A roaring engine precedes the arrival of Diego. Pulling up to where Tumbler is standing is a black and red Lamborghini Aventador! The passenger door raises up, and reveals Diego sitting there, grinning ear to ear as he revs the engine. ”Ready to roll, señorita?”
"Pop the trunk," Tumbler tells him as she walks over to the standing public trash can. After he does, Diego sees that she's loaded in several black bags, plastic wrapped and all in irregular shapes. She closes the boot and gets into the passenger seat next to him with one more bag, this a knapsack with a foldable shovel attached to it.
"You really had to pick the car that stands out the most?" She asks him. "Whatever. Give me your phone," She says, opening up the maps app and getting directions for a spot that was technically still in Hidden Valley but on the outskirts in the hills. "Okay, let's get going."
Diego’s glee sours just slightly at Tumbler’s attitude. ”Well ain’t you just Miss Sally Sunshine?” he retorts. ”What’d I do to piss you off now?” he asks as he revs up the engine and pulls out.
Wesley selects one of the t-shirts and some plain shorts, then steps behind the makeshift partition.
>sigh< This might be a two-person job. I got the earrings off easily enough, but I can't figure out the necklaces. You know what? F#!! 'em. She gives them a sharp yank and they pop free.
Next was the challenge of the clothing itself. The fabric wrapped around her in several directions, holding everything in place and cinched by some rings and a golden belt. She struggled for a moment trying to force the belt to go down around her hips, but their new configuration prevented that. She felt around for a clasp, but it was bound by the fabric.
After about ten minutes, Wesley backs out into view, struggling with the knots and folds of the gauzy fabric cris-crossing her body. She keeps her back to Wendy as she holds her hair out of the way. "What's it look like back there? I can't seem to find my way out of this."
“Oh, even Daphne’s dresses aren’t this complicated, but I’m up for the challenge. I’m gonna have RoboBarbie look on in case you need help putting this back on later.”
Wendy is happy to help, as long as it isn’t weird for Wes.
"What? I'm not angry at you, Diego. I just have a lot on my mind right now. Thank you for picking me up." She nods at him before looking out the window at the view speeding by them both.
She's quiet as they drive, and leave Bay City proper behind them for the dry hills of the Hidden Valley, or Oculta as it was officially known. It was much more suburban than the city, with ranch style houses and boulevards of strip malls and shopping centers. But the directions that Diego was given goes further into the hills, and eventually off of the paved roads into the scrubland. It finally ends at a trailer home, looking like it was covered in about half an inch of dirt and grime.
Once they get there, she hops back out and opens the trunk again to take out the black bags, one at a time, hauling them to one side. "Stay in the car," She says, as she approaches the trailer. A man comes out to greet her in a dirty tank top and shorts, his bald head scrawled with a tattoo like black fire across his brown skin.
"May pera ka?" The man asks. "Oo, nakuha ko ito," Tumbler responds, before handing over the knapsack to the man. He glances inside before nodding. "Gagawin ito. Salamat," He replies to her as Tumbler turns to leave, getting back into the car with Diego.
"Okay, that's taken care of. You want to go get something to eat? I know a nice taqueria in town that really knows how to season their steak," She suggests to Diego. The Delinquent notices how the man is loading up the bags into a wheelbarrow, before carting it all towards the back of the trailer. "Come on, I'm buying."
Diego shrugs and replies ”Sure.”
As they drive, he eventually speaks up and asks ”So…you wanna trade stories? You tell me what that was about, I’ll tell ya where I got this sweet baby.”
Wesley becomes focused on the puzzle of the fabrics, rings, and belt, unwinding and unthreading the surprising lengths of gauze encasing her. It's not until one smooth breast pops free that the reality of the situation catches up to her.
Cheeks reddening, she steps back behind the partition. "Okay, thank you, got it now!" she squeaks in a cringe-inducing (for Wes, anyway) voice. She struggles out of the rest on her own.
Heart thudding, Wesley pulls the t-shirt over her head and tugs down at the hem. And immediately regrets it. Dammit. I need a bra.
She quickly yanks the shorts up her legs and steps back out into view, arms folded across her chest. "I think I forgot about something. But it's fine, I'm not going out, right? This is just to sleep in?"
I am so glad Diego isn't here.
Wendy smirks a little, realizing what went wrong.
She speaks into her Cap Comm. “Daphne, I need a couple of your bras. And the matching panties—any not opened yet?—not for a date—no, this one’s off-limits.”
After ending the call.
She says to Wes, “My cousin’s a pain in my ass, but you’re built like her. The underwear will be in an unopened package, so the only one who needs to feel weird is me. I didn’t give her any shit for dating a member of my team and now I’m calling in an underwear favor.
“Or any favor from her. F@~@…” She makes an effort to cool down. “Sorry about the ‘f+&$’, Wes. You’re worth it.”
"Just some business I had to settle. Don't worry about," Tumbler assures him. "The less we know about each other's activities, the less there is to tell anyone."
At the taqueria, she gets the hot steak soft tacos for herself and has them loaded with veggies and sour cream. She seems to be content to sit there with Diego as she eats up. He'll notice that it's a little difficult for her to eat with the one hand, annoyed when she spills stuff onto her plate.
"So, you called me to hang out. Anything you wanted to talk about in particular?" She asks Diego while putting the taco down, deciding to work at it with a fork instead. "If it's about Armorer, tell me what you want from him and I'll see what I can get. Oh, do you have a burner I can call for that?"
Megan looks a little confused, and more than a little annoyed. "Really had to call in a favor for some underwear? Might be news to the Hattists, but that's something you can just buy, at, like, a store. 'S not like you've got a build where you have to go custom-made, Wes; 'S more like you're just making this hard so you can be a big damn hero, Derbs."
Ziss is brought out of her bubble as Megan speaks and she can't help but agree with her. She keeps her eyes away from Wesley, not because she doesn't want to look, but instead because she is sure he doesn't want to be looked at.
She sighs, not wanting to stay and see Wendy looking at Wesley. "Megan, could you take me to one of those shops dat we buy swimsuits?"
Wendy shrugs off Meg’s guess at her motive.
”Top of the line, already paid for and neatly packaged. Daphne can fly to the bistro in five minutes. The fembots will take care of the hand-off.
“Not sure what part of that’s less convenient than a store.” Thinking a bit, she adds, “Did I fail to mention I’m asking for something Daphne hasn’t yet worn, or even opened for that matter?”
Feeling less exotic and on display once switched out of the harem garb and into a regular t-shirt, Wesley still fidgets with the garment sized and cut for a female. Men's shirts just hang off the shoulders -- or at least the ones he'd been used to. This shirt hugged her tight and stopped short of her navel.
Wesley gulps and stops her fidgeting when Wendy places the order for the bras and underwear. She frowns slightly as she realizes just who Derby was talking to. The slight pangs of desire and jealousy Wesley had felt when Tumbler scored the date with Daphne resurface in new and disturbing ways. Off-limits, she calls me. Funny, I might actually have a chance, now. If worse comes to worse.
Still wrapped up in her own mind, Wesley starts twisting her torso again to get accustomed to the clingy t-shirt. "I don't think I'm ready to learn how to put on a bra considering I've never taken one off before. I am all kinds of messed up. Let's save that for tomorrow, okay?"
Diego shrugs. ”Just been a while, girl. I know we weren’t like, close and shit, but we traveled similar circles. So I figured we should stick close, watch each other’s backs and all that, ya know?” he says as he works on his meal. He waves her other question off with his fork and smiles. ”Already got in touch with Armorer. All good. Thanks for the connect!”
He looks at her missing hand. ”Look, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, or make you think I feel sorry for ya or what not. But,” he points his fork at Tumblers stump, ”but what’s your plan for that? Anything I can do to help? Friend to friend. Like, seriously.”
The fembot reaches into her apron and removes a Barbie doll. She hands it to Wendy, then heads up the secret elevator, presumably to retrieve the underwear.
Wendy smiles at the doll in her hands. ”Huh? Oh…” She turns her gaze from the doll to Wes. ”Yes, of course—the bra lesson can wait until morning.” She whispers to the doll, “‘Til morning.”
Placing the doll on her lap, she looks Wes in the eyes. “So much to talk about… I told you, back in the lamp, I’m always thinking a hundred moves ahead.
“I… I don’t mean to overwhelm you… or anything.”
The painkillers would turn it off.
Weak.
Wendy holds up the blanket. She’ll gladly place it over Arcana. What she does next depends whether or not Meg takes Ziss shopping…
Confusion reigns on Wesley's face. She doesn't exactly recoil from the Barbie doll, but doesn't make a move toward picking it up either. "I don't-- um, what are you... Huh?!?"
Wendy isn’t sure why Wes is startled.
“Oh!” She holds up the doll. “This is—no—I’m not about to be like, wanna play Barbies?”
“Not that there is anything wrong with that,” says the doll.
“Not now, Artoo. Yeah, the fembots are equipped with mini-mes. Artoo will alert me when R.B. gets the… y’know… from my cousin.”
Tumbler looked at him. "Well, if you didn't contact them through me, that's all good. Means I'm not racking up further obligations at any rate." She takes another bite of her meal. "I don't see a reason to watch each other's back in this group. Unlike the Black Sheep you don't have to worry about someone stabbing you in the back," She says. "...they were before your time. Anyways, everyone else is too much of a goody-two shoes to think about that unless we act out far beyond their comfort level."
She leans back in the booth seat, looking down at her covered arm. "Well, let's see. I can't get most types of prosthetics because my powers would interfere with their function. Even if I could, the nerve damage the poison caused would mean losing the whole limb from the shoulder," She tells him, drawing a line through her shoulder with her finger. "And the surgery costs alone would be millions of dollars, money which I no longer have to spend. But the only ones qualified for such an expensive procedure live in London, Halcyon and Tokyo, and part of my reform agreement means I'm not even allowed to cross state lines without approval or else I go back to being a full on fugitive of the law."
She continues, cold and calm as she explains just how awful her situation is. "But that's just the 'normal' options for a replacement. Actually restoring the whole limb? I was poisoned by an ancient spider monster who cursed me in the same breath, and it rotted away my hands and fingers and nearly killed me if that tourniquet hadn't been placed in time to prevent the spread. Clone arm? Same problems as an artificial prosthetic. Gene therapy? No thank you, I don't need to become more of a freak by injecting myself with starfish DNA. Now, magic's a solution, but as you can see from Wes, there is always a cost involved in its use and I won't ask him to doom himself for my benefit. Any other option would a temporary pick-me-up before I'm back where I started."
She looks at Diego. "So you're asking what my plan is? Right now, it's to hope that my sticking with this team and the weird crap that we seem to be encountering on a near daily basis, a new option is going to be presented to me. When that opportunity comes, I'm going to take it. So if you want to help, you'll keep everyone out of my way when the time comes."
Wendy isn’t sure why Wes is startled.
“Oh!” She holds up the doll. “This is—no—I’m not about to be like, wanna play Barbies?”
“Not that there is anything wrong with that,” says the doll.
“Not now, Artoo. Yeah, the fembots are equipped with mini-mes. Artoo will alert me when R.B. gets the… y’know… from my cousin.”
"The bras," Wesley fills in the "y'know" gap. "You can say it. Bras. Panties. Lingerie. Breasts. Boobs. Vagina.
"I've known this was coming for a while. I've been dreading it. But I've been trying to prepare for it, too."
She takes up the blanket and curls up in one of the three-person couches. A pillow lifts into the air and works its way behind Wesley's head so it's still propped up to face Wendy. "So, what are your 'hundred moves ahead' thoughts? Or... maybe not that many. Give me your... let's say first twenty."
Wendy sits on the floor near the sofa. “Well, the hundred moves aren’t necessarily linear… or a hundred. I predict outcomes and cause-effect relationships that lead to different outcomes.
“So, okay, the doll—Artoo Beetoo—could get me sued so name-change, insignificant to branching possibilities… but yes, she matters.”
“If I matter, why change my name on a whim?”
”I told you of my eighth grade project that caught Auntie Maude’s interest. It’s R2B2—and if you see my AI skills, maybe you’ll believe me that my supercomputer can hack into Bay City’s Big-Brother cams—and then maybe you’ll understand that there’s hope—you said vagina, but you just changed and are likely just starting your cycle—you won’t need feminine products until the fourth week, most likely—but we fix this sooner, pro–ssibly—I can help with Ashley Mills, but I can’t lie and say you’re on an away mission—I wanted to say that tomorrow…”
She pauses for breath, fina—a short breath—
“People get the secret identity, Wesley. It’s obsolete because of DNA tracing and facial recognition software, and the Capped Crusader got a lot of yeah-we-know faces with the Bruce Hatrix reveal in 1984… but we can’t keep throwing doppelgängers in the selfie, and you can hold out a couple days, but please trust me—because I don’t care how nerdy or pushy I come off… I do care that I made you mad, or I couldn’t switch off problem-solving mode to enjoy the wonder of being in your lamp.
“But I don’t ever want to violate trust—once broken, trust can never truly be pieced back together. So… Ashley Mills. It’s possible she’ll call you, and I can start on the call with you or stay out of the way 100%… but it’s important you keep the trust. She’s lovely, and you’re really a great guy. And you deserve to be happy.”
Wesley squirms under the blanket. The verbal torrent was way more confusing and stream-of-consciousness for her to be able to take away much. Every time Wendy touched upon a topic she wanted to explore further, she was off on something else.
Wesley finally pulls the blanket up over her face. "I'm sorry I asked!" her muffled voice whines. She peeks out timidly when Derby finishes.
"I hate to ask you this, but how was that supposed to help? Or did you think that burying the fact that women go through menstrual cycles in a load of other gibberish was going to ease the blow? And Ashley! I don't think of her -- I mean -- it's not going to be serious! And-- And now you've got me doing it!!"
Wesley sits up straighter to face Wendy. "Let's start with the biggest fact you might not be getting: I'm becoming a magical creature. I don't know if the same rules, like DNA, fingerprints, and even basic biology work the same way with me any more. So... I'm sure it's every woman's dream for a man to get to experience a period at least once, but I'm not sure if it's going to be me, even if I never turn back into Wesley. Do you really think Doctor Braithwaite's dream servant is going to get PMS?"
She takes a breath. "Now. Ashley. She's nice. She's cute. She's someone I'd love to date if I could push past my social anxiety. But she's into Arcanum. I can't... It's not honest. I keep thinking, that maybe if I had no-strings-attached powers like Diego's or hell, even Tumbler's! Then I could just hang out with her and see where things go. But things won't go well with me and her. Ashley's a dead-end.
"Besides. Ashley has your number. Not mine. She can't call me."
Wendy replies, “I… uhh… no, sorry… I wasn’t finished. I mean, I don’t want to tell you the whole train, or all of them, out loud.
“…like the train where you didn’t give her your number, and weren’t serious.”
Wendy takes her glasses off. Her eyes are moist and heavy.
“Wes, I got a lot going on in my head. It needs to stay in my head until it stops spinning.”
As she is speaking, the RoboBarbie has already delivered the lingerie and somehow knew to bring Wendy her tools.
Wendy seems surprised by this, but thanks the fembot and opens the box. “I was gonna wait for you to sleep, first. But I can work here on the floor.”
Wendy then takes her doll, strips it and opens the plastic torso. The little Barbie doll is like a watch on the inside with very tiny gears in constant motion. Wendy makes adjustments, handling the delicate task with much care…
As Wendy tweaks the Barbie doll’s interior, ‘her’ head turns to gaze at a little superheroine outfit laid out on the floor. It includes a red mask, cape and beret. Though only a toy with AI programmed into its head-chip, the little face appears to be smiling.
“You need sleep, too, Wendy,” the doll says. She seems content as Wendy continues to work on her.
It is embarrassing to be naked with the inside of my torso showing.
Wesley rubs her face, trying to keep the frustration at bay. Talking dolls and disjointed advice wasn't helping her get a handle on her current situation. "I know what it's like to have too many thoughts. I'd hoped... I thought you might be able to cut through everything.
"It's okay. It's a lot, I know." Why am [i]I doing the comforting![/i]
She tries to find resolve in her situation. "I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow, I'll try on the bra and panties. And whatever else you think I should wear. Then... if I'm not back to Arcanum by the end of the day... I tell my parents. Well, maybe. Ashley can wait."
Ziss is brought out of her bubble as Megan speaks and she can't help but agree with her. She keeps her eyes away from Wesley, not because she doesn't want to look, but instead because she is sure he doesn't want to be looked at.
She sighs, not wanting to stay and see Wendy looking at Wesley. "Megan, could you take me to one of those shops dat we buy swimsuits?"
"What? Uh, sure thing Lil Ziss. 'S there something you need?"
The next morning, Wendy is seen lying face-down on the floor over a blanket. Her own not-sexy bra is carelessly left in a twisted S-shape. Wendy’s shirt is rolled up past her shoulder blades, her skirt is down just slightly below the waist (not exposing anything). Without long sleeves or tights on, Wes can see all four limbs are scraped and scratched. She hasn’t had 48 hours to heal yet, she lacks powers, yet she looks fine for someone who stayed at the hospital overnight just one night ago.
Tiny hands massage the back of Wendy’s calf…
Artoo Bee The Barbed Beret works her massage magic up Wendy’s leg, going no further than the hem of the skirt. Once the legs are taken care of, she walks along Wendy’s spine.
Last night’s tweaks were a success. I can remove Wendy’s stress.
When Wes awakens to see a Barbie dressed as a superhero (sportsbra, miniskirt, boots, cape, mask, beret), BB will stop what she’s doing to say,
“Good morning, Wesley. Did you sleep well?”
”What about your powers? Can you, like, make an articulated hand out of metal and wear it like a prosthetic? Then move it around with your powers when you need to?” he asks sincerely.
Ever since the lamp, sleep has been a strange experience for Wesley. Instead of a vital biological process in which mind and body are refreshed and restored, sleep for him now feels more like shutting down for a prescribed amount of time.
She didn't toss. She didn't turn. She wakes in the exact same state as when she went to sleep. "Fine," she tells the fembot.
Wesley rises quietly, pausing to look at Wendy's sleeping form get massaged a bit more, and then she floats across the room just a few inches off the floor toward the bathroom. She studies her reflection in the mirror. Her sleep didn't disturb her makeup or hair, which still flowed from her head in rich silky waves. I could do a shampoo commercial, she thinks as she fluffs it and runs her fingers through the soft strands. Her face, her body -- words don't do it justice.
She lifts her shirt up -- and up -- and then up and over her head. Her breasts were absolute perfection and Wesley stares, still trying to wrap his male mind around seeing them exposed in her reflection and catching them in her peripheral vision on her chest. The girl in the reflection traces a delicate finger around each one, and then cups them both gently in both hands, lifting them up and watching gravity tug them back down.
That's enough for now, she chides herself, and goes out into the common room, t-shirt in hand, to wrap her breasts in silk and lace.
When Wes returns, Wendy moans groggily, “I really nailed it on the massage robot. Heh… I didn’t tell you guys I was programming my doll to do this.
“Wes, would you mind if I let her work your back? I can’t be sure I nailed the program… I’m kinda biased wanting to succeed… and I was busy with a bigger job.” She stops herself from even mentioning what the job is. “Can I please tell you after coffee?”
The human-sized RoboBarbie takes the hint and goes upstairs to retrieve breakfast for Wendy and guest(s),
"You could tell me during coffee," Wesley says as she tosses the shirt onto the couch, wondering why Wendy was getting so cryptic lately. She smoothly sits down, crossing her legs, and gets ready for a massage. After a moment she remembers her new long hair and she gathers it up and pulls it around her shoulder to let the robot work.
The doll works her little hands across Wes’ back.
The PSI setting is ideal for a massage despite the hands being one-sixth the scale of a woman’s. The AI has an apparent grasp of what makes a massage relieve stress, and oddly, the doll responds well to any sign of feelings—adapting to meet Wes’ physical and emotional needs, or at least to the extent a Barbie masseuse can.
Wendy sits beside Wes, where Wes can see Wendy and know she’s not looking. She’s not looking because she wants to, and that is obviously so terribly wrong.
She looks nervous. Eager. She waits a long time before raising a thumb (within Wes’ reach but not in Wes’ personal bubble).
Her thumb points up, down, sideways.
”Verdict?”
As they ride the elevator up, Ziss nods, decided. "Yes. My one piece is too much 'little girl'... I'm tired of people looking at me and instantly finking I'm a child, a baby girl, a little sister." She says, looking up towards Megan. "Is it somefing we can do? Can you help me look like a normal girl like you, or Tumbler, or She-Wesley... a girl people would have interest into?"
Wesley appears outside her lamp, curious and alarmed about what could be going on outside.
Wesley finds herself in the middle of the sky, but something appears to be very wrong, since the land in on her right, and her down, up, and left have nothing beneath but more blue endless sky, and she is falling towards it! A hand grabs her ankle and she can see her lamp fastened on Ziss's belt as she is seated on her hoverboard as if the scene wasn't ridiculous. "Oh, we are making a trip to the mountains... time for you to get some fresh air away from the city and that musty base!"
A surprised and feminine eeep! escapes Wesley's lips as she nearly tumbles in the wrong direction. Once she gets over the crazy disorientation of the distorted gravity, she takes over flying on her own, matching Ziss's speed, even if this causes her gravity to shift back to normal. "You didn't think to ask first?" she calls out.
"Would you say 'yes'?" She asks, doubting it.
"Why am I not surprised you follow the adage that it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission? You've been hanging out with Tumbler too long. Or Diego." She thinks for beat and amends herself. "Not Diego."
Ziss shrugs. "Never heard of dis before, but it is a very good one, even if de monks would strongly disapprove." She shrugs. "Not spending time wif Tumbler, even if we have some fings in common... and not Diego... Wendy says he is a good person, and I do believe her, but... I can't." She seems to shudder for a moment, but then the sun makes her expression happy again.
"Isn't nature beautiful?" She says, pointing at the many trees and hills that quickly pass by. "You do not spend much time outside, do you?"
Wes looks where Ziss points, and gets her point. "Less and less, these days."
She remains silent for a couple minutes, just watching everything. "I've been to anoder four different worlds and yet I had never seen a beach... isn't it wonderful to fink about? How much we do not know? We fink of ourselves as so much important, but we are nofing in de whole fing... less dan a grain of sand."
She raises her finger, making a "wise one" impression. "I am de wisest man alive, for I know one fing, and dat is dat I know nofing."
Wesley debates about ditching this impromptu and unasked-for vacation, turning around and flying back to Bay City. But Ziss had the lamp, and she didn't like the idea of it being with only one of her teammates. She still couldn't help but think of Ziss as being immature. "That's the beginning of wisdom, according to Socrates," she acknowledges.
Ziss suddenly shifts around and starts falling towards the land, just to then shift again, back to down, and falling towards the land. Once she is about to land, she powers her gloves and shots them down, slowing her speed until she gracefully lands. She removes a towel from her backpack for them to sit, as well as some fruits, a couple chocolates, a small pie, and a bottle of yellow juice.
She serves two cups and offers one to Wesley, though before he takes she thinks it better to explain something. "I was told dis juice is from a fruit called passion fruit... I'm not trying to imply anyfing." She then smiles, breathing the pure air of the mountains.
Wesley floats gently to the ground, barely touching the earth with her soft slippers. Before she sits down, she looks at the rings and bracelets adorning her arms and starts pulling them off. "Every time!" she huffs. Once they're off, she starts pulling out the nose and earrings. Discarding the jewelry off to the side, she joins Ziss on the towel.
"Understood," Wesley says as she accepts the cup of juice. She sips it and stares at the mountainous vista.
She watches her fumbling with her jewellery, sympathising since she also does like big ones. Ziss's earrings are very small. "I'm sorry for all of dis... dis of your master wanting you to be a girl. It must be terrible." She thinks about asking if the master would have darker desires, but decides against it, not wanting to scare Wesley.
Wesley sets the cup down and pitches her head back and closes her eyes. She moves her head from side to side, feeling her long hair swish gently on her bare shoulders. "I don't want to call it terrible. That's like saying that being a girl is terrible. It's just... the lack of control that's hard."
"I did not mean de part of being a girl... I like being a girl... I mean de part of dis Curator perhaps owning you, and your body... dis idea is horrifying... to me."
Wesley opens her eyes and looks at Ziss. "I'm not much of a fan of it either."
Ziss remains silent for a couple more minutes, eating a peach, but her eyes looks distant. "Somefing very bad happened to me, but Wendy is helping me get trough it. She said I'm innocent, and... she is right. You are also innocent." She keeps looking at the landscape, as if this helped her to center herself.
"My moder had de same powers as me, even if she did it better... she was older, of course. She used to flee from fings when it got dangerous, or troublesome, or complicated. She was a tourist. She'd visit a world, enjoy it, and den leave vithout finking twice, perhaps never to return." She says this, as if it was relevant somehow. "I'm not like her... I could not flee when I needed de most."
After a couple more minutes, she opens her arms to gesture all the nature and the peace around them. "Dis is de only way I know to flee from what is inside my head, from my memories, from my nightmares... to fink of nofing for a couple hours, and just live. I wanted to show dis to you, perhaps it will help you as well."
Wesley stays quiet, appreciating the gesture and the advice. Part of her tried speculating on whatever trauma Ziss endured, but she quickly decides that it's best not to wonder. Ziss would either share, or she wouldn't. It's not like Wes could help -- that's a lie. She could help, but likely not without wishcraft.
As the silence stretches, Wesley focuses more on the natural beauty of the mountains. It was why Ziss half carried her here in the first place. Putting her attention on something besides her fate and new body. It of course reminds her of Ashley's mindfulness lecture, and her stomach twists in anxiety over her learning that 'Arcanum' was now 'Arcana.'
She shakes her head. "Thanks. Problem is, I can't really get out of my headspace. Everything reminds me of what's coming."
"At first I tought it impossible too, but I had no choice... it was living wif it, or crumbling into nofing." She says as she reaches for a candy bar. "Yes, it is very difficult, but I fink it is easier wif someone else's help. I could try to help you, if you want to."
"You're already helping," Wesley says immediately. "You're willing to help stop the Curator from getting me. That's what I'd rather focus on anyway. If it's even possible."
Ziss nods. "If it is possible, we'll do it. I don't know too much about magic, and my single power is probably useless, but I'll do whatever I can."
She pauses for a couple more minutes before adding. "And tank you. I'm not ready to tell you why and how, but you helped me wif somefing."
Wesley meets Ziss's eyes, wondering what she could have possibly have done to help her out. They'd not interacted a great deal before the wish incident, so it was probably something since he'd become a she. Unless it was during one of their battles?
Deciding again not to speculate too much she smiles. "Well, you're welcome. Whatever it is I did."
"Right, dat out of de way, how about we enjoy dis wonderful day?" She offers, as she packs everything.
The rest of the afternoon is spent doing several sports and wilderness activities, like trekking, skydiving, swimming and even "mountain-hovering". To her amusement, Wes joins her, turning into animals that she had never seen before, like and eagle, a wolf and a deer to keep with her pace! Ziss takes many (terrible, blurred, with fingers in front of it) selfies with Wes and a photo of the sunset from the mountains before falling/flying back to the civilization.
”What about your powers? Can you, like, make an articulated hand out of metal and wear it like a prosthetic? Then move it around with your powers when you need to?” he asks sincerely.
"It's probably the most cost effective," She admits to Diego's idea, "But there are limits to my powers. It would have to be made of a ferrous material which would make it vulnerable to other magnetic forces, and the fine control needed for it would take a heavy amount of concentration. Using it as naturally as I would use this," She wiggles the fingers on her hand, "Would probably need over a year of constant practice until I no longer needed to think about it anymore. It took me about the same time to disassemble and reassemble a personal safe perfectly," Tumbler says as she finishes her food.
"But thank you for trying to look for a solution. If you come across anything useful, you'll let me know?" She asks him.
"Okay Lil Ziss, you got it. We can get you a two-piece if you want; one-pieces can look plenty grown up though. Like with mine, pop a section or two out the side and no one's thinking it's a kid's suit, but also... I mean, you kinda are a kid, right? 'S not a bad thing, and everyone takes you serious anyways... Ohhhhh. You're trying to catch someone's eye? Like someone on the team? Who is it?"
"Whoa.
When the massage begins, Wesley stifles a moan of pleasure because it sounded too feminine (well, too sensual to be honest). But as the fembot continues its ministrations, more sighs and moans involuntarily escape her throat.
She closes her eyes and dreamily rolls her head in time with the tiny fingers working her shoulders.
"Mmmmmmm." Her soft, feminine coos didn't sound so wrong in her ears as the massage went on. "Oh, yeah..." she murmurs in answer to Wendy's question.
Wendy is compelled to look. She can’t not look. She really would like to not look but she even more does not want to take her eyes off of Wes’ expression of unadulterated euphoria.
“So… the Barbed Beret is an excellent masseuse. And bonus: your body is more sensitive to pleasure than mine, it would seem.”
Regretting that she blurted her thoughts like that, she says, “Sorry—please don’t be mad… I don’t want to make it weird. It was beautiful.
“I mean—not…well, not gonna lie. Yes, that—but everything! Being in the lamp, the flying…
“You!” She’s taking in the entirety of the magical creature. “You’re so nice… and you look like…”
She slows down.
“…you can be happy like this?”
Wesley's eyes slowly open and only make it halfway as the dreamy euphoria begins to lift. She feels Wendy's eyes on her but she doesn't mind. Her words, however, cause the anxiety to start creeping back in. Being stuck like this. The inevitability of his fate, the fear of accepting it. The desire to fight and resist at all costs. Coming to terms with the reality that in the present, his situation is not all bad. But is that just the siren's call, luring him further along? Will finding a silver lining lead him closer to his doom?
The fog starts dissipates and her eyes flutter open wide. She meets Wendy's eyes as she tries to answer her truthfully. But it was complicated. "I don't know. I shouldn't want to. But I kind of do. Or at least... I want to try... except..." She looks down and cups her breasts. The foreign weight of them on her chest wars with the delight of holding their soft firmness in her hands.
Wesley reluctantly forces her hands off her breasts and plants them on her knees. "Except... There's too many what ifs. What if I'm stuck like this forever, but I escape the Curator? I'll have to learn how to accept it, won't I? What if I'm freed and turn back to Wesley? That's still the goal, right? What if I switch back and lose my powers? And what if I can switch back and forth whenever I want?"
Wendy is relieved that Wes isn’t mad at her. As for the curious cupping, she manages not to giggle. “I guess we should get to the bra lesson before coffee. Euphemism for work.”
Shoulda stopped at ‘euphemism.’
Wendy removes her shirt. Her body is toned to athletic perfection. Lean limbs (still scraped raw from the high-speed wipe-out), abs defined enough for a game of tic-tac-toe, and not seen previously at the beach: breasts comparable to those cymbals a toy monkey might crash together.
Wendy picks her bra up off the floor, turns her back and shows Wes the clasps. She removes it and puts it on again, this time calling attention to the positioning of her hands.
Wesley immediately averts her eyes when Wendy pulls her shirt off. Just because she happens to possess a pair of truly magnificent and bare breasts herself at the moment doesn't give him the right to ogle someone else's.
It requires some coaxing to get her to turn her head back so that Wendy's body is in her field of view. Then she begins the challenge of watching a bra lesson without actually seeing the person demonstrating the procedure. Wesley of course fails in that endeavor and gets a good look at Wendy's toned body.
"Wow, you're, um, fit. Though... ouch. I think it's less that I'm more sensitive and more the fact that you're missing skin in several places. That massage couldn't have felt good for you."
She stands up with one of the new bras in hand after watching the demonstration a few times (and being glad it involved watching her back and not front -- she ogled the front too much already, she feared.) "Okay. This one says, 'plum'. I guess it's pretty." She pulls the tags off the deep purple bra with little pink lace flowers along the edges, then turns it around so the cups are facing out. She follows the steps Wendy showed her and gets to the tough part -- fastening it in the back. She struggles with the clasps briefly before she gets then connected, then adjusts the cups so they're cradling her breasts in another new and strange sensation. "Gotta be honest, I'm now embarrassed that I got it on so fast."
Wendy is enjoying every part of the moment, with Wes’ social anxiety so refreshingly familiar. She debates about joking about her small breasts, thanking Wes for calling her fit, or congratulating the quick learning.
She does none. RoboBarbie is back with coffee and some breakfast foods.
• • •
Wendy invites Wes to a two-seater sofa. RoboBarbie moves a table with food and coffee placed on it. The Barbed Beret takes Wendy’s chair, or rather, one of the armrests.
Wendy drinks her coffee black and still steaming hot. After gulping down half a cup, she dreads the part that comes next.
“Before I activate the holotheater, I want you to know I truly am grateful you brought me into the lamp. And… I’m sorry I didn’t give you think time and just right-away dialed Ashley.
“I hope what I set up last night makes amends. I got the AI looking for patterns. Might be a way to catch the Curator at a vulnerable moment.”
The doll stands up on her armrest. She looks at Wendy expectantly.
Wendy impales a tater tot on her fork. “I know you can’t hurt him… so I’ll run the program only if you permit. And if an opportunity arises, your choice to take it or wait another day.”
Wesley joins Wendy on the couch for coffee, not putting on a shirt unless the Legacy does first. She also doesn't make a move to try on the matching plum panties -- she caught a glimpse of them when getting the bra and they looked like they'd thread up into her butt crack. She didn't think she was ready for that. The shorts were fine.
She takes her coffee black and sips it while Wendy explains her project. A river of fear runs up her spine. She slowly sets the coffee on the tray, shaking her head.
"Why show this to me? Wouldn't it be safest if I didn't know, so in case-- in case the worst happens, I can't tell him about it?" Wesley feels another jolt of fear. "Wait. What kind of 'opportunity' are you talking about?"
“To attack,” Wendy replies quite calmly (for a girl who so did not mean to initiate Breakfast in Bras). “You’re on my team, Wesley.”
Her mouth goes dry. "Wendy, as much as he's committed a massive violation of my being, I don't think he's committed a crime. At least, nothing we can pin on him. Attacking him out of the blue... Do you really want to go down this road?"
Wendy bites her tater tot, does not enjoy it, chews slowly…
…swallows.
“I want to run the program. The AI might reveal a reason to go after him.
“Though if you want my opinion, you’re reason enough.”
Wesley feels a lump rising in her throat. She tries to swallow it back down but it only gets bigger. No. She realizes what's happening when her lower lip starts to tremble and her chest seizes.
No. No, you're not doing this. You're not going to start crying within a day of becoming a girl! You're not-- Her mental admonitions fail to stop the dam from cracking. She feels tears welling in her eyes and she turns away from Wendy.
Don't do this in front of her. She's a superhero! You're supposed to be a superhero! Superheroes don't cry! You never once cried since this nightmare began! Don't! Do! This!
A choked sob escapes her lips. It was happening despite all her will to stop it. An anguished cry issues forth as the tears start streaming in earnest.
Wendy starts to reach toward Wes. Ohhhh, we should really have our shirts on for this! She moves closer and puts an arm around her.
“Shoulder. You get to cry on it.”
Wesley shakes her head and turns further away from Wendy as her body trembles with the effort of keeping it all in.
Oh, my shoulder’s this way, Wendy does NOT say. Don’t try to be funny.
“Wes, remember how you held me all the way to the hospital? Let me hold you… it really does help.”
A sudden, freakishly-strong desire to be held and comforted strikes Wesley, but his battered self-image fights it back. If you do, she'll never see you as anything but a girl. The warning floats across his mind like a thought from someone else. It breaks the tie.
Wesley straightens her back and resumes a modicum of control. She wipes her eyes as the tightness in her chest unclenches. Her breath is still tremulous, but more even.
She turns around and faces Wendy. She had Hollywood-cried, and somehow didn't ruin her makeup despite the tears still wet on her cheeks. "Sorry, sorry about that. That's on me."
Wendy stifles the urge to wipe Wes’ tear. “Careful not to bottle those up…”
She reaches for her cup to get more coffee. Sips it.
“So… my plan was to hold you and listen to what upset you. Can still do part of that, if you want.
“Option B is back-to-business… we can run that program and finish breakfast.
“Or we can just enjoy breakfast, maybe play some Wet Leg.”
The Barbed Beret clicks a button to display an image on the holotheater, anticipating Wes may not realize Wet Leg is a band.
Hands still trembling from the emotional scene, Wesley wipes her face again. "Just give me a minute." Feeling a little more composed, she weighs the options. She glances down and doesn't see any tear spots on her legs, then realizes Wendy was referring to a band once the image springs up on the display.
Breakfast did not interest her, and she still felt uncomfortable with Wendy's program to search for information on the Curator. That left being held and talking.
It still triggered a yearning in her, but having resisted it once, she didn't want to risk succumbing to another emotional breakdown. But it felt like that storm had passed. For now. Asserting control had felt masculine, and there was a sense of victory in that. Now, Wesley faced the choice of setting that aside deliberately and welcoming comfort.
She swallows hard as she summons the courage. Her large eyes ringed with dark lashes are open and vulnerable when she whispers, "Option A, if it's all right."
The Barbed Beret turns off the holoimage and hops down from the armrest. She taps the RoboBarbie on the shin. The larger fembot says to the smaller, “All right. All right. I am going. I am going.”
Wendy happily embraces Wes. “Your head goes on shoulder or lap. I’ll just listen.”
Wesley finds a spot for her head in the crook of Wendy's shoulder, sits back up, adjusts her hair, checks to make sure she's not putting pressure on an injury, and finds the spot again. She takes a moment to get used to the new position and savor it. The arms around her, the closeness to another person -- a girl. Wes had never been this close to another female who wasn't his mother, and she stopped around grade five. The bra straps digging into her shoulders and silky hair brushing her back reminded her of her own current status as a female, stirring certain thoughts in the background of her mind that she chooses to ignore.
"That came on really unexpectedly. It was like, I'd been feeling all alone in this nightmare and I'd been dealing with it by myself. And I thought I'd been doing all right. You just now made me realize... that I'm not alone." The emotional storm rolls in again as she feels the same swell as before.
But there it is -- I'm not alone. A sudden need to hold Wendy tight takes control and Wesley wraps her arms around her. Any sense of titillation is absent as she just needs to verify Wendy's existence as real and there.
Wendy holds onto Wes, saying nothing, affirming the jinn ’you she is not alone’ simply by being present.
• • •
The elevator door opens and inside it is Ziss, holding a box of doughnuts, another one in her hands, and sugar on her cheeks.
She takes a brief look at the whole scene. She smiles. "Oh, so sorry..."
She steps out of the elevator and puts the box on a couch before entering it again. "You are in good hands, Wesley." The door closes soon after.
Wesley was still a girl on the second day, and the day after that. The trip to the mountains with Ziss was nice, as well as the earlier training bra session with Derby. But her problem persisted.
She did figure out an alibi with her parents, however. Wesley flew home, conjured up a doppelganger of himself, and walked in together. The fake Wesley introduced her to her own parents. It was a suitably awkward meeting.
Wesley's parents were in separate rooms. His father was rebuilding another computer in his den while his mother was in the sitting room on her tablet as usual. She looked up, almost surprised that she would be seeing him. "I thought you were in your room? Didn't I see your car in the garage?"
"Oh, I was out with some other people. They just dropped me -- us -- off," fake Wesley said. Real Wesley just stood and puppeted her construct, trying not to fidget and resisting the urge to pull the underwear out of her butt. "This is Jinn."
"Hello," Amanda Andrews said to the person who really was her son. "Nice to meet you."
Wesley smiled back at her mother. "Nice to meet you, too. You have a lovely house."
Gene Andrews entered at the sound of voices. "Who's--? Oh, hi Wes. Who's this, again?"
"This is Jinn," her mother answers.
"Ah. You're quite conventionally attractive. Excellent bone structure. Symmetrical features."
Ears burning at her father's clinical appraisal of her looks, she just grinned and forced out a, "Thank you." Then she controlled her doppelganger again. "Hey, I have to take Jinn home, okay? Just getting a few things. I might stay out. Text me if you need anything."
She followed her male double into her room and shut the door with a sigh. She didn't really have anything in her room that she needed. But her room was a source of familiarity even though her body was still unfamiliar, so she laid on her bed for a while and decompressed. After about an hour, she grabbed her keys to her car, summoned up her double again, and left.
Issue #3! Under the Sea!
Far beneath the waves, many miles off the coast of Bay City, lies one of the submerged cities of the Sea People. It's not Atlantis, despite what most land-dwellers believe, but the Sea People usually don't care enough to try to correct them. It's real name is Kulanakauhale, or simply Kulana for short. And it is here that the Bay Watchmen have come on an invitation from the Sea King himself!
Whether by magic, specialized equipment, or just an innate ability to breathe water, the team of heroes has just arrived outside the coral gates of Kulana. A dome of coral stretches up over the city itself, and bioluminescent jellyfish float about, providing colorful illumination throughout the city. A pair of Sea People stand watch outside the gates. Each is a broad-chested, muscular man with dusky skin covered in intricate tattoos. A single horn protrudes from their foreheads, like that of a narwhal.
The Darling Derby is in her coppertone bikini again.
Gadgets include:
• Grouch O2 Glasses
• w/ Fish-eye Lense
• Falsie Floatie
• Falsie BB Repair Kit
• Bun-G-String
• Hat-pedo
• Cap Comm
• Ear Buddies
With no worries about drowning, DD keeps her eye on teammates as she swims to the Sea King’s dome!
"Are all the men in Kulana that...muscular?" Tumbler asks through the Ear Buddies. She's wearing a fully pressurized diving suit for the trip down here. It's a little awkward with the right hand being empty of fingers, but she's able to avoid most of the perils of going into a highly pressurized environment this way.
"So what do you think the Sea King wants from us?" She asks the group, though clearly looking at Crimson Tide. "Maybe he wants a favor from us?"
The Barbed Beret is wearing a Malibu Funtime bikini, and her red beret with barbs that keep it pinned into the Barbie doll hair.
Gadgets include:
• Ruby Flippers
• Ear Buddies
Unlike DD, the Barbed Beret can speak without bubbles coming out of her mouth. She replies to Tumbler,
“An interesting observation, Tumbler. It is likely that the king has chosen his strongest men as part of an impressive display. It seems to be working on you, and on myself as well. Narwhals are the unicorn of the sea. I find unicorns truly fascinating.
“And mermaids, too, Arcana.”
It's been several more days and still Wesley was making no headway in turning himself back into a boy. Her shapeshifting was still potent, though she always found herself shifting back to being the beautiful girl adorned with jewelry.
The invitation taking them away from Bay City and underneath the Pacific Ocean was a welcome diversion. She had taken to using her constructs to maintain the illusion that Arcanum was still around, though thankfully there wasn't much super crime that required either an unveiling of Arcana or to keep trying to puppet her doppelganger.
In Kulana, she didn't have to worry so much about the Arcanum/Arcana dilemma, so she put on a bikini and dove under the waves with the rest of the team, shifting her body into a mermaid configuration and giving herself gills.
She hated to admit it, but swimming as a beautiful mermaid was really enjoyable.
The Darling Derby can’t help but smile at Wes’ mermaid form. She tries to get in on the conversation.
”Blbblllllbblbbbggblllgbblggbbblbbllb.”
…but the converter plugged into her nostrils only helps her breathe oxygen without inhaling water. She still can’t talk underwater.
In a matching pressure suit, Dervish says over comms ”I don’t know, but I don’t like it. I mean, I can get out of here for sure, if shit hits the fan. Might can bring one of you along with me topside. But I won’t be able to make a return trip.”
The doll replies, “In an emergency, I can activate my Ruby Flippers, which can guide me to swim at high speed to the nearest shore, direct route toward home via water, or on a path to intercept the nearest detectable ship.”
Megan gives a shrug of her hands. "'S pretty helpful to be strong if you're swimming around this deep, and it helps to be big if you're not gonna get too cold. Hey I know those guys, "
Jaws spread wide in a grateful smile, she swims up, lowering her head to allow them to tap their horns against her forehead before tightly embracing them both.
"Megan! Mahalo, wahine!" the guards say, hugging her tightly. "The Sea King is waiting for you and your friends. Come on, follow us!"
The streets of Kulana can disorient surface dwellers. Though some streets stretch along the ocean floor, other lanes veer up at all angles, created by the passages between coral growths, rock formations, and buildings. Many of the dwellings here rise 10 or more stories tall, and some are built down from the dome above, clinging to the red lattice of coral. Carved representations of aquatic creatures, seashells, and tropical flowers adorn most of the residences, some inlaid with bits of shell or semiprecious gems that catch the light of the floating jellyfish.
Dozens of Sea People bustle about the city. They give you curious glances as you pass.
In the center of Kulana stands the palace, a long rectangular building fronted by a large plaza. Four enormous pillars of spiraling ivory mark the edges of the plaza. Sandstone tiles infused with specks of gleaming gold cover the ground. The throne room of the palace is opulent, decorated with abstract coral sculptures and other artwork.
The Sea King rises to greet you. He wears gleaming golden armor and carries an ornate spear, and his horn glows faintly as a grin splits his face. "Aloha! Welcome, Watchmen of the Bay! And Crimson Tide, my protege, it has been too long since we have spoken! Come, let us chat!"
He taps his spear on the ground, creating a large bubble of air in the water. Though aquatic people can still swim within it, there is breathable air so that land-dwellers can remove their breathing apparatuses and converse normally.