The following story contains transformation, mind control, orgies, and dubious consent (due to the mind control). Those who wish to avoid such themes might be best served by going to read something else.
*
If I had to say one thing about Delta Iota Kappa (and most people wouldn't bother), it's that they absolutely suck at throwing parties. We were three weeks into the school year, time for their "back to school bash", and this one was shaping up to be more of a dud than usual.
It was a run of the mill frat party, at best. An oversized set of bargain bin speakers belted out generic dance music off of the "DJ's" secondhand macbook. A lot of thumping base, and fuck all in terms of any actual music. A small group of girls had started dancing in the center of the room, but their expressions looked forced. More determined to have fun than actually having a good time. Around them, a bunch of overdressed and overly desperate underclassmen milled about, mostly centered around the kegs and their hopes of a cheap buzz.
I sniffed at my untouched cup and wrinkled my lips. Cheap was right. How the hell did they get get away with calling this stuff beer? It was a good thing that these freshmen didn't know enough to be picky, or the crowd would be even lighter.
In short, this party was lame. Luckily for them, somebody (read: me) had decided to fix that.
"What the hell man, I thought you said this was going to be the best party ever."
That was Kevin, my longtime best buddy and occasional partner in mischief.
"Give it time."
"You've got something nefarious planned, don't you."
"Nefarious? Me? Would I ever do something like that?"
He chose to ignore my protests.
"Do our generous hosts know about this plan of yours?" he asked, pointing towards the uninspiring group of frat brothers by the sound system.
"A good magician never reveals his secrets," I said. Maybe a bit too smugly, but Kev was asking for it.
"True, but what's that got to do with you?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Fine," I said, "Since I'm telling one person - you - about it, let's just say I'm a decent magician."
He gave me a flat stare.
"Well, I'm ok."
We made our way over to the punch bowl, and what passed as the party's bar, the only part of the house that even remotely passed as crowded. There was more than a little complaining, people muttering about how much this party blew, saying they ought to go find somewhere else. Funny thing, though, not a one of them actually left.
Complaining or not, they all stayed.
A group of awkward looking girls milled next to the speaker holding half empty cups of beer, or maybe it was runny goat vomit, I couldn't tell the difference. They kept going on about how much fun they were having, each louder and more insincere than the last. In between bragging about how much fun they weren't having, the girls were packed tight into their own little circle gossiping about some boring class they shared. Yawn! I almost felt sorry for them.
Really, they ought to be thanking me for what I was doing tonight. I mean, did any of them really want to spend another boring night huddled together pretending that they were actually having fun? No, of course not. My plans were so much better.
Kevin stopped beside one of the girls, a lanky girl whose dress would have better suited someone whose bra was just a few sizes larger. There was a mix of confusion and outrage as he laid his hand on her arm, but in less than a second her face went blank. I watched, smirking, as her chest began to inflate.
"So how long until she notices?" I asked once they had blossomed into a nice heavy pair of double Ds.
"I figured a half hour or so should do," he said
"Just in time."
"Right. For this mysterious plan of yours," Kevin rolled his eyes as his hand brushed up against the next girl in the circle, a stacked blonde who had blown right past the freshman fifteen and was going for thirty.
Before my eyes, her pudge shrank away into a slender hourglass that showed off her wide hips to best effect. Her once bulging dress drew tight about her tiny waist as it slimmed down with the rest of her, and before I knew it the low hemline was showing off a pair of toned calves in their fullest perfection.
Body control, right. That had always been Kevin's thing. Just one touch, and he could mold a person's body to just about anything he wanted. Not permanent, so far as I could tell. He always grew cagey whenever I asked. Regardless, it was a pretty slick Talent. By this time tomorrow, everyone he touched would be normal again. That girl, I'd bet, would be sad to see it wear off, but with luck it would motivate her to get back in shape. So far as I could tell, Kev hadn't done more than slim her down a bit (ok, a lot). With some effort, she could really be a looker.
Sometimes I envied how quick and direct Kevin's Gift was. Just one touch and poof, they were changed. Mine was a bit more subtle, and a whole lot slower, but that didn't stop me from having fun with it.
The two of us had been friends ever since we were little kids. It was only to be expected, after all, considering the secret our two families shared. Powers. Calling them 'super' powers would have been an exaggeration, but we still had abilities above and beyond what normal humans could do. No one knows why, or where they come from. It's been called many different things throughout history. Magic, a gift from the gods, super powers. Shamans, witches, wizards, all sorts of names people have had for those with the gift. The names changed, but the truth stayed the same.
I wonder, sometimes, if the first comic book publishers knew about us. The old stories are a lot closer, in some ways, to what we actually are. Especially compared to modern superheroes. Did you know that Superman, in his first appearance, was just a really strong guy who could jump pretty far? No flying yet, and certainly no circling the globe so fast he reverses time itself. Just a big, strong, especially fast guy. An exaggeration, but not so very far from the actual truth.
Who knows how many of us there are in the world. Thousands, definitely, maybe a few tens of thousands. A hundred or so thousand at the most. Not a tiny number, but vanishingly small spread out across the world. Normies were a lot less superstitious these days, but we still kept to ourselves. Mostly.
Even if people did notice, who'd believe them? For once, tabloid trash was our best friend. For every person caught using their Gift, there were hundreds of delusional cranks complaining that Bigfoot stole a slice of toast with Moses's face on it.
Made pranking a whole lot easier, let me tell you.
