Nothing. I have new plans.

I called the office, telling them I would need one final day off but I had a feeling this would be the final time. I wanted to test a few theories and if they panned out, I was going to quit the next day.

The day before, I had withdrawn from my account on the way home after my night out, and, brandishing my small pile of £50 notes, I had sat down with a block of paper and begun my first trial. I melted down a bank note to its gelatinous state and then reset it. I did it again and again, at least ten times, getting a feel for it, trying to see if I could understand its composition or something and I felt something tugging at my mind after the final try. Then the paper's turn. I melted ten sheets down at the same time, thought, 'reset,' and they returned, all individually intact. I knew that if I simply transformed the paper into bank notes I would end up with the original block of paper before long so how could I do something more permanent? The idea had struck me this morning and I wanted to try it.

I sat in front of the money and the sheets again but this time I piled them all up together, real money and plain, standard sheets of paper, stacked haphazardly on the table. This time, I melted everything down together and reset them again, all at once. I could feel that string tugging away again in my brain. 'Reset' was just an idea, a way for me to communicate what I was thinking out loud but it wasn't what the process actually was. Somewhere inside me, there was a way to store complex data, information so complex that it could return a unique object back to its original state without me thinking about it. I was going to tap into that. I had been approaching the whole thing from the perspective of control. Once my control of the matter lapsed, it always returned to its natural state. My idea was to instead make the transformation its natural state and abandon the idea of 'resetting' it later. I reset the pile of materials. They returned to their original forms and in the same order in the stack. 'I can do this,' I thought. Trial two, still a messy pile, I melted them down and thought about how it was all just the same thing in the pile, no differences. Rather than changing the paper into notes, they were all originally notes so why would I need to change them? I felt an adrenaline rush as the mass before me reformed, a tidy pile of money worth at least a month's worth of pay at my dead end job. I checked the top note then lifted the second. Oops. They were literally the same. Same issue number and everything. 'Damn it!' I shouted and slammed my fist down onto the table. The pile fell over sideways. I took a moment to let off some steam then went back to work. 'OK, not exactly the same.'

I tried to reset the materials, and they went into their oozing form before coming back as a pile of money, no plain paper in sight. I laughed in surprise at the small victory. Permanence of transformation. Now, for the coup né grace, I studied all the bank notes I had in my pocket and even researched how the issue numbers were made. I melted them down and applied my new knowledge of money minting then watched as my hard work paid off. Before me stood a pile of used notes, each with a different number and small imperfections that only occasionally repeated themselves across the batch. I was pleased with my final touch to make the money seem even more realistic and had thought of eight or nine ways I could bend or slightly damage the notes. I ruffled them, adding more imperfections and therefore detail to the illusion. I had earned a month's salary in about an hour. I tried resetting again, and I was rewarded with the pile of money once more. I quickly got to work. I grabbed any paper I could find around the house as well as the block of wood and a bunch of plastic wrapping and a few old magazines. It didn't have to be paper but that helped me visualize the end result more easily. One more hour of work and I had a neat row of stacks of money. Each stack was a month's pay and I had 24. This brought me to a grand total of nearly £50000. I jumped and hopped and danced around the room. I waited until four in the afternoon meaning I left had the notes for eight hours, including four hours of training on and off. I even had a nap in the middle to catch up with lost sleep from the weekend. There they were, upon the table, still representing more money than I had ever laid eyes on before. Then I had an idea. I gathered half of the money into a single pile and tried carrying it. I picked up a chair from around the table and lifted it. The money was very light compared to the chair. I laughed an evil laugh.

I weighed the chairs and approximated the table itself, too, around 50 kg in total when I added the small table from the other room and the chair from my bedroom. I transformed all the furniture into stacks of money. I did the maths. I had around £2,000000. 'Two million,' I gasped. 'Two. Fucking. Million.' I could barely control my excitement. I would never have to work again. Ideas rushed through my mind; I could forge payment documents and even IDs then exchange money with myself in different countries under different names. I could 'invest' in things that didn't exist, all the money going to my new, fake accounts. I could open my own company and 'invest' in things to spend it legally, pay myself a huge salary and I would get away with it.

I wasn't even sure my thoughts were coherent at this stage, so I put them to one side and danced to my car. An old song got stuck in my head and I blasted it through my tinny car speakers. 'You're gonna make it to the best time of your life! Don't stop at the top!' I shouted, along with the singer. I rocked out as I drove, my wallet overflowing with money. The beat of the drums and heavy guitars shaking the car. The weirdest thing was that the first goal I had in mind was replacing the missing furniture. I just went mad for a while. I got to the furniture store and ordered a new set of furniture, much nicer than the ones I had had before, now money wasn't an object. I paid in cash and set the delivery date for the next day. I drove to the local shopping centre and went on a rampage buying new clothes and suits. I had to go to the same shop a few different times disguised as different people, so I could buy suitable sizes for my many transformations, tailored to fit each one perfectly. I had never owned such a nice suit or outfit, let alone so many of them. Next, I bought a new watch and finally looked at my crappy old banger of a car and decided to get a new one. Rather than buying a new one there and worrying about the paperwork in a dealership, I found someone selling my dream car online that was as good as new, according to their ad. It was less than a year old and when I contacted them they were available the next morning. I went to bed that night after transforming more furniture and appliances into money, ready to buy replacements soon after. I kept the fridge and my bed, but they would go soon, too. I slept like a baby that night.

I got up early and took a train, first class, to my destination, dressed to the max in my new suit and looking very handsome in the sleeker transformation I had used to pick up Elody. There it was, the sports car of my dreams, a large L logo on the front and a black spoiler on the back. It was dark grey but shiny, silver and mean looking. The owner looked sad to see it go but after we looked at it and gave it a test drive together, I signed the paperwork and was ready to leave. The massive 5.0L engine roared to life like a hell beast and I flew away £55000 lighter than before. What a rush. I sped to work and enjoyed every moment of the drive, the deep vibrations like a dragon beneath me.

I arrived at the office and typed up my resignation letter after clocking in. The arse hole I called my boss had no idea what had hit him when I sauntered through his doors. The cute PA outside still hadn't picked her jaw up off the desk after seeing me and ushering me in. Her large breasts had been inspiration many a lonely night but today I barely noticed them. 'Thanks for everything,' I said, a big grin on my face as my sarcasm sank in and I watched his wide eyes get wider. 'You won't be hearing from me again.'

On my way out he called after me but I just ignored him completely. I purposefully walked past a few other people, people who had given me hell to make themselves feel better and then I was gone. Out. I had work to do. I spent the rest of the day setting up a consultation business then began planning my empire. That evening, while taking a break from the action, my phone buzzed and I saw I had a message. It was from the busty secretary at work! 'You were great today. I want to hear your story. Can we meet?'

'Of course we can meet,' I exclaimed out loud. But I wrote, 'Hey Molly, sounds like fun. Give me an address and I'll meet you at 8.' Her message arrived just a few seconds later with an address about 30 minutes away by car in a wealthier part of town. I was already picturing her naked, bouncing on my dick. The main problem I was facing with her was that I would have to go as my real self. Well, with a few additions, of course. That could be difficult, but I was happy to try.

I got ready at seven then drove away at seven thirty. I was there just before eight and waited before knocking on the door.