Deja Vu AscendancyChapter 367 Nuclear Aftermath
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The Nuclear Nude free porn video
This story has adult themes and sexual situations. Adults only please.
Copyright 1999 Elaine Blankenship. May be archived on Fictionmania,
Sapphire's Place, AtEROS and TSA. All rights reserved. Member
NACU.
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The Nuclear Nude
by Lainie Lee
Barris Newcombe had always wanted to be a superhero. Except when he
considered being a supervillain, instead. The problem was, just how
does one acquire super powers?
When he was a young teenager, Barris had subscribed to all the fan
magazines, trying to get a clue as to just how one could become a
super-being. Just like several million other fans.
Super groups like the Volunteers, the Society of Protectors, the Allied
Overfolk, The Pride of Manhattan or the Blue Galaxy never seemed to
advertise for members. Sure there were ads like "Develop your Psychic
Powers" and "Super Flame Powers in Just Seven Days." These always
turned out to be scams; send in $39.95 for a book on butane flame-
throwers. Yeah right.
Barris still blushed when he remembered the money he had spent on the
Herbal Secret Formula for New Powers of the Mind that turned out to be
mustard seed according to the expose done on 20/20. He had wondered
at the time why practicing his psychic energy building had made his
burps smell like corn dogs.
But this ad looked different. Just like always, Barris immediately forgot
the warnings often printed in the better fanzines. Warnings by heroes
like Mandragonne, Spiderboy, Starfall and The Lark; there is no surefire
method for becoming a superhero. If you aren't born with powers or
haven't the brains to invent something to give yourself an edge against a
supervillain, you just have to hope you are fortunate enough to live
through some freak accident that ought to have killed you but instead
you end up with the ability to turn daisies purple or something. Yeah
right.
Still....
The ad said, "Be All That You Might Be." And a phone number. And it
wasn't a 900 number. Was that a cool ad or not? Simple.
After a lot of hassle, here he was. A deserted warehouse in a city near
where he lived, a volunteer guinea pig for a man who could only be
described as a mad scientist. Barris shivered with fear and anticipation.
"There's a good chance that this will kill you, Mr. Newcombe," said the
man who called himself the Destinator. "Or cripple you or leave you a
mindless gibbering hulk. Or something worse."
"You can't talk me out of this, Destinator." said Barris, enjoying the
opportunity to exhibit a little bravado. Then, "What could possibly be
worse?"
"Who knows?" The Destinator shrugged. "I've done this experiment
seven times before."
"And one of those guys has become The Man Called Sudden?"
"Sure, sure, that's what I said, ain't it? The bastard has been after me
ever since, too. Teleported in on me in the bathroom once, ungrateful....
But remember, one of the others is that lump of semi-sentient lead over
there." The grayish, manlike form of Leadbelly shifted a little and moved
forward, unsure if its presence was being commanded. "Get back, you
idiot," the Destinator ordered. Leadbelly subsided.
Barris gulped. "I understand."
Destinator stared at his volunteer. Barris was 32, a little balding, a little
short, a little overweight. Really, not a very prepossessing sight. But the
man had quit his job as a tax accountant, followed the Destinator's
complex shifting instructions and arrived at this warehouse
unaccompanied by the media or any law-enforcement organization,
meta-human or otherwise. And he wasn't married, had no children or
living parents or, indeed, any relatives closer than a few 2nd or 3rd
cousins. He was perfect.
Barris licked his lips again. They were getting dry. "Now, you say I
don't really have to DO anything?"
The Destinator shook his head and turned back to the dials of his control
panel. "Just stand there. On the Disk of Destiny," he knew the name was
corny but these fanboys lived on corn. "I need a living sentient subject
for the experiement. Let's just hope you stay that way."
"What exactly are you going to do to me?"
The Destinator sighed. "What do you know about transfinite probability
matrices?"
"Um. Nothing."
The Destinator smiled. "I'm going to turn your probability vector ninety
degrees from the plane of existence. Then turn it back."
"And that will give me super powers?"
A shrug. "It might."
"Okay." Barris braced himself, he wasn't a complete fool. Likely he was
going to die horribly. But maybe it would be quick instead of being
buried alive in one of the Big Six accounting firms and slowly strangled
in audits and meetings.
The Destinator closed the switch.
Barris flinched. Time, turned sideways, spread out in front of him like
an Escher staircase. The incidents of his previous life moved awayfrom
him like the steps and risers of a non-Euclidean escalator. Everything he
had ever seen, felt or heard; thought, hoped or smelt, happened again; all
at once.
Naturally, he screamed. He also tried to turn and run, and leap from a
precipice and hurl himself into the inferno and every other possible
panicky inexpedient method of escape from the pain of being himself;
now, then, and forever in a frozen moment.
Time had become distance and distance, rotation and rotation,
probability and probability, noise and noise, thought... and other even
stranger, semantically null transformations happened over and over and
over.
Then, the Destinator opened the switch.
Barris stood there trembling for a moment. The mad scientist stood
staring up at him. "I don't believe it," the Destinator muttered.
"W-What?" stammered Barris. "Am I gross? Am I ugly? Deformed?"
Having said those those things, the hope almost materialized that it
would be true, that the machine had retrieved from Elsewhere some
tragic figure like The Cybernaut, half human, half machine. Or Purple
Jesus, 25 feet of glowing violet menace. Or...
"No," said the Destinator, puncturing Barris's dreams of martyred
heroism or turtured villainy. "You look just the same as you did before."
He sounded disappointed.
Not half as much as his volunteer. Barris looked down at hands that were
just hands. He felt of his face that was just a face. He raised a foot that
was just a foot and lowered it again. He tried to summon flames or ice,
force fields or flying tigers. He tried to transform into a giant, or a
microbe, a rhino or a pterodactyl. Nothing happened. He couldn't
teleport or solve quantum mechanical equations in his head. He couldn't
sing loud enough to shatter glass or run fast enough to deliver pizza
without using a car.
"Damnit." He wanted to cry. He waved weakly at the Destinator. "Do it
again."
The mad scientist snorted. "You've got to be kidding. We've blown
power transformers and busbars over half the city. We have to get out of
here before some meddling metahuman can find us. Leadbelly! Start
breaking this equipment up." The figure of Leadbelly, looking like some
partially melted monstrously large toy soldier stumbled about the room,
wrecking the gleaming copper tubes, the shining glass cylinders, the
wonderfully, wacky, art nouveau, Teslaesque, tableau.
"You'd better get out of here, too, Barris," the Destinator warned.
"Innocent bystanders don't fare so well when the boltlobbers start firing.
We'll meet soon and I'll debrief you about your experience and maybe
we can try again later."
Eyes burning, heart broken, Barris ran.
* * *
Hours later he stumbled back into the lobby of the little motel where he
had spent the previous night. He was broke and he'd forgotten where he
had parked the car, or else it had been stolen. But he was paid up for
another night here at The Lariat Motor Lodge so he'd walked the
twenty-six blocks from the abandoned warehouse. He didn't know what
he would do tomorrow. It didn't really matter anymore, he supposed.
"May I help you?" the clerk asked. It was the same clerk from last night.
"I-I've mislaid my key. Room 213."
The clerk looked doubtful. "Do you have any ID?"
Barris shook his head. The Destinator had insisted that Barris carry no
ID with him to the rendezvous, all of that had been left in the car and
was consequently, now missing. "You checked me in last night. Don't
you remember? Just before midnight?" Barris had left nothing in the
room, but he had paid in advance and he needed a place to spend the
night.
The clerk thumbed through the register. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Barris Newcombe." He recited his driver's license number and the plate
number of his car. The clerk squinted at him and said something
peculiar but handed the key over.
Gratefully, Barris stumbled up the stairs to the fourteen foot by twelve
foot refuge.
The motel room seemed especially barren and friendless, with none of
the comforts of home. Worse it was the nearest thing to home Barris had
left, he had abandoned it all in his pursuit of the impossible dream.
Home, job, the hope of any sort of normal life. All his friends were
people like himself, acquaintances really, people he had met at
conventions held for superhero fans. He hadn't had a real friend since
the fifth grade when Calvin Hamilton had defended him from the bullies
that had tagged him with that embarrassing nickname.
He collapsed across the concrete-like bed with a stifled sob.
Barris Newcombe had the misfortune to have both a first and last name
that lent themselves readily to puns. Of the two, he preferred Nukem to
Bareass. When the video game came out he had enjoyed a brief feeling
of popularity with the new, but temporary nickname of Duke. The video
faded from popularity and Barris had discovered his new nickname
faded, too.
What would he do now? No job, no car, no home, no money, no friends.
It went without saying, no girlfriend. In fact, Barris had never had a
girlfriend for many obvious and profound reasons. But especially, no
super powers. It just wasn't fair. He had done everything he could to get
super powers; he, more than a lot of these two-bit crooks and tin-god
superheroes, deserved super powers.
He sighed. Well, at least he had another night of comfort before he took
up his new career of sleeping under bridges. And a nice hot shower
would feel good. He moved toward the bathroom, shedding clothes as
he went, his dumpy, balding, aging form emerging from its polyester and
cotton cocoon..
It must have started happening as soon as he dropped the last piece of
clothing. Reaching into the shower stall he realized that his hand looked
different. More slender and the arm above it also, thinner and
more--well--graceful. He stared, turning the hand and bringing it in
close to his slightly near-sighted eyes.
The nails grew long and well-shaped even as he watched and a rosy tint
seemed to form in the very substance of the nail itself. Rose that
deepened to red, a red as ripe and delicious as any cherry that ever
bloomed in spring time. He brushed something back from his face then
he realized it was hair. Long blonde, curly hair. Growing from his own
head. He backed away from the shower and quickly turned to see
himself in the mirror.
She looked back at him in wonder as her face melded and changed.
Lumpy nose becoming cutely retrousse. Eyebrows arching perfectly
with hints of lavender shadow on the lids. Beestung lips ripening into a
perfect cupid's bow and as red as the nails. She opened her mouth and
made a mewling sound that might have been a whispered "Omigod!" that
turned into a lilting squeak of astonishment.
The change hadn't finished. The male chest had already changed some,
no hair and little adolescent cookie breasts. Quickly the breasts
expanded, now little cherry pop-tarts, seconds later apricots, peaches,
apples, pears, oranges, grapefruit, cantaloupes! The feeling of expansion
exploded across Barris' psyche like ack-ack in a John Wayne movie.
"Stop!" Barris squealed. The breasts stopped growing, just a little short
of unbelievable. Just as if they had been listening. He looked down at
himself, down the valley between the melon-sized tits and caught a
glimpse of something even more alarming happening.
Barris made a grab for his disappearing manhood but the balls and penis
shrank away from his grasp, folding up inside him. It felt incredible, it
felt exactly as if he had just fucked himself.
Herself. Shuddering with the climax, she checked it out with her hands.
Yup, the right pronouns were now definitely female. Moaning, she
rubbed her hands all over her now satiny smooth body, incidentally
distributing the juices she had found in her pussy across her domed
tummy, her swelling breasts, her widening thighs.
She dropped one hand back to her wet little box and with the other
rubbed and pinched her breasts and nipples. It felt so good she wondered
if she would ever be able to stop. Another rippling, shuddering, galvanic
orgasm wracked her body and she cried out before staggering backward
and collapsing on the bed.
"Oh, shit!" she breathed. Maybe I'd better just lie here for awhile, she
decided. It was hard to keep her hands off herself; she felt so, so
sensitized. Obviously, the Destinator's equipment had had an effect after
all. Just a delayed one. "I've been turned into a woman!" she said out
loud. "A beautiful woman," she added.
Wonderingly, she touched her face, her lips, her hair, her breasts, her
pussy, that little button at the top of the slit, whoo! Then she did hardly
any thinking at all for awhile as she explored the pleasures of her new
body.
Later, she slept. And when she woke up, she masturbated again. After
all, Barris had never had the opportunity to explore a female body
before, everything was very new to him. Her.
After her fifth or sixth orgasm since waking up, Barris realized
something. "I'm hungry," she said aloud. Her new voice sounded so
cute and sexy. Higher-pitched than his old one, with a lilting cadence
and a hint of a childish lisp. Barris had no idea why she should sound
like, like, like such a sexy, air-headed bimbo. But she did.
"I kinda like it," she said out loud and kicked her feet in the air and
giggled. Then she lay for awhile and played with herself again until
once more she felt the pangs of hunger. "I'm really hungry, now." She
tried a pout, sat up and looked at herself in the mirror. Then stood up for
a better look.
Tousled blonde hair curled past her waist, a brilliant sunshine yellow
with highlights of gold and red and sparkling silver. Her eyes were
blue-green, with long dark lashes under perfectly arched brows and
delicate shades of lavender and rose and teal on her eyelids. Her cupid's
bow lips were crimson and scarlet and red and looked delicately swollen
as if they had just been bruised by a kiss. Her finger and toenails
matched, a red like a firetruck. Her skin was pale, not icy though, but a
warm delicate rose pink.
The breasts seemed huge because her waist and shoulders were so
narrow. Barris broke off looking at herself at that point and decided
she'd better take a shower before she succumbed to self-abuse again.
"I've got a super power!" she trilled. Well, she had always said she'd
give anything to become a superhero. The loss of her manhood didn't
seem so bad at the moment. "Like I wasn't using it much anyway," she
giggled.
She had a lot of fun in the shower, playing with herself some more.
"Darnit, I am just so sexy!" she complained. But she didn't really mind.
She dried herself off in front of the mirror, watching herself as much as
she could. "I'm gorgeous!" Barris had never given much thought to such
an outcome of his search for super-powers but what the hey!
She fluffed at her hair, it seemed to dry quickly but she knew she would
need a comb for the mass of curls. Or did she? Her fingers seemed to be
doing a more than adequate job. Maybe one of her powers was always
looking well-groomed? The shower had not disturbed her makeup, if she
was wearing makeup. And she had no hair on her anywhere but her
head. Somehow she didn't think she was going to have to shave her legs
or wax her bikini line.
Right about then, the weirdness got to her a little. She had been
transformed from a dumpy little accountant to a ravishing beauty, a
Marilyn Monroe look-alike, sort of. But with better tits and....and.....
This was a super power?
"I'm still hungry," she decided. "But what am I going to wear?" She
certainly had nothing appropriate for the coquettish little tart she had
become. The new Barris looked as if she would buy her clothes at
Frederick's of Hollywood or some such place. She giggled and squirmed
a little. It was actually a little embarrassing to contemplate wearing
women's clothes let alone walking into a store and actually buying some.
A little nervously, she picked up her old shirt wondering if it would fit
over the new breasts. She decided to try it on. When she slipped her
arm through the sleeve she felt the change beginning.
It wasn't near as pleasant going back the other way. In fact, having her
tits smashed flat and her clitoris stretched out of her body until it became
a penis was a hellish experience.
Barris almost passed out from the pain and slipped his arm back out of
the shirt. Instantly, the change reversed again and breasts bloomed and
the penis shrank, the sensation was pleasant but less intense than the first
transformation. "What the heck," said Barris in her listing soprano.
She put the shirt back on and felt herself change painfully back into a
man. "What the hell," he muttered.
A little experimentation proved it. If she attempted to wear any of his
clothes, she became him. "Damn," he said finally, after putting his own
shirt back on for the umpteenth time. "I'm hungry and I'm still broke.
And my super power seems to be to turn into a bimbo when I'm naked."
Maybe if he had some women's clothes to dress herself in, she wouldn't
turn into a guy.
"Or maybe," he said, slipping the shirt off again. "Maybe I've got other
powers when I'm the babe." The sensation of changing into _she_ was
almost worth the pain of changing into him.
She looked at herself in the mirror again. She was aware now that she
was several inches shorter in her female self and she looked too slender
and cute to fight her way out of a secretary pool but maybe she had
hidden abilities. "Here goes nothing!" she said, hoping that she was
wrong.
She gestured at the walls. No force bolts pierced the tacky paintings.
She leapt into the air and tried to zoom away. She didn't seem able to
fly. She stared at things, but nothing froze or burned or anything.
"Gosh," she swore. "I guess I'm just useless."
Pouting, she flung herself across the bed. "What use is super powers if
you can't fly or break things?" She turned on her back and contemplated
playing with herself again. That was certainly fun. "But I'm too upset,"
she decided. "It just makes me so mad, I could explode."
That was it, that was her superpower. She realized it just as she
exploded. The problem was, how do you use such a power where all you
can do is get naked and blow up?
The end of the motel went up in a respectable-sized fireball, incinerating
the room Barris had been in, the room below, fortunately empty and
singeing a beat-up old Chevy pickup and a nearly new Toyota Camry.
Several terrorist organizations would have been quite happy to claim the
explosion as one of theirs and a few might have tried to do so if the
destruction of the Lariat Motel in Wilcox, Arizona had ever made the
international news.
(To be continued?)
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Copyright 1999 by Elaine Blankenship
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