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The change was instantaneous. One second, Sarah’s mouth was hot and demanding on Karen’s neck, her hands masterfully stoking the fire in Karen’s—in Philip’s—borrowed body. The next, her entire demeanor shifted.

She stiffened. The expert, sensual movements ceased. Then, she pulled back, and the look in Sarah’s sharp blue eyes was no longer one of hungry familiarity. It was one of utter, profound confusion, rapidly cooling into dawning, mischievous comprehension.

“Whoa,” said Sarah’s voice, but the cadence was all wrong. It was higher, looser, tinged with a familiar, dumbfounded glee. “Dude. This is wild.”

Philip’s own arousal, a moment ago all-consuming, froze into a block of ice in his gut. He knew that tone. He’d heard it a thousand times before a prank went sideways.

“Jack?” Philip whispered, Karen’s husky voice barely audible.

Sarah’s—Jack’s—face broke into a wide, incredulous grin. “Phil? Is that you in the MILF? Holy shit, you hit the jackpot!” He looked down at Sarah’s hands, turning them over, then squeezed his own breasts through the sleek pantsuit jacket. “Okay, okay, older lady. Nice suit. Serious business vibes. But where are we?”

The shock receded, burned away by a sudden, white-hot spark of opportunity. Payback. For the dorm room, for the panic, for every insane scheme Philip had ever been dragged into. Karen’s body still hummed with unmet need, but a new, sharper energy surged alongside it.

Philip let Karen’s posture soften, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her expertly made-up face. He channeled every ounce of the sophisticated, confident woman he’d just been impersonated by. He let his borrowed hands, now steadier, glide up Jack’s arms in a perfect mimicry of Sarah’s possessive touch.

“Darling,” Philip purred, laying Karen’s voice thick with false, sultry concern. “You spaced out for a second there. Are you feeling alright?” He leaned in, brushing his lips against Jack’s ear, feeling him shiver in Sarah’s body. “You were just about to show me something… wonderful.”

Jack blinked, momentarily thrown by the performance. “I… uh… yeah? I mean, yeah! Sure!” He was clearly trying to play along, to be ‘Sarah,’ but he was utterly out of his depth. The subtlety, the unspoken language between lovers, was completely lost on him. He just knew a hot older woman in a barely-there dress was coming onto him.

Philip guided Jack’s hands back to Karen’s bare waist, then slowly, deliberately, brought one of Sarah’s hands up to cup Karen’s breast again. “You know how I love it when you take control,” he murmured, laying it on thick, watching Jack’s eyes go wide with a mix of panic and fascination.

Jack fumbled, his touch clumsy and over-eager compared to Sarah’s artistry. He groped at the soft flesh, his movements amateurish. It was all Philip could do not to laugh. The power dynamic had utterly flipped.

“You’re so eager tonight, sweetheart,” Philip cooed, stepping back slightly, letting the dress gape open. He saw Jack’s gaze lock onto Karen’s chest, his borrowed mouth hanging open slightly. “But you know what I really want.” He turned, with a sway of Karen’s hips that felt more natural now, and gestured to a discreet, velvet-lined drawer built into the closet wall. “My little surprise. The one from our trip to Nice.”

He pulled the drawer open. Inside, nestled on the velvet, was an array of tasteful, high-end silicone toys. He selected one—a sleek, substantial, realistic dildo in a deep aubergine shade. It was clearly quality, veined and shaped with an artist’s eye for detail.

Jack stared at it, then at Philip, comprehension dawning slowly, then all at once. “Oh, no way,” he breathed, a frat-boy grin splitting Sarah’s elegant features. “You’re not…”

Philip dropped the Karen act. His own smirk, so alien on Karen’s face, broke through. “Payback’s a bitch, Jack. Or in this case, a bitch with a strap-on.” He hefted the toy in his hand. “You wanted to explore? Let’s explore. You got to feel what it was like to have tits. Now you get to feel what it’s like to have them and get fucked with one of these.”

Jack’s bravado faltered for a second, a flicker of genuine uncertainty in Sarah’s eyes. But the inherent curiosity, the sheer insanity of the situation, won out. A wild, challenging light replaced the uncertainty. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” Philip said, his voice dropping back into his own cadence, though it still issued from Karen’s throat. “You’re in her girlfriend’s body. And I’m in the body of a woman who, let’s be honest, probably knows how to use this.” He took a step forward, backing Jack against the ottoman. “Think of it as… hands-on research. For the next time you try to seduce someone in a borrowed body.”

Jack laughed, a shaky, exhilarated sound. “You’re insane.”

“I learned from the best.” Philip’s heart was pounding, a frantic mix of terror, revenge, and a bizarre, twisted excitement. He used Karen’s free hand to push gently on Jack’s chest, and Jack, in Sarah’s body, sat down heavily on the ottoman, looking up at him with a mixture of defiance and anticipation.

Philip didn’t give him time to reconsider. With a confidence he absolutely did not feel, he hitched up the satin skirt of Karen’s dress, revealing the matching lace-top stockings and the soaked, black silk panties beneath. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and, maintaining eye contact with a wide-eyed Jack, slid them down Karen’s thighs and let them fall to the floor.

Then he knelt, the stockings whispering against the plush carpet. He positioned himself between Sarah’s—Jack’s—spread legs. With hands that only trembled slightly, he unfastened the trousers of the elegant pantsuit, pulling them and Sarah’s underwear down just enough.

He saw Jack swallow hard, Sarah’s throat working. The reality of the moment was settling on both of them, thick and electric in the perfumed air.

Philip lifted the dildo. He leaned forward, his face close to Jack’s. “Ready for your demo, ‘Sarah’?”

Before Jack could answer, Philip guided the smooth, silicone tip to the entrance of Sarah’s body. He saw Jack’s eyes slam shut, his hands gripping the edge of the ottoman. Then, with a slow, deliberate pressure born of sheer audacity, Philip pushed forward.

A sharp, punched-out gasp escaped Jack’s lips—a wholly feminine sound of shock and sensation. Philip watched, mesmerized and horrified, as the toy slid inch by inch into the tight, welcoming heat of Sarah’s vagina. He could feel the resistance, the clenching muscles, then the gradual, slick yield.

“Oh… fuck,” Jack choked out, his head falling back, Sarah’s silver hair mussed against the velvet of the ottoman. His knuckles were white where he gripped it. “Oh, god, Phil… it’s… it’s inside.”

Philip was transfixed. He was causing this. He was wielding this powerful, sensual body to deliver an experience to his best friend that was as much psychological warfare as it was physical. He began to move, shallow thrusts at first, watching the way Jack’s—Sarah’s—body jolted with each one.

“How’s it feel?” Philip asked, his voice a rough whisper.

Jack could only moan, a high, broken sound. His hips began to move involuntarily, meeting Philip’s thrusts, his face a mask of overwhelmed sensation. The revenge was sweet, but it was morphing into something else entirely—a shared, forbidden experiment at the very edge of their reality, both of them utterly lost in the borrowed flesh of two stunning, clueless women. The charity gala, the spell, their own bodies—all of it was forgotten, drowned out by the slick, rhythmic sound filling the luxurious closet.