“Honey, I’m home!” Clark calls out with a grin, kicking his shoes to the side of the door. He enjoys teasing his wife like that on occasion, as if they were a couple straight out of a 1950s-era television show.
When she doesn’t immediately reply with something sarcastic, he heads into the kitchen.
There, he finds his wife standing with a younger blonde, who’s wearing casual jeans and a hoodie. He recognizes her as a girl that lives with her parents a few houses down the road.
“Oh” Clark says. “I didn’t realize we had company!”
His wife Jennifer smiles. “Yes, welcome home, dear” she teases. “You remember Devon, don’t you?”
“Of course, it’s nice to see you” Clark replies, giving her a half wave. After a pause, he adds “you know, that was just a joke. I don’t normally announce myself like that…”
Devon laughs. “I had a feeling. I was like, are they that old-fashioned?” She replies, in a light, cheerful voice.
Clark smiles. “So, what’s up?” he asks, pouring himself a glass of water. It wasn’t very common for him to come home to find Jennifer hosting their neighbours.
“I ran into Devon earlier and found out that she’s living at home this semester” his wife explains. “She told me that she was looking for a way to earn a little extra money, and so I asked if she’d be interested in cleaning our house twice a week.”
Oh, awesome, Clark thinks. Even a grown man could hate chores with a passion.
“That sounds great!” He says. “Welcome to our humble home.”
“Thanks, Mr. Anderson!” Devon chirps. “I’m excited, actually. I used to clean houses on the weekends, but those were all such disasters. Yours is really nice!”
Jennifer smiles. “Thanks! But there’s no need to do the whole ‘Mr.’ and ’Mrs.’ thing.”
“Yeah, I already feel old enough not recognizing the logo on your sweatshirt” Clark agrees, gesturing with his hand.
She laughs again. “You shouldn’t feel bad. My boyfriend’s band made these for one of their concerts.” She grasps the bottom of her hoodie and stretches the material, flattening out the artwork.
“How supportive of you!” Jennifer says. “You’ll have some vintage merch when they eventually make it big.”
“And that’s very optimistic of you” Devon jokes. “But don’t tell him I said that.”
They make a little more casual conversation, figuring out the logistics of when Devon would come over to clean. Finally, Jennifer hands her a spare house key and they walk her to the door.
“Thanks again for the opportunity, Mrs.-…Jennifer!” Devon bubbles. “See you around, Clark!”
“For sure!” He replies. “Tell your parents we say hi.”
Devon leaves, and Jennifer closes the door behind her. “What a nice girl!” She hums.
“Yeah, definitely. I didn’t realize she was already in college. They grow up so fast!” He jokes, wiping a fake tear from his eye. He begins heading up the staircase, to change out of his work clothes
Jennifer laughs, following him. “It’s going to be so nice to have someone cleaning the house.”
“Definitely” he agrees. “And it’s great to have someone we know.”
They reach their bedroom, and Clark steps into their walk-in closet. His eyes fall on one of the shelves, and he pauses.
Sitting quietly amidst the various clothing and accessories, are three very unique objects.
The hollow, perfectly lifelike faces of three beautiful young women gaze at them blankly, with parted mouths and empty eyes. The strange sight, which would startle or frighten any other observer, only triggers intensely erotic memories for the happily married couple.
On the far left is Becky, Jennifer’s original alter-ego. Her auburn mane is neatly arranged in loose curls, and her skin looks clean and natural, as if she’s just woken up from a nap.
After spending a month regularly prancing around the house wearing that particular sexpot’s face and body, Jennifer had quickly become insatiable enough to require another identity.
That one came in the form of Elina, a pale, dark-haired European bombshell currently sitting to the right of Becky. Her face is still made-up from the last time she was worn, and her dark red lips glisten in the low lighting. An intricate floral tattoo can be seen on the right side of her neck, just underneath her ear.
Finally, there is Sofie, a stunning hispanic girl with smooth, caramel skin and long, silky hair. Her plump, pink lips seem to beckon Clark, reminding him of their time together just the night before. On the corner of her mouth, there’s a noticeable wetness, a subtle trace of all the lewd acts she’d been more than willing to perform.
“We should probably think about hiding these, if she’s going to be cleaning the whole house…” Clark says, stroking Sofie’s hair.
Jennifer chuckles. “Don’t worry, I said she didn’t have to worry about our bedroom. She seemed happy with that.”
Staring at the vacant faces in front of him, Clark can’t help but smile.
“We’re really going to burn through that Lyfelike catalog, aren’t we?” He asks his wife, gesturing to the Sofie mask.
Jennifer laughs and walks up beside him, reaching her hand out to cup the girl’s delicate, squishy chin. “Uh-huh” she affirms. “Still not tired of her?” She can recall passionate memories of her own from the previous night.
“Never…” Clark replies.
Grinning, his wife slides her fingers up the mask’s smooth flesh, and then grasps the top of its head. She pulls upwards, and Sofie’s pretty face lightly stretches against the foam as it comes off, and flops down into her hands.
Clark stares down into the crumpled mass of fake skin and hair, but his wife begins ushering him out of the closet.
“Well, she isn’t done with you yet, either” she purrs. “Now, go give her some time to freshen up…”
He turns, and the last thing he sees is Sofie’s vacant eye sockets gazing at him, before his wife closes the door.
Turning towards their bed, he thinks, with a smile: luckiest husband ever.
ONE MONTH LATER
Clark’s feet pound on the sidewalk, as he begins the final leg of his run and turns onto their street.
The past few weeks have passed by in a mildly hectic blur for him and his wife, whose work schedules were both filled with meetings and deadlines. Devon - as expected - had so far turned out to be quite the lifesaver in that regard. And not only had she helped them get back some of their own precious free time, their house had never looked so clean.
Having dialled back for the last block, Clark now breaks into a full sprint, and doesn’t stop until he reaches their driveway. He slows down to a walk as he approaches the door, and he can see Devon standing in the kitchen through the large front window. She sees him and smiles, giving him a friendly wave, which he returns.
Clark enters the house, and hears her voice - along with his wife’s - coming from the kitchen.
Working from home, Jennifer interacted with Devon much more than he did, which was just as well. It’s not as though he’d have a lot of this to discuss with a girl ten years his junior. In fact, her and his wife had grown quite close, and he’d often come home to them chatting over coffee or one of Jennifer’s delicious baked goods.
“Hey, Clark!” Devon chirps.
“Hey you two!” he replies, grabbing a bottled water from the refrigerator.
“How was your run, honey?” Jennifer asks, smiling up at him from the kitchen table.
“Good! Beautiful day. It’s finally cooling down out there.”
“Great!” She says. “Devon was just telling me about this new salon that opened up downtown. Didn’t I just say I was looking for someplace new? Look how great hers came out!”
Clark glances over and, sure enough, Devon appears to be sporting a new hairstyle.
“Yeah, looks great!” He agrees.
“Thanks!” She beams.
“What did you say it was called again?” His wife asks.
“Warm rose blonde” Devon replies. “It was the first time the hairdresser was trying it, so she gave me a discount. You really think it looks okay?”
“Definitely!” Jennifer assures her. “Maybe I’ll get the same thing. What do you think, Clark, is that too young of a look for me?”
“Oh, no” her husband answers earnestly. “You could pull off anything!”
The two women laugh. “Right answer!” Devon says. Then, she finishes her coffee and stands up from the table. “Well, I actually should be going. I have a ton of coursework to finish for tomorrow.”
“I don’t long for those days” Jennifer replies, taking her cup. “Don’t drive yourself too crazy.”
“I’ll try not to.” Then, Devon grabs a garment bag that Clark hadn’t noticed before, and adds “And thank you so much for letting me borrow this!”
“My pleasure! Have a great time at the wedding.”
The young girl says goodbye and lets herself out the front door. Clark turns to his wife and teases “So, you two are exchanging clothes now?”
Jennifer rolls her eyes. “She needed a nice dress, and if you didn’t know, I am very generous.”
Clark laughs and says “Well, I’m gross, so I’m going to hit the shower. Don’t start cooking without me!”
She smiles and nods, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You don’t have to worry about that” she jokes.
Ten minutes later, Clark is toweling himself off in their bathroom. He opens the door to their bedroom and says “You know, there is definitely something wrong with our water pressure. We should talk to that guy and- ”
He lets out a surprised gasp at the sight of a gorgeous, fair-skinned woman lying on their bed, wearing only a skimpy set of red, lacy lingerie. Straight, dark hair frames a face dripping with raw sex appeal, and she giggles when she sees his stunned reaction.
“I am sorry I startled you, lover” she purrs, in a delightful accent. Slowly, she lifts her knee, bending her leg and offering him a sight of her barely-covered groin.
Clark feels himself instantly begin to stiffen, and the woman bites her lip, gazing hungrily down at the bulge forming in his towel.
Even after all their experiences together, it still takes some mental gymnastics to convince his brain that the woman in front of him is really his wife in a wonderfully elaborate disguise. Her skin is smooth and flawless, and he knows that even if he examined her meticulously, he’d be hard-pressed to find one of the telltale seams.
He finally finds his voice and replies “O-oh…I wasn’t expecting you…Elina.”
She giggles again, then uses a finger to beckon him over. He complies, and when he reaches the side of the bed, she wastes no time in undoing the towel and tossing it away.
Elina takes him into her hand, stroking him tenderly. “But are you not happy to see me?” She hums, looking up at him with big, green eyes that are so unlike his wife’s.
Before he can reply, she uses her delicate grip to pull him onto the bed next to her. The last rational thought that passes through his mind before she presses her half-naked form against him is, What has gotten into her lately?
ONE WEEK LATER
Clark exits his office building, and heads toward his car parked at the back of the lot. On his way, his phone buzzes, and he looks down to read a text from his wife:
I’ll probably will be home later than expected :(. I also forgot to tell Devon to put out some candy on the porch. Can you do it, please? See you tonight sweetie xx.
Oh, right, she’s got that conference, he thinks, typing a quick reply. They really couldn’t have picked a night other than Halloween?
Twenty minutes later, he’s pulling into his driveway. And, sure enough, the first few groups of chaperoned children are making their way around the neighbourhood.
He enters the house, and finds that all the lights are on.
“Hello?” He calls out.
“Hey, Mr. Anderson! Uh, I mean, Clark!” He hears Devon reply from the living room.
A moment, later, she pokes her head around the corner into the kitchen. “Sorry I’m still here, I got a bit of a late start today!”
“Oh, no problem” he assures her. “I just didn’t want to startle you.”
She smiles. “It would have been the one appropriate night to do that though, huh?”
Clark laughs. “I suppose! Missed opportunity. Well, don’t let me get in your way.”
Devon nods and disappears back into the living room, while Clark busies himself dumping bags of candy into a large plastic bowl.
A minute later, he hears Devon’s footsteps coming into the kitchen. “Done for the day?” He asks, with his back to the doorway.
“Almost!” She chirps in reply.
He turns, and is momentarily caught off-guard when he sees that she’s dressed not in one of her casual cleaning outfits, but in a pink, sequinned ballerina costume. The lacy top hugs her curves tightly, and the ruffled skirt falls to just above her mid-thigh.
She catches his eye, and looks a little bashful. “Sorry, but I’m supposed to go to my friend Tina’s for a Halloween party after this, and I knew I wouldn’t have time to change…”
“Oh, don’t worry about it” he replies, brushing it off. “I guess I just feel underdressed!”
Devon laughs, then spots the bowl of candy on the counter. “Aw, are you really going to be that guy? You don’t want to answer the door?” She teases.
“And walk back-and-forth from the couch all night? No, thanks” he responds, with a grin.
Just then, the doorbell rings, and Devon looks up at him excitedly. “Ooh, let me at least get this one!” She chirps, grabbing the bowl.
“Hey, if you want door duty, be my guest!”
With a happy smile on her face, she walks towards the door, but then accidentally drops a few packs of Skittles on the floor in front of her.
“Whoops!” she murmurs. She bends at her waist to pick them up, unintentionally giving Clark a clear view of the thin, pink thong barely covering her private area.
His face flushes and he quickly looks away, but the image remains seared into his brain.
Devon drops them back into the bowl and continues down the hall, as if nothing had happened. She opens the door, and he hears the classic “Trick or treat!” sung by the group of kids on the porch.
“Happy Halloween!” Devon cheerfully hums. “I see an ice skater, a bunny, a Ghostbuster…oh, are you supposed to be a rag doll? So cute!”
Clark can’t help but smile at hearing her interact with the children. But then, the vision of lacy fabric and her smooth, pale thighs flashes through his mind, and he has to shake his head to clear it away.
After a few moments, she returns to the kitchen.
“Really though, if you’re just finishing up, you can drop the bowl out there. I’m going to shower when you leave, anyway” Clark says.
“Aww, okay” she smiles, turning back the way she came. After completing her task, she comes back into the room and grabs a clear bottle.
“So, is Jennifer working late?” She inquires, nonchalantly spraying the counter with the cleaner.
“Yeah, she has a conference” Clark replies, pouring himself some water. He holds the glass up and asks “Want some?”
Devon smiles. “Got anything stronger?” She replies, but then she breaks into a playful giggle. “Nah, I’m just kidding.”
Clark laughs. “Yeah…drunk cleaning. I guess that would make it more enjoyable.”
“Oh, I really don’t mind. I find it relaxing” she says, slowly wiping the counter top with a paper towel. Leaning over it, she seems totally unaware that her cleavage is fully on display, pushed up dramatically by her tight costume.
Once again, Clark has to avert his eyes, and begins gazing out the kitchen window into the backyard.
“So, when will she be home?” Devon asks, dropping the towel into the trash can.
“I’m not sure, probably another couple of hours, at least.”
“Aw, that’s too bad! I love Halloween. It would suck to be alone” Devon professes, now grabbing a duster.
“Nah, I don’t mind. I’ll probably just hang out and watch Scream or something” Clark replies.
Devon begins dusting the shelves next to the refrigerator. Every time she moves the feathery brush back and forth, her hips wiggle and her fluffy skirt swishes, exposing more of her thighs.
Jesus, Devon, Clark thinks, leaning over the counter to distract himself with his phone.
“Oh, is that the one with Drew Barrymore in the opening scene?” She bubbles, seemingly unaware of her enticing movements. “So scary! I remember watching that and then being freaked out when my parents left me home alone.”
Clark nods, swiping on the screen. “Yup, it’s a classic!”
After a moment, he looks up to check her progress, and sees that she’s bent herself over again, this time to dust the bottom shelf. Somehow, her thong has slipped to the side, lewdly exposing a portion of her bare groin.
He chokes on his water and starts to cough, turning away and smacking himself on the chest.
“Are you okay?” Devon asks, standing upright and walking over to him with a worried look in her eyes.
“Wrong pipe!” Clark chokes out.
What the fuck? He wonders, gasping to regain his breath. Is she completely oblivious? And did she get that costume at the adult sex store or something?
She places a hand on his back, and begins patting it firmly. “Here, does that help?”
Clark leans over to grab a towel to wipe his mouth, also nonchalantly moving away from her touch.
“I’m good now, thanks!” He says, reassuring the concerned girl.
“Maybe I should stick around tonight” she teases, with a cute smile. “You could choke to death without me!”
He responds with a self-deprecating laugh. “You might be right. But seriously, I’m okay.”
“Are you suuuure?” She hums, swaying her hips back and forth. “My friends can be kind of immature sometimes. I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you instead…”
She looks up at him with her big, blue eyes, and there’s something distinctly less-than-innocent in her gaze. She bites her lower lip, and Clark starts to get a very uncomfortable feeling.
“Devon, no offense, but you should definitely go to your party. Enjoy it and have fun!” He insists.
The blonde girl pouts. “Aw, okay” She replies. Then, her lips curl into an impish smile. “You know, I don’t think I ever mentioned the nickname me and some of the neighbourhood girls invented for you” she adds, poking his chest playfully.
She’s touchy tonight, Clark thinks, taking a half step backwards to lean against the counter. He crosses his arms, and tries to sound casual.
“Oh, you have a nickname for me? Wonderful” he jokes. “Is it ‘sweaty lawn mowing guy’?”
“Nooo” Devon hums. She takes a half step closer to him, and bores her eyes into his, with an unmistakably flirtatious look on her face. “It's 'hot husband'.”
Okay, this has gone on long enough, Clark decides.
“That’s very flattering, Devon. But, you can see how that would make me a little uncomfortable, right? I mean, it’s not very appropriate” he rebukes.
Devon appears remorseful, and lowers her eyes to the floor. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” she replies.
But then, she looks back up at him with a coquettish smile. She reaches her hand out and gently strokes his forearm. “Why don’t I try to make you…comfortable, instead?” She purrs.
What the fuck has gotten into her? Is she fucking high? Clark would have never pegged Devon for a drug user, but it’s the only explanation he can think of.
“Whoa, Devon, where is this coming from?” He asks, brushing past her to give her some space.
Seemingly undeterred, she turns and flutters her eyelashes, gazing at him lustfully. “Oh, are you saying you’ve never thought about me?” She asks. “I’ve thought about you…”
“Okay, Devon, I don’t know what has gotten into you, but I think you should go” Clark insists.
The girl pouts again. “But your wife won’t be home for hours! We could have a lot fun in that amount of time…” she murmurs, stroking her pale chest with her finger.
“Devon! Leave. Please.” Clark states, pointing towards the hallway.
To his surprise, she drops her hand from her chest and starts laughing, tossing her long, blonde hair back behind her head.
“It is really not funny” Clark asserts.
Wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye, Devon giggles “You really haven’t figured it out yet?”
“Figured out…what?” He replies. Man, she really is on something.
He then watches Devon lift her hand back up to her cheek, pinching it firmly in between her thumb and index finger. She pulls at it, and it strains as expected, tugging her lips to the side. But then, he hears a soft pop, and her pale skin appears to loosen, stretching unnaturally far.
Clark gasps when he sees a different face hidden underneath hers, with slimmer lips and a freckled cheek.
His stunned mind manages to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
“JENNIFER?!” He exclaims.
The phony Devon starts to laugh again, despite her distorted face. With wide eyes, Clark watches her release her cheek and carefully smooth it back in place with her fingers. In just a moment, she looks perfectly normal.
“Hey, babe” she chuckles. She gives him a different-looking smile, and Clark recognizes it as his wife’s; a very strange sight to see on Devon’s face.
With his heart hammering in his chest, he appraises the blonde, costumed girl in a totally new light.
“H-how?” He stammers.
With a big smile, Devon replies “Remember when you said we were going to ‘burn through the Lyfelike catalog’? Well, I decided to visit the Custom section of their website instead. All it took was some pictures, and a little voice recording…”
Clark looks the imposter up and down, not seeing any hint of a disguise.
“Holy shit…” he whispers. “But, honey, you can’t…I mean, this seems...wrong.”
“Why, because I’m wearing her face?” Devon says, stroking her smooth cheek. “And her body…and I’m using her pretty voice…?”
Clark’s mouth falls open as the phony girl runs her hands down her sides, purring sweetly. His mind races, trying to figure out how Jennifer pulled off such an elaborate trick.
It couldn’t always have been her. I’ve seen them together…
“But, she’s real. A normal girl. You can’t just impersonate her like this…”
Devon giggles, seeing the conflicted look on his face. “How come? It’s just us. And you’re telling me I don’t look adorable in this outfit?” She replies, wiggling her hips.
Clark still looks hesitant, so his disguised wife struts over to him and places a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with unfamiliar eyes.
“Look, I know this is different” she purrs. “But I’m so fucking turned on under all this. Wearing her tight little costume over her tight little body…”
She lifts her lips and kisses him tenderly on the cheek, then whispers into his ear. “I spent so much time practicing being her, are you really going to let that go to waste?”
“Fuck, Jennifer…” Clark mumbles. It makes so much more sense to him now. It was his wife, flaunting and taunting him with the neighbour girl’s body.
Devon pouts. “Don’t call me that when I look like this” she replies, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
The imposter looks up at her husband with another girl’s begging eyes. “Will you go along with it for me?” She asks, biting her lip.
Oh my God, Clark thinks. His mind is torn, thinking of the real Devon, whose body his wife is wearing like an elaborate costume. But then he thinks, it’s just a disguise, and it’s just us, so who’s really getting hurt?
The two sides of his conscience battle it out for a brief moment, but gazing down into his wife’s masked face, it doesn’t take long for him to make up his mind.
Slowly, he nods, and Devon’s mouth curls into an eager, happy smile.
She smooths out her hair and costume, then he watches as her entire demeanour transforms, and it’s as if his wife’s persona totally gives way to Devon’s.
She softly clears her throat. “Well, if you want me to go, can I at least show you how I rearranged the bookcase in the living room?” She asks him hopefully, as if nothing at all has happened.
Holy shit, she really can act, Clark muses, gawking at the imposter.
“U-uh, yeah, sure” he replies. “I guess you can do that quickly. But then you have to go.”
Devon nods respectfully, then bubbles “Okay. Come on!” She takes him by the hand and guides into the living room.
When they reach the bookcase, she lets go of him, and does an excited twirl. “Voilà!” She giggles, holding her hands out toward it.
Sure enough, the shelves all appear newly organized; their many books arranged in a very neat and orderly manner.
Damn, Jennifer even did actual housework to sell this, Clark thinks, gazing down at the smiling girl.
“Wow, J-Devon. It really does look great, thank you.”
She gives a happy little bounce on her feet, overlooking his almost-slip-up.
“I’m so glad you like it! Not that it was messy to begin with, or anything. I just wanted to do something special for you!” She beams, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
If I didn’t just get a peek at her underneath that mask, I’d still have no fucking clue this is Jennifer…Clark marvels.
“We really appreciate the effort” he assures her, playing along. After a pause, he adds “But shouldn’t you get going to your party?”
Devon looks away demurely, but then raises her eyes to meet his. She steps forward, closing the gap between them, and places her hand gently on his chest.
“Well, if you really want me to go, I will…” she says, standing so close that he can smell her light perfume. “But, if you let me stay, I was thinking I could do another something special for you…”
She bites her lip and slides her fingers all the way down to his waistline, lightly grasping at his belt. Her blue eyes gaze up at him with a hopeful, inviting look.
“Devon…” Clark whispers, feeling himself instantly stiffen. He stares down at the pretty, eager blonde girl in front of him. Any man would find her attractive, but the fact that he knows it’s really his wife behind that lovely face sends his arousal into overdrive.
Fuck it, he thinks. This is what she wants, and I can’t pretend it isn’t hot as hell. Devon is coming on to me and I’ll just pretend my wife is okay with it…
He reaches out and strokes her hair, and she turns her head to plant a warm kiss on his palm.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Devon purrs, letting her hand fall to gently cup his groin. “I vacuumed the cushions, so they’re, like, super clean…”
He lets her guide him several steps backwards, and falls onto the couch. She kneels in front of him, and her adoring eyes remain locked onto his.
“Are you sure about this, Devon?” Clark asks, with his heart beating so hard he can practically hear it.
She nods in earnest, and her blonde hair bounces around her face. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long…” she murmurs in her sweet, silky voice, gazing hungrily at the bulge in his pants.
Clark wants to reach out and tug on her plump lower lip, to reassure himself that this hot little sexpot is really just his wife in a mask. But he knows that would ruin the illusion, so he lets himself relax into the soft cushion while the phony girl performs.
Gingerly, she unclasps his belt and tugs his pants down his legs. She kisses her way back up his thigh, then slips her hands into the waistband of his briefs, hastily tearing them off as well.
His stiff member springs free, and Devon lets out a delighted, longing gasp. She wraps her fingers around it and begins to gently stroke him.
“Just relax, Mr. Anderson” she whispers, resting her other hand on his thigh. “Let me take care of you…”
She leans her head forward and licks the tip of his shaft, then slides her pink, fluffy lips down onto him.
He groans in pleasure as she begins working him with her mouth, letting out the occasional muffled moan.
“Fuuuuuck, Devon…” he grunts. Hearing 'her' name causes the blonde imposter to pick up her pace, and lewd slurping noises begin escaping her lips.
It is impossibly hot for Clark to know that it’s really his wife enthusiastically sliding Devon’s plump lips up and down him, moaning in her stolen voice.
He wraps his fingers through her hair and places his other hand against her dainty cheek. After what feels like an eternity of bliss, she bottoms out and presses her button nose into his abdomen, then slowly slides her lips off of him with a satisfied gasp.
She runs her tongue over her swollen lips and gazes lustfully up at him, as saliva drips down onto her chest. The insanely erotic sight is almost enough to make him burst.
“I want you to fuck me, Mr. Anderson” she purrs, batting her long eyelashes.
Speechless, he can only look on as she stands and pulls her skirt up her thighs, nudging her lacy underwear to the side. Her puffy, glistening mound is revealed, and Clark’s eyes widen with desire.
“Do you like my pussy?” She moans, tracing her soft flesh with a pink fingernail. “I saw you peeking at it earlier…”
“Yes…” Clark whispers, staring at her exposed sex. It doesn’t look like his wife’s, and it definitely doesn’t look fake. He reaches out and tugs the flimsy fabric down her pale legs, causing her to squeal happily.
She climbs onto the couch and straddles him, bunching her costume’s ruffled skirt around her slim waist. She grasps his girth in one hand and guides his throbbing member into her waiting slit.
Devon lets out a long, primal sigh when he enters her, and tosses her head back in ecstasy. Slowly, she lowers herself onto his length, panting loudly with desire.
I can’t believe this is my wife, is the last coherent thought that passes through Clark’s mind, as the phony girl starts rhythmically bouncing up and down on top of him.
He reaches around her back and tugs at the zipper of her ballerina costume, loosening the tight corset. His hand grasps the delicate fabric and pulls it down, exposing her chest. Her perky breasts bounce free, and her light pink nipples brush against his face. He pinches one between his fingers, and she lets out a startled squeal.
Clark imagines his wife’s pert breasts tucked underneath Devon’s; the material likely thin enough to barely lessen the sensation.
He gropes her slender body as she rides him, and loud, unintelligible gasps begin flowing from her lips.
Devon turns her head to the side, and Clark sees her eyes widen in lust. Following her gaze, he sees that a tall mirror has been leaned against the wall, and they are able to witness their passionate lovemaking in its reflection. The view seems to have a strong effect on the girl, and she lets out a low, guttural moan, as her hips start to bounce faster and harder.
Clark grabs Devon’s waist and pulls her all the way down onto him, and she falls against his chest, mewling into his ear.
“Harder…mister…Anderson…” she whimpers, as her long blonde hair falls in between them.
He obliges, and the lewd sounds of their bodies slapping together fill the small room. After just a moment, Clark feels a pressure quickly building inside him.
“Devon…I’m…I’m gonna…” he groans, firmly gripping her waist.
“It’s…okay” she gasps. “I’m…on…the…pill…”
Her whispered words of encouragement send him over the edge, and Clark erupts inside of her as her legs begin to shake uncontrollably. Devon lets out a loud, carnal scream, and he grasps the back of her blonde head. He holds her trembling body tightly against him as they writhe together, and her pale cheek grinds against his shoulder.
After several long moments, her desperate gasps become heavy sighs, and her frantic thrusting turns into slow, deliberate motions.
“Th-thank you…” Devon mumbles, brushing her disheveled hair out of her face.
He can only groan, as she slowly eases herself off of his lap. With a lewd slurp, he slips out of her, and she collapses onto the couch next to him, breathing heavily.
With a heaving chest, Clark stares up at the ceiling, too stunned to move. That was fucking…incredible, he thinks.
He’s too distracted to notice Devon subtly pawing at her face. When she was grinding her cheek against his shoulder, her mask had shifted noticeably. The phony girl pinches her plump lips and pulls them back over those of the other woman wearing her, tucking them inside her mouth. She presses on her pale skin, making sure everything is properly back in place.
Satisfied, she reaches for her discarded panties and sighs in her dulcet voice, “I promise I won’t tell your wife…”
Clark stares wide-eyed at the counterfeit girl, as she slowly pulls her underwear back up her still-trembling legs, nestling the silky fabric over her groin.
“Okay…” he whispers. “But this can’t happen again, Devon.”
She looks at him with twinkling blue eyes, then leans over to kiss his cheek. “Yes, Mr. Anderson” she replies, softly.
Devon stands up from the couch and tugs her skirt down into place, then stuffs her bare chest back into the lacy garment, and pulls the tiny zipper up her back.
“Well, I guess I should be going now” she purrs, smoothing out the fabric of her costume. “I’ll see you next week?”
Clark nods at the young sexpot in front of him. She gives him a big, satisfied smile, then turns towards the hall. As she walks away, he can see a thick, shiny stream running down the inside of her thigh.
She stops at the doorway and blows him a kiss, before disappearing around the corner.
He hears the front door open, then close, and can only think a single thought.
What kind of monster have I created?
DAYS LATER
In the middle of the weekday afternoon, Clark finds himself spacing out, and staring out the window of his office. As is the norm lately, whenever his attention drifts, it only goes to one thing.
“Harder…mister…Anderson…” he can hear Devon’s sweet, pleading voice echoing through his mind.
What made it even hotter - if that was possible - was that Jennifer barely acknowledged the encounter. Instead, the next day, Devon’s pretty, hollow face simply joined the other three girls in their closet. The sight had stunned him for a moment, even though he’d gotten very up close and personal with the disguise the previous night.
It was one thing for him to see Becky, Elina and Sofie sitting there silently on the shelf. But it was so distinctly erotic to see a girl they both knew, reduced to another perfectly realistic mask.
He remembers approaching it carefully, as if he was going to somehow wake up the lifeless face. He could see that her pink lip gloss was still smudged, and a bit of wetness remained at the corners of her mouth.
Then, he’d looked down and noticed what was hanging beneath the mask, and he’d almost jumped.
Wanting to further immerse herself in the persona - or maybe it was just more practical - Jennifer had ordered an entire lifelike bodysuit of the young girl, complete from neck to toes.
Devon’s limp, floppy arms and legs hung listlessly, and her bare chest and groin were immodestly on display. In between her hollow thighs, he could make out the dried, sticky remnants of the salacious acts Jennifer had made the young girl perform the night before.
Now, sitting at his desk, Clark can feel himself getting aroused, and shakes his head to clear his mind of those obscene thoughts.
Back to work, he thinks, turning to his computer. But part of his attention remains with that pretty blonde girl, hanging quietly in their closet.
Hours later, after his short commute, he steps into their house through the door from their garage. He hears two familiar voices, and groans.
Oh, fuck, he panics. Too late to turn back now.
He heads into the kitchen, and sure enough, there’s Devon happily chatting with his wife. She’s wearing a much more appropriate outfit this time around, but of course, that’s because his wife is no longer encased inside her body, manipulating her like a puppet on strings.
“Hey, Mr….Clark!” She greets him, still endearingly not quite used to addressing him by his first name.
“H-hey, Devon” he replies, with an awkward stammer. He tries to keep his cool, and sets his work bag on the counter.
“Did you have a good day at work, babe?” Jennifer asks, with a subtle twinkle in her eyes.
“Yep” he responds. “Pretty run of the mill!”
He glances over at the younger girl, and his mind is involuntarily pulled back to Halloween night. Since then, he’d learned that the Devon-suit Jennifer had worn wasn’t perfectly accurate, of course, but that didn’t stop him from visualizing her likeness in all her naked glory.
His wife suppresses a smile, seeing the flustered look on his face.
“That’s good!” She chirps. “Devon was just finishing up.”
The blonde nods. “Uh huh! Thanks again for the night off last week. It was fun taking my cousin trick-or-treating!” She hums.
Clark feels himself flush. Night off. Right.
“Anyway, I’ll see you guys on Thursday!” Devon adds, before heading down the hall.
They hear the front door open and close, then Jennifer turns to her husband and approaches him. She places a hand on his chest, then leans in to whisper in his ear.
“Want me to go put her on?” She purrs. “I bought those same exact leggings over the weekend…”
Clark gulps, and feels blood rushing to his groin. He nods, and Jennifer gives him a wicked, eager smile.
She heads for the staircase, calling back out to him “I have to go run some errands, babe! I might be a few hours.”
She turns and winks, then quickly disappears upstairs.
EPILOGUE
ONE WEEK LATER
Clark drops the weights to the floor, having completed his set. He wipes the sweat from his brow, grabs his water bottle, and takes a healthy swig. Then, he hears the small gym’s door open, and turns to see who it is.
His heart skips a beat when he sees Devon enter, carrying a small tote bag and a water bottle of her own.
“Oh, hey Clark!” She greets him, with a wave.
Ugh, I have to be suspicious all the time now! He thinks, subtly appraising the newcomer.
“Hey, Devon!” He replies, trying to keep his mind from wandering to images of her, kneeling half-naked in front of him.
“It’s weird seeing you outside of work!” She jokes, setting her bag on a bench.
That’s definitely something Jennifer would say to throw me off…he considers.
Instead of outright accusing her of being an imposter - something unlikely to go over well, in any case - he just laughs.
“I know” he responds. “I’m glad to see you have some time for yourself, in between classes and everything.”
She nods, and her blonde ponytail bounces. “Yeah, I’m trying to get back into shape! I used to play soccer, but not anymore.”
I guess that explains why I haven’t seen you here before, Clark thinks. Their residential community has a small fitness centre, which he tries to frequent at least once a week.
“Well, enjoy your workout! I won’t be here too much longer, anyway” he says.
Devon smiles and nods. “Yeah, you too!”
Clark continues his exercises, as the younger girl loads some weights on the bar in the squat rack. With her back to him, she steps underneath it and positions it on her shoulders, then eases it off the metal supports. Bending her knees and keeping her back flat, she lowers her body into a proper squat.
But of course, as one might imagine, that particular exercise has the unintended effect of thrusting a person’s backside towards whoever happens to be behind them. Which, in this case, is the already suspicious Clark.
Devon’s shapely rear strains her already tight gym shorts, and the thin material rides up between her thighs, leaving little to the imagination.
Clark reaches for his phone.
Nope, nope, he thinks. Not this time.
He sends a text to his wife:
Hey babe, what are you up to?
Clark is then mildly surprised when she responds within a few seconds.
Not much, about to watch some Survivor. Are you still at the gym?
He glances over to Devon, who remains engrossed in her workout.
Man, I really need to get my mind out of the gutter. But I blame Jennifer, he muses, with a half-grin.
He texts her back:
Yup! Be home soon.
He turns ninety degrees to the right and continues his workout, respectfully avoiding Devon’s presence.
Finally, he sets the weight back onto the rack, and wipes his forehead with a towel.
“All done?” Devon inquires, taking a sip from her water bottle.
“Yep!” He replies, grabbing his gym bag. “It was nice seeing you!”
“You, too!” She chirps. “Tell Jennifer I say hi.”
Clark nods and waves, then heads for the bathroom just across the hall. He hates leaving the gym while dripping sweat, and always takes a little time to wash up before heading home.
A few minutes later, he turns off the sink and towels himself off. Opening the bathroom door, he’s surprised to see Devon standing right outside in the hall.
“Sorry! The ladies’ room was occupied” she says, with a friendly smile.
“Oh, no problem” Clark replies, holding the door open for her.
Devon moves to brush past, but instead, stops right alongside him, and looks up into his eyes.
She bites her lower lip and softly asks, “Wanna join me in there, daddy?”
It’s as if Clark receives an electric shock, and he feels himself almost physically jump.
“What?” He gasps, gazing down at the smirking blonde.
She continues in a hushed whisper. “We’ve never fucked anywhere else before…” she murmurs.
“W-we…we’ve never” Clark stammers. Devon looks up at him with a very familiar, mischievous expression. “How?” He demands.
“Oh, you know how” she giggles, placing her hand on her pale chest, where her breasts are pushed up enticingly by her light blue sports bra.
“But…I texted you…Jennifer...” he insists.
She just rolls her eyes playfully. “Your wife is a clever woman. I’m sure she thought of something…”
Clark glances around to make sure no one is witnessing the encounter, grateful that the common building is deserted at such a relatively late hour.
Before he can protest his impeccably disguised wife, she takes him by the hand and practically drags him into the bathroom, locking the door behind them.
Devon turns and gazes at him lustfully, and moves toward him, but he stops her short.
He reaches his hand out and touches her puffy lower lip, pinching it lightly between his fingers. Seeing the look in his eyes, she gives him a knowing smile, and nods.
Gently, he pulls on her lip, feeling resistance until it suddenly snaps free with a soft pop. Underneath, he can see Jennifer’s skin, as the imposter continues to smile.
“Happy now?” She murmurs, her words distorted as part of her mouth remains grasped between his fingers.
Nodding, he releases her flesh, and she smooths her lip back into place.
Then, she drops her pink-tipped fingers to the front of her bra, and pulls down the small zipper in the middle. The garment splits in half, exposing her bare chest. Her perky breasts spring free and bounce lightly until they settle in place, as she eases the bra’s straps off of her shoulders and tosses it to the floor.
The topless, phony Devon approaches him, biting her fixed lower lip. She takes his hand in hers, and guides it to her naked breast.
“You’re not gonna turn me down, are you, mister Anderson?” She purrs sweetly, batting her eyelashes. "You never have before..."
Clark’s heart hammers in his chest, and any ounce of restraint goes right out the window as soon as his fingers touch her soft, warm flesh.
He squeezes her breast and she closes her eyes, letting out a soft, almost pleading moan. Then she looks up at him and hooks her thumbs into the waistline of his shorts, pulling them down his legs, along with his briefs. Her hand grazes his rapidly stiffening member, as she turns around to face the mirror.
Devon then tugs down her own shorts, shimmying her hips side-to-side. The tight fabric slips down her smooth, pale thighs, revealing the fact that she isn’t wearing any underwear.
With her shorts bunched up around her ankles, the naked Devon bends over the counter top and gazes at Clark in the mirror’s reflection, with a desperate look in her eyes.
“Show me how you treat a girl, mister Anderson…” she whimpers, wiggling her hips invitingly.
With wide, lustful eyes, Clark grasps her narrow waist, and eases himself inside of her.
He sees her open her mouth to moan, and quickly places his hand over her lips.
“Shh” he whispers. “I need you to be quiet, Devon…”
She nods frantically and presses herself onto him, as her eyes roll backwards in her head.