Kharmic Rebound

by Yeager, Aaron

  What do you want?

  Zurra locked her fingers behind her back and rocked from side to side adorably. “I think we got off on the wrong hoof, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier.”

  The other students nearby nodded to each other, considering this a reasonable thing to say. Somewhat odd, but reasonable.

  Cha’Rolette looked her over suspiciously, then sighed. I suppose it is the responsibility of the elite to give an example of patience to the commoners.

  Zurra tapped a control on Cha’Rolette’s desk, indicating they wanted to have a discreet conversation. The floor formed up around them into a privacy chamber.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Zurra’s countenance changed. She slammed her hands down on the desk.

  “Are you ready for round one?” She smirked confidently.

  Cha’Rolette was unaffected. Are you trying to pick a fight with me?

  “Oh no,” Zurra said, waving her hand. “Because if I did, you would lose.”

  Cha’Rolette gave a mental snort. I am a Ssykes. We do not allow ourselves to be goaded into action by some vagabond bourgeoisie. If you must compete, you’ll be doing it alone.

  Zurra crinkled her freckled nose. “Good, I’ll have that printed on our wedding invitations after I steal Gerald away from you.”

  Cha’Rolette snarled. You... you... little ball of snot. Do you realize I could, with the slightest effort, erase your memories, or make you think you’re a toadstool for the rest of your life?

  Zurra laughed. “Go ahead and try it.” To emphasize her point, she took her own fist and rammed it into her ear, shoving it inside her head up to her elbow. She rooted her arm around inside her own head, stretching it this way and that. “You see? I don’t even have a brain.”

  That’s really not something to boast about.

  The privacy chamber came back down and Zurra happily skipped away back to her own desk.

  “What was that all about?” Ilrica asked as she came over and sat down next to Cha’Rolette.

  She has exposed her animus to peculate Mr. Dyson.

  Ilrica furrowed her brow. “She’s going to what his what?”

  Cha’Rolette sighed. She was serious about courting Dyson.

  “Oh, okay, cause that sounded nasty for a second.”

  Cha’Rolette scoffed. To you, everything is innuendo.

  “Remind me again who was trying to get him to look down her shirt in the cafeteria? Sounds pretty trashy to me.”

  Shut up, Faolan.

  “You shut up.”

  The two of them glared at each other and then watched as Zurra triumphantly pulled out a small Tupperware from her backpack and presented it to Gerald.

  “What is that?”

  Cha’Rolette’s eyes widened. She made him a home-cooked lunch. She’s better than I thought.

  “Is that significant?” Trahzi asked.

  Both girls jumped with fright, then turned around to find Trahzi standing behind them.

  “Frakk, you scared me. How long have you been standing there?”

  “We are always here,” Trahzi answered ominously.

  Ilrica and Cha’Rolette looked at each other. “She is totally creeping me out.”

  But to answer your question, yes, making food for the male is a basic courtship ritual amongst... well almost everybody. The database in Central says humans are no different.

  Zurra giggled leaned in and whispered something to Gerald.

  “What is she saying?”

  She’s asking him to have lunch with her on the roof.

  Ilrica scoffed. “She’s outta luck then. Dyson is a total grass-eater. He’d never accept an offer to...”

  Gerald accepted Zurra’s offer, and the two of them got up and walked off together.

  The three girls couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

  As Zurra walked by, she leaned over and boasted. “Face it girls, you’ve already lost. I’ve known Gerald for years, you don’t stand a chance. You should just give up now.”

  As she left with Gerald, Cha’Rolette’s stylus snapped in her grip. Well... I... NEVER!

  Ilrica gave off a low growl. “I’m having her planet moved to the top of the list.”

  Trahzi tapped her finger against her luscious lips. “Fascinating. So the fight to secure love follows the same patterns as warfare.”

  She’s not completely wrong, though. As his childhood friend, she has a definite advantage.

  “But she’s just a child,” Trahzi observed. “Surely he’d be more attracted to a woman.”

  Yeah, but flirting, kissing, sexy outfits, none of that stuff will work on him.

  “What else is there?”

  Cha’Rolette balled her fists. Dyson doesn’t see us as sexual objects, he just looks at us as respected classmates.

  “I hate that about him.”

  A moment of sadness passed over Cha’Rolette’s face. Unconsciously, she ran her fingers over her flawlessly toned stomach. He’s such a jerk. I spend a lot of time polishing my figure. The least he could do is notice once in a while. He’s never even tried to hold my hand.

  Ilrica leaned forward, a twinkle in her eye. “So... you do want him to hold your hand?”

  Cha’Rolette snapped out of it. Of... of course not. I’d kill him if he tried.

  Trahzi regarded her own figure, looking a little unsure. “Perhaps human men don’t like large breasts.”

  “Yeah, in the end all those globs of fat do is slow you down.” Ilrica slapped one of her muscular thighs. “What males want is a lean woman who can keep up with the rest of the pack.”

  Trahzi was offended. “They are not globs of fat, do not call them that.”

  “Fine, they’re bags of fatty meat. Good for eating, bad for lugging around. Throws off your center of balance, makes you clumsy and sluggish. You can’t take down a mymmota with a pair of those flapping about.”

  Tomar coughed loudly from his desk. “Is this really an appropriate conversation for the classroom?”

  Quite right.

  “Besides,” Tomar added, “breasts are not filled with fatty meat.”

  “They’re not?”

  Tomar’s orange eyes became distant and dreamy. “No, they are filled with the hopes and dreams of men everywhere.”

  Several of the male students nodded in agreement.

  All the female students scowled at Tomar, cowing him into submission. He put his head down and quietly read his book.

  Trahzi turned to Ilrica harshly. “Faolan, you have managed to offend us.”

  “Finally.” Ilrica licked her fingers and swiped them through the air. A scoreboard made of light appeared, giving her ten more points.

  “We did not think it was possible to do so.”

  With Faolan, all things are possible.

  “This feeling is new to us. It makes us want to offend you in return.”

  “Good luck.”

  Trahzi looked Ilrica over, scanning for something to retaliate with. “Did you know, according to Central, that most humans are allergic to pet dander?”

  Ilrica scratched her neck. “What the frakk is dander?”

  “Fur.”

  Ilrica’s eyes shot open in concern.

  Trahzi nodded gravely. “Gerald could be deathly allergic to you.”

  “S... so what? It’s not like I care about Dyson.”

  Cha’Rolette turned away. Neither do I.

  Trahzi looked at them oddly. “This is not about feelings. We only need him for our mission, nothing more.”

  The three sat there for several minutes, all of them silently affirming that they didn’t care. It was Cha’Rolette who finally broke the stalemate. She grabbed her ringlets and yanked on them. Garg, this is so infuriating. Why can’t he be like other guys? I’ve never had this much trouble before. I had Tomar eating out of my hand in the first two minutes!

  “Hey!” Tomar protested.

  Oh, go to sleep, she commanded, shooing him with her hand. Her ta’atu glowed
and Tomar’s head fell back in a deep sleep.

  Ilrica scratched behind her ear with her hind paw. “If he were a Bertulf, I’d just release a musk into the air to indicate that I was willing to mate.”

  Trahzi and Cha’Rolette looked at her with disgust on their faces.

  “What? It’s no grosser than the stuff you guys do.”

  Tomar snored loudly, a trickle of drool falling from the corner of his mouth.

  “It would help if we knew more about Gerald,” Trahzi observed. “Most men we can learn everything we need to know about them by what they store in their external memory, the posts and videos they upload, their voting and purchasing histories, sites visited; but Gerald is completely off the grid.”

  Cha’Rolette was aghast. Do you know how much the fines are if you get caught slicing into someone’s private footprint like that?

  Trahzi shrugged. “We have no need for money.”

  I knew there was a reason I didn’t like you.

  Ilrica flicked her tail around. “But if he’s off the net that still leaves us nowhere. I mean, who else even knows him?”

  The three of them looked up.

  * * *

  Up on the rooftop, Gerald sat dejectedly against the wall, throwing daggers at Zurra with his eyes. “You know, Zuri, blackmail is the lowest form of persuasion.”

  Zurra gave a self-satisfied smile as she fanned herself with the worn Mead spiral notebook she held in her hands. Flipping it open to a frayed page, she read aloud. “‘I am half-dragon and half god, with just one of my little fingers I can punch through planets, my muscles are so big not even death can contain me, I am Amazing All-Powerful Super-Muscley Manly Man!...’”

  “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Gerald called out, his face bright red.

  “Such marvelous prose for a grade-schooler,” she teased.

  “I thought that thing disappeared years ago.”

  “It did, right into my hope chest.”

  “You always did have sticky fingers.”

  “Do I?” Zurra stuck her thumb and forefinger together, then pulled them apart like taffy.

  “Very funny, so what do I have to do to keep this off the school network?”

  She held out the Tupperware happily. “You can start by eating the lunch I made for you.”

  Gerald cracked it open and examined the pleasantly steaming contents. Sweet and Sour Chicken, ham-fried rice, and steamed vegetables. Gerald poked at it suspiciously with his fork. “You realize I’m breaking my fast for this?”

  Zurra cleared her throat and cracked open the book again. “‘He screamed and became even more powerful, his muscles doubling in size. His enemy fell to his knees; he knew he could never beat him. A thousand princesses wept at his feet. You have ruined us. We can never be satisfied with any other man now. He leapt atop a great black spider and rode her like a mount...’”

  “Okay, okay, stop it!”

  Zurra grinned cutely. “Don’t bite the hand that burns the bridge.”

  “Man, I can’t believe how painful it is to hear that stuff read out loud.”

  “You’ve always been like this,” she said with adoring eyes. “You can weather the hatred of the whole universe without flinching, but threaten to expose your private writings and you curl up like a pill bug.”

  “‘Like a pill bug?’ That isn’t even a saying. Where do you get this stuff?”

  Zurra smiled lovingly as she rolled up the notebook and placed it in her pocket, then handed him a spork.

  “Hey, a KFC spork,” Gerald said, brightening up. “I haven’t seen one of these in years.”

  “I have all sorts of earth stuff back in my room. Come by later and I’ll show them to you.”

  “Let’s just have lunch for now,” he cautioned.

  “For now,” she emphasized. “He who lives by the sword will pay the piper.”

  Gerald scooped up a piece of chicken and placed it in his mouth. He chewed it cautiously, then his expression brightened.

  “How is it?” she asked worriedly.

  “It’s good.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. Yeah, it’s really really good, actually. You’ve gotten a lot better.”

  Zurra squeaked with joy and hugged him around the neck. “I told you I’d practice. I haven’t forgotten our promise to one another.”

  “Promise, wha...”

  He was cut off when she tried to kiss him on the lips.

  “Zuri! Stop, wha... what are you doing?”

  The Tupperware fell from his hands, the contents spilling on the ground. After a moment of struggling, he finally managed to place his hand in between her face and his.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, hurt.

  “What’s wrong? Are you trying to get me arrested or something?”

  She released him and tilted her head like a puppy.

  “You’re just a kid. People see you trying to kiss me they’ll think I’m some pedophile or something. I’ll spend the rest of my life in the spice mines of Kessel or whatever they have around here.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Is that all?”

  “Is... that... all?” he asked as she laughed. “Yes, I’d consider a lifetime of incarceration to be a very big thing.”

  She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean this.”

  She reformed herself into an older version of herself. Still completely pink, she now looked like a human female in her early twenties wearing overalls.

  “See? Problem solved.”

  Gerald was stunned. Watching the tomboy he grew up with suddenly change into a beautiful woman was something his brain was completely unprepared for. What had been scraggily hair was now long, silky femininity. What were once cute little freckles on her nose and cheeks were now a sultry dusting on beautiful, glowing skin. The overalls had resized themselves along with her, but now their hard straight lines strained deliciously, hinting at soft curved hips beneath.

  She hooded her eyelids in that irresistible way that made his heart pound in his chest. She arched her back naughtily, emphasizing her deliciously soft curves. “Is this better?” she asked, her voice now low and husky, yet still enchantingly feminine.

  “H... holy cow,” was all he could say. He was blushing from head to toe.

  Leaning forward, Zurra closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his. He yelped in surprise, but she wrapped herself around him, enveloping him in a blanket of pink as she kissed him passionately.

  When she finally released him, he was frozen in place.

  Zurra giggled. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

  Gerald looked confused.

  “Was that your first kiss?” She tittered at his awkwardness

  Gerald struggled and she released him. “Of course it was!” he said, trying to catch his breath.

  “Did you like it?” She asked with a naughty smile

  “Honestly?” He asked, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve.

  “Honestly.”

  “It was amazing.”

  “I knew you’d like it,” she said with an impish wink

  “...which is why I’m never doing it again.”

  “Wha?”

  “I’m training to be a priest, you idiot! That’s where my focus is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to confession.”

  Gerald got up and ran off, leaving a very confused Zurinite behind.

  “Huh... well, that is a reaction I wouldn’t have expected,” she said aloud.

  Zurra grinned devilishly. “But, as long as I have this, I can make him do whatever I want.”

  She cackled maniacally and thrust her hand in her pocket, but found nothing.

  “Hey, where’d it go?” She looked around fruitlessly. “When did he?”

  * * *

  As Gerald ran across the quad, he tossed the mead notebook into a waste receptacle. There was a flash from within as the paper was atomized.

  * * *

&nbs
p; “Oh, that sneaky sneak!” Zurra yelled back on the rooftop.

  She rolled back into a ball and paced back and forth. “Guess that just means I’ll have to try harder.” She paused and formed a fist that thrust up defiantly into the air. “All good things come to she who makes the fat lady sing!”

  * * *

  Mary Dyson gave the mental command that swapped out her Cleric’s Renown Armor for the superior Fenrir set. In response, the psychic link in her helmet flooded her real body with a wave of satisfaction that was truly unreal. It wasn’t just her character’s stats that were going up, she truly felt more powerful, healthy, alive. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket of pure rapture, and she could scarcely imagine a life without this feeling.

  It had taken months of farming ogres in the Nebilhalf mountain caves to gather enough renowned tokens to buy the whole set, made worse by a criminally bad glitch made by the seemingly incompetent design team that made the drops impossible to loot on some of the bodies. But none of that seemed to matter now.

  Her in-game body glowed with holy light, and her guild-mates came up to congratulate her. Through the psychic link, she could feel the praise down to the marrow in her bones. It filled her entire being. Beneath the helmet she wore, her bloodshot eyes, outlined by dark purple bags of skin, rolled back into her head as the feeling overwhelmed her.

  Time ceased to exist; for a while she floated, then it all came crashing down. Her real body shook, her muscles cramped, her breathing became shallow and harsh. Her heartbeat became erratic.

  As she clenched her fists, the dried skin on her knuckles cracked. Every time it took longer to achieve, each time the duration was shorter. When she had first started playing True Life, the bliss had lasted for days at a time, now only a few minutes and it had worn off already.

  Cursing under her breath, she began making plans to upgrade her character’s staff. The Gardens Staff was not something for the faint- hearted. It would be the longest quest she had ever undertaken. Easily six months of constant farming. The instance took three hours to clear, and that was with an experienced team. Forts went vulnerable at noon and six, so she would be hard pressed to get two runs in between each vulnerability. Only the ending boss dropped the necessary components for the staff, and then only rarely. Veludens were truly cruel people for programming such abysmal drop rates.