The Split Read Online Free PDF

arms.
                  Now I’m pulling myself up into the vent, which is no more than a foot wide on any side.  I slip deeper and deeper until eventually I can feel my feet lifting up off of the ground below, and soon enough I’ve disappeared completely into the tiny duct.
                  I slither for a few yards until I find another vent, this time located out over the hallway; the path to freedom.
                  From this side unfastening the screws is easy, and I manage to pop out the vent with relative ease.  The front panel drops onto the hallway floor with a clatter and I wince, desperately hoping that the sound won’t draw anyone’s attention.  As quickly as I can, I slide out of the vent and then immediately return to my usual proportions.
                  Briskly, I walk down the hallway towards the nearest exit, aching for freedom from this living nightmare until sudden I stop dead in my tracks.  There, staring down at me, are the new laboratory security cameras. 
                  All of that work I spent avoiding exposure was for nothing, because I know for a fact that the second I get home, the Department of Homeland Security will come knocking within the hour.  Everything has been caught on tape; my security breach, the nanobot exposure, and even my supernatural transformation.
                  I let out a long sigh, defeated, until I’m suddenly hit with yet another idea. 
                  The security office is close by, and the hard drives that record these video feeds are sitting out in the open, just waiting for me to unplug them and take off without a trace of evidence left behind.  Theft of Allencorp, and government, property only adds to the long list of problems I already have to deal with, but I’ve already gone too far to stop now.  Besides, the second I step out that door I’m technically stealing myself.
                  Without a moment to spare, I turn on my heels and head back towards the security office.
                  When I arrive, I’m met with yet another hurtle.  The office is not only locked, but currently being manned by a young guy, fresh out of college and about my age.  The guy stares blankly at his computer screen.  I can only see him through a small slit of glass in the room’s door, but from this angle I can plainly manage to make out the subtle reflection of hardcore porn reflecting off of the man’s stylish eyewear.
                  “Shit.”  I say aloud, spotting the hard drives of security footage that sit on the shelf behind him, slowly filling with data.
                  Once again my brain flips into emergency mode, coolly assessing the options at hand, of which there are very few.  If I was a bombshell like Jamie, I could simply walk in there, give the new guy a few playful winks and then take the drive without him even batting an eye.  However, these day’s I’m having trouble even getting noticed at all, let alone ogled and lusted after.
                  Suddenly, it hits me.  Maybe now, I can be a bombshell like Jamie.
                  I focus intently on the internal workings of my body once again, only this time I start to let my imagination run wild.  I picture my breasts like the ones that you’d see bouncing down the beach in a show about blonde bimbo lifeguards, my hair long and full, jet black as it cascades down my shoulders, and my face that of an exotic, European model.  I imagine myself with perfectly toned curves that turn my body into a womanly hourglass, and an ass that would make jaws drop.
                  Once again, my transformation is painless, but strange.  It doesn’t take long, and suddenly I find myself pulling out my phone to get a look at my imagination’s handwork with the front-facing camera.
                  The results are shocking, to say