Aubrey Plaza wears The Mask (Bald Version) (Patreon)

Aubrey's Biggest Fans:

Aubrey Plaza’s eyes fluttered open to the sight of a dimly lit, cold room. The walls were bare, and the air was thick with an unsettling mix of incense and candle smoke. Her arms and legs were tied to a chair, hands bound behind her, ankles strapped together, preventing any escape.

As her senses sharpened, she noticed a group of people standing around her in reverent silence. Each wore hooded cloaks, their faces obscured, but she could feel their eyes on her—devoted, almost worshipful. She felt a shiver of irritation and confusion ripple through her, but before she could demand an explanation, one of them stepped forward, holding an old, wooden-green mask.

It was unmistakably the Mask she’d read about—the one that turned ordinary people into something twisted, wild, and immensely powerful. She knew her fans could be a little… intense, but this was beyond anything she’d imagined.

“What is this?” she snapped, her voice laced with sarcasm to cover the nervous undertone. “Some kind of weird fan club initiation?”

One of the hooded figures spoke in a soft, reverent voice. “You are our muse, our queen of chaos. We have spent years tracking down this artifact—this Mask. You deserve this power, Aubrey, and we can’t wait to see what you do with it.”

Her sarcastic retort died on her lips as the follower lifted the Mask, stepping closer with an almost ceremonial air. Before she could jerk away, another pair of hands pressed down on her shoulders, holding her still.

“Hey, let’s—maybe talk about this first!” Aubrey exclaimed, but her captors remained silent, their intentions set. In one swift motion, the Mask was pressed onto her face.

The instant it touched her skin, a powerful surge of energy coursed through her, sparking a transformation that both thrilled and terrified her. The Mask adhered to her like a living thing, its edges writhing and twisting as it melted onto her face, melding with her very flesh. A warm, tingling sensation crawled across her scalp, followed by an intense, almost unbearable tickling as her hair began retracting, sucking into her new green rubber skull until she was completely bald.

Her skin shifted to a slick, rubbery green, glowing under the dim light. She felt her facial features twist and expand; her cheekbones sharpened, her eyes grew larger and more expressive, and her mouth stretched into an impossibly wide grin, gleaming with perfectly white, oversized teeth.

Aubrey felt her mind sink into a dark, surreal world. Every restraint and inhibition that kept her controlled in public life disintegrated like paper in a bonfire. Her mind erupted with repressed impulses, strange fantasies, and chaotic desires she’d buried deep beneath sarcasm and deadpan wit. She wanted to laugh—no, cackle—to let out the unhinged energy surging through her.

With a loud ripping sound, her casual clothes tore away and were replaced by an extravagant dress, half silver and half black, perfectly tailored to her new shape. It was strapless, clinging below her green-skinned head into her frame with a liquid-like sheen that seemed to shimmer with each manic breath she took.

The transformation was complete, and Aubrey could feel a new self—bold, gleefully wicked, and utterly free—rising to the surface. She flexed her muscles, feeling immense strength coursing through her limbs, no longer constrained by the bindings around her wrists and ankles. With a mere flick of her hands, the ropes fell away as if they were made of air.

Aubrey tilted her bald, green head back, laughing with a wildness that shook the very walls of the room. The hooded followers took a step back, captivated and a little terrified by what they’d unleashed.

“Be careful what you wish for, my little lunatics,” she cooed, her voice rich with gleeful menace. Her oversized grin flashed as she looked around, taking in the awed, trembling faces of her captors.

She rose from the chair in a single, fluid motion, running a hand down the sleek surface of her dress. She could feel her every movement amplified, her body a work of surreal power and grace, a creature of pure, unchecked impulse. She reached out to one of the followers, tracing a long, gloved finger down their cheek.

“Now, my dear devotees,” she purred, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly light, “who’s ready to really have some fun?”