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The Life of the Curator

Chapter 1

for Dreixes

by Draconicon

Charlize opened her eyes to the sun beaming most offensively through a nearby window. She lifted her head from her pillow, narrowing her eyes at the hate-ball that dared to intrude on the panther's rest, but it defied her by continuing to glow just as brightly as it had been for the last hour or so, judging by the amount that it had risen over the horizon. Its morning fury was enhanced by the glimmer of light off the various buildings just outside the window, bouncing off glass, steel, and the occasional drone that flitted through the air of Suprenum, delivering the morning packages to their destinations.

Shaking her head, the panther reached for the curtains - long since displaced from their closed position before she'd gone to bed - and felt that the window had opened. It was no longer pulled tight, which meant that her guest from the night before had probably snuck out while she was asleep. A slow smile dawned on her face, and she shook her head as she pulled the window closed again.

"She'll be back," she muttered. "She'll have to be."

In the meantime, she had a day to prepare for. The panther rolled her legs over the side of the bed, morning wood half-satiated with the fun they'd had last night still intrigued enough for the possibility of fun this morning. It bounced between her legs, almost like a dog curious if it was going for a walk. She shook her head, pushing herself to her feet instead and making her way to the bathroom.

A quick shower woke her the rest of the way, and she leaned toward the mirror for the morning exam. She tapped her cheeks, pulling her whiskers back to test the tension behind them. Nothing too bad, none of them coming loose with stress the way that her mother's had when she was Charlize's age. No gray in her fur, though some of the rosettes beneath the black coat were starting to turn a little lighter. She'd have to keep an eye on that; nobody would believe that someone like her was suffering from stress graying, and besides, it didn't look good for someone so pure and dark to start going gray, even if it was age-appropriate.

And it wasn't, not for her. Not yet.

She stood up properly, stretching her arms back. Her breasts had a few little marks through her fur, a few love-bites from the night before when her partner had been freed to do a few rougher things. She chuckled to herself as she hefted them slightly, lifting her breasts to the mirror to look at the few scratches that stood out and the couple of bite marks that had turned to bruises around her nipples. Nothing bad, nothing out of sorts, but definitely rather obvious with her usual clothing of choice.

"Mmmm, if you thought that would keep me dressing modest..."

Heh. The thought that any of her partners would think to control her that way was quite ridiculous. If they got away - and this one had, for the moment - then she imagined that they were more content to see if they could live their lives without her. Well, Charlize was relatively sure that this one could not, would not, and would be back by the end of the week to make another contract.

Until then, however, she had work to do.

Her cock went into a special pair of panties, one with a little pocket sewn into the space between her legs to cup and contain it so that it didn't rise without permission. There were times when it was fine to show off a little bit of biological eccentricity, but most of the time, the world preferred to see her as a full woman, and as it helped the illusion, she saw no reason why she shouldn't play along with it for the moment. There were those that would never understand why she kept that thing, and there were those that believed that she should go the other way. Why not let them see a woman, and then let them stop thinking that they had any right to choose what she had between her legs?

With the red silk in place, the dress followed. No need for a bra today; she would let people see her as she was up there. There was an artist coming in to negotiate for some gallery space later, and she felt that a little cleavage might help her chances of keeping him from getting too big a head on his shoulders. Better to send that blood somewhere less coherent.

She looked at herself in the mirror once more, adjusted her breasts so they were even with each other inside of the purple dress, and nodded her head in approval. A pair of sheer stockings and transparent high heels completed her look, and she was off.

As she left her apartment, the hallways of the Fifth Bonifacio - the fifth apartment block built by Bonifacio Industries and marketed for supers - loomed high. They were built to accomodate people that stood up to fifteen feet high, which meant that her own height - not insignificant at just over six feet with her heels - still looked diminutive in comparison. She shrugged it off, continuing down the padded carpet, feeling the heat that a building made of so much metal and other composite materials held onto.

Summer was going to be a pain, but hopefully the building would have air conditioning installed by that point. She would hope for that.

Charlize took the elevator down to the lobby, passing by a rat in a mask and cape coming in. The super marched up to the front desk, making demands about the people living in the building, and she hid a smile as she walked past him. She knew that the clerk behind Registration would give him what-for. Heroes were more welcome in Suprenum than anywhere else in the world, but that didn't mean that they could run roughshod over everything.

She stepped out into the light of day, looking up at the sun rising over the buildings in the distance. Glancing at her watch, she saw that she had an hour before her appointment at her gallery, which meant that she had half an hour to spare before she needed to be there. The temptation to call someone in for company for the walk struck her, but she dismissed it. It was one thing to drag someone in for a booty call. It was something else to call them in for mere company, no matter how dashing some of them were.

So, the panther began her walk. She tilted her head back, listening to the soft whoosh of the drones on the heights, the general noise of the city, the soft roar of the sea several roads over, and, of course -

THUMP!

"Note to self, avoid Rosewood Avenue on the way home," Charlize muttered, leaning forward past the intersection to look one street down. A thick-shouldered fox was dragging himself from a crater in the street, grabbing for a car that he'd all but knocked over. "Well, construction is going to be busy for a while..."

A pity that one of the other companies sponsoring Suprenum had managed to headhunt a few of the construction supers from city employment. One of them might have been able to fill that new crater and fix it in minutes. Now, they were going to have to wait for something mundane to do it, and it would keep everyone up for hours.

Ah, well. The perils of living in a city of supers. The benefits were good, but one couldn't deny the costs.

Charlize continued on, humming to herself to keep the low-level headache starting to build at the back of her skull at bay. Music was good, and it was filled with just enough patterns to keep her thoughts from slipping to places that they shouldn't go.

The Wire Frame was her gallery, the pride and joy of her various institutions throughout Suprenum, and the one that she had bought first when she'd made her debut in the city. Charlize stepped through the glass doors at the front of the building with a nod to her security guards and smiled at the various paintings and frames that dominated the front room. Unlike the great wooden frames that most paintings used, hers were hung by wires too thin to see, suspending them in mid-air as if they were hung by invisible hands rather than by hooks and other tricks. It made them pop in ways that mere frames never had.

But it was the wire frame statues that really held the eye. They were imitations of the various heroes and other supers that had come to Suprenum since it changed its name from Guadao and became the City of Heroes, and they were crafted in just such a way that they remained poseable. Despite being physical rather than digital, they were as poseable as the wireframes used by programmers for their renders and games, and were quite accurate to the nobility of various physiques.

Charlize slowed, running her hands down the broad backs of the male frames, over the sides and hips of the female ones. She paused at the bulges that stood out conspicuously on some of the more slender frames, and the indentations on some of the bigger ones. Every variety had its own sort of beauty, and though it was perhaps a little salacious for the public space, it was hers, and the panther chose how to decorate her space as she would.

One of her staff darted across the room as soon as he saw her, and Charlize raised an eyebrow at the hurried pace. The tabby cat immediately slowed, standing up a bit straighter as she approached. Proper behavior, proper decorum had been restored.

"My apologies, Mrs. C, but the artist is already here," the tabby said.

"So early?" She arched an eyebrow. "That is hardly allowed, Ms. Warbler."

"I know, I know. But he insisted, and -"

"I assume that he has been taken to my office."

"Yes, Mrs. C."

"And he is alone?"

"...Yes, Mrs. C."

"Good. Thank you for telling me."

"Do you want me to -"

"You can get back to work. I believe that we have a payment due for the Harrow collection; why don't you give the estate a call and make sure that we are current on our accounts while I deal with him?"

"Yes, ma'am."

As Ms. Warbler nodded, Charlize was already on the move. The rest of the gallery would have to see to itself for the moment while she straightened this out.

Jericho, an owl that had come to her with various paintings and frames of his own, had been a pushy little man. She remembered the first time that he had come to the gallery, demanding that she see him rather than making an appointment like all the other artists did. She'd known that something was in the offing from that alone, and had debated sending him away, but there was something rather endearing about the young avian's soft cheeks and fluffy, indignant ways. It was childishly cute, she supposed, but it did not exempt him from the rules of proper behavior. She would have to put her foot down about this.

She walked down the thin halls of the gallery, passing by several more paintings and more of the posed wire frames that loomed taller than their models ever had been. The panther paused at one that had been tilted in a different direction, reaching up to adjust his arms to block the hallway. It was as good as a sign for her employees, ensuring that they took the message that the hallway to her office, and the office itself, was off-limits for now.

That done, she reached for the door. It was a deep black wood, something that she had ordered painted by one super who had since retired from public life. He'd had quite a talent for changing the color of non-living objects, using it both for disguise and for decoration, and as far as she knew, he'd gone into a great interior decorating career. She wondered what had happened to him. Perhaps she'd look him up and see if he still had some openings. The Gallery might be due a revamp in the next year.

As she opened the door, the owl pacing back and forth behind the guest chair suddenly stopped and whipped his head around in the peculiar way that every owl did. The way that it tilted the neck and the neck alone, pulling nothing in the shoulders the way that non-birds would have been required to do, was quite odd to see. Exotic, of course, but nothing more than that.

"Jericho," she said, nodding as she shut the door behind her. "I believe that we have to have a chat about appointments. Or perhaps, defining them, if talking about them is beyond your capability."

"Don't do this to me. I need -"

"Ah. You need something from me? Then you ask. Properly."

"..."

"Or I can show you the door."

"I know what you are."

"Is that so?" Charlize smiled, deliberately focusing on that little muscle that was trying to twitch upwards to show a fang. "Then why are you here?"

"...Because -"

"Because you need something. So, let's not pretend that threatening me will get you what you want. Instead, let's remember that you want something, I have it, and I will only give it for the right price. A piece of advice, owlet; I don’t take payment in threats."

The owl clicked his beak in obvious frustration, his feathers ruffled out and his feathered arms running down to useless, digit-less ends. There were no fingers there, no claws such as were on some of the other avians in the city, forcing the owl to rely more on the talons at the ends of his legs to grip things. She had seen a number of them just like him, but he still had something to offer.

Charlize gestured to the guest chair, and the owl slowly sat down. His vest fluttered as much as he did as he took his seat, and his short black pants clung tighter as he squirmed back and forth on the leather seat. The panther walked around him, her tail twitching as her head threatened to start pounding. Intrusive thoughts that were not suitable for the moment began poking at her, doing what they always did when she didn't have something to drag her focus along properly.

She sat down on her side of the desk, leaning back and crossing one leg idly. She fixed her eyes on the owl's as she had thoughts of -

Thoughts that had no bearing on this. She pushed them aside, focusing on the moment instead, taking the time to make herself observe her guest and his physique, his attire, the things that he had to offer her. He was slender enough, clearly not possessed of the muscle to properly fly, despite having the anatomy to do just that. He was one that kept to the ground, soft and fluffy in the upper half while thicker and stronger in the lower.

He would do well as someone to pose for her wireframes, but she put that thought out of her mind again. There was time for that later.

"Now, let's try that again, Jericho. You aren't here for a meeting about your art, then?"

"...No, Mrs. C."

"Ah. Then you are here for my other services."

"...Yes, Mrs. C."

"You see how much better a result you get with proper manners, Jericho?" Charlize smiled. "Now, tell me. What are you?"

"What -"

"Don't play coy, now. If you want the other services, then you have something hidden under all those feathers and all this bravado. You're a super, at least of some sort, and you want what I can do for supers. So...are you a hero, or a villain?"

The owl squirmed, turning to look over his shoulder. Ah, someone undecided, then. She'd seen enough of them; they always came to Suprenum with the idea of becoming something, embracing their power, but a surprising number of them were tempted when they crossed the border to be something other than the dream. Heroes were wonderful, at least to most of the public, but there were only so many openings for them. Criminals were not so daring as they used to be, and there were far more openings for those with super powers in the civil service, or - as some of the companies funding Suprenum were taking advantage of - in the private sector. They had plenty of jobs for those that had more flexible morals.

Charlize folded her hands over her lap, leaning her head to the side as she felt her smile become more natural. Jericho turned back to her.

"I want to be...well...I think..."

"Hero...or villain?" she asked again.

"What if you -"

"Let me be blunt, hmm? I don't really care either way. If you become a hero, then you will remember that you were here, and that you're only on those heights because of me. If you become a villain, you'll know I know who you are, and you won't be stupid enough to try something against me. So long as I get what I want, dear, what you want to be doesn't matter."

The panther could see the struggle on the owl's face as his beak clenched tight enough that she could hear it grinding against itself. He clearly wasn't ready for this, which meant that hero work was well outside his capabilities. If he couldn't make a decision about this, if he couldn't follow through with either a threat or a bargain, then super-work would eat him alive.

At least, as he was, it would. There were ways to get around that, and it truly depended on just what he wanted from her.

Jericho clicked his beak, his facial feathers pushing out in wide swathes around the sides of his head. He groaned, leaning forward to press his head to his wings.

"...I want...I hope I can be a hero."

"But..."

"But my power isn't enough. I managed to...unlock it...activate it..."

At least he wouldn't need her to do that. It was always more of a pain to open someone's power than it was to refine it. She would have declined her services for that; he wasn't sufficient payment for that sort of exertion, no matter how unique he might have been. Jericho continued.

"But I can't do much with it."

"What can you do?"

"It's...dust."

"Dust?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Dust. I make dust."

"...Interesting."

"I mean, it's useless, really. It's a smokescreen at best, something to distract people, but -"

She held up her hand and he obliged her by going silent. There were many different ways to view dust creation, depending on how he actually did it. If he could create it with any force behind it, that meant that there were ways to weaponize it. If he could create enough to make a smokescreen, then that would clog up endless numbers of machinery, making it difficult to pursue him and making cover for his allies at the same time. There were many ways that such a power could be useful, both to him, and to others.

There might be something worthwhile with this owl, after all.

But Charlize didn't let it show on her face. Instead, she kept the same smile that she was known for as the Curator. She leaned back in her seat, nodding her head.

"I can see how you would want my help. But...you know there is a price."

"I...heard. But not specifics."

"It's simple. You become mine."

"What does that mean?" he asked, his feathers rising so anxiously high that they were all but pushing his vest off his shoulders. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing untoward. Bluntly, I will give you what you want. In return, I will get something from you in the future. You will have that power until you fulfill that favor, at which point, you'll have to decide whether you want to keep that power - in which case, we'll have to make another contract - or if you want to go back to what you are now. By the time that I call that favor in, there might be something that you've found out about yourself that means that you don't need the contract anymore. Or, perhaps, you will need to give yourself over once more to keep at the level that you've carved out for yourself."

It was a cruel contract in its own way. She knew that it was not entirely nice, and it was the third of three reasons why she was considered a villain by those that knew about her. The second was the ability to take control of others that way that she could, something that the majority of the 'empowered' community looked down on.

But it was something that offered others hope, and there was more than one super that had come to her, hero or not, and offered to make a deal when they were in sorry shape. They were more than willing to bend their own rules when it came down to standing up to greater evils.

It was something that she appreciated, if she was honest. It meant that the heroic actions and supreme power that some of the heroes possessed hadn't quite broken their humanity. They still feared, they still wanted, they still felt things. There was no loss of the mortal traits just yet.

Jericho looked down at his lap. His breath came faster, slower, then faster again as his feathery limbs twitched. She waited, not even tapping a finger as tail twitched just out of sight behind her. The seconds ticked by, and she waited for him to make the inevitable decision.

"I...I'll do it." The owl sighed. "I can't believe that this -"

"It's a simple favor," she said, shaking her head. "And it's one that gives you what you want. Let's not make it too dramatic. Now...take off your clothes."

He whipped his head back up, his beak falling open. She chuckled.

"I sign what I own, dear. It's called a signature. Every artist has one."

"..."

"Now, off with your clothes and onto my desk."

Normally, she would have written her name somewhere that didn't matter too much, somewhere that would stay hidden from the average eye. It was common courtesy, after all, and she didn't want to humiliate most of those that came through her doors. However, Jericho had come to her with more abrasiveness than any of her other clients, and she would not let that go unpunished.

As he took off his clothes, the difference between his upper and lower half became more pronounced. His feathers hid the slit where his cock lay, but there were just a few little nodules just under it where the bulge of his internal testes could be seen. She ran her finger down between his legs, touching him gently -

A flash of another image, of a long-clawed finger shoving deep inside another woman's sex invaded her mind. The view of soft white fur pressed against dark scales, the scent of pussy, the harsh heat of sweat and musk and warmth of two bodies slamming together forced its way through her head.

Charlize's finger almost shook, and the only reason it didn't was her iron control of herself. She pulled her hand up along the slit again, taking her time to tease it, leaving Jericho shivering as he climbed onto her desk and spread his legs for her. His talons, soft yellow things that were slightly grayed underneath, were just wide enough for her purposes.

"Yes...yes, that will do."

Gripping him by the ankle, she lifted one of his legs up, holding his talons up in the air for her to see. There was no sweat to them, nothing to dampen or erase her touch. A few little dust spots, yes, but such things were inevitable for someone that had to walk around with them exposed, using them for hands. She stroked her claw along the bottom of his claws, mentally fighting off other thoughts, other sights, other sensations that were coming to mind in that distracted moment. Her face wanted to twitch and twist as they came to her, but she kept it from showing any signs. It was tricky, hard to maintain that stiffness and iron control without looking like she was clenching up, but from the embarrassed expression on Jericho's face, she was pretty sure that she had managed it.

"What...what are you going to do?" he asked.

"I'm going to put my name here. A signature for the contract that we've signed."

"How -"

"My power works through you. Consider my name my influence."

It was simplicity itself to start scrawling the name of her super identity upon him. A simple 'T' began it, elaborated with a purple glow that embedded itself into the scales of his talons. It ran from the heel spur all the way to the three 'toes' that tipped his foot, ending with the 'r' of Curator. As she wrote it, she felt the tenuous links of her power reaching through him. It was always a moment of feeling stretched, as if time and space and physicality was pulled from both sides, anchored in her core but pulling out at her extremities towards its target. She felt thin, felt pulled tight and taut, like everything inside was compressed and expanded and all too much for her body to contain -

And then contact.

And then release.

Her lungs relaxed as the air came rushing free, her eyes closing as her power made connection with him. She didn't touch his power, not precisely, but rather where it started. There, in the body, following the nervous system right up to the brain. Just like with all other supers that had accessed their powers, there was a point in the mind where a metaphorical switch had been flipped, where a submerged neural network had finally connected itself to the rest of the brain, allowing for conscious use of something that would never otherwise trigger.

Charlize's power did two things when it worked on another person. It amplified the connection that had been formed by the initial activation of that subnetwork of neural connections, allowing for greater amplification of the power in question - or, in some cases, redirecting it to either activate it for the first time or even grant someone another sort of power - and it installed a switch that went to the other, primary neural network, waiting to trigger when she demanded it. That second trigger would give her the favor that she asked for when the time came, no ifs, ands, or buts. It was total, absolute, but only usable once before she had to make another contract like this.

But more than anything at that moment, it was that connection suffusing her that eased her. That space, that sudden ease of the tightness and crowded feelings in her own mind, was everything. She barely kept from panting at the raw relief that came from opening it up again.

"Nnngh..."

And then, the naked owl dragged her back to reality. Even now, she could feel some of him coming back down the connection between them. The mark that she left on their minds meant that she had to deal with what came back through them, which was a major reason behind her pickiness with clients. This one, with his power and his potential, could become useful enough to tolerate the bratty behavior that he exhibited, but it was borderline.

At worst, she would rescind her bargain after a month by using her favor up, and then refuse to give it back. It was a month of patience, and that was more than she imagined most mentors would have given him.

As he shivered, his cheeks burning, she could tell that he was sorting himself out. He probably didn't understand what had just happened, what the signature had done. She, however, was not in a place to educate him. Instead, she stood up, moving around him.

"You may get dressed," she said, shaking her head. "Your power has increased."

"But - how - what did you do?"

"What I promised. I believe that you'll find that you can do more."

"How -"

"Hmmph."

More than anything, Charlize wanted to be alone at that moment. If he had been a more valuable or appealing prize, perhaps she might have had the inclination to make use of an implied favor right then and there. More than once, she had made a deal with a super and had her fun with them right over her desk, but for all that he was interesting, unique, exotic, he wasn't her type. There was too much immaturity there, too little to play with, too little to play off. It would be better to let him go and discover himself before even considering that.

But he clearly needed some answer. Shaking her head, she pointed at the far wall.

"How do you create dust?"

"Well, um...usually flapping my wings, but -"

"Then do that."

"Why?"

"As a demonstration. So you can understand something."

Jericho hesitated, then lifted his wings -

"Facing the door."

He nodded, turning around. He looked over his shoulder at her one more time, almost as if he was wondering what the point was. She gestured for him to go ahead. With a shrug, he brought his wings down in a firm flap.

What followed was a dust-storm that nearly stripped the paint from her walls, revealing the metal underneath it that formed the structure of the building. Charlize covered her eyes as some of the dust came flying back at them, knowing some of it had dirtied her dress but tolerating that. The coughing that followed - probably from Jericho gasping when he should have kept his mouth shut - was the only sound left.

Eventually, he managed to get his breath back, and he stared at the wall that looked like someone had taken a sandblaster to it. His mouth hung open.

"You...you made me..."

"I opened your potential," she said, smiling despite herself. "And that should be more than enough for you to make it as a super, if you have any intelligence about you at all. I'm sure that you do, or you wouldn't have found me, but do try not to disappoint me."

Even as he smiled, she could feel the fear coming back through their link. That would be present for some time, she supposed; a new contract always left that connection open until she found a way to fit it among all the others in the back of her head. He had no discipline over his thoughts yet, and that meant that she had all sorts of feelings and imaginings bombarding her.

He turned to look at her again, and she saw something else in his mind. A hunger, a curiosity -

"Ah. No." She held up one hand as he started to speak. "I reserve that for special clients."

"But...but I could be a hero now. You - you could make me..."

It was almost charming to see that he wanted to be 'made' to do things with her, but he still wasn't her type. There was a hunger to be something special there, but not likely to be a good hero. It would remain to be seen how he used the power that she had unlocked for him, but perhaps it might help ground and improve him.

Or, perhaps, he would go off the deep end. That was possible, too. Sometimes, too great a power or too great an opening of the mind led to more selfishness, more grasping behavior. The world was filled with variety and variables, and she had seen clients go every which way.

But her statement remained true. As long as she got what she asked for, it didn't matter which direction her clients went, at least at first. Some...got closer, and those could be managed, could be treasured, and she had her own feelings about them. But those had time to grow valuable, and he had not.

"Go on. You should practice."

"..."

"Of course, make sure that they don't see too much of that signature. After all, do you want them to know that a villain helped you?"

His face went pale, and he ran, a flash of her signature on his talons all that she saw before he ran out the door. A soft 'clang' confirmed that he wasn't looking where he was going as he ran into the wireframe blocking the way, and she shook her head as she sat down. A quick call to Ms. Warbler got a janitor en route to her office, and that would deal with the mess.

Charlize reached for her computer, opening a music program. The chaos in her head was getting a little out of control; it was time to give it some order again.

The End

Summary: Charlize, otherwise known as the Curator, goes about a bit of her daily life in Suprenum, a city dedicated to the build-up of supers.

Tags: Shemale/solo, S/solo, I/solo, Panther, Owl, Age Difference, Nudity, Morning Wood, Body Control, Supers, Series, Body Writing, Superpower, Superhero,