QuietValerie
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Kaia the Argent Wing Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2023-09-02 14:58:24 +0000 UTCI hit the ground with one knee and doubled over, shaking. Did it work? Did I change? The hand holding me up certainly looked different. My fingers were lean and strong, with short, well manicured nails. My arm was thicker than mine used to be, but not too much so. The difference was in the slight curve of muscle and the faint arm hair. Where I used to have thick, black hairs covering my arms, now you had to actually concentrate to even see I had any.
Using one hand, I gently brushed my perfectly tapering fingers down my arm, marvelling at the smooth skin. How long had it been since my skin was this smooth? Five years? Probably. It made sense that an angel boy would have soft skin, though.
The hand on my arm slowed and my pulse hit the stratosphere. I was a boy angel, right?
Faster than I’d ever moved in my life, I reached for the tee I was wearing and stared down at my chest. Boobs. I had boobs! Oh god, oh god, oh god. Why did I have boobs? I was a boy! I’d never once questioned my gender, so why did I have tits? They weren’t small either, they were pretty damn big. Not stupid looking, at least not from this angle, but there was no hiding these things without a binder.
Even worse, though, was the change in equipment downstairs. I could feel it missing. My dick was MIA.
Oh, this was not good. I couldn’t let anyone know who I was while I was transformed like this, and I just had to pray to… well, someone, that I’d get my normal body back once I was done. Sure, I knew that my friends at least paid lip-service to being chill with queer stuff, but the adults? This was semi-rural Kentucky. This was flag-waving, gun-totin’ Republican land. If monsters were going to start crawling up out of the ground and people were getting magical powers, then I sure as shit didn’t want to be seen as different. I was liable to get some preacher smiting me with literal holy fire while he pumped me full of lead with an AR15.
I didn't even want to be a girl anyway! This was all that angel's fault! She should've warned me about the potential for my dick to run away up into my body. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Surely there was a way for me to undo this. Magic supposedly existed now, after all. I could—
Something roared.
Freezing in place, I scanned my surroundings and crouched low. That caused something to flop around beside my head, and keeping a close eye on the other houses, I reached up to feel what it was. "It" felt my hand right back. I squealed in surprise and bolted upright, only for the husky femininity of my voice to send a whole cohort of butterflies spinning in my stomach.
Okay, voice was girly, that wasn't a surprise, but what the fuck was on my head? Whatever they were, I could move them. They were a part of me.
Knowing roughly where they were, I felt up their length to where they connected to my head. Aw, cock. I had some sort of fluffy, floppy ears instead of normal human ones. Wait, I was supposed to be an angel! Where were my wings?
Spinning in place, I tried to look behind myself, but all I got was a face full of wavy gunmetal silver hair. One small mercy, at least, was that the hair looked way more like shiny metal than old person hair.
Wait. I wonder if I was pretty…
I began running for the house before I'd even finished asking myself the question. I had to know if I was pretty. Plus, I could steal one of mum's sports bras and grab some shit to make a weapon. Hopefully my parents wouldn't mind if I stole a kitchen knife.
Marc.
Icy anxiety doused my enthusiasm while I vaulted through the open kitchen wall. My brother better live through all the crazy shit going on! Maybe I could go and find him, once Theprin was safe.
So much was happening. Too much. My parents were in the city centre, my brother was hundreds of miles away, I'd just been transformed into some sort of angel animal girl, and I was supposed to rush out the front door to save everyone I knew from monsters!
One thing at a time, Kai. Get the sports bra so your new titties don't flop around.
Rushing up the stairs, I bounded into my parent's room and made straight for the dresser. I put their laundry away sometimes, so I knew where to find things.
Pulling out the first bra I saw, a black one with an elastic netting around the bottom, I whipped off my tee and slipped my arms through the appropriate holes. Oh, damn. This thing was snug. Breathing took just a tiny bit more effort. Still, when I did a test jump, my boobs stayed mostly where they were supposed to be. Honestly, I was surprised that I even thought of finding a bra. Maybe my friends, the girl ones, had managed to impart the knowledge into my brain by association.
Either way, I now had to find a weapon, oh, and I should probably throw on a hoodie. Maybe one of my dad's ones, since my own were definitely not going to fit me.
Where did he keep them again—
The mirror on the standing wardrobe caught me off guard, and I slowed to a stop. So… I was definitely pretty. In fact, I was more than that. I had the sort of unattainable beauty that you only saw in photoshopped models. My face was perfectly, utterly symmetrical, with strong cheekbones, an artfully curving jaw, a cute but strong nose, and intense grey eyes. Then, of course, there were the ears. The bottoms of the ears started up in line with where you’d expect the top of human ears to be, but further back around my skull too. I think it was trying to find a middle ground between where they’re based on a human and where they’re based on a bunny. Oh crap, I was totally a bunny girl. At least my ears were nice and floppy and easily hidden in my hair.
Regardless of my ears, I think the mirror was magnetic somehow, because I drifted over to it and laid the tips of my fingers against it as if making sure it was real. For the first time in my life, I saw a version of myself that was undeniably good looking.
Laughing, I took a step back and watched as my gorgeous new face lit up. Ah! This was so weird! Amazing, too… goodness, it was amazing. I uh… wow.
A thought occurred to me, and I felt the butterfly grand prix in my tummy go absolutely mental. What were my friends going to think when this beautiful stranger came bounding down the street to save them? Oh, I actually couldn't wait! This might end up being fun, despite how morbid it would also end up being.
Ohh boy. Today was going to take a lot of mental effort to unpack.
After scavenging an old hoodie from my dad's dresser, I rushed back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Shit was strewn everywhere, but at least the knife block held onto the knives even if it ended up on its side. I picked the biggest, sharpest looking blade out of the lot and leapt out the hole in the wall again.
In the distance, I could hear screams now, along with more inhuman howls of rage. The clock was ticking.
The basement entrance was just around the side of the house, and using my new long and willowy legs, I made it there in record time. Taking the stairs down three at a time, I burst into the basement and grabbed the old broom from its cobwebbed nook at the bottom of the stairs. It was one of those junk heirloom items that was passed down from parent to child simply because it was useful. Today, though, it would find a new purpose as the haft of a spear.
Despite any neglect I could accuse my parents of, the one thing they always indulged me on was my desire for tools to fill the basement workshop. One side of the space was still storage, but the other held metal cabinets, rough wooden shelving, and a nice workbench with a large vice on one end and a smaller one on the other.
Grabbing the handle of the large vice, I unstuck it and then spun it around with one finger. Gosh, usually it took more effort than this to get it moving when it was tightened like that.
Once the new haft was secure with the sweepy part of the broom sticking out a little from the vice I grabbed a saw and quickly lopped it off. Hot damn, this body was really strong!
I wonder what my stats were…
As I focused on the inquiry, the mental impression of my system profile popped up. Huh. My class was different…
I got the impression that my Tinker class was still there, but greyed out and inside my new class somehow? Overriding it was my current womanly powerhouse class. When I focused on it, I got a barrage of sensations too dense to parse, and a name… Fallen Angel.
There was also a whole new section, plus another attribute in addition to strength and the rest, which all had an extra point in them now. The new attribute, on the other hand, gave me odd vibes when I focused on it. It felt almost like anger, but with the satisfaction of victory, the feeling of crunching something underfoot, and the balm of a soothing touch, all rolled into one. It confused the heck out of me, especially because it didn’t seem to have slots for an ability sphere thingy. Instead, it was just… there on its own?
There was another thing too, I could sense some sort of… power level that influenced everything else. Gah, all this mystical vibes and synesthetic impressions bullshit was so hard to figure out. Just give me a number!
Level One Fallen Angel.
Oh. Okay. Thanks, I guess? And… what about this whole other section of fuzzy vibes? What was that?
Abilities.
Right! Okay, so this was my magic. Let's see… alright, there were three little blobs of thought. The first was… an empowerment thing. I could imbue whatever attack I did with holy fire— no, not just holy fire. There was something else, something more sinister. Corrosion. I could corrode the very flesh of whatever I hit with that spell.
After interpreting the first ability, the second was easier to parse. I could touch someone or myself and heal any wound that wasn't infected with interfering magic. The third was… some sort of aura. I think it made my enemies weaker? It was harder to understand than the first two.
Oh, yeah, spear time. I'm sure this new storm order game system thing would throw more curveballs at me before long.
Making the spear wasn’t too difficult, since I had the tools and the hard part was making the tip anyway. The problem was, the best way I saw to fix the knife to the haft was to smash off the wooden handle of the knife with a hammer, until there was nothing but the metal remaining. Then, I flattened one side of the tip of the haft and screwed the bare metal tang onto it. For added durability, I wrapped it in a nice thick layer of duct tape. In the end, though, it wasn’t how a proper spear head would be fixed to a haft. The knife just didn’t have the socket thingy.
Ah, well. If my life was about to become a ridiculous facsimile of an rpg game, then it was nice to have room for improvement. Lots and lots of room… silver linings!
Spear in hand, I rushed back out of the basement and bounded out onto the street.
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