If Steel was a test, then he was a complete success. You have no idea who he was before, but with a single thought you stole everything that was him. His body, his mind, his past. You took that, threw it in the trash, and turned your basic dream for a houseslave into his entire reality. But how much further could you go?
Nothing about Steel violates the laws of physics. At least not that you think. Sure, you’ve never seen an anthropomorphic bald eagle before. But nothing about him is impossible. As far as you know he eats, drinks, breaths, and sleeps just like any other living thing. Is that the limit? Could you turn a person into something that didn’t follow those laws? Something that didn’t need to eat? Something without organs? You need to do another test, but what?
Looking out the window, past a faint reflection of your room, you spot an obese woman in her early 20’s waddling down the sidewalk. What could you do to her? As you take a bite out of your chicken sandwich you suddenly have an idea.
Putting the glasses on you look out the window, center your view on the woman and think of a chicken. Not just any chicken. A petite chicken girl with a belly that’s filled with large eggs. A belly so big that she has problems moving around. She’s constantly laying, but the eggs are so big that she can’t push them out on her own. Instead, they come out as the pressure of newly forming eggs pushes them out.
You picture her face, her eyes shut as an egg begins to crown, spreading her cloaca to its widest. Her little nub of a tail wags just above in agony. The pain is intense. Her beak is clenched shut. She pushes as hard as she can. The egg moves down a little. Her cloaca spreads a bit more. But its not enough. The egg is too big. It slips back in by the tiniest of amounts. She’s going to spend the next hour pushing. Struggling. Desperately trying to get that egg out before the next egg forms and pushes it the final inch that she can never do on her own.
As the egg finally pops out, she clucks. “Buckaaaw” – a chickenlike cry of agony. A cry she repeats 6 times a day. Every day. From the moment of her birth to the end of her life. This was why she was born. Her eggs are valuable, so each day a man comes by her apartment and collects them. The money they sell for is used to support her.
She can, of course, still talk, but her speech is punctuated by clucking. The further along the egg is, the more clucks get interjected, making it difficult to understand her in that final hour of suffering.
The moment her egg is out, her cloaca seals back up, becoming as tight as the day she was born. She doesn’t need to eat or drink. It would be difficult to do on her own, with the weight of her eggs holding her down moving about is a chore. And unlike Steel, her arms don’t end in talons. They end in nubs. Her arms bend like a human arm but are winglike in all other respects. She has a slave, like Steel, who takes care of her. But still, eating would be difficult. A small mercy that won’t starve to death, and an excellent test to see if you can make a creature that defies physics.
You realize this is cruel. In the back of your mind. The front of your mind. You understand the gravity of what you’re doing. But for some reason, these glasses make you feel like a god. No. You are a god. You’ve been given the power to reshape reality. Why shouldn’t you use it? And why should care about the woman who, a few seconds from now, will have never known anything other than the life you give her.
You finish your thoughts and prepare to watch someone wake up to a new life.