The mirror

I put up no resistance at all until I see what she has in mind: The mirror. It fills me with dread… but the dread is largely overwhelmed by the residual pleasure. I still voice an objection, "I know what I look like…."

"Intellectually you know, yes. But acceptance is missing, and you've been getting worse very quickly. We need to deal with this now."

This is the president's suite (it's labeled on the maps). That mirror takes up an entire wall, much like you might find at a dance studio. It shows everything, unmercifully. I close my eyes like a petulant child. Alice, however, has a solution.

She tickles my body's neck.

I didn't know I was ticklish. But it seems I am. And as soon as I open them, I lock eyes with the body. That face. I hate that face. It looks like a working girl advertising. Big, puffy lips. A tiny nose. Long, dark lashes.

Alice breaks my chain of thought, "You’re beautiful, sweetness. Look into your eyes and say, 'I'm beautiful.'"

"She looks like a streetwalker."

"Not she. And you didn't choose this, but you can make the most of it. You’re beautiful, sweetness. Look into your eyes and say, 'I'm beautiful.'"

I can't do that. It hurts. "Noone will ever take her as anything more than eye candy, a trophy to be taken."

"Not her. You are far more, and can change their perceptions with your actions. You’re beautiful, sweetness. Look into your eyes and say, 'I'm beautiful.'"

I whisper, "I'm beautiful." This hurts.

"Again."

I manage… close to a normal speaking voice, "I'm beautiful." Why is she making me do this?

"Again."

"I'm beautiful." I'm crying. Why am I crying?

"Again."

"I'M BEAUTIFUL." And… I finally feel it. I break down sobbing, collapsing to the floor, and Alice, still as nude as I am, sits down and rocks me in her arms, folding me up in her warm, soft wings. "You’re OK sweetness, you're OK, you're past the worst of it."

My voice cracks, "There’s more?"

She chuckles, "There’s always more. You're not wrong that the world will have certain expectations based on your appearance, and will try to **** you to conform to them. You're going to need a strong sense of self to fight that tide, and that starts by accepting what happened. You didn’t choose it, it’s not fair, and you will never replace what you lost. This is you now. No, you're not the same you of yesterday, or last week, or last month. But whatever happened, happens or will happen, you're still you."

I laugh through the tears, "Where’d you learn to do that? I can't imagine it's in any psychology handbook."

She looks a bit wistful, "I first did it for an old army buddy who had taken a hit from napalm in a fight. He was horribly scarred and what he had left could barely be called a face."

He? "So you're bi?”

She shakes her head, "Not at all. I gave a precious gift to a dear friend who was in dire straits. It cost me a lot. An act of love to be sure, but there was no lust from my side. It worked - quite well, he eventually landed a bride and is living a life of leisure with three kids over in Idaho on military disability. Frank's not rich but Uncle Sam didn't leave him out to dry; he gets by well enough. Spends a lot of time fishing. He called me just a week ago to reminisce." She pauses, "You were a lot more fun to help. Not gonna lie."

Wait… "Does that mean we're one and done?"

She hums for a bit, considering, "Only if you want to be. I'm between girlfriends at the moment, and you hit most of the checkboxes for being worth the time to give it a go."

"Most?"

"You’re completely broke with no job. But that’s a recent development you'll be able to fix soon enough, and you have extenuating circumstances. Giant, round, soft, sexy extenuating circumstances. Four of them." She wiggles her eyebrows.

I laugh at that, "Learn to count," and slap MY rear, causing a visible shockwave to traverse from one side to the other, then jiggle for a little while.

“Right, six,” Alice laughs, “Anyway, I have a work appointment in a couple hours, and I have some prep work to do. Meet you back at the house after?”

“Yeah, sure,” I nod, “ you have your own Warp capability, and have been down here, so you can easily come and go now.”

She considers, “Yes, I can…” she pauses, “...but not out of your arms. How are you doing that?”

I shrug, “Antimagic and antitech aura, limited to a very short range,” my square, “so you can go once you let go.”

“But it doesn't interfere with your magic,” it's a statement, not a question.

“Correct, I'm immune,” I confirm.

She whistles, “and tech too?”

I shrug, “it won't stop a simple bullet…” my DR + Hardness should stop such a thing up to about the main gun of a tank, and Starmantle will take care of that, “but while I can use my cell phone, someone planting a tracking device in my bag… my purse, I suppose… will find it doesn't broadcast, and if someone throws a primed grenade at me, it won't go off under my feet. The shrapnel and blast wave could hit me if it went off five feet away, though.”

She nods, “Can I get that?”

I shake my head, “No, the needed immunity isn't something I can just hand out, and without it, you'd be stuck unable to use your magic or anything technological… and still subject to people simply shooting you while being unable to fire your gun or use your phone.”

“We can't have it all…” she kisses me, “...unless we're you, apparently. All right…” the beautiful woman reluctantly gets off of me, “...see you later.”

I choose not to counterspell as she casts, and she vanishes, still nude. Chuckling, I get dressed, putting on a newly-created outfit that leaves my essentials covered, but shows off my unique assets, and I head back up above ground as well.