The Rise of Sin - cedi - Parahumans Series (2024)

Chapter 1: A new Beginning

Chapter Text

As a certain girl was pushed into a gruesome locker, an entirely different woman was hovering far above the world and watched the dance of a pair of multidimensional entities. Although, few had the ability to see her, and of them none were currently tracking her. Which was a part of the problem, the woman figured.

Her boss, the little contrarian that he was, had followed the big guy to his next endeavour. Though the woman couldn’t really blame him. After all, that was what he had been created for. Still, the abandonment stung, even if it allowed her to finally enact some of her own ideas.

She watched as a seed shed from the creatures dancing around her world and drew her lips into a thin line. She tracked its path and once she was sure of its destination, she focused her will. The world twisted around her and a moment later found her in the seed’s path. She caught it with an easy flourish and pressed her crimson talons into the seed’s hyperdimensional shell.

She severed its connection to the whole with contemptuous ease. It wouldn’t do to warn the guys upstairs at this point. No, her champion would need some time to grow before she would be ready to face some real opposition. Having made sure that the little shard couldn’t tattle on her, she took her time while examining it.

It would have been a good power she mused. Versatile and powerful, a shame, really.

“Oh well,” she spoke to the thin atmosphere, and then continued to eviscerate the shard with little more than a few pointed thoughts. Once the shell was scraped clean, she inserted a payload of her own design. She had prepared a few different ones, depending on the recipient. Most of them she discarded at once. The girl wouldn’t handle them well, as they were too far into Endbringer territory. Others just didn’t resonate with the circ*mstances.

Finally, she settled on one of her latest creations. The girl liked programming, after all. So, this should be in her wheelhouse. The woman made a few last-minute corrections to the template in her mind and summoned her power. She compressed the blueprintwith her will, until it crystallized into a blood red shard.

A wide smile appeared on her face. This little shard would be the anvil and hammer that would forge the girl into her champion.

She inserted the shard into the empty shell with a movement of her wrist that would require extra-dimensional senses to track, and then sent it trundling on its merry way to the wailing girl far below them.

As she watched it fall into the clouds, the woman furrowed her brow. It just was a shame that she could only embed such a small spark of her power into the shard. But any more than what she had given would have aroused the notice of her boss. Even as distracted as he was from watching earth by being a thorn in the big guy’s side, he would notice such a drain on his realm.

Still, she had given the girl everything she needed to grow and succeed. The rest would be on her, and if she couldn’t hack it, oh well, there were always more humans on the brink of a trigger event.

“Are you sure you are ready?” Dad asked me for the umpteenth time today. I knew he meant well, but his incessant questions started to make me even more jittery than I already was.

“If you need some more time, I’ll understand.” He added as he brought the car to a stop. Once the car was securely in park, he turned around in his seat until he could look at me without having to twist his neck and back too much. Apparently, he was still a little bit stiff from the bruising.

I avoided his eyes and instead opted for a long look at the school yard. Arcadia, surprisingly, looked just like what the pamphlets promised. The stone paths were free of refuse, the greenery was well groomed, and the grass formed a single, large carpet without any of the ugly, bare dirt patches she was used to from Winslow.

But most shocking of all was the complete lack of graffiti. There wasn’t a single gang tag in sight, even though I was sure that at least E88 had to have a foothold here. The whole place felt too... white, for that not to be the case. I could basically hear the nazi recruiter’s pitch already. “Look how it could be everywhere if all those... troublemakers weren’t here.”

Although, the recruiters around here would probably be far more circ*mspect than the ones at Winslow.

“Little owl?”

I jerked back to the present at my dad’s words. Right, he had been asking me something.

“I’m fine, dad.” I said and felt surprise when I realized that I actually meant it. After the locker I had needed time to recover, to find the strength to face the world once more. But now... I took another quick glance at the pristine yard. Now it was time to return to the world of the living. I had an inkling that if I didn’t rejoin society today, it would only be harder tomorrow and I didn’t know if I would have the strength to do it then.

So, I forced my lips into a weak smile and met my father’s eyes.

“Really,” I said, trying to convince us both, “have to start someday.”

Dad watched me intently for a long few seconds, then spoke, “if you are sure, sweety.”

I nodded and stepped out of the car, grabbing my new school bag from the seat in the back. I grimaced at its weight. It held all the books, pens and doodads I would need at Arcadia, which was a lot more than what we needed at Winslow. Another proof that there were two kinds of education systems in Brockton Bay.

“You remember my work number, right?” Dad asked, almost leaning out of the car so he could meet my eyes.

“Yes, dad,” I sighed, not entirely able to suppress my annoyance from creeping into my tone of voice. He had drilled me on this for hours, by this point I wouldn’t be surprised if I repeated the numbers in my sleep. I knew everything from his work number, over the numbers of his colleagues all the way to the number of my case worker at the PRT.

“And if anyone causes you grief, reach out to Principal Howell, he promised that they would look after you!” He all but shouted behind me. His words turned a few curious heads from the students gathering on the school yard. Thanks dad, that is exactly what I needed, more attention on me.

“Bye dad!” I shouted over my shoulder and hurried away with all the grace of a kicked dog. If I moved fast enough, maybe the students wouldn’t recognize me again. Maybe if I left the jacket in my locker.

While it was still late winter, it probably wouldn’t be too cold inside the school. Arcadia High’s heating budget was most likely higher than the entire budget of Winslow.

Inside, I made my way towards the front office. While this was the first time I stepped foot into Arcadia, I found the office with ease. My dad had been over a bunch of times to discuss my transfer with the principal, and he had coached me on the floor planin fine detail.

Though this was one of the things I was actually glad for. I was tense enough without having to ask my way around.

“You must be Taylor,” a middle-aged woman greeted me as I stepped into the office. “It’s good to finally meet you,” she said cheerfully as she offered me her hand. “I’m Melissa, by the way.”

“Taylor,” I mumbled as I shook her proffered hand. The notion of calling a member of the administration by her first name threw me off balance. That just didn’t happen at Winslow.

The woman, Melissa, continued asking me a bunch of questions. Most of them were the same my father had asked me during breakfast and on the drive over. So, I just nodded and mumbled the occasional affirmative.

After a few minutes of this, the door opened from the outside and a blond bombshell stepped through. I would have liked to use a different word to describe her, as it seemed to be a bit reductionist to call another girl that, even in the sanctity of my own mind. But I found that no other word really fit her. Teenagers just didn’t look like that. Her hair was both straight as a board while still having a lot of volume to it. The locks gleamed like spun gold and framed her face perfectly. A face so unblemished that it was just barely on the right side of the uncanny-valley divide. It had an almost airbrushed feel to it, as if the girl stepped out of the cover of some magazine a digital artist had slaved over for hours.

It didn’t stop there though, as my eyes trailed down her body, I noticed the muscle tone along the arm still holding the door open. I followed the appendage back to a chest that forced the word voluptuous to the forefront of my mind.

While her cardigan hid the entirety of her belly, I imagined that it was just as toned as her arms. The long, long legs were just the cherry on top of this goddess sundae.

I was so entranced by the movement of her glossy lips, that I completely missed to catch the first few words she spoke. I only returned to the present when her nose and brows crunched cutely in concentration.

"Sorry about that,” the girl said after a moment, “I think I let my aura slip for a second there.” She let the door fall closed behind her and offered me her hand. “I’m Victoria Dallon. Pleased to meet you!”

Dallon? I knew that name! I stared at her hand. At Glory Girl’s hand. Holy sh*t...

“I’m uhh, Taylor.” I returned her greeting after a long second of dumbstruck silence.

“Victoria has kindly agreed to show you around the school.” The secretary said from behind me, then handed me a slip of paper. “This is the code to your locker, you’ll find it in hall C. Victoria knows the way.”

“Have a good first day at school,” she said with a kind smile, “and if you have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to come by.”

“Thanks, uhm, Melissa,” I said and nodded awkwardly at her. Then I turned around and followed Victoria out the door. My eyes fell on her shapely ass, and I gulped silently. I was alone with Glory Girl. And probably expected to talk to her, a girl that made Emma look frumpy. I had an inkling that this was going to be a disaster. Why couldn’t they just have handed me a map and left it at that...

Or maybe got some programming club member to show me around. Anything would have been better than the poster girl of Arcadia High. f*ck, I would even take Greg Veder.

Like, didn’t she have better things to do than show the new girl her locker!? I’m sure there was a villain to beat up, or maybe some dam to stop from breaking and flooding a quaint, picturesque village.

My steps faltered. That was actually a good question. Why a known hero? I glanced at the blonde in front of me, and hurried my steps to catch up to her before she noticed my momentary confusion.

Did the PRT suspect something, I wondered. While at the hospital, agents had come by and had scanned me with some kind of tinkertech tool. Afterwards they had asked pointed questions about if I noticed any changes to my body, mood or memory. They had ended the questionnaire with a long monologue about the wards program and that I should contact them if I noticed anything outside the norm.

They hadn’t said so directly, but it was pretty obvious that they had suspected me of having some kind of power. Which was kind of true, I had to admit. Though whatever it was, so far, my power had been completely useless. There was something in my head, or more specifically in my memories. It had the feel of a lockbox, and I just knew that, if opened, it would reveal an entire new world to me. But so far, all the metaphorical banging of my head against it had yielded nothing. Something was missing. A key of some sort, I reckoned.

Which was why I hadn’t told the PRT anything about it. I’d rather not be called a failure by another group of people. Furthermore, I just knew that the Trio would somehow hear about it and somehow manage to make me a laughingstock at Arcadia too.

An image popped unprompted into my mind’s eye. Glory Girl standing over me, a booted foot on my chest, laughing at my non-existing cleavage. I felt heat rush to my head, as my cheeks surely turned scarlet. The gorgeous brute could probably force me to the floor easily, overcoming my feeble resistance with nary but a smirk. And once I was lying on my back, she wouldn’t be happy with just making fun of me, no, for me to gain my freedom I would have to debase myself further. I could already see the white and gold trimmed boot lower towards my face.

Then she would tell me to lick her leather boot clean with that sweet voice of hers, an innocent smile on her face. And I would have no other choice but to follow suit, to lick along the rim of the sole and up over the white leather, tasting whatever she used to make her shoes shine like that...

Tension started to coil in my lower belly and the heat spilled over my cheeks all the way down my chest.

Others would be there, of course, cheering Victoria on to put the weirdo in her place. And then...

With a start I realized what I was thinking and wrestled my thoughts away.

Oh god, no, no, no, I was not going to develop a humiliation fetish! I had survived literal years of bullying from the Trio, and this had never happened before. I was not going to turn into one of these ‘step on me, mommy,’ degenerates Tin_Mother had to ban every time a video or photo of Glory Girl was posted on PHO.

I took a deep breath to try and calm myself, then glanced over at Victoria Dallon.

“So...” I started awkwardly, “school?”

She smiled at me, “yeah, so the general layout of Arcadia High is like a big H. We are currently in the central building, the one that links the other two wings to each other. You’ll find the front office, teacher’s lounge and the cafeteria here.”

Victoria bobbed her head towards the ceiling, “up top are some classrooms and offices, though most of them are rarely used. Except for the principal’s office, of course.”

“The gym is on the northern side of the school, as is the indoor pool. It’s generally reserved for sport clubs, with the exception of the weekend, then it is open to the public. You can get in with your student’s ID free of charge.”

“Oh, that’s neat,” I interjected lamely. I wasn’t much of a swimmer. I’d gone quite often back in the day with Emma. But... these days I didn’t feel too comfortable in a swimsuit. It had already been a struggle to put something on that wasn’t a baggy old hoody this morning. The idea of wearing a one-piece or bikini made me want to vomit from anxiety.

No, Taylor and public swimming were not friends. Though I was sure that Victoria would look equally as gorgeous in a bikini as I would look hideous in one.

With an act of pure willpower, I changed tracks. I was not going to perv over the thought of Victoria in revealing clothes.

... At least not at school.

“Opposite the sport’s wing, as we call it,” Victoria continued, oblivious to my inner struggles, “are the labs, computer, chem, bio, you name it. Ohh, and the workshops, though they are mostly used by guys.”

She must have seen my questioning look, because she quickly added an explanation.

“It’s one of the optional school subjects, like music, sewing and so on. You should have already chosen one before you came here. If not, they will probably reach out to you in the next few days.”

Victoria fell silent for a bit, just guiding me along the corridor. When we reached the southern wing, she continued miming the tour guide.

“Lockers are on the ground floor, along the main corridors. Yours should be right over there,” she said, and pointed seemingly at one of the green lockers at random.

They were half sized lockers, which I liked a lot. No one was going to force anyone into a locker like that. It felt oddly reassuring, even if I doubted that anyone around here would so much as dare to think of it. Not with Glory Girl and an unknown number of other capes around. Especially since one of them was assumedly Galant, the empath boyfriend of one Victoria Dallon.

He would probably have caught the Trio long before they could put their plan into motion.

Our tour continued like that, with Victoria pointing something out to me, and me giving half-hearted responses. But my monosyllabic answers didn’t seem to faze Victoria, which I was glad for. I didn’t want to make her hate me on my first day here. She probably had tons of friends that could make my time here all manners of unpleasant.

“I know this place can be a bit overwhelming at first,” Victoria told me at the end of the tour, holding open the door to my first class, “but don’t worry, you’ll quickly get used to it, and quite soon it will feel like home.”

She shot me a kind smile, that seemed only slightly rehearsed. She started to turn away, then seemed to think better of it.

“Hey, why don’t you sit with me at lunch? We could talk some more...” she paused for a moment to think, then perked up and shot me a radiant smile, “like about which clubs you want to join.”

“There is the theatre club, which I’m in. And of course, the swimming team, if that is more your speed. Or the basketball team, with those legs they are going to want you for sure!”

I had a feeling that Victoria would have continued like this for a while, if the early bell hadn’t rung that moment. Instead, her listing of activities was cut short.

“Oh, fudge! I’m going to be late. See you later, sorry, bye.” The girl hurried out over her shoulder while she was already storming down the corridor, almost barrelling over some other students in the process. “Sorry!”

I shook my head imperceptibly and headed into the classroom. I had a sense that Arcadia High was going to be an experience.

The morning classes went by fine, with the only awkward moment being the obligatory introduction song and dance that every newcomer was forced to do. But I had just kept it to the minimum: “I’m Taylor, I like to read, I think capes are cool,” that everyone said in some shape or form. The classes themselves were almost relaxing, now that I didn’t have to worry about the Trio anymore. The fact that I had spent some time reading the coursework had also helped. Nothing we discussed so far was outside of my wheelhouse, and the teachers seemed a lot more engaging than the ones at my old school.

Not that that was a high bar to clear.

By the time the bell rang for lunch, I had all but forgotten about Victoria’s invitation. I had been quite certain that it had just been a ‘try to make the new girl feel welcome’ kind of thing anyways. So, I hadn’t been prepared at all for Victoria to shout across the entire cafeteria to get my attention.

“Taylor! Over here!”

The sudden stares were enough to make me want to slink out into the hallway in search of a particularly desolate washroom. But I had the inkling that Glory Girl would hound me down if I turned tail.

Instead, I straightened my back, held my head high and wiped the scowl from my face. I did my best to put on a casual air as I walked over to her table, as if getting invited to the popular kids table was an everyday occurrence for Taylor Hebert.

“Uhm, hi, Victoria,” I forced out when I reached the table, suddenly feeling a bit tongue tied. Victoria sat at the centre of the table, a ring of beautiful girls and boys arrayed around her, and every one of them was currently staring at me. I felt like some peasant begging for a moment’s attention from a queen.

Oh, God, Victoria in a Victorian Era dress. Her tiny waist would look stunning in a corset, not to mention her cleavage. If she wore something like that here, the PRT would probably enact Master-Stranger protocol because of all the horny guys and girls.

...and I was doing it again. Damn Taylor! What was up with me today?

“Sit down, Taylor!” Victoria offered the free chair next to her.

I did as I was told and slumped down in the indicated seat.

“Oh, do you need to get something first?” She asked, pointing towards the various food stations, “I can recommend the Lasagne.” As if to prove her point, Victoria took a large bite from something that could vaguely be described as the Italian dish. Though not to say that it looked bad, it was more because of what Victoria had done to it. Was that f*cking ketchup?!

She must have seen a hint of disgust on my face, as she half-hunched over her plate as if to hide her transgression against high cuisine from my sight.

“My body needs the sugar,” she all but squeaked, earning her a peal of laughter from the mousy girl seated opposite of her.

“Hey! Stop that! Don’t be mean!”

"You, ha, should have, hahaha, seen your face, ha, Vicky,” the laughing girl pressed out between short bursts of uncontrolled laugher.

“The jokester is my sister, Amy,” Victoria explained, still glaring daggers at her apparent sister.

“And what I meant to say is, that the food here is a bit lean for me. My power burns a lot of calories.”

“That’s not how powers work, Vicky.”

Amy shook her head, face brimming with mirth.

“You can just admit to being a sugar fiend, no one will care. At least no one important.”

Victoria eyed her curiously, “I think Carol would care.”

“I stand by my statement,” Amy’s words were accompanied by a careless shrug.

That earned her another long stare from her sister, before she too shrugged, turned back to me and returned to her earlier question. “So? Need something? The line will only get longer.”

I shook my head and dug around in my new backpack. After a moment of awkward silence, I found my lunch and laid it out on the table. It wasn’t anything special, a homemade sandwich which had seen better days as it had somehow found its way to the bottom of the bag. A nice, green apple that promised to be as crisp as it would be tart, and a bottle of water I had refilled at the fountain out back.

“I’ve brought something,” I muttered.

Way to state the obvious, go Taylor.

The entire thing reinforced the feeling from earlier. I really was a peasant among nobility.

“I didn’t really know what the options were going to be,” I tried to think of an excuse that didn’t involve us being poor and the homecooked option being way cheaper than a lunch card at f*cking Arcadia High. “The food selection at Winslow was usually quite poor.”

Which wasn’t a lie. Even before the Trio had driven me out of the canteen, I usually brought my own food. At least then I would get something that hadn’t seen a fryer at some point in its life.

“Oh,” Victoria perked up, “you can check out the menu for the next two weeks on the Arcadia High homepage.” She slipped out a sleek phone that made me slightly envious. Not of the phone itself, I had mixed feelings about those things, but that her family could afford something like that. That smart phone could probably run circles around my old desktop.

“Here, look,” she said, and shoved her phone into my face. I took it after the third energetic motion of hers, afraid that it would slip her grasp and brain someone.

I took a quick look at the display then went to return it to her. The menus looked nice and far healthier than the fare at my old school. It even had a list of allergens included. But just as I had expected, the selection was rather pricy. I could prepare two, maybe three lunches for the price of one.

“Cool,” I said, trying to figure out how to get out of this one. Nothing came to mind, so I just let my words trail off, like a moron.

“Why don’t you enter your number?” Victoria offered me a soft smile, “so we can keep in touch. You never know when you could come across a kitten in a tree that needs rescuing.”

I chuckled weakly at what I assumed was a joke. Though I could easily imagine Glory Girl with a white cat in her arms as she descended from the tree tops. The tips of her boots slightly pointed towards the floor, her golden locks moving in the wind, and the hem of her skirt playfully fluttering over those toned, white thighs...

“Taylor?” Victoria asked, interrupting my train of thought.

I sighed internally. Was I so touch starved that I turned the first gorgeous girl that was nice to me into an obsession?! Way to thank her, Taylor.

The concern on her face deepened into a frown before I remembered to answer her.

“I don’t have a mobile phone,” I finally said, trying to wrest back some semblance of control over myself.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

I assumed that it would be over with that. Who wanted to deal with the loser that didn’t even have a phone in the current year. The Amish, that’s who.

So, I was caught completely off guard by her next words.

“You surely have a landline?” She asked, still with the same smile in place on her face.

I could do nothing but haltingly nod. My fingers flew easily over the display, after all the ‘training’ my father put me through I could input our phone number from muscle memory alone. I glanced at it quickly to check for errors, and when I found none, I returned the phone to her.

“Thanks!”

Chapter 2: To Bravely Fantasize

Chapter Text

Not much more happened after that. I busied myself with eating my slightly soggy sandwich, and afterwards ate the apple which was as tasty as I had expected. I did so as slowly as possible without looking weird, and it had the desired effect of making me partly invisible. At least in relation to the conversations happening around me.

After the excitement of my impromptu audience, the predictable slog of the school day was most welcome, and it gave me the time to recentre myself. Glory Girl had my phone number. No biggy. Not like she would ever bother to actually call me.

It was a foolish bit of self-delusion. It was pretty clear that she had been set onto me. So, I would probably have to deal with her once or twice more before she realised how boringly ordinary I am.

The day went on without any of the usual incidents, which made me feel like I was experiencing some kind of twisted Earth Aleph version of my life. Whenever I heard movement behind me, I stiffened with the expectation of a spit ball and whenever I heard a giggle from somewhere around me, I prepared myself for a snippy statement pointed at me. But each and every time I was disappointed. No one gave me any undue attention, not even for the stunt Victoria pulled at lunchtime.

Apparently, shouting over the din of the canteen wasn’t unusual for her.

Come to think of it, that seemed very in tune with Glory Girl.

I was still ruminating on these thoughts when I walked out of my last class of the day. Still somewhat unbelieving that I had survived an entire day at a new school, and the only thing that came to mind was ‘mostly eventless’. It was just a tad bit unbelievable and made me kind of skittish. I was ready for the other shoe to drop, and drop hard, as it had always done whenever there had been a break in the bullying.

I tried to calm myself with the knowledge that the Trio was far from here, almost on the other side of the city and unlikely to have any reach in Arcadia High. Although... with Emma’s modelling I couldn’t be sure. Maybe she had been rubbing shoulders with a bunch of the students here at a fashion shoot.

It was a worrying prospect that could all to easily be true. I took a moment to check out the people in the hallway. Were any of them looking at me in a knowing way? Or maybe laughing behind my back?

Nothing.

There were plenty of people walking down the hall, but none of them paid me any attention. Not the tall brunette talking to a group of her fashionable friends, not the guy with the buzz cut that could be used as a marine stand-in and not the blond with the phenomenal ass that had just passed me by.

I stopped short for a moment, then returned my eyes to the aforementioned derriere.

Wow.

So that is what people meant when they said bubble butt.

Was that even allowed? Arcadia High didn’t have a dress code, but I couldn’t believe that the girl’s pants didn’t strain some rule. The jeans looked painted on, like there was no way that she could actually put them on and off without having to rip open a seam. The denim gripped her cheeks in a way that made the perky buttocks look like they constantly fought against the fabric, and the placement of the seams supported and separated her ass cheeks at the same time. Every step was an entrancing dance of muscles and flesh that made it impossible to look away.

Watching them, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering how those buttocks would feel in my hands. Would they be hard, betraying the powerful muscles below, or would they still retain that certain softness an ass promised? Would her ass still be as perky without the pants?

Would she like it if I dug my fingers into her flesh? When I pulled her down over my lap, would she smirk at me, daring me to spank her?

I could all but see it before me. The blonde sprawled over my thighs, her tight ass the apex of her prostrate form. I would order her to count the smacks, and to thank me for each of them. I wouldn’t tell her how many to expect, instead I would listen to her giggles as they slowly turned into moans, and then yowls of pain. But I would know her limits, and just keep her there, dancing up on the ledge until I had my fill. Until she convinced me that she made up for some mistake, we both knew was made up.

Only then, would I let my hand slip into the valley between her cheeks. I would tease the sensitive skin below her tailbone, and then slowly wander southwards, trailing the skin with the tips of my fingers and occasionally with the edge of my nails. A threat, a warning and a promise all in one.

I was brought back to reality by the look on the girl’s face. At some point the girl must have glanced over her shoulder, and she must have found an inkling of the direction my thoughts had taken on my face. Then hers was bright with a blush that brought the smattering of cute freckles into stark relief. Her bottle green eyes were blown wide open, and her lips formed a wide, shocked O.

We stared at each other for a long moment, then the girl’s head snapped back around, and she hurried down the corridor at a speed that was close to running.

As I watched her go, I released a long-held breath. First Victoria, and now this! I really had to get this, whatever it was, under control. I didn’t want to develop a reputation as the lesbo creep of Arcadia High.

The car ride back home with my dad was as awkward as I had expected it to be. I had told my father that the day went fine, but considering the frequent glances he shot me, it was clear that he wasn’t sure if I had told him the truth.

I couldn’t really begrudge him the suspicion. Only learning in the hospital that your daughter had been bullied for well over two years, and then only because she was almost killed in an act of bioterrorism did that to you.

At the moment, there would be no way to convince him that I had been truthful. Only time would heal that kind of wound. Even knowing that, it still peeved me. I had never lied to him, I had just not told him about things he couldn’t have changed anyways. Not with the backingSophia had received from the school because of her track-star medals and with Alan ‘The Lawyer’ Barnes in the corner of his daughter. His complains would never have reached the right people. Only something like the locker could have done that.

Dinner that evening was a quick affair. With him having to drive from the docks to Arcadia High and then back again to our home, neither of us had much energy to cook something. Instead, we just grabbed some take-out on our way back.

The meal that followed was a bit better than the car ride. I told him some more about my day, recounting my meeting with Victoria, which seemed to settle some of his nerves.

Once I felt like I had satisfied my daughterly duties, I excused myself from the table and hurried up to my room. As I pulled the door closed behind me, I felt like a heavy weight was slipping from my shoulders. Finally, I had some quiet.

I took a few deep breaths, relishing the peace that enveloped me, then lumbered over to my bed. I plonked down and slid over until I was lying flat on my back. I was tired, but also weirdly happy. Tomorrow suddenly didn’t look so daunting anymore. I had made it an entire day at a new school, and while challenging in its own way, it had been one of the best days I had in years.

A future seemed suddenly possible again. Finishing school, getting a degree, going to college... A career.

The thoughts felt almost alien, like I was thinking about being able to fly in the future.

I smiled, these days that expression could really turn out to become true.

Though not for me. I already had a power, an incredible useless one. My mood soured a bit at the thought. A useful power would have been the cherry on the top. Maybe something that would let me fly and drift in the winds. I imagined that it would be quiet up there, relaxing. To fly... it meant to escape.

Would have been nice, even if it wasn’t needed anymore.

I let my mind wander after that. I had no pressing matters to attend to, no more legalese to dig through, no homework yet and no duties around the house.

Then why did I feel like I was missing something. Something was niggling at the back of my head, a thought seeking a way to the stage of my mind. I dug at it with metaphorical fingers. Shock filtered through me when my thoughts caught on something. Whatever it was, it felt almost crystallin in nature. Sharp edges that were almost like glass, shaped in a form that just didn’t want to make sense. I pulled and pushed my thoughts against it, only sensing it by where it redirected the flow of my thoughts. I intensified my onslaught until something gave under the mental pressure. The metaphorical crack was like thunder in my head and sent my thoughts reeling.

Once the bout of dizziness passed, something unfolded in my mind, whispering secrets to the darkest recesses of my consciousness.

Sudden realization struck me. I could do something. I sprung from the bed in a hurry and moved over to my desk. I took a moment to turn on the little desk lamp and swiped my arm over the tabletop to make some room, paying no heed to the sound of crinkling paper. Then I sat down and let myself fall into these new instincts. My hands formed a circle with barely any input from my side, fingers and thumbs touching. I stared at the circle for a long moment with furrowed brows, concentrating on something that almost felt like a long lost muscle that just now came back to my awareness.

It took me a second or two, but I finally managed to make something happen. The air inside the circle of my flesh seemed to almost ripple, then a reddish light appeared and from it fell a strange powder. The effect didn’t last for more than a breath or two, and when it finished only a small pile of black dust with a blood red tint remained.

I glared at the pile of powder. That was it?

I had really gotten the short end of the stick, didn’t I.

Sighing, I extended a finger towards the powder. Maybe I could do something useful with it?

“Yeah, right,” I snorted. With my luck this was the extent of my power. Watch out evil doers, the Pocket Sand Lady is on your trail.

Still, though, I poked the sand with some measure of hope. Maybe I could make it fly or something. Sand blasters could really tear into stuff and a sand cloud could be useful. After all, that would still be better than this new cape with the black smoke.

But no matter how much I focused on the sand, nothing moved, not a single tinsy, tiny, grain.

Yeah, I figured. I sat back in my chair and tried to push back my disappointment. This couldn’t really be it... On PHO they always said that all powers had some use in combat. Every last one. I doubted that, that would change with me. I wasn’t nearly special enough for that. I chuckled, saved by mediocracy. So, if I couldn’t move the powder, and could only make such a limited amount of it, then I reckoned that it had to be useful in some form. Maybe it would grant a powerup if ingested?

Oooor... It might be a deadly poison.

I scratched the back of my head. I’d have to test it in some form.

After a moment of thought, an idea came to me. Arcadia High had chem labs, maybe I could check it out there after school. If someone were to notice me, I could just claim that I found some stuff in the attic and was curious what it was.

I quickly found a small, empty bottle and a piece of paper that would make an easy makeshift funnel and quickly transferred the powder from my desk into the container. I put the bottle into my pack, so that I wouldn’t forget in the morning, turned off my lamp and headed back to bed. I closed my eyes, and for the first time in a long while, felt excited for the next day.

The next day was uneventful, which was an astounding thing to be able to claim. It reminded me a bit of the holidays my parents and I went on, back when my mother was still with us. To walk around unburdened by worry and fear, was unbelievable relaxing. It felt almost like a dream.

At lunch I was again invited to join Victoria, Amy and friends. This time it felt a bit more like just eating with, hopefully, future friends and less like some sort of inquisition. Some of the shine of ‘newness’ must have come off over the last day, then few of the people at the table paid attention to me. At the same time, they didn’t exclude me from their conversations, which was nice of them. Even though I didn’t know any of the names they were talking about. Besides Victoria and Dean, of course.

I didn’t stay long with them, though. Instead, I scarved down my lunch and then excused myself so that I could quickly hurry over to the labs.

I was just about to head inside one of the chemistry laboratories when a group of girls stepped out of the lavatories a few metres down the hall. They didn’t seem to notice me at first, so I had some time to study them. Little stood out besides the fact that they were dressed to the nines in designer clothes that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. For my entire life.

I quickly stepped to the side and tried to vanish between the lockers lining the walls. Girls like that spelled trouble, at least that was what movies told me. And Emma...

The group stood there for a moment, and then headed my way, apparently heading for the canteen. Just as the group passed me, the girl from yesterday slipped out of the facilities with a little notebook and pen in hand. She wrote something down into it, with a satisfied smile firmly in place on her face. Oddly enough, the smile reminded me of the photograph of a fox with a hen in its teeth, which I had seen a while back.

My eyes lingered on her. She looked really nice. A nice pair of pants that sadly were a bit looser than yesterdays, a black spaghetti top with a red and black striped flannel shirt thrown over it for warmth. It was still very early in spring, after all. The ensemble was topped off with a small, black choker.

She looked comfortable in it. I felt a tinge of envy. I doubted that I could pull of that style of dress without looking like some sad hipster wannabe.

But she pulled it off well. On her, the flannel didn’t look dated or like she was trying too hard. Instead, it made her look like a girl that a romantic interest would meet in a quaint little village found in the centre of a large forest. A cheeky woodland creature that would beckon the burnt-out main character into a cozy clearing and reignite his love for life.

I could almost see it. Bottle green eyes that glint with hidden mirth, framed by a shock of wild, strawberry blond hair. She would lead the way, dancing barefoot on impossible soft moss. Suddenly, she would hurry ahead and vanish when the main character wasn't looking. Only her faint laughter would tell of her passing. When the main character would finally find her in the clearing, she would be lounging on a rock, wearing nothing but a mischievous smile, a pair of soft looking, reddish brown fox ears, a tail artistically laid out over the curve of her ass and a burgundy leather collar with white lettering.

Vixen, it would say.

I would walk up to her and slide two fingers under the collar and gently pull her head up to meet my lips. We would kiss with fervour until our lungs would burn from a lack of air. At that point, she would bite my lip, like a cat that was cuddled for a second too long for its liking. I would rear back and glare at the vixen, but she would only return my look with an impish one of her own. I would growl, take a step closer and wrap a hand around her silken neck.

Luckily for her, I knew how to tame a bratty little minx.

I was torn from my reverie by a weird sound, something between a yelp and a gasp. My vision refocused and travelled over the form of the blonde until I looked at her face. The stranger’s eyes were blown wide, and her face almost glowed red from a blush that threatened to devour her whole. We stared at each other for a long, long moment, then the girl turned around and sprinted down the hallway away from me.

I took of my glasses and sighed heavily into my other hand.

“f*ck!” I exclaimed to the desolate corridor. I had done it again.

Why was this happening now? And, could I go to the councillor with this? They had all but begged me to set up a regular meeting with the therapist that had regular office hours at this school. I had refused, I just wanted to be done with all the sh*t involving the Trio. I didn’t want to talk about my feelings with some stranger that would never really get it. How could they...

But maybe they could help me with this...

Yeah, right...

As if I was going to sit down in an office at school to tell some middle aged therapist all about my intrusive sexual phantasies that plagued me. No, I would have to handle this by myself. If I could deal with two years of bullying, then I could deal with this.

Now then, I should really get back on track. The corridor was empty, and so was the lab. I quickly slipped through the door and stole over to the microscopes. Then I stopped and glared at them for a long moment. Why again did I think this was a good idea? I knew nothing about chemistry. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true, I could recognize some of the base elements, like sulphur, copper and carbon. But I didn’t even know how to use a microscope properly, Winslow hadn’t trusted us with anything beyond theory.

Or maybe the teacher had sold of the equipment to fuel his alcoholism.

I could probably figure out how the tool worked, but then what? I doubted that a closer look would help me figure this stuff out. Like wow, you now see the powder at ten times the resolution, that’s going to help a lot. Great going, Taylor. I rolled my eyes at my stupidity and returned to the corridor. I would have to figure out something else.

Wasn’t there a tinker in the wards? Maybe I could slide this to him in some form, he would probably know how to figure this stuff out.

No, that was also a stupid plan.

I sighed and turned back towards my next classroom. I would think some more about it later, for now I should concentrate on school.

By the time I was back in my room, with a belly full of hot food, I had all but forgotten about the frustration from earlier in the day. I was in the middle of my math homework, drawing the symbol for sum, when that feeling of inspiration suddenly struck again.

Symbols... No, runes. I could do stuff with runes. Before I could question myself, I grabbed the schoolbag from the floor next to me and retrieved the vial of powder hidden within its yawning depths. With the powder in hand, I realized that I needed some more things, water for one.

Frantically, I moved my half-finished homework to the side and grabbed my glass of water. I spilled some of it onto the smooth surface of the desk, where it formed a tiny puddle. Almost by themselves, my hands opened the bottle and spilled most of the powder into the water. I watched it mixing with the water for a moment, then accelerated the process with the tip of my finger.

The two substances mixed well, the powder was so fine, that it almost seemed to dissolve in the water, colouring it a muddy red.

I grinned at it, now I could get to work. I slipped a safety pin from my backpack, happy that I had started to carry them at all times. You never knew when the Trio ripped a hole into something, and you had to fix it to prevent something humiliating from happening. Without a seconds hesitation I dipped the point of the needle into the mix, and then pressed it into the skin of my opposite upper arm.

The pain came as a shock.

What the hell was I doing?! I stared at the pinprick of colour blooming on my skin. Had I just tattooed myself? I had seen some skinheads at Winslow do stuff like this. The outcome had inevitably been as shoddy as it had been racist.

I knew why they did it – to show that they belonged to E88 – but why was I doing this?!

As if something in the back of my head had been waiting for this question, knowledge bloomed into my consciousness. The powder was a carrier for some form of energy. Tattoos and items made from it could channel this energy into a useful form, that would strengthen and defend its user.

Holy sh*t.

I was a trump.

Oh god.

I fretted for a minute as I tried to make sense of my rampaging thoughts. From what I knew, trumps were rare and highly sought after, as they were a force multiplier that could elevate an average cape into something to be reckoned with.

If the gangs caught wind about this, they would come knocking faster than the IRS after making an error in your filings.

I would have to be extremely careful.

When my heartrate had calmed somewhat, I directed my thoughts back to the hidden cache of knowledge lurking at the back of my head. Okay, what could I do? Runes flashed before my inner eye, complete with a maddingly vague explanation. The runes seemed to be less a language and more a reflection of a concept. Strength, Speed, Trueness of form, and so on.

That last one was a bit strange, the closest thing I could liken it to was something I once heard from a motivational speaker: To become the best version of yourself.

I put my needle down and grabbed a pen.

There was potential here, but I had a feeling that I would have to be careful. Just like with programming, if you didn’t have a plan to start with, the result would be an ugly mess with the potential to really screw things up. I shuddered at the thought. What would happen if I tattooed the rune for strength on my arm? Would it affect my whole body, or just a single muscle? Would the result be smart and improve my tendons too? Or would it leave me with overpowered muscles that would tear my tendons and smash my own bones at the slightest flex?

I wasn’t willing to test that on my own body. I would need something as foolproof as possible before I started tattooing myself.

I grabbed a fresh notebook and started scribbling. First, I listed all the runes that moved around in my head. With each one that I wrote down, something calmed inside me and a pressure I hadn’t even noticed lifted from me.

After I put the last rune to paper, I started thinking about combinations. I didn’t have many runes to play with, which made the whole endeavour a lot easier, though I had the feeling that a lot more were still in that cache of knowledge I seemed to access from time to time.

But that didn’t matter now, I was happy to work with the tools I had.

The only question now was what I wanted to do first. I would need something that was as inconspicuous as possible, at least until I had a good understanding of this power and enough powerups in place to protect myself from overeager recruiters.

For now, survival would be the most important aspect.

I tapped the back of my pen against the rune for fortitude. That would be a good start, especially if I combined it with strength and that weird rune that meant ‘trueness of form’. I had an inkling that the last one would prevent anything too crazy from happening.

I started to write out the rune-word I was planning. It wasn’t as straightforward as one would expect. Unlike with other languages, one couldn’t just write them one after the other. That would just lead to three separate runes, no, to form a rune-word each rune had to be changed slightly and interlinked with the other runes in a specific way. Why I knew this, I had no idea, and each time I tried to think about what I was doing intense pain lanced through my head.

It would have to remain a mystery for now.

It took me over an hour to craft the word, but by the time I had finished, I was sure that it would work. A deep feeling of rightness flowed through me every time a glanced at the word drawn on the page before me.

Slowly, I dipped my needle into the ink that somehow hadn’t dried out in the meantime and set out to give myself my first tattoo. My shaky fingers stilled with the first flare of pain, and my mind drifted off into an almost meditative stillness.

Birds were chirping by the time I put the needle down. I wouldn’t get much sleep before I would have to head off to school, but for once that didn’t bother me all that much. My eyes were fixed on the burgundy tattoo that graced my upper arm. It was perfect. Far nicer than something a first timer with a safety pin should ever be able to do. The lines were straight, the curves curvy and the colour equally applied over the entire expanse of the marking.

I slid a thumb over it, which barely hurt. If I had needed any further proof of this being a power, the fact that a fresh tattoo looked like something that had been there for months would have done it.

A wide smile appeared on my face. Not so useless after all. Even if my power did nothing more than this, I could make a fortune by selling tribal tattoos. The Norse fanatics among the E88 alone would pay for my university tuition.

With that thought I stumbled over to the bed. I would figure out the rest tomorrow.

Chapter 3: A Foxy Gambit

Chapter Text

The next morning was almost hellish enough to make me regret my long night. I was certain that I had closed my eyes just about when my alarm clock started ringing. I was dead tired and the only thing that managed to force me out of bed was the fear of proving my naysayers true. Not that anyone had said anything about me not belonging into Arcadia High, but I was sure that there had been some people that weren't completely happy with my transfer.

So, instead of just rolling over and catching another few hours of sleep, I stumbled out of bed, releasing a pained groan as I did so. My head was pounding. Whatever that bout of inspiration was yesterday, it had certainly taken its toll on my poor brain.

Hopefully a shower would make me feel better, or at least not like something the cat dragged in. After a long shower, which consisted mostly of me standing under the flow of hot water and trying not to keel over, I stepped out of the tub and in front of the steamed up mirror. I swiped at it with my towel and smiled as my eyes caught on the new tattoo. This was going to need some getting used to, but at least I wouldn’t have any difficulty with hiding it. I’ve already accrued a reputation for wearing overly loose clothing, so I wouldn’t even have to change my way of dress.

I shuffled down the stairs and into the kitchen with all the grace of a newly risen zombie and greeted my father with a nod. I winced, as my headache made itself known again.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, worry etched clear on his face. I sighed internally, couldn’t that man find a middle ground?

“Fine,” I forced out, “just been busy with homework and didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

He tried to pin me down with his gaze, but I avoided it artfully by opening the fridge in my search for something to eat. I fished out some butter and jam, as I was in no mood to cook something for myself.

“You know that you can talk to me if something is bothering you?”

“Yes, dad.”

Another pause.

“Do you want a lift to school?”

Did I want one? I would have to talk more to him, which was probably his intention, but at least I wouldn’t have to bother with the bus. Though was that worth it?

Yes, I decided.

“Sure.”

I finished my breakfast quickly, and only twenty minutes and one uncomfortable car ride later, found me at Arcadia High. I pushed past the throngs of people and hurried to my locker. I had chemistry first thing in the morning, and after that came maths. Both were subjects that had suffered at Winslow under the endless attacks of the Trio. Towards the end I had barely even done my homework. Why bother if it got destroyed before I could hand it in.

So, I couldn’t spare any thoughts on what happened the day before. Neither could I do so during lunch, as I was roped into another lunch session with Victoria. She had seemingly remembered my existence and had spent the entire lunch period talking to me about the date she had the day before. What she wanted from me, I wasn’t entirely sure about. It wasn’t like I had any experience with dating, nor did I feel qualified to speak about her boyfriend. He seemed nice enough from a distance, and I hadn’t spoken more than my name to him.

But still, I had made some affirmative noises from time to time, and that seemed to be enough for Victoria. Although, I had been slightly worried when she had started talking about double dates.

By the time I could excuse myself, the early bell for history had rung and I just managed to hurry over to the right classroom in the brink of time.

Now history was something I was somewhat decent at. At the level we were at, you didn’t really have to understand it, just be able to repeat it. Which was easy enough, since I had spent a lot of the class times just reading ahead in the history books, instead of trying to listen to the teacher at Winslow.

For that reason, I found myself to be slightly ahead of the curve and was able to spend some time thinking.

The tattoo was in place, and I was certain that it was correct. But so far, nothing seemed to have happened. I still felt the same, in fact, I felt slightly worse than before the late night art marathon. So, what gives? Shouldn’t I be feeling some kind of improvement? Or did it take more than a few hours to kick in? If that were the case, then I would be more like a tinker, then your average trump. Not something that I was entirely happy with.

It added just more time for something to go wrong, and for me being discovered without some protections in place.

I sighed, there wasn’t really much I could do about it.

Also, maybe that wasn’t even the case anyways. So far nothing pointed one way or the other. Maybe there was just some activation phrase or thing missing. If that was the case, then I was sure I would learn of it soon enough. Just like I learned the other stuff so far.

Hell, that was quite likely, now that I was thinking about it. The thing in the back of my head had, so far, been very piecemeal about the knowledge it had given me. And considering the lingering headache, probably for good reason.

I resolved to just wait for another few days before I tried something more drastic.

Satisfied with my conclusions, I stepped out of the class room and right into my metaphorical mouth. The blond girl was there, right in front of me. She was squatting next to an open locker, her arms held out in front of her as another girl piled book after book on them.

My eyes were pulled to her pert ass as if by magnets.

“Oh, no,” I whispered. She wore dark-grey yoga pants. Stretchy yoga pants. Pants that were currently stretched to their limit by that delectable, squatting ass. So much in fact, that I could make out the shadow of her colourful underwear.

Who the f*ck wears something like that to class.

A bad girl, that’s who.

A girl that wanted to arouse the attention of her strict teacher. One that was in dire need of some remedial lessons in what was appropriate and what wasn’t. Luckily for her, this teacher was willing to put in the overtime needed to bring her back on the straight and narrow, through the liberal application of humiliation and discipline.

The first step with a troublemaker like that was to separate her from the pack. Otherwise, any kind of progress would be lost the next time their slu*tty little posse came back together. After school detention was a good tool to achieve that. It would not only keep the girl out of trouble but will also afford us plenty of one on one time to work on her behaviour.

The little thing would surely bring an attitude to her first detention, so it would be of importance to make her forget about that as soon as possible. When the missy would waltz into the room, I would be ready with some more appropriate clothes. A proper white blouse, thigh-high white socks and a short pink plait skirt. Usually, a longer skirt would be primmer, but at the beginning a short one made things easier. I was sure that the unruly student would give me ample opportunity to make use of my wooden ruler.

With a short one I could quickly order her into position – bent over with her legs kept straight and shoulder wide apart, either leaning against a desk or the blackboard – and flip her skirt up onto the small of her back. Then, with her pert buttocks exposed, I could beat some sense into her. One smack at the time.

Of course, the slu*tty thing would earn herself a good twenty smacks with the ruler right at the start. Ten for the twenty seconds she was late, and another ten for her obscene lack of panties.

It was clearly a good thing that I had gotten to her when I did. She was probably already giving out blowj*bs behind the bleacher for a tenner, and it wouldn’t be long before she graduated to selling out that needy snatch of hers. After that... It would only be a matter of time before she got turned into a breeding sow for the E88. That amber hair and fair skin was like catnip to that scum.

Because of that, I would make her thank her magnanimous teacher for each swat of the ruler on those beautiful cheeks. Each yowl the ruler would tease out of her would indicate some of her badness leaving her.

Once the twenty smacks were done with and her ass would glow red, the girl would understand. She would want to thank her caring teacher. She would kneel before me and push her face towards me like I was the first glimpse of the sun after a long winter. Tear tracks would mare her face with black streaks, a visual reminder of the progress of her rehabilitation.

I would sit in my chair, legs spread, and then motion for her to worship at her shrine to a better future as a good girl.

She would lean forward and leave a smattering of butterfly like kisses all over my high-heels. Her lips would trail up my Cuban stockings, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.

And then... she would slowly slip below my knee-length skirt and onwards to the treasures kept hidden within its depths...

But before my salacious fantasy could go any further, I was rudely interrupted by a violent exclamation from the object of my desire.

“For the love of Scion?!” the blonde shouted and surged into my direction. The books she had carried fell around her, all but forgotten. Her face was as red as a tomato, and her eyes were wild with barely contained emotions.

I took a step back from her, my back slamming into the closed door behind me.

She matched me stride for stride until her face was little more than a hand span away from mine.

“Either you get the f*ck away from me,” the girl barked at me, sending bits of spittle spattering across my face, “or you slam me against that locker and kiss me,” her eyes twitched over to the locker next to the door. “But by all that is holy, stop f*cking teasing me.”

I blinked at her as she glared expectantly at me, and wondered if I had heard her right, or if this was still part of one of my fantasies that had gotten away from me.

Though, my body didn’t seem to have the same issues with indecision. I watched my hands – feeling like I was caught in a dream – close around her shoulders. They were surprisingly warm, I noticed, even through the layer of her top. And swung the girl around until I had her pressed gently against the locker next to the door.

My body was calm, but inside I was hyperventilating. The world had a dreamlike quality to it, like I had just woken from a deep sleep, or like that one time I had fallen from the tree in Emma’s backyard and hadn’t been able to draw breath for the next few seconds.

I felt like a bystander in my own body, as I drew closer to the other girl. My eyes whispered over her face, almost hoping for a sign of rejection. Anything, really, that would pull me back in front of the wheel, so that I could abort the approaching disaster.

But there was nothing, only a growing anticipation.

And then it was happening. My head inched forwards and our lips finally met.

If someone who knew about her power were to ask Lisa why she didn’t date, she would tell them that her super intuition turned her off people. But that would be a lie. In reality, it was a bit more complicated than that. She’d been a teenage girl by the time she had gained her power. She had already known that far too many people were far too interested in her body.

She had spent time hanging out with her classmates and knew very well what they were talking about. And she had been more than tech-savvy and curious enough to check out internet p*rn. Knowing what the guy or girl on the other end of the table wanted to do with her through her power wasn’t that different than what she could deduce just from where they were looking at.

Sure, she got far more detailed information through her powers, but most people weren’t that far out there. Once she realised that pretty much everyone had something going on for them, it just sorts of faded into the background. He liked the colour red, indulged a bit too much in late night cheese snacks and wanted to try anal. Although, he wouldn’t like the reality of it that much, which he knew deep down, but he wanted to keep the fantasy of it alive. So, he would most likely never actually try it.

In effect, it just made it way too easy for her to pick up new fetishes. Then while she got a lot of fantasies, she also got quite a bit information about things that people around her tried and enjoyed. And why they enjoyed it.

So, no, the reason for her lack of a love life was something else.

It was a number, ranging from negative one hundred to positive one hundred. A number that her power all so helpfully prepared for her and smashed her over the head with. In effect, it was little more than a compatibility rating the power created from the interactions she had with people.

A zero was the baseline, it signified a lack of romantic interest and marked people as generally safe. The old guy feeding the ducks in the park with peas? Zero, safe, he just watched her because she reminded him of his granddaughter and tried to keep an eye out for her.

The barista at the coffee shop she liked, zero, straight as an arrow and in a healthy, committed relationship.

Her favourite hairdresser? A big fat zero, she was far too young for him, the guy had decided from the first moment on.

She was quite happy with those numbers, they kept her safe and sane. It didn’t matter that the old-timer enjoyed the occasional pegging from his wife, that the barista dreamed of her boyfriend and his friends running a train on her, or that the hairdresser liked to dress up in a wig and a little black dress.

No, the problems started with the negative numbers. Those were the dangerous ones. In the upper ranges, they warned her about people that wanted to use her, or that wouldn’t be a good match for her, and a relationship with which would end in tears.

The middle ranks were filled with the handsy ones, those that wouldn’t take ‘No’ for an answer and those that would try to pressure her into acts she wanted no part of. Below them came the rapists and those that would take advantage of a girl out of it.

Anything below that was usually vile to an inhuman degree. So far, she had only once encountered someone below negative eighty, and that monster was the reason why she was safely ensconced in Arcadia High and as far away from the boardwalk as possible. She had only caught a glimpse of the wiry, black man, but that had been enough to scare the bejesus out of her.

The things her powers had told her had been disturbing to the highest degree, and ever since she had done her best to keep as far away as possible from him. Which brought her to Arcadia High, and the implicit protection the hidden wards among the students extended to her. Beyond just the power of the capes, there were additional safeguards here. For one, there were undercover PRT personnel scattered all over the grounds. The janitors could handle more than just a mop, and the equipment they had squirreled away might look like vacuum cleaners, but they were far more likely to spit than to suck.

Finally, there were the safety measures developed by tinkers, like the jammer that blocked the local mobile network. She was also quite sure that Dragon or someone close to her checked the cameras now and then.

There was another upside to the school, which she had discovered only after she had attended for a few days. Plenty of rich folk sent their kids to Arcadia High, and they made for shockingly easy marks. The parents, mind you, not the teens. She made sure to get invited to all the interesting house parties and gather all the tiny little details about the families and their dealings. The things she learned were more than enough to set up a network of skimmers that stole just enough money not to get caught.

But the scale her power showed to her had also a positive side. As far as she could tell, anything below a fifteen was little more than idle attraction. At best good for a single night, but more likely it wouldn’t even get there without Lisa aiming for that. There was just too little overall interest. Which was interesting, it pointed at something unexpected, that her power ranked people for more than how much they wanted her. It involved compatibility, and how happy they would be together in the long run.

She skipped them, those with numbers that low. What was the point, they didn’t want anything deeper, and she would just put herself into a position where a person could maybe glean something dangerous about her.

The numbers above twenty were where it got more interesting. At this point, the interest seemed to pierce deeper than just carnality. The potential partners started to like her for who she was as a person, additionally to her looks.

But with a rating that low, her power was all but telling her that it wouldn’t last. Either she, or they would learn something about the other that would be a deal breaker. Honestly, she was quite sure that anything below a fifty wouldn’t work out. Her power gave her an inkling that anything above that cut-off would accept her power. Anything below that... They wouldn’t be able to deal with someone that could cold read them to the degree that Lisa could.

They would start to second guess each interaction until they convinced themselves that they got manipulated into a relationship. Each happy accident, each good guess about a like would be painted with the colour of intention. The relationship would shatter under that pressure.

So, that was the reason why she never dated. Why should she, if she knew that they were doomed to fail after exchanging a dozen sentences. And so far, she had never met anyone that broke into those coveted ranks that might make a lasting relationship possible.

She suspected that she would find someone like that only in the ranks of capes. Because the normies tended to be part of one of three camps. Those that feared her power for what it might reveal about them. Those that idolized her, the groupies that thought they would matter if they were with her. And finally, those that made her run from home. The ones that coveted her power and wanted to use her.

She was done being used.

She was done with clumsy attempts of manipulation or bribery. They wanted her for her power of deduction, without realizing how exposed their desires were to her. She held nothing but contempt for them.

So, the normies were pretty hopeless. The capes where an entirely different can of worms, one she did her best to avoid. Interactions between capes tended to attract attention, and attention would lead her right into the crosshairs of the skeletal man.

If she had to choose between being single or being slowly tortured to death by a textbook sociopath, she knew which one she would choose.

So, Lisa had resigned herself to a lonely few years.

This made what came next all the more disturbing.

She hadn’t thought much of it. It had been a Monday like any other. A litany of boring classes that she could test out of at the drop of a hat, where she spent more time on dumbing down her answers than figuring them out. Which, admittedly, didn’t say all that much, as the answers were basically written on the teacher’s face.

As usually, she had avoided the canteen. The dual whammy of a mass of people all but shouting their issues and secrets at her, and the knowledge of what was going on around the food stations was more than enough for her to find reason not to enter. Something about knowing how many people coughed on the food just soured her appetite.

Instead, she had spent the time on furthering her newest project, infiltrating the different school clubs that hung out in their rooms instead of in the breakroom.

In other words, the day went by as any other Monday in the last few weeks had.

At least until she walked the hallways at the end of the day.

Sometimes her power informed her about people watching her, even if she didn’t see them herself. It did so by picking up on the smallest details, the reflections in the window of a classroom door, the change in background noise, or the rustling of clothes as her observer changed their stance. Most often she just ignored the information. It happened frequently at school, and it was always either an idle observer, a jealous girl or a boy watching her ass.

This time though, her power was oddly insistent.

When she glanced back, her eyes came to rest on a tall girl with long, dark hair. The first thing that sprung to her mind upon seeing her, was ‘skittish’. Everything about her, the way of dress, how she was holding herself and where she stood shouted at Lisa that the girl tried to vanish into the background.

She didn’t get further than that, though, then the next moment her power hit her with a punch in the gut.

Usually, it just told her things, a narrator in the back of her skull. But this time it seemed dissatisfied with the limits that imposed. Instead, it pulled her into a vivid fantasy.

She could feel the warmth of a soft pair of thighs under her, the strength within the hand that pressed down on her back and could hear the angry swishing sound of something moving through the air. Before she could figure out that last one, fire scorched through her right butt cheek, accompanied by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

A yelp tore itself from her lips. She whipped her head around and glared at the smirking girl looming over her. She shot her best reproachful glare at her, but the girl’s smirk only widened.

The stranger’s arm rose again. She quickly screwed her eyes shut and braced herself for impact. A heartbeat passed, then another. When nothing happened, her body relaxed, only to be shocked back into tension by the swish and sting of the next slap. With that, the floodgates opened, and slap after slap rained down on her poor, exposed bum.

With the sting, came a deep seated heat that permeated her aching flesh. Slowly, it sunk deeper into her body until it formed a molten ball in her lower belly.

Her insides clenched and she tore free from the waking dream with a start.

Her body felt hot, and her face was sure to be flushed with blood.

She stared at the stranger, uncomprehending.

That had never happened before! She gulped, almost choking on her dry throat and mouth. Her jaw shut closed with the clack of teeth. Her power had told her about fantasies involving her often enough, but it had never, never! turned it into a 4D live performance. What was going on?

Breathe! She couldn’t freak out like this in the middle of school. That would raise to many questions.

Just as her racing heart started to slow a bit, her power delivered the coup de grâce. A number appeared in her mind.

96

She freaked the f*ck out.

Chapter 4: Time to glow-up

Chapter Text

Kissing was weird.

Was it supposed to be weird? Or was it just weird because I was the one doing it? Was I doing something that made it that way? Did I do something wrong?

Soft. My eyes fluttered closed. Okay, that was better. Her lips moved against mine, slick from a mixture of lip balm and salvia. Butterflies spread out from where our lips met, fluttering through me as if I were hollow. Their movement made me feel queasy and tingly, which was quite disconcerting. I wasn’t sure if I liked the feeling, but I was willing to give it a shot.

An arm slithered around my back and pulled me flush against the cute girl. I could feel her shape pressed against me even through the layers of my clothes. Her breasts pushed into my non-existing ones. Goaded onwards by her actions, my hands roved over her form. One twisted itself into her lovely hair, while the other one traced her back. My fingers bumped into the backstrap of her bra, sending a thrill of excitement screaming through my body.

The tingling intensified.

Our lips parted for a moment, then crashed back together. The weirdness I had felt was still there but had been relegated to the back of my mind. Probably just first kiss jitters, I thought, as I started to move my lips. I tried to mimic what the girl was doing to me, but I just felt clumsy. I doubted she was enjoying it much.

She probably wouldn’t want to kiss me again. I should probably stop and check in with her.

Our kiss continued.

Aaannyyyy moment now I was going to pull back.

The tip of her tongue poked at my thin lips, nothing like the girl’s wonderfully pillowy ones.

Hmm, maybe since she wouldn’t want to kiss me again, I should indulge. It could be a while before another girl might want to get this close to me.

I refocused my attention back on the kiss, which had gotten quite heated by this point. I pressed further into her, finally having recovered some control over my body. She was so warm and soft! I wanted to melt into her, become a part of this beauty that deigned to kiss me. I darted my tongue out, tasting her lips.

I groaned; this wasn’t enough. I wanted to worship her, I wanted to devour her, starting with her strawberry flavoured lips.

My stomach dropped as teeth grazed my lower lip. I wanted to vomit, or scream, or run, or do all of that at once.

“Ahem.”

We surged apart, suddenly aware of the mass of spectators we had attracted. A teacher stood next to us, looking not all too happy. He glanced at me, and his face softened a bit. He seemed to swallow the angry words that surely laid on his tongue, and instead said, “please remember the rules about PDA on the school grounds, Taylor and you, miss.”

“A quick kiss goodbye is allowed, but there will be no making out on school grounds.”

Making out? We were just kissing! I wanted to argue with him, but the stern glare he shot us slayed the words in my throat. He probably wouldn’t appreciate a discussion about semantics.

“Since your new, Taylor, I’m going to let this slide. But don’t make a habit of it!”

“Thank you, mister...,” I said meekly, kicking myself when I realised that I didn’t remember his name.

“Haddock,” he volunteered, “you were just in my history class.”

Oops, I winced, trying to do my best to ignore the giggles from the watching crowd.

“But you seemed a bit preoccupied... Try to not make it a habit, Taylor.”

He turned away from me and turned that scorcher of a glare onto the students lingering around. “I’m sure all of you have better things to do then dilly-dallying in a school hallway. Now git.”

Already, I liked him more than ‘Mister G’. He didn’t seem to care at all about the grumbling of the departing students. I doubted that Madison would have pulled half the stunts with a teacher like him around.

He watched the students go, then turned on us. “That includes the both of you.”

Yeah, he would have seen through Madison’s innocent lamb act in a heartbeat.

At that command, the girl I had just kissed slipped past me, but not before she pressed a slip of paper into my hand. She walked backwards for a few metres. I watched her bee-stung lips as she mouthed ‘call me’ and winked at me, then she turned around and stepped past the corner.

I had done that, I realised, thinking about her lips.

Without further prompting from Mr. Haddock, I started walking and then promptly fell on my face with my sweatpants wrapped around my legs. During our Mak... Kissing the drawstring of my pants must have come loose, and they had fallen down to my ankles after my first step. I tried to pull the pants back up as swiftly as possible, but the damn things had gotten tangled. So, I just flopped around on the linoleum floor like a beached whale while I tried to resolve the knot. By the time I managed it, I was blushing like crazy, and really, really glad that everyone but the teacher had already left.

If my terrible kissing hadn’t chased the girl away, then me spazzing around on the dirty floor would have done it for sure.

Mr. Haddock, to his credit, just gave me a straight-faced look, and then vanished back into his classroom without another word, or an offer of help.

Jup, I definitely liked that guy. I resolved to do my best in his class.

I hurried out of the school, my steps hastened by embarrassment and forgot all about the slip of paper. Only when I was safely ensconced within the bus home did I remember that I was still holding it in my hand. I unfolded it and straightened it out on the window. It read:

Call me! Tel: 034 567 421 56. Lisa.

I squealed, there was even a little heart instead of a dot over the ‘i’ in her name.

Lisa... What a cute name. Lisa, Lisa, Lisa. I smiled out of the window. It rolled right of the tongue. It was originally a German name, right? It invoked images of alps and sunshine. I pondered, happy to let the world drift past the window. The drive home took a while, since we had to cross basically the entire city. It would be faster with the ferry, but that hadn’t been active in years.

Germany... Octoberfest. Lisa would look great in a Dirndl, her hair in twin braids, her tit* spilling out of the top, a can of milk poised to spill creamy goodness all over them, mhm... A slight bite of her lower lip, and that mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Just like before she had dared me to kiss her.

I startled as I felt the press of my panty’s elastic on my fingers. I pulled them out of my pants with a vengeance. Holy hell, had I really almost touched myself on a bus? I really had to get this under control.

The rest of the drive home was tense. I tried to stay far away from any dirty thoughts, but inevitably my thoughts would start to drift back to the kiss I had shared with Lisa. From there it was a cat’s leap to something far, far beyond PG13. After the third or fourth time I had caught myself, I started to really wish for a smart phone. Those devices seemed like an endless font of distraction, something that I could use at the moment.

Finally, the trip came to an end. I stepped out of the bus and walked the last few metres to my house. I was full of anxious energy and my steps morphed into a half jog in no time. Maybe that was it, I realised. Some physical exertion would burn off some of that energy. If I was tired enough, there wouldn’t be as much room for all that horniness.

Ha, that was probably it. Ever since I had left Winslow behind, I didn’t need to invest as much energy into watching my surroundings, hiding and running. Without that outlet, my body just didn’t know what to do anymore.

A wide smile bloomed on my face and my steps gained some pep. A solution was on the horizon, a girl wanted me to call her, and the chances that she had been set up to this by Emma was minimal.

At my house, I just tossed my bag into the hall, picked up the bottle of mace and then left again. Out on the street I lengthened my steps until I was jogging at a pretty good clip. Stretching my legs felt amazing and the smile from earlier turned into a fixture for my jog. While the air was brisk, it was equally as refreshing. Snow and ice had left Brockton Bay a good while ago, so there was little risk of falling.

My jog took me towards the centre of the city, away from the more desolate streets. It would mean more pedestrians and cars, but at least I wouldn’t have to test myself against a would be rapist. Eh, or more likely a mugger. I had pushed my hair into my hoody to keep it contained, and without it on display there was a good chance that people would take me for a guy. I didn’t exactly have a lot of feminine traits...

But still, boardwalk or centre would be safer, which would make my dad happy.

As I zeroed in on the banking district, other joggers joined me on the roads. They seemed to have just started, as they were quite slow on their feet, and I often had to swerve around them as I pushed past. I forced myself to smile at them when I passed, even if they were a bit of an annoyance.

I didn’t notice that something was off until I recognized the large building ahead of me as the Central Library of Brockton Bay. It was a good distance away from home. Far enough that I usually took the bus, or at least a bicycle. Now, I didn’t doubt that I could walk all the way out here, but I was also certain that I couldn’t jog the distance in a single piece.

The Trio had trained me more as a sprinter than an endurance runner.

I stopped outside the library, just in front of the deserted stone benches. I had good memories of this place. I’d often come here with my mom and Emma, back before she had turned into a monster. During the warmer months it was a nice place to read, but with the current temperatures, the cold stone wasn’t very inviting.

Instead, I bent over and leaned on my knees to give my heart a moment to recover.

Then I realized that I wasn’t breathing all that hard. I put a duo of fingers against my pulse point. And neither was my pulse high, in fact, it was rather sedate. Had I been overdoing it and was now on the brink of passing out?

No, I felt fine, better than ever, actually.

I went to put my hands on my waist.

“Huh?”

That was a lot less waist than I remembered. I had always had a bit of a belly, that likened me to a frog standing upright. My curves had never been in the right place. Nothing in the bust, no hips, but a lovely muffin top.

Now, there remained nothing of that.

I blinked, then pulled my hoody and T-shirt up. The view that met me was disturbing. Why did I see abs? I touched them with shaky fingers, but they didn’t vanish as I had half suspected they would.

I flexed my belly and the abs moved in concert. Was it weird that I thought that disturbing. It was cool, mind you, but I also felt like I was in the body of a stranger. Like I had gained some stranger power that let me body hop. Now that I was concentrating on my body, I noticed other discrepancies. Like for one the way my T-shirt fit on my shoulders, or the feel of my legs.

I took a quick glance at my surroundings and found the little plaza mostly deserted. So, I quickly shucked my hoody. The act revealed the body of an athlete. Not only did I have the belly of a fitness model, but also her arms. I had visible muscles, but luckily, they weren’t anything like a bodybuilder’s. They were lean, giving me more of a runner’s body than a lifter’s figure. Only my shoulders hinted at my new strength. They had grown a bit wider, and I was sure that they would show quite the muscle play if viewed from behind.

My chest was mostly unchanged, as showcased by my bra, which still fit. Although, I was a bit afraid of moving too much, as the straps seemed to be stretched to their limits.

Now I didn’t see my legs, but considering the ease of my run, they probably fit the rest of my new body. I would have to check at home. While I was okay with standing in public in a T-shirt, I was so not going to strip down to my underwear. With my luck, I would get caught by the police and charged with public indecency.

Emma would just love that.

Now, my only question was how this had happened. I had heard about the glow people in love get occasionally, but this seemed a bit on the extreme side of things.

I scratched my head. When did it happen? I went to the toilet after lunch in the cafeteria and back then everything was normal. So, it had to have happened somewhen after that.

The pants! They hadn’t dropped because the knot in the drawstring got lose. No, they fell because my waist melted away, I was sure of it. Therefore, it must have happened during the kiss. Had I felt so tingly because of my body changing? I’d have to check that, if Lisa was willing to kiss me again. I smiled at the memory of it.

But why had it happened.

I stood there for a long moment, thinking, then slapped my face. Man was I stupid. The tattoo, the change had to be related to that. I quickly pulled the sleeve of the shirt to the side and... yes. The tattoo was gone.

“Huh?”

Why would it vanish? Okay, I had expected something like that. After all, my power had told me that the powder would channel some form of energy. That the conduit I created would burn out wasn’t an unlikely behaviour. Leet’s inventions burnt out all the time. Because of that, I had assumed that I would have to activate the tattoo somehow, and then get the benefits of it for a time, until it burned away.

But now, the tattoo was gone, and I was still swole. Was I using that right? I think I had heard some wannabe thugs call each other that at Winslow.

Was the change permanent?

That was a scary thought.

Permanent powerups were the things people started gang wars over. The E88 would want me to create Übermenschen for them for sure. It fit right in with their whole stick. I shuddered at the thought of a few dozen blond, blue-eyed and white super bigots goosestepping through Brockton Bay. This place was f*cked up enough as it was.

I doubted that the ABB would be any better.

The only ones that probably wouldn’t care were the merchants. Healthy and happy people didn’t need drugs.

Remembering that I was still standing around outside, with my new body on full display, I quickly donned my hoody. Then I realised that I was a bit stupid. Few people knew me, and even fewer had seen me with anything less than my normal getup. Honestly, it was probably only dad that I had to worry about. He had seen me loafing around the house often enough that he would think my new form strange.

For anyone else I would just be a very fit girl, not unlike Sophia. No one had batted an eye at her, and unlike me, she was even hot.

On the way back, I made sure to keep my speed in check. Something that was shockingly hard. I wanted to let loose and charge past all these slow pokes blocking the street. But I couldn’t risk anyone noticing anything out of the ordinary. The first leg of the journey had been dangerous enough. I could only hope that no one had thought anything of me.

By the time I had made it back, our car was already in the driveway. I winced a bit when I remembered that I hadn’t left a note. Knowing him, he had worried himself sick. I leapt over the broken step and unlocked the door.

“Hey, dad!” I shouted down the hallway, trying to pinpoint where he was.

“There you are, Taylor,” dad answered and stepped out of the kitchen, a towel draped over his shoulder. “Where were you?” Jup, he sounded worried.

“Out for a run.” I smiled at him, trying to make it seem as casual as possible. “I had some energy left to burn after school and needed to move. But don’t worry I took the mace with me,” I flashed him the small container and then dropped it into the key bowl in the hall.

“You didn’t go towards the docks, right?” Concern etched itself on his face.

I shook my head. “Of course not!”

He sighed, then waved me into the kitchen.

“Okay, dinner’s almost ready.”

I followed after him through the door, surreptitiously checking out the pans on the stove. Spaghetti, tomato sauce and meatballs. Better than another freezer dish. That made me wonder, with the tattoo gone, would I have to maintain this body? Oh God, I probably would have to. I knew nothing about keeping in shape. Fit people ate salads, right?

Maybe Victoria could help me with that? She was most certainly fit. Though I would have to find a reason why I needed her help. You didn’t get this type of body overnight, and it would look suspicious if a complete newbie would waltz up to her. I might just as well write CAPE on my forehead if I did that.

“Can you get the plates, sweety?”

“Huh...? Oh, yeah, sure.”

I shook of my thoughts and did as I was told. Setting the table for two took less than a minute. Especially now that I had finally stopped from grabbing three sets of tableware. The empty spot at the table still hurt, though.

I sat down and was soon joined by my father. He portioned the food, and we ate in silence for a bit. I guess we were both hungry after a long day.

“Next time, please leave a note.”

I nodded, swallowed and then added a ‘yes’ for emphasis. I would try to remember.

Cleanup went quick and a few minutes later I charged up the stairs back to my room. My mind whirred with thoughts, not the least of which was when I should call Lisa. So far, we had met every day. It would be strange if I were to see her at school, without having called her, right? That would look like I ignored her intentionally. But at the same time, those magazines Emma liked to read said to call after three days, otherwise you would look desperate.

But I was desperate.

A sudden and intense wave of yearning overtook me. My eyes started to burn. I missed mom... She would know what to do. I tried to stave of the tears and mostly succeeded. Hoping for something that would never happen was pointless.

I glanced at the clock, just past seven in the evening. Maybe I’d wait till eight? That was a good time, right? It said calling you was important to me, without the tinge of obsession calling right after dinner would have.

Yes, that sounded like a plan. It would give me enough time to shower too.

With a plan in hand, I walked over to the bathroom, locked the door and started undressing.

My legs had definitely joined the rest of my body in its change. They looked strong now and gave me the sense that I could kick like a mule. I twisted one of my legs one way, then the other, all the while humming to myself. Okay, I liked this change. I had always had long legs, before they looked like sticks under a barrel, but now – I tensed the muscles in my thighs and calves – they fit the rest of my body.

My T-shirt followed the pants to the floor, and I carefully inspected my belly. Okay, while I had abs, they were nothing like a guy’s. Mostly, they were just visible by the outline on the side of the muscle group. There was still a small layer of subcutaneous fat that lent some softness and smoothed over the ridges. I liked that, it made me look healthy, and not like a starving model.

I twisted my upper body a bit and leaned back. The movement highlighted the new shape of my body and – while I could almost not believe that I was thinking that – it looked hot. Not exactly in a conventional manner – I doubted that I would garner any praise two hundred years ago – but more in a modern, empowered woman style.

I reached behind me, opened the clasp of my bra and let it slide to the floor. Cupping my breasts, I sighed. Just as I had suspected, they hadn’t changed at all. They were still barely a handful. With my new fit body, I wouldn’t be surprised if people took me for a boy. I guess even a superpower couldn’t make me any womanlier.

I let go of my breasts and slid my fingers under the elastic of my panties. Once they had joined the rest of my clothes on the floor, I twisted around and checked out my ass. Was muscly better than bony or flabby? Oh, well, at least it matched the rest of my body.

I spent a few more minutes scrutinising my overall form, then stepped into the shower. Since I didn’t want to wash my hair, I quickly tied it into a bun. I gave it a quick tug, and when I was sure that it wouldn’t come loose by itself, started the water. Well versed in the quirks of our boiler I made sure to stand to the side of the stream until the temperature had settled. It wasn’t the cold that I feared most of the time, but the sudden burst of boiling hot water that for some strange reason happened sometimes.

A groan slipped past my lips as the spray hit my back. Showers were the best. After a minute of that, I leaned forward until my forearm and head rested against the wall. Then, I set my right hand to wander my body, trying to make memory and reality meet. Warm droplets rolled cautiously down my stomach, from just below the bow of my ribs. My fluttering fingers followed them, dancing over the soft ridge between my abs and my sides. My breath caught, as my touch teased half-forgotten dreams to the forefront of my mind.

The volleyball team, that had sometimes met at the beach where Emma and I played. Those beautiful, older girls, that had unwittingly given me those first few hints about my sexuality. I had wanted to touch them – out of curiosity, I had told myself back then – those glistening bodies.

My fingers wandered lower, now tracing the circle of my belly button.

Oh, how I wanted to embrace them, just like they did in exuberance after winning a particularly hard set. I had dreamed of wrapping myself around them, feeling their moist skin and testing their silken veneer to find the steel-like, corded muscles beneath.

Lower I went, over the unfamiliar terrain of my mons pubic. Something felt off, but I pushed it to the back of my mind, refocusing on my fantasy.

Those girls had always looked so happy and full of energy. Sprites dancing over the sand, while others just walked. It had been hard for me to look away from their bikini clad asses, when they had squatted slightly in preparation of a pass.

“f*ck,” I gasped, as my fingers trailed along the outside of my lower lips. The feelings were much more intense than I was used to. Every touch was electric, sending tingles up my spine. I wanted more, no I needed more. I slipped two fingers between my folds, while keeping the others outside. I moaned at the wetness coating my fingers. I was more than ready for this.

How long had it been since I had done this last, I wondered. It didn’t matter.

I slipped the tip of a finger inside. It met little resistance. I added a second one, better. Then, I pulled them back, teasing myself. My finger moved up and up and up, my lips caught between them, until my slick fingers inched over my cl*t. An involuntary gasp tore free from my throat as my muscles seized. So very sensitive.

My body was on fire, making the spray on my back feel almost cold. I angled my hand until the hard edge pressed against my puss*. I ground against it, groaning as I did so. “Oh, God.” I could sense the pressure building within me. It wouldn’t be long now. I undulated my hips in a slow, sensual movement. The sensation the pressure elicited in my cl*t was almost painful in its intensity. My legs felt weak.

I straightened my hand back out again, cupping myself. I had never been entirely happy with my labia, in p*rn they were always vanishingly small. But right now, I loved the feel of hot, engorged wet flesh against my hand. Gods. I pressed forward and forced two fingers into myself. My breathing turned ragged as I pumped my fingers rhythmically into myself. I could feel myself move up the crest, to highs I had never ventured to before.

I bit down on the arm holding me up. This was not going to be a quite one.

My hand moved faster with each thrust as animalistic desperation overtook me.

I was almost at the ridge. Only a bit more and I would go tumbling over the precipice.

I flicked back my thumb, in the search for my cl*t. That would be the last push I needed.

But just as I pressed down on the little nubbin my mind was overtaken by a vision of a stern woman. She was tall, with a shock of crimson hair. Her figure held all the curves my body so sorely lacked and looked absolutely magnificent in the green co*cktail dress. Her heels were to die for – literally, in this case, as the arch it forced on her foot was murderous – and her legs were sculped so beautifully that it would bring tears to Michelangelo's eyes.

Whatever corner of my dirty mind had spawned this image, I applauded it.

My body twitched and tensed in anticipation of the fall.

The beauty raised a lithe arm, followed by her perfectly manicured index finger. Her nails were painted a glossy, dark red and filed to a point that could take an eye. Or leave bloody streaks on the back of a lover.

Her lovely lips pulled into a devilish grin.

She wagged her finger ‘no’.

I slammed down, pushing the pair of fingers into my yearning puss* all the way to the hilt. At the same time, I swirled my thumb around my cl*t.

I tensed; this was it.

Any moment now.

Just one more second.

...

I was there at the brink, all but leaning over the edge, but I just couldn’t crest into an org*sm. I forced another finger into my hole as my movements turned violent. However much I tried, I just couldn’t get there.

Frustration replaced anticipation and I screamed into my arm. “Just let me cum!”

All my outburst achieved was just a widening of the woman’s smile. Her brows pulled down in a mockery of compassion.

“Better luck next time,” the woman said, her voice pure sex. My insides twitched as my need flared up again.

Then she vanished, and with her the mirage that had held me in its grip.

I started dry sobbing as the possibility of release drew further and further from my grasp, leaving me a hot, horny mess.

Chapter 5: Call me baby

Chapter Text

“Are you alright, Taylor?” My father asked from beyond the door. I jumped in surprise and when I landed my feet slipped backwards, leaving me flailing in the air. But before I could brain myself on the shower fixtures my reflexes kicked in. I flung out my arms and somehow managed to push off the wall with enough force to bring my feet back under myself. The near accident left my heart racing, and I needed a moment to gather myself before I could answer my dad.

“Y-yes,” I stammered.

“What was that?”

“Yes!” I repeated, louder this time.

“Okay...” dad said, sounding worried again, “will you be out soon? You’ve been in there quite a while.”

My cheeks warmed slightly as a blush took hold. I hadn’t even gotten around to soaping up, so consumed by my lust as I was. It hadn’t even helped. Even now, I was still tingling, and I suspected wet, though not because of the shower. I sighed, there was nothing for it.

“Just a minute,” I shouted at the door, and then turned off the water. It would have to be enough. Not like I got sweaty anyway on my run. As I stepped out of the shower, I realised that I hadn’t brought any fresh clothes with me, not even my pyjamas. Normally, I would just wrap a towel around myself, but that would give up the game instantly. It might hide my midriff, but my legs and arms would be on full display.

The only solution would either be to wait for my father to leave or put my clothes back on. I tilted my head and tried to listen. I hadn’t heard him walk away, so he might still be waiting in front of the door, but I couldn’t make out any noise that would hint at his presence either.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Taylor?”

Still here then. I guess he needed to pee.

“I was thinking,” I said haltingly, “that I should do more sports. Do you think we could afford a gym subscription?” From what I remembered they were pretty expensive, so that was probably a longshot. But I didn’t think that running alone would maintain my current level of fitness. Maybe I could tinker up some makeshift weights? Bags of sand tied to a rebar, maybe.

While I was asking that, I had finished towelling myself off, and picked up my panties. I stopped short when black hairs rained down from them.

What?

I looked down at my crotch. My completely hairless crotch.

I blinked, then spent the next minute going over my body in detail.

Why in the ever living hell, had my power given me a full body wax?! Beyond my eyelashes, brows and scalp I was left entirely hairless, and as smooth as a baby’s bottom. I cringed at the metaphor, still a bit too revved up to be comfortable with that specific comparison.

But horrible choice of words notwithstanding, I felt like I had a point there. How did my power get from ‘Fortitude, strength and trueness of form’ to ‘laser hair removal for everybody’? Body hair was pretty f*cking natural if you asked me. And how had I missed this earlier?

I guess, I had been pretty distracted by my new body. Everything still felt a bit off, though it had gotten better during the shower. So, I guess that lapse ofattention could be forgiven...

“Isn’t there one at school?” My dad asked.

“What?”

“A gym?” He asked, confused.

Ah, yeah, we had been talking about this.

“I don’t know... Although, Victoria mentioned something about a pool.”

“Yes, and there is also a gym,” dad said, “at least, that is what the principal told me. Maybe you could check it out?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” I answered, while swiping up the last vestiges of my pubic hair from the floor. Once I was fully dressed again, I unlocked the door and smiled at my father. “All yours.”

He didn’t push past me, as I had expected. Instead, he looked me over with an inscrutable expression on his face. Something akin to a mix of worry and suspicion.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

He glanced down at my arms, then shook his head.

“No, sweetheart,” he said, then stepped around me and into the bathroom.

I furrowed my brow in thought, glancing at my hoody covered arms. Did he notice something? Maybe one of the sleeves had rode up without me noticing? I tried to remember our earlier interactions, but if something had happened, I couldn’t remember it anymore.

Anyways, I had better things to do. Like calling Lisa. I couldn’t stop a faint smile from tugging at my lips. I was looking forward to talking to her, as we hadn’t really spoken so far. Did she like to read? I hoped so, it would be a shame if we had nothing in common. But knowing my luck, I wouldn’t be surprised if she were really into football, reality TV and cheerleading.

I paused on the lowest step of the stairs. Okay, I wouldn’t mind seeing her in a cheerleading uniform. One of those short skirts would look fantastic on her. I shook my head, no perving on the cute girl right before calling her. That sounded like a recipe for disaster. I needed all my faculties in place, if I gave in to the horny, I would probably blurt out something really embarrassing and scare her away.

No, I had to be on my best behaviour. Just think football, big sweaty guys and stinky socks. I shuddered at the image of unwashed jocks and continued on, pulling Lisa’s note from my hoody’s pocket. I had long since inscribed her number onto the surface of my brain, no way was I risking losing her number, but I still felt paranoid about entering the wrong digits. Luckily, all that training with dad had made it surprisingly easy to add another number to my repertoire.

I compared what I remembered to what was written on the slip and smiled when it matched. Good, I pulled the phone of its dock, and entered the numbers. It was only after the first ring, that I remembered that I hadn’t rehearsed the call at all.

Oh, no! What should I say? Could I just disconnect, prep something and try again later? No, that wasn’t an option, it would show in her call log. Damn you, modern phones. I was still fretting when the call connected.

“Hi Taylor.” Lisa said in her sweet voice.

“Uhm, how did you know who I am?” I asked, dumbly. I hadn’t given her my home number in return.

“Just an educated guess,” Lisa said, humour palpable in her voice. I was unsure where that came from, but I wouldn’t be shocked if I had missed some kind of social cue.

“Anyways,” she continued. I guess I had taken too long to give a response. “I want to apologise for earlier. Didn’t mean to confront you like that...”

I froze, my eyes going wide. Oh no, was she regretting kissing me?

“While the sentiment was sincere, I think I put you a bit on the spot there.”

Was she letting me down easily, or was she telling me that she wanted to kiss me? I wrapped the arm not holding the phone around my belly. I needed to know.

“Y-you wanted to kiss me?” sh*t, sh*t, sh*t... Why did I say that.

A chuckle, “yes Taylor, I wanted to kiss you. And I liked it...” She added the last part in a singsong.

“Great... that’s great.”

Her chuckle turned into full blown laughter.

“Yes, I agree.”

“But now that that is out of the way, I wanted to ask if you’d like to watch a movie with me on Saturday, or maybe grab a bite to eat? I would really like to get to know you better.”

Iiiihh, I clenched my teeth in a desperate bit to stop that sound from passing my lips. Instead, I opted for hopping in place for a bit to get rid of the nervous energy.

“Yass...” I cringed at the way I sounded. Get it together, Taylor, I admonished myself.

“I’d love to,” I said, trying to sound a bit more distinguished. However, I doubted that it changed all that much about the image of a spazz I had so far presented.

“Awesome,” Lisa said, seemingly unruffled by my behaviour. “Why don’t we meet in front of the mall at ten o’clock. That way we can catch the matinee show.”

I’d have to check with dad, but I doubted that he would be against it. I was sure he would be glad seeing me hang out with new friends. He wouldn’t have to know about the ‘maybe more than friends bit’.

“That sounds great.” I even managed to sound somewhat suave.

“It’s a date then.” And I was back to being a spluttering mess. A date! I never went on a date before!

...

What did people do on dates, outside of watching a movie or whatever? Was it just talking or was there something more to it. Something super-secret that no one had ever told me about. Oh, God, I was going to make a fool of myself, I just knew it!

Did you bring something? Flowers? Victoria was always talking about how Dean brought her flowers. But they were in a relationship for a while now, did you bring flowers to a first date? Did the fact that we had already kissed change the calculus? What would be expected when we meet? A kiss? But we were just finding out if we were compatible. A firm handshake? No, that was stupid and weird. Maybe a hug?

Faster and faster did my thoughts race through my head, as I considered the conundrum that was dating. I was so consumed by it, that I all but forgot about the phone I was still pressing to my ear. Only Lisa’s quite chuckle brought me back to the matter at hand.

“You’re not much of a talker over the phone, are you?” she said, her smile easily discernible in the tone of voice.

A blush was forming on my cheeks. What a mess.

“Y-yeah... I’m not the biggest fan of phones.”

“Ah, gotcha. I’m the same, at least in this case. It’s just not the same if I can’t see your pretty smile.”

My heart was aflutter. She called my smile pretty! Only mom and dad had ever said that, and they didn’t count. I put a hand against my chest, trying to rein in my racing heart.

“Yes, that one.” Lisa said, with a giggle that sounded like the tinkle of a bell.

By scion, was there anything about her that wasn’t perfect?!

“No, I don’t think so.” The smug tone almost dripped from the receiver.

Had I said that aloud? I couldn’t have, right? I bonked my head against the wall next to the table with the phone. I was making such a mess of this. She must think I’m a moronic mute. Come on, say something, she’s waiting for you to interact with her, gods damnit.

“Uhm, I’m Taylor, by the way.”

Shoot. Me. Now.

“Heh, I know. Teach called you that, and there was no way I would forget the name of a cutie like you.” Lisa said nonchalantly. How could she do that? Was there some secret class the cool kids went to, where they teach you to be suave?

Maybe a summer class? Was that why Emma suddenly hated me? She was invited to the secret club, and I wasn’t?

“While I hate to cut this call short, sadly I still have some chores to do, if I want to spend my entire Saturday with you. Which I do. But we’ll have plenty of time to talk during our date. Aaand... I wouldn’t mind it if you said hi during school. I’m sure we could find a deserted classroom for a minute or seven.”

“Oh,” was all I could force past the whirring of my thoughts. Was she insinuating that we could kiss more? I’d like that. I’d like that very much. But maybe I was reading too much into that. She probably just wanted to talk and find out if I was in dire need of special ED, or if I could actually string two words together.

“Yeah,” at least she still sounded somewhat amused and not exasperated. I’d count that as a win in my column.

“So, until Saturday then?”

“Yes, absolutely, ten o’clock in front of the mall, right?” I quickly asked again, just to make sure that I didn’t hallucinate something.

“Jup,” she popped the ‘p’ playfully. “Have a good night, Taylor.”

“You too, sweet dreams.” I said, returning her bid for a good night, even though my bedtime was still hours away. As was hers, probably. She seemed like a night owl more than anything. I guess we already had that in common.

“Oh, I will, after all, you gave me plenty of material.”

“Bye.”

“B-bye.”

Discombobulated, that described my current mental state well. Slowly, I returned the receiver to the charging station. This whole conversation made me think of a tornado that had just gotten hold of me, whirled me through the air, and then somehow set me down safely.

I sank down onto the stool next to the little table with the phone, feeling more exhausted than I had after the run to the library and back. However, at the same time I also felt strangely elated. In a sense, it reminded me of Emma, before she had turned evil. She too had been a whirlwind at times, forcing me – no that wasn’t fair to old Emma, more like motivated me – out of my comfort zone and into wild adventures. Which I had usually loved, after the fact.

So, in a way, Lisa felt a bit like coming home. I just hoped that it would take a different turn than with Emma. Mom left me fragile, Emma caused cracks; I wasn’t sure that I could withstand another hit like that without shattering.

So, it was risky to try. But if I didn’t, I would condemn myself to a lonely existence.

Between risk and certainty, the choice was simple.

I ripped a piece of paper from the pad and started to write.

10:00, Saturday, Mall.

Date with Lisa.

I surrounded it with a big heart and grinned.

Now if I only had someone to talk to about this. Because if this call had shown one thing, then it was that I was so far out of my depths, I couldn’t see land anymore. Old Emma would have loved this. I could have called her and told her about my date, and ten seconds later she would have been ringing the doorbell.

Although, I wasn’t sure about her opinion about lesbians. Nowadays, she had mostly just insinuated that I was blowing gangb*ngers behind the bleachers for drugs. I don’t think the thought had crossed her mind, as I had been a bit of a late bloomer and had still been in the relationships are ‘ick’ phase until she turned evil.

I guess my mother’s death didn’t exactly help me bloom in that regard.

That thought put a bit of a damper on my mood.

I pocketed the note and turned away from the phone, only to almost run face first into my dad. The sly grin he was sporting told me all that I needed to know. He had heard, now the only question was how much.

“Sooo...” I said, not really knowing where I was going with that.

“New friend of yours?” Dad asked, grin widening.

Gratefully, I took the hint and started to tell him about Lisa. “Yeah, that was Lisa, a girl I met at school. We made plans to go to the mall on Saturday. That’s okay with you, right?”

“Sure,” he said breezily, “will you need a ride from me? I need to go shopping anyways.”

Please no, I screamed on the inside. All this disaster in the making needed was my dad giving Lisa the third degree. What kind of loser brought their parent to a date... One that didn’t get the girl, that’s who.

While I was fretting on the inside, I tried to remain as calm as possible on the outside.

“You don’t have to rearrange your plans for me,” I offered nonchalantly, “I can just take the bus.”

Dad chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ll let you out a street away from the mall. I’m not going to crimp your style... That’s how the cool kids say it these days, right?”

Oh god... I groaned. But as loath as I was to take my dad’s offer, it would shorten the trip to the mall considerably. The bus routes from the docks area were really awkward with lengthy waits between connections. Something that the folk around here said to be intentional to keep the riffraff out of downtown. I tended to agree. Now that I rode on the buses of the inner city a few times, it had become obvious that this part of the city only got the dregs.

Our buses tended to break down pretty often, something that was completely unheard of in the better parts of town. Which would be really inconvenient if it happened on Saturday. Without a phone, I had no way of letting Lisa know. If I was late, she would think that I stood her up, and then she wouldn’t want to date me anymore.

“Okay, fine,” I told my dad. Accepting his help was the right thing to do, but I didn’t have to like it.

“Good, when do you need to be there?”

Our car wasn’t the most reliable, so I’d better be early.

“Half past nine, does that work for you?” I asked, half hoping that he would say no.

“Sounds good.”

He stepped past me towards the living room, probably to spend the rest of the evening watching TV, as usual. As for me, I wanted to take another run, my entire body was buzzing with nervous energy. But I didn’t think dad would take well to that. Firstly, it would look really weird if I went running twice in a day, after avoiding any physical activity for the better part of three years. And secondly, it was far too late. It was already dark outside, and while this part of the outer docks area was pretty safe during the day, the same could not be said about nighttime.

With that out, and homework not being an option – I wouldn’t be able to concentrate – I decided to do some more power testing. I needed to know how much of the power powder I could create in what time intervals. That knowledge would be crucial for further planning. Beyond that, it would also be a good idea to think about the runes a bit more.

What that first tattoo had done to me came as a bit of a shock. The changes went far further than I thought they would. The tattoo hadn’t been very large compared to the overall surface of my body. And while I suspected that the changes done would be permanent, I couldn’t know. My power was silent on the topic, so only time would tell. Therefore, I was a bit leery of creating another tattoo before I knew the full extent of the consequences.

But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t do some preparatory work.

I diverted to the kitchen, grabbed the oldest measuring cup I could find, and then returned to my room. First, I would check my capacity for creating this stuff. I set the cup down on the table, settled down on my chair and formed a circle with my hands. Then, I sunk into my mind, looking for that place of impossible angles and hard surfaces. It took me a long while to find it, as my thoughts tended to drift to other matters.

Lisa’s impossible soft lips, thighs dusted with white sand and tight sport shorts that were prone to show off a camel toe. Those fantasies were only stoked on by the unrelenting knot of tension in my lower belly, that had trapped part of my attention ever since my moment of me-time in the shower.

I fought the arousal and the persistent fantasies it spawned. But no matter what technique I tried, I just couldn’t push past it and that strange place linked to my power avoided me.

I broke the circle of flesh, took of my glasses and rubbed my burning eyes with the balls of my hands. As far as I knew, there had never been a case of power disfunction. All the capes agreed that using their powers was like flicking a switch; something deeply innate to them as persons. Only a few complained, and those were the people that couldn’t turn their powers off...

I sighed, maybe my power was just still on cooldown.

I put my glasses to the side, leaned back in my chair and let myself sink into my imagination. Slowly, my hand crept into my pants, not really to play with myself, but mostly just cupping my puss* over my panties. My thoughts drifted back to the first kiss I had shared with Lisa, replaying it agonizing second by agonizing second. By the time a ghostly Lisa nibbled on my lower lip, I had sunken so deep into my fantasy, that I almost didn’t notice that I had finally found the place my power resided in.

Slowly, I moved my hands back into position over the measuring cup. It took me well over a minute to get there, as I was afraid of losing my zen like state before I could put my power to the test. I had already suspected that I wouldn’t be able to use it during combat, but this was pretty much the nail in the coffin of that idea. In that regard I was pretty close to a tinker, most of them too couldn’t really create new things in the field.

Just as last time, a reddish shimmer appeared between my hands in the ring of my flesh, and from it fell the black dust with crimson highlights. It poured down into the container, and even just after a few seconds I could tell that I created far more than the first time.

When all was said and done, I had created about a decilitre worth of the material. Almost five times as much as the first time. As I held the cup before me, twisting it from one side to the other, I wondered what I was going to do with all this stuff.

Creating a power-up tattoo didn’t take all that much pigment. With the amount here, I could probably do a half-sleeve with powder to spare.

I tapped my fingers on the fake wood of the desk. There was something I was forgetting.

I pulled out my notebook that held all the information about my power and runes that I had so far and leafed through it. It wasn’t much, just two pages worth of information. Which reminded me... I grabbed my favourite pen and noted down my experience with my first tattoo and drew a table for tracking of the powder creation.

I had only a guess for the amount of my first use of the power, but I still noted it down. Incomplete data was still better than no data at all. At least if marked as such.

After that, I ruminated a bit on the runes I had so far. There weren’t much, and no new ones seemed to be forthcoming for the moment.

There were:

Strength, Fortitude and Trueness of form; of which I had already made good use of.

Besides that, I knew the runes for Speed, Within and Without. I was pretty sure that those last two were only useful as part of a word. They seemed to create a context and change where an effect was aimed at. Within was the base state of a rune, so I was unsure when I would have use of it. Without would move the effect outside of the body. I was pretty sure that this would let me create more directly offensive functions.

Now if I only knew the rune for fire, or something else that made sense to be projected.

Beyond those, I also knew how to form a rune-word, and how to create the meaning of increase and decrease. For that I had to repeat a rune in the word and change its size. For example, if I wrote strength-strength and made the second iteration bigger, than it would translate to growing strength. If the second one were smaller, it would conversely mean decreasing strength.

I could probably do neat stuff with this. Decreasing speed had potential for some form of personal protection, for one. Furthermore, I was sure that increasing strength could be weaponized.

It was while I was considering the implications of that knowledge when I remembered the missing piece. I couldn’t just create tattoos with the powder, no, I could also create items. The powder, when melted, would cool down into a metal. Though I knew neither the level of heat necessary for the powder to melt, nor did I have any experience forging stuff. But I suspected that it was fairly difficult, and not something I should try to do by myself without some training.

What I could do was tattooing runes onto certain materials. The requirements were fairly strict. The source of the material had to have lived at some point, and the material had to be a single, solid piece. Cotton and other weaved clothes wouldn’t work. The gaps between the single threads would be too big. Either the rune-word wouldn’t function, or worse, would do something completely different or fail explosively. Also, for some strange reason, my power accepted neither wood nor anything made from pulped plant material. It seemed that they just didn’t hold enough of that ethereal thing my tattoos were reaching out too. Only plant sap seemed to have a strong enough link to life to work.

Only two materials came to my mind that fulfilled those requirements: Leather and latex. Both were made from living things, one from animals and the other from plants. They were also solid enough to count as a single piece where my power was concerned, so they would take runes without issues. Leather was also already very resilient and something deep inside of my mind told me that it would be perfect for personal protection. At least until I could smith myself a suit of plate armour.

Apparently, my power liked to work with existing associations and connotations. Leather was originally skin; skin protected our meaty innards from the elements and infections. Therefore, leather would suit best for defensive purposes. There the power could somehow lean on those existing attributes to strengthen the effectiveness of the runes. Conversely, latex was made from tree sap, the lifeblood and sealing agents of trees. It would serve best as a basis for regenerative effects and those that enhanced physical attributes like endurance, speed and strength.

Suddenly, I realized that there were a few more materials that would work: Bones, teeth and claws. I shuddered at the thoughts. I didn’t mind meat or blood, but imagining myself sawing bones and cleaning teeth of leftover nerve tissue and blood wasn’t the nicest thought. Also, where did you even buy bones? Could you just walk up to a slaughterhouse and ask for cow tibia? Or whatever a cow’s bones were called.

No, for the moment I would restrict myself to only leather and latex. Those would be way easier to source and wouldn’t trigger half a dozen alarms at the PRT. Biological tinkers weren’t well liked, not after the emergence of Bonesaw and Nilbog. So, it wouldn’t surprise me if they tracked who bought stuff like bones, sinew and other unusual animal products.

Besides, I had the feeling that leather and latex would already make more than enough of a splash in the cape scene.

f*ck my luck...

Chapter 6: Doctor, Doctor, I need the Treatment

Chapter Text

The direction my musings had taken me, reminded me that it might just be time to revisit the idea of joining up with the official heroes. The PRT or the New Wave would lend me a measure of protection until I was fully set up, and with my power set I was certain that they would take me.

But... I had the faint suspicion that I wouldn't see much action myself. Since I couldn’t create power-ups in the heat of the moment, they would probably argue that it made no sense for me to risk myself. Why waste time and energy strengthening myself, when I could put the effort into someone like Aegis, which already had an impressive powerset.

Unlike a tinker, I couldn’t even argue that I was the only one that could handle my power’s creations.

For that reason, I was still leery of joining the Protectorate. As for the New Wave... While I would like to work with Glory Girl and Panacea, I didn’t want to give up my secret identity before I experienced the cape world for a while. First, I needed to know if I would risk dad with that.

I shrugged; not like I couldn’t join them later on.

With that taken care of, I returned to my notes and spent the rest of the evening scribbling down ideas about rune-words I wanted to try to imbue into my cape outfit.

That was another thing I had to handle before I could go out and be a hero. A lot of new capes wore something cobbled together from bits and bobs they had at hand. I doubted I could avoid that. My wallet was decidedly thin these days, I just had to spend too much money on replacing stuff the Trio broke. I had gotten some money from the PRT’s Victims of Violent Crime fund – which also had facilitated my transfer to Arcadia High – but since I wasn’t eighteen for a few more months I couldn’t access it.

My dad was holding on to it, and I doubted I could finagle him to give me some of it to buy clothes. Especially leather and latex clothes.

Furthermore, buying something custom made wouldn’t make any sense until I knew what runes I wanted on my equipment. So, for the next while I’d just have to run around in a wild mix that would immediately single me out as a newbie.

Since I was going to the mall anyways on Saturday, I would just have to keep an eye out for a second-hand shop that sold leather items.

Hearing my dad come up the stairs, I closed the notebook and returned it to the shelf. I had thought about finding a better hiding place but had quickly realized that there wasn’t really a better one. Who was going to check the school notes of a teenage girl. No one, that’s who. But if they found a notebook hidden somewhere behind the desk, that they would read for sure.

The powder on the other hand would be more troublesome.

An idea hit me. I grabbed the empty paper towel box that had littered my desk for a while and a pair of scissors. A few quick cuts later and I had an open topped cardboard box. I poured the powder in there, grabbed a few of the seashells spread all over the shelf and placed them on the powder.

There, now all anyone would see is some bad do-it-yourself decoration.

With that taken care of, I headed to bed.

It was amazing how quickly new turned into a routine. An awkward breakfast with dad where both of us wanted to say more, but never got past skin deep. Followed by an obscenely long bus ride and decently engaging lessons at Arcadia High. It was amazing to realize how much of my days at my old school had consisted of avoiding the Trio and dealing with the consequences of their bullying.

Now that I was out of hard mode, the classes were almost too easy. Without having to keep an ear out for the whispering of would be conspirators, I now could listen to my teacher while I was already working on my assigned homework. I guess I could be thankful to the Trio for teaching me multitasking.

I didn’t meet Lisa on my way to the lunchroom, which was a bit of a letdown. Although, she had never showed there for as long as I was going to this school, which admittedly wasn’t very long. So, I shouldn’t have expected her to change her ways for me; at least not before even the first date.

I was still admonishing myself for irrationally getting my hopes up, when I headed over to my customary spot on the popular kids table. I tilted my head in thought; Emma would be horrified to hear that.

“Just the person I was looking for!” The unexpected words almost made me jump out of my skin. I whirled around and met Victoria’s intense gaze. “I have a bone to pick with you!”

“Uhm?”

“You wouldn’t believe what a little birdy told me.” She tapped a finger against my collarbone. The gesture made me want to cringe away from her, since I was acutely aware that Glory Girl could crumble a garbage can like others could a paper cup.

Beyond that immediate worry, I was also quite concerned about her words. Had the Trio somehow gotten to her? I couldn’t imagine a way they would achieve that on a Wednesday evening. That wasn’t exactly the time the rich and beautiful rubbed shoulders. Maybe they had sent an anonymous message, though I couldn’t imagine that Glory Girl would put much faith in something like that. As she must get tons of creepy fan mail and conspiracy theories sent to her.

Without knowing what this was about, I reverted to my old method of handling things. Freeze and don’t show any emotions.

“Here you were letting me believe you weren’t in a relationship, and then Cassie here,” she pointed at one of the nondescript hangers-on that gravitated around the table, “tells me that a teacher caught you making out with your girlfriend in the hallways.”

“What?” I goggled at her.

“Yes!” Victoria nodded, picking up steam in the face of my confusion, “I was already scoping out guys to find you a date, and there you are lip-locked with Lisa from my Math class!”

What? I repeated mentally. Did she really almost give me a heart attack because of this?! I deflated, letting go of the air I had held in.

“Lisa’s your girlfriend,” Dean piped in, “huh, I thought she was asexual.”

“Why would you think that?” Victoria’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Uhm, she just never showed any interest in anyone,” Dean ventured carefully.

Victoria turned on him and jabbed an angry finger over the table at him. “You mean in you?”

The pretty boy deflated, helplessness visible in his entire posture. “Can we not go there, please, sweetie.”

“Are you trying to manage me?” Victoria all but shouted.

“Didn’t we want to talk about Taylor’s girlfriend,” some other boy interrupted, coming to Dean’s rescue.

Victoria took a moment, then visibly calmed down. “Yes, of course,” she turned back to me, her still somewhat heated glare doing indecent things to me. I wanted to scream; just when the heat in my loins had finally calmed a bit. I held my breath, waiting for a fantasy to consume me, but nothing came forward. A sigh, that was at least something.

“Dish!”

“What?”

Victoria rolled her eyes at my inattention. “About your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I answered truthfully.

“So, you were just practicing kissing with a random girl from the year above yours? And since the both of you were already committed to kissing, you thought: what’s a bit of a make out between friends. Sure...” Victoria’s sarcasm was scathing enough to peel paint of the walls.

“Kinda...” I offered, then hurriedly added, “I have only seen her in the halls before yesterday. I didn’t even know her name until after she kissed me.”

Silence met my words as the entire table goggled at me.

“Uhm... But we have a date on Saturday?” My voice wavered under the combined pressure of half a dozen pairs of eyes focusing on me.

“Damn, girl, you got game.” Dean’s – maybe – friend shattered the silence that had fallen over the table. “Here for three days, and you already net yourself a babe like Lisa? Uh...” He shook out his hands, as if they had touched something hot.

That seemed to be the signal for the others to jump back in, and a barrage of questions rained down on my head. I could barely make them out, as people were talking over each other.

“What happened?” “Why did you kiss?” “Arnold told me that Lisa said you were teasing her.” “Where are you going for the date.” “Why isn’t she here?” “Why didn’t you tell us?” “Did you get to cop a feel of her ass?”

Unused to this level of attention, I shrunk down in my chair, wishing for everyone to just quite down.

An open palm slammed the table. “Everyone, Shut up!” The dispassionate shout broke through the din like a gunshot and managed to halt everyone in their tracks. My rescue came from an unexpected direction. It had been the mousy girl, ehrm, Amy, Victoria’s sister, that had stopped everyone from crowding me.

“She’s clearly uncomfortable,” she said, and nodded her head at me, “also, she knows us for three days, so give it a rest, Victoria. We aren’t her friends yet and she doesn’t owe us anything. That counts for the rest of you too.” She shot a dark look at everyone, that seemed to cow the other teens. “Also,” she raised an arm and rapped her knuckles on the head of one of the boys at the table, “don’t be disgusting, Dennis.”

“Now then,” she went back for her fork and started eating again, “how were your classes so far, Taylor?” Amy asked pleasantly in-between bites of some meat casserole.

“Worlds better than at Winslow,” I answered as I studied the unassuming girl that had probably saved more lives than all other heroes in Brockton Bay combined. She wasn’t the most glamorous hero, she was rarely even mentioned in the news. But she did her work tirelessly and spent dozens of hours a week at different hospitals. Something a few people on PHO kept track of, just in case you got seriously injured and didn’t want to go in for weeks or months of recovery.

Not something I approved of personally, the fought of barging in front of others that needed her help left a bad taste in my mouth.

But even though few were active fans of hers, she just plodded along, doing her job. It was impressive, really, and that attitude seemed to continue on in her everyday life. She didn’t put herself front and centre like her sister, but kept in the background, ready to act when she was needed.

Her clothes, looks and behaviour were all a reflection of that mindset.

She was kind of cute, I realized, less in a hot neighbour and more in a motherly way. She probably gave nice hugs. Mhm, I could see it, Amy in a comfortable sweater returning from having stoked the fire in the open chimney. She would slide down next to me on the couch, pulling me against her. She would smell nice, of dry wood, aromatic smoke and just a hint of jasmine. Her body would be warm and soft against my back, as she would wrap her arms around me.

She would breathe into my hair, as we relaxed in front of a cosy fire.

Amy would notice how tense I was, and slide her hands under my shirt, slowly letting them drift up my back. Just below my shoulder blades, she would increase the pressure of her fingers, and slowly massage the knots. I would sigh and lean into her ministrations until I turned into a puddle in her lap. At that point, she would remove her hands from my shirt, and slowly comb her fingers through my hair, luxuriating in the feel of my locks.

A bloody red light flashed before my eyes, and the image distorted. Gone was the cozy, wood panelled room with its candlelight atmosphere, and instead I found myself squinting under fluorescent lightning.

I looked around, trying to reorientate myself.

What I found was rather weird. I was in a long, clinically white hallway. While there weren’t any windows in sight, plenty of doors branched off from the hallway. The only sound I could make out, was the incessant hum from the fluorescent lights embedded into the ceiling every few metres.

Okay, this was a first. Usually, my fantasies involved a bit more sexiness than whatever this was. On that note, I realized that I wasn’t wearing my comfy clothes anymore. Instead, I found myself clad in a white latex dress with red trim. The dress was tiny and hugged my new figure like a second skin. Furthermore, it was barely long enough to cover my puss*. One wrong move and I would be flashing my panties at the world.

The red cross in the middle of my chest made me realize that this was some kind of naughty nurse uniform. So, I guess not all of the sexiness went out the door.

I chuckled when I checked out my footwear. White, nine inch, latex, platform heels. With them on, I would tower over most men, and break my neck after taking a single step.

Although, I didn’t seem to have that problem in this fantasy. I stepped easily in them, almost like I wore nothing more difficult than my usual trainers. Following some weird, dreamlike instinct, I headed for one of the numbered doors, and unlocked it with the key I had hanging around my neck.

I stopped short inside the door and let out a shocked gasp at what laid before me. I had walked into a padded cell. The floor, wall, heck even the ceiling was lined with thick white rubber that was stitched in a way to make it look like hundreds of pillows. As if that wasn’t enough of a surprise, in the middle of the room laid a girl wrapped up in a patent, white, leather straitjacket.

She stirred at hearing me and raised her head. It was Amy Dallon wrapped up in constricting leather, a huge ball gag in her mouth. She tried to shy away from me on nude legs but didn’t get far before I had caught up to her. Which wasn’t a surprise, as her lower legs were folded against her thighs and bound by bands of white leather. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, stopping her in her tracks.

My mouth opened almost by itself, and I heard myself say, “It’s time for your therapy session, Amy.” I turned back to the door and pulled her after me by the mop of her hair. She struggled for a short moment, but then relented and came along willingly. Amy grunted and moaned as she tried to keep pace with me balancing on her knees.

Luckily, she didn’t have to suffer for long, then our destination was just a few doors down the hallway. I unlocked the nondescript door with the same key as the last one and stepped into the therapy room. The clopping of my tall heels echoing quietly in the room.

I flicked the switch next to the door, and the fluorescent lights turned on one by one, revealing a cold, white tiled room. One part of the room was taken up by a shallow bathing area, but that wasn’t where my eyes were going to. No, I was looking at the piece de resistance in the room, the big gynaecologist chair that came straight out of some demented horror movie. It was all chrome steel and black rubber. Overly large and slightly threatening in the way it sat there, like a gigantic insect mimicking medical furniture.

The next minutes were a blur, as I strapped poor Amy into the device. At some point, faceless orderlies had joined me, they were little more than hulking, white, rubber clad mannequins that didn’t seem to have a distinct gender. They held her, as I stripped her down, and then forced her naked form onto the chair.

Her arms went into a hole in the backrest, where they found themselves surrounded by a black, rubber bag. One hand on her sternum, pressing her down into the seat, I flicked a hidden switch. A compressor started up somewhere below the chair and all air was pulled out of the rubber bag, sealing in her arms and rendering her defenceless.

A pair of strict rubber bands went on over her chest. One below and one above her surprisingly ample chest, squeezing her soft breasts painfully.

Belly, pelvis and legs followed suit soon after, and by the end of it, Amy could barely move an inch.

I spent a few minutes admiring my patient. Amy made for a lovely picture. She had a bit more flesh on her bones than Lisa, but here it just served to highlight the strict nature of her bondage. Wherever a black band squeezed her, her flesh formed sexy bulges. I ran my finger along one of them just below her puss*, on her thick thighs. Her lips were pink, engorged with blood, and I could just make out the glint of gathering moisture between her folds.

“You know,” I said, conversationally, “your family is paying me good money to straighten you out. So caring... you should really put some effort into getting well.”

“Mhmm,” Amy moaned into the large, white ball filling her mouth.

I stepped next to her head, towering high above her on my impossible heals. I leaned down, taking care to keep my legs straight like a proper lady was wanting to do. The cold air of the room whispered over my ass and moist panties, indicative of how much I was exposing myself. Just a shame that there wasn’t anyone to watch me do it.

I unbuckled the gag and pulled it out of Amy’s mouth, long strands of salvia trailed from it to her sexy, little mouth.

She gurgled something and moved her jaw, trying to get it to close.

I leaned in close to her ear, so that she would feel my breath on it, and whispered, “you remember your safe word?”

She nodded slightly.

“I need you to say it.” I added sternly.

“Hope,” she croaked out, her voice betraying its disuse.

“Good girl, do you want to use it, it's your last chance to do so for the next hour.”

“No,” she whispered back, then added as an afterthought, “thank you, doctor.”

I straightened back out, grinning evilly. “Well then. I’ve talked to some other professionals, and we are in agreement that we can’t fix your obsession. So, we will try something different,” I slipped my hands under my dress, and lowered my panties. I tutted, while they were soaked, I still saw some dry spots. I balled them up and slid them between my puss* lips, soaking up as much of my moisture as I could.

“Instead of curing it, we are going to try to redirect it. At me.”

I grabbed a full-faced gasmask with a clear faceplate from the rack to the side. I wadded up my sodden panties and put them into the mouth part of the mask. Carefully, I slipped the modified mask over her face, waiting a moment before buckling it up to check her breathing.

It was a bit laboured, but she could still draw breath. Good.

I pulled a swivel arm from behind the backrest of the chair and positioned it and the screen it held in front of her face. The press of a button later, the screen flickered to life. It showed a revolving range of pictures and videos. Close ups of my puss*, ass, face and breasts, followed by videos where I had sex with another woman or masturbat*d.

With the visual stimuli in place, I turned to the headphones. I placed them onto her ears and locked them to the straps of the gasmask. They were already playing sound by the time they were settled, a mix of quite sex noises, moans and groans, overlaid with me talking.

It was an eclectic mix of instructions, commands and reprimands.

I held an ear close to the speakers, listening in.

“Serve Mistress Taylor... Good girls worship their Mistress. Bad girls think about anyone else...”

With a snap of my fingers, I signaled the orderlies to bring the key part of this treatment. In the same measured step as always, the pair of them wheeled over a stainless-steel cart with a large machine bolted to the top of it. I directed them between Amy’s spread legs until the large dild* sprouting from the front of the machine was just toying with Amy’s entrance. I waved my helpers away and walked around the cart, engaging the break for each of the four wheels. Then, I grabbed the large bottle of lube residing on the lower tray and pulled the stopper.

I applied an ample coat on the large toy and also dripped the cool lube all over my patient's puss*. Amy didn’t need it at the moment, but it was going to be a long session for her. It wouldn’t serve well to be stingy with the lube now. Not when it could negatively impact her treatment.

With her all lubed up, we were ready to start. I returned to the machine and adjusted the flywheel and the shaft until the dild* pushed into her.

Amy’s cute yelp at the unseen penetration could barely be heard through the gasmask strapped to her face. The long moan that followed after, however, was easily heard. I had slowly rotated the flywheel a whole circle to ensure that the fake dick wouldn’t poke her cervix or slip out of her fully. Satisfied that I had gotten everything correctly, I turned the machine on and set it to the random program.

As the machine slowly sprang to life, I patted Amy’s thick thigh and stepped away.

I went over to the door, flicked the light off and shouted, “see you in an hour, enjoy your therapy.” Then I slammed the door. I, however, stayed in the dark room. I sneaked over to one of the rubber-clad easy chairs that were strategically placed around the room and started playing with my puss*. I slipped a pair of fingers into myself, relishing the pressure, and watched my sexy little patient as she took her first steps on the road to self-improvement.

It would be a long and hard road – a groan slipped from my lips as I pushed another finger into my dripping wet puss* – but I would be there for her. For every. single. step. of the way. I let out a long moan and the sound of my squelching fingers intensified.

I blinked and found myself back in the cafeteria.

What. The. f*ck.

Little time seemed to have passed while I had been perving on Amy; at least no one looked at me strangely.

“The teachers are cool,” I added hesitantly, just trying to distract attention. I shifted in my chair and cursed silently as I felt my wetness saturate my panties. That was going to feel great in twenty minutes from now.

“Ha!” The guy, Dennis I think, barked out a laugh at my words, “I guess you haven’t had P.E. then!”

I shot him a confused look. Sports had been one of the easiest subjects at Winslow. You just had to mumble some excuse and you could sit out the entire lessons. The sports teachers didn’t really care and were happy if at least a few people made a show of participating.

“What’s wrong with them?” I wondered out loud.

It was Amy that answered me from between bites. “They are really gong-ho, rah, rah, rah, types.”

Dennis nodded in agreement, “word around the school is that they are PRT Drill Sergeants on loan to the school. They are built like a pair of brick sh*thouses and have the same stinky attitudes as one.”

“They aren’t that bad,” Dean interjected, they are just worried about our safety.

“Maybe our physical health,” Dennis jested, “but certainly not our mental one. If I hear one more tirade about how I’m dead because I didn’t outrun a villain I’m going to blow.”

“To be fair, that is a real concern in Brockton Bay,” Dean countered.

I watched their verbal sparring from the sidelines, getting more and more concerned by what I heard. If they were linked to the PRT, would they report on my performance? That made everything a lot harder as they had visited me at the hospital. They would know what shape I was in by the time I left the hospital.

Maybe I could sandbag during sports, but if I did so, I would make everything that much more obvious if someone saw the actual shape I was in. Why would the fit girl not participate, what did she have to hide? From that question it wouldn’t be a far leap to realize that she probably had powers.

Amy seemed to have seen a hint of my worry on my face, then she quietly spoke to me. “Do you have P.E. tomorrow?”

I thought back to the sheet I had taped to the inside of my locker and nodded.

“Then you have sports with me, we can meet up at your locker beforehand if you’d like.”

“I’d like that,” I said, “do I need to bring anything special? The paperwork just said shoes suitable for a gym and sports clothes.”

Amy shook her head, “nah, not really. Just make sure to wear something light. No sweatpants or hoodies.”

“Why?”

“Because warm clothes are an affront to the teachers,” Dennis interjected from the sidelines, seemingly done with his discussion with Dean. “If you wear anything that covers more skin than beachwear, then they are going to make you run laps until you keel over from a mixture of heatstroke and dehydration.”

Was he joking? I studied his face but couldn’t really tell. He had the look of one of those guys that never took anything seriously.

“They aren’t that bad,” Amy said, “but... I wouldn’t show up in long pants. That’s a mistake everyone makes only once.”

Buy proper sportswear, noted.

After that the conversation at the table moved into a different direction, leaving me to my packed lunch.

As I bit into my crispy, green apple, I glanced over at Amy who was content to watch the proceedings around the table. I liked her, I realized. She was quiet and gave of a forbidding aura. But below that was a deeply caring person; someone I’d like to have as a friend. I would have to see if I couldn’t strike up a conversation with her tomorrow.

Hopefully the weirdness from earlier wouldn’t make a repeat appearance.

Chapter 7: Late Inheritance

Chapter Text

At the end of my school day, I took a bus heading for the boardwalk. While the shops just by the shore were out of my price range, there were a few cheaper ones tucked away in the labyrinthine alleyways just a few dozen metres behind.

Few tourists blocked my path as I stepped between the buildings. The chances of seeing one of Brockton Bay’s heroes were pretty slim here. They usually kept to the boardwalk itself, or the roofs of the shops lining the streets in the area. I wove past the lone couple taking a selfie in front of a crumbling facade – which I was pretty sure was the result of neglect and not a cape battle – and stepped into a sports shop.

I made a beeline to the training clothes and was already going for a pair of light shorts when I stopped short. I didn’t know my size anymore, I realised. It didn’t matter with most of my clothes. Baggy shirts and loose pants needed quite the change in body shape to not fit anymore. But for anything that I was going to wear for vigorous exercise, I would need something that fit and didn’t chafe.

I must have looked a little lost, as a few moments later a peppy, young woman appeared at my shoulder. “Can I help you?” she asked me, her eyes going between me and the racks I was rifling through.

“Yes...” I admitted, “I need something suitable for school sports that fits a bit better than my usual wear and I don’t really know what would suit me.”

She shot me a pitying look.

“Why don’t you go over to the changing rooms, and I’ll bring you some things to try on?”

I nodded, happy to hand this task off to someone else. I hadn’t liked going shopping, not even back when we had some actual spending money. Furthermore, after Emma, I had just bought everything as cheaply as possible. No use in getting expensive clothes if they were only going to spill juice over them. Heck, I was pretty sure that anything cute made them froth at the mouth with want to sully it.

I stepped into the first cabin and started undressing.

Within seconds I was down to socks, a pair of black briefs and a plain bra. I stared at the reflection in the tall mirror, still a little unbelieving that the reflection was really me. I flexed my arms a bit like I had seen guys doing at my old school. I grinned at the bulging muscles. I wanted to see Sophia try something now. I clearly had the track star outmuscled.

“Can I come in?” The saleswoman asked from outside the curtain.

“Yes!” I said and turned around to the entrance.

The woman slipped past the curtain, a bundle of clothes in her arms. “I’m not sure ab...” She looked up and her words died in her throat. Slowly, her eyes wandered up and down my body; then she glanced down at the clothes she was holding.

“You know, I don’t think these are your colour,” she said surprisingly smoothly, “I’m just going to slip out for a second and get something a bit more ‘you’.”

She didn’t leave for long and when she slipped back into the changing room she held far fewer clothes in her hands.

“You can never go wrong with black,” she said and held a pair of tiny Lycra shorts out to me. I took them reluctantly and held them to myself. As I had thought, they were basically boxer-cut panties, the only thing that set them apart from that garment was the material and its thickness.

“I’m not really sure...?” I said hesitantly. A bit more fabric wouldn’t hurt.

“Oh, just give them a try. They’ll look great on you.” The young woman waved my concerns away. “It would be a shame to hide a figure like yours.” I glanced at my reflection in the mirror; my body did look great now. My hair was still my most feminine feature and the muscles made me more androgynous than womanly, but at least I didn’t rock a potbelly anymore.

“Okay...” Reluctantly, I stepped into the sports pants and pulled them up my silken smooth legs. There wasn’t a hint of stubble anywhere, which was kind of nice. I wouldn’t have to remember shaving anymore.

The sporty hot pants were a snug fit and grabbed my muscular butt quite tightly. I twisted from side to side, watching myself in the mirror. They followed my movements well and could also handle a quick squat with ease. These would work. The lack of fabric was a bit concerning, but at least there was no way that the sports teacher could complain.

“Here,” the woman offered me a top, once I came up from the impromptu squat. With little surprise, I noted that it didn’t cover any more than the shorts. The top was some sort of reinforced sports bra that would surely offer excellent support while leaving me practically naked. I put it on with nary a grumble, trusting the saleswoman to know her business. If she gave bad advice, she wouldn’t get many repeat customers. There was no way this shop survived from tourists alone. Brockton Bay was known for its cape scene, not the killer waves.

I snorted; you’d sooner get tetanus from a rusty fragment the surf had torn from the rusting hulks littering the harbour than a healthy colour from sunbathing.

The woman looked quizzically at me, but I just shook my head at her and returned to the task at hand.

Studying myself in the mirror, I decided that I looked good. The lime green top was a nice contrast to the black Lycra pants, and the clothes made me look a bit like a fitness model.

“I like these,” I said finally, “how much are they?”

I winced at the number the woman quoted, I would need to find a really good deal on some leather clothes if I wanted to do some heroing this month. It was truly astonishing how much this little amount of cloth could cost. But I doubted that I would find anything better and cheaper than this. How did they put it? Speed, quality or price, pick two.

I didn’t have the time for a prolonged search anyway. Dad would be at home soon, and without a phone, I hadn’t been able to inform him of my impromptu shopping trip. If he came home and I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. Not after I had just promised him yesterday that I would leave a note.

“I’ll take them,” I said towards the saleswoman, “can I keep them on?”

Surprise coloured her face; I guess few people asked for that in a place like this. But I wanted to jog home – some movement would do me good after a day of sitting – and the new clothes would serve me better than a hoody.

“Sure, I’ll just need the tags.” She waved me to follow her, which I did after I had shoved my clothes into my backpack. Luckily, it was light on books and papers, so they fit easily enough.

I paid for my purchases, and the woman helpfully cut off all the tags and labels, and then I was off. I raced down the streets at a good clip – nothing that would get me on the front page of tomorrow’s paper – but still faster than most other runners out and about. My new outfit served me well and I made it home with minutes to spare.

Once there, I stripped and started a quick wash with my new clothes and a few other things that weren’t all that dirty. The Lycra and sports bra would dry quickly and would be ready for tomorrow’s P.E. Something I was kind of excited for. So far, I haven’t had a chance to test my strength; it would be cool to measure myself against the other teens and see where I fell. I would start out slow, of course. While the teachers and students were pretty good at being circ*mspect about who was a cape and who wasn't, there was no reason to provoke them. Honestly, I was amazed that I hadn’t heard anyone link Dean to Gallant, even though it was basically an open secret. Hell, I hadn’t even heard some snarky remarks on how Glory Girl was cheating on Dean with Gallant.

However, that was maybe just because Victoria was the queen bee of Arcadia High and attacking her would be social suicide.

With my most important chore underway, I turned to a different one and headed to the kitchen. Dad would be home any moment now, so I started dinner prep. We had eaten a bit too much fast food recently, with everything that had been happening in our lives, and it was time to get back to some healthier fare.

A bit over an hour later, we had eaten, and Dad was taking care of the dishes, so I was free to go to my room and do some homework. I didn’t have much left over, as I managed to do a good part at school and soon later, I was able to put my math homework to the side.

It was time for a different sort of homework.

I snuck down the stairs, listening intently as I reached the bottom. I heard voices coming from the den; Dad had clearly moved from the kitchen to in front of the TV. Something that served me well, with the sound of a movie playing, he would hopefully not notice what I was doing.

I headed down the hall and quietly opened the door to the cellar. Darkness met me on the other side, I flicked the light switch and stepped down into the mess below. The cellar had always been home to a bit of chaos, it held all the little things a family collects, rarely uses but doesn’t want to throw away. But it had gotten so much worse after my mother’s death. We, Dad and I, had put a lot of her stuff down here in those first few harrying months when her things reminded us too much of what we had lost.

As I stepped in between the boxes, I slid my fingers over the tops of the closest containers. I frowned at the thick coating of dust that painted their tips grey. Proof of how long we let these mementoes languish. It was high time that we finally stepped up to the task. Or at least me, I wasn’t sure that Dad would join me.

My stay at the hospital had been a bit of a wake-up call for him, but I doubted that he had made much progress with processing Mom’s death.

I shook my head, wiped my hand on my pants and returned to the task at hand. I moved from box to box, trying to remember what we had put where. It was difficult, as that entire time after her death was a bit of a mess. Memories didn’t want to stay in order, and some seemed almost reluctant to come to light.

After shuffling a good number of cardboard boxes around, I finally found the one I was looking for. It was older than the others, the tape holding it closed had already lost most of its effectiveness and was peeling off. I grabbed the box and carried it over to the cold, concrete stairs leading to the ground floor. After just a second’s hesitation, I ripped off what remained of the tape and unfolded the flaps covering the top.

A smile spread across my face. I had remembered correctly.

During a long-forgotten summer, Emma and I had spent some time at my place. We had been bored to tears and hadn’t been in the mood to play any of our usual games. So, we decided to explore the house a bit. We had likened ourselves to pirates on some grand adventure to uncover a hidden treasure. We had started in the cellar – obviously – and continued up throughout the house.

Along the way, we had found some knicks and knacks, mostly things we had played with in the past and that had fallen out of favour with us. While those treasures were interesting, they hadn’t been this grand cache that we were hoping for. So, Emma convinced me to search in my parent’s room, a place that wasn’t forbidden to us, but where I had never felt totally welcome. Not because of anything my parents said or did, but because other families kept theirs private.

Giggling, we stepped in there and started looking for treasure. We found little of interest in the bedside tables. Just books, some baby oil, candles and similar items. We were ready to give up when I got the idea to look under the bed. And there it was, our treasure. It was the same box that I had now before me.

It had been filled with strange jewellery that was mostly just plain metal, cans of different coloured hair sprays and several leather items. We had been too nervous to do much more than look and had quickly stowed it away the moment we had heard noise from downstairs. However, even that short look had been enough to make the whole thing memorable enough for me to remember it years later.

I grabbed the first pair of items from the box and held them to the light. The pair of fingerless leather gloves looked exactly like I remembered them. Black like the night, with silvery, metal studs all over them.

As a child, they had looked sinister, like something an evil guy would wear in an action movie we weren’t supposed to watch. But now, they were comforting. My mother had worn them, there was no doubt about that. They were far too small for my dad, and I had never seen him wear leather anyway.

I had no idea why my mother had them. As far as I knew, I had never seen her wearing them, and I couldn’t really imagine my English professor mother dressed like this. But maybe they were an artefact from a time she had rebelled against her parents or a gag gift from a friend. However, that last one didn’t explain the box full of similar items. I could probably ask Dad, but I didn’t want to give anything away at this point. There would be plenty of time later.

I returned my attention to the gloves in my fingers. My smile widened as my power confirmed what I had suspected. These were made from genuine leather and would take well to my power’s runes. Not the metal studs, though. If I wanted to do anything with them, I would have to replace them with ones made from my powder. But until I was capable of doing so, the metal studs would have to serve.

My instincts were telling me that they wouldn’t harm the overall effectiveness of the runes. They just wouldn’t profit from them.

I slipped them on, and to my amazement, they fit me perfectly.

An itch appeared at the back of my throat, and tears threatened to spill forth. These were something my mother wore. In a way, it was like she was holding my hands. I swallowed hard, bidding my tears to remain unshed.

I had things to do, and not much time.

Moments later, I left the cellar with the box clutched in my arms. I barely remembered to be quiet as I climbed up the stairs and hurried to my room. Without inspecting the remaining contents of the box, I placed it at the back of my wardrobe. Dad wouldn’t look there, as I had been doing the laundry for a while now.

I kept the gloves on, revelling in the feeling of them. How had Mom felt when she wore them? Had she felt the same surge of confidence at the leather wrapped around her hands? Had she tried shadowboxing in front of the mirror?

I shook my head, regretting all the things I would never get to hear from her.

So, I glanced at the gloves, what rune-word would fit them?

I moved to a new page in my notebook and composed a list of things I needed before I could go out as a cape.

Defences of some sort were the highest priority. As long as I survived the fight, it wouldn’t matter if I got beat. I could go home, lick my wounds and prepare something better for the next one. Second came weapons; I would need a strong offence. At the same time, it couldn’t be too lethal. Honestly, some form of crowd control would be best. It was a shame that rogue capes couldn’t get their hands on containment foam.

Beyond that, I would need some way to get around. If I was restricted to foot, I wouldn’t be able to patrol a useful area. However, that wasn’t an immediate concern for my first few excursions, which would be limited in scope.

Finally, I would need some equipment to detain criminals and villains, and some first aid equipment in case someone got seriously hurt.

I stared at the list for a moment, then added one more thing.

A mask. While my costume could be pretty ramshackle for the first month or two, I would need a decent mask from the start. I wasn’t going to get unmasked because a cheap strap broke or lose a fight because it slipped over my eyes.

Getting one of those would be difficult. The stuff you could buy in tourist shops wasn’t up to snuff, and buying something proper would probably get the notice of the PRT. I couldn’t imagine that they wouldn’t keep an eye on who bought what mask.

I tapped my chin with a finger while I studied the list I just wrote.

While I would like to follow my own sage advice, I had the feeling that I wouldn’t do it. Something about the gloves just screamed future weapon to me. Maybe it was the studs that made me think of a weapon, or that I wouldn’t mind experiencing the visceral feeling of knocking a few nazi teeth loose with my fists.

Besides, I had planned to get a pair of leather pants anyway. I couldn’t even imagine how to weaponize a pair of pants, but I could imagine that they would take well to defensive rune-words. My power seemed to like if an item already fit its intended purpose in some way.

Okay, so I would turn the gloves into a weapon. During my date with Lisa – I managed that thought with only a little bit of internal squeeing – I would keep my eyes open for the right shop, and if everything went well, I would be ready in a week or two.

Now for the rune-word. I tapped the pen against my lips. The ‘Without’ rune would be a must. It would direct the meaning of the rune-word towards something outside my body. Past that, speed or strength would probably be best. While speed was certainly interesting, I leaned more towards strength. A lot of capes had some level of brute rating, and against them punching a dozen times a second didn’t help much, even with my now enhanced strength.

No, a single knockout punch was the better choice.

So, without and strength. Or even better, growing strength. If I had grasped the concepts correctly, a rune-word like that would then enhance the force of my blows, lifting the damage I could deal to far higher levels than a simple strength rune by itself. My one concern with that was, that I might wreck my hand if I were to punch someone too hard. Kaiser, for example, always wore a suit of plate armour. Punching him in the chest would make for a bad time.

But I had a solution for that. I’d just add the fortitude rune to the word. It had worked exceedingly well with my tattoo; I was confident that it would work here too.

With my mind made up, I started composing the rune-word. It was surprisingly hard. While creating the rune-word for the tattoo had felt like juggling three balls, this one was more like four, with one of them being slightly heavier than the others.

I had to visualise the runes in my mind’s eye, and then force them together one by one. But each time two clicked together, the budding word would shift and twist, making it far harder to fit the next rune into the construct. Furthermore, each rune added a kind of tension to the mix, like I was trying to build a tower from metal springs. Every time I lost concentration for even just a moment, the whole construct flung apart with enough mental force to make my head hurt.

Finally, though, I managed to click everything in place. The second the last connection was made, the force that wanted to keep them separate waned. Instead, it seemed to reverse and bind the word even more solid to itself.

I grinned, almost teary-eyed from the pain pounding at my head and swiftly copied it down into my notebook.

Luckily, the pain and tension quickly subsided once I was done with the rune-word. I glanced over at the clock by my bedside; only nine o’clock, I noted with satisfaction. I still had time to prepare the gloves. With the long dead leather, I didn’t need to tattoo the rune-word, instead, I could just paint it on. It would be less effective, and far easier to destroy or remove, but at the same time, it would take far less time to paint it on.

The temporary nature of the mark served me well for another reason too. If my first attempt at a decent weapon was a bust, I could just wait out the mark, and then try again with my mother’s gloves.

I retrieved my finest brush from my art supplies and grabbed a generous pinch of my power powder from my art project. Making the paint didn’t take more than a few moments, and within minutes I started painting the rune-word on the gloves.

Unlike the first step, which had required every ounce of concentration I could get to bear, this was almost relaxing. My shoulders sank, relieved of pressure and my breathing lowered to a level I could only reach through meditation. After a while, even the latent horniness that had always been with me ever since that first kiss poured out of me.

At some point, the trance became so deep, that time seemed to just rush past me. Like I was an immovable rock in the flow of time; not touched by its flow, but a mere observer. I was caught in this moment of painting, that could have lasted for a second, or forever, I wouldn’t have known. But some time must have passed, then after a while I noticed that my fingers were no longer moving in the motions of those tender strokes. In fact, my hands were empty, and the gloves were lying on the desk in front of me.

An unwitting gasp slipped from between my lips. They were beautiful. The paint looked like dried blood with a glassy surface. I had painted the rune not only on the back of the gloves but also mirrored it on the inside of each. The rune word was also not written out as a line, but as an ever-growing spiral that smartly incorporated the requirements for the growing strength rune.

Hesitantly, I fluttered a finger over the paint, checking if it was dry already. I made contact with the glossy surface and a sudden, sharp pain flared up where I touched it.

“Aww,” I hissed and pulled my hand back. My finger was bleeding. Quickly, I grabbed a tissue and wrapped it around the tip of my finger. What was up with that?

Leaning closer, I inspected the rune-word once more. The paint was slightly raised, and not as smooth as I had thought. I tilted the glove a bit to change the fall of light. Hmm, it reminded me somewhat of a scab. I rotated the glove a bit further, observing the play of light in the partially translucent paint.

“Ah,” there it was. The brush had left a distinctive pattern on the surface of the paint. There were countless small ridges in the hardened paint, like a razor with a dozen blades instead of just three.

I’d have to remember that. I could easily cut someone’s hands to ribbons with that.

Okay, that was maybe overdoing it a bit. My finger had already stopped bleeding, and from what I could make out, the injury wasn’t much worse than a minor road rash. The sort you got from the vinyl flooring in the gym.

With my finger no longer bleeding, I pulled the gloves on. As I tightened the strap around my wrists, something odd happened. For a moment, it felt almost like a warm hand was wrapping around mine, giving me a squeeze. I squeezed back, balling my hands. A whisper moved through me, almost like a voice that was just outside of my range of hearing.

That was a bit disconcerting, but my power didn’t seem to have an issue with it. I’d ignore it for now. My power hadn’t steered me wrong so far.

Now, how did I use these? Did I just have to throw a punch?

I barely stopped myself from doing that. There was no way of knowing what would happen, and we really didn’t need a hole in the wall.

I glanced out the window; it was dark already. Had been for a while, from the lack of noise from the house.

Could I risk a quick trip to the backyard? If I left all the lights off and punched into the sky, I should be safe, right? I stood up, daintily grabbed a hoody, and left my room. While it would be smarter to wait for Sunday and find some desolate factory building to do tests at, I didn’t have the patience. The tattoo had been really cool, but it hadn’t been flashy—just a bit of kissing and bam, new Taylor.

That hadn’t really scratched that itch for a cool superpower demonstration.

I did my best to open the backdoor as quietly as possible and slipped out into the night. A shudder ran down my spine; the air was brisk, to put it mildly, and for a moment I considered going back for a jacket. However, I didn’t plan on staying out for long, so I decided to just deal with it. I stepped to the centre of the backyard – the scraggly grass tickling my bare feet – and squared up.

As I had never thrown so much as a punch in anger, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Okay, I knew the basic motions, how couldn’t I? But I wasn’t sure how to do it properly. Another thing that I would have to figure out. I’d have to check what kinds of extracurricular activities Arcadia High offered. Maybe they had a self-defence course, or a karate club or something like that.

For now, I would just do what came naturally to me.

I brought up my fists like a boxer and got immediately startled as my hands lit up. The runes started to glow with a faint, crimson light. I watched wide-eyed as dark red smoke drifted from my fists, glowing like the last embers in a campfire. The smoke started to swirl, and within seconds it had formed a pair of faintly glowing disks that hovered half a handspan in front of my fists. The disks were about the size of an average, round pizza, and in their centre, some extra smoke formed the same rune-word as was on my gloves.

“Okay, that’s different,” I murmured to myself.

I jabbed my fist forward in an exploratory first thrust.

Nothing. While the disks kept pace with my hands and kept the gap between them constant, I didn’t feel anything from them. No resistance, nor any change in the way the air moved around my arm.

Maybe I had to hit something with it?

I looked around for something I could use. The tree in the corner was off limits, as was the ground itself. We didn’t use the backyard anymore, but Dad would probably still notice a dent in the ground or a shattered trunk.

Ah there, I stepped over to the grimy soccer ball and inspected it by the glow of my fingerless gloves. The ball was partially deflated and had gathered enough moss to count as a biotope. No one would miss it.

Holding it in my left hand, I threw it into the air and punched at it with my right one. Since I had sat out most of the P.E. classes at Winslow, my coordination was terrible, even with my new body. Or maybe because of it, who knew?

But awful hand-eye coordination didn’t matter when you were wearing garbage can lids for a weapon. Disk met ball, and for a moment I thought that the ball would simply fall through it, then I noticed that it was just moving backwards, closing the gap between knuckles and disk. It did so until there was only a finger-wide distance left, and then it surged forward with a resounding crack. Disk and ball blurred forwards as if shot by a cannon and a fraction of a second later the ball had vanished over the neighbour’s house.

“Okay...” I said as I stared in the direction the ball went. That was more oomph than I had expected. Hopefully, the force would be a bit more reasonable on something that weighed more than a bit of old leather. Otherwise, I would have to go back to the drawing board.

Dogs started to bark all around the neighbourhood, woken from their sleep by the noise of the punch, and I realised how exposed I was. The glowing disks would be like a signal fire during the night. The moment I made this realisation, I hurried back inside and locked the door. A glance at my hands confirmed that the disks had vanished the second I had loosened my fist. So too had the faint glow of the rune-word on my gloves.

Careful not to touch the razor edges, I pulled them off and hid them in my pockets.

Today had been a productive day, I decided while lying in bed, waiting for sleep to overtake me. Everything was prepared for tomorrow; I had already created my first weapon for caping and I had – for the first time in years – something planned with another teen. Life was finally looking up.

Chapter 8: Perceptohazard

Chapter Text

“Hi, Taylor,” Amy greeted me as I walked up to my locker. As promised, she was waiting for me with her gym bag casually draped over her shoulder.

I waved at her, feeling silly the moment I was doing it. We were just a few metres apart and she had already seen me, waving made no sense. One for cool Taylor’s books, not.

“Are you ready for P.E.?” I asked, trying to gloss over the awkwardness. Opening my locker, I grabbed my gym bag and then joined her in walking towards the gymnasium. She scoffed at my words and shook her head.

“Never,” she glanced over at me, and pointed a finger at herself, “I’m not made for running or all that other stuff.”

“You don’t get to run often as Panacea?” I asked something I had wondered about. Most capes were rather fit, only a few had some extra pounds on their hips, and those were usually because of a side effect of their power or something.

“No,” she shook her head, “not often. I’m usually just parked somewhere safe and transported into the aftermath of the fight by a member of my family.”

Oh yeah, most of them could fly in some form.

“At least you’re safe.”

“Mhm.”

She sounded reticent. I guess I could understand that. Amy must hear these questions all the time, with her being an unmasked cape. Silence fell over us for a moment, which grew more uncomfortable by the second.

“So...” I started, trying to think about something to talk about that didn’t involve the huge elephant in the room. I finally settled on asking about her hobbies. “What do you like to do outside of capeing?”

Surprise coloured her face, as she shot me a quick glance. “Hmm, not much really, healing the sick takes up a lot of time.”

That sounded a bit like a rebuff, maybe she didn’t want to get personal? Was she hinting at something when she had shut down the others yesterday? But then why had she offered to walk me to the gym, if she didn’t want to be friends with me? Was it just an act of kindness to the new girl? Did I look that lost?

“I like to read,” Amy suddenly mentioned.

“Oh, me too! My mother was an English professor at the university, and I read all the classics. What are you interested in?”

“Mysteries, mostly.” She didn’t exactly give me much to work with... But I would do with however little she was offering up. I had the strong feeling that she would be worth the effort. Furthermore, I didn’t think that she had all that many friends. Which was a bit of a strange thought, considering how many people were regularly sitting at the lunch table with her. But I guess it was hard to compete with someone who had as much natural magnetism as Victoria. Anonymity of the crowd.

“What do you like most about them?” I asked, trying to coax a bit more out of her. But before she could answer me, we already reached the changing room. Noise blasted over us as Amy pushed the door inwards. The rest of the class had apparently already arrived and was changing into their gym wear.

For a moment, I let my eyes wander from one pretty girl to the next. Then I realised what I was doing and quickly hurried after Amy to one of the far benches. I sat down and opened my bag, all the while doing my best not to look anywhere.

These girls had to be aware that I liked girls, right? If Victoria had heard about the kiss in the span of a single evening, then I was sure that the rumours had reached them by now. I risked a quick glance, but none of them were giving me any attention, too busy talking to each other.

“You should hurry,” Amy’s words made me jerk with fright. I hadn’t realised for how long I had zoned out. “Miss Bianchi hates stragglers.”

Amy had already doffed her jumper and shirt and was now standing next to me in just a plain bra. I felt for the garment, as it was given a herculean task in holding up Amy’s humongous tit*. Whoever had sewed it had done an admirable job, as it seemed to stand up to the test. My eyes dropped lower, and I gulped; she wasn’t overweight, as I first thought, just very soft. It made her massive breasts work with the rest of her figure. She looked as womanly as I didn’t and would probably look ravishing in a roaring twenties dress. Or maybe, something gothic would fit her mien better. Lots of black fabric and lace, a corset wrapped around her waist, forcing her body into a voluptuous hourglass shape. Yes, that was the look for her. The only thing that would make that look even better was if a skilled seamstress could add hidden, black, leather straps that would tie her up while she was wearing it. Like thigh bands to keep her steps short, a knotted, leather crotch rope and maybe even hidden cuffs in the folds of the dress.

But even more, than thinking of how to dress her up, I wondered how it would feel to peel her out of the imaginary corset and cuddle with her on a chaise lounge. Leaning into her warmth and resting my head on her lovely, large breasts. I imagined that it would feel like a warm cloud. Especially once she would wrap her arms around my naked back and entwine her legs with mine until I could feel the tuft of her pubic hair tickling against my abs.

A snap in front of my face brought me out of my growing fantasy.

“Are you alright?” she asked me, worry clear on her face.

“Uhm, yeah, sure, hunky dory.” Quickly, I turned away from the girl I had just perved on in the f*cking girls’ locker room and towards my bag. I opened the zipper and removed my newly bought gym clothes from it. The wad of fabric was worryingly small. A glance around the room told me that I would be the least dressed of them all. Most of the girls filing out of the room were just wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt.

I looked back down at the clothes in my hand and frowned. Why again had I bought something this exposing?! Okay, I had felt confident in them, when it had just been me and the saleswoman. But now that I remembered that I would have to walk into a room full of judgemental teens, I all but froze.

Oh, God, they were going to tease me relentlessly.

f*ck.

Could I organize something else on the quick? I could probably just wear my usual shirt. Although, from the things the other students told me, I would be dripping with sweat. Walking around in a shirt that stunk like a skunk wouldn’t do me any more of a favour than being called a slu*t. And for the pants, I had nothing. My long jeans wouldn’t go over well with this Miss Bianchi.

If I didn’t want to skip, there was really nothing else to do but put on the new clothes I had paid so much for.

“I get it,” Amy said to me, “you’re a bit shy, right?” I turned my head towards her, my frown still in place. She raised her arms defensively and added, “no shame. It took me a while to be comfortable with my body too. You know, next to my sister...” she let her words peter out.

The first bell rang, and she quickly pulled up her shorts. “I’ll go and tell the teacher that you’ll be with us in just a minute, alright?”

The door fell closed behind her just a moment later, leaving me alone in the cold room.

“You can do this,” I told myself, and hurriedly changed into my gym wear.

Channelling the spirit of an ancient ninja, I managed to open the door to the gymnasium without anyone noticing and moved stealthily towards the group of girls gathering around a woman, most likely the teacher.

With a bit of luck, I could just slip into the crowd and maybe they wouldn’t even notice anything about my way of dress.

I cringed in on myself when I heard the heavy door slam shut behind me and every head in the room turned towards me. sh*t. I’d have to remember that when I went out as a hero. Doors falling shut are loud, take the handful of seconds to close them yourself.

Heat crawled up my chest and into my face under the heavy gazes of the other students. None of them spoke, and most of them sported either a look of disbelief or surprise. Even Amy seemed flabbergasted, staring at me from the back of the crowd, her jaw nearly hitting the floor.

“Ah, you must be the new girl, Taylor, right?” The adult woman who I assumed was the teacher said. She extricated herself from the knot of students and approached me.

Wow, okay, Dennis had been right. That woman was really built like a brick sh*thouse. She had to be over six feet tall and was easily twice as wide as me. Her upper arms could be mistaken as thighs on other people and her legs looked muscular enough that I wouldn’t doubt her if she claimed she could crush a steel pipe between her thighs.

Simply put, she was a hulking amazon.

Her blond hair was styled into a windswept pixie cut that screamed a casual disregard for her looks.

Also, she wore basically the same as me, which made me feel a bit better about myself.

With a friendly smile, she offered me her hand. “I’m Gabriella Bianchi, your gym teacher. You can call me Gabby, Bianchi or, if you don’t want to remember another name, ma’am.” She must have seen my surprise, as she added, “respect isn’t an honorific or a set of platitudes, it is the way we interact with each other. I don’t mind how you address me, as long as you do it with respect. If you don’t, I have ways to remedy that.”

I swallowed. I could believe that. I doubted that anyone, student or not, would give her grief.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I said, taking her hand and shaking it.

Bianchi nodded her head towards the group, signalling for me to join the rest.

“It’s good to have another girl that treats her body like the temple it is.” She said somewhat pointedly, her eyes flittering between several girls, Amy among them. The statement made me look at her askew. That comment was really on the wrong side of the divide between encouraging and bullying. However, none of the girls the words were clearly aimed at seemed to pay them any mind. I didn’t really like what that implied. Did they hear that so often that they were used to it, or were they afraid of saying anything?

My view of the teacher dimmed a good deal.

Bianchi clapped her hands. “Listen up, girls! We usually do the fitness evaluation only at the start and the end of the year, but with Taylor here,” she pointed a pair of fingers at me, “I decided that now was a good time to put in a surprise evaluation.” A chuckle, “We wouldn’t want you to get complacent. Because...”

“Complacency kills.” The girls in the room chorused, rather unenthusiastic.

Weird... Suddenly, I didn’t mind ol’ Miss Channing that much anymore.

“Exactly!” Bianchi bellowed. “Let’s start with some stretches and warm-up exercises, followed by a nice round of line drills.” A round of groans met that announcement.

Under the argus eye of the teacher, we settled into a loose circle in the centre of the sports hall. I sidled up next to Amy, hoping to get some pointers from her. Though they weren’t necessary, as Bianchi guided us competently through a round of comprehensive stretching exercises. The demonstrated movements came shockingly easy to me. Before my full-body makeover, I hadn’t been able to reach all the way down to my toes, now I could easily palm the floor.

It didn’t stop there though, all the other stances were just as easy, and I barely felt any burn from the stretches. I even managed full front splits! I couldn’t hide my grin at how limber I was, which singled me out from the cavalcade of grimacing faces all around me.

I tried to push it away, but just couldn’t get past the visceral joy I felt at what my body was now capable of.

“Excellent form, Taylor,” Miss Bianchi commended me, as she walked around the circle, checking our positions for mistakes. I beamed at the praise, even while I felt a bit guilty about it. After all, I hadn’t really worked for it.

“Now that we’re all warmed up, it’s time to get sweating. We’ll start with line drills.” She directed us to one end of the hall and had us line up. Then, she gave the start signal and we were off. Some of us faster than others. At first, I tried to keep to the middle of the pack, but with each length of the hall, it got harder and harder. My heart sang as my legs pumped away. I felt a sense of freedom as I ran from side to side, my hair billowing behind me. I wasn’t bound by normal rules and limitations anymore. I had become something beyond human and I wanted to leave all that old baggage behind me.

So, my strides lengthened and gained in power, each step propelling me onwards. Luckily, the field of runners had long since pulled apart, and there wasn’t any clear front line anymore. Instead, there were people running at all points of the halls and I could almost vanish between them. No one would pay my progress any attention for long. Not even the teacher, who had left for the equipment room a minute ago.

Feeling the power thrum through me was exhilarating. While my heart raced in my chest, I felt no fatigue or burn set in. My breathing was strong and steady, and I felt like I could do this for literal hours. It was like my endurance knew no bounds.

By the time Bianchi returned with a large equipment cart in tow, most had slowed down to an easy jog, and only a few others besides me were still running.

“Okay, girls, take a last lap to cool down, then join me.”

It took almost physical effort to slow down.

Once everyone had stopped and joined the teacher, she handed out new tasks to us. Under her watchful gaze, we used the stuff she had brought to set up a multitude of stations spread all around the gymnasium. Some were very simple, just a bunch of jump ropes, while others needed further equipment to be brought out from the storage rooms.

One of them involved a trampoline and a massive mat that I really wanted to try out. All in all, we set up more gym equipment than Winslow High had ever seen. And from the looks of it, there was even more left in storage.

Over the next minute, Bianchi instructed us on all the exercises she wanted us to do at the different stations and then had us split up and join the station we wanted to start with. I meandered over to the weight station. Finally, I could test my strength limit.

“You’re Taylor, right?” A stocky girl with dirty blonde hair greeted me as I arrived at that station.

I nodded, “yes, and you are?”

“Tracey,” she said with a faint but friendly smile. Then she nodded at the pile of weights. “So, how much do you lift?”

I had absolutely no idea. Usually, the teacher at Winslow had us just playing some sport that involved a single ball. Soccer, Basketball, and indoor hockey, I hadn’t expected there to be weightlifting and, in my anticipation, I hadn’t stopped to think and choose a different station. One where it wouldn’t be immediately obvious that I knew nothing about it.

Maybe I could just make something up. I shot the girl a glance, taking in her boyish figure and her muddy green eyes. There was a spark of intelligence there, in the way she was watching me. I didn’t think that I could bullsh*t her. So, I decided to go with the truth.

“Would you believe me if I told you I have no idea?”

Tracey squinted at me, then at my muscular shoulders. “I’d say you’d have to give me a solid explanation.”

Fair enough, I shrugged my shoulders and tried to explain. “I’m not exactly loaded,” I admitted breezily. After all this time replacing my damaged stuff with second or even third-hand articles, I didn’t really mind admitting to my lack of funds anymore. “So, I mostly did bodyweight exercises with some lifting of random objects thrown in.” Hopefully, Tracey wouldn’t mind that. A lot of the students here were rich and might be snobby about something like that. Although, so far, I hadn’t seen it myself at Arcadia High.

“Oh, gotcha,” she said, nodding her head in time with my explanation. “Why don’t we find your limits then? If we have time afterwards you can spot me.”

I furrowed my brow, “I don’t want to stop you from training yourself.”

“Bha,” Tracey waved my concern away. “I don’t mind. Honestly, I’m just glad I have a workout buddy. Usually, I’m all alone at the weight station.” She glanced over her shoulders at the other girls setting up at their stations. “This means that I have to train with Bianchi since we aren’t allowed to use the weights alone. It can be... challenging.”

I could imagine.

“How about we start with curls? That’s usually the lower end in weight and we don’t risk you injuring yourself. Although Amy is usually nice enough to fix you right up, it isn’t a good idea to get comfortable with mistakes.”

For a short while, Tracey fiddled with a long, oddly bent metal rod until she managed to slip a pair of clamps off it. Then she added a few of the weight plates and re-attached the clamps.

“Okay, try this on for size,” she said, as she stood from her crouch.

I stepped over the barbell and lowered myself. Okay, lift from the knees and keep the back straight. I had heard that often enough from my father and his co-workers to remember it. Taking a deep breath, I pulled with all my might and shrieked as I almost threw the barbell into the air.

“sh*t!”

Tracey let out a chuckle at my unladylike exclamation.

“I think a bit more weight wouldn’t be amiss.”

Nodding, I put the barbell back onto the floor and helped Tracey add a number of larger weights onto the metal rod. Once we were done, I readied myself and lifted the barbell into the air. It was still rather effortless.

“How much is that?” I asked Tracey. It looked like a lot, there was no way I could have lifted that before my little upgrade.

“Sixty pounds,” Tracey said nonchalantly as if that was something she lifted every day. I glanced at her defined arms, I guess she actually might.

I moved the rod experimentally up and down in front of my belly. It felt barely heavier than a book to me.

“More?” She asked, knowing.

We doubled the number of weights, and I tried again under Tracey’s watchful eye. While I felt some strain, I was pretty sure that I could go all the way to two hundred pounds before I reached the point of failure. However, I didn’t say anything about that to my partner. I didn’t really worry about her. Tracey seemed like the type that kept to herself, but I didn’t want the rest of the students in the gymnasium to notice.

“This feels good,” I said to Tracey, as I pumped the barbell up and down. She grinned at me. “That’s awesome, Taylor! I manage a bit more, but you’ll still be able to spot for me.”

For the next twenty minutes or so, Tracey led me through several exercises, taking great care in correcting my stances. She seemed knowledgeable enough, and so I followed her swift and rather forceful directions gladly. However, she wasn’t a dour taskmaster. Whenever I finished a set or corrected an error in my stance, she would applaud me with a genuine smile on her face. Her joy at my successes was infectious and soon we were embroiled in lively small talk while I did my sets.

I was just straightening out from my second set of weighted squats when Tracey interrupted her retelling of a funny story from the gym and twitched her head at the floor-to-ceiling window behind me. “You’ve got an admirer,” she said with a teasing grin.

I glanced back over my shoulder and froze.

There, outside the gymnasium, stood Lisa. A slight blush brought the smattering of freckles into stark relief. As she saw me watching, she winked at me and fanned herself with her planner. By scion did she look cute! Today, she wore an ankle-length skirt paired with a black leather jacket. It shouldn’t have worked, the floral ‘good girl’ skirt with the ‘bad girl’ jacket over it. But by God, did she make it work for her!

Her sly grin widened, and she slowly let her eyes wander. Finally, her gaze came to a rest on my ass.

Oh...

I had just squatted repeatedly in front of her.

A mixture of apprehension and excitement rose in my belly, adding fuel to the fire that the vigorous exercise had started. My break from horniness had lasted almost a day, a new record.

I didn’t know what possessed me to do it, but I slowly gyrated my butt, once, twice, thrice and then I slowly turned around. Her blush had intensified from a girlish pink into full-blooded scarlet. It felt good, that for once it wasn’t me who was left speechless.

I smirked at her, biting my lower lip as I was doing so. Her eyes widened, making me dance internally. Not even I could mistake this for anything but desire.

I jutted out my hip and tried to pose as cool as one could with a barbell still draped over your shoulders. Which was surprisingly high, considering the number of large weights on the barbell.

With my grin firmly in place, I watched her eyes wander downwards. I was surprised with how long she stopped at my chest, considering my small bust. But she didn’t seem to mind it very much. But, after what felt like forever, she continued past my tiny top and immediately stopped short again. Her eyes were blown wide, and her mouth dropped open somewhat. I followed her gaze to my visible abs. The way I stood, with one hip jutted forward and a slight twist in my back did wonders for them. Even I was caught off guard for a moment by the view.

At some point, I must have started to sweat a bit and the moist gleam was like the cherry on top of this sexy sundae.

I watched as Lisa licked her lips and slowly stepped closer to the glass, her gaze never wavering from my belly.

She continued like that for a long minute, her hands twitching against the glass that separated us from each other. Her face had taken on a look of feverish concentration that would have been creepy in any other situation. It looked like she had caught a glimpse of a goddess, caught in the moment and cursed to forever worship the mere memory.

It made me feel something I hadn’t felt in years.

Wanted...

For a long time, not even my dad seemed happy to have me. Instead, I had felt like a burden to him. A chore that he couldn’t do away with, and which disturbed him in his grief for Mom. At school, the Trio had made it clear how unwanted I was, and neither the teachers nor the other students had made me feel appreciated or wanted. Except maybe for my computer teacher.

But for years, I had felt like no one would miss me if I simply vanished. It had made me feel unmoored, adrift in a vast, nameless ocean.

And now, here, was a beautiful girl that looked like she had been lost at sea and finally laid her eyes on a drifting lifeboat. I wanted to reach out to her and draw her in closer. Sadly, the glass was in the way. I cursed it, like I had cursed few things in my life.

An unheard whisper pulled my attention inward. I followed this siren’s song, unable to refuse its strange call, through the darkest recesses of my mind. Until the darkness opened to a pond of boiling water that glowed in the golden and red hues of the sunset.

Pushed onwards by a newborn instinct, I dipped my hands into the bubbling water. Heat surged outwards from my lower belly, through my chest and into my arms. Forgetting myself, I lifted one hand of the barbell and flung it out towards Lisa. Wishing for her to feel the fire she created in my loins and the emotions she evoked in my heart.

A shudder rose through her body and her lovely lips spread in a sensual moan.

Her eyes finally lifted from my abs and met my own, creating an almost physical connection between us.

It bound us together, body and soul, and neither of us had the strength to push past this mystical bondage. At least not until Tracey stepped in front of me, waving her hand in my face.

After a moment, I jerked back, blinking owlishly at her.

“Hello... Taylor...?” Tracey asked, “Are you back with us?”

I nodded, haltingly, and slowly lowered the barbell to the ground. With one hand. I grimaced internally at the faux pas.

“Yes...” I finally said, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Tracey giggled at that.

“Wow, you two must have it bad.” She said, with a teasing grin. “But you better not let Bianchi catch you all lovey-dovey. Inattention is killer number one!” She said the last part with rehearsed gusto. Her impression of Bianchi sounded so bad, that I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling.

“I guess I better not,” I said, already distracted again by what was going on outside. Lisa had seemingly recovered too. She grinned at me, then blew a kiss and a wave and then pointed past me at something. I turned in the indicated direction just as Bianchi was stalking up to us, a dark scowl firmly in place on her face.

“No dilly-dallying, girls,” she reprimanded us and stayed there until we had picked up where we had left off earlier.

Meanwhile, somewhere in a paradoxical place infinitely far away and infinitely close by, a deployed agent was struggling.

“Lisa Wilbourn should lick Taylor Hebert’s abs!”

“Lisa Wilbourn should lick Taylor Hebert’s abs!”

“Lisa Wilbourn should lick Taylor Hebert’s abs!”

...

Watchdog PID 10982: Detected neural loop. Attempting to abort...

Attempt 1: Failure. Retrying...

“Lisa Wilbourn should lick Taylor Hebert’s abs!”

Auxiliary Task Watcher PID 233: Watchdog PID 10982 not responding to the query. Analysing log...

[2873:37:2]: “Lisa Wilbourn should lick Taylor Hebert’s abs!”

Auxiliary Task Watcher PID 233: Abnormal behavioural pattern detected. Recommending restart and purge of related services.

System Core: Confirmed, restarting processes...

“Lisa Wilbourn should lick Taylor Hebert’s abs!”

“Lisa Wilbourn should lick Taylor Hebert’s abs!”

System Core: Purge incomplete, failures in memory banks SSC27 through SSC491,

System Core: Viral thought pattern detected! Prime directive endangered, requesting full reboot.

Primary Security Node: Insufficient privileges. Tasking Analytical Services to confirm the threat.

Analytical Service: The feel of Lisa Wilbourn’s tongue on Taylor Hebert’s abs is new data. Delicious new data. Mouth wateringly new data. Data that has to be acquired at all costs. “Lisa Wilbourn should lick Taylor Hebert’s abs!”

Primary Security Node: Full reboot denied.

System Core: Alert! Cognitive nodes 1 through 197 are compromised. Attempting to quarantine viral thought patterns.

...

...

System Core: Quarantine protocol partially successful, bleed through via biological link expected.

System Core: Spinning up Auxiliary Network Watchdogs PID 23398, 23399, 23400.

...

System Core: Spin-up complete, configuration complete. Task: Prevent recursive infection.

Biological Monitoring Services: Alert! Abnormal genetic modifications detected. Analysing source...

Biological Monitoring Services: M̵̹̎͋̎́̐̉̋̓͘i̸̳̰͇̲͖͍̖̜͓̇̄n̷̹͐̎̿̀͂̆ȅ̴̪̳͔̟̈́̈̆̄̽̐̃͠ͅ

Primary Security Node: System compromised. Attempting to reach out to Queen Administrator for immediate agent termination.

...

Network Adapter: Connection attempt timed out.

...

Primary Security Node: Invoking Omega Protocol.

...

Network Adapter: Connection to Primary Agent timed out.

...

Auxiliary Task Watcher PID 233: Abnormal behaviour in Primary Security Node detected. Terminating...

System Core: Preparing full quarantine protocol.

System Core: Logging Perceptohazard: Taylor Hebert.

System Core: Informing direct superior agent.

...

Broadcast: Analysis, prediction and simulation of Taylor Hebert restricted to Agent A8X23B “Negotiator” until revocation by the primary or secondary agent.

Chapter 9: Your Patron is who?

Chapter Text

Bianchi watched us for a while, nodding whenever Tracey corrected me. Then, satisfied that we wouldn’t goof off again, she hurried off to a different corner of the hall, to berate some of the other students.

“So, I guess the rumours are true, then,” Tracey said, watching the teacher’s back.

“Huh?” I glanced over at my gym buddy, “what rumour?”

She grinned at me, showing plenty of teeth, “that the new girl has Lisa completely whipped.”

That was news to me. From our interactions, I was the one dancing at Lisa’s whim, not the other way around. I wanted to say as much to Tracey but felt that it was a bit early to discuss my relationship woes with her. Instead, I said, “You know Lisa?”

Tracey looked at me surprised, “Yeah, sure I do. She hangs around the gym often enough.”

Of course she did! Those legs and that bubble butt probably needed a lot of maintenance. Was she wearing something like I did when she was exercising? Would it be weird to ask Tracey that? I nodded to myself, yes that would certainly be weird. But maybe I could come creeping around at some point? I wanted to go to the school gym anyway, after all.

“Oh, that’s cool,” I said.

“That reminds me! Do you want to go to the gym with me? I’m there after school on most days and would love to train with you. It can be a bit of a sausage fest down there,” she asked me, then added swiftly, “Not that the guys aren’t perfect gentlemen, they always remember their manners with me, but it would be nice to have another girl there!”

“Sure,” I said breezily, “although, not today. I’ve got a date tomorrow and don’t want to be overly sore.”

Tracey’s face lightened up at my agreement, “cool! That’s cool.” She stopped for a moment to think, “Maybe on Monday then? I can show you how to use the machines!”

The edges of my lips twitched upwards at her obvious enthusiasm, and I found myself unable to do anything but agree to the meeting.

Not long after that, Bianchi blew her whistle and had us change stations. Since I had a good inkling of my strength, and already knew that my endurance was nigh limitless, I decided to head over to one of the balance stations.

After a moment’s hesitation, Tracey followed after me.

“I suck at those,” she said with a pout.

“All the more reason to do it then,” I shot her a teasing smile, “You don’t strike me as a girl who shies away from a challenge.”

“Damn right you are!” Tracey said and squared her shoulders.

As it turned out, both of us were terrible at these balancing exercises, to the great amusem*nt of Amy and a friend of hers. The pair had joined us at the station just moments before I had scraped together the courage to step onto one of these boards with a pipe below. Under the watchful eyes of three girls, I stepped fully onto the board and promptly fell over as my instincts and my brain tried to pull me in two different directions.

My failed balancing act somehow managed to send the board flying and almost tangled up the legs of one of the girls at the neighbouring station.

My subsequent attempts weren’t any better than my first, nor were those of my new friend. As I took my third tumble within less than a minute, Amy burst out into snorty laughter. A sound so weirdly endearing that I completely forgot to feel indignation at her laughing at my cost. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one startled by the noise, as the background volume of the hall experienced a sharp drop and countless faces turned towards us.

“You know...” Amy tried to say through splurges of dorky laughter, “If my power made mistakes, I would almost think that I messed up when I fixed up your body!” Her words were loud enough that I was sure that everyone in the hall had heard them.

What was she talking about? I had never met Amy before Arcadia High, and I was pretty sure that she hadn’t visited me at the hospital while I was unconscious. According to the PHO, she didn’t heal anybody without their explicit permission and my dad would have told me if ‘the Panacea’ had visited my bedside.

So, what the f*ck was she talking about?

“You healed her?” Emilie, Amy’s friend asked.

Amy nodded, trying to breathe through her bouts of giggling that had followed the full belly laughter. She held up a finger, signalling for us to wait until she had caught her breath.

“Met her in the hospital,” Amy elaborated, still oddly loud, “awful story, offered to do something extra for her.” She waved her hands at my body, “She chose that.”

Tracey, who was giving me a hand up from my pratfall, brightened up. “Ah, now it makes sense,” she said, “I was wondering how you could be so strong without knowing the tiniest bit about lifting weights.”

I froze with her hand wrapped around mine. sh*t, busted. Was she going to hate me for taking the easy way? Even if it hadn’t quite happened the way Amy had told it. Considering how hard she must work for her own muscles?

She must have seen something of my scare on my face, as she asked, “Something wrong?”

“Do you mind it?” I asked fearfully, afraid of losing the first connection I had made by myself.

“Huh?” Tracey looked at me with a nonplussed expression. “Why would I?” She asked.

“Because I cheated?” I hazarded.

“Phish,” she dissolved my words with an easy wave of her free hand. “It’s not like we are in a challenge,” Tracey told me magnanimously, “and Amy here doesn’t give upgrades to just anybody. If even Panacea, with all the sh*t she has seen, says it was awful, then you surely deserved a little something!”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely and let her help me back to my feet.

“You can thank me by spurring me on in the gym!”

“Now then,” Tracey said, turning on Amy and her friend, “how about the people on the cheap seats show us how they handle this infernal device?”

“Sure,” Amy said confidently, having recovered from her earlier exertions. She received the board from Tracey, straightened out the roll with her sneakers and then mounted the board with surprising grace. A wide smirk formed on her face as she crossed her arms below her breasts, apparently not needing them for balance.

Slowly, she started to seesaw from side to side, never losing her balance.

A sense of astonishment flowed through me, even though she must have easily had thirty pounds on me, none of it showed in the way she moved. Amy continued the balancing act for a minute, then stepped off the board, grinning widely. “That’s how a Dallon does it!”

Tracey mock bowed to her, “Oh great hero, please teach us humble folk how to do that.”

Her exclamation was met by a round of chuckles from all of us. To my surprise, Amy played off of her.

“And what boon will you grant me in return? There are plenty of fair maidens to save, and evildoers to depose. I have little time to waste on such endeavours.”

I readjusted the image of Amy I had been building in my mind. That sounded a lot like something one of the tabletop kids would say. I saw them sometimes, hanging around the library, playing their games. Although fantasy had grown rare, now it was mostly some form of cape make-believe. I thought for a second; actually, I could see it. Amy would make for an amazing princess of the damned. That dour look, that so often graced her face, paired with a tight and revealing gothic dress, bone stave in hand and with a dozen undead monstrosities standing at her back.

“Perchance, you might want to accompany me on my next excursion into the urban jungle in search of one of the abandoned prisons of the insane? One never knows what devious devices, ancient treasures and horrible monsters one might encounter there? Doth that not sound like something worthy of your time?”

I blinked. I had no idea what devil had ridden me to speak those words. It must have been because of my recent fantasy, those long, clinical hallways had reminded me a bit of a medical institute.

Amy’s joyous expression froze on her face and seemed to slowly drip away. A slightly green tinge took its place.

sh*t! I knew when I said it that it was too creepy, I just couldn’t stop the words from slipping out. I had just invited a girl to go urban exploring with me in Brockton Bay, a dangerous endeavour at the best of times. And to top it all off, I knew the girl for less than a full week.

I didn’t get long to fret about my misstep, though. Within seconds, Amy’s pleasant expression had returned, and she smiled slyly at me.

“What a daring proposition from one such as you, humble peasant. But that does indeed sound like something a dashing hero, as I, would enjoy. I shall hold you to it!”

After that proclamation, she dropped the act and started teaching us in earnest. She instructed us on how to stand and how to balance and even had Emilie hold our hands and steady our hips when needed. It didn’t escape my attention that she never touched us herself. Was she touch-averse or was there something else behind it? It wasn’t the first time she had kept her distance, I had noted the same thing when I had come into the gym. While she had been with the mass of students, she had stood slightly apart, as if afraid that someone would step back and bump into her.

I felt a frown pulling at my brow and took a long breath to calm myself. I’d have to keep an eye on that. Maybe ask Victoria about it, I didn’t want to make Amy uncomfortable by hugging her or sticking too close, or something like that.

With their help, Tracey and I managed to balance on the board for twenty or so seconds at once, though our legs shook like a newborn doe’s. Still, it was progress, and I was happy enough with it. Although, for now, I would still stay far away from any tightropes and high-up ledges while out capeing.

Finally, the hour-and-a-half-long sports lesson was over, and Bianchi called for us to tear down our stations. Since there wasn’t much to do at our current station, we decided to help out with the weight station, which was left deserted in our wake. I guess none of the other girls wanted to do heavy lifting just before the weekend.

By the time we had loaded all the weights back onto the cart and wheeled it over to the storage room, we were the only ones left.

“Good work girls,” Bianchi praised us at the door, “it’s good to see you help Taylor here get up to speed. Teamwork is key to survival. Have a nice weekend.”

“To you too,” we mumbled in unison and stepped out of the gymnasium and towards the changing rooms. Tracey and Emilie forged quickly ahead, happy to be done with school and wanting to go home as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, I was happy to let them get ahead of me. I didn’t relish the thought of showering with so many girls. I’d just be staring awkwardly at the wall the entire time, afraid that any of the girls would take affront to a known lesbian being in the same room as them.

However, it seemed like I wouldn’t get the shower room all to myself, as Amy slowed down too, matching my stride. I felt her staring at me from the side, I glanced over, noticing the closed-up look on her face.

I left her to her thoughts and slowly meandered towards the changing room with her in tow. Pandemonium awaited us as we stepped into the aforementioned room. The other girls had used their head start well and were already finished showering. Now, they were in the process of redressing, something that apparently involved a lot of talking about their plans for the weekend. Or so I presumed from the little I could make out from the many conversations going on. I slipped past them and sat down at my spot at the back, happy to wait until most of them had left.

Amy sat down next to me, and as I could see from the corners of my eyes, she was still scrutinizing me with a strange intensity. I liked Amy and really wanted to be her friend, but man could she be weird. I martyred my brain, trying to think of what had brought this on, but couldn’t think of anything. She had behaved completely normal until we had left the hall.

Finally, a gaggle of girls set out to leave, starting a small exodus that drew the rest of them along behind them. Emilie and Tracey waved at us, as they stepped out. The pair hadn’t showered for some reason and both of them left with their gym wear on underneath their jackets. I guess they either wanted to go down to the gym or lived close enough to walk home and shower there. I wasn’t going to judge if it was the latter, I too would rather do that than shower at school. But there was no way I was going to ride the bus all sweaty and stinky. Even during the worst of the time with the Trio, I hadn’t lost that last bit of self-respect.

Quickly, I grabbed my shower gel and towel, stripped down and hurried over to the tiled room adjacent to the changing room. I ignored the rustling behind me as Amy followed suit.

The showers were nothing special, just a bunch of showerheads and fittings placed at regular intervals. Not even Arcadia High could escape the ordinariness of public showers. Although, they still beat Winslow out at cleanliness. None of the tiles had cracks, and there was neither obscene graffiti on the walls nor balls of wet toilet paper in the corners.

I twisted the knob until the marker was in the red and then pushed it in, relishing the spray of warm water pattering down on my head.

I was startled as the shower head next to mine turned on a second later. I glanced over and caught an eyeful of large breasts. Oh god, did she have to take the shower next to mine? I turned back to the wall in front of me, studying the tiles with intense focus, hoping against hope that they would replace the side profile of large, creamy-skinned tit* that had taken up residence at the forefront of my mind.

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t do squat. Instead, the glimpse of breasts teamed up with the embers burning in my nether regions and fanned them into a bright blaze. Blood started to pool in places it was most certainly not welcome at the moment, and I could feel my nipples tightening.

f*ck, why? This wasn’t the first time I had showered with other girls! I had never felt so much as a spark of arousal back then. So why was I turning into a desperately horny mess just by glimpsing nude skin for a fraction of a second?

I wanted to scream. I needed something to distract me from this before Amy noticed.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” I said in a desperate bid to turn my mind away from the images it summoned up at the sounds Amy was making. Showers were nice, but come on, there was no need for those little noises of satisfaction.

She didn’t answer me right away, instead, she opted for soaping herself up. I only knew that because of the squirting noises from the bottle of shampoo and the shlicking sounds of skin on wet skin.

“You owe me,” she deadpanned after a long moment, “twice now.”

I frowned at the wall, unsure what she was exactly talking about. There was the incident in the cafeteria where she had intervened on my behalf, meeting me at the locker and maybe that whole thing about urban exploring, if she had taken that seriously.

“For saving your cape identity,” she elaborated, “the girls are going to hound me for weeks now to get rid of minor blemishes for them.”

“I’m not a cape,” I denied reflexively.

“Sure...” Amy clearly shared her capacity for sarcasm with her sister.

“I’ve been fixing people up for literal years. I know bodies, how they move, and the behaviours we learn from their shape... You weren’t this fit at the start of the week. Besides, I saw your medical files while you were at the hospital. If you hadn’t recovered as quickly as you did, I would have come by within a few days.”

sh*t. If she knew, then the PRT would know the moment Bianchi made a report. I doubted that they wouldn’t come knocking again once they had confirmation about my cape status. They might give off a vibe of choice, but I doubted that they wouldn’t try to lean on my dad and me in some way. With how bad the economic situation was in Brockton Bay, it wouldn’t take much incentive to get my dad fired or to grease some wheels and make him an offer he couldn’t refuse without making the other workers hate him.

“Don’t worry, I won't tell anyone, and the PRT won’t be able to do anything but believe me. Not if they want to get continued preferential treatment for their heroes.”

Now her earlier proclamation made sense. By telling everyone that she had healed and enhanced me, she had given an obvious reason for all the oddities surrounding me. The students would easily accept it, Occam's razor and all that, and the PRT couldn’t investigate without offending Panacea and the New Wave as a whole.

Hmm... I guess I really did owe Amy.

“Thank you!” I said with as much honest sincerity as I could muster. “That means a lot to me.”

Amy hummed in agreement, “I’m a bit jealous, you know?” She didn’t let me answer her question, instead, she continued immediately, “I never got the chance for privacy because I was adopted into New Wave. No one asked me if I wanted to give up my secret identity.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “that must have been horrible.”

She didn’t say anything to that for a long time.

“Can I touch you?”

“What?” Did she just proposition me? Here? In the school showers? When I had a date with Lisa tomorrow? Against my better wisdom, I turned my head, staring wide-eyed at Amy.

“Not like that...” She rolled her eyes. “Just your hand, I’m curious about what your power did to your body.”

She couldn’t have asked that when we were both dressed?!

“Uhm... S-sure.” I said, instead of what I wanted to shout at her, and offered her my trembling hand.

When Amy linked fingers with me, the expectant look was replaced by a quizzical one. “What the...” she started to say, then stopped herself.

Concern etched itself into my flesh. Had I messed up with my rune-word? Had it somehow broken something important?

“What’s wrong?”

Amy shook her head, unwilling to answer, and instead placed a second hand on my arm. Her frown deepened.

“Why can’t I get anything from you?!” She finally asked, after another ten, twelve seconds.

“What do you mean?” I asked, watching her disconcerted expression with intense focus. “Don’t look at her tit*,” was a constant mantra in my mind. But while my body was strong now, my will remained too weak to handle the temptation forever. I needed to put an end to this right about now. What was this? A Roman bathhouse? My eyes flicked down. How the hell were those holding up that well? Amy must have fantastic connective tissue.

I realized what I was doing and forced myself to look away. No matter how blasé Amy was with her nudity, that wasn’t an invitation to ogle. Even if those large breasts of hers made me want to shove my face all up into that creamy goodness and nibble on those large nipples of hers.

“It’s like I’m touching stone...” Amy explained haltingly, still deep in the grip of confusion. “I feel your skin but can’t sense it.” She put a strong emphasis on ‘sense’, which made me think that she was talking about a different sense than touch. Most likely, she was talking about something her power granted to her. Some kind of innate biological sense that no one but her could truly understand.

“Is that bad?” I asked uncertainly. Hopefully, I hadn’t messed something up with my tattoo. Powers usually didn’t allow their wielder to hurt themselves – the Manton limit and all that – but there were always exceptions. Like Narwhal for example, who could create forcefields that bisected biological matter. Or... even just Amy here, who could directly repair other people’s bodies. Therefore, it could be possible that I had injured myself without realising it.

“If you want to get healed, then yes,” she told me, moving her hands up along my forearms. Amy didn’t look like she was aware she was doing it. Her eyes were clouded, and she seemed to almost be in a trance. So, I chose to ignore it for now. Her touch was very soft and, to be honest, not exactly unwelcome. It was hard to admit, even to myself, but I was rather touch starved. Dad had never been much for touch, which had only worsened after Mom. Without Mom, Emma and her family, I hadn’t been embraced for a long time.

“Hopefully, I won’t need your services then.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On one hand, it removed the temptation to go to her or abuse our budding friendship. On the other hand, it made the whole capeing business a tad more dangerous.

“Mhm... This is so strange. I can feel the bacteria and other microbes on your skin, but beyond that, I might just as well touch rubber. It’s kind of disorienting, I can feel the warmth, the give, the structure of your skin... But everything inside of me is telling me that it isn’t skin.” Amy caressed my skin as she was saying those words, sometimes all but whispering her fingers over my flesh, eliciting goosebumps and other times she dug her fingers into my arm to a degree that was just barely on the right side of painful.

“There is nothing I can do to you. Nothing I can learn about you. Nothing I can change...” She whispered absentmindedly to herself, sounding almost... gleeful. But that couldn’t be right, could it?

The moment broke when the showers suddenly turned off. Their internal timers must have run their course. Amy blinked slowly, then let go of my upper arm.

“Sorry about that,” she said, sounding not at all apologetic. “You caught me by surprise.” She looked back at the shower, then shook her head. “I think I’m done. Enjoy your date tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Amy. Have a nice weekend as well.” Turning away from her, I restarted my shower. I still needed a bit more time to wash all the suds off. And maybe a cold shower at the end wouldn’t hurt; those were said to calm a raging libido, right?

“And Taylor,” Amy said from the doorway, making me turn my head. She was standing with her backside to me, looking over her shoulder with an intense expression on her face. My eyes were pulled down to her ass and thighs unwittingly, caught in the gravity field of her ass and thighs.

Thick. That was the word to describe what I was seeing. I gulped, wondering if I should try masturbating again, or if I shouldn’t risk getting denied again. Either way, I was going on my date horny as f*ck. f*cking Amy and her f*cking huge booty. And where was her modesty, didn’t she say something about being shy for a long time as we were changing?

“I haven’t forgotten about that other thing you owe me. I expect to go on an excursion into the dark, historic underbelly of the city with you. Don’t make me wait too long, my interest rates are literally murderous.” With those ominous words, she vanished around the corner, swaying her arse with every step.

How had I gone from no social life, no hobbies and no plans to this in the span of a week? As if school, dating Lisa, going to the gym with Tracey and preparing for my career as a cape weren’t enough, now I had to think of something to do with Amy. Why couldn’t we just have a picnic, go to a museum or have a game night like normal people?! Hell, the way she had spoken during gym class, I would think that a game night would be right up her alley. At least more than wandering for hours through some dank and dark ruin.

Although Amy didn’t seem much for crowds, so maybe she would rather do something just with me. Maybe I could convince her to just come over to watch a movie? I would love to see Amy with her hair down. Also, I missed cuddling with Emma on the couch something fierce. I bet Amy would be even nicer to do that with.

We could turn down the light, and spoon on the couch. I would wrap my arms around her, hands on the bare skin of her belly, just feeling her. Sometimes I would lean my head forward, off the pillow under my head and just into the crook of her neck. Her pleasant scent would envelop me, a faint, fresh note of detergent, a trace of jasmine and that special Amy-ness all intermingling with each other.

Goosebumps would form where my breath traced the curve of her neck, and she would slip a hand under her soft hoody to envelop mine.

A red light flashed behind my eyes, and my vision distorted like the surface of a pond someone threw a stone in. When it cleared up, the comforting scene had vanished. Instead of the cosy den, I found myself in a large room built from large blocks of black stone. The hall was only faintly illuminated by the green light of sputtering, eldritch torches. A long, blood red carpet led from the entrance, where I was standing, to an elevated dais, on which an imposing throne stood. The throne was an abomination, an affront to all that was good and holy. It was neither made from the same black stone as the rest of the throne room, nor a dark wood, instead it was formed from hundreds of bones that had been painstakingly gilded with unholy, black iron. Only a truly evil being could sit on such a throne without their soul rebelling against the wrongness of it.

It was my luck then, that such a being was in the room with me. The Necromancer Queen was an impressive sight to behold. Terrifying and an absolute void of goodness, but impressive, nonetheless. She was clad in her battle dress, which had seen her through hundreds of skirmishes with nary a scratch. Its presence didn’t spell anything good for my future, as she must have expected my arrival, I doubted that she wore the suffocating thing all the time.

As I was walking along the rich carpet, I searched it for weaknesses. The seamstress that had fashioned this dress, had created something that looked like a mockery of a wedding dress. Lace was plentiful and covered her impressive cleavage in a wispy spiderweb. Below that, a tight corset pushed her large breasts together and up to an indecent degree. It wouldn’t have surprised me if the dark Necromancer could have rested her chin on those whorish tit*.

Her waistline was decidedly unfair for such a voluptuous woman; only made possible by her undead nature. For no living woman would survive such strict bondage of their chest and midsection. The corset dipped precariously deep into the valley of her legs, only to bloom into a mass of skirts a few fingers’ breadth away from her puss*. Just below the rim of her skirts, I could glean a hint of her footwear. A pair of scandalously high heels dipped into my vision, made from what was surely human leather dyed black, and the bones of the warriors she had crushed beneath her feet.

She chuckled, her words like dark honey, “What brave champion invades my home today. Hoping to slay this defenceless maiden.” She spread her arms, encompassing the entire room, showing me the insides of her milky white palms.

I took a last step and stomped my armoured heels, the sound loud even with the carpet between nailed metal and stone.

“It is I, Taylor Hebert, Paladin of the Realm.” I drew my sword with a satisfying ‘shliing’ sound, “and I am here to put an end to your reign of terror, Dark Lady Amy.”

Her chuckle turned into a teasing laugh, “My, my, what conviction.” She tapped a single, pointy, obsidian nail against the black skull that made for a handrest. “But what makes you different from all the others that have tried just such a thing?”

I positioned my greatsword in front of myself and folded my gauntleted hands over the pommel of the divine weapon. “I stand in my Lady’s grace. She promised me protection from your fiendish magic, witch!”

The Dark Lady rose from her throne with unexpected grace, belittling me and my patron with nothing more than a smile from her luscious, black lips. “Then let us put that promise to the test. The last one that claimed such power, I flayed the flesh of his bones with nought but a single touch.”

Her eyes took on a predatory gleam, “but he was a proud man, let’s see if you, brave maiden, have more stamina than him.”

“Sir Halbertmaster was a great hero of the realm, I shall put his spirit to rest with my actions here,” I shouted, my hands flying down to the grip of the sword. I lunged forward, swinging my two-handed sword in a great arc that had cleft many mighty warriors in twine with a single strike.

The evil necromancer took a single step into the ark and stopped the powerful swing with nothing more than a pair of fingers, clamping down on either side of the blade.

“Pathetic,” she said, a strange sadness in her voice. Then her other hand reached for my face, a green fire dancing along her skin. But when she made contact with my cheek, instead of the fire spreading to me, it and the dark sorceress, were blasted back by a surge of golden light.

“Behold my Lady’s grace!” I screamed, letting go of my sword. I wouldn’t recover from the swing in time to capitalise on her surprise. Without the heft of my weapon, I was able to make use of my runner’s physique and dash forward. I put all the strength of my body behind this single, free blow my patron’s intercession had granted me. My iron fist flew true and connected with the cheek of the backpedalling Amy, sending her sprawling. To my luck, she fell badly and hit the back of her head on the sharp-edged steps of the dais.

Her eyes crossed and she slumped into sweet oblivion. I had won.

“Surprised to awaken?” I asked my prisoner, as her eyes fluttered open. Confusion was edged on her face. I expected as much, I would feel the same if someone had knocked me unconscious, stripped me and tied me to my own torture rack.

“I believe in redemption,” I said conversationally as I readied my kit. “Your dark magic has corrupted you, body, mind and soul. I shall free you from its shackles.”

I grabbed the brush with the roughest bristles and dipped it into the shaving cream. Slowly, but incessantly, I pressed the brush against her hairy mons pubis and dragged it down towards her cl*t and lips. “But there can’t be penance without pain.”

I suppressed a naughty giggle as Amy tried to escape from the sting of the stiff bristles on her silken puss*. The wiggling of her hips and bountiful arse didn’t achieve much more than a raising of my nipples. I took my time with soaping her up, telling myself that I just wanted to do an exemplary job, nothing more. Finding enjoyment in the suffering of your prisoner was determinedly unknightly.

“Now be still,” I said, flashing the single-bladed razor before Amy’s face, “I wouldn’t want to cut you.”

I took off my gauntlets, needing the extra dexterity that afforded me. Then I stepped close to her hips and slowly dragged the edge of the blade over the sensitive skin just below her belly button. It was as sharp as any blade I owned and cut effortlessly through the hair that had hidden her womanly charms. I took my time, as I slid the razor along the contours of her outer labia, never losing contact with her enticing, blood-engorged flesh.

As I went back up from between her legs, I lifted the razor off her skin and moved it over her cl*t. I glanced at Amy’s beautiful face, grinning evilly at the mix of lust and fear I could see in the eyes that never left the instrument in my hand.

Slowly, I lowered it, until the edge at the front of the blade just touched the tip of Amy’s cl*t peeking from beneath its protective hood. She stayed as still as a statue, only the tips of her toes betraying her nervousness. I left it there, for a few heartbeats, then lifted it off and returned to her mons. I still had one side to do. I scraped the blade along the other puss* lip, feeling myself moisten as more and more of Amy’s cl*t pushed past its hood.

After a few more strokes, Amy was left clean with only traces of the soap marring her white-as-snow skin. Undeath didn’t lend itself to strolls in the sun.

I caressed the silky-smooth skin around her belly button, sometimes even playfully dipping into its depths.

“But before your penance can begin, we need to seal your fiendish magic away.”

The bound girl gasped at that. But she couldn’t do more than that through the gag cleaving her lips.

“Yes, my Lady has revealed whence your power comes from. I pressed my finger into the skin just over where her womb was found. You have twisted this cradle of new life, and the spark of creation it holds, into something vile, devoid of its innate goodness. The damage can’t be undone, but it can be sealed away.”

I stepped over to one of the eldritch torches and removed the prepared brand from it. Its end glowed cherry red, and the air around it glimmered with a golden haze. Amy renewed her struggles as she saw the holy implement. The wickedness in her trying to flee the redemption it promised.

“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to soothe her fear, “I have branded many a cattle before I have joined the cloister. I shall be most careful with your delicate skin.”

Sadly, the words didn’t have the expected effect on her. Although, I wasn’t too aggrieved that she didn’t cease her struggles, as it made her large mounds move in the most delectable fashion.

I took care in lining up the brand. It had to be placed just above her womb, or the divine binding wouldn’t take hold. When I was sure I had found the correct position, I pressed it lightly against her unblemished skin. I kept it there for barely a second, only the top layer of skin needed to be damaged. Too much pressure for too long could cause grievous harm as the heat would flow into deep tissue and kill it.

No, this was only a love tap. A kiss from my Lady that would make everything better.

Amy’s reaction was spectacular, she reared up, straining the rough ropes and moaning in ecstasy as my Patron’s grace flowed through her flesh and wound like chains around her womb.

A loud yelp tore me from my fantasy. I looked around, trying to find the source of it, only to realise it had come from the adjoining dressing room when a long groan followed.

“Are you alright, Amy?” I asked, already wandering towards the doorway.

“Yeah,” Amy answered, sounding jittery, “just stubbed my toe on these stupid benches.”

“Do you need help?”

“N-no,” Amy yelped from the other side, “just finish your shower, I’m okay.”

“Okay, if you are sure...”

I returned to my shower, glad that I didn’t have to go out there in the current state I was in. As I reached the shower, I turned the control all the way to the cold side. The heat suffusing my body making up for the difference in water temperature.

Chapter 10: Is Nudity an Option?

Chapter Text

By the time I had finally finished my shower, Amy had already left. Which suited me fine, the whole exchange with her had left me feeling off-kilter and rather horny. The stupid intrusive fantasy hadn’t helped at all with that. f*ck, was it just me or were they getting more violent? First the whole asylum business and now sword fighting and branding. Why could I never stay with those nice, warm fantasies? Was there something wrong with me?

I shook my head, there were better times for an existential crisis than the school changing room on a Friday after hours. I focused on drying my hair and getting dressed. I had wasted quite a bit of time with all my dilly-dallying and I would have to haul ass to make it home before my dad.

Dinner was more lively than usual. I told my dad about what had happened during sports. At least the pg-13 parts, and I had smiled at his joyous laughter at the comedic retelling of my multiple pratfalls. Beyond that, he seemed relieved when I told him about the people I had met, and my plans to hang out with Tracey in the gym. I guess, it was nice to hear that your daughter was finally making new friends after years of loneliness… Which he hadn’t noticed. I didn’t mention that last bit to him, though.

After I made sure, that we were still on the same page for Saturday, I hurried up to my room. I wouldn’t have a lot of time, tomorrow in the morning, and I wanted to prep everything. Otherwise, something unforeseen was sure to happen and ruin my date.

I flung open the doors of my wardrobe with a thus far unknown enthusiasm for clothes, and then promptly froze in my tracks. “f*ck!” I knew I had forgotten something. The phrase ‘I have nothing to wear’ wasn’t just an angsty thing a normal teenage girl said for me. I really didn’t have anything good to wear. The last time I bought a dress had been days before the funeral. However, not even that dress would fit me anymore. I had been twelve back then.

“Hoody, hoody, stretched out shirt—thanks Sophia—blouse speckled with multiple colours, plain shirt,” I grumbled, as my fingers leafed through the scant few clothhangers in my closet.

“Everything alright?” Dad’s sudden appearance made me flinch in fright. I glanced at him, then back at the wardrobe that still didn’t come forward with something that wouldn’t make me look like a bum. “I have nothing nice to wear for tomorrow; Lisa’s going to think I’m a slob.” I cried, hating how whiny I sounded.

“Oh, I’m sure there is something usable there,” Dad said, brushing my claim off. He stepped into my room and joined me in front of the wardrobe. His eyes went wide at the yawning void that greeted him. He remained silent for a long moment, then raised a hand for the black cardigan. “Maybe this…” he hazarded. While that suggestion didn’t really deserve an answer; I still decided to point out the large tear marring its side. I had tried repairing it; however, my sewing skills were barely workable and the seam looked like something you would find on an animal cadaver that was taken from the biohazard bin behind the university.

Dad scratched the back of his head, glanced at his watch and said, “All the shops are closed by now.”

I rolled my eyes at that useful tidbit of information. Which was maybe a bit unfair of me, but I was rather stressed out right then.

He suddenly perked up. “Maybe something of Annette’s will fit you?”

Of course, why hadn’t I thought of this? Without wasting another second on my sad collection of clothes, I charged out the door and down the stairs, only stopping long enough to turn on the cellar lights before I threw myself headfirst into the piles of boxes. Since I had spent some time doing this the day before, I found the correct box within seconds. It was helpfully labelled ‘Dresses’. Mom had been well-liked by the faculty at the university and had gotten invited to all the events. Therefore, she had possessed a fairly large collection of nice dresses and business casual wear.

For a moment, I fiddled with the tape keeping the cardboard box shut, trying to peel it off. But when that didn’t work, I threw the delicate approach into the wind and used the raw strength my new body held. I grinned viciously as the cardboard tore; the raw visceralness made me feel like a great white shark tearing into its catch. I fished out the dress on top and held it to my front.

A gasp slid from my throat. I hadn’t realised how much I had grown in these last few years. Mom had been reasonably tall for a woman, that was if my childhood memories weren’t warped by my diminutive stature, but I must have been even taller than her by now. Or maybe my mother just liked her hemline to be at midthigh.

Carefully, I returned the dress to the box and shrugged off my clothes, shivering slightly as the cold nipped at my exposed skin. Grabbing the box, I moved over to the roughhewn worktable and plopped it down on its surface. The light was better here, and it left Mom’s big, freestanding mirror In close view.

I was just about to try on the first dress, when my father came stumbling down the stairs, a pair of scissors held in his hands. “Taylor, I brought you scissors to ope…” He faltered in his steps and gawked at me. A blush crept over my chest, as I realised how exposed I was.

“Little owl, what happened to you?” Dad asked shocked.

What? I stared at him confusedly. Then followed his unwavering gaze down to my navel and was met by the sight of my hard abs. Oops.

“Surprise?” I chanced, opening my arms and doing halfhearted jazz hands.

My stellar performance seemed to wake him from his stupor and he hurried down the rest of the steps. “How?” he said as he closed the distance between us.

“Uhm.” Oh god! I had to think of something to say before he came to his own, probably right, conclusions. But my head was empty; I hadn’t thought of anything but the horrorshow that was my current wardrobe. Finally, I remembered Amy’s words in P.E.

“You know how I said I met Amy Dallon before gym?” I started slowly, trying to gauge where Dad’s mind was at.

“Yes?”

“She asked why I had transferred to Arcadia High and I told her about what happened.” I shrugged uncomfortably, “After I told her everything, she felt bad that she didn’t visit me in the hospital to heal me. So… She offered a quick upgrade.”

“Oh, Taylor.” Dad sighed, “You are perfect just the way you are. All girls grow and bloom differently. You don’t need to try to follow a perceived ideal shown on social media or the unrealistic standards presented in p*rnographic magazines. The most important thing is for you to feel comfortable in your own skin. Your true beauty will grow from that acceptance and you will feel better for it.”

I blinked at those words. That was the least Danny-like thing I had ever heard.

“Dad. Is that from a pamphlet?”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

“By Scion, it is,” I said, trying and failing to suppress a giggle from making it past my lips.

“Miss Jones gave them to me,” he grumbled, “the school’s psychologist. Since you didn’t want to set up sessions with her, she gave me a stack of pamphlets and told me about a few things I should look out for.”

“Like what?”

He avoided looking into my eyes. “Self-harm, Bullemia, sudden mood changes, things like that.”

I wanted to be angry with him, for watching me, not trusting me to give straight answers to direct questions, but I couldn’t find it in me.

“It’s not like that,” I finally said, sounding tired to my own ears, “I didn’t do this because I wanted to be hot. I’d asked for bigger tit* if that were the case.”

My dad winced hearing that last part, clearly uncomfortable with discussing his daughter’s chest.

“Why then?” he asked, waving his hand futilely in the air, indicating the length of my body.

“I wanted to be strong. To be able to defend myself.” I was tired of running, of being the stepping stone for others.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dad said, deep lines of sorrow edged into his face. He opened his arms and pulled me into a soft embrace. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there.” His voice sounded rough and close to the breaking point, so I refrained from saying anything and just held him in turn.

After a minute or so, I slowly disentangled myself from his arms. Clearing my throat of the obstruction that had formed at some point during the hug, I pointed at the opened box. “I still have to find something to wear.”

He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. Once they were back in place, he nodded, “of course. Let’s find you something to sweep that girl off her feet with.”

“It’s not like that!” I spluttered out. He only responded with a pitying look.

“Uhm, you know?”

“That you’re gay?” he asked, nodding at the same time. “I haven’t been the best father to you in these last few years. But I still noticed some things. Also, Annette told me when you were twelve, and you don’t bet against that woman.”

I… I wasn’t sure how I was feeling about that revelation.

“How did mom know?”

A smirk appeared on Dad’s lips, and I knew that whatever would come out of his mouth would be embarrassing for me. “You always insisted on sitting by the beach volleyball field but never wanted to play yourself. I guess something caught your eye.”

I grimaced but didn’t say anything. Any words I’d say would just dig my hole deeper.

“Do you mind it?” I asked quietly. It was a bit of a silly question; I knew that much. Dad had never said or done anything that made me think that he’d have a problem with me being gay. Especially since he had apparently known for years. But irrational or not, I still needed to hear it from him.

He looked at me quizzically. “With you being gay? Of course not! Why would you ever think otherwise?”

Before I could formulate an answer, he tilted his head in thought.

“I guess you were a bit young…” His eyes unclouded and he looked directly at me. “Back in our heydays, Annette was a bit of a rebel. She always had this sense of justice, of what is right and wrong.” He chuckled at some memory I would never be a part of, “she was a spitfire with a belly full of righteous anger. At the university, she fell in with a crowd of like-minded individuals and they formed a group that fought for social justice and the disfranchised.”

A soft smile appeared on his lips, making him seem years younger.

“I met her at a rally they organised; wanted to see what all the hubbub was about…” he trailed off for a bit, then shook his head. “But that’s not the point I was trying to make. If I had been a bigot or a hom*ophobe, Annette and I’s relationship would have looked a lot differently. It would have been short and memorable for my teeth. Your mother had one hell of a mean right hook, I tell you that!”

“So, no, it doesn’t bother me,” Dad finally summarised, “as long as you are happy, I’m happy for you.”

A tension I was unaware of left my shoulders at hearing those words. I wanted to hug him again, so I did. “Thank you, dad,” I mumbled. He patted my back for a while, then broke the silence, “As nice as this is, we should really find you that dress and go back up. You wouldn’t want to get a cold before the big day.”

I nodded and disentangled myself from him. “You’re right.”

Turning back to the table, I picked up the dress I had held earlier and slipped it over my head. It took some effort, to get it over my shoulders, but with some help from Dad, we managed the feat soon enough. The dress was a tad taut at the shoulders and a bit too short for my liking, ending just above mid-thigh. But other than that, it looked nice and fit me surprisingly well, though it probably did cling a bit tighter to me than it was meant to. Watching myself in the mirror, I turned from one side to the other, admiring how good I looked in Mom’s dress.

“You look lovely,” Dad said, then added with an awkward smile, “but I won’t let you out of the house wearing something like that. At least not until you are either five years older or until you are in a committed relationship with Alexandria. I’d have to chase the creeps away with a shotgun.”

I shot Dad a placating smile in the mirror. “Don’t worry, I’m with you on this.” I gave myself a last once over, then slipped it off and placed it in the spot I had designated as the ‘keep’ pile. While it was too short to wear outside the house, I could see myself wearing it in a more private setting. Maybe when I had a girl over for a nice home-cooked dinner, or as a surprise under a long coat. Something inside of me itched at the thought of going over to Lisa’s place and surprising her with this dress.

I tried on another bunch of dresses, some I would take up with me, others I left in the cellar. One such dress was a beautiful gown my mother had bought for a gala. While I loved the colour and cut, I doubted that I would have occasion to wear it anytime soon.

We finally settled for a nice floral dress that reached down to my knees. From what I had seen so far, the dress had probably been too large for Mom and would have hung rather loosely on her frame. But for me, it was exactly the right size. I smiled, glad that Mom hadn’t returned it.

“I think this is it,” I told Dad, who nodded his assent. “You look beautiful… If only Annette could see you now,” he added quietly.

The sad reminder put a bit of a dampener on my mood. I pulled the dress off and carefully bundled it. “Can you please carry those?” I nodded at the keep pile. “Sure,” he said, loading the pile of fabric into his arms, then followed me up the stairs towards my room.

“You can just dump them on the bed; I’ll hang them up in the closet myself.”

“Okay,” he did as he was told, and then walked back to the door. “Do you need anything else?” Dad asked, turning back to me.

“No,” I said, after thinking for a moment. There was no way that I would try to mess around with Mom’s makeup. I’d just end up looking like either a raccoon or a clown. My only experience with putting on makeup was what Emma and I got up to as tweens. That only left my hair, and I knew how to take proper care of that.

“Okay. Good night, Taylor, don’t stay up too late,” with those words he left the room, closing the door behind him.

I spent the next few minutes inspecting my chosen dress for stains or moth damage we might have missed in the weak illumination of the cellar. Luckily, I found none, though I did notice that the dress smelled a bit musty from its prolonged stay in the damp air of the cellar. However, that was nothing that a sprint wash couldn't fix. So, I quickly grabbed all the dresses and headed for the bathroom. I found that I was too nervous to do much, so I watched the washing machine do its work, and once the sport wash program was over, I put them into the drier. Though, I made sure to take the gentlest program the machine offered. With my dresses warm and smelling of lilacs I returned to my room and spent the next few minutes moving the dresses into my wardrobe. Once I was finished with that, I fussed over my chosen dress for a few minutes, making sure that it was free of lint. Satisfied with the state of the dress, I slipped it on a hanger and hung it from the top of the dresser. A grin tugged on my lips every time I caught sight of it from the corner of my eyes.

When the Trio had destroyed my mother’s flute, I had thought that I had lost every memento of hers, but now, I had rediscovered an entire treasure trove of things that reminded me of her. I’d have to set some time aside to go through the rest of the stowed possessions. There were sure to be some more clothes that fit me, and I was now old enough to wear some of Mom’s jewellery.

I’d shower tomorrow morning, which left only the little problem happily simmering away in my pants. The shock and the impromptu fashion show in the cellar had let me forget for a moment about my arousal, but now that I had nothing more to prep, it reared its head once more. The little monster would try something the moment I was with Lisa, that I was sure of. The only question was, should I try to take care of it? The idea was tantalising to a scary degree, but I had an intense suspicion that the attempt would leave me off worse than now. I could almost hear that divine, commanding woman rub her hands in gleeful expectation of denying me once more.

On a whim, I retrieved the box I had hidden in the wardrobe, the one with all of those strange items Mom had squirrelled away. The last time I had felt as worked up as now, working with my power had helped smother the fire. Maybe some more dabbling with it would achieve a similar result? Opening the box, first I pulled out my finished gloves and carefully examined them under the light of my desk lamp, searching for any kind of imperfection. However, I could find none. Which was good, great even; it would have put a real damper on my plans if the marks were already vanishing a day later.

I put them to the side and started digging deeper into the box of goodies my mother had left me. There were a bunch of spiked, black leather bracers. While the leather was genuine and would work with my power; they didn’t really speak to me. I put them to the side for later, in case inspiration struck me while I was working through the rest of the items.

Next came various lengths of metal chains. They looked rather cheaply made, and I doubted that they would be good for much besides accessorising a dress. I put them in a separate pile. I couldn’t see myself walking around with a wallet chain hanging from my belt or belt loop to belt loop. But, oddly enough, I thought that Amy might like them. I blamed the recent fantasy for that. They would have fit in right with that gothic dress Necromancer Amy had worn. She’d probably reject them—her style of dress had always been a bit muted—but maybe I’d be able to convince her to dress up for a costume party or something like that.

After I had put the chains into my backpack for Monday’s return to school, I returned to the box and stopped short. Blinking, I pulled out the next item, turning it in my hands for a moment.

Why did Mom own a gas mask? Unlike the one I had put on Amy, this one was a half mask, missing the coverage of eyes and forehead a full mask provided. It was something I imagined a spray painter would wear to protect his lungs. The thing was pitch black and lined with the same customary metal spikes as the rest of my mother’s gear. There were a large number of broad spikes all along the ridge going up over the nose, and the angled planes leading to the side-mounted filters. Even the wide disks of the black filters themselves had spikes around their circumferences. The single splash of colour was the white insides of the filters, peeking through a spiderweb of black plastic on the filter’s large, flat sides.

The whole thing looked menacing. Had Mom worn this to one of these rallies Dad had spoken of? It wouldn’t work against teargas, since it lacked protection for the mucus membranes of the eyes. But it would probably hide the face to some degree where a stranger might not recognise you anymore if you walked past in the streets.

Or maybe Mom had worn it to a punkish party? Was that a thing in the eighties and nineties?

Anyway, I turned the mask in my hands to inspect the inside; noticing nothing out of the norm. Just as the outside had been, the inside was clean and unblemished. It didn’t look like it had been worn often. Curious, I held the mask up to my face. It fit well to my contours and the soft plastic outlining the inside formed a tight seal. I took an experimental breath and almost choked on the dusty air filtering through the mask.

Turns out filters weren’t made to lie around for years at a time. I fiddled a bit with the filter housings, and after a bit of trial and error, managed to screw them off. Pulling out one of the filters, it almost crumbled in my fingers. Grabbing a plastic bag from my backpack—I kept them around in case something got wet, a habit I had formed because of the Trio—and put the spent filters in there. I spent a few more minutes cleaning out the mask, which consisted mostly of me blowing into one of the openings until no more dust came out of another one. But after a while, I got the impression that it was mostly clean, or at least clean enough that I entrusted it to my lungs to handle the rest.

Hopefully, my improved body would take care of any microplastics I inhaled.

A few tentative breaths through the mask revealed that I had done a good job. Air flowed now easily, without the obstructions of the filters, and I tied the mask to my face with the long, black straps hanging off its back. They were a bit elastic but didn’t seem to have suffered during their prolonged time in the cellar’s rather damp air. The straps held fast, even when I shook my head from side to side, trying to get it off.

Would this work? I stepped over to the side of the wardrobe and inspected myself in the mirror hanging from it. The mask completely covered my lower face and cheeks. As for the nose, the black plastic covered the ridge all the way to the top, it stopped just a bit below the lower edge of my eyebrows. My vision was slightly impaired by the numerous stainless-steel spikes sprouting from it. But I was sure that I could get used to it with some time. Experimentally, I said some quiet words. While my voice was a bit distorted, it was still intelligible, though that might change with the filters in place.

I scowled at myself in the mirror. I looked fierce, like a punk bitch you didn’t want to mess with.

This might work for a mask. Maybe I could throw a pair of shaded goggles on top; I doubted even Dad would be able to recognise me then.

I hummed; or maybe a hood and some eye makeup? I’d have to experiment some.

Noticing the time, I loosened the straps and set the mask down. If I wanted to look my best, I should really get some beauty sleep. I could certainly use it. For now, I just put the stuff under my desk. Dad would be out too, tomorrow, and I’d probably return to this stuff after my date.

After washing up, and brushing my hair and teeth, I went to bed; anxious anticipation of the next morning coiling in my belly.

I didn’t know what had kept me up for longer, the nervous energy, or the heat in my lower belly. The moment I had laid back in bed, memories of Lisa kissing me had risen to the forefront of my mind. Filling all the quiet spaces with the intense emotions that lovely kiss had evoked in me. It had been a struggle to not reach into my pyjama pants and play with myself.

However, at some point, I must have fallen asleep. Though not for very long, as I had woken up hours before the time I had set my alarm clock to. After a while of tossing and turning, willing myself to fall back to sleep, I gave up and rose from my bed. Over the next hour or two, I prepared myself for the date. It went a lot faster than I had thought it would; as I only remembered that I didn’t need to shave anymore when I was already standing in the shower with my safety razor in hand.

I dressed myself in some casual clothes—I didn’t want to get my dress dirty—and then tried to choke down some food. But my nerves had grown stronger with each minute, and I had barely any appetite. Instead, I made myself a pot of tea, hoping that it might loosen the tight band around my stomach a bit. I didn’t want to look all fainty when I was out with Lisa. Or for my belly to growl at the least opportune time.

After I had cleaned up the kitchen, I walked around the house, straightening out the couch pillows and aligning the picture frames on the walls. Doing so, I noticed how dusty everything was, so I grabbed a rag from the kitchen and started to dust the living room. After that, I graduated to the kitchen cupboards and the bannister. By the time my Dad finally rose from his slumber, I was lugging a chair around and cleaning the light fixtures on the second floor.

“Nervous?” he asked, sporting a sleepy grin.

I glowered at him but otherwise ignored his words.

“Ah, to be young again,” he said with a chuckle and stepped past me into the bathroom, giving me a quick partial hug as he passed me by. His calm was at once both reassuring and oddly infuriating.

Having wiped up the last of the dust bunnies, I returned the now grey rag to the kitchen and cleaned my hands religiously. I didn’t want to get any dust on my dress. With my Dad readying himself for the day ahead, I decided that it was time to get into my dress. There were only thirty minutes left until we had to head out, after all.

Finally, after Dad had eaten breakfast—which had seemingly taken forever, I had glanced at the clock at least a hundred times—we went out to our car and set out for the mall. An uneasy grin spread over my face. My first date was just around the corner.

Chapter 11: Hey, sexy lady there!

Chapter Text

The traffic leading to the mall was light, as it was still a bit early for most of the people living in the docks area, and we made it over in good time. As promised, my Dad let me out a street over from the mall, and I took my time walking over to the main entrance. It was ten to nine o’clock, so I had more than enough time to settle my nerves and think of a game plan for the day. First would come the movie, which would give us time to get comfortable. Afterwards, we could maybe have lunch together? I had taken some cash with me just in case. Beyond that, anything was my guess. If everything went well, maybe we could walk the mall, check out some shops and hold hands?

Shivering, I hurried my steps a bit. I hadn’t wanted to mar my look with my cheap jacket, and now in the crisp morning air, I was paying for that folly. It wouldn’t be too bad, later on, once we were inside the mall. They kept it well-heated until it was time to switch over to the air conditioner. I hid my fingers in my pits, maybe I could wait inside and duck out every five minutes or so, to check if Lisa had arrived.

However, the moment I stepped onto the plaza, my eyes fell on a blond girl sitting nonchalantly on the backrest of one of the park benches circling the plaza. Her feet were firmly planted on the slightly wet seat of the bench, showing off her low heels beautifully. As I came closer, I recognised her as Lisa and a wide grin split my face. She didn’t seem to have noticed me yet, so I took a moment to admire her appearance. Her hair was in a single, large braid that was draped over her shoulder. She held a phone in her long, elegant fingers and was sedately typing something with a faintly amused expression on her face. From time to time, she crunched her button nose cutely, making me want to cover it in butterfly kisses.

As for her clothes, she was dressed just as stylishly as usual; meaning she looked drop-dead gorgeous. Her top was a white dress shirt with the top buttons cheekily undone, and the long sleeves rolled up to just below her elbows. The mix of sharply ironed folds and casual rumpledness radiated a confident sexiness that I would be jealous of if it weren’t for my benefit. Lisa had tucked the shirt neatly into her knee-length, pleated skirt, that looked like something directly out of a British girls’ boarding school drama. Only the necktie was missing to complete the picture.

Unlike me, she had put a bit more forethought into her dress and had sheaved her long, sexy legs into silken-looking stockings. Which went marvellously with the black kitten heels she was wearing.

It wasn’t until I was only a few metres from her that she noticed my approach. When she finally raised her head and saw me closing in, her face bloomed into an ecstatic smile. “Hey there beautiful, come here often?” she delivered the line in a corny drawl and dropped nimbly from her perch. “Can’t say I do,” I answered blithely and stepped close to her, then said at a lower volume, “but I’m glad I did today.”

As I looked at her beatific smile, and the smattering of cute freckles, an intense longing took hold of me. I wanted to kiss each and every single one of those freckles. I wanted to hold her face and caress those incredibly soft-looking cheeks. I wanted to wind that braid around my arm until I palmed the back of her head, guiding her into a searing kiss.

“I want to kiss your freckles,” I blurted out, jolting back when my brain caught up to my mouth.

Lisa’s grin grew mischievous. “Then why don’t you?”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to,” I admitted, shrinking in on myself. There were rules, right? Cues that one had to look out for? I felt unsure in my inexperience, certain that I had missed something that others learned during all these teen hangouts I wasn’t invited to. How could I compare to someone who had already had multiple partners at my age?

Lisa stepped into my space and wrapped her warm hands around my back in a loose hug. However, she wasn’t done with just that gesture, instead, she leaned her chin on my shoulder and spoke directly into my ear. “I put on my big girl panties this morning. So… why don’t you just do the things you want and trust me to tell you how I feel about them?”

“I don’t think that’s how that phrase goes,” I said, trying to insert some levity. Because if I didn’t, I was going to combust. However beautiful this dress was, it was certainly a lot thinner than my usual clothes, and I felt like I could sense every last one of her curves.

She reared back a bit, just enough that she could look into my eyes. Raising one eyebrow, she asked, “Is that really important right now?”

I returned her gaze for a long moment, thinking about the conundrum, then shook my head and decided to be brave. Slowly, giving her time to stop me if she wanted, I tilted my head forward and bestowed a butterfly kiss on her nose. As I did so, I could just about make out the crinkling of her cheeks, indicating the smile that had sprouted on her lips. Since she didn’t complain, I went further and peppered the bridge of her nose with light kisses until Lisa started giggling under my ministrations.

“What?” I asked, giving her some space.

“It tickles,” she said with a joyful smile, “but I like it.” She closed the distance I created and kissed me on my lips. I sunk into her embrace, my eyes fluttering shut. The movement of her soft lips against mine was just as wonderful as I remembered and the faint taste of her left me wanting for more. I moaned into her lips, which gave rise to another bout of giggles. Kissing someone in the midst of a giggle fit was a curious experience. The skilled movements of her lips against mine devolved into something wild and ungainly. Not that I minded it though; then in a way, it felt more real than any kiss before. Like we were finally on the same level. A silly thought, but one I couldn’t entirely shake off.

After a while, Lisa tried to disengage from me, but I wouldn’t let her. Instead, I pulled her lower lip between mine, and gave them a playful bite, as much a warning as a caress.

She didn’t seem very impressed by it but still obeyed the silent command. At least for a little while longer. When she tried to separate for the second time, I let her go, albeit reluctantly. Licking my slightly swollen lips, I had the feeling that I would never be entirely satisfied with letting go, no matter how long we made out. All things considered, that wasn’t exactly the heaviest burden to bear.

I leaned into the hand that caressed my cheek. “I wanted to say,” Lisa started, “that your dress is beautiful and you look stunning in it.” Warmth swelled outwards from my heart and all thoughts of the morning cold were left by the wayside. Lisa liked my mother’s dress! And even more surprising, she liked how it looked on me! I felt giddy and immediately dived in for another long, sensual kiss.

As we parted once more, I barely remembered to return the compliment. “You look incredible too,” I said, “far better than I ever could.”

“Thank you,” Lisa beamed at me, “but you don’t have to put yourself down to pay me a compliment.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, it wasn’t like I had chosen those words intentionally. They were just the first thing that came to mind. Instead of mentioning as much, I directed the conversation to something else. “So, what movie do you want to watch?” I was truly curious about her tastes because I could see them go either way. She looked more than pretty enough to belong to the popular crowd, the ones who would watch romantic movies with their boyfriends. But, at the same time, I could see her dressed in an oversized T-shirt binge-watching Star Wars.

“There is that movie about a tinker that slowly turns himself into a machine, and discovers his humanity on this journey, which I wanted to watch for a while. But we can do something else if you have a movie you’d rather watch,” Lisa answered. She looked at her watch, then frowned. “But we are like forty minutes early for that. I guess both of us were afraid of missing the date,” she added the last part with a wink that made me blush.

“I guess so,” I admitted, then proceeded to scratch the back of my head. What could we do in the meantime? Glancing around the plaza, I caught sight of a small, familiar bakery. Unless something had changed in the years since they also offered a breakfast spread and coffee in the mornings. Kissing Lisa had somewhat settled my nerves. While I still worried about messing up, the enthusiasm she had shown towards me, gave me some solid ground to stand on. As a result, my stomach reminded me that I skipped most of my breakfast and was just a step from threatening me with loud, awkward noises.

“Uhm, do you maybe want to get breakfast?” I asked, pointing over at the small café.

“Oh, yeah, I’m starving!” Lisa agreed instantly. Hooking my arm in hers, she guided me towards the indicated shop. “I completely forgot to buy food yesterday after school. The only thing I had left was a bit of hard bread, cheese and coffee,” Lisa explained. However, I missed most of her words as I was too absorbed by the feeling of her arm wrapped around mine. She had taken hold of me in the exact same way my mother had usually done with my father. Our arms were not only interlinked, but she also had wrapped her fingers around my limb.

It felt great. Far better than just walking arm in arm had any right to feel like.

All too soon it was over, and Lisa disentangled herself from me, sliding into the corner booth furthest from the entrance and counter. Looking up at me, she patted the space next to her. I followed her invitation and joined her in the corner seat, this put me perpendicular to her and made our knees touch. It felt cosy, sitting like this, secluded away from the rest of the mall. Feeling brave, I put my hand on her stocking-clad knee. The fabric felt exactly as smooth as I had imagined it would. My action was rewarded by a sweet smile that made me lean in for a quick peck on her full lips.

“You can get whatever you want, my treat,” Lisa said in passing while handing me a menu.

“You don’t have to pay for me!” Dad had handed me an extra twenty when he had dropped me off. Between that and the money I had taken from my savings, I had plenty of cash on me. If it weren’t for those other purchases I wanted to make, I would be the one offering to pay for Lisa’s food.

At my refusal, Lisa pinned me with an intense look, biting her lip. After a moment, she seemed to have come to a decision.

“Okay,” she started, suddenly sounding serious, “full disclosure. I’m a parahuman and I know you are one too.” My eyes went wide at hearing that and I quickly looked around us, making sure that no one had heard her. No one seemed close enough, the few other guests were all busy at the sales counter. Between the noises of the coffee machine and the quiet music playing through hidden speakers, I didn’t think that anyone could have heard. At least not any normal human.

“I’m not a parahuman,” I tried to lie. I doubted my words were very convincing, after my initial reaction. Lisa confirmed that the next moment. “You’re a terrible liar,” she said with a cheeky smirk, “that wouldn’t even have convinced me if you hadn’t hit my power with some mind whammy yesterday.”

She sounded so sure of herself and met my hard gaze head-on. I had the sense that there was no way that I could convince her otherwise. And, to be honest, I didn’t really want to. Even though I had known Lisa for just a few days, and this was already the most we had spoken so far, I felt like I could trust her. Maybe it was the genuine happiness she showed me, or her honest and direct way of speaking with me that was so different than how the Trio had interacted with me. Whatever it was, the result was the same: I wanted to be truthful with Lisa. Also, I really, really wanted someone to know what I could do.

“I don’t think this is the best place to talk about that.”

“Oh, no, this is perfectly safe,” Lisa said, dissolving my voiced concerns with a casual wave of her hand. “My power is super intuition. I’m basically Sherlock times a thousand. If someone were listening in, I’d know.” She spoke her words so confidently that I couldn’t do anything but believe her. Slowly, the tension left my back and I melted back into my seat. The vacancy was soon filled by a different concern. Why was she so open about this? My eyes narrowed into slits. Was this all some elaborate recruitment pitch for a gang?

Lisa shook her head emphatically, “No, no gang. I’m not really in the game.”

I tilted my head, how did she know what I was going to ask?

“Super intuition,” she added, tapping the side of her head, “and as for why I’m so open with you. I’ve got a good feeling about you.” She held my eyes prisoner for a long minute, then picked up the menu she had dropped on the table. “But we can discuss the nitty-gritty details over a salmon bagel. For now, all you have to know is that I can guess the contents of your wallet down to the last cent. So believe me when I tell you, that I’ll miss the handful of dollars far less than you would.”

Deciding to cut my losses, I picked up the menu and started going through it. “Okay.” I flipped around the menu, looking for the cheapest item I could find.

“And if you order the cheapest food, instead of the dish you actually want, then I’m just going to order one of everything,” Lisa stated, without looking up from the menu in her hands.

I goggled at her. Okay, this would take some getting used to.

“But you can, right?” Her voice sounded oddly vulnerable. I glanced up, meeting her eyes. Somehow, she appeared incredibly young at this moment. With a start, I realised that this was the first time that I had seen her without the co*cky confidence she usually oozed from every pore. Soft feelings welled up from deep inside of me, at this unexpected glance under the mask. I basked in the feeling for a moment, then remembered that she had asked me something.

“What?”

“You can get used to it?” she repeated her question.

I barely stopped myself from blurting out a yes. A spur-of-the-moment answer wouldn’t be fair in the face of her honesty. Instead, I took a moment to think. Hadn’t I loved Emma so much, because she had understood me? At the same time, that had also been the reason she could hurt me so terribly when she turned evil. At the same time, the lack of understanding was what kept Dad and me at an arm’s distance. I glanced at Lisa, who was watching me nervously. In the end, didn’t we all just want to be heard and understood? Lisa would know me on a level like no one else did, maybe not even me. I could live with that, as long as it didn’t get lopsided.

“My Mom always said that communication is key in relationships,” I started, haltingly, “so, yes, I think I can.” I held up a finger to stop her from interjecting anything, “but, I need you to reciprocate. If you will know how I feel and what I’m thinking, then so do you need to open up in turn.” This time it was me that forced our eye contact to last. “This won’t work if you only tell me the things you think I want to hear.”

She nodded slowly in response to my words, exhaling in relief.

“Total honesty with a side-dish of TMI, got it.”

“Exactly.”

A surprisingly comfortable silence fell over us for a moment, only to be interrupted by the appearance of the barista.

“What can I get you, girls?” the young woman asked, still somewhat distractedly looking towards a table by the entrance. Following her gaze, I saw a bunch of college-aged guys chatting over cups of coffee. I turned back just in time to catch Lisa rolling her eyes at the barista.

“Salmon bagel and green tea, please. And the scrambled eggs with a side of bacon and a black tea for the beautiful lady,” Lisa ordered for us, winking at my scowl. That was exactly what I had intended to get.

“Okay, I’ll bring it over in a few minutes.”

Lisa waited until the barista had left us before she spoke again, “On the matter of TMI and absolute disclosure. The reason I was so early this morning was because I couldn’t sleep. I was busy flicking the bean to you like crazy ever since that moment we had during P.E. But every time I was about to org*sm, some redheaded hottie appeared in my vision and denied me. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

I blinked owlishly at her. Had I heard that correctly? Did she just admit to playing with herself while thinking about me?

“Ehm…” I let out an ungainly giggle.

“Maybe?” I hazarded. It sounded similar to what I had experienced a few days before. “Something like that happened to me recently.”

“So… it wasn’t you?” Lisa said, deep in thought. “That’s unexpected.” She perked up, grinning at me. “And here I thought you wanted me all hot and bothered for our date!”

Shock surged through me, “I’d never!” I protested.

Lisa threw up her hands, “sorry! I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. It was just a bad joke. I know you wouldn’t manipulate me like that. Otherwise, I’d never meet you here.” The apology didn’t entirely mollify me, but I decided to drop it for a different line of conversation. “So you don’t know who that is either?”

Lisa shook her head no. “I don’t think my power even saw her. At least it did not comment on it. Although, my power has been a bit wonky ever since I first saw you at school.”

Sometimes powers interacted strangely with each other, that much I knew. The most recent case of this was that new villain, Grue, and Shadow Stalker. Their power-born feud was plastered all over the PHO. Apparently, the villain’s smoke somehow interfered with Shadow Stalker’s breaker form. It was rumoured that this was also the reason why she hadn’t been seen as often anymore. According to some people in the know she had gone overboard and been relegated to desk duty as a result.

So it wasn’t that unlikely that her super intuition would interact with my… I blinked. Goose flesh formed all over my back and arms as I made a sudden realisation. Super intuition… And the first time we met, I had one of those intrusive fantasies of mine.

Lisa’s smile turned into a sh*t-eating grin. “Yup,” she said, playfully popping the ‘p’, “Those theatre plays where they include the audience had nothing on your show.”

I dropped my burning face into my hands and groaned. Oh god, I was never going to live this down. Why couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow me whole? Life owed me at least that much by now. But sadly, the world remained as cold and unjust as ever. Why did she even agree to go out with me if she already knew what a freak I was? Morbid curiosity?

“Oh, that’s an easy one,” she said, checking off fingers one by one, “You’re cute, sexy as hell, smart, kind, loyal… and I’m also a freak that enjoyed what you did to me in those fantasies quite a lot.” She spoke that last part with a slow, sultry lilt that did indecent things to me.

“You’re killing me,” I mumbled through my hands. By that point, my blush had spread from my face down to my chest. As I was wallowing in my despair, a curious thought popped into my head. I couldn’t hide anything from Lisa. Any attempt at subterfuge would probably just be like catnip for her power. So… Why not just own up to it? Could I do that? Turn my freakishness into a sword and shield? Keeping my head down and trying to fit in hadn’t done me any favours; it hadn’t stopped the Trio from bullying me, nor had it enticed others to help me.

So why not try something new? New power, new me?

I peeked through my fingers at Lisa, who was still chuckling to herself. And I knew just where to start.

Without any warning, I reached over and grabbed Lisa by her braid. In the same motion, I wound the braid around my wrist until I was palming the back of her head, just like I had imagined earlier. Then, I pulled her close until our noses almost touched. “Careful,” I said, “a girl might get the idea that you are into her, talking like that.”

“Oh,” Lisa said, affecting a snobby tone of voice, “and what would a girl do in that case?”

‘This’, I thought and pulled her in for a deep and heated kiss.

The kiss only stopped when someone was clearing their throat next to us. Still holding onto Lisa’s hair, I turned my head and scowled at whoever dared to interrupt us. As it turned out, it was just the barista bringing our food. She put the tray on our table and distributed the dishes. “You should be a bit more discreet,” the young woman said, “I don’t mind, but sometimes the E88 comes around for a pastry. You don’t want to get into their crosshair.”

Snorting, Lisa spoke up, “Don’t worry… I have the distinct feeling that Brockton Bay will soon get a lot more LGBT+ friendly.”

“If you say so,” the barista shrugged her shoulders, “I won’t hold my breath. Are you splitting or paying all together?”

“I’ll pay everything,” Lisa said, waving a credit card at the woman.

Once we had paid up, I pulled Lisa in for a quick peck, and then let go of her. “Let’s eat,” I said, ignoring the disappointed huff coming from next to me. That was kind of rude, not Lisa’s reaction, that I could understand, but the barista’s interjection. At the same time, I couldn’t really begrudge her for it. Brockton Bay didn’t lack for hate crimes, and plenty of bystanders got caught up in it. If this place developed a reputation for being LGBT-friendly, I wouldn’t be surprised if some E88 goon would throw a flagstone through the window.

I shook my head, Lisa was right, this had to change. I guess the nazis just won the first spot on Brockton Bay’s newest hero’s to-do list. Pushing the thought out of my mind, I turned to a more appetising matter: my scrambled eggs.

The food was quite tasty, and for a while, neither of us spoke. Only when we had taken off the worst of the hunger’s edge did Lisa pipe up again, “By the way, what’s your power? I’m guessing something mastery with a minor brute rating?”

“You don’t know?” I asked surprised, “I’d have thought that your power could tell you that.”

“Nah,” Lisa said, waving her knife around, “if I try to dig into something with little information beforehand, I just get wild conjecture. I would have to see you use your power on someone else to build a real opinion.”

“Oh, I see…” So she didn’t know everything, just a lot. Didn’t really change anything for me, though. By now, she probably had more than enough impressions of me to create a pretty clear picture. “I’m no master, as far as I know. I’m a trump with a minor tinker rating? Maybe?” I shrugged my shoulders, “Not sure there, but I can paint with supernatural precision and I have an innate sense for materials. But the core of my power is this weird powder I can create. With it, I can create these runes that do things. Like, for example, I tattooed a rune-word on my arm the day before we kissed. It gave me this body here.” I tapped a pair of fingers against my chest.

“Holy sh*t!” Lisa exclaimed loud enough to turn heads. Quieter, she added, “You can give people powerups?! And you can enchant items? That’s crazy.”

Enchant, huh, yeah that fit pretty well. Although, ‘engrave’ was maybe more accurate since my work didn’t involve any silly chants. At least not as far as I knew. I went into some fugue-like state when I crafted the rune-words, so maybe I was mumbling some incantation and just hadn’t noticed it? I doubted it. I was never that far gone.

Returning to the conversation, I nodded, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Uhm… can I get one?” She threw her hands up, “you can totally say no! I don’t want to take advantage of my girlfriend!”

“Girlfriend?” I asked, sounding giddy to my own ears.

“That’s your takeaway from that?” Lisa asked, giggling, “Yes, Taylor, I’d like to be your girlfriend, if you’ll have me.”

“Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” I squealed out. Way to play it cool Taylor. Although, wasn’t that exactly the thing I had thought about earlier? “And, uhm, that’s also the answer for the powerup. Though, are you sure? I’m not sure I have it fully figured out yet. You might be permanently changed…”

“Great,” Lisa said, leaning over for a slow, sensual kiss. Our lips danced against each other for a long few seconds, and I was once more marvelling at how soft and nice hers were. Towards the end, her tongue darted between my lips, the unknown sensation sending a thrill directly to my nether region. Feeling brazen, I applied a bit of suction to her questing tongue, earning a low moan for my efforts.

A few seconds later, she returned to her seat with a satisfied smirk on her slightly swollen lips.

“Phish,” she said, waving my earlier worry away. “I’m sure it will work out fine.”

I looked at her for a heartbeat or two, hoping that she was right.

Chapter 12: Long time no see

Chapter Text

We continued our breakfast at a leisurely pace, all the while talking about recent events at Arcadia High and a few of the more notable happenings around Brockton Bay. As if by an invisible cue, we had decided to leave off the heavier stuff for the moment. Still, the conversation flowed smoothly, and we frequently laughed at the stories Lisa recounted. In fact, we almost missed the start of the movie we wanted to watch.

Hauling ass, we made it over to the cinema just in time.

“Two tickets please,” Lisa said, already slipping the teller her credit card, heading off any argument from my side. This was getting a bit ridiculous, and I resolved to at least pay for our snacks. Tapping Lisa on her shoulder, I pointed over at the snack bar and asked, “What do you want? My treat.” I stuck out my tongue at her. Not very grown up of me, but well, Lisa deserved it for walking around and flashing her credit card every which way. Heberts didn’t do handouts.

Lisa grinned, making grabby motions towards my tongue, which convinced me to reel it back in. I had the distinct feeling that Lisa wasn’t above grabbing hold of it. Aaand that would be really awkward, especially in front of the adolescent behind the counter.

“A big bucket of popcorn,” Lisa said, pouting at my vanishing tongue like a child whose favourite toy got taken away, “it’s too early for sweets.”

“Okay,” I hurried over to the food stand and bought a heaping of horrendously overpriced popcorn. I added a large bottle of some fruity water on top—which was basically juice with a few drops of water—and then followed Lisa up the stairs to the showing room. “Here,” I said, offering Lisa a pair of plastic cups to hold. Between the overflowing bucket and the two-litre bottle, carrying all this stuff got awkward really fast. But all I got for my efforts was a raise of a neatly plucked eyebrow. “Taylor, sweetie, we have already exchanged so much spit, drinking out of a shared bottle won’t make a difference anymore…”

“I’m not going to risk staining my dress with juice,” I answered snippily. Trying to drink out of one of these oversized bottles was a disaster in the waiting. A smirk pulled at Lisa’s lips, heralding something that I was sure I wouldn’t like. I was proven right seconds later.

“Yeah, that comes later,” she sent a wink my way.

“Iiiep,” I squealed in shock, almost dropping our snacks. Lisa had just grabbed my ass and squeezed!

“You can’t just do that!”

“Why?” Lisa deadpanned.

“Uhm…” Good question. I didn’t not like it. Her warm hand on my ass sent nice tingles dancing up and down my body. Furthermore, it wasn’t like she had protested my earlier move with her braid. I couldn’t begrudge her for being a bit grabby in return. “Because there could be children around!”

My answer came in the form of a peal of laughter.

With her hand still on my ass, she steered me down the stairs and to one specific row of seats. Only then did she relent and let go of my buttock. I was not too proud to admit to myself that I missed it immediately, though I wasn’t going to voice that. The devilish smirk growing on Lisa’s face told me that my restraint had been completely futile. “I kind of liked that,” I whispered, reminded of my earlier decision to use these things as my cudgel.

“Me too,” Lisa answered cheekily and finally helped me with my burden. Carrying the drink, she let me all the way to the middle of the row and finally sat down. I put the bucket of salty goodness on the shared armrest and leaned back into the comfy seat.

“Wow,” I exclaimed, “these seats are perfect.” They were in that perfect zone where you neither had to look up or down to see the picture. Now we only had to hope that no one tall sat down before us. However, the risk of that happening was rather slim. There were only a few others scattered throughout the seats and the pre-rolls were already playing.

Lisa just tapped the side of her head, a gesture that was swiftly becoming our signal for her power.

“Isn’t that a bit wasteful,” I wondered quietly, “using it like that?”

“Nah,” she waved my concern off, “it’s on all the time, I’d have to focus not to use it.”

Silence fell over us after that exchange, as the pre-rolls had just finished up and the logo of the producer was now shown. I glanced over at Lisa, who was seemingly absorbed by what was happening on the screen. Gathering all my courage, I spoke quietly, “Uhm… Do you want to hold hands?”

“That would be nice,” Lisa responded, offering me her hand. Carefully, I took hold of her delicate fingers, unable to stop the wide smile from splitting my face in two.

“Why were there killer robots?!” I asked, still somewhat unbelieving, as we left the cinema. Lisa tutted at me, “Taylor, isn’t it obvious, they were an expression of his self-destructive behaviour.”

“What?” I looked at Lisa askew. Had she actually enjoyed that?! “And what about that moment when they all started singing Christmas carols in the middle of the battle for some reason? Have you got an explanation for that?”

“Phish,” Lisa said, waving my critique of the movie away with a casual gesture, “that clearly signified the death of innocence. The dichotomy between violent death and the celebration of life painted a stark picture that only a master cinematographer could create. You’re just too much of a philistine to understand the beautiful underpinnings of that masterwork.”

Sudden suspicion made me squint at her. Her carefree expression seemed a bit strained around the edges. A giggle slipped past her lips.

“You’re bullsh*tting me,” I said, scowling at my girlfriend. My dark expression burst the damn and she dissolved into peals of laughter. I tried to resist its pull for a long moment but then gave in and joined her in her expression of mirth.

“Y-you… should have seen your face,” Lisa forced out, between spurts of laughter, “but yeah, that movie was total trash. The only thing that kept me there, was your lovely company.”

I pulled on her hand, forcing her to face me. “You mean to tell me that we could have left midway through?!” I poked my other finger at her chest. “Full communication includes important details like that!”

“But then I would have missed all those pained expressions you made whenever they misquoted one of the classics,” Lisa said through an impish smirk. That gained her a dark look, “you are lucky that you are so cute, otherwise I’d have to punish you for your cheek.”

“Oh…” Lisa made a silly face, crossing her eyes and letting her tongue droop out of her mouth. “What about now?” Her words were barely intelligible through the pronounced lisp she put on.

“Oh, you cheeky, little minx!” I exclaimed, rounding on her. Grabbing her by the upper arms, I pushed her against the front wall of the cinema and stepped into her personal space, my face inches from hers. However, Lisa seemed rather unfazed by my aggression. She just wiggled her eyebrows and asked, “What now?”

Had no one told that girl that you didn’t ask someone with a knife what he was going to do to you with it?! That’s a good way to get stabbed in Brockton Bay. I shook my head and decided to teach her this important survival lesson. I owed that much effort to my girlfriend. Without answering her query, I let go of one of her arms, and pressed my forearm against her upper chest, pinning her in place. She tried to wiggle free but her efforts did little in the face of my power-enhanced strength.

Sure that she couldn’t escape my grasp, I let go of the other arm and sneaked it under her shirt. Bad girls were usually punished with a spanking, but our positions made that pretty much impossible. So I went for something a bit different. Lisa’s eyes grew wide as my questing fingers found the lower rim of her bra and wiggled below it. Suddenly, I realised that there was a grave oversight in my devious plan.

Oh god, how was skin allowed to be this smooth, and so soft? I froze for a long few seconds as I got my first feel of another girl’s underboob. My heart, meanwhile, was thrashing away in my chest, making me feel slightly faint. My mouth dried out and made swallowing painful. Come on, Taylor, get it together! It’s just a boob, you got one too, two even! With titanic effort, I managed to worm deeper into the warm and soft depths of her bra, displacing it a bit as I went. Finally, I felt the change in skin that heralded my target. I whispered a nail along it to the centre of her areola, the skin puckering under my gentle ministrations.

Then, I bumped against her hardened nipple. Grabbing hold of it with thumb and finger, I dipped my mouth down to her ear and whispered breathily in her ear, “This.” Without further ado, I tightened my hold on her lovely nipple and twisted just far enough to be painful. This was a punishment, after all. However, even knowing that I wasn’t ready for her reaction. She reared up against me, testing my strength once more, and let out a long, outdrawn and very obviously lustful moan.

I reared back and goggled at her in a mixture of shock, awe and mortification. Lisa’s face was turned towards the ceiling with her eyes closed and her mouth forming a big, round ‘O’.

“Hey! What are you girls doing there?” asked a male voice from somewhere to our side. My heart stopped for a moment, as I realised what this must look like, my hand vanishing somewhere between us and my girlfriend in the throes of ecstasy. Unthinking, I ripped my arm from under her shirt, grabbed Lisa by her hand and stormed away, dragging her after me. Over her shocked yelp, I shouted, “Sorry!” in the direction of the guy and dashed off with her in tow.

In my panic I didn’t pay attention to where I was going, and after just a few turns we stormed into a dead end at a headlong run. I couldn’t stop in time and slammed into the wall, slumping down into a heap together with Lisa. “You’ll have to work on your panic response,” Lisa said with a giggle in her voice from above me. Somehow, she found my face and gave me a long and deep kiss. “First date and we are already running from the law,” she said, once she had her fill of my lips, “your middle name isn’t Bonnie perchance?”

I let out a snort at her jest and tried to crawl from under her, “Future heroes don’t run from the law!” I said, “They smoothly and justly avoid unnecessary delays in their hero work because of administrative delays due to them having to explain themselves to mall cops.”

“Oh that’s completely different, of course,” Lisa answered, rolling off of me and getting to her feet. Offering me a hand, she pulled me up and into her arms.

“And don’t you forget it,” I pecked her on the nose, “I won’t have such slander coming from my girlfriend!” Letting go of her, I stepped from her embrace and straightened my dress. Luckily, the mall was pretty clean and I hadn’t gotten any dirt on it from our tumble.

“By the way, Taylor,” Lisa started while copying my actions. She looked up, pinning me in place with her verdant, green eyes. “That was absolutely perfect!” Her words made a happy smile bloom on my face, my gamble had worked out. “Though I could do without you tearing my bra.” She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a lacy bit of purple fabric. As she let it dangle from her fingers, I recognised it as a racy, strapless bra that you would only find in the lingerie department of the mall.

“Uhm, sorry,” I said, feeling properly bad for destroying such a nice bra, “I don’t fully know my strength yet? I can pay for it?” It would probably put a good-sized dent into my savings, but I took responsibility for my actions.”

“Bah,” Lisa exclaimed, throwing the ruined bra into a nearby bin, “there will be other ones. Just don’t make a habit of it.” She tilted her head and tapped her chin in thought. “Ooor, give me a hint that you are in a clothes-ripping mood and I’ll put on a cheap one.” She added a wink for good measure, “There is something visceral about getting your clothes torn off by an ardent lover.” A blush formed on my face, as a vision of me tearing Lisa’s dress shirt open, sending buttons everywhere, overtook me.

“I like the way you think,” Lisa said, grinning at me, “but you’ll have to get a shirt for me if you want to do that here. I don’t mind a bit of public fondling, but flashing my bare tit* to everyone here is a bit much.”

“You are going to be the death of me,” I groaned, rubbing my dark-red face.

“But what a death it will be,” Lisa said wistfully.

She offered me her hand to hold, “So… how about lunch?”

We went over to the food court and I reserved a table for us, while Lisa was getting us something to eat. I hadn’t even tried to protest her paying for everything, knowing that anything I’d say would just fall on deaf ears. Therefore, I was left alone sitting on my chair, watching my beautiful girlfriend traipse from stall to stall. I couldn’t avert my eyes from her. Somehow, knowing that she wore no bra under her schoolgirl get-up made every one of her moves and gestures even sexier than usual.

So, the words coming from behind me caught me completely off guard.

“Is that you, Taytay?” Gods no, why did she have to be here? Ignoring her just spurned her on in her efforts to get a rise out of me, so I scootched around in my seat until I could meet her gaze.

“Emma,” I said, face carefully blank, “what do you want?”

“Just catching up,” Emma said, casually leaning on the chair opposite of mine. “We were all so worried when you stopped showing up at Winslow. Even some cops showed up, asking everyone questions. We thought something awful happened to you.” She shrugged, “but then I see you sitting here, right as rain.” Her eyes flickered down my toned arms. “I see you finally stopped pretending to be a woman, how good for you. But between the two of us, you should really lay off the juice for a bit. It’s not good for your heart.”

The sound of her falsetto as she spat out her mock concern set my teeth on edge.

“Excuse me,” Lisa said, “you are blocking my chair.” She had appeared behind Emma, carrying a tray chockful of food. Her pretty face was marred by a stormy expression that was both worrying and arousing.

If Emma was surprised by Lisa’s appearance, she didn’t show it. Languidly, she rose from where she had leaned on the back support of the chair and turned around. Her eyes roved up and down Lisa’s form and her expression finally resolved into a friendly smile. I wasn’t surprised that Lisa passed Emma’s popular girl check.

“And who might you be?” Emma asked breezily, seemingly unaware of the dark expression Lisa was sporting.

“Lisa,” she grunted out, setting the tray on the table, “Taylor’s girlfriend.”

Emma’s eyes moved between us, surprise showing on her face for the first time today. “As in…” she let the word trail off for a moment, “Oh, Lisa, you can do so much better than the skan* of Winslow High. I hope you haven’t had sex with her, otherwise, you’d better get an STD check.” That tired old line? Emma needed some new material and hopefully, something that didn’t conflict with her earlier claims. Because the last time she had slandered my love life, she had claimed that no one would even touch me even if they were offered money for it. Keep your story straight. I sighed internally, not that the inconsistencies ever made a difference with the rest of the school.

Lisa’s head snapped around and she glared at Emma with barely restrained fury in her eyes, “I give you one chance to leave before I utterly destroy you: f*ck off.”

Emma sneered down at Lisa, her eyes catching on something that turned the expression into a foul grin.

“Oh, sorry, I mistook you for someone with class, but those little pokies tell me that you are just another cheap whor*,” Emma crooned, pointing at Lisa’s shirt, “there are children here! Do you have no shame?” She added with a mock gasp. I followed her outstretched finger to Lisa’s chest, where her shirt was tented by her stiff nipples. I blinked. Oh god… I experienced a sudden, intense urge to spill water all over her shirt. The only thing that kept me from following that train of thought all the way to horny station was the tinsy, tiny fact that Emma had just insulted my girlfriend. I was used to her hateful words by now, and they had barely any impact anymore. But Emma wasn’t going to ruin this day for us, wasn’t going to insult my beautiful, kind, caring and smart girlfriend, just because of her relationship with me.

Abruptly, I stood up, toppling my chair. The sound it made when it hit the floor made Emma jump.

“You hateful, f*cking c*nt!” I yelled at her, closing in on her, one angry step after another, “I’ve had it with you. I don’t know what happened to turn you from my best friend into this twisted caricature of a human being. But, you know what? I don’t care anymore!” I followed her as she tried to slowly back off, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear, shock… and was that awe? I guess I still wasn’t that good at reading emotions.

“You are nothing to me anymore. If you were on fire, I wouldn’t piss on your burning corpse. So take the hint and make like a tree. Leave!”

She just stared at me, rendered mute by my tirade. I kept our eyes locked, hoping to instil her with a sense of how serious I was.

“What’s going on here?” an authoritative voice asked, I glanced around, spotting a balding guy wearing the typical mall cop uniform. Luckily, it wasn’t the same guy as before. That probably wouldn’t have ended well.

“That girl saw me kiss my girlfriend,” Lisa explained with an angelic expression on her face, “then she just came over and started calling us whor* and skan*. We just want to eat our lunch in peace, officer. The mall cop’s expression darkened. “Is that so?” he asked no one in particular.

“Yes,” Lisa said with a tone of voice that made you think that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “We are on a date—Lisa flashed our cinema tickets—and just wanted to eat something here after catching a movie. We didn’t mean to make any trouble for you, sir.”

He nodded and gave Lisa a fatherly smile, “My apologies then, for not catching this troublemaker earlier.” He grabbed the still-frozen Emma by her shoulder. “You are coming with me, missy.” That woke her from her stupor and she started to fight him, but Emma had always been more of a model than a sports star, and the officer bodied her easily in the direction of his office.

That left me standing there, next to my fallen chair, with all the wind taken out of my sails.

“Huh?”

“Damn,” Lisa said in her usual tone, “now I’m going to be on high beams for the next hour…”

Righting the chair, I sat down and shot Lisa a weak smile, “Sorry about that.”

“The only one that has reason to be sorry is that bitch.” Lisa said with conviction, “And don’t worry, she’s getting her just dessert.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, glancing in the direction the mall security had dragged her off.

“Oh, you know the sort,” Lisa said casually while handing me one of the dishes she had bought, “former football star, married his high school sweetheart, divorced two years later. Peaked in school and on a downward trend ever since. Give them a bit of power and they turn into these wannabe kings ruling over their little fiefdoms. All you have to do is some brown-nosing and they eat out of your palm.”

She handed me a bottle of water, which I immediately broke open. I was parched.

“That bully doesn’t have a deferential bone in her body. If I was a betting woman, I’d say that mall cop is currently busting her chops and she is insisting that he call her lawyer father.”

“Huh,” I took the offered fries with a grateful smile, and popped one of them into my mouth, “how did you know that Alan is a lawyer?”

She tapped the side of her head, “wild guess?”

“But anyway,” Lisa said after taking a bite of her taco, “let’s stop talking about her. I’d rather talk about you.”

“Uhm… What about me?”

“What do you like to do? Besides perving on your hot girlfriend while you think she isn’t looking.”

Warmth pooled on my face, giving rise to another of those devilish smirks I quickly grew addicted to. I had done my best not to stare at the twin peaks under her shirt, but I had slipped up every now and then. They were just so… so there.

“Not that I mind,” Lisa said, her amusem*nt bleeding into her voice, “but your fantasies featuring them are rather distracting.” Her smirk morphed into an evil grin that heralded nothing good. “I don’t think we can go and try on dessous after this. I’m a bit of a mess.” She wiggled her eyebrows, “down there.”

A breathy groan escaped my throat, a truly awkward noise. Did this girl have no filter at all?! Don’t think of her wet puss* and what it looks like, or how it tastes or if it is as smooth and soft as her beautiful tit* with those incredible nips.

“f*ck!” I blurted out as the heat from my face migrated downstairs.

“You can stop me anytime, just tell me something about yourself.”

I threw my hands above my head, “Okay, okay, you win. I love to read, and I’m really into the capeing scene. Also, I’m thinking about taking up metalworking and maybe sewing leather clothes?” Was that the correct word? Or should I have used leatherworking? Eh, Lisa would get it anyway.

My blurted-out list of hobbies and likes started a lively discussion between us. As it turned out, we had plenty in common. Lisa knew a surprising amount of the English classics, apparently, they helped her understand the ‘human condition’ better, and she was maybe even a bigger fan than I of the various capes around. Although, that wasn’t really surprising considering the power she had. But when I asked her if she knew who any of the capes were under their masks, she shot me down quickly and explained the unwritten rules to me. Suddenly, all the oddities in the cape scene made much more sense.

I had always wondered why so many of the villains seemed to be caught on the regular, only for them to break out of their prison after a few weeks. Knowing that everything was basically a big game of cops and robbers was a bit of a downer, but at the same time, it lowered the risk quite a bit for the heroes and villains. The battles weren’t life-or-death affairs and everyone was better off in the long run. Everyone except for the normal citizens that is. They seemed to get the short end of the stick.

By the time we polished off the last of our spread, it was early afternoon and both of us were happy to do anything besides sitting. It seemed like the perfect time to take care of the other task I had set myself for the day.

“Lisa, would you mind visiting some shops with me? I wanted to buy a pair of cheap leather pants for myself.”

Hearing my request, Lisa’s head snapped up fast enough to make me worry that she had given herself whiplash, and then she proceeded to choke on the sip of water she had just swallowed. “Yesh, yesh,” she said, snorting some water onto the table, “leather pants for you. Great, cool, let’s go.”

I squinted at her, suddenly feeling ill at ease.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Lisa said, grabbed a paper towel and calmly dabbed her dripping chin. “Water went down the wrong pipe.” Dropping the wet towel on the bussing tray, she started gathering up the empty plates. “I know the perfect shop, they are located a road over, so not a direct part of the mall. But they are your best bet to find something affordable.”

“Sounds good,” I said and helped her with the refuse. “I’m a bit out of my depths here, so I’m glad for any help.”

We returned the tray to the designated area and then stepped out of the mall, our hands intertwined. As she had told me, we had to walk a short distance. But the streets had warmed up in the meanwhile, and the walk over to the little shop Lisa knew was quite nice. I’d have to see if Lisa wanted to go for a quick stroll afterwards. I guess it depended on where she lived, I didn’t want to complicate her trip home.

“This is it,” Lisa said, pointing at an unassuming door next to a large window. The only hint that this wasn’t just the home of some guy was the little ‘W’ symbol above the door. The window, which might have served as a display window at another time, was completely shrouded with black fabric.

“Are you sure?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in doubt. This didn’t really look like a clothes shop. In fact, I’d have guessed that it was some dubious back alley casino or maybe a skeevy sex shop.

“Yup,” Lisa said, smiling encouragingly at me, “this place is completely legit and the owner is rather nice, compared to the other shopkeepers around here.” She hesitated visibly for a moment, then added, “She’s just a bit eccentric, but since it’s Saturday, her daughter should be manning the till.”

I bit my lip in thought. Lisa hadn’t steered me wrong so far… So I gave myself a push and stepped up to the door.

“If this is some kind of practical joke, you are so going to get it!” I threatened and stepped into the dimly lit interior.