# chapters

path: 112211111112122211113
author_id: seuzz
title: In Which "Freaky Friday" Gets Another Remake
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Kelly Cooper endlessly promotes and supports Chelsea's cheerleading career, but it wouldn't be wrong to say that she competes with her daughter, too. So the more you think about it, the more you like the idea of switching the two of them, like in a classic body-swap situation.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, you like it so much that Rob—who is snuggled up close as you together watch a dour, rain-soaked British police procedural about a serial killer—asks why you're giggling. "Oh, just something I was thinking about," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not paying attention to the show?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm paying attention. I just ... had a stray thought is all." Again you titter.<br/>
<br/>
Among the stray thoughts giving you a laughing fit is the anticipation of the expression on your replacement's face when you tell him he'll need to polish two new blank masks for you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next few days pass very quickly. On Sunday you leave the family at home while pretending to go to church alone; instead, you dash over to Blackwell's villa long enough to cast two new masks, and downtown to surreptitiously meet Will Prescott at a coffee shop long enough to give him the masks and an order to spend every free moment he can on polishing them up. He cusses long and hard under his breath at that.<br/>
<br/>
Monday afternoon Blackwell summons you out to his villa. He is startled by your appearance and asks (in an incredulous tone) if you really mean to impersonate a mother and a housewife while trying to continue your magical education. You assure him that it's just temporary—"I accidentally made this mask and I wanted to have some fun with it," you explain—and he reluctantly agrees to let you continue as Mrs. Cooper for a few more days until you finish making a new mask for a different, permanent impersonation.<br/>
<br/>
That evening, at the grocery store, an exhausted-looking Will passes a polished mask along to you; and that night, in its deepest and deadest depths, you rise from Kelly Cooper's marital bed, fetch the mask from the hallway closet where you'd secreted it, and creep on bare feet into Chelsea's bedroom. Her breathing is very soft as you drop the mask onto her face; after a brief, firefly-like glow, it vanishes into her. When it reappears, you carefully lift it, tuck it into your nightgown, and creep back out to place back in the closet behind the spare blankets and quilts.<br/>
<br/>
Tuesday night you meet with Will again, this time in the dark corner of a strip center parking lot. You pull his face off, revealing Mrs. Cooper long enough for you to copy her form into the new mask that your doppelganger brought you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Wednesday afternoon.</i> Chelsea is waiting for you in front of the high school, and she doesn't look terribly happy. Instead of getting into the car, she leans in through the passenger-side window with small pout pursing her lips. "Gordon and me were talking about hanging out," she says in a hopeful tone. "Is that okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you really want, sweetheart," you chirp back. "But I wanted to pick you up because I was planning to take you over to Larsen's to look at that outfit you were telling me about." <br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's eyes blaze with sudden cupidity, and she hesitates. After glancing back over her shoulder at the school, she leans farther into the car. "I'd really like for you to see it," she says. She told you about it Friday afternoon, when she got back from her shopping trip, but she had been a good girl and not bought it.<br/>
<br/>
You smile. "Well, how about you tell Gordon to meet us there. Then you can show it to me and him both. After that, you and him can go off and hang out if you like." Chelsea's expression explodes with delight. "But first, honey, was Yumi here today? Is she still around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh yeah. I think she's still here."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you call her or text her and ask her to meet me in the gym? There's something I want to look at in there."<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea frowns in a puzzled way, but takes out her cell phone; you pull into an empty parking space as she makes the call. The meeting is set up by the time you get out, and you ask Chelsea to wait for you in the car as you "won't be a minute."<br/>
<br/>
Inside the gym, you note Will Prescott perched alone at the top of some bleachers, with his chin cupped in both hands and his elbows resting on his knees. He sags and tilts to one side, like he's about to topple over, and even at this great distance you can tell that he's got great, black bags under his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You only spare him a quick salute before ducking into the girls' changing room to check that the coast is clear. You step back out onto the court—which is filled up with girls in basketball uniforms—in time to meet Yumi.<br/>
<br/>
She is looking just a little pale and uncertain—a lingering aftereffect of missing a whole week without anyone noticing, surely—but healthy. "I just wanted to look over the scene of the accident," you say after greeting her with a cheery smile and an excited chirp, "and since you were there I figured you could help me reconstruct what happened exactly."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Yumi says, and a little more color drains from her face. She clearly has no idea what you're talking about, but has been too well brought up to argue with an adult.<br/>
<br/>
"Now, let's see," you muse as you lead her back into the girls' changing room. "I was standing here, and you were standing there." She holds her tongue as you point to a far corner. "I was asking you about Cindy, and I remember you were standing with your back to the doorway because that's where—"<br/>
<br/>
Prescott silently appears behind her and reaches around to press a mask to Yumi's face, where it vanishes. The two of you catch her as she sinks toward the floor, and lift and carry her inside to the showers where you will not be seen.  You remove her clothes while Will remove his. When the mask reappears on Yumi's face—it is the mask you made of her last week, and you've now charged it with her most recent memories—you tuck it and her clothes inside your capacious purse.<br/>
<br/>
There follows a quick set of transfers. You pry the Will Prescott mask off its wearer, revealing Mrs. Cooper, and place it onto Yumi's face; your old, scarecrow-like form appears where she was lying, and with a tired sigh he scrambles up to pull on the floppy, quick-change clothes he's lately gotten used to wearing. As he's doing that, you lay another mask—the one that copied Chelsea's face and body—onto Mrs. Cooper, and Chelsea appears. You and Will then run from the changing room, pausing only long enough to drop some of Chelsea's clothes—which you lifted from her closet just before coming out to the school—next to the transformed Kelly Cooper. She will need them, for now she has her daughter's body even as you are still wearing hers.<br/>
<br/>
The only things she's missing are Chelsea's memories, and Chelsea won't be getting her mother's memories either, for you've only copied their bodies, not their minds. You figure it will be a lot more fun—for you—if they have to grope their way blindly through the body swap.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The switch at the mall goes even more smoothly. Chelsea wants to wait for Gordon to show up, but you insist that she go ahead and change. A fraction of a minute after she vanishes into the dressing room, you follow and drop your things in a neighboring stall. You wait until it sounds like Chelsea has finished disrobing before knocking on her door. <br/>
<br/>
"Sweetheart," you call to her through the door, "I found an extra piece I think fell off." You're ready with the mask when the door unlocks, and rudely shove your way in to press it into her face before she can do so much as gasp. She slumps to the floor and changes into a copy of her mother. This time you strip off your own clothes, then hurry with Chelsea's own things back into your stall while leaving Mrs. Cooper's clothes, keys and purse for the new Mrs. Cooper's use.<br/>
<br/>
Once safely back in your own stall, you pull off the mask of Mrs. Cooper you've been wearing, and when you wake again you put on the mask and clothes of Yumi Saito. There's the sound of movement in the stall next door as you dress, and you peek out to check that the passage is empty before scampering back out onto the store. You drop off Chelsea's clothes and other belongings at the lost and found department; they will find their way back the new Chelsea eventually, but you want them to leave a less direct trail. After that, you take a bus back to school to pick up Yumi's car.<br/>
<br/>
And yet you're not sure whether you are going to continue to use Yumi as an alias. She is the most convenient for you, of course. You already have a copy of her body and mind, and Blackwell approves of her. And from Yumi's vantage point on the squad you would be able to see close up how Mrs. Cooper handles the cheerleaders. But Yumi and Chelsea aren't friends, so you would not get to look at her home life or (what you really want) to see Chelsea struggle with being her own mother.<br/>
<br/>
If you wanted to get close to Chelsea, you reflect on the bus ride back to the school, you should pick one of her friends to impersonate—probably Maria Vasquez. But if you wanted to watch the Coopers in their natural habitat, there is really only one good choice—Jordan Cooper, the college-age brother who still lives at home. And either of them, you are sure, would meet with Blackwell's approval.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222111133
author_id: seuzz
title: Prepping for a College Caper
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>After retrieving your car from the high school, you drive out to Blackwell's villa. He isn't there, but you go inside to wait.<br/>
<br/>
You are working in the library, under its shadows and the staring eyes of its stuffed animals, with the dusty smell of old leather in your nostrils and the discordant clash of the grandfather clocks in you ears, when he arrives. "Ah, it is good to see you again, Miss Saito," he says as he glances through the doorway before passing deeper into the house. "But," he continues when he returns after depositing his book bag and jacket in another room, "am I to infer that this is only a temporary return to form?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yep," you grunt as you scrape a rune into the newly cast metal band; it will attach to the newly cast mask on the table nearby. "I told you I wanted to change aliases."<br/>
<br/>
"Finished your fun with the mother?" Blackwell asks in a dry voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," you lie. (What does it matter to him if Chelsea and her mother are now stuck impersonating each other?) "Except it gave me a lead on who I want to impersonate. It's a guy up at the university, son of the, uh, mother I was pretending to be. He's on campus all the time, so it'd be easy for him—for me, I mean—to get in to see you up at your office if I needed to. And he might be taking a class from you."<br/>
<br/>
"What's his name?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jordan Cooper. He's a lacrosse player, a sophomore."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. The name is not familiar. But I understand the choice, and I approve of the thinking behind it. Does he live on campus?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, he lives with his family, but he's in and out whenever he likes. He's not tied down."<br/>
<br/>
"Excellent. Come around after you have, ah, made the move, and we'll examine your choice more closely. Although," he adds as he sees your frown, "I don't anticipate any objections."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." You lower your head and return to making the <i>mens.</i> "There was another reason I decided to pick him."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate, because you're on the verge of giving Blackwell a reason to veto your choice. But you plunge on.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I know you warned me off of your other assistant. Lucy. You said it would be a bad idea for us to work together. But she's in college too, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes?"<br/>
<br/>
"And so I was just figuring that if you ever <i>did</i> need for us to meet or get together, it would be easier to set it up if I was being a college student too. So that's all." You shrug stiffly. "It was more of an afterthought, really."<br/>
<br/>
You are now so embarrassed that you can't raise your eyes to meet Blackwell's. He doesn't speak for some time either.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not a bad idea," he says at last. "Yes, I did warn you about becoming entangled with her, didn't I? But that was for professional reasons—a work hazard—not out of any, ah, personal principle."<br/>
<br/>
You freeze in mid stroke.<br/>
<br/>
"But her, ah, project interests have recently evolved, and so have yours since I issued that warning, and I hereby withdraw those earlier objections."<br/>
<br/>
You look up to gape at him. "In fact," the professor continues with a speculative expression as he studies you, "I think it would be well and good for you children to become acquainted."<br/>
<br/>
The words dry up in your throat, so after a pause the professor continues. "What did you say the young man's name was?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jordan. Cooper. He's a lacrosse player."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's brow furrows. "So you mentioned. Why do you mention it again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just because," you stammer. "Because it would, uh, make it look even less ... funny ... if we, we—Lucy and me—we met up on campus." You feel yourself blushing hotly.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's expression softens.<br/>
<br/>
"Will," he says, "I understand why you might say that. But if you believe Lucy can't appreciate you in your, ah, 'native form', then you are underestimating both yourself and her. She is an intelligent girl, and I have the very firm impression that she admires intelligence in others." Blackwell ends by giving you a very knowing look.<br/>
<br/>
You make no reply, but you think: <i>PROFESSOR BLACKWELL, ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?</i> Everything you've seen or heard about Lucy Vredenburg says that she's only interested in good-looking guys who keep themselves in great shape and who know how to party. The idea that she'd be interested in a guy who looks like <i>you,</i> or who has <i>your</i> interests, is totally nuts.<br/>
<br/>
<i>And yet,</i> argues a little, niggling voice in the back of your head, <i>she's working for Blackwell. Maybe she's got a taste for magic, too.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe,</i> that voice continues as you numb all over, <i>she likes the power that comes with it. And is turned on by guys who can wield that power.</i><br/>
<br/>
Is there anything else that can explain that she is working for a guy like Blackwell?<br/>
<br/>
Perhaps the professor is reading your mind, for with a waggish smile he says, "Apply yourself, Will, and the young lady is apt to be impressed."<br/>
<br/>
With that exhortation he turns and in his squeaking shoes exits the library.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Will groans when you show up later that evening on his doorstep with the blank mask and orders to polish it. You cut him some slack, for he really does look exhausted, and tell him that you want it polished by Saturday morning, for you figure a weekend is the best time to try catching Jordan Cooper.<br/>
<br/>
But how are you to get close to him? Yumi hardly knows him.<br/>
<br/>
Later that night, when you're back at the Saito's, you knock on her brother's open bedroom door and look in. Mokichi glances up from his desk, where he's slouching with his cell phone. "Hey," you say. "You remember Jordan Cooper from when you guys were in high school?"<br/>
<br/>
Mokichi visibly bristles. He's a runner, with a wiry build and a shock of coffee-dark hair that picks up more static electricity than a cat's fur coat, so when he bristles every muscle in his arms and neck stands out, and the tips of his hair stiffen and rise. "Yeah," he says. The word shoots out from the back of his throat past frozen lips.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, do you ever see him around up at the college?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
You give him a look. "Well, don't just gas on about him, okay? Give me a chance to get a word in edgewise!"<br/>
<br/>
Mokichi's coal-black eyes flash, but he says nothing. <br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "So there's no way you could set it up so I can meet him up with him?"<br/>
<br/>
Mokichi stares. "The fuck would you wanna do that for?"<br/>
<br/>
"To talk to him. Jesus, what else do you think I'd want to do? <i>Eugh!</i> I want to talk to him about his sister, is all. Apparently I've got as big a problem with her as you do with him, but at least I could try talking to him about her!"<br/>
<br/>
Mokichi's thumb dances across the face of his cell phone even as he holds your eye. "If we don't neither of us get along with them, maybe we should both stay away from them," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Hard to do when you're on the same cheerleading squad together!" When he makes no reply, you whirl on your heel and stomp off to your bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
For the rest of the night, as you finish Yumi's homework and relax online, you at every moment expect Mokichi to knock and enter with a phone number or a text or a message, but he never does.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're up at school bright and early the next morning, eager for a look at the results of your magical meddling. You had one bad moment as you were dressing after your shower, when your phone dinged with a news alert, and you had a sudden and horrible premonition of a just-breaking story of a four-person murder-suicide at the home of Rob and Kelly Cooper, but it was just a flash-flood alert. (This will be the fourth day of steady rain in Saratoga Falls.) You have to suppress a small squeak of anticipation as you step into the gym.<br/>
<br/>
The east court, where the basketball team has pre-class practice, is empty as you cross it to take a seat on the risers facing the entrance to the girls' changing room, and you settle in with one eye cocked on the door and the other on the screen of your cell phone. Michelle Estrich—the one "unpopular" girl on the cheerleading squad—comes in first, followed by the Garner sisters, who fail to spot you. Then the basketball players, wet from the showers and steaming with testosterone, come swaggering out of the boys' changing room in small packs. Gordon Black and Steve Patterson, the alpha assholes who run the team, are the last to emerge.<br/>
<br/>
The timing is perfect. As they reach the doors, Chelsea comes in. She does a double take at Gordon, and even from the other side of the gym you see her eyes widen.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon says something to her, then bends down to put his face to hers. His hand goes to her bust. For a moment they hold this pose.<br/>
<br/>
Then Chelsea leaps upon him, wrapping her legs around his waist and clutching him by the shoulders. She burrows her mouth into his.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212221111331
author_id: seuzz
title: The Changed Cheerleader
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So what was Chelsea up to in practice today?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance up from your cell phone as Jessica Garner slides into the seat in front of you. It's fourth period, and you're in AP German IV.<br/>
<br/>
(Which, along with Jessica, you are sharing with Geoff Mansfield, Anthony Kirk, Amanda Ferguson, Ricky Golia, Abigail Kane, Tyler Burns, Charles Hartlein, Preston Spinks, and Cody Schaefer. If there's any other class at Westside with a bigger concentration of supercilious assholes, you don't know what it could be. The smug is suffocating.)<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think Chelsea was up to something?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I'm asking <i>you,</i>" Jessica retorts as she drops a brick-like textbook on her desk. "You're the paranoiac who's always convinced she's up to something."<br/>
<br/>
You make a face (which she doesn't see) and slump deeper into your seat. What can you say? <i>Maybe Chelsea got body-swapped with someone who's actually human?</i><br/>
<br/>
Usually the captain of the squad throws herself into the thick of things. Tumbling and telling others how she wants them to tumble. Ordering this girl to do it this way and that other girl to do some other thing that way, while watching with a hard eye and a sharp tongue. Twirling on her feet and twisting her hair about a finger as she spits out one idea before swatting it away with another.<br/>
<br/>
Thrusting her boobs and her butt out so that all the other girls will notice that her boobs and butt are bigger, harder, and shapelier than theirs.<br/>
<br/>
For whatever reason, Chelsea Cooper cannot stand or sit still during practice, even if it's just to flap her jaw and dart her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
But today she sat very primly on the bottom-most bench of the bleachers and directed the rest of the squad to show her their best moves while she watched. And when that was done she asked first Kendra, then Gloria, and then Cindy—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Cindy Vredenburg, her archenemy, who she beat out to become head cheerleader!</i><br/>
<br/>
—to each take a turn directing various routines, and asking them for ideas on how to improve them.<br/>
<br/>
And all the time, it seemed to you, she was turning paler and paler, until the blood ran green and sickly at her throat and cheeks. Her forehead was the color of chalk by the time she dismissed the squad to the showers, and her bangs were plastered to her forehead.<br/>
<br/>
And when she spoke, she spoke very quietly, in a low voice, and not once did she insult or criticize any of the girls.<br/>
<br/>
There were puzzled glances all around during practice and in the changing room afterward, but Jessica's question now is the first anyone has commented to you on the weirdness at practice. Even in third-period Chemistry, Cindy herself didn't remark on it. (Though she did look distracted and preoccupied.)<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe she was just sick," you tell Jessica. "She did look kind of sick, didn't she? Like she wanted to throw up?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can do better than that, Yumi."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you want her to be up to something?" You feel yourself flaring. "Or why do you want to think that she's up to something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because she usually is."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, who's the paranoiac now?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't hold a candle to <i>you.</i> You come up with the best worst-case scenarios."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe she just had cramps real bad," you retort. "Same as it sounds like <i>you've</i> got—"<br/>
<br/>
But you break off as Frau Kohl steps up to the lectern and calls class to order.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Jessica take lunch with Cindy and Lin Pol, eating at the end of the table where Kelsey Blankenship and the rest of the AP snots hold court. None of your quartet particularly like Kelsey and her friends, but there's no one better to eat with, and it saves you from the attentions of creeps and cretins like Erik Carstairs, Ryan Shuler, and Lester Pozniak, who might otherwise try to hit on you. Talk is mostly about classmates, boys, upcoming parties, and Halloween. Chelsea gets mentioned only once, when Jessica (after getting a text from her sister, who shares fourth lunch with the rest of cheerleaders) tells your group in a low, sneering voice that Chelsea and Gordon apparently took their lunch in private.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Meaning they took it in the fuck room.</i> You chew that news (and the Mexican casserole) silently and thoughtfully. <i>Kelly Cooper, in her daughter's body, getting it on with her daughter's boyfriend.</i> That's very interesting, even if it's taking place out of sight.<br/>
<br/>
It leaves you dying to make the switch with Chelsea's brother, so you can see if Kelly carries the flirtation over into the Coopers' own house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you're still at a loss for how to get to Jordan when Mokichi, belatedly, comes through. Your cell goes off in the middle of Orchestra—earning you a blazing glare from Mrs. Heinz—and Mokichi's surly attitude oozes through the text that you open when class is over: <i>Found a guy can put u touch w jordan cooper.</i> There follows a name and a contact number.<br/>
<br/>
You blow a bang out of your eye in exasperation. <i>Mokichi couldn't get Jordan's number from the guy and pass it along to you?</i> Well, whatever. At least now you have the start of an angle.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Saturday afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
Stupid traffic, stupid chores, stupid Mokichi!</i> you fume to yourself as you race from the Prescott house toward Blackwell's villa. You're fifteen minutes late already, and it'll be another five at least before you get there!<br/>
<br/>
The plan seemed so simple when it came to you, in a flash, on Thursday night. <i>Tell Jordan I've got a cousin who works for a big-city website that wants to interview him about the Keyserling lacrosse squad. Tell him to come meet us out at Blackwell's. Make the switch there!</i> And sure enough, Jordan Cooper bit when you texted him the bullshit story, and he agreed to meet you Saturday afternoon at your "uncle's house." And even Blackwell went along with it when you asked if you could make the switch at his place.<br/>
<br/>
It was foolish of you, in retrospect, not to explain your plan in detail to the professor. But you were counting on being there and being in charge when Jordan arrived.<br/>
<br/>
But then Yumi's mom sprang some surprise Saturday-morning chores on you, and Yumi's dad and brother went into town to run separate errands and you had to wait for one of them to get back with a car. You texted Jordan to reset the meeting time, but you got no reply before Mokichi returned. And then, after you tore out the garage and hurled yourself down the street, all the traffic lights were against you!<br/>
<br/>
All hope that Jordan will be late to the meeting dies when you see a second car parked at Blackwell's, next to Blackwell's own. <i>Shit shit shit shit shit!</i> you mutter as you sprint up the walk to the front door. <i>What has Blackwell told Jordan? Has the whole thing blown up?</i> It's a good sign that Jordan's car is still there. But will he be dangerously on his guard after talking to a college professor who has no idea that he (Jordan) is supposed to be there to conduct an interview with Yumi Saito's cousin?<br/>
<br/>
You rap briefly on the front door, but let yourself in.<br/>
<br/>
The house is silent and dark, and it has a deserted feel as you peer into its shadowy depths. <i>Professor Blackwell?</i> you almost shout, but you catch yourself. Jordan is supposed to think that Blackwell is some kind of uncle of yours. (Oh, why did you make him and your fictitious cousin relatives? The Mona Lisa is more Japanese than Blackwell!) You push the front door shut and tiptoe down the central hallway. You flinch as you pass the gaping entrance to the library: a hot exhalation rushes from it to envelop you, then dies.<br/>
<br/>
"Hello?" you call out. "Anyone here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that you, Mr. Prescott?" It's the professor's own plummy voice, coming from the back of the house. You make a face. <i>Way to blow my cover, man!</i> you think.<br/>
<br/>
You hop down the hallway and turn into the formal dining room at the back corner of the house. Blackwell is bending over the dining table, studying an immense sheet of black paper—like a set of blueprints—that is being held down at the corners by four lighted candles. "Ah, here you are at last," he says as he glances up. "Aren't you late?"<br/>
<br/>
"Car trouble. Also, I had to run across town to pick up the new mask from my, uh, replacement."<br/>
<br/>
He frowns. "I thought I told you that you had to do your own crafting and polishing."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, never mind. Let me see it."<br/>
<br/>
You draw the mask from your bag. He takes it and examines it minutely. "Is the electricity out or something?" you ask as you give the candles an uneasy glance.<br/>
<br/>
"Or something," Blackwell grunts without looking up from the mask.<br/>
<br/>
You bite your lip. "And Jordan?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your young man? He's in the library, waiting for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Waiting?" Your jaw drops. "What did you tell him? I mean, about why I wanted to meet him here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't waste any small talk on him."<br/>
<br/>
"So you just sent him into the library?"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>dragged</i> him into the library." Blackwell hand you the mask back. "I knocked him out immediately on opening the door to him. I saw no point in making things complicated."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122211113312
author_id: seuzz
title: The Cooper D'etat
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You trot back into the library. Hidden between two desks, where you couldn't see from the doorway, lies the crumpled body of Jordan Cooper. He's sloppily dressed in skimpy black running shorts, flip-flops, and a tank top. <br/>
<br/>
You lay the new mask across his face, then settle in to wait. You have ten minutes to kill the while the mask copies him, and you spend it with Yumi's cell phone in your hand. You warned Prescott when you picked up the mask to be ready to meet you up at Westside so you could release Yumi and transfer the Prescott mask onto Jordan. But now that it's crunch time, you change your mind. If you leave your mask on Yumi, and put Yumi's mask on Jordan, you can have two golems under your control, and one of them (Yumi) you can use to watch happenings at school.<br/>
<br/>
So you send your old self a text cancelling the meeting, and run up to the workroom long enough to make a <i>ludius</i> paste that will enslave Yumi's mask to your control.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The flip-flops flap noisily against your heels as you swagger back to the dining room. Blackwell, still bent over his work, glances up. "Any ill effects from the sleeping mist?" he asks as you jerk your chin in greeting. <br/>
<br/>
"Nah, none that I can tell." You grin past him at the Yumi-bot, who is glowering at you from the far corner of the room. You have Jordan's memory—and barely that—of the front door opening and of a fat man with a tangled beard raising a spray bottle to mist you in the face with something sticky.<br/>
<br/>
"Mnh," Blackwell says. "Jordan Cooper, you say this young man's name is? Kindly leave me a copy of his class schedule. Can you say when it would be convenient for you to schedule your studies with me?"<br/>
<br/>
You lean against the doorway and suck a tooth. <i>Never</i> is the answer Jordan would prefer to give. Classes get in the way of hanging out with friends and going to parties, and with trips to the clubs and the titty bars. The last thing Jordan Cooper wants is to crowd his free time with more classes and studying.<br/>
<br/>
"He's got free hours here and there," you say. "You know what college schedules are like." (And so do you, now.) "I guess my nights are all free, though. But, uh, that's when I'm supposed to be doing my regular classwork, you know."<br/>
<br/>
There is no mirth in the professor's smile. "Then I will expect you here each afternoon by four-thirty," he says, "for a set of six-hour tutorials."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. "Hey, I'll have a character to keep up! I can't—"<br/>
<br/>
"You will have no problem on that score. We will use the golem to keep Mr. Cooper in circulation while you are studying with me. You do remember the golem, don't you, Mr. Prescott?" he adds as your mouth hangs open.<br/>
<br/>
"Well ... yes." That would be the stone thing that wore your mask home while you stayed nights with the professor, before you began your impersonation of Yumi.<br/>
<br/>
"We will resume your studies as before, with you spending afternoons, evenings, and nights with me, when possible. With the help of the golem, your young man here can take care of his own social life and academic studies even as you pursue yours with me."<br/>
<br/>
You are nearly speechless, for this is the opposite of what you were planning. "I'll have to put some of that stuff inside the mask," you point out. "So I can order it around."<br/>
<br/>
"No need. My golem will obey <i>my</i> instructions, and I will instruct it to be here in the mornings in time for you to change for classes, and to resume Mr. Cooper's existence when you are not occupying it."<br/>
<br/>
You rub your temples. "Do I at least get today off? To be Jordan?"<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's smile is so thin you can hardly see it inside the tangle of his beard. "I hope you don't take me for a Dickensian taskmaster," he says. "Your time is your own until four-thirty."<br/>
<br/>
It's already half-past-one, so that only gives you three hours of free time. Rather than argue—which would be useless—you gesture Yumi to follow you, and race out of the house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After giving Yumi instructions of your own—mainly, to just be herself and to listen closely to all the gossip about Chelsea—you climb into the old family sedan that Jordan owns and set off for home. On the drive, you settle more deeply into Jordan's mind and personality, probing his mental recesses like a dentist picking at the crevasses of his teeth. Jordan, it appears to you, is oblivious to his father's impatience, but you still breathe in relief when you pull into the driveway and see that his car is gone.<br/>
<br/>
Eager though you are to find one of the body-swapped Cooper girls, you milk the anticipation by pausing to first root through the refrigerator for leftovers. With a cold slice of maple-glazed pork tenderloin between two pieces of bread, you shuffle into the back of the house, drawn by the soft hum of machinery.<br/>
<br/>
Your mom—or so she appears to be—is hunched atop the exercise bike, pedaling furiously. Her face is red, and her hair hangs limply around her face. She says nothing, but her expression hardens when she sees you.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey. 'Mback," you tell her through a mouthful of gummy bread.<br/>
<br/>
"So I see," she huffs. When you say nothing, she adds, "You didn't come home last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Crashed with Jack. Game went long." You tear another hunk out of the sandwich.<br/>
<br/>
She says nothing, and you just smack and chew your snack while watching her. <i>Why is Chelsea working her mom-body so hard?</i> you wonder. <i>Mom's not out of shape. She's in great shape, in fact. Well, for her age, that is.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Do you want anything else?" your mom asks. "Honey," she adds in a very tight voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Nhn. Just chillin'. 'Specting to hear from some'n, killing time till then. I'll take a shower, I guess." You pop the last of the sandwich into your mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't use up all the hot water. Like you usually do."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll make it quick and cold," you assure her, then amble out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The shower gives you your first chance to really get a feel for this new body. Jordan is in pretty good shape, but even he is aware of a gap between himself and most of his teammates. He worked out pretty hard when he was in high school, and so you've got his deep chest, his strong thighs and calves, and his biceps. But he's gotten slacker and lazier since moving up to Keyserling, so that he's softened where once he was hard. You have to press deep with a fingertip, for instance, to feel the abdominal muscles that were once visible but which are now buried under a pillow of belly fat.<br/>
<br/>
And as for the short, curly hair (blonde, but with the faintest tinge of copper)— Well, when you study yourself in the mirror after the shower, with your scalp wet and plastered down, it is all too easy to see the fissures and furrows opening up in the front, where the widow's peak (once so firm) is starting to collapse and retreat.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you've got a girlfriend, and a sausage-like cock and a set of balls that from long practice you know how to use. You squeeze your ball sack now as you study your reflection, and gently run a thumbnail along the underside of your stiffening cock, and think back to last Thursday night, when Elise last sucked Jordan off. It was four in the morning, in one of the college laundry rooms, while he kept her company as she waited for the dryers to finish her things.<br/>
<br/>
In your bedroom you change into clean underwear and track pants before, bare-chested and bare-footed, you pad back downstairs again to flop onto one of the sofas in the living room. You flick on the TV and stop on one of the college ball games. <br/>
<br/>
You're actually getting into it—there are two surprise touchdowns in ten minutes—when your mom, looking freshly showered, sweeps into the room with a dust rag. "Get your feet off the coffee table," she barks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not wearing any shoes!" you protest, but you lift and drop your feet anyway.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't backtalk me, Jordan. I'm not in the mood."<br/>
<br/>
You flinch. "Where's Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
She hesitates. "Grocery store. She's in charge of dinner tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jeez—" You catch yourself. "Guess I'll go eat with Jack and them, then."<br/>
<br/>
"You do that," she snaps, and the firmness of her retort startles you. You can only stare as she bends over to rub furiously at the spot on the coffee table where you'd been resting your bare feet. "And while you're eating with him, find out how much he'd charge you to rent his couch."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Why would I want to rent his—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Does he have a spare room? Do any of your friends have a spare room?" There's a tone of barely controlled fury in her voice. "Your dad's talking about giving you one month, Jordan, one month to find a place on campus to live. And if you can't find a place of your own or someone to room with, you'll have to rent a couch from someone."<br/>
<br/>
She gives the coffee table one last, firm slap with the cloth, then straightens up to hold your eye. There's a triumphant gleam in it.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your mouth hanging open. "Okay," you say after taking a deep breath. "I'll talk to Jack or some of the other guys. I'll, uh, need some help paying for—"<br/>
<br/>
"If you've got enough free time for all-night games with your friends, you've got enough free time to get a job."<br/>
<br/>
Now your eyes bulge. "Uh, well—"<br/>
<br/>
"And you'll be paying for your own meals, too, since your sister's cooking is obviously not to your taste." Now her tone turns nasty. "She's going to be in charge of the cooking from here on out."<br/>
<br/>
First Blackwell, now your mom! You're getting it from every side!<br/>
<br/>
Except, of course, this isn't your mom. This is Chelsea, getting back at her brother for every mean or thoughtless thing he ever did to her!</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222111133122
author_id: seuzz
title: Teasing the Cats
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As soon as your "mom" has stalked off to dust another room, you sneak upstairs to hide.<br/>
<br/>
Jordan's bedroom is fairly tidy, not because he's a tidy sort of person—he's even sloppier and lazier than you are—but because his mom keeps it picked up for him. He drops his clothes on the floor or shoves them into the closet hamper, but she washes, irons and returns them to the dresser or the hangers; she always makes the bed up by mid-afternoon; and Jordan, being no more a reader than anyone else in the family, keeps his shelves bare of any books except those he needs for the semester. Only his lacrosse gear, shoved in the corner, gets regular attention from him.<br/>
<br/>
And yet the room has a rumpled feel. The chair at the desk is askew, the desktop is piled with papers and books and pencils, and the bedspread is wrinkled from where he crashed yesterday afternoon for a pre-party catnap. You wrinkle it further by falling backward onto it, and take out your cell phone. For a quarter hour you nurse a cursory erection as you flip through the album of college girls Jordan has surreptitiously snapped photos of, before you're interrupted by a text from Jack. He wants to know if you want to go see the just-opened <i>Howling Skies</i> with him and some of the other guys.<br/>
<br/>
You suck on a tooth. It's tempting, for a movie would get you out of the house, and Elise has been keen to see it. <i>It's a steampunk thing with pirates and airships,</i> she told Jordan back when she first mentioned it to him. Elise has a really sexy body, but she's also got nerdy tastes. To his own surprise, Jordan is really turned on by the combination.<br/>
<br/>
You're about to text Jack an affirmative when you catch sight of the time at the top of the phone: 2:27. The show won't be over before you're due back at Blackwell's, so you regretfully demur.<br/>
<br/>
Voices waft from downstairs, but you don't peek out of your room until you hear soft footfalls in the carpeted hallway outside your door. You roll off your bed and go out to check.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's door is open, and when you look in you find her bustling about her dresser, changing out hair combs and earrings. She turns sharply when you call. "I hear you're in charge of dinner tonight," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," she says, and her face loses a little of its color. "Lasagna." She turns back to the dresser.<br/>
<br/>
"That's pretty complicated. And Mom says you're in charge of all the cooking from now on."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. She's, uh, going to help me out. Giving me pointers."<br/>
<br/>
"What, are you planning on opening a restaurant or something? Why the sudden interest in cooking?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea turns a little pink. "It's not a sudden—! It's just something I, uh, want to get more practice with!"<br/>
<br/>
"Did Gordon say something to you about needing to learn to cook?" A feeling of faint revulsion washes over you, and you realize that Jordan is no fonder of Gordon than you are. He's rather less fond, in fact, for he actually does have some protective instincts for his sister.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea's color deepens. "If he did," she retorts, "I don't think it's any of <i>your</i> business!" She turns back to the dresser and fumbles about in the top drawer. When she doesn't turn back around, you tread downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
Of course you know why your "sister" is doing the cooking now.  Chelsea only knows how to add granola to a cup of yogurt, and in Kelly Cooper's body she would be no more capable of cooking a meal than you are. Maybe less capable. And so Kelly, now in Chelsea's body, has to take over.<br/>
<br/>
But your scornful reference to Gordon—though uttered by chance—has reminded you that you have at least one sharp stick you can poke at the real Chelsea with.<br/>
<br/>
You find your "mom" sorting through the dirty clothes in the laundry room, muttering to herself. "Is Chelsea's boyfriend going to start eating with us?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
She nearly drops the jeans she's holding. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is Gordon going to start eating with us? I mean, if she's going to be fixing meals around here—"<br/>
<br/>
"What's that got to do with Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Nothing, I guess. Only, I was just wondering if that's how come she wants to start fixing meals so bad. Give her an excuse to have him over, show off what she can do." You lower voice. "It seems like they're getting pretty serious about each other, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
She flushes, just like the girl upstairs. "Well, so what if they are?" she stammers. "It's good if they are, and if Chelsea wants to, mm—" She twitches all over, and covers it by snatching up an armful of clothes and dumping them in the washer.<br/>
<br/>
"Is she going out with him tonight? It's Saturday, you know. Heavy date night."<br/>
<br/>
She twitches again, and runs her hands all over the front of the washer, as though searching out by touch for the settings she wants. "I told you, she's in charge of cooking dinner."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, after dinner, then. It looks like she's getting ready to go out. She's doing up her hair and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"So why do you suddenly care?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't 'suddenly care'," you retort. You glance back into the house, before adding, "But it just seems like this is the kind of thing she'd be doing—this learning to cook and stuff—if she was thinking about getting really serious about Gordon. Like, <i>really</i> serious. I mean, up to now, Chelsea and cooking was, like ... I dunno. A dog taking piano lessons."<br/>
<br/>
Your mom flushes. <br/>
<br/>
"Well," she says in a shrill voice, "then I guess it's about time she took an interest in—! And maybe <i>you'd</i> better learn something about cooking too, Jordan, if you're going to be moving out of—! And you can't just keep ruining your body with fast food," she gabbles, interrupting herself yet again. "It's high time some one of us told you that you're getting fat! Too fat to be walking around without a shirt on, that's for—! <i>Get a clean one!</i>" she shouts as you bend over to pluck a black t-shirt from the dirty pile. She's breathing hard, and her eyes have a glitter of danger in them. <br/>
<br/>
"Chill out, mom, I'm just—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't talk to me that way, I'm your mother!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just saying—"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Do you want to be grounded, mister?"</i><br/>
<br/>
You don't know what to say to that, so you just stare back. Even with Jordan's instincts, and with his "mother" standing right in front of him, you have a hard time taking Chelsea seriously. She's trying <i>way</i> too hard.<br/>
<br/>
And she's the first to falter. Her eyes flick over to something behind you, and she visibly flinches. You turn to find that your sister has crept up behind and is watching and listening with an expression of concern.<br/>
<br/>
You dodge out from between them. "I'll just go change," you say. "I'm supposed to meet some guys for a, uh, study session in a bit." Neither of the women stops you, and neither one speaks (if at all) until you're out of earshot on the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your jabs at Chelsea didn't land quite right, but on the drive out to Blackwell's you amuse yourself by fantasizing about the tug of war that must be developing between Chelsea and Kelly over Gordon. <br/>
<br/>
It wasn't just on Thursday that Gordon and his current girlfriend took their lunch in the private loft over the gym. On Friday they took their lunch there too. And this morning, as you were getting ready to meet Jordan, you got a text from Lin, who said that Gordon's car was in the gym parking lot when she got up to the school for an impromptu jog around the track, which suggests that he spent the night there. Did "Chelsea" spend it there with him? You wish Jordan had spent last night at home, so that he could know if his sister's bedroom was unoccupied or not.<br/>
<br/>
And one thought will lead to another, and you almost drive off the road when it occurs to you that Chelsea, in her mother's body, will be sharing a bed with her father. <i>Yikes and double yikes!</i> For though Kelly Cooper's particular memories have faded, you do remember certain facts, like how much Rob and Kelly like to have sex with each other.<br/>
<br/>
So you've a preoccupied air when you arrive at Blackwell's. He sends you upstairs to change, and when you wake again in Jared's face—and his is not so different from Jordan's—you are alone. When you catch up to the professor downstairs, he tells you that he has already sent the Jordan-bot on its way with orders to resume Jordan's life and to return tomorrow by noon.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you sure it's safe to let it go out?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He frowns. "That's what it's designed to do," he says. "To impersonate its original while the magician—"<br/>
<br/>
"I just mean it's not going to tell its family or friends where it's been or what's been happening to it, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be absurd. I've given it strict instructions on what it can say and do. Really, Will," Blackwell says, sounding tired, "you underestimate me."<br/>
<br/>
You spend the rest of the evening on Latin and sigils. You do very well, you think, and Blackwell only has to correct you at a few point. But he seems to grow more and more peevish with you, and finally dismisses you from your studies with yet an hour to go before midnight.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning, you are washing up the breakfast dishes—on Blackwell's orders—when Jordan comes in. "Yeah, hey, bruh," he greets you. His tone is wary, and he is giving you the fish eye. "Had fun," he says when you ask what he did last night. "Went clubbing." His brow furrows. "Hooked up with this girl I knew back in high school."<br/>
<br/>
Later, upstairs, when you wake inside his mask and mind again, you are able to confirm that the girl in question was Lucy Vredenburg.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212221111331221
author_id: seuzz
title: Flirting with Disaster
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're thoughtful as you slowly dress in Jordan's clothes after you have his mask back on. It is clear that he is as puzzled by what happened last night as you are.<br/>
<br/>
It started here, in Blackwell's house, when Jordan found himself suddenly transported from one bedroom to another, with that fat professor standing close and giving him an even closer, harder stare. Whatever astonishment that "Jordan" might have felt was soon overwhelmed as the fat man explained some pertinent facts to him, namely, that he was bound by the fat man's will and required to carry out his instructions. Those instructions proved not to be onerous: Jordan was to leave this house and do as pleased with three caveats, namely, to never so much as hint to anyone that he had been to this house or had met a "Professor Aubrey Blackwell"; to return Sunday morning by noon, and earlier if possible; and to spend the evening at Vaqueros, a club on Twentieth Street, where if he chanced to meet her he was to pay close and affectionate attention to Lucy Vredenburg.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course, I instructed the golem in such a wise," Blackwell tells you a little later, when you talk to him in the library. "It was to facilitate that connection between you and Miss Vredenburg that I thought you were so interested in making. I knew that she would be at Vaqueros yesterday evening, so I arranged for your young man here to meet her there. Now it will not be awkward for you, as he, to call or otherwise arrange a, ah, rendezvous with her in future, if such be necessary."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at Blackwell. What he says makes sense. But it feels like he's pushing Lucy on you harder than you're pulling.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, he's made things kind of awkward for Jordan. "You know this guy already has a girlfriend, right?" you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Does he?" The professor gives you a quick, appraising glance up and down. "I assumed he was a 'young stud'," he says, his lips twisting satirically around the phrase. "Unattached and undesirous of commitments."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he does have a girlfriend—"<br/>
<br/>
"Is he unwilling to cheat on her? Are <i>you</i> unwilling to cheat on her?" the professor asks from under arched eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself reddening. Blackwell is the last person in the world you want to talk to about your cock and where you (or Jordan) might like to park it. With a mutter you cut him short and say you'll deal with it. "As long as you're back here by four-thirty," he reminds you as you turn to leave.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Where the fuck was your head last night?" Jack snorts as he hands you a beer.<br/>
<br/>
K. T. giggles. "Sounds like he was <i>getting</i> a head job!"<br/>
<br/>
You make a face as you pop off the bottle cap and tip back a bitter mouthful. It's not the beer that makes you flinch, though. It's K. T. and his lame-ass quips that you'd like to push out the window.<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting in the second-floor commons room of the house where he and Jack live. It's an old Victorian pile, two stories of white-and-green gingerbread with a tower surmounted by a copper cupola. It stands on Borman Avenue, across the street from the university campus, one of a dozen such houses built by the city fathers of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Now, most of them are university housing, their spacious suites chopped up into small, dorm-style rooms, with kitchens and bathrooms shared among half-a-dozen tenants or more. There's eight guys squeezed into 406 Borman, two to a room, and half of them, including Jack, are on the lacrosse team.<br/>
<br/>
Kieran "K. T." Kaminski, a roly-poly sophomore with a fringe of beard, a beanie, and a sweaty need to be "one of the guys," isn't on the team. But he's sunning himself in the second-floor commons room with you and Jack as though he's welcome.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," you groan from the beanbag chair you've flopped into. "You saw her. She was coming on to me! Didn't you ever—? When you and her was back at Westside—? C'mon, man you can't tell me you and Lucy didn't at least <i>once</i>—"<br/>
<br/>
Your voice fails under Jack Hunter's hard stare. He's two years older than you, and he was the captain of the lacrosse team at Westside when Jordan joined it as a sophomore, and he has been a kind of big brother to Jordan ever since. Jack is one of the few guys that Jordan easily wilts in front of.<br/>
<br/>
You hang your head now. "She never paid any attention to me back in high school," you mumble. "So if she wants to dance with me all of a sudden—"<br/>
<br/>
"Did she even remember you? From high school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure she did."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure she did!" K. T. echoes with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up." To you: "You think she could be serious about you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lucy? I dunno. Maybe. Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
Jack snorts. "She didn't pay any attention to you back in high school," he reminds you.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, come on, man, that's—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, throw away what you got with Elise—"<br/>
<br/>
He breaks off as the commons' room door flies open and Tyler Hendrickson storms in. Hendrickson is six-foot-three, a senior, an ex-Marine, and twenty-eight years old. Everyone (even the irrepressible K. T.) wilts when <i>he</i> enters a room. "That better not be my private stock you're drinking," he growls at Jack as he crosses to the dorm-sized refrigerator.<br/>
<br/>
"I can buy my own," Jack retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyone seen Sheehan this morning?" Hendrickson pulls out a beer, the same brand as you're drinking. Matthew Sheehan is his roommate.<br/>
<br/>
"No," Jack says. "What do you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I left him with two girls at the bar and he didn't come back last night." He crosses over to glare out the front window.<br/>
<br/>
"Sweet!" K. T. laughs. Jack starts to say, "So what do you care that—?" but Hendrickson slams the window up and leans out to yell.<br/>
<br/>
"Haynes!" he shouts. "Get your fucking ass off my fucking car, you fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
"Go fuck yourself!" a voice floats up hoarsely from below.<br/>
<br/>
"Who shoved a bee up your asshole this morning?" Jack asks. Hendrickson only gives him a cold glare before charging out of the room.<br/>
<br/>
K. T. snickers. "Shit, Tyler's just pissed that Sheehan got himself a threesome while he's stuck with Allison!"<br/>
<br/>
"Like Sheehan's even popped his cherry yet," Jack retorts. To you: "Would you jump into a threesome, if you had someone like Allison for a girlfriend?"<br/>
 K. T. tries answering for you: "Fourth man in a threesome? Sure he would! Cos that's, like—"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you to shut the fuck up."<br/>
<br/>
You groan as you clamber to your feet. "Look, just forget I even came by. Last night with Lucy was just flirting, okay?" Jack looks skeptical. "You know, if Elise asks."<br/>
<br/>
"Just fuckin' watch yourself, man," Jack says. "'Cos it'd be so easy for you to fuck things up with her."<br/>
<br/>
You cast a pained glance at K. T., and gently pluck at Jack's shirt. He follows you out to the narrow landing at the head of the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen," you pant, "any chance you guys could get rid of K. T.? I mean, get him to move out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Love to."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you?"<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos my folks, uh, want me to move out, and I'm gonna need a place to stay. Also, if you hear of any jobs that're open— Like, are they hiring at White Fang?" That's the outdoor equipment store Jack works at.<br/>
<br/>
Jack's eyebrows lift. "Jesus, man, sounds like they <i>are</i> throwing you out of the nest."<br/>
<br/>
You squirm on your feet. "I don't know yet if it'll actually work out that way. Things are, uh, weird back home at the moment. But it's got a good chance of happening. And, uh, it might be the best thing anyway."<br/>
<br/>
Jack claps an arm around your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll keep a look out, but you should look for other places to move into. 'Cos even if we got rid of K. T., you really wanna room with LaDuke?"<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him, then flinch. Nathan LaDuke, that smirking Long Island asshole, is about ten times worse than Kaminski.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The house is quiet when you get back home, but not quiet enough. As you stand, listening, in the kitchen, you hear someone snuffling and sniffing in the laundry room. There's a clink of glass against glass. You creep over to look through the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
It's your mom. She's pouring vodka into a drinking glass, refreshing the cranberry cocktail. She sees you in the corner of her eye and jumps, sloshing half her drink all down her front. "What the hell?" she sputters.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I heard—"<br/>
<br/>
You break off to look her up and down in astonishment. She is dressed in a short-sleeved green dress that shows lots of thigh and arm. Her hair is piled up, but the pile is listing a little to one side. She wobbles on her feet and tries hiding the vodka bottle behind her back. Then she flushes and brings it back out. Two more shots glug into the glass.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine! Here!" She holds out the bottle, then yanks it back. She looks down. "Shit, I gotta go change." She sets the bottle and glass on the dryer and totters toward the door. You scramble back, gaping as she wobbles past. She's wearing stiletto heels, and you cringe with each step she takes, expecting her to fall off them and break an ankle. "There's lasagna in the fridge for your lunch," she calls as she mounts the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
You're still staring up the stairs after her when Chelsea, also in a short dress (this one yellow) comes bounding down. "Oh!" she says, and she stops in mid-bound when she sees you. "Are you coming to lunch with us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are we going out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mom— No one told you?" She gives you a critical look up and down. "Well, you should change if you're going with us. And I wish you would," she adds in a low voice. "Gordon's supposed to be there too."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122211113312211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Sunday Lunch with Scrambled Seating
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You should probably get together with Elise, but there will be time for that later. The prospect of seeing Chelsea, Chelsea's mom, and Gordon all together at the same time and place is too delicious.<br/>
<br/>
You ask Chelsea to pause everything while you run upstairs to shower and change.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You clean up pretty good there, son," your dad says as the four of you are waiting for Gordon in the restaurant patio area. There's a critical edge to his voice, which tells you it isn't a compliment he's giving you, but a back-handed criticism of the way you usually dress.<br/>
<br/>
But Chelsea dimples. "I think he does, too," she coos, and she brushes down the lapel of your jacket. "You know, Jordan, you should dress up more often. You look really nice. And I bet Elise would like it. Girls like it when their guys dress up."<br/>
<br/>
You return her a tight smile and glance at your mom, who is staring with a frozen expression at a wall. But she makes no reaction.<br/>
<br/>
Nor is your smile the only thing that pinches. Behind your jacket, your dress slacks are cutting you hard under the belly. <i>Gotta start working out again,</i> you tell yourself. <i>Get some of this weight off!</i> You flinch when your eye falls on the restaurant's dessert display tray, with its towering slabs of chocolate cake, its clouds of tiramisu, and its goblets of candy-colored gelato.<br/>
<br/>
Ristorante Locarno is the toniest restaurant in town, and eating there is a rare treat. It is a rambling building built of rough, black rock—basalt, maybe—under a red tile roof, with a short, circular tower poking up at one end. Ivy climbs the outside wall that faces onto the back patio and its outside bar. A few couples, mostly elderly and clearly well off, sip cocktails at glass-top tables under burgundy-red canvas awnings. No one has been doing much talking. Chelsea has been rubbernecking with a vacant smile on her face; your dad has been thoughtfully studying the Specials menu; and your mom has been staring at that ivy-covered wall with a hard, blank expression.<br/>
<br/>
After ten dull minutes, Gordon finally arrives. At six-foot-six, with wide shoulders and a deep chest, he is physically even more intimidating that Tyler Hendrickson, with a physical presence only slightly softened by a soft, gray sports jacket and slacks. He's even wearing a tie!<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea gives an audible squeak and runs up to him. She and Gordon lightly embrace, touching each other only from the shoulder up, then she leads him back to where the rest of you are waiting. Handshakes and hellos are exchanged all around; your mom, you notice, is very gray in the face, except for a flush at her cheeks and throat.<br/>
<br/>
You fall in beside her as the five of you go in. "Are you okay?" you murmur. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine!" she hisses back. But she doesn't look fine. Apart from the flush in her face, she has changed into a dark gray suit that looks at least two sizes too small for her, so that it looks like her hips and boobs are about to burst out; you fancy you hear the stitches creaking and groaning as totters into the restaurant. You have to catch her at one point as she almost falls off those stiletto heels. <i>How much did she have to drink this morning?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
However much it was, it wasn't enough. "I'll have a Long Island Ice Tea," she mutters at the hostess as you're being seated. The hostess only smiles and says she'll pass the order on to the server.<br/>
<br/>
"Why did they put us at such a big table?" Gordon asks. The five of you have been put at an eight-top.<br/>
<br/>
"There's another couple joining us," your dad says. His eyes flick over at your mom, who doesn't react. "If you two want to move down," he tells Chelsea, who is seated at his right hand.<br/>
<br/>
She smiles. "I like sitting her between two such handsome guys," she gushes. "And across from a third," she adds, dimpling at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Who's joining us?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Frank and Betty Vredenburg." You jump at the names, but no one seems to notice. "Some school business they want to discuss. Honey," your dad says to your mom as a waiter in a starched, white shirt and tie appears at his shoulder. "How about you just get a regular ice tea instead of a, uh—"<br/>
<br/>
Her mouth tightens. "If I'm going to talk to Betty Vredenburg—"<br/>
<br/>
"Mom," Chelsea says in a low voice. Kelly falls silent, and lets your dad order her an Italian soda.<br/>
<br/>
"Think we can kill a bottle of Burgundy between us?" you ask Gordon. His eyes widen slightly, and after darting a glance at your dad he shakes his head. "Whiskey sour," you tell the waiter, and listen for someone to stop you. But no one does. Gordon hesitates, and says he'll stick to water.<br/>
<br/>
"Italian food two days in a row," your dad says as he studies the menu. "Someone's trying to spoil me. Chelsea made the best lasagna I ever had last night," he tells Gordon.<br/>
<br/>
"Mom showed me how," Chelsea says. Her face shines. "But I think I did pretty good for my first time." It looks like she has taken Gordon's hand under the table.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I been meaning to ask you," you tell Gordon with a reckless abandon that makes you want to laugh out loud. "Who got the key this year?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's brow furrows. After a pause, your dad says, "What key?"<br/>
<br/>
"Key to a special break room up at the high school," you tell the table. "A little perk Coach Brooks likes to give his favorite guys at the start of each year." You can hardly keep from giggling as the blood drains from every face at the table except your dad's. "I was just wondering who his 'favorite' was this year."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," Gordon says in a barely audible voice. There's a glint in his eye that might be fear, but might also be anger, but you just grin back at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Coach usually gives it to the team captain with the best chance of going to state," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know who's got it," Chelsea says. "We don't pay much attention to—"<br/>
<br/>
Your dad jumps in. "Westside's going to state this year, aren't they? Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sir? I mean, yes sir!" he stammers. "Doing our best to! Me and Steve—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who had the key when <i>you</i> were at Westside?" Chelsea demands of you. Her face has suddenly grown hard.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, I don't know who it was when I was a freshman. But when I was a sophomore it was John Simonson. That was the last year we fielded a decent football team, you know." You laugh at Gordon. "No way Coach would give the key to any of the football guys this year, right? Like, from what I hear they'll be lucky not to finish in last place. But, uh, my junior year it was Logan McMinn and his gang that got the key, and my senior year it was Nathaniel Heard. And last year I know Coach gave it to—"<br/>
<br/>
"Have <i>you</i> ever been up in that break room?" Chelsea asks. Her eyes bore into you.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "A couple of times, sure. It was a lot nicer than hanging out in the library during study hall. Now that I think about it, McMinn was the last time Coach didn't give it to one of the basketball teams. 'S'amatter, Black?" You grin. "You do something to piss off Coach Brooks?" When Gordon says nothing, you add, "I dunno, maybe he gave it to Ansell or someone. Lacrosse doesn't get the respect at Westside it should, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, now that you mention it," Gordon says, "I think I did hear something about the coaches giving some kind of, like, pass or key to Jason Lynch." He flushes as he holds your eye. "He's the pitcher for the baseball team."<br/>
<br/>
"You friends with him?"<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates before muttering, "We hang out sometimes."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can start working at that angle, your dad grabs the conversational baton again, asking Gordon about the basketball team and its prospects. You settle back and ignore the darting frowns that Chelsea is giving you. Instead, you lean over to ask your mom, who's seated on your right, how come the Vredenburgs are joining you for lunch.<br/>
<br/>
"Business with the cheerleaders," she says. When you press her, she adds, "Chelsea's going to ask Cindy to co-captain with her." There's a soft hiss inside her voice as she says it.<br/>
<br/>
You have to let out a low whistle. "I kinda figured Chels would wanna grip that position to herself with both claws."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's going to be part of a deal, a reorganization. And I'm going to start taking a hand with the squad. Kind of a part-time coach," she adds in a tone of grim triumph.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your jaw slacken. "You're going to start coaching the cheerleader squad?"<br/>
<br/>
"Help coach it," she says. "Chelsea asked me to."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, she wants your help <i>and</i> she wants Cindy to be co-captain with her?"<br/>
<br/>
You sense your mom stiffening, but before she can reply you're interrupted by cries of greeting. A middle-aged man and woman, hardly older than the Coopers, approach your table with wide smiles, and your mom and dad get up to welcome the newcomers. After introductions, your dad makes you move around to the other side of the table, next to Gordon, so that Betty Vredenburg and your mom can sit side by side.<br/>
<br/>
You content yourself with buttering and eating a roll while listening to the table talk, and it's not long, you notice, before your mom drops out and Chelsea takes over, telling Mrs. Vredenburg how she wants Cindy to take over some of the responsibilities for managing the squad.<br/>
<br/>
And Cindy's mom is very sympathetic. "I know how hard it can be," she tells Chelsea. "You know, Lucy was squad captain her senior year, and she can tell you all about— Well, I guess she can tell you herself when she gets here."<br/>
<br/>
You freeze at her words. Lucy will be joining you all for lunch as well?</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212221112
author_id: seuzz
title: Switch Mrs. Cooper and Cindy Vredenburg
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Why, Betty Vredenburg, I swear that spinning class is the best thing that's happened to you!" you exclaim when Cindy's mother opens the door.<br/>
<br/>
Her smile is tight; if anything she's <i>gained</i> weight in the past month. "It would be if I ever managed to make it out there," she says. "But I guess you've been skipping your workouts too, if you haven't noticed I've been skipping out at the gym?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just thought you took a different time," you say in surprise. "Well, whatever it is you've been doing, keep it up!"<br/>
<br/>
You continue to exchange mild, catty insults until Cindy comes down. You beam at her. "There's my second favorite Westside cheerleader!" Cindy and her mother exchange a quick glance before Cindy follows you out to the car.<br/>
<br/>
"So, what did you want to talk about?" Cindy asks as she buckles herself in. She sounds guarded and unhappy.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, Cindy, I know you'll have a hard time believing it, but I was a cheerleader in my time too." You give her a wry glance as you pull into the street.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I know that," Cindy says. "You were, like, even captain weren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, no," you reply. She looks at you in surprise. "No, I wanted to be, but there was this girl, Kimmy McPherson, and she was the captain. So, I know what it's like to be the number two girl."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy says nothing; her expression is hooded and more than a little dark. <br/>
<br/>
"I know that you and Chelsea are friends, but there's always going to be tensions. And Chelsea and you don't have to tell me anything. I can just see it when I see you together. I know I'm her mother but— Oh, who's the cute boy?"<br/>
<br/>
You've pulled up to a stop sign, and Will Prescott, at the corner, leans over and grins at Cindy. She blanches a little. "Oh, that's Will Prescott. He goes to school with us."<br/>
<br/>
"I knew I've seen him around," you say. You roll down the passenger side window, and Cindy flinches when Will leans. "Will Prescott, you just get better looking every time I see you. What are you up to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, just a little body-jacking," he smirks back, and shoves a mask into Cindy's face. He then hops into the back seat.<br/>
<br/>
Your plan is to drive around a bit while the blank mask absorbs Cindy's image, then make the first part of the switch, but you're quickly distracted by the mask: something has gone wrong. Instead of sinking down into her, it is sitting on her face and glowing with a bright light; it makes a subtle hissing sound. Prescott sees your consternation. "What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's the mask, it's—" You swerve sharply into a new lane; cars blare their horns, but you ignore them as you lunge into a mostly empty parking lot. You and Will stare at the mask. It is just keeps getting brighter and brighter.<br/>
<br/>
You pull it off her face. She doesn't respond immediately, and just looks back with a dazed expression. Then she shakes herself and starts to speak, but before she can say anything you reach up to her forehead, say the magic words, and pull.<br/>
<br/>
The mask comes off in your hand, revealing a golem. You and Will exchange meaningful glances: obviously this is Blackwell's work. But what is he up to?<br/>
<br/>
"You sure you want to do this?" Will asks as you begin loosening your clothes; he doesn't need to ask what you're planning.<br/>
<br/>
"We have to see how long she's been like this, what she's been up to." You point to the inside of the mask. "It's not golemized, so I'll be safe." You pull off Mrs. Cooper's face and put on Cindy's. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You feel grim but determined; unhappy but resigned. Or, at least, that's what the fake Cindy has been feeling. You yourself are feeling horrified.<br/>
<br/>
The last of the real Cindy's memories end yesterday afternoon, and have her driving out to Blackwell's with her sister, who has asked her help with an errand. Inside the very creepy house Lucy produces a mask and puts it to Cindy's face. Everything goes briefly dark and blank, and then the golem's memories take over: You lay in a dark room you've never seen, blinking at the ceiling. You got up from a slab to find yourself naked; on a nearby bed lay an unconscious and similarly naked Cindy. Lucy handed you a pile of clothes and led you up a narrow spiral staircase, to emerge in the library. There you dressed while Lucy gave you orders that you must obey: to act exactly like Cindy and to watch the movements of "Will Prescott" carefully. On Monday night you would get a phone call with new, additional orders. As you took this in, Lucy closed the secret door and placed something—an owl, it looks like—on a pedestal in an alcove.<br/>
<br/>
"Why would Blackwell put a spy on you?" Will asks when you tell him what you've learned.<br/>
<br/>
"Why wouldn't he? I'd put a spy on him. But I wouldn't—" You were going to say you wouldn't hurt an innocent girl to do so; but what exactly have you been doing to Yumi and to Mrs. Cooper? "Cindy's in a secret room just off the library. I doubt he has anything nice planned for her."<br/>
<br/>
If you're going to rescue Cindy time will be of the essence. But Blackwell will be at the house, and you won't be able to just charge in half-cocked. You're going to need a plan.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222112
author_id: seuzz
title: New masks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Blackwell notices your thoughtful mien when you arrive at his house. "Don't tell me young Yumi is having troubles at school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hm? No. I just screwed up on something and it's got me thinking. Oh, and I need to make a new mask. That's what I screwed up on. Would that be a problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not as far as I'm concerned, though you really should be careful about such thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" you ask in some alarm. After what you'd learned about there being a limit on the number of golems you should make ...<br/>
<br/>
"Because screw ups can be costly, as you've just learned." You roll your eyes but nod. "You should make that mask tonight, and anything else you will need, like the mind strips or sealing compound. I'm going out of town over the weekend and will be taking the <i>Libras</i> with me."<br/>
<br/>
You've learned not to inquire into his private plans. "Don't we have a pot of the sealing compound?"<br/>
<br/>
"The <i>Libras</i> is regrettably imprecise about a number of details. I'm not sure the sealing compound doesn't come with a 'best by' date, and so I only make up enough at a time as I need it. If you don't need to seal a mask before Monday, you might wait for my return."<br/>
<br/>
So after changing into Jared and sending Yumi home on the spare golem, you run up to the workroom and quickly prepare a mask. And then, on a sudden whim, you prepare two more, on the thought that it would be a good idea to have extras around for emergencies. You also make three basic mind strips to go with the masks, and then on a similar whim make three more.<br/>
<br/>
Downstairs, Blackwell remarks on the amount of time you spent in the workroom; you cover your activity by saying that you got absorbed in studying the sigils and the spells, trying to commit them to memory. He approves this diligence, and because you are still so bad at Latin insists on making that the day's lesson. You groan.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Blackwell usually leaves for the university at eleven in the morning, but because of his trip, he mentions, he'll be leaving at nine. You nod absent-mindedly, and as per your usual routine change into Yumi by eight and drive off for school. But this morning you keep driving around town, killing time, until nearly nine-thirty, when you head back to the house, change back into Jared, and send the golem to school instead. You don't care that Yumi is late and has missed her first-period and most of her second-period classes by that point. <br/>
<br/>
And to maintain the illusion that the house is empty (and to discipline yourself) you let the guardian roam free in his "daytime" guise. He will not bother you in your "sealed" bedroom of course, except to snuffle around the edges of the door, rattle the knob and sometimes knock; he is also easy to dodge if you leave the room, and if you have enough courage you can even face him down. But you're not eager to find out just how brave you are. In the daytime, he is only supposed to scare the crap out of intruders, to the point of chasing them out of high windows to their deaths, and you are sure he is quite good at his job.<br/>
<br/>
You don't start on the mask, though, but on the mind strips. This work is almost as tedious as polishing, and even more fraught, since you must be very precise in how you chisel out the runes. You also can't waste time; incomplete runes tend to attract "flies," Blackwell has warned, which can attach themselves to the incomplete strips. At best, these things ruin the strip. At worst, they sink unnoticed into them, to manifest in the mind of the wearer afterwards as mental malignancies, causing symptoms eerily similar to the more violent and debilitating forms of madness. Luckily, "flies" are easy to hear coming, and slow but conscientious work on a mind band will keep them at bay.<br/>
<br/>
But at least mind bands don't take very long to complete. You have two of them done by the time school lets out, and you call Will to come over to help you. The guardian has been very active in your hallway, so you avoid it by going out the window, sliding down the sloping roof and dropping to the ground, then going around to put him to sleep with the key to the front door. Prescott shows up about fifteen minutes later.<br/>
<br/>
"When it's time to go, call mom and dad and tell them you're sleeping over at Caleb's," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"He's not talking to me."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a shit. Will mom and dad believe you if you tell them you're staying over there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess. What, I'm staying over here? Is it a sleepover?" he grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Something like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Do we get to make s'mores and tell ghost stories?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to tell ghost stories in this house."<br/>
<br/>
"No shit, Steven King. But are we gonna have fun?" <br/>
<br/>
You hand him an unpolished mask. He screams and falls melodramatically onto his back like a dead thing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
By noon on Saturday you have one newly polished mask and six blank mind strips prepped for loading. A long conversation with you twin—who is just as brilliant and twisted as you—has given you a new scheme: it involves introducing a new ally into Westside, one with all the beauty and brains of a Mata Hari. You begin the scheme by uncovering the real Yumi long enough to copy her face into the newly polished mask.<br/>
<br/>
As for Lucy, who you still need to spy on: The easiest way to do that is to stick a mind strip on her and rip out her memories for your own later, lazy perusal. It would take a little effort to set up a meeting, but surely Lucy wouldn't mind meeting "Mrs. Cooper," the mother of the current captain of the cheerleader squad.<br/>
<br/>
That's the situation as it stands when the phone rings. It is Blackwell, telling you that Lucy is on her way over and that you are to let her in and let her go about her business unmolested. Prescott whoops with delight: "No need for Mrs. Cooper now!" You're less sanguine: hitting Lucy in the house might make the cause of her "fainting spell" a little too obvious, which you definitely don't want.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212221121
author_id: seuzz
title: HIt Lucy with a mind strip
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You and your doppelganger quickly consult and sketch out a plan. The tricky part of taking Lucy's mind is to not arouse her suspicions over a fainting spell. That argues for using the library—the spooky center of the house—as the ambush point. <br/>
<br/>
So you stake out the kitchen while Prescott lurks just inside the library, hiding behind one of its doors. You don't have long to wait before you hear the front door open and the hallway sound with footsteps. You look out from the kitchen. "Oh, it's you," you say off-handedly. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm just stopping to pick something up," she says without pausing in her step.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Blackwell called. You need any help?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Just fetching something."<br/>
<br/>
 You watch her without trying to be too obvious about it; to further mask your intentions, you lock your eyes on her ass. She seems to sense your gaze, for she hesitates briefly in front of the library and looks back at you. Then she proceeds up the main staircase.<br/>
<br/>
You hurry into the library, giving your twin the signal to be prepared, and take the cyclops-monkey down from its niche. You are loathe to touch it, for it grins malignantly at you, and you have to keep its face turned toward you chest to shield it from Lucy's view when she returns; you have a sudden vision of it lunging at you and gouging you heart out with its powerful jaws. In fact, you are soon trembling and wishing Lucy would get downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
She pauses again before the library doors when she does so and looks in at you. "You gotta minute," you ask her, trying to suppress the quaver in your voice. The statue is beginning to feel slick in your hands, and you shift to hide it further from her gaze. "You know anything about the guardian of the house?" She shrugs and says nothing. "I gotta problem with it. Maybe you can help me with it?" <br/>
<br/>
She steps through the doors; you turn to flash the face of the guardian's statue at her. She gasps, and Prescott slips up behind her and presses the mind strip to her forehead. She goes woozy and starts to fall; you set the statue down on a desk—it nearly leaps from your hands—and help him steady her. You look up, and see that the strip, instead of disappearing into her head, is stuck there and has begun to glow with a hot-looking flame.<br/>
<br/>
You set her in a chair and watch; her eyes are crossing and uncrossing, and her breathing is become unsteady; she gulps for air. The band is showing no signs of vanishing. You and Prescott exchange worried glances, and on a quick hunch you rip the band from her forehead. She slumps, but her breathing becomes more regular.<br/>
<br/>
You hiss at Prescott to hide, and he runs upstairs. You pat Lucy's cheeks; she hasn't passed out, but she seems very dazed. Eventually, she gathers herself.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She nods weakly, and points at the statue. "You shouldn't play with that thing," she says. "It's the most dangerous thing in the house, and if you play with it you'll regret it." You follow her gaze: The cyclops-monkey seems to be leaning forwardly eagerly, and for an instant you have the distinct impression it is about to fly off the pedestal at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I shouldn't have shocked you like I did," you mumble. "Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
"It's alright," she says. She takes a deep breath and brushes her hair behind her ear. "Just ... be careful. Blackwell isn't here to save your ass if you do anything stupid."<br/>
<br/>
She seems fully recovered by the time she reaches the door, but you still watch her thoughtfully as she walks to the front gate.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Pretty fucking weird," Prescott says. "I didn't know you could be immune to these things."<br/>
<br/>
"Unless I fucked it up making it." You examine the band closely. It seems to be in the right shape, but there are no clear letters floating above the runes like there should be. Instead, there is fuzz and a lot of twisted shapes that really aren't any fun to look at."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he put some protection on her, to stop us from doing something like this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Could be. Could be something about Lucy." You tug your lip. "I wonder what would happen if you put a mind strip on a disguised golem."<br/>
<br/>
"We're not going to find out, are we?" Prescott says in horror.<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to try," you reply. "C'mere."<br/>
<br/>
It sits down on the bed with a groan. You don't like wasting mind strips, but there's a mystery that needs solving. You slap a new, blank mind-strip onto Prescott's forehead. He blinks and does nothing; the strip falls into its lap. "That was lucky," he grins.<br/>
<br/>
You scratch the back of your head. "Well, then I'm stuck."<br/>
<br/>
"No you're not," he retorts. "You just don't believe in turnaround being fair play. You sit down."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace; yes, it's the obvious next test, for golems aren't the only thing that can hide under masks. But you stop him with a hand. "Hang on, Jared hasn't got a mindstrip in this mask. Our visitor, if she's a fake, does. I'm going to have to put on Mrs. Cooper.<br/>
<br/>
That's less of a chore than you might fear; Chelsea's mom has barely hit middle age and keeps in great shape. Still, you're not eager to see what she looks like under her clothes, so you keep dressed as Jared and just swap out masks. Unfortunately, she is so much smaller that your cotton shorts fall to the ground. Prescott laughs and bites the knuckle of his index finger as he ogles your new pussy. "God, I hope Chelsea takes after her mom!"<br/>
<br/>
"Eyes up, pervert, and no funny stuff while I'm passed out."<br/>
<br/>
Except you don't pass out, not fully. You just get very weak, and your vision and concentration go in and out of focus in a way that makes you want to vomit. You feel yourself falling back on the bed. You try calling out, but nothing happens.<br/>
<br/>
And then the feeling fades. You look up to see your twin looking over you with a concerned look on his face. "Wha' happened?" you ask in a muzzy voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Just like Lucy," he says grimly. He shows you the mind band he used on you: the same fuzz, the same brain-bending non-letters. "I think that settles it," he says. "She's a fake."<br/>
<br/>
"But who's under her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ten to one it's Blackwell," he says. "You didn't want to see it before because it's totally squicky."<br/>
<br/>
"Or a spy. Another magician?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not bloody like," Prescott snorts. "What do we do?"</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212221122
author_id: seuzz
title: Building your dream girl
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You'll say this for Meghan Farris: she can certainly draw a crowd to her house, which is either going to make things very easy or very difficult. It is easier to hide strange goings-on when there are too many people to keep track of, but it is also easier to be spotted. You're going to try to get this done before the crowd thins to that dangerous point where shenanigans become easy to see. And that could happen quickly at a party that features dance music that's five years out of date, diet sodas, and pizza rolls. <br/>
<br/>
You find Cindy with Seth, naturally, though they're not paying a lot of attention to each other. Seth is reliving the latest game with a couple of teammates and admirers; Cindy has a vexed look on her face as she scans the crowd. You sidle up close and speak in ear: "I need to talk to you. In private."<br/>
<br/>
She is surprisingly quick to accede, giving Seth a quick peck and following you off. You lead her upstairs to the master bedroom, which you've already scoped out as being empty, and from there into the private bath. "Kind of a weird vibe tonight, huh?" she says as you close the door.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." You bend over and take a mindstrip from your purse. "Did you know that Chelsea, or maybe it was Kendra, was listening in on Chelsea's cell phone in the locker yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
She gasps. "No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm hmm. I'll tell you something else." You gesture her closer, and smoothly reach up to set the mind band on her forehead. She sags, and you barely keep her from cracking her head on the edge of the bath tub.<br/>
<br/>
While she is passed out you text Gloria Rea, asking if you can talk to her in private. Gloria isn't quick to respond, and the mind strip is off Cindy and the mask is on her before you get a reply. You text her to come up to the master bedroom when she has a chance.<br/>
<br/>
You chafe Cindy back to consciousness after you've got the mask and mind strip returned to your purse. "Omigod, Cindy, what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," she says uncertainly. "You said something about ... Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that she was listening in on us in the locker room yesterday. Her phone was open."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy, still weak, faints again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You send Cindy tottering out with the admonition to go find Maria and see what she can find out. Gloria—raven-haired, green-eyed Gloria, with the porcelain skin—watches quizzically. You gesture her over. "Has Chelsea been saying anything about me and Cindy?" you ask her point blank. Gloria isn't one of Chelsea's confidantes, but she is one of her allies that she can twist into using for her own ends.<br/>
<br/>
Gloria stiffens and looks away. "Well, she's always talking about the team."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, is she talking about me and Cindy and Seth?"<br/>
<br/>
That gets her attention. A hungry look comes into her eye, so she eagerly follows as you into the bathroom, and even leans down next to you as you bend over your purse. It's ridiculously easy to get the mask over her face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And so the night proceeds as you gather a large collection of beautiful faces and forms into the unsealed mask: Yumi, Cindy, Gloria, Maria Vasquez, Michelle Estrich, Eva Garner. You try to get Chelsea, but she deftly avoids your company. <br/>
<br/>
That's too bad, because you were saving a mind band for her. But you fill the four blank bands you brought with you with useful knowledge banks: Cindy, for learning about Lucy; Maria, for learning about Chelsea; Kim Walsh (the student president) for learning about all the official goings-on at school; and Charles Hartlein (the drama club president) for learning about all the unofficial, dirty goings-on.<br/>
<br/>
At the same time, you and Cindy have done a nice job of spreading unsettling rumors that won't be especially damaging to Chelsea, but have the advantage of being both plausible and true. The kernel is the story about the cell phone being open and used as a crappy spy device. Charles especially loves it, and with him you concoct extravagant speculative fantasies about what other unscrupulous and amateurish efforts she's using to gather intelligence on people. You quickly realize that no one will much care about the fact that she has been caught spying; they'll be struck by the clumsiness of her effort, because it makes her look foolish as well as shifty. You're getting icy stares from her close allies, like Kendra, before the night is done.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You're so pretty, Sara," you say, giving your cousin an appraising once over. Neither she nor Dana, her older sister, are as pretty as Umeko, but it would be out of character—as well as just plain bizarre—for Yumi to add that thought to the utterance.<br/>
<br/>
Sara blushes a little. "Athletic, too," you add. "Are you going to try out for the Eastman cheerleading squad next year?" Sara looks really embarrassed and squirms. Dana suppresses a smile. "I could give you some pointers."<br/>
<br/>
"I think we've heard so many of your horror stories that she really wants to stay away from anything like that," Dana says.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got the impression that the Eastman squad is pretty nice and friendly," you say. "Isn't Alyssa, like, pretty decent?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," Dana shrugs. Alyssa Randal is the captain of the Eastman squad. "I don't really know her that well."<br/>
<br/>
"Who do you know?"<br/>
<br/>
Dana rattles off a few names. Sara adds a few more. That breaks the ice, and the two are soon sharing confidences about who they know and what they are like. You also get the impression that Dana knows them better and watches them more closely than she would like to admit.<br/>
<br/>
The mask needs a mind band before you can seal it and turn it into a brand-new girl: one who combines and melds the features of some the sexiest girls at Westside. You're not sure what she will look like—the face in the mask is hard to make out in its ghostly side—but you're fairly confident that she'll look good next to the others on the Westside cheerleader squad. But for a mind: you want it to mimic someone from another school, though one that knows all the cheerleader tricks and routines. That argues for collecting a brain from Eastman.<br/>
<br/>
You're very thoughtful after you leave Dana and Sara's house late Sunday afternoon. There are two good candidates embodying very different qualities. Alyssa Randal has the qualities of a leader, and she is at the center of social life at Eastman. The other is Jessica Pearce, who is a bombshell that would look good inside the mask as well. She isn't very popular, though, on account of having a reputation as being a bit of a schemer. But that would make her fit right in at Westside.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122211221
author_id: nirxor
title: Pick Alyssa
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You had first hand expirence with the inner workings of Westside, it's a hell hole filled with snakes, and with a very particular queen running it all. <br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea Cooper....."<br/>
<br/>
 You quitely whisper under your breath. You sit alone gazing at the options before you, it's not hard to see what you need to make Westside a better place, they need a leader. Somebody who can listen and have the fortitude to endure all of Chelsea's schemes, yet clever enough to not fall prey to them, or even better, expose them.  It's no contest, deep down you know who the better choice is, Alyssa is hero your old school needs.  You quickly check your phone. Carefully placing the bands and polishing a mask, taking some body like her might not be the ideal scenario, but having another piece to play with will never be unappreciated, or rather she could be your back up, to keep Eastman clean, or another body to enjoy. It's almost hard to block Megan's thoughts sometimes, she's so subtle, yet able to draw people into her confidant, something you can see yourself needing. As the clock strikes midnight, you look at the mask and mind band prepared for tomorrow, the mask of the woman you will be and the life your about lead. Megan is excited to place Alyssa under her thumbs, being able to have her way with her, with nothing she can do about it, but Will is looking forward to being the herione, like how he played his games as a sexy and powerful woman. A secret fantasy almost, but here he was about live it. As you laid in bed, Megan began to show you more about womanhood and it's charms, soon your tired, relived, and mentally ready for tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
*****************************************************<br/>
<br/>
<i>"A little bit of Alyssa goes a long way......"</i><br/>
<br/>
Your new mind formulates through the confusion of who is operating the body, the unique unity of the girls fusing through magic yeilded an amazing polymerization, or well so you thought. Gloria, Maria, Yumi, and, Alyssa are the noticable parts, the height advantage you gained from somewhere is confusing, but more importantly, your mind is blazing with an overwhelming amount of information. It like a typhoon of memories and personalities clashing against one another, or acting out a really bad opera, either way, you push the roaring winds of voices to the back of your head, your new body is worth the examination. Your taller, at least Catherine Muskov tall, maybe a bit shorter than her, but still on the slender spectrum, or maybe you have enough meat in the right places. You have the athletic body to compete with her too, but your legs, are something else entirely. Smooth, defined, and just enough bounce to notice in your thighs to be considered thick, something Will liked seeing, the body gets better when you look into the mirror to see your buttocks. Perfectly rounded, plush, tight, and, all yours, the girls definitely made you happy to have them in your body, even better to keep them there, as you give your ass a loving slap, the sting, makes you blush, strongly blush, you're not sure who, but somebody likes it, somebody who is going to love being in here with you. Even her core doesn't dissapoint, a smooth surface again, but a set of abs, tempered and trained. Your hands run them up and down, like A musical instrument, you can't keep them off, especially since Will is running things, or 'inspecting' his new body's assests to his nobel cause. Her chest is amazing, the picture esq representative form of Cindy, yet they are perky, firm, and, very fun to touch, even your body like them. They are not huge jugs, but not modest either, maybe a B cup, or a small D, something that makes you proud of them oddly compelled you to give yourself a small shake of them in the mirror, it's then your eyes meet your reflection, the new girl who you will live on as. She is the definition of face model, a smile so perfect it's unnatural, eyes so big and sleepy, they enchant your mind, she has a calm, yet cool demeanor, studious, but maybe glasses would really make her shine. The freckles running up and down her body, across her face, barely touch the most delicate parts, making her truely a sight to behold completely naked.  The skin is dark, a natrual mix considering who is in this mixture. She is tanned to a deeper shade of the earth, but it makes your body look tanned, the natural tan of yours only  goes to your breasts and stomach, apparently your ass gets a natural tan too. Her hair is to her lower back, it's a dark deep brown. She has high cheek bones, with a cute nose, they eye color of sapphire on her right and emerald on the left, you have made a fucking goddess. The voices, once a rambling pool of arguments and nonsensical gibberish, are calmed by this, they are lost in her like you, like William. No, maybe that's the wrong way to look at it. Maybe you're waiting, she is waiting, she is needing a name something, this something is beckoned by the minds finally, coming in together. Kim, Maria, Cindy, Charles, and, Alyssa begin to melt, with the  final ingredient, the soul of it all William stiring. In a single breath, the open up to you, the personality of this new being, her memories, her love, her tears, and, you accept her. Passing out in the basement, in a deep sleep, you see the memories of all the people you out into the bands, Kim's studious attitude and her honest personality to help others, even her desires for a boyfriend, somebody to hold her at night, like in a sappy romance, her desire to improve herself, to make her life better.<br/>
<br/>
Maria, the astronaut, or space cadet as Chelsea's group calls her. What you had assumed was just a pretty face, was nothing but a lie, a well crafted one. She was the top student in the entire school. Maria wasn't dumb, no, she was observant, she knew everyone and everything, she even knew all about Chelsea's little plans, but she kept next to her for good reason. Less guys to hit on her, and more time to study. She could use big words, made the people around her uneasy, so she kept the facade of a ditz party girl, nobody even knew she never drank alcohol, always water, always acting. It seems you had thought to catch a mouse, instead you caught a fucking beast, or the real mind behind Westside, either way Maria is happy to be out of the shadows of Chelsea and stretch her wings. <br/>
<br/>
Cindy, always happy to ruin Chelsea's day, she was competing for head cheerleader every chance she got, the plots, the lies, the deception, webs upon webs. Anything to be better than her, to show who really holds the school in their hands. Cindy liked going against Chelsea in any form, but like this? Cindy loved the new body, the power, the looks, the way Will has it all planned out. If she had know him to be such a schemer, she would have definitely helped him out. This new life would make it all possible, and even sweeter to know that William fucking Prescott became top bitch of the high school. She loves this idea. <br/>
<br/>
Charles, is a rather interesting blend, he's excited to be woman, happy really. The countless guys he can finally sleep with, the hair styles he can do, the being a bitch free card! All of it was what he wanted! He didn't mind that Will was in on the ride, but he wanted his to get this ass slapped more, never had it happen as a guy, but now? He'll have to start a business, this thing has a mind of its own. The gossip! What he really wants, his secret pleasure, he knows exactly how to poke and prod the people, after all, Charles was an actor! He couldn't Dissapoint the boys and girls of his school, especially the boys. He wanted to be the top bitch in school, since he had a thing for Gordon, maybe he would like a new girlfriend? <br/>
<br/>
Finally Alyssa, the lady you needed to complete it all. She was slow at observing you, she was looking into your life as Will, along with everyone here. The ways Chelsea broke them, how she terrorized them, the way Chelsea seemed hellbent on ruling with an iron first. It was wrong, Alyssa had heard and expirenced it first hand, but she didn't retreat, she didn't fall for her tricks. No need to, Chelsea couldn't harm her, all that brain, yet no confidence to back it up. What is really eating her?  She asks, as takes stock of who is sharing their mind with you. Alyssa just smiles, something like a ray of sunshine to all of you. She wants to help, like Kim she wants to make school enjoyable, Alyssa even outed bullies at Eastman, something she will do at Westside with great pleasure, even more shocking to Will, she is full of secrets, like how her favorite movie is an anime movie, or how she is a nerd, Alyssa never tells anyone anything, mostly because they are afraid to ask her about herself. She like to play with legos and help her dad fix his old cars. Alyssa, for what it is worth, is the center of your new life, and she wants to be, the protector of your new life.<br/>
<br/>
The dream ends with you taking a slow methodical approach to your morning, the cheap phone, the sports clothes that are too tight, all of the new sensations, within and without, leading you into the new life of this challenger to Chelsea's tyranny. With a smile you walk down the street to a location to meet with some very important people about how to live. But you stop, the voices are back they want a name, something symbolic, powerful, something that marks the start of it all and it hits you<br/>
<br/>
"Dawn"<br/>
<br/>
The sun rises, as it does you can see how you will live now, more importantly, who will be living now. <br/>
<br/>
"Aurora Whitney Phoenix."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122211222
author_id: nirxor
title: Pick Jessica
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You had first hand expirence with the inner workings of Westside, it's a hell hole filled with snakes, and with a very particular queen running it all. <br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea Cooper....."<br/>
<br/>
 You quitely whisper under your breath. You sit alone gazing at the options before you, it's not hard to see what you need to make Westside a better place, they need a leader. Somebody who can listen and have the fortitude to endure all of Chelsea's schemes, yet clever enough to not fall prey to them, or even better, expose them.  It's no contest, deep down you know who the better choice is, Alyssa is hero your old school needs. Unfortunately, she isn't equipped for the snake's den, she's too nice, too much of the protector. You're going to need a monster to fight a monster, luckily, Jessica Pearce is enough of that already. The proper bait is casted, and in less than an hour Jessica trapped under her own face. It's ironic that you're about to become the very thing you tried to escape, however someone once said <br/>
<br/>
"Fight fire with fire."<br/>
<br/>
It's almost a bad idea, to become your worst enemy to beat her at her own game, you're going to need every advantage possible in this mask. The idea of adding a little more to your arsenal of the mask, it's hard not too consider it, anybody to make trouble for Chelsea, thank fully for you, Yumi has a two friends who would make great additions to the mask.<br/>
<br/>
*****************************************************<br/>
<br/>
"I can't believe she just...... UUUUHHGGG!!!! That bitch! How the fuck can she even be like that! Just because she "might have" heard something!" Lin roared, kicking the side of bed. You had swapped with the golem Yumi, or kept her hidden to grab the two bands and extra additions for the mask.  The meeting of the three girls was spured by a group text message about Chelsea needing us to cut some members out, wanting us to choose who we get rid of. "She isn't even trying to hide it this shit." She said sitting down, since her rage was ending, leaving just a smoldering hate for her.<br/>
<br/>
"So you have to cut Cindy? Or is she playing with the team again?" Jenny cuts in, just as angry, since Chelsea had sent Yumi a special message to incite hate on Yumi for talking to Seth last night. The people who knew what was going on defended her, but her little puppets made it hell to get anything straight. A real pain in the ass for you and Yumi, seeing as how the playing field is getting leveled into Chelsea's favor, Jessica is just sounding better and better. <br/>
<br/>
"Am not sure if Cindy was drinking a lot, or was sick, but Seth sat next to her all night long." You answer to them. "Besides, I can do better than Seth." Yumi counters, causing Jenny to laugh, entirely ending the trash talking of Chelsea's latest plans. <br/>
<br/>
"All right Yumi, who in Westside is worth dating? Cause if their hot, then they're an asshole, if they're funny, then they're immature, and if they're nice to you, they're desperate. Choose carefully!" Lin calls out smiling with a catty grin. <br/>
<br/>
"Laurent seems like a good pick, maybe Fairfax if he wasn't a robot." You say, smiling at her, Lin keeps her smile, turning to Jenny, who just giggles. <br/>
<br/>
"What?" You ask, genuinely curious now.<br/>
<br/>
"Laurent took me out last night." Jenny confesses. The room goes up in excitement, the girl's curiosity spiking, which leads to Lin going to your kitchen to help bring out some refreshments and Jenny want to talk in private, the perfect time to strike with your perfect twin. It's just as easy as last night, except with your combined polishing of Will, Yumi, and, yourself, you have three people to help you re-enter Westside.<br/>
<br/>
*****************************************************<br/>
<br/>
"Stunning, <i> absolutely stunning</i>......."<br/>
<br/>
The new you muses, the sound of pure enjoyment, relishing the new woman standing before you. You had to really plan ahead on Jessica, she's quite the schemer herself, already planning to throw Yumi into the hell of social isolation, something Will understood well, and knew how to avoid. The nightmare of being a free target, not something Yumi would be great at dealing with. She wasn't the model Chelsea is, but Jessica's bombshell body  just makes this body a lot sweeter. It's almost too good to give up, or rather, you can't, whoever you are now, they are brutally addictive.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"It's so good to know that there are people so envious of me, that they want be me! such a nice confidence booster! Makes being me worth it! Too bad Will didn't speak to me about all this magic stuff, I would have so been into it! After all, who better than my enemies to ruin themselves?"</i><br/>
<br/>
Your mind thinks, without an ounce of restraint, Jessica knows guys love her shapely body, the baby fat sat just right on her, but the fusion of the top picks in your school? You created something men would drool over, fight over, beg to see in person. Perfection in every way.<br/>
<br/>
"Finally got rid of that baby fat, nice and slim. Toned, still got that shape of Lin on top of Jessica, with Gloria and Maria to grant me some sweet looks ." You mutter to your new body, the look of Maria's sleepy eyes with Yumi's loving smile, on the face Michelle, something that actually makes her much better than the original. That steady glare of Lin's, with the happy bubbly laugh of Jenny. The hint of Cindy's eyes being a major player of your face, it's perfection, no blemishes at all. Gloria is always considered near beautiful to Chelsea, but now, her face is beyond simply calling it "beautiful". Looking downward, you hold your breasts by crossing your arms, to your amazement, you can't even properly see your lower half. <br/>
<br/>
"Fucking perfect! I can't even fit them in my hands! Maybe Laurent could fit them in his hands, or Gordon could! Since he'll be looking my way soon." You coo to your reflection, the woman, who is struggling to handle her own assests, it's almost silly so say but "cow tits" describe you perfectly.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a badge of honor now!" <br/>
<br/>
You say with excitement, as you shake them in the mirror, giving the William inside a very generous reward. Her legs a slender, yet shapely. The ass is almost perfect, a gift from Gloria and Eva your ass is the very definition of tight and round. It matches your thighs now, the thick muscles bursting forth, with the dark completion of Lin busting out, yet it's tonnes down by the other's paler completion, almost a healthier glow is there, but the striking sexyness of Lin and Jessica are present, along with the two being the leading personalities, how they enjoy this body and who they want to enjoy it.  With the other personalities starting to ebb in and out, meshing together, as you play with your body, but its not enough, not by a long shot, your not desperate, but you know who will be here in a heart beat if call, he's not perfect, but he'll do. You can feel their thoughts becoming one, combining and shifting through the contents, it's a tsunami of emotions and memories, too much for you now, you can't even tell who is in control, you grab your phone and send a text to your golem <br/>
<br/>
<b> Blackwell's now</b><br/>
<br/>
Is all that's said, it all you could type, the storm of voices, expirences, and, who you are are screaming for clarification, you just hold out by pleasure. Will barely has any time to ask what's happening before you mount him, dominate him, mark him with nails, and, send him over the edge, soon you're not sure who you are, but all of the voice inside know that they want this. <br/>
<br/>
*****************************************************<br/>
<br/>
You can't even move, neither can Will, he's been remade into your perfect fuck toy, the first hand knowledge of Lin and Jessica made you able to order him into perfect motions, Charles showed eager affection for it expirmentations, Jenny was the passionate lover, unable to stop. The mental transformation was perfection, you couldn't even believe that deep down inside, you're William, the same gasping for air William. The loser who got lucky, for tonight anyways. As your mind dives, you begin to see who is what part of you now, where they go in your head and how they interact. With the voices now one, you stand up, gazing out the window into the setting sun, it's captivating. The end of your life as William Prescott and the transformation into this life, but who are you? You know what you are, but you need a name. As your mind goes in and out of choices, the atmosphere, the dusk, and change from day to night are almost perfect, too perfect, then it hits you. The name of old in Blackwell's library, the name translates to dusk.<br/>
<br/>
"Keira...... Am Keira Rachel Blackwell......" <br/>
<br/>
A sinister smile creeps across your face, like that of Blackwell, but prettier. You go back to your bed, kissing the golem as he lays there.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, tell your friends that there's a new girl in town. You'll show me around tonight at Carlos' doughnut place. Then take me to your house the next day." You say sweetly to him, he just nods, barely able to speak.<br/>
<br/>
"Do it for me okay? I'll let you have fun like this again if you do good!" You coo into his ear, as he grabs your waist again and starts again until you pass out. </span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122212
author_id: seuzz
title: Set a spy on Lucy.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><br/>
Later that afternoon, at Blackwell's, you decide that there is more to be gained by not switching with Cindy. You are trying to find a way to lift the curse that is destroying Will Prescott's social life, but a serendipitous coincidence involving the lesson of the day shows you that it wouldn't be that hard to put a spy onto Lucy. Doing that would also free you to continue aiming toward switching with an alpha player while also breaking the curse. <br/>
<br/>
"I want to go to school as myself tomorrow," you tell Blackwell that evening. <br/>
<br/>
He looks at you in surprise. "Your girl is very fetching. Don't tell me the excitement has palled."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm just missing my old friends and want a day with them. And didn't you say it was a good idea not to get lost inside a mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but you're only spending a few hours a day inside the lovely Ms. Saito. Still, you know your business. I suppose that means you'll be wanting to borrow my spare golem, or is Ms. Saito going to skip school?"<br/>
<br/>
You snicker. "It's funny to ask, isn't it? Like asking dad to borrow the car."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And so the next morning Yumi doesn't stop by the house on the way school; Will Prescott does. You remove your twin's mask long enough to absorb many memories from the past few days—it is appalling to see how unpopular you have become; people even hiss at you in the hallways—and then you pop it back onto the sleeping Yumi. At Blackwell's request, you order your restored doppelganger to work on polishing up masks. He groans, but complies.<br/>
<br/>
The day is hard and unpleasant. People glare at you, pull away from you, bark at you when you pass. Not all of them, you are sure, came in contact with the contaminated bills; many are just taking their cues from the vehement ones. And not everyone is mean to you. Kim Walsh is a little pale when you come near, but she is friendly and asks how you are holding up; she commiserates with you and assures you that you'll get through it, whatever it is. Cassie Harper treats you no different than she did before, chattering at you in Mr. Kowalski's math class and insisting on sitting with you at lunch. You'd like to think that her presence is why Caleb and Keith swerve and disappear when they see you seated in the usual spot, but you're sure it's not. You can't let them get away, so you run after them. Luck would seem to be against you when, in reaction to your shouts, they split up and hurry in different directions. But that actually plays to your advantage.<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, Caleb! Wait, dude!" You sprint after and leap onto his back playfully. He quickly tosses you off and looks at you with distaste. You ignore him. "Check out this tattoo!" You roll up the sleeve on your left arm, exposing your skinny bicep and the intricate design on it. It took you almost two hours last night, using special ink and a small mirror, to trace it on.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's great," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"You're not even looking at it. Okay, it's not really a tattoo. It's a design for one. My brother helped me put it on, 'cos I can't reach all the way. See, it's a friendship ring. You put the names of your friends inside."<br/>
<br/>
"That's clever. Um, you haven't got any friends."<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "Oh, you mean there aren't any names inside it yet! Yeah, because that's for the friends to write in. So it's their handwriting. I'll have the tattoo artist trace over them." You grin. "So, whaddaya say? I want you to be the first."<br/>
<br/>
He looks pained. "Dude, this is kind of—"<br/>
<br/>
"Please!"<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't this seem kind of, well, gay to you?"<br/>
<br/>
You groan. "We've been friends forever. Come on!"<br/>
<br/>
"It just seems—"<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb. Buddy. It would mean a lot to me." He gives a deep sigh and nods. "Excellent! Here, the tattoo guy said you should use this pen!" You hand him one of Blackwell's specials.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb scrawls his name inside the ring, not being very careful about it. When he finishes he blinks and cocks his head. He shakes himself.<br/>
<br/>
"So, Cassie's waiting for me back there. Finish lunch with us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sounds fun," he smiles, and he seems to mean it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The counterspell isn't hard, it's just tricky to pull off. You have a special kind of guardian floating about you, and its presence disturbs those who have touched Blackwell's poisoned banknotes. The counter-sigil makes it invisible again to those who sign within the circle. But since the sigil has to be upon your body, it's tough to get anyone to get right with you. Luckily, Caleb, all unwittingly, is able to talk Keith and a few more acquaintances (including Lisa) into signing it too. The atmosphere for you lightens appreciably as the day progresses.<br/>
<br/>
Even the Yumi-golem seems to warm to you. In sixth period she finds you at your locker. "Did you break your arm or something? I hear people are signing you."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm a work of art," you grin. You flex the bicep and she studies it carefully as you explain the tattoo idea. She is silent for a moment afterward and asks if she can add her name. You agree but let her provide her own pen; a golem's signature means nothing in a spell. "That's very clever," she says thoughtfully as she signs. "You're very clever, Will."<br/>
<br/>
That completes the curse bit; you can even wash the ink off now if you want. But you concentrate instead on your other plan: putting a guardian on Lucy. Fortunately, you know what you want and need and are able to cheaply score two light, silver bracelets and a small pewter sculpture of a bird. You then stop at a Starbucks to make the guardian you've designed. Carefully you trace the earth-guardian sigil around the base of the statue on a sheet of paper, inscribe it with the wanted conditions, and then arrange one of the bracelets over it. You press another sheet of paper over the bracelet, sketch an "inscribe" sigil, and the trick is done. Both sheets of paper are now blank, and the guardian sigil has been inscribed onto the bracelet. Anyone who wears it will have a harmless invisible bird floating overhead, observing their every move. You test it by slipping it onto your own wrist and grasping the sculpture while closing your eyes. You mutter a few words, and instantly you are watching yourself from a position high in the corner of the room, and are able to dart and wheel around to see yourself from any position. The same will be true of Lucy when she is wearing it.<br/>
<br/>
The next day, at school, you catch Cindy at her locker and hand her two small boxes. "This one is for you," you tell her, "and this one is for Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
She gives a little gasp of delight when she opens her box. "It's lovely, Yumi! What's the occasion?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just a little, I guess, friendship bracelet. Emotions on the squad can get really out of control, you know, and I wanted you to remember that you do have friends and not just teammates."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you are so sweet," Cindy says, and gives you a big hug.<br/>
<br/>
"I got the other one for Lucy because she was kind of a big sister to me when she was a senior." You sniffle a little.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny Ashton, who has been watching nearby, rolls her eyes when you're done. "So how come you never give me things like that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I know you're not a snake that needs to be fed," you mutter in her ear.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have the house to yourself that afternoon, evening, night, and afterward. Blackwell told you that morning that he had been called out of town on a sudden appointment and wouldn't be back until Monday. He gave you detailed instructions on the Guardian, with the observation that you should be an expert by now. You assume he's referring to the studies you made over the past few days, but it sounds like it has an ulterior meaning.<br/>
<br/>
At any rate, you're feeling good that night as you chow down on Chinese takeout and decide to do a little spying on Lucy. It's Friday night, and she should be having fun at a club or something. You smile and feel a stirring in your shorts as you grasp the sculpture, close your eyes, and concentrate. You hope she hasn't left the bracelet in the box, though you picked out very nice bracelets so she wouldn't.<br/>
<br/>
The scene unfolds in a diner. You frown. There's Cindy, but where's Lucy? She's sitting with Seth Javits, her boyfriend. This is odd. Did Cindy get the bracelets mixed up? You swoop in for a closer look and—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Seth is wearing the bracelet! His cunt-faced girlfriend took the bracelet for Lucy and repurposed it as a romantic gift for him!</i><br/>
<br/>
Well, you can fix that, and fix her into the bargain. You'll switch with her at the party tomorrow night, make a horrific scene, break up with Seth, snatch the bracelet from him and give it to Lucy ... lovely revenge.<br/>
<br/>
No, wait. You'll switch with Seth, give the bracelet to Lucy, which will cause a horrific breakup, all while giving you a body that's an easy hop into one of the true alphas.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222121
author_id: seuzz
title: Switch with Cindy.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Sometimes I really wish I knew who designed some of these things," Cindy says. The look of distaste on her face as she pushes the clothes along the rack is almost painful to behold. "And then I think, Why would I want to know such a weird pervert?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think this one might look good on you." You hold up one dress—black and tan, long and severe—against her frame. <br/>
<br/>
Her expression, unbelievably, grows even more pained. "You're really good at picking out clothes for yourself, Yumi, but I'm not sure it translates to me." She pulls her frosted blonde hair back. <br/>
<br/>
You wonder if "translate" was a veiled reference to your—Yumi's—ethnicity. Either Cindy is better than Chelsea at making her cutting remarks subtle, or she is more clueless about double meanings. <br/>
<br/>
She lets out a huge sigh. "I always love parties because they give me a chance to buy new clothes. But then I actually go shopping, and ..." She bites her lip.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want to go to another store? I only picked this one because of the sale."<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "All the really good places are out of my budget. Stupid recession."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, even window shopping isn't a bad way to spend a Saturday."<br/>
<br/>
You expect her to argue, but look up to see her staring at the front of the store with a stricken look on her face. You follow her gaze: <i>Finally. He must have got caught in traffic.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, he's coming over here," Cindy whispers.<br/>
<br/>
"Go hide in the dressing stalls until I get rid of him," you whisper back. "Here, take this, make it look like you're not running away." You shove a dress at her as she flees.<br/>
<br/>
"Hello, er, Yumi," Will Prescott says coolly. "I was going to say 'Hello, ladies,' but suddenly you were alone."<br/>
<br/>
You put your hand on your hip and give him a tired look. "What do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"The pleasure of your company?" But his eye is following Cindy, and he even drifts to the side to follow her journey.<br/>
<br/>
"If you can't be human, can you at least be polite and look at me instead of my friend's ass?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. Sure. Anyway, your friend's ass has now disappeared behind stall number ten, I think it says on the door."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Get in stall nine. Shave and a haircut's the password." He brushes past you and you pull out the dress you'd picked out earlier: big, floppy, easy to get into and out of. That in hand, you follow at a discreet distance behind.<br/>
<br/>
You knock at the door to stall 10 and rummage in your purse. "He's gone," you murmur, and knock again. "Cindy?" There's a rustle and a sigh and the door opens. She steps out, smack into the new blank mask. She falls back onto the bench, and you swiftly move in behind her, shutting the door.<br/>
<br/>
She must have gotten bored real fast, because luckily she had started getting undressed. It's the work of only a minute to finish pulling her sweater and undergarments off her. You pull off your own loose-fitting clothes as well and then pull on the long, sack-like dress you'd taken from the rack. Thus covered, you slip over to stall 9: <i>Shave and a haircut,</i> you rap. <i>Two bits,</i> comes the countersign. You open the stall door, to find the completely naked Will Prescott grinning and fondling a boner. <br/>
<br/>
"You freaking pervert," you snap, and he laughs. You drop Yumi's old clothes and her purse to the floor next to him, scoop up his clothes, and twitch his mask away. Yumi reappears, sound asleep. Very quietly, you sneak out and back into stall 10.<br/>
<br/>
The mask has not reappeared on Cindy's face yet, so you organize the clothes a bit before pulling the Yumi mask off your face and putting it into Cindy's purse. When her mask does reappear, you drop the Will mask onto her face. <br/>
<br/>
Prescott reappears almost instantly, still with a boner. He blinks. "Did we switch?" he asks, but you hush him and motion him to quietly get dressed. When he's done he slips out, leaving you alone with Cindy's clothes and her mask. You sit down and put it on.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
An hour later: "Hey, sweetums," you coo, and raise yourself on tiptoes so Seth can give you a wet smack on the lips. "Thanks for meeting me here. Hey guys," you add in a noticeably cooler tone to Jeremy Richards and Jason Lynch. They're not happy to see you either, by the looks of it.<br/>
<br/>
Jason's greeting is insolent in both tone and words: "You must give really great blowjobs if Seth's willing to come to a place like this and eat rabbit food with you."<br/>
<br/>
Seth stiffens; Jeremy pales; you gasp. There's a moment of frozen suspense.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you must give awesome blowjobs all the way around, Jason," you retort, "if anyone is willing to be seen in public with you."<br/>
<br/>
Lynch snickers. "Yo, Javits, your girlfriend just called you a faggot."<br/>
<br/>
Seth reaches down and squeezed your hand. "Hey, honey ..." he starts to say, but can't think of anything to follow it up with.<br/>
<br/>
You—that is to say, Cindy Vredenburg—suspect that Jason Lynch is gay. It's not because he hasn't got a girlfriend and seems to have little luck with girls. That can be explained by the fact that he is a psychotic bastard with (if rumor is to be believed) a penis so small that it must reflect a medical condition. No, you suspect he is gay because he is almost fanatically attached to Steve Patterson and Gordon Black despite the way they heap abuse on him; and because he has an ability to read and sadistically manipulate a social situation that even Chelsea Cooper would have a hard time matching. <br/>
<br/>
Right now, for instance, it is clear that he is insulting you so as to put Seth in a horrible dilemma—fight for your honor (such as it is) and cause a blow-up that will put him athwart Jason, Steve and Gordon—or infuriate you by backing down. And even if you let him back down, he will be utterly humiliated and thus kept well under Lynch's thumb.<br/>
<br/>
It's a no-win situation, so all through the meal you sit in stony silence and pick at your salad while they eat their sandwiches. Jason dominates the conversation; Richards plays along in muted tones; Seth hardly says anything. Lynch acts as if nothing is amiss when the party breaks up—because, of course, from his point of view it has gone off perfectly.<br/>
<br/>
Seth has to give you a ride home—Yumi provided the ride up to the mall—and the trip back is also silent. Several times Seth starts to speak, but always cuts himself off. At your house you ask him in a cool tone to come inside. He looks a little ghastly, but complies.<br/>
<br/>
Up in your bedroom you open your walk-in closet, drop the spare bedspread onto the floor, and ask him to sit down. His face is a peculiar color by now, because this is the last thing he was expecting. You straddle his lap and talk in a very small voice without looking him in the eye.<br/>
<br/>
"I want you to fuck me, Seth." With minute movements you unbutton the front of his shirt. "I want you to fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me slow. Make me hurt." He is frozen as you pull the tail of his shirt from of his pants and unbutton the latter. His cock isn't much swollen—he is too freaked out—as you pull it from his briefs to flop onto his leg. "Fuck me until I cry." The tears spring from you eyes. "And then I want you to go back to your friends and brag about what a whore I am and how I ask you to fuck me even though I know you don't even like me!" You break into uncontrollable sobs. <br/>
<br/>
"Honey, you know I wouldn't do that—" he starts in an anguished voice and puts his hand to your face. You grab him by the wrist and twist the bracelet off. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you wearing this," you sob. "You can fuck me, but I don't want you going around telling anyone that I'm anything but your whore! Because that's all I am to you!"<br/>
<br/>
He puts his arms around you in a tentative embrace. He is sniffling, but you really let it pour out: tears and snot all down his front. You even delicately blow your nose onto him, and push drool out with your tongue to make everything extra gross and impressive. He mumbles inarticulate things that are meant to be comforting while you shudder and gasp and hiccup. After fifteen minutes of this he pulls back and lifts your face and asks if things are okay between you. You nod but still don't meet his eyes. You speak only to tell him to go home.<br/>
<br/>
Once he's gone you drop the bracelet into the jewelry case and go into your private bathroom to clean up. You have to do your makeup from scratch, but that gives you a nice excuse to study and admire and simper over your new face. It's such a pretty one. Much prettier than Chelsea Cooper's. <br/>
<br/>
"Seth was here for quite awhile," your mother observes from the sofa as you pass through on the way to the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
"We had things to discuss," you say in a firm and icy tone. She's always trying to mind your business for you.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy is just a detour on the way to Seth or someone else. That's no reason not to enjoy your time in her at Meghan's party tonight. But you still have things you can do back in Blackwell's library, and you've had lots of drama for one day already.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212221211
author_id: seuzz
title: Go to the party
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You blow out a sigh that lifts your bangs. There wasn't one good dress to be had at any of the stores, which means, <i>dammit</i>, you'll have to wear an old one to Meghan's party. Even if no one else notices, Chelsea will. Better make it one that is worth noticing, then.<br/>
<br/>
After an hour of looking through the possibilities you settle on a retro-mod look: a canary-yellow one-piece dress with black trimmings. At has two nice oval gaps in the front, one exposing your taut stomach from the bottom of your breastbone to just above your navel, and another across the tops of your bosom. You take a nice bath first and spend almost an hour piling your hair up in various ways and styles. You put on hoop earrings (to go with the mod look) along with some bold blush and highlighting. You have a midnight curfew, but with a boyfriend and a look like this, you'll be sure to have a lot of fun within even that ridiculously short amount of time.<br/>
<br/>
The party itself is a blast, with great music and dancing and lots of laughing and corners for making out. You are all over Seth, running your hands all up and down his body and kissing and nuzzling him and rubbing your face in his shirt. He responds, but you can tell there's a tautness to him that shows he hasn't forgotten about the afternoon crisis and doesn't know how to interpret this extreme affection. But on the surface you give him no cause to complain. When Steve Patterson is around, though, you keep one lustful eye turned his way while slobbering over your boyfriend. Patterson has been between girlfriends (though between lots of girls' legs) since the end of junior year, and attracting his attention may be useful for your plans at the start of next week.<br/>
<br/>
The only unpleasant part is having to dance attendance on Chelsea. She keeps asking you about Lucy, and going on and on about how good Lucy was as a squad captain, and asking you about what Lucy would say or do, and asking if you and Lucy will be on the Keyserling squad together. The happier and more enthusiastic you become about your sister, the less happy Chelsea seems to become, until by the end she seems downright irritated. "Where's Yumi?" she finally asks, as though this has anything to do with Lucy. <br/>
<br/>
You shrug. Now that you think about it, you haven't seen Yumi since leaving her abandoned in the changing room—though you did hear her getting dressed and leaving before you did.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's ten o'clock before you start to move the next morning, and Lucy is already out doing stuff. She's back in time for lunch, though. Conversation at the table is brief, courteous, and pleasant enough in the dumb family-time way. Afterward you ask her up to your room, where you give her the bracelet. You can tell she's not really impressed with the gift itself, but she is touched by the gesture.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a just a small thing," you say. "I was talking with Chelsea the other day, and she was talking about what a great squad captain you'd been. And I was agreeing with her, and that got me thinking about what a great big sister you are." You touch your wet eyes with the back of your hand. "And it just came over me all sudden and had to give you something."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a hug and you hold each other for a few minutes—which you enjoy in more than one way—and then part. She stays in her room talking on the phone and doing some kind of school work during the afternoon, and then goes for a long jog. When she's back she gets in the shower. That's when you break out the bird sculpture, prop up on your bed, and concentrate. Unfortunately, she left her bracelet in her room, but you do get a very nice view when she comes back in and gets dressed.<br/>
<br/>
Early in the evening you go downstairs to get some water and notice that her bedroom door is open; when asked, your father says that she had to run up to the university. Your suspicions prickle, and you hurry back upstairs to your spy station. Sure enough, she's wearing the bracelet, and it's like you're in the car with her as she drives. There's not much to see: she hums to herself, and turns on some music, and dances in her seat, and curses a blue streak at all the other drivers. But you notice that the landscape even in the dark looks very familiar: she's driving to Blackwell's. <br/>
<br/>
You watch with eager anticipation as she parks behind the house inside a screen of trees and walks around to the front door. She knocks on the door, and when there is no answer she uses the doorbell to disengage the security system. Interesting that she knows how to do that. She passes into the house and walks along to the library. There should be a low light burning inside, but everything past the doorway is an inky darkness. She steps into and is swallowed by the dark. You try to follow, but something resists.<br/>
<br/>
You are stuck there, helpless to investigate further, for almost fifteen minutes, when she reappears, looking very pleased. She then drives off to the university, but does and says and hears nothing that means anything to you.<br/>
<br/>
Afterward, you sit on the bed and mope. You had suspected that there was more than one guardian at watch in the library: the vampire cyclops-monkey is always on low-level alert in there, but there is at least another that Blackwell has set to prevent exactly the kind of snooping you had tried. That means you wouldn't even be able to set a spy in the library to see what kind of interesting things might be done in your absence.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're still a little peeved the next morning when she gives you the usual ride to school; your mood isn't lightened when in the car she hands you the box of condoms Cindy had asked her to buy on Friday.  But you perk up when her cell phone rings. Her answer is impatient and grudging, but she accedes: "I have to stop someplace on the way to school," she tells you. "You mind?"<br/>
<br/>
You tsk and slouch a little, but are secretly rather pleased, and are more pleased when the detour takes you far out of your way to Blackwell's. She doesn't even park in the back this time.<br/>
<br/>
"Be right back," she says brusquely.<br/>
<br/>
You very much want to ask if you can come in with her, even though it would be out of character.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212221212
author_id: seuzz
title: Another book and what you found inside
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It'll be at least seven or nine days before you can have a mask ready for another switch, which is plenty of time to slowly screw up Cindy's life. The free run of Blackwell's library while he's out of town is much more valuable.<br/>
<br/>
There's a visitor standing at the door as you walk in, which surprises you since you didn't see a car out front. You freeze when she turns at your approaching footsteps. It's Lucy.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at each other in stricken silence for a few seconds before Cindy's big sister speaks. "So. Professor Blackwell has you working here too."<br/>
<br/>
You turn crimson. "Um, we got a call at the house? He was looking for you? So I came over to--?"<br/>
<br/>
She brushes this incoherent lie aside. "Look, I know who you are and what you look like under that mask, William Prescott. This is perverted, even for you."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just a temporary thing!" you protest. "I'm trying to get close to— to—" It's not going to sound any better if you finish that sentence.<br/>
<br/>
"Get closer to me? That's even sicker. Or you figure you'll play with my sister's private parts if you can't play with mine?" You can only blush hard and deeply. She sweeps past you imperiously. "I was supposed to check on something for Blackwell, but it can wait until you're not inside, stinking up the house." A few minutes later her SUV appears from behind the house and speeds away.<br/>
<br/>
Well, that tears it. All that work to get ahold of Cindy, all for nothing. There's no way you're getting that bracelet onto Lucy now. Inside, you change out of Cindy and into Jared, put the Cindy mask on the spare golem, and send it home with the caution to steer clear of Lucy. You go to work in the library but are soon feeling lonely and oppressed, so you call your old house and tell your golem twin to come out, to work with you and keep you company.<br/>
<br/>
When it arrives, you pull its mask off long enough to press your own face into it, to pick up its latest memories and to give it your own; it saves time on catching up. The two of you set to work researching more about guardians, to find another way of setting a spy on Lucy. You've made quite a bit of headway when Will has to run up to the third-floor workroom to examine one of Blackwell's specialized instruments. He's not gone long when his shouts summon you. He is staring down into an open book when you get upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
"Check it out," he says. "I went looking through the drawers under the bench and found this. Look here, where he had it open."<br/>
<br/>
You peer over his shoulder. It's a book written in some kind of old German. In the margin of the open page Blackwell has scribbled "Schablonenmann = Shabbleman?"<br/>
<br/>
Your twin points to the second name. "Wasn't that grandma's maiden name?"<br/>
<br/>
You think. "Great-grandma. Grandma was a Tollefson."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Those cousins over in Cuthbert." He shudders. "Never liked being related to them."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get the laptop." You run downstairs and retrieve the computer, feeling grateful that Blackwell, no matter his attachment to the ancient occult, is also the model of a modern major warlock and has high-speed internet and a wi-fi station installed in his house. This book isn't magical, so you have no trouble translating the passage in question with an online tool. <br/>
<br/>
It tells of a 16th century witch trial in Saxony in which the accused witch replaced several people of the village she lived in with simulacra. She then killed the local noble's wife and was caught trying to sneak into his estate. Before she was burnt at the stake, the witch cursed the Inquisitors who had stopped her just short of unlocking the secret of “the absolute power of eternal health and beauty”. As she burned, the simulacra in the town “shed their false visages and became as the clay of the earth."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds familiar," your twin says, "but what's it got to do with great-grandma?" <br/>
<br/>
You point to the German name Blackwell had written. "Ten to one that was the witch's name." You feed the name into the translator, and you both whistle at the result. "Even if it's not the witch's name, that's a creepy coincidence."<br/>
<br/>
Will nods. "Remember that weird thing he said about the book 'seeking' you out, boss?" You're both silent for a bit. Then he slaps you in the chest. "I got a baseball in the truck. How about we play catch for a bit?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You toss the ball lazily back and forth in a far corner of the garden, talking nonchalantly of this and that. At one point you throw the ball too hard and it bounces over the wall. You both hop over to retrieve it. Once safely outside you speak quickly; you and your golem are not telepathic, but you do think along the same lines, which makes for a fast conversation.<br/>
<br/>
"There's got to be secret rooms," Will says. "The geometry of the first floor doesn't make sense."<br/>
<br/>
"Right around the library, yeah, but how do we beat the guardians in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"We start dusting, moving things out of niches, see what we accidentally find?"<br/>
<br/>
"It would still look bad. We need to find where they are."<br/>
<br/>
"At least we know the monkey is one of them. The other statues probably are too."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "He knows we're reading up on guardians. It wouldn't look bad if we started nosing all around trying to find them."<br/>
<br/>
"Or search the other rooms in the house. If he left this out he might have left other things out."<br/>
<br/>
"He might have guardians set in them."<br/>
<br/>
"They're not like security cameras, dude. They can't record things. Only if he happens to be watching."<br/>
<br/>
"Or they be might be on me," you reflect. "He gave me these clothes. Lucy brought them."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get back in the yard, think about it some more before we decide the next step."</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222122
author_id: seuzz
title: Switch with Seth.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Getting from Yumi into another girl's boyfriend isn't going to be as straightforward as getting into Yumi had been. You spend a great deal of thought on possible plans before coming up with something that seems both elegant and possessed of a reasonable chance of success. <br/>
<br/>
It begins early the next morning with a quick exchange of masks at Blackwell's, preparing you for your last morning as Yumi Saito. There follows a quick dash into Wal-Mart, where you buy a very large purse, a big floppy sunhat, an overlarge padded mailer, and a cheap frock. You then make a phone call to Cindy. She takes a bit of convincing, but once she grasps your proposal she is hot for it; half an hour later she calls back excited that she's got it set up. The meeting will be at one o'clock, just after lunch.<br/>
<br/>
You go back to the house, briefly, to pack your new purse with the just-completed blank mask and the padded mailer. At twelve-thirty you hook up with Will at one of the discount clothiers in the strip mall near Larsen's Department Store and slip into one of the dressing rooms with him. He disrobes and you twitch his mask off, revealing the unconscious Yumi. Next to her you deposit her keys, purse and the cheap frock, keeping only her cell phone for yourself; the mask of Will and his clothes you stuff into your new, over-large bag next to the blank mask you are also carrying. You hurry from the stall, out of the store, and down the street toward the mall. You are wearing the sunhat and sunglasses so that the recovered Yumi, even if she makes it out of the store and onto the street while you're exposed, will be less likely to spot and recognize her stolen face.<br/>
<br/>
It is nearly one o'clock when, out of breath, you get into Larsen's, the town's locally owned high-end retailer. You are pleased to see that Cindy and Seth are already there.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"This one will drive him wild," you gasp as you yank one of the tank tops off the rack. Cindy casts a critical eye at it. "Come on, it doesn't matter what you think of it, think of what it will do to him."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but <i>I</i> have to wear it," she grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Only once," you grin. "For a few minutes. In this store." <br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Right," she grins back. She takes the skimpy, tacky thing back into the dressing rooms.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll flip when you see this next one," you tell Seth when you return to where he's sitting. He's grinning, and he's got a lot of color in his cheeks—it's been quite a fashion show you two girls have been putting on for him. He's got his legs crossed with his ankle resting on his knee so that you can see the prodigious boner swelling in the crotch of his jeans.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to show me something, or is this just Cindy's show?" He winks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Just hers," you reply with a tight smile. "Though I might try something on later when she's done."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy comes out. The top is extremely revealing—embarrassingly so, and she's blushing a bright red. But Seth opens his mouth with pleasure and softly claps.<br/>
<br/>
"Enjoy it while you can, you pervert," she mutters between gritted teeth. She quickly flees back into the changing room.<br/>
<br/>
"This is really awesome," she tells you afterwards, "but I can't afford any of these things. Even the ones that are more holes than not."<br/>
<br/>
"And I keep telling you this isn't about buying something for the party," you reply. "This is about making him totally bug-eyed over you. What part of 'the way to a boy's heart is by pretending to be a porn actress' don't you understand?" She doesn't answer. "Okay, that was crude, I admit, but—" <br/>
<br/>
"No, I get you. But after awhile it just starts to feel a little, like, demeaning."<br/>
<br/>
It sounds like the opening you've been waiting for. "So give him a taste of his own medicine. Make him try on a few things for you." She giggles. "I'm serious." You look around; the men's clearance rack is only a few rows away, and she follows you over. "Oh, make him try on this!" You pull down a pair of summer trunks made of thin cotton. "Don't get me wrong, but he has great legs."<br/>
<br/>
She giggles again, and bursts out laughing when you pull down a too-small muscle shirt as well. "He'll look totally gay," she snickers. <br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," you reply with a wicked cackle of your own. "But you'll get to see his abs, and boy will he look cute when he's embarrassed." <br/>
<br/>
You linger at a distance, pretending to be absorbed in some more women's clothes, as she takes the items over to Seth. A playful argument ensues, which he naturally loses, and his face is crimson as he slinks to the dressing room. You let him get inside and then squeal excitedly. "While you're taking a break, Cindy, I'm going to try this on!" You take your find and hurry off after Seth.<br/>
<br/>
Larsen's is very chic, so the doors to their stalls go all the way to the top and bottom. You knock softly. "Seth? Cindy has one more thing for you." You take the blank mask from the purse. <br/>
<br/>
He opens the door and you push in past him. "What the—?" is all he has time to say before you leap onto the changing bench and slap the blank mask against his face. He tumbles backwards but lands in a sitting position on the bench.<br/>
<br/>
The rest is quite leisurely. Seth already has his shoes and jeans off; you just have to pull his shirt and underwear and socks off as well. You take off both Yumi's clothes and the mask you've been wearing and stuff them, along with her cell phone, into the padded mailer, which you seal. You also take out Will's clothes and set them aside. By this point the new mask has reappeared on Seth's face; you carefully lift it off and drop Will's mask onto Seth; simultaneously, you put the Seth mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
Your doppelganger is mostly dressed by the time you wake. "This is totally gay," he snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," you mutter, and hold up the muscle shirt you'd picked out for Seth. He snorts with suppressed laughter. "I was hoping that'd be your reaction. Sorry, dude, but I didn't tell you about this next part of the plan." You press him against the back of the stall, pin him at the shoulder, and pop him three hard cracks in the eye with your fist.<br/>
<br/>
He howls and falls to the floor. <br/>
<br/>
"Okay, get up and get out. Take this to the clubhouse and hide it there." You hand him the mailer, and he scurries out, bent over and nursing his eye.<br/>
<br/>
You pull Seth's clothes on and exit as quickly as possible. Cindy, looking aghast, is near the door of the dressing rooms. "What happened?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Faggot caught me coming out in those clothes you picked out for me," you mutter. You work your jaw angrily. "If he says anything about to anyone else I'll pop him in the other eye real good too."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Cindy insists on looking for Yumi and then on calling her when she doesn't show up. She grows increasingly frantic at the way she has vanished without a trace. After about an hour of searching all over the mall you suggest calling her house. Yumi is there, and Cindy talks to her. The conversation is disjointed and confusing, and not just because you are only listening to Cindy's side of it.<br/>
<br/>
Your girlfriend is baffled and angry by the time she hangs up: Yumi isn't making a lot of sense and has no explanation for why she suddenly quit the store. You just grunt. "She's a space cadet, that's all. You've told me so yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"No, she's just forgetful and thoughtless," Cindy says. "This is like something <i>Maria</i> would do." She continues to wonder over it for a little while, but eventually puts it out of her mind.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Seth Javits is not quite at the top of the school hierarchy; he is a member of the basketball team and he seems to be on pretty good terms with Gordon Black. He is also jerk and a bully who for several years has tormented your friend Keith. So he represents an almost-pinnacle rather than the pinnacle itself, and you have not convinced yourself that he is your final destination. But for the next week, at least, he is going to be your persona. The question is, what to do in the meantime.<br/>
<br/>
You had the idea of causing a breakup between him and Cindy, a breakup that would involve you passing the enchanted bracelet on to Lucy. You still need to do that. But if you're going to make Seth a semi-permanent home, there is no reason to wreck his romance just yet. You'd have to find another way to put a spy on Lucy.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212221221
author_id: seuzz
title: Break up with Cindy.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>After dropping Cindy off you swing home to change. Seth has the run of his house: he's the youngest of the family and the only one still living at home with some relatively aged parents. You change into nice clothes and then drive over to the old elementary school "clubhouse" to pick up Yumi's cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
You are almost there before you remember that you need to have your doppelganger come over to open it up for you. You're taking out your cell phone as you pull into the parking lot, where you are surprised to see Caleb's car sitting. The hell?<br/>
<br/>
You put your phone away and drum your fingers on the steering wheel. There's no telling what you'll find inside, so you decide just to improvise.<br/>
<br/>
The door to the basement is partially open and voices drift out. You look in to find Caleb and Keith standing there. Keith is holding the padded mailer, and both are examining it excitedly.<br/>
<br/>
Your gut freezes: If they get that thing open ...<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, faggots, the fuck are you doing down here?" Both of your old friends jump several inches and whirl at your voice. Caleb flinches, but Keith actually takes a few steps back, putting Caleb between you and him. Keith and Javits have bad history together.<br/>
<br/>
"There's a law against breaking and entering," you continue. "Looks I get to make a citizen's arrest." You advance on them slowly with a malicious grin.<br/>
<br/>
"We just saw the door was open, same as you," Caleb says. "We were just seeing what was up."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit," you reply. You jerk your chin at Keith. "Whatcha got, Tilley?" You shove Caleb out of the way and push Keith back against a cabinet, pinning him. He briefly goes limp, and you snatch the mailer from his grasp. "The fuck's in here?" You sniff it. "Smells like girl underwear. You been sneaking into your sister's room again, sharing what you find with your boyfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"We found it here," Caleb says. "That's all. We were just—"<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit again," you taunt. "You are so full of shit this afternoon, Johansson." You look between him and Keith, and then release the latter. You tear open the mailer and peer inside. "Whoa," you smile, pulling Yumi's dress part-way out. "I always called you a pervert, Tilley, but I think this nails it down."<br/>
<br/>
Both boys are crimson faced, with fury and embarrassment, but they don't move. "Yeah, I guess I won't tell the cops about what you're doing down here. This is enough for me." You waggle the envelope and smirk. "See you at school on Monday, <i>laaaaay-dees!</i>!" You laugh harshly as you swagger back out to your car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You hide the mailer under the passenger seat and drive out to pick up Cindy. She looks smashing, and even though you're planning to break up with her, you muss her face with lots of wet, sloppy, lustful kisses. The party is a lot of fun. The weird part, oddly, is connecting with Jeremy Richards again. Back in middle school he used to hang out with you and Caleb and Keith before he hit a growth spurt, joined the basketball team, and turned into a jackass. You'd forgotten how much fun he could be to talk to and horse around with. He's a pretty good mimic, especially of teachers, and between that and a great talent for bodily noises (yeah, crude middle school humor he hasn't fully grown out of) he has you in stitches all night long, much to Cindy's embarrassment and annoyance.<br/>
<br/>
You make nice to Cindy long enough, though, to worm an invitation to Sunday lunch out of her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Despite his bullying ways, Javits does know how to put on a civilized veneer, and lunch at the Vredenburgs is quite successful. You "sir" and "ma'm" her folks with great courtesy, help set and clear the table, and delight her father (who is an old Westside alum himself and a booster of the sports teams) with lots of frank, inside talk. You confess, for instance, that Westside will have its work cut out for it against your cross-town rivals, Eastman High, and give him a detailed analysis of their strengths and weaknesses vis-à-vis your own. You listen politely to his observations and suggestions. He is soon well-puffed with pride at the attention you're giving him.<br/>
<br/>
Lucy excuses herself soon after to go upstairs, and after a delicate intervening moment you also excuse yourself by asking after the restroom. You detour past it, though, to her bedroom door, and knock. You play it bashful when she answers.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, I was, um, at the mall yesterday, and, uh," you stammer and hold up the bracelet. "I saw this and, I dunno, I just thought it would look nice on you, so I got it."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyebrows lift. "You got it for me and not for Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I've got, you know, lots of stuff for her, but, um, I, uh, I like you too." You blush. She takes the bracelet and examines it. "It goes on like this," you explain, taking it back and clasping it around her slim wrist. You let your fingers linger.<br/>
<br/>
"That's very sweet, Seth," she says. <br/>
<br/>
You shrug uncertainly, avoiding her eyes, then awkwardly step back and return down the hall.<br/>
<br/>
While you're still sitting in the living room visiting with the family Lucy comes back down again and leaves, citing a need to return to the university. You notice she hasn't removed the bracelet, so you make your excuses soon after and also leave. In yesterday's confusion you forgot to take the spy station with you, so you'll need to stop by Blackwell's to pick it up, so that's your first stop.<br/>
<br/>
To your surprise, though, you find that you've soon caught up to and are following Lucy's own SUV. You hang back so she won't spot you, and find that she is also heading to Blackwell's. You pull over before she gets there and hide around a corner and wait. After about thirty minutes you see her speed past on her way back to town. <br/>
<br/>
At Blackwell's you look over the front door carefully. The "security system" is still engaged, which means either that she got in and out fast enough to dodge the guardian, or that she knows how to disengage and reengage it; you'd be surprised by either. You hide Seth's car in the back and go in and up to your bedroom without changing.<br/>
<br/>
You pull down the bird sculpture, sit on your bed and concentrate; you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat next to an oblivious Lucy as she returns home. She is humming happily to herself all the way. Inside the house she fetches Cindy and invites her along on a shopping expedition, which Cindy gladly accepts. Along the way, Lucy says she needs to make a stop; the detour puts them on the street back to Blackwell's. Luckily, you have the presence of mind to scurry downstairs and let the guardian out again before they arrive; you are also quick enough to get back upstairs and seal yourself behind your bedroom door before the guardian itself begins to walk.<br/>
<br/>
Taking up the sculpture again, you find that Lucy and Cindy have just pulled up in front of the house. (Thank goodness you had the presence of mind to park in the back!) Lucy invites Cindy to come inside; a reluctant Cindy accedes. Lucy uses the key system to put the guardian back to sleep and ushers Cindy in. Even as you watch them through your spy, you hear their voices and footsteps downstairs as they go to the library.<br/>
<br/>
But then they vanish. Late afternoon sunlight should be slanting through the huge library windows, but the room is shrouded in inky blackness; and some force prevents your hovering bird spy from following them. You can only watch helplessly as the girls vanish into the black.<br/>
<br/>
There must be a counter-guardian set in the library, which Blackwell uses to prevent just the kind of spying you're attempting now. You can't use your present means to see what is going on down there, though you can wait to see what happens when they re-emerge. Or you can quickly change into your Jared identity and creep down to directly investigate.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212221222
author_id: seuzz
title: Keep Seth's life undisturbed.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You and Cindy part soon afterward to get ready for Meghan's party. Seth is the youngest of the family and the only one still at home; his parents are quite old, relatively speaking, and he basically has the run of the place. You take a long shower during which you relieve the excitement of the afternoon and change into fresh jeans and a dress shirt and shoes--Cindy said that if she was going to get dolled up she didn't want to see you dressed as a slob. You grin slyly to yourself as you gel and shape your short, spiky hair: the dress shirt can't show off your abs--voted best in the junior class at the end of last year --but it does nicely emphasize the v-shape of your torso. The bracelet Cindy gave you flashes on your wrist. You then dash off to run two quick errands.<br/>
<br/>
First, you go by the mall again to pick up a small box of candy from the gourmet chocolate store located there. This is less to impress Cindy (though you hope it does that) than to give you an explanation for the next errand. You call Prescott and tell him to meet you at the clubhouse.<br/>
<br/>
The mall is across town from the old school, so there's no excuse for Prescott not calling you with a head's up on what's waiting there: Caleb's car. You get out of your own car and circle slowly around to the door to the clubhouse, but you see no sign of anyone. The lock is off the door, and it is open. You push it open further, lean against the top door jam, and look in.<br/>
<br/>
It is dim, but you can make out four figures. One is Caleb and another is Keith. They have their backs to you. Then there is Prescott, who is half turned in your direction. And behind Prescott is the guardian.<br/>
<br/>
You didn't see it earlier, at the mall, though you knew it was there; the dimness of the clubhouse, though, brings it up. Javits is one of the bullies that you paid off; and just as the Yumi mask let you recognize (without being affected by) the aura that had settled around Prescott's image, the Seth mask lets you experience what he experiences, only without the actual terror. It's like a conjuring trick that you can see through, and which therefore looks very plain and rather boring.<br/>
<br/>
It takes the form of a hunched figure, like an old man in a short black cloak with his back to you. Beneath the bottom of the cloak, like the folded wings of a monstrous insect, hang the tails of a long coat; and beneath these appear ragged trousers, torn away at the bottom to reveal shins too thin and white to be flesh. Long, scraggly white hairs fall about his shoulders like spider webs from beneath a wide-brimmed black hat. His attention is elsewhere; but draw too near, you know, and he will turn to look at you, showing his face. You are quite certain the face would mean nothing to you, who cast the curse. You are equally certain, though, that anyone else would do anything --including darting into heavy traffic --if that were the only way to avoid looking into his eyes. <br/>
<br/>
This is the aura that Yumi and the others were sensing; and just as they were not directly aware of the aura, so too Javits and Lynch and the others have not actually seen the guardian, in the sense that they do not actually see this figure following Prescott around. At least, they haven't seen it consciously. But the baser parts of their brains, the reptilian parts, certainly have, and that is why they sicken with horror and fear when Prescott draws near.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure how this is going to play, but you might as well open as Javits.<br/>
<br/>
"Yo," you call, and the three boys jump. "The fuck are you delinquents doing in here?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb grimaces, and Keith flinches. <br/>
<br/>
"Oh, so you're here, Tilley. Tch, I thought you knew better than go breaking and entering."<br/>
<br/>
"What are <i>you</i> doing here," Prescott asks you bluntly. You suppress a smile; it pleases you to see your golem staying in character by standing up to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Exercising my civic duty. I'm driving by, I see the door open, and stop to see if there's a gang or something that needs its shit straightened out. Turns out there is."<br/>
<br/>
"We found it open too," Caleb jumps in. "We came in to see what was up."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. I'll let two of you go, but one of you has to come down to the cops with me and confess the error of his ways. Tilley, looks like you're volunteered," you finish with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," says Prescott, stepping forward. He pushes away Caleb's hand. "If you want to take one of us you take me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not touching your gay ass again, Prescott. I gave you that shiner and that's enough for one day."<br/>
<br/>
"If you want Keith you have to come through me." He positions himself between you and Keith.<br/>
<br/>
You tilt your chin and let your voice get shrill. "You wanna step out here and say that again, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
His smile is faint as he advances, and you fall back. Once he's outside he pulls the door closed behind him.<br/>
<br/>
"I need Yumi's cell phone," you tell him in a low voice. <br/>
<br/>
"And I got it for you." He pulls it from his pocket and tosses it to you. "Took you freaking long enough to pick up on my signals in there."<br/>
<br/>
You snicker. "Nicely played. But why didn't you tell me--? Wait, watch it, they're at the windows. Run at me, swinging." He charges, and you flop onto the ground and scramble on all fours back to your car. "You're gonna get fucked up, Prescott!" you scream at him. "Fucking, fucking ... fucked up!" You jump into your car and flash him a thumb's up that from inside the clubhouse should look like the bird.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
None of the three are at Meghan's party, so you don't have to reenact such a scene. When you pick up Cindy you give her the chocolates and Yumi's cell phone, which you say you found when you stopped by Larsen's to check up on anything she might have left behind. This sets Cindy off on another speculative frenzy which carries over into the party. It's not your intention to make Yumi's life any more difficult for her, but you figure a little dust in the air can't hurt.<br/>
<br/>
Otherwise, it's a fun party. Cindy is all over you, and you have fun joshing and horsing around with Black and Patterson and the others.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The bottom falls out for you the next day, though. You get a call early Sunday morning from a cheery-sounding Jason Lynch inviting you to the "VIP Lounge" early in the afternoon. This is the loft over the weight room in the school gym; Lynch, Black and Patterson have keys to the gym and to the loft both, a secret present from the coach to his "boys", where they keep booze and porn and make rendezvous with girls. Only the very select ever get invited up there, and this will be your first trip.<br/>
<br/>
It's a stinky hole in ceiling is what it is, but it smells like heaven to you. You--hat is to say, Seth--have assiduously played the ruling clique's games, and you feel with mounting excitement that you have arrived when Lynch lets you up and gives you a dirty glass of Jim Beam and a porn magazine and invites you to stretch out on a grimy gym mat that is caked in the remnants of love. He even laughs when you ask if he's trying to come on to you.<br/>
<br/>
You talk of this and that, of plans and hopes for the season; the bittersweet knowledge that this year, your senior year, will be the climax of pre-adult life, and that it has to be lived to its full. "It's downhill from here, man," Lynch says. "The next eight months you do <i>not</i> want to fuck up."<br/>
<br/>
"Cheers to that!" you toast, and raise the glass.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that," he says, indicating the bracelet that flashes on your wrist. "Lemme see it," he says when you explain. He takes it and admires it and slips it onto his own wrist. "Like a faggoty friendship bracelet, huh?" he jokes. <br/>
<br/>
Well, he laughed at your joke, so you laugh at this one.<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna be my friend, Javits? Friends with the guys who hang out here?" <br/>
<br/>
You shrug with a smile, but your heart is beating excitedly. Sounds like you stepped into Seth at just the right moment.<br/>
<br/>
"Dump Cindy. Dump her. Dump the cunt."<br/>
<br/>
You blink. Is this another joke?<br/>
<br/>
Lynch's hard smile glitters and his blue eyes flash. "I'm serious. You have to dump her. Tonight. Tell her you got what you want and you're done with her."<br/>
<br/>
You finally find your voice. "This is bullshit!"<br/>
<br/>
"If it is, tell it to Gordon. It comes straight from him."<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck--?"<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna be a team player? You gotta show your loyalty. And this will show it. Prove you love your buddy's assholes more than your girl's cunny."<br/>
<br/>
"If this is some kind of gay thing--"<br/>
<br/>
"Make that wisecrack a third time and I'll fuck you up real hard," he says softly, but there is a fire in his eyes. "You like this, you want this?" He gestures around the loft. "You can have it. We'll set you up real nice with any other girl. Or lots of pussy, if you want, and not Patterson's cast offs either. Bring you up here and not just on holidays. But you gotta dump Cindy and dump her hard. She's gotta cry.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, and if you don't," he adds in the manner of a man smacking the last nail into place, "Gordon says you're off the team."</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Defenestration of Cindy Vredenburg
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>On Wednesday you witness the start of one of the swiftest and most brutal social decapitations in Westside history. <br/>
<br/>
It begins at cheerleader practice during first period, when Cindy Vredenburg challenges Chelsea Cooper over one of the routines. Chelsea sweetly reminds Cindy who the head cheerleader is; Cindy snaps back about being the sister of a former captain, Lucy Vredenburg.<br/>
<br/>
In the locker room afterward—Oh God, this is your favorite part, getting to ogle Lin Pol and Maria Vasquez and the Garner twins, and Chelsea herself from behind Yumi's innocent face—Chelsea waits until Cindy has left, and then says:<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I think Seth was being a real jerk in the game last Friday. More than that. He was totally hogging the ball. It came real close to costing us the game." When Lin politely demurs, Chelsea wheels on her. "Do you know anything about basketball, Lin? Are you dating the captain of the team? Do you get private post-game analysis from the best player in the state?"<br/>
<br/>
"Did the best player in the state say anything about Seth?" You can't resist jumping in.<br/>
<br/>
"Maria knows more about basketball than you do, Yumi. She high enough off the ground that she can actually see what's going on." Maria is an infamous airhead; and Yumi is the shortest girl on the squad. Your cheeks flame.<br/>
<br/>
"But to answer your question, no, he didn't," she continues. "He was in the thick of it, trying to save our asses. But I think I'll have to mention it to Gordon. If Seth pulls the same crap against Eastman next month it'd be real bad."<br/>
<br/>
Seth Javits—has it been mentioned?— is Cindy Vredenburg's boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, by evening, rumors are flying that Javits is in the dog house with the team captain. Of course, you don't learn of this until the next morning, when you don the Yumi mask again and head off to school. While standing out front and gossiping with Lin you see Seth, head down, bust out of the gym. The crowd of other players follows at a distance, and from the low jeers you catch as they pass, you can tell that Javits is the brunt of significant displeasure.<br/>
<br/>
Then, during fourth period, just before lunch, you overhear Meghan Farris, who is throwing a party on Saturday night, casually stop Cindy to "remind" her that the party is being postponed by a week. Cindy, who is looking a little haggard, says that this is the first she's heard of it; Meghan frowns and airily wonders aloud if Cindy is "out of the loop." You lean over and ask Lin about the postponement; she makes a face and says that nothing is being postponed, that Meghan just wants Cindy to "accidentally" miss it.<br/>
<br/>
A greasy, charged feeling hangs over the air at the top-tier table at lunch, and it explodes when Cindy, to lusty catcalls, runs off in tears. When Seth goes after her, he is chased by "pussy whip" noises.<br/>
<br/>
In the parking lot after school, you see Javits, his face black with anger—and his cheek blackened perhaps by something more than that. He appears from around the back corner of the school and vanishes into the quad. A moment later Gordon Black and Steve Patterson appear from around the same corner, looking very pleased with themselves; they quietly high five each other.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I have to go out of town for a few days," Blackwell tells you the next morning, which is a Friday, when you come down for breakfast. "I'll be leaving this afternoon and returning on Monday."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. I could use the weekend playing around as Yumi." If nothing else you're quite curious to follow the drama surrounding Seth and Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I thought you might housesit."<br/>
<br/>
"I can do that if you want," you say as you pour yourself some coffee. "But don't you have a security system?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, and I'll show you how it works. But you seem nicely caught up in your studies, and I suspected you'd begrudge the time away from the books."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "That's true, too."<br/>
<br/>
"Good, it's settled. Of course, you might step out as your, uh, girl for a little relaxation. But you might have a hard time convincing her to come over. She doesn't like you, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you order her to come when I call?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ordering a golem to obey another's orders is tricky. Sometimes it works, but the results can be unpredictable."<br/>
<br/>
That's too bad.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell show you how to work the security system—you're not surprised to learn it involves the vampire cyclops-monkey—and then you head off to school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Okay, so what's going on with Seth and Cindy?" Jenny asks at your locker.<br/>
<br/>
The social sites were burning up all night, which made for a giant and exciting update when you put Yumi back over your face this morning. "They're breaking up, I hear," you mutter back.<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone is saying that," she says. "I want the inside dirt."<br/>
<br/>
"The inside dirt is that he's turning into some kind of showboating asshole on the court in order to impress her, and Gordon came down on him like a case of ugly on Mr. Fernandez."<br/>
<br/>
"So what does that have to do with a breakup?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon's told him it's her or the team, and that if he picks her then he's a pussy."<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I hear," you shrug. "And my sources for this kind of thing are pretty good, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"He wouldn't do that! I mean, forcing a guy to choose between his girlfriend and ..."<br/>
<br/>
"And what? You remember what they did to Chuck Lovell after he quit on them last year. He had to change schools, and he's not a guy to fuck around with. Gordon is, like, a total psycho on the subject."<br/>
<br/>
"But isn't Seth part of their posse?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny, you know there's only three guys that matter."<br/>
<br/>
The denouement comes swiftly that afternoon: the text goes out during third period, and when you next see them, Gordon, Steve, Jason, and Seth are all best friends again, laughing and patting each other on the chest. Cindy, on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen, and bets are already being placed on how long she can remain on the cheerleading squad given the terrible humiliation of being dumped by a top basketball player.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That evening you are sitting in Blackwell's living room, polishing a newly cast mask and meditating on the subtle power that Chelsea Cooper exercises so ruthlessly, when the affair has a curious sequel. You hear the front door opens and close, and you see Lucy Vredenburg, Cindy's older sister, pass down the hall.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" you call and hurry after her. She turns with a stare that is more than a little impatient. "What are you doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
"He called me. He wanted me to check on something."<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell?" Your eyebrows shoot up. "Why didn't he call me? He knows I'm here, house-sitting."<br/>
<br/>
"It's something for <i>our</i> project, not yours."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Hmmm.</i> "I didn't know you two had projects. I thought you just ran errands for him."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you don't know <i>everything</i>, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
Your nostrils flare and your cock stirs: you are, as usual, wearing Jared's body, and you're not inclined to take backtalk from a girl. "You know," you say, leaning in close. "I could say I don't believe you. In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you'll piss him off."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. Or maybe you're full of shit and he'll be really glad I caught and stopped you."<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you call him, then?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I will." You snap open the house cell phone you carry and quickly dial Blackwell's personal cell phone. She tries taking it from you. "What are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let me talk to him."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. I ask the questions, because I'm the one who's supposed to be here. Yeah, Aubrey? Did you call Lucy Vredenburg tonight?" He says no. "Thanks." You clap the phone shut. "You know what he said, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Her face is an ugly shade of red. "Just let me run upstairs real quick and I'll be out of your hair."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh uh. You can go back out the way you came. And don't try breaking in when the lights are out. It'd be a really bad idea."<br/>
<br/>
She glares and turns to leave. <br/>
<br/>
But you grab her by the elbow. "I'll have to tell him about this, you know. Unless you give me a good—and I mean a <i>very</i> good and exciting—reason not to."<br/>
<br/>
Her lip curls. "You're not serious."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221
author_id: seuzz
title: A Prisoner in the Attic
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Lucy shrieks as you duck and sweep her up onto your shoulder. She's strong, and she twists and fights, but as Jared you are stronger still. Your quivering burden causes you to wobble dangerously on the staircases, but you make it up to the attic workshop, which is where you throw her to the floor. She glares up at you with a blotched face.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you've got a choice," you tell her as you catch your breath. "You can spend the night in here, or you can spend the night in my room with me."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what this is, don't you?" she snarls.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's the old black magic called love. The way Aubrey explains it, you ask what you have, you ask what you want, and then you ask what will get you from one to the other. This is my spell for getting you show me a little affection."<br/>
<br/>
Her lips peel back and she raises claw-like hands, but then catches herself and seems to think better of whatever she was going to do or say. "So what do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know perfectly well what I want, and I want it given willingly. Or, at least as willingly as is possible under the circumstances." Your smile is hard. <br/>
<br/>
"And if I refuse?"<br/>
<br/>
"Then you spend the night in here. And if you think that's preferable, let me tell you about our security system."<br/>
<br/>
"I know all about the <i>gwarcheidwad.</i>" There's a tremble in her voice, and she is breathing hard. "It can be defeated," she says softly, more to herself than you, it sounds like. Then her eyes flash again. "If you'd just let me talk to Aubrey—"<br/>
<br/>
"There's no guarantee that what you'll tell him over the phone is the truth. I want you here when he gets back so he can question you directly. I don't know the tricks, but he has ways of getting the truth out of people."<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to keep me a prisoner until then? My family will miss me."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. Maybe not. There are ways of handling that, too." She stiffens noticeably. "So, where do you want to bed down?"<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't hesitate. "I'll take my chances in here."<br/>
<br/>
"This room isn't protected."<br/>
<br/>
"I said I'll take my chances!"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "It's your funeral. Or, it would be if the security system ever left anything behind. I'll be up a little before midnight to see if you've changed your mind." You lock her in.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The guardian will enter the house at midnight; at five minutes till you go back upstairs. Lucy looks up at you from the floor of the workroom, which is now covered in a dense scrawl of chalk sigils. She sits in the middle, still adding to them. <br/>
<br/>
"Impressive," you say. You kneel and examine them. "Yeah, I'm not an expert yet, but these look good. I thought Aubrey said you weren't a witch."<br/>
<br/>
"I know a few things, as you can see. It's a bad idea to piss me off."<br/>
<br/>
"Girl, if your threats meant anything, you'd have acted on them by now. Come to bed with me. I promise I'll be gentle."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck off."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "I really do hope I'll see you in the morning." You linger a bit to see if the goodnight message had its effect, then reluctantly lock her in. <br/>
<br/>
When you get to the bottom of the stairs you almost turn around to let her out. But you realize she wouldn't come out anyway; if she were willing to trust you to let her out of the house, she would have been willing to trust you in the bedroom. Too bad: actually, you're not sure you'd have done anything except give her the bed while you took the floor. Mostly she was just really pissing you off with that attitude, and you wanted her to acknowledge you as the legitimate authority in the house during Blackwell's absence. But Lucy was a stuck-up bitch even back in high school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The <i>gwarcheidwad</i> is restless and noisy all night, and it wakes you several times. It scrambles up and down the hallway, rattling the knobs. It makes a tremendous ruckus downstairs by (from the sounds of it) tipping over the china cabinet. A little after two it wakes you by banging hard on your door. The roof creaks and groans, and at one point you raise your head to see the shadow of a thing with very long arms passing across your window.<br/>
<br/>
At four in the morning a scream tears through the house. You bolt out of bed.<br/>
<br/>
The <i>gwarcheidwad</i> hasn't got a voice. Either you dreamed it, or it found a way through the maze of sigils Lucy built to baffle it, and got to her. You listen closely. You hear only silence. Even the <i>gwarcheidwad</i> has gone quiet.<br/>
<br/>
That's a bad sign.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow and look at the clock. Five. Dawn is still quite a ways off. If you go out to check on Lucy you will be risking your own life, and probably for no good reason. If it got to her, you will be too late. If it hasn't, then there is no reason to go out. And if it was a dream, you'd be risking yourself for nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Still, it's hard to do nothing when you've heard a girl scream.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Path Through the Protective Maze
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your heart hammers as you open the door and look into the dark hallway. Down one end are stairs leading up to the third-floor workroom; at the other end are the main stairs leading down to the first floor. From overhead comes a sound like claws scrabbling at a hard surface; it sounds like something is trying to dig through the ceiling to get to you.<br/>
<br/>
No place in the house is truly safe anymore, and you curse the sense of guilt that led you to so foolishly break the seal that kept you safe inside your own bedroom. You have to get out of the house; indeed, you have to get past the outside wall. That would argue for running like a greyhound down the stairs and out the front door. But just because the guardian is on the third floor at the moment doesn't mean you won't meet it on the main staircase; it doesn't work that way. Diving out a window would probably be safer, assuming you didn't break your neck.<br/>
<br/>
You look between the main staircase and the window in your own room, trying to quickly gauge your chances of success at each. Then your heart leaps: the door to Blackwell's bedroom is still open. Taking a deep breath, you throw yourself into the hall and run low toward it. There's a crash like collapsing plaster and something very big and heavy drops onto the floor behind you. You skitter into the bedroom, grab the knob and hurl the door shut with a bang. It rings like a timpani under the blows that follow, but the seal, which activates each evening when the door is shut for the night, holds. You hear a soft scraping as of hands running along its edges, feeling for a crack or gap, but there is no edge for it to grip. <br/>
<br/>
Then a wall bends inward. You cower in the middle of the room.<br/>
<br/>
In it bends, billowing like a sail that's caught a stiff wind, and a picture falls to the floor with a crash. The wall flexes and releases, then flexes again at a higher spot, and releases. It flexes a third time, higher still, and the edge of the ceiling droops to meet it: the guardian is climbing the wall back onto the third floor. It trods heavily over your head—you kneel and scuttle back toward the door—until it reaches a far wall; there's a sliding sound and another great thump.<br/>
<br/>
The first blow falls like a hammer against the wall behind the bed, the one that separates it from the bedroom next door. The second blow is like a sledgehammer; the third like a battering ram. Cracks appear in the wall, rippling outward like filaments of a spider web; dust shakes into the air and onto the ground. Brown stains spread out from under the paint, and a foul odor rolls in like a wave. You edge toward the window and look out. <br/>
<br/>
By the light of the sinking moon you see a tree branch hanging close to the sill: it runs back to the yew tree over the top of the mausoleum. The mausoleum itself is close to the back wall of the garden. <br/>
<br/>
You really have no other option.<br/>
<br/>
You throw the window and grab the branch. It bends under your weight and you swing over to the mausoleum, landing heavily on its roof. Your fleet slide from under you as you scramble over it, and you nearly topple off, but you make it to the far edge and dive head-first for the wall. You catch the top of it just below your rib cage, busting all the air from your lungs, but you grip and pull yourself over. It may be your imagination, but you think you feel something very sharp nip at your heel as you go over.<br/>
<br/>
From outside the garden there is nothing to suggest anything wrong with the house, but you know appearances are absolutely deceptive; the guardian is almost certainly watching you with hunger and malice. <br/>
<br/>
You find Lucy's SUV nearby. You climb into it and doze fretfully until dawn. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The house shows no sign of damage on its first floor when you go back in after the sun is well up over the horizon. There is no smashed cabinetry, no hole in the hallway ceiling, no dents in the walls. <br/>
<br/>
Of course, there wouldn't be. <br/>
<br/>
Up on the third floor you find the work room empty and Lucy's complex maze of sigils in ruins, with a hideous brown stain cutting right to its empty center. You fetch a mop and bucket of warm water and get to work erasing the broken sigils before they can attract anything unpleasant.<br/>
<br/>
Only when this is done do you look into Blackwell's bedroom and find real damage: the wall the guardian attacked is completely demolished. This sobers you, for the guardian can do physical damage only when it is forcing its way through a vulnerable magic barrier to get to the object it wants. If you hadn't gone out the window ...<br/>
<br/>
You examine the wall carefully, and find that it held a kind of hidden closet; you are excited to realize that this was a secret room inside Blackwell's bedroom. There is a large pipe inside the room, running up to the third floor; you ponder this, and realize it is the drainage pipe for the sink in the bottom of the workroom floor. You go back upstairs to look: The sink was at the center of Lucy's maze.<br/>
<br/>
You scratch your head as you puzzle it out. <br/>
<br/>
The link between the sink, the pipe, and the maze Lucy tried constructing to foil the guardian suggest that she was drawing on some kind of power located in that secret room. What was that power, and how did she know it was there?<br/>
<br/>
Then you see that this is how the guardian got past the bedroom seal: it followed the earlier path it carved through the maze and followed it down into that pocket next to the bedroom. That also suggests there was some kind of charged path connecting the bedroom and the workroom for it to follow.<br/>
<br/>
Back in the bedroom you dig through the debris. There was a kind of shelf in the hidden closet, and you find a book buried under the broken plywood and plaster.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Sexton's Scarecrow
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's not an old book, and it is written in English, but it has the feeling of a scrapbook. The pages are all of different sizes and weights; typeface varies; some pages are handwritten. It is quite thick. You open almost at random and start to read a handwritten scrawl:<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
I should start by saying that everything here happened a long time ago and didn't happen around here. I don't know why you're asking about it, and I'd forgotten all about it myself until I got your letter. It surprises me that your dad remembers my telling him this story, which I got from my own granddad. I don't know how seriously to take it and I hope you don't take it seriously. I don't want to be responsible for nightmares, though I also reckon you are big enough now not to be scared that easily. <br/>
<br/>
So like I say, all this happened back over in England, and as it was told to me it happened a long time ago in one of those little villages up in the north, the kind that sit next to and nearly atop some moors and some little ways off from the sea. It was one of those places where there's nothing to stop the wind from blowing in from across the great northern oceans, rattling the grass and creaking in the boughs of the forest that grew up right near where folk lived. It was one of those places with a little stone church that had been built back even before King John sat on the throne, back even before there was a village that needed it. It had been built back when someone reckoned it was a good idea to plant a church in an empty place that had, we may say, things that wouldn't like to have a church nearby and so wouldn't linger near where there was one.<br/>
<br/>
So you should picture it as a cold and gray and windy kind of place, where everyone and everything seemed to have a kind of a hunch in their shoulders. The surprising thing, I'm told, was that it wasn't that poor or unpleasant. If the sky was often cloudy, it rained when it was seasonable but never got all floody. If the sun was weak it was still strong enough to tempt little green shoots out of the earth. Most people there walked around with a kind of permanent sniffle, but you shouldn't expect people to be too healthy in those old times. And if people who were too young or too old got carried off by something in the wind, or if even a strong man sometimes laid down at night and didn't get up in the morning, and if the cows sometimes stopped giving milk--it wasn't something out of the ordinary. The wonder wasn't that people or animals got to feeling poorly, it was that they got to feeling so a lot less often than you'd think, given the color of the sky and the scrape of the air. In fact, if anything they seemed a little fatter than they oughter have been.<br/>
<br/>
So, like I say I was told, there was a sexton at this church, which means he was the handyman. He made sure the gutters were cleaned and the grass mown, that the windows were washed and fires kept when they needed to be kept, and that the pews never broke. He was also the fellow that had to dig the graves, whether it was seasonable or not, though there was another fellow in this village that supplied the gravestones. Grave-digging's not a fun thing, though I guess it's hardly worse than ditch digging. Just goes deeper and you don't have as much room to swing your arms. Still, I get the impression the ground all about was pretty stony, which can't have made things any easier.<br/>
<br/>
This sexton had been a sexton for as long as anyone could remember. He was described to me as a runty little man, all hard and a little squashed, with legs and arms that bowed out a little and a face all squashed down into a frown and a big, pointed chin that jutted out to one side. Sextoncy (if that's a word) ran in his family, for his dad had been the sexton before him, and his granddad too. That much I know, and if the story isn't a load of what shouldn't be sniffed too closely then probably the line went back way before them. It doesn't get mentioned whether this fellow had a son all lined up to take over for him. Maybe he didn't, and that's how come it all came down around his ears.<br/>
<br/>
For instance, if he'd had a son, maybe that kid could have kept his fellows out of the corn field. That was one of the perks of the sexton's job, you see; he had a plot of good land next to the church where he could grow his own food to sell in town and supplement his church salary. I guess it must have been a pretty decently sized field, for from the road you couldn't make out too well the scarecrow he had in the middle of it, and you couldn't make it out at all once the stalks got high enough. I wish I could visualize exactly how it all were laid out, because it's one of the things that makes me wonder about the story. Folks should have been able to see that it was a wrong thing, if they'd been paying attention. But maybe they did pay attention, and just preferred not to notice, or maybe there was something that kept them from seeing. I don't know. Maybe it was just a very big field.<br/>
<br/>
So, some of the young fellows in this village used to get in the sexton's field. It would put him in a bother when they did, for of course they ought to have known better. The sexton wasn't a well-liked man, and maybe they liked to persecute him in small ways. He caught one boy once and shook him hard, and told him that if he wasn't careful he'd get a much closer view of the field much sooner than he'd expect, which the boy took to be the joshing threat that he'd get himself "planted" in the field if he didn't watch out.<br/>
<br/>
But one of these young fellows did get in the sexton's field one day and somehow contrived himself into the center of it, where the scarecrow was. He said afterwards that he didn't mean to go anywhere near it, had no notion of it or even of getting himself deep into the field. He was just trying to skirt the edge of it as a short cut home. But he'd gotten confused, and the sun was in the wrong direction, and the corn rows would insist on turning at weird angles, until he found himself in a little circular patch under a very strong sun, in a place where the wind did not seem to want to blow. There was a very tall pole there with a cross beam, and tied to it was a scarecrow in some old black trousers and an old black coat, and a burlap bag painted up like a human face. The boy's own face got a little queer when he mentioned this last point, and those that questioned him afterward about thought it looked like he was trying to remember something, but whatever it was never came. He told them it was tied to the main pole at the ankles and to the cross beam at the wrists, but—and this was where his listeners really sat up—he said it was tied to the pole upside down, with its feet toward the sky and its head toward the earth.<br/>
<br/>
Now, our Lord and Savior, when He got Himself crucified, at least had the decency to have it done to Him right-side up, so for the sexton at one of His own churches to crucify a scarecrow upside down was not something folks could just dismiss. So they went and talked to the parish priest about it. The priest listened to them very seriously, though I doubt he took them very seriously. He went and asked the sexton about it, and the sexton told him that the birds, being God's own creatures, needed a little something extra to put the fear of the devil in them—an answer the priest called "pert." I think I would have liked this priest, because he went back to the men that had talked to him and said it was the sexton's own business what he did with his scarecrow, and that only trespassers would be in a position to argue about it. So they went away grumbling, and nothing more got said, though I suppose it was a black mark against the sexton's reputation in the village.<br/>
<br/>
I'm guessing the business with the scarecrow happened after the business with the crypt. That was the idea of one of the wealthier men in town. Everyone else, when they died, got planted under the ground, but this fellow had himself a tomb built above ground for himself and his wife. The sexton didn't like it, though to be fair a lot of folks apparently didn't like it, as it just seemed like another way of putting himself above everyone else. But it was the sexton complained the loudest, which everyone at the time put down to resentment at having another building to maintain. But it got built, and then fellow that ordered it up and died and was put inside. A few years later his wife died, and to everyone's surprise when it was opened again there was no sign of her husband or his remains. The sexton said they must have moldered away quicker for being above ground; others said they'd never heard of such a thing, but when the sexton asked what they had heard about crypts and how they worked, these folks had to shut up. Anyway, the wife went in, and she disappeared in her own turn when her son, some years later, asked to have the crypt opened again on some business or other. <br/>
<br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Sexton's Scarecrow, Concluded
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Probably it was after this that people started paying a little closer attention to what was going on around the graveyard. At least, they paid attention when the mother of a boy named Bert died. His father had gone to sea and never come back, so he had no one else in the world when she died. No one was too surprised that he seemed to linger around the church yard an awful lot, though some eyebrows might have shot up when he said he'd seen some lights there at night, as though from a lantern. And then he complained that the earth over her grave seemed to have been disturbed.<br/>
<br/>
It was someone's ill luck that there was a stranger in the village at this time, and so when someone uttered the dread word "resurrectionist" there was a rush over to the hostel to confront this fellow. It turned out he was just a lawyer who had business with the hostel's owner, but the alarm had already been raised, and rooms and shacks and lean-tos all got searched and ransacked. It was the parish priest—who, if it wasn't the same fellow I mentioned earlier, had just as good a head on his shoulders—finally suggested opening the grave, arguing that there was no point making a hue and bother if Bert's mother were resting peacefully where she should be. He went off to find the sexton.<br/>
<br/>
It took him awhile to run him down, and the sexton proved to be in a fair state when he found him. He grumbled at the silliness of it all, and uttered a lot of black names against the men who'd been stirring up trouble, and insisted on waiting until morning, to which the priest was agreeable. It was foggy when dawn broke, but there was a still a crowd around the grave that the sexton had to force his way through, and he didn't bother to keep his curses under his breath as he dug away at a mound of dirt he'd put in place only a few days before. It took awhile before his spade tapped on the top of the coffin, and it took longer to clear enough away that they could open it up, and there was Bert's mother inside, just like she was supposed to be. All the air seemed to go out of everyone. And then someone noticed that there was dirt inside the coffin with her.<br/>
<br/>
Well, I can only say it's a good thing that lawyer fellow had cleared out during the night, or there probably would have been murder done. As it was, someone had to get the blame, and the sexton got it in the end. He was sacked on the spot, though he had to be rehired in the end when no one else would step up to take his place, but it ruined his temper for good. A regular watch was put on the church yard, at least until word could spread that no funny business would be tolerated on sacred ground. Bert, naturally, was one of the first to volunteer. He didn't last, though. One evening, not long after, he went to take his turn keeping watch, and the next morning he was nowhere to be found. It was assumed that he'd cracked and wandered off and probably done away with himself on the moor or in the wood.<br/>
<br/>
As I said, the business about Bert's mother and her brush with the resurrectionist hadn't done the sexton any good, and he took to drinking more than before. For a long time nobody minded particularly, since no one liked him, and there was a nice healthy run of years when no one had to have any business with him because there was no demand for his church yard services. But then the bad things started happening. There was a terrible drought one summer, the worst anyone could remember, and cattle started coming up lame—something was getting loose in the pasture and biting at their ankles. The hostel owner, while out riding one night, nearly got his neck broke when his horse shied from something in the dark. Stories about old times, about how the worst times in the village always followed on the best times, began to be told in the public houses. The sexton, when he was around, would simply glower into his beer and mutter that it wasn't his fault, that he'd done his duty as best he could with the hand he'd been dealt. No one knew what he meant, and no one saw fit to reply, for most people had concluded that the sexton was losing his mind to whiskey. But his own crops were in as bad a state as everyone else's, so insofar as they assumed anything, they assumed he was referring to them.<br/>
<br/>
Then the girl disappeared. She was a simple thing, maybe twenty years old, sweet and stupid though she could hardly talk, and everyone helped her mother take care of her, entertaining her and keeping her out of trouble. It wasn't like her to be out of sight and out of company—<br/>
<br/>
[Here a page was ripped out.]<br/>
<br/>
At first they thought she was just wound up in a black blanket with a shroud over her face, but then they looked closer and saw her legs had been bundled up in old black trousers and her torso wrapped in an old black coat, and what they thought was a shroud was actually a dirty burlap sack pulled over her head, on which someone had painted a crude parody of a human face.<br/>
<br/>
Well, no one had to say nothing after they saw that. They left the sexton there with a couple of strong men and went out to his corn field, where they cut down the old upside-down scarecrow. Bones fell out when it hit the ground, and they weren't white either, but black, like they'd been in a fire. Again, no one had to say anything, they just started digging around the old post. They gave up pretty quickly, though they'd turned over a lot more bones before they stopped. But the ground underneath was soft and loamy, and a horrible smell, like from an abattoir, went up from it. Then the flies, big black buzzing things, showed up and covered everything. The men wound up setting fire to the whole field.<br/>
<br/>
They took a wagon with them back to the sexton's cottage, and they threw a rope around his neck and put him in the back. He didn't fight or argue with them. He just got very grumpy and said he hadn't done anything his father hadn't taught him to do, and his father before him. They took him outside the village to a stout tree, and even after they had the other end of the rope over a branch and had his arms tied behind him he just grumbled that he didn't understand. <br/>
<br/>
By a kind of common consent no one really talked about it all, and then they had other problems. A few weeks later a great cloud of locusts appeared and settled on all the crops. Bad for the crops but good for the birds, who gorged on the grasshoppers and then kept eating right past them and into the corn and barley, until there weren't two full cobs you could rub together. People were so wrapped up in that that they didn't notice the church had begun to shift off its foundations until one of walls fell over and part of the roof fell in. They found an old tomb in the wreckage, a big stone box that had been built into the collapsed wall. It was empty, but its insides looked like they'd been scorched. After that, no one would go outside at night if they could help it, on account of the weird yowling noises that started coming out of the fields and the woods, and some said they'd seen a thing with big red eyes scrabbling around in the dirt and looking back at them malignantly. One morning someone found one of their neighbors in the road, all bloody with scratches and claw marks on this face and neck, but even after they got him cleaned up and roused with spirits he couldn't account for what happened.<br/>
<br/>
I suppose it was a blessing to the village that some of the new mines and mills had begun opening in the larger towns not far away, so a lot of the able-bodied folk were able to go off to them and earn a living, so no one starved. The strange sights and sounds gradually faded away, either because the thing spent itself or it just went off to a new situation. A hundred years later some history and archeology fellows showed up and made a study of what was left of the church. Apparently there wasn't much to be said about it or the old tomb, though someone made a note of the shoddy workmanship that had gone into the old stone lid, because the cross inscribed on its inner surface had been carved upside down.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211111
author_id: seuzz
title: Chapter One: A Screwy Business Plan
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The book falls open to pages that are cut much smaller than the other pages. They are yellowed and stiff, and the print type is very large. It reminds you of something, but not until you put the page to your nose and take a sniff do you place it: the odor takes you back instantly to late elementary school and early middle school, and the young adult books you used to gobble down. Your eye falls onto the first sentence: <i>Yikes!</i> You don't remember language like <i>that</i> showing up any of the books you read when you were eleven!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">Chapter One<br/>
A Sinister Business Plan</div><br/>
"This is the screwiest goddamn proposal I've ever read," Franklin Voss rumbled. He tossed the thick stack of bound material into the middle of his highly polished desk and glared at the two men seated on the nearby leather sofa. Ned Pickett, his chief financial officer, smirked while Jerry Bonderberg, his vice-president of acquisitions, fiddled nervously with a pen.<br/>
<br/>
"The thing is, Franklin," Jerry said, "they're only looking for a little seed money. It's a small investment with many intriguing side benefits." He spoke quickly: it was his habit to talk in a rush when he felt nervous.<br/>
<br/>
Voss snorted and took another gulp from his coffee mug. "If they're looking for seed money they should go talk to one of those red suspender guys on the Street'"<br/>
<br/>
"They can't go to <i>bank,</i> Franklin," Jerry objected.<br/>
<br/>
"'and if I was looking for a little casino action I'd toss some bucks over to Coffman in Legit."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not talking about return on investment, Franklin," Jerry continued. "That's Ned's bailiwick, and if Ned says there's insufficient upside on the risk then we all know there's insufficient upside on the risk." He glanced over at Pickett, who scratched his nose complacently and smiled to himself. "I'm talking about synergies between operations. We have a great opportunity here to get in on the ground floor of some exciting new techniques with obvious applications to some of our other ventures. Did you look at the presentation on their surgical results?"<br/>
<br/>
Voss suppressed a rumble in his stomach. "I was having lunch," he muttered.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's pretty gruesome stuff," Jerry agreed. "But if you just look at the before and after pictures." He leaned forward to leaf through the discarded report. "They can take anyone, just about anyone' Wait, it'll be in this folder'" <br/>
<br/>
He clumsily grabbed at a white manila packet, and a stack of slick glossy photographs slid onto the floor. Voss and Pickett exchanged exasperated glances as Jerry, dropping to his knees, scooped them up and kept jabbering.<br/>
<br/>
"They can take two guys, not related in any way, and they, and they ..." He pressed his hands together, the palm of one against the back of the other. "And they can fix them up to look like a third, totally unrelated person. A real person too, you know, so close that, that'"<br/>
<br/>
"We already have guys who can do that kind of work," Voss rumbled. "For a lot cheaper too. I'm not financing a hospital."<br/>
<br/>
"But not as good, but not as good!" Jerry insisted. "They don't just change faces, they make copies of people. Plus they've also made huge strides in muscle enhancement, skin grafting, stem cell therapy'"<br/>
<br/>
"What does that have to do with us," Pickett interrupted. "We're not financing a hospital."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to!" Jerry exclaimed, turning red. "They've already got the goddamn hospital!" He caught himself. "Sorry, I'm sorry. My point is that they've already done all the spadework. Hell, they've got the thing built, wired, and ready for business. All we have to do is give them a little money to carry them through the initial operations'so to speak'and we can leverage it into a controlling interest. We can bring them into our own web of operations. You're right, you're right'" He interrupted Voss's interruption. "We have guys who can do surgeries. But not with this kind of skill, depth, or flexibility. Here, look at this."<br/>
<br/>
He set out five glossies. "This man here is their chief surgeon, the theoretician who invented all their techniques," he said, pointing to the first glossy. "He's not part of the proposal, by the way," he added sharply. "Strictly a front man." He then pointed to the second and third glossies. "This is the head of their recovery unit, and this is their chief orderly, in portraits taken ... um, um, um ... nine months ago, I think. And these'" He pointed to the fourth and fifth photos with a flourish "'are those same two men, the recovery chief and orderly, in portraits taken just last month!"<br/>
<br/>
Voss looked at the first and fourth and fifth portraits carefully. "It's the same goddamn man. Same goddamn photo, too."<br/>
<br/>
"No it isn't, no it isn't!" Jerry grinned. "I met all three in the same room at the same time. Peas in a pod. You can't tell the difference. Thanks to those surgeries, they all look exactly alike."<br/>
<br/>
Voss sighed and pulled his ear. <br/>
<br/>
"Think about what Ralston at Confidence could do with this," Jerry continued. "Or Bankey and Hoarwell."<br/>
<br/>
Voss glanced up. "How long does it take to do these surgeries?"<br/>
<br/>
"Enough to pull off a full substitution? They estimate about six months. Of course, that includes the research and training'"<br/>
<br/>
"Bankey and Hoarwell don't spend that kind of time on a job."<br/>
<br/>
"But they might <i>make</i> time if they knew they had these kinds of possibilities."<br/>
<br/>
Voss pulled on his lip. "Have you talked to them? Bankey or Ralston, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
Jerry shook his head. "Ned ran his numbers so quick'meaning no offense, Ned," he said in a placating tone to his opposite, "that I couldn't put together a full report in time."<br/>
<br/>
Voss peered at Pickett, who was still smirking. "As a standalone operation, what would you think of these Luxe boys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like you said, Franklin, it's the screwiest goddamn proposal we've ever gotten," the financial officer replied. "Each job requires a big outlay for a relatively small return, while running huge and easily foreseeable risks."<br/>
<br/>
"Their infrastructure is already in place," Jerry said. "All they need is money to cover six months to test and refine their business concept."<br/>
<br/>
"Their business concept is screwy," Pickett objected. "They're talking about using teenagers!"<br/>
<br/>
"We know it's screwy," Jerry said. "I haven't said it isn't! I think it's the goddamn screwiest thing too! But if we finance them we can get 51% of their operation'"<br/>
<br/>
"So it's a capital investment," Voss said, "just so we and they are clear on that."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course it is, Franklin," Jerry said. "We're not a bank. We get 51% of their operations, name a board of directors, and then we start hooking them up with Ralston and with Bankey and Hoarwell. Maybe UPGO, too. <br/>
<br/>
Voss chewed on his nail, then tapped the proposal. "I don't like being in business with lunatics, no matter how high-tech the asylum they're running."<br/>
<br/>
"That's why we take control, bring them into our web," Jerry explained. "We get 51%, access to all their tech, their surgeons, the research. Take it out of the legitimate market. And then they just become the support staff for <i>our</i> operations. We design the jobs, provide the agents, run the show."<br/>
<br/>
"Are they so hard up they'd sell control for six months' financing?" Pickett asked skeptically.<br/>
<br/>
Jerry started fiddling with his pen again. "Probably not," he admitted.<br/>
<br/>
Voss took a deep breath and slapped his hand on the table. "Talk to Ralston and the others you think might be interested in these guys and their, uh, their techniques. If they're intrigued, tell these Luxe boys that for what they're asking we'll finance a proof-of-concept project." He jabbed a finger at Jerry. "But Ralston has to ride shotgun with them on it."<br/>
<br/>
"Mike won't want to suspend his jobs for six months," Pickett objected.<br/>
<br/>
"He will unless his 36% of Confidence can magically start outvoting our 55%," Voss snarled. "You also tell these Luxe boys that the financing comes with a one-year option letting us load in at 51%. Ned'll give you the number we'd be offering for that stake. Where are they squatting now?"<br/>
<br/>
"They've just opened their facility in Bayport."<br/>
<br/>
"Bayport?" Voss's laugh was a bark. "What the hell is in Bayport?"<br/>
<br/>
"What the hell is in Bayport?" Pickett echoed.<br/>
<br/>
"It's the new East Hampton," Jerry said. He looked between them. "That's what <i>Vanity Fair</i> says."<br/>
<br/>
Voss and Pickett looked at each other and then back at Jerry. "You read <i>Vanity Fair</i>?" Voss asked incredulously. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Chapter Two: A Sinister Job Offer
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><div align="center">Chapter Two<br/>
A Sinister Job Offer</div><br/>
If anyone could be said to have mastered the art of the aggressive slouch, it was Steve. When slouched on his feet, he suggested a rubber band pulled taut and ready to snap into someone's face. When leaning against a wall he seemed to be grinding it into submission. In a chair he would rock back and forth slowly and mercilessly, making it groan piteously.<br/>
<br/>
He was grinding away now at a cheap folding chair while slouching behind an equally cheap conference table in a dingy white room. His case worker had told him he had a chance at a job if he went down to the strip mall for the interview, but he'd only gone after she threw up her hands and promised to buy him cigarettes. He could pay for his own, but he liked to humiliate her. It made up a little for the humiliation he felt as he glanced around the bare room with its harsh fluorescent light and motivational posters that brimmed with insanely cheerful, toothy models and captioned with vague promises like "Don't just feel like a new person! Become a new person!" and "Change everything!"<br/>
<br/>
He sighed heavily. How long was this going to take? The receptionist had waved him through while Bernita—who'd insisted on coming down with him—filled out his paperwork. It didn't look like a military recruiter—not that the Army would have him. It didn't look like anything. There were no books or papers or magazines, and even the clock on the wall had been unplugged. He slouched lower, crossed his arms, and pushed up the sleeve of his dirty white t-shirt to rub a hard bicep. He had a tattoo there. He clamped his hand around it, framing it so that the interviewer, when he came in, would instantly understand what kind of a badass he was dealing with.<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later, the door opened. Steve threw his head back and peered up at the guy with an insolently hooded gaze. It took only a fraction of a second to take him in: the light-brown, feathered hair; the sharp blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones; the blinding smile. He was a total pretty boy and more than a little girlish. The corner of Steve's mouth curled up in a sneer, and he turned away to grin into the far corner of the room. <br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Carson," the interviewer said brightly, ignoring his visitor's ostentatious sneer. He stuck out his hand. Steve glanced down at it and looked away again without stirring. There was a fraction of a pause, and the interviewer withdrew his handshake. But neither his smile nor his bright, happy eyes dimmed. He took the chair opposite Steve and set down a plain white binder. "My name is Todd Barnes. I understand you're interested in taking a job with us."<br/>
<br/>
"My case worker's interested in me taking a job with you," Steve replied. "Me? I could give a shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, as a matter of fact, I was going to tell you that you and your, uh, case worker have been a little misinformed," Barnes said, his sleek enthusiasm undaunted. "You see, Luxe Systems isn't offering you a job. We are offering you nothing less than a new life. Joining us won't be like changing your vocation. It will make you a new person!"<br/>
<br/>
Steve's mouth fell open slightly. He stared hard at the man opposite him, but he seemed to be in earnest; nothing in his eyes suggested he was joking or less than blindingly sincere. After a few seconds, he found he couldn't even bear to look in the man's face. "Look, sorry to waste your time. But I kinda like the life I got, so—"<br/>
<br/>
"You must joking," Barnes said with a concerned frown. "Because from what Bernita has told us it sounds like you are a perfect candidate for one of our solutions."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, there's more deserving guys than me out there, believe me," Steve said. He leaned forward. "So, I think you should take your perfect solution and—"<br/>
<br/>
"If I can get you to just hang out with me for a few more minutes, Steve," Barnes hurriedly said. "Steve? Can I call you Steve? I've got a few things I'd like to show you." He opened the binder and turned it so Steve could see its contents. "Do you see this house, Steve? Do you like this house? Don't you wish you could have a house like this?"<br/>
<br/>
Steve glanced down at the huge color photograph. It was a nice house, to be sure: one of those McMansions like they put up in nice subdivisions. There were three cars—a little sports car, a minivan, and a pickup truck—parked in front of it. "Yeah, it's nice," he muttered and tried to push the binder away. Was this a job interview or was he being given some kind of weird sales hustle?<br/>
<br/>
"What about the truck," asked Barnes eagerly. "Do you like the truck? You could have one just like it. We could arrange for that. In fact, if you wanted, we could arrange for you to have that truck right there."<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome," said Steve. "But you can keep it for yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"How about this fellow here?" Barnes flipped the page. A teenager, only a few years younger than Steve himself, looked back out of the photo. He was clean cut and well groomed and had the vacant, dippy smile of a kid who'd never missed a meal or had an unkind word said to him. "Do you think he's good looking? Would you like to look like him?" There was a wheedling, pleading tone in Barnes' voice.<br/>
<br/>
Steve froze. He looked up slowly from the Stepford kid to Barnes. There was a sweaty, desperate look in the man's eye. Steve held his glance, and saw a chance to make a little money off the wasted day.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I won't be seventeen for another two months," he said softly and maliciously. It was a lie—he was almost twenty-one—but he looked young for his age and enjoyed the idea of running a hard bluff on this asshole. "And I got a government case worker sitting out in your lobby. All I gotta do is go out and tell her that this place is full of baby-fuckers and pedophiles who are trying to get me to do something really gay, and <i>bam</i>--!" He jammed a hard fist into the palm of his other hand. "There goes your company, and <i>you've</i> got yourself some hard time. And not in the juvenile section either." He chewed on the inside of his cheek hungrily. "So, let's see how much cash you're carrying right now. A credit card might be nice too, if you want me to be extra forgetful."<br/>
<br/>
Barnes' face screwed up. "I'm really sorry you feel this way, Steve," he said. He twisted at his fingers and stood up. "I tell you what," he continued in a wet, worried tone and leaned across the table. "Let me say just one more thing and—"<br/>
<br/>
Steve's world suddenly turned very white and then very black, and then settled on a somber, smoky red. A pain like a long needle shot through his temple into his left eye; spidery cracks of fire spread under his face. The man was fast; Steve had barely time to see his hand move before it broke across his brow. He hunched forward, nursing the side of his face, and glared up at the interviewer.<br/>
<br/>
Barnes twisted the ring on his right hand so that the large, sharp stone was again turned out from his palm. His face was a mask as he returned Steve's glare with an impassive glance of his own.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't hit you, Steve," he said quietly, and his tone was much firmer now. It had none of the wheedling quality he'd walked in with. It was cool and hard and remorseless, like the leading face of a glacier. "I know it felt like I hit you. But I didn't hit you or strike you or slap you. I just got your attention. That's all."<br/>
<br/>
He stepped around to Steve's side of the table and leaned against it; Steve recognized it as the pose of a man utterly confident in himself.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me say just one more thing," Barnes repeated in the same soft voice. "You have a choice. One of three destinies opens to you after today. You can leave this room and go back to your current life. Your ratty little one-room apartment with the government case worker and the government check. You can get a dead-end job and collect a new set of dead-end friends. Start making and dealing and taking meth. Stick up a convenience store when you need money for that poker game that will pay for the week's food and liquor. Get caught and go to jail. <br/>
<br/>
"Or you can straighten up and fly right. Start saying your prayers and going to church. Take a community college course that'll put you in an oil change shop or on a construction crew. Find a nice girl who's not too ugly and who is desperate enough to take a gamble on you. Die a little each day before you finally expire of boredom."<br/>
<br/>
Barnes leaned forward, so that his voice was a near-whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"Or you can get in on one of the biggest and baddest swindles ever. A crime for the centuries that will set you for life. Because it <i>will be</i> a new life for you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Chapter Three: A Hospital of Horrors
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><div align="center">Chapter Three<br/>
A Hospital of Horrors</div><br/>
"He don't say nothin' 'bout this?" Mike waved his hand in front of his own face and cocked his head at the retreating back of Dr. Gleckman. <br/>
<br/>
"As a matter of fact, Dr. Gleckman performed the surgery himself," replied Dr. Dubois with a smile that had nothing to do with her eyes. "It was his own idea to give all our senior associates a standardized look, to demonstrate the subtlety, precision, and craft inherent in his procedures."<br/>
<br/>
"So who had the face first," Mike asked. He clicked his tongue and hooked a thumb at the man standing next to him. "'Cos this guy here's the fourth goombah—excuse me, <i>senior associate</i>—I seen walking around with the same face as your Dr. Gleckman."<br/>
<br/>
"Dr. Gleckman has his original face," she replied. "I suggested he model our associates' look after his own."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"As a kind of advertisement that would firmly associate the Luxe Clinic and its revolutionary techniques with himself."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well," Mike said in a much lower voice. "If that option gets picked up, you're gonna hafta put a stop to all that advertisin'. You get me, doc?"<br/>
<br/>
Her smile widened by a fraction of a millimeter. "Of course."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Now this thing here." He gestured at the tank and at the gauzy, palm-sized flap of skin wafting in the currents of a transparent liquid. "Is that a little bit of Gleckman too? Because it don't look too human."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a foundation layer used to bind the patient's own fine structures to the subcutaneous implants—"<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa whoa whoa," Mike said, holding out his hands. "Words of less than twenty syllables, please. Is that thing a face?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's part of one," she said in a pained voice. "Perhaps you'd be more interested in the software."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah I think so." He looked around; it was a very large room filled with lots of tanks which had lots of pale and ochre and bloody red bits floating in them. "Some of this stuff is giving me a queasy tummy. And I used to work in a hot dog factory. Inna summer." He slapped the male attendant playfully in the chest and gave him a meaningful glance. "You know nine outta ten guys what work in meat packing are vegan?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're full of shit," the very pretty male attendant replied. "I used to work for the Bonanno family, you know."<br/>
<br/>
Mike blinked. "Face work?"<br/>
<br/>
"I carved a few guys up, but it wasn't their faces. Unless my shovel slipped."<br/>
<br/>
"And this," said Dr. Dubois in a loud voice as she led them up to a monitor, "is a station where our clientele can custom-design their own faces. Naturally," she added, "we don't show them in here—" She gestured at the room and its gruesome contents. "But we can call up the same data and routines. Suppose, Mr. Ralston—"<br/>
<br/>
"Mike. Please."<br/>
<br/>
"Suppose, uh, Mike, that you wanted a new face."<br/>
<br/>
"And why would I want that?" he laughed. "Any guy who wants a new face should have his head examined."<br/>
<br/>
There was a fractional pause filled with the sound of humming electricity.<br/>
<br/>
"Suppose you wanted a new face," Dubois repeated. "First, what racial classification? Caucasian, Asian, African—"<br/>
<br/>
"You can make me out like I'm from China?"<br/>
<br/>
"Certainly. Or Kenya."<br/>
<br/>
Mike gave a low whistle. "Well, let's keep it simple. Italian."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh." She punched some keys and tapped the screen. A bland and generic face appeared. "Eyes bigger or smaller?"<br/>
<br/>
"Bigger. Bigger. Yeah, like that. A little closer together? Whoa."<br/>
<br/>
"Nose longer or shorter?"<br/>
<br/>
They continued like this, with Mike growing happier and more excited, and Dubois quieter and colder. When Mike pronounced himself satisfied with the design she regarded it stoically. "Well, we can't say you don't know your own face," she observed. The face he had designed was a dead match for the one he already had.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know. I like how it is now. What can I say?" He shrugged. "We've grown close over the years."<br/>
<br/>
"The point is, we could make almost anyone look like you."<br/>
<br/>
"You know, that would be a neat trick," he mused. "Kidnap 'em, cut 'em to look like me, then charge 'em an arm and a leg to change back."<br/>
<br/>
"In the next room," she said, and her heels clicked on the floor like ice cubes knocking against the sides of a cold glass, "I can show you the instruments we use to make 3D composite images of the patients' faces ..."<br/>
<br/>
The tour continued in this way for several hours. At its conclusion, Dubois and Mike stood on a balcony overlooking a line of downs that fell away toward the ocean.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you think, Mr. Ralston?"<br/>
<br/>
His expression, which had been blank and noncommittal, grew amused. "I dunno why you're askin' me again. I already got you your money from Jerry."<br/>
<br/>
"I value your input, and not just because Mr. Bonderberg insisted I consult with you. With the financing you arranged, we're supposed to pull off a job like we described in our prospectus."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you're asking what I think about your business proposal." He shook his head. "It's the goddamn screwiest thing I ever read."<br/>
<br/>
"But you still recommended us." <br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I can use the stuff you showed me. What <i>you're</i> planning to do with it ... Eh, that's a little sketchier."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't believe we can pull off those kinds of substitutions?"<br/>
<br/>
"People can be blind, doctor, but I also seen 'em pick up the strangest vibes. They can look at two identical fakes. Be totally fooled by one, but see through the other one—" He clapped his hands together. "Like your boss and his, uh, senior associates. Exactly alike, but the fake will never know what could trip him up."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're not impressed by our idea for using the children as entry points."<br/>
<br/>
He chewed his cheek in a way that looked like a lopsided grin. "You see, there's where my intuition breaks down. That's either a screwball too far ... or that's where you hit it outta the park. I ain't made up my mind on that. I won't know until you try."<br/>
<br/>
She winced. "I was hoping for advice that was more solid. We have a long list of prospects and have started recruiting agents. This is the point where you could make a big difference."<br/>
<br/>
He thought for a very long time, watching the distant, silent waves and the rustle of grass and leaves. Eventually something seemed to click for him. "Yeah, I can tell you where to steer." He took out a business card. "How come you picked Bayport?" he asked as he wrote on its back.<br/>
<br/>
"It's the new East Hampton."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you read that article too. Yeah, I pulled a job out here not long ago. Had to cut it short before we reeled in our catch." He handed her the card. "You know them?"<br/>
<br/>
She read what he'd written and nodded. "Local celebrities, yes." She looked at him over the top of her glasses. "They're why you had to cut that job short?"<br/>
<br/>
"A contributing factor." He pointed to the card. "They're the reason Bayport ain't where you should make your play." To her querying look he explained why, then added, "But if it's gotta be here, you gotta find some way to handle them. And if you really want to impress me and Bonderberg and the bigger boys behind us, find a way of doing it using your sausage makers in there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Chapter Four: Dossiers of Doom
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><div align="center">Chapter Four<br/>
Dossiers of Doom</div><br/>
"He looks like a goddamn faggot." <br/>
<br/>
Barnes let a little half-smile play on his lips. "He has a girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"He still looks like a goddamn faggot."<br/>
<br/>
Barnes pushed the file aside and opened another one.<br/>
<br/>
"Faggot."<br/>
<br/>
The third folder.<br/>
<br/>
"Faggot."<br/>
<br/>
Barnes scratched an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to work for us?"<br/>
<br/>
"Show me someone who doesn't look like a faggot."<br/>
<br/>
"I think they're all going to look like faggots to you, Carson," sighed the other man in the room. He looked just like Barnes—in fact, he'd introduced himself as "Todd Barnes," just like Steve's first friend. The two looked so much alike that Steve couldn't tell them apart, even up close. The second one frowned more often, though, so Steve thought of him as "Sourpuss." Both of them, though, were "Fuckface" in his very private book of thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
"What my colleague means," said Barnes, "is that these boys have all had a rather privileged upbringing. Their parents are all extremely well-off. They are smart, hard-working kids. They get good grades, do lots of extra-curricular activities. They're popular with their peers, who are also hard-working, good-grade-getting types. They are all going to be good, well-scrubbed, and mostly obedient teenagers."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I said," said Steve with a half-sneer. "Faggots."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," Barnes sighed. He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. "But remember, we're asking you to be a ... a faggot ... for only a few weeks. After that, you can quit."<br/>
<br/>
"With my share of the loot."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course."<br/>
<br/>
Steve scratched his chin. If these guys were on the level—and everything they'd shown him in the place suggested they were—then this could be a really sweet deal. He flipped past the picture that lay atop the still open file. Underneath was a large picture of a very big house. It was more than a McMansion: it sat on huge acreage, and the aerial view showed not one but two Olympic-sized outdoor pools. He flipped to the next page in the file: a family photo showing the "faggot" with his parents and a girl who looked to be in middle school.<br/>
<br/>
Steve scratched his head. This was the part that he wasn't so clear on.<br/>
<br/>
"This guy," he said, waving vaguely at the family photo. "How am I supposed to fool his family?"<br/>
<br/>
"We've got a dossier on him, as we have on all the prospects," said Barnes. "All the facts that are on public file, plus a few of the private ones. Everything from his hospital files to newspaper clippings about his piano recitals."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't play the piano," Steve said in alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just offering a hypothetical," said Barnes. "Obviously, we'll do a deeper check on whatever prospect you settle on, to make sure there aren't any serious problems like that. After you've picked someone, we'll hack into their emails, Facebook, cell phones; anything that leaves a record of what they say and what they think and how they act. It will take several months of intense study, but you will train and familiarize yourself with every aspect we can uncover about the target."<br/>
<br/>
"There are also certain psychological techniques we can train you in," Sourpuss chimed in. "We've picked the teenagers as targets rather than the adults because teenagers are ... Well, let's just say most teenagers are moody and unpredictable, so anything they do out of character can be written off as 'hormones.' You'd have to act a little bit like a 'faggot,' Carson, but you should also mix it up a little. Fights, slammed doors, rocketing off in your car, back talk. Nothing to break the illusion. Just enough to keep them off balance and prepared to write off your mistakes as 'mood'."<br/>
<br/>
Steve flipped idly through the folder, then closed it and returned to the first folder. The guy in this one was well-scrubbed like the others. He had a broad forehead and eyes that sloped lazily down at the corners, giving him a slightly sleepy look. His mouth and nose were well-formed, and he had a broad, confident smile. His polo shirt was open at the collar, showing a solid neck flanked by strong muscles. <br/>
<br/>
"You said this fucker had a girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
Barnes flipped a few pages, until they came to a large photograph of a cheerful girl with long blond hair. She tilted her head coquettishly and flashed a dazzling smile, and raised her arms and legs in something that looked like a cheerleader pose. Steve felt a quickening in his cock, and gave a low whistle. He tapped the folder thoughtfully. "This is a possibility."<br/>
<br/>
The door opened and the female doctor came in. He'd only met her once, during the second tour, where she had followed the group, listening to his questions and murmuring to a <i>third</i> Barnes. She was short and severe, with unsmiling eyes behind her very large glasses. Only once had she spoken, when he flexed his bicep and compared it to the ugly, skinless thing growing on some scaffolding in a vat of liquid. "The tattoo will have to come off," was all she'd said in a flat, slightly nasally voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got another one I'd like you to take a look at," she said now without any reintroduction or acknowledgement, and slapped a slim folder down on the desk in front of him. "I think he'd make a better fit for you. Not nearly as faggoty."<br/>
<br/>
Steve started a bit, to realize that his words and reactions were being monitored and probably recorded. But he opened the folder, and stared down at the picture in disbelief.<br/>
<br/>
"This is a girl!" he exclaimed.<br/>
<br/>
"No, he's just fifteen years old," said the doctor in her adenoidal whine. "A little young, but within range. He's also an outdoorsy type, lots of energy and stamina, can't sit still. Bit of a smart aleck too, it seems. Can easily pass as a trouble maker."<br/>
<br/>
Steve sucked on his cheeks. It really was just a kid. Thick, almost wiry blonde hair sticking out in lots of angles and curling at the end; not longish, exactly, but in the back it fell to the top of his neck. His smile was sharp and his eyes gleamed with mischief. He'd struck a boxer's pose and was pretending to jab the camera with one of his hands. He wore a navy-blue sleeveless sweatshirt with "BAYPORT'S BEST" stenciled in white letters across the front. <br/>
<br/>
Sourpuss glanced up skeptically to the doctor. "You really want to do this job? You want <i>Carson</i> for it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Personality wise, it's a better match than the others," she sniffed. "You heard him. The others are too faggoty. This one is a little less so than the others. Pay is better, too."<br/>
<br/>
Steve's ears perked up. "Really? They must really be loaded, then."<br/>
<br/>
"No," said the doctor. "But you'd get a special rate that would net you more. That's because there are special challenges." She paused, and her cold eyes held his. "You're ambitious, aren't you, Carson? You like a good challenge, right?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111111112
author_id: imaj
title: How Rick Got His Knife Back
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You turn to a page at random, revealing a short story handwritten in a neat, cursive script:<br/>
<br/>
<b>How Rick Got His Knife Back</b><br/>
<br/>
By Kalliope Valentine<br/>
<br/>
Rick Bredon woke up screaming.  That wasn’t unusual for him.  Sometimes his dreams helped him solve cases.  Other times they gave him a glimpse of things best left unseen.  The only mercy was that they faded quickly and even now Rick couldn’t quite remember what it was that sparked his night terror.<br/>
<br/>
The seedy motel room was dark, which was how Rick liked it:  The better to hide the unpleasant markings that hinted at the room’s sordid past.  Little shafts of light were creeping past the blinds though, illuminating motes of dust as they danced in the air.  That meant it was probably time to get up.<br/>
<br/>
Rick reached over to the bedside table, grasping for the reassuring weight of his knife.  His last defence against the monsters that stalked his dream.  He closed his hand around the hilt and felt nothing.  No knife, no hilt, just a knife shaped space atop the table.<br/>
<br/>
Rick shot upright.  His eyes darted round the room.  No knife in the back of the door.  No knife by his battered suitcase.  No knife on top of the television.<br/>
<br/>
“Squirt,” hollered Rick.  “Squirt!”<br/>
<br/>
The Squirt burst in through the door, gasping anxiously.  “What is it Rick,” he asked, his demeanour not unlike that of a startled rabbit.  “Are we being attacked?”<br/>
<br/>
“Have you seen my knife,” asked Rick.  “I left it here.”  He gestured at the knife shaped gap on top of the bedside table.<br/>
<br/>
“No I uh…,” began the Squirt.  “Oh, hey, there’s a note on the door.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick could see that now, with the door open and all.  It was a grubby bit of paper taped to the door at head height, covered in messy, scrawling, writing.  The Squirt grabbed the note, scanning it briefly before handing it over to Rick.<br/>
<br/>
“You better read this,” said the Squirt.<br/>
<br/>
Rick frowned as he examined the note.  Between the darkness of the room and the appalling penmanship, it was difficult to read.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dear Rick</i>, the note began.  <i>I have your knife.  If you want it back, bring Miko Toyotomi to Jötunheimr so I can marry her.  Thanks in advance, Thrym.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Christ Squirt,” muttered Rick, rubbing his hand over his dry mouth.  “Miko’s gonna kill me if I drag her into this.  You have any idea how hard it is to get there?”<br/>
<br/>
The Squirt shook his head.  He did not, only being a junior member of the Stellae.<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, simple solution:  You do the old shapeshifter shuffle, turn into Miko.  I take you to Jötunheimr and we trick the dumb giant into giving me my knife back.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can’t” squeaked the Squirt nervously.  “Last time I turned into Miko I got sedated.  If I turn into her I’ll have to sleep it off for a day and a half first.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick grunted unhappily.  He’d just have to suck it up and ask Miko<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, hey,” said the Squirt, interrupting Rick’s chain of thought.  “I saw a bridal boutique round the corner though…”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Rick had never felt more ridiculous than he felt right now, covered from head to toe in bridal white.  Even the little monsters that Eldibria sent to watch him, the ones he kept on catching in the corner of his eyes, were too busy laughing at Rick to menace him.<br/>
<br/>
“Relax,” drawled the Squirt in an unconvincing SoCal accent.  “I’ve ,like, <i>totally </i>got this.”  She rapped sharply on the heavy wooden door - the very big, very heavy, wooden door.<br/>
<br/>
There was a padding sound behind the door, one of very heavy feet moving about.  Then it swung open and Thrym bent over to look at the two interlopers at his threshold.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi, I’m Jenny Watanabe,” drawled the squirt.  “I’m Miko’s cousin.  Uh… Like her, uh, American cousin.  And also, uh, bridesmaid.  Rick couldn’t make it so he sent me.”<br/>
<br/>
The giant stared at Rick with beady little eyes.  Little for a giant, at least.  He stared at the ill fitting white dress.  He stared at the veil, and he peered round and stared at Rick stringy, messy hair.<br/>
<br/>
“What happened to her hair,” asked Thrym.<br/>
<br/>
The Squirt’s eyes went wide as saucers.  “Don’t bring it up,” she squealed.  “Miko was, uh, like <i>so </i>keen to make a good impression.  This is like, uh, supposed to be the happiest day of her life but the stylist <i>ruined </i>her hair.  <i>So </i>sad.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, right,” grumbled the giant.  “Sorry Miko.  Why don’t you come in, we’ve got the wedding feast ready for you.”<br/>
<br/>
The giant stood back up to his full height and beckoned Rick and the Squirt inside.  A large table was set out in the middle of the room, a dozen or so places already set.  In the middle, a huge roasted boar awaited the beginning of the festivities.  Thryn led Rick to a too big seat at one end of the table before turning to walk away.<br/>
<br/>
“Like, where do you think you're going,” shouted the squirt.<br/>
<br/>
Thrym turned back round, deeply puzzled.<br/>
<br/>
“You need to, uh, help Miko into her chair,” explained the Squirt.  “And then, like, sit next to her.  And, uh, hold her hand.  It’s like a <i>totally </i>important Japanese tradition.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” rumbled the giant.  “I didn’t know.”  He pulled out the chair and allowed Rick to sit down in it.  Ricks legs dangled in the air, not long enough to reach the ground from the oversized chair.<br/>
<br/>
“Her left hand,” added the Squirt as Thrym made to sit down on Rick’s right.  “I, uh, like, sit on her left.  It’s <i>totally </i>a bridesmaid thing.”<br/>
<br/>
Thrym seemed to accept this and sat down on Rick’s right hand side.  He grabbed Rick’s left hand in his own, which made it seem very dainty in comparison.  “Can I get you a drink my love,” he asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Scotch,” muttered Rick.  “The good stuff.”<br/>
<br/>
Thrym looked at the Squirt.  “What’s wrong with her voice?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, Miko was, like, <i>totally </i>screaming and bawling,” explained the Squirt.  “She was, uh, <i>so </i>afraid Rick would come and steal his knife back before she could, like, marry you.  Her throat is, like, <i>totally </i>sore.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh you poor thing,” said Thrym, gazing longingly at Rick’s eyes through the veil he wore.  “You shall have a bottle of our finest Scotch.”  The giant let go of Rick and clapped his hands.  Half a dozen other giants emerged from doorways.  Most sat down at the table, but one placed a bottle of amber liquid in front of Rick before he disappeared back where he came from.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you,” squeaked Rick in falsetto.<br/>
<br/>
Ricked grabbed the bottle with one hand and unscrewed it as fast as he was able.  He didn’t bother with a glass.  He just stuffed the bottle up underneath his veil and slugged half of it down in one go.<br/>
<br/>
Thrym gave the Squirt a questioning look.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, Miko is, like, <i>so </i>thirsty from the trip here,” explained the Squirt.<br/>
<br/>
“Um, makes sense?  I guess,” said the giant.  He raised his own drinking horn.  “Now we feast in honour of my marriage.”  The other giants at the table shouted their approval.<br/>
<br/>
“Stop right there,” interrupted the Squirt.  “Maybe that’s, like, how you do things here in Jötunheimr, but in Japan we, uh, give the bride her wedding gift first.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wedding gift,” asked Thrym, puzzled again.<br/>
<br/>
“A knife is, like, traditional,” explained the Squirt.<br/>
<br/>
Thrym clapped his hands once more.  The giant servant bustled into the room again and placed Rick’s knife on the table.  Thrym grabbed Rick’s left hand again and squeezed.  “There you are my love!  Can we feast now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Wait a moment,” answered Rick, still in falsetto.  He grabbed his knife with his free hand.  It felt good. Like a missing part of him had been returned.  “Yeah,” he added, his voice in its normal register.  “We’re done here.”<br/>
<br/>
Rick slipped his left hand from the giant’s grasp.  He stabbed the giant’s hand with his knife and pinned it to the table.  Thrym screamed in agony, the noise reverberated in the vast hall.  Rick tore away his veil and jumped up onto the table.  He kicked Thrym in the face, retrieved his knife from the giant's hand and then buried it in Thrym’s oversized eye socket.<br/>
<br/>
Rick turned round to face the rest of the guests.  The other giants had risen from their seats and their hands were grasping at the weapons on their belts.<br/>
<br/>
“I am having a really bad day,” growled Rick.  “Anyone else want to end up like Blinky over here?”<br/>
<br/>
The other giants turned and fled.<br/>
<br/>
Rick pulled his knife from Thrym’s still twitching corpse.  “So help me Squirt, if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone else…”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
And the story ends abruptly right there.  You’ve never read anything like it, yet it somehow seems strangely familiar.<br/>
<br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211111112
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 1
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You almost flip past the next page, for it's in a non-Roman script that marches down its length in narrow columns. But you pause long enough to study the lettering. It consists of thin, elegant line strokes—Chinese or Japanese.<br/>
<br/>
You're about to continue when a word catches your eye: <i>girlfriend.</i> <br/>
<br/>
But wait: How do you know it says "girlfriend"? The script isn't Roman, and the language isn't English. <br/>
<br/>
A chill runs through you as your eye drifts up and down the columns, picking out words you shouldn't be able to read: <i>locker, voice, door, shrank.</i> Names, too: <i>Taniguchi Hayato, Ota Gorou, Sugawara Momoka.</i> <br/>
<br/>
Then they start coming together to make sentences. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
Sano Sota was changing books in his school locker when he was very rudely punched in the back of the head by another student.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Please do not let it be Ota Gorou,</i> he prayed as he flinched under the blow. <i>If it is Taniguchi Hayato, maybe he will content himself with one blow. If it is Hayato's girlfriend Yuuna, she will certainly be gone before I turn around. Even if it is Akiko—</i><br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you hear what I said, you little bitch?" a hoarse voice shouted, and Sota shrank up just as another blow smashed his face into his locker door. "How many times must I say it?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's so rude," a girl snickered. "Come on, Sota. Hayato's waiting for you."<br/>
<br/>
A sinewy arm grasped Sota about the neck and hauled him away from his locker. Sota slumped compliantly as he was forced to march along in front of his tormentors.<br/>
<br/>
None of the other students met his eye, but they parted silently to let him pass.<br/>
<br/>
At the school's central stairwell, Sota started to turn into the main corridor, but a rough hand yanked him back. "Not that way, asshole," Ota Gorou rasped. "Downstairs, to your fucking filthy hidey-hole." Sota sagged, and pulled open a door that led to the school basement.<br/>
<br/>
Yellow lights flickered and buzzed inside metal brackets as the three students plunged down stairs made of flaking concrete. A stench of grease and dirt rose to meet them. Gorou grasped Sota by the shoulder and steered him between tottering towers of old desks and chairs. The girl—Ueno Akiko—clucked her tongue. "What a pig sty."<br/>
<br/>
"Fits a filthy little pig like Sota," Gorou snickered. "Isn't that right, bitch?" He shoved Sota.<br/>
<br/>
Finally they came to the furthest corner of the basement, where a dirty window let some natural light fall onto the stained concrete floor. It was a corner that Sota knew well, for it was a spot he sneaked off to every chance he got. To escape his teachers, to escape his classes, and most of all to escape his fellow students.<br/>
<br/>
But today there were three of them waiting in his sanctuary. The two girls— Sugawara Momoka and Ishida Yuuna—stood in the middle of the floor, with their feet together and their arms folded, so as not to accidentally brush against any grime. Momoka peered up timidly at Sota from behind her glasses; Yuuna scowled down at him from her great height. But the boy, Taniguchi Hayato, slouched against a wall, unmindful of the dirt rubbing onto his school blazer. He was leafing through a manga. <br/>
<br/>
Sota's eyes darted over to the box where he kept his books. The lid was up.<br/>
<br/>
He was met with silence, and in the silence he began to tremble. He was alone, in a place no one could hear him if he yelled, surrounded by the five officers of the Elite Funtime Club—the most feared students at his school!<br/>
<br/>
"You're a degenerate," Hayato said at last without looking up from the book. He was the tallest of the club members, and at fourteen he was the oldest. He was also the star of the soccer field as well as being the most academically excellent student, so when he called himself the president of the club, no one argued with him. He frosted his hair a platinum blonde but didn't care when the dark roots began to show.<br/>
<br/>
"You're a fucking degenerate," Hayato repeated, and he flung the manga in Sota's face. The sharp corner hit the unfortunate boy just under the eye, and he cried out softly. "You jack off while looking at pictures of little boys," Hayato continued. "Cartoon boys, too." It was only a <i>One Piece</i> manga, but Sota knew better than to contradict Hayato.<br/>
<br/>
"We always knew you were disgusting," Yuuna sneered. Like the others members of the Elite Funtime Club she got away with all manner of cruelty. In her case it was because she was rich and beautiful. Most of her hair was done up in a single long ponytail, but some trailed down the side of her face past her shoulders to rest on her large bosom. Her blazer was specially made for her—not like the school-issued uniforms that Sota and the other students made due with—and there was real gold thread running through braiding. She was almost as tall as Hayato, and she peered down her nose—which was wrinkled with disgust—at Sota.<br/>
<br/>
"So we finally decided to do something about it," put in Akiko, who was still standing next to Gorou.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>I</i> decided to do something about it," Hayato corrected her. She scowled but didn't contradict him. She was a tomboy, the star of the track team, and she bullied every girl (except Yuuna) at school, but even she wouldn't stand up to Hayato. <br/>
<br/>
"So you're into magic and fantasy and shit like that," Gorou rasped out. He wasn't any taller than Sota, but his scowl made other students shy away from him. Those who didn't back off got acquainted with his knuckles, which could crack a cheek open when he threw a fist. Though he was only thirteen, he drove himself to school—the only student who did—and he smoked openly in front of the teachers between classes. "Momoka," he said, and snapped his fingers at the fifth member of the club.<br/>
<br/>
She was the only one who didn't seem to fit with the others. She was small, and her large, dark eyes were magnified by her large, round glasses. Those and her overbite made her look like a scholarly woodchuck. She was pudgy all over, with dimpled knees that showed between her stockings and the hem of her heavy woolen skirt. She tied her hair up in pink ribbons. But even if her prim and mousy appearance didn't mark her off from the other Elite Funtime students, her attitude would have. She hardly ever smiled, and she usually looked out at the world with an expression of wet worry. She spoke in a small voice, and while the others sneered and jeered at their victims, she actually looked ashamed.<br/>
<br/>
But still she helped them. From her book bag she now drew out a dumpy book with floppy covers, like a Bible, and handed it to Gorou.<br/>
<br/>
But Hayato jerked it out of his hand and passed it to Yuuna. "Here, you do it," he said. Yuuna gave him a dirty look, but opened the book.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to draw a circle," she declared in a loud voice. "Who brought the chalk?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay, I've got some," Hayato grumbled. He dug about inside a pocket.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck this magic shit," Gorou said. "Let's just shove it up this cocksucker's ass like a suppository." Hayato slapped him on the back of the head, and he cried out. "Fucker!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota finally found his voice, though his mouth was parched with fear. "What are you going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're into magic," Yuuna sneered. "We're going to summon a demon, let him have some fun with you."<br/>
<br/>
Sota bolted for the door. "Catch him!" Hayato yelled.<br/>
<br/>
Gorou was too slow, but Akiko grabbed Sota by the hair as he ran past. He squealed and stumbled. She kicked his feet out from under him, and he flopped onto the hard, cold floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone sit on him," Hayato said. "You, Gorou." He snapped his fingers. Gorou cursed, but sat on Sota's chest. He leered down at him and slapped his cheeks.<br/>
<br/>
Sota shut his eyes and tried to ignore what was going on around him, as Hayato and Yuuna were arguing about how to pronounce some of the words, and Akiko cursed at them for rubbing out part of the chalk circle she was trying to draw.<br/>
<br/>
Gorou suddenly barked, "Pay attention, asshole!" and he smacked Sota hard across the face. Tears stung his eyes as he opened them, but through the bleary streaks he saw that candles had been arranged around the circle.<br/>
<br/>
"Get out of there, man," Hayato said, "unless you want to be cursed too," and Gorou jumped up. But he jabbed a finger at Sota. "Stay there if you don't want to die."<br/>
<br/>
Sota kept very still and did not dare shut his eyes again as Yuuna went into a droning chant. It seemed to drag on forever, but when she stopped Akiko said, "Is that it? What happens now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," Hayato said, and he kicked Sota in the side of the head. "It's all bullshit. But now this creep knows he's cursed. Come on." He sauntered off, and after a moment the others followed. Out of the corner of his eye, Sota saw Momoka turn and give him what looked like a pitying glance.<br/>
<br/>
When the basement door clanged shut, Sota sat up and hugged his knees to his chest. His chest ached with unshed tears. Truly he was the unluckiest of boys! He only wished to be left alone with his books and his daydreams. Why did they hate him for it? He didn't trouble anyone. He knew he wasn't popular, and he didn't try to be.<br/>
<br/>
A hot gust of air made him shiver, and he wiped his eye to clear his vision.<br/>
<br/>
But when he looked again, he found his vision still blurred. A gray, misty figure was bowing over him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111111121
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sota scrambled back and rubbed his eyes. The wall behind the figure sprang into sharp focus, but the figure itself remained foggy. It was shaped something like a person cloaked and hooded in voluminous robes. These streamed away behind, as though it were standing in a strong wind. Indeed, with its muffled head bowed forward it looked like a beggar man bracing against a gale.<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?" Sota croaked.<br/>
<br/>
"Be quiet," the figure said. Its voice was indistinct, as though it were shouting over a hurricane. "Listen carefully! I will curse you if you do not do exactly as I say!" When Sota made no reply, for his tongue was numb, the figure said, "Do you want to be cursed?"<br/>
<br/>
Sota shook his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Good! Now listen! There is a fragment of chalk by your right hand! Pick it up, but do not smudge the circle!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota could hardly tear his eyes off the ghostly figure in its billowing robes, but looked away long enough to find a bit of chalk, hardly bigger than his fingernail, just outside the chalk circle. He gingerly picked it up.<br/>
<br/>
"Very good! No draw a line from the circle to— To where my feet are," the figure stammered.<br/>
<br/>
Sota saw now that the figure was floating just outside the circle. It had no feet, and it wasn't touching the ground, but he obeyed and drew a thin, wavering line of chalk to just under the thing. He gritted his teeth as he did so, and was very careful not to touch it or the line he was drawing.<br/>
<br/>
"Very good! Now draw another line, parallel to the first!" Sota complied. "Now draw a small circle that connects them at the end!"<br/>
<br/>
"What will happen?" Sota asked.<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind! Do you want to be cursed?" the figure demanded in a voice that was like thunder rolling from far below the horizon. Sota quickly drew a small circle.<br/>
<br/>
The figure rushed at him, and for a moment he was wrapped in a suffocating fog. The air boiled about him, and a hard sweat broke out on his brow.<br/>
<br/>
Then the mist vanished, and once again he was alone in the basement. He hugged himself and looked about fretfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, that's much better," said a soft, squishy voice directly in his ear, and he jumped. "Careful!" the voice said. "Blow those candles out before you knock one over and set this place on fire!"<br/>
<br/>
"Where are you?" Sota bleated.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm inside you," said the soft, squishy voice. "That's what the spell was supposed to do, but those—" It made a long, horrible noise full of g's and z's mixed with sounds like bones breaking and eyeballs popping. "I don't understand," Sota stammered.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I forgot, you don't speak the language of Hell," said the voice. "I suppose you'd translate it as 'assholes', but with words meaning 'lava' and 'geyser' mixed in. I said that those assholes, erm, fucked up the spell."<br/>
<br/>
"So now I'm cursed?" Sota wailed.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, I suppose you are," said the squishy voice, "but only if I <i>want</i> to curse you. Which I don't. I mean, I do, that's what we demons do, we curse people. But I'm cursed too, now, and I need your help to uncurse me.<br/>
<br/>
"So I'll make you a bargain," the voice continued, and it now became <i>very</i> squishy, like a sucking ooze. "That's something else we demons do, we make bargains with mortals. Being inside you is better than being stuck out there in the cold, which is where those, erm, assholes stuck me with their incompetent necromancy. But I've got better places to be, and only you can help get me back. So if you help me uncurse myself, I will go without cursing you."<br/>
<br/>
Sota gulped. "You will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. If you help me, I will help you. Or, rather, if you help me I <i>won't</i> molest you."<br/>
<br/>
"How—? How do I know you'll keep your word?"<br/>
<br/>
Sota's stomach lurched as he flew up into the air and banged his head on the ceiling. He hung there, spread-eagled against the dirty roof, and to his horror felt his head twisting all the way around on his neck until he was staring down at the floor even as his toes pointed straight up.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I will curse you if you don't do as I say," said the voice. "But I'll tell you this. I'd much rather curse those, erm, assholes than curse you. And the way it works, I won't be able to curse you and them both. So who do you want to see cursed?" the voice continued. "Them? Or you?"<br/>
<br/>
Sota's head twisted further around, until he was grimacing at the ceiling again. "Them," he gurgled.<br/>
<br/>
"Very good!" Sota's head spun back into place, and he dropped with a bone-crunching thud to the floor. "Don't worry," the voice said while he whimpered in pain. "I'll need your help, but you'll enjoy it. I'm inside you, I see your mind, and I know what you know and I know how you think. I see what they've done to you." It said another word, one that sounded like mountains grinding inside the bowels of a volcano, followed by "—amateurs. But you'll enjoy cursing them, both for the cursing and for the way we'll do it. Will you do it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Sota squeaked.<br/>
<br/>
"Hrm. Not that I don't believe you, but— Well, I don't believe you. We'll have to sign a contract, but I'll make it easy. The kind of contract you have to sign will also prepare you for cursing them."<br/>
<br/>
Sota half-expected a piece of parchment to appear in a puff of smoke. Instead, the voice said, "Find a pin or a needle. Something sharp to prick your finger and draw blood."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I have to?" Sota asked, then squawked and scrambled about to find something that would serve. He had to make do with a piece of glass, and he had to scrape it across his fingertip three times (and he whimpered each time) until he cut deep enough that a drop of blood welled up.<br/>
<br/>
"Very good," said the demon. "Now put it in your mouth and suck it down."<br/>
<br/>
Sota started to comply, but he stopped to stare at the bead of blood. It was dark. Very dark, far darker than blood should be. It wasn't red, not even purple. It was black, like tar.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you waiting for?" the demon asked. "Oh, I see. Yes, it's supposed to be that color. That's <i>me,</i> you see. I am giving you part of myself, part of my powers, so that you can carry out the curses. Suck it down, quickly! Before it falls and spatters on the ground!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota jammed his finger into his mouth. The bead of blood was sour on his tongue. It tasted like a dead thing smells, and he choked as he swallowed, and fought back a wave of vomit. Tears welled up in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, go get you some water," the voice said, and Sota thought there was a bit of a sigh inside it. "Don't worry, I'm not offended that you don't like the taste of me. I don't much like what <i>you</i> smell like in here, if it comes to that."<br/>
<br/>
"What comes next?" Sota asked as he tottered up the steps up to the basement door.<br/>
<br/>
"We go look for that Momoka, erm, bitch," said the demon. "From what I see inside your mind, she should be the easiest to get to. You'll have to talk her into meeting you alone someplace. But where?" The voice turned sticky, and it snapped and popped like hot tar bubbling over a fire. "I know! The equipment room after school."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't go there!" Sota gasped. His knees wobbled, and he caught himself against the wall before he could fall. "It'll be full of— of—!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm beginning to understand why Gouru made you his bitch," the demon snapped. "But don't worry, if you meet her after the teams have gone home, you'll be okay. Eh, what's that?" it added. "You almost had a thought."<br/>
<br/>
Sota tried not to think what he had almost said aloud, but the harder he tried not to think it, the clearer it grew in his own head.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh ho!" The demon chortled. "No, you're quite wrong. Gouru wouldn't make a good demon. If he was a demon he'd be one of the weak ones who get gobbled up but quick! You'll see, once you're inside him and get a look around."<br/>
<br/>
"Inside him?" Sota echoed.<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. Here's Momoka's locker. Do you have a pencil and some paper? Write her a note and put it in her locker. The equipment room, after the soccer team leaves, that's when you want to meet her to talk about, erm, what happened in the basement." The demon chuckled, sounding like bubbling lava.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sota found himself staring deeply into Momoka's eyes. She was looking up at him with a worried expression. <i>She's afraid,</i> he thought. Then he thought, <i>No, she's actually sad for me.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Don't be so naive," the demon said in his ear. "She found that book they used to summon me. She didn't stop them. She helped them. She always helps them."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why is she looking at me like that?" Sota said aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"Because she feels guilty. She's weak, so she feels guilty, but because she's weak she does whatever— But don't think so loud next time," the demon said. "See? Now she's confused."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you talking to me, Sota?" Momoka said in a small voice. Sota's mouth went very dry.<br/>
<br/>
They were in the abandoned equipment room. Sota could hardly believe that she had come in answer to his note. "What do I do now?" he whispered.<br/>
<br/>
"Jab her in the throat," the demon hissed back. "With your forefinger. Jab it into her <i>hard.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What? But—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hard!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota grimaced, for the demon seemed to be squeezing his insides, like a hand squeezing a tube of toothpaste. He raised his hand. "Sota?" Momoka said.<br/>
<br/>
Sota stabbed her in the throat with his finger. It sank into her all the way up to the knuckle.<br/>
<br/>
The side of her face caved in.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221111111211
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 3
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sota shrieked. "Quiet," growled the demon. "It's perfectly normal."<br/>
<br/>
"Normal?" Sota shrieked again. "But Momoka! She's—! She's—!"<br/>
<br/>
She was deflating. There was no other word for it. The side of her head was already caved in, and her forehead had collapsed and was sagging over the bridge of her nose. Her glasses fell with a clatter to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Sota?" she said. Her voice was slurred. "I feel funny. I feel like—"<br/>
<br/>
She raised her hand. It was flat, and it hung from the cuff of her blazer like an empty glove. As Sota stared, her arm flattened and sagged all the way up to the elbow. Her other arm hung limp from the shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Sota," Momoka said again. "I feel mmmpghmph—" Her forehead folded down and met her chin, and the crown of her head sank into her head, making a kind of bowl between her jaw and ears.<br/>
<br/>
As she deflated her clothes began to slip off. First her blazer and her skirt. Her panties slid to the floor to mix with her stockings. But she remained mostly upright, even after she was a limp rag of skin, for she remained impaled at the throat on Sota's finger.<br/>
<br/>
He stared at her, then shook her off with a frenzied flap of his hand. "Ghhyghkkh!" he exclaimed. "What the hell? What the hell did—? Did—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you do to her?" The demon sniggered. "You ate her, from the inside out. Slurped her right down. Mm!" The voice got very squishy, and Sota had the impression it was smacking its lips. "Very delicious!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota clutched his head. "I killed her," he muttered. "I killed Sugawara Momoka!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, pish tosh," said the voice in his ear. "Did you? That's a metaphysical question. There's her skin, she's left that behind, and that's quite enough to render the issue moot."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" Sota felt the question as a sense of puzzlement rather than as words.<br/>
<br/>
"Put it on, that's what I mean. Put her skin on," the demon said.<br/>
<br/>
Sota was so shocked he was sure he hadn't heard correctly. "Put it on?" he echoed in a numb voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, put it on. Wear her skin over yours."<br/>
<br/>
Sota's jaw worked. He couldn't get the words out, but he thought them very hard. Yet the demon didn't reply until he had forced them out into the air. "That's disgusting!"<br/>
<br/>
"That may be," the demon said, and its voice was as cold and smooth and squishy as a milkshake. "But if you wear her skin, then you will not have killed her, for she will still be alive. Except <i>you</i> will be <i>her.</i> Do you want to have killed her?" the demon asked when Sota said—and thought—nothing, for his mind had frozen up. "If you don't want to have killed her, then you must put on her skin and become her!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota stared down at the rag of skin—all that was left of Sugawara Momoka. It was the color of old parchment, and her hair was tangled up in her ribbons. He fell to his knees, and crouched over it. He touched his lips with the tip of his tongue. A shudder ran through him.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't," he said. "She's smaller than me. And she's the wrong shape. I'm a guy, and she's—" He trailed off as his heart beat very hard.<br/>
<br/>
"If you can't, then you won't," said the demon. "But don't let the shape stop you. You'll see. It's part of the, erm, magic. You do understand that it's magic, that's what you did. Well, here's some more of it. You can wear her skin. You'll look just like her, you won't look funny. You'll sound like her, too. Go on," the demon urged Sota. "Pull her skin over yours."<br/>
<br/>
Slowly, and fingering it like it was wet, slick dog shit, Sota picked up Momoka's skin by the crown of the head. He shuddered as her face appeared. There were two holes where her eyes should have been, and two smaller holes and a larger one where her nose and mouth would have been. Inside the latter he could make out something white, like teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"You want to go in through her throat," said the demon. "Where you made the hole. You'll find that you can stretch it very wide—certainly wide enough to squeeze yourself through—and pull her up around you. Erm, you'll have to take your clothes off first, of course."<br/>
<br/>
In a daze, hardly knowing what he was doing, Sano Sota threw off his blazer and kicked off his shoes. He peeled off his socks and his school tie, unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his trousers. He let all of his clothes fall in a disordered pile to the floor, leaving him naked and trembling from his crown to his toes in the chilly athletic equipment room of his school.<br/>
<br/>
Her blouse still clung to what was left of Momoka, and Sota pulled it off and tossed it aside. He shook her out until he found the throat and the hole he had made. It was very small. But as he wormed first one and then two fingers in, it stretched.<br/>
<br/>
"Pull it open," the demon urged. "Don't be scared, you can't tear it."<br/>
<br/>
So with two hands, Sota stretched it out until it was big enough that he could slide a foot into it. "Maybe you should sit down," the demon suggested as Sota hopped clumsily on his other foot.<br/>
<br/>
He slid one leg up to the knee inside the skin of Sugawara Momoka, then pulled the hole wide enough to force his other foot and leg inside. Then he drew the lips of the skin up over his thighs to his cock. There, he paused long enough fish each foot into a different one of her legs and to pull them up and tight until his feet were inside hers. He tamped between his toes, like her feet were gloves and he was tightening their fit. He marveled to see that, although Momoka's feet were small while his were long and bony, his feet seemed to shape themselves into hers once they were inside. In fact, he thought he felt them changing—the bones getting smaller and reshaping themselves to be like hers.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, now get the rest of her up and onto you," the demon said.<br/>
<br/>
So Sota pulled and tugged until his legs were entirely encased her Momoka's, and he had the rest of her up around his hips. Her insides, he found, were smooth and silky, so they didn't bind as he pulled them on, though they stuck tightly enough to his own skin once it was place. And when he stood up and stepped onto a splinter, he discovered—"Ow! Oh, shit!"—that it wasn't like wearing a stocking suit. The splinter bit like Momoka's skin really was his own!<br/>
<br/>
"What will happen to my cock?" he wondered as he pulled her hips around his. "Will it be like wearing tight underwear? Hello?" he said when the demon didn't answer. "Are you there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just waiting for you to discover what will happen," it replied. "Don't worry about it," it added.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course I'm going to worry about it," Sota replied. "It's my— Ulp!" He nearly swallowed his tongue as he looked down to find that his cock and balls had vanished and that instead he had a smooth and hairless slit where they had been. "Are they inside there?" Without hesitating to wonder at what he was doing, he scraped a fingertip across the skin. "Oh, wow!" he gasped. "I think they are in there, just covered up by— Oh wait!" he gasped again. "They're on the other side, too!" he added as he stroked the opposite fold of flesh.<br/>
<br/>
"Are they inside?" he asked, and he slid a cautious finger into the slit. "Oh wow," he said again. "Wow," he repeated as he slid his finger in and out. "It's like— It's like—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's like when you stroke your cock," said the demon. "Except outside in."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yeah!" Sota moaned. "I could— I think I could—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes you could, I can see that," said the demon as Sota flushed and groaned and slid his finger about inside his new pussy. "But you should finish dressing. There'll be lots of time for that later." Sota reluctantly pulled his finger out.<br/>
<br/>
He tugged Momoka higher about him until he could force first one of his arms into one of hers, then the other. Her breasts swelled up as her chest enclosed his, and when Sota squeezed them he found them very firm, and their nipples very tender.<br/>
<br/>
"Now you just need the face," the demon said.<br/>
<br/>
Sota reached behind until he found the lip of the hole he had made and pulled it up and over his head. It pushed his own hair into his eyes, and as Momoka's skin covered his he felt smothered and breathless, and for a moment he panicked. But then first one eye hole and then the other snapped into place in front of his. He pulled at his nose until the skin felt comfortable, and tugged at his jaw. <br/>
<br/>
When he had the face set, he rubbed his hands over himself. Her skin felt as natural as his own, and just as sensitive. Blood showed under it. Only one thing bothered him: the room was fuzzy and indistinct.<br/>
<br/>
"She wears glasses, remember?" the demon said. "Put them on, then go find a mirror. There's one at the very back of the equipment room."<br/>
<br/>
Sota fumbled the frames onto his face and tottered into the back of the room. He quailed a little as he saw a small figure walking toward him. When he got closer, he saw it was Sugawara Momoka. Her eyes were wide with wonder—just as his were!<br/>
<br/>
"Perfect," said the demon. "Now you just have to write a suicide note, and your revenge can commence."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211111112111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 4
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sota jumped. "Suicide note?" he exclaimed.<br/>
<br/>
Then he jumped again. His voice was like a chirp—or a squeak!<br/>
<br/>
The demon laughed in his ear. "I said you would have Momoka's voice. You sound just like her."<br/>
<br/>
Sota ignored him. "Why do I have to write a suicide note," he asked, and he winced at how squeaky he sounded. <br/>
<br/>
"Because now you are Sugawara Momoka, not Sano Sota. Where is Sano Sota?" asked the demon. "What has happened to him? A suicide note will tell them. Also," he added, and the voice got sticky again, "if Sano Sota killed himself because the Elite Funtime Club put a curse on him, it will be the beginning of your revenge on them."<br/>
<br/>
"But if I'm Sugawara Momoka," Sota started to say, but he caught himself, for he saw himself in the mirror. There was no "if." He <i>was</i> Sugawara Momoka, with her pudgy knees and her baby fat; her plump breasts and her doe-like eyes and the pink ribbons in her hair. He touched one of his breasts, and shivered all over.<br/>
<br/>
"But if I'm Sugawara Momoka," he started again, and now his small, chirpy voice didn't bother him nearly as much, "then I'm a member of the Elite Funtime Club, and I will be revenging myself on myself."<br/>
<br/>
"No, if you are Sugawara Momoka, you can make them hurt all the more. You will see. But hurry!" The demon's voice bubbled with excitement. "You must finish dressing. A teacher will be along soon to lock up!"<br/>
<br/>
So Sano Sota did dress, but he was preoccupied with thinking about his suicide note, so that not until he had snapped Momoka's bra into place did he notice how he had done it without puzzling over it. "How did I manage to put it on so easily?" he wondered aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"You are this girl now," said the demon. "You have everything she had. She left her memories and everything else on the inside of her skin, like a stain of shit, and as long as you are wearing her skin you will have them too. But hurry!"<br/>
<br/>
But Sota took his time and was very careful about buttoning up his skirt and blouse, and pulling his stockings up straight and folding them over at the top, and at tying and retying the bow at his throat until it was straight and symmetrical.<br/>
<br/>
He was staring at himself in the mirror, with his hands folded demurely in front of him, when he heard the door open. "Is anyone in here?" a rough voice called.<br/>
<br/>
"I am!" Sota called back. "Just a minute!" He picked up Momoka's backpack and hurried to the front of the equipment room, where one of the teachers was standing.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, hello Momoka," he said. "Why are you still here?"<br/>
<br/>
Sota's heart was beating hard as he heard himself say, "Akiko asked me to return some things, Kaneko-teacher. I was just putting them away."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?" Kaneko-teacher frowned. "I thought I saw her leave an hour ago."<br/>
<br/>
"She came back," Sota said in his small, Momoka-like voice. A thought struck him almost with the force of a blow. "She was meeting a boy," he said.<br/>
<br/>
Kaneko-teacher's eyes narrowed. "What boy? Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think it was Aiuchi Kosei," Sota said. Kosei was another boy on the school soccer team, and one that Hayato particularly hated because he was almost as popular with the girls as Hayato himself. "I think they were going off into the woods behind the school."<br/>
<br/>
Kaneko-teacher swore under his breath. "Well, you should go home. I came to lock up. If I see Akiko and Kosei—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, but I didn't see Kosei," Sota said. "I <i>think</i> she was going to meet him out in the woods."<br/>
<br/>
The teacher's lips whitened. "Well, if I see them, I'll send them home too. Have a good night, Momoka."<br/>
<br/>
"You too, teacher," Sota chirped, and he rolled his face up into a dimpled smile.<br/>
<br/>
But as he walked around the school he started to sweat. Where had all that come from? Why had he told a lie about Akiko? And why that particular lie?<br/>
<br/>
"Very good," said the demon. Its voice was now thick and syrupy. "You are off to a truly excellent start!"<br/>
<br/>
"But why did I say those things?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Momoka would have said them. Did you not listen to what I told you? You are that girl now, so it is very easy to act like to her, if you let yourself. And I see now that she is a very good, a very natural liar."<br/>
<br/>
Sota thought about it. And as he thought about it, he took out Momoka's cell phone and tapped in a message. "What are you doing?" the demon asked. "How do you know Momoka's bicycle has a flat tire?"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't. At least, I don't think it does," Sota said in Momoka's timid voice. "I'm not sure what I'm doing. I'll just have to see when Akiko gets here with the bike pump I asked her to bring."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
While Sota was waiting, he went inside the school, which was not yet locked. On a piece of paper, with some help from the demon, he wrote a note saying that he had decided to drown himself in the nearby river because the members of the Elite Funtime Club had cursed him, and had been cursing him ever since he had known them. It was a hard note to write, both because he knew how much it would hurt his parents to read it, but also because his handwriting kept curving into pretty ovals like Momoka would make. When he was done, he slipped it under the classroom door of Fujii-teacher (who was his favorite) and went outside to wait.<br/>
<br/>
He hadn't long. His cell phone—it was Momoka's but now he thought of it as his—chimed with a text from Akiko: <i>where are you?<br/>
<br/>
Out front waiting for you,</i> he replied.<br/>
<br/>
A minute later Akiko appeared from behind the school. She was dressed in black bicycle shorts and a bright red polyester windbreaker zipped up to her chin. Her hair, which she kept chopped short in a very butch cut, was sticking out all over. A thin sheen of sweat gleamed on her bare legs, and her eyes blazed in a face that was flushed from exercise.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck, Momoka?" she snarled as she stomped up to Sota. "What the fuck? You said you'd be waiting for me behind the school!"<br/>
<br/>
"I decided I could meet you out front," Sota said timidly. He clasped his hands before him, like a little girl apologizing to her superior. "I must have missed you."<br/>
<br/>
"You are so dumb sometimes," Akiko said. "I ran into Kaneko-teacher back there. Fuck! He asked me if I had been off with Kosei!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota's eyes widened. "Oh no! He thought you were with Kosei?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't I just say that? Come on, let's get your bike tire pumped up again and get out of here. I hate coming back to school!"<br/>
<br/>
Then she cursed again when she found that Momoka's bike was fine. "You don't need it pumped up!" she yelled. "What were you thinking?"<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't it feel squishy to you?" Sota asked.<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's just like it's supposed to be. What's wrong with you today?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry," Sota said, and he hung his head. "I'm just being stupid, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, go home! And don't follow me, that was a dumb thing we did in the basement today and I'm sick of your shit." Akiko sung her leg over her bike, fiddled with the gears, and shot off.<br/>
<br/>
Sota stared after her, and felt a lava-hot hatred welling up in his breast. His eyes brimmed with tears, but they were the hot tears of anger and loathing. He hated Akiko, but he found now to his surprise that Momoka hated her even more than he did. She hated Yuuna, too, for being such a smug and superior bitch. But she hated Akiko more because she was always cruel to her.<br/>
<br/>
And what was worse, Akiko stood between Momoka and what she really wanted.<br/>
<br/>
Sota pedaled to his new home, and he ate a quiet dinner with his new parents, and he locked himself in his new bedroom while his new father got drunk on beer and yelled at his new mother. He did his homework while listening to the bubbly J-pop that Momoka liked. As he worked, he sent texts to Gorou: <i>kaneko-teacher caught akiko behind the school with kosei.<br/>
<br/>
fuck! no!<br/>
<br/>
akiko told me he caught her.<br/>
<br/>
that cunt! why are you telling me?<br/>
<br/>
you should know. but do not tell hayato. you know he hates kosei.<br/>
<br/>
I HATE KOSEI NOW! that fucker!<br/>
<br/>
don't be mad gorou. we'll talk tomorrow.</i><br/>
<br/>
At the same time he sent texts to Yuuna: <i>akiko was with kosei after school.<br/>
<br/>
really? doing what?<br/>
<br/>
she didn't say so it must have been bad.<br/>
<br/>
who told you?<br/>
<br/>
akiko.<br/>
<br/>
akiko says you're lying. she says she wasn't with kosei.<br/>
<br/>
but she told me kaneko-teacher saw them.<br/>
<br/>
she says kaneko-teacher only asked her about kosei.<br/>
<br/>
but she was so mad. you know hayato hates kosei, he'd never forgive akiko if she was with kosei.<br/>
<br/>
i think you are right momoka but don't tell anyone.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Momoka isn't weak," Sota said after he got into bed.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes I see I was wrong," the demon said. "She really is a manipulative little, erm, bitch, isn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, that's why she joined the Elite Funtime Club. She loves fucking people up while pretending to be so innocent."<br/>
<br/>
"No wonder she was so delicious," said the demon.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by 'delicious'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. But I think there's something you want to do now."<br/>
<br/>
Sota fell silent and closed his eyes. He tensed.<br/>
<br/>
Then he realized what the demon meant. It was like getting permission, and he let out a happy breath as his fingers felt their way to his slit. He groaned as he slipped them inside. It was already slick and hot in there.<br/>
<br/>
And his mind drifted and slid into grooves that Momoka had already worn smooth with desirous fantasies.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Gorou," he squeaked in Momoka's little voice. "These aren't my fingers inside me. They're your cock!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111111121111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 5
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You look really exhausted," the demon observed the next morning as Sota studied himself in the mirror. There were dark bags under his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you see out of my eyes?" he wondered aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course. I can hear through your ears, and I feel what you feel. Speaking of which, you really wore yourself out with fingering yourself all night."<br/>
<br/>
"Did it feel good to you too?" Sota asked as he straightened out the giant bow at his neck. Momoka always had to fuss with it until it was just right before going to school.<br/>
<br/>
"Mneh. It's not the sort of thing I enjoy. But don't worry about me. Just worry about that, erm, fucker Gorou."<br/>
<br/>
<i>My beloved Gorou,</i> said Sota thoughtfully to himself.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, he will be ripe for the plucking today. And the fucking. You know what you have to do. You thought about it all last night while fingering yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but it's very scary," Sota said. "Momoka has thought about it for a very long time, but it has always scared her, and it disgusts <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Then you must reverse where you get your feelings from. Momoka isn't disgusted by the thought. You were very, erm, <i>vivid</i> last night as you thought about it."<br/>
<br/>
"You always cough a little bit when you say certain words," Sota said as he raised his leg and put a foot on the chair. He carefully straightened out the lines of his stocking and folded the hem back under his pudgy knee. "Is it because it's hard to translate from the—? Uh—?"<br/>
<br/>
"The language of Hell?" The demon gurgled like sludge being flushed down a toilet. "Go ahead and say it. You know what I am and where I come from. But the answer is 'yes'. In the language of Hell, the word is—" He made a noise like steel nails being slung into a spinning fan blade. "It means something like 'vivid' but with words like 'burning cum' and 'searing needles jammed into one's eyeballs' folded up inside it. Would you like me to teach you how to say it?"<br/>
<br/>
Sota gasped. "No thank you!"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you sure? I think it would make for a very, erm, vivid scene if this sweet little, erm, bitch let loose with some choice Hellish obscenities. You're sure? Oh well, maybe you'll change your mind later. But as I was saying, Momoka doesn't find those fantasies disgusting, and you're not frightened of fucking over Gorou. So use your courage and her lust."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Momoka's lust,</i> thought Sota as he turned back to study himself in the mirror. He fingered the pink ribbons in his long hair, and let his eyes outline the curving folds of the bow at his throat. <i>She looks so sweet and innocent on the outside, like a little girl, but on the inside she is filthy with lust.</i> A hard spurt of desire shot through his body, and when he felt under his skirt he found the front of his panties wet. <br/>
<br/>
"Yes, use that lust," the demon gurgled deep inside his ear. "Use it to really fuck Akiko up."<br/>
<br/>
"Akiko?" Sota said in surprise. Then he thought, <i>Oh yes. I understand now.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Very good. Now, the sooner you get to school, the sooner you can continue your revenge on those, erm, fuckers."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sota was at Momoka's locker when someone rudely grabbed him by a pig tail and pulled his head back. He cried out as his scalp screamed with pain.<br/>
<br/>
"Momoka, you little bitch!" It was Akiko yelling in his ear. "Why did you tell Gorou about me and Kosei?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't!" Sota said in a bleating little voice. "I only told Yuuna!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not what Gorou said!" Akiko whipped Sota around put her face into his. Her dark eyes blazed. "He said you texted him!"<br/>
<br/>
"Please, Akiko!" Sota begged. "You're hurting me!"<br/>
<br/>
"You better fucking believe I'm hurting you! I'll fucking hurt you more! I just saw Gorou, and he—!"<br/>
<br/>
"But I only told Yuuna!" Sota sobbed. "I didn't know what to do! You know what Hayato will do to you if he hears about you and Ko—!" Sota gulped as Akiko pulled harder at his hair. "You and Kosei!" he screamed.<br/>
<br/>
Akiko was already pale, but she turned even whiter, and her lips lost all their color. She knew as well as Sota that Hayato only had to say the word to his legion of female admirers, and they'd all turn on Akiko and abuse her endlessly.<br/>
<br/>
Then she said, through clenched teeth, "Gorou said—"<br/>
<br/>
"He must have heard it from Yuuna! She's the only one I told! He probably blamed me because—" Sota wiped away the tears that were brimming behind his thick glasses. "He was afraid Yuuna would tell Hayato if he blamed her!"<br/>
<br/>
Akiko yanked hard at Sota's hair, so that he screamed again, then let go. "Okay, that makes sense," she said in a shaking voice. "But things are totally fucked up now. Gorou won't speak to me, and he—" Akiko bit her lip. "And he hit me."<br/>
<br/>
"He did?" Sota gasped. "Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind! But why would Yuuna tell him about—?"<br/>
<br/>
Then she grabbed Sota by the hair again. "And it's your fault! You told Yuuna that I was with Kosei! I told you I wasn't!"<br/>
<br/>
"You told me Kaneko-teacher caught you and Kosei behind the school!"<br/>
<br/>
Akiko's eyes blazed anew. "I told you he was <i>asking</i> me about Kosei! <i>Asking!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, Akiko," Sota burbled. "I misunderstood." He looked up at her from under Momoka's long eyelashes. "But you <i>weren't</i> with Kosei?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. I guess I thought you were, like, just being careful about saying anything."<br/>
<br/>
Akiko punched the locker next to Sota's head. "You dumb little bitch! Just get away from me and stay away!" She stormed off, shoving students aside as she went.<br/>
<br/>
The demon coughed in Sota's ear. "Not bad," he rumbled, "except that Akiko is mad at Momoka now."<br/>
<br/>
"But she's more scared of the others, so it's worth it," Sota said. "And I know how to make things worse."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh ho," chortled the demon. "So you've come around to what I was saying before?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," said Sota. He turned his cell phone on so he could study his face—Momoka's sweet face with the wounded expression—as he brushed out his hair. "I only thought I hated Akiko. Momoka really hated her, so I'll use Momoka to get my revenge on Akiko."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Something happened before he could do that, though. He and the other members of the Elite Funtime Club were summoned to the director's office. He looked very grave as he told them all that Sano Sota was missing, and that he had left a suicide note blaming the Club for his decision to drown himself. Sota gasped at the news—as Momoka would have—and let a few tears roll down his cheeks. Meanwhile, Hayato, who was handsome and intelligent and very popular with the staff, angrily denied that he and the club had done anything to Sota.<br/>
<br/>
"Have they found him?" Yuuna asked. Unlike Sota and Hayato, she and the other two members slumped in their chairs and sullenly crossed their arms as they listened to the director. "In the river, I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," said the director. "But we just found the note this morning."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe he just went off to hide," Yuuna said. "I bet he's too much of a coward to do anything." The director frowned at her words.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll help people search for him after school," Sota volunteered. Gorou glared at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Leave that to the authorities," the director said. He then lectured them on their responsibilities to the other students at the school, and dismissed them.<br/>
<br/>
"You should learn to keep your mouth shut, Yuuna," Hayato told her when they were in the hallway. "I had it all sewn up, then you had to go and call that little fucker a coward. It made me sound like a liar."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's true," Yuuna snarled back at him. She tossed her head. "No way Sota offed himself. He hasn't got the guts."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we should go find him," Gorou growled, "and put him in the river for real. If we're gonna get in trouble anyway, it might as well be for something we did."<br/>
<br/>
"If he shows up, we'll straighten him out," Hayato said. "So let's hope he does." He strode off. After a moment's hesitation, Yuuna hurried after him. Akiko shrank up, then followed the club president. <br/>
<br/>
Gorou scowled after them, then turned his scowl onto Sota.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you were blubbering in there for," he said. "It was your idea to use that dumb book to curse him."<br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking about <i>you,</i> Gorou," Sota said in voice so small that even he could barely hear himself.<br/>
<br/>
But Gorou heard, and he started. "Me?" he exclaimed.<br/>
<br/>
Sota nodded. "Hayato and Yuuna won't get in trouble. Their parents have influence. Even Akiko won't get in trouble. But you've got a reputation." Sota ducked his head, like a turtle trying to withdraw into his shell, as Gorou's expression turned very black. Gorou's father was a gangster who'd been shot dead in an ambush by another gang, and most people assumed that Gorou would turn out just like him. "If something happened to Sano Sota, people will think <i>you</i> did it."<br/>
<br/>
"So let 'em think it!" Gorou wheeled and stalked off. Sota hurried after.<br/>
<br/>
"Are things okay between you and Akiko?" he asked. He clutched Gorou's hand, but Gorou snatched it free. "Can we get together after school to talk?" he begged.<br/>
<br/>
"Do whatever you want," Gorou replied, and went into the boys' restroom.<br/>
<br/>
So Sota bicycled over to Gorou's house after school let out. Gorou let him in without saying anything.<br/>
<br/>
Nor did Gorou say anything when Sota lifted his skirt and tugged down the front of his panties and said, "Please touch me there, Gorou. Please?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221111111211111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 6
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The two teenagers had the house to themselves as Sota pulled Momoka's woolen skirt up and hooked a forefinger into the front of her panties. "Please touch me there," he whispered to the gaping Gorou as he tugged them down to expose the pussy he had stolen. "I think of you every night, after I'm in bed," he continued in Momoka's small voice. "But I'm tired of touching myself with my own fingers. I want <i>you</i> to touch me, Gorou. With your cock."<br/>
<br/>
Gorou finally found his voice. "Momoka," he gasped as he boggled at what Sota was showing him. "I— I— Uhk!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to do anything special, Gorou," Sota moaned. "You can just use your fingers, if you want. I just want to know what it feels like when you touch me." Slowly, he scraped a lithe finger along the side of his slit.<br/>
<br/>
Gorou swallowed, and he blushed so hard his face turned purple. "Momoka," he gasped again. "I don't want you to think I'm— that I'm—" He twisted around, then looked back to stare at the spot where Sota was stroking himself. He trembled.<br/>
<br/>
"Momoka!" he yelled, and tears popped into his eyes. "I know people think I'm a bad guy! But I'm not! I'm not—" He swallowed again. "I'm not <i>that</i> bad, not <i>that</i> way!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not asking you to molest me, Gorou," Sota said. "It wouldn't be molesting me if I <i>asked</i> you to do it, would it?"<br/>
<br/>
Gorou twitched and shrank up. Deep inside, under Momoka's skin, Sota laughed and gagged at the same time. Gorou was fumbling his hands over his crotch, and Sota knew that he was trying to hide the raging boner that Sota's display had given him.<br/>
<br/>
"I know," Sota continued in Momoka's soft, moaning voice, "that you don't like me the way you like Akiko. I'm sure her— her—" Sota pretended to stumble over the words. "Her pussy is much nicer than mine. You wouldn't have as much fun touching mine as you have touching Akiko's."<br/>
<br/>
Sota broke off as Gorou's glance flicked upward. His face showed puzzlement. "You and Akiko do this all the time, right?" Sota said. He rubbed harder at his pussy. Gorou shook his head. "But—! But she <i>told</i> me you do!"<br/>
<br/>
Gorou's mouth split into a hard sneer. "She's never let me touch her, Momoka!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota blinked, and blinked some more behind Momoka's thick glasses. "But you two are together! And she told me that you and her, you're always—"<br/>
<br/>
Gorou swung around and punched the wall with a hard fist. He cried out. "We're not together, Momoka! Akiko only says that we are so as to make Hayato and Yuuna jealous!"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that so?" Sota cried out.<br/>
<br/>
Gorou nodded, and Sota wondered at how openly and unashamedly the bully let the tears stream down his cheeks. "She told me we should pretend so that we could make Hayato and Yuuna jealous. But I don't think they care. I know Akiko doesn't care about me. That's why she's—" He swiped at his eye with the side of his fist, and his tone turned fierce. "That's why she was off yesterday with that fucker, Kosei!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Gorou!" Sota said. "And Akiko told me that you and her are always—!" He shuffled up to Gorou, who stumble backward until he was against the wall. "That you're always—!" Sota raised his face to Gorou's, and breathed softly in it. <br/>
<br/>
"I see now," Sota continued as he smiled up at the boy. "She was only taunting me, trying to make me feel bad, by telling me that you and her are always—!" He pressed his pussy right up against the straining bulge in Gorou's trousers. "Always touching each other! Because she knows that's what <i>I've</i> always wanted to do with <i>you!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Gorou gurgled in the back of his throat, and slid down to the floor. Sota followed him down. "She's been so cruel to both of us," Sota moaned. "She's such a bitch. But I know how to get back at her! How both of us can get back at her!" He grinned at the fearful expression on Gorou's face as he pulled at the boy's zipper. "You just have to take out your cell phone and your—!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota caught his breath as Gorou's cock popped out. It was long and smooth, and it strained at the air. "Take out your cell phone," Sota said, and repeated it again until the wide-eyed Gorou had extracted it from his pants pocket. "Hold it up and film me while I—"<br/>
<br/>
Inwardly, Sota shuddered. First he shuddered with his own horror as he opened his mouth and took Gorou's cock inside it. Then he shuddered with Momoka's pleasure as he felt it slide over his tongue and down his throat.<br/>
<br/>
<i>This is my beloved Gorou,</i> he repeated to himself as he slid his tongue and mouth up and down the boy's hot, stiff cock. <i>My beloved Gorou. I'm pleasuring my beloved Gorou.</i> Over and over he thought this until his brain had numbed and he felt nothing but Momoka's lust for Gorou. His cunt grew warm and began to drip, and he squirmed as a hot molten core began to seep up his insides. <i>My cunny is hungry for his cock,</i> he realized. <i>It wants him inside it. I want him inside me.</i> He put a slim hand under his skirt and rubbed at himself. <i>I won't be happy until I feel Gorou cumming inside me.</i><br/>
<br/>
All this time Gorou had been panting and gasping. Now he said, "Ah! Aigghh! Momoka! I'm going to—! Watch out, I'm going to cum!"<br/>
<br/>
Gorou rose under Sota, forcing his head back. Sota braced himself as the boy's cock exploded in his mouth. A fat, slimy wad hit the back of his throat and slid down it. Sota swallowed and sucked at Gorou's cock, and he let the hot saliva dribble down the shaft.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Momoka," Gorou groaned. "That was so—! Ah!" Sota felt his classmate go limp all over, except in his cock, which stood rigidly at attention. "Don't stop," Gorou whispered. "That feels so good. So amazing. Your mouth is ..." He trailed off.<br/>
<br/>
Sota sucked at it and sucked at it until it at last began to go slack, then he let go and looked up. Gorou's head was lolling against the wall. He was breathing softly and his eyes were closed, but he opened them as Sota pulled himself into the boy's lap. <br/>
<br/>
"Gorou," Sota said, "I'm glad I made you feel good, but there's part of <i>me</i> that wants to feel good too."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" A leering half-smile crept up the side of Gorou's face.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. When you're ready again, I'd really like it if you—" Sota grasped Sota's cock and tucked it as best he could into the front of his panties. "If you put it in there and came again."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Gorou said.<br/>
<br/>
"It's all I think about after I go to bed," Sota groaned. "Sometimes I can't get to sleep for <i>hours</i> because I'm thinking of you being inside me and cumming."<br/>
<br/>
Gorou cradled Sota's head between his hands. "Wow, Momoka," he said. "I never knew that you— I never did this before!"<br/>
<br/>
"Not with Akiko?" Sota asked. Gorou shook his head. "Then what do you think she'd think if you sent her that video you took? You did video what I did to you just now, didn't you?"<br/>
<br/>
Gorou nodded, but he also frowned. "Send it to Akiko?" he said. "I don't think she'd care."<br/>
<br/>
"I think she would," Sota said. "She was always taunting me. And she was really upset this morning. She was very angry that you weren't talking to her any more."<br/>
<br/>
Gorou sat up very straight. "She was? What did she say?" <br/>
<br/>
Sota didn't like the hopeful tone in his voice. "Oh, just that she thought you were being a baby because she'd been with Kosei," he stammered.<br/>
<br/>
"But she was upset?" Gorou said. "She doesn't like me not talking to her?"<br/>
<br/>
"She said you were being a baby," Sota repeated.<br/>
<br/>
But Gorou didn't seem to hear. He pushed Sota off and scrambled to his feet, pulling up his pants up and tucking himself into them. "What's wrong?" Sota asked from the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing's wrong! I just thought—! I thought that Akiko was done with me! That she didn't care about me anymore!"<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn't!" Sota cried.<br/>
<br/>
There was a feverish glint in Gorou's eye. "But you said she's upset. That means she does care for me! Oh God, I have to talk to her! Maybe we can—!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota didn't know why he did what he did next. He only felt a hot fury geysering up inside his chest. Had he put on Sugawara Momoka's skin and seduced and sucked off Ota Gorou—a classmate that he hated and feared—just so that asshole could run back to the girl who had tormented him by refusing to do the same? Had all this been for nothing?<br/>
<br/>
As Gorou turned toward him, Sota put his hands out and seized him by the throat.<br/>
<br/>
But instead of choking him, Sota jammed a finger deep into Gorou's Adam's apple. The boy gurgled in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
Then his forehead puckered and collapsed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211111112111111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 7
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Momoka, what did you do?" Gorou gurgled as Sota pulled his finger free of the boy's throat. His voice was only a weak whistle.<br/>
<br/>
Sota shrank back, even though he had seen this sort of thing happen before. As he watched, Gorou shrank on his feet. The crown of his head collapsed and his shoulders sagged and his feet bent onto their sides. Gorou turned and stumbled toward the door. If it hadn't been so horrible, Sota would have laughed, for it looked like Gorou was wading into the deep end of a swimming pool as his legs gave out and his chest and chin sank closer to the floor. Soon he was walking on his knees as he dragged his limp and deflated shins and feet behind. He reached out to grasp the doorknob, but his hand hung limp from the end of his wrist. He wobbled for a moment as he reached out with his other hand, then fell onto his face. A moment later, there was nothing left of him but his skin inside his disordered school uniform.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck!" Sota cried out. "What did I do?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know what you did," chortled the demon. "You did the same thing to him that you did to Momoka. I was going to tell you to do it, but I was having too much fun watching."<br/>
<br/>
"But what am I going to do? Will I have to put on <i>his</i> skin? Will I have to write a suicide note for Momoka?"<br/>
<br/>
"You could," said the demon, "but I gave you other powers that will help out here. You know that already, deep down. That's why you acted on intuition. You knew it would be alright."<br/>
<br/>
"How is it going to be alright?" Sota shrieked.<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shirt on. Or take it off. Whose skin do you want to wear, his or Momoka's? Never mind," the demon continued when Sota didn't answer. "Maybe you'd better keep being Momoka for now. She's a brilliant little schemer and you're doing great things as her. But now, pick up your 'friend' over there and find that hole you made in his throat. Got it?" the demon asked as Sota, with much loathing, picked up Gorou's skin and fumbled it about until he found the neck. "Now put it to your lips and blow into it, like he's a balloon. You'll have to give it one good puff, but make sure the air goes in."<br/>
<br/>
Sota nervously lifted Gorou's skin to his mouth. He thought it strange that this should be so much more disgusting than taking Gorou's cock down his throat. But then, he had had Momoka's lust to carry him along, and she lusted for Gorou's fat and rampant cock, not his limp and empty skin. Sota blew into Gorou's throat, and tried not to mind the boy's ragged hair that trailed over his hand like seaweed.<br/>
<br/>
"Very good," said the demon. "Now you can drop him. And watch."<br/>
<br/>
Sota dropped Gorou's skin and stepped back. He watched intently, but it was a moment before he spotted the movement. When he did, he shrieked and pressed back against the wall on his tiptoes.<br/>
<br/>
Gorou was reinflating. His torso filled out first, then his arms and legs, and finally his head. It was much quicker than when he was deflating, and Sota barely had time to take in what was happening before Gorou raised his head from the floor and looked at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry," the demon told Sota. "It's not him. It's still just his skin. But you've filled him with your 'breath of spirit.' It's like part of you is inside him. He's your puppet now," it concluded as Gorou sat up and looked around with a confused expression on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"My puppet?" whispered Sota.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I said. He will do what you say. In fact, you'll only have to think it really hard at him. You don't even have to be close to him. If he's far away, you can call to him, and he'll come. It's your breath in him, so you're connected to him, you see."<br/>
<br/>
As Sota watched, Gorou-puppet got to his feet and straightened out his clothes. It took Sota a moment to realize that that's what he had wanted Gorou-puppet to do, for he had been slouching in a very untidy way on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"I wonder what I can do with him," Sota wondered aloud.<br/>
<br/>
"I know what Momoka would do with him," the demon sniggered.<br/>
<br/>
That gave Sota a very vivid picture in his mind. The next thing he knew, Gorou-puppet was pressed up very close to him with his face close to Sota's. <br/>
<br/>
"I love you, Momoka," he said in a soft voice. "I know now I've always loved you. You were my first ... and I'd like to be your second ... right now!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota gasped as he felt Gorou-puppet fumbling under the skirt for his panties. He must have thought <i>Stop!</i> in a very loud and hard way, for Gorou-puppet paused. "What's wrong?" he said. "Don't you love me any more?"<br/>
<br/>
"I do love you," Sota said, and he felt enough of Momoka's lust that he put his mouth right up to Gorou-puppet's. "I mean, I love you ... <i>as my puppet."</i> He put his hand down to clasp Gorou-puppet's. But he was also thinking of what he wanted, so that Gorou-puppet was moving even before Sota could reach him. Gorou-puppet put his fingers down the front of Sota's panties and stroked Sota's clit. "Oh, God, yes, Gorou! That's perfect!" Sota moaned. "Your fingers! They're so strong! Mm!" He took Gorou-puppet's mouth in his, and kissed him deeply. He felt like he was melting—or even deflating.<br/>
<br/>
He broke off, though, before he could entirely give in to Momoka's lust. He had other plans for his puppet.<br/>
<br/>
"If you love me," he told Gorou-puppet, "you'll send that video we made to Akiko. And if you <i>really</i> love me," he continued as Gorou-puppet took out his cell phone and swiped at the screen, "you'll attach it to <i>another</i> video, where you—"<br/>
<br/>
Sota broke off and shut his eyes as he concentrated on what he wanted Gorou-puppet to do. Through his long lashes he watched as Gorou-puppet raised the camera up high and hit RECORD on the app. His mouth split into a wicked, leering grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Akiko," he gloated into the lens, "you know I've been lusting after your cunt, but you never put out for me. Well, you can just fuck off now as far as I'm concerned. I found someone who'll give it to me any way I want it, and the way she wants it she's bound to be a hell of a lot better than you. So go suck off Kosei, you bitch. But watch this first so you'll know how to do it!"<br/>
<br/>
He lowered the phone and swiped and tapped at the glass screen. "Done," he told Sota. "Sent her that video, <i>and</i> the one we made earlier. God, this makes me horny!" He thrust his face into Sota's.<br/>
<br/>
"I know it does," Sota chortled, "because I want it to. Now I want you to go down on me, the way I went down on you. I want your tongue and lips to—" But he didn't have to say anymore as his puppet of Ota Gorou sank to his knees and put his face inside Momoka's panties.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sano Sota lay on the bed for a very long time as that most fearsome bully licked him inside and outside. He had taken his panties off and spread his legs, and he stared dazedly at the ceiling as he felt the hot, wet tongue sliding up and down and darting in and out. This was a lot better than doing it to him, and Sota gurgled and grinned. It was also better than letting Gorou-puppet do it with his cock, for it seemed more humiliating.<br/>
<br/>
But Sota's mind was only half on Gorou-puppet. The rest was concentrating on the other members of the Elite Funtime Club. It would be so very satisfying to do to them what he had done to Gorou. But it would be even more fun to torture them first, to suck down the last bit of pain before devouring them and making them puppets ... Or putting on their skin.<br/>
<br/>
First there was the matter of Akiko. It wasn't long after Gorou-puppet had put Sota on his back that the reply had come: <i>fuck u fudk u fck u! FUCK YOU!</i> Sota imagined the boiling tears that were likely pouring down Akiko's face, and the picture came with a feeling like hot syrup dribbling down Sota's own throat. <i>Oh Akiko! How it sucks to be you!<br/>
<br/>
Too bad for you it doesn't suck hard enough yet!</i><br/>
<br/>
But not until he was finally bored with Gorou-puppet's attentions did he settle on his next course of action. After freshening up in the bathroom, he sent Hayato a text on Momoka's phone: <i>gorou says he broke up with akiko because she cheated on him with kosei.</i><br/>
<br/>
It was thirty minutes before Sota got a reply: <i>You and Gorou be at my Academy at 8:40 if you don't want to die.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sota was at his present home by then, and he spent half an hour in the bathroom, rehearsing faces for Momoka to make, and thinking of what he wanted her and Gorou-puppet to say.<br/>
<br/>
But at eight o'clock, as he was getting ready to make the fifteen minute ride to where Hayato's after-school academy was, he got a text from Yuuna: <i>momoka you are dead.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111111121111111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 8
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The neon signs and strobing lights of the district hurt Sota's eyes as he hurried to his meeting with Hayato. Dance music throbbed into the night from clubs, and salary-men in rumpled suits shuffled in and out of noodle shops. No one paid much attention to Sota, but he didn't feel much relief. Momoka's short skirt rode up high on his pudgy thighs, and he couldn't stop thinking about the clinging panties beneath them. He thought he saw lust in every hooded glance and salacious glare. He himself didn't attend an after-school academy, and neither did Momoka, so the street and the crowds and the noise and the stink of the beer and cigarettes and fish unnerved him. He should have come with Gorou instead of coming here on his own.<br/>
<br/>
The horrible finally happened only a block from his destination. The doors to a convenience store burst open and half a dozen middle school boys in blazers and slacks and ties fell out. They were slurping sodas and jamming chips and hunks of dried squid into their faces. Sota felt them suck in a collective breath when they saw him.<br/>
<br/>
"Come here," one of them shouted. "Come here, little girl, so I can touch you."<br/>
<br/>
The rest of them laughed, and took up the chant. "Come here," they cried. "Come with me! Come with us! Come with me! I have a friend who wants to kiss you!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota tried to hurry on, but they crowded about him, jostling him and tripping him. "Let me go!" he whimpered. "I have to meet someone! I'm going to the Academy!"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll take you! Come with us!" Someone put a heavy hand on Sota's shoulder. It rested there until someone else slapped it away so another hand could take its place. Someone else pulled Sota's hair—not hard, but firmly so he could stroke it. "You want to go to our Academy! This way! This way!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Please come, Gorou-puppet,</i> Sota thought with gritted teeth. He remembered what the demon had said about his puppet being able to hear him from great distances. <i>Your Momoka is in trouble! Come save her!</i><br/>
<br/>
But salvation came from another direction first. "What are you fuckers doing?" a familiar voice rang out.<br/>
<br/>
"We found a nice piece of tail, Hayato," someone jeered. "She came back with us from the—"<br/>
<br/>
There was a muffled confusion, and someone knocked hard into Sota. "What the fuck?" shouted someone. There were other shouts. "What the fuck?" and "What are you doing?" and "Do you want to die?"<br/>
<br/>
Sota looked up to find Hayato glaring down arrogantly at him. "Get inside, Momoka," he said. "These fuckers need a lesson."<br/>
<br/>
"Who needs a lesson?"<br/>
<br/>
"You do, Satoru! Your boyfriend will be jealous!"<br/>
<br/>
Hard, raucous laughter sounded behind Sota as he dove into the shabby, gray-colored lobby of a building. He cowered next to a cold stairwell as Hayato, his hands on his hips, yelled at the boys outside. Some of them wore sullen expressions, but more of them grinned.<br/>
<br/>
"Go back to class!" Hayato ordered, and he pointed up the stairs. "Break time is almost over!"<br/>
<br/>
With some grumbling and some dirty looks at Sota, the boys shuffled past Hayato and went up the stairs. Hayato turned blazing eyes onto Sota when they were gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Where is Gorou?" he demanded.<br/>
<br/>
"He's coming." Sota folded his hands over his skirt and bowed his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Why isn't he with you? I thought he had his cock inside your mouth!"<br/>
<br/>
"I had to go home," Sota said. His cheeks burned. <i>You will get yours, Hayato,</i> he thought. <i>I will have my revenge on you too.</i><br/>
<br/>
"What is this bullshit? Why are you sucking him off? Did you get permission?"<br/>
<br/>
"Permission from who?"<br/>
<br/>
"From me, Momoka!" For a moment, Sota thought Hayato was going to seize him by the hair, as Akiko had done. But it was almost worse having Hayato raining a storm of words onto him. "You should have got my permission!"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know." Tears burst from Sota's eyes, and it wasn't all acting.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes you did! You deliberately showed me disrespect!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, Hayato! You can punish me if you want." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Sota wondered, <i>Where did </i>that<i> come from?</i><br/>
<br/>
"You would like that, wouldn't you? I know you, Momoka. I know what a filthy little bitch you are in your soul. That is why you are always seeking punishment by doing wrong. But I'm not going to punish you. But you're not going to get what you want. Gorou and Akiko are meant for each other. They are together, and they are going to be together. You do not get to have anyone. If you want a boyfriend, you will have to quit the Elite Funtime Club."<br/>
<br/>
Even Sota quailed at the judgment, for with Momoka's memories he knew what that would mean. The Club would torment her far more mercilessly than they had ever tormented him. Sota had only pretended suicide. Momoka probably would have killed herself after only a week of what Hayato and Yuuna and Akiko and Gorou would do to her. "I'm sorry," he said again in a haggard whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"Do not disrespect me by apologizing again. Just stand there and listen for when that fucker Gorou gets here and I tell him the same thing."<br/>
<br/>
"I only did it," Sota said in a pained voice, "because Gorou was hurting so bad because of what Akiko did. And because I knew Akiko was hurting you by being unfaithful with Kosei."<br/>
<br/>
"That's why they have to be together after this," Hayato thundered. "Akiko must be punished for being unfaithful with Kosei, and Gorou must be punished for being unfaithful with you. They hate each other now, and they are going to be boyfriend and girlfriend as punishment."<br/>
<br/>
"I understand," Sota said. "Is Akiko coming to be punished too?"<br/>
<br/>
"She is already upstairs taking her punishment from Yuuna. Yuuna isn't as kind-hearted as me. Akiko is going to be hurting for real when she comes down. That's what your real punishment will be, Momoka. You will not be hurting as bad as everyone else. Everyone hates you now. But you have to be their friend."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Gorou-puppet arrived not long after. He had a confused expression on his face, for he had the feeling that Sota needed him, and he was surprised to find him standing so docilely with Hayato. Then, while Hayato was reaming him out, Akiko came down the stairs. She was flushed and sweating, and her cheeks were caked with dried tears. The whites of her eyes showed when she looked at Sota. Sota wondered at that, then realized that Akiko was so angry with him that it looked like fear. Hayato was only very cold with her, and told her that she and Gorou were still together. Then he made them kiss, right there, in the doorway of the Academy, for him.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Slide your tongue into her mouth,</i> Sota thought at Gorou-puppet. Behind Momoka's melancholy mask, Sota giggled as Akiko eyes suddenly bulged, and she choked.<br/>
<br/>
"Go home now," Hayato ordered. "I had to miss my bullshit English class because of you fuckers. I can't miss my math class, though." He stalked back up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
Akiko scowled hard at Sota, but at a thought from him Gorou-puppet pulled her back into the street. "Let's go talk," he told her. "We can try to be friends."<br/>
<br/>
"What about <i>her?</i>" Akiko snarled.<br/>
<br/>
"I have to wait here," Sota whimpered. "Yuuna wants to see me next."<br/>
<br/>
Akiko stared. Then a light of gloating triumph filled her eye. She almost skipped into the street with the Gorou-puppet.<br/>
<br/>
But after she left, Sota crept up the stairs. The Academy took up five floors of the narrow building, and he had to scour all five before he found a classroom that was dark. He went in and sat in it, and after a quarter hour passed he closed his eyes and concentrated on summoning Gorou-puppet back. After he returned, they sat together in the dark room, saying nothing until an electronic chime had sounded twice, and the jeering laughs of the changing classrooms had died down again. Then Sota locked the door and went into the corner, where he and Gorou-puppet undressed.<br/>
<br/>
"So Momoka is at the end of her usefulness, eh?" the demon murmured in Sota's ear. Its presence came almost as a surprise to Sota for it had been some hours since it had spoken.<br/>
<br/>
"For now," Sota thought back. He wormed a fingertip at his throat until a little hole opened up. "She will be useful again probably. But for now, I want to make things very personal with Akiko."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," murmured the demon. "But don't take too long before devouring Hayato. I think I have a—" It paused, then made a noise like a jack-hammer drilling into a screaming pig. "Oh yeah. A <i>hard-on</i> for him. There are some senior demons I could name who would be in awe of how he handled things down in the lobby."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221111111211111111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 9
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sota's heart hammered in his chest all during the change of skin. The job of pulling off Momoka's skin took very little time, actually. He peeled her face and head off of his, and after struggling for a moment get his shoulders out of hers it was almost as easy as stripping a sausage of its casing. The air was very bracing on his skin after he had kicked the last traces of her away, as though he had slapped himself all over with alcohol. Afterward, he put his lips to the hole in her throat, blew, and filled her with his "breath of spirit." He only had to direct a thought at her, and Momoka-puppet began to dress.<br/>
<br/>
With the other it took a little longer. He did not ask the demon how it worked. He knew now that the demon was correct, that he only had to follow his instincts, and his instinct told him to put his lips to Gorou-puppet's bony Adam's apple. He sucked hard, once, and felt the skin pop open. A thin stream of air carrying a taste of smoke rushed down his windpipe and filled his throat. But somehow he was expecting that, and didn't gag. When he closed his mouth and opened his eyes, Gorou-puppet had gone, leaving only his skin on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
Sota picked it up, and in the darkness groped for the hair, then felt for the face and the throat. He found the hole and yanked it open. He no longer feared to rip the skin, as he had feared with Momoka, and was only concerned to pull Ota Gorou's skin up over his before the door should open—as he worked his eye would revert fearfully to the classroom door, where a crack of light shone around the edges. He thrust his legs into Gorou's, and hiked the skin up around his hips. For a moment only he hesitated before probing for the wiry hair about his crotch, and the flap of skin he would find there. But he was already rigid with anticipation, which made it easy to slide Gorou's prick over his. He wriggled the torso and arms into place, then pulled the head and face over his own. He pressed and pulled and plucked it and the rest of the skin until it felt as comfortable as his own. Then he pulled on Gorou's boxers and heavy trousers, his socks and canvas shoes, his short-sleeve button-up shirt; and draped the chain-and-pendant about his neck and tied the leather-strap watch to his wrist.<br/>
<br/>
On the third floor, where he had found a smelly restroom, Sota pushed Ota Gorou's long bangs out of his face and leaned into the mirror to stare at himself with wounded eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Ai, Taniguchi Hayato, you fucker!</i> he thought as his gorge rose until he wanted to vomit. <i>I am twice the man you are. But you have your money, which your crook father gets by stealing from factory men, and your clothes and looks to make up for it!</i> Sota flexed and nursed hard knuckles. <i>I could bust your pretty face and shred your pretty clothes, but the money— I can't fight the money!</i> Sota pressed a fist against the glass of the mirror. <i>My father was honest! </i>Honest!<i> compared to yours. He took money, but he took it from the factory owners, from the fuckers who had it, not from people who needed it! And so what if he kept it for himself, and gambled it away, and used it on whores while my mother kept to the kitchen and cried herself to sleep every night! He had as much a right to the money he ripped off as your father does! More right! But your father has bigger gangsters behind him, and they look out for each other, and mine had to die in a gutter because he and everyone else can't afford to work together because you don't leave enough scraps for them all!<br/>
<br/>
Well, I'll have what you have, Taniguchi Hayato! I'll take it all from you, and leave you howling, naked, in the cold, dark rain!</i><br/>
<br/>
It took Sota a moment to realize that the last promise was one of Gorou's own, and was not a furious vow in any way connected to his own revenge. It was Gorou's prayer almost every night.<br/>
<br/>
"But you won't have what Hayato has, Ota Gorou," he murmured at his reflection. He grinned. "Because there is no Ota Gorou anymore. You are only a skin that I, Sano Sota, wear for my purposes and pleasures. And when Hayato loses all that he has to someone else, he will lose it to me. Just as you've lost everything to me."<br/>
<br/>
He pushed his hair out of his face again, set his jaw, and strutted from the restroom.<br/>
<br/>
Outside, on the street again, he loitered on the street in front of a noodle shop until he saw a pack of boys in blazers and ties come boiling out of the Academy's front doors. He noted with satisfaction that they ignored him, just as the salary-men had ignored him, and had even warily avoided him as he glowered with up-thrust chin at passersby. Now he waited until saw Hayato and Yuuna leave together, and the boys who had tried to molest him earlier came out. As before, they ducked into a convenience store. Sota crossed the street and planted himself in front of the doors. When they returned, they tried to ignore him, but he stepped in front of one of them, and met his face with a contemptuous stare.<br/>
<br/>
The boy stared back, and his friends paused and murmured. But no one said anything or did anything.<br/>
<br/>
Then the boy Sota had chosen lowered his eyes and slunk away. Sota sneered "Fucker!" after him, but the boy only hunched his shoulders and hurried faster. Sota had earned himself a few dark scowls, but none of the others turned to challenge him.<br/>
<br/>
Later that night, when he was in bed, Sota peeled off the last of his clothes and thrust his hips at the ceiling as he grasped his rampant cock. <i>Damn, that Momoka certainly knew how to suck a guy off,</i> he thought. (Studiously he ignored the fact that it had been he himself who had done the sucking off. <i>It's almost like she had lots of experience at it. Who would she have done it on? Oh well, it doesn't matter. It's just awesome that my first time was with a girl who could do it so fucking good.</i> He concentrated on what it was like to have his member down her throat, and at the memory of her muscles and tongue, he arced and shot a great wad past his own face. <i>Fuck!</i> he thought as he gasped and panted afterward. <i>It's not as good. Not as good as with Momoka, not as good as it was before Momoka. She's spoiled me. I'm going to have to do it with girls exclusively from now on. No more amusing myself, all it does is remind me of how much better it could be. Well, I'll get Momoka over here tomorrow after school—</i><br/>
<br/>
Sota broke off with a grimace. <i>With Akiko,</i> he corrected himself, remembering Hayato's threats. <i>Yeah, with Akiko,</i> he thought. She and Gorou-puppet hadn't spoken after leaving the Academy, and had parted almost instantly after. But already Sota was thinking of the next step in his campaign against Akiko—the next-to-the-last stage in her destruction. <br/>
<br/>
After cleaning himself off, he rolled over and fell almost instantly asleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning, for the first time ever, Sota found himself looking forward to school. They weren't Gorou's instincts he was feeling. Gorou hated school more than Sota hated it, for he hated the teachers, and he knew that the teachers and most of the students hated him. That was why he had got so good with his knuckles. But though Gorou hated school, he did not fear it. Sota was afraid of school, but wearing Gorou's skin, he knew, he had nothing to fear.<br/>
<br/>
Gorou's mother, who was always tired because she worked sixteen hours a day, held down two jobs, both of them within walking distance of the shabby, one-room apartment that she and her son shared. His father had left a car behind when he died, and because Gorou's school was many miles away, Gorou drove it even though he was only thirteen. One of his father's gangster friends gave him free petrol, and Gorou was a skilled enough driver that he never got stopped by cops.<br/>
<br/>
Sota of course had never driven a car, but he felt a surge of power and pride as he raced along in heavy traffic to his school. Nobody looked at him as he parked out front, for fear of attracting his attention. He swaggered over to the corner of the building to wait for the first bell. He lit a gasper, and slowly sucked it down while watching the school yard from under hooded eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Just before first bell, the boy he was waiting for arrived. Sota dragged the cigarette down to the filter, and flung it away. He followed the boy in through the front doors, and seethed inwardly at the easy grins and laughs that the boy was sharing with his mates in the hallway. For a moment he hesitated, unsure whether to strike now, when Kosei was surrounded by friends, or to wait.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck it,</i> he thought, and he felt his hair bristling. <i>I am Ota Gorou! Let me just think they can molest me!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211111112111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 10
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What's this bullshit about you and Akiko?" Sota shoved his face into Kosei's as he barked the question. He had to go up on tiptoes, for the soccer player was almost half a head taller than him. "I'm hearing a lot of shit about you and her, you fucker!"<br/>
<br/>
Aiuchi Kosei stared at him. Then he laughed. Even his eyes—his lids folded down so far it was a wonder he could see out from under them—were curved up like smiles.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you're talking about, trashman's bastard," he taunted.<br/>
<br/>
"She cheated on me with you!" he spat back. "That's what I heard!"<br/>
<br/>
Kosei laughed again, and his friends, watching over his shoulder, guffawed and slapped at each other.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess she had a very loud dream about me," Kosei said. "Why isn't she dreaming about <i>you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Meet me in the equipment room after school!" Sota snarled. "If you don't want to die!"<br/>
<br/>
"You think you can molest me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I won't touch you if you come," Sota said, and he nursed a fist meaningfully. "But you will die of shame if you don't. All your friends see and hear me now. Don't you, fuckers?" Sota screamed at them. To Kosei: "If you don't meet me, they will know you are a coward! They will know that you shit yourself with terror because you cannot look a trashman's bastard in the face!"<br/>
<br/>
The grin vanished from Kosei's face, to be replaced with a snarl of anger. "I will be there, Ota Gorou," he warned.<br/>
<br/>
Sota stalked away. His palms still itched with the desire to hurt someone, though, and in a kind of spasm he shoved a random boy's head into a locker.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sota spent the school day slouching in the back of classrooms. He slumped in his desk and glared at the teachers as they explained history and algebra and languages. He only snarled when they asked him questions, and when he was too insolent he was made to kneel in the corner of the room with his arms raised high in the air. <i>Fuck them,</i> was his only thought as he suffered these ignominies. At least the other students were too smart to smirk or giggle at him while he was being punished. They knew that their punishment after class would be far worse if they did.<br/>
<br/>
Sota was a little surprised to find that Gorou had no friends. He himself had had no friends to speak of—only boys who were polite to him—and he saw every other boy in the school running with a pack of mates, he assumed that he alone in the school was friendless. But Gorou was friendless too. But where Sota merely felt sorry for himself for having no friends, Gorou seethed.<br/>
<br/>
<i>This is stupid,</i> Sota thought as he hunched up with folded arms in the back of one of the classrooms. <i>Who wants to be friends with a fucker like Gorou? He is mean and he mumbles when he answers you, and when he does speak clearly it's only to call people names and threaten them. If he was nice—</i><br/>
<br/>
But that didn't explain anything. Sota wasn't mean to anyone, and look at what the Elite Funtime Club had done to him. They had tried cursing him. So it didn't matter if you were mean like Gorou or nice like Sota. People were fuckers and would hurt you regardless.<br/>
<br/>
And at least people were scared of Gorou. He didn't run off and hide. He made <i>other people</i> hide. The only people who didn't hide from him were the other members of the Elite Funtime Club.<br/>
<br/>
He met with them for lunch. They all sat in the lunchroom, at the table in the center of the lunchroom. There was room for sixteen people at it, but they were the only five who sat at it. Even the girls who loved Hayato didn't eat at it, for Yuuna and Gorou ate there, and they chased off anyone who didn't belong. Gorou chased them off because he hated all of them, and Yuuna because she didn't want anyone being close to her beloved Hayato.<br/>
<br/>
Sota was surprised to see Momoka-puppet managed to sit with them. He half-expected that Yuuna would chase her out of the Elite Funtime Club and set all the other girls against her. But there she was at the table. Hayato was even sitting next to her, between her and Yuuna. Akiko was sitting across from them. Sota fell onto a seat next to her, and dropped his tray of food with a sharp bang. She jumped. "Fucker," she whispered at him.<br/>
<br/>
But Hayato's ears were very sharp. "Don't call your beloved that," he told her. "Gorou, put your arm around her. Very good," he said as Sota draped a heavy arm over Akiko's shoulders. She was stiff like a pole beneath it. "Akiko, put your arm around him." She shuddered hard, and put a limp hand on the other side of Sota's hips.<br/>
<br/>
"There's been too much drama around here," Yuuna hissed. Her eyes were almost pinched shut, and her mouth was like a haggard scar. "Ever since we cursed Sota. That was your fault, Momoka. If you hadn't—"<br/>
<br/>
"It was my idea," Hayato interrupted her. "Momoka suggested it. I had the idea to actually do it. Do you think I was wrong?" He sat up very straight and looked off into space over Sota's head. "We cursed that little bitch to death."<br/>
<br/>
Sota glared at Hayato from under his brow. The president and founder of the Elite Funtime Club was glamorously handsome. All the girls said he could be a movie star, and even many of the boys admitted to loving him. His eyes were large and his skin was smooth as the supplest silk. His brow was broad, and his face tapered down over strong cheekbones to a firm jaw and chin. His lips were rosy bows. He was stylish, too, with frosted hair. But he didn't have to primp to look good, and he was so cool and casual that even after his dark roots had started showing two weeks ago he hadn't done anything to color them again, but had only sliced his bangs so that they hung over his smooth brow like the blades of a scissor.<br/>
<br/>
He was handsome and popular and untroubled. He sat at middle table of the school lunch room and in a clear voice bragged about cursing a fellow student to death—a student who had never done him any harm.<br/>
<br/>
Sota looked at him and listened to him. With one hand he scooped sliced eel into his mouth. The other hand, under the table, he curled into a fist so hard that the nails bit into the palm of his hand.<br/>
<br/>
"It's still Momoka's fault," Yunna hissed. "Those stories she was spreading, and trying to cheat with—"<br/>
<br/>
"That's enough," Hayato said. His voice turned rough. "It's all straightened out now. Everyone do as they are told. Momoka," he said. "Now is the time to do what I told you this morning."<br/>
<br/>
But Momoka-puppet didn't answer. Hayato frowned. Sota realized the puppet was waiting for a nudge from him. <i>Obey Hayato,</i> he thought at it.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Hayato," Momoka-puppet said. "Gorou, yesterday was just a prank. I did it to be cruel to Akiko because I was jealous. I don't have a boyfriend, but she does. I don't love you, so you must not think that I do."<br/>
<br/>
"She was trying to break you apart," Hayato said. "That's all. She's a petty little bitch, that's why she did it. But it didn't work, did it?" His lips curved into a smile. "Look at them, Yuuna. Aren't they sweet together? Gorou and Akiko are more in love with each other than ever."<br/>
<br/>
Sota felt Akiko's fingernails digging into his hip, as though to gouge out a chunk of his flesh. He got his revenge by kissing her on the side of the head. She shuddered and shivered and retched.<br/>
<br/>
"Gorou is so affectionate," Hayato gloated. "He acts so tough on the outside, but inside I think he is just an overgrown puppy."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After lunch they all parted, except for Sota and Akiko, for she and Gorou had P.E. classes that period. Usually they walked together, for they were supposed to be going with each other. Today, though, Akiko tried losing Gorou in the hallway. "Akiko, wait!" Sota yelled, but Akiko ran harder and faster.<br/>
<br/>
She was a track star, but Gorou could still outpace her, and Sota caught her and slammed her up against a locker. She raised a hand to rake him across the face, but he caught both her hands and held them down between them. She shuddered and gagged as her hand touched his boner.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen to me, Akiko," Sota murmured into her face. "Hayato will not stop until we show him we are together again. We've got to show him we are good members of the Funtime Club."<br/>
<br/>
"Go to hell, Gorou!" Akiko turned from him. A tear fell from her eye.<br/>
<br/>
"We must be kind to each other," he insisted. "Who will be kind to us if we are not? Everyone hates us."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not true! Everyone hates you, but someone loves me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" Sota squeezed her wrists until she cried out. "Is it that fucker Kosei?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! I'll never tell you!"<br/>
<br/>
She tore herself away and ran off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111111121111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 11
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The door to the equipment room opened five minutes after the last classes let out. Sota was already waiting inside when Kosei came in. "Did you come alone?" he asked the soccer player.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't disrespect me," Kosei sneered back. "Do anything you want to me, but don't disrespect me."<br/>
<br/>
"That's the last thing I would do," Sota replied. "I just want to be sure we're alone. What I have to say is for your ears only."<br/>
<br/>
"What is it?" Kosei's brow lowered with suspicion.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have a hard-on for Akiko?"<br/>
<br/>
Kosei scowled. "What do you care if I do? An it doesn't matter if you care," he added. "If I had a hard-on for her I could take her from you even if—"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want to fuck with Taniguchi Hayato?"<br/>
<br/>
Kosei's eyes opened fractionally wider. Then he smirked. "You mean your boyfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think I care if you disrespect me?" Sota retorted. "Call me a trashman's bastard as much as you like. I <i>am</i> a trashman's bastard. But that still makes me better than Taniguchi Hayato."<br/>
<br/>
"You think so!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know so. He's not my boyfriend. I hate him. I hate him more than I hate you, and you're the fucker that Akiko cheated on me with."<br/>
<br/>
Kosei's scowl darkened. "What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I hate Taniguchi Hayato. Akiko does too. She won't let him touch her, even though he begs. She let <i>you</i> touch her, though—"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't touch Akiko!" Kosei said. "Whoever said I did is a filthy liar!"<br/>
<br/>
"So you don't have a hard-on for her? Are you a faggot?"<br/>
<br/>
Kosei raised a fist. "I don't have to tell you anything about—"<br/>
<br/>
"I wish you didn't say you never touched her," Sota said. "I was going to let you have her. She disgusts me now. Even though you say you didn't touch her, now when I think of her pussy I think of your face, and it makes me puke. So if you won't touch her and I won't touch her, who is going to touch her? She has to have someone touch her. She aches for it. She's a slut. She drools when she thinks of cock. She drips and stains her shorts when she thinks of cock." <br/>
<br/>
Sota felt himself getting hard as he bragged on what a filthy, lustful whore Ueno Akiko was.<br/>
<br/>
"She can't have my cock anymore," Sota went on, "because she disgusts me. If you won't give her cock, where will she go for it? She'll have to go to Hayato. He's begged her for it. She told me so when she became my slut. He begged her, but she was loyal to Yuuna, so she wouldn't cheat with him. He was crying, he was begging so hard. That's how bad he degraded himself. It disgusted her, she doesn't want that. She wants to swallow cock, that's what turns her on. But she wouldn't swallow his cock after he begged her, because he begged her like a little bitch. But now she'll go to him. Fuck Yuuna. That's how much of a slobbering slut Akiko is, she'll cheat with her best friend's boyfriend because she needs it so bad. Do you want that?"<br/>
<br/>
Kosei had been standing very still all through this. He hadn't so much as blinked. <br/>
<br/>
But now, finally, he stirred, and Sota thought he could hear his muscles creak as he loosened them.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," Kosei said. "Maybe. I wouldn't even have to go with Akiko, it would fuck things up for Hayato with Yuuna if she just found out how Hayato feels."<br/>
<br/>
"So then he'd just break up with her and go with Akiko. He would be happy to, he's not getting any from Yuuna anyway. She's a frigid bitch, you put your cock in her and it gets frostbite. That's what Hayato says. He would love being with Akiko, because she's like hot syrup. He has such a hard-on for her. So imagine if Akiko went with you. It would fuck Hayato up so bad. The girl he has a hard-on for, with the guy he hates more than anyone else in the school."<br/>
<br/>
Kosei stared. Then he said, "It would fuck you up to. You'd lose Akiko. The whole school would know."<br/>
<br/>
"So it would fuck me up." Sota shrugged. "I'm a trashman's bastard, do you give a shit about me? I don't care if it fucks me up. It would fuck Hayato up worse, even though no one would know. He wouldn't show it, but I would know. You would know too. He couldn't do anything about it. But he would die inside."<br/>
<br/>
Kosei's jaw clenched and unclenched. "This is what you wanted to talk to me about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you surprised? You thought I wanted to fuck you up? No, I want you to fuck Hayato up. I don't care what you tell your asshole friends about what we did in here. You can even tell them you fucked me up. I don't care. That's how much I hate Hayato."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you hate him so much?" Kosei exclaimed. He flushed. "You're a member of the Elite Funtime Club with him!"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know why I'm a member?" Sota said. The question ended in a gurgle as he felt his throat close up, for all of Gorou's instincts suddenly turned and fought him. It was almost like Gorou himself had come back from Hell and was trying to choke him to stop him from telling the truth about it. <br/>
<br/>
But Sota flexed all over, trapping Gorou inside him. The bully could only whimper and mewl as Sota, all gloating, shared Gorou's most terrible secret. <br/>
<br/>
"I am a member of the Elite Funtime Club," Sota said, "because I will die if I'm not."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
A hard shiver ran all through Sota as he overmastered Gorou's skin again. Then he said:<br/>
<br/>
"Hayato made me to join. He had his friends bring me here, to this very room. I fought them. I tore at them. But there were too many, they threw me in here and left me with Hayato. He told me to listen to him, that if I didn't listen to him he and his asshole friends would take me down to the river. Maybe we'll put you in the river, he said. Or maybe we'll put you in the hospital. Or maybe we'll put you in the morgue. We don't care, he said. We'll fuck you up and throw you in the river and we'll see where you wind up. We'll take bets, it will be like roulette. So I listened to him.<br/>
<br/>
"He said he was forming a club. The Elite Funtime Club. It was just him and me and Yuuna at first. Akiko joined later, then Momoka. But he wanted me to be in it. I was a founding member. You and me will be the only guys in it, he said. I asked him why he wanted me in his new club, when he just said he wanted to fuck me up and put me in the river. He said, Because I want someone who can fuck up my enemies. You can fuck up anyone in school, he told me. I've watched you, he said, and I know you're the toughest fucker in the school, no one can touch you or match you, if it's just you and them. I want you as my sword, my club, he said, you'll be the guy who fucks up the people I tell you to fuck up. And no one will be able to fuck you up, he said, they won't even be able to get together to do it, not like my bastard friends did with you just now. Because you'll be special, you will be the only other guy in my club, not even my bastard friends will be part of it, but I'll tell them that if anyone touches you that all of us will go fuck them up. So you'll be safe that way. You can fuck up anyone you want without them being able to fuck you up. But, he told me, you <i>have</i> to fuck up the people I tell you too. Or else you will die.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's how come I hate him," Sota concluded. Kosei had turned pale under his nut-colored skin. "Because he made me his bitch. I used to fuck people up for the fun of it. Now I have to. It's like a job, like I'm a salary-man for him. And sometimes, just to make me sick, he makes me fuck up people I don't even want to fuck up."<br/>
<br/>
Kosei looked ill by now. "So that's why you want me to fuck Hayato up? By going with Akiko?"<br/>
<br/>
Sota nodded. "It's the only way I can hurt him. Don't make me go down on you," he added, and Kosei jumped. "Because I hate Hayato so much  that I just might suck you off, if that's what it takes for you to do this for me."<br/>
<br/>
To his relief, Kosei looked revolted. But he didn't agree to anything. "I'll think about it," he said.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't think too long. Akiko can control herself for only a day or two. She'll be crawling to Hayato soon, begging for cock, if you don't move on her before then."<br/>
<br/>
Kosei's eyes widened, so that the whites were almost visible. He nodded slowly. Then, walking awkwardly as though his feet hurt, he left Sota.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think he'll do it?" the demon gurgled in Sota's ear.<br/>
<br/>
"That faggot? He shits himself when a girl looks at him. But he hates Hayato enough that he probably will."<br/>
<br/>
"So this is what middle school is like," the demon burbled. "If it wasn't so"—he made a noise like raptor claws shredding through steel plates—"cold out there, I think I'd start taking my vacations in one. It really is very homey."<br/>
<br/>
"That word you said," Sota murmured. "The word in Hell's language. I like it. Do you think you could teach me to say it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You are already speaking the language," the demon said in a voice like bubbling tar. "Now it's just a matter of getting the pronunciation right."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221111111211111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 12
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sota texted Akiko when he got home. <i>we have to be lovers in front of hayato,</i> he said. <i>he will make sure we die if we do not.</i><br/>
<br/>
She said, <i>i will be friends with you at school. that is all.</i><br/>
<br/>
Later, after Sota had got a text from Kosei and had replied, he sent a text to Akiko: <i>come to my house after school tomorrow. we must try to be friends outside school.</i><br/>
<br/>
Akiko said, <i>fuck u.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sota said, <i>do not blame me. it was momoka's fault. we must hate her together.</i><br/>
<br/>
Akiko said, <i>i already hate momoka.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sota said, <i>we must hate her together.</i> When Akiko didn't reply, he said, <i>i do not understand why hayato will not let me fuck up kosei. it is like he really wants you to cheat on me with kosei, even though we are not really together.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sota worried that Akiko would not understand and would not do anything with that hint. He was very relieved when, later that night he got a text from Hayato: <i>I want you to fuck up Kosei at school.</i> When Sota asked him, <i>tomorrow?</i> Hayato said, <i>soon.</i><br/>
<br/>
Sota sent that message to Kosei. He and Kosei texted some more after that. Then Sota erased all the texts from Gorou's phone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next day Sota fucked up half a dozen boys, one of them on the soccer field so bad as part of a tackle that the boy had to go the nurse's station. When school was out, he thought very hard and very specifically at Momoka-puppet.<br/>
<br/>
He then went home and waited. He heard and felt a most peculiar singing in his head. It took him most of the afternoon to realize it was the demon. "Oh, I'm just humming to myself," it told him in a very slithery voice. "Isn't it suspenseful, waiting to see if the plan will work?" Sota felt like claws were being dragged down the inside of his chest. Yet somehow he didn't mind.<br/>
<br/>
It was close to dinner time before he got the first text. It was a video, shot from across the street, of Akiko's front door. At the start of it, it showed Aiuchi Kosei going inside. An hour passed without a break. At the end, it showed him leaving. Shortly after, Gorou's phone received a second text, this one from Kosei: <i>just had delightful afternoon with akiko. she is so sympathetic. i like her a lot and think i will be spending much more time with her. thank you so much gorou.</i><br/>
<br/>
"I think that's a direct hit," the demon gloated. "I would drink a toast to you if only I had some spiced magma."<br/>
<br/>
Sota also grinned to himself as he sent Akiko a text: <i>WHAT THE FUCK U BITCH DO U WANT US TO DIE GET OVER HERE NOW!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Akiko's face was black with anger when Sota let her in, but he was ready with a prepared rage of his own.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"I don't care if you die!"</i> he screamed at her. "But leave me out of it!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you're talking about!" she screamed back.<br/>
<br/>
"You cheated on me again, with Kosei, after Hayato told us we had to be together again!"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't cheat on you! I haven't—" But she caught herself and had to swallow before continuing the lie. "I haven't even seen him since—"<br/>
<br/>
Sota shoved his cell phone in her face. "Momoka sent me this! That little bitch was spying on you today! Who is that going into your house?"<br/>
<br/>
Akiko turned very pale. "We didn't—! He just came over to talk! He— He heard that I was having a hard time with—"<br/>
<br/>
"He was there for an hour, Akiko!" Spit flew out of Sota's mouth as he screamed at her. "And look at this text he sent me! Kosei! That fucker! He's bragging about how much you like him! He thinks he will be spending more time with you!"<br/>
<br/>
Akiko flushed. "So what? We're not really together, Gorou, so you can't be jealous!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not jealous, but what will Hayato think when Momoka sends him that video?"<br/>
<br/>
Akiko lost that flush. Now there was green in her cheeks. "That little bitch would do that, wouldn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hayato will blame me, Akiko! <i>Me!</i> He'll say I can't control you! He will punish me even worse than you! He'll call you a slut, he'll say you can't control yourself, but me, he'll—"<br/>
<br/>
Akiko struck Sota hard across the face. Her eyes flashed. "Don't call me a slut!" she ground out between her teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to slap Hayato when he calls you a slut?" Sota snarled back. "I don't care what happens to you, Akiko! But when he fucks <i>me</i> up—!"<br/>
<br/>
"So he'll fuck you up worse than me!" Akiko's eyes blazed. "I don't give a shit! I'll let him call me a slut if he fucks you up!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota turned the phone toward her again. "But what will he say when he sees this text?" he demanded. "Then he'll know you're not just a slut. He'll know that you purposefully disobeyed him, that you purposefully disrespected him. Do you know what he'll let me do to you then?"<br/>
<br/>
Akiko gasped, and her eyes widened in horror.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to, Akiko," Sota said, and he suddenly broke down crying. He sank to his knees and put his face in his hands. "I really do love you. I act like a fucker and a bastard with you, but it's because I'm so scared of you. So scared that you won't like me. Please, Akiko!" He raised a tear-stained face to her. "We've got to fix this! We've got to fix this so that Hayato doesn't think it's our fault. We're being framed, you see that, don't you? It's Momoka. Momoka and Kosei. They're framing us," he repeated as Akiko frowned in puzzlement. "Why would Momoka be outside your house, waiting for Kosei, if she didn't set it up with him? Did you just talk with Kosei? He could pretend he did anything with you. He could tell Hayato that you sucked him off, that you were begging for his cock, and with Momoka videoing your house, Hayato might believe him."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!" Akiko exclaimed. "We'll tell Hayato that Momoka is trying to frame us!"<br/>
<br/>
"That won't work. It won't be enough. We have to <i>show</i> him that we are obeying him and respecting him. That we are doing even more than he told us to. That's the only way that he will believe us over Momoka and Kosei."<br/>
<br/>
"How will we do that?" Akiko asked. But from the fear in her eyes, Sota knew that she knew the answer.<br/>
<br/>
And when, on clumsy feet she followed him as he led her by the hand into the bedroom, Sota knew that she understood that she had no choice.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry that I'll have to talk dirty," he whispered to her as he opened his trousers and let out his cock, which was already stiffening. "You won't have to say anything," he went on as he positioned his cell phone so as to capture the action. "I will do all the talking. But after I hit Record, we will have to be convincing."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sota was very convincing as he called to Akiko and moaned encouragements at her while she sucked him off. He was entirely sincere. It troubled him a little that Akiko wasn't as good as Momoka had been at swallowing and massaging cock. Sota thought that a girl like Akiko should have an easier time pretending enthusiasm than he had had, even when he'd had Momoka's lusts to fortify him. Sota tried to make up for it by being elaborately enthusiastic as Gorou. "Oh, Akiko! Your mouth and throat are so warm, so wet. My cock! You are making it so hard! It has never been this hard. Oh God, it is straining so hard! I think—! No, I'm holding it back now! I thought for a second there you were—! Nngh! I'll give you a warning when I'm going to cum! I don't want you to choke, because I think when I cum it's going to be a gigantic wad that you are inspiring me with!"<br/>
<br/>
Of course, he was not in time to warn her, and she choked and gagged and spat up his cum all over his bedspread. Sota didn't mind. He massaged his cock at camera lens, and grinned into it, as if to say, <i>Do you see how happy she made me?</i> He poked the screen to stop recording.<br/>
<br/>
"Thank God that's over!" Akiko exclaimed. "Now I think I want to die!"<br/>
<br/>
"Good," Sota gloated. "I don't think there's anything left for you, Akiko."<br/>
<br/>
As she stared at him with puzzlement creasing her brow, he stabbed her in the throat with a sharp forefinger.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222211111112111111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 13
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Rrhmm," the demon rumbled as Sota stripped Akiko's skin of Akiko's clothes. "You certainly drew it out before taking her. Will you take as long with the others?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you wanted the suspense to last," Sota retorted. He had entirely lost his squeamishness when playing with the flayed remnants of his victims, and he had a firm grasp of Akiko's skin by the hank of hair at the top as with his free hand he pulled and scraped her bicycle shorts and tank top off. Akiko's empty eye sockets and jaw sagged, as though she were screaming at the sight of his naked body, for Sota had already stripped himself down to Gorou's nakedness.<br/>
<br/>
"I do. Only I've been away from Hell for several days now. Usually we demons are able to complete our assignments in a matter of hours if not minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you afraid they will accuse you of malingering?"<br/>
<br/>
The demon loosed a rattling laugh, like a chorus of snare drums. "No one malingers out here if they can help it. Really! You should try visiting one of the outer moons of your solar system—someplace where ammonia falls from the sky like snow—to get an idea of how cold it is out here for me. No, I'm only concerned they'll think I'm <i>incompetent.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to rush things," Sota said stubbornly. "I took my time because I wanted Akiko to suffer." He loosened the tiny hole at his throat, and yanked Gorou's face backward off his own. "So many people hate her. Not just me, but the people who's skins I was wearing." As he had lost his shyness with Akiko's skin, he had lost his gingerly touch with handling a skin that he wore, and he rudely pulled his shoulder's from Gorou's. "We were all of us enjoying it too much to rush it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, so I see. I've been enjoying it too. So I suppose that I have been malingering, in a sense. I will have many stories to tell when I get back to Hell. Many other demons will be quite jealous of me."<br/>
<br/>
Sota pulled Gorou's skin down around his hips, then sat on the bed to pull the other boy's legs off his. The cold once he was out of the skin was more than bracing, it was like being in a meat locker, and he was shivering hard as he clutched at Akiko's skin. He yanked the hole at her throat open and jammed both his feet in at once.<br/>
<br/>
"I think I will not take as long with the others," he muttered as he pushed his legs into hers. The changes seemed to be taking a much shorter time, with the skins coming on much more easily. "With Hayato, I think the fun will be entirely in devouring him. I don't want him to lose what he's got, the way I took things from Akiko, because I want it for when I <i>am</i> him."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that who you are going to be, when you finished with this?"<br/>
<br/>
Sota paused. He had Akiko's skin up over his pelvis and crotch now, and his cock had vanished inside her pussy, which was prickly. (He guessed that unlike Momoka she needed to shave it to keep it smooth.) "I don't know," he said. "I mean, I can switch between them. Can't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," said the demon. "But the king demon—which is in a sense what Hayato is—isn't always the one to have the most fun. Our Infernal Poobah, for instance, is stuck behind a desk most of the time. We are all us damned, you know, us demons. As the King of Hell is the most damned of all, his suffering is the greatest."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. He has to spend all eternity reading our reports and scribbling notes in the margins. He's at the bottom of the pit, too, so there isn't even a good view out the window of the Great Chamber."<br/>
<br/>
Sota wondered if his leg was being pulled. But then he put the thought away as Akiko's breasts plumped out on his chest.<br/>
<br/>
Ueno Akiko was amazingly fit, and even while Sota left her face and hair bunched up on the back of his neck, he went into the bathroom to admire his new body as best he could in the mirror over the sink. He knew that Akiko was a star athlete at the school. She was the best at track, she was truly excellent at soccer and volleyball, she could outplay many of the boys at basketball, and Sota had heard that she could even shoot a bow and arrow. Her legs were strong and dark, and her hips slim and toned. Her stomach showed ridges, and her lithe biceps writhed under taut skin. Her breasts were small and pointed, though, more like bananas than pears, and there was a livid welt across her buttocks, presumably from where Yuuna had flogged her as punishment for making trouble (as Yuuna thought) with Kosei.<br/>
<br/>
Sota returned to the single room of the apartment and dressed without putting her face on. "What are you doing?" the demon asked. "You're not going out like that, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm waiting to put her face on," Sota replied. "She's going to remember going down on Gorou. That's not going to be fun."<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose not. But do not forget! You have been very careful and successful up to now."<br/>
<br/>
Still Sota delayed, until after he had her tight bicycle shorts on, her bare feet tucked inside some canvas sneakers, and her bra and tank wrapped about his torso. He left her jacket off, though, until after he had inflated Gorou-puppet and watched him dress. "Better delete that video Momoka shot," Sota told it. "And the texts from Kosei." <br/>
<br/>
Sota felt a twinge inside his pussy as Gorou-puppet silently obliged. <i>I'm going to make them all happy by becoming them,</i> he thought. <i>Maybe I can make Akiko and Gorou happy by genuinely putting them together.</i><br/>
<br/>
So it was in that thoughtful frame of mind that he pulled Akiko's face up over his head and snapped it into place over his own. He rubbed his new face all over, shifted her hair about until it felt like his own and not a wig sitting atop his scalp, and closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders while waiting for Akiko's memories and traits to come to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa!" he gasped when they did. His eyes popped open. Gorou-puppet was eyeing him speculatively. "Don't get any ideas, fucker! I will never touch you and I will never let you touch me again, not as long as I'm— Mm!" Sota broke off and fell against the wall. He rubbed his palms up and down the front of his shorts. "If you are good and I am in the mood, though, I might let you watch one day." Gorou's brow crinkled, but Sota didn't explain. He just shoved himself into Akiko's polyester jacket and zipped it up to his chin. The fabric crackled as he stepped into the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
"So it's like that, is it?" he said to his reflection. Akiko's hair was cut even shorter than Gorou's or Hayato's, and Sota pushed it back and forth. "Completely obvious when you see it."<br/>
<br/>
"I wondered," gurgled the demon. "But I didn't want to spoil it for you with lascivious speculations if they turned out to be wrong."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. And don't you see now what a complete bastard Hayato is," Sota said as he left Gorou's apartment. He said it aloud, but his lips hardly moved, so that he seemed to be humming to himself. He took the stairs three at a time to the bottom. "He knows too, and <i>still</i> he stuck Akiko and Gorou together. A bastard like Gorou who wanted to fuck her so badly that it hurt even to think about her, and a bitch like Akiko who—"<br/>
<br/>
Sota unlocked Akiko's bike and straddled it. The seat horn pressed against the pussy he had stolen as he pumped his way down the street, dodging traffic with Akiko's honed reflexes. His tawny legs were prickling with sweat after only a few blocks, but it was only half from exertion. Mostly it was a sympathetic sweat as he excited his pussy with the bicycle seat and thoughts of fun to come.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sota pleaded by text, but the night was plunged into darkness before he received permission to bicycle up to the top of the hills where Hayato and Yuuna's parents lived. There were dozens of houses up there, behind a common wall and spreading over large lots with leafy trees between. Insects buzzed in the sultry night air as Sota slid to a stop at the edge of the small park with the ornamental temple in the middle. A shadow detached itself from the bole of one of the trees.<br/>
<br/>
Ishida Yuuna had changed out of her school uniform to a pair of creamy shorts and a sailor-style top. She looked like the tennis player that she pretended to be. (Akiko knew that Yuuna was actually awful, and could hardly hold a racket the right way.) "I can give you ten minutes," Yuuna archly declared.<br/>
<br/>
"I only want ten seconds, if you'll tell me what I want to hear," Sota said.<br/>
<br/>
Yuuna said nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"It's only us now," Sota pleaded. "I truly hate Gorou and Momoka now. I only thought I hated them before, but now I despise them. And Hayato is so cruel I can't even look at him. There is only you now, Yuuna. In all this damned club—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't curse the club, Akiko," Yuuna ordered. "You asked to join."<br/>
<br/>
"But it was your idea! And it was the only decent thing Taniguchi Hayato ever did for me. Letting me join." <br/>
<br/>
Sota stepped up close to Yuuna. He put his lips close to hers.<br/>
<br/>
"So that we could make each other happy," he groaned.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222111111121111111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 14
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Is that all that you want from me?" Ishida Yuuna asked. "Ten seconds for me to say that I forgive you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ten seconds to forgive me," Sota gasped, "and ten minutes, ten hours, ten days, Yuuna! For me to show you that I deserve it!"<br/>
<br/>
Even in the dark, Sota saw Yuuna's lips twitch. She turned and walked slowly toward the ornamental temple that stood in the middle of the park. Insects sang and croaked in the night.<br/>
<br/>
"You still don't understand what you did wrong," Yuuna said, "so you still haven't atoned for it. Forgiveness can only come later."<br/>
<br/>
"But how can I atone when you won't tell me how I've sinned?" Sota cried.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what makes it so terrible," Yuuna retorted. She folded her arms and turned her back on Sota. "If you really loved me, Akiko, you wouldn't need to be told."<br/>
<br/>
Sota threw his head back and screamed silently at the sky. His pussy was aching with desire for Yuuna, for the feel of Yuuna's wet pussy against his own. It was a constant throb, in the back of Akiko's mind when not in the front of her shorts. <br/>
<br/>
And that little bitch Momoka had spoilt it all. Deep down, Sota gurgled happily at the thought of the misery he'd caused Akiko in such a few short days.<br/>
<br/>
Akiko had wept as, upstairs in the same room of the Academy as Sota had stripped Momoka's skin and put on Gorou's, Yuuna had thrashed her bare ass with the pointing stick. But it wasn't the pain of the beating that so broke Akiko's spirit. It was the hard tears that Yuuna herself had shed as she bitterly reproached Akiko for her "betrayal" of her friend. <i>I didn't cheat with Kosei,</i> Akiko had insisted, <i>you know me better than that!<br/>
<br/>
It's not that,</i> Yuuna had retorted. <i>I know that Momoka is a lying little bitch. We should never have let her in the club.<br/>
<br/>
Then what did I do wrong?<br/>
<br/>
</i>Whack!<i><br/>
<br/>
That's for asking impertinent questions you don't know the answer to!<br/>
<br/>
But I </i>don't<i> know the answer!<br/>
<br/>
</i>Whack!<i><br/>
<br/>
Then that's for being too stupid to know the obvious answers to impertinent questions!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Even detectives are given clues to solve mysteries!" Sota now pleaded.<br/>
<br/>
"They search for them. You will have to search for them here too," Yuuna said. Her voice was now Arctic in its chill.<br/>
<br/>
"But be kind to me in the meantime, Yuuna! You know I did not cheat with Kosei! You know I would never cheat with Gorou! But you know I have to go with him. Hayato orders me to. Do you want me to disobey Hayato?"<br/>
<br/>
Yuuna wheeled around and lunged at Sota so fast that her whip-like ponytail slapped the skin-wearing boy in the face. "Never <i>think</i> of disobeying or disrespecting Hayato!" she hissed.<br/>
<br/>
Sota blinked. He knew—from what he had learned inside the skins of three different members of the Elite Funtime Club—that Yuuna and Hayato were practically betrothed, even though they were only fourteen. It made sense, then, that Yuuna wished to see Akiko obey Hayato's orders, even when they ran completely against the love that Yuuna and Akiko had for each other. But the vehemence she had just shown, when Sota had hinted at disobeying the president, even when saying that he shouldn't, shocked him.<br/>
<br/>
"I never would disobey him," Sota insisted. "But Yuuna!" He fumbled for her hands, but Yuuna shoved them into her pockets. "He put Gorou between us. Are you really going to leave me alone with Gorou?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know why Hayato makes you go with Gorou. You look like a dyke. You act like a dyke. Everyone would think you're a dyke if you weren't with him, if he wasn't there to fuck up anyone who looks at you. And what would people think if they thought we had a dyke in the club?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe they'd think I lust for Momoka," Sota muttered.<br/>
<br/>
Yuuna gasped and struck Sota across the face. Sota cried out and stumbled back a step.<br/>
<br/>
"I swear to God," Yuuna said in a voice that trembled, "that I will set the she-wolves on you if you ever say something like that again!" <i>She-wolves</i> was Yuuna's name for the pack of girls that surrounded her, like the pack of boys that surrounded Hayato, and that enforced her wishes on the school. Sota quailed at the threat.<br/>
<br/>
"I only mean that I would do anything to protect you, to save you from shame," Sota humbly insisted. "Look at what I have done for you with Gorou."<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly!" Yuuna's cry was like a despairing cry of triumph. She turned and stalked away, and by the straightness of her back, Sota knew there was no point in pursuing her. He walked slowly back to the bicycle he had thrown to the ground, and after picking it up and brushing it down thoughtfully, he mounted it and let gravity pull him back down the hill, from the magnificent crown where the Blessed like Yuuna and Hayato lived to the stained roads and narrow apartment houses where the other members of the Funtime Club flopped.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Exactly.</i><br/>
<br/>
Yuuna had exclaimed the word like it was the climax of a proof that Sota had delivered. <i>Look what I have done for you with Gorou,</i> is what he had said, and Yuuna had reacted like it was a clinching confession. But what had Akiko done with Gorou? Nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Sota turned the problem over and over in his head when he was back at his new home. He showered, taking a thoughtfully long time to wipe the sweat from his legs and arms and hips and torso, and to take a carefully long time to soap Akiko's skin all over and to rinse it clean. Afterwards he changed into floppy shorts and a too-large t-shirt, and put himself in bed. Now, even as he fingered himself without result, he pondered the enigma that Yuuna had left him with.<br/>
<br/>
Akiko had done nothing with Gorou that she hadn't done before Yuuna decided that she (Akiko) needed to be punished. Sota, in Momoka's skin, had spread lies about her, but that wasn't Akiko's fault, and Yuuna had said that she believed Akiko's denials. So what had Akiko done?<br/>
<br/>
It was only as he was drifting off to sleep, his heavy lids closing after bruising his eyes by staring at the dark ceiling, that a new avenue leading to a possible answer opened up to him. Perhaps it was true that Akiko had done nothing. But perhaps Momoka's mischief had led to a situation that Yuuna found intolerable, a situation in which Akiko would or would be forced to do something that required forgiveness. And what would that be?<br/>
<br/>
Sota sat up in bed, and groaned. He would never have seen the solution—Akiko would never have seen it either—but for the torment he had put Akiko through at Gorou's apartment. He had been able to force Akiko into sucking him off by showing that it was the only way to satisfy Hayato. Akiko had never had to do anything like that before. Even after they had started going together, she and Gorou had little to do with each other. She despised him as a lowlife, and he was too frightened to do more than hang out with her. But thanks to the lies that Sota had spread, Akiko and Gorou would have to be more demonstrative, which would infuriate Yuuna.<br/>
<br/>
As he lay back down, Sota felt a cold wave of relief wash over him. He was correct in his deductions, he was sure. Akiko had known in her heart what the trouble was, but she had had trouble seeing it. When Sota, as Momoka, had first spread the lie, Akiko was panicked at the trouble it would cause, but had not clearly seen what exactly the trouble would be. All she knew was that it would anger Hayato, and that Hayato would require a terrible penance. Now Sota saw that that penance was itself an insult to Yuuna.<br/>
<br/>
"So you revenged yourself on Akiko even more completely than you thought you had," the demon observed. "Things are much more straightforward in Hell, you know." It made a noise like the Kraken farting out a maelstrom of bubbles from the deepest trenches of the ocean, which Sota recognized as a yawn. "We just stick a pitchfork in it and call it done. I must say, the <i>ingenious</i>—" The word was not a word but an awful racket, yet Sota understood it perfectly despite the Hellish pronunciation. "The <i>ingenious</i> webs you weave to ensnare and torture each other are really—" It yawned again. "Really, erm." It trailed off, and the words turned into a snore like a dump truck tumbling down a rocky slope.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yes,</i> thought Sota as he lay back on the pillow. He was wide awake now. <i>My revenge really hurt Akiko. But I don't see any way to inflict a similar pain on Yuuna.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221111111211111111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: School for Demons, Chapter 15
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sota's deductions left him in a dilemma. On the one hand, he thought he could now make a proper apology to Yuuna, which would give him what he now so craved: a path to Yuuna's pussy. But on the other, he suspected that Yuuna was herself in great pain from the absence of Akiko's affections, and what she had called a "betrayal" by her best friend. Sota wondered if there was a way to take this pain and to twist it into something excruciating, as he had with Akiko.<br/>
<br/>
He thought about it the next morning as he pumped the bicycle to school. He thought about it in Akiko's classes, where he glowered at the teacher and strove mightily (as Akiko strove mightily) to comprehend the lectures. Akiko, like Gorou, had no great academic ability, but unlike Gorou her competitive streak was so hard that even when she knew she was fading badly behind the other students, she fought to survive the rigors of middle school math and other subjects.<br/>
<br/>
At lunch, Sota ate quietly and ignored the other members of the club, though he did put his arm around Gorou-puppet when Hayato ordered him to. Yuuna, he noticed, at her lunch with a frozen expression and did not look in his direction.<br/>
<br/>
The afternoon was better, for Akiko excelled at physical education, and as Sota had enjoyed bullying students while wearing Gorou's skin, so now in Akiko's skin he berated the other girls for failing to do as well as he. More than one girl ran back to the changing room in tears as Akiko chased them, lashing them with his tongue.<br/>
<br/>
After school, Sota hung over the handle bars of Akiko's bike and watched as a silvery Lexus drew up. Hayato, who was out front with a pack of admiring friends and sycophants, ignored the car until it honked. He cast a supercilious eye over his shoulder at it, then after lazily hiking a pack onto his shoulder he sauntered over and slid into the back seat. The Lexus pulled smoothly away. Hayato was texting on his phone as it passed.<br/>
<br/>
As Sota pondered the move he was contemplating, he had to look up and over as Gorou-puppet swaggered up. "You were thinking about me," he said.<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose I was," Sota admitted. "Where did you get the cut?" There was a thin gash across Gorou-puppet's cheekbone.<br/>
<br/>
"Kosei gave it to me. I gave him something better."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pow pow pow! Ungh!" Gorou-puppet mimed punching himself in the face. "It's an improvement. That fucker wasn't nearly as beautiful as everyone thinks, and now his ugliness really shows."<br/>
<br/>
Sota nodded. "Hayato said he wanted you to fuck Kosei up," he reminded himself. "So Kosei knows now you were telling him a lot of shit about me, and you, and Hayato?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right." A troubled expression crossed Gorou-puppet's face. "It doesn't make sense somehow." Then the expression cleared up. "But it made sense the way I explained it to Kosei. P-kew, p-kew, p-<i>kkkewww!</i>" He mimed punching Sota.<br/>
<br/>
Sota smiled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Yuuna stalking over to the street, where a black Lexus now waited. As soon as Yuuna was in it, Sota wiped a fingertip across Gorou-puppet's cut, then pulled him by his chin up to the puppet's face. He closed his eyes and kissed Gorou-puppet long and lingeringly, putting his tongue in the puppet's mouth and sucking on the tongue that the puppet returned him. Not until he heard the Lexus slide past did he release the puppet.<br/>
<br/>
"Come back to my apartment?" Gorou-puppet asked.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Do you have to ask that?</i> Sota thought. The puppet jerked back, and on stiff, almost mechanical legs walked away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Hayato went to two post-school academies, but he had an hour-long break between them, which he usually took at a Starbucks halfway between them. Sota went home and changed into a fresh set of gym clothes, then texted Hayato: <i>club meeting at six?</i> That was the code Akiko used to let him know that she wanted to talk to him without any of his friends around. The reply came forty minutes later: <i>ok.</i><br/>
<br/>
The club president was lounging in a back room with his feet up on the chair opposite. He raised his chin and gazed insolently down his nose at Sota as the skin-wearer approached. Hayato's blazer was open, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and his tie was loosened. With his sleeves pushed up almost to the elbows, he looked like he was posing for a photo shoot like the leader of a J-pop band.<br/>
<br/>
When he refused to move his feet, Sota had to pull up a third chair and sit in the aisle while Hayato took up the entire table. "Yo, what's up?" Hayato said.<br/>
<br/>
"I want you to know I'm doing everything I can to make it look like Gorou and I are going together. I even kissed him in front of the school," Sota added as Hayato stared back coldly.<br/>
<br/>
The club president sucked in a cheek. "Your behavior is acceptable," he said.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, when can I stop?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop?" Hayato's eyebrows shot up. "Never."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Never?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Do you like being a member of the club? Do you like the privilege of meeting with me alone?" Hayato swept his open hand in an arc to take in the room. Sota now noticed that there were many tables and chairs clustered about, with lots of trash on them, as though a large number of people had been clustered about Hayato and had precipitately departed. "Then you must follow the club rules. You and Gorou are going together. You are fucking each other, though that's still a secret. When I am ready for the rest of the school to know it," he added as Sota felt his eyes bulge, "you will have to show it in your public manner. I suggest," he went on, raising his chin further, "that you try to enjoy, <i>for as long as you can,</i>" he emphasized, "the affection you and he are having at this level, before I ask you to show more."<br/>
<br/>
Sota flushed, and he felt his nostrils flaring. "Were you always planning this, Hayato? Was this always part of your plan for Gorou and me?"<br/>
<br/>
Hayato laughed. "No, you must thank Momoka for that."<br/>
<br/>
"Because of the way she tried fucking things up for us? With that rumor about me and Kosei? She's the one who fucked things up! Not me! Why punish me and—?" Sota swallowed Yuuna's name, as Akiko would have.<br/>
<br/>
"I punished Momoka very lightly, for she is a genius. Oh yes. I saw it early on. Such a devious little schemer. So ingenious. I get most of my ideas from her."<br/>
<br/>
Sota felt himself starting. It wasn't shock at Hayato's confession, though, but at the bald-faced lie. He had worn Momoka's skin. He knew that she almost never told Hayato her ideas. "Like what?" Sota asked.<br/>
<br/>
"Like our cursing that silly little bitch Sano Sota. God!" Hayato threw his head back and laughed. "Do you know that they still haven't found his body? It's like he killed himself so hard he vanished straight into Hell!"<br/>
<br/>
Sota felt very cold under Akiko's skin. He clenched his fists under his chair.<br/>
<br/>
"I've been meaning to ask you about that," he said in a whisper. "Why did you do it? So Momoka gave you the idea. Why did you have to do it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why not? That's the only question I ever ask myself," he went on as Sota stared at him in puzzlement. "I can do anything I want, so why should I ever stop myself? I had the idea to curse someone to death, and I couldn't think of a reason I shouldn't, so I did it." He shrugged and rolled his tongue around in his mouth. "Why not? No answer. So I did it."<br/>
<br/>
Sota fought to keep himself from lunging forward and stabbing Hayato in the throat right here, right now. "Why Sano Sota, though? Why him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," Hayato sighed. "Why all these boring questions, Akiko? He was there, we could curse him, he read those stupid fantasy books, it would fit him. It went off brilliantly, too. Anyone else would have run off crying. But he killed himself. We'll never have a success like that again."<br/>
<br/>
<i>No you won't,</i> Sota swore to himself. <i>I will see to that, you fucker!</i><br/>
<br/>
"Is this all you wanted to ask me, Akiko?" Hayato asked. He took out his cell phone. "It's all really very silly, not at all worth a club meeting. I might have to ask Momoka for an idea on how to punish you for it." He bit down on the tip of his tongue and tapped at the screen phone with his thumbs.<br/>
<br/>
"You would punish Yuuna too," Sota blurted out. Hayato looked up with a frown. "You are not only punishing me with Gorou, you are punishing her. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not punishing her," Hayato said. "Just because you have to suck off Gorou doesn't mean you dykes can't—"<br/>
<br/>
"But we're not. Yuuna is furious. She won't touch me because I have to touch Gorou to please you."<br/>
<br/>
Hayato's jaw dropped, and he gaped. His eyes bulged and grew very bright.<br/>
<br/>
Then he put his head back and howled with laughter!<br/>
<br/>
"That is brilliant! Really, I think I must give Momoka a blooming hickey to show my appreciation. This far better than I thought it would turn out. It's almost as good as the business with Sota!"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" Sota demanded. His scalp itched and crawled, as though ants and wasps were biting it.<br/>
<br/>
"She screwed it up for you dykes! You're stuck with each other, but you can't <i>do</i> anything with each other because Yuuna's pride is too great!"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you wanted us to be happy!" Sota screamed. "I thought you wanted Yuuna and me to—!"<br/>
<br/>
He ran out of the Starbucks with Hayato's laughter ringing in his ears.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To continue investigating the room: "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1510047">Disposing of Lucy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1510047/action/view/chapter_map/11221111111212222112" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
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