Write Your Reality

So, imagine this if you will: you receive a gift for your thirteenth birthday, it's a relic, a fountain pen to be specific. You end up getting a poke while taking it out of the protective casing, allowing some of the red gooey stuff to saturate the tip, soaking the innards of the ink container too when returned later. Not too terrible an event, other than the possible damage to an incredibly old object and the replaceable ink.

Add on top of that a simple fact: the pen is secretly magical. You weren't aware prior to handling it, and only afterwards found out said magics come into play. With blood soaked into the metals the main enchantment activates, causing an aura to consistently emanate from your body for the remainder of your life.

The aforementioned aura had numerous effects of its own, but at the head of the charge your own superhuman physique. After it condensed you down a lot it began adding inches to your height, until you went from around average to above, in all classes - height, weight, lift class and every major category of judgement otherwise.

Despite a modest and toned body, suddenly you can toss a car. Not without difficulty of course, but does that really change that point much? Throwing a car is throwing a car, right?

Those days were years ago, and growth happens over time, doesn't it? You're finding car throws are easier and easier, suddenly you're jumping to your roof when you need to get down the neighbor kids' frisbee. Mile runs are finished in about a minute and a quarter, plus you're actually starting to wonder if you actually need to breathe considering 36 minutes is a little on the long side.

Alaric Zaros, that's who actually experienced all these things and more. The young man of only eighteen now was basically a superhero where his friends were concerned, and had even done a few heroic things in his life. Once he had used the enhanced form he received to save a woman and her children from a car that was on fire.

Admittedly though, he had utilized his perfected coordination and seeming limitless luck on a few occasions to change his life even more for the better. A father who was at work 90 percent of the time or beating him when he was home, always hungry to the point of being underweight and on the smaller size most of his life.

His physical size was tripled now with a bank account most adults would save for years to never reach.

Alaric pondered what his mother would think of him. Would she be happy to have a son that donated five figure sums regularly? A progeny that can count to hundred in a dozen languages or who once beat the world champion in an under the table chess game?

"Galina," Alaric called from behind the desk in his study, "can you please grab me a bottle of water? Getting a bit parched."

When you can somehow manipulate the odds at high stakes gambling, or on those times when at a racetrack somehow figure the most minute details that will factor into a winning horse, what do you do with your days? Alaric learned most often considering his mind couldn't be filled apparently. Otherwise time was spent with enjoyable hobbies.

Now though he was actually doing research. Hours into said studying without a sign of slowing, Alaric exhibited literally none of the traditional issues of it. His goal was simple, well two goals: first finding his mother.

One thing Marshall wanted most for his son, besides to beat the shit out of him as often as time allowed, was to drill his head with lies about his mother. Such as Iris being a pureblood Mexican national in one story, but a Nicaraguan mutt in another.

He once told Alaric that Iris had left them to go fuck every man in Mexico.

With millions in an ever increasing bank account, this seemed a good thing to focus on for a time. Eventually one has to admit it's a waste of the money though, considering the private investigators never seemed to know more than basic details. Plus he was pretty sure if he could find those records of her birth he looked for, then family would follow. They know her location, he was sure.

"Yes!" Ecstatically Alaric jumped to his feet, fist pumping the air as he did, "I knew I'd get it done!" The name of a clinic he discovered had come through. Apparently yes, his mother was born there, Iris was the name chosen by her father but Gonzalez was her mother's maiden.

Only mere hours more and everything necessary would be in place.

Meeting Galina at the door to the study, "Come now Galina, I need you to gather both of us at least a week of outfits."

At that he passed the buxom brunette, who happened to be built more like an anime character than something real, and so it could sometimes be difficult in small spaces like that. He couldn't care less, enjoying the feel of her soft flesh and her thigh pressing against his thick cock for the quick moment it did so.

"Of course, Master Alaric." She bowed a bit the second she was provided the space, "But don't worry, my outfits are easy enough to pack."

He rolled his eyes at this. She refused to own other clothes, just the varying alterations applied to the traditional black and white French maid outfit. Long stories can be quite long, simply enough though she was property in her own eyes. He tried to dissuade this but she preferred it.

She had been bought as a child herself to free her from servitude. Living a life of being trained a certain way led to nothing more being possible. The same way a dog can either learn to be man's friend or man's pet, she wasn't taught to be an individual but to belong to one.

Galina Guarza, though now Galina Zaros thanks to legally changing it, would always need her Master's love and happiness like a fix. He couldn't change that.

Current times saw her F cup breasts held tight and thrust upward thanks to her outfit. Corset drawn tight with her brassiere only able to reach just below the areola, more a prop to hold the tits up than to cover them in any way. The skirt she wore would see him facing charges of obscenity if they left without changing.

A shifting in his slacks drew her gaze, wherein she licked her lips. Were it not that he purchased her, she would still have sought to obey, to bow before this man's magical cock. It wasn't simply the largest, because a few at the Academy had bore bigger tools. Despite that and ignoring the huge number of individuals she had been made to service in her many lessons, Alaric's cock would make her quake so hard it could knock down shelves.

"One day, my dear, one day." Alaric winked at his woman, then turned to walk down the hall. His earliest large invest, well without intent of sale anyway, was the penthouse. Eight bedrooms, four living rooms, two dens, top of the Tower. Full package inclusion as well.

Additional rooms added for a few plus modifications to raise the actual Tower eventually, allowing himself a fourth floor. It was here he put his library and study, near to that a guest room.

"Gym time, love. I will see you in a bit." Alaric left the apartment not long later. The building had a full suite gymnasium with an included workout room and other amenities. While he worked out and she prepped their travel gear, a flight was already being set in motion at a runway nearby.

In the elevator he sat silent, now dressed in loose basketball shorts and a t-shirt, he made sure to do some small stretches despite it basically being pointless. One time to win a bit he had maxed out every weight the Tower had, without issues. It freaked the audience out a bit.

Yet working out calmed his nerves. Repetitive motions with no real meaning. Currently he needed it more than ever. Maybe the young man would meet his mother soon enough, for the first time in his memories. Let's say that could cause someone to be antsy.

Lost in the motions in just minutes after leaving, he silently did deadlifts. Step to step, motion followed motion. Every workout was a routine now, carved into memory.

When he was on his back under the bar, benching weights, Alaric hummed along with the beat of the song blasting in his ears. All six feet five inches of his length fit the bar, not without difficulty admittedly. His shoulders were a bit wide for the stance this set wanted to offer, but he wouldn't complain.

Just as he was getting into this new set though he was suddenly racked with pain. This was something of a new sensation considering his durability. Exploding apart atom by atom would see him dead soon but then of course obviously that's not what was actually happening.

That was just in his mind. Just like the pain. Writhing like he was experiencing the pains of childbirth multiplied tenfold and all over his body, Alaric tried to shout out his agony. No sound came out other than weak gasps.

Swift as it came it left just so. Squinting his eyes tight as they had been a second prior Alaric waited for the return. What had happened? He was just sitting there like normal, when boom, he's on the ground in the fetal position. Plus the man wasn't just some every man.

"Sir, are you okay?" A voice asked through the remaining haze in his brain. It was feminine.

"Go away, dear God, go away." He muttered, attempting to not move his lips or anything else as he spoke. Hands on his head, body on its side. That's how he would die.

"Oh. What's that..." The voice had been in motion, headed his way, but by the end it hesitated. Next the sounds of small feet pounding closer.

Apparently he was so caught in trying to keep ready for his pain to return, Alaric hadn't noticed his cock was out. Admittedly his shorts had only just barely been long enough to hide his eight inch flaccid penis. A warm socked foot was currently pressing the shaft to his thigh and rubbing the length.

Finally attentive he looked down then up. The foot was real, covered in soccer style thigh length socks, which definitely must be a special brand or something as he always heard thick thighs didn't fit stockings well. Boy did these ones fit perfect. Like a second skin and an unblemished deep ocean blue, it drew the eye, then again her ministrations...

Well he would be looking anyway.

His gaze traveled to a set of beautiful b-cup tits, held in place with a sports bra that was covered in starfish designs. Beyond was hair so red it made blood wish it could blush, and rich green eyes. An hourglass would be jealous of her form, and her beauty was elite.

Who was she and why was she stroking his cock? And on that note, if he inquired would she stop her actions? Cause if so it would be rude to do, so he should probably just let her have her way.

"What are you doing?" Alaric asked, his voice slightly deeper thanks to the desire flooding his system.

She held up a hand to use sign language to reply, <I am playing with your cock, isn't it nice? Would you like me to stop? Sorry, you're smell just made me need you.>

The potential for this to go farther drove him to heights, all the while he wished he had the ability to see through clothing. Her tight green trainer shorts, short enough to be illegal and expose flesh that didn't need to be seen, blocked just a bit too much. Then again, he honestly was sure he wouldn't see what he wanted, thanks to the thighs so thick being consistently rubbed together as she now pressed her foot in much longer strokes as he noted his cock had grown...

To at least over a foot. He could tell just by sight. Shock bubbled now, mirroring the lust. What had changed now? It was then he took in his position properly. For a man who fell directly to his side, he noted his torso wasn't able to line up like it had.

Like the last time, he had grown. If he had to predict it he was pretty sure an additional foot had been added to his length. On top of that his muscles had grown a noticeable amount.

"Who are you?" Alaric growled a bit in his throat, enjoying the soft silky touch of her socks against his shaft now.

<My friends call me Arrie. But they say it like are-ee.> She gave a smile that lit the room brighter than a secondary sun, cocking her head to the side when she did, <I love that you can sign, it was such a cool surprise! Not many can!>

It was then he chose to stop speaking, <I love to learn, and am fluent in about a dozen languages. One is American Sign Language.> With a sigh he continued, knowing it was nerdy, <Technically when I learn a language I also adopt it's signs. So if I can speak it, I can sign it.>

This made her pause, her eyes wide with surprise. Something about this woman touched a bit of his subconscious, getting a hold and never releasing. What was it about her that was so intriguing (shut up, he means other than the obvious)? Her hair was damned near impossibly red, eyes a shade he had never seen before. She was a sexy mute. What detail could he toss out that would-

Arrie. His eyes narrowed a bit. Arrie seemed.. it didn't fit. He wasn't being racist or bigoted, but the name didn't fit. It wasn't her real name, so why did she get called it. He had already deduced it. She was nicknamed after the mermaid from Disney.

It was adorable, he had to admit. She seemed like she was maybe twenty-five, so just a few years older than himself, but her constant smiles, cute bangs and ponytail, just her entire aesthetic shouted of a younger age. He had heard some women liked to emulate their youths, preferring to be called "little" even.

It made him wonder if she was indeed a little.

Rising to a seated position, he noted his phone had received a few messages. A glance and then he was rising to his much more massive than normal nearly seven and a half feet, unintentionally putting his cock literally in line of sight for Arrie. She bit her lip and whimpered.

Offering her a wink, he murmured, "Penthouse 2 and 3 are mine. Come by as frequently as you feel like. I am leaving for a few days but as soon as I am back you'll know cause I answer." A full grin sent her way just as she licked the head that was extended well past the bottom of his shorts, but he continued and stepped away with a turn.

In the elevator he had to duck, at his door he ducked, but luckily the layout of his apartment let him walk freely. The instance he entered into the bedroom however he immediately spotted Galina and... Well they literally left holes in the walls with the force his much more massive form brought out. She didn't complain.

Around two hours later they were in flight, and then it was several more before Mexico. Guess what? More hours thanks to driving to the small city he had been referred. Thankfully he had money to help, cause every moment was filled with research that literally didn't cease despite travel and more. WiFi was everywhere to the best degree if you have cash.

About halfway through he suddenly shrunk to his reputable six foot eight. It was odd to say the least, as pressure relieved itself despite being so massive actually not hurting.

In regards to that though, he had been studying heavily what might cause it. Being one of those people able to say without worry that magic was real, this was where he began to look first. Different angles always reveal different details. At a glance it had been believed the pen and inkwell were dissociated, but when you treat it all as symptomatic, you find a single main theme: "makers".

Some were found to be engineers while a few had even been designers. All seemed to be based on the same talent, just approached by different means: bend the Laws of Reality. So he had been forced to make a connection between his heirloom and the lore.

A catalyst to start with leading to powers that would either benefit reality or condemn it.

What made little sense however, was stepping into the realm of time-frames. He hadn't touched a thing that would, rather any he figured should, cause him to evolve further that day. The main sticking point still remained; he was evolved at one point, when his initial transition occurred, and a second time today.

Partway across the skies of the Midwest, Alaric put two and two together. Ozan, a man who likely achieved divinity, thousands of years ago in South California, off the coast of the Pacific. Legend would tell he was a shaman that held great sway with nature, therefore magix. Greater than any living being too. An individual more powerful than the Host Tribunal? A Djinn? Dragoda? All beings made of raw magical potential. So how was he that capable and still no more than a flesh and blood human?

For the remainder of his time in the air, Alaric quietly typed. Already housing potential to be a true prodigy prior to his enhancements, others found that nose to the grindstone research was now something easy for Alaric. I mean as easily as Andre the Giant would win in an arm wrestle match with a toddler.

In the numerous years since becoming more, the young man had learned that a powerful mind could contain a significant amount. Limited though, making it therefore not adequate for his needs. His mind was so much that he had never forgotten a detail since awakening, genuine to the word a true eidetic.

A glance let his mind absorb all he needed from a page in a book for example. To debunk a feature of said book reading - it isn't like having the information all there word for word then just calling it to the fore. It's like... Having the book in his mind.

I know. You would feel like that explanation wasn't necessary. Yet even his own friends all believe he simply has the answers without buffering, loading or whatever you want to call it.

Yeah, the full page was uploaded to his mind. Sure his mind was far faster than most, so obviously he could do what was wanted of him. A good example being: find a book you know by heart. One you would preach, swear and promise you never detail.

Have someone tell you a page, line and word, by associating them with a number. Before going for verification, what word is it? In his youth Alaric had played a version focused on the Christian Bible, in a game with his youth pastor.

He had been atrocious. Attention deficit made things difficult to hold onto mentally back then. And yet as simple as it would be to sing his favorite song, Alaric also now knew every word in the Bible, Koran, dead sea scrolls... Things normal people get bored of.

A millionaire that sprung from the wood works, gaining fame and fortune of peaks unknown in such a short time. Literally zero on the first day. Yet his skills had created pioneering moves in antivirus software, coding add-ons for mainstream operating systems - Alaric also hacked the nation's defenses just to reveal its weak points.

They hated that buying his code was simply the fastest, most efficient means to solve the crack.

His money was earned. Quickly enough to draw attention, but not to much considering he had always liberally given it away. Excess is that, exces.

Anyway as research would show, the young Ozan lived for several hundred years and seemed to will whatever he wished into existence. He could alter laws and history if he wished. Whenever he would speak of it Ozan would speak of the Pens. So the one pen currently was the one that activated the connection to the magics. It was other pens that enabled the best of abilities -

If one believed that sort of thing.

Landing took ages for someone wanting to go, getting into the car and heading away though? Took even longer. Nearly an hour later and finally they were on the road. Apparently the Mexican government had wondered why a private plane needed to land in basically nowhere.

The car was home to his nap. Simply slumping back into the seat let him feel it's warmth. Moments later he was walking the beach somewhere in his mind.

A small shack really, not more and not less. It had property around it that could be said was a yard, including small tufts of grass breaking the monotony of the desert. The house itself was maybe eight feet tall, seemed to be technically a single bedroom home, and falling apart. Literally.