Psycho Shatter 1985: Black Vice Re;Birth – Phase 03

Disclaimer: This work contains adult material including sexually explicit activities, graphic violence, strong language, sexual violence against children, incest, cannibalism, mind control, forced transformation, unwarranted malice, and more.  This work is not suitable for minors. Reader discretion is advised.

Psycho Shatter 1985: Black Vice Re;Birth
Phase 03: Re;Discovery

Having shattering the ground floor bathroom mirror in a fit of ‘passion’, Vice made their way to the upstairs bathroom, which had not so much as seen the light of the outside world in a good 3 months. While its design and layout differed, being smaller and housing only a shower stall, Vice paid little attention to such minute details and instead darted their eyes to the mirror, revealing their refreshed body, complete with damp shoulder length hair that retained its curl even after thorough brushing. Looking beneath their neck, Vice focused on the outfit they selected for the evening. An outfit consisting of a simple yet eye-catching red t-shirt with black skirt.

It was presentable, practical, and accentuated Vice’s proportions thanks to the form fitting nature of the fabrics. It would have certainly been enough to captivate a male gaze. But checking out and fawning over their new body was not what Vice came here to do. Well… not entirely anyways, as Vice primarily came here to test their powers.

Digging into a plastic bag they filled with various doodads from around the home, Vice pulled out a simple playing card in order to test if their ability to, as they put it, “shatter things,” could be activated without needing to masturbate beforehand. With a firm glare and a moment of mental flexing, the card shook for a second before popping into a series of paper scraps that were sent floating throughout the room.

After letting out yet another stint of joyful yet unnerving laughter, Vice moved onto the next target, a small ceramic plate from the kitchen, which would serve as yet another thing to shatter. Once more, a stern look and a pinch of imagination was all it took to cause the dinnerware to develop a crack and then burst into a number of shards that promptly flooded the porcelain sink before them.

“So, I can shatter things with my mind… cool. But what about—” Vice paused as their hair drifted into their vision. “Fucking wet hair! Would it have killed Jessie to shell out for a decent hair dryer?”

While Jessie’s memories with how to deal with wet hair prevented them from needing to think too much about the feminine care their current body demanded, that did not make the process of dealing with it a frustration free process, and Vice was reminded of why they always liked to keep their hair at ‘male lengths’. However, this minor annoyance inspired Vice to undergo an, in retrospect, very stupid experiment where they would try to will their hair dry, even though their knowledge about their powers was limited to breaking things. They drifted their hands throughout their hair, imagining and willing the moisture out of it, and for their curly strands to become something more manageable. Thankfully for Vice, they did not wind up shattering their head into 37 distinct pieces, and instead they found tufts of steam escaping through their locks as their fingers drifted throughout them, drying and straightening it over the span of a few seconds.

“Now ain’t that just beautiful,” Vice commented as they smiled back at themself in the mirror, taking joy in this small refinement of their appearance.

“At the very least, this will be a nice time saver going forward. But to return to my original quandary, if I can destroy, can I create?”

As Vice mused externally, a habit that is easy for one to fall into when in a quiet and expansive abode without another soul around for at least a kilometer, they looked at the palm of their hand, devoid of anything but their skin, and began to think about something coming into existence when there was nothing. While Vice was never the most adept at sciences, getting by with a steady stream of B’s in their private schools, they fully understood how preposterous the idea of creating matter out of nothing was, and anticipated this idea bearing no fruit. Yet they were willing to believe in just about anything after the events of the past hour, inspiring them to strengthen their focus and clench their fists, channeling their desire to create something into their right palm. After a full minute of intense concentration, Vice opened their palm to reveal a small glossy sphere, a marble primarily black in color, but with a flash of red inside it.

“Heh… hahaha… What is this? What… in the fuck… is this? If I were the religious sort, I would question how I could have been blessed with such divine gifts, especially after leading such a sinful existence. But I suppose that the origin of these abilities matters little next to what I can do with them. I can create, I can destroy, I can… do anything I set my mind to.”

Vice paused their fatigue-riddled monologue to return to their bag of goods and pull out a trashy pseudo-erotic romance novel that Jessie picked up on a whim and skimmed through when she was bored these past few days. Vice held the book open in one hand, and imagined that the pages were being flipped through rapidly. They thought it, concentrated on this idea, and within seconds the pages of the book were being flipped through as if they were caught in a maelstrom, when it resided in a room bereft of any and all air current. So they thought it, so it came to be, indicating that Vice was, indeed, the master of this reality.

As the book flipped to the last page, Vice shut it and glared at it with a fervorous intensity, picturing the bound papers before them morphing into a tuna sandwich. While the transformation was gradual, involving several seconds of the cover fluffing up into bread and sucking in mass from the pages between them, while the center of the book began to morph into the contents that Vice craved, the end result was a near immaculate looking snack that Vice quickly sunk their teeth into, an eagerness swelling within them as they began to consume solid food for the first time in years.

Yet as Vice began to chew the soft bread and recognize the flavors filling their mouth, they almost immediately spat the sandwich out in the sink. A twinge of disgust vibrated throughout their body as they looked at the sandwich, followed by a realization that, perhaps, their powers do have a limit, or preferably, they simply required more diligence and dedication to make the most of them. Regardless, Vice’s high of discovery was brought down by this vile sandwich that tasted of rain damaged cardboard and sewer fish, leading them to discard the sandwich in the bathroom’s wastebasket and head downstairs in the search for something more edible. As they dashed down the stairs however, they were met with a wave of pressure that flood throughout their head, not dissimilar to a migraine. It only lasted for a moment, but it was something that Vice found bizarre nevertheless as neither them or Jessie had any experience with anything of this nature.

Vice quickly discarded this momentary headache as a side-effect of them exerting their powers. For a few seconds, they began to theorize the cause of this, but before such questions could be finalized in their head, they discarded such concerns, believing that any and all relevant minutiae would be made clear to them in due time. Instead, they pilfered through the fridge in search of a meal, only to find nothing that could be constituted as such, unless one considers a pickle and mayo sandwich a ‘meal’. The cabinets were similarly barren, only housing a half-empty bag of chips, two boxes of cereal, and an unopened container of pinwheel cookies.

“What sorry individual lives like this?” Vice verbally pontificated as they began trying to recall any justification Jessie could have had for leaving the kitchen in such an poorly-supplied state. They did not need to think very long before the answer came to them, and their eyes darted to the nearest clock accordingly.

“6:41? So Juniper should be arriving here to go out any minute now… except for the fact that this is Juniper, one of the least punctual people I have ever known… or Jessie had ever known.”

Vice paused to take in the plethora of memories that were entering the forefront of their mind, all centered around a dear and constant friend of Jessie, Juniper Funkatron. A deluge of hazy memories flashed before them, beginning from a loosely defined time during Jessie’s early childhood, leading all the way through adolescence and into high school, before returning to recollections from a few days ago, when the two last met. It was a life-long friendship between two women that Vice vicariously experienced through foreign memories within seconds. Yet their only reaction to these memories was a scoff before they began to verbally pontificate their displeasure with what these memories had to offer.

“Oh Jessie, if you consider somebody like this a friend, I almost don’t feel bad about killing you. After all, you have to be rock-fucking-stupid to actively engage with a ticking time-bomb like here. Given the trajectory of her life, her drive, and her aspirations, the most she can do is bear the child of a driven or dedicated man who will provide for her as she raises their children in a… passable manner.”

“She certainly is not the type of individual I would ever associate with, and while I have the ability to simply discard her and cause her to undergo the mental turmoil that comes with a lost friend, I could, alternatively, temporarily act like Jessie. Hm… yes, that should be interesting at the very least. It will provide me the opportunity to engage with another individual for the first time in half a decade, supply me with at least some form of entertainment, and is preferable to several additional hours of isolated experimentation, especially if I keep having migraines whenever I brush against my poorly defined limits. Plus, these two typically enjoy a meal during their weekend outings, and in the event that things do take a sour turn, I can always reveal my true nature now can’t I?”

With their next objective set, Vice took a hearty sigh, during which they were reminded of the pungent odor of cooking human flesh. Staring into the oven, they could tell that their former body yet to properly cook, which was unsurprising given its size. Meaning that they were truly not ready to be served and consumed like the husk of meat they were, and that Vice would need to look elsewhere for an activity to engage with until Juniper arrived. Looking throughout what served as Jessie’s bedroom, Vice began devising a sort of contingency plan, and began packaging Jessie’s personal effects into a cheap suitcase. For while their plans for the rest of the evening were not set in stone, they knew for certain that they would not be staying in this home for much longer, even if the murder of Vice’s body had seemingly gone unnoticed.

Right as Vice finished gathering up all of Jessie’s belongings, and well after the clock struck past 7 PM, they were finally called away by the doorbell, indicating the arrival of their anticipated guest. Putting on a faux smile, Vice opened the door to reveal Juniper, a rotund white woman with frizzy ill-kempt brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Her face held scraps of cuteness, yet her poorly maintained skin and fat distribution made her somebody who Vice could not help but register as a solid 3/10 in their book, at least before glancing their vision downwards. There they were greeted with a skimpy outfit that struggled to contain Juniper’s form, with clumps of fat seeping beneath the arm holes, and shorts that only accentuated her negative features, presenting her pale vein-riddled legs to the world.

Memories of weight and dietary issues surrounding this woman hit Vice’s mind as they glanced at the figure before them, whose only true boon was her chest, which she openly revealed to both Vice, and the rest of the world due to her top’s low cut. Obesity was something that Vice held a degree of resentment for, and if not for Jessie’s memories, they would have probably dragged her to the bathroom and sliced her like a sow. Instead, like a good little actor, they chose to play along with whatever lines they were dealt, waiting for Juniper to break the metaphorical ice.

“Hoya! How you be sweet pea?” Juniper said with gusto, her voice containing a subdued drawl.

“New week, same old bullshit. I’m just glad that I’ve only got another week of this before I can get on with the rest of my life.”

“So, still nothing you can use for a paper?”

“Still nothing, and I’m not banking on having an eleventh hour revelation over this shit sap.”

“I still don’t think it can be that bad. Sure you don’t have a TV or nothing, but aside from giving the retard a sponge bath once a week, it can’t be all doo-doo.”

“It is not so much what I need to do while I’m here, but the fact that being here prevents me from doing so many other things,” Vice elaborated, effortlessly channeling Jessie’s resentments while mingling them with their own.

“It sucks, but hey, that’s life for ya! Anyways, you wanna yuck it up here or are you ready to go?”

“Go where exactly? You just said we should ‘hang out’.”

“Movie night! The drive-in the next town over is playing some monster movie, um… I think it was Godzilla vs. The Cosmo Monster or something. After that, we’ll prowl around, see what’s open, get some grub, and I’ll drive you back here. Sound like a plan?

While Juniper was indeed as unappealing as Jessie’s memories implied, they still provided an offer that was, as it were, better than nothing, and Vice was interested in the film she mentioned. While they were far from a movie buff, only visiting the cinema a few times a year during their former life, they were partial to giant monster movies, having found their simulated rampant destruction and the battles between gargantuan beings to be appealing on an innate level. They momentarily wondered if that correlated to their own fascination with destruction and general misdeeds, but they discarded such thoughts and replied to Juniper.

“Yeah, sure, not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

“That’s my girl! Now let’s blow this lemonade stand and kick out the jams! Woo!”

With that Juniper dashed towards her busted up station wagon that sounded like a dying electronic squirrel when it started up. Vice could not help but laugh at their predicament as they moseyed their way to the passenger seat, taking momentary delight in the sunlit forestry that surrounded them. While their body may have been wildly different, this sight instilled a sense of nostalgic belonging within Vices rotten little heart and, for the first time in years, they felt as if they were back home, in the heart of the Virginia wilderness.

It almost inspired Vice to escape from the shackles of obligation they willingly accepted, and use their new body to hunt whatever game they could find in these woods. But instead they decided to stay in the car with an obese woman blaring Know Your Rights by The Clash from a well worn cassette tape. It certainly wasn’t how Vice was expecting to spend their first night of freedom, but much like everything else that happened these past two hours, they accepted it with a smile on their face.


Psycho Shatter 1985: Black Vice Re;Birth Main Page
Phase 01: Re;Birth
Phase 02: Re;Member
Phase 03: Re;Discovery
Phase 04: Re;Turn
Phase 05: Re;Assembled
Phase 06: Re;Juvinated
Phase 07: Re;Action
Phase 08: Re;Union
Phase 09: Re;Join
Phase 10: Re;Fresh
Phase 11: Re;Call
Phase 12: Re;Venge
Phase 13: Re;Joice

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