An Origin Story

by Dan Standing

5 – Identity

If she had been able to Pita would have stayed in her bed…well, forever. But the force she had felt the day before was insistent that she get up and dress. It seemed to skip over anything that wasn’t required to get her out the door on time – a shower and food were beyond her ability once Pita decided she wanted them. Once again her car seemed to drive itself, which was fine since the irresistible need between her legs was overwhelming her other brain functions. Despite being well aware of the futility Pita was gripped by a strange self-loathing for what she had wished upon herself, and since she already smelled of sex from the previous day her fingers slipped into her slit and proved to do nothing more than build her frustration through the drive.

At the pizza house Pita immediately locked herself in the supply closet. She couldn’t be fired, and since she didn’t know what she’d do to the first attractive man who answered the door for a delivery she wasn’t going anywhere until she got the call. When her shift ended she dragged herself to her car and went home.

Wherever she want she could not escape the snickers, taunts, anger, and stares from those around her. Her coworkers and Bingus openly mocked or reviled her. Those in her apartment building who had heard of her sudden tryst whispered behind her back at best and called her “home wrecker” or other names at worst. She dared not go back to the mall to face any lingering security issues. And all the social websites had descriptions, pictures, or even video of her actions thanks to everyone who had seen her.

She was in Hell. She’d had done something drastic if she hadn’t known the mysterious force shepherding her first wish wouldn’t have allowed it. For three days Pita went to work, came home, buried herself in her books and graphic novels, masturbated fruitlessly, slept, and repeated, just waiting for it all to end. And she avoided looking at her sexualized body in the mirror, thanks to all the trouble it had given her.

Finally the call came. She threw the pizza in the back of the car, and drove mechanically to Synthia’s enchanted abode. Pita didn’t even bother to retrieve the food as she marched up onto the porch, held the screen door in a death grip, and banged loudly on the closed wood.

“Yes, I’m right here, I-”

“Why did you turn me into a walking…” tears were streaming down Pita’s face and she couldn’t bring herself to say the word she meant, so she finished with, “…mind-controlling nympho?!”

Synthia had answered the door in black silk panties. Swirled whipped cream covered her nipples, slowly losing its shape and dripping from her nips down her areola to the curve of her breast. As Pita finished her question the genie’s face went stoic.

“The sexual coupling abilities you have been granted do not force anyone to have sex with you. Only those who you are attracted to, who have an equal attraction and willingness, will join with you.”

“So…my neighbor…he really would have cheated on his girlfriend with me? Without this magic?”

“Yes. If there are circumstances when the man would consummate a relationship with you the spell simply makes the mind accept those factors as fulfilled at the time of your need. All sexual partners have been willing. Even you.”

Pita thought about that for a moment, reflecting on her encounters, while Synthia regained her own mind.

“I’m sorry if anything that’s happened has been unpleasant for you, but if you’ll let go of the door for a moment we can discuss-”

“‘UNPLEASANT FOR ME?'” Pita exclaimed, shouting over Synthia’s forced affirmative reply, “I’ve been naked and fucking in public! Everyone I know mocks or hates me! I can’t let anyone see my face without risk of reprisal or uncontrolled sex, and I can’t even stand to look at it myself because of what you’ve done to me!”

Since the final part of Pita’s response was not a question Synthia was able to directly reply.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you any harm. Let me try and fix it with your last wish, if you’ll-”

“No, I already have my last wish,” Pita hissed, tightening her grip on the door, “It’s what I should have asked for from the beginning. My life was never that great. Now I have an even better reason to hide from it. So I wish the following was true; I will no longer be forced to have sex and I can please myself sexually with anything I choose and I am a superhero who will never be unmasked or have their secret identity recognized or revealed to or by anyone.”

Having finished her last wish Pita took a breath. She released the door and wiped the tears from her cheeks. As she looked up Synthia was just finishing her shudder, and Pita noticed a tingle in her own privates.

“There, the first part is done,” the genie muttered, motioning towards Pita’s crotch, “You can masturbate to orgasm whenever you like and are no longer compelled – and will no longer compel anyone – to have sex.”

“I…I’m still super horny, though,” Pita replied, squeezing her thighs. She felt the slickness in her slit press out a little as she did so, “Will that go away the next time I-”

“Go away?” Synthia laughed, shaking her head. One of the dollops of whipped cream had fully slid off her left nipple and she scooped it into her mouth with a couple fingers before continuing, “You never said anything about no longer being ready for a fuck at all times, so enjoy your perpetually prepared pussy.”

Pita snarled, but assured herself, “At least now I can – hey!”

The exclamation from the young woman had been from her clothing suddenly turning to dust. Shoes, pants, jacket, every stitch of cloth pulled away from her and started to hang in the air in a cloud surrounding Pita. She looked around herself in shock, her extraordinary body on full display.

“Now it’s time for your new life as a super hero,” Synthia smiled.

Pita watched in rapt attention as some of the dust took on a silver hue and floated towards her hips. Slowly it began to adhere to her skin, traveling down her legs towards her feet. It started to form a tough rubber shell that pulled her legs against themselves, putting tight pressure on her wet womanhood. As it did so Pita fell backwards with a yelp.

“What the Hell is happening?” Pita exclaimed from the porch, clawing at the seam where the top of the silver rubber met her skin in an breakable fusion. The material did not directly cover her pussy, instead forming a flat portion across her thighs that just barely hung over her lower lips. The material was not forming a tight pair of pants or leggings, it was actually sealing over her legs in one tight tube.

“Your costume is forming,” Synthia smiled, “I’ve read up on comic book characters and their origins. They often times receive their abilities through some sort of tragic twist in their personal history…”

Pita was barely listening to the explanation being given. She could feel her legs from the knees down go warm and start merging together, and then split again at her ankles. She watched, terrified, as she felt her feet curl and begin to form half-spheres. A small spindle was extending between them, and around that a thin silver wheel – of real metal – was slowly growing out. A slot formed along with it up Pita’s former calves, stopping as the wheel reached manhole size.

“I thought it right for you to be the only volunteer from a failed attempt at the ultimate restaurant mascot. Your powers result from that under-funded, over-successful project…”

The transforming woman wanted to scream as she realized her body from the hips down had become a human-sized pizza cutter. The large silver wheel between her reformed legs glinted in the light. The silver rubber ran along her hip bones, and dipped down deep below her naval to just inches from the top of her pussy, before continuing down. The rubber was so thick and rigid that her hands could barely push it in to brush her engorged labia.

“…which have made you the hero dubbed ‘Pizza Woman!'”

The dust particles turned red now, adhering over each breast. The rubber crossed over her back to connect the two rubber cups that now covered Pita’s bosom, which left her cleavage bare and accentuated her engorged nipples. Pita’s hands moved to her new top, finding the rubber to be stuck to her like a thick second skin. More particles formed a similarly adhered domino mask over her eyes.

“No! No! I can’t be…based on pizza!” Pita squealed. As a baseball cap with a stylized “PW” formed on her head, her hair pouring through the sizing band as a ponytail, her attention turned to a tingling in her right hand. A band of metal was forming around her wrist as her fingers took on a jointed and almost robotic look. Pita felt a strong pull between each of them, snapping her digits together into the diamond-esque shape of a pizza serving spatula. With effort she could separate them into a usable hand, but the moment she relaxed her metallic mitt reformed the flat spatula. While this was going on the last of the dust turned blue and shaped a glove around Pita’s remaining hand.

Exhaling rapidly as she tried to get a scream out, Pita felt something wash through her head. She had been terrified of how she was supposed to stand on her mutilated legs and single wheel, but now she felt as if she understood. She pushed against the wooden boards with her elbows and suddenly swung upright, nearly face-planting into Synthia’s cleavage if the genie hadn’t stopped her.

“Woah there, Pizza Woman, not on the first date,” Synthia grinned, gently pushing the flabbergasted heroine away from her. Limbs and breasts swung wildly as she fought to keep her balance.

“Don’t call me that! I’m…I’m…” the transformed woman tried to pull forth her name from her memory, but like a cat chasing a laser pointer it was as if every time she felt she had the information it slipped away. “Why can’t I remember my name? What have you done to me?”

“Just granted your wish,” Synthia replied, walking forward onto the porch, causing her wish-subject to roll backwards slightly. “You wished that you’d never be unmasked, and your civilian identity would never be revealed. Therefore I made your costume completely permanent. It cannot be removed or damaged. That meant the only way your identity could ever be revealed would be if you told someone, therefore all specific data about your past has been wiped from your mind…including your civilian name, Pizza Woman.”

Pizza Woman’s face reflected the horror in her mind. She indeed remembered all the humiliation she had suffered. Her parents. Her old life. But specific names, addresses, faces, anything that could be used to directly tie Pizza Woman to her old life was blotched out.

“How…how could you do this to me?” Pizza Woman cried. The cutting wheel had added a little more than a foot to her height, so she actually towered over the genie, “Why?”

“Why?” Synthia smirked, showing no intimidation from the taller woman, “Because my entire life has been dedicated to manipulation by humans. I just enjoy knowing every now and then that I can do the same back.”

And with that the genie gave a quick shove to Pizza Woman’s shoulders. Her instincts were now attuned to how to stay upright on the wheel, but she couldn’t stop herself from tipping over the porch steps. Pizza Woman shouted out as she rolled down onto the lawn, outside of the house’s spell. Once again the magic residence was just a glimmer that the former Pita could barely perceive.

For a moment Pizza Woman stood on the sidewalk completely lost in fits of crying. She couldn’t get in the car, let alone use it. Even if she could she did not recall where she lived or worked. Images and shadows of information passed through head, but Pizza Woman could find none of it to be of any use to her.

And the buzzing between her legs would not stop. She banged at the rubber with her hands. Pizza Woman could feel the need, the ache, building in her crotch with each strike, but all it did was further excite her loins. With her outfit as it was she would never know release again, or at least find barely any satisfaction from whatever she could muster.

Suddenly she heard a siren. A police car was heading somewhere, urgently. Pizza Woman’s tears dried as she realized that perhaps she could be of use.

Yes. Follow the cops. Help. Make a name for herself. Find a base of operations. It was all she could do now.

As her metal wheel cut across grass and she sped down along the asphalt of the road, it was all she had ever really wanted to do. She had started as Pizza Girl the joke, and would become Pizza Woman the hero. Deep inside she believed she could be happy with that.

Only time would tell.

For now, she had some Justice to deliver.

In thirty minutes or less.