Photoshop Omega: Tsundere

"I see," I said. I amazed myself that I kept my voice so neutral. "That really blows, Dad."

His face twitched, and then he shrugged. "Well, it's not the worst. I've only got about maybe 10 years to retirement. My productivity makes those bigwigs look amazing, so they won't be firing me any time soon--not if they want to avoid a wrongful termination lawsuit shoved right up their asses."

My chest roared with stifled rage, but I managed to say, "Well, I hope whoever pulled this... prank get what's coming to her."

Pops nodded. "Amen to that." He paused. "So, not to change subjects too quickly, but... how long exactly have you been banging Chantell?"

I jerked so hard I nearly fell off the wall. "Wait, what?"

My father had dirty confidence in his smile. "Come on, son. I'm not a moron. Skinny little Chantell has this late bloom, and is suddenly looking like a flaming hot piece. Then next thing you know you finally get off your ass and get in shape, start actually shaving and doing your hair. But you hardly leave the house. Coincidence?"

I shook my head. "That doesn't mean that--"

"Two fine looking young people, not related by blood, home together in a big house? It's not rocket science, kid." He smiled wryly. "It doesn't hurt that I've more than once caught her staring at your ass when she thought no one was looking."

"I-- wait, when---"

"Now, I don't blame you. I mean, she'd growing into one hot babe. Pretty soon, at the rate she's going, those boobs of hers are going to rival her mother's. Only, you know, without the cost of surgery."

I managed to recover my place leaning on the wall, and looked at him sideways. No, I hadn't told dear old dad about Omega. He's a wily old coot, and I couldn't predict how he might react. In fact, I'd poured over what I could do with the program over the last several months--especially, you know, how to use it to make money.

Every scenario I could come with would lead to me being assassinated by government agents, torchered by black market profiteers, or locked up in a mental hospital. Seriously. I didn't have the smarts or the resources to form a shell corporation, or to make a black market double-blind operation. The best I could come up with was to meet a plastic surgeon and split the profits for easing his workload a ton, but the likelihood that he (or she) would backstab me sometime down the line was astronomically high.

So I decided to keep a lid on it. Even from my father. Hell, I wish Chantell didn't know--but at least she knew what might happen if she decided to get talkative. First, people would think she's crazy. Any more than that, and well... I did have the power to make her look like almost anything I wanted. I had both the ultimate carrot and stick, as far as she was concerned.

"So tell me, just out of curiosity," my father was saying, looking at me in he probably hoped was a nonchalant way. "What's she like in the sack?"

I turned slightly more to him. My mouth twitched. "You ever hear the word 'tsundere'?"

He blinked. "Soon-what?"

I sighed. "Never mind, then. Let's just say she likes to pretend she's a victim, and I'm a monster forcing herself on me. But sex has been her idea almost every time."

He nodded slowly. "Well, Millennials do love to be victims."

I let out a loud sigh.

"But what I mean is," he said, leaning closer to me, "is she as good as--"

"Are you too lurking out in the hall again?" Sharon's voice called, a sharp edge to her voice. "At least help us set the table, will you?"

My gut re-clenched at the sound of her voice. But somehow, I was going to have to get through this dinner civilly. "Coming," I called in a falsely pleasant voice.

"All over your daughter," my dad muttered out of the side of his mouth. I shot him a glare, but he only chortled like a bad Santa thumbing through his Naughty list.

Once the china was set (we used to just have plates and glasses before my dad married Sharon, but now it was china) we dug into dinner. It was Sharon's specialty--rump roast, baked fries, and way more salad than anyone was going to eat.

All things she could just season, stow in an oven and have Chantell watch, or dump out of a store mix.

Still, I can't say it wasn't tasty. It's nice to have a change over delivery food. I took a good chunk of roast, a good share of fries, and just enough salad to be polite. Salad is just a sad vehicle for dressing, anyway.

Chantell greedily piled fries in mounds on her plate, in stark defiance of her tiny waist that her tight gray top that showed a generous scoop of her improved cleavage. In former days, she would have daintily had a lot of salad in not much else.

Now, a few days of indulgence was just a couple clicks away from being nullified at any time.

Sharon eyed her. It gave me a chance to appreciate her own cleavage, peeking out under her black v-neck and fashionable cardigan. Her eyes were somewhat tight as she picked at her own salad. But she smiled and said, "So have you gotten your classes lined up, dear?"

Chantell paused to swallow. "Yeah, pretty much. I mean, everybody tells me not to overload yourself too much your first semester. It's a big jump to college. So I'm not too worried about taking on--"

She cut off as her phone rang with a message. She pulled it out, swiping. My dad glowered a bit, but he'd lost that battle as part of making dinner happen, so he just stuffed a chunk of roast into his mouth.

Chantell broke into a peal of laughter. "Oh, that is too funny!" Then she shoved her phone away again, taking a bit bite.

Sharon regarded her a moment. I guess she expected her to continue, but that wasn't happening. Face cooling as she watched her daughter eat happily, she turned to me. "So... Jake. How is your... work going?"

Her voice sounded like she'd just barely avoided stepping on a giant snail. God, she was terrible at small talk. This was definitely a woman who'd gotten by on looks and ruthlessness alone.

I gave her my chummiest smile. "My work?" I looked at her expectantly.

"Yes, your... photo editing."

"Oh," I said with a jolly grin, "you mean the old face filtering, skin smoothing, tit tucking, ass altering, pussy--"

"Excuse me?" Sharon snapped.

"Not at the table, Jake," my dad said, hiding his smile behind taking a drink of wine.

"Oh, right. Sorry. Well, actually it's going quite well. Whoda thought that doing it regularly would get me such better paying gigs. And my quality of work speaks for itself.

She frowned at him a moment longer, but her expression cleared a little. She tilted her head. "I don't suppose you've had any luck, you know..."

I set my beaming smile to stun, and trained it on her. I made sure not to sneer or flip her off or anything. That kind of question from Sharon was always on one of three topics: a 'real' job, moving out, or getting a girlfriend. So I thought I'd do a cross section answer.

"Nope, but still looking," I said.

"I mean, I just thought, you've managed to at least get into good shape." She picked at a piece of salad, and pulled some of her hair out of the way. "Now would be a good time to, well, start branching out. Looks make a big impression on people, you know. And they are hard to maintain."

Translation: you no longer look like a fat-ass slob, so quick move on with things before you revert back. I shrugged. "Well, I have a project I'm working on now that has some promise. It could be, uh, life changing."

The way her head tilted up slightly and her cheek twitched said she believed none of it. But having checked off the odious task of addressing me, she turned to the main event. Her expression was carefully neutral, but her eyes looked bright as she turned to my father.

"So, how was your day at work, dear?"

He considered the question, chewing on his roast. Then he shrugged. "Not bad," he said.

She blinked once, just a little faster than normal, but her expression didn't waver. "Anything interesting happen today?"

Carl tilted his head. "Not that I can think of." He paused. "Well, actually, I guess there was something."

Sharon leaned forward just slightly. Chantell snickered, and they both turned to her, but she had her phone out again, and was texting furiously.

"Somebody came in today wearing shorts and flip flops. Thought it a super casual day, I guess, but we haven't had one of those in years. He tried to go home, but the boss got such a kick out of it, he made him pose for pictures."

Sharon blinked. "I see. That is a little odd." Her face fell just a little. I might not have noticed had I not been watching for it. The conniving bitch.

"Well," she recovered, "I was just thinking. Would it be alright if I invited Alaina for dinner next week?"

I stabbed my roast with extra force. My dad merely paused take take another drink before answering. "Alaina?" he said.

"Yes, she's going to be back in town for the summer. I thought it'd be chordal if we invited her for dinner."

Grinding my teeth, I tried not to glare at her. It would not do to tip my hand, and I doubt I could do much else right now.

Alaina Caldia was half-Colombian, with great skin, striking eyes, full lips, and dark hair that framed her face in thick waves that most women would kill for. She was Sharon's friend from high school, recently divorced, and living high. She was also a former Playboy playmate. And according to Sharon herself, Alaina owed her a big time favor.

It looks like she'd fallen to classic plan B: get husband drunk enough to have sex with a hot friend, and then dump him in a flaming dumpster of prenuptial contract breach.

My options were pretty short. I couldn't just shout "Don't do it!" Not only would that be awkward, but I didn't have a good excuse for her not to come. If I just revealed everything I'd overheard, there was a good chance of everything blowing up in my face.

My father might not believe me, for one. He doted on Sharon a lot, and didn't like to hear anything against her. She might easily use the situation to turn things against me. I might have my ass kicked out the door faster than you can say "But it's true, I swear".

I glanced across the table at Chantell, but the damn girl wasn't even listening. She was still grinning and swapping messages with someone. Probably a friend--her boy toys didn't get her laughing like that, they didn't have the brain cells.

So instead I thought in furious silence as my dad pretended to consider it.

"Well, I don't see why not," he said slowly, frowning. "If that's what you want, that's--"

Chantell burst out in again, laughing, almost putting her elbow in her plate.

Sharon turned to her, face annoyed. "Now, really," she snapped. "What is it, anyway? You've been going on for the whole meal now."

My dad frowned. "Actually, I'm kind of curious now too. What's so funny?"

Chantell shrugged. It was a movement worth watching in slow mo. "Oh, it's nothing big, it's just... Well, there's this new app out, super popular--anyway, you take a picture of your face, and it changes it. You can look older, younger, put a smile, on, and it even changes your gender! Those are the best!"

She swiped away at her phone. "Like, here, check this out."

She turned the phone toward them. On was a picture of what I assumed was one of her friends--let's be honest, I never bother to keep track of them. Except for maybe Bethany: she was hot.

This girl was freckly and tall, with a long, narrow face. Her smile picture made her look like a maniac looking for their axe, and the aged one felt heavy on the age spots to me. The gender swapped one was alright--she turned out to look enough like a guy that I'd have to do a double take.

"Well, that's... curious," Sharon offered, eyes disinterested. My father frowned.

"An app did that? That's pretty neat."

I shrugged. "I could do better." I froze after the words left my mouth.

Chantell rolled her eyes at me. "Well, of course an expert with the tools could do better. But this is pretty good for an app, okay? And Shelly actually looks pretty good as guy, so one of my other friends said she'd totally do her guy version as long as... uh..."

She trailed off, eyes darting to her mother, but I wasn't even really listening. I was too busy listening to the chorus of angelic choirs trumpeting in my brain, except they had tiny little devil wings and tails under their robes. My synapses flashed with red lightning with shades of pink.

I could solve this little problem. Not only solve it, but wrap it in a dirty fantasy, cudgel Sharon with both stick and carrot, and if I was lucky, score some high class pussy.

It would take a lot of preparation. The best things did.

***

I sighed. "Fuck, this is harder than I thought."

I glared at the screen, eyes flitting back and forth between two images. For once, they weren't of exotically hot women touching themselves with giant O faces, or pursing their lips into a steamy smile while they thrust their tits at the camera. Unfortunately.

No, these were just two pictures of me.

The difference between them wasn't that great. The one on the left I'd just taken of myself an hour so before, right after I'd snarfed down the rest of my food from dinner and made some half-baked excuse to retreat to the confines of my room. I was sitting in this chair, giving a variation of the Thinker pose, only my head up, facing the camera.

With the one on the right, I'd just made a few alterations. I'd made my jaw more smoothed, my eyes larger, my hair longer, and my frame more slender. Basically, I was trying to make myself into a femboy.

But Omega was having none of it.

[Error!: Edit/Base mismatch. Please modify changes and try again.]

I growled. "Really? Turning Chantell from Underdeveloped Teen to Super Slut only took a dozen images, but I can't even just make myself look slightly more effeminate?"

This was my sixth attempt at editing myself. Each time, I'd altered less and less. Still that damn error spat it's venom at me. Giving myself a huge cock? Easy as falling out bed. Making myself look slightly more sexualy ambiguous...

I sighed. "Fine. I'll just have to start from the smallest change and work my way up to see how much I need."

At this rate, it was going to take much longer than expected to enact my plan. Doing sweeping changes in 10 images or so was one thing. But even I would wear out doing tiny alterations to hundreds of images. I'm not an animator, for god's sake. And for my plan to work, I had to know exactly what would happen. It wouldn't due for changes to stop working halfway, or worse, not at all.

Accordingly, I had no choice but to experiment on myself. Chantell couldn't be trusted with this, that's for damn sure.

Speaking of Chantell...

"Gonna have to delay things somehow," I muttered. "And I know just the person to do it. Someone who did jack shit to prevent this situation..."

Quickly, I pulled up my step sister's latest photo, and made a quick, easy edit. I exported it to reality (thankfully that stupid error was silent: it's rules were fucking obtuse) and then waited for the inevitable to happen.

I didn't wait long. Within a minute, my bedroom door blasted open, and Chantell charged inside.

"What the hell, asshole!" she snapped, shoving the door shut behind her. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

She turned to me and glared. I couldn't help but smirk.

Across her forehead, I'd scrawled "Lying Bitch" in thick black letters. Only they were backwards, so when she felt that tingly feeling, and quickly gave herself a look in the mirror, she would get the message right away.

"I see you got my summons," I said, steepling my fingers. "Excellent."

"Not excellent, you prick," she snarled. "I was on facetime with a friend. I managed to convince her that you'd put some dumbass malware on my phone, but..."

"Damn," I said. "That sound hilarious. You wouldn't happen to have recorded that, would you?"

"Just tell me what the fuck you want!"

My smirk died away. "You know, in case you might have forgotten, we had a deal. You were supposed to sway your mom away from setting my dad up so she could divorce him."

"I did!" she protested. "I told her several times to give it up, and just get a normal divorce."

"Really?" I drawled. "Then why did she call into my dad's work claiming discrimination? Why is she suddenly inviting her ex-Playmate friend over for dinner?"

"I--she--" her jaw worked. "She did?"

"No shit she did! Dad told himself, although he doesn't suspect Sharon, of course. And weren't you paying... you weren't paying even the slightest attention at dinner, were you?"

She folded her arms together with a growled. "Well, excuse the fuck me. Like you hang on every word our parents say at those stupid dinners. You play with your phone more than I do, most of the time. You look at porn right at the dinner table, for god's sake."

My mouth twitched. How did she know that? "Fine, point taken. Still, you were supposed persuade her to drop those stupid schemes, one of which you yourself suggested, and now she's done BOTH of them."

"It's not my fault! All I did was say what I'd heard. Besides, your dad is fine, isn't he?"

"My dad isn't fired, true, but it's not doing him any good at work, either. He's pretty much got a black mark now. And now Alaina is coming over. Tell me you aren't dumb enough to think that's a coincidence."

Chantell heaved a loud sigh, and her lips tightened. "Fine. What do you want from me?"

"Just one... no, actually, two things," I said, holding up the corresponding fingers. "First, I want you to try to get your mom to call this off. And I want your sincere effort, because there will be hell to pay if you don't."

Chantell bit her lip. "But you know how stubborn my mom is! She might not even listen to me. I have to be careful--she's paying half my tuition!"

I frowned at her. "Tough rocks, bitch. You take at least partial responsibility." I heaved a sigh. "But you're right about her being stubborn. If you can't get her to get her to cancel, get her to put off the dinner date at least a week. Preferably two. Do whatever you need to. Claim you had some hot date you forgot about, or your friend has a birthday. Even if you have to beg, get it put off. You understand me?"

She sighed, head sinking a little. "Fine. I'll do what I can. Now can you take this damn thing off?"

"You forgot the second thing," I said, eyes narrowing.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, what else?'

I leaned back in my chair. "I've got a ton of meticulous, painstaking work to do because of you two. So you're going to blow me to take the edge off."

She gave me a long look. "You shitbag. Fine." She walked over to me, got to her knees, and under my desk. I swiveled so my crotch pointed at her and I could see the screens. "What are you going to do, anyway?" she asked as she unzipped my pants.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," I said. She fished my already-lengthening member out with a frown. Her lips slid confidently over my cock head, running her tongue around the ridge. She pulled me a couple inches into her mouth, sucking softly, and then disengaged to lick the length of my shaft, and then spit on it, working it with her hand.

I brought up the original image of myself as she jerked me to full length. She actually had to back up a little under the desk.

"Did you have to make it this big?" she whined, still stroking. "It makes my jaw ache, and it's impossible to deep throat all the way now."

"Just shut up and suck my cock, bitch," moving my hips a little as I frowned at the screen. "And don't go too fast--I want you to swallow my cum after I've at least had time for two, maybe three edits. Take your time."

She flipped me off, but obediently got back to work on my engorged piece, sucking me in more slowly.