Chapter 1

My name is Barry Wallace and I'm a nerd. So what, you might ask? Well, that's going to change in the best way possible. You see, it's 1985. Me and my best friend, Hyatt Connely, live in an unassuming suburb in the Midwest. You wouldn't think it, because everything here bears an uncanny similarity to southern California. But that's not important.

Hyatt got a computer for his birthday. Lucky dude! Most people can't even afford one. And those who do have one, usually use it for making boring business documents, or playing ground-breaking games like Tetris or Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. While this is cutting edge stuff - you can type stuff like 'get lamp' and get a scripted response! - it's not truly thinking outside the box. For as any simpleton knows in 1985, all you need is a Tandy 1000 and basic typing skills, and you are no longer bound by the laws of physics. But if you have a computer AND you're a nerd? Well then, my friends, the world is truly your oyster.

Well, there's a bit more nuance to it than that. You see, Hyatt fancies himself an inventor; a master of innovation. Most people think you're limited to 16 color EGA displays. Ha, what cretins! Hyatt found that all you have to do is put a polaroid picture into that A: drive and viola! It's like looking at the real thing. Of course, you have to be elite hackers like us. This entails the secret keystrokes. It's a simple combination of 2 or 3 keys pressed at the same time. You thought I would reveal all the secrets? Dream on! I will say, though, it's important to have a Walkman in the same room as the computer. Vinyl records or 8-track cassettes will not do the trick, so don't even try. You'll also need a VCR for an optimal setup, so the computer can see your taste in films.

Alright, so let me tell you all about how my life got flipped... oh wait. It's way too early in the 80's for that! Just forget I even said that. So let's start at the beginning. Hyatt and I were hanging out in his room discussing his radical computer when suddenly Bret, Hyatt's big brother, burst into the room calling us nerds. He gave us both wedgies and kicked our butts, literally. One kick to each of our posteriors. He then vaguely hinted at his confused sexuality and how we wished we were peak masculine like him, what with his half-shirt and exposed abs and knee-high socks paired with short shorts. Who are we kidding, he's right. We'll never be as fashionable as him. We both fought back tears as he left the room.

"Can you imagine," I said, "in 40 years or so, how we'll wish we had overly tight shirts?" 

"Nah," Hyatt replied. "I bet that look will be a laughingstock."

"Yeah, maybe so."

"Whereas our look? Look at us. Future generations of teens will surely try to emulate us," he added, readjusting his taped-up glasses.

"Eh. Not so sure about that one."

Hyatt paused. "Well. Anyway. We'll MAKE ourselves cool."

"But how?" I asked, incredulous.

"Simple. Did you bring what I asked?"

I opened my JanSport backpack and pulled out the main event: this month's Playboy Magazine. I had taken a big risk by sneaking into my dad's stash, but if all went smoothly, it would be back in its proper place long before he noticed it missing. "Alright, let's flip to the centerfold!" I declared.

"Not so fast! we need it for an experiment I devised. If my calculations are correct, we have to show it to the computer before we sully it with our own lustful gazes."

"Huh, interesting. Alright," I said, handing over the prized possession. Hyatt started typing furiously on the computer. It was a program he designed. I asked him exactly how this helps us.

"We're going to create the perfect woman. She'll be like a genie that can grant us wishes, and then we'll be the most popular kids in school! Do you have the template in your bag?"

I pulled out the barbie doll that I "borrowed" from my little sister. "Here it is. Where do we put it? Into the mouse port?

"What are you talking about? I don't have any rodent infestation."

"Did I say mouse? Oh, crap, I don't know where I even got that from," I said, scratching my head in confusion. "I meant the joystick adapter, I think."

"Right," he answered, taping some cut wires from a joystick onto the doll . "But first, it has to be a blank slate. This face is too unrealistic. And obviously, these clothes won't do either." He pulled the head off the doll with a plastic popping sound, and removed the doll's clothes as we both giggled with glee. "Alright! Onto the next step. Computer, run program," Hyatt said, and the screen went blank before flashing some random shapes and technical sounding words.

"Isn't it amazing that computers don't need microphones or anything like that?" I mused.

"Technology is great," my longtime friend agreed, "and the internal speaker can only make tinny, high pitched beeps, but when you really want it to, it can perfectly emulate human speech. Truly a technological marvel, these modern machines."

"Yep," I nodded. "Oh yeah! What movie should I put on?"

Hyatt thought for a moment. "Frankenstein. That way the computer will get the idea what we're trying to accomplish."

"Good thinking!"

"Okay, I'm plugging in the modem now. I'm going to dial up the government to hack them."

"Which agency? And How do you have the number?"

"It isn't really important to the story," Hyatt reminded me. "And as for how? Because computers and us being geniuses and something about government supercomputers. It's the eighties, so this stuff is expected to be glossed over anyway.

"Ah, right," I concurred. Just then there was thunder roaring as I looked out the window and saw the overcast skies. "Storm's coming. Is it a good idea to leave the computer on?"

"Yep, all part of the plan. The weatherman said there would be a thunderstorm. Quick, grab the alligator clips and the bras from the closet."

"Why do you have bras?"

"I think Bret's girlfriend left them here. We need the underwires for conductivity. Put one on your head, and give me the other one."

"Bret would be pissed if he know you snuck these from his room. But it sure is convenient that she left two of them!"

"True. But... bigger picture! Okay, now help me clip these wires to anything metal you can find."

We each took the clips, welded to copper wiring, and put them in various places around the room. Hyatt hit the enter key and the monitor said in big bold letters, "CONNECTED."

The computer, now fully showcasing its modern capabilities, finally spoke up.

"Hello Michael. Knight Industries Two Thousand online."

"Oops, not that one. Hold on." Hyatt typed in some input and hit enter.

"Project Real Doll activated. Body template validated. Input visual reference," the computer's voice requested.

"Here goes. Ready? On the count of three, close your eyes. One, two... three!"

I closed my eyes just as Hyatt closed his and let the centerfold flop out, holding it to the CRT monitor's screen. I can never get over how much an 8086 processor can accomplish!

Scanning. Black hair color detected. Blue eyes detected. Decoding document 'playmate data sheet' now. Height: five foot, seven inches. Measurements: 38-24-35. Likes: walks on the beach, men who know what they want. Turn-offs: rudeness, bad hygiene, people who don't return shopping carts. Please input additional parameters at this time.

"Okay,” Hyatt’s voice came. “open your eyes. Now is where you can help me. We're going to flesh out her personality. I have a list ready to go, but you should have a hand in this, too."

I did so, and admired Miss August for a few seconds before focusing back on the task at hand. "Say, how does the computer know when we're talking to each other and when we're talking to it?"

Hyatt dismissed the question with a hand wave. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Eighties," I nodded, "of course. Okay, let me think. You go first, and I'll cover any bases I think you missed."

Hyatt turned back to the computer. "She's gonna be the perfect companion. Interested in me, and Barry, of course; values us at people regardless of our looks. Agreeable, smart, funny, and naturally beautiful. Everything is easy for her, and no challenge is too daunting. What else?"

I tilted my head from side to side as I mulled it over. I couldn't really think of much to add, but they say if you're going to dream, dream big. "Big boobs!" I blurted out. "And, um, also gives good advice... has the charisma and confidence that makes people really want to take her seriously. Hmm. And finally, just all around a super hottie of a woman!" I nodded satisfied with myself. As I finished my last sentence, thunder boomed so loud I could feel it. I wondered how the computer could hear me over the ruckus, but Hyatt was already holding down a couple keys and interrupted my train of thought.

"Also, she dislikes Bret!" he interjected, and hit enter.

"Affirmative. Super woman with negative inclination toward household member Bret confirmed," the computer intoned.

The two of us exchanged looks. "Basically. Yeah, that's everything," my buddy shrugged as the computer showed a spinning wheel on the screen, obviously finished accepting input. We then high fived each other.

"Awaiting auxiliary power supply," came the monotonous voice.

"Any second now," Hyatt told me. "It's only a matter of time until lightning strikes. It's inevitable with all the extra measures we put in place."

Sure enough, a minute had hardly passed when we were blinded by a flash of light followed closely by thunder that shook the room. We looked around expectantly. The Barbie doll had disappeared as if into thin air, and we were surrounded by thick, white fog! Then Hyatt's closet began to emit brilliant colors while sparks flew around randomly throughout the fog. Odd graphics could also be seen popping into existence here and there, seemingly floating from the screen to the middle of the room and back again. Then I could swear I heard a guitar riff coming from an unknown source. I looked to my partner in crime.

"I hear it too. Disembodied music... like - like a theme song!"

The closet door swung open, and more fog swirled out. I could barely make out a figure, heavily obscured, walking out of the closet.

"Why the closet?" I whispered to Hyatt.

He looked at me, almost disappointed. "Where else?" I nodded in realization.

That's when she spoke. "Someone call for a Superwoman?”

Chapter 2

The smoke slowly cleared. Well, technically, the fog cleared. It was definitely the doing of a special effects machine, using dry ice, meant to simulate smoke. White smoke. But as I was saying. Hyatt and I huddled together, worried about what exactly had materialized in his closet and the implications it might bring. Would it be some sort of Frankenstein? We certainly didn't use a dead body, which would have been way too grody. We used a barbie doll. So would that mean it would be some kind of plastic giant doll walking toward us? We could barely dare ourselves to open our eyes, yet we just had to know if we actually succeeded in making the perfect woman. Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw that Hyatt had already done the same. He had a look not of fear, but awe on his face. I swallowed my nervousness and turned my head to follow his eyes. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. There was a woman! A real, normal... well, more than normal, sexy woman! At least, I had sure hoped she was real.

***

You're probably wondering how all this started. Sure, I already mentioned the whole experimental process, but it's worth going over everything that led up to this point. You see, high school is rough. Everyone knows that. Even in this well-to-do suburb where everyone lives in spacious houses, we all got problems, right?

So Hyatt and I are best friends, if you hadn't guessed. We were minding our own business in gym class. Well, actually, we were minding the business of all the girls doing their stretching exercises. We looked at each other, sharing a smirk, when suddenly Coach Hughes directed his ire at us.

"Barrry! Hyatt! Why're you two slacking? And I thought I told you to both fix your uniforms!"

We both looked ourselves over. The gray tank-tops that said 'SWAYZE HS' were a bit oversized for both of us, hanging on our skinny bodies. The short shorts and tube socks seemed fine to me, though, although the shorts had a tendency to ride up. I shrugged as the P.E. teacher shook his head.

"You know what, nevermind. Just get back to running laps," he said, his voice practically dripping with contempt.

"This blows," Hyatt's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah," I answered in kind, "but we have to stay under the radar as much as possible."

"Except when it comes to Bobbi and Kim," Hyatt corrected me with a wink.

"True, true," I agreed as we started our easy jog.

"Faster!" Coach reprimanded, and we did our best to comply.

Cue the record scratch as I take a moment to explain the situation. Roberta and Kimberly have always been out of our league, but we were smitten with them. Me with Roberta and Hyatt with Kimberly, that is. But, getting their attention would be an uphill battle. They were dating the coolest guys in our class! Bob Mowney and Jon Husak. These guys were jerks and we wondered why the girls couldn't see it.

And so we jogged slightly faster, our breaths quickening until we were struggling to keep up. Did I mention we're nerds, not jocks? Take this guy over here. Reanu Keeves. He ran up to us from behind and passed us easily, pausing briefly to share his 'insight' with us.

"Running is the best. But you gotta really feel it! Put your whole soul into it."

With that, he ran off, leaving us trailing and looking at each other inquisitively. Hard to tell what his cryptic comment really meant. Was he trying to encourage us or remind us of how bad at running we were? I never really know what to make of him.

***

Gym class finally over, we hit the showers. We always catch a little flak for wearing our shorts in the shower, but whatever. With that daily hurdle behind us, the rest of the day was like any other. Except when we got home from school that day, that's when the two of us came up with our little scheme. We were talking on the phone, as we do most afternoons.

"I've been thinking. We're better than this. We deserve better," Hyatt told me.

I couldn't argue, but that's just the way things are. "For sure. But there's nothing we can really do about it."

"But what if there was?"

"Like what?"

"Just come over and I'll fill you in."

"Alright, I'll just finish my homework and tell my parents I'm coming to your place for dinner."

As we hung up, I wondered what Hyatt could possibly be talking about. What power could we possibly have to just change things? Was there really any way around the social hierarchy? I sighed, not getting my hopes up, as I opened up my Trapper Keeper and notebooks.

A few hours later, I made the 15-minute bike ride to Hyatt's house. Bret answered the door. Just my luck. "Hey, buttmunch! What do you want? Here to see my turd of a brother, right?"

"Heh, good one, Bret," I said while accomplishing minimal eye rolling. "Yeah, me and Hyatt made plans to hang out.

Bret laughed his signature, obnoxious laugh. It sounded not unlike a donkey braying. His face then suddenly turned serious, before he puffed up his cheeks. He made a gagging sound, seemingly trying his best to keep something down. Then he opened his mouth and let out a huge burp, followed by more excessive laughing. It was almost funny the first dozen times he had pulled this, but I really just was waiting for him to move at this point. All I could do was rub my forehead while trying not to cringe. After what seemed like an eternity, he stepped away as if he had forgotten I was there. Finally.

***

"So what exactly is your idea, Hyatt? Sorcery or what? We can't just 'become' popular for no reason," I asked, already skeptical of whatever wild scheme my best friend had cooked up.

Hyatt's eyes gleamed with the fervor of a mad scientist. He pushed up his oversized glasses and gestured dramatically to the cluttered room, filled with an eclectic mix of gadgets, wires, and stacks of comic books.

"Barry, my friend," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "we're not just talking about some half-baked popularity spell. We're going to create the perfect woman."

I blinked. "The perfect woman? Like... out of thin air?"

"Better!" Hyatt exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We'll use technology. We'll design her from scratch with this!" He dramatically unveiled his computer, a monstrosity of wires and blinking lights that looked too advanced for the eighties, save for the modem that you had to physically hang the phone receiver on.

"Okay, but how?" I was still skeptical, though now slightly intrigued. Hyatt always had a flair for the dramatic, but this seemed particularly outlandish, even for him.

Hyatt's fingers danced over the keyboard, and the heavy glass tube monitor flickered to life, displaying a dizzying array of code and graphics. "It's simple, really," he said, launching into full exposition mode. "We input all the traits we want into the computer—beauty, brains, confidence—and then we use this program to bring her to life. Think of it like Frankenstein, but instead of body parts, we're using data."

I raised an eyebrow. "So, what, we're hacking into some government mainframe to power this thing? Are we going to steal the plans from NASA while we're at it?"

Hyatt laughed. "Close, but not quite. Not NASA, but... the government. Just trust me on that part. We just need a bit of lightning and a lot of imagination." He pointed to the window, noting the clear night sky. "I checked the weather forecast. Tomorrow night's the night."

I crossed my arms. "And what makes you think this is going to work? We've never done anything like this before."

Hyatt's grin widened. "Trust me, Barry. I've been working on this for months. With your help, I know we can pull it off. And if it works, we'll be the coolest guys in school. No more getting shoved into lockers. No more sitting alone at lunch. Just think about it."

I sighed, feeling the familiar tug of one of Hyatt's crazy schemes pulling me in. Despite my better judgment, I couldn't help but get caught up in his enthusiasm. "Alright, fine. But if this backfires, we're going to be the laughingstock of the entire school."

"Deal!" Hyatt said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Now, let's get to work. We have a woman to create!"

As we started setting up the equipment, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were about to embark on the most insane adventure of our lives. Little did I know, Hyatt's scheme was about to turn our world completely upside down.

***

And there we have it. It wasn't the easiest task to gather all the supplies we'd need. Well, actually, it was pretty easy. I might even say it was barely an inconvenience; Radio Shack had all we needed, minus the 'crucial elements' which I had already taken care of. We managed to get everything in one trip, which, for a couple of nerds like us, was practically a miracle. All that remained was a particular magazine and a toy doll. The former was a bit tricky, but I managed.

The next day was ideal indeed. It was Saturday. We had the whole weekend to accomplish our task. What a weekend it would turn out to be. First things first: we met up, and rode our bikes to the mall. I made some small talk and we wound up getting a bit philosophical. After all, we were putting our social lives on the line, if not our actual lives.

"In case things somehow go bad," I said, "I just want you to know you're my best friend."

Hyatt smiled. "We're each other's only friend, aren't we? But I know what you mean. I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too, totally. You know, nerds or not, things aren't so bad. I mean if we fail."

"Of course we can't fail," he scoffed, "it's... our destiny. I just know it. But yeah, despite regularly getting pantsed in gym glass, I... I guess we could have it worse."

"Yeah. We don't have jobs but we always seem to have cash. And our houses are pretty nice, I suppose."

Hyatt nodded. "Well, sure, I suppose our parents do alright for themselves, even if it means they're not around a whole lot."

I looked at the houses we were riding past with optimism. "You know, all these advances in science and industry—what a time to be alive, right? I bet our generation will pale in comparison to the future. Everyone will have mansions compared to these, real estate will be a cinch, college grads won't be scraping by at all!"

"For sure! Jobs will be a breeze to get. Everyone will be living the dream."

"I feel like this is some kind of foreshadowing commentary."

"Haha, yeah, it does feel that way. Anyway, who knows? Maybe we'll even have a hand in world greatness. Our kids, and everyone’s, will be so grateful for all the stuff that's going on in our generation!"

***

Hyatt and I had biked down to the local strip mall, a quintessential 80s haven complete with neon signs, a video arcade, and a food court blaring synthesizer-heavy pop music. We headed straight for Radio Shack, our nerdy paradise. As soon as we walked in, we were greeted by the comforting smell of plastic and circuitry.

"We're in luck, Barry!" Hyatt had exclaimed, his eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. "Alligator clips are half off!"

We loaded our basket with an assortment of wires, connectors, and clips, along with a few items we didn't really need but couldn't resist, like a new soldering iron and a couple of mystery grab bags labeled "Surplus Electronic Parts." Who could resist a bargain like that?

The cashier, a bored teenager with a mullet and a name tag that read "Emilio," barely looked up as he scanned our items. "Big project?" he asked, chewing gum noisily.

"You could say that," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant but probably failing miserably. "Just a little... experiment."

Randy shrugged. "Cool. Ah, Casio wrist watch. Good choice. My brother Charlie has one of these. Anyway, that'll be $27.43."

We paid and headed back to Hyatt's house, our bags of electronic treasure in tow. It felt like we were on the brink of something big, even if we didn't quite know what that was yet. Hyatt was practically buzzing with excitement, rattling off technical jargon and grandiose plans for our creation.

Once back in Hyatt's room, we laid out our haul on the cluttered workbench. It was an eclectic mix of the latest tech: spools of wire, circuit boards, a hodgepodge of computer parts, and, of course, the all-important alligator clips. Hyatt immediately set to work, inspired and motivated as ever, as he assembled the necessary components with the precision of a seasoned engineer.

I tried to keep up, handing him tools and occasionally untangling wires that seemed to have a mind of their own. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"It's an experiment, after all," Hyatt answered after a short hesitation. "But a lot's at stake, and I wouldn't be taking such a risk if I wasn't... mostly sure. Our chances look good. The science checks out."

"Hmph. Weird science."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Wow, we've made ourselves a bona fide lab here."

"Yep, almost finished. The final touch... here," Hyatt said, walking over and pulling out a board game from the closet.

"Ah, good idea. A little game to calm our nerves?" I pointed at the box in his hands.

Hyatt chuckled. "No, no. This is actually a crucial ingredient. It's the game of Life."

"Ohhh!" I said, the realization dawning on me. "Like 'you can be a winner at the game of Life' and what not." I couldn't resist reciting the jingle.

"Exactly. Poetic, isn't it? Because we shall be. But it's not only symbolic, it's going to be the 'operating table' for our... operation. And no, I don't have the 'Operation' game."

I burst out laughing, thinking about the light-up red nose. "Understandable. Plus, we don't want any plastic bones flying around."

"See, this is why we're friends," Hyatt teased. "Everything is prepared!"

"Right on! So what are we waiting for?" I didn't even try to hide my eagerness.

Hyatt pointed at the window. "It's only slightly overcast still. But there's already a couple drops hitting the glass. It won't be long now."

"Alright. Just say the word," I said, patting my backpack.

Chapter 3

"Man alive. She's.." Hyatt stammered.

"She's hot!" I completed his thought.

"She's perfect!" Hyatt exclaimed.

The woman smirked, obviously amused. "Hello? I'm standing right here," her sultry voice was soft as it came out.

"I-I'm, uh, Barry... Hi."

"And I'm Hyatt. We, I guess you could say-"

"Created me," she said, turning around and looking over the disarrayed room. "I know. Thank you, by the by."

Both of our eyes went immediately to her shapely ass. She had quite the figure, that much was certain. Her black and pink dress wasn't overly skimpy or flashy, but nonetheless I suddenly found my hands covering my groin area as Hyatt did the same as she turned to face us, her mouth curving into a mischievous grin. "Problem?" She asked, looking at us expectantly.

As I searched for words, Hyatt spoke up first. "Oh, no, no, we were just... It's interesting actually, your dress."

"Do you not like it? It's the dress that was on the doll."

"Oh wow," it dawned on me, "It is! Neat! I guess that makes sense."

"Hmm," she said, taking a few steps forward. Her legs were long, smooth, and nicely toned. The black high heels clicked on the wooden floorboards. "But this is a dress for little girls. I'm a big girl."

She snapped her fingers, and there was a blue spark that moved from top to bottom of her dress. It looked like one of those tesla arcs. When it disappeared, her dress had changed. As if our hearts weren't racing enough, it got even sexier. My mouth hung open, while Hyatt tried to say something. I think so, anyway, but only a high pitched squeak came from his mouth.

I tried to speak as well, with slightly more success than my buddy. "Gah... erm... I..."

Come on, brain. Work, dammit! Act natural. Natural but smooth. Quick!

"I like it," I finally managed.

"Oh, my, it seems you really do," she retorted, then did a little twirl for us. "Oh, it seems you like the realistic physics as well."

I silently admonished myself for staring at the jiggle a little to long. I forced myself to stop staring at her chest, but her face was painfully beautiful, and I shamefully found myself looking at my shoes, my new watch with the calculator (what a great deal at Radio Shack), anything. Oh, lord help me, I thought.

"Conversation not your strong point?" She asked. "I'm going to teach you two some confidence. Go on, talk to me. I won't bite." Her lips pouted for a moment, then turned to a grin as she turned to the side, giving us a view of her profile, her eyes still locked on us.

It was about this time Hyatt regained his senses. "Erm, right! That's great! So... what's your name?"

She seemed to think it over for a few seconds. "My name? It wasn't specified in the program. But I'll tell you what. Call me... Synthia."

Even her name made me want to swoon. Trying to heed her advice, I spoke again. "That's actually perfect. And I couldn't help but notice, did you call yourself a Super Woman?"

Synthia sat on Hyatt's bed, crossing her legs. We both let out another whimper. "Ah, now we're getting somewheres. That is what you requested, is it not?"

"Well, yeah, but the thunder-"

"The computer took the hint and inferred information. It did quite well, I should say. I mean look at this," she said, extending her arm. She pointed at a comic book laying on the nightstand.

"Oh," Hyatt protested, "but that's... I mean, that's not real." He realized, along with me, how that sounded in this circumstance. She didn't even have to respond, only give him a look.

"Good point," Hyatt corrected himself.

"Fair enough," I added. "I mean, everything about you is extraordinary, that's for sure. But... so does this mean the comic book was added to the input?"

Synthia merely smirked in response.

"Wait," Hyatt interjected, "That wasn't intentional. That's just.."

"Fantasy?" Synthia finished his thought. "Everything in this room is input. I'm designed to like everything you like. Provide your deepest desires, even the ones you don't know you have. Smart boy like you should know that."

"So what does this all mean?" I wondered aloud.

"You're about to find out. What do you two want to do first?"

Chapter 4

The two of us stood in stunned silence. What now, indeed! Even with all the planning and scheming, we hadn’t quite thought this far ahead. Granted, and I was sure Hyatt had to be thinking the same way, I was able to think of something off the top of my head. But, of course neither of us dared to be so bold. Still, the question remained; what does the dog do with the car once he’s caught up to it?

“Well, I, um… we were hoping…” Hyatt begain, but trailed off.

It was up to my quick thinking to make the save again. “We want to be popular at school.”

“Hanging with a total babe like you would definitely do the trick!” Hyatt added.

I resisted giving him a smack on the back of his head. “What he means is, erm, surely you could elevate our… status?”

Synthia rose from the bed and took a step toward us, crossing her arms and deepening her considerable cleavage. We almost didn’t notice the annoyed expression on her face. “Oh? So I’m what, a genie or something here to grant you wishes now?”

We exchanged glances. “Did… I mean, you heard that? Before you were even… here?” Hyatt asked.

“W-what I think my friend here meant… like, he was—it was more like a metaphor,” I stammered, my thinking apparently not so quick this time. I wondered if I was imagining things, or if her eyes started to glow ever so slightly?

Our would-be genie’s expression suddenly softened just as she giggled, he voice a melodious tone. “You should have seen the looks on your faces. I’m only teasing you. Alright, tell you what: first, there’s something I want to do. Then we can discuss what you want to do.”

***

There we stood in the upstairs bathroom, in the shower, when Synthia stepped in and dropped her towel. Her back was conveniently to us as she stepped in and turned on the water.

“Mmm. So this is what a shower feels like. Wonderful!” She said, basking in the hot stream. “Nevernudes, eh?”

“Huh?” we asked in unison.

“Sorry, it’s a term coined by… forget it, not important. The shorts,” she said, turning her head and looking at our swim trunks. “Well, I suppose it’s for the best. You two are still a bit young, yes?”

“Well, as in, still in high school? I guess. If you put it that way.” Hyatt reasoned.

“Exactly. There are double standards to uphold, you know.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I urged her.

She sighed. “I truly am sorry, but you don’t get to see everything. I can be naked around you, sure, but only like this.” She turned to face us, but the steam was already obscuring her lower half, and her upper half was strategically covered in foamy bubbles in just the right places. We both groaned.

“But,” I protested, “we already saw the Playboy!”

“Now, now, lads.” She waved a finger before turning back to face the shower head. We could veritably feel her smirking as we watched the suds, wishing to high heavens we could be the droplets of water running down her body. “You understand,” she added after a pause. “Underage drinking is fine—we’ll get to that later—but other, shall we say, adult activities? I’m afraid those are off limits. Now, be dears and wash my back? Please?” She again turned her head, giving us a pout that no one in their right mind could resist. As she reached and pulled her long blonde tresses to the side, I definitely saw some side boob and—was that a hint of—

Hyatt let out a quiet, low moan, confirming that he too saw what I thought I did. I shot him a stern look, embarrassed for the both of us. Synthia seemed not to notice, or pretended not to, as she continued to enjoy the shower while inching backwards expectantly. Hyatt seemed practically frozen in place, and then I shook my head as I noticed him close his eyes while his lips formed a circular shape as if he were trying to say “oh” but couldn’t find his voice. I suddenly felt deep sympathy as I sensed he was feeling a bit ashamed. I couldn’t say I was doing much better. I reached for Synthia’s back, soap bar in hand, but my hand was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, my nerves by far getting the better of me.

“There you go. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be scared of here. See?”

***

I sat on the computer chair while Hyatt sat on his bed. We had trouble finding words at the moment. I didn’t want to mention his mishap while he undoubtedly didn’t want to bring up how many times I dropped the soap. And, of course, I wasn’t about to let him know that I had my own ‘mishap’ when Synthia bent over to retrieve it and made contact with my thigh. Things were so surreal, between the steam and water spashing into my face, I couldn’t even really tell exactly what part of her touched me. I could only tell it was her, because… I could just tell. It was almost like feeling a jolt of energy enter my body… and then exit. That must have been what happened to him, too, I was willing to bet.

I looked around the room again, still a bit hesitant to look my buddy in the eye just yet. I looked at the Cubs pennant on the door and the Blues Brothers poster on the wall. Meanwhile, Hyatt shuffled through some of his comic books in an attempt to organize them.

“Need to get a shelf for these,” he finally broke the silence.

I nodded. “I’ve heard of some people using empty cereal boxes as comic book holders.”

Just then Synthia entered the room. Her hair was still damp, but she wore bright, high-waisted leggings and an off-the-shoulder crop top in a vibrant, electric blue. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my two favorite mad scientists! You boys ready to rock this town and show them what real cool looks like?"

The eager looks on our faces told her all she needed to know. We were even already over whatever embarrassment we had been struggling with, her beauty and grace filling us with new motivation.

There was one hitch, however. “Uhm Synthia,” Hyatt pointed out, “there's just one little problem. I... I need to ask my parents if I can go out. They’re not exactly keen on spontaneous plans.”

“Yeah, and I haven’t even told my folks that I’d be out late. They’ll flip.”

Synthia’s grin widened, her eyes sparkling with confidence and mischief. “Well, my young mad lads, it sounds like your first step toward adulthood is to have a proper chat with your parents. Show them you’re responsible and ready to handle a bit of freedom.”

We looked at each other, hesitation written all over our faces.

“I don’t know… confrontation isn’t really my thing.”

“Yeah, what if they say no? Or ground us for even asking?”

Synthia placed a reassuring hand on each of our shoulders, exuding a calming presence. “Relax, chaps. I’ll be right there with you for moral support. Trust me, sometimes all it takes is a bit of confidence and a respectful attitude. We’ve got this!”

With a deep breath, Hyatt nodded, trying to muster some of her confidence. Taking his cue, I attempted the same.

“Trust me,” Synthia smiled. “With your wits and my persuasion skills, they’re sure to see how mature you really are.”

But before we could make our way downstairs, in burst Bret like the intrusive bully he was wont to be. “What’s all the racket around here? What’re you two nerds—who… who are you?” Bret’s surprise at seeing an attractive blonde in his brother’s room had thrown off his rant, to say the least. “I-I don’t believe we’ve met. You must have accidentally wandered into this nerd den. Are these two pests bothering you?”

Hyatt tensed up, glancing nervously at me then at Synthia. I swallowed nervously before looking over in time to see her eyes narrow slightly; her demeanor shifting.

“Uh, Bret, no, we were just-”

Synthia interrupted Hyatt with a sharp tone. “Hey. I know you. Aren’t you Corporal Hicks?”

Bret, dumbfounded, could only utter, “Who??”

“No, wait, now I’ve got it. Yes. Ah, you must be Bret. The resident big brother who fancies himself a bit of a tyrant, I presume?”

Bret raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. He seemed to take a moment to process everything he was seeing, before trying his hand at whatever passed for charm in his mind. “I-I’m Bret, yeah. My dork brother and his geek friend must think they’re, uh, comedians or something… but… sorry, who are you, exactly?”

Synthia stepped forward, her posture exuding confidence and a touch of defiance. “Name’s Synthia. I’m here to help your brother and his friend with a little project. Now, if you don’t mind, we have important matters to attend to.”

Bret sneered, unimpressed. “What… wait. No way. HAHAHA! Hyatt, I know you must be desperate, but did you seriously hire-”

“Whoa, whoa,” I interjected. “This is so not what you think, Bret. Synthia is… a friend.” I had a feeling I was making it worse.

“Bret,” Hyatt added, “I wouldn’t make her angry.”

“He had better not. Bret, you should listen to your brother, mate.”

Bret shook his head, obviously trying to stop himself from laughing. “You can not be serious. Where did Hyatt get enough cash?” He chortled at his own perceived wit.

“I warned you,” Synthia replied coldly. The next thing I knew she had disappeared. Before I could even question my sanity, she reappeared in the doorway, but now holding a heavy barbell from Bret’s room. That on its own was surprising, but the way she was holding it with one hand while not struggling at all, was mind-blowing.

“Where’d she go?” Bret asked, before noticing our eyes fixated on something behind him. Curiously, he slowly turned around as she stepped toward him, maneuvering the weight effortlessly to clear the doorway. Bret was as stunned as we were, his mind unable to quite process the scene, let alone comment on it. Normally, rendering him inarticulate would be a pretty simple task, yet in this case, all of us were in the same boat. The only one with agency seemed to be Synthia, and she was about to demonstrate how in control of the situation she really was.

We were able to snap out of it somewhat, thanks to the sound of creaking metal. I thought I had to be imagining things; but my ears only confirmed what my eyes were seeing. The bar was bending! How could it be? My mind raced, trying to find reason. Trying to deal with the reality by finally adding everything up: the “super woman” comment, the comics, all the dots connecting. She was the real deal. She really was super!

It was at this point that I fainted.