Raymon sat in his car with the curious remote. It was overly simplistic, to the point of being silly. There are only 4 buttons: DETACH, REATTACH, REALITY, and CLOTHES. Raymon found it comical, a snake oil salesman had finally conned him, but the little toy had peaked his curiosity enough that he had bought into the whole charade, if only to laugh about it with his friends later. Jokingly, he pointed the remote at his left hand and pressed DETACH. He yelped in surprise as without warning one moment his hand was attached at the wrist, when next it was in his lap, cleanly separated from his arm with a patch of fresh skin on the stump, and wriggling about wildly as he flailed his arms.
Several expletives later and a hand flung at the dashboard, and Raymon had himself under control again. He realized he could still feela nd control his hand, and just like the manual had said there was no blood, only smooth flesh. Now trusting in the power of the remote he placed his hand against his empty wrist and pressed REATTACH. Faster than he could blink his hand was once more a part of his body. He shook his arm like an idiot, his hand was firmly attached. he was grinning like an idiot. This was the coolest thing he had ever purchased, that he had ever seen. An idea formed in his head.
Raymon still had half a work day left, having visited the shop during his lunch break. As he headed back inside the offices of large tech company he worked for he was snidely greeted by the busty receptionist of the building, Tiffany, or Tiff to her friends. She was as stereotypical as they came, a secretary seemingly plucked out of a trashy 80's film. She was even doing her nails and answering calls at the front desk. What she made up for in looks, she severely lacked in tact and personality, and Raymon often wondered if the only reason she still had her job was due to his boss's 'favoritism' for her.
While she was occupied with watching her nails dry, Raymon pointed the remote at her chest. He noticed as her pressed the button that she wasn't wearing a bra today, another thing his boss seemed to like about her. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing had happened. And then her bust began to shift, ever so slowly, as though she were pulling her shirt up. And then suddenly, they slipped and landed on the floor beneath her with an audible plop. She looked down, and shrieked. The phone clattered to the table as she bent down, still screaming and picked up her breasts in shaking hands, raising them to her face as though to ask 'why?'. Raymon was rattled, not wanting to draw attention. He downright smashed the REALITY button and at once all was calm. Tiffany was apparently frozen, her face calm and relaxed, and unmoving. He walked over to her and waved her hands in her face. She seemed to register him, a faint flicker of the eyes, but remained otherwise docile.
He held up the manual, turning to the page about reality. Apparently, pressing the button for the first time would set the target to a semi-dormant state so that they could be 'edited' as the manual put it, without interruption on the recipient's part. A second press would release this state and their altered reality would begin, with the target now believing they had been in whatever state they had been changed too. A repeat of this process would 'freeze' the target again and allow you to change or undo anything and set them back to their default reality.
After reading this Raymond decided to add a little more to his testing of the remote. He pointed the remote at her head and caught it as it fell from her shoulders. He placed this on her desk, directly in front of her body. He picked up her breasts, enjoying the odd and pleasant feel in their detached state, and placed them beside her head. Stepping back, he once more pressed reality and Tiffany broke from her stupor. Her detached head gave him a sideways glare as she covered her exposed tits with a handkerchief she had produced from somewhere, in an effort to protect her modesty. She then resumed her work, placing her headset upon her detached head with a natural grace and began to take calls.
Raymon laughed and Tiffany rolled her eyes, the secretary not caring that she wasn't in on some inane joke of his. Smiling, he strode confidently to his cubicle.
