Life Out Of Joint - Chapter 1/7: Home For Halloween free porn video

LIFE OUT OF JOINT ================= by Crazy Baron DISCLAIMERS This work is not intended to make profit. It may be distributed to forums where it can be read free of charge, provided that the author gives his explicit permission and that the text is not altered. While it contains copyrighted intellectual property (namely, appearances of fictional characters), no copyright infringement is intended. As the story deals with topics and themes related to sexuality, violence and mental illness, it is intended for mature readers only. The people and incidents depicted herein are completely fictional. THE STORY Chapter 1/7 -- Home for Halloween Synopsis: Michael Caldwell, a man in his late thirties hoping to carve out a career in science, comes to visit his parents and his sister Kate on Halloween. Kate invites him to a party with their mutual friends, and he accepts, not knowing that he is in for an extremely unusual experience. ***** I had just sat down on the couch with a cup of coffee in my hand when I heard my cell phone ring. For a moment I toyed with the idea of not answering it and pretending I was asleep, but then my politeness got the better of me and I gave in. "Mike Caldwell," I mumbled my name. "Hi, Mike," my sister's voice greeted me. "I didn't wake you up, did I?" "It's past eleven." "Yeah, I know." "That's funny, Kate. Did you actually have a reason to call me, other than checking if I'm up?" "Sure. Mom and I want to know if you're coming home for Halloween." "We'll see. I guess I'd like to, but something might turn up." "Such as what? When will you know?" "I'm not really sure about that either. I'll give you a call tomorrow." "Come on, why not spend some quality time with your family? It's not like we see each other every day anymore, and I don't believe you're really all that busy there." "Good point. I'll show up tomorrow if my car doesn't have any more of those funny little surprises in store for me." "Great! See you, bye!" Putting the phone on the table, I managed to catch a glimpse of myself in the large hallway mirror, which was one of the very few luxury items in my modest city apartment. In front of me there was an image of a man in his late 30s, dressed only in red boxers and a slightly faded t- shirt, looking back at me. His chin and cheeks were covered in stubble, and the dark brown hair was a mess as well. He was perhaps a bit on the short side, around five foot eight or nine, and kind of stout but not really fat. Simply put, that was me. Not a great looker and definitely not in the best shape of his life, but things could have been worse, I suppose. My sister was right about me having nothing important to do there. Right now, I was technically out of work as nobody was paying me anything. I was a graduate student at the University, trying to write my thesis, and getting actually paid depended on what kind of funding my professor could arrange for me and the others in our group. Our previous project had ended in early September, and there was still no news of the next one, so I had to make do with my savings. According to an e-mail the professor had sent me yesterday, things were looking up and my next paycheck might come some time next month, so I was not too worried, but this financial uncertainty was admittedly getting on my nerves, not to mention my bank account. As a matter of fact, my old PC was still on, with the humble beginnings of my next peer-reviewed article open in the text editor on the desktop. I saved what little changes I had made to the draft manuscript this morning, closed the program and checked the e-mails again, hoping to find something, anything new about the next project. No luck--just some automatic mailing list reminders and a spam message advertising some bogus journal, which I promptly deleted. Since it was starting to seem that I would not be able to get any real work done today, I logged out and shut down the machine. That took longer than usual, and I momentarily wondered if the operating system was acting up before the screen finally went black and the cooler fans stopped their humming. So far, it had not given me serious trouble, and since I very much believed in the old adage "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," I was one of those people still sticking with Windows 7, even at this late date. As long as it worked and kept my files reasonably safe, I was happy with it. The more I thought about visiting my folks, the more attractive the idea started to seem. I was somewhat lonely in the city, a single guy with most of his old friends scattered across the country and nothing very urgent to do. Having a beer with one of my co-workers was a possibility, but then I had done that the day before yesterday, and there actually were only two or three people with whom I felt like socializing outside of our workplace. It wasn't that I couldn't get along with the majority of them; they simply weren't drinking buddy material, as far as I was concerned. In sum, nothing was really keeping me here. And so it was in the next afternoon that I took a left turn at my parents' house after some two and a half hours of what I considered fairly relaxed driving. A memory stick full of hand-picked MP3s, plugged in the car stereo, had kept me entertained, and the weather was nice as well: there were patches of white clouds in the sky but no rain, and it was still quite warm for late October. I pulled up in front of the garage and got out, glad to be home and glad to be able to stretch my legs. My home was just like I remembered it; a white, two-story wooden house with a porch, surrounded by a bunch of old trees and lots of lawn. I took in a deep breath of fresh countryside air and enjoyed the scent of fall. I simply loved the nature and the open space here, two things sadly lacking in the city. Greensville was a small town, even by local standards, and both of the neighboring houses were a few hundred yards away, which felt especially nice after being surrounded by people in the streets, on the buses, in the office and even (in a manner of speaking) in my own apartment, where the walls could not always block all the sounds from the neighboring apartments. As I was about to reach for the front door handle, Kate opened the door from the inside so suddenly that it almost hit me in the face. Not missing a beat, she reached out and gave me a tight hug. "Good to have you home," she said against my shoulder. "Good to be home," I responded, hugging her back. "Are Mom and Dad here?" "No, they're out shopping but should be back in an hour or so." Even now, I still sometimes thought of my kid sister as just that--a kid, even though she had turned thirty-one this year. She looked a good five years younger than that, though; had we been unrelated, I would have unhesitatingly described her as a beautiful woman with a pretty face and a svelte body, about 5' 4" tall. It never seized to amaze me how our baby had grown up so fast. Ever the academic over-achiever and the bright one of her family, she was now a successful lawyer, undoubtedly with a stellar career ahead of her. Needless to say, I was extremely proud of her, as were our parents. "So," I began after she let go of me, "how are things? How are you... you know, holding up?" "As well as can be expected, I guess," she said, looking down. "These things take time." "Of course." "I would be lying if I said I'm not bitter at all, but life goes on. I'll survive." "You're better off without that shitbag. I've said this before and I'll say it again, if need be." "I know. You never liked him much anyway." "Yeah. That doesn't mean I was glad to be proven right in this case, though, but... Anyway, you'll find someone who deserves you." "I hope so," she sighed. It hurt me to see her this sad. She was still recovering from a messy divorce that ended her marriage after it had lasted a mere four months last summer. The man was a creep, to put it in the most polite terms possible, and both my parents and I had had a very bad feeling about him from the time we first saw him last year. Kate was head over heels in love with him, however, and they had married quickly, much to our chagrin. Still, I was happy that he had shown his true colors so soon and they had separated before any truly serious harm had come to her. "You will, trust me." "Now that you're here," she said and cracked a small smile, "I even believe you. Welcome home, big bro." It didn't take me long to get settled. After taking my jacket off, I headed upstairs into my old room to find everything in proper order and almost all of my old things accounted for. Mom still kept the room ready and waiting for me, even though I had moved out after high school, almost two decades ago. I continued to visit my parents sort of semi-regularly, and it was nice to sleep in my old bed every once in a while and enjoy the nostalgic memories of my youth. Having soon unpacked what little luggage I had brought with me, I went back downstairs and sat down at the dinner table. "Coffee?" Kate offered. She had anticipated that I needed my fix of caffeine, and sure enough, the coffee maker was already busy at work on the kitchen counter. "Please," I said. "I haven't had any today." "Oh, you poor thing," she laughed and put the cup in front of me. In less than a minute, I was sipping my coffee mixed with a moderate amount of milk but no sugar, as was my preferred way of having it. "So, what's new?" I asked. "How is the old town?" "Nothing memorable," she responded after pouring herself a cup and taking a seat opposite of me. "I've been here for five days now. Took some time off. My boss was very understanding about this whole thing." "I'm glad to hear that. What about Mom and Dad?" "I guess they're just happy for me that the nightmare is over. They insisted that I stay for a while and rest, but I've been doing some minor distance work whenever I feel like it. I'm going back to the city in a week or so, but I thought this would be a good time to catch up and be together as a family." "Right." "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just talking about me all the time." "No, it's fine. I understand." "You wanted to know how they are doing, didn't you? Well, they're fine. Mom still has some of those back pains every now and then, but she keeps telling me it's nothing serious." "She always says that no matter what, and I doubt it." "So do I. Other than that, they seem fine and in good spirits. They were excited to hear you were coming here." "And still no wife or grandkids to show," I laughed. "They must be disappointed in me." "And in me," Kate added. "They got their hopes up when I finally walked down the aisle. Even though they hated... him, they would have just loved to have a grandchild to spoil." "Of course. It's not like any of us is getting any younger." "At least we can spend this Halloween together and worry about things later." "Yep." For a moment, I felt tired and suppressed a yawn. Apparently the journey here had taken a greater toll on me than I had at first assumed, but maybe the coffee would work its magic, I thought. "Anyway, about Halloween," Kate continued. "My friends and I are actually organizing a small party. Free food and drink, and you're invited. So, what do you say?" "Sounds nice," I commented and took a sip. "Will that be on Saturday? If I recall, the official trick-or-treating hours in this town always used to be on the last Saturday in October." "Yeah; Saturday night, starting at 6:30, so it's as official as can be. The place is the Benton house, and costumes are mandatory." "Costumes? What kind of costumes?" I asked as I stretched my arms and once more enjoyed the fact that I was no longer behind the wheel of my car. "Jake, Scott and I could dress up as the Blues Brothers like we did two years ago. That was as close to having fun as I've ever managed to get while wearing a Halloween costume." "Maybe, but to do the same routine all over again would be kind of lame," Kate commented. "You just put on your old black suit, borrow Dad's black tie and hat and wear your sunglasses. It's conveniently simple for you, but where's the imagination in that? Besides, the Blues Brothers doesn't fit our theme." "You said nothing about a theme." "Well, we do have one." "And what would that be?" "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." I couldn't help but frown. Kate, who didn't want to give me time to come up with an excuse to miss the party, continued hurriedly, "I know you're not exactly the biggest fan of Buffy, but hear me out first. All you have to do is put on a costume and come. We're probably not even going to play our usual role games but if we do play, you don't have to participate if you don't want to. You don't have to watch a dozen episodes with us or something like that. All I'm saying is you shouldn't stay at home just because you hate the show. There's a lot more to the party." "I don't hate the show," I corrected her. "Like you said, I may not be the biggest fan but 'hate' is too strong a word. I just fail to see what all the excitement and praises are really about. It's simply not my thing." "That's another way of saying you dislike it." "There is a difference between disliking and hating, you know." "Have you ever actually watched it? More than a single episode?" "Sure I have; maybe a total of three episodes. Didn't work for me. That's that." "Maybe you shouldn't have given up on it so quickly." "The thing is, I usually know pretty soon if I'm possibly going to be enjoying something or not, and when I don't get that positive feeling-- -" Obviously not in the mood to argue with me endlessly, she cut me off with, "Whatever. But promise you'll come, and remember to invite Jake too. Charlie and Scott are also coming, and someone you knew back in school." She got up and prepared to leave, likely having more or less given up on me already. "Speaking of the costumes," I said. "What should I wear?" A happy smile spread instantly across her face. "I mean, if I decide to come after all," I added quickly. "We'll supply the costume," she explained, still smiling triumphantly. "Leave it to me and my friends. We'll take care of it." Putting her cup in the sink, she continued, "Mike, it would be nice if you could go get some groceries. The list's downstairs, along with some money Mom left me." "I just got home," I protested. "Let me get some rest first." "You get enough rest in your city apartment. Come on, be a good boy and help me and your Mom." "Alright then," I said. Even though she had made a request instead of flat out ordering me to go shopping, she would have nagged about it until I would have gotten fed up and complied anyway; Kate, like my mother, was very efficient at manipulating people that way. So I finished my tea, got on my feet, picked up the list and the money, pulled on my jacket and jumped into my car. Even though I had spent my fair share of time on the road that day, I nevertheless enjoyed the additional little trip. Taking the longer and more scenic of the two possible routes, I drove to the center of the sleepy little countryside town, noticing that all the houses were still in place. As an added bonus, I even managed to see a train at the railroad crossing. The red signals were flashing as I approached the crossing, the gates went down, and as I waited right next to them, an elderly diesel locomotive came slowly, pulling a couple of cars. This was an old industrial siding leading to a factory area a couple of miles outside Greensville, and it saw very little traffic these days, but somehow it had managed to avoid being closed down completely. Although I had been delayed here by trains many times before, usually cursing to myself, this seemed almost like an additional welcoming ceremony and I was actually smiling to myself as I saw the train roll by. This was home alright, I thought. A few minutes later, I pulled up in front of the grocery store and went in, after making sure I had locked the car doors and double checking that I had the keys in my pocket. I was done with the shopping in no time and decided to go and see if Jake White was at home. Jake and I had been close friends ever since elementary school and we had spent two years as college roommates until he dropped out and I was forced to live with a History sophomore who was probably a lot more intelligent than me but looked like a horse and even sounded like one when he laughed. Jake was now a technician in training, and by what I had heard, he was going to get a job at a small local factory near our old home town. For the time being, he was staying at his parents' house, and I figured I had a good chance of finding him there. The White family lived in a house quite similar to ours on the other side of the town, but because of the diminutive size of Greensville, that only meant driving two extra miles. Pulling over in their driveway, I noticed that the place had stayed much the same; but, then again, hardly anything in this town ever seemed to change. The figure that was crouched over a moped in the front yard was also instantly recognizable. Jake, who had always been a little on the plump side, had obviously gained a few more pounds since the last time I had seen him and was now, to put it simply and bluntly, fat. "Hullo there!" I called after stepping out of my car. Jake turned his head, put down the screwdriver he had been using to take the engine of the bike apart and stood up with a smile on his face. "Mike!" he exclaimed happily. "If it isn't the University Man himself. How are you doing?" "Fine, as you can see. And you?" "Same old, same old. You know what I'd like to do? Stuff a piece of cloth into the gas tank of this damn useless machine and light it up. That ought to be fun." "I take it's been giving you some trouble." "You bet. The ignition is all over the place, and even when I can get it to start, it won't run on idle." "Since when have you had it?" "It's not mine; my kid cousin turns 15 next month, and my uncle is giving it to the boy as a birthday gift. He asked me to see if I could fix it up a little, but I guess I'm in over my head with this thing. Want a beer? I've got some in the house." "Thanks for the offer, but I'm driving." "So--are you having one or not?" We shared a quick laugh and then sat down on the porch of the house together. Jake took off his glasses, wiped the lenses clean with the sleeve of his shirt and yawned. It was apparent that he had spent a good few hours with the machine. "The garden's still growing," I commented. It took Jake a second or so to realize I meant his scruffy reddish beard. Growing facial hair had been one of our pet projects during our senior year in high school and again during our freshman year in college, but whereas I had eventually bailed out and shaved my beard off, Jake had kept his. It had reached impressive length and thickness over the past years. "Oh yes," my friend responded finally. "Come on, let yours grow too. You looked like a real bohemian with your beard." "I bet I did," I said laughing. "It didn't help me to get girls, though." "Has that smooth chin done anything to improve the quality of your social life, then?" "It's not the chin, mind you; it's the whole face and body. They're the problem." As relatively civilized small talk, this was as typical as it could get between us two. Friendly teasing and witty comments about life in general were very much our forte. At times, especially when we were still in high school and feeling philosophical, we sometimes launched into hour-long discussions with topics ranging from the existence of God to specifications of Star Trek spaceships to anything imaginable. After a long day of studying or drinking in our college dorm, the conversations often deteriorated and started to revolve mostly around alcohol, obscenities, or the fact how a promising young life had turned into a series of disappointments, but nevertheless there was always a little optimism and good-natured geekiness left in both of us back then. However, I did not know for certain how to bring up the girls' costume party and ask Jake to attend too. I was fairly sure he would need more persuasion than me. I couldn't easily back out and simply skip the party any longer, and having as many of my friends around as possible would definitely make the event more tolerable. "By the way," I said, trying to sound as if none of it were such a big deal, "would you like going to a Halloween party?" "A party?" Jake asked. "Do people actually invite us to their parties?" "It's nothing terribly official, just something my sister and her friends are planning. It's likely to be similar to the one they had two years ago; remember that?" "Sure. We were men on a mission and, I might add, pretty damn drunk when it finally ended at three in the morning. I had fun." "I have to admit my recollections about the events after midnight are somewhat fragmented, to say the least, but it must have been great." "Yep, almost as great as the headache next morning. Remember when you soaked your tie and then your hat in the kitchen sink trying to drink water straight from the faucet for some unexplainable reason?" "Barely. Scott was hitting on all the girls and running around the place with no shirt on." "That cousin of yours is almost as crazy as you are, fun to hang around with. Get him drunk, and something unexpected is bound to happen sooner or later." "Right. Anyway, he is supposed to come this time as well, as is Charlie. I've been told we get to eat and drink as much as we want." "That much sounds good to me. Is there a specific theme this time?" I had no choice but to tell Jake what Kate had told me. I knew that he wasn't going to like it, and I was actually somewhat surprised by his relatively mild reaction. "Oh, I see. Since when have you been a Buffy fan?" "Since never," I said. "You know," he continued, "I remember the time when we tried to watch an episode of that on my shitty old TV set in our dorm room and ended up changing the channel. Same thing with Firefly. You once said that everything the creator of these shows, Whatshisname, has ever written is invariably crap, and I agreed." "That opinion still stands. Look, Kate said that we won't have to play their games or anything. Free beer and food is what matters. If it gets too tedious or weird, we can always split, go to my place, and start a little party of our own; just you, me, Charlie and Scott." "Are we going to need costumes?" "Yeah, but as I understood it, it might be something as simple as black leather jackets and plastic vampire fangs. The girls will supply the costumes, which I guess means they have gathered some old clothes for us to wear, along with wooden stakes and other small props." "I for one won't put on some moth-eaten cloak or fool around with stakes and crucifixes. You bet I won't." "Neither will I. Look, I'm not that enthusiastic about all this, but Kate sort of made me promise I'd come, and at least we can enjoy the food and the drink. It would be hell to be there alone with all those nutcases." "Okay, fine. You sold me. I'll come, but no role games, period." "Great! I have one worry, though." "What's that?" "Kate mentioned someone I knew back in school is coming too, so that might mean Larry." Lawrence William Simmons, or Larry as he was usually called by his friends, was the same age as me, Charlie, and Jake, and he had actually been a member of our gang since our last years in the elementary school. He had attended the same school as the rest of us despite the fact that he lived in the neighboring town some six miles away (I never discovered the exact reason for this). From the fourth of fifth grade on, he assumed the role of the quintessential class clown, making fun of everybody and getting in trouble with both the bullies and the teachers. His parents were apparently well-to-do people who bought their son whatever he asked; Larry had all the latest video games, and sometimes we dropped by just to borrow or play them. He seemed to get a new bike every six months. Needless to say, we envied him a lot--and were too childish to understand that there probably was more to him than the happy-go-lucky facade. That began to sink in some time during junior high. It was then that we slowly started to realize that perhaps Larry wasn't really as cheerful and carefree as he seemed to be. He still told jokes and fooled around like before, but something had changed. His antics got more and more outrageous, and he ended up spending lots of time in detention. He began to drink at fourteen and a year or two later moved on to marijuana and pills. At first, we suspected that his parents were planning a divorce, or that maybe he was terminally sick and didn't want to tell us, but these speculations proved to be completely off the mark. One day, when we were at school as usual, he said simply, "You know what, guys? I'm bisexual." Our immediate reaction was to laugh it off as another one of his eccentric jokes. Larry was clearly offended, but it took us a while to find out he was dead serious this time. He walked away and from that point on pretended not to know any of us anymore. Larry eventually did survive his personal crisis and graduate with the rest of our class, but even when I went over to congratulate him, he refused to speak to me. Even though I had met him twice after the graduation, we still weren't the closest of friends. Of his former friends he seemed to hate Jake the most, obviously because Jake had a generally conservative political stance and he held fairly strong opinions on a variety of issues. This, along with his tendency not to mince his words, had made him quite unpopular in certain circles and further deepened the rift between him and Larry. I was in no position to criticize Jake, however. I shared many of his views, and for this reason (or so I at least assumed) Larry was not overly fond of me either. "I hope not," Jake said slowly. "It would be pretty awkward for everybody if he came along." "You're right. I could try to tell Kate not to invite him, but she would simply start going on and on about how we need to reconcile. 'Isn't it time to let bygones be bygones, you can make up with him there, it's a great chance,' blah blah blah." "I know the tune." "If Larry shows up, we leave," I decided. "Or, at least if he shows up and opens his mouth." "The girls must be aware of our feelings towards him--and of his feelings towards us," Jake reasoned. "Inviting both him and us would lead to the party getting ruined, and they can't possibly want that. Since they're asking us to come, they may have left Larry out. It's a slim chance, but there's always hope." "Your assumption is fairly logical," I stated and cocked my left eyebrow. "Which reminds me. Charlie is planning a party too, something more to our taste. It's the traditional get-together at his place. Sci-Fi and war movies, beer by the gallon, loud rock music after eleven, the works." "When?" "He hasn't decided on the date just yet, but probably pretty soon. I promised him I'd tell you, and in fact I've been thinking of calling you, but now you spared me the trouble." "That's just great. Let's hope we all make it. Ah well," I continued and got up, "I guess it's time for me to go. The folks at home are waiting for the groceries. Anyway, it was really nice talking to you. We'll have to do this again but with more time to spend, go to a bar and have a drink or two. We've got a lot of catching up to do." "A drink or two, or three, or maybe ten," Jake said and grinned. "I'm all for that." "See you around, man." "You too," Jake responded. I was feeling great when I eventually got back home. During the drive I had suddenly remembered at least a dozen things I had meant to tell Jake and discuss with him, but there would be plenty of time for that later. Even if the girls' party turned out to be a disappointment, we could still have some fun on our own, and then there would be a Video & Beer Night courtesy of reliable Charlie. Just seeing my old buddy had lifted my spirits, and now I was really looking forward to getting our gang back together again. Since we all had eventually gone our separate ways after school, organizing these get-togethers had become somewhat difficult, but now things seemed promising. I parked my car, took the grocery bags and went into the house. Opening the door with both of my hands occupied by the bags was a bit difficult, but I managed and soon laid the load on the kitchen table. "I'm home!" I called out, receiving no response. Kate had to be home as the front door was not locked, so I figured that maybe she was in her room doing aerobics or something similar and hadn't heard me. She did her exercise routine fairly regularly, often once a day, with the door of her room closed and her stereo blasting. Curiously enough, everything was silent now. Usually the sound carried throughout the house, a fact that had sparked more than one argument between me and my sister in our younger years. However, I was in far too good a mood to worry about anything for a while. I peeled off my jacket and decided to go and relax in my room. Maybe I would grab my old acoustic guitar, tune it and play a little, just to see if I still remembered any chords or bits of melodies. I had almost reached the stairs when I heard the bathroom door creak open, but I paid no attention to that--until about two seconds later. "What do you think?" asked a low, masculine voice. Startled, I spun around to see a large, brown-haired man standing in the bathroom doorway. He had to be over six feet tall, considerably taller than me, and had a rugged face. Since he was wearing nothing except for a towel wrapped around his waist to cover his private parts, I could see his muscular hairless chest and arms. He seemed like he had jumped straight out of a women's magazine or a male underwear catalog. I had no idea how somebody like him could have entered the house without anyone noticing. "Surprised, aren't you?" he said with a playful smirk on his rugged face. 'Surprised' was definitely an understatement. I could only stare in shock at this stranger who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "What the hell's going on?" I managed to ask after finally finding the words. "Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in here?" "Easy, bro," the man laughed. "It's only me. Kate." The idea was so preposterous that I would have either laughed or gotten angry, or perhaps even both at the same time, if it hadn't been for my extreme astonishment. "No way in hell! Seriously, who are you? Is this some kind of a sick practical joke? Kate knows I hate it when people play practical jokes on me." "No, I really am your sister," he insisted. "At least, that's who I was and who I'll be again after I take this skinsuit off. At the moment, however, I'm Angel, a vampire with a soul. Remember me?" "What? A vampire?" "Or, more precisely, he's my character. Or even more precisely, he's my character's character. I'm not a real vampire, just a lookalike of the guy who plays the vampire on TV. Get it?" "I can't say I do," I confessed. I couldn't remember having been more dumbstruck in my whole adult life. Now that he had mentioned it, I had to admit he did look a lot like the man who had played the Angel character on the Whedon shows, but that still did not explain why or how he had appeared in our house, who he really was, or what had happened to my sister. Not knowing for certain whether it was a prudent or even a safe thing to do, I slowly turned my back to the man and started walking towards the stairs in hopes of finding the bottle of vodka I had once hidden in my old room in case of emergencies. I needed a stiff drink, and badly. "Where are you going, Mike?" the man inquired. "To call the nearest mental hospital," I replied in a colorless tone of voice without turning to look back. "Or maybe the Sheriff's office. I haven't quite decided yet." "Alright then, I'll remove this skin so you don't have to bother the authorities. Okay?" "Remove yourself from this house, and I'll consider it a deal." Giving me one final smile showing his perfect shiny white teeth, the man went back into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Out of curiosity, I stayed on the first step of the stairs and kept my ears open and my eyes fixed on the door. It would be impossible for the man to leave without me seeing him, and then I would expose this silly little hoax. There was no question in my mind about it: Kate had obviously hired a celebrity lookalike to help her! It wasn't until much later that I realized just how hilariously unlikely that hypothesis was--albeit not as unlikely as the truth turned out to be. After two or perhaps three seemingly eventless minutes my sister stepped out in her underwear. She was holding a peculiar flesh-colored garment in her hands. "Well," I started interrogating her. "Where is he?" "Oh, you mean our friend Angel!" Kate said. "This is him." She held out the mysterious thing she was carrying in front of her, allowing the bundle of cloth to unfold. With a shudder, I quickly realized that it was not a piece of clothing at all but something looking exactly like a flayed human skin (not that I had ever seen one in real life, at least not before this scary incident). The color of the skin was now slightly pale, but otherwise, as far as I could see, it was superficially indistinguishable from living flesh with its realistic texture and all the tiny details. Even though the skin's features were now distorted and flat, it didn't take me long to notice that it bore the likeness of the man I had just met. "Were... were you actually inside that thing?" I asked. "Sure," was Kate's quick answer. "You really thought that was a man, didn't you? I guess I can't blame you for that. I was him, so to speak." "But--how? I mean, you're under five and a half feet tall and he was..." "Six one, and he weighs 195 pounds, according to the bathroom scale; I just checked. So there." "But you don't weigh that much, right?" "Mike! Are you by any chance suggesting I'm fat?" she asked, pretending to be serious. "No, no, no. What I'm saying is that it's impossible, and anyone with more education than kindergarten knows that. You can't double your physical mass with a snap of your fingers. The mass needs to come from somewhere--or the energy that is used to create the mass. And even then, there would be equal amounts of mat---" "Ever the scientist," she snickered, folding the skin up again. "Too bad your mind is never open to any new ideas." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Remember when I asked you if you believed in magic and you said no? It was a month ago. Well, maybe you ought to believe after all. I don't know if it's scientific or not, but the skins do work. You've seen the results yourself. Mandy says--" "Wait a minute," I interrupted her. "Who's Mandy?" "My friend Tina's aunt, Amanda Elkins. Mandy says that when you put a skin on, it rewrites your DNA and everything. You become someone else right down to the molecules and atoms in your body, and the skins kind of fuse with you on atomic level or something like that. I don't know how they do it, and I'm not sure if even Mandy knows, but is it that important? Whatever works, works." "'The skins?' 'They do?' Are you saying there are more of those things?" "Of course. Mandy has a large collection of them, and she's glad to lend us some whenever we feel it's time to arrange a group meeting and play some dress-up again." She couldn't help but let out a little giggle before continuing her explanation. "As long as we use them discreetly and don't tell anyone about them she doesn't mind. Most of the skins are made to look like fictional characters from TV shows and movies and books, but because that means many of them also resemble real life celebrities, it's important not to show them around." "Isn't that illegal?" I wondered. "You can't just steal someone else's looks and identity and then do God knows what with them!" "That's the point, Mike. We don't do 'God knows what' with the skins. They are never worn outdoors, and we take lots of precautions to make sure no one finds out. As long as it's all in good fun with close friends, there's nothing wrong with wearing a skin." "So, you're basically capable of becoming anyone at will?" "If I have the right skin, yes." "And you can take it off whenever you want?" "Yes. Sometimes you can get temporarily stuck in one, especially if you wear a suit that is different sex than you, but Mandy has developed all kinds of handy tricks for surviving such situations. Anyway, the risk is practically non-existent and being somebody else for a day is incredibly refreshing at times. It can really change your whole outlook on life. That may sound corny but it's true." "Does Mandy have a skin of me or you? I wouldn't be very happy if she did, you know." "No. Like I told you, she does fictional characters almost exclusively. What's more, she only loans skins to people she absolutely trusts and considers responsible, not just anybody." "Perhaps so," I said, not even trying to understand anything anymore, and turned to continue on to my room. "Just keep that Angel costume or whatever you call it out of my sight for the remainder of my time here." I had trouble getting sleep the next night. I could only make wild guesses about what had happened in the bathroom when Kate had been transformed by the skinsuit (assuming the whole incident hadn't been an intricate prank after all), but I had a fairly vivid imagination and it was on a roll. I cursed my decision to come here for the holiday and leave the city where I didn't have anything worse than the rent and noisy neighbors to cope with. They were absolutely nothing compared to the revelation that my sister was a human shapeshifter who enjoyed becoming a hunky man every now and then. The thought almost made me feel sick to my stomach. Our precious little Kate, the sweet and smart girl adored by the whole town, was involved in activities so strange and sinister that they didn't even bear thinking about. Who exactly were the people she had referred to as "we"? Her friends? Did our parents know about Kate's new pastime, and if they did, why hadn't they done anything to stop her? On the other hand, I was still anything but convinced that my sister was telling me the truth. I was unable to explain the "skin" or the man, especially since I hadn't seen the latter leave, but Kate's story sounded far too incredible to be taken seriously. Even though someone had once said that extremely advanced technology would seem like magic to those who are unfamiliar with it and the principles it is based on, some things were just plain impossible. Despite all the wild theories and rumors about secret Government facilities and alien influence (Jake's institutionalized uncle could have filled me in on these topics), there was no way anyone on this planet could have invented a thing that was capable of transforming a person into somebody else entirely and violating who knows how many laws of physics in the process. The whole concept of the "skin" as described by Kate was in conflict with common sense. Anyway, it was always fun to give the old brain cells something new to chew on. I promised myself that I would get to the bottom of this and solve the mystery, starting tomorrow. ***** I practically passed out around midnight, having finally spent all my energy, and slept in. When I got my eyes open, I noticed my room was already full of sunlight. Yawning and stretching my arms, I swung my legs out from under the blanket and got on my feet. "Rise and shine, buddy," I chuckled to myself and strolled to the bathroom to start the day. All things considered, I was in a fairly good mood all through my morning routine. I brushed my teeth, took a very quick shower, combed my hair, decided to shave tonight or tomorrow, and finally pulled on fresh underwear and the rest of my clothing. The strange encounter I had had with the large man yesterday evening was still admittedly puzzling me a little, but now it was starting to feel more and more like a dream, and after giving it some more thought I decided to write it off as just that, a vivid dream. It made absolutely no sense, and I had been very tired, so the most probable explanation was that I had imagined the whole thing while actually asleep. The sounds coming from downstairs suggested that the rest of my family had assembled in the kitchen, so I marched down the stairs to join their company. The delicious smell of coffee and toast wafted out to meet me, and suddenly I felt hungry. Indeed, the whole Caldwell family was there: my mother, my father and Kate were all sitting at the kitchen table (where we usually ate when we had no guests), having breakfast. I barely had the time to offer my "good morning" to them before Mom started shoveling bacon and toast onto my plate. These delicacies were complemented by a large mug of hot coffee, and when I took my usual seat opposite Kate and next to Dad, I only needed to dig in. "Thank you very much!" I said to Mom. "And sorry. After all these years, you're still stuck serving your pampered grownup kids." "Don't worry about that, dear," she laughed and sat down as well. "It's so nice to have you guys here, and this is really no trouble at all, believe you me." "Careful what you wish for," Dad commented with a chuckle and sipped his coffee. "We'll never get rid of them if you keep spoiling them like that." Mom and Dad were now both in their mid-to-late sixties and retired. She had been a nurse and he an engineer, and both had had successful if not particularly high-profile careers. They were essentially hard workers and solid middle-class citizens, the kind of people I had grown to admire more and more as I was gradually morphing into a middle-aged, somewhat conservative man myself and leaving the silly idealism of my youth behind for good. Nobody had ever been swimming in money in our household, but Kate and I had at all times been provided with all the necessities of life, and then some. I had always had a loving family, and my relationships with both of my parents never left much to desire. Still, interestingly, Mom and Dad were very different from each other in many respects. In general, she was the more emotional of the two, usually very kind and gentle-- sometimes perhaps even too much so for her own good--but absolutely fierce when overcome by righteous anger. In matters of principle she had a will of iron, and I believed that the streak of characteristic resoluteness (or stubbornness, as many would prefer) in me was inherited from her. It might be quite accurate to say that she did almost everything with her heart fully in it. Dad's approach to life, in contrast, was much cooler and more grounded in logic, at least when taken at face value. He would sit back and make wry comments while others were fussing around, not always overly concerned about other people's feelings as long as he was right--which he often enough was. Of course, he was by no means incapable of emotional behavior, but it tended to come out less often and in a different manner from Mom's. Politically he leaned very slightly to the left, while Mom leaned an equal amount to the right. Because of this and other reasons, they didn't exactly see eye to eye on a number of topics, and so they would occasionally snark at each other until, typically, Mom lost her temper and let him have an earful. But things would soon calm down and they would once more be a loving couple who accepted and lived with their minor differences. Regardless, they had much in common as well. One immediately noticeable point of similarity was that time had been fairly kind to them: both of them could have passed for people five or ten years younger than they actually were, even though neither was usually willing to make large investments, by the standards of their respective sexes, in maintaining their appearances just for the sake of vanity. Mom had a long mane of dark auburn hair, with no faded streaks anywhere to be seen, and while Dad's hair--together with his thin mustache--had gone silvery gray all over, he had a full head of it. They were both still lean and in a reasonably good physical condition for their age. Some back pains and other such nuisances were, naturally, par for the course. Most importantly, they shared a great pride in their children. Even though Mom would express her feelings much more readily than Dad in this respect, too, I knew well that he was just as happy with Kate's achievements and mine as Mom was. "How was the ride from the city?" Dad asked me. "Did your car give any trouble?" "No, it went really smoothly," I replied. "The adjustments seem to have worked, because the engine runs evenly now, hot or cold." "Good to hear." "Yeah, I basically just let the stereo play some music and ride on," I continued. "I'm glad I coughed up the hundred-odd bucks for the new receiver. It accepts a USB memory stick with MP3s, so I can have a playlist of hundreds of songs and avoid having to listen to the shit they pollute the airwaves with." "You could give it a chance," Kate admonished me. "Not all music made in this century sucks, you know." "The vast majority of it does," I argued. "Let other people drown in Taylor Swift and Nicki Minaj and Katy Perry and all that ass vomit. I get to spend my trips in the company of the Stones, CCR, Bowie and any of the other greats." "The Rolling Stones?" Mom said and frowned slightly. "I thought you were a Beatles fan." "Sure I am, but you see, when I'm behind the wheel, it's got to be the Stones all the way." "I'm appalled at your taste," she commented half-seriously. "I never could stand Mick Jagger and that mouth of his. The guy looks like a baboon, and already did back when they first came to the US. Besides, they've got nothing on the Beatles, anyway." "Those are both fantastic bands, only different," I remarked. "I have to say I'm jealous of your generation." "How so?" Dad inquired. "You had all these great things, the Apollo program, positively the best music ever, and you even got to see the Berlin Wall come down later on," I said. "What does my generation get?" "Well, actually--" Kate began, but I cut her off, "Don't you dare answer. It was a rhetorical question!" She merely smiled at this, knowing full well that I was not being all that serious, and took a bite of her sandwich. "How are things back at the University?" Dad asked. "I mostly work from my apartment these days," I said. "More privacy and less commuting." "Oh, I see." "Plus, I'm not too crazy about the atmosphere on the campus these days. It's... I don't know. Somehow I feel I no longer fit in. It seems there's a protest going on at least every other day, and you can't walk five yards without some freak trying to push a ton of flyers to you. I know it's probably even worse on the West coast, but I've had about enough of it. All I want to do is go to work in peace." "Sounds a little like the 60s you are so nostalgic about," Mom injected. "What are they protesting against?" "I don't know, and I don't really care," I said. "The other day I ran into this weirdo with purple hair who was handing out some kind of pamphlets. I'm not sure if that was a man or a woman, or what the hell the person identified as, but I'm guessing he was a man, genetically speaking. He had a really pale face with bulging eyeballs and a bunch of ragged, dirty clothes hanging on a gaunt body, as if he had spent the last ten years chained in somebody's basement without being fed properly. So, I say politely that I'm not interested, but he keeps insisting and trying to push a leaflet to me. I say I'm busy and start to walk, and he walks with me. Finally, I got so fed up that I asked him, 'How long have you been dead, anyway?' That shut the little fucker up." "Mind your language, please," Mom reminded me. "Oh, sorry about that. It's just that sometimes only the four-letter words and their derivatives can adequately convey my deepest feelings towards those..." "What about your thesis?" "It's rather slow going right now, but I think I'm getting there. I have most of the data ready and analyzed, so primarily I'm writing the text and checking references. I try to get at least something done every day." "So," Dad said, "do you kids have any plans for Halloween?" "Like going trick-or-treating?" Kate laughed. "Don't you think we're a little too old for that?" "Mike said he was a little too old for that when he was six," Mom pointed out. "Our little scientist was way too mature to dress up as a ghost." "Yeah, I guess so," I commented. "But I probably missed out on a lot of candy and fun with friends." "Are you two going to parties or something like that this weekend?" Dad asked. "I mean, parties for grownups." "No," Kate said. "I still don't really feel like going out and having fun, not just yet. I thought we could just be together. How about you, Mike?" "That's fine with me," I replied, a little hesitantly. "I don't have any real plans." I had been served another surprise. I was absolutely certain that Kate's talk about the costume party had not been a figment of my imagination, even though it did seem slightly odd to me that she and her friends, a bunch of professional women who had turned 30, would want to arrange a roleplaying event. Maybe she had not mentioned it to our parents for fear of ridicule, I reasoned, or perhaps it had been canceled. If that was the case, I would have to call Jake and tell him the news. Be that as it might, I made a mental note to ask her for a clarification later. The first day of my vacation was thus off to a good start. After finishing breakfast, I went outside for a short walk to get some fresh air, and then helped Dad with changing the oil in his car. While these few hours were not spent very productively, I enjoyed every second away from my tedious research work and the hysterical campus atmosphere. We had dinner together in the early afternoon. Mom had made an enormous amount of food, and the feast was long and merry. I felt especially relieved when I saw Kate in a generally positive mood throughout. With any luck, she was beginning to recuperate in earnest from the mental wounds that Shitbag had inflicted on her and, by extension, on all of us. For a passing moment, my own thoughts were darkened by an almost homicidal anger towards the worthless piece of filth. What he had done to my lovely sister was unforgivable, and I swore silently to myself for at least the twentieth time that if I ever had the opportunity, I would make him pay for it, one way or another. As there was nothing important for me to do, I retired upstairs after dinner and lay down on my bed. A nice little nap was in order now, I thought and stretched my arms and made myself comfortable. I seldom had this luxury in the city: getting to rest in the middle of the day with my stomach full of delicious food. Usually there was little opportunity to rest, and the food I had at the campus or at my apartment was, on a typical day, not exactly the epitome of exquisite cuisine. I had fallen into a state of light sleep when I suddenly thought I could hear a car outside. Somebody opened the front door, and then there were two voices speaking, Kate's and someone else's. Judging by its sound, the latter one belonged to one of her friends. I decided to stay in my room and wait until she would leave. I was far from anxious to meet her, whoever she was. After some five minutes, the door closed again, and the car left. Out of curiosity, I decided to get up and go downstairs to find out what was going on. Kate had just picked up a large brown cardboard box and was about to start carrying it upstairs when I approached her. She was so preoccupied with the box that she couldn't see or hear me coming until I asked her, "Hey, who was that?" She jumped and almost dropped the package. "God, you scared me senseless!" she yelled at me. "Don't you ever do that again! I nearly got a heart attack." "Sorry about that," I said and continued, "Who was it?" "Oh, just Tina," she explained with pretended nonchalance. "She brought me something." "What is it?" I inquired. "Is it in that box?" "Well... yeah." "Come on, what is it?" "I'm not telling you. It's a surprise, and nobody's to touch it but me." "Alright, who is it for, then?" "You'll see. Now, scram!" Whatever the box contained, it apparently was not very heavy, as she lifted it on her shoulder without too much trouble and started ascending the stairs with a determined look on her face. For a second, I wondered what this was all about, tempted to demand a proper explanation from her, but just then the home phone--the trusty old landline phone, that is--suddenly rang. It had to be one of our many annoying distant relatives, since in this wireless age almost everybody else called us directly on our cell phones. I walked to the phone, picked up the horn somewhat absentmindedly and uttered my name. "Hi, Mike," greeted an unknown person on the other end of the line. The caller was definitely a woman, most likely a young one, but that was pretty much all I could discern right there and then. She certainly wasn't any of the relatives I could think of offhand. "Who is this?" I asked. An awkward silence followed my question. The female had probably assumed that I would recognize her voice instantly, and she was clearly puzzled now because I had failed to do that. I already feared she might make me start guessing who she was for her amusement when she suddenly spoke again--or at least tried to speak. "Um... Ah, this is... um, a friend of Jake White's. You know him?" "Yes, I do," I replied. This was getting interesting. I hadn't known Jake had a girlfriend, or even a plain female friend I hadn't heard anything about until now. To my knowledge, my sister and her friend Sammy were pretty much the only girls outside of his extended family that he usually socialized with; and to Jake, even Sammy was more of an acquaintance than a close friend. "Jake has a message for you." "Fine, let's hear it." "The roof is on fire." "What?" "Look, I'm serious. The roof is on fire! They'll be coming for you, man." "Is this some sort of a game?" I inquired and wondered how Jake had gotten an unknown girl to play along with his little joke. "You see, if it is, I don't know the rules. Just say what you have to say and stop fooling around." "Red alert, Mike." "Okay, so you have a red alert, your roof is on fire, I am the walrus and I buried Paul." "Goddammit, Mike!" she spat out impatiently. "Run while you still can, get out of town! We're in deep shit!" The sound of a door closing could be heard in the background. The caller was clearly alerted by it, and she said quickly, "Got to hang up. Bye!" Without any further explanation she ended the conversation and then the call. "Now that was odd," I said to myself, returning to the table after having put the phone down. "The whole town has gone insane while I was away." All of a sudden, an excited Kate burst into the room and announced, "Alright. Time to try out your costume!" "Wait, what? My costume?" "For the Halloween party, remember?" "I thought the party was off," I said. "What do you mean, off?" she inquired. "Who told you so? No way, it's most definitely on. Let's go!" She almost ran up the stairs to my room while I followed more slowly, not being all that enthusiastic about the whole thing. I didn't quite know what to expect; I was still hoping she might just have me wear a "moth-eaten old cloak", as Jake had put it, but then there were other possibilities as well. On the off chance that the Angel encounter had actually been real, I thought, maybe that skinsuit was meant for me. This idea, although fascinating in some weird sense, was also very unsettling. What if the skin actually worked as advertised? What would it do to me? And if it didn't work, who would like to be stuck inside some sort of a rubber costume all night long? That was much too kinky for me. Hence I had plenty of reasons to look forward to the cloak option. However, that was not to be, as I realized when I walked into my room. There was a skin-colored object sprawled on my bed. At first glance, it had looked like an indistinct piece of cloth, but a closer look sent chills down my spine: it had flat but unmistakably human features, a face, a pair of breasts, female genitalia, even a mane of long blond hair. It seemed uncannily as if someone had neatly and very carefully removed all the innards of a young woman and left her empty husk on my bed, where it now lay like a deflated sex doll. This suit was exactly like the one Kate had shown me last night, only of a different character, and I had no problem at all recognizing her. "Jesus H. Christ!" I breathed and almost shivered at the nightmarish sight. "What is this Ed Gein shit!?" Smiling widely, Kate pointed at the skin and said, "There it is, your costume! Pretty cool, huh?" "What's that supposed to mean?'" I asked, trying to play dumb and hide my nervousness and disgust with feigned annoyance. "Someone's made a mistake here. That's..." "Yes, the heroine herself," Kate completed my sentence. "Soon to be you, or actually, you're soon to be her. Right, anyway, you can try her on now." "Are you insane?" I exclaimed. "No fucking way! I will not put that-- that thing on!" "Why not?" Kate asked with a devilish little smile. "I'm sure you have always wanted to try being a girl. Or... is it that you're not secure enough about your masculinity to give it a shot? He he hee, I totally forgot--as if you had any!" "Giggle all you want," I said. "I'm not wearing that... whatever it is! And take it the hell away from my room! Damn!" With that, I turned around and marched downstairs. Kate followed me all the way back to the living room, where I sat in one of the armchairs, pretending to read yesterday's newspaper. She pleaded, "Come on! It's really not that bad, promise! Besides, all the other guys are going to go as girls too." "Even Jake?" I asked in an amused tone of voice. "Even Jake," Kate confirmed. "And the girls go as guys. Everyone has a skinsuit." "That'll be the day," I said, laughing out loud. "No force in this world can make Jake wear anything that's even remotely feminine. I mean, imagine it! The guy weighs something like 220 pounds, if not more, and has a long beard which he will not let anyone touch. Even if somebody had the ability to make him look like a woman, they would have to sedate him first." "Maybe," Kate mused. "Maybe not. The skinsuits can do wonders, as you've seen. You may not recognize Jake when you see him next time." "Fine, whatever. So, please, can we just drop this joke already? I know the suit's made of rubber or silicone or something, and once I put it on, you come in and take pictures of me for fun. Look, I don't want to spoil that for you, but enough is enough. This stuff is just a little too perverted for my taste." "No, Mike. The suit works, and it's not rubber. I promise." "Yeah, I bet. And pigs can fly." "Please, at least try it on, will you? If you're certain it doesn't work, then it can't do you any harm, right? I help you take it off if nothing happens, and I won't take embarrassing pictures of you. In that case, you don't have to wear it to the party either." I didn't answer at first, and the pestering went on for a while. Kate had always known which strings to pull when it came to persuading me. Besides, she was right to assume that I still didn't actually believe the suits could cause a real transformation. Maybe this was the right way to deal with the issue, I thought; I'd put the stupid thing on, nothing would happen, and Kate would eventually admit her prank. Then we would go to the party dressed in more conventional costumes, I would have fun and get drunk. Finally, after thinking about it for a minute or two, I gave in and declared, "Fine. If it makes you happy, I'll try the skin on, but you definitely owe me one for this." That turned out to be an incredibly thoughtless decision. I should have been more suspicious and I should have asked her more questions about the skins, but instead, for reasons I myself have trouble understanding, I simply let her talk me into wearing a skinsuit. If I had known then what I know now, I would have absolutely refused, no matter what. Then again, that might not really have changed anything in the long run. Kate beamed as she led me to my room again and handed me the suit. I was hesitant to touch it at first, but Kate simply picked it up and pushed it to me. It felt very soft and smooth to my fingertips, cooler than real living skin but otherwise quite similar. To my surprise, it was a lot lighter than I had assumed; the weight was comparable to that of something made of thin cloth rather than rubber. In addition to this fact, the smell of latex or some other rubber-like material was also completely absent as far as I could tell. The skin didn't really smell of anything. This was a small relief as I absolutely loathed the stench of latex. Still, looking at the stunningly realistic features of the suit--especially the genitals--made me feel uneasy, to say the least. However, this superficial examination had all but convinced me that it was not anyone's real skin, so I could take some slight consolation in that knowledge. "Now," Kate explained, "you have to strip naked. Since I'm not interested in watching the show, I suggest you go to the bathroom with the skin and change there." "How do I do that?" "It's simple. You take off all your clothes--and I do mean all of them, socks and boxers included. Then you just step into the skin through the back one leg at a time, and when the toes and feet are in place, you pull it up to your waist. Then I'll come and help you with the rest of the process. Okay?" "Won't the skin tear? I mean, it's clearly too small for a man like me." "Don't worry, it stretches a lot. One size fits all. Now, get on with it! We don't have all day." I obediently snuck to the upstairs bathroom with the skin, laid it on the floor and stripped as per Kate's instructions. When that was all done, I picked the skin up and held it in front of me. It still seemed much too small to fit me. For a moment, I seriously considered aborting this weird experiment and backing out of the deal. The idea of pulling on a disguise like that was, in and of itself, deviant enough to give me pause, but there seemed to be something more than that to the situation, something very sinister and unexplained. My instincts were warning me against wearing the skin. When I attempted to reassure myself by thinking that scientifically and logically there was absolutely no way the skin could do anything to me, the warnings only seemed to grow louder. Finally I made another questionable decision and just ignored them. I turned the skinsuit around and put my left leg inside the skin through the split opening in the back of the suit. The upper torso, the slender empty arms and head with its attached hair hung loose in front of me. The material resisted a little, but as it turned out, Kate had been right about it being very elastic. It was a surprisingly easy job to slide the toes and the foot in place, and then I did the same with my right leg, soon bringing the suit up to my knees. The inside of the suit was similar to the outside according to my initial sensations. It was of a slightly darker color but just as cool and soft, altogether very comfortable against my bare skin. In some strange way, the bodysuit felt more natural to wear than most clothes. "...or else it gets the hose again," I said to myself and took a deep breath. If this was another dream, it certainly felt disturbingly real, down to the tiniest detail. As it happened, one detail had to be dealt with immediately. My manhood had stirred a little, which made the next step slightly awkward. I had to tuck the thing away somehow, and I began to examine the crotch of the skin for some kind of pouch or pocket and perhaps an opening which would allow me to relieve myself in case I had to spend several hours in costume. However, I couldn't find anything. The vulva of the suit, while seemingly as realistic as it could get, clearly imitated the mere external appearance of the female organ; apparently there was not even a hole in it. Not very keen to look further into the matter, I pulled the suit to my waist, cursing to myself. The crotch had an ugly bulge now, but there was little I could do about it. "You can come in," I called. Right away, Kate entered the room. To my delight, she refrained from making any witty comments about my state and started to help me with the costume. "Jeez, Mike," Kate exclaimed half jokingly, "shave your back every once in a while! You don't have body hair--it's fur!" "I need it to keep warm. Besides, if I ever start to go bald, I can have some of the skin from my back transplanted on my head, and I'm set." In a few moments, I was up to my neck in the costume. The hands and arms were actually even easier to put in place than the feet and legs. It was almost as though they had a thin layer of some lubricating substance on their inner surface. Kate stretched the flaps of the back opening so that they met and then ran the palm of her hand along my spine, closing the suit. Apparently there was no zipper, Velcro patches or anything like that; the parts of the skin just seemed to fuse together seamlessly. "Right!" Kate said. "And now..." She lifted up the headpiece which had been hanging limply on the chest and pulled it over my head in one swift motion. It took some fussing before all the features were approximately in place--my eyes at the eyeholes, my lips where the mouth of the mask was, my nose inside the hollow one of the costume. The headpiece, even though it wasn't nearly as tight as I had expected, impaired both my vision and my hearing as it was clearly meant for someone with a much smaller head. Still, at least I could breathe easily through the nose, so there was no immediate danger of suffocation. As soon as the suit was fully on me, Kate started pressing the small remaining part of the opening shut with her fingers. When she reached the nape of my neck, I was finally completely enclosed in the skin. "Whatever happens," she said, "remember this. Don't panic or try to resist the transformation. Stay calm, breathe normally and wait for the skin to do its magic. You'll be fine." "Okay," I mumbled. Nothing at all seemed to happen at first. I had ample time to take a long look in the mirror, and what I saw there was weird and simultaneously bordering on comical. The fit was somewhat tight as was to be expected, and the features of the bizarre costume were all stretched out of proportion. I couldn't see very well through the eyeholes since my eyes were too far apart. While the skin was indeed anatomically correct, it required someone equally correct to wear it; it had done little to hide my muscles and bulky bones, which were too large, or my fat, which was in all the wrong places. The pair of "breasts" hanging down from the chest looked and felt like two empty balloons, and my manhood still made the crotch bulge. The only thing that this outfit had gotten about right was the hair. Overall, the creature in the mirror reminded me of a ridiculous monster from some cheap horror film. It had to be clear by now that the skinsuit did not work on me. I was about to ask Kate to help me take it off, and I also planned on gloating a little afterwards because her experiment had failed, but before I could do any of that I started to feel my toes itching. The itch soon turned into a peculiar warm numbness that began to spread quickly into my feet and then up my legs. In a few seconds it flowed through my torso, finally reaching my scalp and fingertips. Oddly enough, the numbness was somehow soothing. Even though I was definitely scared and surprised, the sensation itself was not unpleasant at all. However, what came next was much more frightening. I attempted to move my arms only to realize that I had apparently been paralyzed. The muscles did nothing in response. As if that weren't bad enough, my vision blurred until I was nearly blind. Kate, the mirror and the rest of the bathroom seemed to disappear in thick gray fog that covered everything. I could still discern light from darkness, but little else. Kate spoke, trying to tell me something, but I couldn't make out any words since the sound came through muffled and distorted. For a period of time that probably lasted only a few seconds but seemed like hours, I was completely cut off from the outside world. The only sound I could hear clearly was my own rapid heartbeat echoing in my ears. If it hadn't been there, I would have had almost no proof whatsoever that I still had a physical body. I felt a mad panic growing in my mind, and it soon was close to the point where I would lose all control over my own actions. Just when I thought I was going to go mad, the dreadful sensory deprivation seemed to give way. The numbness left my body as fast as it had come, and to my surprise I could suddenly feel with my skin again, but now there was absolutely nothing on it, except air. My brain, having temporarily been almost disconnected from my body, was once more receiving information from the tactile nerves, but some of their messages were utterly incomprehensible. There was now a peculiar weight on my chest, another weight pulling on my scalp, and something else as well, something that was simultaneously too ridiculous and too horrifying to take seriously... Then my eyes refocused. It didn't take me long to realize I could see as clearly as before--or actually, better than before. Being somewhat nearsighted, I was barely qualified to drive a car without wearing glasses, but now my vision was sharper than ever. I had no time to enjoy this marvelous discovery, though; the image in the mirror, right in front of me, caught my undivided attention the instant I first saw it. The silly looking monster was gone, and in its place there was a beautiful, petite blond girl or young woman. The illusion, if that is what it was, was perfect in every way: as far as I could tell, the girl had a trim but feminine body, graceful legs and arms, a shaven crotch, a pair of nicely formed, not overly large but perky and firm breasts, and a face that was immediately recognizable to millions of people. She was not wearing any makeup, but her beauty was simply captivating nonetheless. I was staring at her with my mouth open, and she was staring back in the exact same way. "What the---?" I started but covered my mouth with my hand in shock. I had spoken the words, that much was certain, but the voice was not mine. It was a girl's, a lot higher-pitched and more melodious than the one I had gotten used to--and the hand was a girl's too, tiny and delicate with thin fingers. "Yay!" Kate said excitedly. "You came out really nicely!" It was then that the realization finally hit me with full force. The girl in the mirror was me. Suddenly I felt light-headed, and my knees almost buckled. In an effort not to collapse on the floor, I leaned against the sink and tried to stand still with my eyes closed, fighting a complete blackout. Good God, I thought, how could this be? Kate's skinsuit had made me into a flesh-and-blood replica of a TV character, and a female one at that, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The laws of physics had been momentarily overturned, common sense had left the building, and here I was, inhabiting someone else's body! "Are you alright?" Kate asked in a concerned voice. "Um... I don't know," I muttered quietly. "I guess." The most unnerving observation of all was the odd flatness of my new crotch, and even though I hoped my penis would still be in existence, only concealed in some pocket deep inside the suit, I instinctively knew that was not the case. There was no longer the sensation of my genitals packed uncomfortably within the weird suit, but instead a strange warm hollowness, something no man had ever experienced. I had been turned into a young woman, inside and out--no matter that it was plainly impossible. Kate hovered next to me, with a wide smile on her face. As I turned towards her, I noticed she had grown and was suddenly at least as tall as me, maybe even an inch or so taller. Everything in the room and the room itself also appeared to have increased in size, so the only logical explanation was that it had been me who had shrunk and not the other way around, another sheer impossibility. "So, what do you think about the suit?" she asked me. "Do you believe me now, Mike?" "Yes. Yes, I do, absolutely and wholeheartedly," I said quickly. Again, it felt indescribably weird to try to talk as usual and have all the words come out in a stranger's voice. "I was wrong and you were right. So, I'm ready to shed it. Please?" "Oh, no no no, Mike. The skin stays on you until the party's over." "What!?" I screamed, involuntarily in an ear-piercing falsetto. "That's three whole days! There's no way---" "Yes, you will wear it. End of story. The girls and I thought it was best to give you some time to get into character, if you pardon the pun. You know, to learn a few things about being Buffy and a girl in general. We'll start your training right away." "No, we won't!" I protested. Taking me by one of my new little hands, Kate almost dragged me out of the bathroom and into her own room. These were my first steps as a woman, and they demonstrated to me how incredibly light, small and nimble I had become. Suddenly everything around me seemed huge, and I was certain that if I had gone outside, the slightest breeze of wind would have been enough to lift me off the ground. In addition to that, I had also realized I was naked and tried in vain to cover my new private parts. Somebody, probably Kate herself, had placed a few items of clothing on the bed, and she went on to pick up a pair of white cotton panties, handing them to me. "No," I resisted. "Yes," she said firmly. She had made it clear that I had no choice in the matter, and so I reluctantly stepped into the panties and pulled them up my small hairless legs. They were made of a soft, comfortable material and fit well. Still, even in this state, I would have preferred my own boxers. The decidedly feminine piece of clothing hardly alleviated my acute embarrassment. Next came the bra. Kate told me to raise my arms, and then she slipped the garment on me, fussed for a while with the cups adjusting the fit, and finally closed the clasp behind my back. "How does that feel?" she asked. "Too tight? Too loose?" I couldn't answer since I had never worn a bra before and had no idea how it was supposed to feel. The globes of flesh rested snugly inside the cups which pushed them up and supported them, but on the other hand, the lift effect made the breasts seem considerably bigger than before. Unlike most women, I didn't find the result appealing. "You'll have to learn how to take it off and put it on again," Kate announced. "Every girl has to be able to do that, if nothing else." "I'm not a girl," I said through gritted teeth. "So I see," she said and chuckled. "That's a joke. Anyway, I wish I had boobs like those. They're just the right size and shape. Perfect." "You want them?" I asked. "You can have them. In fact, I think you should take them immediately, and the rest of this body as well. I've had enough." "That's another thing you're wrong about," she corrected and smiled slyly. "We've only just begun." "Oh, please!" I pleaded from the bottom of my heart. "Can't we change this plan so that you go as Buffy and I go as some guy? That would be so much easier for both of us. We wouldn't have to tell anyone about the switch." "No, Mike. The girls go as guys and the guys go as girls. That's the deal, and we're sticking to it. The whole point of this is gaining new experiences and breaking down barriers, not everything being easy. You'll thank me when you're having the time of your life at the party." "I doubt that. You're doing this for fun, aren't you? Do you get a kick out of transforming me into a woman?" "You bet! It's going to be pretty funny and sweet to see you wearing those clothes, doing your makeup, going to bed in a frilly nightgown, brushing---" "Come on!" "Okay, fine, so there is a fun factor involved, but it's not only that. Being a girl for a few days will do you good. You'll get to experience first hand how the other half lives. Maybe you'll appreciate us a bit more after you become a man again." After throwing me a pair of white socks, she continued, "Be glad that I'm the one teaching you instead of Tina. She kind of likes to be the boss. She's mostly a pretty nice person but she can have trouble trusting guys sometimes." "Tina Mills? The one of your friends who has the looks, the grace and the subtlety of a 60-ton main battle tank?" "That's a pretty offensive way to put it, but yes, she's the one." "What's her beef with men?" "Her dad, I've heard. He is--or was, until he left when she was around ten or eleven--a total jerk, beating up his wife and doing other nasty things like that. Tina hated him so much that she arranged for her mom to change her surname to her mom's maiden name before she started high school because she felt tainted by having anything in common with her dad. Now she thinks that men in general need to be kept at bay, if you know what I mean." "She's not from around these parts, is she?" "No, actually. She moved in from Nebraska with her sister some three years ago. I think her hometown was called Warburton. Why do you ask?" "Just being curious." "Well, now that your curiosity has been satisfied, let's move on. This is next." Kate handed me a white t-shirt and then a pair of blue jeans. The clothes seemed much too small but turned out to fit my new body, albeit they were a little on the tight side. The outfit was completed with Kate's old sneakers, and when I finally had them on, she proceeded to brush my hair and then tie it up in a loose ponytail. "There!" she said, taking a good look at her creation and smiling happily. "Not bad, huh?" "'Bad' is precisely the right word," I commented. "Don't worry, Mike," she comforted me, deliberately misunderstanding my words. "That's only the casual you. I know the look is tomboyish and it doesn't do your new body justice, but it's a decent start. I chose it because I figured you want some time to adjust. Sort of a soft landing, you see." "Great. Thanks ever so much for your concern, Kate." "We'll try other styles later, and when the party comes along, I'll give you a makeover and turn you into something really hot. You can count on that. Oh yeah, by the way, I guess I can't call you Mike anymore. That name doesn't suit a glamorous girl like you at all. You're Buffy Anne Summers from this point on." "No, I'm not." "Jeez, do you have to talk back all the time? This is not going to work unless you start to cooperate." "Fine," I said as firmly as I could, crossing my arms beneath my breasts. "Maybe I don't want it to work, and maybe I don't want to come to your sick little party after all." "We're going," Kate declared. "You had better get used to it and lose that childish attitude. If it turns out you can't behave, I'll have you wear that skin until you can. Mandy told us that there's no hurry to return it, so I just might see it fit to keep you in it for... a month, maybe two. How does that sound, Buffy?" She emphasized the last word, knowing full well that the name annoyed me immensely. In all likelihood she was not actually being serious with her threat, considering the realities of our lives, but in any case she made it clear that she had the upper hand now, and I simply had to swallow my pride and do as I was told. I let out an exasperated sigh, which Kate interpreted as a sign of capitulation, and when she next spoke, the tone of her voice was once again that of a little girl who couldn't hide her excitement at having a new sister. "That's better! Now, you can spend the next couple of hours breaking in your new physical form. Just hang around and get used to the sensations and movements of a female body. However, since you were a man just ten minutes ago and therefore capable of thinking only about sex, I need to lay down the law. House rule number one: no feeling yourself up in plain sight." "How perverted do you think I am?" I asked her. "Pretty perverted," she answered with a smile. "Like I said, you still have the mind of a guy, so that's a given. Anyway, if the itch gets too hard to resist, go to the bathroom or wait until you're alone in your bed before you start pleasuring yourself. And absolutely no getting creative with household items, you hear me? Cucumbers and bananas are for eating and candles are for burning." As I felt a deep blush creep all over my face, Kate burst out in laughter. Still giggling, she left the room, probably to call her friends, tell them all about my reactions and laugh some more, I thought and wished I could get a ride out of this solar system. I would imagine that there are probably a lot of people who could come up with dozens of interesting and fun things to do if they suddenly found themselves transformed into a member of the opposite sex and another person entirely. They'd seize the opportunity to gain new experiences and widen their mental horizons. However, I was definitely not one of those people. The first thing I did in my new body, after having it clothed, was to trudge downstairs and slump down on the living room couch. Then I turned the TV on. I flipped aimlessly through the channels, always stopping to watch whatever was on for a short while and then hitting the remote again. I caught glimpses of a weather forecast, a news flash, some old sitcom rerun, a football game, and loads of commercials, none of them relevant to me in any way. It didn't matter, though--I needed to organize my confused thoughts somehow, and concentrating on this stream of random images and sounds seemed to help. The body I now inhabited felt strange in every sense of the word. The anatomy was different (certain sensations kept driving home this point), the dimensions such as my height were all different and wrong, and the world looked different through my new eyes. Even when I was sitting still, I felt light as a feather after having lost about half of my weight. One look in a mirror would have sufficed to prove that I no longer looked anything like my true self. While I was still the same person underneath, no one else would have been able to recognize me. This was all so unreal, so far outside the realm of normal human experience, that a big part of my mind flat out refused to accept it as true. I almost felt like a passenger in my body, or perhaps an actor in a play, and I had to remind myself every couple of seconds that I was actually awake and fully conscious instead of being immersed in a strange dream. My stomach rumbled and suddenly I came to think about the changes that had taken place inside of me. I had seen I had at least the external parts of the female organs, so chances were I also had everything else to go with them, ovaries, a womb, and the rest. The mental image of my guts shifting and transforming made me feel sick, so much so that for a moment I was mere seconds away from vomiting on the floor. I eventually found the strength to control myself and save Mom's favorite carpet from a grisly fate, but my need to get out of the female body was now close to unbearable. It was like a straitjacket I had been forced to wear. It took me a while and a considerable amount of willpower to calm down somewhat and continue watching TV. I now tried to move as little as possible. I didn't want to cause my breasts to shift inside the bra cups, my fingers to make contact with my thigh, my hair to tickle my neck, or my panties to rub against my crotch--this way I could at least pretend I hadn't changed so much. I already knew that I would need lots of time to get used to living like this. Thanks to the unexpected nausea attack, the dreamlike feeling was all but gone, and I already missed it. "Legs together," Kate said. She had returned downstairs after having made her call or done whatever she had gone upstairs for. "Huh?" "Legs together!" she repeated, walked next to me and gently pushed my knees against each other. "Don't you know how women are supposed to sit?" "This is ridiculous," I complained. "Can't I even watch TV in peace?" "Sure you can, Buffy, but--" "And don't call me Buffy!" I snapped. "--it's best that you start getting used to certain little things from now on," Kate continued. She pretended to be completely oblivious to my reaction to my new name. "It's the details that matter, like keeping your legs neatly together. You have a lot to learn, but that's alright. We still have time left." "May it pass quickly." "In the end, you'll see it passes way too quickly. When Saturday comes, you have to make not only a convincing girl, but also a convincing Buffy Summers. That's a lot to deal with." "Well, isn't this--" I was about to start arguing in earnest when I suddenly heard a car outside. It was Mom; it had to be. She had come home from work and was going to come in any second now. My first reaction was to run away, but Kate pushed me back down when I tried to stand up and said, "Everything's alright, trust me. She knows about your costume and won't spill the news to anyone." "Intercourse the costume!" I exclaimed. "I will not be seen like this, not now, not ever. Not by family members, not by---" "Anyone home?" Mom called out from the foyer. "We're here," Kate responded and got up to greet Mom. As soon as she had exited the room, I stood up and scurried to the guest room, attempting to delay the inevitable. "Hey, Mom, would you like to meet your new daughter?" I heard my sister ask. "She's right here... Oh, wait just a second!" Of course, I had nowhere to run, and I could only submit as Kate came for me, grabbed my hand and led me back to the living room. "Please, no!" I tried to protest but Kate just smiled and kept going. She didn't have to use all her strength because I felt too weak and light to fight back effectively and hence put up little more than token physical resistance. In the other room, my Mom was waiting with her overcoat still on. As soon as she saw us, she paled, her eyes went wide, and she gasped loudly. I, for my part, blushed furiously and wished that the earth could open up and swallow me on the spot. "Oh... my... God!" Mom stammered. "Is that... is that Mike? It can't be!" "But it is," Kate declared triumphantly. "The real deal, Mom. However, for the time being, we would both appreciate it if you could call her Buffy." "The hell we would," I heard myself say. "Mind your language, sis," Kate chastised me and continued, "I told you those skins work on him as well, and here's the proof." "Oh my," Mom gushed and approached me slowly, as if trying to ascertain I was a real person and not a mere illusion. She raised her hand and gently touched my left cheek with her fingertips. "I mean... I have seen you wear one before, Kate, but this... It's just unbelievable! Mike, is that really you in there?" "Yeah," I replied, blushing again. "My sweet dear boy, what has she done to you?" Apparently messed my mind and my body up for the rest of my life, I thought but decided to remain quiet. "It can be easily undone," Kate explained. "All we need to do to restore Mike's own form is unlock the skin. Piece of cake. After that, he's back with us in less than five minutes. It can't go wrong." "Sure," I commented in a sarcastic tone of voice. "And the Titanic couldn't sink." "Don't upset your mother," Kate commanded. "I think you should help him out of the skin now," Mom told her. "The party's still three days away. He can't possibly stay in costume all that time, can he?" "Sure he can," Kate said nonchalantly. "In fact, he needs to. How can he act the part if he doesn't have any idea of what being a girl is like? Besides, I have to teach him everything about the exciting world of Buffy, and it's easier if he stays in the skin. At least that keeps him from running off to the city." "Fine," Mom sighed but went on to add quite sternly, "Remember, Kate, that you are responsible for all this. I don't want you to do anything irreversible to Mike, understand? What's more, if he absolutely wants to change back at some point, you'll do as he asks you to. Otherwise you're in trouble up to your neck." The lecture was fairly unusual even if basically in character for Mom, who went to take off her coat and then change into casual clothes. I considered the whole incident a small victory for myself and stuck out my tongue at Kate, who promptly commented, "Oh, that's right, honey dear. That gesture just made you fourteen per cent more feminine. Keep up the good work, sweetie." It was a little past 11 o'clock when my bedtime came. I had washed up and changed into Kate's old off-white silk pajamas, having been too tired to argue about clothes. The silk was actually quite soft and comfortable against my bare skin, but as with the other outfits I had been made to wear that day, I would have preferred something a little less comfy and a little more masculine. Kate had put me through a light aerobic exercise ("It's not easy to keep a figure like yours"), given me a quick lesson on feminine body movements and sitting down properly ("For the last time, legs together, damn it!"), shown me the basics of skin care ("Moisturize daily and exfoliate once a week") and made lots of fun of me on the side. Even though my normal daily cycle was so out of synchronization with the rest of humanity that I rarely began to feel sleepy until long past midnight, I didn't object at all when Kate told me that we would call it a night. "If you need me," she said as I climbed into my bed, "you can wake me up at any time. And if you use the toilet, don't forget to sit down." "I'll try to remember that." "Alright. Good night, sis." "Night." Kate turned around at the door, switched the lights off and added with a smirk, "Good night, sleep tight, beware of vampire bite!" "Get lost!" I mumbled. My sister went back to the upstairs bathroom to wash up and I was left alone in my quiet, semi-dark room. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling just like I had done countless times before when trying to catch sleep. Now that there were few stimuli for my other senses, my sense of touch seemed to become a lot sharper; suddenly my new breasts felt as if they weighed a ton each, my hair was constantly either getting stuck underneath me or spilled all over my face whenever I turned my head, and my smooth skin again tickled all over. The strange sensations coming from my groin were the worst, though. There was a slight itch of some kind, but I had decided not to touch myself there unless it turned out to be absolutely necessary for some reason. I did not want to be seduced by this body. Although the thought of giving female masturbation a try was fascinating in a certain way, it also scared me. It simply seemed wrong even to consider seriously. I was not very tired physically, but mentally I was exhausted after that day. I didn't have the energy to work myself into a frenzy again, and soon I could feel my eyes closing. In a few moments I drifted into sleep. It felt heavenly to forget all about that strange day and let my mind go blank. The next thing I remember is a nice dream with myself, Charlie and Jake sitting on a brick wall of some sort on a warm and sunny summer day. Charlie was telling a joke; I can't recall it, but it was a good one and I laughed, as did Jake. At some point I realized that I was having a dream and that waking up was only minutes away, but I wanted to prolong this soothing state of consciousness and refused to open my eyes. Everything around me was soft and warm. As the dream started to fade away, I could feel my scrotum itching, as it usually did in the morning. Having immediately decided to attend to the problem, I slid my hand into what I thought were my usual boxers-- and was puzzled to realize that I was wearing full silk pajamas instead. At any rate, I was still too sleepy to pay this discrepancy much attention and so I just continued probing for my family jewels with my fingers. Instead of finding them, however, I suddenly felt the tip of my index finger touch a lip of flesh and then slide past it into something tight, warm and slightly moist; and that something wasted no time in sending an odd shiver through my entire body. I jolted up in my bed and pulled my hand quickly away from my pants. My eyes flew open but I couldn't see anything because there was a mass of hair in front of my face. I could barely hold back a terrified scream. Then I began to remember the previous day; the phone call, the skinsuit, the transformation and everything else. "Oh shit!" I groaned. "It did happen after all!" It was my intention to go back to that lovely sleep and enjoy it for a few more hours, but first I had some cleaning up to do. I didn't want to touch anything with the finger that had made contact with my brand new feminine parts, so I padded to the upstairs bathroom, holding my right hand in front of me to avoid touching anything with it until I could clean it up. I neglected to close the bathroom door, and of course, Kate came up the stairs just as I was in the process of washing my hands. Smiling happily, she said, "Good morning, Buffy! Nice to see you up this early. We have a long day ahead of us, as I'm sure you know." "Don't call me Buffy," I grunted. "What's up?" Kate asked, and then suddenly brightened up. "Oh, I see! But of course!" "What?" I asked in reply. "What do you mean?" "You're scrubbing your hands intensely right after getting out of bed. It doesn't take a genius to figure that one out." "No," I corrected her. "It's nothing like that." Kate was clearly enjoying this, and she didn't even bother to try to hide it. Still smiling, she prodded, "Was it fun? What did you fantasize about? And who? Come on, you can tell me!" "For God's sake!" I yelled angrily. "I'm not that perverted!" My little outburst didn't faze her in the slightest. While I was toweling my hands, she continued, "You know, Buffy, it's not radioactive or anything." "What?" "Your vagina, obviously. There's nothing wrong with you getting to know your new body. It's actually something Mandy even recommends that we should do when we wear the skins." I was going to keep trying to convince her that I had not been masturbating--even if it wouldn't do any good, it was a matter of principle for me now--but the comment concerning Mandy distracted me. The woman was evidently even crazier or at least kinkier than I had realized. I couldn't help but bring the issue up. "So, Mandy tells people who wear these things to jerk off regularly? What's her great idea, some kind of sexual liberation?" "No, no, no," Kate corrected me. "Like I said, you should get to know who and what you are now, whatever that might be. Your mental picture of this female form can't be complete until you control your body in every way, and that naturally includes sex. You shouldn't overlook something that important." "As if I didn't already have enough ugly mental pictures, both complete and incomplete, to make me a raving lunatic for the rest of my life. And I wasn't fingering myself!" "Oh, sure you weren't," she said in a sarcastic tone. "Anyway, I'll lay some clothes on the railing for you to put on after you have washed your face and teeth. Meet me downstairs when you're ready." With that, she left the room, much to my relief. As I picked up my toothbrush, I hoped silently that my next conversation with Kate would revolve around something other than this. However, I knew perfectly well that my dignity--and not to mention the pitiful remains of my masculinity--would be impugned many more times before I would be clear of this mess. I could only grin and bear. On the bright side, things could have been worse; judging by what Kate had told me earlier (both yesterday and before that), I was lucky not to have the sadistic man- hater Tina as my mentor. The mere thought of her kicking me around made me shiver. She would have been tough to handle in any situation, but now that I was apparently much smaller and weaker than usual, I would have had no chance at all to stand up for myself. I like to take my time washing up, and that morning was no exception. I had the chance to be alone with my thoughts for a moment, and I was planning to enjoy every second. I absolutely needed an explanation for this whole bizarre experience before I could even contemplate what to do next, and Kate would probably make sure I would be too busy to think at all until my next bedtime. Seeing the beautiful blond girl in the mirror defied logic and common sense. She was me; there was no denying that. Regardless of the physical transformation, I still had all my memories (or at least the important ones, anyway), and my personality along with my cognitive abilities seemed to be intact, but my body evidently was not. How could this be? The skinsuit had to have transformed my brain along with every other organ in my body, and there were probably numerous reasons why this was absolutely necessary--my old brain would hardly even have fit inside my new skull. Was this finally proof that the human essence was, at the end of the day, independent of the body, or that consciousness could be transplanted from one body into another? Perhaps the skins had some sort of an incredibly powerful and pretty much lossless built-in data collection and transfer mechanism that might as well have been magical, as far as our level of knowledge was concerned. The physical transformation itself was no mean feat, either. Maybe this just goes to show much of a geek I was, but at that point I was genuinely interested to know how exactly the skin worked. It had made a good deal of mass disappear, apparently into thin air. If the mass deficit had become pure energy, it should have blasted the entire state off the map immediately, and, besides, how could the process work in reverse? All this was totally inexplicable from a scientific viewpoint, but it was even harder to think of a way for the suit to keep track of every single molecule in the wearer's body. How did it know what to put where, and how did it actually accomplish that? Just pondering about that had the potential to give me the headache of a lifetime. But, then again, it was at least equally possible that none of this was real. Perhaps I was still asleep in my bed, dreaming everything up. I would wake up any minute, and then everything would be back to normal. However, it seemed I was completely awake, even though I was evidently in a girl's small body brushing her teeth in the bathroom of our parents' house. Of course, since I had never experienced being a woman before I had no way of knowing what kind of unique sensations they were supposed to have, but as far as I could tell, I felt what I had to feel, from the hollowness in my crotch to the weight of the long hair on my head. But what if those sensations were simulated? The skin could have generated an illusion of some sort that was designed to fool the wearer, who was actually running around in a suit made of rubber, looking ridiculous. If this had indeed been true, then it would have been hard to explain why Kate's suit had fooled me as well and not just her. The same applied to my suit and Mom as the observer. One more possibility came to mind. Stevie Hillwood, a local pothead and one of my childhood friends, could have poisoned the town's water supply with LSD, sending me, Kate and a number of other people on a collective trip. That was the most plausible theory I could come up with. I had sometimes wondered what a real drug trip would be like, but if this was one, I would never, ever touch hallucinogens. Kate was probably getting impatient, so I decided I was done washing up. After spending a few moments brushing my new hair, I stepped out of the bathroom and into the new day, mentally bracing myself. Virtually anything could happen before my next bedtime--as I had seen that the laws of science and logic were no longer absolute in this household-- and thus I would have no way to prepare for whatever was to come. I am a person who likes to be in control of his life, and now I wasn't. That annoyed and frightened me, even though I knew Kate would never let any serious harm come to me. I took my pajamas off and went to examine the pile of clothing placed on the railing of the staircase, all the while trying not to let my attention focus on my naked body. The first thing I picked up was a pair of panties, similar to those I had worn the day before, and I slid them up my legs. While I still had to put some effort into overcoming my aversion to wearing something as feminine as white cotton panties, the fact that the most troubling feature of my new anatomy was soon securely hidden offered a little comfort. "Kate!" I called. "I need some help!" "With what?" she hollered back from the kitchen. "The bra! I don't know how to put it on!" "Now's as good a time as any to learn. You're on your own, sis!" I took the garment in my hand and looked over it. I hadn't had much experience with those things before this; if only I had been more popular back in school, I might have been at least able to open a bra quickly, but as it was, my skills were wanting even in that respect. Then again, most women wore bras every day. How difficult could it really be to put on one? The struggle that ensued would be a story in itself. I nearly dislocated both of my shoulders trying to get the damn clasp closed, and even when that succeeded, the cups felt awkward. I did my best to adjust them the way I had seen Kate do it, but the result was less than ideal. Cursing and sweating, I finally gave up and moved on after having wasted more than ten minutes on the bra. I had found one more reason to be glad when I would have my male form restored, and the list of those reasons was already long enough. The next item was light brown pantyhose, another article of clothing I had never worn before. Luckily I happened to know, in theory, how to deal with them. I rolled them up and then put my feet in, one foot at a time, all the while being cautious not to tear them. Once I had them up, I was satisfied. They were still intact as far as I could see. The seams were probably anything but straight, but I couldn't care less. The rest of the clothes were not quite that hard to get into. First I donned a white tank top, then a black denim miniskirt, and finally a cream-colored light sweater. I was certain Kate had picked the skirt only to humiliate me, but since there was nothing else to choose from, I had to swallow my pride once more. A pair of sandals completed the outfit. It would not be accurate to say that the clothes were uncomfortable. They fit my new frame well enough but they didn't feel "right" on me. Everything above the waistline was a bit too tight (although maybe the blouse was designed to be snug and I just wasn't used to wearing anything quite like it), and the skirt left my legs exposed. The pantyhose were something completely new to me; while I didn't really appreciate the encasing feeling, the nylon was surprisingly warm against bare skin. I reminded myself that things could have been worse- -at least Kate hadn't made me wear a PVC suit or something kinky like that--and then walked down the stairs, trying to keep the loose sandals from slipping off my feet. Kate was waiting for me in the kitchen. Mom had already gone to work, so there was the scent of fresh coffee in the air. "Let's see," Kate said as she appraised me. "Turn around! By the way, did you get the bra on properly?" "I don't know," I replied. "Guess not." "Okay, strip. I'll take a look at it." I complied, taking the sweater and the top off. Upon seeing the results of my honest effort, Kate chuckled and commented, "Hey, you klutz, you've got the back strap all twisted! No wonder if it doesn't feel good. Let me fix it." With practiced ease, she opened the clasp, straightened the strap and then closed the clasp again. The unwanted pressure on my breasts and chest disappeared instantly, and I proceeded to put the rest of the clothes back on. All that done, Kate pointed at the table and said, "I made you some breakfast, so be my quest and dig in." I regard breakfast as one of the best moments of the day, and every minute of it has to be savored if at all possible. However, what Kate had put on the table did not come even close to my standards: I was treated to nothing but two sandwiches with cheese and cucumber, a cookie and a cup of hot water. A lone teabag was sitting right next to the cup. Reading the label, I noticed the stuff was of the same herbal brand Kate liked to drink. "Is this all?" I asked in an upset tone of voice. "Do you want me to starve to death? I can't possibly get my day started with this!" "Yes, this is all," she explained calmly. "You shouldn't eat as much as you usually do because that body needs less energy than your own and also because it always takes you an hour or so just to finish your breakfast. I don't have the time to wait for you today." "Why? What's the rush?" "Remember, you haven't even begun your Buffy studies yet. The other guys will have watched a few episodes by now and they're getting to know their characters. You've got a lot of catching up to do." I sighed, willing myself not to curse out loud. "Can I at least have the newspaper, Kate?" "Sure. It's on the counter, help yourself." I ate the sandwiches and gulped down the tea while skimming through the paper quickly. I enjoyed neither the food nor the news, but the worst part of the morning was naturally yet to come. After I was finished (which did not take long this time), Kate dragged me back to the upstairs bathroom, sat me down on a chair in front of her vanity table and announced that I was going to learn what it was like to wear makeup. When Kate had started wearing cosmetics regularly years ago, she transformed one of the rear corners of the upstairs bathroom into her personal beauty salon. She had found an unused small table in the attic and had Dad carry it to the bathroom, along with a large tabletop mirror, and finally she had expropriated a wooden chair from the living room. These she pressed into service as her personal vanity set. Whenever she was going out for the night, she would lock herself in the bathroom to work on her looks, sometimes for close to two hours, before she deemed herself presentable. I was now in for a similar treatment. "What I'm going to be doing here," she told me, "is a light daytime makeup. It's supposed to look natural but it's actually harder to do than a night makeup, you know, the kind you wear to a party or something like that. Since I'm not familiar with your face, I need some practice. Bear with me, Buffy." Kate soon began to fuss with all kinds of brushes, pencils, powders, sticks and lotions, applying almost everything imaginable to my face. Every once in a while she stopped and thought for a moment, sometimes aloud, what to do next. She kept ordering me to stay as still as possible or to turn my head so that she could see how I looked from different angles. Whenever she put mascara or eyeliner on me, I was genuinely afraid that she might put out one of my eyes. She was clearly on top of things and made no mistakes that could have been painful to me, but I was still reluctant to let her go through with everything she had on her mind. After this had been going on for a period of time that seemed like several hours to me, she suddenly declared that she had gone totally wrong with the process and that she'd have to start all over again. She then wiped my entire face with makeup remover and a moist towel, undoing everything. All this happened twice. "Third time's the charm, sis!" Kate said proudly. I had completely lost the track of time at that point and was hoping she might simply give everything up and let me be. "I have to admit I was getting a bit frustrated with this thing, but I think it went pretty well after all. Take a look." Even though I couldn't really tell the difference between a successful and a slightly failed makeup job, Kate had certainly managed to change my appearance a little. Her touching up my face had somehow accentuated the natural beauty I now possessed. The girl in the mirror was strikingly beautiful even without makeup, but adding some had increased her attractiveness all the same. Kate was probably expecting me to say something constructive, but I did not have the words; being completely new to almost everything having to do with cosmetics and their use, I could judge what I saw only from a man's perspective. The image of the girl had gotten slightly prettier, and that was that for me. "Nice," I commented. "I mean, I guess it's nice. I don't know how I'm supposed to look like." "Thank you," she said. "Just don't praise me too much." "Well, I'm sorry but---" "I know, I know. No need to explain, I understand. Now, you keep the makeup on for a couple of hours, and then we'll wash it away. Remember, you shouldn't touch your face if you can avoid it, and be extra careful not to rub your eyes. It's a little something to get used to, but I'm sure you'll learn. Right, go downstairs and get ready for the rest of the day, Buffy." "Don't call---" "Shoo!" "Fine, I'm going." Kate had claimed that the makeup was "light", but it certainly didn't feel light. The greasy and oily layer of cosmetics on my face was at least an inch thick, going by the sensations I had. It also had a strange faint smell that I didn't find very appealing. I wanted to wash it all off, but that was definitely out of the question. Besides, the chemicals had caused my facial skin to tickle slightly, and I had to stop myself twice from scratching my cheeks before I had even reached the downstairs floor. I was about to resume reading the paper when I heard a car engine outside. Kate ran down the stairs and went straight to the door, opening it before the visitor had even knocked. "Hi!" I heard her squeal happily, and as she received a similar response, I concluded that it was Sammy she was greeting. The babbling and giggling girls then came inside and entered the kitchen where I was still standing in the middle of the floor, waiting to see what they had in store for me. Samantha Kosinski was one of Kate's best friends and also Scott's girlfriend at the time. I could write an entire book about her alone, but as the time and space available do not permit that, a shorter description will have to do. To start with her outer appearance, Sammy was a very petite and thin, almost frail blond girl who stood barely five feet tall. She had a beautiful, round face framed by golden curly hair and a pair of baby blue eyes that immediately captured almost anyone's attention. This beauty was somewhat balanced by her whiny nasal voice, which took on a downright grating tone whenever she was sufficiently agitated--and that tended to happen fairly often. She considered herself artistic and creative, and she did have reasonably good skills as a painter. As far as her personality went, she was a rather complex case to figure out entirely. Usually she presented herself as nice and kind, but she could also be fickle, entitled, self-absorbed and quick to anger. Maybe the best fitting adjective is "unpredictable", as she sometimes threw tantrums and refused to speak to certain people for reasons that were obscure to everyone but her. Her relationship with Scott was teen melodrama at its purest, regardless of the fact that Scott was technically not a teen anymore; their common history was full of breakups and makeups, suspicions of cheating, fierce verbal fights and whatnot. Sammy was the main source of these twists and turns, whereas Scott's job was mostly limited to complying with his girlfriend's orders. "Well," Kate asked Sammy as the latter sized me up with her eyes, "what do you think about my handiwork?" "Not bad," Sammy laughed. "Not bad at all! So, here we have the Buffster herself. Has she been a good girl, Kate?" "I'd say yes," Kate replied. "She's been surprisingly tame, actually. I expected some more trouble, such as little fits every now and then, me having to tie her up for the makeup session and so on, but fortunately I was wrong. Of course, there are always all kinds of little things. She talks back and we often have to negotiate before we do anything, but other than that, she's a very nice girl." "Don't talk about me like I was a dog," I protested and went on to mock her, "'Oh, she's so good, housebroken and everything. Sometimes she barks too much, but other than that, she is---'" "See?" Kate said to Sammy. "That's what I get from time to time, bitching with a touch of sarcasm on top. Hey, Buff, I'm not saying you're like a dog. I was just telling her how well you've behaved!" "You don't make it easy for me," I quipped. "By the way, Sammy," Kate continued, turning to her friend, "how's Dawn doing?" "Oh, little Dawnie is such a sweetheart!" Sammy gushed. "I've had no problems whatsoever training her. She's so compliant and open-minded, always eager to please me. Actually, I'm so confident in her that I left her home alone to study when I came here. I think she'll embrace her character in no time." "That's great to hear." "Yeah. To be honest, though, I have to admit there was this one little accident... You see, she went to the bathroom last night and forgot to sit down. She made a mess there." For some reason, the girls seemed to find this extremely amusing and they giggled like crazy. I had been listening to their conversation in a somewhat befuddled state of mind, but suddenly I realized that they had to be talking about Scott, my cousin. Poor boy, I thought. He had evidently been humiliated worse than me. Sammy had to have done something out of ordinary to him since even though Scott was quite pliable when it came to dealing with his girlfriend, he was not completely spineless and could at least usually hold his own in matters of principle. "Anyway," Sammy said, "I came to bring you these, as I promised. Joanna has worked really hard to get them done." "Yeah, I'm sure. Tell her I said thanks," Kate replied. Sammy handed her two thick bundles of papers that had been stapled together. My sister then asked, "Did you bring the box set too?" "Sure. It's in the car, I'll go get it. Wait here." "What's in there?" I asked Kate, pointing at the papers. "Humiliation instructions?" "No," she said. "Actually, they're for you. We've prepared a crash course for you newcomers. Short introduction to the basics of the Buffyverse, descriptions of the main characters and an episode guide-- it's all here. Go through all this by Friday and learn as much as you can." "You are kidding, right?" "Again, no. Think of Joanna! She has written and compiled this for you so that you won't be totally in the dark when we get to the roleplaying part. All you really have to do is read." "And watch," Sammy added as she reentered the room with a DVD box in her hand. "Kate, Joanna told me that you have to take these to Tina by tomorrow afternoon, which is why you'd better start showing Mike the episodes pretty soon. Tina has the other DVDs, so you'll swap disks with her." "Right," Kate said. "It's a good thing Joanna has the whole series." "Yep, we always have something fun to watch, plus it makes great learning material for our pledges." "That girl ought to get a life," I commented wryly. "Moreover, what the hell do you mean by 'pledges'? I'm not pledging to anything here." "Don't say things you might regret," Kate advised me. "Joanna is a wonderful person, as you should know. She's the biggest Buffy fan around, true, but it's not like she has nothing else to live for. And as far as the pledge thing goes--well, you guys are indeed pledges of our small sorority right now. If you do your best, you might be accepted as members." "Do you know that what I just heard hardly motivates me to obey you?" I asked her. "On the contrary, sister dear. I don't want anything to do with your weird little gaming society." "You know I don't like threatening you, but if nothing else works, you'll spend the rest of the year as a Sarah Michelle clone. I'm serious, believe me. How's that for motivation?" "You're hitting under the belt, Kate." "She only has your best interest in mind," Sammy said and added with a giggle, "Just think of all the pretty dresses you get to wear!" "Yeah, I'm so thrilled I just might throw up," I grunted. "Anyways," Sammy spoke up, "I've got to be going. I still have a lot of work to do, and so do you, I presume. Good luck with your project, Kate!" "Same to you," my sister responded. "Thanks for bringing the stuff. It comes in handy." "Don't mention it. Bye!" "Bye, Sammy!" With that, she was gone. I could hear her start her car and drive off. Kate pushed the papers to me and said, "Get cracking. There's plenty to learn." "I don't really feel like it just now," I protested. "Maybe after lunch. It's too early for me to digest anything like---" "Oh, come on!" she interrupted. "It's important stuff. You'll be playing the title character, and if you have no idea about what's going on, the whole roleplaying session will be bust. We need your participation." "So, let me ask you a question," I said. "You are well aware that my friends and I know next to nothing about Buffy, and still you give us major roles. Why is that? It doesn't make any sense." "It was Tina's idea, actually," Kate revealed. "She suggested we have a crossplay session." "What's crossplay?" "Crossdressing costume play, or, in this case, roleplay. Because women pretty much drive the show, there's no choice but to have you guys play important parts. It's a challenge, but if you put in enough preparation and dedication, you'll pull it off. Besides, we'll be around to help you and give you guidance in case you need it." "I don't think it'll work." "It will. You're one of the smartest people I know, and you can learn pretty much anything if you put your mind to it. In fact, that's why I argued you should be our Buffy when we were doing the casting. Joanna would have had you play Willow, but I managed to turn her head. To add to that, you and Scott are like brothers anyway, so you guys make great Buffy and Dawn." "Thanks for the compliment, but the whole plan still sounds really odd." "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Just get to work and start studying; leave the rest to us." She turned to leave but stopped to add, "Read the whole thing over once, and when you're done, let me know so we can start watching the DVDs." "Fantastic." "Take your time. I have to go get some groceries." "Wait! You mean you're leaving me here alone?" "Well, yes," she said, looking somewhat surprised at my reaction. "You're a grownup, aren't you? What's the problem?" "What if somebody comes? I can't let people see me like this. Hell, I can't even answer the phone!" "If that's how you feel, I'll lock the door, and if someone calls, tell them you're our second cousin visiting from California, or something like that." "No one's going to believe me." "It's your job to make them believe. Think of it as an acting challenge. Mind if I take your car? Okay, good, bye!" I tried to shout that I did mind, but she had already closed the door behind her and couldn't or wouldn't hear me. I sighed heavily and picked up the papers. Perhaps this is as good a time as any to admit that I hadn't been completely truthful with Kate--or with Jake, for that matter. A few years ago, when I had moved into my own apartment and could finally enjoy some privacy, I had indeed watched some episodes of Buffy and found them entertaining in their own right, even if I never actually developed a close connection with the show. To call me a fan would have been an overstatement, but I certainly didn't "hate" or "dislike" it either, and I did have at least a vague idea of what it was all about. However, it seemed that I was now going to learn a whole lot more, whether I wanted to or not. The brochure began with a brief introduction, but I skipped it and turned to the next page to find the character biographies. Each entry was adorned with a black-and-white portrait of the person in question, but obviously Joanna's printer wasn't quite up to the job and the images had turned out rather badly. In all, there were about fifteen of the most important characters listed. While a substantial portion of the actual information presented was more or less lost on me, the biographies did explain a few things I had wondered about. Having gained a little more confidence in my ability to finish reading the notes by Friday, I moved on to the section titled "Episode Guide". My optimism waned quickly as I realized that there were pages and pages of text, written in a very small font. I was expecting nothing but a listing of episode titles along with very short plot descriptions (so as not to give away too much); instead, the synopses were long and detailed, and someone had painstakingly added episode-specific quotes by character, trivia tidbits, production mistakes, general commentary, original airing dates, Nielsen ratings, guest casting information and whatnot, confirming my belief that either Joanna had been very busy typing up all this or that she had found a good Internet site to steal all the data from. In any case, that could have been no easy task as there were something like 150 episodes altogether, going by a quick count. The amount of useless information was simply staggering. Nevertheless, I started reading the guide. At first, I decided to skip only the "production data" part, but I gradually left more and more text unread, and before I was halfway into the first season, I was barely skimming each entry. After a while I was staring at a random trivia point somewhere near the middle of the episode guide and wondering why it was important to know that the Initiative (whatever that was) called demons "Hostile Sub-Terrestrials". It might have been a fascinating experience--in a drug trip sort of way--to let this surreal arcane knowledge fill my brain, but I was worried for my mental health which, after all, had already suffered due to my transformation. So I decided to check if there was anything more to the study course. The "Monster Listing" section I found at the end was the final blow. Not only was it harder to understand and more outlandish than everything preceding it; it also provided the conclusive proof to my theory that 1) there was no way for me to assimilate the contents of the notes in just a couple of days, 2) Joanna was possibly clinically insane, and 3) the people who came up with these bogeymen had to be clinically insane. I threw the papers on the table and sighed in resignation. As it happened, Kate chose that moment to return. "How's it going?" she asked, carrying two large plastic bags as she entered the kitchen. "Studying hard, are we?" "Feeling funny in the head, we are," I replied. "Keep going," she said and began to unload the bags. "Oh, I almost forgot. Read the episodes that have a small star next to their title extra carefully. They contain important info and plot points. We're going to watch some of them together later." "I think I'm starting to lose it," I said. "You shouldn't push me like this." "It'll be fine," she said absentmindedly. "Just give it some time." "No, really. I just realized that the Albanian government has planted remote-controlled mechanical flies in this house and they are giving me telepathic orders to go and eat mud in the garden." She clearly was not listening at all, and so I continued, "I'm pretty worried. Should we call the CIA or somebody? Have you seen Dad's shotgun anywhere?" "What?" Kate asked. "What were you saying?" "Nothing much." "Anyway, get ready so we can start watching. I think we have time for a couple of episodes before lunch, and then we'll continue. I'll give you a nice and thorough Buffy lesson." And did she ever. (To be continued...)