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occamstfs · 8 days ago

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Keep On Trucking

Jonah thought he'd hate the rental truck he got when he flew back home. But after throwing on a hat he found in the cabin it seems like he's liking the thing more with every passing mile.

Thought we could do with some more sentimental southerner TFs so here we are ! Happy surprise that it coincides with a certain Texan AOTY ;) Sweaty, strong, and sweet, hope you enjoy Jonah's journey to a new home in the country! -Occam

It must be some form of cosmic comedy that Jonah’s only rental option was this wretched gas-guzzling juggernaut. Sitting a good fair few feet above every other car on the road, the truck that’s been foisted onto him simply demands attention. There’s a tight-lipped grimace on his face as the laundry list of insults he’s hurled at people who drive these fragile masculinity-mobiles over the years rush through his mind.

He’d never say them to a driver of course, both from a general fear of confrontation and a healthy fear of large loud men. His insults thrown never escape the glass panes of his Elantra. Nothing more than playful jibes to help work through the fear of sharing the road with drivers who could literally roll over him, and oft seem to want to. Just barking self-soothingly, like a chihuahua at a caged great dane.

His self-consciousness at plowing down the highway is interrupted however as a small car quite similar to the one he drives back at home veers towards him. Thankfully the road is not too crowded as he swerves to avoid the red speed-demon who flips him off before shooting ahead, surging into the distance to escape the sound of Jonah’s horn blaring.

The nervous young man clutches at his shirt as he feels his pulse in his head. Eventually he sees the red pinpricks of brake lights disappear and his hands stop shaking from the near-collision. Sighing, he tries to steady his breathing and hopes the rest of his nerves will follow suit. Only then does the strangest thought occur to him ‘Thank god I was driving a truck.’

Jonah rubs his smooth jaw and grumbles to himself, “I guess there are some upsides to driving a freakin’ tank, ugh.” As he puts it to words he can’t help but continue thinking on the matter, besides maniacs like that little punk, people are probably way more likely to respect me on the road driving this thing. He wistfully stares at the road ahead lost in thought, though before taking the leap further to the lofty thoughts that people are more likely to respect his masculinity and authority in this beast, he shakes it off and clears his throat.

“Ugh I need a coffee or something.” Squirming in the seat slightly, only then does he notice the continued discomfort from his brush with danger; He’s sweating up a storm. Cranking up the AC as high as it goes he wipes his brow and tries to push sweaty hair out from his face. When a heavy drop falls into his eyes causing him to shout a hearty “fuck!” He pulls over to the side of the road and searches for a headband or something to solve this issue, “God why’s it so hot in here!”

Looking down at his now clearly sweat-stained shirt he groans, no way is he going to show up to his hometown friend’s party looking like such a slob. He briefly considers using the sweaty top to hold back his hair but thinks better of it, giving it a sniff he finds his deodorant has not been nearly as effective as it usually is. Frowning and going straight to the source he smells his pit and immediately cringes away, “Man what is up with me today? It’s like I forgot to put it on.”

Distracted by his strange overheating, the still-present need for a headband, and now wondering what on Earth he’s going to wear to his friend’s, Jonah doesn’t notice how, beyond the bizarrely more powerful scent, he has begun to change. The few thin curls in his armpit have multiplied without his notice, stretching longer and spreading beyond their usually trimmed patch. Each new strand drips with sweat, permeating his new musk as he scrambles about the cabin looking for some bandana or hat.

“Duuuuub-” Jonah’s hand bumps into the brim of a hat which he quickly yanks out from the dark recesses of the rental truck only to tilt his head as finding a tacky camo baseball cap, “eugh-” After rubbing his hand through his sweaty hair once more, he grimaces and throws it on anyway, “sorry to whoever's hat this is-” It’s not like he’s going to be seen in the kitschy backwater cosplay, he just needs to make it to a store or somewhere where he can buy a shirt and hair tie, then he’ll be scot-free.

Checking the time with a gasp he returns to the open road without much thought at all, leaving him totally unaware as his hair begins to creep into the cap. Long dirty blonde curls shorn to almost nothing, shortening into some short masc choppy look that doesn’t even have a name. Far from his mind’s eye the idea of going to a barber for years buries itself and begins spreading tendrils towards other inactive memories, “Been a few weeks Rob- Just give me the usual.” Were he to picture the memory he would surely see a man who is not himself in the mirror.

The mirror? His eyes glance to his rearview and he gasps as he sees it’s suddenly angled way off. His usual anxiety quickly makes itself known in his sweaty chest. Eyes wide and on the road he doesn’t look down to catch as each quivering heartbeat leaves his chest wider, sticking out further as disparate strands of muscle begin to bulge. In the few half-seconds of him checking his other mirrors Jonah’s chest begins packing on quite the impressive pecs. “Musta- er Must’ve bumped it or, something?”

Going to adjust the mirror his usually careful hand forcefully bumps into it, grunting he wonders how. He didn’t even lean forward, which he knows he had to do when he first got in the truck. His arm would have to be almost half a foot longer. Throwing his hazards on he quickly pulls over once more, again neglecting to notice his changed hair in the mirror as he instead gasps in shock as he sees the arm of a behemoth dangling from his shoulder.

In the minute since throwing on the ratty ball cap his arms have begun to grow. Every twitching movement on the wheel, every extension, even the slightest adjustment of his now less-than delicate fingers has been sending waves of change across forearms to which the idea of muscle definition is anathema. His mouth falls open as he takes notice of biceps that would have easily erupted from the sweat-stained shirt he had on, or rather, any shirt he owns.

Jonah tries to process the meaty hands at the end of meatier arms, staring at the movement of individual muscle fibers under tight, suddenly tanned skin. He gulps as he sees them twitch with every accidental movement, power he can hardly understand coursing through them. His lip quivers into a grin as the idea occurs to flex them and he raises his arm to do so, exposing his tangle of pit hair and allowing sweat to drip down his chest.

Though just before getting the chance to truly indulge and delight, feeling the cold rivulet racing down his side he looks down to discover the new weight hanging on his chest. His eyes shimmer with wonder as he stares at pecs as sculpted as Michelangelo’s David now bulge from under his neck as it too thickens with another harsh swallow. His voice drops while his rougher hands go to cup his pecs, rubbing the few apparently shaved hairs as they begin their regrowth.

Despite his usual lucidity and rationality, something about seeing the rugged arms and chest of a man twice his size, something about feeling the strain of new biceps moving or seeing his handful of almost invisible chest hairs darkening alongside a congregation of new curls, his mind is awash with instincts that don’t seem his own. He smirks as he looks at his reflection in the now-adjusted mirror, higher in the seat both from his body lengthening as well as from sitting straighter with pride, he scratches at the stubble appearing on his chin and turns back to the road thicker brows furrowed into a cocky sneer, “They’re gonna be all fuckin’ over me at this party.”

Dragging his attention from his bulking body back to the road, Jonah can’t help but continue thinking about what a stud he’s becoming, what a stud he is. So focused on the strength ambient within him, delighting on the sensations coursing through him as he playfully flexes his arms and chest, that he hasn’t chance to notice his thoughts truly changing alongside his form. Suddenly a Texas-shaped bottle opener dangles from the set of keys that look far too beat up for a rental company to hand out. Obviously of course, why would a rental company have his truck?

One hand on the steering wheel, Jonah can no longer resist groping at the growing bulge that strains his pants. While it’s been certainly hard since the first glimpse of his bulging bicep, as his pride grows so does what may as well be the source of his masculinity. With each clumsy rub and grasp of his package as it threatens to break free from his pants, he continues to become the man to match his apparent wheels.

So too does his truck slightly shift to perfectly display the man that now identifies as its owner. The floorboard where a ball cap was hidden is littered with detritus from living in the country. Dirt paints the once spotless chassis of the vehicle and at the same time, hair thickens on his form as pubes inch above their brief containment, connecting with a treasure trail that begs to expand.

His balls throb as his once imperceptible treasure trail indeed races to cover the whole of his stomach before racing up to a chest that yields to its own mouth-watering pattern of fur. Pits still dripping with sweat lengthen and spread tantalizingly close to meeting with his garden of chest hair.

Jonah grunts as his new bulge grows large enough that the constriction is outright painful. Freeing his impressive rod it becomes clear that his accusations of redneck truckers compensating could not be further from the truth, in his case that is. His seat creaks under his weight as he squirms to pull his pants down to his knees, freeing bulkier thighs and a perfect bubble butt as both are similarly painted with haphazard brushes of hair. Inner thighs coated with curls add to the rugged forest around his pre-dripping package while new curls on his ass tickle against his warm, sweat-covered seat.

Halfway to masturbating he bites his lip as he tries to restrain his desires and continue driving, though the pushing down of his rigid rod so easily shifts to tugs and thrusts. His sticky, wanting breaths fertilize the growth of stubble on his face that will never vacate and a mustache sticking to his upper lip that will always be just a tad thicker. Meanwhile his calloused hands continue to tantalize a cock edging closer to a release that he will not let yet arrive. Moaning from the intense need of his loins he grits his teeth and powers down the road voice deep and clearly accented as he whispers to himself, “Gotta save mah spunk for the party…”

Still with each slow grasp and pull towards release, his form continues to pack on weight and slick with denser forests of hair. So too does his outfit change to match his new life, with each half-thrust into his hand the brim on his hat widens, its cheap camo-green fading as it becomes a Stetson that any man of his stature demands. Slightly dressy pants stain blue and roughen into jeans while his shirt disappears entirely.

Finally, shoes that have given up the ghost long ago to feet that would cause anyone’s eyes to widen begin staining brown and reforming. Long, hairy toes that stick out from the once tennis shoes are corralled into the dark, expensive leather of genuine cowboy boots. The new soles click against the pedals of his truck and his thicker brows continue to furrow as he struggles not to cum at the sound of his beast rumbling down the road.

At long last Jonah comes up on the turn to his friend’s little shindig and he sighs in relief at making it before he spills a load on himself. Turning down a long dirt driveway he narrows his eyes as he feels something amiss, would’ve sworn his friend lived in a suburb or somethin’. But then he blinks and remembers obviously not. His boys’d never wanna share their streets with self-important, pretentious pricks.

Parking in the grass alongside a handful of other trucks, Jonah grunts as he forces his cock down his jeans, its outline quite the clarion call down his pant leg. Buttoning up and cinching a gaudy belt-buckle, Jonah steps out into the party, grabbing a couple of six packs of Lone Star and waddles over to the gathered crew. Taking a deep breath of the cold dusk air as the sun begins to sink past the horizon, though beneath the smell of the woods there is a clear undercurrent of sweaty bodies and something richer, saliter.

Depositing beers that were once a host’s gift and some seltzers, Jonah turns to be greeted by cheers of burly men that seem to have already paired off. Scratching his stubble as he looks for his own quarry his eyes alight onto one shy looking twink standing to the side. Seems he didn’t get the memo that this isn’t some post-ironic gathering, not even wearing a cowboy hat.

More than ready for some fun, Jonah grabs a discarded hat on the table and wanders over to the lone man. The twink eyes him with a wry smile as he can’t miss the obviously altered gait, they then widen when he recognizes the man as Jonah, “J- Jonah!?” his mouth drops open and his eyes glaze over as something readjusts, “You’ve really, uhm- filled out?” Though even as he says it the idea of the late-comer looking any different than this seems incorrect.

Jonah ignores the man, Anton, and deposits the hat on his head, leaning down he whispers in his ear, “Evenin’ Ant. You wanna go have some fun?” Anton’s mouth waters as the larger man stands close enough to wash him in musk before deliberately jabbing him with his thick bulge. He babbles something as the new hat blurs his thoughts a tad though it’s more than clear that the thin man, bored out of his mind, has been looking for excitement that only Jonah could bring all night.

Arm around Anton’s shoulder, Jonah escorts him to the back of the nearby barn, already littered with cans and clearly stained by haphazard bodily fluids. Neither man cares as they begin to use the wall just as seemingly every party-goer before them has. Jonah pushes him against the wall and the pair indulge in each other as if there were nothing else in the world. The hat falls from Ant’s head as he begins to change with or without it. His trimmed pubes rapidly stretch above his hairless waistline, racing to connect with chest hair that isn’t even there yet.

His waxed face scratches against Jonah’s itchy jaw and his mouth waters with hunger and jealousy. Before he can even consciously wish for something similar, his own face is overcome with the burning sensation of pores expanding into stubble that has never been given the chance to seed bursting forth. Soon enough his entire face is overtaken by thick lancing curls of a beard. After not much time at all the pair are worked up enough that making out is not nearly enough.

Even as his suitor puts on weight and muscle mass, Jonah easily hoists him up and finally makes use of his new heavy cock. It’s not clear how long the pair exercise their new forms behind the barn. Ant’s rushed initiation into the world of assless chaps and hairy backs and Jonah’s final steps into the hard-working world of farm living last forever and no time at all. Though by the end both men are thoroughly consumed by their new hairy, muscled selves.

Their hairy bodies rub against each other as new lives together bloom in their minds. Maintaining a small homestead in the town they grew up in, often traveling into the nearby city to show city-folk that country boys ain’t all bad and making it clear to any small minded townies that they better treat their fellow man with respect or get what’s coming to them.

As they reach what must be the apotheosis of their new forms both men lose control at the same time. Awash in the heightened sensation of their new powerful selves and lost in love for each other stronger than they ever thought they’d achieve, Ant and Jonah stumble out from behind the barn.

Ant walking with a gait that can only mean one thing since they certainly weren’t horseback riding. The pair are jeered at by their fellow country queers and finally enjoy the party. It’s a joyous celebration of the first day of the rest of their lives surrounded by their fellow odd folk. When Jonah’s eyes fall back upon the truck he’s been driving for bout a decade now he can’t help but smile in contentment. She ain’t the prettiest wagon in the west, but she got him here. Surrounded by butches and bears alike Wade sits on a bench and pulls his man onto his lap, “Gonna be a good night Ant.” The pair crack open beers and drink in the new world around them, eager to see what their lives together have in store.

#male tf #mental change #muscle tf #hair growth #personality change #reality change #cowboy tf #musk tf #beard growth

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dirtyvulture · 10 months ago

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Envy and Venom - Part 2

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4911

AN: Didn't think I'd write this, but the opportunity was too good to let pass. :)

Click here for Part 1!

DAY 2

“I can’t believe you,” Tony says, watching as you anxiously like a caged animal. “I mean, I can, because Romanoff is smoking hot, but really? On your first day?”

“I didn’t know who she was!” you snap, your stomach churning in knots. You hadn’t been able to eat breakfast, even ignoring the hot black coffee your secretary Wanda had waiting for you like usual when you arrived to the office.

“Literally the daughter of the guy of our biggest rival,” Tony says, clearly only trying to make you feel worse than you already feel.

“I know who he is!” you bark, well familiar with Alexei Shostakov, the enormous, bearded and beer-bellied Russian who had once been on the board of directors at Envy Industries. Alexei was long gone from your dad’s company by the time you entered the scene, and at that point had formed Black Widow Corporation into a juggernaut. Word on the street was that Alexei used “unconventional methods” to stay ahead of competitors and now you wondered if you had fallen right into one of those traps.

“Why was Romanoff even at the party in the first place?” you ask.

“Why do you think?” Tony scoffs. “Daddy probably sent her to mess with you and no offense…but it worked.”

“We don’t know that,” you defend, although your gut is telling you that Tony is right.

“So, what did you tell her?” Tony asks, kicking his chair back to wobble on its hind legs.

“Nothing!” You sigh, your brain scrambling to remember your interaction with Natasha before you took her up to your suite. “Uh, I mean…I mentioned the contract we have with Tesla. But a bunch of other people probably overhead too, and that’s not exactly a secret anymore.”

“Mhmm, sure. Anything else?” Tony prompts.

“No. No, nothing else,” you say with an edge of uncertainty. “There wasn’t really much time for talking, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know you, you horndog.” He waves at you.

For once, you feel immensely guilty about not being able to control your behavior. This wouldn’t be the first time you had to face the consequences of the people you chose to take to bed with you, but none had been this jarring or dangerous. You feel used, even though you truly hadn’t revealed any company secrets to Natasha. Just the thought that she knew who you were, and wasn’t honest with you about herself, made your whole interaction with her feel slimy and fake. While you also knew it was ridiculous to think that you were in love with someone you just met, even you won’t deny there had been some kind of spark between you two, but perhaps it had all been manufactured.

You genuinely want to see Natasha again, hopefully in more honest circumstances, and not just purely for the physical pleasure of it. You knew she was one of the few women on Earth who truly understood your line of work. She didn’t need to pretend (or even study ahead) like some of the partners you had in the past. She was beautiful and smart and managed to turn you into a stuttering, whipped mess in less than ten minutes. No one else had ever been able to do that, and as humbling as it was, it was also hot as hell.

“What am I supposed to do now?” you ask, pulling at the suffocating collar of your shirt.

“First of all, don’t see her ever again,” Tony responds, and it sounds like he’s telling you you’re not allowed to breathe anymore.

“Fuck,” you grumble, because you know he’s right, but it won’t be that easy to just forget about Natasha.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Tony goes on. “You have a whole company to run now. Let the media say what they want, but promise me that you won’t be caught with that woman ever again.”

“Caught, you say?” you tease, knowing that he would always offer you a way out.

“I know you,” he repeats. “Besides, I heard she has a sister.”

You laugh, the tense mood lightening considerably. “Yeah, sure, I’ll put in a good word for you when I see her again.”

“You’re the best.” Tony stands up to give you a high-five.

***********************************************************************

Natasha hums to herself as she opens her laptop. She plugs in her headphones and boots up the application that is connected to the microphone she slipped into your jacket pocket. Over 12 hours of audio have already been recorded. Just out of curiosity, she scrolls to the first hour.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.”

Natasha feels her core light up with desire as she remembers the previous night with you. It had been a long time since she had been fucked so well and you certainly lived up to the hype. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember how your body had felt against hers, the way your muscles flexed in warning when you were about to finish but were waiting for her permission, the intoxicating taste that coated her tongue and had her (quite literally) demanding more and more from you.

“Hey, sestra.” Yelena walks in without knocking, and Natasha’s eyes snap open, tearing off her headphones and closing the audio application.

“What?” she growls, annoyed by the interruption.

Yelena smirks at her. “How was the party last night?”

“Good.”

Yelena doesn’t look convinced. “Did you see that TMZ article?”

“Anyone who relies on that hack as a legitimate source of information is just setting themselves up for disappointment.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Yelena states, walking up to Natasha and showing her her phone.

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff

Below the headline is a grainy photo of her almost sitting on your lap, both of your heads leaned close together.

“What’s your point?” Natasha asks, pushing Yelena’s phone away from her face.

“Did Dad approve of this?”

“What does his approval have to do with anything?” Natasha snaps. “I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want–”

“We’re not stupid, Natasha,” Yelena frowns. “And you aren’t either. You aren’t getting mixed up with just anyone, this is the CEO of Envy Industries–”

Natasha waves her hand. “Just stop, Yelena. I know what I’m doing, okay? And I’m the one who’s going to take over the company when Dad steps down, so I need to make sure that we are on top and stay that way.”

Yelena’s expression softens. “Just be careful, sestra. You don’t know what some of these people are capable of.”

“Like Y/N?” Natasha laughs. “She’s just a big rich idiot. I could steal her entire company right from under her nose and she’d just go fill her bed with Victoria’s Secret models and forget it by the next morning.”

“Please be careful, Nat,” Yelena begs. “Do not forget what happened last time–”

“That was in the past. I know better now,” Natasha dismisses, although the hair on the back of her neck rises at the memory. She had been too cocky, too arrogant, and nearly lost her life as a result. But she was certain that wouldn’t happen with you. She had you eating out of the palm of her hand even before the mind-blowing sex. You’d happily hand her the keys to Envy Industries if she promised you five minutes in bed.

“Don’t worry about me,” Natasha gruffs, turning back to her computer. “Close the door on your way out.”

Yelena doesn’t respond and backtracks. Natasha waits until she hears the click of her door to open the files on her flash drive that contains the data stolen from your systems. None of your files are even password-protected. Maybe your company was even more of a joke than she thought.

***********************************************************************

DAY 14

Tesla backs out of contract with Envy Industries, reportedly in talks with Black Widow Corporation for GPUs

DAY 15

Envy Industries (ENVY) stock drops 15%

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) stock up 10%

DAY 18

Tesla hires Black Widow Corporation to produce hardware for upcoming Model 2

DAY 24

Black Widow Corporation announces AI supercomputer project

DAY 30

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) joins the Magnificent Seven stocks, knocking Envy Industries (ENVY) out

“You need to fix this. Now.”

“I’m trying!” you practically sob, staring at the same headline on your computer that your father is looking at.

Your first 30 days as CEO had been an absolute whirlwind–of defeats. First, an intern at Tesla had called you to tell you the deal was off. And then to hear that they were taking up business with Black Widow Corporation was like a sucker punch to the gut. No one at your company could understand how Black Widow suddenly had the technology you’d been working on for months, but a nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you were the only person who knew the answer.

But you couldn’t be one-hundred-percent sure. After all, you had spent one night with Natasha Romanoff, most of it in bed with her getting your brains fucked out. But she had left even before you woke up, and there was no way to confirm if she had managed to get her hands on the confidential information that your company was built upon.

Whatever had happened, Envy Industries was on a steady decline ever since you had taken over and it was not a good feeling. The stock prices were tanking and now you had lost your spot amongst the prized “Magnificent Seven”–also known as the seven highest-valued companies in the United States. It was embarrassing, shameful, and upsetting. The board of directors were having daily meetings about your leadership qualities and you were worried they would boot you from the position any day now. Your father still had some influence, despite stepping down, but with the way he was speaking to you now, you weren’t sure he was going to defend you anymore.

“I don’t care how Black Widow Corp got the intel. They have it now and we can’t get it back. You need to raise security protocols and if anyone is caught leaking information, they will be publicly humiliated and sued to kingdom come,” your dad rages through the phone.

“Yes, yes, I agree,” you say.

“You need to focus on recovering from this. What’s done is done. But if you let it get worse, there will be severe consequences. For the company, for its future, and for you.”

“Yes. Yes, Dad,” you gulp.

“Stop fucking around and get your shit together,” he says. “You have a reputation that precedes you and thousands of people are depending on you to see them through this. Envy will come back. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you repeat hollowly, not even convinced of your own words.

“Good girl. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.” You hang up and put your phone face-down on your desk, staring once more at the headline. For the first time, you don’t feel sad, you feel angry. You want to lash out at something–someone. Preferably the person or persons who put you in this predicament. You didn’t deserve this. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to mope around and let them continue to take advantage of you.

There’s a heavy knock on your door.

“Hey, Y/N. Ready for lunch?” It’s Tony.

“Sure. Give me a minute.” You whip your burgundy blazer off the back of your chair with more force than necessary; it gets twisted upside-down and something falls out of the pocket. You squat to pick it up. It’s a black, small, flat circular device that blinks red and there’s tiny little ridges in the center to indicate some kind of microphone.

What the hell is this? you think. You look back at your burgundy jacket. It’s the same one you were wearing the day you were made CEO, the night you met Natasha Romanoff. It wasn’t your most worn jacket, making the occasional appearance if you felt it complimented the rest of your outfit, but spending most of its time hanging in the front of your closet.

A disturbing thought enters your head. This little device couldn’t be what you thought it was, right? But you knew tech better than most people. And you knew that Black Widow Corporation had somehow gotten ahold of confidential information that was causing catastrophic damage to your company.

It takes all of five seconds to formulate a plan.

You slip the audio recorder back into your pocket and put your jacket on.

Two could play at this game.

“Hey, Tony. Where are we going for lunch?” you call out, trying to keep your voice flat and clear.

“The steakhouse!” But his voice is muffled through the door.

“The steakhouse? The one on 6th Avenue, right?” you ask.

“Unless you suddenly have a new favorite that’s not on 6th,” he grumbles.

“Nope, that’s fine. Let me go check on something in the lab and I’ll be ready.”

***********************************************************************

“What’s wrong with you? Did they get your order wrong?” Tony asks as you poke at the slab of beef on your plate.

“I’m just not really hungry,” you say. “You know, since our whole company is falling apart and everything.”

“Well, it’s still standing the last time I checked.” You appreciate how straightforward Tony is. Granted, he isn’t under the same kind of pressure as you, but you need someone who can be this cool under pressure in your life. “And I know you can’t be productive on an empty stomach. Should we order those crab legs you like?”

“No more food please,” you mumble, pushing your plate away from you. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hurry back. Or I’ll order the whole appetizer menu!”

“Okay, whatever.” But you smile as you walk away from the table to the back. You look at your reflection in the gold gilded mirror, noticing the clear stress lines in your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the way your cheeks are more hollowed in because you aren’t eating your usual 4,000 calories a day.

You rinse your hands in the sink and pat water on your face. You hear the door open behind you and your heart starts pounding faster. Had your plan worked?

“What’s wrong, honey?” Her voice snaps you to attention, velvety and seductive just like how you remember hearing it the first time. You turn to see Natasha Romanoff leaned against the wall, wearing a white blouse ready to burst at its buttons along with black slacks and towering heels. Her hair loosely bounces on her shoulders and her exposed wrists and neck are adorned with more jewelry than you can count.

“You,” you growl, striding over to her in three big steps and glaring down at her. “Are we adding stalker charges to your growing list of crimes now?”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha tilts her head to the side dumbly. “I’m here for lunch, just like you. A coincidence isn’t a crime–”

You pull the little audio device out of your pocket. Natasha’s eyes widen for a second before she quickly turns her expression into one of defiance, but she’s already given away her familiarity. “So this is how you’ve been stealing all of our ideas, huh?” you ask.

“You have no proof that came from me,” she objects.

“I guess not.” You toss the device to the floor and stomp on it so hard with your Gucci loafers that it crumbles with an audible crunch. “And now we’ll never know. But now you’ll have to leave alone for a little bit, right? You have to give us some time to come up with more ideas for you to steal–”

“It’s nothing personal,” Natasha insists. “Business is business, isn’t it?”

“Well, once you put my reputation at risk–” You move one step closer until your chests almost bump. “–My future at risk–” You lower your head until you’re practically breathing on her face. Natasha doesn’t shy away. In fact, you think you see a glint of triumph in her green eyes. “–It becomes very, very personal.”

The tension between you is so thick it’s suffocating. You refuse to break eye contact with Natasha, but you’re not even sure what your next move should be. You know that you should hate this woman, should be calling for her head and outing her to the media for the literal crimes she’s committed, but you also want her. She hadn’t left your mind since the day you met her and knowing that she had been spying on you this whole time was both infuriating and a little arousing.

Natasha suddenly grabs onto the front of your shirt, yanking you closer to her until your lips crash together. You hate that the contact makes you feel relief, and you wonder if part of your recent frustration can be attributed to the fact that all this time you were secretly yearning for the same woman who was responsible for ruining your life.

“Things between us are very, very personal,” Natasha whispers, her hands slipping under your shirt to scratch across your abdomen. The coldness of her skin makes you want to cringe away, but her fingers hook onto your belt to keep you from going too far.

“Did you get jealous listening to all the girls I was fucking?” you ask.

“No,” Natasha says, but her cheeks redden and you know she’s lying. “But none of them could make you moan the way I do.”

“I wished they were you,” you admit, panting against her forehead as she undoes your belt. “Which is a fucked up thing to say given what you’ve been doing to my company.”

“I’m very good at what I do, baby,” Natasha says, pressing another hot kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll make your life hell if you don’t stop fucking with my company,” you growl, but your threat is significantly undermined by the whimper you let out when her fingers trace down the V-line of your hips to your center.

“Would you rather I fuck you over your company?” she asks.

“Shit,” you gasp, unable to focus on her question when two fingers slip into you. You’re embarrassingly soaked for her, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had wet dreams of letting Natasha Romanoff fuck you ever since your first encounter. You fall back against the wall, panting as she pistons her fingers in and out of you. “Someone might walk in,” you warn, suddenly reminded about the forbiddenness of this relationship.

“I locked the door,” Natasha says, using her free hand to tug down the collar of your shirt so she can lick and kiss the skin of your neck. You bite on your lip to muffle your moan, your hands going to hold her hips roughly, pulling her closer to you. Her fingers curl and her thumb presses hard into your clit. You feel yourself clench tightly around her and your knees are ready to buckle. “For the record, I did miss you too.”

“What took you so long?” You have no idea how you’re able to hold a conversation with Natasha Romanoff while she fucks you, but here you are. Your hands wander towards her ass, cupping her solidly and almost lifting her off the floor.

“I had to wait,” she answers simply, her thumb flicking against your clit and your stomach burns with the stimulation. The slick noises of her fingers sliding into you is downright filthy and you rock your hips forward to urge her to move faster.

“What did you…have to wait…for?” you pant. “Your stocks to…overtake…mine?”

“Sure, baby,” Natasha says, nibbling at your collarbone and marking you with a dark hickey. You still have enough consciousness to notice the way she dodges your question. “You want to cum for me?” she asks, pistoning her hand faster.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, already on the verge of finishing. You adjust the angle of your hips so she can reach deeper, her fingers brushing past the sensitive ridges that make you see stars with every touch.

“Wait until I say,” she demands and you whine at her dominance. But you’re in no position to negotiate, so you keep your back pressed against the wall, desperately fighting the tidal wave of arousal threatening to crash down.

“Nat,” you say, your fingers digging hard into her ass, “Please let me–”

“Wait,” she repeats, sounding both annoyed and aroused. She pumps into you harder and faster, until you’re quivering and don’t think you can physically hold back anymore–

“Babe–”

“Cum for me.”

You feel like your body is tearing apart as you explode over her hand, arching your back off the wall, pressing your heaving chest into Natasha’s, heart pounding like you’ve just sprinted through a marathon. Natasha’s thrusts slow as you ride out your orgasm, and as you slump against the wall, she pulls her fingers out and, sticking them into her mouth to suck off your juices. You watch her hungrily, still dizzy from the rush of endorphins.

“My turn,” you say, hooking your arms under her thighs and her arms loop around your neck. You pick her up effortlessly and shuffle with her into the handicapped stall. This time, Natasha’s back is pinned to the wall as you crash your lips into hers, reigniting the heat between your legs. But you’ve already got your release and you are more than eager to return the favor.

You pull down her pants and panties, mouth watering at the sight of her glistening center. You crouch down to pick her up again, this time letting her thighs rest on your shoulders so when you stand up, her pussy is perfectly in line with your mouth. Natasha’s hands tangle tightly in your hair as she draws your head towards her center, her calves locking across the back of your neck.

Without needing any more prompting, you pull forward to taste her. Her moans are music to your ears as you lap at her dripping heat, your tongue pressing deeper in search of more. All you can smell is her, all you can taste is her, and all you can think about is her. Natasha is sinful heaven to you and for a few seconds, you let yourself completely forget about how she’s ruining your life.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door.

“Hello? Why is this locked?” someone’s voice on the other side says.

You reach up with your right hand and cover Natasha’s mouth. She bites into the side of your hand and you hiss at the pain.

“Go get one of the staff.”

“You better finish soon,” you hum, nipping at the insides of her thighs while she squirms on your shoulders. “Or the whole world is going to hear me eating you out in here.”

“They should,” Natasha pants, gripping almost painfully at the back of your head, trying to force you back between her legs. “They need to know that you’re all mine, baby.”

You want to tell her that you don’t belong to anyone, and certainly not her of all people, but the protests die in your throat as she squeezes her thighs around your head. You truly are some kind of servant to Natasha Romanoff. Your tongue runs up and down her slit, poking at her throbbing clit as she bucks forward against your face.

“Fuck, take me already,” she whines.

“So impatient,” you tease.

“Less talking, more fucking,” she demands.

“Same to you.” You shove your fingers into her mouth to quiet her, and she sucks on them in a way that you try to mirror against her pussy. Wrapping your lips around her clit and thrusting your tongue into her until she’s a puddle in your arms.

“...I don’t know why the door is locked. Let me speak to the manager to get the key.”

Natasha’s whimpers are muted so you have to gauge her reaction by the rest of her body. The way she grips onto your hair like it’s some kind of lifeline. Her walls milk your tongue desperately, slick spilling onto your chin. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to get enough of this woman.

The door clicks open just as Natasha finally comes undone. Your fingers muffle her moans as you quickly lick her clean, wishing you had time to bring her to a second orgasm, but the heels on the floor indicate the two of you are no longer alone. You slowly lower Natasha to the floor, suddenly feeling the burn in your shoulders as you finally relieve yourself of her weight.

“Call me next time you want to fuck someone,” Natasha pulls you in for one final kiss and slips something into your pocket. It’s her business card.

“We’ll see,” you say, still not exactly sure of this arrangement, but not having the time to hang around and discuss. You leave the stall first, washing off at the sink and slinking out.

***********************************************************************

Natasha waits until you’ve left the bathroom to adjust herself in the mirror. She reapplies another layer of lipstick, smoothing down her blouse and tucking it back into her pants. She struts out of the restaurant, her body tingling in the aftermath of her sexcapade in the bathroom with you.

She steps into the alley adjacent to the restaurant and stands by the overflowing dumpster. She takes your wallet out of her pocket, unfolding it and laughing at the photo on your driver’s license. It was almost disappointing how easy you were. You weren’t cut out to lead a powerful company like Envy Industries. While you might have had the intellect, you clearly could not handle confrontation and even the idea of failure.

Natasha almost feels bad for you, but not bad enough to stop.

She empties the cash from your wallet, the several crisp hundred dollar bills fluttering to the ground. Maybe they’ll make some lucky homeless person’s day. Natasha pockets your heavy metal credit cards, despite having no intention but to use them as paperweights for her office. Then she finds what she’s really after: the solid black card that’s your apartment key.

Natasha discards your wallet into the dumpster and walks out to the street to be picked up by her driver.

***********************************************************************

You return to the table, smoothing back your hair and pulling at the newly-formed wrinkles in your shirt. You barely remember to button your shirt back up to your throat to hide the collar of hickeys Natasha left to remember her by.

“You were in there a while,” Tony comments. “You need some Pepto?”

“No, I’m fine.” You sit down, staring at your cold steak while you think. “Can we go now? I have some stuff I need to do.”

“Sure, sure.” Tony calls for the waitress and the check. You slip your phone out to view the location of the tracking device you (literally) implanted into Natasha.

It was a tiny, tiny device, probably about the size of a grain of rice. You could barely feel its weight when you have it balanced on the tip of your finger.

“This GPS will provide an accurate location down to a meter,” Dr. Pym explains. “Designed and manufactured right here at Envy Industries, so you can rest assured this is the highest quality product you’ll find on the market.”

“Don’t mention this to my dad, will you?” you request, placing the little tracker back in its foam-padded case.

“Of course,” Dr. Pym says. “I answer to you and only you now.”

“Good.”

You weren’t a hundred-percent sure how successful you’d be, but you had tried your best to hold the GPS on your fingertip before sticking your fingers in Natasha’s mouth. Her natural reaction would be to suck and swallow, and you were hoping that the rice-sized GPS would easily find its way down her esophagus into her.

There was no way she would know about it (or even be able to taste it) in the heat of the moment, and after a few days, it would pass through and the evidence wouldn’t be in her system anymore. You didn’t need more than a few days to track her location and habits.

With a sigh of relief, you see the red dot on the map indicating that she’s still waiting by the street side of the restaurant, probably for her driver. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, wondering what Natasha would say when she realizes you’re willing to play just as dirty as her.

The waitress boxes up your steak and hands it to you in a paper bag. You and Tony leave through the back entrance to the cramped parking lot and you wait until you’ve climbed into his Aston Martin to say, “Are you still in touch with that…uh…Buck guy?”

Tony is quiet for a moment. “Oh, you mean Bucky? Yeah, I see him from time to time. Why?”

You’ve never made a request like this before in your life, and you know the moment you do, it’s going to change everything. You take a deep breath, fighting the anxiety in your chest.

“I need him to get me a gun.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Click here for Part 3!

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#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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yellowjestertfs · 2 months ago

Text

Altered State: Part Two

This is the next part of the saga. Part One is available to read here. Part Three should be posted in a week. I love reading the comments so feel free to post any feedback or predictions.

Leon felt as if his flesh was melting. Furiously he scrolled through his notifications trying to determine the source of the intense pain wracking his body.

There was the normal notification about stats that Leon expected at this point.

“You have reached level five. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma, +0.3 Intelligence.”

Leon imagined if he wasn’t in so much pain he would feel the typical shifts in his body as his strength increased.

There was another notification, a new one although not one that explained the pain either.

“Juggernaut is an embodied class, as such at level five you gain a class ability.”

“Inner strength: At will, once every 115 seconds you can tap into your inner strength to gain a brief burst of, power, reflex, and athletic ability. Note: the cooldown of the ability equals 120 minus class level. Note: the potency of this ability scales with strength.”

The ability seemed amazing though Leon hardly had the mental facilities to think about the potential, or what exactly a embodied class was. Finally, the last notification explained the source of the all-consuming ache in his body.

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Metabolizer: your metabolisms is heightened to superhuman levels. Calories will no longer be stored as fat but instead burned for super-kinetic energy.”

Tentatively Leon lifted his shirt. His mouth dropped open as he physically saw the flab on his stomach move and shift, slowly shrinking to reveal his abs. His body was eating its own fat stores like a yeast colony to sugar. His arms, his neck, his butt, he felt every part of his body acutely as the fat he had carried for so long was stripped away.

He pulled up his stats screen and watched his weight number slowly fall, past the 200-pound mark, past 190, then 180, then 170 until Leon’s weight came to rest at a puny 160 pounds, all in a matter of minutes.

Leon sat there dazed not sure what to feel about the rapid reformation of his body. Once the pain was gone he tentatively left the stall and approached the mirror above the sink. He had to do a double-take to make sure it was really him. He looked different, gaunt, like a bean pole. Veins were visible on his forearms, and the small abs and pecs he had built from his five levels of strength stood in stark relief on his fat-free torso. He flexed his arm and watched the bicep rise. He looked sort of like Cal, like he could be a runner or a skinny swimmer. The only indications that he had never been fat were the stretch marks and loose skin that dangled from various parts of his body.

Leon brought his face close to the mirror to examine it fully. It was amazing how much fat obscured his features. Without it his face seemed solid, almost handsome, his jaw had a somewhat square cast to it, and his cheekbones were arched and pronounced. He wondered if the four points added to his charisma could have anything to do with the altered appearance of his face as well.

Leon let himself smile and admired the deep dimples that formed. Let Hunter try to call him a fatty now that his body fat percentage was probably lower than that frat douchbag’s.

Ding

For a moment Leon looked around for the notification on his display, and then he realized the sound had come from a text on his phone.

“DID YOU TOUCH MY FUCKING PLAYDIA?” Avlis texted Edward and Leon in their roommate text threat.

“Get a life looser” Leon texted back. He imagined Alvis’ face when he saw the hunk Leon was becoming. That red-faced creep was going to explode.

A second later Edward texted back “No need to get upset. We can discuss it tonight.” Leon found the response strangely diplomatic for his famously awkward friend. He wondered how Edward was doing if he was undergoing as rapid changes as Leon was. Thinking of his friend made him think of their contest and how little he wanted to lose. He turned his mind back to the new quests that had appeared with the next level, feeling fresh and energized thanks to his high metabolism and animal endurance.

“Run a mile.”

The task proved easier than he thought. As a fat kid, the mile had been hell on earth for Leon, he regularly finished last with times in the late teen early twenty-minute mark. Without the fat and with his added strength, however, Leon felt like he was running on air. Without pushing himself he ran the mile on the attached track in 7:00 minutes and hardly even felt winded in the end. On his last lap, Leon tried activating his new ability “inner strength”. All he had to do was think about it and suddenly the ability activated. All at once his body was flushed with strength. His steps became powerful bounds and he flew through the air at outrageous speeds for a moment before the ability ended and Leon not so gracefully stumbled back to his regular pace. A timer of 115 seconds appeared in the corner of his vision, counting down the seconds until he could use the ability again.

The completion of the quest got Leon a little over a fourth of the way to level six.

“Play a sport with others”

Was the next quest he selected to do. Leon wondered around his school's massive gymnasium looking for a pick-up basketball game he could join or a tennis player looking for a doubles partner. Instead, as he looked out the window at the grassy field below he saw a different sort of athletic endeavor.

Students wielding foam swords, shields, axes, and even bows charged at each other. As Leon left the health center and approached he could hear war cries and calls of who was out from various participants. It ended within a minute as a girl with short hair blocked a sword thrust from her opponent with her shield and then slashed at his legs with her own foam weapon. A winner was declared and the participants helped each other to their feet from where they had “died” and rearmed themselves to go again.

The girl who had won saw Leon watching and approached. “Want to join” she asked somewhat skeptically. While his height and build made him look like a jock his Superman shirt seemed to communicate that Leon was one of them. In truth, Leon would normally scoff at the idea of role-playing, especially in such a public area, but his new penchant for athletics plus his need to complete the quest made him amicable to her offer.

The girl who introduced herself as Ruth and the sport as Dagorhir. She showed him the various foam weapons that he could choose from, though Leon ended up sticking with the same foam sword and shield she used. She told him because he was new he would be on her team and that he should stick with her and just try to stay alive.

He did what she said at first, staying back and only blocking with his shield when a stray attacker came at him. He was amazed by how quickly he could move, how fast his reflexes were becoming. He blocked another thrust then retaliated with his sword down onto the guy's back, reveling in the way his perfect form perk allowed him to effortlessly perform the precise motions. Behind him, Ruth went down to a foam-tipped arrow shot by an archer who Leon sprinted over to and tagged with a thrust, killing him. Leon was surprised to find he was the only one left from his team facing down two attackers, one wielding two swords with the other a ball of spiky foam tied to a rope he swung about to attack.

Leon knew he had only one chance to win. Activating his inner strength ability he flew through the air, feet clearing the low sweep of his opponent's flail. As he came back down, he brought his sword down hard onto the other opponent who blocked with both his swords. They cracked like twigs under the force of his slam.

Even Leon was surprised by his own strength. He felt instantly grateful the guy had blocked his attack, or else it may have been his arms instead of his swords that broke like glass. While both his opponents were stunned by Leon's maneuver Leon swept low with his sword taking both out and winning the game. His team rushed around him all shouting his praise.

“How the fuck did you do that,” Ruth asked amazed! The feeling of admiration, of victory on the basis of his athletic ability was so foreign to Leon that he wasn’t sure what to do, especially when they started chanting his name. Leon glanced to see his progress bar was almost full thanks to the physical exertion of the activity and the completion of the quest.

“Play again,” Ruth asked.

“Maybe later, I really have to go, but I had fun,” Leon said smiling. He wasn’t lying, despite his misgivings about the lameness of the sport he really had enjoyed it. He gave her his number and she promised to update him on when the club met.

Leon felt on top of the world especially because his next quest to “consume an exercise supplement” would be a piece of cake. He jogged back to the athletic center, using his inner strength ability whenever it came off cooldown to increase his pace and to try to get used to the burst of supernatural athleticism it gave him. He really needed to understand the limits of his ability before someone got hurt.

As soon as Leon entered the gym he felt a wave of comfort wash over him, a sense of belonging. He walked confidently into the small store attached to the gym and perused the various protein supplements, pre-workout powders, and energy drinks.

“Need help finding anything” The young athlete behind the counter asked.

“Just something for the gains” Leon joked, though with his new body the joke was lost on the cashier who thought he was serious. Leon supposed he sort of was. The cashier pointed out a few pre and post-workout supplements to Leon and feeling reckless Leon bought them all along with a water bottle.

Leon realized he hadn’t drank water or eaten anything in hours yet he didn't feel hungry or thirsty. He wasn’t sure if that was a perk of his Animal Endurance or had something to do with the “super kinetic energy” he now supposedly burned his fat into. Either way, he supposed it would still would be good for him to get some protein and liquids into his system. He scooped the proper amount of each supplement into the bottle before shaking it well.

“Ding”

Leon reached level six right as he finished the bottle. He let out a sigh and felt his body expand.

“You have reached level six. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.”

Leon felt the familiar telltale signs of the boost to his strength, his muscles swelled, his pecs became more pronounced, thighs beefed up. The network of veins on his skinny forearms became even more pronounced and the loose skin from his rapid weight gain refilled now with muscle instead of fat, becoming less noticeable as Leon’s body became more buff.

This level-up felt different from the others though. Leon felt himself continue to grow, his shoulders widening even more, and his arms bulging. He wondered at the reason until he saw his latest perk.

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Rapid Returns: The effects of any workout or body-enhancing substance are applied immediately, and to the fullest.”

This had to be one of the best perks yet. No more would he have to wait weeks to see gains, instead he would experience them instantly. The added growth he reasoned was the retroactive payments of the exercise he had already completed that day plus the supplements he had just drank.

Leon wasn’t one for patience so he was more than glad for the instant gratification, plus with his perfect form perk, he could be sure that any exercise he did would be rewarded fully and instantly.

Three more quests appeared.

Leon's smile disappeared, replaced by a scoff when he saw what they were. These had to be jokes, no way in hell was he going to be caught dead doing something like that. Who the fuck did this game think he was?

Edward let out a cry of pain as he stumbled back, face and body on fire. Thankfully the golden lines that had materialized around quickly faded but his yelp still caught the attention of a few groups of students who all looked in his direction with concern. “Hey, you ok” a guy asked getting up from the grass to walk towards him.

Edward put both hands over his face, which felt as if it was being ripped apart, and backed away from the approaching student.

“I’m fine” he managed through the pain. He brushed past the guy, body hunched forward unable to stand straight. The students looked at each other confused but let him pass. Edward stumbled blindly into an ally between two buildings that were normally filled with smoking students but was thankfully empty.

Edward sunk down to the ground wrapping his arms around his knees tightly as the pain continued. It felt as if his bones were made of clay that some invisible, and not too gentle, hand was sculpting. After a minute the pain began to lessen and Edward could think again. He couldn’t tell exactly what had happened but he suspected the answer lay somewhere in the notifications he had just received.

“You have reached level five. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Golden Ratio: You are a dream of any Renaissance artist. Along with being perfectly symmetrical your face and body ascribe exactly to the golden ratio. You are now 1.618 down to your DNA.”

The Golden Ratio perk explained the pain. Edward recognized the phrase from the art history class he had taken freshman year. It had something to do with proportions and beauty. He got out his phone to look it up but stopped when he saw his reflection on the darkened screen. He sat there staring at his reflection, startled every time that it blinked when he did.

Beauty wasn’t an objective thing, Edward knew that. But he had been ugly, the type of ugly only a mother could love, and even she is on the fence about. It wasn’t just his bad skin, or thin hair, or beady eyes, or misshapen nose, though none of those helped, it was in the fundamental construction of his features. Unsymmetrical ill-proportioned, and downright unpleasant to look at. Now that had all changed.

Edward wouldn’t call his reflection sexy or hot, rather he was more striking. His face was masculine but not overly so. His features all looked as if they were pieces in part of the same puzzle, each perfectly proportioned and symmetrical, fitting on his face as if they were sculpted by the hand of an angle or the brain of an artistic AI. His eyes were flawlessly spaced, in exact harmony with his forehead. His lips sat perfectly under his nose which had been resized and reshaped to the exact dimensions to flatter his face. His entire head had taken on a different shape, elongating and narrowing and contouring. He was in a word beautiful.

Under his sweater, Edward could see his body had shifted as well. He hadn’t gained or lost mass but rather his proportions had changed, shoulder broadening, waste slimming, hands and feet growing bigger. Edward couldn’t check in public but he also had felt some pain in his groin. He was pretty sure his dick and balls had been growing a bit with every level but he suspected the latest perk had done made some big shifts to the region. In someone as insecure and unattractive as Edward having a small penis had only been the cherry on top of his ugly sundae. Edward had assumed no one would ever see under his pants and he had spent much more time wishing for a pretty face or clear skin then a big dick. Now however it seemed plausible almost even likely Edward would get laid eventually and he was glad he was gaining a proper dick to do it with. It all felt so exhilarating and made Edward not a small bit horny.

Edward finally composed himself enough to do some rudimentary research on the golden ratio he was now supposedly modeled off. As the perk suggested the golden ratio was all about 1.618. It seemed this was a number that appeared in nearly all beautiful things in nature and was used by artists in their work, especially in the Renaissance, to replicate the scale of that natural beauty that is so pleasing to the human eye. According to the articles Edward quickly skimmed those faces deemed most attractive were in proportion with this ratio. There was a complex set of formulas involved, face height should be 1.618 times longer than width, brows should be 1.618 longer then the distance between the eyes, etc. Edward didn't have a ruler but he bet if he measured if face it would be in line with that down to the millimeter.

Despite the radical change his features were still his own, only shifted and resized. The pig-like upward slant of his nose had been somewhat corrected by the previous bumps to charisma but it was still noticeable, same with his chin which still had a ways to go before it became anything resembling desirable. Still, the changes were radical, to the point that Edward had a hard time recognizing himself. He wondered if Leon would recognize him, and how in the hell he was going to explain this to his family.

Edward was so distracted by the latest perk that he didn’t even fully read the other notifications that had come with level five.

“The Snake Charmer class is a conduit class. As such at level five you gain access to energy points. These can be used in various techniques. Your pool of energy points is equal to your intelligence. The rate of regeneration is tied primarily to your charisma but also scales to a lesser degree on intelligence.”

“At level five the Snake Charmer class gains a technique”

“Silver Tongue: Your innate charm allows you to channel energy into your words, imbuing them with power that can bend all who hear them to your will. Note: This ability costs five energy per word. Note: the maximum number of words that can be imbued increases by one every ten points of charisma: current max 2. Note: This technique may be less effective or wholly resisted by targets with higher charisma. Note: This ability is considered a charm and therefor can be resisted or negated by items, consumables, aura, technique or abilities with anti-charm properties. Note: The duration of this technique may differ based on the degree of differences in the charisma score of the caster and the target. Note: This technique is 92.22% more effective on people with a penis.”

Edward blinked at the wall of text before him. Edward wasn’t dumb, he had an intelligence of 13 and a 4.0 GPA but he was really struggling to deciphering the massive amount of information the game had just given him. He decided to take it part by part.

First, there were the energy points. Those he was able to deduce were like mana points in an RPG game, the resource he used to cast spells, or in Altered State’s case techniques. Edward focused on the note about the regeneration and a formula popped up going into more detail.

“Regeneration per hour = # EP (Energy points) * (Charisma * 0.01)”

His current energy point pool, now indicated by a new full yellow bar on the right side of his vision, was 13. His charisma also coincidentally was also 13 at level five although with the gains he got each level he knew it would quickly out-scale his intelligence. At his current level his rate of regeneration was 1.69 energy points per hour, pretty abysmal. That meant it would take him more than seven hours to regain all his energy.

Edward flipped to the calculator app on his phone. He felt like Alvis doing math for a video game but he also knew it was important to understand this new system. At level 10 when his intelligence would be 18 and his charisma 28 his rate of regeneration would be 5.04 per hour and when he reached level 20 and had a pool of 28 energy points his rate of regeneration would be 16.24 energy points per hour which felt much more reasonable. By level 34 he would be capable of regretting all his energy at that level within an hour.

Edward started to understand what exactly the game had in store for him. Intelligence-focused classes were meant to be mages, the type with a large energy pool but slow regeneration. He would be the opposite, lacking a large resource bank but able to recover his expended energy much faster and get back to doing. It matched exactly the way Edward liked to play video games which was somewhat concerning.

As for the technique Edward had unlocked, he was unsure exactly what to make of it. Silver Tongue seemed extremely powerful, almost overly so. There were however that list of notes at the end providing a caveat to the power. First off it seemed that the ability wouldn’t be very useful on those with higher charisma then his own and that there were additionally a host of other game provided way to protect one’s self from charm techniques. Edward didn't really think he would have to worry about that though, as far as he knew he and Leon were the only ones with access to the game and he had no intention of using his ability against his best friend. Still he thought having checks to an technique like his was ultimately a good thing. Edward could think of far too many ways “bending someone to your will” could be used for ill. It also had that stipulation of being much more effective on men like most of Edwards other rewards which he found perplexing.

Edward decided he wouldn’t use this new power unless it was really necessary, which his two new quests seemed unlikely.

“Get new clothes” and “Get a haircut” seemed like some not-so-subtle hints that Altered State thought it was time for him to have a makeover. Edward’s appearance had already changed so much, he was trepidatious about changing himself further. Still, the latest batch of rewards he received for leveling up were the best ones yet. Edward would be lying if the intoxication of power wasn’t driving him forward, that and the bet he still had with Leon.

Normally Edward would just go to the budget haircut place in town, no need to spend a lot of money when his appearance was already unsalvageable. Now though Edward didn't feel so lackadaisical about his looks. There was a real nice barber shop he knew only a few blocks from campus which he decided to go to.

Edward left the ally and walked across the green out of campus. As he went Edward was amazed by all the looks he got. Not the looks of pity or disgust he was used to. Instead, people smiled and waved at him as if they knew him. It was bizarre in the extreme. A group of girls walking by whispered something to each other and giggled as they passed, and a tall handsome guy gave him a wink. At first, the attention bothered Edward but as he walked he gained confidence. He stood straight, puffed out his still slim chest, and smiled back at the people he passed. Both the more confident walk and the friendly expression on his face felt right on the new construction of his body.

“One haircut please,” Edward said as he entered the barber shop. It was an awkward line but his high charisma, People Person perk, and Social Sync perk all saved him from being turned away.

The barber, a tallish middle-aged guy with a slight Italian accent and a short beard greeted him like an old friend. “What can I get ya today.” He asked as he sprayed Edward's curls down with water.

Somewhere along the way, Edward’s stringy dirty blond hair had become a thick golden mane with a slight wave in it, a far cry from the straight thin straw his hair had been before.

“I don’t know Alexi, what do you think would look good?” Edward asked reading the man's name off his name tag. Through his Sage perk he could feel that the barbers had a genuine love for his craft and that his goal was to make Edward look as good as possible.

The barber clucked his tongue examining Edward's face and running a comb through his damp hair which instantly sprung back into place. “You have such beautiful hair, it feels like such a shame to cut it off. How about I just shape it up so you can show off that handsome face of yours.”

Edward blushed but gave his approval. He watched memorized as Alexi slowly removed the hair from around his newly sized down ears and forehead. Staring in the mirror Edward couldn’t believe the adonis staring back was himself.

He was snapped out of his revelry by the ding. For a second he thought he had leveled up again but it turned out to just be his phone.

“DID YOU TOUCH MY FUCKING PLAYDIA?” Avlis had texted him and Leon in their roommate group chat in obnoxious all caps.

A few seconds later Leon responded with his typical brashness: “Get a life looser”.

Edward sighed and typed out a diplomatic response, “No need to get upset. We can discuss it tonight” he sent. He would try to calm Alvis down in person but if their creepy roommate got really upset Edward could always use him as the first test subject for his new technique.

Edward and Alexi made small talk as he the haircut, Edward was amazed at how easily the conversation flowed, and how at ease he felt talking to a stranger. When it came time to pay he suspected Alexi gave him a substantial discount. Edward reviled his first experience of pretty privilege. At the same time, he felt kind of bad, like he had scammed the guy just by nature of being charming. Edward left a large tip and thanked him profusely promising to recommend all his friends, as if he had any other than Leon.

With the first of two quests completed and the progress bar to level six halfway full Edward made his way to the mall a few blocks away, his new haircut only intensified the stares he got.

Normally Edward wasn’t confident enough to wear anything other than the most basic of clothes, neutral colors, and a size too big. Now however Edward felt empowered. He walked into the most trendy shop in the mall and was instantly beset by an eager saleswoman. Within minutes she had picked out for Edward more clothes than he could carry before escorting him to a dressing room. His sage perk, which was significantly weaker on her than on Alexi, let him know she worked on commission and that she suspected he was a rich pretty boy willing to spend.

Edward locked the door and tried on the first item of clothing, a red and brown sweater vest that was a bit too big. As soon as Edward put the vest on he heard a ding and reached level six. It really was strange how lenient the game was with some quests and how strict it was with others.

To Edward’s relief, none of the level six features caused excruciating pain this time, although he did feel a slight discomfort as the usual three points of charisma altered his face further, skin smoothing, features adjusting, Adam’s apple bulging slightly as his voice grew a bit deeper and smoother. His newly cut hair on his head along with the little body hair he had grew even more silky and soft and golden blond. Plus Edward was sure he could feel his penis grow as well, only about a sixth of an inch but still noticeable and exhilarating.

“You have reached level six. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Gold Star Killer: Your charm is strong enough to go ignore biological and social boundaries. Anyone with a penis will now be equally likely to find you attractive no matter their usual sexual orientation.”

Edward gasped slightly when he saw the perk. He knew it was a dream of a lot of gay guys to have sex with straight guys, and he would be lying if he said the fantasy wasn’t there for him as well, but he found the idea of bending sexualities concerning. He currently wouldn’t want to be made attracted to a woman. Plus he hoped there was some sort of exemption he could make for his friends and family. He laughed to himself at the idea of boob-loving Leon suddenly having eyes for his dick.

Edward sifted through the rest of the clothes. Most were either too expensive or too gaudy to be considered, but in the pile, Edward found a fair number of shirts and pants he might actually wear. With his now 16 charisma every piece of clothing just seemed to fit right on him, like he could wear a garbage bag and still walk the red carpet, he really just was that damn pretty.

Edward had just tried on a thick wool-striped short-sleeved shirt when he heard a noise from outside. “What's the point in wearing that if I can’t see your tits,” a loud obnoxious male voice said. Out of curiosity Edward stuck his head out of the changing room and saw two people arguing in front of the mirror a few feet down the hallway.

“You sound like a douchebag when you say things like that Hunter,” a blond woman said as she adjusted a floral long-sleeve blouse on her athletic frame.

The man who Edward presumed to be Hunter scoffed. “Cassy you look like a lesbo librarian. Can’t we go to Victoria's Secret or something?”

“You're being a jerk. Is this just because you think I was flirting with that guy at the gym? How many times do I have to tell you he's just in one of my classes.”

“I don’t give a shit about that fattie,” Hunter said in a way that made it obvious he very much did, “I just don’t want people thinking your even more of a skank than they already do.”

The blond woman reeled back. Despite the distance and not having a penis Cassy strong emotion triggered Edward’s Sage skill and he instantly knew that her foremost desire at that moment was to hit the Hunter in the face. She opened her mouth to tell him off but Edward beat her to it. Stepping out of the dressing room he instinctively activated his Silver Tongue ability. “Hey man be nice,” he said, the last two words coming out in a much louder and deeper voice that echoed through the hallway, as if a proclamation from god.

Hunter froze in place for a moment then his face contorted into an unnaturally friendly expression and in a forced cheery voice he said “I’m sorry for saying that Cassie. No one thinks that you are a skank. You are a very beautiful intelligent women who I am often intimidated by, and who I take out my insecurities on.”

Cassie looked around as if looking for the hidden cameras to emerge and tell her this was a prank. Hunter turned towards Edward. “I must say you are very attractive. I would normally never admit this but I really want to have sex with you.” Even through the compulsion of Edward's technique, it was obvious that Hunter was horrified by what he was saying, although with his Gold Star Killer perk it was also likely true.

Hunter turned back to Cassie “Let me buy you these clothes to make up for my rude comments, then I want to finally hear about that book you have been reading.” He proceeded to gather all of Cassie’s clothing in his arms and walk to the checkout counter, his girlfriend wordlessly following behind him, too shocked to speak.

Edward looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed the effect of his ability but the dressing room was empty. Awkwardly he made his way back to his room to try on the rest of the clothes, still amazed by the power of his new technique. He wondered how long the effect would last on that jerk. It would probably be too much to wish it would be permanent, but he hoped for Cassie’s sake it was long enough for him to buy her clothes. He also noticed Cassie seemed not to be affected by his words. He wasn’t sure if that was because she didn't have a penis or if it was because he intended his words only for Hunter.

Edward glanced at his energy bar. The yellow bar was a little less then a third of the way full, Edward just having spent 10 energy, 5 on each word. It would be a few hours till he could regenerate all the expended points again, though Edward didn't regret it. Especially when he noticed the level progress bar which was right under the energy bar was already halfway to level seven. Edward realized that he had inadvertently just completed one of his new quests without realizing it, “resolve an altercation with only your words” was now marked as complete. His other assigned quest “post on social media” seemed like it could be equally as easy to complete.

Edward put on his favorite of the newest clothes, a white sweater and a pair of blue jeans, and pulled up the latest trending song. Then he set up his phone on the fitting room bench and started filming. Edward didn't do much, he moved his hips slightly, ran his fingers through his hair, and even bit his lip at one point. Watching it back Edward looked like a total fuck boy, but damn was he pretty. He posted the video publicly, and though he didn’t have any followers except for Leon and his mom he was pretty confident the video would get some views.

Sure enough, Edward heard two simultaneous dings as he both leveled up and received his first like on the video.

“You have reached level seven. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Social gravity: Your charisma is like a magnet. You emit an aura that makes attracting attention to yourself effortless and becoming the center of attention nearly inevitable. Note: This effect is 92.22% more effective on people with a penis. Note: This is an aura effect. Individuals can only be effected by one charisma based aura at a time. Your aura may overcome other charisma-based aura in its range if your charisma is higher, or be suppressed by another aura if the less charismatic of the two. Note: you will receive upgrades to this aura ability at levels 14, 21, 29, etc.”

Edward had mixed feelings about this latest perk. As someone ignored and shunned all his life Edward felt the draw to the spotlight, to finally being seen by his peers. Still, there was something nice about anonymity, about being an invisible face in the crowd. If he was reading this perk right his days of nameless NPC were over, main character only from here on out. Plus there was that thing about blocking other auras. This was the second indication that he might be encountering other people with classes and abilities like his own. Edward supposed there could be others out there, Leon had been rather vague about who had given him the game and upon reflection is seemed rather obvious that “buff guy” must have also had a class. Edward thought about that disk still sitting in Alvis’ machine. Once he reached level ten he and Leon would have to lock up that disk in a safe, or maybe destroy it, anything to keep the likes of Hunter from getting their hands on that type of power.

Edward left the changing room, still wearing the favorite of his new clothes, and paid for the half dozen items clothing items he had decided on. These were unfortunately not discounted like his haircut though Edward had some money from his birthday saved up.

Edward’s next quest seemed deceptively easy. “Attend a party” was the only item listed in his quest menu. The rave Trent and Tag were going to tonight might count but that wasn’t for another few hours and Edward wanted to give the two some space. Even though classes were out for the day Edward knew it was likely too early for any parties to be happening in the dorms or in any of the houses on fratrow.

Edward decided to wonder around the mall. If he had gotten stared before it was nothing compared to now. His social gravity perk and the last two levels of charisma made him an undeniably attention-grabbing figure. He passed a kid's birthday party happening in an arcade but decided against crashing that to complete his quest.

Edward wandered out of the mall and down the street to one of the nicer parts of town, to a row of expensive restaurants and luxury apartment buildings. Edward's ears pricked up as he heard the sounds of chatting voices and light laughter.

He quickly found the source of the chatter. Middle-aged men and women in formal attire holding glasses of wine milled about an art gallery pointing at the black and white works on the wall and chatting in groups of twos and threes. The name of the gallery on the glass read “l’art” in big cursive letters.

Edward supposed this would count as a party. With a confidence Edward would never once have possessed, he walked into the gallery. Immediately every head inside turned to face him. On his display, the quest “attend a party” didn’t mark as complete as he had expected. Instead, it expanded like a scroll being unfurled. The words “event quest” appeared with a progress bar, along with a new open-ended task list. The quest renamed itself and Edward internally groaned. “The party don’t start till you walk in” the quest now read. A timer began to count down.

“Do a shirtless workout”

“Flex in a public place”

“Get three complements on your body”

These couldn’t be serious. For the first time, Leon considered what exactly the Juggernaut class was. So far the quests had driven him to become a paragon of athleticism, but these quests seemed to want him to be some preening peacock. Leon briefly thought about those viral internet challenges that went around when he was in middle school, the ones that supposedly started simply and ended with you jumping off the roof or something. He was pretty sure those were actually moral panics. Still he couldn’t help wondering if this might be the same, if the game was lulling him in with simple quests before making him perform this strange humiliation ritual.

Leon weighed his options. He could ignore the quests, and try to get to level seven by only using the experience he gained from working out, though judging by the increased amount of experence each level was requiring that could take days if not weeks. No, the quests were too valuable to ignore. He would have to suck up his pride and become what he had once scorned.

Tentatively Leon made his way to the massive workout area of the gym. By now it was late afternoon and the post-class rush had filled the gym to almost its capacity. There were a few other guys without shirts on, walking with their chests puffed out like monkeys and leaving sweaty imprints behind on their stations.

Leon let out an audible sigh and looked down at his XL Superman tee. It still hung loose on his frame thanks to his rapid metabolism but he suspected his arms and pecs were only a few levels of strength away from filling it to bursting once again. Slowly he stripped it off, the shirt slightly damp from the sweat he had accumulated over the hours of exercise. Leon still couldn’t believe the body underneath was his. He was now undeniably big, fit, and muscled. He looked like he could be a personal trainer or a fitness model. He had a six-pack, not even the skinny kind, but the strong ones in which each abs were visible. His pecs pushed out visibly. He tried to bounce them and found with his perfect form perk he was able to make them dance precisely. His tan skin from his half-French, half-Mexican heritage didn't hang as loose around his muscles as before.

Now shirtless Leon did a few bicep curls. “Nice guns,” a guy walking past said and Leon gave him a polite smile. The “get a complement on your body” quest marked itself as 1/3. After a few more curls and an overhead press with the dumbbells his “do a shirtless workout” also completed and Leon was thrust 1/3 of the way to level seven. Leon decided to stay shirtless for a few more exercises in hopes of getting two more compliments on his body, and because some small quiet part of him secretly loved the feeling of showing off his gains.

He continued to the next exercise doing squats, then lateral raises, then shoulder presses. Though totally imperceptible Leon convinced himself he could feel each exercise permanently pump up each of his muscles slightly larger as their effects were instantly expressed by his “Rapid Rewards” perk. Leon kept forgetting his torso was bare until he would spot an occasional annoyed or lustful look from a fellow gymgoer. He wasn’t sure if it was his utmost confidence he had in the space from the Gym Rat perk or if it was a newly discovered exhibitionist streak but he found himself not minding the attention. He tried to catch a few women's eyes but all of them seemed to avoid him purposefully which he couldn’t much blame them for.

Leon did a set of 20 pull-ups without much effort then wandered over to a wall of mirrors by the weights. Leon still couldn’t believe the tan muscular figure was him. Tentatively he flexed a bicep, overjoyed with the feeling of the substantial muscle bunching up. He flexed the other arm, snapping exactly into position for a textbook double bicep flex thanks to his Perfect Form perk. He looked around to see if anyone was watching him then flexed his abs, contorting them into different positions easily as if choosing from a preset in a video game. Leon flexed his legs, then popped his pecs before turning around and flaring out his lats in a pose that he assumed made his back look great. The quest “flex in a public place” was marked as completed and Leon was boosted 2/3 of the way to level seven. He just needed two more complements to complete his last quest, and judging by the lackluster reaction to his flexing he wasn’t going to get it here.

Leon wondered what his next perk would be. He hoped it would be something to stop him from sweating like a pig. By now he was fully drenched, his hair stuck unflatteringly to his forehead and a distinct oder surrounded him. Leon concluded that if he was going to get two more complements he needed to look a bit more presentable.

Though he had never been to the gym before Leon was able to navigate to the far end where the public men's locker room was located. Inside college guys and a few professors of various class years and body types milled around, changing into sports uniforms or back into streetwear after having done a late afternoon session after their class.

As Leon stepped through the door he felt his confidence leave him all in a rush. Suddenly he realized the “gym rat” perk that made him so able to strut around like a meathead jock didn't apply to the locker room. The air now felt cold against his exposed nipples and Leon crossed his beefy arms over them and sucked in, lifelong habits built from being a fat kid suddenly returning. He felt like an imposter with a body he hadn’t earned. He suddenly wished Edward were here. Edward never let him get too down on himself when it came to his appearance. He knew his friend would have given him the last two complements without him even having to ask.

Leon saw a few guys with towels wrapped around their waists head further into the locker room. He reasoned that must be the direction of the shower and followed them, grabbing a towel from the stack at the door. Thankfully his school was modern enough that the showers were not communal kind but instead with small individual stalls.

Leon claimed a shower stall then got naked in it putting his shorts, shirt, underwear, and socks in a bin outside the stall so he could change back into them when he was done. Leon wasn’t happy about changing back into his sweaty clothes but he didn't have another set of clothes with him and he didn't intend to go home until he was at least level ten and had won the bet with Edward.

The hot water felt great on Leon’s skin. He wasn’t sore, that wasn’t possible with his “Animal Endurance" perk and his “Rapid Rewards” perks but his body still felt tense from hours of continual activity. He took his time scrubbing away the sweat from his body, admiring the new crevices the removal of his fat and the growth of his muscles had created. He had been so busy with the events set off by “Altered State” that he hadn’t really had time to feel horny, but as he played with his dick that was undeniably bigger, if only by half an inch or so, he felt his hormones rush in. It took all his self-control not to jerk off right there in the shower stall. He wanted to save his first orgasm in this new body for a hot babe who could maybe give him the last two complements he needed. There were quite a few attractive women he had seen in the gym he would have never dreamed of scoring before who now seemed in his league if he could only keep himself from saying something stupid.

Leon shut the water off and reached a hand out to grab the towel he had stashed outside. His hand only met empty air. He flailed at the empty hook before peaking his head out to check what was going on. His heart dropped when he saw his towel and all his clothes were gone. His face went red and his blood cold. From the changing area, he could hear a group of men snickering with one another. Leon was tired of this shit. When he was fat he took it because there was no other option but now he was going to stand up for himself. Leon walked out of the shower, not caring if he was soaking wet or that his penis swung openly between his legs. “Nice dick” a guy yelled to him as he passed, Leon ignored him but his quest updated its progress to 2/3.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to see Hunter standing there holding his clothes. He was dressed in a different outfit from when Leon had seen him last. The frat guy didn't immediately see him as he chatted animatedly with his friends. “It was humiliating bro, all of a sudden I’m complementing Cassy and saying all this gay shit to that blond freak. I swear bro I’m going to beat his ass next time I see him, I swear it.”

He turned to see a naked Leon coming towards him and seemed momentarily confused. “I think those are mine,” Leon said pointing to the clothes in Hunter's hand. Hunter looked up and down at Leon's tall naked buff body and his angry face.

“Sorry bro, I thought these belonged to someone else.” He said obviously not recognizing Leon. It was funny how much more respect this guy gave him now that he had muscles and wasn’t fat.

“Oh did you think they belonged to that fatty from earlier?” Leon asked using Hunter's words from before. Hunter and his four fellow frat bros laughed awkwardly thinking Leon was making a fat joke, though Leon kept a serious face, “Cause you're right that's me.”

Hunter’s face took on a look of confusion. “Bro that's not possible, your buff and stuff.”

Leon heard a ding as he received the last compliment and was boosted to level seven. He’d take the compliment where he could get it.

“You have reached level seven. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma, +0.3 Intelligence.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Naked Confidence: you and others feel completely comfortable with your body, be it in a tuxedo or in your birthday suit.

He didn't have time to think much about the notifications as he rapidly dismissed them. Still, Leon couldn’t help but feel his body grow wider and taller as new strength pumped up all his muscles. His body was going from athletic into the territory of seriously fit.

What's more, Leon felt a wave of confidence overcome him, his nipples suddenly felt less exposed and he no longer felt any care at all about having his dick out so publicly. In fact, it felt almost natural. Around him, he saw people shift their gaze away from his bare crotch and to the confrontation occurring as if his nakedness was no longer of interest.

“You really don’t miss much do you,” Leon said taking a step forward.

Hunter's face hardened. He may not understand exactly what was going on but he knew enough to know he had just been insulted. For a second Leon glanced at the two new quests that had popped up with the new level and a plan started to take shape.

Leon took another step forward so that he was in Hunter's face, the two men now even in height thanks to the latest boost from level seven. “If you wanted to see me naked so bad all you had to do was ask. I’m happy to show you what a real man looks like.”

Hunter's face became a mask of rage, exactly as Leon intended. “Your fucking dead you F—“ he said and swung an up arm towards Leon's face in a brutal swing. Leon activated his inner strength ability and felt the world slow for a moment. With the second of strength the ability lent him he deflected the punch with one hand and shoved the other into Hunter's chest with the other. The frat bro’s eyes went wide as he sailed ten feet across the room, landing on the floor and sliding until his back came to rest against a row of lockers with a loud metal jingle. The cheering crowd of Hunter's cronies and regular gym attendees let out a shriek of surprise. For a moment Leon worried he might have overdone it, then Hunter slowly got to his feet, muscular chest moving up and down as he let out deep rageful breaths.

“Race ya looser” Leon called out and ran for the door. Hunters bellow behind him and the sound of multiple pairs of running feet indicated the frat guys had taken the bait.

Leon seriously hoped this mad chase would count as fulfilling one of the two quests he had just been assigned, “win a contest of speed” Otherwise he was risking his life for nothing. He supposed there might have been easier ways to fulfill the quest but he would have to take shortcuts to level ten if he hoped to beat Edward.

Without his inner strength power, Leon was quickly realizing he lacked an edge. These guys knew this building far better than Leon did, plus had had their powerful long legs and athletic bodies for their whole lives as opposed to Leon’s few hours, meaning they knew much better how to control them. The sounds of footfalls and angry threats of what Hunter was going to do to him once he caught up with him got louder behind him and Leon rounded a corner then hurried up a set of stairs.

Five sets of footsteps thundered after him up the stairs, only a few paces away. Leon saw an exit and bolted to it with all his might. His inner strength ability, the only edge he had over Hunter, still had more than a minute left on its cooldown.

Leon slammed the door open and ran out of the gymnasium, into the cold sunny fall day. He saw the same group of LARPers still performing mock battles on the grass and made a beelined straight for them. He imagined he made a strange sight, naked with his penis flailing every which way, sprinting full speed forward with five very angry frat guys chasing after him, gaining on him with every step.

Hunter saw Leon was headed to the group of students with foam weapons and ran faster than before until he was only a step behind Leon. He tried to grab Leon but Leon was able to duck out of the way. The two were only ten feet from the group. Hunter tried again to stop Leon this time with a full-body tackle. Just before Hunter brought Leon down two things happened, the quest demanding he “win a contest of speed” was completed and Ruth, the girl who had shown him how to play before, threw him a shield like a frisbee which Leon caught and used to block a series of blows which Hunter rained down onto him as the two tumbled in the grass.

The two struggled in the grass, Leon’s shield protecting his torso and head but not preventing Hunter from savaging his arms and legs with painful punches. Leon wrapped his naked legs around Hunter and with effort flipped the heavier man over so that he was on top. His inner strength power still had fifteen seconds left on its cooldown.

Without it, Hunter was able to flip Leon back over and pin his arms and legs to the grass. The latest level of strength had made Leon nearly Hunters equal in size but the large man still had the advantage. Leon struggled violently against the frat guy to little effect. Hunter loomed over him, breath coming in heavy gasps and eyes filled with murder. “I’m going to drag your asshole out your mouth.”

Using one hand to subdue both of Leon’s hands Hunter placed a hand around Leon’s neck and started to choke him, hard. Leon’s inner strength ability still had ten seconds left on cooldown. Without it, Leon didn't have the strength to break Hunter's grip.

Above him, he saw Ruth mercilessly bring her foam sword down onto Hunter's back. The man didn't flinch but one of his friends grabbed Ruth from behind.

Leon's vision started to blur as his windpipe was constricted. He gasped helplessly and tried to roll his naked body out from Hunter's pin, but the frat guy's body was too heavy and his grip too strong. Leon found his thoughts going to Edward, his best friend. He wondered how his friend's “Altered State” journey was going, it couldn’t possibly be any worse than his.

#male tf #male transformation #musclegrowth #tf #reality change #ai image

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animefeminist · 5 months ago

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J Michael Tatum discusses returning to Spice and Wolf, dubbing philosophy, and Ouran's queer legacy

J Michael Tatum is a juggernaut of the English dubbing sphere. He started out as a secondary character in 2005’s Samurai 7, a mecha-flavored adaptation of the Kurosawa film, and from there went on to play multiple iconic roles, including Sebastian Michaelis, Scar, Okabe Rintaro, and Isaac Dion. Most importantly for today’s discussion, however, are his turns as traveling merchant Kraft Lawrence (Spice and Wolf) and host club manager (and Shadow King) Ohtori Kyoya (Ouran High School Host Club).

We sat down with Tatum to talk about radical recent changes in the dubbing industry, what it’s like being a highly visible gay voice actor, and Ouran’s enduring appeal.

Anime Feminist: Just to start off with something probably a lot of folks have asked you at this point: but what’s it like playing Lawrence again after all these years?

J Michael Tatum: Oh, such a gift. BrIna and I both—Brina Palencia, who plays Holo–so love those characters and that franchise that we’ve been dreaming of getting to revisit them for years because we never really got to finish it. And we loved it so much that we came back for the audiobook when they asked us even though we don’t typically do audiobooks, because they’re very time-consuming. But we love those characters so much we couldn’t resist. And then now [there’s] the reboot, so it is lovely.

It’s always such a wonderful feeling to get to come back to characters that you feel a relationship with, that you feel akin to. Now, I’m older, hopefully a little wiser and have more tricks up my sleeve that we can bring to the performance that I wouldn’t have thought of when I was, you know, 18 years younger. I’m also just so glad that here I am, pushing 50, and I could still play him. [Laughs]

Read it at Anime Feminist!

#ouran #ohshc #ouran hshc #ouran high school host club #kyoya ootori #kyouya ootori #kraft lawrence #spice and wolf #kyotama #tamakyo #j michael tatum #articles

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qqueenofhades · 6 months ago

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can you assuage my creeping fear about the debate between harris and trump? my brain is like. the media will be salivating over any chance to get the story HARRIS FLUBS THE DEBATE MORE AT 6 unless she's 100% perfect for it. i keep telling myself that she's an incredibly seasoned prosecutor who knows exactly what to do to unravel these sorts of people, she has plenty of time to prepare, he's completely gone over the edge into incoherence most of the time, but i also keep thinking of how, after weeks of her absolutely pile-driving the republican party, the media will be circling for any mistake, mis-step, or imperfection to blow out of proportion to make it seem like she's failing. i guess what i'm afraid of is the other shoe dropping? or the bubble bursting? i'm afraid of this hope?

i was barely aware of obama in 2008, too young to vote and not paying attention, so i don't know how this kind of momentum turned into the juggernaut that got him elected. i know you believe that the same can happen here, how did he take on the predatory press?

Well, first, we need to recognize that the media treatment of the debate WILL be wildly unfair, full stop. If Trump shows up and puts on pants, he will be applauded by the media, because they have the lowest imaginable bar where he is concerned and everything that would have been multiply-disqualifying for any other candidate makes them just shrug and find a way to make excuses for him. So yes, he will literally be congratulated if he shows up on September 10, because that is how the media works. See: three relentless weeks of bullying Biden out of the race after the bad debate, barely mentioning Trump's equally insane diatribes at the same debate, and now, when he's gone full-on demented and is raving about AI-generated crowds at Kamala's events? Nary a peep. Lol.

However, the main narrative that's emerging from the Harris takeover is that voters and the media are miles apart on where they actually see this race going, and without the media's favorite chew toy of Biden's shortcomings, it has become increasingly difficult to avoid focusing on Trump's flaws, even tangentially. See the mainstream media reporters whining constantly that Harris hasn't given them a press conference and congratulating Trump for lying to them nonstop for an hour; they simply have no frame of reference that's remotely useful, because they are so beholden to making Trump look like a normal candidate and focusing on Harris's "flaws" as if they are remotely comparable to his. But at the same time, there has been a far heightened level of pushback on this BS manipulation, and everybody can see through it, precisely because the media and/or the right-wing smear machine has tried this so many times before and their tactics are now completely transparent. Ordinary voters don't give a shit whether Harris WiLl tAkE qUesTioNs fRoM tHe mEdiA; they're too busy flooding her campaign with donations, attending her rallies, signing up for volunteer shifts, and so forth. In fact, the reason the media is trying SO HARD to kill her momentum is because they, like Trump, rely on doing so. The more they try and don't succeed, the more panicked they'll get. We have to prepare for that, and we have to have her back.

That said, we should recall that Harris easily crushed Pence in their debate in 2020, and Pence was actually halfway presentable at it compared to Trump (which is a low bar, but still). The way Trump "wins" is that he just repeats a lot of lies forcefully and over and over, which Biden was ill-prepared to counter because he has a far more deliberate and decisive speaking style (related to stutter/speech difficulties, temperament as a politician, etc). Everything that I have seen from the Harris campaign in terms of communication so far, however, has been the exact kind of clapback that makes Trump look stupid and which shows that they are very attuned to the kind of strategies that work against that nonsensical bullying Gish gallop. Therefore, I have to trust that they have INTENSIVELY studied what went wrong with Biden/Trump in June, and also empowered Kamala to do what she does in her fashion and which has been extremely successful thus far at knocking down Trump's BS. Also, she's just a better and more fluent communicator than Biden, she looks and sounds more energetic, and those stupid aesthetic Vibes are half of the battle when it comes to convincing the public.

Also, we should recognize that Trump looked deeply creepy on stage at the debates with HRC in 2016, and that was when he was downright sane compared to now. He stalked her, he stood behind her, he rolled his eyes, he bullied her, and people noticed that (he subsequently won the election, yes, but if nothing else, 2024 feels nothing like 2016). If he has to stand on stage with a black woman kicking his ass, after his appearance at the NABJ event in Chicago quickly became a touchstone for how badly he fucked it up, he is going to just look BAD, and when that's the case, people will immediately fit it into the existing narrative (that he's scared of Harris and deeply racist and unglued). You can also play your part in making sure it does. At least half of the Bidengate furor came from Democrats melting down and yelling about it afterward, and that led into the knives-out media coverage that spiraled for 3.5 weeks until Biden withdrew. We can, yknow, NOT DO THAT this time!

So: yeah. We have to be aware that yes, the media coverage of the debate will find absolutely every excuse to praise Trump and bash Harris, because that's just baked in. However, we can also understand that there's a wide-and-getting-wider CHASM between how ordinary voters see things right now and how the media is desperate to play it, and the more transparent they get, the more easily we are able to call it out. (See Lawrence O'Donnell's rant the other night.) We are going to have to keep doing that and not let up, but it's not going to go well for Trump either way and it's still an open question as to whether he even shows up after trying SO hard to dodge. It's not out of the question that he'll announce on September 4 that by Harris not showing up to the Fox debate she never agreed to and which exists only in his deluded mind, he doesn't have to do the same on September 10. He is a scared fucking orange chickenshit who KNOWS he's badly outmatched against Harris and whose entire campaign strategy at this point relies on lying low and trying not to make voters remember again how much they hate him, which is already backfiring. And with your help, we can make him MORE scared all the way to prison. Let's do it.

#andromeda3116 #ask #politics for ts #the giant orange monster #harris walz 2024

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coffeegnomee · 5 months ago

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Ok just caught up and like. What the fuck man.

I literally all can do is just sit here and hope and pray that the old members stick it out and help the new members understand what lifesteal is actually about.

Because lifesteal has the reputation of being the lying and betraying and killing people server.

But it is just Not That. Like obviously those things have happened on the server, fine.

But lifesteal is far far far more about teammates. Believing that they will have your back. Working together to do cool shit. Trusting each other.

It’s about commitment and honor and respect and working together on an interesting goal.

It’s about not screwing over your teammates for a cheap moment that ruins the rest of your relationship on the server. (Mapicc showed this perfectly this week too! He ended the experiments because he’d rather have a teammate than execute a crazy emotional manipulation arc on Zam and really push him over the edge.)

They sacrifice for each other. They protect each other. They pick each other up when they get killed by their enemies. They encourage them when they’re down. Help them be strong against their fears. Get each other gear and hearts and make sure they’re safe. Spend hours on each other’s arc together in vc all night.

They lie to OTHERS for their team. They protect the wormhole for months even when they don’t want to or believe in it at all.

They do tiny little things that they know the other person will like just so they know they love them and appreciate them being on the team. They say it too, to each other’s faces.

It’s about loving each other bro. There’s a massive fucking reason why there’s so much shipping fanart man. They fucking love each other platonically so damn much and so damn perfectly that you can make it romantic and it’s like not even like all that weird.

It makes me so fucking mad that you could boil down this beautiful server into lying and killing and go on it and be like, I heard princezam betrays every team he’s on obviously we should betray everyone and be on the lookout for every single person being a betrayer.

Zam fucking lost his mind over betraying team awesome and eclipse. He AGONIZED for MONTHS before pulling the trigger for eclipse and he didn’t betray team awesome until after their massive arc together that he was completely loyal to, finished it out as a team, and only when they looked like they weren’t going to give up their unfair advantage did he seek to leave them. And he fought them and left.

The fucking respect he has for a team is insane.

And same goes for Bacon and Mapicc.

as for others:

Ro only betrays if he gets a better offer (from mapicc)

Leo betrays when it’s interesting for the story to have a juggernaut.

Spoke betrays only when he has his own bigger plan to execute that will create something interesting for the whole server to encounter.

Clown only betrays when you go against his morals of creating content by chaos.

I can’t even think of any notable betrayals from before s5. Most of the server does not betray ever. Most of the server never lies.

They only lie and betray when it’s for the benefit of the content.

And that’s what fucking makes me so upset about this. Bacon is doing this arc for the BETTERMENT of the server. He literally says he’s doing it to make other people’s lives on the sever more interesting. It ain’t even about him. He’s not even making a video about this. He just likes to do cool shit on the server because it’s fun to craft an overarching story for everyone to play into.

It’s never been about hearts man.

The most valuable resource on the server is content.

And Bacon understands this. In a way that quite possibly could make him a worldender like spoke and clown. He’s really getting into the role of strategizing fun things for the server to do for no other reason than someone has to do it and that it’s good for the server.

But the new members just do not understand what “for content” means. They just kill randomly. They don’t defend each other. They don’t tell the other teammate to give the heart back bc it’s been proven enough that they’re innocent. They’re constantly suspicious and will only meet if there are no enemies online.

It’s not about the hearts man.

It’s about the team.

#lifesteal #rants #honestly more /lh than i sound #gnome rambles

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mimimarvelingmarvel · 6 months ago

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time bound part ten

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Ten - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2.3k

"Look at that, yeah. See them big old hands coming through? Is there not a one-hundred-nothing inside that?" Or at least that’s what I think he said. It’s hard to tell over the roar of the wind whipping through the open windows, his thick accent muddling the words, and the cramped space in the backseat where Logan and I are squeezed together. My focus is elsewhere, drawn to Logan, who stares out the window with that familiar, distant expression, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He always seems to have something on his mind, and I can’t help but wonder what it is this time.

The car ride to Cassandra’s lair is pure chaos. Elektra grips the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity, her eyes sharp as she navigates the treacherous terrain. The engine growls in protest as we barrel down the uneven road, jostling everyone inside. Laura, Blade, and Gambit are crammed into the backseat with us, their bodies pressed against one another, while Wade rides shotgun, his usual irreverence barely contained.

Up ahead, Johnny flies through the sky, a streak of flame cutting across the clouds as he scouts for any signs of trouble. His flames cast flickering shadows on the ground below, illuminating the path as we race toward our destination.

Deadpool breaks the tense silence, his voice cutting through the wind. “What Gambit’s trying to say is getting Juggernaut’s helmet ain’t gonna be easy. I’m just making stuff up with this.”

Blade doesn’t miss a beat. “Gun.”

Deadpool glances back, spotting the massive firearm Blade has in his hands. “Where do you get that little beauty?”

Elektra’s voice is cold and steady. “That’s the Punisher’s ’84.”

A split second later, the car jolts violently as Blade fires the gun out the window. The force of the shot nearly deafens me, and I flinch as the blast tears through the giant, skeletal hands of Ant-Man, shredding them into a shower of bone fragments. The car skids to a stop, screeching to a halt within the crook of his shattered arms, which now lay lifeless and splintered around us.

We all clamber out of the car, the scent of gunpowder and burnt metal lingering in the air. As we gather ourselves, my eyes are drawn upward to the horde of mutant variants that have gathered to protect Cassandra. They stand like an army ready to defend their queen. High above, Cassandra watches from the eye of a massive skull, her silhouette dark and menacing.

Blade’s grin is feral, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Gambit cracks his knuckles, a wild gleam in his purple eyes. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Whoo, I’m about to make a name for myself here.”

Logan’s expression darkens, and he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, his knuckles brushing against my elbow. I return his gaze with a sad smile.

“I don’t think you guys walk away from this,” Logan mutters, his voice low and filled with a grim certainty.

Gambit grins, unperturbed. “You just make sure people know what happened here today. When you get out of here, you have a drink for me, yeah?”

Blade steps forward, his tone commanding. “You guys stay on our six, get inside. We’ll make sure you get the package.”

Elektra nods, her gaze steely. “Then we’ll get our ending.”

As if on cue, Johnny lands beside me, his flames flickering out as he touches down. “They’re toast,” he says with a smirk.

I cringe at his words. “You did not just say that.”

He just laughs, but the laughter is cut short as the shouting begins. The battlefield erupts into chaos, a cacophony of clashing blades and explosive gunfire. I charge into the fray, my blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. I sweep my legs over an opponent, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone as I drive my blade into their chest. The adrenaline pumps through my veins as I move with deadly grace, each strike calculated, each move precise.

A vision flashes in my mind, warning me of an enemy approaching from behind. I pivot on my heel, spinning just in time to deflect their attack and drive my blade into their heart. The battle rages on for what feels like an eternity, my body moving on instinct as I cut down one foe after another. Azrael appears before me, his eyes burning with a malevolent fire. We clash again and again, the power of our strikes sending shockwaves through the ground. But I’m faster, and after a brutal exchange, I manage to land a few hits, weakening him just enough to create an opening.

Wade, Logan, and I sprint through the chaos, slipping past the front lines and into the mouth of the skull, where Cassandra awaits. The interior of the skull is dimly lit, the air thick with the stench of decay. Cassandra reclines in a chair, her posture relaxed, a delicate cup of tea in her hand. She looks every bit the picture of calm amid the storm raging outside.

“You three escaping I could live with,” Cassandra says, her voice dripping with condescension. “But coming back, willingly. You’re so silly.”

Deadpool’s voice is strained, his usual bravado tempered by exhaustion. “I just need to get home.”

Cassandra’s smile is cold and devoid of warmth. “Well, that’s not on the menu, I’m afraid. It’s death or enslavement, a la carte, of course. Up!” With a flick of her wrist, Wade is flung into the air, his body slamming into the ceiling with a sickening crunch. He crashes to the floor, groaning in pain as Cassandra turns her gaze on me.

“I think you may be of use,” she muses, her eyes narrowing as she studies me.

Before I can react, she flicks her wrist again, sending a searing pain through my skull. I fall to my knees, clutching my head as the agony intensifies, my vision blurring to white. My mind feels like it’s being torn apart, but just as quickly as it started, the pain stops, leaving me gasping for breath.

“Stay,” Cassandra commands, and I feel my muscles lock into place, immobilizing me where I kneel. My head and neck the only thing I can move.

“It’s nice to give someone else a chance to talk,” she says, motioning towards Wade, who is still groaning in pain on the floor.

Logan’s eyes blaze with fury as he charges at her, claws extended. “Not my strong suit,” he growls.

But Cassandra is faster. With a wave of her hand, she redirects his attack, forcing him to stab his own legs. Logan collapses, blood seeping through his jeans as he gasps in pain. I flinch, unable to bear the sight, and turn away.

Cassandra circles Logan, her curiosity piqued. “You are an interesting one, aren’t you? I do feel like you get lost behind all of this,” she says, gesturing vaguely around her. “Deadpools are a dime a dozen here in The Void. But you, what’s going on in here?” She taps his forehead lightly, her fingers pressing into his skull.

Logan’s pained screams echo through the chamber as she delves into his mind. I close my eyes, trying to block out the sound, but it’s impossible. The anguish in his voice cuts through me, and I grit my teeth, fighting against the hold she has on me.

“Not what I expected back here,” Cassandra murmurs, her tone almost gentle. “You’re hiding from them, from all the ones you let down. So much pain. My little animal.”

Her words ignite a fury deep within me. Logan has spent his whole life being treated like an animal, caged and forced to fight for survival. The anger surges through me, and I struggle against the invisible bonds holding me in place.

I catch sight of Laura throwing down a bag, and Wade, now healed, slowly approaches it. My heart races as I realize what he’s about to do. I stop resisting, instead focusing on keeping Cassandra’s attention on Logan as Wade retrieves Juggernaut’s helmet. I hold my breath as he steps closer and slams the helmet onto her head, gripping her arms tightly as she screams in rage, recoiling from Logan.

Wade’s voice is a deadly whisper. “You’re gonna send us home, then I’m gonna twist your fucking head off.”

Cassandra laughs, the sound sharp and grating. “Why are you laughing?” I ask, a cold dread settling in my stomach.

“I can’t send you unless you get this thing off my head,” Cassandra explains, her voice dripping with malice. “And as soon as you do that, I’m going to boil your brains on an atomic level whilst flicking my bean. Either you kill me, or I kill you. Both wonderful options.”

Deadpool tightens his grip. “You want me to do it?”

Logan shakes his head. “No, I’ll do it.”

Deadpool scoffs. “I have her neck right here, it’s really no problem.”

Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade, his words sharp and unyielding. “You’ll screw it up.”

Deadpool rolls his eyes, exasperation lacing his tone. “Oh, come on, Mr. PG-13, it’s the last one.” His usual bravado feels almost forced, like he’s trying to break through the thick atmosphere hanging over the group.

Suddenly, a gunshot rips through the air, loud and jarring. My heart lurches in my chest, skipping a beat as the sound reverberates around us.

“No, no, no,” I whisper, my voice trembling with panic. The horror of what’s just happened begins to sink in.

Pyro stands there, his hand still clutching the smoking gun, his expression a mix of defiance and desperation. He’s shot Cassandra. The blood spreads quickly across her clothes, a stark contrast to her pale skin.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” Pyro stammers, his voice shaking as he tries to justify his actions. “Day after day, ‘shovel the shit,’ ‘fetch the meats.’ I have spent my entire exist—”

But Logan doesn’t let him finish. With a brutal efficiency, he silences Pyro with a single, powerful punch. The force of it sends Pyro crumpling to the ground, his words cut off as his body hits the floor.

Logan’s eyes are cold, almost detached, as he looks down at Pyro. “Not everyone gets a speech,” he says flatly, his tone devoid of any sympathy. “She’s gonna die.”

Deadpool, trying to diffuse the situation, steps forward, his voice taking on a slightly desperate edge. “Okay, hey, if I take this helmet off, you promise you won’t kill us?”

Cassandra, even as she bleeds out, doesn’t miss a beat. Her voice, though weaker, is still laced with that same venomous edge. “I promise I will kill her first.”

Logan’s growl is low, menacing, a sound that sends shivers down my spine.

Deadpool throws up his hands in frustration. “Why are you like this?”

Cassandra sighs, the sound almost wistful. “I wish I knew.”

“Take it off,” Logan orders, his voice brooking no argument.

Deadpool looks at him, confused. “What?”

My eyes dart between Cassandra and Logan, anxiety gnawing at my insides. “Logan, she said she’ll kill me. I don’t like that idea.”

But Logan remains calm, his gaze steady as he meets mine. “Trust me. Take it off.”

Deadpool presses, his voice tinged with doubt. “Why?”

I take a deep breath, the tension in the air almost suffocating. After a moment, I nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Take it off.”

Deadpool hesitates, his usual confidence faltering. “This is our only chance to fix our shit.”

Logan snaps, his patience fraying. “Take it off! I am wearing this suit. And that means a lot of things, but most of all, it means I’m an X-Man. I am the X-Man. And I know your brother. As much as I want to fucking kill you—every bone in my body wants to fucking kill you—he would not let me stand here and watch you die. Take your hands off. This is for him. This is for Charles.”

With deliberate movements, Logan removes the helmet, the gesture heavy with significance.

Cassandra’s expression softens, her voice losing some of its harshness. “My brother loved you.”

Logan nods, his voice quiet, filled with a deep, unspoken emotion. “He loved all of us.”

Cassandra sighs, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “Hmm. Must be nice.”

Logan’s voice is steady, filled with quiet conviction. “He would have loved you too. If he knew about you, if he knew where you were, he would have torn a hole in the fucking universe to bring you home.”

Cassandra’s smile turns bitter, her eyes darkening. “This is home.”

Logan’s gaze is intense, almost pleading. “Then at least let us save his.”

Cassandra’s eyes flicker with something almost like understanding. “You wanna hear something crazy?” she says, her tone shifting. “An amateur magician roamed through here a while back. I killed him, of course, wore his skin around for four days. But I found this little trinket on his lovely fingers.”

With a flourish, she begins to open a portal, the swirling energy forming a glowing circle.

Deadpool’s eyes widen in amazement. “Strange. Marvel’s sparkle circle.”

Logan eyes the portal warily. “What is that?”

Cassandra smirks, the glint of mischief returning to her gaze. “This is your way home. I do owe you for saving my life, but let’s keep things interesting. I’d say you have about four seconds before your life’s through.”

Wade grins. “Race you!”

Without hesitation, the three of us bolt toward the rapidly closing portal, the adrenaline surging through my veins. We leap through it just in time, the sensation of free-falling overwhelming as the portal closes behind me, leaving us to face whatever awaits on the other side.

Next Part

A/N: Boring chapter imo but i have big plans tehe

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

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threepandas · 7 months ago

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Bad End: Eve

You know how most Otome games are vaguely historical? Usually some non-specific mishmash of European countries? But fluffier and with more bows? It had once "gotten" to me, I think. I remember looking for outliers. Non-joke ones. Something that wasn't just "but this time with hats!"

I found one.

And now? Now I'm not sure if I curse that day or thank whatever force of nature lead me there. I guess... I guess it depends. Would I still have ended up HERE? If I had not found it? If so, then I genuinely and actually fucking rue it. Like... like actual "you'll rue the day! Bwahaha!" Type rue it. That's me. Ruing.

But? If it was always going to happen?

Then I guess...

I guess I'm weirdly glad. Because at least I have some fucking idea of what's going ON. Terrible, as it all is. Fucked, as the situation is. At least I'm not... not confused. Blind and at the mercy of those around me. Ignorance truely isn't bliss. All it does is leave you to try an fill in the blanks yourself. Usually with something far worse.

Not that the situation could GET much worse, by much.

I was in an Otome game. NOT a flower, high society, and dragons kind either. No. I? Was in a Dark Sci-Fi otome game. "Fate of man" was thrown around a lot. Power of luuuuv~ and such. Also, you know, HORRIFIC ethical violations. Human experimentation. Cataclysmic events and humanity "starting over".

All the high drama sci-fi concepts you could expect. It was a romp. Had good art. I'd had fun! Which is why I remember it so clearly.

Less fun when you're IN IT.

When you AREN'T one of the characters you KNOW will survive.

In fact, are one of the characters you know WON'T fucking survive. And will probably die MESSY. Horribly. Cause see, our BELOVED Harem collecting Protagonist? She? Was AN Eve. "AN".

Take a wild fucking guess what THAT project is about.

Did you say "breeding a better race of humans"? Ding ding ding! With humanity currently fucked, they want to FIX the problem by FIXING humanity. And of course, fuck ethics! Volunteers? Why use those?! Let's horrifically mad scientist our way to atrocity-ville! Make it all the more "God rightfully punishing us for our unforgivable sins" when we get wiped out!

Fffffffuck YOU, plot! I have to live here too!

You may, in fact, be picking up a slight note of stir crazy. A "wow, this lady rambles like a mother fucker" vibe. You would TOO, if you were stuck in a FUCKING TUBE. All I can do, day in and day out? Is wake, think, observe, then go right back to sleep. I can't even eat! I got a TUBE for that!

I... I miss showers.

Everything is GOO.

I'm an Eve. And if it weren't for the air tube controlng my breathing? I'd laughing hysterically until I died. And no, not in the "oh how funny" way. God. Oh... oh god. What a way to die. NONE of the Eves survive "the program".

Those IDIOTS are so OBSESSED with making bigger and bigger, better and better, FUCKING JUGGERNAUTS? That the Adams? Have long since reached the point of "mindless killing machine". UNSTABLE is putting it lightly. There is sexual dimorphism and then there's literal incompatibility.

But GOD FORBID the scientists admit that THEY are the ones with the inferior product.

It... it was even part of the game's plot. The scientist who made "Eve" HID her while HE made an Adam. I do not have that luxury. Somewhere, there is an unstable BESERKER being told I'm his "wife". That we're going to be HAPPY together. That he'll get to put his bruising, blood soaked hands anywhere he WANTS... just after he WINS me from the other Adam's.

Got to prove HE'S the best specimen, after all.

It makes my skin crawl. All I can hope, is that I can either provoke the bastard enough to kill me before they have a chance to stop him, or? I use my own enhanced strength to snap my neck. Maybe bite my tounge. Like HELL am I letting an Adam get near me.

The hiss of laboratory doors.

"Perfection at last..." Comes a relieved sigh. "All those HIDEOUS specimens. Why they make me suffer them, I'll never understand. We should have terminated them months ago. My poor project, they really think they're WORTHY of you..."

There's a derisive laugh. The scientist strolling into the lab I've been developing in, familiar. I watch him casually shrug off his lab coat and dump is bag. Hang his coat over the back of his chair. Turn, as he does each day, to STARE up at me. His eyes are a pale, pale purple the likes of which I've never seen before.

They're HAUNTING.

There is almost a red tint to them, though maybe that's the lights. The goo. I can never tell. He always looks ENTRANCED by me. Floating, visored, connected to far too many tubes an' wires. I'd think it was the fact that I was naked if it weren't for the way his gaze doesn't seem to drift lower then my shoulders. Seems more entranced by the way my hair moves, as though under water.

I've never once heard him talk about me lustfully.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't SCARE me.

"Let's begin, shall we? Time for your daily doses, mmm?" He says, voice dangerously affectionate. As though i had CHOSEN to do this to myself. As though he were merely reminding me of my morning medicine and not the hell ahout to come. "Going to be good for me? I know you shall, you always are."

He turned back to his desk, his computer. A few keystrokes... and I could feel the pod above me begin to hum, as it awoke. Oh god. Oh god it never got easier. From the corner of my eyes, bright chemicals slide down thind lines and into my veins. Like lines of lava. Bolts of electricity and pain. It was... AGONY.

My muscles seized. Brain screeched, first to the screaming I wish I could make... then static. With the long practice of daily pain, it took me far away. The click, click, click of keys. The sound of his voice, so terribly PLEASED, as I hung there and just TOOK it. No restraints, no strugging, no damaging myself. Just unbearable fire in my veins and a brain far, far away.

"Good girl~"

Distantly a phone rang. He made an annoyed sound, but picked up regardless.

"What. I'm in the middle of- ...Excuse me? I'm quite sure I did not hear you correctly. I said 'NO'. She's not-....I will NOT BE-...What. Are you out of your god damned MIND? That pile of scraps you call a project is coming NOWHERE near my-! ....you think you're clever, don't you?"

"Fine. You want to TALK? Let's TALK, Anderson. I'll be there in five."

From far away, past the pain, I watched him chance down at something at the screen. Back up to me. He hung up the phone but did not pause the program. Instead, calmly rising from his desk. Shrugging on his lab coat. Rounding the desk and striding towards my bio-tube.

"Hmmm, honestly, it should have been spaced out over a few more days... but you can take it. Endure a bit longer for me, would you, darling? Daddy's going to go deal with something for just a moment, he'll be right back, my perfect girl. Be good."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to my tank. One hand splayed next to it like he badly wished he could touch. Could stroke skin. Hold his creation close. It was not the first time he had done this. Small, covetous, little actions like he wanted to crawl inside my skin and STAY there. Like he cursed the glass that separated us.

He pulled back. Shifted to the side and kneeled. He... had hidden something behind my bio-pod? When? Apparently before I had become aware. Because I had not known about it. A black shoe box. I watched him open i-GUN. Thaaaat was a gun! Fuck. Well at least? By the time anyone thinks to look in on me? The overdose will probably have killed me?

There is a cold, terrible smile on his face as he rolls to his face. Tucking the gun into an inner pocket. It has a silencer. He leans forward one last time. Lightly kissing the glass of my pod, as though heading off to work and not to very obviously kill somebody. The pain continues. Builds. I watch him leave.

With nothing to anchor myself on... time blurs.

I think? There are alarms? Red lights flash. Then they stop. There is shouting at one point. But then silence. An explosion? Or am I hallucinating? Pain. My nerves are on fire. I don't want to have SKIN. Please... please make it STOP! Calm foot steps? Come to kill me? Please come to kill me. Make it STOP.

The lights died a... time? Ago? Emergency lights on now. Generators in the room are loud. Why can I still hear the feet? Footses? Words. H..hurts. please.

Click.

The pain eases to a stop. Aching but nothing new. Over? Oh, thank god. I can sleep now, right? But... sound? New. At my feet. Gurgling. Wha-? The very top of my head feels cold. Then my forehead. Then my temple's and ears, cheeks, jaw... wait. Is? Is the tube...DRAINING? I open my eyes.

When did I close them?

He's back.

Standing right in front of the tube. Blood staining the hem of his coat, lingering marks of his massacre cleaned but not quite scrubbed from his body. There are little off red stains on his cheek, from what must be blood splatter. They look like tiny freckles.

I'm... I can't...

I reach as the tube down my throat is pulled almost carelessly away by the machine. Choke, suffocate, as the same is done for my air tube. But then it's done... and I can BREATHE under my own power. Gasp and splutter, as the goo sloshes around my knees. Then it's gone. And the tube I've been leaning my weight against is roughly pulled away.

I collapse forward, my muscles having never actually supported me in this life.

Arms catch me. Wrapping me in a possessive hug. A hand immediately burying itself in long uncut hair, even as the other wraps itself around my torso to lean me against his body in a cradle. My face is pressed to his neck by the hand in my hair, cradling my head and neck. I can feel breath against the goo wet crown of my head.

"Finally~" he breaths out, whispering it against me like a sigh. "My beautiful, perfect girl. My darling creation. It took so LONG. Those retrobates interfering at every turn, lusting after you like ANIMALS, trying to keep you from me. Then, worst of all, trying to toss you to some pack of savages? Oh, darling~ Daddy's been so worried for you."

"But we'll be okay now, won't we? I finally have you. All fresh and finally finished. My perfect Eve. You can pick any name you want, of course. You and I will be leaving this ugly little place. Daddy has PLANS. A fresh new world, just for you, sweetheart."

He laughed, his hug tightening in a way that would have left bruises had I been a normal human. Kisses were pressed to my temple. A cheek, rubbed against my hair. He seemed... seemed GIDDY with it. That nothing could stop him now. There was no glass in his way. I could not move yet. My muscles twitched when I tried, but that was it. I wasn't even sure I could talk yet, if I tried.

"Aaah~♡ Welcome to the World, Darling. My Perfection. My Eve. This time no snakes or Adams to tarnish you. To get in your way. Just you and your Father~"

"FOREVER~♡"

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