Confession

Despite the fact that she had entered into a church, her miniskirt rode up to just underneath her curvy ass. Her long, dirty-brown hair fell across a light-blue blouse that barely covered her bellybutton. Her face, made-up as it was, radiated some unknown natural beauty that came with light-blue eyes, soft lips, and paradoxical purity.

The church itself was large and imposing. Stained glass displaying the New Testament featured heavily on its windows. Samantha wasn’t interested in the pretty artwork, though. A cute young man was walking back from the altar, and she gave him a firm look up and down before ducking into the confessional. Once she heard the priest enter, she fell to her knees and began to pray.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was two weeks ago." She gave off the voice of an angel.

Samantha didn’t recognize the scripture the priest chose to recite, but it certainly had something to do with identity. She tried not to listen to it too much.

“You know,” the priest interrupted her thoughts, “this would go a lot smoother if I knew who was actually confessing.”

The young woman let out a small shout of surprise and nodded sheepishly. A hand went to the back of her neck, before the soft sound of a zipper filled the small confessional. “Sorry Father,” came a more masculine voice than before. “You get so used to things sometimes…” His hands gently tugged the mask off, revealing a pale face underneath Samantha’s messy hair. “Is this good?”

“It is good enough,” the priest replied. “How long have you worn her, anyways?”

“I’d prefer not to say, Father. We’ve been together a long time.”

The priest remained silent.

“We’re going on dates now. Trying to find ‘the one’. Met a nice guy. He’s Protestant though, so I don’t know just yet.”

“Are you…two…trying to find Catholic men?”

“Maybe. We’re just looking to settle down. You’d be surprised what this suit can do, Father. You could get lost in here…lost in the life. I was thinking I’d like that. I’d be something real for once.” He left off like that, and a small silence hung over the booth.

“Are you proposing I talk to her next time?”

“Maybe. I don’t know if you’d like to meet her. I know the stance on sex and changing your body and everything, but I really think it’s different from all that.” He looked at the interior of the suit, streaked with sweat. Samantha’s face hung from his hands. The young man felt cold. He gave a hearty squeeze to the suit’s gag breasts.

The priest thought long and hard about this. Eventually, he gave an answer. “No sin, except doubt in the existence of God, is without forgiveness. Is there anything you would like to confess?”

The young man nodded. “Yes. I have lied to people since the last time I came here. The same as always, Father. Guilt. I’ve also been taken by a lover many times in the last two weeks. It’s likely I'll do it again, and I'm sorry for it. I've done anal and oral, too.”

The elder man grunted, and his shadow could be seen shaking his head. “You know, the whole point of confession is to try to cleanse oneself of sin…” He looked through the peephole, but the young man did not turn to meet his gaze. “But it is enough,” The priest turned back, and closed his eyes. “You know what you must do; A hundred Hail Marys, like the last time. I shall see you in two weeks then.”

The young man stretched the mask in front of him and took a deep breath. He looked through the eyeholes and gently tugged the mask back over his head, letting the face envelope his own as the tight silicone shell stretched across his cheeks. After a few slight readjustments, aligning the ears, nose, cheeks, and eyeholes with naught but a few pinches, Samantha had returned in full force.

“Praise be to God.” With the mask donned once more, the young woman stepped out of the confessional. Her demeanor remained its usual cocky smirk. As she waltzed down to the pews. Soon, she was on her knees once more, now with her head bowed. She heard footsteps approaching her, and realized silently to her delight that it was the man at the altar.

“Well hello there, cutie,” She gently took his hands in hers, slipping a small paper with her phone number  on it in between his fingers. “What are you doing tonight?”

The reply came from the confessional. “Hey, make that two-hundred Hail Marys!”