Shortcuts

A paranormal superhero story with a supernatural twist

What if everything you've heard about all that new age stuff is true? What if there really are such things as telepathy and telekinesis? What if it really is possible to levitate and even fly? Imagine the possibilities. Then imagine what would happen if someone managed to learn how to do all of that and more in the span of just a few weeks. That someone would become incredibly powerful in a very short period of time.

Some people would be tempted to abuse so much power, and many would give in to that temptation without a second thought. Human beings are imperfect after all. But what about the more virtuous among us? Could all of that power corrupt even the purest of heart? With enough pain and anguish, would it be possible to push even the most virtuous person to give in to temptation?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There are two transgendered characters in this story, one of whom is the main character. The other transgendered character is special. She appears near the end of part one. The main character's gender dysphoria doesn't begin until later in the story. That's when everything really ramps up.

Comments have been blocked for this story but kudos and private messages are always welcome. Even highly critical private messages are welcome. I don't mind criticism when it's private.

Shortcuts
by Terry Volkirch

Chapter 1

In an otherworldly land of eternal twilight, a lone figure lounged comfortably on a large rock that was roughly shaped like an Adirondack chair. A thick, hazy smoke hung in the air, obscuring the fleeting shadows that skittered over the dry, rocky soil. Everything looked and behaved normally in that dark place, everything except for a pinpoint of light that slowly approached.

When it got closer, the light became unbearably bright as it resolved into an oblong shape, and then a slender, pale figure wearing a long, white robe. Light from the figure pierced the smoke and burned it away, revealing the dark figure who squirmed and pulled at the waist of his plaid Bermuda shorts, the only thing that he wore besides a pair of black sandals. His long, spiky black hair and the dark gray skin of his angular face, stubby limbs and broad chest contrasted greatly with the pale, white-haired figure who floated several feet above the ground before him.

The dark figure had to shield his eyes from the bright light, and he growled at the glowing intruder. "You're not welcome here, asswipe."

The pale being of light looked somewhat more male than female, and he sadly shook his head at the foul language before he spoke. "Aren't you the least bit curious why I'm here?" He received more growling as a reply and continued anyway.

"My name is Aaron, and I'm here because of the attention you started giving a certain young human named Lester."

The dark being shifted nervously in his seat. "Nosy bastard. Mind your own damn business."

"Ah. Since you refuse to show good manners, I'll dispense with formalities. I know your name, Ash, and I know your game."

"You talk too much, jerkwad. Go to.... Go back to heaven."

Aaron shook his head. "I don't reside in heaven, poor creature. How misinformed you are about my kind. I suppose you think I'm here to try to reform you."

Ash laughed at that, a laugh full of good, honest mirth. Aaron could find and bring out at least a little good in almost anyone. It was his duty.

"No," Ash said, his face grim again. "I can't see you reforming me, dork."

"Ah, yes. As expected. But no matter. I'm here to make you a little wager, if you're bold enough."

The dark being raised an eyebrow, both in interest and irritation at the thinly veiled reverse psychology. He wasn't stupid even though it might have seemed that way with his crude choice of words.

"You don't trust me?" Aaron asked, raising his arms straight out with open hands.

"Pious pissants don't gamble. Why are you really here?"

"Seriously. I don't lie. I'm here to make you a wager. I'm betting that you can't corrupt the soul of good young Lester McHenry."

That confused the dark being. He'd already been trying to do just that. Bringing out the bad in people was his duty as much as it was Aaron's to bring out the good. But Ash kept failing miserably. Lester simply had too much good in him. It didn't stop Ash from trying though. Again, it was his duty. That and he liked the challenge that the teenage boy presented.

"I see your confusion so I'll spell out the terms of the wager. I will allow you to bestow one ability on the teenager, any ability within your power. Then we both sit back for one year and indirectly try to influence his use of your gift for either good, in my case of course, or bad. Meddling directly in family affairs is forbidden but everything else within reason is allowed."

Ash thought about that. He wasn't normally able to give abilities to humans. He didn't really want to. It took a lot out of him. Beings like Aaron usually blocked him anyway, leaving him with few options. All he could do was try little tricks that could only indirectly push the target to turn bad. The more he thought about the wager, the more it bothered him. Something didn't make sense.

"Why?!" he said, raising his voice. "Why make a wager?! With me of all beings?! Shouldn't you be trying to turn me to the side of good?! Isn't gambling against your moral code?!"

Aaron smiled. "It depends on the wager. And please forgive me. I've neglected to tell you what we're wagering for. Sadly, you'll win automatically if Lester does anything bad with your ability. It'll fulfill your duty of corrupting a good young man."

"Which I'm doing anyway, moron."

"You're trying to do, you mean."

"Yeah. Rub it in, bastard. Fine then. What happens if you win?"

"I win if he remains good, and if I win, you become my acolyte."

That shocked the dark being. He sputtered until he managed to spit out, "Like hell I will! I'm not gonna wear a white robe and kiss your pious ass!"

Aaron laughed at the image. "You won't have to wear a robe or kiss me. You just have to stay with me and observe me in my duty. It'll be good for you."

Ash shook his head. "Forget it. I'm not following you around for eternity."

"Ah, yes. That would be unreasonable, but I never meant for our time together to last forever. Let's make it three years. I think that's fair."

"One minute with you is too long, asshole."

"I've been here longer than that and you seem to be somewhat entertained so far."

"Only because I can't get rid of you. I can't force you to leave."

"Fair point. I'll leave now and give you some time to think about the wager. Just speak my name if you decide to accept and I'll return to finalize the deal. Remember, my name is Aaron, and I'll be listening." With that, the floating being of light disappeared in a flash, leaving the surrounding smoke to drift back.

"Your name isn't Aaron," the dark being muttered, "it's Shithead, and I'll be damned if I make a wager with you."

"I heard that!" a disembodied voice shouted. "Don't say my name again unless you agree to the wager or I'll cancel it!"

Aaron's voice startled Ash and he grumbled a little. Surprises didn't agree with him. Still, he couldn't help wondering about abilities that might corrupt someone like Lester. He sat in the dark and happily glowered as he thought about the possibilities.

* * *

A tall, thin boy on the cusp of manhood spent his Sunday afternoon sitting on a creaky wooden chair, watching a neighbor girl through his small bedroom window. He would've considered working up the nerve to go outside and talk to her but his recent long streak of bad luck made him apprehensive about doing anything other than sit and hide in his room. If he stubbed his toe one more time, spilled one more glass of milk or got one more paper cut, he'd beg his parents to pad his room and get him a straight jacket. Another week or two of accidents and he thought he might go crazy.

His mother insisted he was just at an awkward age. Going through a growth spurt had made him a little more uncoordinated for a time, but after nearly two months with multiple injuries and accidents on a daily basis, he felt cursed. Objects seemed to almost jump out at him, getting in his way, tripping or hurting him in some fashion. If he believed in guardian angels, he'd pray to his. Instead, he distracted himself by spying on his attractive neighbor.

Angie stood barefoot in her driveway, washing her father's car, wearing white short shorts and a light blue halter top that showed off her athletic body quite well. She could've easily been a cheerleader, practicing with the squad in the late summer heat, but she preferred to help out at home and avoid any high school cliques.

The boy sighed. He loved everything about her, even the way her pony tail of long, wavy brown hair bobbed while she worked. The girl seemed so beautiful, both inside and out. If only he was a little taller and stronger. If only he had enough self-confidence so he didn't think that he needed to be taller and stronger.

"Lester!" his mother called. "Your lunch is ready!"

He cringed when he heard his name. He hated it. Lester sounded too formal and the common nickname, Les, was even worse. It reminded him of the word "less," making him feel inadequate in so many ways. The only reason he tolerated his name was to honor his parents. They graced him with the name long before he could develop his hatred of it. They couldn't have known.

His chair protested with a loud creak as he got up. Every time he sat on it, he worried it would fall apart.

'Poor old thing,' he thought.

As he turned his back on the chair, he noticed that he wore a male version of Angie's outfit with the colors reversed. He wore blue jean cutoffs and a white tank top, and the similar outfits made him imagine how nice the two of them would look together out on a date at his favorite pizzeria. The thought made him smile until he arrived in the kitchen to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple that his mother left for him. He didn't notice the glass of milk until it was too late. He just caught the lip of the glass with his left hand, spilling the contents all over the high, narrow kitchen counter.

"Not again!"

He turned around and lunged for the roll of paper towels to mop up his mess, only to snag his foot on a heavy metal stool by the counter, sending him stumbling across the room. He hit the handle of the cupboard door under the sink and badly bruised his hip. The intense pain made him slightly nauseous and he let himself slump to the floor, curling into a fetal position for a nice, safe break from the implements of torture all around him.

Lester's mother entered the adjoining dining room through the sliding glass door at that moment. The slender woman looked down at her son and slowly shook her head full of long, wavy blonde hair. "Stop being so dramatic, honey," she told him. After hearing milk dripping onto the floor, she added, "And please clean up your mess. I've got to get back out to the garden."

"Yes, Mother," came the muffled reply.

She carefully stepped over her son to get a plastic cup and returned to the sink, filling it with water and quickly downing it before rushing back outside. She loved her garden.

The teen slowly got up and carefully reached for the paper towels. He ripped off several, dampened a couple and returned to the counter to mop up the milk. Moving slowly and carefully, he managed to avoid any further accidents and finished cleaning the counter and floor.

Before too long, he sat on a stool at the kitchen counter with a second glass of milk firmly held in both hands. He knew it looked ridiculous, like a little kid would drink, but he needed the milk if he was to grow big and strong for all of the girls in his fantasies.

He sighed again as he set the glass down against the wall that ran along the back of the counter. He wanted to minimize the chance of tipping the glass again. He left a little to help wash down his meal.

'I'm not going to let this get to me,' he told himself, and that was all he needed. His strong spirit could withstand such trivialities. The bad luck couldn't last. He wouldn't let it.

After successfully finishing his meal, including the remaining milk, he headed back down the hall to his bedroom, where he planned to sit in his trusty chair and resume his girl watching. At least that always promised to be a safe activity.

* * *

Ash had seen enough from his favorite stone chair. He'd been staring at an oval portal to view the Earth using his infernal magic, occasionally scratching his groin whether it itched or not. He'd continued to plague Lester and the boy never faltered, never lashed out at anyone, not even himself for his own apparent clumsiness. The only thing that the dark being had to work with was the boy's lack of self-confidence, but he couldn't do anything physically with that and he couldn't mess with the boy's mind. Either some unknown magic would block him or beings like Aaron would somehow detect his intent and stop him.

He'd already decided to accept Aaron's wager. He'd just wanted to play around with Lester until he'd figured out which ability had the best chance at pushing the boy over to the dark side.

Up to that point, clairvoyance seemed like the best bet with the way that Lester watched the girl next door. If the boy possessed clairvoyance, he could spy on the girl remotely at any time, including when she took a bath or shower. As the dark fiend gave it a little more thought though, he couldn't imagine it happening. The boy showed too much control, too much honor.

"Shit."

The only way he could see himself having a chance was if he could somehow give the boy many abilities, making him very powerful in a short amount of time. He believed that absolute power corrupted absolutely. Given enough power and bad influence, any imperfect being could end up going bad. He just had to work out how a single ability could lead to gaining others, and it didn't take him long to come up with a solution.

"Aaron. I accept your wager."

The being of light slowly faded into view, brightening the area. "You called?" he said.

The dark fiend squinted and held a hand in front of his eyes. "Yes! But could you turn down the brightness first?! I can't see a damn thing!"

"Ah. Sorry about that." Aaron dimmed his light. "There. Is that better?"

Ash slowly lowered his hand. "Yeah. It is."

"And have you decided on which ability you'd like to give our boy?"

"Yeah. I want to give him easy and complete access to the Akashic records."

The being of light narrowed his eyes. The Akashic records existed more as an abstract concept than books in an actual building like a library, but they did exist in their own way, and they contained ethereal records of all past events. Anything and everything could be found if one had the means, and easy access to them could prove dangerous. Knowledge was definitely power.

"What?" the fiend said. "You said any one ability. That's only one. If the boy finds other helpful records to learn other abilities, more power to him." Aaron groaned at the pun but didn't interrupt. "There's a lot of information there. He might not find anything useful."

"Very devious, Ash, but I'm not sure I can agree to that."

"Going back on your word then? That's not a very honorable thing to do."

Aaron gave the fiend a wry grin. "Touché. Very well. You can give him the ability. The wager begins immediately. You've got one year to corrupt the boy. Just remember. No direct or extreme intervention and no attempts to influence family members. I'll be monitoring your progress and giving my own encouragement."

"Hey! How do I know you won't cheat?"

The being of light stared deep into the fiend's eyes, baring his soul while sneaking a peek into the fiend's soul at the same time.

"Right," Ash said. "Never mind. See you around then?"

"Ah, yes. I'll be around for occasional updates... and corrective action if necessary. Until then."

Aaron faded out, leaving the fiend, who had a big smirk on his face.

'Like taking candy from a baby.'

* * *

Lester tossed and turned that night, disturbed by a very vivid dream involving a short, dark man who seemed to be the librarian of an infinitely large library. The short man wore a long, black robe and offered him a brief tour of the library, and when the man tried to hand him a lollipop, he couldn't take any more. He woke up, sweating and vowing to cut down on late night dinners of frozen pizza.

"Lester!" his mother shouted. "Your breakfast is getting cold!"

"Oh, no!"

The boy's radio alarm clock seemed to have been accidentally unplugged and he overslept that Monday morning. He shrugged it off, making a mental note to plug it in and reset the clock after school. Throwing on a shirt and hopping out of his bedroom as he tried to step into his pants kept him too busy to deal with anything other than getting out the door for school as soon as possible. He could hear the front door of the house open and close as his mother left for work so he knew he had to be quite late.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, the teen made it out to the kitchen to find a plate of tepid waffles sitting on the counter. He bravely smeared a thin layer of butter of the waffles and squirted out just enough maple syrup to make them palatable. Once again, he didn't notice the glass of milk, but miracle of miracles, he didn't knock over the glass. He thanked his lucky stars and guzzled the milk after inhaling the waffles. Then he rushed out the door and made it to the bus stop just in time to catch his school bus.

The boy soon sat in a window seat near the middle of the school bus with his small backpack stuffed between his legs on the floor. He thought he could almost feel his luck changing, and he concentrated on the feeling. As he did, the bus and students around him seemed to turn transparent, and beyond them, he thought he could see what looked like shelves of books, stretching out to infinity from the center aisle of the bus.

Lester pinched his eyes shut and vigorously shook his head. When he opened his eyes again, the vision disappeared.

'That is one persistent dream,' he thought.

He couldn't stop thinking about the library, and he almost considered trying to repeat the experience when a familiar face sat down next to him at the next bus stop.

"Hey, Lester," a tall boy said, holding his own smaller backpack in his lap. The boy had black hair and glacier blue eyes so bright they almost seemed to glow.

"Hey, Brian."

"What's happening?"

"Just daydreaming a little."

"Angie again?" the other boy smirked.

"You know me too well. Too bad you aren't a girl."

"Yeah. Yeah. In your dreams."

"Right. In my dreams."

The two boys lapsed into a comfortable silence most of the rest of the way to school.

Just before rolling to a stop in the school bus lane, Lester ran his hands through his short, dark brown hair after realizing that he hadn't combed it, hadn't spared himself more than a glance in the bathroom mirror. His hair matted in clumps and resisted efforts to straighten it, leading him to a sudden daydream of flying at high speed, the wind drying and giving him a perfect windblown look that looked a lot better than his present state. The flying didn't seem likely so he forced his daydream to change to a ride in a convertible sports car with the top down. A sudden light cuff on the back of his head brought the daydreamer back to reality.

"Hey!" Lester protested.

"Time for school, playboy. Let's go."

"Yeah yeah," the shorter boy said. "But it wasn't Angie this time."

"Oh? What's her name then?" Brian smirked.

"It was a car."

"That works. You could name it Angie." The boy laughed.

Lester smiled. "Whatever. But it's too bad neither one of us has a car."

"Yeah. Riding the bus sucks. We must be the only two seniors who don't drive to school."

* * *

The school year started slowly as it often did, but on the Monday of the second week, changes promised to liven things up. The two boys left the bus, going to their respective classes after stopping by their lockers, and Lester soon found himself in his government class, sitting in the middle of the room as he preferred and waiting for the teacher, Mister Little, to show up. The short, loud man normally showed up early, and he was well-liked so the anxious class paid close attention when the principal and a strange man they'd never seen before entered the classroom in place of their teacher.

"Hello class," the principal said. "You're getting a substitute teacher. Mister Little had an accident. He's okay but he's decided to take a sabbatical for the rest of the school year. This is Mister Guile." He gestured to the strange man. "Please give him the same respect you would Mister Little." The principal then left.

Mister Guile stood about five and a half feet tall, with short black hair and lightly tanned skin that didn't have any freckles or blemishes of any kind. He cleared his throat and scanned the room, his gaze lingering on Lester for a little longer than any of the other students. No one noticed, except Lester, who privately wondered about the extra attention. The boy also wondered why the man looked somewhat familiar.

"Hello, class," the substitute said. "As your principal said, I'm Mister Guile, and I'll be trying to teach you about the realities of government. Shall we begin?"

A few students in the back moaned, causing the teacher to smile. He shuffled through some notes that Mister Little had left him and threw them in the trash can. Then he walked around to the front of his desk and launched into a lecture about the history of corruption in government, starting from the Nixon administration. He didn't get far before he suffered his own interruption.

A red-haired girl with striking green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of her nose rushed into the class. With her low heels she stood a few inches taller than the teacher, and she wore a short dark green dress that emphasized her mature feminine curves and complemented the color of her shoulder-length hair perfectly. "I'm sorry I'm late!" she said, sounding a little short of breath. "I didn't realize how long it took to walk...." She stopped herself when she noticed the whole class staring at her.

Mister Guile's reaction was even more extreme. His mouth hung open at first. Then he broke into a hearty laugh that had the whole class wondering about his sanity.

The new girl slowly turned and glared at the substitute teacher. She waited until Mister Guile laughed himself out before turning back to face the class, speaking out in a husky contralto, "My name is Erin MacCloud. I'm a new student here." She slowly moved to take an open seat in the row behind Lester and sat at her desk, dividing her attention between Mister Guile, who she stared daggers at, and Lester, to whom she gave a warm smile.

Lester watched the redhead, not taking his eyes off of her until she sat behind him. He sighed. Angie finally had some competition in his daydreams.

* * *

© 2014 by Terry Volkirch. This work may not be replicated in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder). All Rights Reserved. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental.