Jonathan remains on autopilot during early morning practice, leaving you as Monique to wander around the school. You soon end up at a table in the library, idly scrolling through your host’s contacts. As expected, many of them are underclassmen, people she’d known since middle school and the freshmen friends she’s made this year. However, you’re surprised to find that she’s also got the number of a few seniors as well, connections made through Jonathan.
You quickly shoot a text to one of those seniors, and then cough up a wad of goo that you slip into your skirt pocket. You receive an answer soon enough, and dig out Monique’s Algebra homework and textbook out of her backpack and start perusing it. Math is not Monique’s strong suit (except for geometry, as she took to proofs like a fish to water), but it’s freshman level math so you were easily able to guide her to the right answers on questions she would have gotten wrong. Still, it’s the excuse you gave, so you may as well act the part.
“Hi Monique,” a voice, familiar to your host but not to you, chirps. You look up from the book with bright eyes and smile widely at your target.
“Omigod finally!” you gasp, and strike the table with hurried, repeated pats.
“Oh, jeez, you must really need my help,” she says, and pulls up a chair next to you. “If the homework was that bad you could have, like, messaged me, you know?”
“I had a really good feeling about it when I went to sleep, but now I’m not sure I got any of it right,” you whine pitifully. “Could you look over my work, please?” While she takes the paper in her hand studies your work, you get the chance to study her face from behind Monique’s innocent eyes for yourself. Like Jonathan, she’s originally from California (San Diego, specifically, though she’s told Jonathan she lived in Los Angeles most of elementary school) and it shows, as she could probably be confused for his cousin. Her hair is so flaxen that it’s almost platinum, and her skin seems to have a healthy glow about it that Monique has never seen go away. Her smile always seems blindingly bright and her eyes are a bright blue.
She’s gorgeous. How haven’t you noticed her before? Probably because, though she has a friendly and approachable manner, David never ran in the same circles that she did. Not that it matters now.
As she launches into an explanation of where you’ve gone wrong in the problems, you dig out a wad of blue gum and offer it to her as thanks. She accepts it, and though she’s curious about the odd translucent blue coloration and how squishy it is she pops it into her mouth without question. After all, Monique would never do anything bad to her. The worm slithers beneath her tongue before she can chew on it and dissolves into her.
And then Courtney Hamilton is yours.
“So, I guess you don’t really need my help?” you ask Monique in your new voice. As Monique, you shake your head. “Okay, then. I think I’m gonna take a quick nap before school starts. You’ll know when to wake me up.” You force her mind into a state of rest, and lay her head on the table. It will be a while before you can fully make her your own, so you excise her most recent memories and start on ransacking her unconscious mind. You had discovered that trying to swallow an unconscious mind was easier than a waking one, but you still don’t get too far before you have to wake her up a few minutes before first period and send her on her way.
You let most of the morning pass you by uneventfully; Monique is the only student host you maintain full control of, so you focus on playing around with Dominique’s body while you sit in class, only barely paying attention.
It’s when lunch rolls around that you surface in them both. You gather all your student bodies at the back of the school, behind the football field.
+++++
“I’m starting to think you have a type,” you tell yourself, taking another bite of your salad. You glance at your other hosts: blond-haired and blue-eyed, every one of them.
“Well they do say we have more fun,” Monique says, glancing over at the prone body of another blonde girl next to them. Her jaw hangs open lifelessly. Taking her over had been easy; she is friends with Courtney, and took to the idea of eating lunch with Jonathan and Monique easily—not like it was something they hadn’t done before, after all. With perfect coordination the former held her in place with a headlock while Monique slaps a worm over her face. “What do you think, Flora? Are you having fun?”
“Let her rest, baby,” you tell her after you’ve stopped nuzzling her neck—she’s seated nicely on your lap, and your arms are wrapped around her waist. “She’s getting to know herself. Anyway, It’s just a coincidence, Court. I don’t have a thing for blondes, it just so happened that you guys were the most convenient.”
“In that case, who are we getting next?”
“My sister, obviously,” Flora Ioescomb says, though she’s technically unconscious. As if you were going to take one twin without the other.
“But who after that, then?” Monique asks.
“Well I can still get my teammates, if we need some more guys,” Jonathan suggests.
“Not all of them,” Courtney demands. “I don’t want to share a mind with jerks like Ben and Tony. And besides, I wouldn’t mind a couple more girls. Jenny Taylor or Chris Yves or Alyx English or Rhianna Miller would be great team players. What about Kristy?”
“Carlson? We’ve already got Jonathan. Do we really need another rich girl?”
“That better be rhetorical,” Flora speaks up again, this time sitting up and shaking her head as you blink her eyes open for her. She readjusts her hoodie so that it hangs loosely off her head. “There’s never enough money. Hell, let’s get Yukio Cargill and the Ansell twins while we’re at it. Take one rich kid, take them all. More money to go around for the rest of us. Plus, we’ll have an awesome crew if we ever go to Legends.”
“You know, Flora, if you want a new drum kit so badly I can just buy it for you.”
“That’s sweet of you, Jon, but let’s do the shopping later.”
As Monique, you moan. You’ve snaked Jonathan’s hand up her shirt and are fondling her breasts. “Don’t, people might see.”
“Sorry, Songbird,” you say, though you don’t stop playing with her boobs. “I just can’t wait until after school to get my hands on you.”
“I know what you mean,” you reply softly, squirming pleasurably. “We’re gonna have so much fun at your place.” Then you turn around, snatch a few hard kisses from each other, and separate. Lunch is almost over, so you spend the rest of it finishing their food while sanding down memories until nothing suspicious remains.
The interruption by Monique was fully intentional; the truth is, you’re a bit unsure as to how to proceed. You can be anyone you want and more, but you don’t want to make rash choices. Sure, you can be as invisible as you want, but there’s no reason to mess with too many lives…
Right?
In any case, you feel better trying to go with the three options you’ve invented for yourself, arbitrary as they are…   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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