Life Out Of Joint - Chapter 6/7: Let It Bleed free porn video

LIFE OUT OF JOINT by Crazy Baron Chapter 6/7 -- Let It Bleed Synopsis: Things seemingly start to return to normal for Mike Caldwell and his friends, but a happy ending for all is perhaps not in the offing. He learns that, at the end of the day, there is no real running away from what you leave behind, let alone an escape from forces beyond your comprehension. ***** Suddenly, I again became aware of my surroundings. There was definitely someone else there, close by, so I opened my eyes, trying to be prepared for literally anything. No matter what my condition, I would run or fight if that was necessary. For a fraction of a second, I thought I was still in the hospital room, but the ceiling was clearly different. Then Kate's face came into my view. She was watching me with a concerned look on her face, and I was about to ask her how she had gotten here with me; however, before I could say anything, I realized I was back in my own room and my own bed, not at a hospital in Buffyverse. I blinked a few times, anxious to find out if this was just another dream image, but when everything remained solid and unchanging, I let out a contented sigh. The adrenaline stopped flowing, and all the strength from my body seemed to vanish, leaving me listless and sleepy again. "A dream?" Kate asked me. "Yeah," I said and nodded. "Not a pleasant one, I presume. I thought I heard you whimper in your sleep and I came to see if you needed help." "Thanks. I'm okay." "Do you want to talk about it?" I sighed a second time but didn't say anything. I was tremendously relieved that my visit to the fantasy land had apparently been only a dream and I had woken up safe and sound right where I belonged, but still I was more confused than ever and afraid that the last remaining vestiges of my sanity were quickly slipping away. "You'll feel better," Kate prodded. "Was it something embarrassing? Like having sex with a guy, or...?" "No, nothing like that," I replied, pushing the blanket aside and sitting up on the bed. "I was in Sunnydale." "Oh. As Buffy?" "Yes." "How's that so bad?" she asked with a smile. "You see? We're going to make a Buffy fan out of you yet!" "That's not very goddamn funny," I grumbled but cracked a tiny smile of my own at her attempt to cheer me up before going on, "It... To be honest, it was pretty scary. I thought my mind was gone for good." "Did you get into a fight or something?" "No. I was just lying in a hospital bed, and people came to see me. I was scared because I thought I would be stuck there for the rest of my life." "I see your point, but I bet there are folks who would happily live out their lives in Buffyverse." "And I'm not one of those." "Yeah, me neither, but the main thing is that you're here now. It wasn't real, so you don't need to worry." "Actually, I often wonder if this world is real," I added, not being able to resist the temptation to broach the issue. "I mean, these skinsuits shouldn't exist. They make no sense. I..." She looked at me in a manner that was both quizzical and sympathetic. She likely thought I was going insane, but then again, it was hardly reasonable to expect anything else from a person who had experienced what I had. "We already talked about them," she commented. "I was really amazed at first, and even freaked out by them, just like you, but I eventually learned to acknowledge that they are real and they work. You're living proof of that." "No, that's not acceptable," I argued. "Like I said before, they shouldn't exist." "Says who?" "Science and logic. Look, I don't want to fight over this with you, but--if they are real, then there is something wrong with this whole universe." "You lost me," she said. "I don't believe I can explain it in comprehensible terms, but ever since I came here from the city for Halloween, everything has been off somehow. At times, when I go to sleep, I think I am back in the reality where things make sense and where there are no such things as these suits. I don't know if I'm only dreaming that, or if this is the dream, but both places feel real to me. Even that fucking Sunnydale felt real! I... What the hell's happening to me?" She immediately wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a warm, tight hug. "Don't worry, Cindy," she almost whispered into my ear. "It'll be alright. Mandy will come today and help you out of that skin. Then everything will be fine, trust me." I felt anything but well-rested as I got up and went through my feminine morning routine once more. Even though I had been sleeping for more than nine hours--the first clock I saw showed the time as 11:05 AM already--the Sunnydale visit had rattled me so badly that it almost seemed as though I had hardly been to bed at all. This could not go on; there was no question about it. I had to get out of the skinsuit and put this madness behind me, the sooner, the better. Amanda Elkins had an impeccable timing. Just as I had finished my very late breakfast, with Kate keeping me company, we heard a car outside. My sister went outside to meet her, and then the women came in together. As before, Mandy was very smartly dressed and carrying the mysterious black bag of hers. "Cindy!" she greeted me and, not willing to give me an opportunity to step back, went on to hug me immediately. Her embrace was gentle and warm, and I could smell the delicate scent of her perfume; it was a tasteful choice, perfectly fitting her sophisticated style. "How are you today, sweetie?" she asked me as soon as she had released me. "Anxiously looking forward to being a guy again," I said laconically. "As a matter of fact, she just had a pretty bad nightmare," Kate explained. "I'm afraid you're not catching her at her best." "So, you still want me to try to restore your original form?" Mandy asked, with her bright blue eyes probing my face. "Yes, absolutely," I said without even pausing to think. "Let's do it." "Of course, you remember what I told you about the risks, don't you? I can't guarantee this will end well." "I understand that, but like I said before, my mind is made up." "Kenny will be disappointed," Kate remarked. "Oh?" Mandy perked up. "Who's that?" "Someone totally irrelevant to this situation," I interrupted. "Could we please get on with it now?" "Sure, Cindy. I think we'd better go somewhere more comfortable. I'll be needing some floor space, and my patient would probably also value her privacy. Do you have a large bathroom or something like that available?" "You can use the upstairs one," Kate suggested. "It's larger than the one downstairs." I didn't have the faintest idea about what Mandy proposed to do with me, so I could only go along. I showed her to the stairs, and when we walked up them, Kate cast one last worried look at us. Even though she hadn't said anything about it and had been putting on a brave face, I could sense that she was apprehensive about the restoration process and even afraid for me. Once upstairs, Mandy and I went to the main bathroom, and she closed the door behind us but left it unlocked. "Now, Cindy, you have to undress," she instructed me. "Take off all of your clothes, underwear included." "Right here?" "Yeah. We're both girls, aren't we? You don't need to be ashamed." "But when I get my own body back," I pointed out, "I will be a man, and that could be a little less convenient." "You honestly think I have never seen a naked man before?" she chuckled and gave me a friendly, reassuring smile. "So--you didn't bring the potion?" "You're right, I didn't. I'm trying another technique here," she explained. "It's something only professionals can do, but it should be more effective than the potions." I needed no more persuasion. In a minute or two, I had stripped off every piece of clothing I had been wearing--namely the same outfit I had worn the day before yesterday, plus fresh underwear--and stood in front of Amanda Elkins buck naked. The cool air made my nipples erect, and there was a feeling of contraction between my legs. This reminded me that I still had not touched myself down there as a girl, and suddenly I felt a flash of pride. I hadn't given in to the temptation to try female masturbation. Even though it would probably have done me no harm, I regarded abstaining from it a small moral victory all the same. "I know it might be a little uncomfortable," she said, "but could you go lie down on the floor? This will be easier for both of us that way." "Sure," I said simply. My hands and legs were shaking with excitement as I knelt down and then settled on my stomach. This was it, I told myself; the moment of truth had arrived. Even the coldness of the floor didn't particularly bother me. "Don't try to move or to look at what's happening here," Mandy told me. "Lay still. Now, this may hurt a little, but I'll do my best. If anything starts to go wrong, I'll stop at once." "Sounds good enough to me," I replied. "Okay, here goes." I sensed how she knelt next to me and slowly placed the palms of her hands on my bare back. I took a deep breath and waited for the show to begin. Whatever was about to happen, I hoped that it would be over soon. As soon as her fingertips touched my skin, I could again feel a strange tingling, as if her hands emitted a small electric current. The sensation grew rapidly in intensity, and in a few seconds it had spread all across my body. I closed my eyes and instantly imagined that I was covered by hundreds of worms or small snakes, wriggling and writhing wildly. To shake this mental picture, I opened my eyes again and realized that my vision was now blurred just as it had been when I was first transformed by the skin. Maybe the soothing numbness would follow, I thought. I was tempted to turn my head and try to see what Mandy was doing, even though she had told me not to, but as I found out, I could no longer move a muscle and was thus forced to follow her order. My eyes unfocused even more, and suddenly irregular patches of bright colors began to appear in my field of vision. They consolidated and then started to move around like in a kaleidoscope, constantly changing their shape, and I stared at them in awe. Nothing like this had occurred during the first transformation, and I wondered momentarily if it was a good or a bad sign. However, I was curiously detached from the whole situation, almost like an outside observer, and I felt no anxiety or fear. Soon, the color show was being accompanied by faint sounds, like ringing jingle bells, in my ears. The sounds were bright and clean, growing louder, and they seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Time apparently stood still, and there was nothing in the whole universe except for me, the sounds, the colors, the floor and Mandy's strong hands that kept pushing me down. The mental images began to merge, and then I lost all sense of direction. There was no way to know which way was down; the Earth's gravity had seemingly started to vary its strength and direction at random. For a while, I was sure that I was actually lying on the ceiling and not the floor, but then I realized that was not possible, as this plane was vertical, so it naturally had to be the wall opposite to the door. Even though forming coherent thoughts had become increasingly difficult for me, I suddenly remembered my uncle saying once, "You know you're really drunk when you're lying down and afraid you might fall over." He certainly knew what he was talking about. I cannot really tell for certain whether this in fact happened or not, but at some point I recall turning my head up towards Mandy and desperately trying to focus my eyes, even though I could see her shape only dimly and indistinctly through the psychedelic color display. To my horror, I thought I heard the Buffy voice say, slowly and haltingly, "Please, stop... You're hurting me... Please... No..." Those words were certainly not mine, as I absolutely wanted Mandy to continue, and for a second or two I feared that some malicious external will had taken over my body. Then the spell seemed to let go of me, and I lay again motionless. Finally, after some time, my senses began to return to normal, and the whirling colors, along with the ringing, faded away. I was still on the floor, but I felt incredibly large and massive, so much so that I doubted my ability to move at all. Furthermore, I was entirely enveloped in some kind of a cloth, unable to see. "Let me," I heard Mandy say. She pulled the skin forward and down, and my head popped out of the mask-like sheath as I simultaneously pushed myself up to my hands and knees. I blinked my eyes as light shone into them, grimaced and struggled to free my arms next. Had it not been for Mandy, I wouldn't have been able to get out of the skin; every movement, no matter how small, required my undivided attention and a tremendous amount of effort. My body did not seem to respond properly. It was stiff and heavy, and standing up was a considerable exertion. When the skinsuit was finally down to my waist, I paused and inhaled deeply a couple of times. Mandy was now standing in front of me, and she asked, "How are we doing?" "Funny you should put it that way," I replied. The words came out in a gravelly and low-pitched voice that at first sounded almost equally strange to me as the Buffy voice had before I had gotten used to it. "We are doing... Actually, I don't know just yet." With Mandy's help, I was soon clear of the rest of the skin, and was completely nude again, but I didn't have the energy to feel self- conscious and to try to cover up my private parts. My legs and arms-- once more coated with roughly textured, thick skin and lots of hair-- were shaking slightly, and I had to rest for a while to maintain my balance. Mandy offered a hand, but I rejected it and instead grabbed hold of the sink to steady myself. I took a long look at the skinsuit, which was lying in a heap on the floor, and commented, "I guess there's a God after all." "I beg your pardon?" Mandy said. "There is a God after all," I repeated and pointed at the empty Buffy skin. "Thanks to Him and you, I'm me again." "It was a close call," she admitted. "For a moment I thought I was going to lose you and I was about to stop, but then things seemed to sort themselves out. You were out cold for almost fifteen minutes." "I was? I had no sense of time whatsoever." "I believe that. You should rest for a day or two, get reoriented and get your strength back. There might be some small bouts of nausea, and you may feel sleepy, but it'll pass. There was no serious harm done." "Good. By the way, did I speak to you during the operation? Did I say something?" "No, I don't think so. Maybe you mumbled something quietly at one point, but it was totally unintelligible to me." "Oh, okay then. You know, I just might take a shower now." "That's probably a good idea. I'll wait for you downstairs." She picked up the discarded Buffy skin and, turning her back to me, seemed to examine it intently before folding it up very carefully. I noticed a sad look cross her face briefly. Then she uttered, in an extremely quiet voice, something that sounded almost like "poor baby" to my ears. "Excuse me?" I said to her. "What?" she asked back and turned to face me again. "I thought you said something to me." "No, nothing." She flashed me a smile. "I didn't say anything." As Mandy left the room and closed the door, I stepped into the stall and turned the water on. It felt heavenly. My skin had been covered in cold sweat, in addition to which I had noticed a strange, sickeningly sweet smell that was most likely coming from me. I hoped the shower would rid me of both. I leaned against the wall, just in case, but as a positive sign of my physical condition my legs were starting to support my weight. Once more, it struck me as simply incredible how tall, massive and clumsy I was as myself. I had felt the same whenever I had been seemingly transported back to the future and returned to my own body, but this time it was somehow much more definite than before. I had regained my own shape and managed to shed the Buffy form for good, regardless of which of the two timeframes was the real world and which one was imaginary. Finally I stepped out, toweled myself and then trudged to my room, trying to find something to wear. I was all smiles as I glanced at the feminine undergarments on the chair; no more those for me, ever! Instead, I picked up a pair of blue boxers, some socks, a black t-shirt and my comfy old blue jeans. Getting dressed was again a matter of minutes, not hours. Kate and Mandy were in the kitchen having coffee and engaged in chatter when I walked in. I must have looked like a complete moron with a triumphant smile on my face, but I was overjoyed and saw absolutely no reason to hide that fact. The Buffy skin was now resting in a neat pile on the kitchen counter. The situation was almost comical: a mysterious semi-biological entity probably originating from outside of this solar system, capable of radically shifting a person's shape and completely disregarding some of the most fundamental laws of physics, chemistry and biochemistry while doing so, had been put away and cast aside like a dirty shirt. Nevertheless, I was full of healthy respect towards it and decided not to approach too closely, even though it appeared to be entirely inert at the time. "There you are!" Kate exclaimed and ran to me. She gave me a tight hug and said, "You have no idea how worried I was. I called Mom as soon as Mandy told me the good news." "Good to be back," I said. "I guess I'll be leaving," Mandy announced and got up. "I still have a lot of work to do today." "Thank you," I said to her. "Honestly and sincerely, thank you." "You're very welcome," she responded with a small laugh. "I'm glad I could help. I'll take the skin with me and fix it so it can be worn again." "Sounds great," Kate said as she finally loosened her embrace and let me go. Mandy picked the vacant skinsuit up, tucked it under her arm as if it were just another everyday clothing item and took her coat from the hanger. As she was about to walk out the door, she turned around and said, "Michael, when the symbiont is back in perfect working order, you can have it if you like. I can bring it back as soon as I'm finished with it." For a moment, I practically forgot my upbringing, my politeness, my decency, my gratitude towards Mandy and every single commonly accepted rule of social conduct in the Western Civilization. I nearly told her to shove the skin up her rectum, but fortunately I was too slack-jawed to say anything for a second or two. Amanda Elkins truly had some nerve. This was exactly like having a man almost hanged for a crime he did not commit and then offering him the rope as a souvenir! "Don't worry," she continued. "It will be safe to wear, even for several days. I'll throw in the clothes as well." "No thanks," I managed to say. "Absolutely not. I don't want anything to do with it anymore." "But it would be fantastic," Kate argued, trying to turn my head. "You could spend half of your time as yourself and half as Buffy. That way I could keep both my brother and my sister." "No deal," I said and let out a chuckle. It amazed me how unwilling the females were to understand my point. "I won't wear it ever again. Period." "Fine, how about weekends as Buffy and the rest of the time as yourself?" "No. Look, just take it and keep it away from this house, will you, Mandy?" "Okay then," Amanda said. "See you, guys." "Bye," Kate and I replied in unison. I flopped down on the living room couch as soon as Mandy's car had left the driveway. It was starting to seem that my ordeal could finally be coming to an end. A complete psychological recovery might take months, if not years, but at least I had had my own form restored. Kate sat down next to me and let out a deep sigh. "Look," she began, "I can't tell you how sorry I am. This was sort of my fault." "No, it wasn't," I comforted her. "I'm sure you didn't mean any harm. You know these alien skin symbionts, they can surprise ya just like that." She laughed with me, but I could see a tiny tear running down from the corner of her eye. "Hey, no worries," I said, trying to sound as friendly as reassuring as possible. "I'm not angry at you, I never was. We won. This is a happy occasion! No time to be gloomy, sister dear." "It's not that. I know you don't hate me, even when I deserve it. You're too good a person for that. But..." "But what?" "I got you back, but I lost the coolest sister I could ever have," Kate said and gave me a smile that could only be described as equal parts happy and sad, just as she herself was. That Wednesday turned out to be an emotional rollercoaster ride unlike almost any other day in my (adult) life. After it had begun with the terror and despair of the Sunnydale hallucination, Mandy had managed to reverse my transformation successfully. It was a cause for celebration in and of itself, but for a short time, things only seemed to get better. After Kate and I had had lunch together and I was lounging in my room, lazily contemplating my plans for the immediate future, my cell phone rang. It was Jake, and he announced that he was also back in his own form. He sounded precisely like his masculine self, and with a smile I thought I could detect some faint signs of inebriation in his voice. I congratulated him, as he did me, and we decided to make the planned get-together finally happen. As soon as Charlie and Scott were restored to themselves, there would be our kind of party. Promising to contact each other and the guys no later than tomorrow, we said our goodbyes. I couldn't remember the last time when I had been this glad after hanging up. It was then that we ran out of good news. Only a few minutes passed before my phone rang again. As I pulled it out of my trouser pocket, I saw that the call was coming from a number that was not included in my list of contacts. I had been expecting Scott or Charlie to call me and report that he had gotten out of his skinsuit, just as Jake had done, so I was suddenly assailed by a feeling of unease. "Oh hi, Michael," Mandy's voice said. "You're just the person I was trying to reach. I already called Kate on her cell, and she gave me your number." "What is it?" I asked, becoming even more alarmed. "What's wrong?" "You see, Charlie and Scott... I visited them, and it seems their transformations have reached the final stage. There's nothing I could do. I am very, very sorry." My party plans and what was left of my joyful mood were crushed in a blink of an eye. "Oh," I mumbled. "I understand. It was just too late, wasn't it?" "I'm afraid so." Neither of us said anything for a while. I tried desperately to come up with something more or less sensible to comment, but the shock had tied my tongue. "Look," Mandy said, finally breaking the silence, "aside from being irreversibly transformed, there's nothing physically wrong with them. I believe they'll be doing just fine as soon as they adapt mentally. We need to offer the guys lots of love and support, because that's pretty much all we can do at this point. I'll be checking with them every now and then in case there are problems." She paused, presumably to let me voice my thoughts, but I was still at a loss of words. "So, we'll stay in touch," she concluded. "Take care, and keep your friends in mind. Bye." "Bye," I said quietly. I put the phone back into my pocket and rose from my bed. Trying to process what I had been told, I slowly walked downstairs and, after wandering aimlessly from room to room for a while like a zombie, plopped down on a chair at the kitchen table. Kate had apparently gone out, so I was alone in the house, with no one to talk to. I was already beginning to feel survivor's guilt, and while that was predictable, it didn't make the emotion any more tolerable. How come Charlie and Scott could not be helped? What made them different? Then my anger began to rise. This had to be someone's fault. Tina and her friend, Whatshername, had tutored Charlie, so she was probably to blame, at least partially. And Mandy--had she honestly done everything in her power to save my friends? And then, of course, there was Larry. If he hadn't destroyed the antidote bottle, Charlie and Scott might have had a chance. So as to prove that there truly is no justice in this world, another unpleasant event occurred mere minutes after Mandy's phone call. I thought I had heard footsteps from outside the house, and as I looked up and through the kitchen window, I saw a feminine figure walk towards the front door. To my dismay, I realized that it was none other than Leslie Faith Elizabeth Simmons in all her glory. Since the door was not locked, there was little I could do to prevent her from getting in. It was too late to run and hide, and so I just clenched my jaw and waited for whatever was to come as she entered the house. "Hello, Mike," a girl's voice called. I turned around to see Leslie standing at the kitchen doorway. While she was no longer wearing the tight leather pants and the top that went with her Faith costume, the snug blue jeans and black blouse, complemented by the same boots that she had worn to the party, showcased her very attractive body almost as effectively. She had also slightly toned down her makeup, but for all intents and purposes she was still radiating sex appeal. "Oh, it's you," I said. "That's no way to greet an old friend," she reprimanded in a playful tone and came closer. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything. So, you're back to being a guy, I see. Good." It was only now that I realized just how mesmerizing she was. Her looks, voice and movements were all perfectly feminine, but there was a distinctive air of determination and power about her, perhaps mixed with a touch of danger. All in all, Larry seemed to have become one with his character, or, more accurately, his character had assimilated him and made him into her image. Maybe the fact that I was again in my male body had something to do with my perception of her; at any rate, the person I had mostly regarded as little more than an irritating bitch at the party had turned into a seductress. I couldn't fathom what she was planning to achieve with this visit. Her parting words from the party night--"Have a nice life"--had sounded final enough for me to presume I would never see her again. I decided to remain as clear-headed as possible, to keep my antipathy towards her at bay and simultaneously disregard her charms. Regardless of what had happened before, I decided to hear her out. "What do you want?" I inquired in a casual manner. She pulled out a vacant chair and sat right next to me. Looking straight into my eyes, she said, "Well, I'd like to make up with you, Mike." This took me by surprise. I had assumed we would be mortal enemies for the rest of our lives, but here she was, offering me peace. As far as I could tell, there was no deceit. She sounded completely sincere and honest to me, and she had a look of openness in her lively dark brown eyes. "Are you serious?" I asked with a suppressed (and partially feigned) chuckle. "What you did---" "What I did," she interrupted me, "I did because I was hurt. You can't deny that you and Jake treated me like shit back in school. I don't like him. I have absolutely no reason to like him. Some of the things he said to me at the party really made me feel bad and brought up unpleasant memories." "Still, you're being pretty harsh." "Whatever. Jake got what was coming to him." "Look," I argued, "Jake is and always will be my friend. You might not like him, but I still can't simply ignore your stunt, whether it was meant to cause harm only to Jake or to all of us." "Mike," she said with a strong flavor of determination in her voice, "get over it. I didn't seriously think any of you would get stuck in those skins for good, even though Jake would have fully deserved that. Besides, all this melodramatic 'Oh my God, we're girls, this is the end of the world' crap is getting on my nerves. You make it sound like it's the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone! Why can't you see that life as a woman can be a great gift? What if it's just what you need to be happy? What if Charlie likes it, or Scott? Or even Jake? Stop acting like male chauvinist assholes and think positive!" "Jake got out of his skin," I pointed out. "Now that's too bad," Leslie commented on the news. "Compared to his old self, he was such a sight for sore eyes as Willow. In time, the character's personality would have softened him up and he would have made a really nice girl. What happened to Scott and Charlie?" "They're stuck for life." "Sorry for the collateral damage, but things simply didn't work out as I planned. I only meant to hit Jake." "And me, I presume." "Well, maybe, but there you are, which brings me to the reason for my coming here. I'm offering you a deal." "What kind of a deal is that?" She was clearly pleased with the fact that we had gotten to the point. With a beautiful, enticing smile, she said, "It's really simple. You give me something, I give you something in return. A win-win scenario." "What's my part?" "I want your forgiveness, and then you'll have mine. We'll put the past behind us." "Sounds fair enough." "So, you're taking the offer?" "I suppose I am, provided that you're not trying to pull another trick on me here." This was by no means an easy decision for me. I certainly like getting along with other people just as much as the next person, but I still wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to forgive Leslie. One part of me would have welcomed the peace, as putting this conflict to rest would have saved me a lot of energy needed elsewhere, but on the other hand a small doubt as to her true intentions and motives still lingered in my mind. Nevertheless, I was willing to give the d?tente a chance. "Scout's honor!" she said and smiled again. Then, so casually that I didn't react at first, she took a hold of one of my hands that had been resting on the table. The touch was soft and warm. "Leslie," I commented, "you were never a boy scout." "So?" she purred. "I can still keep my promises." A very sensual tone had snuck into her voice, and as we spent the next half a minute staring into each other's eyes, I began to understand what she was probably up to. I was fully expecting her to try to kiss me, but I was totally bewildered when it came to planning my own actions. Should I let her go on, or should I stop this? The original idea had been to stay calm and objective, but that was getting harder and harder by the second. The fact that Leslie was admittedly one of the most physically attractive women I had ever seen did nothing to help me. She was the first to break the silence, and for a moment I thought and hoped that I had gotten out of this situation. "About that offer of mine," Leslie began. "I didn't tell you everything. There's more." "Really?" She turned on her chair so that she was as close to me as she could possibly get without sitting on me. Her voice had softened and lowered in pitch, and it had almost become a whisper as she said to me, "We'll get ourselves a room and celebrate with a night of passion. I'm going to teach you what it means to make love for real... over and over again..." I could feel the warmth of Leslie's body as she leaned ever closer to me. Her moist lips nearly made contact with my cheek, and her hand was now resting on my thigh, dangerously near my crotch. Her intoxicating scent filled the air around me, and that alone would have been enough to excite me. "Naturally," she murmured into my ear, "we could... sample some appetizers before the main course... have a little quickie right here and now..." Her fingertips moved in small circles on my inner thigh, gently probing me through the denim of my pants, and I could feel her hot, light breath on my bare skin. I was in shock; this turn of events had been all but unimaginable to me, and I had rarely been more aroused in my whole life. I had already developed an erection that was hard enough to be almost painful. I felt utterly helpless as Leslie's breasts brushed against my arm through the fabric of our clothes. She was in total control of this situation; she was the predator and I was her prey, completely at her mercy. I knew that any gesture or even the slightest movement would set everything off. She would jump me at that instant and have her way with me, regardless of the fact that I was the man here. I would not be able to repel her, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. "I thought about having sex on your parents' bed," she cooed, blowing some air into my ear in the process and letting her left hand run through my hair as her right hand was almost groping my private parts. "Wouldn't that be fun? You could carry me upstairs and then we'd fuck... But I don't think I can wait... So, let's just do it here..." At that point, I was mere milliseconds away from yielding to the pressure and succumbing to Leslie's charms once and for all. I told myself that this sexy girl was in reality Lawrence Simmons, Larry Simmons, my old classmate, a man transformed by a skinsuit, but those facts felt meaningless along with all reason and logic. They could not possibly be compared with the mighty primal instincts that were about to take over. I needed every last scrap of my willpower to restrain myself. How I could deny myself the pleasures I was being offered is a mystery for all ages. "Leslie," I said as firmly as I could, trying to steady my faltering voice, "no. I can't." With that, the spell was broken. I was suddenly able to move and think again. Leslie pulled away and looked at me with an expression of disbelief and surprise on her face. "Run that by me again," she demanded. "You can't?" "I can't." "Shut the hell up," she ordered. "Let's just go. I'm soaking wet for you." "I really can't." "Now that's something I didn't see coming," she said, taken aback. "I thought we made up." "We did," I confirmed, "but that doesn't mean I have to have sex with you." It took a few seconds for my words to sink in. At first, Leslie had seemed merely puzzled, but suddenly anger began to distort the beautiful features of her face. She had realized I had just rejected her, and it was plain to see that she was not going to take the disappointment lightly. "You really are a piece of work!" she spat out. "Eliza Dushku throws herself at you, and you turn her down, just like that! Nice going there, buddy boy!" "In case you haven't noticed," I corrected her, rapidly growing more and more irritated myself, "you're not Dushku. You're nothing but a cheap imitation, cheap in every sense of the word." "The next best thing, nevertheless!" she countered. "Are you really saying you'd rather date those obese, rat-faced, untidy and utterly desperate college dropouts who go out with you out of pity and then dump you after a cup of coffee when they realize you can't even live up to their laughable standards? This is by far your best chance of getting laid with someone who really knows a thing or two about sex and looks fucking great, literally fucking great, and you screw it up!" By my own reckoning, I had had plenty of reasons to have negative feelings towards Leslie even before this encounter, and I had struggled to stifle them, but now even that was no longer enough. Her insults drove me very close to losing all control, and it was with extreme difficulty that I could--barely--contain my building rage. The enormous sexual tension in both of us had transformed into wrath and was seeking a way to pour out. "Leslie," I growled through gritted teeth, "I think you had better go. Right now." "Trying to push me around, huh, big guy?" she sneered. She had regained some of her previous composure and was apparently once more veiling her true feelings with that annoying smugness. I hoped that she would simply stare at me for a while and then storm out, but she was obviously in the mood for exchanging a few more shots. Her lips curved up in a malicious smile as she remarked, "I could take you by force, you know." "Take me?" "Yeah. I could kick your ass and then rape you if I wanted to." It was again my turn to be surprised. I didn't know whether her comment was a further insult or some sort of indication of her addled state of mind, but at any rate I let out an evil laughter. "Talk about delusional," I scoffed. "First you think you're Eliza Dushku, and now you're Faith the Slayer with superhuman powers. Seriously, get some help! You're one sick puppy." "Oh, is that so?" she taunted me in reply. "I wasn't kidding. I really could beat you up and then fuck your brains out, but it's hardly worth the trouble. You're not man enough for me. I bet your dick and balls didn't come back when Mandy helped you out of that suit of yours." She turned around to leave but couldn't resist firing one more venomous comment at me: "Mike, you know what? You're a pussy. Do us all a favor and put the Buffy skin back on. That way, you'll have the vagina to go with your mind, and you'll be way more pleasing to look at." "Out!" I ordered and pointed towards the foyer. This time, Leslie finally complied but shouted from the doorway, "This is not over! You'll hear from me!" "No, I won't, bitch!" I shouted back. The door was slammed shut violently. I could see her walking away in a huff through the kitchen window, and then she was gone. A second later the rage exploded inside my head. "Fuck!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I badly wanted to smash something, anything, to pieces. It was just as well that there were no fragile objects conveniently close at hand. "Fuck! Fuck this! Fuck everything!" After letting the words out, I stood there in silence for at least two minutes, taking deep breaths to steady my racing heartbeat and trying to regain the control of my emotions. Right there and then, I wanted to kill Leslie. I wanted her to suffer and die for what she had done. Taunting me was one thing and perhaps tolerable under different circumstances, but now that she had caused Charlie and Scott to be feminized for life and tried to arrange the same fate for me and Jake, she had crossed the border into acts unforgivable. This revolting attempt at seducing me was the frosting on the cake, the ultimate insult to be added to all the injuries we had suffered. Mom came home while I was again sitting somberly, almost apathetically, at the table. I hardly even noticed her before she greeted me. "Uh, hi," I replied, suddenly snapping out of my daze. "Kate called me as soon as Mandy got you out of the skinsuit," she said. "You don't believe how happy I am for you! It's finally over." She walked over to me and gave me a warm hug. In all likelihood, she would have been even more relieved had she known what I knew, but Kate and I had agreed not to let her in on how risky the restoration process actually was. We had not lied to her, only slightly downplayed the true gravity of the situation so as not to upset her needlessly. "Yeah, this is great," I said, trying my best to sound at least somewhat joyful. "The old me is back again. So is Jake." "What's the matter?" she inquired, instantly sounding worried. Even a complete stranger could probably have realized how dismal I was feeling, so it was no wonder Mom instantly picked up on it. "How about Scott and Charlie?" "There's the rub, Mom. They're stuck in their costumes." "Stuck? How?" "They've been wearing the skinsuits for too long. Mandy says that they are basically alright for the time being as far as their physical condition goes, but she simply can't turn them back into themselves anymore. They're going to be women for the rest of their lives." "And there's nothing that can be done?" "Nothing." "Dear God," she sighed. "Poor boys! So Amanda couldn't help them at all?" "No. She couldn't." "Mike," Mom declared, "you definitely need to go see them as soon as possible. I'll call Ellen and Don and Charlie's parents too later tonight. Do you know if Ellen's on the night shift today?" "I have no idea of her schedule," I said with resignation. "Besides, I think Charlie wants to be alone for a while, and maybe Scott does too. I would." "Well, have it your way then, but you should at the very least call them. They need you now." "I know. You don't have to tell me twice." "Alright. Now I'm going to grab a bite to eat, drink some coffee and then go out. I've been sitting indoors for the whole day and the weather's great. I think you should get some fresh air as well instead of rotting in here. Life goes on." "But I feel pretty rotten, to tell you the truth." "As you wish," she said in a sympathetic tone. "But be sure to remember to call Scott and Charlie." "Yeah. Oh, and by the way, Larry dropped by. Or Leslie, as she prefers to be called now." "Did she?" Mom said. "How's she doing?" "She's fine, except I'm going to kill her. The filthy little cocksucker actually tried to seduce me and got nasty when I told her off." "Oh my! What happened?" "Nothing much. We're no longer on speaking terms, but that's hardly a loss." "Did you say something to hurt her?" Mom asked. I knew that tone of voice well; she always used it when she was preparing to moralize and lecture me or was making absolutely sure I had behaved and would behave myself. "The question is," I retorted, "what she said to hurt me. I'm not the villain here." "Fine," she said and sighed. "I'm not going to pry into the details if you don't want to talk. You guys don't get along, and that's that. It's a shame, but what can I do?" Perhaps half an hour later she had finished her quick meal and gone outside as she had planned. We had exchanged a few more words, mostly on all sorts of trivial subjects but also on my friends. Mom tried to point out the fact that we had both mine and Jake's successful restorations to be thankful for, and while I agreed with her on that point, Charlie and Scott's fate weighed too heavily on my mind for me to be able to see anything positive about it--that is, other than that they were in good health. Even if they could cope with their new forms and lives without any psychological difficulties, nothing would ever be the same again for our little gang, or for our families, for that matter. ***** A cold, dense fog rested all over Greensville and its surroundings when I woke up on Thursday morning. It definitely seemed as if the last of the fall's warmth had been expended and that winter would very soon follow. It took the sun's rays almost until midday to dispel the clammy fog, and even then the air stayed chilly compared to the pleasant past few days. As I was looking out through my window at the barely visible landscape, the only real comfort for me was the fact that I was again living in my own body. The weather made me remain indoors until lunch. I ate with Mom and Kate before going out in the early afternoon, and even then I couldn't help but grimace as I stepped out the door and made my way to my car. While the temperature had become bearable, at least when I had my red pullover on, the visits I was expected to make that day weighed heavily on my mind. I had entertained a small hope that the fog would not lift and so give me an excuse to wait until tomorrow, but it had refused to cooperate. I was technically now cutting class for the fourth day, but that was among the least of my worries. Going back to the University in the shape of Buffy Summers had certainly been out of the question, and even though I no longer had that problem, I had decided I needed some more time to get myself mentally back together again. The lectures would have to wait until Monday next week. I reckoned I would not miss anything critical, and even if I did, my sanity was far more important in the long run than the grades of a couple of courses. I could always retake them, if I truly had to. The car radio was on and tuned to the frequency of some local station, so I had the questionable pleasure of listening to incredibly vapid pop songs all the way to Scott's parents' house. Even though I couldn't remember it, Kate must have changed the station when we had visited the mall on Monday; there was no way I could have endured anything like this even for part of the two-and-a-half-hour drive from the city. In general, my little sister thankfully had a somewhat more mature taste in music (and a number of other things) than most of her friends, but she still had her occasional shortcomings in that respect. Don and Ellen, Scott's parents, lived only about half a mile away. They had a fairly large red brick house with a spacious yard and a garden just outside the center of Greensville; a 100-yard gravel driveway led there from the main road. In the happier days of my childhood and adolescence, our small gang had very often congregated there for fun and games after school and during weekends and school breaks. Scott had always been like a younger brother to me, and that had made him one of us right from the start, even though Jake, Charlie and I were three years older than him. I parked my car outside the garage and strolled towards the main entrance of the house. I figured Scott was most likely to be found here. Last year, he had rented--together with Sammy--a small apartment in Chesterton where he worked, but he had still been mostly staying with his parents. Apparently the comfort of his childhood home and the discomfort of sharing rooms with Sammy had made him a bit reluctant to spend all his time in the apartment. Now that he was stuck in the form of a teenage girl, I reasoned, he was probably all the more averse to moving out completely. I knocked on the door and, upon finding out it was not locked, let myself in, as was my habit when visiting my uncle's house. As I had no jacket or coat on, I simply walked through the small foyer to see if anyone was at home. "Oh, hi, Mike!" Ellen exclaimed happily. Scott's mother had appeared almost out of nowhere and was smiling brightly at me. "How nice of you to visit us!" "Well, I thought I'd stop by," I said and managed a smile of my own. "I wanted to see how you guys are doing." "Come on in!" I followed her into the kitchen. She was busy baking: a large pie on a tray had just been taken out of the oven, another was waiting to be put in, and a delicious smell filled the room. Ellen was one of those people who never seemed to age. Even though she was now pushing fifty, she looked young enough to pass for thirty-five, maybe even thirty. She had a round face, pair of bright green eyes and a mane of light brown hair that was currently cut in pageboy style. To top this all off, she was slim and fit, particularly for a middle-aged working woman and a mother of three grownup children, Scott being her youngest. As a person, she was kind and conscientious but one who also knew how to maintain order and discipline when it came to unruly kids. "Please, sit down!" she said, and I took a seat at the kitchen table. "This pie's ready to eat as soon as it cools down a little. It's raspberry. Would you like some?" "Thanks, maybe later," I replied. "Smells lovely, and I'm sure it tastes lovely too." She put the other tray in the oven. As soon as the second pie was baking, she took her mittens off and began to wash some dishes. "Um, about what happened to Scott," I began a little hesitantly. "How... Are you alright?" She sighed, then turned to look at me. She still had a smile on her face, but I could see it was slightly strained. "It certainly was a huge surprise for me and Don," she said with a small laugh. "All these years I was bringing up a son, and one day, out of the blue, I'm told I have another daughter." "I'm still trying to come to terms with the whole thing myself." "So, you almost got stuck too in one of those costumes?" "Yeah, but Amanda Elkins managed to get me out. Apparently it was in the nick of time." "That's nice." "Well... It definitely is, for me. However, I must say I feel a little guilty about it." "How so?" "I mean, Scott didn't get out." Ellen sighed again and then remained silent for a few seconds, continuing washing her dishes. It was plain to see that despite her putting on a brave face, she was very confused and hurt for her son. She probably had started baking to get her mind off the whole sorry affair, I thought and began to wonder whether coming here today had been such a good idea after all. Maybe she didn't want to talk about this just yet and instead would have liked to have a day or two alone. "Oh well," she said finally. "Things could always be infinitely worse. Scott's doing fine, and even if he's inside the body of a 15-year-old girl right now, it's still him in there; I can tell. All the little things, like his smile and his way of talking, they're still right there." "I'm really relieved to hear that," I commented. "I look at that girl and see my son," she went on. "Besides, he doesn't seem too troubled by the change. As long as he's happy, I'm happy for him. It's just that me and Don are going to need some time to adjust, that's all." "How does Don feel about this?" "He's... not been quite as accepting," Ellen said with another smile, "but he'll come around. He's got a heart of gold. I think this hit him pretty hard, with Scott being our only son. He went out to get some groceries, so if you wait for a while, you'll get to have a word with him too." "Oh. By the way, I'd like to see Scott. Is he here now?" "Sure, he's upstairs. As a matter of fact, he won't be going anywhere for a week." "Why is that?" "He's grounded," Ellen told me and then shouted towards the stairs, "Scott! Scott, you have a visitor!" After two or three seconds, I heard quick steps from upstairs. Then there were sounds of someone running fast down the staircase, and in a matter of moments, Scott entered the kitchen. Even though I knew what to expect, I still felt an odd emptiness in my chest when I saw Dawn Summers come up to us. She was dressed in a pair of comfortable women's worn blue jeans and a pale pink sweater, and she had a touch of eye shadow and lipstick on. Her long hair was carefully groomed, and I noticed that her fingernails were painted deep red. There was no way anyone would have believed this person had been a twentysomething man just one week ago. "Mike!" she exclaimed happily and ran to me. With a wide smile on her lips, she flung her arms around me and pulled me into a hug. "You came!" "Yeah," I said, returning the hug in a more reserved manner. "I decided to check up on you." "That's so sweet of you," she said, loosening her hold on me. "I'm just great!" "So I see," I mused. "Although there's this one thing that really brings me down," she added with a frown. "Mom totally grounded me!" "What was that for?" I asked. "For making out with a boy!" she said. "We went to the mall yesterday, you see, me and Mom, and there was this cute guy, sixteen, blond hair, pretty tall, big blue eyes, sitting all alone on a bench. So, I chat him up and he tells me he's just broken up with his girlfriend. He looked so adorable and sad I simply couldn't resist! We talked for a while, he showed me around, and then he bought us some ice cream. I kinda started crushing on him, and we went back to the bench and, well, kissed just a little. We were not making out, unlike Mom says." "I never said you were making out," Ellen corrected her new daughter. "Yeah, you did!" she argued. "And we weren't making out! Okay, fine, so I let him kiss my neck once. But that was just once, and right then, Mom shows up and grounds me!" "You didn't get grounded for that," Ellen said sharply. "I might not like you kissing people you've barely even met, but what actually got you grounded was talking back to me the way you did. I won't tolerate something like that from my kids, as you should well know." "Mom!" she cried out. "I'm not a little child anymore!" "Then I suggest you start behaving accordingly," Ellen said. "This is totally embarrassing!" Dawn whined. "Mom, you're embarrassing me in front of Mike!" "Regardless," Ellen quipped, "you're still grounded. By the way, we'll have coffee and pie when your dad comes home, in case you want some." "Let's go," Dawn said in an exasperated tone and grabbed my hand. She guided me to Scott's old room upstairs, and I followed her, trying to resist the urge to pinch myself to see if I was awake. Aside from the Sunnydale episode, the conversation between her and Ellen had shaken me worse than virtually any of the weird experiences I had gone through so far. Not only did Scott look and sound exactly like a teen girl; he, or rather she, also acted like one. She had already tried to snag a boyfriend and had been caught kissing him by her mother, and her way of talking was absolutely nothing like Scott's. The small mannerisms, gestures and the body language overall were equally alien. I even smelled a hint of perfume as she was running up the stairs in front of me. All this gave me a sinking feeling that Ellen's hopeful outlook on getting to keep her son was baseless. Scott's room was upstairs at the northern end of the house, with its window offering a view of the backyard. The interior had not changed at all since my last visit, which had been some six months ago: the majority of the floor space was occupied by a bed, a desk with a laptop computer and a book cabinet that housed Scott's collection of various magazines and his trophies from his middle and high school years (generally speaking, he wasn't much of a book reader, let alone a book owner). A small closet for clothes adjoined the room. Dawn sat down on the bed and motioned me to sit next to her. She curled up with her legs tucked under her, something else I had never seen Scott do, and threw a stray magazine on the floor to make room for me. She had obviously been reading it before I had arrived. "I know what you're thinking," she said when I had sat down. "This place looks dreary. But don't worry, I'm going to redecorate here as soon as I have the time." "Personally, I don't see a huge problem with it," I commented. "Sure, it's a little bit austere, but---" "No, it sucks. That gray-blue wallpaper is absolutely depressing. It's got to go. And the closet's full of ratty men's stuff that wouldn't even fit me. We already agreed with Mom that we'll be giving Scott's clothes to Salvation Army." "I suppose you'll have a lot of shopping to do then," I said. "Yeah, do I!" she exclaimed. "I've got to start from scratch and build myself an entire wardrobe. On the other hand, it's fun to plan my new looks and styles. I've been writing down a list of things I'll be needing, and it's like two pages long already!" I glanced at the magazine that was now lying on the floor. Sure enough, it was some women's fashion publication, the kind of reading material the old Scott would have had no interest in. Chances were Ellen and Don would soon have to deal with covering a major shopping bill for their newest daughter, I thought wryly. "Look, Scott---" I began, but she interrupted me, "Dawn. Please, call me Dawn." She gave me a sweet smile. "Would you mind?" "No, not at all," I said, having immediately forgotten what I was going to say to her. "However, don't you think it could be a little... well, problematic for you if you went by that in public? People would wonder why you not only look like a fictional character but also have the exact same first name." "Who cares what they think?" she countered. "I mean, Dawn is my name, my real name. That's who I am now, just as I used to be Scott. Anything else would feel... I don't know, wrong." "Naturally, it's up to you what you want to be called," I admitted. "I'm not saying you can't choose." "By the way, it's going to be official," she pointed out excitedly. "Mandy's helping me with the paperwork. She said she will have people deliver the new documents and all that to me in a couple of days. And when I turn 16, I'll automatically get a driver's license because Scott had one! Yay!" "You haven't by any chance taken Summers to be your new family name, have you?" "Of course not! That would be just silly. I've already got a family and a family name, and I'm happy with them the way they are." "Do you have to go back to school?" I inquired. "Um, I don't know yet," she admitted. "I'm sure I'd do way better there than Scott ever did, and of course that would be a great way to make new friends and get to meet guys, but then again, I'm not so enthusiastic about having to do everything a second time. I guess there's pros and cons to the whole thing. Maybe Mandy can arrange something for me." "I see. And I take it you'll be living here for the time being?" "Sure. I don't think Mom and Dad would let me stay alone in the apartment!" she said with a giggle. "They're kind of overprotective." "How's Sammy dealing with this?" Dawn shifted on the bed and assumed a more comfortable position. "Well, she's not exactly overjoyed, I guess," she replied with a soft sigh. "Since neither of us is into girls, we can't really date anymore, but I talked with her on the phone yesterday and we decided to stay friends." "Nice to hear that," I commented. "I could use her help with a lot of things, and she's a kind person, at least deep down." Sammy had probably had a lot of fun when she had succeeded in luring Scott into the Dawn skinsuit, but she had certainly gotten more than she had bargained for, I thought to myself as I watched my feminized cousin. In a way, I have to admit I considered Scott turning permanently into a girl Sammy's overdue comeuppance, and it wasn't an entirely negative thing as such, but it had cost me dearly as well. The person I was talking with struck me as a near-complete stranger, precisely as I had feared, and I could no longer resist broaching the topic. "Dawn," I said a little hesitantly, "do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" "No problem." "Do you feel there's anything left of Scott in you, or is he... completely gone?" A serious look appeared on her face, and she caught my eyes with hers. Then, with a faint smile, she said, "I remember everything about him and I have him right here." She pointed at her heart. "He'll be alive as long as I am. He's safe with me." "But--if you'll excuse me--you act and sound nothing like him." "Of course not! I'm Dawn, not Scott." It was my turn to let out a quiet forlorn sigh. "Don't be sad," she said and took hold of one of my hands. She squeezed it in her own, small, soft and warm hand. "My life is so much better now. Believe me, I wouldn't go back to being Scott even if I could. I feel... I just feel so good as me, as if I was living in the wrong body all along before this happened. But now everything's finally right." "Oh." "I'll be honest with you," she continued. "You see, Scott had these issues. He told you about some of them, but not everything. He... There were days when it was really difficult for him to put on a happy face and pretend everything was okay when he was hurting inside. It wasn't like that all the time, naturally, but sometimes, when the depression came, he was really down. He felt he had no reason to live. But that is behind me now. The demons he had to fight are not coming back. They'll never bother me again." A lump was forming in my throat as I listened to her. The person I had known, the person who had been like a brother to me, had been replaced with someone else. I actually needed to do something that was not often necessary for me: will myself not to cry. To make matters worse, she looked at me, with a tiny teardrop running down her cheek, and said quietly, "Mike, please, be happy for me. I know this is hard for you, just like it is for my parents and my sisters, but... be happy for me, will you?" "I'll try," I managed to croak. Her lips curved up to a joyful smile, and suddenly I found myself on the receiving end of another tight hug from her. "We'll still be best friends, just like before," she declared against my shoulder. "Sure," I said and swallowed hard. "Now that we've been talking about me," she said, having let go of me, "let's talk about you. So--was it easy for you to get out of the Buffy skin?" "I don't know for certain what happened," I confessed, "but from what Mandy told me, it was a close call. I have no idea what she did to get me out, but it seemed to work." "Right. What happened to the skin?" "She took it away with her. I gathered she was going to fix it so the girls can use it again in their roleplay sessions." "Did she say how long that'll take?" "To fix the skin? No, I don't recall her saying anything about that." "Oh. That's too bad." "You seem awfully interested in the skinsuit," I remarked. This made her squirm visibly. "I... It's not that," she stammered. "I'm just, you know, curious and stuff." "I'd say so." "And... Well, to be absolutely truthful, I... I wanted to know if you'd like to wear it again." "The Buffy skinsuit? Oh no, no way. I've had enough of that damn thing." She looked disappointed and almost hurt. "But could you, like, reconsider?" she pleaded. "I mean, if Mandy fixes the suit, then you can't get stuck, right?" "That's still a risk I'm not willing to take," I said. "But there is no risk if the suit works." "Why should I wear it, anyway?" "Because." "Because of what?" "I... I'd like to be with my sister," she explained meekly. "You have two of them," I pointed out. "You can hang out with them whenever you like." "Yeah, but that's different. I meant... with Buffy." "With Buffy? You know she's not real, don't you?" "She is real too!" Dawn argued. The poor girl was clearly close to tears. "She's real to me. When you were in that skin, I felt so close to her--to you. She was here for me. She's my family, just like my Mom and Dad and Scott's sisters, and I miss her so terribly right now." I was at a loss of words. I realized I had to talk sense into her but I had no idea how to do that. I had made a final, irrevocable decision never to touch the Buffy skinsuit again as long as I lived, and I thought I had made that very clear to everyone. Nevertheless, I had not reckoned on having to persuade a sweet, sad teen girl of that fact. The imploring look in her bright, big blue eyes and the slight quivering of her lip were almost too much for me to bear. "You wouldn't have to wear the suit all the time," she offered hopefully after a silence of a couple of seconds. "Just every now and then, for a day or two, so we can do something nice together or simply hang out. That would be enough for me." "Look, I already told you no," I said calmly, trying not to sound overly harsh. "Besides," she went on, "in the long run, you might well be happier as Buffy than as Mike." "Extremely unlikely." "You should have waited for a few more days with the skin. Then you could be feeling the same as I am." "Then I would have been stuck for life, that's for sure." "And that's a bad thing because...?" "I don't want to live as an imaginary person, a TV show character," I said. "I want to be me." "Am I imaginary to you?" Dawn asked me. "No, but... it's different for you." "How?" "You obviously like being Dawn," I explained to her, hoping she would finally understand and come around to my point of view, "but I hated being Buffy. The body felt wrong to me. I was scared and had nightmares." "I'm sorry for you," she said empathetically and touched my shoulder. "I'm sure it'll turn out better next time. Just let go of your fears and enjoy the ride." "We shall see," I conceded, or at least pretended to. In actuality, I still had no intention of becoming Buffy Summers again, even for Dawn, but it was obviously no use arguing about it with her. That would only make her sadder, and perhaps her psyche was already fragile enough as it was, her own claims to the contrary notwithstanding. "I won't make any promises, but maybe I can work something out." "I'd love that," she said, and her face lit up. She was so enthralled by the idea of the two of us going out as the Summers sisters that she began to make plans immediately. They included all sorts of activities, anything from going shopping for clothes to a makeover at a beauty salon; in short, a hodgepodge of typically girly things. I let her chatter on and didn't pay particularly close attention to what she was saying. I probably should have stopped her and told her that her plans were unlikely ever to become reality, but I no longer had the heart to do so. I had begun to wonder if alcohol was to blame, at least partially. During the party, the girls had said something to the effect that one shouldn't drink while wearing a skinsuit, but Scott had done exactly that, to the extent that he was vomiting when we arrived home, and he had then passed out. As far as his personality was concerned, he had been mostly himself until that moment, but when he woke up the next morning, surprisingly without the slightest hangover, the new girlish persona was immediately in full control. Could it be that intoxication was what had allowed the skin to overwhelm its wearer? Maybe Larry had gotten smashed as well at some point before the party, with the familiar results. If that was the case, Jake, Charlie and I had been very fortunate not to have drunk any more than we had; and Charlie, while stuck in the Cordelia skin, might have retained more of his own personality. It was probably wise not to trust that hope, though. This train of thought led me to another small observation. I was still far from being an expert on the Buffy characters, but nevertheless Dawn, as portrayed on the show, had impressed me basically as a smart but (perhaps understandably) angst-ridden, whiny and occasionally bratty kid who had been mostly disliked by the fans, at least initially. However, that incarnation of hers who was keeping me company definitely had a far more positive outlook on life. Even though she apparently had her mood swings and was grounded for what must have been a tantrum of epic proportions, happiness for just being alive seemed to be her most typical emotion. This could mean that either I was seeing a side of her that was usually hidden by the drama of her fictitious life, or the skins in fact only replicated the physical appearance of the characters faithfully and took much greater liberties with their personalities. Then, of course, there was also the possibility that the Dawn skin symbiont was now rewarding the former Scott for being its host by keeping her brain full of endorphins. If that was so, she could be in for a deep bout of depression when the high eventually wore out, and her first period and PMS would probably be a thing to remember for everyone around her. "...and then kiss the guys, like in the movies," she ended her soliloquy. "Wouldn't that be awesome? We really have to do that one day." "Um, sure," I said. "It sounds nice. As for now, I'm afraid I need to be leaving. I promised to go see Charlie too." "Can't you stay for a little while longer?" Dawn asked. "You just got here." "Maybe some other time. I'll come back tomorrow or the day after that, if I can make it." "And if Mandy has fixed the Buffy skin by then, you'll put it on?" "Uh... Like I said, we have to see about that. I won't promise you anything." I got on my feet, and she followed suit. We then walked downstairs at a leisurely pace, to be greeted by Ellen at the bottom of the stairs. "Don will be home any minute," she said. "How about some pie, kids?" "Mom," Dawn complained, "we're not kids!" "I'm sorry," I told Ellen, "but I really need to go check up on Charlie. I have no idea how he's doing." "Oh, that's too bad," Ellen lamented. "I'm making some coffee as well, and the pie's ready for you guys to dig in." "It really pains me to miss the pie, but I guess I have no choice," I said and let out a chuckle. "Like I told Dawn, I try to come back to visit you guys soon. Maybe tomorrow, if all goes well." "Then we'll save some for you," Ellen said with a smile. "Thanks! You know how much I love your cooking." With this, my visit had come to an end. I walked out of the front door, with Dawn following me outside. She gave me yet another hug, told me to drive safely, and remained behind to watch me leave while I got into my car. I started the engine, backed a little to get some more space, and then turned the car around. Dawn was still standing on the steps outside of the house, smiling happily and waving goodbye to me, and I briefly waved back and smiled at her as well, but my smile was strained and fake. In a few seconds, I was back on the road, with the yard, the house and its occupants out of my view. It was just as well, for I felt I might have broken down in tears at any moment if I had had to stay there. There was no denying it: Scott was gone, and in his place there was now a teen girl. Maybe she had his memories and maybe she lived with his parents who liked to pretend that nothing had happened, but she was not Scott, in body or in mind. No matter how happy she was with her life, I had lost a family member as surely as if he had died. As I drove on, I began to have second thoughts about visiting Charlie. Since Scott had essentially become Dawn Summers and lost all traces of his own personality, Charlie had in all likelihood turned equally completely into Cordelia Chase, and instead of my old friend, I would soon meet a beautiful young woman I hardly even knew. I doubted if I could deal with another such blow in a single day. My sense of duty was telling me to turn right at the next crossroads and drive to his house, but every other part of me was looking for any excuse whatsoever to cancel or at least postpone the visit. While I was trying to decide what to do, the car radio was playing another insipid pop tune, sung by some soon-to-be-forgotten teen sensation, and in a rapidly building anger at this perfect scapegoat I reached for the tuner controls to change the station. Before I could do that, however, I suddenly noticed a red Chevrolet going slowly right in front of me, and I had to brake so as not to rear end it. I didn't get dangerously close to it, but I was still a bit startled, as the road had been all but empty just seconds before. As soon as the traffic situation was again under control, I noticed that the music on the stereo had changed abruptly. The girl singer moaning about her lost love had been cut off in the middle of a word, and instead there was now David Bowie brashly proclaiming over the cheers of an audience, "This ain't rock 'n roll... This is genocide!" The radio was turned off, and my own MP3 collection was playing. That was not my doing; I hadn't even had the time to touch the panel with my finger before I had seen the other car. Besides, I suddenly had my old denim jacket on--and I had left home without a jacket, wearing just my red pullover. There was only one explanation: I must have been transported into another reality again, and this was probably the present day. I pulled my cell phone out of my trouser pocket and was immediately provided with the final, inconvertible proof. Even my parents considered my current phone decrepit and kept telling me to get myself a new one, yet it would have been years ahead of its time in the mid-2000s. There was no way I could have owned anything like that back when the mad Halloween party had supposedly taken place. The shift had been absolutely seamless and so fast I had not even realized it until after it had taken place. One second I had been visiting my cousin who had been magically turned into a girl, and the next I was just on a prosaic vacation in my home town, more than a decade later. The location was exactly the same, the road was the same, and even the car, but the time and the reality itself were different. Still, it was worrying to think that this could happen without any kind of warning. My luck might well run out at some point, and I could find myself standing in front of a speeding freight train after the next transition. I could only hope the power that was toying with me-- whoever or whatever it was--knew what it was doing and would not let me come to harm. My dilemma concerning visiting Charlie was neatly solved, since there were no skinsuits in this reality and so he was very likely doing just fine and minding his own business (which was, I supposed, also true for Scott), but on the other hand, I now had no idea where I was supposed to be going and why. I considered pulling up on the side of the road and checking if my duffel bag was in the trunk, signifying that I had left home and was going back to the city, but I decided not to bother. I would remember the reason for my drive in this reality sooner or later, and besides, it was likely something laughably trivial compared to what was happening to me. Right there and then, I made up my mind and headed to Smithfield. I needed to talk to Jake. Jake no longer lived with his parents in this timeframe, so it made little sense to look for him at their house. After he had moved out the second time in the mid-2000s, he had settled in a larger town some forty miles from Greensville. Apparently he still occasionally visited his folks, but far more seldom than I visited mine; instead, for reasons that were not entirely clear to me, he would much rather stay with his uncle who lived in Smithfield. The uncle's house was on top of a small hill, surrounded by a patch of trees. It was a typical home of a fairly well-to-do middle-aged couple, a spacious two-story building with large windows and an attached garage. Jake, however, usually occupied the small cabin across the lawn from the main house. He had once told me that the cabin had been there before the house and his uncle had lived in it until he could afford to have the house built. Nowadays the cabin mostly provided guest accommodation, and as such, Jake typically had it at his disposal whenever he paid a visit to his relatives and stayed overnight or for several days, as he often did. It offered him comfort and privacy, and he could find company by walking twenty yards to the main house. I pulled up at the end of the uncle's driveway and parked my car next to his and Jake's. I didn't have to look far for my friend, because he emerged from the cabin as soon as I had turned off the engine. Getting out of my car, I waved at him, and he waved back, a wide smile on his lips. I noticed almost at once that he looked to be in a pretty good shape: he had lost some weight since the previous decade, and the trademark beard was neatly trimmed and clean. "Hi, Mike!" he exclaimed from the porch of the cabin. "Nice of you to drop by!" "As you were around and I was passing through here, I figured I'd bother you a second time," I said, walking up to him. I was supposed to have met him and gone to the shooting range with him just a day or two ago, but I had no recollection whatsoever of that occasion. It felt weird to greet him casually when he probably remembered my last visit perfectly but my mind told me that had never happened. "Have a seat," Jake offered and pointed to the two garden chairs set on the porch. I took up his suggestion gladly, and he sat on the other chair right next to me. "So, what's new?" "Nothing much," I said with counterfeit casualness. Actually, there was a lot, and my brain was busy at work, trying to come up with a comfortable way to start a discussion on a very strange topic. "So, you're staying here for a couple of days more, right?" "I might go see my Mom at some point," he replied, "but yes, I'm in no hurry to leave. I still have a few more days of vacation left." "That's nice. Maybe we could arrange something before we have to go our separate ways again--I mean, in addition to the target practice." "If and when you have any ideas, let me know," he said. "By the way, is your work coming along well?" "You mean my thesis? Oh, I guess I could say it's progressing, slowly but... slowly." "What about the University life in general?" he asked. "How are the old stomping grounds?" "It's fast becoming an absolute madhouse," I said with a heavy sigh. "You wouldn't even believe what the campus is like these days." "That bad, huh?" "Worse. It's swarming with rabid extremist folk who apparently have nothing better to do than to complain about everything. Almost every other day there's a demonstration or lectures get canceled, only because some special snowflake decided to get their precious feelings hurt. I don't know how they even come up with their stuff, but some of the totally imaginary grievances I've heard them bitch about should qualify anyone for a lifetime in a psychiatric ward." "I guess our civilization is going the way of Rome," Jake mused. "I mean, how fucked up can things get? I'm waiting for them to declare any time now that being a white heterosexual male is a crime and that we should all be put in a concentration camp." "They're one step ahead of you. I think I did see someone carrying a banner saying just that a few weeks ago." "I'm not even surprised anymore." "Remember when we actually believed there was going to be a bright future?" I said wistfully. "It was supposed to be only a matter of time when we'd have fusion energy, flying cars and spaceships with warp drive, and whenever we read a piece of science news that even hinted in that direction, we'd be psyched for a week. We almost thought that we would get to live in some space opera universe." "I call that naivet?, but then, everybody is naive at that point in their lives. I wouldn't be too hard on our former selves for thinking silly things like that." "I wasn't criticizing us," I pointed out, "I was reminiscing. I want those days back." "Don't we all, man. Hey, that reminds me; is the Sci-Fi Club at the University still in business?" "It is, but it's not the same, not even close. It has been infected by the same disease that's spreading around the campus. You know, I went there some time last year to see if it was still worth visiting. I found out it wasn't." "Oh boy. I can imagine." "It's been taken over by hipsters with manbuns and stupid-looking beards, morbidly obese unhygienic people hating everyone who's not an avowed radical feminist, and 30-year-old guys beating off to My Little Ponies. If they are what today passes for a nerd, then I'm not one anymore. I don't want anything to do with them." "Yeah, you're not a nerd," Jake affirmed. "You're just a disgruntled ex-serviceman and a misfit." "I mean, the sheer amount of human depravity concentrated in that house is staggering. I'm amazed if there's one person there who can hold down a meaningful job in the future. It would be a huge favor to the society if... if..." "If somebody took an assault rifle and shot the place up real good," Jake completed my sentence for me and smirked. I was startled by his words, not because of the brutality of the thought they expressed but because they hit too close to home. Killing dozens of basically innocent people was not something I could ever seriously contemplate, even if I had had the means to carry it out; still, this was as though Jake had somehow seen into the darkest and deepest recesses of my soul and shown to me, quite nonchalantly and half jokingly, the hideous monsters lurking there. I was horrified by what I saw. "I wouldn't go quite that far," I said and let out a strained laughter. "Just putting them into psychiatric treatment would be nice for starters." "Ah, but that will just cost the society more. Why not remove the problem once and for all? You can get a twenty-round box of .223 Remington for less than six bucks." I realized it was high time to change the subject. I hadn't come here to work out a plan for a campus shooting, but to lighten my own heart and hopefully get some good advice from my closest friend. "To be honest," I said with a chuckle, "it might be that I'm the one who ends up in an institution, if things keep going like this." "What do you mean by that?" Jake inquired. "Well, it's just that... How should I put this? It's sort of hard to explain, but..." "Yeah? Please go on." It took me several seconds to find the words, but finally I managed to string together a coherent sentence: "For a few days now, I've felt as if I'm living in some kind of a dream. Or multiple dreams, to be more exact. Everything around me seems strange and sort of unreal to me." "In what way?" Jake asked. "On a second thought, 'unreal' is not really a fitting description; scratch that. But anyway, one moment I am here, talking to you or doing whatever I'm supposed to be doing, and everything is pretty much normal. Then, suddenly, I am--or at least it seems so to me--back in the past, some time around 2005 or 2006. I think I may be dreaming it, but it feels entirely real to me, down to the tiniest detail. Everybody I know is there, only younger, and I interact with them just like I do with people here." "That sure sounds strange," Jake commented thoughtfully. "Where are you when you are back in the past?" "Mostly in Greensville. Both my Mom and my Dad are still working, the old railroad siding is there, you live with your parents, and Kate and her friends are teenagers. From what I've seen, the place is completely authentic." "Wow. Now that's a pretty unique thing to experience." "Jake, do you remember the Star Trek episode where Captain Picard gets transported back and forth between the present, the future and the past?" "Oh yeah, sure. It was the final episode of the Next Generation, wasn't it? He finds out that Q is fooling around with him, and he has to stop a disaster that he himself caused, or will cause, depending on the timeframe. A real classic." "Right. I know exactly how our friend Jean-Luc must have felt, because if it wasn't such a crazy idea, I'd say that the same thing is happening to me." A short silence followed. Jake was clearly deep in thought, and for a while, he stared into the distance, trying to process what he had just heard from me. Almost anyone else (outside of my immediate family, at the least) would have laughed in my face or suggested I seek professional help as soon as possible, but not Jake. No matter how some people might revile him for his political views or offensive sense of humor, he had an admirably open mind when it came to things like this. "So, you're certain it's not a dream?" he spoke. "Not really, no. There's no way for me to be certain about that, but both places or times definitely feel real, like I said, and it seems to me that I'm awake. When I'm there, that world is tangible and concrete and this one here is like a fantasy, and when I'm back here, it's the other way around." "And you can't think of anything that might have caused you to... lose touch with reality?" "No, I can't, but this comes with the same qualification as the previous answer. If I really was psychotic, I suppose I wouldn't realize it myself." For a second or two, I was seriously considering confiding in him the misadventure with the shapeshifting skins and my visit to Sunnydale, but at the last possible moment I decided against it. My story was a lot to take in for Jake as it was. "I'm not an expert at this," he said after another pause, "but knowing you, I'm inclined to take your story at more or less face value. I think something strange has occurred to you; I can see it. And whether or not it's objectively real, it certainly is subjectively real to you." "I might say that too." "But the thing is, Mike--I wonder if there's actually a difference there. You remember when I told you about the experiences I once had? The premonition one, and the other one?" "Of course." "So, chances are that the dichotomy between real and unreal, as it is usually understood and applied, may be way too simplistic. I don't remember who said it, but I always liked it." "You could be onto something," I admitted. "I think so too. Now, we have both experienced things our common sense can't easily explain, except by assuming that we were temporarily insane, or something to that effect. But what if we weren't? Maybe reality itself sometimes works in an unusual way for a short time and then goes back to what we perceive as normal." "Or if the whole world is a computer simulation," I added, "there are occasional bugs in the source code. Or perhaps the Demiurge fell asleep on his job." "Exactly. And besides, if and when the guy wakes up, I've got a few complaints for him." "As do I. I can't say I have particularly enjoyed the fact that my life has turned into a Philip K. Dick novel, but it might be a little easier to bear if I knew it was more than just a random coincidence. Then again, maybe it's not a coincidence. Who knows." "Indeed, who knows," Jake mused and leaned back in his chair. "Do things happen for a reason or not?" Our conversation paused for a moment after reaching this philosophical depth. Even Jake, who typically was ever ready with a witty quip or a smart comment, decided to take the time to process what had been said. We both breathed in the fresh air and enjoyed the warm rays of the sun that were still reaching us from behind the tops of the trees. "I know just what we both need," I finally uttered, breaking the silence. Jake was immediately interested. "What's that? Tell me." "A long vacation. Let's just hop into a car and drive the hell away from here. We'll go on an extended road trip." My friend nodded approvingly at this. "Sounds good to me. I only have to arrange for some more time off, but as soon as that is taken care of, I'm in." "We'll leave everything behind and come back when we feel like it," I went on. "All we need is some money and clothes. The rest will take care of itself." I could already see Jake and myself, maybe Scott and Charlie as well, heading for the sunset in my car. The destination was not important; getting there, the journey itself, would be the part that mattered. I could put my thrice-cursed thesis and the campus idiots out of my mind, and with any luck, my recent trials and tribulations, whether caused by switching between parallel universes or simply an impromptu psychosis, would also come to an end. "Hey, I know the perfect place for us to go!" Jake exclaimed. "My grandparents used to live in a small house in the Texas Panhandle. It's still there." "Is that like a ranch?" I asked. "Well, sort of. The real estate includes some land, not much by Texan standards, but more than enough to guarantee privacy. The house is pretty isolated." "Who lives there now?" "Nobody, permanently, but my family still owns it. It's mostly used like a winter resort. My dad and his two brothers have the keys to the house, and whenever they feel like it, they go and spend some time there. Basically all you have to do is keep the place in good order and fix anything that's broken." "So, do you think we could stay there for a few days?" "Absolutely; even weeks. I've been there a couple of times before, and I'm sure my family would have no objections, as long as we don't trash the whole house. In all likelihood, they would be pleased that somebody's looking after it and keeping it warm." "That sounds good!" I said. "It's a long drive, sure, but so much the better. I'd love to get some miles between the University and me." "How about you ask Charlie and Scott if they'd like to come too," Jake suggested. "The more the merrier, especially in a remote place such as that." "You, my friend, you just read my mind. I was wondering if we could bring them as well. They might be busy with work, but maybe they could arrange something, at least if we warn them well ahead of time." "I'm hoping for the best. It would be fantastic if the old gang could hit the road together." "Definitely. God knows I need a vacation, but I don't want to leave alone." "I'm sure you won't have to. I'll keep you company, even if the guys are too busy." We next spent a good quarter of an hour planning the details of our upcoming little odyssey, and when those seemed to be in a decent order, I decided it was time to go home. We said our goodbyes and promised to keep in close touch. There was a lot to do, things to arrange, and I had already fully convinced myself that the road trip would likely be the best cure anyone could prescribe me. I would not let the opportunity slip by. I started the engine and drove off, waving Jake goodbye. Once again, I was thankful for having him as a friend. I still lacked the answers I wanted, of course, but I did feel better than before. No matter how hard it was, the best way to deal with my problems was to keep a cool head and retain a philosophical attitude. Besides, I now had something to look forward to: in a couple of weeks at the most, we would be heading for the Lone Star State, hopefully all four of us. Instead of turning right towards Greensville at the junction where Uncle White's driveway joined the country road, I turned left. My plan was to go first through Smithfield and then return to Greensville by circling to the east and south. I figured I needed some more time to think, and the solitude I had behind the wheel seemed almost ideal for that purpose. My music collection had resumed playing, and the randomized list was treating me to "Let It Bleed" by the Stones as I passed through the sleepy little center of Smithfield. The song felt oddly appropriate for my situation, and with a small chuckle, I made a mental note of adding "19th Nervous Breakdown" to the memory stick as soon as I had the opportunity. I wasn't really any closer to finding a proper solution to the mystery that was plaguing me, and I soon began to drift deeper in thought, only paying just enough attention to the traffic not to cause an accident. While I had been talking with Jake, a somewhat unsettling idea had begun to form in the back of my mind, and now I was fully aware of it. What if this was another illusion? Perhaps none of the apparent realities I had experienced--Sunnydale, the Greensville of the mid- 2000s, or even the Greensville of today--was actually real, or at least any more real than the others. Sure, the frame of reality I then found myself in was by far the most plausible place, the world that made the most sense, with no hint of transforming skinsuits or demons anywhere, but did that prove anything? My whole life could be a figment of imagination--and perhaps not even mine but somebody else's. The song began its penultimate chorus, and as a young Mick Jagger was belting his heart out ("Bleed it alright, bleed it alright, you can bleed all over me"), an image of the violet-haired freak appeared in my mind. I hadn't been thinking of him (or her) at all lately, but there he was again in front of me, with a strange sneer or grimace on his emaciated face. This time, however, I noticed a drop of blood running down his cheek. He stood absolutely motionless, almost like a lifeless statue, his eyes wide open and staring at me. Another blood drop followed down his other cheek, leaving a dark red trail, and then he fell silently backwards, with a neat round hole in the middle of his forehead. Somebody had just shot him dead. He was laying on the ground right next to my feet, his eyes still gazing upwards, as if asking why this had happened to him. It was then that I realized that the bullet could only have come from my direction, as it had hit him squarely in the face. Even though it was pleasantly warm inside the car, I suddenly began to shudder almost uncontrollably. Was this only a dream or a macabre fantasy of mine, maybe inspired by the song's lyrics, or had I actually witnessed a murder? Or had I committed one? I tried to concentrate on my memories of the encounter with the freak, but the more I thought about it, the less certain I was of the details. Had I been going to work or leaving for home when it took place? Was it morning or evening? And had I been carrying a gun? Just a few minutes prior, I would have dismissed such a notion with a laugh, but now it dawned on me, to my horror, that I could no longer be truly certain of anything that had happened yesterday or any time before that. False and real memories had mixed into a hopeless mess in my head, and there was no more telling them apart. Then, an even more gruesome scenario suggested itself. If I had finally snapped and killed one annoying person, what would have stopped me from killing several? Even though I immediately decided to shut out the possibility of my having perpetrated an armed rampage at the campus, I could no longer suppress the thought once it had occurred to me. Besides, it was almost too good an explanation for my current mental state--my mind had detached itself from reality to try to shield itself against the horrific trauma and guilt of a shooting spree by myself. What had I left behind at the University? I felt something approaching a compulsion to go back to the city at once and find out what had happened. Without making a conscious decision to do so, I turned onto the highway east of Smithfield, sped up and began a headlong drive onward. Soon after, I saw a Highway Patrol cruiser going in the opposite direction, with its lights flashing brightly. A sudden feeling of fear washed over me, and I instinctively slumped down in the seat, in a pathetic effort to be less conspicuous, but the patrolman just kept going, paying no attention to me. In a few seconds, the cruiser had vanished from sight to the rear, and I was again almost alone on the road. Miles passed by, and the landscape started to grow ever darker under the cloudy, dull-gray sky. I told myself I was supposed to turn around at the next convenient intersection, or at least to call my parents to let them know I was safe, but I couldn't find the strength of will to do either. Something kept me going forward, and I couldn't break the strange spell I was under. I recall passing by a gas station and a huge truck, coming from the station yard and turning onto the highway right in front of me to my dismay, but afterwards, my memories become very fragmented and vague, as if I had not been fully conscious the whole time I was driving. There is a strange, dream-like picture of thick blue smoke billowing all over the road, but apart from that, the remainder of my journey has disappeared from my mind. All I think I can remember is a part of a song--almost certainly the intro to "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd- -playing on the stereo and repeating over and over. I thought I could still hear it when I woke up with a start. The car and the highway were gone, and I was lying on my bed in my city apartment. My heart began to race, and I immediately threw the blanket aside, jumped on my feet and stood in the middle of the floor, stark naked and utterly confused, trying to comprehend what had happened. "Good morning, big boy," a young woman's sensual voice purred from behind my back. I turned around, feeling an unpleasant tingling down my spine. Even though I had by now learned to expect absolutely anything, I was still dumbstruck by what I saw: Leslie Simmons, lying on her side and with a seductive smile on her beautiful face. She was just as naked as I was, and we had obviously been occupying the bed together. "It's you!" I exclaimed. "How? I... What the hell is this?" "What does it look like?" she asked with a smirk and got up. I made an instinctive attempt to cover my private parts with my hands, whereas she did nothing of the sort, and so her body was on full display right in front of me. For a second, I was taken aback by this, until I realized just how ridiculous my modesty was in this situation. "You really don't remember, Mike?" she asked me. "Um," I muttered, "to be honest, I can't say I do." "Guess I must have blown your mind pretty good, then," she chuckled. "Okay, here's a short recap. I just showed up last night and then we fucked like wild animals. You were kinda apprehensive at first, but you got over it, thanks to me. End of story." "What? Is that really what happened?" I inquired. It was not that I doubted her so much as I wanted to give my mind a chance to clear up a little before something else unimaginable could happen. "Pretty much. The last time I saw you I made the mistake of trying to talk to you first, but I learned from that. Now I just grabbed you by the cock right away, without giving you the time to make a fuss, and the rest is history." She took a step closer to me and continued, a pleased smile on her lips, "I've got to hand it to you, though. I imagined it would be pretty awkward, seeing as you're likely not the most experienced guy in the world, Mike, but I was pleasantly surprised." She lifted her hand and let her fingertips brush gently against my breast. "If I had known how... compatible we are, I would've made this a regular thing years ago." "Look, Leslie, I..." I began but was interrupted by her: "Faith." "Excuse me?" "I mostly go by Faith these days," she explained. "After all, if I look and sound the part, why not? If it walks like a duck and it fucks like a duck... You get the picture." "Yeah, why not indeed," I said, not necessarily getting the picture. I turned my back to her and looked around the apartment. The floor of the main living space was strewn with my clothes and hers, suggesting that she was essentially telling the truth about our encounter last night. She had probably come while I had been working; my computer had been left on, and the screen was still showing the Windows 7 desktop. I noticed all this with a sort of numb indifference until the implications hit me a few seconds later. "Wait a minute!" I said to myself and then faced her again. "This is-- this is the present day and real world, isn't this? How can you be here?" "What makes you think I couldn't be here?" she asked, still smiling. "You're not supposed to exist, Larry--I mean Leslie. Faith." "Oh really?" She let out a small laughter. "So I'm just a fantasy of yours, and you've actually been humping your mattress for hours on end? Trust me, honey, you made a lot better use of your dick last night." She stepped right next to me, and without hesitating for a second, she brought her lips to mine. What followed was definitely the most passionate kiss I had experienced. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pushed her tongue into my mouth and let it twirl there for an incredibly long time. Her taste and scent and the warmth and touch of her naked, gorgeous body made me totally unable to resist, and I reciprocated willingly. I was almost overcome by raw lust for her right there and then, and I was only moments away from pushing her against the wall and having my way with her when she finally pulled away. "How about some more action?" Leslie/Faith suggested and licked her lips. "I can see you're up to it," she added, looking at my male organ, which had predictably stirred. "As in round two?" "As in round four, if the blowjob doesn't count," she chuckled. I shook my head to clear my hormone-addled mind before saying, "Look, Faith, I don't know what to make of this. I need some answers, and I need them badly." "I need something badly too," she cooed and closed the distance again. "You game?" "Maybe... maybe not right now," I exhaled. I sensed there was a possibility that Faith could give me some information, so I had to stay focused, to suppress my urges at all costs and overcome the temptation to ravish her body and forget about everything else. "Aww, that's too bad," she said with a pout. "I'm disappointed. You owe me one." "We've only met in the imaginary past, and you shouldn't exist here at all," I went on. "I never had a classmate called Lawrence Simmons; that was my imagination. And even if I did and the Halloween party in fact happened, how come you haven't aged a single day? It was over ten years ago!" "Why, thank you!" she said and laughed again. "I'm just special like that. I stay young." "Please, if you know what this is all about, tell me," I pleaded. "What's going on?" "Lots, actually," she replied in a slightly more serious tone, "but I didn't come here to talk about metaphysics. Besides, it would take far too long to explain. All I can say is that it's way bigger than you or me and that it's time for you to help us. We need you, so if you don't feel like having fun with me one last time, we'd better get on with the business part of my visit." "Who needs me? And for what?" "You'll see." She walked past me and bent over a brown duffel bag that had been left in the apartment doorway. Her fingers found the zipper and opened it, and then she pulled a piece of clothing out of the bag. For a moment, I thought she was going to take a shower and had just retrieved her own personal towel or something like that, but as she lifted the bundled object up and let it unfurl, I suddenly recognized it as the Buffy skinsuit. I froze at the sight of the abominable costume. "I'm sorry I have to do this," Faith commented and gave me a lopsided smile. "I would've loved to fool around with you for a little while longer. Well, technically I'm in no rush so we could do Round Four, but still, it may be best to pick up where we left at some later date and get the main thing over with. After all, it's more important than anything else. When that's done, we'll see each other again. I promise." I was stunned by this turn of events, so stunned that I lost some crucial seconds. There was still a slim chance to run past her and out of the apartment. True, I had no clothes on, let alone my keys, my phone or my wallet with me, but as soon as the worst of the initial shock of seeing the dread skinsuit again had worn off, I was certainly frightened and desperate enough to try almost anything. Sadly, my feet refused to cooperate. Turning to address the suit, Faith said, as if talking to a little child, "Look who's there! It's him! Now you finally get to have him, just like you wanted. You'll be together, and nobody will come between you." I was wondering if she had gone completely insane, or even more insane than she apparently already was, when the skin suddenly moved in her hands like an inflating balloon or a sail in the wind. In abject horror, I took a quick step back to get as far as possible from the scary thing and seriously prepared to make a break for it. I had had no idea the skins could come to life like that and move of their own volition. Not wasting another moment, Faith threw the empty skin at me. It landed on my face and chest. As soon as it made contact with my own skin, I briefly felt a warm and smooth sensation, but then I realized the skin was melting. In a second, it turned from an imitation of an empty human husk into a strange sticky and viscous mass that was crawling all over me, enveloping my chest, my head, my arms and my feet. In a mad panic, I tried to tear it off me, but my fingers couldn't get a proper hold of it. The familiar numbness had already set in, and I knew all too well there was nothing I could do. "Bye then, big guy," I heard Faith say in an almost sad tone. I made one final frantic attempt to free myself from the clutches of the skinsuit and pulled at the slick surface that was about to cover my face, but it stuck to my skin like glue. Then it swept over my eyes, my legs gave way, and I saw no more. (To be continued...)