Diamonds are girl best friends
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 9
by
copier
· original author:
an188
The hotel room still hummed with residual static, the air thick with the scent of scorched electronics and their glowing blue-green release. Glitz and Glam lay tangled together on the ruined couch, silver hair mingling, daphne-blue skin slick and flushed. The duffel bag of cash rested between them like a sleeping dragon—thirty grand wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Not with bodies like these and powers that made the world feel small.
Glitz lifted her head from Glam’s chest, electric-blue eyes sparkling with wicked glee. “Jewelry stores,” she purred, tracing one long talon along Glam’s collarbone. “A few quick hits. I know a girl—Roxy from the old street-artist crew. She’s got fences who’ll take diamonds no questions asked and wash the cash clean. We could clear six figures in one night.”
Glam’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. She cupped Glitz’s face and pulled her down for a deep, lingering kiss. When they parted, saliva stretched in electric blue-green strands between their black lips. “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” Glam murmured, voice dripping malice and amusement. “And we’re about to become very friendly.”
They giggled—low, wicked, conspiratorial—then kissed again, tongues sliding, sparks crackling where mouths met. The room lit up briefly with tiny lightning flickers before they finally pulled apart, breathing hard.
They dressed fast—or tried to. The outfits they’d worn that morning—Glitz’s dark-navy crop top and seafoam miniskirt, Glam’s deep-teal crop with heart cutout and jester skirt—were now comically undersized. Fabric stretched skin-tight over every new curve and swell of muscle. Crop tops rode up to expose carved abs, skirts barely covered ass cheeks, sleeves strained against biceps, thigh-highs dug into thick quads like garters. Breasts pushed against necklines, threatening to burst seams with every breath. They looked obscene. Invincible. Perfect.
Each slung a side bag over one shoulder—black leather, studded with cheap teal accents—and slipped out.
The rundown lobby smelled of mildew and cheap cigarettes. Rolando lounged behind the chipped counter, tall and slim, pale skin almost translucent under fluorescent lights. Dirty blonde comb-over with that ridiculous tuft sticking out the back, unibrow furrowed over yellow-framed visor glasses with orange-tinted lenses. Dark gray-purple waistcoat over black-green collared shirt, fingerless gloves, gradient pants, polished black shoes. A classic small-time con man—steals wallets, skims deposits, threatens guests with fake eviction notices. Exactly why Glitz and Glam had chosen this dump: Rolando never called cops. Too many skeletons of his own.
He glanced up as the elevator dinged. Blinked. Didn’t recognize them at first. Then his eyes tracked the too-tight outfits, the silver hair, the daphne-blue skin. Recognition dawned—slow, then hungry. His gaze lingered on their sculpted arms, powerful thighs, gravity-defying breasts straining fabric.
“Well, well,” he drawled, voice oily. “Glitz. Glam. New… aesthetic. If you don’t cough up tomorrow’s rent, ladies, I’ll have to toss your pretty blue asses onto the street.”
They stopped. Threw identical disdainful looks over their shoulders.
Glitz turned first. She sauntered toward him with exaggerated sensuality—hips rolling, ass swaying side to side, large breasts thrust forward so the crop top rode even higher. She stopped inches from the counter, leaned forward until her cleavage was eye-level with him.
“Rolando, darling,” she purred, voice thick with smug contempt. “This shithole you call a hotel? The rooms smell like piss and regret. The sheets are crunchy. The hot water lasts thirty seconds if you’re lucky. And your ‘service’? Laughable. We’re done here. We’re leaving. And we’re never coming back.”
She reached across the counter, took his gloved hand in hers, and squeezed.
Bones creaked. Rolando’s face went white. A high-pitched scream tore from his throat.
Glitz leaned closer, lips brushing his ear. “Keep the change, sweetie,” she whispered with wicked sensuality. She released him. He cradled his hand, whimpering.
They strolled out without looking back, heels clicking like gunshots.
For the next few hours they played alibi. They hit three busy street corners across Havenridge—midnight approaching but the city still alive. Glitz cartwheeled and flipped with impossible grace, silver ponytail whipping, electric-blue eyes flashing under streetlights. Glam balanced her in one-handed presses, then launched her into soaring twists. Crowds gathered, phones out, cheering. Tips rained into their hats—mostly ones and fives, but enough to sell the story: just two eccentric performers pulling a late-night show. No one noticed how their too-tight outfits strained with every flex of new muscle.
At midnight they vanished into shadows.
Behind “Eternal Gems & Co.”—a high-end jewelry store on the waterfront promenade—they slipped into the alley. Steel back door. Reinforced. Alarm box blinking red beside it.
Glitz cracked her knuckles, silver hair swaying. “My turn. I’ll rip it like paper—”
Glam placed a hand on her arm, smiling evilly. “Wait. I want to try something.”
She pressed her palm flat against the electrical box. Blue-white current surged from her skin into the wires. The box sparked, smoked, then died with a pathetic pop. Lights inside blinked out. Alarm silenced.
Glam stepped back, smug. “Now you can tear it down.”
Glitz grinned wickedly. She gripped the steel door’s edges and pulled.
Metal screamed. Hinges tore free. The door crumpled like foil in her hands. She tossed it aside with a clang.
Inside, pitch black. But their glowing electric-blue eyes cut through the dark like night vision—no need for lights.
Glitz raised one finger toward a security camera in the corner. A thin lightning bolt leapt out—zap—the lens exploded in sparks.
Glam raised an eyebrow. “I disabled the systems, darling.”
Glitz giggled. “Not taking chances.”
They moved to the back room. The safe squatted there—thick steel, combination lock, heavy bolts.
Glitz didn’t hesitate. One punch. Two. Three. Each hit rang like a hammer on anvil. On the third the door buckled inward, lock shattering. She ripped it open.
Drawers of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, gold chains, rings. They giggled wickedly as they swept everything into their side bags—purses bulging in seconds.
“Too easy,” Glitz laughed, zipping her bag.
“Pathetic security,” Glam agreed, voice dripping contempt.
They slipped back into the alley, leapt in unison—Electrically Enhanced Jump—landing silently on the roof of a neighboring three-story building.
The moment their feet touched gravel—
—a wave of weakness slammed into them.
Legs buckled. Vision swam. Muscles that had torn steel felt like jelly. They collapsed to their knees, then flat on the roof, side bags clattering beside them.
“Glam… what the—” Glitz gasped, trying to push up. Her arms shook.
Glam’s eyes fluttered. “Fatigue… so strong…”
Exhaustion crashed over them like a tide. They couldn’t fight it. Silver hair fanned across dirty gravel. Daphne-blue skin pale under moonlight. They fell asleep—deep, helpless, dreamless—two goddesses reduced to vulnerable statues on a rooftop.
What happens next?
1. Glitz, half-conscious, crawls forward in desperation. Her hand brushes an exposed electrical cord dangling from a rooftop AC unit. Current surges into her palm—bright, revitalizing. Energy floods her veins, driving the fatigue away in seconds. She gasps awake, feeling stronger than ever. She realizes: they need electricity to recharge. Without it, their powers burn them out.
2. They sleep through the night on the roof. Morning sun wakes them—weak, shaky, powers dimmed. They’re starving, dizzy, barely able to stand. The transformation gave them incredible strength… but it comes with a price. They’ll have to figure out how to feed their new bodies before they collapse again.
Glitz lifted her head from Glam’s chest, electric-blue eyes sparkling with wicked glee. “Jewelry stores,” she purred, tracing one long talon along Glam’s collarbone. “A few quick hits. I know a girl—Roxy from the old street-artist crew. She’s got fences who’ll take diamonds no questions asked and wash the cash clean. We could clear six figures in one night.”
Glam’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. She cupped Glitz’s face and pulled her down for a deep, lingering kiss. When they parted, saliva stretched in electric blue-green strands between their black lips. “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” Glam murmured, voice dripping malice and amusement. “And we’re about to become very friendly.”
They giggled—low, wicked, conspiratorial—then kissed again, tongues sliding, sparks crackling where mouths met. The room lit up briefly with tiny lightning flickers before they finally pulled apart, breathing hard.
They dressed fast—or tried to. The outfits they’d worn that morning—Glitz’s dark-navy crop top and seafoam miniskirt, Glam’s deep-teal crop with heart cutout and jester skirt—were now comically undersized. Fabric stretched skin-tight over every new curve and swell of muscle. Crop tops rode up to expose carved abs, skirts barely covered ass cheeks, sleeves strained against biceps, thigh-highs dug into thick quads like garters. Breasts pushed against necklines, threatening to burst seams with every breath. They looked obscene. Invincible. Perfect.
Each slung a side bag over one shoulder—black leather, studded with cheap teal accents—and slipped out.
The rundown lobby smelled of mildew and cheap cigarettes. Rolando lounged behind the chipped counter, tall and slim, pale skin almost translucent under fluorescent lights. Dirty blonde comb-over with that ridiculous tuft sticking out the back, unibrow furrowed over yellow-framed visor glasses with orange-tinted lenses. Dark gray-purple waistcoat over black-green collared shirt, fingerless gloves, gradient pants, polished black shoes. A classic small-time con man—steals wallets, skims deposits, threatens guests with fake eviction notices. Exactly why Glitz and Glam had chosen this dump: Rolando never called cops. Too many skeletons of his own.
He glanced up as the elevator dinged. Blinked. Didn’t recognize them at first. Then his eyes tracked the too-tight outfits, the silver hair, the daphne-blue skin. Recognition dawned—slow, then hungry. His gaze lingered on their sculpted arms, powerful thighs, gravity-defying breasts straining fabric.
“Well, well,” he drawled, voice oily. “Glitz. Glam. New… aesthetic. If you don’t cough up tomorrow’s rent, ladies, I’ll have to toss your pretty blue asses onto the street.”
They stopped. Threw identical disdainful looks over their shoulders.
Glitz turned first. She sauntered toward him with exaggerated sensuality—hips rolling, ass swaying side to side, large breasts thrust forward so the crop top rode even higher. She stopped inches from the counter, leaned forward until her cleavage was eye-level with him.
“Rolando, darling,” she purred, voice thick with smug contempt. “This shithole you call a hotel? The rooms smell like piss and regret. The sheets are crunchy. The hot water lasts thirty seconds if you’re lucky. And your ‘service’? Laughable. We’re done here. We’re leaving. And we’re never coming back.”
She reached across the counter, took his gloved hand in hers, and squeezed.
Bones creaked. Rolando’s face went white. A high-pitched scream tore from his throat.
Glitz leaned closer, lips brushing his ear. “Keep the change, sweetie,” she whispered with wicked sensuality. She released him. He cradled his hand, whimpering.
They strolled out without looking back, heels clicking like gunshots.
For the next few hours they played alibi. They hit three busy street corners across Havenridge—midnight approaching but the city still alive. Glitz cartwheeled and flipped with impossible grace, silver ponytail whipping, electric-blue eyes flashing under streetlights. Glam balanced her in one-handed presses, then launched her into soaring twists. Crowds gathered, phones out, cheering. Tips rained into their hats—mostly ones and fives, but enough to sell the story: just two eccentric performers pulling a late-night show. No one noticed how their too-tight outfits strained with every flex of new muscle.
At midnight they vanished into shadows.
Behind “Eternal Gems & Co.”—a high-end jewelry store on the waterfront promenade—they slipped into the alley. Steel back door. Reinforced. Alarm box blinking red beside it.
Glitz cracked her knuckles, silver hair swaying. “My turn. I’ll rip it like paper—”
Glam placed a hand on her arm, smiling evilly. “Wait. I want to try something.”
She pressed her palm flat against the electrical box. Blue-white current surged from her skin into the wires. The box sparked, smoked, then died with a pathetic pop. Lights inside blinked out. Alarm silenced.
Glam stepped back, smug. “Now you can tear it down.”
Glitz grinned wickedly. She gripped the steel door’s edges and pulled.
Metal screamed. Hinges tore free. The door crumpled like foil in her hands. She tossed it aside with a clang.
Inside, pitch black. But their glowing electric-blue eyes cut through the dark like night vision—no need for lights.
Glitz raised one finger toward a security camera in the corner. A thin lightning bolt leapt out—zap—the lens exploded in sparks.
Glam raised an eyebrow. “I disabled the systems, darling.”
Glitz giggled. “Not taking chances.”
They moved to the back room. The safe squatted there—thick steel, combination lock, heavy bolts.
Glitz didn’t hesitate. One punch. Two. Three. Each hit rang like a hammer on anvil. On the third the door buckled inward, lock shattering. She ripped it open.
Drawers of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, gold chains, rings. They giggled wickedly as they swept everything into their side bags—purses bulging in seconds.
“Too easy,” Glitz laughed, zipping her bag.
“Pathetic security,” Glam agreed, voice dripping contempt.
They slipped back into the alley, leapt in unison—Electrically Enhanced Jump—landing silently on the roof of a neighboring three-story building.
The moment their feet touched gravel—
—a wave of weakness slammed into them.
Legs buckled. Vision swam. Muscles that had torn steel felt like jelly. They collapsed to their knees, then flat on the roof, side bags clattering beside them.
“Glam… what the—” Glitz gasped, trying to push up. Her arms shook.
Glam’s eyes fluttered. “Fatigue… so strong…”
Exhaustion crashed over them like a tide. They couldn’t fight it. Silver hair fanned across dirty gravel. Daphne-blue skin pale under moonlight. They fell asleep—deep, helpless, dreamless—two goddesses reduced to vulnerable statues on a rooftop.
What happens next?
1. Glitz, half-conscious, crawls forward in desperation. Her hand brushes an exposed electrical cord dangling from a rooftop AC unit. Current surges into her palm—bright, revitalizing. Energy floods her veins, driving the fatigue away in seconds. She gasps awake, feeling stronger than ever. She realizes: they need electricity to recharge. Without it, their powers burn them out.
2. They sleep through the night on the roof. Morning sun wakes them—weak, shaky, powers dimmed. They’re starving, dizzy, barely able to stand. The transformation gave them incredible strength… but it comes with a price. They’ll have to figure out how to feed their new bodies before they collapse again.
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June 13
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