Warning: I guess some slight body horror but other than that no AI in writting so if I make a mistake plz dont look too much into it.
The life of an office worker was not the most eventful thing in life, Dave knew that as much. Even his name seemed to confirm it—Dave, short, plain, and painfully ordinary, the sort of name that belonged to a hundred middle-aged men in identical shirts sitting beneath identical fluorescent lights. It was safe, familiar, and insignificant, much like the life he had been pushed into. Still, being an engineer was not all bad. His days were steady, filled with difficult problems that eventually gave way to patience and logic, and there was a quiet satisfaction in watching something he had designed finally work. The pay was decent, his colleagues were kind, and his family was supportive - well mostly since he came out as Bi, they still held on to the hope he would swing “the right way”.
Yet already in his forties, and when he looked at himself honestly, he could not help feeling that life had passed him by. He was not particularly handsome, with thinning hair, tired eyes, and a face made dull by years beneath fluorescent office lights. He was still single, lived alone, and had little waiting for him at home beyond reheated dinners and the low murmur of the television. Sometimes, he would notice the younger men passing through the office or laughing together outside—confident, sharply dressed, and effortlessly handsome—and feel a quiet ache of envy. Looking at them, Dave often wondered whether he might once have become someone like that, had he not been pushed so early into a safe and ordinary life chosen more by expectation than desire. He did not hate what he had, but he could not stop mourning the person he might have been. Whenever he looked through the window at the city moving beyond the glass, he felt that his real life was happening somewhere just out of reach. Dave wanted more—a little adventure, a stronger sense of confidence, and perhaps a chance for a prettier view..
And then, at last, the prettier view arrived.
Her name was Sadaki, and Dave noticed her the moment she entered the office. She was strikingly beautiful, polished and graceful enough to draw attention without asking for it. Unfortunately, beauty was almost all there was to her. She was vain, dismissive, and casually cruel, ignoring Dave unless she needed something from him and speaking to him as though even that brief attention were a favor.
Though she joined the company as an intern, Sadaki climbed into junior management with suspicious speed. The reason was obvious. She had quickly attached herself to the company’s newest rising star: Hernando Saionji, the CEO’s son, recently returned from studying overseas. He was young, broad-shouldered, sharp-featured, and effortlessly handsome, but beauty was almost all there was to him as well. Like Sadaki, he was arrogant, shallow, and cold, treating anyone beneath him as though they were hardly worth noticing.
Sadaki followed Hernando everywhere, laughing at his jokes, praising his ideas, and making herself impossible for him to overlook. He accepted her admiration as naturally as he accepted every other advantage in his life. Together, they made a beautiful pair, and beauty seemed to be the only worthwhile thing either of them possessed. Watching them, Dave felt the old bitterness return. Some people were born with the right face and the right connections, while others spent their lives working for people who would never bother to remember their names.
So Dave began to wonder: if beauty truly was only skin-deep, and if the right appearance was all a person needed to move through life with ease, then what would happen if he could wear Hernando’s skin? He imagined it like slipping into a cold, wet skinsuit—first sliding his hands and feet into it, then slowly pulling the smooth, elastic body over his own until every inch clung tightly around him. The handsome face would come last, hanging loose and empty before he stretched it over his head, drawing Hernando’s sharp features across his own and aligning the eyes and mouth until the disguise settled perfectly into place. Would people finally look at Dave instead of through him? Would doors open, voices soften, and admiration come without effort? The thought was absurd, impossible—and yet once the idea entered his mind, he could not force it out.
A dark reckoning began to take shape in Dave’s mind. This was not some story from one of those strange sites he visited late at night—there would be no enchanted needle to hollow him out, no magical dagger that conveniently opened a seam along Hernando’s back. No miracle would simply hand him another man’s life.
This would require planning, patience, and calculation..
If Dave truly meant to become Hernando Saionji, then wearing his face would never be enough. He would have to study the way Hernando walked, the way he spoke, the careless tilt of his smile, the names he remembered and the people he ignored. Every habit, every secret, every private detail would have to become Dave’s as well. The disguise could not merely look flawless from the outside; it had to survive every glance, every conversation, every moment when someone expected Hernando to be standing before them. Dave would need to become him completely—inside and out.
For two years, Dave stayed close to Hernando and learned from him in silence. He swallowed every insult, smiled when he wanted to sneer, and let Hernando mistake obedience for devotion. He studied the effortless charm that made people lean toward him—the warm flash of his smile, the lazy confidence in his voice, and the way he always left the top two buttons of his dark shirts undone, the fabric pulling tight across his broad chest as though barely resisting the strain. Dave memorized the rhythm of his laugh, the way he entered a room as though it already belonged to him, and every small, practiced gesture that turned beauty into influence. Hernando never noticed that Dave was not merely admiring him. Piece by piece, he was learning how to wear everything that made Hernando irresistibly charming.
Then the time to reap his reward finally came..
Hernando was attending another of those glittering parties held high above the city, surrounded by champagne, tailored suits, and people who laughed too eagerly whenever he spoke. Dave moved among them disguised as one of the serving staff, his posture lowered and his expression arranged into the blank politeness expected of someone meant to remain invisible. After two years of watching Hernando, slipping unnoticed into the background had become second nature.
“Another drink, sir?” Dave asked, offering him the tray.
Hernando took a glass without properly looking at him. “Obviously. And make sure it’s cold this time.”
“Of course, Mr. Saionji.”
Dave watched him drink before disappearing into the crowd. It was not long before Hernando’s easy smile began to slip. His fingers tightened around the edge of a table, and he blinked repeatedly as the lights above him blurred.
“What the hell was in that?” he muttered.
Dave appeared beside him just as his balance failed.
“You look unwell, sir. There’s somewhere private upstairs.”
Hernando tried to shove him away, but there was little strength behind it. Dave caught him beneath the arm and guided him toward the private elevator, calmly explaining to anyone who noticed that the CEO’s son had simply drunk too much. No one questioned him. Men like Hernando were always being carried, protected, and quietly excused.
Dave took him to one of the penthouse rooms above the party and lowered him onto the bed. By then, Hernando was drenched in sweat. His breathing came in short, uneven bursts, and an unnatural heat had spread through his body as though he were burning from somewhere deep inside. The fine clothes clung to his skin, outlining the powerful frame beneath them.
Then Hernando finally opened his eyes, confusion lasted only until he recognized the man standing over him.
“You?” he rasped, struggling to rise before another wave of heat forced him back down. “What did you do to me?”
Hernando’s face twisted with disgust. “You disgusting faggot. Do you have any idea who I am? You’re finished!”
Dave sighed, almost as though the insult had merely confirmed what he already knew about him. Then a slow smile appeared on his face.
“Well,” he said, “I’m not finished with you yet.”
“The solution in your drink was designed to loosen the skin from your form,” Dave continued, his voice unnervingly calm.
Hernando watched in horror as Dave reached beneath the waiter’s coat and drew out a knife, turning it casually in his hand until the blade caught the light.
“And this,” Dave said, watching the fear finally enter Hernando’s eyes, “is for the separation.”
Whatever horror followed was lost beneath the music below. Hernando’s screams rose only briefly before the party swallowed them whole—buried beneath laughter, bass, and the clinking of champagne glasses. By the time the last guests began to leave, Dave had already cleaned the penthouse with methodical care, wiping away every trace that anything had happened there. Only the bathroom remained untouched. In the center of the vast marble room, the king-sized tub had been filled with a pale, chemical solution. Floating within it was the translucent shape that had once belonged to Hernando, emptied and strangely delicate, its handsome features drifting just beneath the surface. The liquid slowly thickened around it, preserving every curve and detail as it solidified. Dave stood beside the tub in silence, watching the skin become firm enough to wear.
Dave undressed and stood before the bathroom mirror. Under the harsh white light, every disappointment seemed sharper: thinning hair, tired eyes, sloping shoulders, a soft middle, and pale skin marked by age and years spent beneath office lights. His body looked small and ordinary, worn down by a life that had demanded everything from him while offering little in return. His gaze travelled downward, lingering on the intimate imperfections - his small dark manhood he had always tried not to think about, before shifting toward the bath. Hernando’s translucent skin floated beneath the thickening solution, broad shoulders and sculpted proportions preserved with almost insulting perfection. Even emptied, it appeared younger, stronger, and more complete than Dave had ever felt. Every detail remained intact, waiting to be inhabited. Dave looked between his reflection and the shape in the tub, then smiled faintly. Soon, he would never have to see the man in the mirror again.
Dave lifted the preserved skin from the bath. It hung from his hands like a translucent imitation of a man, cold and heavy with solution, its features slack except for the mouth, which gaped far wider than any human mouth should. There was no seam along the back, no convenient opening hidden beneath the hair. Hernando’s mouth was the only entrance. Dave placed both hands between the soft lips and pulled. The jaw stretched soundlessly, widening until the handsome face became a grotesque ring of skin and teethless darkness. He pushed one foot through, then the other, forcing his legs down into the hollow body. The material clung to him at once, slick and resistant, as though it resented being filled by someone so different from the shape it remembered.
The sight in the mirror was unbearable. Dave’s thick, aging body writhed beneath Hernando’s flawless exterior, creating a distorted parody of both men. His stomach bulged beneath the narrow waist; his knees bent in the wrong places inside the longer legs; sculpted muscles twisted and swelled as he searched for their proper spaces. Hernando’s empty arms flailed while Dave struggled to reach the waiting hands, and the beautiful face stretched around his waist like some monstrous collar.
He kept pushing. His torso disappeared through the distended mouth, forcing Hernando’s face wider until the cheeks and jaw lost all recognizable shape. For several moments, it looked as though the perfect young man had swallowed something too large and was choking upon it, his body bucking and rippling around the heavier figure trapped inside. Then Dave found the arms. He drove his hands through the narrow sleeves until his fingers filled Hernando’s, and the warped shoulders snapped gradually into place. The borrowed skin tightened around him, compressing his softer shape and drawing it into the proportions it had once possessed. The swollen abdomen flattened. The uneven limbs lengthened. Smooth muscle re-formed over the body as each distortion vanished beneath the settling surface.
Dave pushed upward through the throat until his skull entered the hollow face. Hernando’s mouth stretched over his chin, then slid downward into position as Dave pressed his nose and eyes against their waiting places. The loose features shifted over him, first grotesque and crooked, then slowly aligning. The lips contracted around his own. The jaw regained its sharp shape. Dark hair settled across his scalp as the last traces of translucence faded.
Dave stood motionless before the mirror while the surface finished tightening.
A moment earlier, it had resembled a malformed creature struggling beneath a beautiful man’s skin.
Now there was no sign of Dave at all.
Hernando Saionji stared back at him.
He trailed his hands over his newly acquired body, tracing line and vein over the flawless skin that is now his. Drowning in the bliss and pleasure, Dave trailed his hands downward to his stolen cock, his breathing fastened, … and all came to a complete stop. Instead of getting to hold his new fresh pale clean meat, he was rewarded with an unworn empty sack. Confusion washed over him until he noticed..
Beneath the smooth skin of Hernando’s abdomen, instead of perfectly defined muscle, an unnatural ridge pressed upward, trapped awkwardly between his old body and the new shape surrounding it. looked warped there, twitching faintly as the borrowed skin struggled to draw everything into its proper place. Dave pressed his index finger on the tip of the stretching shaft and a violent shock tore through him, buckling his knees and sending him crashing against the counter. His borrowed body convulsed, every muscle tightening at once as heat surged beneath the skin like fire.
The fever climbed rapidly. Hernando’s skin rippled over him, tightening in some places and peeling away in others, as though it had finally recognized the stranger trapped inside. Dark veins briefly surfaced across the flawless chest before vanishing again. Dave clawed at the marble, struggling to remain upright while the face in the mirror twisted between his own features and Hernando’s.
The skin was rejecting him.
Carefully, Dave dragged himself out of the bathroom and onto a couch, getting himself into his most comfortable position when he needed to pleasure himself. In a haze, with hands oiled with his sweat, he pushed his own thick cock under the skin towards the empty hollowed cock. A condom, Dave thought, was what it looked like without anything to fill it, so it should act the same way. So he pushed hard, as his old cock slid behind the surface of the skin, till it plopped itself behind the hole. As Dave traced the skin of the hollow shaft from Hernando’s cock over his own, he realized with horror that even though the cock sleeve was at its end, the old cock had not even finished going in yet. With nothing else he could do, Dave let go of his hand and surrendered to fate.
The more his own cock slid in, it gave him an equal part and pain and pleasure: Hernando’s shaft rose above its own size, and the skin stretched thin to its limit, till it thinned out and he could see his old cock silhouette, twitching and squirming underneath. Dark and horrible fantasy plundered his own mind.
“Oh hahhhhh, please, my body was invaded by Dave and my skin was being worn by him. Now my skin and seeds are all his..!” Hernando’s voice squealed and moaned echoed across the room.
There was pain and pleasure, then there came darkness and bliss. The cock sleeve and his own warped itself and bonded as one, and as his tips finally lined up in sync with Hernando’s, he could feel a twitching wave crashing from the back of his mind, ripped through his whole being and flushed out through his cock. Mouth- opening, breath-heaving, hand-gripping tightly onto the couch, the fluid came out unnaturally dense, stretching in pale, sticky strands that clung to the skin instead of running, as though it had already begun to set.
Under the bliss and sound of this bustling city, a new life was born, not from love, but from ambition and twisted fascination.
“Hernando, Hernando, Hernando,..” Dave chanted his name, as though it was a spell, bounding his soul to this husk till the end of day. As he traced skin and drew marks across the sweat, cum and blood, Dave scooped up a little residue left on his foreskin and brought it to his lips. It was bitter at first then changed over the new taste of mildly salty and wood, as though the life of an underappreciated engineer is slipping away and replaced by royalty and lavish lifestyle. “I will take good care of your life, Hernando. I will wear your skin, smile your smile, command the attention and no one will know!”
Afterward, “Hernando” showered, cleaned away the last traces of the night, and stretched out naked on the couch with a cold beer in hand. The air-conditioning cooled the fever still lingering beneath his skin, and in the dark reflection of the penthouse windows, he looked exactly as Hernando should have looked—young, powerful, and perfectly at home.
“Hernando?” Sadaki called from the hallway. “Are you in there?”
Before he could answer, the lock turned and she hurried inside, still dressed from the party.
“There you are,” she said, relief softening her face. “You disappeared without saying anything. I’ve been calling you all night.”
She rushed over and knelt beside him, pressing a hand to his forehead.
“God, you’re still burning up. What happened?”
“Hernando” took a slow drink and looked down at her with quiet disgust. This woman never cared about me this much in my old life, he thought. She barely noticed I existed. Now she was staring at him as though his slightest discomfort mattered more than anything else.
Sadaki hesitated beside the couch, still studying him with concern.
“I saw that older engineer near you earlier,” she said. “Dave. It looked like he handed you something. I thought he might have done something, and then you disappeared. I was worried sick.”
“Hernando” smiled faintly. So she had noticed Dave after all—only when he stood close enough to threaten someone she actually valued.
“Dave is gone,” he said calmly. “You won’t have to worry about him again.”
Something in his tone made Sadaki pause, but he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“You were worried about me?” he asked.
“And if I asked you to do something for me,” he continued, his smile sharpening, “you would do it, wouldn’t you?”
Sadaki beamed, then nodded.
“Hernando” leaned back against the couch, satisfied. For years she had treated Dave as though he were beneath notice. Now, wearing a handsome face, he barely had to ask before she offered him everything.
Sadaki stayed, and the night blurred into heat, tangled sheets, and breathless movement. “Hernando” held her close, but his attention kept drifting away from her and back toward himself. Each time her fingers dug too firmly into his back, the not-yet-settled skin shifted beneath them, pulling strangely across his shoulders and tugging at the edges of his face. He would pause, press his features back into place, and smile as though nothing had happened.
Sadaki seemed too overwhelmed to notice.
In the mirror beyond the bed, “Hernando” watched the borrowed body move—broad shoulders flexing, chest tightening, dark hair falling across that perfect face. As he planted a hand on top of his head and pulled the scalp backward as though adjusting a loose hood. The motion stretched his forehead smooth, drew the cheeks tight, and briefly widened the eyes into an unnatural stare and for a brief moment, he was Dave again. He held it there until the face settled properly over the shape beneath, then released it with a faint, wet snap and “Hernando” returned, pristine as ever. All the while running his hands possessively across the broad chest and sharp jaw, occasionally tugging the face loose simply to watch it distort before smoothing it back into perfection.
She believed his attention was fixed on her. In truth, he was barely aware she was there.
With the stamina of a stallion, “Hernando” went for quite a few rounds till he finally released his seeds inside Sadaki’s hungry hole. As he pulled his cock shaft out, he noticed that what remained carried the same unnatural thickness as the bonding compound from earlier—pale, heavy, and slow to separate, as though something of both men had been fused together within it. The thought of invading a noble bloodline brought him so much satisfaction that he ever thought it would.
Sadaki curled contentedly against his chest, tracing one finger across the smooth skin she believed she knew.
“Maybe this could finally become something real,” she murmured. “You and me. A future.”
“Hernando” wrapped an arm around her and smiled into the darkness. Beneath his palm, the borrowed chest rose and fell with perfect calm.
“Oh, you’ll have a future with me,” he whispered too softly for her to hear. “Just not the one you imagined.”
Sadaki soon fell asleep against him, trusting and content, while “Hernando” remained awake. He listened to her breathing and studied his reflection in the dark window. The face looking back was calm, handsome, and still faintly unreal—yet with every passing minute, it felt more like his own.
He touched the corner of his mouth, remembering how he had forced his entire body through that impossible opening. There had never been a seam to close. Hernando’s lips had simply contracted around his own once he was fully inside, restoring the sharp jaw and flawless face as though nothing had entered it at all. “Hernando” hooked a finger to his cheek and pulled experimentally. The skin stretched farther than it should have, briefly revealing the older shape hidden beneath, before snapping back into perfect alignment.
The fever was gone. The borrowed skin had stopped shifting, and even Hernando’s scent now seemed to rise naturally from him.
Sadaki stirred against his chest.
For the first time since the fever broke, “Hernando” felt cold. A thin line of sweat gathered at his temple as he looked down at her, searching her face for suspicion. Had his voice slipped? Had she noticed the way his skin moved, or how often he had stared at himself instead of her?
“Different how?” he asked, forcing Hernando’s usual lazy confidence into the words.
Sadaki opened her eyes just enough to smile. “Less distant. Like you finally know what you want.”
He held her gaze for another second before letting himself breathe again.
“Maybe I do,” he said softly.
She settled back against him, unaware of how tightly his hand had closed around the beer bottle.
By dawn, “Hernando” had made his decision. He would burn every bridge leading back to that tired engineer and settle completely into this new life—the penthouse, the company, the attention, the face people trusted before he even opened his mouth.
Yet he had not forgotten the older men from his department, the ones who had spent years being ignored just as he had. Perhaps, once his own position was secure, he could offer a few of them the same kind of rebirth: younger faces, stronger bodies, and a place among the beautiful people who had once looked through them. A new circle could be built inside the old one, populated by familiar minds hidden beneath flawless appearances.
“Hernando” smiled at the thought.
