For Me (Pt 2)

Anna’s face came into view, her expression calm but knowing. She clearly had a secret.

“My name is Anna Webster.”

She smiled, eyes lowering, shy somehow.

“My name is Anna Webster. Anna Webster. Anna… I’m Anna.”

She looked up, eyes narrowing, looking for something. Her hand went to her throat, searching for the edge of the mask, and pulled at it. The ‘skin’ lifted from her collar bone, making her smile widen. Her eyes gleamed as she lifted up the mask and separated the throat from her own, Anna’s face one continuous sheet of skin, like canvas on a tent.

“I am… Anna.”

Her own voice was suddenly present again, making her snort with laughter. She pressed down the throat of the mask experimentally, repeating the words like a mantra, until she found the ‘contact’ point.

“Hello again, I’m Anna,” Anna’s voice said. Then she raised the mask and said, “Or am I?”

Laughing to herself, she pressed the mask back down on her throat and made sure to tuck it beneath the collar of her robe. Then once again she turned around, her reappearance signaling another performance.

“Oh hey Lauren,” Anna said to her reflection. “I didn’t realize you were up. I hope it’s okay that I borrowed your robe.”

As she said these words, she felt a slow burn beginning within her. A sensation that was both familiar and entirely new.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she continued. “I kept thinking about earlier. Remember?”

She came a little closer to the mirror, heat still building within her, pressure rising.

“When you told me,” she said, leaning even closer, so close now she could see the pores on her skin, see her breath slightly fog the mirror’s surface, “that you owned a mask of my face….”

Her voice trailed away. She stood completely still, feeling every sensation she had. Burning hands seemed to be encircling her waist, torching her inhibitions.

Then her hand raised up to her new face once more and grabbed the edge of her chin, pulling at it, pinching the material between her fingertips. The mask separated and stretched out, Anna’s lips detaching from her own with rubbery snap, exposing her own smile beneath, masking her subtle moan. She imagined someone pulling those lips apart, widening this fake mouth, pressing their lips on her real lips, completely aware of the disguise and not just liking it, but loving it.

As she let the lips reform, the face reappear, Lauren realized she loved the disguise, too.

This was an incomparable feeling. She literally was Anna from the neck down, her voice perfect, her face immaculate. Her hair and makeup could do with some help but that was it. She could go dress in Anna’s clothes and literally walk out into the world and be her.

The feeling of complete power was giddying. The sensation of total control over another personality, another looking, was intoxicating. Her knees felt weak. But everything else…

She had to know. Her hand slipped between the folds of her robe, threading inside her cotton panties, finding herself.

“Jesus,” she whispered.

Her fingers brushed across her pussy and came away wet. The feedback was instantaneous and complete; she was turned on in a way she’d never experienced, not ever. This was incredible.

“God, you have got me so fucking horny,” she said in a near whisper. Then she smiled; that was wrong. Her hand snaked beneath the mask and lifted the throat for a moment, the sight in the mirror looking like an invasive object was assaulting her. “Sorry. I meant to say that you, Anna, have gotten me so fucking horny.”

Her hand moved. “Well, what are you going to do about it?” Anna’s voice said.

“I’m glad you asked,” she said, before removing her hand, smoothing down the throat, and turning to leave the bathroom.

“And I’m so glad you like it,” said a voice from her phone.

She’d been lost in her fantasy. The reality of what was happening returned with a lurch. She grabbed the phone. “What the fuck is this thing? It’s too fucking good, it’s – it’s fucking incredible!” Anna’s voice even sounded authentic when she was riled up, she noticed.

The voice, once again, chuckled, a knowing laugh. “I thought you might be impressed. But I wasn’t sure you’d react like this.”

She suddenly felt her face redden, even beneath the mask. She paused, unsure what to say. Was this all some sort of weird kink? Was there really a threat here, or did this person just want her to put the mask on to see if she’d be ‘into it’?

“I’m happy you did, though,” the voice added. “Very much so.”

“I’ll bet,” she said, without thinking. “Okay then, should we get this done? What do you want me to do, send over a picture?”

“Yes,” the voice said simply.

She switched to her camera app, smiled at her new face and took a quick selfie. “I need an email or something.”

“Check yours.”

She did, finding an email from a disposable email server. She replied to it with the image of ‘Anna’ attached.

After a moment’s wait, the voice said “I think you can do better than that, can’t you?”

She sighed. Now she knew how wearing the mask made her felt, she wanted nothing more than to get off the phone and explore these new feelings. “You asked for a photo, there’s a photo.”

Silence.

A silence that grew.

“Don’t you fucking think about threatening me again,” she snarled, amazed at Anna’s voice and attitude. “I did what you wanted, okay? You got your picture. You don’t need to release anything. Right?”

“Perhaps I should show you what sort of thing I was hoping to get.”

“What? Listen, if you want me to, I don’t know, do a dance or some shit–”

Her inbox refreshed and she saw a new reply from the same email. With an attachment.

Irritated, she stabbed at the screen and opened the attached image.

It was her.

Sprawled across her couch.

Dressed in her sexiest underwear.

Smiling her smile.

The image could have been from a ‘boudoir shoot’ or even a spread in a men’s magazine. It wasn’t pornographic, but it wasn’t tame either.

It was also an image she was certain she’d never taken, or posed for. She never would.

“What the fuck,” she whispered.

“Something like this,” the voice said casually, “was what I was hoping for.”

“What – fuck, oh fuck...”

Her feelings of arousal were inverting, turning to panic, to fear.

“Yes?”

The inbox refreshed again. Another email. Another attachment. Another image.

Her again. In the same underwear. But this time standing, the image a reflection of her in a bathroom mirror. Her bathroom mirror.

Before she had time to react, another image arrived.

Taken from the same spot, it showed her leaning forward, close to the mirror, just as she had done earlier. Her hand on her chest. Her eyes focused on the camera, as if to say, “Watch this”.

Then finally, a link arrived to a video file.

She tapped it, heart in her mouth.

The same bathroom – her bathroom – with her in the same outfit. Giggling slightly, she winked at the mirror, at the camera by extension – and reached up to her chest again.

This time she picked. Her fingernails, with the same color polish she always used, scratched at a spot mid-way between her breasts, finding something.

Something she expected. But didn’t want to believe.

The stranger in the video laughed to herself as she peeled up the edge of her mask, watching in glee, enjoying the moment. For a split second she looked at the camera again, eyes wide, as if she could barely believe this was happening, and then turned back to the mirror, face serious. Both hands grasped the edges of the mask, now a floppy piece of skin, and pulled upwards.

Her throat stretched out, her face beginning to flatten, to lose shape and personality, but the eyes were still there – flicking back and forth, as if they could judge her reaction now, remotely, as the mask was lifted upwards and her own face was stretched and distorted beyond recognition.

The mass of blond hair she fought so hard to keep looking good shifted and moved from her head as she ducked down, laughing again, but in a different tone.

The person on the video straightened up, dropped her discarded face on the sink and turned slightly so her face wasn’t reflected in the mirror. A wig cap hid her hair, which she stripped off and tossed aside, allowing her locks to fall free.

Then she approached the camera, coming into focus suddenly, her smile broad and knowing.

Anna looked directly into the lens as she said “Surprise, girlfriend.”

///

“Watched it yet?” the stranger’s voice said as the video ended. Lauren had forgotten for a moment that the call had never dropped.

“Uh, yeah,” Lauren replied. “Is Anna – is she involved?”

“Involved?” The voice laughed. “Yeah, you could say that.”

The voice suddenly became clearer, all artificiality vanishing.

“Considering that the person on the video… is me.”

It was Anna’s voice, the pretense of a neutral or male voice dropped.

Lauren’s mind went blank, stunned with the implications. “What the fuck?!”

“I’ll call you back,” Anna said, disconnecting the call with a throaty laugh, as her own voice cursed her name.

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