Seanday Massacre 4/6: The Taste for More

I turned the key in the locker and opened the door. Glancing around, I pulled out the rucksack--I heard a familiar clink from inside. Slinging the bag over my shoulder I made my way to the restroom next to the lockers.

I locked myself in a stall and pulled open the bag. With a clink-clink-clink I thumbed through its contents and pulled out a white ceramic mask. I checked its outer surface, it was about the size of a dinner plate although convex in shape. Indentations and bumps suggested where the features of a face might be found. Its inner surface was ashen grey, at the top where you'd expect the forehead was a metallic strip, the name "Ryan Arthur McKenzie" floated in blue above its surface--my name. This was my mask.

Offering it up to my face, I took a deep breath before pushing it home. My world went dark.

----

I woke and grunted with a start as the mask hit me in the balls. I managed to catch it before fell to the floor. I'd done this many times, putting on my own mask refreshes the band inside with my recent memories. Similarly anything new in the mask's band updates my own memories.

Reaching into the bag, I pull out another mask. Externally it looks the same, but the interior surface is a cool blue. The new mask is blank, the band on its inner surface only shows the intricate runes carves in its surface.

Sitting, I bide my time, things have been getting heated at home and I really needed a break. It's got to a point were I'm not really bothered who it is, well, I keep telling myself that, but I know its not true.

I hear the door open, and I sneak a look. He's taking a piss; he's wearing a pink polo shirt, blue shorts and a reversed ball cap. He's got black collar length hair, strong shoulders and back. I chuckle a little, your stereotypical frat jock. "You'll do fine," I whisper to myself.


Waiting for him to finish his business, I place my mask on the floor and balance the blank in my open palm. I hear him finish and I leave the stall. From behind I reach around and plant the mask on his face. I feel it's hard surface sink into the guys face, and then he relaxes, toppling backwards into my arms. I struggle trying to keep us both from falling. Now I've now got sight of his front; he's no more than twenty, but the way his shirt hangs and stretches across his shoulders and arms suggests the weight is down to muscle.

I drag him back to the confines of the stall and sit him against a wall. I lift his polo and dare a peek; yup prime American beef, not defined as such, but there is a natural inherited build.

While I wait for the blank mask to finish copying him I turn his face to the left and right. He's not bad looking; strong features. I'm guessing that he plays sport, football maybe, but the length of his hair suggests Lacrosse. I'll know for sure soon.

Picking up my own mask I study its interior again. It's dusty grey surface is different to the blank mask. I remember the trouble I had translating the spells in the magic book to reach this level of craft. Once my mask is placed on someone the special surface puts the victim to sleep, and the resulting visage becomes my slave.

I lift his polo again, and then loosen the belt on his shorts and pull them open. Although his chest is broad, his waist is narrow--a lot narrower than mine.

The surface of his face starts to glow, and the mask resurfaces and I grab it before it can fall to the floor. Its normal for the victim to remain asleep for a few more minutes after the copy finishes. Valuable time to escape, or in this case to use another mask.

Before the jock has time to wake I push my own mask onto his face. As it sinks into his face, his whole body starts to shimmer, and shift. Within seconds I looking at my double although still dressed in the Jock's clothes. He blinks and looks up at me. "Get up and get undressed," I tell my silent double. He complies immediately and I remove my own clothes which he pulls on himself. My mask remembers what he needs to do; it's done it often enough.

I tell it to leave and, *just be me*, which it does without any questions. I lock myself inside the stall again.

Holding up the newly prepared mask I study its interior. In its surface I can see what looks like a holographic image of the jock. As I tilt it this way and that I can see past his face and his naked torso below. The name "DOMINIC GARRET WESTLAKE III" floats above the memory band. The first clue to my new identity. "Sounds classy," I said smirking to myself.

From the bag I pulled a small tube, and smeared the paste on the inside of the mask. With a match I ignited the interior, there's a flash, and blues flames which go out instantly. The mask is sealed and ready to wear.

Taking a breath, I pushed the new mask to my face.

----

I woke with a start, gasping for air feeling as if I was suffocating. Grabbing at my face I felt for the cold object that had been planted there. I touched my nose, brow, cheeks and chin. Everything was normal. Glancing down, I reeled back in horror. I was completely naked, my clothes dumped in a pile on the floor.

Groaning, I started to breath heavily, "What the fuck was going on?" I tried to recall what had happened, and then the pieces fell into place. I wasn't "Dominic Garret Westlake III", I only looked and thought like him. I laughed off the panic, it was only the last few seconds of memories when I slammed the blank mask into his face.

Relaxing I took a look at the new body I'd acquired. Strong--that I did know--meaty, with a presence of authority. But I knew that anything more than a cursory glance would have to wait. *Dom* had someone waiting outside for him for the past twenty minutes.

This was the part I enjoyed, pulling on the clothes I knew the original was wearing a few minutes earlier; underwear and shorts. I got to my feet and tightened the belt before slipping my feet into the flip-flops. Taking the polo shirt, I pulled it on plucking at the seams to make it drop over my cliff like pecs. Picking up the cap and rucksack I left the stall and cast an eye over my reflection in the mirror.

"Baseball," I muttered, I was wrong with my guesses. I took a breath, deep and long watching my chest balloon. With a now familiar grin I pulled a double bicep pose, "Yeah, I can work with this for a few months."

Pulling my fingers through my thick black hair I reseated the white ball cap. I smiled again, wide and bright with perfect rows of teeth and left the restroom. As I passed the block of lockers I returned the rucksack and went to meet my waiting frat brother.