Jennifer Chapter 4

John was a man with little to his name. Having a career consisting only of working for the better part of a decade at a local hardware store, he was hardly in the position to be spending money frivolously. The walls of his apartment were sparse, his collection of games and books moderate, and the few decorative pieces on his kitchen and coffee table could be found in the homes of a million other big-box department store shoppers around the country. Despite this, there were two things he owned that he could truly say he treasured. One was the weathered index card with his great-grandmother’s famous recipe for pot roast, a recipe he had nearly committed to memory thanks to how often he made it. The other was a golden ring, monogrammed with a single “J” on the front. Tonight, both items would see their use.

Fresh out of the oven, the deep pan that held the roast was still covered with foil as he let it rest, aromatic steam pooling under the metallic tent. As satisfying as letting the buildup loose would be, the fork tender meat that would come as a result of his patience and restraint would be an even greater reward. Moving away from the stovetop and over to the closet, John went about removing his one fancy set of dinnerware from the bubble wrap he stored it in.

Taking the stack over to the table and pulling out a second chair, he went about setting up two places at opposite ends of his small, circular table. Plates, forks, spoons, napkins… he considered for a moment not giving her any utensils and seeing how she would respond, but he was certain that if she wanted to show off, she would do so irregardless. Finishing off the arrangement was the thin-stemmed wine glasses set on both places. He didn’t actually have any wine, but she said she had that taken care of.

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It had been two months since he had first met Jennifer in her secluded mansion deep in the American Southwest. In the time intermittent, he had spoken to her every few days or so, casually getting to know her better and gradually coming to an understanding of what she is and what she does: the answer to both of those questions being “whatever she wants”. And while speaking to her through the ring she left him could be interpreted as talking to her directly, he wouldn’t really say that he had “seen” her since that one night. It wasn’t until just the week prior that she promised him she would “clear her schedule” and come to him for a night.

“Do you need my address or…?” John had excitedly stammered to the ring.

Despite being such a small object, the laughter that emitted from the gold band filled the room and made it seem like her full human form was sitting right beside him. “C’mon man! I’ve been in your house for weeks now! The only reason my lovely self isn’t sitting in your room right now is because I want to get you something nice!”

“Like what?”

“Just listen- eight o’clock, next Wednesday, right here. You set up something to eat, and I’ll bring the drinks. I’ll get the real good stuff, don’t you worry.” With a slight buzz on his finger, the ring once again went silent as Jennifer, somewhere out in the world, shifted her attention elsewhere.

The next week seemed to go on forever as John tirelessly went through his weekly shifts. Every workday consisted of him staring down the clock as the eight hours of his shift seemed to take an eternity to run their course. He found himself constantly thinking he had saw her, forming herself from just outside his field of vision. Did that poster just wink? Was that rope a stretched-out arm? He had to shake himself out of constant daydreams as he began to envision any of the customers he served throughout the day morphing into her before his eyes and wrapping him around in a sea of tangled limbs. It seemed like it would never end, but he made it through all the same. He finished every day exhausted and scatterbrained, yet as he finally plated the roast at 7:55 Wednesday night, he knew his patience was about to be rewarded.

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The knock came the exact moment the display on his TV flashed 8:00. Jennifer must be watching the room somehow, he thought, the display always ran about 3 minutes early. He glanced at the window as he made his way to the door. The blinds and curtains were left open and the pane directly faced the TV. He looked for something to be out of place or moved about on the windowsill, but also knew that it was unlikely Jennifer would be something that was at all noticeable. A leaf on the bush perhaps? A clear covering across the glass? Maybe she was already inside, even though he knew the ring was in his pocket. As he reached for the door, he stuck a funny face at the stack of books on the end table. It was highly unlikely that she was actually hiding there, but it was worth a shot.

John opened the door, ready for literally anything to be on the other side. To his surprise, however, what he ended up seeing was possibly the most mundane possibility of all. Jennifer stood tall in the long and dark-haired, olive-skinned body she had been in for most of that night two months ago. She once again wore a black dress, but it was far less flashy than the draping gown she wore back then. With the dress cutting off at just below the knees, Jennifer had actually bothered to form legs this time, and had on a pair of simple brown heels. Despite this, she didn’t seem any taller than she had before, so she must have shrunk herself just a few inches to compensate.

Jennifer stepped inside and immediately gave a toss of her head, setting off a wave of changes. A deeper shade swirled across her skin, reaching across her torso and into each limb as her face molded itself subtly under invisible pushes and pulls. Her hair shortened and waved, bunching up slowly until the tips barely brushed her shoulders as an intricately abstract tattoo blossomed into existence on her upper arm. She shrugged gently, as if to let a jacket that was draped across her shoulders fall to the floor. In doing so her clothing twisted, the dress cutting itself in two across her midriff as it repurposed itself, the top half becoming a loosely cut t-shirt. The lower half began to hug her legs as it fell, the soft fabric firming up into smooth denim. As her casual attire took its shape, her height dropped a few inches as her heels flattened out into a trendy pair of sneakers. With another few steps, she was in the living room. Jennifer turned back to John, who still stood in the doorway, letting him see the new shape she had slipped into.

“So, whadd’ya think? This a good look?”

“You look splendid.” John said as he closed the door. “Why the sudden change?”

“I’ve actually been favoring this one for a few days now. I think the ‘elegant’ look was getting to my head; I was starting to slip into this ridiculous posh accent. This look just feels a lot better.” Jennifer stuck a hand on her hip, “Wanted something more natural, keep things fresh. I just showed up in the other form to make sure you knew it was me. You usually catch on pretty fast so this was probably unnecessary, but still, I still don’t want to play home invader… at least not yet.” Holding her hand up in front of her face, she fanned her fingers as they swiftly transformed into a wide variety of keys and picks. She tried to give him an intimidating scowl, but her attempts at sternness cracked quickly and she ended up laughing instead. John returned an unimpressed glance, raising his eyebrows. Waving her hand back to normal, she turned towards the kitchen.

“Sorry about that; can I dump some ice?”

John pointed towards the sink. Jennifer’s torso arced through the room, passing by the table that was loaded with delicious food. While her legs meandered their way over to catch up, Jennifer suspended her torso over the basin. Plunging both hands into her chest, phasing through her t-shirt, she pulled open her torso like a book, her insides consisting of nothing but smooth, skin colored flesh underneath. A small cooler had been hidden within her torso, which she proceeded to place down into the sink. Opening it, she removed two large bottles of white wine, uncorked once already from a sneaky tasting and dripping with condensation. Jennifer immediately stretched her arms over the few feet needed to set them down on the table. Quickly getting out a third arm, she overturned the cooler, letting the ice slide out and gradually drip down the drain as her shirt and torso knitted themselves back together.

John had been watching Jennifer’s hypnotic shifting in a daze as he made his way to inspect the bottles she had laid out. “Alright, the first word here is Chateau- I’m not even going to attempt reading the rest.” He set them back down. “I’m going to guess you looked through the World Record books to find them?”

“Nah, I don’t think these guys even crack the top 10 on the price list. But-” Jennifer walked over to her place at the table, choosing to flow through the back of the chair, stepping through it as if it didn’t even exist. “-in about-” She stole a glance at the clock. “-10 minutes, the security for Her Majesty’s wine cellar are going to realize they have some explaining to do once the shift changes and they see what’s missing.” She gave a wicked grin. “There’s no fun in just forking over a stack of fake bills, I gotta get my challenges in somewhere.”

John uncorked the bottle, waving the open mouth beneath his nose. “Ah yes, you can really tell how the criminality really adds to the bouquet.”

“Oh, put a cork in it.”

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The meal was mostly quiet as they both served themselves the food John had prepared. While how much she ate, if she ate at all, mattered little to Jennifer, she figured two slices of the roast felt about right for the circumstances. Once they both were done, Jennifer cleared the table from her seat, sending the trays and utensils back into the kitchen upon dozens of stretched-out arms.

They both took a sip of the wine they had poured, still sitting at the now-empty table. “Alright, I’ll bite. How’d you manage to get halfway around the world carrying a cooler in your chest in under an hour? I gotta say I’m stumped.”

“Not even a guess? I was hoping some wild theorizing could give me some entertainment. Give me your top three at least.” Jennifer responded, sounding disappointed.

John ran his hands through his hair. “Uhh… really fast bird.”

Jennifer visibly bristled at that. “Really fast- Really? THAT’S your guess?” She drummed her fingers on the table angrily. “I stretch at Mach. Speeds. No dinky little bird form would be faster than just rocketing my torso across the Atlantic.”

“Is that what you did?”

Jennifer shot him a glare, her taps of her drumming fingers turning to clicks as they began to come to sharp points. She was about to tell him off for his weak guesses, but John’s straight faced expression cracked into a goofy grin, tickled at her frustration. “Sorry, sorry- couldn’t resist.”

She shook her head.

“Last one.”

“Alright, serious guess this time. I’ll say… set of tunnels. Right through the center of the Earth.”

“Ooh, good one- but still not it.” She leaned back in her chair as she held the wine glass, letting the pale liquid swirl around the edges with small motions of her wrist. She took a long drink. “I’m definitely taking that one though. Not sure how I’ll deal with all the magma, but I’ll figure something out.”

Jennifer stood up, clearly excited to start bragging. “Now, to answer your question.” She reached up and shoved her right hand into her right temple. Pulling it back out, she un-clenched her hand, revealing an ordinary touchscreen smartphone. Flipping it around to face her, her thumb branched out into numerous points and stuck at the screen swiftly, tapping out a long URL she had memorized in a split second. She stretched her arm across the table, letting John see the screen as the page began to load. As the words and images began to fill in, he could see that it was an article from a major news corporation, not even an hour old.

“MYSTERIOUS OBJECT FOUND CLINGING TO INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION”

Beneath the screaming headline was a picture taken from the surface of the station itself. With the great blue curve of the Earth visible in the background, the photo focused on one of the many antennae that littered the surface of the central hub. On it was an amorphous mass, roughly the size and shape of a ceiling-mounted punching bag, clinging to the thin beams with a long, sticky tendril. He glanced the text over, reading the key phrases: footage showed it coming from the surface of Earth while passing over the Atlantic, the object clung on for 40 minutes, and it detached over the US mainland, breaking into several pieces upon re-entry to the atmosphere. Seeing John look up from the screen, Jennifer retracted her arm as the phone was swallowed back into her hand.

“Pretty cool, right? This is why I had to make you wait so long, that timing was TIGHT! I had to wait until the exact day that the orbit lined up just right, but man was it worth it!”

“I’m surprised at your lack of subtlety, but impressed nonetheless.”

John poured a second glass of the rich-tasting wine and took a sip. As he set down his glass again, he let out a shiver. John didn’t go out drinking often and was certainly a lightweight. While he could certainly do another glass or two and remain functional, he wasn’t quite willing to risk going too overboard with such a powerful shapeshifter around. Glancing over at his date, he saw her start pouring yet another glass of her own, possibly her fifth, nearly having finished one if the large bottles all on her own.

“Does that stuff not affect you at all? I’m pretty sure I would be able to see a little impact by now if it did.” Despite not having too much first-hand experience, seeing some more of his more reckless friends get completely plastered had led him to becoming very clued in towards noticing the early signs of when someone was about to reach their tipsy tipping point. While he could easily assume that the physical signs would be morphed away, there didn’t seem to be any changes in how she moved or how she talked. Jennifer began to look slightly flustered at the question.
“Well…um-” Jennifer was quiet for a moment, deciding how to phrase her next words. “I think I could, but you see… I don’t know how.” John jumped back in his chair as her head suddenly split vertically, right down the middle of her face.  She pointed at the divide that was created, motioning at the surfaces that would have been blood and bone had it been anyone else. What instead lined each side was just more of her smooth, coffee-colored skin. Jennifer continued, her two half-mouths speaking in sync.

“See this? Nothing in here but Jennifer… stuff… I guess.” She pushed her head back together, the fissure melting into nothing as the halves fused together. “Unless I want to, whatever magic material I’m made of doesn’t really react to anything. I could light myself on fire, dump a bucket of acid on my head, or chug poison and I’d come out just the same.”

“But say I want to eat something. Fortunately, I can just shift myself some parts that react to taste. There were decades of me eating food before I became… what I am now, so my body knows how to replicate those experiences. Drinking, on the other hand…” Jennifer downed an entire glass of wine in a single swig and shrugged. “I was a boring kid. I guess I just don’t know how to fake it.”

“I see.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence before Jennifer sheepishly continued.

“So… I was hoping by bringing these bottles, I could try mimicking you. You know- once you started making a fool of yourself.”

“Gee, thanks.” John rubbed his forehead in slight bewilderment. “Well, I’m not quite sure what to tell you. Pretty sure you came to the wrong person if that’s what you are looking for. I only got completely wasted once, right after my graduation. Not terribly inclined to do so again.”
Jennifer wasn’t ready to give up though. “What did it feel like?” she asked inquisitively, as the workings of her mind began to shift and change. Within the uniform mass found in her head, the beginnings of nerves and neurons began to take shape as she silently recollected the medical documents she had studied over earlier. Her success in this endeavor didn’t actually hinge entirely on getting him drunk, and she had to keep a straight expression as she recognized that things were falling into place exactly as anticipated.

John began to recount his experiences at a wild graduation party he had gone to years ago. Jennifer listened to his tale, yet she also began to let her mind wander. Much like how she had gone about making a house, she began to let her subconscious take control as John’s words washed against her. It didn’t matter how vivid his account was; as long as he provided a constant description, her forming replica of a brain, along with the copious amount of wine she had already drunk, should be able to fill in the gaps. As John began to detail the way the first few shots made his head buzz, Jennifer felt the small changes in the back of her head as her body began to teach itself how to react to the chemicals that swirled throughout her. The small signals dashed and spread throughout her body, leaving her with a feeling of lightness and tingling energy. That feeling then began to intensify, leaving her awash in a rush of sensation.

“...I couldn’t really do anything the next day since my head hurt like crazy, but all in all I guess I could say I had a good time…” John, who had been swept up in telling his own story, looked across to see Jennifer with her eyes closed and slumped back in her chair. As he stared, he noticed her neck start to slowly tip over the back of the chair and begin lengthening its way to the floor. He watched in silence as it crept gradually, inch by inch, until it gently landed on the hardwood, the top of her head compressing against the floor as her still-lengthening neck collected in a ropy pile on her chin. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and lips slipped into a dazed smile.

“Ha- hahahahaha… John… John… what the fuck... you’re upside down…” Jennifer tried to get up, her legs pushing backwards on the chair to move it away from the table. Her push came a bit too strong though, as the entire chair fell backwards, flattening her strung-out head and neck under the weight of the chair’s back. With the rest of her body now completely sprawled over the floor, she lay limp as the slight sounds of snoring could be heard from under the heap of torso, limbs, and chair.