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Mother's Ruin by Circe The mid-afternoon sun was high in the clear sky, casting short shadows over the concrete and metal in the playground. However, there were no children here among the graffiti-tattooed seesaws, chutes and roundabouts. Broken glass bottles and needles lay scattered on the safety mat floor. The playground was in the middle of the apartment complex - three towering grey granite blocks of identical homes offering cheap living in a vertical community. There was surprisingly little noise, except for the sound of one radio, which amplified and echoed around the concrete canyon so as to make the music almost unrecognizable. If you concentrated and looked up, you could see its source - a window, ten stories up, open. The curtains - a vivid purple and cream - fluttered gently in the slight breeze. Inside the room, a pink haired girl was on a mission. Her bedroom walls were covered in posters and cut-outs from magazines, her floor and bed covered in clothes - huge soft piles of them wobbled as she worked, threatening to topple over and be lost in the clutter. She stood on a cheap red swivel office chair on her tiptoes, and reached for the last box at the back of the top shelf of her wardrobe. With a slight grunt she drew a box towards her and carefully negotiated her way off the chair, dropping the box onto the floor with a heavy thud. She took a deep breath and sat down on the chair, wheeling it closer to the plain brown cardboard container. It had better be here, she thought. A gentle gurgle came from the bed, where a space had been cleared to accommodate a changing mat and a small baby, dressed in a pink sleep suit and white hat. Alison reached into the box and immediately smiled - her old school uniform was on top: this was the right box. She carefully took out the uniforms - three in all, with matching skirts and blouses - and laid them on the bed. Underneath were textbooks and jotters, a testament to a school career she never finished, and that her mother no longer wanted in the house. Close to the bottom, the first thing she had packed, she found it - handmade and ring bound. Alison flicked through the yearbook, her eyes pouring over the photographs. Young, hopeful boys and girls grinned back at her, page after page. She was about to give up, about to ignore the nagging sensation in her head, when she stopped - she had found him: the boy who had vanished. * * * * * Andy sat alone at his makeup table in a small pool of light. It was late, the clock long having struck midnight. The house was quiet, and he worked carefully - every sound he felt was amplified a thousand times. The mirror in front of him was covered in parts of photographs - blown up and printed out pieces of a face in macro resolution. He stared intently at a picture of a nose as he reached down to the table and carefully picked up a small ball of theatrical putty. With great precision he pushed the lump into place, smoothing it out with his fingers until it was just right. He regarded his face in the mirror, checking it against several headshot photos that were taped to the bottom of the mirror. His skin appeared multicolored, with different lumps and thicknesses of the clay all over his face. It wasn't bad, he decided. Close enough anyway. His next step was to rebuild it in wax and latex, and then finally silicon, like the empty hollow face that looked up at him from the dresser. He hoped it would be good enough. It had to be. He started to yawn, threatening to dislodge all his good work. It was time to go to bed, he decided. Carefully, he removed each lump and laid it on a tray, each place corresponding to where on his face it had come from. The last of them off, he took the pictures from the mirror and put them back in the white box that sat on his bed. The tray, with the theatrical putty, went on top and the box was safely hidden under the bed. Sitting back down at the table, he wiped his face with wet wipes and toweled it dry, before applying a thick layer of moisturizer. He fought back another yawn. His eyelids were heavy, and he carefully laid his arms and head down on the table, just for a moment. He awoke with a start: the creak of a floorboard in the hallway, and a sliver of light shining under his door alerting him to movement. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It was three a.m. Drawing his silk kimono around him, he blinked a few times and went to the door, opening it as quietly as he could. The hall light was on, and Zoe's bedroom door was open. Andy could hear the tap running in the bathroom she and Emma shared. Outside the bathroom, a pair of black glossy heels lay abandoned. Was Zoe just getting in? he wondered. Moments later Zoe opened the bathroom door, dressed to kill in a little black dress that clung to her hourglass figure. She definitely hadn't been wearing that when she left for work that morning. Zoe quietly closed the bathroom door and turned to creep up the hallway when she spotted her housemate and jumped with surprise. "What are you doing up? You scared me to death!" Zoe stage whispered. "What are you doing just getting in?" Andy countered in Mandy's voice, his hands planted on non-existent hips. "I," Zoe began, before beckoning with her finger and creeping up the hallway, past Emma's pink bedroom door. Andy rolled his eyes and followed her into her bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him. "I had a date," Zoe began, her face apologetic. "With a person." "A date? Tell me more!" "First, help," she said, spinning around and wobbling slightly as she came to a stop. She gathered her hair in one hand and moved it out the way of her neck. Andy found the small zip and tugged it down the back of her dress in one easy motion, coming to rest in the small of her back. "That's my dress," he said, his eyes narrowing. "When did you take it?" "I didn't think you'd mind," she said, slipping the thick straps down her arms. "I only mind because you look way better in it than I do." "You're so sweet," she slurred, turning around ready to give him a kiss. She paused, and looked him up and down. "Who are you right now? I only ask because I don't want any strange men in my room." "I fell asleep," he explained. "Anyway, date." "We met for cocktails," she sighed happily, wriggling the bottom of the dress down her hips before letting it fall to the floor. "I haven't had a Manhattan for ages. It was lovely." She stood in her underwear, lost in the moment. "Cocktails until three?" Andy prompted. "No, no, no, silly. We went dancing." Zoe fell backwards onto her bed, narrowly avoiding crashing onto the floor. She lay still for a moment, one leg hanging over the side of the bed. Andy waited for more, but realized that she had fallen asleep. * * * * * Mandy sat at her desk, pretending to work. The office was quiet, and her boss was out for the day on visits, leaving her nothing to occupy her time. Any typing she had been left to do she had finished long ago, leaving her just the phone to answer, and the web to surf. The glamorous designer dress on her screen was a world away from the dull black business suit she currently wore. Zoe had left with a quick goodbye that morning, pausing on her way out only to give her and Emma a half-hearted wave. Mandy chuckled to herself, and looked forward to embarrassing Zoe about last night at some future date. The phone rang, and Mandy minimized her browser window and lifted the receiver. "Hello, Social Services - Dorothy Parkinson's office." "Hello Amanda." It was John. Underneath the mask, the color drained from Andy's face. Nervously, Mandy looked around. She considered hanging up the phone. She closed her eyes. "I know you're there. I was just phoning to say how much I've missed you." Mandy took a deep breath, and opened her eyes. "John, it's lovely to hear from you," she lied, forcing a smile. "What can I do for you?" "I was just wondering how you were getting on fulfilling my request." "Please," she said, her voice a whisper. "Not here." "Okay," he said brightly. "Lunch. My treat. I won't take no for an answer." No, thought Mandy. No you wont. "Lovely. Where are you taking me?" "Rhubarb? I'll get us a nice quiet table so we can catch up. One all right?" "Great." "See you then." She continued to hold the phone to her ear long after it went dead, her lips locked in a rigor mortis smile. She'd been avoiding him for two weeks, ever since the hotel. She had hoped he'd been drunk, or had been kidding, but no - it was clear he was absolutely serious. Every time her mobile rang, fear shot through her like an icicle. She was terrified of what he knew and of what he might do. He would spoil everything. Two weeks ago she would have been thrilled to have met him for a lunch date, especially at a restaurant as trendy as Rhubarb. She thought back to their last meal together - the thrill of his illicit touches, and the excitement of being desired. And then it had all gone horribly wrong. She looked at the clock on her computer screen. She didn't have time to run home and change. She reached under the desk and slipped on her black high heels onto her warm stocking feet, before grabbing her purse and locking her computer. "I have some errands to run, do you mind answering my phone?" she asked Carole the receptionist on the way out. "No worries," Carole answered, glancing up from her magazine. * * * * * Emma and Jack sat next to each other, their short legs swinging freely on the oversized chairs. They both stared at the floor, studying it intently and ignoring each other. The door next to them opened suddenly, filling the hall with the boisterous sound of children playing. Their teacher, Miss Galbraith, closed the door behind her and crouched down in front of the two children. "So, who wants to go first?" The two children continued to stare at the floor. "Emma?" the teacher asked. "Why did you hit Jack?" "I didn't," the little girl muttered. "Did too," the small boy spat. "Didn't mean to," she huffed. "You shouldn't tell lies." "What lie did he tell sweetheart?" "He said mummy and Jack's dad were going to get married.' "They might," the little boy said. "They were on a date and dad was really happy and said that Emma's mum was really special." Emma punched the boy on the arm. "They wont!" she shouted. "It's just us girls. There's no boys aloud." "All right, all right calm down, okay. Emma, apologize to Jack." "Sorry," she muttered. "Now, you two are friends. You shouldn't hit people Emma. Off you go, the pair of you." The two children slid off their chairs and sulked back into the classroom while their teacher stood up. She couldn't say she was surprised that Mandy and John were dating - they'd been flirting with each other for years it seemed. She smiled to herself: they were a good match. Still, they had to be careful for the children. She resolved to have a chat with their parents when she saw them next. * * * * * The restaurant was light and busy?filled with diners in expensive suits and dresses. Young and beautiful waiters and waitresses flitted between linen-covered tables carrying expensive wine bottles, and menus surrounded by shabby chic antique picture frames. Soft piano music filled in gaps of empty conversation, and Mandy noticed as she was led to her table that it was coming from a live pianist, who sat quietly in the corner expertly performing Jazz standards. "There you are," John said, standing as Mandy arrived. "I was worried you weren't going to come. You look ravishing." Mandy's heart sunk as she realized she would be sitting next to, and not opposite John. The thought of being that close to him worried her intensely. Still, she reminded herself, it was a public place. She leaned in to give him a chaste peck on the cheek as she rounded the table, running her hands over her rear as her chair was pushed in for her - flattening her dress against the back of her thighs. "Nice dress," John said. "You wear that to work?" Mandy had rushed from work into a taxi to her favorite boutique, praying all the while that the dress she wanted would be in stock, and in her size: There was no way she was going to let John embarrass her. She had burst into the shop and searched quickly, finding a rail of them at the back, and nervously flicked through them checking for her size. Relief. The changing room was communal, she knew, but empty as she walked in, the dress over her arm. She had quickly taken off her suit jacket, blouse and skirt before unzipping the small zip on the side of the purple dress, and stepping into it, slipping her arms into the straps and zipping the dress up her figure. The scooped, embroidered neckline sat high on her chest, and the large print floral pattern swooped and danced over her curves, swirling to rest on the hem high above her knee. It fit perfectly. Satisfied, she reached inside the dress and pulled out the tag, snapping the thread that held it in place. She hitched up the bottom of the dress and pulled her opaque pantyhose down her hips, sitting on one of the upholstered chairs to slide them down the rest of the way, leaving her legs bare against the slinky lining. She discarded the hose onto the same pile as her suit. She had emerged from the changing room fifteen minutes later, her face newly made-up with daring red lipstick and deadly mascara. The cashier had beamed at her as she paid for it - as excited by the incident as Mandy. Except Mandy wasn't excited: she was scared. "This old thing?" Mandy replied, crossing her long bare legs under the table and noticing John's gaze drinking in the moment. She had to remember she had some power here too. "Up here darling," she purred. "Of course," he said, looking her dead in the eye. "What a terrible way to treat a..." He paused to take a sip of water. "Lady," he finished. "Now, now," Mandy replied, forcing her face to light up with a huge smile showing even sparking teeth. "I can be a lady, or a mother, or a whore, or a wife. But, you have to be nice to me." She kept her hands on her lap as she spoke, willing them to not shake. She looked as two waitresses arrived, carrying large round plates. They were placed in front of the couple simultaneously, and Mandy momentarily marveled at them - they were inlaid with a spiral pattern that swept in from the outside rim to a small depression in the center - no larger than CD. In the center of this depression, a small egg sat on top of a single salad leaf, drizzled with an oily sauce. "I took the liberty of ordering," John said, picking up his cutlery. "Anyway, I was really just wondering how you were getting on. Anything I can do to help matters? I'm sure it must be quite an endeavor." Mandy cut into the quail egg and slowly put it in her mouth, considering her response while she ate. "I need money," she said eventually. "What for?" "Tits, ass, makeup, clothes, perfume, jewelry, wigs, nails, lashes, panties, bras, shoes and accessories." John stared at her for a moment. "How much?" "I'm not sure yet," she said, finishing off her egg. "Five thousand to start with and we can take it from there." He laughed, setting down his knife and fork on the oversized plate rim. "And what do I get for five thousand pounds?" Mandy uncrossed her legs and shifted in her seat to lean into John's ear, her breasts brushing against his arm. "A night with your wife," she whispered. She flicked her gaze downwards, her fake eyelashes fluttering against the side of his chin, and noticed that his trousers had an unmistakable bulge. "I'm not sure you're in a position to make demands, Amanda. I know things," he said calmly. She felt herself tense and instantly failed to make herself relax. That he knew she wasn't Mandy Scott was obvious, he had said as much. Similarly, he had not seen the constrained appendage between her legs, but very much knew it was there. These two facts alone would be enough to ruin everything if he told her employer. She couldn't lose Emma, not for anything. But, that was just the tip of the iceberg - there was so much more to know. The scared teenager felt as though he stood at the edge of the abyss. "But, let's say I did give you this money. How long would it be before you... before you were ready?" "I've already started, you'll be pleased to hear," she said, pulling away from him. "Not long. A few weeks maybe." He nodded, reaching into his suit jacket pocket and withdrawing a cheque book. He quickly filled in the slip and handed her the torn off piece of paper. "I have clothes," he said. "Of hers, if you want." "That would be useful." "Why don't you come over? Take what you need." The thought of spending a second in his company made her feel unclean. However, she had to find out how much he knew. And the lure of another woman's clothes - free for her to take - was too much. "Okay," she said guardedly while a waitress came and efficiently cleared their plates. "If I do this, and you are happy with the results, what happens?" Mandy asked. "Then your secrets are safe with me," he said, smiling. Somehow, she doubted that. Before she could reply, she heard the distant buzzing of her mobile phone in her purse. She reached for it, turning it over to read the caller id. It was Alison. "Do you mind?" Mandy asked, standing and walking away from the table towards a quiet corner. "Hey." Mandy took a deep breath. "Hi Alison, how are you and Molly?" "Yeah, we're good thanks. The visit went well, but, I guess, you know that already." Mandy smiled. "I'm glad. Are you coping okay?" "Yeah. Sort of. Yeah. It's hard." "Well, if you need anything I'm happy to..." "Funny you should say that," Alison interrupted. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get together for a coffee. See Molly." "I'd love to." Mandy turned and watched John while she made plans with Alison. He was staring at her, gazing at her like a predator. Like he owned her. She felt naked then, in this expensive dress. His gaze stripped her down, through her clothes, her underwear and her makeup. She didn't like it. She hadn't worked this hard for Emma, and for herself, to feel like this. She could run, but then that's what the real Mandy would have done. She was better than that. Plans made, she hung up the phone and walked slowly back to the table. Let him watch, she decided. Let's put on a show. * * * * * "John, put that down!" The lady on the television laughed easily, her eyes flashing with joy and love. The picture on screen shook as the camera holder laughed. "You're going to have to make me," came the muffled voice off camera. She looked into the camera with a mock stern expression and pulled up the sheet to cover her face. "As you wish," the voice said. The picture onscreen jiggled as the camera pulled back from the woman's face, revealing the king-size bed and its lone occupant, her figure outlined by the flimsy sheets. The camera shook for a moment, and then steadied, as it was fixed to a tripod. "That's better," she purred, wriggling under the bedclothes and peeping over the top of the covers. "Now, come here." John walked into shot, naked in the lamplight. His body was toned, not too muscular and no hint of fat. His legs and chest were almost hairless. He walked self-consciously, aware of the camera, with his chest out and his shoulders back. The lady in the bed giggled. "I can't believe we're doing this," she said, her voice girlish and excited. She took a deep breath and flung back the sheet, revealing her nakedness. Andy paused the tape and examined the woman in front of him. Her body was different from Mandy's: her limbs were smooth, slender and long, her stomach taut, her hips bony and boyish. Even though she was on her back, Andy could see her breasts were smaller than Mandy's now, although not as small as before. Her nipples were much darker too. He needed to visit John, and look through her clothes, he decided. Andy resumed the video, and watched as John climbed into bed next to his wife, kissing her passionately as he held her. He noticed she kept her eyes open as she kissed him, her fingers enjoying his chest and back. She sat up in the bed and ran her hands through her black hair, arching her back and pushing her breasts towards him. He licked her nipple playfully before nuzzling her chest and holding her back. "I can't believe we're doing this," Andy said, watching the couple on screen. His voice was shrill and false. He repeated the phrase again and again, trying different inflections and pitches. Suzy finally pushed John away, leaving him flat on his back on the bed as she straddled him and kissed him from his mouth, down his chest to his groin. With her back to the camera, she pushed her bottom up into the air as her mouth closed around John's limp cock. Andy paused again while he regarded this woman's bottom. Her hips weren't as wide as Mandy's, but her bum was much perkier and as round. Her buttocks jiggled as she moved - something Andy vowed to emulate. The woman on screen was obviously much younger than Mandy - both her and John were in their middle to late twenties on this tape. Still, it was this woman that John remembered, and this young woman Andy would become. "If you want that," Andy said, his voice girlish and light as he resumed the tape, and watched the sex tape, "you're going to have to make me." * * * * * Emma sat at her mommy's makeup table, applying blusher. She had experimented with a number of her mom's powders, lipsticks and pencils and felt she was getting the hang of it. She wanted to be as pretty as her mommy or her Aunty Zoe. The table was a mess, with bottles and trays of loose powder open, spilling and mixing their contents together. A small tube of lip-gloss was balanced precariously on the edge of the table, dripping its sparkly contents slowly onto the thick cream carpet. The girl too was not much cleaner. Her face was covered in make-up. Her white cotton top was covered in smeared foundation and blusher. Two doors down, Zoe slept soundly on her bed. * * * * * Mandy stared into the shop window, pretending to look at the mannequin on display. She had checked, and rechecked, her makeup and was now casting a new critical eye on her clothes and accessories. She was wearing her favorite green dress, with an empire line and pleated skirt. The neckline was quite daring, and showed off an impressive amount of cleavage, enhanced by her favorite push-up bra. A gold heart necklace hung from her slender neck, the pendant resting on her plumped up breasts. Her hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, and framed her face, expertly made up with a new red lipstick and vivid green eye- shadow. Long gold earrings dangled and swung freely from her small lobes. She took a deep breath and smiled to her reflection. She was nervous, and realized she was approaching this like a date. She had even brought flowers. Across the street, in a coffee shop populated exclusively by mums and babies in strollers, Alison Steadman waited patiently for her friend to arrive. Her daughter, Molly, sat next to her in a wooden highchair and smiled at passers-by. Alison sipped her frappucinno and looked up to watch the door to see Mandy breeze in, her long green dress floating in the wind. She was about to call out when Mandy caught her eye, smiled, and began the process of circumnavigating the chairs, tables and baby strollers. "Hi," Alison said, standing and giving her friend a warm hug as she approached the table. "Wow, you look great. Are you going somewhere nice?" "Hi," Mandy replied, inwardly cursing herself for dressing up. "No, just, you know, it's nice to get dressed up every so often. These are for you." She handed the young girl the flowers, and a shopping bag. Alison looked into the bag and pulled out a pretty blue and white floral top. "Oh thank you, I was worried I'd never see it again." "No thank you?I was tempted to keep it! And how are you young lady," Mandy said to Molly, who was watching her with great interest. "She's good. She's much better actually. We both are." "I'm glad to hear it. She's gotten a little bigger hasn't she? Yes, you have. Molly's beautiful, you should be really proud." "Thanks," Alison said, looking down. "Well, you should," Mandy said. "It's hard work." Mandy glanced at the counter, noticing the lack of queue. "I'm going to get a latte, do you want anything?" Alison shook her head and watched as Mandy went over to the counter to get her drink. It was so sweet of her to bring flowers, she thought, looking down at the bouquet for the first time. Roses. "These are beautiful, thanks," Alison said as Mandy returned. "You're welcome. They're from my garden. So, tell me everything that's been happening to you." The two women talked, catching up on Alison's house visit over their coffees. The care worker had been very kind, she said, and her and the midwife had talked for some time about Molly. They had agreed that they would visit again in a few months time, and they were happy that Alison was coping. They talked about Alison's ex, the father, and how he wasn't returning her calls. They talked for an hour before Alison brought up what she wanted to say. "You know I said I thought we'd met before?" Alison asked casually. "Oh yes," "Have you got a son too? Only reason I ask is I think I went to school with him." Mandy held her breath as Alison reached under the table into her bag, and pulled out her yearbook. A page was marked with a post-it note. Alison opened the book and laid it on the table, turning it round to face her. Andrew Scott's face stared out from the pages. "You have the same surname. And you have the same eyes." Mandy leant closer to the table to get a better look at the picture. She hadn't seen this book for years. "Yes, that's my Andy," she said, forcing a sad smile. "You went to school with him? I must have met your parents at some point then." "I'm sorry, I didn't really know him. We had a couple of classes together though. He was smart?I remember that. What happened to him?" "Oh, he went to live with his dad," Mandy replied, giving the well- rehearsed answer. "I wasn't the best mother." "I find that hard to believe." "Thanks, but this was before. We fought all the time, and I was terrible to him. I think it's best he went away. I think he's happier." "Don't you miss him?" Alison asked, laying her hand on top of Mandy's. "Oh, of course," Mandy lied. "We talk quite often, on the phone. I must ask him about you. I'm sure he'd remember you." "What's his number? I'd really like to give him a call. You know, to catch up." "I thought you didn't really know him." "What's his number?" Alison repeated, smiling sweetly. "It's in my phone," Mandy reached down to her purse under the table. "I'm sure he'd love to hear from you." "It's you, isn't it?" Alison's voice was a whisper, but it rang out in Mandy's head like a gong. She held on to Mandy's hand, stopping her from reaching down, and looked her straight in the eye. Mandy said nothing; did nothing. After a moment, she simply closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh my God!" Alison whispered excitedly. "Fucking hell, that's awesome." Mandy's eyes shot open to see Alison's beaming face. This was not the reaction she'd expected. "I didn't say..." Mandy began. "Oh my God." Alison was looking at her with new eyes now: analyzing her every pore. "That is pretty cool. Great boobs!" Mandy smiled despite herself. "You have to tell me everything! Are they real? They look real." "Can we go somewhere else?" * * * * * Alison's apartment was tidier than the last time Mandy had visited. The couch and carpet had been vacuumed, and the kitchen was clean. "Expecting guests?" Mandy asked, as she watched Alison un-strap her papoose and set Molly down on the floor. "Maybe," the young girl replied with a knowing smile. "Do you want anything, tea, coffee?" "No thanks. The place looks great, seriously." "Okay, spill. No changing the subject." Mandy crossed her arms under her breasts, hugging herself. "You can't tell anyone," she said finally, in a small voice. "Please, promise me." "Hey, it's all right. I won't, I promise. I'm your friend Mandy. I just... I just want to know how..." Alison opened her hands. "It's makeup, and padding and ... I'm a good actress I guess." "Actress huh?" Alison smiled, biting her lip. "Use your real voice." Mandy took a deep breath and swallowed, closing her eyes. "Hi," Andy said, his voice strange to his own ears. He felt like Mandy was doing an impression. "You can't tell anyone," he repeated, his eyes welling up. "Oh my God! That is fucking cool," Alison squealed, clapping her hands together. "Oh God don't cry, it's cool, honest." She ran forward and wrapped her arms around Mandy, squeezing her tight. "I promise," she said. "Thank you," Mandy whispered, in her voice as the two women held their embrace. "You really think this is cool?" "God yeah. It's totally unreal." Alison released her grasp and pulled away, staring at Mandy's face. "Unreal," she repeated in a whisper. "You've not had surgery or anything?" "Just some collagen," Mandy said, embarrassed by the attention and pouting. "So your boobs?" "They're silicon and latex," "And your ass?" "Just stuffing and a tight girdle." "So you still have your..." "Yes," Mandy cut her off with an embarrassed smile. "Wow," Alison said to herself. "You're the most beautiful and capable woman I know, and you're a dude." "Really? You think I'm beautiful." Alison tilted her head and smiled. "You dressed up for me, this afternoon, didn't you?" she asked. "Yes." "It's a lovely dress." "Thanks." "This is fucking weird," Alison said, walking into the kitchen and pouring a glass of water. Mandy gathered the pleats of her dress behind her and sat carefully on the couch. On the floor in front of her, Molly wriggled and gurgled. "This is actually your mom isn't it?" Alison asked finally, setting the empty glass on the kitchen counter. "I mean, you are. You know what I mean." "I needed to look after Emma. I didn't want them taking her away." "Your little girl? I mean, your... sister?" Mandy nodded. "Why would they take her away? What happened to you? Your mom?" Alison's eyes grew wide as she remembered a previous conversation. "Oh my God!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "It took a blow to the head to really wake me up. Metaphorically speaking, of course." Mandy had said. "What happened?" Alison asked. "I killed her," Mandy replied. "Overnight. I just decided to be a better mother, a better woman. I became someone else, and decided to try every day to be her. I've been doing it so long now I think I am her." "You killed her? Holy fuck you killed your own mom!?" Alison's mouth hung open. "It wasn't like that. I didn't. I swear." The boy who was Mandy stood up, her hands trembling as she moved towards the kitchen. "You said." "I know, I didn't mean it like that. " "You didn't mean it. What the fuck happened?" "My mom was a drunk. She was a who-... a prostitute. I don't know who my dad is, and I have no idea who Emma's dad is. Neither did she. She was hardly there when I was growing up." "So you killed her for that?" "No! I swear. I promise. Well, not exactly." "Not exactly! Get the fuck out of here!" "She OD'd! Okay!" Andy yelled, his voice cracking. Before Alison's eyes, Mandy vanished - to be replaced by a sobbing, scared, young boy. "I found her dead on her bed one morning. She'd come back with some guy, and I'd hid like I was supposed to. I didn't kill her. I didn't kill her." Andy collapsed, the skirt of his dress billowing around him as he landed heavily on the floor. He curled up into a ball, sobbing and shaking. "Shh, it's okay." Mandy felt Alison wrapping her arms around him, stroking his long blonde hair. "Jesus Christ, that's intense," Alison said kissing Andy on the temple. "You believe me?" he asked, his voice quivering. "You're all sorts of fucked up, but there's no way you killed anyone," she replied. "This is a bit of a strange reaction to all of that, I have to say." Andy looked up at her and smiled, wiping the tears from his smudged face. "I just wanted to look after Emma." "What did you do with her body?" "I waited 'til nighttime and dug up the garden," Andy replied sniffing. "Mom always liked roses." * * * * * "Hey honey, how are you?" Zoe answered the phone on its third ring, waking her up from her nap. She'd been overtired since her date the other night, and while Mandy had asked her to look after Emma, she hadn't been able to help herself. She had curled up on her bed for a ten-minute sleep. The clock on her phone showed she had been asleep for three hours. "Hi," Zoe said groggily. She rubbed her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Are you all right, you sound funny?" "I'm fine," Mandy replied. "I'm just going to stay here a little while longer, if that's all right?" "Sure, sure," Zoe said, stretching and standing up. "No problem." "Thanks babe. Take care." Mandy hung up and left Zoe standing in her room. The house was quiet. "Emma?" Zoe shouted. There was no reply. * * * * * "Oh God I'm a mess," Mandy said staring at her reflection in Alison's bedroom mirror. Her eyeliner was smudged and had run, and her mascara had left spider trails on her eyelids. "Do you mind if I fix my face?" "Be my guest," Alison said, watching the fake woman intently from her position on the bed. Mandy took some cotton wool from out of a glass bowl and dabbed on some of Alison's make-up remover, before gently dabbing it around her eyes. "Are you going to take it all off?" Alison asked. "What do you mean?" "I mean: I'd like to see you. Without the makeup, I mean." "You would?" Mandy stopped and turned to face her friend. "I would," Alison replied with a smile. "Wait here," Mandy said, dropping the cotton wool into the table and dashing off out of the room. In a moment she returned with her bag, and removed three small bottles from her purse. "I keep these for emergencies. Should be enough." Mandy continued to remove her makeup, but less carefully now. In no time she had wiped away her green eyeshadow, black eyeliner and bright red lipstick, her rose blusher and light foundation. The face that was revealed was still Mandy, but less so. Alison watched intently as the woman in front of her applied some of the mysterious lotion to another cotton ball, and wiped it around her eyes, mouth and chin. Some more foundation appeared to come off with it, but then, looking closer, she realized it was something else. Fine lines had started to appear where Mandy had applied the lotion. "I hope this doesn't freak you out," Mandy said, aware that Alison had sat forward. Mandy reached up to her forehead and, with delicate fingers, gently began to peel away the mask from her face. Alison watched, holding her breath, as the face in front of her changed and was pulled away. The complexion underneath was red, and sore. The nose came away, and the cheekbones. Finally, the whole face came away in Mandy's hands. "Cool." The face underneath was similar, but different: A much younger face, for one, and less feminine. It was still not completely the boy she remembered - he was older, and his lips were much plumper. Andy handed her the mask wordlessly, nervously watching her face for any sign of disgust or fear. There was none, just open-mouthed interest. Alison took the mask gently, and turned it over in her hands. It was still very warm, and very thin. She noticed it felt thicker in places - places, obviously, where the two faces differed. "That's amazing," "Thanks," Andy said, still in his Mandy voice. Alison looked up and gently laid the mask to one side. "Okay, that's really weird," she said, standing eye to eye with Andy. "Your voice is... Your body... Take off your dress," she commanded. "What?" Andy asked. "Take it off. I want to see," she said eagerly. "Hey, you wore it for me. I can tell you what to do with it. Take it off." "All right." Andy reached behind his back to between his shoulder blades and found the small zipper, which he pulled down with a hard tug. The front of the dress crumpled as he reached up to one shoulder, slipping off the sleeves of the dress one after the other. With a nervous smile he let the top of the dress fall, revealing his push-up bra, bare tummy and the lacy top of his nude girdle. He reached down with slender fingers and wriggled the dress down over his wide hips, letting it fall and gather on the carpeted floor. Alison stood in front of him, one small hand covering her open mouth. Her eyes ran up and down Andy's feminized figure like a child at Christmas, unable to decide what to look at first. "Bra," she said eventually, pointing to the pretty white embroidered push-up bra Andy wore. Wordlessly, Andy slipped the straps from his shoulders. He brought one manicured hand over the cups, to hold it in place, while, with his other hand, he reached behind his back and, with a quick flick, released the clasp and letting the sheer sides of the garment fall on either side of his bust. He counted to three in his head, and pulled away the molded cups with a flourish, releasing his large round breasts and causing them to bounce gently. Alison stared at him. "Wow," she said, her eyes staring straight at Andy's naked breasts. "Do you want to touch them?" Andy asked, his voice a curious mixture of Mandy's and his own. "Yeah!" Alison said excitedly, reaching out with both hands to cup and squeeze the naked breasts before her. "Oh my God!" she said, pushing Andy's boobs together and letting them fall back. She ran her fingers down and around them, gently squeezing and fondling. Her index finger found the slightly puffy nipple, and she recoiled, snapping back her hand as thought it had been shocked. "Can you feel that?" she asked. "No," Andy replied. "They're fake. Can't feel a thing. Sadly." Alison grinned then, her eyes meeting his for the first time since he started to undress. "You have very nice boobs," she said flatly. "I am quite jealous." "I think yours are beautiful," he replied without thinking. "Oh God, you've seen my tits haven't you? Oh... Oh well, fair's fair I suppose. Thank you," she said, blushing at the memory. "Do they come off?" "They do, but I don't have enough..." he gestured to the bottles on the counter. "You'll just have to take my word for it." "Okay. Take that off then." She pointed at the thick girdle. "Really?" "Yes, I want to see." "I'm not sure..." "Oh come on," she said. "I really don't think..." "I want to see!" She grabbed the top of the girdle then and pulled it down as hard as she could, bending her knees as she did to squat in front of him. As the tight garment wriggled down, Andy's hip and bum pads sprang free and fell onto the floor. She yanked it down further - easier now with less curves to contend with. She was so caught up in the excitement of the moment she only barely registered that this was naked flesh under this garment. With a final tug she pulled it down to his thighs, and squealed as Andy's very erect cock sprang free from between his thighs. "Oh!" she squealed, falling back in surprise. "I'm so sorry," Andy began, the shame and embarrassment flushing his cheeks as he reached down and tucked himself between his thighs. "Sorry," he said again, quieter. Alison said nothing. She sat on the floor looking up at him, and then at the lingerie and padding that lay scattered around her. She let out a girlish giggle and then burst out laughing. Andy laughed too; crouching down with firmly pressed together thighs to join her on the floor. "I guess," Alison said eventually, still giggling. "I guess I should have seen that coming. I thought maybe you had a fake ass too or something. Sorry." "That would be great," Andy said, sitting down next to her and hugging his knees against his bosom. "I hate that thing." Alison reached out and picked up the still-warm panty girdle. "Yeah," she agreed, examining it. "Not sexy. Can I ask you something?" "Sure, anything." "Well, you must like it. Being Mandy, I mean. And you're really good at it, like really good." Andy blushed. "Do you want to be her all the time? Like, do you wish you were her?" "Honestly? I don't know. I used to think she was the prettiest woman in the world, and I thought I could do it better. Everything was simpler when that's all I was doing." "How long have you been pretending to be her? All this time?" "Yeah." "That's been years!" "I know, it just..." Andy tailed off. "I've been lucky. I haven't grown much and I've been taking these herbal tablets Zoe got for me." "Zoe?" "My friend. She's a beautician." "No shit." Andy laughed. "Wait here," Alison said, standing up and leaving the room. "Don't move!" she shouted from the hallway. In a few moments she was back, carrying the now-sleeping Molly. She gently laid her in the cot next to the bed. "Do you want me to go?" Andy asked, carefully standing up and reaching for his underwear. "No," she replied, smiling. "No I don't. This is really weird, but very cool." From his bag, Andy heard a loud vibrating as his mobile phone buzzed against the leather. "I should get that," he said as Alison walked towards him. She kissed him then. An urgent, wet kiss that pressed their lips and bodies together. Andy felt her giggling. 'What is it?" he asked as they separated. "This is really weird," she said, kissing him again. Andy turned his head, distracted again by the sound of the phone buzzing. "It can wait," she said, unzipping her jeans and shimmying out of them to Andy's surprise. "I promise. Help me?" She turned around and crouched in front of him, presenting him with the back of her black lace top, and the three round buttons that ran down her spine to the middle of her back. With trembling fingers, Andy undid the buttons and drew back the lacey fabric that had been so tight against her flawless back. In one motion Alison reached behind her back and pulled her top up and over her bright pink hair, discarding it in a pile on the floor next to her skinny black jeans. Satisfied, Alison spun around and, with a mischievous smile, delivered a chaste peck onto Andy's plump lips. "What are you.." Andy begun, but Alison shushed him. "You smell of perfume," she said with a giggle, licking her lips. "And you taste of lip gloss." "Sorry," Andy said, pulling away. "No, don't be," Alison grinned, holding him tightly and kissing him again, more forcefully this time. Her tongue darted into his mouth as their lips parted. Andy closed his eyes and tried to relax into the moment, but couldn't - it felt strange and wrong to be this naked with someone. Alison ended the kiss with a pout, and released him from her grasp. "Get on the bed," she commanded. Andy did as he was told, moving back to the small double bed and climbing on top of it before shimmying back towards the pillows. He sat up against the headboard and stretched his legs out on front of him. Excited, Alison bounced onto the bed in front of him, her breasts jiggling in the too-tight pink bra she wore. She landed heavily, narrowly missing Andy's feet, and straddled him across his stomach, her naked buttocks spreading over his groin. She felt soft and warm against his bare skin. She bent down and placed her hands on either side of his head, careful of his long platinum blonde hair, and kissed him. Andy reached around her back and effortlessly unclasped her bra, sliding his hands down her spine and enjoying the feel of her in his hands. He felt her smile as she kissed him. "You have better boobs than me," she whispered. "Bitch." She sat up then, holding her loose bra cups with one hand, parodying the move Andy had made earlier. With a flourish, she whipped the garment off and threw it over her shoulder. Her engorged boobs bounced against her chest, full and round with large puffy nipples. "Do you want to touch them?" she asked, arching and eyebrow. "Oh," she giggled, squirming as she felt his manhood swell beneath her. "I guess you do." He reached up gingerly towards her naked breasts, his feminine hands stroking and massaging as he began to breath faster and faster. He pulled her down to him then, and licked her, sucking lightly on those fat nipples he envied so much. He wanted to touch her everywhere. She moaned as he sucked and he ran his soft hands down her sides to round her fleshy behind, squeezing her cheeks as he licked and sucked her breasts. "Wait, wait wait," she said, pulling back and rising off his body onto her knees and rolling to one side. She bent over, reaching to the pink lacy g-string that was all she wore. Lifting her bottom off the bed, she slipped the underwear down her thighs, and rolled it down her legs before throwing it in the same direction her bra had gone. Andy watched fascinated as she sat upright and stretched out in the direction of her bedside table. She urgently opened a drawer, rummaged inside, and gave a little triumphant squeak. Condom packet in hand, she swung around on the bed and knelt in front of him. "You don't mind?" she asked, as she tore open the square packet. "No, no," he stammered. "I've never done this before." "Oh don't worry I'll put it on," she smiled, removing the condom and crawling towards him. "No, I mean..." She stopped and looked at the naked boy-woman on her bed. "Oh," she said, drawing out the vowel with a pout to her lips. "Okay. Are you cool with...?" "Yes," he said quickly with a sheepish smile. She smiled at him, flashing her straight white teeth. "Easy! There's plenty of time for that. Okay, honestly, you've been pretending to be a chick for years, but, how much do you actually know?" "Not much I guess." "That's what I thought. Don't worry," she added, taking the condom and unrolling it down the length of his cock. "You're in good hands." * * * * * Zoe had checked and rechecked every room in the house, and was now in a blind panic. There was no sign of Emma anywhere and Mandy's bedroom looked like a bomb had hit it: there was make-up everywhere, covering her make-up table, her mirror, the chair and the carpet. Even the bed had traces of liquid foundation smeared over the blanket. Zoe wasn't sure if Emma had been playing or if vandals were at work. Frustrated, she put her phone back in the pocket of her jeans. Mandy wasn't answering. She would try again in a moment. She called out again, checking upstairs and down and looking in impossible places - kitchen cupboards, her laundry basket. She dropped down onto all fours and looked under Mandy's bed and was surprised to see a large white box wrapped with a bow. Zoe slid the box towards her, and opened it. A woman's face lay on top, staring back serenely with no eyes. Zoe jumped back in fright, and then pulled herself together. Who was this woman? Carefully, she picked up the mask and laid it to one side. Underneath was a large black notebook and photographs: hundreds and hundreds of photographs. She began to open the notebook when one particular photo caught her eye. It was John, she was sure of it, standing next to this woman. He wore a suit. She wore a wedding dress. What the hell are you up to? Zoe thought, just as she heard the squeal of brakes from outside the house. Emma! She jumped to her feet and ran down the stairs and outside the house, her heart thumping in her chest. A crowd was already forming in the middle of the street as Zoe ran out towards it. A short distance away a young man emerged, white and shaking, from his car. Oh God no, Zoe thought as she approached the scene. She broke through the people gathered and looked down. A golden Labrador lay bleeding on the road. Oh thank God, she thought, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. "Will he be okay Aunt Zoe?" Zoe turned to see Emma as part of the crowd, her face and clothes covered with makeup. "Oh thank God," Zoe said, wrapping her arms around the little girl and squeezing her tight. * * * * * The house was in darkness as Mandy slowly and carefully pushed her key into the lock. She was careful not to make a sound as she silently turned the key, wincing as the lock clicked open. She deliberately and carefully opened her front door, and removed her heeled shoes as she entered, determined to make as little noise as possible. With palms outstretched, she gently closed the door behind her. "Hello," a voice said from within the dark. Mandy jumped. "Jesus Zoe, you scared me half to death," she said, clutching her free hand to her chest. A light went on from within the living room, revealing Zoe sitting in the dark. On the table next to her, a white box lay gift-wrapped. "Where have you been?" Zoe asked, her arms folded across her chest. "I was with Alison," Mandy replied, coming into the light and sitting across from her friend. "I told you." "I tried to phone you." "Oh yes. Sorry, it wasn't a good time. Was it important?" "Emma went missing." "What? Is she all right, did you find her?" "Eventually. I thought she'd been in a car accident." "What!? Oh my god, is she all right?" "She's fine. She's fine. It's okay. It was the neighbor's dog. Emma had gotten tired playing with your makeup and decided to play in the garden." Mandy sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. I'm sorry I wasn't here. Everything is fine though?" "Well, apart from an hour spent cleaning up your room, carpet, bedclothes and Emma, yes." "I'm sorry," Mandy repeated. "How did she get in a mess anyway? Weren't you watching her?" "That's not the point. Where were you? Isn't all this," she gestured at Mandy, "so you can look after her? Or is that just bullshit, Andrew?" "You know where I was," Mandy said quietly. "I know where you were. Getting your kicks playing at mommy with some girl you've got a crush on." "That's not fair." "Isn't it? I can't go on a date without you judging me, leaving me to baby-sit while you go out and have fun. You're pretending to be her mom. Be her mom. But this isn't about that any more. You just like it." "Stop it." "Admit it. The need for this charade," she spat the word, "is long gone. God, why did I ever help you?" "Stop it. Please." "And now, I find this," she tugged the top of the box nearby and threw it onto the floor. "Who is she Andrew? Who are you going to be now? Now that John wants to fuck you, are you off? A new mommy to become?" "Shut up!" The words came out as a scream, silencing Zoe, and almost echoing around the house. "Just... stop. Please," Mandy said, collapsing against the couch, her eyes glistening. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed, her long blonde hair hanging down, covering her face. "Mommy?" A small voice asked sleepily from the bottom of the staircase. Emma, in her pink and white spotted pajamas, rubbed her eyes as she shuffled into the living room. "Why are you crying?" "Hello darling," Mandy sniffed, wiping away two fat tears and smiling at her daughter. "I heard you had fun with my makeup." "I'm sorry mommy, I made a mess. Aunty Zoe and I cleaned it up. Please don't be mad at me." "Oh sweetheart," Mandy picked up her daughter and dropped her on her lap. "I'm not mad at you, I promise. I love you so much." "Where have you been?" Emma asked, wrapping her tiny arms around Mandy's neck. "I was with my friend Alison and her little girl, Molly. Molly's a new baby, just like you were." "Is she small?" "She's tiny. And she wasn't well, because she was so tiny. So her mommy had to feed her and make her big and strong." "Are you going to be her mommy too?" Emma asked sleepily. "Oh no sweetheart. Alison's her mommy. You're my little princess. I love you darling, more than anything." "I love you too," the little girl muttered, her eyes closed. Mandy held the little girl in silence for an age, feeling her gently drifting off to sleep. Mandy looked up and gave Zoe a half smile. "Can we talk?" Mandy whispered. "Sure." "I need a friend. Things are very messed up." * * * * * The two women stood over Emma as she lay sleeping in her bed. Mandy had carefully carried her upstairs to her room after they had talked, and laid her down with a kiss on her forehead. She slept peacefully, her tiny face relaxed and serene in the lamplight. "She's so beautiful," Zoe whispered. "You've done a good job." "We've done a good job," Mandy corrected her. "Thank you for looking after her today. I'm sorry." "I'm sorry too." They tiptoed out of the room and into Zoe's bedroom, closing the door gently behind them and sitting down next to each other on the bed. "So, let's recap," Zoe said with a grin. "You thought you fancied John but he turned out to be a power hungry former trick of Mandy's, and he wants you to impersonate his dead wife for sex, but he's happy to pay you for it. Alison's figured out who you are, but seems, let's say, more than cool about it, and you like her too. You are also an eighteen-year-old boy who is also a thirty-six year old woman, and your sister thinks you are her mother. And your best friend is being mean to you because you're getting more action than she is. I have no idea why you think things are messed up." Mandy hit her friend playfully on the arm. "I'm really sorry. Really." "What am I going to do?" Mandy asked. "I just want things back to how they were." "Well, first you're going to stop keeping things from me. I'm your best friend, Mandy." "I love you Zoe," Mandy said, her voice cracking. "I love you too," Zoe replied, squeakily. They hugged, holding each other for a long time. "What am I going to do?" Mandy repeated. "Let's give John what he wants."