Blackout - A She-Mask Story

For nearly three hours, Lucy sat on the floor of her small, dingy bathroom, naked as the day she was born. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her shins, pulling her knees into her breasts, while her feet sat flat and shivering on the cold, clammy tile. The tub’s slick fiberglass dug into her back, and behind her, a thunderous cascade of water sputtered continuously from the shower head, thickening the air with moisture. A moisture which fed the clusters of mold which had been allowed to grow unabated on the shower curtain and walls. That was fine, though. All of it was fine. In fact, she wanted it. Every morsel. Sights. Sounds. Smells. Pain. Whatever she could scrounge to distract herself from the thing on the floor across from her.

She tried not to look at it. The mask hewn from polished driftwood. It took every ounce of her willpower to fix her gaze on literally anything else. A specific tile, the calcium-caked pipe under the sink. Still, the hunger always won. Her sight would drift until, finally, it would brush against it and, just like that, her heart would flutter, and she’d know right then and there that she was going to wear it. It was undeniable. Like gravity. The only question was when.

Lucy didn’t know why she resisted. It was probably an ego thing; some part of her that still loathed her ease of surrender. Or it might have been fear. Her mother would have said guilt, of course. Guilt for the pleasure. Stupid, Lucy thought, the pleasure is the only thing that makes it bearable. The most frightening reason, though, was that maybe she wasn’t resisting at all. Maybe this was a part of it. A kind of edging where the release was inversely proportional to the wait. It made sense, though she wouldn’t admit it. Even now, wracked and trembling, she had already lost control.

Her phone buzzed. Instantly, Lucy lunged, pawing for it where it laid four feet away and, once she was back in her curled position, held the screen right up to her face. The notification said it all. It was Hinge. She had a match.

His name was Zack, and if there was a bingo for basic, this man would cover the whole card. There was of course the classic fish pic, where he stood by a lakeside holding aloft his mediocre catch, eyes bright, smile brighter, hair dirty blonde and cropped short. A real golden retriever type. Other highlights included declarations that he was an “extroverted introvert” and “loved adventures.” Still, Lucy scrolled up and down through his profile, lingering on one pic, then another. On each one she imagined being at his side, smiling and side-hugging. The thought made her lips curl into a half-smile.

Then she read his message:

“hey”

Her smile vanished. Oh boy, a voice in her head purred in dulcet tones, you really bagged a winner there. I wonder what other bits of scintillating conversation he’ll offer.

“Shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP!” Lucy commanded. “No! Stop!”

Lucy tapped quickly, not pausing to give herself time to think.

“Hey to you too, cutie! Wanna grab a drink tonight? Maybe more?” She had the wherewithal to delete the winky face she’d added at the end.

Oh my God! a voice sneered. Have a whiff of the desperation on this whore!

Lucy clenched her teeth and breathed out hard. At the end of the breath, her eyes flicked towards the mask again, then closed. “Let me have this. Let me have this...”

She opened her eyes. He hadn’t replied. There weren’t even the three dots to tell her he was typing.

“Come on...come on...”

She pulled the phone closer, crowding out any view that wasn’t the screen, and carefully wiped the stray droplets which the shower had sprayed onto it. Opening her own profile, she scrolled up and down and up and down. One pic showed her laughing in a kayak, while in another her arms were draped over her friends' shoulders as they sat side by side at a table. Lucy forgot where they were. Probably a brewery or something. The last pic was from her graduation. Her hair was long and black back then, her smile wide, eyes innocent and eager.

Wonder what he’ll say when he finds out you don’t look like that anymore? said the voice. I bet there’s not a single picture of you that’s less than three years old.

Lucy locked her phone and was immediately confronted with a dim reflection staring back at her from the blackened glass. This Lucy’s hair was buzzed nearly to the skin. Makes it easier for it to latch on to, she thought, running her hand across her skull. Sometimes it even feels like I’m still wearing it. Her eyes hung leaden in deep sockets, etched with bags and lines of exhaustion that suggested far more than lack of sleep. A vision of emaciation that the rest of her body shared.

Her bottom lip trembled. Her expression twisted, tears forming. Suddenly, with an animal scream, she chucked her phone across the room, where it landed with a crack and a clatter right next to the wooden mask. Lucy’s breath caught at the sight of it. All at once the yearning swelled. A bubbling cauldron roiling up from her belly. Its steam clouded her brain, heating her extremities, making them fidgety and restless.

It’s time, she thought. It’s time. It’s time! She unwrapped her arms, then let her legs unfurl. The moment is here! The moment SHE emerges. Put on her face, Lucy. Put on her face and let it swallow you whole.

Lucy didn’t even notice that she was crawling until she was already halfway across the room. Reaching out, she slipped her fingers in the mask’s eye holes. She didn’t touch it, though. Not yet. Her hand just hovered there, steady as she could manage, like a twisted game of Operation. She knew that once her skin touched it, that was it. She was gone.

“Who are you kidding?” she mumbled. “You’re already gone.”

She grabbed the mask. As soon as her fingers made contact it was like an electric current had been established, erasing all aches and weariness instantly. But Lucy wasn’t fooled. She knew this wasn’t altruism on the mask’s part. It was assurance. A promise from a parasite to its host that ‘yes, there’s plenty more where that came from.’

Lucy rose to her knees and lifted the mask, holding the artifact face to face. Its expression was frozen in a state of alarm, and a studded bronze strip ran along its median from the top all the way to where a nose would have been. Like a needle on a record, Lucy ran her thumb along one of the many grooves etched vertically along its rough surface.

Now you get it, the voice said. I am and always will be the only lover you will ever need. The edge of the mask’s mouth seemed to twitch, like it was trying to smile. And we will always need you.

Tears poured down Lucy’s face, and she cry-heaved, smiling, drawing the mask’s face closer. “God, why do I always wait so long?” Her eyes closed as her lips met the mouth hole of the mask, and her tongue slipped through. Wave after wave of oral contact pressed against the facial facsimile, and with each one the current of energy surged.

“Yes,” she sighed between kisses. “Yes.”

Lucy drew her head away slowly, then opened her eyes. The mask’s expression is unchanged, but its dull brown hue had taken on a green luster. She turned the mask about, and a rainbow shimmer flashed in the smooth rear cavity, calling for her to surrender her face.

Gladly, she complied.

A full foot away the mask began to tremble, and what was once hard wood began to soften in her hands. Usually by now Lucy let it leap onto her, and she knew that if she let go now it would, but that’s not what she wanted. She wanted to tease, just a little bit. One last vain attempt to assert control. Any control. Holding it now felt like trying to keep a strong magnet away. An unnatural resistance to a fundamental force. Still, Lucy did her best to ease it on until, finally, her nose met the inside.

That’s when the trap sprang.

Abandoning all pretense, the mask suctioned to her face with a schlurp, and the curved sides clamped hard to the sides of her head. Vibrations became undulations – violent ones – and with nowhere for the energy to go, the edges of the mask dissolved, bursting into tendrils which whipped and lashed before wrapping greedily around the back of Lucy’s head. Her breathing grew shallow, punctuated by little gasps and whimpers. The tendrils merged into one great mass of taffy-wood, pulsing with a heartbeat against its captive’s skull.

Lucy moaned, throwing her body backwards, writhing on the tile. Her hands feebly clawed at the wriggling mass. It was entering her. Every breath seemed to welcome more and more of it in, and every squeeze seemed to pump her blood with sparkles. Just as her body felt just about to burst with it, the world went silent, and the voice in her head whispered:

Time to become God.

The mask contracted, and Lucy screamed, eyes rolling. Her chest thrust into the air as her breasts ballooned, and her waist cinched, crushed by an invisible corset.

“Give it to me,” Lucy mewled in prayer. “Give it to me. Give it to me. Give it to me.”

Strength filled out her limbs. She scrambled to her feet, wobbling the whole way, clutching the edge of the sink until her eyes finally found the mirror. The mask had taken on a vibrant, lime green hue, its texture rubbery smooth with only small patches of wood remaining. Her brow was more pronounced too, and her cheeks and chin were sharper. Massive, pearly-white teeth stuck out from behind thick, ruby lips, and while her eyes were still Lucy’s, they were unfocused, swimming with cosmic delirium. Taking one hand off the sink, she worked her fingers along the mask’s seam just under her jaw, down her neck, and along her breast and flank. When they reached her ass, it expanded under her touch, and she squeezed. The flesh was soft and supple, and a shuddering sigh escaped her lips.

“Yes, that’s it.”

She closed her eyes, basking in the moment…

...

...then her eyes snapped open, and her hands flew up to clutch her head. Something was wrong. Something was forcing its way in...or maybe out?

“No no no no no, not again” Lucy hissed through gritted teeth. “Stay out stay out stay out! Let me have this. Let me have this. Let me–”

Another jolt shoved its way through her, making her whole body rigid. She stared hard into the wide eyes looking back at her from the mirror. One was still hers, brown and frightened, but the other had grown larger by half, iris bleeding crimson and overflowing with malice. Lucy watched in real time as her brown eye slowly morphed to match the other, but didn’t see it finish. A warmth quickly bloomed in her pelvis, and her eyes went cross. Like before, the feeling traveled up through her torso and out into her limbs, and once it reached her brain, her eyes fluttered shut and her jaw dropped. She moaned, then groaned, then screamed, chest heaving, hands pawing at the sides of her head. The seed of warmth exploded. Her consciousness dissolved in a sea of pleasure, and all at once, she blacked out…

X    X    X

Lucy woke up on her back, naked and stiff, twisted in her bed sheets. She peered out from under her groggy lids at the popcorn ceiling of her studio apartment, then turned her head to face her window, where the fullness of late morning poured through the bent and broken blinds. As she adjusted herself, she noticed was a soreness in her nethers, then a wetness. Raising her head off the pillow slightly, she reached down to her slit, and sure enough a thick drivel of cum was pouring out of her, soaking the bedding.

Lucy sighed, then let her head flop back down. The impact on the pillow made the sides puff, sending an object into the air before it landed against the side of her face. When she felt the wood texture, she bolted upright, spinning about and twisting the sheets even more. The visage of the mask stared up at her, as rigid and ghastly as ever.

Lucy’s heartbeat raced. Then she closed her eyes and collected herself.

It’s daytime, she thought, it can’t get you during the day.

She sat cross legged on the bed and picked up the mask, holding it loosely in her hands as she turned it about.

“Not even gonna let me remember, huh?” she murmured. The mask answered with silence. Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

With a casual toss, she threw the mask over her shoulder and off the side of the bed, where it landed on the scuffed wood floor with a clatter. At least that’s what it normally would have done. Instead, it hit something soft, and that something made a noise.

“Ow!”

Lucy’s launched to her feet, eyes wide, clutching her arms tightly under her breasts. She waited a full minute, but when nothing else happened she ventured to hope that maybe she’d imagined it.

Then she heard a moan.

No doubt about it. There was a man on the floor, and that man was waking up.

Lucy scurried to the bathroom, slammed and locked the door behind her, then backed away. Once her heels bumped against the tub, she stopped and stayed still, holding her breath. The floor creaked as the man rose, then paced around the room. Lucy bit her lip, trying to will him to leave. Instead, the creaking drew closer, and as it reached the bathroom Lucy squeezed her arms tighter.

He knocked. “Hey, you in there?”

Lucy, trembling, didn’t answer.

He tried the handle. “Come on, I need to go.”

“She’s not here anymore,” Lucy blurted out. Her hands flew up and clasped over her mouth.

There was a pause.

“Wait...wait, hold on...You’re not her, are you?”

“W-who?”

“The green-headed woman.”

“N-no, she’s m...my roommate.”

For a moment, Lucy thought this would be enough for him to leave, but Lucy looked under the door and still saw his shadow.

“Well, there’s only one bed,” he said, laughing. “Where the fuck do you sleep?”

He still thinks you’re her, Lucy thought.

“We split the time. She gets the weekend, and I get the weekdays. Actually, you just missed her.”

Lucy heard the wood groan as the man shifted his stance. He sighed. “Jesus Christ.” He smacked his lips. “Well, can I at least use the bathroom before I go?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I...I don’t have any clothes and...” Lucy took a deep breath, “...and I don’t think you do either.”

There was a beat, then man laughed softly. “I can put some pants on if you want.”

Before Lucy could agree, he walked off, and Lucy heard the rustle of clothes and the clink of a belt buckle. He ambled back towards the door.

“Welp, I’m wearing pants, so you can come out now.”

Lucy’s mouth twitched into an involuntary smile. “I think you forgot something.”

The man smacked his head with his palm. Or at least it sounded like it. “Oh, yeah, that’s right.” The tone of his voice suggested he very much hadn’t forgotten. He walked away again and after a bit more rustling and returned. “Open up a bit so I can hand you these.”

Lucy positioned her body against the door, then turned the knob and slowly pulled it open. When the man’s arm shot in, Lucy thought he was forcing the door open, but he simply held it there, extended. In his grip was a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. No underwear, though.

“Sorry if it doesn’t match,” the man said. “There’s a lot out here. Didn’t really know what was dirty or not.”

Lucy snatched them, and as soon as the man’s arm retreated, she shoved the door closed and slipped them on.

“Thanks,” she said.

She looked herself over in the mirror. Her sunken cheeks seemed more pronounced, and the shadow around her eyes had somehow deepened. Despite not remembering it, she knew her body was running on dangerously little sleep. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, then walked to the door and pulled it open with as much confidence as she could muster.

As soon as she saw the man, she instantly knew who he was.

“Zack...”

Zack’s eyes narrowed and he smiled. “Yes?”

Lucy’s breath caught. “She told me your name. Mentioned it, I mean.” She looked away and smiled ruefully. “Said you were really great.”

“Really?” Zack nodded his head. “Hmm...”

The two switched places, him in the bathroom, and Lucy out. When he closed the door behind him, Lucy sat on the edge of the bed, planting her chin on her palms. The sound of his piss stream reverberated through the thin walls. When the door opened again, Zack strode out, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He immediately made a beeline for the other side of the bed, digging through a pile of clothes.

“What’s this?”

Lucy half turned to face him, and when he rose up, her heart dropped. He was holding the mask.

“That’s not mine," she said, "that’s, uh...hers.”

Zack turned it about, giving it a casual once over. “Huh...” He tossed it onto the bed and made for the front door. Lucy eyed him surreptitiously as he hopped around, clumsily slipping on a pair of vans. Before stepping out the front door he stopped. “Hey uh...” he looked at Lucy out of the corner of his eye, “...could you tell her she was really great too?”

Lucy swallowed. “Yeah...Yeah, I’ll be sure and do that.”

Zack nodded. “Thanks.” He started to move, but stopped again, then turned to fully face Lucy. His mouth hung open and he pointed at her.

“But I have seen you somewhere before, right?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, no I...I would have remembered.”

The side of Zack’s mouth turned up. “All right, well,” he gave a little wave, “bye.”

“Bye,” Lucy whispered, barely audible.

And with that, he was gone.

The ceiling fan above Lucy’s head spun lazily, keeping time with the percussive beat of its uneven oscillations. The sound of the city leaked through the poorly soundproofed windows, a constant reminder of reality reasserting itself. Lucy thought about chasing after Zack, even going as far as walking over to the front door and leaning against it, but when the opportunity finally passed, she went back to her bedside and sat down, moaning as she buried her face in her hands.

Without looking or thinking, she pawed for where her phone usually was and, to her surprise, found it there. When she unlocked it, the notes app was open along with a message:

Check your photos. XOXO.

Lucy did as instructed and found more or less what she expected.

Selfie after selfie from the night before, each featuring her green-masked face contorted in myriad visages of ecstasy. No two were the same. In one she stood in the middle of a crowded dance floor giving a kissy face while holding up a peace sign. In another a torrent of alcohol poured onto her skull, dribbling down her face and onto the black, full body latex catsuit she wore. In another her breasts hung out as she viscerally snogged a woman, while a man at the bottom of the frame had his head buried between her thighs. Lucy kept swiping and swiping, faster and faster. There were hundreds of them, though how much exactly she couldn’t be sure. Lucy didn’t bother counting.

When she reached the end, she found that the most recent picture wasn’t even a picture. It was a video. It opened with her masked self-obscuring the image as she finished setting up the camera on a tripod. Lucy could hear her shuddering breaths.

“I thought I’d leave you a little treat, Lucy-dear,” the masked woman whispered intimately. “Just so you know what you’re missing.”

She stood up and hop-stepped back, revealing both her bed and Zack laying naked on top of it. The Mask then slowly stripped her cat-suit, swaying sensuously, but Lucy didn’t focus on that. Instead, her focus was on Zack whose head craned from its prone position, bewildered and gawking. Lucy recognized that look. It was the look of a man so unbelieving of his luck that he couldn’t help but stare for fear that looking away would cause the object of his desire to vanish. Once fully bare, the Mask crawled onto the mattress, and with a high-arching kick, mounted her prey and wasted no time in pressing her body and lips down on him.

Lucy watched the whole thing. All 48 minutes of it. Every once in a while, after a pleasure-wrenched moan or an especially potent thrust, the Mask glanced at the lens, right into the eyes of her voyeuristic host, daring her to look away. When it was all done, Zack tumbled unconscious off the side of the bed and onto the floor, exactly where he laid barely an hour ago. The Mask, with total control and grace, took a moment to stretch and pose, showing off every rivulet of cum on her perfect skin. The streaks and rivers wound along her contours, glistening in the dim light of the room’s single bulb. Lucy was about to stop the video when the Mask leapt off the bed and zoomed towards the camera, seemingly sensing her intention.

“Now I know you must be jealous, but let’s be real, we both know you were never gonna message him.” The Mask flashed her chompers, eyes smoldering with mischief. “Hope you didn’t blow your shot this morning.” She reached delicately for the phone, then paused. “’til next time my love.”

With that, the video ended.

Lucy stared at that final frozen frame, the Mask’s words echoing in her mind. She opened Hinge and, sure enough, Zack had been unmatched. That left only the question. The one that always came the morning after.

“What now?”

She didn’t need a job. The Mask made sure of that, leaving just enough in her bank account to maintain her present ‘living standard.’ What friends she had were long alienated, either by her erratic moods or simply due to absence.

Truth was, Lucy already knew the answer. Sitting back against her headboard, she set her phone against some bunched up blankets and played the video again. She watched for a moment, still as a monk, but once the sex started, she grabbed the mask laying nearby and placed it carefully on her face. Nothing happened, of course, but Lucy always had a rich imagination. Since it wouldn’t hold in place on its own, she held it there with one hand, and with her other she slipped her fingers underneath the hem of her shorts and began to rub. She did this the whole way through. All 48 minutes. She even came a few times.

Eventually, though, her body was spent. Her withering, frail, human body. Summing up the last of her strength she bunched up her soiled sheets, stuffed them in the closet, pulled out a fresh set and lazily laid them out on top of her mattress before falling onto them herself. Splayed on her back, she stared listlessly at the ceiling, watching the fan spin and spin and spin and spin. She felt nothing, only a vague seed of anticipation germinating in her chest. The countdown had begun again. All she had to do was wait.