The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)

From Bitch to Bully

Previously: "Ambush at the Donna" 

"What did you do to him?" you squeal at Sydney as you step over the prostrate body of David Kirkham. "I didn't even see you hit him with a mask!"

"I hit him with half of one." She bends over to grab Kirkham by his ankles. "The part that, you know, copies— Are you going to help me out here?"

Together, groaning with the exertion, you and Sydney drag the deadweight of David Kirkham's body to the foot of the bed. There's no way, even working together, you could haul him onto the bed, so that's where you leave him.

But what does Sydney mean by "half a mask"? There is a mask on the bed, but when you turn it over you find it has Kelsey's name inside it. "So where's the one we made for Kirkham?"

"Inside the bag," she says, jerking her chin at the plastic bag sitting nearby. "So, are we just going to turn him into a pedisequos? Or do you want to take him for a spin first?"

You don't answer right away, but dig inside the plastic grocery bag. It contains a plastic tub—the slave-making goop—and a brush and, most importantly, another mask. But its inner surface, you find on turning it over, has no metal strip inside it. "Where's the rest of it?" you ask. "The metal bit?"

"Inside him," she says with a faint but grinding patience. "That's what I hit him with. I figured it'd be easier than if I tried punching him the face with a mask."

"Oh." Put that way, it makes sense. "So we'll have to put it together afterward?" you ask. "Copy him with the thing, then with the mask, then put them together?"

"Sure," she says. "I guess that's the plan." Something in her distracted answer makes you look up.

She is staring down at Kirkham, and you follow her gaze. His turquoise polo shirt is bunched up around his chest, exposing a flat stomach with some visible muscles, and his glasses have half-fallen from his face. She kneels to pull them off and to shift his head so that he's staring at the ceiling instead of the bottom of the bedspread.

"He's not bad looking, you know," she says. "It's too bad he's such an asshole."

You shiver. At first you think it must be a shiver of loathing and anger at the half-compliment Sydney has paid your nemesis. Then you realize there was a deeper thrill inside the shiver. In a few minutes, you think, David Kirkham is going to be under our control. A skin puppet with our hands inside him, working him.

Or, you then think, It could be me inside him, working him.

You look up at Sydney from under your eyebrows. And that's the girl we both want. If I was being him, we could both have her.

"Why'd you take Kelsey's mask off?" you ask her.

"Hmm?" She looks up from Kirkham with a distracted expression. "Oh. Well, I thought, you know, he's interested in me. I thought it would help us get the drop on him, surprise him, if he found me waiting." A gleam comes into her eye, and she cocks her head. "You're not jealous, are you, Will? Thinking I was—"

"You can do whatever you want, Sydney," you say, and feel yourself flushing. "And it was probably the smart thing to do."

"Oh, Will." She smiles at you through her sigh. "If I was into him, you think I'd have helped you do this?"

You suck on your upper lip, and take the plunge. "Well, if you're grossed out by him, would you hate it if I, uh, switched from Amanda's mask into his?"

She stares at you. Then she throws her head back and laughs for sheerest joy.

* * * * *

You start by tugging all the clothes off Kirkham: his black Skechers slip-on shoes; socks; jeans and boxer shorts; and shirt. So stripped, he reveals a lithe, strong body, though padded over with a layer of baby fat. You're struck by how almost hairless he is, save for the tangle inside of which nestles his trouser-worm. He is olive-complected all over, even around his hips and crotch, though they of course are a lot lighter than the rest of him, and he's got visible tan lines on most of his limbs.

Given that he's being copied two pieces at a time, he's unconscious for a long time, which gives you plenty of time to strip off and fold Amanda's clothes into a pile, and to lay back on the bed with Sydney bending over you. "Do you want me to put David's mask straight onto you?" she asks, "if I'm done putting it together before you wake up? Or do you want to wait and do it yourself?" You ponder the question, then ask her to wait. "I'm glad you said that," she says. "I've been missing your face. Your real face." She brushes your forehead gently with her fingertips, then grips it. You clench your eyes shut and brace against the sensation of feeling your face torn from the front of your skull.

* * * * *

You are like a puddle of limp muscle when you wake, and for a minute or two you lay exhausted with your eyes closed, letting strength and consciousness slowly return as you turn over in your mind where you are, where you're coming from, and where you're going. I'm at the Donna, you remind yourself, and I'm in the middle of changing places, from Amanda Ferguson to David Kirkham.

You feel your brow beetle a little with puzzlement. I am in the middle of the change, aren't I?

Like running your tongue over your mouth to explore a cavity, you feel for Amanda's memories. It's not hard to find your own memories from being her mask—talking with "Kelsey" and Blake; talking with Kirkham; walking into the Donna. Memories back farther than that? If you concentrate, you can remember some of the things you remembered when you were Amanda, but they feel hazy and uncertain, like you're not sure if you dreamed them or not. As for anything else ... Well, it's too exhausting. So you satisfy yourself that you're no longer Amanda by draping a heavy hand over your chest, which is flat with a patch of wispy hair between your pecs.

Rrgh, you think. I'm gonna miss having breasts.

As for Kirkham, you explore around, looking for memories, perhaps of coming to the Donna, but you don't find any. At least, not before you are interrupted by someone bouncing onto the bed nearby. You crack your eyes open to find Sydney peering into your face with a smile. "Wake up, Will," she says.

"Mmm." You smile at her, and come fully awake with a deep breath, but you don't move, except to lift your head and glance around. "Where's—? Is it just us?"

"Uh huh. I put Amanda's mask onto David and sent her away. She just left, in fact."

"She obeys your orders?" You feel your brow furrow.

"No, not really. But I don't think the pedisequos wanted to be here. She kept looking over at you, and I don't think it's cause she was scoping you out."

"Yeah, rub it in," you mutter.

"Rub what in?" Sydney frowns.

"That I'm no great prize."

"Sweetie," Sydney says. "Amanda's a snot and a cunt. And I wouldn't let her take you as a prize anyway, not when you're my big prize." She puts her mouth to yours, and gently but wetly smooches it. "That's why I wanted you to"—smooch—"give me a few minutes alone with you."

"Mmm," you grunt again, but more pleasurably. You kiss her back when she goes in for a third time, and chase her back up when she lifts her face. Deeper and more wetly, hungrily, you kiss, and you throw an arm around her to pull her down. Your cock rises until it stings.

But after a minute or two of this, Sydney breaks off and sits up. Her face is flushed.

"Okay, I gotta stop this," she pants. "You need to finish getting changed."

"How come?" You paw at her.

"Because"—she swallows thickly—"I think I told you, I want to keep my, um, virginity. At least, my own virginity, I don't think doing it inside a mask will make a difference. I think— I don't know for sure, but I think it ... has advantages ... in this business." She briefly cradles the side of your face. "And if I keep doing this with you my willpower's gonna crumble."

You can't help leering. "You mean your willpower against my Will power?" You grasp your cock.

Oooh! Almost a mistake! A spasm runs through you, and almost—you can feel the hair trigger vibrating—almost your cock goes off, splatting something onto the ceiling.

But Sydney doesn't seem to notice. "Oh, ha ha," she snorts. "I'm shutting you up with David's mask now."

She bounces off the bed and you glower after her. You're such a tease, you think. And d'you think Kirkham would respect you and your—?

You're caught up short by a cold feeling in your chest. It was really easy, at times, to slip into Amanda's personality. Will it be just as easy to slip into Kirkham's? And if so, are you quite sure you won't ... um ... impose yourself on Sydney the way you're afraid the real motherfucker might have?

You have to wonder if Sydney is reading your thoughts when she comes back with a mask in her hands. "Don't go too far away, Will," she says as she sits on the edge of the bed. She pauses a moment to glint at you, then lowers the mask over your face. You flinch and shut your eyes.

* * * * *

You're naked, and you're erect. She's asleep, on the bed next to you. You run a light fingertip up the inside of her thigh.

Fucking Kelsey. It would be quite a way to wake her up, by cumming inside her. And you have to wonder if that's how come Sydney put Kelsey's mask back on after putting Kirkham's onto you.

You'd love to accept the implied invitation.

Next: "Making the Bully Your Bitch" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 4)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)"