F Wilson - Sibs

But you're getting stronger. And when you are this close to your real body, it is easy to stimulate and control the almost reflexive actions of chewing and swallowing while maintaining control over Kara. You spoon the junior meal into your toothless mouth. Although you can't taste it (thank goodness) you know the nutrients, flowing into your body from this lumpy gruel will make you stronger.

But although everything has gone according to plan, all is far from perfect. Difficult days lie ahead. Kara has a daughter, plus she's been having an affair with Detective Harris. The detective will be easy to be rid of. All you need do is find another lover and let Harris know that he has been replaced in your heart. It may prove messy for a while, but eventually that should serve to sever all ties with him. Although you would love to see him as dead as Lazlo, you will have to be satisfied with merely breaking his heart instead of shoving a knife blade through it.

The child, though, presents a major problem. You will not be able to fool her for long. She will never guess exactly what is wrong with her mother, but she will know she is not the same. She will sniff you out and raise a cry.

Something must be done about the child.

An accident. That is the best way. A terrible accident. A fall, perhaps. Like her Aunt Kelly. These Wades— such an accident-prone family.

Suddenly Kara's mind is shouting, startling you.

You can't do this! It's unconscionable! Your own brother, and now me! How can you live with yourself?

You've wondered that yourself at times. And whenever you do, you look down at your misshapen body and consider the alternative. And you know you do not want to live there.

You do not answer her. You are concerned with the strength she is showing. You could feel her fighting for control of her hands as they changed your diaper. One or two times she almost drew them away. This concerns you. Not that she'd ever be able to wrest control back from you, but it takes more effort to control her than it did Lazlo. She's much stronger willed than he ever was. Luckily, she doesn't know her own strength. And to assure that she doesn't get an opportunity to find out, she will have to be housebroken quickly.

You have an idea. When the feeding is finished and your bath is done, you'll start her first lesson.

▼

Rob sat on the floor of the padded cell, numb and drained by what he had read in the scraps of paper scattered across his legs.

Madness. Pure madness.

But strangely coherent madness.

Maybe that was because the author was so convinced that he was Lazlo Gati, whose body had been usurped by his twin brother Gabor during their teenage years and never returned to him except, for brief periods during which he managed to write this diary of sorts. According to this diary, Lazlo was locked in this padded cell during those periods of freedom while Gabor frolicked in other bodies, mostly female.

Utterly crazy. But who was this crazy man? Where was he now? That was the scary part. His last entry was three nights ago… when Lazlo was still alive. That was the disturbing part: there had been no entries since Lazlo's death.

Rob stood and tried to shake off the crazy story. He smiled. Here he was, sitting in a padded cell, trying to make sense of the ravings of a certifiable nut case. There was a major flaw in the story: Gabor Gati had been dead for years. His death certificate was on file downtown…

… signed by Lazlo.

He shook himself. It all seemed weirdly logical—if you could accept the premise that Gabor was still alive and.could actually control another person's body.

But if he was alive, where would he be?

In the Chelsea house, of course.

Rob felt spicules of ice forming in his blood.

Lazlo Gati—or Dr. Gates, or whoever the hell he was—had left everything to Kara. And one of the terms of the will had been that she be given the keys to the Chelsea house immediately.

Christ!

And Rob had left her there alone. He wondered if her sudden illness had anything to do with Gabor? Or if—?

What am I saying? Get a grip, Harris!

He stood in the center of the padded cell and took a few deep breaths. It was late, he was tired, and his imagination was having a field day. Kara was at Ellen's. He'd go home himself, get some sleep, and see Kara first thing in the morning to make sure she was all right.

To make sure she was still Kara.

▼

1:35 A.M.

She was in a cab going east on 42nd Street. Kara huddled sick and miserable, limbless and voiceless within her own body, searching for a way out.

"Lazlo died right over there," Gabor told her, pointing out the window with her finger.

Is that why you brought me here?

"Of course not."

Then why am I naked under this coat? It's too cold for this sort of thing.

"I've already told you twice: Your taste in clothes is terrible. I'm going to have to buy us a whole new wardrobe. Something with style."

Kara prayed that was the truth, but she feared he had something else in mind. Something awful.

You won't find anything open at this hour.

"We're not looking for clothes now."

Then what—?

"Patience, my dear."

He told the cabbie to pull to the curb and wait, then stepped out onto the sidewalk. She felt the wind run icy fingers up the insides of her thighs... Where are we going?

"Straight ahead."

They were walking toward a brightly lit store. Yellow and white incandescent bulbs strobed deliriously in its smudged and smeared show window, their light racing madly around its border. A neon sign blinked "ADULT BOOKS" in turquoise while another blared "PEEP SHOW" in red.

You're taking me there?

"Yes. Have you ever been in one?"

Never!

"Then this will be a new experience for you."

Inside the door was a square room, its walls lined floor to ceiling with porno magazines—men with women, women with women, men with men. To the rear was a curtained arch, keystoned with a sign that said, "PEEPS." A narrow platform ran across the front of the store, supporting a glass display case and a cash register. Behind the case stood a portly, short, balding, middle-aged man wearing a greasy Guns n'Roses T-shirt and a two-day stubble. There were two male customers in the store who quickly headed for the back when they saw her.

The man on the platform leaned over the display case and looked down at her.

"Can I help yiz, lady?" he said in a voice like a chain saw.

"I'm looking for a tool," Kara's voice said as she stared into the dusty display case.

Lined up on the shelves behind the glass were a good two dozen different models of vibrators and dildos.

You're not serious!

"Hush. I'm choosing."

"Why fool with a tool when you can have the real thing?" the counterman said, leering through his stubble.

"How about yours? Is your tool available?"

His smile broadened. "Anytime!"

"Interesting. However, I believe I'll take that one there."

Kara watched in horror as her finger pointed to a twelve inch pink vibrator formed in the shape of an erect penis. Gabor could only be buying it for one reason. It made her sick to think about it.

No!

The counterman took it out, wrapped it up after it was paid for, and handed her the package with a lascivious smile.

"Batteries not included."

"Quite all right. I have plenty at home."

"Okay. But if dis don't work, come back an' I'll show you da real ting."

"I just might take you up on that."

You wouldn't! Kara said as they exited the store.

"I might. Just to teach you a lesson if you prove bad company for me."

But he's dirty and ugly and probably crawling with diseases!

"Probably. But I can always replace you should you become debilitated by disease."