After AnimeCon 2: Emily's Experiments

    Eerie blue light shone from Emily’s pupils as she stared at herself naked in the bedroom mirror with manic intensity. She just about had this figured out, now. Her spiritual journey had begun late last night messing around at Brian’s apartment while overloaded with charm mana, and since then she’d only slept in fitful half hour naps here and there. This was too overwhelmingly huge for her to calm down enough to really sleep, and although she was exhausted and sleepy to the point of feeling giddy, Emily soldiered on.

    Feel like the light’s getting too dim again… Emily told herself.

    It felt like just another excuse again, but she really couldn’t help it.

    With a clink she grabbed the teaspoon measure that was resting against the glass jar in her lap and made sure it was wiped clean with a paper towel. Then, with exceptional care she unstoppered the clasp on the jar and very slowly opened it. The ambrosial scent of heaven wafted up to bless her nose with oddly romantic notions of vulgar indulgence, and her senses swam as she breathed in deep. She suspected that even just getting a whiff this stuff was slightly replenishing her mana reserves, but that just made her worry that leaving the lid open was making this precious stuff evaporate. Emily had every intention of measuring out lines on the outside of the jar with a sharpie so that she could determine if that actually happened or not, but all of her other experiments today were taking priority.

    Cautiously hefting the jar up to eye level, Emily tilted it just enough so that the raw, potent magic cum inside was easy to collect with her teaspoon. Once she’d performed her delicate scooping movement, she took a deep, deep breath, savoring the way this aroma metaphorically fucked her nasal cavity into blissful stupor, and then she posited the jar back between her thighs so as not to spill anything. The hand holding the teaspoon had to remain level, so her other hand groped for another paper towel she had laid out on the carpet and collected the miniature baking spatula resting there.

    Lowering the teaspoon with a slightly shaky hand back down to the mouth of the jar, Emily swiped the silicone edge of the baking spatula across the top of the spoon to send the tiny bit of excess back down into the jar, creating the perfect exacting teaspoon dosage she had discovered. The spatula itself was then scraped carefully against the inner rim of the jar, licked for good measure—okay, so that wasn’t good science, but the tiny remnant of magic slick there was just enough to tease a pang of brilliant blue across her mind in little ploinking droplets of pure pleasure—then she set the tool back in its spot upon the paper towel, and closed and reclasped the jar.

    “Bottoms up~!” Emily put the end of the teaspoon into her eager mouth.

    The taste was once again an explosion of surf blasting up from a surging collision with the reefs of her reason, it was the euphoric lifegiving love and pure sensual joy spraying everywhere across her body with sapphire blue. Magic energy teased, tickled, and finally thrummed through Emily’s flow in a rushing current that was coiled somewhere beneath her tummy, and when she opened her eyes again to regard herself in the mirror, the pinpricks of blue light within her eyes were no longer dim. The little handle of the measuring spoon sticking out from between her lips turned this way and that as Emily worked her tongue against it, and finally she allowed herself a nod of satisfaction.

    Exactly one teaspoon does it, Emily decided. I think. A FLAT teaspoon, not a heaping one. With a heaping one, I’m still too distracted afterwards to even properly focus. A whole tablespoon… a tablespoon is right out.

    Several of the short naps interrupting her findings this morning came about after completely unintentional frenzied masturbation sessions when abusing this magic-infused Brian batter. It was an exceptionally dangerous substance, she already felt sure she was very addicted to it, and the fact that this succulent syrup had a number of mental components she had no defenses against had taught her she needed to be very strict with herself when calculating dosages.

    “Because…” Emily let herself release a lovestruck sigh. “Because I love him. I love him! So so so much. Hehehehe. And—this stuff is pure love. Liquid love. Might be the most dangerous substance in the universe?!”

    A level teaspoon of the magic cum was enough to fill her with a gigantic rushing surge of magic energy after she’d exhausted herself with practicing her ability. Or, rather—that teaspoon was roughly the amount needed to kickstart her own magic into overdrive. Rather than imagining this stuff as a magic potion that refilled her MP points, she was seeing it as a multiplier of some sort, because no other math seemed to mesh with how this was working. Emily had her own magic represented by waters of blue, and when she fed upon magic cream, her internal reservoir of blue exploded out in sensational ways with many times more volume and… oomph.

    FLAT TEASPOON OPTIMAL DOSAGE Emily scribbled out on the notepad beside her.

    She paused for a moment in embarrassment, and then put the pen back to the paper and added INGEST ORALLY ONLY!

    One of her earlier tests had involved a slightly-smaller-than-teaspoon dab upon a fingertip which was then pointed right into her butt and gently pushed inside, as a suppository. That didn’t go well, because apparently taken that way the stuff spread throughout her lower body as a strange kind of sexual heat, as if Emily was lounging in a jacuzzi for a little too long… with her sensitive places positioned right over one of the jets. Over a few minutes she grew more and more frantic, and then she’d completely lost track of time there afterwards, the only meaningful discovery being that she couldn’t clench and push the semen back out of her. That teaspoon amount seemed to magically dissolve or absorb somehow into her rectum, and could not be expelled once it was in.

    Which, I mean. Yeah! GOOD TO KNOW! Emily felt herself flush. And yeah, I haven’t revisited lathering this stuff up into my actual cooch again—don’t wanna accidentally preggo myself. DUH! But, from what LITTLE I remember it also had that crazy kind of super exaggerated effect there, and I was totally fucking blissed out of it. Probably want to wait to try that one when I can have Brian or Kelly there with me to actually do observations. Or spank my naughty behind. Or slurp my muff—WELL ANYWAYS.

    It took a lot of self control to keep herself on track.

    BORROW MICROSCOPE FROM MARK was penned down as a new entry. She’d only visited the Ouyang house once or twice and it had been years ago, but she remembered her friend was using some sort of junior science kids microscope as a bookend on his shelf… because back then, she’d immediately taken it down and started messing with it. Why he had one she had no clue, but if he still did, Emily wanted to take a closer look at Brian’s little itty-bitty swimmers at different levels of magnification and compare them to internet pictures of normal uncharmed sperm.

    Is that… everything? Emily thought to herself as she finally pulled the teaspoon measure out of her mouth and dropped it back into her lap. I think so? Okay. LET’S FUCKING GO. Round seven, START!

    Emily exerted, shoving and straining at the magic inside of her and forcing it to her will, and in the mirror she watched as her modest chest grew. It was a subtle but steadily creeping visual shift as her boobs began to expand, her already erect nipples swelling out with insistence from the delectable round curves as the tiddies became heavy and decadent. From her very slight A-cup which seemed like just the suggestion of breasts to the undeniable boast of giant show-stopping knockers which looked absolutely extravagant on her petite frame.

    She was forced to gasp for breath as hidden channels all throughout her body ached at spending so much magic, and Emily let out a delirious panting giggle as she watched her naked rack jiggle enticingly in her reflection. They were downright fucking large, they were pert but had that slight bit of delicious droop to them which told the eye they were natural rather than tits of the plastic persuasion, and staring at them was downright hypnotizing. They were perfect—because they were Kelly’s.

    Fuck, I wish I could touch them! Emily had to wrestle back the urge to grope and fondle at them, because that sort of rigorous contact would disrupt the illusion immediately.

    Emily could create illusions with her charm magic.

    First it had been completely by accident—a sidelong glance across the bathroom mirror at Brian’s apartment had her forced to do a double take and then ask herself if she was hallucinating. Her reflection had, for a moment, been the wrong her, it had shown some sort of residual self image lingering impression she had of herself, with the wrong color hair and even the wrong t-shirt. Examining herself in the mirror with incredulous eyes revealed blue light occupying the center of each brown iris, and with a bit of effort grunting and groaning to grapple with the churning metaphysical within her, she was able to intentionally alter her hair color.

    Magic!!!

    Kelly’s tits immediately followed next on the docket of things to try, with Emily marveling at the swaying pair of massive mammaries in the mirror and then immediately trying to grab at them. That either broke her focus, or perhaps her illusions just weren’t sturdy enough for rigorous physical contact, and the appearance of borrowed tatas popped like a soap bubble to reveal her usual very small barely-a-mouthful breasts. Trying to recreate the feat faltered out distorting tit imagery and then failed, and Emily felt overdrawn, like all of the nerve endings in her body had experienced too many late nights and needed a good hard rest.

    A sloppy handful of sauce stolen from the sordid mess all across Christine, Brian, and the whole damn sofa fixed the magic deficiency in a matter of minutes, but that didn’t come freely—Emily lost the very early hours of the morning immediately afterwards while collapsed to her knees and fingerfucking herself to scandalous and downright outrageously violent sexual fantasy that simply could not be suppressed. She stumbled back to the bathroom mirror with a petulant whine afterwards and recreated Kelly’s melons on her frame… and then turned this way and that with them admiring the look for far longer than she wanted to admit. When she was feeling that creep of exhaustion in her veins again she relaxed back into her normal self, and then decided right away that her next few immediate days were going all in on figuring all of this out.

    All of the cum she could manage to collect was gathered up in a jar—it was everywhere and looked like a lot, but actually only filled less than a quarter of the glass container. Which made her worry that this stuff was evaporating into nothingness or disappearing if it wasn’t properly collected. Emily hurried to throw on clothing, a hasty note for everyone was scribbled across the whiteboard and set up on the counter, she gave the still-sleeping figures of Brian and Kelly several soft kisses on their foreheads and then gave the unconscious Christine an awkward nod and thumbs up, and then she was out the door and off across town with her prize.

    She was so excited to have finally discovered her charm power that she barely remembered the long early morning walk back to her mother’s.

    Emily crept inside on tiptoes, babying both the front door and the door to her room with exaggerated care so that nothing made a sound, and then stripped off her clothes in a hurry and settled down on the floor right in front of the mirror on her closet door. Her first several experiments had been Kelly’s tits for the third time, and then out of curiosity she managed to shift her hair pink and change her face into Stephanie’s, which was weird but cool even if she didn’t think she was remembering the size of the girl’s glasses quite right.

    Then, she lost a few hours to uncontrollable masturbation sex haze after again imbibing way too much magic sex slop from the jar. She frigged herself until her wrist was too sore and sluggish to properly satisfy, she set up her one pillow and then straddled it in a wild but frustrating grinding spree, and she even clambered up and threw herself across her desk rubbing her insatiable slit across the corner edge until the fervid and unstoppable humping knocked over her minifigs and even her computer monitor almost toppled over.

    That was when she decided she would need to begin to explore portion control.

    From that point onward, the hours turned in a vicious cycle of frantic self-pleasure sessions and exploring incredible illusions—Emily was overenergized from multiple infusions of magic spooge, she was exhausted from burning through that magic and also skipping out on so much sleep, and more than anything else she was just so fucking excited!

    There was a ton of immediate discoveries made, and with the exuberant enthusiasm of a kid going back over their christmas morning haul, Emily went back through them for a mental review.

    Illusion depth! That’s a thing. I can conjure up just about ANYTHING I CAN IMAGINE, and it’s pretty damn mana-cheap, almost absurdly so. BECAUSE ONLY I CAN SEE THEM. Or, I dunno, there’s a small chance the others in the charm group with me can perceive them if I push the illusions up to a real shallow depth? Cameras don’t pick them up at all, and I do get that kinda feeling that they’re there but not THERE, yet. That others can’t see them.

    That was, unless she pushed them up above the metaphorical ‘surface’ of her water. Then, her illusions became visible to everyone—even her phone camera—but her remaining inner mana began practically dumping out to sustain it, like she had a hole in her tank. Right now she could hold an illusion up out in the physical world for a maximum of sixteen seconds, and doing that ran her ragged.

    Metaphorically speaking she was swimming deep underwater with these and could manipulate the illusions down there with her with great ease, as if they were weightless. But, when she tried to push those objects up above the waterline, their real weight became apparent and it was a real fucking struggle to keep them hoisted up there out in the open.

    Then there’s illusion complexity! It’s like I get a big fat fucking discount on the cost if it’s already something that exists in my memory. The better I know it, the cheaper it is. What I cast isn’t a legit actual image, it’s some kind of… IMPRESSION or something, like a mental placeholder? That gets re-interpreted by the viewer, into an image or whatever. Down at my illusion depth, that just means me, but I think the costs of holding up an illusion for others could skyrocket if they don’t have the same impressions or memories to help fill in all the details automagically. Needs more testing!

    There were a lot of limitations she ran into right away.

    Emily could create illusions out away from her body, but she couldn’t project them out away from herself without a bit of invisible illusion connecting it to her—she thought of them as sprues, like the plastic framing support bits in a model kit. If she wanted to have the illusion of Brian pop up across the room from her, she needed to actually reach over there with a sprue of illusion that stayed connected to the illusory Brian. Meaning she didn’t think she would be able to, for example, cast an illusion of someone sitting in a car if she was standing outside of it—not unless a door was open or the windows were rolled down. The invisible sprues were dirt cheap but not free, and although it was fairly obvious and expected the mana costs went up fast the further away from her body she tried to create illusions.

    I can make myself HEADS UP DISPLAYS for mana bars, for having an on-screen clock, and for the temperature and everything… but, there’s no guarantees as to how accurate any of those things are, as they draw from my own mind. Which suuuucks. That’s the WORST place they could be getting all that info from!

    Creating an illusion of a digital clock kept rough time and could be a few seconds off after even just a minute, and the error margins only grew from there. Unless she was also eyeballing the actual current time on her phone, in which case her illusionary clock synced itself back up. Likewise, the current temperature was just whatever her basic estimation was, and the number didn’t ‘update’ until she was actively thinking about it and made herself a new guess for the number.

    Failure conditions for an illusion… there’s honestly too many to count, Emily thought with a sigh. But, maybe I’ll work through some of them going forward?

    Illusions could be made to fool all of the senses—including touch, sometimes—but that required her to be paying complete attention to them. Her illusions were only semi-autonomous—for example she could walk at a steady pace and have an illusory Brian or Steph or Kelly ‘walking’ beside her with little problem. Unless she tried to have the illusion walk at a different speed than her, or heaven forbid walk in a different direction—attempting that messed with her internal balance and perception in a weird way, as if she was moving in two directions at once.

    The complexity of an illusion basically depends on how much thought I put into it, and how much ‘thought’ I put into it has a correlation to mana invested into it. That’s all the uh, all the OOMPH.

    She could throw up a pretty low-cost impression of Michael and Will over to the other side of the room, but turning too much attention their way, or any sort of closer scrutiny popped them like soap bubbles. Emily could make the illusions do things, but that took a very active hand, and she didn’t think she’d be able to manage puppeting an illusion to hold a conversation with someone while doing more herself than simply standing still with her eyes closed. Even pretending to ‘hold a conversation with one’ herself didn’t quite work out naturally, because there was a noticeable lag between her switching her attention to controlling what it was doing and then going back to herself to hold up her side of the interaction.

    But, I’ll maybe get better and better at it? Emily licked her lips at the implications.

    Pretty much all of the testing around she was doing was still at very low ‘illusion depth,’ and she didn’t imagine she would be able to make much of this visible to others without burning through the entire jar of restorative cream immediately. Pushing her illusions up above the water and making them ‘really visible’ was just atrociously expensive, it felt like her mana was just dumping down the drain.

    There were a number of other difficulties she was running into, and most of them involved the limitations of her own imagination. Emily tried to put Brian’s car in her closet, but that didn’t work, because she couldn’t mentally picture Brian’s car fitting in her closet. She thought she could maybe manage it if she finagled the car upright on one end and also cut it off a bit, but she was having a lot of trouble mentally cutting off Brian’s car into a segment that would fit in her closet space, and shrinking the car seemed to break the concept of Brian’s car out of her built-in impression of it. Which made it obnoxiously expensive to attempt to perform!

    Likewise, a great number of the more random things she tried to conjure didn’t work if they didn’t fit her existing preconceptions of them. She could create ice cream, and even got the temperature and flavor right on a few tries, but something about the process of eating them always dispelled the illusion. Trying to conjure a scoop of ice cream that was several feet across didn’t immediately work, because her mental impressions of ice cream scoops were at their normal size. Fifteen minutes of stubborn mental labor did manage to create a big messy pile of ice cream beside her bed, but it kept disappearing when she got distracted and couldn’t hold the details in place.

    Emily could ‘light’ a candle with a fake flame, but it wouldn’t create heat and she couldn’t smell the scented candle from across the room unless she intentionally made both of those aspects part of the illusion, because the candle wasn’t actually burning. Emily could create a hole in her bedroom wall on that side where the adjacent hallway was, but it wasn’t an actual hole, and the details of all the pictures hanging out in the hall there were only as accurate as she decided them to be. Multiple illusions at once were possible, but not really manageable—she could throw up images of Michael, Will, Tanya, and Aunt Mattie all at the same time with a lot of struggle, or she could throw up a general basic impression of ‘that group’ together for much less effort.

    Invisibility is… possible? But maybe not practical.

    Her sprues she cast about to connect to distant illusions were invisible, and she could create the illusion of nothing where something was—even herself—but it took an annoying amount of effort to maintain, and the whole time it felt like she was holding a deep breath in place. It made her think that maybe her illusions just weren’t meant to overlay across actual physical stuff—something she could manage for short periods of time, but definitely not something she could maintain for longer, and certainly not while multitasking.

    Let’s try… Emily furrowed her brow and concentrated.

   A sprue-dopod was extended out across the bedroom from her, and then blossomed into the familiar look of Brian in his iconic Darkmask outfit, skull helm and all. With slow, purposeful movements Emily herself set the glass jar aside and then got up to her feet across from him. He remained frozen in place as she did so, and then Emily felt her own body go still when she made him step forward. ‘Brian’ brought his hand up for a fist-bump, but she couldn’t do the same while she was moving him—it was so vexing trying to manipulate both at once, because there seemed to be hard limits on how many directions she could simultaneously split her concentration.

    She had him put both gloved hands up for high fives, and then managed to slap her hands against his without dispelling him. It was draining. In unison, they brought their hands back towards each other to clap, and then back out to each other for dual high fives. It seemed like it could work okayish enough if their actions were mirrored to a certain extent—because then she didn’t have to pay as much attention to what they were each individually doing. Emily really didn’t think her brain was cut out for trying to direct too many things at once—at least, not yet.

    “You can do this, Emily, you can do this,” Emily muttered to herself, before switching over to the Darkmask-costumed ‘Brian’ and making him speak.

    “Yeah! You’ve got this!”

    Oh, ew— Emily physically recoiled in a cringe, and the illusion of Brian vanished. Okay. I guess it just gets SUPER OBVIOUS really fucking quick when I don’t get Brian’s tone of voice just exactly right. Or something about the way he says it? Feels weird—wrong. Well, I mean, it’s not like I wanted to actually REPLACE my Brian with this, because Brian is irreplaceable! Just, there’s definitely A LOT of pranks I want to pull off on everyone now…

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