This choice: Make that move to Eastman • Go Back...Chapter #14A Plan and a Party by: Seuzz   Screw it. It's too late, and explaining your changed ideas would just piss everyone off. Just before classes resume you text Chelsea that you're ready on your end. She replies by setting five-thirty in the fuck room as the rendezvous point and time. During sixth period you tell Keith that you'll give him and Caleb a call later that evening.
"Glad we're still on," he says, then draws you over into a corner of the classroom. "Listen, we can copy more people than just Chelsea, right?" he asks in a low voice.
"Why do you ask," you say, startled.
"Well, Caleb says we could. And why stop with Chelsea? Get one for each of us. I wouldn't mind having Cindy. Or her boyfriend, so I could ... You know." He grinds a fist into the palm of his hand.
"I guess it's something to talk about later." Privately, it just makes you more determined to make a move.
* * * * *
"Just in time," Chelsea says with a smile when you enter the loft. "I found out about a big party someone from Eastman is throwing tonight. There'll be lots of people there."
"Don't tell me who," you say, throwing up your hands. "I'll start thinking about what we're doing, and--"
"So, you're leaving it all to me," she says with a slightly waspish tone. "Okay then. Can you at least explain to me how is this supposed to work?"
"Well, first, we have to prepare masks of ourselves. I can go first, or--" Her mouth tightens into a small smile, and she lays back and puts one of the blanks over her face. You swallow and stare, for this is the first time you've actually seen it done: the mask glows briefly, and then seems to sink down into her. Her eyes open but go blank, and her breathing becomes very shallow. Still, it's enough to make you excited, as her prodigious breasts rise and fall slowly and rhythmically--
And then golem-Gordon steps in and shoves you back. Your bowels briefly loosen, but he doesn't follow up, and just stands between you and her with his arms folded.
After what seems an eternity, you hear a muffled gasp, and look around Gordon to see Chelsea sitting up. The mask has fallen into her lap. "Wow," she says, picks it up. Her eyes widen. "So that's ... me ... in there."
"Yeah. Now we seal it."
"I know," she says. "Remember, I got those other masks made."
Oh yeah. It occurs to you that maybe you've been underestimating her for a long time. "While you do that, I'll just get my own mask made up." You draw out the mask that Caleb made of you, keeping it hidden so she won't see the telltale image, and set it on your face.
* * * * *
The world is black and you feel cold and wrung-out when you wake. There's no air--
You push the mask off, and sit up with a groan. "Here, I'll take care of that," you hear Chelsea say.
With a spasm, you knock her hand away. "Sorry," you apologize as she frowns at you. "I'll take care of it," you say. "Can you get the stuff together for the next step? You know, that golem stuff."
"I was going to leave that to you," she grumbles, "but okay."
"I'll watch while you do it," you offer. You just don't want her to see that your mask is already sealed, for that would lead to awkward questions ...
As you pretend to dab at the interior of the mask with the sealant, you keep an eye on her preparations. A few minutes later, using her hair for her mask and your hair for your own, you put shells inside them. "There," you say. "Now, anyone who puts on these masks will be forced to take over our lives."
"Lucky them," Chelsea says, and you can't tell if she's being satirical or not. "How are we going to use these things at the party?"
You've been thinking about that too, and though it's a risk: "The easiest way is for me to go as Gordon."
"You can't go as Gordon," she points out. "I mean if you put that mask on, like last time--"
"I know. You'll let me out, won't you?" Her eyebrows arch in amusement. "You will, won't you?"
"Probably," she laughs. "But why go as Gordon?"
"It's just easiest. See, we put my mask onto him, and he can just leave here being me. Then it's just you and me--me disguised as Gordon--at the party. The two of us--you'd have to lead--get someone alone at the party. Put a blank mask on them. After that, you take Gordon's mask off me and put it on that person. Then I put their mask on." Understanding dawns in her eyes. "See, fewer moving parts. After that, we get you someone. I mean, if you still want to ..." You blush. "If you still want to come with me."
"Well, let's see who's there," she says. She turns to the golem. "Gordon, let Will take your face off."
* * * * *
Your main motive in using Gordon's mask is that that way your own replacement will have no idea who you have replaced at Eastman, in case Caleb and Keith somehow get wise to what's going on. But you feel the need to make sure of your replacement. "Hang on, I've got one last message for the new me," you tell Chelsea, and dash out of the loft to catch up to your duplicate. Gordon's too-large shorts are dangling off your hips as you run.
"You, wait," you call awkwardly to your replacement. He turns, and it's almost as startling confronting him on the gym floor as it had been up in the loft. He's very quiet. "You know what you're going to tell Caleb and Keith?"
He thinks a moment. "Yeah, I guess. That I've changed my mind and that no one is going to be replacing Chelsea. What Keith said about Cindy. It pissed me off."
"Good. And don't say anything about Eastman." He nods impatiently. "Where are you going to put Caleb's mask, so I can retrieve it?"
"In the old elementary school basement. I'll give the key to Gordon, and he'll pass it on to you."
"Right. And what about you and the, uh, fake Chelsea?"
His dark eyes glitter. "You think anything can happen between us with Gordon around?"
"I don't mean that. I mean ... You think you can talk her into being nicer to people?"
He smiles satirically. "If her duplicate is as perfect as I am of you?" He shakes his head.
Well, it's a try. Back up in the loft, you put on Gordon's shirt, then lay back and carefully lower his mask onto your face ...
* * * * *
You blink your eyes open and sit up on your elbows, looking around. There's hardly room to move: you're sprawled on a tile floor, and Chelsea is perched on a bathroom vanity. Gordon Black is standing in a bathtub and pulling off some too-small jeans.
"Whoa," you groan. "Is everything ... alright?"
"All according to plan," Chelsea says. She hands you a mask. "And here's your new life."
You take it with trembling hand, regard it briefly, then lay back and put it on.
The new mind laps up around yours, like a gentle but inexorably rising tide. Childhood, family, friends, the day at school, the party, Chelsea taking you by the arm and leading you into the back for a confidential talk, followed by that hulking boyfriend of hers ...
You open your eyes and groan pleasurably, even though it's cold. Maybe the second time putting on a mask is always less disorienting than the first time; certainly you've had an easier time letting the mind of Alyssa Randal overtake and then settle into yours than you had with Kelsey Blankenship. "People say you're a real bitch, Chelsea," you laugh. "And I guess they're right. But you had help this time, didn't you?"
"Oh, that's really a nice thing to say," Chelsea retorts. "I spent an hour stalking this girl to get her for you." She puts out a hand and helps you to your feet.
Kelsey had such small breasts that you'd not much noticed them in your time as her, but Alyssa is much more amply endowed, and you shift uncertainly a moment on your feet before instinct takes over. "I hope it didn't bust an clothes when you put that mask on the real Alyssa," you say, looking over at Gordon, who is now pulling on his own clothes.
"I got them loosened up first," Chelsea says. "Give me some credit. Gordon, when you're done, take it outside." He grunts.
You pick up your various new clothes, which are a bit of a mess, and admire your dark skin as you do so. An African-American girl. More than that-- "Is Alyssa for me, or were you thinking of yourself?" you ask. Alyssa's self-confidence makes it much easier for you to talk boldly to Chelsea. "I mean, head cheerleader and all."
"You said you wanted a different life. This is about as different as you can get," Chelsea says, and her eye dances with satire. "Besides, this is one way of getting you to see what it's like for me."
"Very smart." You pull on panties and then start to struggle into the bra. "You have someone picked out for yourself?" Your mind flashes back to the party. "Lots of possibilities."
"You trusted me," she says. "Maybe I should trust you."
Yes, there are lots of possibilities, and not all of them are at the party. Alyssa sits in the middle of the upper-echelon social web at Eastman, but has threads running throughout the school. In fact, although this party is a natural place to score Chelsea a new identity, it would be easy--and maybe better in the long run--if you waited a bit and thought through more possibilities first.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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