Back With New Clothes

When I re-entered the hotel, this time it was through the front door, wearing expensive smart casual clothes - courtesy of Victoria's credit card, and with nearly a wardrobe's worth of new clothes in bags. Those were quickly dumped with the doorman, along with instructions to take them to my - well 'our' - room and a generous tip.

If I wasn't paying then I was happy to live the high life.

I strode in riding on a high. Victoria could wait. Around the hotel I could sense pulses and they were all calling to me. If I was going to find out more about my powers, I'd need to find others beyond Victoria and Holly.

The nearest was below, seemingly one floor down. I rode the lift down, enjoying the way staff looked at me, nodding and smiling like I belonged. Like I wasn't a loser, a fired shop worker barely scraping by.

The doors open and I walked toward where the pulse seemed to be. It was pretty much stationary, only moving around slightly. I tried focusing and it formed into a face...not one I recognised though.

Long dark hair and bold eyebrows contrasted with bright blue eyes. She was pretty but it wasn't just that fact making my cock slowly throb. Her face was covered in expertly applied make up, just that little bit too thick and even to appear like a real human. Her lips were plump pillows with a light lipstick on, a bee stung shape that implied some heavy use of fillers. Thick, long fake eye lashes half covered her eyes, giving her a sleepy look.

Her face alone screamed hot-trash.

As I got closer the image took further shape. She was moving, breathing hard...then I could see she was in gym clothes, working out. Not just any gym clothes though - tight light blue leggings hugged her skin, hiding nothing. Her top was bare but for a matching sports bra, barely holding her large breasts.

Her skin had a glowing tan hue and her body was incredible - toned but light on overt muscle, wide hips and a tight waist leading up to her almost certainly fake tits.

Through some more doors and suddenly I could actually see her - and the gym she was in. Behind a large pane of glass was the hotel's impressively large space, full of workout machines and weights. She was currently stretching, preening her body in a way that seemed calculated to call out to men. A couple of people were each doing their own thing at different parts of the gym - a woman running and a man pushing weights, trying not to stare too hard and failing.

I could feel the pulse centred on the woman I'd sensed and as I got closer to the glass, it was like her name became known to me - Nicole Thorne. In a flash I was pulling my phone out and searching.

Instagram was the first hit and it seemed like she was big on there. Picture after picture of her in various states of undress were on there, along with the occasional attempt at a classy dress that just came off looking trashy. "Definitely fake", I whispered to myself, thinking of her tits and then chuckling a little, thinking I could be talking about her every aspect. For one thing, it seemed fairly common for her to come to the gym with a full face of makeup and seemingly and hours worth of prep. A natural beauty she was not.

Who knows what she looked like under all that? She seemed like a typical quite pretty woman who'd worked hard at her body, had a surgeon do the rest and was now selling her high maintenance and unreal image to the world. Don't mistake that for criticism though - she'd made the most of what she had. Alongside the lust rising in me though, was anger. I recognised her type, the type that had often looked down on me despite being as dumb as two planks. Ok, I was generalising but she certainly looked like a bimbo.

A dark part of me was waking up as I looked at her. What self respecting woman did that to themselves? Flaunted that trashy whore look as though she was better? Every picture I scrolled through of her made me angrier and hornier. I quickly changed my search and mentally hissed, "Of course" as I found the pictures too risque for Instagram.

"Typical fuckin' slut", I murmured to myself.

"What did you say?", came a deep voice behind, quickly approaching, "What are you doing here?".

Suddenly I was grabbed from behind and turned around, face to face with a guy towering over me, wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He seemed to be completely made of muscle, and his arm holding the front of my shirt held me with ease.

"You staring at my girl?!", he asked angrily, looking past me at Nicole in the gym. Shit.

"N-n-no!", I stammered, but he'd grabbed my phone out of hand. Double shit.

"Taking pictures?", he asked before looking at what I'd been browsing. Picture after picture of Nicole Thorne in different levels of clothing, mostly see through. I swear, in slow motion I could see the different stages of realisation, surprise and then, inevitably, anger crawling across his face.

"Wait wait, it's not...", I managed before the wind was taken out of me as I was slammed into the glass. Luckily (?) it held firm - it was just my back that took the impact. What could I do? What could I say? Well I'd come here for a reason - to test out what the pulses meant. I just hadn't thought through what my test was actually going to be...

"...I...I know Nicole!", I blurted out, just before he punched me in the stomach. Everything became dulled and my head span. I hadn't felt pain like that in forever and it felt for more than a few moments like I was drowning. My fight or flight instinct was screaming at me to run but I had no energy to do that right then. Quickly I thought back to Holly and Victoria...what had happened with them that was different? Why had no-one in the shop, nor the taxi driver, thought me or what I was doing was strange? It had all changed when...

He was pulling his fist back again.

"I'm a big fan!", I gasped, with the little breath I'd regained, eyes clenched shut.

Nothing happened. I opened them and he was leaning closer, "What did you say?". I couldn't tell, from his tone, if he was now even more pissed off.

"I...I'm a big fan?", I ventured, "...of Nicole?"

His features relaxed, and then his whole body. Quickly he left go of me and I almost crumpled to the floor, until he helped me up,

"Oh my god", he said, "I'm so sorry! I had no idea!" He pressed my phone back into my hand and like that, his anger had vanished, replaced by worry.

"Please", he said, holding his hands up, "Don't take this out on her, I was just acting on my own. She - we both! - really appreciate you"

I nodded, still trying to calm myself and get used to the fact I was now, it seemed, safe. Hurt, yes. But safe.