by Ghostly Writer
(ghostlywriter@hotmail.com)
Chapter 2: Training
The next three months passed slowly and painfully.
They passed slowly because each and every day was a nightmare
of paranoia and indecision for Bryan. He knew that these people
- whoever they were -had something in mind for him. He just didn't
know what. He did have something to go on, though - he had a name
for their group.
He'd found it when he'd woken up. The room was empty save for
the most basic of fittings. He awoke lying on the carpet, naked.
The bed was gone, the dressing screen, the mirror - everything.
He could have believed it was all a dream, or at the very least
a party gone badly wrong, but when he stumbled down to the kitchen
he realized it had all happened.
Lying on the kitchen table, next to his clothes - which had been
neatly folded - was a videotape. There was a small card on top
of it, with a stylized logo and two words on it - The Veil. He
searched the whole of the house, but could find nothing else beyond
the ordinary. The entire place, it seemed, had been set up for
him.
Taking the videotape with him he left the house, returned home,
and watched the contents. It was fairly sordid stuff. Apart from
several scenes of charged sex between him and 'Mrs. Barnes', who
made sure the camera got a good look at both of their faces, there
was also footage of him dressed in much the same outfit that she
had worn - stockings, basque and garter belt. He looked at his
semi-comatose form on the tape and wondered how they ever managed
to fit him into the clothing. But, he had to admit, he didn't
seem to make a bad woman.
The final shot of the video was the most haunting, however. The
woman involved had just finished an extensive fellatio session
on him, with grunts and groans that he could only assume were
added in post-production on the soundtrack. That over, she stood
and walked away from the bed, coming towards the camera. She stood
there for a moment, licking her lips. Then, Mrs. Barnes reached
up, and felt at her chin for the seam of her mask. She found it,
and gradually pulled it back, exposing slightly lighter skin beneath.
She kept pulling the mask, rolling it up her face, and with a
final tug, the entire thing came free. The face beneath hers was
revealed.
It was Bryan. He looked at his face, on the tape, and watched
as it spoke, with his own voice.
"Remember, Bryan. Anyone."
He'd thought for a long time after he switched off the video.
He was deeply fearful of The Veil now. They were able to assume
any appearance, it seemed, with the minimum of effort. They had
the raw material for an entire series of blackmail videotapes.
And they seemed to know his innermost secrets.
He didn't know what to do. He felt he couldn't go to the authorities;
they'd never believe his story, for starters - there was no physical
evidence. He hadn't checked, but he was willing to believe there
was no Mrs. Barnes at 23 Cherry Tree Drive. There was no mask.
There was only a box, and this videotape, which any layman would
assume was just Hollywood trickery at work. No, he quickly realized
he only had himself to rely upon in this situation. And it seemed
that the only forward was to co-operate. If he did anything else,
he feared the consequences.
That led to the pain. Bryan knew what the woman had been referring
to, and he knew what the 'preparation' entailed. He had to give
in to those dark desires The Veil had apparently awakened in him,
and be ready to do their work for them. Which meant he had to
be able to become a woman.
The first thing he had to do was lose weight and change his body
shape. He went to a nutritionist, a doctor, and a physical fitness
instructor and got himself enrolled in diet plans, vitamin regimens
and training programs galore. He didn't enjoy too much of it,
but at the end of the first month, he'd lost almost 28 pounds,
and his body was much slimmer.
He saw no need for any surgical procedures, as it appeared The
Veil's skills with mask-making prohibited the need for it. However
at the beginning of the second month he began to tentatively explore
the transvestite scene in London. The first month might have been
physically challenging, but the second month was a test of other
types of willpower.
At first, he only just managed to go to the shops and browse.
He couldn't get up the guts to say anything, and wished desperately
that he still had the mask. It was only when a sales assistant
remarked how slim he was looking that he felt flattered enough
to ask some basic questions. From then on in, he was educated
in the ways of feminine illusion.
He always stopped short of the practical element, though. He was
waiting until once more he could pull on a female mask, and then
would he make his full debut as a woman. In the meantime he learnt
to wear bras and how to use breast forms, how to use a gaff and
how to walk in heels, but he never went out in drag, nor did he
own any items in his flat. He always just got help from the many
people he met on the TV scene. They thought him a little strange,
but money dropped here and there usually ended any questions.
The third month came, and he was pleased to see that he was approaching
his target weight and desired physique. It had been an intensive
training period - more intensive than an athletes, he guessed
- but it had been worth it. Now he could stand in front of the
mirror and feel proud of his body, and also imagine what it might
feel like to actually complete the illusion he'd been striving
for.
As the end of the third month came, and February began, he was
increasingly nervous, but excited, too. He had not been contacted
by The Veil at all during his three months of training, although
he couldn't be sure he hadn't been watched or assisted by one
of them. He was still seeing Fay, although with a decreasingly
regularity. Their sex was urgent and unemotional now, more of
a release for Bryan's pent-up frustrations than true love-making.
He hadn't told her anything, but his paranoia kept him wondering
if perhaps she'd seen the tape, or part of it, and was keeping
it from him for some reason. She never even asked about his rapid
loss of weight.
He watched the mail like an over-enthusiastic family dog. He forced
himself out of bed to be ready when it arrived; he woke early
on Saturdays to make sure he picked up the mail fresh, and he
spoke to the post office, asking them to be sure to deliver all
packages to him, personally.
Then all he had to do was wait.
* * *
His life changed once more on a Saturday morning, the first in
March.
He'd almost begun to give up hope. It seemed like no packages
were going to arrive. But then, out of the blue, he was awoken
once more by a buzz on the door. This surprised him, as he'd been
getting up consistently before the postman arrived for a month.
Running down to the door, he took a deep breath and then swung
it open. The postman stood there, brandishing a box - and larger
than before. What on Earth could it be, he wondered. Looking at
the man, he realized it was the same man he'd been greeting every
day for a month.
"Early start this morning?" Bryan inquired casually.
The postman nodded, smiled, and extended his clipboard. Bryan
signed, not even caring about just who this man might be, and
shut the door, running upstairs.
He was prepared for this moment, or at least as much as he could
be within his self-imposed rules. He had prepared a plain, casual
outfit for himself - jeans, t-shirt, a light jumper. He had also
managed to 'borrow' one of Fay's bras. It just about fitted him.
He didn't have breast forms yet - some small part of him still
wondered if this was all a joke - so he had to make do with conventional
rolled up socks. Still, he figured with a long coat and a mask,
he'd be able to pass for a woman.
That was, of course, assuming that the box contained a mask. Like
a schoolkid prolonging the agony of waiting for that special present,
he took his time, showering and changing into his outfit before
he began to open the box. Then, carefully, he cut through the
tape seams and opened it.
It was about double the length of the first box he'd received,
but the same height, and as he opened it he realized there could
be multiple masks inside. The prospect thrilled him, and he moved
quickly to get the inside layer of polystyrene removed. It came
back to reveal something he didn't expect.
There were two masks inside the box, each one sitting on a wig
block. The one closest to him was what puzzled him most. He reached
in and pulled it out, holding it up before him. It was a male
face. The face of a man, around his age, with black hair and a
thick mustache. He looked the mask over for a moment, examining
the detail, which looked as good if not better than the first
mask he'd been sent.
Puzzled, he put the male mask to one side, and with rising excitement,
picked up the second head. It was female, but much more glamorous
than the first mask he'd worn. A wave of golden-blonde hair fell
down to the bottom of the box, and as he picked it up and turned
the face towards him, he realized the hair was so long it would
fall about his shoulders. The face took his breath away. Even
cast in rubber, without his own features to animate it from inside,
this was a beautiful face. Rounded, sensual lips were complimented
by wide, expressive eyes, and high eyebrows. He couldn't wait
to get it on, to once again experience the clinging feel of rubber
which he'd dreamt about for three months.
Walking straight to the new floor to ceiling mirror he'd had installed
in the bedroom, he looked carefully at the rear of the mask. There
didn't seem to be any seam this time. He was slightly confused
by this, but pulling at the rubber at the rear of the mask, he
guessed he'd be able to squeeze his head in without needing a
seam. Perhaps, he thought, the first mask was one for 'training'
- this one was the real thing. He smiled at the idea that he might
now have 'graduated', but he had a feeling there was still much
more to come.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he smiled, and then raised the
mask up in front of him. "No time like the present,"
he reasoned, and began to pull it on. His hands were pushed inside
the mask's confines, and he raised them up, pulling both of his
wrists apart. The rubber spread obligingly, and the top of his
head fitted inside easily. Carefully he withdrew his hands, and
began to tug down at the side of the mask, an inch or so at a
time. He closed his eyes and felt his excitement rising as gradually,
the mask descended onto his head.
Within a minute or so it was on, although he'd been cautious.
Now he went to work on the features. He still had his eyes closed
as he pressed down his new nose, and snapped his ears into place.
Finally he ran his hands all over the face, smoothing out the
neck, cheeks and forehead. As before, the mask seemed to be made
perfectly for him; the features slid on easily, and the fit was
natural and not at all uncomfortable. He opened his eyes, and
smiled at the result.
"Hello, gorgeous," he said to himself in the mirror.
The woman facing him was young, perhaps in her mid-20s. She had
a very attractive face, with high cheekbones, full lips, and dark
blue eyes, like Bryan's own. Her hair fell down over her shoulders,
and when she moved her head, the hair moved with it in flowing
waves. Bryan knew he'd find her attractive, and that fact just
made him even more excited.
Relief flooded through him, and arousal too. Finally, after all
his hard work, he was back to where he'd begun. It hadn't been
a dream, it had been real; and the question was now, where would
it lead him.
Right then, he didn't care. He had some serious shopping to do
for his new female persona.
* * *
Stepping outside of his flat was a test in itself. He spent a
few minutes looking at the mask closely in the mirror, checking
it in different lights, talking to himself, watching the way it
moved. He was once more astounded by how realistic it seemed to
be. He could have a conversation with someone and they'd never
know he was a man.
That is, he reasoned, if they were deaf. While his male voice
wasn't deep and butch, it wasn't particularly feminine either.
But with some experimentation, and some whispering, he was able
to passably imitate a female voice after not too long. He just
hoped he wasn't going to have to use it too often.
He'd prepared for this moment, so took with him on his shopping
trip a substantial amount of cash. He didn't want to have to try
and sign a card payment slip with a male name on it. He didn't
have a handbag or purse yet, so he had to make do by putting the
cash inside his coat pocket. With that onboard, he was ready to
go.
One nerve-wracking walk later, where at every step he expected
to be decried by some member of the public, and he was on the
Underground. Sitting in a relatively quiet carriage, he kept his
head down and tried to be unnoticed until the train reached the
city center.
His first stop was at a major department store. Grabbing a basket
he went wild in the aisles, piling high lingerie and clothing
of all types. He bought everything in one size from one store,
then moved to another and bought a second set of clothing in a
slightly different size. There was no way he was going to try
anything on, and while he had receipts he figured he was safe.
After a couple of hours, he struggled back to the Underground
with his purchases, and took a cab from the station nearest to
his flat. With the door finally closed behind him, he slumped
down on the sofa and pulled off his shoes. Rubbing absently at
his sore feet, he wondered what he'd wear first. He fumbled in
one of the bags, and smiled to himself. There was no contest,
really. But first, he had to prepare.
* * *
It took an hour to get ready before he could dress. Before he
did anything else, he slowly removed the mask. He wanted it to
be the final part of his preparations, so he took it off and placed
it on the Styrofoam head. Then he took a long hot bath, and shaved
all the hair he could manage, except for around his groin. He
didn't plan to be showing anyone his panties, anyway. Then he
waxed his legs for an even, sheer feel. Finally he stood before
the mirror and began to dress.
The first step was to hide his masculinity. He didn't want to
be particularly restricted in his feminine guise - after all,
a good part of the reason he was doing this was the sexual excitement
- but at the same time he wanted to look right for the part. The
best compromise he could come up with was to flatten his balls
against his body, and then pull his penis straight up. He laid
a panty liner on top, and taped the whole thing down with surgical
tape. Then he took a pair of black, silk panties, in a large size,
and stepped into them. They slid up his legs smoothly, and he
felt a rush of excitement flow through him.
With just the panties on, he removed a pair of tights from one
of his bags. They were sheer, with added Lycra, and called Barely
Black by the makers. Unfolding them from the packaging, he realized
his hands were trembling as he let the legs drop in front of him.
This was the moment he'd been waiting for. He sat down on his
bed and bunched up the left leg of the tights. When all he had
in his hand was the foot of the tights, he slipped his left foot
inside, and pulled the tights over his heel with a smooth gesture.
He bit his lip at the feeling as he slowly pulled the tights all
the way up to his knee, relishing every second. The sheer nylon
and Lycra mix made the tights smooth and soft, and he could feel
his arousal straining in his new panties.
Moving quicker now, anxious to get the illusion complete, he bunched
up the other tights leg and pulled it on. Carefully he pulled
up the tights, working them up his legs, until the crotch settled
over his own. With a snap, he let the waistband hug him securely.
He looked at his new legs in the mirror and smiled. All that time
on the exercise bike and stair-climber had paid off. His legs
were slim, rounded in the right places, and now, covered by the
Barely Black tights, they were sexier than he had ever imagined.
With his legs finished, he went to work on his body. First of
all he attached two breast forms to his chest with adhesives.
He couldn't believe how realistic they looked when he watched
himself in the mirror. His female shape was beginning to form
before his eyes. Next he picked out a bodyshaper which went over
his tights and the breast forms. It constricted his waist sufficiently,
giving him a convincing, hourglass figure. He turned this way
and that in front of the mirror, examining his reflection. Everything
looked fine so far, he reasoned.
His underwear was finished, so now he turned to outerwear. He'd
selected a thin, pencil-line skirt for his first outfit; charcoal
gray in color, it looked business-like but still passably casual.
He stepped into it quickly, leaving it loose around his waist.
Just like a man, he thought. He always put his trousers on first,
but whenever he watched Fay, she put on a blouse first. That was
what he came to next, picking up a silk, cream colored blouse
that he pulled on and buttoned over his new breasts. Tucking it
in, he zipped the skirt up the side, and then picked out a pair
of shoes. He'd seen a pair of black high heels in his size, and
bought them immediately. It was lucky he had small feet, he thought,
otherwise getting shoes to fit him would have been a nightmare.
The pair he'd settled for weren't too high in heel size - about
an inch - but enough to give him a feminine calf and accentuate
his walk. He slipped his feet into them and walked around for
a moment, enjoying the feel of the tights on his feet, the increased
height the heels gave him.
He turned and strode over to his reflection. From the neck down,
he looked like an ordinary woman, dressed for business perhaps.
Sure, his hands needed a little work, but that was nothing a little
makeup and nail polish couldn't cure. He took one last look at
his male face, and then walked over to fetch his mask. Bringing
it back to the mirror, he lifted it up high, spread the rubber
apart, and pulled it down onto his head.
It engulfed him, and as it did, he felt like he was passing through
a gateway. Everything before this had just been playacting, working
with a false face, a different look. Now, with all his work completed,
his female guise finally perfected - now he was becoming someone
else. Someone different. He didn't know much about that person,
yet, but he knew he was going to find out.
The rubber contracted around his head as he withdrew his hands,
pushing the edges of the mask down against his neck. Using the
adhesive that worked with his breast forms, he stuck down the
edges of the mask, and then moved the blouse about his neck to
cover things up. Then he turned and looked at the woman before
him.
Her name was Mary, he'd decided that now. "Hi there, Mary,"
he said.
"Hello, Bryan. Pleased to meet you," she replied. Her
voice was breathy, a low tone, and immediately turned Bryan on.
The way she stood, with her hands resting on her hips, was a turn-on
too. She smiled invitingly to him, tossing her golden hair about
her head. Then she turned slightly away, walked over to his bed,
and lifted up one leg. Placing her foot on the edge of the bed,
she looked seductively at him in the mirror, then leant forward,
running her hands over the tights she wore. She let her hands
roam, all the way up her leg, and threw her head back with a moan
of pleasure as her hands came to the top of her leg. She knew
how to turn him on, and she was doing it expertly.
The door buzzer smashed Bryan's fantasy into shards. He started,
dropping his leg down and looking in the direction of the front
door. It couldn't be Fay, he thought. She was out of town for
the weekend. He wasn't expecting anyone else, and he didn't have
friends who were the type to drop in, unexpectedly. He paused
for a moment, wondered what he should do. If it was someone he
knew, he couldn't go and meet them dressed as Mary. If it was
a stranger....
He walked to the intercom and pressed the talk button, speaking
in a voice that was half him, half Mary. "Yes? Who is it?"
"My name is Reeves. I'm a friend of Mrs. Barnes."
Bryan's hand shot back from the intercom in shock. He hadn't heard
Mrs. Barnes' name in over three months... but he knew it could
only mean one thing. Whoever it was downstairs, they were from
The Veil.
* * *
It was a man this time. He was short, stocky, with a large leather
jacket over his frame. He eyed Bryan with suspicion as he came
into the flat, but didn't say anything. Bryan felt extremely nervous
as they stepped into his lounge. If this man was from The Veil,
then he assumed he knew Bryan was in disguise. But something about
the man made Bryan suspicious of him.
He sat down casually, indicating for Bryan to do the same. Bryan
carefully lowered himself into a chair, crossing his legs as he'd
practiced for so long. He got a slight thrill as he felt the nylon
of his tights brush against itself. The man looked at him without
a trace of emotion for a good minute. Bryan felt like he was under
inspection, and found himself touching his hair and hemline almost
unconsciously.
"A good job," the man said suddenly, after what seemed
like an eternity. He smiled at Bryan. "Most guys end up wearing
outfits that make them look like hookers, first time out. Nice
to see you resisting that urge."
"I.. I just wanted to look fairly normal," Bryan said
in his Mary voice. His thoughts went to the fairly risqué
outfits he had, still stashed away
in his shopping.
"You've been working on the voice, too," the man continued.
"That's good to see. Too many people forget that. Keep it
up."
"Thank you," Bryan said demurely. He wondered what else
the man was here for, apart from congratulating him.
"You're almost through now, you know. You don't have much
further to go."
"Go with what?" Bryan asked. "I still don't understand
properly what is going on. I mean, so far this just seems like
some sort of wild sexual fantasy that I never knew I wanted to
have."
"Well, at least you're enjoying yourself. I wouldn't want
you to feel like you weren't having fun."
Bryan eyed the man carefully. "I get the feeling you knew,
anyway. You knew about.. something. You knew this would work.
That woman, she said I was perfect. Perfect for what?"
"For our line of work," the man said casually. "That's
all."
"That's it? That's all I get to know?"
"Right now, yes."
Bryan sighed. "So, what's next?"
"Your first assignment. Your passing out, if you will. With
that over, you'll be formally initiated."
"Into what? You make it sound like some sort of exclusive
club."
"It is," the man said. "Very exclusive." He
leant forward, and began to remove his jacket.
"Okay, what do I have to do?" Bryan asked.
"Simple," said the man. "You have to do this."
He reached up, and with both hands, he grabbed hold of the skin
just under his chin. He pulled sharply, and there was a tearing
sound. The mask came free, and he pulled it upwards while at the
same time, dipping his head forwards. In one practiced motion,
the mask came off - and long, blonde hair fell down about his
head. Then he looked up, and became a she. Bryan was looking at
a woman, under the mask. She shrugged off the leather jacket and
pulled open her shirt, revealing her breasts, which were held
down by bandages. She proceeded to remove her shirt and then go
to work on the bandages.
Bryan sat opposite, stunned into silence. He'd seen enough masking
by members of The Veil to take it for granted now, but such a
radical transformation was still amazing to him. And now, it seemed,
the same was expected of him. "Tell me more," he said
to the woman now opposite him. She smiled and began to relate
his instructions.
* * *
It was early evening. The clientele in the hotel bar were almost
all residents, weary businessmen mostly, the occasional holiday
maker or long distance traveler. The music was subdued, the lighting
casual, and the drinking not too serious.
One man took exception to that rule. He sat alone, at the bar,
drinking whiskey doubles, and dipping his hand into a bowl of
nuts. He glanced at his watch, tried to determine the time. His
eyes refused to focus on the hands of his timepiece, so he looked
in the direction of the barman, and opened his mouth to speak.
"About time you got some company," a female voice next
to him said. He turned to face the intrusion. "Or, ten past
ten, if you want to be specific," the voice continued.
All he could see was a mass of golden hair, at first. Then, with
some effort, he made out a face. It was beautiful. Full lips,
round, expressive eyes, and high eyebrows - that were arched in
his direction. He expanded his view to the rest of her, and liked
what he saw. She was wearing a long, black dress, that hugged
her curves just enough for his liking, and ended just below her
knees. He saw a glimpse of dark legs beneath the hem. "What?"
he finally managed to say.
"I said, I thought you could use some company." In a
smooth movement, she mounted the bar stool next to him. "It
looks to me like you've been alone too long." He muttered,
almost to himself. "What's that? I didn't catch it."
"I'm sorry," he said, too loudly for casual conversation.
"I think... I'm a little drunk."
"I think you might be right," she replied. She put one
hand on his shoulder, straightened him up a little. "What's
your name?"
He took time to formulate an answer. "Donald. Donald Jordan."
Another pause. "What's... yours?"
"Mary," she said, smiling at him. "Pleased to meet
you, Donald. Are you just passing through, or are you here for
longer?" She signaled to the barman for another two drinks.
Donald took a deep breath, and decided to try and have a conversation.
* * *
"... just get him talking. Once you're past the introduction
and you're into small talk, no-one will pay too much attention
to you. After a while, maybe half an hour, get him back to his
room. Don't worry if people see you together - in fact, it's better
if they do. Get him into his room, and get him in the bathroom;
then call me. I'll do the rest."
* * *
The knock came less than ten seconds after Mary replaced the receiver.
She hurried to the door and opened it, admitting a woman in dark
slacks and blouse. She had dark, straight hair slicked back on
her head, and eyes that were dark and haunting. She had a travel
bag in one hand, a larger bag in the other, and looked to Mary
as she entered. Mary nodded, indicating the bathroom. The woman
returned the nod, and stood next to the bathroom door, retrieving
something from within a bag as she took up her position.
"Donald?" Mary called out. "Are you okay in there?"
"I thought.. well, I'm okay now. I'll be out in a second."
The toilet flushed, and the door opened, slowly. As Donald stepped
out, the woman's hand clamped around his mouth and nose, and Mary
moved forward, grabbing him as he fell towards the floor. The
chloroform had acted faster than they expected.
"Help me get him back in there," the woman ordered.
The two of them lifted Donald's comatose form, tipping him into
the bath.
"You think he'll be okay?" Mary asked.
The other woman nodded. "He's out like a light. Use these
to tie his hands and feet, just to be safe." The woman retrieved
two plastic ties from her bag, handing them to Mary. "Now.
Are you ready?"
"Yes. By the way.. do you have a name?"
"Yes," the woman replied, stepping out of the bathroom
and back into the bedroom itself. She threw her bag onto the king-size
bed. "Get yourself ready. We've got a lot to get done."
Mary nodded, and stepped into the bathroom. Facing her own reflection
in the mirror, she reached up and scratched at her neck, looking
for a seam. She found it, and pulled upwards. The sealant tore,
and moving her fingers quickly, she separated the false skin from
the real. That done, she only had to remove her face. Closing
her eyes, she began to pull upwards. Her features creased, distorted
as she pulled up; her chin stretched outwards, rippling, her head
fell back, and then in one swift movement, it was over.
Bryan put his head down and smiled at himself in the mirror. Not
a bad performance so far, he thought. Reaching behind his back,
he pulled down the zip on the dress. It fell from about his shoulders,
and he pulled it forward, revealing his false breasts to the mirror.
His bra was black and lace edged, and came off quickly. With a
wince, he pulled off his breast forms, let the dress fall to his
feet, and kicked off his heels. Slowly, he rolled down the black
tights he was wearing, tugging them off his feet. All that was
left was a pair of black silk panties, and those slipped off easily.
The final touch was to remove the taped on panty liner he was
using to keep his cock flattened. It was a relief to remove it.
"Have you stripped him yet?" called out the woman from
the bedroom.
"Doing it now," Bryan replied. He removed Donald's clothes,
and bound his wrists and ankles together. Bryan sat him up in
the bath and took a good look at the man he had just managed to
partially seduce.
"How does he look?" the woman asked.
"Well, he's a lot more hairy than me, to be honest. A little
fatter, too." Bryan picked up Donald's clothes and began
to put them on. They were a little large for him, but workable.
"It won't matter. You'll be under the sheet. Come on, let's
get going. Don't forget the wedding ring." Bryan removed
the ring from Donald's finger with some effort, and with that
in place, stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Everything
was set up according to plan.
In one corner was a tripod, with a camcorder set on top of it.
The bed's sheets were thrown back, and on the bedside table was
an ice bucket, complete with a bottle of champagne. The woman
set two glasses by the bucket as he watched, then turned to face
Bryan.
"I like the champagne. Nice touch."
"Thanks," the woman said, starting to unbutton her blouse.
"I assume," Bryan said, "you're not the person
who met me at the flat." She nodded in reply, pulling apart
her blouse, and revealing a black silk teddy. "Then.. who
are you? I know I'm not supposed to ask, but considering what
we're going to be doing in about three minutes, I'd like to know
the name of the person I'm going to be doing it with."
She smiled slightly at his persistence. "You don't remember
me, Bryan? I'm a little disappointed. But then... you never did
see my face." She dropped her slacks to the floor, revealing
her complete outfit. She was dressed for seduction; black silk
teddy, over a garter belt, holding up black stockings. She stepped
out of her slacks, and with one toe, kicked them aside. Bryan
ran his eyes over her body appreciatively.
"How do I know that's your real face?" Bryan asked.
"It could be a mask."
She shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to trust me."
She pulled out a familiar face from her travel bag. "Speaking
of masks...." It was the other mask Bryan had received in
his second box, which he now knew to be an exact replica of Donald's
face. "Put it on. I - well, Mary - will be right back."
She grabbed the bag and walked into the bathroom, shutting the
door.
"How will my mask fit you? I mean, I thought it was designed
for me," Bryan asked through the bathroom door. Facing himself
in the bedroom mirror, he stretched the Donald mask over his head,
pulling it into place. Wearing a male face wasn't quite as thrilling
as a female one, but the prospect of what was coming next had
him excited, all the same.
"You don't know all of our secrets yet, Bryan," the
woman yelled through the door. "Suffice to say, when you're
Mary again, you won't feel any difference." Bryan heard the
door open behind him, and turned to face the new Mary.
She was stunning. A body that Bryan could only dream about, clothed
in a way that Bryan could never emulate. His gaze traveled up
to the face, and he was amazed to watch the Mary mask look at
him through downcast eyelids. She licked her lips seductively.
"Do you.. like?" she asked, teasing him.
"Dumb question," he replied.
"Good, that'll make this even more enjoyable," she said,
coming towards him and grabbing his head in her hands. Their rubber
lips collided and slid over each other, Bryan's tongue darting
into her mouth. He pulled her close to him and ran his hands down
her back, wanting to rip off the teddy and make love to her. After
a few moments of embrace, she pushed away from him, wagging a
finger in his face. "Passion is good. But save it for the
camera, Bryan."
She walked over and flicked a switch on the camcorder, then glanced
in his direction. The face looking at him was the same face he'd
seen in his own reflection. It was like being in a hall of mirrors,
the same image repeating over and over, in reality and in his
mind.
"Let's start," she whispered.
* * *
It began with a little playacting. Assuming by the time a camcorder
was brought into proceedings the evening would have been well
advanced, they began their show with a few glasses of champagne,
some light petting, and the gradual removal of Bryan's clothes.
By carefully blocking the camera with 'Mary' at the right moments,
no-one watching the tape would ever realize this was not Donald
enjoying the attentions of a young lady.
Eventually, Bryan was under the sheets, and Mary - for want of
a better name - was left to parade around in front of him. She
knew how turned on Bryan was - it had been impossible to disguise
- and she played to his arousal.
"I just knew," she said. "I knew when I first saw
you, sitting there at the bar. I knew I wanted you." Bryan
listened in wonder to the impersonation she was doing of his own
voice as Mary. No-one would know the difference on the tape, except
perhaps Donald himself - and his memory was sure to be hazy. Mary
stepped up to the bed and raised one leg up in front of him, putting
her foot on the edge. She undid one stocking and began to roll
it down her leg.
Bryan stared at her, and realized something. He'd seen this seduction
before. Before, when he was handcuffed to a bed, elsewhere in
London.
"I'm... I'm glad you came over," he said, falteringly.
"I.. I loved the look of you. I couldn't take my eyes off
of you...." He was whispering, making sure the camera microphone
didn't pick up his speech nuances; but he knew she could hear
him. "You... it's you, isn't it?"
"Yes, Donald," she said, finishing her second stocking,
"it's me." She reached behind her back and unhooked
her bra, freeing her breasts. At the same time, she kneeled down
on the bed, and crawled over to him, cupping his chin in her hand.
They kissed, and Bryan took hold of her, pulling her under the
sheets with him.
"Oh, God," he moaned. "It's you, isn't it... you're
the same woman. I.. oh, God - you're the one - "
"Bryan, I want you to fuck me," she commanded, the whispered
urgency in her voice born of longing. "You know who I am,
Bryan. I'm your fantasy woman, your ultimate lay... I'm your partner
now, Bryan. Fuck me, and join me in the Veil...." He grabbed
at her panties and tore them away, and thrust upwards, his cock
ramming inside her. She cried out, pushing herself upwards with
her arms, and began to ride him as he closed his eyes, his world,
his work slipping away.
All he could think of was this woman, this wonderful woman who
he didn't know, but knew him intimately - who knew his most intimate,
innermost secrets. He had nothing to hide from her, and that lifted
him up, making him feel invincible as they made love.
Eventually they turned off the camera, and gave Donald another
shot. After all, the night was young.
* * *
"What's your name?"
"What?"
"I asked," Bryan said, sitting up, "what's your
name. I know before you didn't want to tell me, but... things
seem to be different now. I just thought you might tell me. After
all... you seem to know everything about me."
'Mary' turned around to him. She had finished packing up the video
camera, and now was starting to get dressed once more. The mask
was still over her face. She looked at him quizzically.
"How are things different, Bryan? Because we've fucked?"
Bryan was taken aback. "Uh, well... yes, I suppose that's
part of it. But I thought you said you were my partner, now."
She nodded. "So, don't I get to call you something? Apart
from 'hey you'?" She smiled at that, and reached up to her
face.
"If you want to know my name, you might as well know everything
else," she said quietly. Bryan held up his hand.
"Wait, okay? Just wait. Let... let me. Come over here."
She grinned at his suggestion, and sat down next to him on the
bed. He was still naked, and he realized as the face of Mary came
closer to him, that he was becoming aroused once more by her presence.
He took hold of her mask where he knew the seam would be, and
began to tug at it.
"You're sure about this, Bryan..." she asked. He nodded
in reply, his fingers under the edge of the mask now, pulling
up. The latex chin softened and crumpled in his hand, and she
dipped her head down, helping him to get the mask over her chin
and up over her face. With a quick tug, the whole thing came away
in his hand, and she looked up at him.
It wasn't the face he'd seen when she arrived. The hair was the
same - dark, combed straight back, flat to her head with gel.
But the face was younger, with lines that were slightly less harsh
- more attractive. Bryan leant forward, almost without thinking,
and kissed her lightly. She returned the kiss just as casually,
then leant back, smiling at him. "Well? What do you think?"
"You're... a very attractive woman. I... actually, I'm not
sure what to say. It's kind of a strange experience, when you've
made love to a woman so many times, and never seen her face. Her
real face."
"It was always the real me, underneath, Bryan." He nodded.
He knew he was going to need some time to think this through.
Whatever was happening here, the Veil aside, it was definitely
unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. "By the way,
the name is Samantha."
Her sudden announcement bounced him back to reality. "Oh.
Sorry. I was just... well, I was just thinking that this is a
fairly.. unique situation for me. I mean, I know I was recruited
sort of.. under duress, but the truth is...."
"You're starting to like it," Samantha completed for
him. "I know. It was the same with me."
"It was?"
"Yes. Listen, Bryan, I know you want to talk, and I'm sure
you have a million questions. But we need to finish this job,
and fast. I have to get out of here, and you need to get changed,
and say goodbye to your alter ego in the bathroom. Okay?"
Bryan nodded. She smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and moved into
the bathroom.
Bryan stepped out of the bed, and walked over to the bedroom mirror.
The discarded mask of Donald's face was lying on the floor next
to it, the mouth gaping, eyes staring. He picked it up. Samantha
walked out of the bathroom, her original mask on.
"I prefer the real you," Bryan said, handing his mask
to her.
"I know, but rules are rules... I've got to leave looking
the same as when I came in. And so have you."
"I know, I know. Okay, well, you'd better get going."
She picked up her bags, gave the room one last check over.
"I've taken off the ties on Donald. You'll need to use this
to wake him up." She handed him a small hypodermic. "Okay?"
"Yes." She walked to the door. "Samantha?"
"Yes?"
"Will I see you again soon?"
She smiled enticingly. "One way or another, Bryan."
* * *
Donald awoke slowly, feeling as though his consciousness was pushing
through a cotton wool hedge. As soon as he opened his eyes, he
was treated to another novel sensation - the feel of a pain buzzsaw
being inserted into his frontal lobe.
"Jesus, my head," he muttered. He sat up, finding himself
in bed, naked. He shook his head, once, twice, and then glanced
up. What he saw surprised him. "Who the hell are you?"
Bryan stood at the end of the bed, almost fully dressed as Mary.
All that was missing was his heels and tights, and those were
conveniently being pulled into place as he turned around to face
Donald. Dropping his skirt down, he smiled his best Mary smile
as Donald watched him step into his heels. "Hi there, lover,"
he said.
"What... who... what's going on?"
"I'm leaving, baby. I've got to be at work in a few hours."
"You're.. leaving? When did you arrive? I don't know who...."
'Mary' looked downcast. "Oh, Donald.. did you forget what
happened last night? Oh Donald, you were great. I didn't think
you'd forget it so soon." Donald looked even more confused.
"Look, I've got your card, baby. I'll give you a call soon,
okay?"
"Oh.. okay," Donald stammered. Bryan leant down, and
kissed Donald lightly on the cheek.
"G'bye," he said, turning and walking to the door. As
he stepped into the corridor, he realized something; he'd enjoyed
playing Mary in front of Donald. More than he'd enjoyed playing
for the camera.
Perhaps, he thought, that means my training is really complete.