Aberrant: 200X - Joining Paths

[WhiteRain]

Chang Zha-Yang stared at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes had turned bright violet and blazing orange, and seemed brighter than usual. She brushed a finger over her eyelashes, amazed by her skin's newfound sensitivity.

That word seemed inappropriate. Sensitivity implied delicacy. Her sense of touch had become more precise. Far, far more precise. She could feel every individual lash with just a casual brush, and she moved her finger faster and faster. No matter how quickly she made the motion, her skin registered every lash.

"Incredible," she whispered, in all four voices.

Next she touched the white raindrop tattoo. She had always been able to feel the ink, but now she could pick out every drop of ink that had gone into it, and tiny variances in the skin that betrayed where the ink had pocketed in a little more density.

This displeased her.

She rushed quantum through her skin, and evened out the ink, making the tattoo perfect. Chang corrected any errors in the cobweb tattoo on her shoulder, then began to touch herself all over, finding little imperfections here and there that she immediately fixed. Her three breasts required a surprising amount of correction.

By the time she finished, Chang had removed every imperfection, every bump or twist in her skin that did not meet her approval. The difference was palpable to her eyes. She seemed cleaner, more definably her, and also more 'other'. She wondered how the baselines would respond?

Click to reveal..

Though already on the character sheet, from here on out I'm playing it like the Unnatural Beauty aberration/flaw is in full effect, since her changes here have made it happen. Bit of a retcon but it fits nice.

For once, Chang could not meditate. She had the right mental state for it, and much to think about, but her newfound perceptions were still distracting. Kneeling on the rug to meditate filled her with discoveries about the cloth's weave and imperfections in it, places where the dye had been too thick or too thin.

Her first order of business today would be to make a better meditation rug.

She moved over to her camera area and viewed the previous day's footage. Her bed-shape was growing more comfortable. It felt less like effort, more like rest. Nonetheless her night had been restless. After returning from The Female she had tried to sleep but after an hour had returned to humanoid form and begun to draw up designs.

Those commercials she had seen still haunted her mind. The flexible woman and Bombshell had flicked a switch in her soul, and creativity had bubbled out uncontrolled.

Now she had a small stack of designs for sculptures and busts, most of the steps of a new dance, and a desperate itch to take a camera to one or both of them. But she needed a new camera for that.

Chang archived the footage and started a new recording, then left the bathroom.

Her donation to the Crush fund had come back to haunt her. The one thing she had learned - and every artistic photographer knew it too - was that your run-of-the-mill camera got in the way when it came to taking pictures of novas. The film could never capture them right, even the ones that weren't overly beautiful or dramatic.

A camera of the quality she needed cost money. Lots of it.

Chang stood in front of a blank canvas and set up her paints. Noah had been bugging her for new produce. Time to provide.

She did not think. She picked up the brush, put a random colour on it, and set her arm to blurring. Her mind filled with her new senses, her fresh appreciation of the world around her, of things she had never before been able to detect. A pure kind of joy resonated in her being, different from her sometimes cold intellectual life.

Chang paused ten minutes later, the first coating done.

By the looks of things, she had begun to draw air currents themselves. It would be a perspective picture, looking past the hip of a naked figure toward an indistinct but suggestive horizon. The real meat of the painting would be the air between fore and background, which would be detailed obsessively.

She checked her single-hair brush, and laid it reverently down beside the paints.

Her last action before her morning routine had been to do some early morning shopping.

The legacy of that shopping lay on the kitchen counter, dozens of types of food, condiments and recipe books. Also lists of notes that laid out the composition of those foods and condiments, and links between them.

Chang Zha-Yang had in mind a taste test.

Last night her tastebuds had grown in proportion with her sense of touch, and she needed to properly explore that. She had licked a simple crisp, and had been able to taste each individual grain of salt in it.

Eating could never be the same again. With a new avenue of knowledge now open to her, Chang intended to go for a long and leisurely stroll.

She went into the kitchen and began to look through her notes, lining up a few foods that shared ingredients. As she had realized when she tasted her own semen, being able to taste all the parts helped little if she could not identify them.

By the end of this she intended to know the difference between sodium and potassium, zinc and iron, and all the rest of the multitude of preservatives, flavourings and colourings that modern food enjoyed.

And bricks.

Chang had not in any way left her unique cuisine in the cold. Glass pitchers, bricks, rubber balls and plastic bags were lined up with the mangos and sides of raw beef so she could taste them all.

She smiled. This felt just a little childish, a little youthful.

Smiling, Chang began to taste.

[Bombshell]

Mid-morning, Jason was sitting in her Dodge Ram, staring at the converted warehouse WhiteRain was residing in, debating if she should reconsider this. As comfortable as she gotten with her new gender, she still missed her cock on occasion. And yeah, WhiteRain has a cock bigger than my forearm and a third tit. This isn't going to be awkward at all!

But she had given her word, even if it was to that prick Borealis, and she tried to keep her word as much as possible. A holdover from how her father had raised her. Enough dithering - you've posed for Playboy, you've kissed a guy, practically made out with him on camera - how hard can it be talking to a hermaphrodite nova? Plus, some of her music is pretty awesome, maybe I can get a few pointers.

Jason slid gracefully out of her truck and walked across the street, taking the looks turned her way in stride without being a bitch about it. And then she was at Chang Zha-Yang's front door. She did a quite once over, wry grin on her lips that she was mildly concerned about how she presented herself - other than her first meeting with Ausrine, she thought she did a pretty good job meeting other celebrities without acting like a fangirl.

Her ass-length, argent hair was pulled back in a high pony-tail with a few artfully loose tresses, sunglasses sitting on top of her head. She had given up her typical shirt with the self-mocking comment printed across the front for business-casual: a white, button-down oxford shirt with a few buttons undone, under a pin-striped vest and a sharp sports coat, tailored for her proportions, with a pair of dark, crisp jeans and a casual pair of oxford shoes. Stylish without being anywhere near formal, comfortable without being too casual. The only accessories she had was a heavy, sportswatch on her left wrist and a thin, gold chain from which hung the pendant of the interlinked male and female symbols that Katya had gotten her and Danielle for Christmas.

You're famous and ridiculously hot and sexy. She'll have more trouble dealing with your presence than you will with hers.

Standing tall with an amiable confidence and impossibly fluid grace, lips curved in casual greeting, Jason 'Bombshell' Bellefleur knocked on WhiteRain's door.

"Good mornin', WhiteRain," Jason called out, her mellifluous soprano, rich and velvety, penetrating the door as if it wasn't even there, to dance and flow unimpeded throughout Chang's home, even though she hadn't raised her voice. "This is Jason Bellefleur and if you have the time, I'd like to speak with your for a few moments."

[WhiteRain]

Chang finished digesting the glass, and made some notes on the various ways even that varied. Generally she found that the taste of glass was affected by its last contents. Even a cleaned glass had hints of washing up liquid. From those hints she could taste all the chemicals that the company behind Fairy Liquid put into their product.

She did not like the taste.

Nonetheless, it opened up some thoughts. Very little could damage her. What if nothing could? Bricks, raw chemicals, metal, plastic, she could eat it all and her body could extract nutrition through some unspecified process. What about toxic waste and the like?

Taking a break from the tasting, Chang found the stash of raw silk she kept for tapestries and the like, and needles to knit it. She carried both to the kitchen, and considered whether to continue the tasting, or knit and then return to it.

That was when she heard the voice.

"Good mornin', WhiteRain," Jason called out, her mellifluous soprano, rich and velvety, penetrating the door as if it wasn't even there, to dance and flow unimpeded throughout Chang's home, even though she hadn't raised her voice. "This is Jason Bellefleur and if you have the time, I'd like to speak with you for a few moments."

Chang did not turn around. Her body erupted in gooseflesh. Her triple nipples stood on end.

She placed the silk down beside the cooker, and crossed the needles atop it. With a quick blur of her hands she reorganized the food and her notes to make things ordered, then grabbed a watermelon and headed towards the door.

Bombshell. Here?

Little point in wondering why she might have visited. She would have learned of Chang's arrival via the news if nothing else, and for all Chang knew she made a habit of greeting nova visitors personally.

Chang moved into the porch and warped her index finger into the door's key. She thrust it into the lock, turned it, and swung the door inwards.

Bombshell stood on her porch, defying description or imagination. Raw beauty given form, and power, and personality.

Chang's cock stiffened, letting out a deep, fleshy creak as it swelled and thickened.

"Hello," Chang said, quirking a critical eyebrow as her cock groaned to a stop, mere inches away from Bombshell's upper thigh, "I suppose it would be appropriate to say 'pleased to meet you'."

She pressed the watermelon to her lips, then stretched her jaw open, gaping around it like a serpent. With a violent arch of her head, Chang wrapped her lips completely around the melon and gulped it into her throat. It fell down inside her, and made a small bulge in her belly.

Chang did not look directly at Bombshell. Her head had naturally come to rest looking under one of Bombshell's shoulders and she had no wish to make pretences. After all, she could see Bombshell better than any ogler. Through her bare legs she could see the sides of Bombshell's legs, the well-developed calves, the toned thighs. Her hips could study Bombshell's hips, seductively arched, flawless in shape.

A strand of Chang's ankle-length hair, black as a raven's wing, flexed out and enwrapped the morning paper, pulled it in and deposited it on the side with her wallet.

She studied Bombshell's attire, and became aware of the expression on that wondrous face. A puzzled frown. Chang supposed that she had said little, and not even invited Bombshell in yet.

"Your choice of dress is intriguing," Chang said, her voice multiplying into four strands, creating the flawless harmony that had helped make her songs and her music so unique and special. "The suit suggests this is a business meeting of sorts, but your jeans detract somewhat from this impression. Perhaps your business is not of such pressing concern that you feel the need to be completely formal." Chang smiled, still not looking directly at Bombshell. "Or maybe I am over-thinking things again. I do that. Please, come in."

Chang stepped back from the door, bowed, and with a stand of her raven hair gestured for Bombshell to enter her domain.

[Bombshell]

I may have seriously underestimated the potential awkwardness of this encounter. I'm so glad Danielle isn't here - the embarrassment would reach critical mass, Jason mused, quickly reassessing the situation, and silently damning Borealis.

"Thank-you. I try to avoid dressin' in full formal-wear whenever I can, but didn't want you to think this was a completely casual visit. Though now, I'm feelin' a tad overdressed."

Her luscious lips curving wryly, concealing her concerns, she gave a gracious nod and strutted gracefully into WhiteRain's home, deftly eluding her overly prominent man-meat. Through skin and hair, Chang could see that Bombshell's every movement was poetry in motion, a match to her peerless pulchritude.

Though Jason's tone was light, Chang noted the dilation of her pupils as her eyes fell across her three breasts, the faint tightening of her lips as her attention was dragged unavoidably to her monstrous cock. To Jason's credit, her perusal was swift and she seemed determined to take Chang's... idiosyncrasies in amiably charming stride, though not without effort.

Not bothering to turn around, Chang simply reformed herself facing the other way, flesh and bone rippling and twisting, and followed her guest with curious interest and an artist's eye. One arm stretched back impossibly far to close the door.

To give herself time to adjust to her host, Jason glanced around the loft with polite interest. It had an open plan she liked, but the precise organization of everything - areas were distinctly delineated with tape - and the lack of any actual furniture or personal affects made it seem... empty, antiseptic. She began to understand Kyle's assertion that WhiteRain may have been lonely - she certainly didn't have a place conducive to entertaining.

But it wasn't unlived in. WhiteRain was more than just a musician, judging by areas dedicated to painting and sculpting - the unfinished works showcasing skill equal to her music. Jason quirked a fine, dark brow at the kitchen, seeing the counters and free-standing island covered in a plethora of foodstuffs, along with bricks, broken glass, plastic bags, and a swathe of silk under a pair of knitting needles. Okay...

WhiteRain was a stunning if unconventional... woman, but she had seen her equal at fashion shows and modeling shoots, and Danielle was far more beautiful. Odd eyes on a Nova - and novaphiles with the help of NovaEyez - were almost mandatory these days, and while prehensile hair was rare, Jason had seen similar before - indeed, with hair down to the bottom of her ass, she had wished for the ability to manipulate her silver mane at will more than once. WhiteRain's multi-tonal voice, so beautiful when performing was uncanny in normal conversation. Then again, she herself had to be careful just laughing in public - she had made men spend their loads in their pants from the sound before.

The three, perfect breasts were weirdly eye-catching, if not as bountiful as she had grown used to - probably a good thing, the logistics would have been untenable - but the glossy, too smooth skin was somewhat off-putting, like and unlike her own. Despite doing a spread in Playboy, and filming nude scenes for Valkyrie, it was hard to deal with WhiteRain's nonchalant nudity, a reversal since dealing with her own nudity was normally a monumental trial for others. Others tried not looking directly at her before as well, to deal with the divine sight, but she had never seen someone do it without any hint of strain before.

But really... it was all she could do not to gawk at that massive cock. It wasn't even envy. Filming her first nude scene with Einherjar had given rise to penis envy though disturbingly, not for long - she could barely remember what it was like to have a cock of her own anymore. But WhiteRain's cock was ginormous, aggressive and intrusive. She wasn't even sure what anyone, on either side of the damned thing, would use it for. It was more than a little disconcerting.

It - she - better not spew a fuckin' geyser of cum on me! Somewhere, bloody Borealis is laughing at me. Dick. No! Don't think about that! How can I NOT think about it?! Gods, it can't be comfortable to live with that thing - it would be as if my tits were the size of beach balls!

Jason took a deep, composing breath, her swelling breasts taxing the limits of her shirt and vest, then turned back to her host, keeping her eyes locked on WhiteRain's face, or at least head, since she wasn't looking directly at her. Leaning on the edge of the free-standing island in the kitchen, she unconsciously crossed her legs at the ankle, preventing immediate access to her nether regions to that titanic shaft.

"I hope you're settling into Vancouver fine Wh - actually, do you prefer WhiteRain or Chang Zha-Yang?" Jason inquired smoothly. Some novas preferred their real name, others their 'mask name,' and they could be touchy about it.

Chang waved a hand in dismissal, her voice dropping to a two-toned echo. "WhiteRain is merely a label under which I sold music. I am Chang Zha-Yang. Please, call me Chang."

"Chang, then." Jason tilted her head in acceptance, silver hair gleaming under the light, lips tipping up. "Call me Jason. As I was saying, I hope you're settling in fine. Vancouver is an amazing city, even dealing with the aftereffects of the Victoria Crush." Her easy smile briefly widened. "I liked some of your music when I was younger, especially this one - sorry, I suck with song titles..." Jason hummed several bars, her voice silvery and pure, nodding when Chang provided the title.

"That's it. Sadly, I have to admit being mostly a rock and metal fan. And Alejandra, for purely aesthetic reasons, you understand?" Jason's grin was self-mocking and she shock her head. "Look, you seem a direct sort, so I'll be direct in kind. I can't say I would have come here on my own, but a man of our mutual - if most likely unwanted - acquaintance asked me to pay you visit."

Chang weighed keeping silent versus voicing the question propriety asked of her, despite being reasonably sure of the answer. She faced Jason directly. "Who?"

Jason's lips twisted as if she tasted something bitter. "Kyle. Borealis. I read the local papers, I heard about your donation. I can't say I agree with your... prior associations, but for that, thank-you. Anyway, I'm sure you've heard about the Charity Event in the works."

"I have."

"Right, well, I would have waited for you to come to us - I've only been actively going out to ask people I personally know. But - as much as I don't want to admit this - maybe Borealis had a point, there are others who might like to contribute, if but asked."

Jason straightened to her full height, hands held out at her sides. "So here I am, asking if you wish to participate in the Event we have planned."

The silence between to two women stretched, engaged in mutual appraisal, though not uncomfortably so. Finally, Jason couldn't hold it in anymore, her eyes dropping for a moment, then held up a hand to block her sight from the over-sized male organ pointing directly at her, a slight blush rising in her cheeks.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I really am, but do you think you can put it - can you put some clothes on? I'm getting a mite uncomfortable. It looks... hungry."

[WhiteRain]

"Hungry?" Chang considered the word. Of course Jason meant it metaphorically, but it occurred to Chang that there could be a literal interpretation.

By her will, Chang's cock curved upwards, bending so she could see its perfectly formed but over-sized tip, and so Jason could also. Then she opened its eye, stretching it wide just as she had stretched her jaw when swallowing the watermelon.

The shaft made a fleshy groan as it expanded, that peaked and plunged as it slowed, finishing once it had gaped wide enough that it could have swallowed Jason whole. Chang nodded, and her shaft snapped shut. She stretched her jaw equally as wide, making a gaping chasm of her small, perfect mouth. She closed that mouth as well.

"An interesting observation," Chang said to Jason. "I appreciate it."

Jason maintained her composure, but Chang saw a full body twitch when she had opened her maws to their widest. Perhaps she had meant the comment literally after all, and though perhaps Chang might attempt to swallow her whole. Her legs crossed just a little tighter.

That was a poor train of thought. The wave of arousal and lust that it inspired creaked her shaft into iron hardness. "Allow me one more moment."

"Sure thing," Jason said, looking around the room, though her gaze kept being drawn back to fixate on some detail or other of Chang's countenance.

Chang pushed the watermelon - not yet beginning to be digested - up her throat. Its bulge moved upward sharply, flexing her sternum outwards then grotesquely warping her throat before forcing her mouth open around it. She caught it with strands of her hair, then extended it out to her cock.

"What are you-" Jason began, then stopped when she saw.

Again Chang stretched open down there, and shivered at the very real pleasure that came from the sensation. She pushed the watermelon in, and with a quantum rush, made a handful of changes down below.

She gulped with her transformed shaft, allowing Jason to watch the watermelon get sucked inside, and to observe the bulge slide down the length into Chang's hips, then up once again into her stomach.

"Oh," Jason said, her wondrous voice alive with surprise.

Chang smiled. "Yes," she said, her voice again becoming a flawless four-part harmony. "Thank you for that comment."

With sudden energy Chang flicked her arms out, and her hair snapped into a double helix behind her, then flared and began to cocoon her body. Through pure will alone Chang forced her body to obey, for her erection to fade, as her hair enwrapped her shaft and pulled it vertical against her body.

Her raven hair wrapped tight as skin around her, than molded into fish net stockings, thigh-high leather boots, a tight pvc halter top modified for her double cleavage. She wove swirls and patterns into the pvc, that real pvc could never have supported without taking damage in the process. The skin of her arms rippled like the surface of a pool under a gentle breeze, and in its wake her arms were left coloured in tattoos of brilliant shade and intricate design.

"That's an awful lot better," Jason said. "Thanks. That thing must get in the way a lot."

Chang shrugged. "In truth, until recently I've been ignoring it. Much the same as my 'prior associations' as you put it. It never ceases to amuse that my time with the Teragen is such an attractive talking point to everybody but me."

"Well, it's one of those topics that's in the news, you know?" Jason said, smiling amiably. She seemed much more comfortable now. "So are you coming?"

"Of course I am. You've smiled at me at least once, after all. The universe might be damaged where I to refuse it."

Jason flashed her another of those smiles, one that could have started a bitter, jealous war if it were not backed with the strength to decide its owner. "Ok. Well that was painless!"

The mention of Borealis, plus Jason's general behaviour, made Chang think that Jason had similar limits. Without doubt she had greater wit and manners, but the little things she could not quite hide put her in a similar though superior category.

Chang stretched her arm across towards Jason, then past her and snatched up an A4 pad and pen. As she retracted the arm she flooded herself with quantum, and her body began to bulge and distort.

She expanded and molded herself into the same medley of two comfortable chairs - one that her clothed body molded out of - and a seemingly well varnished wooden table of finest oak, covered by a purple cloth of fine silk, covered with Chinese characters. Chang put the pad on the table part of herself and her hand blurred, filling the air with the sound of a scratching pen.

"If you would like to sit," Chang said, "there is a chair now."

[Bombshell]

*That was undeniably the freakiest, most disturbin' shit I have ever seen, Jason thought in regards to Chang's Cock Lunch. And that includes wakin' up with a huge rack and my dick missing.

Not wanting to be rude - she certainly didn't enjoy being gawked at or disparaged for her appearance either - Jason but herself on auto-pilot, a natural charisma carrying through the conversation as her mind tried to assimilate the oddity and eccentricity that was Chang 'WhiteRain' Zha-Yang.

Which was why when Chang offered her a place to sit, she'd taken two strides closer without fully realizing what the chair was. Then her mind caught up, with an almost hysterical giggle.

"Uh... right, just how much do you feel when you're... like that?" Jason asked, gesturing with a slender-fingered hand, her long, perfect lashes fluttering as her glorious eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion and concern. A sudden image of that massive phallus rising up from the seat of the chair, to plunge into her, crossed her mind, and she folded her arms beneath her breasts. "I hope you aren’t offended or anything, but this isn't just a ploy to steal a free grope or... anything else, is it? Cuz I got to tell you, I don't appreciate it when people try to take liberties. I have a girlfriend and I stay faithful."

Chang's hand continued to blur, pausing only for the flick of turning pages. In the pen's wake, music lines, lyrics and notations were left behind. She did not look at the page as she wrote, nor at Jason when she spoke. Rather, Chang looked almost straight ahead, as if blind, though in truth she saw clearer than almost anyone.

Jason's words stung a little. Though Jason lacked Borealis' straightforward disgust, the suspicion in her tone and words were impossible to miss.

"This is my body," she said, "and this my skin," she rapped a knuckle on the table, which rang out like wood, though it was nothing of the sort. "I feel everything, and with precision that speech is challenged to describe. But I have no sexual intentions towards you. I believe that you still adhere to baseline codes of conduct and baseline standards of civility. This is the closest I am willing to come to those standards in the confines of my own home. If you would rather not sit, that is up to you." She smiled, and thought to turn to face Jason directly, for the expression would hardly have any effect directed at the wall. "I can assure you, I'm a lot more comfortable than any chair you've sat in recently."

Maybe it was because other than enhancement to her basic human attributes - extreme though those enhancements were - Jason didn't possess any truly fantastic powers, but she found Chang's torso rising from the seat of the chair somewhat unnerving, and not a little inhuman. Then again, the Teragen all say they aren't human, and Chang doesn't seem to differ in that. At least it doesn't seem she's overtly hostile to them either.

Jason shifted her weight to her other foot, her palpable tension easing slightly, a corner of her mouth quirking up in a faint grin. "I think I know what you mean... about the feeling thing anyway. A friend of mine developed something like that when she erupted too. Couldn't keep her hands off anything for a week." Jason glided forward - Her house, her rules - only a hint of doubt in her eyes as she placed a hand on the back of the offered chair to pull it out. Jason looked at it, hesitating. It was bizarre, no doubt. On the other hand, if Chang did try anything she didn't like, she was confident she could stop her before it went too far.

Chang could feel the exquisite smoothness of her fingers, the incredible, precisely restrained power in her grip, flawless nails pressing against her plush surface. Resolutely, Jason shifted the chair and sat down, crossing her legs instinctively in a sensually feminine manner. Her reticence, and the stubbornness to overcome it, was evident in the set of her jaw, the luminous brightness of her eyes. And it was true, Chang was the most comfortable chair she had ever sat in.

"So... no sexual intentions, hmm?" Jason said with a hint of doubt, lips widening slightly into a teasing grin. It was forced, but honest. Jason placed her hands flat on the table, sliding them across the tablecloth, eyes glancing at what Chang had written before obviously looking lower to where Chang no longer possessed the alluded sexual organ. Jason met Chang's eyes once more. "I know my appearance can cause autonomic responses - its why my TV show needs warnings for the viewers - but it seems to me one big part of you was interested."

Chang suppressed a shiver of delight at the touch of Jason's skin. Her every dream and thought of holding a lover inside herself, of posing as a bed for some vague unshaped shadow lover, became concrete and real in this moment. It felt right. Even in the suppressing of her reaction, Chang wondered if she did Jason a disservice. The woman seemed to have a stouter, perhaps even nobler heart than people gave her credit for.

She finished her writing with a final blur of motion, then spun the pad round and pushed it across the table to Jason. On it she saw, written in flawless script, a song, with complete musical notations for all the instruments and lyrics to go with it.

Chang gave a nod. "No sexual intentions. A physical response does not in and of itself denote intention. One's mind and body can be at odds, and one can overpower the other. You are beautiful, yes. I would make love to you were the option offered, likewise yes. But that is not and was not my intent. I have not had sexual interaction of any sort, nor at any level, for several years now. One day, that may change. I hope it does."

Her voice rose and fell as she spoke, vocalizations multiplying and separating again in a strange, fluid scale that made a music all of its own. Jason could hear the sincerity in the words, and also a hint of buried sadness.

“I'm sure it will," Jason said automatically, a bit more of her tension easing and gave Chang a grateful nod. She was even growing used to the cadence of Chang's multi-tonal voice in casual conversation, unless it was the music of her voice itself easing her. "I couldn't have said it so clearly myself. So few understand the distinction between sexual responses and sexual intentions." Her grin turned wry. "In most cases, few want to."

Jason picked up the proffered pad of paper, and perused the musical notation. She mouthed the words, her own melodious voice a bare whisper that carried clearly to Chang's sensitive ears, vibrated across the surface of her transformed flesh. Jason leaned forward, an elbow on the table, her shapely chin cupped in a hand as she read-sang the lyrics of 'Angel of Harmony and Despair' to herself. A touch more enticing cleavage peeked through the unbuttoned top of her shirt, though Chang didn't get the sense Jason was doing it on purpose.

"Nice!" Jason complimented her. "A rock ballad, of a sort?" Chang gave her captivating guest a succinct nod. Jason shook her head wonderingly, her long tail of silky, silver hair tickling the back of the chair. "I'd love to hear it with the musical accompaniment. You wrote this, just now? Didn't even have the idea until you sat down? Danielle can do something like that, but mostly uses it for reading, paper work, and doing the dishes."

Chang delighted in the slight shifts and touches of Jason's skin and hair. Her curves, her angles, Chang relished them all. The soft, supple skin-leather of the chair molded so well. This is sensual, she thought. Not sexual.

Though Jason unconsciously offered her cleavage, Chang did not focus on it. She saw it of course - she saw everything - but she focused on Jason's face, on her lips, her eyes, and the gorgeous curls of her hair. Lust was unavoidable, but respect had to be given. Chang would not lower herself to the base level of most of those who Bombshell encountered and no doubt dismissed. How could she not?

"Of a sort," she said. "I had the beginnings of the song in mind yesterday. Your arrival provided the necessary inspiration to complete it. I offer it as possible new entrance music. Your current theme is," she paused, aware that this could be seen as rude, "lacking, in my opinion. You are a being of extremes, as are most novas. I believe this song cuts closer to that bone, as does the music. Of course it's up to you. I'm led to believe you're quite satisfied with your current depictions in the media and the XWF. If you decide on a makeover in the future, though," she gestured at the pad, "well, there you are. It's not my usual style. More ostentatious than I prefer by far, and altogether too complicated, but I match my music to the subject, or at least I try to."

Chang regarded her own hand for a moment, though to Jason it seemed she just raised one and turned it this way and that. "And yes, I am quite swift. It makes for a rather impressive rate of produce. I can write an entire album in five minutes, if I'm so inclined. That's the funny thing. That first album, which everyone said seemed so in depth, so researched... I wrote the entire thing in eight minutes, seven seconds. Twelve songs. A little under thirty seconds per song."

Jason pursed her full lips and gave a low, sultry whistle. Chang was just giving her an original song. One she really wanted to hear now. From what she could gather, it was sexy and powerful, almost anthemic in parts, and fun, yet deep. If Freddie Mercury had been a Nova, 'Bohemian Rhapsody' might have ended up something like this. It had been written practically for her - sure, she was given stuff all the time, but mostly, the gifts came with ulterior motives. Chang's only motive seemed to be thinking her persona didn't do her justice.

Jason snorted delicately, tapping the pad on the table. "'Satisfied with my current depiction in the media and the XWF.' Let's say rather, I understand it. I accept the things I'm proud of, and ignore most of the rest, which are mostly lies. As for my entrance music... well, I could have probably put more work into that. I'd heard the song recently, liked it, and the XWF had the license for it." Jason shrugged and tapped the pad again, her gaze direct, showing little evidence of her discomfort with the inhuman seeming WhiteRain. "Even not hearing it to music, I like this better."

The argent-mane amazon pinched her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger, glancing over the song once more. Finally, she shook her head, her innate stubbornness rearing its head once more. A lot of what she was willing to accept from the media was based on her not wanting to feel like a hypocrite - she had gawked over Nova-hotties as a guy, how could she fault others now that she was one? Still, it didn't meant she had to play up to all the stereotypes.

"As much as I want to accept your gift of 'The Angel of Harmony and Despair,' it's too much," Jason asserted firmly, her voice full of iron and silver. "If you want me to have it, I insist on doing something for you in return."

Chang cocked her head at an angle, like a bird. "That seems reasonable, though I've nothing to ask of you at this time. Though you shouldn't assume this is some unalloyed celebration of your peerless beauty." Her voice turned smooth, melodic, thoughtful. "It must grow tedious, knowing before you meet someone how they will react. Your essence gives nobody any choice in the matter. They must want you. Their body will demand it. I wonder, though, if you've seen the darker side of that? I doubt you ever could, because nobody can see you but be uplifted.

Yet in your absence, they are left with the cold emptiness of knowing that they share the world with you, and will never, ever, come close to matching you. They look to their lovers, and do not even see a pale shadow of your beauty. There is horror in that, Jason. There is pain and suffering. And they despair, because they don't know how to deal with your absence, anymore than they can deal with your presence. This song is a celebration of you, Jason. And such a celebration can be a harrowing experience."

She pushed the pad toward Jason again. "Compose it. Listen to it. Think on it. Grow. That will be my payment. As an artist, it's all I can ever ask, and in truth, it's more than I usually do. If you must give me something concrete, well, you already have, haven't you?" For a moment, Jason looked confused. "The invitation to the charity event?"

Chang watched, then, wondering how Jason might be feeling. She had a cool, collected air about her. It belied her image, put falsehood on the facile headlines and articles written about the 'Bombshell'. Chang liked it. She wondered, though, how Jason would feel when she listened to the song, and whether or not she'd feel half as grateful.

Jason sighed deeply, a shadow of melancholy passing over her easygoing nature as she picked up the pad. Obviously, something in Chang's observations had touched her, and deeply. She waved a hand negligently. "The Charity Event doesn't count," she said softly. "It's not for you or me, it's for the victims of the Victoria Crush."

Suddenly, Jason stood up, pushing her chair back sharply enough to make Chang wince, and began pacing her host's apartment, needing to expel some of the emotions rising beneath her breast. Chang's song had struck a deep cord she rarely took the time to delve on.

"I know... how it feels for some of the people," Jason finally admitted. She wasn't sure why she was telling Chang this. Katya knew, but the only one she had ever talked about this with was Danielle. Maybe it was because Chang was so direct without being blunt... sort of. She had her own relationship with the rest of the world, just she as she did. Even if they did occupy opposite ends of the spectrum, both of their positions were extreme.

"I get letters, lawsuits, from all sorts of people. Most of them are actually quite nice, uplifting even. People I've never met who claim I've helped them. Then there are the protestations of love, lust, marriage - what they want to do to me. Some are funny, some are graphic, some are completely gross. But those I understand."

Jason ran a long finger along the kitchen counter, eying all the food and other objects on it, little of seeming to go together, then glanced around the apartment again, studying the areas devoted to painting, sculpture, even photography. Then she face Chang again, and even her frown was a thing of heart-rending beauty.

"And then there are other ones. Claims that I have destroyed marriages, turned women gay, forced men to get a sex-change in imitation of me, and those men then saying they made a mistake. All sorts of things." Jason gave a shudder and folded her arms, then her eyes hardened. "It's hard to deal with sometimes, but I can't do anything about what others feel." Jason snorted again, blowing a long strand of hair from her face. "It ain't one of my powers. But I'm not going hide myself away and having Dani helps, helps a lot."

Jason rolled her shoulders, the movement eerily fluid for someone without malleable bones, her expression lightening. She felt oddly unburdened getting that off her chest. "So, really, I think maybe... your song - my song as you put it - is something I should hear, hafta hear."

Her tone was earnest and determined and didn't soften as she continued, waving at the various areas of Chang's apartment. "And I still owe you for putting the revelation into words I never could. I think neither of us want this to be exchanged in a purely monetary fashion, but I have an idea. You said I inspired you to write 'Angel of Harmony and Despair,' how 'bout I pose for a portrait or a photoshoot or something?"

"Do you think that would be fair?" Jason smiled. There was a note of obligation in her note, but she was clearly determined to fulfill it and didn't see it as onerous, simply fair. "Just keep the monster between your legs under control and under wraps, eh?"

Chang listened to Jason's confession, soaking up every word. It felt strange to be taken into confidence, yet familiar. It reminded her of friendship, of long walks by rivers, of nights mis-spent and forgotten. Of things that Chang had never really experienced, but had listened in on vicariously for years.

She rolled her shoulders, and her body let out a great creaking sound, not at all like flesh, but a mix of leather, wood and bone twisting together as table and chairs were flattened, sucked back into Chang's mass. She reformed standing, perfect again, cock thick and powerful, but tucked away inside her clothes, still pinned against her body by her hair.

Chang stretched her arm over to her kitchen, and scooped up some of the shards of glass. She popped them in her mouth and bit down, crunching before swallowing them. "How interesting," she said, "I can taste the sand grains that went into this."

It occurred to her that Jason might think she was being mocked or ignored. "Thank you for sharing that, Jason. It is my belief that we should explore ourselves, our natures, not hiding from that which is unpleasant or shocking. Rather I think we should celebrate it, celebrate all we are, instead of just the parts which are 'acceptable' or 'pleasant'. I hope this song might help you do that. Because you don't need to put out of your mind the pain you cause. You can glory in it, in a way. Because it's part of you, and you're glorious, as I'm sure any mirror will let you know."

Her lip quirked in a mysterious smile. Jason could not know the reason for it, for she knew very little about the Teragen and less about Teras. Chang felt as though she were trying to be a teacher here, for truly, had Jason come to her and sought enlightenment, sought the chrysalis, these are the things Chang would have said.

She approached Jason and stoof looking up at her. Chang stretched her arm up a little, and not-quite put her hand on Jason's cheek. To actually touch would be too much. But the motion was close enough to carry over the meaning. "You know, I don't actually care about the victims of the Crush. That's what's bothered me most about all this. People are assuming I care when I don't. So why donate?"

Chang shook her head. She would answer that another day. Let Jason think about it for now, if she were so inclined. "I'll whip something up for the event. My presence could be a detriment as much as an assistance. Perhaps the produce of our session. Perhaps something else. As for your offer? I accept. I'll think up something special.

But I have a condition, hinging on my acceptance. I want you to ponder why I donated six point two million dollars to the Crush fund, despite not caring about the baselines, their suffering, or what happens to them next. Sorry to be awkward. It's in my nature. I hope you've enjoyed this meeting, and I equally hope to offer my hospitality again."

Chang led Bombshell to the door, comfortable in the quiet between them. She wondered if Jason thought less of her with that admission in the open, or maybe if she outright did not believe it. Either way, she would have an answer in a day or two, once she had considered the best way to take advantage of this unique opportunity.

She warped her finger into the door key and unlocked it, then opened the door and bowed as Bombshell swept past her and out into the world beyond Chang's studio, the world that idolized Jason, and quaked at her every perfect step.