You sigh as you walk across campus with your friend at your side. To everyone else, she looks like a normal student—casual clothes, easy stride, an amused smile—but you know what she really is. A living skinsuit. And worse, one who absolutely loves to tease you about it.

She walks just a little too close, glancing at you through her glasses, her tone light and playful as she makes offhand comments that only you understand. Every word seems carefully chosen to poke at the thoughts you’re trying to keep buried. You tell yourself to focus on classes, on the noise of students passing by, on anything except her—but she keeps drawing your attention back.

She stretches, bends slightly to adjust her shoe, then straightens with a knowing grin, fully aware of the effect she’s having. Each small movement feels intentional, like she’s daring you to imagine what it would be like to finally give in. Your steps slow, your breath catches, and the idea of wearing her—of feeling that strange, overwhelming closeness—creeps further into your mind.

She notices, of course. She always does. Leaning closer, she lowers her voice just enough that only you can hear. Her teasing isn’t loud or crude; it’s subtle, confident, and relentless. She knows you’re close to crossing a line, and she enjoys every second of the tension.

As you reach the edge of campus, the noise fades into the background. The choice sits heavy in your thoughts: keep walking and pretend this is just another day, or finally give in to the temptation she’s been nurturing all along—knowing that once you do, she’ll fall silent and still, and you’ll be left carrying the weight of what you’ve chosen.