I Like Trauma!

Kline stared at Bell with panic, terror, and anxiety pulsing through his veins. "Bell?"

The pain-stricken virgin eeked out her name reflexively, bypassing his thoughts and pain. The moment her name left his lips, he instantly regretted it. After all, if his mother didn't recognize him, he could've pretended not to know her. Unfortunately—

Bell blinked twice in perplexion, staring at him. "It really is you, Kline. I didn't mishear the receptionist after all."

Kline shook his head noncommittally, opening and closing his mouth, trying to find words. He wanted to declare [you have the wrong guy], but it was pointless.

He didn't dislike Bell. In fact, she made him feel comfortable after spending almost a fourth of his life in the same room with her. That wasn't the issue!

The issue was that her presence triggered misfortune for all women who talked to him!

He graduated in a hospital bedroom and prayed that his curse would end after high school when he'd never see her again. Now, only a month into the summer, they were reunited!

If they hadn't gone through dozens of investigations together, many of them criminal, he would think she was the hacker. However, they had, so he trusted that she was clean.

Her presence was sheer bad luck. Now, he'd be dealing with a professional ninja assassin, Bell, and trying to build a harem. Classic.

"Yeah, it's me." Kline sighed, "I know I look different… it's a funny… not really funny... extremely not funny story. What are you doing here?"

"I was invited to the leadership retreat like everyone else." Bell replied in a light haze, "What are [you] doing here, Kline?"

He began answering but stopped when he realized something surreal. They were talking!

The two hadn't spoken a single word to each other since they were ten. Now they were casually chatting? It was surreal—

—and seriously uncomfortable. Talking to women made him nervous in general; talking to Bell gave him anxiety. So he looked around, desperately searching for an escape route.

"Rit Manson invited me as a guest." Kline dry-swallowed, "I'm not sure why, to be honest, but that's why I'm here."

Her eyes widened in astonishment but narrowed almost immediately afterward.

"Wait, you're the guy attending the leadership retreat?" Bell asked suspiciously.

"Yes, he is." Rebecca announced, looking down at them with a strange smile, glancing back and forth between the two.

They saw her smile, turned to each other, and turned bright red. Their faces were extremely close, with Bell on her hands and knees.

Bell stumbled backward, and he [tried] to do the same, but—

BAM!

—he slammed his head against the back desk using his super strength.

Now he had hurt both of his heads, but he didn't notice because the impact knocked him out.

—Learn You a Thing Moment: Kline's Superhuman Abilities—

Here's the thing about Kline's superhuman ability—it only healed him. That's all.

Well, it also produced a sex-driving pheromone that drove women crazy as a bi-product. But that was less a superhuman ability and more a shockingly agreeable ticking timebomb of cultured misfortune.

As for his super strength, speed, and stamina, it was all facilitated with healing alone.

Kline's super healing made his body a walking steroid factory, a neverending muscle-building assembly line. It was so extreme that getting wounded built muscle. That was the * he didn't read at the bottom of the [muscles without exercising] statement he agreed to.

After a person learned that, they'd realize something profound about Kline's Greek statue body—it was tragic AF! Dr. Irvine had a talent for finding the right tools to make his body perfect. His face required a ball peen hammer, his muscles? A sander with 60-grit extra-coarse sandpaper.

As for speed and other physical movements, his healing meant he had no limiters.

While ordinary people have to stop running when their muscles break down, and pain tells them to stop to prevent damage, his body healed in real-time, allowing him to run forever.

Super healing perfected eyesight and hearing to an unreasonable degree and made it impossible to get physically addicted to substances. That meant that he could abuse any enhancement drug available—or any substance, for that matter.

Lastly, his neuroplasticity was like a child's, so he should be learning voraciously. His current cognitive state merely showcased his praiseworthy devotion to idiocy.

In short, regenerative healing made him superhuman in all ways.

However! His healing hadn't strengthed his bones, and it couldn't restore broken synapse connections from brain damage.

As a result, smashing his head against the desk cracked his skull, and he suffered a concussion—symptoms and all.

—

Kline opened his eyes slowly, trying to figure out where he was or what had happened. His mind felt partially amnesic. "Where am I?"

He looked down and found himself in a familiar place—a hospital bed. More specifically, it was a simple clinic bed for first aid onsite.

"You're in the nurse's office." A hypnotic voice called out. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't remember from where.

The confused virgin looked to the side and found a cute brunette with light green eyes sitting in a bedside chair. However, her voice and her appearance didn't match up.

While her voice was calm, her eyes were vicious and not pointed at him. She was staring straight ahead with a murderous glint in her eyes.

Kline turned his head, following her gaze. When he reached her glare, he found a beautiful redhead with a curvy body fiddling with the top button of her white button-up while staring at him.

He couldn't understand what she was doing or… wait, did she unbutton one of her shirt buttons!? Jesus fucking Christ, she was moving to a second one! Her dark blue bra was peaking out at him!

The hopeless virgin didn't know where he was or the meaning of sexual conquest. However, his body did, and it was teaching him all about it!

However, the minute his flag started lifting—

"Ahem!" Bell coughed loudly, making his heart pulse and capturing the redhead's attention, "Care to explain why you're getting undressed around an unconscious teen? Hmmm?"

After a deep breath, the redhead dry-swallowed and looked at Kline, rubbing her legs together under her skirt. "I'm not getting undressed. It's just hot in here."

"Is that so?" The brunette mused viciously, "That's what the last employee said when I walked in, and she wasn't wearing a shirt. See?"

She tapped her smartphone screen, starting a video of the woman stripping down.

Kline watched the video with equal parts passion and indignation. Naturally, it was a very agreeable video to watch. However! Why wasn't he awake!?

A woman finally stripped for him, and he was asleep! What type of low-grade lite-tier ad-supported freemium life app did he get that only told him to pay after the moment had passed!?

Bell's eyes widened in jolting surprise when she saw him watching the video, and she quickly turned the phone away from him and continued.

"Of course, that was her, buuuuuuuut...." The brunette said dramatically, "You're far more entertaining. Would you like to see yourself fondling your breasts while staring at him?"

Kline's eyes maxed out their wideness, and he prayed to any god that would listen to him. Jesus! Buddha! Krishna! Zeus! The flying spaghetti monster! Some god, any god, please hear his plea and inspire the redhead to say yes! He asked everyone. Unfortunately—

"It's a great video." Bell continued with a sinister smile, "I titled it in my phone as: Sexual Misconduct at Swanson Resort and Spa. It's flattering; I'm sure it'd look good on your legal resume."

—the rest of the brunette's statement was a real chub killer.

Kline turned sharply to the redhead, whose eyes trembled, looking at him with a tense, fearful expression. The look she gave him sent waves of deja vu crashing through his body.

"That expression…." The pensive virgin whispered inaudibly. He felt like he had seen that distinctive expression more times than he could count, but he couldn't figure out from where! It was so aggravating.

The redhead timidly buttoned her shirt up and gave the brunette an uncertain expression. "I understand this misunderstanding doesn't look… professional. What can I do to ease your mind?"

"If this weren't an all-female retreat, I'd ask you be detained, you cock-hawking floozy." Bell declared coldly, "However, as disagreeable as it is, you are.

So I only ask that you and the last garden gadget stay away from this man. You know, for his safety. No one likes trauma."

'I like trauma!' Kline screamed internally, wishing he'd wake up with that redhead riding him. It made his mouth drool slightly. He was currently an open book of consent!

"Hey, I don't think she did anything wrong?" He said, "In fact—"

Unfortunately for the un[trauma]tized teen, they ignored him.

"Understood." The redhead said with a tense expression, afraid to look at him anymore.

'There is again!' He screamed internally, seeing her distinctive, negative expression, 'I feel like I've seen that face countless times before. But where?'

The employee stood and brushed off her black, knee-length skirt, bowed slightly, and left the room.

As she left, his eyes welled with loneliness and despair, feeling like a piece of him had left with her. So much potential lost; so many dreams broken.

He doubted he'd ever get a shot at having surprise, wake-up virginity-loss sex again! It was 100% the ultimate goal with 0% of the awkwardness! The lost potential cut deep.

"AHEM!" The brunette coughed next to him.

His eyes widened in vexation, and he turned to her with indignant eyes that screamed, [oh yeah, you're here—whoever you are], and prepared to lay into her for her rude, cock-blocking behavior.

However, his emotions mellowed the instant he laid eyes on her. Not only was she gorgeous, but something about her triggered strange, positive emotions in him.

Unfortunately, the brunette's emotions [didn't] mellow when she looked at him.

"Care to explain why I, and the rest of these women, want to sexually assault you in your sleep?" Bell asked with a murderous gaze.

Kline's eyes widened in bewilderment and pointed at her, then to his chest. The message: you want to assault me? Like… sexytime smash smash? Jerry flunk the rope swing? Pillage the ice rink?

The hopeless virgin's brain was so scrambled he smashed random words together in his mind to confirm her statement.

"Sex, Kline." Bell laugh-scoffed in annoyance, "I feel a raging desire to have sex with you. Why the fuck do I have a raging desire to have sex with you?"