Chapter 3

A little internal questioning failed to reveal her purpose, beyond the lack of danger posed by it, proving once again how inadequate my imagination was. I didn't bother to dress up, just putting on a t-shirt (I usually run around in shorts at home), despite the fact that she was noticeably made-up and dressed to kill, in high heels, a skimpy skirt, and a corset-like garment that really made her tits stand out, and blinked out to answer the door.

I was stunned for a moment. Oh, not by her. Just a few days ago, she had a height advantage, and now I was the taller one, if only just barely, heels included. I had to concede, if only to myself, that I was eating at least four times my pre-manifestation food intake - oh, yes, manifestation is the 'correct' terminology for mutant trait emergence. My metabolism had me growing up really fast, and I was wondering if I'd make average height. Not that I had any issues with being short, but it's definitely to be a something of problem when you needed to reach those top shelves. Short people live longer. It's statistically proven, and I can even offer a scientific explanation for it, if you care to stay around long enough for the seven hour lecture.

"Tiffany, right?" I didn't give her a chance to speak. "What in hell are you doing here?"

"Well, after I figured out that you were a mutant, I wanted to meet you."

I couldn't read her expression, but again, there was no danger sign. "And now that you've met me?" I inquired with polite aplomb. Trying to deny that I was a mutant would be an insult to her intelligence, and I was impressed that she'd figured it out. Of course, she did have the advantage of seeing me take down three guys in five seconds, not to mention falling on me with all her weight, without my getting hurt. Still, nobody else at school seemed to have a clue.

"Boy, for a superhero, you don't look like much," she shook her head.

I started to say something nasty (as in, "for a superslut..."), but swallowed it. There was no reason to allow myself to be provoked. Besides, "Perhaps that's because I'm not a superhero," I gave her a tight smile. "Now, was there anything else?" I pushed the door a bit less open, a not terribly subtle hint.

"Yeah. See," she breathed deeply, the words coming out in a rush, "I was curious about sex with a mutant. Are you any better than normal guys?"

Okay, color me STUNNED. Not gaping at her like a fish required supreme mental effort, and descent into fast time. Or is that ascent? Let's call it spiral.

I was both confused and conflicted. No feelings of lust or anticipation, or anything of the sort, which really contributed to the conflicted feelings. I'd read a lot of fiction and internet fiction, and when the story gets to the point where the guy is saying that he's not ready, I always laughed, losing the thread of belief. I mean, really, a guy refusing sex? That sort of breaks the definition of guy ... and here I was, sort of disinterested in serving as fuckmeat. Talk about shaking my worldview and perception of reality. Thinking back, I realized that it had been almost four days since I'd last masturbated, where I used to do it a minimum of twice a day, which was really worrisome. I experimented, thinking of Tiff nude and ... okay, the equipment works. Which meant that...

"I'm the super smart kind of mutant," I relaxed, pushed the door all the way open and replied in a much more friendly tone. "Come in, relax, drink something, and give me five minutes to think about whether I can rock your world."

It was her turn to be shocked, as this was obviously not the response she'd expected and steeled herself for. Her paralysis went on for long enough that I lost patience, and ported us to the living room, giving her a little TK push. We both fell back into the pillow-covered comfy couches that faced the big screen TV, and I brought us soft drinks and some munchies from the kitchen, the slow way. Tiff went way pale, now that it was real, and I suppressed a smirk.

Her eyes almost bugged out at the floating tray, and I just smiled at her in pleasure. All the while, I was working a mile a minute, reading up on sex guides, investigating sex shops, and getting to know her body. No, not that way, I was just looking at her inside and out and cataloging possible erogenous zones. It wasn't just my brains I'd use to turn her inside out (no, not literally), but telekinesis. Okay, so maybe it was just my brains. I had sufficiently fine control to produce caresses, little bites, suckling action, and the like. I took the time to practice on my own skin, to learn how much force not to apply - yowch. She gulped down a glass of coke, and just sat there, staring at me.

The five minutes went by in weirdly charged silence, and Tiff jumped when I turned to look at her and declared loudly, "Yes."

"Huh?"

"I mean yes, if you want, I can give you a superpowered sexual experience," she shivered and gasped at the light caresses I sent all over her skin. "You feel what I mean," I nodded.

"Oh my God!" Tiffany whispered, mostly to herself, shaking herself like a bitch throwing off water. It didn't take her long to decide, "Yes, do it! I want to..."

That was as far as she got before I ported us to my bedroom, leaving our clothes behind, and started working. It was harder than anything I'd done before, no joking, as I had immediate feedback on a dozen actions, and so many things to test out.