Chapter 6

“He is the Kumlots Humperach!”

“What?” Ali looked deeply confused as she walked into the room, her brow furrowing as she looked at Opal, who was thrusting her arms into the air, her breasts heaving as she looked upwards at the ceiling, her face a mask of religious devotion.

I gently put my finger against Opal’s back, pushing her. She let herself fall limply onto the bed.

“I’m an orgasm bender,” I said, cheerfully.

“Zuh?” Ali cocked her head.

“We need to educate your girlfriend,” Opal mumbled into the shimmering blue sheets of the bed.

“Leave the tired sci-fi references for later,” Magnum said, his voice gruff as ever as he stepped into the room.

“Tired!?” Opal exclaimed.

“We worked on the Kumlots Humperach for, like, whole minutes!” I put my hands on my hips.

That was when the biokinetic that Ali, Magnum and Tycho had gone hunting for stepped into the room. And the effect was a bit like having your balls shrunk several sizes and then rush screaming into your belly to hide in desperate fear while your dick tries to do the same. I was shocked I didn’t suddenly become as dickless as Walter Peck in that instant. Though to be quite honest, I kinda thought he had a point. You don’t want four failed college professors running around with unlicensed, unregulated particle accelerators and nuclear power plants strapped to their backs. That just had Chernobyl in Manhattan written all over it.

But none of that had anything to do with the fact that a six foot tall, twelve foot wide spider made of pure black nightmare fuel had just scrunched its way into the room. It had fifteen fucking eyeballs, each one set along the central mushroom of its body, and each one glowed with a baleful light. Several mouths opened between the spidery legs, each one drooling and dripping onto the floor as fangs fluttered and twitched inside of puckered lips that were as rubbery black as a deadly dildo bat. The whole creature radiated a kind of menace that made even a Doyen Paladin in their warform seem cuddly and approachable.

“Greetings,” the spider hiss/rumbled/echoed.

“Hi,” I squeaked.

“I am to be your instructor,” the spider hiss/rumbled/echoed.

“My name’s Pirate Mask,” I said, trying to sound calm. It came out as a high pitched whine. Like a balloon escaping.

“To pronounce my name correctly, you would need to ... rip out your tongue,” the spider monster hiss/rumbled/echoed. For purposes of brevity, I will abbreviate that now to ‘said.’

I coughed. “Well, uh, Mr. Underhill,” I said, reaching up to adjust my collar before I remembered I was buck naked and hadn’t worn a collar for what felt like five lifetimes. “Since I’m technically here to learn how to shapeshift, I suppose I could. Uh. Do that.” I grinned. “Right?”

Sherkaner Underhill (that was the name I’d given him, if you don’t get it, read a fucking book philistine) paused for a few moments. His eyes rippled as they blinked in a slow pattern that looked a bit like something a video game would use to show that it was loading a level down at the bottom corner of the screen. Then he said: “I like you, unknown alien.”

“We’re...” I paused. “Vulcans.”

“Yes, Vulcans,” Mangum said, shooting me a glare. “That is, indeed, what we are.”

“Vulcans...” Sherkaner said. “Interesting. Now, we shall have to enter into a chamber with minimal biokinetic residue. This one will not do.”

“It won’t?”

“Too much free floating DNA imprinted into the local skien of subqauntum strata,” Sherkaner said.

I exchanged a glance with Opal. Opal made a ‘hey, don’t look at me, buddy’ expression. Ali covered her mouth, but failed utterly to hide her laughter from our local telepathic field. Her giggles followed me as I stood and followed Sherkaner – and was, myself, followed by Ali. Since, after all, this was theoretically her hiring someone to train one of her slave-servants to be better at doing his slaver slave job.

What was less comforting was her saying: “I’m really hoping that he follows through on that ‘tongue ripping’ thing.” She grinned. “Then maybe you’ll stop making references I don’t get.”

I gulped.

“Wait, no,” Ali said, frowning. “Then I won’t get to orgasm sitting on your face.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Wait, you can cause orgasms through telepathic powers,” she said, nodding.

I gulped again.

I didn’t ask where we were going. At first. Because I figured that, like all grumpy mentors who taught their young but handsome and talented students who were destined to go and save the galaxy from evil, Sherkaner wouldn’t be interested in questions. But by the time he had led us through a back alley and out of the main entrance of Gateway, I was starting to get curious. By the time we were about half a mile into the petrified stump forest, I had to know. I raised my hand.

“Mr. Underhill, where are we going?”

“Do you know why this forest is dead?” he asked.

“Asteroid impact,” I said. “That seems the most likely explanation.”

“Correct.” He paused to let me and Ali scramble over some boulders and then start forcing our way up a dune that he had crested with a few great big steps with his stupid cheating spider legs. “You’re quite an insightful species, you Vulcans. Many here need to study the ancient histories to draw such an inference. Most don’t even know the heavens can fall and flames can sweep across a world.” He bobbed his whole body in a spiderish bow. “Good work in selecting them for your personal slaves, Princess.”

Ali smirked. “They have their upsides.”

I panted. “Glad to know you’re so appreciative of your good, hard working, tongue having slaves.”

“Oh, slave, I was joking about the tongue ripping.”

“Hurm,” the spider said, sounding irritated. “I thought it was quite a good suggestion. Well, we are isolated from most non-microbial life forms here. I shall now demonstrate what a master of the biokinetic arts can accomplish, vulcan.”

And with that, Sherkaner bobbed his body downwards, drawing his legs in against his body. He now looked like a well armored boulder made of pure hatred and evil eyeballs. Then I became aware of a slowly growing heat – a heat that built and built and built. At first, it was comforting, considering the chilly wind that cut through this dead planet’s musty atmosphere. Then it got hotter than that. Red light shone from the boulderish mass of spidery limbs. I lifted one hand – and realized that, since he was showing off, I should instead be watching intently. Then I mentally smacked myself. Peeping with my eyeholes would be fucking useless, considering it was a fucking psychic power he was using. So, I opened up my telepathic senses.

Oh.

Looking at Sherkaner here, with my mind eyes, was an entirely different story. I could see that the heat was actually caused by a telekinetic bubble that was shunting the waste heat from his internal psychic brains to the air around him. And that was because his brains were tugging on a huge amount of psychic energy. But the trick was that he wasn’t doing it fast. Heck, at the rate he was going, it looked like we might be here for a long ass time. But each time he drew psychic power into himself, he expanded his brains, thus, letting him pull in more psychic power.

Holy shit that was dangerous.

Like, it was a bit like making your rocket fly faster by building more engine into it while it was fucking flying through space.

One slip up, and all that psionic energy wouldn’t just not have anywhere to go. It’d have nowhere to go and it’d be entirely contained in his body. It’d be like setting a microwave to death and turning it on inside of your squishy brain. I shuddered at the thought and forced myself to keep my feelings to myself. Any distraction right now would be fucking bad news bears for our highly expensive biokinetic teacher. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Ali was looking shocked as well.

Then the power finished gathering and, like a surgeon operating on a rocket motorcycle while his patient was on a different, slightly faster rocket motorcycle, my biokinetic instructor focused their stored energy into a single massive bodily transformation. Muscle mass and chitin was hurled into subspace, while new flesh was spun from raw nothingness. Skeletal structures bloomed and eyes shifted and vanished and popped. The whole transformation sounded like an orchestra of horror movie Foley artists being run over by a freight train.

When the light faded, Ali and I lowered our hands.

Standing on high heels made of solidified chiten was Lloth, Spider-Goddess of the Drow. Okay. Not literally. But my biokinetic instructor (who I hasten to remind you, had just been a fucking horse sized spider) had become a six foot tall woman with legs that swept up for miles, an ass as perky and full as an Olympic athlete played by a Hollywood movie star (and taut enough to bounce a machine gun belt’s worth of quarters off of), and breasts the size of my fucking head. They were as midnight black as the rest of her completely nude body, and tipped with nipples as white as distant stars. Her hair was a Sarah Kerrigan style profusion of bone-spines that flexed themselves into a cascading pattern as she shook her head and brushed her fingers along her shoulders to clear away tiny bits of steam that clung to her body like a shroud. Her arms were muscular and her fingers were tipped with white nails.

Ali slowly reached over to close my jaw.

“So,” my instructor said. “Do that.”

“I should have gone for Victory Smith,” I whispered.

“What?” Ali looked baffled.

Victory Smith frowned. “I sense you are thrown by my humanoid form.”

“I ... just kinda ... thought...” I said, slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. “You were a dude.”

“I am the male of my species,” Victory said.

“Really?” I asked.

“No.” She frowned. “I have mammary glands. And in my spider-form, I clearly have exposed thuuung and venom injectors. Now!” She clapped her hands, which set her breasts (which I hasten to add, are the size of my fucking head and didn’t need a bra because of fancy space bodies) jiggling. “Transform!”

I held up my hands. “To what?”

Victory pursed her black lips and narrowed her glowing red eyes. I felt as if she was judging me. Not gonna lie? That kind of turned me on. I rubbed my hands together. All right. Transform. I bit my lip, then closed my eyes. I wasn’t about to try doing the whole ‘make a bigger rocket while that rocket is blasting into orbit’ trick. That was definitely Avatar level psionic bullshittery. And I wasn’t Korra, who was better than Aang. Yeah, I’m just full of controversial opinions today. And this wasn’t just me delaying.

It was giving me an idea.

I breathed slowly in, then breathed outwards. I started to pull psychic energy into myself – and did so slowly. As the energy flowed in, filling my mind, I felt the building of heat in my squishy bits. So I added a second level of focus. In the same way that my warform was a projection of tekelekinetic power beyond my skin, I tried to move the heat out of my head and into the air around me. It took quite a bit of effort – and a fuck of a lot of focus. Imagine patting your head and rubbing your belly while also repairing a nuclear power plant.

Ali’s breath caught behind me.

Okay. I had all this power. Now, to use it. But the issue was that if I fuck up my heart bid beat, or crush my nerves, or make my skull to small, or explode my ribs, then all my power wouldn’t mean shit. And so, I mentally constructed the image of what I wanted to be in my head. And that image was all surface. The internal changes would be minor, to reduce the risks. Okay. I got it. I opened my eyes, then slammed my palms together. An explosion of heat swelled out of my body and Ali cried out in shock as my ears shifted up to the top of my head, fur swept along my shoulders, and a tail burst from above my rump. My head expanded and grew into a muzzle and I felt a momentary tightness in my throat as the change in my mouth structure almost choked me off. I quickly corrected, feeling my throat twisting around. It was a bit like strangling yourself from inside your body. Not fun. But I managed, somehow, to get all the pipes working together ... and...

Boom!

I grinned, my floofy tail wagging as I looked down at my balls and my sheath and my belly fur and my muscles and I thrust my paw above my head, hopping up and down in the sand.

“Woof woof!” I laughed. “Eat your fucking heart out, Jay Naylor!”

“Interesting...” Victory said, rubbing a dark finger along a dark chin, her red eyes narrowing to slits. “You’ve altered your external features admirably.”

And, technically, right now, I had done my job. Since the whole point behind this mission was to just change how I looked without fucking dying, so I could do scouting without potentially running into someone who knew what humans looked like. But it felt wrong to just blow off sexy spider-drow chick without learning more. Plus, who knew when biokinetic powers would come in handy. And so, I grinned woofishly and said: “Obviously, a beginner’s move. But I figured it’s better, when showing off to your sifu, you don’t explode your heart.”

Victory reached down and cupped my balls with her hand. She squeezed them together. The impression that made on my newly canidized cock was immediate and utterly dramatic: A bright red cocktip peeked from my knot and a squeaky whine emerged from my throat as my tail started to wag at a gigawag per second. My ears flattened against my head as she pursed her lips.

“We shall begin with gender alteration! Resume your vulcan form!” she drew her hand back, then paused as she saw my cock finishing its emergence. A thick, fist sized knot sat at the bottom of twelve inches of brilliant red wolf-cock. I grinned, sheepishly, as she looked at me and arched an eyebrow ever so slightly.

I grinned, sheepishly. Or should I say ... wolfishly? Eh? Eh? Cause I was a big walking humanoid wolf! Hah! Wait, I’d already described my grin as wolfish. As I kicked myself for jumping the gun on that, Victory sniffed and said: “I’m a biokinetic. Size does not impress me. Technique does. Resume your form. Now!” her voice held that femdom crack that we all loved her for.

I looked at Ali, who wasn’t even trying to hide her giggles.

I shifted back to my human form.

Victory put her hands on her hips, looking out at the desert away from me. Looking at her delicious rump filled me with ... thoughts. Specifically: Dat. Fucking. Ass. She clearly would wait, maybe, five seconds more before she’d step on me. And while being stepped on would be fun and all, if you were into that (and I was alarmed at how much I was into the idea of her stepping on me), I had a mission to do here. And so, I resumed my human form. Since it was where I had started from, it took less energy and was a fuck of a lot easier. Though I made sure to breathe in before transforming, so I had plenty of air during the bit where my throat went a bit screwy. Once I was done, I was once more regular old Abadai Hatem, your average every day part-Vaguely Middle Eastern Californian Teenager with biokinetically enhanced donger and muscles born of a few months in the PsiCom.

Okay, not entirely average then.

“Transforming between genders is the easiest biokinetic art,” Victory said.

“What about changing your skin color?” I asked, cocking my head.

“Besides that,” Victory said, her eyes narrowing.

“Or making your ears pointed.”

“Besides that.”

“Or making your hair longer?”

“Transforming between genders is the easiest real biokinetic art,” Victory snarled. I grinned slightly, then started to listen as Victory laid out the basics. “You need to reach inside of your body and feel the chromosomal structures that you are born with. Vulcans are, like all life forms, based on their cells and the cells of their mothers and their fathers. By finding that blueprint, you can extrapolate outwards from how life might have gone, had your father not buried his gagnar deep within your mother’s least favorite eye-socket and emptied his semi-acidic limpet sperm into her pleasure centers-”

“I get it!” I exclaimed, holding up my hands. “Just ... just ... let me focus, okay?”

She inclined her head, slightly, her Kerrigan style hair clittering and clattering as all the little spike fingers rearranged themselves in the cold, bitter wind of the desert. I closed my eyes and breathed in, then reached deep inside of my body with my awareness. It took a few moments of coaxing, but I started to feel an awareness of different possibilities. There were ancient genes in my body – recessive and suppressed. I could feel distant, barely remembered echoes of breathing water. I could feel closer echoes of tails, of lacking thumbs. Of liking the Star Wars prequels. All these vestigial genetic features were there for me to grab. But, sounding loudest of all, was a congenital diabetic condition and male pattern baldness.

Eep!

... but slightly less loud was being a chick!

Less eep!

I felt that blueprint and brought it to the fore. When the change had finished, I opened my eyes and squeaked in shock. I know, it was dumb to be so shocked. I was using biokinetic powers to transform my physical gender. Or ... physical sex, I could never keep track of which one it was. But it was still a shock to feel your donger vanish and get replaced with pussy lips, and to feel your chest swell with two tiny titties. It was even more shocking to feel your bones shift and settle as you grew shorter and more femmy – a change in jaw structure, an alteration in rib count, everything. I put my hands on my chest, then hissed as I felt my fingers touching my puffy nipples.

Ohh ... I thought, my teeth biting onto my lower lip.

Vicky slapped my hands away from my chest. “Stimulate yourself on your own time, slave.”

I quivered. Nnh. Okay. Uh. Wow. I had been turned on with her femdom attitude as a dude. Now that I was in a girl, her curvaceous Queen Bitch of the Universe routine was basically setting off tingly alarm bells in my head. And the alarm went: Step on me. Step on me. Step on me. I forced those feelings backwards as I tried out using my mouth to form words. And, fortunately, those words weren’t offering myself to become her lesbian fucktoy for the foreseeable future. I mean, I had learned some things in basic. Instead, I said: “What’s next, Vicky?”

“You’re such a cute girl!” Ali cooed.

I grinned, giving her a thumbs up.

“Ohmygods!” Ali put her hands over her mouth. “Your nose!”

I blinked, putting my hand on my nose. And I felt that there, right next to my nose, was a big old mole. I gasped. “Aww!”

“It adds character!” Ali said, quickly.

“So does a ding in a car door,” I muttered, pouting. Cutely, I might add.

“Ahem,” Vicky coughed. “The next thing to learn is how to view and examine other beings.” She lifted her nose. “I invite you to examine me.”

I looked at her.

Still hot.

Vicky reached out and smacked to the top of my head a glancing blow.

“Examine me with your biokinesis!”

“Right!” I shook my head, trying to use my fingers to get my hair back into some measure of control. I furrowed my brow and tried to reach outwards with my biokinetic talent. And it turned out feeling your own butt with your biokinesis was a fuck of a lot easier than feeling someone elses’. I was able to get faint whispers of her body – this wasn’t like examining her telepathically. When she had been building up her power, she had been radiating. It was like examining something as hot as the sun. You don’t need a lot of range to notice that. Right now though? She was just there, being her Sexy Drowish Kerrigan self. And that gave my biokinesis nothing much to grab onto.

“Hmm...” Vicky said, her hair twitching. “Your range seems a touch weak. Interesting. Not all biokinetics have range – don’t look so distraught.” She waved her hand. “If more did, then assassinations would be a great deal easier.”