible airport controls and to be less recognisable, before landing she changed her uniform for a traditional Muslim dress covering her hair and opted to disembark disguised as a private citizen landing there. Her fake ID still worked so she managed to leave the airport without any problems.
She settled for a cheap airport and took some time to rest to recover energies after the stressful escape from Dubai, still with her headscarf on.
Before falling asleep, she wondered about what to do next but no clear path is clear to her.

Jamila woke up several hours later. When she finally took the veil off her hair, she realized something was off with her hair’s texture. She tried to wash it and apply conditioner but her once straight hair seemed to have gained a very persistent curly texture. Taking a minute to check herself in a mirror, she noticed her skin had also darkened slightly and even her facial features had lost some eastern traits to gain an unmistakable partial African heritage. Jamila then realised what was happening to her and that it was only a matter of time before the turned fully African. She also realised that her only chance to escape from this destiny would be to leave Africa as quickly as possible but with her fake ID she would be easily caught and anyway her facial features would soon be too different from those of Jamila Bakir.
Strangely enough, the blonde American had grown quite attached to her new Middle Eastern features, while it would take some time getting used to what this weird curse had stored for her.

Before long, the metamorphosis was complete and Jessica/Jamila had gained all the physical traits of a sub-Saharan girl: plump lips, broad nose, kinky hair and dark brown skin.
She was initially taken aback by the sudden change. She had always been open minded but growing up in a rural area, she had always had the idea that Black people were somehow different so now having a Black girl’s body for the foreseeable future was something she was struggling to deal with.
However, she realized she had still plenty of savings from her previous job that would cover her expenses for a while in Nigeria.
She left her hotel room unnoticed and found a shady office that made fake ID. She explained she was coming from a neighbouring country and needed an ID to work there. She even let them pick up a name for her, they picked Jumai.

Jumai, as she learned to introduce herself, quickly realized she could have a good time there with her beauty and wealth so she enjoyed the local nightlife for a few weeks. She was highly popular with the local men and her flawless American accent made her even more intriguing as people assumed she was an African-American girl visiting Nigeria, which was close to true in a certain sense.
Jumai enjoyed this lavish lifestyle without really thinking of her perspectives, stuck as she was. Navigating the local job market to find occasions to flee the country was hard and risking to be found with a fake ID boarding on a plane was too much of a risk, she really didn’t want to find out how local jails were.
So she kept living a good life until her savings became only sufficient to cover a couple more weeks. Then she decided her only chance was to find herself a wealthy man who would take care of her. So one night she hooked up with…

End of part 2

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