by Baron Sord
Somehow, the colors changed to cyan.
“And zoom out?”
The image in her mind pulled back until she saw her hand and the attached silverware, except her cyan hand was like the size of a window, the butterknives bigger than cyan swords. Everything else around her faded to black.
At this magnification, she clearly saw concentric cyan curves emanating from her fingers. Like blue laser circles. The collection of lines was densest at the tips of her fingers, and more sparse around the sides, and everything curving back into her in a continuous loop.
Almost like the magnetic field lines around a bar magnet.
“No way,” she laughed. “You can’t see field lines! Not without iron filings or something. Erm, now I can!” She laughed. “This is crazy!”
She also saw the field lines traveling into the silverware stuck to her fingers, and the silverware in turn making their own field lines.
“Can I pull the field lines back? Let’s try that.”
She inhaled while imagining retracting the field lines and the swirling blue juice vortex from her hands.
Slowly, it retreated.
Clink, clank, cling!
The silverware dropped off her fingers and fell into the sink.
“That’ll work,” she said. “I can’t believe how easy this is!”
Realizing she was naked except for panties, she went to her bedroom and grabbed a clean baby-Tee from the top of her drawer. Pulled it over her head and boobs and looked at herself in the mirror on the wall by the bed.
The graphic on the Tee said BADASS BITCH in block letters, and the letters stretched over her breasts.
Kristy never wore this shirt out of the apartment, but wore it all the time at home. She pulled on yoga pants and danced back into her living room/kitchen area.
Looked at her sewing table.
Sewing machine, scissors, patterns, tape measure, spools of threads, pins.
“Pins! I wonder if I can shoot pins like darts!”
Kristy held her hand over the open box.
She did the orderly field-line thing again in her hand.
With a little concentration, like magic, dozens of pins hopped up from the box and stuck to her hand.
She pointed her palm at the wall.
“Shoot!”
Nothing happened.
Tried harder, pushing more juice down her arm.
Still nothing.
“I guess magnets don’t work that way, do they? They either attract or repel other magnets. Could I shoot magnets from my hands like bullets? Only if I always carry magnets around. Too much hassle. Oh! I know!”
She held her palms apart about 3 feet.
Turned off the juice to her pin hand while cranking the juice in her empty hand.
The pins dropped to the floor.
“Too far apart?”
She magneted the pins to her hand and tried again, this time with her hands about a foot apart.
Instantly, the pins shot across from one hand to the other in a clump.
The sudden sensation surprised her, but the pins didn’t pierce her super-strong skin.
“Hmm. I don’t think this’d work as a pin gun. Not if I have to use my hands on both sides of my target.” An evil grin flickered across her face. “But I could totally shoot pins through someone’s head by holding my hands on each side! Put the pins in between!” She gasped. Frowned. Cringed. Shook her head, “No, I couldn’t do that.”
She put the pins back in their box.
Beedle-beep!
Kristy’s smart phone started ringing on the wood desk next to her Cintiq drawing tablet and laptop. Her girlfriend Sierra’s face popped up on the phone screen.
Kristy grabbed the phone to answer it.
Zap!
A dramatic discharge flickered across the phone. The screen pixelated, spraying a rainbow of colors across itself before blacking out in blocky chunks until it was completely dark.
“Oh no!” Kristy gasped. Quickly dropped the phone on the computer table. “Did I ruin it?!”
She was afraid to touch it again.
Looked at her laptop next to the Cintiq.
And the backup hard drive next to it.
The digital files for her Lady Liberty comic book lived on that laptop and hard drive. If she fried them… She’d be out a month’s worth of work.
Jeff Strickland, the editor of Crash Comics, had the prepress files for issue #1 and #2, but not #3! It only lived on Kristy’s laptop and hard drive.
“I should’ve used the cloud!” she cringed. “Okay, starting tomorrow, I’m backing everything up to the cloud. After I figure out how to touch my computer without ruining it! Hmm. Where do I put my juice?! This is a serious issue!”
Kristy looked around her apartment, trying to think of a safe way to de-juice.
“The extension cords! I can ground myself and dump the juice that way! No, that’ll trip the circuit breaker!”
What if she fed her juice down the white neutral line? That would send it back to the transformer outside. But she had to use the right circuit. She didn’t want to risk frying her computer!
“The kitchen!”
The only thing on the kitchen breaker was the light over the kitchen table in the dining area, the kitchen light, the fridge, the microwave, and the kitchen outlets. That should be safe.
She got one of her orange extension cords from the bedroom, plugged it into a kitchen outlet, and grabbed the white wire. Started slowly pouring juice down the wire. The breaker could only handle 20 amps at a time. Who knew how many amps Kristy had stored up from sleeping all night with both wires juicing her up?
“160 ampere hours,” her dad said in her head. When Dad’d been alive, he knew all about electrical stuff, the math parts too, and had taught Kristy everything she knew.
“Yeah, but how many amps can I get rid of in a minute?”
Her dad had no answer for that because Kristy’d never enjoyed the math parts. She liked the practical applications way more.
“Guess I wait.”
“Patience always pays,” Dad’d liked to say.
With nothing better to do but stand in the kitchen, Kristy picked up a slice of pizza from the Rubbermaid and started chomping. Sat down at the kitchen-dining room table to eat and de-juice.
Hmm, things not to touch while juiced up?
Smart phone?
Dead.
Laptop?
Not dead.
Hard drive?
Not dead either.
Credit cards!
Definitely don’t touch your purse until you de-juice!
What a pain!
But she could pick up the mess she’d made in the bathroom. Holding the extension cord in one hand, she walked into her bathroom to grab the silverware out of the sink.
Saw herself in the mirror.
The block-letter logo of the baby-Tee stretched over her breasts in elegant curves.
She smirked at herself and laughed, “Who knew being a BADASS BITCH was such a hassle?”
—: Chapter 7 :—
Naked boobs stared back at me.
A hint of an open blouse was visible on either side, but no sign of any bra. The breasts were pressed flat against glass, the eraser nipples bent this way and that. Despite the distortion of being squished against glass, the breasts were highly appealing, to say the least.
But it wasn’t the real thing. It was a full-color photocopy.
Clifton whispered, “Are those Stazia’s?”
“I guess?” I said with both hope and surprise.
“Lemme see,” Rene demanded, grabbing for the folder.
Suddenly, footsteps came walking along the carpet outside my cubicle.
SLAP!
I whacked the file folder shut on Rene’s fingers as our boss Sanjay Gadroo came walking up. “We having a meeting?”
Rene and Clifton’s backs were both facing Sanjay. The frightened looks on their faces would suggest they were being mugged at gunpoint.
“What’s that?” Sanjay asked, obviously meaning the folder in my lap.
The one covering my rager.
And the boob pic inside.
“Nothing!” I blurted.
YouDoIt had very strict sexual harassment policies, and we all knew we’d get fired if we got caught looking at printed boob pics at the office. Sanjay was cool for a boss, but his ass would be on the line if he let it slide and someone found out later. This was a big deal.
Sanjay arched an eyebrow, expecting an answer.
I said in a strained voice, “It’s just some forms from HR!”
Sanjay frowned. “HR? I don’t remember hearing about anything coming in from HR this week.”
I blurted again, “I’m making some changes to my 401(k)!”
At YouDoIt, employees were allowed to adjust their 401(k) contributions at any time of year.
“Ahh,” Sanjay smiled. He checked his Apple watch and said, “Don’t forget we have a staff meeting at eleven.”
Clifton yelped, “We’ll be there with bells on!”
Sanjay frowned and his thick mustache curled into a smirk, “Everything okay, Cliff?”
“Never better!” he yelped in a voice more strangled than before.
Sanjay’s eyes flicked suspiciously between me, Clifton, and Rene. “Did I miss something?”
We all smiled guiltily.
Clifton said hastily, “I was just telling Doug to make the maximum 401(k) contribution. Right, Doug? Your paycheck will be less, but it’ll be totally worth it when you’re ready to retire! Isn’t that right, Doug?!”
Rene blurted, “I was saying the same thing! Max contribution! Right, Doug?! Max to the max!”
“Uh, yeah,” I chuckled nervously.
Sanjay thought, Whatever they’re hiding, I don’t want to know. He checked his watch again. “Meeting at eleven. Don’t be late.”
When he was gone, Rene whispered, “Lemme see that pick again!”
“No, Rene!” I hissed, “Go back to your cubicle! You too, Clifton!”
They reluctantly retreated, Rene still in his chair and pushing himself backward with his shoes while wincing and clutching his back.
Brrrrr-deep!
I looked at my phone and saw it was Clifton’s extension.
I answered, “What?!”
“Those have to be Stazia’s boobs,” he whispered. “Whose else would they be?!” The desperation in his voice was overpowering.
I could relate.
“Do you think they’re real?” Clifton demanded. “They looked real to me.”
“I have no idea, Clifton,” I said with annoyance. That said, I picked up the corner of the file folder and took a second look at the pic.
“Are you checking?! Tell me you’re checking!”
“No, I’m not checking!” I hissed before letting the folder close.
“Do you think she had the pic on her phone, or do you think she put her boobs on the photocopier here at work?”
“I don’t know!”
“How could she possibly copy them without someone seeing?”
“Maybe she did it after hours. I hope she cleared the copier memory.”
Having missed my last comment, Clifton said righteously, “Who photocopies their boobs these days? That is so 1990s! Wouldn’t it be simpler for her to message them to you?”
“Not if she doesn’t have my phone number, which she doesn’t. Can we talk about this later? When we’re not in the office? I don’t want to get fired.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll figure this out over lunch.”
“Figure what out?”
“The mystery of whose boobs those are!”
“Fine. I’m hanging up now. Bye!” I dropped the phone in the cradle and heaved a sigh. Stared at the tax forms on my monitor. Glanced at the file folder on my desk. I couldn’t leave it lying there. Someone might see it. I picked up the folder. Spun around in my desk and faced the aisle, which put my back against the wall. Held the folder up in front of my face like I was reading it. Flipped to the pic of the boobs.
Sure were nice. They definitely looked real.
Could they be Stazia’s?
They had to be, because, why would she give me a picture of someone else’s boobs?
As someone passed by my cubicle, I glanced up. It was nobody. But I noticed Rene was staring at me greedily.
He silently mouthed the words, “Lemme see!”
I glared at him and shook my head.
He rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk with a wince, again clutching his back.
The more I thought about it, the less this made any sense. Why would Stunning Stazia Wilcox actually press her boobs against a photocopier here at the office and take a picture of them for me?
The very idea was completely ridiculous. Clifton was right: it would make more sense for her to have sent me a naked selfie. But, like I had said, she didn’t have my smart phone number. More importantly, hot bombshells like her never gave me the time of day.
Man, it was ever so easy to forget I had gone from being a forgettable nerd to an unforgettable super-stud since getting my powers. It had only been a month.
Brrrrr-deep!
Irritated, I grabbed my phone and barked, “What, Clifton?!”
“Um… it’s Stazia.”
Gulp.
“Rgh-em!” I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. My heart thudding, I said as calmly as possible. “Hey, Stazia.”
“Did you get the form?” she asked seductively.
“Which one,” I chuckled.
“You know,” she said flirtatiously.
“Yes, I got the image file,” I said. “Are those…? Were they…? Did you…?” I couldn’t finish any of my sentences without stating the obvious, which I did not want to do here in the office.
“What are you doing later?” Stazia asked, ignoring my questions.
“Uhh… when later?”
“How about lunch? Can we talk over lunch?”
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever you want,” she giggled.
Fuck.
She said, “Let’s get lunch. Today. My treat.”
“Ahhh, sure. Why not?” I couldn’t believe this was happening.
She asked, “Do you know Amante’s in Bankers Hill?”
“The French Bistro?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I live near there.”
“Perfect. Meet me there at noon.”
“Oh, uh, I have a staff meeting until noon. I can’t make it any earlier than 12:30. Is there someplace closer to Serra Mesa? Like Subway or McDonald’s?” Both restaurants were within walking distance of the office, but I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. Who — besides ignorant nerds who’d never been out on a date with any woman — suggested having lunch with a woman like Stunning Stazia at fricking Subway or McDonald’s? Besides this one?
“Um…” Stazia said doubtfully. “I prefer Amante’s.”
Resisting the urge to face palm, I grumbled, “Never mind. We’ll do, I mean we’ll go to Amante’s.” I knew enough to know I shouldn’t be making this situation any more difficult than I already had. As it was, it felt like a flimsy gossamer fantasy that might come apart in my clumsy hands any second. “I’ll see you at Amante’s at noon.” If I had to ditch out on Sanjay’s staff meeting, I would, and I’d deal with the consequences later. Anything to have one-on-one lunch with Stazia Fricking Wilcox. “Wait, it’s just lunch with you, right? No one else?”
“Just me,” she said with a smile in her voice.
“Okay, I’ll be there at noon, like you said.”
“Oh, um, 12:30 is okay. If you want?”
“Are you sure? We can do noon. I mean meet at noon.” All I could think about was doing Stazia. She had given me a fricking photo of boobs! Whether they were hers or not didn’t matter. It was naked fricking boobs!
“No, 12:30 works,” she said. “I have to go. See you then.
Bye-eeee!”
I hung up the phone with a bewildered look on my face.
“Was that Stazia?” Clifton whispered behind me.
“JESUS!” I shouted and jumped out of my chair.
Rene was beside him, sitting in his office chair. He said, “It was her, wasn’t it?”
I glared at them both.
Clifton and Rene were both nerds. They had probably had less sex in their lives than I had, and that was depressingly little. Clifton frequently claimed to have had more sex than a male gigolo (his word), but Rene and I knew he was lying and always called him on it, at which point Clifton would begrudgingly admit his tendency to exaggerate the facts.
That said, they were my friends.
Grinning from ear to ear, I said, “Yeah, it was her. She wants to have lunch with me.”
“When?” Clifton gasped.
“Today.”
“What time?” Rene begged.
“12:30.”
“Where?!” Clifton demanded.
I frowned, “I’m not telling you guys.”
“If you don’t…” Rene threatened, “…we’ll follow you.”
“Screw you,” I chuckled. “There’s no way I’m letting you guys screw this up by hiding behind some potted plants to spy on us. I can already picture it: you’ll knock the plants over onto Stazia while we’re eating, then knock our entire table over with a bang, shattering every plate and glass on the floor. Everyone at the restaurant will stare, and Stazia will never talk to me again. No.”
“We’ll sit at a table like normal people,” Clifton insisted.
Rene said, “We won’t say anything!”
“No!” I said. “You’re not screwing this up for me. Now get out of here!”
After they had gone back to their cubicles, I surreptitiously folded up the boob pic and put it in the front pocket of my khakis for safe keeping — right next to my unshakable rager.
Fricking Stunning Stazia Wilcox!
—: Chapter 8 :—
When 11:45am rolled around during the staff meeting, I suddenly said, “Do you mind if I cut out early, Sanjay?”
He sat at the head of the long conference table in the meeting room. The rest of our seven-member team were also seated around the table: Me, Clifton, Rene, Aiko, Oren, and Greg.
I sat next to Sanjay near the door, which was not my usual seat.
