The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

Restroom Raids

Previously: "A Dead End" 

"We might as well make another one," you tell Caleb. "We've got the dirt out there anyway, and Keith's gonna want one for himself."

"Makes sense," Caleb says. "But we should move it to the basement."

"Why? It's all set up at that barn."

"Yeah, but if those guys come back to check on something—"

Caleb breaks off. Then, with a sigh, he says, "You're right, fuck it, I don't want to move it either. But let's get it going."

"Okay, I'll meet you out there tomorrow night."

But Caleb has another idea when he sees you the next day.

* * * * *

"I'm going out to the barn after school," he mutters at you in first period, leaning across the aisle so no one else will hear his words. "To get the thing started."

"I thought we were going to do that tonight."

"I want to get it going. Okay, I'm being stupid," he confesses. "It's not like a couple of hours is going to make a difference, but I just want to get it started and done. Before anyone goes out there and finds it."

"You want me to go with you?"

"No, I'll get Teresa to go. You and Keith were going to do something with the, um—" He waves his hand in front of his face. "Right?"

"That was the plan. I thought you were going to help."

"Yeah, but— Look, you and Keith just go ahead, I'll get mine tomorrow or Wednesday. How many of the, um, things did you bring in to school?"

Masks? you mouth at him. He nods. "Just one. I'm not gonna try to get lucky twice today."

He starts to reply, then catches himself, and grins.

"When did you ever get lucky with a girl, Will?" he asks.

You sneer at him, and flip him off.

* * * * *

Because—fuck Caleb—you definitely got lucky with Mickey. You congratulate yourself all over again after checking your hair and face on your phone camera.

You made the change in your truck after school, there being no safer place on campus to put on a mask that will turn you into a sexy but naked girl. A restroom? You can't walk into a girl's restroom as yourself, or out of a boy's restroom as Mickey. A classroom? There'd be a teacher inside! Inside one of the ratty old portables in back of the school? Yikes! Think of the rats! Both the four-legged vermin and the two-legged vermin that hang out there!

So you crawled into your truck after classes let out, kicked off your shoes, and hunched down in the passenger-side footwell with Mickey's mask. You were stiff, groggy, and cramped something awful when you woke, and your clothes—which you hadn't bothered to remove, because you'd shrink inside them anyway—felt awkward and itchy. Quickly you changed into the ensemble that you'd bought for Mickey, and which you are now heartily sick of: gray cotton shorts, a black-and-white striped sleeveless blouse, and ratty pink-dyed sneakers.

Not that you don't feel sexy in them. You feel very sexy as you dismount from your truck and shake out your bare, slim, sexy limbs, and feel your hair resting atop your shoulders. Even your backpack, bouncing between your shoulder blades, makes you feel sexy, and you are very conscious of the swing in your hips.

A girl who looks like Lin Pol's very homely cousin is waiting for you by Keith's car. Her expression is tight as you come swinging up to her.

"Don't you look perky," she says as she falls into step beside you.

"Don't be a bitch," you retort, for you feel Mickey's personality spreading into you. "Some of us are just born lucky."

"You got all her memories?" Keith retorts.

"Yes, I— Oh God!" You stop in mid-step, and feel your eyes bulging with horror.

Vividly, like an out-of-body experience, it has presented itself to you, just as you feared it would: the feel of Keith Tilley's chapped lips mashing against your; his tongue wriggling inside your mouth; and his cock, wedged and pumping up inside your—

"Yes?" the girl next to you asks with a snigger.

You punch her in the arm as hard as you can. She laughs.

"Fuck you, man!" you snarl. "I knew I was gonna—! And you still—! Fuck you!" You resume your march toward the school at a quickstep.

Keith hurries up to join you.

"She liked it, too," she sneers. "I mean, you liked it, Mickey. You liked it every time we—"

"She was faking it every time," you retort

Then you again stop cold in your tracks. Hateful as it is to think back to the times that a naked, bony Keith rammed himself up inside your privates while befouling your face with his sloppy kisses, you dwell on them as you test—like a tongue probing the cavity of a sensitive tooth—the feelings that "Mickey" was having. And there aren't any.

None.

Oh, you have some impression of her moaning and telling Keith how good he is making her feel. But there's nothing, not even disgust there. Not even any thoughts like, Pretend you're having fun. Just a blankness.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure even a fake couldn't fake those screams you were—" Keith is saying before she catches herself. "What?"

"She was faking it," you declare again, flatly.

Keith snorts. "Was she faking it with Johansson?"

You do a full-body wince, for now you've got Caleb's face in your mind's eye, and his cock in your mind's pussy. You wail aloud.

"You're welcome," Keith says, and with a sneer resumes her walk for the school.

* * * * *

You haven't forgiven Keith for the mental imagery, but you have to put it aside, for you've got a job to do. Each of you brought a mask—with memory strip attached—to school, and your mission each is to copy the face and body of a sexy-ish girl.

Split up or stay together? Keith asks as you enter the school. Stay together, you decide, so together you duck into the nearest restroom. It is empty, and the two of you waste some awkward minutes touching yourselves up in the mirrors. You have to redouble your efforts at looking busy when a cluster of girls comes boiling into the restroom. None of them are particularly attractive, but you couldn't get at any of them anyway, not with there being a crowd of them. Then they all leave together. The same thing happens again five minutes later.

After that, you decide it would be better to split up—there are half a dozen restrooms you could be covering—and you leave for the next restroom over. One of the female teachers comes in, and after that a pair of chattering girls who look like sophomores. These are fairly attractive, and if Keith was along you might take the chance of bagging both of them. Instead, you retreat into a stall, hoping that one of them will leave while the other remains. But when you peek out again, they are both gone.

Any luck? Keith texts a quarter-hour later, and admits he hasn't had any either when you tell him you haven't. Desperate, you change locations to a different restroom, and would scream aloud when you see a lone girl in tight jeans and a tight t-shirt exiting the one you are heading toward. Your frustration doubles when you go into the restroom and find it empty. Missed my chance by ten seconds! you fume to yourself.

When five o'clock comes, you are forced to give up, and you meet Keith just outside the gym. A couple of Hispanic guys come swaggering by as you and he are commiserating about your lack of luck, and to your dismay they stop to chat. "Hey, you girls waitin' for a ride?" one of them asks with cocky leer. Though addressing you both, he is staring at you. "I got your ride right here," he says as he grabs his junk.

"Oh, gross," you sigh with a roll of your eyes.

"Hey, you don't gotta look at it," he says. "You just gotta feel it!" He leans in closer.

"I'm waiting for my boyfriend!" you improvise.

He grins. "You don't gotta wait when I'm right here!"

Just then, one of the basketball players coming sauntering by. On instinct—Mickey's instinct—you grab him before he can pass, and cling close to him.

"There you are!" you exclaim as you hug him tightly. "I thought you were never going to come out! I've been waiting here for—!"

You look up into the face of Steve Patterson, and swallow hard. Patterson is one of the alpha-est of the alpha jocks, and someone with a reputation for heaving guys like you into dumpsters.

Fortunately, your presence of mind hasn't deserted you

"Don't be mad this guy was flirting with me," you gabble at Steve while glancing over at the guy who accosted you. "He didn't know that you, um—"

Patterson tears his gaze from you long enough to look at the other guy, who takes a step back. For a moment, no one moves.

Then Patterson puts an arm around your shoulders and guides you into the parking lot. You sense rather than see Keith trotting alongside.

Patterson leads you over to a car, and he says nothing until he's reached it, when he asks, "Those guys following us?"

Keith answers. "No. They went back inside."

"Okay." Patterson drops his arm.

"Sorry?" You look up into his face—he is more than six-and-a-half feet tall—with your most ingratiating grin.

Steve's eyes are the color of an iceberg, and just chilly. "Don't mention it," he says.

Then his eyes crinkle just the tiniest bit. "Same time tomorrow?" he asks.

You feel your eyes widen.

Then he snorts and gets into his car.

"Jesus, let's get out of here!" you gasp at Keith, and grab her hand to dash for your truck.

* * * * *

You are still rattled even after you are changed back into your own face and clothes, and you gladly follow Keith back to his place when he invites you to eat with him.

But you get a text from Caleb before you arrive: You need to come out to the barn. Now.

Next: "A Surprise from Teresa" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 5)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)"