Doppelgänger

Author's note:

Thank you, once again, for taking the time to read my silly stories.

This story is a bit different from my previous stuff. I have never tried to write something with a sci-fi/fantasy element to it, so I appreciate any constructive feedback you might give. While my other stories do contain some fantasy elements, like personality-altering slut drugs, or things like Erin & Casey's Haloes, I haven't tried to write one based on a premise like this. Those who do read my weird tales know that they focus heavily on the good girl goes slut theme, and this one is no different. It's just got a bit of a different spin on it. I hope you enjoy Angela's upside down adventure, and if you are following along with the wider world of slutdom I've been crafting, you'll find some good easter eggs here, including a Stephanie Hamlin cameo. There's also a significant tie-in for the upcoming conclusion of Steph and Tori's tale that started all this crap. Thank you again for your continued support as I work to always improve my skills.

Synopsis:

Budding scientist Angela doesn't believe in silly things like magic necklaces. Then, she buys one from a tricksy shopkeeper, and finds that she's swapped lives with her mega-bitch doppelgänger, Angie.

Having essentially ruined her own life through her disregard for other people, and perverted love of prostituting her hot teenage body for fun and profit, Angie finds that Angela's life offers a great second chance. It just needs a few sexy adjustments.

In order to reclaim her life, Angela will need to lift the curse. To do that, either Angie will need to become her, or she'll need to become like Angie. And Angie doesn't have any desire to trade places.

Chapter 1: Curio

Nothing can just be easy, Angela thought, breathing a sigh at the roadblock that barred her way home. In just the few hours she'd been in the library, construction crews had erected barriers that were now blocking her usual route from the library to her home. She'd have to double back and go down 3rd Street. She hated 3rd Street.

The dirty little throughway was a favorite hangout for the more unsavory denizens of the town, and they were always accosting passersby for money or trying to peddle drugs. She set her small stack of books down on a nearby bench and slipped her little purse underneath her shirt to hide it. There was nothing else for it.

Angela doubled back, passed the library, and banked left down 2nd, hurried down the block, and then onto 3rd. She walked at a brisk pace, holding her books to her chest and looking straight ahead, ignoring the glances from alleyways and the corners of boarded-up buildings. Halfway down the street, the first brazen panhandler took up stride next to her.

"Spare some change, little lady?" he asked.

Angela shook her head and squeaked, "I don't carry any cash. I'm sorry."

The dirty man spit on the sidewalk and walked away. Angela let out her breath and hurried along. The end of the street was now in sight. From there, she could cut down 6th and she'd be in downtown proper, where it was clean and safe.

Nearing the intersection, she passed a small curio shop, where something made her pause. The sun reflected the light off a little trinket in the window. The tiny pendant, shaped like a ruby heart, twinkled so invitingly in the window, draped around a black display neck. She stepped to the glass and stared at the thing. It was just so pretty. The small facets caught the light of the sun, making the thing blaze with red light. She looked into it, and could see the street behind her reflected to near perfection in the shiny surface.

Angela wasn't much for jewelry, or for dressing up at all, for that matter. She'd best be described as plain. She did not stand out or call attention to herself. Attention made her nervous, anxious, uncomfortable. There was something about this cute little heart, though. She pushed open the door to the shop and stepped inside. The place seemed like the average knick-knack shop, littered with trinkets and baubles. A bell tinkled above the door as she entered. Angela scanned the various items on the shelves and displays out of reflex, but really there was only one thing she was interested in.

From behind a beaded curtain, a gray-haired, matronly woman wrapped in a tattered shawl emerged.

"Hello." She said, "Can I help you?"

The woman's accent made it sound more like "Ken ah hilp you?"

Angela set her books on the counter.

"There's a necklace in your window. Would you mind if I looked at it?" She asked.

The woman nodded, and Angela followed her to the window, pointed out the pendant, and watched the woman remove it from the display. She offered it, and Angela took it, holding it by the delicate silver chain. The little ruby swung back and forth hypnotically. It really was pretty, she thought.

"How much?" Angela asked.

"Special sale. $13." The woman replied.

For Angela that was a lot.

"It's so pretty." Angela said, watching it sway.

"Is magic." The woman said, "From old country. Just stories, though." She smiled.

"Magic?" Angela asked, snapping her eyes from the pendant. She didn't believe in that garbage, but old stories were something of a curiosity to her.

"I do not know this is true." The woman said, shaking her head. "It was from babushka. She likes to tell stories from old country. Wendigo. Baba Yaga. She just likes to scare the children. Old woman, always with the salt over the shoulder." She shrugged.

"Do you know the story?" Angela asked.

She shrugged again and said, "She say that stone has the whole world in it, but... different. Opposite. I do not know. Old woman, always with the garlic in her pocket. Would not even let us leave shoes under bed."

It sounded to Angela as though babushka was just a superstitious old Russian woman that liked to tell scary stories to her grandchildren.

"I'll take it." She said, and handed the pendant back to the woman.

Moments later, Angela emerged from the shop, the little pendant in her purse, and took 6th Street into downtown. A twenty-minute walk across the strip, and a few turns later, brought her home. She pulled the screen door open and stepped in. The blare of the TV from the living room signaled that her father was in his favorite spot.

Dale held a can of beer while the TV droned. A pile of mail, most of which was marked "Past Due" lay on the coffee table. Angela winced at the sight of it. Her dad was working two jobs to cover the bills left behind by her mother's over-spending, prior to their divorce.

"Hey, dad." She said, and gave him a kiss on the head.

"Hey, Ang. How was the library?"

"Ok. They closed the road, so I had to take 3rd home."

"Yuck." He spat, with a look of disgust.

She glanced at the pile of mail again and said, "Dad, you should let me get a job. They're hiring at the market. I could help out."

Her father shook his head. "School is more important. You need to be better than this, honey." He waved his hand over "this" to encompass his life.

"Find anything good in the stacks?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

She sat down and showed him the books. He appraised the titles with a smile. Libraries were becoming extinct in the digital world, but there were still people who clung to paper, and Angela was one of them. Her dad was another. He might not have been the brightest bulb on paper, but the man consumed the printed page voraciously. They shared that.

Angela took the stack of books up to her room and set them on her bedside table. She withdrew her purse from under her shirt, and took the little pendant out, letting it swing back and forth on the chain as it glittered in the ruddy light of her table lamp. It really was pretty. She laid it on her desk next to the purse and took up a book, settling in on her bed for the evening's entertainment.

Chapter 2: The Stupid Old Hag with the Necklace

Arnold was a regular who really loved beating his hard dick into Angie's mouth while he held her hair. This was the third time in a week that she'd knelt, knees on a pillow in Arnold's 3rd Street apartment, while the old guy fucked his sizable prick into her mouth. God, it made her wet! Something about having a guy old enough to be her dad so crazy about stuffing his dick into her throat like she was a toy just got her hot as fuck.

"You ready for daddy's cum, baby?" Arnold asked, his legs trembling as he fed his shaft into her mouth.

"Gug!" Angie replied.

"Here it comes. That's my cocksucker. Here it comes!"

Angie braced for the familiar hard blast of semen, and immediately began to swallow when the first shot hit the back of her throat. There'd been a time when she had choked on Arnold's copious jizz loads, but no more. She'd become an expert cum-swallower, and guzzled it down with practiced ease.

Once his dick was satisfied, Arnold had no use for the hot little teen. Angie left his apartment with $100 and a belly filled with sticky semen. She held up the spit-soaked top she'd just changed out for a new one, and tossed it on the floor in the hallway. The top had cost nearly as much as she'd just made, but whatever. She could just swipe one of her dad's credit cards and get a new one.

Angie left the apartment building and strode down 3rd toward the parking garage on 6th. Just before the intersection, though, something caught her eye, laying in the window of a storefront she'd passed by a hundred times. She'd never gone in. The place was a dump. This time she paused and walked to the window. Among the displays, as though it had been dropped by accident, she saw the little ruby heart that had caught the light as she passed by, twinkling like fire in the afternoon sun. She was sure it was just some cheap glass trinket, but there was something about it that was just so cute.

A bell above the door of the shop tinkled as she pushed it open and stepped inside. She went to the window, and picked up the trinket, holding it up to the light. In its polished surface, she could see the shop reflected in almost mirror quality. An old woman in a ratty shawl emerged from a beaded curtain. The woman looked at the necklace and choked, feeling in her pockets in a panic.

"Stop!" She called over the counter to Angie.

Angie whipped around to face her, holding the necklace.

"How much?" She asked.

"Not for sale!" The woman said, and rounded the counter, "Please. Give it back!"

Her accent made it sound like, "Geev it beck!"

"Everything's for sale." Angie countered, wrapping the necklace in her fist.

"You do not want." The woman argued, shaking her head, "Is cursed!"

"Oh, please." Angie rolled her eyes, "Cursed?"

"From old country." The woman said, reaching for the necklace.

"Tell me about it." Angie said, smirking, putting the necklace behind her back.

"Please. Give it back."

"Tell me, and I will."

The woman looked agitated, wringing her hands, but finally she said, "Stone has the whole world in it, but different. Opposite. You do not understand. Please. Give it back. Will ruin you."

"Come on. Name your price. It's so pretty."

"Not for sale!"

"Fine. Have it your way." Angie shrugged and ran for the door.

"No!" The woman cried after her, but Angie was too fast for the old hag's spindly legs.

Chapter 3: The Whole World, but Different

Angela stood at the bus stop the next morning, dressed for school in an ivory blouse that hid her shapely body, and a pair of baggy trousers. Her glasses perched on her nose, and the little pendant hung from her neck on its short chain, resting just at the base of her throat. Most of the other seniors in her class had their own cars or had friends with cars. Angela did not have a car, nor many friends, and rode the bus. Soon, though, high school would be over and she would graduate with honors. Her bus arrived, and she shouldered her backpack, got on, and took a seat.

Angela typically sat alone with her book. People rarely took notice of her, and she liked it that way. The bus rumbled away from her stop. She opened the book and read as the other students jabbered around her. Outside, the sunlight grew in intensity, and Angela had to shield her eyes to read. As the bus droned on, the light seemed to grow even brighter, brighter, to the point that she couldn't keep her eyes open. She shut them against the brightness, and then, just as suddenly, the light dimmed. She blinked back tears as she opened her eyes and looked out the window.

Odd, she thought. She quickly popped her head over the seat, but no one else seemed bothered by the sudden light show. Fucking sun, she thought and returned to her book. The squeak of the seat springs next to her interrupted her reading. Angela looked up from her book into the smiling face of Macy Pinder.

"Hey, Ang." Macy said, a friendly smile across her dark-skinned face, "Whatcha readin'?"

Macy Pinder was talking to her? Macy Pinder was asking her about a book? Confused, Angela showed Macy the cover of the book.

"Luna's Pride." Macy stated, "Not one of my favorites, but it's still good. I liked the Eclipse series better. Have you read that one?"

Macy Pinder had read a book? Angela thought, baffled.

"Um, yeah. I have the whole series at home." She stammered. "I didn't know you liked Ray Roderson."

Angela did not know that Macy liked any sort of book. Macy ran with one of the rougher crowds, and books were about the last thing on their list of interests.

"Are you kidding? He's the best."

For the rest of the ride to school, Angela became engrossed in a literary conversation with one of the most unruly girls in school. Had she been wrong about Macy since the 5th grade? She departed the bus with a list of Macy's recommended authors and a sense of confusion.

Angela followed the press of students into the school and wound her way through the halls to her locker, which would not open. Puzzled, she tried the combination again. Nothing. Perturbed, she turned around and nearly bowled right over one of her few friends, Kat. Angela blinked and looked her friend over, now even more confused. Kat was, like her, a bookish girl with curly brown hair that was usually done up with little bows. She wore glasses, similar to Angela's, and never dressed in anything that could be considered revealing or provocative.

Today, though, Kat had her shiny brunette curls pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a cropped top with a deep V-neck and a tight denim skirt. A navel ring twinkled on her tummy, and when she opened her mouth to speak, a tongue ring clicked against her teeth.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Kat asked with a look of disgust.

"What?" Angela asked back, her face a study in shock.

"Those bags, stupid." Kat snapped, "Where did you dig up those nasty fucking rags?"

"I... what?" Angela asked again.

Kat rolled her eyes, and behind her she could hear two other girls laughing. The laughing girls were Candice and Laura, two of the girls from the book club. Like Kat they were dressed like... like the popular girls, Candice in a sundress and Laura in a tube top and miniskirt.

"Did I miss the memo on fucking opposite day or something?" Kat jibed, "Seriously gross. Don't talk to me until you can at least get some real clothes. And lose those geek specs. Judas Christ."

Kat flipped her ponytail and stalked off with her two cohorts, giggling wickedly. Angela stared after her, stunned. What kind of weird prank was this? Kat wouldn't be caught dead in something like that! And when had she gotten piercings? Angela shouldered her backpack and started toward class, her locker forgotten as she took in the other students around her. All of them, she saw now, looked different. The people she knew, that she'd been in classes with for most of her life, were all... wrong.

High school had social classes. Nerds. Jocks. Preps. Rockers. The in-betweeners. Most of these people had been part of her life for years as they aged together. She'd watched them all change and become part of one group or another. She was a nerd, she knew. Now, though, everyone that had been like her yesterday was dressed like the popular kids. The popular kids were dressed like her. The rockers were preps, and the preps were grunge.

Opposite day. She stopped in the middle of the hall, getting annoyed looks from the other students. The whole world, she thought, but different. Opposite. Oh, God! She ducked out of the hall into a nearby restroom and entered one of the stalls, wheezing. No way! No fucking way! She took the little pendant off of her neck and held it up, watching it sway.

Angela saw herself reflected in the stone, but the Angela there was not her. She was different. She was, "opposite." she whispered to herself. The Angela looking back at her had a nasty smirk on her face. Her honey hair, normally put up in a bun (as it was now) cascaded loosely over her shoulders, the cut slightly different. The ivory blouse was a tank top in her reflection, and the other Angela's cleavage was blatantly on display.

For one wild moment, she contemplated flushing the thing, but then stopped. She'd read plenty of books about magic jewelry, and if it really was, well cursed she decided, it wasn't going to be broken by simply getting rid of the pendant. A curse or an enchantment had to be lifted, either by the person who had laid the curse or by accomplishing some sort of goal that nullified the curse. She forced herself to calm and think rationally. The shop lady said that the pendant was old, meaning that whoever had put the curse on it was likely long dead. If she needed that person to remove the curse, she was royally fucked. On the other hand, If it could be lifted by reaching a goal, then she had to determine what the goal was. In the stories, the goal usually had to do with what the effects of the curse were.

Everything was the opposite. Everyone expected her to be the opposite of who she was. That must mean that, here, her life was also the opposite. She'd have to fit in until she could figure it out. She looked back into the stone, and to her horror she saw her life as from the viewpoint of the other Angela. Her doppelgänger must be wearing the pendant around her neck. She could see... evil Angela? No. Angie, she decided. Angie was sitting down to class and getting lustful looks from some of the other students.

Angela wrapped her fist around the stone and held it tightly. She wouldn't get home by standing in a bathroom stall. Whatever the goal was, she'd need to figure it out. The shop lady might have answers. How difficult that would prove, she did not know. If everything here was backwards, the shop lady might not even be the same person.

She forced herself to be calm and thought through the next steps. The shop wasn't close. She'd need to take the bus home and walk. That meant getting through the school day, without attracting more attention to herself. She needed to look like Angie, and Angie dressed sexy. It was a safe bet that this school also had a lost and found, like her own. There had to be something in it that was more in line with what her other self might wear. She poked her head out of the stall and glanced at the clock. 20 minutes to the first bell.

Angela hurried through the halls as the body of students thinned, ducking into the front office. She approached the reception desk, where a blonde girl with glasses typed at a computer. The girl looked up as she came near, and Angela knew her. In her world, Stephanie Hamlin was a mega-popular track star for the school. The Stephanie she knew, as well as her twin sister, Tori, were two of the most well-known and likable girls in school. Rumor had it that they also led some kind of double life as porn stars, but that was likely just horny boys wishing. This Stephanie, though, looked like the poster child for nerd, much like Angela herself. The thought of Stephanie Hamlin as an office temp nearly made her burst out laughing.