Breaking Aurora Flight - trixieadara (2024)

Chapter 1: Somatosensory Cortex

Chapter Text

Synapse

“There are five on the inside,” I said into my comm. “They’re scared.” I moved my hand off the warehouse wall and ducked around the corner. I hadn’t sensed any guards, but if bullets started flying, I was the least likely member to survive it.
“Just five?” Bastille asked in her thick French accent.
“Inside is vague,” Korporeal said, ignoring Bastille per usual. Korporeal’s gone for a bit of a Southern white girl vibe today for reasons no one but she understands. I was willing to bet she had a date tonight. God, I hoped it took her out of the base.
“‘Lon?” Surya asked over the comms. Her rich and calming voice with her Indian accent normally calms me, but I could feel her flying a hundred feet above the warehouse. The wind rippled over her skin and her stomach dropped as she occasionally dipped closer. We’d seen no sign of guards in the warehouse, which was not like Hauzer. She was more of a seven hundred guns kind of villain with a posse that used grenade launchers like sidearms, hence the caution.
“On it.” Eidolon’s voice came out as a whisper.
“Just a peek. Don’t infiltrate yet,” Surya warned. “It’s probably rigged to blow.”
Oh, right. The explosive fetish. Another reason to inch towards Hauzer, even when she’s kidnapped half the city’s major media executives in a weird hostage situation. Weird because, you know, no ransom asked for, but hostage because of kidnapping and innocents and all. Three CFOs, two CEOs, and one CTO all were taken from their bedrooms in the middle of the night. Stealth was not Hauzer’s M.O., as evidenced by us finding her base in three hours. Our guess was she wanted some kind of showdown with us. I swear it’s on every villain’s bucket list to kill Aurora Flight. I know we were only a few years out of being a junior team, but we were legit now. The League even recognized us as equals on paper if not in truth. Why couldn’t they go bother the Boulevard Boys? They were practically more of a boyband than a super team.
“While we’re waiting,” Io said. “Some idiot has a cellphone in there.”
Surya chuckled. “One of the —”
“Patching in,” Io said. Our comm feed was filled with faint static and the voice of someone talking into the phone with a thick Boston accent: Hauzer.
“I know they’re here,” Hauzer said.
“One is in the wall,” said another voice. It wasn’t one I recognized, but Io was definitely recording this. She’d run it through voice analysis later.
“That ghost c*nt,” Hauzer growled. “I told you I could have set —”
“Wait …” the stranger’s voice warned. “They’re listening.”
“Cut the feed,” Surya ordered.
The static cut out, and I felt the surge of adrenaline rush through my teammates. My knees buckled as they tended to do before a big fight. If I wasn’t in the thrill of the moment with them, four adrenaline spikes at once was a bit much for a human body to take, even a super one.
“Calm,” I said into my comm. “You all feel like rookies.”
“That’s not fair,” Io said. “Kori hasn’t been a rookie in like a year.”
“f*ck you,” Korporeal snapped.
“Let’s go,” Bastille said. “You heard there are no explosives.”
“Wait,” Surya warned. Aurora Flight doesn’t technically have a leader, but you’d have no idea if you looked at our press. Every photo shoot had Surya dead center with her long black hair and glowing fiery eyes. They used to beg her for a little bit of her radiant power, but once she burned out several grand worth of equipment on accident, and now they just photoshop the glow in afterwards. I think — well, I sort of know — that all the press has gone to her head.
“‘Lon?” Surya asked.
“No guards,” Eidolon said. “But she does have, you know, guns.”
“Of course she does,” Io sighed.
“This doesn’t feel right,” I said. “I can’t feel Hauzer.”
“What do you mean?” Bastille asked.
“I mean, I can feel five — five and not six — hostages and Eidolon inside there. I don’t have Hauzer.”
“You sure?” Korporeal asked. “Are you too far —”
“Hauzer lights up like a Christmas tree,” I said. “She’s like an addict in withdrawal.”
“She knows we’re coming,” Io said. “She’s probably taken a precaution against your powers.”
“But not Eidolon?” I ask. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“None of this does,” Surya said. “But she knows we’re here. May I please, please, go save some people?” She was met with silence on the comms. “Bastille?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“Smash and grab?”
Bastille sighed. “I’m going to get shot, aren’t I? Can’t you blast off the roof and —”
While they debated entry points and tactics, Eidolon stepped out of the wall in front of me. Well, technically, her shadow stepped out of the wall, extended on the pavement from the warehouse to her full silhouette. Then, emerging from it like stepping out of shower, Eidolon was in front of me. She gave me a sad smile, and I returned it.
Eidolon was a member of the class of supers whose powers took a heavy toll on them. She was a thin and wiry girl — looking eighteen even though she was twenty-three and older than me. Stepping through shadows and between the physical world sort of stunted her growth in one capacity and sped it up in another. She had pale skin a goth girl would envy, but in full daylight it was easy to see that it had gone past creamy milk to an almost sallow gray. Her hair had gone a pale gray too, almost silver. But her large violet eyes reminded you of her age, even when everything else was mismatched. They were adorable but tired: the eyes of a hero who had given her innocence to saving others.
I was immediately washed up in her constant melancholy now that she was this close. I tried to guard myself from others’ emotions as best as I could. People didn’t like it. To them, it felt too much like reading their mind. But Eidolon always had a surge of relief when I shared her sadness, and that was worth it. I don’t get this connection rarely, though my body is clearly designed to be in link with whomever is around me.
“What did you see in there?” I said.
Eidolon shook her head. “Mostly empty. Lots of weapons stations around. Good lines of sight if she wants to shoot us, which she will.”
I nodded.
“This doesn’t feel right,” I whispered.
Eidolon sighed. “When does it ever?” She turned back and looked at the building. “A madwoman takes five people for some twisted reason.
“Six people,” I corrected, but she kept rolling. Her frustration was always fascinating. Korporeal and Surya loved the hero gig, but it was clearly burning some of us out. It was easy to forget we were young, that seven years ago we formed as a junior team and our biggest hope was our own reality show.
“And for what?” Eidolon said. “To kill some superheroes? Imagine the trauma these CEOs will have while Hauzer makes her point. Meanwhile,” Eidolon sighed again. My skin warmed as I picked up her frustration. “Our friends are arguing like co-workers trying to do a project together.” She shook her head and looked back at me. “Dark world.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Do it, Io,” Surya said.
“Roger, taking down the power and doors.”
“Oh Lord,” I said. “We’re going in.”
“Not us,” Eidolon looked back at me. “Not yet.”
“Hostage duty,” we both said at the same time. Technically, Io was in our hoverjet, safe and sound. Even then, her electric pulses can deflect bullets or short circuit plenty of nervous systems. Bastille was essentially a human tank, and Surya was a sun goddess. While Korporeal didn’t like the cameras to catch it, she could be a housefly in one breath and a wooly mammoth in the next. They did the fighting. Eidolon walked through walls, and I … felt things. We weren’t high priority on hostage jobs.
Eidolon gave me a sad smile that I returned warmly. “Over here,” she said and started to walk me around to the edge of the building. I felt a surge of fear as Io cut the power to the building. Just five surges. Still not Hauzer. Why couldn’t I feel her? And where was the sixth hostage?
As soon as the power went off, the building was rocked with an explosion from one of Surya’s sun-bolts. From there, Bastille would rush in and take any fire while Surya and Korporeal went to find Hauzer and take her out. Io would coordinate while Eidolon and I saved the hostages. I calmed them. That was my major contribution to the team.
“Ready?” Eidolon asked as she pressed her hand against the warehouse door.
I shook my head.
Eidolon gave a small laugh. “Me neither.” In a blur, the color of the world faded away. Everything went black and white until it lost differentiation in shade entirely. The world wasn’t dark; it was a miserable and eternal gray. I could see, but there was nothing to existence. Then all at once, the world went black and white as the shapes inside of the warehouse appeared. Slowly, color came back too.
The only consolation — though it saddened me — was that Eidolon felt the same surge of nausea and terror that I did. I guess you never get used to that.
But that faded as adrenaline hit me. This time, my adrenaline spike accompanied the rest of the team as gunfire filled the warehouse and blasts of searing sunlight cut through the walls and flooring. Around us were three older white guys and two middle-aged women. They were terrified, and I had to close my eyes and clench my jaw to keep myself calm. Emotions were infectious enough, but you could usually use logic to push through them. But I couldn’t trick my brain into believing there was nothing to be afraid of like it was a small toddler. There was something to be afraid of.
“It’s okay,” I said and reached out my hands. “Take my hand.”
They hesitated before reaching out to me. It’s not that I blame them. Eidolon looked like a ghoul in a black cat suit, and I was … well, I was never quite as flashy as my teammates. They say it’s the Tennessee in me, but all the skin some supers showed made me uncomfortable. Besides, too much touching my skin can make my powers go into overdrive. No, I wore purple for the neuron and brain power theme (which my agent insists is good for branding) with a gray off theme. My suit covered everything but my fingertips and palms with some fingerless glove effect at the end of the sleeves that I thought was pretty slick. The suit even had a turtle-neck like vibe to give me coverage everywhere to protect me from unwanted triggers. I guess the worst part about being a giant human nerve is being a giant human nerve. Other than that, I kept things simple. No utility belt or body armor. I guess the one legit power I got was pretty tough skin, even if it wasn’t Bastille levels of invulnerability. I could survive a car crash pretty much guaranteed, maybe even without a seatbelt.
Not that I would try that.
But it probably wasn’t my suit that made the hostages look at me funny. No. It was the hair. Solid and royal blue my whole life. I guess the powers came with it, but against my olive complexion, it stood out. You’d think it’s 2022 and people can have their hair be whatever color they want, but growing up in the South, blue hair is a cry for attention I never wanted. I’ve tried dying it blonde, but no luck. The stuff resists hair dye like I resist car crashes I guess.
Two men got over the shock of my appearance and touched me. I got flashes of their wives and children. Their lives were passing before their eyes. One was afraid to die with so much regret. The other was afraid of all his secrets coming to light. That would hurt his family more than death.
My body shook as it took in all the information they were sending out. To replace their emotions with my own, I had to be a mountain against their tornado. If I wavered slightly, I would be overcome. Bastille trained to be a hero by bench lifting freight trains. I did yoga and meditation and tai-chi and journaling and read my Bible and prayed and ate healthy and got plenty of sleep. I had to be an emotional ocean so that none of their storms could seriously rock me.
Eidolon grabbed the hostages and made them touch me. They were worse. The panic was on an animal level. I thought of a bear fleeing from a forest fire. No. A squirrel. They’re dread was dangerous. They would be the kind of person that would trample a child to run from a burning theater.
I took a deep breath and centered myself. As my therapists taught me, I imagined an open field filled with daisies. I imagined myself as a young girl, back in Tennessee. I imagined running through the fields feeling like the whole world was a playground, like the entire universe was a gift for the sole purpose of my joy and pleasure.
I hummed a worship song that always centered me, imagining the words floating around me in the field. “Oh take me back, back to the beginning. When I was young, running through the fields with you.”
I don’t know if God is real or not, but her joy is the only way I can center myself enough to calm five strangers in the middle of a warzone. I feel like a fount of kindness, patience, and grace. Nothing can hurt me.
Safe. The universe is safe.
A smile washed over my face, and I watched with true delight as it spread over the other hostages. I looked at Eidolon and smiled at her.
“Let’s go,” she said. “One at a time.”
Eidolon made quick work of ferrying the souls out of the building while I moved through the corridors and kept low to dodge random gunfire. Hauzer was on the second floor, firing at the team from the catwalk. She unleashed the whole clip of whatever gun she could find, dropped it, and ran off to another weapon to fire at the team. She knew enough not to bother shooting at Bastille, and she tried to keep her distance while staying under cover from Surya. But something was wrong. This was too easy. Normally there are bombs and hostages with explosives strapped to them or legions of hired thugs. This was a thoroughly normal and deranged woman trying to fight off three supers. She didn’t have a chance.
And I still couldn’t feel her.
There was some look in her eyes that bothered me as she ran from spot to spot. Normally Hauzer had a wild mania or look of absolute glee in her eyes. The woman definitely had a fetish for guns and got off in some bizarre way when firing them. And I mean got off on it. In a typical fight, I could feel the arousal in the most disgusting and bizarre way imaginable. But Hauzer’s face was calm and focused while she fought Aurora Flight. Was this a trap? Some bizarre suicide attempt? Did she want to go back to prison?
Before I could figure it out, Korporeal changed from a spider hiding behind Hauzer into a gorilla. She wrapped her arms around the villain and changed some of her torso to include octopus tentacles that kept binding Hauzer. Her lower body turned into a python for good measure and began the slow act of constricting and restraining the wild woman. Korporeal looked like some bizarre new form of chimera, but Hauzer didn’t have much chance of getting away unless she —
An explosion rocked the building, sending Korporeal and Hauzer flying away from each other. The comms crackled and buzzed in my ear while Surya tried to figure out what happened and Bastille frantically called out for Kori. I got up to run in and help when I heard creaking and looked up to see the ceiling of the small room bending down and about to snap and —
Fire, debris, and hot steel fell towards me in a way that looked much more dangerous than a car crash. I tried to cry out, but before I could get the words out of my mouth, all color faded from the world. The fire turned from a burning white to a bland gray, and then there was nothing but a universal absence of shadow and shape.

***

The press were huddled around the police line trying to get a comment from one of the hostages, but once Surya landed with Io, they swarmed them like flies.
“Here they go,” Eidolon sighed as she handed me a cup of tea. I was in the back of an ambulance with the other victims, but I was fine. Honestly. Eidolon got to me before the building collapsed on me. We got the innocents out. It was a big deal for Aurora Flight. And the best part — if you asked Io — about saving millionaires and celebrities was the press it brought. Press meant donors. Donors meant the base stayed open, and we could afford Io’s tech or Bastille’s 8,000 calorie diet to be impervious to nuclear blasts.
“Don’t act like you wish you were them,” I muttered and took a long sip of tea. I could feel the heat of Eidolon’s frustration, but I also know the feeling of her embarrassment and awkwardness when too many people looked at her. She always plays with her hair and —
“But it’s not like they saved the day. They beat up a villain that was practically begging for it.”
“Yeah, about that —”
“Hey, darlings.” Korporeal walked around the corner of the ambulance and sat nearby. “Mind if I share some trauma tea?” She had switched to dark brown skin and long kinky hair and a bayou accent from Louisiana. It was pleasant to the ear, like a good scratch.
“Sure,” I said. I motioned for her to sit next to me, and she did. Korporeal always intimidated me, and it wasn’t the constant shapeshifting. Other people tried to hide their emotions — especially people who knew how easily I could pick them up. But Korporeal never did that. It was like she wanted me to know exactly what she was feeling. Or worse, when she looked into my eyes, it felt like she was daring me.
“You alright?” she said as Eidolon handed her a cup of tea. “Close call.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Stupid of me to go in.”
“They wouldn’t have gone without you,” Bastille said as she rounded the corner. “Fear makes people stupid.”
“Easy to say when you have nothing to fear,” Eidolon said. “And no one to fear you.” She let her eyes drift away from Bastille, trying to diminish the comment. Bastille had cornflower blonde hair, green eyes, freckles, and the most adorable French accent in the world. She wasn’t the bombshell that Surya was, but if there was ever a super-model super team (I can see the reality show taglines now), she’d be the first person they called. She was wiry and elegant. There was an effortlessness to her. I guess her skin made her impervious to breakouts and blemishes too. In fact, I’ve never seen her wear makeup. Girl just wakes up like that.
I put a hand on Eidolon’s shoulder and sent some comfort to her through the touch. Some people have all the luck when it comes to powers, and no one knows that more than Eidolon. The warmth of the tea drained out of me as I gave her what I could. I shivered, and she gave me a look, knowing what I’d done.
“You should take it easy, tonight,” she warned.
“Yeah.” I probably needed a night in my room. After all the emotional chaos of the day, an evening with my paintbrush and some empty canvas was the only way to recharge. That and barbecue. I think I’ll order out and —
“Well, you ladies know I’d love a good book and some bourbon and two pizzas,” Bastille said. “But I’m the bearer of —”
“No,” sighed Eidolon.
I lowered my head in defeat. “A party,” I said. Normally we get a day or two before someone wanted to thank us with a soiree filled with potential donors.
“Io just told me,” Bastille said.
“The CEOs we saved,” Korporeal added, “want to thank us. With their contacts we could —”
“Let them throw us a party tomorrow.” The heat of Eidolon’s anger spread through her and over my skin. “Aren’t they traumatized or something?”
I stretched my senses out to answer her question. I was weighed down with Bastille’s fatigue and Eidolon’s disappointment. Korporeal — on the other hand — was downright giddy and something else. There was some heightened physical sensation in her body I couldn’t sort out. But around the corner, I could sense the CEOs and CFOs. They were rattled for sure, but there was something off there. A strange calm that wasn’t there when we went to save them. Did I do that? I’m not that strong. Lord, it felt like they’d taken something. An EMT wouldn’t give them morphine would they? It felt like they were high.
“There’s another person missing,” I said.
“Yeah,” Eidolon said as she pointed to me. “We have work to do.”
“The FBI is working with the police to find Ms. Sanders.” Elizabeth Sanders was the CTO Hauzer supposedly kidnapped and was conveniently missing from the warehouse.
“So they’ll just call us when it’s time to get shot at,” Eidolon snorted. “Perfect.”
“So we’re going to party while other people play hero?” I asked.
“We’re going to relax,” Korporeal said. She leaned in close, and I felt a strange pressure build around my breasts like they were stiffening but not quite. What the hell was —
“I sure wish Ms. Sanders could relax,” Eidolon added.
“Listen,” Bastille said. “It’s been a long day. Synapse almost died. We should all blow off some steam.”
“Parties are not how Synapse likes to —”
“I know,” sighed Bastille. “But it’s a PR thing now. Io and Surya say we’ve got to. Think of all the other people we won’t be able to save if we don’t have funding.”
“Besides,” Korporeal added. “It’ll be fun if you give into it.” She smiled wide and her eyes flickered to a dark brown, her true eye color. “I’ve even got a date.”
“Of course you do,” Eidolon said. “You’ve known about this party for ten seconds and you already have a date.”
“Hey,” Korporeal snapped. “He’s cute. He owns some chunk of the internet or something. It could be great for the team to have a contact like that —”
“Oh don’t act like you’re whoring yourself out for the team,” Eidolon snapped.
“‘Lon,” Bastille warned.
“What did you say?” Korporeal hissed as a forked tongue sliding out of her mouth and long viper fangs dropping down.
The noise of them was too much. There was frustration and anger and resentment and somewhere in there the sticky feeling of arousal. Bastille was resigned but also saddened. I almost felt a thought — which has to be really loud for me to pick up on it — about quitting the team. Eidolon was tapping into a decade of bitterness when it came to Korporeal that was quickly building into a grudge against everyone that wasn’t me. Korporeal was defensive but there was a strange self-loathing mixed in it, as though Eidolon had stepped on an insecurity. Around the corner, one of the reporters was desperate for an interview with Io, as though it would save her family. Another reporter had a sick kid, maybe? It was loud, so loud.
I stood up and walked away from the ambulance, taking another sip of tea as the buzzing of Eidolon and Korporeal’s bickering faded away. Bastille called out my name, and then some reporters turned and latched their attention on to me. It faded quickly, as I was the least interesting member of Aurora Flight. Amongst homeschool families and evangelicals, I was a poster child of a hero, but ever since Aurora Flight stopped being a teen sensation and started trying to go pro as an adult female team, the press wanted looks like Surya, Bastille, or Korporeal or they wanted brains like Io. Being the team “feeler” didn’t sell.
Surprisingly, the chaos of the press conference and the frenzy of questions was calmer than the fight between Eidolon and Korporeal. I sighed with relief and kept sipping my tea as they moved on from asking about the rescue mission and went to their default questions we never answered.
“How’s the dating life, Io?” Someone shouted. Io laughed and ignored the question, pointing to someone else who wanted to ask about her thoughts on African-American running for the Senate in Georgia. Io was mixed, but most questions about her were about her blackness. If they knew she was asexual, that would be all they asked.
“We’re too busy saving the world,” Surya said to cover.
“And what about you, Surya?” asked the same reporter. “Any lucky girl caught your eye?”
Surya shook her head.
“What about a member of Aurora Flight?” asked the same douchebag. I wasn’t the only one who felt Surya’s frustration.The sky darkened a bit as she drank in the sunlight and let her eyes flare bright.
Surya smoothed her expression and reclaimed her poise, but the anger boiling under her was like lava. “The girls in Aurora Flight are sisters to me,” she said. Unlike Io, she was out to the world. She had a whole sappy interview with Oprah over it. Korporeal did the same thing five years ago when she came out as pansexual. It helped our image to be the most diverse in race and orientation of any other super team out there, but it also left me with a dozen questions to answer anytime I went to a Christian conference to promote the team. Some people thought I should try to convert them and heal them. They, unfortunately, were idiots.
“You know,” Io said to save the moment as usual, “we’re having a party tonight at the Borealis. Maybe Surya will find a great girl there.”
Everyone laughed, and Io reminded them of a charity she runs helping improve STEM teaching and resources to low-income schools. She orchestrated the press like a conductor, and Surya stood silently, not wanting to run away and burn things in a rage because she’s our “leader” and has to look responsible.
I sighed — it seemed that everyone in Aurora Flight was doing that a lot lately — and tried to step away. Tony, our agent, was talking to Korporeal about the details of the party and going over a guestlist. Eidolon was nowhere to be seen, and Bastille smiled at me. If I were anyone else, she would wrap me in a hug and hum some Parisian lullaby, but she knew better. I could do it if I braced myself, but I didn’t have the energy to put up shields right now. I just needed a bath and some oil paints. I’d be fine.
Probably.

***

I should have known better. Young and wealthy men wanted to throw a party with the best-known all female super team. Of course they were going to turn the Borealis, our base, into some kind of weird club or rave from the 90s. There was no peace. There was no quiet. There were eight dozen strangers all pressed in our hangar (Io parked the hoverjet on the roof), bright neon lights, a DJ (or two?), and alcohol. Lots of alcohol.
The worst part of alcohol for me isn’t that drunk people are stupid and annoying — though they are. It isn’t that I can’t drink or else my shields will drop and I’ll feel every touch and emotion in the building like I’m strapped to a table and everyone is running their hands over me. It isn’t that alcohol tends to make everything loud and turns the unfunny into stupid hilarious. The worst part is that I can feel it. All of it. I can track it through the stomach and into the blood. I feel it affect the mind. I have a perfect before and after picture of a person, knowing full well what they would have done if it weren’t for the alcohol and what the booze tricked them into doing. And at parties as large as this, with as much booze as this, it’s almost like I’ve had a shot or two myself.
Two hours ago, Tony knocked on the door to my room and disrupted my painting. He told me as politely as possible that I needed to come out and schmooze with the wealthy and drunk for the good of the team. There were some photo ops we couldn’t pass on. Also, apparently Korporeal’s date did own a good chunk of the internet. He wanted to meet the whole team for a while, so I had to hang out with them.
I thanked him for telling me and kindly told him I needed to rest to save human lives, not play nice for cameras and billionares that think they can buy me.
Tony’s a good guy, so I didn’t blame him for sending Io to come get me. She started with the usual tactics that it would only be for a little while and then reminded me that the team needed money, goodwill, and influence in political spheres to do what we do. Congress wasn’t sure they were alright with supers, and only our popularity with the people protected us. That means good press was as necessary as food and water. When I couldn’t be persuaded, her warm smile died and she coldly reminded me that I was contracted to attend official Aurora Flight events. So Eidolon and I mingled and stuck to the shadows for an hour or so until Korporeal found us.
I did not need my powers to know how hammered she was.
She was stretched out over some young twenty-something Norman Bates kind of good-looking guy. The other girls were around her, and when she saw me, she shrieked (literally shrieked) and bounced up to hug me.
“You’re heeeeeeere!”
“Yeah,” I said while muffled by her breasts. Apparently Korporeal was going for a six-foot-something Amazonian goddess for this evening’s party. “Here I am.” She was wearing a dangling piece of cloth that was covered in pink sequins and barely covered her breasts and exposed her lithe and tight stomach. A mini-skirt that was more of a hand-towel wrapped around her plump hips was the only other thing covering her body besides heels with straps that wound up her leg and over her calves.
“Let’s get you something to drink.”
“I don’t want to drink.”
“Nonsense.” Korporeal turned around and waved over her boy-toy. “Charles, get her a drink.” Charles stood up and slid his hands in his pockets, clearly as bothered by her drunkness. “Oh, who am I kidding?” Korporeal stepped back and slapped her hand against her forehead. “Charles Lindner, this is Meeeee-Synapse! Greatest feeler in the universe.”
“That’s me,” I said, holding up my hands and wiggling my fingers. “Catchin’ the feels.”
Korporeal laughed obnoxiously, and Charles smirked in a distractingly handsome way. He was clean shaven with dark brown hair that was perfectly swooped and coiffed to look effortless but wasn’t. He wore a blue sweater over a shirt and tie — which looked a bit much in our random club/rave atmosphere — tight khaki pants and clean brown loafers. I’m sure somehow it all cost ten thousand dollars, but he looked like a jock that went fraternity then graduated to business school and golf courses on Daddy’s money.
I wanted to hate him.
But I couldn’t feel him.
It was Hauzer all over again.
Before I could say anything, he offered his hand for me to shake. The pulsing of the music was like background noise compared to all the feelings in the room. Sense of touch, alcohol, taste, lust, sleepiness, fear, joy, giddiness, horniness, loneliness, all of it choked out the air in the room, but Charles was a perfect void in front of me, like he was a cutout from the universe, an emotional and sensory void.
Automatically, I took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. My voice was quiet. Or maybe the music just made me feel it that way. Or maybe the noise of the room.
No. Not the noise. Something in it shifted. It didn’t dim down exactly, but it became less chaotic. It was precise. It wasn’t a wave of lust so much as a specific heat between Korporeal’s legs. It was Io’s boredom with us and her desire to move on to a better and more serious team. It was Surya’s ego burning brighter than the sun. It wasn’t just the fatigue and frustration of Eidolon but her deep loathing and resentment of every one. It was Bastille’s slow disconnection from not only the hero game but human connection in general as though her emotions were as impenetrable as her skin. It was the sweat running down a dancer’s thighs. It was the fingernails digging into Eidolon’s palm. It was that strange pressure building in Korporeal’s breasts. No. Not pressure.
Piercings.
“Uh, I’m going to need my hand back,” Charles said.
I looked down and realized I was still holding his hand. “Oh, right!” I said and giggled.
Giggled?
“Right. Sorry.” I pulled my hand away and ran it over my thighs. My palms hurt and were sweaty. The room was fuzzy and warm, and I think my vision was going blurry? I took a step back away from Charles and the room spun like I’d had too much to drink.
Korporeal swooped in and grabbed my shoulders to steady me. There was some kind of feedback loop as I felt her touching my skin through my mind, and I felt her touching my skin through her mind. I felt her touching and the feeling of the touch, and it cycling in on itself until her touch was electricity and lava and ice and … erotic.
Korporeal closed her eyes and moaned as I bit my lip to stifle my own pleasure. I staggered back and looked around to see who was watching. But no one was bothered by Korporeal moaning after getting drunk. She hit on everybody and flirted relentlessly. People thought Korporeal was sexy because she could become anyone’s fantasy with her body. But the truth was that Korporeal liked sex more than anyone I knew — more than anyone I’d heard of.
“Oh you naughty girl,” Korporeal said. She stepped closer — uncomfortably close — to talk to me over the music. “Did you send that to me?”
“What? No.” I tried to step back but the room spun again. Something was wrong. I was sick. I don’t know how it came on so quickly but —
“That wasn’t me,” Korporeal said. She bit her lip and bounced up and down with excitement. “I guess it was both of us wasn’t it?”
“Um … I guess. Yeah.” I put my hand to my forehead to try and center myself. I couldn’t get the world to stabilize itself. It was like I’d had as much alcohol as everyone in this room combined but it wasn’t in my system poisoning me. It was just the euphoria and disorientation surging through me.
“I didn’t know you could do that.” Korporeal leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “That’s kind of hot.”
The feedback loop started again with her warm breath on my ear. I shuddered, as I felt her feeling what I was feeling, amplifying the sensation as she sent it back to me. Korporeal staggered forward from the rush and gripped my shoulders to center herself, but her fingertips were light and soft. Her skin was heaven, and her skin on my skin feeling her skin on my skin was more than either of us could take. I failed to stifle my moan completely, and Korporeal arched her back to let the entire room know she was turned on. We both broke away with our chests heaving from the crippling pleasure that just rocked through us.
“sh*t,” Korporeal said. “Where have you been my whole life?”
“I — I — I —” I looked back at Eidolon who was staring at me like I’d lost my mind, which I guess I had. “I don’t know what’s happening.” The lights of the room blurred together into one overbright tapestry of neon watercolors. “I don’t feel so well.”
“Hey,” Korporeal said and stepped closer again. “I think Charles wouldn’t mind if we had a bit of company for tonight.”
“What?” Why was she talking to me about Charles right now?
“You know, for a little three way fun?” She looked back at him, then back at me. “Don’t worry, with your magic feedback touch, you’d have all my attention. He’d just be there to get something between my legs you know?”
“What are you talking about?”
Korporeal giggled, and I found myself giggling along with her. I don’t know why. I didn’t find this funny, but I couldn’t help myself. “I bet if he f*cked me, it’d be like he f*cked both of us, right?”
“Kori, I don’t feel so —”
Korporeal ran her hands over her own chest. When she touched her nipples and the piercings, I had to hold onto her to keep from collapsing. The neon colors of the party turned to a painful and searing white as the pleasure ripped through my body like a tornado through an old book. Korporeal’s knees dipped too as I sent the pleasure to her — if only because there was so much of it that had to go somewhere before I exploded. I didn’t know how I was doing it, but in that moment I was feeling as though my nipples were pierced and I was completely smashed and I was touching myself, and Korporeal was feeling the same things, and I was feeling her feeling it, and she was feeling me feeling it, and it was all too much for either of us to handle.
I think for a moment I blacked out.
But when I opened my eyes, Korporeal and I were on the floor giggling while Eidolon and Bastille were hovering over us, asking if we were alright. Neither of us could handle human speech, and I heard Eidolon say something about taking me to bed before I felt the strong hands of Bastille pick me up. Her hands were cold, and though my body accidentally sent the sensation back to her, she didn’t respond. I felt the alcohol in her system and the lingering sadness in her chest, but I couldn’t feel her skin, which I guess meant she couldn’t feel her skin either. It wasn’t always like that for her, but it’s not like I regularly monitored how sensitive everyone’s skin is.
That stirred my out of my drunkass reverie.
“You okay?” I asked as Bastille carried me to my bed.
“I should be asking you that,” she said in her French accent.
“Yeah, I think I’m just tired. I can’t control my powers.”
“Then let’s get you to sleep.”
“Everyone’s drunk,” I said.
“Not everyone,” Bastille said with a sad smile. She placed me on the bed and tucked me in. “Get some sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I sat up. “The picture. I need to be there for the photo op and —”
“If Tony doesn’t understand that you get a pass when you’re sick, I’ll shave his stupid mustache by plucking one hair at a time.”
“Thanks.”
“Any time, ma cherie.” She kissed me on the forehead and walked away, turning off the lights and closing the door behind her.
But despite the darkness, the world wouldn’t go away. I don’t know why my powers were going haywire, but I could still feel everything going on inside the Borealis. Eidolon was leaning against a wall, drinking something strong and bitter. I’d expect her to sit in the shadows, but she sat under a lamp, preferring light. I could feel her fear of the shadows creeping towards her, of accidentally losing all color in the world and slipping into that dismal in-between place. I felt Surya’s frustration with my failure to be there for pictures, and Io’s warmth as some donors promised to support us for another quarter. I felt people dancing and grinding on each other. I felt horny men looking for some vulnerable girl to take to an unoccupied room. I felt tight women making sure they had mace in case one of those men made a move. I felt them all in their sweat and debauchery, in their fear and anger, in their pride and lust, in their gluttony and greed, in their ambition and cruelty, in their joy and alcohol, in their freedom and delight, in their pleasure.
All that pleasure.
But there was one spot burning bright in the house, calling out to me like a beacon. It was upstairs and across the hall. Korporeal’s room. It seemed her moaning in public gave clear signals to Charles. I assume they were both sweaty, feeling the hot breath of their partner on their necks, but I still couldn’t feel Charles. He was a void like Hauzer running his hands over Korporeal’s hips. So it wasn’t them together that lit up the night, it was Korporeal alone. Her pleasure was an inferno, and after decades of being out in the cold, I was drawn to it. Maybe it was the latent effects of alcohol infecting me from the party, or maybe it was simple curiosity and boredom. It might have been jealousy or the need to finish what Korporeal started in me. Whatever it was, my defenses were down. I spent years trying not to feel everything in every person around me. I tried to respect their privacy. I tried not to let their sensations spread to me to keep my sanity.
But this time I wanted it.
I reached out to Korporeal with my mind and slipped into her nervous system like a hand into a glove. Before I knew it, Charles wasn’t running his hands over Korporeal, he was running his hands over me. He peeled my flimsy top off and the cold made my pierced nipples stiffen. I fumbled for the door handle, and he pushed me through. We stumbled through the dark until soft fabric was over my back, and the weight of him was on my lap. He bent down and his warm and wet tongue — strong and long — was pressing against my pierced nipple and wrapping around it. My back arched as the lightning of pleasure coursed through me. My hips rolled into him, and he knew I wanted it. My body was opening up, begging for him to be inside of me.
In my bedroom, I closed my eyes and reached down to peel off my pants and panties as Korporeal did the same, taking her tiny skirt off our body and pulling aside the thong we chose just for this. Charles didn’t hesitate, I couldn’t feel him, but I imagined the animal lust of a strong man. The kind of hunger to dominate and take, and Korporeal and I both wanted to be taken. We wanted to put down the hero game for one night and let someone else win, someone else could be strong. We wanted to be broken and splayed for him, filled with him, pierced by him, and f*cked stupid.
“Yes,” I whispered as my hands went to my eager cl*t in my bedroom. Whether at my bidding or not, Korporeal did the same and teased our cl*t while Charles eased himself inside of us. I cried out in the darkness as I suddenly had two cl*ts, both of them teased at the same time. Then Charles was inside us, and we spread our legs wide to wrap around him. Our skin was hot and sensitive, eager and supple. Charles gave us a few gentle thrusts, and then he picked up speed, ramming into us as our heavy and pierced breasts flopped with each blow.
In my bedroom, I clamped my hand over my mouth as I shrieked and moaned into it. I couldn’t stop myself from being loud as Korporeal and I both screamed with pleasure. But this was new. I was saving myself for marriage, and while I technically didn’t have a man inside of me, I now knew how good it felt to have him take me and break me, to feel my whole body open like a flower while he filled me with nectar.
My hand moved faster, and I think I passed it along to Korporeal despite our incredible distance. My powers were out of control and stronger than they’d ever been before as Korporeal felt herself have two teased cl*ts and f*cked puss* sent back to her, giving her the sensation of four cl*ts and two f*cked puss*es. Of course, I felt it too, and with some sad*stic and playful part of me, some hungry part that just wanted to org*sm and get back at Korporeal for a thousand playful flirtations and awkward conversations, I sent the feedback back to her. Until our entire bodies, our entire beings, were cl*ts teased with slicked fingers and puss*es f*cked by Charles. Korporeal’s scream ripped through the house like she was dying, and I brought my hand to my mouth to silence my own screams.
Then Korporeal did the same, bringing her own hand to her mouth to silence her moans, and I couldn’t tell if she wanted to do that. Finding the desire was like looking for a needle in a haystack that’s been sent flying through the air by a twister. But she did what I did, matching my pace and energy as we played with our cl*ts, spreading her legs to match me in my bedroom as Charles f*cked us harder and harder, gripping the sheets and twisting them around with our free hand while Charles had his threesome and was never the wiser for it.
Korporeal and I came at the same time, and the org*sm was unlike anything we’d ever had. Like before, we might have blacked out in the feedback cyclone of her feeling my org*sm and her org*sm at the same time. I don’t know where the world went or who I was anymore, but in a moment, the world went from searing white to absolute blackness as our bodies chose to override our brains, and we were both forced to the blissful unconsciousness of sleep.

***

Hauzer

I wasn’t used to the kindness of the FBI when you don’t actually kill anyone. Sure, a few hostages and a lot of gunfire, but I should remember for next time that if you keep the body count low — and mysteriously lose one of your hostages — the FBI will find you a nice room and interview you for hours with genuine respect instead of the bashings and beatings I’ve got in the past. The only good news was that the Girly Flight hadn’t taken me into their custody, though of course that’s what the boss said would happen. She was eerie about making her promises come true, but I wasn’t paid to question her.
Come to think of it, I wasn’t paid at all.
The door to the interview room opened up, and I smiled. “Got my coffee there Special Agent Dank.”
But instead of the balding white guy I’d been chatting with all day, the boss walked into the room. She wore leather pants, a black tank top, and a black leather bomber jacket. She had olive skin and dark brown eyes with long legs and an angular and severe face. It was all a little goth/biker girl for me, but what stood out was the bright blue hair. It was long and vibrant, reaching halfway down the tall woman’s back. I’m not sure how I knew, but something about the coloring told me it wasn’t dyed. She didn’t seem like the kind of bitch that went to the salon.
She waved a hand and baldy came in behind her. “Sorry about the misunderstanding, Hauzer,” he said as he went behind me and undid my cuffs. “Our mistake.”
“What?” I asked, but the boss had a cruel smirk of amusem*nt on her face. “I mean, uh, right. Your bad. Shame on you stupid feds.”
The boss rolled her eyes, but baldy said, “Right, our bad.”
“Let’s go,” the boss said. Her voice was soft and silky, almost girlike. It made the hairs on the back of my neck standup. The boss reached behind her own neck and scratched it, then raised her hand over her head and yawned while she stretched. “We’re out of time.”
“Time for what?”
“Everything’s working. I’ve found her and confirmed she’s ready.” Her smile spread, in a way I definitely didn’t like. “Time to set the trap.”
“Another one?”
“Sadly yes.” The boss motioned and my legs walked me ahead of her and out the room. “And you’ll have to be bait one more time.”
I sighed. “Alright. Just one more time.”
“Yes,” she said, and I felt her amusem*nt more than saw it. “Just one more time for you, my toy.”

Chapter 2: Amygdala

Chapter Text

Hauzer

“Everything’s ready, boss,” I said after putting the last pulsar snare in place.
“I know.” Her silky smooth voice rang over the intercom of the small bunker she’d — I don’t know, do you rent these things?
“Right.” I wasn’t used to her or anyone knowing what I was thinking. There was a cute junior villain that read thoughts and used them to do identity theft, but she had to be in the same room as you. This new boss was like a conductor and each thought or feeling you had was just another instrument she kept track of.
f*cking eerie.
I walked through the darkened steel corridors and bounced into Sexy Sanders — clever nickname, ain’t it? Her hair was up and her pajamas were dirty, but she had a look of focus as she made sure the control panel the boss had would make everything flow smoothly.
Like an orchestra.
I smiled at the thought and wondered if the boss lady was smiling too. It was a funny joke, but she didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor. Her smile was mostly wicked, you know? Send shivers right up and down between my —
sh*t. She can probably hear that.
sh*t. That too.
All at once my body and mind stiffened as though a string running through my spine was lifted up. The boss’s puppet string held my attention and probably the attention of Sexy Sanders.
The thoughts rolled into our minds seamlessly, as though we’d had them ourselves. Charles let us know that Aurora Flight was coming. My body moved into position while my mind focused on the text. I’ve been on some pretty f*cked up sh*t that cranked you out of your mind or made you feel like you were looking through the goddamn matrix, but this was a whole other level. My mind was perfect as the boss conducted her orchestra, moving this instrument into position.
She was a thing of devious beauty, that she was.

***

Synapse

Everyone was pissed at Io, Surya, and Korporeal. As the hoverjet shot across the city to distant mountains where Hauzer had retreated, we all knew who was to blame. We should have handled the interrogation ourselves. We should have paid more attention to the signs: the missing hostage, Hauzer’s weak defenses, and the fact that I couldn’t feel her.
They should have listened to me.
If I couldn’t feel their embarrassment and shame already, I’d be giving them more sh*t about choosing to have a party in the middle of a major mission. In my stead, Bastille and Eidolon were giving them plenty of sh*t.
“It can go faster, yeah?” Eidolon asked from the back seat.
“As fast as we can go,” Io muttered.
“What?” Eidolon yelled. “Can’t hear you back —”
“Jesus, we’re going as fast as we can,” Io shot back.
“Surya can outpace this,” Bastille said. “She can fly ahead and —”
“We’re not splitting up,” Surya said.
“Oh, why?” Eidolon asked. “Do you suddenly value the opinions of the other teams? Even if you disregard our abilities and —”
“Enough,” Io snapped. “We’re here.”
“Heads up,” I said, but everyone ignored me. It’s rough to know for certain that someone’s ears are picking up what you said but their mind is choosing to reject the signal. I, however, get that on the regular.
“Any guards?” Eidolon asked me.
I shook my head. “I don’t feel anyone there.”
Korporeal looked back at me. “But I thought —”
“Hauzer’s there,” Io said. “She didn’t try to hide it.”
“Why did she want to get caught if she was just going to walk out of custody?” Bastille asked.
“How did she walk out of custody?” Eidolon added.
“Enough,” Surya said. She looked each of us in the eye, letting her eyes flare with the radiant light of twelve suns. It was an alpha bitch move, but it always worked. Once we silenced ourselves — because no one was calming down — Surya laid out the plane. She and Kori would scout ahead. Io would wait for the word before looking for a place to land. Then Eidolon would slide in the base for an even closer look. Keep coms open. Don’t be rash. Don’t be stupid.
This was so obviously a trap.

***

Soma

The hub Elizabeth Sanders had designed was perfect. Soma could see everything within ten miles of the bunker. Within the base, there was no corner she couldn’t watch. There were four different emergency contingencies if they tried to cut the power, and if the cameras were destroyed, there were sonic and infrared detectors embedded in the floors and walls that would keep her informed. There would be no surprises for Soma as she watched her trap unfold. Each member of Aurora Flight would be taken down one by one until the true target remained.
“Time to come home,” Soma said.
She caught a flicker of original thought from Hauzer and smoothed it away. The blasted idiot wanted to shoot the hoverjet from the sky and throw Aurora Flight off their game. But panicked prey were harder to catch. It would be much better if everything went perfectly to Aurora’s Flight plan. That made them predictable.
“Set it up,” Soma commanded Elizabeth Sanders. The tired woman quickly poked at the Aurora Flight coms network in a token gesture. Io quickly blocked them out and doubled her firewalls.
Soma smiled. Poor Io, thinking everything dangerous was mechanical, thinking hacking only happened across technology. Soma sat back in her chair and sipped on her cup of tea. The humans had devised a lovely thing called Chai. It alerted the mind but calmed the nerves; all the things Soma would need for playtime.

***

Synapse

No matter how many times Io asked, I couldn’t explain how someone could become undetectable to me. If they were a person, they had to feel and think and sense. If a mind was operable, I could feel it. I could only guess that someone had the tech to block me out. Superior tech made Io nervous. Traps made me nervous.
Despite Hauzer’s fetish, there was no artillery or huge f*cking guns lining the permiter around the bunker. There didn’t even seem to be so much as an impervious wall or alarms. Io hacked the system again and again only to find it simple and vulnerable. That meant there had to be some other angle or there was more undetectable tech.
None of this eased our minds.
In the end, I was left in the jet with Io while Eidolon and Korporeal were sent to scout ahead. If anyone could escape on a dime, it was them. Meanwhile, Surya and Bastille were on standby to burst doors down and blow things up. Splitting our team up three ways didn’t feel great, but if one team was trapped, the other two would be available to save them.
While I was safe in the hoverjet, I tried to offer any help I could — which isn’t much. I had a sense how everyone in the team was feeling — mostly anxious — but I could help by trying to calm their emotions. All I had to do was sink into myself, to become an ocean of calm. The ocean swallows everything, it is roiling but it is still. It is too large to move no matter how much it contains.
I reached out and felt Eidolon’s frustration and smoothed it away like a wrinkle in a bedsheet, letting her focus on her task. She had slipped into the building with Korpereal as a spider on her shoulder. I reached out to Korporeal and smoothed away the nausea and distaste of shadowmelding with Eidolon. I tried to do the same for Eidolon, but it didn’t quite work on the jaded girl. Some emotions are too old and too deep to be casually brushed away.
I stretched my consciousness over to Surya and Bastille as they waited outside. I went to handle Bastille’s nerves, but there weren’t many. That concerned me — something about the girl was slowly deadening and becoming numb, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. But I didn’t have time for that. I noticed it at the party last night, but when I woke up, everyone was yelling about how Hauzer apparently walked out of FBI custody and we needed to go bring her back ASAP. I decided to talk to her after this and see what was going on.
In the meantime, I reached out to Surya. Besides nerves, she was bubbling with shame and embarrassment. It would probably do her ego some good to get knocked down a few pegs, but we didn’t need her worrying about that right now. Once more like smoothing out a wrinkle in a bed sheet, I eased Surya’s emotions and helped her concentrate on the task at hand. All I needed was for her to stay alert to whatever Eidolon and Korporeal reported.
“No one’s here,” Eidolon said through the coms.
“Check for traps,” Surya added.
“On it.”
“I’m doing a scan now,” Io said. I reached out to her. She was all focus. I was amazed. Not a shred of frustration for throwing a party and schmoozing with donors while a murderer and psychopath escaped. Not a hint of anxiety as we walk into the world’s most obvious trap. Just blazing focus, as though her limbic system was completely shut down. Impressive. And not entirely normal for her. She tended to err on the side of ego as she worked which lately manifested as her feeling too good to work with us.
“Hang on,” Io said. “Something’s wrong.” There was no panic in her voice or body. She spun in her chair and typed furiously on several different instruments. There was a popping in my ear, and heat built up before I took out my com piece. I sensed a similar overheating happening to the other team members.
“sh*t,” Io said.
“What’s going on?” I asked. I brought my com to my ear cautiously, but it seemed to be done crackling and burning. “Are they cutting our —”
“Working on it,” Io snapped. “Just hang on.”
Her calm was eerie as she stopped typing altogether and started sending out her electromagnetic pulses to talk directly to the machines. There was no frustration or panic as everything seemed to go wrong, and so there was nothing for me to do. Instead, I reached out to the group to send another pulse of calm over them.
Eidolon and Korporeal were deep in the bunker and making their way east when they stopped suddenly. There was a surge of fear through Korporeal and then it was almost as though her emotions ran through static, like my connection was weak with her.
“Something’s wrong,” I said. “Something with Kori.”
“sh*t sh*t sh*t,” Io said with absolutely no fluctuation in her emotional equilibrium. I brought my com to my ear to see if it worked, but there was nothing but static.
“We should send Surya and Bastille in.”
“Can’t contact them.”
“I’ll run to them while you —”
“Can’t do that.” I looked up at Io. She was no longer messing with the coms or sending pulses through the system. She touched her earpieces and said, “Coms up but damaged. Run everything through me like an operator.”
I lifted my earpiece to my head but heard nothing. “Io?” I said.
The mixed girl smirked but I felt no joy or amusem*nt in her. She was all focus, all task. It was like she had become a computer with nothing to do but auto-complete programming.
Then that emotion went static-y and cut out. There was nothing at all. No focus or amusem*nt. No pulse or somatosensory input. Nothing. I couldn’t feel her at all.
Oh no.
I shot up and ran for the door of the hoverjet but it was locked. Io laughed mirthlessly, and casually sat back down in her chair. “Still hold, Surya and Bastille. I’ll send you in a few minutes. Just want to let Eidolon and Kori have the chance to check for traps.”
I pulled on the door and shouted, but nothing happened. I pulled my earpiece to my ear and shouted into it, but nothing happened. No one heard me.

***

Soma

“We have their coms,” Soma said to Elizabeth Sanders. “Patch it in.”
Elizabeth Sanders put Aurora Flight’s coms over the hub’s speakers. “Should we enter?” said a woman in a French accent. Bastille.
“Synthesize Eidolon’s voice and tell her to wait.” Soma smiled while she sipped her tea. “Be rude about it.” With another long sip, Soma finished her tea and took her boots off the desk. She slipped in another coms device into her ear. “Time to play,” she said. “Keep me informed of their movements.”
Soma walked through the dark corridors and absentmindedly hummed a catchy human song she’d picked up since landing. “Sweet dreams are made of these,” she whispered as her hips swayed through the darkness. They let Aurora Flight cut the lights and think they were making progress in disabling their protections, but now that she had Io, Soma could easily turn them back on.
But where would be the fun in that?
“Have Io tell them to separate,” she commanded Elizabeth Sanders as she approached the position of the two women. The former CTO wasn’t a tech wizard, and she was nowhere near as capable as Io, but with a little bit of help from Soma, the woman was able to download the tech skills of her entire department and expend all her company’s resources to acquire some less than legal equipment. It was bad for business but good for Soma. Besides, it’s not like any business would keep going for much longer on this planet. There was just one lose end to tie up before initiating the Quinox Sequence.
“Are you f*cking kidding?” Korporeal asked.
“That’s an order,” Io said. “It’s taking too long and it looks like they’re going to corner you.”
“Since when do you f*cking give orders?” Eidolon snapped.
“Who am I to disagree?” Soma sang as she moved closer. These poor girls were at each other’s throat. She could feel the tension from miles away. It would only take a little push to tear them apart, but that wouldn’t be Soma’s job. That wouldn’t be nearly as fun as what she had in mind.
“Did you hear that?” Korporeal asked.
“Traveled the world and the seven seas,” Soma sang. “Everybody’s looking for something.” Her voice was soft and husky. It was pleasant in this language and with this air composition. She didn’t mind it at all.
“Kori, check it out,” Io commanded. “Eidolon head east.”
“f*ck you,” Eidolon said.
“‘Lon, that’s an order,” Surya said.
“Oh, you’re giving orders now too?”
“Seriously, do you guys not hear that?” Korporeal said.
“Hear what?” Eidolon asked.
“Sounds like singing.”
Eidolon strained her ears, but the poor things weren’t working too well. She couldn’t pick up a meteor slamming into the Earth right now unless Soma wanted her to. It was less fun dulling senses like this. Soma much preferred to enhance. Humans got so fidgety when everything was bright and loud. It was going to be a good day when she got to see them all fidget in front of her.
“I don’t hear anything,” Eidolon said.
“Let her check it out,” Io said.
“Yeah,” Surya said. “Split up. Eidolon go around the side, from the east.”
“That’s a long f*cking way around, and I can’t see worth —”
“Just step there and step back,” Bastille said. She sighed over the coms. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Synapse? You agree with this?” Eidolon asked.
“Yeah. Go.” The voice crackled. They didn’t have a lot of data on Synapse’s voice. The girl hardly talked over the coms. “The sooner you go the sooner you —”
“Get back. Yeah yeah.” Soma felt Eidolon touch Korporeal’s shoulder. “Don’t f*cking die. Call out and I’ll be right back.”
She felt Korporeal’s smile back at the poor pale girl. “I’ll slither away before anything happens.”
“Some of them want to use you,” Soma sang. Korporeal jerked her head in Soma’s direction.
“There it is,” said the shapeshifter.
“Then go,” Eidolon said. “Be fast.”
The creeping cold that disguised itself as numbness spread over Eidolon’s body as she stepped away to the other side of the bunker. The girl’s anger was delicious. She could be a beautiful lynch pin for breaking the girls if her powers were stronger. She’d made a delightful assassin. Soma knew the girl thought about it, how easily she could slide her hand into someone’s chest and pull it out again. No trace. Just shadow. But that’s not how good girls act. Not yet.
Korporeal moved down the corridor slowly, turning herself into a cat to better see in the dark. Soma hummed “Sweet Dreams” as she walked, not caring if she gave herself away. She wasn’t going to fight these girls, and they weren’t going to fight her.
Playing with Korporeal’s senses was tricky, and that was why she had to go first. The girl could edit her body which meant editing her nerve endings. Soma couldn’t craft a powerful hallucination or tantalize Korporeal’s skin. In one move, the shapeshifter could be a rhinoceros with a thick hide or a mole to fight off any tricks of the eyes. But one part of Korporeal stayed the same, more or less.
The poor girl couldn’t edit her mind.
“Lights on,” Soma commanded, and the hallway flooded with lights. In front of her was a calico cat with immaculate fur. “Oh my gosh, it’s you?” Soma said as she inflated Korporeal’s ego. “Korporeal is here to save me?”
The cat quickly shifted form into a beautiful Korean woman with rich brown eyes and short black hair. “Who are you? Are you okay?”
“I …” Soma looked around. “I’m trying to escape.”
“You’re a hostage? How many of you are there? Where are they keeping?”
“Uh, I don’t —” Soma gave a fake sniffle and fanned her face with her hand as though trying to calm down. “They didn’t keep us together, and they … they … they did things to us.”
“They? There’s more than Hauzer?”
“Who is Hauzer?” Soma shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s been dark and … oh god, thank you for being here. Thank you for saving me.”
Soma rushed forward and hugged Korporeal. The next part would have been tricky a few weeks ago when Soma first arrived on this world. Humans are sensitive tools. It wasn’t like a Zahari Berserker where you could blast their senses with wave after wave and get nothing. Humans' minds were glass, but with a little bit of heat, they could bend just enough to shape. Soma couldn’t make anyone do anything, but she could play with their senses and nerves, and that was often more than enough to bring them to your side of thinking. Elizabeth Sanders got a little thrill of erotic pleasure when she obeyed. Hauzer’s ego was inflated. Emotions were the machinery of identity, and little tweaks here and there could create a stalwart ally or an eager drone.
In the case of Korporeal, her ego was a good place to start as it was with all these people humans called supers. But she was a sensual creature. That was why Soma used Korporeal last night with tiny pulses and the attention of Charles Linder (once more, that poor ego of hers). As Soma pressed into her, she fed Korporeal’s eager savior complex, but that wouldn’t be enough.
“Did you find anything?” Io asked over coms.
“It’s a hostage,” Korporeal said. Soma kept holding onto the Korean woman and pretended to sob in her arms. Korporeal wrapped her arms around her and held her tight.
“Take her someplace safe,” Io commanded. “Not out. Find a holding room or —”
“There’s a bunk in here,” Soma said. “I can hide there until —”
“Do it,” Io said. “Stay with her, Kori.”
“Right.”
Soma dragged Kori by the hand into an empty room with a bare bed. Meanwhile, Io carefully orchestrated Surya and Bastille to enter a side door that Eidolon opened for them. Soma needed them all to stay where she could find them later and where they wouldn’t disturb her.
Once in the room, Soma increased Korporeal’s sense of boredom and restlessness. It helped make time seem to drag on, as though they’d been trapped in this room for hours. Soma spun a story about how she was a famous actress and model from LA, and with the slightest lowering of suspicion and inhibition, Korporeal ate it up. They were able to conjure a wild theory that Hauzer and some other villains were gathering the most influential people in the world to help them shape culture and public opinion. Soma was apparently wildly popular in the highest echelons of fashion. That was why Korporeal had never heard of her, but it was true.
“And you act?” Korporeal asked. She was eating it up just like Charles Lindner. The chance to be around someone who wasn’t nearly as powerful as this shapeshifter but simply popular and influential was more than Korporeal could take. She almost forgot about the mission entirely as she found a new best friend that would take her to the right parties and introduce her to the right people.
“Oh, right, um…” Soma said. “Yeah. That’s how I got my start I guess. Dancing and then acting.”
“Would I have seen you in anything?”
Soma looked down, trying to look embarrassed for the first time in her life. “I don’t think so.”
“Foreign stuff or —”
“Mostly adult films.” Soma swallowed. “p*rn, I guess.”
Korporeal was forced to find this hilarious, fascinating, and arousing all at once. “Oh that?” she said with a wave of her hand. “That’s nothing.”
“Other people don’t like to —”
“I’m not other people,” Korporeal said.
Soma looked up and gave her a bashful but grateful smile. “Thanks.”
From there, Soma moved closer and closer to Korporeal. They were talking about what it was like to do p*rn, and so the shapeshifter wouldn’t be bothered by some arousal building in her body. Soma started slowly and carefully turned up the temperature in Korporeal’s body. One degree at a time, the shapeshifter would never notice she was melting for a perfect stranger in the middle of a dangerous base. As her inhibitions lowered, she wouldn’t care about the propriety of kissing Soma, of f*cking her right there and then, of letting every guard down and abandoning her team.
Humans were too easy.
She discussed how she did high quality taboo p*rn, the kind of stuff that doesn’t sell well to the masses but the elite, perverted, and powerful would eat it up. Dark stuff. From there, she had a girlfriend that introduced her to the right people. She got out of p*rn to do modeling and fashion, and now she had a vast empire of underground contacts no one wanted to mention because it was all rooted from watching people do twisted and delightful things to Soma’s body.
Soma kept acting as ashamed as she could while putting her hand on Korporeal’s exposed thigh. She enjoyed the shallow breathing of her prey as the poor girl was putty in her hands. Nothing made humans more malleable than sex. It was as good as being drugged but all the wiring for it was in their own bodies. It made them betray their better judgment time and time again. They would even return to it, knowing it was poisoned. All of their bodies were designed to do two things: survive and f*ck. Whereas Soma’s people had a third drive in their DNA: conquer.
“Do you … um … do you still …” Korporeal swallowed. She was so turned on she was almost bashful.
“Still do p*rn?” Soma said. She brushed her hair out of her face, trying to stay cute and shy.
“Uh, yeah?”
“Well, not exactly.” Soma moved closer and let her hand move further up Korporeal’s thigh, letting a powerful pulse of erotic energy ripple through her target’s body.
Korporeal closed her eyes and stifled a moan.
Soma stifled a laugh.
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?” Korporeal asked.
“I don’t know if we should be talking about this, Korporeal,” Soma said. “I mean, I can’t believe I’m being rescued by one of the most powerful and beautiful women in the world and all she wants to talk about it —”
“Sorry,” Korporeal said quickly. Silence descended on them. Soma quickly knocked away any shame Korporeal was feeling and flipped it on itself. It was taboo to f*ck a hostage instead of save her, but humans were drawn to the taboo. Korporeal shouldn’t be ashamed by how she was acting; she should be aroused by it.
“And call me Kori,” she said quietly.
“You mean it?”
Korporeal bit her lip and nodded. Soma bit her lip too, smiled, and turned away shyly.
Soma was getting tired of this petty game. She had other toys to play with. She amped up Korporeal’s arousal. The thighs were such a lovely part of human anatomy. It wasn’t just the wonderful clusters of nerve endings or the overwhelming amount of life force with those precious veins. It was the human mentality of it. Their taboos once again would be their downfall. If someone touched a thigh, it was a tease and a promise. Thighs were too close to genitalia, and genitalia were sacred and profane in one breath.
Soma simply made Korporeal’s thighs more sensitive. It was a game to her, a challenge. Could she break this woman with nothing but thighs? A superhero. A woman trained against traps but whose vanity and ego was too large to succeed?
At first, it was just her clothing that made Korporeal squirm. She wore an almost kind of spandex rubber suit like most of Aurora Flight. It didn’t have to be stretchy because Korporeal’s clothes shifted with her skin into her new forms, but Korporeal liked the stretch anyways. She liked the way it hugged her body. She liked that she could make her hips wider or her ass bigger or breasts larger and the fabric would strain against them. She liked to be looked at and adored. She liked to flirt and tease. She could be anything she wanted, and all she wanted was to be adored.
Soma caught Korporeal’s gaze and held it this time. She let her expression change gradually as the strange hostage Korporeal found no longer looked shy and scared. Soma looked at Korporeal with a deep hunger, the kind of hunger building over Korporeal’s thighs and between her legs. Soma wanted Korporeal to know that she felt what the super felt.
And she wanted more.
With subtlety, Soma let her fingertips glide over Korporeal’s thighs. It was slight, like a fidget, but even that was enough to force Korporeal to suppress a moan. She closed her eyes, as the pleasure spread through her body like fire in a dry field.
Soma breathed on the flame, letting the heat of pleasure spread up Korporeal’s stomach, to her breasts which expanded as they melted Korporeal’s self control. Soma smirked as Korporeal’s neck and cheeks turned pale and then bright red.
“That’s —” Soma bit her lip and moved her free hand to Korporeal’s neck, acting shocked at the transformation.
“Sorry,” Korporeal said breathily.
“Beautiful,” Soma said. She kept moving closer and landed a gentle kiss on Korporeal’s neck. Then she cranked it all the way up, letting lightning shock every nerve in Korporeal’s body. The poor super felt as aroused by her elbow as she did by her nipples and cl*t.
This time, Korporeal didn’t suppress her moan, and Soma knew she had her.

Chapter 3: Thermoception

Chapter Text

Eidolon

“Io?” I said for what must have been the seven-hundredth time today. “Hello?”
“Just stand-by,” Io ‘commanded.’ What gave her the right to f*cking command anyone? No. f*ck that sh*t.
“Right. Standing by.” I took my com out of my ear and casually slipped it into one of the pouches on my utility belt. Io didn’t tell me where Korporeal is or what’s happening. I left Surya and Bastille and now I’m standing by while they do the hero thing. Nevermind that I could find a hostage faster than anyone else. Nevermind that I could probably disable whatever is dampening Synapse. Hell, nevermind that maybe this dampening thing is distance-based and Synapse should be in here with us instead of listening to Io pontificate about the glory of hero-work.
“Nevermind all of this,” I said as I shook my head. “I swear I need to get off this team.” It’s not like I’m going to join another team. My appearance makes people uncomfortable enough (I swear Io and Surya are this close to asking me to step out of team photos), but my powers are worse than my looks. One little girl asked if I stepped through Hell when I went through objects. That was four years ago, but I think about it every day.
Maybe, kid. May—f*cking—be.
My feet slipped into shadow to silence them. I didn’t know the physics of running on non-corporeal feet, but I wasn’t paid well enough to ask these kinds of questions. I knew that my feet were both through the door and not at the same time. Technically, it wasn’t a matter thing. I moved through shadow, but shadow is just an absence of light. It’s a hole. It isn’t a thing you can manipulate, but somehow I did. It was like I could push aside light but with that came the ability to simply push aside matter or make it incredibly thin. That’s about as far as I understood it, but that was more than enough to make it work, save lives, and listen to Io’s speeches.
Too much time thinking about Io.
f*ck Io.
I went to the last place I remember Korporeal being. Despite my requests, the rest of the team wasn’t giving updates on her location or activity. Surya and Bastille were announcing their actions like sports-casters, but Korporeal’s chatter stopped suddenly. She was either in animal form or acting suspiciously non-Kori-like. Or at least, it should have been suspicious to anyone with a brain on this team which leaves myself and Synapse.
Another oddly quiet person this morning.
I braced myself for the cold of shadow — or Hell as some five-year-old scholars speculated — to hit a full sprint through each wall of the compound. Without the lights on here, the building was more like a swimming pool to me as I slid between matter without light easily. Since things were already dark, I didn’t experience the sudden draining of color from the world or the eerie black and white universe. I went straight to the Gray World, which was always somehow more terrifying than absolute darkness. Darkness gives you the hope that with light, there would be something to reality. In Gray, there is no hope of shape or contrast. Everything is gone except you, and even that starts to bleed into the Gray. Where do you think my youth and vitality went? Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if my hope and optimism bled into the Gray at one point or another.
I’ve thought before that if we ever fight a truly nasty villain — not the bank robbers and terrorists were normally deal with — like some cosmic earth-rending sh*t that the League deals with all the time, that I could just take them into the Grey and leave them there. I knew it was between places, but the terror of the Grey is the thought that you might stay there forever. Just the thought of being between realities for all time is enough to make people hate me. Hell, Io never lets me shadowmeld with her unless it’s an absolute I’m-about-to-f*cking-die emergency. She may hate me, but if I’m a heinous bitch, it’s only because the Grey made me that way.
I guess everyone’s afraid to end up like me.
I heard someone shout, “Oh f*ck, yes. Right there. f*ck.” I jerked out of my sprint and leapt out of the Grey to find two people f*cking in the middle of a hostage situation. The room was unlit like all the others, so I slunk to the corners and muffled any sounds by leaving half myself in the walls. But all the stealth prep and training in the world didn’t stop me from gasping once I got a grip on what’s happening.
On a bed across from me Korporeal is getting f*cked by an absolute stranger with bright cobalt blue hair. Now, when I say f*cked, I mean plowed. Rammed. Slaughtered in a way that I imagined was absolutely heavenly. Kori on her back, ass up in the air, legs spread wide. She must have been cushioned or do a ton of f*cking yoga (probably yoga) because her weight was on her shoulders and she seemed to be bent in half while the stranger pounded her with a strap-on. Korporeal’s suit was still around her torso, but it was ripped to shreds from the waist down as though it burst from the inside.
The woman f*cking Kori was still clothed, however. She had a full goth girl vibe mixed with some punk biker or rocker chick chic in her leather jacket, leather pants, and thigh high boots. Come to think of it, there was an almost dominatrix vibe to her, and the way she was f*cking Kori — looming over my teammate and dropping her strap-on down like she was drilling for oil — definitely completed the domme energy.
Kori gripped the sides of the bed and kept moaning, getting louder and becoming less coherent as she begged this woman to f*ck her harder and go deeper. Her partner was listening because she didn’t rock back and forth quickly. No, speed was not nearly as important to this woman as power. She took her time before adding another thrust, and it seemed as though she was hoping to strike Kori perfectly so that she could split the shapeshifter in two. With each strike, Kori changed shape again. She never turned into an animal — thank god — but her hair color, skin-color, face shape, features, etc changed with each thrust.
“f*ck meeee,” Kori squealed. I didn’t know how the rest of the team couldn’t hear her.
Thrust. The stranger didn’t talk as she f*cked my teammate. Her face had perfect concentration and calculation.
Thrust.
Kori changed into a beautiful pale skinned girl with dark-brown and curly hair with full red lips and an elegant nose. “Plus fort,” she yelled in French.
Thrust.
Kori changed into a dark-skinned and bald woman with a nose-ring and large, captivating eyes. “Jin si,” she said in a language I didn’t recognize. It came out like a roar.
Thrust.
Kori changed into a beautiful and curvy Latina woman with long and silky black hair and rich purple lips. “Mas rapida,” she said in Spanish. Her voice was breathy and cracking as the stranger struck her again, harder and harder.
Thrust.
I couldn’t look away, though I guess I should have done something. Any sane person would have said something or at least left the room, but I couldn’t do either. Fascination bubbled up inside of me. I’ve always been this way. I guess it comes with the skulker power-set but the idea of watching people when they think you can’t see them, like watching Io sleep or talk to herself when she works on a project in her room late at night. Who could resist studying the most private parts of a human life?
Thrust.
Suddenly, the stranger turned and looked at me in the corner of the room, which should be impossible. Which was impossible. I wasn’t exactly invisible, but I could weave shadow over me like a cloak. The only person who could see me would be someone who could sense me like Synapse, but she couldn’t pick up anything in this building. I doubt Synapse could even feel Kori being f*cked to oblivion by this beautiful blue-haired woman. I doubt she could feel the arousal and interest building in this room like it was about to pop.
Thrust.
The stranger didn’t take her eyes away from me as she f*cked Kori. There was something in her eyes that held me in place — neither permitting me to leave nor inviting me to join. Any repulsion or disgust melted from me as I watched her slam into Kori over and over again. It wasn’t that two women f*cking bothered me; Kori brought girls to the base all the time. Io was into girls, and I guess … maybe me too. Well, after watching this, it was becoming much less of a maybe. I didn’t fight the arousal spreading over me. It felt as though I was a part of this act, like Kori had invited me to be in her threesome and somehow I agreed. Somehow this stranger made me agree.
Thrust.
For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to be f*cked like that, but I didn’t entertain the thought for long. I was split open by the Gray regularly. I wasn’t interested in having a lover do that to me. But what about doing that to someone else? What about bending someone over her workshop desk and f*cking her hard until she begged for me to do it deeper and faster?
Thrust.
What about shutting her the f*ck up from her high-and-mighty attitude?
Thrust.
Imagine her getting off coms for once and just moaning like the moron she is?
Thrust.
Imagine her looking at me and begging me to f*ck her instead of looking for the next photo-op?
Thrust.
A photo-op without me.
Thrust.
Making it hurt. God. Making her hurt for all the times she looked over me.
Thrust.
Looked through me.
Thrust.
Like I’m nothing.
Thrust.
Not even a shadow.
Thrust.
Just f*cking Gray.
Thrust.
I’d make it hurt.
Thrust.
Make it hurt.
Thrust.
Hurt her.
Thrust.
The stranger nodded at me before suddenly pulling the strap-on out of Kori’s puss*. In one swift motion — before Kori or I knew what was happening — the stranger switched holes and plunged the strap-on deep into Kori’s ass. Kori’s moan transformed into something beyond a shriek or a roar. It was more like a death rattle as every bone in her body surrendered, every muscle tightened, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her mind shut off, and I was no better. My knees buckled and before I knew how or why, I was fumbling to get my hands between my legs. I clawed at the zipper of my suit, missing the latches and straps as I couldn’t take my eyes off Kori and this beautiful blue-haired woman. I wanted to be there, looming over Kori, watching that stupid smirk finally washed off all her faces as her body went limp and the stranger kept f*cking her. Kept thrusting.
Thrust.
Kori’s legs quivered and spasmed as the org*sm passed and she slipped into some kind of trance or sleep.
Thrust.
Kori’s changed into a mousy Korean girl with almond shaped eyes and pale skin. She looked frail and weak, but somehow that made it better. Made me want her.
Thrust.
The stranger didn’t stop. Kori couldn’t resist, couldn’t even feel the pleasure of it, but it wasn’t for her.
Thrust.
The stranger looked at me while she kept f*cking her.
Thrust.
This was for me.
Thrust.
My hands ripped away my suit, but as I was about to plunge my hand into my panties, blaring pure UV light washed over the room, stronger than I’ve seen before, stronger than was natural. Immediately, straps came out of the walls and wrapped around my wrists, elbows, stomach, ankles, thighs, and neck. I tried to slip into shadow, but there was none. Even behind me, the room was pure light in every direction. It was blinding and paralyzing.
The stranger smirked and slid out of Kori. I tried and failed not to stare at the slick strap-on that dangled between her legs as she sauntered towards me.
“What a f*cked up little mind you have,” the stranger said. Her voice was soft and silky, almost young but still there was something husky and dangerous in it. She bent down and kissed me on the lips. I should have snarled or bit at her. I should have tried to find a shadow between our lips.
I should have done anything but melt into it.
“Not yet,” the woman said with a sad smile when she broke our kiss. She ran a finger over my cheek. “Not yet.”
She turned and walked away, the strap-on still hanging low between her legs, taunting and tantalizing me as much as threatening me.
“Until then, I’d think of what to say when people find you two this way.” She turned, winked, blew me a kiss, and slipped out into the hallway. She closed the door behind her, and I was trapped in the light with my hand in my panties while Kori slept softly, sweaty and sticky on the bed.

***

Synapse

“sh*t,” Io said as she finally turned to me. “We need to go in. Now.”
“What?”
“Let’s go.” She tossed me a stun-gun. “She’s got Eidolon.”
“Hauzer?”
Io shook her head and opened the door to the hoverjet. “Someone else. Let’s go.” She hopped out and left me stranded, which was a surprising reversal considering she’d locked me in the jet an hour or so ago. She said that she needed me to stay here and make sure I wasn’t compromised, that there was someone — maybe Hauzer — that was directly targeting me and my powers. She took me off coms in case it was a tech-attack and said that her systems were compromised, suspecting that someone had broken through her firewalls.
I’d never seen her so paranoid before.
The confident and ambitious super I practically grew up around was suddenly irritable, rude, and … scared. Not that I could feel her. Like normal people, I had to figure that out simply by reading her body language and the way she snapped at the team over coms. She went numb to my powers, and whatever cloaked her must have spiked her anxiety. She was acting like a rookie.
But that wasn’t the only thing that concerned me.
One by one, the other members of Aurora Flight went dark. For a while, I could keep track of Surya and Bastille, but once they went into the building, it was like they stepped off the face of the earth. If coms were compromised like Io said, we were completely blind and walking into an absolute trap.
It’s a good thing Io was keeping a level head about it.
Io took point as we headed into the building, and I did my usual stay-thirty-feet-back-and-absolutely-do-not-get-shot routine. She cleared all corners and told me when it was safe to move. I held my stun-gun too tight and risked stunning myself as we walked through the absolute darkness. Io could keep up a faint glow with her pulses, but a blue night-light did nothing against the crippling shadow of Hauzer’s new military-grade base.
Suddenly, a wave of heat ran up over my skin like I was stepping into an oven. I squeaked and stepped back, and Io was by my side in a second.
“What is it?” she asked.
I closed my eyes and tried to get control of my senses. I urged my nerve endings to relax, but they were still a little fried from last night’s debacle with Korporeal and her lover. I urged the heat — or rather the idea of heat — out of my body and trailed it back to the source. Two people on the other side of the base — heat and numbness.
“I’ve got Surya and Bastille,” I said.
“Where?”
“Other side of the building.”
“Are they okay?”
“I … I think so.”
“Let’s get sure,” Io snapped.
“Right, sorry.” I closed my eyes and tried to center myself. I was entirely off balance. It was like my powers weren’t working at all or were trapped in overdrive. It was not the way you want to do things when lives are on the line.
Surya was just an infinite source of heat, like she was going nuclear, but I heard no explosions and saw no light pouring down the hallways. And whatever Surya was doing, it was affecting Bastille. I mean, actually affecting her. Bastille’s skin is impervious to pretty much everything, and lately I’ve noticed a general numbness as though her sense of touch was dying. But her sense of heat seemed to be working just fine, because as the heat spread over her skin, something was stirring inside of Bastille.
Oh God.
I gasped and stepped back as some of the feedback loop I felt with Kori last night happened all over again. But instead of me feeling the heat over Bastille’s skin and her feeling me feeling her, it was pleasure. Not heat. Pleasure.
Bastille was turned on.
Turned on like I’d never sensed from her before.
Not that I normally keep an eye on how turned on people are, but people tend to get turned on unexpectedly and it’s exhausting to shield myself from people’s emotions constantly. Since I hit puberty, I recognized when someone sleeping a few rooms away was touching themselves in the middle of the night. There was no shame in it, and I quickly turned off any connection, rolled over, and went to sleep, but I didn’t have to do that with Bastille.
I’ve never had to do that with Bastille.
But whatever was happening where they were was turning Bastille on like some kind of hot wax fetish. The heat from Surya was penetrating her numbness, and Bastille was enjoying a heavenly melt. I felt her sink to her knees and moan in delight. I tried to sense Surya — to see what she was doing amidst all this — but it was too hot to sense. It was an inferno.
“What is it?” Io said while she shook me. “Synapse?”
“It’s Surya,” I said. I tried to break the connection and shield myself, but it was too much and too bright. “She’s going nuclear or something.”
“sh*t,” Io grumbled. “Let’s go.”
She grabbed my hand and ran through the hallways. “Slow down,” I said. “Could be a —” A moan escaped my lips and my knees buckled. Something was … oh god. The heat died a little as something started licking Surya’s cl*t. No. Not someone. Bastille. I felt it on her tongue. Amidst the heat and sweat of wherever they were, there was pleasure between Surya’s legs and on Bastille’s tongue. It ran over my body and paralyzed me.
I moaned again and fell to the floor, barely able to resist touching myself. The feedback loop started again, but now Surya was in the mix. All three of us were linked because I couldn’t keep my powers under control.
Io pulled on me again. She was saying something, but I couldn’t hear her. Instead I heard Bastille yelling in French at the top of her lungs. I heard Surya’s roars as she held Bastille’s head between her legs and forced the juggernaut to go deeper.
I felt a third person in the room.
She was cold, but she wasn’t numb. Sensing her was like catching a flickering shadow, but what I did get was anticipation. Not arousal, but more a sense of amusem*nt.
The sense of her shook me out of whatever loop I was trapped in. I calmed my powers down and slowly got to my feet, but Io wasn’t waiting for me. She pulled on my hand, and we hurtled through the darkness to look for our friends. I didn’t know why they were f*cking in the middle of a rescue mission, but I pushed those questions aside. If I thought about them f*cking, I was tempted to check in on them again, to see if they were still f*cking, to see how they were f*cking, and then I’d be caught in the loop again.
But before we could reach them, Hauzer stepped into the hallway with a light attached to an impossibly large gun. Io’s nerves kept her on her feet though, and in one movement she pushed me to the side and put up enough of a pulse to act as a shield from the torrent of bullets flying down the hallway towards us.
“Go,” Io growled as she ducked to the side and sent pale blue blasts of energy towards the madwoman. “Find Surya and Bastille.”
I nodded and crawled away from the gunfire. Io would be fine, especially if Hauzer was going to be as lame as she was yesterday. Even if she wasn’t, it wasn’t like I could do anything to help. I still couldn’t feel Hauzer, so I doubted I could knock her out with some sensory overload.
I stumbled through the darkness, hoping that no other thugs stepped out of the darkness to shoot me. But it wasn’t a thug that found me in the end.
A door closed behind me, and a light came on at the same moment. Sitting casually in front of a huge console attached to a laboratory and a giant tube filled with pale green liquid, was a woman. She had a leather jacket, leather pants, and thigh high boots. Her skin was tanned and rich brown. Her face was narrow, and her eyes were sharp and cruel, even when she smiled at my arrival. But it was her hair that I noticed first. Bright cobalt blue, solid and rich.
Blue like mine.
“Hello,” she said as she turned away from her console, casually standing up as though the butler stepped in to offer her tea. I tried to read through the calm in her voice and the softness in her expression, but she was hidden from me like Huazer, Eidolon, and Kori. “It’s about time you arrived.”
Her voice was the silkiest thing I’d ever heard, like there was a song in it. It reminded me of velvet running over my spine, sending tingles up my neck and over my scalp. But that could have been the fear because I recognized something in that voice.
That same shadow that watched Surya and Bastille f*ck was in her voice. It flickered for just a second, and I stepped back as I recognized the trap latch itself around me. But there was nowhere to go. A solid door kept me trapped in the villain's lab, the true villain.
“I know, quite the cliche,” she said, looking around at the lab. “Though I don’t know if it counts seeing as I’m new here. I guess my original is your been-there-done-that.” Her smile widened, and I did not like it at all. My body should have been panicking. I should have been full of adrenaline and the desire to rip her throat out or run like hell, but it wasn’t.
“Not quite as fun when someone does it to you, is it?” she asked.
“Does what?”
She clicked her tongue and shook her head slightly. “Ignorance has been your shield for too long. Here, let me make things plain.”
She spread her arms, and then I could feel her. I gasped as I recognized something strange and wonderful in her, something in her that I had not found in any other person before. She was a feeler, like me, but more than that. She wasn’t human despite her appearances. There was a different nervous system, like a second nervous system, that ran through her.
The same one that ran through me.
And then I felt her.
A door opened up in my mind, one that I had kept close for so long that I forgot I was still holding the handle. Everything I did with my powers was at half of my full capacity while I trapped away one part of myself, but now that door was wide, and all of my powers rushed through me. It was like a new kind of adrenaline, one that ramped up my mind and powers, sending them into an emergency and desperation mode. All at once, I felt every body for miles around the base. I felt wildlife. I felt flora and fauna.
And I felt what was happening in the base.
I felt Kori sleeping soundly with her body at rest and her ass sore from being f*cked. I felt Eidolon trapped in place and only wishing to be free so that she could touch herself. I felt Bastille sliding her hand into Surya, both superpowered women practically destroying the base as Bastille plowed Surya. Bastille’s lust had turned to a kind of battle-rage, and Surya’s ego was making Bastille her stupid f*ck-toy to reach higher and darker heights. I felt Io calmly offering Hauzer help with Elizabeth Sanders as they worked to improve Soma’s tech security.
That name.
Soma.
As it touched my mind, it was like a single drop of dye into a vast pool. I watched as the clear water of my mind turned to bright pink as Soma spread through me, cloudy and rich, shaping and darkening me. It showed me that Eidolon’s nerve endings were like strings on a puppet. I could make her so aroused that to stop touching herself was impossible. I could numb Kori to the point that she would beg me to make her feel anything — even pain. I could push Surya to challenge Bastille to go deeper and harder until the juggernaut split her in two. They could kill each other with just a few pushes. Heighten aggression. Lower inhibition. Clouded judgment. Add lust. Shrink connections to the prefrontal cortex. Cripple the amygdala. I could do it. I could control them as easily as Soma controlled Io and Hauzer.
I saw their nervous systems tainted with the same pink stain of Soma’s influence. Stroke the ego. Twist desires. Build feelings of betrayal. Increase anxiety. Reduce trust. Spike fear. It was like following a recipe to get what you wanted, and behind it all was Soma.
“All you’ve ever needed was a little push,” Soma whispered in my mind. Her voice was soothing to the heat of Surya and the rage of Bastille. I eased into it, pressing my cheek against it like a cat.
Then all the doors opened. All at once, Soma disappeared from my senses. Or rather, she consumed them. In one moment, I was no longer Synapse, but I was all of them. They were extensions of my own nervous system. I was f*cking Bastille, feeling her fist pump in and out while she slammed me against the wall. I was Bastille with the sweat finally pouring down my brow, so thirsty for pleasure that I’ll take pain. It’s close enough. It’s all close enough. All I need to do is find something hot enough, push Surya a little further, a little harder. Make her wet, make her desperate, make her stupid enough to hurt me. But when she begged me to stop, said I was pushing her too far, something opened in me that was deep and hungry, an abyss that longed to be filled and never could be. I was Eidolon in the rage that I couldn’t hurt Io the way Soma hurt Kori. I was in rage that I couldn’t touch myself, couldn’t rule the way I was being ruled. I was Io, done with the team, finally letting them get what they deserved. I was ready to be the only survivor, give a moving speech at the funeral, and apply for a better team. I was Kori, finally at rest, finally getting the f*cking and beating I deserved. Someone finally saw me, and they told me the truth — I was ugly. I was nothing. I was just a mirage, the reflection of other people’s desire. Without that, I was just a puss* barely worth f*cking.
All of it. All of their pain. All of their pleasure. All of their darkness. All of their brokenness. In one moment, I was each and every one of them, but I wasn’t Soma. They were rivers, and she was an ocean. She was opaque to me, and what she had let me see was just a window of all she was.
But some part of me wanted to see it all.
The rest of me passed out as blackness took my mind.

Chapter 4: Cerebellum

Chapter Text

Eidolon

After a long day with doctors, the FBI, the CIA, Homeland Security, an interview from some snooty asshole representative from the League, and listening to the FBI and CIA argue with each other endlessly, no one wanted to listen to a run-down meeting with Io. Hell, I don’t think Io even wanted to give a whole speech about how we f*cked up but we’ll do better tomorrow and Synapse is going to be okay and we’ll get her back and a whole bunch of rhetorical niceties and inspirational bullsh*t that she picked up from whatever self-help book aspiring superhero team leaders study.

Cause seriously, they all pull from the same material.

We wanted showers and sleep. Some of us wanted to hit the gym and see if we could sweat out the frustration. I know Kori and I were both looking forward to a drink or seven (definitely separately after this morning’s debacle, though she didn’t know or understand why), and Bastille would probably sit in her room and stew. To each their own, however we processed it, the problem was the same: we f*cked up.

I was left paralyzed in that room watching Kori sleep for a few hours. Then the lights cut out in our room and turned on in the rest of the compound. I woke Kori up (and definitely didn’t mention all the f*cked up sh*t I’d seen), and we went looking for the rest of the team. I didn’t ask Kori what happened to her, and she wasn’t forced to give me some bullsh*t answer that wasn’t, “I got seduced by the villain and let let her f*ck me stupid.”

Luckily, that meant I didn’t need to explain that I watched the villain f*ck her stupid and secretly wanted the villain to do more to her. To do worse.

Whatever the f*ck that means to my twisted libido and apparent lack of morality.

We found Io unconscious in some kind of command room with the missing CTO, Elizabeth Sanders, and Hauzer. Luckily, we were able to wake Io up, but we didn’t have the same luck with the other two. Hauzer and Sanders were comatose, total vegetables with almost all brain activity fried though their autonomous nerve system seemed to be working fine, keeping them breathing and all that sh*t.

A few minutes later, Bastille and Surya showed up. One was covered in bruises and the other in burns (which I didn’t think was possible for either of them), but they claimed they didn’t remember what happened to them. No one believed them, but considering the level of f*cked-up we all just dealt with, we weren’t going to pry (not that the subsequent assholes that spent the rest of the day interviewing us showed the same courtesy).

Here is what we were able to sort out: we were dealing with some mental powered super that was using Hauzer like a puppet and it seemed had the ability to use some of us like puppets (because it was all totally against our will, right?). This same super took Synapse and there didn’t seem to be much of a struggle — which also confirms the mind control theory. Our best guess was that Synapse was the original target because of all the dampening and Synapse protection the super had.

But as for what happened to each of us and the perverted (yet pleasurable) way the villain kept us all busy while she lured Synapse in, we haven’t said a word. Nothing. Barely getting freaking eye-contact. So while the lack of an Io inspirational speech was appreciated, it was genuinely shocking. I didn’t know Io had a sense of shame. Good to know.

But I spent my time trying to find a one-on-one chat with Korporeal. I didn’t know which was more embarrassing for her: that I found her in her true form or that I found her naked. Either way, she immediately transformed into a voluptuous and curvy black woman as soon as she realized I was looking at her sweaty and used body.

“Hey Kori,” I said as I knocked on her door. “I brought tea.”

“No thanks.” Her voice was soft and frail, not a choice I would have gone with if I could have any voice in the world.

“With bourbon in it.”

The door opened. Kori stood as a tan white girl with a — I don’t f*cking know — basic-ass-Instagram-influencer-blonde-beach-bitch vibe. She was all sun-kissed and beautiful but she had no make-up on (though she’d chosen the kind of pretty that didn’t need makeup, of-f*cking course). All in all, she had the right body to be the sexy center of attention that Kori preferred, but none of it matched her eyes or posture. She looked one second away from crumpling into nothing.

Jesus, how could I have missed how weak she was?

I lifted up the tea. “Want some?”

“As long as it doesn’t entitle you to talking.”

“Me? Talking? Never.”

Kori smiled slightly and stepped out of the way, letting me into her bedroom. You’d think she’d have some posh nonsense with modern furniture and lots of natural lighting for her selfies, but Kori’s room was honestly juvenile. She had pink walls and Christmas lights strung around with posters of celebrities she admired. I tried not to let the overly girly-girl vibe infect me as I sat on her bed, and she sat next to me. She took the cup of tea and took a long sip, sighing as the bourbon burned her throat a bit.

“That’s good,” she said.

“I thought we had a no talking policy.”

“Oh, right.” She smiled at me but went quiet.

We sat in silence. Kori finished her tea and kicked her feet softly. I wasn’t going to crack first. Yes, I was here to talk — obviously — but I hadn’t thought of how to start the conversation. ‘Did you enjoy the way she f*cked you stupid?’ ‘Don’t worry, I was desperate to touch myself while she bent you in half?’ ‘You look beautiful in your true form?’ ‘I’m sorry I wanted her to hurt you?’ ‘I’m sorry it turned me on when she did?’ ‘Did she force you like she forced me or …’

Or were none of us seduced at all?

“Synapse was better at not talking,” I said.

Kori snorted. “She cheated.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s better than bourbon.”

“Don’t knock bourbon.”

The silence settled over us again, but Kori wasn’t opening up, and I didn’t have time to pretend to be a therapist. I guess I just wanted some piece of mind after what I saw, but I don’t think Kori or anyone else was going to give it to me.

“I’m going downstairs,” I said. “I’m going to help Io.” I stood and expected Kori to say one last thing. Maybe she’d encourage me to find Synapse or softly thank me for checking in on her, but the shapeshifter said nothing as I left her room. I couldn’t blame her, and at the same time, I absolutely did my best to f*cking blame her.

Io was looking over seventeen different monitors simultaneously when I entered her private “workshop.” Technically, she didn’t look at any monitors when she was deep in the zone. She sent little pulses, and they sent pulses back. I guess they talked like plants or whales or some sh*t, but either way, Io could do this with her eyes closed and the superfluous amount of monitors was just some bizarre flex.

“I’m busy,” she said as I came in.

“I’m here to help.”

“How many databases can you search in a millisecond?”

“f*ck you, that’s how many.”

Io paused and turned to me with a condescending smirk on her grin. “That’s what I thought.”

“Does it feel good to be a raging bitch?”

Io shrugged and went back to her work. “Does it feel good to be absolutely useless?”

“Oh because your powers were just what we needed when we —”

The monitors cut off as Io whipped around. “Look who’s talking. You got trapped by light. Really? We can’t take you out on sunny days now?”

“I wasn’t the one that buffed their security or cut off our coms. Seriously, we could have worked as a team but once again, there was no room for your ego and the rest of —”

“Get out,” she said and whipped around again. The monitors flickered on as she went back to work. I lingered for a second, then with a huff, I stormed out of the room. As I rushed down the hallways to my room, I had the rest of the argument in my head. Each time I imagined it, I tried to steer it back to Synapse and how we can save her and what leads we had and what leads we needed. But no matter how it went, I knew Io was going to make it about she’d figure it out on her own. Then I’d say something bitchy about how she’d make sure the press knew it was all thanks to her that Synapse was back. Then she’d snap about how at least she didn’t watch while Korporeal was …

“f*ck,” I sighed. I stood in front of my room with absolutely nothing to do in there. My crumbling team wasn’t in there. Synapse wasn’t in there. The key to finding Synapse wasn’t there. Neither was the mysterious blue-haired villain.

The mysterious blue-haired villain I couldn’t stop thinking about.

I tried to convince myself that I never told the interviewers about Korporeal’s sexcapades because of Kori’s privacy. Or maybe it was the shame that I stood and watched while Kori was f*cked by a villainess. Or maybe I couldn’t explain the arousal I felt in the light, watching Kori get what she deserved, watching her hurt in the most beautiful way imaginable. Or maybe it was because I didn’t want them knowing about the blue-haired woman. I didn’t want them to find her first.

A new plan formed in my mind, and my body moved as my mind caught up to what it was planning. All I had to do was watch and wait. Sure, most of what Io did was in her head, but the monitors still displayed everything she was doing. I already had a lead — no one else knew about blue-hair — so all I needed to do was extend that lead a bit.

I didn’t cringe at the rush of the Gray over my body as I stepped through the wall and hid myself in the shadows of Io’s workshop. I was too excited, too focused, too … aroused. I can’t deny that whatever made blue-hair compelling was certainly sexual, and the idea of finding her — especially finding her before Io — made me giddy. I didn’t get to say anything to her last time. There was a moment I thought she heard my thoughts, thought that maybe she understood what I felt and desired. If she’s a mental super, that makes sense, so maybe she did hurt Kori because I wanted her to. Maybe it was my fault.

But maybe she’d do it again if I asked her.

While I watched Io work, I tried to focus on the screens, I promise. But instead, Io was in her skin-tight super suit. At one point, she zipped it down as she started to sweat due to the absurd amount of computers in the room. The tiniest bit of her neck, her collarbone, was enough to drive me back to familiar fantasies. She was a bitch, and all I wanted to do was to pin her up against the wall and hear her whimper in pain and delight. I wanted my hand on her throat as she begged me to f*ck her. Maybe I would. Maybe I’d slide my hand through the shadow, piercing her clothing and slipping inside of her, f*cking her in Gray and letting the numbing cruelty of it all spread over her body while I took my pleasure from her, while I dropped her ego a peg or twenty, while I bent her over the workshop desked and f*cked her stupid, while the monitors buzzed and blurred as she moaned like a whor* in heat, as they switched to softcore p*rn as she was soaked despite herself, as they went hardcore when I spread her legs to f*ck her deeper, all in shadow, all in Gray, all in my world, my pain, my control.

“Yes,” I thought as I touched myself and watched her work, “maybe even Io would get what was coming to her like Kori did.”

***

Synapse

“Um, are you okay?” said a soft voice next to me. Her voice was slightly accented — German maybe? I tried to open my eyes but everything was bright. Too bright. I groaned and shut my eyes tighter, tilting my head away.

“Right, stupid question,” said the stranger. “Obviously you’re not.”

“Mmm,” I said. My mouth was dry. “‘Ater.”

“Right. Right. IVs do no good for a dry throat.” After a moment, a paper cup was pressed against my lips. I parted them and a refreshing cold was over my mouth and eased the soreness in my throat. I dared to open my eyes a second time and was rewarded with less searing pain. In front of me was a tall woman with strawberry blonde hair in a messy bun with wisps floating everywhere. She had soft green eyes and a smattering of freckles, which just proves how tired I was because those stuck out to me before the lab coat, stethoscope, and obvious medical equipment surrounding me and my hospital bed.

“Is this —” No. I was in some kind of warehouse with empty boxes and industrial scaffolding I could see despite the poor lighting. I did the natural super hero thing and tried to sit and strain against whatever bindings the villain had put on me.

But there was nothing.

I shot up and wires popped, monitors squeaked, and my IV slipped out of my veins. “Oh dear,” said the evil scientist, “I wouldn’t —”

But I wasn’t listening to monologues, and I leapt out of bed to get the hell out of —

My knees immediately gave out and I crumpled to the hard concrete floor. There was the sound of laughter but it wasn’t the slightly accented German laughter of my evil scientist.

It was her laughter.

I looked over to the sound of heeled boots clicking on concrete as the true mastermind approached. As the adrenaline hit me, I realized that I have powers and reached out to numb every sense in this woman’s body.

But nothing happened.

According to my powers, there was no woman. Not the one laughing nor the nervous one trying to help me back to my feet. My senses said that I was alone in the building, that I was alone for miles and miles.

But that was impossible.

“You also notice you don’t have knees,” said the woman in boots. She stopped right next to me, and I braced for either a kick to the ribs or a monologue. She squatted down next to me, but I didn’t dare look up at her. My memory was coming back, and I didn’t want to risk staring into her eyes and having my powers go supernova like before.

“Sorry to cut you off, but I so badly want to talk to you.”

sh*t. I hate monologues.

“But in the meantime,” she said as she stood up. “I’ll let you sleep.”

“What?”

“Gretchen, please help her back to her bed. She needs to rest.”

“Wait what?” I said. Gretchen wrapped her arms around me and rose to her feet. Damn, the girl was strong. “Don’t you want to talk?”

“Not to Synapse,” said the woman. As Gretchen helped me up, I saw the bright cobalt blue hair cascading down the stranger’s back as she walked away from me. “Never Synapse.”

***

“Molly?” said a voice from across the house.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. In a rush of panic, I checked the alarm clock to see if I was late for school. I wasn’t. I sighed with relief and sank back into the pillows. “Praise God,” I said and closed my eyes. “More sleep.”

“I think it’s Saturday,” said a voice next to me. It was soft and silky, smooth and seductive. All at once, I became aware of more than a voice. One part of my body felt the weight and heat of a body in bed with me, but then some other part of me was aware of amusem*nt and hunger and passion and … something else. Something dark and sticky and wet.

I sat up again to see a beautiful grown woman with bright blue hair lying in bed next to me. As I sat up, I pulled the covers with me and revealed that the woman was in nothing but … oh Jesus, help me.

I blushed and hopped out of bed, covering my eyes. A surge of more of that … something. I felt it radiating off the woman like the humid Summer heat. But there was more of it. It poured out from me like ripples in a pond. I tried to contain, to hold it in, but wherever our two energies touched, it built to a swell.

“Sweet Jesus,” I whispered and ran to a corner, closed my eyes, and started to pray. How did a woman get in my bed? Who was she? More importantly, what if my parents found out?

“Molly?” said the same voice from across the house. Mom. Shoot.

“One second,” I shouted as my voice broke. “Please.”

“What are you doing in there? It’s time to go to the kitchen and —”

“Overslept,” I said. “I’ll be right there.”

I felt the amusem*nt from the stranger behind me like hot breath on my neck. No. Not like that. Please. Not like that. Like a stray hair on my neck. Yes. That’s better. I had to turn this off. Not just the … something … that was spreading between us and threatening to drown us both, but this whole sensing thing. It had to stop before —

Mom smelling the lavender as she spread it around the house.

Constance brushing her hair, brushing too harshly. She’s hurting herself.

Dad’s allergies from mowing the lawn. He should have let me do it.

Faith’s fingers as she flipped through the page of a book. And something else, like the … something that came from the woman behind me, but tinged with desperation, a clawing kind of hunger spreading down her stomach and over her thighs.

A deep anger from the woman behind me. Deeper than any I’ve felt before, but it was dormant, like a volcano covered for now but waiting to erupt and destroy —

I spun around to face her. She was out of bed but still naked. She moved towards me like a snake, slinking her hips back and forth in one perfect and sinuous line. “Shhh,” she said, but it didn’t sound comforting. It was derisive. She was disappointed. She reached a hand out and cupped my face. “You need to control it.”

“I can’t make it stop,” I whimpered.

“Focus on one thing. Don’t block it all out. Draw your attention to one thing.” She tapped her chest. “Here, focus on this.”

“On your …” I looked at her breasts. They were perfect. I mean, I don’t know a lot about breasts, but the woman looked to be in her late thirties but those breasts looked like a lingerie model in her early twenties. Round and full. They practically floated even without a bra.

“My hearts,” she said. She pointed to the right side of her chest. The wrong side. “Focus on my sympathetic heart.”

“Your what?”

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes, grabbing one of my hands. “I’m not going to help you with this. Relax on your own. Hurry before your mother comes.” She put her hand on her chest, above her right breast. I heard her hearts beating in her chest, both of them. One was where mine was — on the left side — and one was on the other side. I focused on that, feeling it pound softly and confidently against my hands. Then she pulled her hand away, but I could still feel it. It wasn’t like hearing it, it was something else, something more. It was like feeling the pounding of my own heart in my ears, but I knew it wasn’t mine. It was foreign and strong, something deeper and electric. For a moment, it was as though her heart could hear mine, and then my body tingled like a microphone picking up feedback.

“Calm,” she said. “Just my heart. Turn off your own senses. There is nothing else.”

I nodded and tried again.

I listened to her heart, and one by one the other senses dropped out from around me. Dad’s allergies faded away, and I uncrinkled my nose as I no longer felt the urge to sneeze. I no longer felt the tugging of Constance’s hair. Mom’s lavender was replaced with irritation that I was taking so long, but I pushed that away, listening to the sound of this stranger’s second heart. There was the deep burning and heat spreading over Faith’s body, but I pushed that away, trying to focus on nothing but the heart. I ignored the soft skin of the stranger’s body, her amusem*nt which somehow made me feel —

No. Just the heartbeat. I followed the rhythm like counting breaths, like listening to the waves. That was it. She was the ocean, and all I had to do was get caught up in her. I listened to the majesty and glory of God in her, like staring out over the ocean and watching everything reflect goodness and hope. I let the Spirit wash over me, letting everything else sink away. I hummed a little hymn, and then there was nothing but this stranger’s heart and the Presence of God. There was nothing but —

The door opened, and my mother leaned in. I froze, as she looked at me with my hand inches from a naked woman’s body. “You’re still in your pajamas?” Mom sighed. “Hurry up or we’ll miss the lunch rush.” She blew a stray curly brown hair out of her eyes and closed the door behind her.

I flushed with embarrassment, but the stranger in front of me laughed as she stepped away. “She can’t see me,” she said. “Or hear me for that matter.”

“Are you — Is this —”

The woman shrugged. “A dream or a memory, whichever you prefer, Molly.”

The venom in her voice made me take a step back. “But what —”

“What is this kitchen your mother is taking us to?” The stranger turned and went to the side of the bed where a pile of clothes was waiting for her.

“The soup kitchen?”

She paused with her tank top halfway over her head. “You work in a soup kitchen?”

A shuffled nervously. “I volunteer.”

She smirked. “Such a good girl, Molly.” She finished putting on her tank top and then slid on leather pants. I noticed she didn’t put on any underwear but didn’t say anything.

“Why do you keep saying my name like that?”

“Like what, Molly?”

“That?”

“Why are your sister’s named Faith and Constance and you got boring old Molly? Aren’t you a good believer like them?”

“Yes,” I said defensively. I didn’t add that Constance said she didn’t believe any of this anymore and Faith was … well Faith had a boyfriend that Mom and Dad didn’t know about and she definitely wasn’t waiting until marriage.

“Never wondered about that?” She slipped on boots and looked away from me as she talked. “Never wondered about their hair or pale skin color compared to —” She co*cked her head to one side. “Better get dressed. Mommy’s getting angry.”

“Shoot. Right.” I scrambled around for something comfortable and modest for the soup kitchen, something I didn’t mind getting dirty or a little sweaty in, and paused as I unbuttoned my pajamas. The woman was watching me with her angular face and amused eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

I froze. Something was wrong. She shouldn’t be here, and I’ve never seen her before but I recognized her. This was a dream, but I’ve lived it before so it’s more like a memory but it felt like a memory of a dream, loose and hazy.

“Who are you?” I asked.

She smirked and put on her leather jacket. “Until you stop calling yourself Synapse, you get to call me Soma.”

“Synapse?” The name was familiar but felt far away, like a movie I watched when I was a child.

Soma shrugged. “Stole your motif. Humans have some preposterous renaming ceremony when you get an ounce of strength. I’m sad to see it’s a bad habit you’ve picked up.”

“What?”

“I’m starting the car, Molly,” Mom shouted. “Be there in two. Grab a muffin on the way out.”

Soma laughed. “A muffin. How adorable.”

“I have to go,” I said. My fingers were still fidgeting with the buttons on my pajamas, waiting for your Soma to turn around and stop staring through me.

“You’re right. We need more time.” Soma looked up as though praying. “Gretchen, we need thirty minutes back, please.”

***

I rolled over, and Soma was still next to me. She wasn’t under the covers this time, but she was sitting on the bed fully clothed. A rolled back over and checked the time. I still had thirty minutes or so to sleep before I had to get up for the soup kitchen.

“Do you know why we keep coming back to this day?” Soma asked. “This moment?”

I yawned, stretched, and shook my head.

“Because in thirty seconds, this is the first time you demonstrated significant non-human behavior.” She smiled, and it sent shivers down my spine. All at once, it was like being plunged in ice water, the fogginess of waking fled from my body. “This is when you first felt your powers.”

“Powers?”

She shook her head slightly. “It’s a poor term. Is a bird’s flight its power?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t have —”

“Do you wonder why you always know what your mother is feeling? Why you can anticipate her moods and needs even before she walks through the door?”

“I … I just —”

“I bet they say you’re a good listener or considerate. But that’s not it. You pick it up like breathing, but today is something special.”

“I don’t know —”

“Today is the day you stopped receiving and started transmitting.”

“Transmitting what?”

Soma snuggled next to me in the bed in a mockery of two best friends at a sleep-over. “Where’s Faith?” she asked.

“She’s in her room.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“I—”

“Nevermind. Tangential. What’s she doing in her bed?”

“She’s reading a book.” I imagined the paper on Father's fingertips as she flipped the pages, the familiar smell of soft and worn paper as she sat in her dark closet. No. I didn’t imagine it. I felt it. And why was she in her closet?

“Mmm, not a good girl book is it?” Soma asked. Her breath was hot on my neck and sent tingles over my body. I tried to … tried to not feel it.

But it wasn’t me feeling it. It was Faith. The tingles over her neck, down to her breasts, over her stomach, over her thighs.

No. That was me. It was Soma’s fingertips under the covers. When did she get there? Where were my pajamas?

No. I had pajamas. Faith was naked. Why was she naked while she read a book? One hand felt the pressure of the pages under her fingertips and the other hand sank between my legs.

Her legs. Soma’s hand was between her legs, and they were both in the closet while I read my book. It was a story of two women staying at a lake house. They were neighbors. The older woman admired the younger tanning by the water and watched the swell of Faith’s breasts.

My breath was ragged as Soma peeled off my pajamas. The air over my bare skin was more … something than anything I’d felt before.

“Oh come on,” whispered Soma to Faith. “You know the word.”

“Erotic,” Faith said as she turned the page. The two women were in bed, tangled up with their swimsuits peeling off like pajamas as their hands roamed over their bodies.

“This was the first time,” Soma said. “But it won’t be the last.”

I bit my lip and shook my head as my fingers sank between my legs. “It’s wrong,” I said.

Faith kept turning the pages. She was barely reading now, just skimming as she searched for words. “Nipples in her mouth,” “soft flesh of her breast in her hands,” “flower opened at her touch,” “tasted her,” “slid her tongue inside,” “Moaned,” “Sighed.” Faith’s face flushed. My face flushed. I read the words with her. She wanted to stop, to put the book down and touch herself, but I didn’t need anyone to touch me.

Soma was touching me.

“It’s not dirty if she’s the one doing the reading,” Soma whispered. “That’s what you told yourself. You were just around for the ride, enjoying her arousal.”

“No. It’s —”

“But that wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

“Wrong,” I whimpered.

“Wrong,” Faith echoed.

“You have no idea how strong you are,” Soma said. “What you’re about to do to her, what you did more than you’d ever admit, it takes colossal strength to force a hand with brute psychic force.”

“What?”

Faith tried to close the book, but I shouted in my mind. Something thudded on the right side of my chest. Was it Soma’s mouth at my breast? No. That was the two lovers. I wanted to know when they came. I wanted to see the rest of the story, and Faith was going to stop. I wanted to see the older woman break the younger one, to bend her to her knees and take the attractive lover to her bed whenever she wanted.

Faith tried to close the book again, but she couldn’t. I read the pages through her eyes as Soma’s fingers moved faster. Faith squirmed, rubbing her thighs together, begging some unseen goddess for permission to touch herself.

Begging the unseen Synapse.

“Be kind to her,” Soma whispered as she took my nipple out of her mouth. “After all, you’re using her for your shame management.”

I arched my back as Soma’s fingers picked up speed. No. My fingers. Soma was an illusion. They were my fingers between my legs as the … something built.

Arousal. Arousal built in me, and I passed it on to Faith. She read the pages for me, and I touched myself, sending her the same feeling, easing her pressure, teasing her cl*t and my cl*t with the same fingers, bringing us closer and closer to —

The older woman pulled the younger’s hair tight as she forced her face between her legs, suffocating her in puss*. The older woman came and I —

The world went white, and Faith moaned with my org*sm, dropping the book as my pleasure shook her. I kept my mouth shut as Faith’s pleasure became mine and mine became hers, and then I took all of it. All of the pleasure was for me.

Next to me, Soma laughed.

***

Synapse

“Molly?” I said as I opened my eyes. I was back in the hospital bed but still not strapped to it. The warehouse was darker, and Gretchen the nervous scientist was asleep in a chair across from me. “You want to talk to Molly?”

The woman from my dream stepped out of the shadows. She was clothed now, but I couldn’t forget what her body looked like naked: her perfect breasts and the casual lines of her body as though she was cast from steel. I remembered the sound of her second heart pounding in her chest, calming me, making everything soft and safe.

“Not Molly either. You really have no idea who you are, do you, Koritsu?”

Chapter 5: Parietal Lobe

Chapter Text

Synapse

“Koritsu?” The name made something in me tingle. It sounded Japanese, but not the way Soma pronounced it. There was a click in her tongue when she said it, something harsh and wet compared to the gentle and sonorous rolling of Japanese.

“Oh,” Soma said with a shake of her head. “What have they done to you?”

“Who?”

“To imagine sheep not just taming a wolf, but making her think she’s a sheep herself.” Soma paced around me. She was still in her tight black leather jacket and pants, though now her shirt was gone and replaced with a lace bra. I couldn’t look at it without thinking of her body naked in my dream, each curve intense and delightful, each one powerful and overwhelming. I thought of how Faith would look at her with hunger and lust, and I could feel Faith touching herself, her puss* damp with lust as she craved to taste Soma’s skin. Her lust became mine, but I severed the connection, pushing away the dreams.

The memories.

Soma smirked and shook her head again. “Poor thing,” she said. “They broke you.” Her sad smile faded as she snapped her fingers at Gretchen. The nervous assistant with the slight frame and strawberry blonde hair jolted up in her seat as she awoke. “But don’t worry,” Soma said. “We can put you back together.”

The assistant ran to her computer and started typing furiously. Soma paced around, looking at me with hungry eyes. It wasn’t the same eyes as those in my dream — not the burning lust of someone that wanted to f*ck me. There was too much scorn in her eyes, too much derision. I couldn’t maintain eye-contact and instead looked at her hair: cobalt blue and perfectly straight like mine. The sting of recognition gnawed at me. It was like that word she called me — Koritsu — It was all right and totally wrong at the same moment. It was like trying a food you knew you hated and finding it pleasantly delicious after all these years.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Who is asking?” Soma said.

“Me. What are you talking about?”

Soma sighed. “I’ll talk to Molly if I must, but not Synapse. Not whatever nonsense they built you into.”

“They didn’t build me into anything. And who are they?”

Soma ignored me and looked back at Gretchen. “Well?” she asked.

“It seemed to work.” Gretchen bit her lip. “More or less.”

“More or less?” Soma’s lips pursed as she moved behind the monitor to look at what Gretchen saw.

“What worked?” I asked. I sat up on the bed and realized I wasn’t restrained. I sat back down quickly, trying not to draw attention to that fact. If I was careful and waited until they were distracted, I could make a run for it. I could anticipate Soma’s power and maybe block it so she couldn’t lock my knees again.

Soma and Gretchen ignored me as they stared at something on the monitor. Soma pushed Gretchen aside and started typing furiously. I took the first chance I’d been given since my capture to center myself. I took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. I knew how to meditate. I knew prayer. I was trained to go into the most chaotic situations and be an unrelenting tidal wave of calm.

I reached out with my powers, trying to get a sense of Soma and Gretchen, but I wasn’t surprised when I found nothing. I don’t know how she’d done it, but Soma knew how to block my powers. And for whatever reason, she was interested in them. Interested in me. Perhaps she thought she could weaponize them, but if that was the case, the joke was on her. If there was one thing I’d learned through years of hero work, it was that my powers had absolutely no combat applications. Just ask Io if you need a reminder of how useless I am in a fight.

“It seems that was a good first step, Kortisu,” Soma said as she moved away from the monitor. “But I’m throwing a little party in a few days, and I want to make sure the main attraction is ready. We’ll need to move quickly.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

Soma shook her head. “Then I’m talking to Molly.”

“I don’t know what you’re —”

“Don’t waste my time with denial. Molly Warren. That was the name your parents gave you when they adopted you. Jacob and Becca Warren.”

“They …” I shut my mouth, trying not to confirm or deny what she said. It may have been possible to find out who my parents are — though it would be easier to find someone in the Witness Protection Program. But to know they adopted me? Almost no one knows that.

Soma shook her head. “I wouldn’t need to be psionic to know what you’re thinking. You wear it on your face too plainly. You’ve picked up bad habits among the humans. Back home it would never be tolerated to wear your emotions so plainly.” She smirked. “It’s practically p*rnographic.”

I was about to comment on her smirk when she added, “I’ve picked up some bad habits too in my brief time here. It’s like getting to walk naked without shame. I almost like it, though it’s too cold for my liking.”

Once more my eyes roamed up and down her body almost against my will. I didn’t know if she was speaking in metaphor or if she was cold now with so much skin revealed. I looked at the tight lines of her stomach and the impressive swell of her breasts. Were they cold? Were her nipples stiff and —

Soma barked a laugh. It was awful, like a dog choking, and I blushed with shame. Right. Psionic. She knew what I was thinking to some degree.

“And feeling,” she added. “Don’t worry about me weaponizing your powers. You see, you don’t have anything I haven’t got. In fact, you’re severely lacking when you look at what you’re capable of.”

“Then why bother with me? Why are you here at all?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Soma spread her arms wide. “This is a rescue.”

“Rescue from what?”

Soma shook her head. “No spoilers. We can’t rebuild Koritsu until we first tear down Synapse. Then I have to rip Molly from your psyche one moment at a time. Then we can complete the Quinox Sequence and go back to Neoros or rule like queens.” She shrugged. “Personally, I’m hoping you can rule while I go home.” She looked back at Gretchen with a look of disgust. “They’re bodies are delightful, but their minds are overly simple, almost childish.” She shook her head. “I would hate to rule apes.”

I tried to organize all the words she said, but they didn’t have categories. Neoros sounded like a place, but it wasn’t one I knew. Though when she said we would be going back it meant I had to have been there before, but that was impossible. And she talked about humans like she wasn’t one. I know plenty of supers did the same thing. They thought they were a new race, and there was some disgusting supremacist language amongst the worst of them. Is that what this was? She wanted me to rise up with her and oppress the human race?

“f*ck that,” I said.

She turned back to me. “Ooooh, poor thing.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I think we’ll start with a simple first lesson.” She turned to Gretchen. “Bring in our guests.” Gretchen got up immediately and ran into the dark corners of the warehouse. Soma walked towards me, slowly, with careful and even steps. The clicking of her heeled boots reverberated all around us. There were no words, but as she approached, an entire conversation happened in our minds. It was a language I’d never spoken before, but my body knew it deeper than English.

She told me to lay back, and I defied her. She shut down the nerve clusters in my knees and arms, but I flexed my abs and tried to sit up. She thought my defiance was cute. I called her a bitch. In my mind, I snarled and howled, but my strength was a dying flame and she was a tsunami. She smothered me in her power, and my body went limp though she let my mind flail and roar. She sent me the sensation of falling — no, of flying — and then one of heavy sleep, like a long day hiking and arguing with your mother and baking in the heat and moving your best friend’s whole apartment into a van before she moves away. The sensations she sent were acute and accurate, making my power look clumsy and amateurish. And the entire time, I couldn’t sense her. The best I could do was to ward off her attacks, but I couldn’t strike back. It was like fighting a ghost with my bare hands.

She pressed into me, luring me deeper and deeper into sleep. I stood no chance. It wasn’t like she was smothering my mind into unconsciousness. Instead, she was seducing me, luring me. I relived the day Carly left for college and never came back. I relived the post org*smic bliss the first time I came by hitchhiking Faith’s p*rn addiction and leeching her arousal. I was at the end of my first Christian Hero Conference where I stood on a stage in sweltering heat singing Christian worship songs and signing autographs and talking about how I serve humanity because Jesus did. I was at the end of my first night in the Borealis, alone and cold, reaching out to feel my teammates because I was too shy to get to know them any other way, but the shame of violating their privacy kept me up late into the night until sleep was the only way out of the vicious cycle in my mind.

Sleep. Sweet sleep.

***

“Wake up,” Soma whispered in my ear. I smiled and rolled over, letting the sunlight wash over me. My hair tickled my bare skin, and my smile spread at the delightful sensation. Soma pressed herself against my back and kissed my neck, letting her kisses trail down my shoulder and back. She wrapped her arms around me, and when she pulled away the blankets, only the sunlight covered our bare bodies.

“Morning Carly,” I whispered.

“Good morning, love,” Soma said. Her hand went to my stomach, and I put my hands on top of her. “It could be a better morning,” she said with a laugh.

I let myself feel her laugh deep in her stomach and stole it for myself. “Better than last night?” I asked.

“Mmm, if you free my hands,” she said. She bit my shoulder playfully, and when I gasped, her hands went between my legs. I didn’t stop her, and she didn’t stop. Over and over, she didn’t stop.

***

“Sweet dream,” Soma said in the darkness. I was back in my body, and the sunlight was gone. I was naked and strapped to the hospital bed, but I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t stand the condescending I assumed was on Soma’s face.

“But it wasn’t yours,” she said.

I kept my eyes shut, though that would never keep me safe from her. “It was Carly’s dream,” she said. “One you just happened to pick up on? Or were you snooping?”

I said nothing, but my cheeks burned crimson and the heat spread down my body.

“Shame or lust?” Soma said with a click of her tongue. “A little bit of both.”

I strained at the straps across my chest and thighs, but I couldn’t make them budge. I thought of all the talks I had with my parents about my abilities, about making sure to respect people’s privacy. As a teenager, I didn’t see the harm in hopping into people’s nervous systems. I thought I could get to know the real person behind the calculating glances and carefully chosen words.

“And then you found the real Carly,” Soma said. “Not so different from the real Faith.”

“Please, stop,” I said. Now I knew what my parents spoke of. This probing, this knowing, was so violating. One should always be safe in his or her mind, and yet here was Soma, stripping me away and revealing the pathetic and dirty thing I was at my core. The girl that wouldn’t watch or read p*rn but didn’t mind if she spent time in her sister’s body while she did. The girl that knew her best friend was in love with her and fed off that admiration and lust —

“Even came to that fantasy more than once,” Soma said.

But never acted on it. Closed that door. Faith was dirty. Carly was dirty.

“And you liked it,” Soma said. “What does that make you?”

There was a jolt in my nervous system, and my eyes went wide open. Soma was inches from my face, her expression one of unrelenting fury. “What is someone that is lower than dirty?” she hissed.

Then, without hesitation, she licked my face, running her tongue from my chin to my forehead. My body erupted in a thousand sensations like Soma dropped a bag of marbles in my mind and each feeling ran amok on the floor. Shame. Hunger. Pain. Lust. Fear. Desire. Ache. Burn. Disgust. Passion. Wet. Moist. Damp. Soaked. Soaked. Soaked.

Then they coalesced into a one burning emotion: Need. My body was redhot with it. The memory of betraying Carly was burned up in the eternal need of my body. Was it Soma or was it me? It was impossible to tell. I couldn’t trust my body or my mind. It was all a toy in her hand. I was helpless.

Soma scoffed and stepped away from me. “You know our people are omnisexual,” she said. “We f*ck anything that moves.”

My body shivered, but I kept my eyes shut, trying to calm myself, trying to center myself and turn it all off. I was still a prisoner. I was in a warehouse, naked, strapped to a bed. This wasn’t therapy, and it wasn’t sex. It was a kidnapping. It was danger.

“Your body would have happily f*cked Faith or Carly. It’s not like Faith is your sister.” Soma sent me the sensation of her smiling, overruling my shut eyes. It was beautiful and dirty and cruel cruel cruel. “But we have no taboos about siblings. We have no taboos at all. I will say if you ever wonder why I’ve chosen these methods it’s because humans are one of the only species I’ve encountered with taboos at all. It fascinates me. Perhaps I’ll write a dissertation on them when I return home.”

Somewhere deep in the warehouse, doors opened. The sound rumbled through the open space and seemed to ripple over my naked body, my bare chest.

“But first I have to rip it away from you. Of course, I’ll play with it for a while. It’s fascinating to see one of us so fragile and broken, and yet that very brokenness creates a level of arousal unprecedented. Trust me, I’ve traveled many galaxies and conquered dozens of worlds. No one gets turned on like a human.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I was telling the truth. It was like there was a closet in the bedroom of my mind that I tried to ignore, but I could always see it in the corner of my vision. She was talking about all the things stored in that closet.

“Time to open the closet,” Soma said. She turned to approaching footsteps. Multiple people. People I couldn’t sense.

“How are you blocking them?”

Soma looked back to me and smiled sadly. “You know.”

“Please, tell me what’s happening.”

She leaned close to me, letting her blue hair tickle my face. “I’m opening the door, Koritsu.” Once more, she bent down and licked her tongue along my face. It was wet and awful, and I moaned and broke, and my nipples stiffened while I recoiled and I hated her, hated my body, hated what she knew about my body that I didn’t, hated this whole thing.

But only because I wanted answers.

I wasn’t afraid of her hurting me. I wasn’t afraid Aurora Flight would never come and rescue me. I wasn’t afraid of anything except not getting the answers I needed. She understood who I was — what I was. She knew what was on the other side of the door in my mind. She held the key to it. I couldn’t lie to her, and I found I didn’t want to. She could peel away my faith and religion, my self-righteousness and my martyr complex. She could see the self-ish, scared, and dirty girl at the bottom of all that, the thing I tried to control and lock away, the thing in the closet.

And she wanted it to come out and play.

Soma walked away from me and started speaking to people I couldn’t see in hushed whispers. But I wasn’t left alone strapped to the bed. Gretchen came into view, looking nervous and frail. She tucked hair behind her ear and smiled warmly at me.

“You get used to her,” she said.

“I hope not.”

“Yeah.” She looked back at her boss and sighed. I didn’t need to be an empath to see that she was in love with my sociopath captor. “I guess not.”

“Is she controlling you?”

Gretchen looked back at me as I stirred her from whatever fantasy held her. “No.” She cleared her throat and shook her head. “Not necessarily.”

“In a manner of speaking?”

“In a manner of speaking, we’re all being controlled.” She pulled over a tray and got to work preparing some kind of injection. “Why does anyone do anything? For money? For approval? For a jolt of dopamine? A shot of serotonin?” She paused her work and looked up at me. “If you help an old lady cross the street, did you do it because it was the right thing to do or because it made you feel good?”

“Why not both?”

Gretchen smiled at me. “If it’s both then it’s the ladder. It’s just nice that doing the right thing feels good. Would you do it if it was the right thing but felt awful?”

“You know how often saving people feels awful?”

“I used to be a doctor,” she said with a shrug. She broke eye contact and went back to work. She swabbed some numbing agent and rubbed it on my arm. Her face was focused on her work, and I could tell there was something else happening behind her eyes — something painful and complex — but I had no idea what it was. I had come to rely on my powers too much.

“What are you doing?”

“Soma wants this drug in your system.”

“What does it —”

“You know I’m not going to answer that.”

“Please.” I tried to make my voice sound pathetic. A week ago, I could have made any voice sound pathetic and break a person’s heart. I could make a billionaire begging for spare change move you to empty your pockets.

Not that I’d ever use my powers that way.

Gretchen looked up at me and smiled again. It was warmer than Soma’s, but it had the same sadness, as though she was looking at some pitiful orphan. “Soma is going to help you. She opened my eyes, and she’s going to open yours.”

“I don’t want to see things the way she does.”

“You already do. We all do. She just says it out loud.”

I sighed. “Typical villain philosophy. Next you’ll tell me she's actually a savior.”

Gretchen shook her head. “She’s a conqueror. I know there will be casualties. She helps me look at the cost with bravery.”

“So she is controlling you, right. Got it. Brainwashing.”

Gretchen shook her head. Her hair swished back and forth in little waves crowning her head. “She was going to leave me, and I begged her to let me help. I sold myself to her, told her I could be of use.”

“Brainwashing and cult go hand in hand.”

“Say’s the girl going to political rallies for Jesus.”

I strained against the straps holding me down. “f*ck you.”

“That’s Corinthians, right?” she said. “Or is it Ephesians?” She shook her head sadly. “This won’t hurt.” Without another warning, she stuck the syringe in my arm and pushed the drug into my system. I braced myself for another black out or the tingling of a truth serum — not that Soma would need it.

“I’m going to save you,” I said. “I’m going to save all of us.”

“Not if I save you first,” Soma said as she stepped into view. “Of course, I could kill you.” She shrugged. “It seems like a waste, but I’ve got a few more weeks before my weapons arrive. I’d rather spend them figuring out what broke you than making millions of human dollars before I burn all their economies.”

“What did she do to me?” I said with a nod to Gretchen. “What was in that drug?”

Soma waved a hand to wash away my question. With a flick of her wrist, she beckoned to someone I couldn’t see. “Please give our guest a better view, Gretchen.” Footsteps surrounded me as Gretchen stepped away back to her computer. She flipped some switches, and my hospital bed started to stand up, giving me a better view of the entire warehouse while I was strapped to it.

The warehouse was cast in shadow, but in front of me was a four-poster bed. Chains were wrapped around each poster, and I noticed an entire sex-shop’s worth of sex toys and a BDSM convention’s stock of devices for pleasure and pain.

“You’re going to f*ck me?” I asked.

Soma ignored me. She beckoned behind me and two women came into view. One woman looked Thai with long silky black hair in a tight ponytail. She was naked except for impressive emerald slippers with a stiletto heel she could rob a bank with. The rest of her body was smooth and hairless, marked only with the tight lines of her impressive muscle.

“This is Lin,” Soma said, gesturing to her. Lin smiled at me and went to the BDSM toys lined out for her. After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed a riding crop and gave it a few practice swings. She looked like she knew exactly what she was doing with it.

“And this is Maggie.” Soma gestured to a tall blonde woman — well over six feet tall — with impressive curves. She reminded me of Bastille, but I couldn’t imagine my French teammate wearing the bright pink straps all over her body that adorned Maggie. They were leather with huge rings leaving her nipples and puss* bare, but covering almost every other inch in a criss-crossed cage pattern of thick pink leather.

“Gretchen,” Soma said, and the assistant took off her white coat and stepped away from the computer. She went to the bed along with Maggie and helped strap the blonde to the bed using the chains.

“Can you sense them?” Soma asked.

I shook my head. Maggie and Lin were both blank pages, just like Gretchen and Soma. I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry. I didn’t keep my eyes off Lin as she paced around the bed, looking at Maggie hungrily. From time to time she cast glances at Gretchen, and I didn’t have to read her emotions to know she was imagining the mousy scientist strapped to the bed. Lin gave off the same energy as Soma, but we all knew who was in charge here.

“Are they going to —” I couldn’t say the word. I was still in Carly’s dream, still hiding in my bed while Faith touched herself. I was detached from all of it, but one word rang through my ear from Soma.

Omnisexual.

“That’s not the real question,” Soma said. She was behind me. I don’t know when she moved away. “What’s the real question?” Her hot breath on my ear — on my neck — sent shivers down my neck, my bare skin, my exposed breasts.

“Are you controlling them?” I asked. I had to know. Not just Maggie and Lin, but Gretchen and Hauzer. Io and the rest of my team. Could Soma control them? Could she reach out and make them play out her little play like puppets?

“You think it would be wrong if I did,” Soma said. “But that’s what we’re going to fix today. It doesn’t matter. Do you know why?”

I didn’t answer. It didn’t matter what she said now. All I cared about was that she didn’t deny it. She could be controlling them, and if her powers were the same as mine, then that meant I could control people too.

Soma’s hand reached around and her fingertips ran over my collarbone. “It doesn’t matter because I want it, and I take what I want.” Her fingers trailed down and teased my nipple, I arched my back as best I could while restrained and moaned. “Soon you will too.” I closed my eyes tight, waiting to wake up. Soma was in another dream. She was playing with me.

“We’re ready,” Gretchen said. I opened my eyes. Gretchen was standing to the side now that Maggie was chained to the bed. Lin traced the tip of her riding crop over the tiny peaks of Maggie’s bare skin. The Thai woman looked hungry, and I felt like I was back in Faith’s body as she read p*rn, like I was in Carley’s dream as she fantasized about me.

The hunger burned in me too.

“The serum in your system is going to lower your control,” Soma said. “I’m going to take down wards I’ve placed on their minds while they play with each other. I’d love to see how long you resist treating them like Faith and Carley, but don’t worry, it will happen. I have plenty of the drug, and I will break and rebuild you if it saves time.”

“I …” I strained against the straps. I felt twelve again, hiding in the closet while Faith’s lust infected me. I prayed and cried and tried to push it down, but in the end it always won. Just like Kori. I couldn’t resist for long, and if I had to —

Lin brought the crop down against Maggie’s thigh. It wasn’t a tease or a test. It was hard and swift, relentless and designed to hurt. The large blonde woman cried out in pain, and I cried out with her as the pain rippled up and down my thigh. I felt the crop and the sting, I felt Maggie’s arousal as she was helpless, I felt Lin’s hunger as Maggie’s cries stoked the flame of Lin’s lust, I felt the fear and fascination budding in Gretchen, her desire to strip and join them. I felt them all, running over my skin, between my legs, deep in my brain.

Dear God, I felt everything.

Chapter 6: Nociception

Chapter Text

Synapse

Soma’s laughter anchored me.

It was the one thing I knew I was hearing.

The thing I was hearing.

Everything else was an ocean of sensations. I heard Maggie’s moans but from Gretchen’s ears. I felt the leather crop in Lin’s hand. I felt the pain blossoming over Maggie’s skin. I felt Gretchen’s burning curiosity. I felt the sweat rolling down Maggie’s neck. I felt the dampness between Lin’s legs. I felt the lust pulsing between all three of them. It was the air they breathed, more ubiquitous than the staccato slamming of their hearts against their chests. But the layers were overwhelming. Maggie cried out in pain and delight, but I heard it in Lin’s ears, in Gretchen’s ears, in Maggie’s ears, in my ears. It wasn’t happening all at once, but each sensation was staggered like an echo, interrupted by the next sense. There was too much input, too much noise.

But Soma’s laughter was in my ear, just for me. I held onto it as well as one holds onto a single drop of water in the ocean, but I had to try to keep a sense of myself. I had to know where I was in all these sensations. Otherwise I would drown and lose myself. If I didn’t keep my control, I’d no longer be Synapse or Molly or whatever the hell Soma thought I was. I’d be lost in Maggie’s body or Lin’s hunger or Gretchen’s aching lust.

Gretchen wanted to play. All work and no play makes Gretchen a dull girl. That’s what Harold, her former fiance used to say to her. He meant it was a joke until it was a dagger twisting in her back. He wanted a hardworking and brilliant woman but then she stayed late at the clinic. She was too tired to go out on dates or f*ck him. She was a dull girl. All work and no play. No play. No play.

Play.

Gretchen reached between her legs and let the clipboard in her hands clatter to the floor. She was supposed to monitor the patient and make sure there was a steady stream of the drug to her system. Whatever species Soma and Synapse belonged to had a quick metabolism. The drug needed to be injected constantly to keep Synapse’s control suppressed.

All work and no play.

Gretchen let her white coat split while she fumbled with her sweaty fingers, trying to get them under her skirt. She wondered if Soma wanted that. That wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. The thought turned her on, just like everything the beautiful creature did. Gretchen remembered the first time she saw Soma at the clinic and her bright blue hair. She had just landed on the planet and didn’t have anything resembling clothing. Apparently her species simply didn’t believe in it. But she was burned and bleeding from scraping the asphalt as she climbed out of her ship. She found a clinic to take care of her injuries, hopping into minds to guide her to Gretchen’s formerly glorious life.

All work and no play.

Gretchen should have been terrified when she saw Soma play with the other doctors and nurses at the clinic. One woman was trying to eat out three women at once, all of them feeling in their tit* all the sensations building in their puss*es. Soma could redirect sensory inputs and make your finger as erotic as your cl*t, which was a wild experience when you touched yourself.

Play.

Gretchen should have been calling the police or crying for help, but instead she was sitting behind the counter, watching the orgy between some of the smartest people she ever met, now all sniveling whor*s. She should have felt anything but the burning lust. She should have been doing anything but touching herself furiously. She should have thought anything except for envy at the poor doctor servicing as many women as her tongue could touch.

All work and play.

That was how Soma found her. She was drawn to Gretchen’s perverted fantasies and lust like a moth to the flame. Soma said they were kindred spirits. She didn’t have to dig deep to find a treasure trove of p*rn in Gretchen’s memory. When Harold left her, her sex drive was given a second life. Now that he was gone, she wanted to f*ck all the time, but she was too tired to go anywhere or do anything about it. The internet romanced her. Her fingers were her lovers. She would spend every minute away from the clinic f*cking herself stupid, watching more taboo p*rn, pushing the boundaries of lust.

All play.

Maggie’s choked cries stirred Gretchen out of her memories. Lin wore a thick and bulbous strap-on. It looked like something out of hentai, and Gretchen licked her lips as Maggie made it slick with her spit. The sub choked on the strap-on as Lin f*cked her throat, tilting the smaller girl’s head back as she slid the co*ck in and out. Maggie’s slobbery gargles filled the room, and Gretchen couldn’t take it anymore. Her fingers slipped between the folds of her puss*, and she moaned with relief. Sweet god, she was so f*cking wet.

All play.

Gretchen looked back at Soma. The blue-haired goddess was behind Synapse, whispering in the younger woman’s ear. But Soma’s eyes were latched on to Gretchen. She smirked in amusem*nt as she watched Gretchen pump at her soaked puss*. Soma’s eyes cut into Gretchen, making her weak. Her knees wobbled, and the doctor fell to the floor, keeping her fingers in her c*nt the whole time. She didn’t look away from Soma, letting the alien’s cold eyes cut through her.

All work and no play makes Synapse a dull girl.

Gretchen tilted her throat back and moaned. The sound echoed through four different pairs of ears. I heard them all.

All work makes Synapse a dull girl.

Soma’s stare cut through Gretchen’s mind like it was a telescope, focusing her gaze on her true target.

No play makes Synapse a dull girl.

The eyes glinted with their strange violet light. There was such malice in its amusem*nt, such lust in its hatred, such power in its desire.

Play makes Synapse.

She was staring through Gretchen, straight into me. Into my mind.

Play Synapse.

Soma could have reached out and cupped my breasts. She could have sucked on my ears, bit my throat, licked the straight and tense lines of my neck. But she didn’t need to. Gretchen’s breasts were my breasts. Gretchen’s eyes were my eyes. Gretchen’s puss* was my puss*.

Play.

Not just Gretchen’s body. Soma was whipping me as Lin whipped Maggie. Even while her huge strap-on f*cked Maggie’s throat — f*cked my throat — she was whipping her sub. She was whipping me. Maggie/Synapse’s nipples were hard as we cried out to be whipped. Gretchen/Synapse’s puss* was soaked as Lin f*cked our throats, as she whipped us, as we strained against their bonds, as we begged to be free so we could touch themselves, so Gretchen could touch them, so Gretchen could touch herself, so Gretchen could touch me. We were all one body because we were one mind. We were my mind, and I used them to masturbat* as I did with Carly and Faith. We were all my puss*es and fingers and tit* and skin and pain and pleasure.

We were all me.

At that moment, I finally understood what it meant to be a goddess. Not to control, but to breathe and move through all beings. To be the force behind all lives, knowing the entire spectrum of human experience in one breath. I was the room, but if I expanded my powers, could I be the entire block outside of this building? Could I be the entire city? The entire planet? Could I inhabit each org*sm of the human species all at once, being f*cked and f*cking at all times of the day?

Soma’s laughter anchored me.

“Would you like this world?” she whispered in my ear. “It isn’t much.”

The words brought me back to myself. Self. Singular. One mind amidst a row of minds is worlds apart from being a drop in an ocean. I could construct borders around myself. I could —

Soma extended a curled finger, and Gretchen stumbled to her feet. She was still fingering herself — fingering me — as she stumbled to the table I was strapped to.

“Keep her dosed,” Soma ordered, and the poor doctor nodded. She raised one trembling hand — the other was busy f*cking herself — to keep my veins filled with the drug. I moaned as I felt my control slipping.

“Much better,” Soma said. She stepped away from me and walked around the hospital bed, slinking behind Gretchen. “It’s much better this way, anyways.”

“Please,” I begged. “Please —”

“What?” Soma asked with a co*cked eyebrow. “Stop? Is that what you want?”

I froze. I didn’t know. It was wrong. I knew it was all wrong. This was worse than the p*rn I shamed Faith for reading or watching. These were real people that I was using as flesh puppets so I could org*sm. Even if I didn’t want to — even if I did everything in my power to resist it — I was using them for my sexual gratification. That made me absolutely disgusting. There was no other way to put it.

“Except for goddess,” Soma said. “Isn’t that right?”

“What?”

“That was your word. Not mine.” Soma peeled off Gretchen’s coat, and I felt the cool air on my sweaty skin as the jacket fell from our shoulders. “To be connected to all of them. To be every human on the planet at once. To be the cumulative human experience in one mind. What else is that if not a goddess?”

I closed my eyes, but it didn’t matter. I could see myself on the table through Gretchen’s eyes. I could see Soma slowly unbuttoning Gretchen’s shirt from Maggie and Lin’s eyes. I could feel the strap-on pressing against Maggie’s cl*t as Lin teased her, threatening to split her in half with the bulbous dild*. Threatening to split me in half. Lin wanted it. I wanted it for Lin. I couldn’t tell where I started and she stopped.

This wasn’t being a goddess. This was sleep paralysis and night terrors. This was being a Peeping Tom and a pervert. This was a dozen things, but nothing about this was powerful. Nothing about this was glorious.

“Not yet,” said Soma as Gretchen’s blouse fell to the floor and the cool air rushed over our tight stomach. “But I’m going to change all that for you.”

“Please don’t.” I heard my voice in four different heads. It was whiny and pathetic, but Lin knew the sound of someone who said ‘no’ and meant ‘please.’ She knew a submissive afraid to beg for the humiliation she so deeply craved. If I wasn’t fooling Lin, then I couldn’t fool myself. I definitely couldn’t fool Soma.

“You have so much to learn.” Soma unclasped Gretchen’s bra. We both sighed with relief. “For one, you must disabuse yourself of the notion that they are our equals. Even the so-called supers of this world are still nothing but apes in their minds. You wouldn’t think twice about eating a steak would you?”

Soma peeled away Gretchen’s bra, but before we could sigh again, her hands were around Gretchen’s tit*. I felt the pressure on my own breasts. Gretchen and I held our breath as Soma squeezed tightly. “Moo for me, little steak,” Soma said.

I didn’t know which one of us she was talking to. My mouth formed the soft ‘M’ sound, but then Gretchen mooed loud and deep, the words vibrating through her chest — our chest — and I blushed with embarrassment. That mingled with Lin’s amusem*nt at the scene and Maggie’s arousal. All at once, Lin pulled her dild* out of Maggie’s puss*. The sub and I both gasped with disappointment and cried out as the crop slapped against our tit* — her tit*. Lin’s hands were around Maggie’s tit* in a moment, and I felt the heat of her breath on our throats as she commanded Maggie to moo too.

Then two of us were mooing while three of us had our tit* played with. I was tempted to join them, to sink deep into the ocean of their sensations. To lose all sense of myself and become them. I could be a goddess but I could also be nothing. I could be the wind in their lungs, the lightning in their brains, and finally float away into oblivion.

But Soma has other plans.

“Our people don’t kneel,” Soma said. She pinched Gretchen’s nipple and twisted hard. The pain was bright in my body, but Gretchen’s masochism infected me. Soon we were both moaning as Soma tortured our nipples, bringing Gretchen to her knees. I felt the hard floor and the scrape she ignored as lust pushed out every other sensation. I didn’t have the pleasure of being nothing but lust. I was the pain in her knees and the shame and humiliation and arousal and sharp pinching on the nipple.

“Hurt her,” Soma said to someone. Lin, I assumed. The dominatrix was then furious with the crop, slapping each fleshy and soft part of Maggie’s body. Maggie cried out in heavenly pain, and I joined her. I writhed against the straps on the hospital bed as my both dommes abused our bodies. The pain didn’t bother me as much as the relentless arousal from both submissives. I felt the tightness around my throat as Soma dragged Gretchen to the table where Maggie was being delightfully abused. The poor girl was crying out for more, moaning and thrusting against her restraints as the pain and pleasure mingled in our bodies. I didn’t know what Soma was doing. I didn’t know anything but pain and delight. There were the sharp red lines of the crop. The bright white pain of Gretchen’s nipples pulled tight and twisted. But beneath that all was the fuzzy crimson and pink pleasure blossoming in our bodies. We were drunk on it. For those cruel and blissful moments, we weren’t women anymore. We were bodies. We were a series of sensations and neurons. We were delight and the hunger for more delight. We were alive in the purest sense as all consciousness faded away. There was no higher order thinking, there was just the sensation and keeping it going, keeping the thoughts at bay, destroying any sense of identity as we become what we were always meant to be.

Animals.

“That’s right,” Soma said. “Animals. Each one of them. And they’ve infected you, making you think you are the same as them. You are so much more.”

Gretchen was still on her knees in front of the table Maggie was strapped to. In one swift motion, Soma shoved Gretchen’s face between Maggie’s legs and the scientist went to work licking Maggie’s soaked puss*. For a moment, I dared to think that this would be a reprieve from the masochism and sadism of these women. But while Maggie was serviced, her body was still slapped by the crop. Lin added nipple clamps and rode Maggie’s face, holding onto the clamps like the reins of a horse, slapping Maggie’s bare skin like she wanted her submissive to reach a full gallop. My mouth was flooded with the taste of two puss*es as Gretchen and Maggie went to work while I felt my puss* and cl*t worshiped by two eager cl*ts. Soma didn’t hesitate to keep hurting Gretchen, and the pain was so bright in her body that I lost the ability to differentiate between pain and pleasure. The slap of the crop against my skin was the same as the tongue against my cl*t. The twisting of my nipples was the same as the puss* juice running down the chin. They were all equal. They were just synapses firing. Just synapses.

Just Synapse.

“Would you like to know the true bitch of our abilities?” Soma asked. She had found another strap-on and was preparing to f*ck Gretchen’s ass — my ass — while the good doctor kept licking Maggie’s delicious puss*. “It isn’t real for us.”

I opened my eyes and took in the scene for the first time from my perspective. Before this, it had all been in my head. I’ve had their eyes and sense to carry me through, but now I saw Lin riding Maggie’s face. Gretchen was standing up so Soma could f*ck her ass while she was bent over, her face deep in Maggie’s c*nt. Maggie was nothing but red marks and nipple clamps, buried beneath the other two women. Lin was sweating and glorious. She had ripped away most of her clothes, and she looked like she’s having the time of her life. Soma had a huge black dild* hanging between her legs as she prepared herself behind Gretchen and lubed it up graciously, stroking the huge co*ck while staring at me.

“It feels …” I gasped as Gretchen lightly nibbled Maggie’s puss* — my puss*. “Real to me.”

“It’s a safety measure,” Soma said. Her voice was casual — almost gentle — as she looked at me and stroked that huge co*ck. “In case our plaything dies or gets burned. We’d hate to be burned ourselves.”

“Then …” I closed my eyes. It was all too much.

“How do we cum?” Soma asked. Through Lin’s eyes, I saw the amusem*nt on my tormentor’s face. “The old fashioned way.”

“Oh god,” I said, as her point clicked for me. Soon Maggie and Gretchen and Lin were going to cum. I felt the tidal swell in their puss*es as they approached org*smic and cosmic bliss. I was going to feel that org*sm too. I would ride the wave with them, and I may even feel the relief in their bodies.

But my body wasn’t going to get any relief.

Even now, my juices were running down my leg. God, I’d never been so wet in my life. I didn’t even think it was possible to be this wet. Juices running down one's leg felt like something out of fantasy. But now my body felt as though it was being pleasured and tortured in every sense of the word. It wanted to cum. It wanted relief. But I couldn’t reach my puss*. I couldn’t rub my thighs together. I couldn’t do anything. I was trapped in their bodies as much as I was trapped on this table.

“Please,” I whined. “Please don’t leave me like this.” I didn’t know what would happen if I didn’t cum. That wasn’t something I could fathom at this point. Every cell in my body was aching to cum like it was its goddamned purpose. Like the trajectory of my purpose in life was this org*sm. Not just any org*sm. This org*sm. Imagining a life where I didn’t get to cum soon was like trying to imagine death. Death. Yes. That’s what would happen if I didn’t cum. Or even if I did cum. Yes. If I came, I could die. There would be nothing left in life for me. It could never get any better. There would be nothing left. This org*sm — this pleasure — was the sum of all of my existence. This was why I was here. This is why I was a super, why my parents raised me, why I did anything. I did it all for this org*sm. This one right now and nothing else would do.

“Oh but it does get better,” Soma said. “Much much better. Let me show you.”

Then she shoved herself inside of Gretchen. The scientist moaned, lifting her head out of Maggie’s puss*, but Soma was quick to shove her head back down and keep her working. At first it was pressure — unbelievable pressure. But Gretchen spread our legs, and Soma added more lube as she thrust. We were so open, so eager to be filled, that in no time at all, everything slipped into pleasure. Nothing like the pleasure of being f*cked by a man — though I only knew by hijacking Kori’s pleasure from time to time. This was deeper and tighter. It was like being split in two, like finding new space inside the body, a new room of pleasure I had never experienced before.

Humans could feel this too?

Soma laughed, and it anchored me back to myself. “There is so much they can feel, especially when you start rewriting them.”

I tried to respond, tried to process those words, but it was too much. Maggie was about to cum. She was begging for it, but Lin was refusing to let her. Gretchen was licking Maggie’s thighs as the poor submissive was denied the org*sm.

As I was denied my org*sm.

Soon, there were no words in the room. Everyone was hot and sweating, grunting and moaning. There was no more “yes,” “please,” or “more.” There wasn’t even an “oh god” or a “f*ck.” It was just the thick breath of five women — three women and two other beings — as they f*cked. We were close. We were all so close. But soon they were going to get their relief. Even Maggie was going to get to cum. I could feel it in Lin. She wanted to let her submissive cum. But I wasn’t going to get to. I was going to get nothing. No release. No ocean rising in my body. No storm burning through my blood. I was going to be all potential until I collapsed in on myself. I was going to pop. I swear to God I was going to pop.

Then Lin came.

I think I blacked out from the pleasure. I know the world went white. I lost myself. It felt like floating in space, as though I could reach out and grab a star. And being the pervert I was, I only wanted to shove those stars between my legs. I wanted their heat. I wanted their pulsing energy washing over me. That was what Lin had. It was cosmic and interstellar. She was on a higher plane of being as her thighs quivered and rippled with pleasure. She stumbled off the table, freeing Maggie’s face.

“f*ck her,” Lin said breathlessly. “Let her cum.”

Gretchen went back to work with her tongue. Gretchen’s head bobbed effortlessly as she licked Maggie’s cl*t. With each thrust of Soma against Gretchen’s ass, Maggie felt the thrust of Gretchen’s chin over her cl*t. Soma was f*cking both of them.

She was f*cking all of us.

My body was on fire. The pain that became pleasure had become pain again. But it wasn’t the stinging brightness of a slap or a twisted nipple. It was the deep burn of something caustic eating away at my flesh from the inside. It was disease and death. I had felt nothing like it, and I didn’t want to feel it again. There was something ungodly inside of me, and it couldn’t be released. It was trapped in cells and synapses, in skin and neurons, in pain and pain and pain.

I felt that same burning in Maggie, but when she came, it erupted out of her. She squirted slightly onto Gretchen’s face and thrashed against her restraints. She was stronger now, pulling harder on what bound her than when Lin tortured her. It was as though she had a volcano between her legs, and all the primal burning was released. It was relief and terror all at once. It was the first step over the cliff into free fall. It was death and the unshakable knowledge of life.

But my body wasn’t free from the burning. It was worse. As though my insides were dipped in acid and put back into my body. I couldn’t do this. I was going to die. When Gretchen came, I was going to pop. My mind would shut down and go into shock. The trauma of it would send me into a coma. This was it. Soma was going to kill me. This is how I would die: without cumming.

“Please,” I begged. “Please please please.” I don’t know what I was begging for. To cum? Yes. To not cum? Absolutely. To make it stop and to make it happen. To keep going and to free me. To teach me and to kill me. All of it. Something. Anything.

“She’s going to cum soon,” Soma said as she kept thrusting inside of Gretchen. “I can make it happen whenever I want.”

“Please. I’m going to …” I let out a moan. I was covered in sweat. My body was burning up and shutting down. It didn’t know what was happening. “I’m going to pop.”

“You want to cum, Koritsu?”

“God, please. Yes.”

“Should I send one of my playthings to go lick your puss*?” She chuckled. “You know how good Maggie is at it.”

“Yes. Please. Anything.” I didn’t know what I was saying or agreeing to. Everything had been in my mind my whole life. Even hijacking Kori or Faith. Even tasting Carly’s fantasies. Making my own fantasies of all three of them. All of it was in my head. I’d touched myself before, but no one else had — I was —

“Saving yourself for God?” Soma asked. Her voice was dark and husky. It was thick like sex and sweat and heat and the body and the burning. Oh goddess, the burning. “Now you’ve met one,” Soma said. “Save yourself no longer.”

I tried to arch my back, but I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. It was so hot in here. On my skin. In my body. Everywhere.

“I could release your arms,” Soma said. She slowed her f*cking, but her voice was still sinister. It was a thing from my nightmares and wettest dreams. “But you won’t leave will you? You’ll stay here and pump pathetically at your puss* for that relief, won’t you?”

“Yes. Please.” I don’t know who I was anymore. Molly. Synapse. Koritsu. It was all a dream. I was no one. I was nothing but a body. An animal.

“Maybe,” Soma said, amused. “But they aren’t even animals, are they?”

“Please,” Gretchen said. Or I said. I don’t know. We were both f*cked. Both being f*cked. Both exploding with pleasure. Both dying with each thrust.

“When you admit that they are nothing but dild*s, nothing but fleshlights and tongues and p*rn for our devouring, then you may cum.”

“I’m nothing but a dild*!” Gretchen shouted. “I’m just a hole for f*cking! Just a fleshlight.”

I felt the words on her tongue, but my mouth couldn’t make the shapes. They were people. I spent my life trying to save them. No one knew better than I how human they were. Each mind was its own universe.

“A universe you can reprogram,” Soma said. Her breath was hot in Gretchen’s ear — my ear. “What does that make you?”

“A … a …”

“Goddess,” Gretchen said for me. “You’re a f*cking goddess, Synapse.”

“Koritsu,” Soma corrected. She grabbed Gretchen’s hair and pulled back. I felt the tug on my scalp. Gretchen arched her back, and Soma thrust harder into her, riding her horse, her fleshlight.

“You’re a goddess, Koritsu,” Soma said. Her voice was like a velvet collar around my throat, like a crop teasing between my breasts, like a star buzzing between my legs. “And they’re nothing but your toys. Admit it, and I’ll let you touch yourself. Admit it, and I’ll teach you how to play with them.”

My fingers strained for my puss*, but couldn’t get any closer. I’d never do it myself. I was still in the closet, still hijacking Faith, still hiding in my room and hijacking Kori. I was nothing.

“Not nothing,” Soma said. “A goddess. You’ve just been sleeping.” She picked up her pace, bringing Gretchen to the edge. But Gretchen would never cum without Soma’s permission. The creature could numb Gretchen or sense right when Gretchen was on the precipice before slowing down.

“Time to wake up, Koritsu.”

“Please,” I said. I didn’t know what I was begging for. I knew if she let Gretchen cum, I’d die. I knew if she didn’t let Gretchen cum, I’d expire.

“You won’t leave. You want to cum too badly,” she said.

“Yes.” I couldn’t fathom leaving. Everything I wanted was right here, right now. It was between my legs.

“You’ll be a good apprentice, won’t you.”
“Yes.” I don’t know what I was agreeing to. All I knew was that I wanted this. If I said what she wanted, I got this. Then I could die. Then she could kill me. My glorious purpose would have been met.

“Then cum, Koritsu.”

Maggie and Lin were at my side in a moment. They freed my hands, and maybe another superhero would have punched them, freed her legs, and run for her life. Maybe a stronger sexual creature would have grabbed the back of Maggie’s throat and brought her tongue between my legs.

But I was done with maybes.

With my hands free, and Soma f*cking me/Gretchen harder and faster, my fingers flew to my cl*t. They slithered inside me, fingering myself hard. It didn't take long for me or Gretchen to cum. And I didn’t have words for what I felt like. All I knew was that I died. Molly died. I was going to float away, and when I woke up, I’d figure out who Koritsu was.

I had so much to learn.

Chapter 7: Polyphagia

Chapter Text

Eidolon

We had a lead.

Or rather, I had a lead. Io and the rest of her bimbos-for-hire didn’t have a f*cking clue what they were looking for. If Kori knew what the blue-haired woman looked like, she hadn’t said anything. No one else had seen her. Surya and Bastille had been too busy f*cking their brains out and Io …

Well Io was keeping things close to the chest.

That’s fine. This wouldn’t be our first cat-and-mouse game. Layers upon layers and wheels upon wheels with us. She thought I was gangly and weird as the Gray slowly left me frail and gaunt. I thought she was an egomaniac and raging bitch. We found a way to work together without the press knowing how much we hated each other. And I kept up a passing facade of scorn without letting her know how badly I wanted to f*ck her. How badly I wanted her to look up at me from between my legs with my juices coating her chin so I could slap her as hard as possible. Maybe even slap her through the Gray, slap the goddamn-f*cking soul out of her.

So her not knowing that I was spying on her was just a new layer to an old game.

She had spent days pouring over security-camera footage all over the city. She was jacked in to almost every police scanner and reporting hotline one could fathom. She had essentially become a human version of the internet, but she didn’t know what she was looking for. She didn’t know when she was stumbling over the exact thing she needed to save Synapse.

The blue-haired woman.

It was the same unnatural cobalt blue hair that Synapse had. She told me once that she was born that way, but everyone thought she dyed it obsessively. It was too bright to be dyed, and her roots never showed. It was like the kind of blue that some poisonous rain-forest frog would have.

Danger, it said.

Find me, it said.

That’s what I did. The blue-haired woman appeared in the city a few months ago. Apparently, she made quite the initial splash. The first sign of her was walking into a clinic, naked and glorious in her bare form. She was cut and bruised in several places, and while she did receive medical treatment, it wasn’t long until the entire clinic was in a full blown orgy.

Sound familiar?

Whatever mental powers she had, they were either sex-centric or she was just one kinky and f*cked up villainess (I could relate). But this was just step one. Finding her once just proved to me that she was real, that the time in the bunker wasn’t some twisted sexual fantasy we all had together. I mean, the bruises made it clear that things were real, but some of it was so good and so dark. The kind of sh*t you dream about (splitting Io in half with some freakishly sized dild* while she cries out your name and thanks you with each thrust).

For a few days, I kept in the shadows — in the Gray — behind Io’s computer bank to see if I caught any more glimpses of the blue-haired woman. There were a few of her walking the streets in her leather jacket and tight black pants, but nothing concrete. No pattern. I couldn’t very well tell Io to focus on her without giving away what I knew — and what I wanted. That meant I had to hit the streets and find her myself. It meant I had to follow-up my lead.

It meant I was going to the clinic.

Synapse

Maggie and Lin were only the start. The amuse-bouche. I lost track of time quickly. Soma mentioned that Gretchen would get me back in “training condition” quickly, but I didn’t know if that was a bluff or not. That was most of Soma’s game. I never got a grip on reality. Gretchen would mention casually that it was a beautiful Tuesday, but after they knocked me out, the next time Gretchen would be whining that no one loves Mondays. The warehouse was dark, and I never had enough light to see outside of the tiny ring of light shining on Gretchen’s workspace, the table where Maggie was strapped down, and the beautiful bed Soma seemed to be eternally teasing me with.

The bed was a promise.

The bed was a threat.

The bed was a reward.

The bed was the end.

But after Maggie and Lin, there was a revolving door of nameless women. Supple lipstick lesbians. Beautiful transgender women. Non-binary dommes like cruel fairies. Boss girls in suits that cost more than I make in a year stripping down to harnesses and chastity belts. Dommes that reminded me of my mother — all apple pie and scripture until they had a paddle in their hands. Subs that looked like butch powerhouses until they revealed a body riddled with piercings.

I felt each piercing in my own skin.

The extra sensitivity.

The extra pain.

The extra pleasure.

All work. All play. All Synapse.

Each time Gretchen drugged me so I couldn’t control my power. Only Soma was obscured from me, and from the look on her face during our sessions, I knew she was playing with me. She amplified certain sensations and dulled others. She dropped my fear until I smiled like a bimbo while I watched one woman rip the clothes off her sub and bend her over before spanking her repeatedly in the same spot. The bright red lines turned purple but the domme didn’t stop. The sub cried hot tears down our cheeks but begged the domme to keep going while I smiled like a moron, happily accepting the cane against my own thighs through the puppet of the sub.

Puppet.

I hated the word. It was Soma’s term, not mine. That when I hijacked someone’s senses, they were a puppet, not a victim. It was all the same to me, but I found myself adapting the language Soma used. It wasn’t like she called the subs deserving slu*ts that had it coming to them. She said they were puppets that begged to be puppets, and watching the women eagerly come in and submit themselves — being in their bodies as their lust swelled when they lost control — I knew they wanted it. Puppets was as good a word as anything else, though I wasn’t controlling them. I knew Soma had her ways to do that, but I couldn’t manage it.

Yet.

The thought terrified me. I knew it was a slippery slope. I’d start accepting Soma’s terminology for my powers, and then I’d — I don’t know. Become her? Is that where this was going? I can’t deny that part of me was curious. Not the part that wanted to subject other women and use them as sexual puppets. Not that I had any part of me that wanted to do that. But it was the adopted child in me — the orphan in me. She knew my powers. She knew my life. She knew parts of my body and abilities that I could never explain. And more than that, she could make me stronger. What if I didn’t just need to calm down hostages or give a body count of villains before we stormed a building? What if I could actually take a bad guy down? What if I could actually take Soma down? Imagine all the good if I could use my powers to convince bad girls to surrender? I could make them want to put their weapons down and walk out with their hands up. Bastille and Surya had to blast through all their problems. What if I could do it without all the collateral damage and risk?

Peace in our time. Peace in our freaking time.

All work and no play.

“Good morning,” Soma said as her heavy boots clomped over the hard warehouse floor. I wasn’t given much time for self-reflection, and as soon as Soma showed up, I had to put up as many shields as I could. More than likely she could cut through them all, but I —

“I can,” Soma said, sounding bored. I rolled my eyes. Reacting to my thoughts was a cute game but it was little more than parlor tricks. There are surface thoughts that you can barely hide with your face, and then there are the true intentions. She almost never touched them, unless she was letting me get confident so she could read my deep plans like a trashy romance novel.

Soma looked up at me with an arched eyebrow and smirked.

Crap.

She chuckled to herself and took a careful sip from a steaming mug of something. She walked past me to Gretchen’s station and began messing with whatever co*cktail of nonsense they were going to drug me with today.

“No drugs,” Soma said. “I just want you to focus.”

“Without drugs?”

Soma sighed. “I have so much to teach you.”

“Assuming I trust anything you have to offer.”

Soma looked straight at me while she took a sip. There was always such an odd aggression in her looks. I knew it was superfluous. She was always probing my mind. Mentally, she was right next to me, breathing her hot breath down my neck, hovering over my ears. But when she looked at me, it was as though she stepped even closer, as though I could feel her fingers running over the grooves of my mind. I knew I was powerless to stop her. She could drug me. She could knock me out. She could kill me. But this wasn’t going to stop until she had her way or I escaped.

And I’d already blown my chance to run so many times.

After each session, Soma offered me the same choice: cum or run. She’d free my limbs, and though I was turned on and sweating and feeling like I’d been beaten or covered in scalding wax or submerged in ice or whatever kinky play she came up with, I could run. But each time I chose to cum. It felt like no real choice in the moment. Each time my body knew that if it didn’t cum, it would explode. I had to take the deal.

And I never had time to mope like I did in high school or when I joined Aurora Flight. I couldn’t lie in the dark about what an awful person I was for trading freedom for an org*sm. Instead, Gretchen or Soma rushed in with blissful darkness until I woke up for another session.

In fact, today was the most mental free-space Soma had given me since the beginning.

“That’s right,” Soma said. “It’s time to decide what you want out of this experience.”

“To go,” I said.

Soma shook her head. “You’ve made it clear you didn’t want that time and time again.” Soma reached out, and I felt the switch in my body. All at once, the air over my bare puss* was like the roughest and sexiest touch of a lover. I ground my hips against the hospital table, closed my eyes, and gasped as my whole body turned on.

Soma laughed, and like that, the pleasure was gone. My puss* was as numb as though she’d stabbed it with a needle full of novocaine.

“Tell yourself whatever you want, but you’ll never lie to me,” Soma said. “It isn’t the incredible sex that keeps you here, though I could hardly blame you if it was.” She put down her mug and stepped closer to me. She wore no shirt or bra beneath her leather jacket. It was unzipped, but her breasts were hidden. Only an extravagant display of sideboob drew my eye down to her tight stomach and navel.

“It’s the power I have to offer,” Soma said. She ran her fingers down the bare skin exposed by her jacket. She knew I was staring at it. She knew everything.

“So if you want power, it’s time to start training. You have much to learn.”

“You want to make me your apprentice?”

Soma laughed. “You’d be so lucky, but no. Our people don’t share glory. If I ever felt you were close to my ability, I’d kill you in a second.”

“Then why not kill me? Why not —”

“I was sent to find Koritsu and discover why she hasn’t conquered this horrible rock. Now that I’ve found you, I’m going to send you back on your path and find my own species to rule.”

A sudden sadness seized me. My whole life, I’d been alone. Not just a super with a lame power — there were tons of B and C list supers — but I was alone in my faith, alone in my house, alone in —

“Not alone,” Soma said. “You had Faith and Carly. It isn’t my fault you missed the chance to —”

“Faith is my sister. She —”

“Adopted sister,” Soma hissed. “And even if she was blood, she could have been yours. She could have —”

“No.” I closed my eyes, but that has never kept Soma out.

“Oh, Koritsu.” A warmth graced my cheek. It wasn’t the sensation of warmth, but genuine touch on my cheek. I opened my eyes, and Soma was holding my face, smiling warmly at me. “Take the power I have to offer,” she said, “and you won’t miss another opportunity like that again. You’ll never lack for whatever you want. That is what it means to be one of us.”

“I — I —” I shook my head. “I don’t know how.” I didn’t just mean that I didn’t know how to be her. I meant I didn’t know how to take power. I didn’t know how to figure out what I wanted. I didn’t know how —

“Let me teach you.” Soma kissed my forehead gently like a gentle lover.

I nodded before I could think better of it. It wasn’t like thinking had done me any good so far.

***

Eidolon

No one at the clinic remembered the blue-haired woman. I didn’t find that exactly shocking considering her mental abilities. A little forced amnesia was nothing fancy. I did my best and went there anyway, asking questions. I asked if I could look over their records and security footage. I name dropped as many supers as I could think of — most of whom I’d never met. But legally, they couldn’t show me records without a warrant, and I’d seen most of their security footage through Io’s screens. It seemed the blue-haired woman had destroyed most traces of her visitation.

I was just finishing up with Perla, a beautiful Chilean woman with a thick accent and dark features I thought rivaled even Io. Her dark brown skin was smooth and flawless, and her midnight-black hair was up in a ponytail. With her thick cat-eyed glasses and bright red lipstick, she looked young and flirty, but her pantsuit under the white jacket gave her an overwhelming air of professionalism.

“Thank you, Perla,” I said.

“Absolutely,” she said. Goddess, her accent was divine. “Anything I can do to help the investigation.”

“Uh, right.” I don’t know if people can see it when I blush. On one hand, my skin is pale, but on the other hand, all color was leaving my body. I wondered if it was just a darker shade of gray to her.

“Are you sure you don’t remember an incident with a strange woman with blue hair?” I sighed. Perla didn’t know anything. No one knew anything. This was another dead end. “It would have been about seven months ago.”

Perla bit her lip, and it drove me wild. Seriously, if I wasn’t dedicated to breaking Io’s body and spirit, Perla would have been a great distraction from my sexless life. But right now I was putting my hopes in the blue-haired woman. Maybe she would just pin me to a wall again with light, but maybe she … maybe she … I don’t know. I had to find her, but I still didn’t know what I would do if I succeeded. There was no way in hell I’d hand her over to Aurora Flight or the authorities. On my best days, I could convince myself it was all to save Synapse. But at night I dreamed of seeing Io f*cked and broken like Kori. Which one did I want from the strange super? Why not both?

“No, nothing,” Perla said with a shake of her head, letting her hair dance back and forth in waves. “Sorry.”

“Anything from seven months ago?” I took out my phone. I had a few other spots where I could check out before heading back to the Borealis, but I wasn’t feeling optimistic. “Any lapses in memory or blank spaces in a day?”

Perla opened her mouth to speak but then stopped. She held up a finger. “Seven months ago, you say?”

“Mhmm.”

“Is this about Gretchen?”

I lower my phone. “Who?”

“Gretchen Stackhausen. She was a doctor that used to work here. But about seven months ago she disappeared. Didn’t quit or anything. She just …” Perla looked down at her lap.

“Disappeared?” I finished.

Perla nodded without looking up at me. I let the silence build for an adequate time to signal sympathy while I started googling Gretchen Stackhausen. I didn’t see any police report, but Perla was right. She worked here for a few years, but then she stopped. There was no announcement. Her social media pages were dark. It was like she walked off the planet and absolutely no one missed her.

Jackpot.

“Thanks,” I said, standing up. I was already reaching out to some contacts trying to find the last known address of the good doctor. “That’s all I need.” I turned to walk out of the room when I felt a hand on my elbow. I paused and turned to see Perla with a strange look of pain and desperation on her face.

“That’s not all,” she said.

“There’s more about Gretchen?” I asked, looking up from my phone.

Perla bit her lip again and shook her head. “About seven months ago …” She blushed and shook her head, looking away from me.

Oh god, I thought. f*cking jackpot.

***

Synapse

“There are eighty-six billion neurons in the average human brain,” Soma said as she paced around me. A young blonde woman stood in front of me, naked. A moment ago, she looked bored, but when I reached out, the lust was oozing from her. She shifted her weight from side to side, rubbing her thighs together. Her heavy breasts swayed slightly when she did it.

Soma never told me her name. That was new.

“That’s something they have on other species I’ve conquered.” My new trainer — Mistress — paced around me while she talked. But it didn’t matter, anyone who would look away from this blonde with her straight hair down to her butt and thighs thick like … I dunno. Her curves deny metaphors, but I would have killed for her hips. Sometimes Kori took the form of these curvier women, and those were always the hardest days to stay pure. A photo-shopped Insta-barby was easy to ignore. But someone like this — someone that was so much woman — was the kind of body that drove me to temptation time and time again.

Bodies like Faith.

Bodies like Carly.

“More neurons mean more connections. It means there are shortcuts. It means there are all sorts of ways to flow from one thing to another. You can use a fingertip to trigger a memory to make someone horny. Or a smell can send someone into a depressive spiral.”

“Sounds like an instrument with eighty-six billion strings,” the nameless blonde said.

Soma chuckled. “More than that. Add the seven trillion nerve endings to that equation and you get one of the most complex instruments I’ve ever played. It took me months to find the right way to make you all tick.”

“Only months?” the blonde said.

“I found a shortcut,” Soma said.

“Sex,” I said.

“Sex,” Soma agreed. “It’s one of the most complex parts of the body concerning nerve endings, but when it comes to the brain, the whole thing lights up when you’re turned on. More than that, the most dangerous parts shut down.”

“Critical thinking,” I said.

“Cost analysis,” she added.

“Long-term risk assessment.”

“Even pain receptors.” Soma ran a finger over my shoulder. I watched her in the blonde’s eyes. The curvy girl hadn’t taken her eyes off Soma since she’d been brought in. I should be embarrassed that she ignored a perfectly nude me strapped to a table, but I couldn't blame her for her tastes. Soma was in a different category. She still preferred leather, but I’d noticed it was less of a BDSM or biker leather and more of a Parisian supermodel kind of leather. She looked like someone Kori would pretend to be.

“It takes practice to do what I do,” Soma said. “And to practice, it takes a certain lack of scruples.”

“You mean morals.”

“Morals on Earth are nothing like morals back home.”

“Because we conquer worlds,” I said sarcastically.

“Exactly,” Soma said.

“You what?” The blonde asked, but Soma kept talking, ignoring her. I felt the spike of anxiety in her suppressed by a tidal wave of lust. The poor girl was caught up in the scene: me strapped to a table and naked while a beautiful woman in leather paced around me and lectured. She was waiting for the cameras to turn on for the high-budget Sci-Fi p*rno she was about to be a part of.

“You wanted this,” Soma reminded me. “You asked for it.”

I open my mouth to protest, but there was no point. I couldn’t lie to her. Heck, I couldn’t even lie to myself in my mind. Yes, I wanted to know how she did what she does. I wanted that power. There was a lot I could do — a lot I could prove — with the power she was offering me.

“But it was more than that,” Soma said. She was behind me, whispering in my ear with her thick and hot breath, but she had done some trick of feedback input. Her words rang in my ears as I heard myself hearing them and heard them through the blonde girl’s ears hearing them. I might have even heard them in Soma’s ears, but all I knew was that they looped and hissed in my mind until they weren’t just my auditory nerves picking up a sensation. They were something deeper, something rattling around in my mind like it was my own thought.

“Nice trick,” I said.

“Poor deflection,” she countered. She was right.

My mind was an open book, so rather than fight it, I closed my eyes and let her read each chapter. Even with my eyes shut, my mind was still envisioning the blonde. I couldn’t ignore her now, just like I couldn’t ignore the temptation of cumming rather than escaping. There was something in my bones — in my DNA — that called me to her. My whole life I thought I was gay and tried to fight that, but Soma said I was something else.

“Omnisexual,” the woman whispered. Again, the words echoed in my mind.

“But that’s not …”

“No,” Soma said. “That’s not all.” She pointed to the blonde in front of me, her long and strong arm extended past my field of vision looking almost like my own arm for a moment. “What does your body tell you to do to her?”

I didn’t argue with the question. I knew what she meant as soon as she asked it. It wasn’t what my mind wanted. It wasn’t my sexual preferences or my desires. It wasn’t lust or decades of a culture over-saturated with sex and female oppression. It was something more, something deeper. Good God, it was like an ocean deep inside of me, deeper than blood.

“It wants me to hurt her,” I said, blushing as the words came out of my mouth.

The naked blonde had a spike of fear as soon as she heard me, but Soma didn’t suppress it with lust. She let me feel the woman’s fear spreading out like a black fog from her. It should have distressed me. I was an empath. I spent my life getting rid of people’s fear, calming them down.

But I didn’t want her fear to go away now.

I wanted to devour it.

I felt the hunger between my legs, but it was stronger than that. It was in the back of my mind, at the base of my neck. It was like knowing I needed water and food to survive, knowing that you needed to sleep — no, knowing how to go to sleep. My body just knew.

“We’re conquerors,” Soma said. “There’s no way to fight it.”

“But —”

“They’ve tried to break you with their customs and traditions, with their faith.” She hissed the last word, and let it echo in my mind. Shivers went down my spine, but it wasn’t enough to dislodge the burning hunger inside me.

“Why do you think you’ve been attracted to power?” Soma asked. “All those supers you surround yourself with. You don’t want to join them. They’re just tools for doing what you’ve always been designed to do.”

“Puppets,” I said. My mouth was dry. I knew she was unlocking the secrets of my past, of every shameful desire I’ve tried to burn away. But I couldn’t focus on that right now. In front of me, the blonde —I kept calling her tit* in my mind — stood nervous and scared. Horny, nervous, and scared. I wanted to devour her. No. I wanted to break her. To conquer her. I’d seen so many dommes and subs play out their little game in front of me. That was all roleplay. They had safewords and boundaries. They had to stop, had to respect each other.

“Conquerors don’t respect their prey,” Soma said.

“No,” I said. I knew it was wrong. It was all wrong. My whole life was wrong. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be begging to cum rather than escaping. I shouldn’t be submitting to a psychopath that wanted to conquer the planet. I shouldn’t believe a word she said. I should be saving the world. I should be home in my bed. God, I had barely even prayed since I was captured. I was doing it all wrong.

“Because you’ve been doing it their way,” Soma said. “Time to stop pretending to be prey.”

“Can I go?” tit* asked. Her voice cracked, and it broke something in me. She was so weak. Her fear was like perfume, like sex, like searing steak. I wanted to break her for her weakness, to punish her for being so pathetic. Couldn’t she just lean into her lust and arousal like the rest of us? Couldn’t she just shut up and play her role?

Where was all this anger coming from?

“Don’t fight it,” Soma said. “It’s your destiny.”

“I don’t believe in destiny,” I said.

“Then prove me wrong.” Soma stepped away from me and walked behind tit*. She ran her fingertips over the curvy blonde’s bare skin. The woman shivered, and the mixture of arousal and fear pouring off her made me lick my lips. “Do whatever you want with her,” Soma said. “DNA be damned.”

“Whatever I want?”

Soma smirked. “You don’t know where to start, do you?”

I smiled, and it felt wrong, like stretching a muscle long atrophied. But it was right somehow, it was my face — my true face. “Eighty-six billion neurons.”

Soma’s smile spread. “Then let’s start with a few of my favorites.”

Chapter 8: Anterolateral System

Chapter Text

Eidolon

The blue-haired woman could do more than turn someone on. Apparently, she could turn someone off.

Permanently.

Perla was embarrassed at first, and she asked me to come back later to tell me all about it. When I threatened to leave immediately, she backed down. She took me to her apartment, still too ashamed to talk about it anywhere in public.

I don’t blame her.

Since Gretchen’s random disappearance, Perla hadn’t been able to org*sm. Though, honestly, that was too simplistic. It was more like Perla’s puss* was numb. She could touch it — it could even get wet — but she couldn’t feel it. Not like novacaine. It was more like an absence. Even her fingers couldn’t feel her puss* if they touched it. She thought she had some kind of brain-disease, but she was too embarrassed to go to a doctor. As a doctor herself, it didn’t make sense. It was like where her puss* was concerned, her mind detected an absence. It was a blackhole of senses in her body.

It was the blue-haired woman’s work.

I tried to tell her all about the blue-haired woman, that she was a super I was looking for, that I thought she had mind-influencing powers that could do something like this, that I think she erased some of Perla’s memory along with the rest of the staff, that I thought she had something to do with Gretchen’s disappearance.

But Perla was useless. Worse than useless. Once she started talking about her dead puss*, that was all she talked about. She told me how it killed her marriage. How for a while, she thought she was asexual until she realized she could get aroused from p*rn. From almost anything. She paid for strippers, prostitutes, picked men and women up at bars. All of it. She tried threesomes. She tried drugs. She tried being drunk. She tried it all, but nothing worked. Her life was ruined in one thoughtless and cruel move from the blue-haired woman.

I had to admit, it was kind of brilliant.

I couldn’t imagine being as beautiful as Perla — able to have any man or woman I wanted —and not being able to feel anything with a lover. Is that what Bastille felt with all her invulnerability? Did her beauty and size gain her lovers but no pleasure? I don’t know, but it felt cruel to leave someone like that.

I wondered if the blue-haired woman could do that to Io for me.

After a few drinks and a crappy dinner she cooked, I decided to head home. As crappy as Perla felt, it did nothing for me to sit and mope with her. But as I tried to step out of her apartment, she grabbed my hand.

“Please,” she whined. “You have to help me.”

“I will,” I said.

“No. Please. I —” She shook her head. “I can’t do this any longer.”

“I —” I didn’t want to tell her that clearly she could — that some of us had felt dead between the legs for longer than seven months — but I didn’t think that would get me out the door. “I’ll do what I can,” I said. “I have to find this woman first.”

“And she can fix it?” Perla licked her lips. Some of her lipstick was smudging from all the biting and licking and wine and dinner. The appeal of her died more and more each moment. Her desperation was the biggest buzzkill of all.

“I don’t know,” I said. I wrenched my hand out hers. “I have to go.” I tried to step around her, but she was fast and, unfortunately, stronger than me (most people were these days).

“Please, you have to —”

I stepped into the Gray out of reflex. I didn’t want to travel far — just to the other side of her. I wanted to slip right through her shadow and get on the other side of the door, out of her stifling apartment and clingy attitude. I didn’t think her dead puss* was what really destroyed her marriage in the end.

But as I passed through, she let out something like a gasp as I materialized on the other side of the door.

No. Not a gasp.

A moan.

Her apartment door swung open behind me, and Perla was clutching herself — one hand over her breasts and one between her legs — as she looked at me like I was Aphro-f*cking-dite.

“What was that?” she asked breathlessly.

“My power?”

“Your power?”

I nodded. “I can step through shadows and —”

She grabbed my hands and pulled me inside.

***

Synapse

“You don’t need to be so obvious,” Soma said. I closed my eyes and tried to reset myself. I took a deep breath before opening them again, taking in the scene. The curvy and doe-eyed blonde with the long long hair and huge tit* (known to me only as “tit*”) was still staring in front of me in the tiny circle of light in the abandoned warehouse. Behind her was the four-poster bed I could only imagine would be the sight of plenty of erotic and dirty things should I ever get freed from the straps on this hospital bed tilted up so I could take in the scene. More importantly, the scene could take in me. tit* watched me and shifted her weight from foot to foot, rubbing her thighs together, and Soma stood at her table and bank of computers where Gretchen — her pet doctor — would normally monitor my vitals or drug me as needed.

But today it was just me, tit*, and Soma’s disappointment.

“Besides,” Soma said as she brushed her long blue hair out of her eyes, “you couldn’t possibly handle a puss* right now.”

I sighed. Soma wanted me to focus on sensing just one body part at a time, but not to settle for just the impression of the body part, as I tended to do. She wanted me to understand each nerve ending and each pathway up to the brain and then each neuron and dendrite connection once there. Apparently when she said “any body part,” she didn’t mean tit*’s puss*.

Also, when did Soma start calling them puss*es? She’d been on earth maybe a few months? A few years? She didn’t grow up with our terms and especially not our slang.

“Our people pick up language quickly,” she said. “When you can peel it from thoughts rather than spoken words, you get it twice as fast. And most humans call it a puss* in their mind. Not a vagin*, which is anatomically incorrect most of the time. It’s a vulva, but they don’t call it that or the labia or even the cl*tor*s. It’s a puss* in Bridget’s mind, and —”

tit*’s name was Bridget? I much preferred tit*.

“And it’s a puss* in your mind,” Soma finished. She smiled at me. “And I prefer tit* too.”

“Huh?” tit* said, licking her lips. “Listen, are we gunna f*ck or —”

I felt something warm and wet run over tit*’s skin. Her mind was open to me, making it feel like something warm and wet — like a human tongue — was running over my skin. We both moaned as Soma’s mental touch went from our necks, to between our breasts, and down down down between our legs.

“Let’s start again,” Soma said. “And pick some other part.”

“Part of what?” tit* asked. There was a quaver in her voice. Maybe she knew if she talked again, Soma would shut her up in the same way. Maybe that’s exactly what she wanted to happen.

“Any suggestions?” I asked.

“Why not go for the obvious?” Soma asked.

“That’s not too complex for me?”

“Of course it is. If we wanted to start with what you were ready for, we could start with a knuckle. Or a fingernail. But neither of us have the patience for that do we?” Soma’s smile twisted into a predatory grin. Her voice changed as she f*cked with my auditory senses and the skin on my neck, making it sound like she was right behind, like she was breathing warm and hot and wet on my ear. “We both want to get to the fun part.”

I smiled and felt myself calm down. My nerves settled, and a faint tingling of anticipation spread over me. That wasn’t Soma’s doing — her manipulation always felt forced and foreign, even when she was being gentle. This was my body tuning in and warming up.

“tit*,” I said. The curvy blonde looked up at me. “We’re going to have some fun.”

Then I focused my energy on her large, dark nipples.

***

Eidolon

Perla slammed the door behind us. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It doesn’t normally pass through things. I always felt I went around or skipped things entirely. Seriously, I —”

Perla spun me and pinned me against the walls. I cried out as I realized this woman was much stronger than she looked. But worse than that, there was a manic look in her eye that I absolutely did not want to f*ck around with.

“Hey,” I said. “What are —”

Perla broke my sentence with a kiss. It wasn’t gentle or earnest. Hell, it wasn’t even good. It was like a drowning woman looking for oxygen. The kind of drowning woman that’s dangerous, that is more likely to pull you under and take you with her than to use you to save herself.

She pulled away, her dark eyes wide and her thick brows raised. “How did you do that?” she asked.

“Do what?”

She pressed in for the attack again, crushing her lips against mine. I tried to wiggle away from her, but then her hands were wrapped around my wrists, and — holy f*ck — she was strong. Being a super doesn’t exactly make one any stronger than anyone else, but we get punched more than the average person and learn how to handle ourselves in a fight — even if that means escaping. But like I said, Perla was strong, and stepping through the Gray always took something out of my body. Eventually, I’d be no more than bones if I kept at the hero gig for too long.

“Please,” I said through muffled and crushed lips. Perla was moaning into me, drowning out my pleas, but she didn’t sound sincere. I tried to kick at her, to spread her legs and weaken her stance, but I had nothing. I could always step through the Gray and get the hell out of here, but —

“Do it again,” Perla pleaded. Now that desperation was believable. The moaning was forced, but the need was real, like she was faking an org*sm for me.

“Do what?” I asked now that I was permitted to speak.

She led my hand between her legs and pressed hard, grinding against my palm and whimpering while nothing happened to her dead nerves. “Please,” she whined. “Do it again. The Gray. Whatever it is. Please. Do it again.”

She pressed harder on my hand, almost breaking my fingers against her pelvis bone. I cried out in pain, and my body took over. One second I was there — practically being raped by this beautiful Chilean woman — and then I was on the other side of the room. As I stepped out of the Gray and felt the gross sensation wash over me — like being covered in grease — I turned around in time to see Perla fall to her knees, moaning again.

This time, I believed her moans.

She pressed her fingers against her crotch and rubbed frantically. After a moment, she cried out and slammed her fists against the floor of the apartment. Tears started to roll down her face as she cried out.

From beneath us, someone banged on their ceiling, telling us to shut-up.

Perla crumpled to the ground, and I almost felt bad for her. If it weren’t for the fact that she almost raped me and was completely useless to me, I would feel bad for her. But every minute I didn’t know where the blue-haired woman was, I lost my lead over Aurora Flight. Io would catch up eventually, and then I’d have to help them take her down and save Synapse instead of … instead of …

Well, honestly, I’d hadn’t gotten that far.

All I knew was that the blue-haired woman had the power to f*ck Kori like a cheap whor* and make Kori f*cking love being a cheap whor*. She had the power to make Surya and Bastille practically destroy each other and a building with their wild f*cking while every other villain we’d ever face couldn’t touch them. If she could do that, she could teach me how to bend Io over and make her beg. To drag Io into the Gray and leave her puss* there while her face was on the other side of reality, buried in my puss*. She could teach me how to crush people like she did, to make them cry and beg and whimper like pathetic little Perla, all dead inside and horny.

Like Perla …

“How did you do that?” Perla asked. She was crawling to me across the apartment. “Please, I have to know. Show me. Please.”

Just. Like. Perla.

“And what do I get out of it?” I stood straighter. Perla was stronger than me, but so was everyone, really. That didn’t f*cking matter. None of them could do what I did.

“What?” Perla stopped in her tracks. I smirked. “What do —”

“You can’t just pin someone against a wall and grind against their hand, Perla,” I said, clicking my tongue in disapproval. “That’s rape.”

Perla’s mouth dropped open. “I just … I …” She shook her head in disbelief. “I didn’t mean to —”

“I’ll have to call the police,” I said, taking out my phone. “And I can’t imagine the clinic would tolerate a sex-offender working in their building.”

Perla bolted towards me on all four as the power flipped in the room. I stepped through the Gray, ignoring the emptiness and flood of depression that surged through me. The world was colorless and grimm, but it didn’t bother me as much this time. I had something to look forward to.

I stepped out from the other side of the room. My phone was out, and I held it out so Perla could see the screen. 911 was dialed. All I had to do was press ‘call.’

“Please,” she said.

“You say that a lot.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Oh, I know.”

“I just haven’t been able to … ever since …”

“I know,” I said. “But that doesn’t excuse your behavior, does it?”

Perla opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. She licked her lips, and though her eyes darted around the room, they always came back to the phone in my hand. She couldn’t catch me if she wanted, and besides, apparently I had something she wanted bad enough to almost rape me. She was helpless, but sometimes it takes a while for that thought to settle in. At first, the brain panics and will claw at anything to escape, but once that fails, an animal will settle into subservience and submission. A dog may snarl and bite, but once it knows who its master is, it will bow its head.

Just like Perla did now.

“Please. Anything,” Perla said. Her voice was calmer and lower, letting some of that delicious sultry thickness return to it.

“Take your clothes off,” I commanded before I could even figure out why I wanted it to happen. She was beautiful, but a moment ago I wanted to get out of here, to get back to work. But now I think there was something valuable, something fun. Perla was more than a sexy diversion.

She was practice.

***

Synapse

It was harder than it looked. Even phantom sensations like Soma’s psychic tongue running over my body felt impossible to duplicate.

“Don’t obsess over the nipple,” Soma said for the thirteenth time. “Focus on the strings leading it back to the mind. Pull on them like a puppeteer.”

“I know,” I sighed. “It’s just —”

“Just what?” Soma snapped. “Children on Neoros can do this.”

“I …” I let the excuse die on my lips. I could feel tit*’s brain feeling her nipple. I could hijack that feeling and share it with her. But making her brain feel something that had no stimulus felt like making a windmill spin without a breeze. I understood that if I found the right part of the body that decoded stimulus from the nipple, I could try to reverse engineer the sensation. But it’s not like there’s a nipple part of the brain or even a nipple neuron. It was all clusters. It was like trying to find the right piece of corn from the cob while only able to grab the whole cob. It was all tangled and connected.

“Watch,” Soma said. She stepped from behind her bank of computers and approached tit*. “Look at her brain, not her body. And don’t hijack. You’re directing, not spectating.” Without warning, Soma bent down and licked tit*’s large nipple. The thick blonde moaned, and I stared through her, my vision shifting to almost an MRI readout of her body and brain activity. The pathway connecting the brain and the nerve endings on the nipple shined bright and then faded to nothing.

tit* moaned as Soma pulled her lips and tongue away from the hard nipple. “Memorize the path,” Soma said. Before I could say anything back, she returned to tit*’s nipple, licking gently and teasing it with slow flicks. tit* arched her back, but I focused on her mind and nerve endings. I stared at the pathway that looked like a lightning bolt going from the nipple to the brain and flickering with each tease of Soma’s tongue.

I didn’t know how long this went on. I lost track of time as Soma took me on a tour of tit*’s body and brain. She teased one nipple and then the other. She teased both at the same time. She twisted the nipples and mingled in pain. She showed me the difference between the fingers and the tongue — the difference between wet and not. She showed me hot wax and an ice cube. Different parts lit up but some parts stayed the same, and slowly — it felt impossibly slow — I started to understand how the nipple worked in relation to the brain.

tit* begged us to stop, but we both ignored her. I sunk into a surreal level of focus — flow — as I memorized lightning bolts in the body, understanding how it worked and how the mind controlled it. The mind didn’t just respond to reality, to the human trapped in that mind, it dictated reality. It didn’t matter if someone was actually touching Soma’s nipple. With the right push, I could touch her nipple with nothing but my mind. I could run an ice cube over it. I could drop hot wax over it. I could suckle it. I could bite it. I could hook it up to a battery and send volt after volt of electricity through it. It wouldn’t be real, but tit*’s brain wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. And if her brain couldn’t tell the difference, neither could she.

“Push,” Soma commanded again. That was what she called it. When we picked up on their sensations and shared it with our victim — what I’d thought of as hijacking — she called that Pulling. Push to create a sensation. Pull to experience a sensation. I focused and pushed on tit*’s mind, letting her mind feel my tongue over her nipple. It was wet and thick, heavy and warm. tit* collapsed onto the table Maggie had once been strapped to. She whimpered but she didn't beg us to stop. I could already read that she didn’t want it to stop. She wanted to cum, but that wasn’t the same thing.

“Again,” Soma commanded. “Switch it.”

I obeyed, adding a mental icecube to tit*’s nipple. She arched her back and cried out. I wondered if I could pull the sensation and feel it myself, if I could f*ck a victim and f*ck myself all at the same time.

“No,” Soma said, severing my connection with tit*. “The feedback would be terrible and probably leave you both in a coma.”

“Couldn’t I just cut it off before —”

“Maybe, but I doubt you would. I doubt even I would. It would feed itself and suck you into that desire.”

“Oh.”

“And worse, you could lose touch with reality,” Soma said. She stepped out of the ring of light in the warehouse. When she returned, she was holding a fresh apple. She took a huge bite out of it and talked while she chewed. “One thing you must never forget is that it's a trick. That’s the power we have over our prey.”

Soma always thought of them as prey when I thought of them as victims.

“They think the sensations are real, and they will bend to them. We can make them dependent or addicted to a phantom touch. That’s our power over them, with a stray thought we can give them the sexual sensation that will grant us hours of obedience. But if we were to participate in our own game, we would lose track of what was real. It would be the beginning of insanity.”

Soma walked over to me and offered me the apple. I lifted my head off the hospital table and took a bite. It was fresh and clean, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Nor how dry my mouth was. I closed my eyes and savored the crisp tartness while Soma went and offered a bite to a sweaty and exhausted tit*. The dumb blonde was muttering about touching herself, but she took a bite of the apple anyways.

Then I felt Soma’s strange touch in my mind. I tasted apple in my mouth again, felt my mouth water with saliva, felt my throat contract to swallow, and even felt some of my hunger curb and abate.

“You can’t live off imaginary apples,” Soma said. “And it wouldn’t take long for your mind to confuse real apples with fake ones.” My eyes widened as I realized what she meant. Soma took another large bite from the apple and shook her head. “Enough of that.” She pointed to tit*, still sprawled and desperate to be played with on the table. “You can Push. Good. Now I need you to Link.”

“Link?”

Soma spat out an apple seed, then smiled. “This is where we learn about control.”

***

Eidolon

I gave Perla the basics of what I knew about the blue-haired woman while she stripped for me. She didn’t do it sexily, though I wished I’d ordered her to do it that way. She was beautiful. Like a lingerie model. And a f*cking doctor. Some women have all the luck with bountiful tit* and flat stomachs and perfect hips for g-strings to hug. They aren’t all twigs and skeletons like me.

But then again, they didn’t have the Gray like me.

It was a curse and a gift. For a while, I thought stepping through the shadows was the gift. But Perla was helping me realize the other side. Cursing others with it could be my gift. It would be my perfect present wrapped up for Io when all this was over.

“So we need to find her,” Perla said. She tried to keep her voice calm and professional, but I knew she was still afraid and horny all at once. Honestly, it was pathetic. But it made me smile. It reminded me of Kori. But now I wasn’t hiding in the shadows. Now I was the blue-haired woman. Perla hated me and wanted me and feared me and needed me all at once.

That was power.

“She can cure me?” Perla asked.

“Yes,” I lied. The blue-haired woman was probably capable of curing Perla. But I doubted she had any intention of ever doing so.

“But in the meantime,” I said. I stepped into the Gray and stepped out of Perla’s shadow. Her skin was dark brown and flawless. I ran my hand over her shoulder, and the woman tightened and shivered. “I think I know how to help you.”

“You do?”

“Do you know what I do?” I asked.

Perla shook her head. I ran my fingertips down her arms. “I slide between matter.” My fingertips went down down down. Over the tight and flat tummy of this flawless but broken woman. “Right between those nerve endings that she numbed.” Right down the waxed and smooth area above her puss*. Perla’s body was tight with anticipation, and she gripped my forearms. Not to stop me, but to brace herself. “And into the Gray.”

I sent my hand — just my hand — into the Gray as it slid through Perla’s puss*.

My first real victim moaned as I entered her.

***

Synapse

“Link fingertips to nipples, and they’ll touch everything,” Soma said. “Not just themselves, but what if you want them to touch someone else. To hurt someone else?”

I watched as tit* touched the table and moaned as her whole body lit up with pleasure.

“Of course, what if I Linked fingertips to something better?” Soma asked. “What about fingertips to cl*t? What would someone do for you if the simplest obedience was reinforced with org*sm?” Soma licked her lips. “What if there was no other way for them to find that release?”

***

Eidolon

Perla pressed back against me. Her whole body went tight with pleasure as I found the spot Perla thought was taken away. She thought it was gone forever, but I found it.

And now she owed me.

Now she would do anything for me to have it again.

I had her soul in my hands.

If she thought she needed to rape me to have it, what would she do now for me?

First I had to show her how good it could be.

How badly she wanted it.

Then I had to take it away.

***

Synapse

“Crack this vault,” Soma said. “And get pleasure. Every time you get one number right, you’ll cum. Get inside, and I’ll show how much pleasure the human body can feel. What’s the saying?” she said with a rueful smile. “Ah yes. I’ll turn it up to eleven.”

“What?” tit* asked as she writhed on the table. She as running her hands over the edge of it, grinding her hips into the air and f*cking absolutely nothing as pleasure surged through her. She was breathless and covered in sweat.

“Do you understand, Koritsu?”

“I do,” I said. “That’s how you controlled Hauzer.”

“And Gretchen and Lin and Maggie and little old tit* right here soon. Human behavior is driven by desire and reinforced with pleasure. They’re all little addicts, and I just need them addicted to obeying me. It’s that simple.”

“Addicted to cracking vaults,” I said. It made perfect sense. She didn’t need to force anyone. She was a dam, an aqueduct, a sophisticated irrigation system of human desire. She just directed the flow and let the river do the rest.

“Taking hostages,” Soma added.

“Getting you money.”

“Power.”

“Resources.”

“Yes,” Soma said. “Or it can be as simple as making obedience simply the sweetest thing in the galaxy. Then you can have anything you want from them. But first,” Soma snapped her fingers, and tit* sat up, looking dazed and confused. “Make sure you are the only source of their pleasure.”

***

Eidolon

“No, please,” Perla whined. “Don’t stop. Don’t go.”

My hand was out of the Gray and out of Perla. “What do I get out of this?” I asked.

“I can,” Perla flipped around, “do whatever you want. Whatever you need.” I stared at her, unimpressed. “You need help finding the blue-haired woman? Gretchen? I can do that.”

I arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “How? You couldn’t even remember her.” I shook my head. “You’re useless to me.” I started to stand up, but Perla’s strong arms grabbed my shoulders and held me down on the floor.

“No!” The same desperation was in her eyes. “I can help. I can —”

“We both know I can step out of your hands,” I said. “You can’t keep me here.”

“Let me …” Perla looked around the apartment. She licked her lips, as she tried desperately to figure out what I wanted. She barely knew me. I was a stranger with a strange power, but she needed me. That was a new power for me, and it was intoxicating. It felt like the opposite of the Gray. Where stepping into shadows took all color, light, and meaning from life, this power made everything brighter. My body thrummed with blood and lust and vitality. I felt strong. Stronger than Bastille or Surya. Not just stronger, but better. Better than each member of Aurora Flight, and especially Io. She’d chased approval and popularity, but here it was, knocking on my door, looking for any way to please me.

Perla’s eyes locked on my jean jacket and white shirt. “I can serve you,” she said. “I know how.” She frantically tried to peel off my shirt. “Please. Let me. Let me.”

I stepped into the Gray and appeared on the other side of the room. Perla was crumpled on the floor, naked and pathetic looking. I loved it. All those muscles. All that beauty. All those brains. And yet she was bent and broken in front of me. She was nothing.

“Not like that,” I said. I curled a finger. “I want you to beg.” Perla looked at me, and though she understood that I was going to humiliate her, that I was going to f*ck her on my terms, that I was going to dominate and break her, there was a look of relief that spread over her. I was going to give her what she needed, and that was all that mattered. She’d sink low if it meant she would get my phantom touch.

“And crawl,” I added.

Perla bit her lip and nodded.

***

Synapse

tit* had gone insane. She writhed on the table and ran her hand between her legs. She howled when she felt nothing there. I Pulled on the sensation. Every pleasure center in her body had gone numb and dead. tit* knew something was touching her puss*, but it brought no pleasure. It brought nothing at all.

“Please,” she begged. “Please please please.”

“And now I own them,” Soma said. She had stepped next to me and my hospital bed. We both watched in amazement as tit* howled at no one in particular. She wasn’t even begging us for relief, but rather some unknown and uncaring god.

“How do you do that?”

“A block is easy. Blocking everything is difficult, but I can teach you with practice.”

“Practice?”

“A few dozen numb humans, and I think you’ll be able to do it reliably. We’ll want you to do it quickly before you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Soma put her head on my shoulder. It was bizarre and maternal all at once. Gretchen had been the only one to show me any intimacy since I arrived at the warehouse. Getting it from Soma felt wrong, but not because it was incorrect. It was like a shirt that was too large to fit, but it was my shirt. She understood my body, my powers, my past more than anyone else on the planet. She should have been my friend and mentor this entire time. Imagine all the good I could have done if I could have made villains numb with a press of my mind.

“You’ll have to be quick to Block someone if they want to attack you.”

I imagined bank robbers unable to make their fingers pull triggers. I’d have to be very fast indeed.

“Not for them, Koritsu.” Soma sighed. “For your friends.”

“What?”

Soma shook her head. “For another time.” Soma pointed to tit*. “She’s ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“But I — I don’t —” I was thinking of my friends. I wasn’t going to do this to them. I thought of Kori and Eidolon. I’d never do something as terrible as this to them. Not in a million —

“You want it back?” Soma asked.

“Please,” tit* said. She had crumbled to the floor. Her mascara and eyeliner were running down her face as she cried. “Anything.”

Soma pat my thigh. “Eat her out. You cum when she does.”

I looked to Soma, but she was ignoring me, focusing on our victim.

A deranged smile appeared on tit*’s face. She rushed across the room, but Soma held up a hand. “No. Not like that.” She pointed back to the table and tit* sulked back to it, looking confused.

Soma curled a finger. “Now this time, crawl.”

Chapter 9: Perceptual Isolation

Chapter Text

Synapse

“Don’t worry,” Soma said as she closed the giant tank. “You’re not dead.”

“Right,” I said. “I just don’t want to —”

But Soma didn’t wait for whatever quip or complaint I had. She shut the door to the sensory deprivation chamber and left me in complete darkness, floating in the strange water that muted everything.

No. Darkness wasn’t the term. It was nothingness. It reminded me of how Eidolon used to describe the Gray. All color drained from the world, but with it went all music and warmth. I was floating in nothingness, my finely tuned instruments — my senses — were taken from me. Soma said I needed sessions like these to train me for accuracy, to hone my skills. She said I was clumsy and brutish. I had no finesse, apparently.

But in reality, I was just distracted.

Soma may have had a lifetime of disociating sex from morality, of losing any sense of modesty and decency, of blending kink and cruelty effortlessly. I however, did not. All the training was sex in one form of another. Sure, it started with permission to let myself cum, but once I got to play with our victims, it wasn’t just an intellectual arousal.

Once I had tit* between my legs, I didn’t care about her nerve endings anymore. I only cared about mine.

And it wasn’t just tit*. We’d have several different women in the warehouse. I’d learned how to manipulate their fingertips and nipples, their lips and skin, their ears and eyes. Soma insisted I still wasn’t ready for the puss*, but I think she was keeping it from me, dangling it in front of me as a carrot. There was no way the puss* was more complex than the eyes or the skin. Weeks of training — or I at least I thought it was weeks, time was impossible to sort out here — and I still wasn’t good enough. Soma wouldn’t let me out of my straps for anything but a drugged cleaning by Gretchen, let alone out of the warehouse.

But that didn’t matter. They came to me. tit* and Maggie and Lin and Gretchen and Minerva and Carla and Tonya and Ladashia. A lifetime of pleasures denied, of desires subdued, of craving curbed was opened for me and my delight. It was all on Soma’s terms, of course, but now I didn’t just hijack or Pull a kiss between two strangers and imagine what it would be like when someone kissed my lips. Now they weren’t just kissing my lips, if I was good — if I was focused — they would kiss any part of me. My feet. My hands. My ass if I was ever let free from the table. But my puss* most of all. Only Lin had not eaten me out.

Soma said it was because I was clumsy and because I wasn’t cruel enough. I had to break Lin if I wanted her to serve me. But it didn’t matter to me. What virgin cares about the quality of sex they have? All that matters at first is having it. Though I wouldn’t consider anything we were doing sex,

And now the deprivation chamber.

I felt Maggie and Lin walk into the room. Their senses were like the sound of a friend’s voice or a familiar scent. I Pulled and hopped into their senses but was immediately disappointed. Both women were blindfolded and had earplugs in. I could work with that, but everything was dark and fuzzy. Soma had even gone so far to numb parts of their bodies. I don’t know if she was blocking them, me, or just drugged them. I could hardly tell which one was Lin and which was Maggie.

Then Lin grabbed a crop and things became clear to me. I smiled in anticipation of what came next. I had to decide which one I wanted to Pull on and hijack their sensations. The pain and pleasure Maggie was about to experience was always delicious, but I was learning to delight in the cruel sad*stic lust that blossomed insided Lin.

Lin was talking. Maggie smiled. Something else. I couldn’t hear them myself from the chamber, but I couldn't hear what they heard either, couldn’t Pull the sensation. But I felt the movement of the tongue in the mouth and the shape of lips. I couldn’t read it, but I knew there was talking. Hands were unzipping something. Lin’s hands. No. Maggie’s hands? It was hard to tell.

There was a rush of cold as someone was naked. No bra. No panties. Nothing but cold air over wet skin. I licked my lips and savored the sweet sensation of my tongue over the sensitive skin. The lack of so many senses made the ones available to me bright and beautiful. Like the ropes biting into Maggie’s wrists or the warmth budding between Lin’s legs. Maggie’s lips moved, and I imagined her crying out, but I couldn’t hear her. I could only enjoy Lin’s delight at hearing her sub squeal and beg. I could only lick my lips — these damn, sensitive lips — as Maggie dropped deep into subspace, as she worshiped the pain, as it brought her deeper and deeper into nothingness.

Subspace should have been my favorite sensation to hijack and Pull on. It was a breathtaking sensation for a sub like Maggie. The girl was a true sub, and the more Lin dominated her, the smaller she became. She begged to be made small. She wanted more. More pain. More denial. More humiliation. More of all the wicked sins Lin dragged her through. But the whining stopped when she was deep. She didn’t cry out or wish for it to stop. She accepted her place as nothing. The world faded away. She had no desires but Lin’s desires — and I knew it to be true. I could feel it. I knew better than anyone how much of a no thing Maggie became. I didn’t think humans were capable of such self-lessness. Even martyrdom has its own cruel self-ishness. But not subspace. Not Maggie when Lin was behind the riding crop or the flogger or the whip.

But it still wasn’t for me.

It should have been.

God knows I’d been trained all my life to be meek and small. I should have wanted to sit in that space with Maggie and become nothing right along with her. Like another useless member of Aurora Flight, there to help. Just another good girl at church, spreading the love of Jesus. Just another good daughter, obeying all the rules.

But somehow I found a space between admiring Maggie for how pathetic she became while never wanting to be her. The first few times I Pulled on a scene between a domme and a sub, I sank into the sub’s skin. I felt a kinship as we were both strapped down and played with. Soma was my domme, and I was her sub, no matter how reluctantly I agreed to the arrangement. That was how the script should have gone. Meek girl becomes meek hero becomes reluctant thrall.

But instead, I craved to be Lin.

Not that I could. I mean, I was strapped to a hospital bed in the middle of an abandoned warehouse with a super three times my strength keeping me in place. I should have been content with the scraps Soma threw me each day. I should have been happy she hadn’t killed me yet or just made me numb to every sensation possible. I didn’t doubt that she could block my powers entirely and leave me castrated.

But I always had Lin.

The feel of the whip in her hand. The sound as it struck Maggie’s flesh. The thrill in my body as Maggie cried out but didn’t ask me to stop. She wanted me to keep going. She begged me to keep going. She wanted another slap and another. She wanted more pain upon more pain. All my darkness. All my lust and anger and cruelty. She wanted all of it piled on top of her. She could take it. She was an endless abyss, waiting to be filled by my darkness.

Sometimes, I wondered if all people weren’t that way.

Maybe that’s how Soma did it. Maybe to her, each human was an infinite abyss waiting to be filled with her darkness. No. I imagined Soma didn’t think of it as darkness at all, but I could never think that way. Hurting people was darkness. Bending them over and f*cking them supid was darkness. f*cking them until they were bruised and sore and begging was darkness. Taking and taking and taking was darkness. Like hijacking your sister when she’s masturbating. Like craving your best friend from afar and waiting for her to bend to your will. All that darkness inside of me. Maybe Maggie wasn’t the only one who wanted it.

Maybe every human wanted it.

***

Eidolon

“Please,” Perla said with her thick accent and puffy lips. “Please let me cum.” She was grinding against me, humping my pale legs with her dark brown body, her lithe and curvy body, her absolutely perfect body.

I smirked. Perfect in all ways but one.

You’d think I’d get tired of this game, of winding her up just to let her down. I could play with her nipples for hours, and she’d just about explode. Explode but never cum. She was entirely incapable of it. Besides shutting down all sensory and pleasure nerve endings in her puss* — lips to cl*t — the blue-haired woman seemed to sever whatever connections let her org*sm at all. She’d tried it all: anal, women, nipples, everything she could think of. Nothing let her cum.

Except me.

All I had to do was reach through the Gray. It was a new skill for me, sliding my hand through a person, treating the insides of their body like a shadow. Years ago, when I was first learning my powers, I would never have tried it. I’d hate to end up inside someone or hurt them.

I didn’t care so much anymore.

But after weeks of playing with Perla — f*cking her late into the night and sending her out to find the blue-haired woman all day — I still wasn’t bored of it. It was the same routine. She quit her job to hunt the blue-haired woman full time. I worked with Aurora Flight and tried to stay ahead of Io on the trail for the mysterious stranger. But then at night, if Perla had a bit of news for me, she got her reward.

Most nights she got nothing.

Because most days we found nothing.

And I’ll admit, sometimes she found something, and I still didn’t let her cum. Those were the best moments, if I’m being honest. I think that’s what kept me with her, kept me coming back. At this point, she didn’t have anything I needed. She was fun. Well, sometimes. Honestly, she was whiny and needy. At the very least, she was amusing.

Yes, that’s it. She amused me.

It’s not like all the attention and org*sms didn’t hurt either. Perla made me dinner. She made breakfast in the morning. I could put her mouth to my puss* anytime I wanted, as many times a day as I could stand. Perla was relentless, but she was also helpless. If she annoyed me, I left. If she bored me, I left. Sometimes I left when she had been a very very good girl. I had to remind her that she wasn’t in charge, that I didn’t even have to obey the rules or the system. I did what I wanted, and she got the scraps.

“Please let me cum,” she pleaded. She was grinding her puss* against my thigh, but that would never do anything for her. I pushed her off and rolled out of bed. “Please, please, please.” She crawled after me on her knees.

“You’ve been a very good girl,” I said.

Perla sat up. A huge smile spread across her face. “Truly?”

I smiled back. She looked like a cute puppy dog. I bent down and patted her head affectionately. “Yes,” I said. “But I’m bored.”

Her smile melted as tears flooded her round and large eyes. Without her usual smokey cat eye makeup, she looked a bit like a cartoon character: all sweet and innocent. I knew better though. I’d seen how far she walked in darkness to get me to f*ck her.

She wasn’t so different from me I guess.

“Please,” she whined. “I’ll do —”

I held up a finger, silencing her. “No.” I pulled on my clothes. “I won’t find the blue-haired woman here.” Perla sat in silence, properly chastised. She knew that if she annoyed me too much and pushed me too far, I’d leave without looking back. She had to be interesting more than anything else. God knows she wasn’t useful anymore.

“I’ll call you if I feel like it,” I said before I opened the door to the apartment. I looked back, and she was still on her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. You would never know she was horny and writhing moments ago. The mood died so quickly for her. It was a shame. Part of me wanted to stay. I could leave the room but hide in the shadows, watching her moan and wail while she fingered herself pointlessly. That wouldn’t be a bad way to spend an evening.

But it wouldn’t be a productive way to spend the evening either.

I closed the door behind me and popped my hood up against the cold night. In truth, Perla reminded me too much of me. Desperation drove her to darkness. She found something that fulfilled a hidden and deep itch in her soul, and she wasn’t going to rest until she found relief. That wasn’t so different from me and the blue-haired woman. But the difference was that Perla never learned to love her darkness. She was still holding onto the desire, hoping the dark would answer her prayer. But I knew that if the dark had the power, then the dark was what I wanted. I wanted to be the dark, not just walk through it. Then I’d contain all I could ever desire.

The trek back to the Borealis was dull, but it gave me time to process what I knew. After weeks of searching, I found other places where the blue-haired woman had popped up. The clinic was just one stop of many for her, and wherever she went, she left a trail of amnesia. I assumed there were more people with dead nerve endings like Perla, but I didn’t ask each person if they could achieve an org*sm. Instead, I gathered everything I could to form a timeline and then gathered whatever leads there were about where she would have gone. There were never any leads. The blue-haired woman was thorough. She’d appeared in the city a little less than a year ago. She hit the clinic early on, but also hit several different public records facilities, libraries, and adoption agencies. I guessed she was looking for Synapse, but I don’t know why. Sure, they both have blue hair, but so did half of the arts district. I guess she must have found some decisive piece of information, because after a few months ago, she went dark. The next time she appeared on my timeline was when we captured Hauzer.

It looked like no one was home when I got back to the Borealis. I assumed Io had them at some photo opp or some flashy party she knew I would want to skip. Besides, you want to take the pretty supers to the cameras, not the one that reminded people that we were mortal, that showed them the cost of our powers. I knew I wasn’t the only one that paid a price, but I wore it publicly. I had to practically blackmail women like Perla to f*ck me.

And that’s all the self-pity you get for today, I thought to myself as I slipped through our security measures. If Io wasn’t here, maybe I could get on her computer. Sure, she protected everything like a fiend, but since my experimentation with Perla, I wondered what else I could slip between. Maybe the Gray was more like moving through molecular structures. Maybe I was more intangible than shadow based. I wasn’t sure, but I could always mess around and lie later saying I was trying to bootleg some anime. Io tended to roll her eyes and walk away whenever I brought up all things Japanese animation.

“Yes. Please. One more,” someone said down the hallway. I froze. No one was supposed to be home. But more importantly, whoever they were shouldn’t be quite so turned on. Even more importantly was that it sounded vaguely accented. French maybe.

Bastille?

There was a flash of light and a flicker of heat from a room further down. Hot like a supernova, like the goddamn sun just exploded in someone’s bedroom.

Surya.

I licked my lips and smiled. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a boring night.

Probably wouldn’t be productive either.

***

Synapse

A domme didn’t experience pleasure in the same way a sub does. That of course made perfect sense. The domme wasn’t being whipped or beaten. She didn’t have her nipples twisted or a co*ck rammed down her throat.

But that’s not what I meant.

I meant that a domme rarely experienced physical pleasure during a session. These ladies were professionals, and they weren’t looking to cum with each session. Most of this was purely transactional. But when they did feel pleasure from their work, it wasn’t a tongue against their cl*t or a mouth on their nipple. It wasn’t a dild* inside of them or their g-spot worked just right. It was the look of a sub when she begged to be whipped again. It was the pathetic squirm when a sub wriggled helplessly against her straps. It was the rolled back eyes when a sub was spanked and roared in pain that turned to a moan. It was the wanton abandon when they covered a strap-on with their spit and deepthroated it heartily. It was when they begged for denial. When they clamored for pain.

A domme’s pleasure was psychological.

Perhaps that was what drew me to Pull on Lin and hijack her emotions. It wasn’t in her body that I wanted to be; it was in her mind. Maybe that was natural to me — someone from Neoros. Maybe we were most at home in someone’s brain when the body became the puppet we dangled. Maybe that was awful and gross to think of people that way.

But that was the way Lin saw things.

Dommes created a scene. They orchestrated a session. To them, subs were players on their stage, puppets with strings they pulled. The nipples were another string to pull — to get obedience. Everything was a string to them. Deny an org*sm to get a behavior. Positively reinforce the behaviors you wanted to get them to keep doing it. If they were good, they could cum. If they were bad, they got the crop. Soma said that in the early days of her time on Earth, she was delighted to find a dominatrix named Lady Lorelei in a different city. The good people of Neoros play with power exchanges, pain, consent, and bondage, but for them it was more about conquering another mind. Here, Lady Lorelei explained to Soma that it was part of play for humans. It was a fantasy created for them, a bit of taboo.

For who would ever truly want to be a sex slave?

But from that, Soma had a burning hypothesis for how she could conquer the planet. Humans were unfortunately simple animals. They were hairless and sophisticated apes compared to the other species across the universe. If their true brain was between their legs, then how much encouragement would they need before they begged to have a fantasy become a reality? They would beg to be slaves as long as Soma kept the pleasure flowing. Hell, she could keep the pain going if she trained them correctly. They would thank her for it. Thank her for denial. Thank her for bondage. Thank her for their collars.

But not Soma. It was me they’d be thanking in the end.

A sharp cry from Maggie stirred me from my fantasy. I didn’t hear it — I couldn’t hear anything. But her mind cut through the haze of my lust as Lin kept hitting the same spot. She was done teasing and flirting. Now was the time for pain. She struck the same sore spot again, and once more Maggie’s cry rippled through all of our minds. It was beautiful. She hated it. It was, after all, pain. Adrenaline rushed through her system. She was panicked. She was bound and trapped. She was an animal about to be devoured. But instead of building her anger and preparing for a fight, Maggie’s natural submissive tendency put her metaphorical tail between her legs. She couldn’t fight or flee, so she yielded and broke. That was where the lust came from. She was truly helpless. The pain would only stop when Lin wanted it to. It would only stop when it no longer amused her domme.

I felt a wave of cool air run over my legs. I kicked them in the wet chamber, wishing I could reach between my legs. It was so warm there, so wet. Maggie’s pain was beautiful. She had moved past desperation and despair. She had succumbed to her helplessness and embraced the dark. She would let it have its way with her — let Lin have her way with her — let me have my way with her. It was as though she had died and nothing could hurt her anymore. She was a corpse, and corpses had no opinions. They let their conquerors ride through the city streets and take whatever treasures they wanted.

I imagined myself in the alternate timeline Soma always talked about. Was I supposed to ride through the streets of New York or London while the masses — all naked but for their collars — bowed to me. I could feel their lust radiate off them. It was almost as pungent as their desire to please, to serve, to obey. I wouldn’t be a queen. Queens use law and force to control their masses. I would be a goddess. They would control themselves all for a chance at my attention — hell, even my apathy would be a sign of my divinity for them. For a true goddess wouldn’t have time for Gretchen or Maggie. They would serve, and I would ignore them while they squirmed and rubbed the pathetic flesh between their legs, thankful to be so beautifully ignored, to be so wonderfully pathetic and low.

To be dead, in a way.

Months ago, I could never have fathomed this. But I had been a quick study. I’d learned more from Lin than Soma. Lin with the crop tight in her hand. Lin, licking her lips at the sight of red bursting over Maggie’s skin. Lin striking the same spot. Lin suppressing little moans when Maggie cried out. Lin pulling Maggie’s stupid f*cking mouth to her puss*. Lin holding Maggie’s hair tight, twisting it to make the woman cry out. Lin holding Maggie still, forcing her to drown in puss* as the water from the deprivation chamber washed over her.

I ground my hips. God, it was so hot. No. f*ck. That wasn’t it. Hot was for p*rn. Hot was for cheap lovers and cheaper words. Hot was something else. Was it erotic? Absolutely. But it was deeper than that. It was deeper even than the primacy of sex and f*cking. Humans had been doing it since the dawn of time, but I wasn’t human. I felt it. Humans wanted to f*ck to feel pleasure, to reproduce, to survive their cold and dying world.

But I was from Neoros.

I broke the straps holding me still and grabbed Maggie’s hair. I pressed her deeply against my puss* as I freed the other hand and took off my blindfold. The lights of the warehouse blinded me, but I knew the scene without seeing. I was floating in the deprivation chamber while Maggie was between my legs. Behind her, Lin kept striking her with the whip, driving her deeper, practically destroying her. Maggie was just a husk, serving as we saw fit. It was hot, but I wanted more.

I wanted to conquer.

I reached out to Lin’s mind and seized it. Before, I was a fly sitting on the wall, watching their emotions and Pulling on them. Now I was Pushing. Lin was going to be my puppet, my sub. I’d break her too, but not to be low like Maggie. No. Lin was a predator like me, but I was higher up the food chain. I wanted her hunger, her sadism. She wouldn’t lick my puss* like Maggie, but she would whip the spots I commanded. She would get the nipple clamps out of her bag — god, I wanted nipple clamps on these bitches immediately. She would humiliate Maggie, too. I don’t know why she was so silent when she tormented her subs. I wanted her to talk, to tell them how pathetic and low they were. God, Lin was good, but she could be so much better. She could be perfect. They all could be perfect.

All they had to do was listen to me.

I arched my back and quivered as the first of many org*sms that night thundered through my body. Soma didn’t have to strap me down. She didn’t have to bribe me. I wasn’t going anywhere, not until I could do this to anyone. Not until I was riding through the streets with my thralls adoring me like Maggie.

I had so much to learn.

***

Eidolon

I followed the flashes of light down the hallway, letting my feet slip into the Gray to keep my steps silent. As I approached, I heard someone grunting before each flash of light, but after each flash came a not so subtle moan.

“Hotter,” Bastille said. Her accent got thicker when she was turned on. I wondered how thick it got when the blue-haired woman had her under her control. “f*ck, hotter.”

There was a pause. “I don’t want to —”

“I don’t care. Do it. Please.”

“Your skin,” said the other voice — definitely Surya. “How will we explain —”

“It’ll heal. Please. Please. I need it. I’m close. I’m so close.”

“But Io will notice. f*ck, she can probably read the feeds and —” Surya gasped as the room was filled with a slurping sound. Warmth spread over my body as I recognized the sounds. I slipped around the corner and was greeted with a sight I don’t think I could have dared to imagine.

Bastille was on her knees, mouth between Surya’s legs. Surya’s pants were torn but still clinging to her body while providing no modesty. Her suit was resistant to the heat of her powers, but Bastille’s wasn’t. The huge french woman was naked and covered in burns. Actual burns. I’d never seen Bastille so much as bruise before. I didn’t think it was possible to burn her, but apparently it just took the heat of the sun.

Immovable object meet unstoppable force.

“Oh f*ck,” Surya sighed. She staggered backwards and hit the wall. Bastille followed on her knees, trying to never separate her mouth and tongue from Surya’s puss*.

I wondered if this was the first time they’d f*cked like this since the blue-haired woman. I imagined them often waiting until the Borealis was empty so they could meet up. I imagined the first time it was riddled with shame. Bastille needed it, though she didn’t know why or how. She went to Surya and begged her to use her powers on her a bit. But Surya was practical and wrapped in her own shame. She didn’t want to relive what happened with the blue-haired woman, no matter how good it felt. Besides, that wasn’t her. She was under the blue-haired woman’s control.

Right?

I had battled the same lie. It was a comfort to think that I was helpless to the whims of the blue-haired woman, but it wasn’t true. The truth was that I stood in the darkness and watched. I soaked my legs with my eager juices as a lust I’d never known in my entire life took over. It was like I had lived my whole life straight and repressed only to discover how wonderfully gay I was. Except for me, it was the angry sad*st lurking beneath the surface, the darkness that wanted to bend Io over her computers and break her.

And for Bastille, it was apparently a mirrored image of my sadism.

The french woman broke away and went back to whimpering and pleading. Surya tried to step closer to Bastille’s lips. The curvy and beautiful Indian woman wanted to cum on her teammate’s face. But Bastille backed up.

“Please.” Bastille’s hand was between her legs, making furious circles against her cl*t. It reminded me of Perla trying to make her useless c*nt work all on her own. “I’m so close,” Bastille said.

Surya didn’t hesitate this time. She was on the edge. The lust made her stupid and cruel. She held out her hand, and I closed my eyes as the power of the sun flooded the room. Warmth washed over me and I slid out of the room, afraid of what would happen without the shadows to protect me. But while her skin burned and the pain lanced through Bastille’s body, the French woman moaned. She collapsed backwards and kept working, thrusting her hips in the air as she slid two fingers inside her puss*, pumping wildly.

“Again,” she whined. “Please. So close.”

Surya moved quickly, climbing on top of Bastille’s face and queening the invulnerable woman. Bastille’s mouth went to work as she understood the arrangement immediately. Surya would provide the pain, and Bastille would provide the pleasure. As long as Bastille licked, Surya would burn her and feed the new masoch*stic urges.

My hand went between my legs. f*ck, I was soaked. I tried to imagine being Bastille, being immune to everything her whole life. Had she ever felt pain before? Had she felt much pleasure? Or was her skin dead and numb until she met someone strong enough? Maybe the blue-haired woman had done the opposite to Bastille that she’d done for Perla. Maybe she woke Bastille up.

Whatever the case, Bastille now knew that pain meant pleasure, and only Surya was strong enough to hurt her. I’d stalked everyone enough to know Surya was gay — f*ck, she was gayer than Kori — but Bastille was straight. But when the only person in the world strong enough to hurt you was a woman, I guess you couldn’t be picky.

“Deeper,” Surya growled as she ground her hips against Bastille’s face. “You cum when I do.” White heat coated her fingers as she leaned forward and played with Bastille’s tit*. I don’t know if she burned them, but her power was enough to conquer Bastille’s defenses. The blonde french woman thrashed wildly. She was close.

God, we were all so close.

I closed my eyes as I heard them both moan and succumb to their pleasure. For them, this was the end. They could meet in secret and f*ck each other stupid. Bastille could keep the shame from her masochism and reluctant lesbianism while Surya coped with hurting her friend just to cum. That was today’s problem.

But I imagined tomorrow’s problems.

The blue-haired woman had shown me the light. Perla had been my training ground, but she was useless to me. Surya and Bastille were next. Io after that. I could imagine a world of supers enslaved to their lusts like me, hungry and horny and dark. All of us in the Gray, f*cking our darkness. In there, everyone would be in collars, all stupid and useless flesh suits only good for f*cking. They would serve. They all would.

For in the Gray, I was queen.

Chapter 10: Limbic Cortex

Chapter Text

Synapse

“No drugs this time,” Soma said. “No restraints.” I sighed with relief as the straps of my table were released. “And no sensory deprivation.” Soma pulled away the blindfold, and I squinted against the bright light. We weren’t in the warehouse anymore. I’d been moved. Now we were in what looked like an upscale penthouse apartment owned by some billionaire downtown.

“Where are we?” I asked, rubbing my wrists and then my eyes.

“No questions, either.” Soma stepped in front of me. She was in her classic biker outfit of leather pants and black bomber jacket. She still had no top on, and today she also had no bra, letting her jacket be the only thing that covered her. Her cobalt blue hair — our species resemblance, I guess — was in a high and tight ponytail, and her lips were colored a dark blue with what looked like glitter. She looked more regal and more alien than I’d seen her before, and my mouth went dry as my eyes roamed over the curves and lines of her body. She didn’t flinch under my gaze. I sensed her skin warm as she knew I was drinking her in, as she enjoyed my enjoyment of her.

“Today, you follow your instincts. I think you’re ready, but I’ll only know if I test you.” Her blue lips smirked in amusem*nt. “If I trust you.”

“Everything’s ready,” Gretchen said from behind me. She was still in her white lab coat with her curly strawberry-blonde hair in a disarray that almost looked intentional. She wore tight skinny jeans and a white button-up with a cobalt blue tie to match her Mistress.

“So what’s the game today?” I asked.

“No game,” Soma said. “We’re going to let you out and see what you do.”

“Out out?”

Soma’s smirk returned. “Just this penthouse. You’re welcome to try to leave, but if you do, I’ll hunt you down and —”

“Kill me. Got it.”

“Continue your training.” Soma stepped closer to me. Chills ran over my body, but they weren’t from fear. Not exactly. “On our planet, we don’t waste anything. Especially one of our conquerors.”

“Oh, right.”

There was movement behind me, and Soma looked up at it. She walked away to deal with it, and Gretchen began working on taking my vitals. “Don’t worry,” she said to me with a smile. “You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, ‘cause ‘pass this test or you go back to the deprivation chamber’ sounds like real low-stakes to me.”

“Has your training been so unpleasurable?” Gretchen asked. I looked into her eyes, past her thick and circular glasses that seemed to take up half her face. She blushed and looked away from me.

Without thinking, I reached out with my power and tasted some of her embarrassment. No. That wasn’t the word. It was something like embarrassment and something like shame, but in Gretchen’s body it was arousal. Yes. I reached out to it without thinking, wanting to fan the flame into something larger and see what I could get her to do with a little —

The shields around her mind snapped into place, but not before Gretchen let out a little gasp and looked up at me with shock and surprise.

“Now, now,” Soma said as she approached me. “Only approved toys for playing.” She walked in front of me with two gorgeous redheaded women in scandalously short black dresses that showed plenty of cleavage and thigh. “Like these,” Soma said. She gestured to the two girls — no, twins — “allow me to introduce Krystal and Crystelle. Though the human convention of keeping twins dressed similarly and in matching clothes will never cease to astound me. Why wouldn’t you want to differentiate yourselves?”

One woman giggled and waved, while the other gave a polite wave. They weren’t nearly as nervous as they ought to be, though I assumed they were professionals like all the people Soma had brought in for my training. At first I had assumed that implied some level of ethics on Soma’s part. But now I knew it was for control. It was one less thing she had to tie up or worry about, allowing her to focus entirely on me.

Speaking of which, my boring white bra and panties were feeling incredibly lame amongst the beautiful women. Even Gretchen had some kind of sexy nerd chic I had to appreciate.

“You can get dressed in the other room,” Soma said as my thoughts were obvious to her. “I’ll get these girls some drinks, and Gretchen will finish checking your vitals for a baseline.”

“Is this, like, an experiment?” Krystal (or Crystelle) said.

“Something like that,” Soma said as she led the girls to another room.

Gretchen placed a cold stethoscope against my chest, and I gasped in shock. She giggled at me, then pulled the stethoscope away and breathed on it dramatically to heat it up. “Sorry,” she said. “I never had much bedside manner.”

“You’ve been plenty accommodating,” I said.

Gretchen blushed. “You’re my first alien patient.”

Something stirred in me. I didn’t know what it was, but it was something like hunger. And something like cruelty. And something like lust. All at once, it was like I was back with Carly — the best friend and girlfriend that never was — but I didn’t have to simply burn next to her anymore. I wasn’t confused about what I wanted, and I knew Gretchen would give it if I asked her. If she didn’t have the shields, I wouldn’t even have to go through the embarrassment and potential rejection of asking.

I could take.

And that was what stirred inside me: the thrill of taking.

“But not your first alien,” I said.

Gretchen blushed deeper this time and covered her face with her hands, letting her stethoscope fall and slap lightly against her chest. “Oh my god, that was so cheesy,” she said.

I laughed, but I wasn’t embarrassed. The warmth of my thrill was too strong to let me back down now. It was like a strong wine running through my veins, and I was a lightweight.

“But not wrong,” I said. I don’t know where my voice found the confidence or strength, but there was a stillness in me I had never known. Perhaps after spending so much time in the bodies and minds of dommes and submissives, I knew what to say, what strings to pull on. Or perhaps after watching people f*ck and riding in their thrills and delights, some part of my shame had died to never return. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the casualness with which I cupped Gretchen’s chin and pulled her eyes up to gaze into mine.

“Am I?” I said.

Gretchen tried to shake her head and pull away. My firm was tight. She wasn’t going anywhere. And honestly, I don’t think she was really trying. Her heart wasn’t in it.

“Am I?” I repeated.

“No,” Gretchen said. “Not my first.”

I released her chin and ran my hand over her cheek and up to her temple. “I can’t get in here,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t get inside of you.”

Her lips parted for an inaudible moan. My body was practically vibrating with the thrill of taking. I didn’t have to use an ounce of my power to know what she wanted and what I could get from her. I knew what to say next to get her to arch her head back and ease into my touch. I knew what to do with my other hand. I knew what her body wanted before she did. They were somehow all so similar, all so easy to play with.

Humans.

The thought was strange in my mind. But it settled in nicely. After all, I’d never felt comfortable in their presence. I was shy and nervous. I made them uncomfortable with my powers, and they scared me with their opinions. My parents told me God judged us, but they told me God was in everyone. That meant anyone was my creator and judge. Kori. Eidolon. Io. Bastille. Surya. Gretchen. All of them. It didn’t matter if they were a civilian, the world’s greatest hero, or a pure-of-heart saint. They held my value in their eyes, and it felt safer to retreat like Eidolon and hide in the shadows.

But Soma had shown me how simple they were. They followed pleasure and ran from pain. They wanted acceptance. They chased a vain notion of glory and the lie that glory granted some form of immortality. They were little better than cattle. Gretchen was a whor* for Soma because it felt good, because she finally felt seen, because she finally felt like she belonged somewhere. I could give that to her just as easily. All I had to do to take her away was take away the fear that radiated from her around Soma. I could be a benevolent goddess whereas Soma was dark and terrifying. I could be just as confident and demanding — take just as much from this human — but I didn’t have to hurt her the way Soma did.

“She likes the pain,” Soma said. Gretchen squeaked, and I pulled my hand away from her face as Soma walked into our presence. Gretchen’s cheeks burned red as she pretended to be busy checking my vitals. “The girls are ready. Are you?”

“I need clothes,” I said. I wasn’t embarrassed by Soma catching me.

“Good,” Soma said in both word and thought. “I’d thought you’d never ask.”

Is this some lesson about the clothes making the girl? I thought.

You’re seeing them for what they really are, Soma thought back.

“I don’t want her,” I said, switching back for Gretchen’s sake. “Keep your toy.”

“And what do you want?”

I looked over Soma. I never cared for the leather look. It felt like someone deliberately trying to be tough and intimidate people. Though Soma probably didn’t know that when she arrived on the planet. She wasn’t aware of our tropes. No. She probably did it because —

“It feels good,” Soma said, running her fingertips over her jacket and letting them dance over her tight stomach and flirt with the edges of her breasts. “Humans are good for some things, apparently. So far, I’ve found leather and pizza to be their great contributions to the universe.”

So what if I didn’t care for any tropes? What if I wanted what made me feel good? That’s it. Just for my pleasure, the way it sits on my skin, and the way I feel in a room in that look. What would I want? Lace lingerie, stockings, and garters? No. Leather? No. Latex? No. Well, I always liked lace. It’s a bit stereotypical, and I don’t want the classic look. I think —

“Black lace. And a dress, tight and fitting to my form. Cleavage. And a slit on the skirt all the way up.” I nodded to myself, picturing how I would look walking into a room, imagining how the most expensive lace would feel on my skin. “Yes,” I said. “Lace.”

***

Krystal

“We’re ready for you now,” the mousy little librarian chick said to us before closing the door behind her.

I stood up but C was taking her time. We’d been offered champagne, and I passed because it’s like 10 AM and my sponsor would kill me. But C was deep into her fourth flute and well on her way to needing her own sponsor soon.

“God, I miss champagne,” I said.

C grabbed another flute and offered it to me while downing the first. “Here.”

Every part of my being wanted to take that glass. Like, I could feel the electric currents of my soul aching for that glass. But three years in seven different rehab facilities taught me how to center myself, how to graciously say ‘no’ to my sister who was an idiot for even offering. Besides, I had to get home to my wife and kid after this. I could never look Gwen in the eye after getting wasted with a client ‘cause even one sip wouldn’t be enough. If I started, I wouldn’t stop, and I’d put C’s budding alcoholism to shame.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. For Gwen, I thought.

C looked properly embarrassed. “Sorry, bad joke,” she said.

“Yeah. Bad.”

The door opened again, and the hot domme in leather stood in front of us. “Before you go in there, I want to remind you of the rules.”

“Yeah, yeah,” C said. “Nothing we don’t want to do.” She stumbled forward and some of her champagne splashed out of the flute. She solved that problem by quicking downing the rest. She should really have had breakfast before we came here. It is the most important meal of the day after all.

“I don’t care if she asks for it or demands it,” Soma said. “I’m paying you.”

“Right,” I said, taking a deep breath. This bitch didn’t just want me to f*ck my sister for money, she wanted me to want to f*ck my sister. Had she met C?

The leather-girl slowly turned her gaze on me and arched an eyebrow. I shivered under her gaze and waited for some reprimand. People loved to hire prostitutes to feel powerful. I mean, they could get the pleasure from a good toy and the gentle loving of their right hand. But a woman to give that pleasure to? A woman to boss around? Twins to force to f*ck each other for your amusem*nt? That’s a power trip, not a pleasure trip.

Leather-girl smirked. “You’re perfect for this,” she said. “But there’s just one thing.” She stepped towards me and grabbed my little black dress by the neckline. I flinched and stepped back, but she wasn’t bothered by that. She jerked her hands apart and ripped the front of my dress until the neckline was down to my navel.

“Hey!” I snapped.

“Woah, bitch,” C said, stumbling forward to my aid.

Soma looked up at her, and C froze in tracks. Slowly, she turned her face to mine, and I suppressed a second shiver. “Take off your bra. I want her to be able to tell you apart.” She pointed to C. “Take your hair down. Then come out and sit around, doing only what you feel like doing.”

“Can we leave?” C asked as she undid her hair and let it cascade down her back. Mine was still up in its bun with two perfectly curled strands hanging over my ears which took way too long to perfect this morning. I felt bad that C’s work to style her hair to match was being undone, but that was the way of this work.

Power before pleasure.

“Of course,” the stranger said. “After fifteen minutes with my friend, if you want to leave, if you feel like leaving, you may go.”

“Sweet,” C said. “Then give us a minute and we’ll be right there.”

“Good.”

The woman turned around and stepped out of the bathroom, refusing to close the door behind her. I closed it, and turned to the mirror, looking at the damage to my dress. We were both wearing simple LBDs that hugged our collarbones and barely covered our puss*es. Now my dress was barely clinging to my body, as a thin rip went from my collarbone down to my navel.

“Gwen is going to kill me,” I said as I fussed with it. C stepped behind me and peeled down the dress to get access to the clasps in the back. “She loved this dress.”

“With this job you could buy twelve of these dresses.”

“We had our first date in this dress.” And our first date after rehab finally stuck. Gwen wanted to show me I could have fun with her without booze. I wanted to show her I was sexy without booze. We were both right.

“Then we can pay a really f*cking good tailor to fix it.”

“Fine,” I said. “But I have no idea how it will stay up.”

“Skin tape,” C said. “I have some in my bag.”

“You’re a goddess,” I said.

“I want you to say that later when we’re —”

“Shut the f*ck up,” I said through laughter though I was blushing. I was never comfortable with the twin gig, but I could only do this with C standing beside me. I was an angry drunk, and after a few DUIs, I upgraded to some bar fights and aggravated assaults. I keyed a girlfriend’s car, and allegedly scared another ex into thinking I was going to set her apartment on fire. Her apartment did catch fire, but I didn’t do it. Though few judges agreed. Enough charges on my record meant it was a bitch to find real work, and when Gwen got laid off, I said I would take care of her and our daughters. That’s when I approached C to look for call-girl work. She suggested the twin thing as a way to help show me the ropes. I was repulsed, but she insisted it was like acting on stage or maybe masturbating. We weren’t f*cking, we were putting on a show. Yet she got drunk for each job, and I had to f*ck my sister with and in front of strangers while sober.

I hated it.

“There,” C said after taping the dress to my skin so it still hugged my body despite the tear. “Look good?”

“Yeah,” I lied. “Looks good.”

In fact, C did look good. Even with her hair down and almost reaching her butt, the LBD hugged her curves. The emerald we wore at our neck highlighted our green eyes. The slight lines under her skin showed she was someone who took care of her body, which she did. She dragged me to morning runs every day at 5 AM claiming it was job insurance and the only way she knew how to get rid of a hangover. She looked like a high class prostitute.

Me?

I looked like a whor*.

There was a slight knock on the door. “It’s time,” said a voice I assumed was the nervous cutey.

“Showtime,” C said.

“Break a leg,” I said to her reflection.

“As long as it's yours,” she said, continuing our mantra.

“What’s yours is mine,” I said.

“Then help me f*ck myself,” she said, finishing the joke. I smiled, relaxing into the moment as we stepped out of the bathroom and into the penthouse apartment. I expected the scientist girl to be waiting for us, but there was no sign of her. As we stepped through the hallway, there was some soft muzak playing in what amounted to the living room — though in my experience few people really lived in their penthouse apartment. Maybe we should call it the den? I dunno. Rich people are weird.

I looked for any sign of leather girl, but there was nothing. Instead there was the first girl — the one we had seen in white panties and bra on a hospital bed when we came in. Except she was nothing like that now. She was still slight and thin. She was waifish in an elegant way, and that elegance was only heightened in the stunner of a dress she was wearing as she stood by the bar, waiting for us. It had a high neckline, going up to her ears, but there was a cut out of her small but perky and round tit* that gave a great hint of cleavage and showed she was as braless as me. The dress was long-sleeved, made entirely of layered dark lace that covered her skin but gave scandalous peeks of flesh. The lace could have been black and looked dark blue next to her cobalt blue hair that was short and had slight and effortless waves to it despite the length. She had huge diamond encrusted sapphire earrings in and a matching ring on her right hand. And all of that was beautiful and jaw-dropping, but it was nothing compared to the slit that went all the way up to her waist on the left side. The skirt went to the floor and hugged black stilettos. But it was the slit that made C gasp next to me and even dried my mouth a bit. The girl had seriously great legs.

“Thank you,” the stranger said.

She smiled, and warmth spread over my body, radiating from my chest like the perfect cup of hot chocolate after a long day in the cold. It’s true that most clients were men who wanted to live out their twin fantasy, and I felt my body instantly responding to the chance to perform for a woman.

“With a woman, I’d hope,” said the stranger.

“What are you talking about?” C asked. She stepped towards our host and received a drink from the beautiful woman in the lace dress. C stopped and looked at the Old Fashioned offered to her. “How did you know how I take it?”

The woman ignored her and kept her eyes fixed on me. “You tell me,” her voice filled my head but her mouth didn’t move.

“How?” I asked.

She smirked and shook her head slightly. Then she lifted a manicured hand — nails black and pointed (my skin tingled at the thought of them running over my back, running over my … everywhere) — and tapped her forehead. “In here,” her voice said again while her lips remained still.

“How?” I thought.

“Good girl,” she thought back at me, and I shivered. Tingles spread all over my spine, up the back of my neck, and over my scalp, making it feel as though it was shrinking into a good scratch.

“You can read minds,” I thought.

“Very good girl,” she thought back. She arched an eyebrow and took a slow sip of her drink. “If you want privacy from C, just think real hard. That’ll keep it between us.” She winked, and my knees softened. I found it strange that she knew I called Crystelle C, but nothing like paranoia or fear bubbled up at the situation. It should have. I wanted it to. In any other situation, if we were f*cking a super, I’d get C out of here and —

“You’ll forgive me for not making you one, Krystal,” the woman said. “I didn’t want to make you refuse it.”

I nodded. Something was off. The agency never said we were meeting with a super. And I didn’t like the way this woman was looking at me. But I couldn’t build the panic to do no anything. That warm feeling — like a buttered rum on a cold winter night — spread through my body. I felt my cheeks flush like I was two shots too deep, and my vision even began to blur slightly. But I hadn’t had anything to drink. How? I was stone cold sober, and —

“I’m Synapse,” the woman said. “So you can both stop thinking of me as ‘the client’ or ‘the Jane’ or ‘that woman.’ “She turned and stared C down, “or ‘that f*cking hot woman.’” C blushed and finished off her drink. In one smooth motion, Synapse took the drink from C and replaced it with another.

“You’re in Aurora Flight, right?” C asked. “Gosh, I grew up obsessed with you all. I think I had a crush on Bastille for like ever. She’s probably responsible for my sexual awakening.”

Synapse laughed. “Bastille, huh? It was Kori that did it for me.” She took a slow sip of her drink.

“Korporeal? Did you two ever?”

“Not yet.” Synapse put down her drink. “But I think soon.”

“Oh really?” C asked, stepping next to Synapse as though they were new best friends. “I haven’t heard anything about it.”

“Is she always this vapid?” Synapse thought at me. I laughed, and C looked at me, concerned.

“Nothing,” I said with a wave of my hand. “A funny thought.”

“Yeah, she’s not the brains of the operation,” I thought, and then suddenly a wave of … something washed over me. I staggered forward as though I lost balance on my heels, and Synapse was there in a moment, reaching out to catch me. She grabbed my forearm, and the wave washed over me again, radiating from her hand. Everything went white as it felt like warm bubbles were released in my brain and surged down through my body. Down my over my tit* and my stomach down down down between my legs and —

I moaned.

“Oh, sh*t,” C said as she clicked over to me. But Synapse was still, holding my forearm as overwhelming pleasure radiated from her touch. It was like the opposite of novacaine. Someone had turned on my skin and set the sensitivity too high. I staggered back, but Synapse left her hand there. It slid down my forearm to my hand, and I moaned again as it felt like a feather tickling my nipple, but it was just her touch.

“Imagine what I could do if I was trying,” Synapse thought.

Pictures flooded my mind of Synapse’s soft lips kissing me, of them pressed against my breasts, of her tongue flicking my hard nipples, of her head between my legs, of her tongue slithering deep inside me. Of me blacking out from pleasure.

“Almost better than a strong drink,” Synapse thought. “Though imagine what I could do to any alcohol in your system.”

The thought was sobering, and I found my footing and pulled my hand away. “I don’t drink.”

“Let me help you sit down,” Synapse said, ignoring my last thought. She reached for my hand again, but I didn’t let her have it. Instead, I let C grab my hand and take me to a plush leather armchair.

“What’s wrong?” C asked.

“God, she’s always so clueless,” Synapse thought. “It’s exhausting.”

“Nothing,” I said.

“Do you want some water?” C said.

“Or something stronger?” Synapse offered.

“Or juice?” C asked.

“Have you noticed everything with her is a question?”

“I … um …” I held my forehead and tried to still my body. The tingles were still roaming up and down my body in little pulses, like waves rippling back and forth over my skin. It wasn’t unpleasant — quite the opposite — but I felt my control slipping. And the constant badgering from C and Synapse was overwhelming.

“Do you think I’m talking to her in her mind?” Synapse asked.

I shook my head to both of them. “I just need a minute,” I said.

“Because there isn’t much going on in there. Like, nothing.”

Synapse was right about one thing.

“Just one thing?”

I wanted a drink. No. Not me. My body wanted a drink. My addiction wanted a drink. Years of dependency and self-destruction wanted a drink. I went through my mantras that my sponsor had taught me, thinking over and over, “I choose to be sober today.” I conjured images of me stumbling home in dark alleys blocks away from my car or apartment or friends. I summoned all the times I woke in a stranger’s home including — I shuddered at the thought — the guys who took me home even though I — even though —

“A sobering memory,” Synapse said. I looked up to see her standing over me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I —” I wanted to feel anger, but it was true she didn’t know. She may have picked up on my urge to drink and me suppressing that urge. But she couldn’t know how it destroyed me. How one drink could rip apart my marriage and make me lose my daughter.

“I’m so sorry,” Synapse’s hand reached out to me. Again, the warm chocolate-y feeling radiated from her touch. She sat next to me, and C sat on the other side. But when my twin took my hand, the same eruption of pleasant calm spread over my body. I felt the tension and trauma rush out of my body as I sank back into the leather chair, exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” I said to both of them. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me today.”

“Hey,” C said as she stroked my hand. The melting feeling was re-ignited and stoked with each brush of her skin on mind. Tingles erupted over me, but not the sort that accompanied arousal or panic. It was the kind of tingles that lulled you to sleep, that put everything at ease. “It’s okay,” C said. “I got you. I —” C looked up at Synapse. The telepathic super nodded at her.

Funny, I had forgotten that we were on a job. Somehow it was turning into a random therapy session after Synapse had — Synapse had —

“Shhh,” Synapse said. She sat on my other side. “I’m sorry about the alcohol. It’s a trigger for you, and —”

“Yeah, that was totally my bad,” C added. “Sorry, hun.”

Synapse took my other hand and started stroking it. I was too rattled to fight it as both women sat on either side of me, stroking my hand and whispering sweet nothings. Each time I tried to talk — mostly to apologize — they shushed me again and kept stroking my hand, keeping me still, centering me, bringing me back to my body.

“You choose to be sober today,” Synapse thought at me.

“I choose to be sober today,” I echoed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” C said. “You choose to be sober.”

A tear rolled down my face. I was close. So f*cking close. That would have been a disaster. More than a disaster. It wouldn’t be just falling back down the hole I’ve been trying to crawl out of for five years. It would be blowing up that hole and everything around it. There would be no escape out of it this time. Gwen would never forgive me and —

A tear rolled down my cheek, but C was quick to wipe it away. Her hand lingered on my face, holding my cheek. The strange and soothing pulse of her touch was still there, washing over me. My face relaxed, and I felt it reaching deep into my mind.

“Everything is going to be okay,” C said. “I’m here. We’re here.”

I closed my eyes, trying to lean into the soothing sensation of their voices and their touch, fighting the feeling of vertigo as I stood on the cliff of everything I loved.

“Sister is here,” C said. “She’s going to take good care of you.”

I nodded but kept my eyes shut. C would take care of me. She always would. She may have been the more reckless and foolish one, but she always acted like the older sister when it came to taking care of me — even though I was five minutes older than her. When our parents died at a young age, she was always protecting me. Fighting for me — literally. She was the one that got me into rehab. Even when I quit in the middle of a program or relapsed, she wasn’t phased. She always found me and took me back in. No questions asked. She always took care of me, and there was no way I could pay her back.

“Sister will take care of you,” C said again.

But I want to pay her back.

I opened my eyes. C’s face was close to mine, and I knew the kiss was coming before she moved. But it didn’t matter. I wanted to pay her back. I needed to pay her back. “All these years,” I said as we broke apart from our kiss. “And I’ve never properly thanked you.”

C smiled softly. Her lips — her perfect lips — needed their match, their pair, pressed against them again. They weren’t whole without it. The thought was strange in my head, but I knew that C was empty without me.

“That’s why she always saved you. To complete herself.”

“I will always take care of you,” C said, still stroking my cheek.

The moment was heavy between us. I’d kissed her a hundred times for a dozen clients. But that was for them. That was to get them off. But Synapse faded to the background. This was between C and I. This was our complicated past. This was our wounding on display.

“Show me,” I whispered, pulling her in for another kiss. C leaned into the kiss, sighing softly as our lips danced together. I had heard her moan for clients before, and this was different. This was real. I felt her breath run all the way through my body, like it carried the same soothing touch as her hands, as her lips, as the smell of her, as the feel of her skin in my hands. All of it soothed — but especially her breath. It ran through me, and I felt the terror of my addiction fade away. For years, I’d been running from it. Not just alcohol, but the fear of alcohol. I went to parties with fists clenched knowing there might be booze there. I didn’t go to clubs. I didn’t watch sports with friends or at stadiums. It was always the fear of relapse haunting me.

But as C’s breath filled me, it all faded away.

I pulled C into my lap, thanking her between kisses, desperate for her to know how much she meant to me, for her to feel my gratitude on every inch of her skin. I held her face and the tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with our kisses. But she didn’t complain. She didn’t stop kissing me. She didn’t stop filling me with her breath and easing decades of pain.

Her hands roamed over my body, and the fuzzy warmth of her touch made each inch of my body thrum. Her fingertips danced over my hands and up my arms. I felt part of my dress move away so fingertips could roam over my shoulders. Each touch delighted me and numbed me. It took away the shock and filled me with joy. It eased me and excited me. Her fingertips on my thighs. Her fingertips between my breasts. More fingertips than one woman could have. Hands all over me, easing me. Softening me. Opening me. Hands between my legs. Hands on my breasts. Hands on my nipples. Hands inside me.

My dress was gone, and I worked to get C free of hers. We had to match. My mind was obsessed with it. When her hand went to my nipple, my hand went to hers. She was free of addiction, so I had to be free to. She was delightful and free of fear, so I should be too. She was having a drink, so I should too. She was kissing me, so I should kiss her. She loved and trusted Synapse, so I should too.

I arched my back as pleasure washed over me. Synapse was latched to my breast, enjoying my nipple with her tongue. I looked down at the blue-haired woman in awe. She truly was a super woman, beyond what we could do or understand. In a matter of minutes, she brought me and my sister closer together. She cured me of my addiction to alcohol. She showed me my real soulmate was C and not Gwen. She showed me how touch can fight back the darkness. And now she wanted me.

Synapse wanted me.

“I’m so proud of you,” Synapse thought of me.

“Thank you,” I said. “You cured me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

The soothing touch of C was gone, but I didn’t care. I had thanked C, but I needed to thank Synapse. I had so many women to thank for healing me, for accepting me as I am.

“You’re healed,” Synapse thought. “Be free of the fear.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Tears rolled down my face. “I can never thank you enough.”

Synapse pulled off my breast. “How about we celebrate first,” she said. Her eyes looked up and over, and I followed them to see C standing in front of me, offering me a drink.

“Cheers,” C said with a wide smile on her face. “I’m so proud of you.”

The fear was gone. I had nothing to worry about. I was healed. I took the drink with my smile matching C’s dopey one. We matched as we raised our glasses. We matched as we downed them at the same time, not stopping between sips. ‘One and done,’ I used to say when it came to sipping a drink. Everything was a shot, but some were sweeter than others.

The alcohol burned through my body, and its fire swallowed up the peace and contentment of my moment. The alcohol carried the fear with it, but before I could say anything, C was offering me another drink. She had her own. We had to match. Our second drink matched the first one as we downed them in one go, wasting no time and not a drop of alcohol. I even saved the small trinkle on my chin with a finger and fed it to myself before I could think better.

The second drink was like choking on the Arctic Ocean. Ice. Dread. Salt. Terror. Cold. So much cold. My skin raised as the ice gripped me. I stood up, and the room spun around me. Too fast. Too much.

“What have I done?” I said.

But neither Synapse or C responded. C was back at the bar, making another drink. Synapse sat back in her seat, watching me carefully.

“What have I done?!” I thought at her.

But she only returned silence.

C turned, holding two more drinks in her hand. A familiar war waged in my mind. I knew I shouldn’t take them — even though I had to match with C — but I wasn’t deep enough yet. I felt the alcohol blurring my vision and clouding my judgment. The room wobbled as I tried to move, but I was miserable. I felt the cold tendrils of melancholy spreading over me again, and I knew the only way to numb it was another drink. And then another. And then another. I could either be sh*t-faced or blacked out, but either would be better than sitting with what I’d done.

I took the third drink and drank it quickly, not bothering to match C. Darkness rippled through me. Rage burned on my fingertips. Rage. Cold and lethal rage was filling me.

“Gwen’s going to kill me,” I said.

But C still had that dopey smile on her face.

“Did you hear what I said?” I didn’t know why I was shouting, but it felt good. I had to let that darkness out. I had to move it somewhere. “Gwen is going to kill me!”

But C still had that stupid smile.

“I don’t know why she did that,” Synapse thought at me. “She should know better.”

“Why did you do that?” I said to C. “You should know better.”

A look of confusion washed over C’s face. Her eyes darted back and forth between Synapse and me, trying to understand what was going on.

“Jesus, she’s so f*cking stupid.”

“Jesus, you’re so f*cking stupid,” I said.

“Stupid f*cking c*nt.” I stepped closer to C, but she was stuck still with that stupid bimbo expression on her face, like she didn’t speak the same language as me, like she didn’t understand what she’d just done to me. She’d just ruined me.

“Stupid f*cking c*nt.”

“She was always the stupid one.”

“You were always the stupid one!”

The rage in my fingertips took over. I had to change her face. Her stupid f*cking face. Was she just going to smile at me while I relapsed? Was she happy?

“No. She’s proud.”

“You’re proud of what you’ve done?” I asked. But C didn’t answer. She kept grinning like a moron. I stepped closer. She had to stop smiling. She absolutely had to.

“As long as you're addicted, you need her. She’s using you. Manipulating you.”

The rage in my body took over. My hand lashed out and smashed against her face, slapping her hard. She cried out, and the darkness in my body softened immediately. It was the soothing touch once again. I felt it there, in her body, in her skin. It wasn’t her touch; I didn’t need her to touch me at all. But it was in her body. And I could have that.

“Take it.”

I could take that.

C staggered away, holding the side of her face, but I was quick. I grabbed the back of her hair and pulled it tight. Her head snapped back, and the pain drove her to her knees.

“Good.”

Good.

With another hand on her throat, I felt the softness spreading over again. The fear was fading. The rage was fading. There was only the pleasant buzz of the alcohol. The pure joy of drinking, which I hadn’t known since I was a teenager. It was back. It was back. It was back.

But C still had that stupid dopey look on her face.

“You f*cking bitch,” I said. I spat on her face. I don’t know where the urge came from, but the darkness went with it. I felt the warm fuzziness of play filling me. I spat on her again and again, adding insult after insult. I slapped her again, and her cry of pain softened my own agony.

But still she smiled like a moron at me.

“You need more time to take it out of her.”

I dropped C and let her crumple to the floor. “I guess I need more time to take it out on you,” I said. I kicked her in the ribs, and the warmth washed over me. God, it felt good. So good.

“Now get me another drink,” I commanded. And though she was slow moving, C crawled to the bar, rose to her feet, and started making me more drinks.

If she filled me with more darkness, I’d have more to share with her.

And Gwen.

***

Soma

Soma smiled as she watched the redhead with the ripped dress take her first drink, then her second, then her third. As she took her fourth, fifth, and sixth, the alcohol ran down her chin, her neck, and between her breasts. The other was quick to waste nothing, gliding her tongue from her sister’s navel to her neck. Then, following a strange new urge Soma felt Synapse put in her, the battered twin kissed her sister, giving back all the alcohol.

“Waste not, want not,” Synapse said as she moved to a chair, enjoying the show she had put in motion. The twin in the ripped dress was crying, and Synapse let her feel the weight of her regret and pain. Soma felt it rippling through the wall of the hotel room, washing over her. It was such a sharp melancholy. Soma would have cut it off if she was running things, but Synapse was almost feeding off it. It was cruel and relentless, and certainly humans would have found it psychotic.

Soma loved it.

“You wanted to know what I wanted.” Synapse voice filled Soma’s head.

“Is this not it?” Soma thought back. “I didn’t detect much reluctance on your part.”

“This is part of it, yes.”

“And the rest?”

“Send in Gretchen, and I’ll show you.”

“I’m not sending —”

“Leave her shields on. I don’t care.” Soma turned to where the camera was in the corner of the room. She raised a manicured finger, twisted it, and curled it, beckoning for another plaything to join her in the hotel room.

“I know exactly what I want now. I’ll give you a sample here, and then you and I need to start planning my coming out party.”

“Coming out?”

Synapse laughed in her chair. The twins making out with each other didn’t notice. “A human thing. I’ll explain later. Send in your pet.”

“Go in there,” Soma said.

“E-E-Excuse me?” Gretchen said.

“Go in there.” Soma turned to Gretchen and gave a wide, predatory smile. “And don’t do anything you don’t feel like doing.”

Chapter 11: Monozygotic Telepathy

Chapter Text

Synapse

At first, I couldn’t name the feeling when I knew Soma had brought me twins. Repulsion? Fear? Thrill? Horror? Hunger? Yes. All at once. Because suddenly I wasn’t just a super trapped in a villain’s lair. I wasn’t just an alien learning the difference between human cattle and myself. I wasn’t just some lost child learning she was adopted the whole time.

I was a sister.

Aching to touch my sister.

Faith, my sexual awakening. Faith, my first crush and longing. I spent hours lurking in her lust as she realized she was a lesbian, and I realized how good it felt it be in those sapphic feelings. I didn’t realize I was gay, but I knew I loved feeling what Faith felt.

I knew I wanted to play with those feelings. I knew those feelings were wrong. That was the weight that had hung around my neck and over my heart for decades: what I wanted was wrong. And it didn’t take much psychological gymnastics to quickly turn that line of thinking into one unassailable fact: I am wrong.

Because who are we if not our desires?

So I gave them just what the Bible ordered: one life of eternal servitude, sacrifice, and martyrdom. I was the good girl and stayed out of the bedroom. I may have invaded Kori’s f*cking once in a while, but my virginity was intact. I stayed in school. I used my powers to help people. I didn’t even do violence. I calmed people down. I de-escalated. I figured that maybe if I pretended to be a good girl long enough, I would want what a good girl wanted. Then it wouldn’t be a charade anymore. I could be free.

But Soma had shown me the truth of it. She had unraveled the lie that choked the life out of the core of my being. I wasn’t wrong. They were wrong. An entire people — an entire species — was lost in their ways. Violence and manipulation and greed, yes. But control. Gross and disgusting control. The control that said I could never have Faith even if Faith was begging me for it. We would produce no heirs. Because someone decided we were nothing more than our manifest destiny to procreate. f*ck. Soma was right. We weren’t evolved. We were still apes hoping to fill the universe with little copies of ourselves. Following stupid rules to order ourselves and our descendents. Control. All control.

No one was allowed to break free.

No one was allowed to step outside the shadow of Mankind.

They wanted control but they couldn’t even control themselves.

No one knew better than me.

I felt how Faith burned. How she pushed through shame and gave into lust and hunger, how her fingers slid between her legs time after time no matter how badly she wanted to stop, no matter what she wanted or what she thought about her sin and lust. She was lost to herself. Out of control. And was Kori any better? A slave to her lust. But it wasn’t just lust. I felt the stinging sharpness of Eidolon’s rage. Of Io’s ego. Of Bastille’s loneliness. All of them. All of them were enslaved. No wonder they hungered for control. But they weren’t capable of it. They were stuck with their baser instincts, their simple bodies, their monkey minds.

But there was a way out.

It was right in front of me.

I could free them.

Me.

Only me.

Why?

Because I wasn’t human.

I felt it more deeply than ever. As Kyrstal drank and drank, destroying herself and her marriage, ruining years of therapy and rehabilitation. I should have been repulsed. I should have felt remorse at having orchestrated it. But I didn’t. Would humans care about apes mistreating another ape? Would we care if one monkey was addicted to her special treats from the zookeeper? No. Not if she kept doing her trick.

And Kyrstal was performing beautifully.

“That’s right,” Kyrstal said as her hands trembled. She carefully lifted another Old Fashioned to her lips, but the shaking of her hands made it spill over the edge of her glass and down her hands, dripping on Crystelle’s face. With her free hand, Kyrstal pulled her sister’s head against her puss*. “The client wants a show,” Krystal said. “Give her a show, c*nt.”

Krystal made eye contact with me as she twisted her sister’s red hair in her free hand and pulled tight. Crystelle led out a little shriek that was quickly muffled by the slick folds of Kyrstal’s soaked puss*. The recovering alcoholic was easy to manipulate. It wasn’t difficult to make her want a drink, but lowering her resolve so that she gave in was tricky. After that, I simply heightened the effects of the alcohol on her system. I redirected her rage at herself to her sister, and one hot f*cking sad*st was born.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Krystal asked me before draining the rest of her drink. I’d had to reduce the effect of the booze on her system since she started. She was going to kill herself if she kept it up, but I didn’t want her to stop.

I was just getting started.

“Did you think about f*cking your sister when you were younger?” I asked.

The question took her aback, and she didn’t answer. But it didn’t matter. I couldn’t pick up thoughts as well as Soma, but I felt the surface reactions. It wasn’t repulsion. It was shame.

“You always knew you were a lesbian,” I said.

Krystal didn’t answer again. The only sound in the room was the slurping of Crystelle eagerly eating her sister out. After noticing a crippling cocaine addiction in the girl’s brain, I easily rewired the pathways in Crystelle’s mind. Licking Krystal’s puss* hit the same pleasure centers as cocaine, and as simple as that, Crystelle was addicted to licking her twin’s puss*.

I almost did it without thinking.

Krystal glared at me with a budding rage. I appreciated that. Deep down she knew I was to blame for knocking her off the wagon. Which was good. It was going to be so much more fun to break someone with a brain between her ears instead of some bimbo like Crystelle or Gretchen.

“You hate me,” I said without inflection. I didn’t care if two random prostitutes hated me. I didn’t care if I ruined their lives either. After all, they were only practice.

Krystal said nothing but glared, but once again I increased the sensitivity of her puss*, and in a breath she was moaning again while Crystelle did her work. I made the moans of her sister feel like vibrations rolling over Crystelle’s skin, rippling over her breasts and nipples. It was like she was hearing the moans with her tit*. It encouraged her to work faster, to enjoy her sister’s pleasure, driving her deeper into my control and making her tongue work frantically, desperately.

Impressive, Soma thought at me.

I tried not to smirk at the thought while I was holding Krsytal’s glare, though I loved the compliment. I didn’t hide my pleasure with Soma’s praise, and I’m sure my teacher picked it up. She picked everything up.

Teacher? Soma thought. That’s new.

I shrugged, both at Soma and Krystal’s glare. Are you going to send in my plaything? I thought back. “You remind me of me,” I said to Krystal.

She’s getting ready, came Soma’s thought just before Kyrstal said, “Of you?”

I rose from my seat and let the train of black lace pool around me. It was amazing how much fabric there was when it covered so little that mattered. Did I feel like Soma? No. But I imagined this must be a bit of what Kori felt like — the rich satisfaction that all eyes are on you and can’t look away. Or maybe this is what Surya felt to be the most powerful (human) woman on earth? But I was also wrapped in darkness like Eidolon. I was invulnerable like Bastille. I was calculating like Io.

I was a goddess in this f*cking dress.

Krystal staggered back as I approached, and Crystelle was quick to push her sister into a chair. Kyrstal didn’t fight it. She spread her legs and let her eyes roll back as Crystelle went to work. She wasn’t going to cum, not yet. Not until I let her. I could create pleasure while shutting down org*sm. The same was true for Cyrstelle. So though the ditzy twin was fingering herself relentlessly while she ate out her sister, she wasn’t going to cum without my permission. No one in this room would, even Gretchen when she got here. Even without my power over her.

“I always wanted to f*ck my sister when I was little,” I said as I stepped closer to the twins. I loomed over both of them in my heels, and then immediately decided I didn’t want to be without heels again. Crystelle wrapped one hand around my bare calf, and I let her anchor herself to me. She felt warmth and love, comfort and serenity ripple through her from my touch. Her licking slowed down, but her moaning intensified.

“You …” Kyrstal tried to let her disgust show on her face, but Crystelle was pushing her close to the edge. Her body wanted to cum — needed to cum — but not now. Not yet. I needed her riled up for what was next.

“Yes,” I said. “How strange to have your sister be your sexual awakening. For so long, I thought it was the smut she was devouring while hidden away in her closet. I could feel it across the house and whenever she would enjoy herself, I would hijack the feeling. I would ride along in her body and, in a way, I learned the power of a woman’s touch.” I smiled at the sweet memory. Soma had been right about everything, obviously, but I felt the sting of regret amidst the nostalgia. How different would my life had been if I knew what I was then? If I gave into my urges? If I was my full self?

That’s what —

Enough. I blocked out Soma’s intrusive thoughts. I don’t know how I did it. I imagined I would have to know how a brain from Neoros works, to know what neuron or part of the brain to shut down, to block one of her senses. Or maybe I’d need to know how to block something from being perceived. It didn’t matter. In a flash, her thoughts were gone. She could probably still sense everything going on in my body and brain, but I didn’t need her running commentary anymore.

I bent my knees and ran my hand through Crystelle’s hair. I was aware that I was a breath away from Krystal’s puss* now. Everything I’d done with women had either been being serviced or riding the physical sensations in the body. How strange to think that my fingers had never touched a puss* but my own. Everything else was entirely cerebral.

“I think it must be natural when the sisters are close in age,” I said. “My sister Faith was not even a full year older than me. I was adopted, but that meant we were practically Irish twins.”

Images of my childhood flashed through me. Of Faith getting her first training bra and running into my room to show it off. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I didn’t know what it meant. I thought I was afraid of puberty, of a growing and changing body. But it wasn’t that. It was Faith. It was the pure joy she expressed in her body and her sensual delight in what it meant. Or when I first found one of Faith’s smutty books in her closet. I took it back to my room to read in secret, but when I came to the words ‘dripping c*nt,’ I froze. I read it over and over again until I had to put the book down. I wanted to put it back in Faith’s room, but I had to wait until she was gone while I was home. Meanwhile, for days, I felt the book’s presence in the room. Not just the book, but the words: ‘dripping c*nt.’ It glowed red hot in my mind, filling the room with its power. For years I thought it disgusted me. But that wasn’t it. It woke me up. It was someone’s ‘dripping c*nt.’ I wanted to know what it felt like to have my c*nt drip, to make someone else’s c*nt drip, to taste it.

Mmmm. To taste it.

I’d come all this way, and I still hadn’t tasted my first dripping c*nt.

“Sisters are an extension of ourselves,” I said. But my mind was elsewhere. I wanted to know where Gretchen was and what was taking her so long. I half wanted Cyrstelle to move aside so that I could taste Krystal. But first I wanted to make Krystal beg for it. Not just Kyrstal. In a flash, I thought of Kori begging for it the way she begged men to f*ck her harder. Or what about hearing Io beg for it? She didn’t beg for anything. How sweet would it be to hear her haughty and condescending voice beg for me to lick her dripping c*nt.

Dripping c*nt.

“Similar genes,” I said, trying to remember where I was going with this. “And when puberty comes, our first thought is to f*ck ourselves. Is it so strange to think of f*cking someone so similar to us?”

As I spoke, the words had their effect. Krystal sank back into the chair, thrusting her puss* forward, and Crystelle worked faster. Their desperation was close to turning to anger. They couldn’t cum. As prostitutes, they rarely cared for cumming with a client. But now they ached for it. Soon they would want it more than air, more than life itself. I didn’t need them that desperate. I just wanted them to need org*sm more than the need to be decent. More than the need to be human.

“Is it that much of a stretch to wonder what would happen if our sister caught us masturbating? What if she joined us? What if we never needed to date? No one gets us like our sister.”

The words had a hypnotic effect on me too. What if Faith caught me masturbating? Would she have f*cked me? Maybe not back then. But now she would. Now she’d barely have a choice. I could increase her arousal to the point of insanity. I could haunt her dreams. I could ride her body and ruin her for anyone else. Only my touch would bring her pleasure and satisfaction. I could block out all voices but my own. I could be her entire universe. Her goddess. Yes, then she would f*ck me.

Then they would all f*ck me.

“Plus with a twin,” I said. “It’s like you’re still f*cking yourself. Don’t you feel it, Krystal? You’re licking your own puss* now. Haven’t you always wanted to do that? And she just needed a little cocaine to get her going. You can find her cocaine. Sprinkle it on your puss*. She’ll be lost in you. Addicted to you.”

Kyrstal reached out and grabbed Crystelle’s hair. She balled it into a tight fist and pulled her sister closer, harder. I didn’t prompt the anger or the lust. I set the scene, but they were following the script all on their own. A sense of lust surged through me. No. Not lust. Something I’d never felt before. Was this what Soma felt all the time? When you can cut the strings and the puppets still put on the show? The little porcelain dolls still play out their dance when the music stops.

Holy f*ck this felt better than cumming.

“And now you know, Crystelle. We both know how badly you want to f*ck your sister. You like when she’s fun. When she’s not so uptight and bitchy. When she’s not complaining about her whining wife and kid. When she’s loose and free like you. That’s when it’s like f*cking yourself, isn’t it? When she lets go and plays along as the ditzy bimbo like you? Now you know what to do. She just needs a little drink. Just one and then she’ll do the rest. You can do that, can’t you? Of course you can. Of course you can.”

Crystelle let go of my calf and let her other hand slither out of her soaked puss*. Her hands roamed up and played with Krystal’s tit*. The two stopped playing at lovers because of the craving and need I’d written into them and became lovers. It was simple. I could sense the oxytocin mingling with the dopamine in their brains. Not just pleasure but love. Love. I had done it as simple as that. To think I’d ruined both of their lives, and they loved each other for it. Hell, they’d love me for it.

Not just love.

Worship.

I moaned and staggered back from the twins. That new sense was still rolling through me. Not lust. Something new. Whatever Soma must feel when she made Hauzer, Gretchen, or Elizabeth Sanders her little bitches. She didn’t just make them slaves. She made them adoring servants. They worshiped her because she was the source of all pleasure. She could make their lives a living hell or heaven on earth. All she had to do was rewrite their brains and debauchery could be a delight, obedience could be pleasure, and etiquette could be pain.

And I had that power in me.

But these were just prostitutes. Addicts. While I loved setting the scene and watching them fall into my traps, they were nothing. What if I could make Bastille beg for me to own her? What if I could make Surya my own personal sun? She wouldn’t be a goddess anymore like all the papers called her. She would be my little nightlight, my lamp. Yes. She wouldn’t need her powers for anything more than lighting my house, my palace. And each time she did it, she would be filled with pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. One of the most powerful humans on the planet would be mine.

Because at the end of the day she was merely human.

I was something else entirely.

But I needed to practice. I needed a challenge. And as the door opened and Gretchen stepped into our orgy, I knew exactly where and how I would start. I still couldn’t sense a single sensation, though she was clearly nervous by her body posture. But that was fine. I needed practice.

I had expected her to be wearing her typical skinny jeans and basic t-shirt with her white coat, but Soma had sent her in with a surprise. White heels, garters, white lace panties, and an adorable bralette. Gretchen’s curly strawberry-blonde hair was up in a stylish and intentionally loose bun, and her oversized round glasses made her face look smaller and rounder. She looked dainty and fragile, sexy and appetizing. But her body posture didn’t match. She kept her arms crossed over her chest, and kept shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to another.

“Um,” she bit her lip as she watched Krystal and Crystelle getting louder and closer to the org*sm I would never allow them to have. Her eyes darted between the f*cking red-headed twins and the floor. “You asked for me?”

“Gretchen, you look lovely,” I said. “Spin for me.”

It felt strange to not know what she was feeling or to get tiny glimpses of what she was thinking. It felt like a limb of mine had been amputated. The twins radiated with lust, shame, drunkenness, and a deep rage burning in Krystal. But Gretchen was a void, an absence. Was she aroused? Interested? Terrified? Was her puss* soaked — her c*nt dripping?

But whatever she was feeling, she obeyed and spun around for me like a good girl. She didn’t have the world’s most amazing body. Her frame was slight, and her breasts and ass were small. Cute. Perky. But small. It made her come across younger than she really was and reminded me of Eidolon. In fact, even the void rippling off her reminded me of Eidolon. Did she feel like a rejected and lonely watcher, forced to sit in shadows and be ignored, to be taken for granted? Maybe. Maybe I could use that and —

I laughed when I saw the tramp stamp tattoo on her lower back. It was Soma’s name.

“Was that your idea or hers?”

Gretchen blushed and pretended to adjust her glasses to hide her face. “Mine.”

“Adorable,” I said. “May I have another drink?” I asked.

“Uh, what?” Gretchen took a step back. Her eyes darted to the slurping sound coming from between Krystal’s legs. The two red-heads were goddesses compared to her. Besides the obviously delightful f*cking they were involved with, they had the bodies of lingerie models. Lines in the right places over their stomachs, arms, cheeks, and calves. But the rest was all plump curves. If the four of us went out on the town, no one would be looking at Gretchen and I over the twins, even in our alluring and erotic outfits.

“I’d like another drink, ma’am,” I said, pointing to the bar. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Gretchen turned back at the door she entered, as though she was going to find Soma there to tell her what to do. No such luck. “I mean, um. Whatever you want.”

“Thanks, boss,” I said. I turned back to Krystal. The call girl was sitting up, her eyes open despite her sister’s careful ministrations. She looked confused and interested, as though she noticed Gretchen for the first time. “Should I ask her for something for you, love?”

“Who … is …. Mnnn.” Krystal’s eyes rolled back as Crystelle’s tongue carefully swirled over her cl*t again and again. “Who is … she?”

“Gretchen?” I asked. “She was the one that set this up.”

“What about the … the …”

“The other blue-haired woman?” The poor thing needed help finishing sentences. I hoped to be licked so thoroughly soon. Idly, I wondered if I could make my own puss* feel as incredible as I’d made Krystal’s feel. Each fold of her vulva and labia had the sensitivity of ten cl*ts, and when Crystelle’s swirled her tongue over Kyrstal’s cl*t? I imagined it felt like having the universe thrumming between your legs.

“Mhmmm,” Krystal’s voice cracked, and she bit her lip to keep herself from shrieking. Out of boredom, I fed the desire to yell. “f*ck.Yes. Yes. f*ck.” Krystal grabbed Crystelle’s hair with both hands. “Right there,” she said, pulling tight. “Don’t f*cking move. Right … there. There. There. There!” With barely a thought, I reached out to the minds around our hotel room and dampened their sense of hearing. I wanted Krystal to get louder before I was done ruining her life.

“The blue-haired woman is my sister,” I lied. “My first love.” I sat down on the arm of the chair Krystal was sprawled in. As simply as running my hand through a pool of water, I ran my fingertips over her sweaty and bare chest, idly teasing her nipples as though I was bored. “But Gretchen set up the room. The drinks. She called you. She’ll pay you. She has all the toys. She runs the show.”

Gretchen’s eyes widened as she approached with my drink. I held it but didn’t drink it. Meanwhile, Gretchen was nervously downing her own drink. I would have ordered her to stop, but I didn’t want to ruin the illusion I was weaving. Had I access to her senses, I would have numbed them to keep the alcohol from impairing her. But this whole activity was about adapting and overcoming. I could do that.

“In fact,” I said as my arm swung back and forth over the tangled mess of the twin’s flesh. I quickly lowered the sensitivity of Krystal and increased her powers of hearing. I needed her to pay attention to me. And it was easier to do that than to slow Crystelle down. The poor dumb twin was a bitch in heat now. “I think she’s going to have to call your wife, Krystal, to pick you up. Neither of you are in any shape to drive.”

“What?” Krystal sat up in her seat, looking awake and alert for the first time in half an hour.

“Our time’s almost up. Isn’t that right, boss?” I looked meaningfully at Gretchen and took a careful sip of my drink to hide my smirk.

“Um. Well…” Gretchen looked around for a place to put her empty glass down. “We could always book them for more time.”

“If you think that’s wise,” I said. “Though I can sense them both getting dangerously close to either alcohol poisoning or collapsing from exhaustion.” It was true. I’d sensed Crystelle push through several cramps in her jaw and tongue. If I kept Krystal this sensitive, she’d pass out eventually. Already her body thought she was trying to run a marathon with a belly full of alcohol. They both needed gallons of water, but even that wouldn’t keep Krystal from potentially needing her stomach pumped.

“Oh, um.” Gretchen walked back to her computer. I watched her relax as she found a problem that could be solved with research.

“You have Gwen’s number, right?” I asked. “In case of an emergency?”

“Of course,” Gretchen said.

“f*ck.” Krystal pushed Crystelle off her and stood up. She wobbled, but I extended an arm and caught her. I helped her system find its balance and equilibrium while doing my best to calm her stomach. I didn’t often use my powers for medical purposes. It was dangerous. The human body needed each sense to tell the brain what it needed. Krystal’s system was begging for her to sit down, and I was overriding it.

Krsytal stumbled towards Gretchen while Crystelle whined and whimpered on the floor, missing the puss* that filled her with the high of cocaine. I made her sleepy to keep her still. I didn’t need her for the scene yet.

“Don’t do that,” Krystal said. “Don’t call her.”

Gretchen looked at me, so I pretended to help Crystelle. “I’m sorry, but Synapse is right. You’re in no shape to stay here. You need to get home. Or to a hospital. Let me look at your vitals.”

“Are you a doctor?” Krystal said.

“I used to be, but —”

“Then you can look at me!” Krystal grabbed Gretchen’s arm and pulled her away from her shield of computers. “Here, you can strap me to the table or whatever.”

“I don’t have the necessary tools to —”

I cranked Krystal’s rage all the way up. All I had to do was build on the fear of Gwen finding out that Krystal had relapsed, that her life was ruined, that her bride and child would leave her. Then I had to direct it at Gretchen. This wasn’t Krystal’s mistake. It was Gretchen’s game. Gretchen’s trap. Krystal didn’t need to be mad at herself. She needed to be mad at the bitch that made this all happen.

“Bullsh*t!” Krystal snapped. “I saw you with a syringe and some other sh*t. I know you have something and —” Krystal turned to me. “You can help her! Can’t you sense things and —”

“Not like that,” Gretchen said. “She can’t tell me how much alcohol is in your stomach.”

“A lot,” Crystelle said from the floor. I made that the funniest thought she’d ever had. She chuckled to herself, but she was clearly stoned out of her mind. The giggle built until she was hysterically laughing.

More fuel for Krystal’s fire.

“Shut up,” Krystal said, letting go of Gretchen’s arm as the whole room turned their attention to Crystelle’s manic laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Crystelle said, though her laughter was still building. “She’s got half the bar in her stomach, if that helps, boss. Half of whatever you stocked.”

Krystal crossed the room in a flash to her sister. “Only because you made me do it, you c*nt!” Krystal struggled to pick Crystelle up. She was drunk, and Crystelle couldn’t stand on her own. With a roar, she picked her sister up by the hair. Crystelle finally stopped laughing and cried out in pain, but the both women were silent when Krystal slapped her sister. It cracked Crystelle’s head to the side, busting her lip and freeing a thin line of blood. Crystelle fell backwards onto the chair previously occupied by Krystal, and the whole room stood in shocked horror at the sudden violence.

Well, not me.

I had work to do.

Yes, I had to stoke the flames of Krystal’s rage. But it didn’t take much. She was already out of control. She was scared. She was dangerous. Siblings don’t over consider violence to each other. But I had to do more than that.

First was Crystelle. The timing had to be perfect. She was stunned and almost instantly sobered by the slap, but I didn’t want her to focus on that.

And I didn’t want Krystal focusing on the rage either.

I wanted them to focus on the pain.

Krystal giving it.

Crystelle getting it.

And the org*sm I had denied them for over thirty minutes of mind-blowing edging.

I released the dam, and both women crumpled into themselves as the org*sm rippled through them. And I’ll admit, I was buzzed enough to hijack both of them. My knees softened, and I gripped the arm of the chair holding Crystelle as two of the most powerful org*sms I’d ever felt rippled through me. I had to taper it, to soften it for myself. Soma was right, it could break me to dive too deep into this pleasure.

And if it could break someone as powerful as me, imagine what it could do to two drunk humans.

I linked them together, and then they both shared the org*sm. Krystal felt Crystelle’s org*sm along with her own. Crystelle felt her org*sm along with Krystal’s. Krystal felt Crystelle feeling her org*sm. The feedback loop was complete, and the two women collapsed, shaking as the pleasure shook them. For a moment, their nervous systems shut down to keep the body from frying itself with pleasure.

I severed all connection with them, unable to bear it. I staggered away and towards Gretchen, stumbling as some of my drink sloshed and spilled to the hotel room floor.

“f*ck,” I said as a migraine built behind my eyes. I hadn’t heeded Soma’s warning enough. I couldn't believe how much more I still had to learn. I had never linked two other people together, and I thought that was a perfectly clever trick, but I needed to make sure I wasn’t part of the circuit before closing it.

“Are you okay?” Gretchen said as she came to my side. She stumbled over her heels, cussed, and kicked them off. “I hate those things,” she muttered to herself before reaching me.

“I’m fine. A migraine,” I said. “Pushed myself a bit too far.”

Gretchen stood in front of me, looking into my eyes and trying to perform some type of examination while in her slu*tty and expensive lingerie. I almost laughed at the image, but her concern was real and there was something indescribably beautiful about her. No. Not beautiful. Yummy. It was the part in her lips. The big eyes and soft and delicate body. She wanted to be a snack. And after riding the aftershock of the twins’ org*sm, I realized how hungry I was.

“Let me get my supplies,” Gretchen said. “I can do a quick examination and —”

I kissed her.

I had never kissed a woman before. Had I summoned them to lick my puss*? Yes. Had I arranged their neurons to feel like licking my nipples was the same as licking their own cl*ts? Of course. But I had never had the — would we call it bravery? — to kiss a woman. Until today, I had never had the freedom from the restraints to put my hand against her cheek or to wrap the other hand around the back of her neck. And how could I kiss anyone I controlled? How could something so intimate be taken? Be forced?

No. It had to be like this. With someone like Gretchen who had cared for me and laughed with me. Someone who lusted over me, yes. But not someone that wanted to f*ck me. Someone that wanted to care for me. Or at least I assumed as much. Because what I really needed was someone I couldn’t feel. Someone where I couldn’t know beyond a shadow of a doubt what they were feeling or thinking. For me to want them — to truly want them — there had to be the lingering question before the kiss. Did she want it too? Would she reciprocate? Did she ache for this as badly as I did?

Gretchen answered with a resounding yes.

She pushed into my kiss and fed off it. And I couldn’t hijack the feeling. She was a mystery to me — a whole universe I could only explore by reading her body. She kissed me, and suddenly it didn’t matter if Soma was watching. My training. Her game. The traps and the twins. The doom waiting for both of us if I didn’t figure out a way to conquer my mistress. The darkness looming over the world if I gave into what my body wanted. None of that mattered. All that mattered is that I wanted to kiss her, so I took it. She wanted me to kiss her, so she received it. It was beautiful and lovely amongst a time of such twisted and corrupted pleasure.

It was a shame I had to ruin it.

I broke the kiss and stepped back. “Thank you, Mistress,” I said. I bit my lip and looked away shyly. I increased the sensitivity of Krystal and Crystelle’s hearing to get their attention. They both looked my way. “Thank you for the permission,” I said, louder this time. I bowed my head and stepped back as though nervous. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

I couldn’t tell if Gretchen was more confused by the kiss or my strange comments, but it didn’t matter. She lifted her trembling fingertips to her moist lips like a question mark. “Um … yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

I turned to the twins. Crystelle looked strung out and close to passing out. I spiked her adrenaline. We were almost done; she only needed a little boost. But Krystal didn’t need any help. Her rage was still burning hot, and her focus was locked on Gretchen. “Do you two want to give her a kiss as a way of saying thank you?”

“Her?” Krystal practically spat.

“Yes.” I glided around and behind Gretchen, putting my hands on her shoulders. “Without her, you would have never experienced that incredible org*sm.”

I sprinkled in a dash of jealousy. Resentment. Ownership. Pride. “I didn’t need her for that,” Krystal said. She bent down and ran her hands over her twin sister possessively. “I have all that I need right here.”

Crystelle closed her eyes and moaned softly. I increased the sensitivity of her skin wherever Krystal roamed. I was getting too tired to do her whole body. I made a note to build my stamina before trying to conquer the world.

“But she showed you the way,” I said.

“What way is that?” Krystal asked. “A tongue is a tongue is a tongue is a tongue.”

I smirked. “We both know that’s not true.”

Gretchen said nothing as I stood behind her. Her breathing was ragged, but she didn’t squirm out of my touch. She didn’t go cold, but she went still. I wanted to lick her neck. To bite her ear. To run my hands down and rip the delicate lace of her white bralette. But not yet. All in good time. Besides, Soma had taught me one valuable lesson: I should never get my hands dirty when I can get someone else filthy.

“Then what? Incest? That was the magic ingredient she introduced me to?” Krystal scoffed. “I f*cked this moron plenty of times.”

“And nothing has made you cum like that,” I said. “Has it?”

Krystal hesitated. The haughty arrogance faded from her face, but I didn’t let her confusion cool her rage. I couldn’t plant the thought in her mind. I had to let her come to it all on her own. I had rewritten her body, figuring out the patterns while Crystelle ate her out. Crystelle was an addict to cocaine, her sister’s puss*, and now pain. And Krystal? Well, she had simply become the perfect supplier for her bimbo sister.

Krystal’s hand froze on her sister’s collarbone. As it clicked, I felt that familiar surge of satisfaction flood my body. Like lust and pride. Like serenity and the adrenaline of skydiving. Like worshiping the divine and lovely self-care.

I’d done it.

Krystal brought her fingertips to Crystell’s nipple, and I focused all my attention on increasing the sensitivity to both of them. For Crystelle, her sister twisting her nipple would practically bring her to immediate org*sm. For Krystal, the sound of her sister’s shriek of pain would make her weak in the knees and hungry between her legs.

I had learned the pathways with Lin, Maggie, and a dozen other subs and dommes Soma had brought in for my lessons. I knew all the spots where pain and pleasure overlapped, where hurting felt a lot like making your lover cum. I don’t know if I could break someone of Bastille’s power, but I could make a sad*st and a masoch*st with enough time. I just had to get faster; had to get stronger.

As the realization clicked for the sisters, Gretch and I became afterthoughts to the twins. Crystelle whipped around and kissed her sister. But Krystal didn’t have time for it. She found a new hunger in her body, and she needed to satiate her twisted appetite. She pulled her sister’s hair back, and Crystelle cried out in pain and pleasure. Krystal licked the length of Crystelle’s neck before she started to bite it. She started slow and soft, but Crystelle begged for more. For harder. For it to hurt.

Krystal was too happy to oblige.

“See what I can do?” I whispered in Gretchen’s ear. The nerdy strawberry blonde tried to step back, but she pressed her body against mine. One of my hands quickly moved from her shoulder and wrapped around her bare stomach. I pulled her tight, and the moan that escaped her delicate throat was soft.

I wanted to crush it.

“I know Soma can do the same. We’ve both played before,” I said. “But Soma is going to leave this planet soon, and I will rule it. How many times do you think I’ll have to replay this scene? How many new ways will I have to find to break people? To corrupt them? To encourage them to corrupt each other?” I kissed her ear and let my tongue linger, drawing small circles over her lobe. She shivered in my arms.

“Would you like to be by my side when I make the whole world f*ck itself?”

Gretchen didn’t hesitate. She nodded and grabbed my hand on her stomach. She tried to draw it down to her panties, but I resisted.

“Oh, not yet, love.” With my free hand, I peeled away one of the straps of her bralette and kissed the bare skin it previously covered. She moaned again, but still not loud enough for the twins to hear. “You wouldn’t want them to think you were in charge here. You have no idea what Krystal would do to you if she thought you were to blame for her relapse.”

“Like …” Gretchen stopped as Crystelle’s shrieks filled the room. I couldn’t dull the hearing of the other hotel guests, and I didn’t care anymore. Security could rush in here, and I’d see how quickly I could claim them if I needed to. I had to concentrate. I was close. So close.

“Like that,” I said. Krystal had flipped Crystelle over her lap. She was spanking her, striking the same bright red spot over and over, turning it as red as their hair. Crystelle flailed and shrieked, but she didn’t try to get away. Each time her ass was struck, she lifted it higher, offering it to her twin, to her mistress.

“Yes. Yes. Oh, f*ck, yes.” Crystelle tried to get a hand between her legs, but Krystal was quick.

“I cum before you, bitch. Always.” Krystal brought Crystelle’s hand to her own puss*, and then one submissive twin was fingering her sad*stic sister.

“Maybe like that,” I said to Gretchen. “Maybe she’ll smack you so hard you’ll cum like she did to Crystelle. Would you like that?”

“I … I …”

“It’s okay. Soma and I both know what a submissive whor* you are.”

Gretchen nodded and pressed her ass against me. She started to slowly grind against me, and her pull for my hand to go between her legs strengthened. She needed it. Wanted it. God, humans made it so easy sometimes.

“The real question,” I said. “Whose bitch are you? Will you belong to Soma? To me?” I nibbled her neck and Gretchen’s knees softened as she melted into me. “Or Krystal?” She pressed her ass against me and finally got my hand between her legs. I wasn’t fighting her anymore. She used my fingers to touch her cl*t, but my hand was limp.

“Please,” she whined. “Please touch me.”

“Maybe I’ll give you to Aurora Flight when I turn them like Krystal?” I said. “How would you like to serve five sad*stic supers at once?”

“Mmmm…”

“Please, please,” Crystelle shrieked. “Please, it hurts. It hurts!”

Krystal yanked on her sister’s hair again. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Noooo,” Crystelle moaned. “Don’t stop. Please, please, please. It hurts so good.”

Gretchen was soaked. Her skin was hot. She worked my limp fingers furiously against her cl*t. I would stop her org*sm if I could, but it didn’t matter. I had her either way. I could feel it in her body. She sensed the inevitability of my rule, and for the first time since my capture, so did I.

“Do you want to play with my puppets?” I asked.

“Please …” Gretchen said. “Please, Mistress.”

“But you’re going to be my bitch, aren’t you?”

Gretchen nodded.

“Say it.”

“I’ll be your bitch, Mistress.”

“Good girl,” I said. “Now don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I want it.”

I smirked as I pulled my hands away and pushed her towards the twins. “Krystal, dear,” I said. The sad*stic twin stopped spanking her sister and looked up at me. Her eyes were glazed over as Crystelle was furiously fingering her. I dulled the pleasure from the touch. Krystal could only cum by hurting people now.

“She called Gwen,” I said. “Sent her a video of the whole session.”

Krystal’s face went white. “You what?”

Gretchen spun and stared at me. “What did you …”

But Krystal grabbed her hair and undid her beautiful bun before she could get her words out. Crystelle had been tossed to the floor, but she was already on her feet, ready to help her mistress punish the delicate bitch that had ruined their lives.

And me? I was tired and finally moved to the lovely bed in the penthouse. It was hard to believe we hadn’t used it yet.

Krystal was about to spank Gretchen when I said, “Would you like some help?”

She spanked Gretchen once and said through gritted teeth, “I don’t need any goddamn help.”

“How about some toys?” I said.

Krystal froze mid-strike. There was rage in her face, but it felt much better surging through her body. It was pure. Here was the chance to get revenge. She knew her life was ruined. She knew her marriage was over. But she could get revenge. And she could get off while she did it.

“Toys?” Krystal asked.

“Um .. yes,” Gretchen said. “I have —”

Krystal smacked her hard. “Shut the f*ck up, bitch.”

I wished I could know if Gretchen liked it. If she was aroused from the blow like Crystelle was. But all I had was the flush of red and the smirk on Gretchen’s lips. It would have to be enough.

“I’ll find them,” Crystelle said. They would find all sorts of delights hidden away. Floggers. Rope. Clamps. Gags. Strap-ons. Krystal would need to learn exactly how many different ways there were to hurt a person. That was how many different ways she could cum now.

And Gretchen would need to learn not to trust so easily.

And who she should truly fear.

I lifted my immaculate skirt up around me and sat up on the bed, watching the p*rn I had written for myself while I began to touch myself. I may one day have a harem of slu*ts to service me, but somehow I doubted it. I could do it better myself. Besides, it wasn’t the touch that got me off. It was the mind games of it all.

I guess it came naturally to me in the end.

I think you’re ready to break free, Soma thought at me while I drew lazy circles over my cl*t, drawing out my org*sm. There was no reason to rush. The twins would leave, but then they’d be back. They would need my orchestrations forever.

No, I thought back. One more stop. Then I’m ready to see what I can do to Aurora Flight. That is what you’re preparing me for, isn’t it?

I’m preparing you for so much more than five women.

Them first. I arched my back and moaned, picking up my pace against my wishes. Visions danced through my mind. Dark. Delightful. Erotic. Irresistible. I want to break them first.

Chapter 12: Corpus Callosotomy

Chapter Text

Eidolon

“We found Synapse,” Io said in our big ‘War Room’ at the Borealis. She looked exhausted with heavy bags under her eyes, but somehow she still pulled off yummy. Well, not somehow. I watched her put on her makeup and shower before she called this meeting. She made sure to leave the eyes looking like sh*t so she could show us how tired she was, how hard she had been working. She wanted us to be impressed with her hard work while simultaneously depressed that we hadn’t done more to find Synapse ourselves.

What a f*cking c*nt.

But I didn’t call her out on it. She didn’t know that I was learning to stay inside of the shadows. That ever since playing with Perla, I was learning to stay in the Gray rather than rush through it. In the Gray, I could move through people, I could even touch some essence of a person. Not quite their soul because clearly Perla enjoyed a very intimate part of her anatomy that I was able to touch. But I could do more than step through shadows these days, and that included lurking inside the shadows of Io’s room to watch her shower. It included waiting to catch her masturbating one night just to know the smell of her arousal. But it never happened, and I didn’t have forever to waste.

Perla and I had hit a dead-end in our search for the blue-haired woman, so I was back to trying to get one step ahead of Io. But the dark-skinned bitch had given me nothing but a few quick and efficient showers — the freak didn’t even sigh with relief when the hot water hit her flesh after a long day.

“Really?” Bastille said, standing up. She wore long sleeves and pants wherever she went these days, hoping we wouldn’t notice her battered-wife look. But they weren’t bruises, were they, Bastille? No. Burns from late night sessions with Surya. They called it training, but the three of us knew better.

“Where? Should we suit up?”

Io nodded. “There is a warehouse downtown, and a penthouse in the Sinclaire Building. Yesterday, I found footage of the blue-haired woman traveling back and forth between those places.” Io paused for dramatic effect with a smug look as though there was press here — god, I wanted to bend her over backwards and bury that co*cky expression between my legs. “And Synapse was with her.”

It was Kori’s turn to stand up dramatically along with Surya and Bastille. Kori was going for her simple and basic Kansas farm-girl look — if this girl was raised in a private boarding school for the bitchy instead of, y’know, on a goddamn farm. Blonde. Long straight hair. Blue eyes (the boys do love the Aryan bitches). Perky tit*. Bubble ass. Tiny skirt. Heels. Crop top. Bimbo as hell — which probably matched what was going on in her brain as she had done absolutely f*cking nothing to find Synapse. Even less than Surya and Bastille. I hadn’t bothered to follow her to make sure, but she kept going to a studio downtown with the creep we saved from Hauzer that Synapse didn’t like. I bet you he was promising her an acting gig while actually producing mountains of p*rn with her.

Or I was just horny as f*ck. Take your pick.

“Then let’s go,” Kori said. I anticipated a vocal fry for today’s bimbo look, but she had decided to avoid valley girl in favor of that annoying influencer pseudo whisper. Was she doing ASMR lately? I rolled my eyes before clearing my throat to get the room’s attention.

“I agree,” Io said. “Let’s go over the perimeter of these targets and decide which one to prioritize before —”

“Ahem,” I said louder. I hate being f*cking ignored.

Io sighed. “What ‘Lon?”

“After what happened last time, you want to just rush in there?”

Kori, Bastille, and Surya blushed and looked away. But Io clenched her jaw. Good. I’ve been aching for a fight.

“Synapse has been missing for weeks,” she said. “And you want to wait?”

Oh yes, she’s in such a f*cking rush. That’s why she took a shower and did her makeup before calling this meeting. Goddamn bitch.

“Let me get this straight,” I said as sweetly as I could. “Synapse has been missing for weeks, and the footage just showed up yesterday in both locations.”

Io rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“Were there cameras in those areas before?”

“Yes.”

“And no sign of Synapse or the blue-haired woman before?”

“No.”

I shrugged. “There you have it. It’s a trap.”

“It’s not a —”

Kori held up a hand to silence Io, which our ‘fearless leader’ did not f*cking appreciate. “What do you mean it’s a trap?”

It was my turn to stand up. I guess that was the kind of meeting we were in. “We know that blue-haired bitch has some tech wizard with her, right?”

“We saved Elizabeth Sanders,” Bastille said in her slight French accent.

“What would keep her from getting another?” I asked.

“And maybe she got Omega Man to act as her bodyguard,” Io said snidely. “We don’t have time to speculate about every possible —”

“Would it be hard to hide the camera footage if you knew about the city’s network or if you suspected you were being tracked by someone like Io?” I addressed my question to Kori, Surya, and Bastille — y’know, the sane team members. “Why would she appear now after weeks of perfect silence?’

“People make mistakes,” Io said.

“This one hasn’t yet. Every time we thought she was making a mistake, she was just setting a trap. This is clearly a trap.”

“You think we should ignore the one good lead we have?” Io asked. “Surya, are you seriously considering —”

Surya held up a glowing finger, and Io fell silent. Not going to lie, it was pretty hot. “Eidolon has a point,” Surya said. “And I, for one, am not interested in being taken advantage of again.” She looked in Bastille’s direction, and the giant blonde blushed and looked at the floor.

Heat rushed through my body at their shame, fear, and obvious arousal.

“What are you suggesting?” Kori asked.

“I think Io’s right,” I said — and it f*cking hurt to even pretend it. “We can’t ignore the lead, but we shouldn’t go in guns blazing and get caught again. I suggest we scout ahead and find out if these are credible leads. Baby steps. If we think this isn’t a trap, we regroup and go in as a team, still acting as though it’s a trap.”

The girls were silent as they weighed my words. I knew it might be impossible for them to take me seriously — to think of me as an equal this time. Only Synapse had done that before she got kidnapped. But I didn’t need them to trust or like me. I just needed them to fear failing again.

“Fine,” Io said. “Let’s do that. We should send Kori in as a fly, or I can get some drones and —”

“No, I got it,” I said as I headed for the door. “I’ll start with the penthouse.”

“Try not to get trapped in light,” Io called after me.

I raised a middle finger behind me as I walked out the door. “Just send me the address.”

***

After cutting the security camera feed, I watched from the shadows as the two redheaded twins stepped out of the penthouse and into the elevator. As soon as the door closed, they sagged against the wall with what looked like complete exhaustion. Despite their perfect looks, there was sweat and smudged makeup that made it clear that they’d just been f*cked good and hard. I was just about to turn away from them and head deeper into the penthouse — deeper into the lair of the blue-haired woman — when they started kissing each other.

At first, it was a gentle kiss. Like two lovers who have been staring into each other’s eyes too long and don’t care if they’re in public, it’s just one quick peck before they part for the day. But that spark started an inferno inside their bodies, as the quick peck became a second one. And a third. They held each other’s faces and kissed as though each kiss was wrong, as though it was too shallow. As though they were drowning until they found the perfect kiss.

Well, f*ck me sideways.

I could have stayed and watched the two flawless redheads makeout for the rest of my life. And part of me wanted to. The part of me that related to every sane person on the planet. If you ever get a chance to watch two hot twins makeout, you take it. But still, there was work to do on the other side of that elevator. Work and destiny.

One way or the other, I was going to step beyond the Gray today. I could either end up like one of these redheads, or the blue-haired woman was going to teach me what she had to offer. She was going to show me how she did it. I needed to know not just how to shut people off and numb their bodies — that was a cute trick, but let’s be honest, I wasn’t interested in turning people off. But she was going to teach me how to get what I wanted from them. From anyone. Getting Perla desperate to f*ck me was easy. I had something she wanted, something she needed. It was like being able to withhold air from someone with a careless thought. But Perla was a special case — one that the blue-haired woman engineered for me. How could I recreate that with anyone I wanted?

How could I do it with Io?

I was about to step through the Gray and into the penthouse when one of the redheads sank to her knees while her sister casually wrapped a hand around her throat. But instead of crying out in pain or fear, the submissive sister wasted the little air left to her on a moan. I was just wondering if I should step in and save the bimbo sister — I know, hero work is a hard habit to break — when the redhead looming over her seemed to transform. She — let’s call her Domme for now — let go of Sub’s throat, and in the blink of an eye slapped the bejeezus out of her sister. Sub moaned instead of cried out, and Domme laughed at her. Hell, I was about to laugh at the moron when Domme's face turned into a mask of rage.

“You f*cking, c*nt,” Domme said to her sister (such sisterly love is moving, honestly. Moving). Then she spat on her sister’s face as though she’d done it a hundred times. And Sub took it like she’d been spat on every day of her life. Her face was serene as her twin smeared the spit all over her face before smacking her again.

I was just about to reach between my legs when the elevator dinged. Domme pulled Sub up to her feet by her hair, and Sub moaned again instead of the natural human instinct to cry out in pain. The two were in ripped and ruined clothes, so the nice men at the front desk and door stopped to try and help them before letting them out on the street — which I thought was both nice and condescending as hell.

I watched, bemused and horny, as the elevator doors closed with me inside, lurking in the shadows. I pressed the button to send it back to the penthouse. Clearly the blue-haired woman had been busy — the kind of busy I wanted to be.

The penthouse itself looked like I hoped — fancy but ruined from a recent BDSM orgy of some kind. There were whips, cuffs, ropes, strap-ons, vibrators, dild*s, and a dozen other toys I’d never seen before and could only imagine their purpose. It looked like every surface had been f*cked on with scratches and stains. There had also been a lot of booze consumed. And I mean a lot. Empty bottles littered the different rooms as the party moved from surface to surface. Even the huge windows overlooking the city were smeared with fingerprints and other liquids I couldn’t identify.

But there weren’t any people.

I stayed in the shadows and looked before I moved through the Gray. I doubt the blue-haired woman knew I was coming with enough time to prepare another light trap for me, but with her powers, I could assume she sensed the presence of my mind. That was fine. I didn’t need to get the jump on her; I just wanted to talk to her after all. I just needed to make sure she didn’t get the jump on me.

Someone had set up a bed in what I could best describe as the living room — assuming penthouse owners used quaint names for rooms like us poor normal people. There was a setup of several monitors near the bed which I hoped meant there was some kinky recording of whatever the hell happened here. I wondered if the twins were always like that. As nice as it may be to fantasize about, it’s hard to believe that there are real twins in the world that love f*cking each other. Even harder to believe that one loves to be hurt and spat on while the other equally loves hurting people and spitting on them. And after seeing what the blue-haired woman had done to Surya and Bastille, I could believe she had revised them to be the kinkier version of themselves. Hell, that was the reason I was here, right? I wanted to know how to make those edits, whether it was to alter them altogether or to make slight revisions to unleash the submissive slu*t hidden inside each human skull.

Because maybe Surya and Bastille were always this way.

Because I know deep down that the blue-haired woman didn’t do anything to me. I knew — and if she could read minds, then she knew — that I was always like this. I just didn’t see the way. I hated the idea of abusing my power. But what difference would that be from Io using her fame to get wealth or Kori using her powers to be every lover’s fantasy? We all used our powers to get what we wanted — well, except for Synapse.

Holy f*ck, what was the blue-haired woman going to do to Synapse?

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. If I found the blue-haired woman and she took me in — which was already assuming a lot — maybe I could convince her to let Synapse go. Or maybe Synapse would join me. No. That would never work. Synapse was a good girl. She was incorruptible.

I was still snuggled into the shadows as I moved through the penthouse. I had grown accustomed to the Gray now that I spent hours at a time there. I had learned that it didn’t lack color, it just had too many shades. Billions of them. I could slowly differentiate that the redheads had red hair, but it still looked mostly gray to me. That was fine. It was a small price to pay for the feeling the Gray brought with it these days. Instead of feeling like a great cost I was paying to step through shadows, it felt like the one place I was untouchable. It was my realm, and here I was a goddess.

I held my breath before I stepped into a new room. My heart rate went crazy at the thought that any room could be a trap, but more importantly, any room could hold the blue-haired woman. I imagined her lounging on some expensive sofa with a drink in her hands, crowned in shadows. She would be staring at the exact spot I was hiding, totally immune to my cloaking. I imagined her amusem*nt at my obsession, my care, and my hunt. She wouldn’t be flattered. I wouldn’t impress her. She would laugh, and then … and then …

Then would she break me?

If I had no chance against her by myself, what else could possibly happen? Did I seriously think she would help me? Train me? No. She wouldn’t even f*ck me. She didn’t back at her base with Hauzer. She trapped me, made me watch, and left me. Why wouldn’t she do that again?

I was broken from my reverie of self-doubt by the sound of someone crying. I hovered outside the door of one of the bedrooms, listening. It sounded like one person. Female. But she wasn’t wailing. It was a simple whimper, and she was moving things around. I think. Packing? There was the occasional light thud of something heavy being moved accompanied with the subtle clink of smaller things colliding. Whoever it was, she wasn’t a very careful packer. I listened for more bodies, more feet, more voices, but I got nothing. And I couldn’t imagine the blue-haired woman packing her base of operations while weeping, so I could probably risk peeking through the wall via the Gray.

What I saw caught my breath. It was a woman in her late twenties with strawberry blonde hair that was in total disarray. She had thick circular glasses that were broken, and she was moving through the room, packing it up, while in exquisite and ripped white lace lingerie. Her stockings were riddled with holes. Her lace panties were ripped to shreds and dangling from useless garters. One of the straps of her bralette was gone, and one of her perky tit* was hanging out, but she didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t seem to care. She was moving pieces of machinery — what looked like computer tech — into boxes and loading them up.

I stepped into the room but stayed in the Gray. Once I was closer, I could see she was covered in marks. Red lines. A bruise on her cheek. Little bite barks along her arms. Several hickies on her neck like a dark red necklace. And before I could think better of anything, the hero instincts in me took over and I was slinking out of the darkness and opening my stupid mouth.

“Are you alright?” I asked, holding up my hands to try and show her I meant her no harm.

“Holy sh*t!” she said as she stepped back, dropping a box that was in her hands onto her toe. “f*ck!” she roared and hopped backwards, sitting on the bed, and holding her foot. So much for not startling her. “Jesus. f*cking. Ow.” She hissed and rocked back and forth. Instead of peeling off her stocking to look at her foot, she just ripped it some more until her right foot was free.

“f*ck. I’m sorry,” I said, stepping closer. “Let me see.”

My voice seemed to remind her that there was an intruder in her room. She let go of her foot and rolled backwards, falling off the bed and losing her glasses in the process. “What do you want from me?” she said. “What are you —”

“My name is Eidolon.” I gestured to my relatively lame suit and the Aurora Flight badge on my chest. Someone in a PR firm designed it, and then Io helped some people make it more camouflage-y to work with my powers. “I’m a member of —”

“Aurora Flight,” she said. “I know.” She scooped down to pick up her glasses, seeming to compose herself. “You could have knocked, y’know.”

“Um …” I looked back at the rest of the abandoned penthouse destroyed from what I assumed was some rather vigorous f*cking. Looking at the dainty girl in front of me, I could guess that she was a participant or victim of some sort.

“Right,” I said. “Is this your penthouse?”

“No.” She picked up the box that had destroyed her toe and placed it back on the bed with the other boxes. “It belongs to a friend.”

“Did this friend do that to you?” I said, pointing to her destroyed clothing.

“No,” she said without shame or embarrassment. Since I walked in, she made no effort to cover her body. She was totally unashamed — which to me reeked of the blue-haired woman.

“Are you aware that this is the suspected lair of a powerful super we’ve been hunting?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I watched her face as she continued packing before saying, “Woman. Blue-hair. Likes leather. And mind games. And sex.”

Her face betrayed nothing, but she stopped packing and stared at me, letting me read her entire face. She was confident. Or well trained. Or totally f*cking brainwashed.

“There’s no one here matching that description,” she said.

“We have camera footage that says she was here in the last 24 hours.” I pointed around the penthouse. “Maybe she’s the one that made this mess?”

The woman shook her head. “No. This wasn’t her.”

“Different friends?” I said. “Redheaded twins, maybe?”

This one caught her off guard, and she couldn’t hide her surprise. Not surprised at what I was saying, but surprised at what I knew.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Do you have a warrant?” She stepped backwards, and I stepped closer. All at once, my fear and nerves fled me. She was the one who was scared. She was the one who should be. I had played this role before with Perla. This woman was going to dodge my questions, but she had no idea who she was dealing with.

I had to show her.

I stepped through the shadows and appeared behind her. She stepped forward, looking for me. “I’m not a cop,” I said. She jumped and spun, clutching her heart as the fear seized her. For a moment, I wished I was Synapse and able to pick up on her terror, to lick at the pool of it like a cat.

I stepped through the shadows once more to another corner of the room. “And I don’t have to play by their rules.” The woman spun, but I stepped through the shadows again, appearing behind her once more. “So how about we cut the bullsh*t?”

She spun once more, and this time I stayed in place. But I let my body sink into the Gray, leaving only my eyes visible in the growing darkness. “What’s your name?”

She staggered back and fell on the bed. “G-G-Gretchen.”

“Hello, G-G-Gretchen,” I mocked, stepping closer to her and out of the shadows. “I am Eidolon of Aurora Flight. The bitch we’re looking for captured one of our members. And you can either answer my questions, or I can call in the rest of the team. And the FBI. And half the supers in the city that are looking for my friend, Synapse.”

“I don’t know anything.” She looked back at the doors as though she was expecting someone to appear there. Instinct took over, and I stepped into the shadows, ready to disappear out of the penthouse entirely. The sun was setting. Soon the world would be my playground.

“Bullsh*t,” I said. My disembodied voice filled the room, and Gretchen looked around for some sign of me, any sign. All she got was shadows.

“You just decided to have an abusive orgy?”

“I …” Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of gray, which I knew was red. “I can do that if I want.”

“Of course you can. And the blue-haired woman watched? Or did she just orchestrate it and leave?”

“Please,” she said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I appeared in front of her and grabbed her jaw. She didn’t kick me off, but I was ready for it. Instead, her eyes went wide as what must have looked like a ghost was done with her bullsh*t. “Don’t f*cking lie to me,” I said. I ripped the other strap of her bralette. “Who did this to you?”

It wasn’t an act. I didn’t care about some brainless bimbo. I didn’t care about the incestuous twins. It was all hot, but none of it mattered. They were just like Perla, just more bodies left in the blue-haired woman’s wake. And I was close. Closer than ever. Perla was months behind the blue-haired woman, but Gretchen must have just seen her. No more than a day ago. She had the answers I needed, and I had to act on them quickly. Io and the team would be behind me. I didn’t have time for lies.

“The twins!” she shrieked. “We were supposed to have fun, and then the twins went — well one of them — went dark and psycho and —”

“The blue-haired woman made her do it.”

“No!” She looked away and bit her lip. “Well, sort of. It was —”

My hand moved lower, wrapping around Gretchen’s throat. “Where is she?”

But the fear in Gretchen’s face disappeared instantaneously. She seemed to almost lean into my hand, to be curling into it, begging for it. I had seen it before.

Perla.

“What did she do to you?” I said, my voice softening. My free hand reached between Gretchen’s legs. “Did she make you —”

Gretchen moaned and pressed her puss* against my hand.

“Please squeeze,” she said. “Please.”

“You can feel this?” I said, letting my fingers glide along the lips of her puss*. She was f*cking soaked.

“Mmmmm,” Gretchen said. “Mhmm.”

“And this?” I let one finger slip between the folds and found her swollen cl*t quickly.

“Mhmm. Oh f*ck. Yes.”

“You want me to f*ck you like the twins did?”

Her eyes opened. “Harder than them.” There was both certainty and desperation in her voice. Again, it reminded me of Perla. “You can do things they never could, touch me in places they couldn’t reach.”

“Like your org*sm? Did the blue-haired woman take away your org*sm?”

Gretchen laughed and looked away from me. Her hips kept pulsing, grinding her puss* against my hand, but I pulled it away. I released her throat. She whimpered but kept slithering over the messy bed, offering her body.

I stepped backwards. This was off. This was the trap. It wasn’t light this time. It was Gretchen. She flipped too quickly. This wasn’t right. I looked to the door, expecting to find the blue-haired woman there, but there was nothing. I stepped through the shadow and quickly checked all over the penthouse without being circ*mspect. Gretchen cried out at my absence, but I didn’t have time for it. Everywhere the blue-haired woman went, she left sex-crazed bimbos. I wasted too much time with Perla. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again with Gretchen.

“Please,” she cried out. “Come back! I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

“I have no doubt,” I muttered. I could f*ck her like Perla, but neither of them were the ones I wanted. They were practice at best, but they should have been stepping stones to the blue-haired woman. But they were useless. All useless.

I stepped back into the bedroom. Gretchen had tossed everything off the bed and was spread waiting for me, idly teasing her cl*t with one hand and an exposed tit with another. “Show me the shadow,” she said as seductively as possible.

“What did she do to you?” I asked. “She didn’t shut off your puss* or org*sm, though she’s done that to other girls.”

Gretchen bit her lip and nodded. “She wouldn’t do that to me. I’m her favorite.” She stopped touching herself. “Or at least I used to be.”

“She doesn’t need you anymore?’

Gretchen shook her head. The pain on her face was genuine, but I didn’t have time to give a f*ck. I’m sure her decades of therapy will be filled with empathy. I was in a rush.

“What did she do to you?” I asked again.

Gretchen tapped her brain. “It’s all locked up in here.”

“Stop f*cking around.” I clenched my fists and looked at the door again. It felt like she was stalling for time, keeping me here for some trap. “I don’t have time.”

“How about you f*ck it out of me?” she said with a coy smile.

I snarled and stepped into the Gray. But this time I didn’t step past her, to her, or around her. This time I stepped through her. Into her. It was like reaching into the Gray inside of Perla, of finding the spaces between her neurons and cutting them away or playing them like the strings of a harp. But the Gray space wasn’t between Gretchen’s legs.

It was between her ears.

I hadn’t thought of it before, but in all my time in the Gray, I never saw by light. There was no light in the Gray. There was a kind of glow, a kind of pale reflection like starlight compared to sunlight. But it wasn’t the full spectrum. Things bled and faded, they lost their luster and polish. But not in Gretchen’s mind. Here the gray was full of light, like moonlight to the typical starlight. It was bright and pale, rich and glowing. It was delightful.

How had I not seen it before?

Little traces of the light rushed through Gretchen’s body, and I assumed they were more nerve endings. Messages from the brain like cars on a highway at night from the height of an airplane. Just dots rushing back and forth. But if the body was a highway, the brain was a city. It was a beacon against the darkness. I froze as I marveled at it. Compared to the walls around us, the lifeless and dead clothing ripped on Gretchen’s body, even the warm light of the lamps that had turned to a dead and grim shadow, Gretchen’s mind was a full moon on a clear and cool night. It was something to navigate by, something to take me home.

I had never stepped through or into a human mind. Why would I try? Would that kill them? Leave them braindead? Hurt them? For years, I thought my powers made me a monster, and people treated me that way. No one likes a girl that lives in the shadows, that skulks in the background, that lurks in the night. Becoming a superhero was a chance to redeem myself, to say that maybe the girl that goes bump in the night could be a defender instead of a thief, an assassin, or worse. The girl cloaked in darkness could be a hero, and what hero would risk hurting innocents just to test her powers?

But I wasn’t a hero anymore.

And I wasn’t good.

And I wasn’t innocent.

The three thoughts came in quick succession. They were neutral and obvious, as easy to think as ‘Today is Tuesday.’ Because I had no problem sifting through the bright lights of Gretchen’s mind. Even if it hurt her — if it killed her. It didn’t matter. I had to know what I could do, what I was capable of. Gretchen was just the new Perla. They were all a means to an end. I was one step closer to the blue-haired woman, though maybe … maybe …

Maybe I didn’t need the blue-haired woman.

Maybe I could find all the lights in Io’s mind. Maybe the evil I wanted the blue-haired woman to unleash, the permission I needed to let out the bubbling rage eating me alive, the confidence to f*ck Io the way the blue-haired woman f*cked Kori. Maybe I had it all along. Maybe all I needed was power — the power of the Gray matter lurking in each human mind. And maybe for power all I needed was practice.

“Hello practice,” I said with a smile as my body materialized. I cupped Gretchen’s bruised cheek. She flinched away from me, but I didn’t take my hand away. I was going to have her.

“Wh-wh-what was that?”

“Tell me, Gretchen.” I felt my smile turn predatory, but I wasn’t afraid to scare people anymore. And as Gretchen shivered against my cheek, I didn’t think she minded being terrified of me. “What do you know about gray matter?”

***

Her mind was as ruined as Perla’s puss*. It was like finding stand-still traffic in city streets, and most cars were forced to take side alleys and back ways to try to get from Point A to Point B. Or to go back to the harp analogy, every string was tangled and ruined. I spent almost an hour trying to untangle them, but I was getting impatient.

And Gretchen’s arousal wasn’t helping.

That street in her mind was wide open. No traffic whatsoever. No lights. No turns. Nothing. It was as though she could become horny easier than coming up with an original thought. Like she would know she was horny faster than she felt pain or hunger. Which, to the blue-haired woman’s credit (Soma, between the tramp-stamp tattoo Gretchen had and her constant blathering, I had learned the blue-haired woman was named Soma), wasn’t a bad idea. Sounds fun. But then again, I doubt Soma had Gretchen crawling all over her lap and desperately trying to lick her puss* while she concentrated. If stepping in and out of the Gray repeatedly wasn’t so exhausting, I’d have slapped Gretchen away. In fact, it only occured to me after forty-five minutes that I could have — and should have — just tied the bitch up. But I’ll have to remember that next time I do brain surgery in the Immaterial Realm.

“She says it makes it so Synapse can’t sense me or manipulate my senses,” Gretchen said.

I didn’t say anything back. I was close to getting the knot undone. I wasn’t sure what I would want to do with Gretchen after that — I still had so much to learn — but at least I could figure out what change that evoked.

“But I guess she could have made other revisions,” she said. “She does that a lot with her puppets.”

Puppets? Jesus, f*ck. I needed someone to remind me later that I wasn’t going to refer to my bitches as thralls or puppets or minions. Bunch of goddamn psychopaths. How could they be smart enough to make these crazy brain knots but too stupid to be anything but melodramtic and vain thespians at the end of the day. I mean, the amount of work put into —

“f*ck,” I said as I suddenly became solid and slipped out of the Gray. I had cut the wire. I didn’t think I could do that, but Gretchen was getting on my nerves and —

f*ck.

“What are you feeling?” I asked.

Gretchen looked up at me. “Huh?”

“Did I just hurt you?”

Gretchen scrunched up her face. Without her broken glasses, she had an adorable face — and her button nose kinda drove me crazy. Her strawberry-blonde hair flopped back and forth as she shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something was wrong. Her voice was high and squeaky, like she was doing a sh*tty valley-girl impersonation.

“I just cut something in your brain,” I said. “Or the Gray version of your brain. The immaterial part of it.”

“Huh?”

“Oh f*ck. Um …” I looked around the room, trying to find some sort of reference material for a test. “Who wrote MacBeth?”

“What?” Gretchen co*cked her head to one side in a definitely moronic and helpless way. And while she didn’t strike me as the paragon of intelligence before, it was definitely not a good sign that she was struggling to string sentences together.

“Do you remember your name?”

She giggled. “I’m Gretchen. Though you can call me Gretch.”

“Yeah, definitely not doing that.” I ran my hands through my hair. “f*ck. Do you remember Soma?”

“Who?” Gretchen asked. “What’s your name again, babe?” She giggled. “Sorry. It’s all just in one ear and out another. I can’t keep anything in there.”

“f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck. Hang on.” I stepped in the Gray and back into her brain. Almost half the lights had gone out in the city. I had cut away too much. Far too much. I saw the limp strands of her mind. Memories. Desires. Knowledge. People. f*ck. Personality? Goddamn it. Was she Gretch now? Jesus. What the f*ck had I done?

I reached for two broken strands and tried to tie them back together, forming a little knot with my immaterial fingers. When that did nothing, I knew I needed to get the f*ck out of here. I would let the police find Gretch and ask their questions, and I could tell Aurora Flight that there was only some bimbo that Soma had brainf*cked and left in the penthouse. Right. Easiest cover story ever.

But then there was a pulse of light between the two re-connected strands. It wasn’t a light. It didn’t really glow. But it was something like the lights passing through Gretchen’s body, the cars on the highway from high above.

I stepped out of the Gray. Gretchen was still giving me her moronic face, but I didn’t think I was going to fix everything with one lazy square knot. “Gretchen?” I said. “How are you feeling?”

“Me?” she said. Her voice was deeper. It wasn’t the vapid and broken voice she’d used before. It wasn’t girly in the slightest. It was thick and husky. It was a woman, a grown woman. My body shivered at the sound of her voice. “I feel great, love. What’s your name?”

“Holy sh*t,” I whispered. I stepped in the Gray and untied the knot. I stepped out and her voice had returned to the annoying bimbo voice. I stepped back into the Gray and tied the knot again. Stepped out, and she had the sexy and husky voice again.

“Holy f*cking sh*t,” I said to myself. “I did that.”

“Did what?” Gretchen got closer — and by that I mean she practically crawled into my lap. She put her hand on my thigh — very high up my inner thigh. “Did you just help me with something?”

“Uh … yeah,” I said.

Her hand moved from my upper thigh to between my legs. I didn’t fight her. I didn’t resist. And she didn’t look away. Her eyes bored into me, hungry and mature. It was like I’d aged her ten years and gave her horny Milf energy. All at once she was the older woman wanting to teach me the ways of a woman’s body. And I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t give a flying f*ck about lights or brain damage or even Soma. None of it mattered. She licked her lips and —

I kissed her. I don’t know why. Something about the voice. It was driving me crazy. And her hand on my crotch. And the horny highway I knew that was in her mind. She could get turned on easier than remember my name. And holy f*cking sh*t did I love that.

Gretchen (Gretch? It was growing on me) shoved her tongue down my throat, moaning as she melted into me like a cheap whor*. My first thought was that she needed a gentler touch, but then my second thought was that I could give her a gentler touch. I had that power. I could edit her. Revise her. It would take forever. Trial and error. Practice. Yes. More practice. And she could always end up braindead, but I could find someone else. Perla was still waiting for me. Yes. Anyone. I could get them and practice until I was ready for Io.

Practice made perfect, after all.

I broke the kiss. “You sure you don’t remember me, love?”

Gretch shook her head and licked her lips slightly. She looked so clueless. It made me want to bite her ear, to bend her over and make her moan, make her scream. God, I could do so many things with her.

What would Io look like with that vapid face? All that intelligence and nowhere for her snobby thoughts to go? God, I wondered if I could make it so she knew how stupid she was, so she could feel trapped behind her eyes and be unable to make her body do anything but give me pouty lips and slu*tty kisses.

“My name is ‘Lon,” I said. “I’m your girlfriend.” I pretended to look dejected but didn’t waste too much energy in the performance. I was, after all, dealing with a moron. “You’ve been dealing with some memory problems, and we brought you here to get some treatment. But I guess it didn’t work.”

Gretch didn’t look sad. She just looked confused, like I was using words far beyond her vocabulary. You know, big words like ‘treatment.’

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get you out of here. We’re staying at a hotel while you get help.”

I stood up, and Gretchen went with me, latching onto my arm. “Do you know where your clothes are?” She didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. We looked around for a while and found some skinny jeans and a t-shirt. There was a white lab coat, but I told her it belonged to a doctor. It probably did.

As we worked, I explained to Gretch that she had an accident at work that gave her a brain injury (I had to use very small words). That she lost her job and had one of her forgetting episodes. It happens from time to time, and when it does, it’s my job to remind her of who she is. I take care of her. I think she bought it. It didn’t really matter. She tried several times to undress and f*ck me, and while I let her finger me to one org*sm before we left, I didn’t give in the following three times she begged to lick my c*nt.

When we got off the elevator, there was shouting in the lobby. The doorman was talking to a police officer and the red-headed twins were sitting in handcuffs. One was looking pouty, but the other one seemed to be having an org*smic time with the restraints though her hair was soaked for some reason.

“What’s going on, officers?” I said. I sat Gretch down away from the scary people that talked in full sentences and made sure that my Aurora Flight patch was on clear display in case my superhero suit didn’t give me away.

The doorman explained that the twins had asked to use a bathroom while they waited for their ride. But instead of using the bathroom, they were f*cking wildly while one twin was practically drowning the other one. They said they both consented, and when the doorman tried to separate them, the stronger twin attacked him. He called the cops.

“I’m just getting his statement,” the officer said while pointing to the doorman, “before taking these girls to the station.”

“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” I said.

“Oh really?” The officer said. “And why not?”

I pointed to my Aurora Flight badge. “You’re about to get a visit from the rest of Aurora Flight. There was a crime upstairs in one of the penthouses. You should see the place. Looks like a wreck. These three,” I said pointing to all the women, “are witnesses. We need to speak with them.”

The officer hesitated, and before I thought better of it, I stepped into the Gray and swiped wildly at the bright lights in his mind. I stepped back out in time to see him stagger backwards, a look of confusion replacing his former look of suspicion. It took five minutes of bullsh*t to tell him to sit down, that he was having some kind of stroke, and send the doorman to call for an ambulance. The whole time, I knew I should have felt awful about it. But all I could feel was rage. Rage that this asshole wasn’t respecting me as a member of Aurora Flight even though I wasn’t Bastille, Surya, or Io. Rage that he was wasting my time. Rage that I had saved more lives in a week than he had in a month. And yet he couldn’t believe me. He couldn’t listen.

f*ck him.

And so I didn’t feel bad about doing the same to the doorman when he came back so he could forget we were ever there. Didn’t feel bad about taking the keys and freeing the redheads. And when they resisted coming with me and asked too many questions, I didn’t feel bad about cutting the threads in their minds either. I was more careful with them. I cut fewer lines, and simply reminded them that Soma wanted them to come with me. They recognized Gretch, and soon the three of them were following me out the door. And though I didn’t know where we were going, I knew for the first time in a long time what I was doing. I was taking charge. No Aurora Flight. No Soma. No one but me. And for now, that meant I needed these girls to come pay for some hotel room for the four of us.

Because I needed more practice.

Chapter 13: Gray Matter

Chapter Text

Korporeal

“The roof is clear,” I said into the comms before shifting back into a hawk and fluttering off the roof of the impressive downtown apartment building.

“No sign of anything?” Io said back. She was exasperated. Sometimes I wish I couldn’t understand human speech while in an animal form. Heck, I’d gladly take comms that didn’t follow my shapeshifting too. It would be great to be the one member of Aurora Flight that didn’t have someone barking at them all the time.

“Nothing a dog can smell or a hawk can see,” I said as I turned back into ‘myself’ after flying through a window and landing back in the penthouse. By ‘myself,’ today I meant a 6’5 Sudanese supermodel with rich ebony skin, a bald head, thin features, and a strikingly elegant face. Eyes like some prophetess that were unusually blue against my dark features. Most people found her amazing, but the truth was she was one of the winners on America’s Top Model twenty years ago. I took a lot of my looks from that season, but so far no one had caught on to my system. And if they had, they hadn’t confronted me.

The rest of Aurora Flight was waiting for me in the penthouse. We’d checked the warehouse already for any sign of the blue-haired woman that took Synapse. There wasn’t much to find. No trace of anything biological or prints. Only an eerie four-post bed in the middle of the abandoned warehouse with chains attached to each post. Io had done her best to find any clues, and she took samples of almost everything, but we were waiting for lab results. Crime scene investigation was slow. Painfully slow.

And we were losing our lead.

“I do not like the look of this place,” Bastille said in her French accent.

“No,” Io said, pacing around. The penthouse was a mess when we found it. More than ruined sheets, ripped clothes, and the obvious signs of a wild party. There was a treasure trove of kinky BDSM toys that felt in line with the chains on the bed in the warehouse. Now, I’m not one to kink shame, but some of this sh*t went beyond the playful and into the dark. And the hospital bed with straps built into it and the series of computer banks that weren’t quite put away didn’t make us feel any more comfortable.

Especially now that Eidolon was missing. She came here last, and then nothing. The tracker in her suit was gone. It must have been the blue-haired woman, grabbing another one of us.

“Looks like a party,” I said as I kicked a studded and massive dild*.

Surya held up a whip and several empty glass decanters of alcohol. “I don’t know if these two go together.” Then she smirked and turned to Bastille. “What do you think?”

Bastille blushed and turned away.

Those two were getting weird.

Honestly, everyone had been since our bust on Hauzer and that bitch’s “escape.”

“I’m going to check the front desk,” I said. “You all dust for fingerprints or something.”

“I’ll come with you,” Io said. “I can check their camera footage.”

I waved her off. “I got it. I doubt we’ll find anything. You look for … I dunno. Bugs or something in here. I imagine they’re probably watching us.”

“f*ck,” Io hissed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“It’s okay,” Surya said. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure. We all have been. How many hours a day have you been —”

I stepped into the elevator and let the dribble of them comforting Io leave me behind. Io wasn’t the only exhausted one. I’d spent hours each day flying over the city or crawling through its underbelly. But I’m sure Io scanning the internet with her powerful Google searches was exhausting.

I shifted into a shorter, curvier, blonde lingerie model before stepping off the elevator. An early 2000s Heidi Klum, if you must know. I just changed the face a bit to cover my total lack of originality. tit*, ass, and the Aurora Flight patch on my suit got me into the security room where I could look over footage with an overaged creep breathing down my neck.

But after five minutes and no computer skills, I was able to find the time that Eidolon should have been here. No footage in the penthouse, but I watched as she came out of the elevator with some hot and nervous nerd in broken glasses. Then a confrontation with the doorman and a police officer about some redheaded twins. And then Eidolon did her shadow thing and —

“Oh no,” I said, covering my mouth.

She didn’t step into a shadow. She did something … else? Something to the people. I watched the officer’s jaw go slack and his eyes softened. She did something to him. He was there, but all the confrontation was out of him and —

Something wet dripped on my neck.

I jumped and spun around, and the security officer creep was leaning over my shoulder, drooling on me … all slack-jawed and glassy eyed.

“Holy sh*t,” I whispered.

“Kori, we gotta go,” Io said in my comms. “We got a lead. I think I know exactly where the blue-haired woman is.”

I didn’t say anything as the security officer turned to me slowly like a zombie, still barely there. Then, slowly, he went back and rewound the footage, and I watched again as Eidolon did something to the minds of two strangers before taking the redheads with her.

“Kori? You there?” Io said. “Did you find anything?”

The security officer got a goofy grin on his stupid face and held up a finger to his lips. Then he rewound the footage, and I watched again as Eidolon stupefied two people before kidnapping two more.

“Kori? Anything on the cameras?” Io said in the comms. “Come on, we gotta go.”

I watched the footage again, and this time I focused on Eidolon’s face. She didn’t look scared. She looked pissed. Pissed and something else. Then the officer replayed it, and I watched the other women. They weren’t scared. They were happy to go with her. Giggling. Stupid. Willing.

“Kori?”

“One more time,” I said to the officer. He nodded slowly and replayed the footage. I watched Eidolon’s face. It wasn’t just rage. It was hunger. It was aching.

It was lust.

“What did you find?” Io asked again.

Eidolon wasn’t just taken. It was something else. Something had corrupted her. Like what happened when we lost Synapse. The blue-haired woman.

“Nothing,” I said into my comms. “I’ll be right there.”

Then I looked at the security officer, my breath ragged. “Play it one more time,” I said. “Please.”

***

Eidolon

“Hold her still, Gretch,” I said through gritted teeth. Gretch said something that was probably an apology, but I wasn’t sure. She muttered most of what she said because her bimbo voice had gotten on my nerves. Last time I heard her say ‘like’ seven times in one sentence I threatened to remove her ability to speak. She’s been quieter since then.

And more obedient.

For example, she knew to bring me girls, like this lovely Chinese woman I was fiddling with. Gretch went clubbing, made friends, made out with them, and brought them back here, to our little safehouse. A couple dozen security checks later, and then her friends became more practice.

Hopefully they would turn out better than the twins had.

“I said hold her,” I snapped. Sweat was dripping into my eyes, but I couldn’t free my hands to wipe it unless my bimbo assistant could keep the girl still. I would have to invest in a better apparatus for keeping trials still. I don’t think they felt me stepping into their minds, but I suppose the gaunt and pale woman flickering in and out of the shadows was terrifying enough to make them squirm. I just needed them to keep the lines still so I didn’t cut the wrong one.

Again.

As it was, stepping in and out of the Gray was exhausting. But I had to keep testing. Cut a strand, then ask questions, observe results. Step into the gray, tie the line back. Step out, observe results. Over and over. I still hadn’t figured out how to add personality or preference to someone in the way that Soma did. I could only cut away, and that wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t make Io beg to be my little slu*t just by cutting away at her personality. Besides, I didn’t want her to lose that spark in her eye. That condescension. That haughty arrogance. I wanted her to be at her full capacity when she begged to lick my c*nt. I wanted her to know how debased and disgusting she was becoming all for my amusem*nt. f*ck.

Focus, ‘Lon.

Besides, I was miles away from getting Io where I wanted her. I needed more practice, but I couldn’t figure out which was worse: the discovery that where I cut the strand changed the result meant that the puzzle was infinitely more complex than I originally thought or the fact that my weariness was making me sloppy.

“I said hold her the f*ck still!” I stepped out of the Gray in time to slap Gretch with my backhand.

And grumpy. Sloppy and grumpy.

Gretch staggered back, letting go of my practice, and I was just about to unleash another torrent of expletives when the power to my one safe place from Aurora Flight was cut. Darkness rushed around us, and despite my weariness, I stepped into the Gray, not wanting to be corporeal when I sensed danger. And I could see in the dark as long as I was in the Gray. It was a vision based on the absence of light, not on the presence of it. Whoever cut the power — assuming someone cut it, Jesus, ‘Lon, paranoid much? — didn’t know who they were dealing with. That meant they were an amateur. Or this had nothing to do with me. I was safe. I was safe. I was safe.

Because I knew Aurora Flight would hunt me down. I hadn’t done a good enough job of covering my tracks. Maybe for a while they would assume me going MIA was simply Soma kidnapping me or killing me. But eventually Io would find me. I couldn’t hide as well as Soma did. This building should have been secured. It never had a phone line connected to it, let alone Wi-Fi. I should have been invisible to her here, but I could have made a mistake. I wasn’t my best self lately. On edge. Tired. Horny. All of it —

The lights cut back on. Searing white illuminated the beautiful Chinese girl — maybe college aged — in a mini skirt and tight crop-top with platform heels. Gretch was in the corner, sobbing, and the glaring light made her German skin look even paler. Our room was bare except for the ironing board we strapped our practice subjects too. I didn’t need distraction. I didn’t need tools. I just needed practice — though a better table would have held the women still. And there, in the doorway, was a silhouette stepping into the bright light.

A silhouette with cobalt blue hair.

I shouted something and realized with dread that I had a voice. I was corporeal again. Of course. The light. I looked for a shadow to step into, but something was sliding towards me. It was a black and heavy disk, like a thick frisbee. It landed at my feet and opened up. Lamps unfurled from around it like flower petals, and all of them shot bright UV light directly at me. It was another trap. Just like how Soma caught me weeks ago. There was no shadow to step into, no Gray, no escape.

And before I could panic or cry out, a soft laugh filled the room. Not the laugh of Soma — the laugh that filled and thrilled my dreams. It was delicate. Girlish. And as she approached, the light illuminated the face of my good friend.

Synapse.

“I think it’s time we talk,” she said with a strange smirk on her face. One I’d never seen on her face, but still I’d seen it of late. In mirrors. In dreams. In the shadows. In the Gray.

***

Korporeal

“We’re one thousand feet above the safehouse,” Io said to us. “That should be out of range of most decent detection, though we could be wrong.”

“We’ve been wrong before,” Bastille said under her breath.

Io glared at her but didn’t say anything for a moment. She licked her lips, and then looked at me. “Kori, you go first and scout it out. I doubt a bird will show up to either of them.”

I nodded and held back my comment. What if I wanted to be a bat? No one seemed to ask what form I preferred to be.

“Then Surya will fly Bastille down when you give us the all-clear. I’ll stay here. If I’m out of range of this bitch’s powers, I can be the central communication between all of us. I’ve reconfigured the network. It’s more analog. You all talk to me, not each other.”

“That makes sense,” Surya said. “Though is separating wise?”

“No,” Io said. “We’re not going to make that mistake again. When Kori gives the all-clear, she’ll meet up with you. Whatever you three do, don’t get separated.”

“Sounds good,” I said. I turned to Bastille. “Finch? Blue jay? Robin? Cardinal?”

“Finch,” Bastille said. “Blue jays are little bastards.”

“Fair,” I said. I opened the door of the hoverjet as the wind ripped around us. I saluted the team with two fingers and plunged into the air, assuming the form of a finch before my feet left the platform. The wind had its way with me as I was caught in the hoverjet’s airstream, but then I found my balance and descended towards the safehouse Io had located.

Apparently she found it by not finding it. It was an absence on the grid, an old building that would be perfect to hide from her. It was in the middle of the city, so it was obscured by all the noise and overcrowding, but still, Io was good. The best.

Except we knew the blue-haired woman was better.

I still couldn’t believe I never got her name. I ate up that bullsh*t story about her being a famous actress, and somehow never asked her name? No. I couldn’t think straight when she was around. She mentioned that she had been in some adult films, and that was all I thought about. Not her in p*rn, but just p*rn in general. It was like every erotic film I’d seen in my entire life was flashing through my head. And then, I was wondering what it would be like to be in one of those films. I knew I could. I could be a sensation. Could any performer do what I did? I could be cast for any role, any scene. Any body type, fetish, kink. f*ck, I could even play the men if a producer wanted me to.

And right there, in the middle of a rescue with a hostage, all I could think about was sex. Sex I had in the past, sex I wanted to have in the future, and sex I could have been having, right there in the present. And then she was touching me, and it was all I wanted. Needed. I didn’t even think about Io or the mission. God help me, I even forgot all about Synapse. In that moment, my body took over. And I’d been there before — though normally with much much more tequila in my system. I’d been to that place where my body took over and my mind faded away. When you don’t care that you’ve never said a word to this guy, you just want his body. When you don’t care if he’s a good guy or married or can even spell. You just want his hands on you or in you. You need your clothes off and your skin touched.

But I wasn’t high or at a club. I was on the job. I was rescuing a hostage. Her life was in danger. My life was in danger. But her hands were better than anyone else. There was nothing like her touch. Trust me, I know now. I’ve been searching. Hunting. Picking up girls and going to kinkier and kinkier clubs. I’ve been looking for it, but it’s nowhere. Not in a dominatrix or a high-priced called girl. Not in Japan or the brothels of France. Nowhere. I can cum. I can f*ck. I can do all the things a slu*tty girl like me loves to do, but it’s just not the same.

It’s empty.

And now we’re going back to the start, back to the blue-haired woman that ruined me. And I don’t just mean the pounding she gave my ass and how I ached for days afterwards. I mean the touch that ruined every touch. I had searched the city and beyond for her, just like we were supposed to do. But it wasn’t the same. The specter of her touch wasn’t in any human hands.

But it was here. Now. In this safehouse.

I was coming home.

***

Eidolon

“Synapse?” I said. My voice was hoarse, and I hated the weakness in it. Too much shouting at Gretch. Not enough sleep.

“Synapse?” Gretch said from the corner. Synapse looked at her sadly, raised her hand, and my little bimbo passed out cold. Synapse walked over to the table, touched the head of my practice subject, and did the same thing to her.

“Practice subject?” Synapse said. She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “My, how you’ve fallen.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “And are you … are you …”

“No,” she said without breaking her gaze at the Chinese woman I’d been playing with. She tapped her forehead. “Just impressions. Nothing concrete. Barely even anything you would recognize as language. More like how you know someone is hungry when their stomach growls, but not like I know what they’re craving.”

She looked up at me and smirked again. “But I can pick up some words. The loud ones.” Chills ran up and down my spine. This wasn’t Synapse. This was Soma. Or something in between. It wasn’t the overwhelming dominance of Soma, but then again, I’d barely seen the blue-haired villain. Sure, she was sweet when she was seducing Kori, but then she was f*cking her hard. Then she was a monster. Synapse didn’t make me think monster. No. She made me think —

“Demon,” Synapse said. She laughed. “How appropriate considering my roots.” She looked at her hands as though her body was new, as though surprised to find she had flesh at all. I had to admit she had changed. Not just in her body posture or confidence — she moved through the room like a panther on the prowl. But her hair was longer. She was wearing dark lipstick and thick eyeliner. The Synapse I knew never bothered with makeup. It was a carry-over from her church-girl days. Something about vanity.

But she was also dressed in a way I’d never seen before. Tight black pants that looked expensive, but I couldn't tell what material they were made out of. Her top was made of black lace with a high neck, and long sleeves that turned into fingerless gloves. The bright light that had me trapped also showed that she had no bra on. A detail that I couldn’t —

“Shame shame,” Synapse said. “Dirty thoughts in the middle of your arrest.”

“Arrest?” The word brought me back to the present. My friend might have changed, but she was still a member of Aurora Flight. It didn’t matter how she escaped Soma. I had thought I could hide from them, but they found me. They were going to find me in a room with one woman strapped to an ironing board and another woman a brainless bimbo.

“She was a doctor,” Synapse said. She sighed and went over to Gretch. “Gretchen,” Synapse said as she bent down, placing her hand on the Gretch’s face. I never bothered to replace her broken glasses. I didn’t care how she saw, as long as she did what I asked her to do.

“What have you done?” Synapse looked from Gretch to me, her eyes narrowed. Her words were soft, but the disappointment in them was keen. No longer was she amused and bantering with me. I saw the flicker of my former friend’s face in shock and horror at what I’d managed.

“I … I … I …” Why were words failing me now? Was it the light? Or was it simply someone from my past. Perla and Gretch had to reconcile with what I was — what I was presenting to them. But Aurora Flight would have to reconcile with what I’d become. Especially Synapse. Maybe that was why I was hiding in this little fortress?

Synapse closed her eyes and put both her hands on the side of Gretch’s head, massaging my minion’s temples. “You’re a butcher,” she said. Again, her words were soft. I would have preferred if she was yelling at me, if she was punching me. Anything but this.

Synapse opened her eyes and let Gretch’s head slump back onto her shoulders. My blue-haired friend in black lace rose to her feet. At first it seemed like she was impossibly tall, but then I saw the thin stiletto heels forcing her onto her tiptoes.

“You need practice,” Synapse said. The softness in her voice was gone and replaced with a huskiness I recognized. She pointed to the Chinese woman — I really should have learned her name — strapped to the table. “And so you got some.”

I said nothing as Synapse clicked her tongue and moved towards my subject. She clicked her tongue and shook her head with disappointment, but this wasn’t the disappointment of a friend, it was more like a strict teacher disappointed with her favorite pupil. She put her hands on the Chinese woman’s forehead as she had done with Gretch.

“Gretchen,” Synapse said softly with her eyes closed. “I won’t correct you again.”

“Sorry,” I said. And though I felt guilty for a flickering second, that spark of shame was enough to ignite my rage. I didn’t owe anyone an apology, not even Synapse. She had spent her life messing with people’s heads. And now that I was learning the craft, she was disgusted with me? She was the only one allowed to play God? f*ck that. f*ck her. I was done with the bizarre morality games of this world. Not just Aurora Flight, but anyone. Everyone. We all pretended to be decent human beings, and then when no one was looking, we got away with whatever we could.

“Hm,” Synapse said as she let go of my test subject’s head. “That’s more like it.”

“What’s more like it?” I ground my teeth. “Cut out the omniscient goddess bullsh*t. It’s rude.”

“Now you care all of the sudden what’s rude and what’s not? What about the bizarre morality of this world?”

“f*ck.” I spat in her general direction. “You.”

“Poor ‘Lon,” she said, circling around me in the light trap. “So much anger.”

“Let me out and I’ll show you my anger.”

“I have no doubt you will.” I tried to follow Synapse as she spiraled around me like a hawk preparing to descend on her prey, but she lurked just out of my vision. I didn’t know how traps like these worked, why they didn’t just cut me off from the Gray but took away all mobility in my body as well. I should have been panicked by it. A member of Aurora Flight had me trapped. A potential minion of Soma had me. There were victims in the room. I was done. It was over. But it wasn’t fear or panic spreading through my body. It wasn’t even the anger flaring up from Synapse’s condescending tone.

It was something else.

Something warm and sticky.

Something slithering up my thighs and down my belly.

“But what do you have to be angry about now, little ghost?” Synapse said. “You used to hate the Gray. Now you’ve discovered it has more power than you could ever imagine. You hated that Aurora Flight rejected you and looked down on you — not just them, but the whole world — but now you reject the ‘bizarre morality of the world.’ You’ve found power, purpose, and freedom. Yet you’re still so angry. Why?”

“What did she do to you?” I asked.

“Who?”

“Soma.”

Synapse stopped circling. I tried again to twist my neck to see her, but it was as though the light tightened around me whenever I tried to move. And as the light’s grip on my skin intensified, so too did the tingling stickiness over my skin and between my legs.

f*ck.

“You’re playing with my senses,” I said. My voice was ragged and breathy. I barely stifled a moan, but I couldn’t hide my arousal. “Just like she does.” I bit my lip as the warmth centralized. All warmth fled my body except for the yummy heat between my legs.

Holy f*ck.

“I’m learning how she works. You should have seen what she did to Gretchen’s brain,” I said, proud to use the moron’s proper name and avoid any of Synapse’s ire. “I know I cut away too much, but I was just trying to cut out what Soma put in there. I can cut away her control over you.”

Synapse was silent. The overwhelming pleasure in my c*nt stopped building. It stayed at a steady thrum, taunting me. I knew she could give me more. She could give more than I could ever handle, more than I’d dare to ask for. I focused on the pleasure to cut off my thoughts. If she could read my plan — my only hope of escape — I’d just piss her off rather than convince her to let me out.

“This isn’t you, Synapse. You don’t talk this way to your friends. You’re not some alpha bitch. You’re my only friend in Aurora Flight — my only friend in the world.” I didn’t have to over act and lay the pity on thick in my voice. I wasn’t thinking at all. I was just talking. My thoughts were on my puss*, were on my desperate need to get my fingers there, to ease some of the building pressure inside me. “You are empathetic and loving. Gentle and nervous. A little shy but only because people suck. Not in the way I think they suck. In a genuine and compassionate way. You thought they were too much. Too loud. But you cared about them and —”

Synapse broke my moving speech with her sharp laughter. It wasn’t the wonderfully haunting laughter of Soma’s that haunted my dreams. Here, Synapse sounded young. She was. It was almost a giggle, all high-pitched and girlish. But it ran through my safehouse, riding the paralyzing beams of light, and running over my skin. It was the giggle of every high school bully bitch before she tore you apart in front of the whole school. It was the popular girl’s disbelief at how stupid you were. It was dozens of bad memories all at once. Questions about my pale, inhuman skin followed by that giggle. Questions about my flat chest or thin features, and then a gaggle of bimbos giggling in harmony. And all you want to do is hide in the shadows, but the light won’t let you. They can see you, and the light won’t let you. They all can see you, and the light won’t let you. The shame burns like the light. It lingers on the skin for weeks. It slumps the shoulders to create your own shadow, to slip away. But there isn’t enough darkness. Just light. More light. Too much light.

Light and warmth.

The tingling of skin and the relaxing of the scalp as the light danced over my soft skin. Warmth over my small breasts. My nipples stiffening at the sound of their giggles. My legs going weak. My thighs burning as they all see me shuffle away. The sound following me, running over my skin like light. Burning me up. Swallowing me.

I moaned like a whor* in heat.

I tried to arch my back, to get my fingers to my puss*, to run my hands over my breasts, but I was trapped by the light, and that just made me moan again. Moan louder. I was trapped. There was nowhere to hide. Synapse saw me truly. She saw that I was a monster. An angry monster. She saw my victims. My crimes. There was no way to hide it anymore. For years people thought I was a ghost, a demon, because of how my powers worked. And I thought being a hero could hide that from them. But they were right. I was a demon, and now Synapse saw me truly. I was trapped in her light, trapped by her laughter.

And f*ck, I wanted to cum.

“Soma doesn’t own me,” Synapse said. “Though I’m glad you can sense the change.” The clicking of her heels filled the room as she circled around me again.

“How does she do it?” I asked. “Is it just through sex?”

Synapse stood in front of me. Her cobalt-blue hair looked almost platinum with the burning light against it. The burning UV showed every curve of her breasts through the lace top. She was magnificent to behold. Like an angel. No. Like Lucifer. The angel of light turned devil.

Synapse shook her head. “No.” Her smirk appeared again on her dark lips. The smirk of every person who ever mocked me, ever made me feel dirty and small. The smirk of Soma.

The smirk of Io.

“Though you would be surprised how compelling arousal is to obedience.” Synapse reached out to me. Out for my puss*. And I wanted to run into her hand. To grip her wrist and hump her fingers wildly. But I couldn’t move. I could only watch as her hand approached, as it crossed the barrier of the light trap, as it cast a long shadow over my skin.

I didn’t hesitate.

Before the thought could appear in my mind, I stepped through the shadow — which never required me to move an inch of my body — and out of the light trap.

***

Korporeal

“The power has been cut to the building,” Io said as I approached the safehouse.

“There are lights on,” I thought into my comm. We couldn’t afford five telepathic linking comms, so I got the only one. It was better than squawking at the team.

“It’s a generator,” Io said. “Has to be. Can you check it out?”

I didn’t think at her, ‘Is that an order?’ Instead, I dutifully flew closer. If a generator was making this light, it was one hell of a generator. The light was brighter than anything I’d ever seen, like fluorescents on crack. Pure white beams flowed out of the windows and cast long shadows over the dark hallways.

I flew around the building three times, trying to get in every detail before calling in Surya and Bastille. My tiny bird heart was pounding and drowning out all sense of reason. On one hand, if they were with me, I was less likely to be found and trapped by the blue-haired woman. On the other hand, if they weren’t with me, I was likely to be found and f*cked by the blue-haired woman.

Decisions. Decisions.

I flew up onto the roof. “Looks clear so far,” I said. “Though it looks like all that light is coming from only one room. I don’t hear a generator, and that light is powerful.”

“Could be a super,” Surya said.

“Exactly,” I said.

“You think she’s got more villains under her control?” Bastille asked.

“Or a hero.” Io said. “Any other light supers besides you, Surya?”

“Lightlance is based in London. I doubt she’d go across the planet to recruit.”

“She’s been gone a long time. Plenty of time to build a team.”

Surya sighed into her comms. “Lightlance is also pretty weak.”

“But he could do this, right?” Io asked.

“Yeah. He could.”

“Let’s go,” Bastille said. “I want to be down there.”

“Fine,” Io said. “But be careful.”

In another moment, Surya and Bastille were with me on the roof, all of us about to explore the one room where the light was coming from.

***

Eidolon

I didn’t bother with a counterattack. There was still almost no shadow in the room, and I didn’t know how many more traps Synapse had. I stepped into the hallway and turned to run back into the darkness of the safehouse when my legs gave out.

And my knees.

Hands.

Feet.

“f*ck,” I gasped, but even my diaphram was slow and sluggish.

“Sorry,” Synapse said. “I can’t have you getting away with what you know now. Maybe I should show you what it feels like to be a pig at the butcher.”

“Into vengeance now?” I asked. It was stupid. I was wasting my breath on banter.

Synapse loomed over me, casting a shadow over me from the light pouring out of the room behind us, but I didn’t jump. Not yet. I tried to clear my mind. I focused on the panic of losing my limbs, of being trapped, of being lobotomized by my best friend.

“You could have practiced on animals,” she said.

“They can’t hold a good conversation.”

“Neither can Gretchen now.”

This would have been the perfect time for a condescending shrug of my shoulders. f*cking paralysis. I expected to see some cruel and disapproving look from Synapse staring down at me with the light haloing around her beautiful blue hair. But instead, it was the same amused smirk.

“f*ck,” I said, “you’re not mad at me, are you?”

Synapse shrugged. “Maybe annoyed. But I can’t say I had a much kinder fate in store for her.”

A shiver ran down my body. “What the f*ck happened to you?”

“I shouted down my better angels.”

I wrinkled my face in confusion long enough for her to tilt her head back and laugh, closing her eyes.

I stepped through her shadow and down the corridor out of her abrasive UV light. I was in the Gray, about to round the corner and get the f*ck out of this deathtrap when it felt like a leash around my neck yanked me back. I fell onto my back, out of the Gray, but still in the dark.

Synapse clicked her tongue. “I haven’t got to play with many supers, but if you keep that up, I’ll understand how your power works and shut it off forever.”

“f*ck you,” I said. I wheezed. It felt like ten tons were on my chest, crushing me and making it impossible to breathe.

“Ooh, hard to breathe?”

“F-F-F-”

Synapse giggled again. And f*ck me if it didn’t turn me on. Was she giving me some kind of humiliation fetish? f*ck her very much, I think we can call that working for Io for years. Jesus, f*ck, I needed to get out of here. I needed to breathe.

I needed to cum.

I knew she was right — that if I kept stepping into the shadows, she’d figure out how my powers worked and ruin me with it. But I needed to breathe. There was the whirring of something outside the building? A helicopter? Had the idiot police somehow found this place? I stepped into the Gray and immediately stepped out around the corner. I made a big f*cking noise, and then stepped back into the Gray, rushing through Synapse and —

I froze.

There, in the middle of the hallway, in the Gray, Synapse’s mind was like a goddamn beacon lighting up the room. Her brain was shadowed and hidden like Gretchen’s or the twins. It was a disco ball letting its rays of light sparkle all over the hallway. No. That makes it sound cheap. It was like a diamond the size of her brain that was filled with a tiny sun. It was the loveliest thing I’d ever seen.

I stepped out of the Gray and resisted the urge to fall to my knees. “What are you?” I whispered. I didn’t bother to hide the awe in my voice. I don’t think I could have managed it. If all my other test subjects had brains like cities, they were smallfry stuff. Knoxville, Durham, Hoboken. f*ck. Places plenty of people lived but no one heard of it. Scattered lights. Dim Constellations. Synapse was New York City. She was Vegas or Dubai. She was a tightly swirling galaxy compared to their boring cities. She was a supernova.

But Synapse didn’t answer my question. Not with her mouth anyways. She reached out with her mind, and I felt her seize me once more. The weight was back on my chest. My limbs were frozen under her control. The warmth was back between my legs as I ached to be restrained. I was the bitch that no wall could keep out, but I just wanted to be held down. To be pinned and —

“f*ck,” I hissed before stepping into the Gray. I was blinded immediately with the marvel of Synapse’s mind. But I wasn’t planning to stay. I flickered back into my body immediately, and Synapse didn’t hesitate. She seized me again, but she didn’t press.

“Hold still,” she said. Her hands were on her hips as she pouted, but she didn’t make me laugh. There was nothing amusing about what she could do to me. Nothing amusing about what my body wanted her to do to me. Nothing amusing about what that miraculous mind was capable of.

“Stalemate,” I said. I stepped back and lifted my fists. Neither of us were fighters, but if it came to that, I liked my chances. Synapse was tough but she didn’t have the cruelty to —

Synapse drew a long and curved knife from a sheath on her thigh. She didn’t hold it like an amateur. “No. Keep flickering, and I’ll have you. You can’t hold out forever.”

“I don’t have to,” I said. “You hear that?” I looked up, and Synapse’s eyes darted up. I could have tried to run again. I could have stepped into the Gray and tried to get the knife from her. I could have done a dozen things, but something in me told me that she wasn’t my enemy. Maybe it was something she put there. Maybe it was more goddamn mind games.

“They’re here,” I said, hoping it was true. Thinking with all my might that a hoverjet filled with Aurora Flight was a thousand feet above us.

“They. Not us.” Synapse’s smile widened. When her shoulder relaxed, I made my mode. I stepped into the Gray and feinted that I was moving at her, thinking as hard as I could that I wanted to grab that knife. But I was rushing past her. I was getting the f*ck out of here before the rest of Aurora Flight showed up and —

I became corporeal all at once. I tried to step into the Gray again, but my power didn’t answer my call. I panicked, but something strong grabbed my wrist, spun me, and slammed me into the wall of the dark hallway. I cried out in pain, but I was silenced immediately. At first I thought she was gagging me, but when the warmth between my legs turned to lightning, the pleasure burned white hot, and her tongue slipped past my lips, I knew.

Synapse was kissing me.

And before my brain could do a damn thing about it, my body was kissing her back.

***

Korporeal

I went first as a tarantula on the ceiling. Bastille and Surya were always a few feet behind me, waiting at each corner or door before I let them know things were safe. The entire building was blacked out except for that one room, which was a beacon of white light burning against the night.

“Uhhn,” someone moaned from down the hallway. I knew it was probably someone restrained, someone gagged and desperate. Hell, it could be someone being tortured. But even my tarantula body thrummed at the idea that it could be someone else. Knowing the blue-haired woman, it could be.

The moan — god, there really are two different kinds of moans, aren’t there? — was followed by another sound. Sounds. Something wet. Something sticky. Slapping. Clapping.

Oh god. f*cking.

Bastille and Surya were looking at each other nervously back around the corner. Were they suddenly shy? Or were they like me? Was this all too familiar? Were they haunted by the delightful dreams they’ve been having since the last time they hunted down the blue-haired woman in a dark building.

“f*ck, yes,” someone shouted across the building. “There. There. Right. f*cking. There!”

“At least we know it’s consensual,” Surya whispered.

Bastille glared at her. Did she think Surya was being too flippant? Or was she thinking what I was thinking? That we didn’t know if anything could be consensual where the blue-haired woman was concerned. Because if it was, what the f*ck happened to us last time? Things we consented to? Things we wanted? Things we ached for?

“What?” Surya asked when Bastille wouldn’t stop glaring.

Bastille shook her head. “Let’s go,” she said as she pushed past Surya. Past me. Heading deeper into the darkness.

“Wait, let me lead,” I thought over the comms.

But Bastille ignored me.

“What’s going on?” Io asked over the comms.

But no one answered. We rounded the corner and saw a room overflowing with white light into our little hallway of darkness. But it wasn’t just the light that spilled out. The noise flowed out of there too.

It was time.

***

Eidolon

I melted into her. Like her lips were the Gray, a world only I could slip into. No. Not the Gray. The Gray was depressing and colorless. A world like it. Where anything was possible. Where everything was free. Not quite the opposite of the Gray, but definitely the opposite of the light trap.

The Dark.

Her lips were the Dark that I could step into now. Dark like her lips. Like the lace clinging to her body. Like the shadows cast over us now. I wanted to stay there, to step into her world and never leave it. There was only warmth there, like the center of the world. Darkness and heat. Death and lava. Shadow and lust. My body was brimming with desire, and my c*nt ached to be touched, to be … anything.

But Synapse broke the kiss. She pulled back, and both our chests heaved. I would say it was passion building between us. But it wasn’t quite that. It wasn’t even desire. It was more like hate. More like anger under my skin. But I didn’t want to punch a wall. I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to pin her against a wall. I wanted to make her moan.

“Not now,” Synapse said. She looked up as she stepped back. “We’re out of time.”

“What about …” I didn’t know where the sentence was going. What about me? What about my victims in the other room? What about us? What about Aurora Flight? What about the Darkness budding between us?

“I’m going to rule the world one day,” Synapse said. All her flirtation was gone. She wasn’t the disappointed friend or the amused villainess. She said it as plainly as some people say they’re going to college to be a doctor. She looked into my eyes, and with the light haloing around her and blinding me, her eyes looked black. Another Darkness I wish I could step into.

“It’s my destiny,” she said. “I’m not from this planet, and I was sent to conquer it.”

I knew she was saying words, but I wasn’t processing them at all. She kept talking quickly. Something about Soma looking for her, being one of her people. Something about them being conquerors. Something about their brains. But all I could think about was how she was going to leave me. Again. First Soma, then her.

“You can come with me,” Synapse said, as if she could read my mind. I mean, of course she could read my mind. f*ck. Was she the one making my brain fuzzy? Or was it one stupid kiss?

She grabbed my hand. It wasn’t calculated or professional. Or if it was, it was acted perfectly. It was the primal human ache to have their hand grabbed, so that you don’t get left behind. So that they take you with them this time. “You can be one of my lieutenants in the new world,” she said.

But the word broke her spell.

My.

I let go of her hand and tried to step back before remembering there was a wall behind me. I could run down the hallway, but I couldn’t stay in the light and keep a safe distance between us.

I shook my head slowly. “No one rules me now.” I brought my hand to my chest and cradled it, as if trying to protect the memory of her touch. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”

Synapse didn’t look shocked. f*cking mind-readers. “Are you going to stop me?”

I suppressed a laugh. How could I stop her? She could cut off my access to my powers. I could maybe run for a long time, but could I fight her? Would I even be able to slice away the strands of her mind in the Gray?

I shook my head again. “Leave me a slice of your world, and I’ll be fine. I don’t care about the rest.”

Synapse put her hands on her hip. “Are we negotiating now?”

“You’ll never catch me,” I said. “I could be the last being on the planet free of your control, but you can’t enter the Gray.”

“You hate the Gray.”

“Not so much anymore.” My voice was a whisper. I hated that I sounded weak. This should have been my moment of triumph. I thought that Soma would have been so proud of me, but that thought was ridiculous. I didn’t know her. She didn’t know me. And besides, she was with Synapse. No. No one would be proud of me. So I had to be proud of myself. That was it. I was going to be the one proud of myself.

“And I hate being owned more than the Gray,” I said. “That’s what I’ve learned these past few weeks.”

Synapse was quiet for a while. The hoverjet was still buzzing overhead. We didn’t have time. I imagined soon Kori would be snooping around as a snake or dung beetle to spy on us. Then Surya would blast down the walls, and we would be back in a holding cell in the Borealis. We could both pretend to have been brainwashed, which they would believe because of Soma’s powers.

“What slice do you want?” Synapse asked. I tried to look into her eyes, but again the burning light from behind her blinded me. I could only see the silhouette of her features as her dark lips curled into a smirk.

What slice of the world did I want? Australia? No. Too hot. Too bright. Somewhere dark and cold. But too North and the sun wouldn’t go down for months. Maybe I would follow that. I just wanted the parts of the world where the sun didn’t touch.

Who was I kidding? I didn’t want any land. I didn’t care for the world much at all. There was only one thing I wanted. One person that —

“Io,” Synapse said.

My mouth went dry. I nodded.

Synapse stepped closer and took my cradled hand. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know how you feel.”

I closed my eyes. Even in the shadows, I couldn’t look at her. “You do?”

“Mmmm,” Synapse said as she loomed over me. God, she was intimidating in these f*cking heels. The lace of her top was pressed up against me. I could run my fingers over it and feel her skin. I could rip it away and —

“It’s like that,” Synapse said. “But stronger.”

I nodded and pressed my head against hers, curling into her Darkness.

“Dark,” she said as she wrapped me in a hug. “Sticky.” She stroked her hand over my back, and it felt like I had no clothes on, like her fingertips could slip through the fabric and get right to me. “Hot.” Her hands roamed up and down, and where they touched, that Dark stickiness spread throughout me. “Thick.” The zipper slid away silently, but the warmth of her was spreading everywhere. “Cruel.” It was as though she was everywhere all at once. Everything. “Painful. God. So much pain.” Her hands went down my back. Down down down. It gripped my ass, that was suddenly bare. God, when did that happen? “But pain for who?” Synapse said before giving my ass a playful smack.

She pulled back with a mischievous grin. All at once she looked like my old friend, the one who would share glances and rolled eyes at Io’s random pontificating or Surya’s endless PR goals. But we weren’t on that team anymore. We had switched sides, but we were still friends.

“Or something more,” I said to myself, though I knew she would understand. She understood it all perfectly.

I ran my hands over the lace barely hiding Synapse’s skin. It felt like jamming my finger into an outlet. The electricity of her skin, of her, was intoxicating. I knew she was enhancing the touch, but I didn’t care. We didn’t have to play by anyone’s rules anymore. My hands went down her back to her ass, and I squeezed it back playfully.

“Not pain for me,” I said before pinching her ass. She yelped with delight, and we both laughed. And as the tension broke, I did the only thing that made sense to my body.

I pulled her down to kiss me and seal our deal.

***

Korporeal

I shifted back into a female form as we approached the room. I told myself it was to better prepare for a fight, it was so Surya and Bastille could see and spot me better, it was so I could shout and call for help.

But it was mostly so I could have a puss* again.

I didn’t know what form to take. I went with a reliable Japanese schoolgirl look with the pigtails and everything. I needed to be f*cked, and I didn’t care if my clothes showed that. If Bastille or Surya thought it was odd, they didn’t say anything. They were used to my choices appearing random instead of the hyper-intentionality I used when picking them.

I made eye contact with both of my teammates before we rounded the doorway into the room of light. Bastille would go first and provide cover for Surya. I would do … animal things. And then we would —

“f*ck. There. God. f*ck. How do you do that?” The moaning washed over us. The voice was familiar now that we were closer, but that didn’t make us feel better. This blue-haired woman was making mindless sex drones of people, and that … that …

Was that so bad?

Bastille counted to three, said “Going in,” over the comms, and rushed into the room. Surya rolled in after her, and I counted to three before following and —

A television.

That was it.

The room was empty except for a television on a small table. It was playing a video of … a video of …

“Is that Synapse?” Surya asked.

“And ‘Lon,” Bastille said.

It was the two of them f*cking wildly. I mean, wildly. They were both the mousiest members of Aurora Flight, but the things they were doing? Spanking. Biting. Moaning. Insulting. Slamming into walls. God, it looked like ‘Lon was … f*ck. Was she fingering her in the shadows?

We stood transfixed for too long. “What’s going on?” Io said. “Are you all okay? What’s with your bio readings?”

“Uh …” Surya said back over the comms.

We watched as our two teammates f*cked like whor*s. I don’t mean that as an insult. I mean like professionals. Like high priced courtesans or dominatrixes. They slammed into walls and found positions I had only read about. And it was in this room. They were covered in the burning white light and the dingy atmosphere. But it was earlier. Way earlier. We were too late.

“Look at this,” Bastille said. She pointed to the tabletop where a note was waiting for us:

Now I have them both.

Meet me at the Pierson Dock Warehouse 5 in one hour.

Or the next video will be of them killing each other.

xxx

Soma

“f*ck,” Surya said this. She grabbed the note and ran out of the room, tugging on Bastille to follow. “Come on.”

“What’s going on?” Io said. “What did you find?”

“You won’t like it,” Surya said. She rounded the corner with Bastille so they could both fly up to the hoverjet. We had to plan and prepare before crashing the warehouse and getting into another showdown with the blue-haired woman.

“Soma.”

I whispered the name now that I was alone. It was the name of the woman that had changed everything. Ruined? No. I couldn’t say that everything was ruined now. Even as I watched Synapse grab Eidolon’s hair and drag her mouth to Synapse’s puss*, I didn’t think we were ruined.

Or when I watched Eidolon finger Synapse’s ass.

Or when Synapse spanked Eidolon.

Or when Eidolon twisted Synapse’s nipples.

Or when there was giggling and moaning behind the camera.

Or when Eidolon queened Synapse’s face.

Or when Synapse sucked on Eidolon’s tiny tit* for what felt like forever.

Or when they f*cked each other to a blissful org*sm, as their foreheads glowed with sweat, as their bare chests heaved with pleasure and hunger, as their bodies curled into each other time and time again.

I didn’t think we were ruined when Io kept calling my name over the comms.

I didn’t think we were ruined when I took my comm out of my ears.

I didn’t think we were ruined when I slipped my hands under my tiny f*ck-me skirt and into my panties.

Chapter 14: Narcissism

Chapter Text

Soma

“You two have fun,” Soma said as Eidolon and Koritsu, formerly Synapse, stepped out of her control room in the basem*nt of the warehouse. The whole building was Koritsu’s design. They brought in contractors over the past few weeks so that the abandoned warehouse could become the perfect trap for Aurora Flight. Koritsu had her rooms, but Soma only needed one. Soundproof. Nearly indestructible. Cut off from the world. She was in her own universe. No cameras. No monitors. No speakers. No microphones. Nothing but her chair.

Koritsu would be her eyes and ears tonight.

When the door was closed and locked, Soma stood before her great and comfortable lounge chair and stretched slowly. She let her languid body go tight and relax, tight and relax, tight and relax. She wouldn’t be expending her power until later in the evening, but it wasn’t exertion she was worried about.

The people of Neoros are omnisexual, as she had told Koritsu before. And while she had cum plenty on this planet, most of that was simply the mechanics of domination. It was work. She was a conqueror, after all, so claiming minds and planets was what she did. But few people were truly aroused by going through the motions of their vocations. Soma could not honestly say that anything Gretchen, Lin, Maggie, or anything the other girls had done to her or for her truly turned her on.

But tonight? Tonight would be different.

Soma peeled off her leather jacket and tossed it to the floor. Her bra — a cruel human torture device — came off next with a sigh of relief. Then her boots, her socks, and her pants. Finally naked, she stretched once more, this time working more than her body. She checked into Eidolon’s mind and sensed the rage and lust burning in the gaunt girl’s body. Eidolon was a pleasant surprise that Koritsu had found, and while Soma thought it was a needless risk to involve a human or to agree to let that human free, it was Koritsu’s mistake to make. When the planet was conquered, Soma would go find Eidolon herself and break her or kill her. It didn’t matter. The people of Neoros did not leave a single mind unleashed when they took a planet. And Soma could not leave until Earth belonged to Koritsu entirely.

She had enjoyed the Eidolon’s furtive glances and nervous energy when they finally met. They didn’t have much time to talk — Koritsu had left a fun message in Soma’s name and now Aurora Flight was on their way. But Eidolon had so many questions she wanted to ask Soma. The alien could feel them burning under the ghost-girl’s skin. But they were clouded by an overwhelming lust. Eidolon simultaneously wanted to fall to her knees in front of Soma and kill Soma for making her feel weak and trapped.

Soma quite liked her.

But that would wait. She could plan how to break the human once the world was taken. For now, they had one major obstacle in front of them: Aurora Flight. Four super-powered humans that believed they were here to save Eidolon and Koritsu, but by the end of the night they would be slobbering and begging both women to f*ck them hard and dirty. They would devote themselves to their new mistresses — their new goddesses — and then Koritsu would have her first lieutenants. They would be her foothold into claiming the entire planet.

Soma left Eidolon’s body and plunged into Koritsu’s mind. She was delicate to try and not warn her apprentice of her presence. Compared to the rage and lust of Eidolon, Koritsu was a cool and calm pool of still water. She was running through her plans, double checking her traps and games, but there wasn’t a speck of nervousness in her body. She knew what she had to do. She knew how she was going to do it. All that was left now was to execute.

Soma sat in her lush armchair and permitted herself one wicked smile before closing her eyes. She saw through Koritsu’s eyes. Felt through Koritsu’s skin. Heard with Koritsu’s ears. And as Koritsu checked the room designed for Korporeal, the shapeshifter, the alarm went off letting them know that Aurora Flight was here. Soma’s fingers reached for her damp and aching puss* as she enjoyed the show she had been orchestrating for months.

This? This was what actually turned her on.

***

Korporeal

“We’re not splitting up this time,” Io said over the comms. I had already checked the warehouse as a bird and circled it as a mouse. There were no obvious holes in it, no way to sneak through. There was one door. Everything else was airtight.

“You coming in?” Surya asked. I could hear the nerves in her voice. f*ck, we were all nervous. We had fought a lot of bad ladies in our time, but this one had already taken two of our own. She had beaten us at least twice, but we were suspecting she’d been behind even more than that.

But more than anything, all of us except Io couldn’t forget what she did to us last time. I was happy to be in the body of a fly buzzing around the warehouse and trying not to be detected. If I was in my human form, I doubt I could have kept my hands away from my puss*.

“I have to,” Io said. “The entire thing is cut off from me. It looks like there might be one room with real technology to access, but it’s deep underground and on its own internal system. If I want to jack into that, I have to be inside.”

“But together?” Bastille asked. I couldn’t tell if she was hopeful or nervous. Maybe she and Surya were just like me, wondering if it was possible to go in one at a time so we could all get a turn with the blue-haired woman — Soma, as we’d learned her name was. I imagined most people would pay top dollar for some time alone with her, and we were going to give that up?

“It’s the only way to save ‘Lon and Synapse.”

Right. The job. Focus, Kori. You’re here to save lives, not get plowed like a stupid slu*t again.

I buzzed around the warehouse as Io landed the hover jet. Io, Surya, and Bastille came out, all of them looking nervous. Io’s short and tight black curls were in a cute little afro while her almost entirely white suit was zipped up the front. I always admired how the darkness of her skin contrasted with the starchy white of her suit. In some of our meetings, ‘Lon would bitch that Io’s suit was never practical for missions — it wasn’t subtle or stealthy. But the team agreed she looked damn good in it, and sometimes the post-mission photo-op did more for us than making the missions easier. Though that wasn’t something ‘Lon ever really understood.

Bastille was in her dark gray suit that gave off some battle-armor motifs with metal plates on her shoulders and over her torso. The armor wasn’t necessary as it was her skin that stopped bullets more than anything. And though she was destructible, her suit was not. So to save costs, we went with cheap materials for her, and she would go through one with almost every mission. Her beautiful and luscious blonde hair was up in a tight and professional bun, and her blue eyes gleamed when the lights of the Warehouse District caught them.

Surya was the last of them, and if ‘Lon thought Io’s suit was more fashion than practicality, then she had a whole lot to f*cking say about Surya’s suit. It was more of an fiery-orange and red bikini than a super-suit, which was fine because Surya looked more like an Indian lingerie model than she did a super-hero. Most of her choices were allegedly because her skin grew unbearably hot blasting things with the heat of the sun, but she knew how to press her tit* and ass out whenever cameras came clicking around. Her thick black hair was in a high ponytail to keep it off her neck and ideally prevent it from burning — though Surya never said officially if her powers did burn her or not. The only thing inhuman about her looks — besides the freakish perfection of her tight body coupled with killer curves — was her bright orange eyes.

And me? Well, no one really bothered suiting me up. I could make clothes appear as I changed my shape, and I had a simple suit if I needed the Aurora Flight badge to show off or for photo shoots. I had a slu*tty suit in case someone who wanted to f*ck me had a kink about f*cking a super-hero. I could have whatever I want. But on a job like this, I was mostly going to stick to animal forms, so clothing wasn’t paramount. Though of course, I could always put a sweater on this little fly if I wanted to. I just doubt anyone would appreciate it.

“You’re buzzing loudly,” Io said when the team finally reached me.

Not as loudly as your talking, I thought through the comms.

Io rolled her eyes. “Can’t you pick something quieter?”

I rolled all of my fly eyes back at her. I wished I could say the nerves were making Io catty. The fact was she was always a bitch, no matter how nervous she was. I flew in her direction, picked up momentum, and then turned into a tarantula. Still flying towards her, I landed all eight of my hairy legs on her shoulder. She didn’t shriek, but her entire body tensed as I got comfortable.

Better? I thought.

“f*ck you,” Io said. “You know I hate —”

“We don’t have time for this,” Surya whispered (though it sounded more like a hiss). “We only have forty-seven more minutes.”

“Plan?” Bastille asked.

“Kori first,” Io said. “We back her up. Me in back.”

“Me in back,” Surya said. “If they came from behind, you couldn’t —”

“We need your light,” Io said.

That will give us away, I thought.

“Let me be the back,” Bastille said.

“You’re our tank,” Io snapped.

And on we went. Of our forty-seven remaining minutes, we wasted five of them bickering about the order. Though personally, I didn’t need to stress about it. I was going first. If ‘Lon was here, she would go first as she could be practically invisible. But no one notices a fly or a spider creeping through their secret warehouse base. So though I would be slow (due to tiny bug limbs), I would be the scout. We settled on Surya in the back because she can take a punch and can even warn us with a light if they got her mouth or knocked her out. Bastille in front to take any traps. Io in the middle because she was a relatively useless and squishy bitch until we found computers for her to play with.

Bastille handled the huge and singular door to the warehouse. Then she stepped aside and let me buzz right in. Now, I don’t have time to explain how fly vision works — and honestly, I’m not a zoologist, though that would have been more useful than my modeling career — but they don’t have perfect night vision. My options were limited when it came to something that was practically invisible, saw perfectly in the dark, and didn’t creep out Io. So I buzzed along in the general gloom as we found that Io was right — there was practically no power in this building at all.

I had been braced for something like the last few bases we had busted. Something abandoned, cold, and vaguely industrial. Most super villains seemed to hire the same decorator, so we weren’t expecting a lot of variety in an old warehouse. But Soma had clearly been planning this for a long time as this warehouse felt more like someone had redesigned an old carnival fun house or made a haunted mansion or corn maze for Halloween.

This, of course, did nothing to calm our nerves.

This is f*cked up, I thought over the comms. But the rest of the team said nothing, not wanting to give us away. Io used the faint glow of repeated electromagnetic pulses to let the others see, but I was way ahead of them, trying to find traps or corridors in the dark. It should be known that looking thoroughly for a trap is hard for a fly. We’re tiny, and what a human body can search in ten seconds, a fly body will need a minute or ten.

The way splits into three up here. I held my little fly breath. This was the part in horror movies when the morons suggest splitting up. Now, we weren’t a bunch of stupid and horny teenagers in your classic horror movie. We were, however, a bunch of horny superheroes all hoping to find Soma first — and alone.

“Let’s split up,” Bastille whispered.

Io shook her head. “Not again.”

“We can’t check each path,” Bastille said. “Time is of the essence. Isn’t that right, Surya?” She nudged the Indian sun goddess with her elbow.

“What? Huh? Um …” She looked at me, and I turned back into a beautiful and slu*tty blonde in an all leather catsuit. I nodded at her. She took a deep breath. We all knew why we were here. Maybe Io was the only one here trying to only save Synapse and ‘Lon.

“It’s okay,” I mouthed. This was it. We had been going through the motions of the hero business so far. But this would be the moment of no return. The final threshold. I grabbed her hand, and Bastille grabbed the other. In the end — in our last moments — our team became a sisterhood. We didn’t approve, but we understood. We didn’t like it, but we accepted it. And if we were going to walk into the dark, we would go together — and by that, I mean alone. How else would the darkness find us?

“Yeah.” Surya nodded slowly before turning to Io. “Let’s split up.”

“I’ll go with Surya,” Bastille said.

“That’s too much power in one place,” Io said.

But Bastille and Surya were already taking the right path. “No time to debate,” Bastille shouted back.

“Keep your voice down!” Io hissed after them.

“Will do!” Surya shouted back. And before they slipped into the darkness and out of our eyesight, laughing together like schoolgirls, Bastille slipped her hand into Surya’s. Surya gripped it tight, and let a little bit of burning white light glow between them.

And I think I heard Bastille let out a whimpering moan before they faded away.

“Those two are going to get Synapse killed,” Io muttered to herself.

“And ‘Lon,” I said. “Don’t forget about ‘Lon.”

Io let the blue light on her hands glow brighter. “Yeah, whatever,” she said. “Which do you want, straight or left?”

“Well, I never wanted the straight path,” I said. It was an old joke, but I could never resist making it. Besides, it always made me smile, and I could use anything to help settle my nerves.

“Be careful,” Io said. “I … uh …”

“Hey, are you okay?” Her hands were shaking, making the blue light she gave off vibrate over the walls like a cheap and lame club where I would definitely f*ck in the bathroom.

“Uh … yeah.” Though her voice betrayed her.

“Just call me on the comms if anything happens. I’m the fastest of all three.”

“Don’t get lost.”

I tapped my nose and let it change into an elephant’s trunk. “An elephant never forgets.”

Io let out a chuckle. “Sure.”

“Listen, I know you’re the weakest of us four, and if this Soma lady comes for you, there won’t be much you’ll be able to do it —”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better? Jesus. Worst pep talk —”

“It’s okay to just let it happen,” I said.

“Excuse me?” She stepped back away from me like I was about to explode. “What did you just say?”

“We know she doesn’t want to kill any of us,” I said. “Just let it happen. Worst case scenario, we’ll free you as soon as we find you.”

“What if by splitting us up she’s —”

“Time is really of the essence,” I said. “Let’s go.” I headed down the path to the left without looking at her. Io was the only one of us who hadn’t been compromised last time we went after Soma. And honestly, the girl could use a good f*cking. And what I said was true. We were already going to have to un-brainwash ‘Lon and Synapse — assuming any of us wanted to un-brainwash anyone else. What would be one more member of Aurora Flight to un-brainwash?

And that was the thought I clung to as I maneuvered through the dark corridors with no light. How bad would it be if one more member of Aurora Flight joined Soma? My body was back in that bunker weeks ago, finding a beautiful blue-haired hostage, feeling her hands on her thighs, sinking into her words, changing shapes as she f*cked me harder than I’d ever been f*cked before.

“f*ck,” I sighed. I knew I should have been afraid. Even to give into a villain, to lose control again, on some level, I should have been petrified. But it felt like I was high. My whole body was fuzzy and tingly. All it could think about was the pleasant memory of being defeated by Soma last time.

How bad would it be if one more member of Aurora Flight joined Soma?

I gave myself some cat eyes to better see in the dark, but I didn’t want to be in some insect’s body at this point. When I say my classic slu*tty blonde, you need to think of every Instagram influencer with the tiny waist, tight abs, freakish ass that was probably implants, and impressive breasts (because they are always showing off impressive cleavage) that is probably fake too. Hair that takes half the day and makeup that takes the other half. And it’s probably too much goddamn product all over the place. But me? It’s all ‘real.’ And instant. Wave and thick blonde curls in an instant. Tight leather catsuit with heeled boots — the kind of heel I could use to rob a bank if I needed to.

And yes, I left the zipper far down below my tit* to show off my impressive tit*.

“Catsuit and cat eyes,” I said to myself as I rounded another corner. The halls felt impossibly long. I must have wandered around the warehouse seven times. I wasn’t going slow anymore. No. If there was a trap, I was eager to let it find me. Though I did do plenty of sloping downwards, which made me terrified that I was going underground. How deep did this place go? I mean, f*ck, if I was going to have to go for a hike, I would not have chosen these goddamn and killer heels. I would have —

The darkness cleared up ahead into several points of tiny and blurry light. As I approached, I could see that the hallway was opening up into a larger room, and not one I could choose or not choose to enter. The only option was to turn back, and there was no way I was going to turn back.

The blurry lights became brighter and sharper as I approached, like stars in the dark showing their true form as you look at them through a telescope. I let my cat eyes adjust as more and more light washed over me and my slu*tty catsuit. There seemed to be dozens of lights, but some were hiding behind others, like there were sheets behind them. There could have been hundreds. The lights were on the floor and pointing up, but something was off about them. They didn’t shine in a cone like most beams of light. Something was twisting them on their way up and —

Mirrors. The lights were in front of mirrors. Dozens of them. Maybe more. Each set up all around me like a maze, and each of them with their own set of lights to show off what they reflected without blinding me.

I f*cking hated mirrors.

I was the girl who could be anything and anyone, but something about mirrors just … “f*ck,” I hissed as I approached the maze. I didn’t know how this Soma bitch knew I would go left, and I definitely didn’t know how she knew I hated mirrors. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe this wasn’t for me. But I felt certain it was made for me. My body tingled as I stepped out of the hallway and into the small entrance to the maze. The walls were lined with mirrors, and as I stepped in front of them, a beam of light turned on above me. Suddenly, I was surrounded by dozens of copies of slu*tty and blonde me in a catsuit. Each one of them looked terrified and confused. Each one of them looked fake. I could always see the flaws in my forms, even if others couldn’t. The tit* were too big. The eyes were too dark. The hips didn’t flare enough. I was playing dress up at being a real girl.

And the buzzing all over my body wouldn’t stop.

I approached one of the mirrors and edited my body as I did. Fixed the tit* and eyes. Flared the hips and plumped the lips. I plumped them too much, so I had to cut back. I could never find the balance between flawless Angelina Jolie lips and some forty-year old mom going through a midlife crisis that injected too much lip filler. I could spend hours tinkering, trying to get it right, trying to pass as someone else. That’s why I hated mirrors.

I decided I couldn’t spend all day trying to look perfect and moved on into the maze. I passed row upon row of copies of myself. I knew I should have turned into something safer than a blonde sexbomb. A gorilla, probably. But I didn’t want to walk past dozens of gorillas. Looking at myself while an animal was much more triggering than seeing the flaws in my human form. Besides, I had already chosen the dangerous path: I’d gone alone in heels I could barely run in. This was obviously a trap. Soma would have the jump on me, and I’d made peace with that.

In fact, I had been hoping for it.

The maze didn’t split into different directions. It was more of a labyrinth than a maze, winding and cirling towards some destination I couldn’t see. The eyes of dozens of nervous Korporeals followed me as I went. Their glances danced back and forth along the corridors, when all I wanted was one of them to tell me things were going to be okay. I needed one of them to be brave, to say that I wasn’t throwing away my life because I was horny.

But god, I was f*cking horny.

The tingling that ran along my skin had turned into a full-blown buzzing like someone had a vibrator against my nipples and cl*t. Well, maybe not like that. If that had been the case, I’d be on the floor and touching myself. But it made me wish I had a vibrator. It made me wish Soma would find me sprawled on the floor with my catsuit ripped to shreds, legs spread, and a vibrator between my legs. I’d be embarrassed, but no more embarrassed than watching all the copies of myself as I walked through the maze. My life could be in mortal danger, and all I could focus on was how I had made the ass too big. I looked like a dozen warnings against plastic surgery, not some sexbomb.

I rounded the corner and froze as the maze changed dramatically. This time I wasn’t facing a dozen poorly rendered sexbombs. I was looking at me but not me. Dozens of copies of myself — all the different forms I’d ever taken. A beautiful pale skinned girl with dark-brown and curly hair with full red lips and an elegant nose that was a bit too small. A dark-skinned and bald woman with a nose-ring and large, captivating eyes and ears that were too big. A beautiful and curvy Latina woman with long and silky black hair and rich purple lips but her eyelashes looked fake and cheap.

It was a hallway of my failures. I moved through it quickly, trying not to focus on them. It was a gallery of my inadequacy. Not just my failures as an artist to create beautiful and flawless bodies, but my failure as a person to be beautiful myself. Even with all the power I had — perfect body change, clothing change, language acquisition, posture, culture, makeup — I couldn’t get it right. I couldn’t make a person without a flaw. And these forms were a monument to my weakness. It was all the forms I had taken to hide from my —

There I was.

There I was.

At the end of the hallway was one mirror standing by itself in a darkened room. The end of the maze. The time to face myself. A mousy Korean girl with almond shaped eyes and pale skin. She looked frail and weak; I looked frail and weak. I guess I was. With my small breasts and lack of hips. People thought I looked like a boy. And my student pageboy haircut that I thought was so hip didn’t help. I was a sick girl. Asthma. Always getting strep throat. Getting the flu two or three times a year, even after getting the vaccine each year. I spent half my childhood in bed watching sh*tty TV. America’s Next Top Model. Project Runway. Even though she was adult-me, she was wearing an oversized version of my middle-school uniform — a brown and white plaid jumper that looked good on absolutely no one.

But as I looked at her sad and pathetic face, all the dread in my body faded. I was suddenly flooded with a serene and overwhelming peace. For all of her flaws, none of them were my fault. Even the haircut was something my mother forced on me more than something I did to myself. Unlike the blonde bimbo I was wearing, little Kori was innocent. She didn’t make herself. But the flaws in the blonde were my fault. I couldn’t make an ass the right size, the ones I saw on American’s Next Top Model and Project Runway.

I smiled, and she smiled back. As I stepped closer, I let all my pretenses fall away. With each step I was no longer white, no longer blonde, no longer tall, no longer in a catsuit. By the time I was close enough to touch her, I imagined I was her spitting image, though I kept my Aurora Flight suit instead of the cringy jumper.

The buzzing over my cl*t and nipples spread over my whole body. It wasn’t like a vibrator. It was like fingertips. It was like sunlight. It was the warmth of the universe, holding me and telling me everything was going to be okay.

Everything is going to be okay. My reflection’s lips moved, mouthing the words, but I heard it in my head. In her voice — our voice.

“Everything is going to be okay,” I said back. She lifted a hand against the glass of the mirror, and I stepped closer, pressing my hand against hers.

But I didn’t feel mirror.

I didn’t feel glass.

I felt skin.

Her skin.

My skin.

She smiled as she sensed my touch, and I smiled back, chuckling to myself with delight. I tried to curl my fingers and grab her hand, but I couldn't. There was still something between us. But there was skin there. She wasn’t just a reflection. She was me. Me. In the glass.

“Are you trapped?” I said to her. She mouthed the words back to me, but no sound came out.

“I think I am,” I said in response to her question — my question. I tried not to worry about the insanity of it all.

“Me too,” I said and giggled as she said it back to me. She was nervous and a little gawky, but there was still something irrevocably sweet about her. Something tender and innocent that I wanted to protect. It’s like she was my in body, but not in mind. She hadn’t walked through the hall of her failures — both her failure to be perfect and her failure to be confident.

I felt a sudden surge of love for her. One I hadn’t been able to manage my whole life. And as I ached to hold her, to hug her and tell her how proud of her I am, I raged at the glass keeping us apart, the mirror keeping me from myself.

And then, like an echo taking days to bounce back to my ears, the lust returned to me. The throbbing need between my legs as I walked through the hall of mirrors transformed. This wasn’t the “OMG what a hot f*cking guy, I want him to split me in two” kind of lust. This was the “I want to hold her and kiss every part of her body” kind of lust.

The thought cut through me clear and clean. I didn’t hesitate. If her fingertips were real, then so was the rest of her skin. I could kiss every part of her skin. I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips against the glass of the mirror, and she pressed her lips against mine. But it wasn’t glass. It wasn't a mirror. It was flesh. It was soft and sensual. It was wet and hungry. It was lips. It was a kiss. A real kiss. Every part of my body knew. Her body knew. We knew. The kind of kiss that sends sparks through every inch of your body. The first kiss with a love long unrequited. The hunger of being unable to keep your lips off a body. The fiery kiss of trying to devour the other person. The gentle kiss of whispering without air, of praying without words.

And both of us moaned into it.

The glass fogged up, but I didn’t need to see her anymore. I felt her lips on mine. I felt her hand against mine. I knew my body, and it knew me. We pressed against the glass hard, and I shifted as I moved, matching her body, naked and vulnerable. My breasts pressed against her. My nipples against her. My piercings against hers.

And if the kiss was sparks, the piercings rubbing against each other was lightning. It was standing at the center of an electrical storm and holding up a lightning rod, drinking in each volt the way Surya drank in the sun. Our moans became shrieks, and I wanted more. I wanted to feel her everywhere. Not just lips against lips or tit* against tit*. I wanted to lick her neck, but it wouldn’t press against the glass. I wanted to feel her inside me, but I couldn’t break through the mirror. I wanted to taste her c*nt — almost certainly dripping like mine — but I couldn’t sink to my knees without her doing the same.

“Please,” we said to each other, praying to the only woman who could hear us and the only one who couldn’t help. “Please, I need it,” she said to me. And I knew what she meant, what she needed. I sank to my knees, and I expected her to mimic me. I expected us to kiss each other all the way down to our knees and then cry out then no glistening puss* was in front of our eager lips.

But instead, she shifted again to a form I didn’t recognize. Tan skin and lithe legs in stunning black heels with sharp points. And now in front of me wasn’t my own eager puss*, but a smooth puss* with faint blue hairs adorning it.

Cobalt blue.

But my brain was subdued by my need, and my body knew exactly what to do. It made sense to me. I had chosen the form of the blue-haired woman — Soma. I wanted her. I needed her. No one had taken me like her. No one had broken me. And now she was healing me. She was taking me back to my real body. Not just the shy little girl that was lanky and flat. But her. My true form was found in her.

“Yes,” she said to me, and I felt someone reaching out and stroking my hair. “Your true form is me.”

I purred and pressed my head against her thigh, eager to be buried in her puss*, but not wanting to rush it. Not wanting to scare off the nervous and shy version of myself. She needed to be disguised as Soma. She needed to still play dressup to make love to herself.

But as I pressed my head against her thigh, I felt the weight of a head against my own thigh. But it didn’t match the mirror — I checked. There was no one there. In fact, there was no mirror at all. My Soma-self had stepped out of the glass and now she was with me. The fog of our kiss — of our moan — had granted our wish and removed the barrier between us. Now there was nothing left but each other.

“Make love to yourself,” she whispered to me. And I was too eager to obey. I had taken countless people to bed, but never a lover. Never myself. Never like this. Never in the dark when my appearance didn’t matter. Never in front of a maze of mirrors when all that mattered was my appearance.

I glanced around us and saw the echoes of former lies — former imperfections — staring at me. They didn’t match me anymore. They watched ominously as I pressed my head against my Soma-self’s thigh. They gave me their blessing. They watched on with envy, with aching for the freedom that serving myself would give.

“You’re free of them,” the blue-haired goddess said to me. She put her hand on the back of my head. “Now serve.”

And I obeyed.

But when I gave the first tentative lick to her slick puss*, I didn’t just taste her — didn’t just taste myself. I felt her tongue — my tongue — against my own puss*. And when I pulled away to gasp with pleasure and delight, she stopped licking me too. When I leaned back in for another taste, so did she. And her tongue was my tongue. And her puss* was my puss*. And as I leaned into her, I leaned into myself. I gave into my lust — our lust — and stoked my own flame while I tended her fire. I serviced myself, matching the pacing and pressure that delighted me. When I tired of small circles with the tongue around my cl*t, I tended to the lips with long licks along the stretch of my folds. Then my tongue went as deep as it could and licked up, plundering the caverns of my own puss*. Then back to my cl*t, sending jolts of white hot pleasure through our body, burning us up.

As I serviced myself, I gave into the Soma-self. I felt myself change form, matching the blue-hair I had fantasized about a dozen times. I matched the tan skin and the texture of her puss*. And as I looked up to match the details of her face, I staggered back in surprise at what I saw.

It wasn’t Soma.

“Synapse?” I whispered.

My friend and teammate was nothing like the nervous empath I’d last seen. She was lithe and hungry, powerful in her heels and looming over me. Her hair was longer and cascaded over shoulders and half-way down her back with luscious waves. Her posture was intimidating and confident. She had gone from anxious introvert to absolute goddess. Her tan skin radiated power, and every inch of her demanded my attention and respect.

But then it struck me. This was Synapse as I had last seen her. Not breaking into Hauzer’s base weeks ago, but the video Soma had left for us in the safehouse — the one of Synapse and Eidolon f*cking. Synapse had pulled back Eidolon’s hair and thrust a massive strap-on into Eidolon. She had pinned the waifish girl down and ridden her. She had —

“My god,” I whispered.

“Goddess is more like it,” she said. Her voice wasn’t the sultry and irresistable husky of Soma. It was still the soft voice I had always known. But it wasn’t quavering or unsure of itself. It was like a siren’s whisper, luring me out onto the ocean and into the rocks to dash myself upon.

Without realizing it, I had shifted to match her, and two versions of Synapse resided in the hall of mirrors. One stood over the other, and I was the Synapse on my knees.

And I didn’t want to stand up.

“You’ve hated yourself for too long,” Synapse said. “I’ve felt it all the time in the forms you’ve taken, in the lovers you’ve brought into your room hoping they will make you right, that they will love you. Yet you know they are only loving a facade —an illusion.”

I nodded along. It was as though she was reading a transcript of my thoughts, and as they slowed down with the fuzziness of lust, it was more like she wasn’t just reading my thoughts but dictating them. As though her words preceded my thoughts, and I simply nodded along, giving in to her.

“But I can know you better than anyone else,” Synapse said. “Better than you can even know yourself. Come to me, Kori. Come and be known.”

I didn’t hesitate.

In a rush, I was back on my knees before her, pleasuring her puss* and feeling the same pleasant throb in myself. Everything I gave her, she gave back to me. I could truly only find myself in her. How else would I feel love? I couldn’t love myself, but I could love Synapse. And in doing so, I could feel the love of myself. I could sink deeper and deeper into her until I found myself. I wrapped my hands around her tight ass cheeks and buried my tongue as deep as it would go, and still deeper I felt my own tongue slide into me. Deep deep inside of her was my deepest self.

Just as I felt myself about to cum, about to release and finally float away on a cloud of bliss, she stepped back from me. I whimpered with need, and she shushed me gently. She pressed a hand against the darkness, and I heard a switch flip somewhere in the maze of mirrors. I heard a whir of machinery, and I looked around to see the dozens of mirrors making the walls of our tiny room move closer to me. They almost pressed up against me, only leaving a tiny space between me and the glass. It was a cage of my former selves, of my flaws.

“Touch them,” Synapse said from outside the cage. “They aren’t real.”

I reached out for them, and I expected to find glass again. But just like the image of my true form, I found flesh touching me — touching myself. But they didn’t match me. The glass pressed against me, and a dozen hands roamed over me. All of them flawed. All of them false. And when they reached between my legs to give me the sweet relief I hadn’t been able to get from my Synapse-self, I felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

I felt the fingers against my thighs and the skin of their arms. I felt the tickle of hair and the pressure against my puss*. I felt the mechanics of their flesh. But there was no pleasure. No eroticism. It was an empty touch, as though ghosts were trying to f*ck me.

“What?” I whispered as panic took hold of me. “What’s happening?”

“I told you,” Synapse said. One of the mirrors rolled backwards and away, and she stepped in front of my cage of empty lovers. “They aren’t real.”

“But …” I looked around, trying to find one that was hot, one that was good, one that was perfect. But they were all so broken. Noses that looked perfect, but I could see the slight crook in them. Eyes that were round and adorable but slightly too big. All of them slightly off. Just like me. Slightly off.

And yet, I couldn’t hate them for those flaws. As badly as I wanted to, there was only one flaw that was driving me crazy. They couldn’t touch me. They couldn’t get me off. They couldn’t f*ck me.

“Please,” I whimpered.

Synapse stepped back and flipped the switch. The mirrors rolled away again, and I was left alone in the dark. No mirrors. I let my body switch back to my real self — boring and plain. And as the click of Synapse’s heels approached, she stepped into a single beam of warm light in front of me.

“Please,” I said again. I should have been afraid of the trap. I should have been afraid of whatever was happening to my body — whatever was happening to my mind. But all I wanted in the world was to cum. The need was too strong. I was going to explode if she didn’t let me cum.

She nodded slowly, and my hands rushed to my puss*. I tried to utter thanks but it was stifled by the moan of relief that she was going to let me —

Nothing.

I felt nothing

“No,” I said as my own ghost fingers groped my puss*. Pressure, yes. Touch, yes. But it was just the mechanics. No sensation. No pleasure. It was as though whenever they touched my puss*, both my fingertips and puss* went numb. “No no no,” I said. I tried to finger myself, arching my back awkwardly to try and reach in and find my g-spot. Nothing. No sensation. No pleasure. Just boring and dead flesh.

“No no no,” I said as tears streamed down my face. “Nonononononono.”

“Shhhh,” Synapse cooed as she squatted down to look into my eyes. She reached out and cupped my chin. “It’s not real. None of it’s real.”

“But … but it’s me.”

Synapse clicked her tongue and shook her head. “We both know you’re not real.”

And I nodded. I couldn’t even touch myself. I barely could recognize myself. I became whatever I looked at, whatever other people wanted and expected. I wasn’t a person. I was a mirror.

“But we know where to find you, don’t we?” Synapse whispered.

I nodded again. My throat burned from trying to fight back sobs. I couldn’t talk for the life of me.

Synapse stood up and stepped forward, bringing her puss* to my lips. Without hesitation, I went back to work, servicing her — serving myself. My motions were as empty and lifeless as my fingers, but as I worked, I felt my own tongue against my puss*. I brought my hands between my legs as I licked Synapse, but again there was nothing. I then ran them along Synapse’s c*nt and pressed them against her cl*t. Immediately, the sensation thrummed through my body.

I finally understood.

I worked quickly, bringing her — and therefore me — to a quick and powerful org*sm. I had no words to describe it. Synapse probably did because I didn’t feel it in my puss*. I felt it rippling throughout my body like every other org*sm, yes. But mostly I felt it building, building, building, in my nipples. It was as though my piercings were becoming their own little vibrators, like they were heating up and eating away at my brain.

“I do love those piercings,” Synapse said as the world was etched with pleasure and an approaching blackness.

She had all the words I needed then. I wasn’t real. I was more of a ghost than Eidolon. But I could find myself in her. I could be real when I served her. And that was all that I ever wanted. I wanted to be a real girl, to be seen and known. Synapse knew me better than myself. She held me from myself and gave me to myself.

And as the storming pleasure built, I knew what life would look like after this. I would be fake when I was away from Synapse. And when I needed to be real, I would come back to her. After all, we were both so close, so hungry. Not just to cum, but to find peace. I had to find myself, and it was hidden deep inside of Synapse.

And I was never going to leave her side again.