“Hello?” You hear your father’s voice, completing the second part of your plan.
“Mr. Anderson?” you reply as Ashley, wearing a sports bra and high cuts. “Am I talking to David Anderson’s father?”
“Yes, yes. Paul Anderson. How may I help you?”
“I just wanted to apologize on David’s behalf for what happened yesterday. He told me you reprimanded him for his tardiness.”
“I assume you’re Ashley Wright, then?” You consent with a hum, almost holding your laughter. “I see. Listen – I didn’t exactly punish him. My wife and I were just worried about where he was, since he’s usually back around dinnertime. I simply reminded him about it.”
“I see...” That sounds about right, you reckon. “Still - I kept him occupied for so long that he lost all notion of time. He feared you’d do something about it, and today he said it wasn’t so bad, but it didn’t seem like it.”
“Rest assured, miss – he won’t be punished as long as we know where he is.”
“Excellent! Speaking of David – I asked him to come today to keep an eye on my house while I check on my neighbor. He told me you live close – you know of someone named Helen Morris?”
“No,” your father affirms. “Doesn’t sound like someone I’d know.”
“How about Jeremiah Morris, her late husband?”
“No... Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I see. You see, I’ve helped taken care of Mrs. Morris, and there have been rumors of someone marauding around. Just so you know,” you quickly add, “the suspect has been caught, but while that happened, I asked your son to keep an eye on my house, and I figured he could help me keep an eye on the house while that happens.”
“If it’s that,” your father claims, “then I have no issues with it. Just tell him I want him home by dinner.”
“He told me he’ll call if something else happens. And he asked me if he could do his homework here,” you add to sweeten the deal, since – you figured – you could do your homework a lot better without your family’s distractions. (Not that they distract you too much, though.)
“Excellent! Thank you for calling, Miss Wright. Have a nice day.”
“You too!” you say in a genteel tone, adding a bit of extra charm. “Please say ‘hi’ and extend my apologies to your wife as well.”
“I will, miss. Goodbye.”
As your father hangs the call, you jitter with excitement. Aside from someone who knows her well, no one can really suspect you’re not Ashley Delilah Wright, a hot sexy blonde in her early thirties living for herself in a rented house.
A lonely house that’s all for yourself, for the time being. It was exhilarating to put her on again, to feel your legs disappear into hers, to squeeze those juicy breasts once more and to pose before the mirror. For the next few hours – eight, you gauge – Ashley Wright’s life is all yours.
Though, of course, some of them will have to be spent with Helen Morris. You need to keep appearances, after all.
--
And that is how you’ve spent four of the past five days – slipping in as Ashley, keeping an eye on Helen, learning a bit more about Edna Wulff and her husband Gerald Wulff, and exploring the life of an adult woman. The one day you skipped was Tuesday, as Jessica questioned why you were so distant recently and decided to spend the day with her. (And you still haven’t scored with her, but the cuddling and kissing was so effusive that it paid off.)
Every day, you stop briefly by your house to tell your mother you’re visiting Ashley, and after the obvious warning (“be back home for dinner!”), you rush straight into her house. Edna and Mr. Ferrell intercepted you once each, and you told them you’d be keeping an eye on her house while she visits Mrs. Morris, which they each take their own way. (Mr. Ferrell does wink at you, suggesting you might be doing it for another reason, while Edna – to which you introduce yourself – takes it with disgust.)
Then, you find some respectable clothes to wear – something to cover your lovely new cleavage and curves – and visit Helen for about three to four hours. You act the part of a nurse, companion and (sometimes) chef, the latter not as successful as the former two. You have to help her bathe, allowing you to take a(n unfortunate) peek at the old woman’s body in the nude, but it’s not that much since she has a seat in her shower, and she can bathe on her own thanks to an extending showerhead. She also gets lunches delivered to her home, though you had to remind the deliverer that Helen is diabetic, since her meals have a lot of carbohydrates. (You may be no nurse, and you may be no chef, but at least you know some basics about health.)
That makes you wonder. How much do you change when you put on a skin? Do your innards replace them, or do they fuse with yours? The change in food must have happened a couple months ago – four, at most, since that was how long since Helen was turned into a skin – and while there are insulin pens nearby, you don’t know if the creep used them. Will you feel a woman’s period if you wear the skin for too long? After all, judging by your... exploration, you seem to have a vagina while wearing her. Maybe it’s superficial?
Then, after that, comes your “free” time. You try to finish your homework as quickly as possible, so you can spend the most of your time playing with her body. You discreetly took the dildo on Helen’s house on Sunday and cleaned it with some bleach and soap, and it wasn’t until Wednesday before you used it on yourself. (And oh, what a delight!)
Finally, as you strip away from her, you do the same thing you’ve done these days. You fill up her head with something, then set her up as if she was sleeping. You’ve even taken to prepare her outfit for the next day, down to the underwear.
There’s one thing that has made you consider waking her up at some point. Your dad – of all people – has mentioned someone at his work (from another department) has been skipping work, and over the course of the week, you’ve received calls you’ve ignored. By Wednesday, he asks about Ashley, and mentions she seems to be the one skipping work. You don’t mind the fun, but if it ruins her life, then it’s not fun anymore, right?
--
But it’s Saturday when things really change around. You’re preparing yourself for the day when someone calls at the door. Unlike Edna, she insists, and though you dress up as quickly as possible, it still takes some time.
As you open, the woman before you slips in, kissing you in the cheek. “Ash! It’s been some time...”
You can easily see the resemblance. Her hair has the same color as yours – well, Ashley’s - and the same face shape, but she’s smaller and younger. She’s got some big breasts as well, though obviously smaller than yours, and she’s slimmer and less curvy. She’s dressed in an outfit that wouldn’t be out of place on your sister Tina, with a sleeveless tank top with bare midriff and tight jeans that leave nothing to the imagination.
“Uh...” You step aside, letting her in. “Hey.”
“Jesus!” she exclaims as she sees your house. “This place’s nice.” She leaps to your – well, Ashley’s - couch and smiles cockily at you. “So, this is where you take your flings?”
You suspect she must be one of Ashley’s sisters – she does give that “annoying little sister” vibe – but you’re caught wrongfooted. You try to quell her, invoking your big brother instincts. “Of course not. By the by, you could’ve called.”
“But I did call! Figured you’d be entertained...” She steps up, owning the place, then raids your – Ashley's – fridge. “No booze? God, I need a beer.”
She doesn’t seem your age – she looks about the same age as Tina – but judging by the fact that Ashley doesn’t seem to drink, something seems off. You call her out, judging her reaction. “Since when do you drink?”
“Since when you don’t?” She’s not afraid to act flirty, owing by how she shakes her ass on you. That acts as your first warning that something’s off, because neither Tina nor Claire behave that way with you. “C’mon, Ashley. Not even a bottle of wine?”
You start looking for anything to defend yourself while trying to act casual. “Not on weekdays. Plus, the rent’s expensive – got to pay the bills first, then have fun.”
“Shame...” She wraps her arm behind you, jerking her chin. “Not gonna show me your place? Feels awfully big for just one woman.” She giggles, almost as if taunting you. “Hey, I could ask Mom if I can move here! It’s far away from college, but maybe I’ll plan on dropping out.”
You feel she’s trying to push you – trying to get behind my back? - but you intercept her. “How about you go first? My room’s the one that’s open, obviously.”
You’ve taken to hide your clothes well, in case someone gets in, but you left the pen inside. You’ll have to gauge carefully if you want to knock her out – in case your suspicions are true.
But if she’s the real deal... Wouldn’t doing so ruin Ashley’s life? (More than you are doing so already?)
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