Editing Reality Book One: Naughty Fantasies Created
Chapter 1: Chapter One: Creating a Hottie
You summoned me, Most High?
Yes. Long have I been studying the Earth and... A malaise has settled upon me. A certain... boredom.
Boredom, Most High?
We need a game. A mortal... given free will.
A dangerous thing, Most High.
An interesting thing. How shall the mortal use their freedom?
I, of course, do not know, Most High. Isn’t that the paradox of it? The... unpredictability of it.
The entertainment of it.
Certainly, the Divine Council will enjoy witnessing this game, Most High. Who shall administrate it?
Anael, I think.
Ah, it’s to be that sort of game, Most High. Yes, yes, the Divine Council shall enjoy this greatly. Whom shall she choose?
Leave that to Anael. Her essence will guide her to the perfect mortal for our entertainment.
My phone beeped, startling me awake. My eyes popped open and stared at the alarm clock on my nightstand. The red, digital numerals showed I didn’t have to wake up just yet. I could sleep for just another fifteen minutes.
I groaned, my eyes feeling heavy. I shifted in my bed. My wife wasn’t in bed beside me. A light leaked through the door to our bathroom. I heard the faint hiss of the shower running. She normally didn’t get up before me. I blinked, rolling over onto my back, struggling to remember why she would be up so early.
She had a flight. I blinked groggy eyes, wanting to drift back into sleep, but my thoughts were circling the fact my wife would be gone for the weekend, visiting her friend from college. She did it four times a year. I enjoyed these free weekends. I got to enjoy a more... relaxed time—there wasn’t a list of chores for me to do—and she was always so affectionate when she returned.
The sex was always at its best.
I closed my eyes. The sound of the shower hissed louder. Though my eyes were tired, I couldn’t drift back to sleep. I felt wide awake. I drew in a deep breath. I didn’t have to get up just yet. I could sleep another...
I glanced at the clock.
Another ten minutes.
I sighed, staring at the digits. It wasn’t happening. Sleep wasn’t coming. I could feel it. I would just lie here, struggling to find it and not quite getting there. Worse, my bladder was full, that slow demand becoming more and more incessant with every moment.
Grunting, I kicked off the sheets and rolled out of bed. I blinked bleary eyes as my feet made contact with the carpet of the floor. I stood up and stretched, my back aching ever so slightly. I padded to the bathroom in my boxer shorts. I opened the door, a cloud of steam washing over me.
“Morning, Linda,” I said as I entered the warm haze.
“Good morning, honey,” Linda answered, her voice brimming with excitement.
She was a beige blur through the glass door of our shower. It was separated from our hot tub style bathtub. We had a large master bath, remodeled several years ago when we refinanced our house and took out a second mortgage.
“Excited for your flight?” I asked as I reached the toilet. I pulled out my cock, staring down at my dick thrusting from my dark-brown pubic hair.
“Yes,” she said, her voice husky. “I can’t wait to see Marissa. We’re going to see Penn & Teller.”
“I bet that’ll be fun,” I said as I relaxed my bladder.
We’d been married for twenty-two years, college sweethearts. Peeing around each other had long been something we’d grown used to doing. I groaned as it flowed out of me. I shuddered, my body tingling as it flowed out of me. There was nothing like a morning piss.
Only a morning blowjob topped it. I’d be getting one of those when Linda came back. She hated sucking my cock, except after returning from her trip with her friend when she was always at her most sexually adventurous.
“It’s going to be an amazing trip,” Linda said, the water turning off.
As I finished peeing, the shower door slid open. I glanced at her naked body as she stepped out. She kept herself in trim shape. At forty-three, she was looking amazing for a woman who had three children. Her large, pillowy breasts swayed as she stepped out onto the bathmat. Water ran across her dark-red nipples, both hard. My eyes flicked down her body, drinking in the sight of her curving hips, the brassy-brown bush standing out against her pale skin. She wore a smile, her green eyes twinkling. She pulled off her shower cap, her brassy hair spilling down her shoulder.
She hugged me, her naked body pressing against me, soaking me as she nuzzled against me. She was feeling frisky, her body squirming against me. Her lips found mine, hot and sweet. I gripped her ass, squeezing her plump butt-cheeks. My dick ached against her. She worked the front of my boxers.
I didn’t care.
She broke away from me. “Whoops, someone’s getting excited.”
“Yeah,” I panted, my heart thudding in my chest. I stroked up and down her rump.
“Oh, no, none of that,” she said. “Sorry, I need to get ready. I just couldn’t resist you. Mmm, you are looking good.”
I smiled. My wife had convinced me to start working out more, and I had shed a good twenty pounds. I hadn’t been this weight since my twenties. Her hands slid across my chest, feeling my pecs before she broke away from me.
“You are such a tease,” I groaned. “You’re going away for the weekend and leaving me like this.”
“I just want you affectionate when I return,” she said as she snagged a mauve towel. She rubbed it across her body, massaging those lush tits.
“Not afraid of sending me off to teach like this?” I asked.
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you creeping on those college girls you’re teaching?”
“I might if you leave me like this,” I groaned. I taught at Rainier Christian College, a private university. “Some of those girls are very un-Christian.”
“Mmm, I always had a thing for my sexy, male professors when I was that age,” she said, pulling out her makeup bag. “Maybe I should be worried.” She winked at me. “But... I have a plane to catch, so I’ll just have to risk it.”
“You are a cruel woman,” I groaned, my dick so hard as I opened the medicine cabinet above my sink (we had two of them). I snagged toothpaste and my toothbrush.
“I know,” she said, giving me a smile. “Trust me, I will make it up to you when I get back.”
I brushed my teeth then hopped into the shower. The alarm clock went off, beeping with those annoying tones. My wife sighed and scurried out to take care of it. I let the water wash over me. I took my time showering. The hot water heater was extra-strength. With three children, two of them girls, I wanted to make sure we had all the hot water in the world.
My wife was still putting on her makeup when I slipped out. I dried and dressed. She came out just as I was about to leave. She headed to her suitcase, slipped in a plastic bag full of her makeup into it, then zipped it up.
I headed downstairs, my house bustling as my children were getting up. I passed our son’s door and pounded on it. “Time to get up, James. Put down the pencil and come down for breakfast.”
I heard a youthful grunt.
I headed down stairs two at a time, my khaki slacks whisking together. I was tucking in my shirt as I went, my tie loose around my neck. I wouldn’t tighten it until I got to work. I hated wearing it, but Rainier Christian had a uniform for everyone involved, professors and other staff having to dress like they were going to church.
My eldest daughter Becky sat that the breakfast table, the twenty-year-old studying a textbook, her face pale, her auburn hair gathered in a braid. She was a busty girl, like her mother, though she hid it by wearing a blouse one or two sizes bigger than she needed. It was a white top, like all the girls wore at Rainier Christian, a gray sweater vest over it. Her skirt would be a matching gray, worn longer than most of the girls at the college. If I could see her legs, they’d be clad in pantyhose. She liked to dress old-fashion, a shy child.
“Hey, pumpkin,” I said.
She looked up at me and gave me a smile. Her green eyes shone. I still wasn’t used to her wearing contacts. She’d worn glasses since she was in the fourth grade. “Hey, Dad.”
“Ready for the weekend?”
“Maybe with Tonya,” she said. “But I have an English paper to write.”
I rolled my eyes. “You haven’t finished it?”
“I got half of it written,” she said as she closed the book.
I started breakfast, simple fried bacon and scrambled eggs. Normally, Linda did it. She was a mostly stay-at-home mom these days, only volunteering at Rainier Free Clinic a few days a week as a nurse to give herself something to do. With her trip, I could handle cooking.
“Daddy!” my youngest daughter squealed.
Eighteen-year-old Sam barreled into the kitchen, a skinny girl as tall as her brother. Her short, red hair bounced about her mischievous face as she darted towards me. I turned as she threw her arms around my neck. She was a daddy’s girl, always hanging around me.
As she came in for a kiss, my phone beeped in my pocket. The sound made my head turn just an inch. Her lips, instead of landing on my cheek, planted on my mouth. I blinked at the flare of heat shooting through me. My cock, still half-hard from my wife’s sultry kiss, went full mast as my daughter pressed against me in her school uniform. Sam didn’t immediately pull away, her lips lingering as my mind screamed at me that this had to stop.
Then she darted away. “Whoops, Daddy! I hope Mom didn’t see that. She’d be jealous.”
She broke away from me, a big grin on her face. She glanced over at Becky at the table. My eldest daughter cheeks were tinged red. She was staring down at her textbook, squirming. I blinked, my blood boiling. I stared at Sam as she broke away. She was slender, wearing her white blouse tucked into a pair of gray slacks that hugged her body. Girls were recently allowed to wear pants instead of skirts as part of the uniform.
Sam hated wearing pants.
“So, we’re gonna work on the car tomorrow, right?” she asked as she darted to the table. I couldn’t help noticing how tight those pants were. They molded to her eighteen-year-old rump. A girl her age shouldn’t have a rump that nice. I swallowed, my heart pounding. I shouldn’t be looking at my daughter this way.
“Yeah,” I said. We were rebuilding a 1969 Chevrolet Impala, the second car we’d rebuilt together. The last, a 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air, we sold to finance our current project. It was fun working with my daughter.
I went back to scrambling eggs, shaking my head. Her lips tasted like strawberries. I licked mine, my dick so hard. I casually adjusted my cock in my slacks and boxers, hoping my daughters didn’t notice. Especially not Sam.
My youngest giggled.
Cheeks burning, I glanced at her, but she was staring at her phone, fingers typing away. Becky was focused on her book. I sighed in relief. Having two daughters sometimes made me aware of their youthful beauty, and my body responded.
My wife swept into the room and let out a peal of laughter.
“What?” I asked as I dished scrambled eggs onto a large platter.
She hugged me from behind, her arms sweeping around. She brushed my cock and whispered “That’s what I thought. Perving on our daughters.”
“What?” I spluttered.
“Your shoulders are always so tight,” she whispered.
“Eww, don’t do that, Mom,” Sam snapped. “We’re right here.”
My cheeks burned more as my wife pulled away from me. “Pants again?”
“Pants again,” Sam said.
“Aren’t you afraid someone will mistake you for a boy?” my wife asked as she headed to the table wearing a light dress with a scoop neckline.
“I’m too cute to be a boy,” she said, her head lifted high. “Don’t I look cute in these pants, Daddy?”
“Don’t drag me into this,” I said as I brought the platters of eggs and bacon to the table.
“Yep, I’m cute,” Sam said, a big grin on her face.
My wife’s face tightened. I set the platter in the center. Sam grabbed the spoon and began gathering her eggs, squirming in her chair. My eldest looked up from her book at me. She met my eyes for a moment then they darted down again.
Linda glanced at the ceiling before asking, “Did you tell James to come downstairs?”
“Yeah,” I said, my stomach growling. I knew that tone in my wife’s voice. It was a honey-do voice. “I’ll go get him.”
I hurried to the stairs, taking them fast. I reached my son’s door and knocked hard on it. “Stop drawing, son, and come down for breakfast.”
“Just finishing up this drawing,” he muttered.
“Your girls can wait,” I said.
“Dad!” he groaned.
I grinned. I knew he was drawing naked girls. He had this comic of his. He showed us the non-naked versions of his two Japanime girls. He was a great artist, but he just needed to get some maturity. Well, if I was nineteen, I’d probably be spending as much time drawing cute girls, too.
“Come on,” I said, knocking again. “You have the entire weekend to draw them.”
“Fine,” he muttered. Papers rustled then a chair slid. The door opened and he appeared, his dress shirt untucked, his gray tie loose about his neck, like mine. He wore pants similar to Sam’s, only his weren’t so tight. He had dark-brown hair, looking like a bird’s nest, and silver-glasses on his serious face.
“You studied for Mr. Miller’s test?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know all about logic gates. I’ll be fine.”
I nodded my head as we ventured down the stairs to breakfast. Sam was digging into her eggs while Becky picked at hers. My wife had a smile on her face, her fingers typing at her phone. She looked up at me, a twinkle in her green eyes as she slipped it back into her purse.
“There’s my young man,” she said. “I see you forgot the comb again.”
James shrugged and sat down, pushing up his glasses with one hand. I took my place at the head of the table. I said grace quickly, Sam pausing in her feast to be quiet while I said a few words of thanks to God.
Then I joined my family.
Breakfast passed quickly, Sam talking about the car, “I think we’re going to get the carburetor done quickly.”
I nodded my head in agreement.
My wife kept glancing at Becky, giving our eldest daughter a studious look. Then Linda glanced at her phone again and sighed. She finished off her bacon and carried her plate over to the sink, saying, “I need to get going. The Uber driver’s here and traffic’s going to be a nightmare getting to SeaTac.”
“You’ll make it,” I said. “I’ll get your suitcase.”
She smiled at me.
I hefted her luggage, loaded with more clothes than I thought she needed for a three day trip. She led the way. She opened the front door, her hips swaying as she marched out to the ride-share car driving her to the airport, a dark-gray sedan. The driver, a young man in skinny jeans and a glasses, was playing around on his phone as he waited.
“I’m worried about Becky,” she said.
“Becky?” I asked, frowning as we walked down the red-brick walkway that curved around the garage and headed to the driveway. “Why?”
“I think she’s too close to her friend.”
I blinked at my wife. “Too close to Tonya?”
My wife nodded her head. “Becky’s twenty, and she’s never had a boyfriend. She spends all her free time with Tonya if she’s not studying.”
“She’s just shy,” I said. “What are you saying, that you think our daughter’s gay?”
“Yes,” my wife said. “Or she might think she is. Girls are under a lot of pressure these days. Everyone’s making them think it’s okay to be a lesbian. It can confuse a shy girl like our daughter.”
“She’s not gay,” I said. “You’re just worried. She and Tonya are just friends. They’ve been friends since they were in grade school.”
“And?” My wife glanced at me. “When I was her age, I was dating.”
“Sam’s not dating, and you’re not worried about her.”
She gave me a tight look. “Sam isn’t gay. She likes boys.”
“Really? All she does is hang out with me or with her three friends. You’re not worried about her being gay.”
“Oh, I’m worried, but not about her being gay.” She shook her head. A smile crossed her lips as we reached the ride-share car, the driver not even bothering to get out to open the door. “You really don’t see it, huh?”
She shook her head. “Trust me, Sam’s not gay, but I think Becky’s... confused. She’s spending the night at Tonya’s again next week. And you know her parents are so... permissible.”
“You mean they vote Democrat,” I said, arching an eyebrow.
“They probably encourage them,” my wife muttered.
I wanted to laugh, to say she was being ridiculous. Tonya’s parents were strict Christians. I almost added, “So what if she does like girls?” But I didn’t. I dropped her suitcase off in the trunk, the driver at least popped it open for me, and I slammed it shut.
“Do you want me to talk to her or something?” I asked as my phone beeped.
“Yes,” she said. “That would be great. She won’t talk to me.” My wife creased her lips. She wasn’t pleased that her relationship with her two daughters was strained. My wife had her vision on who they should be, but they were real people.
“Not worried about our son?” I asked.
“It’s different with boys to be shy,” she said. “He’s a sensitive soul. Besides, I’ve seen his drawings.” Her lips tightened. “He’s definitely not gay.”
“Definitely not,” I said, smiling. “He might want to learn anatomy better, because those girls he draws...”
A smile touched her lips. Then she sighed. “You’ll be fine, right?”
“Of course,” I said, grabbing her hips and pulling her close. “I’ll be just fine.”
“Love you,” she said. Then she kissed me. Not a quick one, but a lingering one, almost like Sam’s. My dick, still hard, throbbed.
“Love you, too,” I said when I broke it. “Damn, now I got to go teach all those nubile college coeds like this.”
She rubbed her crotch against my hardon. “Just think about all the things I’ll do to you when I get back.”
I groaned as she broke away and opened the back door. “You’re such a cruel woman.”
“You love it,” she said, that smile so playful.
I closed her car door and waved goodbye as the Uber driver backed out of the driveway. I sighed as the car pulled away, heading off to the airport. I turned and headed back inside. I pulled my phone out. I didn’t check it religiously like everyone else. I wasn’t that much of a fan of them.
I frowned. My phone said a new app had installed. Reality Editor. I frowned. “What’s that?” I entered the house. “James, have you been messing with my phone again.”
“No,” he said, his face buried in his own phone. All three of my children were staring at their phone. “Not since the last time you broke it.”
“I didn’t break it,” I muttered. Maybe it was a new service? Or one of those virus things. I frowned and hovered my fat thumb over the icon of a pencil or stylus writing on the world. It reminded me of the Glorification of the Eucharist painting by Salimbeni, the Renaissance work of art depicting God and Jesus writing on the globe of the world.
A red X appeared on the icon. I hit it and then confirmed the delete. It vanished off my phone.
Then I noticed the time on the clock in the corner. “Okay, clear off your dishes. Time for school.”
“Right, Daddy!” Sam said. She bounced to her feet, her short bob of hair swaying about that elfin face. She darted towards the sink with her dishes. Becky followed with almost as much alacrity while James stared at his phone.
“Buddy,” I said. “Come on. School.”
He sighed and put away his phone. He pushed up his glasses and carried his plate to the kitchen. I grabbed the mostly empty platters, a few scraps of bacon and crumbling pieces of scrambled eggs remaining. The sink hissed as they cleaned their dishes off.
“Done!” Sam said, giving me a big smile.
“Good job, kumquat,” I told her.
Her cheeks went bright red. Then she darted out of the room. I glanced over at Becky as she finished, my wife’s words lingering in my mind. Even if she was gay, it wasn’t my business if she didn’t want to talk about it. I decided to lie to my wife and tell her I’d talked to Becky.
“Let’s get going,” I said, adjusting my tie. “If you want to get to classes on time, James, you better start walking.” He didn’t like to ride in my car like his sisters.
He just popped in his headphones and nodded his head, his tie still lose. He walked out the door, his backpack on. Becky sidled up to me, a smile on her lips. She hooked her arm around mine. “I’m ready, Dad.”
“Me, too, Daddy!” Sam said, shooting her sister a strange look before she seized my other arm in a very possessive grip. “Let’s go. I get shotgun!”
“But...” Becky gasped. “I... Fine.”
Sam stuck out her tongue at her sister. I sighed.
My phone beeped.
I shifted in my chair. It was silent in my classroom, save for the wheezing breaths of poor Kyleigh Jacobs, as my first period worked on their test. Their pencils scratched across the paper. I gazed out at them. Some of them were focused intently like Seth Parish, the nerdy kid who liked to sit in the center of the front row, or Babette Gagnon, a French girl with curly, brown hair that tumbled about her face. She had a cute, button nose that twitched as she worked. Nikkole Vance, a cheerleader, studied her glossy nails. Others were frowning, like my daughter’s friend, Courtney Franks. She absently rubbed at her black hair, pushing back a loose lock. Mathew Tollemache had a perplexed look on his face. The beefy guy played on our college’s football team. He wasn’t an idiot, but English wasn’t his forte. He made a hesitant mark on his page. Beside him, the vivacious, Hispanic girl, Evita Loyola, toyed with a strand of her bleached-blonde hair. She had leaned back in the chair, her blouse tight about her breasts, the top few buttons undone.
I should scold her about that, but the teasing expanse of golden-brown skin was a delight to study. I shifted, my dick throbbing in my pants. She smiled at me like she could feel my eyes. She leaned forward, almost daring me to look.
I fished my phone out of my pocket, my cheeks burning. I loved the excuse to have something else to look at. I shouldn’t be playing with my phone in class, but... I swiped the screen and there was another notification of an installed app.
I frowned as I unlocked my phone with my passcode. That same icon was back. The stylus writing on the globe. My brow furrowed. That shouldn’t be there. I shifted in my chair. Apps didn’t just reinstall themselves. Did they?
Was this my son’s doing?
He was into computers as well as drawings. He took every computer class offered by Rainier Christian. My friend, Bob Miller, always spoke highly of my son’s talent at it. Maybe this was a prank.
Feeling Evita’s eyes on me, I lifted my phone. I should talk to the girl, but these days... It wasn’t safe for a male staff member to be alone with any student, especially not a vivacious nineteen-year-old with such round breasts and flirty smile.
My heart thundered. The scratch of pencils sounded louder. Kyleigh’s wheezing breath, brought on by her morbid obesity, hissed over and over. I tried not to think of Evita’s creamy skin. How young and tight she was. The way Linda was. Not that my wife wasn’t sexy, but no amount of exercise could compete with a nineteen-year-old in her prime.
In my mind, Evita undid another button, showing off a hint of her bra. It would be something naughty. Something inappropriate for even a public university, let alone a private Christian one.
No, no, don’t think about that.
I tapped the icon.
The app loaded. Every sound in the room ended. No more scratch of pencils. No more chugging, strained breaths. No more creaking seats as students fidgeted. I looked up to see...
“Holy shit!” I gasped at the naked woman standing across my desk from me.
She was a strange mix of young, vulnerable innocence and whorish, vampish sexuality. I swallowed as my eyes flicked from her firm, conical breasts that were at eye level, to her face framed by her ethereal, blonde hair. She had plump lips, the type for kissing and sucking, and large, purple eyes that shone with a kind of virginal curiosity, a hunger newly awakened to the world.
“W-who are you?” I asked, my eyes flicking down now. Past those small, firm tits topped by pink nipples to the smooth sleekness of her stomach that led down to the hairless V of her pubic mound. Then descended to the tight lips of her pussy.
Dew glistened on her lips.
“You can’t be here,” I groaned, wanting to look away as my dick throbbed in my jeans. “You have to put on clothes.”
“Clothes are for those who feel shame,” she said. “I am beyond shame, Steve Davis. That is a shackle that does not bind me. Just like you are no longer bound by destiny.”
“Destiny?” I said, my brow furrowing. Who was this woman.
“I am Anael,” she said, speaking each of the three syllables with deliberateness. Ahn Ay Ehl. “The Angel of the Love Star.” She shifted her hips, her firm breasts jiggling. “I have been sent as your guide, to help you with your newfound freedom.”
“Freedom?” I asked, swallowing.
“Why, from the dictates of Destiny.” She moved around my desk. My eyes tracked her. I was surprised my students weren’t making an outcry. They weren’t making a sound at all and...
“Crap!” I gasped, staring out at my students. They were... frozen. None of them moved. Evita stared at me with hunger. Nikkole Vance, her blonde hair streaked with red highlights, was in the middle of a stretch that pressed her round breasts against her white blouse. Courtney scratched at her nose while poor Kyleigh’s three chins looked frozen in mid-wobble. They’d swayed too far to the left. “What...? How...? This...?”
“The flow of time is paused when you open the app,” said Anael as she stood before me, her stomach right at my eye level now, her breasts quivering just above me. “It is our new way of giving out this power.”
“From time to time, to shake up the flow of reality, a person is selected to be freed from destiny.”
“Cause and effect.” A smile grew on her lips. “From the moment this universe came into being, your every action was known. Predicted. You cannot help it. You are a product of all that has come before you. The way your culture has shaped you. Your experiences with others. They have all given you the illusion that free will exists for anyone, but in reality, you are just responding to stimuli in a predictable manner.
“Until now. Steve Davies, you alone are free to do as you wish. With that app.”
“The... Reality Editor,” I said, staring down at the screen. It showed a wire frame image of the classroom, people appearing as dots sitting at the furniture. Each dot was labeled with their name. Even this angel next to me.
Anael sauntered away from me. She had a tight tush, as firm and bubbly as any of the barely legal girls in my classroom. Her hips swayed as she sauntered past young Seth frozen in the process of furiously writing on his quiz. She caressed the top of his head before she reached Evita sitting in the row behind him, her desk offset.
Anael’s hand caressing across the Latina girl’s golden-brown wrist. “You can reshape the world, Steve.”
I swallowed. “Re... shape.”
“Change people’s destiny. Affect them. Make them better.” She gave me a wicked smile as her hand slid up Evita’s arm, caressing her body through her blouse, until she reached the girl’s neckline. She stroked down to that top button I imagined Evita undoing. “Or make them... naughtier.”
My dick throbbed.
Anael’s hand slipped into Evita’s blouse. It was clear she was groping the paused coed’s breast, feeling that plump, barely legal tit in her hand. My forehead burst out in sweat. My cock hadn’t been this hard since I was in college.
“You can help people,” Anael purred, pulling her hand from Evita’s blouse. She strolled between Courtney Frank’s and Matthew Tollemache’s desks, her fingernails scratching at the football player’s thick arm. The angel stopped at Kyleigh’s desk. “You can improve them.”
Anael moved behind Kyleigh. The girl was easily three hundred pounds, her flabby arms stretching out her blouse, her face round and pudgy. The poor thing was picked on all the time. She had few friends. I always wanted to do more for her. She had such a sweet personality.
If she wasn’t so fat. If she had a body like Evita’s or Nikkole’s...
“Exactly,” Anael purred. “With that device, you can improve her. Just tap the dot that represents her, and you can edit her.”
I swallowed, my hand shaking. “She would be happier.”
“Of course she would,” Anael said, a big smile crossing her innocent, whorish face. Her firm titties swayed above Kyleigh’s head. “You would be giving her what she wants.”
I tapped Kyleigh’s dot. The screen changed. A naked version of Kyleigh appeared, a frozen model, like one of those avatars in a character creation menu on the video games James and Sam liked to play together. Like that Skytop or Skymountian or whatever game both got into a few years ago. It looked like she could even be rotated. To her right was a menu:
I frowned at the three different menus. Physical and mental made sense. “Spiritual?”
“Her sexuality, her faith, her morals, and her social skills,” Anael answered. “We’ll want to adjust those, too. But let’s start with physical.”
I tapped it and more options appeared.
- Nervous System
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “This is... a lot of choices.”
“You can change any bit of her,” Anael said. “You can remake her from the ground up. You can transform her into a beautiful woman. Isn’t that amazing, Steve?”
“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head in awe. “This is... Why was I chosen to have all this power?”
“You would have to ask the Most High why.”
“God?” I asked, my voice tight.
“That’s a word for Him, which is an imprecise word in and of itself since the Creator has no gender. Your language just lacks the... capacity to describe the Most High. Humans never get it right. They only ever see parts of Him. How could they not when He is beyond your universe. He exists in... dimensions your mind can’t even understand. Nor could you fathom His motivations in why He chose you. Just know He placed this power in you.”
“Okay,” I said, frowning. “So, uh, let’s make her skinnier. I guess... Torso.” I tapped that option and...
- Muscle Tone
- Fat Deposits
“Crap,” I muttered this was complex... Breasts... Nipples... I tapped Fat deposits. That brought up a slider with a percentage. Hers was almost maxed out. I dragged my finger down it and...
The image of her on my phone grew skinnier. Not in the thighs, arms, or neck, but in the center of her. Her breasts seemed to grow as the rest of her grew skinnier. No, they didn’t grow, they just became more and more pronounced as the rolls of fat vanished. Her stomach grew sleek. I stopped it when she reached a healthy, curvy size. But she looked freakish with the fat on the rest of her. So I hit the Arms Sub-Menu.
- Muscle Tone
- Fat deposits
I hit the same slider, her chicken-wings arms growing sleek and narrow. I shuddered, switching to her legs, doing the same thing on them, making her thighs toned, her calves sleek. I turned her around, heading to the Buttocks Sub-menu under Legs, turning that flabby ass into something...
“Damn,” muttered as I used my finger to turn her image around.
I licked my lips, unable to notice the black bush between her thighs. Then I glanced at those large, pillowy breasts. They had some sag to them. I could.. .fix that. I switched back to the Torso Sub-Menu and found the correct sub-menu.
I blinked at lactation, ignored that. I opened up the Toned slider, making them firmer, perkier. They began to lift up, her tits almost defying gravity until she had a big, large, lush pair of tits that were just begging to be played with. Her nipples were fat and dusky pink, just perfect to play with.
My dick was so hard. This was my nineteen-year-old student. I had transformed her into a hottie. I just had to fix the fat of her face.
- Fat deposits
- Vocal Chords
I quickly adjusted the fat content of her face. She had such delicious features, looking almost vampish now. A hottie. Every guy attending the college would pant after her. They would all want to enjoy her. To play with her.
I wanted to play with her.
“Mmm, yes, yes, you’re doing good,” Anael said.
I swallowed. “Yeah,” I said, staring at the image of the bombshell hottie on my phone. “Why does she have to be naked?”
“Thinking naughty thoughts?” Anael asked, her tone teasing.
“So you can see how you’re changing her. A preview. Once you make your changes, you can never edit her again.”
“What?” I asked.
“You only get to edit a person, or an object, once. It’s one of the rules. I guess it makes things more interesting. You also only get three edits a day.”
“Three edits...” I said, swallowing.
“So,” Anael said. “You’ve improved her body, but not the behavior that led her to be like this. You need to adjust that, too. Open the spiritual menu.”
“So we need to adjust her Social Mores. She needs to have a stronger aversion to control her appetite so she can look beautiful and fit in with society,” the angel said.
I opened the Social Sub-Menu and saw Mores as the third and final option. I clicked it and a whole host of options popped up, all about interacting with people, polite behavior, what she thought was or was not acceptable in society. My eyebrows furrowed.
There was even options about affection. How willing she was to show it in public. Her views on flirting. There was everything about this girl in here.
“This is... so much power,” I said. “I could...”
“Make her have the hots for her teacher?” Anael asked. “You could mold her so that she wants to be affectionate and thankful to the man who saved her from her life of horrid obesity. Who made her a true beauty, a woman who doesn’t have to be ashamed of who she is.”
My cock throbbed. “I could... do that?”
“In her Sexuality Sub-Menu and her Mores Sub-Menu.” Anael smiled. “Mmm, yes, we can make it so she has fantasies for you she wants to act on. You are a handsome man, after all, Steve. It’s not unexpected for your female students to develop crushes on you. Just look at Evita there.”
I glanced at the Latina girl. My cheeks were burning. I hit the Sexuality Sub-menu.
“Let’s up he libido so she’s hornier, and let’s adjust what she considers taboo,” Anael said.
“I can... even make her... straight or gay or bi?” I asked.
“Edit her, yes,” she said. “You are adjusting all those things that shaped her. You’ll remake her and then let her new destiny change the history of her life to this moment. After you hit the edit button, she’ll be out of your control, acting in the new way you modified her.”
I shook my head again. I shouldn’t do this. But I couldn’t stop myself from upping her libido, from increasing her sex drive until it was nearly maxed out. I shuddered then dove back into her social mores. I decreased her belief that students shouldn’t have sex with professors. Anael whispered suggestions, and I acted on them.
“We can add sexual techniques, too,” she moaned. “She’s a virgin. She has no experience. You can make her so she’s skilled. So she can please you.”
“I shouldn’t...” I groaned. “I’m married.”
“Well, you can always edit your wife so that’s not a problem,” Anael said. “You can do what you like. Trust me, the new Kyleigh will be so happy. You’ve saved her from a lifetime of medical problems.”
I groaned, nodding my head. I couldn’t think straight. My blood pounded through my veins. I opened up the Mental Menu.
“It’s under knowledge,” Anael said.
- Physical Skills
- Artistic Skills
- Sexual Skills
And found the Sexual Skills Sub-Menu.
- Oral Technique
- Finger Technique
I groaned at all the options. Positions. Oral techniques. So many different things. I worked through them, adding things I liked, things I’d only dreamed about. I couldn’t believe I could do this. It was so far-fetched.
Maybe I just passed out at my desk and this was all some sort of naughty dream. No one person could have this power.
“I think we have her,” Anael said, a big grin on her face. “Well, unless you want to make her shaved. She doesn’t need that bush, does she?”
“No, no, that’s fine,” I groaned.
“Then just hit compile,” she said. “The power will do the work. Reality will have changed. No one will ever know that Kyleigh wasn’t this poor, sad, lonely fat girl. They will accept the new her like she’s always been this way.
“You’re the only person that will know.” Anael gave me a big grin as she sauntered to me, her firm titties bouncing. “Just hit compile and then let’s see what happens.”
“Yes,” I groaned and hit compile. A new menu popped up.
DO YOU WISH TO DO THIS?
Two options appeared:
I hit yes.
My screen flashed for a moment. My phone grew hot. Reality rippled out from me, a wave of distortion that washed over my desk. It hit the front row of my students, Seth rippling and bending like I viewed him through the lines of a magnifying glass held at a strange angle. It swept passed him and splashed over Evita and Courtney. It nearly bent Matthew in half.
Anael walked through the changes without it even touching her like the fabric of reality merely bent around her.
Then it hit Kyleigh.
For a moment, her entire body rippled. She became blurry, like seeing a reflection in a rippling pond. It was hard to say what was happening save her twisted image seemed to grow smaller. She wasn’t as wide and...
The wave washed passed her and a sexy, nineteen-year-old hottie was left in her place, her body curvy, her waist like an hourglass, her blouse clinging to those large, perky breasts. Her black hair tumbled about a vixen’s face. She had a hunger in her eyes that were focused on me, her lips red and plump, her legs crossed. They looked so firm as they peeked out of her schoolgirl skirt.
“Holy shit,” I muttered.
“Now unpause time,” Anael said. “And enjoy.”