Chapter Three: The Second Mask (Part 2)

His scalp went first. It itched.

The itch burrowed in from the roots of his hair, as if countless thin fingers were dragging his short hair, one strand at a time, down into the latex. With every lock pulled under, the membrane wrapped his scalp a little tighter—warm, sticky—and when it finished it gave a gentle suck that made his whole scalp tingle. He raised a hand to touch it and felt his hair going soft, going sticky, swallowed into the black lock by lock. In the mirror, the head on the right was turning smooth and bare, even glossier than Elena's—glossy as if freshly brushed with black lacquer, the highlight on his crown pooling into a round patch of white.

So glossy. Glossy like the hoods in his album that sealed off every feature. But when he looked into the mirror, the outline of his eyes was still there on his face, the curve of his lips still there, the fangs still showing. Almost, he thought. But not quite. The ones in the album that made him hardest were the ones with even the eyes and mouth sealed shut, nothing left but a smooth layer of black with no expression at all. His were still showing. Too bad.

When that too bad popped into his head, it startled even him. He was actually disappointed that he wasn't changing completely enough.

Elena stared at the glossy patch for two seconds, then glanced down at her own bare, shining crown. She raised her left hand, pressed her palm to the back of her own head, and rubbed it slowly from back to front until she reached the little horns at her temples, gripped one, and gave it a gentle twist. Her right hand never stopped, though—over and over it stroked his scalp, his cheek, the jawline that was taking shape, her claw-tips drawing fine bright lines across the latex.

"So smooth..." she murmured, almost panting. "Babe, your head... it feels even slicker than mine. I can't stop touching it."

Then came the horns.

Both sides of his forehead went hot and swollen at once, something hard pushing outward from the bone. It wasn't simply pain; it was pressure, a swelling that made his eyes burn and made him want to cry out. The latex split open a crack just in time, then immediately wrapped the hard thing again, shaping it into two smooth horns that curved backward. He hissed. Elena rose onto her toes, her left hand still holding her own little horn, her right already wrapped around the one arching out of him, rubbing and stroking it from root to tip as if she were stroking something else entirely.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, though her voice was nothing but excitement.

"It's swelling... it's so weird... more..."

"More?" Her eyes lit up. Her long tongue slipped out, licked first across her own lower lip, then curled once around the root of his horn—latex tongue on latex, a sticky squeak, pulling a fine thread. "You said more all by yourself. Such a good babe. Once you're done swelling, you'll be even sluttier."

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