Trish decides to hop into one of the skins

Jessica makes faces in the mirror. She rolls her eyes, sticks her tongue out, pouts and blows kisses. She shakes her head and giggles as her hair falls across her face in a messy blonde web. She cups her chin in fake surprise.

"Oh, look at me, I'm Jessica, aren't I so beautiful? Blurgh."

You give her a light shove on her shoulder. "That's still my girlfriend." You observe. Trish turns around, slowly, much more able to mimic Jessica than Jimmy. If anything this is more disconcerting: she seems to be having a lot of fun.

"You mean you haven't broken up with me? Oh, David, I thought you wanted my mother!" Jessica's body grabs you and squeezes. She's fully dressed - Trish insisted on you two 'idiots' leaving the room for her to get changed. You grapple under her hug, and she backs off, laughing. "Ha! This is awesome."

"Told you," Denise Hunt says from the door, combing her bob-cut hair with a brush Jimmy purloined from the bathroom. While Jessica was getting 'changed', Jimmy decided to slip into the only other skin available, and has been enjoying himself, it seems: while her skirt is on, Denise's blouse buttons are undone and her generous cleavage is exposed. She grips them with her painted nails. "You know, older women ain't bad at all either."

"Don't be a dick, Jimmy," Trish says, Jessica's expression one of disappointment.

"What?" Jimmy is all fake innocence.

"You're messed up is what. For starters, get dressed properly."

"What's the point? It's not actually my body, and we all know that."

"It's a respect thing," you offer, slumped on the bed, watching this strange pantomime unfold: your two friends wearing your girlfriend and her mother. Jessica turns to you and beams her pearl-white smile. The relaxed posture is all Trish - Jessica carries herself with far more class - but that smile is perfect. Jimmy stands on the door, one hand on his slightly filled hip, the other wagging at Trish.

"Don't you lecture me, young lady! I am your mother!" Neither of you find it funny. Trish just bows Jessica's head, raises an eyebrow, and looks a little disappointed. Jimmy, as usual, backs down.

"So," Trish-as-Jessica flops down next to you, nudging you as Trish would. "What's the plan with this? We can't just sit around in my room all day. For one thing, it's not my room anymore."

"I was thinking we go to the mall," Jimmy piped up. "That way we can pick and choose."

"What is it with you and this mall idea?" You ask. It's the second time he has brought it up.

"Uhm... I just think we might find some good candidates to be for a night. Think about it dudes." Mrs Hunt's body walks over and hops down on Jessica's bed, her easy familiarity at complete odds with the body of a 39-year-old woman. "Right now, I'm the only one of us who isn't a teenager. I can get into places that you can't."

"And you think the mall is the best place for new faces?" Jessica's lips sneer. "You really are a teenager. Think about the places we could go. I was going to see Analytical Engine tonight. They're a fucking cool band. Jessica likes them too. But with that little device, we could head over there early and get ourselves some backstage passes - even entry into the afterparty. We could party with Riley Lovelace... hell, I could be Riley Lovelace; she's fucking awesome. Just have to wait for her to finish her set, hide in her dressing room and shoot her. Or if that doesn't appeal, why not head to the basketball game tonight? No problem with front row tickets now. Still thinking small? We find head to one of the mansions in town and sample the lifestyles of the rich and famous for a bit. We could wing it with our parents we're on a camping trip or something. There's so many options. And you think of the fucking mall."

There's a noise downstairs, like a car pulling up. Jessica's eyes widen.

"Shit! Look at the time!" Jessica's fist punches you on the arm. "You should have said something! I hadn't realized how long I'd been messing around with this."

"What? You said your mom would be gone 'a while'."

"She was. We've been up here for 'a while'. Fuck. What the hell do we do?"

Denise Hunt stands, waving the black pen. "Oh, there's an easy solution for that, honey. You just wait here with David." At that, she virtually runs through the door, exposed bosom bouncing with each step.

"Oh no you don't! Not my fucking mother!" Trish, as Jessica, pounds after him. There's the sound of a door opening, some kind of scuffle, raised voices. Angry, raised voices, debating what to do.

Finally, Denise Hunt opens the door, a pile of skin and clothes in her hands. It looks exactly like Trish's mom, her shoulder-length locks hanging down across her face. "Hey dude, fancy being Alyson O'Neil for a bit?"

"Don't you fucking dare!" You hear Jessica's voice echo up the stairs. Moments later, she's standing in the room too. "You can't be my mom. I forbid it."

"What? Don't be such a hypocrite, Jessica." Denise Hunt scoffs. "Besides, aren't your sisters going to be back later? We can't stick around here goofing off, and David needs a new face."

"Just not my damn mother! David, I said no."

"He's got a point about me being the only one without a skin..." you chime in. You're not entirely sure the concept of being Alyson appeals, though. Being Denise was fun, but Alyson is a rather plain woman.

"Fine. We'll head out and get you one. To the concert, to the game, to a mansion. I don't care. Just... let's reinflate her, or whatever it's called; if you don't my sisters are going to wonder where the hell she is anyway. So return her to normal and let's get out of here."

"Or," Denise Hunt's body shrugs, "slip her on and we can still do all of that. Just leave a note or something. Come on, dude, it will be fun."