Man, what we'd left behind. This black lump was taking me back. An era when sleek and thin wasn't the only marketable aesthetic for anything tech. When a laptop could brain a man instead of giving a paper cut.
Well, not that far. Whoever made a Dragon Phone liked their tech thick and durable. My thumb had no hope of reaching the whole screen and I'd get a slight workout just using this thing. But I couldn't hate it.
And the Director had just handed me one of these for free. I felt buttered up.
I'd done my due diligence, checked the paperwork. Ensured I wasn't signing away anything.
It was all straight forward. Honest. I'd do0uble checked because I felt like an idiot the first time around, sure I'd missed something.
She'd even given an apology that I again had no idea how to receive. I didn't exactly tell her maybe don't traumatize someone so you don't have to apologize next time. I was just not the person to know how much I could get away with in this kind of paper maze.
And now things were looking more than up.
Stipends? An apartment? They had to spend some days still to set it all up but the contracts had been clear. In exchange for just not committing crime or abusing powers, and committing to regular check ins and further testing my powers, I'd have a place of my own and enough cash to get by.
For five years.
A handful of tests and some assistance preparing a government agency to not fuck up more people who ended up in my trigger shoes and I get to five years of security to set up my own business?
I was almost giddy. With one wave of the governmental hand all of that misery had been- well not really worth it. But I hadn't fumbled the bag. Enduring had opened a door and I'd rather walk through it than leave empty handed. Some federal homework and free doctor trips was little price to pay.
Four thousand dollars a month! And not some spend it or lose it cash trap either. Forty big ones right into a federal credit union account in my name, starting next month. Right now I had a few hundreds on hand for when I finally got a chance to shop. There had to be something out there which could work to fit me. Tailoring things was going to be an expensive given.
With the right restraint that money was going to last me long enough to hopefully get that loft dream of not working for some money-man dominated industry off the ground.
And I now had the fully works. ID. Paper work. Citizenship. SSN. There were some more hoops but I'd even get some honorary degrees from the state university. Not that art degrees really did much. It was about the knowledge, okay? Papers I could flash if the internet wasn't as advanced into the crowd funded porn cycle as I hoped.
I slid my plastic into the basic black wallet they gave me and leapt into bed. The sheets weren't anything fancy but they welcomed me more than well enough. A soft, restful embrace that still felt new to this skin.
At last. At last! It was time.
Some easy phone setup was navigated first, menus bordered by all kinds of wryms and dragons were all fingered accordingly. My little mitts took some adjusting. There was no one handing a phone anymore Either I rest this brick on something or I had to hold it in one hand while using the screen with another. It felt weird from being able to grip a phone length wise in one hand to barely being able to hold it width wise.
But it was time!
No tests. No questioning. No lengthy expositing on the assorted average knowledge I had of Earth Yod's history and stakes. Not today.
From now until I felt like sleeping, time was mine.
I tucked myself into my sheets, propped my pillows just right, and got online.
The websites were immediately appealing, and not just in some long lost memories sort of way. Seeing youtube channels with copyrighted art in their backgrounds was nostalgic, damn it. Decoration. Style. Actual interfaces with taste! Web design used to aspire to more than functional minimalism.
I did a tour of anything that came to mind. The socials, the youtubes. Twitch was going surprisingly strong already with many IRL and Just Chatting reaction streamers. Yet when I checked game release schedules things were either all new or freakishly identical to what I remembered of 2013.
I kicked my feet in indulgent glee upon seeing Planetside 2 was active and thriving. But only on Earth Aleph? Some more googling revealed it was a bit of a norm for online games to necessitate a ping hit for Bet dwelling players to reach the servers, which were almost always in Aleph. Some Bet-only online games were around but they were smaller beans. Big hits got to Aleph.
Fifteen milliseconds sounded like an amazing feat for cross-dimensional cables, yet people whined endless anyway.
Some things were different however. Let's plays and early game grumps were going strong. Yet phone games seemed a few years advanced? Things that didn't come out until 2016 were already launched. I could see classics and sleeper titles like Battle Cats and Granblue Fantasy in their earliest stages. The Anila disaster hadn't even happened yet.
Cape news was omnipresent. Eight of the top ten IRL streams were walking around various cities, chattering about capes from afar or practically stalking them. The one lady in a thirst bait cleavage top was having her every suggestive joke gently parried by some twinkling armored man crisscrossed with darts and chains.
Nothing violent really happened, which was a bit of a relief. Wherever they were it seemed like heroes were more public relations specialists with a side gig of crime management as necessitated. What few brief snips of combat I saw were streamers in the middle of… critiquing cape combat? Ranking it?
Bizarre. Imagine getting mugged by some fucker and the only thing the guy who's filming it cares about is the power utilization of the man robbing you.
How did capes even factor into crime? Why would capes even do crime? Wasn't it just desperation? The key fuel for most crime?
But a few searches yielded no real answers. Capes just went out and caped all over the place.
It was PHO that revealed some more sides of things. Victoria had mentioned the site. Forum culture was still booming, which was another kick to my old lurker nostalgia. Sipping on the advice, happenings, and strong opinions of others from the safety of anonymity.
PHO was too much to grasp in one sitting.
News. Sorted by continent, country, state, and even city. Thousands of sub forums for each hotspot location. Brockton Bay alone had millions of comments spread over tens of thousands of posts. Thirty posts that had updated within the last five minutes.
So I backed out and dug into the larger information. History. Events. Concerns.
And it was awful. From footage that reminded me of tsunamis back home I watched as swaths of unnatural tides battered Kyushu. No video footage survived to the end. I looked to other places. Buildings thrown by invisible grip. Lighting rolling along skyscrapers in New York City on decades old grainy footage.
I didn't look much more.
Monsters. Endbringers.
They took a few months between hits and never attacked the same place again? Out of sight and out of mind. I couldn't do a damn thing about lethargic doomsday monsters and if Earth Bet was still ticking strong enough after over two decades of roaming disasters? Then that was a problem for someone who could find a solution.
Still, it took some brain rot to numb the unease of my stomach. After a half-hour of cat videos and gamer highlights of the top moba of the era, Dota 2, I was feeling better.
I needed to know some about the local scene, right? Local being art and staying safe in this powered world. Cape stuff that mattered was only whoever was in or near the Bay. Stranger danger type shit. Anything art scene-wise was online.
I started with art. A comfy subject.
Rudimentary searching confirmed a lot of my favorite games were around. Zelda was here but Splatoon wasn't out yet. Wow was kicking, the old staple, and was a year out from its cemented decline with its next expansion.
That was great news. A lot of my usual vectors for popular lewds already existed. The rest would probably come out in the next decade. Nier, splatoon, assorted pokemon that hadn't debut yet. I had some staples to wait for the rest. Midna has here!
If only star fox wasn't somehow a dead series still. Karmically, wasn't I owed some wins?
Outside steps and voices caught my ear. The thirty-twos who were struggling with their changes were staying here. The hall was kept quiet, for their sake, which was good for me. They must be going off to some therapist or another.
The PRT was trying, I had to give them that. Apparently quite a few thirty-twos were already back out there in society and I did not envy the challenges we'd soon be sharing. I looked over my shoulder.
I'd long rolled over onto my front to browse, phone on my pillow, shifting my position as lazy day comfort demanded. The only way this didn't squish my nuts was with some splayed legs. All of that competing mass and movement had my shorts pulled perilously taut. One rock of the hips sent mountains of ass quaking. Muscles coated in fat pulling upon my bones in a fascinating show of fleshy wealth.
The sort of thing that would pop eyes out when I walked down a street. And I'd be the star of the show. My heart wrenched with sickly reluctance, but there was nothing for it.
Oh well. I'd beat the creeps off with a stick later. Go outside only as necessary. I had a lot of practice with that. The one thing I couldn't fix was that dummy thick hips did not like side sleep at all. My spine started to get uncomfortable fast without some pillows to prop my upper torso. More than I had.
In the middle of my study on the recent decline of the Bay I felt something twinge that made me freeze. Internal muscles clenched and my shorts surged in reaction.
'Its just an article summarizing a common power classifications - why?!'
The insistence didn't abate. It pushed. Against sheet and mattress. Against my clothes.
I flipped over, getting increasingly constrained by these already horrible shorts. The growth continued. For lack of a better alternative I shoved the waist band down enough to let my dick flop out.
A why boner, now? Of all times? I'd been outright avoiding scouting the porn art scene partially because I had to abstain for the rest of the week so why tempt fate. And because this was government wifi. Yet this dick was pulsing beneath my eyes. Like an animal. Every wrinkle and roll moved, swelled and unfurled. Like a sausage being stuffed. It made its way along, glistening fluids starting from its tip.
I grabbed some tissues and threw them onto the tip. And more onto my shirt then settled in on my back and ignored the flaming awkwardness of it all. I ignored the door and the voices just beyond. And ignored more how my dick strained and squeezed. How veins pulsed and shifted.
My ears were full of my pounding heartbeat. My skin flushed.
A thought slapped me and Shadow rushed over to click the lock on my door. I let my breath out and settled.
I browsed for distraction. No topic was slowing it down. The financial reports did nothing.
I'd have to wait it out.
As I skimmed an article on major cape groups who'd risen and fallen around the world I tried to not eye the swelling black monster approaching my chin. I just laid more tissue. Mostly to keep the smell off.
The downfall of the ABB did nothing either. Not seeing how some top dog parahuman got done in. Not even a report that some bug cape had scraped out the guys eyes. Or some teleporter going on the run. Instead my dick surged in memory of Doctor Lee and that joke she'd made in her introduction. No relation indeed.
In a minute this cock had gone from at ease to arm dwarfing in its girth.
'Come on body, be reasonable. I don't even remember where her office is, let alone intend to saunter down there and advertise you to the whole fucking PRT!'
For the true brain of the male body, my penis was immune to reason. Instead, with the full size now shoving its way into my prime phone space above my sternum I had no choice but to hold my dick to the side.
Just the touch was distracting. Even through tissues. But I scrolled on.
This was half willpower and half knowing I had nowhere to blow a load that wasn't going to lead to a disaster. Either this thing went down or my life was going to explode.
Some finagling let me use both hands. It was a bit squishy. Not even at its final form. Yet it was pressed against my left tit.
I ignored the appeals of so much foreshortening to study and dug into my phone. I didn't have much paper to spare anyway.
Nazi capes. How tacky and not at all a surprise. Drug problems. Cape meme contests.
Each sub forum had an archive of useful threads for tracking events. Brockton Bay's forum had a dense archive.. Much more reliably interesting than the hundred active threads speculating and rumormongering. No doubt a couple crummy pictures of me might be in that PRT activity tracker thread. They shouldn't see much, given the sea of legs I was behind. Anyway, all of that current stuff was going to have to wait for me to know how things got there.
I did throw some of those threads into a second tab group to browse later.
Seems like the big threat was some once small time gang that started punching above its weight and just didn't stop. Bugs? I could believe it. The very idea of that swarm gave me full body shivers. Her and her eyeball collection. But of course my dick persisted through the initial blow of the ick despite being a raging, bricked up sweet spot itself.
Smugbug? The fuck was that? But upon seeing it was an archived thread dedicated to tracking increasing evidence the two leading ladies of the Undersiders were potentially lesbian lovers made me flick away with haste. Who knew what that topic would do to this dumb cock, regardless of my feelings on the matter.
They're fucking criminals, what did this meat stick think was going to happen? I'd never talk to either of them in my life. The closest we'd get to interacting would be them hearing me scream for the hills, peepers preserved.
And how were that many people willing to risk life and limb around violent superpowered criminals just to try and snap a shot of them holding hands again? Why did an officially achieved thread have an online pastebin of those prior glimpse of finger fondling?!
And then there was an older article on various independent cape deaths in the earlier decade and what that said about gang violence.
Were people just that desperate to enjoy anything that they fixated on whatever light hearted shit they found?
Worn by the heavy topics and casualty numbers and economic downturn that had hit the bay for over a decade I abandoned my hopes that somber reality could weigh this cock down. I turned to more mindless topics.
After an hour this beast finally began to flag. The casualties? Two dozen tissues drizzled with precum. A room permeated with a smell not rank yet penetrating. Persistent. A scent that screamed sex. I turned on the scent device that had been in the room, something to help distill the air for the sake of the thirty-twos.
Some faint cry from doors away came, "Who the fuck is masturbating?"
Fuck! I should have turned it on from the start! I was an idiot!
More voices came. That shame finally kicked my dick to turtle up enough to be clothing friendly again and I stuffed it away at haste. By the time furry-eared persons started squabbling in the hall my filter was making work and I was halfway to the cafeteria with a growling stomach and my empty plates.
If I was walking with some awkward urgency and a flushed green face, no one called me out on it.
This wasn't so bad, I'd just have to hide out whenever the mood hit. Manageable. Entirely doable.
Once I had my own space I'd be set! Easy peasy. Just a few days away.
Nothing to worry about.
'Oh my god. I'm the desperate kinky freak.'
The night had not gone well.
I'd awoken to holding my own dick like a comfort object. Curled in on it with arms and legs. My face was still sticky with its produce, the smell clung to my senses. The circus tent I was sleeping in, an adult large Shadow Stalker t-shirt, had soaked up a huge swatch of precum down its whole front. I chose firmly to think that my dreams of stripes and fluffy orange cheeks had nothing to do with my night apparel.
I'd thrown my cock out and laid out on my back. Tissues scattered around me soaking up what I could of the mess. My meat wobbled upright. Glistening and annoying the fuck out of me.
I'd tried to wait it out. It had worked both additional times throughout the day. Give an hour, lose a boner. Keep my dignity.
This was worse. Almost medically concerningly worse. Aches and pains outside of the norm was cause for health concerns but I didn't know what my norm was! This huge, throbbing thing was sore in a way that was almost delicious yet was far too much to sleep through.
It was like a time bomb strapped to my sopping cunt, which was another batch of nerves baying for attention. I only had the bandwidth for one raging set of genitalia bombarding my mind.
I was doing everything I could to not clench down because-
Precum blasted to the ceiling and joined the mess. The cock wobbled like a pillar and pulled at my crotch and balls as its weight swayed this way and that way. An animal rutting to burst.
Tissue was too flimsy to fully constrain those shots and my hands were soaked from trying.
My air purifier was at maximum. It wasn't enough. My room was toxic with dick stink.
It was almost five am. Two hours of restful sleep, gone. Two hours without anything to look at but this raging phallus. I hadn't dared to go wash my hands so I could use my phone without slathering it in dick slime. The nearest sink was well away from my room.
Something had to be done. The clenching was coming faster and I knew why. These testes were almost alive with strain, the backs throbbing with urgent pricks of near-pain.
Ejaculation wasn't a want but a where. Where the mess was going to happen. And I was running out of time before dawn.
I got to my feet and set off on the course. As shrouded as I could manage.
Shadow rose beneath my, lift me with her bulk and helped me glide along in silence.
The outside air was no cooler yet my skin goosebumped with abandon. I leaned at my doorway, dick jutting into the hall. My ears and eyes turned to every doorway.
The bathrooms were close. Too close. Something further into the building, away from sensitive noses might be better.
My towering ears strained, gathering any sign of person. And found many.
Keyboards were clacking and boots were stepping. Every minute echo caught by the desperate attention of these ears. A night shift, because of course. I already knew they had a night shift!
Who was I kidding, anyone was going to notice once I was done.
Ice swept my system, but it only made the stiffening erection ache more desperately. This was happening, regardless of my say.
So this must be what the condemned feel. Shadow carried me to the nearest bathroom.
In the furthest stall, the handicap one, I stripped my night shirt. Shadow draped it on the rail.
I took in my majesty, rigid and proud in what it had doomed me to.
In a federal building.
'Please don't let this be against the law.'
Every shift or pulse of my heart spurred a wave of lustful reactions in the whole of this meaty thing. Veins pulsed. Skin slid over turgid meat. It was a flood of sensations. An absurd penis meant for size queens I doubt lived on this world. A third fucking leg that I could probably hit the floor with, though that said more about how short I was.
The Rockettes kicking a third leg like this in the air would be a different sort of act.
I held it. And it leapt, responding to my touch with a strong compulsive clench.
That- Whoa that felt new!
Panicked, I scrambled closer to the toilet and nearly smacked the wall with my dick's head. Right, the sheer size of it. I stepped back and fought the thing on target. It wanted to aim upwards and outwards, like a bridge that wouldn't bend. It clenched and leapt constantly, rapidly.
The head bulged and realization bloomed alongside. A mighty clench filled me with sensation. I let go and let it leap for the ceiling. It smacked my front, and nearly winded me. It held there for a breath.
What a hit of endorphins that was. Every bump of the head popped into form in a moment. Blood rushed to where it needed to be. My dick evolving into its utmost state.
Flared. Absolute and iron.
The cock sagged, bending as barely as it allowed, swayed up and down by its own weight and my regular, compulsive clenchings.
That weight- that head. I could feel every molecule of air that pushed over that swollen head.
I was left ragged, numb in my extremities. My very legs felt at once more and yet distant. An errant touch lit my skin like signal fire. Any gust of air the same. Yet whenever I was still, unstimulated, my cock rammed through my nerves, full of sensation, ready to shout its needs and desires through my mind.
I grabbed hold anew and pumped. The squish was gone, only the natural give of the skin remained. The possibility of stopping further and further from mind with each stroke.
My heart beat louder through my palms than in my chest. As if I were just a tiny mobile host for a vast penile parasite.
My hands were meek. A double fist not even possible. Like stroking off a bazooka. But desperation made everything richer. I could feel it in the core of my balls.
This would do.
More. My brain answered. A dozen visualizations of butts I'd seen throughout the day. It didn't matter if they were military dressed or in bomb gear. Or if they were real.
I beat on. Harder. Feverish. My palms and fingers yanked up and down more of the beast. The whole of it.
Every pass over the ring made my hands skip and my ass squirm. It was a strong feeling and a fun feature. Was it cartilage? Flesh? I didn't care to know. It was stiff and full of happy, tingling surges of fire whenever I passed it over.
The flare was worse. Almost too much to touch. My body trembled at every contact.
But stopping was long impossible.
The room was growing dark, narrow. My eyes fixated on the prize.
Soon. Soon…
Soon!
White my vision. A pillar of purity that erred, ricocheting ropes of white along the rim and far wall.
I shoved as hard I could. The bowl took the next jet. The bowl shattered the spear of my ejaculate. Water filled with dozens upon dozens of scattering, swirling, jelly thick strands bleeding their speed into the water. Stray shards of the stuff blasted out and battered my front. Sporadic conical bursts between huge ropes of the stuff soaked the seat because I was too distant.
The toilet- How had it gotten further way?
My sweaty feet!
Shadow gripped my ankles, and kept me from sliding further. Rooted to the ground I continued, my pelvis full of pressure and need. I wobbled, stance uncertain, but found new purchase with desperate scrabbling.
My testicles pressed against my cock, scrotum scrunched tight to lift them.
One buck was too intense. My pumping grip too loose-
A full burst splattered the back wall before I could right course.
I held on and witnessed devastation.
I washed my hands twice, just to try and put the feeling of turgid, slick flesh that lingered on my fingers out of mind. Then I leaned on the sink and breathed. The cold was grounding. Comforting. A stabilizing pillar against the still reeling sea of sensation within.
My pelvis was almost numb from the waves of fuzzy, near numb sensation still fading away.
Sleep sounded so good right now.
But that was an impossibility.
I was drenched in the evidence of my guilt. Like half of my payload had escaped the plumbing.
The full trashcan had gotten most of my clinging, thick gunk off the back wall and toilet. A dozen absurd burst had splattered it everywhere but it was mostly stray ropes. Not the thick coating that hung from the immediate blast zone.
I'd tried to get it all cleaned down. Wiped away. Stuffed into the can and pressed flat to fit more.
But the evidence remained. And I was out of towels.
My almost sweet musk was everywhere. My front was soaked with cold water from scrubbing off my collateral bukkake. From face to thighs. And that hadn't cleaned everything, just enough for the stains to seem like water.
No amount of soap on my hands banished the animal scent from my nose. Nor did washing my dick off in the sink.
I had nowhere to dump the trash. Eventually a janitor would know.
And I my mind lingered on the act instead of the problem.
Life changing ecstasy? A shame I'd carry to my grave? I'd decide once the heart attack had passed.
Aftershocks of bliss still ebbed along my person. Every step a reminder of how insistently stiff my nipples still were, every Shadow assisted sink trip I caught how my skin was seeping through the wet t-shirt I was stuck with.
At least the beast was finally at rest, slack between my legs and compacting back into a wrinkled up dick tube. Taking its sweat time to get travel sized.
These fat horse nuts had cooked up an eight course mess. Enough that the loss of weight was notable, in some collected corner of my boggling mind.
Not that the volume had been all too otherworldly. But you didn't need a whole gallon of paint to mess up a few walls.
The pit digging through my stomach bottomed out. There was no getting out of this unnoticed. I'd held a faint hope. A concerned citizen who helped keep a secret, Victoria- no. That would be horrible. And my phone was in my room. Explaining everything and asking her to lie to the government for me?
I planned to deal with this myself.
But there were no cleaning chemicals to use and just offhand say I had an accident in my sleep or something. No way to sell a story less embarrassing than the truth. I'd rather tell them I'd puked from that twelfth pizza slice than this. But no one with a mundane nose would believe me.
I'd blown all of my luck that the hyper sensitive neighbors hadn't stormed in to see who had bombed the bathroom.
I couldn't let anyone know.
Yet…
No janitor deserved to deal with this.
'How do I ask for cleaning supplies?'
There were none in here. Which made sense, I guess. Don't want random kids getting into chemicals. But that left me confronting a real pickle.
'I really don't want to have to ask.'
Shadow lowered me back to within chin resting distance of the sink. Otherwise called standing on the floor. She was squirming fiercely at my feet but that only made the anxiety worse. Her movements just made my feelings more real.
I couldn't just sneak back to bed and play innocent in an hour or two.
No one could doubt this had been someone's impromptu goon cave. No one would need to guess who.
But asking for supplies was admitting the deed as well.
I got under a hand drier and let it blast my front. Dry cotton wouldn't cling so suggestively. Or let my flesh peak through. A shower was not possible. People would be stirring any minute. I had to get this cleaned fast.
And I didn't want to spoil another shirt with what remained on my skin.
This had to be done. But I walked with as much reluctance as could still be named motion.
"And should this urge hit again you will be similarly responsible for any similar outcome. Both in cleaning and in case of unfortunate testing results."
I nodded rapidly. "Yes sir, ma'am."
Director Piggot had taken the news with the stiff front of a storm wall and mundanely flicked on surprisingly potent ventilation system that ran quietly as she talked. Or I assumed she'd taken the news well. I hadn't looked at her much for the whole conversation. Just yammering the admission out had made my teeth go numb for a minute. Cold fear wasn't something I'd felt before so slap that into the reference book.
Somehow inquiring for cleaning supplies meant the Director had to know. Because she was up at six in the morning. Didn't that bring on the guilt.
'Sorry ma'am, know you're trying to keep hundreds of thousands of people safe from powered manaics, but where do you keep the cumstain remover?'
Just staying in bed with the boner might have been better. Then I wouldn't have 'potentially contaminated' a public space. Just my room.
I'd nearly ran from her office once I was dismissed.
My poor stomach was growling the whole way back, starving for an early breakfast. I'd been eating more and all that Doc Lee could suggest via my phone texts was power expression. Apparently a recently deceased ward had something similar.
I hadn't asked any follow up questions after that. Hurt was lurking beneath a lot of skin here and it didn't paint a good picture of what the city had been through. I felt forced into a minefield and my best empathetic maneuvers were back pats and hugs. The latter reserved for family and friends.
Like turning a child with cartoon bandaids loose on a trauma ward. I wasn't going to fix this shit.
Having her on the contacts list was kinda nice. I still had no idea where her office was on this labyrinth. By fucking design.
I walked with speed back to the scene of the crime. Two Troopers were at the entry way and their glances froze my veins.
Oh they knew. They totally knew. Holding my night tee out to hide my far-too-satisfied cock I hustled inside. I was already chilled with anxiety and electric thrills from having run through much of their base in just my jumbo t-shirt. Being seen, even by contour? Too much. Thank fuck this shirt went past my knees.
I had a task to distract myself with and one I needed done fast.
Covert cleaning.
It was just spunk! Sperm!
But government agencies wanted concrete answers. Piggot emphasized that trigger changes always related to powers so everything was cause for suspicion until proven otherwise. They needed to confirm things and I wanted to make sure my dick wasn't some covert power effect.
And since I made the mess I was the safest option to clean it.
I mean, really, I thought it was just horniness. But some local guy had narcotic sweat that didn't affect him any. He could only have found out by drugging another person the first time he shook a hand. How awful.
I wasn't about to blast this nut cannon at someone, but what if a stray sperm cell knocked someone out on the john? They'd just tumble over and crack their heads!
I could get sued for irresponsible power use! From beating off in a bathroom!
So I'd consented to some testing on my output and tried not to think about what that entailed.
No piss test had ever shriveled my testicles like handing baggied vials of my goop into a PRT Trooper's containment box. I'd seen cancer medication with less protective plastic than what I'd shoved those vials into. And some black cloth bag that glimmered like nothing I could name to boot.
Director Piggot had promised some discretion and I'd thanked her profusely for it. But she'd valued caution above my feelings. If I hadn't spilled all of this in her facility she could have cut me slack, gone about letting me find the potential hazards of my changes on my own time. But now it was in the pipes. They had filtration but apparently powers could do some crazy shit.
The toilet didn't look etched by acidic cum stains so maybe I was fine.
It was only just now sinking in that I might not get in any trouble for this. I'd just been directed to use a more isolated facility for any future struggles until my apartment was ready, something that was now getting speedup.
A side toilet.
You know, once they confirmed my goop was just semen.
The guards at the door had no idea why they were here. But they were still there to keep people out of the bathroom until it was confirmed safe. The bathroom I was cleaning. While struggling to keep my sleep wear from contouring my various assets like a cotton highlighter.
No one was watching but every time I dunked this massive glove into whatever chemical this was to soak my sponge, I caught a glimpse of my tremendous ass eating my shirt. Or noticing the hem riding up, usually because my balls were suddenly getting that ac breeze directly.
And they didn't have anything near the size of my hand, so the plastic fingers were half full and mostly useless, with the pinky flopping around unutilized. But I wasn't putting my bare skin into this bucket.
All of this scrubbing motion put just too much of my body into distracting jiggling and heavy swaying. Dick and nuts flopping and scraping against shirt and thighs more than my damage sponge on the wall.
I yanked my shirt back into place a dozen times. To little point, since no one walked in on me. But I felt better knowing my jumbo ass wasn't getting waved about for some potential voyeur.
Then I slapped my face with my ungloved hand bit a knuckle to keep from screaming.
I was such a fucking idiot… or maybe I'd blasted some of my brains out with that orgasm. There were moments where I couldn't tell if I'd gone blind or passed out.
Shadow got the rest cleaned fine while I sat on a dry sink. Her form was entirely unbothered by the chemicals, though her little pinch hold on the sponge took some working to get right. Had to give enough resistance to the sponge to really scrub stuff. But just placing it then adjusting her finger tips to press it to the wall worked, mostly. I still had to deal with the tight crevices of the plumbing personally.
I'd wiped enough that my smell was gone from every surface. Mary Poppins would be proud of my meticulous scrubbing. Any functioning adult kept their homes clean so I was practiced with wiping gross places. The PRT ran a clean ship, too, so most of what I was wiping down was my own mess.
Getting my nose away from all of the stink was another motivator.
This was a worrying foretelling of my struggles to come. How could I custom order basic shit like protecting wear in my size? How much time was I going to spend beating off? Could I ever get good enough do more than spray and pray to avoid cleaning everything every time?
The waxing discomfort of my disaster zone being inspected by a Trooper before I'd be allowed to leave was another kick in my desire to set this behind me.
When my job was confirmed done I left at speed for the showers and got into today's clown suit of mishmashed merch.
The cafeteria was abuzz. Interest in the abnormal parahuman hadn't faded. I was quite aesthetic, to be fair. I'd rather they be thoughtful and not stare. People kept their distance, hopefully out of politeness, but the attention was still too much for me.
With an assortment of eggs and other common breakfast items I retreated to the temporary living spaces.
Ears turned my way, followed by eyes. Some followed their noses.
The smell had been scoured from the bathroom but some faintly lingered in the communal hall, despite the ac circulating the air out.
They didn't say anything where I could hear them. Some were polite enough to look away. Others held nasal protective covers designed to reduce stimulus and shot me accusatory glares.
Maybe I should have gone further afield after all. But the very idea of being caught in the act-
I hurried along and tightened my lips. Stuffing face was a good way to pretend indifference and distraction. Some people sorted stress by socializing and empathizing. I just wanted to bury myself in my new phone and zone out. I had a whole bay of power slinging threats to continue reading up on.
So of course someone walked up. A bear-strained thirty-two woman. One of the more intensely changed people. Those scars were acquired after the fact. I hadn't asked how after she'd just calmly said her family had been escaping through the docks. They'd made it and it was clear why.
Despite all of the fuzz, her eyes were thoroughly human. Stooped as she was by her increased mass and power.
I was positively tiny in comparison. And wearing much worse clothes. The PRT had weeks to source better wear for any bodily changes. But I was such an outlier that nothing they'd rush ordered for adults or children fit me.
How she kept her distance for my comfort drove home the soul behind the wheel. She was more than together enough to rejoin society and family. Yet she stayed around.
"Good morning Erika."
She somehow made that toothy smile warm. And she remembered my name completely well despite me being shut in my new room all yesterday. A few passing nods and some words was all it took her. Meanwhile, I'd repeated her name a half hundred times to drill it in. Just like everybody else.
"G'morning Samantha."
"I won't keep you, I just wanted to say we've set up some internal group sharing to help sort out any feelings or compulsions our changes have given us. Your circumstances are a bit different but we're all dealing with sensory load and the odd impulse or two. The first meeting is tonight, after the day trip, if you're interested."
"Oh. I'll think about it some. I guess. Uh, thanks."
Samantha nodded gently and waved again before walking away.
Ugh. I probably should go. But the very idea was draining. A whole circle of people.
And it was today, too, instead of giving me like a week to prepare myself.
That did mean less time to scrounge up dread for basic socializing. Woooo….
I ducked into my tight box room to check myself over and make sure nothing was hugging tight. Frump was an ally in these trying times.
With my plates on my mattress I hopped into bed and kicked off my shoes to indulge.
I'd already started looking for an ideal second hand art tablet. New was something for people with reliable income. And would take longer to show up. Tech had apparently been obliterated down town as some maniac band of murders dashed through the city. Now there were a hundred memes a minute about how nothing can survive Brockton Bay, not even decades old mass murderers. While a thousand more forum goers debated the intent of 'Shatterturd' not maiming as many people as she usually does with her complete control over glass and silicon.
Being killed by my own pc? There was a nightmare.
But she was toasted, as was almost everyone else in that ugly legacy. Dead, imprisoned, or annoying enough to go on the run. I'd happily think of those monsters as little as possible.
They'd hurt a lot of people but I'd showed up late enough to dodge most of the bullets by default. Only by the nature of one of their powers did they manage to snipe my profession and clear the bay of new art tablets. Any replacements had been low on the priority list for everything being shipped into the Bay, even a month later. Apparently things were rather fucked, but mending? I'd look into it more after today's outing. I already had enough stress and the PRT wouldn't encourage people to go anywhere dangerous, right?
Anyway, art career. The sooner I was drawing the sooner I was advertising my skills. A couple weeks and some luck would probably bring in a commissioner or two. You didn't need more than a few hundred followers so long as people liked what you were doing.
Demand is what helped pricing get sustainable. People competing for the artist's time more than sheer quality, though that helped.
I'd rather just make stuff I liked, but I liked affording food. And damn did this body need a lot of it. And I'd need way more money than what the PRT was giving me. But I had time.
Welp, the goal was to get a patreon thing going by the end of the year. Now that this whole PRT scare had passed and the ground was beneath my feet I could at least hope for that much before the next disaster showed up.
I'd been through a lot and was still breathing. I felt prepared to ride out whatever happened.
AN: Somehow in the editing process my chapters keep getting longer. But we're getting through all of the set up step by step! Going to start seeing things leap a bit more with each chapter from here on as what's necessary for Erika's life to get fucked up (sexually) is in place. Next chapter does not have a single scene in the PRT building and will introduce the first lady who is going to help Erika start growing into her potential. The one woman in the Bay who can handle all of that until Erika gets her hands on some assistance. Though I am thinking of a couple pairings where they get a go before those resources are available.
This was a field trip. Crawling down the street with two dozen animal eared peers and caroused by PRT troops, minders, and a few wards? This couldn't be anything but. Going to a museum or the zoo as a kid didn't involve whatever those not-guns did.
With how my first time outdoors in days had me anxious, I welcomed them.
Victoria had checked in on me, but she was in the chaperon group and had higher priority recent victims to be a shoulder for. Which left me in a sea of people I didn't know. I was anxious, but also what was there to say? Some people fled inside just from the smells of outdoor air assailing them. Others only managed because they'd deafened their ears with custom plugs. They were struggling.
I could relate. Sensory overload was hitting me a bit too with more information on the local biome than I ever wanted. I managed. Springing a boner with nowhere to wait it out was a bigger worry. If my cock wasn't feeling so contented I wouldn't be risking such an extended outing away from any privacy possible.
Seeing Gallant's emotion powers help some ride out the anxiety of their new instincts was nifty. That was some real heroism. And he explained that his tinker whatever effect was only temporary constantly. People seemed to stabilize well after it wore off though. Maybe the calm helped them process the information overload some?
He took their gratitude in stride. Their relief was too palpable to not appreciate.
Our procession brought a wealth of attention. And attention meant phones recording.
And, unfortunately, way too many of them were pointed my way.
Maybe it was a good thing for me to tank most of the attention. Nobody around me was enjoying being the focus of the public. I didn't either, but I'd also ruined everyone's morning.
I stuffed my hands deeper in my kangaroo pouch. I'd have my hoodie around my hips, but this was still the best I had for wearing outdoors. Even if the purple of the shadow stalker tee was fetching the idea of wearing hero merch felt risky. Like proclaiming an allegiance in a gang war.
That was probably unfounded ignorance, but whatever. Extra caution hurt nobody.
And some carefully extended fist work did a much better job masking the Bulge. Like hell I was going to let someone get my package on film, even behind two layers of fabric.
And yes that made walking awkward. I felt like some moody teenager, in large part because of my height. Being a literal naval gazer was not a quick adjustment. On the other side I could probably Heimlich someone by just headbutting their diaphragm. Potentially. Some limits were not meant to be tested but the possibility was there.
Most of us flinched as a car with no muffler revved its engine. Traffic had been scarce, roads worn, but dense commerce areas had been paved. Fresh.
"Fucking asshole-" some wolf-eared business woman bit out. She'd just been picked up last night, I think. Some people were less enthused about coming to the PRT for help and just toughed it out. I could relate.
"Yeah, that was pretty bad," I agreed hesitantly.
She scowled, teeth long, and shifted to the other side of the group. Her muttering was easy enough to hear.
Yeah, as if you never jilled yourself off lady-
I entertained ideas of barking back but nothing I liked would come of it. And my face was too busy heating up because yet another person seemed to have put together what had happened this morning.
Which was probably why Samantha had made sure to talk to me, too. Ugh. I should just appreciate the honest consideration.
"Think we'll ever get used to getting stared at?"
The guy speaking, frankly, already seemed to. Big easy going guy and all. A college aged guy, if I had to guess. Bear ears and a large grin. The features melded with the human, less Smokey the bear and more uncanny with slight beady-feeling eyes thanks to the dark sclera.
I gave as much a smile as my fading angry embarrassment could muster.
"By necessity, yeah. But if they try to talk I'll probably run back to the base."
He gave a laugh that was a bit too loud, but I wouldn't peg as forced.
I was quickly called on my bluff.
They were rough. But clean. Both girls wore scuffed up jeans, holes natural, not stylish.
But their smiles were more kind and enthusiastic, even if they sent frequent glances at the black armored figures escorting us along. And as was inevitable, being close meant I had to look way up to meet their eyes.
"Hey! Can we get a selfie? Our cape collection's been on pause and all but we're trying to pick it back up."
One was even ready, phone in hand, but wasn't moving to put me in frame. That made this only a marginally uncomfortable ambush.
I struggled with my words but managed "I'm not really a cape sort of parahuman."
That proved only a minor pause for their enthusiasm. "Pre-debute is cool, too. That's pretty rare to see. PRT doesn't like to let newbies out untrained."
They laughed a bit. It wasn't an unfriendly sound. More welcoming. But a bit difficult, like they hadn't done it much recently.
Victoria swooped in and gave me a look of blanket support and encouragement. I'd love her to rescue me, but I also needed to learn how to juggle this attention since Shadow was going to be a constant highlighter of my new status.
Both cape fans didn't quite seem to notice what that look was for, as they just seemed even more expectant.
Victoria had taken me aside and coached me on setting expectations and to not expect people to get the memo quickly. As a force public figure, learning to manage people would theoretically help the nerves. Eventually.
Though a part of me would always prefer someone else sort out a mess I never asked for.
"Sorry, but I'm not really planning to be a cape. I'd rather not do selfies with anyone."
No excuses was the main thing. Just state it plain. As much as I felt a need to explain I stayed quiet and let the air hang. Or imply instead of being direct and confrontational, like my first response.
They were rather understanding, though a bit bewildered. A few questioning and confused looks were thrown my way as they left. And not just from the cape fan duo.
"Way to go, Erika. Nothing to it!"
There was a lot more than nothing but Victoria gave me a thumbs up and went back to circling the herd, looking for people struggling with this or that. Smells were especially bad. The salt stink was fighting with the lingering crisp of fresh baked asphalt from somewhere out of sight.
Bear guy was chatting a simple, stilted, but still living conversation with the earlier wolf lady. She seemed almost equally spiteful with him as she had with me. Nothing I felt like tangling with.
I pulled in some air, feeling where particulates built up more in my nostrils.
North northeast?
A faint click. Some tool across the road had their phone out. Another click was centered on me.
A man, one whose expression gave me an instinctive shiver. I couldn't place why.
His third captured my discomforted face before I could slip into the crowd and put some of these PRT uniforms and troops between me and that creep. I could only tolerate so much.
From through the press of bodies I could see his lust turn to frustration, without a shred of self-awareness. The entitlement wasn't a surprise. But that didn't lessen the violation of it. And what would I do? March out and deal with him? Threaten him?
Like I was about to give him a close up. I couldn't delete shit off his phone anyway.
Instead of dwelling on something I had no power to avert, I took in the city. In all of its gruesome wonder.
Had the ABB bombing campaign been that bad? That was the most recent state of the city I'd gotten up to. Looking for how powers had even started had taken up most of yesterday, with the disappointing results at every turn.
Hollywood cgi didn't really grasp the full extent of ruin in those disaster flicks. Not how pipes or insulation or furnishings spilled out like innards from a wound.
Restoration efforts had cut swaths from where the devastation was worst, but the few buildings where…something had barreled through them remained punctured and crumbling. Ice crawled over my flesh.
I'd never seen anything like this. I could just walk over and… through that building. Wholly different to popcorn destruction from behind the screen.
No one else was surprised. They barely spared a teetering three story office building a glance before ignoring it. Others on the street gave it a birth. A block away a crew was dismantling a similar building. They'd get to the others soon, I guess.
"We weren't much of a city but it used to be better, you know?"
I blinked. A bunny girl? She was fuzzed up in the face with white fur and that same white was bleeding into her hair, growing from her scalp to consume warm brown curls. Unlike everyone else present she had only head and shoulders over me. A tiny woman.
And she was indulging in her petite potential.
She'd found many places for bows, having gone beyond just her pastel clothes to also put one around each of her ears roots. She was, in a word, cute. And the only person trying to emphasize their new animal features whatsoever.
My lack of reply as I took her in made her fidget and continue, desperate to fill the noise. "You seemed in shock so I figured you'd like to know- I can leave you alone if you want?"
I shook my head.
"It's fine. I was just overwhelmed, I think." And it was kind of nice to talk to someone where eye contact didn't require breaking my neck. And this was a chance to get an idea of what I was now living in. "…What happened? Was this some parahuman thing?"
Obvious water damage and torn up buildings. Was that just exposure after someone had gone bowling with semi-trucks? Or something about that size.
Bunny girl lost a bit of her cheer. People around gave me the side eye, as if I hadn't done my best to explain I was from another Earth whenever asked. Not that many did. The shadow beneath my feet seemed to spook people, being all dark and constantly moving.
I must have trod something more taboo. A dread inkling emerged, a possibility. I didn't want to voice it.
"Leviathan hit us. He got fought off just before he could sink the city."
That- what? The two-three cities a year monstrosities had hit here? I could have been kidnapped into a watery grave instead of a soaked down back alley? If things had been just a touch different?
I looked through a building we passed, tunneled out by a hulking form and cleared of its interior.
As if a gigantic linebacker had said fuck your property and dove shoulder first through five stories. In one moment an entire spectrum of fears became real.
A few breaths passed before I asked the pertinent question.
"It's gone for good, right? That's how they work?"
There was no reason for it. None anyone had found. But decades of evidence still showed a pattern of behavior. New York hadn't been touched since Behemoth. Nor any other city that had survived contact.
"From here, yeah." Madison threw a glance around. "Endbringers aren't really any good to talk about. Brockton survived and they don't hit the same city twice. We'll keep on living. So at least that's going well, right?"
I nodded and cycled that firm fact around my mind. Brockton Bay was safe. No apocalypse beasts for us.
Relief didn't come as quickly as I like. She noticed.
"Sorry, just, we wouldn't be outside if an Endbringer was around-"
"Way to go, kid. You dropped the meandering apocalypse on the blissfully unaware." That humored drawl came from that bear guy from earlier. "She's right, though. Don't sweat what no one can do anything about. We've got decades before one of those monsters will come this way again. And Legend will blast them away just like this time."
"Alexandria probably did more." Bunny Girl had an insistent heat in her voice, one she seemed almost surprised by. "And I've been in college for two years."
"And I'm not unaware, I read about them some. I just hadn't gotten around to the Bay's most recent news." I didn't sound indignant. And I had been close! That bombing campaign had been just weeks ago and new gangs were taking advantage of a recovering city. It wasn't too farfetched to think that the serial superpowered bomber was why the city was in tough straights.
"Sorry about that." Bear guy just shrugged, warmth in his beadier eyes. Then a sly grin slipped back towards the bunny girl. "Still, Alexandria'd just get pinned without backup. Or thrown around. See. Think that's one of hers?"
A particularly large chunk of pavement was carved out, deep into the packed dirt beneath. If it wasn't on a delivery lane to a boarded up business it probably would have been filled and paved back over. The frenzy of reconstruction was going strong for this downtown area but they probably had a priorities list.
"Doesn't matter-"
The two continued on for a bit. Another person on the street struggled to get an angle on me with their phone. I almost raised my Shadow to obscure them, but that would be all kinds of bad. I'd frighten the thirty-twos, who were already struggling with the sensory overload. The PRT Troops would get cross. And that freak with the camera probably would love to see whatever my powers could do.
I just tucked behind the Bear Guy, who shifted to obscure more of the latest phone prick. Some thirty-twos were flipping the finger at whoever stared too long.
How fast my energy for attention had burnt away.
"Thanks…" Public spaces… I needed to get onto private property soon. "How far is this strip mall?"
"Cedar Slates? Like another five minutes by foot."
Bunny girly had been eyeing me the whole time. It was hard not to notice. I turned to her and she withered a bit. "Sorry, I've been staring a lot." She gestured at her upright ears. "Focusing on people speaking or music helps me wash out all of the background noise."
I nodded, not really sure if I'd looked offended or something. She'd been eyeing my Shadow but I didn't want to make a big deal of it. "I haven't really tried music yet. But I used to have tinnitus, before I got shrunk, so I'm pretty good at phasing out unimportant sound."
That was actually one of the nicer things about this change. No more ringing ears. A pleasant happenstance, though I'd kept the sound off my mind fine for years and years. I'd forgotten what quiet was like.
We walked in comfortable silence for a few moments but bunny girl seemed keen to continue.
"You know, earlier. With the two girls who wanted a selfie. I was just thinking about it. Last month I wouldn't have understood but now, getting changed is already more than enough to cope with. Everyone is handling it differently. Powers have to be a lot to adjust to without other people's expectations making things harder."
That was too heavy for me to answer immediately. A surprising topic and attempt at connection. Something that destabilized me so I bought some time with a glance around.
A snaked scaled woman near us was clutching a heat pack, pockets stacked with more. She was more skin than scales. Her every step slow and careful.
Some plumaged man was glowering and ruffled from a pedestrian who'd taken to staring.
Like we were a freak show on legs.
Then there was me.
Everyone so far had been some form of stumped by my declaration, as if it was that outlandish to say no thanks to fighting every day of my life. When I didn't act how they wanted their discontent was obvious. As was the expectation I'd come around.
So many people thinking they knew what I'd do was aggravating.
That frustration didn't come from this woman though.
As much as I'd rather not have to deal with the subject and unsure what to say, I found myself speaking.
"Heroes do good," I assumed "but not everyone is going to be a firefighter or doctor, even if they're built for it." Even here I was justifying myself. But the last two days had been full of judgmental glances from the PRT. I could see the assumption, the dismissal of my feelings. A few, like Doctor Lee, weren't outright disbelieving. But they still harbored some of the same thoughts.
Everyone expected I would be masking up by next weekend. Or within the month.
Bunny girl nodded along. I continued a bit.
"Maybe if I could heal, then I'd help out. That's something I could do. But fighting…"
The silence was filled pretty quick. She didn't seem able to stand quiet.
"That makes some sense. Few power really help outside of fighting bad guys. Like, I guess Skitter could de-infest houses. But what does someone like Grue do? Smog machine for movie sets?"
Whoever the heck those were I just nodded along. Nouns were being thrown around with a familiarity I was almost determined to escape. But I'd need to know what was lurking in the city. The better to fucking book it if I saw signs of spandex showdowns on the way to whatever grocer was nearest my eventual home.
Was it so odd to resent Cape names then? Or maybe just having to learn them was what I resented.
Wait, was Skitter the local bug cape? It was a familiar word so maybe. I only knew Bakuda because she'd stood out from the crowd as a lunatic.
"Can your projection help with day to day stuff? I always wondered how cool it would be to have Crusader ghosts or something for cleaning the house or unloading groceries. And fighting off bullies, I guess." That last bit seemed like something she immediately wanted to take back, but the slip was slopped.
Were those like actual crusaders? Video gamey paladin crusaders? Or orphaned children dying in the crusades, crusaders?
Whatever.
"She can. She's the one good thing I got out of my powers." Maybe the shielding was second runner up? It was nice to have in case danger showed up.
She smiled with the eager hope of having found firm ground.
"Then that's pretty cool, right? Something useful, just for you?"
That was a really shoddy way to try and cheer someone up about having life altering powers. I already knew that, but…
"Yeah, she is." And my lips twitched upwards. "I deserve something to make up for being cut down to this size."
She beamed, as pleased with herself as she was to see me smile. "I'm Madison, by the way. Madison Clements"
"Erika Smith." I smiled a bit more easily. "It's nice to meet you."
Shopping was not really pulling my mind from the worrying. Or maybe that was because very little of the clothing on these racks fit me.
Nah, it was definitely the anxiety I got whenever something pertinent remained unknown. What little I'd googled on Leviathan's trip through the bay while walking would have to wait for another time.
At least someone's energy was helping take my mind off things. Along with that promise Leviathan wouldn't suddenly return.
"See! All of this suits your vibe so much."
"More my colors, maybe." But my reluctance was more instinct than opinion. The comfort of the familiar versus the exertion of new.
Aesthetic was where my work always found its roots. Probably why so many ideas crashed and burned at conception. Aesthetics needed structure to achieve lasting form.
Going goth seemed like a no brainer.
But could I pull off the vibe?
I ruffled through some more items.
"How about this?" Madison's excitement was rich. But then again she'd dragged me into this little store at once. There were only like a half dozen racks of items. Huge racks, but still-
"No way." My veto was as immediate as my processing of just how high up her leg that skirt aborted its purpose.
"Aw, come on. You've got so much thigh to show off. I'll try one out too! Just give it a shot."
Ugh. Or maybe some of that dread was the inevitable admission of why clothing me was going to be a challenge.
With great weight I sagged against the densely packed clothes rack and sighed.
Mangling my expression and letting my face heat didn't resolve anything.
From the corner of my eye I saw Madison deflating and guilt sprinkled into my guts. She was putting in the effort for a near stranger. I had to at least explain why this was just not an option.
Upright and after a few heavy breaths I adjusted for a gentle approach.
Then leaned in closer as I realized the studded to the gills sales lady was well within hearing range.
"Follow me, please."
I pulled Madison towards the changing area before motioning her down to my height. One bunny ear was bent my way.
"You know that triggers can do weird things to cape bodies, right?"
She tilted her head, baffled, but she righted that into a concerned nod. "Yes?"
"Really weird things?" I whispered even more quietly.
She lunged to speak, lips ready with examples but stopped, bunny ear's wilting back and face growing concerned.
"I have a lot of extra, you know, down there."
"Like, puffy pussy?"
I reeled at her unabashed statement.
"What?! No!" I hissed. Why'd she think of that first? "I mean like pussy and- dick, you know? A lot of dick, okay. I'd be swinging my nuts out of that skirt like a grandfather clock."
By the last words Madison's frozen form was flushed and her eyes were flashing through some stew of amazement, disbelief and constant flickers of curiosity to my crotch.
"That's- I mean- plausible? No, I mean no one else has ever had that happened?" That didn't sound like accusatorial doubt or rising disgust. Instead a possibility had opened before this woman's mind and she was speaking her way through it. That excitement meant she was probably a bit of a cape fan herself. Which duh, she'd been stealing glances at Shadow whenever she thought I wouldn't notice.
Whatever, she was considerate enough for me-the person-that I'd keep going.
"That you know of. Who the heck would run around letting anyone know about that? I sure wouldn't if it was an option for me."
"Really?!" We both winced. She clapped a hand to muffle the shocked shout that had already slipped. "I mean, really? I'd want to at least, like, dick shame annoying guys. If I had a huge floppy wiener. Is- do you?"
Some sort of twinkle was alight in her eye. One that gave me a moment's pause.
She wasn't looking at me how quite a few men had been in the recent days. Like a premium burger in an inconvenient wrapper they just wanted to yank right off me. My skin didn't have the creeper crawlies so of course this was different.
But some idea was boiling behind those eyes.
When she cast her longing gaze back to the clothes, eyes flicking between possibilities, I decided to just go for honesty and see if this was a tie I could trust.
"It's undoubtedly the most inconveniently large penis on the planet."
That popped her peepers wide with raw awe. The sheer gravity brought her gaze back to the subject itself. But then she stopped and yanked herself back to her thoughts. Great white bunny ears flopped this way and that while I waited to see how the die landed.
Fresh concern broke the silence.
"What are you doing for underwear?" And she asked that with a grave, sudden seriousness.
I winced. She got right to something I'd basically forfeited hope on.
"Uh, nothing?" I whispered in weak admission. "There's not really anything made to fit this."
Madison firmed up at once like a soldier on mission. "Come on then, I have an idea."
And since we hadn't even grabbed something from a rack I was dragged out of the shop at speed.
Outside a few of our entourage were lingering in the parking lot. The rest had moseyed to buildings that interested them. A PRT truck had driven up to the fire curb. Some food trucks were being trafficked, for anyone that didn't want a closed in fine dining experience. So of course they were doing banging business with the fieldtrip crew. The scents were almost enough to make me want to veer course.
We raced along the side walk, or I did. My little legs were going, thighs jostling my package around in a way that should be more uncomfortable than it was, just to keep up.
Some done up fuck boy type was throwing his hands around, baseball cap twisted, facing his friends phone. Was that someone streaming? Did they have those roaming wifi packs in 2013? The friend had quite the backpack going. They were across the parking lot and fixated on the lunch goers so we got away unseen.
Whatever, he wasn't important right now.
Madison took us right to a far larger outlet store. One that smelled of fresh paint and had dozens of people clogging the shelves and racks. Some wall to the side was clear of furnishing and decoration, surrounded by warning signs. The smell was from there.
All of the eyes that turned my way only exacerbated the stewing reluctance in me. What could even work? Literally only something custom made or really stretc-
"Huh." All of that simmering disgruntlement slipped away into a surprised, ponderous uncertainty.
"Yoga shorts!" Madison gave an almost nervous sort of beam. "They're super stretchy, as long as they're more lycra than cotton. Think they could work?"
"Maybe? Its not like I can just, try them on to find a fit, you know?" I looked around, happy that racks were keeping me mostly out of sight. These ears were probably in view over those shelves. "Unless I put them over my shorts when I try them on…"
The selection was… not the best.
"The waist is just so big." And my hips would probably be suffocated of blood flow.
"Sizes really don't account for proportions already but this is-" Madison trailed off, putting back the pair she held up.
"Yeah. The joys of being one of a kind," I groused.
Madison nodded slowly, yanking her eyes away from my lower person. Something she'd been doing throughout. But her eyes would always go back to the shelves, serious and evaluative.
As much as this entire topic unsettled me I found her attitude a bit encouraging.
A lot of shoving my fist into yoga fabric narrowed down the options. I tugged and examined to get a feel for the available room but my fists were poor tools.
Larger sizes were what I was stuck with. They were the only ones with enough room for my legs and junk. But the waist would hang a bit low.
Some awkward time spent in the changing room pulling and wiggling into confining fabrics over my basketball shorts narrowed the selection further.
I did not show Madison and she didn't ask, but she was awaiting my verdict the whole while.
"I can only afford a few pairs. Like enough for a week," I told Madison outside.
The high waistband pair I went with for extra grip was still sort of uncomfortable. Dick cradling fabric needed dick cradling design. Yet by sheer bulk this sort of worked. Barely. I'd have to do something to prevent chaffing.
The extra fabric of my shorts bunched and pinched things. And pulled tight on my ass in a way that was flattering as could be in the mirror. With this much cake? I didn't need any more emphasis to mesmerize your average male.
If I was wearing just this I'd never leave my house.
But at least this held the sack somewhat out of the way. Somewhat. A few walk abouts in the changing room didn't show anything outright objectionable. Moving wrong, though, risked letting a nut get squeezed between my thighs and that got uncomfortable fast. Pinching sack, pressurized teste, or just the tug and jostle of each step.
Walking right did the job, however. Keep the thighs and knees closer together because otherwise that testicle well more than twice the size if my dinky fists would Houdini right into my thigh vice.
The point was this was doable. So I shimmied out and quickly fixed my clothes and we ran back to grab what pairs this outlet had.
The price tag of over twenty per gave me pause. "Wait. I should make sure this even fits right before I buy more." This is going to be a chunk of my stipend already.
Victoria was in line at the counter, with some twitchy teen cat girl and her worried mother. Every ring of the register compelled her to twitch, which she was visibly failing to fight off. And that had her growling with frustration.
Victoria gave a wave but was clearly having only moderately more success suppressing her own distaste for the noise.
Noticing us made the tween curl further inward, fingers clenched. "This is so stupid! Everything's changed!"
Her mother reached to provide support but pulled her hand back. Was touch a problem too? I was mostly skin with little fur so I had no reference but I could imagine.
"How about we go outside and get some food?"
"I'll bring it out for you when it's rung up, okay?" Victoria added.