This choice: Go back to the Fuck Room • Go Back...Chapter #40Pretty Little Things by: imaj   It isn’t Patterson waiting for you in the Fuck Room when you arrive but Kendra Saunders. She’s wearing the same clothes – the lime green minidress and boots – that you wore this afternoon when you were pretending to be her. Her stance is all wrong though. When you were Kendra you were languid and sleek. The girl in front of you bristles with pent up aggression. The sight is so weird that you visibly double take at it.
“Don’t know how you do it Prescott,” says Kendra. “Let yourself be like the cunt so easily.”
The statement only serves to addle your brain further. You stare in stupefaction for a few moments until your mind finally catches up. Is it Patterson? The words must have slipped out your mouth without you realising it, as Kendra nods and replies.
“Yeah it’s me.”
“But you’ve been people before,” you mutter without thinking. “You fooled Caleb that you were me…”
“Being you is easy,” replies Patterson, his hands on his hips. “You’re too much of coward to be a problem. This cunt’s mind wants to take over. I remember you trying to sink your claws into that pussy Carpenter earlier now,” he says, tilting his Kendra head to the side quizzically. Not sure if I think you’re a total faggot or if you get a little respect for being willing to go that far…” He grimaces, but it looks unnatural on Kendra’s face. “The thought of touching Carpenter makes me want to throw up…”
You shrug as you think about it. All you do is just gently steer the personalities in the direction you want to go, you hadn’t realised there was any skill to it. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, not having my face shoved into crate is neat and all, but what did you want?”
Patterson steps forward, taking your head in delicate brown fingers. He turns it to the side and inspects your cheek. “It’s just a bruise,” he says dismissively. “Quit complaining.” He steps back and folds his arms, almost pushing his boobs out of the dress he is wearing. “I decided your idea wasn’t that bad at all.”
You give him a puzzled look. “What idea?”
“Straussler’s girl,” he explains. “Monique. Use her to get close to him. Fucker’s loaded, might be useful later.”
“Okay,” you say slowly, still not getting it. “So why do you need me here now, and why uh…” You finish the question by pointing vaguely in his direction.
“It’s a permanent position,” he grins wolfishly. You don’t get it, not at first anyway. He pulls a mask from off the top of a crate and gives it to you. It’s the one you made earlier, with Monique Travers’ name clear on the inside. “Go on back and get changed.
“Wait, what,” you stutter. “But there aren’t any clothes.”
“There will be when she gets here,” adds Patterson, still grinning in a way that looks out of place on Kendra’s face. “Get changed and hide in the back till I call you out. You’ll know what to do,” he explains ominously. You stand stunned. “Fuck’s sake,” mutters Patterson. “I called Monique as this cunt, told her I was sorry for fucking about with Straussler at the party and asked her to come over here so we could talk about it.”
It’s crazy but the only thought that occurs to you is whether or not Patterson used those exact words when he spoke to Monique as Kendra.
“…she’ll be here soon. I’m going to bring her up here,” he continues. “And you need to get fuckin’ changed.” He stomps out, leaving you alone in the Fuck Room again.
You slip past an old gym horse and into a recess at the back of loft. It’s cold back here, so you don’t take your clothes off. Instead you jut slip the mask onto your face. Monique is so much smaller than you that it shouldn’t be a problem. You stomach turns over and spots wobble in front of your eyes, but you manage to remain upright as the room seems to grow round you.
Monique is small.
Your pants pool at your feet and you have to reach down and pull them back up, tightening your belt a few notches. Even then, they still bunch up at your ankles. You shirt is much the same, it hangs loosely round your shoulders and your hands are only three quarters up the length of the sleeves. You hold one hand up and watch as the last part of the fabric of the sleeve hangs loosely.
You lower yourself to the floor, sitting cross-legged. You lean back and wait for Patterson to return with his victim.
It isn’t too long before you hear people enter the Fuck Room. A couple of voices carry through the loft and you begin to make out their conversation. “…is great, but why’d I have to come out here for you to say it.” You recognise the voice from earlier – Monique.
“Well there’s someone I want you to meet,” you hear Patterson say in Kendra’s voice. It certainly sounds like Kendra, but there’s just some nagging little quality to it that hints otherwise. Of course, since Monique barely knows Kendra or Patterson, you doubt she’d spot it. “I said, there’s someone here I want you to meet.”
You figure that to be your cue, and stumble to your feet before walking towards the voices. Your outsized clothes trail badly in your wake as you push your way past all the abandoned gym equipment.
“Who… who… who…” stammers Monique as you approach. Though it isn’t the first time you have seen her, the last time you looked at Monique your view was tinged by Kendra’s personality and her venomous envy. Now you can view Monique without that baggage, though Monique’s own feelings about her appearance teeter on the edge of your mind.
She is pretty, very pretty – a budding beauty ready to bloom. Now that her memories fizzle within your reach, you see that she is only a freshman. It makes your stomach twist a little, the idea of suddenly losing a couple of years, but the body might be compensation. Monique is petite and slim, though the sight of her twin has robbed her of her normally sunny countenance. You admire the delicate features of her face and the shiny brown hair drawn into a loose ponytail. It’s all yours now, or will be once you help Patterson deal with the original.
“Hiya,” you say to her. It is much easier for you to maintain Monique’s innocent enthusiasm.
“Isn’t it obvious,” drawls Patterson, totally abandoning any pretence of Kendra’s persona. “This is Monique Travers.”
“But… but… but…” stutters the other Monique.
“But she can’t be,” suggests Patterson. “Because you’re Monique? Not any more. Monique needs her clothes. Take them off.”
You smile wanly. Patterson seems to want to play this cruelly, something that doesn’t sit well with you. You have no choice but to play along though. “Please,” you say, using the pleading tone of voice that Monique sometimes falls back on. “Do as she says, for both our sakes. I’m you, really, I am.” You feel a little guilty lying to her, she’s such a sweet girl. “Remember that time when you were four, and you got separated from Mom in the park. I hid under that tree when it started to rain. I was so scared.”
Monique swallows and nods slowly, the memory you dredged up managing to convince her. She starts to unbutton her blouse, slowly peeling it away to reveal a taut stomach and small boobs encased in a simple pink bra. You push down the sense of rising excitement. It’s my body, you think, I see it in the mirror every day. Memories of showering and getting dressed as Monique surface.
You mirror her movements, taking of your own clothes in turn. Two piles form on the floor and soon you are both standing naked. “Thank you,” you tell your twin. “I really am so sorry about this.”
The other Monique’s eyes go wide. “About what?”
“About lying to you,” laughs Patterson. Monique doesn’t have time to react. Patterson slams another mask onto her face. The girl’s body simply melts away to be replaced with your own. “Fuck,” grimaces Patterson. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to see your scrawny ass? Take your shit back there and put some clothes on.”
“Yes boss,” says the replacement you glumly. It picks up the pile of clothes you’ve just discarded and disappears into the back of the loft.
“He’s under your control,” you ask worriedly, looking in the direction the golem has gone.
“Less likely to fuck up that way,” sneers Patterson. “You need to get your clothes on to. You can stay here though.” He laughs an ugly laugh. “Or don’t put them on. Maybe we could have some fun,” he adds, giving you an appraising look.
An urgent Monique thought pushes to the front of your thoughts. It’s a simple no. She isn’t ready to go that far with a guy. Not yet. You blush, mostly on Monique’s instincts, though inside you are relieved that you won’t have to sleep with Straussler.
“I should go,” you say meekly, though it is more Monique’s shyness than your own. You pick up your underwear and slip it on, holding to the Monique thoughts that tell you it is comfortable and familiar.
“Suit yourself,” says Patterson with a shrug. He pulls out another mask from behind a crate as you pull Monique’s jeans up. They’re a tight fit, but they show off your new legs so well. “This is for Straussler,” he tells you before dropping it to the floor beside Monique’s sneakers. “Get a copy as soon as you can.”
“Okay,” you say, trying to hide the mortified sensation coming from Monique’s personality. The idea of betraying Jon revolts her.
But you don’t have a choice, do you?
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