An executive discovers a mysterious package which allows him to become the embodiment of his greatest desire, and it makes an invitation from the boys at work an irresistible opportunity for self-discovery. However, the journey to understanding is fraught with peril, and hell hath no fury like a woman’s.

---

Chapter 1
Trent fiddled with his key fob as he strutted past the lesser cars in the parking lot. A flick of the wrist turned his sports car to life, its headlights peeking out and ready to go.

"Time to fly," Trent said to himself as he slipped into the leather seat. The engine purred to life at his touch, the sound a symphony of mechanical perfection. The sun fell over the horizon as the car’s tires peeled out of the lot.

Trent's phone buzzed as he headed down the street. A look showed Sam Arnold, Trent’s Assistant Controller and self-appointed social coordinator.

“What’s up Sam?”

“Me and the boys were wondering if you might want to join us at O’Malley’s.” Sam sounded nervous.

“Don’t you guys have an early morning tomorrow? Inventory observations start at 6AM.”

Sam said, “We were thinking of staying out all night then going back to the office. We’ll sleep when we get home.”

Trent laughed, “Oh, to be young again.”

“You aren’t old, sir.”

Trent knew why they wanted him to come. “I appreciate the invite.”

“Don’t blow us off. It’ll disappoint everyone if you don’t show up. We’re almost done here, I’ll text you when we’re about to leave.

Trent sighed. As a corporate officer, everyone expected him to pick up the tab. “I’ll think about it.”

“Awesome.”

The entire company would focus on his department over the next month. The other department heads mocked them eleven months of the year, but at year-end, everyone wanted to know their final numbers. Good numbers meant a year-end bonus. Bad numbers meant someone might lose their job.

Trent picked well when he hired Sam – a smart kid, but lacking in self-confidence and ambition. He’d graduated with a solid GPA, but not good enough to attract a top firm's interest. Kids like Sam were perfect hires. Intelligent enough to get a working understanding of finance but not able to bolt after two years. Trent liked Sam well enough and promoted him from an entry level staff job to assistant controller in five years.

The rumors said Sam worked his way through most of the clerical girls too.

A beep sounded on his phone. Another text. Sometimes he wished he could shut the damned thing off. How many calls, emails, and texts did he go through every day? A hundred? Five hundred? Even with his secretary’s help he couldn’t keep it under control.

His phone showed the production manager’s name next to the text. ‘How’s it looking?’

A scowl creased Trent’s forehead as he remembered the man’s mocking tone in a recent staff meeting. Trent gripped the steering wheel tight, his knuckles whitening with every remembered jest.

They thought his job easy, moving figures from one column to another. The return text could wait.

Cold air nipped Trent’s cheeks as he stepped out of the car. The leather bottoms of his shoes clicked on the pavement as he passed under a neon sign, ‘Liquor King’.

The bell above the door announced his entrance and a familiar man stood up. “Evening Mr. Stephens.” The cashier's hands fumbled with keys as he hurried to open the cabinet containing the good stuff. “The usual?”

"Yeah." Trent responded in a terse voice.

Jerry placed a bottle of Patron on the counter, "Rough day?"

Trent shook his head. Men like Jerry could never understand his world. Trent tossed a couple of bills on the counter. “Keep it.” By the end of the night, he didn’t want to feel a thing.

A glimpse of a shadow flashed from the porch when Trent pulled into the driveway.

“Odd…”

He wasn’t expecting anything. A simple box, plain, and unadorned. A quick check showed no packing slip or address of any kind. Who would send him something without leaving a name? Maybe a late Christmas present? Trent eyed it for a moment before scooping it up, its light weight a surprise.

The silence of his house deafened him as he entered. A flick of the switch bathed the room in a sterile glow.

“Honey, I’m home.” The long practiced routine once made him happy. The silence which followed did not.

A two finger pour, and a gulp allowed the warm liquid to race through his body. Only a select few understood the pressure of his job. It was important to find a way to blow off steam. Trent took a deep breath as he poured another shot. He needed this. And a shower. And a nap – a twelve-hour nap.

Curiosity called instead. The box looked normal enough. Brown cardboard, well taped. A butter knife couldn’t cut through to the interior, but a steak knife did.

Trent found a mass of flesh-colored fabric inside. Laying it on the table showed a bodysuit made of silk or some other soft material. Two large orbs adorned the front. Long strands of hair fell from the hood. It was an oddity, yet called to him at the same time.

Trent furrowed his brow. "Curious…" No tag inside and no note.

Trent picked up the bottle of tequila, drinking straight from the bottle this time. Liquid fire traced a path down his throat, its burn, a reminder of his life. Time warped reality as the tequila did its thing.

In the darkening room, the garment almost looked human. "A dance milady?”

His words slurred as he took another drink. Trent's world spun in a carousel of color and sensation. He pulled the silk garment close as he swung with it around the room.

---

Chapter 2
Her eyes haunted him.

He saw them every time he slept.

"Miss McConnell," he said, the first time they met. The name Karen burned in his mouth, tasting of forbidden fruit. The young angel worked her way into his heart with a body of devilish desire, batting a pair of eyelashes which set his heart aflame. He didn’t dare speak to her for weeks after their first meeting. Girls like her never spoke to him in high school.

"I can help you." Trent said, cradling the bodysuit against his chest.

They met in a hotel their first night, paid for with a credit card he’d set up with one purpose. The girl looked as scared as he felt. Other flashes burst in his mind. Stolen kisses in the supply closet. Hushed conversations by the water cooler.

Screams filled his ears when Bethany found out. No words could soothe her. No promises could suffice. He’d given his wife every thing she requested. His reward??? An empty house.

He called Karen, expecting a sympathetic ear, but the experience scarred her. They had one last night, and their affair was over. The whispers followed him at work, like high school all over again. Girls teased him behind his back, and people he considered friends plotted against him.

Trent pulled the orbs close as his eyelids grew heavy. The memories of Karen screamed in his mind as everything grew black.

---

Chapter 3
‘Bzzzzz… bzzzz… bzzzz… bzzz…”

Trent reached for his phone. Three missed phone calls and ten missed texts. Sam sent six of the texts.

‘your missing a great time”

Trent rolled out of bed as darkness streamed through the windows. A look at the clock showed he’d slept for three hours. A shake of his head sent piles of brown hair flowing past his shoulders. A look at his arms and feet caused him to sprint to the bathroom.

“What the fuck?” He said in high-pitched voice.

His memories returned. He remembered crawling inside the bodysuit, but this didn’t seem possible. The mirror showed Karen. Temporary elation turned to panic as he tore at the suit. It took two minutes to find the hidden zipper underneath his Adam’s apple. As the zipper released, he pulled and pulled, escaping the suit in one final lunge.

The material fell to the floor, losing its magic.

‘Bzzzzz… bzzzz… bzzzz… bzzz…”

Sam again.

‘the girls in this place are amazing. were all gonna get laid. everyone wants to know if ur coming.’

Trent looked at the pile of cloth on the floor and back at his phone.

He held the bodysuit up to the light, inspecting it for answers. It was a miracle of technology, or so it seemed. The cloth beckoned, promising relief. For the second time, Trent put a foot inside, this time wiser to its use.

He wriggled and pulled as the suit molded to his legs. His memories turned to Karen. Her firm ass. Her huge breasts. Her hair as soft as silk.

Trent often wondered how it must feel to hold such power. To enter any room and grab the attention of every man.

He took a final slug of tequila before pulling up the hood and letting the zipper seal him in. Momentary panic consumed him until his vision cleared. This metamorphosis went against all the laws of science, yet Trent’s eyes didn’t lie as the flesh-colored fabric disappeared into his skin, molding his body like clay.

"Amazing," Trent said in another person’s voice as his naked backside rounded into shape. He fixed his gaze on dark locks as they cascaded down his shoulders, now framing a familiar visage. The two orbs on his chest, swelled even further, forming Karen’s DD's.

"Hello my beauties…it’s been a long time." Trent smiled as he felt himself up, sending shivers down his spine. The smile disappeared when the bulge between his legs disappeared. He reached with a hand, drawing back as if he’d touched a light socket.

Nothing made sense, but Trent’s hands continued their explorations, his voice shouting higher and higher. By the time he stopped, the bodysuit fit him like a glove, rewriting every curve and corner.

Karen's voice shouted a climatic, “Ayyyyyiiieee!”, as Trent’s world began to spin, and he fell into darkness.

‘Bzzzzz… bzzzz… bzzzz… bzzz…”

A look at the phone showed the boys calling again. They expected him to swagger in, wallet open, ready to pay for their amusement.

Trent looked in the mirror, redoubling his conviction. He could turn the tables in this bodysuit. Tonight, they'd be buying him drinks. He’d be like a siren, enchanting all the men, tricking them to reveal their deepest thoughts.

Trent ran to the closet, finding one of Bethany’s favorites. The dress whispered elegance as he slipped the material over his head. The fabric hugged Trent's newfound femininity as he cinched it into place with the zipper. A look showed the dress even more stunning than he remembered, most likely a result of Karen’s massive chest.

A jump and a bounce proved the outfit secured. A second jump caused Trent’s smile to grow.

“Amazing.”

The boobs weren’t as heavy as he expected, but he could see how they could get annoying if you had to wear them all the time.

Bethany’s matching high heels slid on easy, their staccato’ed rhythm urging him forward as he strode across the bathroom tile. Makeup came next – Trent kept it simple, applying eyeliner and lipstick with a practiced hand. Karen never needed much to look great.

"Time to get laid," Trent said to the girl in the mirror. With each passing moment, Trent disappeared a little more. He'd become someone bolder. Someone less afraid. Someone who didn’t need to buy drinks for anyone.

He twirled in front of the mirror, this man craving control. Gone was Trent Stephens, CFO … he’d been replaced by Karen McConnell, siren of the night, ready to sip cocktails and sow chaos.

---

Chapter 4
The drumbeat of music pounded against Trent's chest as he entered O'Malley's.

"Karen?" A voice called as Trent balanced on high-heeled shoes. A chorus of unexpected cheers followed as a half dozen men turned their heads.

"You look amazing!" Johnny said, looking more animated than Trent had ever seen.

Bruce asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I … uhh … know you guys come here.”

“You came to see us?” Bruce’s eyes grew animated.

Marjorie said, “Don’t be a perv, Bruce. You know Karen’s had a rough time.”

Trent’s eyes met Marjorie’s and he gave her a subtle nod. Marjorie pulled Trent tight, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Love the hair, girl," she said as they separated. “And your dress looks amazing. Try to keep these assholes from spilling beer all over it.”

"Hey!" Johnny said. "We're gentlemen here."

Trent ignored them, touching the curls cascading past his shoulders. None of it seemed real. "I’m trying something new tonight," he quipped, his nerves pounding with every word.

The group laughed, though Trent didn’t think his comment funny.

"Looking good, McConnell!" boomed Frank, Trent’s office manager. Frank’s eyes never left Trent’s chest.

Trent blushed, his delicate eyelashes tickling his cheeks every time he blinked.

Four drinks sat on the table. Trent sipped the pink one. The rest of the ‘gang’ took their leave on the dance floor. He begged off, claiming a need to catch his breath.

Marjorie sat beside him, “Just so you know – that asshole Trent might be coming. Sam keeps texting him. We’ve begged him to stop.”

Ooof. One mark against Marjorie. Trent played it coy. “I can handle Trent.”

“Is it true you took out a restraining order?”

“Who said that?” Trent snapped, a sudden fury causing his voice to raise.

Marjorie whispered, “One of the girls in HR. I wish you’d talked to me before you left. I could have helped.”

“I…”

Marjorie gave a sympathetic look, “At least you got paid. Is it true they made you sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement?”

Trent tried to think of something to say. “No … no … you’ve got it all wrong. Trent looked out for me.”

“Sure … sure.” Marjorie said, giving him a knowing look. “I’m available if you ever want to talk. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

Trent shook his head. Everyone in the office knew never to tell Marjorie anything. She’d been the office gossip for years. Trent gulped down half of another drink.

Marjorie pulled on his arm. “Don’t look so glum, dear. It’s a party. We should dance.”

Trent watched his employees having fun without him, “Sure…”

Marjorie whispered in his ear, “Stay close to me. It’s safer if us gals to stick together.”

Trent nodded. “I suppose.”

---

Chapter 5

The music swelled, as a new plan formed in Trent’s mind.

The finance group looked happy to see him, but the combination of strobe lights and alcohol made it difficult to think. Every movement became a dialogue between Trent's muscle memory and this body’s form and function. Improvisation became the rule. Nothing else mattered.

Everyone’s eyes turned toward him, and to his surprise, Trent found he didn’t care.

"Tomorrow is going to suck." he shouted. His question hung among the echoes of laughter and music. Everyone in the office knew January would entail a lot of long hours.

"We don’t care about tomorrow." The group answered, all bold and defiant. Sam spoke with an affect of a Shakespearean actor, "We may die tomorrow, but on this night, we dance."

The whole group cheered Sam. Trent wanted to respond, but didn’t know what to say. He’d never been good at speeches. The group danced and danced until exhaustion and the threat of blisters made everyone sit.

"You looked good out there." His voice was smooth, like whiskey over ice. Trent turned to find Sam's face inches from his own.

"Sam, isn’t it?" Trent replied, marveling at the ease the lie slipped off his tongue. Playing coy, Trent tilted his head, allowing a soft curtain of hair to cascade over one eye.

"Guilty as charged," Sam confessed with a chuckle. "I always wanted to get to know you better."

"Yeah?" Trent nodded. He had no doubt of the truth of Sam’s words. The man’s interest was more than professional curiosity.

"Indeed," Sam agreed, his gaze lingering on Trent's lips before snapping back to meet his eyes. "I was sorry to hear what happened."

Trent pulled back, “What did you hear?”

Sam blushed, “I process the company’s disbursements. When I saw the large payout, I made inquiries.”

‘Fuck.’ Trent said to himself, “It’s not what you think. It was a misunderstanding.”

Sam raised a hand, “You don’t need to explain to me.”

Trent shook his head, “I asked him to leave his wife. When he refused, we decided it best if I didn’t work there anymore. Trent made sure I got severance.”

Sam shook his head, “Karen, you don’t have to protect Trent. I know him better than anyone.”

What the hell … even Sam? Trent tried to think of an explanation, but the situation called for action. He couldn't deny wanting to take full advantage of the bodysuit. He’d thought about it since the first time he’d seen his reflection. Sam wasn't someone Trent would normally consider, but like they say - ‘desperate times call for strange bedfellows’.

Trent smiled at his mixed metaphor as he took Sam’s hand. “I’ve heard stories about you. I’ve wondered if they’re true.”

"Stories about me?"

"About your ..." Trent smacked his lips, tasting the lipstick while looking at Sam’s crotch. "All the girls talk about it."

“Oh.” Sam blushed, “We shouldn't talk like this. It’s not appropriate.”

"I don't work for the company." Trent said, pulling himself closer and moving a hand up Sam’s leg. “Can you think of a better way to ring in the New Year?”

“I … uhhh.” Sam looked flustered. He nodded at the empty glass in Trent's hand. "Would you like another drink?"

Trent shook his head. “Are you going to make me beg?” He looked towards the bathroom and then back at Sam. "Maybe we could go somewhere private?"

“Are you sure?” Sam said. “I don’t want to take advantage.”

Trent insisted, “You’re being ridiculous, Sam. I thought you boys came to this bar to get laid.”

“It’s not that.” Sam shrugged, “I know what people will say tomorrow, and they won’t be talking about me.”

“I don’t care what other people think.” Trent said, the lie falling easy from his lips. His hand rubbed against Sam’s crotch, "Tonight is about making New Year’s resolutions, right?" Trent surprised himself as his voice shifted into a seductive tone. “I wanna get laid on New Year’s too.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Sam grabbed Trent’s hand, "Come with me."

Trent gasped as Sam pulled him with unexpected force. “Lead the way."

The bathroom door creaked opened, daring everyone to watch. Trent glanced back at their table and saw Marjorie staring. He returned a wicked smile before closing the door.

"Here we are," Sam voice echoed in the empty bathroom. The overhead light flickered, casting shadows on the floor.

Sam unbuttoned his pants. “I need a minute,"

Trent stared at Sam as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The rumor mill hadn’t lied. Sam may need more time, but already was double Trent’s size. Trent hugged Sam tight.

"Karen?" Sam breathed out, the name both a question and an affirmation.

"Yeah?" Trent whispered back, his thoughts confused by this new form.

Sam had one hand on Trent’s chest and the other exploring lower. “Why aren’t you wearing panties?”

Trent couldn’t help a tease. “Does that make me a naughty girl?”

Sam laughed, his lips meeting Trent's. The man’s self-assurance spoke volumes without uttering a single word, but he drew back at the last moment.

“Last chance to back out.”

Trent couldn’t believe it. "You’re being ridiculous again."

Trent pulled the fancy dress up, and pressed against Sam. Sam pushed Trent hard against the stall door. It didn’t take long for Trent’s softness to bloom, wrapped in a cocoon of Sam's warm embrace.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this." Sam murmured, his breath warm on Trent's neck, sending shivers down his spine.

Trent wanted to respond but found he couldn’t speak. In the background, cheers from the outside world built as the countdown began. So did Trent and Sam, their screams joining the cacophony for the coming new year.

The silence wrapped around Trent as he lay on the floor, unsure if he could stand. Their staggered breaths faded into a quiet rhythm. They’d shared something unspoken in a language no words could describe.

"Wow," Sam exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. “You were incredible.”

“I was?” Trent replied, pulling his dress down to hide his naked body. “I mean … yeah … you too.” Sam brushed a stray lock of hair from Trent’s face. Seconds later, a crowd of men rushed in to the bathroom.

One of them said, “It smells like sex in here.”

Sam offered Trent his hand and pulled him to his feet.

“The ball must have dropped.” Trent whispered as soft as he could, “What do we do now?”

Sam gave a resigned look, “Only one option.” He opened the stall door allowing a dozen men to gawk at Trent. Sam declared, “Welcome to the walk of shame, naughty girl.”

The sound of men’s laughter followed Trent out of the bathroom. His loathing grew as the click-clack of Karen's heels punctuated each stride.
Marjorie ran up when she saw Trent approach. "Are you ok?”

“I … uhhh …” The enormity of what happened bounced in Trent’s brain. Whether shame or exhilaration, he thought he might throw up. But he’d come here with a purpose. “… I fucked Sam.”

“You what?”

Trent said, his confidence growing, “I heard he had a big cock. Now, I know the truth.”

"You need help, Karen." Marjorie stepped back. “You should talk to someone.”

Trent laughed. “I don’t need help, Marjorie. I like sex. You should try it sometime – maybe it’ll remove the stick from your ass.” Trent paused for a second. “The truth is I used Trent. I stalked him, I took his money, we had lots of sex, and then I left when things got too serious.”

Marjorie didn’t say a word, shaking her head as she turned around.

Trent watched Marjorie return to the group. She'd do the rest. Time to go home.

---

Chapter 6

‘I can’t believe I got laid.’ Sam said to himself as he floated through the parking lot. ‘And by Sam.’

It would make work awkward, but it wasn't like Sam would know. A flick of the wrist turned his sports car to life, its headlights peeking out and ready to go. Trent’s phone rang as soon as he pulled out of the parking lot. The name read – Karen McConnell.

He didn’t answer. Trent couldn’t speak in his normal voice, so he sent a text instead.

‘Can’t talk right now. Call you in twenty minutes.’

Karen replied with a text. ‘You know what you did. Call me right now, or you’ll be sorry.’

Trent did his best to make his voice sound normal. After a minute of practice, Trent hit redial.

“Hey Karen. I’ve been trying to reach you for months.”

“Trent? You don’t sound like yourself.” Karen’s voice sounded distant, like she had him on a speakerphone.

Trent coughed a couple of times. “Yeah. I’ve got a cold.”

Karen said, “I heard there’s something going around.”

Another voice broke in, “Save the pleasantries, asshole. We need to talk.”

Trent recognized the woman’s voice, “Bethany?” He forgot to mask his own.

Bethany said, “Come to 2323 Silverstone Avenue. We’re in the back near the service entrance. Be there in ten minutes.”

Trent said, “I can’t, Beth. I'm in the middle of something.”

Bethany didn’t sound amused. “We know about the bodysuit, dumbass. Who do you think sent it? If you ever want to take it off, you’ll come to this address. You’ve got fifteen minutes. Be here by then, or I’m destroying the bodysuit’s control mechanism.”

The phone went dead.

Trent reached for the zipper in his neck but found no Adam's apple. “What-the-fuck!”

He pressed hard on the accelerator.

A single car sat in the unlit parking lot. A woman in her thirties stood outside. “Nine minutes. Not bad. At least your fancy sports car is good for something other than a substitute for your tiny penis.”

“Good to see you too, Beth.”

Bethany wasn’t finished. “You look good in my dress.”

“Fuck off.”

When Trent took a step, Bethany held up a metal box. “If you come any closer, I’ll push this button.”

Trent stopped. “What does the button do?”

“What do you think?”

Trent looked down at his body. “I suppose it’s not anything good. Where’s Karen?”

“She’s safe.” Bethany stared at Trent. “Nice tits.”

"Screw you." Trent said, “What have you done to Karen? I know you hate her.”

“I don’t hate Karen. She’s young and you manipulated her.” Bethany scrunched her nose. "You were the one who promised fidelity.”

Trent pointed towards his body. “You did this because I cheated on you?”

Bethany shook her head. “I was once young and dumb, too. Back then, I thought you a good man who only needed a little encouragement to get past his insecurities. Instead, success poisoned you and turned you into a monster.”

“A monster?” Trent said, “I’m not the first guy to cheat on his wife. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”

Bethany said, “You’re apologizing to the wrong person, dumbass. I know what you did to Karen.”

Trent waved his hand. “What did I do to her?”

“I’ve seen the pictures.”

"What pictures?"

“Don’t test me, Trent. You have no idea how bad I want to push this button.” Bethany looked as pissed as Trent had ever seen her. “Admit what happened."

“Nothing happened…”

Bethany flipped a switch and put her finger on the button. “Last chance.”

Trent raised his hand. “I was angry. She wouldn’t listen. I want to see her.”

“That's not happening unless you look in a mirror.” Bethany shook her head, “Karen was a wreck when I found her. Can you believe when I found the bodysuit tech and told her my plan, she protected you? She blamed herself for everything so I devised a test to demonstrate your morality.”

“Come on, Beth.” Trent said, “Give me the controller. We can figure something out.”

Beth's eyes blazed at Trent. "I understand why she did it. I've made plenty of excuses for you over the years myself, but I’m stronger now and soon, Karen will be stronger too. We watched you at O’Malley’s on hidden camera. We got audio too. She saw the truth.”

“You recorded me?” Trent thought through the possibilities. “… the bar … the noise … no way… you’d need weeks to plan … you’d have to know where I was going.”

Bethany said, “That’s your problem, Trent. You think you’re the smartest person in every room. You think your intelligence and your team of lawyers can get you out of any situation. I put together a trail I knew you’d follow. And I had help.”

Shit. “Sam?”

Bethany’s face gleamed in the darkness, “They say ambitious men rule the world. If that is true, then I’m sure those men had good women behind them, pulling the strings.”

“This isn't funny. You’ve made your point.” Trent’s heart started to flutter. “Give me the controller, Beth.”

Bethany shook her head. “Men have been using their authority to force young women into bed since the beginning of time. When Karen told you it was over, you hit her, then forced her to have sex.” Bethany turned a knob on the device. “When I found out, I made a resolution to see justice done. Karen deserves a second chance, but you don’t deserve a third.”

Bethany pushed the button.

Trent managed a single step before falling to the ground. Millions of cells screamed in pain as the nanobots worked to make the changes permanent.

Bethany walked towards her car. “Trent Stephens is missing, and the main suspect will be Karen McConnell. Cameras captured her leaving his house earlier tonight, and she was seen driving Trent’s car. You did a thorough job ruining Karen’s reputation and made it impossible for her to find work. You tried to force her to come back but didn't think of the alternative -- revenge against an ex-lover is the oldest story in the book. Your lawyers protected you after you raped Karen, but you won’t get away from this. I'll make sure of it. Don’t forget who inherits your money. We’re separated, not divorced.”

Trent doubled over in pain as the changes took hold. “Fucking bitch.”

Bethany smiled as she tossed something on the ground next to Trent. "I brought your purse. Your apartment keys and ID are inside."

"You won't get away with this."

"Yes, I will." Bethany said as she opened her car’s door, lighting the car’s interior. “Happy New Year, Karen.”

Trent saw a a girl he didn't recognize staring at him from the passenger’s side window. She was young and blonde with studious looks. Tears streamed down her face.

“Karen?” Trent screamed as the reality of his horror dawned.

“ARRRRRGGGGHHH!”

The girl in the second bodysuit didn’t say a word. Trent saw a grim smile form on her face as Bethany’s car faded in the dark.