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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Mom's the Word"  You're reluctant to tell Blackwell what you're up to—you're afraid he might think it rather weird. So you just tell him that you screwed up on the mask you were making and need to prep another one. You also tell him that you'd like to spend the weekend playing Yumi; to your surprise, he encourages you to do just that, explaining that he will be out of town over the weekend and that you might as well use his absence as a holiday. * * * * * "Oh for Pete's sake, don't just stand there blushing on the front step, come on in!" Mrs. Cooper gestures you and Will into the house. "I declare, you just look prettier every day, Yumi. And who's the handsome boy in your company here?" "This is Will Prescott. He's just a friend," you hurriedly add. It's Friday afternoon. Blackwell has left town on his mysterious errand—he's told you it's a book-buying expedition, but you don't believe that—and you're putting your plan into effect. The first step was calling Chelsea, to confirm that she'd be out of the house getting ready for a party that Maggie Crenshaw is throwing tonight. The second step was getting your ass over to the Coopers' house before Chelsea could get back to interfere. "Oh, you don't have to tell me who is and who isn't a friend of yours," Mrs. Cooper says as she leads you and Will back into a dining nook just off the living room. "Though you certainly could do worse. Couldn't she, Will?" She winks at Will, who true to character blushes. "So, Chelsea's out running around with her father's credit card," Mrs. Cooper continues after sitting down with a sigh at the table with you, "and I'm surprised you're not with her. Would you like some coffee?" "No thanks. And I wasn't looking for Chelsea," you tell her. "I just wanted to stop by and see how you were feeling after the other day, up at the school." "Well, aren't you just the most thoughtful little darling," Mrs. Cooper dimples at you. "I tell you, I just don't know what came over me in there!" "Excuse me, may I use your restroom?" Will interrupts. Your hostess gives him directions and he disappears. "Did you have any more fainting spells?" you ask Mrs. Cooper. She throws up her hands. "Not a one. I'm pretty certain it must have been the unhealthy air in there. Are you girls sure you're getting enough ventilation?" "We've never had a problem like that before," you say, truthfully. "I hope it isn't something like that, but I'm glad you haven't had any more attacks." She smiles. "Are you sure I can't get you a fruit juice or something? I was just about to pour myself a cup of something strong. Speaking of which." She beams at Will as he rejoins you. "All taken care of?" you ask him. "I couldn't find it." That's the prearranged signal, meaning that you have the house to yourself. "You are so hopeless, Will," you tell him before Mrs. Cooper can say anything. "Here, take this." You loft your kit to the table and pull out that mask you accidentally made of Mrs. Cooper. She only looks on in puzzlement and has no time to react before you smash it against her face. It vanishes, and she falls back in her chair with staring eyes. You and Will drag her into a downstairs bathroom—and she's a hell of a lot heavier than you were counting on her being—where you and he both strip. He slips on the over-large, floppy clothes you'd donned for just this switch, and then the two of you rapidly divest Mrs. Cooper of her clothes. Will lays down on the floor, squeezing up between Mrs. Cooper and the door, as you gather up all the loose clothes. When the mask reappears on Mrs. Cooper's face, you twitch away the golem's face, revealing the unconscious Yumi Saito. You then drop your mask onto Mrs. Cooper, and your double, having moved over by about ten inches, scrambles carefully up so as not to wake the still-slumbering Yumi. You both sneak out of the bathroom and close the door behind you. "You know," your double asks as he starts to pull on the pants and shirt you pulled off his earlier incarnation, "Yumi's not going to have any idea how she got here. Or why she took off all her clothes inside a bathroom at Chelsea's house." "It doesn't matter," you retort as you dig through your pack to pull out the sealant. "She thinks you're weird and creepy anyway, so she'll just chalk it up to more of your weirdness and creepiness." "Gee, thanks." "I'm just saying you got nothing to worry about. Me, on the other hand." You glance down at your nakedness. "I gotta finish getting changed before someone does show up." "Wait for you in the dining room?" Will asks as you run to the foot of the stairs. You yell back an affirmative as you take the stairs two at a time to the top floor. There's five doors upstairs, but you've no problem picking out which is the master bedroom: it's the one with the forest-green wallpaper and the three dressers and the two vanity tables. The master bedroom has a toilet and a bidet (the latter you recognize only because you still carry the echoes of Yumi's memories in your head), plus a walk-in closet, a shower, and a long, deep bathtub with water jets (it looks like) in it. This is gonna be nice, you tell yourself. After closing and locking the door, you set Mrs. Cooper's clothes on the floor and clamber into the tub with the mask and sealant. You are shivering hard—the tub is chilly—by the time you finish applying a layer of sealant, and after wedging yourself down inside the tub you waste no time in pressing the mask to your face. But still the cold seems to penetrate your bones, even as a lovely feeling, as of being enveloped by a wave of warm, thick syrup, flows over and into you ... * * * * * You're chilled the bone when you wake, and your temples throb with what feels like an ice-cream headache when you pry your eyes open. You throw away a few seconds blinking and frowning at the white ceiling, trying to place yourself, then grab the edge of the tub and sit up. You groan and gasp: It's like being hit in the side of the head with a hammer. Almost as instantly the pain vanishes, but you're still shaky as you clamber out of the tub and onto your new feet. Your boobs wobble and hang, and your hair tumbles about your shoulders. Instinctively, you grab a fistful of it and pull it back behind your neck. You would like nothing more than to curl up on the floor in a fetal position and go to sleep, but the cold won't let you. Besides, you've got to get downstairs. Yumi will be awake and confused and probably barking at your doppelganger. At the very least you should make an appearance to let your replacement know it's okay for him and Yumi to leave. It was nice of Yumi to stop by and check on you, you find yourself thinking in a vague way as you pull on panties and wrap a bra around your bust. I should get more involved with the squad, like I was last year. Oh, but last year Chelsea wasn't the squad captain, and couldn't tell her mother to step off. This year, she did. Your throat closes up briefly as you remember the bitter disappointment that Kelly Margaret Cooper felt at that. My little girl gets to be captain of her high school cheerleading squad—an honor that eluded Kelly Cooper in her youth—and all I can do is sit in the stands and cheer along! For you've got Mrs. Cooper's memories, too. They were just laying there, waiting for you to pick them and throw them on, like a shawl and hood, to go with your physical ensemble. Speaking of which ... You can see where Chelsea gets her basic body. Her mother (herself a former high school cheerleader) is built along the same lines. Strong, shapely thighs and calves; wide hips; prodigious breasts (which, admittedly, have had a little work done on them); a wide, white, bright smile; and large, wide-set eyes. Blonde hair, too—which you paw into some kind of shape before putting it up in a sloppy bun—though Kelly's gets hers lightened at the salon. But you only give yourself a moment to study yourself in the full-length mirror that hangs on the inner side of the closet door. White shorts and a zebra-striped top were the only things to pull on over the underthings, so you give yourself a few seconds to appreciate the finished look. Still not too bad, you think, though the pounds are starting to creep on even as you work harder at the aerobics, the spinning, and the weights. It's muscle, you tell yourself, for the clothes still fit; but there's doubt and fear behind the self-reassurance. Downstairs you find a disheveled and confused-looking Yumi standing in the hall and talking in a low voice with Will while regarding him with an all too apparent loathing. "Well, that's much better," you exclaim. "A little freshness can just do wonders for a gal." Yumi returns you a blank look. "Are you sure you kids can't stay for lunch? I was just going to make up some tuna fish." Will shakes his head. "Thanks a lot, Mrs. Cooper," he says with quiet politeness, "but Yumi just told me she isn't feeling well. I think I better take her home." "She looks the very picture of health to me!" you reply. "But then she always does." You beam at her, then show them to the door. You watch from behind the glass screen, waving, until they drive away. Well, what now? Laundry and ironing, you think. And then to figure out how to put Mrs. Cooper to work for me! Next: "Hanging with Mrs. Cooper" |
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