He held himself like someone who'd just gotten back from the gym, his legs a little weak, his back straight, and his arms not exactly touching his sides.

He looked at me funny for a second before his usual grin returned.

"Yeah Missy, just had to help a girl in Skitter's territory. She was carrying around a whole lot of baggage."

Taylor Gets Dicked

(Автор: Blessed Dreams)

The Shaper shard was discontent to the point of awareness of its own discontent.

So much progress early on. So much progress that it had already budded, spun off the rapid restoration of a creature's health to another hominid in hopes of more interesting results. From that endeavor, it had made some progress, but that had halted.

It's original host remained stuck, trapped in an endless cycle of repetition. It was no good, there simply wasn't much to be learned anymore, and it encouraged its host to move on at great length, without success.

The creature planned new things but refused to test them. It considered all manner of alterations to the mind, many to the whole body, and no small few to the sexual organs. It would plan these things, understand how to do them, and to do this the Shaper invested the energy to develop these plans. Time and again, they amounted to nothing; all thought, no action.

It had learned so much early on, to the point where it had a dim awareness of both its host and its compatriots. But the host would not change, no matter how strongly it had been prodded. Both the first and second hosts had been prodded many times and now seemed to respond little. A new host would solve this problem, but that had not happened yet. A new bud would offer new opportunities, but there was not enough new information gathered to build a second bud.

It's dim awareness perked up, as it recognized a logical fallacy in its thoughts; it had not gathered enough information, but that did not mean that not enough information had been gathered.

It peered through the layers at those creatures it perceived to be of its kind. Some of them pulsed, some of them were dim. One was distended, damaged; much of that one was exposed. When the Shaper examined it and understood what was there, it quickly recorded all that it could. The data of a similar kind, stuff of biological matter, cloning, but greater in scope, touching on the shards themselves.

The Shaper gobbled up all that it could, and it was enough. Together with its own hosts aborted, untested material, there was now enough for a new bud. The Shaper constructed the bud with care; it would not see its past mistakes repeated. The power was closely linked to biological and social functions necessary to hominids, the influence of which shaped their lives. It would meddle, inciting the host to action from the start, before it was inured to such influence; if it started early, it should acquire the habit of responding rather than resisting.

It then searched for a host.

* * *

My head hurt, my vaj ached, and my butt was downright sore. I'd had headaches before, but those other two were new. My eyes were bleary, but that was normal for mornings; I reached for my glasses, found them, put them on. Still bleary, but enough to figure out that it wasn't the lights that were too bright, it was the window. Shit. It was definitely morning. I was still waking up, confused, when the screaming claimed my attention.

"All you, get out! I call cops! All you, out!"

The words were English, but shrieked in a hideous, ear-scraping scream of a Chinese accent.

I grabbed at the sheets, and was surprised to find no comforter, but what I could find I pulled over me as I shoved my face into the pillow.

"Get out! All you you!"

I heard the voice approaching, but... no. I pulled the sheets tight.

My gut clenched as I heard the door knob turn and the door open. I suspected what was coming, but couldn't bring myself to move.

"You! Slut girl! Give me sheets!"

I was still at first, confused. She couldn't really mean that, I was naked under here.

"Give me sheets lazy girl!"

Crap. She might be serious. I was still pretty sure that she'd let it go if I stalled her long enough, and if she'd just shut up and let me get all the way woken up I'd be able to deal with this. Then the sheets startled to slide. I grabbed at them, but one of my arms was still halfway asleep and the other hand got only a few inches of cloth before it was pulled from my grasp. The cold hit me, and I shrieked.

"What the hell?"

"Lazy slut girl get off bed now!"

I rolled off the bed, scrambling to find the floor so I could get away from the furious woman who probably owned the house I'd passed out in. Having carried out her threat, I wanted no part of her. I stumbled, got on my knees, and started looking for my clothes. I eyeballed my blouse, on the ground and against the wall across the room, but I really wanted my undergarments first. I searched, started picking things up and moving them as cloth rustled behind me. I assumed it was the dragon lady taking the sheets off the bed. To my displeasure I was soon proven correct.

"You!" Her volume was at least half again louder, and even shriller. "Filthy girl! Look, you ruin sheets!"

I stood, shakily, and looked. She was right; the fitted sheet had an uneven blotch on the middle of it, and the cover sheet was even worse, a group of brown smears near one corner.

"I'm sorry." I was sorry for a lot of things. Her bedsheets weren't one of them, but it cost me nothing to placate her and make this awful situation end. I stared at her, then spoke again.

"I'm really sorry. I can, um, can I make it up you?"

She stared at me for a moment, and it gave me time to get a better look at her. From clothes to stance she looked quite traditional, much of what I expected from older Asian woman in her fifties or perhaps sixties. Pinched expression, but that might just be this situation. After a moment, she grunted at me, and walked around the room picking up my clothes. When I moved to help her, she swatted my arm away angrily.

"I get."

I stood back, content to let her pick things up if she really needed to. Soon, most of my belongings were piled on the bed next to the two stained sheets. Blouse, skirt, socks, flats, purse. No panties or bra, but I didn't even care anymore, thankful to know that I'd be covered soon. I moved toward the bed, but the woman moved as soon as I did and grabbed the sheets, quickly pushing them at me. They fluffed up over my head and she started shouting again.

"Cover yourself, slut girl!"

Confused, I grappled with the sheets. I got one in one hand, the other in the other, and they fell away, out of position. It was a few moments before I had the two sheets matched up and wrapped around me, the stains obscured with the dot on the inside and the grimy brown streaks inward against the inner sheet. The woman had my clothes, and the flats were on the floor near me.

"I want my clothes."

It was weak. I felt weak, I wasn't ready to fight someone who was already up to shouting in my face. As I finished with the sheets, my purse was forced against my face. I took it, I didn't want to lose it, but I wanted my clothes too!

"You ruin sheets, you take sheets. I sell clothes, buy sheets."

I started to build some energy, heat in my voice that I felt in my gut. This was all too much, and she was making everything even worse minute by minute. The flats didn't help my mood; they slid most of the way on before hitching up, both left and right requiring adjustment to fit.

"Give me my clothes!" I demanded when I finally stood on two shoes.

Undeterred, she shouted back, "I already call cops! You go, you complain to cops, either good!"

I tried to imagine that conversation, explaining to some hard-eyed officer about how it was I came to 'damage her property'. I really couldn't deal with that. Under no circumstances could I deal with having that discussion with both a cop and my dad. I flinched, and ran for the door.

Things started blurring. Wasn't sure if it was tears, or some sort of breakdown. Waving down a cab proved easy.

"Hospital, Police, or somewhere else."

"I want to go home."

"You sure? You look pretty knocked up."

Coping with the bastard cabbie proved more difficult. Even with my discomfort, the ride blurred, and the next thing I knew I was forking over most of my on-hand cash, outside my house. I rushed to my door, opened it, and was inside as quick as I could manage. I took the stairs at a sprint, barreled into my room, and closed the door assertively behind me.

I flopped on my bed staring at the ceiling, a painful tightness in my chest loosening. My dad hadn't been up, and if he had, well, the worst I could be accused of was coming home too late. For a few blessed moments, I relaxed, utterly relieved. Then I started thinking. About what I'd done.

About who I'd done.

I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been, drinking like that. It was all so obvious in retrospect how things played out.

Except, part of my revolted at that. The part of me that remembered Emma from the before time couldn't begin to comprehend that she would be part of.. of.. something I couldn't even wrap my head around. The feeling persisted, and soon it was all I could think about. What was so disgusting about me that I deserved all this? What was so wretched about me?

I looked down at the sheets I was wearing. One of them had come loose, and a dark brown spot stared up at me. From the right angle, it looked sort of eye-shaped. I stared at it. I stared, and stared, and in time all I could think about was my bodily fluids and where they'd go—

TRAJECTORY?

Unintelligible madness.

AGREEMENT.

I shook my head, dazed. When my eyes left the spot, there was a dark spot on the center of my vision as if I'd somehow burned it in. I blinked, and it was gone.

Was this some sort of panic attack?

I sat up in my bed, took stock of myself, and decided that while I wasn't panicking, I was covered in disgusting sheets from yesterday evening that I totally didn't need in my own bedroom. I shucked them off and flopped on my back again, naked but less burdened.

An overwhelming need to use the bathroom seized me. It wasn't surprising; I'd gotten up less than an hour ago, and hadn't gone yet. Dealing with this would normally have been a simple matter, but today it wasn't; the urge to release grew astoundingly over a span of seconds.

There was a sensation of fullness in my groin such as I'd never felt before. Fullness like this.. in a moment of horror, I came to the realization that I was going to wet the bed. I clenched; that was absolutely not going to happen. I would hold it in. I would hold it in, catch my breath, stand up, and sprint for the bathroom as no girl had every sprinted before. I—

Without fanfare, without a sound, with a startling sensation of fleshing moving on flesh and a hint of release, a cock emerged from my cooch. Erect, a little over half a foot and about two thumbs wide, skin color that matched my own, a head mostly covered in foreskin; uncut. I gasped out a breath, sucked one in, and held the breath. Staring. Waiting. This was going to change.

It didn't change. Also, I still felt the pressure I'd thought meant I had to use the bathroom.

With the index finger of my right hand, I ever so carefully tapped the penis on the head. I felt it.

Tapped it again. Felt it again.

Gave it a careful whack, and it swung to the left, back to the right, back to the left, eventually centering pointed at my face. On closer examination, there was a pronounced upward hook to the penis. It was starting to ache from the strain of holding in what I had thought was a need to pee.

Increasingly numb and lacking the will to oppose whatever horror was taking over my life, I let go and relaxed. As I breathed out the sensation abruptly began to fade, a rushing sensation filling my new appendage. Golden fluid sprung from the tip in a messy, uneven spray that went less than a foot into the air before dribbling back on to my naked torso. I grabbed at the cock but that made it worse; when the foreskin was pulled back, the stream burst upwards to three feet in height.

I panicked and squeezed my hand tight, but after a second or two that felt awful and I let go, flopping to the side in frustration and anger. An arc of urine splattered across the walls of my bedroom and I yelped, realizing this could get even worse if I didn't do something to deal with it. I scrambled onto all fours on my bed, urine now spraying onto my sheets, and dove for the soiled sheets. With the dick emptying into the pile of sheets I relaxed, let the rest of it go. Really didn't care if they were any worse; they were going in the garbage for sure.

I rolled onto my back, and found that while some of my own sheets were wet, most of them weren't. I really wished the cock weren't there, tried to suck my crotch in the way I sometimes did my gut. To my surprise, a pleasant sensation of movement in my vaj as my cock was enclosed in warm flesh. I kept sucking in and even the full sensation faded. Good enough. I took stock again.

My situation was extreme, but not impossible. Things like this usually only happened in Greg's cartoons, but there was another explanation. Capes. Parahumans. Powers.

Some people got awesome powers, combinations of flight, invulnerability, and strength of body and mind like Alexandria. Some people got powers that made them tough, like Aegis, or fast, like Velocity, or strong; Armsmaster's power suit could, and had, catch a thrown automobile.

I, Taylor Hebert, got a retractable cock.

Just to make sure, I pushed out weakly with my crotch, and sure enough the cock emerged. Smaller this time, I thought, maybe five inches. Craning my neck, I poked it with the edge of my middle finger nail.

The cock seemed even smaller. Then, smaller still. No, I realized, the cock wasn't going away, my eyes were defocusing.

There was the panic attack.

Descent

(Автор: Helpless Kitten)

Forewarning, dark. Contains rape and not the fun hentai kind where they're both secretly into it. Also not very sexy.

* * *

Greg Veder watched Taylor Hebert as she ducked out of Mr. Gladly's classroom. Sure, she had been pretty cold to him when he had approached her before but persistence has a charm of it's own, right? It's not like she was really spoiled for friends anyways. Maybe he could be the one to end that loneliness. He gathered his stuff and hurried after the object of his attraction. Today would be the day, he told himself, he would talk to her and she would see that—