Kebab

"It's totally unlike you as well, that's the worst part. You're usually such a good tenant, but that was just... Well, just keep it down in the future okay? The others are going to be on my ass, and I can't play favourites you know?"

"I'm sorry Fred, it won't happen again"

You are looking down at your bare feet, clad in the bathrobe you usually never wear. It was all you had at hand when you awoke from your neighbor and tenement caretaker pounding on your door.

She's a bit young for the job but someone in her family is something, so she's got room and board for free in return for primarily making sure no one makes too much noise and calling a plumber every once in a while.

"Yeah", she pauses for a second. "So like... is there someone in there with you or?"

"Oh, uh, no, just me I'm afraid". You try a sheepish grin but you're not very good at those.

"Hm. Sure sounded like you had someone else over. You know you're not allowed to have roommates, right? Even if you're... involved"

"Right! Yes, no, I mean, yes, I know that, there is no one here. I just... got carried away that's all"

"... alright. But you promise to keep it down in the future?"

"Absolutely. Shake on it?"

"Uh. Have you washed your hands?"

"Definitely", you hold out your hand. She hesitates, then gives it a very brief shake and withdraws.

"Okay, well, you have a nice Saturday now Richard"

You close the door behind her and look at your palm as the small patch of QEBP material fades. Waste not, want not.

You go over to the couch and lie down for a minute. You are so exhausted. Messing around with your nervous system isn't entirely risk free apparently. You feel like you've run a marathon, and you're sore in every muscle you have.

You feel a pang of worry and move to check in on Hannelore and Claire. You focus on the QEBP on the table.

"There's nothing wrong with being gay Lore. The heart wants what it wants"

"I'm not gay!"

Hannelore is in a kitchen, violently doing dishes, fully dressed again but with a pink hoodie on instead of the cardigan. Claire is leaning against a kitchen island behind her, naked but for her panties. She's eating handfuls of cereal straight from the package. They both look newly showered.

"I'm... I was just... allowing Him to work through me, doing his will..."

"Pretty sure that was you coming your brains out all over my tits before", Claire hefts one breast in her free hand and jiggles it.

"Don't- don't say that! Don't be vulgar! And put some clothes on!"

"Why? You've seen it all up close already. Real close."

You break the connection. You were worried you had hurt them or given them some nerve damage or something, but they seem fine. You try to let go of your tension. You close your eyes and drift off.

It's dark when you wake up again, your stomach growling loudly at you. Shit. You forgot that you'd removed your hunger before. When was the last time you ate?

You throw some clothes on, grab your keys and head out in search for food. There's a decent kebab place not far from here that's open 24/7 and you make your way there.

The streets are empty and quiet. This is primarily a residential area on the outskirts of town, with little in the way of nightlife on weekends. The kebab place is close to the bus stop, making it the only real social hotspot around.

You enter. The only customer is a middle aged man in a suit in front of an untouched plate of kebab and fries on the counter, staring at his phone. The proprietor, a tired-looking woman in an apron, looks up as the door opens and forces a smile.

You place an order, and while the woman busies herself in the back you sit down by the window and look at your hand. With a thought, the QEBP material emerges in your palm. You make it spread, covering your whole palm, then your fingers, your thumb. It moves down your wrist, but you make it pull back, shrink down to the middle of your palm again, where you close your fist around it.

You haven't spent any time dealing with this, thinking about it. What you can do, whether you have the right, or how much control you have. The QEBP reacted to your subconscious desires several times today, while you had used it to alter your own state of mind. Could you trust that?

Again it strikes you how little you care. This entire situation, how it came to you (it was a gift right? Yeah, a gift. From... someone), how natural it feels to use and **** it, how good you are at it. There's a moral aspect to this but... you wouldn't ever do it differently, would you? There wasn't any point where you would have made a different choice, even if you knew it was wrong. Like you know who you are, and who you are would do as he pleases. Is that so bad? And could you really say you've done something immoral anyway? Things have turned out alright so far.

You open your palm again, closing your eyes. A new eye appears on your hand, looking up at you. You look different from outside. More powerful than your self image, more confident. Like a man on a mission.

"Food's up!".

You close your fist and open your eyes, looking over at the counter with a smile. "Terrific".

You walk out of the shop with your food in a plastic bag and look around. Your stomach is threatening **** on the rest of your body if you don't get home and eat right now, but there's an idea you feel you need to test first.

You head on over in the opposite direction of your home, to the crosswalk next to the bus stop. The streets are still empty, most of the windows on the buildings around you unlit and closed. Sparse street lamps provide a soft yellow illumination and large patches of darkness between them. You move from patch to patch until you get to the crosswalk. There's a button for the lights.

You didn't bring your backpack or the QEBP, but you wonder how much you need it any more. You put up your index finger in front of the button and will the material to cover your finger tip. It turns black-purple, and you push it on the button. Focusing, you move your finger down, leaving a black streak on the button, which then changes color to match and becomes invisible.

"HEY!", a commanding female voice shouts behind you, "What do you think you're doing there?"

You spin around and see a fully uniformed police officer approach you from up the street. Shit.