The Sculptor Ch. 02

NOTE: Sorry this chapter took so long to write. I wrote Chapter 1 while my wife was away on a long trip, and can't really get a second to myself to write these days. Doing my best. Also, I'm aware Zoe is a bit of an anachronism. Bear with me.

I intended a couple of additional sex scenes to be included in this chapter, before realizing how friggin' long it turned out to be. So those will be in a separate chapter (2b maybe). Same deal with an "interlude" that turned out to be long enough to be a standalone chapter. I don't publish much, but I write a lot!

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PART ONE: PURPLE

Erika scans the crowded bar-room. "How about her?"

I squint to make out the girl she's pointing at in the dim light. Cute Asian punk girl in heavy makeup wearing a distressed Black Flag T-shirt and miniskirt. Fishnets ending a bit below her skirt's hemline, combat boots, maybe just barely old enough to be in here at all. Solid ink-black hair, tied up in pigtails. Several visible facial piercings. She's waiting to order a drink, but can't get a bartender's attention -- she's too short. 5 foot 1, maybe, counting the boots' thick soles. She'd be lucky to clear 5 foot nothing in bare feet.

I sip my beer thoughtfully. "What do you want me to do?"

"What do I -- anything you want, dummy. Don't tell me about it. That's the point. I want to see if I can figure it out."

"Okay, sure." I seize the moment and the entire bar falls eerily silent and still. The gaggle of loud middle-aged women at the table next to ours stops mid-laugh. Some sleazy-looking guy is about midway through getting a drink thrown in his face, which is hilarious. I sketch that quickly from my seat, then rise and begin inspecting my newest subject.

For the first time in my life, I didn't choose this subject myself, so I don't really feel like making any huge, sweeping changes. For Erika's first experiment I probably shouldn't change too much anyway. At any rate this girl -- Zoe Kim, age 21 and newly a senior at NYU, as I read on the ID she has already preemptively clutched in one emo-gloved hand -- is in pretty good shape already, honestly. She's even wearing nice underwear already: a peekaboo thong over the garters holding up her strategically-torn thigh-high fishnets. I give her what I have begun thinking of as the standard upgrade package -- no more body hair (although she's dutifully holding up her end of this one already), dulled gag reflex, improved sexual sensitivity in a number of strategic places. It's the least I can do for her for being such a good sport. I'd bra-proof her breasts, but they're small and firm enough that they're basically bra-proof already. The fact that Zoe is braless tonight suggests she agrees on that point.

Then, after taking a while to think about it, I stroke at her hair, and it turns a solid bright attention-grabbing royal purple. An obvious change for Erika to spot, but it works with Zoe's look. Then, as an afterthought, I take her boots and go out hunting in the frozen world for a good place to find a replacement. I end up finding one in a shoe store in a nearby shopping center. Same size, similar style, but they're fitted and laced all the way up to the knee, with three inches of platform and an additional three of chunky heel. Again, a pretty aggressive fashion choice, but if anyone can pull it off, Zoe can. I still drop her old boots off at the address listed on her driver's license, though -- they might have sentimental value to her. I've watched Freaks and Geeks.

Once I'm back in the bar, I toughen Zoe's calves and feet up a bit just in case she's not used to walking in heels as towering as these, then fit them onto her. She has to be 5'6" in these things. She should have no trouble catching the bartender's eye now! Satisfied, I put the rest of her clothes back onto her, fit her ID back into her hand where I found it, and return to my seat. The world resumes its pace.

Erika sips her drink contemplatively, staring at Zoe intensely. "Let me know when you're about to do it so I can get a good mental image." I just laugh. "I already did it. Just now." "What???" Erika slaps my arm playfully. "No way! What did you do?" I grin and take a big, well-deserved pull from my beer. "A bunch of things you can't see. And one or two you can. Take a guess." She leans forward, eyes agape, as Zoe easily places her drink order with her newfound height. "I... I can't tell. I'm trying to figure it out, and even though I know you did something, I can't tell what it is." "The hair. You want to be looking at her hair." She squints. "Is it the pigtails? Seems like kind of an unusual style." "Nope, that was all her. I did the color." Erika 's mouth drops open. "Holy shit. It... It didn't even occur to me that maybe you'd changed the color. It just wasn't an option to me. It wasn't purple before?" "Nope. Black." "God damn it! It was just black? Shit!" Erika kills what's left of her flavored martini and leans back in her chair, still in shock. "I can't believe you turned a girl's hair purple, right in front of me, while I was staring at her, and I didn't notice. Will she notice?" "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe somebody she knows will notice, and maybe not. If she notices, or if someone else points it out to her, she'll probably decide she did it herself. It doesn't seem like it'd be so out-of-character for her, anyway. Their minds usually settle on whatever the simplest non-supernatural explanation is, and that becomes the new truth." "Can she change it back?" "She can. But she probably won't. Not for a while. Part of the effect is that if someone thinks a change was their own decision, they'll also think it was a good decision, unless it's plainly and obviously bad for them, in which case they'll probably be in denial for a little while, then 'change their minds' about it. A girl like that, though? I'd say there's a 50-50 chance that when she drops her unborn children off at their college dorm for their freshman year, her hair will still be purple. I could have made purple her natural hair color and she'd probably never think twice about it."

Erika isn't convinced. "You're telling me that if she had to dye her hair black, and it grew back purple, she wouldn't think there was anything weird about that?"

"I... yeah, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't. I can't say for sure what the rationalization would be, but either she'd think of something or she'd forget about it. You have to understand, nobody fights me on these things. You're the first girl who's ever been anything less than a willing participant in the changes I make." "All because I saw your painting." I favor her with a smile. "Or maybe you're just the smartest girl I've ever met." She nestles her head in my shoulder. "It can be both." Her smile fades as that analytical brain of hers gets back into high gear. "So... what rationalization did Katie have? For what you did to her?" I shrug. Why waste a thought on Katie? "I didn't ask, and I don't care." "Well, try to think of something. For science." I finish my beer. "Maybe she decided she must have gotten mugged. Her purse was gone, after all. Or maybe she decided she willingly stripped naked and tied herself up in the street with a buttplug in her ass, because she's a huge closet freak who's into some really crazy shit. I can't really say unless I ask her." "Well, I'm going to ask the punk girl. Worst case, even if she realizes something's up, she can't blame you for it because she has no connection to you, unless you also spent a night having crazy superhuman marathon sex with her like you did to me." I shrug. "Her name is Zoe. But be my guest." Erika rubs her chin, staring at Zoe. "We should work in some other experiments in the meantime, though. Kill a bunch of birds with one stone." She turns to me again, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Can you give her a fetish?"

I frown. "I dunno, that's a little much for me." Erika swats my arm again. "Oh please. You can grow a girl's G-spot to cover her entire body, or, like, give her a second clit in her throat or whatever, but you can't make her like licking people's butts? Bullshit." "I only know how to change physical stuff. Tinkering around with someone's brain would be, like, brain surgery. I can't do that." "That's not true at all! You can do that Recall thing. Maybe go and find out what her fetishes already are, to start." I raise an eyebrow. "Are you telling me I should search through this girl's memories, in real time, until I have successfully catalogued each and every one of her turn-ons?" She rolls her eyes. "No, I'm telling you there's a good chance your powers can do more with people's minds than you're giving them credit for right now. Y'know what? Don't use Recall at all. We're trying to unlock new powers, not find the most mind-numbingly-boring possible use cases for old ones. Just try to learn some juicy tidbits about her. If you can see what grade a girl got in 9th-grade Spanish, there's no reason you can't see what makes her crotch go all gooshy." That seems kind of reductive to me, but there's no reason I can't try, I guess. "I'll give it a shot. Be right back." I pause time, pick Zoe up from her chair, and carry her over to mine.

INTERLUDE: EVERY TIME

"Okay, how long until we take it out of the oven?" I go to the wall where I've hung the recipe and scan through it for the relevant line. "Looks like... twenty-five minutes, then we take the foil off and put it back in for another ten." "Great, that should be enough time." "For what?"

Erika had been wearing a dress and a cardigan, but I turn around to find she's dropped them both on the floor and is now stark naked except for earrings and heels. I've noticed she hasn't really been big on panties since I took away the ones she was wearing the day we met. She walks toward me seductively, swaying her hips, hands faux-shyly tucked behind her back, a huge grin on her face. She places one arm on the wall behind me, presses her body to mine, and kisses me passionately.

My hands immediately rise to her naked body and begin caressing it all over; her free hand makes a beeline for my crotch and begins softly massaging me to hardness. One of her feet comes off the ground, throwing more of her weight against me. We make out like that for a few minutes, until she is moaning and squirming from my hands all over her, at which point I gently nudge downward on her shoulders and she drops rapidly to her knees, eagerly fishes my hard cock out of my pants, and gives it a single hasty lick from base to tip before impatiently gobbling it into her mouth.

I lean against the wall, my hands keeping Erika's long pretty hair out of her eyes as she bobs up and down on me, her left hand stroking ahead of her mouth and her right beginning to delve between her legs. She does fine work with her lips and tongue for a little while, but soon enough the extra nerve endings I put in her throat do their intended job and she's repeatedly ramming me down her esophagus, full-on fucking herself with both hands and making animal noises around my cock during the brief moments when her throat is clear. When she's taken me down to the last inch or so, I place a hand on the back of her head and push it down as far as it will go, until her nose is buried in my pubic hair, and she spasms, her hands a blur at her crotch.

This time I don't want to use my powers to marathon-fuck her. I consider it a kink, like tying a girl up or spanking her, and today I'm not feeling particularly kinky. So I stop her before either of us gets too close (she's closer than me, it seems), pull her to her feet, kiss her deeply once more, then continue lifting her into a fireman's carry. She laughs, yelps in mock-terror, and flails her arms and legs as I settle her over my shoulder. I take her to my bed, and dump her unceremoniously onto it. She giggles some more as she rolls to her back and spreads her legs. Her arms are unconsciously splayed above her head with her wrists crossed -- I'm still not feeling kinky, but I can't resist pinning them there with one hand as I use the other to line myself up with her.

This is our third time having sex total -- the first time was after our first date; the second time was the next day, right after I revealed to her that she'd just eaten a full picnic lunch completely naked in public. But it's our first time having sex without her being bound and gagged. For that matter, it's the first time I've done it that way with anyone in months. So both of us are surprised at the level of noise that starts coming out of her mouth almost immediately. The first time I thrust is met with a sharp intake of breath; the second time she lets that breath out by yelling "OH GOD YES!"

We both freeze and trade amused, embarrassed looks. The walls in my building aren't particularly thick. But there's no way we're stopping over something like this. So I gently place one hand over her mouth, and soon enough we're fucking again, with her yelping, moaning, and screaming muffled obscenities into my hand as I pound away at her, my other hand still pinning her to the mattress.

An embarrassingly short time later I have to pull out and spray a load of cum all over her stomach and chest. I'm not too proud to say that our first time without supernatural help I can't hold out that long with Erika's eerily-perfect body cumming hard around my cock every 30 seconds or so. She doesn't seem to mind; she's gasping for breath and somehow drenched in sweat already, like we'd been going for an hour.

"I can't... believe... it's like that... every time," she manages to say between gasps, blonde hair plastered to her forehead. "This wasn't even kinky. This was normal-ass... missionary-style relationship sex... while waiting for the lasagna to cook. Nothing beforehand but a quick blowjob. And I still came like a fucking freight train. A bunch of times. Really fast."

"It was a LITTLE kinky," I point out. "You almost came with my cock in your throat. And you're a LOT nakeder than me. And I pinned you down and covered your mouth, and then at the end of it I came all over you."

She grins and winks at me, mostly recovered. "Those don't count as kinks. I love being naked for you, and as far as I'm concerned choking on your cock and getting pinned down are, like, the baseline for having sex. If those are kinks, I'm the kinkiest little bitch ever born." She drags one finger up her sticky midsection, gathering up a dollop of jizz onto it, and slowly, seductively licks it clean, keeping eye contact with me the whole time. "And you know what the thing is about your little slave girl, master? She likes it... really kinky." She brings her other hand down to her crotch and starts to play with herself for me as she cleans more cum off of her belly, moaning sensuously.

I didn't realize how into this slave girl stuff she was until now, but it's certainly not a deal-breaker for me. After watching her play for a little while, I decide she's right and I'm feeling kinky today after all. The next time she opens her eyes, I'm back at full mast, she's got a nice fat buttplug in her ass, and all four of her limbs are tied to my headboard again, just like our first night. This time, though, her mouth is completely free and unobstructed. "Did you like putting on a show for me?"I ask.

She nods dreamily, staring at my cock. "Yes, I did, Master."

"Well, you're gonna put on another little show now," I tell her, lining myself up with her pussy.

By the time the lasagna is done, I think everyone on my whole damn block has heard exactly how much she likes her master's cock in each of her respective holes.

PART 2: ZOE'S PORN BREAK

I'm seated in my chair at the bar with the naked, frozen body of Zoe Kim straddling my lap, her forehead gently touching mine. I guess she probably doesn't have to be naked for this exact operation, come to think of it. Force of habit.

No matter what, I can't seem to will myself into this girl's mind any way except the one way I already knew how to do. I can peek into her memories all I want, but if there's a way to get an Excel spreadsheet of her turn-ons out of her brain, I have no idea what it is.

The key to Recall is empathy. The first time I used it, I found a girl crying at a bus stop, similarly to how I first found Erika, and I wanted to know what had made her sad so badly that I pulled her forehead to mine in the kind of overdramatic display an artist will occasionally be prone to if nobody's watching, and suddenly I did know. It turns out that girl was sad about having just said goodbye to her best friend who was moving away to Seattle, so I couldn't really help her much beyond giving her really nice tits, but knowing how to use Recall was its own reward. It's easy to dredge up that kind of empathy when your goal is to learn what kinds of experiences shaped a woman, but not so much if you just want to know which abstract concepts make her the juiciest in her panties.

Maybe that's the problem: all I really know about Zoe Kim is that she really likes Black Flag. I need to get to know her better. Erika won't be happy, but I think my only path forward is to use Recall after all. I clear my head and peer into Zoe's past.

I am riding on the F train... no, that won't help. I am in my room, studying for an econ exam... God no. Next memory, please. I am having trouble deciding which outfit to wear to the Pierce The Veil show... not relevant, but I stick around for this one anyway. Nice.

I am at Zach's party, talking to this cute guy about the new Against Me album. Okay, this memory has promise. I skip forward twenty minutes. I am at Zach's party, getting another rum & coke... nope, they haven't left yet. I skip forward again. Chrissy puked on the rug and we had to call her an Uber... man, I do not miss college parties at all. I am sitting on Travis's lap on the train back to his place, doing a really bad job at pretending I don't like when he tries to make out with me in front of strangers. HERE we go. I was starting to get a little nervous she wasn't gonna close the deal.

I hang around in Zoe's head and watch her entire encounter with her tall, heavily-pierced friend from start to finish. They make out some more in Travis's room, their clothes start coming off, they do a bunch of hand stuff, she goes down on him for a little while, then they fuck. It is, in other words, an entirely normal sexual encounter that does not tell me anything about Zoe's turn-ons.

It was kind of stupid of me to think this would work, really. Most people don't bring all of their fetishes into play every time they have sex. Most of the time they just have sex. I don't even enjoy watching it very much because seeing it from her perspective instead of his is as jarring and weird to me as it has been all the other times I've tried it. He does do her from behind, and she seems to like it, so that's one thing I learn. He doesn't spank her while he's doing it, though, which is disappointing.

But is that disappointing to me, because I want to see Zoe's reaction to it, or am I feeling Zoe's disappointment? I concentrate harder. I'm still not sure. I try addressing her directly. "Zoe, do you want to get spanked right now?" I ask, aloud in my frozen present-day world. Suddenly, in her memory of Travis's room, Zoe speaks. "Spank me, Travis!" He does. Turns out she likes it a lot.

I pull out of Recall entirely. What just happened? Did Zoe just coincidentally happen to ask for a spanking at the exact second I asked her whether she wanted one, or did I change her memory?

I dive back into Zoe's memory right where I left off. He's still spanking her. So if I did change something, the change doesn't leave her head when I do. I skip backward a couple minutes to when he first put her on all fours and immediately speak. "Hey Zoe you know what'd be super hot? If he spanked you right now." And there she is, right on cue: "Spank me, Travis!" And he does. In this case she appears to like it more than he does, though; he's impatient to get to the part where he sticks his dick in her. Once he does start fucking her, she reminds him to keep spanking without needing my help, and this time he keeps at it the entire time.