Life Out Of Joint - Chapter 3/7: Off The Rails free porn video

LIFE OUT OF JOINT by Crazy Baron Chapter 3/7 -- Off the Rails Synopsis: The second half of the Halloween roleplaying party sees moments of fun mixed with unintended and unexpected drama. Cousin Scott needs to be rescued from a life of vice. ***** The girls had decided that we would have dinner right after the roleplay session, and for once, everybody was in perfect agreement that it was a good idea. "Spike", "Angel" and "Xander" popped out to get the food from the back room, and seizing the opportunity, Scott immediately went outside and returned a minute later with his cheeks flush. The smell of whiskey wafted all around him, and I wondered why the girls hadn't noticed it yet. Jake, Charlie, Scott and I then helped the party organizers set the table, and in a few moments it was time to dig in. The menu included potato salad, green salad, boiled eggs, sausages and a few varieties of bread, with chocolate chip cookies and a basketful of assorted fruits for dessert; as for drinks, we could help ourselves to sparkling water, diet Coke and Pepsi, as well as the contents of the aforementioned crate of non-alcoholic beer. Even though the girls had brought plenty of all kinds of food, not much was left over when we eventually finished eating. The party planners were soon engaged in a lively discussion about the play session, comparing it with their previous ones and coming up with new ideas. This marked a perceptible change in the atmosphere: although the fake men still referred to us and each other by the character names, even they were no longer consistently pretending that we were the dramatis personae, and the party as a whole took a small step towards relative normalcy. I ended up seated between "Angel" and Scott and across the table from "Faith", who had piled a large mound of potato salad on her plate and was busily consuming it with a fork. Our eyes happened to meet, and she paused, holding up the fork and smiling at me. "Well," she said, "that wasn't so bad, was it?" "What do you mean?" I asked. "The roleplay. I could see you really started getting into it towards the end." "Oh, I don't know. I'm still hardly even a beginner at this. I honestly had no idea what to do." "You could have fooled me, Buffy. Tell me, didn't it feel great to forget about the plain old everyday you and become her for a while? To really lose yourself and just let it flow?" "That would be a stretch," I said with a chuckle. "I barely made it through. I have to admit it was almost kind of fun at times, though." "Don't be too modest," she said and smiled again, in a sincerely friendly manner as far as I could discern. "Who knows, you might be taking your first steps on a road to discovering great new things." "Such as an unabashed admiration for Joss Whedon's screenwriting talent?" "Yeah, definitely that," she replied, "and maybe a whole lot of other stuff--about yourself." I was going to dismiss politely her idea of this evening somehow opening my eyes to a completely different way of thinking and then, if it turned out to be called for, maybe lighten up the mood with a harmless non-pedophile-themed joke, but the closing part of her comment disrupted my train of thought. I wondered whether this was simply another jab aimed at me, and supposing it wasn't, what she could be alluding to. However, before I could ask for clarification, "Riley" jumped in. "You're spot on!" he commended "Faith". "This is not just about playing dress-up and making like you are your favorite character on a TV show, no matter if it's the best show there ever was or will be. I mean, that's of course fun, but look at things on a deeper level. You can literally get into someone else's skin, see the world through their eyes and overcome the limits you think your own body sets to you. And then you find out the limits weren't there in the first place." The topic was clearly close to his heart, and he went on, with enthusiasm almost worthy of a proselytizing preacher, "If only we had a million or ten million of these skinsuits! We could give them to people everywhere and make them realize that your sex is not what defines you. Just imagine it! All the arbitrary norms and gender roles our society has invented and thrust on us would be history in a day. People would understand there's really not much substance to them. What this boils down to is that they're little more than a patriarchal convention. But if we could turn any man into a woman, or the other way round, and back again, there would soon be no patriarchy." Despite the fact that I knew perfectly well it would have been more than prudent to keep quiet or at least not to challenge him overtly, I opened my mouth with the intention of letting him and all the others hear my dissension. For better or worse, however, Jake was faster than me. Casually impaling a small sausage with his fork, he said with pretended offhandedness, "Yeah, you go, girl. Blame men and society for your PMS. Makes perfect sense." "Willow!" "Riley" upbraided him. "That was totally uncalled for. If you want to debate gender roles with me, at least you could be civil." "I was," Jake responded. "Considering how idiotic your little speech sounded, I gave it all the respect it deserved. If not more." For a couple of seconds, "Riley" stared at Jake with narrowed eyes and reddened cheeks, apparently doing his utmost to keep his anger in check. The rest of the people around the table had also fallen silent and were now watching the two adversaries intently, curious and anxious to see how the situation might develop. Then, "Riley's" features suddenly softened and he let out a small chuckle. "Have it your way," he said. "I'm going to be the better person here and not stoop to your level. I won't start slinging insults back and worth. If you want to live in ignorance like a typical sexist male even after all you've experienced over the last couple of days, be my guest." "Whatever the last couple of days have or haven't taught me," Jake said, "men don't piss standing up and women don't give birth only because some vast evil male conspiracy tells them to. Society doesn't dictate basic biology. It's not open for debate, no matter what you think. And by the way, don't bother trotting out the postmodernist---" "Guys," "Angel" interrupted him. "No politics, okay?" "Yeah, let's stick to being nice to each other," "Spike" seconded him. "Out of curiosity," "Xander" said, obviously as eager as the others to steer the conversation to safer waters, "how did you deal with your students when they were making trouble?" "My students?" "Riley" asked. "Wills and Cordy, when they were staying at your place during the week. What did you do if something like this threatened to happen?" "Oh, right!" he brightened up. "Well, me and Kathy made it clear from the start that we're not talking about politics, religion or other sensitive topics, and I suppose our schedule was for the most part too busy to give anybody much downtime, so there weren't that many disturbances. It's not like they didn't find other ways to irritate us, though." "Such as what?" "Spike" inquired. "When we were watching 'The Body' together, the cheerleader type over there cracked a very inappropriate joke. I don't even know what kind of person you have to be to think of something like that when you see poor Joyce lying dead there." "I was only relieving the tension," Charlie defended himself. "I mean, Tina and Kathy were actually sniveling at a fictional character dying on TV. It's silly. Who does that?" "It's a heartbreaking scene!" "Angel" argued. "Are you saying you didn't find it the slightest bit moving?" "Sure, it's a moving scene," Charlie responded, "but that's all it is. It's not real." "To quote a great man," Jake added, "'Get a life, people! For crying out loud, it's just a TV show!'" "And this demonstrates perfectly why we decided on adding a bit of sensitivity training to the curriculum," "Riley" continued and smirked. "We luckily had some, shall we say, suitable literature at hand, so we made both of these lovely young ladies give us a dramatic reading of a few short stories from the 'Women's Fantasies' category." All the fake men, again with the addition of "Faith", burst out laughing. "As fun as that was--for us, at least," "Riley" went on, "I guess the lesson didn't entirely sink in straight away. There was another little incident later that same night, and that time, Cordy ended up writing a 500-word erotic essay. We specified the title, and it was... wait a minute... Oh yeah, now I remember: 'Encounter in an Elevator', featuring herself and a handsome stranger in the starring role." There was more laughter, while Charlie and Jake quietly and sullenly concentrated on their food. "It was a damn hot story, too! She's got talent. Kathy told me she got a little wet reading it!" "Do you still have it?" "Angel" guffawed. "I want to see it!" "Sure thing. If you like no-holds-barred hetero sex, it's right up your alley. I have to warn you, though, it's definitely not safe for work!" "Sign me up for a copy!" "Xander" accompanied the others. The hilarity took a fair amount of time to subside, and if the whole purpose of the discussion had been to put Charlie and Jake back in their place, it certainly succeeded: neither of them was in much of a mood to argue anymore. I was silently grateful that Kate had not been as imaginative (or vindictive) in inventing types of punishment for me during my "training". "Too bad somebody's taken the DVD player away," "Spike" remarked on a different topic. "We usually do a little Buffyoke after eating, but it's out of the question now." "Buffyoke?" Jake inquired. "That sounds like something that's not legal in this jurisdiction." "No, no!" "Spike" laughed. "Nothing like that at all! We put a Buffy DVD in the player, turn on the subtitles and read the lines in sync with the actors on the screen. It's really funny when a guy is doing a girl's voice, or the other way around." "It's probably funnier than a guy being in a girl's body," Charlie commented. "We got the idea from one of my online friends who sometimes goes to Buffy conventions. She says it's always a big hit there, and they have started doing it with their own local roleplaying group as well." "You're saying there are other groups like this one?" I asked him. "Sure there are," he said. "It's just that nobody else has costumes like these. You know, the friend of mine I mentioned even likes to share photos of players dressed as the characters. I actually had to fake a few shots because it wasn't like I could take pictures of us in our real costumes and then e-mail some to her. She would never have believed they are for real." "Hey, can I choose a movie for us to watch at the next party?" Scott volunteered. "I've got excellent taste!" "Let me think about it," "Xander" said and added immediately, "No." "Why not?" "Remember the time when we were picking a movie for our first dating half-anniversary and you made me believe 'Goodfellas' was a romantic comedy?" "It's got some romance and comedy," I pointed out on Scott's behalf. "No, Buffy," he told me forcefully and in a patronizing tone. "It's about a bunch of mobsters killing people! Don't try to defend your sister; she basically ruined our anniversary with that movie." "Which reminds me," Scott continued, "Sammy, when our next anniversary comes, can we watch 'Platoon' together? I promise it's a legit chick flick, and a true tear-jerker at that." "I'm not that stupid," "Xander" declared, emphasizing each word in turn. The dinner conversation, and the dinner itself, began to wind down soon afterwards. We emptied our plates and gave our compliments to everyone responsible for the food. "Spike" made a point to ask if anyone still wanted more, and when he received a reply in the negative, he and the other fake men started putting away the perishables. One by one, the others stood up and moved back to the couch or gave the party organizers a hand with clearing the table until only "Faith" and I remained. I had a small piece of bread left, and she lounged on her chair, apparently content and in no hurry to move on. She picked up a banana from the fruit basket and toyed with it idly. Once more, she had a sly smirk on her lips. "I have a confession to make, B," she told me casually. "I'm kind of bored by all this niceness and playing things safe. What do you say we turn up the heat just a little?" "Turn up the heat?" I inquired. "Do you want another debate on feminism and sociology?" "No, nothing like that," she chuckled. "I had something totally different in mind." "What might that be?" She peeled the banana, kissed its tip and then began to fellate it obscenely. Assuming that she was merely trying to get a reaction out of me, I made no comment but wondered silently if she actually had plans to have sex with someone while in her present female form. It was getting increasingly difficult for me to tell whether I was dealing with Larry Simmons, Faith the Vampire Slayer, or some combination of the two. Finally she bit off the end of the banana and began to eat it properly. "Does this answer your question?" she asked. "I'd say so." "What about you? Feel like a little roll in the hay? Not that it's my business, but if I were you, I'd be setting my sights on a certain bleached blond guy right now. Could pay off." "The only payoff I'm looking forward to is getting out of this stupid skinsuit," I said, decidedly out of character. "What skinsuit?" "Faith" quipped. "Do what you want, but keep in mind that nice girls finish last." I ate up what remained of my bread and got on my feet; "Faith" followed suit. I was not sure what we were supposed to do next, so I decided to ask "Angel" about it and offer my assistance in case there were some chores that the party organizers needed help with. "Your lip gloss is a little bit smeared," he said before I could even clear my throat. "You should go and fix it." He quickly went to the sports bag and fetched a small makeup pouch which he put in my hand. "Oh, and while you're at it," he continued, "tell Dawn to freshen up too. Her makeup's running around the eyes, and... Hey, where is she? She was just here a second ago!" Sure enough, Scott had again disappeared, no doubt having snuck outside to take another swig of his priced Vat 69, but I kept mum about this and merely made my way to the bathroom with the makeup kit. I turned on the light, locked the door to ensure a modicum of privacy and set the pouch on the sink in front of a large mirror. As with the rest of the house in general, everything was tidy and in good order here, I noted, with a strong fragrance of an air freshener floating about. There was a pile of paper towels on the sink, so I picked one, moistened one of its corners with water from the tap and then rubbed off the gloss that had spread outside my lips. Even though I did this as carefully and gently as I could, I still managed to smear some more onto my skin; another attempt gave the same result. In the end, I had to wipe my lips entirely clean and put a completely fresh coating on them (this operation took two tries, as well). I then smiled and puckered my lips, watching myself in the mirror. While Kate would probably have regarded my handiwork as barely adequate, I was happy with it, considering the circumstances. Now the gloss wasn't quite even, but at least it was where it should have been, namely on my lips and not all over my chin and cheeks. Other than that, the cosmetics on my face had held up relatively well, and I decided not to try my luck by touching up the eye shadow or blush. Throwing the tube of lip gloss back into the makeup pouch, I washed my hands and returned to the main hall. The hall had undergone a sudden transformation into a ball room while I was struggling with my makeup. The chairs and the couch had been moved to the side, and now most of the partygoers were dancing in the middle of the floor to a techno song that the stereo was pumping out. Mercifully, the volume was nowhere near the typical nightclub levels, so hearing loss was not an immediate concern, but the music was still loud enough to make normal conversation a little difficult. "Come dance with us!" "Xander" beckoned me. "No thanks," I called back. "Not with these boots!" I was hardly the kind of person to shine on dancefloors, irrespective of the style of music. Aside from the fact that I, by and large, had the proverbial two left feet, I almost always felt uncomfortable, even painfully self-conscious when dancing, whether I was by myself or with a woman. Now, as a woman, that feeling was amplified by an order of magnitude, and I was for the first time grateful of the unwieldy boots which provided me with the perfect excuse to give the dancing a pass. Most of the others didn't suffer from such anxiety. The fake men were clearly enjoying themselves, and there was also Scott, swinging his arms and moving his feet wildly and having a drunken blast. The true star of the show, however, was none other than "Faith". True to her character, she mixed with the others and was showing off her body by doing all sorts of provocative moves. Jake and Charlie, on the other hand, were standing away from the action, sideways to me, and observing the dancers. Judging by their expressions and body language, they were amused and at the same time a bit apprehensive, feelings that I shared with them. I joined their company and asked, "Not very interested in moving to the beat, am I right?" I had to raise my voice somewhat to be heard. "They look to be doing fine without us," Charlie remarked, turning his head to look at me and cracking a smile. "Let's not interfere." "My thoughts exactly," Jake echoed him and nodded. "Faith" made sure to touch the apparent men with her hands as often as possible, and they happily went along and moved with her. After a while, she seemed to settle on "Riley", turning her back towards him and letting her behind brush against him casually. I had initially assumed that she (or rather Larry) was merely acting in character, doing what her TV counterpart would have done in a similar situation, and having essentially innocent fun--but the more I watched her, the less certain I became of that. To be sure, Larry had been playing his role to the hilt all through the evening, but this act was so convincing I had to wonder if he was really intent on seducing "Riley". "Hey, guys!" "Xander" hollered to us. "Seriously, come and dance with us!" "Thanks, but no thanks," Jake responded for himself, Charlie and me. "We're good." Upon hearing this, "Xander", together with "Angel" and "Spike", paused their dancing and walked up to us. "There's another party rule we forgot to mention," he said. "No wallflowers allowed!" Immediately, "Angel" pulled Charlie to the dancefloor; my woman-shaped friend only had time to let out a little feminine yelp of surprise, and then it was Jake's turn. A smiling "Xander" whisked him off, leaving me with "Spike". In no time, I found myself on the floor together with him, my cheeks red and my legs stiff due to my embarrassment. I had to persuade myself that I had nothing to lose and all the others, too, were cheerfully making total fools of themselves around me. That took a fair amount of effort, but gradually I did manage to loosen up to a small degree and even laugh a little at the whole thing. Scott, merrily intoxicated and having lost most of his inhibitions, had taken it upon himself to provide entertainment for everyone. Flailing his arms like an idiot, he wandered back and worth, going from person to person. He would dance with them for a while, tousle their hair playfully, hold them by the hips or even pinch their butts. "Xander" received a kiss on the cheek from him, as did Jake. This was standard fare for him on his nights out, and the fact that he was now in a teenage girl's body had done nothing to change his behavior. As wearisome as his antics could occasionally be when he was drunk, we as his friends knew him and never took offense. This time was no exception; I laughed heartily at his maneuvers with "Xander" and then almost got a kiss on the lips for my trouble. Meanwhile, "Faith" was taking her performance to new heights. She rubbed her body against "Riley's" in a manner that was nothing short of erotic, and he was apparently very glad to return the favor by caressing "Faith's" back and butt with his hands. The couple had become practically oblivious to the rest of the world, lost in their shared steamy moment, and kept dancing. When the song ended, she treated him to an enticing smile, took him by the hand and began to lead him towards the door to the back room. He followed eagerly, resting his free hand on her waist, and moments later they disappeared into the other room. The door slammed closed behind them. Jake, Charlie and I were astonished by what we had just seen. Curious looks quickly passed across the faces of the remaining "men" as well, but overall they didn't seem very concerned. "Anybody mind explaining what the hell that was all about?" I blurted out over the first, soft- sounding notes of the next song. "Oh, don't worry about them," "Spike" said and let out a laugh. "They're just having a little fun at our expense." What followed at once turned out to be some more fun, in this case at my expense. The piece that had started to play on the stereo began in earnest with a dance beat and a female singer delivering the lyrics of the first verse in heavily accented spoken voice. All the synthetic men had suddenly turned their eyes on me, and wide smiles were playing on their lips, as if they were expecting me to say or do something hilarious. I was once more at a loss, and even though the song sounded vaguely familiar, I didn't understand what it had to do with me or how I was supposed to act. "Remember when you asked me if you had thanked me for saving your life, and I said no?" "Xander" finally spoke up, approaching me. "If you don't mind, you could do the thanking thing now." "Go ahead, but don't try to make anyone jealous," "Angel" told me, and the "men" shared a laugh. As I found out, "the thanking thing" meant me having the next dance with "Xander" while the others mostly watched. It wasn't until halfway into the song that I recalled it was featured in one of the episodes Kate had shown me--and when I also remembered the context, a blush crept all over my cheeks. Needless to say, my dancing was far more restrained and far less sensual than what my character had demonstrated on the screen; nonetheless, the ersatz Buffy Summers of Greensville still received a good deal of joking remarks and egging on from the spectators. After a few more songs and plenty of laughs, not least thanks to Scott, most of us gradually began to feel a short break was in order. "Xander", who was in charge of the stereo set, left the music on but turned the volume down so that normal conversation again became possible, and then we all sat down on the couch and the chairs. Charlie picked up the beer crate and a few soda bottles and placed them on the floor next to the couch, within easy reach for everyone. The preplanned party activities had more or less concluded, and all that remained was casual hanging out. I enjoyed this part the most, regardless of the fact that all of us still being in costume but not really acting like our characters made it more surreal an experience than the roleplaying session itself. "What do you think, guys," "Spike" said, "should we ask the ladies to join us again when we have the next party?" "Oh, absolutely," "Angel" opined. "They've been a bit slow to warm up to roleplaying and Buffyverse, but I think they're getting there. We could always use more people." "If you're planning to invite us again," Jake spoke up, "could you at least let us play men the next time around?" The fake men looked at each other, raised their eyebrows and then replied, all together: "Nope!" At once, they burst into hearty laughter. "What's the matter?" "Xander" teased us. "Don't you like your bras and panties?" "Uh, seriously speaking," "Angel" pointed out, "I suppose we could give them a choice. They've been pretty good sports after all." "Maybe," "Xander" said, "but turning them into girls is just priceless. Can't give that up!" "Yeah, sure, it's fun, but at some point it would go too far. It's not okay to fool around with them to no end." "I'm thinking I might come again," Charlie said. "I'd prefer to be a guy, though, but other than that, this hasn't been as bad as I thought." "Fantastic!" "Spike" exclaimed in excitement. "You're always welcome. By the way, I was serious about wanting to see you play Anya. I'm sure you'd nail her." "Speaking about nailing," Scott interrupted, "do you think those two are soon going to be, uh, done making out back there?" He pointed at the back room door with his thumb. "I'm going in next." "What for?" I asked him. "To make out. I'd like to make out with all of you. Boy or girl, girl or boy." "Some folks can't control their hormones, it seems," Charlie quipped, "and I don't mean only Larry. What is it that he and Tina are up to, anyway?" "I guess one thing's proven now," Jake mused and shrugged his shoulders. "Only faggots and sailors are called Lawrence." "Good point," I commented. "Maybe we should start calling him Gomer Pyle and PT him until he dies." "I'm fully aware I'll probably regret ever asking," "Angel" inquired, "but what did you mean by that?" "Oh, just kidding," I explained. "It's a line from that other great romantic comedy we like." "The one that's not 'Platoon'?" he asked with a smile, failing to contain his amusement entirely. "Yep," Jake affirmed. "There's plenty more, of course, but those two are pretty near the top of our list." "Glad to hear you guys are really soft at heart and so confident that you can confess to liking chick flicks," he laughed. "You'll make lovely girls, all of you." "Chick flicks," "Xander" muttered. "Right. Still not funny." "Lighten up, will you, Sammy?" Scott exclaimed and reached to tousle again the hair of the man who in actuality was his transformed girlfriend. The latter's eyes went wide at the same instant and he exclaimed, "Dammit! You're drunk, aren't you?" The remark was addressed to Scott, who simply looked back at the fake man and mumbled, feigning (poorly) total innocence and ignorance, "Who? Me?" "Yes, you!" "Xander" said. "I can smell your breath a mile away, you slur words and your eyes have that drunken glow! What have you had?" "Nothing," "Dawn" lied and shook her head. "Nn-nada." Of course, this denial was as implausible as implausible can be, and I was amazed that it hadn't registered in Sammy's mind before that her boyfriend was clearly under the influence, especially after his characteristic fooling around on the dancefloor. "Now that you mentioned it," "Angel" continued, "I think this warrants further investigation. Buffy, exhale towards me." After hesitating for a while, I blew some air at his face. I hadn't had a lot to drink, but I knew from my experience that the smell caught on easily and would probably betray me. "No doubt about it," he concluded. "Seems the little sister has generously offered a gulp or two to our leading lady." "W-what on earth makes you think we have alcohol here?" Scott pretended to wonder and gave a cross-eyed look to "Xander". "Even if my breath smells a little of whiskey, I---" "Okay, fine," Jake said. "We had a little drink together. What's so terrible about that?" "I'm not saying you absolutely shouldn't drink," "Spike" replied, "but it's just not a very good idea when you're wearing a skinsuit. Mandy says that there can be all kinds of little problems if you put a skin on and then get wasted." "We never drink at these sessions," "Xander" said emphatically. "It's a matter of principle to us, even when we don't have the suits on. Alcohol is not good for you--simple as that. I don't need it to have fun, and I really don't understand people who can't so much as have a nice little Halloween party with their friends unless they're totally smashed." He cast a pointed look at Scott. "No matter how hard I try, I don't seem to be getting the message through to certain people. I mean, was it truly necessary to bring booze here and then try to ruin the whole event for everybody? You almost pulled it off, Dawn." "To be honest," Scott explained, "I didn't bring it all here." "Meaning?" "Meaning that I, yes, right, indeed, I started drinking before we left your place," he declared with what appeared to be pride in his achievement. "Prey tell, how's that supposed to make it any better?" "Xander" snapped but did not receive a reply. Scott was clearly processing his own statement and perhaps trying to find out if he could actually make some sense of it himself. "I have a suggestion," "Spike" said after a silence of several seconds. "I don't know if it's safe to get her out of her skin when she's in that condition, so let's take her outside and walk her around a bit. The fresh air will help clear her head." "And another thing," "Xander" added. "There's a stash somewhere, and we need to find it and confiscate it to make sure she doesn't drink any more. It has to be out in the yard because we haven't seen it here. Where's the flashlight?" "I think it's in the bathroom cupboard," "Angel" replied. "I'll go get it." With this, the fake men got up on their feet. "Xander" motioned Scott to follow, which he did, and they went out of the main door, with "Angel" and "Spike" bringing up the rear. One of them flipped a switch that was set in the wall near the door frame, turning on the yard lamp outside. "Come to think of it," Jake said, "the air really is just a little stale in here. I think I'll go and have some unused oxygen as well." "I'll keep you company," Charlie offered. "What about you, Mike? Care to join us?" "No, I'll wait here," I replied and took a more comfortable position on the sofa. "When you guys get back, I'm going to ask Kate to let me have the sneakers she brought for me. The less I have to walk in these boots, the better." "Okay then." Only a minute or so after the others had disappeared outside, the back room door opened and "Faith" walked in. In passing, I noticed that her hair was now slightly mussed. She was all smiles as she sat right next to me, crossed her legs and said, "Wow! Now that's what I call a workout!" "What do you mean?" I inquired, being polite rather than interested. "Sex," she said bluntly. I had to swallow hard before I could ask her, "You mean you just had sex?" "Sure," she smiled and continued, stretching her arms and legs slowly and sensually, "and damn if it didn't feel fantastic! I can kinda see why you went out with that guy, B. He's a real warrior in the sack, way better than that sorry excuse for a man I had yesterday." "What? Is this a joke or something?" "No joke. I meant what I said. Hey, you don't mind, do you? I've been hearing you guys are no longer together. By the way, who are you doing these days? Can't be Angel, 'cause he still seems to have his soul, so... Spike, maybe?" I stared "Faith" in the eyes in utter disbelief, but she seemed totally unfazed and kept smiling slyly. Of course, there was the possibility that Larry was merely testing my reaction to news like this, but he seemed sincere and, seeing how he had evidently lost most of his inhibitions in his new female form, it was conceivable that he had actually done what he claimed. "That's... kind of perverted, considering the circumstances," I said. "Why did you do it?" "'Why did you do it?'" she mocked me. "'Why, oh why?' You'd better have your head checked, Buffy, if you honestly can't understand why I'd like to fuck his brains out. I mean, come on! He's a hunk! Bet you're just jealous because I got to have him first. But don't worry. You can still score with somebody tonight. The evening's young, as they say. Just put out a little more." "Wait a minute. Was this supposed to happen? Did you---?" "Hey, now I know!" she said and pretended to brighten up. "You're Buffybot, aren't you? When they put you back together, they screwed up your programming and now you're the exact opposite of what you used to be. You know, negative instead of positive, sulking instead of happy, and a total priss. Yeah, that's probably it. Still, I have to admit, you had me fooled for a while there." "Cut the crap!" I said angrily. "Look, I want to talk to you out of character. Is that okay with you?" "Oh, fine," she sighed dramatically. "Let's talk then, if we must." "Great. So, Larry, did you really have sex with Tina back there? Honestly?" "His name is Riley, but yes, Mike, yes I did. Can we go back to our roles now?" "What the hell's going on? Have you gone mad? I mean, even more mad?" "On the contrary, sweetheart. I've always appreciated a good fuck, but sex as a female is the best thing I've ever tried in my life. It's incredibly addictive when you're in this body. How about you? Have you already done it?" "Had sex as a woman? No!" "In that case, you'd better not judge me. You definitely should try it too; it's going to blow your mind. But you've fingered yourself a couple of times to orgasm, right?" "Of course not!" "Oh God, what a prude!" "Faith" exclaimed in a sincerely incredulous tone. "Really! Aren't you even curious about it? And you've got the nerve to claim I'm the one with the loose screws!" "I don't think these skins were made to be some kind of kinky sex toys," I said. "And I think you're nuts. Do you know what you need?" "What?" "Cock. You need cock. You need a big, hunky guy with a huge tool to fuck you so hard and long you can barely walk afterwards. That should make you loosen up a little. You're wrapped way too tight for your own good." "Thanks, but no thanks," I said and stood up. I had come to the conclusion that I, too, had to get some fresh air--preferably immediately. "You don't know what you're missing out on, B," "Faith" called after me, reverting to speaking entirely in character. "The feeling when his gorgeous hard dick is buried deep in your soaking wet and hot pussy, making its way even deeper--it hurts, but it feels so good you don't want it to stop! You want to take it all in, you want him inside of you, and you're on fire from head to toe and screaming his name as you explode---" I walked out the door and slammed it shut behind me. I was planning to take a nice relaxing walk to the shore of the lake and back, breathe the cool air, listen to the silence and forget all about Larry, but as I turned around I almost trampled on Scott who was sitting on the second step. All of the others were also standing around in the light circle of the yard lamp, with "Xander" holding a now empty whiskey bottle in his hand as if he were handling evidence at a crime scene. I sincerely hoped the girls had poured the rest of the beverage into the ground, instead of Scott having drunk everything himself; considering how low a tolerance his Dawn Summers body probably had for alcohol, he could be in for a trip to the nearest hospital if the latter was the case. Noticing me, Scott raised his sparkling eyes and said, stammering a little more than before, "Oh, how nice to s-see you, sis! We've been waiting f-for ya." He tried to hug my legs, but I stepped aside. "How's it going out here?" I asked the others. "Your kid sister is not being as cooperative as we'd hoped and is refusing to walk, but we did find that whiskey bottle of hers," "Spike" replied for Scott. "Do you know if there is a spare stash somewhere?" "He told us something to that effect," I remarked, "but I can't say for sure. By the way, a news flash from the great indoors. Larry told me he and Tina just had sex." Everybody was speechless for a while as my words sunk in. Jake was the first to recover, moaning, "Good Lord! Why can't we have normal people as friends, just like everyone else? Why us?" "Are you sure?" "Spike" asked me. "I didn't witness the act," I said, "but Larry's sitting in the hall looking blissful and bragging about the experience." "This is getting a little too wild," "Angel" said. "I think we'd better have a word with them both. Their skins may be malfunctioning. I mean, what they do is basically their own business, but this is way out of the ordinary. Something might be wrong." "Something has been wrong for a while, if you ask me," Jake commented. A worried look appeared on Charlie's face, and he asked in a tone that betrayed a fair amount of anxiousness, "What exactly happens if you have sex in a skin?" "We don't know for certain," "Angel" told him. "I don't think any of us has ever tried it for real, but I believe Mandy would definitely have warned us about it if it was dangerous somehow." "I wasn't... I don't necessarily mean actual sex between two persons," Charlie went on. "What if you just get an orgasm? What happens then?" "As in if you masturbate and then cum?" "Well... yeah." Jake brightened up at that instant. A wide, triumphant smile came onto his new, pretty face, and he shouted, "Busted! I knew it! I just knew it!" Charlie was indignant at his reaction. "What do you mean, busted? I'm only interested---" "That's what you were doing in Tina's bathroom when you locked yourself up in there for hours! Ha ha ha!" "I wasn't masturbating!" Charlie denied angrily. "You most definitely were! Whenever you came out of the bathroom, your face was flush and your eyes were glazed over. I wondered what the hell was going on but now I know for certain! Ha ha ha ha!" "Quit being an asshole, will you?" "Hey, take it easy," "Angel" said emphatically. "It's alright. There's absolutely no harm in having orgasms when you're wearing a skin. It's perfectly safe." "Hear that?" Jake continued his rejoicing. "You can go explore the old Botany Bay to your heart's content!" "Shut the fuck up, you idiot!" Charlie hissed at Jake and mimed a punch to the latter's arm as a threat. "Ladies!" "Angel" chided and stepped physically between the two. "Let's calm down now. I'd hate for this lovely party to be ruined because you guys come to blows over nothing." "I wasn't masturbating," Charlie repeated through gritted teeth but failed to sound very convincing. Jake was still grinning, but he had the sense to keep his mouth shut. My sister, still clad in "Angel's" body, made a beeline for the door and went up the steps. As she was about to pass me and Scott by, I said to her, "I know this is not very high on your priority list, but if it's not too much trouble, could I have the sneakers now?" "The sneakers?" she asked absentmindedly. "Oh, right. Your shoes. I don't think you're going to need them. We'll probably change out of the skins pretty soon anyway, so you can keep the boots on until then." "How soon exactly?" I tried to question her, but she slipped past and entered the house. "Sounds like a plan," Jake said and wrapped his arms around his own body to keep warm. "Let's go inside and get changed." "Yeah, it's a bit chilly here," "Xander" agreed. "But as for the getting changed part--that's up to us, so don't jump ahead of things." "What?" Charlie exclaimed. "Honestly, don't you think we've had enough of these humiliation and dress-up games for tonight?" "They've only got your best interests in mind, Chardelia," Jake said with a grin that was as devilish as Willow's face could muster. "From what I gather, you're well on your way to discovering your inner woman, and---" "Watch it!" Charlie warned him sternly. At this point I was distracted. Scott, who was still sitting on the step, had suddenly started fondling and caressing my legs for no apparent reason. He did have a tendency to seek friendly physical contact with other people when he was drunk, but this was bordering on erotic. Pushing his hands away, I asked him in a demanding tone, "What the hell are you doing?" "Sh-showing my affection towards my big sister," he slurred. "Gimme a hug, Buffy!" "Don't you start anything," I warned him. "We already have two nutcases on our hands. Or more, depending on how you count them." "Come on!" he pleaded with a mischievous smile. "How about some lesbian action when we get home?" "Absolutely not!" "Love is in the air," "Spike" remarked and drew a laugh out of us, even though Charlie's mirth and mine were somewhat half-hearted due to his embarrassment and my frustration with both Scott and the boots. Once back inside the house, we were greeted by "Faith" and "Angel", the former lounging on the couch and the latter standing next to her, with a thoughtful look on his face. "Faith", in contrast to her company, still seemed completely content and carefree, enjoying the remnants of her post-coital bliss. "What's the word?" "Spike" asked. "Tina's gone MIA," "Angel" reported. "She apparently took off while we were outside but left her car there." "Yeah, Riley has some important stuff to do elsewhere," "Faith" added. "Like what?" Jake piped up. "I don't know," the dark-haired fake girl said and stretched her arms. "He didn't say. Anyways, he told me to say there's no need to worry for him. He'll show up again when he's done." "Where did he go?" "Xander" inquired in turn. "Didn't say that either. It's not our problem. He'll take care of himself." The matter was obviously settled, as far as "Faith" was concerned. She flashed a smile at us and then began to study her fingernails with feigned interest. "I'll call her first thing tomorrow," "Spike" promised, and the other two fake men nodded in agreement. He went on to announce, "Okay, folks. Despite the little hiccups and drama, this has been overall a pretty nice party in my opinion. However, it's almost one o'clock, and I think we should soon call it a night. We, the real girls, are going to unmask first, and then we'll help you guys out of your skins. Yes, I know you just hate the idea, but it's time to take the suits back to Mandy. Right, see you as someone else soon." With that and one last smile, he turned around, disappeared into the back room and closed the door behind him. Jake, Charlie and I had sat down on the chairs at the dinner table, and "Angel" joined us now, asking, "So, guys, are you relieved? It's all over in a few minutes." Before I could answer, Jake spoke up. "About damn time too. I can't wait to get out of this body." "You're not fooling anyone," Charlie said with a smirk. "Come on, we know you actually love being a girl." "And just how do you figure that?" Jake shot back. "Easy. You complained too much. When we were at Tina's, you were constantly moaning about this and that, having to wear a skirt, having to wear a bra, having to paint your fingernails, having to wear makeup. It was all an act, and a pretty transparent one at that." "Come to think of it, you complained too little! Now, what does that tell us? And that literary composition of yours was--how should I put it?--revealing." "Girls, girls!" I interrupted them, imitating the tone of voice "Riley" had used at the start of the party. "You are both beautiful. Don't start a catfight here." "Y-you know," Scott commented, "I've been thinking, guys. I think I ought to go, um, lesbian. It sure s-sounds f-fun. We'd make a great couple, me and... Shammy." "Xander" half winced and half grinned but didn't say anything. "You do that," Charlie encouraged him. "By the way, do you think you guys would be game for a little threesome every now and then?" "And now it comes out!" Jake laughed. "Not only do you want to be a girl, but---" "I didn't mean threesome with me as a girl, mind you," Charlie corrected. "Oh, sure you didn't, Cordelia! Like we believe that!" This bickering was as far from serious as possible. The prospect of finally regaining our original physical forms had filled us with joy, so much so that none of us had had this much fun in ages. "Angel", who no longer had to maintain his role, shared our happiness and commented, "It's really too bad you didn't have that attitude all the time, guys. This evening could have been just fantastic from the get-go for everyone!" "You could have allowed us to drink a beer or two, if nothing else," I said. "It would have helped, assuming giving us our testicles back wasn't an option." "I bet that's what kept bothering you the whole evening," "Angel" laughed. "But you should know that all kinds of things start to happen when girls get drunk. We would've had trouble trying to keep your hands off of our butts. And besides, it seems little Dawnie got her fair share anyway." My cousin, who now inhabited the body of a teenage girl, let out a burp and smiled at "Angel", not even trying to cover up his obvious inebriation anymore. "Faith", who had been quietly watching our fun from across the room, walked to the table, pulled out a vacant chair and sat down right next to us. Our cheerfulness seemed to die out almost entirely at that instant; it was like the room temperature had suddenly dropped by twenty degrees. For nearly half a minute, nobody said anything. To break the awkward silence, Charlie finally began, "So, Larry, are you ready to shed your skin?" "Faith" turned to look at us with an expression that was something between a sneer and a smile. She said, "Who says I have to take the suit off now? Don't you think that's totally up to me?" "Well, I just thought... Uh, never mind." "Besides, stop calling me Larry, guys. Do you see Larry Simmons or anyone else named Larry here anywhere? I think not." "We're not playing the game anymore, so you don't have to keep up that role, you know," I told her. "What makes you think the game is over?" she retorted. "We've still got a couple of interesting scenes left." "To be honest," I said, "you're not making much sense anymore. Would you mind kindly explaining to us, preferably in plain language, what exactly you're on about?" "You'll find out," "Faith" said, her lips curving up to a mischievous smile. "Just you wait, guys." Meanwhile, Joanna had emerged from the back room, this time as herself. Without the Spike skin she was a medium-height brunette with a cute face and overall average body build--not skinny, but nicely proportioned and somewhat curvy. Her shiny hair was straight and long, falling on her shoulders. Besides, it seemed to be perfectly clean and untangled, which was contrary to what I had expected after her wearing a skinsuit (and she couldn't have showered in the meantime), but perhaps this was yet another peculiar feature of the suits. Gone were the Spike clothes, too; she was dressed in casual blue jeans and a black blouse. Joanna and Kate were fairly close friends, but I was not very familiar with the former. The first time I saw Joanna had been a few years ago when I had driven her and Kate home from a nightclub in Chesterton, the neighboring larger town. They had both been under 18 at the time, but they had managed to get in nevertheless and were slightly drunk when I finally came to pick them up. Joanna had laughed at some joke of mine during the ride, and I had felt a little bit attracted to her. Of course, there was nothing I could do as she was underage at the time and probably out of my league anyway. The bittersweet memory made me crack a faint smile. "Alright," she said. "The room's free. Who goes next?" "I think I will," "Angel" decided. "Sammy, why don't you come too. I'll give you a hand." "I wonder what else," Scott added devilishly as both "Angel" and "Xander" exited the room and closed the door behind themselves. I, being the curious soul that I am, kept staring at the door and tried to find out, by listening carefully, what was going on in the adjoining room. I wondered what the transformation looked and sounded like; so far I had only experienced one, my own, and I had no idea how an outside observer might describe it. It would have been interesting to know if there were perhaps weird shape changes and squishy sounds, or if the transformee's body became a gelatinous blob for a short while and then assumed a new form, like in some science fiction movies. On the other hand, maybe it was best not to know all the details, I thought. After tonight, I would have nothing more to do with these skins as long as I lived. After some four or five minutes the door opened, and Kate's head appeared in the doorway. "Alright, who's next?" she asked. "Larry?" "No, I'm good," "Faith" called back. "I'll take care of myself." "How about Charlie?" Joanna suggested. "He's first in the alphabetic order and he's been a good girl, relatively speaking." "Okay then. Charlie, your turn!" Charlie didn't need a second invitation. Smiling broadly, he stood up, winked at the rest of us and said, "Well, it was fun while it lasted. See you guys after my de-Cordeliazation." "Lucky bastard!" I said jokingly. Actually I felt like cheering for him as he walked gracefully through the door and waved us a theatrical goodbye. That was going to be the last we would see of "Cordelia Chase" that night. "I'll go after him," Jake declared. "Says who?" I challenged him. "You've caused more trouble than I have. Besides, you look a lot cuter that way." "Don't you have an apocalypse to stop or something, Buffy?" I had opened my mouth to deliver a comment about Jake's eliminated weight problem when the door suddenly opened again and out walked Charlie--but not as himself. He was still in his Cordelia form and matching clothes. This took us by surprise, so much so that Jake and I immediately forgot about our friendly little squabble. "What's this?" I asked. "I thought they were going to help you out of the costume." "Didn't happen, as you can see," "Cordelia" said and sat back down on the couch. "The girls told me to take my dress off, and then they looked at my back. That was it." "Hey, what's going on?" Jake demanded. "What's the deal?" "Mike, why don't you come here now," Kate called from the other room. "Well, here goes," I said as I stood up on my feet. "Here's to hoping I'll have more luck." The back room was considerably smaller than the main hall. There was a narrow bed, a counter, a couple of chairs and a number of closets next to the walls, together with a massive, ancient refrigerator. It was not immediately clear what purpose the room served; it probably functioned mainly as a storage space. I couldn't help but notice that the comforter and the bedsheets were crumpled--further evidence that "Faith" and "Riley" had indeed done what she claimed. The thought of sitting or laying on the very same fabric that they had had intercourse on felt more than a little disgusting to me. Kate's vacant Angel skin was sprawled on one of the chairs. For a moment I wondered if those things needed to be cleaned after use. I imagined my skinsuit going around in a washing machine and chuckled. The mental image became even funnier when I thought how our old washer would shred the cursed disguise to pieces. "Alright now," Kate said, "take your top off." "What for?" I asked. "Shouldn't I undress completely before the skin is removed?" "Yeah, but that can wait. Just take the top off, please. Then turn around." I complied. I suddenly felt quite cold as my skin was exposed, even though the room could not be much cooler than the main hall. As soon as I was topless, excluding the bra, Kate and Sammy stepped closer and started studying my back. One of them even lifted my bra straps with her finger, apparently in order to see what was under them. "What are you doing?" I inquired. "Just checking something," Kate said. "Keep still." "Uh oh," Sammy breathed. "Looks like a no-go." "What?" I asked again, growing more worried by the second. "Is something wrong?" "No, no," Kate claimed, but I knew her well enough to discern a clear tone of hesitation in her voice. "We just have to check this... Right, put it back on." "What the hell?" I exclaimed. This game was definitely starting to get on my nerves. I was anxious to get out of my skinsuit, and now the girls obviously refused to help me for some reason. It had already occurred to me that the skins were possibly malfunctioning in some way, but I did my best to keep all the terrifying thoughts at bay and tried to convince myself that this was likely a minor glitch, assuming there was a problem in the first place. At any rate, I needed to know what was keeping me from transforming back into a man. "It's nothing, really," Kate said quickly. "All you have to do is wait a moment. Everything's going to be alright. Now, go back there and ask Jake or Scott to come here." Jake gave me a crooked, melancholic smile as I reentered the hall. "You're up next," I told him. "What did they do?" he asked. "The same thing as with Charlie. They looked at my back. I'm sensing a trend here." "Weird," he muttered and walked into the other room, closing the door behind him. His stay there turned out to be even shorter than mine; I had barely sat back down when all three girls, Kate, Sammy and "Willow", rejoined the rest of us. The looks on their faces told me everything necessary. "Scott," Sammy announced, "we need to check you as well." "Huh?" the drunken teenager said. "Wha?" "Stand up and take your blouse off. Now." "No no no," he refused. "I'm not... I don't take my clothes off... just like that. I'm not that kind of g-girl." "Come on!" Sammy ordered. "B-Buffy," he stammered, looking at me, "sis, tell that lady... that I'm not that kind of g-girl. I only like boysh." "Fine," Sammy sighed. "The hard way, then." "Hey, everybody! S-she's gonna take me the hard w-way!" Had it not been for Sammy's determination, we would have wasted the entire night trying to get Scott to do as he was told. She marched to Scott, grabbed the hem of his sweater and lifted it. Scott squealed, squirmed and giggled, yelling, "Whee! You're so bad, Shammy... You're so bad... Little lezz-bo! Hey!" "Uh," Sammy said when the inspection was over half a minute later, "nothing there, either." Scott gave her another cross-eyed look and smiled like an idiot. "Damn!" Joanna cussed. "This is getting complicated." "Someone, please tell us what's wrong!" Jake demanded, sounding alarmed. "What's going on?" "Alright," Joanna replied, with slight nervousness in her voice. "Here's the deal, guys. When you put a skin on, a dark spot, a bit like a bruise, appears on your back, usually a few inches above waistline. At first it's perfectly round and almost black, about the size of a dime, but as time passes, it starts to fade and shrink. To be frank, I don't know for sure what it really is, but that's not relevant now. Anyway, it works like a release button. When you want out of the skin, you press the spot with your fingers for a while, like ten seconds or so, and then the transformation starts to reverse. In the end, the skin opens up and you can simply step out. I did that to my skin, Kate and Sammy did the same to theirs, and here we are." She took a deep breath and continued, "I don't want any of you to freak out, so brace yourselves. Your spots are gone. We looked as carefully as we could but they just weren't there." My mind went completely numb upon hearing those words. I consciously understood that what Joanna had just said could have meant the end of my life as I had known it, but my brain simply refused to believe the news and shut out all emotions and thoughts. I could only sit and stare in front of me, waiting for whatever was to come next. "This isn't as bad as it sounds," Kate hurried to continue for her friend. "Joanna once wore the Willow skin for two days, and her spot vanished almost entirely, but there is a way to bring it back. We are prepared for this, so don't worry. In fact, we knew this could happen, as you have been in your skins for several days." "So what's the cure?" Charlie asked anxiously. "Well, it's simple, really. All you need is---" "Sorry for interrupting," "Faith" piped up, "but I have an announcement to make." "Oh, can't you just shut up!" Jake exclaimed. "It's not like we need a speech right here and now!" "I think you do," "Faith" said coldly and stood up. In a dramatic silence, she walked to the middle of the floor and let her eyes slowly circle the room. Holding her hands behind her back, she began: "First off, I want to thank you girls. Joanna, Kate, Sammy--you have been great to me and I love you with all my heart. Mandy and Tina aren't here now, but Mandy deserves my thanks for making these fantastic skins and Tina for just being there for me. Wearing a skin has been a true eye-opener for me. I have realized what I've been missing out on all these years. I always felt there was something wrong with me, something that made me feel incomplete no matter what I did. But that's all over, and everything's finally right. I have found my path." "Please get on with it so we can go home," I said impatiently. "And so," she continued, paying no attention to me, "I want you guys to be the first to hear this. Lawrence William Simmons doesn't exist anymore. From now on, there's only Leslie Faith Elizabeth Simmons--me." Jake and I tried to laugh, but the laughter died on our lips before it could even begin. Larry was evidently serious, and he simply ignored our reaction. Now everyone was gazing at him, the real and the synthetic girls alike, and it seemed that the former were even more shocked than the latter. After another dramatic pause, Larry alias Leslie continued, "Leslie would have been my given name, had I been born a girl as I should have. My parents told me that once. Faith is in honor of this fabulous character whom I've had the privilege to play tonight and with whom I identify; and lastly Elizabeth comes from my grandmother. There you have it. However, you can just call me Leslie." "You... you mean you're going to keep the skin on forever?" Kate asked incredulously. "Yep," Larry beamed. "I was always supposed to be a woman, and now I am. It's as simple as that." "Whatever, you little faggot," Jake grunted in low voice, just loud enough for Larry to hear. "What was that?" Larry--Leslie--asked rhetorically. "Faggot? Guys, guys, that's not very nice, is it?" She feigned a sad smile. "You know, I didn't expect much support from you, but this is just pathetic. Not that I'm surprised, but still, it's disappointing to see that you have remained at that low level of maturity all these years. You made fun of me back in school, you laughed at me when I came out, you spread rumors about me, and that's still the way it goes." The smug and confident tone of Leslie's voice could only barely conceal her genuine anger and bitterness as she went on, "You failed me when I needed you the most, guys. What are friends for, Mike? Charlie? Jake? Anyone? Were we friends? Can't you remember how we used to hang out at my place and play? You had glasses, Jake, so did I make fun of you? And you, Mike, you had to wear braces! Did I laugh at you because of that? Since when has it been a crime to be different?" Leslie quickly wiped off a tiny tear that was running down her cheek, smearing her makeup a little. "Guys, I was really looking forward to this evening. I thought we could reconcile, even though I knew the chance was slim. We could have had a great time together, and for a short time it almost seemed like the partying and fun part would work, but now you are once again showing your true hater colors. I should have known you can't handle my transitioning, or anything about me. And your effort at roleplaying was pretty lame at best." "We were practically forced to come," I said, choosing not to comment on anything but the accusation having to do with roleplaying as I didn't want to exacerbate the situation. "If you organize a Buffy party, make sure you only invite Buffy fans. It's not my fault that I'm not a fan. Besides, I don't enjoy crossdressing." "Jesus Christ, what a brilliant excuse to behave like an asshole!" Leslie exclaimed. "You were 'forced to come!' Nobody forced you, Mike! And wearing that skinsuit will do you nothing but good! A woman's point of view and an open mind is just what you guys need, believe me. And as far as that crossdressing thing goes, I'm not that sure about you not enjoying it." Turning to Jake, she continued her outburst, "And you; I bet this all just pisses you off too. How does it feel to be living in the body of a gay Jewish girl when you're a misogynistic, homophobic Nazi? Now that's what I call poetic justice! You were the worst of all, making my life a living hell for three years, so I can't say I really sympathize with you if you get stuck in that skin for the rest of your life. To tell you the truth, I sincerely and full- heartedly hope that will happen!" "You're way out of line!" Joanna rebuked. "You really shouldn't be saying things like that here!" "Right, fine," Leslie said, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry, Joanna. Honestly. I couldn't control myself." "Anyway," Kate began again, "about the cure. Mandy makes a special potion which, when you rub some on your back, ought to make the spot grow larger and darker so it's easier to find. We have some of the potion here in case of emergencies like this. It's in an old vodka bottle with no label on." "Like this one?" Leslie asked. From seemingly out of nowhere, she had produced a clear glass bottle that contained some greenish liquid, and was now holding it up for all to see. Evidently she had been keeping it behind her back during her speech, but how she had gotten hold of it in the first place and then concealed it was a total mystery to me. Perhaps the girls had left the bottle somewhere and Leslie had simply discovered and then taken it. However, I could imagine what she was about to do next, and the thought chilled me. We all stood up, but we were so dumbstruck and frightened by this turn of events that we could only stay put and stare; none of us even tried to make a move to wrest the bottle from her until it was too late. "That's right, people," she said and smirked. "This is it. I thought long and hard about what to do with this thing when I first found it and realized what it was. For a while there I actually considered letting you guys have this potion after all, but our little conversation just now clinched it for me. Jake, Charlie and Mike, you need a lesson. Maybe not all that's wrong with your personalities is because you grew up to be men, but I'm pretty sure that in time, reducing your sperm count to zero for good will take care of a whole lot of shit." Leslie walked to the front door, opened it and turned around to flash us a triumphant smile. "Have a nice life, girls!" she sang out, swung her arm and released the bottle, which flew into the night. She stepped outside, vanishing like a shadow in a heartbeat, and simultaneously the faint sound of glass breaking carried from somewhere nearby. Charlie was the first to regain his ability to move and speak. "Motherfucker!" he screamed at the top of his lungs and ran to the door. "You fucking piece of shit! Get back here!" I joined him and peered out, but there was no sign of Leslie anywhere, only darkness. "Goddamn, did you see what the little cocksucker just did?" I exclaimed in anger and disbelief, turning to look at the others in the room. "He smashed the bottle! For fuck's sake, can you believe that?" "That was his death warrant, right there!" Jake accompanied us. "This means war. This means a fucking jihad, starting right now!" "That's exactly what this means!" I concurred. "If one of you guys can give me a ride, I'll go get my .22 caliber pistol," Jake suggested with a sudden chilly calmness. "Then we'll hunt him down, and I'll put a slug or two right into---" "Guys, seriously!" Kate interrupted. "Shame on you for talking like that! You honestly think violence is going to solve this problem?" "It won't solve the problem," I explained, "but it'll remove the problem. We'll settle for that." "Oh yeah, witty. Very witty. Once your testosterone moment is over, you might want to listen to us." "What for?" Charlie asked. "For some good advice," Sammy said sternly. "Before you do anything incredibly stupid, be aware that this isn't the end of the world." "Yeah, right," I sneered. "Is this the part where you three preach to us how fantastic it is to be a woman and how sweet, gentle and pretty is so much better than rough, tough and manly?" "No, but it really is starting to seem you do need some sort of enlightenment!" she retorted. "What I was trying to say is that we have some more potion in store, and in addition to that, Mandy can always make more. You will be men again, but it'll take a little more time, that's all." "I think I may have some antidote back home," Kate said. "I could call Mom and ask her to bring the bottle here, but I doubt she could find it." "In my opinion," Joanna announced, "we should all go home as we are now, sleep the night over and start solving this mess first thing tomorrow. It won't hurt you guys to spend a few more hours in those skins, and I for one am too tired to think straight anymore." "That's a good idea," Kate agreed. "What do you think, guys?" "I guess we don't have much of a choice," I said with resignation. "To be honest, I'm pretty tired myself." "Fine," Jake spoke up. "It's just that my folks may be back home by now, and I'd rather not go there looking like this, unless I have to." "You can crash at our house," Kate offered. "Right, Mike?" "Yeah, sure." "By the way," Charlie said, "where's Scott?" We had been too busy dealing with Leslie to remember to look after my feminized and intoxicated cousin, and now, sure enough, he was not in the room anymore. He had managed to leave without anyone noticing, probably just before Leslie made her speech, I reasoned and cursed under my breath. There was no way we could let him wander around in his Dawn form, which meant that we had to organize a search party post haste. "Great," Sammy sighed. "He always does that when he's drunk. One minute he's sitting right here, the next he gets a sudden impulse to go somewhere without explanation." "Alright, who goes to look for him?" Kate asked. "I will," I heard myself say before I had even finished thinking about it. "Anybody want to come with me?" "Me," Jake piped up. "At least we'll get some fresh air. I need to vent out some excess energy." "It's settled then," Joanna decided. "Mike and Jake search for Scott, and meanwhile we clean the place up." "When we're done here, I'll call Mom to drive us home," Kate told me. "As soon as you have found Scott, call my cell and someone will come to pick you guys up." "Fine. Kate, would you mind giving me the sweater and the sneakers?" "Just a sec." On my personal agenda there remained one small but important item to be taken care of. As I was pulling the soft sweater on and then, at long last, changed into the comfortable sneakers, I tried to think of a way to handle the issue without causing any more grief to anyone. There certainly had been no shortage of acrimony at the party tonight, and I felt it was high time I at least tried to fix some of the damage done. "Uh, Joanna?" I said. "Could I have a word with you in private?" "Sure," she replied. I grabbed my jacket from the hook and put it on as I went out the door, Joanna following me. I knew we probably were not out of earshot from the others just standing near the steps, but I didn't want to make Joanna walk with me all the way to the shore of the lake. "Look," I began somewhat awkwardly, "I think I owe you an apology." "What for?" she asked. "For the way we guys behaved tonight. I know I was a bit of a jerk at times, as were Jake and Charlie and certainly Scott. I'm sorry if we hurt your feelings." "Oh, I didn't expect this," Joanna said and chuckled. Luckily it was so dark outside she couldn't see me blush once again. "You do have some pretty good manners after all. That's nice to learn." "Yeah, well," I stammered, "I felt I really should say it. We're not really that moronic. It was just the situation you put us in. You know us men, don't you? We tend to get sort of insecure without our balls." We both laughed, and then Joanna reached around me and hugged me. I was slightly hesitant at first but then relaxed and returned the hug. "It's alright," she said. "All's forgiven! Your little antics didn't fool me for one second. I knew there was a good girl inside of you trying to get out. And honestly, I don't think you guys were all that bad anyway. The roleplay was an absolute blast, the best I've ever had." "A-hah!" Jake's voice exclaimed behind me. "What's going on here?" "Nothing special," Joanna answered in a playful tone as we broke the embrace. "Can't two girls hug and maybe kiss a little if they're really good friends?" "I'd better go," I laughed, "before Jake gets all sorts of funny ideas." "You do that. Good luck finding the lost sheep." "Thanks! We'll need it. And thank you very much for the party. It was fun, honestly." "Don't mention it. Bye then!" "Bye, Joanna." "Bye, and... uh, thanks," Jake said. Joanna flashed us one last smile and went back indoors. Our overall situation was admittedly somewhat bleak. I would still be stuck as a virtually identical clone of Sarah Michelle Gellar for some time, maybe even several days, and Dad might well come home before my original form could be restored. My friends were in similar condition, and Scott had gone missing. To top it all off, Larry/Leslie/Faith had effectively declared a personal war on us. Despite all this, I actually felt almost good; I had made up with Joanna, and at least she wouldn't bear a grudge against me or my friends. It was quite likely that Mandy would soon bring us some more of that potion of hers to solve our problem with the skins, and besides, the party was now over and I wouldn't have to endure Kate's training or being called "Buffy" anymore. This uncharacteristic wave of optimism and cheerfulness downright surprised me, and for a moment I wondered whether or not it was the first sign of my mental health slipping away. For some peculiar reason, the thought amused me, and I let out a quiet chuckle. "What's so funny?" Jake inquired. He had put on a warm jacket and he now walked up to me with his hands in the pockets. "My own insanity," I said. "I see. Did it take you this long to realize you're not all there, so to speak?" "It's hard to tell who's crazy and who's not when I hang out with people like you and Charlie. I'm not that weird compared to you two." "Joking aside," Jake said, "where do you think we should start the search? You don't think he's fallen into the lake, do you?" "I hope not. He wasn't quite that drunk, and we can't really start dragging the waters for the body right now. By the way, he came here pretty early, and you did too, right?" "Right. Tina drove me and Charlie." "Did he--I mean Scott--talk about going to see his other friends some time after the party, or something else like that? It could be helpful." "I don't believe he mentioned that, but he did say he had hidden a six pack of beer somewhere around here. The issue came up again when he offered us some of that Scotch, remember?" "Yeah, it did. It's typical for him to hide bottles here and there to keep his folks and Sammy from confiscating them whenever he feels like drinking for real. The Fourth of July two years ago springs to mind as an example. He and I ended up crawling around in the woods by the main road, sloshed as hell and looking for a fifth of vodka he had deposited there as his emergency reserve." "Did you find the bottle?" "No, and that was just as well. It wasn't like we really needed any more booze at that point, and the ride home on my bike with Scott sitting in the back was challenging enough without it." "Fun times, eh? Well, since you put it that way, we might assume he went to look for his beer stash." "Chances are he did. I think we'd better start here and then move to the road and walk towards the town. We might bump into him on the way." "The road's not good." "What do you mean?" "Someone might see us." "True, but after all, it's Halloween. I bet there are stranger-looking creatures running around tonight, and what's more, it's pretty dark. We only need to make sure no one gets a good look at our faces." "Whatever you say." Scott obviously wasn't anywhere in the immediate vicinity, so we made our way to the main road walking slowly. Every once in a while we stopped and called his name but heard no answer. We could only hope he hadn't strayed far from the driveway since neither shouting loudly enough to wake the whole town nor combing the bushes without flashlights seemed like an appealing idea. After some five minutes we were standing on the side of the road, not having seen a single sign of my cousin. I was starting to feel anxious again. We had been securely hidden from the eyes of other people in the confines of the Benton house, and even the darkness on the driveway had felt safe as it had protected us, but now we were about to enter a place where we could be seen by anyone. It was late, but there was always some traffic on the road; at least a few cars would definitely go past us before we would get close to the town center. There, of course, things would be much worse, thanks to the streetlights. However, finding Scott was more important than anything else at the time, and so I took off towards the town with Jake in company. Less than a minute later the first car went past, coming from behind us. We kept walking casually and tried to turn our faces away from the headlights. As was to be expected, nothing out of ordinary happened. The driver, who was going slightly over the speed limit, didn't even slow down. I instinctively relaxed a little, and Jake probably did the same. "By the way," I said, breaking the silence, "where do you think Larry went?" "My guess is he's at home or going there," Jake said, "to watch his favorite gay male porn movie and masturbate to it. He must be laughing now, the disgusting fucker." "I hope for his sake and ours that we don't run into him tonight." "Why? I'd love to beat the shit out of him right now." "But wouldn't it feel weird to hit a girl?" I wondered. "Even though--- " "Just to remind you, my friend, we're just guys in drag, and so is Larry," Jake interrupted. "That makes it all good as far as I'm concerned." "I was coming to that," I continued, "but still. I've never hit a woman in my life." "Me neither, but Larry is not really a woman. You can hit him. And while you're at it, you can go the whole hog and blow his brains out with my pistol. I'll be glad to lend it to you." "The idea sounds kind of tempting, but it is too bad that the police and every court in this country will probably regard Larry as a human being and we'd get the same sentence for shooting him as we would for shooting a normal person." "Yep, it's too bad." There didn't seem to be anything more to say about Larry at that time, and the conversation paused for a moment. I was relieved, though; I knew Jake well enough to understand that a mere quarter of an hour earlier, he might have actually done something drastic before taking time to reconsider. Of course, I have to admit that I had been nearly as angry as him, but I usually regained control over my emotions a little faster than Jake. At least he was obviously not entirely serious in his planning to kill Larry/Leslie anymore, which was comforting to know. After a couple of minutes we reached the first street lamp and had to step into its light cone. I felt visible to the whole world and wished that the lights would malfunction as they occasionally did in this town. To make matters worse, the first houses were not far away either. Several of them were built fairly close to the road and had large windows facing in that direction. As we passed them and instinctively hunched our shoulders to be as small and undetectable as possible, I realized I was wondering for the first time why anyone wanted to live that close to the main road and have an unobstructed field of view towards it. Were those homes or guardhouses, anyway? I imagined dozens of peering eyes following our every step behind each window, especially the dark ones, and suddenly, a voice shouting somewhere, "Hey! Look! It's those celebrities! Let's go get them!" Then all hell would break loose and we would be torn to pieces. I shuddered at the thought. I was surprised to hear Jake chuckle suddenly. I turned to him and asked, half whispering, "Do you think this is funny, or have you gone off the deep end too?" "Nah," he replied. "It's just that a thought occurred to me. Where's Stevie when we need him?" "What for?" "Remember the time when he broke into one of the streetlight fuse boxes and almost got fried in the process? Most of the town went dark at that instant!" "Yeah, that was some stunt, perhaps his best work. The whole box seemed to explode and sparks flew like crazy." "He simply did it, even though we were telling him not to. First he stole his dad's toolkit, and then---" "Yes, and I had to divert the old man's attention while Stevie sneaked out with the tools! To be honest, though, the guy has always been so clueless it didn't take all that much effort." "Oh man, how could I forget that little adventure? I mean, how could--- " We were so absorbed in our reminiscing about Stevie Hillwood that not only had we practically forgotten our anxiousness and were talking and laughing almost as loudly as we normally did, but we also failed to notice three figures in front of us until they were quite close. As they met under a street lamp, the light revealed that one of them was a tall and thin girl, another a short and plump old lady and the third a small dog on a leash. The girl with the brown hair stopped and called to the lady, "Good evening, Mrs. Asssh-ley!" Even before hearing the slurring voice I was certain that the "girl" was none other than Scott, and I had also feared that the lady with the dog might be Evelyn Ashley. Now I was proven correct, much to my distress, since I could anticipate what was to come next. "We've got to hurry," I told Jake. "No shit, Sherlock," he replied, and we picked up our walking pace considerably. Among the inhabitants of Greensville, Mrs. Ashley was definitely a prominent personality. She was a widow who lived with her dog in a well-kept white house near the town center and spent most of her time tending her beautiful small garden or participating in miscellaneous activities revolving around the local church. She was a living example of a schoolmarm with a relentless dedication to upholding the morales and manners of her fellow townsfolk by watching them and, whenever necessary, spreading rumors and writing to newspapers countless letters about the decay of values in the modern society. No annoying thing was too small for her to comment on, and most things other people did seemed to annoy her. She gave all the love she had left in her heart to her dog, a little pug that was very skinny for its breed but was evidently taken excellent care of nevertheless. The uneven yet dignified couple--the rotund woman in her gray trench coat and the bony dog--walked the streets twice a day and once a night, always taking precisely the same route. In short, Ashley was not someone Scott should have been socializing with right there and then, if at all. Mrs. Ashley turned her stout form towards Scott, who was still half a head taller than her, and said sharply, "Dear God! Look at yourself, young lady! Don't you know that being in such a shameful condition is not appropriate for a girl?" Scott, who was standing at an awkward angle and kept swaying slowly back and forth, stared at the old woman and asked her, "Mrs. Ashley, have you ever b-been really, really... drunk?" "I do not wish to discuss my personal life with strangers," Ashley snapped. "I am now," Scott continued. "Drunk, that ish. And it f-feels good." Before Ashley could say anything more, Scott bent down over the dog, nearly falling flat on his face in the process, and gushed, "Oh, you... poor little th-thing! Does sh-she eat all the food... and give you nothing?" The small pug just stared at the apparent unruly teenager and licked its snout while its mistress seemed to be ready to explode on the spot. Even though it was dark, I thought I could actually see her face go deep red. Without sparing her voice, she spat out angrily, "Have you no manners? This is just appalling! If you were my daughter, I'd spank you for your impudence!" "Ac-thu-ally," Scott slurred and took two quick steps to maintain his faltering balance, "I c-can let you in on a secret, Mrs. Ashley. I am not really... a girl, you sh-sh-see." "Well, what are you, then?" Evelyn Ashley asked pointedly. "I... am... a man. Th-this ish just a... um, Halloween costume. You see, I---" "There you are!" I interrupted, finally reaching Scott and grabbing him by his dainty girlish arm. "We thought you were lost! It's sleepytime, let's go home." "And just who might you be?" a surprised Mrs. Ashley asked me. "Her sister," I explained quickly. "Dawn has had a little too much to drink. We were at a party, and she disappeared." "Whoah!" Scott laughed and leaned on me, putting his free arm on my shoulders. "Hey, are we... sh-still playing the game, M-Mike? You want me to c-call you Buffy?" "Teenage girls shouldn't drink at all, young lady!" Mrs. Ashley lectured me and shook her finger in front of my face. "You as her older sister are to make sure she keeps away from any alcoholic beverages at parties, and you should also set a proper example, which, as I can see and smell, you probably haven't done. I'm going to inform your parents about this!" "Good luck f-finding them!" Scott said and smiled. "Do you know how many sorts of bad things can happen to teenagers who drink?" Mrs. Ashley continued. She was growing more agitated by the second. "Accidents, violence, premarital sex that leads to unwanted pregnancies and venereal diseases! You cannot simply close your eyes and ignore that! You could be the victim next time, any of you! This is a perfect example of how nobody cares---" "Yes, I'm aware of that," I said, cutting her off instead of giving her the chance to start an unstoppable two-hour diatribe on the topic at hand. "So is she. Good night, Ma'am." "Night," Jake said. "Hooligans!" Mrs. Ashley snorted loudly, her voice full of detestation. She then turned her back to us and resumed walking her dog. I could easily picture a black cloud over her fuming head which was probably chock full of ideas for new letters to the Chesterton Courier already. We, for our part, continued towards the heart of the town with a wobbling and giggling Scott in tow. "Why did you do that?" I asked Scott when we were out of earshot from Mrs. Ashley. "She would have eaten you alive if we hadn't arrived in time!" "Relax, s-sister dear!" Scott replied and leaned against me. "Sh-she's got no idea who we are. Sometimesh it pays to w-wear a dis-sh-guise." "We're in trouble, Scott, as soon as she gets home and picks up her telephone." "Who cares?" he laughed. "At least I f-finally got some fun out of these goddamn skin-shuits." "Maybe he's got a point there," Jake said. "I mean, we could have bumped into someone who has watched TV after 1980, someone who knows these characters we currently look like. If Evelyn Ashley has ever seen an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I'm the Emperor of China." "What you did was stupid nevertheless," I went on scolding Scott even though I knew perfectly well my words would have no effect on him since he was likely to forget everything about the last couple of hours of tonight by the morning. "Besides, I wouldn't count on Ashley not watching TV anymore. It's not so hard to imagine her in front of her old set, with a remote in one hand and an old decorated pencil in the other, writing tons of complaint letters about indecency in the programs to the producers." "I think you're being a little paranoid," Jake argued. "Sure, Scott screwed up, but it would take someone at least slightly interested in Buffy to make the connection between us and the characters. Evelyn Ashley is only curious about the overall immoral content of TV, not plotlines or characters or actors." "Let's hope so," I said. "By the way, isn't it time to call Kate?" "What do you mean?" "Call her with your cell, Mike. We just found Scott, didn't we? I thought you guys agreed---" "Shit!" I cursed. "I don't have my phone with me." "Where is it? Did you leave it in the Benton house?" "No, I left it at home! Oh shit!" "Give it up for Evelyn Ashley!" Scott yelled. "The b-backbone of our country! Come and sh-save our souls!" "And you, shut your face!" "No way! It's t-time to par-rr-ty, sis. I sho need..." "Need what?" "I sho need... a boy. Yeah. A boy." "Terrific," I sighed to Jake, who just grimaced. "Everyone, meet Larry 2.0." Even though we couldn't move nearly as fast as before, Scott was luckily able to walk on his own. Every now and then he began to tilt to one side and teeter off the road, but a quick pull or nudge was usually all that was needed to restore his balance and heading. He became silent for a while, and I began to suspect that he had hit the downhill phase of his inebriation and would soon become more and more drowsy but also more docile and easier to handle. However, much to my dismay, he wasn't quite done with his disorderly behavior just yet. As chance would have it, the Taylors, who were among our family acquaintances, also lived by the main road. Before long, we were walking past their large house. Like most homes in Greensville, it was surrounded by a lawn, a small garden and a couple of trees and bushes, with a white picket fence circling the entire estate. Everything inside the fence was typically clean and neat and in order; all in all, the whole little Taylor empire presented the image of an All-American Small-Town Family Home where everyone was always content, where everyone went to church on Sunday, where the father, returning from work, would find his wife making him a delicious dinner and where the kids didn't talk back to their parents. In this case, there was only one kid--a terminal, incurable geek named Kenny who was about the same age as Kate--but he was nice all the same. Besides myself, Jake, Charlie and Scott all knew him, and we considered him something of an associate, if not an outright member of our inner circle. As a passing thought, I wondered if he was at home. Echoing that almost verbatim, Jake said out loud, "Wonder if the Master Nerd is in his lair." "He probably is," I responded. "I guess he's coding away his night, or maybe chatting with his online pals about making improvements to the latest version of the Linux kernel, or something like that." "Or, maybe he's updating his Buffy blog." "Jesus Christ!" I breathed. "Is everyone a fan of that thing in this town except for us?" "Kenny sure is," Jake said. "I thought you knew that." "Perhaps I did, on some level, but I always believed he was much more into that Japanese animation crap." "Just goes to show how weird someone can be, I think." All of a sudden Scott turned around and stopped. There was a mad glint in his beautiful eyes as he leaned forward towards us and slurred, "Guess what, guysh? I just got the g-greatest idea. Let's... let's go p-play a little g-game with Kenny's mind. He's g-gonna be sho happy when th-three of his f-fantashy girls show up at his d-doorstep!" "Scott," I said firmly, "no. Absolutely, definitely not." "Listen to him," Jake accompanied me. "Let's just go home and sleep." Unfortunately, Scott was already beyond reasoning. He opened his mouth and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Hey, Kenny! You w-wanna get some? Here we are, c-come out and play!" "Shut the fuck up, you drunken moron!" I hissed and tried to grab him by his shoulders, but he was too quick for both me and Jake. It took him only a few seconds to rush over to the fence. "Hey, open your door!" he yelled, shaking the fence with both hands. "Dawn Sh-summers is here t-to take your virginity!" Several lights went on in the nearby houses, and a dog started barking somewhere. I could hear my own loud and rapid heartbeat in my ears as Jake and I barged towards Scott who was now clumsily trying to climb over the fence. Wasting no time, Jake managed to get a good hold of Scott's waist, but then the fence began to give way under a stress its builder had never anticipated. The boards and beams creaked as they were bent, and then something broke with a loud crack. At least five yards of the fence, along with Scott and Jake, collapsed in a mixed heap of wood and people with an ear-shattering rumble. More lights went on along the road, and another dog in the yard of one of the neighboring houses joined in with a loud, incessant bark. At that point I was ready to sit down on the ground and either cry or laugh hysterically until someone came and arrested me. Sure enough, I could soon hear and see a car approaching. Alright, I thought; this is the end. We were busted with no hope of escape. Damn these skinsuits, damn the party, damn Scott and his fooling around, damn everything to hell. The car pulled over and I just waited, standing still with my eyes closed. Whoever was driving the car could see us all clearly so there was no point in trying to hide anymore. "Are you guys okay?" my mother's voice asked. "Kate called me and told me to---" I simply couldn't believe my--our--good luck. Mom had stepped out of the car and was now standing in front of me, looking slightly worried as I stared at her with my mouth open. It took me about five seconds to snap out of my daze. "Thank God you're here!" I gushed. "Quick, let's get them into the car!" "Who are they?" Mom inquired. "Jake and Scott," I said, having momentarily forgotten that she couldn't possibly recognize the two people in their costumes. "Jake's the sober one. Well, mostly sober, anyway." "I see." Jake had gotten up and was leading Scott away from the remains of the fence. It seemed that Scott had finally spent all his energy; as light hit his face, I could see his eyes were almost closed and he was slightly pale. Every step he took clearly required a lot of effort. He acknowledged my mother's presence only by mumbling something unintelligible as Jake and I shoved him onto the front seat of Mom's car. Mom sat behind the wheel, and Jake and I manned the back seat. "Drive!" I ordered. As soon as Mom had gotten the engine running and the car moving, I added, "And don't turn around here. Take the other way home. I don't want to risk getting caught." I felt as though I was sitting on hot coals as the houses passed by the car windows. Lots of people had clearly been alerted by the noise we had made, judging by the number of lights that had suddenly been turned on everywhere along the road, but as far as I could see, no one had come out to investigate. It was possible and even likely that most of the local populace had already decided to blame it all on some drunken high school kids and to wait until morning before checking the damage-- provided that no new disturbances took place. For my part, I planned on making sure everyone would get their good night's sleep from this point on. "So," Mom asked after the last of the town lights had disappeared behind us, "how was the evening?" "Surreal," Jake replied for all three of us. "Was there any alcohol? You two seem relatively clear-headed to me." "We are, practically speaking," I said. "Scott had some booze, but he drank most of it himself." "I don't doubt that," Mom said, looking at my girl-shaped cousin, who had slumped in the seat and then dozed off. "By the way, how come you guys are still in costume? Kate said that she and the other girls would help you out of them at the end of the party." "The plan hit a little snag," I explained. "The girls need to get some sort of miracle potion from the woman who makes the suits before they can be taken off. Apparently we've been wearing them for too long." "Yes," Jake confirmed. "Or actually, they did have some of that potion, but our friend Larry the Faggot destroyed the bottle." "Really? What happened?" "Let's just say that old differences between us resurfaced, and we didn't part on the best of terms," I told her. "But I can say more," Jake offered. "Lots more. First, the appalling prick pretended he was a slutty fictional girl, and then he got personal with us, me and Mike in particular. Finally he said he never liked us and threw away the bottle which contained the antidote. And guess what else? He's planning to remain female for the rest of his life! I think we ought to put him out of his misery." "Oh boy," Mom breathed. "That must have been some party! Did it come to blows? Is everyone alright?" "Nobody was physically hurt," I replied, "even though it was close." "So, is it absolutely certain that you can be turned back to normal?" "That's what the girls told us," I said and sighed. "We hope for the best and fear the worst, I guess." "You know, it's sad that you and Larry can't get along anymore," Mom continued. "He was such a nice little boy when he came to visit you, remember?" "But now he's a bad girl," I said in a disdainful tone. "And soon a dead girl," Jake added, "if it's up to me." "That was a big decision on his part, and I have to say it does surprise me a little, but maybe it's for the best. I mean, he was always a little effeminate, don't you think? If it makes him happy, then let him be a woman. At any rate, it will definitely come as a big shock to his family. Their reaction actually worries me." "Screw their reaction," Jake said bluntly. "Larry lives in his own apartment, and if Daddy dearest stops supporting him and he gets kicked out, he's bound to find himself a bed somewhere as he has no qualms about sleeping with pretty much any man he happens to meet." "Erm, speaking of beds," Mom said changing the subject, "I understood you're going to crash at our house, so I prepared our guest bed for you, but now it seems we have to accommodate Scott as well." "Don't mind me," Jake said quickly. "I can go home." "No, that's not what I meant," she explained. "The downstairs sofa is available. I was just thinking that Scott might need a proper bed as he's probably going to be in a pretty bad condition." "That's fine by me. Let him have the bed." My cousin moved a little and muttered in a sleepy voice, without opening his eyes, "Uh, where... are we?" "In my car," Mom said, "going home. You'll sleep in our house tonight." "I... I think I'm... gonna be sick..." "Hold on for a few more minutes, we're almost there." Mom took a left turn onto the road to Pinerigde and sped up somewhat. There was usually less traffic on this road than on the main road, but the Pineridge road was also narrower and winding and its old asphalt was full of deep cracks. However, Mom never allowed those facts to bother her. She knew the road well, like most locals, and she usually drove fast, not just in and around Greensville but everywhere. Amusingly enough, she had the tendency to tell me or Kate to slow down whenever she was riding shotgun with either of us, no matter how carefully we drove. The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Mom concentrated on keeping the car on the road, Scott had obviously fallen asleep, and Jake and I were lost in our thoughts. My mind was replaying the events of the party over and over again, and I tried to comprehend that it all had actually happened even though that night and the previous three days still felt more like a freakish dream than reality to me. Still, Larry and his actions were firmly on the forefront of my thoughts. I couldn't decide whether I hated or pitied him, or perhaps both at the same time. Sure, we had done a few unsavory things to him, but his revenge was hugely exaggerated in my opinion. Unless he was aware that we could obtain some more of Mandy's potion, he really had had every intention to leave us imprisoned in our female bodies for the rest of our lives. The more I pondered about that, the more evil Larry started to seem. Life would have gone on for us as women, true, but in a certain sense he would have effectively murdered us by destroying our identities. We would have had to start from scratch, first getting new IDs, driver's licenses, birth certificates, diplomas and all the other necessary documents and then new jobs, perhaps even new houses or apartments. We would have also lost most of our old acquaintances and not-so-close friends, in fact nearly everyone outside of our own gang and our families; there would have been no way for them to recognize us or for us to be able to explain the change to them. Spending a lifetime looking like someone else would have been a problem in its own right. Even without considering the practical issues it felt simply wrong, both because we had taken something away from the people we now resembled and also because we had been physically reduced to their slightly less than perfect copies instead of being completely unique individuals. That would have lessened everybody involved. Of course, there was a nagging thought inside my head constantly reminding me that we were not out of the woods just yet. All of these troubles still had the potential of coming true. I was so preoccupied that when I next paid attention to the outside world, I realized we were very close to my home. In less than a minute, Mom pulled up in front of the house. Scott was sound asleep by that time, so Mom had to shake him gently. "We're there," she said. Scott mumbled something akin to acknowledgement but refused to open his eyes. He seemed completely content where he was, so Jake and I had to pull him up on his feet and walk him into the house. As soon as we got across the threshold, Mom took charge and started guiding him upstairs. "You two can take a shower if you like," she told us. "I'll get some towels for you." "I think I'm fine," Jake said. "Besides, I don't have any spare clothes." "That's for you to decide, of course, but in any case, you must remember to wash off your makeup before you go to bed." Since I figured I was not needed upstairs, I walked to the living room and slumped down on the couch. Jake followed my example and sat down next to me, letting out a weary sigh. I was very tired, as probably was Jake, but going to bed right away would have been useless; I wouldn't have gotten any sleep because everything that had happened was yet to be processed somehow. It was time to talk, but neither of us seemed to be able to start. "Penny for your thoughts," I said finally. "I want a dollar," Jake responded. "Alright, fine, let me guess then. You're thinking of ways to kill Larry without getting caught." "Bingo," he grunted, staring at his feet. "God, I hate that asshole!" Another minute passed in silence. I was trying feverishly to come up with something constructive and positive to say in order to lift our spirits a little and to prevent Jake from sinking into a dark mixture of depression and anger. I had to fight back those same emotions too, telling myself that Mandy would bring us some of her potion sooner or later and then everything would be back to normal. I hoped so, but I wasn't sure whether or not it was sensible to count on that hope. "Ah well," I said after a while, "things could be worse." "Like how?" Jake asked. "Imagine if they were into children's shows instead of Buffy. We could be stuck as something non-human right now." "Such as what?" "Like, say, hand puppet characters. Then we'd have to make a living with someone's hand up our asses on national television." "Yep," Jake said and giggled out loud. "That's hard work alright!" Various muffled noises had been carrying from the upstairs bathroom which was almost directly above the living room of downstairs. Mom had obviously taken Scott there, which turned out to be a good decision, as we were suddenly interrupted by the sounds of somebody vomiting long and hard. My mother was probably holding Scott's long hair back and speaking him words of reassurance laced with criticism of our lifestyle which, in her opinion, always involved too much alcohol. Mom drank practically never herself, so she usually did have the moral high ground when it came to beverages. "There goes the whiskey and Joanna's sausages," Jake quipped. "In nomine Spiritus Fortis, amen," I added, drawing another little burst of giggles out of the two of us. As the laughter gradually died down and was replaced with inward chuckles and knowing smiles, I noticed something I had mostly dismissed before: the person sitting next to me was an extremely attractive young woman and not just my old friend. Of course, she was essentially a transformed Jake, but there was definitely more than that to her. It had taken me some time to become aware of the fact that while "Willow" still spoke like Jake--that is to say, she tended to choose similar words and phrases and topics--her body language was already very different from Jake's. Her facial expressions, hand gestures and various small body movements were more graceful; or, maybe 'smooth' would be the best adjective. The changes did not stop there, however. As I looked straight in her eyes, I thought I could see into the uncharted depths of a mind that was both familiar and strange to me. Jake had had light blue eyes whose stare could occasionally seem slightly unwelcoming even though he himself seldom was. In contrast, "Willow's" eyes were lively, and they conveyed warmth and compassion. If the eyes truly were the window to a human being's soul, Jake was on his way to becoming someone else, or perhaps his new female form had simply revealed a previously unseen side of him to the world. In any case, this discovery was downright startling. "What?" my friend asked. "Huh?" I asked back, suddenly realizing that I had been looking at him intently for quite some time. "You were looking at me, and I-I thought you were going to say something." "No... It's nothing." I averted my gaze and pretended to study the wallpapers, but I could feel Jake staring at me the same way I had been staring at him. He was at least as curious as I was, which was certainly understandable. However, we were once again sitting quietly and feeling awkward. Seeing how much Jake had changed inevitably made me turn my thoughts to my own condition. It seemed logical enough to assume that I had changed roughly as much as Jake had, and if that was the case and the transformation was still proceeding, there would soon be little if anything left of the old me. Perhaps the skinsuits were designed so that first they caused a radical and fast physical metamorphosis, and as the subject was still grappling with its effects and trying to come to terms with it, they subtly reshaped the subject's mind. Why this was necessary was beyond me. Maybe the mental transformation was meant to make the wearer feel more comfortable in their new body; however, it was equally likely that the skins aimed at perfection and attempted to turn the wearer into another person completely. Jake must have had these same thoughts, and it was obvious that he wanted to reopen the conversation but waited for me to do it for him. I could guess how the situation was going to develop--the question of who we were mentally was closely tied to our sexuality, and that would be brought up at some point. Eventually Jake began, with some obligatory beating around the bush, "Whew! I don't know about you, but I'm glad the party's over." "I'm glad too," I said and let him continue. "Do you think..." Here it comes, I said to myself and replied to Jake, "Think what?" "Do you think that we are becoming... No, I mean, do you think that w- we could become gay because of these suits?" "I guess that depends on what you mean by 'gay'," I said. "Technically speaking, if we liked men, we'd be straight because we are women now." "Yes, physically," Jake said, "but it's only superficial. We are still men underneath these skins, right?" He stood up and walked in front of one of the living room windows. Since it was dark outside, he could see his reflection in the glass. Jake lifted his fingers to his soft cheek and said, without taking his eyes off the mirror image, "I can't understand how these costumes did what they did to us, but there has got to be some kind of sensory illusion or other similar trick involved. We see and hear ourselves differently, but our own bodies must still be right here. Mass can't disappear. All we have to do is to find a way to get out of these suits, and everything will be back to normal." "I wouldn't be so sure of that," I commented, but he paid no mind to my opinion. "They feel as if our skins were bare, but there has to be a layer of the skinsuit material that disguises us and accomplishes the illusion. Can't we just cut it with a knife or something? If we are careful, I-I think that ought to work." I was surprised when I heard his view on the matter. I had considered a similar theory but I had then dismissed it as it could not possibly explain everything we had experienced. More than anything, though, I was scared that Jake might actually attempt to test it and hurt himself seriously. "Jake," I said sternly, "don't be stupid. If you cut yourself, you'll bleed." "Yes, if I cut myself, but the idea is to cut the skinsuit, not my own flesh." "There is no difference. There is no skinsuit." Jake turned away from the window and towards me with a look of bewilderment on his face. "Um, what exactly are you saying, Mike?" he inquired. "Don't you understand? You were a 220-pound guy with a beard, and now you are a 100-pound girl! It's no illusion because we can all see it. You have shrunk five inches--measure yourself, if you like. You have a vagina, and so do I. God knows, maybe we'll even menstruate. None of that happens if you crawl inside an inflatable doll made of rubber!" "Have you?" "What?" "Have you crawled inside an infla---" "No! That has nothing to do with this. My point is that there is no rubber suit around my body, or yours. These are our real bodies now." "But that's impossible. You're a physicist, a knower of all things physic-y, right? Then I think you should know that it just can't happen." "I do know it, but the impossible happened after all, and we have no choice but to live with it." Jake (it was getting harder and harder for me to think of this person as Jake rather than "Willow", especially now that he had suddenly even started to emulate his character's way of talking; Jake would never have uttered the non-word "physic-y", and I almost called him out on that) sat down again. He sighed, looking somewhat defeated. "But," he continued, pointing at his head, "as long as we are men up here, it doesn't matter what we may or may not have... you know, down there." "That's probably true," I admitted, not willing to argue. "We need to keep focused on staying masculine in our minds until we get our old bodies back. That's the way to go. Besides, I think we can test our mental state, and, um, maybe we should do just that." "How?" I asked, pretending not to realize what Jake was up to. "Do you find me... attractive?" "Absolutely," I answered. "You look fantastic." "So do you. I wouldn't mind... em, physical contact with you." "You sly dog!" I exclaimed and laughed. "So that's what this was all about. Here we are, stuck as females, and you just lust after your best friend's body! Shame on you, dirty old man!" Jake turned deep red from the neck up. He stammered, "Well... It's just... What I-I meant, you see... I didn't mean that... It's all in the name of preserving our masculinity and all of that stuff, naturally. And I can't deny that I see you as very attractive and sexy. It-it simply goes to show that I'm still a man at heart, and in my opinion, that's a good thing." "I know," I said and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it." "And besides," he continued, "how often do we get a chance like this? To think that I could tell people what it's like, you know, to make out with Sarah Michelle Gellar! You, of course, could say the same about Alyson Hannigan." "Nobody would ever believe either you or me," I said, "and, strictly speaking, it wouldn't be true." "I'll settle for not speaking strictly." I considered my options for a moment. Jake was apparently serious with his suggestion, and even though I wasn't sure whether he was actually trying to prove a point or just wanting to fulfill a nerd's fantasy, turning him down might have hurt his feelings. The worst possible mistake would have been to laugh at him, as I had done to Larry all those years ago. What was more, the lovely young woman on the couch didn't seem to have much to do with Jake, my bearded fat friend. She had sparkling eyes, a sweet smile and a pretty face, and even though her clothes were hardly revealing, I could tell her body was not bad either. I was now convinced that even her mind was no longer fully Jake's. No one would ever find out about this. What was stopping me? "Fine," I said, "but just a kiss. Clothes stay on." "Of course!" "Willow" agreed. "I-I didn't mean we should actually have lesbian sex or anything." She stayed still as I started to lean slowly towards her face. I could smell the intoxicating scent of her perfume, and she parted her slightly wet lips, anticipating the kiss. We were still a good ten inches away from an actual lip contact when I suddenly realized I needed to laugh. The whole situation was so absurd I could no longer contain it, and I started to giggle almost uncontrollably. "What's so funny?" "Willow" asked as I pulled away. "All this," I replied, still snickering. "Me and you, kissing on my Mama's porch! Well, not porch, but couch anyway." This comment made her crack a smile and even chuckle a little. Nevertheless, she chided me, "Come on! Get serious so we can get on with it!" "You sound like Joanna. Or Tina." "Could you just be kissing me now, Buffy?" I was still not particularly fond of being called that, but I swallowed my bride and, after staring into her big eyes for a while, felt the desire build up in my mind. I leaned towards her for a second time, but just as we were getting close to each other and my heart was racing, I saw her lips curl into a small smile. This made me smile, and in less than two seconds we were both laughing again. "What?" I asked her in turn. "What's so funny this time?" "What you just said," she told me. "That, and Scott's sausage. May it rest in peace." "Ah, the sausage," I said. "Actually, it rests in pieces somewhere down---" "Stop talking like that!" she ordered, giggling even more. "I need to concentrate on doing you, not laughing at your jokes." "Doing me? I never go that far on first date." "Whatever. Let's be less talky and more kissy." This time we almost made it. We both controlled our urge to laugh and turn everything into one big joke, and our lips were mere millimeters away from each other when I suddenly heard the front door being opened. Kate had come home; I could hear her talk to someone, probably Sammy, in the kitchen. Needless to say, we pulled apart at that instant. However, it didn't take her long to enter the living room, and we must have looked so guilty that it couldn't go unnoticed by her. "Oh, here you are! Don't worry, I was just checking. By the way, I just called Mandy. She promised she'd come over some time tomorrow to take a look at you guys." "Good," I said. Jake nodded in agreement. "Oh, and Willow," Kate added with a grin, "she doesn't swing that way." She giggled and turned around, having made her point. It wasn't lost on us--Jake and I both blushed furiously. "I guess it's time to go to sleep," I concluded. "If you don't mind, we'll make a bed for you here. Mom can arrange you a pillow, a sheet and a blanket. I'll wash up first, and then the bathroom's yours. I won't be long." "Fine by me. Oh, Mike?" "Yeah?" "Let's not talk about the... kissing thing, okay?" "Agreed. And Jake?" "Yep?" "Don't call me Buffy." "Agreed," he said and smiled. (To be continued...)