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Summary

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I had gotten up early, now I am tired. Dead beat. (Why did I even have to go up, at two in the morning?)

It is late; just five minutes before midnight, after a very long and tiring day. (Why did I stay up this late? I hate to stay up late, and particularly after the sun has set.)

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I am sitting by the mirror on my bed room, with the mask before me. (She is so incredibly cute and adorable, I just could not refuse her.)

It feels: as if the mask (hood) had been a Girl, and now she is looking at me with her large soulful eyes; as if pleading for me to permit her to come to life, by slipping the mask on. (Whatever gave me the idea? Wherever could I possibly have dreamt up this absurd notion? Yet; it is how I feel, all the same!) There is no going back, my mind is made up and I am going through with this. (Even at this late hour, and I barely know my name.)

I lift her up (the Mask) and gently pull her down over my head. I feel the liquid elasticity, as the silicone is stretching in order to permit the mask to encompass my head in the process. Inch by inch, the mask slowly swallows my head. It is hard to breathe, while the ultra-tight mask is sliding over my face; but I do not stop, let alone try to turn back. (Could I suffocate, if I was too slow; in slipping the mask on?)

Still, I persist. (File A)

I feel weird; as my sleep-deprived mind is reacting to the sensations I am exposed to, in the process. No thought, to be challenged; I am simply pulling the mask on, just before I will be falling asleep.

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After a moment, I feel the mask finally slip into place; I can once more breathe, unhindered. (Air flowing into my lungs, as I am breathing hard and fast.)

As I am once more looking at the mirror, I can clearly see my face; her face, as she is gazing into my eyes. (As if she sees me, for the very first time; yet is recognizing me. {Who is she?})

After gazing at her, gazing into her eyes for a moment longer; I am breaking of my eye-contact with her, before I am pushing the chair back and raise to my feet. (I could as well break off the eye-contact now, as I raise to my feet; I will have to, before I could go to bed, as I simply can not sleep sitting in this chair.)

Once I am standing up, I pick up the glove; slipping my right hand into it, pulling it all the way up. I am repeating the process, slipping my left hand into the remaining glove; thus regaining the symmetry, of two equal and opposite hands. (I now have two small hands, of a little girl; even if my hands have suction-cups, highly sensitive touch-pads and long and elegant nails of a Lady.) I had selected these by myself, (or, maybe it is she who had chosen them?)

If I am stopping, to think about it; I feel weird, and this would have been the case, even if I had not been tired and sleep deprived.

The Mask, and the Gloves are part of the same Character, Person. How could I have chosen parts of different people? The dissonance would have been Murder. (Figuratively speaking!!) It isn’t, as if I had been killing anyone, no little Girl had died in order for me to have this Mask, in the first place. (I just had to put this up there, just in case; in order to avoid any future misunderstanding with all the unfortunate and very distasteful consequences to follow suit.)

I had chosen a pair of stockings too: full-length toe-stockings; as this is an image. While I am wearing these, I will be appearing much younger, than I had been as late as the day before. (I just have to wear something, hiding the skin of my old{er} body, in order to maintain the image I had chosen to project.)

I am picking up the right stocking, lifting up the corresponding foot and slipping it into the garment; before I am pulling it all the way up, then placing the foot back onto the floor. I repeat the process of slipping the left foot into the second stocking.

With the image completed, I am looking critically at myself; moving, in order to ascertain that it looks genuine. (If it looks wrong, the deception would be obvious and thus fail; I simply could not have that, now could I?)

I am blinking at the mirror; as I gasp in shock, over the result. I am lifting up my hands, before me; gazing at the hands before me. Even if the touch-pads and suction-cups has to be fake, the image is still holding up. (Even if I guess: my eyes may not be up to the task, of judging as I am a bit tired.)

The long nails still looks wondrous, as it is not new for me, to have long nails. (It is just the exact style, I have never managed to pull off before.)

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I had chosen a pair of black silk panties, for the night; stepping into them, right and left. Finally; I am pulling the matching top down over my head, only to afford it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.

“Rarity” the label reads; “Nighttime Top” the subtitle reads. (Of course, the subtitle for the panties would read: “Nighttime Panties”, rather than top.)

I love all Rarity’s clothes; which is why I had bought, and in the night. {But, why not?})

Since I had dressed up for the night, I walk over to my bed; folding the corner up against the wall, before I am sitting down on my bed. I slip my feet in under the quilt and lay down; folding the quilt back down, in the process.

As my head hit the pillow; I find myself falling asleep, in my sleepy state. (Nothing to do about it, but I had wanted to sleep in any event.)

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I open my eyes, as I am waking up; feeling as if it had barely been a minute since I closed my eyes and fell asleep, even if I feel rested as if I had had my full night’s sleep.

I am folding the corner of my quilt up against the wall, before I am slipping my feet out from under the quilt; finding myself sitting up in the bed, pushing myself forwards.

“Thud, thud!” is heard, as my feet are hitting the floor. (The comforting noises from the pitter-patter of soft little feet.)

The room is still dark, thus I can see very little of the room. Though it feels as if it is the room in which I had just fallen asleep, as if it had been little more than a few minutes since I went to bed and fell asleep.

As I am turning around; I can clearly see the framed photo of Twilight Sparkle hanging over my bed. I am still taking comfort, in seeing the image; even if I can no longer recall why I had hung the photo over my bed, or when.

Furthermore; I can see a selection of birthday cards, from Pinkie Pie herself. (I had saved these cards, from every year she had sent one; even if she had sent one each year, on my birthday.)

These cards are reminding me, of all the fun I had had with my friends; on each and every party, she had thrown on my birthdays. (These memories are firmly in my mind, as I am looking at these cards; even if these memories are not the memories I had, when I had been to these parties.. {Just that these parties seem to be universal, thus I am still recalling these parties.} Pinkie Pie does not permit me, to forget the parties and all the fun I had; even if it is the me, from the mask I am wearing.)

I am walking over to the wardrobe, opening the door as I reach the door.

On my way to the wardrobe, I stop by my Stereo; selecting “Octavia” and her album: “Chello: Shell Shock”, before I continue on my way to the wardrobe, in order to change into my daytime wears. (I love this album, and Octavia is my favourite Artist.)

I stop before my wardrobe, opening the door to the daytime wears. First now, I am slipping my panties down, leaving them in a pile on the floor of my wardrobe; before I am pulling the top up over my head, depositing it onto the top of the pile of clothes.

Once nude, I explore the options of clothes I am having before me; extracting a pair of pristine white silk panties and step right into them right and left. I pull the panties up in comfort.

I extract a matching top, slipping it down over my head; enjoying the sense of the support the top is lending my breasts in the process.

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I slip in a pair of skin-tone ear-buds into my ears, before I am switching my stereo over to the Wi-Fi mode. (Now I can still enjoy listening to the rest of the album, without bothering anyone with my music.)

I had slipped into a red cotton knee-long pencil-skirt and a white blouse. (Naturally; I had buttoned the blouse up, from the first to the last button.) Finally, I had slipped a black leather vest on. (It comes with two convenient chest pockets, the blouse did not have; and I love having this convenient feature available, when I go out of my room.)

“I should have an Apple-pie from Sweet Apple Acres, for breakfast!” I ponder, as I am walking out of my room.

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Pass: - "Faux Pas" Confirmed..

the Mask

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Author's Note

Would you enjoy to see illustrations in this and upcoming chapters?