The Nuclear Nude presented by atEROS

Stories atEROS _TM Presents
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Copyright © 1999 by Elaine Blankenship. All rights reserved.
The Nuclear Nude

by Lainie Lee

This story has adult themes and sexual situations. Adults only please.
Copyright 1999 Elaine Blankenship. All rights reserved. Member 
NACU.
================================

The Nuclear Nude

by Lainie Lee

Barris Newcombe had always wanted to be a superhero.  Except when he 
considered being a supervillain, instead.  The problem was, just how 
does one acquire super powers?

When he was a young teenager, Barris had subscribed to all the fan 
magazines, trying to get a clue as to just how one could become a 
super-being.  Just like several million other fans.

Super groups like the Volunteers, the Society of Protectors, the Allied 
Overfolk, The Pride of Manhattan or the Blue Galaxy never seemed to 
advertise for members.  Sure there were ads like "Develop your Psychic 
Powers" and "Super Flame Powers in Just Seven Days." These always 
turned out to be scams; send in $39.95 for a book on butane flame-
throwers.  Yeah right.

Barris still blushed when he remembered the money he had spent on the 
Herbal Secret Formula for New Powers of the Mind that turned out to be 
mustard seed according to the expose done on 20/20.  He had wondered 
at the time why practicing his psychic energy building had made his 
burps smell like corn dogs.

But this ad looked different.  Just like always, Barris immediately forgot 
the warnings often printed in the better fanzines.  Warnings by heroes 
like Mandragonne, Spiderboy, Starfall and The Lark; there is no surefire 
method for becoming a superhero.  If you aren't born with powers or 
haven't the brains to invent something to give yourself an edge against a 
supervillain, you just have to hope you are fortunate enough to live 
through some freak accident that ought to have killed you but instead 
you end up with the ability to turn daisies purple or something.  Yeah 
right.

Still....

The ad said, "Be All That You Might Be."  And a phone number.  And it 
wasn't a 900 number.  Was that a cool ad or not?  Simple.

After a lot of hassle, here he was.  A deserted warehouse in a city near 
where he lived, a volunteer guinea pig for a man who could only be 
described as a mad scientist.  Barris shivered with fear and anticipation.

"There's a good chance that this will kill you, Mr. Newcombe," said the 
man who called himself the Destinator.  "Or cripple you or leave you a 
mindless gibbering hulk.  Or something worse."

"You can't talk me out of this, Destinator." said Barris, enjoying the 
opportunity to exhibit a little bravado.  Then, "What could possibly be 
worse?"

"Who knows?" The Destinator shrugged.  "I've done this experiment 
seven times before."

"And one of those guys has become The Man Called Sudden?"

"Sure, sure, that's what I said, ain't it?  The bastard has been after me 
ever since, too.  Teleported in on me in the bathroom once, ungrateful.... 
But remember, one of the others is that lump of semi-sentient lead over 
there." The grayish, manlike form of Leadbelly shifted a little and moved 
forward, unsure if its presence was being commanded.  "Get back, you 
idiot," the Destinator ordered.  Leadbelly subsided.

Barris gulped.  "I understand."

Destinator stared at his volunteer.  Barris was 32, a little balding, a little 
short, a little overweight. Really, not a very prepossessing sight.  But the 
man had quit his job as a tax accountant, followed the Destinator's 
complex shifting instructions and arrived at this warehouse 
unaccompanied by the media or any law-enforcement organization, 
meta-human or otherwise.  And he wasn't married, had no children or 
living parents or, indeed, any relatives closer than a few 2nd or 3rd 
cousins.  He was perfect.

Barris licked his lips again.  They were getting dry.  "Now, you say I 
don't really have to DO anything?"

The Destinator shook his head and turned back to the dials of his control 
panel. "Just stand there.  On the Disk of Destiny," he knew the name was 
corny but these fanboys lived on corn.  "I need a living sentient subject 
for the experiement.  Let's just hope you stay that way."
"What exactly are you going to do to me?"

The Destinator sighed.  "What do you know about transfinite probability 
matrices?"

"Um.  Nothing."

The Destinator smiled.  "I'm going to turn your probability vector ninety 
degrees from the plane of existence.  Then turn it back."

"And that will give me super powers?"

A shrug.  "It might."

"Okay." Barris braced himself, he wasn't a complete fool.  Likely he was 
going to die horribly.  But maybe it would be quick instead of being 
buried alive in one of the Big Six accounting firms and slowly strangled 
in audits and meetings.

The Destinator closed the switch.

Barris flinched.  Time, turned sideways, spread out in front of him like 
an Escher staircase.  The incidents of his previous life moved awayfrom 
him like the steps and risers of a non-Euclidean escalator.  Everything he 
had ever seen, felt or heard; thought, hoped or smelt, happened again; all 
at once.

Naturally, he screamed.  He also tried to turn and run, and leap from a 
precipice and hurl himself into the inferno and every other possible 
panicky inexpedient method of escape from the pain of being himself; 
now, then, and forever in a frozen moment.

Time had become distance and distance, rotation and rotation, 
probability and probability, noise and noise, thought... and other even 
stranger, semantically null transformations happened over and over and 
over. 

Then, the Destinator opened the switch.

Barris stood there trembling for a moment.  The mad scientist stood 
staring up at him.  "I don't believe it," the Destinator muttered.

"W-What?" stammered Barris.  "Am I gross?  Am I ugly?  Deformed?" 
Having said those those things, the hope almost materialized that it 
would be true, that the machine had retrieved from Elsewhere some 
tragic figure like The Cybernaut, half human, half machine.  Or Purple 
Jesus, 25 feet of glowing violet menace.  Or...

"No," said the Destinator, puncturing Barris's dreams of martyred 
heroism or turtured villainy.  "You look just the same as you did before." 
He sounded disappointed.

Not half as much as his volunteer. Barris looked down at hands that were 
just hands.  He felt of his face that was just a face.  He raised a foot that 
was just a foot and lowered  it again.  He tried to summon flames or ice, 
force fields or flying tigers.  He tried to transform into a giant, or a 
microbe, a rhino or a pterodactyl.  Nothing happened.  He couldn't 
teleport or solve quantum mechanical equations in his head.  He couldn't 
sing loud enough to shatter glass or run fast enough to deliver pizza 
without using a car.

"Damnit." He wanted to cry.  He waved weakly at the Destinator.  "Do it 
again."

The mad scientist snorted.  "You've got to be kidding.  We've blown 
power transformers and busbars over half the city.  We have to get out of 
here before some meddling metahuman can find us.  Leadbelly!  Start 
breaking this equipment up." The figure of Leadbelly, looking like some 
partially melted monstrously large toy soldier stumbled about the room, 
wrecking the gleaming copper tubes, the shining glass cylinders, the 
wonderfully, wacky, art nouveau, Teslaesque, tableau.

"You'd better get out of here, too, Barris," the Destinator warned. 
"Innocent bystanders don't fare so well when the boltlobbers start firing.  
We'll meet soon and I'll debrief you about your experience and maybe 
we can try again later."

Eyes burning, heart broken, Barris ran.

* * *

Hours later he stumbled back into the lobby of the little motel where he 
had spent the previous night.  He was broke and he'd forgotten where he 
had parked the car, or else it had been stolen.  But he was paid up for 
another night here at The Lariat Motor Lodge so he'd walked the 
twenty-six blocks from the abandoned warehouse.  He didn't know what 
he would do tomorrow.  It didn't really matter anymore, he supposed.

"May I help you?" the clerk asked.  It was the same clerk from last night.

"I-I've mislaid my key.  Room 213."

The clerk looked doubtful.  "Do you have any ID?"

Barris shook his head.  The Destinator had insisted that Barris carry no 
ID with him to the rendezvous, all of that had been left in the car and 
was consequently, now missing. "You checked me in last night.  Don't 
you remember?  Just before midnight?"  Barris had left nothing in the 
room, but he had paid in advance and he needed a place to spend the 
night.

The clerk thumbed through the register.  "What's your name?" he asked.

"Barris Newcombe." He recited his driver's license number and the plate 
number of his car.  The clerk squinted at him and said something 
peculiar but handed the key over.

Gratefully, Barris stumbled up the stairs to the fourteen foot by twelve 
foot refuge.

The motel room seemed especially barren and friendless, with none of 
the comforts of home.  Worse it was the nearest thing to home Barris had 
left, he had abandoned it all in his pursuit of the impossible dream.  
Home, job, the hope of any sort of normal life.  All his friends were 
people like himself, acquaintances really, people he had met at 
conventions held for superhero fans.  He hadn't had a real friend since 
the fifth grade when Calvin Hamilton had defended him from the bullies 
that had tagged him with that embarrassing nickname.

He collapsed across the concrete-like bed with a stifled sob.

Barris Newcombe had the misfortune to have both a first and last name 
that lent themselves readily to puns.  Of the two, he preferred Nukem to 
Bareass.  When the video game came out he had enjoyed a brief feeling 
of popularity with the new, but temporary nickname of Duke.  The video 
faded from popularity and Barris had discovered his new nickname 
faded, too.

What would he do now?  No job, no car, no home, no money, no friends.  
It went without saying, no girlfriend.  In fact, Barris had never had a 
girlfriend for many obvious and profound reasons.  But especially, no 
super powers.  It just wasn't fair.  He had done everything he could to get 
super powers; he, more than a lot of these two-bit crooks and tin-god 
superheroes, deserved super powers.

He sighed.  Well, at least he had another night of comfort before he took 
up his new career of sleeping under bridges.  And a nice hot shower 
would feel good.  He moved toward the bathroom, shedding clothes as 
he went, his dumpy, balding, aging form emerging from its polyester and 
cotton cocoon..

It must have started happening as soon as he dropped the last piece of 
clothing.  Reaching into the shower stall he realized that his hand looked 
different.  More slender and the arm above it also, thinner and 
more--well--graceful.  He stared, turning the hand and bringing it in 
close to his slightly near-sighted eyes.

The nails grew long and well-shaped even as he watched and a rosy tint 
seemed to form in the very substance of the nail itself.  Rose that 
deepened to red, a red as ripe and delicious as any cherry that ever 
bloomed in spring time.  He brushed something back from his face then 
he realized it was hair.  Long blonde, curly hair.  Growing from his own 
head.  He backed away from the shower and quickly turned to see 
himself in the mirror.

She looked back at him in wonder as her face melded and changed.  
Lumpy nose becoming cutely retrousse.  Eyebrows arching perfectly 
with hints of lavender shadow on the lids.  Beestung lips ripening into a 
perfect cupid's bow and as red as the nails.  She opened her mouth and 
made a mewling sound that might have been a whispered "Omigod!" that 
turned into a lilting squeak of astonishment.

The change hadn't finished.  The male chest had already changed some, 
no hair and little adolescent cookie breasts.  Quickly the breasts 
expanded, now little cherry pop-tarts, seconds later apricots, peaches, 
apples, pears, oranges, grapefruit, cantaloupes!  The feeling of expansion 
exploded across Barris' psyche like ack-ack in a John Wayne movie.

"Stop!" Barris squealed.  The breasts stopped growing, just a little short 
of unbelievable.  Just as if they had been listening.  He looked down at 
himself, down the valley between the melon-sized tits and caught a 
glimpse of something even more alarming happening.

Barris made a grab for his disappearing manhood but the balls and penis 
shrank away from his grasp, folding up inside him.  It felt incredible, it 
felt exactly as if he had just fucked himself.

Herself.  Shuddering with the climax, she checked it out with her hands.  
Yup, the right pronouns were now definitely female.  Moaning, she 
rubbed her hands all over her now satiny smooth body, incidentally 
distributing the juices she had found in her pussy across her domed 
tummy, her swelling breasts, her widening thighs.

She dropped one hand back to her wet little box and with the other 
rubbed and pinched her breasts and nipples.  It felt so good she wondered 
if she would ever be able to stop.  Another rippling, shuddering, galvanic 
orgasm wracked her body and she cried out before staggering backward 
and collapsing on the bed.

"Oh, shit!" she breathed.  Maybe I'd better just lie here for awhile, she 
decided.  It was hard to keep her hands off herself; she felt so, so 
sensitized.  Obviously, the Destinator's equipment had had an effect after 
all.  Just a delayed one.  "I've been turned into a woman!" she said out 
loud.  "A beautiful woman," she added.

Wonderingly, she touched her face, her lips, her hair, her breasts, her 
pussy, that little button at the top of the slit, whoo!  Then she did hardly 
any thinking at all for awhile as she explored the pleasures of her new 
body.

Later, she slept.  And when she woke up, she masturbated again.  After 
all, Barris had never had the opportunity to explore a female body 
before, everything was very new to him.  Her.

After her fifth or sixth orgasm since waking up, Barris realized 
something.  "I'm hungry," she said aloud.  Her new voice sounded so 
cute and sexy.  Higher-pitched than his old one, with a lilting cadence 
and a hint of a childish lisp.  Barris had no idea why she should sound 
like, like, like such a sexy, air-headed bimbo.  But she did.

"I kinda like it," she said out loud and kicked her feet in the air and 
giggled.  Then she lay for awhile and played with herself again until 
once more she felt the pangs of hunger.  "I'm really hungry, now." She 
tried a pout, sat up and looked at herself in the mirror.  Then stood up for 
a better look.

Tousled blonde hair curled past her waist, a brilliant sunshine yellow 
with highlights of gold and red and sparkling silver.  Her eyes were 
blue-green, with long dark lashes under perfectly arched brows and 
delicate shades of lavender and rose and teal on her eyelids.  Her cupid's 
bow lips were crimson and scarlet and red and looked delicately swollen 
as if they had just been bruised by a kiss.  Her finger and toenails 
matched, a red like a firetruck.  Her skin was pale, not icy though, but a 
warm delicate rose pink.

The breasts seemed huge because her waist and shoulders were so 
narrow.  Barris broke off looking at herself at that point and decided 
she'd better take a shower before she succumbed to self-abuse again.

"I've got a super power!" she trilled.  Well, she had always said she'd 
give anything to become a superhero.  The loss of her manhood didn't 
seem so bad at the moment.  "Like I wasn't using it much anyway," she 
giggled.

She had a lot of fun in the shower, playing with herself some more.  
"Darnit, I am just so sexy!" she complained.  But she didn't really mind.

She dried herself off in front of the mirror, watching herself as much as 
she could.  "I'm gorgeous!" Barris had never given much thought to such 
an outcome of his search for super-powers but what the hey!

She fluffed at her hair, it seemed to dry quickly but she knew she would 
need a comb for the mass of curls.  Or did she?  Her fingers seemed to be 
doing a more than adequate job.  Maybe one of her powers was always 
looking well-groomed?  The shower had not disturbed her makeup, if she 
was wearing makeup.  And she had no hair on her anywhere but her 
head.  Somehow she didn't think she was going to have to shave her legs 
or wax her bikini line.

Right about then, the weirdness got to her a little.  She had been 
transformed from a dumpy little accountant to a ravishing beauty, a 
Marilyn Monroe look-alike, sort of.  But with better tits and....and.....

This was a super power?

"I'm still hungry," she decided.  "But what am I going to wear?" She 
certainly had nothing appropriate for the coquettish little tart she had 
become.  The new Barris looked as if she would buy her clothes at 
Frederick's of Hollywood or some such place.  She giggled and squirmed 
a little.  It was actually a little embarrassing to contemplate wearing 
women's clothes let alone walking into a store and actually buying some.

A little nervously, she picked up her old shirt wondering if it would fit 
over the new breasts.  She decided to try it on.  When she slipped her 
arm through the sleeve she felt the change beginning.

It wasn't near as pleasant going back the other way.  In fact, having her 
tits smashed flat and her clitoris stretched out of her body until it became 
a penis was a hellish experience.

Barris almost passed out from the pain and slipped his arm back out of 
the shirt.  Instantly, the change reversed again and breasts bloomed and 
the penis shrank, the sensation was pleasant but less intense than the first 
transformation.  "What the heck," said Barris in her listing soprano.

She put the shirt back on and felt herself change painfully back into a 
man.  "What the hell," he muttered.

A little experimentation proved it.  If she attempted to wear any of his 
clothes, she became him.  "Damn," he said finally, after putting his own 
shirt back on for the umpteenth time.  "I'm hungry and I'm still broke.  
And my super power seems to be to turn into a bimbo when I'm naked." 
Maybe if he had some women's clothes to dress herself in, she wouldn't 
turn into a guy.

"Or maybe," he said, slipping the shirt off again.  "Maybe I've got other 
powers when I'm the babe." The sensation of changing into _she_ was 
almost worth the pain of changing into him.

She looked at herself in the mirror again.  She was aware now that she 
was several inches shorter in her female self and she looked too slender 
and cute to fight her way out of a secretary pool but maybe she had 
hidden abilities.  "Here goes nothing!" she said, hoping that she was 
wrong.

She gestured at the walls.  No force bolts pierced the tacky paintings.  
She leapt into the air and tried to zoom away.  She didn't seem able to 
fly.  She stared at things, but nothing froze or burned or anything.  
"Gosh," she swore.  "I guess I'm just useless."

Pouting, she flung herself across the bed.  "What use is super powers if 
you can't fly or break things?" She turned on her back and contemplated 
playing with herself again.  That was certainly fun.  "But I'm too upset," 
she decided.  "It just makes me so mad, I could explode."

That was it, that was her superpower. She realized it just as she 
exploded. The problem was, how do you use such a power where all you 
can do is get naked and blow up?

The end of the motel went up in a respectable-sized fireball, incinerating 
the room Barris had been in, the room below, fortunately empty and 
singeing a beat-up old Chevy pickup and a nearly new Toyota Camry.  
Several terrorist organizations would have been quite happy to claim the 
explosion as one of theirs and a few might have tried to do so if the 
destruction of the Lariat Motel in Wilcox, Arizona had ever made the 
international news.

(To be continued?)
=====================
Copyright 1999 by Elaine Blankenship
Have you read any Naughty Words _TM lately?