Lying to a Snake (Medusa 2)

Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep!

Her limbs felt heavy. Everything felt… tight. Amy grimaced, eyes still screwed shut. Had she gone to sleep wearing her clothes or something? Shit. Wherever she tossed and turned, the pressure around her body still prodded annoyingly at the edges of her consciousness. Was she caught in the sheets, perhaps?

Amy growled and heaved herself up into a sitting position and finally opened her eyes. Ugh. The sun was too bright- why were the shades up? She grappled blindly into thin air.

But wait. This wasn’t her room. Amy blinked again, hard. Wrong shape, wrong size- since when had her bed been placed along the back wall? Where was her dresser, her bookshelf, the computer desk- wait, whose hand was that? The scaly green talons outstretched away from her face-

Amy jolted fully awake as the memories poured back into her beleaguered brain. Along with the realization came the acute sensation of encasement, of scaly skin too tight upon her skin, of sheathes inserted deep within her, of the faint film across her eyes and the rubber encasing her lips and teeth and tongue. A mental image drifted across her hazy mind- a sinuous figure, all sensuous curves, belonging to a heart-stoppingly beautiful face and piercing eyes that shifted from poisonous yellow to glittering emerald-

Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep!

Amy’s alarm clock was insistent. She looked around. Daylight was already streaming through the privacy-misted window beside her bed, bathing the plain concrete floor in a glittering sea. Across the room was the door to the bathroom, and Amy could see the mirror where the apparition of the medusa had first appeared, as well as the sink in front of it, atop which she had been crouching on yesterday while furiously driving her fingers into her-

Beep beep beep!

She reached over with a taloned hand and quieted the alarm. As it assented with an irritated electronic buzz, her eye caught on the mass of posters scattered just beyond, piled haphazardly on the tabletop. What had driven her to suddenly pull her posters down? They were the only decoration that Amy had been able to stuff inside her suitcase, along with the three changes of clothes and the bare necessities that the company had allowed. Faced with the realization that she would have to endure three and a half weeks with no phone, no internet, and no access to the outside world, Amy had packed a handful of her favorite posters, including two of Panic! At the Disco and a particularly large one depicted Nyan Cat (which had been the butt of an inside joke between her and her college friends, eons ago).

It was the latter that Amy now reached over and gingerly eased out from underneath the eight or nine other pieces of paper threatening to roll up and fall off the table. The pixelated cat at its center, dancing among a sea of stars, seemed to be giving her an accusatory glare. Amy gave it a lingering, apologetic glance, then tossed it back onto the pile and threw herself back into her bed with a sigh. What had she been thinking? Had it been the heat of the moment? What had that sensation been that rose up in her yesterday, ferocious and self-assured beyond all doubt?

Amy rubbed her fingers together thoughtfully, then rolled out of bed. The coldness of the floor transmitted directly through the scaly, fleshy rubber material wrapped around her feet, and she winced and padded over to the bathroom quickly. For whatever reason, the stone tile of the bathroom floor was noticeably warmer, and Amy breathed a sigh of relief. Then her eyes turned, as if pulled by some unrelenting force, to the mirror.

Curves. Flashing yellow eyes. But gone was the scaled temptress from last night, oozing confidence and sexual appeal. The haughty, hungry look was gone from the eyes of the gorgon currently looking out from the mirror- replaced instead with curiosity and a touch of anxiety. The arched, predatory posture of an ancient snake-monster was gone, and a familiar slouched posture definitively belonging to Amy remained.

But it wasn’t Amy that was in that mirror, either. Definitely not. How could it be? Despite all the things sticking into her, all the constant physical reminders that she was locked and sealed away deep in the skin of a fantasy being, the figure in the mirror was too real- and too alien- to wholly connect with the schema of a young, shy, twenty-four year old art history major who struggled to make ends meet as a museum assistant and whose favorite pastime was to binge watch The Office.

The gorgon traced her cheek, then ran her finger down her neck and side to curl around her alien crotch, and the slit that belonged to another woman. In any case, she wasn’t Medusa, that was clear- and while she was still in no way Amy, “Amy” would have to do for now. She inclined her head, letting her reflection nod in agreement. Yes. Amy. That was simple enough.

With those doubts appeased, at least for the moment, Amy turned her thoughts back to her body. She still had trouble thinking of it as a suit- after all, the material was too much like real skin and betrayed none of the errant folds and creases of regular clothing or even rubber or silicone. While the glittering eyes, the exotic retractable claws on her hands, and the snakes writhing sleepily on her head were undoubtedly nothing short of fantastical, everything had an unnerving sense of realism to it. Unnerving- not because of it being somehow short of being believable, but because it was something so fantastical- and yet, so… true. Amy bent forward, examining the glitter of her golden, serpentine gaze, which hid her own eyes underneath, imprisoned in darkness. It was an intelligent and ancient stare, something with eons of history and passions and sorrows locked away in it, like a memory belonging to the body that Amy was inhabiting that she had yet to find.

Tap tap.

Amy turned to look in the direction of the main door, which was out of sight from her position in the bathroom. Somebody was knocking.

Tap tap tap tap tap.

Amy padded back onto the chilly floor and made her way to the door. The knocking continued.

Tap tap TAP TAP.

“Yes, I’m here,” Amy called, and once again had to marvel at her new, sultry voice, which oozed out like poisonous honey. It was the final reminder that she wasn’t, in a sense, herself anymore- if it wasn’t enough reminder to see a serpentine succubus in the mirror where she was standing, or feel the suit squeeze around her and continually penetrate her in every way imaginable oh fuck-

Creakkk~

The door swung open to reveal a person in a baggy, utilitarian blue jumpsuit and reflective full-head helmet, standing stiffly with a clipboard under its arm. Amy stood frozen for a fraction of a second at the sight of the imposing figure, her slowly magnifying pleasure leaking away, before she remembered- the people that worked with her remained anonymous at all times, in order to disclose their identity and protect the intellectual secrets of the entertainment company in charge.

“You are needed in the suiting room for a required modification, Miss Aguilar. Put on some clothes and come with me immediately.”

Amy’s eyes swung down to the figure’s chest, where a bold “3” was printed in the center. Three. She tried to remember. Right. The mean one.

“Sure, all right,” Amy said cautiously. “Can you give me a few minutes?”

“I’ll wait here,” Three said in the monotone, scratchy voice generated by the scrambler. “Be quick.”

Amy closed the door and quickly ran to her clothes, where she had discarded them the night before. She hesitated, then shook her head and quickly lunged to her suitcase, haphazardly extracting a new set of clothes. In a moment, her sexy gorgon body was dressed in a pair of comfortable sweatpants and an old Game of Thrones t-shirt. Amy felt at her shoulders and breasts uncomfortably- she had put on a bra and some briefs out of habit, but it felt utterly strange, not to mention that her new curves and fuller breasts simply did not fit. Amy grimaced, shifting from foot to foot, before huffing in resignation and quickly stripping again, putting the bra and briefs away before dressing once more. That would have to do.

She went to the door again and opened it. Three was standing nearly in the exact same position and with the exact same posture, back ramrod straight. Amy made eye contact with Three- or tried to, hard to do that when there was a reflective visor preventing even the most fleeting glimpse of any features whatsoever- and timidly nodded. “I’m, um, ready.”

“Good,” came the curt reply. “Follow me.”

The drab hallways passed by at a dreary pace as Amy followed Three. She could swear that the hallways all looked the exact same- similar light and wall fixtures, uniform unpainted walls and flooring. It almost seemed like the soulless corporate posters tacked every few lengths repeated themselves in an endless line of homogenous shapes and washed-out colors.

Perhaps it was this painful uniformity that threw Amy off at first. Or maybe the length of time that it was taking to travel to the suiting room. Whichever it was, Amy suddenly realized that they weren’t going the right way.

But as Amy opened her mouth to ask Three where they were going, her suited and masked escort whipped around, slamming a hand over Amy’s mouth and another on her shoulder as she was pushed into an alcove. The sheer speed with which everything happened snapped Amy into stunned compliance, and she only weakly struggled as Three pinned her to the wall. The grip over her ironically already-gagged mouth stayed like a vice, and Three maneuvered their body weight to ensure Amy couldn’t move before removing the other hand from her shoulder… up to her helmet.

As the helmet slid off, Amy couldn’t help but let out a muffled “mgphh?” of shock. A curtain of sleek black hair was the first to appear, but was quickly swept away to reveal the face of a rather pretty Asian woman, possibly in her… twenties? Thirties? Dispassionate dark brown eyes scanned Amy’s face. There was a muted clunk as the helmet was dropped to the floor. The woman leaned in close.

“I’m sorry for this,” she said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “But they monitor everything. Cameras. Mics. This is risky enough.

“My name is Song Min-seo. I’m one of the lead programmers for Nyx Hypercostainment Corp. I don’t have much time, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. Nyx Corp uses unethical personality and memory override software to hijack the minds of participant performers- like you- for the duration of the contract.”

Amy blinked. What? Personality and memory override software?

Min-seo brushed some hair out from her face and continued in the same soft, grave tones. “This hijacking allows them to effectively control what goes on in the televised arena and play it all to a script. It’s vaguely mentioned but buried deep in your waivers, and obviously it’s all legally questionable.

“Now- pay attention- you had a chip attached to the base of your neck as they were putting on your mask. Yes, the gorgon mask. The chip can only be activated locally by a machine they designed, to my knowledge, and comes preset with slight personality changes for them to test the effectiveness of the code with your consciousness. Today is the day they activate the chip, and the three-day accomodation period is for them to test if it works completely. Now, generally, the chip overrides the memory of the performer completely so they instinctively know how to trigger certain actions specific to the creature they perform as, as well as creates a backstory for their character that they can easily access. The chip is also set to modify personality so they in effect become their character. Once the contract is over, the chip wipes all memory of the contract and replaces it with an engineered fake, then is extracted. Poof.

“Thankfully, I was placed in charge of the gorgon code specifically. I couldn’t cut all of it- they would grow suspicious if you failed to follow along with their plotted sequences. But I disabled the complete memory repression in favor of a partial repression, and modified some of the gorgon personality scripts so you wouldn’t completely lose control.

“When you get to the suiting chamber, you need to make sure that you answer ‘yes’ to all of their questions. Do you understand? That’s what the program would supposedly force you to do. Anything out of the ordinary might make the on-site programmers double-check the code, and they’ll discover what I did. Just say yes and nod and they’ll activate the chip- yes and nothing more. Then the chip goes online. From there on out the gorgon personality will take care of everything. All I need you to do beyond that is remember what you see and what they do to you, and get in touch with me after the three weeks are done. I’ll forward the intell to my contact in the FBI, and we’ll bust this corporation. Got it?”

Amy only now realized that Three- no, Min-seo- had removed her hand from Amy’s mouth a long time ago, and that she had been staring slack-jawed for a few minutes. It was unbelievable, all this, quite literally some spy shit, and-

“I’m just here for the money,” Amy blurted out. “I didn’t want to get caught up in some sort of conspi-”

“SHHHHhhhhhh!” Min-seo slapped a hand over Amy’s mouth again. “Not so loud! There’s a mic in my helmet and I don’t know how sensitive it is.” She removed the hand slowly. “I just need you to say yes, yes, yes, to all of their questions in a few minutes. That’s all for right now. Can you do that for me?”

Her gaze was icy and intense. Amy quailed, hoping that her hyper-realistic mask wasn’t accurate enough to convey the intense surprise and anxiety injected into her veins at the current moment. But some of it must have leaked through, because in the next moment Min-seo’s gaze softened.

“Look,” she said quietly, with more warmth than Amy had heard from her ever before, “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot. But we don’t have much time and it’s vital that you do this or my cover gets blown and the FBI will take months, perhaps years, to plant another operative with their increased scrutiny. This is the best chance we have. So… please, can you help me?”

Amy worked her lips, at a loss for words. Her gaze fell to the floor, to the discarded helmet. Then back up to Min-seo.

“I…”

Min-seo gently laid her hand on Amy’s shoulder. “Please?”

Amy blinked hard. “I, uh. Okay. I’ll… I’ll do that.”

A small, relieved smile crept on Min-seo’s face. “Great,” she said. “Superb.

“Well,” she said, brisk and businesslike once more, “we need to move. They’ll be getting suspicious. I took us on a long enough detour as it is.”

In one fluid motion, Min-seo reached down and picked up the helmet, then pulled it on once more, plunging her delicate features into reflective oblivion. The voice scrambler crackled. “Quickly, Miss Aguilar. They’re waiting for us.”

-----

“And did you perhaps… notice anything different about yourself last night and this morning? Apart from, hah, the obvious? Mood fluctuations, perhaps?”

“...yes,” Amy said. She tried very hard to avoid looking at Three- Min-seo- who was standing at attention along with four of her other colleagues near the back of the room.

One nodded and checked something off on their clipboard.

“Abnormal behaviors?”

“Yes,” Amy said, more strongly.

“Any mastubatory activities last night or this morning?”

Amy hesitated, shocked by the bluntness of the question. “...yes.”

One nodded gravely, and the pen flicked behind the clipboard. “Excellent. Well, Amy, please step on towards the, uh, scanner that- Three? Three. Get the scanner and set it to CommProccess. We have a green light. Amy, just walk over to Three. This’ll take no more than a second.”

Amy turned, ice in her veins, towards the back. Three had picked up what looked akin to a wireless metal-detecting wand and had stepped forward, posture still stiff. Amy dared a glance back at One.

“No need to be nervous, my dear,” One said, in as reassuring of a tone as the voice scrambler allowed. “Go on.”

One step. Then the next. Thoughts and anxieties and half-formed, murky whispers of personality repression and memory overrides whispered at the edges of Amy’s mind, and each footstep felt heavier and heavier, as if gravity in the room was slowly being turned up. Suddenly Amy was next to Three (when had she gotten there?) and the wand was disappearing out from the left corner of her vision as Three reached and-

Blank.

A wavering world.

Existence, sensation, a jumble of forgotten things and a whirlwind tearing her mind apart-