It starts like any ordinary night, stepmom tucking her stepson into bed, smoothing the blanket, whispering something soft before turning off the light. But in the darkness, nothing feels ordinary anymore. He closes his eyes for a moment, only to open them again and see her; the same face, but wrong. The same body, but twisted. A smile stretched too wide, teeth glinting where comfort should be. He screams, and she rushes in, confused, asking what’s wrong. He points with trembling hands and whispers: “There’s a monster…it looks like you.” Again and again, the cycle repeats. Every time she leaves, the Doppelganger returns; silent, patient, wearing her features like a mask. The smile grows sharper. Her belly growls, low and unnatural, hungrier each time. Until finally, she doesn’t soothe him. She doesn’t explain away his fears. She becomes them. The Doppelganger takes over completely, her belly rumbling with unholy hunger, and his screams are swallowed whole. The house falls quiet, the night ending in vore. In the silence afterward, someone lingers in the hallway, a hand pressed against a shifting belly. Is it the real stepmom, horrified at what she’s done? Or is it still the Doppelganger, wearing her skin perfectly? The final smile flickers in the dark, leaving only questions, and the sound of something moving inside.
