Ten minutes to break in and ten to get out. The statue of a naked muscular man, with the bust of a lion glared at her from the entrance. She waited by the alley behind the building with the patience of winter. She had been keenly eyeing the surveillance drones hovering by her like red discs of poinsettia flowers, barely swishing past her two meter blind spot. She seemed oblivious to the cat with a glossy coat that was playing with an injured bird by the trashcans. And then she finally she caught a splinter inside her head, and the transformation kicked in.
The spark got her moving through space with a falcon's precision. The reigns hardened inside like the edges of a rock. Even the moon seemed like it had sunk down a bit and was now waiting for her bidding. Even in her breathing, she could feel a growl sprout in her voice, and her posture became more assured. There were no outward signs. Only the shape of how she held herself changed.
She had to be precise. Her power of hypnosis came to her at it's own whim. A second's delay, and she could lose control of the person. Diving in from the high sky of dominance to the deep trenches of submission, where even the least self-resolved humans could kick her mind about like it was just a pebble. The image of the boy with the pink hair burst inside her in smoke. It was just a memory planted by Schrödinger, she tried to helplessly usher herself. It vanished as swiftly, leaving a puddle of fear inside her as if frozen mid splash. Where was Schrödinger?
"Our god is the dice! Our god is the dice!"
She could still hear the waves of chorus rising far away, at the heart of the city. The noise splashed against forest of buildings, trickling over the shards of window glass that lay on the floor of the apartment. The apartment belonged to the mayor. The source of the chorus, were probably going to be gassed soon, their lungs rebelling against their own rebel cause. But it was a good distraction. The mayor probably felt safe in her opulent home here. Kani had to find Schrödinger. He had not visited the lab for days.
Her ears pricked at each small tick of her watch, that stuck out of all the sounds like needles. Ten minutes to break in and ten to get out.
Inside the apartment, the mayor's husband, lay in his fresh pink bath robe, in the corner of the room, his legs splayed wide open. It took merely seconds to unhook his inhibitions. He looked like a holm oak that had been spread apart asymmetrically. His one knee was bent and another leg stretched wide. Over the hum of the protesters, his cock stood, a thick muscle, like undisturbed salve, frozen and lit in worship. You could hear his hands sliding from one end of his shaft to another, lubing itself, and causing drops of white froth coiling around his thighs.
She felt her own muscles tauten and her nipples stiffen against her latex clothes, inching towards the crevice of her zip, where her cleavage rose up and down as her breath deepened. His gruff train of groans ricocheted against the walls, "Yes..yes..yes". The effect from her probing their little brains, always swung back like a boomerang. It took all her resolve from tearing her zip open and reaching down. She instead ran her palm around the veins of her neck and regained composure. Her attention then flickered towards the wife.
The wife, the mayor. She was going to be a tougher shell to crack. An implant of some sort. They all did these days. But this one felt like it had gone through the machinations of Heisenberg. And only deepest of pockets could afford Heisenberg.
She had at least managed to have the mayor on her knees in front of the inordinately large bed draped in a thick blanket of red.
The walls that Heisenberg erected inside people's heads were unusual though. The mere act of opening a door changed the room you eventually entered. She could feel herself squeeze through the tunnels in the mayor's brain and swim past the emotions of the day. The late evening caffeine shot lead to a mid-afternoon aggression. The scent of the chapsticks lead to a forest trail of an infatuation. The trick was to open multiple doors at once. That was the only way to get past Heisenberg.
An infatuation? This one wasn't laced with nostalgia like her pink longing. It seemed too strong for her husband. She gave him a look. The stiffest men were barely held together. Just the right push, and they broke like a wine glass on the edge of table. The man was drenched. His bathrobe lay bunched up next to him. The contour of his chiseled stomach shone with sweat. His hair flew wildly like a disheveled fern. She watched him spreading his own cum on his face, pulling his robe apart, flicking his nipples, his face contorted in a state of pathetic trance.
This new monument of infatuation inside the mayor's head was far away from where this whore of a husband had taken residence in her neural network. Someone else. Her pussy had been wandering. If you saw her persona on TVs, the way she would talk about the new sanctions on Switches, it would make you think she was conceived in the church. Sanctions she spoke of with the air of someone who would made sex sound like fixing a broken oil tank. Switches were an aberration in the natural programming, she said. To be a switch is to be inhuman. The human order had to be split evenly into two shades. Where the number two crawled out of was only the best scientist's guess. The artist was a mad being. A promiscuous creature unsure of it's own form. We were meant to bathe in the grub of destiny, as the laws decided where immutable.
Kani liked the feeling of the infatuation she found inside the mayor. It wore a dark shade of lust. It glowed like hot coal. Maybe power was her olive and dark chocolate. She wanted to wait till it perched on her mind's tongue little longer. This wasn't like the feeling she felt for the boy with the pink hair. An image of him collecting shells at a beach conjured and vanished.
To keep her attention from fluttering, she tightened her grip under the mayor's jaw. Maybe just a taste. She stuck her tongue out barely inches from the mayor's pink lips and nose hook, as if she could physically taste the feelings that had frantically authored new pages inside her. Her grip loosened just a bit. But it stayed there.
"Doesn't it feel good? Finally finding your meaning with the floor against your knees. This where you really belong, mayor."
The mayor babbled back, head swaying lightly not looking her in the eye. Her forehead had creases of resistance.
"What's that?"
Kani leaned lower, her heels barely inches from the mayor's flushed thigh.
"Fuck you!" the Mayor responded and spat on her face.
"Oh, my! Your tongue swings one way and the rest of you another," Kani said, licking the spit of her lips, recognizing the strawberry of the chapsticks. She dragged her feet against the mayor's crotch, lifting her night gown. Wet drops were hanging from between her. She could smell her. The mayor started pressing her own nipples over her gown, her hands trembling trying to barely hold up to the force of Kani inside her head.
"Be a good slut for me", Kani's voice cut through her like poison. Her nipples stood erect revolting against the stars on her gown, aching to be released. Kani could feel the steam of the battle inside the mayor's head. She liked the feeling of how shaken they felt by the vapors of their own arousal. As if a river shattered a dam inside them they never knew existed.
