Get your outfit, and meet some 'Supers'

Jemma leads you through the maze-like corridors to another room, where a bespectacled man sits next to a clunking, whirring machine.

"You must be Alpha {if Futa==true}Woman{else}Man{endif}, correct?"

"Oh, I don't mind, you can call me -"

Jemma steps in. "Your real name is now need-to-know information, Alpha {if Futa==true}Woman{else}Man{endif}. Your codename is your identity, for everything remotely linked to your abilities."

The man looks back to his computer, his small face not dislikeable, but drawn and thin. "Your outfit's nearly done. Dr Kim sent over your details, so it's tailored to your body and abilities. For example, you have some low-level invulnerability and healing, so I've not made you a helmet, opting for a simple face-mask instead. Given that you'll probably be a {if Futa==true}feminine icon as much as a heroine of action{else}role model as much as a man of action{endif}, aesthetics matter as much as function. I think you'll like the design. Ah, here it is."

The man lifts the lid of a chest-like compartment, revealing your costume: {if Futa==true}two thigh-high boots; latex short-shorts, that will leave nothing to the imagination; and a short-cut top. Accompanying it is a pair of gloves, and an elegant mask for the eyes - all in a delicious shade of maroon. The only break from the monocolour is the capital alpha (A) emblazoned in pure white across the chest.{else}a maroon two-piece with white highlights, with a capital alpha (A) emblemised in pure white across the chest. It comes with a pair of sturdy-looking maroon boots, a simple mask over the eyes, and a black utility belt.{endif}

{if Futa==true}"Fire-resistant, as strong as Kevlar, but flexible, with a soft inner layer for a comfortable fit," drawls the small man proudly. "Water-proof, dirt-repellent, and even protects your skin from toxins whilst remaining breathable."

You eye it critically. "Not bad," you muse, running a hand over the smooth material. "I do have one suggestion, though."

After listening to your idea, the tailor feeds the maroon top into one of the machines, which makes short work of your commands. Once the outfit is ready, Jemma ushers you into a changing room. You quickly pull on the garments, enjoying the feel of their cool texture against your skin: every part fits perfectly, hugging your many assets erotically. Finally, you place the mask over your eyes. Somehow the fabric sticks to your face, no matter how hard you shake your head, but when you use your hand, it comes off easily. Glancing in your mirror, the mask's stylised, flowing contours draw your gaze to a pair of captivating eyes smouldering back at you.

You emerge from the dressing room and stand confidently before your chaperone and tailor. Maroon leather-like boots hug your toned calves. Several captivating inches of your powerful thighs are exposed between the boots and the shorts, which somehow hide the shape of your oversized package. Your breasts press arousingly against the top, which hugs your underboob closely, ending an inch below your bust, your muscled abdomen on display. After hugging your chest, the top curves up to your neck, completely covering your throat but exposing your shapely shoulders. Your hair, as the light changes appearing chocolate one second, then ochre, then auburn, cascades freely down to your bared midback. Elbow-length gloves adorn your arms, completing the skin-tight maroon outfit.

Despite how erotic every part of your outfit may be, both members of your audience are most captivated by your special modification. Now the triangle within the white 'A' printed across your chest has been cut out, there is nothing to stop them ogling your fantastic cleavage. You want your outfit to tell the world that you truly are the alpha; what better way than to flaunt your sexual superiority?

The small tailor sits down, stunned, whilst Jemma walks towards you, as if in a trance. Without hesitation, you accept her kiss, her body melting into yours as you slip your tongue between her soft lips.

Somewhere nearby a clock chimes twelve, despite all odds breaking your chaperone out of her stupor. She steps back, touching a hand to her lips, bashfully avoiding eye contact.

"We'd... we'd better go introduce you to the others," she says shakily. You follow her out of the building, emerging blinking into the midday light.{else}"Pretty sweet," you nod appreciatively.

"Fire-resistant, as strong as Kevlar, but flexible, with a soft inner layer for a comfortable fit," drawls the small man proudly. "Water-proof, dirt-repellent, and even protects your skin from toxins whilst remaining breathable."

"Is it machine washable?" you joke.

"Yes," he answers seriously.

Jemma cheerfully points to a door. "Change in that dressing room, then we'll go introduce you to the others."

You do as she says, and are soon amazed by how snug the fit is, yet perfectly comfortable, with full range of motion. You try to pinch through the fabric, but can't feel a thing. It really is like armour! you think. Glancing at the mirror, you admire how the shape of your 8-pack and pecs can be seen through the costume, the strength of your arms and legs evident to the eye. The boots go on easily - a perfect fit - and finally, you place the mask over your eyes. Somehow the fabric sticks to your face, no matter how hard you shake your head, but when you use your hand, it comes off easily.

You emerge from the dressing room to meet Jemma's admiring gaze.

"That looks very good on you," nods the blonde, biting her lip.

"Thanks. It fits great," you remark, to a satisfied humph from the tailor. "How much does this thing cost?"

"SPERM is paying for everything, so you don't need to worry," explains Jemma as she steers you back out of the room.

"It's gotta be over a grand, right?" you pry. "Maybe more than five thousand?"

"Yes and yes," admits Jemma. "But I don't know the exact number, and it doesn't really matter. You just focus on what you need to focus on."

She opens a door, and the two of you emerge blinking into the midday light.{endif}

"We'll stop at the dormitories first, and I'll quickly show you around, before we quickly head off to lunch. You're all in the same block, but we've put the girls in the first half and the boys in the back half of the corridor, so the toilets and showers are separated by gender."

"No ensuites?" you ask teasingly.

"No, but I promise the communal ones are excellent," smiles Jemma. "Here's your ID card - you can use it to get in and out."

You swipe the plastic rectangle against the reader, and the dormitory door clicks open. You push it the rest of the way, to reveal two girls chatting in the hallway. One is Rachel, now dressed in a beautiful costume that makes you instantly think of a bird. Its pale brown, white and purple colours contrast perfectly with her bright blue eyes, and it hugs the mounds of her chest in a very enticing way.

The other is a stranger. A bizarre, yet somehow gorgeous stranger.

"Oh, hi Jemma!" she says, her voice sweet but relaxed.

"This is Alpha {if Futa==true}Woman{else}Man{endif}," your chaperone introduces you. "You already know Sparrow - and this is Foxgloves."

"Hey, pleased to meet you." The stranger sticks out a green hand{if Futa==true}, eyeing your stature with an unreadable expression{endif}. You shake it uncertainly. "Just ignore the skin, it's a side effect of my mutations." Foxgloves shakes back her jet black hair, and leans back against the wall. "Chloroplasts and photosynthesis. Not as exciting as growing vines and stuff from my body, but I have all of them, so what the hell, I might as well own it."

"Cool by me," you shrug with a{if Futa==true} friendly smile{else} crooked smile{endif}. She really is gorgeous - and her dark orange eyes are kind of mesmerising. "My ability makes people calm down and relax. Or have a good time, if that's what's needed." You wink mischievously. "But yeah, I'm also strong and tough and heal well."

"Just wait till you meet Ultragirl." Foxgloves wrinkles her nose. "Babe, we're all strong and tough round here."

Rachel clears her throat loudly.

The green-skinned girl sighs at her. "Sparrow, darling, you can throw a man with your mind. You don't need super-strength too."

Jemma steps forwards. "Girls, I'm gonna show Alpha {if Futa==true}Woman her room, then she'll{else}Man his room, then he'll{endif} meet you at lunch. Cool?"

"Sure thing," shrugs Foxgloves, and steps back to allow you to pass.

As you proceed down the corridor, you whisper to your chaperone, "Do you know why..."

"Why her skin's green? Dr Kim said there must have been some rogue plant DNA mixed into her bloodstream when she was a foetus, that the neutron storm caused to be incorporated. How it got there is a whole other question, but more likely than not the answer is homeopathic medicine. Anyway, you're just in here."

You swipe your card against the reader, and the wood-panelled door slides open to reveal a room identical to the one you saw earlier: a comfortably-sized double bed, with all the usual furniture, plus a washbasin.

"It's not the penthouse, but it's pretty nice," muses Jemma, pointing out various things to you. "I'd be happy to spend a night or two here." She catches your eye, her lips curling, before she continues. "We got your parents to send you some of your things, but anything you can think of has been provided for you. Why don't I show you the bathroom quickly, then we can get some food in you."

You follow the blonde back into the hallway, and are almost run into by a young guy walking down the corridor.

"Sorry {if Futa==true}miss{else}man{endif}, didn't see you there," says the stranger quickly. "Woodpecker's the name, pleased to meet you."

"...Alpha {if Futa==true}Woman{else}Man{endif}, the same to you," you reply, rather taken aback by the speed of the man's words.

"Great, can't wait to get to you know you man! But I gotta dash. Adios!"

You watch Woodpecker hurry down the corridor, his suit consisting of a bright red streak down the middle flanked by black and white stripes.

"What's his deal?" you ask Jemma.

"Well he's close to invulnerable, and can deliver punches at Mach 8."

"Super-speed?" you suggest.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" the blonde smiles wryly. "But for whatever reason it's only his arms that have enhanced speed and strength. And yeah, Woodpecker's always that ADHD. He's a good guy though."

You peek into the {if Futa==true}ladies'{else}men's{endif} toilets and showers - nothing special, nothing terrible - then head to the mess hall.