# chapters

path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222222222222121221211211211211221212111
author_id: seuzz
title: Yo, Bro!
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"No, I can do it myself," you tell the fake Professor Blackwell. "But are you going to leave it up to me? I don't just mean the choice. I mean the tactics. Because Lucy doesn't know any middle-school kids, and I'll have to do a little shifting to get to one."<br/>
<br/>
"Jamie says you're the expert."<br/>
<br/>
"And I'd have to work with Eric."<br/>
<br/>
"No problem."<br/>
<br/>
"It might be a couple days. I'll have to scout out possibilities. Anything else?" You start to rise.<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," he says, so you sit again. "You have your pick, and you can make it a boy or a girl, suit your taste." His smile disgusts you. "But we need a certain <i>type.</i> A kid who'd be plausible as an adept to a magician."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Rules out Robert,</i> you think with a relieved sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, gotta be a kid who can be into black magic, willing to do nasty stuff to his friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I have to do nasty things to them?"<br/>
<br/>
"No worse than you've already done to your own friends." Again, the ugly smile.<br/>
<br/>
"You sure it can't be a high school kid," you ask, thinking of Braydon Delp. "Because I already know someone--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, has to be middle school." He blinks, for he seems to have startled himself. "Yes," he says. "Middle school. We can camouflage it as a job doing yard work."<br/>
<br/>
"Might be hard to arrange travel," you point out. "Middle school kids can't drive themselves."<br/>
<br/>
"Then that'll winnow down the possibilities." He glances at the clock. "I think I have class now."<br/>
<br/>
"You do," you say, and stand up again. "A class I'm in. I'll see you there. Ask me to stay after if you think of anything else."<br/>
<br/>
You shudder as you leave his office.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div> <br/>
"Hey guys, I gotta close up early," Eric calls into the annex, where his best "customers" are spread out.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the deal, Eric," Hugh calls back. "You're never open anymore. How do you expect to sell anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"Got an errand I have to run," Eric shrugs. "Can't help it."<br/>
<br/>
"We could watch the shop for you," Christian offers.<br/>
<br/>
"Gonna be a couple of hours," Eric says. "You can't close up for me."<br/>
<br/>
"How about you hire one of us," Christian offers. "Then we <i>could</i> close up for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, I can barely meet my own living expenses. Don't make enough to carry anyone else." Christian says something that's inaudible under the sound of papers being gathered up. "Make it up to you," Eric says. "I'll open early tomorrow and treat you to lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"If I wanted ptomaine poisoning I'd eat at the school," Christian yells back.<br/>
<br/>
You shift around one of the bookcases so you'll be out of sight when they exit. Lucy Vredenburg looks grotesquely out of place inside King Kong Komics. It's bad enough that you keep catching your own little brother scoping you out.<br/>
<br/>
He's here with his older brother--the golem of yourself--browsing through the comics. Fake-Prescott had kicked a little when you'd called, but cheered up when you gave him the excuse to come out to the shop while bringing Robert. "Eric says you won a drawing for a hundred dollars worth of free comics."<br/>
<br/>
"Again?" he'd exclaimed. "Except I didn't get anything the <i>last</i> time he called me out there for winning something." That was when Eric captured Joe, who had been under your mask at the time.<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. Just come out and bring Robert. Tell him he can have half of what you won."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I have to?" he'd whined. "If I'm going to get a hundred dollars worth of loot I want it for myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you just won a two hundred dollar drawing. Be out here by five."<br/>
<br/>
Eric had grumbled a little over your generosity, until you'd pulled ten twenties from Lucy's purse and pressed them on him. So now it's just the four of you--yourself, Eric, Will, and Robert--in the shop.<br/>
<br/>
Robert looks up as the others exit, and nudges Will. "We haven't picked out our winnings," the latter calls.<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme see what you got," Eric replies as he locks the door. Then he picks up the "disabler" tube and shambles over. You turn your back and close your eyes tight. "Okay, clear," Eric calls back.<br/>
<br/>
Comics tumble from Will's and Robert's nerveless hands, and they slowly collapse to the floor. <i>Much nicer than having to grab your brother,</i> you think. "Think Fane would give me one of those doohickeys," you ask Eric as he sets the disabler on a shelf. "Makes it a lot easier to get people."<br/>
<br/>
"I can ask. But you better hurry."<br/>
<br/>
You take a blank mask from your purse and put it to Robert's face. While it's inside him, you drag him into the back of Eric's shop. Quickly you pull off his socks and shoes and pants and shirt. You leave the underwear on, temporarily. No reason to get an eyeful of your brother's junk before you have to.<br/>
<br/>
Eric has gotten your own double disrobed as well, and you pull the mask off the golem. "Do I get to watch you change," Eric asks with a hopeful leer.<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't I leave enough toys at your place?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Cindy's sweet, but she's getting a little stale," Eric says. "Can you show me how to get masks on and off that thing you left?"<br/>
<br/>
It might be a good idea for Eric to know how to do that, you reflect. "I'll ask Hyde-White the next time he calls. Same as you can ask your boss about getting me one of those flashlights." You and Eric strike the deal with a handshake.<br/>
<br/>
The rest happens quickly. You wait for the mask to come out of Robert before putting the Will Prescott mask on him, and give him your old clothes to change into. Then you go into the very back to seal up Robert's mask, and pull off Lucy's clothes and Lucy's mask. You have to grimace a little as you put your new disguise to your face. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Son of a bitch," you mutter, and tap furiously at the keys of your laptop while sliding the mouse around. "What are you doing?" you shout at the nearby phone.<br/>
<br/>
"That pig's mine!" Shawn laughs, and his avatar turns to chase the fat little porker. He hits it; it squeals and tries to run, but bumps into a tree. He hits again, and it dies. "Aw, crap. No meat."<br/>
<br/>
"Serves you right! I got more hunger than you!" <br/>
<br/>
"I'da shared. You wouldn't. Oh shit, Robert, behind you!"<br/>
<br/>
Too late you hear the hiss; there's an explosion, and the screen turns red. You curse and hit the "restart" button, and materialize inside a shack. "Grab my stuff," you yell at Shawn. "I'll be back over there in--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on, Jeff is asking-- A creeper got him! I'm laughing my ass off!"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell him that if he installed that morphing mod on the server--"<br/>
<br/>
"And if your dad sprang for a headset you could tell him yourself. Oh, Jeff wants to know what you picked up at the comic book shop."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothin'. The guy had to close before we could--" You press a key, sending your avatar sprinting across the blocky landscape. "And Will was being a dick, telling me I couldn't--"<br/>
<br/>
"Will! Robert! Dinner!" That's your mother, calling from downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta go." You hurriedly sign off. "You got my stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I put your armor on myself. Gonna have to fight me to get it back."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna be on later?" You take the phone with you as you run out into the hall and down the stairs. <br/>
<br/>
"Hope so. Check in later, Jeff wants your help finishing that tower."<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna go find a cave. Okay, talk later." You hang up, for your dad is giving you a hard look from the end of the table. You slide into your seat, and your hand collides with Will's as you both reach for the beans at the same time. You give him a dirty look and grab the fried squash instead.<br/>
<br/>
"You boys finish your homework," your dad asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's Friday, Dad," Will says. "I've got all weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"So you won't have it hanging over you. Robert?"<br/>
<br/>
"I almost finished starting it."<br/>
<br/>
Your dad snorts. "There's gonna be some chores for you this weekend. Clear your schedules."<br/>
<br/>
You sink into your chair and eat mostly in silence. You can't help watching Will. He's such a sloppy eater, shoveling it in like-- "Robert, close your mouth when you chew," your mother chides.<br/>
<br/>
So here you are, back home after a couple of weeks of adventures you can't tell your parents about. And instead of things being back to normal, you're sitting in your brother's chair while something tall and stinky is sitting in yours. "Stop staring at me," Will growls at you.<br/>
<br/>
Your mom and dad do most of the talking, about their days and plans for the weekend. Housework. Yard work. It's going to be a challenge, getting away from them and finding a new disguise.<br/>
<br/>
It's going to be a big enough challenge getting a disguise anyway. You're not sure if you're relieved or displeased to learn that Robert does not hang out with any "bad kids" like Bob wants you to get. None of his close friends--Shawn Sellers, Jeff Mielke, or Mike McFarlin--are remotely into anything like "black magic." And the one guy he knows who might be--Casey Sennik--is a nasty little piece of work who bullies Robert and his friends. Trouble is, that makes him the ideal candidate for a two-sided play: a plausible disguise <i>and</i> a revenge play on Robert's behalf.<br/>
<br/>
Probably it would be easier to target Traci Small, a girl with pink hair who hangs out with proto-stoners like Bruce Mumaw. Robert barely knows her, but she <i>looks</i> like she could be a witch in embryo.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222222222221212212112112112112212121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Self-Sibling Rivalries
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's only when you start thinking about how to handle another switch that you decide to make it with Casey Sennik. You've no idea how to get close to Traci Small, but you've already got a good notion of how to trap Casey.<br/>
<br/>
"How many comic books am I supposed to be giving away," Eric complains when you call him later that night. "Sweetie, not now."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you calling me 'sweetie'?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Not you, dude, I'm talking to Cindy. Can I put her on the phone, you tell her I've got a headache or something?"<br/>
<br/>
You snicker. "She wouldn't recognize my voice. Be careful what you wish for, right? But you didn't give me <i>anything</i> like two hundred bucks of comic books tonight. So call this guy--last name is S-E-N-N-I-K, find his number online, his first name is Casey, tell him he won a drawing."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't <i>have</i> drawings!"<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't know that. Tell him if he's there tomorrow at, uh, five o'clock, you'll give him a hundred dollars worth of comics and shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't we do it later, closer to closing time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, how about eight? I'll set it up on my end."<br/>
<br/>
A minute later you rap on Will's door, and press your ear to it. You blink at this instinctive act of eavesdropping: <i>Little twerp does this all the time.</i> At the sound of footsteps you pull back.<br/>
<br/>
The door opens, and Will glares darkly down at you. "What do <i>you</i> want?"<br/>
<br/>
"Spend some big brother-little brother time with me tomorrow?" you breathlessly ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Stuff yourself." He shuts the door, but you wedge it open with your foot. "Get out, I'm talking to--"<br/>
<br/>
"How's Tilley? Does he still have amnesia?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes pop. "Shit. How did you know about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I'm really you. I had to switch with Robert today at the comic book shop. You weren't paying attention, 'cos you never do. But I need to move and you need to help me. And you'll want to help me because--"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe I don't!" He yanks you inside by the neck and throws you on the bed. Then he kicks the door shut and jumps on you. "Got you where I want you now!" he shouts, and pounds at your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Ow! Quit it!"<br/>
<br/>
"And what'll you do? Tell mom and dad you're beating yourself up?"<br/>
<br/>
"You want me outta your hair!"<br/>
<br/>
"I want you right here! I can't do this to the real--"<br/>
<br/>
"Dad!" you holler. "Mom! Will's--!"<br/>
<br/>
He stifles you. "You don't shut up I'm gonna punch you in the nuts. Hell, I'll do that anyway."<br/>
<br/>
But at the sound of approaching footsteps he leaps off you. You scramble up, breathing heavily. The door flies open and your dad comes in.<br/>
<br/>
"Dad, Will was--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Robert's being a dickw--!"<br/>
<br/>
Your dad raises a hand, and you both fall silent. "Is this something I really need to hear?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanted to ask Will if we could do something together tomorrow, just the two of us, like brothers!" you whine.<br/>
<br/>
Will turns very red as your dad turns to him. "That sounds like a great idea, Will," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow night, we could see a movie, get something to eat?" you suggest.<br/>
<br/>
Your dad jerks his head, indicating you should leave. You hop from the room, but not so fast you can't hear your dad's words to your big brother. "I'll pay for it too. As long as Robert comes home happy," he adds in a low growl.<br/>
<br/>
Might be a problem if Robert comes back with a 24-hour blank spot. But that'll be golem-you's problem.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pass an anxious Saturday morning and afternoon doing chores in preparation for Thanksgiving, which is coming on Thursday; you occupy it with a half-assed job cleaning your bedroom, helping with laundry, dusting, washing windows. You get it light, for your "older brother" has to help your dad with the gutters and the lawn. <br/>
<br/>
You're done by mid-afternoon, though, and jerk off online with Shawn and Jeff. They're pretty good guys, you suppose. Smart, well-mannered, pretty responsible. A lot more responsible than you and your friends were at that age, and you're a little disconcerted to see how much better Robert is at school work than you were. You try telling yourself that you can get his homework done more quickly because you already know it all, but Robert's memories tell you he'd be almost as fast as you anyway. He'd be the fair-haired boy with your dad if he wasn't always getting in trouble by getting into your stuff.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of which, you make sure that Will catches you at least once pawing through his chest of drawers. He kicks your ass and sends you howling back to your room.<br/>
<br/>
At around seven, though, he knocks on your door. "Ready to head out," he mutely asks.<br/>
<br/>
He's also fairly mute on the drive out to Eric's, but accepts your instructions. "Robert's not gonna remember anything of the last twenty-four hours," you tell him. "But we're going to do the switch back at the comic shop, so he shouldn't notice any kind of space jump. Take him straight to a movie afterward, and don't push him around if he starts asking how come it's Saturday instead of Friday."<br/>
<br/>
"Little dork probably doesn't know any better anyway," Will grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Do I really hate him that much?" you ask. It's bothered you more than a little to be on the receiving end of what you've so often dished out to your kid brother.<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says after a pause that was just a little too long. "Just, you know, brother stuff." He shrugs. <br/>
<br/>
You fold your arms and slouch. Despite returning to your family in a different way, it felt good to be home, and already you're missing it again. You're going to miss Robert, too, after being so vividly close to him. You blink and think of Frank and Joe. Why couldn't you and Robert have been as close as them?<br/>
<br/>
For once, there are extra customers in Eric's shop, and for once Christian and his friends aren't there. You wander around for a bit, killing time, but wind up at the front with Eric. "What's with you and the kiddos?" he asks as he leans in close.<br/>
<br/>
"Bob's idea. You know anything about him?" Eric shakes his head, and makes a face. "Well, I'm supposed to do something with them."<br/>
<br/>
"Kinda squicky," he says. "But that's Fane's business."<br/>
<br/>
Not for the first time, you wonder how much worse Fane will turn out to be than Patterson as a boss.<br/>
<br/>
And then you think: What if Patterson, who will also be working for Fane, winds up <i>being</i> your boss?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A few minutes before eight, when the shop has otherwise emptied, the door opens and Casey Sennik comes in, in the company of a stylishly dressed woman. His mother, presumably.<br/>
<br/>
Every fiber in your body flinches. Casey is his nemesis, like The Molester and Patterson and David Kirkham were yours at Westside, and all rolled into one. He's small, smaller than Robert or his friends, but struts with his chin up and out. But he's not just physically tough. He's a master of psychological abuse. You tense as his eyes light on you.<br/>
<br/>
Thank goodness his mother is there, for he ignores you and goes up to talk to Eric. The shop owner shakes his hands and tells him to look around, pick out whatever he wants. He wanders off to a distant shelf while his mom stands patiently at the front, close to Eric.<br/>
<br/>
Gonna be tricky with her around. Luckily, Eric is on it. He quietly takes out the disabler; you duck behind a shelf and close your eyes. When you look out again, she is swaying lightly on her feet, looking dazed. Eric swiftly moves over to Casey, laying a hand on his shoulder. Again, you squeeze your eyes shut. "Will," Eric calls.<br/>
<br/>
You hurry over, as does your big brother, responding to his name, and the two of you bundle Casey into the "interrogation room." "Can you keep his mom quiet?" you call back to Eric.<br/>
<br/>
"I just gotta keep flashing this at her," he says as he slips on some sunglasses. He also locks the front door.<br/>
<br/>
Inside the steel-lined room you put a blank mask onto Casey, then struggle out of your clothes while ordering Will out of his. He makes a face as you order him into Robert's clothes. You pull Casey's clothes off him: baggy trousers and three layers of baggy shirts and baggy jacket. Heavy shoes (good for kicking, as Robert knows too well), fingerless gloves, and a cap he likes to wear backwards. As the mask comes out of him, you order Will onto the ground and pull his mask from Robert. You put it on Casey, and order your shifted golem to dress. "Hurry," you hiss as you scoop up Casey's mask and clothes. "Gotta get Robert into the shop before he wakes up!"<br/>
<br/>
You hurry into the bathroom, lock the door, and spread out the loot associated with your next disguise. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So are you happy with what you got," your mom asks on the way back home.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you impatiently reply, and twist down lower in the passenger-side seat of the SUV.<br/>
<br/>
"We were there quite awhile. It didn't feel that long."<br/>
<br/>
"No." You twist at your cap and gaze distractedly out the window at the passing neon lights of the business district.<br/>
<br/>
"It was also very nice of the owner to stay open for us. When did you put your name in for that drawing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I didn't. Andrew must have put my name in."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you should share them with Andrew then."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Finally,</i> you think when she says nothing more. <i>Thanks for finally shutting up.</i><br/>
<br/>
But then you have to fill the silence. "Can I get an afterschool job?"<br/>
<br/>
She turns. "Doing what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Just something." You twist around some more. "It's nice getting lots of stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"That it is," she says guardedly.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122222222222212122121121121121122121211111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Magician and His New Apprentice
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Your mother said you were talking about getting some kind of afterschool work," your dad says the next morning. He's having bran flakes and orange juice and reading the Sunday paper. You're slurping down Cheerios and paging through one of the comic books you picked up at Eric's. It doesn't hold your interest--yours or Casey's--but it's something to have at hand. "We could increase your allowance if you did more work around here."<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna get something else," you mutter, and hunch a little more over your bowl. "Like yard work or somethin'. I dunno."<br/>
<br/>
"Most of the people around here have a professional yard service."<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, they would. Michael Sennik is a loan officer at one of the banks, and the Senniks live in a big house in a very nice neighborhood. "So I'd find something somewhere else," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," you impatiently sigh. "Somehow. Like, Andrew's talking about--"<br/>
<br/>
"Does this have to do with Andrew?"<br/>
<br/>
That's Andrew Stowell, Casey's best friend. "Well, kinda," you say defensively. "He was talking about finding something to do, like afterschool work or weekend work, and I just thought--" You shrug, and scoop some more cereal into your mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you ready for that kind of responsibility?" Michael Sennik's tone is lightly skeptical.<br/>
<br/>
You hunch further. "I could try. Don't you want me trying?"<br/>
<br/>
"I would, actually. But jumping into something-- It wouldn't be good if you decided you were bored and would rather hang out with Andrew or Mike, and dumped it. Maybe you should work <i>up</i> to it."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh heavily, as yourself and as Casey both. It figures his dad would peg his son as a sloppy ne'er-do-well. Not that Casey is a problem child at home. But he's practically an only child, and you sense that he is slightly spoiled. And incipient puberty has left him truculent and restless. Truculent and restless like his wiener, which rises and falls at the slightest provocation, at even the <i>lack</i> of provocation. "Well, can I look around, keep my eyes and ears open? If nothing comes up--" Milk dribbles off your spoon. "I'm just tired of, you know, goofing off."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. Well, nothing wrong with staying alert. You know, though, that, uh-- You might have to dress up a little nicer."<br/>
<br/>
You drop your chin shrug.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Yes, Casey looks very sloppy, though it's a look he actually takes some care over. So you took care over it this morning, before coming out to breakfast. You'd showered--fighting down the embarrassing erection that rose under the hot water--and putting together another iteration of the eternal ensemble: heavy, oversize trousers; an oversize t-shirt; a heavy plaid shirt that hangs to the knees and over your wrists even after rolling them up; the heavy jacket; the Doc Martens almost hidden under the trouser cuffs. They're clothes his brother--the adored older brother who is now in the Army--left behind. Casey thinks they help make up for his stupid "baby face."<br/>
<br/>
After breakfast you trudge into the bedroom and twist the ballcap backward onto your head. It keeps the long curly bangs out of your face, and the neck-length curls of hair behind your ears. You pull on the fingerless pleather gloves and saunter out to the garage, to pedal away on the dirt bike. Some of Casey's trophies--including the baseball glove he'd bullied off Robert Prescott--hang on the handle bars.<br/>
<br/>
Casey's a good place to work from, for he doesn't live that far from Blackwell's. You only need to take a shortcut through some undeveloped woodland to emerge on Farm Road only a mile or so from the professor's villa. You stare at your destination dully as you drop your bike by the front gate and saunter up the walk to the door. You hesitate before ringing the bell, for you remember the warning you'd given Carson and James when (as Delp) you were here before.<br/>
<br/>
You have to ring it a second time before the door opens. "Wanna buy some band candy?" you ask the fat man who answers.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," he says. "Not in the market." He starts to close the door.<br/>
<br/>
"How about a black cat? Magic wand? Evil powders that turn your enemies into frogs?"<br/>
<br/>
He yanks the door back open, to stare at you with an equal mix of astonishment and fear. "What did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't wanna buy anything, you got anything to sell? All the kids say you're, like, an evil wizard."<br/>
<br/>
"Do they? What's your name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Casey Sennik, but my really close friends call me Will Prescott." You hold out your arms. "So what do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares, then opens the door. You push past him. The atrium and hallway are dark, floored and paneled with oak. "Quick work, Mr.--" Blackwell says, then pauses, as though deeply unsure he's heard you correctly. "Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I don't fuck around." The atmosphere of the house makes your nerves prickle. You wipe your nose with the back of a sleeve. "You got any cigarettes or anything? I can't smoke in front of my folks but--" You jump as the door slams behind you. "Did I come at a bad time?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But like I said, I'm surprised. It's going to take me awhile to get used to all this."<br/>
<br/>
He gestures you to follow him down the hall, and he leads you through a tall arch into a library. The walls are very high, lined to the ceiling with bookshelves. Three heavy desks sit in the middle of the floor, each stacked with a pile of books. French doors on the far side let in a lot of light, which still does nothing to dispel the oppressive gloom.<br/>
<br/>
You flinch at the sound of a discordant clacking sound; in the corner are a pair of grandfather clocks, set perpendicular to each other, and ticking out of rhythm. The shelves are punctuated by alcoves holding stuffed animals. A shiver runs up your back, and you turn slowly. There's an alcove just behind you, occupied by something that looks like a hairless monkey. It has a single eyeball in the middle of its forehead, and it bares razor-sharp fangs. "Sit down, Prescott," Blackwell says.<br/>
<br/>
"Casey," you correct him, and hop onto one of the desks, sitting cross-legged. "Only 'Prescott' I know is a sad little douche at my school. I hear rumors about his brother, though. Works for a big-ass company called 'Fane'." You drum your knuckles impatiently on the desktop.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. You really get into character, don't you?" he dryly says. You shrug. "But try to be professional, get me?"<br/>
<br/>
You hide your smirk by rubbing your nose in your sleeve again. Poor Bob is just having a hell of a time getting inside of Blackwell, it sounds like.<br/>
<br/>
"First of all, how old is--" He gestures at you. "This kid?"<br/>
<br/>
"Thirteen. Gonna be fourteen in a couple of months," you add.<br/>
<br/>
"He looks younger than that."<br/>
<br/>
"And you look fatter than--"<br/>
<br/>
"But he sounds like he's got the right personality. What's he like?"<br/>
<br/>
"Bully. Pushes kids around." You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
You lean back. Not a question Casey could answer. You can, though. "Because he wants to be taken seriously. That crack about looking young--" You flip him off. "He's got relatives that still give him Lego sets for his birthday, and he hates it. He hasn't even got peach fuzz yet, but--" You grimace and shift. "His little peter's already got a mind of its own. He's into boobs and porn and pictures of pussy and he likes drawing them in this sketchbook that he's got hidden in his closet."<br/>
<br/>
"So he wants to be older?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, yeah! Or at least older looking. Some of his friends are already--"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah!" Blackwell's eyes light up hungrily. "Would he like to <i>be</i> some of these friends?"<br/>
<br/>
You stare back at him. <i>Where is he going with this?</i> "Look, I went to a lot of trouble to worm myself into the life of this little prick. If you're asking if I want to switch into one of his friends--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm asking if this kid would."<br/>
<br/>
Your eye twitches. "You want <i>me</i> as this kid working for you, or are you auditioning Casey to see if you want <i>him</i> working for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just answer my question."<br/>
<br/>
You stare hard, but have to blink and withdraw first. Would Casey Sennik like to switch places with--<br/>
<br/>
With his best friend Andrew, who has a girlfriend? Your cock throbs. Stephanie is already beautiful and hot. If you got in Andrew's place she'd be <i>your</i> girlfriend, and you could try talking her into-- You gulp.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe Michael Stivale, who already looks like he's in high school? Big, strong Michael, who hasn't got a girlfriend but could probably have one if he wasn't still kind of a doofus?<br/>
<br/>
Maybe the Rush twins, who are track stars and have girls always flirting with them?<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe one of the girls, so you could play with their breasts and finger their pussies?<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you gasp. "He could go for that."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Then he's perfect."<br/>
<br/>
"So do you want me to bring him out here and--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not. <i>You</i> are going to play him, and <i>you</i> are going to study with me, and <i>you</i> --" Blackwell pulls out a heavy book and plops it on the desk. "You as <i>him</i> are going to learn how to make masks, and make victims of some of his friends."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at the book. It's the <i>Libra Personae.</i> What's it doing back here?<br/>
<br/>
"I already know how to--"<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott does, but this kid doesn't. As him, you're going to learn."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I told you to. Now, can you get a job working here? After school is best, but weekends would work too. We got the year if we need it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>A whole year as Casey Sennik?</i> You rub your mouth. "Might be hard. I already mentioned getting an after school job to my dad, and he seemed kind of not keen on it."<br/>
<br/>
"I have methods at my disposal that could convince him."</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222222222222121221211211211211221212111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Dumb Kids
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hey Andrew! Your mom says--!" You pull up short as you walk into your best friend's bedroom. "Oh. Hey, Stephanie."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie McLean smiles back at you. She might not be the greatest beauty in the world--she's too young to wear makeup, and her complexion is splotchy--but she has long, soft hair and wide eyes, and a smile that-- Your guts turn to Jell-O and slide into your cock, swelling it inside the vast folds of your trousers. She's sitting at the computer, real close to Andrew, who smirks lightly back at you.<br/>
<br/>
You jump onto his unmade bed. "You look nice, Stephanie. Are those your church clothes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some people just <i>like</i> to dress nice," Andrew shoots back.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, right.</i> Andrew is in jeans and a black hoodie, his dark hair bristling out from under his ball cap. Unlike yours, it's turned brim forward. "So what are you guys doing?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Just goofing off on the computer," Andrew says.<br/>
<br/>
You crane your neck to see. With Stephanie here, it's too much to hope it's porn, and it isn't. Just Wikipedia. "Why are you wasting your time on that crap?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're reading about stuff," Stephanie says, and snuggles up closer to Andrew. "Reading together. Don't you like to read about stuff, Casey?"<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't know how to read," Andrew retorts.<br/>
<br/>
You tense all over. <i>Just because the fucker gets straight A's without even trying, while you have to bust your ass just to-- Okay, you don't actually bust your ass at all, you hate doing homework, but even if you tried super hard you know you couldn't get better than B's. But that's no reason he has to say shit about you.</i> "Nah, it's just boring. Come on, let's go over to a park or something, kick a ball around."<br/>
<br/>
But they ignore you, and murmur to each other, and Andrew clicks on the mouse, sending the browser to another Wikipedia page.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh deeply and look around. Andrew's got all those academic ribbons and trophies, from spelling bees and science fairs and writing contests--Oh God, how he bragged on that last one, his most recent win--and even a few sports trophies from when he was on the soccer team last year. He's bigger than you, taller and a little stronger. Oh, you could take him in a fight, because you know how to fight and he doesn't. But you let him win when you do tussle, because--<br/>
<br/>
Well, fuck it, because he'd get pissed if he didn't win. Fucker's so used to having everything go his way.<br/>
<br/>
You bounce a little on the bed, but they still sit with their backs to you. "Is that all you guys are going to-- Oh, alright." You scramble over to join them, but there are only two chairs, so you try sitting on the edge of the desk. Andrew pushes you off with a glare. "Why don't you let me in," you whine.<br/>
<br/>
"Because you'd be bored. Why don't you go find Michael?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Stivale," you snort derisively. "I'll see him tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"You'll see us tomorrow, too."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh hey, did I tell you about all those free comic books I got yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh, comic books," Andrew says dismissively, but he does look over at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! There was this drawing at King Kong Komics, for a hundred dollars worth of free comics--"<br/>
<br/>
"You got a <i>hundred dollars of free comics?</i>" Andrew gapes.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" You bounce on your feet. "They're back at my place, and if you come over you can--"<br/>
<br/>
"What did you get? You can bring 'em to school tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with now?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're busy." Andrew turns back to the computer, and snuggles up to Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
A hot flare shoots up inside you. Hardly realizing what you're doing, you grab the cap off Andrew's head. He whirls. You laugh, loudly and desperately, and dodge for the door as he jumps up. "Got your-- Oh, crap!" You run from the room, sprinting hard, as he thunders after you. You get to the front door, but he's on you before you can get it open. "Okay okay, you-- Ow!" He grasps your wrist and wrenches it back, and pulls his cap from you. But he doesn't let go of your hand. He twists it further.<br/>
<br/>
Boiling anger explodes in you, and you punch him back. But you're hitting with your wrong hand, and his hoodie is soft and thick, and he just steps back from your blow, releasing you. You charge, but he dodges, and grabs your own cap. "You stupid-- Give it back!"<br/>
<br/>
But he holds it above his head. "Tomorrow," he jeers. "At school."<br/>
<br/>
"Give it back or I'll--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine." He tosses it at your feet. "If you're going to be a baby about it."<br/>
<br/>
"You're such a--!" You catch yourself in time, for his mother will be nearby. You glare at him, tears of fury stinging your eyes. "Just go back to Stephanie!" He gloats at you. You scoop your cap up.<br/>
<br/>
And he grabs you. You try twisting away, but he holds you tight, and puts his mouth to your ear. "Deanna likes you," he whispers.<br/>
<br/>
You freeze. He releases you, to gloat down at you some more. "Yeah, she likes you," he repeats. "Maybe if you cleaned up a little, she'd--" He grins, and his eyes glint.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care," you snap, and jam your cap on your head. "I'll see you tomorrow." The door bangs into your foot as you pull it open, and you tumble rather than walk outside. You slam it behind you and stalk back to your bike.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Why is Andrew so stupid?" you yell at Michael Stivale, and throw the ball to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Andrew's not stupid," he calls back. "He's the smartest guy in our school." He throws the ball back.<br/>
<br/>
It smacks firmly in your glove. (Robert Prescott's glove. Your old glove, which you gave him a year ago.) "No, he's <i>stupid.</i> Him and Stephanie, I mean." You hurl the ball hard.<br/>
<br/>
Michael has to dive to catch it. It's cold outside, but he's dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt, showing hairy legs and muscles. People think he's in high school. Only a year ago, he was as small and hairless as Casey. He laughs. "You sayin' Stephanie makes him stupid?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's stupid if he--" You sniff back the snot that the cold air has made run. "She's always at his place."<br/>
<br/>
"She likes him."<br/>
<br/>
"Duh!" You catch the ball again, but finger it a bit before returning it. "Does Deanna like me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Deanna Miller?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you know?"<br/>
<br/>
Your chest tightens. Deanna isn't like Stephanie, she hasn't got big boobs and a soft face. She's small and perky, just a little girl, basically. It's humiliating that Andrew gets a girl like Stephanie, and you're stuck with a girl who still wears frilly little clothes and likes to put ribbons in her hair. Except that you're <i>not</i> stuck with her because-- "Well, does she?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. What makes you think she does?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you mutter back, and toss the ball. Stupid Andrew was probably just fucking with you.<br/>
<br/>
"So who cares? Do <i>you</i>?" He laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"No." You twinge all over. You <i>don't</i> care about Deanna and whether she likes you, you hope she doesn't, because then you wouldn't have to think about whether--<br/>
<br/>
All your mental machinery seizes up, but you still expertly catch the ball. "What about you? Are there any girls that <i>you--?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I don't care. <i>You</i> care, though. I can tell!"<br/>
<br/>
You grimace as you throw the ball back. It's so hard thinking about all this, it makes you so confused, it's like there's a dog and a cat inside you, chasing and fighting each other when you think about-- "I wanna go home now," you say, and gesture that he should keep the ball.<br/>
<br/>
Michael shrugs, but trots up. "You still got homework?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Call me with the answers when you get them."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you call Jeff Mielke when you get home. He squirms and argues, but you press him mercilessly, and he finally gives up the answers on the math and English assignments. You snicker over them, and then get angry. <i>No wonder Casey still isn't doing well in his classes,</i> you fume. <i>Not with Jeff feeding him lots of bad answers mixed in with the good. Fucker is sneakier than he looks.</i> You correct many of the mistakes--though you leave enough in to make things look plausible--and pass them along to Michael. Then you flop on the bed, your cap covering your face.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You're a dumbass, Sennik,</i> you think to yourself. <i>Even your friends think you're a dumbass, which is how come Andrew is always pushing you around and why Michael lets you bully the answers out of losers like Mielke for him while keeping his own hands clean.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, and I'll show them,</i> he shouts back. <i>We'll show them, with that book.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Shut up. You're not even here. I could get rid of you. I could. I could tell Bob that I changed my mind about using you. Andrew is smart and he's also mean, except he's mean in the classroom instead of in the halls and gym. He'd also make a good "candidate" for what Bob wants.</i><br/>
<br/>
Except you don't know what he wants, and he's already said that Casey is perfect. <i>Yeah, make me good,</i> Casey pleads.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You don't deserve it. You deserve to be a victim. You already are one. You've got this great house and nice parents and your brother--</i> You twinge. <i>Your brother is awesome and doesn't deserve to have a little prick like you--</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm not a prick,</i> he cries. <i>It's just so hard!</i><br/>
<br/>
You feel the hot tears on your cheek. <i>I know. I remember the eighth grade too. But you're not going to be better if I'm running your life. I've got a feeling I'm going to fuck it up really hard.</i></span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222222222221212212112112112112212121111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Dumb Kids, Part 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Miiiil-ky! Miiiiiiilll-ky!" you chant. "Milky lehhh-ehgs!" Jeff Mielke flinches and backs away. You pull the hard rubber ball behind your ear and grin as the pale flesh of his thighs quivers. They are covered with red welts, but there are still lots of white places where you can raise more.<br/>
<br/>
Something hard catches you in the shoulder, and you wheel. Stivale is grinning at you. "Son of a bitch!" you yell at him.<br/>
<br/>
A sharp whistle sounds. "Sennik, you're out," Coach Pensey calls. "Rest of the period."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck--?"<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna try for detention?" He glowers at you.<br/>
<br/>
You spin back at Mielke and hurl the hard sphere at him. He tries diving to the side, but he's too slow, and the ball ricochets off his thigh with a satisfying <i>WHOCK!</i> "You're still in," you jeer at him as he tries to escape to the sidelines. "I was out, so you're still in."<br/>
<br/>
You trot over to the side to join Shane Bish--the first guy you'd busted off the other team--but Coach Pensey redirects you to the corner with orders to keep quiet and to yourself until the bell. That doesn't stop you from hopping up and down to catch Andrew's attention. You jab a finger at Mielke. Andrew grins, and with cat-like cruelty begins to circle the designated prey. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The start of third period: Shawn Sellers has his ear buds in and is bopping his head hard to the beat of whatever he's listening to. You drop into the desk in front of him with a snort and yank one of them out of his ear. "What are you listening to," you demand of him as you screw it into your own ear.<br/>
<br/>
He just gives you a dirty look.<br/>
<br/>
"This is gay," you sneer. "Why do you listen to gay music?"<br/>
<br/>
"What is it?" Jordan Rush cuts in from the next row. He nods his chin at Shawn. Shawn pulls the ear bud away from you and passes it and the iPod over to the other boy. Jordan tucks it into his ear, listens a moment, and rocks more gently to the same beat. "This is cool." He checks the display, and gives it an appraising smile before passing it back to Shawn. He ends by giving you a narrow glance.<br/>
<br/>
Jordan is a nice guy, and one of the school's most popular kids. Him and his twin brother, Jason, are golden blonde track stars, and you don't fuck with them.<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Quincey calls the class to order, and Jordan turns to the front. You turn back to Shawn and briefly stare gleaming daggers at him. He gazes back impassively. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At lunch you hunch at the cafeteria table, elbows on your thighs, hands between your knees, chin only inches above the untouched food on your tray. You are trembling slightly as you stare between Michael and Shane at the table beyond, where you can see Traci Small. <br/>
<br/>
Traci is not beautiful, but she's slim and impudent. She wears dark eyeliner, and her thin blonde hair is inexpertly dyed with faint pinks and greens and purples. She always holds her head back and her chin up, usually to point the stem of the sucker she'll have in her mouth at whoever has incurred her displeasure.<br/>
<br/>
No, she's not beautiful, and usually you don't pay any attention to her. But today, for some reason, she is fascinating, and you can't wrench your eyes off her. Maybe it's because she was an identity you had briefly toyed with taking at Schuyler Middle School. <i>What would it have been like to have the other end of that sucker in </i>your<i> mouth?</i><br/>
<br/>
But, you're probably more fascinated because-- You groan. <i>God, you hate the hormones.</i> You can't look away, even though the sight of her has you on the verge of losing control of yourself. <i>It stings.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Stop fondling yourself," Andrew sneers, and peers down at you with an expression of disgust. As he's sitting straight and you're bent, he seems very tall. "Go get me some more milk."<br/>
<br/>
"Get it yourself. I'm busy."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, fondling yourself. If they gave grades for that--"<br/>
<br/>
"I've caught <i>you</i> fondling yourself, Stowell," Michael chortles from across the table. Andrew glares back, and dark spots form in his cheek. Michael's braces glitter as he grins at Andrew. "I saw who you were looking at as you did it, too."<br/>
<br/>
Shane snickers, and looks between Michael and Andrew and you. You also perk up. This is a good distraction, and your peter droops. It's not fun thinking about Andrew fondling himself.<br/>
<br/>
Michael and Andrew continue to stare at each other, but neither says anything. Your attention drifts back to Traci, but the spell has been broken. But she notices your stare, and gives you a dirty look before leaning to the side to whisper to Anil Bose, who is sitting next to her. His eyes flick in your direction, and you look between them. They look away, but a few moments later, having quickly finished eating, they depart the cafeteria.<br/>
<br/>
You're jerked back to attention as Andrew jostles you. He rises and stalks away. You look back at Michael, who grins and digs back into his own lunch. "Who was he looking at?" you ask in a low voice, and lean across the table.<br/>
<br/>
Michael blinks, and then his eyes glitter. "You," he snickers.<br/>
<br/>
You jerk back, and look with dumbfounded shock at Andrew's retreating back. Shane and Michael cackle and shove each other. "Oh, fuck you," you yell at them, and shove your tray across the table at Michael. He grins as he pulls it up next to his, and starts eating from it.<br/>
<br/>
You stomp out of the cafeteria. You're just past the door when an arm closes around your neck and swings up against the cinderblock wall. Bruce Mumaw stares coldly down at you with hooded eyes, and his long brown hair falls forward to brush his jaw. "Keep your eyes off Traci," he says in a guttural voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, is she your girlfriend now?" you sneer back. "I'll look at whoever I want."<br/>
<br/>
He shoves you. He's bigger than you, and stronger, even though he looks and acts like a stoner. But you don't care. There's no holding back, as you did with Andrew yesterday, and you swing a fist. A hard shock runs all the way up your arm as you connect with his chin, and he falls back with grunt, then lunges at you. Excited shouts break out as your tear and grapple at each other.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You slouch in the chair in the school's outer office, waiting for the principal to get done with Bruce. Then it will be your turn. You might get detention, but you're not worried. You'll only have to show your parents Bruce's picture in last year's yearbook, and they'll totally believe that the fight was his fault.<br/>
<br/>
No, the real problem is that now you're late for fifth period, which is where you need to be if you're going to set up that job with Blackwell. He's coming out to the school, to speak to Mrs. Bradley's class about hiring a student to work in his library. You're going to volunteer. He's going to be there now, wondering angrily where <i>you</i> are.<br/>
<br/>
So when the principal calls you in, you are very polite and contrite and fervently insist that you want to be a good student, and speaking of which shouldn't you be getting back to English class? Mr. Oldbrooke cocks a skeptical eyebrow, and instead of giving you a hall pass he accompanies you back.<br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, Blackwell is at the front of the room. "Ah," he drawls as you and the principal come in. "It appears we have a tardy student. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so hasty." His eye is very dark.<br/>
<br/>
You blink rapidly, and shrink back, bumping into Mr. Oldbrooke. "Sit down, Casey," Mrs. Bradley says. "You haven't missed anything."<br/>
<br/>
"But he has," Blackwell says. "It wouldn't be fair. Young man, would you be interested in taking an after school job?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"It would be library work. I have a very large library at my house, and it needs sorting and cataloging. For compensation, I would provide free tutoring for your school work."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, that's the job offer the two of you had hatched for him to propose to your English class, and for you to accept.</i> "Oh, that sounds excellent!"<br/>
<br/>
The class breaks into guffaws, maybe because Casey is the <i>last</i> student to sincerely take such a job, and maybe because your voice cracked on the word "excellent."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell bows slightly, and arches an eyebrow. "In that case, would you be willing to share? I've already taken a volunteer."<br/>
<br/>
He looks back into the classroom, and you follow his eye. Stephanie McLean looks back at you, with a rather ghastly grin spreading over her face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I shouldn't have skipped," Andrew fumes, and slams his locker shut. "That shoulda been <i>me--</i>" He shoves you. "Go tell that guy that I want the job."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need it!" you shout back.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know anything about library work. You can't even hold a book right side up."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need tutoring! He's not paying, he's only--"<br/>
<br/>
"Still, it would be me and Stephanie."<br/>
<br/>
She's standing nearby, still grinning that rather sick-looking smile. "I don't know why he picked <i>both</i> of us," she says. "It's just that Casey was late, and--"<br/>
<br/>
"He's not going to take the job. Are you?" Andrew glares down at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't, but now I am!" you holler back. "If you want me staying away from your girlfriend--"<br/>
<br/>
He shoves you again.<br/>
<br/>
"Casey's right. He needs the tutoring," Stephanie says, and Andrew wheels on her. "If you want, <i>I'll</i> turn down the job."</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122222222222212122121121121121122121211111112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Plot Against Aubrey Blackwell
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You don't need the tutoring either," Andrew says to Stephanie. He puts his arm around her. "You've got <i>me</i> for anything like that."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes dart nervously between them. It's not just Casey's native panic at being in this mess: You've no idea what Bob was thinking when he accepted Stephanie as a volunteer. Did he do it only it because you'd messed up and gotten stuck in the office? Or is this part of his plan all along? If only the cocksucker would <i>tell</i> you what he was up to.<br/>
<br/>
In your silence, the decision gets made for you. "He's a university professor," Stephanie says. "I think he'd be better for tutoring. I think my parents would--" She trails off.<br/>
<br/>
Andrew drops his arm from around her, and looks between the two of you. He shrugs. "Fine, do whatever you want," he says, and stalks away.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie turns that sickly expression toward you. "It'll be okay, Steph," you say. "We'll get along great. I mean, you and me are friends, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," she says, but doesn't sound like she really means it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Immediately after you get home you call Blackwell's number. "Hey, this is you know who," you say when he picks up. "I think we need to talk about--"<br/>
<br/>
"I think you have a wrong number," Blackwell replies. "Perhaps if you wait a little while, the person you're trying to reach will call you back." The line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
You throw the phone on the bed and kill thirty minutes with video games before Blackwell's number lights up your screen. It's Bob's voice on the other end. "Presc'tt. You gotta prob'em?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't <i>we</i> have a problem? What's the deal with Stephanie McLean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tha' the gull? Yer gonna be wuckin' wit' 'er. You two'll come out Monday, Wen'day, Friday. You come out Tuesday and Thuhsday by y'seff."<br/>
<br/>
"Would you <i>explain</i> what is going on here, instead of just telling me to jump and in what direction?"<br/>
<br/>
"Awright. Come out 'ere now an' I'll esplain." His tone is brutal.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Frying pans and fires.</i> You go to find your mom in her study. "Hey, um, I got an afterschool job," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
She looks up from the computer. "You <i>what?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Not the reaction you were hoping for. "Well, I guess so. This guy from the college? He came in to Mrs. Bradley's class today, and--" You explain how you'll be organizing Professor Blackwell's library in exchange for tutoring.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't sound thrilled. "We'll have to talk about this, with your dad."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Um, but I just talked to him again, and he wants me to come out to his house and talk about it a little."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get my keys," she sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to do that. He lives down on Farm Road. I can bike easy."<br/>
<br/>
"Be home by supper. And bring a phone number or address or something, because we'd like to talk to this man."<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and hop out the door. <i>Mr. and Mrs. Sennik meeting Professor Blackwell. Not a picture you're keen to seen developed.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Bob is back in Blackwell's mask when you arrive, but he has another mask with him, and he hands it to you. It's a second mask of the professor.<br/>
<br/>
"That's the mask you made of the prof when you caught him," your host says. "I'm wearing the one he had on his golem. We gotta keep 'em straight."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because of what we're doin'. We're laying a false trail for anyone who comes to town looking for the <i>Libra.</i> Blackwell is made to order to take the fall, and he will."<br/>
<br/>
You blink in confusion, and he rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"So, I'm gonna be wearing that mask there when I'm dealing with you and the girl," he says, pointing to the mask you're holding. "We're going to put some memories in it. Memories of discovering a little magic prodigy named-- Uh--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Casey Sennik."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. This little kid is gonna come do some library work for him, and the little kid is gonna show some magical prodigies. We'll arrange a show with this." He hands you a lump of modeling clay. "When you come on Wednesday, you'll find that sitting on one of the desks. Play with it. That's all you gotta do, is play with it. I'll handle the rest."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace; he's <i>still</i> leaving you with only a partial story.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll pretend to be impressed, and start showing you a little magic. You'll snoop around the library. Round about the third day, you're gonna find the <i>Libra Personae</i> on one of the shelves."<br/>
<br/>
"How is it supposed to have gotten back into Blackwell's library?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was always there. The fucker's gonna realize he just mislaid it all this time. Anyway, we're gonna play out scenes of Blackwell teaching--" He snaps his fingers at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Casey."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Start teaching him tricks, start showing him the <i>Libra</i> as well. We're gonna go through it all the way up until that spell that puts that golem goop inside a mask. At that point, Casey is gonna double-cross the professor. Nothin' gonna be left of the professor except a mask on a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's the real Blackwell going to be? Still in England?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you very evenly before replying, "Sure. After that Casey is gonna disappear, presumably under a mask of one of his friends. Doesn't matter. The point is, anyone who comes lookin' for the <i>Libra</i> is going to follow a trail leading to this house. They won't find the <i>Libra,</i> but they will find a golem of Blackwell. <i>That</i> Blackwell, the one with the memories we planted in that mask. If they question the golem, even if they get inside the golem's mask, it'll look exactly like Blackwell had the <i>Libra,</i> then lost it when little Casey stole it." He grins tightly.<br/>
<br/>
You ask for clarification at a few spots, but you have to confess you're impressed by the plan. It will be an airtight, false trail. There will be no threads leading to you or Fane; no evidence of what you and your friends did at Westside; no connection to Frank or Joe or Eastman. And no clue where to find the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So you don't talk to me like I'm Bob when you're over here," your boss continues. "You're Casey, and I'm Blackwell and you're just my student. If we need to talk, you send me a text. Sign it 'Lucy', understand? Then I'll pop out of the mask and call you back, so we can talk without leaving traces in the fake mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. But where does Stephanie fit in?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't decided yet. Maybe she doesn't. I had to pick her because I had to pick someone. Why were you late to class?" His eyes narrow.<br/>
<br/>
"Some dickhead took a swing at me, and I had to go to the principal. Hey, you said you wanted a troublemaker!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, alright. So, you know this girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's my best friend's girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
Again, he stares. You don't much like the look in his eye. "Interestin'. Yeah, that might be useful."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Casey's gotta impersonate some people while he's learnin' the book. Why not his best friend's girl? Why not the best friend?"<br/>
<br/>
You shiver. Sure, it was all fun and games when it was you screwing with Lisa and Geoff--<br/>
<br/>
Except it wasn't. It was rather horrible.<br/>
<br/>
--but this sounds a whole order of magnitude worse. Because it wouldn't even be "for real" screwing. It would be screwing with people just to create an illusion elsewhere.<br/>
<br/>
"You be okay with that?" your boss asks in a tone like he doesn't want to hear "no."<br/>
<br/>
You settle back, and put a finger to your chin. The touch of the pleather glove startles you. And then it feels very natural. "Casey would be okay with it," you say, and your lips twitch. "And I'm Casey Sennik."<br/>
<br/>
But Bob doesn't smile back. Your answer actually seems to have bothered him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind things up by telling him about what your mother said; he gives you one of Blackwell's cards and says to have them call at his office, by phone or in person. He also gives you a set of hours: Monday, Wednesday, Friday is the initial plan, with work from four o'clock until five o'clock, followed by an hour of tutoring.<br/>
<br/>
You relate this to your parents over dinner. Like your mom, your dad is concerned, but looks happier after you give him Blackwell's card. You fervently lobby for the job, which ironically provokes more concern from them: <i>Exactly how bad are your grades this semester?</i> is the unspoken subtext.<br/>
<br/>
Bad enough, after you tell them, that they're quite happy to see you tutored (at such a low price) by a professor.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Tuesday and Wednesday pass much as Monday did--middle-school days are so much like each other--and late on Wednesday you find Stephanie after school. "How are you getting out to the professor's," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Get my mom to drop me off, I guess," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not that far," you say. "Can't you ride your bike over? I am." She shrugs. "I'll meet you at your place, and we'll go out together." With obvious reluctance, she agrees.<br/>
<br/>
She shows even more reluctance when you pull up at the gate in front of Blackwell's, and stares at the villa. You ask her what's wrong. She just makes a face and shrugs. But she's right to look alarmed; under the cold gray sky, the villa is the color of old bones. Together, you go up to the door; she shudders a little as you ring the bell inside the wolf's mouth. You resist the urge to jeer at her.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell lets you in with elaborate courtesy. He takes you into the kitchen and gives you milk and cookies, as though you're little kids, but you gulp them down anyway. Then he takes you to the library.<br/>
<br/>
You'd forgotten how nasty that room feels, but force yourself inside it. You turn to find that Stephanie hasn't followed. She's standing on the threshold, a rictus of terror on her face.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222222222222121221211211211211221212111111121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Audition
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Miss McLean," the professor says. "Is there something wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't reply. Very stiffly, she steps into the library. She trips as she enters.<br/>
<br/>
Sympathy washes over you, and you fumble an arm around her. She's trembling. And she's so scared that she doesn't pull away.<br/>
<br/>
"It's quite simple, children," Blackwell says. "I'm afraid I have let my collection get into a state of disorder. Moving books about as I study them, adding new books, discarding those I no longer have a use for. I can no longer lay my hands on the ones I want. So I need a list of all the books I have, and where they are."<br/>
<br/>
He hands you a sheet of stickers. "You can start by putting these on each shelf. Each bookcase gets a letter, and each shelf a number. After that, I will show you the computer software you will use for cataloging." He pats you on the shoulder, smiles, and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie swallows hard, and looks around. "This place is creepy," she whispers.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I hate books too."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mean that. I mean--" She stares at something over your shoulder. You look. It's an alcove, inside of which is a stuffed, three-headed dog. "What is this guy a professor of?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me. The faster we get started, the sooner we can get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
So she sits at one of the desks, scribbling on the little colored dots and handing them to you. You take them around the room, using a wheeled ladder to reach the higher shelves. The woodwork prickles under your fingertips as you touch each shelf. <i>Perfect place for Bob to hang out,</i> you think to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Halfway along one wall you come to a very curious device: a pendulum, the top of whose shaft disappears into the ceiling and whose weighted bottom is shaped like a scythe. It slices along an inch above the floor.  Directly beneath the blade is a smooth groove.<br/>
<br/>
You don't point it out to Stephanie.<br/>
<br/>
You continue down that side of the room, coming to the two grandfather clocks that are ticking asynchronously. It makes you very dizzy to be near them.<br/>
<br/>
You cross over to the wall opposite. It's a little better over here, until you come to the alcove that has the three-headed dog in it. It's only stuffed of course, but it crouches in a very life-like way. You avoid its eyes, which is how you come to notice the little wand sitting in the alcove by one of its paws. You don't touch it, for you've the strong impression that three pairs of jaws would sink into your hand if you did.<br/>
<br/>
You're past the alcove and halfway up that wall when Stephanie shrieks. You spin around, to find her standing halfway on the desk, her eyes bulging with terror. She's staring at the French doors. "What's wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She turns a very white face on you, then whirls to look over her shoulder. She gasps and swallows. "I saw something," she stammers. "It was a hand, all black and hairy." She shudders. "It was reaching over my shoulder."<br/>
<br/>
You walk over and brush her long dark hair back. "It was just your hair," you say. "It was on your shoulder, and--"<br/>
<br/>
"It was a hand," she says firmly. "I don't want to work in this place, it's all weird."<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, I'll protect you from--" <i>From what? From Bob?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Is there something wrong?" That's Blackwell, looking in from the entryway.<br/>
<br/>
"I accidentally scared Stephanie," you say. "She didn't hear me coming up behind her, and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that <i>all</i> it was, Miss McLean," the professor asks skeptically.<br/>
<br/>
She gulps, and after a moment's hesitation nods.<br/>
<br/>
"This room does have an unsettling effect upon the nerves, doesn't it?" Blackwell says. "I did not design or build this house. The man who did had ... <i>eccentric</i> ideas, and built it as a kind of parlor game, to delight his friends. There is nothing to worry about. It is prone to tricks of the light in the late afternoon. That is all."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie nods and sits back down, and the professor exits. For the rest of the afternoon, though, you can hear her breathing very hard.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When you're done numbering the shelves, though, Blackwell suggests putting off the actual catalog work until Friday; it took only thirty minutes to put up the stickers, but he gives you an hour of math tutoring at the dining room table.<br/>
<br/>
You find that bit of modeling clay sitting by your place, so you pick it up. It is stiff and dry and flaky, so you surreptitiously spit in it to make it more pliable. You play with it under the table all the time that he goes over the basic algebra exercises with you and Stephanie. There is nothing spooky about the dining room, and gradually she calms down.<br/>
<br/>
When the tutoring session is over, Blackwell gives each of you a five dollar bonus and a paternal smile. You set the clay back on the table, for him to do whatever he needs to do with it, and follow Stephanie to the front door. You've just got it open when a strangled voice calls from deep in the house: "Presc'tt!"<br/>
<br/>
You freeze, and look at Stephanie. She looks blankly back. "Presc'tt!" Blackwell calls again. You frown. "Wait for me outside," you tell Stephanie. "Sounds like he's having a fit or something." Relief washes over her, and she practically runs out the door.<br/>
<br/>
You tramp back into the dining room. "Can't you remember my freaking name," you grumble. He'd made such a big deal about you "being Casey" and him "being Blackwell," so there'd be no "real" memories in the mask he's wearing. So why is he fucking up?<br/>
<br/>
You find him staring at the table, at the lump of clay. His expression is stricken; more than that, it's a look of stark terror. He points at it. "What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's that lump of clay you had sitting out," you shrug. "I was playing with it like--"<br/>
<br/>
He seizes you by the shoulder; fingernails bite deeply into your flesh.<br/>
<br/>
"I was just goofing off with it," you lamely finish, remembering you're supposed to be in character. <br/>
<br/>
But he squeezes you harder. You flinch, and look at the clay.<br/>
<br/>
It's not a lump anymore. It's a figurine. Tall, thin, a little stooped, with a puffy face and long hair draped over the head to trail over the shoulder. You blink. It looks exactly like Bob, the Bob you met on the ride back to Eric's from the airport. "Did I do something wrong?" you carefully ask.<br/>
<br/>
He releases you with a jerk, and slowly, with seeming loathing, he picks up the figure between two fingers. He shudders. "No, you did good. Too good."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
He fixes you with a hard stare, and you think you see hatred in his eyes. Then he shrugs, stiffly. "Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Friday," you remind him. "Tomorrow's Thanksgiving."<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow," he growls. "Off with you now."<br/>
<br/>
You stumble backwards, out of the room and down the hallway and out of the house. You discover that Stephanie has already pedaled away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Thanksgiving Day is very nice, though it's just you and your mom and dad and lots and lots of food, which takes a long time to prepare. After the meal your folks call your brother, Tony, and after they talk to him you get on the phone and have a good long talk with him too. Tony is big and strong and bright, and he always treated Casey well--much better than you ever treated Robert--and it's easy to relax inside your assumed persona and have a good time with him. It will also put off the moment when you have to see Bob again.<br/>
<br/>
But when you're done with him you sigh and face up to your responsibilities. "Gonna ride around the neighborhood a bit," you tell your folks.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be too long," your mom says. "It's going to get dark soon." You resolve to use that as an excuse to not linger at Blackwell's longer than you have to.<br/>
<br/>
The professor looks much as he did when you left him yesterday--irritable--and he brusquely summons you back into the living room. "The figure you executed in the dining room yesterday," he says. "I was much impressed by it. You have artistic skills, young man?"<br/>
<br/>
"I like to draw," you--as Casey--truthfully reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Show me what you like to draw," he says, and hands you a sketchpad. <br/>
<br/>
Your lips twitch. <i>Yeah, okay.</i> You take a good long time over it, making sure you've got the bush between her legs right, but don't bother to put a head on the nude's shapely shoulders. You grin as you hand it back to him.<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces. "Of course. Could you draw a model from life? Could you sketch <i>me?</i>" he asks. You shrug. "Try. Use this, please." He hands you a golden mechanical pencil.<br/>
<br/>
You try to comply, but the pencil seems to fight you. No matter how you grip it or concentrate, it will not sketch the professor. It keeps trying to come out like another figure. Eventually you give up, and draw Bob as you remember him.<br/>
<br/>
You're not done before Blackwell, looking over the top of the pad, yanks it away and drops it to the floor. He drums his fingers, and stares darkly at you. "You've a prodigious skill," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Sometimes I daydream about being a comic book artist," you smirk back.<br/>
<br/>
"Your talent would be wasted there." He drums his fingers some more, then goes to the kitchen, returning with a little dish. "Spit in this, please," he says.<br/>
<br/>
An odd request, but an easy one. And yet you pause. This could be more "playacting" on his part, but you have the feeling it isn't. <br/>
<br/>
You can't refuse him, but you don't have to. It's one of the curious things about masks that you'd noticed: Anything that comes off them--hair, spit, blood--quickly evaporates. You suspect he wants the saliva of Will Prescott, but you could just give him Casey's, for all the good it would do him.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222222222221212212112112112112212121111111211
author_id: seuzz
title: Spit Takes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Whose spit do you want, Will Prescott's or Casey Sennik's?</i> That's the question you need to ask. But you can't ask it aloud, because of the "playacting" you need to do. <br/>
<br/>
So you stare at him, thinking furiously, while he stars back with glittering eyes of his own. "Sure you don't want me to piss in a cup for you?" you jeer back when an idea has finally come to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Just <i>spit,</i> young man."<br/>
<br/>
"Have it for you in a jiff." You grab the dish from him, and push past into the downstairs bathroom. You can feel his glare on your back, and through the door after you've shut it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hey professor, gotta question for you Call me back thx bye! Lucy</i> you text him. You hear his phone chirp outside the door, but there's no immediate reply. While you wait, you amuse yourself by spitting in the dish and watching the saliva evaporate. Casey is easily amused.<br/>
<br/>
Your phone rings. "Wha's 'is about, Presc'tt?" Bob demands.<br/>
<br/>
"You want Will Prescott's spit or Casey Sennik's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ngh. Both, I s'pose."<br/>
<br/>
"Hard to give you Casey's. It'll evaporate."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" So you explain things to him. "So gimme Casey's, an' leave yours inna kitchen."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt at the complication, and at the mystery. After counting to two hundred, backwards and forwards, you spit in the dish, flush the commode, and saunter out of the bathroom. You find Blackwell in the library, sitting and blinking stupidly. You set the dish before him.<br/>
<br/>
He snatches it up. "You can go now," he says. <br/>
<br/>
You make a face and go into the kitchen, where you pull off Casey's mask and hock a big loogie into the dish before letting yourself out through the kitchen door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"It's not so bad," you say as you bounce the soccer ball on the side of your foot, then heft it over to Andrew. He catches it one hand and bounces it on the grass, then tries spinning it on his finger. You snicker as it topples off. "The guy's a major league weirdo, but Stephanie's being a baby."<br/>
<br/>
Andrew throws the ball at your head, but you easily catch it. "She's talking about quitting."<br/>
<br/>
"So let her quit." You spin the ball on your own finger, keeping it easily balanced. "She doesn't need the tutoring, and I can handle it."<br/>
<br/>
It's Friday afternoon, and you're due at Blackwell's in about thirty minutes. You were happy that Andrew wanted to get together with you, until you found out he wanted to talk to you about Stephanie and the job at the professor's.<br/>
<br/>
"Can I go with you today?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I guess you can go, but I don't know what the professor will say." You bounce the ball a couple of times on your knee; it spurts away when you catch it at a bad angle, and you dash after it with shirt tails flying. "Why do you wanna go?"<br/>
<br/>
"See if it's safe."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you!" You sneer hard at Andrew. "I can take care of any shit that happens out there, you don't need to be along to babysit!"<br/>
<br/>
"She's really freaked out, man. I wanna see what--"<br/>
<br/>
"And what could <i>you</i> do if something happened? Algebra him to death?"<br/>
<br/>
He flushes. "What could <i>you</i> do, you little twerp? I can take you, so what makes you think--"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't take me, Andrew. I <i>let</i> you win."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow, and black spots show in his cheeks. "If you think you can take me, take me now."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." Quick as a flash you fling the ball at his face. He flails and bats at it, so he's wide open as you tackle him, knocking all the air from you both as he hits the ground with you atop. You pin him with your knees on his shoulders and gloat down at him. He thrashes, but can't get any leverage. "How's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"You little cheater, let me up and I'll--"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." You get off him. He scrambles up, but as soon as he's raised himself you punch him hard in the nuts; as he hunches you kick his feet from under him and pin him again, this time with his face in the grass. "Wanna try for three out of five?"<br/>
<br/>
He puffs and blows. "If that professor dude went for you first--"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." You get off him again. He rises very slowly, still hunched in pain, and you stand back with a smug smile as he glares at you. After a few seconds he charges at you, hands grasping for your face. You leap back a step; he stumbles, and you connect a hard fist to his jaw. He tumbles sideways, and you knee him in the side of the stomach, following it with a hard kick to the same spot. He collapses, and you leap on his back, pushing him down. You pull his hat off, loudly pretend to spit in it, and twist it back onto his scalp. "Fuck, you're almost as bad as Milky Legs," you jeer.<br/>
<br/>
"Get off," he says in a low growl.<br/>
<br/>
"Four out of seven?" you ask as you get up.<br/>
<br/>
He's very slow about rising, and he's shaking all over. "Go fuck yourself, Casey," he says, and stumbles away.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, come on, Andrew! You don't gotta be better than me at <i>everything!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He flips you off, and--hunched over badly--half-crawls back to his bike. He has to rest and recover before he can pick it up.<br/>
<br/>
You blink back tears of anger and resentment, and trudge over to help him. He weakly pushes you away as you grasp his bike to lift it. "Well, fuck you too, Andrew," you scream at him. "If you're gonna be a fucking pussy!"<br/>
<br/>
He clambers onto the bike, and very slowly pedals away. You hop up and down, punching the air with rage and confusion and an acute sense of loss.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"It'll just be us today," Blackwell says as he leads you into the library. "The girl called a little while ago to say she won't be coming in any more."<br/>
<br/>
"She quit? Doesn't surprise me. I kicked her boyfriend's ass a little while ago." You look around the bookshelves. "Where do you want me to start?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shelf A1." He hands you a legal pad. "Write the titles and authors here. Keep at it until I call on you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fucking tedious.</i> You wish you were doing this job from inside Lucy's body. <i>Then you could at least play with your boobs while—</i> You grit your teeth and hunch over the table. You put your hand between your thighs and blink with sweet pleasure as your cock unfurls and throbs. <i>Oh Jesus, one thought of Lucy and you could so totally cream your shorts.</i> Desperately, you wonder if you can make it into the bathroom. Jack off in there. That'd be a sweet little prank to play on Blackwell. Jerk into his hand towels.<br/>
<br/>
You bite hard on your lower lip until your willie starts to die. But it still pulses a little, and you feel a tiny wet spot in the front of your shorts. <i>God damn it.</i> Shame washes over you. You swallow hard, and return shakily to work.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to be able to tutor you this afternoon," Blackwell says an hour later. "Here's ten dollars for your trouble, and I'll give you a double session next time." He presses a bill into your hands, and stalks from the library.<br/>
<br/>
You blink at the offering: there's note wrapped around it. "Go out, wait a minute, then come back in." <i>Fuck. Bob wants a conference.</i><br/>
<br/>
But you comply, spending a minute gazing at the wintry landscape before going back in. "Hey professor, I think I forgot something! Professor?" No reply, so you search, and find Bob slumped in the living room. You perch on the arm of the sofa opposite until he revives.<br/>
<br/>
"Roight," he says when he sits up, blinking. "Gotta talk."<br/>
<br/>
"So I figured. Is it about Stephanie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, tha's cool. Go'a talk t'Jamie." He leans over a landline and jabs at a lot of buttons. He puts it on speaker phone, and falls back to stare at you darkly as it rings. <br/>
<br/>
"Hyde-White." The voice of your distant boss rings clearly in the dead air.<br/>
<br/>
"Bob an' Presc'tt 'ere," your supervisor says. "Got sumfin t' say t' th' sprog?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah yes, Mr. Prescott. My associate tells me you show rare talent. I've looked over the test results myself. I confess myself startled, but maybe I shouldn't be surprised."<br/>
<br/>
"What test results?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. You'll learn in due time. That will be part of your new training, in fact. I want you to return to London."<br/>
<br/>
You fall off your perch. "You want me to what?"<br/>
<br/>
"You are well placed there, but I've decided you would be better placed here. You will leave in the morning."<br/>
<br/>
"What am I supposed to tell my parents?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause, which is enough to answer your question, which you now realize was very stupid. "Nothing, of course," Hyde-White chuckle. "I am sending a new agent out to assume your current impersonation. Meet him at Professor Blackwell's in the morning and turn your mask over to him. No need for you to pack, either, except for whatever clothes you need for the trip. All will be arranged for you when you arrive."<br/>
<br/>
So that's that. You won't regret leaving Casey Sennik's life, but you can't help worrying about this sudden change of plans, and what it might portend. "What's going on," you ask Bob when the professor has hung up.<br/>
<br/>
"You're th' fair-haired boy now," he says, and doesn't hide his anger.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122222222222212122121121121121122121211111112111
author_id: seuzz
title: Fane and Fortune
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span> <i>There and Back Again.</i> <br/>
<br/>
The next day a private jet whisks you to England; a few hours after you arrive you in Cambridge. ou stare goggle-eyed at the architecture--old and new, tasteful and modern--and are dropped off in front of an ancient pile of turrets and buttresses. You are shown to a comfortable set of rooms and told to wait for Professor Hyde-White. There are a lot of books, but all they seem medical in nature, and so you've nothing to read or otherwise amuse yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You've had a lot to think about, but nothing solid to get a grip on. Bob had said nothing to you, and Hyde-White had only mentioned "test results" and "new training." It's very odd, this interruption; you thought you'd been doing well. But it's clear that Bob's plot--using Blackwell and Casey to stage a cover story for the disappearance of the <i>Libra</i>--doesn't require <i>your</i> special presence. You can only hope that you fulfilled some obscure criteria, and that's why you've been pulled into a new situation.<br/>
<br/>
You hope it doesn't involve Patterson. You wonder what's become of him.<br/>
<br/>
After what seems a very long hour, the door opens, and Hyde-White comes in.<br/>
<br/>
He's looking rather tired and harried, and his shoulders slump as he shrugs off an overcoat. His smile is rather thin as he greets you, and instead of inquiring after your health and your trip he merely sits in an easy chair with a sigh and opens his briefcase. He shuffles through papers, separating them into stacks on his knee or at his side, and slips on some half-rim glasses. You sit, to patiently wait. <br/>
<br/>
The professor mutters to himself, and a few times checks his cell phone. "Would you believe--" he finally says, and looks over his glasses at you. For the first time he seems to genuinely notice you, and a look of weary amusement fills his blue eyes. "Would you believe they will pay for that Gulfstream that has been ferrying you about, but they will not pay to give me three more research assistants?"<br/>
<br/>
The statement embarrasses you, but he seems not to notice, and just continues to shuffle papers. Eventually he gets them sorted to his satisfaction, returns them to his briefcase, and closes it. He sits back, crosses his legs, and regards you thoughtfully. "So, what do you think? Would you be satisfied with the new position?"<br/>
<br/>
It's even worse than when Mr. Walberg would ask you for homework that you'd forgotten to do. You've done something very bad, you're sure, having misheard or forgotten to do something the professor or Bob asked of you. Color rises in your cheek, and you grin weakly. "Um-- I'm really sorry, Professor Hyde-White, but I don't know what the position is?"<br/>
<br/>
The professor's eyes freeze, and he blinks. "Didn't Bob tell you about it," he skeptically asks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Great.</i> "He told me that I'm the fair-haired boy," you warily reply. <i>Is that the position? Does that phrase mean anything?</i><br/>
<br/>
The professor stares. "And that's <i>all</i> he said?" You nod weakly. The temperature in the room drops noticeably. <br/>
<br/>
The professor stares some more at you, his mouth haggard. Then he looks away, mutters something, and re-crosses his legs. "Oh, very well. Perhaps it's best that I be the one to tell you."<br/>
<br/>
"Did I do something wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No, not at all. You're the blameless victim of intradepartmental politics is all." He purses his lips thoughtfully. "Yes," he murmurs, "it is probably best that it come from me."<br/>
<br/>
He thinks a moment, and then becomes slightly more animated, offering you tea. You gratefully accept, and he steps into another room. To be polite, you follow to see if you can help. It's a small kitchen, and the professor fills a kettle from a tap and sets it on a low flame. He asks for your preference; you say you don't care; he gives you a wry glance, and gestures you to return to the sitting room. Some minutes later he joins you, giving you a cup and sitting again with one of his own.<br/>
<br/>
"How much do you know about the history of science?" he asks. Not much, you confess. "Then I will give you the brief version.<br/>
<br/>
"It starts with philosophy," he says, and leans back in his chair. "The Greeks. Aristotle systematizes it with lots of talk about substances and causes. There's some good, basic biology, but the physics is quite bad. Then stasis. The Arabs extend knowledge of astronomy and medicine a little; they and the Indians extend mathematics a great deal. There is a dark age in Europe, but it comes to life again in the late Middle Ages and Renaissance. Then they start questioning what they inherited from antiquity. Copernicus, Galileo, Leibniz, Newton, Descartes, other worthies show that Aristotle cannot explain many things. They begin to systematically take knowledge apart and put it back together again, using their wits, their brains, solid measurement techniques, and a hard-headed appreciation for evidence and experimentation."<br/>
<br/>
He takes a long sip from his cup, and stares keenly at you over the rim. <br/>
<br/>
"But then there is <i>magic.</i> You appreciate that there <i>is</i> such a thing, don't you, Mr. Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, for of course you've seen and done some pretty weird things with masks.<br/>
<br/>
"You're right to be noncommittal. There <i>is</i> no distinction between science and magic. It is all knowledge, to be explored and understood and given practical expression. There is no reason <i>not</i> to approach it in the same spirit with which Copernicus studied the motion of the planets, or Galileo and Newton the behavior of objects in motion. It is <i>all</i> grit for the mill."<br/>
<br/>
You slurp a little from your own cup. What he says makes sense, you suppose.<br/>
<br/>
"But there has been a long-standing prejudice against investigating magic. With good reason, I might add," he says, arching his brows. "Magic is quite dangerous, it's rather like playing with nuclear materials. Very bad things can happen if you don't know what you're doing, and for thousands of years people <i>didn't</i> know what they were doing. Imagine men in togas trying to take apart a hydrogen bomb, or seizing the controls of a 747 in mid-flight. That'll give you some notion of what it must have been like, the kind of disasters that must have occurred. For eminently practical reasons, what came to be called 'magic' was treated as forbidden knowledge, to be suppressed, and those who investigated it were persecuted. It was wise public policy, and if I had lived in the thirteenth century, or earlier, I should certainly have approved of the Inquisition, and might have gladly helped it out.<br/>
<br/>
"But the problem was the <i>manner</i> with which it was approached. Unscientific, haphazard. Men in filthy robes fiddling with skulls and burning tapers. Few survived their experiments, for they did not understand how to keep themselves safe by approaching it cautiously, carefully. They did not treat their results with the proper degree of skepticism, and so leaped to conclusions both false and dangerous.<br/>
<br/>
"But today we have the scientific method, and can study magic with the same assurance of safety and success with which we study, let us say, nuclear physics."<br/>
<br/>
You refrain from muttering the phrases "Chernobyl," "Three Mile Island", and "Hiroshima," and continue to listen politely.<br/>
<br/>
"But there is still that long-standing prejudice, and magic has mostly been forgotten over the centuries, so successful has its suppression been. The vast majority of scientists, and virtually all governments, know nothing of it, though they are aware of and investigate some very odd phenomena, which we might call 'magical'. But there <i>are</i> still organizations--mostly spiritual in nature, like the Church--that know of it, and suppress it. But there is no reason <i>not</i> to investigate it, except for the prudential reason that one might not want to call attention to oneself from our latter-day inquisitors. Does all this make sense to you?"<br/>
<br/>
It does, mostly, and you say so--though after your own adventures you feel yourself suspending judgment on the wisdom of making such investigations.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Then I am now going to tell you a secret about Fane. We are in the business of investigating magic."<br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye, to gauge your reaction. In truth, you have none. His confession does not surprise you in the least.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me emphasize," he says, leaning forward, "that we are not wizards or cultists. We are scientists and engineers. That is all. We stand to magic--though I rather dislike that word, because of its connotations--as DuPont stands to chemistry. We investigate it, and master it, with an eye toward improving the lot of man. There are many dangerous, even deadly chemicals in the world. But you would not outlaw chemistry, or the businesses that traffic in them, would you? For without modern chemistry we would not have the modern world. We would be wearing scratchy clothes, plowing our fields with horses, and starving every few dozen years when the harvests failed. There would be no modern transportation or communications networks. Disease would be endemic and largely fatal. Without the marriage of chemistry and business, we would still be living in the Middle Ages.<br/>
<br/>
"Fane's goal," he says in a rather stentorian way, "is to bring 'magic'--for lack of a better word--into the modern world in the same way and for the same reasons we brought chemistry into it. To create a world of power, knowledge, comfort and prosperity as far beyond our era as our era is beyond the Middle Ages."<br/>
<br/>
He leans forward. "Will you join us, Mr. Prescott? Will you help us better the lot of mankind?"</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222222222222121221211211211211221212111111121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Fortunate Son
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Fane's goal," says Professor Hyde-White, "is to bring magic into the modern world in the same way and for the same reasons we brought chemistry into it. To create a world of power, knowledge, comfort and prosperity as far beyond our era as our era is beyond the Middle Ages.<br/>
<br/>
"Will you join us, Mr. Prescott? Will you help us better the lot of mankind?"<br/>
<br/>
There's only one thing to say: "I thought I had."<br/>
<br/>
He flashes a smile. "As an employee, yes. I mean as a researcher. As an engineer. As one who will help unlock the mysteries of the worlds we do not see."<br/>
<br/>
That does cause you to rear back. It's like going to work for your dad's company as a janitor, and then being offered a promotion to aeronautical engineer. "I don't know anything about this stuff," you protest. "Sure I played with the masks. But I don't understand how they work. And I've never been good at school. My grades were-- Not awful, but they weren't A's, and I'm never gonna be a-- A <i>professor!</i>" You gesture at him.<br/>
<br/>
He laughs--a dry but warm sound, a chuckle of genuine amusement. "My dear Mr. Prescott, I am perfectly familiar with your academic achievements, and I assure you that they have <i>nothing</i> to do with what we want or require. As for your becoming a professor--" His eyes twinkle. "Yes, I rather doubt you would ascend to that <i>very lowly</i> station. But where it counts, I am quite certain you would quickly outshine <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him, dumbfounded.<br/>
<br/>
"I have compared magic to nuclear physics," Professor Hyde-White says. "But magic is not a <i>subject</i> or a discrete field of inquiry. Say rather that every field of study shades off into the esoteric and the-- Well, the <i>occult</i>. There are 'magical' kinds of physics--you have already touched lightly at <i>them</i>--and of astronomy. Astrology is only <i>mostly</i> nonsense. There are magical kinds of medicine and biology, and even magical kinds of zoology. There are such things as elves and trolls and ghosts, though they only vaguely resemble their literary and cinematic representations. Literary elves have about as much relation to real elves as <i>Star Wars</i> has to the Apollo Project." He looks a little uncomfortable. "There are even magical forms of genetics and biochemistry. Some people are born with prodigious skills." His lips whiten and disappear as he gazes carefully at you. "I believe you have already met <i>two</i> such individuals?"<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to understand the allusion "Frank and Joe, you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. They are quite bad boys, though I'm sure you had a high impression of them while you were, ah, playing their part."<br/>
<br/>
You redden a little, but he doesn't seem to notice.<br/>
<br/>
"In calling them 'bad boys' I am not reflecting on their moral character, which I'm sure is sterling." His tone turns a little satirical. "But they were misguided. They belonged to an organization of like-gifted, like-minded individuals whose intentions--though quite well-meaning--are fundamentally hostile to the improvement of mankind and mankind's lot. Their principles are quite high-minded. Like the inquisitors of old, they seek to protect men from harm by suppressing the fact of magic. In practice, they are <i>quite</i> selfish, and keep its secrets for themselves."<br/>
<br/>
"I really don't remember anything about them," you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, you wouldn't," the professor says. "We have already made some very cautious experiments with the <i>Libra,</i> and we understand how assumed memories and dispositions quickly fade. They are even difficult to assume. Well, for some of us."<br/>
<br/>
He stretches his long legs before him. "Those boys, their prodigies were of a special kind. They had, for lack of a better word, 'powers'. But the kind of biochemical magic that I am describing can manifest in various ways, and oftentimes they do not manifest in the form of physical prodigies. I will confess that we have almost no notion of how biochemical magic work, and are only aware that it exists. But we do have ways of detecting its presence, and of anticipating the forms that it will take. Bob did not describe your test results to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't even know I took a test."<br/>
<br/>
"You gave him a saliva sample."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Yeah. Was that it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. You displayed a skill that surprised him, and he had the wit to follow up with it. He shared the results with me and I made my own investigation. So here we are." He smiles in a meaningful way.<br/>
<br/>
The hair on the top of your head starts to rise. "Are you saying that I--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Quite. You are doubly blessed, in fact, with biochemical prodigies."<br/>
<br/>
You feel very faint, and list a little to the side. You can only stare at the professor, though your eyes have a hard time focusing on him.<br/>
<br/>
"One of your prodigies, we had already discovered empirically, though we did not recognize its roots. That is your skill at impersonation, in burying yourself so deeply in the life and mind of another that discovery is practically impossible, and you seem able to do it with hardly any thought or effort. But it's your other prodigy that excites me, and prompts me to invite you to take this new position with us. Tell me, do you have any mechanical aptitudes?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so. I could never build anything. I sometimes pissed my dad off by taking things apart, but I could never get them back together again."<br/>
<br/>
The professor chuckles dryly. "And your math skills were also, shall we say, unimpressive. But we are quite certain that you possess an aptitude for-- Let us call it 'magical engineering'." He cocks an eyebrow. "I have the strong impression that you would take to magic the way Edison took to light bulbs, or Mr. Steven Jobs took to computer design."<br/>
<br/>
You rub your forehead. "This doesn't make any sense to me," you say faintly. "I can't even do card tricks."<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White laughs again. "No, it wouldn't make sense, not until you'd begun to make a study. We can give you the basics; indeed, that was what Bob was supposed to do with you during your sojourn in Saratoga Falls. But after reviewing your results, I decided you could make far swifter and greater progress by studying here."<br/>
<br/>
"With you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not directly, no. We have tutors, like Bob. We have advanced researchers. I confess," he slowly adds, "that you will likely surpass them, and quickly too. At least, I hope so. That is my hypothesis, and your help would be of inestimable value to us."<br/>
<br/>
You sink back in your chair, and gnaw on a knuckle. <i>Back to school,</i> it sounds like. You're in too much of a daze to think more than that. You're not sure why Hyde-White is being so tentative in describing this future to you; you are under the strong impression that you need to do whatever he says, and that he's already decided for you.<br/>
<br/>
But apparently he hasn't. "I flew you out here," he says, "because here is where you would undergo training. But as I said, you are doubly gifted, and there are two ways you could help us. One is as a researcher and engineer, and as I've said, you would be a tremendous boon to us. A tremendous boon to all mankind. But you have the other gift as well, for impersonation. You can help us there as well."<br/>
<br/>
"How?" you ask sharply.<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates. "As an agent," he says. "We must perforce operate discreetly, and advance our goals indirectly. To be blunt, we must often manipulate others, to protect ourselves and to-- Well, to seize advantages." He steeples his fingers, and picks through his words very carefully. "Mr. Kim, I believe, told you that his job involves espionage, spying on some of our competitors. It would be quite easy to undertake such missions if one of our agents--"<br/>
<br/>
"If you replaced someone who works for them with one of your own agents," you say bluntly. "If you replaced them with me."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," he says, and doesn't seem relieved by your quick understanding of his very obvious point. "And you would do best at whichever job appealed more to you. That is why I would leave the decision to you.<br/>
<br/>
"I should also add," he continues, "that the two jobs would not be mutually exclusive. As an infiltrator, you would have to understand how our occult techniques work, and would have to undertake a study of them. And as a research student you would be living under a mask for the first few months, at least, until we could get you an identity under your own face established. I think we would also use the <i>Libra Personae</i> as you first textbook."<br/>
<br/>
"Can I think about it?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course," he says, sounding surprised. "You have the evening and night, and as there is such an overlap at the beginning, I will give you quite a bit of leeway in changing your mind even after you've made some progress."<br/>
<br/>
He stands, and takes your cup, which is still half full and lost all its heat. "Come. We have a hotel room booked for you. You will find clothes and a first mask, something you can use to navigate the college and town without getting lost or making yourself obvious as a tourist."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a small and homely hotel that he drives you to--almost more like an inn than a hotel--and as the winter light begins to fail you find yourself in a small but comfortable room. There is a suitcase with some slacks and sweaters, and a blue mask. There's a name inside it--PAUL GREGORY GIBSON--but you don't put it on. You look out into the gloom through a crack in the curtains. Outside, in the gloom, you glimpse traffic and passersby, and a raffish figure with flyaway hair handing out leaflets to pedestrians.<br/>
<br/>
To leap ahead as a spy: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/11332" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1942914">Diana's Doppelgangers</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/11332" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
To leap ahead as a researcher: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/11331" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1942914">The Vulcans</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/11331" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222222222221212212112112112112212121112
author_id: rugal
title: A Jade and Gray World
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Casey, from what Robert's memories can tell you, is a jerk. A grade-A psycho who loves nothing more than to torment Robert at any given opportunity. What the Molester and Kirkham are, well were, to you Casey is to your brother. Except possibly worse. With the Molester and Kirkham it's all rather simple and old fashioned: body checking you into a wall here, shoving your head hard into a locker there, a little punch in the solar plexus, some times a swirlie if they're feeling a little merciful. But Casey? Casey is one of these new fangled modern bullies. Oh sure he gets his licks in but he knows how to play people, how to mess with their heads. He knows the value of spreading things around on social media and of making someone paranoid, afraid of their own shadow. Some times you can do so much damage without ever throwing a punch.<br/>
<br/>
Is that really who you want to be? Is that the type of life you want whether it's two weeks, two months or two years? You'd add a life as a miserable asshole but that's the kind of life Bob's consigned you to for the next little while. But you can mitigate that. Your brother annoys you, that's true, and you fight often enough. But it's typical sibling rivalry bullshit; deep down you know you love him. You don't want to spend any time bullying him.<br/>
<br/>
So Traci Small it is. The problem is that Robert doesn't know her, he doesn't know any girls really, so getting her as him will be next to impossible. You'll have to make a jump to someone else that provides you with a route to her and who knows, along the way you might wind up somewhere that fulfills Bob's requirements.<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, Eric, I need to ask you some questions." you state as you ring him up, "About some of your clientele."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will, you couldn't have picked a worse time." Eric replies in an exasperated manner.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, something wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's Cindy, dude!" he exclaims, "It was cool at first but damn, man, she just wants it all the time! A guy's only got so much he can give, you know what I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
You laugh, "Don't wish on the monkey's paw, then."<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, yeah, clientele? Liiiiike...."<br/>
<br/>
"Like the people who frequent your store." you reply, "Specifically, anyone of middle school age. Double specifically a girl of middle school age."<br/>
<br/>
"Middle school...? Dude, that's... kinda weird." he says, "Little unsettling to be honest."<br/>
<br/>
"This from the adult keeping a copy of a high school girl as a sex slave?" you ask teasingly, however there's a brief moment of silence. "I was just messing with you, dude. Anyway it's like this: Bob wants me to switch into another person, someone to act as an apprentice under his assumed identity. Said that it needed to be a middle schooler, wouldn't give me any more than that."<br/>
<br/>
You hear Eric mull that over for a moment, "Yeah, Fane's got their reasoning I guess. Alright, so, middle school girls huh?" another moment of mulling, "Yeah, there's one. Comes in on Saturdays with her boyfriend in the afternoon, usually around three or so."<br/>
<br/>
"That works, yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Problem is, middle of the afternoon means Howie and them will be there and probably some <i>real</i> customers as well." he states.<br/>
<br/>
You grumble about that, "Alright, well... thank of a reason to get us in the back room. We can make the switch there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a hassle getting Will to agree to take you out to King Kong Komics. You let him smack you around a little until he's gotten his fill, it's painful and pisses you off but you gotta do what you gotta do you figure, and then tell him you'll be out of his hair by tomorrow afternoon. That Saturday is filled with chores, mostly doing stuff in the house for your mom, as the family gets ready for Thanksgiving. You finish close to three and after a quick shower from Will, he had to actually sweat doing yard work, you're gone.<br/>
<br/>
The bell rings as you walk into the store and Eric's face lights up. "Hey, seeing you guys twice in a row? My ideas to get business turned around must really be paying off!"<br/>
<br/>
"What ideas?" calls out Christian derisively looking up from his game with Howie, Darrell and Hugh.<br/>
<br/>
"Gonna do a few giveaways. Show people I'm a generous guy and get some word of mouth going." he shoots back with a grin, "Speaking of, I've got one going on right now. Actually I was just about to do the drawing but if you guys wanna grab some slips and write your names on them I'll throw them in the bowl and get right to it."<br/>
<br/>
You do as he says and so does he and then call attention to the drawing. The roleplayers take a quick break from their game, the dozen or so other customers stop as well. "Alright everyone, time for the drawing!" he calls out, "I'll draw two names out of the bowl, those two will go with me to the back where they'll each take twenty comics out of anything I've got back there, and it's my special stock so you know it'll be good." he grins.<br/>
<br/>
He reaches a hand into the bowl and swirls it around eventually pulling up a slip of paper. "Alright first up we got... Robert Prescott! Congrats, dude!" he exclaims while shooting you a smirk. "And second... Jade Johnson!" You look around eventually seeing a girl, the only one in the store really, with long dark hair and dark clothes. That has to be who he mentioned last night; Robert's definitely seen her around school. "Now if you two'll come with me..."<br/>
<br/>
You suddenly stop remembering that you're going to have to get your mask off of the real Robert. "Hey," you say right before you reach the back, "if I go halfsies on my share can Will come back here as well? He did drive me out here and all." Eric looks at you for a moment before nodding, "Hey Will! You call out, "Eric said you get half of my take for driving me out here so he wants you in the back too!"<br/>
<br/>
Will looks at you skeptically before coming. Once inside Eric gives a quick "clear" before using the disabler. You catch the girl, Jade, and lower her to the ground while Eric does the same for Will.<br/>
<br/>
"You think you'll be good back here?" You ask, "You're not worried about anybody stealing anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"All the people in here are regulars. They're not gonna do anything." He lets out a sigh, "Even if they do comics aren't worth the paper they're printed on nowadays, anyway. Definitely not gonna put your kid through college with 'em like people thought back in the nineties."<br/>
<br/>
You nod and then put a blank mask onto Jade then strip her and Will of their clothing before taking your own off, Eric averts his eyes this time. Eric has to flash the destabilizer a few more times before the mask emerges, you then take the Will mask off of Robert and place it onto Jade. Some more destabilizing action takes place while you get Jade's mask on and regain consciousness, dress, and then put Robert in his clothes.<br/>
<br/>
An overall complicated procedure but one that goes off without a hitch.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Get anything good?" asks Derek Forney, Jade's boyfriend. A self-styled nihilist and a freshman at Eastman who Jade considers her "soul-mate". The two of you are standing outside the store by your bikes, the both of you living close enough that biking there isn't a problem.<br/>
<br/>
"Crap." you reply in a low, bored voice. "Nothing but crap. I think he was using us to unload some of his old stock." The comics are a small reminder of who Jade was, before she<br/>
<br/>
"That's what guys like that do, babe." replies Derek, "They don't have scruples. They only love money. Their love for anything isn't real, not like <i>our</i> love."<br/>
<br/>
With that he kisses your neck and you giggle a little before letting out a content sigh. <i>Oh Derek...</i> thinks Jade's mind, <i>he's taught me so much</i>. "Thanks for always coming out with me." you say in a voice akin to that of a lovestruck puppy as you turn, wrap your arms around his neck, and give him a quick kiss, "Maybe when we're back at my place I could give you a little gift."<br/>
<br/>
She hasn't gone all the way with him but he's gotten her to do other actions.<br/>
<br/>
This Derek, you can already tell you don't like him, not one bit. Jade, however, sees him as a shining light or a splash of color in an otherwise gray world. Jade has a rather pessimistic outlook on life. It all started in the spring when her boyfriend at the time broke up with her leaving her devastated. Then one of her friends started hanging with a shitty crowd.<br/>
<br/>
That's when she ran into Derek at the mall. He took a shine to her, told her about how nothing matters. People are crap, the systems that rule the world are crap, religion is crap, this is crap, that is crap, everything is crap. She's since turned into a mopey girl who dresses in dark colors, her narrow face framed by long dark hair, a permanent scowl etched on said face, and a vegetarian with a sense of self-righteousness as well.<br/>
<br/>
She's not ideal, you definitely don't want to hang around Derek, but she seems like the type of person that Bob was looking for. Someone who treats people, and the world really, as if they're all worthless. Or as Jade would say: crap.<br/>
<br/>
But there's that friend... ex-friend really. That ex-friend who just so happens to be none other than Traci Small. They don't hate each other, they just started hanging with different crowds over the last few months and haven't had much contact. Even still, as Jade you have a direct route to Traci. She was your original pick and she might offer a less angsty, whiny home with far less douchebag high school guys preying on their emotions.<br/>
<br/>
But Jade would definitely work well enough for what Bob wanted. It might be a bit hard, it'd probably take around forty-five minutes by bike to get from the Johnson residence to Blackwell's villa by bike, but maybe you should just stay where you are.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122222222222212122121121121121122121211121
author_id: rugal
title: Small Time
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Oh, honey, you're back?" Leah Johnson asks as you enter and walk towards the stairs. She's sitting on the couch, legs drawn up, with her laptop. Probably writing yet another email to yet another councilman about something or other. "Oh and you've brought your boyfriend home too." her tone there has just a subtle hint of iciness.<br/>
<br/>
"It's nice to see you too, Miss Johnson." replies Derek with a tone much the opposite.<br/>
<br/>
"What are we having for dinner?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I sent Tim out to the store to grab a chicken." she states simply. You look at her with disbelief and she takes notice of that. "Look, honey, we can't all starve because you suddenly decided you weren't eating meat."<br/>
<br/>
"Suddenly decided? You're acting like I didn't give it any thought!" you say with a noticeable whine. The reality is that she did give it some thought... in as much as she thought it would impress Derek. That was about two months ago. "You do this on purpose don't you? You always think that I'm going through some kind of phase! You're always so... so condescending!"<br/>
<br/>
"Jade, honey, that's not it at all." she says sympathetically, "It's just that when I was your age..."<br/>
<br/>
"URGH!" you growl in annoyance before grabbing Derek by the hand. "Come on," you state as you march up the stairs, "let's get away from her." You storm inside and close and lock the door before flopping onto your bead, "Can you believe her?!" you ask, "She always gives me that 'when I was your age' crap! She doesn't know what she's talking about! She doesn't understand me at all!"<br/>
<br/>
In fact she understands Jade more than Jade would like to admit. Jade's heard the stories from her mother, that when she was a kid she was also a rabble rouser and flitting from one cause to the next always trying to make "statements". She's long since settled down but never quite lost that activist streak, she just goes about it without the youthful exuberance.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Jade. She's got a point." says Derek as he sits down next to you.<br/>
<br/>
You give him a look. <i>Oh you would think that.</i> comes the Jade thought, <i>You think she's so hot, I can tell.</i> Leah Johnson is definitely attractive, retaining her looks while hitting forty earlier in the year. In fact with her looks and her eagle-eyed involvement in local politics she'd make a good home if you weren't stuck having to be a middle schooler. Maybe once you're done with this, if Fane lets you stay in Saratoga Falls you can lobby for it.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you thinking you have to impress me or anything." he continues as you sit up and he cups your chin. "Like I've told you, our love is real. You impress me simply by allowing me to share these nice moments. The one bright spot in an otherwise dark world."<br/>
<br/>
You feel your, Jade's, heart melt. <i>Oh Derek...</i> comes another thought, <i>Mom's nothing like me. She's never had a love this honest and pure.</i> You giggle as Derek leans in and gives you a deep kiss that you eagerly return. You let out a small gasp as he lays you on your back. "Uh... Derek, what are you--" you say nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"C'mon Jade, you don't think it's time?" he asks in a reassuring manner, "We need to truly entwine our souls so that together our love can burn away the withered, gray husk of this world."<br/>
<br/>
You almost want to retch. He's so transparent. Yet Jade's mind sees nothing but love and her hormones are pumping so hard that the only thing that's stopping you from just giving in, and that's stopped her, is that little bit of doubt about if she's ready. She's known people that have gone all the way but she's not like them, right? But if you're just using Jade as a stepping stone why complicate her relationship any more? You're not going to stay as her, right?<br/>
<br/>
No of course not. So you gently push Derek off of you and sit up. "I've told you before, Derek, I'm not ready. Not just yet." You can tell that disappoints him, "But I can still help water the flower of our love a little, right?"<br/>
<br/>
With that you unzip his jeans, reach into the opening of both them and his boxers, pull out his cock--having fully sprung to attention--and proceed to place your lips around it and go to work. It's something she's done with him countless times at this point. <i>Skeevy little shit.</i> you think, directing your thoughts to Derek as you know it's he who pressured her into it, but if you're to stay in character...<br/>
<br/>
You work at it until he cums... right on time to as it's not more than half a minute later that you hear knocking.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Jade, dinner's out in the kitchen!" you hear the voice of Timothy, Jade's older brother. Derek quickly gets his cock back in and you swallow before you go and open the door. "So you gonna eat dinner tonight or what?" He then looks in and notices Derek, "He eating with his too?"<br/>
<br/>
You simply glower at him before shoving him out of the way to head to the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Jade Johnson, long time no see!" Traci says as you approach her at lunch on Monday. "You still doing the self-righteous emo-hippie cunt act?" she asks with a smile and one that you're not sure is friendly or devious... or both.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not an act." you protest in Jade's usual bored monotone.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, right, save a tree; slash your wrists. Whatever." she replies dismissively, "So why you coming to me then? Not like we're friends anymore."<br/>
<br/>
"Because I want your help." you say as you try and get her away from the rest of her loser friends, "Come talk to me in private?"<br/>
<br/>
After a moment of thought Traci shrugs. "So whatcha want?" she asks once you've got her alone.<br/>
<br/>
"It's that asshole who runs King Kong Komics." you state, "I was there Saturday with Derek and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hold up, Forney? You're still going out with that fag?" she says with a derisive snicker.<br/>
<br/>
"He's not a... he's not gay. He wouldn't be going out with me if he was." you reply defensively.<br/>
<br/>
"Look at him, all mopey, dresses in black, gives off the 'boo hoo the world is terrible' act. He's gayer than Connor Beaumont sucking twenty cocks." she says referring to a kid in school widely assumed to be gay before meanly adding, "You're totally his beard."<br/>
<br/>
You ignore that, though the Will part of you wonders just what this girl gets into talking like she does. "Look I was there with him on Saturday and the owner had some special thing to get a bunch of free comics. Only it was a total ripoff. He just gave me a bunch of shitty things he wasn't going to sell anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"And what do you want me to do about it?" Traci asks folding her arms.<br/>
<br/>
"I want you cut with me." you say, Jade's ducked out of school more than a few times, "We'll go down there and... I don't know, yell at him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jade, are you trying to think like me? That's adorable." she replies, "But I can go down there, sure. Then we can jack some of his shit. See how he likes getting ripped off. You wanna go now?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod and smile as you head out to the bike racks. It's about a twenty minute ride to the shop. Once inside you almost immediately hear a loud voice yell "Clear!" and manage to close your eyes and shield them just in time before being hit by a blinding flash.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, uh, how old is she?" Eric asks slightly sheepishly as you pull on the dark tank top with the art of some band on the front of it. That's the easiest part, between the multiple piercings and the short shorts over a pair of torn red tights Traci Small's punkish look is surprisingly complicated.<br/>
<br/>
"Fourteen, so don't even think about it." you say before adding, in a rather mean tone, "Not like I'd fuck some disgusting fat fuck like you anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, harsh." Eric replies, "But fourteen? Could've fooled me."<br/>
<br/>
He's not wrong. Despite her last name, Traci Small is anything but having already started to fill out more than most of her classmates and thus looking a good year or two older... if one ignores her face which is still a tad bit babyish. It's a bit of a shock going to her from Jade, who looks more like a younger, skinnier, gawkier version of her mother. You run a hand through your short, pink hair and laugh. "Sorry, man. Just getting into character. Girl's kind of mean." you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"And that's who you want to be?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, "Bob said he wanted someone like this. Someone who'd have no qualms about messing with their friends."<br/>
<br/>
Setting up the switch hadn't been hard. On Sunday you called Eric and asked how many customers are generally there on a weekday afternoon (practically none, it turns out). You then called Will and told him you needed him to ditch tomorrow and to head, one last time, to the comic shop. He whined but eventually agreed. Getting Traci to come out would've been the hard part but Jade knew her reputation so it was easy to know what buttons to press to get her to agree. Everything after was quick and easy.<br/>
<br/>
"Speaking of ol' British Bob, I'm gonna make my way over there now. This girl cuts often enough that nobody will give it a second thought if I miss a day." you say though before leaving the back room you add, "I got him to agree to let you help me with this. Maybe if anything else comes up I can try and convince him that the two of us make a good team."<br/>
<br/>
"Man, yeah, totally. You do that." he says.<br/>
<br/>
With that you leave the room and the store, hop on your bike and head towards Blackwell's villa.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222222222222121221211211211211221212111211
author_id: rugal
title: From Bitch to Witch
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stand in front of the large doors and knock. You wait a few seconds but there's nothing. You knock again but still, nothing. Annoyed you decide "fuck it" and open the doors yourself, stepping inside. "Knock knock! Anyone fucking home?!" you call out. You're met by the corpulent form of Aubrey Blackwell, waddling towards you as he emerges from the library.<br/>
<br/>
"Young lady you've got about ten seconds to get out. Before I call the police and have you removed." he says in a rather irritated manner.<br/>
<br/>
You smile, "I'm just looking for someone. Some old fat ass, he's a professor or some shit. You know anyone like that?"<br/>
<br/>
He glowers, "I assume you're referring to me, are you not?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Could be, cooouuuuld beeeee." you say in a sing-song manner as you walk past him, "See because I've heard that under his face there's another face. Some pasty-ass dude." you state and then in an almost mocking British accent add, "A right British chap guvner, what what."<br/>
<br/>
"Young lady I have no idea what you're on about but if you think you can just barge into <i>my</i> home and..." he trails off unable to find the words before adding, "Who are you anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh you want my naaaaame?" you say, again stretching the word out, "Because usually people want something else from me. But fine, my name's <i>usually</i> Will Prescott but for the time being it's Traci Small."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell eyes you for a moment. "I thought I said it had to be a middle school student." he states.<br/>
<br/>
"And it is." you reply plopping down on the couch and pulling a sucker out of your backpack, "She just hit puberty a little earlier and a little harder." You then take the sucker, unwrap it and place it in your mouth. "Ugh, really wish I had a smoke instead of this fucking candy. You got any?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd think not." replies Blackwell with an air of disdain. "I can see that you've picked a good one though."<br/>
<br/>
"Or a bad one." you smirk. "In fact, if you weren't such a disgusting fat piece of shit I'd show you just how bad." you add with a wink.<br/>
<br/>
That seems to unnerve Blackwell a fair bit. "Yes, well, I see you've had no problem getting into character. Assuming that <i>is</i> her character."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like it's hard. Shit half the time I've used these things I've had to fight <i>not</i> to let the personality overtake me." you say before adding, "You all settled in with Fatwell?"<br/>
<br/>
"As much as I've been able to get." he says in a rather resigned manner, "You say it's not hard but I have to concentrate to keep the thoughts and personality within reach."<br/>
<br/>
"Within reach?" you ask, "Because with me it's like wrapping myself up in a blanket."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm, a natural talent it would seem." states Blackwell, "Quite interesting..." he trails off and looks to be in thought for a moment but then turns back to you. "Alright then, consider it to be your, well this girl's..."<br/>
<br/>
"Traci." you state as you can tell he's struggling with the name.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, Traci. Consider this her interview." he says while sitting down on an adjacent chair. "So first thing's first: you said she's a middle schooler. How old?"<br/>
<br/>
"Turned fourteen last month." you state plainly.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, right." he nods, "Alright then, tell me what she's like. Personality."<br/>
<br/>
You think for a second, "A bitch. Rude, foul-mouthed, generally mean to a lot of people. Especially the popular girls. It's funny because you'd think they'd have the advantage but she pushes 'em around even though they still talk shit about her."<br/>
<br/>
"So a problem child. Sounds exactly like who I was looking for." he replies, "Alright, so why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, you wanted her." you reply flippantly.<br/>
<br/>
"No, Tra--Will. I meant why is she like she is." he shoots back, the annoyance clear as day in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
"While I'm like this just call me Traci." you state before taking a finger and tapping your chin, "Why's she like this? Let's see... overcompensation, I think."<br/>
<br/>
"Overcompensation?" asks Blackwell, "For what."<br/>
<br/>
You go looking through her mind, it's like an open book. "She used to be a nerd and the kind of nerd that was quiet and meek. Easily pushed around. She started getting sick of it. She came across Bruce Mumaw and some others getting high, they asked her if she wanted to join them as a joke. She took it seriously though and fell in with them. She started changing, she dropped all of her old friends. Her and Bruce are kind of a dating-but-not-really thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm, I see. So it's like she was a weak person, got in with a different crowd, so she's going full force in the opposite direction trying to convince everyone and herself she's no longer what she was." Blackwell says, quite astutely to your surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"It's kind of an attention whore thing too." you add, "Her mom remarried last year. Her step-father..." you think, "He's a good guy. Makes good money. But they don't pay as much attention to her as she'd want."<br/>
<br/>
"So she wants recognition and she wants to be taken seriously." he says in a thoughtful manner. "Would she like to be anyone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"Would she... what?"<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell leans forward, his eyes narrowing, "Exactly what I said, would <i>she</i>, this girl and not you, want to be anyone else?"<br/>
<br/>
You think: since she's so fresh on your mind you think about Jade Johnson but filtered through Traci's mind. They were friends once but now they're not. She's got a nice family, she's got a boyfriend who seems, though you suspect different Traci doesn't, to like her. So why is she so mopey? Her life is fine, she doesn't deserve it. Traci would do better with Jade's life, she thinks.<br/>
<br/>
Or Dinah Ackerman. She's part of your little group but while Traci's got tits, Dinah's got a cute face and an amiable, giggly personality that makes her more popular both in your circle and out of it.<br/>
<br/>
Or the popular girls like Brianna Matthias or Madison Alvarez. Or Ms. DiPietro, the pretty young English teacher who all the boys drool over.<br/>
<br/>
Overcompensation, attention whoring... all of it born from insecurity. So you nod, "Yeah, Traci would take the opportunity in a heartbeat."<br/>
<br/>
"Good," Blackwell nods, "Then she'll be open to learning about the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, come again? She's under a mask. I'm playing her and I know this shit."<br/>
<br/>
"If you're playing the role of this girl, does she know how this stuff works?" asks Blackwell rhetorically. "No, no she doesn't. So you will be getting a reeducation, from the beginning... or rather this girl--"<br/>
<br/>
"Traci. Small." you say with annoyance.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes yes, Traci Small will be learning about this book from the beginning." he states, "And we've got plenty of time to. A year, at least."<br/>
<br/>
That takes you by surprise. A year as Traci Small? "So from a bitch to a witch, huh?" you ask. "Alright, sure, whatever. How are we gonna get me a job here, though? Traci's parents don't pay much attention to her but they would if she said she was riding her bike past some disgusting old man's house when he offered her a job."<br/>
<br/>
"Leave that to me, I have something of an idea." he says. He then heads out of the room for a moment and returns with a pad of paper and a pen. "Write your school schedule down." He notices you eye him and sighs, "Just do it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're on your bike, a ways away from Blackwell's residence and heading towards your house when your phone--because what self-respecting teenager these days hasn't finagled a cellphone from their parents--goes off.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? What's up?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Traci, hey, where'd you go?" asks Bruce.<br/>
<br/>
"Jade wanted me to wreck that dumb fucking comic shop with her." you say, "She pussied out though. She's such a fucking baby. I've just been riding around bored."<br/>
<br/>
"Well if you want something to do, come out to the woods." he replies and though he doesn't specify which woods, Traci's mind tells you that he means the ones near Farm Road... close to where you are actually.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm actually close to there right now. So what's up?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Jason scored some booze from his parents' liquor cabinet and got into some of his sister's stash." he says referring to Jason Minkowski. His parents have a rather large liquor supply and his older sister, a college student named Lina, does a poor job of hiding her weed.<br/>
<br/>
Traci's mind is practically screaming at you to go but you yourself are not sure. It's been a fairly exhausting day and you're not sure if you yourself want to indulge in her desire to get drunk and high. You'd rather go back to Traci's and take some time getting used to your new home. But still, staying in character is important and Traci would never pass this up.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122222222222212122121121121121122121211122
author_id: nirxor
title: A shade of Will in Jade's world
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Jade isn't ugly, she's not exactly drop dead gorgeous, no. She's mysterious. It works for her, she has boys on the edge of their seats the way she dresses, like some kind of modern Morgan Fey, a huge inspiration for her current style. She flaunts her pale body like it's a wet dream, just enough to get boys jealous of Derek, it's what he wants. Originally a bold trained girl liking fringe things, she darkened it down to fit her boyfriend's tastes. He's a pain, all Jade has on mind is this manipulative asshole.<br/>
<br/>
"FUCK! If delp could keep Gillian by being an asshole, how the fuck could this depressing fucker keep this girl?" You say using her oddly charming voice. The momment your back to being Jade, Derek crosses her mind, he's in there trying to take control. Your able to push the thoughts out, but realize, he has to go. It would be a pain to get him inside all this, oddly enough, Jade agrees. It's like she's watching Will from inside you, like she can see your life so far. As your thinking this, it's already past ten. As your into keep appeances, you begin to remove the layers of dark makeup, undo all the thirteen piercings on her ears, and, slowly reveal the real Jade.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Holy shit, she's cute as hell...."<i>. <br/>
<br/>
Your mind sputters as you see the girl beneath the nilistic facade. She's got looks, almost like the oddly pale combination of Lin pol, Kim Walsh, and, Catherine Muskov. Derek is easily taller than you at his age, but Jade is still growing, she is already 5'9. She has meat on her bones, not from maturity, no. She has been lathargic this past year when her phase begun, she used to do yoga everyday. She even wanted to try out for the swim team, but a bitter fight with Traci ended that. Ever since then she's been attached to Derek, it's sad, but in total honesty Traci was looking out for her. This poor girl is so hooked on Derek it's a nightmare for to even consider the world without her. If only she didn't have William Prescott inside her that is. You admire her face and features, stripping down to the garments. Jade is blushing, Serenity Jade Johnson,  she's against having having people that aren't Derek look at her like this, yet Will is completely enchanted, he's not shaming her body, it's not a hellish break down of her flaws, but an encouragement of her.<br/>
<br/>
"She's cute, Jade might be able to snag a senior in a year. Hell at this rate she might be the next head cheerleader or even the one with all the power. If she learns about the magic like planed, I wonder." You say in her voice. <br/>
<br/>
<i>"Magic!"</i><br/>
<br/>
That single word pulls at her, she has held in interest in magic, doing rituals with Derek to prove their love. But now, she's more than Jade now, she has a real sorcerer inside her. Power Derek can't ever give her. Jade's mind is searching through your mind. Then it hits you. <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Jade is looking through Will's memories, learning about him.".</i><br/>
<br/>
She is devouring the knowledge, the memories of the book, the masks, Fane, anything and everything. Suddenly the world of William Prescott is veiwed through Jade's eyes. She's like you, in a bad situation, with bad people around her, except you have the worst of the two worlds. Will was forced into it all, but he made it out. He survived against the people with power, no, Will won against the system. He is outside the system! Will, has moved beyond his crush, he can choose who he wants, he can <b>make</b> them listen.<br/>
<br/>
"Will has the real power in this world and he has an organization backing him!". You say as Jade begins to realize what you are to her. She's been enchanted by William Prescott, the nobody from nowhere. Your a literal ghost, a specter who moves through the world unseen. Nobody could stop you, nobody can stop her with you inside her, she is a sorceress with Will in her. Jade is now unified in some bizarre way of her own doing. She smiles as she realizes how connected you are to her,  she begins to look at Will differently. Her arms wrap around her body, slowly caressing it, she's feeling aroused by the notion of sharing everything like this, Jade is happy. She wants Will to stay inside her like this.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"He's a real fucking sorcerer! He can be anyone! Make people do anything! He's trying to teach me his secrets! Will is already a part of me! He's inside my soul! We are sharing one body and mind, like true love! Derek can't even hold me like this, and tomorrow am going to study with him to master all this magical shit! We can stand at the fucking top and piss all over those fuckers!"</i> <br/>
<br/>
Jade is all for it, she wants to be the one with power, even more starnge, she's become obsessed with you. She's moving her hands all over her body, making a case to keep you here. As you let her in, she understands, why you chose her, and she thanks you for it. Jade still is ready from earlier, where Derek would tease and play with your body, letting you get a small rush, letting you understand he is the only one for you. Unfortunately for him, he's been replaced by something better, something he can't even hope to measure up to. Her mirror shows how much Jade wants you, and you indulge her. Her cute moans and heavy breathes send you off to a heavy sleep, Jade is happy knowing that your are inside her like this, letting her sleep even better. <br/>
<br/>
*****************************************************The next morning is a Sunday, a day her mother lets her stay in from church as long as the chores are done by three and as long as Derek doesn't come over. You wait until you hear the car start up, and soon she's gone. You stand up and stretch like Jade use to do. Watching her do poses normally impossible for you, she does with ease. As you assume a very complicated position of having your legs hang over your head, does your cell phone ring. The number saying "Hyde White", you move your hand to answer it and keep her position. <br/>
<br/>
"Good morning, I assume there is a William Prescott listening, yes?". Hyde begins having the same jovial tone as before. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah he's in me old man, what do you want am busy.". Jade fires off, letting her distain for authority show. Hyde seems taken back by the words, but he lets out a hearty laugh instead to Jade's surprise. <br/>
<br/>
"She has a fire to her, she will be a welcomed addition to our group. However, I need to check on who you are for our next phase to begin." He says as the pages in the background are turned to your ears. She's not happy with being judged like this, she knows about him, and wants to fuck him up with a mask. Will however calms her nerves, letting Jade retry speaking to her new boss.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, she's a bit of an anarchist. She doesn't have any real reguard for anything really." She tries again.<br/>
"Well as long as am in her, she listens." You add in a strangely content matter for both of you<br/>
<br/>
"I see. William, excuse me, Serenity, you will be this young woman for a extended period of time. Since you will be attending your original educational facility, you will have some support. We have also purchased a suitable location for you to train your magical abilities at, along with two trainers to assist you." Hyde explains with a more serious tone.<br/>
<br/>
"All right some what am gonna learn on top of being a witch?" You say as Jade's body slowly gets into a full split, you smile, letting the excitement over take you, you let out a giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"I see you are enjoying your new body. I must stress however, the research team has asked to have you advance in the spellbook, hopefully with the assistance of Blackwell, we can make a break through." <br/>
<br/>
"Your letting me have the book back?" In a full twist of affairs, you are struck with shock.<br/>
<br/>
"Sadly, we are unable to make full break throughs, magic is a strange and baffling element to work in. There are always conditions or clauses, never stated or even declared. Such rules are often discovered by expirmentation, such as you have done. The strange thing of some magical tomes or grimores is that they normally have a single owner, even unknown to the person who can use them." Hyde says, in a mellow voice, as the pages in hand turns again. "Now then, I believe we are done with this briefing, aside from some additional training, will you need anything else?" He says as the pages he holds are straightened on a desk. <br/>
<br/>
You pause going through your current life, the strange idea of attending your old highschool, the circle of people she goes with, and the boy who Jade once loved, well a sacrifice to be had. You glance to her reflection, looking for anything to signal you to stop.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Derek, a girl has got to do, what a girl has to do. You were nice, but all you had were words, I want more than that."</i> <br/>
<br/>
That's the only though she has, her eyes giving you the biggest smile on her face.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah old man. See I got this dumbass boyfriend, we've been fucking around for over a year. I need to be free of him. I don't need him for my life anymore, do what you want with him." Jade says, with a vicious smile on her face. <br/>
<br/>
"Understood Miss.Serenity, we will remove your problem. The trainers will be there tomorrow, you will take the classes three times a week, you are to maintain your guise or a guise at all times, and, most importantly; study the book under Mr.kim's watchful eye. Have a pleasant day Serenity!". Hyde ends in a cheerful voice. <br/>
<br/>
Jade is simply euphoric, she has kept Will inside her a bit longer. The idea of him leaving her isn't what she wants. You smile at her, she's wanting to start the day. As she begins her day, you stop her. You drink her body in, letting the sweat fall as you kiss her reflection, granting her a form of reward.  When your done with your chores, your mother is super excited to learn your doing some chores to help an old man at the university, and offers to drive you out there herself.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Get ready world, cause this bitch is going to run your asses and make you fucking love it."</i>. Jade says as she steps out on to the pavement of Blackwell's villa.</i></i></span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222222222222121221211211211211221212111222
author_id: nirxor
title: Jade's life with William's guidance
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The day spent at Blackwell's was a good opener for Jade. She cleaned up the library and sun parlor, in which she then learned about the basics of magic from the professor. The day ended with you having a better understanding, as Jade and Will, over magical sigils and runes. Now you sit on your bed, clutching a pillow.<br/>
<br/>
"How are you feeling sweetie?" Your mother calls out as she sits on your bed. <br/>
<br/>
"I can't fucking believe Derek broke up with me, he's leaving to military school, and, am alone again." You cry out, you gave into your mother's pestering of where Derek was today, but since you can't really say he was taken by Fane, you go with the more believable route. <br/>
<br/>
"So you used Mr. Blackwell's cleaning job as an excuse to get your mind off of it?" She says, hugging you the only way a mother could. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah....." You say trailing off, there are no tears for Derek, just resentment, he held you back. <br/>
<br/>
<i>"Good riddance! I got a man better than him tucked away deep inside me! Maybe I can bring him out soon. I want to feel him with my hands, with my body, and, I want to learn from him. Will is so much better than Derek."</i><br/>
<br/>
Jade's mind goes on and on about you being the superior choice of partner, the perfect couple, thinking and moving as one. She loves how you wear her, how you command her, even now, deceiving her mother is something that pleases her greatly. It's unfortunate, it's only Jade and her mother here, no father or siblings, well Traci Small is close enough of a sister, once a upon time, and Chiho was too, before she was sent to Schuyler, ah right she and this dorky kid were talking, what was his name? The memories of her choices of friends pipes into your mind, but it doesn't change anything, you are to be Jade for the next few months, and Jade wants that to be a permanent stay. <br/>
<br/>
"Well if you need anything, don't be afraid to call me!" She says, Linda Johnson, is the picture esq of beauty. She has very pale skin, but with deep, dark brown hair, her face and body aren't fat. She does yoga to keep it off, but she loves lower body workouts, and it shows on her, as she leaves, you can feel yourself licking your lips. Linda is more of the hot college girl next door. She flaunts her body in moderation, but she is a very compassionate person, sadly Jade isn't. The silk nightgown reveals her body perfectly, for being in her mid thirties, you wouldn't even think that she had kids, hell she passes as Jade's sister when able. She is hot, and Jade can be too, maybe if you took the doom and gloom down a bit, or maybe, got back in with Traci.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Getting in with the popular kids?"</i><br/>
<br/>
You think to yourself, it's the same power Chelsea wields, but if you had it, then the school would be another consume emporium for Fane. It brings a smile to your face thinking about it, all the picks for the taking, all the faces to use. You ready yourself bed, but not after sending a text to an old friend, someone Jade is going to be using for a while. <br/>
<br/>
"Well let's go to bed, after all, we have a lot of things to do tomorrow!" <br/>
<br/>
You tell her kissing the reflection.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The next day, at school, everyone is looking at you, the text you had sent to Traci had obviously worked. People were gossiping like crazy and looking at you, you take the normal route to your class avoiding the noise with your over ear headphones, until you see him.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Oh my God. He's so fucking...... Normal..... But that's all right. That's all we need, isn't it William?"</i><br/>
<br/>
You see yourself walking down the halls, the nobody, your deepest secret, William Prescott. He looks a little battered, obviously he was getting bullied, but he didn't look broken. No, you were interested in him as Jade, but the person under the mask made the difference, you sneak by following him and your old friends to their classroom, which was next to yours.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus Will! You fought Lester and actually gave him a thrashing!" Caleb says in a low whisper. "Nevermind him not getting revenge, what the hell is he gonna do to you after school?" He asks, in tow is jenny with a medical kit and Yumi, both of them looking genuinely worried. <br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea isn't going to let this fly Will, but you can't take this sitting down either, the sports people are going to drill it into you good." Jenny says handing will a bottle of water. "Of course, I've never seen you fight like that, or even knew you could fight." She says, looking happy as will turns to her.<br/>
<br/>
"I never want to fight Jenny, it's just a pain in the ass when I got shit to do and he keeps getting in my way." Will says popping knuckles.<br/>
<br/>
"You look like you didn't need any help throwing him around like that." Yumi cuts in, drawn back Will's new spirit. "I know he bullied you and stuff, but were the black eyes really necessary?" She asks watching him with a little more caution. <br/>
<br/>
"Yes." He answers straight forward and simple. <br/>
<br/>
"So, you're not a boy anymore Will, then what's the plan for when Chelsea's little dogs come chasing you." Another voice cuts in Lin Pol. You never spoke to her before, but had a few interactions with her, you knew she was a massive bitch, but now you are too. <br/>
<br/>
"I'll get them one by one if I have to, since they won't fight off campus, I'll have to engage them if anything happens off campus  the school won't back them up." He says coldly, completely different from you. "If Chelsea gets to be a problem, then just slap the shit out of her, it's not like Lin hasn't done it before." He says as he turns into the math room. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what happened to you Will, but am liking this new aggressive version, tell me when the rematch is." Lin sarcastically calls out to him as he goes into the classroom.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Fuck! Whoever is inside of him is making him way better than me! But that's okay, maybe I can get a mind band of myself and him and have a golem all to myself. Than would be nice, a personal Will."</i><br/>
<br/>
Jade likes the changes in him, but she like you more, the real deal. As you turn into your class, you see Traci Small, already on her way to intercept you. <br/>
<br/>
"Jade..... Are you okay?" She asks, stoping infront of you, you look at her, and give a very weak smile.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be fine, but am sorry, it's just so sudden." You say to her. She takes you in her arms and leads you to her group of friends, a place where you can fit in and expand your influence over the school. Traci's friends are all the rage over the freshman group, all of them have potential to be attractive, but for now, you have Jade to be, and nobody else can sell out their boyfriend quite like she did. The girls are fed the same lines you fed your mother, it takes some waterworks and sobs, but it's enough, they believe you. Jade's life was missing this, friends, hell you miss your friends a lot, but you can see them over there, it's surreal to see yourself over there through the door's little window. It's terrifying to think that you may not even be yourself again. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The day progresses smoothly as nobody can tell who the fakes are, except you. Having nothing else to do you check your phone, in which a unrecognized number is listed on your notifications, but Will knows it, it's his number. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Hey. Jade Johnson right? Can you meet me in the school's lower level storage basement?"</i><br/>
<br/>
Its all that is said, you cut class using the normal excuses Jade has, journeying to there isn't easy, Jade has no clue where it is and it's locked behind several doors in the deeper depths, where all the extra chairs and tables  go. The lower level storage basement is where absolutely nothing is, it's closed because of how it was a cold war bunker, a perfect place for a swap. It's been remodeled, new carpets, new doors, living quarters, and, a whole mess of dirt. Will is standing there already into new clothes, it hangs so badly off him, it makes him look cute, like a rag doll. <br/>
<br/>
"Am told you can make a golem?" He asks, with the most professional voice you have ever heard from yourself. You nod to him, he smiles back.<br/>
<br/>
"Am ordered to move out, they need some extra muscle, I've also been told to use the band on myself and you." He says with dead seriousness. Not questioning it, you do as your told and make the golem mask, the Will in your presence does the rest, from the momment your Jade mask gets ripped off, to when it gets back on, you see a man, now in the right size of clothes, he's massive. You wake him up with Jade, he barely looks at you, and, goes to the desk and pulls out an envelope.<br/>
<br/>
"This is the locations of your hideouts, where they are, who is there, and, what you will do there. Each place is strategically placed for your convince and to our standards, Kim will be attending the third base at the comic shop, your trainers will be in base two, while this is your base one. Keep in mind, you will have to manage your golem. He says, grabbing a briefcase and checking out his suit. "Also, we have control of the security systems, you can call Fane or Kim to clean up anything." He says as he heads out. The door opens and shuts, with you being left with papers, questions, and, a golem. Who stirs to life, getting dressed quickly. He doesn't blush, but he does keep that same golem persona. <br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?" You ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Am William Prescott and agent Sullivan." <br/>
<br/>
He says with the energy of a slug. <br/>
<br/>
"Okay, from now on your going to act like you did today understand? When I call you, you answer, you do as I ask all right?" He blinks several times, before he smiles at you with the classic Will grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure thing boss lady." He says, with the old Will gusto. You smile back at him. <br/>
<br/>
<i>"He's right infront of me, William Prescott.<b>My William Prescott</b>. All alone here.</i><br/>
<br/>
You stop yourself, Jade wants him, but you know better than to cross Fane, opening the envelope, you see the tasks fane had sent.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222222222222121221212
author_id: seuzz
title: Fane's Foundling
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stare at Professor Jameson Hyde-White, and he stares back expectantly at you. There's a little white fleck on his lower lip, as though looking at you has set him to salivating.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson is also staring at you, his eyes fixed and hard and piercing. You can feel his will pressing upon you: <i>Say yes, you fucking moron!</i><br/>
<br/>
Or maybe it's <i>Say no, you pansy moron, I wanna shake you off hard.</i><br/>
<br/>
You're struck by a resemblance between Patterson and the professor. Sure, one is elderly and cultured, the other young and brutal. But they are both lean, and both look very hungry.<br/>
<br/>
Your spirit quails. Bad enough working under Patterson, but he looks like a baby kitten next to the professor's Bengal tiger. "I-- I really don't like this anymore," you stammer. Sweat breaks out all over your body.<br/>
<br/>
The professor stares at you for a few more long seconds, and then a bright but slightly sad smile appears on his lips. "I understand," he says soothingly. "You have your own life spread before you, and are not tempted to spend it living the life of others. Is that it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Something like that, I guess," you say. You don't want to tell him that he frightens the bejeebers out of you.<br/>
<br/>
"An admirable sentiment, Mr. Prescott, and one I fully respect. When I think of what I might have missed if I had not lived my own life, on my own terms--" His gaze briefly grows distant, but it's sharpened by hunger, not blurred by wistfulness. With a short sigh he stands and beckons you up as well. "I have a little business to discuss with Mr. Patterson, and then we will speak again. Tomlinson will show you to another room in the meantime." He rings a bell.<br/>
<br/>
"You got an offer for me," Patterson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course," says the professor. "We are highly impressed with you. You are Fane material if ever we saw it."<br/>
<br/>
A door opens and a trim man with thinning hair enters. The professor directs him to take you upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You end up in a small but lushly furnished bedroom dominated by a queen-sized bed under a magnificent canopy. Through heavily curtained windows you look out on a green lawn.<br/>
<br/>
But your gaze is turned inward. <i>How stupid can you be?</i><br/>
<br/>
Stupid enough to slam shut your only door on safety. The professor knows all about the book and the masks, and he knows there's a duplicate of you still in Saratoga Falls. There is no way that he and his colleagues at this "Fane" thing want you talking. It will be quite easy for them to take you down to that lawn, shoot you in the head, and bury you.<br/>
<br/>
Your hands go to the window, pressing to open it, but the locks are painted shut. The door? You doubt you can sneak out.<br/>
<br/>
And even if you could, you're in a foreign country, in clothes that are not your own, with no money.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe if you pleaded with them, promised to keep your mouth shut, got Patterson to help make your case?<br/>
<br/>
There's a second door into the room, and you jump as it opens. Speak of the devil--<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it's only you," Patterson grunts, and starts to close it again. <br/>
<br/>
"Wait! What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know as much as me. Looks like I got a job here. As for you--" His lips twist skeptically.<br/>
<br/>
"They're going to kill me," you whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"Probably." For a moment he looks troubled. "You had a good run, Prescott. Don't go to pieces at the end."<br/>
<br/>
"But maybe if I told him I changed my mind--"<br/>
<br/>
"Too late for that," he says. "I tried putting in a word for you, because, well--" He grimaces. "But whatsisnuts said it wouldn't do any good. Said you were acting on instinct, said he respected you for it, said he was actually glad you didn't peddle a line of shit. That's not the way he put it, but that's what he meant." Patterson's lip curls harder. "You told him you were a cock-up and a loser, and he's glad you told him yourself instead of making him find out on his own dime."<br/>
<br/>
Abruptly he shuts the door, and with a click locks it.<br/>
<br/>
You sink onto the edge of the bed and put your head in your hands.<br/>
<br/>
But the professor is not going to give you time to feel sorry for yourself. There are two soft knocks at the door, and the butler opens it. He doesn't have to say or do anything further. With head hanging low, you follow him back down the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
The professor is waiting in the atrium, an umbrella in his hand. He smiles widely at you. "I'm so sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Prescott, and would like to assure you there are no hard feelings on our end. It was an extraordinary offer for us to make, and I'll confess that I think you chose wisely. The best of luck to you, lad." He puts out that bony hand, and limply you return his elegant handshake.<br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't follow you out. The two men who had bundled you into the house now bundle you back into that Bentley. You watch anxiously as you drive along, and perk up when you realize you're returning to the airport. But you don't relax, even when you're back on that Gulfstream and have hurtled off the runway. Your morbid imagination would have to suggest that bodies can always be turned up with a spade; maybe they think it's safer to throw you into the middle of the Atlantic. The stewardess brings you an e-reader stocked with hundreds of titles, but you can't concentrate on them, and you treat the dinner--a roasted bird with potatoes--as a last meal. You doze in your seat rather than crawl into the small bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're woken with a bump, and the stewardess appears to tell you to fasten your belt. It's dark out, so you can't see where you're landing. But for the first time in hours you let yourself feel hope. If they're going to kill you, why go through the bother and expense of flying you someplace instead of just killing you in England? You peer anxiously at the lights gleaming in some small buildings as the plane stops, but can't make them out.<br/>
<br/>
After a few minutes you hear the door open. You peer into the front cabin. Then all hope deserts you.<br/>
<br/>
Eric Kim has clambered into the plane, and he has two of Straussler's goons with him.<br/>
<br/>
He looks crestfallen. "Dude!" he exclaims. "I heard what you told them back at headquarters. Oh, man, how could you be so--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just do whatever you have to do," you whine back. "I don't care anymore."<br/>
<br/>
Would that your heart didn't tell you it wanted to keep beating, for it is hammering at your chest like it wants to escape your fate.<br/>
<br/>
Eric chuckles. "Oh, come on, Will. Put away the funeral weeds. It's not gonna be like that." He sets a large bag onto a leather seat and rummages inside it, drawing out something that looks like a motorcycle helmet with its visor down. "They coulda done this a lot smoother back at HQ," he continues as he follows the helmet with what looks like a giant novelty flashlight. "But they wanted you back here for obvious reasons. Watch the birdie!" He points the flashlight at you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your head is muffled, and you blink hard and rub your eyes. The world remains dark. You turn around, frowning. <i>Where the hell are you? And why are you naked? Is that why you feel so cold?</i> You clap your arms about your torso and shiver hard. It feels cold enough to snow, which is an odd feeling for an August night. Is this Caleb's idea of a joke? The last thing you remember is agreeing to meet him out behind his house for one last private "end of summer" party before school starts next week.<br/>
<br/>
Lights blaze behind you, and you turn. You've barely time to make out the headlights before the car swerves past you. But not quite past. It clips you hard, and you tumble over his hood. You think you see the gray pavement rising to meet your face before the dark settles again even more firmly about you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>You sometimes get these cases of temporary amnesia when there's head trauma,</i> the doctor tells your parents. Though in this case, he admits, he doesn't see evidence of that much trauma.<br/>
<br/>
Your father glares at you as you lie bandaged in the hospital bed. Your mother clutches your hand; she's all cried out. "And you can't tell us <i>why</i> you were two miles from home, in the middle of the night, without your clothes on," he snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"He can't remember the last three months, Harris!" your mom wails.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is that where you were when something hit you?</i> You're not sure if you want the memories to return or not. It sounds like you might have been having a lot of fun, but if so, you don't want to remember if it means explaining it to your dad.<br/>
<br/>
You're out of school for a few weeks, then return. Despite it being close to the end of a semester you can't remember, no one cuts you any slack. You only narrowly pass your classes, and then only because you get a lot of surreptitious help from your friends. That's very decent of them, though there's something odd in their manner otherwise. You catch them sharing cryptic references to "all that weird shit in October," and once Caleb tries ripping your face off.<br/>
<br/>
You do better in the spring semester, and graduate. You get into Keyserling College. You even get a girlfriend your freshman year, and then another when the first breaks up with you. But memories of those three months never return, and you'd even forget that you ever lost them, except that it makes for a fun bit of trivia to share with your new friends.<br/>
<br/>
You graduate with a degree in computer science, but have to move back home because the job market sucks. And then one day something very peculiar happens.<br/>
<br/>
To continue: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/12231" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1942914">A Claw from the Past</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/12231" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122
author_id: seuzz
title: New Boss, Same as the Old Boss
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Whatever. It's not important. You call Patterson, and tell him that Gordon left you with the job of sealing up the two new masks, and that you're done. He just grunts and tells you leave the stuff out and go; he'll let you know later who your next target will be.<br/>
<br/>
You don't even clean up the mess.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's early Sunday afternoon, and Patterson still hasn't called you with a new job, so you call Caleb. "Wanna get together, see a movie? I got some free time."<br/>
<br/>
"Keith called and asked me to help him get Yumi. I said no."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're free too."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean it would be awkward if I spent time with you after telling him to fuck off."<br/>
<br/>
"You have a private life you're catching up on? Or are you still working on-- Who are you supposed to be getting?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm waiting to see what happens next," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, be an international man of mystery," you retort.  "I'll see you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably," he says cryptically before hanging up.<br/>
<br/>
You rub your chin. Keith was being a cunt yesterday, and it wasn't just the Cindy mask. But you've enough of a sense of loyalty that you call him up. "Are you still working on getting Yumi?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"In theory," he says glumly. "Was Patterson happy with your job?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess." Knowing you'll hate the answer whatever it is, you grit your teeth and ask, "You want some help with Yumi?"<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be great," he says, and as you'd guessed you don't like it. "Can we try it this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got nothing else to do. You still have Cindy's mask?" He makes a gagging noise. "I should go pick up one for myself. You want me to pick up a different one for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I still have Jessica's."<br/>
<br/>
"You really like to be her, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Be her. Do her. All around, yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna puke just thinking about it. Well, I'll get Eva, so we'll be a matched pair. See you in a bit."<br/>
<br/>
You don't make the same mistake as yesterday, and call Patterson ahead of time; he says he'll be at the fuck room, but you're free to swing by. "Glad to hear you're helping Tilley," he says. "He's taking a hell of a long time."<br/>
<br/>
But things take a much different turn when you arrive ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Patterson isn't there. Or, to be precise, no one who looks like him is there. Standing in the middle of the room is the blonde guy you copied yesterday. He is staring at the floor with his hands on his hips. You knock against the open door, for he seems not to have heard your entrance. He looks up sharply at the sound, and you feel yourself impaled on a bright, piercing glance. You swallow. "Checking out the new guy? Does he work?"<br/>
<br/>
He continues to stare, then jerks his shoulders. "Yeah. A good catch. Lucky." He sniffs and scratches his nose. "What made you pick him?"<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. "Kind of an accident. Keith told me that this one guy-- Straussler?" The names of archrivals so familiar to Seth have faded from your memory. "He said this guy was in the bathroom. But he wasn't, it was this other guy." You point at him. "So I took him. And he works for you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it was a lucky break," he says quietly. <br/>
<br/>
"Cool. Say, what's the deal with his name? It was all weird and shit. It pissed Gordon off when he saw it, because it was, like, the wrong name."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he says slowly. "'Joe' is a nickname. He, uh, he was originally from Germany, got adopted. So the mask shows his real name."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh." Like you'd suspected, a trivial answer to a trivial mystery. "Well, I need to pick up masks for me and Keith--"<br/>
<br/>
"I got a different job for you," he says. "More important than Yumi." He bites on a thumbnail. "Definitely more important than Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
You wait for amplification, but he says nothing. A moment later he strides across the room to the cabinets that hold the supplies. His movement is quick and light. To your immense interest, he takes the magic book out of its hiding place and studies a page carefully. He turns it and studies the next one. A small smile appears on his face, and he replaces the book.<br/>
<br/>
"You're on your-- what, fourth job?" he says as he continues to stare into the cabinet. "You help me with this job today, and we'll count it as a two-fer. That'll bump you up to senior level." Your heart skips. "But it's gonna be tricky," he cautions. "Because I wanna move fast."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the big deal?" you ask, but he doesn't answer. He takes out a mask and drums his fingers on it, then replaces it and takes out three more.<br/>
<br/>
"I need to borrow your phone," he says as he closes the secret cabinet. He looks you up and down critically. "Yeah, your phone." He holds out his hand.<br/>
<br/>
This is all rather puzzling, and even a little alarming, but you comply. His fingers dance over the keypad, and he winks at you as he puts the phone to his ear. "Hey Jessica," he laughs when the other person answers. "Don't you believe in screening your calls? You can't be that hard up for a date." <i>He's calling Jessica Garner?</i> "That's right!" he exclaims. "It's not my phone but it is me. Listen, I'm here with a friend, and him and his lady friend are going out to have some fun and asked me along. I said I would if I could make it a double date, and if I could make it a double date with you. Oh, no definite plans yet. Just an excuse to get together. With you, if possible." His grin widens. "Believe it or not, I'm over at Westside. My phone's recharging, so if something comes up, call me back at this number. I'll just meet you out in the parking lot in front of the gym.<br/>
<br/>
"That's your next job," he says as he hangs up. "Her name is Jessica Pearce, and she's a cheerleader out at Eastman. We're gonna score a copy of her, and then you're gonna impersonate her. That much you can do, right?" You nod. "Good. She'll be along in about thirty minutes, but go down and wait outside for her, in case she's early. I gotta polish up some stuff in here."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She must be keen to get together with this Joe fellow, for she only takes twenty minutes to show up. It's a little car, but driven by a girl with big breasts, that pulls up next to you. "Are you Joe's friend?" asks its driver as she rolls down the window. Her face is quite beautiful, but it's twisted up in an expression of distaste and skepticism. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. He's finishing up some stuff, he'll be along in--"<br/>
<br/>
"Down in a minute!" The clear voice rings from the window above, and you and Jessica both look up to see a blonde figure waving cheerily.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Will Prescott, by the way," you continue. <br/>
<br/>
She ignores your outstretched hand, and haughtily shakes her dark hair. "I'll go park over there," she sniffs, and pulls away. She doesn't step from the car after turning off the engine, and her whole manner leaves you disinclined to go talk to her.<br/>
<br/>
About five minutes later, Patterson appears, stepping with long, loose strides toward the girl's car. He bends in at the window, and then gestures you over. As you approach, you see that the girl is slumped forward. "Get in the back," Patterson orders, "and start taking off your clothes."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, what?!"<br/>
<br/>
"This is the girl you're going to be impersonating," he says impatiently. "I got the mask on her, and in a minute we're going to get the clothes off her. That way you can step in for her."<br/>
<br/>
"But what about her?" you ask in shock. "You can't just kidnap a naked girl and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I can," he retorts. "That's what <i>this</i> is for." He holds up a mask, then turns it over; to your shock, the name WILLIAM MARTIN PRESCOTT floats on the inner surface. <br/>
<br/>
You look up sharply at him. "Is <i>she</i> part of the club?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you numbnuts--"<br/>
<br/>
"But if you put my mask on her she'll know all about me, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't work like that in this case," Patterson says. "I told you I have a special goop that we can put inside masks, that makes it impossible for other people to wear them?" You nod uncertainly. "Well, I put some of that goop inside your mask. It makes the person who wears the mask ... Well, they kind of disappear. They go to sleep." He jerks his chin at the girl. "When I put it on her, she'll turn into you, but she'll be like Jeremy Richards. Just a golem, a thing that has to do what we say. So, we hide her by disguising her as you, and you go back out disguised as her." He puts his hands on his hips. "<i>Now</i> will you get in the car and get out of your clothes?"<br/>
<br/>
"But the, uh, the duplicate me will have to do what I say, won't it?" you press.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm, in this case, he'll have to do what <i>I</i> say," Patterson replies. <br/>
<br/>
You suck in your breath sharply. The thought of Patterson being in control of the "replacement you" while you're out doing a job for him is extremely disturbing.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211221
author_id: seuzz
title: A Date in Disguise
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your gut tells you it's a bad idea to let Patterson have control of your duplicate, but your brain tells you it's a worse idea to argue with him. You silently groan and crawl into the back seat of the car.<br/>
<br/>
At least there will be a compensation: while you are stripping, the mask reappears on the girl, and Patterson hands it to you. Once you are finished disrobing, you put it on.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have the feeling of waking from a nightmare, and groan. You raise your head, and bump it into something. With a muttered curse you grasp your head, and your hands clutch great fistfuls of hair. <i>Oooh.</i> A thrill runs through you.<br/>
<br/>
You glance over to the side, and see Joe Durras leaning in the window, grinning at you. It's a familiar grin: he seemingly can't help smiling, constantly. But there is something slightly malicious behind it, and your blood chills a little. You smile back tightly. "Well, here I am," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"And looking good, too," he teases. "Here." He hands you a tangle of clothes through the window. "Don't mind if I watch."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd probably have more fun watching as I took them off," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"More fun than I had watching this fucker take them off," he chortles. He jerks his head, and you look to see your own double--already dressed--peering down at you with embarrassment. <br/>
<br/>
"Is that ... her?" you stammer. "Jessica?"<br/>
<br/>
"Underneath, yeah, but she doesn't know it." His eyes drift up and down your frame. "God, I'd love to molest you."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait until I'm out of this thing and you can hang it on a golem," you snap as you hurriedly pull the panties on. "You didn't bring Jessica out here just so you could fuck her, did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," he allows. "But I can have fun while waiting for you to get ready."<br/>
<br/>
You do your best to ignore him while pulling on the rest of the clothes: bra, halter top, hip-hugging shorts, and sandals. You push him out of the way as you exit the car, and he grins: you have to resettle your boobs and adjust the top, which is riding up. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe later." His smile fades a little. "Okay, you need to call up the real guy, the real Joe Durras--forget about that German name--and get with him this afternoon. As soon as possible."<br/>
<br/>
"What for?" Suspicion darkens your brow.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think? He really does like you."<br/>
<br/>
"I bet. But I mean, what am I supposed to do with him? Just keep him out of the way?"<br/>
<br/>
He hands you another mask. "Get this onto him."<br/>
<br/>
"You already have a copy of him," you object, then glance down at the mask: There's a face floating in it. You turn it over: STEVEN PERCEVAL PATTERSON. "You're middle name's Perceval?" you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. Just get that onto him. It'll turn him into a golem, like this one here. Will you hold still?" he snaps at your double, who is jumping lightly in place, the way you do when you're bored and nervous. "He won't be your slave--naturally--but he'll know what to do, and that's to get back here as soon as possible."<br/>
<br/>
"And then?" The hair is rising on the back of your neck.<br/>
<br/>
"Then part two, but we'll talk about it then. Oh, two more things," he adds as you get into the car. "First, be careful what you say around him. If he asks you to repeat anything, especially like a limerick or a tongue twister, don't. Seriously--<i>don't.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just don't."<br/>
<br/>
"Just don't," you echo, and his eyes freeze. "Teasing. What's the second thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh." He leans in and rips a hard kiss from your mouth. "Okay, on your way." He drums the top of your car and grins.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe Durras's eyes twinkle merrily as he hops into the car. "This is a nice surprise, Jess," he says. "You have something special planned?"<br/>
<br/>
You jump a little. "No," you say. "Like I said on the phone, I was just thinking we could hang out."<br/>
<br/>
"The best kind of plans start with hanging out, but they <i>progress,</i>" he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't mind a little progress, of the right sort," you say as you pull into the street. "But hanging out would be a nice start. We haven't done a lot of that since you and your brother moved to town."<br/>
<br/>
"We haven't done any. Turn right at the next street." He looks over at you. "You don't hang out much with the other guys."<br/>
<br/>
"They don't hang out much with me," you correct him. Since you've let Jessica Pearce's personality come to the fore, you feel yourself tense, as she would.<br/>
<br/>
Joe continues to gaze at you, and he leans back and drapes his arm in a way that puts his hand near your shoulder. "That's something I don't get. You ought to be Miss Popularity."<br/>
<br/>
You tense a little more. "That's Alyssa's job description."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," he says quietly. "Yeah, I guess it is. There can only be one?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Turn left when you hit Becker." He tucks your hair back. It's a nice feeling, and you smile over at him. He's awfully good looking, and a kind of golden light seems to linger around him. "I wish you'd come sit with us, when you see me and Frank."<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe just you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he laughs. "Or just him. Don't let that whole 'I'm so intense' act fool you. He's a pussy cat."<br/>
<br/>
"He can be a little scary. You're more like a-- Oh, I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"A goofball. I know. Listen, I want you know that no one, not Alyssa or Ian or Jenny or anyone, has ever said anything against you, not to me or my brother."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help pursing your lips. "Still, you know you shouldn't hang out with me. I'm not a good person." The last bit comes out very acidic.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not? That's good. No wide-eyed, eager, wholesome, innocent, Sunday School teacher for me. I'm not a bad guy, but I'm not very good, either."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm not a bad person either, no matter what <i>they</i> say. Where are we going?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you when to turn again. But I told you, <i>they</i> haven't said anything."<br/>
<br/>
"But you know who <i>they</i> are."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course. I'm a moron, but I'm not stupid. What did you do to them?"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>exist.</i> That's enough." The dark cloud in your head coalesces into a lump and drops into your stomach.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah. Well, maybe between the three of us we can show them that you <i>do</i> exist. Don't you have <i>any</i> friends? I mean, you <i>are</i> on the cheerleader squad. Things can't be <i>that</i> bad for you."<br/>
<br/>
"What do <i>you</i> know about things being bad," you retort, and his smile dries up under your sudden, hot glare. "So many stupid people at that school, and they're all so <i>good,</i> except they <i>aren't.</i>" You grip the steering wheel. "Buncha freaking hypocrites."<br/>
<br/>
"What do they do to you?" he quietly asks.<br/>
<br/>
"What you've seen and heard. Nothing. They just dig a ditch around me, and make sure no one crosses it."<br/>
<br/>
"Have <i>you</i> tried crossing it?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think I'm doing now, Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
He touches you. He lays his hand on the base of your neck and caresses it. "We can go wherever you want," he says. "But Farm Road is coming up in a few blocks."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it's like that."<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't have to be." He squeezes the base of your neck gently. "It's up to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be good to me, Joe," you say, and there's a ragged edge to your voice. "Be awesome or be awful, but don't be <i>good</i> to me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's like honey flowing into you, thick and soft and sweet and nurturing. You suck on his tongue and lips, and he sucks on yours, and you just want to pull his whole mouth into yours, and it feels like he wants to do the same to you. You have to break it off, though, or you'll lose yourself. "Oh God," you gasp as you come up for air.<br/>
<br/>
He's holding you loosely, though, even though you're straddling his lap, and you can feel his erection through his shorts. It feels like a big one, but so deeply are you into Jessica that you don't mind or flinch. "You're <i>starving,</i> girl," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"And you're a feast." You nibble at his lips, and he starts to bite yours, but you pull back and sag and rest your forehead against his. "I really don't want this to stop, but--" You bite back a sudden rush of remorse, and slowly reach for your purse.<br/>
<br/>
"But what? You just wanna talk a little?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll have lots of time to talk, I guess, but it won't be the same, probably." You rub your forehead on his nose. "Close your eyes and just let me look at you a moment." He raises his eyebrows. "It's hard when you're looking back at me. I just want to drink you in a moment."<br/>
<br/>
He turns pink, and smiles, but shuts his eyes. You gaze at him a moment, and hesitate. He opens one eye, and you press it shut with your thumb. <br/>
<br/>
And then you've got the mask out and against his face.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson's face instantly appears, and a leer instantly forms on his lips. "Well, ain't this cozy, Prescott," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's like a kick in the stomach to drive into the Westside lot and see Joe Durras again, leaning against the wall. "Good work," he says as he leans in the window after you've pulled up, and his tone is cool and impersonal. "Help me with one more, and you'll be set."<br/>
<br/>
You're revolted by the thought of going off with this impostor.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211
author_id: seuzz
title: His Brother's Keeper
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Do I need to change?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I like you just the way you are," he laughs. "I need to change, though." He looks over at the fake Patterson. "Let's step inside and finish off this swap." The golem gets out of the car. "We'll be back in a minute. Keep the car running."<br/>
<br/>
You put on the parking brake and drum your fingers as you wait. You glance in the rear-view mirror, and Jessica's pinched and unhappy face looks back. With a sigh you straighten your hair and try to relax. Unhappiness seems to come naturally to Jessica. You pull your hair back, and your jawline tightens. <i>If you were in charge, the way you ought to be--</i> Yes, with this face and these legs and these buns and these breasts ... You cup them and smile grimly down at them; they are so tender and sensitive, and feel so good in your hands ... You close your eyes ... Boys are so stupid, they should be easy to manage with these assets, and it would feel so good to have a good-looking hunk sucking on them and promising to do whatever you told him--<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you can do that on your own time." You jump at the sound of Joe Durras's rough but amused voice, and look up guiltily. It's the one you picked up-- No, it's just Patterson, now dressed like the real one. He dashes around the car to the passenger side and hops in. "Okay, back to my house. This guy's house." He drums his chest.<br/>
<br/>
Grimly, you drive off; in the rear-view mirror you see the fake Patterson get into his own car and follow. <br/>
<br/>
"So, what did you and Durras do on your date?" your seatmate asks. His smile seems a horrible parody of the real Joe's.<br/>
<br/>
"Talked."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all? Man, you really do deserve your reputation."<br/>
<br/>
"And what reputation is that?" Jessica's personality is still near the surface.<br/>
<br/>
"A frigid bitch. No one's good enough for you." You bite your lip at the blunt words. "Don't take it personally, Prescott. You're not really this girl, you know. Though I guess you can stay as her, if you want, after we're done this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"What about the real girl?"<br/>
<br/>
"She can stay where she is. Who would miss her, as long as you're filling the hole she's left behind? You can do her perfectly, I can tell."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to stay as Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't decided yet," he says, and pulls back to his side of the car.<br/>
<br/>
"What's so important about him?" you ask after a bit.<br/>
<br/>
"None of your business. And don't go getting ideas about snooping inside this mask. While you were gone I coated it with some of that special goop. I'm the only one who can wear it now."<br/>
<br/>
You don't mention the other possibility, that you can get to the real Joe Durras if you can get the Patterson mask off him. "Well, I'm only a junior member of this team, so I guess I have to do what you say."<br/>
<br/>
"You'll be a senior member after we get Joe's brother, but I'm serious when I say you need to stay away from Joe and Frank." He purses his lips. "Look, let's just say I'm laying an exclusive claim to them. Senior members get to make exclusive claims. Since I've picked two, you'll get to pick two. Is that fair?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he continues. "I've picked two. Gordon will get to pick two. Then Caleb, and then you."<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb?" you ask in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he met his quota yesterday. We'll get together tomorrow--" He taps his knuckle furiously on the window, and frowns. "We'll get together somehow and talk about things."<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the drive--which isn't long--passes in silence, each of you wrapped up in your own thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Are you still <i>studying?</i>" Joe hollers as he walks in the front door. He has an arm draped around your neck, and--per his instructions--you've an arm wrapped around his waist.<br/>
<br/>
It's a small house, and through the entryway you can see a small living room and dining nook. Frank Durras--tall, dark, and saturnine--sits at the table with books and papers spread around him. He looks up and takes the pencil out of his mouth. "Some of us care about our grades, Joe," he says quietly. His gaze flicks in your direction before returning to his brother.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, lemme do your homework for you, then we can go have some fun."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were on a double date," Frank says. <br/>
<br/>
"Meh, the other guys fell through. We can scare up a girl for you, though. It's not like you can get one on your own."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks for all the offers to help me out," Frank says dryly. "But I'm not sure I can trust you."<br/>
<br/>
Joe releases you and saunters over to the table, where he leans over Frank's shoulder and examines his work. "You forgot to carry the two," he says, and presses a finger to a spot on the paper.<br/>
<br/>
"See what I mean?" Frank frowns. "You don't carry numbers in <i>chemistry.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't?" Joe grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck off."<br/>
<br/>
Joe chuckles and leans back against the bar behind Frank. From under his shirt he takes a mask and slips it behind his back. "All I know is that I'm a hell of a lot faster than you. If you let me do your work for you, you'd have more time to-- Well, whatever it is that you'd do if you had more time." He looks up at you, and his eyes narrow meaningfully.<br/>
<br/>
So you drop into the chair opposite Frank. "I wouldn't trust him either, Frank. Everyone knows your brother is an idiot."<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone's a quicker study than he is, that's for sure." Frank's laugh is very quiet and dry.<br/>
<br/>
Behind him, Joe takes a step forward. Maybe it's coincidence or maybe it's a kind of sixth sense, but Frank quickly turns his head in time to catch the movement. Joe raises his eyebrows into an expression of innocence, but Frank keeps staring at him.<br/>
<br/>
"I wish you'd do something with us," you say, conscious that you're babbling. "Maybe not a double date, but something." Frank turns his head fractionally so he can look sidelong at you, but Joe remains pinned to the floor. "Joe and me had a really good talk. He's a really nice guy, and I feel like I got to know him. I'd like to get to know you."<br/>
<br/>
Frank's eyes glitter like mica. His lips part into something halfway between a tight smile and a snarl. You shiver at the sudden impression of a wolf lurking just below his skin.<br/>
<br/>
Joe moves, and Frank darts back around at him, but Joe has moved more quickly still, and has an arm around his neck and the mask to his face. Frank lunges backward at his brother--<br/>
<br/>
And Joe's face turns very white and very crimson, and his mouth drops open. He seems frozen in place, but it's the frozen posture of someone who feels himself clasped tightly. Both brothers remain in their motionless positions for what seems a very long minute--<br/>
<br/>
And then Frank, fatally, shifts his head by just a bit, and brings his face too close to the mask. His back arches, and Joe, with a gasp, relaxes and staggers back. Frank rises half out of his chair with the blue mask latched onto his face, then collapses backward into his chair. The mask disappears into him, and he slides to the floor with a bump.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, that was close," Joe gasps, and falls back against the bar. He takes a couple of deep breaths, then fastens his eyes on you. They flash with anger. "You could have been a <i>little</i> more of a help."<br/>
<br/>
"I was doing my best to distract him," you insist.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, with Frank you--" He closes his mouth with a snap. "Never mind, it all worked out okay. But fuck!" He pulls a phone out of his pocket and quickly dials. "Yeah, we're set. Get in here," he says into it, then turns it off. "Come around here," he orders you. "I'm gonna take this mask off, and I want you to wake me up as soon as it's off.  We don't have time to fuck around." He drops to the ground next to the prostrate Frank Durras, and reaches up to his face. <br/>
<br/>
As Patterson's own features reappear, his eyes go in and out of focus and close as his head lolls. With more satisfaction than you know is appropriate, you slap him hard across the cheek. He grunts, and his eyes pop open again. You slap him again. "Christ," he gasps. You slap him a third time. "Okay, that's enough!" he cries.<br/>
<br/>
Behind you comes the sound of a door opening, and the golem-Patterson steps into the house. "Over here," Patterson calls to it, and orders it onto the ground, where he pulls its face off. Joe Durras's face reappears, and Patterson drops the free mask onto him. Joe's features remain, but his eyes open.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?" you ask in horror.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I put that special goop inside his mask," Patterson says. "He's a slave. Aren't you, Durras?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe's features settle into an expression that mixes stoicism, sadness, and loathing. "Yeah," he murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Fifteen minutes later, you are sitting at the table with the enslaved Joe Durras and two versions of Steve Patterson--the other is Frank Durras under a mask. The real Patterson is brushing the inside of Frank Durras's mask with a foul-smelling mixture. "So what now?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Just what I was about to ask you," he says. "As soon as I get this done, it goes back on Frank, and I swap back with Joe. So, I'll be at Eastman, starting this week. You can join me there, or you can go back to Westside.<br/>
<br/>
"You're a senior member now," he continues. "So I'm leaving it up to you."<br/>
<br/>
* Non-canonical choice "Back to Westside": "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/11123122212212212111112221111221122111" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 2236945">The New Seniors</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/11123122212212212111112221111221122111" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122111
author_id: seuzz
title: Senior Secrets
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll go back to Westside," you say. "You sound like you want Eastman to yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's not that," Patterson says as he continues to work. "I just want you to leave these guys to me. There are a lot of good possibilities at Eastman, and I'll be scoring some for us." Still, you demur, and he sighs. "It would be easier if you stuck around as Jessica," he says, "but okay, I'll handle it. Call your double and get him out here."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't he have to do what <i>you</i> say?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That</i> draws an exasperated glance.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be so pissy, Prescott. You'll find a couple of blank masks in the cupboard back at the VIP room. The combination is 41-3-32. Make another copy of yourself, and when we get together on Monday we'll rig it up so only you can use it. Then we'll get rid of the old one."<br/>
<br/>
"Will you be letting me use the book?"<br/>
<br/>
His mouth tightens. "I'll be keeping it with me. There's lots of stuff in it I need to study."<br/>
<br/>
"What have you been doing all this time?"<br/>
<br/>
Now his expression is icy. "Just call your dipshit duplicate and get him out here."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a complicated set of changeovers that ensues, but when it's done, you're back in your own skin and clothes, even though Jessica is still trapped under a mask that copies you.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll go off and let Jessica out," the Joe-disguised Patterson says. "I'll get that mask back to you tomorrow, but you'll have to hide it or destroy it, even though it won't be any use except to anyone but me." <br/>
<br/>
"A pretty good reason to get rid of it," you mumble under your breath.<br/>
<br/>
He seems to catch your meaning if not your words.<br/>
<br/>
"We're equals now, Prescott," he snaps. "Don't give me a reason to keep treating you like a foot soldier." You shrug and kick at the ground. "If you want something to do, go help Tilley with Yumi. Or go get together with Johansson. You'll find him at Javits's."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you," he sighs. "Johansson finished his jobs up yesterday. He's senior. He's pretending to be Javits. Get him to explain things to you, since you're being so stupid."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's early evening by now, and you feel breathless, harried, worn out, and confused. Mostly, you'd just like to go home. But you want to get this "senior level" business sorted out, and you know you won't be able to relax until you do. You call Caleb's phone. "Where are you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Home."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you sure you're not at Seth Javits's house?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause. "Who says I'd be out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson. He says you're off pretending to be Javits."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb sighs. "Well, yes, technically. You don't know how weird it is to say that."<br/>
<br/>
A shiver runs up your spine. "So, the guy I'm talking to now is a golem?"<br/>
<br/>
Another long pause. "I guess," he grumbles, "and thanks for reminding me."<br/>
<br/>
"Just being clear on things. Do you have Javits's phone number?" He gives it to you. "Thanks. See you at school tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Depends. It might be a golem you send to sit next to me in first period."<br/>
<br/>
You hang up without replying, which is rude, but it's just a golem. You call Javits. The phone rings a while, before he answers with a guarded but impatient "Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey man, I'm looking for Caleb Johansson. Is he there?"<br/>
<br/>
These conversations are going to get tedious, what with all the silences that meet your questions. "Why the fuck are you looking for that homo here?" Seth asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't bullshit me. You're talking to a senior member of the body swappers' club."<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson?" he says, choking a little.<br/>
<br/>
You briefly cover the phone with your hand as you laugh. "Yeah, sure. I need to talk to you. Can you turn loose?"<br/>
<br/>
"Give me thirty minutes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Meet me out at the old elementary school by Prescott's house."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Fuck you," Seth snarls after you've confessed. "I had to send Cindy home!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's the big deal? You can have her any time you want now, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not like in the mood she was in. We were <i>really</i> getting affectionate, and she wasn't holding back for once."<br/>
<br/>
"There'll be other times," you sigh. "Patterson said I should talk to you about all this senior level stuff."<br/>
<br/>
He glowers at you. Seth Javits isn't a big guy, but he's taller than you, and has big shoulders. When he puts his hands on his hips you have the definite impression it would hurt if he hit you. "Fine," he snaps. "What do you want to know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where's the real Javits?"<br/>
<br/>
"Under a mask, pretending to be me."<br/>
<br/>
"But he doesn't know it, right? Because there's some special goop inside his mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"You got it, so why do I have to explain it to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I wanna know if this is what the whole 'senior level' means. Down at the junior level, we could only sneak around as other people, and couldn't get caught. Are you saying now that we can actually ... replace them. With ourselves?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. You get your mask back from Patterson, and it'll have this stuff in it—"<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"The way he explained it to me, it's like a portable golem. It's like this shell made of the same stuff that golems are made of. You put it inside a mask, and then when you put the mask on someone, that shell closes around them and turns them into a golem. Then the mask disguises them as some other person. But because they're a golem, they don't know where they are. And they're under the control of whoever made that golem shell. Or something." He shrugs impatiently. "Patterson used some of my hair when he put the shell inside my mask. I guess that's how come the fake me has to be my slave."<br/>
<br/>
"What happens if you take the mask off them? Do they stay a golem?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's not like what we did to Richards. They go back to being themselves. Except they don't remember anything. The stuff they were doing while they were in a mask, I mean." He snaps his fingers at you. "Remember when you put on Richards' mask, and you didn't remember anything after I got it off you? It's like that for them."<br/>
<br/>
You shiver a little at the memory, then scratch your cheek thoughtfully. "So, you get to be Javits for as long as you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"Now you got it. Are we done here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is Javits's mask, like, your property? You own it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, it belongs to the team. We can share it, it doesn't have any of that shit in it. I picked Javits because, you know, Cindy. Also, you get to use any of the masks that anyone makes. Except, you know, the ones that are copies of other people. Why didn't Patterson explain any of this to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"He was busy with other things. I helped him out this afternoon, helped him get a couple of Eastman people. I guess we'll have a club meeting tomorrow, and there's gonna be some changes. I think he's moving over there."<br/>
<br/>
Seth stares. "Sweet!" he exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
But then his face falls. "Except that'll leave us alone with Black and Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe they'll go off with Patterson." You suck a cheek in, and gnaw on it. "I wish I knew what was going to happen next."<br/>
<br/>
"What happens next is that you get yourself a new face, a new identity." He waggles his eyebrows. "Cindy is available."<br/>
<br/>
You flip him off. "I need to make a mask of myself first."<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't Patterson set you up?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I'll probably have to wait until tomorrow afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
He groans. "Then why don't you go home and let <i>me</i> get back to <i>Cindy?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Monday.</i> "So what the <i>fuck</i> happened to <i>you</i> yesterday?" Keith's shrill voice is almost a scream as he punches your locker door with his fist. It's just before first period. "Where the <i>fuck</i> were you?" You keep your composure; you knew this scene would be coming. "I waited and I called and I waited and I called, and you never even called me back!"<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson grabbed me for another job."<br/>
<br/>
That catches him short, but only for a moment. "And how long did it fucking take, that you couldn't call me when you were done?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Late.</i> Two jobs and then clean up."<br/>
<br/>
He pales. "Christ, what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you later. Maybe at the club meeting."<br/>
<br/>
"And what kind of club would have you fuckers as members?" Tilley freezes at the sound of Seth Javits' voice. "Been too long since we've hung out, Tilley," he continues as he grabs Keith. "Let's talk." He winks at you as he drags the hapless Keith through the crowded halls.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Instead of meeting Keith at lunch, you go up into the VIP room and look through the cabinets. There are nearly a dozen masks to pick from: Eva and Jessica Garner; Lisa and Geoff; Anthony Kirk and Cindy Vredenburg; Laurent Delacroix and Kendra Saunders and Cassie Harper; Karl Hennepin and Maria Vasquez (the last two a surprise). There are also masks of Keith and Jason Lynch, but those are off limits.<br/>
<br/>
While you're staring at the choices, your phone rings. "The fuck are you?" Keith shrilly demands when you pick up.<br/>
<br/>
"The cafeteria." It is like a cafeteria of choices before you.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you eating in there for? I'm stuck here with this robot copy of Johansson, and it's freaking me out!"<br/>
<br/>
"So go eat with Carson and them."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll just follow me out to them."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll follow if you come find me. Deal with it." You hang up, and ignore the rings when Keith tries calling back.<br/>
<br/>
Who to be? Well, it depends on what you want, doesn't it? <br/>
<br/>
For a start, do you want to continue hanging out close to Keith and Caleb (and the other club members) still? Or do you want to put some distance between you and them?</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211221111
author_id: seuzz
title: New Bosses
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Keith is already at the school, jogging across the Westside student parking lot, when you arrive  that evening. It's after seven, but that's the earliest that everyone could meet for the club meeting. Patterson was tied up at Eastman until five o'clock, by which point dinner plans started to intrude.<br/>
<br/>
"How'd your make-out session with Javits go this morning?" you shout at Tilley as you hustle to catch up to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," he shouts back. "You and Johansson can go fuck yourselves!"<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, that bad?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking selfish rat-bastards, that's what <i>you</i> are!" At least he slows up enough to let you catch up—probably the better to rain spittle in your face as he yells at you. "I knock myself out to help you guys make your quota, but when it's my turn, oh no, Tilley has to do his own dirty work!"<br/>
<br/>
"So I'll help you get Yumi tonight or tomorrow, and then the others."<br/>
<br/>
Keith's eyes blaze. "That's not what Johansson said! He said I had to do it myself!"<br/>
<br/>
"So <i>he's</i> being the fucking selfish rat-bastard. Don't mix me up with him."<br/>
<br/>
Keith's eyes narrow. "He said it was an order from Patterson. Senior people don't help junior people. They have to do it themselves."<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "First I've heard of this. But come on, I'll help you out, even if it's a secret."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm still mad at you," he growls as he turns back toward the gym. There's a bunch of cars parked next to it, so you guess that you and he are both late. "You told me to go fuck myself at lunch!"<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "I was busy."<br/>
<br/>
"Doing what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Thinking about stuff. Come on, don't be mad at me. You do want my help, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
He flinches without answering.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The others are already up in the loft, waiting impatiently: Gordon Black, Jason Lynch, Seth Javits (really Caleb); Patterson is there too, but now he's done up like Frank Durras. <br/>
<br/>
"About time," he snaps at you and Keith "I've just been explaining to the others how things are going to change." He folds his arms and leans against a crate. "Gordon and I are moving over to Eastman. That'll leave Johansson and Prescott in charge over here until Tilley and Lynch gets their jobs done." <br/>
<br/>
Lynch flushes. Seth flashes you a surreptitious grin.<br/>
<br/>
"They'll also be in charge of the VIP room here," Patterson continues, "and all the masks that go with this school. We expect you to make a lot more masks, and not just the ones Tilley and Lynch still have to secure. But for the time being, Johansson is in charge of scheduling for this place. If you want the room, talk to him."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I have to do my jobs by myself?" Keith bluntly asks, and you wince at the challenge in his tone. "Or do these guys get to help me?" He jerks his chin at you and Seth.<br/>
<br/>
"The point of being a junior member is that you have to prove you can do your jobs without the help of seniors," Patterson says. "Lynch is still junior, you and him can help each other."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft," Jason says, which puts that idea in a coffin and buries it under a marble slab of hostility. Keith flushes and hangs his head.<br/>
<br/>
"And you should have fun while you can," Patterson continues. "I'm researching some new spells in that book, and we may have to re-calibrate our hierarchy. Right now it's junior and senior memberships. We may have to add more layers. Maybe bump juniors and seniors down to freshman and sophomore, and introduce new top levels."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean we might have to go back to doing jobs?" Seth asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. I'll have to see what else turns up in the book." He surveys everyone in the room with a glittering eye. "Okay, that's it for now."<br/>
<br/>
He and Gordon and Jason leave together. There's silence for a moment after they've gone, then Seth raises his fists over his head and dances in place. "Score! This school is <i>ours</i> now, bitches!"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean it's yours and Prescott's," Keith retorts. "Come on, you guys gotta help me get Yumi!"<br/>
<br/>
"No we don't," Seth says. "You heard Steve. Do it yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"I helped you guys! I helped you get Cindy!"<br/>
<br/>
"And I helped you get Seth. Who else did you help me with?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. "Well, okay, only with Cindy. But I helped Prescott with that Eastman guy!"<br/>
<br/>
"And I also helped you with Seth," you reply, seeing what Caleb is getting at. "Who else?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith turns very red. "You mean you're <i>not</i> going to help me?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're all even on helping each other out," Seth says with a smirk. "If you want my help, you can get to Yumi by pretending to be Cindy." He turns to you while Keith curses long and hard under his breath. "So what's next for you? Gonna get yourself a new face, like I did?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't answer directly, but go over to the cabinets to examine the masks therein. Seth follows. "You know, it doesn't have to be one of these guys," he reminds you, and hangs an arm around your shoulder. "We can make you a new one. Lemme help you score some dumb asshole who likes to hang out with Javits."<br/>
<br/>
You still don't answer. He's right that you don't have to settle for taking the place of someone you've already copied. But neither do you have to pick a new identity right away. You could just cycle through the possibilities that are laid out there in front of you. Not only would you get a taste of some new lives, but you'd also get leads on some other possible lives.<br/>
<br/>
Also, in cycling through these masks, you could start fulfilling Patterson's order to make new masks, by using these temporary identities to get at some new people.<br/>
<br/>
Seth nods when you tell him that you want to try out a couple of the masks, to get a feel for what's out there. "Start with Eva or Jessica," he says. "They hang out with Cindy, so you could hang out with us too."<br/>
<br/>
"And you could help me get close to Yumi," Keith puts in.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," Seth says.<br/>
<br/>
"Or," you tell Seth, "you could get me a mask of someone on the basketball team. Or some other 'asshole' that Javits likes to hang out with."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," he replies with a grin. But he also bends forward to tap Laurent Delacroix's mask. "Delacroix'd be a good choice. And if I'm in charge up here, I could set it up so he—and what I mean by 'he' is that <i>you</i>—could take some of his girls up here. Do your thing with 'em—with <i>his</i> thing, sure. But get copies of 'em while you got 'em up here. Pretty sure that's how come Patterson and Black wanted a mask of him in the first place."<br/>
<br/>
"And I bet Laurent could get Yumi up here," Keith pipes up.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not telling you to shut the fuck up again."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Or,</i> you muse to yourself, <i>if I really wanted to help Keith, I could get a blank mask onto Jenny Ashton, and disguise myself as her just long enough to help him get a blank mask onto Yumi.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning, after sleeping on it, you've decided on:</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211221112
author_id: seuzz
title: New Bosses, Practically the Same as the Old Bosses
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Keith is already at the school, jogging across the Westside student parking lot, when you arrive  that evening. It's after seven, but that's the earliest that everyone could meet for the club meeting. Patterson was tied up at Eastman until five o'clock, by which point dinner plans started to intrude.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you're late!" you shout at Tilley as you hustle to catch up to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," he shouts back. "You and Johansson can go fuck yourselves!"<br/>
<br/>
"What did I do?"<br/>
<br/>
"You told me to go fuck myself at lunch!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I didn't!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes you did! I told you I wanted to shake off—!" He makes a face as you catch up to him. "I wound up having to eat lunch with Hollister and Montoya and them!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"My YouTube buddies."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know who you're talking about."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you." He wheels and stalks off toward the gym. You hang back with a grimace to let him build up a lead again, then trudge slowly after.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The others are already up in the loft, waiting impatiently: Gordon Black, Jason Lynch, Seth Javits (really Caleb); Patterson is there too, but now he's done up like Frank Durras. <br/>
<br/>
"There you are," he snaps as you enter. "I've just been explaining how things are going to change around here," he says, and folds his arms and leans against a crate.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon and I are moving over to Eastman," he continues. "That'll leave Johansson and Prescott in charge here until Tilley and Lynch gets their jobs done. Since Johansson is playing Javits now, talk to him if you want to schedule time up here." <br/>
<br/>
Seth flashes you a surreptitious grin.<br/>
<br/>
"But that doesn't mean you slack off on getting masks," Patterson continues. "You'll want more masks anyway. That's the whole fucking point of this club. Making copies of girls that you can fuck. And have your fun while you can," he goes on. "I'm researching some new spells in that book, and we may have to re-calibrate our hierarchy, add more levels." <br/>
<br/>
"You mean we might have to go back to doing jobs?" Seth asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. Depends on what else turns up in the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I have to do my jobs by myself?" Keith bluntly asks, and you wince at the challenge in his tone. "Or do these guys get to help me?" He jerks his chin at you and Seth.<br/>
<br/>
"Junior members gotta prove they can handle it without help from the senior guys," Patterson says. "Lynch is still junior, you and him can help each other."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft," Jason says. Keith flushes and hangs his head.<br/>
<br/>
Any other questions, Patterson asks. You hesitate, then say, "I need a new mask of myself."<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "That's right. There's blanks in the cabinet. Make one, get it over to me, and I'll finish it up for you." He looks around. "Is that all? Okay then."<br/>
<br/>
He and Gordon and Jason leave together. There's silence for a moment after they've gone, then Seth raises his fists over his head and dances in place. "Score! The school is <i>ours</i> now, bitches!"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean it's yours," Keith retorts. "Come on, you guys gotta help me get Yumi!"<br/>
<br/>
"No we don't," Seth says. "You heard Steve. Do it yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"I helped you guys! I helped you get Cindy!"<br/>
<br/>
The argument makes you tired, and you turn on your heel and stalk out of the loft and down the stairs. You're hunched on one of the bleachers when Seth finds you a little later. "Who pissed in your cereal?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No one. I just got sick of Keith." <i>And you,</i> you don't add.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah!" He chortles. "Man, I really do get it these days, how come Javits so much wants to twist Tilley's head off his neck and use it as a football."<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. "That's the biggest reason you should be helping him out. Get him up to our level so he can stop being himself."<br/>
<br/>
"Rules are rules, man." He drops down next to you and slaps your thigh. "So who are you gonna be? You're not gonna keep on like this, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have to think about it," you reply, and get to your feet. "And I need someplace quiet to think about it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you have the hardest time concentrating.<br/>
<br/>
The trouble, you decide, is that you have too many choices. You know where you <i>don't</i> want to be: in a situation close to the others. But there's a whole world out there where you wouldn't be close to them.<br/>
<br/>
At the same time, it's pretty clear that Patterson isn't going to let you just vanish completely into a new life. You are still going to be a member of the club, and you're going to have to have a plausible excuse for picking someone who keeps aloof from the other members.<br/>
<br/>
Which means you'll have to pick someone who (you can tell Patterson) will be a big help in scoring him those masks he is asking for.<br/>
<br/>
It's when you get that insight that you figure out how to start narrowing your choices down.<br/>
<br/>
The first option is to simply find someone who is part of some very distant social group. With his "YouTube buddies," Keith has already hinted at one way of doing this. You don't know who these guys are he's talking about, but you could probably make a secret deal with him, trading your help in getting a copy of Yumi in return for his help in replacing one of these other "buddies." Or, if he's unhelpful about that, you can just find some other place to hide. In the marching band or orchestra, or in the theater set, or somewhere like that.<br/>
<br/>
A second option is to follow Patterson's lead, and move into a new school.<br/>
<br/>
And if Patterson doesn't want you to leave Westside, you could just move down a couple of grades, where (you could tell him) it would be easier to get copies of juniors and sophomores and even freshmen. <br/>
<br/>
It's while thinking about how to get sophomores or freshmen that a really out-of-the-box idea comes to you: How about being a teacher? You'd have your choice of students then, and as a teacher you'd naturally be aloof from the others.<br/>
<br/>
You get one more idea the next morning, on the way in to school, when you catch sight of Carson Ioeger and James Lamont loping along in front of you. They're friends that you could get to real easily, and they're a couple of pranksters, and Javits, Patterson, Black and Lynch are their most frequent victims. Patterson would probably approve if you told him you wanted to replace Carson or James directly, or one of their friends.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Regardless of where you move, you are going to have to leave a golem of yourself behind. So, as you have twenty minutes before first period is due to start, you decide to get a start on that by slipping up to the loft to get a blank mask.<br/>
<br/>
The varsity basketball team is at practice when you look inside the gym, and nothing about it looks out of the ordinary. There's Gordon Black and Steve Patterson, running the team in drills up and down the court. It's not the real Patterson, of course, and you doubt it's the real Gordon. And you know the Seth Javits who catches your eye with a cold look is a fake. So you're not shy about slipping around the corner to the staircase that goes up to the fuck room. At the top, you let yourself in.<br/>
<br/>
You have a blank mask and are just closing up the cabinet when you hear footsteps on the stairs outside, but still you don't panic. But neither do you relax when Javits appears in the doorway. "Hey," he says. "What are you doing up here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Getting started on the day," you reply. "You got a problem with that?"<br/>
<br/>
He glances back down the stairs, then beckons you over.<br/>
<br/>
"Stow it in your bag," he says, indicating the mask. "And brace yourself. I'm gonna have to make this look good."<br/>
<br/>
"Make what look good?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Instead of answering, he beckons you out onto the small landing, then closes and locks the loft door. He points again at your bag. Slowly—and now with a creeping dread—you pack the mask in your bag. Javits picks it up, and hurls it down the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
Then he seizes you by the back of the shirt and throws you down the stairs after it. Only by catching yourself halfway down do you save yourself (perhaps) from a broken neck at the bottom.<br/>
<br/>
Javits jumps down after you, and with a shove to the ribs knocks you the rest of the way down. At the bottom he grabs you by the shirt and drags you onto the gym floor. "And you stay the fuck outta where you're not supposed to be!" he screams as he throws you at the gym doors.<br/>
<br/>
You get to your feet with a burning face, retrieve your pack, and hurry out.<br/>
<br/>
But that's only the start. Javits is waiting for you outside Mr. Walberg's class when first period ends, and he seizes and hustles you through the hallways and all the way back to the gym. Even then he doesn't relent, but kicks and punches you in the back as he forces you up the stairs. Only at the top, outside the fuck room door, does he relent. And even then he has a pinched look on his face as he opens the loft door and pushes you inside.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, are we done here?" you demand as you nurse your bruises. Seth closes the door behind him, and locks it.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, man," he says. "I told you, I had to make it look good. Gordon was watching me."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that the real Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck if I know. Does it matter?" He shakes his head. "I thought I was gonna be in charge, but—" He bites off the thought. "You got a new place picked out for yourself?"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211121
author_id: seuzz
title: Gimme Space
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Not yet, not really," you confess in answer to Caleb's question.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's not like you <i>have</i> to pick a new identity," he says. "I mean, if you've got some kind of <i>ethical</i> problem with—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not that," you blurt out. The ethics of stealing someone else's body, name, and life, in fact, hadn't really occurred to you, not after some of the stuff you've already been doing. "It's just— Well, I'm trying to figure out where I want to go."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh?" Caleb asks. "So what's taking so long?"<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson wants us to get a bunch of new faces inside of some masks. If we're hanging out under same, uh, identities, then— Well, wouldn't it make more sense if we were in, like, different parts of the school? So we'd be able to get at a lot of different people?"<br/>
<br/>
He sucks in his cheek. "That makes sense, I guess," he says. Then, shrewdly: "But that's not really what you're thinking about, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess not," you admit. "To be honest, I kind of want to get a little distance. After the past week or so, the less I see of—well, of Patterson and Black, even if they're fakes—the better." <i>And less of Seth Javits,</i> you silently add.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I get it," Caleb assures you. He claps you on the shoulder. "Makes sense. But where do you want to—? I mean, you got any ideas?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really. Only general ideas. Like ... somewhere on the marching band?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stares at you, then guffaws. "Are you shitting me? The marching band?"<br/>
<br/>
"So, okay, it's not the sexiest, but it's far away from— Look, I'm just spitballing here!"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Shitballing</i> is more like it. So what other places are you <i>shitballing?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You flush. "The orchestra? The theater program? Oh!" You snap your fingers. "Keith says he's got another set of friends. His YouTube buddies. You have any idea who he's talking about?"<br/>
 "Sure. You don't?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stares at you, then laughs. "Fuck. He's talking about Montoya and Hollister. You know, we got them in English?"<br/>
<br/>
You grope for the names, and find them. Montoya is a chunky Hispanic kid with a fauxhawk, and Hollister is a funny-looking redhead with freckles. They're a couple of geeks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Caleb continues, "they've got a YouTube channel. A movie review thing. Keith's been helping them out with it. You know. He's told us all about it."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I wasn't paying attention."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb snorts. "Well, if you're looking for fuckers who don't overlap with Patterson and Black, you can hardly get farther off than them guys. But why would you want to turn yourself into one of them? You might as well stay as yourself."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to get to class anyway," Caleb says. He claps a strong hand on your shoulder and steers you toward the door. "Think about it. And think about doing something else, fer Chrissakes."<br/>
<br/>
But on the stairs, on the way down, he has another thought. "Hey, what about someone who works out at the Warehouse?" he suggests. It takes you a moment to figure out what he means, and even then you ask him to be more specific. The Warehouse is a party spot downtown—a literal warehouse, decrepit and abandoned, where raves are held every weekend. You've never been out, and you're not aware that anyone actually "works" there.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure they do," Caleb assures you. "There's the guys that deal out there. You know, weed, beer, whiskey, snacks. There's the musicians that play out there, and the security guys. If you told Patterson you were gonna take over for someone who was a regular, like, supplier out there, I bet he'd go for it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't go straight to Patterson with your idea, though, after you've had the day to think about it. You wait for Caleb to get out of after-school basketball practice, and position yourself in a spot in the student parking lot where he won't be able to miss you. He's got Cindy leaning against his hip when he emerges, looking very flushed and healthy, from the gym into the late afternoon sun. He only gives you a chin-chuck, though, before steering himself and his girlfriend over to his truck. <br/>
<br/>
It's several hours later, and you're at home doing schoolwork, when he texts: <i>Got sthing u want to talk abt?</i><br/>
<br/>
It's about time he got back to you—he must have been spending the whole evening with Cindy. You want to tell him that you want to steal the identity of someone in:</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122111211
author_id: seuzz
title: Marching to a Different Beat
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's probably just as well that Caleb took so long getting back to you. You took advantage of the empty afternoon between the end of basketball practice and suppertime by going up into the fuck room and rummaging through the mask collection. You needed ideas for where to infiltrate the Westside marching band, and you found them inside Jessica Garner's mask.<br/>
<br/>
Still, it took you a surprisingly long time, as you lounged on the crusty old gym mats, playing with your boobs, before you figured out what you needed to do and how you should go about doing it. You started by using Jessica's own instincts to tell you who in the marching band was hot and likely to get lots of pussy. Eventually, though, you realized that, if you were going to copy lots of girls into masks, you would be best off striking from inside the mask of a girl yourself—girls are more likely to hang out with each other, and to lower their guards around them.<br/>
<br/>
Even then, it took you awhile to endorse the idea—it is too easy to imagine Patterson and the others mocking you as "gay" or worse for wanting to adopt a girl as your identity. It was only when you remembered how Patterson promised you "two exclusive identities" that you settled on a plan. You'd pick a guy to be one of your "permanent" identities, and tell everyone else that the girl was who you'd use to steal faces for the gang. You might still get some teasing, but it would be better than if you just gave them the name of a girl when they asked where to find you.<br/>
<br/>
But it still left you with a choice of whether to start off with a male identity or a female identity. Starting with a male identity would spare you maximal teasing. On the other hand, you don't want to lock yourself into a life that, once you got inside it, might not be as good as it looked on the outside.<br/>
<br/>
When all was said and done, Jessica's instincts and memories told you that there were five best candidates:<br/>
<br/>
The first was Anne Starkey, a prim but pretty red-head with lots of friends throughout school. She is also the girlfriend of Cameron Huber, the school's quarterback, and a personal enemy of Gordon and Steve. They might give you a lot of shit about becoming Cameron's boyfriend, but they would probably also chortle maliciously at the idea of Anne being a double-agent secretly working on their side.<br/>
<br/>
The second choice is Susie Lekuawehe, a Hawaiian girl who has lots of friends both on the band and off it, and who with her scatterbrained cheerfulness could probably show up at anyone's house and talk her way in. <br/>
<br/>
For a third choice you entertained a dark horse: Becca Daly, who is a junior. Jessica doesn't really know her, but has the impression that she is well-connected down in the junior class while also still having friends in the senior class, meaning she might be able to cast a very wide net.<br/>
<br/>
For a fourth choice you tentatively set on Jack Li, who is on the color guard. Jack is Chinese-American, smart, good-looking, and with a relaxed and casual popularity that gives him lots of friends throughout the school. He is also gay, which wouldn't be good for your reputation, but would help you get close to girls.<br/>
<br/>
Susie has a twin brother—much bigger and uglier than she is—but after weighing and discarding Sam as a male identity, you tentatively settled on Jesse Hughes as the best of an admittedly short list of marching band members who might make a good impersonation. Most of the band members are kind of geeky, but Jesse is trim and handsome, with a cool, confident manner, and is a smart dresser besides. He's also a junior, which would put some distance between you and the other members of the club.<br/>
<br/>
After settling on these, you took Jessica's mask off and went home for dinner. At home, you let your own instincts then come to the fore, and later one, up in your bedroom, you came to a decision on where you should start.<br/>
<br/>
So when you call Caleb back at Seth's number, you're ready to tell him that you've settled on:<br/>
<br/>
<b>That's all for now.</b></span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122111212
author_id: seuzz
title: Orchestrating a New Plan
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's probably just as well that Caleb took so long getting back to you. You took advantage of the empty afternoon between the end of basketball practice and suppertime by going up into the fuck room and rummaging through the mask collection. You needed ideas for where to infiltrate the orchestra, and you found them in Eva Garner's mask.<br/>
<br/>
Still, it took you a surprisingly long time, as you lounged on the crusty old gym mats, playing with your boobs, before you figured out what you needed to do and how you should go about doing it. You started by using Eva's own instincts to tell you who in the orchestra was hot and likely to get lots of pussy. Eventually, though, you realized that, if you were going to copy lots of girls into masks, you would be best off striking from inside the mask of a girl yourself—girls are more likely to hang out with each other, and to lower their guards around them.<br/>
<br/>
Even then, it took you awhile to endorse the idea—it is too easy to imagine Patterson and the others mocking you as "gay" or worse for wanting to adopt a girl as your identity. It was only when you remembered how Patterson promised you "two exclusive identities" that you settled on a plan. You'd pick a guy to be one of your "permanent" identities, and tell everyone else that the girl was who you'd use to steal faces for the gang. You might still get some teasing, but it would be better than if you just gave them the name of a girl when they asked where to find you.<br/>
<br/>
But it still left you with a choice of whether to start off with a male identity or a female identity.<br/>
<br/>
Your first and easiest choices were for Audrey Briscoe and Danielle Davis, two girls with lots of friends in the tonier precincts of the school. Audrey is a toothy girl who was on the track team until last year, when she switched her focus to concentrate on music. (She sings in the Chorale in addition to playing in the orchestra.) She has lots of friends, not just of her own but those that she has started hanging out with since she started to date Mitchell Belz. Danielle, meanwhile, is a very pretty black girl from an upper-middle class family.<br/>
<br/>
You also gave lots of thought to Kennedy Palmer, who is a studious and serious girl down in the junior class. She seems exactly like the kind of officious busybody, like Kelsey Blankenship, who would have lots of friends to boss around. But Eva has the impression that she's pissed a lot of people off. A better choice might be Naomi Batson, another girl in the junior class who has a pushy personality, but who has a much plainer face and a fatter figure.<br/>
<br/>
If you wanted to start off with a male impersonation, though, there's only one real choice in the orchestra: Nathan Cruz, who is the first violinist. This gives him a lot of sway on the orchestra—which you could use to get at any of the girls—but he has another life as a member of the swim team, which would get you close to a lot of sexy girls. But Nathan is an asshole, and you're not sure he would have a lot of friends, or that it he would be a very happy home for yourself.<br/>
<br/>
After settling on these, you took Eva's mask off and went home for dinner. At home, you let your own instincts then come to the fore, and later one, up in your bedroom, you came to a decision on where you should start.<br/>
<br/>
So when you call Caleb back at Seth's number, you're ready to tell him that you've settled on:</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122111213
author_id: seuzz
title: The Play's the Thing
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's probably just as well that Caleb took so long getting back to you. You took advantage of the empty afternoon between the end of basketball practice and suppertime by going up into the fuck room and rummaging through the mask collection. You needed ideas for where to infiltrate the Warehouse, and you found them in Karl Hennepin's mask.<br/>
<br/>
Still, it took you a surprisingly long time, as you lounged on the crusty old gym mats—and had flashbacks to fucking Kelsey Blankenship from beneath—before you figured out what you needed to do and how you should go about doing it. You started by using Hennepin's own instincts to tell who in the theater program was hot and likely to get lots of pussy. Eventually, though, you realized that, if you were going to copy lots of girls into masks, you would be best off striking from inside the mask of a girl yourself—girls are more likely to hang out with each other, and to lower their guards around them.<br/>
<br/>
Even then, it took you awhile to endorse the idea—it is too easy to imagine Patterson and the others mocking you as "gay" or worse for wanting to adopt a girl as your identity. It was only when you remembered how Patterson promised you "two exclusive identities" that you settled on a plan. You'd pick a guy to be one of your "permanent" identities, and tell everyone else that the girl was who you'd use to steal faces for the gang. You might still get some teasing, but it would be better than if you just gave them the name of a girl when they asked where to find you.<br/>
<br/>
But it still left you with a choice of whether to start off with a male identity or a female identity. Starting with a male identity would spare you maximal teasing. On the other hand, you don't want to lock yourself into a life that, once you got inside it, might not be as good as it looked on the outside.<br/>
<br/>
The best choice by far, you thought at first, was Josie Holden, who isn't really a member of the drama department but is taking an acting class. Josie is a cute, athletic brunette who plays on the girls' varsity soccer squad. Between those two connections and whatever other friends she's got, hers is a face you could probably use to get lots of masks. The main downside—apart from the teasing you would get for giving yourself a pair of boobs—is that as a soccer player she might be too close for your taste to the guys you're trying to get some distance from.<br/>
<br/>
For other girls, you found yourself avoiding the more obvious choices, such as Elle Moore and Laura MacGregor, in favor of some more adventurous ones. Hennepin doesn't really know Avery Ayela or Ximena Calderon that well. But Avery is a giggly extrovert who is also taking gymnastics classes—and as a sophomore she would put lots of distance between you and the other guys while also giving you access to a whole lot of faces you couldn't otherwise reach. Ximena is a senior, a Hispanic girl with a thick, almost indecipherable accent, who is tight with all the other Hispanic students in the school. You're not sure how popular she is, but she gives the impression of <i>trying</i> to be popular, especially with the guys, because she is always dressed up (and made up) like she's on her way to a party.<br/>
<br/>
The last girl on your list is one that Hennepin knows well, a cute little geek-pixie named Emily Sparks. Like Josie, Emily isn't really in the drama program—she is simply taking an "Intro to Acting" class as a lark. Mostly she's a bohemian-type who loves to hang around with the artsy crowd, and she's real good at nosing her way into lots of situations. She also plays in the orchestra, which means that, as with Josie, you could have lots of places to look for faces from behind hers.<br/>
<br/>
As for guys, there are a lot to choose from. Unhappily, though, you know that the best choice is one that would get you lots of grief from your fellow club members. No, it's not Charles Hartlein, around who the entire drama department seems to revolve. Charles has lots of connections, but his snotty and arrogant manner means he is not nearly as popular he probably supposes himself to be. But your best choice is almost as bad: Christian Padilla, who one of Charles's friends, and who is just as gay as Charles is. But Christian is a lot friendlier, and from what Karl has seen, he has little trouble getting close to and private with girls. <br/>
<br/>
After settling on these, you took Hennepin's mask off and went home for dinner. At home, you let your own instincts then come to the fore, and later one, up in your bedroom, you came to a decision on where you should start.<br/>
<br/>
So when you call Caleb back at Seth's number, you're ready to tell him that you've settled on:</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122111214
author_id: seuzz
title: Deal Me In
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's probably just as well that Caleb took so long getting back to you. You took advantage of the empty afternoon between the end of basketball practice and suppertime by going up into the fuck room and rummaging through the mask collection. You needed ideas for where to infiltrate the Warehouse, and you found them in Karl Hennepin's mask.<br/>
<br/>
Still, it took you a surprisingly long time, as you lounged on the crusty old gym mats—and had flashbacks to fucking Kelsey Blankenship from beneath—before you figured out what you needed to do and how you should go about doing it. The Warehouse, after all, is a hang-out spot, not a school program or a social group. What you needed to figure out was who regularly hung out at the Warehouse, and which of them would be useful to you.<br/>
<br/>
You had to start, though, but cutting out a lot of eligible candidates. You want to make the Warehouse a nest for yourself, but you also want to put some distance between you and the other guys. This meant that some of the best choices—Erik Carstairs and other members of the football squad—were out, because they are guys who are likely to meet up with Patterson and his friends a lot. So your attention became focused not on the security squads—which are heavy with football players and the like—but on the guys who sell inside the Warehouse, or who help set up and maintain the entertainment, or who just hang out there lots. After a lot of thought, you reduced your choices down to a manageable set of five.<br/>
<br/>
Mitchell Belz was the first you tentatively settled on. He's one of the losers who hangs out at the portables with Hennepin. He's a tall guy, like Hennepin, with dark, punk-wild hair that he dyes an even darker shade of black, and he favors black leather jackets and black boots. He's been arrested a couple of times for public intoxication, and he sells beer in the Warehouse on Friday nights. But he has a goofy smile, and there's no real menace in him. Mostly, Hennepin just has the impression that he's stupid, horny, and careless about what kind of fun he has.<br/>
<br/>
Alex Massey and Antonio Sanchez are much more dangerous characters. They play on the school's varsity baseball team, which puts them one degree away from Jason Lynch, but the only time Hennepin has heard them talk about Lynch has been to mock him behind his back for his tiny penis, so there seems to be no friendship there. Alex is a little fireplug of tanned muscle, with long brunette hair that hangs down to the top of his shoulders. He wears camo pants and army boots down below, and wife-beaters and a silver necklace up above. He's the kind of guy you would be afraid of, the way you're afraid of the Molester and David Kirkham, but to the best of your knowledge Massey has never even looked at you. <br/>
<br/>
He deals vodka at the Warehouse, while his teammate, Sanchez, deals lager beer. Sanchez is even bigger than Alex, and also dresses in wife-beaters and boots, but he favors heavy Levis. He also wears his hair long, and sports a fuzzy patch of dark beard on the bottom of his chin. Alex at least will grin, even if there's a greasiness to his smile. Sanchez only glares.<br/>
<br/>
If you want to stay away from kids who are likely to get in trouble—and who probably have very troubled home lives, which is the vibe you get from Hennepin's impressions of Massey and Sanchez—Robert Vargas looks like a reasonable choice. He's Hispanic, and hangs out with lots of other Hispanic kids, and he's got a peppery personality. But he's also a band geek—a drummer—and even at the Warehouse he hangs out with other band drummers: Luis Castillo, Owen Hubble, and Luke Romero.<br/>
<br/>
The last choice you settle on is Dustin Miller. He's a junior, and he plays on the JV football squad. Hennepin doesn't know much about him, except that he's blonde, clean-cut, and always had girls at the Warehouse following him around. But he also has a do-not-fuck-with-me glower. Like Sanchez, he is also on the Warehouse security staff, and Hennepin has seen him help take down drunken brawlers quickly while dealing them a lot of pain.<br/>
<br/>
After settling on these, you took Hennepin's mask off and went home for dinner. At home, you let your own instincts then come to the fore, and later one, up in your bedroom, you came to a decision on where you should start.<br/>
<br/>
So when you call Caleb back at Seth's number, you're ready to tell him that you've settled on:<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122111215
author_id: seuzz
title: The Friend of My Friend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's probably just as well that Caleb took so long getting back to you. You took advantage of the empty afternoon between the end of basketball practice and suppertime by calling Keith and talking to him about his "YouTube buddies." He was initially shocked by your suggestion that you swap places with one of them, but he came around to it when you told you'd help him get Yumi if he helped you swap places with one of these guys.<br/>
<br/>
At first you assumed it would either be Carlos Montoya or Mike Hollister whose identity you would be assuming, and you asked Keith about them. He wasn't much help, though.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, the thing about Carlos," he told you, "is that his family owns a couple of storage places. Those self-storage units, you know, where you drive in and—? His dad owns one off in, I dunno, Scottsford or someplace like that, but his uncle owns the one out on Twentieth. Top-Shelf Storage. It's across from a Hardees, I think. Anyway, that's where Carlos has his studio.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, he's got a bunch of stuff out there. He's got two units that his uncle lets him use as long as they've got empty units. They're in this climate-controlled building, so they're always, like sixty-five degrees or something. I get cold out there, that's all I can tell you. But Carlos has got one unit where he keeps his workout stuff, his weights and shit, and then there's another unit that him and Mike use for a studio. Got the desk and a TV and all their camera equipment in it, and that's where they make those videos. You know?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't know, but you murmured back something that sounded positive.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so anyway, if you're gonna be Carlos you're gonna have that shit to look after. I think it's okay. Carlos ain't gettin' any pussy, but that's only 'cos he hasn't tried. He's dropped a lotta weight since last year, but he's tryin' to get ripped b'fore— But you know, you don't gotta worry about <i>that</i> if you're gonna be banging those clay monster things.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway, that's him. And there's Mike, but you know Mike, right? Fucking goofball is what he is. We call him 'Red' sometimes, on accounta he's got that Conan O'Brien thing going sometimes, and he gets spastic. I think I'd go for Carlos if you're gonna pick between them."<br/>
<br/>
But then he went on to describe two more guys who are part of this YouTube thing, but who stick to behind-the-camera stuff. The first is Philip Fairfax, whose name is familiar but who you didn't place until Keith told you he went to a national science-fair thing back in middle school, and then you remembered him as a red-headed brainiac with black-framed glasses. He sounds about as serious as a heart attack from the way Keith describes him, though Keith went out of his way to say that girls have been known to chase him; but he's apparently oblivious. Still, he sounds like a nice, quiet spot of the sort you'd like to curl up inside after the excitement of the last few weeks.<br/>
<br/>
The last of the YouTube quartet is Josiah Shank, who Keith bluntly informed you is "weird," a "triple-A nerd," and an "anime freak fetishist" who has the biggest collection of hentai outside Japan. He assured you that the only reason he's telling you about Josiah—who he calls "space alien freaky"—is because you'd have to hang out with him if you became one of the other three. And yet you found Josiah interesting despite his strangeness. Certainly, he would be the last place anyone would look for you if you wanted to make yourself anonymous.<br/>
<br/>
Before he hung up, though, Keith told you there was one other potential possibility: Phoebe Beauchamp. She's a soccer player but she's also taking some kind of audio-visual class with Carlos and his friends. They've been pestering her forever to make videos with them, which she's always refused. "Man, that's who <i>I'd</i> pick," Keith gushed, "if I— Uh— Never mind."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean if <i>you</i> were a senior member, and <i>you</i> got to pick a new identity."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude!" he groaned. "Don't! Please! Save her for—!"<br/>
<br/>
You don't tell him that you'd never pick Phoebe, because you wouldn't want all the shit that Patterson and Lynch and the others would throw at you for wanting to become a <i>girl.</i> And yet, after you hung up on Keith, you found yourself thinking that maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. A girl, like Phoebe, would be a good ambush site for making copies of other girls. And it wouldn't have to be a permanent thing. Just make a mask of Phoebe, replace her, steal faces off her teammates and her friends and other girls, and then, when Keith made the senior level, you could pass her along to him.<br/>
<br/>
You thought this all over at home, over a quiet (for once) dinner and afterward, so that when Caleb calls you back, you are prepared to tell him who you've chosen for your next (though maybe not permanent) identity:</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211122
author_id: seuzz
title: Schools of Thought
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Not yet, not really," you confess in answer to Caleb's question. "I mean, not specifically. All I know is—"<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath. It's going to be a big thing to tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"I want to change schools."<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows go up, and he crosses his meaty arms. "You what?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I want to change schools. Patterson and them have moved out to Eastman. And I was thinking—"<br/>
<br/>
"And you want to go over to Eastman, with <i>them?</i>" Caleb asks. His brow darkens.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'd—"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you <i>pissed</i> at me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stares at you. "Then why—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna put some space between me and, well, everything else." You twist on your feet. It all sounds so lame, now that you're trying to put it in words. "I got nothing against hanging out with you or Keith. I just— Well—"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks grim but not unhappy.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I think I can kind of get it," he says. "You want a place you can run by yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"No! It's not that! I don't even want it to be permanent! I'm just sick of this scene!" You glance around the loft. <i>Amazing,</i> you think. <i>Two weeks ago I'd have killed to be able to get up in here. Now I don't care if I don't see it again.</i><br/>
<br/>
Except you do care. You would want to see it again.<br/>
<br/>
"I want a vacation," you tell Caleb. "And if I move out to another school, I can get it. For a couple of weeks. A month. Besides," you add, "it'll really impress Patterson if I score a bunch of masks inside another school, the way he's trying to score them inside Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's expression turns a lot more thoughtful.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, now, <i>that</i> I can get. But what school?"<br/>
<br/>
You've given thought to that too.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122111222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Old College Try
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Keyserling," you tell Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you, as though he hasn't heard you. Then his eyes pop. "The college?" he exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa! Cool! Yeah!" His eyes dance. "Patterson'd really go for that, that'd really get you—!"<br/>
<br/>
He claps his hands together and raises them over his head, then dances in place. "And I know how to get you in!" he gasps. "Lucy!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lucy, man! Cindy's sister! Don't fucking tell me you forgot <i>Lucy!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You had, in fact, but she comes back to you now. She was the head cheerleader your sophomore year, and like most everyone at the school you had a major crush on her. She had the same pale, strawberries-and-cream complexion as Cindy, but she seemed somehow riper, more succulent, more squeezable. And <i>being</i> Lucy Vredenburg—<br/>
<br/>
"We could hang out more," Caleb chortles. "With me being Seth and you being her. Oh God, the sexual chemistry—"<br/>
<br/>
"Bleagh!"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. It'd be okay. We wouldn't actually— I mean, not unless you wanted to."<br/>
<br/>
"Bleagh!" <br/>
<br/>
"Alright, forget I said anything. But at least you could stop her being such a cunt to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Is there anyone else?" For as inviting as Lucy Vredenburg is, Caleb has done a pretty good job of knocking down the attraction.<br/>
<br/>
"Like who?" he asks with a frown. "Who else would you need to—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't we know anyone else who goes out to the college?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. Try thinking harder. Oh!" You snap your fingers. "What's their names, those dinks that Carson and James hung out with all last year and the year before?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keith Tilley and Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You show him both your middle fingers. "No. The tall doofus with the curly brown hair, and his friend— Justin! And, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! Connor and Justin."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! What about them? We could get close to them."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks skeptical. "If you want. But why would you wanna be a skinny goofball when you already are one?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, so, who do you think? Besides Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb sucks on his lower lip and stares at the floor. You also search for possible names. Friends or acquaintances who have older siblings who go to the college.<br/>
<br/>
"Mokichi," Caleb says. "Yumi's brother." You remember Mokichi as a senior two years older than you: a dark-haired kid with an intense stare, and as hard, slender, and sharp as a samurai blade.<br/>
<br/>
"But then I'd definitely have to help Keith score a copy of Yumi," you point out, but Caleb only shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"There's also Charlie Russo," he says. You shake your head. "Something wrong with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know him."<br/>
<br/>
"Beefy guy, used to be on the lacrosse team. His brother Danny's on the team now."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not picking someone I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb scratches the back of his head. "Then I guess that rules out Brownie Brown's brother."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean wrestling-guy Brownie Brown?" you ask, and Caleb nods. "Is his brother anything like Brownie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Even bigger."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I know who you're talking about!" If it is guy you're thinking of, he's a mountain of muscle. "Yeah, maybe him." Then: "What's wrong?" you ask Caleb, for his eyes have gotten very big. "Hey man," you say when a giant grin breaks across his face. "You got something?" you ask when he sinks to his knees and raises his hands toward the heavens.<br/>
<br/>
"It's perfect," he says. "It's gorgeous. It's a thing of beauty forever."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not Chelsea Cooper, is it?" you ask. "Because Patterson told me—"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb howls.<br/>
<br/>
"No," he gasps, "but you're so close it's scary. It's Chelsea's brother!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Chelsea Cooper has an older brother?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
"Think of it!" Caleb says in a choking voice. "You're living in the same house as Chelsea Cooper! You're her brother! Which means you get to drive her up the fucking wall!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Caleb talk about it some more, and when you're done you have settled on a choice for yourself:</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211221112221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Sister's Surprise
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>From the way Caleb describes her, Lucy Vredenburg sounds like a luscious choice: Not only as a body to inhabit, but as a personality. Someone who dominates.<br/>
<br/>
"She is the biggest cunt I've ever known," he chortles. "Seriously, she acts like she's a fucking movie star, way up here and everyone else is down in the shit. No one's good enough for her. Cindy's not. <i>I'm</i> not. I mean, Seth isn't."<br/>
<br/>
As Caleb is, at the moment, looking exactly like Seth Javits, maybe he does need to clarify. But it's not like he would have to tell you that <i>Caleb Johansson</i> can't possibly live up to Lucy's standards.<br/>
<br/>
She was a senior when you were a sophomore, and was the head cheerleader. Like her sister, Lucy was blonde and pale and voluptuous, and though you never got close enough to her to get a sniff, you always imagined her smelling faintly of strawberries and sugar. Like Cindy, too, she carried herself with an air of superiority. But if Cindy acts like a princess, Lucy seemed like an empress.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what she does all day, but she's never at home," Caleb continues. "Which is fine, 'cos she treats Cindy like shit too. I get the impression she's always off with boys and her girlfriends, at parties if she's not in class. I don't even know if she goes to classes. Wouldn't surprise me if she didn't. Oh, God!" He closes his eyes and his face flushes with some kind of imagined ecstasy. "I would love to fuck her for hours on end. Just to put her in her place—which is under me!—if nothing else."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, don't look for anything like that from me," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes pop open. "Yeah, but you just make sure you make two copies of her when we do it, un'erstand?" he says, and his eyes are cold and hard. "One for you to wear, and one for me to—"<br/>
<br/>
"So how are we going to do this?" you ask. "I mean, if you never see her."<br/>
<br/>
He sucks hard on his lower lip. "I'll have to think about it," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna let me get back to class in the meantime?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a look. Then he seizes you by the neck and forces you out of the loft and down the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb says he's in charge of getting ahold of Lucy for you, but that doesn't mean you have to sit around waiting. You take lunch on the grassy quad out front, so you can broach the subject of Cindy's sister with Jenny Ashton, who is one of Cindy's friends.<br/>
<br/>
Carson Ioeger, naturally, has to horn in. "God, I still have sexy dreams about Lucy almost every night," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you, still stuck in the tenth grade?" Jenny retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm still stuck in the ninth grade. That was the best one, wasn't it?" He nudges his friend James. "There were four fucking classes full of whack-off material back then. Literally every other person you passed in the hall—"<br/>
<br/>
"Ewwww!" Jenny cries.<br/>
<br/>
"There's still four classes of whack-off fantasies," Keith interrupts. He came along too, though he made a point (you noticed) of putting you between himself and "robot Johansson," as he has taken to calling Caleb's golem replacement. "In summa my classes there's—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're a fucking perv and a pedophile, you know that?" Carson retorts. "God, what kind of a sicko jerks off to freshmen girls?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith turns beet-red. "So what were <i>you</i> jerking off to back in <i>your</i> freshmen year?" he yells at Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"Freshman girls. And sophomore girls. And junior girls and senior—"<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the—?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing sick about jerking off to girls your own age," James informs Keith. He's looking very smug as he says it. "But three years younger?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck that," Carson says. "Two years younger—"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean 'Don't fuck that'," James corrects him. "That's how come your freshman year is the best," he continues, turning back to Keith. "You got the girls in your class to jerk off to, plus all the ones in the classes up above, all just begging to be unpeeled in your fantasies after—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Will, why were you asking about Lucy?"</i> Jenny hollers.<br/>
<br/>
"Because he's not gay," Carson answers for you with a snort. Then: "Are you, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was just wondering if you ever see her or hang out with her. When you're hanging out with Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
Carson sits up very sharply, and leans in on Jenny, who does a double take at him. "Well?" Carson demands when she says nothing. "Answer the man!"<br/>
<br/>
"I saw her once or twice over summer," Jenny says. "Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because he's not gay," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
"I was just wondering, like, if I wanted to talk to her, whether you could set something up."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Carson exclaims. He gets up on his knees. "Could you?" he asks Jenny.<br/>
<br/>
She glares at him while answering you. "What do you want to talk to her about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like, Keyserling," you improvise. "The classes she's taking, the—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Christ," James snorts. "That's not why you want to—"<br/>
<br/>
Carson punches him in the shoulder. "All of us want to talk to Lucy about the college," he tells Jenny. He's puffing hard. "You need to set up a group meeting with her for us. You need to—"<br/>
<br/>
"No! I'm not gonna—!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"We're talking about our academic futures here!"</i> Carson yells at her.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna talk about the college, go bother your buddies Connor and Justin!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"We're not gay, Ashton!"</i> Carson hollers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So that all wound up being a waste. Fortunately, it doesn't matter. Caleb comes through. He finds you immediately after lunch and drags you back up into the gym loft, where he smashes a blank mask into your face. You're alone when you wake up, to find a piece of paper pinned to your chest: <i>Taking your shit to Patt'n after school to get made.</i><br/>
<br/>
"I was in a hurry," he tells you later that evening, when you meet up with him at Potsdam Park, near the river. "I didn't have time to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, you were just having fun with Javits's muscles."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, true," he replies with a cocky grin. "But I got it for you!" He pulls a blue mask from out of his bag.<br/>
<br/>
It gives you the creeps to hold it, even though it's not the first time you've held a mask that copies yourself. <i>But this is going to be another me,</i> you think. <i>A replacement. It's going to take over for me while I take over for—</i> "What did Patterson say about the plan?" you ask Caleb as you stare down at the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't. I told him you were being a dildo, and that I wanted to get the thing made so maybe you'd get off your ass and get to work."<br/>
<br/>
You look up sharply. "Why'd you tell him that?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "It made me sound like a bad ass. Also, I wanted it to be a surprise for him. I figure we might be able to prank him somehow if you show up as Lucy without him knowing it's you."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sucking him off."<br/>
<br/>
"You say that now, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"How are we getting Lucy?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm texting her now," he says as he takes out his cell phone. "Gonna tell her I'm out here with Cindy and we had a break down and could she come out here to get us."<br/>
<br/>
"What is she, Triple-A?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, Prescott. I know what I'm doing."<br/>
<br/>
Well, you have to take his word for it, though maybe he's got doubts of his own, for of his own volition he volunteers that Lucy would never miss out on a chance to come out and gloat viciously at Seth in front of Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe he's right, because he blanches when he sees her reply, and his face passes through a couple of other colors as he back-and-forths with her. Finally, after ten minutes: "Okay, she's on her way."<br/>
<br/>
But is she? He has to text her twice more to confirm she's coming, and it's still an hour before an SUV pulls up. Caleb has a blank mask in his hand. "Let me handle this," he growls at you. "This is gonna feel so good."<br/>
<br/>
Lucy is as beautiful as you remember, even though there's an ugly sneer on her face as she jumps from the SUV. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Seth," she hisses. "You're such a cock up—"<br/>
<br/>
"And you're an ugly cunt," he retorts with a heat that surprises you. In two steps he's on top of her, throwing the mask onto her face. You've just time to see her look of surprise before he covers it with the mask. She falls back against the side of her SUV, and slides down it to the grass.<br/>
<br/>
But the mask, instead of vanishing into her, stays stuck to her face as she lolls like a broken doll on the ground. You stare at it numbly, willing it to sink into her and copy her, but it only remains stuck there.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" Caleb says. He kneels and pulls the mask off her. Lucy's eyes swim in and out of focus, but she is clearly still conscious. Caleb jams the mask back onto her, but again it only rests on her face, shining in the fading evening light.<br/>
<br/>
You and he exchange a horrified glance. "The thing's busted," he groans.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know where you get the inspiration, but with trembling fingers you peel the mask off her, then grab Lucy's forehead and pull while muttering some magic words. You almost shout aloud when her face comes away in your hand, revealing a lumpy and misshapen golem.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" you gasp. "Patterson already got her!"</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211122213
author_id: seuzz
title: Life Inside Lucy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Holy shit," you exclaim as you stare down at the gray-skinned lump that's dressed in Cindy Vredenburg's clothes. "Did you know Patterson did this?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Caleb replies. "You didn't either?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck no! How would I—? When did he—! Fuck, where's the real Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb doesn't answer, but kneels to examine the golem and the clothes it's wearing. "I wonder how many of these things he's got out there," he says. "And how he—"<br/>
<br/>
He breaks off with a start. His mouth drops open, and his horsey eyes bulge.<br/>
<br/>
"Cindy!" he hisses at you in a horrified whisper. "He must'a got to Lucy through Cindy! And that means—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, it means your girlfriend's a fake too!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb punches you in the shoulder. And since he's got Seth Javits's fist and brawny arm, it hurts.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are we gonna do about this?" he says, more to himself than to you. His forehead is glowing like a hot coal, even though his cheeks have faded to chalk.<br/>
<br/>
"First thing you should do is check your girlfriend," you reply. "Maybe that's where Lucy is. Maybe you've already been fucking Lucy and don't—"<br/>
<br/>
He punches you a second time, even harder than the first. "I'm not telling you to shut the fuck up again, Prescott!" he exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
You look down at the mask that you pulled off the golem. PENELOPE LUCILE VREDENBURG, it says in burning letters. <i>No wonder she goes by her middle name,</i> you find yourself thinking.<br/>
<br/>
But then you get another thought. "One of us should put this on," you mutter before you can change your mind.<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Caleb squints at you, then looks down at the mask. "What are you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"We can find out what Patterson's up to." You swallow. "See what all he's been up to with her."<br/>
<br/>
"We can guess what he's got up to with her!"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate. Then— "I'm going to snoop anyway." You look around. "I'll be in her car. You keep watch." <br/>
<br/>
You scamper over to Lucy's SUV and hop into the driver's seat. You're all a-tremble, and you dodge Caleb's gaze as he stalks over to watch you through the windshield. <br/>
<br/>
The interior of the mask isn't treated with any of that goop like Caleb got Patterson to put inside your mask, so there shouldn't be any danger in wearing it. You'll get her memories, both those before and after she got replaced with a golem. And you'll also—<br/>
<br/>
Well, that's part of the attraction, and also part of what gives you the shakes. You're going to have Lucy Vredenburg's boobs, and butt, and legs, and everything else that makes her so luscious to contemplate. Even if it's just for a little while— Just for this afternoon— Just while you snoop to find out what her history with Patterson is.<br/>
<br/>
You run a nervous tongue over your lower lip, toss a quick squint at Caleb, and lift the mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
A wallowing darkness overwhelms you, and you sink beneath it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Ah, Ms. Vredenburg," the professor says as you peep into his office. "You are here about the reading?"<br/>
<br/>
You fight down your gag reflex. Professor Blackwell, who teaches your anthropology class, is one of the most disgusting human beings you've ever seen. He's middle-aged bald man with a scraggly beard-and-goatee combination and a pasty bald head over which trails a few strands of lank hair, like wet grass over a snow bank. He has an apple-shaped belly that bulges beneath the tight turtleneck sweaters he wears beneath his jacket. If there was any other way, you'd skip this meeting. But you don't know or talk to anyone else in the class, so there's no one else to ask when—<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, um, I heard you gave us a handout?"<br/>
<br/>
"The day you weren't in class."<br/>
<br/>
Of course he noticed when you skipped his dumb class on the history of magic. <i>Creep.</i> "Sorry, I couldn't make it," you simper.<br/>
<br/>
He beams at you—a look that makes you want to vomit.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, of course I have a copy here," he says, and pulls out a desk drawer. "You got the tail end of the lecture this morning, but as for the start— Oh, please, sit." He gestures at a chair in the corner. "I can give you the gist of the first lecture in five minutes. If you'll take out your notes," he adds when you hesitate.<br/>
<br/>
You'd love to tell him that you are late to another appointment, but it would be awkward, so you sink onto the edge of the chair with your bag on your knees. There must have been a draught, for as you're rooting inside it for pencil and notebook, the professor's office door slams shut.<br/>
<br/>
"Now, the great difference between Babylonian magic and Egyptian magic," the professor starts, "lies in the difference between—"<br/>
<br/>
There's a word he says here, but you can't catch it, and as you're struggling to remember and decipher it you lose track of the rest of the sentence. When you do go back to try focusing on what he's saying, all the words seem to be out of order: "—convinced return misfortunes attempted curse by people that by upon suspected attempted—"<br/>
<br/>
And it is very hard to concentrate on his words given the way he's waving that silver pen around, and you hardly feel your own body when at a gesture from him you rise to your feet and accompany him out of the office and down the hallway and out of the building and into his car ...<br/>
<br/>
And all the way back to his house he is talking in a very low and comforting voice—a voice you could willingly listen to forever ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Quite nice," you murmur to yourself as you scope yourself out in the full-length mirror. The short, pleated skirt is very old-fashioned, but it complements the curve of your muscled legs quite nicely. The tight sweater, too, bulges nicely with your boobs. A warm flush fills your core as you toss your platinum-blonde hair back and lift an imperious chin to your reflection. "Aubrey, I must say I quite approve."<br/>
<br/>
On long, confident strides you exit the bedroom and go downstairs to the library. You pull at the small, stuffed dog (with three heads) in an alcove, and one of the shelves opens with a click. The room beyond is dim despite the tall, narrow window. There is just enough room inside for the iron spiral staircase that plunges into the gloom below.<br/>
<br/>
A disheveled girl with a streaked and dirty face glares up at you. She's naked.<br/>
<br/>
Her name is Lucy Vredenburg. As is yours.<br/>
<br/>
There's a tray of food on the dingy cot in the corner, but it's only half-eaten. You cluck at it and the girl.<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing wrong with your dinner, darling," you gloat at her. "I fixed two portions, one for you and one for me, and <i>I</i> thought it was first-rate. And you need to keep your strength up. Who knows? I might let you out one of these days!" You dimple at her, then back out and close the secret door on her again.<br/>
<br/>
"Fat chance of that, though," you mutter to yourself as you saunter out into the foyer, where the fat professor is waiting. "Get the new mask polished up for me," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Have you thought of a use for it?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. But though I was never a Boy Scout, I always have appreciated their motto." Out on the porch, you shake yourself to get the clothes settled more nicely around your supple limbs, then swing carelessly toward the SUV and the college party you will be attending. You can hardly keep from drooling in anticipation.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"So do you want me to bring my sister out here or not?" you ask the professor. You can feel the curve of disgust upon your lip.<br/>
<br/>
He scowls blackly at you. "I would ask you to amend your tone, young lady, only—" He catches himself, and goes back to glaring at the pile of books in front of him. "Help me find it."<br/>
<br/>
"Find what?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think? The <i>Libra!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Red book with a gold pentagram on its spine?" you ask with a contemptuous lilt, and glance around the library. "Do you remember the last shelf you saw it on?"<br/>
<br/>
"If I did," he roars, "I wouldn't be—!" He catches himself again, in a voice of choking fury orders you to search the library, case by case, shelf by shelf, book by book.<br/>
<br/>
It's nowhere to be found.<br/>
<br/>
Which doesn't bother you until after the professor has summoned you upstairs and pulled at your face. When next you wake, you are livid at the loss, but spend the frustration at a college party where you let three different frat brothers fuck you in succession.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
You have a headache when you wake, and you are twisted up inside your clothes. You can't stop a grimace as you look down at the boyish cargo shorts and t-shirt you are wrapped up in. A sheet of hair falls into your face.<br/>
<br/>
The passenger-side door opens and Seth Javits slides in. You cringe. <i>Slimy, fuck-faced creep,</i> you think. Then: <i>Oh, it's just Caleb. Loser.</i> You clench your teeth together, trying to center and recover your sense of self.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," Seth says, "what are we gonna do until, you know—" He mimes shooting himself in the temple. <br/>
<br/>
"Go fuck yourself," you growl back before you can stop yourself. "Sorry," you pant. "That was Lucy. Oh, but—" You cover your face with your hands. "We are in a lot of trouble,' you moan.<br/>
<br/>
"With Patterson?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. And it's not Gordon or Jason or Keith either. They don't know anything about this! About Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a professor up at the university." You gag as the face and figure of Professor Blackwell come swimming back to you. "I think— I think he's the guy who used to own the book, before I found it. <i>He's</i> the one who got to Lucy, replaced her with— And I think— Oh my God, I think he's a warlock or a black magician!"</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211123
author_id: seuzz
title: Young Guns
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Not yet, not really," you confess in answer to Caleb's question. "I mean, not specifically. I am thinking about changing grades, though."<br/>
<br/>
He reacts as though slapped. "You what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm thinking about changing grades. Patterson wants us to get a bunch of new faces. But we're stuck up here in the senior class. We can't really get any masks of people down in—"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa!" Caleb raises his hands. "Are you serious? You know what they want these masks for, don't you?" He points to the golem in the corner of the loft.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you. "And you're serious? Sophomores and ... freshmen?"<br/>
<br/>
You blush.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know about freshmen," you concede. "But sophomores ... You and me were talking about, you know, back when <i>we</i> were sophomores." You were talking about it back when you were freshmen, too. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb blanches. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, look at it this way," you holler back at him, for you are suddenly embarrassed by your own suggestion. "Would <i>you</i> have done it with, like, Chelsea? Back when—" You jab a finger into the fake face he's wearing. "Would <i>Seth</i> have done it with <i>Cindy</i> when they were back in the tenth grade?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb grimaces, but doesn't deny it.<br/>
<br/>
"So, like, what would be wrong with doing it, you know, with a golem—a golem in a mask—if you were in a mask too? In a mask of someone in the same grade as ... her. I mean, if <i>they'd</i> do it, and it was okay, then if <i>you</i> did it while being them, wouldn't it—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!" Caleb puts his hands over his ears. "I don't want to hear this! I don't even want to <i>think</i> about this without clearing it with Patterson first. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
You hang your head.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, fine," you say. "But don't use my name when you talk to him."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, and who the fuck's name am I—?" Caleb catches himself. "Yeah, okay, I can tell him it was Tilley's idea—"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, you can tell him it was my idea! Except, frame it as a question. Ask him if these masks, if he wants them only of seniors, or does he want them also from, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright!" Caleb takes out his cell phone. "Jesus. But you know he's going to know what you're <i>really</i> asking."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not asking that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Then how do you know what he's gonna <i>think</i> you're really asking?" Caleb retorts. <br/>
<br/>
He gives you a moment to change his mind, then with a grimace starts tapping at his phone. "You can fuck off now," he growls at you. "I'll come find you when I get an answer."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Less than an hour later, you are once again hustled in a headlock to the gym. At least now it's third period, and a class (Career Planning) that you'd be likely to skip anyhow.<br/>
<br/>
Instead of the loft, though, Caleb hauls you to the top of the bleachers that overlook one of the basketball courts. Boys in shorts and tank tops come sauntering out of the changing room in ones and twos until there's more than a dozen standing around. Shortly after the bell rings, Coach Brooks—a burly, middle-aged man with a bald, egg-shaped head and eyebrows like caterpillars, comes out with a couple of basketballs. He drops these in the middle floor after yelling at the boys to get them running around the perimeter of the court.<br/>
<br/>
"That's the JV basketball team," Caleb tells you. "Patterson said he likes your idea, and he said to use one of these guys to get you down into the junior or sophomore class."<br/>
<br/>
You don't ask him if this means that the freshman class is off limits.<br/>
<br/>
"He's got a couple of suggestions, too. The kid in the green shirt down there?" It's a Hispanic kid with a narrow, impudent face under a short pillar of dark hair. "Diego Rojas. He's gonna be captain of the squad next year, if Gordon and Steve have their way. He's a real shit, just like them. Bangs a different girl every weekend, kicks ass just for fun. The other main one he suggests is Roman Robey."<br/>
<br/>
"Which one's he?"<br/>
<br/>
"White jersey, just coming around the corner."<br/>
<br/>
This one is quite a bit taller than Rojas, with must stronger arms and shoulders and legs. He's got dark hair and brows, and his face lights up when he turns to grin at a brown-haired who is jogging next to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck Rojas, it's Robey's who's gonna be team captain next year," Caleb tells you. "Black and Patterson had to work hard to keep him from making the varsity squad this year. They can't stand him. He's real popular. Girls love him, you can probably tell. Patterson says to make sure you fuck him up good if you take over for him. Or you could be McInery. That's the kid jogging with him. They're best friends, or something. That would be another way of fucking Robey up."<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure you're inclined to fuck up the lives of anyone, not if you're going to be impersonating them, and not if they are as popular and good-looking as the last two appear to be.<br/>
<br/>
"Are all these guys juniors?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Rojas and Robey and McInery are," Caleb says. "If you want a sophomore, you should look at Randolph. James Randolph," he clarifies. "The blonde kid three runners back of Robey."<br/>
<br/>
The runner in question is shorter than the others, and he's got a much leaner, trimmer build. But he's got hair like spun gold that's swept up into a tight pompadour. "What's the story on him?" you ask Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Another friend of Robey's, but down in the sophomore class. The little bit of scuttlebutt I've heard is that he's popular with the girls too. That's what you should be looking for, you know, if you're gonna get the masks that Patterson wants you to get."<br/>
<br/>
"Any other sophomores?"<br/>
<br/>
"One more. The one that should be at the top of your list, in fact, if you're actually interested in getting masks and not just sucking up to Patterson by fucking up some guys he doesn't like." Caleb cranes his neck. "That one, just passing under the basket."<br/>
<br/>
He's another lean kid, on the small side, at least compared to the juniors. His brown hair is cut short and clings to the top of his head like moss. "What's so special about him?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"He's not much of a basketball player," Caleb tells you. "But he plays in a garage band. Los Scorchos, or something like that. Crappy music, but all the ninth- and tenth-grade girls are in love with him. His name's Liam Schoonover. What a name, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You enter the names into your cell phone on a notepad app, then watch the class practicing for awhile. But when you catch the coach giving you and Caleb a look, you nudge him and suggest leaving.<br/>
<br/>
"We can get a copy of any of those guys this afternoon," he tells you after you've left the gym.<br/>
<br/>
"I have to make a copy of myself, and get some of that stuff into it," you tell him. "I'll go see Patterson this afternoon to get that done."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's five o'clock before you make it out to the house where Patterson is staying. It's Joe Durras who answers the door, and hauls you inside by your neck.<br/>
<br/>
"I hear you're looking to score us some prime jail bait," he tells you with a leer. "You are quickly turning into my favorite person ever, Prescott. Who are you gonna use to make the harvest?"</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211124
author_id: seuzz
title: Please, Teacher!
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I was thinking about becoming a teacher," you tell Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
The eyes in Seth Javits's horsey face bug out, and his mouth falls open. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just hear me out before—"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you <i>insane?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Patterson wants us to score some more masks for him, right?" you retort. "Where's a better spot to do it from than as a teacher?"<br/>
<br/>
If anything, Caleb astonishment grows.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna turn yourself into— What? Mr. Walberg? Just so's you can help—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't thinking about Mr. Walberg! Eeish! I was thinking about—!"<br/>
<br/>
You have to stop and catch your breath.<br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking about that new English teacher, Ms. Cho," you say. Caleb's expression, though still frozen with amazement, turns slightly more thoughtful. "Or, what about Mr. Hagerman? They're, like, young. Uh, not bad looking. And if Patterson—and us—if we want to get masks of, like, sophomores or juniors, then—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on, hang on," Caleb says. His gaze is distant. "You'd use a teacher to get masks—"<br/>
<br/>
"They'd have, like seven classes to pick from."<br/>
<br/>
"But you'd be using, like, Mr. Hagerman!"<br/>
<br/>
"Or Ms. Cho."<br/>
<br/>
You keep returning to those names, because those are the only two teachers you can easily imagine would be worth becoming. Both are English teachers, and both are in their late twenties or early thirties. Ms. Cho is an attractive Korean-American, with a strong "anime teacher" vibe going. She wears red-framed glasses and her hair is tinted an auburn color. Her skin is very clear, and she wears just enough makeup to augment her lips and eyes. You bet she would look adorable, and very sexy, in skimpy lace underwear. As for Mr. Hagerman, he's a rugged-looking young man with a strong, handsome face and wavy blonde hair. You had him for English last year, and it made you really mad to hear all the girls going on about how <i>hot and wet</i> they got when he looked at them.<br/>
<br/>
"Coach Schell," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
He gestures you to follow him. "You know," he says as you trudge down the stairs, "if you're really into this idea of using a teacher, you could always swap yourself in for Sagansky."<br/>
<br/>
You almost trip over your own feet. Mr. Saganksy is the school principle. He's somewhere in his early fifties, at least. He keeps himself pretty fit, though, and he's reasonably good-looking. But do you really want to throw yourself into middle-age, even if—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hmm.</i> It does give you a little pause, though. <i>I could be running this dump,</i> you think. <i>If I wanted to, I could come down on the Molester ... and Kirkham ... and the other assholes ... even on Black and Patterson and Lynch  ... like a fucking dump truck.</i><br/>
<br/>
Caleb leads you across the the gym floor, then up another set of stairs to the mezzanine that separates the two basketball courts. It's here that the school keeps its weight-lifting machines, and some of them are already in use. But no one hassles Seth Javits as he leans over the railing to look out onto one of the courts, and because you're with him no one hassles you either.<br/>
<br/>
Students of both sexes, in workout clothes, are drifting onto the floor, but it's one figure in particular that Caleb points out to you: a young blonde woman, who looks impossibly fit in her Lycra shorts and t-shirt. <i>My God,</i> you think as you fight to keep yourself from drooling. <i>If I'd had her the year I took P. E., I'd have taken it about five hundred times more seriously, just to try impressing her.</i> "Is that—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Coach Schell. She teaches volleyball. Oh yeah." Caleb grips the railing that runs around the mezzanine, and arches his back as he goes up on tiptoes. "In three, four years, that's what Chelsea Cooper's gonna look like."<br/>
<br/>
Long minutes pass. The bell rings. The coach calls her class to order and sets them running around the gym. Eventually Caleb slaps you in the arm and gestures you back toward the stairs. Reluctantly, you tear your eyes off Coach Schell.<br/>
<br/>
But Caleb has one more suggestion for you as he leads you out of the gym. "Ms. Willet,"  he says.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to place the name. She's an art teacher with a funky bohemian vibe. You make a point, later in the day, of swinging past her room to confirm that she's as young and pretty as you remember her being. And she is.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend the entire day in a daze as you weigh the possibilities. But when five o'clock rolls around, and you drive back out to the house where Patterson is now living, you have a name to give him if he asks whose identity you are thinking of assuming:</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211125
author_id: seuzz
title: With Friends Like These
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I was thinking about Carson," you tell Caleb. "You know. Ioeger."<br/>
<br/>
"What about him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well ... Swapping places with him. Becoming him."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's mouth falls open. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Anything wrong with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, plenty," he says, sounding flustered. "But I mean, even aside from— <i>Carson?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Or James. Maybe Paul. One of those guys, you know." <i>Or Jenny,</i> you add to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
The eyes in Seth Javits's horsey face bug out. "Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, man," you sigh. "Maybe to piss you off? Piss Patterson off?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb blinks hard a couple of times, then shakes his head to clear it. "Are you just fucking with me now?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm thinking— Well, Carson and them are, like, Patterson's enemies. Of him and Gordon and, uh, Seth."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." Caleb makes a face. "Tell me about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, wouldn't it be kind of, um— Well, if one of <i>them</i>, if Carson, say, was secretly on the team—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, no," Caleb moans. "You're not thinking of fucking Carson over just to get in good with Patterson, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"Because that would be—"<br/>
<br/>
He cuts himself off with a frown, though, before finishing the thought. You wait for him to say something as his distant stare grows more and more intense.<br/>
<br/>
But when he speaks again, it's only to say, "Lemme think about it."<br/>
<br/>
"What's there to think about?" you demand. "Isn't it my choice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but—"<br/>
<br/>
He catches himself again, then shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"You've got to get to class, man," he says, and seizes you by the shoulder. "And give it some more thought. I'm serious. Patterson and them are over at Eastman now. Not much point in—"<br/>
<br/>
But again he cuts himself off, and turns thoughtful.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To "give it some more thought," you decide to have lunch with Carson and his friends. Keith is eager to follow along, but he's less than keen when golem-Caleb also tags along. (And, truth to tell, you're not that keen to have him along either.)<br/>
<br/>
Carson and James seem happy to see you for once—usually they give the impression that they are only indulging your company. You're chagrined when you discover they have an ulterior purpose in welcoming you onto the quad in front of the school, where they are spread out over the grass.<br/>
<br/>
"So I heard you had a date with Javits this morning," Carson says. He fixes you with a bright eye. "What are you getting chummy with him for?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't trying bluffing us," James says. "He was using you in the hallways like a snowplow."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. It's on account of I had a run-in with him before school," you say. It doesn't please you that you were seen, but it seems best to be as honest as you can with them.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you trying to get between us and him?" Carson asks. He flops onto his side and tears a bite out of his sandwich. "You know him and us got something special going."<br/>
<br/>
"And one of these days," says Jenny Ashton, who has been sitting quietly and reading her cell phone, "Cindy's going to get in the middle of it too. She's gonna kick your asses herself if you don't start leaving her boyfriend alone."<br/>
<br/>
"That'll be awesome," James chortles. "Javits hiding behind his girlfriend's skirts."<br/>
<br/>
"Behind her oh-so-short-short skirts," Carson adds in a dreamy voice. "Ashton," he says in louder honk when she raises her face long enough to give him a murderous glare, "you need to talk her into wearing that pink miniskirt to school again. Last time she wore that to school, I had a five-hour boner. Ow!" he cries as she smacks him in the head.<br/>
<br/>
"Consult a physician if symptoms persist," Jenny growls as she turns her attention back to her phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that Yumi?" Paul Davis asks Jenny. Of the kids you're sitting with, he's the quietest, and sometimes you're not sure he's really friends with them at all.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Jenny says. Then she adds, "No, she's not coming out" when Paul opens his mouth to ask another question. He shuts it, and sags. He comes alive again, though, when Jenny says, "I'm meeting her after school, you can come along with us."<br/>
<br/>
"Can I come too?" Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" James demands of him.<br/>
<br/>
"Because how come not?"<br/>
<br/>
"But you and Javits," Carson says, speaking over the tedious argument that now breaks out between Tilley and Lamont, "what did you have a run-in with him about?"<br/>
<br/>
"He caught me in the gym before class."<br/>
<br/>
"What were you doing in the gym before class?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't answer him right away. Keith is asking where Jenny and Yumi are going, and James is telling him that it's none of his business as he hasn't been invited along. Jenny shuts them both up by loudly announcing that none of them have any business going along with her and Yumi, but anyone is welcome to show up if they want.<br/>
<br/>
So Carson has to ask you a second time what were you doing in the gym. "I was sneaking around the fuck room," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
The reaction—from everyone—is the last thing that you were expecting. Every head—Jenny's, Carson's, James's, Paul's, Keith's, and even golem-Caleb's—swings in your direction. "The fuck?" James demands.<br/>
<br/>
"I was just fucking around," you stammer, and you feel yourself redden. "You know. Testing out the door knob. Casing the joint."<br/>
<br/>
"Before class?" James's jaw drops open. "With the whole basketball team down on the court?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will, do you have a death wish?" Jenny asks. "Seriously. Do you need counseling?"<br/>
<br/>
But your retort is interrupted by Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"Up," he tells you as he leaps to his feet. "Get up, Prescott," he barks as he nudges and kicks at you. "I don't have—"<br/>
<br/>
You bat at him and protest, but he won't take <i>No</i> for an answer, and when James joins him at trying to pull you up, you give up and let them hustle you, pinned between them, toward the music annex.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you fucking out of your mind?" Carson asks when they've got you to themselves, pressed into a corner.<br/>
<br/>
"It does sound like attempted suicide," James concurs.<br/>
<br/>
"What's the matter with you?" you demand. "You mad I'm horning in on your business? You guys are always—"<br/>
<br/>
"We know what we're doing, Prescott," Carson barks. "You're gonna wind up finding out what Gordon's sneakers taste like."<br/>
<br/>
"He's gonna put a foot so far up your ass," James says, "you'll be able to taste it on the back of your tongue."<br/>
<br/>
These warnings still carry enough of the old weight that they give you a shiver, even though you know they are out of date for you.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you are stung deeply enough that you can't let them pass. "Just because <i>you</i> guys are too chicken-shit to—"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not chicken-shit," Carson says, "we're smart."<br/>
<br/>
"And we don't go barging around the door to the loft when we want to know what—"<br/>
<br/>
Carson punches James in the arm, and his face is pale with anger. A surprised silence settles over your trio. Then James bites his lip and hangs his head.<br/>
<br/>
"The point is, Prescott," Carson says, "that you're a nice little kid, and no one wants to see you hurt. No one that has your best interests at heart, I mean. Black and Javits, though—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you guys!"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you suddenly so interested in them for?" James demands. "Is there something going on with them that you've suddenly got wind of?"<br/>
<br/>
Carson's eyes go wide, and his grip on your shoulder hardens until you wince.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know nothing," you snarl as you writhe out of Carson's grasp. "I was just—"<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. We got our own ways of learning stuff," Carson says, "but you'd save James and me a lot of bother and aggravation if you told us. You'd also save yourself an ass-kicking after we found out what you were holding out on us."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's another five minutes before you're able to escape them without spilling anything. But they are definitely on the alert, you can tell.<br/>
<br/>
You're more worried, though, by their hints that they have special ways of "finding out" what Patterson and his friends are up to, and you are now determined to infiltrate their little gang. The best way, you figure, is by adopting the identity of:</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Clean Up Crew
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Join the navy, see the world," you say, trying to turn your decision into a joke. The fact is you just want to stay close to Patterson. If you're to live with a snake, you want to keep it under your eye at all times.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna make the change over now?" he asks without smiling or even looking up from his work. "We got Jessica already," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
That's true. You nervously brush the long hair away from your ears. "You mean as a permanent thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't have to be, but it's easiest. We'll be making a lot more copies over at Eastman, and you'll have your choice." Now he does look up at you. "But she's easy on the eyes, and I bet she feels <i>hot.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You flush. Yes, she's tight and firm and muscular and packed. You cross your arms, and start a little at the feeling of boobs resting against your forearms. You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson blows into the mask, drying the sealant, then reaches over and pulls the Patterson mask off of Frank. Before the other can slump out of his seat, Patterson puts the new mask onto him. Frank opens his eyes and shoots a hard, fast look at Patterson, who raises a warning finger. "You have to do what I say, Durras," he says in a firm voice. "Same as your brother. You know you have to, and you know why." He grins. "Don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Frank says, and he turns very black in the face as his jaw clenches and unclenches.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. I'll be back in a bit. You and Jessica can talk." He slaps Joe on the chest, and the two rise and disappear down a short hallway.<br/>
<br/>
You turn back to find Frank glaring at you hard. "He got you too?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you're confused, until you realize he's asking if you're also a golem. "In a manner of speaking," you say, dropping your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
He's silent for a moment, then grunts. "Oh, it's like that, is it? There's <i>two</i> of you. Gonna be hard, sharing the <i>Libra.</i> He's the one in charge, isn't he?"<br/>
<br/>
You look up, startled. "How do you know about the ... the <i>Libra?</i>" You're not used to using the actual title. In fact, none of your friends have ever referred to it by its title.<br/>
<br/>
His smile is wolfish. "I know lots of things," he says quietly. "We can help you, you know. Me and my brother."<br/>
<br/>
Your skin prickles. Joe and Frank know about the book? Is that why Patterson was so eager to take them out, why he is so insistent that their duplicates belong to him? You stare back at Frank. His expression is very taut, and cunning.<br/>
<br/>
If you didn't know Patterson, you'd be very tempted to take him up on this implied offer. But you've had too much experience with your "team captain" to think it a safe play. Patterson will get this guy reprogrammed; and even if he doesn't, it's a safe bet he'll get himself under Frank's mask before long, and will know everything this golem has said to you—and everything you've said to it. <br/>
<br/>
In fact, it'd be best to tell this thing whatever you want Patterson to hear.<br/>
<br/>
"He's my friend," you say, trying to put as much hostility into the rejection as you can. "We're a team, and you don't fuck around with your teammates." <br/>
<br/>
"Are you only teammates," Frank asks in a mocking tone. "Or are you ... closer than that?" He sniggers. "Well, just keep what I said in mind. He can turn more than one person into a golem, you know."<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you know. "Well, I'm glad he did it to you, at least," you haughtily reply. You turn away, but he continues to stare at you contemptuously, until he at last drives you from the room altogether.<br/>
<br/>
"All set," a chipper voice says about ten minutes later as Joe Durras glides into the room with the golem-Patterson in tow. He swaggers up to you and swivels his hips. "I'm sexy enough for two, but you're sexy enough for seven. Together, that makes us sexy enough for a hundred and twenty-eight." You blanch at the math, but he just turns to Frank, who's still slumping at the dining room table. "Off to run errands, bro. Stay in the house and don't answer the door. Don't call anyone, and don't answer the phone, either. Unless it's me."<br/>
<br/>
"So what <i>can</i> I do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your homework. That mask doesn't make you smarter, but nothing can make you stupider." Patterson turns back to you. "Come on, we got a lot of stuff to take care of."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You had a nice time with me earlier, din'cha? With Durras, I mean?" He lifts one hand from the steering wheel so he can tap his chest. "Almost a shame you had to interrupt things out at Farm Road."<br/>
<br/>
"I was just trying to get his guard down," you mutter, and turn to stare out the window at the light Sunday-afternoon traffic.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I think it was more than that. I've been watching Jessica. I mean, come on, Prescott, I know it wasn't <i>you</i> who was all hot for sucking on Joe's lips. But Jessica, man." He laughs and pats you on the knee. "She's hot for this boy."<br/>
<br/>
You pull your knee away.  "You're not making a good case for me staying like this."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "Alright, I'll behave. It's certainly interesting, getting a different view on how to be popular," he adds after moment's silence. <br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't like me much, do you, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't given me much reason to like you."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he drawls. "I understand, and I don't hold it against you. I <i>do</i> kinda hold it against you that you tried making a copy of me." You glance over to see him giving you a sidelong stare. "But all that's in the past." He smiles. "And you've done good work since joining the team. We're all set to have some fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" You suppress a tremble.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, same thing at Eastman that we did at Westside. It'll be easier, too. That's what I was saying about getting a different view on how to be popular. This guy's pretty popular. Frank, less so."<br/>
<br/>
He chuckles. "You know, I have a hell of a hard time getting people to like me, when I'm myself. I have a bad character. I see that now. Joe's a good guy, though, and people cuddle up to him." His voice turns sly. "They won't see it coming before it hits them."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The "errands" take you first to Westside, where you wait in the car while Patterson runs into the gym. He returns, to your surprise, with Anthony Kirk, who—even more surprisingly—is dressed in gym clothes. "Jessica, Anthony," Joe says in a kind of introduction as they get in the truck. Kirk just nods his head as he squeezes between you and Joe. You cast a quizzical look at Patterson, who grins. "It's the golem from upstairs," he says. "Easier to move them around if they're in a mask."<br/>
<br/>
"What do we need the golems for?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't, but I do. We're going back to my place now—Patterson's, I mean." He chuckles. "I need you there for when we pick up the next one. It's your old one, you know, the one I lifted from the old school. I need you to give it some orders."<br/>
<br/>
"If I'm a senior member now, can I have it back?"<br/>
<br/>
You expect him to demur, but nods his head. "Sure, you and Johansson each get a golem now. That's why I need these guys, so we can go out to the cemetery tonight and get some dirt." You're at a stoplight, so he leans over. "Wanna come? Gonna be a full moon. Could be romantic."<br/>
<br/>
"I have homework. And what do you mean Caleb gets a golem?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, right? Johansson made senior yesterday. Yeah, I called him while I was up in the loft, he'll be meeting us out at my place." He grins. "You'll love his new look."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's Seth Javits. He folds his arms and he looks you up and down, and his mouth opens and starts to curl into a smile and—<br/>
<br/>
"One word and I will punch you in the balls," you snarl at him.<br/>
<br/>
"I was just gonna say you look great," he stammers. "Really, I don't know the last time you looked so ... so awesome."<br/>
<br/>
"How about when I last wore Eva?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, this one beats Eva." He circles around you, and you can feel his eyes on your ass. "Beats Eva coming, and definitely going."<br/>
<br/>
The Joe-clad Patterson and the golem-Patterson have disappeared into his house, leaving you alone with Caleb and the golem-Kirk out in the garage. "You didn't tell me you made senior," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I was busy," he says. "Jackass in there called me away from Cindy, too. This had better be worth it. How long before you think you can get your fifth?"<br/>
<br/>
"Set and match. This afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
He whistles low. "And, uh, <i>this</i> is who you're gonna be?"<br/>
<br/>
"For awhile," you say testily, fighting the urge to knee him in the groin.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd <i>luuuuuuuv</i> to join you out there," he says in a low growl. "Hey cap'n," he calls to Joe, who has just reappeared with an armful of clothes. "Can I move over to Eastman with, uh—" He gestures at you.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to talk about that," Joe replies. "And now's as good a time as any. First, though—"<br/>
<br/>
He crosses over to a tarpaulin, which he yanks aside to reveal a golem. Onto it he sets a mask; and to your intense displeasure Geoff Mansfield appears. Patterson drops the clothes onto him. "Prescott, tell him to get dressed, and to help me out at the cemetery tonight. That is," he suddenly adds, "unless you wanna come with."<br/>
<br/>
"What is this plan?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You, me, Mansfield and Kirk, and Richards—oh, and fake me—are gonna hit the cemetery tonight, get the makings for a golem for you."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have to go?" you interject.<br/>
<br/>
"You got a golem of your own already, so no."</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211221122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Life of Jessica Pearce
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I don't do graveyards," you sniff. For almost the first time since you've put on Jessica's mask, you are pleased at being able to turn her personality to such exquisitely apt use.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb gives you a dirty look. "The fuck is your problem?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe laughs. "You heard the bitch," he says. "She doesn't have to help. Prescott's already got a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"A golem I helped make," Caleb says. He turns on you. "I helped you dig all that shit for it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Deal with it," Joe says. "We'll have, like, six guys helping out."<br/>
<br/>
"I think he should do it himself," you say. You clasp your hands behind your back and lean in toward Caleb; he stiffens all over. "You're so big and strong, Seth," you moan softly. "Big muscles all over. And I bet you've got enough stamina to go for <i>hours.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Just give me a chance," he says through unmoving lips.<br/>
<br/>
You stand on tiptoes so you can bring your lips close to his. Your warm breath mixes with his. You open your mouth and touch his. His lips part, and you feel his tongue tentatively touch yours. You touch it back, and tease, and while he's distracted you raise your right hand toward Joe and mime snapping a picture. A few seconds later you're rewarded with the sound of a click, and step back. "Take a breath mint, Johansson," you snap.<br/>
<br/>
"What was that?" Caleb says, clearly confused. Patterson guffaws and waggles the phone at him. "The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just a little blackmail between friends," you mutter over you shoulder at him. "Stop being so horny around me, or Cindy gets a copy."<br/>
<br/>
He blanches. "Jesus, Will!"<br/>
<br/>
Joe laughs again. "Oh, she got you. I like this girl."<br/>
<br/>
Then he turns serious.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, enough fun. Here's the deal. Me and Prescott are moving out to Eastman,"  he tells Caleb. "You can get in touch with me at the number I called you from today. We're gonna take Lynch out there too. He'll still be going to school at Westside, but we'll work it so he completes his jobs at Eastman. That'll leave you and Gordon to run Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"Me and—? Oh, fuck, no!" Caleb moans.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon'll probably say the same thing, but it makes sense. Two senior members at each school, overseeing a junior member. When the juniors are finished, we'll regroup. So get Tilley to finish his jobs. Don't do them for him, and don't help him. We'll have a meeting tomorrow at the usual place to finalize it all.<br/>
<br/>
"As for tonight's plans—" He consults his watch. "We'll all meet here around nine-thirty and then head out." He looks back at the three golems—fake-Patterson, fake-Mansfield, and fake-Kirk. "You guys hang out here until then."<br/>
<br/>
Fake-Patterson snorts.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe drops you off at Westside again so you can collect Jessica's car and return to her house. At least it's a nice house. (It is, in fact, only a few miles away from Kristy Carlson's house, halfway between the McMansion wannabes and the horse-and-bridle set.) And there's nothing very bad about home life. Except ...<br/>
<br/>
Jessica lives with her grandparents, a "temporary" expedient now entering its fourth year as a result of an exceptionally bitter divorce between her parents. The house has two expansive wings off a central living room/courtyard area and is set back deeply from the street by a wide front yard shaded by two mighty oaks. You park on the semi-circular driveway in front (the garages are actually around back, but it's a pain to get into and out of) and stride grimly in through the front door. A grandfather clock by the door chimes the quarter hour.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that you, dear?" a voice calls faintly from several rooms away. You cross the living room and the dining room and the serving hallway and finally come to the kitchen. Grams must have been watching the video monitor; no way she could have <i>heard</i> the front door open and close.<br/>
<br/>
"Hi, Grams," you say, and kiss her on her dusty cheek. Evelyn Salter appears to be well into her evening cocktails as she sits in the dining nook and watches the two screens: one tuned to the security system and the other to ... <i>an old 1960s gladiator movie?</i> You shrug to yourself and cross to the refrigerator.<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you eat while you were out?" The question isn't waspish, exactly, but you flinch. <br/>
<br/>
"They ate," you lie. "I didn't like where we went." You open an old cottage cheese container to find a little pile of green beans limply soaking in coagulated grease; the Salter family didn't get rich by spending money, and the sight is enough to kill your appetite. You glance back over at Grams, expecting a reply, but she's engrossed in the monitors.<br/>
<br/>
Grandfather—whom Jessica avoids as much as possible—is probably in the "business wing" wrestling with tax problems, and you make the long return trip to the living room and then down the hall to your own room. More accurately, it should be "the room where you sleep," for except for the laptop there is very little in the room that suggests the occupancy of a teenage girl: chintzy coverlets on a queen-size bed; a huge mirror in an ornate frame standing over a cherry dresser and next to a matching wardrobe; glass shelves high along three walls holding fake potted plants and antique gewgaws; and heavy silver frames holding pictures of aunts and uncles and cousins and great-grand parents. Since your stay was only supposed to be temporary—and is theoretically expected to end at any moment once the various appeals and countersuits get settled—there was never any offer or insinuation that the room might be redecorated.<br/>
<br/>
You close and lock the door and lay on the bed, knees drawn up.<br/>
<br/>
<i>This,</i> you reflect to yourself, is why Jessica doesn't have friends, at least in part. She has never invited anyone over. Who would feel comfortable in this pile, decorated by an old lady and watched over suspiciously by her, and inhabited by her husband, who flirts shamelessly in restaurants with waitresses a third his age? Jessica has caught and silently—haughtily?—deflected all queries, veiled and naked, about her disinclination to entertain. You feel quite certain the girl herself understands how others would interpret her aloofness, and hold it against her, but how can a girl, even one as sexy as her, be popular when she holds herself apart for reasons she won't explain? And so she remains locked inside her impenetrable, self-imposed shell, for the very good reason that no one would find that shell any warmer on the inside than she does.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of warmth—<br/>
<br/>
You find that you are feeling flushed and excited, even as you rehearse the girl's miseries to yourself. With a start you realize that you've been caressing yourself—arms, legs, hips—as though to ward off a chill. Your hands are now resting on your ample bosom. <i>Oh, what the hell,</i> you think, and lay back to redouble your energetic appreciation of Jessica Pearce's firm body. She has no boyfriend, either, to soothe the ache of raw, unstroked flesh.<br/>
<br/>
But she's got <i>you</i> inside her, now, and you can give her the love. You arch your neck and bite on your lip and suck hard at it as you grip you a thigh in one hand and cradle a boob in the other. You move your hand down to the front of your shorts and rub hard. But it's still cold and hard, like unthawed meat, and even after working at it for a quarter hour—most of it on your front, face buried in a pillow, hunched up with both hands exploring—you can't bring yourself to more than a warm appreciation of what might be <i>unlocked</i> if only you got the right set of hands onto your pussy.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Morning comes, and you rise early and take a long, frigid jog around the neighborhood, passing all the old couples on their own early morning constitutionals. Back home, you shower and put yourself together. Jessica has had to teach herself all about makeup, and has settled for a conservative and rather severe look that doesn't take long to put together—not that she needs much work, you reflect as you sit in front of the bathroom mirror in a short robe and apply light blush and lipstick and a little eyeliner. The hair—a great, long bush whose basic brown lusters with a deep, deep red within—takes longer to pin back with cunningly hidden stays and fasteners. Then it's to dress in hip-hugging jogging shorts and a tight top (which you cover with an equally tight windbreaker zipped up to just below your tits) and ankle socks and pale blue running shoes. Breakfast, which you take alone—Grams is in the back yard tending to her flowers—consists of yogurt and fruit. Then you pack up your satchel and drive off for school.<br/>
<br/>
Eastman is in the thick of the city, near to the somewhat dilapidated downtown, and traffic always coagulates near it when school is starting and letting out, which gives you plenty of time to narrowly eye the students walking along the perimeter. You're wearing sunglasses, which is probably why the few that look in your direction stare; when you're not so shaded, people generally look away.<br/>
<br/>
Knots of students are moving through the parking lot, but you ignore them after locking your car. You should go hang out near the gym, where the boys will be practicing; Patterson will probably want to see you, if for no other reason than to leer. But that would be slightly out of character. Jessica usually keeps to herself by going into first period—Mr. Parker's AP English class—where the student teacher is at least moderately friendly. You might bump into Lawrence Farmer there.<br/>
<br/>
Lawrence Farmer, the one other student whom Alyssa hates, and who, if not exactly friendly to you, will at least gleefully and cattily gossip.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211221
author_id: seuzz
title: Scoping Out a New School
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Before you get too deeply into Jessica's life, it's probably best to talk to Patterson, so you go into the gym, where the basketball team is practicing. It's a cacophony of shouts and echoes and the slap of the ball on the court. A thin but sizable crowd of gawkers spreads out over the far bleachers, but you sit by yourself.<br/>
<br/>
When they're done, the boys retreat to the locker room and the crowd disperses. To your no very great surprise, no one waves or gestures to you. You feel your face tighten, but you force yourself to relax; that kind of expression is probably one reason no one goes out of their way to be friendly to you. Alyssa and her friends, of course, do their best to keep the other alphas away from you, but the non-alphas are probably just too intimidated to try approaching you. Only Adam Karter has ever regularly plopped down next to you, but he's a silly asshole—<br/>
<br/>
Your gaze grows distant. If you're to acquire masks of people, Karter would be a good one. He floats from circle to circle, and seems mostly welcome, for he makes no demands, and the sillier girls like his attentions. Alyssa, of course, and any of the girls that flutter around her, are natural choices as well. If his behavior at Westside is any guide, Patterson will be after girls mostly, and he'll want cheerleaders.<br/>
<br/>
These reflections are interrupted by a shout, and you look up to see Joe Durras grinning at you from the locker entryway. Frank stands at his shoulder, looking at you with measured skepticism. Joe mutters something at him, and with a shrug Frank exits. Joe himself jogs over. He's dressed in knee-length cargo shorts and a shapeless, sleeveless shirt, and his hair gleams wetly. "How'd we look?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Good enough. What's on the agenda for today?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you know. Hang out, get in trouble." He stands on the bleachers a few steps below you and leans forward, planting his hands on either side of your hips, and grins in your face. "You wanna piss Alyssa off?"<br/>
<br/>
His face is bright and clear, and there's mischief in his eyes. "Like how?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Make a scene. Not here. In front of her. We can practice now, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm. Are you really sure you wanna be seen with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, that's the point. Being seen with <i>me.</i>" He leans in a little closer. "Or we could just make ourselves the object of rumor. Get caught behind the school. Lots of fluster and the buttoning of clothes that have been undone in embarrassing places." He lightly touches your windbreaker. "I'm glad to see that zipper doesn't go all the way to the top."<br/>
<br/>
The memory of last night—the hunger for hands not your own on this body—comes back. But this is <i>Patterson,</i> not Joe Durras, and you'd like a fuller knowledge of his agendas. "Have you got a long-term plan in mind, or are you just winging it with your wing wang?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He chuckles dryly at the back of his throat. "I got lots of stuff to worry about, I won't lie. You could help relieve me of some of the tension."<br/>
<br/>
"You still have the masks at Westside for that. Which reminds me, how did things go for you last night at the cemetery?"<br/>
<br/>
He groans.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you <i>all</i> business? It went fine. Your golem is back at my place. Our place, mine and Frank's. You can stop by any time and use it." He clucks his tongue lasciviously. "Either side, any use, any combination, with any company you—"<br/>
<br/>
"What about your parents?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ain't got none. It's just me and Frank out there. Kinda creepy, actually." He glances over his shoulder. "I could use some real company," he goes on before you ask why Frank and Joe haven't got any parents. We need to make you up a new mask anyway. A new Will Prescott, under your control. But now you've got me talking business, and that's boring."<br/>
<br/>
The bell rings. "Gonna be business for the next few hours, I'm afraid," you say. You rise, but he remains crouched over, so that you wind up standing inside his embrace. He rubs you lightly on the back, but you don't reciprocate.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll walk you to class," he says. "Since you don't wanna play, I'll ask if you wanna go to the team meeting at Westside this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"What business do we need to discuss?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably nothing you need to know. I'm gonna tell Lynch and Tilley what's going on, check in on their job status. Or you can just meet up with me at my place around seven."<br/>
<br/>
It might be better than staying in and watching <i>another</i> movie, or it might be worse. "I'll have to see," is all you say.<br/>
<br/>
He keeps his hands off you on the walk to class, and chatters inanely, both at you and at passing acquaintances. At the door to Parker's, though, he takes your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.<br/>
<br/>
<i>That wasn't really like Patterson,</i> you think as you sink into your desk afterward.<br/>
<br/>
The thought doesn't relieve you, though, for you remember his words from yesterday: With him pretending to be Joe, no one will see the double-cross coming.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The day passes tediously. Second period is cheerleader practice. Whatever Alyssa's real feelings about you, she runs practice professionally and courteously, couching even her corrections of you in warm and encouraging tones. But there is still the moat between you and the other girls. <br/>
<br/>
During breaks you find yourself eyeing them appraisingly: Alyssa; Kyra DaSilva; Becky Torres; Leslie Keys; Rhianna Miller; Nina Barraza; Ann Sibley; Nikki Cave; Lorena Espinal. Alyssa, of course, is the captain, and it is something of a testament to her force of personality that she has the position. She is more of an athlete than an acrobat—a weight-lifter who took an unfortunate detour, you find yourself thinking unkindly—but what she lacks in grace she makes up for in raw strength.<br/>
<br/>
Becky Torres (who is very blonde, despite what her name might imply) is probably the only one who rivals Jessica in the body department, and that's mostly because of her great, globe-like breasts. Her legs and ass and arms are a little too skinny, and her teeth a little too prominent. How she came to combine that last name with her Scandinavian cattle-farmer coloring is anyone's guess.<br/>
<br/>
Kyra got her visit from the breast-pump fairy only when the sprite was running low on pressure, but she has the best face of the bunch, probably: dark Italianate coloring and almond-shaped eyes topped with a boyishly short haircut. Rumors of lesbian inclinations run rampant, if Lawrence Farmer is to be believed, but there's no reason for her to keep it a secret, not at Eastman. Maybe she just frequents a hair stylist who's come back from the not-too-distant future.<br/>
<br/>
Concerning the dusky Nina and Lorena there isn't much to be said, except that like Alyssa they acquit their jobs reasonably well but with a minimum of finesse. They also have the ungracious habit of talking thickly to each other in Spanish when they want to say something undiplomatic, which seems to be quite often.<br/>
<br/>
Rhianna Miller is the only other African-American on the team, but she's slimmer and lighter than Alyssa, which means she moves more fluidly. She just has no memory for what moves she should be making, and she giggles when she screws up.<br/>
<br/>
Ann is the smallest member of the team, and with her short legs and fiery red hair she should answer to the adjective "pert." But she is very intense, as though she expects there to be a "Tumbling" section on the SATs.<br/>
<br/>
Leslie is the tomboy who curses when she screws up. Like Ann, she hangs out more with the AP set than the athletes, though the distinction between the two groups isn't nearly as clear cut at Eastman as it as Westside.<br/>
<br/>
And then there's the unfortunately named Nikki Cave, who with her dark hair and Iberian coloring can't quite escape the impression of hairiness, even though she is exquisitely plucked and exfoliated. She also seems to walk around in a cloud bank of humidity which—fairly or not—gives her the reputation of being not just easy but eager for long, hungry, weekend-devouring fucks. <br/>
<br/>
You have enough time at practice to look over all of them, and maybe you are too naked at sizing them up, for at one point Ann catches you looking in her direction. She turns quickly and mutters something to Kyra and Leslie; they glance at you and mutter back with expressions that suggest a sudden memory of what it is like to drink curdled milk.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe manages to be a constant presence (though you have no classes with him), popping up constantly near the door to your classrooms. He's not around at lunch, though you actually go looking for him. Frank isn't around either: maybe business has drawn him off during that extended break from classes.<br/>
<br/>
When the final bell rings you find yourself entertaining a choice. Patterson said you didn't have to go to the "team meeting," but he also seemed to strongly imply you should meet with him. You're not eager to see him, even though he seems much less threatening under Joe's face than under his own; in fact, his being under Joe leaves you feeling even more on guard. But it's not a good idea to skip out on him entirely. The meeting sounds like it will be tedious, and after Caleb's behavior on Sunday you've no great desire to show yourself to Keith, let alone to Gordon and Jason. But if you go to the meeting, you will have a good excuse for not going over to the Durras house this evening.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122112212
author_id: seuzz
title: The Roots of a Long-Range Plan
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It seems best to play closely with Patterson—out of self-preservation if nothing else—and to show yourself as playing closely, too, so you send Joe a quick text message: <i>Meet you at your house at 7.</i> Not long after the reply comes back: <i>K.</i><br/>
<br/>
You kill time in the school library doing homework. Mun-hyeok comes in while you're there, and you watch him with vague interest. That proves to be a minor mistake, insofar as avoidable annoyances constitute mistakes. He looks over and sees you looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
And he's not daunted.<br/>
<br/>
It's not the first time you've locked eyes with the Korean exchange student, but all the other times have been in class, and briefly, and nothing has followed from them, any more than any other random glance has led to anything. But after shoving a book at the librarian, Mun-hyeok follows up this coincidence by striding over. "Sexy sexy," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sexy you, sexy me." He pulls out a chair with one foot and drops into it. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Sexy him?</i> You're not up on the latest K-pop fashions (if such things actually exist), but you carefully and ostentatiously look him up and down while letting your lip curl slightly. His dark hair is tipped with electric blue, and cut so that it lays like a tray of knives aslant his forehead. Pie pan cheekbones slant down narrow cheeks to a small mouth and a pointed chin. A long neck extends from a white shirt that's unbuttoned well down from the collar. He has a nervous, whip-like quality, and he's got a reputation for being fast and hard with the English cuss words (and who knows what Korean filth in the torrents he unleashes when he's excited).<br/>
<br/>
"Sexy me?" he repeats.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Uninterested,</i> says Jessica's psyche. "Are you people at all capable of growing body hair?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes flash. "You like hairy? Fat, hairy cocks?" He slaps his thigh. "Delicious."<br/>
<br/>
You arch your eyebrows. "Oh? You've tried them and found them delicious?"<br/>
<br/>
Maybe he doesn't follow the sentence, but he follows the thought. "Try all kinds," he says softly, maliciously. "You should try all kinds."<br/>
<br/>
This is revolting. And yet— You have a picture of Jessica, glimpsed from outside her skin, as you're capable of seeing her. Frigid? No, just scary. And you've felt her on the inside, her desire again for a hard, wild, loneliness-relieving ride. Jessica and Mun-hyeok would look good together. <br/>
<br/>
Good like Attila and Maleficent. <br/>
<br/>
But right now he just wants pussy. Or he just wants to be annoying. "Fuck off," you say, and return to your homework.<br/>
<br/>
He continues to sit there. You pointedly ignore him, writing nonsense words on the sheet when solid thoughts fail you. Gradually, you become aware that his hand is snaking across the table toward your tits. <br/>
<br/>
You grab him by the fingers and look up at him. He grins and grasps your hand back.<br/>
<br/>
You smile thinly, and change your grasp so that you just have his index finger. Slowly, you pull it back while twisting. Your own smile widens as his evaporates. With a snarl he pulls away.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I did to your finger," you say. "Think what I could do to your cock. Your weak, tiny cock."<br/>
<br/>
He spits something unintelligible and springs from the table.<br/>
<br/>
Still, there's no use making a complete enemy. "Mun-hyeok," you call, and he turns to glare. "Don't give up." You hold his gaze, then return to your homework. He's gone the next time you look around. With luck he'll retreat and brood and try again. If he does, you'll be better prepared to take advantage of the approach—if you decide it's worthwhile.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe opens the door with a cheery tilt of the head. "You eat yet?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No,"  you answer as you brush past.<br/>
<br/>
"Too bad. We don't have much in the house. Ramen. You like ramen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not much. You can have it."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not hungry. Which is weird. Boss isn't much interested in the more technical aspects of the <i>Libra.</i> Me, I find myself wondering where a golem gets its energy. You can't violate the laws of physics, even with magic, you know." He pauses. "And I sure hope some kind of sustenance gets through to the person beneath a mask." He points to his own face.<br/>
<br/>
He's totally lost you, and all you can pick up on is "Boss." You repeat the word in a puzzled tone.<br/>
<br/>
Then he looks puzzled for a minute before a look of realization breaks across his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you were out of the loop," he says. "That's how come you texted me. Yeah, boss man switched places at lunch. He's off being Frank." His face tightens. "He thinks I'm a happy camper about all this now, but I'm just resigned to it." He looks you up and down with slight distaste. "Don't expect me to flirt with you, pervert."<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine with me," you say with a mix of relief and unease. "So you weren't at the team meeting this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope. It's still going on, I guess. Boss man didn't tell me anything about it, either. Didn't tell me anything, come to that, except to do his homework for him. I should get back to it. It takes time to come up with answers that are plausible but embarrassingly wrong." He slouches back down at the dining room table and speaks no more.<br/>
<br/>
About twenty excruciating minutes later the door opens, and Frank comes in. The steel in his eye is much closer to what you've associated with Patterson, but it softens a little as he studies you from the doorway. Then his expression crinkles. "Come here and give me a kiss," he tells you.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't try flirting, Frank," Joe calls from the dining room. "It's like watching Moltke conduct a blitzkrieg with pre-mechanized infantry. It's slow, Prussian, and hasn't a prayer of success."<br/>
<br/>
Frank's lips whiten. <br/>
<br/>
"And I can't make it shut up, either," he says to you in a quiet voice. "People would notice. Come on, let's talk in the living room."<br/>
<br/>
That's fine with you, up to a point, and that point comes when he drops onto the sofa and pats his lap. You give him a look. "How was the team meeting?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face. "Ugly. I went as Frank because I knew it would be hard, and Frank is good at forcing his way." He scratches an eyebrow. "We need to find someone at Eastman that Lynch can get close to and grab. Any ideas?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't get anyone with your help?"<br/>
<br/>
"He has to do it without. That's the rule."<br/>
<br/>
"Who does he know who goes to school here?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one, apparently." He sighs. "I guess we'll have to set up some kind of mid-week party he can crash. What about a cheerleader? Is there anyone you can invite over to your place, and he can show up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not friends with any of them. And I don't do 'parties' or 'invitations'. It's complicated," you sigh when he cocks an eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
"So why don't you explain? We need to do some planning."<br/>
<br/>
"I— Jessica— lives with her grandparents. I'm not even sure 'living with' them really describes it," you continue when he says nothing. "I'm more like a long-term guest. Visitors would not feel welcome, and they really wouldn't be."<br/>
<br/>
He continues to stare, so you stammer out a fuller explanation, which sounds very petty and trivial when put into words. You might have hoped for a little sympathy or understanding, but when you're done he just grunts—a noise which makes him sound bored.<br/>
<br/>
"What about doing it out here," you counter, feeling peevish at his attitude.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess that could work. We can turn this place into party central if we want, what with no adults around."<br/>
<br/>
"You mentioned that this morning. What's the deal? How come these guys live alone?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's complicated."<br/>
<br/>
Now it's your turn to be querulous. "Well, why don't you explain?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I don't want to, and it's none of your business. And actually, I was suggesting that <i>you</i> do an invite because I thought it would be good if Jessica started having a social life. It's gonna be hard for you to help copy people if you keep standing up on that mile-high pedestal."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't <i>want</i> to be on this mile-high pedestal," you retort. "I was looking at some of the other girls this morning, because I knew you'd be wanting masks of them, and thinking maybe I should change places with one of them."<br/>
<br/>
"It's up to you," he shrugs. "Though you ought to wait a week, until next Sunday. Then we can let Jessica out in the parking lot at Westside, and it'll just look like it's the same Sunday we grabbed her. She'll have missed a week, but one week looks just like any other, so she'll just be a little bit confused."<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's do that."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you sure?"<br/>
<br/>
You sag: Why is he being so argumentative? <br/>
<br/>
His next words suggests he was reading your mind: "Because I was thinking we'd make a good couple."<br/>
<br/>
"It's cute that you keep trying to get inside my brand-new pussy," you start to say through gritted teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not that. Well, it is, but you don't have to be there for all the penetrations I'd have planned. That's what golems are for. No, I'm talking about being the power couple. Kyle and Jenny are ripe for a fall. And don't tell me that Jessica's frigid bitch act is only because she's embarrassed by her gran-gran. She'd like to run things, I can tell, and she's got a list of people she'd love to take out.<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't she?" he adds in the tone of a man putting the last nail in the guillotine and inviting you to start herding victims toward the blade.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211221122121
author_id: seuzz
title: How to Divide Three Into Two with No Remainder
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Moving into a new person would involve starting over. And even after twenty-eight hours with Jessica Pearce's body, you get a little electric thrill when you catch sight of yourself or brush a limb against your torso. And there are those twin hungers she feels so deeply: for power, and for fucking. It would be so awesome to feel them sated; so why not be there when they are? Why not help her sate them?<br/>
<br/>
And Patterson's a guy, one plainly susceptible to Jessica's assets. You can use them to get a hold on him. You <i>should</i> use them to get a hold on him.<br/>
<br/>
You and Patterson—Frank Durras—stare at each other intently.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes she does," you say. "And if we're both senior members, both equals, let's make it a partnership. Yeah, I'll help you. And I'll be there every moment," you add meaningfully.<br/>
<br/>
He stares, and then stretches a hand toward you. You take it, then run your hand up his arm, and edge toward him until you can put your other hand on his chest. You stare intently into his eyes. <br/>
<br/>
Then you get onto his lap, and kiss.<br/>
<br/>
It's hard and hungry and muscular. He grips the base of your neck, and you grip his, and squeeze him just under the armpit. He clasps you tightly. You chew and suck and devour each other. You come up for air just long enough to unzip and pull off your jacket, and the heat radiates off your exposed arms and bosom. He starts to tug at your top, then pauses. "Bedroom," he says, and it's not a question.<br/>
<br/>
You get off him, and help him stand. Arms around each other you walk down a short hall and into a small bedroom, where he shuts and locks the door. You jump into the middle of the bed, and the two of you stare at each other as he pulls off his t-shirt and undoes his pants. He's very lean, and his muscles, though nicely sculpted, are not big and meaty. But he gives the impression of being very strong, like iron. Without reaching down or breaking his gaze from yours he pulls off his shoes, then steps easily from his pants and underwear. Then he crawls over the foot of the bed, chasing you like a wolf, until he's on top of you, hands planted on either side of your hips. <br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and go limp as he pulls your shoes off, and then your shorts and panties. He pulls back, though, and lets you take off the top and bra. When you're both completely naked he puts his hand between your thighs and pushes them apart. You clasp your hands around his neck and relax as he gently guides his member into you, like a dagger into a sheath. You groan and arch your back to feel it inside you. He puts a hand under the small of your back and supports you as he flexes and unfurls his cock to completely fill you. You lay back, eyes closed, and gently rock up and down, helping him.<br/>
<br/>
And then he goes very rigid all over and starts driving rhythmically into you. You raise your ankles and lock them around his hips. He drives deeply into you, and levers around, like a crowbar breaking you open. You gasp, and it's your turn to go rigid. You feel a brief hesitation on his part, and then it's like a jackhammer— No, a pile-driver, pounding deeply into you, sending shudders all through you, from scalp to toenails. You seem to fracture all over, and tremble as little pieces flake off, and then larger pieces break off, and then you are nothing but ruins, and he continues to pound at you—bouncing the rubble.<br/>
<br/>
And yet you don't orgasm. Jessica didn't orgasm that one other time, so long ago, when she didn't know what she was doing, and he didn't know what he was doing. You feel good, but you have to frown. Shouldn't there be more?<br/>
<br/>
The hard pulses down below peter out, and then stop. Frank leans down and kisses you deeply, and you kiss back, but more thoughtfully. You hadn't noticed it before, but there is something slightly metallic about the taste of his mouth. He must have noticed, for he pulls back. "What?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. That was nice."<br/>
<br/>
"That's all? Nice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You gaze past his ear. "I feel very good."<br/>
<br/>
You feel his dark gaze on your face, and then with a sigh he pulls back and rolls off you. You look over at him, splayed on his back, as he kneads his forehead. "Well, it was Frank Durras's first time," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"But not Steve Patterson's, I bet."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>that</i> makes me feel better," he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm serious, I feel good. You were <i>very</i> good. But remember who <i>I</i> am." You hug your knees to your chest. "It's pretty weird for me."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a sidelong glance. "Look, if you're worried I'll think you're <i>gay</i> or something—"<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna suck on my puppies for a bit?" You cup the breast nearest his face.<br/>
<br/>
He looks down at it, then cranes over to nibble on the nipple. "What now?" he mumbles as you giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"It tickles." He pulls back and sighs deeply. You roll onto your side and lay a hand on his chest. "You wanna collect yourself, catch your breath, try it again? Maybe I just needed loosening up."<br/>
<br/>
He grunts and closes his eyes. He's silent, and seems to tense, and then abruptly springs from the bed. "I'll be right back," he snaps.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at the door after it closes. It hadn't occurred to you that maybe you'd have to <i>fake</i> enthusiasm; and now that the thought has formed, you have to wonder why it didn't. Were you maybe expecting that you <i>would</i> be blown away by sex with a guy? <br/>
<br/>
Long minutes pass, and you become progressively uneasier. It's one thing to try using sex to twist a guy around your finger. It's quite another to <i>fail.</i> And when it's a dangerous beast like Patterson ...<br/>
<br/>
These thoughts are shattered when the door opens again. But it's Joe who enters. Naked.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. "Did he send <i>you</i> in? Or is that you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Instant recovery," he says. "But maybe we were doing it with the wrong guy. It was Joe that got you so hot last time."<br/>
<br/>
"There was nothing wrong with Frank," you insist with some alarm. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, Joe's got a different style anyway." He hops onto the bed like a little kid and lays next to you. "Frank's like a battering ram. I like to think I'm—" He stumbles a little over the personal pronoun.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm a little more like honey," he says. "Anyway, that's something we have to decide," he adds as he strokes your arm. "If it's gonna be a power couple thing. Which brother are you gonna be with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shouldn't that be your decision? Which brother you're going to be?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna be both, probably. You'll just be with one, at least in public. We should see what the chemistry is like."<br/>
<br/>
He nestles closer, stroking your hair and shoulder. You tuck an arm under him and stroke his back. Joe is shorter than Frank, and though his muscles look bigger you have the impression that he is softer and not nearly as strong. His skin is also very warm, and you feel yourself relaxing, as though he's a large hot water bottle.<br/>
<br/>
He makes no further moves, and you find you're the one who has to ramp things up. You edge closer and kiss him. In contrast to earlier, this session is very gentle, and his kisses are nourishing. He rolls onto his back and lets you sit atop him. You lean over and suck kisses off him, and his cock engorges very slowly, and you twist your hips to accommodate it. It just keeps growing and growing—how big is it?—and finally you have to reach down and tuck it inside you. <i>Whoa</i>; it goes much deeper into you, and you have to raise up onto your knees and hands. He grins like an idiot up at you, as though reading and delighting in your consternation. <br/>
<br/>
"Mmm," you groan, though with an edge of exasperation in your voice. "This is— Ooo!" You suck on your lower lip. It is suddenly very hot down there, and very loose and wet, as though he has swollen to fill all the cracks that Frank had opened up. You feel as though you are melting, and with quickening excitement slide up and down faster and faster. Joe closes his eyes and his mouth splits into a huge grin, and he pushes his head back into the pillow and chuckles dryly at the back of his throat. Your own breath is coming in quick, hard gulps and gasps. Something is happening down there, something is building and gathering and tensing and overtopping itself, and still it gathers, shooting upward until you are dizzy and sick with vertigo and still you are lofting upward and there's a golden shaft inside you, pushing you higher and higher and hi—<br/>
<br/>
"Yeee-aaiigghhhh!"<br/>
<br/>
It's like yellow flashes inside your head, blinding you, and you can hardly feel anything except a pounding and crashing that seems like it's outside you and inside you at the same time. You're vaguely aware that you're digging your nails deeply into flesh, and have the idiotic thought that you need to pull Joe inside you, to swallow him up inside your cunny. Sweat drips from your face. The world whirls. And then you're a thing of rags, and face plant onto the pillow next to his head, bouncing off his cheek and barely missing his nose with yours.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Nnngggh. Whdja say?"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs and traces a finger up the small of your spine. "I said, do you wanna get off me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you mumble. "Go'way."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't go away if you don't get off me."<br/>
<br/>
"Shu'p. 'M busy."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, does all this settle the question? Who're you gonna date?"</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211221122122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Two Pattersons
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You say I don't have to be inside Jessica while you're fucking her?" you ask. Frank shakes his head. "Then why do I have to be inside Jessica at all?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you don't," he replies, sounding a little uncomfortable.<br/>
<br/>
"So how about you keep Jessica as your girlfriend, and I go be someone else?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was hoping we could make this a real partnership, Prescott." He sounds peevish.<br/>
<br/>
"Then how about <i>you</i> be Jessica, and <i>I</i> be Frank or Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not going to happen." Now he's snapping at you. "I told you, these are <i>my</i> guys—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to take them away from you," you retort. "I'm just making a point. We're teammates, and I'm fine with that. It's peachy," you add, though you wince  little at how insincere you sound (for you are). "This partnership idea, though— I'll be honest with you, I'm not real thrilled by it."<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you steadily, but you're not daunted. You only look away when you catch a movement from the corner of your eye, and spot Joe peering around the corner. "Hst," he says to Frank, and after a moment's hesitation your "team captain" rises and joins him in the dining room. Their low voices mutter indistinctly.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I respect your wishes," Frank says when he returns, though his eyes combine the Patterson frost with the Durras steel. "We'll keep things cool with Jessica until Sunday. Think about who you'll want to swap with."<br/>
<br/>
You're not inclined to soften your rejection of him, so you don't, and he shows you out. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Evening and the next day pass without incident. You ponder who you might take in trade for Jessica. Patterson—in whichever Durras guise he's adopted—avoids you, until five o'clock, when he calls and asks over to the house.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got a new toy for us," he says as he closes the front door behind you. He's dressed as Joe now, and for a moment you have the impression he's going to drape an arm around your shoulder and kiss you on the cheek; you freeze and stare hard at him. He seems to read your thought, and grins slyly. "I've been going through the book, and I've been finding some pretty neat shit."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not surprised," you say. "You've had it for a couple of weeks now."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but there were some problems. The spells are getting tricky. I—" He catches himself. "It's been taking a while to figure them you." You snort, and he gives you an exasperated look. "You think you're so smart, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You've no reply to that. "So what's this new toy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Telepathy," he says, drawing you over to the dining room table, off of which he picks up a metal band. "A new kind of band, like cell phones. If you're wearing these, you can talk to your team mates thought-to-thought. Pretty useful if you need to coordinate people without actually talking to them."<br/>
<br/>
You take the band from him. It is a metal strip, very much like the mind bands. The great difference is that the lettering is a flaming red, not a cool blue: STEVEN PERCEVAL PATTERSON. "Why's it got your name?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Because at the moment I'm the only one it's tuned to. Yeah, see, what you do is make up two of them, and set them on people's heads. If they have the same names in them, then those people can all talk to each other. So, we put this one on you, and your name will go in it. Then we seal it. Then we make another one, put it on my head and then on yours, and seal <i>it.</i> Then you wear one, and I wear the other, and we can talk to each other. If we put Gordon's name in them before we seal them, we can have a three-way conversation."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh," you say. "I guess that is pretty neat—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so how about you take Jessica off, and we get these things finished up." He gestures at another band—this one blank—sitting on the table.<br/>
<br/>
You reach for your face, then pause, and eye him. "I should take these clothes off first," you say, and a grin explodes across his face. "But I'll do it in the bedroom," you add, and he groans.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You jerk awake with the feeling that something is trying to explode out of your chest. Your head throbs, and you clutch it with a groan. A tremble passes through your limbs.<br/>
<br/>
And then all the pain and discomfort passes, leaving you with only the feeling that—<br/>
<br/>
You groan again and gingerly touch your chest. <i>Leaving you with only the feeling that you're stuck in a shit body.</i><br/>
<br/>
You sit up with a sigh, to find Joe Durras perched on the side of the bed, looking at you with gleaming eyes. You grab a pillow and hurl it at him—a bad, weak throw that he wholly dodges by merely jerking his head to the side.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I'm here," you grumble. "And we both know what's going on."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" he says softly. "What's your name?"<br/>
<br/>
"William Martin Prescott," you reply with all the sarcasm you can muster. "I should fuck you up for sticking me here. Except that was the plan, wasn't it?" You fall back onto the bed. "How come I wound up here, and <i>you</i> got to stay <i>there?</i>" You point at Joe.<br/>
<br/>
He smirks.<br/>
<br/>
"You're an idiot. That or you don't remember," he says. "The band doesn't transfer anything, it just makes copies." His eyes narrow. "You really think you're Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I <i>know</i> who I am. I'm Steve Patterson." It sounds very odd having to lay claim to your own name. And then the uneasiness grows. "Except," you have to add slowly. "It doesn't really work that way, does it?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"No, <i>I'm</i> Steve Patterson," he says—and he sounds almost as discomfited as you at having to claim the name. "Under this mask, of course," he adds, pointing to his face. "And that really is Prescott's body." He points to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't remind me." You look around for some clothes, but there are only Jessica's discarded things. You feel very awkward, much more awkward than you'd felt when wearing Prescott's mask. <i>I remember that,</i> you think. <i>How weird.</i><br/>
<br/>
"And because this is really Prescott's body," you sigh, "that means I'm really Prescott." <br/>
<br/>
He nods. "But you really do think you're me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Totally convinced of it." You glare at him, and lick your lips. "In fact, I'd really like it if you took that thing off and let me see ... who is under ..." You flinch.<br/>
<br/>
"No, never mind," you hurriedly say as he cocks an eyebrow. "It would be too weird for you to take it off, and I saw that it really was—" Again, you lick your lips. "That it really is me under there." You shiver.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess we'll call this a success," Joe says in a way that is horribly cheerful. "You know, I wasn't totally sure Dumbass Durras had that spell figured out right. But I guess it really does work the way he said it would." He grins. "It makes Prescott think and act just like me. So ... Bro!" He holds out his hand.<br/>
<br/>
You sit up with a grimace, and clasp it, and he draws you off the bed. "Can you get me some clothes?" you ask. "You gotta find this as horrible as I do."<br/>
<br/>
"No shit. You got my sympathies. But before we get you dressed, we need to figure out where you're gonna go. Not back to being Jessica, I bet. Unless you're as curious as I am to know what it feels like having the Patterson penis up in—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're curious, I'm disgusted," you exclaim, pulling away from him. "You would be too, in my place. How about <i>you</i> put on Jessica, and <i>I</i> give you a feel for—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you made your point." He laughs, then turns grave. "Seriously, I think I want you taking over for Frank. It makes sense, us being 'twins' now and everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Also, you wouldn't feel like you have to lock your door at night," you retort. "Not that it could keep him out if he came knocking."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that too," Joe says, and he looks a little uncomfortable. It occurs to you that he hadn't realized just how familiar with his thinking his new partner would be. <br/>
<br/>
"Maybe I should go back to Westside," you counter. "You've had that idea too, right? Keep an eye on those guys? Run things for you while you're over here? Or, same difference," you can't resist adding, "you run things over at Eastman for <i>me</i> while I'm over there."<br/>
<br/>
His lips briefly disappear. "Yeah, I thought of that. But it would be kinda hard for you to run things while being <i>Prescott.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"So I put on my— our—" You sigh. "<i>Your</i> mask and be Steve Patterson. Gordon's just up there fucking golems. I'll pretend I'm doing the same thing."<br/>
<br/>
He's silent for a bit. So are you, for despite your objections, you're not strongly drawn to one possibility over the other. "Okay, I'll admit I'm of two minds on what I want you to do," Joe starts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we're literally of two minds now."<br/>
<br/>
His glance is sharp and impatient; he's fully realizing now that you're not a golem, that <i>you are him.</i> He sucks on his cheek, then makes a face and shrugs. "You wanna be the tie-breaker? Fine, be the tie-breaker. Where do you wanna go?"</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211221222
author_id: seuzz
title: New Boss, Same Old Job
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll go back over to Westside," you say. "We're both kind of nervous about what's probably going on over there."<br/>
<br/>
Joe shrugs again and takes out his cell; a quick phone call later, and the Patterson-golem is on its way over. Joe's brow furrows thoughtfully. "What are we gonna tell people about Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell 'em he's still at Eastman, he made senior partner." You smirk. "He has, in a manner of speaking."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Joe drawls. "Thing is, it seems kinda pointless, your going back to Westside, when I got a golem out there already."<br/>
<br/>
"But he can't boss anyone around, because they think it's just a golem. Anyway, the real point of me going back is to actually <i>be</i> you."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" His tone is sharp.<br/>
<br/>
"You're staying out here is because of Durras and his brother. You can't let them go. Not with everything they know. If any of the other guys in that secret society of theirs comes snooping around— Are you gonna check out that professor at the university? The one whatsisnuts found out about?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe's face tightens, and you can tell that again you've surprised him: You know all about Frank and Joe Durras, and their reasons for being at Eastman. "Maybe," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Then that's the reason you're staying here and sending me back. You take over for these guys—" You point to him. "And I run the team side of things while you handle the, their friends, and the book."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that makes sense."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course it does. I can send Lynch or someone out to Eastman, and he can help you set up the Eastman side."<br/>
<br/>
Joe drums his fingers on his knee.<br/>
<br/>
"Make it Tilley," he says. "We'll tell 'em it's Prescott under this mask—" He points to his face. "And it'll be easier if it's one of Prescott's friends."<br/>
<br/>
"I like the way we think."<br/>
<br/>
Again, his face tightens.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Not that you blame him for being a little freaked out at the casual way you've pushed him into the new plan; in his place you'd be freaked too if Prescott started bossing you around. But you take grim satisfaction in your performance, for you yourself are still more than a little freaked out at being stuck in Prescott's body.<br/>
<br/>
You feel a little better when you've got a "Patterson" mask back on. It's a new one, though: the old mask has that golem goop in it. After it arrives, the Patterson-golem watches with a curious expression on its face as your twin—the person that, no matter how you try, you cannot think of as the "real" Steve Patterson—takes off Joe Durras's face and puts an impression of his face into a new mask. There's no mind band—for you've got all of Patterson's mental states, naturally—and you practically grab it from him after he's sealed it. You retreat into the bedroom and flop onto the bed, to jam it onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
You wake fifteen minutes later, feeling much more yourself, to find Jessica Pearce gazing speculatively at you from the perch where Joe Durras had been sitting.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey there." You stretch out a hand. "How about you make me feel good before we both have to go." Your cock is already rising.<br/>
<br/>
"You were right, this is disgusting," she says, and pulls away.<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, <i>me!</i>" you shout. "Will you get in here and tell this bitch I need servicing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm right here," Jessica growls.<br/>
<br/>
You blink, then laugh. "Oh, so you <i>do</i> wanna see what a Patterson-pole dance is like."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's just easiest this way," she says, standing. "I put Durras's mask back on him. It already had that golem stuff inside it, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"The whole point was so you could stay inside one of those altar-boy goons."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll put some of the stuff inside this mask when you're gone, then switch back into one of them."<br/>
<br/>
"After you've let Frank and Joe have a jam session inside you with a three-way," you laugh. Spots show in her cheeks. "Come on," you say, and reach again for her. "Jessica is totally hot, and I wanna nail her in the worst way."<br/>
<br/>
"If I have to call Joe and Frank in here, they will totally fuck you up," she hisses, and leaps from the bed.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself flush, but you force yourself to smile. "I never could take a joke, could I?" you mutter through a crooked jaw. "Okay, just promise me you'll think about it."<br/>
<br/>
"If I didn't do it with my golem, why would I do it with you?"<br/>
<br/>
You've no answer to that, but that's okay, because she's reminded you of a different issue. "That golem of ours back in the fuck room. It's not gonna obey me, is it? Because it's got—" You have to grimace. "It's got <i>your</i> hair in it. I'll have to swap out Prescott's golem for it."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that's what you'll be doing tonight," she retorts.<br/>
<br/>
But it's been a busy day, so you just go home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I gotta bad itch," you say. "Right down here." You rub the front of your jeans. But your cock remains flaccid.<br/>
<br/>
Nurse Shaffer purses her lips. "I'm not surprised. God only knows how many diseases you've picked up, Mr. Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, it's 'cos I need fresh pussy. Who've you got for me?"<br/>
<br/>
Westside's school nurse holds the thermometer rigidly. "If you're not going to put this under your tongue, I'm going to have to ask you to <i>stick it in the other end,</i>" she says.<br/>
<br/>
You snicker. "We'll save the rectal probing for Lynch. Who've you picked up for us, Tilley?" You jerk your chin at the cabinet.<br/>
<br/>
"You're my first customer of the day," she says. "Gordon already picked up yesterday's batch."<br/>
<br/>
You groan. You'd thought it a sweet idea, putting Keith in for the school nurse so he could grab copies of everyone who came into her office, but the haul has been thin and disappointing: mostly sophomores and freshmen, and mostly boys. According to Gordon, Adrianna Burd—a freshman girl—is the only good-looking one in the batch. <br/>
<br/>
Your scalp prickles in frustration. "Maybe you'll have to do, then," you snap. "How much action is Nurse Diesel getting?"<br/>
<br/>
She draws herself up stiffly. "There's nothing in the school handbook that says you can't talk to staff members that way," she says in a shrill voice. "But I only have to speak to Mr. Sagansky—"<br/>
<br/>
"You say one word to Sagansky and you'll be stuck in that body," you retort. "But I'm just jerking your chain. Actually, I came by to tell you that you can resign your position early. Lynch'll be here after lunch. Him and Keith Tilley are gonna get in a fight, and you'll have to repair the damage. While they're in here, Jason will switch with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" she says, her eyes widening eagerly. <br/>
<br/>
"I shit you not. After school, take the mask of yourself and drive out to this address." You hand her a slip of paper that has the Durrases' address on it. "That's where Prescott is. He made senior yesterday, and you'll be working under him over at Eastman until you get your fifth."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said doing Nurse Shaffer's job would count as 'getting my five'." Tilley's whine creeps into Shaffer's voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Stay as her until Friday, and we'll let it count as five," you reply. "Or you can bug out early and work from inside an Eastman hottie. Your choice."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay, I like the idea of moving," she hastily says.<br/>
<br/>
"Thought you would. Oh, and don't forget that Prescott is your boss out there. If he says you have to start over and score five Eastman students, that's what you have to do." You hop off the examination table as horror dawns on her face. "But at least you'll be out there with a friend." You clap her on the shoulder and smile with brittle insincerity. "You won't have to deal with my shit."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It feels good being back at Westside, where you're a full head taller than most of the student body, and where you can push your way through the crowded halls without earning worse than a dirty look. It was odd being at Eastman, where as Joe Durras and as Frank you had to be nicer to people. <br/>
<br/>
You stop short, and someone small bounces off your back pack. You cast a cold glance back, but whoever it was has already scurried off. That's okay: You'd stopped because the odd feeling has returned—the feeling of being haunted by Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
It was bearable—even normal—when you were outside this mask, naked in Prescott's body. But his mind is still here, even though you are yourself look back to normal: Steve Patterson, standing in the hallways of Westside High, daunting any who draw near. You grit your teeth: He is here because, as the brain of Joe Durras explained in deciphering the new spell, you really <i>are</i> him; the sense that you're Steve Patterson is just an illusion. And so even though you are Steve Patterson—<i>you are, dammit, of that you are more sure than anything</i>—you've got Prescott inside your head too. And he's ...<br/>
<br/>
Well, he's not unhappy. He's enjoying the sense of mastery that comes with being Steve Patterson. But he's also pissed at being betrayed by Patterson. You kick at him mentally: Dickhead deserved it for refusing to partner with you.<br/>
<br/>
Betrayal: There's a lot of that going around, most of it set off by you. Johansson is probably plotting something. You feel your eyes crinkle in amusement. It would be easy to find out. You could really fuck with him by taking off this mask and pretending to be Prescott. It would be a perfect imitation, and there'd be no mask for him to pull at.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122112212222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Management Secrets of Steve Patterson
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You grunt softly to yourself. No, fucking with Johansson isn't worth it, and you're tempted only because the little Prescott homunculus inside you is making trouble. He's pissed off because now he knows about how Johansson and Tilley betrayed him, and he wants to hurt them back. <br/>
<br/>
Oh, he ought to be pissed off at you, too, because you made them do it. And maybe he is pissed at you. But you—you're just coldly amused. Yeah, you made Prescott's friends do those jobs. At the time you thought it would be a good insurance policy: a little blackmail to hold over them, so they'd be careful about cooperating with Prescott against you, for you could blow up their friendship by revealing what they'd done. Also, each of them would wonder if his other friend had done something dirty to him. Cold, self-interested suspicion would keep them apart, and dependent upon you.<br/>
<br/>
But there's no need to worry about Prescott now, and Tilley will soon be at Eastman. Johansson will be alone, with no one to make common cause with.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gonna hang out with Cindy upstairs after practice today, if that's alright with you," Seth Javits murmurs to you at your locker just before the start of third period.<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you say it a little louder, Javits," you say in voice that carries over the roar of the crowd. "I don't think everyone heard what you're planning to do with your girlfriend after school and where you're planning to do it."<br/>
<br/>
Javits turns very red. <br/>
<br/>
"You've been up there an awful lot since Sunday," you continue. "How about you let someone else use it for a change?"<br/>
<br/>
You've only been gone a couple of days, but you've returned to novel arrangements. Aside from the change to your own being, Caleb Johansson is now a senior member of the club and is living under Seth Javits's identity—Javits himself is now trapped under Johansson's mask—so that's how come Javits has access to the fuck room, and has been taking Cindy up there every day. Meanwhile, up until today Tilley was pretending to be Nurse Shaffer, but Lynch—who has finally managed to score a copy of Laurent Delacroix—will be taking over for him. That only leaves Gordon unchanged; and Gordon hasn't been one for changes.<br/>
<br/>
At lunch, in the cafeteria, you watch him and Chelsea out of the corner of your eye. He's got his arm around her shoulder, and there briefly flashes through your brain the hope that Chelsea will get felled by food poisoning and have to make a trip to the school nurse. "If we wear our uniforms out there—" she is saying.<br/>
<br/>
You catch Gordon's eye, and with a careful flick of your eyelid convey a small novel cataloging your opinion of Chelsea and her transparent attempt to overwhelm and hijack Sophia Van den Berg's upcoming Halloween party. Gordon just stares back at you blankly; and Chelsea wears out her breath long after you've ceased paying attention.<br/>
<br/>
"Look at this shit," Lynch mutters as with a loud crash he drops a tray of gloppy food onto the table and slides into the seat next to you. For a muscle-bound little fireplug of psychosis, Lynch can move with a silken grace—or he moves with a silken grace when he forgets how girly it makes him look. <br/>
<br/>
"Where the fuck have you been?" you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Miss me?" he grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Get your hand off my knee."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker. Anyway, yeah, I had to go to the nurse's office. Me and this pissant got in a fight." Again you catch Gordon's eye, and this time his lips twitch: he was the one who gave Lynch his new assignment. You are briefly tempted to pull the mask off the thing next to you, and let Nurse Shaffer spill out in front of the horrified alpha-jock table.<br/>
<br/>
"You're such a baby," you snort. Lynch mutters something inaudible.<br/>
<br/>
Your noises have attracted Chelsea's attention, at least briefly. She is looking over at you and Lynch with a mild frown, as though resenting the distraction. She glances up at Gordon, and then her eyes lock onto something at the far end of the table. A little glint comes into them, and you feel a cold spot form above your heart. The light in her eyes is the sheet lightning of a far off but rapidly approaching thunderhead. You don't have to turn your own head to know who she's looking at. It will be Seth and Cindy, cuddling and cooing over each other. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Gordon haven't had much of a chance to talk since your "return" from Eastman, so at after-school practice the two of you set the rest of the team to drilling while you stand off to the side, ostensibly to watch and grade, but actually to talk about things. "So are the little shits gonna be scoring us any more Eastman players?" Gordon asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I told 'em I wanted Carpenter and Straussler," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"What about Gregory?"<br/>
<br/>
"We get Carpenter, we can sideline Gregory. Otherwise, it's a pussy raid."<br/>
<br/>
He grunts. "Make that one get out of Javits. I can't stand looking at him."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you wanna step into Javits's shoes?" you tease. "Get a little Cindy action?"<br/>
<br/>
He shoots you a hard, dark look, and his jaw clenches. "I can do that with the mask and that thing you got upstairs."<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't, though. Chelsea's been good to you lately."<br/>
<br/>
"Mnh. But just move that guy out to Eastman, along with his friends. If you're not gonna get rid of 'em."<br/>
<br/>
"They're too useful. Lynch too. We can move him to Eastman too." Gordon says nothing; he knows you don't like Lynch. "We could have real fun, just the two of us, without the others gumming up things."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>toldja</i> we could get rid of 'em."<br/>
<br/>
"And I toldja we could make up a double of Chelsea, but you didn't like <i>that</i> idea."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you queer for thsse assholes?" he asks. "Are they sucking your cock? Cuz that's what Chelsea does for me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just making a point that we can't always get what we want. Find a way to make yourself happy, Gordon. We'll move Johansson to Eastman and then <i>you</i> can take over for Javits."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want—"<br/>
<br/>
"After hours, I mean. So you don't have to go home. Be yourself at school, where it matters, and be Seth at night."<br/>
<br/>
He puts his hands on his hips and taps the hard floor with his toe. "I'll think about it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Miss me?" you grin at Kendra, and squeeze her thigh with one hand while navigating the car with the other.<br/>
<br/>
"What day is it?" she says in a dazed tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't matter. It's just you, me, and endless possibilities."<br/>
<br/>
But she's looking very peaked, and her eyes don't focus on anything, even though she's trying to take in the traffic and the storefronts and the rest of the city you have on your way home. "It's nice to be outside that loft," she says. "You should take me out more often."<br/>
<br/>
You do a little double take at her words; is it possible that all this blinking in and out of existence, and being trapped in the same locale, is damaging to a golem? You've certainly not thought of them as being real things, but if being imprisoned is psychologically damaging to them—<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. No, it's just an illusion created by the masks, you decide.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's a nice Sunday afternoon drive for you," you say. "Even though it's not Sunday." You pat her on the thigh again. "Okay, we'll be there in five minutes. Get undressed."<br/>
<br/>
She winces, but complies: The golem doesn't have to obey you, but this one at least seems to have accumulated the habit of obedience. Still, you'll feel better when you've got it swapped out for the other golem.<br/>
<br/>
She's out of her clothes by the time you pull up in front of your house. Inside the garage you pull the tarpaulin off Prescott's old golem, then gesture Kendra out of the car and have her lay down beside it. She sighs sadly as you lay your hand on her face and tear the mask off. <br/>
<br/>
You're about to set it onto the other golem when another idea occurs to you, and you open up the box that sits half-hidden by the garage wall. You smile down at the two masks it contains: the two masks that Tilley and Johansson got for you, and which you moved out here so Prescott wouldn't stumble over them. <br/>
<br/>
One of these days you might find a use for the mask of Harris Prescott—which Tilley scored as his first job for you—but right now you're thinking you could definitely use the other mask, which was Johansson's fifth job. Is Umeko Prescott—Will's cousin—as hot as he thinks she is?</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211221122122221
author_id: seuzz
title: A Girl, Interrupted
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yeah, Umeko. That's a hot idea. The Prescott homunculus quivers with excitement even as it recoils in horror. You toss Kendra's mask back into the car, then put Umeko's mask onto the golem.<br/>
<br/>
It flushes all over and melts into the shape of a lithe Asian beauty: slimmer than Lin, taller and more mature-looking than Yumi. Your nostrils flare with excitement.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes flutter open, and you touch her lips with your fingertips. "You have to do what I say," you remind her as her eyes open. "Be very quiet."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you? Where am I?" she asks apprehensively. She starts a little as she realizes she is naked.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry about it," you tell her. "Just do what I say. Get up—" You hold out a hand and help her to her feet. "Get in the car. Hide down in the floorboard."<br/>
<br/>
You make a quick trip inside the house, to grab a couple of beers. (Stocks at the fuck room, you noticed earlier, are running low.) "I'll be out with Gordon for a few hours," you holler. Your mother shouts something unintelligible back, but she never interferes.<br/>
<br/>
"Get dressed," you tell Umeko as you hop into the car. With a frown she picks up the shapeless sweatpants and sweatshirt that you stole from one of the PE lockers. "Now, listen to me very carefully."<br/>
<br/>
It's a carefully rehearsed speech you've crafted, one honed on the Kendra and Lisa and Maria and Cindy golems to make them docile. "You like me, Umeko," you tell her in a soft but commanding tone. "You trust me. Look at me. You think I'm sexy. You know that I'm your friend. You like to be with me. You want to make me happy."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," she says softly, and pulls on the sweat top. "But that still doesn't tell me who you are or how I got here."<br/>
<br/>
You rub her leg. "My name is Steve. I'm a friend of your cousin's. Will?" You suppress a little snicker.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" she says, lighting up a little. "How do you know Will?"<br/>
<br/>
Damn, is she actually interested in him? Maybe after spending some of your Patterson batter inside her you can take off this mask and see what Prescott's got inside him. "I go to school with him. We're teammates."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know he went out for sports," she says a little suspiciously.<br/>
<br/>
"But you can tell I do, right?" you laugh. "Yeah, but it's not that kind of team." You stroke her leg with a little more warmth and excitement. "You're gonna play for us too, though. But on the other side."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a sidelong glance but says nothing. You continue to speak soothing words to her, smoothing away the suspicions the golem carries over from the original girl, while continuing to rub and massage her leg. It is very exciting, and you cock strains against the crotch of your jeans. It is a lot more exciting than the girls you'd had on the golems before, maybe because she is brand new—and a college student—whereas you've seen Cindy and Kendra and Maria and Lisa around all the time, and have had two of them before. <br/>
<br/>
You've got her sufficiently relaxed by the time you reach the school that she doesn't question or draw back from it or you, and accepts your arm around her shoulders as a perfectly natural gesture. She is slim and not terribly well-padded with muscle; the tone of her body reminds of hard rubber, which is a nice anticipation, and halfway across the gym floor you stop her and run your hands down her arms and sides. You gnaw a little at the back of her neck, and grab at her ass.<br/>
<br/>
Then it's with impossibly mounting excitement that you go up the stairs and into the loft. There she pinches at her nose at the smell, but you don't even bother to apologize or correct her reaction. Instead, you take off your shoes—hopping up and down on one foot as you pull off each—then tear off your shirt and yank off your jeans. Your cock springs out, straining, and you drop back onto the mat. You pat your thigh invitingly, and leer.<br/>
<br/>
Her smile is tight, and a little mischievous. "And what am I supposed to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Give me a blow job," you gasp. "What do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I'm not going to be very good at it," she says, but drops to her knees to cautiously approach. "I've never done this before."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh. "Oh come on. You've <i>never</i> sucked a guy off? Well, what <i>are</i> you good at? Come on, tell me what your specialty is."<br/>
<br/>
She gets a furtive look. "Normally I wouldn't tell you, but normally I wouldn't be up here with a guy I barely know. But I'm usually with a girl when I'm doing this kind of thing."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. Somewhere inside you, Prescott's jaw also unhinges and falls with a clatter onto the floor. "You're a dyke?!"<br/>
<br/>
"I hate that word," she says. Now she doesn't bother to hide her distaste as she regards your dick. "And you're gonna hate <i>me</i> now."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you kidding? This is <i>awesome!</i>" Why it never occurred to you to use these things for girl-on-girl action— Well, it's because <i>you'd</i> have to take the part of a girl by using a mask, and there'd be "gay" jokes or something from Gordon or Lynch. And, anyway, would Kendra or Cindy know what to do? But with an honest-to-God lesbian on hand—and one who's not a bull-dyke or anything—and who seems to know what to do—<br/>
<br/>
No, you still don't want to be the other girl. Do you? Just watch? "Damn, I need to make me another golem," you hiss to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
But wait, you <i>have</i> another golem. The thing under Jeremy Richards' mask. It'll obey you! Get Richards out here, swap off the Jeremy-mask for one of the girl-masks for an hour or so; kick back with a beer and watch this Umeko chick go at it with another girl. With Lisa! You put your head back and howl. Perfect! Prescott's little guy jumps up and down inside you, howling, but you kick it savagely. Yeah, Lisa and Umeko, munching on each other!<br/>
<br/>
Your hand is actually shaking as you fumble the phone from your pants pocket, and you misdial the number three times before finally inputting it correctly. Jeremy's lazy, insolent whine comes through—"Yeah? Hello?"—and you're just gasping out the words telling it to come over—<br/>
<br/>
When the door opens. Ouch! You whip your head around so hard your neck twinges. Gordon takes one look at you, then turns away with a sigh, closing his eyes. "Fuck, man, put some pants on," he says. "You're gonna put someone's eye out with that thing."<br/>
<br/>
"I oughta skull fuck you with it!" you explode. "No, not you, Richards! What are you—? Shut up! Call me back later!" You slap the phone down. "God damn, Gordon, you're supposed to call before you bust in!"<br/>
<br/>
"Coach gave the keys to <i>me,</i>" he reminds you. "I can come up here whenever I want."<br/>
<br/>
"I always call before <i>I</i> come up! A little courtesy, bro!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just finish your business and get out so I can have a turn with that thing." He seems to notice Umeko for the first time; she's hunched over, seemingly trying to melt into the floor. With his typical lack of ceremony, Gordon stalks over and pulls her face around with a meaty hand. "Hey, this is a new one. Where'd she come from?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know, she <i>could</i> be real, Gordon," you say sarcastically. "Imagine what a dope you'd feel if she were."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. So where'd you get her?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's Johansson's last job. College student—"<br/>
<br/>
"Has <i>he</i> been in her? Cuz I don't wanna touch anything he's been fucking."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you're just gonna have to make do with Chelsea. Why aren't you with her, by the way?"<br/>
<br/>
"Another fight. It was too good to last." He turns away with a snarl. "Fucking Javits. Ever since that shit-face scarecrow got into him—" He glowers. "She wants me to break them up."<br/>
<br/>
"Who wants who to break up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea," he says through gritted teeth. "She wants me to break Javits and Cindy up."<br/>
<br/>
Well, this ought to have been predictable, because it's something Chelsea has tried before. But it's not a crisis you want to deal with now, so you just throw your head back and sigh deeply. Gordon glowers briefly at you, then abruptly stalks from the room. You almost apologize to Umeko for the interruption before catching yourself. But your cock is now deflated, and you look at her speculatively for a minute, then gesture her over. She crawls onto you, and you take her neck in your hand and push in for a kiss—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Wheck! Klang!</i> Oh, goddamn it. Now Gordon is shooting hoops downstairs. You push her off and snatch up your pants. <br/>
<br/>
"Yo Gordon, come on, man!" you yell as you hop down the stairs, shirtless and shoeless. "Gimme a little peace! That, or actually <i>talk</i> to me!" You're counting on his natural reticence to drive him out of the gym, but—<br/>
<br/>
"I can't stand being with Chelsea," he says softly. "But I can't stand being away from her. And I'd kill anyone who touches her." He says the last with such quiet fury that there's no question of him exaggerating. <br/>
<br/>
"So break up Javits and Cindy. What's the problem?" He looks over at you sharply. "He's our little sock puppet. If Johansson squawks we tell he can just move to a new mask. Come on, tell Chelsea you'll do it."<br/>
<br/>
He says nothing for a moment. Then: "Maybe I need to take a vacation. Dad's being a real asshole besides. Maybe I should move over to Eastman, take charge over there."<br/>
<br/>
"Now wait a minute." You've liked the current arrangement, with you running things while Gordon fucks golems. And you don't want Gordon hooking up with— with the <i>other</i> Patterson. When Gordon came back, he'd treat you like shit, you're sure.<br/>
<br/>
You have to fix Chelsea. But there's only one way you know how to do that.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112211221222211
author_id: seuzz
title: Compromising Positions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Now wait a minute," you'd said, and Gordon is still looking at you. "Don't go running off half-cocked," you stammer. "You said you can't stand being away from Chelsea, and Eastman is a long way away." He grunts. "Just break Javits and Cindy up. That's easy. Chelsea'll love you for that. See what happens next."<br/>
<br/>
"I still want a vacation," he mutters. "My dad—"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you this afternoon, you can do that after hours. And if you wanna make a bigger change, well, you can be someone else inside Westside, too, so you can stay close to Chelsea." You get a little half-smile. "Hell, you can step in for Maria or Kendra, be one of Chelsea's <i>girl</i> friends."<br/>
<br/>
That provokes a <i>look</i> from him.<br/>
<br/>
"Or take over for Javits and get him a new girlfriend. Or, I dunno. You got so many possibilities."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna be someone else—"<br/>
<br/>
"You just said you wanted a vacation!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God damn it! I want what I've got! I just want it to fucking <i>work!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Then you gotta fix Chelsea." His head jerks sharply as he looks at you. "I mean <i>fix things</i> with her," you correct yourself. "Break up Javits and Cindy. After that, maybe you'll be happy with what you've got again."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright." He sighs heavily. "You tell ... whatsisnuts ... that the party is over for him. Handle that the way you wanna handle it, I don't even wanna know about it."<br/>
<br/>
"I will. Now, can I go back upstairs? Can you leave? Or do you wanna go up and take a turn?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon rubs his arm and stares at the floor. "I don't wanna go home."<br/>
<br/>
"So spend the night here. Lotsa company you can keep. Except, no, you'd have to send that copy of yourself home." He swears. "Then let's get Johansson out here with that Javits mask. You can go home as Seth. Have his last session with Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
"I said I don't wanna deal with— Oh, fuck it!" He hurls the ball he's been holding to the far end of the gym and stalks out. You curse long and loudly to yourself after he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
You'd really like to get back upstairs to Umeko, but Gordon has totally blown your concentration for that. You need to think. So when you go back upstairs you just rip the mask off the golem and jam it into the cabinet for later use. <br/>
<br/>
And then you do a lot of thinking. It helps to have something to do while you plot, so you spend the next two hours making up a batch of blank masks. You still have nearly ten left over from the first batch you made after acquiring the book, but between "Nurse Shaffer" and the new Eastman franchise you can tell you will need a bunch more. When you're done you put a new mask onto the golem—Laurent Delacroix's; it amuses you to have the captain of the wrestling team under your thumb—and hand it the power buffer. That's the secret of mass mask production: it only takes a little less than an hour to get a mask polished to a perfect sheen with that thing. You order the golem to get the new set polished up by morning. <br/>
<br/>
And then you go home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You're gonna wanna change situations, Johansson," you tell Javits the next morning. You're in the changing room after practice, having asked him to stay late. <br/>
<br/>
"I like where I am," he replies with a frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, Javits's life is about to go into the shitter. Him and Cindy are about to have a bad bust up. You won't want to be around for the aftermath."<br/>
<br/>
"Who's says they're gonna bust up?" he retorts. <br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea does. She doesn't want them dating anymore, and she's told Gordon to put the screws to Javits to break them apart."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes flash and his cheeks flush.<br/>
<br/>
"Is she on this team? Why doesn't Gordon tell her to go fuck herself? And I'm a senior member, right? Or did that promotion turn out to be a lot of bullshit?"<br/>
<br/>
"We all have to compromise to keep each other happy," you tell him in a flat but steely tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking cunt," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"You won't get any argument from me on that," you allow. "But we're not fucking with <i>you.</i> We're fucking with Javits. If you wanna stick around and suffer along with him—" He curses, but winds up nodding his head. "Good. You have your pick of where to go. After you help with the bust up."<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya mean?"<br/>
<br/>
You outline your plan, and he groans long and loud. "We do it that way to make it stick, for after we let Javits back out. You can stick around here, or— Well, maybe you won't wanna deal with me and Gordon's shit any more. You can move out to Eastman to be with Prescott and Tilley."<br/>
<br/>
"That sounds good," he mutters. You nod; you spoke to ... the other Patterson ... last night, and he agreed to take Johansson on if he wanted to move. "When are we gonna do it? Tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Hang around the loft, have things ready. Make it Kendra. She's enough of a bitch that she'll be believable."<br/>
<br/>
"What about the real Kendra? When all this breaks open—"<br/>
<br/>
"Leave that to me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm doing you a huge favor, Chelsea. You and Gordon both. Do me a favor, okay?" She gives you a narrow glance from the passenger-side of your car. "Don't mention me, don't tell them I'm downstairs. Just stick to the story, that you went up there to set up a surprise for Gordon. After Seth leaves, call me and I'll come up."<br/>
<br/>
"This doesn't sound like something Kendra would do," Chelsea says, her voice dripping with suspicion.<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't? Well, I set it up with her, too. I told her you'd owe her big time if she did this."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like people minding my business for me," she snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"Then don't make me and Gordon do your dirty work," you retort. "This is the way to make it permanent. And if you don't like owing Kendra, well, astonish her afterward with your ingratitude."<br/>
<br/>
She snorts. "All you had to do was tell Seth he was off the team if he didn't break up with Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
"And they'd just pretend. You want the break up to be for pretend, or for real?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're an asshole, Steve."<br/>
<br/>
"And you're a cunt." You blast your horn at the car ahead, which isn't moving despite the green light. "It's amazing what Gordon will do for you, and it's amazing what I'll do for him."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe I'll amaze <i>you</i> with my ... my being not grateful."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, I'd like to see you try, after I've got the mask on you,</i> you think to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Once inside the gym, you go into the changing rooms while Chelsea goes upstairs, to surprise a supposedly oblivious Seth who has been lured into a compromising position. You dig around inside your locker while waiting, making sure you have all the stuff you'll need. It's not a long wait, and Javits is very white in the face when he stalks in. "Well, that went off about like you'd expect," he growls.<br/>
<br/>
"She get a picture?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think she got three. One of them of me swinging my fist at her."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you connect?" you chortle. He shakes his head. "It'll look good anyway, and I bet it felt good. Now beat it. You're not supposed to know I'm here."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ignore her. Let the fireworks go off tomorrow. We'll let Javits out after school. Gonna suck to be him."<br/>
<br/>
You let him leave, then go up to the fuck room yourself. There you find Chelsea standing with hands on her hips. She and the golem-Kendra are both looking very bewildered. "Will you talk to this girl," Chelsea says, turning on you in exasperation. "She's not making any sense."<br/>
<br/>
"That's because she's not real," you calmly tell her. Kendra is still naked, and still sprawled on the mat. You bend over and pull the mask off her, and the bare golem appears.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea just blinks, like she's been surprised with a conjuring trick. She stares at the pile of mud, then takes a step forward to peer at it. "What the—?" she starts. "Kendra?" she asks in a puzzled tone, as though expecting the slab of inert material to reply.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you you're a cunt, Chelsea," you say quietly. "And it stops now. You're going to start being a hell of a lot nicer to Gordon." And with that you shove the blank mask you were carrying onto her face. She topples forward into your arms, and you let her drop hard onto the floor.<br/>
<br/>
And then you pause, for it has come to the point where you have to make up your mind exactly what to do.<br/>
<br/>
The easiest thing is to golemize her mask when it comes out, to set it under your control. Order her to act normal, but to not fight with Gordon any more. But that could be tricky, for what if Gordon got suspicious? His one unbreakable rule, he told you when you got the book, was that Chelsea couldn't be a victim. If he finds out you've double-crossed him ...<br/>
<br/>
The alternative is much less palatable: to don Chelsea's mask yourself and take over her part, at least for a little while. You could more carefully calibrate "her" behavior around Gordon, to keep him from being suspicious. And if he caught on? Well, there'd be an angle there.<br/>
<br/>
For if he <i>did</i> pull her mask off you, he'd find "Will Prescott" beneath. A "Will Prescott" who would claim to be the bewildered victim of the Steve Patterson over at Eastman. A bust-up between Gordon and the erstwhile "original" might be a useful situation for manipulation, if you moved quickly and deftly enough.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221122112212222112
author_id: imaj
title: Three Is A Crowd
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You drop the golemized mask onto Chelsea’s unconscious face.  Instantly, the slim limb stretch and become more defined as the body bulks out.  In less than a second, a <i>ver</i>y naked – you disrobed Chelsea first and given the difference in size between the two you are glad you did – Steve Patterson lies below you.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to fuck you up for this,” snarls the golem, its eyes flicking open.<br/>
<br/>
That line might have scared Will Prescott, you can almost feel his persona quivering, but you aren’t Will Prescott any more, not really.  “Oh really,” you reply with a sardonic smile that wouldn’t look out of place on the golem’s face.  “I think you’re my bitch now,” you snarl.  The golem’s face turns a peculiar shade but it says nothing.  “Besides, you remember who I really am.”<br/>
<br/>
The golem sits itself up before continuing.  “You’re me,” it says.  “Or you think you’re me.”<br/>
<br/>
“See,” you interrupt, “Something we both have in common already.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, real fuckin’ funny,” replies the golem, rubbing its hands.  “So what do I call you?  Prescott or Steve?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think we’ll stick with Chief,” you gloat.  “At least in private.  In a minute you can call me Chelsea though.”<br/>
<br/>
“You really going to make that swap,” asks the golem.  It has the same set of memories that you do, at least up till a few minutes ago.  It gives you a strange look.  “Why?  Gordon’s not going to be happy if he finds out.”<br/>
<br/>
So, it seems that while the mask stores the memories of everything you did whilst wearing it, it doesn’t give any insight into the wearers thoughts an motivations.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s not happy anyway,” you reply and the golem nods in agreement.  “And you and I both know who’s fault that is.”  Another nod.  “All I’m going to do is make life a little easier for him.”<br/>
<br/>
“By fucking him more often,” the golem asks, its face making its distaste clear.  “Is that Steve Patterson or Will Prescott talking?”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut your goddamned mouth,” you snarl in reply.  The golem instantly falls silent, taking your words as a command.  “I’m not keen on the idea either, but this way I can change the cunt for the better, a little bit at a time.  If I used a golem, Gordon might notice.”  You pace about the loft as you continue, thinking better of mentioning just what you plan to do if Gordon does notice the difference.  “So I’m going to take this one for the team.  As far as anyone knows, you’re the real Steve Patterson.  Unless the <i>real </i>Steve Patterson calls, then you’re a Will Prescott who thinks he’s Steve Patterson.  If that happens you let me know immediately.  I know you know Chelsea’s number.”  You stop and look directly at the golem.  “You got all that?”  It nods in reply.  “And yeah, you can open your mouth again.”<br/>
<br/>
“Got it Chief,” replies the golem with an insincere smirk.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t fuck with me,” you warn it, waving a finger.  “I know how you think.  <i>Exactly </i>how you think.”  The golem’s smirk vanishes as you give it one final command:  “Get going.”<br/>
<br/>
You finger the newly created mask of Chelsea as the golem gathers its clothes, turning it over in your hands.  The image of Chelsea is clearly visible in it – not quite a reflection, as there is no Chelsea nearby to cast such a thing, but somehow similar.  The little fragment of Prescott’s personality that you still feel inside you is quivering with anticipation.  The sick fucker would have been getting off on this and you try to push his personality to the back of your mind, even as you feel your cock stirring in response to his emotions.<br/>
<br/>
Better go through with this before you have any second thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
You lie down on one of the old gym mats on the floor, getting yourself comfortable before lifting the mask above your face.  The words Chelsea Courtney Cooper glow faintly on the inside as you lower.  For a brief second the glow is all you can see.  Then even it fades into darkness as the mask makes contact with your face.<br/>
<div align="center"><br/>
*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You blink in confusion a couple of times before leaping to your feet.  A red mist descends – the last thing you remember is Steve Patterson slamming something onto your face.  Oh, is he going to be unhappy once you speak to Gordon.  You never really liked him anyway, he’s a bad influence on Gordon and boy has he just given you an excuse to…<br/>
<br/>
And then you remember that you <i>are </i>Steve Patterson, or a cheap copy at least.  Chelsea’s rage vanishes as abruptly as it came upon you.  Her thoughts are little more than puppet for you to twitch this way and that as you want.  Your sneer disfigures Chelsea’s face for a few moments – you like the idea that Chelsea with have her strings pulled for a change.  Then, with a little thought, you flare your nostrils and pull your lip up a little and the sneer becomes Chelsea’s.<br/>
<br/>
Briskly, you pick up you new clothes and start putting them on.  You don’t stop to linger on the attractions of your new body.  With Chelsea’s memories at hand, you know every inch of it from the waves of golden hair on her head down to her dainty little feet.  The small part of you that is still Will Prescott howls it’s frustration, but you push it further aside.  <i>Better to focus on being Chelsea</i>, you think with a frown.  <i>It’ll make things easier</i>.<br/>
<br/>
With <i>your </i>clothes in place, you spend a few minutes using <i>your </i>new makeup mirror to make sure that everything is just so.  After all, you’re going to pay Gordon a visit and thank him personally for breaking up Seth and Cindy.  Satisfied, you snap the mirror shut and look about the loft with distaste.<br/>
<br/>
Some of the mask components are still lying around.  Aware that you are probably sinking a little too much into being Chelsea, you still act on her impulse and try to tidy them away.  As you reach the cabinet, you find yourself remembering Prescott’s cousin.  Your encounter yesterday was rudely interrupted and now that you find yourself with the right equipment to make use of her special talents, the idea seems more appealing.<br/>
<br/>
More appealing than fucking your best friend at least. <br/>
</span></div></div>


