# chapters

path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111213521512121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Parting Is Such Sweet Something
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Carmen calls you that night, inviting you dinner on Tuesday at her place. She also reports that Rebecca is excited but also a little scared of the idea of moving to California. But, she says, you seem to have established such a rapport with her that she's willing to do it. Of course, you accept the offer.<br/>
<br/>
You spend the next day on the script, but you put the pre-writing procrastination period to good use by researching Los Angeles high schools online, starting with the one serving the area where you live. It doesn't look very promising—there aren't likely to be a lot of "industry people" there—and the theater/television/film program looks only nominal. Not that it matters greatly. Once you've begun to make pediwhatsis, you will be able to place Becky most anyplace you want, at any expense. But you need to tell Carmen something for the meeting.<br/>
<br/>
It turns out she's prepared as well, having done almost the same research as you. She is very high on some of the private schools, but you tell her that it will have to be a public school, given your limited resources. Besides, you tell her, some of the high schools are just as good as the private schools for what you and she and Rebecca want.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, after some talk, you settle on Rocky Beach High School in Calabasas, between Beverly Hills and Thousand Oaks. Despite its proximity to Los Angeles, it is a small town (smaller even than Saratoga Falls), but the school has a razzle-dazzle website for its film/theater program, and you tell Carmen a story about it having a higher-than-usual proportion of film industry people living in the town. (You've no idea if that's true or not; but with Beverly Hills so close, she believes it.) It's decided that Carmen will talk to the school about withdrawing Rebecca and having her credits and records transferred to Rocky Beach; you, of course, will arrange to enroll Rebecca after she has arrived. Only after that does Carmen think to ask if you actually live in Rocky Beach. You confess that you don't, but tell her that the lease on your place will be up in a month or so, so that you can take a new apartment in Calabasas at only minimal extra expense.<br/>
<br/>
When Rebecca withdraws to her room to start her schoolwork, you and Carmen take your glasses and the bottle of wine out onto her patio. "I am so ... immensely grateful to you, Paul," she says in a voice that swells with emotion. "I never could have predicted this could have happened after I— Well." She looks down into her glass. "Those emails I sent."<br/>
<br/>
"Forget it. I wouldn't have predicted it either. It's a surprise for both of us." You also look down into your glass. "You know who's responsible for it, don't you? Rebecca. She's a ... an amazing girl." You look up to see Carmen's eyes brimming with tears. "You've done the best job with her. I only wish—" You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
Carmen sniffs, and looks away. It's a long moment before she says, "I could say something about 'wasted years', but it wouldn't be right."<br/>
<br/>
"None of your years were wasted," you protest. "Not with her."<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't talking about her. Or me. Or you." She touches your arm. "I'm sure your years weren't wasted, and I'd never say it. I mean the years I spent ... <i>resenting</i> you."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean 'hating', don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I don't think I ever hated you. I was angry, I was bitter, I wondered if— But I knew it wasn't your fault. You were just a boy, I was the adult, and I— I shouldn't—"<br/>
<br/>
"You got Rebecca from it."<br/>
<br/>
"I know!" She breaks down completely and collapses against you. You cradle her head in your chest as she shudders and sobs. "But it's the years of wasted ... barren ... meaningless ... <i>resentment!</i> That's what I regret."<br/>
<br/>
"You had good reason."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Paul." She embraces you tightly. "Is there a word to describe it? Receiving a great gift and <i>hating</i> it because you don't understand it, you don't recognize it for the bounty that it is?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. The Germans probably have a word for it. Or the Eskimos."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean it. Eighteen years of misery I've done to myself, letting my own resentments <i>poison</i> what I had. And only now, when— When it's <i>ending!</i> When my ... baby ... is leaving me, do I realize what I'd had all along."<br/>
<br/>
It would all be very affecting, you feel, if it wasn't so obvious that she is playing a scene. To be sure, she is drawing on situations and emotions that are real and perfectly accurate. But she still can't resist <i>playing it</i> instead of living it. Her little speeches are too on point to be real.<br/>
<br/>
You pull her more tightly to yourself, because of course you're playing the scene with her, and she's just cued you for your next line.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not losing anything," you tell her. "You're <i>giving.</i> Giving Rebecca her life. As for being late to the party—" You stroke the back of her head. "You'll remember those years. You were always going to remember them. But they'll be sweeter now than they would have been."<br/>
<br/>
You hold her to your chest for what seems a very long time. Eventually you feel her shifting in your arms, and you look down to see that she's lifted her face and is gazing into yours.<br/>
<br/>
A chill runs through you. She is trying to look ... seductive.<br/>
<br/>
Not a good look on a woman crossing the fifty-year mark, and looking every day her age.<br/>
<br/>
It's a foolish look, too. As though the sixteen years of self-hurt could be plucked out clean and the wound cauterized by repeating the act that set it all off in the first place.<br/>
<br/>
"Paul?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm?"<br/>
<br/>
"What about us?" she whispers.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I may vomit,</i> you think, remembering one of the insults from the play that Westside is putting on this Saturday.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, you touch her nose and with soft regret reply, "We'll always have Paris."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have to spend the rest of the week and the weekend after in Saratoga Falls, as Rebecca and her mother start to put her affairs in order. You don't see the girl at all during this time, except briefly at her house when you stop by to visit in the evenings, but you do exchange texts during the day as she keeps you informed of relations between her and Carmen. (The woman, as you would have bet every dollar in residuals you have coming to you, is heaving with emotions, and Sydney asks you once if you can <i>please</i> put a mask on her to shut her the hell up, and then asks if you can <i>please</i> murder her and drop her body somewhere in the Nevada deserts on your way back to California. (You answer each request with a crisp <i>No.</i>)<br/>
<br/>
Then there's Saturday night. Carmen has it in mind that Rebecca wants to see the school play, and you attend too. It's not bad as such things go, though Charles Hartlein (in your opinion) would have been better cast as the effete and bitchy Beverley Carlton, as he lacks the booming personality that the title character requires. Afterward you hang out backstage with the cast and crew and their families, congratulating and twinkling at them like a well-mannered celebrity. You give autographs too, and only one of them—the beefy football player who staggered through the role of Bert Jefferson like a whole lumber room of wood—do you condescend to call "champ."<br/>
<br/>
On Sunday you have another brunch at Le Metropolitain, though this time Carmen joins you and pays. She seems to have worked through her emotions, for her company is pleasant, restrained, and relaxed. After that you drive out to Lake Covington, despite the cooling October weather, to stroll the banks and chat. There is no repeat of the mortifying scene on her patio the previous Tuesday night.<br/>
<br/>
And then, bright and early Monday morning, after having said goodbye to your parents, you drive out to Carmen's to pick up Rebecca. You load her suitcases into the back, and there are some teary farewells from mother to daughter, and more restrained ones from daughter to mother. You embrace Carmen and give her an affectionate kiss on the temple. She stands in the driveway and watches until you turn the corner and can no longer see her in the rearview mirror.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God, Will!" Becky moans, and her head lolls with exhaustion. "Can I take this fucking mask off yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you like being Rebecca Oliver?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing wrong with Rebecca Oliver. But oh, the <i>drama</i> I've been through!"<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to Hollywood, Sydney. What do you think we'll find there?"<br/>
<br/>
She scrunches her nose at you. "And don't think I haven't noticed how goddamned <i>grown up</i> you've been all this time!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, between you, me, and Carmen, someone had to be the adult."<br/>
<br/>
"That's all good for you!" She tucks one arm into yours, and rubs your thigh. "But I miss the dumb blonde kid I fell in love with."<br/>
<br/>
You jerk in surprise. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"You heard me. You've been acting too much like this ... <i>actor!</i> Same way I've been having to act too much like Miss Moonfaced Drama Princess! Oh, Will!" You're still in town, on a busy thoroughfare, but she tears off her blouse, exposing her bra. "Kiss my titties! Promise me that when we get out of town—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Sydney!"</i><br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna kiss my titties, Will, at some point, I swear to you! You're gonna kiss my titties and then you're gonna fuck me, as yourself and not as—!"<br/>
<br/>
She growls.<br/>
<br/>
"And <i>then</i> you'll put the mask back on and be my daddy. The way you were with my mommy!"<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111
author_id: seuzz
title: Behind the Curtain
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You manage to talk Sydney into putting her top back on, and she keeps it on even after you've gotten on the highway and are heading west. She cleans up her act, too, so that after awhile you decide that she was just venting after finally getting away from the clinging and hyper-dramatic Carmen Oliver.<br/>
<br/>
You've a long drive in front of you, and not a lot of ways to pass the time. You play various games—competing to spot various makes and models and colors of cars; I Spy; Road Scrabble (which Sydney has to teach you; in consists of scoring points for finding words in road signs with rare letters in them)—and Sydney, when she is tired of talking, gets onto her cell phone and watches videos or scrolls around social media.<br/>
<br/>
But in between times she asks you about Paul Griffin, the industry he works in, and what she can expect.<br/>
<br/>
You start by giving her the PG version of his life, and even after she pesters you for details on some of what he got up to, you play down the facts. "Oh, no orgies," you insist. "Not really. Just parties where you'd wind up in a room with someone, then later you might go off in a room with someone else." Of the games you played on the set of <i>Enchanted U,</i> you only remark that every woman there slept with at least one of the cast members, and vice versa.<br/>
<br/>
She reads through Paul's IMDb page, and asks for stories about each thing he was in. Though it seems to annoy Sydney (or maybe because it annoys her), you answer in your assumed persona.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Children of the Dark 4</i>? "That was my first movie, straight to video, but still— God, that made me so happy. I mean, not that I had a speaking role, but I on set for two weeks, and I got made up for one shot with a dangling eyeball hanging onto my cheek. Mostly I remember how we got up touch football games while waiting to shoot ..."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sliver Man</i>? "I only had one real scene. I was the older brother, and I had to bounce a basketball off the lead kid's head. Randy? Was that the kid's name? Anyway, I kept holding back, 'cos I didn't wanna hurt him, and we had to keep redoing the shot. The director got really annoyed at me, until he came in, showed me what to do, and wound up sending the kid to the infirmary. We lost the whole rest of the day, and even after I did it right, it got cut from the movie. I think there might be a scene of me at the dinner table, but mostly I was just another piece of furniture."<br/>
<br/>
<i>When Love Came Along</i>? "I don't even remember that one. What was my part? Oh. Well, that explains it. 'Customer number three' isn't exactly Othello."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Roomies and Roofies</i>? "Pff! Peter Switzer—he was the lead actor in the series, and he— Well, the plot of the episode was that he signed up for a blind date, and I was the one on the porch when he opened the door. Ooo! Funny! Dude accidentally signs up for a date with a gay guy! He hated the script because, you know, and he kept accusing me of upstaging him, because I was actually trying to play the scene, trying to make it real, make it funny, instead of the stupid, goofy shit it— But he was just terrified he'd pick up the gay taint or whatever. The whole thing wasn't funny or good, and the shoot was miserable and he took it out on me."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Move Along, Lover</i>? "That's the one I thought was going to be my breakout. It was, kind of. That was the first time I ever really got noticed noticed, even though I was just the leading support. The script was boring, but Ken Gray was great, we used to play poker between set-ups."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Christmas by Candlelight</i>? "Oh, fuck me. I read for the lead on that one, and I thought I had it. I <i>did</i> have it, I heard it unofficially! But Fiona Hennessy—that bitch—she didn't want me, said she didn't feel the chemistry with me, and she was married to the producer, so ... Well, so I got to play the paraplegic brother instead of the romantic lead. And to top it off, she wound up having an affair with Hudson Cox. Though I heard they were carrying on even before she got him picked to replace me ..."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ws and Ls</i>? "Ha! Thirteen episodes, and I think I was on screen a total of maybe twenty minutes? But that was a good part for me, 'cos I played the P. E. coach and there was a P. E. scene in every script because Mark McCray looked good in shorts. But it's where I met Valerie Dunn. She was the casting director and when she got hired on <i>Enchanted U,</i> she remembered me."<br/>
<br/>
And <i>Enchanted U</i>? You take a deep breath and burn up almost half a mile of highway before answering.<br/>
<br/>
"Three seasons, fifty-seven episodes. My name isn't above the title, but it's the second one you see after the title goes by. I'm in every episode except two, and in every episode I have at least three scenes and I'm getting at least ten minutes of screen time per episode, even if I'm just standing behind Adrian Marcus Murray, looking like I'm trying to pass a kidney stone. Good scripts, reasonable production values— What was that snort for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Good scripts."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a snob. And for what it was, yeah, they were good! And remember, I was coming off <i>Ws and Ls,</i> where the lead character's catch-phrase was 'Bop till you drop!' Anyway, I'm on primetime TV once a week, even if it is on the CW, my face is out there, I'm making enough money to buy this car and live in a really nice apartment complex, I've got a business manager and an agent and I'm signed up with the same PR firm that handles John Malkovich, <i>and</i>—"<br/>
<br/>
You draw a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
"During hiatus I'm jetting to cons and fan meet-ups across the country. Some of these things are tiny, I mean, we're talking the smallest ballroom at the Hilton, and there's <i>still</i> empty chairs 'cos only twenty-five girls and seven guys have turned out, but they're <i>hanging</i> on us, me and Scott Cotter and Eric Forman and Ricky Valladares—and Adrian, back before his head got too big and he decided to save himself for San Diego. But we get each other's timing, we work up routines, we do games with the fans, get them up on stage with us and do dumb quizzes and stunts. It's <i>show business</i>, you know, and if you got it in your blood— Well, you get a buzz anytime you're in front of any kind of audience, and you're <i>talking</i> to them, as yourself or as a character, and you <i>miss</i> that when you're on a soundstage and the only people paying attention are the lighting guys and the sound guys, and they're not even paying attention to you, they're watching their equipment. But what I'm saying is, it was fun even when it was exhausting, and when all you're doing is waiting around behind the camera or standing in front of the camera looking cramped while someone else gets to do the lines, at least my face was out where people could see it and I had <i>fans</i> and money and ..." You trail off.<br/>
<br/>
"And what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"The show got cancelled. And by then I was 'Simon Magus' and the only TV show or movie work that 'Simon Magus' could get was in a show called <i>Enchanted U,</i> and they weren't making that anymore. I was like a plow horse that got retired when the farmer bought a tractor."<br/>
<br/>
"Why'd they cancel it? I heard people talking about it all the time back in Kansas."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Kansas isn't Korea and it isn't Germany, either."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's complicated. Basically, they weren't making money off the domestic broadcasts because it was on the CW, right? And there wasn't enough foreign interest in the series, so they couldn't make it up with international licensing." You peer at her. "Did <i>I</i> have fans in Kansas?"<br/>
<br/>
She starts to answer, then gives you a look. "No one in Kansas ever heard of you, <i>Will."</i><br/>
<br/>
She means it as a mordant but friendly put-down, a reminder of who you really are. But after immersing yourself so deeply in Paul Griffin's psychology while reliving it for Sydney, it stings something fierce to be reminded what a nobody you are even when compared to the nobody that Paul Griffin basically was.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After thirteen hours of driving, with only a handful of breaks to gas up, get food, and potty, you decide you're not going to make it to the next big city and stop in a little town called Loganville for the night. You pass on the Bar-x Motel because Sydney (who seems to be slipping back into her Rebecca persona) says it looks "Barx" which sounds like "Barks" which would make it a dog. You also pass on a place called the Wamsley Inn. But the Palomino, though it has a "vintage" look, seems clean and, and that's where you fetch up. The man behind the desk wears a seed cap, and his arms look they've been upholstered in leather, but he's pleasant. The room comes with two queen-size beds (for you've registered as father and daughter) and furniture of polished walnut. The air is musty, but there's no stink.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney changes to a nightie, and you strip to undershirt and boxers. She has said nothing else about the mask you're wearing, and you've put out the light and slipped between the sheets when she says, "Will, did you forget what I told you this morning?"<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352151212111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Daddy-Daughter Time
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hadn't forgotten what Sydney said this morning as you were leaving Saratoga Falls: that she wanted you out of the mask and inside her. But she'd said nothing more about on the thirteen-hour drive, so even after checking into the motel—as father and daughter, naturally—you had assumed that she changed her mind.<br/>
<br/>
But apparently she hasn't.<br/>
<br/>
You sit up. The room is dark, but you can just make her out in the other bed. "Are you serious?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Will," she says. "Can you stop being that narcissistic jackass and start thinking about <i>me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Narcissistic jackass,</i> you think. <i>Boy, she got my number in a hurry. And I thought we bonded, father and daughter.</i> But you also grin a little to yourself. It's nice to be wanted for yourself and not for who you are pretending to be, even if he is a hunky TV actor.<br/>
<br/>
But you also can't help hesitating. You've kissed Sydney, but only in a puppy-dog kind of way. Now she wants to go further, she wants to go all the way. Paul could take her without a second thought, but you are a lot more nervous as you imagine yourself divested of his experience and confidence.<br/>
<br/>
But she's waiting. "Hang on," you mumble. "Be with you in a minute." You drop your head back onto the pillow, lay your hand over your brow to grasp your temples between forefinger and thumb, and pull while muttering a mystical incantation under your breath.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're woken by something soft but hefty bouncing off your face, and sit up with a snort. "Whuh—?"<br/>
<br/>
"About time, Will," a voice says from the dark. "I was about to come over there and get serious with you."<br/>
<br/>
Your hand touches something cold and hard on the coverlet as you sit up, and you flinch. But it's just the mask. "What's wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I think you fell asleep on me."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it knocks you out, you know, when you put those things on or take them off."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, but you were out for, like, twenty minutes. I got tired of waiting so I threw a pillow at you."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, gimme a minute." With a sigh you lever yourself from the bed and stumble for the bathroom, where you flip on the light and splash some water on your face. Yyou look up from under your brows at your reflection.<br/>
<br/>
The face in the mirror startles you, and at first you wonder "Who's that stranger?" for you've been inside Paul Griffin's mask so long, and gotten so used to seeing his reflection in the mirror, that the face of Will Prescott is a shock. Not the most pleasant shock, either. Your expression naturally tends to curdle into a rabbity wince; your hair is a stiff like straw; and your body is lanky and loose-limbed. Paul's body, by contrast, is well-groomed and muscled, and his resting expression is one of radiant self-possession. You can't help flinching a little.<br/>
<br/>
But then a little half-smile twitches onto your face. <i>Except Sydney wants me, not him,</i> you think. <i>I got in a fight with him using magic, the real stuff not that bullshit on that TV show he was on, and I won, and now I can pull him on and wear him like a body stocking whenever I want, then peel him off and hang him up.</i><br/>
<br/>
You see and feel yourself straightening, standing taller. Your expression is still a juvenile jeer, and Paul's white t-shirt hangs limply off your shoulders, but there's a cocky jaunt in your walk as you put out the bathroom light and strut back to where Sydney is waiting.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She is still wearing Becky Oliver's mask, but you don't query that. You peel off the shirt and boxers, and she throws back the coverlets to let you in. She groans softly as you lay next to her, your faces close, and your hand cupping a breast. You lean in and kiss her, deeply and softly. It feels very natural and instinctive as you caress and bite at her. Every muscle and limb—and other things—stiffen and stretch and unfurl with anticipation.<br/>
<br/>
Your push her gown up, and your fingers twitch down the front of her panties to dig into the wiry hair, to caress the flesh within and beneath. It surprises you a little how easy it is for you to do this. <i>Maybe I've still got some of Paul's memories,</i> you idly wonder, and snatches of memories with other women do come back, to mingle with the present experience. But they fracture and dissolve as Sydney lifts her hips and pulls her panties down. "Get them off me," she gasps in your ear. "Get it—! Get inside me!"<br/>
<br/>
You scrunch down under the covers and help her push her panties below her knees. She wriggles and kicks them off. You get between her legs and your swelling cock brushes up and over her bush. With one free hand—her other hand is gripping you by the back of your neck—she grabs it and guides it in. She is velvety and wet and hot but very, very tight, and you gasp and choke—and feel yourself pulling a very comical face—as you find yourself getting impossibly long and impossibly big inside her. It's like your cock is trying to burst through the skin, and your hips tremble violently. Sydney is squeaking, and she grabs one of your butt cheeks and squeals as she thrusts upward to pull you in.<br/>
<br/>
Then she rises and clamps her mouth over the side of your neck, and the force of her muffled scream ripples through you. There's a hanging moment when you almost pass out.<br/>
<br/>
Then you are pounding her into the mattress.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You cuddle with each other, aching with exhaustion, she cradling your balls and you resting a gentle hand on her bush. A grayish light pervades the room—morning is coming. By it you study her face. Becky's face round and soft, the face of a contented child. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is deep and regular, but she sighs softly as you push back a strand of the dark hair that trails down and over her cheek. You kiss her on the nose with dry lips, and she says "Mmm!" and squirms up closer to you.<br/>
<br/>
It was quite a night. You fucked hard, and fell back exhausted, then came awake with a start when the phone on the bedside table chimed softly. You worked yourself up again to another climax, and fell away again, to be roused by that same, gently insistent chime. (The third time it happened, Sydney confessed that she'd set a timer. She pouted a little when you made her turn it off, saying that you'd need to get some sleep at some point.) You went down on her when you were too sore to get it up again, and she went down on you, though you don't remember coming and have the vague impression you must have dozed off. Once she got up to refresh herself in the bathroom, and then you moved into the other bed because her bed had got too hot and messy.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, you needed to make it look like both beds had been slept in.<br/>
<br/>
You look at the clock now and decide that you really should think about getting up: either you make Vegas tonight, or you're going to get stuck someplace really shitty. Becky doesn't argue when you crawl out of bed and pad into the bathroom with your kit.<br/>
<br/>
You shower and soap and shampoo and shave, and the water refreshes and rejuvenates you. You dry yourself, and wrap one of the small, rough bath towels around your waist, and return to the room. Your clothes are folded and resting on the low-slung cabinet that the TV is sitting on, and you quickly get into them, studying with a professional's interest your face and features in the mirror that hangs on the wall opposite the beds.<br/>
<br/>
You are raking a sturdy comb through your hair when Becky sits up in bed with a contented sigh. "Good morning, Daddy," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You look at her in the mirror, past your ear—Paul Griffin's ear, for you spent half the night inside his mask, even as you fucked his daughter—and smirk at her. "Morning, sweetheart," you say.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next day is the same as the first: boring road games and light talk to burn up the miles. You arrive in Las Vegas at a little after six, and have dinner at a Chile's. Becky, naturally, wants to see one of the casinos, and you take her to the MGM Grand, which is the one Paul usually visits—two of the fan-cons he attended were held there.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you're a little surprised to hear your name shouted while you're standing on the floor with a handful of chips, deciding which table to play. You look over and are astonished to see Alison Knox, one of your co-stars from <i>Enchanted U,</i> waving at you. With a gushing smile she comes over to hug and greet you.<br/>
<br/>
It takes only a few minutes to catch up, for all the news is on your end as you introduce your daughter, which surprises and delights her. For yourself, you know perfectly well that she's landed a new TV gig, as one of the "bad girls" on a new CW primetime soap.<br/>
<br/>
More intriguing, though, is the hungry expression you read in her face as she talks to you. <i>My God,</i> you think, <i>she wants me. Even with my daughter standing right here.</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, you are looking for new disguises. She could be the next.<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111213521512121111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Home Sweet Hollywood
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Alison Knox is a healthy piece of girl—a rarity on television, where actresses are too often too skinny. But Alison has hips, thighs, cleavage, and cascading platinum-blonde hair that falls in shallow waves past her shoulders. And though she is wearing neon-pink gloss, tons of bronzer, and heavy eyeliner, it has the effect of enhancing her sweetly feminine features rather than fuzzing them with a lot of glop. She is dressed in Levis, a peach-colored men's shirt, vest, and cowboy hat with an iridescent feather at the top. As you look her down and then up again, you see she's wearing cowboy boots.<br/>
<br/>
With a laugh, you ask if she's dressed for the rodeo.<br/>
<br/>
"Going incognito," she tells you. "It works, you walked right past me without even looking."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I saw you," you tell her. "But I'm here with my daughter, so—" You cast a quick sidelong glance at Becky who, po-faced, is loitering nearby.<br/>
<br/>
A faint smile comes to Alison's mouth, and through frozen lips she says, very quietly, "Yeah, what's up with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Wanna get a drink? We can't go in a bar on account of Becky—"<br/>
<br/>
Alison shrugs, and together the three of you leave the casino floor for one of the restaurants.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It was a pleasant twenty minutes you spent with Alison, even with Becky glowering moodily in the corner. That was for the best, though. You told Alison about your trip back home, and the daughter you found and are taking back to Los Angeles to show around. Alison pretends to be sweetly interested, but you can tell by her expression that she hasn't ruled out—maybe has even embraced—the suspicion that Becky is a really girl you picked up. There is a slight strain between you when you see her off.<br/>
<br/>
After that, there's nothing to do but go back to the room, so you don't even get to do any gambling.<br/>
<br/>
"So why didn't you go back to her room and fuck her?" Becky demands when you're alone again. There's a sour, moody expression on her face. It makes her look too much like her mother.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought about it," you tell her as you slip off your jacket. "Are you mad I didn't?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. It's your business, <i>Daddy</i>, who you sleep with—"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you might be mad. I thought maybe you wanted to <i>be</i> her. It would'a <i>been</i> you, if I fucked her. In a mask."<br/>
<br/>
Becky looks startled. "Her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you recognize her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Should I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus. I thought you said you watched the show. That was Wysteria Beddoes."<br/>
<br/>
She boggles. "That was—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, she wasn't wearing that much makeup. Maybe the cowboy outfit threw you."<br/>
<br/>
Becky sinks onto the edge of the bed. "I thought she was just some— And you could'a got a mask of her?"<br/>
<br/>
"If we wanted it. You're right, she wanted me." You sit on the edge of the bed opposite, your knees almost touching. "I mean, it's too late now. But—"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you do it with her? I mean, did Paul—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah. Only at cons. She was seeing a guy at the time. But we had three cons together, in Boston, Cincinnati and ... Dallas? I think it was Dallas. Every one, we shared a bed. I mean, we each had a room, but hers or mine went unused—"<br/>
<br/>
"Is there <i>anyone</i> you didn't fuck? That Paul didn't fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"One or two." You lean forward to force her knees apart, then dive across to push her onto her back. You give her a slow, deep kiss. "Sometimes I had lines to learn and that got in the way," you explain after breaking off.<br/>
<br/>
She twines her hands behind your head. "Oh, Daddy," she pouts. "You're <i>awful.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The shortest leg of the trip is the next day, from Vegas to Los Angeles, but it's still a five-hour drive, even making a mostly straight shot of it, and it's mid-afternoon when you pull into the Academy Gardens in Studio City. It's a small, exclusive complex done up in faux-Spanish colonial style, with red tile roofs and adobe-colored walls. Short, fat Arecaceae palms line the walks. It's warm out—temperatures are in the eighties, despite it being mid-October—as you carry Becky's luggage into your apartment. It is, of course, stuffy and unventilated when you go in.<br/>
<br/>
It's not a big apartment either, despite the several thousands a month it costs to rent—less than a thousand square feet. But the kitchen, dining nook, and living room are large and they open out onto each other, so that it has the airy feel of a house when you step inside. Only when you step down a stubby hall and find that the single bedroom and bathroom are the only other rooms in the place are you likely to feel a tad claustrophobic.<br/>
<br/>
"Where do I sleep?" Becky asks when you drop her suitcases on the cream-white, king-sized bedspread.<br/>
<br/>
"Where do you think you're going to sleep?" you ask, and pat her on the bum.<br/>
<br/>
"What are the neighbors going to think?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll tell them I'm sleeping on the sofa until we can move into a two-bedroom unit."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought we were moving to Sonora or wherever. The place with the high school that Carmen was so hot for." The skeptical expression on her face is closer to one that Sydney would wear.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on." You take her onto the back deck, a thing the size of a postage stamp, with an iron railing that separates it from the narrow grounds on the other side. You point over the top of the surrounding hedge to a black, glass-and-aluminum skyscraper that rises like a monolith a couple of miles away.<br/>
<br/>
"That's Universal City," you tell her. "And over there"—you point in another direction—"on the other side of the one-oh-one where you can't see it, is Warner Bros. and Disney." You swing your finger around the points of the compass. "CBS. Paramount. Sony. We're right in the middle of them. <br/>
<br/>
"But Calabasas—" You wind up and pitch an invisible fast ball far to the west. "—is way out there. Here is where I work. Where Paul works. Where he used to work, and where he can get work again if—" You suck in your upper lip and peer down at her. "If we make him some friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. I see. And what kind of friends—?"<br/>
<br/>
You pull her back inside and push her onto the sofa, then drop down next to her. You drape a fatherly arm around her shoulders and rub her knee.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I've been thinking about that," you tell her. "Did I mention Valerie Dunn to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. I kind of tuned you out after awhile, to be honest. You aren't as fascinating, <i>Daddy</i>, as you think you are."<br/>
<br/>
"You"—you tweak her nose—"are a little witch. But Valerie's a casting director, she's the one who got me cast—got Paul cast—on <i>Enchanted U.</i> If we grab her, we get our pick of a lot of talent in town."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm. What about agents?"<br/>
<br/>
"Agents could get us access to people," you agree, "but they're not decision-makers. And neither is Valerie, to be truthful about it."<br/>
<br/>
"They could get us to decision-makers, couldn't they?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Or we could go for some of the decision-makers directly. George Babakhanian, for instance. He was the producer on <i>Enchanted U,</i> and he's not going anywhere, not with the kind of production deal like he's got with Warners. Alison, back in Vegas? She's supposed to start work on a new nighttime soap he's doing for them. If Valerie can't get me a job, he could. And like her, he's got access to all sorts of people, and not just talent."<br/>
<br/>
"That sounds good."<br/>
<br/>
"Except I never really clicked with him, and it might be hard to get him alone. I still talk to Bryce Philips, though. He does sitcoms for the Disney Channel, did <i>Ws and Ls</i> for them. I doubt I could get George on the phone, but Bryce would be pretty easy to get to."<br/>
<br/>
You mention a few more producers, but caution that that they probably would be as hard to reach as Babakhanian while ranking about as low as Philips on the Hollywood Power scale. <br/>
<br/>
You talk some more, then leave Sydney to unpack while you run a few blocks over to pick up some fast food for dinner, for you are both starving. Over burgers and onion rings you discuss the possibilities further. Sydney agrees with much of what you say, but she is also strongly pulled toward high school. "Becky has to enroll in one anyway," she says. "If Paul's money holds out long enough, and there's some kids in the school that could get us to some really powerful people, maybe we should try that."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She gives you a blow job after you go to bed, and that relaxes you into a deep sleep. When you get up, you find that she moved onto the sofa during the night, which makes you feel guilty. While she's still asleep, you change into workout clothes and hit the complex's gym. She's up and has fixed a breakfast for the both of you when you get back an hour later, which you scarf down before getting a shower. She joins you under the water for a lot of hot, sudsy kissing; but though you get your cock into her, Paul was never very good at doing it standing up, so that it comes to nothing in the end.<br/>
<br/>
Then after you've dressed and picked up the place—for Paul is more than a bit of a neat-nik—you settle back on the sofa to go over the possibilities again, with more attention paid to your agent, Savannah Getty, after you show Sydney her picture.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually you settle on:<span class="O"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111121
author_id: seuzz
id: TBSPL4Q2X
title: Valerie Dunn
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311594-BoM-Poll-Home-Sweet-Hollywood" target="_top" title="Pick a path for the story!">BoM Poll: Home Sweet Hollywood</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311594-BoM-Poll-Home-Sweet-Hollywood" target="_blank" title="Pick a path for the story!"><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/>
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path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111122
author_id: seuzz
id: DT339PXYP
title: Savannah Getty
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<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311594-BoM-Poll-Home-Sweet-Hollywood" target="_top" title="Pick a path for the story!">BoM Poll: Home Sweet Hollywood</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311594-BoM-Poll-Home-Sweet-Hollywood" target="_blank" title="Pick a path for the story!"><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/>
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path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111123
author_id: seuzz
id: N7C7LTLB2
title: George Babakhanian
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<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311594-BoM-Poll-Home-Sweet-Hollywood" target="_top" title="Pick a path for the story!">BoM Poll: Home Sweet Hollywood</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311594-BoM-Poll-Home-Sweet-Hollywood" target="_blank" title="Pick a path for the story!"><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/>
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path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111124
author_id: seuzz
id: FQLQ54F95
title: Bryce Philips
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<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311594-BoM-Poll-Home-Sweet-Hollywood" target="_top" title="Pick a path for the story!">BoM Poll: Home Sweet Hollywood</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311594-BoM-Poll-Home-Sweet-Hollywood" target="_blank" title="Pick a path for the story!"><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/>
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path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111125
author_id: seuzz
id: WHXMG8QGL
title: Back to School
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You and Sydney talk through the late morning and into the early afternoon. Decisions are made and then withdrawn. You feel the strain and so does Sydney (you can tell), because this first choice will likely determine everything that comes afterward.<br/>
<br/>
It seems like you are about settled on Paul's friend Valerie Dunn when Sydney leaps off the sofa and stalks into the bathroom. She comes out wearing a frown and, ignoring you, goes out the front door. You wait a moment before following.<br/>
<br/>
From the stoop you watch as she strides down the sidewalk that faces the apartment building until she comes to the corner, where she pauses before turning around. She comes all the way back, and with only a pinched glance in your direction she passes to march off the other way, where again she pauses at the corner of the building. Plainly, she is preoccupied with her thoughts, so you go back inside to give her some privacy, and fix a couple of sandwiches for you and her for lunch.<br/>
<br/>
You are slowly munching your way through yours when she comes back in, still wearing a preoccupied frown, and flops onto the sofa. You suck the bread from your teeth, swallow, then silently go into the kitchen to get her plate, which you set on the sofa beside her. She ignores it.<br/>
<br/>
"What are we doing this for, Will?" she asks with sudden force. "Taking over these identities? Ten of them."<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me," is your diplomatic reply.<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look.<br/>
<br/>
"Suppose we go with Valerie Dunn, or with Paul's agent or his producer friend," she says. "Who comes after that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoever seems good."<br/>
<br/>
"But who's that going to be? Are any of these people married?"<br/>
<br/>
You think a moment. "Bryce is. I think Valerie is seeing someone. I don't know about—"<br/>
<br/>
"So do we make masks of their partners? And who else do we make masks of? What I mean is," she says before you can express your bafflement at these questions, "if we make up a whole bunch of masks, are the ... <i>pedisequoi,</i> or whatever you call them, are they going to be able to ... hang out with each other? Socialize? See each other often without it seeming weird?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "I guess it depends on who we pick."<br/>
<br/>
"Because we're making a Brotherhood of Baphomet, Will, and they're gonna have to see each other regularly. If we," she continues with sudden heat, "replace your friend Bryce, and he replaces some of the, I don't know, the actors in his shows, is he going to be able to, like, have them over to his house, or go over to theirs?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess we'll have to pick people who can do that."<br/>
<br/>
She frowns. "I'm just thinking that the kind of people we're talking about, they're not going to be able to see each that much." She looks up at you, her gaze intent. "That we won't see as much of each other as we want."<br/>
<br/>
You can't but be flattered, because it sounds like she's worried about being separated from you. "We can make it work," you assure her.<br/>
<br/>
"You're putting me—Becky—in a high school," she blurts out. "What if we use some of the kids there instead of these other people?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The suggestion bowls you over. If you're just going to infiltrate a high school, what was the point of leaving Saratoga Falls, where you were already in a high school? You put the question to Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
"Saratoga Falls is not Los Angeles, Will," she says with some asperity. "And your friends out there weren't— Well, I'm pretty sure they're not the same as the people we'd get out here. That high school you sold Carmen on," she continues, "the kids who go out there are going to have connections, right? I mean, their parents will." You admit this is true. "So that right there is a better reason to be out here than back in—"<br/>
<br/>
"So why don't we go straight for the parents?" you counter. "We know— Through Paul we can get to people that we <i>know</i> are—"<br/>
<br/>
"Do any of those people we were talking about have kids? Who can hang out for most of the day in school together? That's why we should start with the kids," she says when you don't answer. "Start with the kids, then grab the parents if it seems like a good idea."<br/>
<br/>
You don't talk much more about it. Sydney seems very set on the idea, and you can't come up with any good reasons not do do as she suggests. So you accede to her suggestion, and further accede when she insists on herself in the high school you pitched to Carmen. "It's going to have a better class of student than downtown Los Angeles, right?" she points out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Fortunately, Rocky Beach High School in Calabasas makes it easy to enroll new students through their website, though you will have to take Becky in for a short interview in the morning. Having won all her points, Sydney is very affectionate, and she lets you take her before dinner and again in the evening before going to bed. You bring her to hard climaxes each time (so that you have to muffle her screams) but it's a strain for you, for you can't stop thinking of the expense of moving. For although Calabasas is a small enclave, it is going to be expensive.<br/>
<br/>
You are up <i>very</i> early the next morning—it is still dark—and have to force Sydney awake; she showers and gets ready while you prepare breakfast. Then, with the sun still below the eastern hills, you make the long, twisty drive out to Calabasas, and to Rocky Beach High School.<br/>
<br/>
It's a nice looking school, built in the California Mission style, with white-washed walls and low, sloping roofs of red tile, fronted by arched colonnades. If it wasn't actually built a hundred years ago, it was built to look like it was built a century ago. It makes your heart sink even further, because it looks like the kind of school associated with money.<br/>
<br/>
The administrative offices are already open, and a smiling official is expecting you. He introduces himself as Eric Lance, and he is exactly what you would expect of a California educrat: youngish, smiling, efficient, and just a little wormy, like a larva newly hatched from an education program.<br/>
<br/>
His main point of concern, it turns out, is the address you provided in Los Angeles, but you explain that you are in the process of moving to Calabasas, and give a little background on Becky and how she has moved out to join you from back east. That assuages him, and he looks almost relieved as he prints out the forms for you to sign. After handing over booklets dealing with honor codes and other whatnot, he sends Becky down the hall to the guidance counsellors' offices, so she can sign up for her classes. Alone, with you, he talks a little more about you and your circumstances—plainly trying to confirm to his own satisfaction that you are in fact intending to make the move to Calabasas—but you content yourself with telling him that you are a professional actor. If he recognizes your name or face, he gives no indication. After that, he gives you a short tour of the facilities, then leaves you to wait in the outer offices for Becky to come out.<br/>
<br/>
She looks a little freaked when you see her again, and when you ask her why, she says, "It's my first day in a new school." Is Sydney serious? You suppose she might be. You give her a reassuring peck on the forehead and tell her to have fun and to start making friends. She gives you a look as she totters off to make her own tour of the school.<br/>
<br/>
You brought your laptop, so you camp out at an IHOP for the day, trawling through real estate listings and searing your eyeballs with the prices. It's going to be tough to pay for even a rental unit unless you get a good part again in something steady, and somehow it is not much of a consolation to think that soon Paul's problems will not be yours, as you will have moved on to a new identity. For you've played his part long enough now that you suspect you will continue to empathize with him, or his <i>pedisequos.</i><br/>
<br/>
And who are you going to be? Sydney already has four candidates when you pick her up later that afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It wasn't the worst day ever, she tells you on the drive home, and the more she talks, the more apparent it is that she's greatly exaggerating the horrors. At worst, it was tolerable, and at least three people went out of their way to try making friends with her.<br/>
<br/>
The first, she says, was a girl named Hailey in her American Literature class. She describes her as slim and blonde and very pretty, with a soft voice and a very intimate manner. "She made me feel like she was letting me into a conspiracy, just talking to her," Sydney reports.<br/>
<br/>
The second was the Korean TA in her Intro to Drama class, a boy named Parker. He was very cheerful and helpful, and she is pretty sure that he asked her out on a date without actually putting it that way. But she isn't sure, because she saw him being "affectionate" with a cute Korean girl in a cheerleader uniform. "But maybe they were all just friends," she says, "because there were a bunch of them with her. Koreans, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
Then there was a kid named Adam who definitely hit on her in math class. There didn't seem to be anything very special about him, but she says that if you want to get into the high school fast, he'd probably be the easiest to lure into a trap, since he seems very eager to get together alone with Becky.<br/>
<br/>
The only path that would be easier, she suggests, is the drama teacher, Ms. Johns, who is in her early thirties. You, being an actor, could easily approach her for a private conference; and if you became a teacher you'd have a wider and deeper view of the school for making later choices.<br/>
<br/>
But these are all just first day impressions. Maybe you should wait.<span class="jehfmgfjk248"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352151212111111251
author_id: seuzz
id: WDJZ6YVPB
title: Hailey
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311864-BoM-Poll-Back-to-School" target="_top" title="Pick a path for the story">BoM Poll: Back to School</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311864-BoM-Poll-Back-to-School" target="_blank" title="Pick a path for the story"><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/>
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path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352151212111111252
author_id: seuzz
id: QY6KNVQXF
title: Parker
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311864-BoM-Poll-Back-to-School" target="_top" title="Pick a path for the story">BoM Poll: Back to School</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311864-BoM-Poll-Back-to-School" target="_blank" title="Pick a path for the story"><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/>
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path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352151212111111253
author_id: seuzz
id: UFVCZFNKW
title: Adam
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<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311864-BoM-Poll-Back-to-School" target="_top" title="Pick a path for the story">BoM Poll: Back to School</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311864-BoM-Poll-Back-to-School" target="_blank" title="Pick a path for the story"><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/>
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path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352151212111111254
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id: T8WVWP3K4
title: Ms. Johns
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<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311864-BoM-Poll-Back-to-School" target="_top" title="Pick a path for the story">BoM Poll: Back to School</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2311864-BoM-Poll-Back-to-School" target="_blank" title="Pick a path for the story"><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/>
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path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111213521512121111112541
author_id: seuzz
id: WZ25QMTWF
title: Afternoon at the Improv
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Did you tell your teacher why I wanted to meet with her?" you ask Sydney as you're crossing the teacher's lot toward the school.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I thought I'd leave it up to you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Great,</i> you mutter to yourself. <i>An improv exercise.</i> Those were never Paul's strong suit.<br/>
<br/>
But instead of figuring out an attack strategy, you distract yourself by casually studying the students and the school you are planning to invade. The facade that Rocky Beach High presents the street seemed simple enough: A central, three-story building built like a cube, with two projecting wings (two-stories each) on either side, built of white-washed walls of either real adobe or some facsimile, all topped with a gently sloping roof of red tile. But as Sydney leads you around the back, you find that the facade hides many more wings, all of a more modern and varied look: a mix of concrete and yellow brick (and walls of glass brick in places), and flat roofs. They bend and twist around each other too, so that after you have passed under a covered arch separating two wings, it's like plunging into a small maze. As though reading your mind, Sydney says, "I still haven't totally found my way around."<br/>
<br/>
As for the students: Well, you weren't expecting them to be green-skinned aliens with antennae popping out of their foreheads, but you didn't expect them to look so much like the kids you left behind in Saratoga Falls. This being California—this being Los Angeles!—you expected them to look more like something out of a movie, or at least a TV ad. Better clothes, better grooming, more poise and, well, arrogance. But except for one clutch of girls done up in nearly identical black-and-white blouses, vests, skirts and hose, they all look pretty normal. Lots of chubby girls and chubby guys like you have back home; lots of sloppy clothes hanging off lanky shoulders; lots of shorts and t-shirts and ratty tennis shoes. In fact, it is so much like Westside High that it creates something of an "uncanny valley" effect: You might as well be back home, except for it's also completely unfamiliar. The thought, <i>This is going to be my school</i> leaves you feeling slightly nauseous.<br/>
<br/>
You get a good view of the entire campus, because Sydney has to lead you all the way across it to reach the school theater. It's large building, circular in floor plan and rising two stories, so that it resembles a drum. Students are still passing in and out through the double doors at the front as you enter. Inside is a small atrium and a taller, statelier pair of double doors that presumably lead into the auditorium, but Sydney hangs a left and leads you down a curving, antiseptic corridor to a stairwell. "I feel like a need to leave a trail of breadcrumbs," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
But at last you reach an office whose nameplate reads "Gianna Johns." Sydney taps at the open door and puts her head into the office. "Ms. Johns?" she says. You poke your head in after her.<br/>
<br/>
It's a small, windowless room with just enough space for a desk (itself so small it can hold a laptop and not much else), two chairs, and a small bookshelf. The pleasant-faced woman behind the desk is looking up with a smile, and that smile widens when she sees you.<br/>
<br/>
She is almost exactly as Sydney described her, but also quite different. Of all the people you've seen so far on campus, she looks the most "Californian," probably on account of her long, blonde hair, which drapes in thick handfuls down to just past her shoulders. Her face is bold, and her mouth, which isn't too large, is still large enough to contain a good set of teeth that flash into a bright, wide smile. When she stands, you can see that she has good curves. Her face is a light and healthy brown—the face of someone who gets quite a bit of the California sun, but (you would guess) does not sunbathe and probably spends most of her time indoors. <br/>
<br/>
All this you take in instantly, even as you are putting out a hand, which she takes. "This is my dad," Sydney is saying, and then you and Ms. Johns are exchanging hellos and introductions: "I'm Gianna Johns." "Paul Griffin." If she recognizes either you or the name, she doesn't show it.<br/>
<br/>
After a short but awkward pause, you plunge in.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks for seeing me," you say. "I don't want to take up too much of your time—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry about it," Gianna Johns says with a laugh as she sits back down. "I'm required to stay until five anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I wanted to talk to you about—" You halt and turn to give Sydney a penetrating stare. <i>Get the mask ready,</i> is what you're trying to telepathically communicate to her, but she just smiles back at you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fine,</i> you think to yourself. <i>If that's the way she wants to be.</i> You turn back to Ms. Johns. "I wanted to talk to you about Becky and whether or not she should really be in this class."<br/>
<br/>
Ms. Johns blanches slightly, and her gaze darts onto Becky. "Oh?" she says. Sydney, by your side, starts a little.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Um, don't take this the wrong way. I'm a professional actor myself, and I support Becky in whatever she wants to do. I just don't to see <i>you</i> wasting <i>your</i> time with her."<br/>
<br/>
Sydney drops her backpack onto the visitor's chair and unzips it. "Maybe I should take a book and go read someplace outside," she mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, I don't 'waste my time' with anyone, Mr., uh, Griffin," Ms. Johns says. "It's a class, you know, and Becky is one of the students. If you're worried about the grade she might get—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh no, it's not. It's the class I wanted to talk to you about." You feel the sweat pop out all over your body as Sydney draws out one book, and then another, and then a third from her pack. She seems to be taking her sweet time finding ... whatever it is that she's looking for. You can't keep your eyes on Ms. Johns, for your gaze insists on fastening onto Sydney as you silently but frantically urge her on. "It's, it's about your, um, technique. Pedagogy, I guess. Um. I'm not questioning it— I mean, I guess I am, in the sense that—" <i>God damn it, will you get a move on, Sydney?</i> "—I want to talk about what it is, what you'll be teaching her and how. I mean, uh, I know Becky and her, uh— Well, I'm wondering if this class might be too advanced for her? Is there another, more basic class she could be taking instead?" Anxiety crawls over you like ants under your skin.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yes, there is an Introduction to Performance class," Ms. Johns says. She is sounding more and more puzzled, and you can hardly blame her. "But I already talked to Becky, and she says that at her old school—" Her glance strays to Sydney as she at last straightens up from her backpack. But she is still talking to you ("—she already took a theater class that by the sounds of it would have—") even as Sydney swings around the side of the desk and slaps at her teacher's face. Ms. Johns just has time to violently flinch before she freezes, and then slowly slumps in her chair. Sydney hisses, "Will! The door!" and you come unfrozen yourself, and reach over to slam the office door shut. "Now help me with—" Sydney continues, and you wheel around to catch Ms. Johns before she can slide from her chair to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, it took you long enough," you growl as you help her ease Ms. Johns onto the floor, where she curls up, with unseeing eyes, like a broken doll.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm sorry," she retorts. "I wanted to use the metal doohickey on her, and it was at the bottom of my pack. Now help me get her undressed."<br/>
<br/>
Matters would have been much worse if Gianna Johns liked to dress up. But even in her relaxed wardrobe—a blue, denim work shirt, open with the sleeves rolled up, over a white, cotton t-shirt, and blue jeans and sandals—it's hard for the two of you two work on her in the cramped office space, and you keep bumping your shoulders and elbows into the desk or the walls. Sydney is also fumbling clumsily behind the desk.<br/>
<br/>
You've just got the teacher down to her underthings when Sydney asks, "Okay, so which one of <i>us</i> needs to get undressed?"<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer—if you even had an answer, but your brain is still frozen around the question—a cell phone buzzes. It's like a prompt in a play or movie, and instinctively you look around for it. You find it in the enormous shoulder bag in the corner next to the desk.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Michael Riordan,</i> the caller ID says when you look at it, and in a panic you ask yourself, <i>Who?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Will," Sydney says.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't answer, for you are too fascinated by the name, and by the unknown implications behind it. Who is Michael Riordan, and what is his relationship to Gianna Johns? Her husband (though she doesn't wear a ring)? Her boyfriend? Her gay best friend? An old flame, a long-ago fling looking to reconnect, a best friend from high school? Her landlord, insurance agent, car mechanic? Taking on Gianna Johns's identity, you'd be throwing yourself into a life you don't know, and with relationships that might badly complicate your plans, and Sydney's.<br/>
<br/>
"Will," Sydney says. "Which of us should be getting ready to make a switch?"<span class="fmjggefefmg3711"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111125411
author_id: seuzz
id: FNGPFQ7XN
title: A New Role for Will Prescott
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I"ll do it," you mutter under your breath as you put the cell phone back.  "Like I said, it makes more sense."<br/>
<br/>
Sydney doesn't reply, but kneels over Ms. Johns to remove her bra and panties while you unbutton and take off your shirt. After you've got the last of your things off, Sydney locks the office door, and for a moment you silently look at each other. Then with a jerk of the shoulders you lie down on the floor. Before you can reach for your face, Sydney squats beside you and clutches your brow with one hand. "I'll take care of everything, Will," she says. "We have to hurry."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow and close your eyes. Sydney's grip tightens and pulls. It's like the front of your face is being wrenched off with a crowbar.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Waking is like swimming up to the surface of a deep pool of thick syrup: you feel yourself fighting to wake even before you are half conscious of yourself again. It's with a gasp of relief that you break the surface and feel yourself alive again, but you are stiff and cold all over, and want nothing more than to curl up and plunge back into sleep again.<br/>
<br/>
But something tells you to keep moving.<br/>
<br/>
Stiffly you lever yourself upright onto an elbow. A shudder ripples through you. You feel sick and exhausted, and your breath comes in gasps. You rub your face with one hand, and push the hair away from it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hair.</i> You freeze. <i>I'm wearing Ms. Johns's mask.</i> <br/>
<br/>
This time comes a shudder deeper and more nauseating than before. You reach down gingerly, and clasp a large, firm, and well-shaped boob.<br/>
<br/>
Something unlocks inside your head, and your mind is flooded with the sensation of another personality.<br/>
<br/>
Like a deep-welling tide it rises up and drowns all sense of self, leaving you lost and reeling. Everything goes dark as you fight to grasp anything that seems familiar—your parents, your house, your school, your friends, your neighborhood—but nothing remains firm, every thought melts into another and evaporates, leaving you alone with nothing but the thought <i>I am</i> but nothing to follow it.<br/>
<br/>
Then, like a picture coming into focus, everything returns and becomes solid again. The sense of sickness vanishes, replaced with one of hunger. Calmly, you open your eyes, and glance around the extremely familiar office.<br/>
<br/>
You know who you are again.<br/>
<br/>
You know who <i>both</i> of you are.<br/>
<br/>
You push yourself to your feet and, with boobs still jiggling out in the open, walk around the desk and yank open a drawer. You take out and rip open one of the granola bars in there, and hungrily tear a bite from it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck the diet.</i> You've been starving since the start of last period.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Becky Oliver—check that, Sydney McGlynn—must have gone off to do something or other, for you have the office to yourself. You don't hurry as you dress, but you don't waste time either as with a business-like sense of purpose you pull on panties and wrap the bra around yourself.<br/>
<br/>
But though it all feels so familiar, you also take a prickly-skinned pleasure in feeling and enjoying it for the first time.<br/>
<br/>
Take your boobs. They are big enough, and hefty and firm. You don't gloat as you clasp and tuck them into the cups of the bra, but your fingertips do linger on them, and you get a tingle as the tips harden. You have wide hips now, and a little bit of a back shelf, but that just gives the jeans something to rub at and grip as you pull the blue jeans on. Your long, thick hair falls over and covers your face as you pull the t-shirt on, and you spend more than a few unnecessary moments pushing and folding it back over your ears and the top of your head. You spend a moment or two perched atop the desk after you have the sandals on, clasping an arm around one upraised knee.<br/>
<br/>
And then, once you're dressed and have shaken things down comfortably, you feel a warm sense of belonging envelop you. <i>My name is Gianna Johns,</i> you tell yourself with a faint smile, <i>and I'm the junior drama instructor at Rocky Beach High School.</i><br/>
<br/>
You open the door and put your head into the hallway. Becky Oliver, who is leaning against the wall opposite, looks up sharply from her phone. "There you are," you say to her. "Come in."<br/>
<br/>
You withdraw to the other side of your desk as she follows. "That was quick," Becky says as the two of you gaze at each other.<br/>
<br/>
"What was?"<br/>
<br/>
"Getting—" She waves her hand in front of her face.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't waste time." You draw and expel a sharp breath. "So where's your dad?"<br/>
<br/>
"Paul?"<br/>
<br/>
You give her a look.<br/>
<br/>
"I sent him back to the car. I figured you and I could— That we didn't need—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. So, do you want to sit down?" you add as you take a seat yourself. "And close the door?"<br/>
<br/>
Becky complies. There's a look of trepidation on her face.<br/>
<br/>
"So," you say. "Here I am and here we are. I assume you want to move out from under Becky's mask." The girl nods. "So do you want another student, in the acting class, or maybe you—?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a knock at the door. "Come in," you call, and a burly man with a close-trimmed beard opens the door and puts his head in. You tense all over as you greet him. "Hey Tyler. I'm with a—"<br/>
<br/>
"Have you called Malcolm at USC yet?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
"It's on my to-do list."<br/>
<br/>
"Because they're going to be making decisions early, and Andre—"<br/>
<br/>
"I said it's on my list, Tyler. I'll do it first thing after I'm done with Becky here. Have you met Becky yet? She's new." You smile at the girl, who twists around to smile uncertainly at the department him. But he only gives her a quick, tight smile and nod before turning back to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Come see me after you've got done talking to Malcolm," he says. "Because I've promised Andre—"<br/>
<br/>
"The sooner I'm done with Becky, the sooner I can talk to Malcolm."<br/>
<br/>
He takes the hint, but it's with a sour look that he withdraws, closing the door behind him.<br/>
<br/>
"That's Mr.—" Becky says uncertainly.<br/>
<br/>
"Tyler Hardin. <i>Professor</i> Tyler Hardin," you add, "and don't let him catch you calling him 'Mister.'"<br/>
<br/>
"He's the head of the department, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." Becky hesitates, and searches your face. "Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
She lets out her breath. "Just checking. You're ... You're being really good at being her!"<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself plump at the compliment.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, thank you, Becky. I'd love to hear you say that in front of Tyler, but that wouldn't be a good idea, would it? Oh, by the way, thank you for bringing your dad around," you can't help adding with a smirk. "He left me a changed woman."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But Sydney doesn't seem to appreciate the joke, and she is squirmy and uncomfortable all during the short interview that follows. She ends it early by gathering up her things and muttering that maybe she'll talk to you tomorrow. Even when you press her on talking about the next step in the plan, she only mutters, "Tomorrow, Will," and practically runs from the room.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well,</i> you think to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
After that, with nothing else to do, you reluctantly buckle down to take care of some business that Gianna has been putting off. You start by calling Malcolm White, of the USC film school, to put in a plug for Andre Salazar, a Rocky Beach senior who will be applying to the college next year. You make similar calls to UCLA and to a small theater company in Long Beach on behalf of other students. It's all very hard and ugly. Networking and wire-pulling is not something that Gianna Johns enjoys, even on behalf of students she likes (and Andre Salazar was one of her least favorite students, though he's a darling of Tyler's); and though you feel instantly comfortable in her persona, you are also still very conscious that this is a new impersonation, and you feel a real difference between this new "skin" and the old one that you grew used to while being Paul.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Paul.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your thoughts turn to him after you are done with your calls, and after you have seen Tyler Hardin off <i>again</i>.<br/>
<br/>
Gianna did not know Paul Griffin and did not recognize either him or his name, but she did get a small thrill when he came in, for he is darkly handsome in a way that she likes. Sydney's suggestion comes back to you now: <i>If you're so worried about finding a place to live, how about you move in with Ms. Johns after we've added her to the Brotherhood?</i><br/>
<br/>
It would be out of character for Gianna Johns to let a new boyfriend move in with her so soon after meeting him; and besides, you are not exactly enamored with the idea of "dating," let alone "living with" one of your own robots. But Sydney does have a point, and it would be a very convenient way of keeping close to him and Becky after Sydney has moved under a different mask.<br/>
<br/>
And yet ...<br/>
<br/>
You take out your cell phone and look at the missed call from Michael Riordan. He's the manager at the gym where Gianna works out, and this is probably him calling to ask her out on a second date. Gianna is thirty-four years old, and is beginning to feel a little desperate for someone to settle down with. Not that it's really necessary for your impersonation that you keep her on the market. (And inside of two weeks, probably, you will be inside yet another mask.) But it might be safest to keep Gianna Johns on the same course as before.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well,</i> you sigh as the clock sweeps toward five, and you start closing up shop. <i>I don't have to decide all this now.</i> Though maybe it would be a good idea to talk about it all with Sydney tonight instead of waiting until tomorrow.<span class="fkggilligfh3710"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352151212111111254111
author_id: seuzz
id: Y3342RRD5
title: Drive down to see Sydney (and Paul)
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>This is the placeholder for a poll. For details, see: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2312607-BoM-Poll-A-New-Role-for-Will-Prescott" target="_top" title="Pick a path for the interactive">BoM Poll: A New Role for Will Prescott</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/polls/item_id/2312607-BoM-Poll-A-New-Role-for-Will-Prescott" target="_blank" title="Pick a path for the interactive"><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/>
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path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111213521512121111112541111
author_id: seuzz
id: RBHV4H3DK
title: NIght Blooms
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"So do you like Ms. Johns?" Sydney asks you as the meal is wrapping up.<br/>
<br/>
"I like her fine." You grin and stretch your legs out before you. An almost erotic ripple runs up you, from your toes and up your legs, then through your core and up your spine to the base of your neck. You fluff your hair out over and around your shoulders. You smirk at Sydney. "Do <i>you</i> like her?"<br/>
<br/>
Half her mouth goes up in a smile. "Why Ms. Johns," she says, "I do believe you're trying to seduce me."<br/>
<br/>
"Bet your fucking cooch I am." But your eye can't help flitting to Paul.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney catches it. "Both of us?" she asks with a lifted eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
"If I can manage it." Your heart is beginning to beat hard.<br/>
<br/>
"That wouldn't be hard to arrange." Sydney picks up the empty containers from the coffee table and carries them into the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you alone with Paul. "What are <i>you</i> thinking about, handsome?" you tease him.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I've got a thought in pretty little head," he replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Really?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "I'm waiting to see what comes next."<br/>
<br/>
You're about to tell what's coming next, but catch yourself. How far ahead does "next" stretch? Yes, you jumped out of Paul Griffin's mask, but you still feel a residual responsibility for him. Not to mention for Sydney who, as long as she remains in Becky Oliver's mask, will depend on him for support.<br/>
<br/>
"What are we going to do with you two?" you ask her when she comes in to pick up the remainder of dinner. "I mean, where are you going to live? What's <i>he</i>"—you jerk your head at Paul—"going to do for a living?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't he get acting gigs?"<br/>
<br/>
"He needs something until then. And Calabasas is too expensive for him—and you—to live in if he's only got savings to draw on."<br/>
<br/>
Sydney starts to make a reply, but she seems to catch herself, and says instead, "Do you know of anything for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"The only thing Gianna's good at is finding college spots for her students, and even then— Well, she knows someone who works for a dinner theater troupe. But," you add when you catch the wince on Paul's face, "maybe that should only be a last resort."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, something will turn up," Sydney says as she returns to the kitchen. "Maybe we should be on the lookout for someone who could get him a job or a gig, add that person to the Brotherhood."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought that's what we were doing," you retort, "before we decided to go back to high school."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be so cramped in your thinking, Will," she replies when she returns. "When I say we could add someone who could get him a job, I'm talking about another teacher, or a parent. We've got plenty of time to find someone like that, don't we? And besides—"<br/>
<br/>
She straddles your knees and sits on your lap. Almost you yelp and come off the sofa, for Gianna's own instincts aren't very far away, and the boldness of Sydney's move has surprised even you.<br/>
<br/>
"—I thought you wanted to do something else this evening." She leans forward and covers your mouth with hers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend a pleasant forty minutes or so on the sofa, snacking on the body of Becky Oliver as she snacks on you. You kiss and caress and slowly undress each other, helping her lift her t-shirt off, and helping her pull yours off. You nibble the crook of her neck, and nuzzle your way through her long, heavy, musky hair to the side of her head; she reciprocates by lightly biting the side of your throat. You unhook and discard her bra, and the tips of your own breasts harden and rise as you drink in the lifting and bulging curves of her uncovered breasts. You embrace her, and giggle drunkenly as she reaches around to fiddle with the hooks on your own bra. Her skin is warm, and your own skin itches pleasantly where her bare flesh rubs over yours.<br/>
<br/>
Then, when your bra is off and thrown away, you twist around and lay back on the sofa, to let Becky hunch over you and swallow one of your breasts in her hot, wet mouth. She suckles there as you caress the back of her head.<br/>
<br/>
And behind her, directly in your eye-line, Paul Griffin sits watching with a bemused smile.<br/>
<br/>
After the jeans and shoes come off, you and Becky move into the bedroom, but you invite Paul along, telling him he can watch. (Becky starts a little at this, then grins at you.) On the bed, you don't bother to pull Becky's panties off you, just pull them down far enough that you can push your muzzle deep inside her bush, and your tongue up inside to touch and lick the tender, trembling, salty flesh within; the girl wriggles and writhes, and clutches the hair on either side of your head in fistfuls. But she hasn't climaxed before twisting away and demanding that she do the same to you, so you sit back and spread your legs and let her snuffle around inside you. You gnaw on a knuckle and try to will yourself to an orgasm, and yet one doesn't come—not even after you have locked eyes with Paul and (by mouthing the instructions silently over Becky's head) ordered him to take off his shirt and unbuckle his jeans and masturbate while watching you. But all that does is deepen your hunger to feel his cock inside you.<br/>
<br/>
At last you can't resist the siren song any longer, and gently you coax Sydney into getting off you. "I want to try something," you tell her. "I've got to know if—" You beckon to Paul. He strips his jeans and underwear off, and clambers atop you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh Jesus, this is exactly what I want and need,</i> you groan to yourself, and you know it even before he has begun to gently guide himself inside you. Just the touch of his bulging cock sets you thrilling from your lower back all the way down to your toes and up to the base of your skull. You wrap your legs around his hips and gently squeeze, pushing him toward you; you wrap your arms around his neck. But even as he slowly sinks deeper into you, and thrusts farther up inside you, he balances himself on his hands and locks his elbows, and stares down at you with a hard and hungry look. His lips slowly twist into a sardonic smile as he begins to rhythmically thrust inside you, and you feel an answering smile appear on your lips as you clench him there.<br/>
<br/>
Then his cock touches something inside you, and you slam your eyes shut to concentrate on it. And in that moment, as he cock swells and blooms inside you, you forget him and yourself and everything except his hard, thrusting shaft, and the crack he is prying open within you. And when that crack bursts volcanically open, and you rise, shrieking from the bed, you have no other thought but to grasp and grip him to you, and to pull him inside the infinitely deep pit of joy that he has opened within you. For what seems an endlessly hanging moment you cleave to him, squeezing, gripping, crushing him to yourself as you weep and wail, and when the moment wings silently away, you droop bonelessly back onto the bed. But your flesh shivers and puddles as he kisses you all over the tops of your breasts.<br/>
<br/>
You cuddle with both him and Becky after that, and pass out for a little bit, before being woken again by Becky, who invites you to watch as she goes down on her father. That wakes you up, and arouses you to join them afterward, with you and Becky making a kind of parentheses around Paul, who dozes with a smile on his face as you and Becky kiss him from opposites sides. Then you and Becky, on your knees, clasp each other and make out over his prone body until he returns to life and takes each of you in turn in his arms for a lengthy makeout. Then, after he's fully recovered, you lie on the bed and let the crouching Becky go down on you while he takes her from behind. <br/>
<br/>
And in this way you pass the late evening and early hours of the morning. It's from an exhausted sleep that the alarm wakes you, and time is so cramped that you and Becky have to shower together if you are both to get to school in time for Alpha class.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You arrive at school with only ten minutes' margin, and you don't even have time to change into the spare set of clothes that Gianna keeps in her office. Maybe it's your imagination, but you think you see the accusation in the veiled, once-over glance that Chloe Crain gives you as she waits for you to unlock the practice room door: <i>Why are you wearing yesterday's clothes?</i><br/>
<br/>
You put it out of your mind, though, as you race to set up for class. What you can't put out of your mind, though, is your determination to set Paul Griffin up someplace in Calabasas so that you can see him—and fuck him—without having to make that shitty drive all the way down to Los Angeles.<br/>
<br/>
The simplest way, of course, would be to just have him and Becky move in with you, but you quail at the questions that would cause if it ever got out (which it would be bound to do). But you are blanking on alternatives.<br/>
<br/>
And then Riker White walks in.<br/>
<br/>
Riker and his gang irritate you, because they're in this class only for "the lulz." But they have a sizable online presence, and a hundred-thousand subscribers watch the skits they write and perform, making them the closest thing to "celebrities" there are at Rocky Beach High. If Paul "joined" their channel, it might get him the buzz he needs to keep his career on track—and worm you and Sydney more deeply into the high school.<span class="fngigffkfmg3610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111125411111
author_id: seuzz
id: Q7L3FBR5G
title: Let Paul move in with Gianna
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author_id: seuzz
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title: Get him a job with that dinner theater
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path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111125411113
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title: Put him online by adding Riker's gang to th...
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path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352151212111111254111141
author_id: seuzz
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title: Get Sydney a teacher.
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path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352151212111111254111142
author_id: seuzz
id: J8BV9CVLC
title: Get Sydney one of Gianna's outside friends.
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path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111213521512121111112541111422
author_id: seuzz
id: VCKHGNSLT
title: The Search for Style
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You're only able to talk a little more with Brittney before she has to cut it off. She ends by inviting you to her "Poker Tuesday" party tomorrow night.<br/>
<br/>
"It's just a little thing we've started doing since I met Jeremy." She giggles. "He likes his poker, and Tuesdays are the only nights we're both free, so—" She shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said you'd only been dating him for two weeks."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's how long we've been dating. We've been, you know, seeing each other for a little longer than that." She scrunches her nose in a way that she thinks is adorable, and blushes again.<br/>
<br/>
<i>She always could blush on cue,</i> you find yourself thinking. <i>Too bad its a skill that doesn't really work on stage.</i><br/>
<br/>
You promise that you will come to her house tomorrow for poker night, and ask if you can bring a date of your own. She gasps an "Of course!", and you can tell she's dying to ask who it is. But you blunt her question with an enigmatic smile and repeat that you'll see her tomorrow night.<br/>
<br/>
Jeremy Short may be a hunk, but so is Paul Griffin. And he's younger <i>and</i> he's been in television and movies!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Angela Crosby was a mutual acquaintance whose name got dropped while talking to Brittney. You haven't seen Angela in awhile, but Brittney did confirm that she still works at DAUM, an expensive boutique on the edge of town, facing Beverly Hills. <i>In fact,</i> Brittney said, <i>though I might be wrong so don't quote me, but in fact I think she's part-owner now!</i><br/>
<br/>
It wouldn't surprise you.<br/>
<br/>
Of all the girls that Gianna knew when she was still acting professionally, Angela was the one everyone thought would go the farthest.<br/>
<br/>
Even though she wasn't an actress.<br/>
<br/>
And even though she is black.<br/>
<br/>
Gianna met Angela when they both worked at Caravan, a women's clothing store specializing in "exotic" clothing. Angela, who is tall, regal, statuesque, and reserved in the manner of a Maasai warrior-woman, was a natural for the store, and it was both awe-inspiring and somewhat sickening to watch middle-aged white women grovel for her approval, both of themselves and their purchasing choices. Angela was never less than polite, but the difference between her approval and disapproval could only be detected in the slight difference in warmth when she said, "I think that will work for you."<br/>
<br/>
She wasn't an actress, but she did some modeling, but mostly she was known by friends and colleagues for her stab at being a fashion influencer online. But both her YouTube channel and her Tumblr account, the last time Gianna checked, had gone un-updated for months, and her subscriber count was never very large. Maybe it was on account of her already being in her late twenties; maybe she was just too "cool" and "aloof" for video. But the quarter-successful attempt did give Angela cachet in her circle.<br/>
<br/>
She and Gianna (and everyone else) had to find other work when Caravan closed, but Angela was quickly hired by DAUM when it opened in the same location. And she might now be a co-owner in the store now? You can't help wondering what that means, as Angela was never one to save up her money. She could only have a financial interest in the store if the owner gave her one. And why would its owner do that? You can think of only a couple of reasons, none of them very flattering to Angela.<br/>
<br/>
Still, she's another candidate for conversion to the Brotherhood, so after leaving Bruges you make a side trip to DAUM, which is still open. The clerk (when she deigned to speak to you after you barged up with an "Excuse me") coolly informs you that "Ms. Crosby" isn't here, and she takes the card you give her (along with the request to mention to Angela that you stopped by) as though it's a dead cockroach. Your flesh is cold on your bones as you leave the store.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've got a very passive-aggressive text from Sydney (<i>How r things going?</i>) but you don't answer it until you get home and have made yourself a hot tea. Then you call her directly. "I'm still looking, Sydney," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't have to be someone perfect, Will," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"But you want someone who's good," you tell her. "I thought I had someone picked out for you tonight, one of Gianna's old friends from back when she was still acting, but—"<br/>
<br/>
But after thinking of Angela, you are less than impressed with Brittney. "Well, I've got some other, better ideas," you lamely conclude.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you can get just someone at school—"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm trying to get you one of Gianna's old friends," you interrupt. "I know them better than I know any of the kids at school. Why are you so hot to get out of Becky's mask, Sydney? It's on account of drama, isn't it?" She doesn't answer. "Well, I don't know who at school is suffering from 'drama'. Probably most of them, right? But with Gianna's friends—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I get it, Will," she says. "Only, I kind of thought we were going to be people our own age. You know. Not middle-aged people with responsibilities." She says the last word as though it's a synonym for "herpes."<br/>
<br/>
"Gianna is not middle-aged!" you retort, for the gibe has stung you. "And her friend aren't either! And I'm just looking for one person, someone you can be, like, soon. We can still go back to the high school. Though maybe," you add, "you should let me go in first, scout around—"<br/>
<br/>
"We can talk about that later, Will," she says with crisp decision. "Just find someone who works."<br/>
<br/>
"Is it really that bad, Sydney?" you ask. "Being Becky?"<br/>
<br/>
Her sigh is ragged.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm finding out how much I got by on my looks back when I was me," she says, and her tone is haggard. "When I moved to Saratoga Falls, everything was okay, it was good, because everyone was nice to me. Because I—" She falls silent.<br/>
<br/>
"Because you looked like a hot cheerleader," you finish for her.<br/>
<br/>
"Ye-es," she sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"You looked like a hot cheerleader," you repeat. "I know, Sydney, because I saw you. I couldn't take my eyes off you. I—"<br/>
<br/>
The words come tumbling out almost before you know what you're saying: "I fucked over my best friend, Sydney, I used black magic, just so I could get close to you and talk to you. God, I am so crazy about you!"<br/>
<br/>
You throw yourself back onto the sofa, splay your legs out, and rub your pussy through the front of your slacks.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm crazy about you too, Will. Every night, when I'm with Paul—"<br/>
<br/>
She catches herself. <br/>
<br/>
You too are a little shocked at the implication of what she was about to say. So shocked that again you can't stop yourself from speaking. "Are you still letting your dad fuck you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, every night, Will," she groans. "Because— I know I was giving you shit when you were wearing his mask. He's such a fucking narcissist, he's such a goose-brained ninny—"<br/>
<br/>
You don't remember feeling or acting like a "goose-brained ninny" when you were being Paul, but you don't interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
"—but he was <i>you,</i> and being with him was my first time being with <i>you,</i> Will! I miss you, but he's here, and when he cums inside me I pretend that it's you!"<br/>
<br/>
"You can come over," you suggest.<br/>
<br/>
"Not tonight," she says, but there's a note of reluctance in her gasp. "Tomorrow night?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've got something— Oh, yes!" You recall now Brittney's invitation. "You and Paul need to come over tomorrow. I'm supposed to go to a poker party at a friend's house, and I want Paul along as my date!"<br/>
<br/>
"And me?" She sounds skeptical, and you instantly see her point.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you should come over too," you say. "Paul will be— Well, he won't be my 'date' exactly, just sort of my date, and you can come along because, well—" Okay, there doesn't seem to be a good way to justify the presence of a teenage girl at a poker party for thirty- and forty-somethings. "Well, we'll just say that I suggested he bring her. You can sulk if you want."<br/>
<br/>
"Will."<br/>
<br/>
"You can get a look at one of the girls I'm thinking of for you. She's the one who invited me out."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," she sighs. "It can't be any more awkward than what happened to me in Gamma period today."<br/>
<br/>
"What happened to you in Gamma?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. It was just a 'for instance' for myself."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After closing the connection, you kill thirty minutes by checking on your various social sites, then with a groan you decide to be a good teacher and write up some lesson plans for the morrow. You're interrupted by a text by Angela—which is blessed relief—asking you to Skype her. You get on your laptop and eagerly open the app.<br/>
<br/>
It's a shock when Angela's window opens.<br/>
<br/>
Not on account of Angela. She looks the same as ever, with an oval, agelessly flawless face with a calm gaze and large eyes. These have been touched up a little at the corners with kohl, and she wears dark lipstick, giving her a slightly "Nubio-Egyptian" look. Her hair, though, she is now wearing short, and she's no longer straightening it. Instead, it bursts from the top of her head in a great mop that curves out stiffly to fall just to the top of her jawline.<br/>
<br/>
No, the shock is how professionally she has set up her camera. There is none of the leering "fish eye lens" look you usually get on a Skype call; instead, her picture has the flatly framed aspect of a TV monitor, and she herself is poised midway between the camera and the chocolate-creamy bookcase behind, like a news anchor.<br/>
<br/>
Did she set this up herself? You rather doubt it. It was probably one of the dozens of boyfriends she's undoubtedly had since you last spoke to her.<br/>
<br/>
So struck are you by the tableaux she presents that you surreptitiously take a screenshot to show Sydney. Angela's own testimony about the success of the shop, and the gigs she's getting as a model, only confirm her as an attractive possibility for your girlfriend.<span class="fmjggefeffei3711"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135215121211111125411114222
author_id: seuzz
id: ZFS64K6GT
title: Meet the Morrows
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Angela may be very stylish, and her mask-like sobriety gives her an air of mystery and gravity. But like a lot of models Gianna has known, she is actually pretty vapid. Her conversation is full of <i>Oh my Gods!</i> and <i>You knows,</i> and she can't maintain a train of thought for more than half a minute before lighting off on a digression. So a story about a fashion shoot in Malibu veers into a story about meeting Paoli Viani through a mutual acquaintance, which then sends her careening onto a tangent about a movie project that she was up for but which fell through. None of these stories reach any kind of climax or point before being interrupted.<br/>
<br/>
The clincher comes, though, when you ask her if it's true she's a part-owner in DAUM now, and she only bites her thumbnail and grins coyly at you. This more or less confirms your suspicion that that financial interest, if it exists, is a payoff of some kind. <br/>
<br/>
There might be some "fun" in adding Angela to your coven, but Sydney is talking like she wants you and her to be people who are fairly "normal," and Angela would definitely not qualify as "normal."<br/>
<br/>
Once you've decided not to pursue Angela, you close the call as soon as you decently can.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Tuesdays are days you can go in late, for they open with Beta period, which is Gianna's planning period. Tyler doesn't like it, but Gianna always has some kind of excuse, like she had to pick up her dry cleaning, or make a deposit at the bank, for coming in well after the first bell. Today you're fifty minutes late getting to school, because you spoiled yourself with a bath and hot, soapy pussy rub.<br/>
<br/>
It puts you in a good mood, and you're able to slide through your three classes (long though they are) without wilting. The toughest is Acting I, the class with Becky. You have to pretend that she is more or less a stranger to you, which makes you feel guilty, and you can't help but see resentment in the hooded glances she casts at you. It doesn't help that she is clearly uncomfortable in the class, being very self-conscious. Neither can you miss the glances and smirks exchanged behind her back by the other students who, though they are not really much more talented than Becky, at least have an ambition, an enthusiasm, and a comfort that the new girl clearly lacks. You can tell it's only going to get worse, too, and you strongly suspect that Sydney, once she has abandoned Becky's body, will not be going back to it.<br/>
<br/>
She comes to see you when school is over, but only to confirm that the "poker party" is still on, and to get directions to it. You give her a time and address.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"—ten days past their own deadline before we even heard back from the HOA," Samantha Morrow is saying. "Corey asked the contractor why they were so late giving us approval, and he said the guy who was supposed to give it was out of town and had just got back. But come on!" She rolls her eyes. "In that case, give us the freaking approval <i>before</i> you leave town!"<br/>
<br/>
She is sipping Chardonnay from a fluted glass, and you can't help seeing a resemblance between it and her. Her face, like the glass, is very long and narrow, and made narrower by her blonde hair which, parted in the middle, hugs the side of her face. Her eyes are slanted under arched eyebrows, and her nose is long. Her mouth, though small, is full, and only discloses the tips of her teeth when she talks or smiles (which isn't often). She is fascinating to look at, having the same withdrawn, mysterious, and vaguely Egyptian look as Angela, but cast in porcelain white-and-blonde, which makes her seem even more exotic.<br/>
<br/>
She's much more intelligent, too, and when Brittney asks her about the cost of the new pool that she and her husband are putting in, she talks intelligently about the finances and the loan they took out, and about the decisions behind it.<br/>
<br/>
"When we went to buy a house," she explains, "there was nothing in our range we could afford that already had a pool. But we made sure when we did buy a house that there was room to put one in. Corey'd already done some research on what they cost and what they'd add to the value." She takes a sip of wine. "I don't even know that we're going to get much use out of it," she says, "but we figure it will add at least fifteen percent to the value of the house, which is a couple of times more than the cost of putting it in."<br/>
<br/>
You and she and Brittney are hanging out in the kitchen while the poker game proper is being played in the roomy den a couple of doorways over. Eight people seemed a bit much to squeeze around a table, so it's a game of "family stakes" (as Brittney put it) with each couple sharing a pot—except for Brooke Perry, who insists on playing with her own money against her own date. So you three women are in the kitchen while Samantha's husband, and your and Brittney's dates, play for the honor (and wealth) of your couples.<br/>
<br/>
Brittney is asking for the name of the Morrows's pool contractor when Paul comes in. I his dark jeans and bomber jacket, he's looking handsome and dashing in a moody kind of way, and you thrill as he puts a hand on your butt and smooches the side of your head. "Where's Becky?" he asks as he turns to the fridge to get himself another beer.<br/>
<br/>
"On her phone in the living room. We're a little too old for her, Paul."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a quick, hooded glance, then stumps out of the kitchen again.<br/>
<br/>
Brittney leans in on you with a girlish grin. "Where did you two meet?" she asks. "You didn't say when you introduced him!'<br/>
<br/>
"A coffee shop." You can't help preening a little: Brittney had instantly recognized him, though had waited until she was alone with you in the kitchen before confirming he was "the" Paul Griffin. "I was on my laptop, he was on his. He was looking for a place here in Calabasas, and he just came out and asked me if I could recommend a good apartment complex." You smile as you take a sip of your own wine.<br/>
<br/>
"And the next thing he was asking you out," Brittney says. She slaps you in the shoulder. "Get out!"<br/>
<br/>
"We exchanged numbers."<br/>
<br/>
"So has he found a place?"<br/>
<br/>
Samantha jumps in. "Who brings his teenage daughter on a date?" she asks, and her tone is caustic.<br/>
<br/>
"He said she's mature for her age," you reply, "and that she wants to do 'grown up' activities. I think this is a little too grown up."<br/>
<br/>
"More like she wants to be out with college guys," Samantha sniffs. "Corey has a niece who—"<br/>
<br/>
And just like that, she is off again, talking about Corey and herself and their own lives and doings.<br/>
<br/>
So you've learned quite a lot about them in a surprisingly short period. They are personal trainers—a claim you'd credit just by looking at her. She is very slim and toned, showing off strong but tapering legs in a pair of tight jeans, and visible abs peek out through the narrow gap between the top of her jeans and the bottom of a white t-shirt. Her boobs are on the small side, but they have a defined bulge beneath the tightly stretched fabric of her shirt. Her husband, too, looks trim and fit, and is tall, being a shade over six-two, by the looks of it. (Beside him, the other men look a little runty.) But they are not "merely" personal trainers, Samantha has been at pains to make clear, but "full-body/full-mind health consultants" to a select number of wealthy clients. They have even, she says, designed workout facilities for certain clients with the aid of an architect.<br/>
<br/>
She's telling you about a hiking trip that they took to Oregon—though it was also in the nature of a business trip, as they were investigating possibilities for extending their services to include "health and exercise excursions"—when her husband comes in. Unlike Paul, who had merely detoured to your side while making a trip for the fridge, Corey makes straight for his wife. He gives her a handful of poker chips.<br/>
<br/>
"What's this?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Your turn," he says. "I'm losing bad in there. It's brutal."<br/>
<br/>
"This is all we have left?" she demands in unbelieving tones as she stares down at the chips.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you it was brutal."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Corey—"<br/>
<br/>
"Your turn. Unless you want to go home."<br/>
<br/>
"Not with this." She sets her glass on the countertop, and stalks from the kitchen with an impatient toss of her head.<br/>
<br/>
"So who's winning in there?" Brittney asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Paul is." Corey gives you a direct look. "Is he a professional?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm feeling hustled." His tone is even but unhappy.<br/>
<br/>
"How's everyone else doing?" Brittney asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Jeremy's doing okay," he assures her. "Joel's down a little, I think. Brooke's just about busted." He gives you another direct look. "I think she's <i>giving</i> her money to your guy."<br/>
<br/>
You'd not be surprised. Brooke Perry—who works for Brittney at Bruges—is probably playing footsie with Paul. Hell, she's probably got her leg wrapped around his.<br/>
<br/>
"What's he working on now?" Corey asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Who, Paul? I don't know," you say. "I think he's, uh, between projects."<br/>
<br/>
Corey's brow furrows as he takes a beer out, pops the top, and knocks back a mouthful.<br/>
<br/>
"If he wants something steady," he says, "he should talk to Samantha and me."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyebrows go up. "Are you also TV producers?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I meant if he wants steady work, not acting gigs. He told me he's done a lot of work with personal trainers. He knows the stuff."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyebrows arch higher. "Are you suggesting he work for you? As a trainer on your staff?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm suggesting a partnership." Corey pushes back another slug of beer. "A guy like that would be great PR. And like I said, he knows the work."<span class="ijfifgfjgee2610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352151212111111254111142222
author_id: seuzz
id: WZQKFSJDC
title: Poker? I Hardly Know Her!
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I'll mention it to him," you tell Corey Morrow. "But, you know, I don't think he's done with acting."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he wouldn't have to be," Corey starts to say, but you interrupt him with an even cooler, "I'll mention it to him."<br/>
<br/>
You're pretty much done with the Morrows by this point. Though there is some temptation in the idea of adding them to the Brotherhood—they are physically attractive, and Corey's idea would give Paul some security—you are feeling tired and aggravated by them. They seem to talk and think only of themselves.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, you feel like you have to put a little distance between you and them, and after refilling your wine glass you go looking for Becky.<br/>
<br/>
She's not in the living room, so you check in the den, where the poker game is continuing. There's a lot of loud chatter in there, but Becky isn't.<br/>
<br/>
You pause to watch the game. There's some kind of drama unfolding.<br/>
<br/>
It's focused on Paul and Brooke Perry. He's sitting back in his chair, covering his downturned cards with his hand, smiling enigmatically at her. She's leaning halfway across the table, tightly clutching her cards in her one hand while jabbing at Paul with a hard, stiff finger.<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshitter!" she is shouting with a wide, laughing grin. "You're a freaking bullshitter, man!" Paul's smile widens. "You all see it, right?" Brooke addresses the others at the table. "The bullshit?"<br/>
<br/>
Jeremy Short—Brittney's date—is relaxing in his chair with a smile almost as wide as Brooke's. Joel May—Brooke's date—rests his elbows on the table and with laughing eyes slowly draws on an enormous cigar. Even Samantha wears a narrow smile as she glances between Brooke and Paul.<br/>
<br/>
"Cost you fifty to make the charge stick," Paul murmurs. He waves at the pot, which holds a couple of hundred dollars.<br/>
<br/>
"I been watching this guy all night!" Brooke yells. "I know every tell he's got, and they're all flashing like freaking neon! You're tryin' to bullshit me!" <br/>
<br/>
Joel takes the cigar from his mouth. "Fifty dollars, babe," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's my last fifty!" Her voice catches; it's full of smoker's gravel. "If I lose this I have to go home!"<br/>
<br/>
Paul's smile widens fractionally, but he doesn't otherwise move. Brooke falls back into her chair with a growl.<br/>
<br/>
Brooke is a tomboy. At least, she tries to be one. She's dressed in a sloppy t-shirt, and wears a silver choker and two leather cords about her neck. There's another leather band on her right wrist, and on her right, middle finger she sports a ring with an opal the size of a marble. A web-mesh trucker hat, turned backwards, is jammed onto her head, holding back the cascading blonde hair that spills past the tops of her shoulders. She wears too much mascara, but her unblemished face is otherwise mostly free of makeup. She is in her early thirties, same as Gianna.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe that's why Gianna dislikes Brooke so much, it occurs to you now. They're so similar: Brooke could be Gianna's younger, lewder, trailer-trash cousin.<br/>
<br/>
She grins brightly at Paul now, her teeth a blinding rictus. Her eyes dance. <i>God, she's horny for him,</i> you think with a stab of envy and anger. <i>She'd jump the table and give him a lap dance if she could.</i> You have to fight to throttle the fury that Gianna feels.<br/>
<br/>
Brooke picks up her last two chips—both green—and taps them on the table. Paul's gaze drops.<br/>
<br/>
"Oooh!" Brooke gasps, and comes half out of her chair. "<i>Oooh!</i> There it is, guys!" She points at Paul. "You see it, you freaking see it? There's the tell!" A rumble of laughter rises around you, and you glance back to find that Brittney and Corey have joined you to watch. "You ain't got shit in your hand, man!" Brooke gloats at Paul as his grin turns bashful and he starts to blush. "You ain't got shit, and you're about to be busted as a bullshitter! <i>Call!</i>" She tosses the chips into the pot, and leans across the table to grin at him.<br/>
<br/>
Paul winces, and turns over his cards with a quick flick of the wrist. It takes you a moment to register the flush.<br/>
<br/>
It takes Brooke a moment too. When she does, she slams her palms and her face into the table. <br/>
<br/>
Jeremy hoots unsympathetically while Joel snickers around his cigar. Paul delicately scratches an eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
Brooke suddenly springs to her feet.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, that was a good game!" She circles the table, keeping a finger aimed directly at Paul's face. "But you owe me, you bullshitter! You got all my money, so you owe me!"<br/>
<br/>
"I won it fair and square," Paul says. With a casual swipe he pulls the pot to him.<br/>
<br/>
"You still owe me. Here's what."<br/>
<br/>
She lays both hands on his perfectly coiffed hair, and quickly musses it.<br/>
<br/>
"There! Been wantin' to do that all evening! I'm going out back for a smoke," she adds. "I know house rules say we can smoke in here, but I need a cooling douche. It's too hot in here!" She sweeps from the room.<br/>
<br/>
A couple of conversations break out around the table, but you've lost your interest, and continue your search for Becky.<br/>
<br/>
She's not in any of the bedrooms—but you'd hardly expect her to be—and are driven to look on the back porch. That's where you find her, curled up in a cast-iron chair next to a glass-topped outdoor table. She's got her phone out, but she's talking—or listening—to Brooke, who is leaning against the redwood railing that separates the patio deck from the small back yard and blowing streams of smoke into the night air.<br/>
<br/>
She glances over as you come out.<br/>
<br/>
"I was tellin' the kid here," she says, "that's quite a poppa she's got. Is he a professional?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gambler?" You glance at Becky, who only returns you a blank look of her own. You've been outside of Paul's mask long enough now that everything except basic knowledge about his life and circumstances has faded from your memory, so you've no idea if he's good or just lucky at cards. "I don't know," you confess. "I mean, professionally he's an actor—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he could do the cards thing professionally," Brooke says. She takes a drag off her cigarette. "How long you two been seeing each other?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel uncomfortably aware of Becky's presence. "A couple of weeks?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all? Is it serious between you?"<br/>
<br/>
Possessiveness flares in you. "How long have you and Joel been seeing each other?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, me and Joel." She waves her cigarette dismissively. "We're just old friends. Comfort food."<br/>
<br/>
You didn't get much of a look at Joel when Brittney introduced you to him, and you only got the briefest impression of him. He's older than Brooke, you'd wager that much, in his late forties or even early fifties. He has a full head of hair, worn semi-long, that still has streaks of brown and black in it, but it has mostly faded to the color of smoked ash. His face is unlined, though, and his eyes are alert and amused. The way he slid panther-like through the house, though—and the way he greeted Jeremy and Corey with hard back-slaps and a couple of <i>Bros</i> and <i>Bruhs</i>—gave you the impression that he is, if not a retired surfer, at least someone who has done a lot of surfing in his time. He has a very easy way with that cigar, but you'd bet he has an even easier way with a blunt.<br/>
<br/>
So if he seems too old for Brooke, at the same time he seems fast enough and loose enough for her too. Are they "comfort food" for each other? You guess you can see that.<br/>
<br/>
But Brooke is still talking. (She loves to talk.) "For your next date," she says, "you and bro-hunk should come out to Joel's, let him treat you guys to dinner."<br/>
<br/>
"What's his 'place' again?" you ask, as though you'd momentarily forgotten something you'd never even been told.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he owns Bruges, though that's not exactly public knowledge, so don't spread it around, okay?" Brooke says. She takes one last drag on the cigarette, and grinds it out atop the railing. "But his big thing is Fat Beach."<br/>
<br/>
"The brewery down by the pier?" This surprises you.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. The brewery <i>and</i> the restaurant. The onion rings there? Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
Gianna does know the onion rings, and mention of them sets your mouth watering. Fat Beach—named after the smaller, secondary beach a mile or so up the coast from Calabasas's more famous "Rocky Beach"—is a local institution dating back to the mid-nineties: a microbrewery with a national (if minor) presence, and an attached pub famous for its gourmet burgers and chicken-fried steaks. Between them they must gross several millions, maybe several tens of millions, of dollars a year.<br/>
<br/>
And that surfer-bro in there, who looks and dresses like he lives out of his car? He owns it?<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going back inside," Brooke says, detaching herself from the railing. "See if I can pick up a few tips and tricks watching your guy. Oh!" She stops at the doorway and turns. "Does your guy do endorsements?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's something maybe he could talk to Joel about. Publicity, ads. Spokesman stuff, you know. You think he'd be interested?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, talk to him about it. Then bring him out to Fat Beach. Or Bruges. I'd rather it was Bruges," she slyly adds.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your breath slightly taken away after Brooke has gone. Maybe that's another reason Gianna doesn't like her: She moves fast and breaks anything in her way.<br/>
<br/>
Still, what she has said has given you an idea you hadn't even bothered to consider before.<br/>
<br/>
"What about her?" you suggest to Becky.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," she replies. "What about her?"<br/>
<br/>
"For a mask. The Brotherhood. Her and Joel?"<br/>
<br/>
Becky glances at the door, and looks a little askance.<br/>
<br/>
"If you like her, Will," she says in a low voice. "By this point I'm not picky."<span class="fmjggefeffem3711"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111213521512121111112541111422222
author_id: seuzz
id: EMFHWVL2L
title: From Plan B to Plan C
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Sydney doesn't sound enthusiastic about becoming Brooke Perry. "I'll keep looking," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't fuck around, Will," she says, and there's a note of warning in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You stay out on the patio with her, describing the other women you have eyeballed as choices: Brittney, Angela, Samantha. But her enthusiasm for them matches her enthusiasm for Brooke. Which is to say, they sound acceptable, but she's more interested in just not being Becky anymore.<br/>
<br/>
Talk between you grows awkward, so that you're on the point of returning inside, when the back door opens and Paul looks out. "Hey," he calls. "I was thinking of heading out."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll go with you," you say, grateful for the excuse to leave. Becky follows you in, and dawdles silently by the front door as you and Paul exchange friendly farewells with the other couples. Brooke makes a special point of grasping him by the front of his jacket, pulling him close, and giving him a wet smooch on the side of the head. "There," she declares. "Now I owe <i>you</i> something for letting me do that! Come around and collect sometime!"<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't look at you, but you can't help glancing at Joel, who only smiles serenely at this brazen proposition of another man by his own date.<br/>
<br/>
Outside, before you part for your vehicles (for you drove out separately), Paul asks, "You're not upset at the way Brooke was flirting with me, are you, boss?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I trust you." <i>I control you,</i> you silently add. And yet your heart chills when he asks, "Do you want me to ignore her, or follow up with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what we mean to each other, boss. You and me, I mean. Except as boss and— Well, whatever I am." His expression is gnomic. "But I could do something with her, if you that would be useful to you—" His eye flicks toward Becky. "And Beckster."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is he really horny for Brooke?</i> you wonder. <i>Can things like him be horny? Or is he honestly just trying to be a good lackey?</i><br/>
<br/>
"I'll let you know when I want something like that from you," you tell him. "Goodnight. Goodnight, Becky," you say to the girl loitering behind his elbow. "I'll see you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have you for class tomorrow, Ms. Johns," she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be seeing you about something else, Sydney," you assure her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Except you don't. You chicken out.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, it's not all your fault. It is a week day, after all, and that complicates things.<br/>
<br/>
Your first thought was to get Angela out to your house: she is the most unique of the women you have been toying with. But as lunchtime comes and goes, you get no reply to your text. Caution then recommends you have a backup prepared, so you text Brittney. But she says that she'll be busy all day and evening, and can she see you this weekend? You agree, even though you know that's too far off for Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
Panic is beginning to set in as your last class of the day starts, so you text both Samantha and Brooke. Brooke you tempt with the prospect that Paul will be at your place this evening, and you tell Samantha that Paul would like to meet with her and Corey both about their idea of bringing him in as a partner in their personal-trainer business. Like Brittney, Samantha can't meet before the weekend; and Brooke has sent no reply before the final bell has rung.<br/>
<br/>
This leaves you empty-handed, as there is no one else you have considered (at least well-considered) whom you could snatch at a pinch.<br/>
<br/>
So you text Sydney to say that you can't meet her after school because something came up, but that you'll talk to her tonight. By that point, either Brooke will have come through (you hope) or you will have composed a properly groveling apology for making her wait until Saturday for a new mask.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So given all that, Sydney's reply—which you don't check until you're parked at your apartment—is like a brick to the face: <br/>
<br/>
<i>Thats ok those people seemed kind of old anyway.</i><br/>
<br/>
You bang your forehead on the steering wheel. <i>Son of a bitch!</i><br/>
<br/>
You were knocking yourself out for the last few days to get one of Gianna's friends for Sydney, and <i>now</i> she tells you they were all "too old" for her? Are you now going to have to start all over?<br/>
<br/>
You are fuming as you stalk down the walkway toward your apartment. <i>Let Sydney pick a face for herself,</i> you growl. <i>Someone in her acting class, so I have an excuse to pull them aside after school. But let Sydney do all the work and worrying, and make the compromises, because she's the one with the hot itch to get into a new body and situation! I shouldn't have made it my problem to begin with!</i><br/>
<br/>
So preoccupied, you are charging up to your apartment when the door opposite opens, and Jackson comes out. You're not so preoccupied, though, that you don't stop to ogle him.<br/>
<br/>
He's dressed in fresh, tight blue jeans and a fire-engine red polo; his brown hair gleams damply. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he grins and jerks his chin at you in greeting. "Wassup?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
Then his expression falters a little. "Something wrong?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
He jerks his chin at you again. "Something the matter? You look like you sat on a bumblebee, and the bumblebee had something to say back."<br/>
<br/>
His words are like a cold slap to the face, and you realize you must have been stomping along with a scowl. You force yourself to relax.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you start to say, "I just—"<br/>
<br/>
Then, suddenly, something like a mathematical equation unfurls in your head.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Young plus handsome plus probably has access to lots of girls plus lives next door to Gianna minus need to please Sydney by offering him to her, all multiplied by immediate availability, equals:</i><br/>
<br/>
Switch places with Jackson.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You loose a short, exasperated sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"It's my wifi," you tell him. "You know anything about it?"<br/>
<br/>
His expression falters. "Your wifi? Or in general?"<br/>
<br/>
"In general. I can't— I've tried everything and I can't get a signal! Could you, if you've got a minute—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I got a minute." He checks his watch with a thoughtful frown. "Yeah, I got—"<br/>
<br/>
But you're already putting the key in your lock. "Great! Thanks! I can't tell you how much it's been aggravating me!" You push the door open, step into the foyer, drop your bag by the kitchen bar, then turn back to him expectantly.<br/>
<br/>
Jackson is still loitering on the walkway, a look of slight confusion on his face. But then he shakes himself and trudges in after you. He pushes the door closed behind him—<br/>
<br/>
And you are nearly overwhelmed by an ardent lust. The presence of this young man in your apartment—this attractive stranger—this invasion, this irruption into your space of a male body—ionizes the air. It's all you can do to keep from throwing your arms around him and covering his mouth with kisses.<br/>
<br/>
"It's in the—" you start to say, gesturing at the bedroom, then think better of it. "Maybe I should unplug it and bring it out."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's your laptop?" he calls after you. "Or your computer?"<br/>
<br/>
"Laptop's in my bag!" you call back. "Can you get it out that while I get the router? Just set it on the coffee table and open it up!"<br/>
<br/>
The wifi is balanced on a bookshelf in the bedroom, but you ignore it and from the closet haul out the bag of masks and gear that you took when you left Paul's the other night. From it you extract one of those metal strips. You carefully fit it into the palm of your hand.<br/>
<br/>
Jackson is seated on the sofa, hunching forward to squint at the laptop he's set up on the coffee table. Even just sitting there, he conveys an air of mastery, so that when he looks up at you, and you nearly squirt. "You're gonna need to put in your password," he says as you tell yourself to keep it under control.<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme come around," you say, and sweep along behind him and the sofa. As you pass, you reach around and—almost as a caress—press the metal strip to his forehead. He relaxes immediately, and you cradle his head as you help him to gently topple onto his side on the sofa.<br/>
<br/>
You move around to look down at him. He is tan, fit, handsome, well-dressed, and young. Eminently desirable.<br/>
<br/>
And on an impulse that hits before you can stop it, you lean over to palm his crotch, feeling for his package. But the denim is too heavy and wadded up to tell anything.<br/>
<br/>
He is wearing—you notice for the first time—a choker of polished wooden beads around his throat, and on another impulse you unclasp it. The beads rattle in your grasp as, in something like a daydream, you stride into the bedroom, tear off your shirt and your bra, and put the choker around your own neck. Then you regard yourself—tits bobbing nakedly—in the mirrored closet doors.<br/>
<br/>
You are Gianna Johns, and you are an attractive thirty-something woman with blonde hair, a pretty face, a toothy smile, and good knockers. The choker looks okay on you. But it will look better when—<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and visualize a different you: a strapping, naked torso with defined abs and pecs, sun-darkened skin, a friendly smile bobbing on a handsome face under chocolate-covered hair. And the choker dangling from whence you'd taken it. With eyes closed you touch the choker, running your fingers over it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, this'll work!</i><br/>
<br/>
You're even more sure it will work when there's a chime from the living room, and you return to find a newly delivered text on Jackson's phone. It's from someone named Amber.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Running late don't pick me up till 530 reservs good thru 7.</i><br/>
<br/>
So, was Jackson heading out on a date? On a Wednesday? Intriguing.<br/>
<br/>
You might yet be able to score Sydney a body before midnight!<br/>
<br/>
* Continue<span class="fnhfmnfeefnk3711"></span></span></div></div>


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path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111213524
author_id: masktrixie
title: The Mothers of Dragons
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“We’ll go with the blonde,” you tell Blake – actually Sydney. “She’s practically a sitting target.”<br/>
<br/>
Blake nods, and you both walk over to the woman inside the SUV, granting you a better look at her. She's dressed in bright pink, her face is heavily made up and her blonde hair pure, brilliant and straight from a bottle. This is going to be interesting, at the very least. You’re spotted, and the driver lowers her window.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, you two!” The driver exclaims. “What’s up?”<br/>
<br/>
“I just remembered,” ‘Blake’ says, politely. “Do you have the weekend permit?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do I need one?” the woman says, a look of vacant surprise on her face. “Oh, shoot. I’ll only be a moment, do you think they’re going to mind?”<br/>
<br/>
“They’re clamping down,” you say, realizing where Sydney is going with this. “I saw coach Puente out here earlier. Probably has to check plates.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shoot,” the woman sighs. “I was literally gonna pick up Tom then get out of here.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s no problem,” Blake says. “It’s just a dumb form. C’mon, we’ll show you where to get one.”<br/>
<br/>
And just like that, your target hops out of her SUV, locks the door – but leaves the window up – and, handbag over her shoulder, looks ready to follow you two anywhere. You can’t believe how easy this is.<br/>
<br/>
“So, you on the team too, hun? I haven’t seen you on the field, I don’t think.” It takes a few seconds to realize that the blonde is addressing you, and you fall in beside her. She’s attractive, in a largely manufactured way, with hair dyed blonde, nails manicured to perfection and a dazzling smile like a magnesium flame. She’s petite, too, tottering around at around five foot – even with heels – which makes her movements seem short and wiggly rather than lithe and graceful as she walks. Her body is curvy though, with large breasts under the bright pink top and an ass that you can’t help but watch jiggle under its jeans. <br/>
<br/>
“Not exactly,” you say as you enter the building, trying to come up with a reason someone like you would be hanging around with the giant, muscular lunkheads of the football team.<br/>
<br/>
“Will’s the mascot,” Blake interjects, barely holding in a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
“We have a mascot?" the woman says, surprised. "Oh, is it a dragon? I bet that costume gets hot, huh? Especially when you do your dabbin’ and wormin’,” the woman pauses, and does her own, unique take on flossing. You laugh a little, and give Blake a signal to check the nearby bathrooms.<br/>
<br/>
“I got to take a leak,” he says quickly, departing your side while you continue your conversation. <br/>
<br/>
“So, I’m guessing your son’s on the team?”<br/>
<br/>
“Hell yes!” she beams, puffing her chest out. You can’t help but look down briefly, wondering if they’re real or fake. She doesn’t look old enough to have had kids, and her figure doesn’t have the usual mom fill-out. “I’m Tom’s mom. Mrs Schmitz. I know you boys aren’t doing too well this season, but we’re still really proud of what you’re doing. Tom puts in so much effort, I think his favorite day is Friday! Dragon Moms!” she raises her fist in the air.<br/>
<br/>
You smile, and a thought pops into your head. You had planned on creating a cult, but a cult still needs a purpose – a goal to achieve. Maybe, these Dragon Moms could be the answer. Magic, as the masks have taught you, is a powerful force. But can it influence the fates of the real world? Could it, for example, turn a high school football side into championship contenders? You've no idea how good Westside is and you don't really care either. But it’s such a small ask, and would make an ideal test...<br/>
<br/>
Your thought is interrupted by Blake stepping into the hall. He gives a brief nod, and you reach into the bag for the masks.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey,” Blake says, as a distraction, a quick look down the corridor to check nobody is in sight. “Mrs, uh…” he blanks out, instantly regretting the choice, but just moves on to cover his flub. “Do you know what Baphomet is?”<br/>
<br/>
“Bath Omelette?” the woman says, turning to address Blake but looking at him in confusion. “You mean like putting an egg in the bath?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” Blake says, walking over. “It’s alright. You’re going to know all about it soon enough. Now, Will!” You slam the mask on her face, catching her as she begins to slump. You can barely hold her up, and end up staggering her down on the floor. Then, wordlessly, you both scoop her up and drag her into the nearest bathroom, Blake’s muscles making everything far easier. Once inside, you lay her down.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright,” you say to ‘Blake’. “A little privacy?”<br/>
<br/>
“Why, Will?” Sydney retorts. “I’d kind of like to watch, see what happens.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s great and all,” you say, “but one of us needs to keep a lookout in the corridor. The last thing we need is for someone to suddenly need a piss and to find Tom Schmitz’s mom unconscious on the floor with two seniors standing over her, and for us to end up in jail.”<br/>
<br/>
“You and <i>Blake</i>," Sydney says, sticking his tongue out. "Sydney McGlynn's nowhere near here. And who’s Tom Schmitz? I don't think I have any classes with him.” <br/>
<br/>
“Hell if I know, he’s not in our year. Now get going. I’ll see you on the flip side.”<br/>
<br/>
Sydney grins and steps outside. Then you get on with your work, stripping clothes with disinterested, professional detachment. The minutes seem to last forever as you pace the stalls, thinking of everything that could go wrong. What if someone comes in and Blake can’t dissuade them? You find yourself sitting squat on one of the toilets, watching with worry.<br/>
<br/>
Once the mask appears, you quickly snatch it up, the floating name of DEVON LUCY SCHMITZ drifting on the blue interior. Then you take your already-prepared golem mask, slip it on the prone figure, and watch as the diminutive bombshell transforms into a lanky teen with tufts of beard and scraggy hair.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," he mutters. "You know how fuckin' weird it is to blank out and then wake up to see yourself staring down at you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No weirder than the reverse," you retort. "You know where you are? Know what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"What is this, a pop quiz?" He gives you a black, resentful look, then casts a glance at his fingers. He raises them up in horror, waving them at you. “What the fuck, dude!”<br/>
<br/>
You look with him. Glued to the beds are a set of plastic false nails, a glittery red white and blue in the shape of the star-spangled banner. You burst out laughing. It looks ridiculous.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck you! How the hell do these things come off?” you watch as the golem starts to tug at them, only to yelp as he almost rips off the nail underneath. “They’re on fast!”<br/>
<br/>
“We’ll figure it out later,” you say. “Right now I need to get into character.” Then, laying down, you take a deep breath, put the mask on and…<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh mercy did I slip! I’m such a ditz.</i> You arch your back from the cold floor, then feel it send a chill elsewhere, too. With horror, you realize you’re naked, and scramble for your clothes. Rolling to the side, you feel something large and heavy stop you, and it takes a brief moment to realize it’s your ample, and very <i>artificial,</i> breasts. You gulp in a breath, and try to compose yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<i>My name is Devon Michelson. Wait! No, silly. Schmitz!</i> only it isn’t. It’s just a disguise you’re wearing. <i>This isn’t really me. I’m that friend of Blake’s. Except that isn’t Blake, and they weren’t friends.</i> You grab your jeans and slide them on, wiggling your butt on the toilet floor, then haul on the pink top.<br/>
<br/>
“OK, Devon. Let’s get on up, huh?” You turn, and pull yourself up from the floor, brushing blonde tresses out of your eyes, and look straight into the row of mirrors above the sinks. Dye-bottle hair. In fact, not much is real – you run your tongue over your brilliant white veneers. The world feels strange, as if the bathroom fittings have grown, and it takes a few seconds to realize that they haven’t grown, but you’ve shrunk. <i>Oh, shoot, it's not easy bein' pocket-size.</i><br/>
<br/>
You straighten up, adjusting your posture, and pull your emergency lipstick out of the handbag resting nearby, rubbing your pout together to get it just-so. <i>Can’t go out without puttin’ my face on, now can I?</i> Finally, once you’re ready you step out into the hall. Blake is there with Will, helping him scrape off the glittery, gaudy tat fastened to his hands into a trash bin. It’s coming off, but in strips and clumps. Your golem looks thoroughly pissed.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, hi, Blake, Will, hons!” you beam chirpily. “Y’know, I don’t think I’m gonna worry about that permit after all, we should all probably get back to the car.” You pause, grin, and punch the air, the wedding band on your finger glistening in the hall light. “Dragon Moms!”</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135241
author_id: masktrixie
title: About Schmitz
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It’s freaky how easily this comes to you,” Sydney says, smiling with Blake's grin. “What’s the plan now? We got time for a little mischief?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sadly not, hun,” you say. “Tom’s gonna be out any minute. Then we’re gonna scoot into town for a supply run. I make wax melts, just a little hobby on the side. I do all kinds of smellies. Bath bombs, body butters. Y’know, girlie stuff.” You turn to Will. “And those nails ain’t meant to come off like that. Here’s what you’re gonna do: get some cotton soaked in acetone, put it on the nail to soak, then wrap it up in tin foil, like a roast. You got that?”<br/>
<br/>
Your golem furrows his brow. “This is so freaky,” he complains. “I get why we’re going for moms, but seeing you stand there like that, with… tits.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be jealous that you don’t get to play too,” Blake says, giving him a soft pat on the cheek that he reacts to as if he’s been slapped. Aw, the boy’s a wuss. No wonder he’s the mascot. “We got somewhere we can talk without anyone seeing us?”<br/>
<br/>
You gesture back to the bathroom. “Step into my office.” You instinctively you begin to waddle a little back where you came. “Will, hon, you stand guard. Later tonight, I’ll text you my address. Then I want you to load up everything from the elementary school, put it in a parcel, leave it in the mail box. I’ll pick it up.”<br/>
<br/>
“What, why?” he asks.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re moving base of operations,” you say with a grin. “I’ve got a whole room set aside for my crafts, strictly a no-boy zone. Thomas never takes much interest, and John knows better than to bother me when I’m working.” <i>John. </i>You say the word so easily, but your mind flushes at the thought of the widower you married. Devon’s affection is real, but at least partly paid for by the stream of gifts.<i> Whatever you want is yours, all you need to do is bat your eyes…</i><br/>
<br/>
The golem grumbles but complies, and you watch as he slouches back to stand guard while you and Sydney – Blake – slip back into the bathroom. <i>Boy’s got terrible posture. If he doesn’t sort that, he’ll need a chiropractor soon. Oh! I could recommend mine to him! </i>You’re barely out of sight when you feel Blake’s body sidle up, and as you spin around as it presses against you. A hush falls as he leans forward and kisses you hungrily, sucking deep on your lip. <i>Oh my goodness! </i>Devon’s taken aback, but you already feel a flush of warmth rising up on your breast as you grab the beauty and continue. Down below you feel a strange sensation, though – something incredibly wrong. You push her away and blink rapidly.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s the matter?” Sydney laughs. “Is she not into younger guys?”<br/>
<br/>
“Actually… I think… oh, mercy, I think I like that quite a lot,” you say, realizing the problem is very different. You take a breath, then fan yourself, even as you brush your blonde tresses back into place. “But you’ll smudge my face. And there’ll be plenty of time for fun later.”<br/>
<br/>
Sydney bursts out laughing. “Yes, there will. Welcome to womanhood, Will Prescott. Now you get to see how the other half lives. So what’s the plan?”<br/>
<br/>
Devon’s brain isn’t exactly genius-level, and there’s so many options it’s hard to contemplate them all. “For now, you’re gonna get home and out of your Blake costume. I’ll message you tonight once I’ve made a few more masks.” You smirk, reaching up to wipe your lipstick from Blake’s mouth. “They ain’t going to see us coming.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“How’d it go?” you beam as Thomas Schmitz slips into the passenger seat, a dour look on his face as he immediately starts looking at his cell.<br/>
<br/>
“Fine. Let’s go.” He barely gives you a second glance.<br/>
<br/>
“All buckled up?” You start the SUV up, listening to the roar of an engine Devon has absolutely no use for. “So what happened? Was it just a bit of school pep?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, something like that.” Thomas says. “C’mon, Devon. Let’s just go.” <i>Devon, never mom.</i> Technically, you aren’t his mom – dead now for the past 10 years. You’re only in your early 30s (35 is still early, right?), and he’s always been cool to you since you married his father three years ago. But that hasn’t dampened your attempts to connect. The car lurches, and makes a slow turn, before heading for the street. <br/>
<br/>
“You know, I was thinking of maybe doing some pulled pork tacos tonight. Bulk you up. Gotta pack on that muscle if you’re gonna turn the season around.”<br/>
<br/>
“It won’t 'turn round',” Tom sighs. “Look, I keep telling you: half the team is a joke.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, pish,” you say. “I was just sayin’ to the other moms that maybe you’ll get scouted. I know you lost, but honestly a little hard work and you can get some Ws, I’m sure. It’s all that Cameron Huber’s fault, if he didn’t get sacked half the time…”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s nothing to do with Huber!” Tom protests as you cross the Borman bridge. “I keep. Telling. You. Half the seniors are just burn-outs. They don’t pull their weight. And I don’t even play offense, I’m not even on the field with Huber.” He turns, looking out of the passenger window.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I think you just need to gel. And next year you’re gonna be a senior, so this season’s just experience for you anyway.” You puff out your chest. Devon Schmitz is excited at the idea of being senior ‘Dragon Mom’ next year. It’s almost like being head cheerleader – a position she never held, but always coveted.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, Devon,” Blake interrupts. “You’re going the wrong way.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t worry, I just have to do some errands, hon. I’ll get you back home in record time, don’t you fret.”<br/>
<br/>
“C’mon…” Tom sulks. “It’s Saturday. I just want to go home.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not like I’m making you do chores. We’ll be ten minutes, promise. You’re gonna help me reach the top shelf at the hardware store. I’ve got some new craft projects I’m going to start working on. Fair warning, though, according to the online tutorials I’ve been watchin’ the chemicals involved cause a bit of a stink.” You tilt your sunglasses back up on your nose. “Oh! And speaking of a stink and chores, you think you might clean up that swamp of a room? I can smell the gym socks from all the way down the hall…”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
The Schmitz residence is nestled comfortably in the middle of Acheson, almost halfway between the Masonic Cemetery and the old elementary school, albeit on the other side of State Avenue than your own neighborhood. The house itself is fairly typical, and reminds you a lot of your own. In fact, if you closed your eyes it could be, if it weren’t for the different colored garage door and the big, tacky sign in the garden. A flimsy placard, like a real estate sign or a politician’s campaign slogan, it proclaims the home of ‘Westside Dragons Safety #27 T. Schmitz’. You didn’t even know they made these things.<br/>
<br/>
Tom, still in a sulk for reasons unknown to you or Devon, vanishes to his room, and it’s 5:30pm by the time John Schmitz walks in, a man on the edge of 50 with peppered hair that Devon utterly adores. You give him a wave from the kitchen as you continue preparing a salsa for your tacos, and chat with him briefly about your days. Then he heads off and you get back to your homebody life. Every so often you catch sight of your reflection – in the window, or the hallway mirror – and pause, posing like you’re on a Martha Stewart cookery show. It’s so much fun.<br/>
<br/>
After dinner, you head out to the mailbox and retrieve your package – the book to go with the supplies you’ve picked up – and you squeal with excitement as you dart into your crafts room and set it down among your craft samplers, pots of glitter and even a little hotplate for melting wax. You almost immediately begin work on the mind band, holding it in place on Devon’s jeweller’s workbench that she uses for charm bracelets – as your ditzy mind confirms, Devon has a lot of hobbies to keep busy at home.<br/>
<br/>
You’ve got a few options for your next move. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so you’ll have your first chance to head to church and scout out the Dragon Moms. Your first move is to pick a new identity for Sydney, and you find yourself conjuring them up in your stolen mind, appraising them like you might look at a dress in Macy’s. <i>Whose body would be the perfect disguise?</i><br/>
<br/>
Devon sits with three others for each game without fail. The first, the leader, is Carly Hall, proud and fierce mom of Nathan and Kevin Hall. Neither of them have achieved much on the pitch this season, as far as Devon can recall, and sometimes Carly seems more invested in the game than they do. They’re just being teens, Devon’s mind reports. A bit of school spirit and they could turn the team around.<br/>
<br/>
Next up, bringing the noise, is Marta Nieves, mom of Ethan, the middle linebacker. A large, chubby woman usually in loose, flowing dresses, Marta usually brings food for the Dragon Moms, and you swear lights votive candles for victory. Last in the line is April Bridges, mother of James – a player whose impact on the game is so minimal Devon’s not even sure what position he plays. April a realtor and Devon's best friend: the two often have long, gossipy lunches together throughout the week. Any of them could be the perfect get – and both April and Carly will be at church tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
But there’s one option that pops into your head. If what Tom says is true, then around half the team could do with a little motivation. Maybe Sydney would like to take them as a brotherhood in the service of Baphomet, while you build your coven? Together, you could turn the Westside Dragons into a force... both from within and on the sidelines.<br/>
<br/>
You purse your borrowed lips and text Sydney your idea.</span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121352412
author_id: masktrixie
title: Realty Bites
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You smirk as you tap the name into the phone – with instructions on exactly how to make the switch. Then you return to making the masks and bands, humming quietly to yourself. By 10.30pm, a little late for Devon’s usual routine, one of your masks has turned a perfect, brilliant blue and you take it off the buffer, slipping the other on. Everything’ll be ready by tomorrow morning. Then you dart up to the bedroom, enjoying every second as you wipe off Devon’s makeup and feel the relief of unclogged pores, before slipping into her silk nightgown and joining John in bed to watch a late-night movie. You squeak a little as he pulls close, but soon, instinctively settle under his arm. You sigh contentedly, and wonder if…<br/>
<br/>
<i>Bzzzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzz.</i> Your eyes blink open, rapidly adjusting to the twilight of the room. Damn! You must have fallen asleep instantly. You’re curled up on Devon’s side of the bed, John sprawled out on his back, snoring hard and hogging the darn sheets like usual. Wearily you reach over to your nightstand and swat the alarm. You look at the time: too early for a Sunday. And yet it’s time to rise: Devon Schmitz has a busy day ahead.<br/>
<br/>
You get up and head downstairs, feet arching against the chill of the stone floor of the kitchen, and open up the fridge to get your smoothie – a green vat of goop that Devon is convinced will help her keep her figure. Thomas comes in and gives you a brief nod, his eyes bloodshot and hair matted against the side of his head as he grabs a granola bar then, scratching his ass, returns to his room to get a few hours of whatever game he’s into on his console. Once he’s gone, you pull out your phone.<br/>
<br/>
<i>We on? </i>you tap.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Rdy 2 go. I’ll tell Will.</i><br/>
<br/>
You smirk, and saunter into Devon’s crafts room. There, you check the masks and bands are ready, package them up and make your way across the manicured lawn to the mailbox, where you deposit them for Will Prescott to collect, complete with some paste for Sydney to use with her hairs. Then, stretching a little as you scoop up the paper for John, you saunter back into the house and plan a lovely, relaxing morning shower where you can explore Devon’s body without interruption.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
A few hours later, you’re sat in your Sunday best – a powder blue sun dress complemented by white pearl necklace and white clutch – listening to the sermon. Just sitting there as Devon, blonde hair perfectly coiffured and makeup done with a level of finesse few else of the congregation can achieve, gives you a thrill. You are the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Every other person here is convinced you’re Devon Schmitz, a ditzy blonde with a sweet heart of gold – not a key part of the congregation, but friendly, effervescent and kind. <i>And, little do they know, now a cultist.</i> As you rise for the hymn, you glance over at April Bridges and plan her downfall. An older woman hovering around 40, April’s in a constant battle against weight, her pear figure (Devon’s description) naturally inclined to add a little too much to her hips. <br/>
<br/>
She has a wide, cheery face with crow’s feet beginning to emerge, and a small piggish nose which causes her cheeks to roll up again when she smiles. Her shoulder-length dark hair his tonsured for volume, and sweeps up and down. She’s in a business suit, which functions perfectly well for church… but you know the real reason for it. Your plan is already in motion. You open your mouth, yelling out the hymn as Devon would. You haven’t got a great voice, but you make up with it by throwing everything your diminutive stature has to give at it.<br/>
<br/>
After church is the usual gossip. You manage to overhear Heather Brown and the pastor’s wife discuss a recipe for low-calorie key lime pie that you instinctively record mentally, and discuss making some jam tarts for an upcoming bake sale. Your real target, however, is April.<br/>
<br/>
"You up for some lunch today?" you ask casually as you approach her. "I think I got a coupon for Ben’s BBQ. We could make it a table of six?" The Schmitz family always eats out for Sunday lunch. Devon isn’t the greatest cook – although she can hold her own with simple stuff and baked goods – so it’s a weekly treat for you and John, and a chance for Thomas to eat something that isn’t grabbed from the freezer and nuked in the microwave.<br/>
<br/>
April shakes her head, pinching her lips tight in sadness. "Although those babyback ribs do sound good, I can’t, unfortunately. I’ve got a viewing this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"On a Sunday?" you ask, feigning surprise. "Can’t you ask them to reschedule?"<br/>
<br/>
Again, a shake of the head. "No. Would you believe it, they only called me last night? Single father and his daughter, trying to find a place while she’s starting high school and currently living out of that grubby motel down by the research park. Said they could only do Sunday, what with her sporting commitments, so I’m showing them a few properties within spitting distance of Westside. After that I’ve got a bit of a lazy day planned, but Kyle’s taking the kids fishing."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Even better. </i>"Shame it ain’t a son," you comment on the house hunters, "or we could have had a late draft for the football team, huh? Y’know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe us moms should get together sometime, see what we can do to light a fire under the boys. Work our magic a little."<br/>
<br/>
April smiles. "It’s gonna take more than magic to turn this team around," she says. "More like divine intervention. Or a pact with you-know-who." She points down, and you both give a weak smile. "Rain check on those ribs, OK? Message me."<br/>
<br/>
You watch as she walks away, a sinister smile creeping into Devon’s usual toothy beam.<i> Funny you should say that, April. A pact like that is just what we have in mind.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Your afternoon is a lazy affair. Thomas is off with his friends, and John seems content to loaf on the sofa and let the thick, smoky BBQ taste go down. You run through a few household chores, including the laundry – Thomas still hasn’t cleaned his room, but at least he put a horde of unwashed gym socks in the basket – as you kill time. It’s an agonizing wait. You want to know how it went! If Sydney made her switch! But it’s not until 3pm that you get a buzz on your phone… from April.<br/>
<br/>
<i>In twn doing a little shoppng. Wld u like to grab a coffee? :D</i><br/>
<br/>
You tap an answer in Devon’s usual manner, complete with casual use of Autocorrect. <i>Sure, would love to. What are we meeting? *Where.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Koffee Kauldron? ;)</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>On my way</i><br/>
<br/>
You grin, and step into the den. "John, hun, I’m just goin’ to run an errand in town. It’s OK if we put back dinner for later?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," your husband says, barely looking up. "Still stuffed from lunch anyway. Have fun, honey."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes gleam. Your heart races. And it doesn’t stop even as you walk into Koffee Kauldron and head over to your best friend, who is nursing an Americano on the ‘Mercury’ table. She rises and gives you an affectionate, friendly hug. "So glad you could come!" she beams. "I was just about to pop to the ladies before I reorder."<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I could powder my nose too," you say, following her as you make your way through the café, to the small bathroom out back. It’s only a single toilet, and you hesitate a moment, glancing back to make sure nobody’s looking in your direction before you both step inside. Then you slide the door closed… and April shoves you against the wall. In a matter of seconds your tongues are entwined, fingers clawing into each other’s backs, bodies gyrating against each other in wild passion.<br/>
<br/>
"Uhmmm," your ‘best friend’ grins. "Wow, Will, she’s so sensitive. And repressed. I’ve been wanting to scratch that itch for hours." You hold her on the side of her head, rubbing Devon’s hand slowly down her neck. Devon enjoys it, and her catalog of experience suggests most of her partners do, too.<br/>
<br/>
"How’d the switch go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just like you planned. I turned up with my stepfather, got her to show us upstairs, and sprung the mask on her in the master bedroom. As soon as I was done I ordered the golem out of there – like I was going to let that son of a bitch see me naked – and put the masks on." She grins. "I didn’t expect fake-Sydney to be such a pervert. She was watching me while I changed, soaking in the new body. Speaking of which… what do you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"April Bridges?" you say. "Kinda hot, for a woman pushing 40."<br/>
<br/>
"Pushed past," Sydney says. "But she’s perfect for the coven." She swoops in for another kiss. "Will, you’re incredible at this. We’re going to have everyone under our control by game night on Friday. Who’s next, hmm?"<br/>
<br/>
You check your makeup in the mirror, and straighten a loose hair. "Let’s talk at the table," you say. "Best get back in character, April." You resume Devon’s pert posture.<br/>
<br/>
"Easy for you," Sydney says. "I’m still not getting her memories."<br/>
<br/>
"Relax," you say, opening the door and nodding for you both to slip back out. "She told me the rest of the family have gone fishing. You only have to play out the evening."<br/>
<br/>
You return to the table, call the waitress over (it’s self-service, but there are perks to playing an oblivious mom) and order drinks for yourselves. Then you answer Sydney’s question.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyhoos," you chirp. "Who’s next? Well… we’ve got Marta and Carly. Marta’s a big, strappin’ girl, while Carly’s kinda bossy. Guess you have to be, with two football boys, though!" You take a sip of your coffee, feeling the foam bubble on the top of your lip. "So which one do we get next?"<br/>
<br/>
Sydney shrugs. "I don’t mind," she says, looking at you with a gleam in her eye that doesn’t belong to April Bridges. "I’m just enjoying the ride. And we’re all going to be in this together eventually, aren’t we?"</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111213524121
author_id: masktrixie
title: Marta for the Cause
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You caress April Bridges’ face, wrapped up with her on the sofa of her house. It’s one of those seeming endless corner sofas that seat five comfortably, and you and Sydney have taken full advantage of it, stretching yourselves out. Your petite body is practically swallowed in the leather – and thankfully wipe-clean – finish. After your gossip at the Koffee Kauldron, you decided to make the most of April’s empty house for a little boyfriend/girlfriend – or rather girlfriend/girlfriend – time.<br/>
<br/>
“This is amazing,” Sydney giggles. “I’m starting to get her memories now. It’s sketchy, but if I were April, and you were really Devon…” she sticks her tongue out. “They’d be watching Hallmark. Tell me this is more fun.”<br/>
<br/>
“It is,” you say, running a finger down and across her ample breasts. “I knew it would be, although I didn’t imagine it would be this great.”<br/>
<br/>
“And once we get even more, just think of it!” Sydney says. “So, you have a plan for this… Marta, did you say?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. We’ll grab her tomorrow mornin’, she posts where she is on the Dragon Moms group pretty much constantly so we’ll know if she’s free. Devon doesn’t work except her online stuff, so it depends on whether you can get out of work.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll have you know I work commission. I don’t ‘get out’, I ‘opt in’.” Sydney retorts, before suddenly widening her eyes and covering her mouth. “That wasn’t me!” she giggles, flexing back girlishly despite her mature body. “That was April! I think her personality is starting to surface.”<br/>
<br/>
“Took long enough,” you say. “Want me to help out a little?” Sydney cocks an eyebrow as you disentangle yourself, straightening up your blue dress and adjusting your pearls. You then step out of the room, only to walk in mimicking Devon’s gait perfectly. “So we gonna watch this movie or what, hun?” you chirp, clapping your hands a little as you slide back next to her on the sofa. “Ooh! Do you have any popcorn I can microwave up, make us a little snack?”<br/>
<br/>
Sydney laughs. “I really don’t know how you’re so good at this, Will,” she laughs. You just look bemused.<br/>
<br/>
“Good at what, Apes?” you say, reaching for the remote. She pounces on you, and you let out a scream. “Wait, what the heck are you doin’! April! Get of’a me! Ap-ril…” you squirm, playing the surprised woman fending off her best friend’s amorous advances. It’s pure roleplay… and if anything, the imposture just seems to turn Sydney on even more.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You’re unusually upbeat on Monday morning. Normally you’d be dragging your ass to Westside and half-dozing your way through ‘til lunch, or worried about Kirkham’s stated intention to beat the ever-living crap out of you in front of Sydney McGlynn. But such concerns aren’t part of Devon Schmitz’s world, and instead you’re focused on giving yourself a manicure, watching your nails shaped into delicate, attractive, unglossed points. In real life Devon would sport semi-permanent acrylics, but after your incident back at school you decide to keep them natural in case you decide to swap identities. Then your phone buzzes: it’s your target, saying she’s just arriving. You hop up and make your way downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
“Marta!” you yell, waving as you open the front door and usher her inside. You already knew from Devon’s memories that Marta Nieves was a big woman, but you didn’t really have any appreciation of whether that was Devon being short or not. Now, smiling and waving to you in the flesh, you can see just what big means. She’s comfortably over 250 pounds, her large frame covered in an oversized, baggy black dress with white flowers on it, and her smiling face giving way to a double, perhaps even triple chin.<br/>
<br/>
“Wow, I love the house,” she beams. This is the first time you’ve ever invited her over. “And it’s so kind of you to invite me. Normally I have to pick up my stuff at Northgate. I hate ordering online not knowing what you’re going to get.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well,” you wave your hand in mock offence, “if you’d wanted some scents you should have come to me! You know I’ve been looking for a guinea pig for some of my latest creations. You don’t get five star reviews on Etsy without some product feedback.”<br/>
<br/>
She laughs. “Half of what I buy is is just for refumigating the house. Someone needs to come up with a manual for dealing with teenage boys. I think half of my day is spent just making my home liveable.” She bumps lightly against you. “Don’t they realize what they <i>smell like</i>?”<br/>
<br/>
You laugh. “Tell me about it. One of the reasons I started working on wax melts – apart from lookin’ and smellin’ divine – was Thomas. I do not envy whoever shares a room with him in college.” You let the larger companion through the doorway, and direct her toward the craft room. She takes her time, drinking in the Schmitz residence with her eyes, and you feel a beam of Devon’s pride at how tidy she manages to keep everything.<br/>
<br/>
“So, what’s this secret project?”<br/>
<br/>
 “Easier just to show you! C’mon, I got scents galore.” You make your way into the craft room. “We got… Sex and the Citrus; Vanilla Spice, Spice Baby; Oops, Acai Did It Again; my bestseller, which is just called Pine Cone but everyone buys it; and my latest creation. Mask Surprise.” You wince at the name. <i>Really, that’s the best you can come up with?</i><br/>
<br/>
“Ooh, mysterious!” Marta says, stepping inside the room. It’s all you can do not to yell ‘surprise!’ as you swing the mask on her face. She topples instantly, legs giving way and stumbling straight toward you. You desperately try to catch her, but Devon’s body just don’t have the ability, and instead collapses too, pinning you under the heft of the larger woman. Grunting, you the dead weight off your legs and stagger upright. Then you text April – or rather, Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
<i>New recruit. Come by when you can.</i> <br/>
<br/>
You get a response, terse and to the point. <i>With clients. Be there in 1 hour. Lol.</i> Somehow, April still thinks ‘lol’ means ‘lots of love’. At least it means Sydney is fully invested in her character.<br/>
<br/>
You look down at the sprawled Marta. This is the first golem you’ve created where you’re going to program them to do something outside of the norm. Caleb acted like Caleb; Blake like Blake; Sydney’s stepdad apparently behaved like him. You wonder what Marta will be like once you tell her that she’s converting to a new religion. Likewise, you wonder how Devon would take it, too. Having lived her life for two days, you know she’s a fundamentally nice person, trying to be a good mom and taking an active interest in her stepson’s life. Corrupting her for Sydney’s plan – a plan you’re not even sure works – just feels wrong. Importantly, though, you’ve now got three of the Dragon Moms under masks. With you and Sydney, that would make five: enough for a pentagram. In theory, you could stop here. But a few more couldn’t hurt, could it? You’d like to grab Carly Hall, at least… if only because your Devon brain is curious how she mastered such a fantastic eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
But, while you’re waiting, you feel a pang of mischief well up inside you. You can program your golems to behave however you want, right? What if you swapped bodies here and now. Sure, becoming Marta would be akin to stepping into a fat suit – it’s not a body that you’d desire or feel an urge for in any way. But wouldn’t it be hilarious for Sydney to arrive, convinced that you’re the golem, and Devon is you? The imposture wouldn’t last long – Devon’s too much of a ditz and judging by previous experience the golems only have their mind band’s skillset. But for a few minutes, it could be a good prank to play on your girlfriend before you work out what to do... and it will change your approach when it comes to collecting the fourth and final Dragon Mom: their leader, Carly Hall.</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112135241211
author_id: masktrixie
title: Supersize You
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You stare in the bathroom mirror, unable to tear away your eyes from your cheeks. You keep tugging at them, watching them pull out, expecting them to stretch like taffy. You prod a hand up into the fleshy part of your neck, shifting it over, before reaching up and squeezing the massive weight of breasts and belly hanging below, watching with amusement as it wobbles. Marta, however, would feel no amusement, just an acceptance that this is how life is.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Three</i>. You’re flustered by momentary panic, before you’re able to breathe easy again. Maya moved to Chicago (and you had your weekly Facetime with her on Saturday); Lucas goes to Keyserling but makes an almost active attempt to avoid coming home unless he needs his clothes washed; and Ethan, technically the baby of the family, is a hulking wrestler and footballer. <i>And mother of God does my little angel smell.</i> <br/>
<br/>
You straighten your hair, black and wiry, pinned up into a tight bun and flanked by large golden hoop earrings, pat your flowing dress and walk back to the new Devon Schmitz. She gives you a warm smile.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, hon. So, what’s the plan?” she says, brightly. Inwardly, you wince. You already told her the plan when she woke and you sent her to get her makeup in order.<br/>
<br/>
“When April gets here, this is important: her name is really Sydney. She’s just pretending to be April. And your name, although you’re pretending to be Devon, is Will.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will?” She says, taking it in, and screwing her face up a little. “So, I’m a guy then? I guess that’s why I was kissin’ and a huggin’ with April, or was it Sydney? That was just wrong on so many levels.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, you like it now. Got that?”<br/>
<br/>
“Right, Marta! ‘Cause you kinda look like Marta, boss, I’m jus’ sayin’.”<br/>
<br/>
“You can refer to me as Marta. But don’t call me boss until I say otherwise. The aim is to trick Sydney into thinking that I’m you, and…”<br/>
<br/>
You’re halfway explaining the plan again when there’s a ring at the door. “Oh! I’ll get it!” Devon says, springing past you. You take a deep breath and try and get into character. A few moments later, April Bridges comes striding through the door. <br/>
<br/>
“Guess who just made her first house sale!” Sydney laughs. “That went quicker than expected, so I came straight over.” She looks at Devon. “How’s our new recruit taking the news?”<br/>
<br/>
“Your new recruit can answer for herself,” you say, hands on thighs. “I still don’t really know what’s going on, April. Do you mind explaining yourself?”<br/>
<br/>
Sydney slides a hand across Devon’s waist. “It’s easy, Marta. From now on you’re going to be a servant of Baphomet. You’ll pretend to be the same woman you always were. But deep down, when we meet, you’ll be joining us in fun rituals. Sounds good, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“And how’s that different to before?” You say. “Don’t you remember last summer, where we all had a little too much wine, and things got a little out of hand…”<br/>
<br/>
For a moment, April’s face looks taken aback, as if she’s discovering she hasn’t quite mastered the memories she thought were embedded. Then she bursts out in the widest smile. “Will? You swapped, didn’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. “Well, there’s no fooling you, is there? I thought I’d get at least five minutes of fun.” <br/>
<br/>
“Oh, we can have five minutes of fun,” April says, advancing. “Jesus. Look at her. She’s going to be so interesting to pretend to be. When we were discussing things on Friday, I never really saw all the possibilities! But now, looking at you – looking at <i>her</i> I’m starting to get it. We can be <i>anyone</i>, Will! Big, small, fat, thin. Whoever!” She walks up and tries to embrace you, only for Marta’s figure to make it harder. You have to actively lean forward before your lips touch.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, get a room, you two,” Devon says, only half-jokingly. “You may be the boss and this may be Sydney wearin’ some kind of April disguise, but it’s still my house. And this is a Christian house, which I’ll have you appreciate keeps intimacy for the bedroom.”<br/>
<br/>
You turn your head away from April, and look Devon in the eye. “No,” you say, surprised how dark the words are that come to your lips. “This <i>was</i> a Christian house. Why don’t you go get us some coffee?” <br/>
<br/>
At that, Sydney wraps her stolen identity even closer to yours, the heat from her chest causing you to sweat. You look her in the eyes, and realize she doesn’t see fat Marta Nieves. She sees only Will Prescott, just as you see only Sydney McGlynn. And finally, you’re not intimidated that such a beautiful girl, a gymnast who could have any boy at Westside, has chosen a loser like you. Because, deep in April Bridges’ dark brown eyes, you can see only adoration. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
“We still need two more,” Sydney says, sipping on her coffee. You’ve set April to go about her day, and she’s off making wax melts. Already, Sydney has plans for that, hastily suggesting that you could start using some recipes she knows to ship off hexes across the continental US (and beyond, if people pay extra for postage). According to Sydney, the wax could also be used in rituals, yet another conduit to unlock the true potential of the magic you wield.<br/>
<br/>
“Do we?” you counter. “We’ve got Marta, April and Devon. With Sydney and Will, that makes five.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will and Sydney don't count,” she says. “Five recruits. Then we can think of getting another five, for an even more powerful brotherhood – and not necessarily moms. We can think about recruiting some of the team, or maybe the coaching staff.” She looks at turns to you. “Doesn’t it feel weird being in that body?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not really,” you say. “The weight’s a little different, but Marta doesn’t know any better so my mind just kind of goes with it. It feels like I’ve always been carrying around 100 extra pounds.” You poke the paunch across your chest. “This seems normal to me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Huh,” Sydney says. “Anyway, we still need two more. Carly Hall’s a definite. While driving over here, I started making a mental list – April’s idea, really. It’s the next candidate I’m not sure about.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who are your options?” Now Marta, you simply don’t have any idea. She’s a jolly woman who shouts for her baby Ethan, but beyond the ‘Dragon Mom’ group she’s fallen into – and barrages with endless, tired memes in their group chat – she doesn’t really socialize with any of them.<br/>
<br/>
“At first I thought Cameron Huber’s mom,” Sydney says. “April doesn’t know her name, though, or much about her at all. But her position as mom of the quarterback means we’ve got the best chance to influence him: draw a chalk pentagram under his bed, perhaps. The other option is,” you watch as she scowls, “April’s worried that her son is falling under the influence of someone called Eric?”<br/>
<br/>
“Erik Carstairs,” you grumble. "With a K." You know enough about that jerk from your life as Will Prescott to avoid him. “So, Carstairs’ mom is a shout. I don’t know where they live, though, or if they’re rich or poor.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, it’s an option,” Sydney says, swigging her coffee as April would. “We could always take a step back. Mrs O’Brien? If I remember from Blake’s mind – it’s kind of a fog now – she’s a single mom who manages a bank. Wow, Will! Just imagine the funds we’d be able to get if we have a <i>bank manager</i> approving our loans.”<br/>
<br/>
“But,” you add, “she’s a single mom. Do you really want to have to manage Blake O’Brien and his sister, er, whatsherface?” You have no idea, but you swear she’s one of the sophomores. <br/>
<br/>
“I wasn’t planning on,” Sydney says. “I quite like being April Bridges, actually. My son’s well behaved at home, my job’s really fun…” she leans over. “And my husband’s got a huge cock he isn’t afraid to use.”<br/>
<br/>
You bat her away. She rolls back, careful not to spill her coffee, and laughs. “Oh c’mon Will, don’t be jealous. It’s just part of the disguise. Seriously though, don’t think you have to live as any of these people. You don’t have to stay as Marta if you don’t want to.”<br/>
<br/>
“Actually, I think I’m going to keep it up as her for a while,” you say. “She’s an incredible cook, and as you can tell, not afraid to eat. Plus she’s just so… I dunno. Cozy.”<br/>
<br/>
April’s lips curl into a smile. “All right. Mrs Huber. Mrs Carstairs. Mrs O’Brien. Anyone else I’m missing?” <br/>
<br/>
“There’s one idea. But I don’t know if it crosses a line.”<br/>
<br/>
Sydney tilts April’s head. “Will, this whole experience is about a system shock. It’s about crossing lines and breaking taboos. That’s what makes it <i>work</i>. Who are you thinking about? Tell me.”<br/>
<br/>
You chew Marta’s lip. “I’m thinking about the Mitchells,” you say quietly. “Sean’s mom. She doesn’t come to games anymore, though. Not since…”<br/>
<br/>
“Not since her son Taylor died.” Here’s a pause, and Sydney sets her coffee to the side, then rolls back, cackling a little. “She could be so perfect! Oh, wow. Just think of the potency of all that grief, being channelled into our cause! The raw emotion, Will, it’d feed whatever spell we cast! She could be perfect!” <br/>
<br/>
She rolls to the side, and pushes against your arm, slipping a hand underneath your baggy dress. “It’s brilliant, Will. Utterly brilliant. Just like every decision you’ve made so far has been. So I’m going to let you pick. I want Carly Hall – she’s going to be mine. But you can have whoever we choose to complete our pentagram. And then we can let the magic begin.”</span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111121354
author_id: masktrixie
title: Beverly Hills Cult
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You take a deep breath. You’ve been in this town virtually all your life, and what do you have to show for it? Well, besides a book of magic and an insanely hot girlfriend? You’d miss your family, of course, and your friends. But you’re about to step into someone else’s life anyway – and it’s hardly like they’re going to notice that you’ve gone.<br/>
<br/>
“Screw it,” you say. “If we’re going to do this, why the hell should we stay in Saratoga Falls? If we’re going to start a cult, we might as well do it with the rich and famous. Let’s move to Beverly Hills.”<br/>
<br/>
Sydney blinks for a moment. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“You heard me,” you say. “Why are we only thinking about this one-horse town? You want a new life, dream bigger. I know a cult in the heart of Hollywood or whatever isn’t exactly original, but…”<br/>
<br/>
Sydney raises a hand, leaning back a little. Then, slowly, a smile forms. “Will! It’s brilliant! We’d be following in the footsteps of some of the greatest practitioners ever. Jack Parsons, and…” she begins reeling off names that mean nothing to you. You watch her lips, and wish they were kissing you.<br/>
<br/>
“So that’s a yes?” you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney smiles, and moves closer to you, pushing her nose to the side of yours. Suddenly your vision is filled with her eyes, and staring face to face, so close you swear you can hear her heartbeat, you can’t help but feel you’ve given the right answer. “Whatever you say, Will,” she says. “This town was always too small for someone like you.” <br/>
<br/>
“Do you know who you want to be?” you ask, feeling your pulse quicken. <br/>
<br/>
Sydney tilts her head, blonde hair curling and pushing up as the strands rest on her shoulder. “Will,” she says quietly, “I can be anyone you want me to be. A movie star. A fashion model. A rich, bored socialite with only one thing on her mind…” She leans in plants a soft kiss, then chews slowly on your lip. “I’ll be your deepest fantasy.”<br/>
<br/>
“If you wanted, you could be the movie star,” you mumble. “I could be a producer, cast you as an undiscovered ingénue. We could get you an Oscar.”<br/>
<br/>
Sydney kisses you again, slow. Your hands wrap around her. “I don’t want fame, Will,” she whispers. “I want…” you don’t hear the next word. Your mind is too filled with the future for the now.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You lick your lips. The air feels dry. Dirtier, somehow. The colors you are used to back in Saratoga Falls, those leafy greens and burnt oranges of Fall, are replaced by a seemingly endless sea of beige. You’re staring out from a raised highway, looking out for miles until the world fades away into a shimmering haze, and all you can see are identical houses, identical streets and chain link fences. Ahead, though, a cluster of skyscrapers seem to beckon you, before you veer off on a different freeway, funnelled north in the twisting, turning spaghetti of the Los Angeles roads.<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t believe we did this,” you mutter. Next to you, wearing oversized darkened shades, the girl with movie star looks turns and beams at you. <br/>
<br/>
“I can’t either,” she says, nudging you a little. “I can’t believe what’s coming next, either. This is going to be so much fun, Will. And what we’re going to create will be so beautiful.”<br/>
<br/>
You left Saratoga Falls eight hours and a lifetime ago. You still can’t believe you convinced Caleb to cover for you with your parents, saying you were going camping together and would be back on Sunday. In reality, you caught an evening flight from the small municipal airport and headed to one of the big city hubs, where you flew west until only the Pacific Ocean was in your way. Now, in a cab, you’re headed to a world you’ve only seen on TV.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney dealt with the tickets, and all you had to do was turn up with your driver’s license and a single bag. Within are four masks and one very special book. The sun has risen, it’s early morning on a Saturday in LA, and you feel like you could do anything.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, can you pull over there?” Sydney says to the cab driver. She pays with cash, and you wonder for a moment where she got so much. Her controlled step-father, perhaps. Not that it matters. If all goes to plan, it’s not like you’re going to need to worry about money ever again. <br/>
<br/>
Stepping out, you blink in the morning sun, barely stifling a yawn. “Too early,” you mutter. You didn’t sleep on the flight, and the city you’ve arrived in doesn’t seem to have fully woken up either.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s why I stopped here,” Sydney says, flicking her hair back and pointing to a nearby coffee shop. “C’mon, we’ve got some planning to do.”<br/>
<br/>
You nod, glancing around. The coffee house looks identical to just about every other one you’ve ever seen, but the shops around it are markedly different. Words like Burberry, Louis Vuitton and Dior jump out in shimmering metal. Inside, mannequins are dressed in clothes that cost more than your truck. You’re on Rodeo Drive. <i>The</i> Rodeo Dri…<br/>
<br/>
“C’mon!” Sydney says, tugging you gently. You nod, and follow into the café, sinking into a booth at the back, bag tucked firmly and securely under your arm. You’re almost certain it’s conspicuous that you’re holding it too tight, but right now both of your futures are tied into it. You’ve almost dozed off when Sydney places a piping hot cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks,” you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
“No, thank <i>you</i>, Will,” Sydney says. She squeezes herself. “Los Angeles, Will! Beverly Hills! Aren’t you excited?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure,” you say, blowing on your coffee. “But I’d be just as excited after I got some sleep. Can’t we check into a hotel for a few hours?”<br/>
<br/>
“Since when do hotels let you check in before midday?” Sydney says. “Decent ones, I mean. And there’s no way I’m spending another day in somewhere that isn’t five star.” She smiles at you, and blows on her coffee. “Besides, we need to make our move. You thought about how we’re going to do this?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod. You’ve spent pretty much every evening after school – and most of your free periods too – brushing up on your options while you’ve waited for today. With Sydney, you’ve pulled together a list of the rich and famous you’d love to become. The problem, you quickly realized, is that neither of you had a clue how to get to anyone on the list. Instead, you’ve come up with a list of people who might be a good ‘in’ to the world you desire.<br/>
<br/>
It wasn’t hard to find them on Google. The first option is simple. Johnny Gregson is a young, irritating reporter for some cheesy Hollywood website. You’re not sure how you’d get to him – a fake story, perhaps – but if you could, you should be able to use his contacts list to arrange a short interview with someone interesting.<br/>
<br/>
The next option is just down the road. Dr Miriam Alpin is the shrink to the stars – less a psychiatrist, more a lifestyle guru who advocates reiki healing and steaming uncomfortable body parts. Her practice is on Rodeo, and while her client list is confidential, you imagine most of Beverly Hills is in therapy for one reason or another; you’re sure to find someone fun. <br/>
<br/>
The last option is one that Sydney found, after some heavy research. It turns out that rich assholes love to spend their money on redecorating, and hire an endless list of artists, Fung Shui experts and architects to remodel their houses and one-up their rivals. After an extensive search, she found one face that she hinted it might be fun to keep in the coven, rather than just as a way to transfer into your new homes. She’s a mature woman, a little white in her hair at the temples, with dark skin and a warm, friendly face. Her name is Kali Valentine.</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111213542
author_id: masktrixie
title: The Doctor Is In
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Mr Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You look up from the sofa, the stylish, refined decor all around you. Alpin's space is calculated to give her clients a sense of ease, and that means both making them feel they're stepping into a world of money and into a sanctuary where all the answers will be revealed to them. To whit, you have the comfortable sofa and the leather chair, and the pretty, pert secretary dressed in an immaculate suit whose main job is to welcome guests and look as though she's needed. The white walls, uplit in places but with a generous helping of natural light, are covered in curios and items that seem to have a point and a purpose, but in reality are just there for the decor. Little worry dolls from Guatemala or Nicaragua; a selection of wooden masks that might be from Africa or might be from Pottery Barn; a noh mask that's from Japan next to some kind of symbol from the Eastern religions - perhaps Hindu. <br/>
<br/>
You stand. "Yeah, uh, that's me," you say. Of course it's you - there's no one else in the office. The secretary, a beautiful girl with Afro curls and mocha skin whose name-plate reads 'Callie', barely bats an eye as you rise, backpack over your shoulder, and follow Dr Miriam Alpin into her office space. <br/>
<br/>
Alpin's a woman around 50, but she still has the good looks that come from natural beauty and looking after yourself. She's dressed in a neat pant suit with white blouse, her tawny hair, full of volume, resting on her shoulders, around a face that seasoned with slight wrinkles and warmed by tenderness. Her lips are full, and a pair of high-end, clear-framed glasses are perched on her nose. <br/>
<br/>
"Please," she says, in a voice that resonates with calm trust, a slight European – German? – hint adding a touch of reassuring authority. "Take a seat."<br/>
<br/>
You do so. The office is just like the outer section - only with less lighting, more soft darkness, and far more trinkets that are probably meant to inspire something. You set the rucksack down next to you. <br/>
<br/>
"So," Alpin begins, smiling again. She probably takes you for one of the Beverly Hills teen pack, the misfit kids who don't conform and their parents can't accept that, maybe, they don't want a life of fake tan and insincerity. "Will. May I call you Will? As this is our first session together, there won't really be much diving into the psyche. Instead, we're just going to talk, OK? So, why don't you begin with why you think you're here."<br/>
<br/>
You blow out your cheeks in thought. "Wow, straight on to the big one, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
Alpin half-smiles, taking out a notepad. "It seems the best place to start."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, all right. I guess it started a few months ago. I started developing an interest in the occult. You know, magic, spells, that kind of thing.” You notice she’s writing, but the eye contact with you never breaks. “And I guess that’s really why I’m here. When things started to ramp up. When my girlfriend and I begun to take an interest in Baphomet.”<br/>
<br/>
“Baphomet?” Alpin says. “As in the devil?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, it’s more of a way to invoke things,” you say, explaining. “Sex magic, mostly.”<br/>
<br/>
“With your girlfriend?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sydney, yeah. We’re joint leaders of our coven, or brotherhood. We haven’t really decided on that, yet.”<br/>
<br/>
Alpin looks serious, folding her legs a little. “And is that something you believe in, Will? Magic, and the ability to cast spells?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, definitely,” you reply with a nod. “It takes work, but with the right spell, you could be just about anyone. You just need a mask, to steal their image. Then you can put it on and poof! Change into them. We were thinking of using it to start a secret cult, right here in Beverly Hills.”<br/>
<br/>
Alpin’s posture changes. There’s a nervousness, now. A little <i>why the hell has this person slipped through and made my client list.</i> “Will,” she begins. “This isn’t the usual thing I deal with in a session. Typically we explore feelings that are more grounded in reality. The idea that magic works, and this talk of starting a cult… I’m beginning to get the feeling I’m not best suited to your therapeutic needs.”<br/>
<br/>
You frown. “Therapeutic needs? No, doctor. I’m here because I want you to join the cult. I want you to use your influence to expand us, here in Beverly Hills.”<br/>
<br/>
At this point she straightens in her chair. She’s on edge. Worried. Who can blame her? You’re talking madness, after all. “Will, I’m afraid to disappoint you but…”<br/>
<br/>
“I wasn’t asking,” you say, voice level, even as you reach into the bag to take out the mask. “In fact, you’re not just going to be part of the cult. I’m going to take over your life. I’m going to <i>be</i> Miriam Alpin.”<br/>
<br/>
You’ve got to give her credit: Miriam Alpin is no idiot. The moment you start your sinister walk, she’s out of the chair, bolting to the door, hitting the lights. “Callie!” she yells, calling to her assistant. “Callie, I need help!”<br/>
<br/>
The assistant rushes into the room almost immediately, opening the door, causing Alpin to stumble a little. She looks concerned, looks over at you, advancing with the mask. And Alpin is pushing to get away, out of the door. “Call the police, I think he’s having some kind of serious episode!” she manages to blurt…<br/>
<br/>
Before Callie grabs her hands, spinning her around, holding her firm as you continue your advance. <br/>
<br/>
“Join us,” she manages to say, before the mask is pushed on Alpin’s face, and she slumps to the ground. <br/>
<br/>
“Nice work, <i>Callie</i>,” you say with a smirk. The assistant finishes laying Miriam Alpin on the ground, and gives a slight courtesy. <br/>
<br/>
“You’re welcome, Will. Or, should I say, Dr Alpin?”<br/>
<br/>
“Any of her memories yet?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” Sydney says, shaking her head. “Good thing I didn’t need ‘em. The booking system’s really easy, and it was no hassle to shunt a few people around. You’ve got a full hour to get used to being Miriam Alpin. Or…”The dusky-skinned beauty twists her fingers in her hair. “Or, I’m sure we can find some other way to keep you occupied.”<br/>
<br/>
An hour later, it’s as if nothing had happened. The new golem Will has left, orders strictly to go and hang out with the Sydney golem. ‘Callie’ – Calistra Porter – is back at her desk, everything neat and organized. And, inside the office, Miriam Alpin is patting her hair, propping her glasses on her nose, and checking there’s no blemish to her makeup. The pant suit is neat, the seat comfortable. <br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath as you settle into your role. Miriam Alpin’s credentials are, shall we say, sketchy at best. Many of the courses she pridefully displays on her walls are correspondence, and while she does have a medical licence and has specialized in psychiatry, it’s from a school way down the totem pole and a small practice in a place nobody's ever heard of. It’s a comfortable body, though, which jiggles in all the right places, and has none of the tensions the real Will Prescott assumed here normal. Really, being a middle-aged woman is surprisingly relaxing, especially one who has millions in the bank that can be spent on spas, clothes, or the fine wines she enjoys drinking at home. The German accent is genuine, though; she's American-German, born in Thuringia before emigrating as a child. <br/>
<br/>
And she’s the perfect person to start the work of Baphomet in Beverly Hills, too. Her mind is like an index book of Who’s Who. Many of the rich and powerful are her clients and confidantes, and you know how easily they’d accept just slipping on a mask. From Miriam, you could be virtually anyone. It won’t happen overnight – you’ve got more masks to prepare before the cult can begin in earnest. It's the ideal start.<br/>
<br/>
Or, there’s another option, one you’d need to discuss with Sydney. Why use the masks at all? As Miriam Alpin, you could begin a real Brotherhood or Coven. Her mix of basic psych 101 and eastern healing therapies means people wouldn’t even blink if you suggested a magic ritual to help them. Hell, you’d have people queuing around the street. From your new guise, you wouldn’t even need to use the <i>Libra</i>. <br/>
<br/>
Neither plan is going to happen immediately, though. For now, you've got to be the one and only Dr Alpin, shrink to the stars.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a slight knock at the door.<br/>
<br/>
“Doctor,” Callie says, with a smile. “You have a 2pm.”<br/>
<br/>
“Good,” you say, with that affected German twang. “Thank you, Callie. I’ll be ready.”</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111214
author_id: seuzz
title: Taking It to the Enemy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There's no time to waste, as far as you're concerned: The sooner you're out of your shit life and into someone else's, the happier you'll be. Sydney drives directly to the elementary school, but she only drops you off, saying that she's got a few errands that she needs to run first. "I'll bring back some supper, too," she says. "What do you want?" You tell her it's up to her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She returns at around six with barbecue, which is a nice change of pace from burgers, while you continue work on the two masks and the two memory strips you've made. But you are running short of supplies, and will need to pick up some more.<br/>
<br/>
After eating, Sydney starts working on one of the memory strips while you finish polishing the two masks; she is still working on it when you set them aside as done and pick up the second memory strip. Without the whine of the car buffer filling the basement, you're able to resume talking.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney is full of ideas for replacing members of the sports teams or some of the after school clubs, and she prattles cheerfully about which clubs and teams would make most suitable "brethren of Baphomet." Your ears prick up when she mentions the "Cinephile Society" as one such club. "Some of them have a YouTube channel, I hear," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say, and snap your fingers as you try to summon up their names. "Mike Montoya— No, Carlos Montoya and Mike Hollister. I have them in my English class."<br/>
<br/>
"What are they like?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, geeky. They've got some technical crew, too. Philip Fairfax." <i>And Keith Fucking Tilley,</i> you add in a silent growl.<br/>
<br/>
"It would be interesting having a YouTube channel," Sydney says. "I wonder if we could figure out a way of sending out occult subliminal messages through it." She stops work to gaze up dreamily at a wall. Then she rouses herself. "Do they have any sexy cohosts on their channel?"<br/>
<br/>
You suck thoughtfully on your upper lip. "I'm ... not the guy to judge if Carlos or Mike are sexy," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"No! I mean girls! Those channels always have a sexy girl on to cohost, don't they? At least, the one's I've seen do. You have two fat, bearded nerds in glasses, and sitting between them some girl with platinum hair in a cheerleader outfit, and she sits there trying to talk about <i>Star Wars</i> or the latest comic book movie like she loves it."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe she does."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." Sydney rolls her eyes. "Maybe she does. Pigs have been known to fly, too, when they think there's a TV contract in it. But do these guys have a sexy cohost?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know." You take out your phone. "I could load up their channel and see. I've never watched it."<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. It just occurred to me that they could use a sexy cohost whether they've got one or not, and if they don't we could provide them with one. Assuming that we <i>were</i> them, you know."<br/>
<br/>
Thinking about Mike and Carlos, naturally, leads you to think about Keith and about the assholes who were once your friends. And that reminds you of the rest of the shitty day. So while Sydney speculates about replacing students at the Agape Christian Academy with Baphomet-worshipping duplicates—and openly fantasizes about having ceremonies in the school chapel—you wrap yourself in your own thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
"There's a role-playing club at the school, I think," you say when her end of the conversation has lapsed. "At least, there's a bunch of guys who are always off playing D&amp;D together."<br/>
<br/>
"Do they have girlfriends?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so."<br/>
<br/>
"We could provide them with some," Sydney says after a moment's thought. "Role-playing as role players. That's almost better than being the drama club. And, uh, please don't think that I'm stereotyping, but are those role-players friends of yours? Friends of your friends? Because that might be one way you could keep in touch with—"<br/>
<br/>
It's like your breastbone has cracked in two. All the rage you've kept quietly bottled up comes geysering out. You slam your fist against a desk and hurl yourself to your feet. You stalk up and down the basement kicking at the desks. You stop only when you see Sydney watching you with wide, fear-filled eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," you tell her in a choked voice. "It's not you. It's ... something else."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" she asks in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
"My ... <i>friends.</i>" It takes you a few moments before you can master yourself sufficiently to tell her about your day.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She is silent afterward, and she returns to her work on the memory strip after a few minutes of staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. From the crease on her brow, though, you can tell she is still preoccupied with what you've told her.<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't really matter, though," you grumble when you're tired of the silence. "In a few days—tomorrow, maybe—I'll be someone else and they can all—"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me about this Kirkham guy," she interrupts you. You'd also told her about  your run-in with him. "Who are his friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"Buncha dope peddlers, mostly. I think." You try not to pay attention to Kirkham, but you've noticed him hanging out with Gary Chen, who is a known dealer of drugs inside the school. That is something you pay even less to, and it's only haltingly and with a lot of confessed guesswork that you describe Kirkham's social set. When you're done, Sydney says, "I guess we could add them to the list of school clubs we could use."<br/>
<br/>
"We could use almost <i>anyone,</i>" you retort. You wince at how sharp the words were.<br/>
<br/>
"Including your friends?" Sydney says.<br/>
<br/>
You wheel on her. She doesn't look up from the memory strip. <br/>
<br/>
"What did you say?" you croak.<br/>
<br/>
"I said, Including your friends?" Still she keeps her face down.<br/>
<br/>
Goose bumps ripple over you. Your voice fails. Finally, when she says nothing, you say, "You mean—" You have to lick your dry lips. "Caleb and Keith?"<br/>
<br/>
"And those other guys, the ones that chased you off at lunch."<br/>
<br/>
"Turn them into—?"<br/>
<br/>
"You've already got a mask of your best friend. The guy who <i>used</i> to be your best friend, Will." She seems to shrink down inside herself, as though anticipating a blow. "A guy you went around pretending to be, even for a whole day at school."<br/>
<br/>
The world spins, and you have to put your head in your hands. It's one thing to go around pretending to be your best friend, even to the point of using his face to get you a girlfriend. It's another thing entirely to replace him. To <i>become</i> him. The same with all your other friends.<br/>
<br/>
Except you're thinking of doing that to other people at school. <i>Thinking about it?</i> You're <i>going</i> to do it!<br/>
<br/>
And what's the difference between doing it to Caleb and doing it to David Kirkham? You reel as another wave of anger punches you in the gut. Once upon a time the answer would have been easy: Caleb is a friend and Kirkham is an enemy. But now Caleb has declared himself an enemy of you.<br/>
<br/>
The fucker! He could have been content to let you have Sydney. He could have retreated like a gracious loser. Sure, you guess you kind of tricked him into getting out of the way. But he never had a chance with her. Only you did. You'd have explained it to him—eventually; somehow—if only he'd kept still. But no, the asshole had to—<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't mean to piss you off by saying that," Sydney says. Her words jerk you back to the present.<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath. "No, it's alright. I'm not pissed."<br/>
<br/>
"I only thought—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I get it. It's just—" You swallow and cover your face with your hands. "It's just a big thing to think about." You shiver all over. "It wouldn't have occurred to me, and the idea's just ... just a shock, is all."<br/>
<br/>
"No one is saying you have to do it."<br/>
<br/>
"No, of course not. But it is something to think about."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You do think it over, and over a lot more, as you finish up the memory strip. When you're done, you attach the two strips to the two masks.<br/>
<br/>
You are now equipped to make a replacement: one mask to copy yourself to make a <i>pedisequos</i> to put on your victim. And the other mask to make yourself into him.<br/>
<br/>
You know this much: It will be someone you talked about this afternoon.</span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111122
author_id: seuzz
title: Coveting a Coven
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What about a coven?" you blurt into the phone before you can catch yourself. "Instead of a 'brotherhood'— Well, does a Baphomet thing have to be all guys in order to be a 'brotherhood'?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," Sydney says. She sounds taken aback by your suggestion. "I don't think so."<br/>
<br/>
"So can it be like a coven? Is that technically a thing?"<br/>
<br/>
She's silent for a moment. Then she asks, "Do you want it to be an all-girl thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was just thinking it might be, you know, kind of neat if it was."<br/>
<br/>
But your heart is now in your throat. <i>Is Sydney going to be weirded out by your suggestion? Does it sound like you want to get yourself a kind of harem? Or—</i>gulp!<i> that you want to </i>swap bodies<i> with a girl?</i> <br/>
<br/>
"I mean," you stammer, "it could be a mix, but I was thinking—"<br/>
<br/>
"We should have at least one guy," Sydney says. "Some of the rituals require a, uh, cock. I guess <i>you</i> could provide it. Though some of the rituals might require two cocks," she adds in the tone of an afterthought, "though of course not on the same guy."<br/>
<br/>
"What for?" you ask, though with a sinking heart you can guess.<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. Do you have any particular girls in mind?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... the cheerleading squad?" That also comes blurting out, much to your embarrassment. "There's ten girls on it," you add in a desperate lunge, "so it's already the right number."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh."<br/>
<br/>
"Is something wrong with using the cheerleaders?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But—" She breathes heavily into the phone. "Don't you think it's kind of, well, a cliche? A coven of <i>cheerleaders,</i> Will? Doesn't it sound like something off a bad CW show?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, never mind me. Don't let me bully you. If you want—" She cuts herself off. "Let me think of some other ideas, okay? All girl or mostly girl. Pick you up tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, sure."<br/>
<br/>
"See you then. Sweet dreams!" The line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
You may not have sweet dreams after you're asleep, but you have some sweaty fantasies before you do.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've parted with Sydney in front of the gym—she has a P.E. class first thing—and are nearing your locker when again strong hands are laid on you. You're thrust through the crowd, and a punch to a kidney slams you face first into a locker. Your knees buckle, but the hand supports you as you're wrenched around. You sphincter loosens to find David Kirkham grinning into your face.<br/>
<br/>
Kirkham is a little smaller than you, but he's compact and strong. He rolls the ever-present toothpick about in his mouth beneath the ever-present shades.<br/>
<br/>
He puts his face close to yours so that he can make himself heard without lifting his voice over the mutter of the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
"I hear you're getting fucked these days, Prescott." His voice is soft, but there's a hard rattle in it, like the scales of a serpent sliding over stone. "Wanna tell me about it?"<br/>
<br/>
Your shoulders rise in a weak shrug. It's never a good idea to talk back to David Kirkham—one of the most fearsome bullies at Westside—but it's an even worse idea to say or do nothing when he address you.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not sure?" His grin widens. "What kind of a pussy-sniffer doesn't know if he's getting fucked?"<br/>
<br/>
Now you just swallow. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to do you a favor, Prescott," he hisses. "I'm going to <i>ride</i> you." He tightens his grip on your collar. "I've seen that girl that you don't know if you're fucking or not. Oooh! If I was with her, she's know she was getting fucked. I'd fuck her into a coma then fuck her back out of it. But I was saying I'm gonna do you a solid."<br/>
<br/>
He puts his face so close to yours you can smell the cinnamon on his breath. <br/>
<br/>
"Starting Monday I'm gonna fuck you up every day, in front of her. Give you a chance to prove to her that you got balls big enough for her. You got balls big enough for her, don't you? She <i>inspires</i> you, doesn't she?" He punches you again. "So I'm gonna let you <i>show</i> her how much she inspires you. And as an <i>extra</i> favor, 'cos I like you so much, I won't pull any my punches."<br/>
<br/>
He drops you, and sniggers as he pats your chest. "So get ready for a good show on Monday, Prescott. Play it like your life depends on it." With another hissing laugh, he melts back into the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
You run into the nearest bathroom and throw up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You can't say anything to Caleb in first period about your run-in with Kirkham. Not that Caleb could do anything about it except grumble sympathetically. But telling him would involve telling him about your new relationship with Sydney, and you've yet to figure out a way of breaking that to him.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't even get to have a normal conversation with him. He is very white in the face, and when you greet him he just folds his arms and stares at the front of the room with glittering eyes. "Caleb," you say. "Caleb, man, come on!" Even when you wave your hand in front of his face he just turns the color of Antarctica and stares straight ahead.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is the matter with Johansson?" you ask Keith when you fall into the desk in front of his in second period. "The son of a bitch went all last period ignoring me."<br/>
<br/>
"It's pro'ly on account of your being such a backstabbing asshole," Tilley replies. He leans back, turns his cap brim-side front, and pulls it down over his eyes. "Can't say I blame him," he adds as he lifts his cell phone to block his view of you.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" But with a sinking heart you can make a pretty good guess.<br/>
<br/>
"What you think I'm a'talk about? What's her name? Girl wanted to get to know Caleb only you got to her first?"<br/>
<br/>
You grip your desk and glare. "What are you talking about?" you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
"You know exactly what I'm'a talk about, motherfucker. Girl comes on to Caleb, you sling a lot of shit at him so he don't come back at her, you pick her up and walk off with her instead. Not fucking cool, man." He shakes his head and clucks his tongue. "Not fucking cool."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, first of all, who told you some girl was coming on to Caleb? And second, what makes you think I'm—"<br/>
<br/>
But the words falter and die. You've never been good at bluffing. Obviously Caleb would have told Keith about Sydney, and about how you talked him into ignoring her; and just as obviously word must have spread back to the two of them that you and her had started going out.<br/>
<br/>
"I tell you one more thing," Keith says, "and then I start talkin' to you like you was a wall. As in, I ain't talkin' to you ever again." You can't help rolling your eyes at Keith's attempt to sound "ghetto." "You better go lookin' for some new friends, 'cos you ain't findin' none where you been findin' 'em b'fore. An' that includes Carson and James." He whistles. "Ain't no one cool wit' what you done to Caleb. You gonna find 'em all <i>cold.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Bad things come in threes, they say, but maybe your bad luck exhausted itself with Kirkham and with Caleb, for nothing else awful happens to you before the last bell rings. You spend an hour in the library, stewing quietly in a corner with your homework, as you wait for Sydney to finish her afterschool gymnastics.<br/>
<br/>
"So I've got some more ideas," she tells you on the way home from school. "It's Friday night, but we should get started. Skip the parties."<br/>
<br/>
You'd be up for that, and ask her what her ideas are.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going with your 'coven' idea. You have any ideas besides the cheerleaders?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I'm pretty much open to anything at this point." When she gives you a quizzical look, you just add, "I just wanna get started."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think we should rush into anything," she cautions you. "But the idea I've got would let us take it slow. We'd do things three at a time."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, covens are supposed to be trios, right? Like in Macbeth?" You only shrug. "So we build it out of three groups of three. Then, for a tenth, we add a guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Um—" You try to come to grips with some concrete possibilities. "Would each of these trios be, like, friends of each other? Would we get all nine of them in the same place, or would we—?"<br/>
<br/>
Sydney laughs. "We could do anything we want, Will. We could get all of them from the same place, like the school orchestra, or we could take over one of the girls' sports teams. Or we could—"<br/>
<br/>
She catches herself and snaps her fingers. "There's some girls in my French II class that are always sitting around gossiping. You know, sophomores. We could start with a trio of friends, and then find another random trio and another random trio after that. You know, after looking around."</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111221
author_id: seuzz
title: Charms to Tame
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sydney wants to take things slow, but there's no time to waste as far as you're concerned. The sooner you're out of your shit life and into someone else's, the happier you'll be.<br/>
<br/>
"You mentioned the school orchestra," you said. "How about we just go with them?"<br/>
<br/>
Sydney catches her breath. "Um. Okay. Are there any girls in the orchestra that you're especially ...?" She trails off.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess it doesn't have to be the orchestra," you stammer. "I was just thinking it would be really simple, really convenient, if we found them all in one place." <i>In a hurry,</i> you add.<br/>
<br/>
"So the marching band or one of the chorale groups would be okay with you too?"<br/>
<br/>
Now you feel like you've maneuvered yourself into a cul-de-sac. "Uh. Sure. It's the same idea."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. You know there are some garage bands with mostly girl members."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Yeah! That would be kind of hot, actually."<br/>
<br/>
"And it would be ... appropriate ... in some cases," Sydney agrees. Then she adds, "Though I don't think there's enough garage bands to fully stock our, um, covens from them. So maybe we could have a coven of pop musicians, and a coven in the marching band, and a coven in the orchestra or one of the choral groups?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds great."<br/>
<br/>
Again, she falls silent.<br/>
<br/>
"You're being very agreeable, Will," she says. "Shall I just pick them out and let you agree to them, or do you want to make the decision?"<br/>
<br/>
Oh, you'll make the decision. You didn't mean to trap yourself inside a musical production, but having done so, you'll pick which musical society to transform into a cult devoted to the worship of Baphomet.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's go with—"</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112211
author_id: rugal
title: The Boy Who Would Be Hipster Queen
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Garage bands</i>.<br/>
<br/>
That causes Sydney to raise an eyebrow. "I just said we wouldn't have enough to draw from to make a coven," she says firmly, "much as it might be fun to strum a guitar or bang on some drums."<br/>
<br/>
Her gaze is steady. You gulp. Is this some game of mental chicken and she's expecting you to jump out of the way as she charges forward with her own ideas and preferences? Well after today you're in a mood to not be pushed around. "I know that but if we're going to do it we should have a little fun right? That and there's probably plenty of bands around here we don't know about," you state with a bit of defiance.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney's gaze remains unyielding. "Like groups of out of Eastman," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"Well sure," you shrug, "Probably out of the college too. But I was thinking, you know, that even if there's not enough girls who are in bands, those girls probably have large social circles."<br/>
<br/>
Just the tiniest bit you notice Sydney cock her head in curiosity. "So the bands are a stepping stone, is that what you're saying?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"They can be if we can't find enough people or if we just want to go in that direction," you answer. "But if we're going to have this cult--"<br/>
<br/>
"Order," Sydney cuts in.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Okay, then if we're going to have this <i>order</i>," you start over making sure to stress that particular word, "then we probably want to make sure we've got influence right? Start with the bands, add the right people outside of them if we need to..."<br/>
<br/>
"Or the right people outside of school," she adds and her piercing gaze has turned much softer and brighter. "Oh jeez, Will, this is exciting! A few key replacements and we have the underground under our control," she states, "and we can use them to really push the propaganda. This time the music actually <i>will</i> have hidden Satanic messages."<br/>
<br/>
You're actually taken aback by that. "I wasn't really, uh, thinking of it like <i>that</i>," you reply nervously. But I guess we could--"<br/>
<br/>
"Will, come on, I'm kidding," she titters, "but I agree that it would be a good idea nonetheless. So who gets to be patient zero?"<br/>
<br/>
"It'd need to be someone popular in that group. The type of person with a lot of credibility so we could use her to get to whoever we needed with little issue," you state.<br/>
<br/>
You think for a moment and it's not long before you, and Sydney as well apparently, arrive at the same conclusion. A girl popular in the underground scene? Someone with lots of credibility who could get you close to anyone? Even if you don't know her, you know of her, and that's more than enough because when thinking in those terms there's really only one girl.<br/>
<br/>
"Jelena!" the both of you exclaim simultaneously which causes the both of you to crack up.<br/>
<br/>
There really is nobody else it could be. You're not the most socially clued in person around but even you know enough to know that Jelena Petrovic would be like playing the hipster level with cheat codes. But the problem of this immediately shows itself.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know her," you admit. "I don't think I've ever talked to her."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't say that I have either," Sydney is also forced to admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Because you're new?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not that," Sydney replies with a shake of her head, "everyone knows who she is, even the new girl. We just don't run in the same circles."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not worried that it might cause problems with the two of us hanging out? If one of us is wearing her mask, I mean?" You ask; that only earns a small shrug. "She always seems really unapproachable. Like she's got that same sort of vibe that Andrea has but, like, cranked up to eleven."<br/>
<br/>
"That's probably overstating it," Sydney says, "but I do see where you're coming from. Still though, it's not like sitting around and fretting over her approachability is going to get us a mask of her. We have to take action which means we need to start by going to the right places. So where would someone like her hang out on a Friday night?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"The fuck do you think you're going?"<br/>
<br/>
The words stop you about as hard as the hand on your chest of the guy manning the front door. You don't know who he is beyond a nametag that says "Jeremy" but you'd guess he's a football player. He's not quite as tall as most of the other players, though certainly taller than you, but he's brawny. The kind of guy who looks like he'd be at home crashing into and tossing players opposite of whatever line he's probably on.<br/>
<br/>
"It's fine. He's with me," Sydney says as she turns around from just past the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
Jeremy, whoever he is, looks from you to her and back to you and shakes his head. "Look bro, I don't care if this chick feels bad for you, you ain't gettin' past. That simple," he says.<br/>
<br/>
Before you have time to dwell on the fact you're at an impasse Sydney makes sure to step in. "I don't feel sorry for him," she says before grabbing you by the arm. "If I want him in here with me he's coming in here with me. You can look the other way can't you? I'd <i>really</i> appreciate it."<br/>
<br/>
She flashes a smile that's as dripping in venom as it is honey. You don't even get a chance to see whether or not this guy will blink because Sydney's taken advantage of the situation to pull you right by him before he even has a chance to react.<br/>
<br/>
"Meatheaded cock sucker," she mutters as the two of you melt into the crowd. "I can't believe they actually pay high school students to pretend to be bouncers. That's so ridiculous."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you know they did that? I've never been out here myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I've been here once or twice so I was aware," she answers. "I didn't think they'd actually be serious about it though. It's a fucking warehouse, not some ritzy club."<br/>
<br/>
Yet though it may not look like much it's definitely the weekend hangout spot of choice for students from both high schools. More specifically, it's the haunt for a certain segment of those students.<br/>
<br/>
It's the type of place where Jelena Petrovic is sure to hang out. In fact you don't even have to look all that hard for her. Sydney's the one who directs your attention to the stage where you see her performing with others who definitely a look like they're out of high school at this point. You'd heard that she played in a band but you didn't know it was with college students. Briefly you wonder if any of them might know your cousin Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
"You have what we need?" Sydney asks as she pulls you over close to the bar.<br/>
<br/>
You hold up the bag of stuff you'd made in the intervening time between getting out of school and when things would start picking up at the Warehouse: two masks, one blank and one with your image copied into it and treated with the stuff from the new spell.<br/>
<br/>
Because Sydney had suggested treating that mask and using her as a scout for some others for the rituals. Jelena's open about her sexual orientation after all and she's not quite sure yet what role same-sex relations would play in them. But you'd offered to put the mask on yourself, saying that it might be better to scout things out with your own eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You'd left out the stuff about everyone else being pissed at you because of your relationship with her.<br/>
<br/>
So you have the motive (real and mostly real ones both), you have the means. All you'd need to wait for is the opportunity.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
With a groan you pull yourself up to a sitting position.<br/>
<br/>
Naked and on one of those grimy mattresses in one of the upstairs rooms. The ones you pay for like a scuzzier version of those Japanese love hotels. But why are you naked? You didn't... did you? You hadn't even really drank so blacking out because of that doesn't make sense.<br/>
<br/>
What's the last thing you remember? That new girl, Sydney Somethingorother approaching you after your set. She'd gushed about how cool you were up there and how she wanted to get to know someone like you a little better. A little more privately. But you'd dismissed the idea. She was the type of girl you'd expect to see in Miss America or something, a generic blonde in a sea of generic blondes. Attractive to be sure but she wasn't the type you went for.<br/>
<br/>
Yet when she'd stroked your arm and gently wrapped her hand around your's. Well, you didn't melt but you couldn't say "no" all the same. So you followed her upstairs right to the room you're in right now. You saw a boy in there, someone you may have seen around school a few times. He thrust something at you. Then you saw nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Now that boy that you didn't know is in here with you, or rather you're in here with him. Your mind, your very body, encasing his own and doing such a good job of it that he's thinking as you, his own thoughts filtered through your mental lens. Maybe that's why you're thinking so differently about Sydney now. He's head over heels for her after all. The shared interest in the occult and magic, being in a relationship with someone like him.<br/>
<br/>
You'd written her off as another Cindy. A vapid, plastic Barbie doll pretending to be a real girl. She wasn't like Sienna or Fatima or Chris or some of the other amazing, admirable girls you know who challenge norms, challenge the social order and are true to themselves however that may clash with what's expected of them from every other corner. Those are the types of girls who really do things for you.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney McGlynn, much to your surprise, is one of those girls and the realization of that is really starting to turn you on.</span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111122111
author_id: rugal
title: Compatibility
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You turn your head, your eyes scanning the room for Sydney. You find her by the door turned away from you illuminated by the glow of her phone. "You can look," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"There's no way you got dressed that fast," she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"That's a problem?" you ask. You get no answer so you push yourself to your feet and make your way over to her. "We're private now you know," you say as you reach out one hand to stroke her arm the way she'd done earlier and the other to rest on her waist. She tenses up and then squirms away from you making an effort not to look. You can't help but smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"Do I throw you off balance that much?" you ask as you turn and make your way over to the pile of clothes.<br/>
<br/>
"Not at all," she shoots back.<br/>
<br/>
"Liar," you state with amusement as you begin slipping things on. Nothing much is said at that point until you've slipped the dark skirt on and are grabbing for its contrastingly light top that you notice <i>him</i> off in a corner. "You're still here," you say to him.<br/>
<br/>
That seems to catch his attention. "Uh, should I not be?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You know what's going on don't you?" you ask Will as you throw the top over your head and straighten out your hair.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, kind of. It's confusing but basically I'm you, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"And who am I?" you ask dryly to which he has no response. "I'm me and you have to listen to me. You don't need to think about it any more than that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Y-yes," he mutters sheepishly.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. You have a curfew don't you?" He eyes you for a second before it sinks in and he's scrambling out the door. "You and him," you observe as you turn to Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
"It's unsettling," she replies as she walks up to you, her eyes are thin as she peers intently at you, sizing you up. "You're playing a character right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Am I?" you chuckle. "Everything you've done and talked about to this point and this is what unnerves you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, this is different!" she insists. "When I put on that mask of Caleb I still thought like me and acted like me but with you..."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm still very much myself if that's what you're worried about," you state.<br/>
<br/>
Her gaze doesn't lighten any at that however. In fact it might have actually hardened. "And who are you?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
With that you go from a light chuckle to full on laughter. "Sydney, I promise you I am still me don't worry," you insist through it. "I just wanted to have a little fun and turn the tables on you for once."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do we do now?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well I know something," you say as you move back to her and run the back of your hand down the side of her face.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, come on," Sydney says with noticeable unease, "I don't... you know..."<br/>
<br/>
"A shame don't you think? Jelena, seeing who you really are, is quite impressed," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm sure that <i>she's</i> an impressive girl as well but I'm not," she stops and grunts, "look, you wanted to turn the tables and throw <i>me</i> off balance and you're doing a good job of it okay? You've had your fun."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't help it," you admit. "Being her feels, well, good. Relaxing maybe. She's confident and comfortable in her skin so it feels nice to be able to be like that for a change."<br/>
<br/>
"Will, you've got plenty of reasons to be confident you know," she replies."I'm a good enough reason right?"<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if she's going to do anything more than just say something but she doesn't and you can't help but let out a frustrated grumble. "Well if I'm going to be Jelena, I mean it doesn't really mean much," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"So go back to being yourself then. Put mask on the real girl."<br/>
<br/>
You can only shake your head. "You don't get it, I don't <i>want</i> to," you respond. "Not yet anyway. There's just... I like that you think like that about me but I really do just want to feel confident and cool for a little bit."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help but think about way everyone else has been acting towards you. They sure as hell wouldn't give that kind of attitude to Patterson. Hell, Jelena could date Sydney and she wouldn't get the same guff. But you're not cool, you're not popular so of course it's totally not right for you to date someone so obviously out of your league no matter what you or her might think. The sad reality is you'll never be "right" for her in the eyes of everyone else, same as you weren't "right" for Lisa in the eyes of all of her friends.<br/>
<br/>
It'd basically take some kind of shadowy cabal of puppet masters manipulating everything behind the scenes focused solely on making you popular for anything to change. Fat chance of the Illuminati taking interest in the social position of a high schooler though.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney herself is quiet too and you have to wonder if she doesn't realize it as well; realize the mistake she may have made with you. She didn't seem adverse to the idea of Blake O'Brien's company after all. "So you're fine like that? Even if it means we can't be together for a while?" she asks. Her gaze is downcast and it hits you right in the gut.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, well..."<br/>
<br/>
"If that's the case then," she pauses and you brace yourself; she's going to end it right here. She looks at you, her smile is mischievous like she's playing with you. You can't help but anticipate it. "Find me someone good for Jelena. Someone <i>really</i> compatible."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" you ask. "Really compatible? You're not talking about... you just said you're not..."<br/>
<br/>
"Sydney McGlynn isn't. Who said anything about other potential members of the coven though?"<br/>
<br/>
Just as quickly Sydney hasn't so much as thrown you off balance but used your own momentum like an expert judoka to knock you flat on your back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I told you, nothing happened," you say as you sit on the couch in the living room of the house that Jelena shares with her sister and one of her fellow bandmates.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean nothing happened?" Nancy Trent asks as she takes a seat on the opposite end. "I didn't even know something was going on with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh you weren't out there yet right?" Shayna Offerman jumps in, seemingly oblivious to the death glare you're giving her. "Yell was getting really flirty with that new senior girl."<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't getting flirty with her," you insist and with relief you take a drag.<br/>
<br/>
"New senior girl?" asks Sienna as she flops down next to Shayna on the love seat.<br/>
<br/>
"That one you hate," Shayna replies. "Sydney?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?!" Sienna exclaims as she casts a suspicious eye towards you. "I didn't think you went for the Barbie dolls."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't and I didn't," you continue to insist while also continuing to glare hard at a junior that can't keep her mouth shut. "She just thought the band sounded good and had some questions about it. That's it."<br/>
<br/>
"I watched you guys go up into the rooms," Shayna replies defensively.<br/>
<br/>
"That was her idea, she thought they'd be quieter," you lie. "She's new, she doesn't really have a handle on why they're there."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah but--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shayna," Nancy sighs, "if Yell says nothing happened then nothing happened. I can't imagine someone like Cheerleader Barbie gets out to the Warehouse all that much and she's new on top of it? I can see her being ignorant of that shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't even imagine someone like you 'n her," Sienna laughs. "Fuck though that'd be a trip wouldn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'd be incompatible," you reply dismissing the notion entirely. "Even if we weren't, you know how the social system works."<br/>
<br/>
Nancy nods in agreement. "Yeah, Hennepin can't even go public with Kelsey because it'd reflect badly on her or some shit," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"Even though that's, like, the worst kept secret in school since people like me know about it," Shayna adds.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' bullshit," Sienna grunts. "I can't stand her but if Kelsey wants to get dicked by Hennepin why the fuck should any of that shit matter?"<br/>
<br/>
"It is what it is, we can't change reality," you state. <i>Much as we'd like to</i>, you think as you cast an eye to Sienna. Those who are artistic, expressive, defiant and transgressive, that's who Jelena looks up to. That's what Jelena looks for. Is it any wonder then that Sienna sets her heart racing so much even knowing that their differing orientations produce a fundamental incompatibility? But you don't want to dwell on it and neither would the real girl so you shift topics.<br/>
<br/>
"Is Fatima not coming out?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Family commitment that she couldn't get out of," Sienna states.<br/>
<br/>
"Too bad; KC likes having her around. Says that she's a good counter for Zoe's moodiness," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, she's coming over?" Shayna asks a bit nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean she lives here so," Nancy replies.<br/>
<br/>
But you know where Shayna's nerves come from. Nobody wants to risk looking bad in front of Jelena's sister. Not that KC is the judgmental type but she's, well, KC and for as cool as Jelena might seem her sister is double that. A lot of the underground still looks up to her... and that would make her a really useful person to have in the coven as would Zoe for that matter. A few people in college really wouldn't hurt.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe it would. It's nice but you might complicate things with this coven too much and you're largely flying by the seat of your pants here. So it's probably better to just keep things simple and focus on the schools and bands first.<br/>
<br/>
Yet you also keep coming back to that word: compatibility. It's been haunting you both before and after this swap. Will Prescott isn't compatibility with this or that girl. Jelena Petrovic has compatibility issues with those she might want to have something more with. There's what Sydney had said too. Maybe, then, you should focus on compatibility -- who is and who is (right now) just fantasy -- with your new identity.</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111221111
author_id: rugal
title: The Cousin Complication
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Nine people for your coven, huh? You feel as though before your choices were nearly unlimited. There were so many directions you could have gone in that it was almost overwhelming; nearly impossible to decide. Now that you've settled on a general direction, now that you have a new identity, it should be easier. Yet Jelena, it seems, has thrown you a curveball. You knew she was at the center of the underground scene but you look at your trio of companions and realize they would all make great additions.<br/>
<br/>
Shayna may be a junior but she's a popular one and would thus make that class more open to you should you want it.<br/>
<br/>
Sienna of course allows you to keep things in Jelena's tightest circle with Fatima Zahedi -- a girl who Sienna shares an almost sisterly bond with -- and, you want to gulp, Andrea Varnsworth. A girl so inscrutable that even Jelena can't help but to some times wonder just how much she truly understands her friend. There's the wider social network Jelena maintains too: Warehouse regulars, Eastman students and even some friendlies amongst the crowd of St. Xavier's mutants.<br/>
<br/>
Nancy herself is an intriguing proposition. Her boyfriend -- Shaynas older brother -- is a junior at Keyserling and so quite a few years older and yet both of them seem devoted to one another. So devoted that they, in fact, live together in a small home not too far from Andrea. So devoted that Nancy's made no secret of potential marriage plans once he's graduated and landed himself employment.<br/>
<br/>
And that throws your mind back to the university and to Jelena's own companions. She lives here in this house with her older sister K.C. -- Katarina-Charlotta is a name she's all but disowned -- as well as Zoe Sabin, K.C.'s lifelong best friend. It's curious, you think, that she'd live on the other side of town in a home out by the university, but from a quick probe you realize that it's a curiosity Jelena herself doesn't like to ponder (only appreciates that it made her bond with her sister stronger) and you decide for now to go with her own proclivities.<br/>
<br/>
Instead you continue to converse with her friends and enjoy things when you hear the door click. All of you turn to see a young woman, thin with short hair dyed a light lavender, come in. "Didn't know you were home," she says to you as she closes the door.<br/>
<br/>
"K.C.!" Shayna exclaims with excitement. "You wanna chill?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah," she says and her voice is one of exhaustion. "Wouldn't wanna be a bother."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you tired?" you ask with sisterly concern.<br/>
<br/>
"Worn out, Long night at work," she sighs. "And then Charlotte wanted to hang out."<br/>
<br/>
"Is she still trying to sell you on that arts council thing?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Whazzat?" asks Sienna.<br/>
<br/>
"The Keyserling Council of the Arts with support from the Saratoga Falls Chamber of Commerce and Macgregor Media proudly presents the first annual Marla Clayborn Music Festival. A one day event honoring the legendary jazz singer and child of Saratoga Falls by spotlighting the best up and coming musicians in all of Van Dief County."<br/>
<br/>
K.C.'s arms are spread and her smile is forced as she recites a spiel from the festival's website that she's read a dozen times already. Both fall quickly however.<br/>
<br/>
"Charlotte keeps saying it'll be a good opportunity to get noticed and I keep telling her we're not interested," she says as the fake enthusiasm wilts away.<br/>
<br/>
"Any reason why?" Nancy asks.<br/>
<br/>
K.C. simply shrugs. "Just doesn't sit right with me. Feels hokey. And fucking Macgregor Media? They own so many damn stations that their bland, watered down, ultra commercial playlists are forced down half the country's collective throat." She grunts. "I get that Charlotte's trying to look out for us and all but I'm not looking to impress media suits, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
She yawns and reaches up a hand to rub her own head. "Hey Yell? I'm turning in early so just, like, keep it down okay? They've got me working early shift tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"She's so cool!" Shayna practically squeals after K.C. has disappeared down the hall.<br/>
<br/>
You make it a point to shush Shayna but you can't really disagree with her almost fangirlish excitement either. K.C. is someone who doesn't care about impressing others nor does she care about going out of her way to win or seek approval. She does what she does in the way that she feels is most true to herself. That's what makes her cool. That's what draws people to her.<br/>
<br/>
That, you decide, is what makes her a perfect member for your.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You have the stuff?" you ask as you lead Sydney into Jelena's room.<br/>
<br/>
"Right here," she answers as she pulls off the backpack she'd been wearing.<br/>
<br/>
At your direction she places it on the bed. You open it up to see masks, bands, the stuff needed to make pedisequos masks and more. Everything is good to go.<br/>
<br/>
"So where is she anyway?" asks Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
"Work," you answer simply.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay and where would that be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Milagro; assistant manager," you say. "Probably in line for the manager position if the current one ever leaves."<br/>
<br/>
"That's enough for a house out by the university?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Decent enough money and tips since she doesn't neglect her barista work," you answer. "Zoe's waitress work. Plus the band stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"What does Jelena do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Odd things here and there. She's sold some paintings locally. Had a job over the summer and did a good job saving," you shrug. "She doesn't spend much."<br/>
<br/>
"So I can see," she says as she looks at the rather spartanly furnished room. Then she looks at you. "Where are you going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Bathroom," you say as you hold up the stuff. "K.C. won't be back for a few hours but I figure it's best to get treating Jelena's mask out of the way."<br/>
<br/>
Sydney makes a face at that. "So you're going to be this girl's sister?"<br/>
<br/>
"Would that be a problem? You seemed a bit off-put last night." But suddenly you feel a mischievous smirk and you dart in and lean close to Sydney. "Or was I wrong?" you ask as you grasp her hand. "Do you want me to stay as Jelena? Would <i>you</i> like to know what it's like to be Jelena?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine," she says as she pulls back and gently nudges you to the door. "Just go do your thing. I'll be here when you get back."<br/>
<br/>
You're about to enter the bathroom when you hear the chimes of the doorbell. You try to ignore it at first -- <i>probably someone selling home security</i>, you think -- but after a few times and Sydney poking her head out of the room you decide to go and answer it. Sydney follows behind you. You're ready to give a curt "not interested" as you open the door but when you see who's on the other side you very much <i>are</i> interested.<br/>
<br/>
She's slim and petite. Her eyes, though distinctly Asian, are also like large dark pools. Her hair is long and dark and silken in appearance and hangs in straight bangs over her forehead. And the smile she gives you... it's not just Will Prescott's heart that it sends racing.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Yell," she greets you warmly. "Is K.C. in?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's at work unfortunately," you answer managing to maintain composure. "What brings you over?"<br/>
<br/>
"My clothes," she answers. "I let her borrow some."<br/>
<br/>
You raise an eyebrow at that as K.C.'s style -- rough and tomboyish -- is at odds with this girl's very feminine manner of dress. She seems to pick up on that and lets out a soft, pleasant sounding laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know, but they're old and she thought maybe she could rework them into a stage outfit," she says answering your unasked question. "I guess she couldn't make it work though so she told me to swing by and grab them."<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine then," you say as you invite her in. "You can just grab them from her room."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks!" she says cheerily. As she walks by you she takes note of Sydney and gives her a quick look over. Then she looks at you. "Is she..."<br/>
<br/>
"A friend from school," you quickly answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Gotcha."<br/>
<br/>
With that she continues towards K.C.'s room and you exhale deeply. "Shit," you mutter softly. "I didn't realize she was friends with--"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's she?" asks Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, that's Umeko," you answer. "I guess she's friends with Jelena's group here? I didn't know."<br/>
<br/>
"You know her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you nod. "Her last name's Prescott. She's my cousin." That gets a raised eyebrow from Sydney. "My aunt and uncle adopted her a long time ago. We're not blood related or anything."<br/>
<br/>
"I see," Sydney says with amusement. "Guess that means it's fine that you have the hots for her then."<br/>
<br/>
"I... what!?" you exclaim trying not to raise your voice.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney snickers. "Please, Will. The way you tensed up? Your body language? It was written all over you."<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh!" you sigh. "Okay yeah I guess I kind of do. Just a bit but..." You pause to make sure Umeko's not coming down the hall. "Well, it's not just <i>me</i> that does. Jelena is crushing on her and crushing hard."<br/>
<br/>
Sydney looks at you for a moment. Her face is thoughtful as she studies you but says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Yell," Umeko says as she pokes her head out form K.C.'s room. "I found what I needed so I'm gonna go. Any problem if I use the bathroom before I do?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, that's fine," you answer.<br/>
<br/>
You watch as Umeko, clothes in her arms, disappears into the bathroom that's across from Jelena's room. You then turn back to see that Sydney's expression has gone from thoughtful to absolutely devilish.<br/>
<br/>
"Say Will," she says in something of an amused sing song tone of voice. "Wouldn't your cousin make a great recruit for this coven we're building?"<br/>
<br/>
"What!?" you react with shock.<br/>
<br/>
But Sydney just places a hand on your cheek, leans in and smiles. "Wouldn't she make a great identity for me?"</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112211111
author_id: rugal
title: Impostor Syndrome
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You... you want a mask of Umeko?" you ask in surprise. "And you want to... to..."<br/>
<br/>
"Is there something wrong with that?" Sydney asks as she pulls back from you just a bit, that devilish look not leaving her face.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I mean..." You have to stop and pause. Jelena is very good about keeping her composure even when nervous but you're completely destroying her image as you stutter and mutter and muddle your way through responses. "She's family, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"But she's not blood related."<br/>
<br/>
"I know! But still!" Again you pause. "We grew up together, okay? So it's just... Look, how would you like it if I used one of these masks on your mom? Or one of your best friends?"<br/>
<br/>
She hesitates and her expression sours before she speaks. "I wouldn't necessarily be gung-ho about it, Will," she looks at you and her expression is serious; her eyes look at you with steely resolve. "But if it's what we needed to do then I'd do it. Will, I'm not taking any of this lightly believe me. I want to finish what my dad started and sure we can play and have fun but we have to be willing to do what's necessary as well."<br/>
<br/>
"We?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, we," she states. "You got yourself in deep the second you showed me the book. You flung yourself into a pit and now you're trapped." She grasps your hands with her own and clutches them tightly. "To be honest, after everything we've done together and everything <i>you've</i> done for me I <i>want</i> it to be us. Together. I wouldn't want to do it by myself and I certainly wouldn't want to do it with anyone else."<br/>
<br/>
You're moved of course by her passion which is sincere and overwhelming yet still the suggestion nags at you. "Why Umeko?" is all you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She lets go and looks down. "I got some messages this morning from friends. They were asking if it was true that I went up into the fuck rooms with Jelena. They asked if I knew what those rooms were for. They asked if I knew Jelena was, you know..."<br/>
<br/>
"A dyke."<br/>
<br/>
"They weren't being insulting or anything!" Sydney insists. "But it made me realize that Sydney and Jelena, even if it was just hanging out they'd make a pretty odd pair. We would constantly deal with questions and prying. It'd make things awkward and if people snoop too much they might even find out."<br/>
<br/>
"So if you were her that'd make it easier, right?" you reply. "I suppose you're right. My friends, Jelena's friends I mean, were pretty questioning of it last night too. But if you wanted to be someone who could hang out with me then why not just ask me to get a mask of one of Jelena's friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will, how long have you liked her? Umeko, I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"You said you grew up together. Have you liked her since you were kids?"<br/>
<br/>
"I... I don't know," you answer. "I guess. Maybe since I first started becoming aware of girls."<br/>
<br/>
"But it'd still be weird right?" she asks. "Even if you're not blood related, if you've grown up as family for so long then it'd still be looked at as something odd right?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you saying?"<br/>
<br/>
"What I'm saying you numbskull," she says as she grasps your hands once more, "is that you've made me very happy with what you've done for me and I want to return the favor. You can't really be with your cousin as Will Prescott but there's nothing that says Jelena Petrovic couldn't... you know..."<br/>
<br/>
You're taken aback by the suggestion. "You mean you would... but wait! You didn't seem into the idea of, uh, girl-on-girl stuff last night."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not a lesbian," she says, "I know that. But I also know that I care about you a great deal Will. Enough that I don't care what identity you're under or what identity I have to take. It could be us as normal, we could be another guy and girl. We could be two guys. I don't care. If it has to be as two girls then..." She trails off and looks at you. Her eyes are serious and she must be worked up emotionally because they're glistening. "Will, I love you. No matter what you look like, I love you."<br/>
<br/>
You're stunned and don't know what to say. You're still trying to form a response when you hear the bathroom door creak open and Umeko steps out and smiles as she looks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I'm going to get out of your hair. I'll see you later Yell. Tell K.C. I grabbed those clothes."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you start before you give a quick glance to Sydney. "Actually, do you have anywhere you need to be right now?"<br/>
<br/>
Umeko stops and gives a simple shrug. "I haven't made plans besides mom and dad wanting me back for dinner," she says. "What's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well," you start, "it's not a big deal or anything but it's an art project I've been working on. Something I'm thinking of selling. But I'd like your opinion on it before I go any further."<br/>
<br/>
You notice Umeko's expression light up. "Sure!" she exclaims in a chipper voice. "Let's take a look!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Are you sure you did everything right?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko, or rather the girl that <i>looks</i> like Umeko, glares hard at you. "No, Will. I didn't do it right at <i>all</i>. The bands definitely weren't already glued to the inside of the masks by you and they definitely weren't made by you to the specifications matched in the book and they definitely... pfft!" she rolls her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Well you saw me last night at the Warehouse. I was in character immediately," you tell her. "Too in character for a minute there," you add with a narrowing of the eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Well that's good for <i>you</i> but I've got nothing except her looks," she pouts.<br/>
<br/>
It practically melts your heart. That pout on Umeko's pretty, youthful face is damn near the cutest thing you've ever seen. But of course it's merely Umeko's <i>face</i> because behind it and making that expression is your girlfriend. It should be Umeko's mind too because despite your question you know everything was done correctly.<br/>
<br/>
It had actually been a close run thing because Sydney hadn't had a mask of herself made yet so after getting one of the masks onto Umeko you then had to have her put on another one and even as into the idea of taking your cousin's place as she was it still took some coaxing and reassuring to get her to put it on. By the time Umeko's mask had finished, Sydney''s was still copying so you had to quickly usher Umeko out of the room before she could really catch a glimpse of Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
You'd instead sat her down on the couch and tried to make conversation as she recovered and it was, thankfully, only a few minutes before Sydney emerged and with little time wasted jammed a mask onto Umeko's face. Then there were two Sydneys. After a quick exchange of clothes Sydney had sent her doppelganger home, put on Umeko's mask and...<br/>
<br/>
Well that's about where you are now. Back in Jelena's room trying to figure out what's gone wrong. You'd gotten Jelena's memories and quirks immediately but for Sydney it just wasn't coming. Little things here and there would come if she concentrated hard but nothing as naturally and smoothly as with you. After trying an dismissing theories, the only thing either of you could come up with was the idea that maybe it works differently for different people. Maybe some people just get it quicker than others. It wasn't satisfying but it's the best you'd had to go on.<br/>
<br/>
To make it up for her you took her out for lunch and spent the afternoon getting her as up to speed as you could on Umeko though admittedly there was lots that you didn't know or couldn't explain. And all you could do when Aunt Mary called to tell "Umeko" that supper was going to be ready was to reinforce to her the idea of keeping quiet and perhaps feigning a small illness. Anything to keep from exposing herself as not actually being your aunt and uncle's daughter until the memories came... if they even would at all.<br/>
<br/>
As for you, you'd gotten called away to hang out over at Andrea's for the evening and by the time you'd gotten back K.C. was nowhere to be found with Zoe only saying that she'd left a little bit before to go to a party. At that point you decided to consider it a wash and that you'd try for K.C. some other time.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're alone in the house late the next morning fixing yourself brunch -- K.C. and Zoe having left to go meet up with friends for brunch of their own -- when the doorbell rings. You set down what you'd been working on and go to answer it and are surprised to see Sydney, or the Umekofied Sydney at any rate, standing at the door.<br/>
<br/>
But from the way she greets you, her tone of voice, the way she moves as you invite her in and the way she smiles as she walks by... it's like you really are looking at Umeko. The genuine article and not just Sydney wearing her mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm? Oh right, yeah," she starts when you ask her about it. "It's hard to explain, I dunno. I was getting a little more of it last night. Then when I woke up this morning it was like everything was there! I knew everything about her, I could channel her personality and everything real easy. I didn't even have to think hard about it it was so natural! It was like... I can be Umeko Prescott! No, I <i>am</i> Umeko Prescott!"<br/>
<br/>
"Really now? And what deep dark secrets lurk inside my cousin's head?" you muse.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want to know?" Sydney... no, Umeko, asks as she gives you a puckish smile. Then to your shock she grabs you, pulls you in, and kisses you. It's not just a peck either but a long, deep and lingering one with lots of tongue.<br/>
<br/>
It is everything you, and everything Jelena, have ever wanted.<br/>
<br/>
So it's almost maddening when she pulls away and you can't help but to want more. Especially as she continues to give you that mischievous look.<br/>
<br/>
"Get a mask onto K.C. and I'll tell you everything about your cousin you'd ever want to know." She then leans in close right next to your ear and softly adds, "And I'll let you do anything you want to me."</span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111122111111
author_id: rugal
title: In and Out of Character
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're taken aback by words like that coming from your cousin's mouth and in shock you can't help but to pull back. "What the hell!?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
That simply causes Umeko to laugh. "Surprising right?" she grins. "There's a lot about her that you don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that supposed to mean?"<br/>
<br/>
But she simply shakes her head and puts her finger in your face. "I told you, get a mask onto K.C. first. You <i>do</i> still have the stuff in Jelena's room don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well sure; yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Then do it when you see her. Then tell me." She looks thoughtful for a second. "Switch into her mask actually, don't just rig it on her with your stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, and then what? And why?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Like I said, get in touch with me and we'll figure something out. As for why?" She gives it another few seconds of thought, tapping her finger against her chin as she does. "Well, that's who you wanted to grab in the first place right? So it'll work out for both of us."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I'm asking about," you counter. "Work out for both of us? What's that supposed to mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll just have to wait and see! Sheesh, you're always so impatient Will, you know that?"<br/>
<br/>
Again it's hard not to think of this girl in front of you as anything other than the real Umeko. Everything is so accurate and on point, a far cry from how down and out of character Sydney was yesterday. It's thrown you completely for a loop. "Okay, fine. I'll get it on her the first opportunity I can. But there's still a third roommate here," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, Zoe," she replies. "Fit her with a mask too, so long as we're on a recruitment drive. Use my stuff in it that way we'll be even on 'recruits' and all. Plus she'd be useful to switch into if we wanted to remain in basically permanent contact or something comes up for Umeko."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, okay," you mutter quietly. It's hard to ignore what just happened after all and you feel that all you can do is just go along with it. Everything else so far has been in character but what she did? Well you're glad she dipped a bit out of character for that. "So I guess under a new identity whatever was making you uncomfortable about, you know, is gone? Because it's not Sydney doing it but Umeko?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hehe," Umeko giggles. "I guess so, huh? Being able to submerge yourself in another identity just changes you doesn't it? Makes you do things you never thought about doing? Because like you said, it's not <i>me</i> doing it but this other person, right?" She reaches over and pinches you softly on the stomach through the thin shirt you're wearing. "Like you were on Friday night. Consider us even."<br/>
<br/>
"So then why don't we keep it up?" you ask as you grab her hand and pull her in close.<br/>
<br/>
Jelena's a girl of merely average height but is still tall enough to where the shorter Umeko has to look up at you. And you look down at her. You want to lean down and plant your lips directly on her own and yet you feel like you're frozen. Jelena's feelings are very strong. She finds Umeko's energy and her upbeat attitude charming. Her short height, slim frame and neotenous face the picture of Japanese kawaii aesthetic. And it's because of those strong feelings that you find yourself unable to do anything more than look.<br/>
<br/>
Because for as cool and composed as Jelena usually is, around someone who truly sets her heart racing she feels as awkward and nervous as Will Prescott around a pretty girl.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko, seemingly expecting something, can instead do nothing but smirk and pull away. "I just stopped by to show you that I'd gotten it all," she says as she turns towards the door. "I've got lunch with mom and dad... with your aunt and uncle, soon. I told them I had to run a quick errand after church so they're expecting me." She gives you another look before opening the door. "Next time I see you, I want you wearing K.C.'s face. Trust me, it'll be for the best."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As it's near lunch and you're feeling bored once your girlfriend-turned-non-blood-related-cousin has left, you finish the brunch you were making for yourself and see who's available for lunch. You get open responses from two people outside the Westside sphere in Nadine Martin and Roxanne Hurley and decide that a lunch with them is a fine enough way to kill time.<br/>
<br/>
You meet the two of them at Milagro (Nadine likes its vegetarian options) and are actually rather thankful that today is one that K.C. has off. Remembering what Sydney had said about a "recruitment drive" however you decide to take time, as you sip a latte and converse, to evaluate your companions.<br/>
<br/>
Jelena knows Nadine, an Eastman girl, quite well as she's the drummer in Sienna's band and in fact the two have been playing together for a number of years. She's an androgynous sort with her slim, boyish figure, masculine manner of dress and her close cropped and neatly styled hair. Yet her face is still distinctly feminine and her voice is soft and pleasant and her personality as well is, though a bit quiet, also relaxed.<br/>
<br/>
Roxanne meanwhile also cuts her hair short but in a more feminine pixie kind of way and indeed she lacks the androgyny of her... well, even Jelena isn't quite sure of their relationship. They're more than friends and at times seem quite serious about one another, at others less so. Roxanne is also much quicker with a snappy and sarcastic remark than her companion. Something she employs as she tells you a story from Friday of having to talk some boys out of being duped into being booze mules for a girl named Mary who was looking for a way to sneak some on campus.<br/>
<br/>
For Roxanne, as Jelena's mind tells you, is a student at St. Xavier's: the snootiest collection of teenagers in the entire county, hell possibly this section of the country. Though Roxanne herself is merely a local who got in through a scholarship and so lacks the kind of self-assured arrogance that comes from families with wealth that goes back generations.<br/>
<br/>
That said you enjoy your time with them and you make mental notes. Oh, they're not necessarily guaranteed additions to your coven; your Sisterhood of Baphomet, perhaps. But they might make good additions all the same. Roxanne especially is a tempting target and you might bring her up to Sydney once you're a bit more settled in and have a better idea as to what you're doing.<br/>
<br/>
After parting you decide to head back home. K.C. you're happy to see, is in while this time Zoe is out (at work, according to K.C.). You ask her if she's going anywhere any time soon and all she can do is shrug and give a non-committal answer saying that she hasn't decided yet. You realize, then, that this is the opportunity you've been waiting for.<br/>
<br/>
You head into Jelena's room and grab one of the blank masks and the container of sealant. You also grab one of the containers of gray goop (marked with your name because Sydney, it turns out, is diligent about this stuff) and a brush from Jelena's art supplies. Without a word you head back out into the living room, walk up to K.C. and press the blank mask to her face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You stand half-nude in that bathroom as you examine yourself. On the surface your body is nothing particularly special. Like Nadine's it's slim with not much in the way of curves either though your ass does stick out just enough to be inviting in the dark skinny pants you're wearing. Up top, however, you're completely bare and you can see a tight stomach, yes, but the breasts are small (smaller than Jelena's) and there's not much in the way of muscle tone.<br/>
<br/>
On your sternum, just under and to the side of one of those breasts is a tattoo. Nothing fancy, instead it's a series of numbers; a date that's very important to K.C. and plays into why she she's all but legally tossed away her full name. There are more tattoos as well. On your right shoulder blade for instance is a design that incorporates a sparrow which K.C. has taken on as something of a personal symbol as it symbolizes things like hard work, productivity and creativity.<br/>
<br/>
On your left bicep is a larger piece that for K.C. means quite a lot as it's one of Jelena's design. Among other features it mixes the flag of where K.C. was born and a rainbow one. Not that K.C. herself is gay but it is instead something to show a bit of solidarity for her friends who are as well as with her sister.<br/>
<br/>
Your face, though, is quite cute and you can see the resemblance, though a bit faint, between K.C. and her younger sister. She's a decent looking girl to be sure but not a head turner. Nothing like Sydney or Umeko. No, it's not looks that draw people to K.C. but, as you'd noted a few nights ago, her charisma. Her casual and approachable demeanor, her accepting and open-minded nature, her lack of desire to do things solely to conform or fit in. That's what brings her to peoples' attention.<br/>
<br/>
And as you think that, as you probe K.C.'s mind, it hits you like a truck. You actually have to grasp onto the sink because the revelation is so surprising to you. Because now?<br/>
<br/>
Now you know exactly why Sydney, why Umeko, was so insistent about you wearing K.C.'s mask.</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111221111111
author_id: rugal
title: A Dinner Date
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You reach over and grab the bra off of the shower curtain rod you'd placed it on after coming into the bathroom. You hadn't even changed clothes once you'd gotten the mask onto K.C. so in a way it was fraught, you standing nude in the living room first as Jelena and then as yourself. Once the mask re-emerged you'd scooped it up and dashed to the bathroom. You were in the process of getting dressed when you caught your first real sight of yourself in the mirror and stopped to examine yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Your new home. Right?<br/>
<br/>
You shake that off however and finish dressing, a thin, striped and distressed sweater that you also grab from the shower curtain rod being the last thing you have to put on. You then head out to the living room as K.C.'s phone is likely still out there but have to stop and pause when you see Jelena. You feel like you can't do much more than look at her and it's she who finally reacts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?"<br/>
<br/>
A simple one word question and it causes a wave of uncertain emotion to wash over you. "Nothing," you finally say. "Is my phone still out here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I put it on the coffee table."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you say as you head over and grab it. You're about to open it to text Umeko when you stop and look back at Jelena. "Hey Yell, you don't feel weird do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really," she answers with little interest. "Besides knowing that you're not really my sister under there, that's a little weird."<br/>
<br/>
That doesn't surprise you of course since you know by now that the magical robotic doubles obey you and can recognize you under disguises. "How much do you know?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I know that I'm really K.C. under this mask. Not that I know what she's thinking or anything." She continues to look at and scroll through her phone. "Basically whatever was going on in your head up to the point you decided my sister was a better model is what I know."<br/>
<br/>
That stings a bit. K.C. would never like to hear her sister talk about herself so dismissively. Sure for a while their relationship was kind of strained and that it took some rather dramatic events (like the date, related to K.C.'s disowning of her given name) to mend things. But K.C. truly does love and even admire her sister who she sees as compassionate, smart and resilient. It's to your own surprise, then, as well as Jelena's that you find yourself leaning down to embrace her in a tight, sisterly hug.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not throwing you away, don't think that. You're great, Yell," you tell her reassuringly.<br/>
<br/>
"Mhm, I wasn't really thinking that you were though," she answers.<br/>
<br/>
You pull back then. You're not sure why you immediately rushed to such an absurd conclusion but you suspect a lot of it is due to the circumstances that led to Jelena coming to live with K.C. and Zoe. And although she does feel great affection and even a bit of protectiveness for her sister, K.C. would never really go all in on emotional outburst like that. So despite what Sydney had said before it's maybe best not to assume you can just waltz right into a new life because you've got their brain and quirks and whatnot. You definitely still need to get a handle on actually working them.<br/>
<br/>
That said it's nothing that should be an issue when dealing with Umeko so you grab your phone from the table and send a message off to her telling her you'll meet her for something to eat if she's up for it. She texts you back a few minutes later to let you know that it's fine and, checking the time, you agree to meet up to grab some food a little after five. That gives you a few hours to get better acquainted with K.C. at least and so you agree that it's fine. She asks about bringing some other people but you tell her to keep it to just the two of you since you'll likely be talking about things which aren't really meant for the ears of those not involved.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick," you tell Jelena. "Got myself a date coming up. Figure I should clean up a bit."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey, so I know you said it was cool and all but like, I hope it's not stereotypical or anything," you say as struggle with the slice of fried pork. K.C.'s only been to Osaka a handful of times and so hasn't quite gotten a handle on chopsticks.<br/>
<br/>
"If I said that it's cool then you don't need to worry about it do you?" Umeko asks before expertly slurping up a nice helping of noodles from her bowl. "You sound so worried," she teases.<br/>
<br/>
"Well sure but it's like I've ever, you know, been on a date," you reply with a bit of nervousness that's uncharacteristic of K.C., "with a girl and all."<br/>
<br/>
Umeko's eyes go wide. "Wait! Is that what you think? That this is a <i>date</i>!?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well that's what it is right? The two of us meeting out at restaurant for dinner." You decide to play it cool and so relax in your chair a bit. "The fact that you're head over heels for me. You think it's a date too right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean..." Umeko tries to say but her face is turning red and she can barely get another cluster of noodles in her mouth. "Is that Will talking or K.C.?" she asks in a hushed tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Dunno. Is that Sydney asking or Umeko?" you retort while you hold her eye.<br/>
<br/>
"So you figured it out then? That Umeko... you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Well I mean it's not like she ever hid that she was into girls. 'Least not with her friends." You shift a little and unconsciously rub at the back of your head the way K.C. does when she feels uncomfortably at a loss for words. "From family I guess it's a different story though."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like she can just tell her family. I mean her parents... you know how they are."<br/>
<br/>
"My aunt and uncle aren't going to disown her for it or anything," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"No of course not. But it'd be kind of awkward for a little while all the same. I think they'd just be kind of confused about it," she says and it's her turn to look uncomfortable. "Anyway I wasn't talking about that. I was being a little more specific."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean about Umeko liking K.C.?" You shrug at that. "Not like she wasn't super fucking obvious about it but it's not like anything was going to happen there since K.C. is straight as an arrow and all."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't think she doesn't know that? The heart wants what it wants though. You can't really choose what that is."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean we can now considering it's <i>us</i> in the driver's seat and all," you reply before deciding to change tracks. "And speaking of choosing, we're going to need to add some new members to the club eventually right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," she answers.<br/>
<br/>
"I was hanging out with a couple of friends before I switched and one of them, Roxanne, is someone we should keep an eye on," you tell her. "She goes to St. Xavier's."<br/>
<br/>
Umeko's eyes go wide at that. "She's loaded?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's not," you clarify. "She lives in town and commutes in but we get her and we could maybe grab a couple of people there too."<br/>
<br/>
Umeko looks like she's thinking it over but when she talks it's not to ask about Roxanne. "Did you grab Zoe too?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "She wasn't back by the time I left."<br/>
<br/>
"What are we going to do about Kurt?"<br/>
<br/>
That surprises you. Kurt Trapp is the drummer in K.C. and Jelena's band (Zoe is another member) but you get what she means. This is going to be a sisterhood and Kurt kind of screws that up. "Leave him be," you finally says.<br/>
<br/>
"Or kick him out," she counters. "K.C. bitches about him being catty and running off keyboard players anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"We'd need a new drummer then." You think for a second. "We could get a mask onto Nadine, the other girl I was with. She drums in Sienna's band." You sigh however. "But I think we'll wait before doing anything like that."<br/>
<br/>
That causes a bit of inquiry from your companion.<br/>
<br/>
"I had some time to think earlier and, well, that arts council performance? I think K.C.'s going to have a change of heart about it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You talk it over through the rest of dinner and have to admit that you like the idea of playing music and being in a band and if you're going to do that then why not try and be successful? Umeko agrees with you both because Sydney herself is excited about the idea of "subliminal messaging reaching a larger audience" (you're not sure if she's serious or joking) and because Umeko herself had been wanting K.C. to do it.<br/>
<br/>
But that's not until this coming Saturday so you decide to hold off on changing the band lineup until after the performance since while a week is enough time to practice it might not be enough time to have a new person learn all the songs.<br/>
<br/>
That's not all there is to be excited about however because as you're leaving Umeko suggests heading back to the house for a little together time and to drive the point home she places a hand on your leg and begins to softly run her fingers up it. As you're driving at the moment it takes an incredible amount of willpower to not jerk the wheel and allow yourself to be distracted. Thankfully you're able to make it back to the house with no problem but before you get out Umeko leans over.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey so I was thinking. We're going to really do this right?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"If you're up for it."<br/>
<br/>
"I am. It's what Umeko wants so I just have to subsume myself into her. But," she pauses. "You fixed up Jelena's mask right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"What about K.C.'s?"<br/>
<br/>
You look over at her and cock an eyebrow. "Not yet," you reply simply.<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't get a chance to do Umeko's mask either," she states. "So I was thinking that after we do this would you want to, I don't know, swap masks?"<br/>
<br/>
That takes you by surprise but you keep your composure and say nothing so she continues.<br/>
<br/>
"I get K.C.'s and you get Umeko's," she says. "I mean you'd want to know what's going on in her head yourself right? And you could, you know, look at her body whenever. Do whatever you wanted with it. That'd be nice right?"</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112211111112
author_id: rugal
title: The Cousin Consummation
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You want to switch masks?" you ask as the two of you sit in the car. To be honest it's an intriguing idea, you having Umeko's mask and all and given that she's family you can't help but to think that maybe it'd be for the best. However...<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Umeko answers. "If you want of course."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," she says with trepidation, "it's just a silly idea that popped into my head. No need to overthink it."<br/>
<br/>
A number of thoughts run through your head as you try to figure out why she'd suggest it though. "Is it because..." You pause and try to land on just one of them and eventually settle with the one that seems the most plausible. "Is it because you're uncomfortable with what'll probably happen when we go inside?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not," she starts with a shake of the head. "Look, I just said it was a silly idea okay? That's all."<br/>
<br/>
"Sydney," you say firmly and the use of her real name causes her to look directly at you, "I'm nervous and worried too. I mean for me it's just... we might be doing things in there, you know? Things that I don't think either of us have ever done; that <i>I've</i> certainly never done. And K.C.? I mean forget it, the thought's never crossed her mind."<br/>
<br/>
Umeko stares at you but it's not really one of incredulity or offense. It's more like she's trying to gauge what her own response should be to you as you watch her lips ever so slightly part and close as she breathes. "I guess you're right," she finally says. "Umeko knows how she feels but she's never had a girlfriend before and with someone that she's crazy over too it's a lot. Then there's me and even if I pull her over me it's still hard to wrap my head around it because I'm not... you know."<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing and allow her to continue when she finds her voice again.<br/>
<br/>
"Yesterday when I came over and I, you know, I kissed you? That wasn't anything I felt strongly about. That was like me teasing you and I guess it was like Umeko teasing Jelena."<br/>
<br/>
"Does she not like Jelena?"<br/>
<br/>
Umeko blinks. "What? No, she likes Jelena plenty! Just not like that, I guess," she admits. "She just kind of sees Jelena as K.C.'s younger sister and she kind of... I don't think she wants someone younger than her or at least someone still in high school." She offers you a sympathetic look. "So sorry about that too, Will. Even if she wasn't gay, even if you weren't her cousin, you probably still wouldn't have had a shot."<br/>
<br/>
You recoil a bit but try to keep a neutral face as the fact is you're not all that surprised either. "Okay, well, if it makes you uncomfortable then we don't need to do anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Will, no, we have to," she adamantly declares. "Because the stuff with Baphomet and the leylines, there's a very sexual element to it of course. We went over this, right? So if we're making this Brotherhood into a Sisterhood then," she pauses and bites her lip, "then I'm going to have to get used to being a bit sapphic."<br/>
<br/>
She leans over the center console and places a hand on your cheek. "I told you that I wanted to make you happy too didn't I? I had this whole, like, heartfelt confession and everything," she smiles.<br/>
<br/>
You place a hand onto her's and then grab hold of her other hand. You lean in and plant your lips onto her's. They part and soon the both of you are gently-yet-passionately probing one another's mouths with your tongues. You break only enough to suggest that you go inside. Everybody else must be out because the door's locked so once you're inside you guide Umeko back to K.C.'s room and lock the door behind you before guiding her over to the bed.<br/>
<br/>
It's an awkward thing with false starts and fumbling before the two of you settle into something of a groove and yet you don't care. For you it's the best night of your life.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Early the next morning you decide to scope out what's going on at school and to get a feel for any additional members so you head into Jelena's room around when she wakes up and, having treated K.C.'s mask last night after your tryst, swap back into Jelena. At school there's some idle chatter regarding Jelena and the "new girl" being seen at the Warehouse together on Friday but it seems that with the weekend having passed so too has most interest in that and you don't plan on tossing in kindling to reignite that fire any time soon.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, going through a school day as her reveals to you that Jelena's social circle casts a wide enough net that you have quite a number of possibilities for new members. Someone like Emily Sparks for instance who's button cute and well liked by most who know her (Jelena holds no romantic affection for her but does find her incredibly charming). Jelena, unsurprisingly, also takes an acting class and as she's good friends with arch-theater kid Charles Hartlein she knows plenty in that group as well as those in the various music programs that seem to all gravitate towards one another; Emily being one such example.<br/>
<br/>
Her first period is a smaller class taught by Ms. Willett, a younger teacher as popular for her approachable demeanor as she is for the fact that she's quite pretty. Would someone like her make for a good recruit, you wonder?<br/>
<br/>
And of course there's her closest friends and you wonder about the possibility of adding Sienna into the mix, give her to Sydney, and then... your heart skips a beat at the thought. That's all if you wanted to keep it just in Westside too because how great would someone like Christina Yves, the charismatic punk rocker from Eastman, be in this group that you're building? If you wanted to win win friends and influence people it would be hard to do better.<br/>
<br/>
It's a lot for you to chew on as the last bell rings and you tell your friends that you have some things to take care of at home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I take it my sister had work today?" you ask as you set your things down on the love seat and flop down.<br/>
<br/>
Zoe, phone in hand as she lays across from you on the couch, looks over. "Yeah, right after class. Only had enough time to get changed," she says before looking back at her phone. "Shit, I guess I need to start getting ready too. I'm working the evening shift tonight."<br/>
<br/>
She makes a sour expression which you find amusing as her face seems to default to a sort of Debbie Downer look. Though in truth she's no more cynical than any number of people that Jelena knows.<br/>
<br/>
"So I guess it's just us for a little bit?" you ask. You then push yourself off of the loveseat, go to stand over Zoe and once she's looked at you lean down to kiss her softly. "Want to make the best of it?" you ask after pulling away.<br/>
<br/>
"What would Kay say if she found us?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing that I wouldn't tell her to," you answer as she pulls you on top of her. You proceed to kiss and nibble at her neck for a bit as she moans and gasps and you feel her fingers dig into your back. "So you didn't have any problems today?" you ask after pulling back.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," she answers. "I guess a night's sleep is all I really need to get what I need. Zoe's mind thinks this is really fucking weird and more than a little wrong by the way."<br/>
<br/>
You can only laugh at that. "Of course it's taboo. That's what makes it fun, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Zoe had gotten home last night before Umeko had to leave and so the two of you had wasted no time in getting a mask onto her and treating both it and Umeko's. It was Sydney's idea to give herself a day as Zoe and you ask her now if she's going to stick it out or switch back to Umeko tomorrow. That merely elicits a shrug from her.<br/>
<br/>
"By the way," she starts as she looks up at you, "you come across any good ideas today?"<br/>
<br/>
"A few if we wanted to stick to Jelena's circle," you tell her. "Chris Yves from Eastman would make a good addition. Maybe a teacher like Ms. Willett. Sienna..." You pause though as inspiration strikes. "We can actually kill two birds with one stone actually if we want to dump Kurt. Get a mask not just onto Nadine but onto Sienna and Andi as well." The last being Andrea Kramer, a Keyserling student who plays bass for Sienna's band. "Nadine can pull double duty in both bands and we'll have them under our control."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't quite bite so you throw another piece of bait out. "There's Roxanne as well if we wanted to grab some muties."<br/>
<br/>
Zoe squirms herself into a sitting position. "That might be fun but I was thinking that we could look on the college grounds too. There's a girl in one of Zoe's classes that'd probably make for a good recruit for both the Sisterhood and the band."<br/>
<br/>
"What does she play?"<br/>
<br/>
"A couple different things," she says. "Guitar, bass, I think she does drums too. Hmm, and you know Lina right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I've met her a few times," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"I think she's more Zoe's friend than Kay or Yell's. But she's a good hookup for a lot of people looking for weed so, you know, hearts and minds and all. Oh!" she exclaims with revelatory surprise. "There's another girl in one of Zoe's classes, Lina's roommate actually. She does some work for one of the professors. Guy gives a lot of girls the creeps but," she's practically beaming, "supposedly he's really into, like, magic and shit. Has like a fancy house with a big library and lots of weird books with names that nobody can pronounce."<br/>
<br/>
You immediately follow her line of thought. Grab this girl and maybe you can use her to get in with this professor and if he's into magic like the rumors say then maybe see if you can raid his library for information on Baphomet and possibly other things too.<br/>
<br/>
But you worry that something like that might be going a little fast. Just this weekend alone you've expanded the group to four members and this morning told K.C. to talk to Charlotte about the arts council performance too because you'd be doing it. Maybe you should slow it down a bit before adding more members.</span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111122111111123
author_id: rugal
title: Dealers and Supplies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You want to slow down a bit because things have been such a whirlwind the last few days. However you can't help but to feel like you're on a roll right now and want to keep moving forward lest you lose all your momentum. "If we want stick around Keyserling right now, when's the earliest we could get a mask on someone?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Probably ASAP if Lina's not doing anything," Zoe answers. "Actually, I think Zoe's stash is running a little low and she's been meaning to score some more anyway so I can probably set up a meeting."<br/>
<br/>
That seals it for you then. "Okay, then that's what we'll do," you tell her. "Do you can have her come out here so there's no risk of us getting caught when we try and get a mask onto her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably," she replies. "Usually Zoe just does it at her place but I guess if we don't want to risk her roommate finding anything..."<br/>
<br/>
Not that you couldn't fit her roommate with a mask at the same time but you only have two left out of the supply that Sydney had brought a few days back and you're not even sure if this roommate would make a good addition. But this Lina girl, if she's supplying weed? Well that's a hard opportunity to pass up. "Okay, well, let's go with that then," you say. "Tell her that you're going to be getting ready for work so you won't have time to stop by."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," she nods, "that's what I was going to do. But, you know, it's kinda hard to do anything with you straddling me like this."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get the stuff," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
You give her another kiss before hopping off and heading back to Jelena's room where you find the bag with everything you need. Just to be doubly safe you check to make sure everything is there and then haul it out. You place the bag onto the kitchen counter and then place yourself back onto the love seat and begin browsing through Jelena's social media liking and commenting as required until you finally hear something from Zoe.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, she should be out here in like fifteen or twenty minutes."<br/>
<br/>
You look up from your phone. "Not enough time for us to do anything it seems."<br/>
<br/>
"Well I actually <i>do</i> have to start getting ready for work so I'll probably get started on that," she states. "You'll be alright getting her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't see why not," you answer. "Actually if it's fine with you I might give myself a day or two in her mask to see where we should be making inroads."<br/>
<br/>
"No skin off my nose," she says before coming over to give you yet another kiss. It seems that after last night she's quickly gotten used to having to be "a bit sapphic". You watch her walk down the hall and disappear into her room. Zoe Sabin is cute in an unconventional sort of way you admit and while Jelena has certainly never had any sorts of thoughts, romantic or otherwise, towards her sister's best friend you do feel a part of her that thrills over what's just happened over the last twenty minutes or so.<br/>
<br/>
Probably the part of her that likes going against the conventional.<br/>
<br/>
But it's nothing more than a passing thought and you go back to your phone and social media until you hear the doorbell ring. You get up and answer it and are greeted by a young woman a little shorter than yourself. Her hair is a long dark brown in very loose gurls that frames a face with large chipmunk cheeks and squinty smile. She doesn't look like a particularly chubby girl but her face and the bulky Keyserling hoodie she wears certainly make her look meatier than she actually is.<br/>
<br/>
This must be Lina.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh hey!" she greets you. "Is Zoe here, ah..."<br/>
<br/>
"Jelena," you answer. Clearly the handful of times you've met hasn't left much of an impression on her.<br/>
<br/>
"Right, yeah, I've seen you around. Uh speaking of is Zoe? Around I mean? She wanted to get some, uh..."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry, no narcs here," you declare before inviting her in. "She's getting ready for work but she'll probably be out in a few minutes. Come in; take a seat."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, thanks," she says as she goes to take a seat on the couch. "Sheesh, I can't remember the last time I was out here. Usually when I meet Zoe and K.C. and them it's at a show or party or something. You know K.C. I take it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm her sister so I suppose I do."<br/>
<br/>
Lina's eyes go wide. "Right!" she exclaims. "Yeah, okay, the one staying with her. Oh and you're in her band too aren't you? Shit, I <i>thought</i> you looked familiar! Sorry about that, I'm Lina."<br/>
<br/>
"Jelena," you reply in turn. "So can I get you something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, that's fine. I'll just be in and out as soon as Zoe's out here."<br/>
<br/>
"No way. I was actually about to get myself something so I don't want to be rude." You give her a friendly smile. "I refuse to be a bad hostess."<br/>
<br/>
You head back into the kitchen and unzip the backpack digging out what you'll need. You briefly wonder if you should remove Jelena's mask but decide against it so as not to miss your chance. You're already a skinny guy anyway and as Jelena you're in a dress over a pair of dark tights so there's no real risk of you Hulking out of her clothes. You place everything you need onto the counter but make it a point to grab the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Here," you say as you head back out into the living room. Lina barely has time to respond before you've pressed the mask to her face.<br/>
<br/>
You call out to Zoe saying that it's copying her before going over to the love seat and removing your current mask. You come to and it's still another few minutes before Lina's mask reappears. You scoop it up, place Jelena's mask onto her and tell her to head back to her room so the both of you can get changed. She goes and you take a look at the mask before following her. The name <i>LINA SARAH MINKOWSKI</i> is etched into the back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have a quite a bit to chew on as you drive back to the student apartments just off the Keyserling campus that Lina lives in. For a start is just how long you're going to stay in Lina's mask. You'd said a day or two to Sydney but will that be enough you wonder? Because you begin to unpack things and quickly realize that while she wouldn't win a popularity contest, Lina Minkowski enjoys a pretty healthy web of connections.<br/>
<br/>
For starters there's where she gets her weed from: an acquaintance and occasional fuckbuddy named Karl Tollefson. A young man who fancies himself a freethinker and a fighter for environmental and leftist causes when the reality is that he's a stoner who's more a freeloader than a freethinker who cloaks himself in righteous causes to downplay his comfortably upper middle class background. If it wasn't for the fact he's got a nice dick and enough knowledge to be able to put it to use (and the weed) then Lina would want nothing to do with him.<br/>
<br/>
Where does he get his supply from? Lina doesn't know nor does she particularly care. All she knows is that she gets some from him and then sells mainly to other girls who don't want to buy from a "dirty hippie" (something that makes Lina laugh; Karl's appearance is as much affectation as everything else) before giving a percentage back to him to, presumably, pass back to his supplier. Apparently the supplier is serious about getting his cut too because Lina once managed to sleep her way out of passing anything back and saw Karl a few days later looking mighty banged up. Of course nobody said anything about what happened but she'd had her suspicions all the same.<br/>
<br/>
But who does Lina sell too? Well a wide variety. There's Mary Johnson and Allison Garner who are friends of Karl (Lina has no idea why they don't just buy from him). Andi Kramer -- a connection to Jelena you realize -- is another. One of the Alphas, that is the popular girls in the Alpha Theta Phi sorority, will usually come by to purchase a larger than normal amount since it's being shared among a sorority house. There's Zoe of course, probably Lina's most reliably customer and someone she actually does consider a friend beyond their "business dealings".<br/>
<br/>
There's also Lizzie and that gives you a pause because you suspect this is the same girl that your girlfriend had mentioned earlier. Lizzie Cates is a girl cut from the same bohemian cloth as those who hang around the Petrovic sisters and while she's willowy with dark hair cut short and shaggy she's got a nice face and nobody would ever mistake her being androgynous like, say, Nadine. She does indeed play a variety of instruments including the drums so you realize this is a stroke of luck. She's a frequent enough customer that getting her should be a cinch.<br/>
<br/>
Should you want to.<br/>
<br/>
Because Lina's roommate, a girl named Melody Weiss, does indeed do work for the professor that Sydney had mentioned. Blackwell is his name and like she'd said, he's an older and corpulent man who sounds very much like he's trying to appear sophisticated and intellectual. Lina knows a few girls who do indeed regard him as a creep though mainly in a more lecherous manner. As for Melody, well, she never really talks about it. Just says that she goes over to help him catalog books and translate some things as she's something of a language wiz.<br/>
<br/>
She too would be someone good to get not just for what Sydney mentioned but with her mind you might have an easier time decoding the book. But as you unlock the door to Lina's apartment and note that nobody's home you give yourself pause. You've got one mask left in your current batch. You're right now wearing one of a girl who can open up a lot of doors for you and the coven that you're building. You've got that music performance on Saturday if K.C. did what you told her to.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it really is time to let off the gas a bit and just cruise for the rest of the week. Take stock, replenish your supply of materials, figure out your next move and just enjoy the gains you've made so far.</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111221111111233
author_id: rugal
title: Leisure Time and Letterman Jackets
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You sit back on the couch, joint in hand and take a puff. It's not the first time that Lina's dug into her own supply after all and her mindset is that she paid for it, she's sending a cut back so she's as entitled to her stuff as any of her customers. It's a nice way to take the edge off after... well, not a particularly hard day truth be told. Lina doesn't really <i>have</i> "hard days". That's not to say everything is always easy street but she doesn't like to stress over every little thing.<br/>
<br/>
She's smart enough to be able to get through her classes with little issue and though she's got a part time job it's in fact a supplement (and something of a cover for her family) to the money she makes supplying the female population of Keyserling with what the baggies of magic herb that they seem to need. She's also not dumb enough to get herself so baked that she can barely functioning, just enough to give her a buzz and help her relax.<br/>
<br/>
It also means you don't even jump when the front door flies open and Lina's roommate storms in, practically tosses her backpack into a corner and collapses onto  the opposite end of the couch. You glance over at her and extend the joint in her direction. It takes a few seconds for her to notice and you let out a small laugh because you can see her own disgusted refusal. Melody is definitely someone who's wound a little too tight and in fact with her hair often pulled back like it is she even has the look of someone constantly straining against themself.<br/>
<br/>
"What's eating at you today?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think?" she retorts and you brace yourself as you have a pretty good idea as to where it's going to go. "Blackwell decides he wants to double check something from the school library's special collection. That he wants <i>me</i> to go get it. I don't know what for and I tell him that, you know, I'm busy cataloging some other stuff but he just tells me he's too busy to go himself."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh."<br/>
<br/>
"So he gives me the name and I go down there and of course this just has to be the day that <i>fucking Gwen</i> is helping out." She places extra emphasis, and extra venom, onto the "fucking Gwen" part. "And so I am <i>not</i> dealing with her and I just head back and tell him that they didn't have any luck finding it. And you know what Blackwell does?"<br/>
<br/>
"No idea."<br/>
<br/>
"He shorts me!" she explodes. "I've cataloged half his library, helped him with translations and that creepy old bastard says I disappointed him, that he 'thought me more competent than the other halfwits' and docks me pay for the day!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sucks."<br/>
<br/>
"And it's... it's all <i>her</i> fault!"<br/>
<br/>
"You sure you don't want any of this?" you ask once more extending the joint and the offer.<br/>
<br/>
Melody, of course, refuses it even harder. "I'm just going to hop in the shower or something and give myself time to calm down or something." she replies though she sounds no calmer."<br/>
<br/>
Still you watch her hop up from the couch and can do nothing but shrug. Not like she's ever accepted any of Lina's offers to get high before. "Suit yourself," is all you can say as she marches off to the other side of the apartment.<br/>
<br/>
<i>God,</i> comes a thought. You wouldn't expect it by looking at her but Melody Weiss is just so damn tiring to deal with. For all that she's smart she's also high strung, neurotic, not at all humble and she really hates Gwen Smart. Well, hate might be a strong word but Gwen does cause unusually large amounts of seething from her. Because Gwen is pretty, Gwen is popular and Gwen somehow got the position as aide for the special collections wing of the university's library.<br/>
<br/>
Melody spent half an evening ranting and raving about that when it'd happened. It wasn't fair, <i>she's</i> the one interested in all those old manuscripts and books and dead languages while Gwen is just some bubbleheaded bimbo who probably undid a few buttons and pushed her chest out to get that position. Lina had asked why she would've wanted that position then and Melody had simply said that it "looked good on your resume".<br/>
<br/>
Of course if Gwen had more boobs than brains Lina had wondered why she'd care about something like that but she kept that comment to herself. She knows enough to know that it's better to let Melody vent until she's lost steam than to try and counter, argue with or needle her. And is Gwen really that vacuous? Lina doesn't have the faintest idea. She knows <i>of</i> Gwen -- there are few people on campus who don't -- but she doesn't actually know her, doesn't share classes with her and has never so much as exchanged greetings passing each other on campus.<br/>
<br/>
But Lina does know that she's very popular and that's enough to intrigue you and give you something to check on tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's late in the afternoon the next day by the time you have the chance to head over to the library hoping that you're able to spy on Gwen. You take a table near the special collection, plop your backpack onto it and pull out an assignment for her econ class and half-pretend to work on it. It's a few minutes before you finally spot something out of the corner of your eye and decide to look without making it obvious.<br/>
<br/>
Gwen definitely stands out compared to most others. Her hair is long and red, her chest is large and she's stunningly gorgeous. Lina knows enough to know that she's a junior and the head of Keyserling's cheer team and you wonder if that means she went to Westside. Maybe not though because you're pretty sure you'd remember someone like her even if that would've made you a freshman at the time. Maybe she did and she's one of those ugly duckling late bloomer types?<br/>
<br/>
But it's not like any of that matters though. What does matter is that yes, Gwen is beautiful and yes Gwen is popular. But what else is there to observe about her? Well you get a glimpse of her popularity almost immediately when you see a guy with shaggy blonde hair casually stroll up to her and start initiating conversation. You can't really hear what he's saying but he seems animated and confident all the same.<br/>
<br/>
For her part Gwen seems to mildly entertain him for all of forty-five seconds and then shakes her head. She goes to step past the guy but he throws an arm out and seems very persistent. Gwen, though clearly irritated as she gives him a sharp look, she seems to keep her composure and again while you can't hear anything it's easy enough to tell that she's shutting him down. But it's not until another guy with dark hair comes up and punches him in the shoulder that the first guy seems to finally relent. You watch the dark-haired guy make what you figure to be an apology and then practically drag his friend away.<br/>
<br/>
"--an't blame a guy for trying right? They say you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take."<br/>
<br/>
It's Horny Blondeman saying that as he and his friend come walking in your general direction. It's as they're passing that the blonde flashes you a quick smile and a wink though you just let out a noise and roll your eyes before going back to your econ assignment while his buddy chastises him about how nobody's interested in his "horseshit".<br/>
<br/>
You decide to stay for another twenty minutes but nothing much else of interest happens so you pack up and get ready to head out when you get a text from Umeko -- who must have gotten your number from Zoe -- asking for you to come out to K.C.'s place. You text back saying that you'll head out there right now. As for Gwen, you're not sure that you learned much of anything about her that you didn't already know aside from the fact she might not be as dumb as Melody seems to think but all the same you make a point to put her name on your shortlist of candidates.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Well yeah I switched back," Umeko says with just a bit of a whine in her voice. "Zoe's nice and all but it's just kind of weird being in here with your two robot buddies and knowing neither of them are actually you. You ready to switch back?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I'm going to stick it out as Lina for a few more days," you tell her. "Things are pretty easy for her right now and she's connected enough for me to scope out candidates. I already checked in on Gwen Smart today."<br/>
<br/>
"Gwen Smart... right! Yeah Umeko's seen her around. She's definitely pretty but, hmm, I guess not her type?" she says as she makes a face. "She's not really into the perky sorority sister thing. The girls that might put her parents on edge like K.C. are more her speed which is why you should switch back already. Or even Jelena, that'd work too."<br/>
<br/>
"If she wants to be so rebellious maybe she should swing by Lina's some time then," you say.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko giggles and then gives you a quick peck. "She's never gotten high or anything and I don't want to risk, like, getting in that much trouble with her parents."<br/>
<br/>
"Sucks for you I guess. Anyway what'd you want me to come over for."<br/>
<br/>
"Well for starters if we're talking about candidates then K.C. told me something pretty interesting earlier," she states. "She said that Charlotte was really happy that she finally accepted the invite to the music fest since I guess Charlotte's interning for the sales department at the MacGregor Media building. So actually getting one of the more popular local bands to play that show will look really good for her if she wants to get hired on."<br/>
<br/>
"And if she's interning for a company that oversees a bunch of radio stations then you figure she's as good a candidate as any?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right," she nods. "So that's one thing but there was something else too."<br/>
<br/>
You follow her gaze as she looks down at an old Candyland box sitting on the coffee table. You eye it oddly. "The fuck do you want to play a shitty old children's game for?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"We're not going to play anything, sweetie," she dimples. "This is a tutoring session."</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112211111112331
author_id: rugal
title: Dangerous Doors
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You eye Umeko and then the Candyland box with suspicion. A tutoring session? For what? "I don't see what a board game is going to teach me," you say dryly.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not... Look Will, just open the box, okay!? Jeez!"<br/>
<br/>
You want to laugh at having rattled her but decide that's likely not a good idea so you simply lean forward, lift off the top of the box and... "What... the hell is <i>this</i>?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
You see two objects in the box and gingerly reach in to grab one and pull it out. It's about a foot long and made of wood. There was some obvious carving going on because one end is almost like a grip while the other end is knob shaped. In fact if you didn't know any better you'd say that it and its companion in the box are both rather phallic. A pair of long wooden dicks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh..." you blurt out as you hold up one of the wooden dicks.<br/>
<br/>
"They're wands, Will. For meditation." she insists as she reaches into the box and grabs the other one. She then grabs tightly near the bottom with one hand while taking the other and firmly grasping the... well the shaft, you suppose. "They're for focusing. I made them last week and since we're finally slowing down a bit I had my <i>pedisequos</i>, uh the one that's currently being Sydney McGlynn that is, bring them and some other things by earlier." She takes and then releases a breath. "Anyway you hold it tightly like this and then you concentrate."<br/>
<br/>
"On...?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," she answers bluntly. "Whatever it is that needs to be concentrated on. In this case it's all about Baphomet of course and sort of synchronizing your thoughts, synchronizing <i>you</i>, with the plane where he, you know, dwells." With that she shrinks back a bit. "At least that's what my dad's notes said if I read them right."<br/>
<br/>
"They're not straightforward or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"They are but there's also room for interpretation. Not everything is totally spelled out." She then stands up and beckons you to follow her. You head down the hall and into Zoe's bedroom where she opens up the closet and parts some of the clothes. She points out the otherwise empty wall.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay?" you ask confused. "That sure is a wall."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a wall, Will. It's a door."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? Looks like a wall to me."<br/>
<br/>
"But it's not. It <i>is</i> a door," she insists. "It's a door for Baphomet. See a lot of this stuff is all about belief. You can't summon Baphomet if you don't accept him. You can't accept him if you don't believe that he's real."<br/>
<br/>
"And this door does that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's part of it, same as the wands," she explains. "Basically it's like this: if I told you that Washington D.C. is the capital of the United States you'd believe that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well duh, that's a fact."<br/>
<br/>
"So you have fact-based belief. Something you believe because it's a universal truth. Water is made out of two parts hydrogen, one part oxygen. Things like that. But there's another kind too so let me ask you this. A month ago, if I'd told you there was a book that allows you to make masks that you can use to turn into other people, would you have believed me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably not," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Because that's absurd right? But now you believe it don't you? You look at yourself and you look at me and it's impossible to deny that it exists, isn't it?" She looks mighty confident in herself. "That's the other type of belief. The kind that is so in your face that it's not a simple matter of fact but a case of it being undeniable no matter how ridiculous. That's the kind of belief you need to have to accept Baphomet."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," you start, "so I have this belief and the wall is a door. Then what?"<br/>
<br/>
She takes her wand and touches it to the wall. "The wand makes you focus and meditate, helps you secure your belief in Baphomet. It's also used to draw the door. You trace it along the wall--"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't see anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Because you're not making anything visible, Will!" she responds and sounds just a little indignant. "Again it's all about belief. You trace the door and the shapes and symbols that go around it and you <i>believe</i> it's there and you <i>believe</i> in Baphomet and little by little he comes through the door and makes himself known to you. Even if you're not fully aware of it."<br/>
<br/>
You give it a moment of thought. "This all sounds really Jungian," you state to Umeko's confusion. "You're not taking psychology classes? Umeko never took them? Well Lina did and read up about it a little more out of vague. Drawing mandalas, tapping into archetypes within the collective unconscious. Is Baphomet just your Philemon then?"<br/>
<br/>
"I... I don't know, Will. I don't really know what any of that means. I only know what was in my dad's notes, okay?" She then heads out and you follow her back to the living room. There's another box on the coffee table that she opens. She pulls out some papers and hands them to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Here, it's the designs and symbols, uh mandalas or whatever you want to call them, for the door. When you get back do it in a place you don't normally look since, you know, it's easier to believe that something's there when you know there's typically not. That's what the notes said anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright. Is this all you wanted to show me?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Need me to give you a ride back to Umeko's?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, that's fine," she says with a shake of her head. "I told Zoe to rent out some real practice space for the week so I'm holding down the fort here and doing research away from the prying eyes of her parents. I'll get a ride from them when I get back."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay then. By the way we need to get around to making more masks. We've only got one left," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'll tell Zoe to grab some stuff on the way back," she answers. "You have any idea who you'll be getting next?"<br/>
<br/>
"A few names. The ones we discussed earlier," you answer. "I'll give 'em to you since I've got Lina."<br/>
<br/>
You're about to leave when she grabs your hand however. "Hey wait, before you go..." she starts and shuffles nervously. "I mean, we've got plenty of time until they're back so I was thinking, you know."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes light up and you allow her to lead you back to Zoe's room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You look like you're in a good mood," Melody greets you from the kitchen as you enter the apartment. "You meet up with your hippie boyfriend or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's not my boyfriend," you sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? Because I heard you last week after you and him came home. For not being your boyfriend you got really into it."<br/>
<br/>
"What can I say? He's a useless dickhead otherwise but in the bedroom..." you practically shiver. "Maybe I should set you guys up. He'd get you to loosen up."<br/>
<br/>
"Gross," she replies while you laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"So you making us dinner tonight?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Pan-fried garlic tofu if you want any."<br/>
<br/>
"Gross," you say in imitation of her. "But I guess I'll have some. I don't really feel like going out again. So, everything go good with the professor today?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't see him," she answers. "I guess he had something he was busy with. It was just Lucy and me today." She pauses and makes a noise. "God I'm glad she apparently had her own thing going on. I hate dealing with her, she's such a bitch."<br/>
<br/>
That catches your attention. Not about Lucy being a bitch but just the name Lucy in general. You know from what Melody's said that the "Lucy" she's talking about is Lucy Vredenburg and if you don't remember Gwen ever going to Westside you certainly remember Lucy. She was the head cheerleader your sophomore year and was an object of desire for approximately ninety-nine percent of the school's male population.<br/>
<br/>
She also happens to be Cindy Vredenburg's older sister so you're not surprised to hear that she's a bitch. Not because Cindy is -- though she has her moments -- but because from what you've overheard during the times where Cindy and Yumi and some of the other cheerleaders join Jenny for lunch she was one to Chelsea and they suspect that it's why Chelsea hates Cindy so much beyond just viewing her as a rival.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway you're not surprised that she goes to Keyserling but you <i>are</i> surprised that she's working for this same professor that Melody is. You wouldn't have taken someone like her for wanting to do work for a middle-aged professor and his book collection though you suppose you wouldn't have taken someone looking like Gwen as wanting to do work in the university's musty old library either.<br/>
<br/>
It does make Lucy an intriguing candidate for your coven however. With her it'd almost be like combining Gwen and Melody into one person. Okay well you wouldn't have Melody's smarts or language prowess but she'd put you close to Blackwell who Sydney seemed interested in and if she's the one getting the mask, well, you suspect she'd probably appreciate being someone like Lucy over being someone like Melody.<br/>
<br/>
But Gwen herself is still a great choice too. You wonder what if there might be something of interest, something that could help you with the book, in that wing of the library. Plus Lina is pretty sure that she's a member of Alpha Theta Phi so get a mask onto her and you can use a few of the sorority members to fill the last few slots (by your estimation you'd have four left). Living in the sorority house would certainly make it easier for you and Sydney to keep in touch during the times you don't want to be K.C. or Jelena.<br/>
<br/>
But the candidate that Sydney put forward, Charlotte Dahl, is intriguing as well. If she interns for one of the local media companies, if she's looking to get into the media business then she might be useful to have under your control, like a sort of Minister of Propaganda. Especially if Sydney hasn't actually been joking about things like subliminal messaging.</span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111122111111123313
author_id: rugal
title: A Real Dahl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>To be honest with yourself you're not quite sure how you'd get either Gwen or Lucy. Well that's not totally true, you do have an immediate thought as to how you could get Gwen but it's a convoluted and roundabout plan that would involve getting one of the Alphas -- that is the girls in the sorority -- first and then using her to get Gwen. But that's an unwieldy and frankly unfeasible plan for a number of reasons chief among them being that you don't know when you could even do it.<br/>
<br/>
The Alphas might be customers but that doesn't mean they're necessarily friends. Sure Lina might see some of them at a party or they might cross one another in the hall and it's not like she or they hate or disparage one another. College may have its own drama and rivalries but thankfully it's nothing like high school after all. So realistically the only time you could grab one would be when one of them comes around to buy and it's not like you know when that'll be since their buying habits aren't on any kind of fixed schedule. Some times you're surprised at how fast they can go through what they purchase, some times they can stretch it out.<br/>
<br/>
So Gwen is off the table you think and Lucy? Well you're rooming with someone who does work with her but it's not like <i>they're</i> particularly friendly with one another either and like with Gwen your current identity has never had anything to do with her. Neither of them are even customers so you can't just wait for one of them to swing by and buy something. They're both non-starters as far as you're concerned which really only leaves one option.<br/>
<br/>
Well two actually. "Hey, how long is that whatever you're making gonna be?" you call out to the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe another five minutes?" Melody calls back. "I thought you didn't like this."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm hungry enough that I can choke it down," you reply. "Love ya, wifey."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh."<br/>
<br/>
Despite how high strung Melody can be Lina actually gets along with her pretty well. She can't get her to smoke but Lina can get her to at least laugh and open up a bit and she has to admit that Melody can be a pretty good cook, especially when making real food and not this tofu crap. But that's probably about what was left in the kitchen to make and Melody hasn't had a chance to do the shopping yet. Still, while she is an option you still don't think Sydney would like being her all that much.<br/>
<br/>
So you take out your phone and shoot a text off to K.C.<br/>
<br/>
<i>think u can get charlotte over to ur place tmrw?</i><br/>
<br/>
It takes a few minutes but you get a response back: <i>sure</i><br/>
<br/>
So you send a text to Umeko relaying to her that K.C. is going to try and get Charlotte out to the house tomorrow. She tells you that Umeko doesn't really have much of anything going on so she'll stay in the mask and grab her then. All in all, you crow to yourself, things continue to go pretty smoothly. Your mood is such that once Melody tells you she's done you don't even have to really force down the tofu.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't have to worry much from that point on. Mary Johnson swings by the apartment not long after you eat to buy a quad off of you and you manage to score a cool fifty bucks. She tells you that Allison might be coming by for the weekend as well.  A few more girls stop by too and by the end of the night you head to bed content that you've done reasonably well for yourself.<br/>
<br/>
The next morning you only have one class which you only half pay attention to as it's one that Lina herself doesn't find particularly interesting and then it's on to her part time job -- as a barista at Starbucks -- for a midday shift. It's not the most exciting thing and truth be told Lina's not the biggest fan of having to work, not when most of her income comes from her "side business". But she <i>does</i> like that both Connor Hutchinson and Justin Carr work there.<br/>
<br/>
She's a year older but like them she too attended Westside and would see them at school hanging around guys whose name she doesn't remember but who you recognize as being Carson Ioeger and James Lamont. But largely she knew them from going to the some of the same parties and occasionally she and her friends would hang out with them and some of their other friends. She remembers them as being smart (and smart-asses) with a mischievous streak. The kind of thing she finds fun.<br/>
<br/>
Truth be told she's always found the shaggy-haired Connor kind of cute so she enjoys the fact that now they get to be coworkers and pick up from where they left off though she's balked at trying to progress things even though she's pretty sure he'd take her out if she asked.<br/>
<br/>
So overall it's another nice and easy day as Lina by the time you get off of work. You feel like you could get used to it and as you pull up to K.C.'s place you're starting to think that maybe she'd make a nice full time identity. Especially when Sydney, not Umeko or Zoe but the real girl herself, greets you with a nice smooch once she answers the door. She informs you that Zoe let her in and is back in her room and that the two of them are waiting for K.C.: Zoe so they can practice and her because,  well...<br/>
<br/>
So you sit and chat for a few minutes and then you hear voices and the door opens. In walks K.C. but with her is another young woman; blonde and pretty with clear blue eyes, a large tattoo on her left arm and another on the inside of her right forearm.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh! K.C. you didn't tell me you had guests over," she says. Her voice is soft with a very noticeable English accent.<br/>
<br/>
"When don't I?" K.C. responds. "Anyway these are just some friends and such," she says she points out you and Sydney. "Guys, this is Charlotte. The chick that's spent the last few weeks pestering me about the festival."<br/>
<br/>
"Well I don't think I've been pestering exactly," Charlotte mutters defensively. "But I am glad you agreed to do it all the same. Pleasure to meet you all by the way."<br/>
<br/>
"Pleasure's all our's," you respond as Sydney, quick as a flash, jumps up and smashes the mask on Charlotte's face.<br/>
<br/>
You and K.C. head outside though don't say much of anything until the front door opens about twenty minutes later. Umeko's out first and greets you followed by an unsteady looking Charlotte. "Everything go off well?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, except for, you know, the issue I have compared to you," she answers and you have to do a double take. Sure the voice still sounds soft and silky smooth but...<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I noticed. The accent's totally gone," K.C. says for you.<br/>
<br/>
"Well duh," Charlotte responds. "I mean all that stuff is mental and if I don't have that then, you know, I'm not going to stand out here and do a bad one." With that she grabs K.C. by the arm. "Anyway I'll just hang out with her for a bit. Watch them practice. We'll drop Umeko off at her place too and by tomorrow everything will be fine right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah sure," you responds.<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Thanks for the help then, Will, but I'll see you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Not having any classes on a Thursday you're at work in the morning (Connor and Justin, to your disappointment, don't work mornings) when you feel your phone go off in your pocket. You have to wait until your break before you can actually check it however and it's a message from an unknown number. Though thankfully the sender gives away their identity right off the bat.<br/>
<br/>
<i>hey this is sydney. still in char's mask.<br/>
but we need to talk.<br/>
real important.<br/>
can you meet for lunch?</i><br/>
<br/>
You say that you can and after a brief back and forth you eventually decide on Besandwiched. Sydney's looking for something a little quieter and you know, well Lina knows, well enough that people tend to prefer going there in the evening on account of the more occult and mystical atmosphere of the cafe not really fitting well for afternoon meals. You then work the rest of your shift and once it ends bid goodbye to your coworkers and head off to where you're supposed to meet.<br/>
<br/>
You step into Besandwiched and find Charlotte sitting by herself at a table in the back corner. She looks jumpy and nervous like she's expecting someone to jump out at her from around a corner. You want to go over and yell "Boo!" to get at her but decide that's probably not a good idea. "What's up?" you ask as you take a seat. "You okay? You look spooked."<br/>
<br/>
"I do? Christ! Well I am so I can't help it," she says. She didn't have it yesterday since Sydney had none of her mind but now that you can hear it you like the way her accent combines with her soft voice. "Anyway, you know how it takes me like a night's sleep to get all the memories and whatnot right?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Well yeah, I've got Charlotte's and..." she stops to take a deep breath. "Look Will, I want you to listen to me and listen good, okay? MacGregor and the music festival? Charlotte? None of them are what we thought they were."</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111221111111233131
author_id: rugal
title: A Girl and Her Secrets
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>That catches you off guard. They're not who you thought they were? What's that supposed to mean? "What are you talking about?" you ask. "Who isn't?"<br/>
<br/>
"All of it, Will!" she exclaims. "Charlotte and... and Macgregor and... fuck! I can't believe this! It's just all so... so..." She pauses and buries her face in her hands. "My head is so fucked right now; I can't think straight. I can barely even see straight."<br/>
<br/>
She looks up at you again and her eyes look like they're starting to water. "Sydney, hey! Come on now!" you say as you grab her hands. But that doesn't seem to calm her down any. "Did you order anything?" you ask and she weakly shakes her head. "Alright then, let's get out of here. Whatever it is you want to talk about this isn't the best place."<br/>
<br/>
"Then where?" she asks. "I don't... I don't want to go back to Charlotte's place right now."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll go back to my place, to Lina's I mean. Her roommate's going to be in class and then at her job so we'll have the place to ourselves for a while. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Yeah, alright."<br/>
<br/>
You apologize to the guy working the counter telling him that you decided not to stay after all and, helping Charlotte up, lead her out of the cafe and to your car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back at the apartment you make sure to lock the door so nobody can bust in and if Melody does, for whatever reason, come home early you'll be able to hear her unlock the door and have time to shut up. Charlotte sits down on the couch and you offer her some water but she asks if you have anything that'll give her a buzz. You do have some cans of beer in the fridge so you pull one out and give it to her.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright then," you say after sitting down next to her. "So let's start over. What was all of that you were talking about before? About how Charlotte and all of that aren't what we thought?"<br/>
<br/>
"Does Lina know her? Charlotte I mean?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Not really. I think she's bought from Lina a few times but nothing significant."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, okay then," she starts. "So anyone who knows Charlotte Dahl knows that she's an exchange student from England. Liverpool actually, Beatles and all that. Probably why she's always liked music I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that why she's involved with Macgregor and why she's keen on K.C. and her band?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe a bit, I dunno. She can play some too and is apparently pretty good at writing. But fuck, none of that's important," she answers as she takes a sip of the beer you handed her. "Anyway what I said? That much is true and yeah she really is interning for Macgregor. But that's not really why she's here."<br/>
<br/>
You cock an eyebrow. "What do you mean? She flies from Europe to here to enroll in Keyserling and that's not why she's actually here? That doesn't make sense."<br/>
<br/>
"Let me ask you this then: does the name Fane mean anything to you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't say that it does," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"It shouldn't, not normally anyway. It's a big transatlantic corporation that's got branches here in the States and back in Britain. They own Macgregor. Have their fingers in a lot of pies actually." She takes a deep breath and pauses, trying to gather herself. "Will, I want you to promise me something because I'm about to drop some shit on you that's going to sound like the most whacked out conspiracy theory garbage you've ever heard. But it's real. I want you to believe me. Promise me that."<br/>
<br/>
You can tell that she's being one hundred percent serious and given everything else up to this point what's a little conspiracy nonsense? So you give her your assurance that you'll take what she says seriously.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks, okay," she starts. "So Charlotte plays music, writes music. People around Liverpool like it. She plays a show at some small festival. Some shit happens and she's brought into Fane. Only it's like some mega top secret part of the company called Hermod. After the Norse god I think. Anyway this Hermod they're researching... well, a lot of things really. Things related to persuasion, control. One of them is using music to sway peoples' emotions, influences their thoughts."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what musical mind control? Like what you were joking about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Charlotte nods, "only they're not joking. They feel like Charlotte's a great candidate for this and they like what she writes for them but when she's playing them it's just not there. But there's other groups like Hermod in Fane and one of them has someone right here in town. That person, whoever it is Charlotte has no clue, passes along that there's some promising bands in town. So Charlotte's enrolled in Keyserling, sent across the Atlantic and given a bullshit internship with the Fane-owned Macgregor Media."<br/>
<br/>
"Meaning...?"<br/>
<br/>
"Meaning Charlotte's not here for an education. She's here to scout; find promising talent for Hermod and try and bring them up. Subtly at first before slowly getting them in deeper and revealing the whole thing. And in Slow Fast Hazel? In someone as insanely charismatic as K.C.? She thinks she's hit the jackpot." She looks at you, deathly serious. "This music festival is a load of bullshit, Will. It's basically a disguised audition for K.C. and her band so some other Hermod guys can evaluate them and if they can snag another band or two then even better."<br/>
<br/>
You're blown away and can do nothing more than just kind of sit still and stare at, or really past, your girlfriend blankly. So this girl whose face she's wearing is, what, some kind of mind control advocate-slash-spy for some shadowy British organization? It does sound like insane conspiracy theory nonsense but again you think of the book and where you are now and it's hard to dismiss it out of hand.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not even the worst part," she continues. "Because Fane also owns Parsons Collegiate Media, the company my dad and Nicholas worked for. That Nicholas still works for. It's a name that basically burned itself into my memories from when I was in that bastard's head. I don't now if he did something to piss them off, was going rogue, they thought someone like Nicholas would be easier to manipulate and control or what. But they promised him  nice promotion if he 'got rid of' my dad."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes go wide with shock. "Got rid of...? What are you saying?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you very sternly; as serious as you've ever seen her. She holds your gaze. The words are cold in their delivery and hearing them causes your blood to run cold.<br/>
<br/>
"Fane killed my father, Will."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend another couple of hours with Sydney trying to hash out what all of this means. Coming up with ideas and debating what all of it means. She definitely wants to do <i>something</i> about Fane. Look into them more, look into this Hermod group more. See what can be found and what can be done to them. With Charlotte you have yourselves an in but you don't know where to go from there. For a start there's another Fane agent lurking about in town and neither of you knows who it is. And the fact is you're not sure if they'd even be the only one. Because if there's two there might possibly be more.<br/>
<br/>
Where would you find them? You don't have the faintest clue.<br/>
<br/>
But even though she wants to do something regarding Fane, Sydney is also still serious about Baphomet and the coven you're building. Charlotte knows plenty about the research that was done by Hermod in using music to control minds since she was right at the center of a lot of it. The two of you wonder then if you can't do anything about Fane and Hermod right now, why not get back at them by appropriating their own research to benefit your own project?<br/>
<br/>
But even that seems a little bit absurd and the two of you also wonder if it's not best to just cruise along for right now, finish setting up your coven and doing your research on Baphomet and all this other stuff and then figure out what your next steps should be? If nothing else should you decide to do anything it'd probably be a good idea to have an entire coven at your beck and call, identities you can slip back into if anything happened, than going in half-cocked.<br/>
<br/>
By the time the late afternoon rolls around you haven't made any kind of decision but Sydney is feeling better and decides that she's fine enough to go back to Charlotte's for the night. The two of you bid goodbye for the day and there's no kissing, no playful banter or sexy shenanigans. Just promises to discuss it more later and a tender parting hug.<br/>
<br/>
You feel mentally drained and collapse onto the sofa deciding to just lay down and take a nap. By the time you wake up it's already evening and you hear Melody in the kitchen. You decide to get up and see what she's up to.<br/>
<br/>
"You go shopping?" you ask when you spot some bags on counter.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, with no help from you," she replies sarcastically. "Guess you decided to wake up. Something happen?"<br/>
<br/>
You grunt. "Nothing you really need to worry about," you tell her. "Today's just been kind of an exhausting day. I have a lot to think about."</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Little Program Music
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"—one of the school programs," you finish after a moment's stumbling hesitation. "You know, the orchestra or—"<br/>
<br/>
Sydney giggles. "Why are you in such a hurry, Will?" She tweaks you in the side of the stomach. "We've got all the time in the world. We can afford to take it slow."<br/>
<br/>
But you can't take it slow. You have to find yourself an alias before Monday.<br/>
<br/>
"We can take it slow," you protest. "I'm just trying to pick out an area, you know. Or else we're never gonna get started."<br/>
<br/>
Sydney laughs. "It is kind of like being in a cafeteria, isn't it? But if we're going to be, like, an all-orchestra coven, once we pick the orchestra or whoever, then we've basically picked all our members."<br/>
<br/>
She's right, and almost you backpedal. But before you can change your mind, Sydney says, "Orchestra, marching band, or chorale?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's basically who we have to pick from. The orchestra, the marching band, or the chorale. Of course," she adds, "there's some smaller groups in there. The jazz chorale and the jazz band, for instance. The chamber orchestra. But they're all or mostly part of the bigger groups. So which one? Orchestra, chorale, or marching band?"<br/>
<br/>
Now you do feel stampeded.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111222
author_id: seuzz
title: A Team Play
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sydney wants to take things slow, but there's no time to waste as far as you're concerned. The sooner you're out of your shit life and into someone else's, the happier you'll be.<br/>
<br/>
"You mentioned the sports teams," you said. "How about we just go with one of them?"<br/>
<br/>
Sydney gives you a wry smile. "Okay. Which squad?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um ...?" <br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself blushing as Sydney smirks at you. "I'll make it easy for you," she says. "You mentioned the cheerleader squad earlier."<br/>
<br/>
"No!" Your blush deepens. "If I wanted the cheerleader squad I'd have said so!"<br/>
<br/>
She laughs. "So where do you want to go?"<br/>
<br/>
But there are too many possibilities for you to come to grips with.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, let's narrow it down," she says. "We probably can't take over a whole team. I mean, I guess we could, but we only need nine slots to fill. So we can either take over most of a team, or we can spread out over a bunch of them."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, like, three girls on the basketball squad and three on the soccer team and three on—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Or there's some co-ed teams. The swim team, for instance. We could totally replace all the girl swimmers, or the girl tennis players."</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112221
author_id: seuzz
title: Nine Girls Out
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Let's get them all out of one place," you suggest. "Turn the whole team into, um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Our coven of covens?" Sydney's grin turns mischievous. "I really like the way you're thinking, Will. Okay, so—" She takes out her phone and runs her thumb over the screen. "The basketball squad, the softball squad, or the volleyball squad? Oh, or the soccer squad?"<br/>
<br/>
Then, as you're mulling those possibilities, she adds, with a note of surprise in her voice, "Did you know we have a girls' lacrosse team at Westside?"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111122213
author_id: rugal
title: The Other Teams
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"A lacrosse team? Really? you ask in surprise. "I barely even knew we had a guys' lacrosse team much less a girls' one."<br/>
<br/>
Sydney giggles at that. "They fly under the radar don't they?" she replies. "But I share some classes with a few and I'll see them around lunch. I think Maggie's friends with some of them too. I could probably get us one if that's the direction you wanted to move."<br/>
<br/>
"Are they hot?" you find yourself blurting out. Quickly you groan and bury your head in your hands. "Just forget I asked that," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
But you look up to see Sydney grinning at you like the Cheshire Cat. "Is <i>that</i> what you're so concerned about? How attractive the girls are?" she teases. "Am I not hot enough for you, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said forget it!" you exclaim while Sydney goes into full blown laughter. "Okay, so what if I'm concerned about their looks? If we're going to be them then wouldn't we want to be attractive?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will, it's fine," Sydney says once she stops laughing, "and you know what? I agree with you. I mean if we <i>really</i> wanted to fly under the radar then we could be, like, Lotte Linde and Abby Derr and those girls but I don't think you want that do you?"<br/>
<br/>
You're silent for a moment and then sigh. You'd say that Sydney can read you well but that question you'd thrown out gave the game away. "Yeah, and part of this is improving our position right?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Improving <i>your</i> position," she corrects you. "I'm doing pretty well for myself if I may be so humble. You're the one who probably needs the bump more than me." She leans over, grabs your arm and strokes it. "That said I do kind of like the lacrosse team as a base. Your position would be improved but we'd still be able to fly under the radar. That means we can do our thing with less chance of catching attention that we might not want."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt at that. "Maybe, but I'd still like to know more about them," you say. "Do you have any?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah I can find something." Sydney takes her phone and you see her tap, swipe and type and eventually she seems to find something. She then takes her phone and hands it to you. It's from the school's site and looks like a promotional photo of the team. "I've got eighth with her," she says as she points out one girl, "third with her, sixth with that girl right there and I've hung out with her  through Maggie."<br/>
<br/>
They're nice enough looking girls for the most part and you feel like you might have seen one or two of them in your classes. But they're nobody you can name and so you can only conclude that none of them leave much of an impression. "What about the soccer team?" you ask. "I think I have a few of them in my classes but I don't really know much about them."<br/>
<br/>
"I've got a few of those girls in my classes too," she replies. "I've heard some things too. Apparently the team is split into two camps between Anita Nuevo and Hannah Westrick. Hannah wants the captain spot and Hannah pisses off Anita but right now it's kind of a cold war between them. I don't know who all falls where though, that's really about all I know."<br/>
<br/>
"So if we went with them then we'd have to deal with that," you mutter unenthusiastically.<br/>
<br/>
"Wouldn't that be fun though?" Sydney asks excitedly. "Like if one of us was Anita and the other was Hannah and publicly we're feuding but then we secretly get together to learn about Baphomet and research magic and the book? Or we can just take the other girls and subvert both of them. I think there's a JV team we could work into things too."<br/>
<br/>
"Would that really work?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't see why not," says Sydney. "I mean as long as we're controlling everything then how many issues could there be? But we could always split the difference too. We take half the membership from the lacrosse team, half from the soccer team."<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be, what, five each? We need ten members right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sure," she answers. "Anyway I could take the soccer girls and you take lacrosse or I'll take the lacrosse team and you have the soccer team. Or we could just pick and choose from each team. If you wanted to split things between the two of course."</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111222131
author_id: rugal
title: Those Who Fly Under the Radar
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Let's just keep it simple," you tell Sydney. "Trying to split time and focus between multiple teams might be a giant headache. Same with trying to wrangle two sides of a soccer civil war."<br/>
<br/>
"So you want to go with the lacrosse team?" she asks in response.<br/>
<br/>
"Well is there any trouble we need to be aware of from them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm, no," Sydney responds. "I've never heard of any big problems coming from them. I'm sure they have their arguments and stuff but," she shrugs, "nothing world ending I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Then that sounds like a reasonable enough place to set up shop," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"Great!" she exclaims as she claps her hands together. "Then we should probably get started on it right away."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, what? How!?"<br/>
<br/>
Sydney certainly wants to waste no time in getting the ball rolling on getting the two of you set up in the girls' lacrosse team. The only thing is that you're not really sure how she intends to do that. It's Friday, school's out. Lots of people are going to have lots of plans and it doesn't seem as if she knew any of the team members all that well. All she kept doing was pointing and saying she knew so-and-so from this or that class or through her friend. Is that really going to be enough to get something set up on such short notice?<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, I just message people, duh," she says with a confident smile. She takes her phone and once more you see her tapping and typing away. Her face is serious but it does soften and brighten every so often until finally she seems satisfied. "There, done. I've got something set up."<br/>
<br/>
"Wow, already?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's Friday, Will. That means people are going to be looking for things to do," she explains as if it's all the most obvious thing in the world. "So all I had to do was message some of the girls I know to find out what was going on."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, is <i>that</i> all," you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "So who'd you get and where do we get 'em?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, see, that's the thing," she answers you. "I couldn't really get <i>one</i> person. Like I said, people are looking to do things and like half the starters on them team are getting together to hang out. They're doing it up at the Monte, actually. I managed to let them have us tag along."<br/>
<br/>
"So, what, that means we just have to grab one of them while we're there?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not going to be <i>that</i> easy, dear. The Monte's still a pretty public place after all," she said. "Plus it's not just going to be us and them."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, really? Who else is going to be there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. A couple of football players, guys like that probably?" she responds. "Probably some of them are looking to use it as a chance to try and snag a boyfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"And those jackasses are probably looking for a chance to get their dicks wet," you say glumly.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that about?" Sydney asks you with concern. "You've been acting moody and pissy ever since you picked me up. You even skipped your last few periods. Did something happen?"<br/>
<br/>
You really want to say no and not give her any reason to worry about you. Yet try as you might your mouth and lips and voice begin working ahead of your brain. "It's just... it's you," you say and immediately gasp. "No, I don't mean <i>you</i>," you insist apologetically, "I just mean that... some guys gave me shit today because I guess word's getting around that we're at least hanging out together and I guess some people don't like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" The question is as direct and sharp as you've ever heard. "Who was giving you guff, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"It was," but you stop yourself. If Sydney gets pissed and goes after them or says something then it'd reflect even worse on you. <i>Look at Will Prescott,</i> would come the jeers, <i>having to have his girlfriend fight his battles for him</i>. So you simply shake your head. "It's not really important who it was, I guess. I'm just saying that trying to have a relationship might be harder than we'd think. A lot of guys don't think we're on the same level. Like I don't deserve you."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft!" Sydney snorts. "Well, not all guys are going to be assholes like that I'm sure, don't worry. The girls that I know from the lacrosse team don't seem like the type of girls who'd hang around with dickheads. You'll be fine."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You make sure that you've got enough of this new paste as well as a few blank masks and then head off with Sydney to Monte Viso's, a mini golf course with a go-kart track and a popular weekend hangout for local students. Especially as a pre-game before going out to the Warehouse.<br/>
<br/>
You get there just as most of the others have as well. Sydney herself is quick to introduce you to Rachel Boone, a girl with incredibly long, thick and curly hair and the one that Sydney was texting with. "I share sixth period with her," Sydney tells you. Among the other girls are Joyce Mayr, Nicole Yeager, Julie Cole, Lisa Joz and Joanie Muetter. A few of them you can't help but to feel are familiar but can't quite place them.<br/>
<br/>
Soon after arrive a group of guys though not all at once. Most of them look like bigger guys and you suspect that you're athletes. When Julie says that they're going to break into groups you dread it and can only hope that you end up with Sydney and some of the oter girls. So it's of course your luck that Sydney ends up in a different group while you're stuck in a group of four with Joanie, a wild-haired soccer player named Cole Parker, and an intense looking football player named Liam Walker.<br/>
<br/>
For the first few holes you don't really say much and then it's finally Liam who says the first direct words to you. "You're the guy who came with Sydney?" he says in a manner that's direct but less gruff than you'd have thought.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah," you squeak out.<br/>
<br/>
He grunts. "Heard Blake and some of the other guys at practice talking about it. Roy was bragging about running off Sydney's boyfriend or something like that today." Liam looks at you and shakes his head. You wilt figuring he's shaking it at you and but to your surprise he claps you on the shoulder. "A lot of those guys are just pissy 'cause they couldn't get with anything."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not pissed that I'm, uh, Sydney's boyfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's whatever," Cole states. "The fuck should anyone hold it against you for getting with another girl if you and Sydney are an item?" He then flashes you a grin. "But if you aren't, well, the night's young and maybe I can..."<br/>
<br/>
But you don't really sense the same malice in Cole's words that you got from the guys back at the portable earlier. You decide that Sydney's right and not all of these guys are bad and though you won't say that Cole and Liam are suddenly your pals, you do loosen up a bit and find them refreshingly easy to get along with. You're able to share a couple of jokes or hear some anecdotes from them and they seem to give you no real problems over your relationship with Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
The only one who eventually presses the issue is, to your surprise, Joanie who's been largely quiet up through the first half of the round. It's when your hanging back with her while Liam and Cole are up farther ahead with their shots that she speaks.<br/>
<br/>
"So <i>are</i> you and Sydney going out?" she asks bluntly.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, well, I dunno," you confess. For some reason you can't bring yourself to say that you are. "We've been hanging out a lot, at least."<br/>
<br/>
Joanie -- a tall girl who wears her platinum blonde hair in a short bob -- studies you and then breaks into a smile so squinty her eyes practically disappear. "You know, I've seen you around in Walberg's class but I guess I never really noticed you before. You're not bad to look at so if you and Sydney aren't actually a thing then maybe <i>we</i> could go somewhere after mini golf."<br/>
<br/>
If you'd had anything to drink you'd have spit out out in surprise. Both in that you do share a class with one of the lacrosse girls and in that she just hit on you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's decided after your round of mini golf that if anyone wants to then you'll head over to Eastman as a first step to heading over to the Warehouse. Not wanting to spoil the fun -- and at Sydney's insistence that it's a place one of you can easily get a mask onto someone -- you decide to head over too. Most go in their own cars but Joanie, who had gotten a ride with Joyce and Rachel, says she'll go with you and Sydney.<br/>
<br/>
You're not so dense that you don't know why. After what she'd said at the hole, she'd tried more than once to continue flirting with you and you'd actually found yourself receptive to it in spite of yourself. But you <i>do</i> have a girlfriend and after the round of mini golf you'd pulled her aside and told her. But instead of being pissed, Sydney simply laughed and gave you a light smack on the cheek. She didn't seem irritated when Joanie invited herself to carpool with the two of you either.<br/>
<br/>
You've barely even started the truck when you see Sydney lean into the backseat and you hear a soft thud.<br/>
<br/>
"What--"<br/>
<br/>
"I had the mask so I figured why not?" Sydney cuts you off. "But what do you think, Casanova? You wanna be the girl who's spent half the evening flirting with you?" She then twists around to face the front and looks at you with a grin, You know, if you're worried about what assholes might think about the two of us dating then she'd probably be a good match for you instead... so long as I'm the one playing her."</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112222
author_id: seuzz
title: Co-Ed Covens
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Let's go with one of the, like, co-ed teams," you suggest. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't think there's enough girls on the tennis team," Sydney says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, then—"<br/>
<br/>
"But there's also the swim team. And the track team. Oh! Catherine would be <i>perfect</i> to recruit!"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11113113111111111111111112211111112223
author_id: seuzz
title: Three by Three
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I like the idea of mixing it up," you tell Sydney. "You know, three here, three there, three somewhere else."<br/>
<br/>
"The best of the bunch, in other words!" Sydney snuggles up next to you and takes out her cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
"The team captains would be the best ones to recruit first," she says as she scrolls the screen with her thumb. "Oh, Catherine! She's co-captain of the track squad <i>and</i> she practically knows everyone at school. I also know some of the girls on the volleyball and softball teams, we could start with one of them instead. Oh heck, we would start with any of them."<br/>
<br/>
<i>We could also start with the cheerleading squad,</i> you think to yourself. <i>We could start with Chelsea Cooper.</i><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 111131131111111111111111122111111122231
author_id: seuzz
title: The Invisible Boyfriend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Let's start with the cheerleading squad,</i> you almost tell Sydney, but chicken out at the last minute. It sounds like a cliche. And what would she, an ex-cheerleader, think if that’s what you suggested?<br/>
<br/>
So you tell her it's up to her.<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm." She eyes you narrowly. "Let's start with Catherine, then. It's Friday, she'll have a party going already that we can crash. And it seems like she knows everyone at school, we should recruit her anyway. She'd be for getting others."<br/>
<br/>
<i>If Catherine knows everyone,</i> you think as Sydney takes out her cell phone, <i>how come I don't know her?</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Catherine Muskov lives in the southeast side of town, not far from where your aunt and uncle live. It's an old, leafy neighborhood, with neatly kept houses of white clapboard squeezed onto small lots. Sydney parks in back of a nearby elementary school. There are lots of cars in the lot, so you ask if it’ll be okay to park there. She gives you a look, and says that those are all cars of the people who are out at Catherine's already. Together—you carrying the backpack with the two masks and other supplies—you trek a block and half over to a white, two-story house with gray, steeply-pitched roofs and a small tower at one corner. Even from the sidewalk you can hear the muffled talk and laughter within.<br/>
<br/>
As you step onto the wraparound porch, the front door opens, and three guys and a girl spill out. Grins break across their faces when they see you.<br/>
<br/>
Well, they grin at Sydney, and grunt "Hey" "Hi" at her. You they ignore. "Sydney," the meatiest of the guys groans at her.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Eli."<br/>
<br/>
"Makin' a Taco Bell run. You're coming."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just got here."<br/>
<br/>
"Bring you a chalupa."<br/>
<br/>
"No thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"Bring you two chalupas."<br/>
<br/>
"I said no."<br/>
<br/>
"You're coming with us, you can pick out your own."<br/>
<br/>
With a tight smile, Sydney pulls you through the four-person knot. "Just get enough for everyone," she says as she struggles past.<br/>
<br/>
"I got everything you want."<br/>
<br/>
Sydney doesn't reply, and just hauls you in through the front door. As you glance behind, you see that "Eli" is boldly eyeing your girlfriend's ass. Your face starts to burn.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God," Sydney mutters after pushing the door shut. "I can't believe it." She steps over to peer out a window onto the porch.<br/>
<br/>
"I know. Asshole."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a quick look. "I don't think we're talking about the same thing. But come on, I wanna find— Do you know who that girl was?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't either. That's why I wanna find—"<br/>
<br/>
But someone shouts her name from a nearby doorway, and with a blinding smile she turns to go over to say "Hi."<br/>
<br/>
And from that point on, you're more or less on your own, even when you're standing at her elbow listening.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
If this is a party, you decide after forty or fifty minutes, it's the most low-key party you've ever been to. There's no music, no dancing, no obvious making out, hardly any drinking (not even of sodas), and in one room—a bookshelf-lined den that looks out onto the back yard—there's even a pile of kids in the floor doing their homework.<br/>
<br/>
But the house is crowded enough for a party, and there is food piling up in the kitchen. When you get tired of trailing Sydney around, listening to her gossip about people you barely know and care about even less, the kitchen is where you end up, perched on a countertop and munching tortilla chips.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you're perched there until Stephanie Wyatt comes in. She does a double-take at you, and her mouth screws up into a ferocious frown. "Jesus, Will," she snarls. "Get off there. You're scuffing the cabinets."<br/>
<br/>
You stare back, then slip back down to the floor. Stephanie is a bossy jock of a girl—she's on the girls' basketball squad—and she could probably beat you up. Which is too bad for a lot of reasons. She's got great legs, great boobs, a fantastic ass, and is semi-pretty as well, even though she wears her curly, chestnut-colored hair in a short bob. If she didn't terrify you so much, you'd probably add her to your library of jerk-off fantasies. She's probably a beast in bed. Maybe too much of one. It doesn't take much to imagine her topping her sexual climax by biting off the head of her mate.<br/>
<br/>
Still, male pride forbids that you retreat from the kitchen, so you sulk in a corner by the sink and watch with hooded resentment as she pours herself some ginger ale. She does it one-handedly while frowning angrily at her cell phone. "Tsshhhhh!" she hisses, and gives you a quick, angry look. "You seen Raymond around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Raymond?" you echo.<br/>
<br/>
"Koepp."<br/>
<br/>
You have to dredge deep to place the name. When you do summon up an image—a dumpy kid with messy blonde hair; not fat, exactly; just a guy who doesn't miss many meals and who doesn't fidget enough to keep the weight off—you're relieved to find that you can give Stephanie more than a shrug in reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I saw him and some other guys earlier. They were leaving right about the time we got here."<br/>
<br/>
"We?" Stephanie's forehead furrows.<br/>
<br/>
"Me and Sydney."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie stares, then dismisses your reply with a shake of her head. "Where did they go?"<br/>
<br/>
"They said they were making a Taco Bell run."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie blinks, then makes a face and slaps at a Taco Bell bag resting on the kitchen island.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah and they're back already," she snaps. "Have you seen him since then? Wait, did a girl go with him when he left?"<br/>
<br/>
"To Taco Bell?" You grimace as Stephanie nods impatiently. "Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Was it Ashley Scott?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know." You feel like you're being interrogated by a cop. "I don't know who Ashley Scott is."<br/>
<br/>
Stephanie rolls her eyes. "Why don't you try paying some fucking attention some time, Prescott?" she mutters, and stalks from the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
You're semi-impressed that she even remembers your name.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Ugly as that little scene was, there's a sequel that's even worse.<br/>
<br/>
You've reconnected with Sydney, and are upstairs in a little sitting room, leaning against each other, arms loosely wrapped about each other's waists as Catherine Muskov—the hostess, the girl you and Sydney are targeting for replacement—relaxes in a window seat and twinkles at you.<br/>
<br/>
Catherine may not know you, but you definitely know who she is. She's a buxom brunette with hair that falls in soft curls to her shoulders; grave eyes; a small, turned-up nose; and legs, hips and breasts that you'd love to curl up with like a body pillow. She's on the track team, but she's not skinny or sinewy, only toned, and she's showing it off now in a pair of tight jeans and a halter top that's short enough for her bellybutton to wink at you as she alternately straightens up and sags. Her boyfriend has just gone downstairs. But some of his friends, including that Eli guy, are clustered around you.<br/>
<br/>
"He's so adorable, Sydney," Catherine says as she eyes you. "He's like a puppy. Did he follow you home?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's more like I followed <i>him</i> home," Sydney says, and pulls herself closer to you. That's bad enough, but you can't miss it when Eli leans over to one of his friends and with a grin mutters something about "whapping him on the nose with a newspaper." They snort and snicker.<br/>
<br/>
"We should all go out sometime," Catherine says. "You, me, Michael, your boyfriend. You play frisbee-golf?" she asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... sometimes," you lie.<br/>
<br/>
"We should go play frisbee-golf this weekend, if it doesn't rain." Catherine leans back in her window-seat and stretches out her legs. "You play any sports, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"If other guys are playing." That lie is even more brazen. Though you can crudely handle a basketball, it's been years since you've played an organized game of anything.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll see if Michael can set up some kind of game. Sydney and the rest of us girls can watch." She hops onto her feet. "Speaking of, I need to go find him before he and Noah get into any trouble." She slides past you and slinks out the door.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney turns to follow, but when you try to tag along, she whips around to nip at your ear, then nips at it again. "Stay here," she hisses, then hops along in Catherine's wake.<br/>
<br/>
You freeze, then start when you hear a strangled guffaw from behind. It's Eli and his husky friends, staring at you with huge grins on their faces.<br/>
<br/>
They don't even have to say anything, and neither do you. They just crack up and fall against each other, laughing, as they watch a full-body blush wash over you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Relief finally comes—at just about the time you're ready to tell Sydney, "Fuck it, I'm going over the back wall, I'll see you at school on Monday"—at around seven o'clock. You're brooding in Catherine's back yard when your phone dings with a text: <i>Come upstairs.</i> You flinch, but comply.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney's in the hallway, chatting with three other girls, but she grabs you around the hip and pulls you aside for a whispered face-to-face conference. As she breathes up at you, you almost don't hear what she says. "Catherine's passed out in the bathroom."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got the thing on her. I left her in the bathroom." She glances back down the hall at her friends. "I'll get rid of them, then you can sneak in, make the switch. Just make sure you lock the door behind you."<br/>
<br/>
You can only stare back at her.<br/>
<br/>
"Or were you figuring on me being Catherine?" she asks.</span></div></div>


path: 1111311311111111111111111221111111222312
author_id: seuzz
title: A Girlfriend With Two Faces
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You should do it," you tell Sydney. "You know her better than me."<br/>
<br/>
You half expect her to argue, or at least to give you a look, but she only makes a quick nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, do you think you can—?" She glances back down the hallway as her three friends start moving off toward the head of the stairs. "Never mind." She pushes you against the wall. "I'm going in."<br/>
<br/>
Then, to your astonished delight, she shoves her mouth against yours, tears a quick kiss off you, then scampers into the bathroom. A second later, she's inside, and there's the click of a lock turning.<br/>
<br/>
You gulp, and totter back down the hall to that sitting room, where you sink onto one of the window seats to stare down into the back yard, where in the lowering dusk you can just make out the forms of other high school kids.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're still in the sitting room, talking to a girl—well, deflecting her, really—when your phone chimes with a text. "Yeah, we're gonna start at Legends," the girl is telling you, "then work our way over to a couple of more clubs, wait to hit the Warehouse until late when everything else is closed up." She scrunches up her nose at the guy who's rubbing her back. "Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," he replies as you pull out your phone. The text is from Sydney. <i>Im downstars where r u?</i><br/>
<br/>
You frown. Has she made the change already? Has it been that long? Time wasn't flying; you weren't having that much fun talking to—<br/>
<br/>
"Sydney's looking for me," you tell the girl and her boyfriend as you stand up. "I guess she's done with ... whatever." Sydney being busy with something was your excuse when the girl asked where your "girlfriend" was.<br/>
<br/>
"Does she know what we're doing tomorrow? You tell her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell her," you assure her, and squeeze past.<br/>
<br/>
You really should have been paying attention when the girl introduced herself. She did introduce herself, didn't she? <i> Why don't you try paying some fucking attention some time, Prescott?</i> All you know is that she's on the track team with Catherine, which figures, as she's a skinny, bony thing.<br/>
<br/>
Sydney—or a girl who looks just like her—is in the kitchen when you catch up to her. She's grimacing at her phone, and your cell goes off again with a text just as she looks up to do a double take at you. A smile of relief breaks out across her face as you draw up. "Hey, I couldn't find you," she says, and slides a hand up your back.<br/>
<br/>
"Everything okay upstairs?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess so." She strokes you. "I was told to come find you, hang out with you, do stuff with you." She brushes up against you. "And no one said anything about us having to stay, you know."<br/>
<br/>
You suppress a gulp. <i>This isn't Sydney,</i> you realize with something like panic. <i>This is her double!</i><br/>
<br/>
"I think we better stay," you stammer, though by now you'd like nothing better than to crash your way out. Someone shoves you up against Sydney's doppelganger as they push past to get at the sink. Your heart squeezes up inside your throat. "You know in case we're needed," you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that makes sense," Fake-Sydney says. "But it's not like we have to hang out in the big middle of— Hey!" She turns to smile at a girl who's interrupted her, and who has a question about some camping trip that someone has been planning.<br/>
<br/>
And then two more girls drift over to add their two cents.<br/>
<br/>
And then <i>you</i> get pulled away by one of Sydney's friends—Reagan Somebody-or-Other.<br/>
<br/>
"So how are you liking the party?" she asks after tugging you into a corner of the dining room, where a plastic tray of meats and cheeses has appeared. It is more like a party now, you decide, as Reagan helps herself to a slice of something orange, for music is now playing in another room.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess it's fun."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't go out much, do you?" The light in her eye is bold and more than a little satirical. It goes with her nose, which is also bold, like an anteater's.<br/>
<br/>
"Not a lot," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I could tell. Well, get used to it with Sydney. She likes to have lots of people around. Are you at least friends with anyone here?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, come with me, then." She grabs a slice of salami with one hand and the front of your shirt with another. "You probably don't wanna hang out with Devin and them. Oh, this way." She pulls you into the living room, where that dumpy Raymond kid is slumped on the arm the sofa, chomping ice from a plastic cup. Two other guys are leaning on the furniture near him, but the girl you saw him with earlier has disappeared. Maybe that's why he is looking a lot less happy than when you saw him on the porch earlier.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey guys, this is Will," Reagan honks at the trio. "Will, this is Raymond, Luke, and Jack. Will is Sydney's new boyfriend." There's a leer in her voice as she says it, and she gives you a rude push in the shoulder by way of launching herself back the way she came.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, cool," says Jack. He's Chinese-American or something, and dressed up nice in slacks and a long-sleeve shirt. "So you're the one who finally scored with Sydney."<br/>
<br/>
Luke—a tall, milk-faced kid with sloppy locks of crimson hair and a fringe of sideburns—guffaws. "Did you?" he asks with a wide grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Did I what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Score." His grin widens.<br/>
<br/>
"Jeez, man," Jack snorts. But he turns an eye, bright with curiosity on you.<br/>
<br/>
"We— We hooked up," you stammer. "Just started going out, I mean." You feel your ears turning as red as Luke's hair. "We just, um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Been out to the Warehouse yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"With Sydney?" you ask. Luke laughs, rudely. "Well, we're talking about hitting a bunch of spots tomorrow. Yeah, Legends, then maybe out to the Warehouse after, you know, everyplace else has—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I heard Lily and them talking about doing something like that." Luke stretches around to pluck a can of cider off an end table.<br/>
<br/>
"Club hopping?" Jack says. "I'm up for that."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, who with?" Luke asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you."<br/>
<br/>
"No, not me, man."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>fuck</i> you."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's your girlfriend now?" Raymond asks you. He's got an ugly look on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, hey, speaking of which, where's <i>Ashley</i> now?" Jack drawls. He pokes Raymond in the shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck <i>you.</i>" Raymond slumps even lower in his seat.<br/>
<br/>
Just then, that wrestler dude—Eli—and some of his meaty friends come barging up, and you sidle away in the confusion.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Time passes. Too much time, in your judgment, since Sydney ducked into that bathroom. You return upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
There's a small knot of girls in front of the bathroom door, so you hang back. As you watch, one of them knocks gently at the door. "Hey in there," she says. "We've got a line."<br/>
<br/>
You hold your breath as a muffled voice replies from within. You can't make out the words.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, how long are you going to be?" the girl asks. Another muffled reply. "It's also occupied." Another reply. The girls all roll their eyes and sigh and mutter at each other. But one of them takes the lead, and in a knot they all at come at you. You have to press yourself against the wall as they pass.<br/>
<br/>
Then you approach the door. You hesitate, then rap at it. <br/>
<br/>
"Occupied," a voice tight with stress replies through it.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, Catherine?" you say. "This is Will. Prescott? Sydney's boyfriend?" No reply. "Is that you, uh, Cather—?"<br/>
<br/>
The door jerks open and Catherine Muskov, a startled expression on her face, stares back at you.<br/>
<br/>
Then she puts her head out long enough to look both ways down the hallway before hauling you by the shirt front into the bathroom with you. She slams the door shut.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God, Will!" She throws her arms around you, pulling you close. <br/>
<br/>
Every cell in your body instantly springs into a phallus-shaped erection. "Sydney?" you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," she says. "And that's the problem. I can't seem to get the mask to work."<br/>
<br/>
<i>The fuck does she mean?</i> But it would be awkward to argue, even though you're being squeezed inside the arms of a girl who sure <i>looks</i> like Catherine Muskov. "How is it not working?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't get the memories," she says. "Aren't these things supposed to copy memories?"<br/>
<br/>
"Supposed to," you agree.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I can't remember anything Catherine is supposed to! All I can remember is— Jeez, Will!" She grips you tighter, and it's like you can feel the fear bursting out from her. "There's a whole house of her friends out there! I can't fool <i>them!</i> Not without—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, hang on, just calm down." You give her a squeeze you hope is comforting. "When you say you haven't got the memories, uh—" You chew your lip, trying to come up with some diagnostic test or other. "Um, when you got the mask off her, did it have Catherine's name inside it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. I noticed that for sure," she adds, "because I was thinking, wow, I'm going to <i>be</i> her in a minute."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that probably means the mask is working."<br/>
<br/>
"But—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, wait a minute!" A thought has come to you. "Remember when you put on Caleb's mask, back in the old school basement? You couldn't get his memories either."<br/>
<br/>
She sucks in a breath. "That's right. Oh God, Will! What if the masks don't work on me? What if they only work for—" She swallows. "For you?"</span></div></div>


