Alone Time

Amy couldn’t sleep. For almost two hours she’d laid listless on top of her unwashed sheets staring at the ceiling. In that time all she’d managed to do was count how many veiny cracks were now in the plaster. Running count was 57.

Her arm had long since fallen asleep, having been wedged under her head to prop it up after she’d decided her pillow was too soft. She hadn’t washed up and didn’t plan to. Instead she’d thrown on a loose grey t-shirt and sweatpants as soon as she got home, letting her blonde hair remain in its matted, pixie cut shambles – complete with grease.

‘Oh well’ she thought ‘don’t gotta impress folks when you live alone, right.’

She could barely move, in large part thanks to her recently concluded waiting shift at Mr. Moogies Family Restaurant – her second twelver that week. Maddie had called out sick, so when Mr. Stone demanded she stay she agreed without much fuss. Not that it bought his good graces. Not even an hour later he went right back to yelling at her, this time for not leaving the top button of her work uniform undone like he’d asked...again.

“Fuck him!” she thought in a sudden burst of fury. She was used to her customers staring, but she didn’t have to take that shit from him. Still, he ended up taking her tips as punishment. Probably illegal, but who was going to believe her? After all he was sooooo important and she was, well…

Her lungs tugged a long, deep breath, her chest tightening, her heart racing more than it should when resting. It was the anxiety again. That must he what kept her up. At least she figured it was. She hadn’t been to a doctor in two years. No insurance.

She was attractive, though, and that had to count for something. Enough hands had groped her ass to prove there was at least some interest. If she were honest, though, she never felt attractive, even when dressed up (which was almost never). How long had it been since her last date, much less a steady boyfriend? Not like that ever helped her self-esteem either. Even with Brad the most she could get out of him was that she was “approachable”. What the fuck did that even mean!?

“You’re just not worth it” the little voice in her head said “No one can really love you because they can see you. They could always see you. Your lack of confidence, your weakness. To them you’re just another bimbo waiting to be taken advantage of, another sex toy – and you know what? They’re right.”

Desperate to drown the voices, her free hand wiggled it’s way underneath the elastic hem of her pants, navigating downwards until her finger tips finally found her clit. She teased it for a moment, just a flick here and there, but it didn’t do much to excite her. Not much of anything excited her anymore.

Except...

‘No, I shouldn’t’ she thought ‘I have a shift in the morning and I really, REALLY don’t want to have to clean the apartment again.’

Still, almost on it’s own, her head tipped right and immediately she sees it. She couldn’t remember putting it there – then again she could barely remember anything when it came to that...thing. All it ever left her were flashes, sometimes just feelings, or rather the shadow of them. Sitting on the bedside table was a plain wooden mask, shabby like driftwood with two eyes and a mouth hole frozen in a grotesque, perpetual scream. The only other distinguishing feature besides it’s dull green hue was the bolted bronze fixture along the median where a nose might be.

Her eyes remained listless, but she could feel her cheeks flush. It became too much, her little addiction. She’d already worn it the night before, and twice the night before that. She could still remember the salty taste on her lips from her last little dalliance. Instinctively she licked them, and felt the soft pulse of the blood rushing to her loins.

It wasn’t so much the hot body it gave her, or even the outfits (though they definitely helped), it was the freedom. The freedom from consequence, the freedom from control. Whenever she walked into a room wearing that mask all eyes turned to her, hungry for her sensuous company. She could stop any man she wanted from touching her if she didn’t want it, and when she did...oh when she did the passionate fucking they would do. Man or woman, didn’t matter. She just had that effect on people.

At least when she was her...

Her fingertips reached out and touched the wood. It was smooth – smoother than it looked. The vertical grooves seemed to guide her hand, bringing it to the chin which she pinches and pulls up, lifting the whole thing off the table in one smooth motion.

“I need to be her” she told herself, holding it at arms length above her face “just for a little while...”

She lowered it, inch by inch. The inside shimmered with a hypnotic green light, but only for an instant.

“Just for a bit...”

She placed it gently against her features, carefully lining the eye and mouth holes to their corresponding features. For a brief, pregnant moment it sat there, a curved plank of rotting wood laying fitted across her round face. Suddenly, inside of the mask flashed green again, brighter this time, and with an audible snap the edges latched to sides of her head like a vice grip.

Amy barely had time to gasp before that first injection of wondrous magical energy shot into her eyes and mouth surging with lightning fast speed through her veins. In seconds it faded, but a slight sizzle remained. Just a teaser.

“Oooohh baby, give it to me” she whimpered just as the second wave hit, seizing her muscles. She knew what was coming. Nothing could stop it, all she could do was brace herself but she knew it wouldn’t be enough.

“NNNNGGGAAAHHHH!!!”

Her brain flared as raw power forced it’s way into her quivering flesh, bursting forth, wrapping her in wispy, crackling swirls of crackling, incandescent green. The wood of the mask melted, muffling her cries, slithering along the sides of her face eager to get a better hold. She could feel the hot mush fusing with her skin, molding firmly to her features. A sudden spasm made her back arch and fists clench, and in another flash of green her mind whited out. In her quickly altering consciousness the only thing that registered was the feeling of her waist constricting and her ass and breasts ballooning to cartoonish sizes. Her shirt and sweatpants burst apart, leaving her naked for a moment before reforming into a tight, yellow, thigh-high tube dress – her real uniform. For a moment it felt like she was floating in the air, but as the green energy quickly faded gravity reasserted itself and she was dumped with an unceremonious thwump back on top of her bed.

She smiled. The Mask was back, baby!

“A night on the town is nice and all” she said, her voice rumbling deep with a sensual timbre “but I think we’re just gonna stay in for the night.” her hands, like spiders, tiptoed up and down along her sides “Have a bit of me time.”

Her left hand wormed its way under the top of her dress and started kneading her firm, engorged breasts. Deeper and deeper they explored, the fabric pressing her palm tight enough against her sensitive nipples to make her eyes roll back. Her plump, ruby red lips parted, releasing a deep, sensual moan into the still evening air.

“More” she whimpered “I need more.”

Her right hand yanked back the bottom of her dress, revealing her naked pussy sticky and glistening with fresh arousal. She shoved her fingers into herself, immediately coating them in the slimy discharge, which only made her ferocious finger-fucking that much smoother. With her thumb she rubbed furious, tiny circles into her clit. The warmth came faster than expected, but she couldn’t stop now. With each wave she let out a cry, imagining the tight embrace of the mask on her face like a lover. Her body squirmed, twisting the sheets beneath her, their rustling a testament to her glorious self-love.

“Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK--”

Her body flailed about on her bed, her shoulders and face scrunching as she felt the squeezing pulsations of her pelvis constrict around her fingers still embedded deep inside of her. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her lips opened in a wordless scream. Her limbs crumpled, her toes curled, and the mask tightened rhythmically over and over on her face. Her veins burned with the unholy fire of her sex, and for what seemed like hours her whole body shuddered in rapturous ecstasy. Once she could finally breath again, she let out a long, throaty chuckle and let her sweat soaked arms splay out off the sides of her bed. For the time being, she was released.

“Thanks, hon” she panted “I needed that.”

For a moment she simply laid there, basking in the sweet, blooming afterglow, debating whether or not to go again. The intoxication of the mask faded, but she knew it’d be back if she left it on any longer. Reaching across her face with her free hand she fumbled with where the mask ended under her chin, and with a sharp tug pulled. Instead of giving way her rubbery face just stretched like thick putty.

“Shit...”

She tugged again, but the mask remained fixed. Another tug and she gave up, already feeling the noxious influence of her rubbery little parasite seep into her brain again. Her hand danced across her tight, sinewy skin and she knew she was lost. She couldn’t even remember why she’d put it on in the first place. Still, deep inside her fevered mind she felt a gnawing doubt. Normally after cumming she could pull it right off with a bit of elbow grease, if not then when the sun came up.

“It can’t stay on my face ‘til then.” she said, her green face already flushing with heat “I mean it has to come off eventually, right?”

She barely noticed her fingers slipping and pressing back inside of her.

“Righ—oooohhhhhh...”