Reroll

Oh, the stares. Now that I'm thinking in terms of a secret society watching, I'm noticing people looking my way a LOT more… mostly young guys with their jaws hanging out, granted… ugh, those stares are creepy.  Mind, I'm pretty sure I've given a few back before I had the oven.

But at least I'm dressed now, so I don't have my junk visible. Poor Jim has nothing that'll cover his cushioned backside because of that ridiculously huge rainbow feathered bird tail sticking up over his large hips. I'm pretty sure he's the one getting the wolf whistles and cat calls right now and… wait… he's SMILING? And Sense Motive is telling me it's an honestly pleased smile? How… why… you know what? Nevermind, I'm not gonna ask.  His business.

Or maybe hers; that's still pending.

We're… mostly fine when we get to the library. I’m feeling a bit paranoid, Jim's starting to drip slightly from his lower lips, and Ed is spending a lot more time looking up than normal… although I think that has more to do with the lost foot of height than anything else.

I wave my own tail idly, and quietly ask Jim a question, “Are you capable of putting your tail down? I know I can control mine.”

I get a rather girly giggle back, “Well… yes,” he demonstrates, and that ginormous tail suddenly looks like the back of a very large skirt from a fancy ballgown, “but why would I?” She flips it back up, “this is loads more fun.”

Okay, Jim's a girl in my book now. I'll hold on actually talking that way until she says, but… yeah.  She is knowingly and deliberately attracting male attention, and obviously getting off on it, so very much the girl.

“Okay then,” I suggest, “Split up for research?”

Ed nods, “Works for me. I'll start with online news and find out what we have on suicide girl.”

Jim also nods, “Sounds good; I’ll see about student records, and look her up on social media once I have a name.”

“Great, I'll… ummm…” I consider, “start with the news stacks, see what I can find in DTF, and go from there.”

“DTF?” Ed inquires.

I chuckle, “Dead Tree Format.”

We part ways, Ed heading off to the computer, Jim to the records desk, myself to the news stacks.  

Yes, the library has paper new stacks.  They have The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, the local city paper, and the school paper, all going back about a hundred years (the school paper is just weekly, the others are daily).  Everything is available electronically now, but they're still getting and storing physical copies (there's a LOT of paper here).  The suicide was a front page headline on the school paper as I recall, so… I just look at the last couple and… there she is.  Mildred Hubble, age nineteen.  What does it have about her… mother Julie deceased a month prior, also ruled a suicide. Survived by a sister and her father… I write down their names, some notes about Mildred's life - most notably including her home town - and now that I have my starting point, time to visit the computer lab…

…I get a slap on my rear as I start to head that way. I spin around to punch the guy, and that does not go well: The six foot two linebacker catches my fist, uses it to force me to keep turning, and wraps his arms around me as I go, sliding one up under my shirt.  This lands me with my gigantic backside pressed into his crotch (and yes, he's at full mast), my dainty right hand still locked in his giant meat-fist, his other hand groping my knockers… which causes me to start leaking immediately, based on the sudden smell of milk. Eugh, this guy is disgusting; I can smell the beer on his breath already. At least magic clothes are trivial to clean.

And as much as I hate it, my body's responding favorably to the sensation.

The neanderthal's hand on my chest feels a LOT like stroking the man meat I used to have and each time he hits a nipple it feels a lot like when I got off as a guy: This body is way too tuned for pleasure.  And of course, he really likes that nipple.  My face is red, I'm breathing hard, and I feel some liquid running down my leg by the time I manage to whisper, “no.”

He gives the classic abuser's answer, “Your mouth says no, but your body says yes… nobody ever comes back here, babe, relax, we can have our fun in private.”

I'm held, so can't do somatic components to cast a useful spell, and I can't concentrate well right now… but I always knew I'd have to do something quietly at some point, so I did take Fiery Burst.  It's a reserve feat; it makes a small, weak fireball (compared to the spell of the same name, anyway) at short range, provided I keep a fire spell uncast. It's pretty lackluster… but it's Supernatural, which means I don't have to move, speak, or even think hard.

The only downside is that it affects an area… but I'd rather get burned literally than by having this creep's kid from a stupid rape.

I focus briefly, and there's a flash of red light and a very painful burning sensation… and he lets go. I hear the fire alarms… and the sound of a meaty thud?  My skin cracks as I turn around… and see the idiot pumping blood from the burned remains of his skin just before the fire suppression dumps a lot of foul-smelling water all over us and the stacks of newspapers… well, I guess it's electronic copies only for this year.

Great. I might have killed him… but you know what? That's probably okay. I can't have been his first… but I really don't want to be here to answer questions like “who are you” from the police, so I skedaddle… taking a moment to replace my magic clothes and channel some positive energy to heal myself, getting rid of the burn marks on both… and join the surprisingly calm line of people leaving the library.

Perception tells me why nobody's worried, in the form of an exasperated comment from one of the librarians, “Ugh, some idiot smoking pot in the bathroom AGAIN? That's the third time this week.  Well… have to follow the forms….”

When I get out, I find a shady spot under a nearby tree, get my phone out, and text Jim and Ed, “Found the article before the alarm, saved details, come meet me”  and include a quick picture of where I'm waiting. No, I'm not saying I triggered the alarm over a text. It's an MMS, not an RCS right now, and those can be intercepted relatively easily… and RCS is only immune if you trust the experts that say it's done right.

And I'm still breathing hard, and feeling that burning in my cheeks and loins. Ugh. Why isn't my body cooling down?  I find myself rocking my hips and rubbing my legs together as I wait, and bite my rather plump lips to keep from outright panting. I so need….

Ed and Jim arrive, and say… something, I'm afraid I'm not paying much attention.  The heat just keeps getting worse… something about Jim not being equipped to help? They take me back into… somewhere… there's a lot of tile and a mirror… oh, showers… Ed reaches for my shirt and helps me get it off…yeah, it's too hot… and takes his own off as well… his three bouncing orbs are entrancing when they're flying free like that…and then takes off his pants,and I see the most wonderful thing ever… I just have to have it… it's a bit small, but still tastes wonderful in my mouth… such a salty ambrosia… but I need more… he doesn't resist as I push him to the ground, quickly putting… something… on that little stick of heaven as I take off my sleeves to end the effects and climb on top of him… ooh, yes, this must be heaven… it feels SO good…

I'm rocked by an earthquake of pleasure that explodes from my middle and rolls out to my fingers, toes, and I think even my hair… at which point my head clears up enough for me to realize: I'm naked in a shower stall, mounted on Ed, who's also naked… who clenches up and thrusts hard beneath me.

I'm pretty high on afterglow, but at least I can think now, “Wait, am I going to get…” I do NOT want to think about that.

“No, I'm wearing a rubber,” Ed reassures me, panting himself, “I got my stash after… well… but I do need to change it now if you want to keep going.”

Yes, yes, thousand times yes, that feels SO good, “No, we should stop,” I actually answer, “and I have a lot to think about to figure out how I feel about this.”

“On the one hand, I took advantage of you when you weren't exactly lucid,” Ed's words reflect my thoughts, “on the other, you were only getting worse, and weren't going to be in a spot to give proper consent unless I did go for it.  Rock and a hard place.” He pauses, “Did I make the right call?”