Written by murdough :: [Tuesday, 06 February 2007 14:30] Last updated by :: [Tuesday, 05 March 2013 14:37]
WRITTEN FOR SGI WORKSHOP 1.10
It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.
I had seen the reports on the news. Women from all walks of life suddenly gaining powers that rivaled those of Superman and Supergirl. Actresses. Singers. Cheerleaders. The girl next door. All of them had – without warning – became literal goddesses.
And it had been so easy to facilitate evidently. All one had to do was to log onto a website, post something about a particular woman, and bam, near instant supergirl.
I have to admit that the temptation was more than a little overwhelming.
So I took the chance. Because of me, five women I know have the power of gods.
Before we go any further, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Steve Masterson. My life is – or was – fairly mundane. I live in a small city in New Hampshire. I work at McDonald's. I pay my taxes. I go to college part time. I'm twenty-five years old. All my life, I have had a fascination with superwomen. When Supergirl first burst onto the scene several years ago, I had instantly fallen in love. Granted, I wasn't the only one, judging from the number of members of the message board in question. The idea of a young, beautiful woman who was totally impervious to harm. Who possessed near limitless physical power. For a guy like me, it seemed like an unattainable fantasy.
And then it all began to change.
Three months ago, news began to spread about celebrities inexplicably gaining immense power. Jessica Alba. Avril Lavigne. And – God help us – Paris Hilton. Coincidentally, all these instances occurred shortly after someone on the message board made mention of their wish that these women possessed superpowers. It wasn't too hard to make the connection.
After some thought, I decided to post on the board. I talked about several of my co-workers who I thought would make great superheroines. Women who I had been somewhat taken with. Mere fantasies.
Within days, I received a package in the mail. Inside were five items that looked for all the world like small flashlights. In addition to these devices, there was a letter, instructing me on how to use them. One per girl. In all honesty, I figured that it was some sort of scam. Still, I couldn't help but take a chance at it. I mean, what harm could there be?
So, one night, I brought one of the devices – a Transformatrix 4000 – to work. Just to see what would happen. By chance, a girl whom I had had a crush on for a very long time was also working that night. We had been friends up to that point, though I secretly wished that we were more. But that would probably never happen. She was dating another co-worker. A manager who I viewed as being a complete putz. She could do better I thought. Not with me. Someone better than either of us. At least that's how I saw it.
Her name was Claire Lewis. Nineteen of mixed English-Vietnamese descent, she was a vision of beauty in my eyes. Though somewhat short for my tastes, standing at only 5'3", she carried herself with a certain dignity. A strong, lovely face with deep brown eyes was framed by long dark hair, though she always kept it in a functional bun while on the clock. A slender figure with curves in the right places completed the package. I had been taken with her since the
moment I had first met her.
So that night, I saw her there, standing with her back to me as we took inventory. We were alone. Without thinking, I pulled the Transformatrix out of my pocket, aimed it at her back, and shined a beam of light on her. It only lasted a few seconds, Claire not noticing a thing. Nothing happened. Shaking my head, I put the device back in my pocket, silently cursing myself for my stupidity. I'd also been thankful that I hadn't spent any money on the damn things.
The rest of the night went by fairly uneventfully. I notice however something unusual about Claire. She seemed a little fatigued. More so than usual, given the insanity of our jobs. She also seemed to possess a voracious appetite, getting more than her usual salad when she went on her lunch break. Still, I didn't think anything of it.
Then she fainted. She'd been standing in the crew room, a look of distress on her face. By chance, I'd been there at the time. Without warning, she collapsed. I managed to catch her in time, cushioning her fall as I lowered her gently to the floor. What was happening? Was it because of that flashlight? Was I responsible?
"Claire?" I asked, my concern and panic growing. She was breathing. Thank god for that.
After what seemed like an eternity – though in reality, it had been only a few minutes – Claire slowly opened her eyes. Our gazes locked for a moment, the concern evident on my face and the confusion on hers. Slowly, I helped her to her feet. Absently, I noticed how … firmer her arms felt through her short sleeved shirt. Hell, it felt like her arms were made of warm steel. Then it hit me. Maybe it had worked.
I pushed that thought to the side as I helped her to a chair. She seemed none the worse for wear. Hell, she looked a little better than usual. Being a guy, I couldn't help but noticed that her whole body seemed … fitter … for lack of a better term. Her chest was certainly more noticeable.
"You okay?" I asked, moving a chair so that it would face her and sitting down.
"I think so," she replied, rubbing her temple with her right hand. Lowering it, she regarded my silently, her dark eyes boring into me. She'd obviously seen the panic and concern on my face a moment ago. Her expression was neutral for the most part, though I could see the corner of her mouth quirking up a little, like she was about to smile. She had a very nice smile.
"I'm okay Steve," she finally said, reaching over to gently pat my hand. "I just need some air. You can come if you want."
Standing, we made our way out of the crew room and towards one of the restaurant’s exits. Claire took the lead, grasping the handle firmly. At that moment, the immediate area was filled with the sound of distressed metal. Looking down, my eyes widened at what I saw.
Claire's slender hand was in the process of crushing the aluminum bar. Seemingly with no effort at that. Looking her in the face, our eyes once again locked. It was pretty clear that she was as shocked as I was. I opened my mouth, trying to say something. Anything that would be appropriate to this new development. This was my doing. I made her this way. God knows what she would do to me if and when she found out. Things would certainly change. I tried to think of something profound. All that came out were two simple words that seemed wholly appropriate.
"Well damn," I uttered, staring Claire in the eyes. Nothing else came out of my mouth for a few moments as I tried to process what had happened.
It worked. It had actually worked. Claire Lewis was now a superwoman. And I was responsible.
"Um … Steve?" she said, her tone of voice bordering on panic as she let go of the handle. She could probably tell that I was in a daze. I mean, Jesus Christ, she was a goddess.
Waving a hand in front of my eyes, she slapped me on the arm with the other. It felt like I'd been tackled from the side by a three hundred pound linebacker, the force of the blow causing me to stumble and fall several feet away. The air exploded from my lungs with the impact.
"Steve!" Claire gasped, clearly shocked by what she'd inadvertently done. In an instant, she was kneeling by my side, her expression having crossed the border into becoming one of panic. In retrospect, it was fortunate that we were the only two people in the restaurant by that point, having closed half an hour ago.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" she asked, fear and concern in her voice. She sat their on her heels, clearly afraid of touching me. I could only image what it must've been like for her at that moment. To be afraid of one's own strength. To think that you were a monster. At that moment, I regretted what I had done to her. I had caused her to gain these powers without asking her in the first place. What right had I had to make that choice?
"I'm alright," I responded, slowly gaining my bearings as I sat up. "Just a little winded is all." Once again, our gazes locked. Christ, she looked terrified. Terrified of herself. "Really," I said, reaching over to give her hand a gentle squeeze. Despite her strength, her hand felt no different than any other girls. We stayed like that for a moment before I remembered certain things. Her boyfriend for example.
"Right," I said, pulling my hand back. "Sorry." We weren't a couple, no matter how much I wanted to be. I was just some schlub she worked with. Maybe a friendly acquaintance. Nothing more. Shaking my head, I let out a short breath as I slowly got to my feet.
Maybe Claire had seen that look in my eye, or guessed what was meant by my expression. Still haven't found out for sure. In any case, she seemed to get over that fear of touching me.
"Here," she said, standing and gently grasping my upper arm. With zero effort on her part, she pulled me to my feet and then some. I found my feet dangling a few inches off the floor, totally supported by the pale, slender hand gripping my arm. I'm pretty damn sure that surprised her, given how weightless my two hundred and forty pounds must've felt to her.
She held me aloft for a good two minutes before I finally spoke.
"Well," I began, taking on a casual tone, "this is … interesting. While it wouldn't bother me too much to stay like this all night, we still have a few things to do before we can get out of here."
"Oh, right," she said, gently lowering me to my feet. "Sorry." Taking a step back, she looked away, her cheeks taking on a rosy tint. She was actually blushing. The resident ice queen. It was certainly becoming an interesting night, to say the least.
"I … um … I want to try something," Claire said after a moment, looking at me again. I was about to respond when without warning, she vanished. Well, not so much vanished. In actuality, she was moving so fast that I couldn't follow her. I did feel a strong breeze around me though.
I watched in wonder as chairs were tabled, dishes were washed, the floor was swept, and every other task completed near instantaneously. It had probably taken no more than a few seconds.
As suddenly as she had vanished, Claire reappeared in front of me. She was no longer in her uniform, having changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. In her street clothes, I had a better look at the changes in her body. While she'd always been pretty slender – in the time I had known her – she'd never possessed much muscular definition. That had definately changed tonight. Her bare arms looked like they belonged on a fitness competitor. A hard six pack was visible through the inch of skin between the hem of her shirt and the waist of her jeans. And as a guy, I gotta say that said jeans encased one of the best rears I'd ever seen.
I stood there speechless, my body running on automatic as I caught my jacket and knapsack, which she had tossed me. "Uh … thanks," I said, pulling on the jacket. I usually stayed in uniform after work, given that I usually headed straight home.
Shaking my head, I exited the restaurant with Claire after she'd killed the lights and set the alarm. We had both driven to work that night, so I figured we'd part ways in the parking lot, as usual. Walking to my car, I was about to pull out my keys when her voice caused me to stop.
"Steve," she began, approaching me from behind, "I don't think I can trust myself behind the wheel tonight. Mind giving me a lift?"
Three guesses as to what my response was.