Greed God chapter 9

January 5th 2016 Lord Mansion 1:00 PM EDT

In  movies and on TV when the main character goes through an upgrade, it  usually had some sort of dramatic side effect. Maybe they would sweat,  or a single man tear would slide down their cheek, or they would grit  their teeth heroically as they withstood the result of their altering  physique. I admit, I may have been influenced by that kind of media. I  was expecting the mutation from the Blood of Apophis to hurt. I was  wrong. The sensations I was going through could no longer be described  as mere "pain".

Pain is  something that you experience as feedback from your nerves. It's a  sensation, a thing that is done to you. This however, was a world of  difference. After the first couple of seconds when the sensation was  first kicking in, I didn't FEEL pain. I WAS agony. Forget nerves. My  bones, my hair, my eyes, my fucking teeth, were all erupting with the  sort of seething, rioting fire that you would normally only see from  fucking volcanoes. I was experiencing what it was like to suffer on a  cellular level, and it fucking SUCKED.

I  cried, I screamed, I threw up, I shit myself. I think my eardrums burst  and I KNOW my teeth cracked. Every bone in my body shattered into fucking powder under the self destructive contractions of every single muscle as the aforementioned muscles tore themselves apart in the process,  then knitted themselves back together in the most agonizing way  possible. Thankfully, after what felt like a subjective hour, I blacked  out from shock.

When  I finally came too, I was lying in a pool of what could generously be  described filth. Blood, sweat, tears, and several other bodily fluids were mixed with what looked like years worth of dead skin and hair and quite a few teeth and...well I was just glad that most of my room had marble floors,  because I would have needed to burn and carpet that had touched that  muck. Still, when I staggered to my feet the light push I gave myself  flung me off the ground and into the air like a springboard.

I  adjusted mid air, an action that took me almost no time or effort  because of how fast my brain was working, and when I landed I  distributed every single iota of force in the absolute perfect place to  absorb the impact cleanly, not that I needed to because I barely felt  the shock when I touched down. I stood there, shocked, and looked down  at my body in wonder. I looked...perfect.

Perfectly  proportioned, perfectly muscled, my skin was smooth and unblemished and  my pores were fucking microscopic. My hair was soft as velvet and  smooth as silk and every step distributed my weight flawlessly, leaving  no imbalance or unsteadiness at any point in my gait. Something I  literally wouldn't have been able to even comprehend before. I felt like  a literal god. Of course, I smelled like rotting cow ass, so I dumped  my ruined clothes and the solid parts of the muck on the floor into a  trash bag, mopped up what was left, and went to take a shower.

As  I scrubbed myself thoroughly I considered exactly what effects the  blood had had on me, because I could tell there were dozens. Firstly I  could perceive every single inch of my body now. I could feel which  movements would engage which muscle groups and what movements would be  the most economical. I remembered every single thought I'd ever had with  crystalline clarity, my senses were through the roof, I could literally  perceive time at a faster rate.

In  short, physically and mentally I was a fucking superstar. Not to say  that I was Superman level or even close to it. Honestly in terms of  actual force I was probably weaker than someone who took the original  Kobra Venom formula. Mass times acceleration and all that, but my  application and use of that force were on an entirely different plane of  existence.

If I had to estimate my maximum muscular limit, I would say that I could lift about an imperial ton, putting me in the lower mid tier range in  terms of muscle among supervillains. Granted I had zero idea of how to  use that muscle, but I would be able to learn pretty quickly. Most  people might assume having flawless memory would mean I could recall  every kung fu movie I'd ever seen and recreate them from memory. Those  people would be idiots.

Being  able to effectively perfectly engage every consecutive muscle as I made  any given movement made any sort of mimicry massively harder, not  easier. Other people made stupid, inefficient movements almost all the  time, and having to adjust them internally when trying to recreate them  meant I would need to learn a martial art from the ground up and  basically redesign the entire fucking thing for myself.

Still,  that would be a task of probably hours at most, I just needed to binge  some tutorial videos on youtube and possibly read a few physics  textbooks. As I climbed out of the shower I observed myself in the  mirror with a smirk. I looked good. When I had noted that my musculature  was perfect, I hadn't been referring to mass or cut. I'd been talking  about distribution. My muscle fibers had literally been reshaped into a  perfect balance of the muscle groups that best suited my frame.

My  teeth looked great, mostly because I'd thrown up my originals and  regrown brand new flawless teeth, though my incisors were slightly  sharper than they had been  before. I heard a ding and tried to check my  pockets before remembering my phone was in the next room and I could  just heart it flawlessy from where I was due to my senses. I strolled  out to check my texts, expecting a second helping request from dirty  little Barbie with the stressful daddy issues.

Instead,  to my surprise and joy, sexy milf Dinah had texted me. I padded across  the marble floor naked, letting my perfect ass air dry as a favor to  anyone who might glance in my window from a nearby road. I flopped down  on my bed to check the text. "Hey coffee stud, was expecting to hear  from you." I grinned. I knew it. Girls like Dinah liked to play  disaffected when guys paid them attention, but ignore them for a bit and  they get just as insecure.

I  considered how to respond before texting back. "You seemed a little  uncertain about us talking, I didn't want to impose." Which was  obviously a lie I wanted to impose my cock between those fat milfy tits  of hers, but Dinah struck me as the kind of girl who liked to fix men. A  bit of vulnerability would get me further with her than the bravado I'd  been giving Barbie. The little redhead was wound so tight she was about  to explode, I'd just needed to prod the right spot, but women like  Dinah required more...sophisticated methods.

I  paused as I waited for her response. I wasn't sure I'd been this aware  of social dynamics before my mutations. Not consciously at least.  Granted I'd always had a gift for getting pretty girls to let down their  guard, and their panties, but it had been instinctual. Just a matter of  experience and natural charisma. This was different. This was less art  and more science. I kind of liked it. My phone beeped again. "I wouldn't  have given you my number if I thought you were an imposition."

There  we go. She was consoling me. Perfect. Now that she was thinking  emotionally I responded with something to get her on the back foot. "Are  you sure? You seemed really upset before, I didn't want to pile on. Did  you work things out with your boyfriend?" She hadn't seemed that upset,  more annoyed, but by recoloring the experience from my point of view as  more extreme than it was it would alter her recollection. All she would  remember was the negative emotions anyway, and now she would remember  them as worse than they were.

It  took a few minutes before she responded this time, a win if I'd ever  seen one. "We're fine." I grinned. Literally the least enthusiastic  response in the history of texting. I left it at that, letting her be  the next one to text so she had to change mental gears herself instead  of having me do it for her. "So, do you have any special plans for  valentines? I somehow doubt you're lacking girls to spend time with."

It  was a transparent attempt to mentally put me in an unavailable position  so she would have a reason to shut down any flirting, and I cut it off  at the pass. "Nah, I don't connect well with girls at school. Immaturity  is kind of a turn off." Perfect return serve, putting the ball firmly  back in her court. I expected that one to throw her off for a bit so I  climbed out of bed to get dressed again, just throwing on some sweats  and a t-shirt.

My  clothes still fit, though they draped differently. Honestly I looked  better but not too much different. It was more an all around qualitative  improvement in every aspect than it was any one thing being different. I  didn't look like a different person, it was more that I looked like  myself on a good hair day, a good skin day, a day when my teeth were  especially shiny, etc, and I looked like I was having all those good  days at once. For anyone who hadn't seen me for a few days they would  just assume they were remembering me wrong.

I  heard my text alert again and grinned, sliding the unlock on my screen  to read my newest text from my hopeful future conquest. "You like mature  women?" That one was almost hopeful. The next text took a minute or two  to come through, but I knew it would be coming, she would have noticed  how intrigued her last message sounded. "I assumed you were just bored  at the coffee shop. Don't boys your age prefer perky little cheerleader  types?"

I  recalled the exact perkiness she was referring to on full display when I  was fucking Barbie, but but I was able to entirely honestly confirm  that I was plenty interested in Dinah's fat mommy milkers. Which wasn't  what she meant obviously, or at least, she thought it wasn't. I made  sure to keep myself in character when I responded though. " I prefer a  woman who can teach me what she likes. Sorry, I probably sound pathetic,  but I really don't know much about women."

Which  was obviously a raging lie, but Dinah wanted an excuse to interact with  the cute buff younger guy that made her feel like she wasn't doing  anything wrong. A teacher dynamic would let her explain our  conversations away to herself as platonic, at least until I got a chance  to make a move properly. I got another text almost immediately and  grinned at her eagerness, but when I unlocked my phone to check it I  realized there was nothing there.

I  blinked but realized the sound had been coming from elsewhere and I  stood up to look around, finally finding the black burner that Riley had  given me tucked forgotten into the bag I'd grabbed from my trunk. I  frowned but opened it, seeing a single text message from a restricted  number. It was a link to a news article from a few years ago about an  underground fighting casino run by a woman who called herself Roulette.

Under  the link was an order for ten of the training weapons at thirty  thousand each. There were a series of precise instructions for making  the exchange and a date and address. I blinked. So Riley's mysterious  buyers were contacting me with an offer? I grinned to myself. I was  intrigued. I'd go, payday aside the chance was too good to pass up.  After all, how often does one get the chance to observe professional  cage fighters up close. I had so much to learn.