MAU Painting the Town Pink Part 5 Stuck
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MAU: Painting The Town Pink -- Part 7 - Mike's Great Idea. free porn video
Ten minutes later I came back out of the front door of my house, relocked
it and hid the key back in it's flower pot, and walked slowly on down the
street. I thought the phone calls had gone okay. I'd left a message on
Cody and Dave's parent's machine saying something indistinct about being
off with Julia for a few days and having vocal problems due to an injury
in the fight with Jack. I knew it was lame, but I didn't really know
*what* to say to them. I might have to just get it over with and tell them
the truth. They were my best buds after all, which meant they would come
looking for me pretty soon, probably at Julia's. At that point keeping
what had happened to me hidden would begin a descent into sitcom like
levels of farce.
And that's assuming Julia would cooperate at all.
But the big one, my parents, had gone well. At least once I gotten it
through to Aunt Livia, who'd answered the phone, who I was. She'd got Dad,
and he'd bought my story about a cold.
"Better got some rest," he'd said. "How did it work out with Julia?"
"Pretty good. Damn cold's put a damper on things now, though." Killing her
may have been bad for the relationship, too, I thought. Sort of a mood
killer.
"Has she got it too?" he asked.
"Er, yeah. She does."
"Wonder if you got it from her?. Should have come with us, son. We could
have gone hunting together, checked out the woods." He lowered his voice.
"Would have given me as excuse to spend get away from my sister in law for
a while. I always forget how bad she is. And this time it's even worse.
She's all on about how I'm keeping her from seeing what kind of man your
turning into. Been on me about it since I got here."
I'd chuckled, quickly brought my voice under control as it rose and tried
to turn the chuckle into a giggle, then added a rough cough to the end.
She'd be surprised to know what kind of 'man' I was turning into. They all
would. Still, I was glad I'd stayed. I might have screwed up big time, but
I'd also brought something of incalculable value out of it. On the whole,
I was ahead. And just because I was a woman physically shouldn't make me
less of a man. My mind was not the plaything of my body.
But how would Dad look at me after he found out? There wouldn't be the
recriminations I'd imagined after I realized I was stuck. He'd see the
value of immortality. But how would he treat me afterwards? Would he think
of me as a girl? Would his pride in his son, little that I'd ever done to
earn it, change into something else, the slightly awkward protectiveness
of a father toward his daughter? Would this be the last time I ever heard
him suggest a hunting or fishing trip together?
I didn't want to lose the feeling he gave me when he called me 'son'. I
didn't want to be some half understood feminine creature, which in his
eyes needed to be sheltered from the outside world. He would never see me
like that, I vowed. I could take more punishment than any man alive. If he
started look at me like that, I'd shatter that picture into a million
pieces. With a fucking sledgehammer.
I roughly pulled my mind away from running over and over the conversation.
Get PK under control now, obsess about changed position in society later.
I'd gone a few blocks from my home. This was an okay place to start
working on it, I figured. I didn't see anyone about, and the only sign of
life was the incessant whine of some power tool from the house across the
way, and some music playing down at the end of the block.
There was a mound of dead leaves in the gutter near me. That would do for
a first test.
I focused in them, willing them to move. Nothing happened. Come on, I
thought. I imagined them shifting over each other, crawling down the
gutter at though alive, tried to reach out with my mind and *push.* Still
nothing.
Okay, what was going on? How was this different from what had happened
with Julia? I cast my mind back, working to isolate exactly how I felt
when I killed her, what I'd been thinking beforehand. It was hard. The
memory was traumatic, laden with feeling of guilt and anger, and had
already grown hazy.
I'd felt it in my head in a physical way, I could remember that. I'd been
seething with rage, all the anger held in and pushed under. And there had
been something else, something about the way I'd seen her, looked at
her...
I'd sensed her in a different way than normal. As though she was inside my
head, as though I could feel every detail of her form. Sort of a sixth
sense...
I remembered how I'd programed the MUA. "If it is safe and possible, give
me psychokinesis and whatever related senses are required to control
same."
I looked at the leaves, trying to reach out to them, to feel them with my
mind -
And suddenly it worked. The leaves were in me, inside my grasp. I could
feel them, the million minute details of their structure. They were mine
to control, to do with as I pleased.
I focused and they rose into the air in a flurry of motion, whirled around
me in a cloud, then rushed out in all directions as I pushed them away.
I resumed walking down the street, and as I went I practiced. I reached
out with my mind and felt my surroundings, pushed flat the blades of grass
as I passed by, brought small stones to my hand with a gesture, stripped
the leaves from a tree branch and formed them into a small green whirlwind
which I pushed ahead of me for a few minutes as I walked down the
sidewalk, before finally letting it dissipate.
It was an amazing feeling, almost like flying. But it was also oddly
limited.
I couldn't seem to move anything big. Before, I'd thrown Julia across the
room with enough force to cause severe internal damage, but now I couldn't
seem to lift more than a few pounds. And I could only touch the surface of
things. I tried it on cars as I passed them. I could sense some of the
things inside, but when I tried to move them the force seemed to bounce
off the intervening material. And I could only sense things within a
limited distance, at most twenty or thirty feet.
And it was intermittent, stuttering off an on like a bad connection. At
times I could touch everything around me, hold it in my mind with razor
sharp clarity for a few moments, then it would fade into intangibility.
And it might stay that way for seconds, or, as it did once, for minutes.
It had hurt horrible when struck out at Julia. Had I damaged the part of
my mind which did this in that first act of violence? Or did it just
require practice to perfect?
I realized that one thing was for sure - doing it tired me in a way which
simple physical exertion was no longer able to. I let the stone which I
had been holding suspended above the palm of my hand fall, and strolled
along quietly for a while, soaking in the warm sunlight, letting my
depleted energy reserves renew themselves. What would using this power do
to me, I wondered, if I wasn't also able to regenerate?
I saw I had been unconsciously paralleling my route home from school the
day before. Not too far ahead was old man Hutchison's house. He probably
wouldn't mind me running through his back yard anymore, not the way I
looked now. He'd want to know when I was coming before hand, though, so he
could get out to his yard and set up a chair in a spot with a good view.
Old man Hutchison. I really ought to fix his fence for him some time, I
thought. And stopped in my tracks.
I could fix a lot more for 'old man' Hutchison than his fence. I could fix
a lot of things for a lot of people with just a little bit of effort. I
could make Hutchison a vital, healthy *young* man. All I had to do was
walk up to Hutchison's front door, ring the bell, and stab him with a
syringe full of my blood, and I could give him back his youth. That was
worth a whole lot more than a crummy fence.
And what would happen then? I resumed my stride, turning it over in my
mind. There was his house right up there. Why not just do it? Give the old
man a new life? It's not like he would be able to point me out to the
authorities. I could change my face to look like any woman's I pleased.
If I did it, though, I would put him in a dangerous position, a position
very like the one I was in now. He'd be a freak, a miracle. Who would
believe his story about what had happened to him, that he'd suddenly lost
sixty or seventy years of age? And if he did convince people, what would
happen to him then?
Like in my case, it would probably be worth it to him. *Probably?* More
like definitely.
I'd drawn level with his house, and I stopped, looking at the it,
considering. I wouldn't do it, I knew. It was too much of a risk. I hardly
owed the man a new life just for busting up his fence a little and
disturbing his afternoon naps.
Hutchison's next door neighbor, the working man I'd never seen before, was
home today; out in his front yard watering the flowers. He looked up at me
and gave a little wave, and I returned it, feeling embarrassment at what
he could be thinking about me, a beautiful woman out for a little
afternoon stroll. Was he wondering what I looked like with my clothes off?
Wondering what I'd be like in bed?
It was then that my conscious mind noticed barking. Something had been
bothering me at a low level for a couple of minutes, now I realized what
it was. I'd heard Hutchison's dogs bark before; quite a lot you, might
say. But they'd never sounded like this. On and on they barked, the
retriever's big woof's intermittently punctuated by Pug's sharp yips.
There was something mournful about the it, lost - very different from the
playful intensity of their noise when they chased me and my friends.
I walked up the where the neighbor was soaking his roses with a water
hose.
"Afternoon," I said.
He was a narrow man with a little moustache, and as he flashed a friendly
smile I saw his eyes go over my body briefly, lingering for the barest
instant on my chest. Nothing offensive, just normal, healthy male
interest. Directed at me. Urrgh.
"Afternoon, miss. Need anything?"
I shook my head. "No, just taking a walk. Hutchison's dogs are sure
barking it up. What's going on with 'em?"
My voice had returned almost to normal for this body, without any
conscious action from me since the phone calls. Interesting.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. "You haven't heard?"
"Heard? About what?"
He shifted his stream of water to a new place, gestured toward's
Hutchison's house with his free hand. "The Mexican girl that comes by to
help him around the place found him this morning. Apparently he fell and
broke his hip some time yesterday and had been lying there unable to do
anything ever since. They had the ambulance by and everything."
I felt a chill pass over me. Yesterday. After we'd gone through his yard.
I remembered him as I saw him last, shaking his cane at me angrily. My
fault? Had he fallen as he went back inside, unsteady due to being roused
from his nap, grumbling angrily about me and my friends stirring up his
dogs? And then he tripped over something, and...
"Was it - is it serious?" Had I inadvertently killed someone besides
Julia?
The man nodded somberly. "I'd guess so, old guy like that and all.
Probably won't walk again. *If* he survives after lying on the floor all
that time. I told him once he should hire a live in nurse. Liked his
privacy too much, though, I guess. Shame. Nice fellow once you got to know
him."
I nodded numbly, started to past him, then stopped. "Do you know where
they took him? What hospital?"
He looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Probably Kaiser West, out past the school.
Yeah, that's where they would have taken him. Why? Did you know him,
miss?"
I barely noticed the pronoun. My actions had consequences I couldn't see,
ripples moving out under an immobile facade, destruction behind false
normalcy. If I could thoughtlessly cause something like this back when I
was still normal, what might I set in motion now that I was so far from
average? "My Dad knows him. He'll want to know."
I walked away quickly, my thoughts focused on what I had to do.
I would heal him. I was decided in that. Was there some way I could make
it easier for him, smooth the inevitable disbelief afterwards? He was in
the hospital. If they had surveillance cameras in the rooms, there would
be proof of his story. Or I could bring my own camera along, video what
happened.
The hospital. I was responsible for what happened to him. So I was going
to make it better. But what about all the other sick people, all the
people who -?
It hit me then, the way to fix it, fix everything, the thing which had
been lurking on the edges of my consciousness since I'd left Julia's.
One death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic. I didn't remember who'd
said that, Churchill or Stalin or someone like that, but it described this
situation perfectly.
One old man suddenly becoming young and healthy was a miracle, and cause
for examination and dissection. A whole hospital healed on the other
hand... That was something else. Not quite a statistic. But no longer an
isolated miracle.
And the same applied to me. One boy turning into a girl was impossible.
But one boy turning into a girl in a town suddenly full of impossible
things? That was something else.
I knew where the Kaiser was, about two miles past the school on the edge
of town, a large grey four story building and a couple of smaller
structures, surrounded by a vast expanse of sweltering concrete parking
lot.
It took me about twenty-five minutes to jog there. By the time I arrived I
had a rudimentary plan, and I no longer resembled the woman I'd been when
I set out.
I'd shrunk by breasts as far as they would go - there was a lower limit
which I couldn't seem to go below. That made the running easier, although
it also resulted in my bra coming loose and flopping around inside my
shirt, which felt weird. I also widened my nose and thickened my facial
features, then slightly darkened my skin and turned my hair brown and
curly.
The plan was simple. And of course, incredible stupid, probably. Get in,
find Hutchison, inject him with my blood, do the same to as many other
patients as possible, get back out and head to Julia's.
I spent a little while around the corner from the main entrance, cooling
off beside a small ornamental fountain. I'd had my pain dampening on, so
the run through the mid day heat hadn't bothered me, but when I turned off
the pain dampening I found that I'd become quite overheated. It faded
quickly, though, and there didn't seem to be any lasting effects.
I looked at the reflection of my new face in the glass of the entry for a
long moment before I went inside. I certainly bore no resemblance to my
'normal' female form.
I took my place in the short line leading to the receptionist, shaking
slightly with excitement and nervousness. What was I doing? I could still
back out of this and no one would know about the insanity I'd been
contemplating.
Except for me. I'd know. I know I left someone to die when I could save
them, someone whom I was responsible for putting in that condition to
start with.
And how much risk was I really putting myself in? I couldn't be id'd. The
police would have one *hell* of a time subduing me to take me into
custody. And I'd bet I could get back out of custody, if it came to that.
It might take some time, but I'd figure out how to open locks with PK
sooner or later.
But there was no reason it should come to that.
The line shuffled slowly forward, until finally I came to the
receptionist, a fat, soft looking woman of about fifty. She gave me a
bored look.
"I'm here to visit Mallory Hutchison," I said. "Do you know what room he's
in?"
She typed the name into her computer. "Are you friend or family?"
"Friend."
"He's in room 132D." She handed me a form. "Fill this out and bring it
back to me to get a visitor pass. Do you have photo ID with you?"
I nodded and turned away before she could ask me for it. There was a
waiting area in a lobby beside the reception desk. It was partially filled
with people, sitting and standing on and around the worn, uncomfortable
looking brown chairs. On the wall was a multi-colored floor plan of the
hospital. I took careful note of the layout. Hutchison was on the second
floor at the north end of the building.
I waited, biding my time until I saw a chance, then slipped in with a
group of people headed for one of the elevators. A security guard sitting
in a little booth beside the doors glanced at us without apparent interest
as I stepped in, not seeming to notice my lack of a visitor pass.
I got out on the second floor. The people I was with, two middle aged
women, a boy of about eight or nine, and an older grey haired man; went to
the left, down the corridor, which was the way I wanted to go. I followed,
trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, keeping my arms folded over my
breasts in the hope that anyone looking at me might think they obscured my
pass.
The air smelled strongly of disinfectant and the hall was with a dingy
grey industrial carpet. About twenty yards on we passed a nurses station;
three nurses sitting around in front of monitors inside a medium sized
room set off the hallway. I examined the room closely as I walked by. The
back of the room was partially walled off with frosted glass, and I caught
quick glimpses of medical supplies and spare surgical scrubs inside it.
I wanted things from in there; however I couldn't very well get them while
the nurses were at their posts. A distraction was required. Which
shouldn't be a problem, as I had one in mind, and soon.
The group I was following stopped at a door a little further on, and one
of the women and the man went inside. I continued alone. Room 128, 129.
132 should be just a little further.
And there it was.
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