Not Very Nice People - Chapter 2/11: The Party Trick free porn video

NOT VERY NICE PEOPLE by Crazy Baron Chapter 2: The Party Trick Synopsis: On their way down south, our heroes pay a courtesy call on Kenny Taylor, their acquaintance and a former socially impaired nerd, who has made a name for himself in the software industry. Kenny, now married, lives a life that stands in contrast to the mostly prosaic existence of Mike, Jake, Scott and Charlie. But behind every picture perfect facade there may lurk hair-raising secrets; and some have the potential of ruining your vacation, perhaps even your sanity. ***** If Kenny Taylor's intent had been to find privacy, he had certainly succeeded. His house stood essentially alone in the middle of nowhere, on the side of a low wooded hill a few miles from the main road. Another smaller road passed by the house, leaving a hundred yards or so of uncultivated land in between, and a thicket of trees shielded the homestead from direct view. The nearest settlement worth mentioning was also several miles distant. Had he not given Charlie detailed instructions on how to arrive there, trying to locate the place would have been difficult even with the help of modern navigational aids. The driveway weaved gently across the terrain, rounded the hill from the south, and then the house was right in front of us. One look at it sufficed to prove that Kenny was definitely not short on money: the building had to be quite new, with white concrete walls, large windows facing in almost every direction and an array of solar panels up on top. It, along with a semi-combined garage with two doors, was built elegantly into the hillside so that the upper floor of the two-story house was near ground level at the back; a flat roof extended from the base of the second story in the front, providing both an open air balcony and a weather cover for the large terrace. The house was very spacious for a family of two, no matter how affluent, and I wondered if Kenny was planning on having children in the near future. "Would you look at that," Charlie said slowly as we took the sight in. I pulled up and parked the car near the main entrance but a little to the side, careful not to block the way, and then we all got out. Suddenly I felt uncouth and awkward, if not downright embarrassed at the thought of entering so luxurious a mansion as I was at the moment, wearing my worn out everyday clothes, with my chin unshaven and accompanied by my equally casual friends. I momentarily toyed with the thought of turning back but rejected it firmly. We had come this far, and to run away inexplicably when we had probably already been seen from inside the house would have been embarrassing in and of itself. Jake cleared his throat and observed, "The universe sometimes works in mysterious ways. Isn't it weird that out of the five of us, Kenny has been the most successful? Come to think of it, we have all underperformed and underachieved to one extent or another in life, and the terminal geek with no friends ends up owning a place like this! I'm in a boring dead-end job that pays miserably; Scott, you're not much better off; Charlie, you're divorced; and Mike, you're basically a perpetual student who was recently locked up in a funny farm. We're as good as broke and all single with little hope of so much as getting laid, unless we pay for it." "You sure have a way with words," I said to him. His remarks, however true in principle, had actually felt slightly offensive even to me. "Not to mention a positive outlook on things." "I get laid sometimes," Charlie pointed out, "and so does Scott. I'm not certain about Mike but I'd imagine he just might as well. Speak for yourself, Jake." "I said we've got little hope," Jake argued, "not that we've got no hope. There's a difference." The main door of the house opened and a man stepped out. At first, I couldn't recognize him; he was perhaps about medium height and weight and had short dark hair in a hipster-ish quiff cut, with a seemingly unkempt but in actuality carefully styled stubble of a beard covering his chin and cheeks. He was wearing glasses with small rectangular lenses, well-fitting trousers and a khaki jacket, with expensive loafers on his feet. In all, he was the very personification of the fashionable late 2010s young and urban male, nearly up to the point of being a living stereotype, a cardboard cutout. As he walked up to us with an energetic swagger, I could only stare at him in amazement. Kenneth Taylor's evolution from a socially inept nerd to a career rocket and a stylish, confident man of the world was without compare among the people I knew or had heard about--excluding, of course, a certain little episode with transforming skinsuits that had turned me and my friends into female TV characters, a mischievous thought added in the back of my mind. I hurried to suppress it as Kenny greeted us happily, "Hello, guys! How are you doing? Welcome to my humble abode!" "Hi," I replied and shook hands with him. His grip was firm and decisive, the polar opposite of everything that made up the old Kenny. "Nice to be here." "Yep," Jake added as Kenny moved on to him, with Charlie and Scott following next. "I wouldn't necessarily call this house humble, though." "Oh, it's just a little pet project of mine," the host said with unostentatiousness that was perhaps not all pretense. "A hideout for me and the wife, whenever we get fed up with the hustle and bustle of the city." His eyes moved to Dan, who was standing in a hunched posture next to the car, more or less oblivious to his surroundings. "I don't believe we've met," he said to Dan. "Oh, that's... Dan Mancini," I explained. "So, is he...?" "No, not really," I said, struggling to find suitable yet inoffensive words to express just what Dan was to us. "We met him on the way here and decided to give him a lift to Bedford." "Your friends are my friends as well," Kenny declared magnanimously and offered his hand to Dan but got no reaction whatsoever out of him. Instead, Dan was currently busy staring at the sky and ignoring everything going on around him. Our host withdrew his hand tentatively and looked at me again. "Uh, I think he's... a bit---" "Fucked in the head," Jake completed my sentence. "Right," Kenny said and grinned. "Anyway, let's go inside. I want you guys to meet Christine, and then we can get comfortable." Without further ado, Kenny led us up a series of low steps, across the terrace and through the main door. We then entered a hall with a high ceiling. One of the walls was covered by mirror panes, and a long coat rack was affixed to the wall next to the mirrors. Wooden paneled doors provided access to what were presumably a bathroom and an assortment of other rooms on the opposite side, and to the left, the hall continued into the main living room and kitchen. To our right there was a flight of wooden stairs. Although the sky outside was still mostly overcast, there was plenty of light in the house, thanks in part to the windows and in part to a cleverly arranged lighting system, with LED lights placed unobtrusively throughout the ceiling and walls. Kenny had inherited the taste of his parents when it came to internal design and decoration, I noted and thought back to my visits to his childhood home in Greensville. It was in many respects similar to this building, only more modest in scale. "Wait here for a sec," Kenny told us. "I'll go get her." Half running, he rounded the corner towards the living room and disappeared from view. We could hear him calling her from the other side of the house. "Is it my imagination," Scott mused in a subdued voice, "or has the dude dyed his hair? It never used to be that dark before." "Could be," Charlie commented. "I noticed the same thing." "How gay of him," Jake added, not as quietly as the others, and I feared that his voice would carry and Kenny would hear him. We had left our jackets and coats in the car (and Dan had left home without one), so we had no clothing to take off and in general nothing to do until the host came back. We spent the time staying put, wondering at our surroundings and trying to wrap our heads around the change that had taken place in Kenny Taylor. We soon received incontrovertible proof that Jake's assumption of Kenny's sexual orientation was mistaken. Kenny returned to the hall with a stunning young woman on his arm, a slender blond with long, straight hair, large blue eyes and a wide smile that revealed a set of absolutely flawless pearly white teeth. Her face was round and had delicate features, a small nose and lips that were plump but not overly thick. Her body, clad in casual but stylish white capri pants and a light blouse, was willowy but still sported enticing curves in just the right places, and her legs were strikingly long and thin. If she was significantly older than 25, she had to take an extremely good care of herself, Botox treatments and other such methods probably included. "This is my Christine," Kenny introduced her with an obvious air of pride. "Christine, meet the guys. That is Scott Anderson, that's Jake White, Charlie McGee and Mike Caldwell. Oh, and there's also Dan." "My pleasure," the Barbie doll intoned in a slightly nasal voice and widened her smile some more as she proceeded to shake hands with us. Her grip was soft and warm but not very firm, unlike her husband's. Dan received a short curious look from her, and she didn't offer her hand to him, but she managed to retain the beaming expression on her face. "Okay," Kenny said, "now that we're done with the formalities, what do you say we move to the living room and relax a little?" "Sounds good to me," I responded. The others nodded their agreement. In a few moments we were sitting side by side in a massive couch facing a coffee table and two armchairs right next to each other which were occupied by Kenny and his wife. The living room was much like the hall in style: the white walls contrasted with the dark redwood parquet floor and large windows, with designer furniture laid in a carefully thought out arrangement. I was surrounded by clean lines and straight angles and precision and good order. The house no doubt gave pure expression to a certain type of aesthetic vision and must have appealed to Kenny's sensibilities, but I had already come to the conclusion that I wouldn't have wanted to live in it, even if I had had the money. The unyielding contrasts of dark and light colors, the rigid geometric patterns and the overall uncanny sterility the building was imbued with felt unwelcoming. It seemed much more like a public library or an office block than someone's home. "I have to say this is one impressive house," I nevertheless commented to open the conversation, unable to come up with a better subject. "It must have cost you millions." "Yeah, well," Kenny replied modestly, "something in the low seven digits, but not really as much as you might think. The biggest problem was getting the electricity connected and the water and sewage arranged. And, of course, we had to have the driveway built too. The land property was completely undeveloped and essentially in its natural state when we bought it." "How long have you had it?" Charlie asked in his turn. "Five or six years now, but we didn't get things going until some time later. We both were too busy with our work back then and had to save some more money, so the house was only finished last year--just in time for Christmas, actually." He flashed a sweet smile at his wife, who replied in kind. They obviously had fond, romantic memories of inaugurating their nest over the holiday season. "Of course, him getting that promotion played a big part in it," Christine added. "He did get some recognition for his mad skills as soon as he came to the firm, but it took the management a while to give him a position to match." "It wasn't just up to them," Kenny pointed out. "I was happy doing the actual hands-on stuff, writing code and testing software. When you're a supervisor, you've got a lot more administrative things to do, and I find it boring for the most part. You need to complete reports and evaluations and sit at a million meetings before you can get to the fun part. Basically, you then start at near the bottom of the white collar tribe, with a lot of responsibility but not much real power yet outside of your own immediate group and the people who work directly for you. In fact, I declined the promotion two times but they kept insisting, and then I finally gave in. The pay is nice, though, so I can't complain." "I guess," Jake said. "It's not like I could afford something like this house." "Then again, you've got to realize that money can't make you happy at the end of the day. Sure, it's good to have in our kind of society, but what you need in your life is purpose and meaning, you see, an outlet for your creativity. If you don't internalize the idea that you're contributing in a positive way, making a difference, then what's the use of waking up in the morning? You get reduced to just another cog in the machine, and you can never feel fulfilled. I'm afraid of exactly that happening to me." Jake lifted his eyebrows a little at this but didn't say anything, much to my relief. "On a different topic," Scott said, "how long have you guys been together?" This again brought smiles to the faces of the happy couple. "We met at a nightclub about five years ago," Christine explained. "It was early summer, and I had just graduated college and was out partying with my friends. As I'm ordering my second daiquiri at the bar, this hunk walks up to me and tries to get a conversation going but manages to spill his rum and coke on my dress." She laughed heartily at the memory, and he chuckled a little as well. "You have to understand, Kenny was way more shy and awkward with people back then. You wouldn't believe this is the same man." "You've got that right," I commented. "He's changed incredibly over the last years." "Yes, and mainly for the better, I might add. So, anyway, we hit it off regardless and started going out, and the rest is history. We've been married for two and a half years. The ceremony was held on our third official dating anniversary." She lifted her hand to show off the wedding band on her finger. "Christine is a certified physiotherapist, by the way," Kenny added. "Not to mention part-time model. She still models on occasion." "Nah, not really," she said. "I used to do that to fund my education, but now that I've got him to support me, it's nothing but a hobby. I don't need a steady job either. I'm just the satisfied little trophy wife." "Don't say that, honey," the husband admonished her gently and took her hand in his. "You've got a bright mind and lots of drive. I'd never have married a mindless bimbo, as you well know." They looked each other in the eyes for a full five seconds and seemed poised to kiss, but then she broke the spell, got up on her feet and said, "Oh, but where are my manners! Would you guys like some coffee? You must be tired after all that driving and you haven't had anything to drink." Jake, Charlie, Scott and I looked at each other. "We wouldn't mind some coffee, to be honest," Jake answered for all of us. "We still have a couple of hundred miles to go today. Not that you have to, but---" "Alright!" Christine said briskly and marched into the kitchen. "You'll get treated to the house special." "She makes a mean vegan latte," Kenny told us with a smile. "It's by far the best I've tasted this side of the Appalachians." I glanced sideways at Jake, who failed to keep a frown off his face. The prospect of enjoying a cup of coffee had suddenly lost part of its appeal for me as well, but we had to conform to proper etiquette. After all, we were Kenny's guests in his home. "How are you guys doing these days?" Kenny asked, changing the topic. "You haven't told me much of anything about what's going on in your lives." I bit my lip. Nothing we could tell Kenny even remotely compared to his apparently near-perfect life situation--his beautiful wife, his huge house, his prodigious career or his bank account that easily allowed him to make purchases worth millions. Regardless, we had to give him something, and I took the plunge first. "It's been a little more mundane for us," I explained with a (forced) chuckle. "I'm working to get my PhD in physics at the University. The dissertation ought to be ready some time next year. It's been a little frustrating, what with the constant delays in gaining access to the properly corrected data and the need to double and triple check everything, but I think it's getting there." "Are you married, Mike?" "No. I still haven't found a woman who... And I don't think the time is right for me to start a family, anyway. I may even have to move abroad or something after I get the degree, and having a wife and a couple of kids to take care of would complicate things pretty seriously at that point. I need to wait and see how my future pans out." "Okay. Are there any more bachelors among you, by the way?" "We're all on the market at the moment," Charlie responded. "I got divorced two years back, and Scott and Jake are holding onto their single status the same as Mike is." "I was sort of wondering that if you're married, how come your wives are letting you go on a trip like this," Kenny said and let out a small laughter. "My Christine would never trust me to stay on the narrow path if I wanted to come with you." "Yes, I would!" she interjected from the kitchen. "I know you are always faithful to me, honey!" "Where was it that you were going?" Kenny asked us. "Texas?" "Yeah. My extended family owns a small ranch there, up in the Panhandle," Jake said. "Nobody has lived there year round since my grandparents moved here, but my father's relatives have kept the house as a getaway for the winter months. They agreed to let us stay there for a week or two. We jumped at the chance as we thought every one of us could use a little vacation." "Life's been pretty hectic for you, I take it." "I'm not sure if 'hectic' is quite the right word. I suppose you could say we simply wanted a break from the routine." "I know what you mean. So, anyway, what are you going to do there? Just relax and hang around, or are you planning on some specific activities?" "Nothing much, except maybe a little plinking." "Plinking?" "Yep, informal target practice; you know, shooting at old rusty barrels and buckets and things like that for fun." Kenny gave the impression of being slightly taken aback by this piece of information. "Shooting? You're saying you take an air gun and...?" "No, the guns I take burn powder when they shoot," Jake said and laughed. "Sure, air rifles can be fun when you don't want lots of noise and don't have too much space around you, but bringing one all the way across the country would be silly when there are other, more gratifying options. Besides, this is Texas we're talking about." For the first time during our visit, the man of the house was at a plain loss of words, even though he succeeded in maintaining a polite if shaky smile on his face. I sensed that firearms and their advocates didn't sit particularly well with the general world view of the Taylors who, judging by most of what we had seen and heard up to that point, likely had progressive and liberal tendencies when it came to politics. "Oh, right," Kenny uttered after collecting his thoughts for a few seconds. "A hobby of yours?" "Something like that," Jake said. In passing, I wondered what I should say for my part if Kenny were to start interviewing us about our hobbies in general. The honest answer with respect to the last four weeks and according to my confused memory--slaying vampires and and spending time in and out of mental hospitals--was probably best kept under wraps. "Um, Mike," Kenny continued, deftly changing the subject, "how is your sister doing? I heard she was going through a rough patch some time ago, I think, but I never learned any specifics. I trust she's okay?" "She's more or less okay now," I said. "If you're not comfortable talking---" "No, it's fine." I sat up, took a slow breath to compose my thoughts and went on, "It's no secret, after all. She got married last summer to a certain fellow who wasn't... how should I put this--ideal boyfriend material. They only lasted for a couple of months, and that was it." "Jeez," Kenny said sympathetically. "It must have been dreadful. I'm sorry." "Well, in my honest opinion it was for the best that the relationship came to a quick end. If two people are just not right for each other, trying to stay together no matter what can only lead to trouble." "I guess you're right." I was mildly tempted to explain the whole sorry saga to him, how Shitbag had used her, manipulated her and attempted to control her completely and how she had eventually broken free at the cost of considerable emotional distress and trauma. The only upside in the whole debacle was the fact that the asshole had not been quite smart enough to pull his scheme off properly. It had been close, though, much too close for comfort. As a result, I nursed an unrelenting hatred towards Shitbag and would even then have gladly taken any opportunity to look at him through the sights of Jake's AR-15. However, it was not appropriate for me to go around spreading the unpleasant story with all of its details, and so I made up my mind not to divulge any more to Kenny and Christine. Scott already knew almost everything and Jake and Charlie knew enough to understand why I loathed Kate's ex-husband with a passion. Christine brought us the coffee. She had a tray with a large mug for each of us, and these she set carefully on the table, with a paper napkin next to every cup. "There you go, gents!" she said with another brilliant smile. "No farm animal had to suffer for this treat." "Oh, that's... nice," Scott commented but didn't manage to sound as convincing as he probably would have liked. "Are any of you guys vegans or vegetarians?" Christine asked, picking up her mug. "No, not really," Charlie said. "We eat pretty much what we can afford to buy." "You really should try it," the hostess suggested. "You can have a perfectly balanced diet and get all the essentials you need while keeping your conscience clean, knowing you're doing your part to keep the planet alive." Following the Taylors' lead, we also took our mugs one by one and sampled the drink, Jake somewhat more reluctantly than the others. It was hot and strong, and the milk substitute, whatever it actually was, did its job at least moderately well. One could almost imagine it was the real thing, aside from an unusual treacly aftertaste that I did not find particularly appealing. Dan, to our amazement, grabbed his coffee and downed it all in two big gulps. He went on to wipe the foam left on his lips with his sleeve and said to the couple, "Thank you." "I guess you were a little thirsty there, friend," Kenny said and flashed another uncertain smile. He clearly didn't know what to make of Dan, and I felt a twinge of embarrassment for our accidental traveling companion. "Would you like another?" "Not right now. Thank you. It was good." "Do you still have a long drive ahead of you tonight?" Christine inquired. "About 200 miles, if I recall correctly," I said in a deliberately dismissive tone. "Of course, we need to deviate a little from our planned route and drop Dan off in Bedford, but that shouldn't take too long. We're staying at a motel tonight." "And then? What about tomorrow?" "Basically more of the same. We're hoping to make better time then and leave the winter behind." "It's not my place to criticize your carefully thought out itinerary," Kenny cut in, "but don't you think 200 miles is a bit ambitious for what's left of today? I mean, it's already getting dark out there and the roads could be icy." "You've got an excellent point there, honey," Christine accompanied her husband and then addressed us again, "Really, you guys should spend the night here! We've got enough room for everyone, and it makes no sense to leave and go driving like crazy into the night. The weather forecast said we could get freezing temperatures and maybe even snow before tomorrow morning." "Thanks for your generous offer," I said, "but I think we have to get going. Dan's cousin, I believe, is waiting for him in Bedford and we'd have to cancel..." "I'm sure he can call his relative and tell him to be there to meet him tomorrow instead of today," Kenny said. "Right, Dan?" "Okay," Dan mumbled. "I can do that." "Still, it's an awful lot of trouble for you," I insisted and nodded towards Dan to send a silent message to the Taylors. I wanted them to realize that we needed to get rid of him post haste and Kenny and Christine, despite their commendable motives, were not helping by promising to give him and the rest of us a bed for the night. "You see..." "No trouble at all!" Christine countered. "We get visitors so seldom it's our pleasure. Trust us." "Come to think of it," Charlie injected, "it would be a pretty tiring task for you to get us to our destination, Mike, especially if there's snow and ice." "Nonsense," I laughed. "I'm not tired in the slightest. It's not like I didn't get a good night's sleep yesterday, and we've only been on the road for a couple of hours." This was perhaps not entirely true; nonetheless, I was hoping to avoid any unnecessary delay and was full- heartedly against one that meant we might be stuck with Dan for another day. "I'll make us dinner," Christine promised. "Even if I say so myself, my cooking beats hands down anything you can get at your typical wayside diner." "And I can guarantee that's an understatement," Kenny added. We went through another round of essentially the same courteous arguments and counter-arguments for continuing our journey immediately, and then a third, until I remained the only one wanting to get back on the road that night. Even Jake was wavering, and Scott and Charlie now wanted to stop for the night, primarily to let me get enough rest. Dan had made no comment and would probably have been equally happy, or equally unhappy, either way. "Okay, you win," I conceded with a small laugh intended to conceal my disappointment. "If everybody else says so, we're staying." "That's fantastic, guys!" Kenny exclaimed happily. "Now we've got time to catch up properly!" "I need to cancel our motel room reservation," I pointed out, mainly to myself--and then the whole thing immediately slipped out of my mind. Considering how the evening turned out, this was more than fortunate. "Honey," a smiling Christine suggested, "why don't you show your friends around a bit. I'll start fixing us something to eat meanwhile." "Okay. Follow me then, folks." Kenny treated us to a tour of his house. We started from the living room and its entertainment center, moved on to his study, snuck a peak at the bedroom and guest rooms (one of which was slated for a conversion to nursery when the time came), visited the upstairs terrace briefly to have a look at the solar panels and were given an introduction to the environmentally friendly heating system and its benefits. Following this, we went outside for a short while to see what Kenny and Christine had done with the surroundings and what their plans were for the future, and finally we ended up in the garage. It was enormous, almost voluminous enough to accommodate half of Greensville Fire Department. The facility seemed even larger since it contained exactly two motor vehicles of any description: the couple's modest Toyota hybrid and Kenny's lawnmower. These two looked lonely and nearly comical sitting next to one another in the otherwise empty, hugely oversized space. "Everybody at the office drives or at least wants a Tesla," Kenny said, pointing at the car, "and I've also been thinking of buying one, but it's perhaps not your ideal means of transportation if you want to live in this neck of the woods. Besides, Christine thinks we don't need another car anyway." "You've still got a bit of room left to expand the fleet," Scott commented, "if she ever changes her mind." "Yeah," Kenny replied, apparently oblivious to the little double barb my cousin had served him. "You've got to plan ahead. That's one of my mottos." There was little else to see within an easy walking distance, so we promptly returned indoors. Christine was waiting for us in the hall, and Dan--who had been all but forgotten about by everyone--was quietly sitting exactly where we had left him, in the living room couch, and again busily playing on his cell phone. "The food should be ready in an hour," Mrs. Taylor told us. "By the way, Kenny, I just had an idea. Maybe your friends would like to see our special party trick?" "Oh, right!" Kenny said, with his face brightening up. "I'm sure they would! Let's do it!" "Okay," Christine explained to us with bubbly excitement, "we two go to the bedroom---" "And no, this is not what you think!" Kenny interrupted her with a laugh. "It's nice and totally clean adult fun, I promise." "Yeah, so, we go to the bedroom, and you come up and join us when we call you," Christine went on. "That's because we need a little time to prepare for the trick. There will be a big surprise for you. What do you say?" That was when our troubles on the trip started for real. "I guess we're game," Charlie replied for all of us, not without significant hesitation. Somehow all of us sensed that we should have given a polite pass to Christine's suggestion, but it was already too late. "As long as it's all in clean fun, like you said," Jake added. "Yeah!" Christine shrieked almost like a teen girl and clapped her hands together. "This is going to be so cool! Wait for us here!" With that, she and Kenny scooted away together and almost ran up the stairs. "I'll go get some clothes and the personal hygiene stuff from the car for us," Charlie said, "if we're staying overnight here. Might as well use the time productively." "I'll give you a hand," Jake said. "Mike, do you have the keys?" "The car doors shouldn't be locked." "Okay. We'll be right back." Scott and I remained in the hall, waiting for whatever was to come. After a short silence, he looked at me and asked in a low voice, "What do you think they're up to?" "I haven't got a clue," I confessed. "Probably some unfunny practical joke, I'd presume." "Kenny never was much of a joker, practical or otherwise," he commented. "He never was much of a vegan or an environmentalist either, let alone a family man. I bet it's the wife; she has been molding him into whatever he is today." "I can see why that would work," Scott said. "Honestly, the chick is unbelievably hot. No doubt she can wrap pretty much any man around her little finger. The only thing I don't get is why she would go for someone like Kenny--or Kenny as he used to be before he changed into that pretentious douche." "If you ever figure that that out, promise you'll---" "Guys!" Christine announced in a sing-song voice from upstairs. "We're ready!" "Okay, here goes," Scott said and took off towards the staircase. "Let's get this over with." "Wait a second," I told him. My cell phone had sounded the signal that it had just received a new text message, and I wanted to read it first, in case it was from my parents or Kate. "Come up when you're done," he said and started to climb the stairs. The text message turned out to be a false alarm, simply an advertisement from my operator. I skimmed the text over quickly, to be certain that it didn't require any action from me, locked the phone's keys again and shoved the device back into my trouser pocket. Just then Scott called, "Mike? I think you'd better come and take a look at this..." I immediately picked up on the tone of genuine apprehension and alarm in his voice, so I half ran, half walked to the staircase and then went up the stairs two steps at a time. Something out of the ordinary had to be happening; Scott was hardly a man who got scared easily. An unpleasant tingling was spreading in the back of my neck as I reached the wide open bedroom door and looked inside. My first reaction was that the couple was going to draw us into some weird sex games after all. Kenny had shed his clothes, which were now scattered across the bed and the floor, and Christine was helping him into some kind of a suit that covered him up to his neck. She was blocking my view momentarily, but as she moved to the side, I had to gasp for breath. What Kenny was wearing was a skinsuit--exactly like the one Kate had made me get into for the imaginary Halloween party years ago. He was encased in a costume that bore the perfect likeness of a young woman, with still flat but sizable breasts, curvy hips and a feminine cleft in the shaven crotch. Only the headpiece remained to be donned. It hung on his chest with its mass of long blond hair flowing down. I shivered all over at the terror-inspiring scene, and Scott seemed to be frozen in place, desperately trying to comprehend what we were seeing. "Hey," Christine said to Scott and me, "isn't this fantastic? You'll soon get to see what it does!" "You'll be absolutely psyched!" Kenny accompanied her, with his lips curving into a wide, downright lecherous smile. Never before had I seen an expression even remotely like that on his homely face. "Hurry up, will you, dear?" Only too glad to comply, Christine grabbed the edge of the headpiece and pulled it over Kenny's head. She ran her hands across his neck to close the opening carefully, adjusted the fit on his cheeks and chin a little and then stepped back. I wanted to tear my eyes off the spectacle unfolding right in front of me, but it felt physically impossible to look away. For the first time, I got to witness a skinsuit transformation as an outside observer. Kenny stood still, with the skin on, for a few seconds before anything seemed to happen. His bulk stretched the suit's features--the nose, the eyes, the chest, the shoulders and the legs-- out of proportion, as was to be expected. Then, almost imperceptibly slowly, his extremities began to slim down. The toes and feet became gradually smaller, and after them the fingers and the hands. All of a sudden the changes sped up tremendously: his whole body seemed to distort and morph smoothly all at once, as if a wave were passing through a viscous liquid, and then settle into its new form. There was no sound, except maybe a very quiet swish that was all but drowned out by my own racing heartbeat echoing in my ears. The whole process would not have looked out of ordinary on a movie screen, in company of other similar special effects that had become stock-in-trade of modern filmmakers with the availability of powerful computers, and it was over in a matter of seconds. The transformed Kenny turned to face us. He had apparently become a perfect duplicate of Christine, down to her smile, her eyes, dimples, haircut, arms, legs, even her teeth. He had lost a few inches of height and at least some 40 pounds of weight. Clearing his throat gently, he said, "Hello. I'm Christine Taylor, but you can call me Chrissie. My friends do." The voice was an exact copy of hers as well, including the fine details of intonation. "Wow! You look so delectable, Chrissie!" the original Christine gushed and pulled her newly-minted identical twin into a hug. It was followed by a passionate kiss, both lesbian and incestuous if taken at face value. The two Christines let their tongues twirl in each other's mouth for nearly a minute, lost in their intimate moment and oblivious to their audience. "I was thinking," the new Christine said after they had eventually ended their kiss and embrace. "We should give some suits to the guests too. The more the merrier, as they say!" "That's a great idea!" the original Christine complimented her. "Luckily we've got plenty of suits to go around. Who do you think the guys should be turned into?" "Hmm. Scott there," the former Kenny began and pointed her finger at my cousin, "could be... another me!" The other Christine was overjoyed at this. "I like the way your mind works!" "Is it any wonder? After all, I am you!" "Yes, you are, Chrissie! But we still haven't decided who the others will be. As for Mike..." She aimed an examining look at me and tapped at her chin with her index finger. "Who should he become? Right, that's it! I've got it! He's going to be Mali!" "Oh yeah, that's definitely the best persona for him! He's going to make such a beautiful Thai girl of sixteen! Maybe she'll even let both of us eat her out after she's done transforming!" "We have to be sure to ask her nicely!" the original Christine added with sparkling laughter. It was then that I finally bolted. My movement also broke the spell Scott had been under, and together we dashed to the staircase. I ran down the stairs as fast as I could, and my cousin followed right behind me in what was close to an uncontrolled fall. "Jake! Charlie!" I yelled. "Put it back! Put it all back! We're leaving now!" Both men reentered the house just as we reached the downstairs floor. Each of them had brought a duffel bag from the car, and Charlie also had his winter jacket draped over his arm. They naturally had no idea what had transpired and were staring at Scott and me with dumbfounded looks on their faces. "What?" Jake asked, dropping his bag on the floor. "What's going on here? Calm down, guys!" "We're leaving!" I repeated forcefully. "Pick that up! Take all the stuff back into the car and let's go!" "Why?" he demanded. "What is it?" I heard soft footsteps from above, and as I turned to look, I saw both Christines descending the stairs, the clothed one leading the naked one. They walked with the same graceful motions, their hips swaying in the same rhythm. Neither of them seemed to be in any hurry, as though they knew we could not or would not escape. "Don't leave so soon, guys," the naked one cooed seductively. "You haven't even tried your suits on yet!" "Listen to her," the other Christine echoed her clone's sentiment. "We can have so much fun together! I promise to be gentle to you, Mali. You're my dear little flower." "And mine," the other added. "This house will be full of lovely girls!" "Holy shit, what the hell is this?" Charlie blurted out as his eyes grew wide at the otherworldly sight. "What---?" "Fucking move it now!" I yelled at both him and Jake at the top of my lungs. "Go go go!" At long last, my words had the desired effect. With me almost pushing the others out of the door, all four of us made a hasty exit from the house. The general commotion had even managed to rouse Dan, who jogged slowly out of the house on his own accord and made a beeline across the front yard for my car while we were already shoving the bags back into the trunk as best we could. His entire existence had dropped out of our minds in the midst of the sudden excitement and terror, and were it not for his own initiative, we probably would have left him behind to face an unknowable fate. The others continued to fuss with the luggage while I hurriedly occupied the driver's seat. "Faster!" I commanded them. "What the fuck is taking you people so long?" "This bag won't fit!" Jake shouted back. "It was fine when we left Charlie's apartment, but---" "Throw it away if you have to, but we're not staying here!" The trunk lid slammed shut five seconds later, and then my friends took their seats. There was some minor scuffling and swearing as Scott and Charlie had to maneuver Dan to his place in the middle of the back seat, but at long last all the car doors were closed. Without waiting for the others to buckle up properly, I started the engine, put the car in gear and stepped on the gas. I thought I saw the front door of the house open as I was turning the vehicle around, but no one seemed to come out. When the coast was clear, I rushed down Kenny's driveway at a dangerous speed. My every instinct was ordering me to get as far away from that location as possible, as quickly as possible. I was supposed to turn left at the junction where the driveway met the local road, that is, back in the direction we had come from, but in my excitement I turned right instead. I cursed under my breath as soon as I realized my mistake but took no action to correct it. Turning around would have cost us precious time--and maybe our identities as well, if the insane skinsuit couple was following us. The inhospitable landscape was dark and the small road unfamiliar to me. Nevertheless, I kept going forward and maintained a speed that was only barely safe, scanning the view intently through the windshield to spot any signs of potential danger in good time. All my attention was concentrated on operating the car; I was almost like a robot programmed to reach its destination with the minimum feasible delay. One part of my mind fully expected to see lights in the rear view mirror and another car closing in on us from behind at any second, and I was automatically making rough estimates and plans as to how much faster I could reasonably go in the current conditions. As a result, I was all but unaware of the heavy, uneasy silence in the passenger compartment until some time had passed without incident and I found myself again relaxing, even if only very slightly. Eventually, Jake took it upon himself to start a new conversation. He asked emphatically, directing his words at no one in particular, "Anybody mind telling me just what the fuck happened back there?" "Who was the other woman?" Charlie wondered. "Does Christine have a twin?" "That was Kenny Taylor," I said. "What!?" Charlie exclaimed. His incredulity was palpable, as was Jake's. "Kenny?" "Yeah." "I don't get it," Jake said. "What the hell do you mean, Mike?" "It really was Kenny," Scott confirmed, coming to my support. "When you two were outside, Christine called from the bedroom and told me and Mike to come and take a look. I went first and Mike came up a little bit later. When I got there, Kenny had taken all of his clothes off and was putting on some sort of a strange suit. I don't know what it is. It looked like a... Well, if you take an inflatable sex doll and cut it open so you can actually step inside it and wear it like a costume, then that would be pretty close." "What kind of a sick pervert would want to do that?" Jake spat out in disgust. "That's not the point," Scott argued. "I'm only saying the suit looked like one; I have no clue as to what it actually was. Anyway, Kenny donned it with Christine's help, head to toe, and she closed it up for him. After that--again, I don't know what really happened or how it came about, but the suit did something to Kenny. He got smaller and the suit disappeared, or seemed to disappear. When it was all done, he looked, sounded and acted precisely like Christine." "Mike?" Charlie asked. "Is that what you saw?" "Yes. I witnessed the same thing, and it was like Scott described." "Guys," Jake weighed in, "are you certain you weren't... mistaken somehow? What you told us is not possible." "But we saw two Christines as well," Charlie pointed out, "and one of them had no clothes on. They were coming down the stairs. Remember?" "True, but let's be logical here for a moment," Jake pleaded. "People don't transform into other people. That's contrary to just about every single law of nature there is. Therefore, we need to find another explanation. Could it have been special effects makeup, or something in that vein? Maybe they have a professional artist as a friend, and that person has made them a mask of Christine so they can play pranks at their visitors?" "No, that doesn't come close to explaining it," Scott rejected the hypothesis. "How could a rubber mask, no matter how realistic, change Kenny's height and voice? Besides, he had Christine's whole body, with boobs and pussy and everything." "Okay, so the makeup artist made Kenny an entire Christine suit out of rubber or silicone. That's pretty seriously fucked up, to be sure, but hey--who am I to judge?" "Still doesn't explain his height and voice, not to mention his weight. Christine is pretty tall but she's also thin. Kenny would never fit inside of her." "Are we absolutely sure Kenny's height changed for real? Maybe we were so surprised and worked up that we only thought he was the same size as Christine when he had the suit on." "His height changed," Scott said with a tone of finality. "And his voice changed." "Charlie," Jake said and turned to his friend for help. "A little assistance, if you will." "Sorry, man, but I've got to side with Scott here. The women were totally identical." "I give you they looked that way, but perhaps that's not what they really were. Mike, do you have any ideas?" I had spent the last minutes lost in thought and had not paid close attention to the ongoing conversation and theorizing. This was not the first time I had seen the skinsuits in action. In fact, I had worn one, not once but twice, if my experiences were real and recollections thereof accurate. I had become Buffy the Vampire Slayer, first when my sister Kate had talked me into trying on a suit for a Halloween party, and then for a second time when I had been visited by the person who had been born as Larry Simmons but who had turned himself into Faith, another character from the Buffy show. A skinsuit had transformed Jake into Willow Rosenberg, and two other suits had made Scott and Charlie into Dawn Summers and Cordelia Chase, respectively, even though they obviously had no memory of any of this. I knew the transformation was actual, down to the molecules of the suit wearer's body; and I knew that the suit could be taken off, provided that it was not worn for too long, by locating a round black spot on its back and pressing that with the wearer's fingers. Lastly, I knew the suits were not simple inanimate objects but instead complex organic constructs, possibly living beings in their own right, with a limited awareness of the outside world and even the ability to move short distances in an emergency. But I realized I could share none of this--at least not yet. I had done my best to rationalize the memories as hallucinations and attribute them to a psychotic breakdown, and if not for the cursed receipt in my pocket and the incident in Kenny's house, that reasoning would have worked neatly. Now, however, I had to reckon with them all over again. I needed more time to think and more information to work with, so it was much too early to let my friends in on my own theories and secrets. "No," I said slowly. "Not really. I'm at a loss." That much was true; I honestly didn't know what was going on. "At least we can't complain that this vacation is boring," Scott quipped. "Who knows, maybe the motel is owned by Norman Bates and there's still more fun to come." "One deranged crossdresser is plenty enough for me," Charlie said. By that time, I had only a very sketchy idea of our whereabouts and the lay of the land. As far as I could tell, we were headed in a generally southern direction. To get to Bedford and then to the town where the motel was located, we would have had to turn west, and I kept looking for any crossroads that might offer us a shortcut back to the main road which we had left when we had taken the turn onto this road and which had to be at least 40 miles behind us by now. Instead, only small driveways and agricultural paths diverged from the road to the right. We soon passed through a sleepy little town and then found ourselves on another deserted stretch surrounded by fields and woods. "Jake," I told my co-pilot, "turn on your cell's navigator software and find us an alternate route to the motel. I'm no longer sure where we are." "Just a sec," he replied. "One thing is certain," Charlie commented. "Bedford's off the table now." "It's been off the table ever since we stayed at Kenny's mansion after finishing our coffee," I said. "There is no way to get there and then reach the motel if we want to go to sleep before something like five in the morning. We have to take Dan to Bedford tomorrow." "And that basically means we fall at least half a day behind schedule," Jake grumbled. "We can probably make good most of that loss," I said, "if there are no major hiccups tomorrow and the day after that." "Yes. If." "Dan," Scott addressed the newest addition to our gang, "did you call your cousin and that friend of yours---" "Kent Noggin," Dan supplied. "Kent Noggin. Did you call them to tell you won't make it today?" "No," he said in his typical disinterested and mentally absent manner. "Wait, what? You didn't?" "I texted them." "Did you, for sure?" Jake asked in turn. "Yeah." "So they know you can't come to Bedford until tomorrow?" "Yeah." "And you're not just saying that so we won't be mad at you?" Scott interrogated him "No. I texted them. Honest." "Alright then," Jake said, but his face betrayed a certain amount of distrust in Dan's words. As the clock crept towards midnight, I began to feel drowsier with each passing mile. The shock and horror of the metamorphosis we had witnessed at Kenny's had made our adrenaline flow, suppressing any need I might have had for sleep, but now the effect was rapidly wearing off and turning into its opposite, which naturally added to my existing fatigue. Jake continued to act as our navigator and I kept driving on in the darkness, doing my best to stay on the road, avoid colliding with anything and turn when he told me I should turn. It seemed we would never get there. Whenever I asked him how far we still had to go, the answer was always more than I thought was plausible. The distance simply didn't seem to decrease according to the customary laws of physics and mathematics. When we finally pulled up in the motel parking lot and got out of the car, I felt like I was walking in a fog. While Jake had called the establishment two hours earlier to notify them that we would arrive after the nominal check-in hours, I was anxious to make sure we would indeed get the two rooms we had paid for; and then there was the matter of arranging a bed for Dan. Sure enough, the middle-aged man behind the reception desk gave the impression that someone with the tact and patience of a Marine Corps drill instructor had woken him up in the middle of the sweetest slumber and dragged him out of bed just to serve the five of us, and his joyless, semi-professional smile was so clearly counterfeit that it hardly escaped even Dan's notice. A short haggle with respect to Dan's accommodation ensued. The manager had no objections to an additional guest per se, after we shelled out the bills to cover for one more person's breakfast, but he made it plain right away that a proper additional bed in one of our rooms would also cost us extra and that setting one up at this hour was not something he would gladly do, notwithstanding the advertising poster on the wall that said, "The customer is always right with us!" In the end, we agreed to settle for a mattress and the bedding that went with it. Dan would have to sleep on the floor but it was the least of our worries at that point. None of us was willing to keep arguing with the manager or to pay considerably more for the night for his sake. "There are your keys, gentlemen," the manager finally said and covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned. "The breakfast is at seven thirty until nine thirty, down that hall. Ask the chambermaid for the mattress, she'll bring it for you. Good night." "Good night," Scott said for all of us. "Alright," Jake declared after the man had left us alone in the hall, "who gets to bunk where?" "I honestly don't care," I said and blinked several times, trying desperately to stay awake for a few more minutes. "Let's just all go to sleep." "Why don't you and Scott share a room," Charlie suggested to me. "Jake and I can take the other one. We actually agreed on something along those lines way back when, if I recall." "Yeah, but what about Dan?" Jake piped up. "Where is he going to stay?" "We'll watch over him," Charlie volunteered. "He's a docile enough fellow, from what we've seen so far, and even if he starts yelling and singing at night, it's better for everyone if that happens in our room and not yours." "How so?" Jake inquired sharply. He was definitely not keen on the idea of having to share a room with Dan. "Mike's driving," Charlie pointed out. "If any of us needs a good sleep, it's him." "We all need a good sleep after today." "Yeah, sure, but some still need it more than others. If you're volunteering to drive, then that's different, of course." "Alright, fine," Jake yielded. Even though he had a driver's license, as did Scott and Charlie, he was usually not very eager to drive long distances, much less in someone else's car, unless he had to. This was one of the reasons why we had concluded that my main contribution to our trip would be to provide the vehicle and then to sit behind the wheel. "But just this once. We're cutting Dan loose tomorrow, and that's final." "Sure thing, Jake. It's not like he's going to Texas or anything with us." "He'd better not. The way I see it, this little jaunt is already on the skids." This conversation took place right under Dan's nose, but he retained his indifferent attitude and eyed the walls and the furniture of the motel reception room instead of paying any real attention to what we were saying. Perhaps, I thought, it was either because he didn't know how to express indignation in a socially acceptable manner and so pretended not to hear us at all or because he simply couldn't focus on other people unless he was directly engaged by them. An autistic disorder of some sort was likely among his issues. We had to retrieve some of our personal belongings from the car, including toiletries and fresh underwear. In addition, Jake flat out refused to keep his firearms in the trunk overnight, fearing they might be stolen (he made a point to say, however, that he had no special lack of confidence in the lock system of my car), so he brought all the gun cases to his and Charlie's room. The chambermaid--a plump, friendly woman of about fifty in a dirty work uniform--brought Dan his mattress, and then we were finally ready to go through our bedtime routines and hit the sack. Once in my room, I kicked my shoes off, stripped off my clothes except the boxers and trudged to the bathroom. I splashed some water on my face, washed my armpits and brushed my teeth. I barely had the strength left to go back to the room and collapse on the left-hand side bed. Scott, meanwhile, had been sitting on the other bed, checking his e- mail and text messages on his phone. He got up and announced, "Me and the guys thought we'd get a little something to eat before we go to sleep. There's an all-hours diner right across the street from here, and it doesn't look too seedy. Would you like to join us?" "Thanks, but I'll pass," I muttered against my pillow, too tired to turn my head. I had not even noticed there was a diner in the neighborhood. "I'm not that hungry. I'll see you at breakfast." "Okay. I'll take the key and let myself in quietly. Good night, Mike." "Good night. Tell the guys I'm sorry I can't come." "It's no big deal. We understand." "Tell them anyway." "Fine, I'll do that if you want. See you in a bit." "See you." Scott closed the door behind him and left me alone in the motel room. Although I fully expected to fall asleep at once, the images of the inexplicable occurrence at Kenny Taylor's house continued to play out and repeat in my head. Some alertness still remained, keeping me aware of my surroundings in case I had to flee from a threat again. Had it actually happened? Had I seen Kenny transform himself into a copy of his wife, or was that a hallucination? It felt unreal and my mind was telling me that it was impossible, yet the memory of him morphing right before my eyes and then talking to me and Scott as Christine was extremely vivid. No matter how much I wanted to, I could not simply ignore it. Scott could corroborate my story, and Jake and Charlie had seen the two Christines as well, as they themselves had confirmed. Unless the entire trip and everything that had happened since the morning were mere products of my imagination, something extraordinary was going on. On the other hand, maybe it was indeed my imagination and I was losing it again. I could be going through the prelude to another psychotic episode, another visit to Looneyland. I would need to contact the hospital and the senior ward doctor first thing the next morning. This was just my luck. The Texas trip and the sorely needed vacation would be completely ruined. Then, all of a sudden I felt determined not to allow that to happen. I had plenty of time to stay in a psych ward after we returned from our journey. To hell with these stupid disturbances; I'd just grin and bear it, as long as nothing worse than Kenny Taylor turning into a woman took place. My friends depended on me, and I would not let them down. These thoughts checked the scary fresh memories and troublesome prospects of the future and put them under control. When Scott returned to the room later at night, I was fast asleep. (To be continued...)