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On the Road Again
|Excerpt from the interactive story "Ty's Power" from an interactive story site called cyoc.net.|
|Ty was 100 yards down the road when he stopped, winded.
"What an idiot I am!" he sputtered, slapping his palm against his forehead. "I have the power to change things at will - I don't have to absorb their changes. Must have been more scared by that cop than I thought!"
He sat and thought for a minute, then stood. "Ooof!" he grunted as he stood. "Well, that's changing first. Don't particularly want to stand out right now, so, let's go for something strictly average, and about 10 years younger."
He concentrated and could feel the sweats he wore loosening their grip on his stomach and thighs. "Ah, that's better. Wonder what I look like?"
Of course, there was nowhere to check out a reflection on the rural road where we was, so Ty trotted back to the truck and did a quick once over in the side-view mirror. "It'll have to do," he thought, looking at the nondescript, but not unattractive reflection, a couplde of days sparse growth of moustache and beard on the face. "And, just to cover my tracks a little more ...." Ty leaned over the rear bed of the pick-up and concentrated on the sleeping cop and cowboy. Within moments they grew back to their original proportions and ages. "Heh. That should be enough to throw a wrench in any investigation," he aid to himself when he realized those responding to his earlier radio call would find a naked highway patrolman sound asleep in the back of the truck, nestled against a half-naked cowboy. "Nobody'll believe them, and I'll be free and clear!"
Ty whistled a random snatch of music as he ambled down the road and turned left at the first crossing.
About 1/2 a mile further along, he passed the overgrown yard of a ramshackle old house. A boy, about 6 or 7, was swinging on the swing set in the front yard. Nobody else was visible outiside. Ty realized that it was getting on towards dinner time (actually, somewhat past it). There was just enough light to make out the boy against the shrubbery and treees between him and the house.
"Hey, Mithtah!" shouted the boy, barefoot, dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a red and white striped shirt, legs pumping on the swing.
"Hey yourself," answered Ty. "How far is it to town?"
"My Mom always says ten minutes as the crow flies, half an hour if you walk," answered the lad.
"Thanks. You're a bright kid, you know that?" Ty said.
"Uh-huh. Someday I'm going to be bigger than you and go to high school and then college and everything. I can't wait!" the boy shouted, smiling.
"Why wait?" Ty thought, and concentrated. "Bye, kid!"
"Bye, Mith --" - a pause and then the last syllable, "...ter" resounded at least an octave lower than the rest of the sentence, followed by a thud and then a loud "Ouch!" The poorch light of the house came on in response to the unexpected shout.
Ty, just at the end of the yard's fence, looked back. There was a teen-ager, probably about 16, getting up awkwardly from where he'd landed when his new size and weight had propelled him off the swing. He was clad in a very tight red and white striped shirt that left his midriff exposed, the fabric stretched taut over his chest. The young man rubbed his newly-sore butt and turned slightly. Ty saw that the cut-offs had (mercifully) split in the rear. The legs of the shorts appeared painted onto the boy's legs, stretched so much that the blue denim appeared almost white in the wan light of the porch bulb, and Ty could just make out the quite sizeable bulge resulting from what now, suddenly, was compressed into the crotch of the shorts.
Smiling himself, Ty turned and briskly walked down the road, whistling.
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