A government agent

Maybe it was fate who played her hand, or it was just randomness that started it all.

Tiffany woke up with a start, sitting up in her bed and stretching her limbs. The morning light poured through the blinds into her neat room, illuminating the framed certificates on her wall. She smiled at her achievements from her years at the Academy of Extraordinary Affairs, reminding herself of how far she had gone. Her head turned to her alarm clock on her nightstand: 6:45 AM. Right on schedule, as always.

Her long dark hair fell across her face as she reached for her glasses beside her clock. Tiffany was nothing if not methodical, and her morning routine was sacred. She padded across the cool hardwood floor to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and splashed cold water on her face. As she reached for the towel, a thought slammed into her consciousness, its clarity undeniable: The world is coming to an end.

Tiffany froze, towel halfway to her face, water dripping down her chin. The thought had arrived fully formed, like a message rather than an idea. Was it even her thought? It felt like her thought, but also... foreign somehow.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. The familiar face looked back at her—olive skin, sharp eyes that missed nothing, the small scar above her left eyebrow from field training. As the Strategic Response Coordinator at GUARD (Global Unified Anomaly Response Division), the organization that supported the world’s superhero community, she was used to dealing with crises. But this… this felt different.

Returning to her bed, Tiffany sat on the edge of the mattress and closed her eyes, trying to sift through her thoughts to see if there were any more clues that made today special. It didn't make any sense, but it was the best lead she had so far.

The information came in flashes, like downloading files:

The laws of reality were breaking down
No one else is aware of the breakdown.
And finally, she has the ability to make reality bend to her will.

That last thought made her heart race, a mixture of fear and exhilaration coursing through her veins. The rational part of her brain (the part that had earned her the nickname “Protocol” at GUARD) told her this was impossible, perhaps a sign of stress or an anomalous mental attack. The other part, the part that usually led her to act first and question later, whispered: Test it.

Either she could disprove that thought and continue the day as usual, or prove it and give the world a fighting chance against whatever was coming.

Her hands trembled slightly as she held them out in front of her. “I have $1,000,” she whispered.

In the blink of an eye, a neat stack of hundred-dollar bills appeared in her hands. Tiffany gasped, nearly dropping the money. She ran her fingers over the bills. They felt real, smelled real. The serial numbers were unique, the paper texture seemed authentic.

“This is impossible,” she muttered, but the evidence was literally in her hands.

Emboldened, she decided to try something else. She glanced down at her chest, those perky little mounds that had always been... adequate. But adequate wasn’t going to cut it anymore. She wanted to feel them heavy, overflowing, begging to be touched. And now, she had the power to make that reality. “I have big breasts,” she said with more confidence.

Instantly, her chest surged forward, the flesh swelling, straining against the thin cotton of her tank top. It was like watching a water balloon being inflated, only this was her, and it was incredible. The fabric screamed in protest, the threads tearing apart as two glorious globes of pure, unadulterated lust threatened to burst free. And then, rip. The shirt gave way, the remnants clinging uselessly as her magnificent tits spilled out, bouncing with newfound weight.

Tiffany gasped, her free hand shooting out to cup one of the swollen mounds. It was heavy, hot, and very sensitive. She squeezed, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and a jolt of pure pleasure shot straight to her clit. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Exactly how she’d always dreamed they would be. She pinched a nipple, watching as it hardened into a tight, throbbing bud. God, she wanted to be sucked, licked, devoured.

But as she enjoyed feeling herself, her mind started to race. If she could do this, conjure money and inflate her tits to porn star proportions, what else was possible? And more importantly, what the hell was going on? Was this some kind of cosmic joke? Was she the key to understanding why reality was breaking down?

Reluctantly, she released her glorious new breasts, the aching need for more still throbbing between her legs. She placed the money on the bed, the soft rustle briefly filling the air as a new determination settled over her.

If the world really was going to shit, she needed to know why. And if she truly had the power to bend reality to her will, then maybe, just maybe, she could use it to save everyone. But first, she was going to need a new top. And maybe a good fuck.

What's next?

1. Tiffany has an interesting breakfast
2. Tiffany decides to test her powers more
3. A man having an interesting morning
4. A park cleaner notices something is off about the statues