Lady Nude

Oh my God! I am sick. And have a headache. And I need to pee. Badly. Worst hangover ever!

I try to gather my wits, and get out of bed before I wet myself. As I stand up, the nausea gets worse, and so does the headache. I rush to the toilet, and pee. Then I stand for five minutes looking into the bowl, breathing heavily, not quite sure if I hope I will vomit and get it over with. Eventually, the nausea subsides. I take two painkillers, and go back to the kitchen. I should probably go back to bed, but my stomach is really upset. There is only one known cure to an upset stomach: a Coke.

I get a bottle from the fridge, sit down and drink it slowly. It had been a good party, celebrating that we graduated from college one year ago. Seven guys and nine girls from the class. Not many perhaps, but some of them were good friends. Maybe I should have drunk a bit less. And I should certainly had stayed away from that blue pill Brian gave me. I had not done party drugs since high-school. It was a bad idea then, it was a bad idea yesterday. A very bad idea. Well, I have suffered through hangovers before, I will survive this one too, but only if I get one more Coke.

I return to the table with the second Coke. Somehow, I have managed to get some cream cheese on the bottle. I take a paper towel, and wipe it off thoroughly, without shaking the bottle. I have a strange feeling of urgency as I begin opening the bottle.

Pssshhht. Coke all over! No wait, what is going on? It was like the Coke rushed out of the bottle when I opened it, but nothing really happened. Then I see the strange figure standing next to the table. A glowing humanoid figure with light emerging from it - almost as if there were wings. I am filled with awe and fear.

"Are you an angel?" I blurt out.

FEAR NOT, GIRL. I AM A ... I WILL NOT HARM YOU.

"Sorry, what did you say you are? A genie? Were you in the bottle?" I am confused and quite a bit scared, but obviously not scared enough to be really polite.

NO, I AM NOT A GENIE, I AM A ... AND YES, I WAS IN THE BOTTLE. THANK YOU FOR FREEING ME.

I realize that I am not hearing his voice (or her? do these kinds of things have gender?). I am hearing its thoughts - and I have no word for what this being is. Not an angel, not a jinn, not a fairy then.

"Oh" I say stupidly, wondering how a not-quite-a-jinn gets caught in a Coke bottle of all things.

I WAS CURSED. SEVEN HUNDRED YEARS AGO I WAS FORCED INTO A WINE BOTTLE, CURSED TO STAY FOR FORTY HEARTBEATS IN EACH BOTTLE, MOVING FROM BOTTLE TO BOTTLE UNTIL SOMEONE RUBBED IT AND OPENED IT WHILE I WAS STILL IN IT.

EIGHT TIMES SOMEBODY RUBBED THE BOTTLE BUT DID NOT OPEN IT BEFORE I WAS FORCED TO MOVE ON. AND ELEVEN TIMES HAVE THE BOTTLES BEEN OPENED WITHOUT RUBBING IT, FORCING ME TO MOVE ON. YOU WERE THE FIRST TO DO BOTH. YOU HAVE FREED ME, AND I AM GRATEFUL.

"You are most welcome." I finally remember to be polite.

TRADITION REQUIRES THAT I THANK YOU BY GRANTING A WISH. IF IT IS WITHIN MY CONSIDERABLE POWER TO GRANT IT, I WILL. BUT BE AWARE THAT ALL WISHES COME WITH A TWIST.

"A twist," I repeat, and grow fearful. I have played Dragons and Dungeons in high-school, and know the dangers of a cursed wish.

TWISTED, NOT CURSED. YOU WILL NOT REGRET A WELL-MADE WISH, IT WILL JUST NOT BE QUITE AS GOOD AS WITHOUT THE TWIST. BUT THAT IS THE NATURE OF THINGS, I CANNOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.

"Oh." An image comes to mind, of myself standing on a rooftop, dressed as a superhero with a long red cape flowing in the wind. On the street below a crowd adores me, grateful that the anonymous superheroine has saved them from some unspecified evil. I push the image away, I must wish for something realistic. Something really useful.

WHAT I SEE IN YOUR MIND IS POSSIBLE.

I have always enjoyed superhero comics, imagining myself as Wonderwoman or any other female superhero. I realize this is what I want. But I do not want to get an awful superpower like the Hulk, or something flashy but barely useful. There is one superhero with better powers than all others. I speak before I can change my mind.

"I wish to have powers like Superman, but to remain a girl," I say, hoping to forestall the most obvious "twist".

SOME OF SUPERMAN'S POWERS ARE IMPOSSIBLE. BUT MOST ARE POSSIBLE. I SHALL GRANT YOUR WISH. BUT I CANNOT GIVE YOU THE RED CAPE, FLOWING IN THE WIND, FOR THIS IS THE TWIST OF YOUR WISH: YOU SHALL HAVE WONDROUS SUPERPOWERS, BUT ONLY WHEN NAKED.

The being fades away. I sit at the table, staring into the air, not really knowing what happened. Eventually, I get up and take the Coke to the kitchen sink. I pour it down the drain. I certainly don't want to drink a Coke that some hallucination has been swimming in.

I open the fridge, and carefully move the cream cheese away from the remaining Coke bottles. Then I take one of them out, open it carefully, and sit down to drink it. The painkillers are beginning to work, and the Coke calms the nausea. But slowly I get more and more afraid. After half an hour I make a promise to myself. I stand up, and speak it aloud, as if somehow that would make it more binding.

"I will remember what happened today for the rest of my life, but never tell my friends about it. I solemnly swear that I will never again touch party drugs or any other kind of drugs. And I swear that if the hallucinations come back, I will see a doctor." Then I sit down on my chair, and cry.

Maybe half an hour passes, and I feel a bit better. I still need a bath, so I return to my bedroom, and remove my pajamas. I hesitate, then I remove my panties and stand naked on the bedroom floor. The curtains are drawn, and I stare at them, attempting to see what is outside. No X-ray vision. Then I spread out my arms, jump a bit and try to fly. Nothing. I stare intensely at the pillow, but it does not catch fire. Ah well, I was never really believing it, and I am only slightly disappointed.

I live on the sixth floor, and the buildings on the other side of the road are only two stories high, so no-one can look in through my window. But still, I never go around naked, keeping at least my panties on as I walk around the apartment. I consider putting the panties back on before going to the bathroom, but realize that it is silly, crossing the line between habit and OCD. So I walk rapidly through my small living room and into the bathroom. I look at my naked body in the mirror. I like my tits, they are big and shapely. No wonder that my classmates always tried to get a peek at them. I look at my face. The glasses make me look nerdy, and the strong lenses make my eyes appear smaller. Not for the first time do I wish that I could use contact lenses - perhaps that should have been my wish!

Finally, I remove my glasses and step into the shower cabin. Something is not quite right... I reach up to my face, to remove my glasses, but I already did that. I look at the wall, I see it perfectly. I step out of the shower, and look at my reflection in the mirror. I certainly look much better without glasses, but why do I see myself so sharply? As I stare at my reflection I begin seeing the kitchen behind the wall. I focus on it, and see it perfectly. I look at the floor, and see the apartment below. X-ray vision!

With a grin, I spread out my arms and try to fly. Something hits me really hard in the head, I fall sideways and smash the side of my head into the toilet bowl, then the back of my head hits the hard floor. It hurts, but only momentarily. I touch the spot on my head where I hit the toilet, expecting to find blood and fragments of skull. Nothing, not even a sore spot, but the toilet bowl has cracked. Then I see the circular hole in the ceiling, and understand what hit me.

I stand up again, spread my arms, and look into the mirror. Then very carefully I float half a foot into the air. Wow! I forget about taking a shower, and go back to the living room. With some hesitation, I open the door to the balcony. It is a cool autumn day, windy and overcast. As long as I stay inside, no-one can see my naked body, but if I go out on the balcony I will be visible from the street - at least if anybody looks up.

I make up my mind. I rapidly step out on the balcony, place one foot on a chair, then the other foot on the railing. Then I jump. I immediately realize my terrible mistake. I am having a second round of hallucinations! Is there any more embarrassing way to die than to lose your mind and jump naked from your sixth floor balcony?

But I do not fall. Instead I soar upwards, faster and faster. I quickly reach the low clouds, and am hidden from below. I had never realized how wet a cloud is inside! I rapidly pass through it, above the clouds the sun shines brightly. With loud shouts of joy, I make somersaults, loops and pirouettes in the air. Then I see a contrail far above me, the plane is halfway to the horizon north of me. I fly upwards to the contrail. The air gets freezing cold, probably minus fifty or more, but the cold cannot harm me, nor can the lack of oxygen. I begin to follow the contrail, chasing the plane, imagining how it would feel to sit on the wing of a flying airplane. Then I realize I cannot do that. I am naked, and will be exposing myself to the passengers! In any case, the pilot might see me and get a heart attack, crashing the plane. I am supposed to be a superhero, not a plane-crashing super-villain.

I stop chasing the plane, and look around. Below and to the east I see a smaller plane. I focus on it with my supervision, it is a private jet with a pilot and two passengers, a guy in a business suit and a girl in a bikini. Further away, another commercial jet. And two more approaching from the south. And far below me, the clouds over the city are breaking up. There are still clouds over the part of the city where I live, but elsewhere I can see the buildings. It is time for this superhero to return to her lair.

I fold my arms along my side, and drop head down towards the clouds far below me. I use my x-ray vision to make sure that I will not hit a hidden plane or a helicopter. Once I reach the safety of the clouds, I spread out my arms and fly sideways, homeward bound. Once I am above my apartment, I drop head first again until right before I reach my balcony. I flip over, land on my feet, and rush into my living room, collapsing in the sofa with my heart racing.

A minute later I go into the bedroom to get dressed. Then I turn on the TV. They are showing a program about food, it reminds me that I have neither had breakfast nor lunch. I mute the TV, and go to the kitchen to get myself a sandwich. Once my stomach is full, I remember that I never got a shower. The TV is still showing the food program as I go into the bathroom to strip and shower.

When I come back out, a yellow "Breaking News" is running over the screen. I turn the sound back on.

"... nine hostages, eight college students and their modern art teacher. But Caroline has now arrived at the site. What is happening, Caroline?"

The TV now shows a building with a lot of police in front of it. A reporter, presumably Caroline, is standing in front of the camera.

"I was just told by the head of police that three unknown men have taken nine or ten people hostage in a building owned by the university. One of the students should be lightly wounded. Fortunately only a few people were present in the building on a Sunday. I have also been told that a professional hostage negotiator is on his way to the site. Other than that, I cannot tell much. I have seen motion behind a window a minute ago, but cannot see much from here, and the police does not let anyone close to the building."

I consider stripping and flying in to save the hostages. But I am reluctant to show up naked, and anyway who knows how the criminals will react. I may have superpowers, but I have never used them before - a single mistake and a hostage will be dead. Better leave it to the professional negotiator. I sit down in front of the TV.

"Now back to the studio," the news anchor says. "It appears that we have just received an email from the terrorists. They claim to be Benjamin Branson's team. Branson was the bank robber who killed three policemen and an old lady when he and his gang robbed a bank two months ago. He was caught and is now in jail, but his gang was never apprehended. Apparently they have now shown up."

The anchor looks gravely at the camera. "They have also send us their demands. They demand that Benjamin Branson is released from prison. They also want five million dollars in cash, and a private airplane with enough fuel to reach Venezuela. Finally, they demand that the President pardons them all, including Branson."

The anchor discusses the possibilities of meeting these terms with an expert, apparently just another journalist who knows a little bit about criminal law. They do not reach a conclusion. Then Caroline is back on the screen, but has nothing important to tell us. Suddenly the anchor is back again.

"We just got a second email, they demand that we read it verbatim. It says 'The so-called professional hostage negotiator should stay away, we will shoot him on sight. We are not here to negotiate, we expect our demands to be met quickly, and in full. To show you that we are serious, we will rape, torture and kill a hostage every hour on the hour, starting at 3 PM.'"

I look at my phone, it is 2:41. No time to lose, the superhero must act! I quickly remove my clothes (and my glasses), open the door to the balcony, and take off. I ascend high above the city, and quickly find the building surrounded by police. My x-ray vision allows me to see what goes on inside, even from this altitude. There are only two hostage-takers, and they are in a big hall on the second floor with all the hostages. They are both heavily armed, and outside the police is preparing to storm the building. It will become a bloodbath.

There is a backdoor, mostly shielded by a garage. The police is observing it, of course, but the press is not. I drop like a rock, and land in front of the door. I hear a surprised shout behind me as I reach out for the door handle. The door is locked, but I quickly yank the handle, pulling the entire lock out of the door. I enter the building before anybody reacts, the sight of a naked woman dropping from the sky must have stunned them.

I silently run up the stairs, and wait outside the door to the large hall where the hostages are held. I see through the door that the villains are uneasy, they must have heard me break the door. They both carry machine guns and suicide bomb vests - but a quick x-ray scan shows that the suicide vests are fake. One of the baddies is standing next to the wall, I place myself on the opposite side. Then I smash the wall with both hands, jump through the hole and yank the machine gun from him, breaking his arm in the progress. His partner spins around, and before I can react fires his gun. I feel the bullets slam into my naked breasts and belly, it hurts but does no harm. In two steps I have reached him and disarmed him. I pick him up with one hand, and jump back to the first guy. I pin him down to the floor with my foot.

The hostages look stunned, and stare at me with disbelief. I realize that I stand naked in front of a large audience, and feel myself blush. I have to act quickly before shame paralyses me. I look at the crowd around me.

"Follow me down the stairs, but not too close. I will take these two outside, and tell the police not to shoot. Then when I call you can all come out, one at a time and slowly, we don't want anybody to panic out there."

They all nod. "You may freak them out a bit," one of them says with a faint voice and downcast eyes. I blush even more, knowing what he means.

I pick up the two villains and walk down the stairs. I open the front door slowly, and walks out carrying a hostage-taker in each arm. I do not know what the police thinks seeing a naked woman carrying two full-grown men in straight arms, but they do not shoot.

"Don't shoot," I shout. "I have neutralized them. The hostages will come out now, they are unharmed."

As on cue, the young men and women begin walking out the door. Four policemen step forward to receive them. Two others approach me. I fling the two villains on the ground, and take off. I do not wish to give away where I live, so I ascend maybe a few hundred feet before shooting off towards the north. I rapidly increase to supersonic speed, I assume that I am small enough to generate a significant sonic boom without shattering any windows - but it should make it easy to track me.

Once I am a few miles north of the city, I reduce my speed, and silently fly first west and then south again, back to my apartment. The TV is still running, showing myself emerging with the two villains. It looks quite weird. And for some reason, they have blurred my face.

I sit down in front of the TV.

"... most amazing development. The Internet has already baptized her 'Lady Nude' and claims that she is a real-life superhero, but in reality we still have no indication who she is, nor how she came to be in the building with the hostages. All hostages are accounted for, she is not one of them. And as to why she was naked, well your guess is as good as mine. I now hear that we have a new recording that somebody took with a cell-phone. Back to the studio."

"Yes, we have what we believe is pictures of her arrival, taken with a cell phone from the opposite side of the street, so the quality is not great."

The TV now shows the building from the front. Suddenly something pink falls from the sky behind the building.

"We will take this frame by frame to see if there is any clue."

Again, we see the building, now all motion frozen. In the next frame, a human shape is seen in the air above the building. One frame later it is halfway down, and in the third frame it almost hidden behind the building. The resolution is too low to show anything.

"Disappointing, but that it what you can expect from this distance."

"We actually just got another video, shot from an apartment across the street. Let us see it. Again, be aware that we are showing uncensored nudity."

I watch as they show me emerge from the building, now from a different angle. Again, my face is blurred.

"Why do we blur her face?" one of the journalists asks, "If we had to blur something I guess it should be something else."

"We don't. I don't know why her face is blurred."

I go to the bedroom to get dressed. All afternoon the TV runs in the background, and by bedtime I have seen seven videos of myself emerging naked from the building. All with my face blurred, it must be some part of my superpower. Many other TV stations now show the same videos, but with my private parts blurred as well. Several news channels reach the conclusion that this is all an elaborate hoax of some kind.

Next morning, the "Lady Nude Hoax" has all but faded from national news, while local stations still insist that the event was real. I go to work, hoping not to get recognized. My colleagues comment on the events of the night, one of them lived nearby and arrived on the scene just minutes after "Lady Nude" had departed. The rest of the day is uneventful.

Tuesday the weather is bad, heavy wind and showers. I go to work as usual, and the first few hours are as uneventful as ever. Then my boss comes running into the office that I share with seven other.

"Petrus Tower is on fire!"

I look at my colleagues, some of them have collaborators working in Petrus Tower. We all go to the lunch room, where the news channel is running.

Petrus Tower is an old building, and would not be called a "tower" today, it is only twelve stories high. Flames and smoke are emerging from the tenth floor. Journalists are filming from one of the taller buildings across the street, a group of people have taking refuge on the roof. An emergency helicopter is already arriving. We all watch as it attempt to land in the heavy wind. It aborts the first attempt, and comes back for a second try. This time the pilot takes the helicopter down, but right as he lands a heavy gust of wind moves the helicopter ten yards sideways. The rotor hits a water tank, ruining both helicopter and tank. We are all relieved when the crew emerges unharmed, but now two more people are caught on the roof of a burning building, and the odds for escaping seem slim.