Just as quickly as the basement flared up with a blinding white light, it returned to an oppressive blackness. Silence once again filled the home, and it remained that way for nearly an hour, when the sound of rustling echoed throughout the basement. The noise came from none other than Abi, who let out a gradual moan as she attempted to lift herself off of the dust-covered concrete floor. With a sense of uneasiness filling her body, she grabbed onto a nearby wall for support and began making her way to the stairs. The light of the den beaconed her to rise up from the dark recesses she resided within.
It was a simple enough task, yet as Abi placed one foot in front of another, she felt a sense of heaviness throughout her body. As if her every motion were exaggerated, and her sense of space had been rendered askew. Nevertheless, she managed to ascend the staircase and freed herself from the darkness. Her eyes fluttered as she adapted to the brightness of the overhead light, before letting out a hearty sigh.
“Alright, I don’t see mister policeman, so I guess I’m okay,” Abi said before taking a hand to her throat and barking up a cough.
Her voice did not resonate properly as she spoke, and her eyes gravitated to her outstretched hand, bringing it closer to her face. The skin was the same dark tone she always knew, but her hands appeared to be more slender and bigger overall. She hemmed and hawed over both of them, wondering if something was amiss or if she was just remembering her own body wrongly. But then she looked past herself and took in her surroundings, which all looked different than before. She mostly just glanced at the surroundings prior to this, but after revisiting the kitchen, she realized that either everything had gotten smaller or she had gotten bigger.
Curious about this revelation, Abi wandered around the ground floor before making her way to the bathroom, and proceeded to look at the cracked mirror. Though the reflection was made up of disconnected fragments that failed to give her a complete picture, she was still able to piece together what happened based on these snippets. Somehow, in the hour she spent unconscious in the basement her body developed from that of a prepubescent girl to a postpubescent woman. Looking back at herself and taking in her smooth mature visage, she murmured to herself, saying that the “pretty lady” in the mirror was actually her.
“Holy mackerel! How did this happen?” Abi exclaimed with a childish fervor unbecoming of the adult she appeared to be. “Wait, is it because I wished that I didn’t need to be around my stupid parents again? ‘Cos if I’m an adult, that means I don’t gotta listen to them… or anybody else! Fart yeah!”
Her cries of excitement only encouraged Abi to further investigate her more mature body, which she naturally began doing by examining herself below the head, finding her form encompassed in a female police officer’s uniform along with a stylish, if off-season, purple scarf. Her formerly short hair had become flowing, encompassing her shoulder in thick black strands that neatly framed her face. She possessed an idyllic visage that deserved to be in print and film, yet Abi wore it like a child, her expression of whimsy and awe contorting her features into something that was arguably an injustice to her ‘natural womanly beauty.’
The body beneath the head was of similar quality, being a slender yet somewhat toned physique that boasted assets that went to further her allure. Being so young, she did not understand much of the purpose behind the DD-cup breasts she now sported, or why her rump looked, as she phrased it, “like it got stung by a whole hive of bumbled bees.” As she did a few jumping jacks and began to poke and prod her various parts, Abi’s overall impression of her new form leaned on the positive side. But shortly after affirming that all her parts were in order, at least as far as she could tell without stripping herself, she began hearing a murmur. A murmur that did not necessarily come from anywhere as far as she could tell, nor did it register itself through her ears.
Instead, this muffled voice originated from the confines of her own head, and it sounded positively… cartoonish. It was an exaggerated voice that sounded as if it came from an amateur voice actress portraying a young boy. And in some ways, it mirrored Abi’s new voice. Both sounded like women portraying juvenile characters, but whereas Abi’s new voice consisted of honeyed tones distorted by a childish inflection and lisp, the other sounded shrill and exaggerated, while retaining the cadence expected of an adult.
“Hm? Who’s there? I’m sorry I ate your pig, but I was hungry. I hadn’t had any meal to eat since yesterday for crying out loud!”
“—Ey… you… me?” The unseen voice chimed, “Te… Testing. Testing, gimme a one, a two, a three, a four, a five, six, nine, ten!”
“That’s not how numbers work, mystery voice. It’s six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Are you a stupid or something!?”
“I was not counting, I was just voicing off numbers to make sure that you could hear me, and, clearly, you can! Now then, seeing as how I will be spending the remainder of this engagement with you, I may as well introduce myself. My name is Peatrice the Deleter!”
“Beet-rice? I don’t really like beets… Why’d you name yourself after food… And where are you? I feel like I can hear you, but I don’t hear you with my ears.”
“It’s Peat-rice. Peet-rice. With a P, as in Peter, potato, and pushy. Though, I guess it doesn’t really matter what you call me. And for your information— Abi was it— the reason why my voice may sound a trifle bit queer is because I am communicating directly to your brain.”
“Eh? How’d you get into my brain, Miss Peaty?”
“First off, I’m not a female. I know I don’t sound the most masculine right now, but I am a male, 100%. Secondly, I know you’re still a kid behind those sexy gams, so I’ll just keep it simple for you: Your world is being attacked by some great evil whosits with a soul that has been shielded away from light, and permitted to stew and rot over the span of several years, birthing what we refer to as a Black Soul. They’re one dangerous mamajama who needs to get got, or as my title so aptly describes it, Deleted. ‘Cept I couldn’t do much on account of lacking any physical form to call my own. At least in this realm. So instead, I transferred my consciousness to the last place this Black Soul chap was, and looked for a body I could nab.”
“I didn’t find squat until some spy little kid named Abi wandered into my grasp, so I tried to snag her body for myself. But then this cop came barging in, sticking his… fireman into my plans. Some nonsense musta happened with my mind jacking whatsit, and, basically, everything went to the doo-doo. In short, the policeman got turned into bio-goop that your body absorbed, transforming you into a hot babe. I was supposed to be put into control of your body, but now you, the kid, are prancing about in the body of an adult, because probability hates my guts or whatever. Meanwhile, I’m slumming it, possessing a transformed scarf that used to be some musty old basement rag… or some rubbish like that.”
Peatrice then paused to move around Abi’s scarf, having it flail around in the air momentarily and temporarily unravel itself before comfortably returning to Abi’s neck. This display would have instilled a modicum of awe in her normally, but mid-explanation, Abi was simply looking out into space, doe-eyed, trying to take in Peatrice’s elaborate explanation.
“Anyhow, now you get the adult body with enhanced strength, speed, and other assorted powers I’ll walk you through. But first thing is that we need to find this Black Soul. Bottom line is that I’ll be calling the shots, and you’ll be my hands. It shouldn’t be too hard though. I’m something of an ace when it comes to this, and if anything, this challenge will make things a heckuva lot more fun. So, whaddaya say kiddo? Youse ready to stop copping your goods and fight for your planet?
“…What?” Abi barked in response to Peatrice’s prolonged story.
“…Right, right, I’m talking to a kid… I remembered that long enough to censor myself, but not simplify my story? I really must be getting rusty. The gist is that there’s a big bad trying to destroy the world, and you have been chosen to stop the evil thingamabob known as Black Soul. Are you a bad enough dudette to become a real-life superhero and save the day?”
“So,” Abi began, looking down at her scarf, “not only is Abi all grown-up, but she’s also a superhero? This is the BEST DAY EVER!!! Thank you Mister Peaty, you magic scarf!” Abi said before she attempted to hug the scarf that adorned her neck, which looked more like she was simultaneously feeling herself up and choking herself.
“Hey, save the thanks for later, toots! We’ve got a world to save and a dastard to get dead!”
“Wait! …If Abi is gonna be the hero, can she get a cool hero costume?”
“A costume? Well, something like that would only take a sliver of my power, so I don’t see why not. Whaddaya fancy?”
“I wanna look like my Nippon hero toy! The Super Guy!”
“…You’re gonna have to be a lot more specific, Abi.”
“Um, he has all this silver over him, and black too… but I guess if we’re fighting a black guy maybe we shouldn’t be black ourselves… I like green, so make me all silvery and green! With a silver chest, silver arms, and silver boots! But no helmet! I already gots my secret identity and hats make my hair all messy!”
“…Sure kid, let me whip something up for you.”
Following that decree, Peatrice’s scarfy form began to shine with an intense radiance that blinded Abi once more, causing her to yelp as her vision was lost. By the time the light receded and the stars in her eyes stopped flickering, she looked down at her person and saw her adult form wrapped in a skin-tight green jumpsuit with accompanying silver boots, gauntlets, and chest piece that also functioned as a cushion for her already ample breasts.
“Fart yeahs! I bet I look awesome now! And with a spiffy new outfit, Abi is now ready to save the world from the deva-ma-station!”
Abi then dashed across the house, chanting the word “woosh” as she zoomed around in circles, clearly impressed by her newfound speed and size, allowing her to easily run at over 30 kilometers an hour. But not one to dawdle when there is adventure afoot, Abi soon ran out of the residence, and encountered the police car of the deceased officer Kikansky, inspiring Peatrice to speak up once more.
“Aight, if we’s gun be searching for this Black Soul fellow, we’re going to need a mode of transportation, and you should have the keys to this car in your right pocket.”
Abi immediately thrust her silver-coated hand into her spandex suit, and ran it through an opening that, as Peatrice said, contained a pair of keys. But as Abi looked over the car and then down at herself, she developed a forlorn expression.
“Can’t I ride a motorcycle? The hero guy came with a motorcycle, and it looked super cool!”
Peatrice pondered her suggestion for a moment, recognizing their surroundings as very rural, meaning that there may be some merit to using a vehicle that takes up less space than a proper car… albeit at the cost of an increased possibility of crashes and unwanted falls. Still, recognizing this situation for what it was, Peatrice did not argue against Abi, and appeased her to avoid the joy of arguing with a 7-year-old.
“Eh, you’re not making this easy for me, but sure, I’ll play along. Get near the car, and I’ll see what I can do ya for.”
After having seen firsthand the amazing descriptive powers of Abi, Peatrice chose to take the easier way out and instead attempt to delve into Abi’s brain in search for her idealized design… which was that of a contemporary police motorcycle with a protective front and a somewhat bulky, yet reliable, design. Using their scarfy form, Peatrice clenched the car’s body, once more channeling an intense light as the metal bent, shrunk, and reshaped itself based on the image from Abi’s mind, eventually becoming a near-exact replica of the vehicle accessory that her little hero toy came with.
As the light receded, Abi gasped in delight at the gift before her, with successive squeals of joy popping up as she began examining the motorcycle in great detail. She knew nothing of how vehicles functioned, but the very idea of a realistic fully-functional rendition of her toy was more than enough to leave her giddy.
“Oh my goodness Peaty! You the super best-est! I love ya!”
“D’aw, it really wasn’t anything. But you know what would really show me that you love me? If you let me drive this thing, since, no offense Abi, but I can probably drive better than you can.”
“Hmph! If this is about the time I broke my trike, it’s not ‘cos I was a bad driver, it’s ‘cos Yuka’s a poop-face who threw my trike into the street! I didn’t do anything wrong, but no, apparently I can’t be trusted with a bike! Bah!”
“Abi, I literally met you 10 minutes ago, so I have absolutely zero idea what you’re talking about. I just mean that you don’t have your driver’s license or anything and probably never rode on a motorcycle before.”
“I really wanted to, but my dummy-dumb parents said it was too dangerous… so I guess I haven’t.”
“And I have. So you know what that means? Plant your juicy booty on that there leather and get ready to go on the greatest ride of your life, Peatrice Style!”
Following that overly dramatic spiel, Abi planted her fanny in the motorcycle’s seat as requested, while Peatrice snagged the key from Abi’s pocket and thrust it into the ignition. With the purr of the engine palpable, the two zoomed off into the woods, swiftly and recklessly making their way down an overgrown trail. The sounds of the motorcycle traveled throughout the heart of the woods as the two stormed on, its volume suppressing not only Abi’s relentless cheers, but also the sounds of approaching police sirens.
