Miranda lay in a heap on her mother's couch, defeated by exhaustion, her injuries, and the horrific idea of returning to anything resembling schoolwork. She fumbled for her water bottle, hands exploring as she tried to find it; her head was situated in the cushions rather firmly, and the black-haired beta neo refused to move more than she had to. Finally, her hand felt the smooth plastic, and she gripped its handle, dragging it across the table to her face. She groaned with effort; somehow, day two after the beating felt worse than day one.

Miranda's mother furnished the garage from Spring to Winter, and so, Miranda lay in it, on the couch against the faded wall. Above her, a clock read out that it was sometime in the afternoon – her mom had picked her up in the morning – and she expected Seth soon for their off-hours burger stop. She swore that every time she blinked, the clock skipped ahead another hour.

This must be what dying feels like. That's it, I'm dying. Hell, I should probably tell someone.

The twenty-three-year-old popped her water bottle's straw into her mouth, idly sipping, trying her best to engage the straw without moving at all. Her mother's cat, a long-haired Persian blue, yawned and stretched itself across the floor. Miranda watched, her eyes getting heavier by the moment. Ugh, She thought. Never watch a cat fall asleep.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. Miranda barely registered it, but she fumbled around in her bag anyway, drawing it forth and flipping it open.

Seth:

uii am hjhre.. syrry

Miranda frowned and cocked her head, rolling onto her back and typing a response.

Me:

What? You ok?

Moments later, Seth replied.

Seth:

o u t si ii de.

Miranda groaned with effort and leaned up, grabbing ahold of the back of the couch. She stretched widely, wincing as her body yelled at her in protest, and scooped up her water bottle, shaking it a bit to confirm its contents. The ravenette slid her feet into her flip-flops and opened the side door to the garage, humming a soft tune, and then promptly screamed and nearly through her bottle in shock.

A monster was standing in front of her garage. It was nearly nine feet tall, coated in tarnished metallic scales that glimmered in the autumn sun. Enormous, asymmetrical spines jutted from its neck and down its back, along a sweeping tail that curled along the ground behind it. The creature was slouched forward, making its ridiculous height even more unnerving, and it was corded with muscle. Each powerful arm ended in three claw-tipped fingers, and its mouth was elongated, like an alligator; two uneven horns jutted from the back of its head. Comically, it wore a torn lab coat, and even worse pair of jeans, and clutched a relatively small phone in its hand.

“Naturia,” Miranda swore, staring at the creature as it regarded her with its yellow eyes. “Is...Seth, is that you?”

“Yeah,” The creature mumbled. It sat down in the grass and frowned, prodding the soil with one of its long, dangerous-looking talons. “The cure...didn't work as advertised.” Seth replied in a deep, rumbling voice.

“You tested it on yourself?” Miranda inquired incredulously.

Seth rose and lowered an enormous shoulder. “Scientists always do that. Take Jonas Sulk, for instance. I guess there's a lot more variables than I thought...this isn't...permanent, I don't think. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt a lot.”

“Okay, but this isn't polio, this is the neo genes,” Miranda said cautiously, approaching her transformed best friend. “We know so little about them. You told me your work was barely in formula!” Seth nodded numbly. Miranda calmed herself down; Seth was clearly paying a heavy price already, he did not need to be told what he already knew. She sighed and walked over to the enormous lizard-like being sitting on her parents' lawn. Even sitting, he was nearly as tall as she was.

Miranda winced as she heard a scream from inside her house, followed by the sound of someone dropping what had probably been a flowerpot. “Relax, Mom! Seth just mutated himself further, it's all for science.”

“Science better not damage my goddamn lawn!” Amy Townsworth shrieked. She stuck her head out the front door, her very Miranda-like hair flying about. “Is he going to be like that forever?”

“You're so good at making things not worse, Mum. Love ya.” Miranda said quietly, shaking her head. Amy sighed in a combination of annoyance at Miranda's sarcasm and sympathy for Seth.

“Can I get you anything, Seth? A drink? A...very, very stiff drink?” Amy called out. Seth shifted, barely cracking a toothy smile.

“No, I'm ok. Thanks, Amy,” Seth grumbled. The older woman nodded, gave the creature one last apprehensive look, and slid back into her house. Miranda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and glanced at Seth again.

“I notice your stutter is gone,” Miranda said, trying to keep it positive. “So that's a thing.”

“I'd rather stutter and not be a baby Godzilla, I think,” Seth mumbled in his deep voice. Miranda laughed, and Seth cracked a real grin. “Dr. Cole is emailing me his notes, since I...I don't really fit through doors very well right now, and I don't need to be scaring people.”

“Cole's a great dude,” Miranda said, putting a hand on Seth's shoulder. “Come on, man. I'm paying for your burger today.” Seth rose to his full height, and Miranda instinctively backed up, a sympathetic, apologetic look on her face when she realized that she did. Seth scratched one of the spines jutting from his back.

“I don't think they're gonna want me in the store, Manda,” Seth said, frowning.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Then we eat outside. Come on.” She tugged on Seth's lab coat, and the two of them walked down the street, talking about anything other than Seth's condition, school, or work. Amy watched from her window with a sense of pride; Quentin Townsworth would have been proud to see his daughter be so instrumental in the life of someone else.

*** *** ***

There was nothing truly extraordinary about a hair dryer. They had appeared in their modern, handheld form around 1920, having been originally designed in 1890 by Alexander Godefroy, in France. Though this model was a bit more advanced, being the latest from a big-name beauty salon, it nevertheless functioned the same, was based upon the same principles, and therefore was not special or unusual in any way...except, perhaps, that it could be used to dry the hair of a doll.

It lay on a table, a piece of furniture so vast in comparison to it that if it were not being directly observed, one was likely to lose it. It was a fraction of the size of a proper hair dryer, but it worked – tiny circuits and all, or at least, it would if there was a suitably tiny outlet. It would snugly fit in the hand of a six-inch-tall doll, or an action figure, but it was no plastic duplicate – it was a real, functional piece of technology.

Two hands came up onto the table; human hands. They slid forward gently, and lithe, pale index fingers gently, timidly pinched the tiny hair dryer between two blood-red nails, with all the patience of a hunter stalking prey. A twist of crimson hair came up next, and then a single inquisitive, respectively enormous emerald iris. It studied the little hair dryer, curious beyond reason, and slowly the monstrous nails set the dryer down, and Kira Northvale rose to her full height, setting her wide hip onto the table and scribbling in a notepad.

“Subject Six-Five has been reduced to a twelfth of its original size. Again, no sign of wear, fatigue or any sort of negative response has been noticed in the body or mind of the neo human in question,” Kira said to herself as she wrote. “Laboratory equipment recommended to discover if cancer cells or other invisible dangers are caused by use of these powers.”

Kira slid her bottom back onto the table, arching her back. She wore a simple outfit today, but knowledge and power got her hot. She imagined how she might look to an outsider; curvacious, in her element, beautiful. Miranda would be lost; goddesses, she'd love it. These thoughts danced around in her mind, bringing an internal warmth to the redhead that was far different than what she'd had to get used to in the last couple months.

“Subjects Six-One through Six-Five have demonstrated full control over documented Neo Ability Six as stated by its originator. Ability Six can shrink inanimate objects up to a twelfth of their original size. Whether the limit of a twelfth is, in fact, part of Six's Amplification or Miranda's limit as well is yet to be seen,” Kira noted, talking away. “Objects built into a cohesive whole shrink as one. Though larger objects have not been tested, it is known that the originator has shrunk a car; it reasons to think I could as well.”

Kira's lips curled into a smirk as she flipped the page over and continued scribbling in her elegant font. “Subject Six-Six will be the first proper Amplification test,” The glorious redhead twirled around, her hair following suit, and she clicked her heels on the wood of her estate, deliberately swinging her hips arrogantly as she strutted down a hallway. “Nurala! Hasif, where are you?” She called out.

After a few moments of checking the various rooms of her spacious mansion, she found Hasif cleaning shelves in one of the estate's reading suites, and when his eyes met Kira's, the middle-eastern man dropped the rag he was carrying and seemed to melt under her gaze. He stumbled forward, falling to his hands and knees; Kira watched his progress with an amused smirk as he crawled his way to her, faintly grasping her leather boots. His breath was heavy, and he looked up at the towering redhead through exhausted eyes.

“G-Goddess,” Hasif choked. “What i-is...this...sorcery?”

“Do you remember when we met, Hasif? You saw me at a bar, playing the piano. What was I wearing?” Kira asked, pouring herself a glass of brandy that was sitting on a nearby desk. Hasif reached out for her presence, but failing to receive it, collapsed against a wall, shivering as though half-buried in ice.

“D-Dress,” Orion stuttered. “Red...red dress. Color of your hair. B-Black...black, opaque...stockings. Sultriest thing I've...I've ever...”

“Relax, Mr. Nurala,” Kira cooed. “Please continue.”

“Red h-hair, shiny. Eyes, so...so, so green. Pale b-beauty in...in its finest. Bought you a drink...” Hasif mumbled. Kira slid open the cabinet, inspecting her father's collection of horse riding crops. She turned one over in her hand, admiring the grip and the make, and slid the end under Hasif's chin, pointing his tired gaze up at the overpowering redhead.

“Indeed you did,” Kira practically moaned. “You then said I was enchanting, beautiful, glorious and powerful, that I could handle a fiery passion. I was entranced. How could I not be? You are Orion...world-famous, powerful, immortal. An alpha neo, one of the very few.” Despite his broken condition, Orion swelled with pride, briefly remembering himself before slipping back into his stupor. “You took me with you, and then you took me,” Kira said, baring her teeth at the thrill of the memory. “I bit you.”

“Y-yes. Drew blood. Used m-me...to stifle a scream.” Hasif mumbled, collapsing further against the wall.

Kira finished the brandy and sighed, drumming her fingers on the desk. She poured another serving. “Two days later, my latest powers manifest. The hotel I am watching my father speak in violently explodes. The fire burns hotter than the sun and incinerates the town. Hundreds dead, my father included,” Kira said, gripping the glass. The brandy hissed and bubbled as it boiled in her hand. Orion's eyes slowly widened, watching the girl's anger build. “And then last night, I hear the FBI discovered your DNA in Hotel Siracco. But you weren't there. I was.”

A paper on Kira's desk caught fire, curling inward. Kira's clothing remained untouched, but around her, the carpet singed, the desk charred and Orion backed away from the infernal heat raging from her.

“YOU DID THIS TO ME!” Kira screamed at him, nearly hysterical. She threw the glass of boiling brandy against the wall; it shattered into pieces. “I remember your fucking words, Nurala – 'I'm going to give my fire to you' – well, you did. Congratu-fucking-lations. It was there when you left, and when it...when I...Amplified it...you killed my father and everyone I'd ever met in this goddamn country.”

“Goddess,” Nurala said, sweating from the heat, bowing to Kira. “Please f-forgive--”

“The fucked-up thing is, you made me realize what was going on – you made me finally get it. I'd theorized, but how exactly do I test something like this...?” Kira said, more to herself than Hasif. “Miranda confirmed it. That's how this all works...”

“Goddess?” Orion asked cautiously.

“Shh, shh. I'm going to explain everything...but we need to give you a new name. Nurala, pay attention.” Kira whispered. Nurala felt cold again; weak, dizzy. He stared up at Kira, seeing this enchanting redhead, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Distant sounds, like drops in a forest through a wall, echoed in his ears; the scent of campfires, of desert nights, and of lilies sifted through his nose. All in the world was Kira, and Kira was all there was. “You are Subject Six-Six.”

“I am Subject Six-Six, my Goddess Kira,” Orion mumbled, lost.

Kira placed a searing hot palm on Hasif's chest, and the man did not scream. Tears leaked from his eyes, and his mouth opened as though to scream, but no sound came out. There was no time to. In the time it took for light to travel a second, Hasif Nurala was changed, shrunken down to a twelfth of his original size. Kira's green eyes widened; her breath caught in her chest. She slowly pulled out the notepad, trembling as its edges burned dangerously. She concentrated on calming herself down, maintaining her literal cool.

“Subject Six-Six,” Kira breathed, staring down at the horrified, tiny man. “Amplification test...successful. Amplification...forces powers to work on living subjects. Humans, even alpha-level neo humans, included...” A barely audible, terrified voice touched Kira's ears, and the redhead grinned down at Hasif Nurala. “Oh, Mister Orion! It worked. That is, my theory was correct!”

Kira squatted down, observing the little man as he screamed and cried, begging inaudibly for mercy. Kira poked him with one of her long fingers, and he stumbled backwards, causing a laugh from the enormous redhead. Kira's hand reached out for him, and though he screamed and pleaded, she caught him in her grip and stood up, leaning against the desk. Slowly, she turned her hands and dropped him into one another, tossing him between her fingers and rolling him around in her palm.

“Further...testing...is required,” Kira moaned, biting her lip excitedly. Whatever this was, it spoke deeply to the dominant girl. “Limits...need to be tested. Loose ends...need to be tied up.”

“Goddess Kira! P-Please!” Hasif groaned, his body fully exhausted as she rolled him around. He was closing his eyes, gritting his teeth; the fire would come at any moment.

“You once asked me,” Kira began huskily, letting her tongue slide across her lips. “Why...why I was interested in an old man. Let me tell you something, Hasif – I am interested in two things in people, two things...unfamiliar power, and complete submission – willing submission,” Kira breathed, her hot breath practically scalding the little man. “You now fit in neither category.” Kira slowly unbuttoned her jeans, grinning widely as she slid them down her ample hips. Nurala's breath caught in his chest and he stumbled backwards.

“Sorry,” Kira said, her teeth bared, her expression as far from apology as possible, “But this is REALLY hot,” She dumped Hasif onto the floor, giggling maliciously as he lay there, broken. “Subject Six-Six is not invulnerable. Falls from the height of a normal person's grip results in severe injury.”

Orion rose his hands, and desperately, he tried to call his flames to him – and so, they sprung to life. His eyes widened; how had he done that? He'd lost his powers when Kira had taken...no, she hadn't taken them, she'd copied...but...he remembered! He remembered the knowledge that she'd taken them away...but now, that memory was fading like a dream in the light of reality. As he stared at the fires in his hands, he was barely aware of Kira's long fingers slipping between her legs, under her silky panties, and of her enormous, pale, wrinkled sole rising from its leather prison, dripping with sweat and vicious intent.

“You're confused,” Kira growled, gasping as her finger slipped into her waiting cunt. “Allow me to explain. My first power is pheromones. It's to your credit that you weren't a gibbering wreck every time you saw me. You fall for my spell, I can make you believe anything.” Kira moaned, closing her eyes to her masturbation. With a savage grin, Kira brought her foot down, shattering Hasif's legs as he tried to dive for cover. Animal shrieks reached Kira's ears, and she felt her fingers get overwhelmed by her own juices.

“You know, if you stayed the fuck still, you'd only be DEAD, not tortured!” Kira snarled. She gasped, leaning forward and rolling the ball of her foot over Orion. She placed all her weight there, arching her foot upward, and crushed the little man into the carpet of the reading suite. His death scream echoed in Kira's ears, his little body shattering under her prodigious weight. Her eyes snapped open, green and fiery, and her fingers plunged in to the knuckle. Kira cried out, arching and sliding against the wall, wriggling her toes in the bloody mess as she came, hard, hot, and fast.

It took her a full minute to come down. She extracted her finger, watching in half-lidded mirth as the juices on her finger evaporated to the flame within her. She gulped, smoothing out her shirt, and picked up the notepad, trembling. “Subject Six-Six...” She began, panting. “Terminated...upon successful...experiment. More...gods...more subjects required for further testing.”