==================== Evolution / 1 ==================== September 11, 2013. A young boy, just ten years old, arrives with his mother at his pediatrician's office, for his regular checkup. The checkup is routine; forms are filled out, polite talk about how much he's grown passes between his mother and the doctor. He receives, with hardly any resistance, what his mother is told is an immunity booster shot. He doesn't learn the whole truth about that event, until... September 27, 2025. A man is leaving work quite late on a Friday afternoon. He notices, at curbside across the tree-filled front lawn, a blue van, with a flat tire next to the open side door. As he approaches, a tall, attractive woman appears from behind the van carrying a scissors jack and handle; she sets these down in the van, and then stares at the fairly heavy tire for a few seconds. George doesn't always get involved in charitable causes, and doesn't look forward to hefting dirty tires into vans while wearing his nice clothes. But the case seems clear; he proceeds over to the woman and asks if he can help. This time he won't get any of his hopes up, he tells himself. A woman this attractive would never see anything in him; he hopes that she won't degrade herself by implying that he'll get rewarded for his efforts. "Oh, thank you very much," she tells him. "These things always happen to me... it's not even my van." That made sense. It didn't seem like much her style-- a blue mini cargo van, electric, but fairly beat up. George lifts up the tire, and the woman points to the plastic rack mounted inconveniently behind the drivers' seat where the tire belongs. He sets the tire down just inside the door, slides it in, and climbs up after it. He hears a sound. There's another woman hiding in the van's cargo area-- holding something-- Suddenly the door slides shut behind him. Something covers his face; he struggles for a moment. Suddenly he feels faint; then darkness surrounds him. An equally fateful day had begun. George awoke about an hour later to find himself naked, lying on his back on some kind of foam plastic mat on the floor, his limbs outstretched. He didn't recognize the room-- a windowless area with only one door-- as any place he had ever been. The woman with the flat tire, and the other woman who he vaguely recognized as the one who had ambushed him, were here. The taller woman still wore her stretch top and black, feminine jeans; the shorter one, who appeared considerably stronger, and attractive in a less-demure sort of way, had on a simple white sweater and blue jeans. This was the one who had her hands on George's erect penis, amusing herself with the freedom she had in touching it. George fought off initial fright upon waking to this scene. They hadn't harmed him, yet his arms and legs were bound to the floor; his first guess was that this was a planned rape. His mind already started racing; his imagination already saw the women undressing, the shorter one with the strong legs wrapping an undoubtedly powerful, wet vagina around him, the taller one finding other ways to use him for her amusement. No, this was fantasy. If a rape were impending, there was a reason. Perhaps they both intend to impregnate themselves! Once his semen had disappeared inside these two women, he'd have lost control of his own life. They could disappear-- with his growing children inside their bellies-- or, worse yet, actually hit him up for child support. Men were "never" raped; he'd never be able to convince anyone that it happened this way... It didn't make sense for this to be a kidnap for ransom, as there was nobody to which he was particularly valuable... plus, why would they have taken off his clothes? George's mind continued to race. Maybe it's just a pair of psychos, or... Finally he had to ask. "What do you plan to do with me? Rape me?" The shorter woman spoke. "I'd like to introduce myself. I'm Marcy, and Dara, here, is one of my best friends." George couldn't wait for the answer. "If you just let me go, I'll forget all about this." Marcy ignored the plea. "I'm afraid I can't tell you just yet. Let's just say... you're important to us." "Rape you?" Dara asked, incredulously. "Dear George, we're hardly the kind of women that would need to kidnap someone to have sex with!" She ran her hands down her sides, sliding them over her hips. That seemed logical to George. He found himself suddenly disappointed. Marcy took over. She was obviously the dominant personality here. "George, I'm going..." George was still catching up. "How did you know my name?" "We know quite a bit about you. That's why you're tied to our floor at the moment. Please don't interrupt again, or we'll see fit to punish you." Marcy pressed her knee into his side, causing obvious discomfort. "I don't want to hurt you. In fact, we're about to make your life a lot easier." She turned to Dara. "Gosh, we might as well just tell him now." "What if he does get away?" Dara answered. "I doubt it. Not this way, at least", Marcy replied, pointing to George. "And... if it doesn't work?" Marcy thought a second, and nodded. "Good point. Sorry, George, at the moment it's for your own good." George was still working on previous sentences. "This way?" "Shut up," Dara commanded. George was fearful at the moment. What would happen if "it" didn't work? Would they have to "rub him out"? Was it all just a joke? Did someone at work set him up for this? Someone who hired these two women to... Marcy brought both hands to her belt buckle. "Well, Dara, ready?" "Oh, yes, quite ready," Dara answered. She unsnapped and started to unzip the side-zippers on her tantalizing black jeans, revealing the sides of her equally-black panties. George was becoming excited again; maybe he would be raped after all, as he had found himself hoping a moment ago. His hormones were winning out over intellect for the moment. "Good. George, we're hoping to unleash something that's been inside you for a long time. That's why we've kept you... oh, 'secured' here. We can't very well expect you, yet, to cooperate with your captors." Dara, who had removed her jeans and panties, added: "We'll even give you a hint, George. How'd you like these?" She lifted her stretch top, revealing two well-developed breasts under the braless top. Then she let it snap back into place, the fabric quickly tightening itself around her bosom and restoring her perfect silhouette. Marcy scowled a bit at Dara, who was giving too much away. Then she smiled. "Well, then, would you like the honor of 'going' first?" "You don't mind? Why thank you, Marcy!" Dara straddled George's chest, facing him, and started to squat, exposing her pussy to him. Being only the second woman who's genitals he'd ever seen, he was riveted. He had been fantasizing about what this woman's body would look like only hours ago. His "unofficial" girlfriend, Karen, who spent quite a bit of time with George although refusing to go "steady" with him, had been the only other woman to treat him to a similar sight. They had made love several times, she obviously more experienced than he, and she had gone out of her way to teach him about her body. He never could have predicted the subtle variation from one woman to the next. His brief glimpse at her breasts told him more than he wanted to know; the fit of her top, he realized, did give away the real shape of its contents. But he really couldn't take his eyes off of her sex, which was slowly approaching him. "Gosh, it's like he's never seen a pussy before," Marcy commented. "Well, once or twice..." George mumbled. "Well, then," Dara said, moving up towards his face, and spreading her knees as she squatted back down. "Let's give you a good view." Her labia parted, which indeed did give him a good view. "Watch that little tiny opening just in front of my vagina." Dara looked up at Marcy, and both of them snickered at each other. The location of Dara's vaginal entrance was obvious, but George couldn't quite see the... Suddenly he realized what the women were snickering about. "Are you going to..." Dara looked down. "Pee on you? Why thanks, George, what a good idea... Just watch!" Marcy laughed outright. George, responding to the threat, suddenly struggled with all of his might, tightening the straps around his wrist. He kicked violently-- but was unable to move any limb more that a couple of inches. They were laughing at him! Angry, he tore his eyes away from Dara's genitals. Breaking out of his "trance", he looked up at her face. She was taking a deep breath, and was obviously about to begin urinating. They were right to giggle, George thought; what a fool he was! There he had been, gaze locked obediently where Dara told him, and now she was about to pee! She still didn't realize that he broken the "trance" for the moment, so he "harrumphed" at her. This successfully distracted Dara from the act she was ready to perform. She let out her breath, and looked down at him. George was steadfast, defiant, and stared right into Dara's eyes. Dara looked right at him, and he realized he hadn't decided what to say. He just stared intently, feeling his own anger build. Dara turned her gaze away and started to take another breath. "I'll get you both for this... somehow. You just think about that", George said, attempting his steeliest voice. "I don't think so," said Marcy. "Once your whole body is soaked, you'll feel much different. Besides, you're being awfully macho for someone who's about to be pissed on by a woman!" Indeed, Dara's bladder was tightening. "Here it..." Suddenly, everything went wrong. George's right hand, free of its bonds, grabbed Dara's ankle and twisted, sending her tumbling to the side. She landed on her left knee and opposite shoulder, screeched in pain, and shouted to Marcy. George didn't relinquish his grasp, intent on causing Dara pain. That was a big mistake; since he didn't immediately release the other bonds with his free hand, Marcy was on it in a second. With his forearm between her legs, she sat, forcing George's arm to the ground and breaking his grip. George felt Marcy's moistness around his arm; she was obviously aroused. He ignored this and strived to keep struggling, fighting... This time, Dara took no chances. She crawled on top of George, this time facing away, and backed her tail directly into George's face. A good wiggle buried his mouth and nose in her twat. Marcy had no problem refastening George's wrist. Dara quickly cleared the anger and frustration from her face, and the blank stare returned. She was again focusing on her attention on her bladder. George felt the muscles around Dara's pussy move against him, tighten, and then release. He knew what was happening. He needed to distract her again, but he was himself distracted. The short hesitation was all that was needed for Dara's sphincter to relax. "It's coming!", he heard her say. A relieved smile appeared on Dara's face as her urine made the short trip from her bladder to her urethral opening. A muffled gurgling noise came from underneath her; although much of the hot, yellow pee was splashing out in both directions, soaking George's hair and forming a puddle around his head, it was also filling his mouth. Marcy took one tug on George's arm, just to test his bonds, and stood up just as Dara's growing puddle reached her heels. She walked around Dara to get a better view; the wicked grin on Dara's face led to a pert, coy smile on Marcy's. As soon as she felt him swallow, and a mouthful of her urine entered George's body, Dara tightened her PC muscle, stopping the flow. She stood, still straddling George, and shook her hips several times. Drops of pee which were clinging to Dara's pubic hair, sparkling in the light, relinquished their attraction to Dara's body and fell to George's chest. Dara turned and looked behind her, examining her work, and gave George a huge grin and satisfied laugh. "That'll teach you not to resist," she told him. "Your turn, Marcy. Let's finish him off." >From his shoulders upwards, George was drenched. Dara's urine was in his mouth, eyes, nose, ears, and hair; and of course he couldn't free himself from it. A vaguely feminine scent surrounded him, as the warm urine soaked into his flesh. Defeated, George lay there, limp and expressionless, no longer struggling, no longer defiant. Proteins in the urine were already starting their work, activating a long-dormant biological program within his body. Some of his spirit returned quickly enough, however, as Marcy straddled him. She calmed him quickly, in a friendly tone. "George, George, it's alright. It's all going to be alright. We're going to take very good care of you. We're not going to hurt you. Just relax." "Relax? How can I..." George trailed off. Something didn't feel right. "I'll get..." He seemed unable to complete his thoughts. "George, it WILL be okay. Please. Just let me finish," Marcy pleaded, as if there was anything George could do to stop her. George summoned his resolve one more time. "Listen, when I get out of here, I'm going to..." "Listen, George," Marcy commanded. "Don't try to tell us that we've had you pegged wrong all this time. Sure, we'd expect some resistance. But you're going to need our help. You better stop fighting. Dara's pee is already working on you, and in a few seconds, my pussy is going to soak the rest of your..." "No! You can't do it! I'll.." "Oh, George, you can't stop me now, can you? You couldn't stop Dara from drenching you..." Marcy stepped up, now over George's chest, and dragged a toe through Dara's puddle and snickered. "That's obvious to all of us. And now it's my turn." George was squirming. "Look, I give up. End this game now. Can we make some kind of deal?" "Sure. Just relax and when I'm done going to the bathroom on you, I'll..." George attempted his steeliest expression and voice. "You know what I mean." "Umm, Marcy, why don't you just..." Dara said. Still looking at George, Marcy answered. "Because I like torturing him, that's why. I think he even likes it. He even has a hard-on." Turning her gaze to George's face, "Maybe the last one he'll ever have." Dara giggled. "Look, you..." George insisted. "Look, Marcy, he's still arguing, but he can't take his eyes off my twat! He knows I'm getting ready to piss on him. He just doesn't know when it's going to come..." She was right; George was fixated on Marcy's pussy. Marcy was straddling him, her legs parted. A soft, warm, gentle, yet powerful organ was nestled between those smooth legs, its lips now quietly parting; waiting for its owner's command. Marcy intentionally tormented him now. "...splashing across his helpless body. Helpless as my pussy soaks him from head to toe. Defeated by a woman at last." George squirmed at the thought. "Wow," Dara commented. "This is great. You're really good." "Thanks, Dara. Watch how I can aim it anywhere I want. What should I target first?" "His cock," Dara answered immediately. "Definitely. Make it sting." George protested, using all his strength and still struggling against his restraints. The two women were now ignoring him. Marcy moved back a bit and took aim. "Like this?" "Looks good." George, still fixated on Marcy's pussy, managed a quarter-sentence. "Why you..." Marcy smiled at George, and her bladder tensed. She looked straight down, between her legs, at George's penis. Her labia parted. Finally, Marcy's urinary orifice, normally invisible, puckered slightly, and opened. Her sphincters relaxed, and the urine began to flow. A long yellow stream shot from between her legs and hit George squarely in the crotch, where the hot liquid seemed to sting him severely, if only from the thought of Dara's last suggestion. She continued to pee, and started to swivel her hips; causing her endless stream to dance across George's writhing body, defiling him as it left behind the liquid evidence of its trip. She soaked him thoroughly before stopping the flow. "Ahhh... that felt good. George, how do you feel?" Marcy inquired. George seemed to be very weak now. "I... It's just... What you've done..." "Okay, Dara, he can't fight any more. Untie him. Let's get him rolled over." The two women released George from his bonds and helped to roll him to his stomach. George, who was indeed quite weak, turned his head to the side. A foot appeared next to his head; he turned a bit to see it belonged to Dara, and Marcy had taken a similar position further down, straddling him about halfway down his body. The muscles in Dara's shapely leg tightened, and George knew that both women were squatting. He closed his eyes just as their urine hit his back, and fell unconscious a moment later. ==================== Evolution / 2 ==================== George awoke lying on his back on a waterbed. He still seemed quite warm and wet. Someone was in bed with him, talking to someone else. He stretched a bit, and heard someone walking around the bed and climbing in next to him. "Welcome back", Marcy said quietly, looking in George's eyes. She put one hand to his forehead, and looked across him to Dara. "I think it's over; his temperature is almost back to normal." George realized that this wetness was merely his own perspiration, thank goodness. Was this all just a dream? No, he was awake, in a bed between two naked women. The two who, in his dream, had... No, he thought, those incidents had really happened. "It's been two days," Dara told him, rolling over next to George such that one breast squeezed against him. "You've had a bit of a temperature." Marcy squeezed her naked body up to George as well. "Just your immune system overreacting a bit. Of course, your own body was trying to fight off the changes we're putting it through. All part of the plan. You'll be a bit washed out for the next few days, at least, but quite alright. We'll keep you here and watch over you." He suppressed his initial reaction, and quietly he asked: "This is a one-way trip, isn't it?" Marcy fielded the question. "We hope so. Do you have any idea what's happening to you?" "You're doing something to my body. Some experiment. What is it, some horrible virus or something? Do you two work for..." Marcy answered. "No, not a virus. Nothing horrible. You think we'd be lying here next to you if it were?" Marcy leaned over George and said to Dara, "I guess we can tell him part of it now." Marcy questioned George again. "So, do you have a guess as to what's going on?" "You said something about changing my body..." "Exactly. Into what, though?" "I don't know." George had a guess, but was too embarrassed to say it. Marcy nodded. "Okay. You're going to be a girl." George thought that this was the hint that Dara gave him when she lifted her stretch top, but he still couldn't believe it. Wide-eyed suddenly, all he could say is "What??" "Well, a woman like us, eventually, of course." "So there were some kind of hormones... when you two... the other day..." "When we peed on you? No, no hormones. We might be able to make a man grow breasts with enough hormones, but that doesn't make you a girl. No, it was a protein-- one that activated some genetic programming installed into your body long before you reached puberty. You'll be a complete, one-hundred-percent female." George was still stunned. "Female?" "Female. Breasts, vagina, ovaries. Every cell in your body will soon be that of a female. What you're feeling now should be the remnants of the 'shock waves', as your male cells are being replaced by female cells, or are being invaded and changed from within. That part's sort of like a virus, I suppose. Our pee only turned it on." George looked down at himself. He seemed normal outside, but did indeed feel strange inside, as if he were just recovering from a long bout with the flu. But there was a strangeness beyond this, as well. He couldn't describe it quite yet. "How come your... urine... has this ability?" "It was something we had to drink. Keyed to the injection that you had when you were little. We'll give you the complete story... later." Dara took over. "There will be things that are going to be confusing, or difficult. But you'll have a lot of support during the transition. It's quite an honor, actually; don't think of it as losing your manhood-- that's quite an overrated attribute, as I think you'll find. You have quite a bit to look forward to." George thought about this for a few minutes. "Assuming, for the moment, that what you've been telling me is true, that you've found some miracle way of turning men into women, what makes you think I want to be one? What if I demand that you stop this right now? And if I insist on keeping..." George reached down to make sure his male parts were still there. They were, which cast more doubts in his mind. "...this, what will you do about it?" Dara smiled at him, and her hand joined his on his genitals. "George, dear, I don't think you have a choice. We're feminizing you, and there's nothing you can do to stop the process." "But you can't get rid of..." "This?" Dara said, squeezing him. "We don't have to. By now, almost every cell in your body has two 'X' chromosomes, and a kind of growth cycle is beginning. It won't be long before your body figures out which parts belong and which don't. New parts will develop, old ones will be... absorbed and disposed of." Dara fingered his testicles, and gently pressed in on them. He felt two "pops" between his legs, and she took her hands away from him. "Voila", Dara said. "I'm sure that those will be one of the first things to go, so let's make it easier." George reached between his legs. Dara had pushed his testicles up inside his body, where they hadn't been since early childhood, leaving his scrotum empty. They wouldn't come back down. "What have you done?" he shouted at her. "Nothing your body wouldn't have done on it's own," said Dara. "And nothing you can stop." "Don't resist," Marcy said. "Don't resist the changes and new feelings. It's very important. Explore, but don't fight to stay the way you are. It will just make it more difficult." George sighed, and collapsed back down, staring at the ceiling. "I can't believe this." "You will in time. Meanwhile, we'll take care of you. Is there anything I can get you? Hungry? Thirsty?" "Both. And I have to go to the bathroom." "I'd imagine so! Dara, help him to the bathroom. I'll make us some breakfast." Marcy left through one door, while Dara helped George lumber into the bathroom. It was harder than he expected to get up; he felt very much washed out, and tired. Dara guided him to the toilet, where he sat, and then closed the door for him, waiting outside. Upon his return, Marcy was sitting at bedside with a platter of french toast, sausage, milk, and orange juice. "I'm sure that feels much better," Dara said. "By the way, you'll have to get used to sitting down from now on. That's what girls do." "I can stand if I want to!" complained George, who would have been too tired to stand anyway. Dara had to help him back to the bed. Dara giggled quietly to Marcy, whispering "Not for long!" George crawled back into bed, falling asleep within minutes after he finished eating. A week went by, with George spending most of his time asleep. The women fed him and took care of him, providing him with a TV during his few wakeful hours. He asked for a phone, to call his workplace, and for a moment actually suggested that he needed to get back to work. "That isn't necessary. It's alright. We've taken care of everything," Marcy told him, in a sweet voice. "You just rest. Your body needs time to rebuild itself.' George found it best to deny, even to himself, that anything unusual was happening. Only twice, when he was climbing back into bed after using the bathroom, did he look at himself-- and even then, just quickly. He didn't see any changes, but then he didn't really want to know. On the eighth day, however, George did have a small surprise as he got up. Hairs, tiny dark hairs, were all over the bedsheet. He discovered that he had lost most of the hair on his chest, abdomen, and arms overnight. As he brushed his hand down his chest, he did notice that he was definitely shedding. His strength seemed to be returning, as he seemed more rested, and this time he was determined to make it to the bathroom on his own, shaking off Marcy's offer of assistance. He did make it to the bathroom with no problems. This raised his confidence, and now he felt energetic enough to prove a point. Rather than closing the bathroom door, he left it open, figuring that if he had watched (or, actually, participated) when both Marcy and Dara peed on him, they could certainly watch him go. Rather than sit on the toilet, he raised the seat, then looked behind him to see if the women were watching. They were. Defiantly, he turned around and reached for his penis. It had been shrinking slowly during the week, and was now very difficult for him to hold onto. This bothered him, but he still attempted to deny it. He tried to aim, but there wasn't much to aim with. He urinated, the stream successfully reaching the toilet, and smiled, as if this was a major accomplishment. When he turned his head so that the women could see this defiant smile, his fingers slipped, and urine spattered the floor and ran down his legs. Both women ran over to him, and tried to soothe him as they cleaned him up. "It's okay," Marcy said. "This happens to all of us." She guided George back to bed. "I remember, when I was little, that I saw a boy pee standing up, and thought it was so neat... Anyway, if a boy could do it, then I had to be able to, so I tried it the next day. I made such a mess! Fortunately, my mother understood, and told me that it's a phase that all girls have to go through. Just like you're doing." "I doubt it's the same," grumbled George. Marcy propped herself up next to him, sensing an interesting discussion in the making. He didn't look back at her. Dara cleaned the bathroom floor. "No, I can't imagine it's quite the same-- since you've at least had the experience of peeing like a boy. I suppose having to change now would be bothersome." "I don't want to change," said George. His voice didn't sound quite right, as if he was struggling to maintain the pitch. "For heaven's sake, George, you're going to have to start accepting what's happening to you. If a minor thing like having to pee sitting down is something you can't take, I can't bear to think what you'll do when you get your first period." George's eyes widened, as he contemplated this. "Oh, Relax! That won't be for quite a while yet. By then you'll be ready for it. Most girls actually look forward to it; it's a sign of maturity, of course." Marcy put a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to face her, finally. "These little inconveniences are nothing compared to the wonderful things you'll be able to feel, and do." She took his hand, and placed it on her breast. "Imagine having these," she said. "Like Dara suggested." She rubbed his hand against her, and obviously the sensation started to get to her. "Imagine it. With you all the time. Imagine taking your first baby to your nipples, and feeling it draw it's life from you." George closed his eyes, as he followed her instructions. "Oh yes, babies. Imagine being able to create new life..." Marcy's hands moved to George's abdomen. "Right from here. The miraculous moment when you bring a new life into the world. It's hard to imagine how powerful that vagina is, George. Hidden away all the time, but it means so much to everyone. Even for life itself. We have quite a lot to show you, George." "But I like the way I am", said George, even though he himself no longer really believed it. Dara, who had been listening from the bathroom, spoke up. "Oh, George, get a grip. The way you are now is the worst of both worlds. You can't be feeling very good about the way you are right now, can you?" George hesitated before making a major admission to himself. "Okay, the way I *was*". Marcy was very sweet about it. "Of course you did, George. You're a good person with a healthy personality. It's good to be comfortable with the body you have. You liked being a man; there's nothing wrong with that. But it's over. You'll probably like being a woman even more..." "It is NOT over!" George said, kicking the covers off of himself. He half-sat up, to look at himself. Marcy and Dara knew this as a good sign; he was finally willing to face the truth. George peered between his legs. Marcy looked at Dara. "Could you bring in the mirror? The big one." Dara nodded, and left the room. Marcy sat and watch George inspect himself. His penis was nearly gone; it was now just a small bump, as if only the head of it was visible, low on his body. His scrotum, having been empty for some time now, had tightened against his body, and was blending in to the skin around it, which was beginning to become puffy. He looked up in despair at Marcy, who poked her fingers down there. "Looks like this is where your urethral opening stays; your clitoris, which is like most sensitive part of your penis, will probably be right about here." She turned to him. "And you can guess what this puffiness is for." "Oh my God..." sighed George. Still he was intrigued, as he continued to explore. Dara brought in a full-length mirror, which was on rollers. Marcy sat up. "Why don't you take a real look at yourself." George couldn't wait to do just that. In front of the mirror, he took a good look at his body. His torso and arms were hairless. His waist was narrowing, and this was giving greater definition-- and an almost-female look-- to his hips. He had lost a lot of weight. He hadn't shaved since his capture, and still didn't need it. There was no denying it now. He collapsed to the bed, crying. "I can't believe...." His voice was wrong. This was a female voice, a woman's voice, a girl's voice he was using. He tried to force a deeper sound: "I can't..." He cried again. Marcy held him tight; Dara asked if there was anything she could do. "It'll be alright," Marcy told both of them. "She just needs some time. In little while, we'll get dressed and go out; that'll be a good change of pace and will cheer things up. We'll be ready in another day or so." George, fortunately, didn't catch on that Marcy had referred to him with the female pronoun. It took over an hour for him to settle down; it was as the world was crashing around him, as if his life was coming to an end. It was, at least parts of it. A major portion of his life had already ended; but something new was just beginning. Later, they dressed to go out. George was given fairly gender-neutral clothing-- blue jeans and a T-shirt-- that weren't his, since his old clothes would hardly fit, but he had no complaints about it-- until he saw the panties they had ready for him. "No... No..." was all he could say, in an increasingly female voice, as they put them on him. He did nothing, however, to prevent it, as he was still stunned. Dara sensed his grief. "Relax. It's just underwear. I don't have men's underwear in your size. Besides, you don't have the parts for it anymore." It was true; the panties snugged tightly against his body, leaving no room for the now-nonexistent male genitalia. He'd never considered that before. The panties were pastel blue, soft cotton. He felt better when they were out of sight underneath the jeans-- jeans which, fortunately, had the more traditional front-zipper rather than the obviously feminine side-zippers that Dara had. Marcy whispered just to Dara. "We'll have to be careful for a while. She needs to be reminded that she's a girl once in a while, but we don't want to overwhelm her with it." George looked at himself in the mirror. Even these gender-neutral clothes couldn't quite hide his changing figure. His hair was thicker and longer, though still cut in a masculine style. He had on (thank goodness!) no makeup, and didn't have the bosom that Marcy and Dara each seemed so proud of. However, it appeared that he'd pass for a young woman much more easily than a male, he thought. This wouldn't be easy, and he wondered what the women had in store for him. They took him out of the bedroom for the first time. Outside was a simple hallway, at one end of which was an open door to the featureless room where he had been tied down, and where the two women had urinated on him, changing him forever. He noted that the floor mat and tie-downs had been removed. The room was obviously just some kind of storage closet, or extra room, and now he saw one window in it which he hadn't noticed when he was a captive there. There was a kitchen with a small table in it, a closet, and a small living room which was mostly empty. Obviously, these two didn't actually live here, George surmised. They probably rented it just for this event. The only door out was quite locked; the deadbolt had a key lock on both sides, and looked new. This was obviously intended to prevent his escape. But there was that window... No need for escape, though, if they were going to knowing TAKE him outside... "You mean we're going to go outside? And you're not going to handcuff me or something?" Marcy put her hands on her hips. "Hmm... Maybe just for fun...", she contemplated, then smiled. "I see you noticed our locks. That was only necessary in case you tried to escape before we... 'treated' you." 'Pissed all over me, you mean,' George thought to himself. "Now, things are a bit different, as you've noticed. I doubt, given your present state, that you could overpower either of us, but I'd hope you don't want to run. Even if you could escape-- even if we let you go, you can't escape the female body that's wrapping itself around you. Plus, what are you going to do? Nobody will recognize you anymore. How could you go back to your job? You need us; someone to help you learn about your new body. And there's quite a lot to learn. Plus we have a few more pleasant surprises for you." George wasn't excited by the thought of yet more surprises, but what Marcy said did make quite a bit of sense. They had taken him this far; now he needed them. In less than two weeks, these two women had become his whole world; the only ones who shared this terrible secret; the only ones that could help him out of his confused, "halfway" state. Dara picked up a small black pocketbook that had been hidden in the kitchen, and from this produced a key with which she unlocked the door. ==================== Evolution / 3 ==================== The apartment they had been in turned out to be inside a 10-story, fairly old building downtown, which placed them close to most of the places they'd visit that day. Stepping outside was refreshing, particularly to George, who hadn't seen real daylight since Marcy closed the van door behind him at the beginning of this adventure. The day was cool, but not so cold that jackets were needed. "It would be best," Marcy said, "to save questions and such until we get back. Certain things might be hard to explain to others. We'll cover for you in the meantime." George nodded, and the three of them went out to a restaurant for lunch. This was uneventful; by the end of the meal, George was actually in good spirits, and the weight of his current situation no longer seemed such a burden. He was becoming amazed at the two women he was with; they were more knowledgeable, more cultured, and more understanding than he had previously thought. Dara, with her slim body and beautiful features, seemed fascinating, and at times ethereal. This hadn't spoiled her a bit; she was up-front, honest, and very open about herself. Marcy, who held a different, yet equally strong kind of appeal, was very down-to-earth, the kind of person one would want as a best friend. Both had Master's degrees; Dara in business, which she conceded hadn't been of much use to her, and Marcy's in psychology, which made sense. George felt very fortunate; the time that they had invested in him, and the things they were sharing with him were nothing that he'd ever really had before. The closest he'd ever been to anyone was with Karen, who he still considered his best friend, though at times she seemed to have this inexplicable desire to keep her distance from him. But, either of Marcy and Dara were the kind of people, that, if he had been a man... George tried to cut off that thought abruptly, feeling that the conclusion would undoubtedly depress him. He couldn't suppress the irony, but managed to get back into conversation quickly. At this he even impressed himself. He had always prized himself for his adaptability; this time would be no different. The second stop proved a little more stressful. This was a unisex hair salon, where George soon discovered that he was intended to be the customer. Dara talked to him as they approached. "Let's get you a little style... Your hair is still a little too short for the style I think you'd look perfect in, but we positively have to do something with it." George didn't protest. It didn't sound like they planned on a purely girlish haircut, and one of the things he had planned to do the weekend of his capture was a haircut. "Our friend here needs a haircut...", Dara told the person at the front desk. "Dara! Marcy! Always such a pleasure..." the woman replied, then turned to her book. "What's the name?" A second passed before George realized they were talking to him. He startled. Could he still pass for... "Come on, Susan," Marcy said. George startled again, when the person behind the desk seemed suddenly satisfied, and he realized that Marcy was referring to him, not the woman behind the desk. He looked up; sure enough, her name tag read "Jane", and she had scribbled "Susan" down in the book. "I think we can take you right now." "Susan" didn't have her mind on the styling job at all. Dara made suggestions, Susan nodded back, meanwhile wondering... What gave Marcy the right to suddenly choose a name? What name would "George" have picked? Shampooing finished, Susan was moved to a chair, and the cutting began. Suddenly something new was bothering her. Karen, quite a while ago, had suddenly pestered George about what his "favorite girl's name" was. She remembered the conversation clearly-- it seemed like a strange thing to ask out of the blue, but Karen was fairly insistent, and when asked why she was so interested, said "Just curious, that's all." George had pondered whether it was a good idea to imply that "Karen", in fact, wasn't his number-one choice, name-wise, but decided that honesty was best. The name he had chosen, of course, was "Susan." Clipping done, the stylist had moved to small touch-up snips interspersed with blow-drying. "You have such pretty blue eyes," the stylist commented. Susan smiled politely. So, this meant-- or at least strongly suggested, that Karen was in on this somehow. How else could Marcy have known this "favorite name"? Perhaps just coincidence, but too many things seemed to fall into place-- raising more questions than he could even rationalize answers to. This kept Susan quiet through the remainder of the haircut. The stylist interrupted Susan's thoughts. "Well? What do you think?" Susan looked in the mirror. It was a "boyish" cut, but the kind of boyish cut that only women wore. "Nice job, Jennifer," Marcy offered. Susan nodded. "Quite!", she added, and attempted a smile out of politeness. The image in the mirror was attractive, but she still couldn't believe that this was her. Dara paid and tipped the stylist, and the three of them left. "I need to make one stop at the drugstore," she said. So they all went inside, and Dara offered to run down and grab what she needed. "Sure... Get two. We'll wait here," Marcy said. She and Susan waited up front. Dara appeared in the checkout line with two boxes of tampons; Susan couldn't suppress the worried look. Marcy turned a bit and whispered to Susan. "Relax... They're for us. Mine will probably start tonight, and Dara and I always have it at the same time." This didn't calm Susan much. She remained quiet. They returned to the apartment, where Susan immediately sat on the bed in front of the mirror. "My god... I'm a girl!", she said to her reflection, with a very long look on her face. Marcy sat next to her. "Isn't it terrific?" Susan was distracted again, and stood up to the mirror, getting a close look at her face. "My eyes," she said. "The stylist said so, and I didn't even think about it. My eyes are blue!" "So?" Marcy queried. Dara, having put away her packages, stopped in to investigate. "They used to be brown, Marcy," she said. Susan nodded, still fixed in the mirror. "Oh. Right. I didn't really look," Marcy confessed. "Okay. You've explained, sort of, why I'm becoming female. But my eye color is different. Where did THIS come from?" "Well, Dara?" Marcy hinted. Marcy and Dara stood next to Susan in the mirror, and fluttered their eyelids. All six of the reflected irises were blue. "From you two? But how could your pee... How could..." "I take it, Susan, that one of your parents had blue eyes..." Dara asked. "Yes.. My mother." "Remember how I said that your Y chromosome was being replaced with an X?" "Uh-huh..." "The new genetic material came from us, with a few modifications thrown in. It's mostly Dara's characteristics that you're getting. Brown eyes are a dominant gene; you probably had one brown, and one blue. The brown got replaced, and the rebuilding process you've been going through allowed the recessive blue-eyes coding to express itself." Susan looked at Dara, at the woman who's characteristics she stood to inherit. She suddenly felt very fortunate again. "You're so beautiful..." Marcy interrupted. "Hey! Some characteristics are mine-- reproductive system, we think. And a few other things. A little less than half of your genes are still yours, of course, which means that we can't really predict exactly what will happen. Changing your sex will allow different traits to express than you've had before, though I'd have to say that your eye color came from one of us." "Amazing what a little pussy can do, isn't it, Dara?" Marcy asked. "Look at her... she's becoming part of us. I feel so proud." Dara nodded agreement. Susan took a step away. "Proud?? Sure, you might have done THIS to me, but how can you be..." "Careful," warned Dara. "I think we deserve a little credit, don't you? This is the first time in history that any woman, or pair of women, have been able to accomplish anything like this." Susan thought about this for a moment. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should show a little more respect for people who are making history." "Not just us," Marcy offered. "We couldn't be doing this without you, you know. Someday you'll be famous." "But why..." Marcy shushed Susan. "Later. We'll tell you everything very soon." Susan turned back to the mirror, looking at herself. She turned sideways to look at her profile, which was quite female except for the lack of breasts. She looked down at her crotch again. "Go ahead... Take 'em off. Let's see what's happening," Marcy suggested. Susan undressed, finding herself much less upset than before when she again saw the panties she had been wearing. She was almost excited as she lay back on the bed to remove them. She turned so that she could see herself in the mirror. Dara and Marcy leaned in to get a good look. The small bump that was once George's penis was now entirely gone, engulfed by the puffiness between Susan's legs. Even the urethral opening had vanished between the folds of skin that were forming; a clear, deep dividing cleft had formed through the middle of the puffy area. Susan pulled the skin apart a bit, to where her urethral opening was hiding. She saw a tiny slit recessed into the space the folds of skin, approximately where it had been before. As she held herself this way, however, the slit began to open further. Susan sat there, nearly in shock, as the folds of skin at the bottom of the cleft began to separate; the 1/8" slit that she had mistaken for her pee-hole lengthened to a half-inch, and she pulled open a bit more to find that her actual urethral opening had been hidden behind that 1/8" slit. As she stared, though, the slit continued to lengthen and open, in both directions, as she held it apart. Soon it was an inch long. Places that Susan had never seen before were being exposed to air for the first time. At about an inch-and-a-quarter, the the newly separated skin started to become red and painful, and Susan winced. There were no other openings visible. Dara grabbed Susan's arms and gently pulled her hands away. "Careful," she warned. "Those parts aren't very developed yet. Be gentle and patient." Susan pulled her knees together. "You're right. I'm a bit sore." She sat for a moment. "I can't believe it; what I saw was part of my own body. Did you two go through this?" "Not really," Marcy said. "Much of the genital development you're going through now happened while we were still in the womb. Your parts are developing without that extra protection, so no wonder they're sore. Your labia are separating, but it will take a few more hours." "Okay, okay. I have one question I have to ask. How come you two seem to know everything that's *going* to happen to me, if I'm the only one who's gone through it?" Marcy answered. "Simulations, of course. We've run biological simulations on you, through a computer. So we've already seen, approximately, what's supposed to happen and when. God, if we hadn't simulated this over and over, tuning the DNA each time, chances are that the changes would have killed you. Or turned you into a frog or something." "We went over the old simulation again last week so we'd know what you'd go through," Dara added. "But it's nothing like seeing the real thing!" "Simulations," Susan mused. "So that means you've seen... and know when..." "Well, you've been a bit ahead of schedule, probably because your old body was very healthy, and possibly because we gave you an excellent dose of... well..." "Egads..." Susan smiled. "You can't even say it?" "Okay! Okay! Pee. We had to get at least sixty percent of your skin surface coated with our urine to ensure a positive trigger. That's what we were told. But not only did we soak every square inch of you, but..." "I swallowed some as well," Susan offered. "Ummm... Yes. That just reduced the activation time, so, you're ahead of schedule by a little bit." "But you still know when..." Susan asked. Marcy nodded. "Well, if my guesses are right, we'll be able to see the outside of your vagina tonight; and the inside by tomorrow morning. Your labia are separating now, whether you're pulling at them or not." "And that happened to you before you were born?" Susan asked the other two. Marcy answered. "Yes, sort of. You see, Susan, at some stage we're ALL female, sort of." Marcy sat on the bed, facing Susan, and spread her legs. "When you were still in the womb, about maybe eight weeks old, your 'female' parts were fairly developed. You had labia, but no penis, and a urogenital opening, sort of like you have right now. A week or so later, your male programming kicked in and began to differentiate you. Your genital slit-- the opening that would have become your pussy-- began to close and seal up. Your labia closed over it and became your scrotum. What would have been your clitoris extended outwards with the sealed urethral passage, and became your penis. And then you were male. And ordinarily would have been, forever. "Now, of course, you're getting a second chance. What you're going through isn't quite the reverse of the above-- first, because you're 24 years old, not 8 weeks, and second, because you don't have the protection of a womb around you. But your testicles are gone, your penis has disappeared back where it came from, and your labia are visible; and the opening between them is reappearing. I must say it's quite a privilege to watch!" Susan, meanwhile, had pulled off her top, and was looking down at her chest, which was still, for the most part, featureless. "What about..." "Your tits? We didn't simulate that completely." That surprised Susan. "There was no need to. All we had to know was that your body would survive, and ultimately fit the female genetic model that we planned. We know your ovaries are developing-- and will be producing female hormones soon. That's what kicks off your secondary sex characteristics-- like your breasts, widens your hips, and will give you pubic hair. As long as your ovaries are working, you'll get your bosom... even though we may not know exactly when." Susan looked at Dara again. Being Marcy and Dara's daughter, at least partially, she wondered how much like them she'd look. George, long ago in school, had peeked at the part of the sex education curriculum reserved only for girls, when one of the girls failed to sign off from one of the library-access terminals. Some conservative parents had demanded the "gender-specific access" feature in return for allowing enhanced sex education at all. He just wanted to know what a girl's body looked like-- under those clothes-- but in the process of finding his way to the pictures, became fascinated with the development process that the material described. It seemed that girls went through so many changes, and had so many special events throughout their lives, compared to boys. He had never thought about these things before. The program discussed emotional issues, puberty, and adolescence in much more detail than the corresponding program for boys did. The boys' version of this program had the same female author, but only covered the physical aspects of sexual development, in a dry, factual tone usually reserved for news reports, as if the authors were themselves embarrassed. This version, though, was like an experienced best friend explaining not only the physical changes, but emotional issues, and seemed much more complete. The text he read referred to the reader in the second person: "When your first menstrual period begins...", but the "you" the author referred to was not him. It made the adventure seem all the more illicit. He forgot all about the pictures for the moment; back at the program's table of contents, he noticed the titles of the next three sections: "Your sexuality-- your choices", "Fertilization and pregnancy", and "Childbirth". He was getting aroused just knowing it was there. The titles were all he ever saw, however, because at this point the librarian walked up behind him, curious as to what might be so interesting as to keep a young boy in the library well after school hours. Although he signed off immediately, though not without some regret-- it was too late. The librarian picked him up by the ear. "It's not nice to use other people's accounts," she told him. George had pleaded and apologized, and, strangely, the librarian let him go without further punishment. George stopped just outside the library door, and listened carefully as the librarian talked to her assistant. "Strange, they usually try to look at the pictures," the librarian had said. "Not that I blame them... it seems so unfair. Well, what can you do..." Susan related this story to Marcy and Dara, who sympathized with him. "I'm glad they did away with that gender-specific stuff years ago," Marcy said. "It's so stupid to keep the sexes-- separate like that." Dara looked away, as if Marcy was touching on something sensitive, then looked quickly back. Susan interrupted a yawn, and asked Dara if something was wrong. "No... Nothing. Never mind. I hope you did go back, once you were old enough, and read up about us. Everyone should know about both sexes. And for you... it's particularly important." Susan yawned again, and settled down for a nap. "I think so..." Moments later, she nodded off to sleep. Marcy gave Susan a kiss on the cheeks; Dara kissed her on the lips. "Happy dreams". ==================== Evolution / 4 ==================== Susan awoke from her nap at about 8 p.m. Dara had brought some soup and crackers, which they ate, and had only light conversation. Before going back to sleep, Susan needed to empty her bladder. It would be the first time with her new parts. She left the door open, and sat down. Marcy and Dara were watching again, and smiled approvingly. Susan reached down between her legs, and realized once again that there was no penis to aim. George would have had to hold his penis down to prevent squirting the bathroom floor. A momentary look of confusion crossed Susan's face. She had never done this before and didn't quite know how she was supposed to avoid making a mess. She looked up at the other women. "I just..." "Just pee", Dara told her. "You're fine. Just relax. It'll come. You have no penis, but otherwise it should be the same. You want some privacy?" Susan tried to imagine herself as a man again, sitting down, and starting to... The noise in the toilet told Marcy and Dara that everything was alright. Susan didn't expect it to start so soon, and it didn't feel normal. Urine was coming straight down out of her pelvis, in a noisy stream right into the center of the toilet, unencumbered by any penis or now-unneccesary length of plumbing. Her entire urethra was now just an inch or two long, and the sensation of urine flowing through a penis... Strange, she thought, as she continued to empty herself. She was finding it difficult to imagine, or even remember, what it felt like before, having not the parts to project that imagination onto. She looked up at Dara and Marcy again, who were now simply waiting for her; a moment later her bladder was empty, and her stream came to an end. She tensed her PC muscle to eject those last few squirts, but nothing happened. Not a drop. She tried again-- it seemed less automatic than before, but still nothing. Then she remembered that the extra plumbing, where those last squirts accumulated, was gone. Empty meant empty. Marcy looked up. "Wipe gently," she called. Susan did so. It seemed strange to have the space between her legs to reach her hand through. Susan got up, and climbed back into bed. "Let's take a look at you now," Marcy suggested. Susan lay back, drew up her knees, and spread her legs. The puffiness seemed to be receding a bit-- it seemed more specialized now. Her genital slit was visible; and it was wet inside from her urine. She spread her skin apart, and the slit started to open again. In the mirror she could see her urinary opening; and now the inch-and-a-quarter opening was painless; it had developed well past that point. The opening continued to lengthen, mostly downwards; an inch and a half... an inch and three quarters... and at two inches reached the limit of her development again. Susan didn't hurt herself again. Marcy put her head between Susan's legs. "Yes! Look! There it is!" Marcy got out of the way; all three took a good look. It was a vaginal opening, still partially covered by the still-developing labia. The entrance to the vagina was still closed, but Susan could see where it was becoming deeper. She tried to feel it inside of her, and successfully, though weakly, contracted her vaginal barrel for the first time. "And look up here..." Still mostly covered by the unopened skin, buried quite well, was the last vestige of George's penis-- Susan's clitoris. "Okay... That's enough," Marcy said, and Susan closed her legs again. "You know what's neat about this?" she queried, standing up. The other two shook their heads. Susan stood in front of the mirror. "You'd never know it's there," she said. Indeed, standing up, her private parts vanished entirely between her legs. She was still hairless in her pubic region, but no part of her genitals were visible this way. "Scary..." she said. "Neat, but still scary. It'll take getting used to." "Do you miss your penis?" Marcy asked. "I don't know... Actually, I guess not. This seems so much-- neater, more-- evolved." Marcy continued. "I thought you'd see it our way. Although, if we hadn't been in such a hurry, it might have been fun to have it inside of us... at least once. You'll have to tell us what it was like to make love to Karen, before you forget those experiences entirely." "Sure, I'd be happy to..." Susan cut herself off. Dara was scowling at Marcy. "Look, you two," she continued. "I already knew Karen was involved. Or at least had a good idea. My own name tells me that." "You're quite right. We don't mean to keep anything from you, Susan, and won't have to for much longer. We'll answer all your questions very soon." They slept spooned together that night, with Susan and her developing parts in the middle. In the morning, Susan was treated to several new experiences, which she seemed to take quite well. Dara plucked her eyebrows, showered with her, and shaved her own legs while in the shower. "I take it I'll need to do that someday?" Susan asked, her own legs being quite hairless now. "I do, but you won't. We turned that off in your new programming, just to save you the effort. There was no merit in hairy legs that you just would have to shave all the time; it's a primitive leftover that we got rid of quite easily. Same for your armpits." "Oh. Any other 'programming' I should be aware of?" Susan asked. "Nothing else like that; we'll tell you everything... later." Dara had finished with her legs. Susan was impatient. "When's 'later'?" Dara turned to face Susan. "Today, actually. We have some people to introduce you to." "I didn't think you two were alone in this. Not that you might not be capable, but..." Dara put her hands on Susan's soapy hips and pulled her close. "You're a smart girl, Susan. You'll be an amazing woman in no time at all! "You're already amazing, Dara... You're so beautiful..." Susan ran her fingertips across Dara's face, and tentatively down her neck, and between her still-soapy breasts. Dara smiled, and slid her hands up Susan's sides. "Oh, Susan, I feel so proud of you; envious, almost. There's so much in store for us all..." "I get the feeling I shouldn't ask what you meant by that." "Yes, but..." Both of them spoke together. "Later." They got out of the shower and dried off. Both naked, Susan followed Dara into the small walk-in closet, where several outfits were hanging. Dara unclasped a pair of interesting jeans-- some kind of blue stretchy material in front, black denim in back, a white blouse, and picked up a bra and two pairs of panties. Susan followed back to the bed, where Dara began to dress. Panties in place, she sat on the bed and pulled on the jeans, which seemed to stretch as they went over her. She stood up, and the jeans seemed even more tantalizing than the black ones she was wearing when they first met. It revealed her shape, and glistened in the light. She turned around, and picked up the bra, and started to put it on. Marcy stepped into the room, wearing just a robe. "That might be a little much for today," she said. "Hmmm... But it's a big day!" Dara protested. "True, but we don't have the truck-- and shouldn't draw attention to ourselves. Not that you're ever able to wear anything that tones down that body, Dara, but with that outfit, you'll have every man's eyes riveted to you even more than you usually do." Marcy was right. "Wow..." was all Susan could say. She never before considered that such things. Dara could easily draw attention to herself and liked to do it; but her clothes were carefully chosen for the effect. Dara knew exactly what she did to people when she wore a particular thing. "Bring 'em with you; you can change there if you want," Marcy offered. "Nah, no point. I have more clothes there than I do here." Dara turned to Susan, who was still awestruck. "It's not that difficult, you know. I've had this body for years and it doesn't take long to learn how to get people's attention. Gosh, if we do end up with the same measurements-- and it looks like that's happening-- we'll be able to trade outfits!" Dara ran her hands down her hips, over her favorite pants. "I'll just have to have you try these on. Then we'll take a walk through the park and see how many men try to pick you up." Susan grinned from ear to ear. "Marcy and I actually fit into some of the same things, but her hips are a bit wider, and my legs are longer. These are more likely to fit you eventually." Dara unzipped them and removed them, replacing her outfit with something a little less attention-grabbing. Susan put on the other pair of panties, which fit quite well, and the same pair of jeans as the day before, which no longer fit quite right. They seemed just a bit too short, too loose around the waist, though tight at the hips. Marcy put a belt around Susan's jeans. "Sorry about this," she said. "It's like a growing child-- no use getting you lots of clothes until you stop changing." "How long will it take?" "About a year. Changes in your bone structure take the longest. But you should be reasonably stable in a few weeks." Marcy buckled the belt for Susan. It went on the 'wrong' way, until Susan remembered that belts, buttons, and such were indeed placed differently than they were for men. Another symbol of femininity, it seemed. "Dara! Look at this!" Marcy suddenly shouted. "What? What?" Dara asked, walking over in her plain blue jeans. Marcy pointed to Susan's chest. "Oooh!" Dara said. "I hadn't even noticed." Susan, excited, tried to look down but still couldn't see anything particularly interesting. "What? What is it?" They turned her to the mirror. "Look at your areaola... See how it's darker?" Susan nodded. Marcy pressed around the nipple. "See how this seems a little puffy?" "And tender," Susan added. She knew very well what was happening, but not all of the implications. "Looks like you gots a pair o' workin' ovaries, girl!" Marcy said. "Them there's your breast buds!" "Alright, Susan!" shouted Dara. Susan just smiled. She imagined, and tried her best to feel, the female hormones that were now indeed starting to surge through her bloodstream. "I think that's fairly conclusive," Marcy said. "You're already starting to become a woman. I have no doubt you'll pass our test..." "What test?" "You'll see. Let's go." 340 Industrial Street was near the far end of, as one might guess, the industrial sector of this spread-out town. The building was a typical, nondescript mixed-use structure near the end of a winding road lined with parked trucks and vans. The entrance was empty, and a security camera guarded the entrance, a typical sight in this area. Marcy took Dara's arm and led her in silence through the both "airlock" doors. Dara followed. This led to a tiny lobby, almost entirely consumed by a standard security desk. A female security guard looked briefly up at the sound of the opening door, and turned back to one of the inevitable video monitors. Marcy escorted Susan through a side door into what should have been a closet. However, the floor of the closet had been cleared to reveal a trap door, which was open. Under this, the "closet" contained a stairway; at the bottom was a heavy steel door which was opening, anticipating their arrival. It was Karen who was inside; she didn't say a word, and closed and locked the door. Marcy, also, said nothing. In the room was a strange woman wearing a lab coat; this area was essentially featureless except for another similar door, and an old doctor's examining table which didn't seem to belong here. The walls were brick; the area was dimly lit from overhead. "Okay, Susan. We need to give you just a simple examination just to make sure everything's okay. It will be alright, I'll stay right here with you. The doctor will need you to remove your pants, if you would." Susan looked up at Karen quizzically, and she led her in the direction of the table. The doctor's voice was unexpectedly calm for the circumstances, but she was still very terse, as if this matter was of extreme importance. "Undress-- and then on here, please." Susan, by this point, had already rationalized that these people knew much more about what was going on than she did, and that compliance was her best bet. She was still ashamed of her form and undressed hesitatingly. Karen released her hand and helped her off with his jeans, and up onto the table. Susan looked around the room with sudden curiosity. "These too, of course. Sorry," the doctor implored, pointing to the panties. Susan really hesitated, looking back at Marcy. Marcy answered first, however, and was just as gentle as Karen had been. "It's okay, Susan. Really. Just for a minute or so." Susan lifted up her bottom and removed the panties, getting a quick peek at herself. "Lie back, please, and put your feet up," said the doctor. Susan lay down on the paper-covered table as the doctor extended a pair of stirrups from the end of the table. Karen and Marcy, knowing she had never done this before, gently eased her heels into place. The doctor snapped on a headlamp and kneeled down between Susan's legs, touching her with her gloved fingers and examining with a pair of magnifying glasses. She probed the depression between her legs. "Good initial labial formation, similar to a young child. Urethral opening seems normal." Fingers probed higher, and Susan felt a sudden, both painful and erotic, tingle. She tensed her legs. "Sorry about that," the doctor said in her still quite matter-of-fact tone. "A nice healthy clitoris so far, it seems." The fingers slid down, just past the urethral opening, and pressed against her with unexpected firmness, pressing into her body in a place that previously wouldn't have yielded that way. "Significant invagination already. That's very good. I wasn't sure how much to expect." Next, several fingers pressed flat against her pubic area. "Mmmm, good development of the PC muscles. You'll have no problem with _this_ body, it seems." "Invagination?" Susan asked of Marcy, immersing herself shallowly in the technicalities. "The formation and extension of a depression or intrusion into the body. Appearance of a cavity within some organ or part. As in the word 'vagina'." Susan's eyes opened wide. "You mean..." "Yes, Susan, you have one." The doctor had moved during this distraction to Susan's head and held a small wire loop. "Open wide for a minute." Susan opened her mouth, and the doctor scraped the loop against the inside of her cheek. "Thank you. You can get dressed if you like." The wire loop along with cell scrapings was being shaken inside a small vial filled with a clear liquid, and was removed. The doctor capped the vial and shook it. Marcy and Karen came up and took a closer look. Susan postponed dressing to watch as well. This was all very important too, it seemed. "Which way..." Karen asked. "How long?...." Marcy blurted, almost simultaneously. "About 90 seconds, hopefully. And, corny as it might be, it's either pink or blue. We're hoping for pink." "You mean this is a..." George asked, as if he was suddenly awakened. "Your sex test," the doctor answered. "Genetic, just like they'd use on Olympic athletes." "Blue means..." Susan asked, suddenly seeming very worried. "Blue for boys, of course. Failure. We return you to your apartment, you get most of your masculine parts back eventually, and we start over from scratch." Silence. The vial swirled, as an eternity seemed to tick by. A depressing thought, it seemed. Susan didn't want this effort to be wasted, whatever it was, whatever the effects on him. "Over ten years" of effort had all come down to this. She'd be a girl if that's what they wanted, he told himself. She didn't want to go back; didn't want to disappoint them. She was ready to be female... She had given up the last traces of masculinity at last, willingly now, and just hoped it wasn't too late-- and wasn't all for nothing. The liquid in the vial darkened. It was pink. Karen, Dara, and Marcy screamed. "Yes!! It's true!" They hugged each other, and Susan. Karen broke away first and ran to an intercom box next to the other huge door. "We did it!" The doctor spoke up, to be heard over the intercom. "Congratulations. You have a healthy girl!" ==================== Evolution / 5 ==================== Susan's mouth dropped open. The inner door swung out, and behind could be seen a huge, brightly-lit, tile-floored roomful of cheering women, in different outfits, some holding clipboards, some in lab coats-- standing in place and applauding, cheering. Karen quietly turned to Susan. "You really earned this, Susan. I'm so proud of you!" Susan smiled. "Oops," Karen added, realizing that Susan was still mostly naked. Thinking quickly, she pulled a paper smock from a drawer in the examining table and swooped it over her. Susan was whisked away by Karen, Marcy, and Dara, through the huge office/lab-full of applauding women, eager to get a good glimpse of her. She was led down a sloping hallway, and through several doors to a plush carpeted room that looked much like a hotel room. A woman that Karen obviously recognized waved hello. "Call Andrea at George's old workplace," Karen shouted. "Tell her the good news!" "We don't have long," Karen told Marcy and Dara. "You three can't keep your public waiting." She pulled open the closet door, revealing a reasonable selection of women's clothes, and quickly selected a modest skirt and blouse. A drawer held panties and other underwear that Susan couldn't quite see. This was all happening much too fast for Susan. They took several minutes to clean Susan up and to dress her, in these feminine clothes, and just as they were combing her hair, there was a knock on the door. A woman in a business suit opened the door. "I think we have everything together. Ready?" "Yes", answered Karen, Marcy, and Dara in unison. They left and headed down the hallway, and down a flight of stairs. Karen left them and went through another doorway. Marcy and Dara led George through the door in front of them, into a large room, which Susan instantly recognized as a... stage. A woman on stage held a microphone, and several people stood nearby. "We've waited a long time for this," the emcee told the audience, then turned to the three women. "Marcy, Dara, will you please come out here and introduce us to..." Susan found herself being escorted to center stage. Halfway there, she looked at last into the audience. There were several hundred women there, in an auditorium one never would have suspected to find two stories underneath a mixed-use building on Industrial Avenue. This place was obviously a great secret intentionally, yet there were thousands of people in on it. Of course-- they were all female. Not a single man in the world knew about this place, Susan quickly realized. That's why she wasn't permitted to learn of it-- all the secrecy-- until now. This place must have been built years ago. The stage was used for all sorts of group presentations, the room for huge meetings involving hundreds of different women all involved in this huge project. Yet she had no reason to suspect any kind of government involvement, covert planning-- the place was organized, but not bureaucratic. She suddenly had more questions than answers. The applause grew to a roar as the audience got it's first complete view of Susan's new body; various people were throwing confetti in the air, staring with their mouths open, or hugging the woman next to them. Susan felt the familiar feeling of shock return just as the emcee finally quieted the audience. The emcee was the nicely-dressed woman who had knocked at the door, obviously a leader of some sort. She turned first to Marcy and Dara. "Marcy, Dara, please take a step up here. This project has been underway, as you well know, for over eleven years now. You two have given us our future; you have given us that which we have worked so hard for all this time. You two had among the riskiest job here; the responsibility of knowing that our entire future was in your hands-- the risk of exposure, and the risk of the unknown." "Before we delay further, we have a formality that is much more than just a formality. We acknowledge here the beginning of a new life; for us, for all women, and for our entire species. For that, this person has sacrificed much-- in the dark of misunderstanding, lack of information, and the loss of her previous gender. Dr. Carlson, could you please step up here?" Dr. Jeanette Carlson was the woman who first examined George's new body. Looking at Susan, she read from the papers in her hand. "Marcy, Dara, thank you for bringing this to us. Thanks to all of you, the women who have put in many long hours and years of our life, without whom we would not have this moment." The emcee turned to Susan. "And, as we can't very well go calling the seedling of our future 'George', we have..." The audience chuckled. The doctor turned the page. "I have examined our subject with the accepted techniques and found her to be possess the abilities and faculties held solely by a female of our species. She is the first of our new race; the next step in human evolution; the answer to many of our present and future problems. These present you with your new official credentials I speak for my friends and coworkers, and I'm sure all other women, when I say that we welcome you to our world with open arms. By now I'm sure you can feel that we're all your friends; we will be so for all time. Thank you for giving us yourself, Susan." The doctor handed her a set of documentation-- driver's license, birth certificate, and several other items. It looked real; "Susan" it was. The picture was hers. The birth certificate carried two shocks-- although the month and date was correct, the year of her birth was five years too late; possibly just a transcription error. Susan's eyes flashed open wide when she looked at the right column on the certificate; "Sex: Female". The audience rose to its feet and commenced a standing ovation; for those on stage and for themselves. After many minutes, she was led to a chair near the side of the stage, and other groups of women were brought up on stage to be recognized for their efforts. Many of them shook Susan's hand, offering her thanks and congratulations. Later that evening, Susan was sitting on the sofa in the room she had been in before; she learned that this was just one of the many residential rooms in the underground complex. In fact, most of the women here lived in such a room,. This particular room, was to become Susan's for the time being. Dr. Carlson, Karen, Dara, and Marcy, as well as the group leader and a few other women, had joined her for an informal debriefing and question-answering session. "Okay, I think everyone's here. I should tell you right up front that Marcy and Dara will have to be leaving tomorrow morning; so any questions for them should probably come first. You'll be staying with the rest of us for a while after that during your training. Have you already figured out why everything here was kept from you?" "Oh yes, of course," Susan answered. "You can't have any males discover this occurrence quite yet. If threatened, they'd try to destroy it." "Very good. You've caught on quickly to the nuances," Lisa noted. Susan responded. "I've always been observant, but... I seem to understand what's going on here better now that I don't feel threatened any longer. When I was outside of here watching to see how my test would come out, I suddenly felt myself wishing that the 'project' would succeed, even if it meant becoming a girl. All of a sudden I heard myself wishing that I was a girl. That's when I really became female... I finally relinquished everything else. It was like a great burden being dropped from my shoulders." "Interesting," Lisa nodded. "You have one thing that, at times, I wish we all could have-- the perspective of being on both sides. It just isn't worth the cost, that's all. Anyway, do you have any idea what this project really IS yet?" "No. At first I figured the goal was to turn me into a female. But then I realized that there's no way this many people would work so long just for that-- just to give ME the opportunity to be female." "Although, of course, if we could have you live for a while as a woman, and somehow go back, and relate your experiences to men somehow, it would all be worth it..." "I don't think I'd want to go back. You must have some idea what it's like." "Well," Lisa answered, "not from your perspective. But you give us the opportunity to ask a question that nobody has ever really been able to answer-- what was it like? What do you miss? How do you feel now?" Susan thought for a moment before answering. "Unfortunately, it's hard to explain. My entire body-- my sexual identity, my clothes, my appearance, even my voice... is different. When I first looked in the mirror and saw a female body developing around me, I didn't believe it. I kept telling myself that my 'normal' self would be back. Then the person I saw in the mirror was a stranger; someone who just couldn't be me, no matter how much I told myself otherwise." "But what did it feel like? What changes..." Dara asked. "I'll get to that. This is the only way I can think of to explain it. As time went on, and I realized that the person in the mirror was, in fact, me, I also realized that very little changed. Inside, I'm still myself. My life has changed... but I know I'll adapt." Lisa asked, "But what about... the physical changes? How does it feel to be female? To have female parts... between your legs, compared to before?" "Unless I actually think about it, it feels only slightly different. I don't feel the weight between my legs anymore. But it's easy not to pay attention to. You don't 'feel' your own vagina right now, until I mention it, do you?" Most of the other women looked up, muttering various incarnations of "No..." "That was true as a man, as well. The feeling of the changes I've been going through... is one of the most exciting things... but then, of course, that's because it's the most significant thing that's ever happened to me. Now it's like there's new opportunities, new capabilities, so much to explore. But the things that I always wondered about as a man-- like what it would feel like to have breasts, or what a woman felt when making love-- are still just as mysterious." The group was quiet for a moment. Finally, Dr. Carlson spoke up. "Oh, Susan... I think you'll have so much fun exploring them. There's many things we'll have to teach you about your body, even before your first period. And, although you'll have the figure of an adult in less than six months, you shouldn't become pregnant in the first 18 months." Susan had forgotten this. "Pregnant?" "Your bones, you see. Your soft tissue and cell structure could be converted quickly. Bones take longer to assume their new form. Your pelvic outlet-- the opening in your pelvis that your birth canal goes through-- isn't quite woman-sized yet. You couldn't pass a baby though that and would get yourself into trouble. No problem, though. It's easy to take care of for now and there will be plenty of time for childbearing later." Susan's thoughts distracted her. "Wow... I'd almost forgotten about that." She looked down at herself. "I'll be able to bear children?" Lisa took over again. "Of course. That's a part of being a woman, and is one of the most intense experiences. With you, however, there will be a few differences." One of the researchers in the room spoke up. "You see, Susan, that's part of our project. The evolution of our species effectively stopped once we were able to bear children successfully most of the time. It's the 'Peter Principle' of evolution-- once we were successful in reproduction, and defeated the mechanisms for 'survival of of the fittest', there was no need for further evolutionary changes. Now we've changed that. Your childbearing will be much better than our mothers had it. So will ours." Susan looked up with great questions on her face. Lisa's turn. "That's just part of this project, Susan. The reason you're so important is that you're the key. Your body carries the results of our efforts. New abilities. New powers. Your children will have them, and their children, and so on. And, maybe we were entirely selfish here, but you can give them to us." "Why don't you start from the beginning," Marcy suggested. "Good idea. Very well. We do have a library that has the entire history of the project, and you should read that like we all have; but I'll give you the summary. Fourteen years ago, a single woman-- the one whose picture is in our auditorium-- decided that she had had enough. She had worked as a counselor for raped, abused, or abandoned women all of her life, and suffered some pretty unbearable things herself-- much of what she counseled people about. Things seemed to go for bad to worse; she could pride herself on being able to rehabilitate those who had suffered, but felt powerless to stop any of it before it happened. One day, a woman who was undergoing counseling, and had become a good friend, literally ran into the office. She had narrowly escaped an assailant right on that very street, and was positive that she had narrowly avoided being raped-- again. The police, of course, were of no help. But something else was wrong... and finally the patient told her counsellor a horrifying, classified secret. The government was experimenting with some very nasty kinds of biological weapons-the intent, Mary found..." Susan interrupted "The genetic warfare scandal, of course. The intent was to wipe out entire races. I was just a tyke when that was going on. Someone had this insane idea that it would be a good idea if you could simply make all of your enemies sterile; and their populations would die off. I remember being very scared." "Of course, probably because your parents were. It was the closest yet that we had come to World War III and, essentially, the end of human life. At least, at that time. The two of them knew something had to be done; Mary knew that any real weapon was still years away, but the leaked the story to the press. The people panicked, as you know; the project was exposed and then cancelled, and the feds had Mary 'silenced'; but they never found her notes-- that, eventually, ended up in our hands-- a group that she herself had assembled, and has grown ever since. We knew that our entire species was headed for disaster. Overpopulation, poverty, more money spent on destruction than on education-- and everywhere we looked, men were behind it. Of course, not all men-- not even most-- are 'bad', but it became obvious that men were unwilling to be our partners; they fought at every turn; they were defensive of their fellow men, not of the species or society as a whole... I'll let you read the literature on your own. Years of quiet research and philosophical discussion followed. I'll get back to that in a moment. Anyway, two splinter groups formed. One was very vocal, and was filled with activists who denounced what happened and demanded immediate action. Politicians and community leaders were mostly men, and didn't help. The vocal group got quashed, silenced, sometimes members were threatened, some were even murdered. "This group here is all a result of the other women. Rather than raise our voices now, and demand the impossible, we decided to create the future rather than be trapped by it." The first researcher spoke up again. "The philosophers, sociologists, and historians presented the results of their work, and startled everyone when those results were in agreement. The conclusion was equally surprising: Most of our problems were being caused, in one way or another, _not_ by men, but simply by the sexual distinction present in our species." "Exactly," Lisa said. "We are too knowledgeable-- too advanced-- too intelligent to have this great split between the genders. It was tearing us apart. The men were always competitive, dominating, self-centered. Women reacted to that and became demanding, aggressive, but, ultimately, still fearful. Men created wars, wrote history the way they wanted it, even portrayed their own voice as the word of God, ignoring us when it suited them. It was threatening us all-- not just us, but the men themselves, ultimately." "So, after much debate, discussion, and thought, the goal became obvious. It was time to reunite our species." "Even biology supports," the researcher said, "that successful species tend to become single-sexed after a period of time. Unfortunately, medical science has essentially halted natural evolution of our species. So, we did it ourselves." Dara, long quiet, finally jumped in. The unity between these women was amazing, Susan thought. So impressive. "We realized, finally, that we've had the power between our own legs all along. Every human that forms in this world does so thanks to a woman's womb; most babies first reach the world through the vagina that we all carry-- including you, Susan, now. If we could only establish firm control over our own reproductive system, the very control that men have been trying to deny us, we could shape our own future. So women formed a small enough group to escape detection for all these years while we worked out the technology and the answers. We could make our own future. The real blessing came when we found that we would be able to affect not just the successive generations, but our very own." -- @>---`---< >---'---<@ @> Karen Mitchell <@ @> LabRat@pobox.com <@ @>---`---< >---'---<@ From srcc!news!srcc.msu.su!news-service Mon Mar 03 16:49:41 1997 Received: by fudn.msk.ru (UUPC/@ v6.14g, 06Jun95) with UUCP id AA02638; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 16:49:41 +0300 (MSK) Received: by gamma.srcc.msu.su; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 14:15:18 +0300 Received: (from root@localhost) by news.gamma.ru (8.7.6/8.7.3) id OAA23349 for firstname.lastname@example.org; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 14:13:49 +0300 (MSK) To: email@example.com From: firstname.lastname@example.org.SPAMBUSTERS (Karen Mitchell) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg Subject: [News] Story - Evolution 6-10 of 25 Date: Fri, 28 Feb 97 15:43:12 -0600 Organization: Onramp Access, Inc. 512-322-9200 Message-ID:
Reply-To: email@example.com (Karen Mitchell) NNTP-Posting-Host: onramp7-8.onr.com Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Ref: Gamma.RU alt.sex.stories.tg:8874 Sender: firstname.lastname@example.org X-Class: Big Precedence: junk Lines: 1798 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Length: 86459 Status: RO Don't forget to remove the .SPAMBUSTERS from my address before replying. I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. If this is offensive do not read - delete file. For those of us who enjoy .... enjoy! Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up with what I have now. Sorry about the forged header, but it does help keeping down on the junk mail. Karen Mitchell ==================== Evolution / 6 ==================== Susan seemed suddenly distressed. "You plan to eliminate all the men from the planet. Eventually. What are you going to do? How can you possibly justify--" Lisa, sensing the tension, jumped in. "Wait a minute. I'm sorry it's so hard to explain this all at once. First of all, the major secret is exactly this. By the end of the next generation there will be few, if any, male members of this species left." Susan was nearly angry. "You mean you're just going to kill them? You can't..." Lisa defended this quickly. "No, no, no. That wouldn't be ethical. You should know by now-- we're here to create and enhance life, not destroy it. Our philosophers and ethicists, as well as the other women in this group, worked out a great many things to an agreeable conclusion." Susan's face brightened. "You're right. All you have to do is to avoid having male children." Lisa breathed a sigh of relief. Susan had almost gotten away from her. But, she was a woman now, and was reaching the point of understanding quickly. "Correct. That's where you come in. You're the first woman that can only have female children. And your children, and their children, and so on." "That would take... forever, wouldn't it, if I'm the first? Besides, why did you start off with a male body instead of making what should have been very minor changes to someone who was already female?" "Okay, good. Good points. First, you're not technically the first. I'll explain. The reason we chose your original body for our starting point had several reasons that are quite involved-- partially just luck-- you were the first of hundreds of thousands of surveyed people that matched a pattern we needed to kick things off-- and, finally, there are a few traits we needed-- not sex-linked, fortunately, that we'd only found in certain male subjects-- like you. It was only a little extra work to get you into the body you deserve, and keep you alive during the process." Lisa continued. "You have always been you, whether your name was George, or Susan, or whatever you wanted. You've had a feminine spirit inside you since you were born. Only your body is different-- so now you can express that femininity." "How am I different than Marcy and Dara, then?" "Simple. Your powers are natural, not artificial. No laboratory to destroy, secrets to erase. Your children, as we said, will share these abilities. No shots, no examinations, no genetic sequencing needed." Susan understood. "Okay. How does this affect anybody except my own children, and what happens to all the men currently alive? Finally, what do you do to protect this? Once the first man figures out what's happening, the whole project is in jeopardy." "It's just that there's been so much background you've needed, Susan, that's all. First of all-- this new design for the female body can be spread to any other female-- including any or all of us-- directly. Since we're already female, the changes will be quick and invisible." "How?" Susan asked. "Same way Marcy and Dara did it." "You mean that if I pee on any of you..." "Exactly. You have that power by now, now that your ovaries are active. The programming is already carried inside you. In reality, most bodily fluids will do, in sufficient quantity, but it's hard to get quite enough of other fluids so spontaneously." "Yes," Dara spoke up. "Besides, we treated you to a nice warm shower; surely you can return the favor?" Marcy giggled. Lisa picked up again. "Okay. That's easy enough. It doesn't have any effect on women who've already been converted--" "Though they still might like it just for fun," Marcy quipped. Lisa cut her off. "Yes, yes, fine. It takes about twenty-four hours before a woman who's been exposed for the first time can do the same to others. Anyway, on to your second point. How to unify the species without waiting hundreds of generations. Well, we had several ideas. I'll have Sarah tell you about the options we've explored..." Sarah was the researcher, it turned out. "This was the part of the job that was really quite a bit of fun. Let me lay out all the possible scenarios for you. We've picked one for now, but might still expand our choices later. "Well, we could have made our bodies, or our urine, or our sexual fluids, or breast milk, or something else about us poisonous to males of our species. But that would make us killers. What about all the truly kind men out there? Or the few that actually are so in tune with us-- like you were all your life, Susan-- that they deserve the chance to be a part of this evolutionary change-- and might have actually deserve to be female? We had to come up with something else. "The next concept was almost more insidious. We use this generation's men to bear our children, freeing us to convert the entire population quickly. Any woman who conceived successfully would have, by our simulation results, from 2 to 4 weeks to make love to a man-- probably the same one that caused the pregnancy, though not necessarily. The stimulation of lovemaking would carry the fertilized ovum, in a special kind of capsule, to the neck of the uterus. Extra "equipment" in the vagina then takes over; the contractions of orgasm force the egg out with all of the uterus' force; and, essentially, it enters the man's body, impregnating him, though not in the usual sense. In essence, the woman gives birth into the man's body. As the child, who of course is female, grows, she starts to take over the functions of her host. She hears and feels everything that he does. The older she gets, the more control she gets, learning gradually to control his muscles. Finally, once she reaches puberty, she can express her true form at last, and sheds the masculine skin from her entirely female body. This too takes a long time, but is, from our point of view, "off-line". We can reproduce quickly and move on to the next victim. The problem was that the philosophers likened it to a mother who dies in childbirth-- although the some of the "spirit" might be continued, continued, we couldn't say without a doubt that we're not killing the host. Plus, it left us with this extra equipment in our bodies that would be useless after all the men were gone. So, the plan was scrapped. Back to the drawing board. "So, we thought of this. A two-part plan. First, for now, we needed defense against certain men. So we use a technology similar to that which Dara and Marcy used on you. We had one of these amazing discoveries during that research; the same fluids that grant these powers to a woman could be used to disable a man. We were amazed to see how easily it worked out; like we were destined to discover it. Outside a woman's body, the special properties of these fluids dissipate quickly, so it has to be delivered directly. We see that as an advantage as well, since it means that control over this 'weapon' should always remain exclusively ours." "So that's why Marcy and Dara had to pee on me, and couldn't just spray me with a hose or something," Susan determined. "But what exactly does it do? Turn them into a female?" Susan asked. "Doesn't sound like that would always be desirable. The woman across from you in the ladies' room might have been a rapist a week ago." "True," Sarah answered. "But we couldn't go that far even if we wanted to. When you were converted, it only worked because you had a specific genetic type that allowed it to work, and the fact that you were injected well before puberty. The protein that Marcy and Dara carried only was an activator, remember." "Okay, so..." "The most we could really design into any urine-carried substance was something that would initially 'disarm' a man, and enough contact would sterilize him. That served three purposes-- a rapid effect on the initial contact-- necessary for the woman's safety-- and deactivation of his masculine capabilities both weakened him a bit and prevented him from reproducing, even with a 'normal' female." "Then what?" Susan asked. "That doesn't seem to do what we're after. And what happens to a poor man who gets it accidentally, or just playfully? If it's not reversible, it seems like another ethical dilemma." "I like the way you say 'we', Susan," Lisa told her. "You've really come into the group. We made the right choice." Sarah continued. "Again, good points. More debate and discussion. Some 'good' men are going to get exposed to a woman's urine; what do we do about it? This almost tore us apart. Some of us have boyfriends, husbands-- and while we're being generous in saying that they are being 'deprived' of the right to 'have' children-- since their role in childbearing is so small-- we couldn't do it. We wanted them to be able to 'join' us, to come with us into the future somehow." "But you can't make them female, as you said." "Right. And wrong. Another team had worked out a different strategy that seemed too complicated, too troublesome, too difficult, and didn't seem to solve any problems; suddenly we realized that it solved them all. We _could_ invite our choice of men to come with us; to become one with us; either to become female, or become part of us. We just had to invent a new kind of reproduction. And we had forgotten about a very important gland that turned out to be the key." Susan waited anxiously, now very curious. "Again, the findings were shocking. The programming seemed to be so easy to turn on-- you'll just have to read the research notes as soon as you get the chance. Anyway, men love our breasts. They'll love yours too, once you have them. You'll lactate upon repeated mammary stimulation, and produce a milk just like pregnant women do now. But any adult, male *or* female, who tastes your milk in any substantial way, soon won't want anything else. The more they drink, the more your breasts swell; and the more milk they produce-- until their entire diet consists of just... you. It shuts down parts of the digestive system, so someone hooked on it can't eat anything else. So these 'meals' carry a special surprise. So, suppose you were playing with your boyfriend, or husband, and accidentally squirted him; or you had a good friend that, unfortunately, was maliciously sterilized by some other female. He can't reproduce, and you'd love to introduce him to our world and give him a chance to bear his *own* children. You invite him to suck on your nipples one evening. Soon he'd find his body shrinking, weakening, getting apparently younger, tinier, smaller. He ends up excreting most of his body weight within a few weeks. When the time came, your body would be ready for him. You'd hold him between your legs, bear down, push him into yourself, and then suck him in. Your birth canal would easily be large and powerful enough-- there are activating hormones into your lactation process which prepare you. We're projecting that this labor would take between 2 and 5 hours, after which your birth canal closes up, trapping his live body inside you. After your womb has had some time to absorb his body into you, but while he's still very much alive, your reproductive system would come to life; you'd ovulate, and a few hours later he'd find himself trapped in the uterus of a woman who was actively conceiving-- him. His "Y" chromosome is replaced with one of your "X" chromosomes. Soon the nutrient flow reverses, and you're now nourishing a baby girl, which is born in the normal way. We expect that stored energy from the original body will result in a comparatively short childhood. "Wow... that's heavy.", said Susan, her eyes wide. "Wait, there's more. If you decide not to conceive, which is your choice, your body will continue to absorb him until there's simply nothing left. You would reach unity with him inside. Physically, you'd have your period, and it would be over. "This gives women the same power to ease someone out of the world as it does to bring children in. To an extent, it also gives us the power to grant a kind of reincarnation. We're expecting that much of the memory and intelligence of a person is preserved through the process. We won't know the details until someone tries it. I don't know who will be the first to 'take' birth-- as Jeannette said, your pelvic structure won't be ready for it until about 18 months from now." "Fascinating", Susan remarked. "But how do we plan on reproducing once all the men are gone?" Lisa spoke up. "Marcy and Dara showed us that reproduction between two women was possible; although soon they won't need a team of scientists helping them do it. We needed some kind of cross-fertilization to keep the species homogeneous, and found that it was still quite possible. Children will be carried inside our bodies like we've always done." "But how... does one do all those things?" Susan asked. "Trust us, the mechanisms are there-- in your body alone, so far, to conceive a child along with another woman, once you're mature. Your eggs are compatible with the eggs of other women, and you'll have the mechanism to deliver your own eggs into someone else, or receive one..." "Who bears the child?" "That's your choice. Yours and your partner's, that is. It isn't easy to trigger, which is good because it'll save you the need for birth control. It has to be someone you've been around for a while, so your period is synchronized, and actual intercourse will take quite a while." Dr. Carlson spoke next. "You understand, if you've taken biology classes, the importance of sexual reproduction. That's unchanged. Children are the product of two people, either two adults who create a child from 'scratch', so to speak, or one woman who engulfs someone else's body. It maintains a good gene pool either way. "You've always had enough instinct to know how to have sex, right? Well, we worked on that too. The philosophers pointed that out-- if we had created a single-sexed species with all the instincts of our "ancestors", we'd end up miserable and with all sorts of problems. Lots of research went into this. Your instincts and feelings will show you the way. The same will happen with that friendly weapon you now have between your legs- - if you're ever frightened in that way, your instincts will lead you. So for now, just relax and enjoy." Lisa spoke up. "Well, folks, we should probably let these four get some rest..." "Can I get one more question in?" Susan blurted. "Sure, Susan. But we really should get to sleep soon. What is it?" "My identification... How did you do all this? And the year of my birth is five years too late. And what about all my other records? And people at work? And..." Lisa interrupted her. "Enough, enough. You'll have plenty of time for all the questions. As for your identification: Your picture was created by one of our artists, and was our best guess as to what you'd look like. We have a contact in the state records department that handled issuing the license and changing all of the appropriate records. By now, most of your records have been changed; 'George' no longer exists. We wanted to keep your birthdate the same, but we had to make adjustments for the apparent age of your body, which we speculate will end up at about..." Susan had already done the math in her head. "Seventeen." "Right. Your license expires in a few months; that gives you a chance to get a more accurate picture taken." "I can't even drink at seventeen," Susan mused. "I know. Sorry. But, technically, you really did lose about five years, since so much of your body was replaced with new cells. Well, folks, It's been a late night. Marcy and Dara have to get up early. We'll leave you four alone and see you all in the morning. Good luck!" "What's going on?" Susan whispered to Karen as the others filed out. "We're going to spend the night together. You and I will need to keep an eye on Marcy and Dara to see how their reaction to your pee is. They have two separate flights early tomorrow one to California, one to Europe, where they'll start their work." "Why so early?" Marcy and Dara finished shaking hands with the others, and closed the door. Marcy fielded the question. "Safety of the project. Right now, we're essentially all eggs in one basket. You can bet that, if we were all in one place, and news of this leaked out, they'd try to put a stop to us all. Once Dara and I have disappeared into the countryside, we'll be spreading the abilities you're going to give us to an initial network of women that we set up. We figure that within two weeks we'll have spread our abilities to over 120,000 women. Nobody can stop us then. By the end of the year, just about every woman who wants these powers will have them. When our work is done, we'll be back to see you again. Before then, nobody will really know where we are." "Maybe not even us," Dara inserted. "What happens to us here, then?" Susan asked, as Karen and Marcy began to undress her. Karen answered. "You and I have responsibility for the women here. Once everyone's converted they'll be able to spread the new programming in the local area. By then the secret will be out. I'm going to spend much of my time training _you_ to be a woman. You'll need to learn about clothing, makeup, and much more in the time that you're here." Staring at Susan's chest, she added: "I'm kind of hoping I'll get to fit you for your first bra." "Think about... It's dreamy." Dara strolled around the room. "In six to eight months women will outnumber men three to two. A year from now, assuming that elections go on like they're supposed to, most of the world leaders will be female, and we'll start to strip away the economic, political, and other advantages that men have held on to for years. "Wow..." said Susan. "Outnumbered and outclassed, they'll be powerless. It sounds like we're already treating them like a lower life form. Is that fair?" "You're forgetting... the ones who are left are, even now, a 'lower life form'. The deserving ones will all be invited to join us. Those who get left behind deserve to be." This was still quite a lot for Susan to handle. She'd be able to invite the men she knew to be kind, and good-- several of her best friends-- to join her own gender-- to be like her. They wouldn't be left behind. She'd see to it. ==================== Evolution / 7 ==================== "I don't know about you, Dara, but I'm already a bit tired of being a 'lower life form'", Marcy noted. "Oh, I'm sorry... Here I am holding something you need very much inside of me, and I haven't thought to offer it to you. Would you care to partake in my 'bodily fluids' so you can begin your mission?" "Gee, Susan, I don't think there's a more elegant way to ask if you can pee on someone. I suppose that Dara and I will have to accept your offer. Where would you like to perform this 'ceremony'?" "Don't ask me. I don't know where we're supposed to go. I thought you knew the inside of this place." "Sorry. The bathroom's right through there." "Oooh; isn't this a big moment in history? Shouldn't we have pictures or something?" Karen asked. "Good idea, Karen.", Marcy replied. Susan made a funny face at the thought. "I'll run down to the media center and grab a camera," Karen said. "I'll be right back. Wait for me!" "Bring Susan something to drink, if you would. We need to keep her fluids up-- I don't know if she can do both of us right now." "I am pretty full," Susan answered. "I haven't gone to the bathroom all day. I used to dread having to sit down to do it. Now I kind of like it!" "Atta girl", Karen said, leaving the room. She returned minutes later with a professional minivideo camera and a bottle of juice for Susan. Marcy was first. All four headed into the bathroom, Karen with the camera. Marcy took her place in the tub, and Susan awkwardly climbed in after her, finding a place for her feet to go. She half-squatted. "Like this?" she asked. "Spread your knees a bit, so it won't run down your legs. Like I did when I peed on you, remember?" Susan flashed back to that fateful moment, then squatted down a bit. She felt something strange happen between her legs; it was the sensation CHAR BACof her labia parting for the first time. "Wow..." she exclaimed, feeling the air against her like this; running a finger between her legs, she felt her own warmth, and dampness. She looked up at Marcy. "Nice pussy," Marcy smiled. "Might I have a lick before you do your business?" "That does it!", said Dara, who put the camera down. "Here we are about to make history, and Marcy's tongue has to get into the act. Now I'll have to edit out all this smut." Susan responded quietly. "Hmm... I seem to remember being urinated on by a particular female without being offered a 'lick' first." Dara laughed. "Way to go! Give her what she's really got coming!" "I don't know..." Susan said, as she squatted over Marcy's face. "Maybe a lick would be nice, or, _perhaps_..." "You wouldn't..." was all that Marcy could suddenly manage. "Here goes nothing", Susan said, taking a deep breath. Nothing happened for several tense seconds-- the future of womanhood again seemed caught in the balance-- and finally, Susan's pee began to flow from her young pussy. It took less than a minute for Marcy to become completely saturated. "Wow," Dara said. "Susan really soaked you well. What's it feel like?" "Delicious," came Marcy's reply. "Hot, slippery, and I can feel my skin tingle. She tastes very strong-- she hasn't had enough to drink today." Marcy lifted her head and kissed Susan between the legs, licking her clean. "My skin is tingling." "Well, Susan, did you save anything for me?" Dara asked. "Better let me have that juice first. I don't have enough control yet to stop like you two can." Marcy sat, immersed in Susan's pee, for several minutes. Karen returned the camera; Susan drank the juice Karen had brought; Marcy showered and dried off. Tired, the four decided to climb into bed for a while; Susan promised to wake Dara up when she was ready to pee again. Karen slept next to Marcy, who seemed totally unconscious. Dara was next, and Susan cuddled up to her. A few hours later, Susan prodded Dara awake. The two slipped from the room quietly as not to wake Marcy or Karen. They disappeared into the bathroom, closed the door, and Susan did her business on Dara's waiting body. Several minutes later, the two of them were clean and dry, Susan's bladder now completely empty and Dara now experiencing the tingle. They slipped back into bed. The next morning, Dara and Marcy left. "You'll know if we were successful. Pray for us." They had each had one final medical examination on their way out. Karen took Marcy, dressed in robe only, three floors down to the media center, a large room filled with video and communications equipment. They watched various monitors to see Marcy and Dara being loaded directly into the back of a large truck up on Industrial Avenue. The view caught a bit of the inside of the truck, which seemed to be dingy and full of boxes. These swung aside to reveal a comfortable seating area, however. The two climbed into the truck, and the door lowered. A minute later the truck left the dock. Next stop: the airport. "Ingenious, isn't it?" Karen asked of Susan. "Just one sneaky way to get large numbers of women into and out of this complex without attracting attention to the place. On the outside, that looks just like a standard delivery truck." "How big is this 'complex'?" "Well, since you ask, it's 11 stories underground. The auditorium and main office you've already seen. There is housing, kitchen, laboratories, libraries, classrooms, and more. This is the media center-- where we monitor all sorts of broadcasts, produce our own material, and so on. When we're holed up here, it's our link with the world. These people-- and our 'operatives' across the world-- will be monitoring the airwaves to see when this story first breaks. Anyway, we all have the run of the whole place-- we don't keep secrets from each other-- so you can feel free to explore everything, and ask anybody any questions you might think up. That's one of the best things here-- we're really a very well-knit group. We believe that all women would be like this, if it weren't for the negative influence that men have had on our society. It's all part of the experience. We'll have a meeting tomorrow to arrange the next stage of our plans here. Today, however, we get to relax and have fun. I'll take a little time this afternoon to start teaching you about clothing, makeup, and the other things you'll need to look normal outside of this place." "You know, I've never understood makeup. It seems so... vain..." "True, I agree. Once we've achieved unity we'll have no need for such things. For now, though, you'll need to learn how to fit in as a woman. You haven't had all those years with your mother teaching you these secrets." "But you have, Karen. Just after we became sexual together, you always took pains to show me what it was like to be female. You had me help with your panty hose-- I've even put your tampons inside you-- Wait a minute, you knew all along. That was all intentional, wasn't it? To get me used to all these feminine things you already knew I'd be surrounded with?" Karen didn't become the slightest bit defensive. "Well, I can't say I really KNEW you were going to become a woman-- we didn't know if it would work-- but of course I knew of the project, and had reason to expose you to things that most men just ignore. But I really did it because I liked sharing myself. I always used to ask you what it felt like to be a man-- because I've wanted to share you as well. One reason we wanted you to be the first was because you maintained that interest-- never biased, never discriminatory-- you were sincerely interested in what women felt like. And now you are one, and get to find out for real. Until you became a girl, there's just no way to really teach you everything, is there?" "You did the best you could. You know something, Karen? I really thank you for that. You've always been great to me." "I couldn't be as close as I wanted to, unfortunately. I had to keep a little distance-- and couldn't share this fantastic secret-- to prevent it from leaking out-- and to avoid arousing any suspicions that something special was going to happen. But all along, I knew-- if I could have any partner in the whole world, it would be you. I'm the only woman anywhere who knows what it was like to make love to your male body." "Maybe we should explore what it's like now." "I'd like that," Karen answered. "Very much. Of course, we have all the time in the world now. Once we've..." "Karen?" Susan interrupted. "Would you like to be next? Can I share these powers with you? Today?" "Susan... I'd love it. I was hoping you'd ask. Just tell me when you're ready and I'll lie down between those gorgeous legs anytime." "I think I'm ready now." They went to Karen's room. In minutes, it was over. Karen had the tingles for several minutes, and then took Susan down to the cafeteria for a late breakfast. On the way back, they stopped at the communications room. The monitors displays various pictures; broadcast television, satellite transmissions, and two news wires. A different crew of women were on duty now, keeping an eye on the display. "Anything yet?" Karen asked of them. "Dara made it to San Francisco successfully and has already done it with the first three people in her network. We won't be hearing from her again for a while. Marcy's plane hasn't arrived yet. She's due in Tokyo this evening." "See, it's started already, Susan," Karen whispered. "They'll 'infect' a few dozen women in San Francisco, and by this afternoon most of those women will be scattering to different cities. The early stages are still critical, and we need to spread as quickly as we can. By the time the world's male population figures out what's going on, we need to be very well dispersed. That way quarantines, blockades, even a widespread attack won't stop us." "You're not expecting major violence, are you? I can imagine that the men of the world will be mighty mad when they first hear of..." "No, no. Two sides to that plan. First of all, we have women in fairly high places that are on our side. Second, we're scheming that by the time they learn about this, their best individual and collective strategy will be simply to cooperate. They can't stop us without hurting themselves. They'll need to be told that this isn't a local event-- then they'll realize that it's hopeless." "Aren't other women likely to resist? What about the married women who want to keep their husbands?" "That's OK. We may even have several generations of men left still to come, while there's still women left that can bear male children. But they won't be in any significant number. In our studies so far, most women wouldn't mind losing their ability to bear male offspring; even though some will want to keep their male partner intact. Any woman who's ever been oppressed in any way will certainly want this new ability to defend oneself. We're also predicting that nearly 30% of the male population will voluntarily want to become female, given the advantages. There's a whole library filled with the work we've done; you should take some time and explore it." "There's just too much to do!" cried Susan. "Of course. You came into this, by definition, at the most critical moment. It will get better." The meeting the next day was held in the auditorium and discussed the prearranged plans for handling the media. Lisa would be making an official statement, and would interviewed by a male New York newscaster that they'd contact once the news was "out". Susan spent most of her time with Karen, learning from her. They examined Susan's developing genitals in a mirror so Susan could learn about herself; Her labia had darkened a bit, and could now be separated completely. Karen slid one finger between Susan's legs, and both gasped at the feeling as it slid into Susan's newly-formed vaginal opening. Her urethral opening was only barely visible with close inspection; it was a tiny spot just above the entrance to her vagina. Susan's breasts seemed to be swelling a bit. Whenever either of them needed to pee, they told Lisa, who joined Susan the first time, and afterwards directed another woman to join her. The "epidemic" spread quickly to most of the women in the complex. Once everyone had gotten it, many would leave to start spreading it outside the complex. Karen and Susan decided to spend part of the evening in the complex' library, the storehouse of research, simulation, and project results, years of philosophical debate, and meeting minutes. The library occupied one of the bottommost floors of the complex, and took up much of the floor despite the fact that most of the records were computerized; there were quite a number of library terminals, as well as simple living space where the researchers could study or hold discussions. A doorway led out to a small lab and the stairways up; the only other door led down to a storage area and emergency exit stairway back to the surface. The library was vacant at the time the two women arrived; the activity upstairs was keeping everyone quite busy. Another woman followed them in. "Alyssa?" Susan asked. Alyssa was one of the marketing assistants at George's former workplace, and the first such person that Susan had seen here. "Susan? Wow... That's really you? In person? Wow, George, as a girl you look very amazing..." The conversation went on for several minutes before Alyssa had to tear herself away; she had been tasked with bringing up one of the few boxes of informational brochures that the group had prepared ahead of time, and the boxes were in the storage room. "Stop by and visit later!", Susan called after her. "I'd love to!" responded Alyssa. She was one of the people who hadn't been granted her new powers yet. Karen led Susan through the volumes of information that were available, pointing out those things that she should spend time reading first. Needless to say, it was too much. Karen sat down to read some light fiction; Susan sat at a terminal and soon found herself going through some of the research notes. What she found was startling. The amount of work that these women had to go through to find and activate these new capabilities was amazingly _little_; switching on particular genes, a few flipped 'bits' seemed to cause these powers to appear in neat, simple groups. Ordinarily, one would expect to spend years simulating millions of DNA combinations to find one that acted remotely similar to a trait one was interested in activating; yet in this case, even the early simulations led to powers that were almost identical to those being searched for. No wonder it all was possible in just over ten years; it had fallen into their laps. So few changes were necessary that-- no wonder it was so easy to spread the capabilities to other women. Susan cross-referenced from the genetic research notes to the corresponding philosophy and biology studies. Here she found exactly what she was looking for, and was shocked anyway. The typical human DNA pattern-- the result of thousands of years of human evolution, the changing blueprint of a successful species until medical intervention shut the evolutionary process down-- had likely been poised on the brink of exactly this turn of events all along. Susan remembered the words: "A successful species tends to become single-sexed." Another few hundred years and odds were that some random mutation might have expressed at least one of these new traits in some female child somewhere on the planet. Sure, some fine-tuning had been done, but it appeared that all that these women had done was to advance what might have been a natural evolutionary step. In the storage room one floor down, Alyssa finally found the box of booklets she had been looking for. They described in some detail the "evolutionary" changes that were going on, and was a guide for owners of these new capabilities. It was a very condensed version of what Susan was reading, and included phone numbers of what would be regional "support" groups for people who wanted to know more about what was going on. They couldn't distribute any of these brochures yet, for obvious reasons, but shortly, once the project was a success, the group had predicted an intense demand for this information; the few boxes of such information that the women had printed in advance was destined for press release packets. Alyssa left the box flaps open, and headed for the the wire stairs leading to the platform above, where the door to the library was. A strange sound stopped her. She stood absolutely still. The sound was coming from the emergency stairway; a high buzzing sound, the sound of a lock being drilled. ==================== Evolution / 8 ==================== The door opened before Alyssa could get off a single scream. A flashlight was lying in the dark stairway. The man opening the door carried a gun. He quickly assessed the situation, and took aim at Alyssa. "Not a sound," he said. "Stay quiet and you'll live through this. Otherwise..." He glanced around. "I thought so! I've known something funny was going on here." He advanced towards Alyssa, who was now shaking with fear. "Let's see what you've got." He grabbed one of the booklets out of the box Alyssa was carrying; Alyssa breathed the word "No...." in protest. "Quiet! I'm not afraid to use this," the man said. He backed off a pace, so he could read while keeping Alyssa in view. She slowly set down the box. With each passing second, the man was learning more and more about what was going on, and thus becoming more dangerous. Alyssa slowly set the box down. "My God... It's worse than I thought..." was all he could say for the moment. Alyssa advanced towards him a bit; "Let me explain..." He finished skimming the brochure, and stabbed towards Alyssa again. "No. It seems that we have to stop you before you women make any of..." He shook the brochure... "this... madness happen. You're going to come with me. " Alyssa backed off, and he advanced towards her, his empty hand reaching out to grab her. "No... Never... we've worked too hard... It's too late..." Alyssa whispered, and soon found herself backing up to the wall, under the stairway. The man advanced towards her. Alyssa slumped down to the floor, against the wall, in the shadows. He advanced towards her, with one hand reaching towards her neck... A soft, warm rain fell upon exposed flesh and cotton clothing; porous cotton quickly wicked it to the skin underneath. This skin, like most, was fairly impervious to the water molecules that were coating it, but it was not impervious to the enzymes, proteins, gentle acids, steroids, and other substances that the water molecules deftly carried with them. The invading liquid found its way into sweat glands and hair follicles, other pores of all sorts, and as it soaked through deeper layers of cotton fabric, to other orifices as well. Some escaped into the air, finding its way into nose, throat, and finally lungs. The invasion was sudden, brutal, and very confusing to an immune system which found nothing to launch an attack against. Alien substances assaulted from all sides. Defense mechanisms tried to slow, or buffer, or somehow neutralize the attack, initially with some success, but these mechanisms exhausted themselves rapidly, leaving no further defense for the continuing onslaught. It was confusing delicate neural circuits, disrupting hormonal messages, and causing their victim immediate dizziness and loss of motor control. The substance was powerfully female and ordinarily would have no business inside a male body, but there seemed no way to stop it. These feminine substances had already entered the bloodstream, and the heart obediently pumped them throughout the entire organism. The most protected, masculine parts of this body also proved to be the most vulnerable; the invading fluids seemed to have no regard for them at all, changing that which should not be changed, disrupting processes that could not be easily repaired. The man collapsed to the floor just next to Alyssa, soaked and surrounded in a warm yellow liquid. As he fell, he looked upwards, spotting two women on the platform above him, one crouched near the railing. Susan lowered her skirt, and stood back up. She looked down at the two wet figures below her, and took a deep breath. Karen patted her on the back. "Alyssa! Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" She ran down the stairs just as the door from the library opened again. A posse of women sprinted onto the platform, led by Lisa, who held some kind of weapon. "Yes... Yes... Fine!" shouted Alyssa. "Shaken up, but O.K." Susan looked over the edge of the railing at her. "Sorry, Alyssa. He was too close to you. There was no way to get him without getting you wet also." Alyssa looked up. "Holy cow, Susan... You sure do worry about things! You saved me from this creep... and think I'd be upset at being wet? I'm grateful!" The women on the platform, including Susan, went down the stairs to survey the situation. The man was barely conscious, and couldn't move. Lisa grabbed him firmly by the collar and dumped him flat on his back. "Daniel Albertson," she said. "He's the guy we bought this building from, indirectly. Somehow he circumvented the security sensors in the stairway and on the door." Susan looked up. "What brought you here, then?" "Voice sensor. He must have said something after he entered the room, and the detector discriminates against male voices and notified the guard upstairs. But it looks like our panic is for nothing, thanks to Susan. I really have to commend you..." "It was nothing. I thought I heard a noise out here, and realized that Alyssa had been down here for too long. Fortunately, he didn't hear me, and with Alyssa up under the platform, was walking right under me." "My skin tingles," noted Alyssa. "Good," said Lisa. "We'll clean up here. Don't sleep alone tonight." Susan's eyebrows perked. "I've always wondered; why that warning?" "It makes sense not to leave people alone in case they have an adverse immune reaction. As long as we have a choice, at least. It wouldn't be serious in either case, but she might get sore if she develops a fever-- and simple aspirin would avert that if we need it." "Oh. What do we do with Daniel, here?" Susan asked. Daniel was barely conscious now. "Bring him upstairs and secure him; we'll place him under medical observation," Lisa suggested. "We can use the opportunity to verify that our simulations were accurate. We'll also need someone to re-secure the back door." "Then what?" Susan asked. Karen smiled. "Leave him to me!" It took less than twenty-four hours to verify that the simulation was accurate. The shutdown of certain male traits became permanent within the first hour, but the rest of Daniel's body remained functional. He was conscious and alert, and mad as could be when he discovered that he had been secured at the wrists with sturdy cuffs attached to a pair of strong steel cables. There was enough slack for him to reach the bathroom, and wander around a bit. The cables were anchored to some spot underneath the bed. His clothes were gone. He sat on the edge of the bed, cables trailing behind him on the bed, pondering his fate. He felt quite weak. He looked at the sore spot on his arm where Dr. Carlson had taken his blood for analysis. The door opened, and Karen peeked in. "Good afternoon," she told him. Daniel jumped to his feet. "What do you want? When I get out of here..." He tried to hide his muscular weakness. Karen stepped outside the door and flipped a switch. A humming sound came from under the bed, and the steel cables slowly retracted through the slot between the bed and headboard. "Lie down, please," she told him, stepping in through the door. Susan followed. Teeth clenched, he advanced towards her until he reached the limit of the cables. He tried to reach forward, and the cables soon tipped him backwards, where he fell onto his bottom, and then his back. Soon his entire body was being dragged, by the wrists, across the floor. Karen shut the switch off. She was amazingly stern. "I said, _lie down_. Or we can just drag you back into bed." Daniel stood up, and sat down on the edge of the bed again. "This is kidnapping, you know. I could have you..." "Hmmm... For someone who's guilty of breaking and entering, I'd..." "Go ahead, then, call the police. Call them." Karen flipped the switch again, pulling Daniel down onto the bed. Soon his wrists were at the headboard, at which point the winch motor shut itself off. "I don't think so, dear. As you can tell, we don't need any interference at this point. But you-- we can handle." She came over to him and sat down at his side, and ran her fingers down his neck and along his body. "Everything will be fine. Just fine. Right, Susan?" Susan nodded, but remained silent. "Help me with this, would you?" Karen raised her arms, and Susan pulled the sweatshirt from her. Karen wasn't wearing a bra. Susan knew what was about to happen. Karen ran her fingers across Daniel's face again, and snuggled up to him. She brought her naked bosom closer and closer to his face. "Just relax. This'll be fun." Daniel turned away from her, struggling as much as his weakened body could. Susan had no problem holding his ankles down. "No! No!" he shouted. "I see you read quite a bit of our informational packet," Susan noted. "Relax, it's all quite painless. And you must be very hungry by now." She took his head with one arm, and brought her right breast to his lips. Daniel managed only one more muffled word in protest before Karen's breast sealed against his lips. She squeezed him into her, slowly oscillating him against her soft flesh. Her mammary glands began to activate. "Ouch!" Karen shouted. "Oo..mmmmm.. Bite if you like, dear. It turns me on. Ooooh, here we go..." Susan looked on, but couldn't see well. She tried to imagine what Karen was feeling right now. Daniel struggling increased as he tried to resist Karen; so Susan stayed at the foot of the bed for the moment. "That's it... now just swallow. Swallow! Come on..." Daniel swallowed. A mouthful of warm milk flowed down his throat, and special hormones began to enter his bloodstream. "That's it. What a good boy! You _are_ very hungry." Karen continued to nurse him in silence for several minutes, then separated from him, moving her other nipple into place. He buried himself in her bosom and sucked eagerly now. "How do you know when to... switch?" "You can feel it. I feel-- empty on the other side. Jeannette tells me that it'll take a few days for me to get up to maximum capacity. God, Susan, this is so great... so... erotic. I can't wait until you have real breasts of your own." Susan looked down at herself. Her own nipples protruded only slightly from her body. The puffiness around them had expanded a bit, but the "growth phase" that facilitated her conversion into a woman was nearly over; her breasts would grow now according to a more "normal" timetable. Her secondary sex characteristics were becoming prominent now, though; she had the beginnings of pubic hair which was starting to hide her well-developed genitals. "I can't wait either," said Susan. "I envy you right now." "Mmmm...." said Karen. "You'll have your own chance soon enough. Well, I think... yes, we're done for now, Daniel." She separated from him. There were visible traces of milk around his mouth. He said not a word, and she carefully lowered his head back down. He closed his eyes; Karen's secretions were already taking over control of his metabolism, as they were supposed to. They left him for now; Karen flipped the switch outside the room such that the cable would again unspool if he tugged on it. He'd be needing to get to the bathroom soon, as his body began to disassemble itself. The charts that Jeannette Carlson kept showed that his weight loss was measurable by the next morning, and within days the changes to his body were visible. As a test, they offered him solid food, which he wanted, but was unable to keep down. Several times a day his hunger became overwhelming; and he just had to have Karen, despite the rational thoughts he had-- he knew that each additional dose she fed him simply made matters worse. Karen's breasts were swelling noticeably, and as a result the feedings became longer and more frequent, and further accelerated their effect upon Daniel's body. Susan and Karen shared a bed throughout this time; although it was tempting to see Karen's moist nipples next to her, she dared not partake of them, as she might then end up sharing Daniel's fate. "I wonder what will really happen," Susan said at a group lunch. "It's such an appealing mechanism-- even Daniel no longer seems to mind what's happening to him. What'll happen to the human population count?" It turned out the research here had already been done, as well. Two major factors-- the one that Daniel was experiencing, and the simple change of making reproduction much more voluntary than it had been-- would indeed reverse the trend of population growth-- but only for a time. As land, food, water, and other resources became plentiful in comparison to the current sorry state of affairs, the new population would reach equilibrium. The potential carryover of human knowledge from one life to another could be a great asset to the species, and without substantial fear of self-destruction, the species now seemed to have much better long-term prospects, rather than simply an exponential population curve. The few reports that the group had been receiving from the outside world were entirely positive. The initial networks were nearly exhausted, meaning that almost all of the women who knew anything about these new capabilities now had them. Soon the spread would be more into the general population; and the reason for keeping the secret _secret_ was becoming less and less important. Susan spent much of her time in the library and media center, trying to learn as much as possible; and the rest of the time with Karen, who was now becoming more and more preoccupied with Daniel. Susan went along with Karen for one of her feedings (the first in several weeks) and was shocked. Daniel was no longer restrained because he didn't have to be. He was the size of a small child, and definitely posed no escape threat. "I can't believe it..." she whispered to Karen, who was unbuttoning her blouse for the next feeding. "He's so small... so fast!" "It IS a short process," Karen answered, as she went over to the bed. "Ordinarily your body spends most of its energy on maintenance, and very little on growth. Now he's getting very little energy. When any given cell is worn out, rather than being replaced with a new one, it just merges with its neighbor; he excretes the remainder. He can't help it." Daniel looked up, and was amazingly lucid. "Maybe I can! I'm not as hungry as I usually..." Karen showed little sympathy for him. "Of course not. You're much smaller. My tits almost weigh more than you do." It was a big exaggeration, but got the point across; Karen's capacity far exceeded Daniel's. Susan nearly took her seriously for a moment. "Actually, I think you were a bit larger last..." Karen didn't need Susan to finish. "True, actually. I can feel it. I think I'm starting to shut down already, now that he can't empty even one breast anymore." Daniel's world was reeling. A few weeks ago he was so normal, so complete; and was on the verge of saving the rest of his gender from this hideous, secret onslaught. Now he was nearly powerless, his body tiny, his entire life enslaved to the body of this woman who now lifted his entire self to her bosom... for the last time. He could barely drink at all; perhaps it was his sudden depression and regret; perhaps he had tired of the same diet for weeks, or maybe was finally beating the addictive effects of Karen's milk. In reality, though, it simply meant that his digestive system, no longer needed in this scheme of things, was shutting down. It was, unfortunately for him, far too late to make up for the threat he had posed to the women around him. He tried anyway, and Karen made it perfectly clear that they had no intent to "save" him. Susan, who still remembered her act in the storage room very clearly, felt the same way. "But what's going to happen to me?" Daniel asked, his eyes filling with tears. "You didn't read that when you broke in, and threatened my friend's life?", Karen asked him. "Well... I didn't... I guess so..." Daniel had read this, but didn't want to believe it. "I think you'll be finding out soon enough." They left him when Jeannette came in to take the next set of measurements for the record. "I'll need to see you today, Karen. It's getting close and I want to see how you're doing." Karen nodded. It was indeed "close". Karen's pelvic examination only an hour later showed that the dilation had already begun. She was no longer lactating, and her vagina was becoming increasingly wet. "How do you feel? Are you hungry?" Jeannette asked her. "I feel fantastic. But I haven't been hungry for several days," she admitted. Susan, who was watching all this, asked why. "Well, her body's getting ready to recieve a whole bundle of new energy. If one has to eat more to make a baby, one eats less when... doing the reverse. That way Karen here will stay in good shape. You'll probably eat virtually nothing for a day or two... afterwards. But that wasn't the hunger I was referring to." "Oh." ==================== Evolution / 9 ==================== Karen returned to Daniel's room. Susan, of course, stayed with her. A set of cameras and a television panel had been placed in the room, as well as an additional lamp, and the sheets and blankets had been changed. Daniel was awake, which was unusual. He was sitting in the middle of the bed; too small even to climb down. He was now the size of a small baby, but seemed to still have adult-like features. He was visibly nervous when Karen walked in. Susan switched on the television, and settled down into a chair, placing a portable communicator next to her. Karen sat on the bed, picking up Daniel, and cuddled him in the blanket. Another woman, who had been watching Daniel since Karen left, left the room herself. Several hours passed. "So, how do _you_ feel?" Karen asked, looking down at Daniel. He could barely talk. "I... I don't know. What are you doing... now?" Something on the news caught Susan's attention, and she shushed him. False alarm; the story about women "attacking" men had nothing to do with them. "Sorry. What did you say?" "What's going to..." The first serious contraction hit Karen before Daniel could finish. They came in quick succession, and Susan called for Dr. Carlson. Jeannette showed up in less than a minute. The picture on the television changed, and was now-- them. The Media Center was recording this event and playing it within the complex for the rest of the women to see, bringing all other activities to a near halt. Jeannette stood to one side of the bed, Susan to each other. Daniel was in tears. "What's HAPPENEEEN??" he cried. Again, Daniel's concerns were low on the list of priorities. "Okay, Karen, how do you feel?" "I'm REALLY 'hungry' now. And..." Another contraction. The crotch of her jeans darkened; they were soaking wet. Karen started to remove them. Susan picked up Daniel. "I think it's time, Daniel. I'm sorry there was no other way to do this. If only you hadn't broken in... things might have been a lot different now. But at least... you'll be famous. Think how many men would love to be inside of where you're going..." Daniel thought about it for a second. By now, Karen's jeans were off, and she removed her panties. "No! Please!" he tried to scream. Karen lay back on the bed. Her labia were darker than usual. Susan handed Daniel to her. "Wait until you can't stand it; then feet first," Jeannette reminded her. Karen, who was panting a bit. nodded. She drew in her legs. "No...." whispered Daniel, who watched in horror as Karen's knees lifted into the air. She held them together and held Daniel's back against them, so she faced him. Both were speechless. Another contraction; the hunger within her grew to immense proportions. She squeezed her legs together, but the need was quickly overwhelming her. She slid Daniel down so his tiny legs landed on her abdomen; and her comparatively massive, powerful legs began to spread apart. Daniel gasped and looked down as Karen's legs parted; he saw her fuzzy pubic area for the first time, and then gasped again as Karen's birth canal began to open below him. He didn't have time to react before she picked him up, now with great effort, and moved his body between her legs. She hesistated, trying to hold things off as long as possible. Another wave of vaginal muscle activity passed through her; and before he knew it his legs were between hers, her hands firmly on his torso. He tried, as much as he could, to move his legs out of the way of her opening. She settled him down against herself, and the slippery, wet skin moved out of the way, and her labia opened invitingly. Daniel looked up at her face. Karen's look was intense with pleasure. With one big push she shoved him down and in, engulfing his legs, lubricating him, and taking him into her up to his waist. Her vagina tightened forcefully around him, taking its first taste of his body, and would refuse to let him go. She slid her hands up to his shoulders, and prepared for the next push. Her labia slid up around his abdomen, and her wetness lubricated him. "Please..." Daniel whispered, in a weakening voice. He knew there was no escaping her body now, but knew of the choices she had with her new reproductive system; if she wished, he might live on, although in a different form. He pleaded with her, now barely audible. "I'll be a good girl. Give me another chance." Karen responded by relaxing her vaginal muscles and pushing down again, slowly and smoothly, until she had taken him up to his shoulders. She took her hands away from her genitals and leaned back. The familiar muscle tone soon returned, and the tightening muscles seemed particularly tight around his shoulders. He was sliding, slipping in, and the outer muscles of Karen's vagina eased him in as they contracted. Her labia snapped over his shoulders, and all that remained visible was his head. "I don't think so," she told him. He looked up at her, but could no longer talk. He couldn't move any part of himself that she had consumed; the fit was so tight; she was so warm and soft, except where her muscles threatened to constrict her neck. Karen's eyes were closed, her thoughts dreamy, this process so natural it seemed to happen by itself. She could feel her victim squirm within her, and reveled in it. Her mouth opened and her head collapsed down, tired. Jeannette whispered to Susan; "At last a few minutes rest for her..." Susan nodded again, then walked up toward the head of the bed. She wiped Karen's forehead. "How are you doing?" "I hope HAVING babies feels like this... I'll admit it's tiring, and I bet I'll be a little sore down there, but..." Karen looked down between her legs. Daniel's eyes were barely open, and his head was tilted back a bit since he didn't have the muscles to hold it up on his own. "I couldn't have even imagined it, Susan... Think about it... I can feel him inside me, every bit of him squirming, his little heart beating... You should try this someday..." Karen went back to panting. "You're making me envious again, Karen." "Just wait, Susan... It won't be that... Oops, here we go..." Everyone stood back and watched as Karen's powerful organs started to gear up again. "Goodbye, Daniel", Karen whispered, then leaned back. She started tightening her grip on him again. Her diaphragm moved up, and her abdomen expanded. Daniel couldn't squeak out a last word. Karen's birth canal squeezed him, forcing the last breath of air out of his lungs, collapsing his body, folding him up inside her uterus. In rhythmic motions, her outer muscles tightened, she would bear down a bit, which slid her cervix up over his body. Then her vagina would relax and slide down, and her diaphragm and uterus pulled inwards. His chin lodged against her for a moment, but the contractions soon overcame that. Soft feminine flesh pulled itself up over his chin, his mouth, and his nose. His lungs began to fill with her clear fluids. Centimeter by centimeter, the inchworm-like mechanism pulled his head inwards. He closed his eyes just before her labia covered them. After her lips consumed his forehead, powerful squeezing began from the outside of her vagina, pushing the last of him inwards. The birth canal began to close, and as Daniel's head moved through her cervix, Karen's abdomen stretched outwards significantly. This seemed to be the most difficult part for Karen, but also the most rewarding. The people and the cameras peered into the recesses of her body, getting a last glimpse as her muscles began to return to their state of tonal contraction; the birth canal changing back to an ordinary vagina; closing, sealing Daniel inside... forever. Karen slowly squeezed her legs together. She was exhausted, and soaking wet all over. Her labia touched together, and with a last 'hiccup', her cervix tightened over her victim's head. It was over. Jeannette, now satisified that everything was okay, left. Susan took some warm washcloths and cleaned Karen up, covered her with the sheets and blankets, then undressed herself and climbed in next to Karen. Karen was sound asleep in seconds; her reproductive system already hard at work dissolving and absorbing the tiny person inside of her; keeping him alive, but stripping him of the vital nutrients and substance that his own mother had given him before he was born. Karen was awake and alert the next day; well enough to move back to Susan's room. As time wore on, she became more and more energetic, as Daniel's stored energy fed her from within. Daniel was still somewhat aware of his surroundings. His skin no longer protected him from the outside world, which was fortunate, because he needed direct contact with the womb around him in order to get oxygen into his bloodstream. It seemed to be stiflingly warm inside-- which even he could rationalize; her womb was maintained at her own body temperature, and since he was surrounded by increasing amounts of clear fluid, sweat glands could not help him. This feeling passed, as he began to lose temperature sensations, and his body simply became a smaller and smaller part of Karen's. He could feel her move around; and occasionally even muffled sounds as she spoke with Susan, next to her. The sound of her breath, and her heart, seemed quite loud. The strongest sensation seemed to be that of her going to the bathroom, which happened several times a day; strong muscular contractions nearby, and the space he was in became much more roomy. She hadn't been eating; Karen was slowly metabolizing his body, transforming him into her own waste products, which she then excreted. Something peered into his thoughts. "Wow..." she said, spontaneously. "What?" Susan asked. "I can feel him. His personality, his knowledge... If I concentrate, I can sense his memories. Wow... No wonder he had to break in; he hates women. More now than ever; can't say I blame him for that. He was ready to kill Alyssa when you stopped him. He couldn't break the cycle of that hatred; that fear, that disrespect. Daniel?" "Are you going to let him in?" "No way. Especially with what I'm learning about him now. He's been a creep... forever, I think. His first girlfriend actually tolerated it; no wonder he thought he could get away with it. Anyway, this is not the kind of guy you'd let into your own thoughts, that's for sure. And I'm not going to rebirth him either. He'd never make a good woman. He'll be gone in a few weeks, and I don't think the world will miss him. I won't. I'll be happy to have my weight back to normal." "Good... I can't see you taking care of a baby anyway, at least right now." "No. I have the feeling that my first baby will be... Ours, Susan." Susan looked at Karen with the most intense admiration she had ever felt. Perhaps it was love; the same that George had felt for Karen all along. "Someday," Karen added. "I'd like that," Susan said, tears forming in her eyes. "I still love you. Now more than ever." "No more half-relationships... I can have you for real at last. You don't know how hard that was, with you so close and wanting you so much..." Karen's eyes watered as well. They hugged. The moment seemed like an eternity. "Susan! Karen! Come on!" Lisa shouted at them. KLXV, a UHF station in Los Angeles, broke the story as the science story on their six-o'clock news. A strangely coincidental number of men had shown up in hospital emergency rooms complaining of an unusual weakness or, in one case, impotence, and all quite certain that a woman was at fault-- but a different one in each case. The clips shown on the air of these people was nothing amazing. Their report noted that similar events were happening in other nearby cities. The nearest they got to the truth was when one man said on camera that a woman had "sprayed something" at him. "I think that's an advantage of our delivery method... you don't normally hear about pee on television," Lisa noted. "But no wonder that they're not talking-- it's like shooting someone and then complaining about the powder burns. I wonder what they did to..." "Piss some woman off?" Karen offered, smiling. Overall, the report was disorganized, and uninformative, but said that "further investigation" would be necessary. "We won't make an official statement for a few more hours; after that we'll need to calm people down a bit. Nobody will believe this report for a while; but they will start investigating. By now, there's more than a few males who've been 'hit'. It will take them a while to put the whole story together." That didn't happen until the next day. The story had finally been picked up by the networks, and reports of several men reporting to hospitals with severe weakness and loss of potency seemed to verify the story. "Undoubtedly the results of women who needed to use their powers right away, it seems," Lisa commented. "I can't say I blame them. Well, it's time for us to make our offer." "We've got him," one of the other women noted. "The link is ready to ABC News in New York. Lisa, you're on in two minutes." "Wish me luck," Lisa asked Susan. "I wish us ALL luck," Susan answered. ==================== Evolution / 10 ==================== Susan sat alone in her room, both exhausted and bored. She had been on the spot, or in the spotlight, for months now, and just as the pressure and excitement seemed to be letting up for everyone else, it seemed to be worsening for her. She hadn't slept well-- if at all-- for several nights now, but felt that tonight she'd finally be able to collapse, if from exhaustion more than a desire for rest. Only one person seemed to have things worse at the moment: Karen. Susan looked down at herself, as she had done so many times. She saw the body of a young woman, the body that now only occasionally seemed so unfamiliar. The tenderness of her breasts told her that they were still swelling, growing somewhat larger with each passing day. In the last week they had begun to assume a more normal, mature shape, from the immature, conical shape they had since they first budded on Susan's chest. In some ways it hadn't been as much fun as she had hoped; the events going on around her, events that were now thoroughly affecting the civilized world, had drawn her attention away from her changing self. She had wanted so much to explore herself and her developing body; but there hadn't been the time, and now she hadn't the energy. Finally, the knock came at the door. Jeannette Carlson entered and sat down across from Susan. She looked stressed. "She can't sleep," Jeannette said. "I know. It's Daniel, isn't it?" "Yes. We've tried everything, but she can't seem to suppress his thoughts. She can stay in control during the day, but at night, it's as if he invades her dreams-- telling her horrible things when she doesn't have the strength to quiet him. She's afraid to close her eyes." "So he's still there, it's not just her own imagination?" "No. Definitely not. We did another ultrasound and found that he's only about the size of a 6-week fetus now, but still very much alive. He's somehow conscious enough to affect her." "How's that? A fetus doesn't have enough brain matter to think, let alone..." Dr. Carlson nodded. "We don't really know. I suspect that much of her target's memory somehow gets transferred to Karen for safekeeping. It's only a theory." "It's so mean..." Susan sighed. "Will it end when he's... gone?" This event didn't seem too far away, as Karen's abdomen was now nearly flat, her body weight nearly normal according to the repeated observation and study she was undergoing. Jeannette looked down. "I don't know. I think her own conscience is bothering her. From inside Karen's own womb, he's telling her that she's a killer, a cannibal, a heartless monster. She hears it in her mind, hour after hour. We thought that she'd be able to control him, but she can't." "She's letting him in. She said she wasn't going to. Now she's actually believing what he's telling her. I've tried my best to get her not to listen, but..." "I know what you mean. It's so hard to compete from the... outside. I've dealt with the inside of people-- both physically and emotionally-- for over twenty years, and I've never felt so... outside... as I do with Karen. I've been hoping that he'd just fade away, but he seems determined to do as much damage as he can-- emotionally, of course." Susan looked down, and sighed again. "We may only have one choice, it seems. For Karen's sake, at least." "You can't ask her to go through that. To give up months of her life, to grant a new body to the one that's been so... mean to her?" Jeannette nodded. "I don't like the idea myself. From what she tells me, he's determined to fight us. It appears that the strategy is to shame her into giving birth to him, as it is." "Certainly he knows that even if Karen did it, he'd be born female. I can't imagine he'd have more revulsion at any other thought. Karen said so herself. And no person like that deserves to be a woman." "I know. But he's been devious. He's already told her that she might change his body, but he'd take full advantage of the situation. Look, Susan, you're a perfect woman. Inside and out. Completely. Right?" Susan nodded. "Right. I have memories of being... different, and I'm not always entirely comfortable yet, but I just _feel_ like a woman somehow." "Exactly. He'd be a man... A mean, nasty man... in a woman's body. Imagine having 'her' walk into a public restroom filled with other women. Somehow it's like handing your own 'uniform' over to the enemy. My God, she might even have children someday. Or--" (Dr. Carlson didn't feel the need to mention the other feminine powers that "Daniel" would be granted in this case)-- "Worse." Susan cocked her head. "Jeannette, I have a question. Part of all this research, and some of the things I found in the library, discussed the possibility of exactly what is happening-- theorized this 'link' that might establish between people when one was so engulfed..." "Yes. That was Dr. Anderson's work. She had the theory that some of those unexplained neural connections on the spinal cord were intended to form a kind of link between a mother and her child, but we never actually developed the capacity." "Or, if I understand, that the child never develops the capacity." "Right. You might say, that, in some ways, our children are extensions of ourselves. They share our nutrients, our body, our heartbeats, our respiration... they come from the innermost parts of our body. The only reason they're not further connected is..." Susan interrupted. "We're only successful when we can separate ourselves from them." Jeannette smiled, and the conversation trailed off for a moment. "What did you want to ask?" Susan sat for a moment. "What happened to Dr. Anderson? It seems as if she'd be most helpful, but I haven't seen her here." "Correct. She was a great help, but decided that her time on this project was done." Susan didn't understand. "But..." "Look, Susan, she's not an activist, like most of the rest of the women here. She had a great time working out theoretical details, but when it came to reality--" Jeannette extended her hand towards Susan-- "she wanted no part of it. When she found that we were nearly ready to turn you into a girl-- in fact, the morning that Dara and Marcy had to start ingesting the proteins for their urine-- it was too real for her. She wanted out; and of course we couldn't keep her here. She left under friendly terms, though. I believe she still lives in the city." "I wonder if she'd talk with Karen. Maybe there's something she knows that could help." "Perhaps. I doubt she'd take kindly to a visit, or want to come here. Perhaps she'd be willing to meet Karen somewhere else. I can talk with her. Of all the people here, I know her the best. I'll call in the morning. You get some sleep." "What about Karen?" Susan asked, as Jeannette stood to leave. "I've given her something to help her sleep. Both herself and Daniel. I'll try Dr. Anderson in the morning." The next morning came none too soon. Susan had slept very well compared to the sleepless nights next to a sleepless Karen. She stopped by Karen's room. Karen was still snoozing, thankfully. Susan was still tired, but wanted to find out if Jeannette had any luck. Jeannette wasn't in her room, and was in fact back in Karen's room, where Susan found her moments later. "We have to get you up," Jeannette said. Karen, awake but still quite drowsy, stumbled towards her bathroom to begin her morning routine. Jeannette saw the puzzled look on Susan's face, and answered it. "I got to Dr. Anderson. She agreed to meet Karen, but is leaving for Florida this afternoon, and so you need to meet before eleven. Go get ready." "Me?" "She wanted to meet with Karen alone, but I persuaded her to let you come along. You're her best friend, and I don't want Karen to be alone. You're going to Dr. Anderson's house after all." Susan hadn't been outdoors since she was brought to this place; and certainly not with the body she had now. It was early March, and she asked one of the other women what the temperature was like. It was unseasonably warm for early March. As she returned to her room, she suddenly realized she didn't know what to wear. She hardly had any clothes; while the other women had provided her with simple, plain clothing to wear inside the complex, and the one skirt that she had worn at her "introduction," she had nothing really-- appropriate. Pressed for time, she compromised on a sweatshirt and regular blue jeans. Having stepped into panties on a regular basis for over three months now, Susan was quite used to them, and had nearly forgotten all about the kinds of things that used to be George's underwear. Karen was still tired and somewhat weak from lack of sleep, and was very quiet. Susan escorted her to the huge front door, which was unlocked. She turned to one of the other women. "You mean... we just go... outside?" A woman behind a desk, who had been reviewing press releases, answered. "Of course. Right out front. There's a car out front, and the driver has directions." They went out through the outer, brick-walled room where Susan had first been proclaimed to be female; and through the outer door and up the stairs. There was very little need for security now; the complex was serving more as a coordination point for communications and information, to a nearly panicked public, than anything else. Most of the women who had been there, except for the volunteer coordinators, were now back at home. Susan hadn't yet asked what would become of herself. The sunlight seemed blinding as they left the front door on Industrial Street. There was indeed a car waiting, which quickly whisked them across town to a simple single-family home in the older part of town. Susan rang the doorbell. "I don't know what good this can do," Karen complained. She had not been herself for weeks. "It can't hurt." The door opened. Dr. Anderson was an older woman, with graying hair and a pleasant face. She invited her two guests in with a cheerful greeting, but led them both into her living room with a minimum of pleasantries. "So you used to be a man," she said to Susan. "I never thought I'd see the day..." Susan nodded. "Sometimes it's like a distant fantasy." Dr. Anderson puckered a bit and nodded. "You're a woman. Only sensible that you'd feel like one." Bluntly, she turned to Karen. "And you're another famous case, it seems. You say he's still inside you, and you can 'hear' him." Karen nodded. "Yes. Dr. Carlson said, based on her measurements, that I have less than a week to make my decision, though. I'm afraid that I might have to..." "Only a week before what?" Dr. Anderson asked. "Before... I can't reverse the process." "Hmmm... From what I understand, it's not reversible. Or have they changed things?" Karen picked up the misunderstanding. "Not 'reversible,' in that sense. But supposedly I can grant him-- a new body. That's what I'm having trouble with." "That I understand. Jeannette told me this. Why, however, are you having trouble with it? Are you upset by the thought of being... pregnant? Or scared of childbirth?" Susan smiled, and Karen snickered outright. "After what I've been able to do so far, I think that childbirth should be fairly easy." "Easy?" Dr. Anderson said. "I've had four children, and none of them were..." She trailed off, and wrinkled her face a bit. "How big was he when he..." Susan volunteered that information, holding up both hands to indicate the approximate size as best as she could remember. It was indeed about the size of a small baby. "Well... maybe. Gynecology isn't my specialty, of course, and I suppose if you're able to suck a squirming, though tiny, adult into your twat-- maybe childbirth will be easy. So then, are you worried about having to raise... her?" "After all the horrible things... and what he... Well, he's just so undeserving of it." Susan interrupted. "Dr. Anderson, that's what I wanted to ask about..." Dr. Anderson shushed Susan, somewhat rudely. "Then, Karen, you feel you're not in control of that? Most mothers are responsible for their own children. Bad children come from bad parents." "But I... It's not the same..." "Nonsense. You have a person inside your womb at this very moment, and it's as much your responsibility as any other part of you. If you give birth, it's _your_ baby, even if the development cycle is shorter. I'd say that with the link that Jeannette described, you have far more control than you think." "But I can't..." "You say that you can get into his thoughts, and he's apparently able to get into yours. Correct?" Karen nodded. "Get up," Dr. Anderson commanded. "Come over here." She had Karen lie down on the couch. "Contact him," the doctor said. "Reach inside his mind." "But..." Karen protested. "Just do it. Tell me what you find." Karen closed her eyes, then snapped them open a moment later. "I can't... I don't want to..." "Don't want to... what?" "It's like he's been waiting for me. I can't get into him without letting him..." Dr. Anderson interrupted again. "Of course. Children always give their parents some kind of feedback." "He's calling me a murderer," Karen reported. "He feels his body slipping away from him, and blames me for taking it from him." "Do you believe that yourself? Are you a murderer? Are you stealing his body?" Karen shuddered. "I don't know... I can't be sure..." "So, what you're trying to say, is that since you don't _know_ for sure, and you can hear him so clearly, that he _might_ be right, and you can't take that chance?" Karen thought for a second. Susan was fascinated; she had never seen this kind of drama unfold before her. Dr. Anderson was being very stern, almost to the point of being rude, and Susan was beginning to believe that there was something substantial to Dr. Anderson's approach. Karen finally spoke. "Yes," came the reply. Dr. Anderson's voice was suddenly much gentler. "Then why not give him the chance?" Karen closed her eyes again. "Because he doesn't deserve it." "Why not? You can read his mind. Tell me." Karen read his past again. The abuse as a child, the peer pressure, the misunderstandings, the upset, the betrayals, and finally the hatred of women. She relayed much of this to Dr. Anderson. "But he's _your_ child now. You can change all that." Dr. Anderson sat on the sofa next to Karen. "How?" "Reach into his mind again." "But it's so overwhelming..." "No. No, it isn't. Open you eyes and look at yourself." The doctor pointed at Karen's abdomen. "Right in here. He's insignificant compared to the rest of you. You surround him completely. He is yours; his body is now just a tiny part of yours. You have as much control over him as you do any other part of your own body; and his thoughts as much as your own." Karen closed her eyes again. "I'm here with him." Daniel was being amazingly cooperative; grateful suddenly for the mental attention Karen was offering. "Have him take you somewhere. Have him show you the things that bother him." Karen tensed as Daniel apparently obeyed her request. She felt the upset forming, the fear, as Daniel replayed some event from his past. Anger and hatred would follow shortly. Dr. Anderson whispered in Karen's ear. "Good. You're there with him. Now make it all better. You're his mother; you're his only hope. Fix it in your mind. Make him feel right..." Karen still seemed nervous. "I don't... know what to do." "If you can't help fix what he's showing you, then simply remove it from his mind. Think of calm, quiet darkness. Relieve him of this burden." A few seconds went by, and calm suddenly crossed Karen's face. "He feels good. He wants to take me somewhere else." "Go with him. You are all he has. Make him feel better. Then you can start teaching him that women aren't evil." Karen tensed again. The thought had gotten through to Daniel, who was reminded once again that his body was slipping away and that Karen was doing nothing to stop it. Dr. Anderson saw the expression change, and realized her mistake. "Calm him. Tell him he's alright. He's safe and warm. You won't let anything bad happen to him." Calm returned to Karen's face. She lay there in this dreamlike state for several minutes as Susan and Dr. Anderson watched in silence. Dr. Anderson got up and walked over to Susan. "I think she's gotten it." "Amazing. How did you know what to do?" Susan asked. "She didn't realize the power that she has. She didn't want to involve herself with him, so he was screaming louder and louder to her. Being ignored is a terrible thing when there's only one person in your life. Right now, Karen _is_ Daniel's life. He hangs in the balance with every beat of her heart." "What happens now?" "Let her explore for a while. She's becoming the... parent, I suppose, that Daniel needed. She'll be ready for a break soon, and with him comfortable she'll be comfortable soon. You can take her home then." Susan nodded. "I see." "Ironic, isn't it; Now that she realizes her power, she can accept him more readily. He trusts her now, enough that if she simply wants to absorb him completely, I'd expect he'd have no problem with it." "So he'd just fade away?" "He'd be in Karen's memory, at least. They'd be fused; one. If you ask where he goes, I'd have to ask where new babies come from. My guess is that it's the same place. I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me now; I still have to finish packing." Later, back at the complex, Karen was now faced with the most difficult task of all; not the decision itself, but telling Susan about it. -- @>---`---< >---'---<@ @> Karen Mitchell <@ @> LabRat@pobox.com <@ @>---`---< >---'---<@ From srcc!news!srcc.msu.su!news-service Mon Mar 03 16:49:43 1997 Received: by fudn.msk.ru (UUPC/@ v6.14g, 06Jun95) with UUCP id AA02638; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 16:49:42 +0300 (MSK) Received: by gamma.srcc.msu.su; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 14:15:21 +0300 Received: (from root@localhost) by news.gamma.ru (8.7.6/8.7.3) id OAA23358 for email@example.com; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 14:13:50 +0300 (MSK) To: firstname.lastname@example.org From: email@example.com.SPAMBUSTERS (Karen Mitchell) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg Subject: [News] Story - Evolution 11-15 of 25 Date: Fri, 28 Feb 97 15:46:10 -0600 Organization: Onramp Access, Inc. 512-322-9200 Message-ID: Reply-To: firstname.lastname@example.org (Karen Mitchell) NNTP-Posting-Host: onramp7-8.onr.com Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Ref: Gamma.RU alt.sex.stories.tg:8873 Sender: email@example.com X-Class: Big Precedence: junk Lines: 1931 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Length: 92962 Status: RO Don't forget to remove the .SPAMBUSTERS from my address before replying. I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. If this is offensive do not read - delete file. For those of us who enjoy .... enjoy! Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up with what I have now. Sorry about the forged header, but it does help keeping down on the junk mail. Karen Mitchell ==================== Evolution / 11 ==================== "I can see it in your eyes," Susan said, sitting next to Karen on Karen's bed. "You're going to give him another chance." Karen nodded. "I'm so sorry, Susan... I know what I told you, that we were going to have our... relationship, family... You've got so much to explore, and I feel that I'm taking myself away from you..." Karen's eyes filled with tears. "I love you so much, Susan. I wish there was another way..." Susan hugged Karen. "You're doing the right thing, Karen. It's what you feel inside. I'll be here for you." "Thank you. I just hope I know what I'm doing." "I do. You're going to turn an upset little boy, who's had a miserable life, into a beautiful little girl, so she can have another chance. Don't ask me how you start the process..." "Somehow I think I know." "How? What do you do to tell your body the decision?" "I can't explain it. I feel control over the process, somehow; inside. Like a major event that's coming up somehow. Jeannette said that I'm supposed to relax, bear down a bit, and think of having a baby... but I have something I need to do first." "What?" Susan asked. "Daniel. He's still a man in his own head. I have to prepare him for the change he's about to go through, or the shock will hurt him." Susan was surprised at Karen's growing attachment to Daniel. She began to feel the pangs of jealousy; Susan was losing her friend-- and possibly lover-- to a tiny fetus. "That's funny... The shock didn't hurt _me_," Susan argued. "It's different. You were prepared, whether you knew it or not. Part of that was my job, remember? We planted the seeds of femininity into you-- socially and emotionally-- long before you had a female body. Daniel's quite different, though. He has no sense of what it's like to be female. He never cared about the details of the women he was 'with,' didn't want to know about things like periods; he just didn't care. So I'll have to teach him. He senses that I'm about to start changing him, though, and he's fighting to hang on to his masculinity." Susan thought about her own past. "I did that too. It just takes time. But you know what they say: if he's scared about losing his masculinity, he's worried that he never had it in the first place." "I don't have much time. That's the problem. And he's just concentrating on what it was to be a man. I think he may need to forget all of that." Karen closed her eyes. Daniel, deep within Karen's womb, felt Karen probing into his mind. He knew her intent; she planned on stealing his memories of being male, his pure masculinity from him. As his thoughts wandered, she followed them, ready to latch onto and gradually erase his remaining hatred for women, as well as specific memories peculiar to men. He had such thoughts that he didn't want to let go of; of being "one of the boys," of having sex with women, of his own pride and, simply, manliness. He tried to avoid recalling these thoughts, however, for Karen stayed with him. Avoiding the thoughts was a futile effort; to avoid them he necessarily touched upon them, and Karen was there. Memories of his own masculinity faded, and he knew it was happening. The women he had slept with were forgotten; the unhappy events of his childhood were gone; his former girlfriends no longer existed. Finally he stumbled onto something else that Karen was waiting for; his own self-image. He remembered looking at himself, touching his penis, imagining it traveling into a woman's soft body. He felt sudden terror as Karen grabbed this. He dreamed of himself, and his own penis, and shock did indeed pass through him as it faded away. He became anxious, excited, and now tried actively to remember-- or store away, out of Karen's reach-- his memories of masculinity and knowledge of how his body used to be. He looked in his dreams between his legs, and saw female genitals instead. It was frighteningly unfamiliar at first, but Karen quickly calmed him. These parts, she told him, are all he ever had. The breasts he would soon have were natural. It was all fine. He began to calm again; and finally began to accept his new fate as if he was destined for it all along. Levels of FSH-- Follicle Stimulating Hormone-- were already rising in Karen's bloodstream, and surged as she finally left his thoughts and concentrated on her own reproductive process. She bore down, and focused on the thought. The follicles in both ovaries began initially to respond to the hormone, but finally one egg in her right ovary began to emit a countermanding hormone. The activity of all the other follicles stopped, and this one follicle, now well past the point of no return, continued to swell and expand. One wall of Karen's right ovary began to stretch and distend, the ovarian wall becoming thinner and thinner until, in what seemed to be a great explosion, Karen ovulated. In less than two days, the resulting egg found its target-- Daniel. It latched on to the remaining bit of matter left to his body, and soon pulled him inside, absorbing him. He felt a wave of change come over him, and lost consciousness, what was left of it, as the egg merged with him. Meanwhile, Susan searched inside herself, trying to find the "trigger" that Karen had found; and, for only the second time, seriously thought of what it would be like to have a baby. She felt jealous again. Only days later Karen's urinalysis showed her to be pregnant. Interestingly, the regular pregnancy test failed to detect that Karen had been "reversing" someone (as the popular culture was beginning to call it), as the pregnancy hormones weren't needed for a woman to perform this task. Karen and Susan spent much of their time together during these days, but Karen slept much more than Susan, her body working primarily to build her child's body. In only days Jeannette came up with an initial estimate of 5-6 months to Karen's "due date"-- shorter than a normal pregnancy thanks to the stored nutrients that Karen still retained from Daniel's absorption. So, Susan again found herself in her room, alone, and bored. She watched the news, finding the number of stories about the recent evolutionary announcements to be dwindling. Karen's "reversing" of Daniel and current pregnancy were certainly newsworthy, but Jeannette had decided to stall this story a bit for Karen's sake. She would easily be the first woman to change someone's sex in this way. The first baby conceived without a man's help, however, was already well on its way, having been conceived only about a month after its parents were urinated upon by someone in the third tier of Marcy's network. The pregnant woman was being kept under some security since the story broke; there was still much male resentment of this, and some men felt great fear that they were now becoming "unnecessary." Susan thought back to those first few days. The first news conference with Lisa had gone well, the male anchor being very calm and reserved, while still reporting the "major implications" that this story meant. It seemed that, at first, the impact wasn't understood by more than a few. Those "few" had been sure to attend one of the early public press conferences on this, where the group's scientists finally began to detail the changes to the female body. As they had covered only the clinical facts-- women's ability to defend themselves with a stream of urine, ability to fertilize each other, voluntary ovulation, and the ability to "absorb" (or now, "reverse") another person, men in the audience became enraged. They accused the women of "taking over," of "killing" their gender, and, the one accusation that the women accepted, of doing it behind everyone's backs. It took Lisa to prevent the situation at these press conferences, despite the tight security, become riotous. She addressed the outspoken men individually and firmly, listened to their concerns, and when the debate finally resolved to a jealous feeling, on the men's part, of being "left behind" and "enslaved" by the soon-to-be-growing female "majority," she made the offer she had been waiting to make to all men everywhere. "Then join us. That's what this is all about." The man who had been arguing collapsed into his seat, and the conference degenerated into more technical topics. Lisa announced that a series of seminars had been arranged for people who needed to know more-- which was just about everybody-- and a phone number to call for information on the seminars. The group back at Industrial Street was working feverishly now to prepare the materials for these seminars. The seminars were open to all people, for the most part. There were three different kinds of group sessions. The first was an overview of what was happening-- and meant very much to calm the worst fears of the public, especially the men. The second seminar, called "Your new body," was designed for women, who were interested in learning how these "new" abilities worked, and the primarily female audience could arrange "contacts" to have the abilities spread to them if they desired. The third seminar was intended for men who desired to become female, describing the benefits and realities of the transformation. The fourth seminar, which started many weeks after the first three, was intended for women who were planning to "absorb" a man. This last one was the most intense, each small group meeting for 10 sessions over five weeks. It was very much like a LaMaze class; attendance required paired couples-- one woman, and her "target"; the first 4 sessions covered the implications of the decision, responsibilities, and legal requirements (which were changing rapidly, as laws were changed to make such changes of identity and legal status much easier). The next 4 covered preparation and physical details of the engulfing and "absorption" process, and the final 2 were primarily just group discussion sessions. Karen's absorption of Daniel was the only real background data that they had; and a somewhat-edited version of this event was used as a training film. The rapid deployment of groups all over to teach these four courses had been a tremendous success. The initial outrage after Lisa's second press conference was as expected; Men were threatened and upset. Some groups of women went entirely overboard, declaring "victory over men at last," chanting some extremely sexist slogans, and generally doing their best to irritate the men around them. Just before this was about to explode, however, Lisa made, at the third press conference, a speech that captured the hearts of men and women alike. "My fellow women here..." (She extended her hand towards the women who had been chanting and carrying signs, who cheered) "... do us all a great disservice." (The cheering women became suddenly silent.) "This is not about victory and defeat, not about issues won or lost. This is not about women or men. This step in our history is about victory. It is about winning. And it is about humans. All of us. We've been divided for all time by an impenetrable barrier that has made us different from each other. Not better, not worse, though sometimes each of us can feel either way, but simply different. You cheer at our victory over men. I see no such victory. I see victory for the men, instead, whom we may now finally invite to join us, if they wish. I see victory for all humans, who may now take one step closer to living in harmony. In our struggle for equality, it seems at times that we've done everything possible to destroy it. Now it's time to do something positive. Men, we do this to give you a chance-- a chance to be one with us, a chance for a new life, a chance to live with us, and stride forward into a world that cares not about individual groups and special interests, but instead that which is best for humanity, and the planet." Public reaction had been somewhat different than expected. After this speech, particularly, more men than expected had shown an interest in becoming female. One group that the statistics had entirely forgotten was the group of transsexuals-- the number of people who were, psychologically, women but had been born with male bodies. While having undergone surgery to look female, these people could not bear children, and still had Y chromosomes, and the struggle to remain (and look) female still took away from their other efforts. The few men who were so outraged as to take out their anger upon women ironically aided the women's efforts. As certain cases where men became violently rebellious became known, it merely encouraged more women to desire the additional protection that their new bodies would give them, especially as that protection proved useful. Some acts of aggression, unfortunately, ended dreadfully. Many, however, ended up with the man jailed-- and sometimes with him soaking wet. It seemed that in the weeks following the initial announcement, nearly every man felt it necessary to make their decision right away, and the numbers closed in on 40%, which was close to the estimate. Fathers generally were the least likely to desire the conversion, as they felt that this would confuse or otherwise emotionally damage their children. Some mothers with young boys felt it best to convert these young boys into baby girls, as it would save them years of living as a boy only to become a girl eventually anyway. Fathers often disagreed with this. Many parents of handicapped children inquired if the process could give their child a new, better body; in most cases, the answer was yes. Some pregnant women made this choice on their own without the father's help. It was impossible for a woman who had been granted the new abilities to give birth to a baby boy unless that boy was more than seven months along; but if a pregnant woman before this point was exposed to the urine of a woman with these new abilities, it could change the baby's sex while still in the womb. The stories of fathers who had seen sonograms of their unborn male offspring, only to have the child born female, made for a good subject on the "Tabloid TV" programs. It distressed them that not only did they have a daughter instead of a son, but that this daughter would only be able to have girls, and so on; as if the father in question had become the "end of the line." Another topic was one plight of men that women hadn't predicted; it was, essentially, impossible for a man to distinguish a woman at this "new" evolutionary state to an "ordinary" female. The number of women who could bear male children was dropping rapidly, and some of the more old- fashioned men felt that they had to marry only those women who gave them a chance, at least, of having male children. A woman could hide the truth, however. Other new stories were cropping up; some expected, some unpredictable. Women who had not been converted were sometimes able to scare away would- be attackers with threats of a "weapon" they didn't have. The sexual assault rate dropped drastically; the number of "successful" attacks upon women dropped even further, to about 10% of its former value. None of this was news any longer to Susan, who, still flipping channels on the TV, saw nothing of interest at the moment. The group had decided to keep her out of the public view for now, for her own protection-- after all, she was the one who "started it all," and thus might be a target for senseless hostilities. Her name and picture were kept from the public for now. Eventually, it wouldn't really matter. Susan finally couldn't stand it anymore. She went to see Lisa, who was here only temporarily before yet another of her trips across the country. She told Lisa her situation-- that she felt that she was merely "vegetating" here, doing little good to anybody now that her historic feats were over with; maybe it was time to be getting back to "normal." Part of this feeling was out of jealousy and resentment towards Karen; everyone, especially Karen who was at this very moment working on fashioning a new life for the growing female inside her, seemed to be doing something very important. Inside, she wanted to be away from this constant reminder of what she had lost. Lisa listened distractedly for a moment and suddenly snapped into understanding. She apologized for the lack of attention that Susan had been getting, but pleaded with her to stay; if she would, Lisa wanted her to start teaching one of the seminars; after all, she might be able to relate to men much more easily about what it was like to be a woman. Susan appreciated this, but still didn't think she'd be helpful, at which point Lisa apologized again and pleaded for some patience on Susan's part. "I'm sorry things have been so rough," Lisa told her. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this; we all underestimated the number of things that would be going on. That's why we need your help." "I still don't feel helpful. Not like the rest of you..." Finally, Lisa sat Susan down. "Susan, I know this is difficult. The most difficult thing right now, for you, has to be that you're still a girl. A beautiful girl, but still quite young. We'll help you with that, I promise. You just need to be patient. I'd be most happy to set up a new job for you, but I've been so busy..." "What about my old job?" Susan asked. "Oh, Susan, that's way underneath you now-- for someone who's changed the world as we know it. We have more important things for you to do; you have experience that nobody else has, so far. Besides, if we sent you back to your "old" job, people might figure out who you are. It's a long shot, but we don't want you to become a target. Susan looked at her feet, solemnly. "What happened to George, then? Where did he go? How did Andrea explain my absence?" "You had to take care of a critically ill patient," Lisa said. She swallowed hard. "But officially, as far as the government is concerned, George no longer exists." "Gone? Erased? Or did you file a... death certificate?" "No," Lisa admitted. "We just had people in the right places change certain records. If someone looked hard enough, the most they might determine is that you disappeared under some kind of witness protection program. The same kind of approach is how we give you your new identity... you even have a birth certificate that shows you are female." "Oh." "Eventually, of course, there will be a streamlined procedure for this kind of thing. The bills we've proposing will, essentially, introduce a way to establish a new identity for people who get "reversed," whether they're given a new life or not. You have to sign a consent form with your target and two witnesses, and that gets filed." "I can't believe the government is going along with it. After the hard time that they've historically given homosexuals, transsexuals, and all sorts of 'unsanctioned' social transactions-- to imagine that they'd actually streamline a process for this..." "And there's not even a fee for filing it. I can't say they had much choice; either make the paperwork easy or risk losing track of half the population. I don't think we'll file it retroactively for you, though. As far as anyone, even myself, is concerned, you've been female all your life." "Sometimes I feel that way." "Just be patient, Susan, please. That's all I ask. You have great things in store for you. Perhaps later we can go out and get you some new clothes. Right now I have another trip to prepare for." Susan nodded, and moments later was back in her room, feeling both bored and tired again. ==================== Evolution / 12 ==================== Susan was awakened by the sound of her door opening. She had fallen asleep in the late afternoon of the previous day, still fully dressed; someone must have come by and turned the lights off without waking her up. It was 10:03 am. As she finally determined who her visitor was, she jumped to her feet in excitement. "Dara!" Susan ran to Dara, and the two hugged for several minutes. "Susan! I'm so happy to see you..." "What are you doing here?" "I'm all done! I've certainly 'seeded' enough women. But we completed the plan, and all the pre-arranged contacts are done." "How was it?" Susan asked. "A lot of travelling. In some ways I hope I never have to pee again," Dara said, smiling. She stepped back from Susan. "So let me look at you! Wow... You're sure growing up... In fact, you look like... me!" "Really? You said I would. I don't think my hips are the same..." "I can see a difference already. Your bone structure is much more feminine than it was when I saw you last." "You really think so?" "Sure. There's no way this frame could be mistaken for a man's. And..." Dara looked at Susan's chest. "You've really developed, I see. Your boobs are almost as big as..." "Yours?" Dara closed the door. "Let's see!" She pulled off the sweater she was wearing, and unclasped her bra, then walked to Susan and removed the sweatshirt she was wearing. Susan didn't have a bra. They stood next to each other in front of the mirror. The resemblance between the two women was obvious. Susan's new breasts were finally becoming more rounded, from their previous conical shape, and only differed in size from Dara's-- and, even then, not by much. "Wow... I never even realized... that they'd grow so quickly." Susan tentatively touched her own bosom. Her breasts felt heavy, and still tender, but not as tender as they had been. "You're already larger than some women get. In fact..." Dara went over to the bed and picked up the bra she had just removed. She stepped back over to Susan, and began to fasten Susan into her bra. Susan didn't protest vocally, but realized what was happening to her; and, again, it was a shock. She hadn't realized her own size, and even Karen hadn't mentioned it. Susan felt the straps tighten around her, and the cups of Dara's bra soon smoothed over her own skin. Dara stepped around in front and straightened the straps out. The bra wasn't as tight on Susan as it had been on Dara's body, which made sense, but she was there nonetheless. Susan's breasts stood proudly out from her body, and felt very warm. "How's that?" Dara asked. "What do _you_ think?" Susan asked in turn. "I'm impressed. Just another few weeks and we'll be entirely interchangeable, for the most part." Dara said. "But I think you're close enough now that we can do some shopping for you. This body of yours is too good to hide under a baggy sweatshirt." Susan looked sheepish. "Well... I didn't have anything else." "Why don't you go shower and clean up? Then, we're going out. Time to get you back to normal." "What?" "Well, it seems that our most important project, you, has been neglected. Now that I'm back for good, I want to start teaching you about being a woman. But I do have a big favor to ask..." "What's that?" "Well, back when we started this, I gave up my old apartment. No point paying the rent every month when I didn't live there. I've been living here, but I think it's time for both of us to get back into the real world." "But..." "You still have your own apartment, Susan. Could we be roommates for a while?" "I do?" "Sure. We've covered your rent for you. The official explanation given to your landlord is that, when you had to take care of your relative, you sublet your apartment, furnished, to a cousin. Yourself, of course. So you still have a place to live, other than here." "Wow... I... Sure. I'd love it. Where's Marcy?" "She won't be back for a while. She finished before I did, but she's off teaching seminars now. She still has her own apartment, but she lives in Maryland. We'll go visit her soon. I bet she won't believe her eyes when she sees you... Especially after I'm done with you, that is. We're going to have a lot of fun." The hardest part of the day was saying goodbye to Karen. Dara gave them a few minutes alone, but reminded Susan beforehand that they weren't going "far", and would be back to visit, of course. Karen was, as had often been the case, locked in her 'trance' with "Daniel", who had yet to pick a new girl's name for himself. Karen tore herself away when Susan came in. They hugged for a long while. "I'm so proud of you," Karen told Susan. "Stay close to Dara. She'll take good care of you. Then again, you might end up taking care of her, too." Susan was puzzled. "I'm just saying to be a little careful. Dara can get kind of wild. She's got the body for it, and so do you, now. Slow her down if you think you need to. So far that's what Daniel's needed from me; it's too easy for me to rush through those things that I've taken for granted all my life. But enjoy. I'll be here for you." "And I'll be here for you, Karen. Always." They kissed each other, and hugged for a long time. Susan had the unfamiliar, and somewhat arousing, sensation of her own bosom touching another woman's. "Oooh; are you wearing a bra?" "It's Dara's. Quite a bit too loose for me, though, or so I'm told. We're gonna go shopping." "Things _are_ moving quickly. Remember what I said." "Take care, Karen. And Daniel." "All my love, Susan." Dara whisked them out, and was now driving her own car. She already had a list of things to do, and it was fairly extensive. They had shopping to do, but Dara wanted to drop off her clothes at George's apartment first, so she'd have more space in the car. They stopped at George's, now Susan's, apartment. The mail had been stopped, and only a few flyers were in the mailbox. In an hour they had the refrigerator emptied and spoiled food thrown out. They agreed that, although Susan had a pull-out couch, that they'd share Susan's queen-size waterbed. Much of this trip was difficult for Susan; "his" old things still exactly where he had left them before he left for work one fateful morning. She could still imagine if that hadn't happened; continuing at work like normal, coming home every night to this same apartment. The two plants that George had were long dead, dried from months without water; Dara threw them out. They went into the bedroom together and looked in the closet, finding George's old clothes. Both of them stopped for a moment. "I guess we should donate these to charity," Dara said. Susan picked up an old pair of slacks, and held them up to her, comparing the difference in her body to the shape that once fit these clothes. She opened a nightstand drawer and found a picture of George and Karen, the only such picture in existence. The memories were becoming overwhelming. Susan sat on the bed, and Dara sat next to her. "I didn't know it would be this hard," Dara said. "I'm sorry." Tears were coming to Susan's eyes. "I should have known, of course. Susan, listen to me. This is still you. Your body's different, that's all. You're going to run into your past once in a while; but with my help, we'll have you feeling at home-- both in this place, and in that body, in no time. But if I were you, I'd want as few reminders around as possible. It'd be hard for a young woman like yourself to explain a closetful of men's clothes, you know. Especially to another man." Dara disappeared for a moment and returned with a bunch of plastic garbage bags. "You do this. Put your old stuff in there and we'll donate it to a good cause. I'll clean up elsewhere. Actually, I think that Karen and you did a good job-- it won't take us long to feminize this place." Susan was still sitting on the bed, plastic bags in hand. "Huh?" "Make it look like a woman's apartment instead of a man's." "Well, I suppose Karen knew what was going on, and helped me decorate. Really, it's just kind of neutral." Susan stood up and started checking the pockets of George's clothes, tossing them in the bag afterwards. She did so slowly and methodically, recalling the memories of her past with each article of clothing she took down from the closet. She decided that Dara was right; some of these memories were painful, and it made sense to be rid of them. She finished the closet and went to the dresser, putting George's underwear in a separate bag destined for the trash. She left behind none of the clothing; her closet looked strangely empty. She started wiping out the drawers just as Dara walked back in. "Ready to go?" Dara asked. "You can finish that stuff later. I made a list of the things we should do this afternoon. Tonight, we'll go out and have some fun." Dara turned and walked back out to the living room. Susan followed. The apartment had been cleaned and dusted, some things moved around, and such. Dara's suitcases were still near the door. "We have to take you to the salon, pick up your mail, go to the registry to get your real license picture, and then a little clothes shopping. We'll grab some lunch along the way; you must be hungry by now." Dara went to her suitcase, retrieved another bra, and put it on. "I can't really get away without this in these clothes." "You could have your own back..." Susan suggested. "No, you keep it. You'll need it when you're trying things on. Though we'll buy you some bras of your own, as well. Just follow what I do; I'll stay right with you in case there's any questions you can't answer. That's one of the best things about being the same sex!" They went to the salon first, where Dara had already made appointments for both women to have their hair styled, and a manicure done. Susan's nails were still short, and the manicurist admonished her to let them grow. It was the first time that Susan had ever worn nail polish. Susan's hair had already grown, however, and was relayered into a much more feminine, sexy cut than it had been last time; now kind of "wild", and wavy. Susan's sweatshirt now seemed very much out of place with the rest of her. They stopped for lunch, then picked up Susan's mail at the Post Office. More than half was addressed to George, but the license renewal form that Dara expected there was mailed to Susan. Her official records having changed, only a few credit cards and bank accounts needed "fixing". Susan got her new license quite easily, and Dara then took her out to her favorite clothing store, where they spent the rest of the afternoon. The summer fashions had been out for a while, but Dara deferred getting the more adventurous outfits until Susan had acquired the "basics"-- some jeans, all of which were unmistakably feminine, new underwear, several blouses, shorts, and dresses. This was the first time that Susan had worn many of these things; and even though she had little resistance towards using the women's dressing room, she was glad that Dara could help her. Her eighteen-year-old body looked hardly different from Dara's, even though Dara was really in her late twenties. "Now, you _are_ going to let me borrow these things, aren't you?" Dara asked Susan while they were in the dressing room. "After all, you can wear my things..." Susan nodded, "Of course." Dara produced yet more clothes for Susan to try on. "I think this'll be really perfect for you... If you don't mind. "What is it?" "Your first swimsuit." The familiar feeling returned, no longer quite as much shock as excitement, however. "A... bikini?" Dara nodded excitedly. "Here, let me help you..." "But, Dara, it's only March!" "You have a pool in your building, right? How do you plan to use it, skinny dip?" "I see. I'd never thought..." "You have more to cover up than you used to. You can't survive without a swimsuit. You'll need a few more if we plan on going to the beach this summer." The swimsuit was a bright blue, and had some kind of fishnet to it that Susan didn't understand. "What's this?" she asked. "It's for your legs... when you're not swimming." "Doesn't look like it does very much." "I have a feeling, with your body, that it will do _very_ much." Susan held the fishnet leggings up. They were indeed a separate piece. The images crossing Susan's mind distracted her completely; Dara's invitation to go to the beach that summer somehow brought entirely foreign feelings to her. Dara helped her try the suit on while Susan did little more than daydream: Herself and Dara, walking across the beach in the warm summer sun, while she was wearing a... bikini. Susan had been on the "other side" here; finding himself helplessly fascinated while at a rare trip to a beach, with gorgeous women walking in front of him wearing tantalizing outfits. It had made him feel jealous, since at the time he had no girlfriend of his own; he felt the power these women had over the men in the situation; "Look, but don't touch." Now she'd be one of those women. Dara broke her trance. "I'd also like to pick up a few exercise outfits for us. I'd like it if you'd be my partner at the health club. You won't have to try them on; I think I know your body pretty well now." Susan's attention snapped back into reality. There she was, staring back from the mirror in a two-piece swimsuit. Dara put the fishnet "pants" on her; the effect was complete. "Nobody will be able to resist you," Dara said. With a smile, she added, "Not even me. Come on, let's pay for this stuff and get home." Susan, again, had forgotten these other implications. In some ways, it felt painful; sure, she'd be on that beach with Dara, and certainly would have the attention of many men. At least now. Soon there would be fewer men left to admire her new body. And the concept of being attractive to other _women_ was just as strange. Her emotions hadn't had much of a chance to settle. ==================== Evolution / 13 ==================== Conversation continued on the way home from the clothing store. It was now late afternoon, nearly dinnertime. Susan and Dara stopped at the market to pick up some groceries; after all, Susan's refrigerator was, essentially, empty. They made this meal at home. "So, you feel up for going out tonight?" Dara asked. "Out? Tonight? Where?" "I don't know... There's a good jazz club over on the north side. Time to get you out into society-- and break in one of those outfits we just bought. Time to celebrate-- oh, everything." Susan swallowed. She realized exactly what Dara was up to: Dara wanted to start exposing Susan to a "normal" life again. Susan still had bad feelings about going "outside"-- every experience, even buying clothing this afternoon, or walking about in the market in this female body, was a new one, and as such felt a little uncomfortable. Dara's approach seemed to suggest that she had to jump right in to her new gender role. Susan nodded. "Okay." "Good. I think we'll have a lot of fun. I haven't been out since-- months before I first met you. It'll be so nice to be 'normal' again. But... you seem a little uncomfortable." Susan explained her thoughts. Dara smiled at Susan as they sat at the dinner table. "Don't worry. I'll be right there with you all along. Besides, I doubt you could get yourself into trouble even if you wanted to. It'll just be a fun evening out. I can introduce you to some of my friends." "Men?" "Relax! Yes, some are men. Nice guys, most of them. Does that bother you?" "No, I suppose not." "You're going to have a blast," said Dara. "And I'll stay right with you." They cleaned up after dinner and showered together. Dara advised: "If you have to pee, do it now. It's much more difficult later." Susan started to pee. "How come? I mean, it's not as easy as men have it, perhaps, but..." "Haven't you worn pantyhose before?" Dara asked. "No..." Susan finished peeing. "Well, you don't want to have to get into and out of them more than you have to. Especially when you haven't had much practice. There's no fly, and you couldn't use it now if there was one." They got out of the shower and dried off, and Susan soon learned what Dara meant; getting into pantyhose was far more difficult than she imagined. She had seen Karen do it several times, and thought it interesting how this one garment wrapped itself so smoothly around half of her body, but never considered how it felt; it was like a gentle squeeze everywhere, but made her feel a little more stiff when bending her knees. After finally getting them on, Dara showed Susan how she could put her new brassiere on by herself. "Of course, it's always more fun to have help taking this off," Dara noted. The outfit that Dara picked for Susan was simple, but seemed even more feminine than it did when Susan had first tried it on. She looked at herself in the mirror, and noticed how the dress seemed to accentuate the curves she had developed. She found her own body very attractive now; the kind of body that-- well, George would have liked. Dara's outfit was also a dress, but in a shiny black, and was far more provocative. Susan was impressed. "Wow!" "Thanks. I haven't had a chance to wear this in a long while, you know. Come on, let's get your hair and makeup done." Susan had already had some practice at this, but Dara gave her some additional pointers. Soon they were both in the car, on their way to the north side. "Okay, Susan, vocabulary lesson time. Chances are that-- you'll get hit on at least once tonight, and need to know a few things..." The concept of being "hit on" didn't strike Susan, at least quite yet. "Vocabulary?" "Well, the world has changed quite a bit-- and even though you've been kind of at the center of things, you've been isolated from the real world somewhat. After all, these are pretty significant changes that people are starting to understand, so it has much of it's own language." Susan listened. "For example, you know what a guy means if he wants to 'get into your pants', right?" "Sure. I'm not totally naive, you know." "I know. But, like I said, a lot of things have changed in this social scene. We have men out there who want to take us up on our offer for them to join us, we have some women who can do it and some who can't. Marcy said that this might turn out to be a problem, by the way..." "Really?" "I'm getting off the track. Vocabulary first, then I'll explain." Susan nodded. "Okay, vocabulary." "Okay. A 'new' woman is one like you or I-- one that's been exposed, or 'got wet'. A woman who's 'stayed dry', then, hasn't been exposed. So you might hear of some woman who wants to get 'wet', or any of the related slang-- it means that she's looking to get converted." "Peed on. What about men?" "Same stuff, but of course it's bad news for a man to get 'wet'. Once he's been 'splashed' by a 'new' woman, he stays 'wet'. Sometimes you'll hear about someone who's been 'skunked', or who's 'soggy'. Same thing. Telling a man to 'get wet' is a pretty nasty insult." Susan nodded. "Got it." "Of course, it won't always be easy, 'cause the vocabulary changes. Okay, next. To get 'reversed', of course, means to be pulled inside like Daniel was. Believe me, there's a lot of men out there who want to find someone to 'reverse' them. So, while 'get in your pants' means they just want to have sex with you, to 'move in' means they want to get reversed." Susan nodded again. "What I've been hearing for replies to that question-- if you're 'busy' or 'occupied', of course, you're like Karen is right now." "Already have someone inside?" "Yes. Of course not everyone tells the truth-- I've already heard a few women blow people off this way just because they weren't interested." "Is that what Marcy was talking about?" "Yes. The problem is, at least right now, that's there's more people interested in getting reversed then there are 'new' women willing to do it. I can understand that, I suppose. After all, it's just like being pregnant-- not something you'd do easily! The seminars do their best to link up potential candidates with women to 'reverse' them, but there's just not enough willing hosts yet. So, as usual, lots of men decide that persistence is the way to get what they want. They're often right, but it just turns a lot of women off in the process, lowering their 'odds' quite a bit. Right now the odds still aren't great to begin with-- there's not too many new women out there." "I didn't think it was supposed to happen that way. What's the best way for a man to get 'reversed', then?" "The ones who have spouses or steady girlfriends have it easier if their partner is 'wet'. We've really stressed the issue that these capabilities need to be shared, so if a woman's willing to get 'wet', she usually seems to accept an offer to reverse her boyfriend or lover. The problem is if she doesn't want to, or doesn't want to get wet in the first place, it causes trouble." "I can see that. Your future can be entirely at someone else's mercy." Dara agreed. "There's no way around it. After all, it's her body, and between 9 and 10 months of her life that go into the process-- and that's just until birth. We still don't have all the information-- after all, Karen will easily be the first to finish reversing someone, but we've been honest with the data we do have." "Is there some term for a new woman who used to be a man?" "I just told you there aren't any-- except yourself. So I doubt it." "God, with a shortage, I'm surprised that there aren't people 'selling' this service." Dara nodded. "I thought that, too, at first. But think about it. If you elect to get reversed, there's nothing stopping your 'host' from simply absorbing you entirely. Why just take someone's money when you can have everything? So, as you can see, you wouldn't want to be reversed by someone you can't trust. Even the RC-1 mentions these possibilities." "RC-1?" Susan asked. "That's the new certificate that you'll start to see soon. A Rebirth Consent certificate. Lets a man, or a woman, officially consent to be reversed, and keeps the government records quite tidy. There's an RC-2, of course, which is simply a Rebirth Certificate, kind of like a birth certificate but for someone that's been reversed. The catch is that you don't necessarily need to file an RC-2 for every RC-1." "For people who get absorbed instead of reversed," Susan concluded. "But doesn't someone need to consent to be absorbed?" "That's what the RC-1 does. Once you've signed it, you've put your life into your host's hands..." "Or between her legs, you might say." "Yes. We can't force women to make that choice ahead of time, before she's connected with her target. That's the whole point of the consent in the first place; you acknowledge that your host might not decide to rebirth you, and of course that something might go wrong along the way, like any pregnancy." "I never thought of it that way. I mean, if you're getting reversed, and your host is in a car crash, or something else happens..." "Exactly. Your life depends on hers. The whole certificate thing is kind of pointless, of course, because you can still get reversed without it-- how could anybody prevent it? The RC-1 and RC-2 just keep your identity records straight. It's going to take years for everything to straighten out, though. Credit cards, tax records... what a mess." Susan winced at the thought. "Oooh." "We're almost here. Last few things. If you 'fake' someone, it means telling them you're new, when you're not. Obviously neither of us can do that. But 'fakes' are fairly common." "Why would you want to?" Dara turned to Susan as they pulled into a parking lot. "If you had the prospect of getting assaulted in an alley, you certainly would want your attacker to fear that weapon between your legs. It's saved quite a few women already. The problem is then, of course, that you're an obvious choice for a host." "This is getting more complicated than I expected," said Susan. "One other thing. It's more common than you might think to have a woman asking to get reversed. The most likely case is a transsexual who wants to become female for real-- someone who's had a sex change operation but wants to be able to have children. It's also an option for women who can't have children for other reasons. And some people who are terminally depressed consider it a way out." "You make it sound like everyone can't wait to move in," Susan said. "I just can't believe that someone would come up to you and ask to climb into your pants that way. That's worse than asking for sex." "Much worse. But no, it doesn't happen that way. Only a few desperate souls would ever consider propositioning someone that way-- just like with sex. But you do hear of it, in gossip, in 'girl talk', and so on. Plus, it's only being fair for someone to admit that interest early on in any kind of a relationship-- after all, a man who wants to be reversed doesn't want to spend months getting to know some woman only to find out that she's 'dry', and she doesn't want to get her hopes up about having a male lover 'forever' if he's interested in getting changed. Last vocabulary terms for now: If someone does commit to getting reversed, they get 'unweaned' or 'hooked', and the both of them 'nurse' until the due date." "Makes sense," Susan said. "Good. I doubt we'll run into any of this tonight, but you should know the street talk just in case. I'm still learning it myself. Come on, let's go in." They got out of Dara's car. Dara walked close to Susan, anxious to get a few other points in before they went inside. "We won't take anybody home tonight," Dara said. "Unless, of course, you want to." Susan stopped Dara in her tracks. "Take someone home?" she said, incredulous. "God, Susan, it's not like it's murder or something." "You've taken someone home on the first night? To have sex?" Susan couldn't believe it. She had never had sex-- at least not as a woman, and Karen had been her only sexual partner previously. "There's nothing wrong with it, Susan! I know your exploration so far has been pretty limited-- for good reason, of course. But you don't have to live your life that way. You can be as experienced as you want to, now. It was only as a man that we had to be careful with you." "No, that's not it at all. But-- on the first night?" Dara seemed very stern, and had to remember to control her voice. "Rarely, but... It can be kind of a kick, you know. You also have to be kind of careful..." "I'll say," said Susan. "Damn it, Susan, you have no experience in the matter yet. How can you tell me about taking men home, or having sex with them? You haven't had one yet. First of all, there haven't been any serious venereal diseases for years..." "One good outcome of the genetic modification stuff; hunter vaccines," Susan said. "Yes. And I always take precautions against pregnancy. The only worry is that--" "He could hurt you," Susan said. "Yes. That was the only thing stupid about it. And now, nobody would try anything. So there's nothing to worry about." Dara motioned towards her own crotch, which of course carried a most devastating weapon to any men who might run befoul of it. "But you didn't have that protection back then," Susan argued. "This *was* before you got wet, wasn't it?" "Yes. I've only had sex with one man since then, and it was someone I knew. And the time you're talking about was probably a mistake, I admit. But nothing bad came of it. Most people are basically good, Susan. You need to have some trust once in a while. And I must admit, it can be thrilling to face the unknown." "To me, everything is unknown," Susan frowned. "At least it seems that way." "We're about to change that. I have a few regular friends who hang out here. I'll introduce you." The evening went very quickly, it seemed. Indeed, two men recognized Dara when she first stepped into the club; it was only minutes before they were at the bar with Dara and Susan, having bought drinks for the two women. "I've never seen you here before," one of the men said. "Dara, it's amazing-- you two look so similar. I never thought there'd be _two_ such beautiful women on the same planet." Susan, who had a mental protective barrier up already, somehow allowed the compliment to sneak through. She knew this kind of flattery, having been on the other end of it, but couldn't resist smiling. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Mark." "Susan," came the reply, along with Susan's outstretched hand. It felt strange-- even already she was obeying a different social custom. Gentlemen would never offer to shake a woman's hand-- that had to be her perogative. Mark took her hand-- the first time a man had ever touched her since she herself got 'wet'. It surprised her greatly; the strength he had-- strength that she used to have, seemingly a long time ago-- the control, the intensity. Emotions that seemed only barely familiar began to surface. "I'm Steven," the other man said. "Dara, this person could be your... sister. Are you related?" Dara smiled. "You could say that, I suppose." Susan tightened her jaw, fearful of what might become of Dara's slipup. The implication was fairly strong, Susan thought. But neither Steven nor Mark decided to leap onto Dara's response, thank goodness. "Not directly. But we've been good friends for a while," Dara finally said. Time passed quickly. Susan found it quite easy to stay involved, and again managed to forget how 'new' this all was. She merely soaked everything in; the attraction that these men felt towards both of them, and to some extent an attraction-- albeit a mild one-- that Susan felt in return. She seemed enamored of the attention more than anything else-- quick glances around the room often caught other men looking at her. She had been prepared for self-consciousness and awkwardness, but she was feeling quite flattered. The better she felt, the more she seemed to radiate her new femininity. Best of all, it wasn't a temporary experience she'd have to give up. Steven reached for a pocket and pulled out a vibrating pager. He looked at it, and a disappointed look crossed his face. "Sorry, ladies, looks like I can't stay after all. I was hoping I wouldn't have to go in tonight. If you'd excuse me..." "I'm sorry, Steven," Susan found herself saying. "I've enjoyed your company." It came to her that she really meant that. Perhaps it wasn't so hard to trust people after all. Steven took Susan's hand, and gently kissed it; Susan felt herself blush a moment later. Steven shook Dara's hand, and left. The chill didn't run down Susan's spine until a moment later, as she realized that another first had happened. Dara and Mark seemed to be getting more playful with each other. Obviously they knew each other well, and she wasn't holding anything back; she was letting him fall into her grasp. Mark, on the other hand, also seemed very much in control. He turned to Susan, who had been eyeing the crowd once again, and this time discovered that several men no longer seemed afraid to make eye contact, now that she was no longer "paired" in even numbers. Mark was a perfect gentleman and pulled Susan back into conversation, making it clear that he had interest in her as well. Somehow this comforted Susan, who had been starting to worry that she'd soon have other men-- perhaps ones even Dara didn't know-- seeking her attention, and she herself didn't think she'd be ready for that. Mark appeared to understand this, and sat between the two women at the small table that had finally opened up. He leaned over to Susan and held her hand for a moment; Susan didn't catch that this narrowly averted her being confronted by a strange man who had been sidling up her way, obviously anxious to introduce himself. Shortly after sitting down, Dara asked Mark and Karen if they'd like to leave. "Mark, would you like to come with Susan and I and pick up an ice cream or something? It's getting a little... hot in here, I think." Mark nodded. "Sounds great. Or, perhaps, I could interest two lovely ladies in a slightly more relaxing evening. Susan?" Susan looked at Dara, who was wide-eyed grinning at Mark's comment, and nodded vigorously. "Ummm... sure," Susan replied. Dara smiled. "Why not stop back at our place... though of course I haven't really unpacked yet." Mark was becoming more excited. "Then why not come visit with me? I'm practically around the corner. That's why I come here so often..." Dara smiled coyly. "This could be fun..." Mark turned to Susan. "I hope so!" ==================== Evolution / 14 ==================== The three stood up to leave. Dara whispered to the other two: "I sure wish I could see the look on people's faces when you leave here with _both_ of us, Mark." "Me too. You two could break a lot of hearts, you know." Susan couldn't believe it, but found herself in Mark's home a few minutes later. The three of them sat at Mark's coffee table, in front of a nice, warm fire in Mark's impressive fireplace. Apparently his career as oral surgeon had done him well. They had another drink and talked for another half-hour before Mark excused himself to use the bathroom. Dara smiled at Susan. "Nice, isn't it? Sorry, I would have offered to join you in the Ladies' room at the club, but it would have been kind of obvious that we were going there to talk, and it would have been inconsiderate to leave Mark there alone." "No problem. You're right, this has been a fun evening." "So, want to stay? We don't have to if you don't want to." Susan wasn't as shocked as she might have expected herself to be. "You mean... overnight? Sleep with him?" "Of course. It's up to you-- we can still bow out, but I think you'll have a lot of fun. He'll show you some things about your body that are just... thrilling," Dara shuddered. "He really knows how to make someone feel like a woman, and I've always wanted to indulge him in this two-on-one fantasy most men have. I also think it's a little less threatening for you that way." "It would be my _first_ time, Dara," Susan protested. "And I only met him tonight." "Susan, you've had sex before, even if... Never mind." "What?" Susan asked. Sounds from the bathroom indicated that Mark was nearly ready to return. "You don't have to have _sex_ with him if you don't want to. I can keep him more than busy by myself, if it comes to it. But you do have to have your _first_ time eventually, and it should be with people you trust. I can give Mark very good references there. Besides, there's all sorts of exciting things other than... 'normal' intercourse, if that's what you're worried about." Susan nodded. A worried look came to Dara's face. "Susan, it's okay... I can understand if you don't trust me..." Susan cut her off immediately. "Dara, of _course_ I trust you. I'd trust you with anything. You gave me the life I have now." "Okay. We can go home..." "No. You're right. Let's stay. You've been right there with me all along. I'd do anything with you." "Anything?" Dara sneered. "Good. Because tomorrow night I may even have a better idea-- just you and me. Tomorrow. Didn't want to make your first night in bed with a man disappointing by comparison, you know." "Sounds like something else you're experienced with," Susan noted. Dara didn't get to answer, as Mark was returning. Instead, she whispered: "Just watch what I do, and don't be afraid to touch anything." Susan couldn't believe that she was getting sex advice from another woman. It was exciting her. Something seemed to be happening between her legs; it was already happening to Dara, and the two women were slowly filling Mark's living room with their pheromones. It didn't take long for Mark to get the idea. Susan watched carefully, and knew from experience the signs of arousal in Mark. Suddenly she felt a great advantage; she could almost sense what Mark must have been feeling, that certain fogginess, anticipation-- that was now affecting her as well. Mark went after the "new" girl first, coming up behind Susan and wrapping his arms around her abdomen. It felt delicious to both of them. As Dara watched approvingly, Mark slid his arms up, and as he felt no resistance from Susan, finally slid up to her breasts. Susan couldn't have waited for the moment any longer, and sighed, head tilted back against Mark, eyes closed. He started to massage Susan's breasts right through all her clothing. Susan started to melt away; in moments she found herself becoming very wet between the legs. She loved the feeling, but couldn't concentrate on any one thing. Dara came up behind Mark and began to undress him, removing his belt and unzipping his pants, as Mark continued to amuse Susan. Dara then helped Mark undress Susan, as Susan was in no state to do it herself. Mark finally released her and removed the rest of his clothes, and then Dara stripped erotically in front of both of them. Dara really put on a good show; revealing herself slowly and with great flourish; nearly knocking Mark over and obviously impressing Susan, as well as continuing to excite her. The sensations were somewhat strange to Susan with all this; she felt more female than she ever had, and somehow knew how to show it. Her movements were soft and fluid, and she felt at the same time great power over Mark, but quite powerless from herself. She loved the fact that all the feminine movements, behaviors, sounds, and even her voice were appreciated; a sigh or moan that seemed so natural to her would have been inappropriate for a man, but now fit her perfectly. She had the advantage now of not only her instinct, but of knowing what a woman looked like and did through the various stages of intercourse, and from a different point of view. The three were tumbling onto Mark's queen-sized bed only minutes later. Soon both women had Mark on his back, determined to keep him there and give him the time of his life. He finally interrupted the action for a moment. "You know I've always fantasized about this. Thank you both for making it come true. I can't believe it... You're both so..." Dara touched him between the legs before he could finish his sentence. She sat on her knees to one side of him, as he lay on his back, and slowly stroked his penis. Mark's eyes were closed, and Susan watched Dara's technique. "I can't believe it either," Susan whispered in a voice Mark wouldn't hear. "I've always wanted to do this myself-- one man with two women-- but I never expected to be one of the two women." Dara smiled. "Too bad Steven had to go. One nice thing about being female is that..." "You've had two men inside you at once?" Susan asked, her voice raised a bit. "Shhhh! Of course I have. Hard on the men sometimes, but a great experience at least once. Speaking of hard, take over here for me..." Susan complied, stroking Mark gently. Another first. Dara leaned over Mark's head, slowly guiding one of her warm, round breasts for Mark's mouth. Mark, who hadn't expected it, was moaning, and soon sucking quite intently. Susan was fascinated by Dara's reaction even more-- she seemed to enjoy it at least as much as he did-- her head back, eyes closed, doing all she could to maintain her position above him. Susan looked down at her own, unattended breasts, furtively touching one, trying to catch a piece of what Dara must have been feeling. If only there was another mouth, she thought. Susan started using her other hand to gently massage Mark's thighs, and started to probe down between his legs. She felt him react, his excitement level jumping another notch. This was thrilling to Susan-- again, she had used her abilities correctly, and loved the fact that Mark was falling under the spell that the two women were casting on him. Susan looked up and saw Dara switch to the other breast, centering it on Mark's mouth and compressing it down agaist his face. Mark moved his head around, again sending Dara into ecstasy. Dara took one leg and rubbed it against Mark's side. Susan put one question away for later-- shouldn't Dara be worried about connecting to Mark light that? What were the chances of accidentally unweaning him? Susan found Mark's anus and touched it. His legs tightened, his body tensed. With one finger she rubbed the most sensitive spot on his penis, and felt him start fighting for even more stimulation, trying for release. These efforts did not go unnoticed by Dara, who separated himself from Mark, and motioned Susan to stop. "Come up here, Dara whispered. Susan climbed over Mark's leg and sat on her own at Mark's side, across from Dara. Susan felt anxious as Mark caught his breath; perhaps her lonely breasts would get some attention after all. Dara stretched across Mark and reached between Susan's legs. Susan, surprised, sat up a bit more. Dara's finger vanished deep into Susan's vagina, which was so wet it offered little resistance. The finger came out of Susan glistening wet. Mark's eyes were open now, though the sight of Dara's finger inside Susan-- something that he himself never thought he'd see up close-- was keeping him paralyzed. Dara held up her finger, and erotically licked it with just her tonguetip. "Watch," she said to Susan, loud enough for Mark to hear. She reached down to Mark's face, and slowly drew her finger directly under Mark's nose. At the next breath, Mark moaned and began to shudder. Susan's jaw dropped as she watched Mark become overwhelmed. "Wow!" Dara chuckled. "Never underestimate the power of your own pussy, Susan." Susan thought of it for a moment; and flashed back to the sight of Daniel, lying in Susan's puddle on the storage room floor, and the power she had felt between her own legs then. That weapon was still there, and just as effective as ever-- but this other ability-- one that all women had, wet or not-- suddenly seemed equally impressive. She looked at Mark, still under the grip of Susan's own scent-- nearly at the edge of orgasm even though neither woman was touching him-- and felt immensely proud of her own body... and thankful to Dara for being there to teach her about it. Dara reached between her own legs, and a moment later a glistening finger rubbed itself under Susan's nose. The effect was much the same. Dara's scent, which was of course amazingly similar to Susan's own, took effect in seconds. Suddenly Susan felt very empty inside, between her legs. She had never been so aroused before. "I think it's time," Dara announced. "At least _I_ can't wait much longer." She reached into Mark's nightstand drawer, and in moments had found and installed a condom on Mark's penis. He still couldn't move, but watched in fascination. Susan opened her eyes, and Dara gestured towards two places-- Mark's erect, hot penis-- and his face. "Your choice, Susan." "Oh, ah, whatever." "Do it for real." Dara motioned towards Mark's genitals. "You need more practice than I do," she smiled. Susan couldn't believe she was doing it, but moved down and soon found herself squatting over Mark's penis. It was just inches away from her own vagina; she couldn't believe that it was so close, and things were happening so fast. Dara took up her position over Mark's head, facing Susan, and looked down at Mark before seating herself. "You know, Mark..." Mark tore his eyes away from Dara's approaching pussy to look into Dara's eyes instead. "My friend Susan here is a virgin," Dara announced. "Really?" "Yes. I wanted to be there for her first time." "I'm honored. I'll be gentle with you... Let me know if..." Mark was cut off as Dara descended upon him. Dara sat still however, as her legs tightened against Mark's head, wanting so much to see Susan's first penetration before she lost control of herself. "You have to be careful up here," Dara said, trying to lighten the moment. "Don't want to suffocate anybody. Well, Susan, I really am glad to be here for this-- really a history-making moment. But then, you're used to those." "Thanks, Dara. You really are a good friend. So now I just..." Susan started to sit down, but missed her own opening, just brushing Mark away with her barely-moist outer lips. Mark responded a bit from between Dara's legs, probably in some kind of pain. "Sorry," Susan said, even though Mark wouldn't be able to hear. "Careful," Dara advised. "Try again. You might have to guide him in. Here..." Dara leaned forward and held the base of Mark's penis. "Find your own opening, and aim..." Susan started to lower herself again. One last-moment adjustment by Dara, and a slight alignment by Susan, and Mark's penis found it's way to the edge of Susan's vagina. Susan shuddered at the touch. "Well, here goes..." Susan slowly sat down, and felt the sensation of her body gently widening, squeezing, and slowly accepting Mark into it. It was incredible; barely an inch inside and Susan was experiencing feelings she couldn't have imagined before. Mark restrained himself, and Susan pressed herself down, down, as she took him in deeper, and deeper. Finally his entire penis was gone; it existed only within Susan's body. "How does that feel?" Dara asked. "Wow..." was all that Susan could manage. "Okay then, hang on tight; here we go!" Dara said. Her PC muscles began to contract against Mark; he reacted by probing her with his tongue. In seconds his entire body was involved; his legs pressing strongly to thrust into Susan, his head becoming drenched in Dara's moisture. He was strong enough to lift Susan well off the bed as his pelvic motions became involuntary. Dara managed one final comment before succumbing to her own passions: "Move your hips... It'll help you get off..." Susan did her best to comply, but ended up not needing much help. Dara reached orgasm first, opening her eyes wide as she exploded. Mark and Susan came together-- his final thrust, and the sudden sensation of his penis expanding to deliver its contents, was fortunately enough to push Susan over the edge. The shock shot up from her pussy through her back to her head, and down her legs to her toes-- her vagina contracting violently and uncontrollably, squeezing the liquid from Mark's body. Wave after wave of pleasure crossed her. Mark collapsed back down but Susan's orgasm continued on, as she gyrated her hips slightly to increase the sensation at her clitoris. Another explosion made her scream out loud-- something else she had never done before; she felt as if she was about to crush her "visitor", sealed to him, one with him. In another couple of seconds, it was over. She was exhausted, and sweating. Dara leaned forward and kissed Susan on the lips, then clenched her as an exhausted boxer would. "Congratulations," Dara whispered. "Welcome to womanhood." "I thought that was when you had your first period," Susan answered, panting. "That doesn't really matter. I don't know if you'll have a period anytime soon-- after all, ovulation is voluntary for us." Mark seemed interested in the conversation. "Nothing exciting, Mark," Dara offered as she lifted her pelvis away from him, allowing him to hear once again. "Just welcoming Susan to womanhood, that's all." "Thanks for taking me there, Mark. You were wonderful." Susan grabbed the condom at the base of Mark's penis, and slowly lifted her body from him. His penis, now substantially smaller, fell from her body. She was greatly amused by the sight of the filled condom-- fluid that she had drawn from his body. Mark was still quite the gentleman. "Very much _my_ privilege, Susan. I'm thankful to be involved." The two women lay at Mark's sides, and soon all three were asleep. ==================== Evolution / 15 ==================== Morning came too quickly for Dara and Susan. Mark, unfortunately, had to return to work, and the two women left with him. Dara drove Susan back to their apartment, where they had breakfast before cleaning up. "You still need to unpack," Susan said. "I know. We both have a lot to do. We should take it easy tonight." "I have a question for you," Susan announced, as if there had been any dearth of such questions. "Shoot." "You put your nipples in Mark's mouth last night. How come you're not worried about accidentally nursing him?" "I thought we explained that. You can't start up all at once, Susan." Dara pressed one of Susan's breasts. "Before the change, it takes a pregnancy to turn these things on-- or a dose of a certain kind of hormone. Even now, you can't just start lactating on the spur of the moment. It takes days to get started. One night wouldn't be enough even if all he did was suck on me." "But, if it started, wouldn't it be kinda..." "You can feel it. Karen said she could feel it when she was about to start nursing Daniel. You'd know to stop in time. Plus, it takes more than just one sip, you know." The phone rang. Susan answered it. It was Marcy! Dara grabbed the phone in the kitchen, so she could share in the exciting news that everyone seemed to have at the tips of their tongues. Dara couldn't wait to mention that they had just spent the night with a man. "But how are things?" "Lots going on here," Marcy reported. "Helping out with this seminar has really been fun, but there's been so many interesting stories that I've been involved in... but first-- Susan-- you have to tell me! Your first time!" "Yeah..." Susan purred. "So, how was it? Who were you with?" "Mark," Dara answered. "Mark, huh? You could do a lot worse." "But tonight she's mine," Dara added, with a smile at Susan. Susan smiled back. "It was..." Marcy interrupted, in her excitement. "How different is it? The world has to know! How did it feel?" Susan pondered a moment. "It's funny... Kind of hard to relate it... from what I remember..." "You have to remember!" Marcy protested. "You're the only one who can tell us how different it is to have sex as a man! Which is better?" "Now you know what it feels like to _us_," Dara added. "Can you put your old experiences with Karen in those terms?" Susan was uncomfortable at the thought of discussing "George's" sexual exploits with Karen-- after all, those were private moments, it seemed. But their curiosity was justified, of course. "The biggest difference-- had to be temperature." "Temperature?" Marcy asked, incredulous. "Yes. As a man, when you're outside your partner's body, you're just-- cold. There's a definite sense of warmth when you reach... penetration." Both Marcy and Dara seemed fascinated. "I didn't feel anything like that last night. I felt empty, not cold. And certain feelings-- sensations not directly involved-- are very different. Mechanically different, you might say, to have someone else-- inside you. It was much more natural than I expected it to feel, and my instincts seem a bit different too. The erotic sensations-- the touch of your own parts on someone else's-- the drive for that stimulation..." Marcy and Dara remained fascinated... "...was very much the same. The same approach towards orgasm, the same muscle contractions, though they seem to last much longer somehow..." Marcy interrupted again. "But how does it feel to be able to have multiple orgasms? Isn't that better than it was when you were male?" "I can't say," Susan answered. "I only had one. I was exhausted. Besides, you know, men _can_ have more than one orgasm. I've done that with Karen." "But how, Susan?" Dara asked. "That felt very much the same as last night. You just need to be a little persistent. Even as a girl I felt my... arousal disappear right after I reached orgasm. That's what the release is all about, isn't it? But I suppose there are a few advantages-- as a man, if I lost that excitement long enough, I'd lose my erection, and that would make it more difficult to get aroused again. Now I don't have to worry about that. And I haven't felt that funny feeling that really makes you want to stop and hold still... I suppose women don't ever get that..." "Sure we do," said Dara. "Sometimes after one really big orgasm, or several smaller ones. It's like I get too sensitive, suddenly." "Really?" came Marcy's voice over the phone. "Sure, Marcy. Haven't you ever just wanted your lover to stop? Some sensation that's not... pain, but somehow uncomfortable?" "I guess I have," Marcy answered. "That's it, then," said Susan. "I've felt that too. Just not last night. So I guess it really isn't different. Women can just take advantage of the fact they they can have sex when they're not aroused..." "That's not always an advantage, Susan. That's why men hardly ever get raped, you know," Marcy answered. Dara changed the subject. "So, Marcy, how are things going along those lines? Lots of customers?" "We're still having trouble matching everyone up, and a lot of people are interested, but want to wait to see how the first few 'cases' turn out, but I've met now with a number of couples who are already reversing, and many more that are closing in on their 'due date'. That's got to be the best part of what I'm doing-- talking to people and hearing their stories. I've even been for several of the big events. We even have our RC forms in now." "Really?" Dara asked. "So you've been there in person? How'd you manage that?" "It's funny... After the seminars, people come up to me. Many end up as good friends, especially after they really calm down and begin to understand what's going on. But I could have never imagined some of the situations..." Marcy continued on to explain one such series of events. A woman, perhaps 19 years old, had been friends and lovers with man her age even before they started to go to the same college. She lived in a room on campus; he was a commuter, but sometimes stayed with her. Marcy had found the situation unusual, because most of the time people who came to this particular seminar brought their prospective targets with them, so she took the woman aside after the meeting, and talked with her. This teenager was very excited about what was happening, and really wanted to be a part of it by helping to convert her boyfriend. Marcy recommended bringing him along, and when she finally did, found that this 19-year-old man, Derek, was very willing to be reversed-- excited about it, even. But he lived at home, and his mother, who had always pegged her son's girlfriend as even more of a feminist than she really was, started to get concerned about this "reversing" business as it might affect her son. It didn't take her long to determine that his girlfriend Donna was becoming "dangerous"-- "coercing", as the boyfriend's mother saw it, "with her disgusting, radical mind", her son into getting reversed. "Your father was so proud to have a boy," she'd tell him. "And so was I. Nine months I slaved to bring you into this world-- nineteen years raising you to be the fine young MAN you are-- and you're letting yourself be so bewildered-- seduced-- by this young tramp you call a girlfriend-- that you'd... you'd... Never mind, just because you don't care about me... But think of your poor father! All those hours out in the front lawn teaching you how to play ball..." He protested. "But mom! I'll _still_ be able to play ball! You don't understand!" His father was no help. He was brief, though, and to the point. "I didn't raise you to be a pussy." (His wife bristled only slightly at the comment.) "There's plenty of normal girls out there. You find one and leave this nutcake of yours to someone else. Or you don't come back." Marcy saw at her first private consult with this couple that he really was torn; he wanted what his girlfriend offered, and loved her very much; but his parents' words had hurt him tremendously. "They just don't see me for who I am," he told Marcy. "It's true," Marcy answered. "They need to see you for what's on the inside. That won't change." "I wouldn't let it," the girl offered. "I love you too much." Marcy continued. "Some people just cling to these traditional values for no reason. They see what's happening as a threat, and can't believe that you'd want to be a part of it. But it seems to me that you do want to be a part of it." "Very much," he said. "If everyone's going to be a girl... like you, I want to come along. What you said to us, Marcy, about not being left behind, really hit me very hard. I want to join you all." "You'll still be my friend and lover," Donna said. "We can have sex and everything. Even children, someday." "That's always one of the things I've wanted, even before you gave this to us, Marcy. To know what it's like to bear children." "Don't give me all that credit," Marcy answered. "But I agree. I've never had children, but I really look forward to it someday and hope that you can share that experience yourself. Or, perhaps you can reverse someone yourself." (Marcy always tried to get that "plug" in somehow). "See?" the girl said. "Your own children. And we'll still be able to be lovers." "Possibly," said Marcy. "Though there will be a little catching-up to do, age-wise, though. Years before he reaches puberty, at least. And, of course, once you do this, you're related to each other-- genetically." "I'm just as convinced as ever," he said. "Oh, my love, I'm so glad..." Marcy sat back. "It seems like you've already made up your mind." "She's right. I don't care what my parents think." "I don't believe that, Derek," Marcy said. "You do care. But you can't please everybody, and sometimes you need to do things for yourself. Or for both of you." They kissed. "Thanks, Marcy," he said. "I know my parents will understand eventually." "Eventually" was to be a long time away, however, as Derek's parents saw him slipping under the "influence" of his "evil", feminist girlfriend. Although he had decided not to confront them with his decision, he found it hard to contain his excitement of ultimately becoming a woman, and to be surrounded by his own girlfriend, and as his parents questioned him about it, he also refused to lie and, thus, gave his own position away. This time, when they threatened to have him "not come back", he took them up on it, moving in with Donna. Only his father, who was so stubborn that he wished merely to "forget" having had a son, prevented, in his argumentative way, the initial attempts by his wife to intercede in what she knew would happen. They had driven their own son away, into his girlfriend's arms. Donna had prepared for the moment, and had been periodically massaging her own breasts, as recommended by the seminar which Marcy had taught, for the previous couple of days. When Derek called, upset after his last battle with his parents, Donna told him he could stay with her. "I want to get started right away," Derek said. "Whatever you want. I'll always be here for you; I'll see you when you get here. Drive safe." When Derek arrived, he apologized for failing to bring his supply of clothes. "It doesn't really matter, Derek. If we go through with this, you won't be needing them for long." Donna jumped onto her bed, playfully, and put her legs up in the air. She took one hand to her crotch. "Just think, Derek... You'll be in here... with me. I'll take such good care of you." Just as Derek started to get aroused, Donna got serious. They talked for two hours, discussing what it would mean for Derek, and whether or not he was making the right choice. With the talk concluded, Donna bared her chest. "This is it, then." Derek showed only a moment of hesitation before gingerly placing his lips upon Donna's left nipple. She leaned back, taking him with her, and held him tightly. Several anxious minutes passed before she felt her milk began to flow; she nursed him slowly and continuously into the night. The next day, Donna changed her phone number, the only means by which Derek's parents might be likely to track or harass her. She called Marcy to tell her that she and Derek had finally gotten "started", and gave her the new phone number in strict confidence. Marcy offered to help them with whatever she could. Derek's "due date" was estimated at about 11 weeks; it varied with the frequency of these "feedings", and the initial weight of the "target". Derek remained in Donna's room. Donna's bosom expanded quickly, and with his first trip to the bathroom, Derek's weight loss began. Donna was frustrated that she had to buy a new bra, having outgrown her regular ones, but amused him when she showed it to him-- it was a nursing bra. Since she fed him between classes-- every few hours-- it actually turned out to be convenient to not have to remove it. Long hours alone in Donna's room sometimes left Derek bored, even though she left him things to read. Some of them were textbooks for classes that she would be taking next semester; both were amused at the thought that she could simply "absorb" this knowledge from Derek when the time came. Donna had elicited the confidence and help of several of her girlfriends. Besides keeping what was happening quiet, they would let Donna know if anyone-- particularly Derek's parents-- came looking either of them. Some early rumors had surfaced of research into re-weaning people who were 'nursing' in this way; a "treatment" which promised to "deprogram afflicted individuals", much as a drug rehab program would. Initial results appeared somewhat successful in alleviating this "dependency" in people who had gotten only slight exposure, though long-term results were unknown. It also seemed to be physically painful and emotionally devastating to the patient. Ten weeks passed without a 'peep' from Derek's parents, however. The excitement was increasing as the 'due date' approached, and with him so far 'gone', it was fairly evident that nothing could stop Donna now. She could feel her own body changing, preparing itself for him. Her enthusiasm for what was happening was matched only by Derek's; at night, she'd sometimes hold him between her legs. He'd touch her, as sensually as ever; and was amazed at how big she seemed to him. He could easily slide his whole arm into her now; her scent was all around him; the experience was purely sexual. He imagined himself climbing between those legs, one day soon-- and with what they already knew about the connection that would form between them, what they would be able to explore of each other once he was inside of her. Donna made an observation that she later relayed to Marcy; sexual arousal seemed to make her "hungry" now. Dara interrupted the story. "It wasn't that way with Karen, Marcy. I wonder why?" Marcy thought for a moment. "Karen was angry with Daniel back then. I bet she never really had occasion to become... aroused near him, right up to the very end. But wait until you hear..." Susan had a strange feeling between her legs; strange in that it had happened only once-- last night. The story was exciting her; again, the reaction of her female body surprised her. "Well, what happened? Sorry to interrupt," Dara said. Marcy continued her story. Two days before Donna's "due date", she got a worrisome visit from one of her friends. Her friend had been at the main office when a woman called the switchboard to get a room number for Donna. The woman knew Donna's last name. The switchboard refused that request, stating standard security policies, but verified that Donna was a student and offered to deliver a message; the caller declined and hung up. "My God, she knows I live here," Donna said, slumping down on her bed. "You think it was Derek's mother?" "Of course. I have no idea how she found my last name; but now she knows I'm here. She's probably on her way over." "But what can she do now? With Derek... like he is, it's not like there's anything she can do." Marcy stopped storytelling again, to explain some details. "All those laws that women managed to get past the legislature in recent years gave us control over our own reproductive systems. The courts already determined that this gives us 'possession', if you will, of our own babies." "I know," said Dara. "So?" "The letter of the law, as well as current interpretation, gives you full 'custody', in the legal sense, of anyone who inhabits your womb." Dara made a comment to Susan. "That was a long, hard, battle, Susan. But now it's paid off." Susan answered: "I know. I wasn't female, but I was there when that was going on. I actually felt good when it finally passed. I did think the specific wording strange, though-- 'inhabitant', not 'child' or 'offspring'." Marcy answered. "And now you know why. Well, actually, it was more fortuitous than intentional; the wording of that amendment was designed to protect a woman's rights in the case of surrogate motherhood, in-vitro fertilization, and so on. It just happened to cover this new event as well." "So what's the catch?" Susan asked. "The 'baby' must be inside your womb, or have come from that womb, in order for the protection to apply. No matter how close the due date is, the parents can petition to have the 'target' declared incompetent, despite the fact that he or she might have reached the age of consent, and taken away..." "For deprogramming?" "Yes. It's so cruel." Susan seemed puzzled. "I thought that's what the RC-1 was for? Consent to enter someone else's custody?" "Yes. We want to generalize it for everyone-- homosexual couples, for example, who want to be in each other's care despite archaic laws about it. The problem is that not all the states or local jurisdictions honor it yet-- despite the federal legislation." "Sounds like that should be taken to court, doesn't it?" Susan asked. "Yes, we're planning on it," Marcy answered. "But that's no good to the poor man who has to go through a treacherous re-weaning process. I've only know of two cases where it's ever been done, but the results seem disastrous-- even for people that were nursing only a week or two. Your body's just not designed to go halfway through the reversing process. Even the host is affected-- her hormones take quite a while to restabilize. We're trying to put a stop to it, but as long as the hospitals keep agreeing to do it..." "If only the hospitals were run by women..." Susan sighed. "They will be, Susan." Marcy answered. "So go on... What happened to Derek?" Dara asked. "She called me, and told me what was happening," Marcy continued. "I figured that I'd be safe from kidnapping charges. Once he was inside, he'd be safe from anything that Derek's parents might do. But I didn't want her to wait for me-- I needed her to get out of there right now. One of her friends drove them here. That was a mistake." When Donna and Derek arrived at the facility that Marcy was staying at, they explained how they had narrowly gotten away-- Derek's parents were approaching the dormitory on foot as they left it by car. When Donna's friend returned to school, however, the police were there, and under a court order and threat of "obstruction of justice" charges, the friend was interrogated and revealed where she had taken Donna and Derek. Marcy had one of the group's gynecologists examine Donna almost right away, and got encouraging news; Donna was already starting to dilate. She hadn't nursed Derek for nearly a day, and he made no claims of hunger or thirst, as was the pattern. "Did you hear that? Just hours to go now!" Donna told Derek. They hugged in excitement. Donna started to describe what she was feeling inside, and stopped herself. When Derek complained that he wanted to hear it, she told him: "Just wait. In a few hours I'll share those feelings with you, my love. That's all better than words can do, no?" The next examination indicated she had about an hour left before the labor mechanism kicked into high gear, and the faint contractions Donna had been feeling became the powerful ones needed to pull Derek's tiny body into her. She and Derek lay on one of the beds, waiting for that moment to arrive. Someone came to the door. "They're here!" the woman shouted in panic. "Downstairs with a court warrant!" Marcy tried to keep everyone calm. "They can't do this now. These two are two far along for a 'warrant' to stop! What's going on?" "Janice is trying to stall them," the woman said. "How much longer?" "Nearly an hour. Are you stalling them by verifying the warrant?" Marcy answered. "Already doing that. But I don't think we can hold them that long," the woman at the door said. The doctor examined Donna again. "If only you were a little further along... more relaxed..." Derek sat up. "I know what to do," he said. -- @>---`---< >---'---<@ @> Karen Mitchell <@ @> LabRat@pobox.com <@ @>---`---< >---'---<@ From srcc!news!srcc.msu.su!news-service Mon Mar 03 20:46:19 1997 Received: by fudn.msk.ru (UUPC/@ v6.14g, 06Jun95) with UUCP id AA02638; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 20:46:19 +0300 (MSK) Received: by gamma.srcc.msu.su; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 14:15:35 +0300 Received: (from root@localhost) by news.gamma.ru (8.7.6/8.7.3) id OAA23383 for firstname.lastname@example.org; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 14:13:55 +0300 (MSK) To: email@example.com From: firstname.lastname@example.org.SPAMBUSTERS (Karen Mitchell) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg Subject: [News] Story - Evolution 16-20 of 25 Date: Sat, 01 Mar 97 10:43:08 -0600 Organization: Onramp Access, Inc. 512-322-9200 Message-ID: Reply-To: email@example.com (Karen Mitchell) NNTP-Posting-Host: onramp6-2.onr.com Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Ref: Gamma.RU alt.sex.stories.tg:8840 Sender: firstname.lastname@example.org X-Class: Big Precedence: junk Lines: 1698 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Length: 80398 Status: RO Don't forget to remove the .SPAMBUSTERS from my address before replying. I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. If this is offensive do not read - delete file. For those of us who enjoy .... enjoy! Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up with what I have now. Sorry about the forged header, but it does help keeping down on the junk mail. Karen Mitchell ==================== Evolution / 16 ==================== "Hold me between your legs," Derek requested. The doctor said that she'd do what she can outside, and to call if they needed her, and left the room. Donna looked at Derek. "Just like we've done lots of times," Derek said. "Let's have some fun." Donna didn't feel much like "fun", but complied anyway, placing Derek between her legs. To him, she seemed larger than ever; her birth canal was nearly large enough for his entire body. He felt very aroused by that thought; now it was time for Donna to share in his pleasure. He snuggled against her, and slid gently against her. In a soothing, yet tiny voice, he told Donna to relax and take a deep breath. Donna did just this. The entrance to her vagina was wet and slippery; Derek traced the edges, gently, and explored her as he had done so many times; soon finding the little hood over Donna's clitoris. He pressed one finger against that little hood and circled gently-- well, for her at least, as nearly everything his tiny body did seem to require considerable effort now. This didn't seem to work at first, but once it did, the familiar feelings returned quickly to Donna. She began to breathe more heavily, her head back, and Derek could feel her heat growing quickly. As she hungered for more stimulation than his tiny fingers could offer, he pushed his whole body against hers, and rubbed between her legs. His own legs were tiring quickly, however. He knew that she'd take a more active part in her own trip to orgasm if she didn't get enough stimulation. At the moment his body was reaching total exhaustion, he looked up to see Donna reaching for him with both hands. She pressed him firmly between her legs and began to slowly gyrate her pelvis against him, making far larger sweeps across his body than he had been able to accomplish. Her lips slid across him with all of their slickness, her clitoris sliding directly across his skin, her breathing becoming more like panting. His tiny penis was reporting incredible sensations as it slid, along with the rest of him, between Donna's giant labia and across all of her hot, slippery femaleness. As she pressed him more tightly against her sex, he knew that her orgasm was approaching. He felt his knees, and for a moment one foot, slip across the vaginal opening itself, just barely inside her, then out again. He wanted to be inside her very much; he was aroused himself, though not approaching orgasm like she was. Donna changed her grip on him, having slid her thumbs around to his stomach. With a move of her fingertips she bent his legs forward at the waist, and with the next circular motion of her hips, pushed his legs into her vagina. "Oh, yes..." Donna moaned. A noise from the door sounded like several people climbing the stairs. Donna slid Derek's legs in and out of her vagina, like she might have done with a dildo. Derek could feel the fit becoming looser, and sure enough, Donna, anxious to get more of him inside, put one palm under his buttocks, and pushed him firmly in, up to his waist. Derek could feel her dilated cervix beginning to slide up over his legs. Powerful contractions gripped both Derek and Donna. After a single scream of ecstasy Derek found himself in his girlfriend up to his neck, her orgasm happening all around him. She began to slow down. Even Derek could hear that there were people just outside the door. He moved his head, his chin rubbing her clitoris. Donna's breathing picked up again, and in just seconds he found her hands on his head, pushing him into her. The door opened forcibly, and Derek's parents stormed in. Donna closed her labia closed over their son's head; with one more powerful "swallow", he was gone. She pulled her legs together and quickly covered herself with the blanket. Derek's father grabbed the blanket away from her. "Quick! Under there!" his mother shouted. As Derek's mother started to panic, and to search the room for her son, Donna aborted their efforts by placing her hands on her now clearly- swollen abdomen. "It's too late," Donna said. "We are one now. It was his wish." Donna's father shouted out the door. "Officer!" Donna was quiet and reserved, like a grinning cat. "Yes, why don't we ask yet another person in here. I'd like to ask why some intruders are in my house staring at my naked body." Derek, still faintly aware of the events outside his girlfriend's body, was patiently waiting for the sensation of suffocation to pass, and for the promised "connection" to her to begin. Derek's father told the officer to "never mind". Derek's mother began crying. She ran to Donna's side, talking to her abdomen. "Derek? Can you hear me?" He could, barely, but could no longer respond. He felt himself beginning to flow into Donna at last; his cares of the outside world softly fading away. "I can't believe you've done this! You animal!" Derek's mother screamed. The police officer observed the situation from the doorway, quickly arriving at the correct understanding of the situation. Donna saw him at the doorway, and with some effort reached over and retrieved a piece of paper from the bedside table. "Here's our RC-1, officer." The officer didn't need a closer look, but instead turned to Derek's parents. "Looks like there's nothing we can do here. I think we've caused enough trouble; let's leave this young woman alone." He coaxed them towards the doorway. "There's nothing we can do?" Derek's mother asked. "I'm so upset at him... I didn't think he could be so stupid..." said the father. The mother pleaded with Donna. "Please don't let us lose touch with him..." The officer became more demanding, anxious to get the parents out of there-- primarily so he could tell his co-workers the story he just witnessed. "That's okay, officer. Thank you." Donna turned to Derek's mother. "You just never listened to him, did you? You never heard what he wanted to say! As for keeping in touch, that will be up to... her." The father grimaced noisily. "And as for _you_," Donna said, with her temper rising, "He _told_ me the kinds of things you said to him. I don't think he was ever worried about _his_ masculinity, you were worried about yours. Well, let me tell you this; it will be an absolute pleasure to turn your son into a girl. _My_ daughter will have no such prejudice." Derek's father angered further. "Oh yes, a girl. A beautiful girl with the wonderful personality that I fell in love with. Such a wonderful outlook on life, no thanks to you. She'll have such beautiful long hair, such a cute smile... and, yes, a pussy just like mine." The father, now quite red in the face, pulled the covers away from Donna again, and stormed right up to her. "I'll rip him out of you myself!" he said, pulling her knees apart. Donna didn't resist at all, now giving Derek's father a perfect view of the pussy that had just swallowed his son. "Careful," she warned. The threat stopped the father in his tracks. He looked at her face; she was deadly serious, her bladder already tensed. The intrusion of Derek's body on her bladder, and perhaps an instinctual defense mechanism, called to Donna, urging her to release her venom; it took conscious effort, plus the realization that she had an audience, to restrain herself from doing it. "Honey, she means it," the mother whined. "Besides, you'll just hurt Derek." Derek's father backed away, as Donna kept her "aim" trained on him. When he was well away from him, she closed her legs again and retrieved the blanket. Within two minutes, Derek's former parents were on their way home. ==================== Evolution / 17 ==================== "Wow... That was a close call," Dara said, ear still glued to the telephone. "So has everything been okay since then?" "As far as I know. It only happened this morning; I called you right away." "Oh... I didn't realize," Dara answered. "Thanks." Susan was staring down at her own body again, doing her best to imagine having someone... inside herself like that. "It's kind of poetic, I think," Susan finally said. "We control our own lives at both ends. If it's true that people will keep some of their memory and abilities between... lives... that the knowledge one gains in life isn't just thrown away at the end of it... we'll end up with a race of super-geniuses someday. It's immortality. I saw this episode on 'Star Trek' once..." "I did too," Marcy said. "But, of course, we don't quite know exactly how much will get preserved across the boundary yet. But, if you're right, I think it will be wonderful. We, as women, can preserve and refine the best elements of our human culture across many generations, if you want to call it that. Reminds me... How's Karen doing?" "Fine, last we heard," Dara answered. "We'll probably visit her today or tomorrow. Susan and I have a lot to do. She got kind of immersed quickly yesterday... but I still have quite a bit to teach her." Susan seemed a bit puzzled. "Like what?" she asked. What else was there to learn? "We'll work on makeup today; then maybe another shopping trip. I saw this great outfit--" "More clothes?" Susan asked. "Of course! We only bought you a few outfits yesterday. Wouldn't last you a week. But, perhaps, we'll do it later. I even have to start teaching you how to walk..." "How to _walk_? You mean I don't even know how--" "In high heels?" Dara interrupted. Susan had no delusions about having this ability. "Well, I guess not... but--" "I should probably get going," came Marcy's voice over the phone, Susan continued. "I heard both of you complain that heels were a 'torture device' invented by men. Given what we're trying to do here, does it make sense for _me_ to be wearing high heels? Isn't that kind of like the founder of the 'Buy USA' project driving a Hyundai?" "She's got you there, Dara," Marcy interjected. "Oh, okay, I suppose. But she does have to learn to walk-- like a woman. It might come in handy. Otherwise I still see a little... masculinity in her." When nobody said anything, Dara figured she needed to explain herself. "She's entitled to learn all the skills that any other woman knows, even if she doesn't have to use them. Right?" "Okay, I see your point," Susan conceded. "Since I really want to be... a woman, it's only fair for me to learn the details." After concluding the phone call, Dara began the next stage of Susan's indoctrination in earnest, teaching her everything her mother had taught her, everything she know about makeup, clothing, etiquette, and culture. Susan simply swallowed hard and did her best to absorb it all, though many components of this new life took quite a bit of practice-- or getting used to. Much was frustrating. Dara had to keep reminding both Susan and herself that she was doing her best to teach, all at once, what a young woman normally had the luxury of several years to absorb. Susan felt herself under great pressure to do everything right the first time. Makeup was by far the most frustrating, and, to Susan, the least useful of the skills that Dara insisted upon sharing. When Susan finally did get even this little task right, and Dara told her to clean up to do it again, Susan was furious. "What was wrong with that? I did just what you said to do." "You did very well. But now I'll have to teach you about different lighting conditions." "What??" "At least you don't have to shave anymore, Susan..." They exhausted themselves that day; and despite Dara's promises on the previous day, neither felt in the mood for anything but sleep that night. The next day seemed entirely different. Both women were rested well, and had a brighter outlook. Dara taught Susan about etiquette, especially when around men, and again Susan did her best to be a good student. The feeling that Dara got was changing-- at least, she could feel a real femininity blossoming within her student. Once she had a taste of it, there'd be no turning back. The little things-- like going to the bathroom sitting down, having no external parts between her legs-- were entirely natural to her now; she didn't even think about it. By the end of the third day of this education, having dressed herself in one of the sexiest outfits that the women had bought, Susan positively radiated an unmistakable feminine appeal that even Dara could feel in her bones. Her outfit, hair style, and even her improved posture quietly added up to make her nearly irresistible. She stood there posed, one leg gently bent such that only her toe was on the floor, head cocked slightly, and one hand delicately on her hip. "Wow..." Dara said, standing back. Inside, she felt a powerful, sexual attraction that she had only occasionally felt for another woman. Susan, anxious for Dara's approval, failed to sense the effect she was having on her friend and teacher. "This bra's too tight, I think", she added. "Amazing..." was still all that Dara could say. It was very hard to knock Dara off her feet this way; normally, even with the sexiest men, she managed to remain cool-- sexy, but in control. Now she felt like that control was slipping away, and she wondered if the men she had been with had experienced this... "I must still be growing up here..." "Uh huh..." Dara nodded. Susan finally determined what Dara's distraction was. It was one of the strangest sensations that Susan had felt so far; she knew that Dara's hormones were in overdrive, but couldn't fully accept that it was her own self that was making Dara act this way. During her first (and only) experience with a man, she hadn't gotten this sensation, perhaps because she was the "trainee" at that point, and Dara was running the show. Now, things were different. "Take it off," Dara said. "What?" "Your bra. We'll get you the next size tomorrow." Susan turned around to undress, and shortly after removing her top, felt Dara reach around her to unclasp the front-unhooking bra. Then she felt warm hands on her breasts. Dara sighed at the touch; and Susan felt the increasingly familiar warmth between her legs. The wetness would follow soon after. She felt her own control begin to disappear; she bid it good riddance. In moments, they were tumbling into the unmade bed. Dara undressed Susan before undressing herself. "Let's see what lovemaking is _really_ like," Dara suggested. Susan merely nodded. Dara, on her knees between Susan's legs, stretched up to touch Susan's hands. She ran her own hands down Susan's arms, across her breasts, and down her abdomen. Next she lay right on top of Susan, mingling her hair with her partners, and explored Susan's mouth with her tongue. Susan simply relaxed and let it happen. She became aware of Dara's breasts touching her own; Dara seemed to share that feeling, because she then propped herself up on her elbows, her breasts now gently suspended from her body, and her nipples simultaneously brushed across Susan's. Karen had done this to George once; but now Susan looked between them to see all four breasts, and her own nipples as gloriously erect as the woman on top of her. Having her own breasts seemed to add immensely to the sensation; Susan moaned at it. Dara lay down again, pressing her breasts against Susan's, and the intensity of the experience increased. After only a few seconds, Dara lifted up again and ran her tongue straight down the center of Susan's body, ignoring her breasts, but heading instead straight for her pussy. The experience was intense for both women. Again, it was an experience that Susan never felt before; and Susan was quickly on her way to orgasm. She spread her legs wide, and pulled her legs up to let Dara's tongue reach into her. Dara suddenly pulled herself away. "Pull your legs up," she suggested, helping Susan to fold her legs around, pulling her knees to her chest. "Just like that." Next, Dara stood on the bed, straddling Susan for a moment, then gingerly squatted down, over Susan's pelvis, and, as she sat, her own pussy pressed tightly against Susan's. Both women felt their labia open, moisture very abundant, as their private parts engaged in what amounted to a long, wet kiss. In a fraction of a second, Dara's engorged clitoris found Susan's. Dara grabbed Susan's legs as if to never let go, and the two women began copulating in earnest. Given the similarity in their bodies, it was no surprise that one massive orgasm consumed them both simultaneously; an explosion of epic proportions that burned them both out rapidly. There was a flood of moisture, but little escaped the seal between the women's bodies until after they separated. Thanks to the effects of gravity, Susan was drenched, Dara less so. They lay upon each other, exhausted, for several minutes. "I guess that's how you do it," Dara said, just now in control of her breath. "Make love?" "I felt myself just _squirt_ into you." "I felt it come into me." Dara peered between Susan's legs. "Yup, that's what happens. Our cervixes open, and vaginas contract, so whatever I put into you goes... in. If we were both fertile right now, you'd probably be pregnant soon. The fluid would have carried my egg into you." "Pregnant?" Susan asked, suddenly worried. "Don't worry. Only if both of us are synchronized with each other, and both of us ovulated. Otherwise we get all the fun with no worries. Clever design-- no birth control needed." "How come it would have been me who gets pregnant? If we're the same, why not you?" "I was on top. Like this fluid, eggs have no motility. Since you were on the bottom, your ovum would stay put, while mine would come down to join it. That's how a couple can decide who bears a particular child." "Gravity... how simple. But that means no babies in space." "I don't see that as a major problem. Besides, it'd probably be a big mistake to have a baby using any method in microgravity. Susan moved down and tasted the fluid in Dara's vagina. It was clear, sweet, feminine, and soon had her excited enough to start all over with Dara. Again, Susan found herself underneath when the time came. This time, they fell asleep immediately afterwards. The next day, the two women went shopping, and stopped back home before heading out to visit Karen and the rest of the bunch. Susan sat down to use the toilet, leaving the door open as usual. She urinated for a minute or so... Dara peeked in after about a half a minute had gone by with no flushing sound. She went to correct Susan again-- "Remember, always wipe front to back--" "You've burned that into me ever since I've been... female. I think you can stop now." "Okay, okay, I'm sorry..." Susan seemed distracted again. "I think something's wrong with me, Dara." Dara whirled back around. "Wrong? What? What's wrong?" Susan pulled another piece of toilet paper from the roll and patted herself. "I'm bleeding. We must have injured something last night. At least..." "I can't imagine... Wait a minute. Spread your legs. Let me look." Susan complied with Dara's request. Dara squatted down in front of Susan, and gently poked around her private parts. Dara smiled up at her. "Well, well... looks like you're having your first period! Congratulations!" "Period?" "We'll have you checked out just to make sure-- since you're 'special' and all, but I'm really quite sure that this is it! I just wonder..." "Wonder what?" "Neither of us is supposed to have periods unless we voluntarily ovulate. There's no way the simulations could have been wrong. You'd remember it if you ovulated.. and it would have been about two weeks ago." Susan thought back that far. "I wonder,.. I was sitting next to Karen when she ovulated, and explored for how I'd do the same thing. I didn't think I could do it already, though." "Did you feel it happen?" "I felt something happen. But, of course, all the feelings were very unfamiliar. Thank goodness you haven't ovulated, or I _would_ be pregnant right now." "Impossible, if your period is starting now... your fertile window is only a few days long, and it was almost a week ago. It takes that long for the lining of your uterus to start breaking down." "Oh." "Think about it, Susan. A year ago you'd never have imagined it... and now it's happening to you. You're a real woman now." Susan thought about it for the first time. Karen had complained about her period several times, but, when George had tried to sympathize with her frustration, she always added that it was a small price to pay for being female. In many ways, she seemed proud of it; after all, it was just one of those things that only women did; and was a sign of her childbearing capabilities, an experience that no man would "understand", since no man could ever do it. This had frustrated George to no end, since even Karen's position was that this little detail of female biology was hopelessly beyond the understanding of any man, no matter how much he had tried; somehow, Karen, like any woman he ever heard mention the topic, somehow used this to make him feel _different_, isolated, inferior-- as if every man's perceived lack of _understanding_ came from ignorance or thoughtlessness. Less than a year later, this person now sat on the toilet, having her first menstrual period ever. She thought back to her transformation-- the frustration and anxiety as she lay in that tiny room watching her masculine parts slowly disappear; and the curiously taboo sense of elation, curiosity, or wonder as she found herself with those sorely underdeveloped, yet clearly female parts. Now those parts were, as this event served to demonstrate, mature and functional, as they would remain for many years. Susan wiped herself again and came up with a bit more blood. "So what do I do now? How long does this last?" "About a week. Tomorrow will be the worst." "A _week_?" Of course Susan knew this would be the case, having lived through several of Karen's periods in great detail. Of course, back then, he had no idea why she shared those things with him, other than for his own curiosity. "More or less. Didn't Karen teach you about this?" "Yes. Now what do I do?" Marcy retrieved a box from one of the cabinets and produced a small white object wrapped in plastic. "You should know how to use this by now. Show me." Susan couldn't believe she was doing it, and felt much the same as she did when Karen instructed George to put her tampon in for her. Now, Susan was doing it to herself. She unwrapped the tampon, spread her legs, and pushed it into herself. The feeling, again, was strange; now she was on both sides of the transaction. Once inside, she really couldn't feel it at all. "That-a-girl," Dara said. "That's it?" Susan asked. "For now. You'll have to bring some of these with you wherever you go until your period ends. You should be able to feel when it's almost time to change it; I can. We should get back down to Industrial Street-- I'm sure Dr. Carlson will want to run some tests on you. Go ahead and get dressed. ==================== Evolution / 18 ==================== While getting dressed, Susan went to put on her old bra. "That's too small for you now," Dara admonished her. "We don't have time to go shopping now. Here, wear one of mine. We'll fit you for a new size later." Dara brought over a bra, but made Susan put it on by herself. It was one of the more-difficult ones that clipped in back, but Susan had no problem with it. Marcy checked the fit. "Well, I'll be..." "What?" "This _is_ your size." Dara pushed in on the fabric a bit. "This is exactly what I'd put you in. A perfect fit. We've got the same tits!" "Really?" "Yes! Look how round they are..." Dara led Susan to the mirror, which they stood sideways to, back to back. "So, I guess we don't need to go bra shopping for you anymore. We can just share! Speaking of sharing..." Dara rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a pair of panties. "Thanks," Susan said, as she began to put them on. "Yeah, if you're going to have any 'accidents' during your first period," "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot..." Susan started to remove the panties. "No, no, no... I've had plenty of accidents in those particular panties. That's why _you_ get to wear them now." "Gee, thanks," muttered Susan, who again started to pull the panties on. "Don't worry, they're clean. But I do reserve a certain style for this time of the month. It's funny... I keep getting this feeling that I should have my period soon... But of course I won't." "You can, if you want..." "After... oh, hundreds and hundreds of periods, I actually kind of appreciate the break. It's supposed to be an improvement to ovulate voluntarily, you know. And this is exactly why. But perhaps I will try out my new plumbing. Next cycle. We can bleed together." "You mean synchronize? Then one of us _would_ get pregnant. I'm not ready to be a mother... or a 'father', or whatever you'd call it." "Good point. A bad idea. And I don't know what you'd call it. Just another 'mother', I suppose." "Surely there's got to be a difference..." "Not _after_ the birth process is over. Even the 'father', as you call it, will be able to breast feed the baby. A burst of pheromones from her mate during childbirth will trigger her own lactation. So the baby won't really know the difference after birth, and bonds almost equally with both parents." "But that means that-- if you were in the room with another woman during childbirth, you'd start to lactate-- even if it wasn't your baby." "Right. But I think Jeannette said you actually have to touch the mother's fluids, not just pick up something through the air. But, true, if you have a doctor or midwife present, she might be lactating constantly. One of those work-related hazards, if you call it that. I suppose some kind of resistance will build up, though." "I see," Susan answered. "Take this bag; it has exercise stuff in it for later. Let's go." Susan and Dara hopped in the car and headed across town to Industrial Street, where they were greeted warmly. Dr. Carlson performed a simple examination, which she was happy with, and then inserted a strange plastic tube, connected to a syringe at the end, into Susan's vagina, then worked the syringe handle until the syringe was nearly filled with a blood-looking fluid. With this done, Susan was allowed to insert a new tampon, and dress again. "What's that for?" Susan asked. "Hopefully, extracted an ovum from you before you expelled it on your own. We'll run it under a microscope to make sure everything's okay, and then we'll desequence it and see if your genetic patterns match our predictions. It'll take a few days for that." Next, they went downstairs to visit Karen. She was taking a break from working on a textbook that the collective put together, and Dara and Susan found her working on a watercolor painting. "Karen! I didn't know you knew how to paint..." Susan said. "Susan! Dara! Great to see you! Don't let this fool you... I've taken some classes, but I really don't know how to paint, as this will probably attest to when I'm done..." "Looks fine to me... Abstract, yet powerful," Dara noted. "I know. But it wasn't supposed to be abstract. Oh well." Karen laughed, and sat on the bed, motioning the others to join her. "Glad you two found time in your busy schedule to visit!" "Well, turns out there were two good reasons to stop by... Susan here just got her first period this morning!" "Really?" "I think I ovulated myself at the same time you did-- when I was with you. I was just exploring..." Karen needed no further explanation. "Wow... my lover's having her first period... I remember mine so well..." "Me too," said Dara. "Couldn't have come at a worse time. In school with white gym shorts on. The worst thing was not knowing if anybody noticed or not. For the next year I was so paranoid..." "I guess I was just lucky," Karen said. "I just knew it was about to happen. I had been wishing for it for months." Turning to Susan, she said: "So all my training will come in handy, it seems." "If only you could have told me _why_ you were teaching me back then..." Karen shrugged her shoulders and smiled. Dara had more questions for Karen. "So, how are you doing? No morning sickness, I hope?" "Morning sickness... wonder what that's like," Susan mumbled. "Don't ask me," Dara answered. "I'm never been pregnant. You and I are in the same boat." "In more ways than one," Karen added. "You two could pass for twins now. But, to answer your question, no. I feel fine. Dr. Carlson says that it's unlikely that any of us would ever get 'morning sickness'. So I guess none of us will ever know what _that's_ like. And that's fine with me!" "So can you talk with him?" "Her. She's a girl now, just like us. Yes, but she's been very quiet for the last week or so. Jeanette tells me that she's spending most of her energy just developing and growing-- so like a tiny baby, she's only alert enough to communicate for very short times. Most of the time she's just dreamy... connected, but dreamy." Images flashed through Karen's mind. "Not dreamy at the moment, though. She remembers you very well, Susan." The image flashing through Karen's mind was now very clear-- of standing in that storage room, looking up only to see the last of Susan's urine spilling through space onto Daniel's body. Of Susan lowering her skirt, and of the smile on her face when she turned around and realized that she had made her target. Karen hadn't faded this memory from her occupant's mind, but had softened the anger he felt at that moment, placing the events in the context of the beginning of her new life, instead of the end of his old one. "From when you... peed on her." "Uh-oh. Hope she's not mad at me." "No, actually, we spent quite a bit of time on that. If anything, she's thankful that you stopped Daniel in time. She's a different person now, but is glad that even her old self didn't have murder in her past. I'm really helping her build a new life." The conversation went on for a while, before Dara invited Karen to come out to lunch with them. Karen accepted, and the three women soon headed out to a "Deli-style" restaurant that was one of Karen's favorites. As they waited for a table before eating, a pair of men approached them. It didn't take long for the rest of that scene to play itself out-- and it was very obvious that the idea of being "outnumbered" was very exciting to them. Even Susan found nothing appealing about them. "I'm sorry," Karen said. "We're kind of busy tonight." She shot Dara a glance that said very clearly: "This kind of thing never happens _here_!" "We could certainly help you keep busy," came the reply. "I'm sorry, fellas, but thanks for asking." Karen answered. "Look, we could really have--" one man answered. Dara was getting indignant. "Look, we came here to have lunch, not get picked up," she said, in a loud enough voice that people would hear. People nearby did indeed turn their attention this way. This accomplished the goal, as one of the two men started to pull the other away. "Forget it, man... They're probably all... anyway." As soon as they were out of earshot, Susan whispered to the others. "Extinction. Definitely. An idea whose time has come." Finally at the table, Susan continued; "Not that I have anything against a little persistence-- after all, everyone deserves a mate sooner or later... but they could at least _wash_! Does this happen often?" Dara nodded. "One disadvantage of the body you've inherited. Like moths to the light, sometimes. On the other hand, it's better than being a moth." Susan looked to Karen, who nodded in agreement. "I bet in a few years it'll be much more common to get hit on by another woman," Karen suggested. "I disagree," said Dara. "I don't think women would stoop quite as low as we just witnessed." "Even women will have to find their mates somehow. We won't have 'moths' around us, as you put it." Susan finally entered the discussion. "I don't think you can generalize like that. There are women of all sorts-- a complete spectrum. Some pride themselves on being "civilized", some are very freewheeling. Many into love, commitments, relationships-- and some just want sex for now. We haven't changed any of it. I don't think that certain institutions-- phone sex, "escort services", and such will survive, though. There's always been this thing about our culture... with the female like the queen bee-- her sexuality valued above that of the male, so you could put a price on it. And women have kept it that way, taking advantage of men's desperation." "How?" Dara asked. "That's a pretty strong statement, Susan." "Well, historically, women would hide as much of their bodies as was acceptable to do. Women wore skirts that stretched to the floor, so there'd be no glimpse of legs-- for, heaven forbid, men might wonder what we had between them. We intentionally separate ourselves from the other sex at an early age, which builds the curiosity factor immensely-- and women historically used their sexual lures to secure commitment, marriage, security, or even money. Then, when some women "defect" and agree to appear nude in some movie or magazine, and these men _pay_ to see a woman's body at last, we blame the _men_ for exploiting women and being 'dirty-minded'. The men then wonder why we aren't so interested in seeing their bodies in some magazine..." Dara interrupted. "Because it's so easy for most women to get. I remember a girl in my grade-school class who'd convince boys to strip naked, just for a look under her shirt-- and she didn't really have anything up there yet," Dara said. "I remember the first time I got a boy to show me his 'dinky'. It took hardly any effort at all." Karen added her voice. "It's been quite true for all of us-- at least if you look halfway decent. I remember this old joke-- A little boy comes up to a little girl and tells her, 'My dad just put up a swing in my backyard', and the little girl tells him that she has a whole swing _set_ in her backyard. So the boy says, 'Well, I got a new bicycle for Christmas, and it's got three speeds!' The girl replies '_I_ have a bicycle with _ten_ speeds.' The boy answers 'Well, I have a puppy and he's all mine!', and the girl goes 'A dog? I have my own pony!'. Finally, the boy can't take it anymore. So he pulls down his pants, pulls out his tiny penis, and shouts, 'Well I have one of _these_, and you don't! So there!'. The girl, calm as ever, lifts her skirt and says, 'Well, I have one of _these_, and with one of _these_, I can get as many of _those_ as I want.'" "I remember feeling like that," Susan said. "It often seemed like girls always got what they wanted." "We didn't," said Karen. "But not to get off the topic... You say that women used their sexuality for their own gain. Ever consider that those rules of society were really written by men?" "What?" said Susan. "Of course little of this applies to us today, but men have always been interested in controlling women to their own ends. Who makes most of the money when some men buy pornographic magazines or movies? Other men. Who designed the 'social values' that kept women in their 'place' for so long? Men. Who invented the religious doctrines governing women's conduct, even to the point of sex and marriage? Men. All of whom had something to gain. The magazine owners get money. The politicians get to satisfy their own craving for control, and the thanks of the magazine owners. And organized religion pulls immense power from the people. If they say that you can't touch a woman's body, or have sex with her, until you're married, and the people believe it, some end up _getting_ married just so they can have what they want. Where do you get married? In the church." Susan was intrigued. "Then how come women always seem to have much more... control over their desires than men do?" "Well, it's a reach to say that women are always in control, as I'm sure even you will find... but, even taking that for granted, there's a reason. Because that's what society expects of us. And that's what the power brokers expect of us. If every woman were to go off showing her stuff to any man who asked, there would be no money in the pornographic magazine business. Back in the days when pants or slacks were a no-no, women weren't supposed to have vaginas. They had sex in the dark so their husbands minds wouldn't get corrupted for what was supposed to be simple procreation. Even today... _today_... All of us... including, you, Susan, are legally required to hide our chest when we're at the beach. Men aren't. Why the law? Are they worried we might turn someone on? Or are they really concerned that our nipples might get sunburned?" Susan thought for a second. "But certainly it's reasonable... I mean that there are children..." Karen sat up straight. "In five months, a child is going to have his face buried _right here_," she whispered, making an obvious motion towards one breast. "Why should I be worried that my children happen to know what a human breast looks like? Or a vagina, for that matter? This child will know very _well_ what a vagina looks like-- having made three trips through it, of which at least one she'll remember quite clearly; and, of course, she'll have one of these evil things herself. No, society merely wants to withhold all this to maintain the disparity; the pressure, the sexual frustration. We end up paying for it when some undersexed college boy commits date rape, or some guy insists on hitting on every woman he sees simply because the fruit is usually forbidden to him." To Susan, Karen suddenly seemed a bit more militant than usual, and realized that it was probably her own reaction that had provoked it. "I guess I see your point. It's really distracted us from focusing on our own, human agenda." "For many years, I always figured that it was just one of those things that would never change, that was just a fact of life. But now... it looks like it will. There simply won't be that gender distinction that has always frustrated us. We'll be able to write the laws however _we_ want to." The bill for the dinner arrived, and Dara paid it. "Sometimes I wish we could have eliminated the prejudice, just for the sheer success of having done it..." Karen answered. "You can't, Dara. There's certain things that couldn't easily be corrected through social change. We can have children, men can't. We live longer. We have to cover our tops because we have something to cover. It's the one thing that the 'great melting pot' couldn't fix. Until now." The three women walked back to the car, and started back to Industrial Street. "Karen, we figured out how to have sex last night," Dara said, solemnly. ==================== Evolution / 19 ==================== Karen's eyes opened wide. "You... and Susan?" Susan's mouth opened. She hadn't even thought of this; after all, prior to her transformation, Karen had been her only real lover. Suddenly Susan felt a sense of having betrayed Karen somehow... "Yes," Dara said, now much more quietly. Susan was worried for Karen's feelings, and her reaction. But surely she must have figured that something like this would happen, Susan thought, with Dara and herself sleeping in the same room. Karen certainly understood Dara's "activity" level. But, apparently, this had been weighing on Dara's mind since it happened. Karen just sighed. It was the reaction that Susan had feared the most; She had been hoping on a long-shot, that Karen would actually be excited by the news and want the details. Things seemed to change with Karen that night. It took some time for Susan to realize that things have been "different" for quite a while; she remembered Karen's proclamation of love towards her, and fleeting fantasies of spending her life with Karen, as friends and lovers. It was a dream that even George had aspired to. The same person, in a different body, had loved and wanted Karen so much. Now, Karen was pregnant, and would soon be, quite necessarily, living her own life; a life that Susan wouldn't be ready for, having hardly any of the life experience that Karen had. Suddenly she realized the problems of "reversing" someone; the responsibility, should a woman carry through as Karen had elected to do, was hardly different from simply _having_ a baby. Karen's daughter would be physically dependent, at least, on her for years, especially in a world that wasn't ready for "babies" that came equipped with a full bank of human knowledge. It made sense for lovers, as in the story Marcy had related, who planned on spending many years together anyway. But it was still frustrating; George had several good friends that Susan had been planning on giving an "invitation", so to speak, someday. Now she wasn't so sure. In either case, the chances of her visions with Karen coming true were fading away quickly. At first, Susan felt angry with Dara for "spilling the beans". But, before voicing this emotion, she came to the realization that she should be thankful... for sparing her that task, for surely she would have had to tell Karen sooner or later. Hardest of all would be leaving Karen tonight, when all concerned knew that she and Dara would likely mate again upon arriving home. Susan explored this thought for a moment. Somehow Karen no longer excited her the way Dara did; sex with Karen now would be a betrayal of her new bedmate, wouldn't it? Thoughts of it-- another night with Dara-- started to creep in and excite Susan. Susan finally shook herself out of it. Knowing Dara as she was coming to, and having participated with her in a threesome with a man earlier that week, Dara would probably have no complaints about involving Karen in their escapades. Unfortunately, there was no way to suggest that to Karen tonight. They ran into Lisa, who seemed very busy, when they returned to the complex. "Susan! Dara! My, you two look fine!", Lisa said. She tussled Susan's hair. "Very nice. She looks more like you every day, Dara." "I try," Dara said. "As long as we can wear each other's clothes..." "So how are things going? I haven't heard much news lately..." "Not very well," Lisa reported. "That's what's been keeping me so busy. Come with me." She headed off quickly to the media center; the other women followed. "Most of it we've expected, of course. But that doesn't make it easier. Almost all of the major organized religions have condemned us for 'interfering with God's order'. Some groups of men, some fraternal organizations, and even some labor unions have expressed the idea that we're a bunch of militant feminists out to use the equivalent of thermonuclear war on men everywhere." "War? Using our own wombs to simply not _create_ new male offspring... how can they consider that 'war'?" Susan asked. "You underestimate the desire of men to have male children. Already, the statistics on babies born in hospitals are showing effects. About seventy percent of babies born in the last two weeks, worldwide, have been female, and the percentage is rising every day." Susan worked out the math in her head. Twenty percent of "extra" females wasn't much, but it meant... Hmmm. Thirty percent of the children born were male, and this number represented about half of the offspring of "normal" women. So sixty percent of the mothers hadn't converted yet. But that meant that... "Forty percent of the mothers..." she said out loud. "That means that four out of seven baby girls born are already..." "Exactly," Lisa said. "And that's scaring people. Well, men, at least." The numbers already raced through Susan's head again. Even if not a single additional woman were to convert starting today, the next generation would consist of nearly 60 percent of them, four out of seven, and assuming a consistent birth rate, 80% of the world's children would be girls, of which 75% would have the new abilities. Then eighty-four percent... Of course it was all part of the plan; there was nothing anybody could do about it now. And, as women continued to convert, and some men got reversed or even sterilized, the rate of change would simply accelerate. "One of the big problems, of course, is that we're not getting the fair media access we expected. Even the newspapers have cut off their female reporters when they submit anything positive about us. Here, watch this," Lisa said, handing Dara a videotape. "I have to get going. Call me tomorrow, though." Karen turned to leave as well. "Where are you going?" "I've already seen it," she said, "and I've got a little someone inside me who is starting to wake up again. I'll catch up with you if you're still here." Karen followed Lisa out. Dara put the cartridge in the player and snapped on one of the monitors. The tape contained compiled press conferences and news reports that the group had collected. Most was exactly as Lisa had said, but some was shocking. The state government was considering emergency legislation that would require identification of any woman with "altered" reproductive abilities, perhaps even by some kind of tattoo, and would make it a crime for any woman, converted or not, to deposit any of her own bodily fluids on any other person, male or female, or even to conspire to do so. "So continuing to spread the abilities would be a crime," Susan said as they watched the report. "So would defending yourself against a male. But I don't see how they'd enforce..." The report continued to say that, while no means of identifying a converted woman was yet available, a urine test was the most likely candidate. When the politicians were questioned on the enforcement issue, they mentioned that the state might simply have to offer a substantial cash reward to anyone, male or female, who comes forth with information on these "dirty" acts that women were performing. The women in the audience were outraged; but became much more so when the suggestion was made that "converted" women, for the good of the country, not be allowed to have sex, and be sterilized or aborted should they become pregnant. "Ouch," said Susan. "So if I have a girlfriend, and decide to give her these abilities, she might just turn me in for the cash reward. It'll scare everyone away from completing our mission." "Don't count on it. Say you managed to get someone else to pee on you, because you wanted the cash reward. If you _do_ get peed on, even if you turn your partner in, you still end up with those abilities yourself. I bet the state would take the opportunity to tattoo you right then and there. I don't think women will fall for it. What are they going to do, put us all in jail?" The next recording on the tape was of a public protest to the press conference they had just watched. There were various people holding signs, of course, but the climax of the protest came when about fifteen women dressed in swimsuits, or shorts and bikini tops, or T-shirts, lay themselves down on the state house steps, and three women wearing skirts stood over them. The scene was cut by the network editors just as one could barely see the beginning of three streams of urine emerge from the women who were standing; next scene was a close-up of the women lying on the stairs, soaking wet, starting to slowly get up, giving each other high-fives, shaking their fists at the camera, or showing off their soaking-wet bodies. The woman with the white shorts on made it very clear, in the pictures, that the fluid was yellow. The next scene showed the three skirted women being dragged away by the police, which only further angered the mob; although nothing like the law mentioned before had passed yet, there was still simple public indecency. Next we saw a talk show where Lisa was being interviewed. The host, who of course was male, was ruthless, as were some of the female audience members. The tone was much the same as the state-house press conference; how dare you make such a change to our natural order, without our consent? When Lisa tried her best to calmly explain that the new abilities were spread _only_ with consent, she was confronted with the statistics of baby girls being born. A man in the audience asked her, furiously, how she could use the word "consent"; nobody had asked _him_ if he minded losing his ability to bear male children, which he claimed he had simply because there were "no women out there" who could bear one for him. Lisa became very upset by this: "How dare you even _suggest_ that you have the _right_ to any ability of some woman's body! What a woman can do, and what she can produce from her own body, is her choice alone. We aren't here as baby factories to satisfy your male ego..." The talk show host cut that audience member off and went to a woman with her hand raised. "My own _daughter_ has become one of... 'you people'. I'll never have a grandson, now, thanks to you..." "That was your daughter's choice! It's _her_ body! You have no more right to it than _that_ guy does..." "But she was _talked into it_ by her friend! And now there's no going back!" Lisa was frustrated, obviously on the defensive, and losing ground fast. One of the featured guests was a man who had been sprayed by a woman, and feared never having children again. He had no interest in becoming a woman himself, and was angry that anyone had ever suggested that. Lisa found herself furious that his "attacker" hadn't been invited to the show, to explain _why_ she had squirted this guy; no woman took this action lightly, with the exception of a few women who were simply playing with mates that they planned to reverse anyway. For Lisa, thank goodness it was only a half-hour show. The next thing on the tape was entirely different; a private videotape of one of Marcy's sessions. It was a totally different picture; everyone there was supportive; even the men in the audience. Nobody had been kept from the seminar, yet there were were few furious detractors, on whom the same arguments Lisa had attempted during the talk show were effective in silencing. There was no sensation that the world was coming to an end as the news and talk shows seemed to suggest. It gave a great comparison to what the media had been saying; and how they had entirely omitted the strong sense of grass-roots support that this movement had in reality. Dara flipped through an on-line edition of the group's schedule and log at a nearby terminal. Performing a few searches, she found the documents-- actually articles from a bulletin-board network that was headquartered here-- that gave some comments on how women expected to escape this persecution they suddenly faced. Despite the fact that the gender of the voting population had not changed much, there was a recall vote for certain key politicians planned, including the one who had made those infuriating suggestions at the state house. Another report showed that there were already enough signatures collected to put the recall on the ballot. Dara showed the article to Susan, who commented quite easily, "That's been the whole idea all along, hasn't it?" "Sure. That's why I was out there," Dara answered. "There's already too many of us for them to fight. They'll have to cater to what's happening, not resist it." Another article showed that there was support of them by more men than there was dissent by women; or, in other words, the small number of women projected to vote against the recall, and subsequent replacement of that position by a woman, were easily made up for by the number of men would did support this effort. In fact, there were more than that many men who planned to become women someday, according to poll results in a different article; of course they wouldn't mind more acceptance of what they planned to become. The media was a different story. The problem was, even though in some cases there was enough momentum to simply take over a particular station, or in grander plans, an entire network, the agencies who had to approve such purchases consisted primarily of men who would be opposed to it, having been media people themselves. Newspapers seemed easy-- one local paper had been started up by a group of men and women who saw the bias in the current press, and it was becoming quite successful; but broadcast media would be a different story. The only solid plans so far was for a strike by the concerned employees of KLXV, ironically the station which first broke the story to the public. "Enough," Dara finally said. "Let's go find Karen." Karen turned out to be asleep, so the two women headed out without waking her. They got back in the car. "You know, I've been thinking," Dara said. "I think this is my mission. I'm very glad I got involved. Very glad I met... you." "Me too. I feel like I've been so _useless_, though. You've had to teach me practically everything. But I owe everything I am to you, and Marcy, and Karen. I really want to give something back to it." "Maybe we could do it together," Dara said. "I think you'd be great. I think that we're the only ones-- including Marcy-- that might really explain to men what it's like to become female; what it's all about. And you're the only one who's actually gone through it. They'll listen to you." Susan smiled. "You know, it's funny..." Dara said. "All this time I've been setting you up to solo-- go out on your own, as the woman you are..." "Really?" "Of course. You haven't been on your own... you've been watched every minute since I first laid eyes on you, holding that stupid flat tire in my hands. Then I shared myself with you, and you became like me. Now you're as ready for the real world as I am, Susan; as much of a woman as I am. But now I'm beginning to feel like I don't want to let go." "Then don't," Susan said. They pulled into a parking lot, but Dara didn't get out of the car. "I felt more with you last night than I have with any man," Dara said. "It's like you're a part of me." "I am. I'm wearing your panties to prove it. And this body didn't come from nowhere." Susan felt the emotional run-up that she had only felt with Karen. Her "betrayal" was complete; Dara had elicited feelings that seemed, now, even stronger than Karen had generated. Perhaps it was because of all the concentrated time that Dara had spent with her; after all, not _everybody_ devotes themselves to not only making someone a woman, but teaching them to be one as well. It was suddenly obvious that the feeling was mutual. Feeling a sudden loss of words, the two women finally got out of the car. They were parked outside the fitness club that Dara belonged to. It took only minutes for Dara to sign Susan up as her guest. George had been the guest of one of his friends here before; but now Susan found herself heading into the Ladies' locker room for the first time. Dara opened the gym bag she brought, tossed an outfit Susan's way, and started to undress. As it was approaching dinnertime, the locker room was nearly empty. Susan remembered something important when she pulled her panties off; the panties now had a brownish-red stain on them. Dara figured out instantly what was going on. "Oops, I totally forgot, Susan. I'm sorry. You've gone all day without changing. It can be hard to feel on the first day. Here," she said, tossing another tampon to her. "The toilets are over there. Then you'll be fine until bedtime." It felt strange for Susan to walk, in her naked, female body, the whole length of the locker room, past several other women in various states of undress. Two were entirely naked, on their way from the shower, hair soaking wet. She couldn't help but think how much George would have wanted to be here; to get a glimpse of what she now saw so easily. She conceded, though, that the concept was ridiculous; George _was_ here, and there was nothing to stop her, even in her new body, from getting turned on by the sight of other women. But she didn't. It simply wasn't the thing one did in cases like this. Had she still been male, she concluded, and co-ed locker rooms been society's norm, her behavior would be unchanged-- except, of course, that she was headed over to change a tampon. Simply having a male body didn't cause one to go "ape", so to speak, over any strange female, dressed or undressed, that happened to walk by. She felt upset that society didn't trust men and women enough to be together in such a state; the same society that supposedly made people civilized. Yet the club had two separate locker rooms. She imagined what would be happening soon-- it would be great to be male, as one would have all the "men's" facilities virtually to oneself, while the "women's" equivalents became increasingly crowded. Eventually both locker rooms would be for women; though one would still have the soft, pastel tile of the original women's locker room, and the other the bright, harsh colors that someone apparently decided that men prefer. She suddenly realized that she was one of the few visitors here that had ever seen the inside of both places; an experience even Dara hadn't shared. At the toilet, Susan peed first, then fished for the little string that would remove her tampon. With the change done, she wiped herself a bit and returned to Dara. Dara was already dressed. It didn't take long for Susan to realize that the outfits were similar-- same style, different color scheme, and that there would be only one way to put it on. There were two parts-- the bottoms were like pantyhose that ended well before the knee, the rest was like a "tank" swimsuit. Susan stepped into the bottom section, which was the only thing that covered her bottom. Dara's bottom was a soft, pastel color, and the top a matching, but much brighter one. The bottoms that Susan stepped into were a very shiny black; the kind of thing she often saw Dara in. The contrast around her pelvis with the bright blue, skintight top was obviously intentional. It drew ones eyes almost directly to her crotch, and her bottom. The suit had a built-in bra, which made her shape very, very visible. All in all, it looked painted on. "Wow, you can really get away with a lot," Susan said. "That's nothing. I have a suit-- well, _we_ have a suit-- that has a bare midriff; but they don't like that here for sanitary reasons. But you watch; almost all the women wear really hot stuff here. Guys just have T-shirts and old shorts. Never figured that out." "Perhaps it's because they're here to exercise, not show off." "They show off. Watch. You'll see. Watch the 'muscle' shirts, the bulges in their crotches... It's like a big game. Now _you're_ the one they can look at, but not touch. It's actually kind of fun." "Fun??" "Sure. I don't mind giving 'em a little kick when I can. Watch how many of them get caught looking at you." It happened exactly as Dara had described. Even as early as the warm- ups, it became obvious that a glimpse at her body was a prime treat for many of the men. While doing leg stretches, she caught one guy who's eyes seemed locked to that brightly-colored outfit's crotch. Dara pointed a few of these instances out. Susan's endurance was off quite a bit from what George had done, which wasn't surprising given her lack of exercise, but then Susan surprised herself with her own strength; having not exercised for months now, she figured she'd be doing less than half the weight that George did last time he was here. She wasn't as strong as the men were, and would probably never be so again, but it was certainly more than half. Dara next took Susan to a 'beginner'-level aerobics session. Normally Dara took the 'expert' one, but hadn't been to it in quite a while and, of course, wanted to accompany Susan, who had never done it before. It turned out to be too easy for both women; the instructor pointed this out at the session's conclusion. Finally the two women showered, and got dressed. Dara had brought clean panties for both of them. Susan felt great; and was now committed to maintaining the same tone that Dara had. Returning to the car, exhausted but somehow refreshed, they found themselves looking into each other's eyes again. The feeling they had left behind in this spot was still waiting there for them. "I'm getting you home," Dara said. ==================== Evolution / 20 ==================== "You still need to 'solo'," Dara said, spontaneously, as the two women drove home. Susan sounded disappointed. "But you said..." "I know. And I _don't_ want to let you go. And, you know what? I'm not going to." Susan safely assumed that there were conditions here. "However?" "However, I'd be depriving you of some pretty powerful experiences. Face it, Susan, you haven't had to handle yourself since, well, I first met you. We've been your whole life." "But I like that," said Susan, who flashed back to the kidnapping, and the terrible loss of control she felt then. Now, it seemed, Dara wanted to set her caged animal free, and it didn't want to leave. "But I don't! And it won't be good for you. You've needed me to teach you things about yourself, and you still do. But my purpose is to see that you become as much of a woman-- an adult, independent woman, capable of taking care of herself... as you can. You haven't had the freedom and independence that even the ordinary teenage girl enjoys. How many of them have a friend there all the time to help them dress, do their hair, and handle their 'feminine protection'?" "But, this is different..." Susan complained. "I know. I'm teaching you everything an adult woman would know in weeks instead of years. But you have an advantage, of course. You already have twenty-five years of experience..." "Not in this body," Susan argued. "Oh, and what a body..." Dara mumbled. "Susan, what I'm trying to say is... You've done very well in your job of... adapting... to what's happened to you. You're a woman, right? You feel like one all the way through, right?" It was strange for a moment; Susan wasn't sure if she needed to explain that she didn't feel tremendously different. She felt, well, like herself. And, yes, she was a woman. Fine. "Yes, I feel like a woman. Thanks to you." "Good. Now you need to take the next step. You need to be your _own_ woman. Then, you can be mine. And I'll be yours. Otherwise we're on unequal footing." "But I don't get it. What does it take to be my own--" Dara interrupted, slightly frustrated by the difficulty of communicating the whole concept. "Susan, look. You _are_ a woman. You know everything that all other women do. You've graduated. There are many, many women out there no more adept at... life... than you are. Now it's time to go beyond the ordinary, the lowest common deminator. You need to be able to socialize, to flirt, to... pick someone up if you wanted to... to handle yourself when, quite inevitably I'm afraid, someone else tries to pick _you_ up. You need to learn how to dance! How to enjoy being yourself! When you first became female, you could barely crawl. You couldn't even pee on your own. I've tought you to walk, now you're running. I want to see you _fly_, Susan. As high as I can. Then we'll be equals in more than just our looks." "How can I do that without you, though? I've never danced in a male body. Nobody ever tought me. I always thought of myself as very clumsy!" "You don't have to do it without me. I'll be there, because I want to see it when it happens. And I had help learning to dance... to fly... Of course. But when you can do it on your own, you're there. I have to admit it's kind of selfish of me; I know I'm making you into what I want, someone who's played the same games that I have; and has done, and can do, the same things. But I get the feeling it's the last chance I've got... you're becoming so... irresistable, Susan, that if I didn't let you go-- even temporarily-- when I could, I'd never let you go at all." Susan understood, but was nearly in tears. "Does this mean you can't stay with me? What will you do?" "We'll see. You don't realize how hard this is, I think. I'm not looking forward to the event, but to what you'll be after it happens. Sure, I'll stay with you, but not all the time; every night. I can't get in the way when you are ready to have someone... else... in your bed." Susan raised her voice. "Is that what this is about? Is that my challenge? I need to sleep with someone else to prove myself to you? Isn't that kind of backwards?" "Susan, listen..." Susan was quite upset. "Well if that's all you want, I'll just pick someone up tonight, take a roll in the hay, and be done with it! What proof do you want... underwear? Semen sample? Or, perhaps, someone's panties?" Dara sighed. "Oh no... I didn't..." "Karen told me you were 'wild', but I certainly didn't think--" The car pulled into the parking lot at Susan's apartment. "Look, Susan, I told you this was selfish. And do you want to know what's on my mind? Besides making you a successful, independent person, which I want as my partner, and a mature, social animal which I also want as my partner... There's an even more selfish desire. Look, in your entire life as a man you had sex with one female... Karen. In your entire life as a female, you've had _me_. And Mark, sort of. You've never done it on your own! In my life as a female, I've made it with several women besides you, and more guys than I can count. Well, almost. Now, if we do take each other on as partners, and I become entirely faithful to you, and vice versa, how will I feel knowing that it was me, who was merely supposed to teach you those experiences, cut those experiences short? I need you to do this so I don't feel guilty." Susan was sniffling, and holding back some tears. Dara looked at her. "I have to do this. So you do. You've become much more than just a friend and sexual attraction to me, Susan, and it scares me. You know what they say about letting go..." "And coming back," said Susan. "I hope you'll understand," said Dara, whose eyes were also getting moist. "I'll try," was all that Susan could say. Even if she knew she'd be back, the sensation that she was soon to be thrust from the nest was very strong for Susan. She spent most of the next day at home, sorting out some very old mail, paying bills, and writing a few letters to friends and relatives who still didn't have a clue as to what had happened to George. She had some strong menstrual cramps that day, and her flow was obviously increasing towards its peak. This was the first thing that Dara let her handle by herself, although she gave a few pointers during the day on keeping the cramps under control as best she could. "Uck," Susan said. "I don't know how women have done this every month," she said. "My panties are sticky." Dara, who was leaning on the couch and reading a book, didn't look up. "Women didn't have a choice. We have menstrual extraction now, which is pretty neat. But you need to experience this, once. Just think; every woman in the world has done it. Now you're one of them. A small price to pay for having a uterus." Susan got up and sat on the toilet for a few minutes. She contemplated her body again, and what it was now doing to her. Here was this opening between her legs, where before there had been none, which insisted on discharging this fluid day and night, as if to punish her somehow. The center of her sexuality seemed to be doing its best to torture her. It was probably one of the most "different" experiences she had felt so far. She got up and went back to her desk, to continue balancing the checkbook. "You may not believe this, but you actually kind of miss it when it doesn't happen for this long," Dara said. Susan shook her head, trying her best to understand that sentiment. Dara continued reading. "When it's happened to you all your life. And, of course, when it doesn't happen and you _are_ expecting it, it's panicville." "You mean you thought you might be pregnant?" "When you're as sexually active as... well... I was, it sure does worry me. Turns out I was just a week late or so. It happens all the time-- so many things can throw off your cycle. It's one thing you won't experience-- unfortunately, almost." "Being worried about being pregnant?" Susan asked. "No, no... having a 'cycle'. Not being able to control it. Of that feeling of looking on the calendar and realizing 'here it comes'." "Well, I suppose. But if I'm to ovulate, I know that this happens in about two weeks." "I guess." "So doesn't it happen at a bad time? What do you do?" "If it was really bad, sometimes, I'd do like you're doing. Little errands, cleaning. But, usually, you don't let it interfere with you at all. One of the great secrets that a woman keeps from the world-- well, from men at least-- is that she's having her period. But, with a little practice, and after you learn to feel it and don't get paranoid about accidents anymore, it really is no problem. That reminds me... I should get you fitted for a diaphragm." "Diaphragm? Why?" Susan asked. "Can't very well have sex with a tampon inside you, you know." "You can have sex while this is going on?" Susan asked. "With a man? Who would want to..." "Sure. We don't let men get away with telling _us_ that we're 'unclean' anymore. Besides, when a guy's about to get laid, do you think a little thing like this will turn him off?" "Yes," said Susan. "You mean you never had sex with Karen during her period?" "Well..." Susan said. "I... guess so. Once. No, twice." "And did it bother you?" "Well... No. I kind of thought it was neat that she was sharing that secret with me." "Exactly," said Dara. "And if it doesn't bother them, it won't bother you. Sure, there's a few squeamish guys out there. But usually they're just not my type. There's been more than enough times that I've started my period while I had a lover inside me, or been sleeping on top of him and left a puddle on him in the morning." "Oh my..." said Susan. "That's what I thought. I was so embarrassed I could have cried. But you know what? They thought it was the neatest thing in the world." "That's a surprise," Susan said. "Don't I know it. So now, it doesn't bother me anymore. And it shouldn't bother you." The two women stayed home that day, but Dara insisted on going out the next day, even though Susan's period was still at or near its peak. Going for another workout tested the peak of Susan's paranoia about her period; after all, here she was in tight-fitting, albeit dark-colored, exercise tights, and spread out on leg machines that practically exhibited her crotch to the world. However, everything worked out fine. Next stop, and again, clothes shopping was on the list. "But what do I need now?" Susan asked. "I'm taking you dancing tomorrow night. You could wear my stuff, but I want to get you something different." "Dancing? But Dara, I don't... and I'm still..." "I'm going to teach you to dance, and what did I tell you about your period?" "I won't let it get in the way. Okay, okay, it's not as bad as I thought." "Exactly. If you're as careful as you are now, you'll never have a problem with it." Dara picked out several outfits for Susan, and let her pick out one of her own. Susan, who elected to be more daring than usual, found a black, fairly tight top and some long, tight, white designer jeans that were accentuated by black stitching. Susan thought them daring because of the fit, and the zippered legs that really made the jeans snap to her shape. "Nice choice. Those are really getting to be in style again. Let's get you some footwear to go with it." A couple of minutes later, Susan could be found in the shoe department, and a young salesman was sliding long, shiny black leather boots onto Susan's feet. "Boots?" Susan whispered to Karen. "I figured on sneakers..." "Trust me," Dara said. "I have an outfit like this. Or, I did, until my jeans wore out." Susan turned to catch the salesman's eyes following her leg up to her crotch. Embarassed, he turned red and looked away. A sudden feeling of power came over Susan, and she smiled wickedly; the salesman quickly zippered the boots and excused himself momentarily. "If I was a man, I might like this job too," Dara whispered. "Well, take a look at yourself." Susan suddenly understood why the boots worked so well here. They matched her top, and sandwiched the light jeans, drawing yet more attention to the shape of Susan's hips and legs. Even Susan could feel that the effect was powerfully sexy and defiant. "I see what you mean," Susan said. "The strange thing is, I like it!" "Good. You're developing a taste for what looks right on you." Susan and Dara turned from the mirror to again catch the salesman, who was turning red again, both staring at them and listening. The salesman's excitement derived from being this close to the formation of a particularly seductive look-- two incredible women scheming, it appeared, to make themselves even _more_ attractive. "We'll take these," Dara said. The salesman, now at a total loss for words, removed the boots and boxed them. "Thank you," was all he managed to say. Susan looked down at him, from her seated pose in the chair, as he handed her the box. Suddenly, a very sexy voice came from her; "No... thank _you_", she said, and unleashed a powerful smile. On their way to the ladies' dressing room, out of earshot of the footwear salesman, Dara couldn't help herself. "Very daring of you! I'm impressed!" "Just testing," said Susan, smiling from ear to ear. Just before entering the dressing room, both women turned around to steal a glance at the footwear department. Again, the salesman was caught; he was huddling with his coworkers, and visibly pointing in the women's direction. "Alas, too immature," Dara said. "I know. Pity," replied Susan, as the women disappeared into the dressing room. "You know, of course, if you try that with some guy and he calls you on it... You might just meet your match." "I already have... but _she_ wants me to be able to flirt," Susan said, coyly. "You could end up with your hands full." "Or something... else... full, if I'm lucky." "If I didn't know better, I'd think _I_ tought you that," Dara said, and then giggled. "Maybe you're learning too much." Noise in the next booth indicated, to their surprise, that the dressing room wasn't empty. An older woman, apparently embarassed by the conversation she was hearing, bustled herself out of the dressing area. "Oops," Susan giggled. Back outside the dressing room, and now in her own clothes, Dara showed Susan some of the outfits she had picked out. "I know your size-- Heck, I _am_ your size, so you don't have to try these on. But I'll show you something. This outfit--" Dara held up a polka-dotted dress which ended in a very short skirt-- "comes in two forms." Dara walked over to one of the racks, and pulled out a similar outfit to demonstrate. "This one is split-- you notice it's not really a 'skirt'?" "It has legs," Susan observed. "Sort of. When you have it on, you can't tell that it's not a skirt, though." Dara held the dress up. "See?" Susan nodded. "This way, no matter which way you twirl or move, nobody can see underneath." "I've noticed that before." "Right. But I've always thought it a tease. Heck, that's what short skirts are about. The tease. It fluffs around, and you'll catch people trying to get a glimpse of what you've got under there," Dara explained. "So this other style cheats, so to speak. I don't like it. So I got the regular, skirted version for you. Okay?" "I suppose..." "It's not like anybody can see anything under here anyway-- as you'll see... there are black panties that go underneath it." "Okay," Susan said. "Go for it." "That's my girl," Dara answered. Before checking out, Dara also picked up two pocketbooks for Susan, explaining that, of course, even the outfits she had with pockets-- especially the jeans-- generally didn't intend for the wearer to actually use them. Pockets in some skirts were okay, of course. Susan understood and needed no further explanation. -- @>---`---< >---'---<@ @> Karen Mitchell <@ @> LabRat@pobox.com <@ @>---`---< >---'---<@ From srcc!news!srcc.msu.su!news-service Mon Mar 03 16:49:46 1997 Received: by fudn.msk.ru (UUPC/@ v6.14g, 06Jun95) with UUCP id AA02638; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 16:49:46 +0300 (MSK) Received: by gamma.srcc.msu.su; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 14:15:32 +0300 Received: (from root@localhost) by news.gamma.ru (8.7.6/8.7.3) id OAA23376 for email@example.com; Mon, 3 Mar 1997 14:13:54 +0300 (MSK) To: firstname.lastname@example.org From: email@example.com.SPAMBUSTERS (Karen Mitchell) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg Subject: [News] Story - Evolution 21-25 of 25 Date: Sat, 01 Mar 97 10:45:29 -0600 Organization: Onramp Access, Inc. 512-322-9200 Message-ID: Reply-To: firstname.lastname@example.org (Karen Mitchell) NNTP-Posting-Host: onramp6-2.onr.com Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Ref: Gamma.RU alt.sex.stories.tg:8841 Sender: email@example.com X-Class: Big Precedence: junk Lines: 1412 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Length: 68287 Status: RO Don't forget to remove the .SPAMBUSTERS from my address before replying. This posting should end the Evolution series. Hope you've enjoyed the series. Parts 21-24 are the actual series and 25 is a comment section by the original author. I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. If this is offensive do not read - delete file. For those of us who enjoy .... enjoy! Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up with what I have now. Sorry about the forged header, but it does help keeping down on the junk mail. Karen Mitchell ==================== Evolution / 21 ==================== Dara cleared Susan's living room floor that afternoon, and started to teach her some of the many dance moves that she knew. Susan had never seen Dara dance before, and found her to be shockingly good at it. "Don't be disappointed at first," Dara explained. "I've had years of practice. But I think we have an advantage here... you've got the same body that I do. Just keep reminding yourself of that. If I can do it, so can you." Dara had herself worked up quite a bit before she finally got Susan up and started on some basics. Dara postponed her plans for going out for several days, concentrating on this training for all of the daytime hours when the downstairs neighbor was at work. Finally, Susan became reasonably acceptable at it, as she thought to herself. "I don't get why I have to be dressed up already," Susan said. "Think of it as a dress rehearsal. Look at yourself in the mirror..." Susan looked. The dress was as attractive as she thought it was; her white, medium-heeled shoes no longer felt quite as clunky to walk in. The short, provocative skirt seemed riveted to her hips; suspended from the widest part of her body. Dara had been tempted to offer Susan her black leather miniskirt for the evening, but decided that it would be a bit much for Susan's first "solo". Besides, at the place she planned to take Susan that night, it wouldn't be necessary. The clean, more mature lines of her current outfit would be perfect. Dara herself was dressed "down", uncharacteristically, in simple navy slacks and a flowery blouse, as if to not attract any attention away from her student. "That's it. Try those hips, and watch what happens." Susan swiveled her hips as Dara had taught. The dress swiveled with her, and propelled the skirt around in a little wave. "So, how does it feel to have hips?" Dara asked. "Different," Susan said. "I thought so. Your pelvis is different than a man's. It's supposed to be. The leather miniskirt doesn't do that, by the way. You'll have to give it a rehearsal as well the first time you wear it. Now try it again, faster." Susan did so, and began to learn that she had control over not only her body, but her clothing as well. She practices this for several minutes. The feeling between her legs was unusual; although she had worn skirts before, as Dara had insisted upon from time to time, she had never really paid attention to the cool, airy feeling that it was giving her, despite the opaque undergarments that still separated her from the outside world. "Okay. Let's try that last one one more time," Dara said, as she started the music. Susan followed along perfectly. Dara stood back, and merely watched. When the song ended, Dara applauded. "Good for a beginner!" "Really?" "Really." "I guess I've got a good teacher," Susan said. "The best!" Dara smiled. "Now, my friend, your lessons are over. You'll improve with experience. Time to treat the world to your talents." "Look, Dara, if you think I'm going to treat the whole world--" Dara rolled her eyes. "Susan, what I meant--" "Aaaa! Got you!" Susan laughed. "Let's go. We'll stop for dinner first." The club Dara took Susan to was Dara's favorite. Alas, Susan got little chance to flirt at all, as men seemed to queue up for her attention right away. Dara slowly sidled away, finding a friend that she knew as a "regular" here, and watched Susan from a distance. Susan seemed to be doing very well all by herself; she seemed enamored of herself as several men surrounded her, eager to talk to this "new" girl. Dara, who distracted herself from her friend's attention to keep an eye on Susan, could see that Susan was smiling in much of the coy, feminine way she had done with the shoe salesman. She was obviously enjoying herself. As time went on, still having yet to reach the dance floor, Susan managed to whittle the contenders down a bit. Finally, she allowed one man to buy her a drink. Glancing Dara's way, she got an approving nod in return. It wasn't much longer before Susan got to the dance floor, where she did perfectly well. She still had the look of being a bit unsure of herself at times, and wasn't quite as splashy as Dara was, but attracted quite a bit of attention nevertheless. Dara finally caught up with her on the dance floor, where Susan had something important to say. "I know that guy," she said, pointing to someone at one of the tables. "One of George's best friends. I don't know what to do..." "This isn't the place. He won't recognize you. Call him later if you want." "Okay," Susan said. "How are you doing? I see you've gotten someone's attention..." "Yes. His name's Ken." "I know." "You know?" "I know lots of the people here. He's a nice guy." "So what do I do?" "Whatever you want! Solo, remember? Just have a good time!" She returned to the man who she had been with for the last half-hour. They were there until the club was ready to close. Dara was sitting at the bar alone, talking to the bartender, a good friend of hers, as Susan was ready to leave-- with the same man. Susan turned and waved to Dara as they were ready to exit. Dara waved back. "Good luck," she whispered to herself. "I'll miss you." "I've never seen her before. A friend of yours, Dara?" the bartender asked. Dara had no enthusiasm at all. "Yeah." "She's really hot. Had all the guys after her tonight." "I know," Dara said. The bartender left her to take a tray of empties from one of the waiters. Dara's expression was blank, and she barely breathed the words as she stared at the door. "I know. I made her that way." Susan found herself encountering many problems, all of a sudden; virtually every question that Ken asked, in his attempts to make small talk, had an answer she couldn't say; after all, the biggest event in her life was still a secret. She decided to be as truthful as possible, recasting George's life as her own as far as where she worked, where she lived, and so on. She nearly choked on the question of whether or not she lived alone, but finally mentioned that she had a female roommate. She knew she couldn't say who it was, however. It was interesting to Susan, the way that she could make out Ken's thought processes as if they were her own, simply by mentally putting George in his place. The ride in the car seemed somewhat frustrating to him, since he couldn't look at her, or touch her, and yet needed to keep her interest level up. Susan knew it as well-- this idle time between the excitement and sensual fury of the club, music, and dance floor, and between the obvious excitement of being alone in Ken's apartment, was the most likely for a female guest to "come to her senses" and change her mind about going through with the whole thing. A shock wave seemed to pass through Susan as she realized why this was the case; once at Ken's, it was nearly inevitable that she'd end up in his bed, and would soon feel his yet-unseen penis penetrate her soft vagina. Neighbors would see her coming in, and would know why, and would talk about it. She would submit to having sex with a near stranger, for what might very well turn out to be a one-night stand. And what if it wasn't? Susan nearly "came to her senses" right then and there. Ultimately, though, she didn't. She'd go through with it-- after all, it was the final step in her training, at least as Dara described it. Ken was still being a perfect gentleman, so she had no grounds to "bail out" on that account, although she suddenly realized that she was sending those waves of indecision quite clearly, and this was distressing him. She looked at him. It seemed to trouble him very much that she seemed so skittish; she remembered what that felt like on George's first date with Karen, so Susan knew the feeling well. Suddenly much seemed to snap into place; Ken was so scared of having things go wrong because he wanted Susan so much. So much! And Susan had had her pick of some very attractive guys tonight; and Ken was her choice. And so it would be. She had sent many guys away who would end up disappointed and, likely, alone tonight. But it was her-- her body, her scent, her personality, her complex femininity that was making it all possible. She'd never gotten a mate this easily in her past life. A feeling of immense power grew within her again, centering silently on that part of her which rested between her legs. An idea sprouted. Ken was surprised when Susan, now at his apartment, seemed to be agreeable to most everything, and wasn't insistent on having yet another drink or a long round of small talk. If anything, she seemed to be poised to pounce on him. And so it happened. Ken was attacked on his very own couch, Susan on top of him in an instant, her warm tongue soon probing its way into his mouth. To Susan, the rationale was simple. Stay in control. Even on this, her long-awaited and long-feared "solo", she'd be no mere subject to Ken's affections; she'd run the show and show him things he'd never seen before. The idea, born of the sensation of power she had felt earlier, seemed perfect. She'd be the woman that George would have wanted for such an event; strong, passionate, insatiable, inventive, and energetic. This wasn't George's model for the ideal life partner, of course, but for a sex partner-- perfect. With one hand, Susan explored, right through Ken's slacks, what he held in store for her. He had been taken off guard, and she'd keep him that way. The experience was going to happen on her terms, if at all. That was the secret. When Susan finally got up, Ken led the way to the bedroom, still fully dressed, and Susan strutted in after him. The bed hadn't been made, although from the looks of things he had slept alone the previous night and didn't expect company tonight. Good. She stepped around the corner of the bed, exploring the room to her satisfaction, and something caught the heel of her shoe. Ken looked nervous. Susan knelt down to look. Secured to the frame of the bed, and lying underneath the corner of the bed on the floor, was a length of wide yarn with loops in one end. The purpose was obvious. Proceeding to the other corner at the foot of the bed, she found a similar length of yarn tucked up between the frame and box spring; she pulled this free. Ken was trying to explain. He was nervous; a simple accident led to a discovery he hadn't planned on happening. Susan obliterated the worry by holding up the loop of yarn and smiling wickedly at him. She put the loop around her wrist, and tugged the loop tight. It was snug, but the yarn held no promise of cutting off her circulation. Good. "Kinky," she said. Her own voice, again powerfully seductive, amused her. "I like it." Ken hadn't recovered yet, and was still trying to explain it away. "Just an experiment, really... something I read once... We don't have to..." "So, you've tied people up with this?" Susan said, grinning. "Was it fun? Seems like it would be." Again, Susan flashed back to the last time she'd been secured like this; on that floor under Marcy and Dara. She remembered how George had felt; helpless, and uncontrollably excited. Ken couldn't lie. "Yes--" Susan cut him off. "Have you ever been tied up yourself?" She unfastened the loop from her wrist and dropped it on the bed. "Me? No, I've only--" "Then I think you have a new experience coming your way. Why don't you undress and show me what you've got?" Ken loosened his collar. The idea excited him. Good. Susan, still fully dressed, went to the head of the bed, where, as expected, two more lengths of yarn could be found. She extracted them and dropped the loop-ends on top of the bed. Ken dropped his clothes in seconds, and stood before Susan in all his naked glory. Realizing that she didn't want to make this look like a tie-up-grab-the-money-and-run attempt that she had seen on the movies, and wanting to ease his likely fears in this regard, she sat on the bed and removed her shoes, and then, standing, reached under her skirt and pulled down her underwear, removing her pantyhose. She put her arms behind her back to unfasten her dress. "Lie down," she commanded. Ken rushed into the bed, posthaste. Susan circled the bed, and fastened Ken into it with the yarn loops. It immobilized him quite well. She returned to the foot of the bed, seriously contemplating for just a moment simply taking him right now without undressing any further at all. It was one of those advantages of wearing a skirt. But, no, that had three disadvantages; first, it wasn't fair. Second, she couldn't see the reaction of him to the view of her body, and she ached to see how she could affect him that way. Finally, she'd likely get all sweaty in the only clothes she had to go home with. She stood at the foot of the bed, and slowly teased away her clothing. Shoulders first, then her chest; this elicited not so much as a sound, but a deep sigh from Ken. Also good. She grabbed the skirt's waistband and slid the whole assembly over her head; it was the only way this particular skirt came off. Last was her bra, which unclasped in front as most of her bras did. She peeled it away from her breasts; another gasp from Ken. Susan was already wet between the legs; Ken was already erect without her having so much as touched him. She knelt down again to retrieve her pocketbook, and produced a condom from it. She didn't need it, of course, since she hadn't ovulated since her period (which thankfully ended today). However, Ken didn't know that. George's biggest fear, when tied up, was that his captors planned to impregnate themselves; Susan respected that fear, didn't need it for what she planned, and wanted not to stretch Ken's trust any further. Again, she felt powerful. If she was fertile, Ken would be powerless to prevent Susan from impregnating herself. And he had voluntarily allowed himself into this position. Susan figured that George never would have done such a thing... voluntarily. It was obvious that, upon occasion, it was easy for a man's hormones to override his intellect. She eliminated the fear when she fitted the condom onto Ken's waiting, lonely penis. Long, slender fingers first touched Ken's toes, and started sliding their way up his feet, over the yarn, up his legs. Susan realized that she had made one mistake already-- she would have taken a lick on his penis if she hadn't already protected him. So she simply breathed on it; and even the heat from her breath made it grow before her eyes. One of her increasingly long, painted fingernails slid smoothly over him. Her legs were up on the bed now, and she scrambled up further on the bed. She hung her body down over his, slowing dragging her nipples up across his abdomen, and chest. He moaned in anticipation as they approached his head, and she indeed "steered" to one side; her breast and nipple heading for his mouth. One it got there, he sucked it in. The feeling was incredible. Susan collapsed down onto the bed, pressing her right breast into Ken's face, and moaned herself. He couldn't get enough, and neither could she; she rubbed around, and around. Ken wanted his hands free more than anything, to wrap those strong arms around Susan's body, but Susan was in no condition to free him. After several minutes she moved sideways, stealing her nipple away from him and offering him the other in return. One knee brushed between his legs. Susan started to feel her control come back to her. She wanted attention paid to her nether region now, and time came to take advantage of Ken's bondage. "You've had enough," she whispered. "I should be teasing you, not just satisfying you." She pulled her left nipple, slowly, up, up, and out of his reach. He craned his neck as far as it could go before collapsing onto the bed. "I've got something to show you," she told him. "I hope you like it." Her body went back to sliding up against his. Her navel passed his eyes, and then a furry patch of pubic hair reached his chin. Ken was panting; excited beyond control, and now fully under the spell of Susan's scent. Susan smiled wickedly again, knowing full well what the source of his excitement was. Finally she was up on her knees, and slowly offering herself to his tongue. She sat on his face, paying heed to Dara's earlier warning about not suffocating him, but surrounding him nonetheless. The power began to take over; the intensity building in her vagina, her clitoris extended. She came all over him; surrounded and engulfed him in her orgasm. Knowing what was happening, Ken nearly exploded, himself, on the spot. Susan was exhausted, and turned around to lean up against Ken's headboard, with his head between her legs. Her secretions slowly moistened his hair as she tried to recover her breath, and her control. It had been more of a simple physical release, than the complete, passionate explosion that Dara had given her, but tiring nonetheless. Susan was, again, surprised at the speed of her recovery; Ken was panting as well, but hadn't reached orgasm yet. Susan found herself ready to finish him off, and was back on her hands and knees, heading down towards Ken's pelvis, when he spoke to her. A drop of her moisture fell to his lips. Ken seemed very serious. "You're wet, aren't you?" "Of course. You think you'd be the one to know, given what you just did to me..." "No. I mean... _wet_." Susan stopped in her tracks, sighed and sat up on her knees, still straddling Ken's head. "What makes you think that?" Susan asked. "Just a guess," Ken answered. "Are you?" "Forty percent of all women are, Ken. Does it bother you?" His question answered, Ken contemplated the situation rather than answering Susan's follow-up. He was still very aroused, as Susan could see. "Well?" "Umm... well, I guess not... It's just that you could..." Susan understood. "Oh, I see... And yes, you're right. I can see what's on your mind. If I were to pee right now..." Ken nodded. Susan couldn't see that, but she felt it with her legs. Again, his excitement level felt very high. "And you're powerless to prevent it, aren't you, Ken? You're looking straight up and imagining that bladderful of urine that I have inside me right now, Ken... right over your face, isn't it? You were just licking the very opening that with the slightest urge might happen to spill all over you..." Ken tested his bonds. Susan was sure that he could break them if he really wanted to; the yarn was tied off to a stamped metal bed frame that would easily cut through it given enough stress. He was enjoying being helpless; he didn't really want to be free at all. Susan's voice became cute and sexy. "Oh, Ken, I didn't know. But I suppose that if I really had to go to the bathroom right now..." Ken moaned a bit. Susan could see his penis stretch inside its sheath. This exactly is what he wanted. She looked down at him. "Oh, yes, Ken... You feel my power now. Your entire life is under the control of my pussy. Any second now, a long, beautiful golden stream could come out of me, and you can't do anything to stop it." Ken's thrashing increased. Susan realized that she hadn't given him a safeword; but if he made any serious indication that he really wanted to end this, she'd honor it. She felt bad for a moment that she really was "wet"; if not, she'd be able to complete the fantasy and actually pee on him. "Oh, yes, Ken, you really make me want to... Or, perhaps, I should just set my breasts loose on you. Just a little bit longer, and then I could have your whole body inside me, Ken..." "No... No..." Ken whispered, losing himself in the fantasy that Susan was spinning. "I could suck you right into that pussy you're looking at, Ken. You'd be inside me forever. Does that worry you? It should." Ken was nearing orgasm. Susan's time was limited. He thrashed all the more, aching for something to touch him, but still being reasonably careful to not actually break free. "Oh, Ken, you shouldn't wiggle like that when I have a full bladder... I might not be able to hold it... Oh, no, here it comes... It's coming, Ken! Oh, yes... I'm peeing... Ooooh..." Susan, who was prevented from losing herself in the fantasy by the actual need to prevent doing what she was threatening, was giggling to herself instead. Here, under her body, was a male that _would_ actually be affected the way that Susan was play-threatening to do. A fantasy that could easily become real life; but Susan could never do such a thing on such a spontaneous whim. Ken's brain saw the image clearly, though; and could feel the urine splashing down on him even now. Fortunately for him, the real thing had been flushed away an hour ago inside the ladies' room at the club. Susan swiveled around, aiming her vagina for Ken's penis. She sat upright on him, and it was inside of her. She continued the fantasy. "Oh, no, Ken... I'm such a bad girl... I've wet all over you! Look, you're covered in pee! Now you'll end up inside me at..." Ken's orgasm interrupted Susan's monologue. It was violent, tremendously exciting, and lifted Susan clear off the bed for a moment. She had a second orgasm shortly thereafter, and lay down on top of him. Realizing that, in order to maintain any effectiveness of the condom, he'd have to leave her body right away, she held the base of his penis and condom, and lifted herself from him. She hadn't reached orgasm, but was exhausted. She untied only his arms, so he could hold her; and lay down next to him." "You are really 'wet', aren't you," Ken said to her. Susan's voice was different again; it was normal. Friendly, honest, but not sexual. "Yes, Ken, I am. That's why I couldn't really pee on you. Besides, your mattress would have been soaked." "Thanks," said Ken. Susan tried not to giggle at the thought, but did anyway. "You should have seen the look on your face, Ken. Priceless." "Well, you were _good_," Ken said. "I've never felt like that before. So helpless." "And it makes me feel so... powerful. It's wonderful to be a woman, Ken. You should try it sometime." "Maybe I shall, Susan. Maybe I shall." In moments both were asleep. ==================== Evolution / 22 ==================== Susan spooned with Ken, her body tucked in front of him, his left arm over her, and his hand gently held her right breast. She waited for the sleep to come; but it didn't. Her mind was racing; and as the minutes ticked by, her situation seemed all the more strange and dangerous. She thought of what she had been-- a man, working at a commercial software firm, unattached and lonely, but fairly happy with himself nonetheless. Now there was a woman, jobless but with much potential, laying naked in bed with a man who had brought her home on the first date. That woman was her. Between her legs was a wet, somewhat tired vagina; beyond that lay a complete, functional uterus that had finally completed its first and only menstrual cycle so far; and just inches beyond, inside her belly and below her navel, were two ovaries filled with eggs; eggs which, according to Jeannette Carlson, were as genetically perfect as might be expected, and certainly capable of starting new life. Inches away from her vaginal entrance, nestled between her legs, was the damp sexual organ of a man who could, easily, be her partner in starting that new life. She felt him; soft, protected, ever so pleased to be held between her own legs. She had, at one point, held the balance of the entire world between those legs; the entire fruit of fifteen years' effort, and the ultimate result of a technology that had come close, not long before, of destroying the world. By releasing that fruit from her body, and granting the powers to those who had granted them to her, she had set free a demon; a whirlwind of change and fear; the probable end of an era of humanity-- the era that her grandchildren might not know except from historical records-- the era when there were once two different sexes of humans walking the planet. By a single act she had condemned not the men of the current world-- the majority of whom would be content to remain as they were. No, she had condemned humanity itself to a fate it may not have been prepared for, and may not have wanted; that of eternal, and complete, femininity. The scientists would try to reverse the process, perhaps, but the technology, having served its purpose, was long gone. Destroyed in a quiet celebration by the founders of this movement, after they determined that their project was a success, there would be nothing to steal, nothing to leak, no secrets to be purloined by an anxious government seeking to maintain the status quo, or the enemy seeking to reinvent the destruction that threatened the world decades earlier. Now, the women were, as much as possible, harmless. Their creation had been set free and was now multiplying across the globe on its own power. Susan tightened her bladder for a moment. She had been the one to set that creation free. Perhaps, if she had known, she would not have cooperated; she could have run, taken her own life, and taken this... thing with her to the grave. Instead, she had sprayed her potion of irreversible change on the world without a second thought. "You're being too harsh," she told herself. For all she knew, there were other subjects primed and waiting to go, loaded with the same "vaccine" or perhaps other experimental variants of it. George had simply been in the right place, with the right stuff, at the right time. The women were smart; they weren't likely to have trusted just a single person-- and a man, at that, with all of their efforts. But Susan had been trustworthy. She did what they told her to, and now it was far too late for anyone to stop. Fear. Change. Evolution. Progress. And, perhaps, hope. Maybe they were right. For her own conscience, she hoped so. Susan squeezed Ken's penis with her legs, suddenly thankful to have him there after all. He was a sign of... what used to be, perhaps. But here he was, nearly asleep, and entirely unconcerned that he was, at least to Susan, the last of his kind. Caring, strong, and unafraid. He was not like she was. She was very afraid. Afraid for her own future, life in a world that would be changing before her eyes. She knew that Ken was not for her, at least right now; she wasn't ready for it. Somewhere out in the world was her real lover; a woman who had caused nearly all of these changes to happen; who had betrayed George's original sexuality in favor of her own. A woman that, somehow, Susan was committed to. And a woman that she was in love with, and even now, concerned about. Ken finally stirred from his sleep. Susan felt his penis grow between her legs, and his hand began to fondle her breasts. She enjoyed the caressing, and soon turned on her back, allowing Ken to mount her. He did so without another word. She said nothing about his apparent lapse of birth-control procedure; apparently, he trusted her, and she knew there was no concern. She allowed, or even encouraged herself to get lost in the passion; to feel his pleasure; his pure animal nature, as he poured his energy into her. She clenched him tight; and triggered his climax with hers. She felt the moisture enter her, and, as they rolled back to their sides, sensed it slowly leaving, dripping onto the sheet underneath. Finally, the calmness returned to her. She was soothed, silky, and relaxed-- and before long, asleep. It was three days before Dara showed up at Susan's door. She walked in and said nothing. Susan jumped up. "Dara! Where have you been? I've been worried about you!" "Oh, I went to visit Karen and the gang for a while. I didn't want to get in the way." "Oh," said Susan. "So what happened to Ken?" "He's at work, I suppose." Susan took a step back. "My God, I can't believe it. You're jealous!" Dara was furious, and screamed at Susan for the first time. "Don't _ever_ say that to me! Everything you are, every bit about you, even your own sex is only this way thanks to me!" Susan, realizing that neighbors could easily overhear Dara's ranting, tried to quiet her. It didn't work. "And I'm _sorry_ if I made you do things you didn't want to do, or made you into more of a _woman_ than you deserved to be..." Susan got caught up herself, and now screamed back. "Deserved to be? Deserved to be? What makes you think that you have the right..." "Well, I can see that _you've_ learned plenty," Dara said. She wheeled around and headed for the door. Susan caught her by the shoulders and stopped her. She was panting. "Dara..." "What??" "I was... only trying to do what you wanted. It was fun, yes, but he wasn't ready for..." Dara still faced the door. "Big surprise there," she said. "I could have told you that." Susan took her hands from Dara's shoulders, placing them at her hips. "You've slept with him," she said. Dara turned around. Susan repeated the question. "You've slept with him, haven't you?" "Actually, Susan, you're wrong. Okay, I confess. I've slept with everyone on the planet EXCEPT one Mr. Kenneth Jamison! I'm sorry to disappoint you!" "Dara, that's not what I meant." "But you're so _worried_ about who he's slept with. A little jealous yourself, huh?" Susan grabbed Dara by the shoulders. "Look, Dara, I did it for _you_. After all the things you told me, I did it for _you_." "You sure did it _well_," Dara said. "You didn't waste any time." "I'm sorry. I had a purpose, so when I felt myself in the right situation, I let myself get excited. That's what makes all the seductiveness come out. But I wasn't doing it for myself, can't you understand? I was doing it for you... because... I love you." Susan burst into tears and ran for the bedroom, where she landed face down in one of the pillows. Dara stood in the bedroom's doorway. "So what about Ken?" Dara asked, still defiant. "It's _over_, okay?" "You mean he dumped you after two days?" "No." "Holy cow! You dumped him. You slept with him for two nights and dumped him!" Susan's crying intensified. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... I felt so mean, so cruel... I told him everything. Including that I couldn't have him." "But why..." "And for another _woman_... For you, Dara, for you. Okay?" "My God, Susan... Are you still friends?" "I don't know. Why don't _you_ ask him?" Dara came over and sat on the bed next to Susan, and rubbed her back. "I'm sorry. I think I made the biggest mistake of my life asking you to be like me. Perhaps, I should be a bit more like you." Susan's crying slowly abated. "I love you, Susan. I'm sorry I hurt you. We'll make it up to Ken. He'll be alright, I'm sure." Susan turned around, but still didn't say anything. "I want to live with you. I want you to be mine. And... no matter how different it seems, I'm ready to be yours." Susan sat up and put her arms around Dara. "Forever, Susan. This is it." "Oh, Dara..." Half an hour passed with both women still in this position. "We can't have children, you know," Susan said. "We're too similar." "Inbreeding, I know. But I've thought about it. It would be irresponsible of me to create brand new children, when there are so many men out there praying for someone to... bring them along, as we promised to do." "That's how I've felt. We have an obligation," Susan said. "That doesn't stop us from being together. We can raise our 'kids' together." Susan unclenched Dara, and lay on her back, looking at her partner and friend. "You know..." "What?" "I remember hating you so much... I remember thinking how you were simply teasing me into putting that tire in that van; then when I found myself kidnapped, tied up, and you laughing about it, I positively told myself that I'd do everything I could to hurt you. But even before you undressed in front of me, I felt so... wished so... that I'd get to touch your body. For a short interval, I was even telling myself that you were going to rape me, and I chastised myself for looking _forward_ to it. Then, when I found you were both going to piss on me, not have sex with me, and I was _furious_." "I remember." "Of course. I'm sorry... I'd never have wanted to hurt you, but..." "I understand. We didn't expect you to cooperate, of course." "Then I got that one hand free, and..." "I remember. My ankle hurt for days. In fact, you had me so mad..." "Oh?" Susan asked, impressed that this conversation was going so well. "Let's just say you're lucky I only peed on you." "Oh." Dara smiled. "It's hard to tell when you're just teasing me," Susan said, smiling herself. Dara took Susan's hands. "_This_ I'm not teasing about," she said, and reached over, pulling Susan to her. They kissed; again, Susan felt her insides melt. ==================== Evolution / 23 ==================== Nearly five and a half months passed in the blink of an eye. The summer was as exciting as Susan could have hoped for; the feeling of walking, at Dara's side, down the beach wearing the world's sexiest swimsuit was all that she had hoped for. They played with men a few times, but could never seem to get Karen interested in more than a short visit, now that she considered Dara and Susan to be a "couple". Now, Dara and Susan were, for the moment, alone at Karen's side, waiting for the big event. Karen's contractions had subsided momentarily; the others who had been in the room left for a moment. "So, all in all, things have been going well," Dara was reporting. "Susan here's been a big hit at the seminars. Our book has been doing very well-- even though we only get three percent, it's been enough to buy our new house. The rest of the profits have gone to fund operations here. And Susan's even been considering being on some talk shows." "Oh no, not that," Karen answered, remembering Lisa's disastrous episode. "Actually I think things will be quite different now. I'm not going so they can grill me on the ethics of it, but simply because I can tell them what the 'other side' is really like, now that the world knows my history." Another contraction started. Karen's breasts had swelled a bit beyond their normal size, Susan noted. She was undoubtedly lactating already. This time the milk's effect would be different. "She's coming," groaned Karen. "It's time..." "Already?" said Dara. It wasn't quite so obvious whether it was Karen's new reproductive system, or perhaps the effects of her upright position in the birthing chair, that was making it so easy and fast for her. Susan looked at Karen, and coached her. "Okay. Smooth, like we learned. Keep your breathing up." "Oooh," said Karen. Susan startled; while not watching, Dara had left to retrieve the others. She moved around between Karen's legs. Already, she could see Karen's vagina beginning to bulge; her daughter's head was well- positioned in the birth canal, and was ready to emerge. Karen felt the baby traveling, ever so gently, towards the outside; the emotional, mental connection she had so cherished was fading, as baby and mother assumed the same purpose: separation. Karen's "daughter" felt everything as well; the warm, soft muscles around her now exposed their hidden strength and power; and guided her very firmly and gently through Karen's birth canal. It seemed, to her, in her barely-conscious state, like a very long trip; she could feel herself moving, and the passage in front of her expand, but it seemed to be a long way to the outside. She and Karen had "discussed" this event quite a bit in the last couple of weeks; both were excited by it; and Karen's daughter, who knew very well that she now had the same reproductive power that Karen did, was anxious to be in Karen's place someday. Again, a short break. Still no Dara or others. "You still haven't told me the name." "Phoenix," said Karen. "Not 'Danielle?'" Susan mused. "No. It's what she wanted; detachment from her old..." Karen was cut off by the next contraction. Her birth canal opened, and the baby's head was now visible. Karen slowly started to push the baby out of herself. It was wonderful. The baby's head was almost completely visible. A short breather here seemed all too short. The next breath, all she got in was the words: "Very symbolic." "Of course," whispered Susan, who now held still with her hands between Karen's legs. The view, from where Susan stood, amazed her; Karen's reproductive opening, normally so small and "invisible" between her legs, was huge. Her legs were spread very far apart, like no man could do; and Karen's enlarged opening seemed to take up the entire area, larger than any other single feature of Karen's body; symbolic of her current purpose in life. What was normally small enough for... well, a man's penis... was, for the second time, large enough for a small human being to pass through. Comfortably, in fact. Karen had no need for pain medication. Karen started to push again. "The first one," Susan whispered, as Karen began to deliver the baby. The miracle of the event, the power that Karen's body had, overwhelmed Susan for the second time. She heard the steps in the hallway, and finally people at the door. But it was too late. Susan, covered in Karen's blood and other secretions, was holding the baby. "Congratulations, it's a boy!" she said. "What??" said Karen and Jeannette Carlson, together. "Let me see," demanded Karen. "Just kidding! Gosh!" announced Susan, smiling, as she transferred the newborn infant into Karen's arms. "You and Dara... _really_..." Karen complained. "Welcome back," she said to her daughter. The baby, at the moment, was indistinguishable from a normal baby girl. It was a minute or two before Phoenix started to breathe on her own. With respiration well established, Jeannette Carlson applied the clamps to the umbelical cord, and offered the honor of the clipper to Susan. In just a few more minutes, contractions started again, and Karen easily delivered the placenta. Susan was amazed at how quickly Karen's body seemed to return to normal; though she would be swollen and a bit sore for at least a week, her abdominal muscles were already tightening. A little exercise, and she'd be back to her normal self. Jeannette carefully bathed the baby, and Karen's body, and then helped ease Karen down out of the birthing chair and into bed. The baby was already nursing when Jeannette asked the others, including Susan and Dara, to leave her alone for a while. Karen was entirely immersed in her daughter, and didn't turn as the others tiptoed out. "You're a mess," Dara told Susan. "Karen really 'got you' good." Susan looked. "Oooh. I better go clean up." With that done as best as possible, Dara turned to Susan. "Okay, now, this is it. Right?" Susan swallowed hard. "I didn't think it'd be here so soon. But, you're right. No chickening out." "We said... right after Karen's daughter was re-born. I'm ready if you are." Dara and Susan both took a deep breath and headed for the complex' library. They both sat at the same terminal. "This is the best way for us to get started," Dara said, as though she was trying to assure herself of that fact. "And, indeed, if your... or George's... friends are in here, we'll find them." Being inside the complex had one nice privilege here; the ability to peruse the entire list of anxiously-awaiting candidates-- name, address, phone number, desires and wishes, and a personal statement from each on why he (or she) was interested in finding a partner for the reversing process. Each had been prequalified by a group of women in the field, who advised each of the risks and legal requirements, including the fact that their partn er might not be able to, or decide not to, grant them a new body. There was no list of pending volunteers to host the process; they were scarce compared to the list that Dara and Susan now viewed, and all could pick a person from this list right away. Outside the complex, access to the list was severely restricted for privacy reasons-- you couldn't look someone up by name, and couldn't view all the information that the women now saw. Thousands of desperate people pleaded their cases to those who would listen; people with handicaps or defects that wanted a new, more functional body; scores of people who considered themselves women trapped in men's bodies, and many others that wanted something that medical science could not offer. "I hope they all get it someday," Dara said. "Some look so sad." "Once news of Karen's success with Phoenix spreads, there'll be more volunteers, I bet. Remember Donna? She should be due pretty soon herself." "Probably more people on the list, though, as well." "Perhaps." Dara scanned one of the entries. "Ah! Good for you, Cathryn..." "Who's Cathryn?" "A girl I studied with in elementary school and high school. She was paralyzed since birth from the waist down. Her dream was to be able to walk on the beach someday and feel the sand between her toes." Susan peered at the display. "She found a host, I see." "Yes, she's already gone. One of my best friends from back then, too. I'll have to look her up and see how things are going. I'd like to be with her when she finally gets to that beach. Oh well." Dara flipped through the display a bit more, and stopped it again. "Here he is. I _thought_ he'd be on the list." She tapped a button to hardcopy the entry. "Won't he be surprised to hear from _you_," Susan said, smiling. "Don't I know it. I'm too excited. Get yours and you can go first." Susan tried the names of George's old friends. None were on the list; none ready for the transformation. It made some sense, of course. They were, like George had been, in the prime of their lives, and were in no hurry to be converted-- especially with the soon-to-be- increasing female:male ratio that they expected. But one name she typed in was there. The story hit home; it was a man who described how a two-day encounter with a special woman made him realize something that he wanted, and was now ready for. The woman had left him with no phone number, no way to reach her. Although he could have used various contacts to, perhaps, track her down, he felt that she must have not wanted to see him again, and it was better to leave her alone. Susan printed this entry and closed the file. Dara sat next to the phone. "You go first, Susan. I'm too nervous. I don't know what I'll say; how to start. It'll be great; both of us carrying other people inside of us; there to support each other. I still think we can convince Karen to join us; she's been in this windowless place long enough. We can watch each other's daughters, help each other out..." Susan, who didn't get wrapped up in Dara's conversation, went to the phone and picked it up. Reading a number off of the printout, she dialed. She took a deep breath and held the phone to her ear. A long pause ensued. Possible opening phrases flashed through Dara's head: "Congratulations! You've been selected..." Finally, a man answered the phone. Susan took another deep breath. "Ken, it's Susan," she said. ==================== Evolution / 24 ==================== September 12, 2035. Nearly ten years of political turmoil and unrest seem to have passed as if they were yesterday's news. Its work long done, the underground complex at 340 Industrial Street has had no permanent occupants for years; it is opened to the public, as a kind of museum, from ten to four each weekday. Many of the original inhabitants have been working as counselors, teaching the now well- established seminars, or working on social treatises, papers, and journals on how their previous efforts have changed the world. Some of the more optimistic views of the women in that complex have come to pass; violence, at least on a world-wide scale, has not occurred, though there have been several disorganized attempts to bomb the underground complex, probably out of rage from the confused males who just can't seem to understand what's going on. Fortunately, the country's leaders, even though male themselves, had kept their cool through the first part of the "crisis"; their advisors had told them, as the women had projected, that it was futile to fight, as there was no one target to fight against. Plenty of legislation had been passed in ten years; much of it hotly debated and highly controversial. Laws passed to prevent genetic experimentation, on the scale that the women had done, were now used by the women to abort research into reversing the evolutionary change the world was facing. This led to many more legal battles, but the fights were getting tougher and tougher for the remaining men, as more women were being elected to office on all levels. Ironically, the country's first woman president hadn't entered office until the current term, as the last two presidents had shown themselves to be very supportive of both sides. Now, however, nobody doubted that the shift of power would take place; already there were four female justices on the Supreme Court, the appointments having been made during the last President's successful bid for re-election. Some of the statistics hadn't changed much in ten years; about four of every five children born, worldwide, were female, as sixty percent of the adult women were "wet". Over the decade, the numbers had slowly approached this percentage, and it appeared that the spread of the new programming had run its course; everyone who wanted the new powers already had them. The projections were for a change of around one additional percent per year, until the girls who were now just ten years old began to enter the adult population and started having their own children. About twenty-five percent of the male population was seeking to be reborn. Nine percent had already done it. Most of those on the List claimed worry over their physical age as a reason for wanting it done; and the pressure was increasing. Many men sought after "dry" women, to have a chance at bearing male children. A controversial urine test for the new capabilities had been released and withdrawn by the company which created it, for fear of boycotting of its other products. Most women were honest about their own status, however; but these "dry" women were becoming harder and harder to find; many men thus finally came to terms with the concept that they'd only be having daughters. Society was being slow, as usual, to accept the concept of families with two female parents. Eventually, however, it would have to. Predictions were that, as the number of men in the population began to drop, that an increasing number of the remaining ones would seek conversion-- perhaps in another fifteen years or so. As they aged, the appeal of "starting over" in a new body would have tremendous appeal. By the end of the twenty-first century, their numbers would be inconsequential. They were also beginning to find that it was becoming more and more difficult to adapt to a world that was increasingly designed for members of the other sex. Susan had some problem with this; she felt that some women at the extremes, including some that she had come to know quite well, were all too ready to dismiss these men as unimportant, as a curiosity instead of as fellow humans. She couldn't make that leap. Surely, their bodies were different, but the people inside were just as real as she was. Some women didn't share the idealistic view of "unification", and instead saw what was happening as the climax of the battle of the sexes, despite Lisa's memorable speech and all the rhetoric which followed. Fortunately for the planet, the simulations of biological progress had been quite accurate. There were predictable problems that could not have been overcome easily given the technology of the time-- some women who planned to convert a friend would find themselves unable to complete the task; the mechanism of reproduction, though clearly better than their ancestors had it, was still not perfect. In all but one tragic case so far, when this happened, it left the host and her target complete, but with a single body between them. There had been some early hope that two people unified in this manner would be able to separate by "normal" reproduction, but this turned out to be nearly impossible-- a new human created "from scratch", so to speak, was very much a normal baby; free of any history, past memories, and such. As suspected, a "new" baby had not the mechanism to recapture its personality from the mother. Little of this mattered to Susan now; her destiny had been set, for the most part, ten years ago. She now sat on the porch of the house where she and Dara had lived for the last ten years; and where Karen had also resided for nine-and-a-half. Susan's only "daughter", Miri, and both of Dara's "children", were inside the house, reading. Phoenix and Sam, Karen's two daughters, were out shopping; Karen was at work. Taking care of someone who had been reborn in this manner was an entirely new experience for all involved. In some ways, it depressed both Susan and Dara a bit, for these children were not children at all. Miri, and Dara's older "daughter", had the appearance of teenagers, but had the wisdom of nearly forty years. They had needed serious supervision in only the first year when their bodies were unable to handle their own needs. Even during this time, they grew at at accelerated rate, which explained the fact that the nine-year-old Miri easily looked like a teenager, and in fact was now entering puberty-- her first as a girl. She, as her "mother", found it fascinating and frustrating simultaneously. Miri, like the others, enjoyed an interesting life; she had the freedom of a child, the responsibilities of a child, but the capacities of an adult. This certainly made Susan's job easier than it would be to raise a real baby, but much of the excitement of being a parent-- the nurturing, teaching, sharing of a child's first experience-- was not to be had. Miri and the others were very independent from their second year on; and, in fact, Susan and Dara had accepted that they could have left "home" at any time. They remained, for the time being, for only one reason-- society was still ill-equipped to deal with them, making even the task of finding work difficult. Miri made the reasonable assumption that few people would electively choose a young teenage girl-- even if they could understand the concept-- as their oral surgeon. She was working at maintaining her knowledge and skills, and eventually would reenter the business. The next generation wouldn't have this problem; and it would be accepted to see people of all ages doing all sorts of things, as long as their physical skill was up to it. Some sociologists had predicted this time-- the first ten to fifteen years after rebirth, would come to be a kind of sabbatical-- where individuals could explore, or reexamine, their own future; where people would not be held to the "rat race" most adults were chained to, but were free to perform research, to write, to learn, and to have fun; in other words, the life that Miri had right now. Susan had been very excited to have someone else inside her body; the sensation and the experience was something that she could have only imagined, and couldn't describe; the feeling of having a tiny human pass into, and, eventually, out of her body was much like she had hoped. With five "children" already in this one house, none of her friends on the List, and plenty of other things eating at her time, including the start of her own software business, however, she had opted not to host a second conversion when Dara did. Ten years seemed to show themselves more on Karen and Dara now than they did on Susan, who was physically nearly fifteen years younger-- twenty-eight, now-- than the other two. It was no secret that Dara's age bothered her; she had always had the body and personality of a "young" woman, and didn't feel comfortable aging. She had been talking increasingly of being reversed herself one day; Susan and Karen emphatically explained that she didn't need it. One good thing about having Karen around, Susan felt, is that some of the affection they had once felt for each other had returned. Karen had finally been convinced to move in for purely practical reasons; but that which had pulled them apart-- Karen's involvement with Daniel-- now held them together as they shared the same experience. Susan had treated both of her friends, and admitted lovers, increasingly as equals as it became apparent that they all needed each other, though her physical relationship with Dara was still more substantial than anything she had with Karen. For one important reason, at least temporarily, this was about to change. Karen awoke, as the late-afternoon sun sneaked through the open window to where she had been sleeping. She stretched and sat up. Something familiar inside her stirred; she pursued it. It was something she had wanted for quite some time. She yawned again, and then closed her eyes. Within another two minutes, Karen had ovulated. She propped herself up against the headboard, in no hurry to wake up the rest of the way. Susan turned in her chair to face Dara. She wore one of Dara's favorite outfits-- a light green, foamy bodysuit which had a single, tantalizing zipper that ran from her collar straight down to her crotch, disappearing between her legs. Black tights emerged from the leg openings and covered Susan's otherwise-bare feet. "I hope Karen goes along with this," Susan said. "If not, it'll be your first period in a year. But I'm sure she will. We talked about it." Susan kept her eyes open, and said nothing. She smiled a bit. Already the FSH was flowing through her bloodstream. Dara knew the look; sure enough, within a few minutes, Susan's right ovary released an egg into her waiting Fallopian tube. "Done," Susan announced. "You're so lucky, Susan... I wish I were a few years younger..." "Oh, come on, Dara. You know what I think when you talk that way. Besides, if this works, I'd consider it _our_ baby; Karen's, mine, and yours. After all, at least half my genes came from you. Or, would you perhaps prefer the term 'grandma'?" Dara smiled. "We should go wake up Karen, so she can..." "Can what?" Karen asked, having arrived at the doorway. This seemed awkward for Susan. "Well, I figured that this was a good time for..." Karen smiled. "So that's what I felt. About ten minutes ago." "What?" "It's done. I just had the feeling when I woke up." "So we're synchronized," Susan observed. She took a deep breath. For the next few weeks she would sleep with Karen, and would be underneath her when they made love; in about a week and a half, when the two women mated, Susan would receive Karen's fertile egg, and would become pregnant. It would be a long-term commitment; the culmination of all she was about; a commitment that started over twenty years ago. Susan smiled. "You two make life worth living," she said. "Again and again." [end] From: firstname.lastname@example.org Subject: Evolution (extras) Date: Fri, 24 Jul 1992 19:07:39 GMT Hello again! A few side comments on the original and continued story, that didn't belong in the disclaimer article, and answers to a few questions that have popped up since the original story ran. Q: What was the overall reaction to the original series (1-9)? A: I got quite a bit of positive email about the story; a few people liked the plot, but two of the "devices" (water sports, and the reverse pregnancy that Daniel goes through) just weren't their thing. Several people were disappointed that the original story ended where it did; after all, Susan had yet to really learn what it meant to be female other than biologically, we don't know what happens to Karen, and Susan never really tries out her new "parts". I should probably address those points one at a time-- at least one (you'll see) is directly relevant to an ongoing asb discussion. Q: What do "water sports" have to do with bondage? Why was the original story posted here? A: Very much, I think. In the proper context, the ability to pee on someone is a strong, and very intimate discipline device; and one that many authors seem to misunderstand. I always cringe at scenes where someone _asks_ (other than under coercion) for a golden shower; in those cases it simply happens, the recipient gets his/her wish, and that's all. ("Could you whip me tonight? Please?" is far less appealing than "No... No... Not again! I'll be good!", is it not?) To be an effective B&D device it has to be something that the "victim" apparently wants to avoid (but gets anyway). In many ways this shower can become a more powerful weapon than any physical object-- it's directly under the control of, and comes from the body of, the "top"; and can't be 'taken away' or otherwise defused. The fact that this weapon involves the top's own genitals has added benefits. Q: What's the 'erotic appeal' of the reverse pregnancy scene with Daniel supposed to be? A: I figured, for the most part, that this would be intuitively obvious; it also happened to be similar to one of people's favorite parts of "That's Impossible!" (archived as "bluebox" for some reason), where (in a computer-enhanced, realistic fantasy) Cheryl shrinks her lover to a size which would fit inside her. He experiences a sensation involving his entire body that only a small portion of him would feel before). In "Evolution", however, the sense is different-- an ultimate form of simple bondage, where the top's own _body_ is used to surround, and imprison, the bottom. Daniel is very unwilling to be imprisoned, of course. But in a fantasy like this, there simply are no safewords. It doesn't push everybody's "buttons", of course, but then I can't hit everyone's buttons in a single scene. Perhaps against my better judgement, we visit this kind of thing in the sequel-- but watch for some important differences that make the whole thing _feel_ different. Q: Why did the original end "early"? A: Primarily because of a time shift necessary to keep the story going. Almost everything going on at that point in the story had a scale of _months_ to complete-- and it's difficult in storytelling to jump in this timescale simply for a tie-up ending (it sounds corny). The plan was to conclude when the secret was "out", and the women's plan was obviously a success. The continuation tackles a different set of issues. Q: There's no "safe sex" procedure, really, mentioned in this story. Isn't that kind of bad? A: In the futuristic world that this story inhabits, there aren't any STD's to be avoided (optimistic, no?). Even so, the people involved necessarily have detailed knowledge of each other's bodies, even though George doesn't know that at first. I could have worked in a device where the spread of the new "abilities" also conferred an immunity to known diseases of all sorts, but it was too utopian and the story just didn't need it (plus, the concept would rip off at least one decent SF story that I know about). I also presume that readers are very well aware of present-day issues and practices and this regard, and need no "lecturing" masquerading as entertainment. Q: The story _IS_ entirely fiction, correct? A: Well, I do like taking advantage of the "impossible" in a story which is going to be fiction anyway. The only reality in the story is a bit of actual evolutionary theory which isn't explained until late in the story. Near the end of "Evolution / 7", Susan reads that "A successful species tends to become single-sexed". This is, in fact, real (and was discussed at some length in a 1984 issue of "Science News"), but carries far different implications; since in evolution it also means the end of sexual reproduction. The theory goes that if a species can remain stable long enough, it no longer _needs_ sexual reproduction to remain viable. The change happens on an evolutionary ("glacial") time scale, of course, but begins when a single mutation causes a female of the species to exhibit parthogenesis (i.e. becomes pregnant without fertilization). This unitary event can be the most significant in a species' existence; it means that her offspring are identical, genetically, to herself (discounting further random mutations), and thus would also be asexually-reproducing females. Human females who had this ability would find themselves at a significant disadvantage, however, since they would, essentially, be pregnant nearly all the time beginning with their first ovulation. In nature, this event causes the new, asexual variant of the species to crowd out their sexually-reproducing ancestors. In humans, this would cause great distress to the females who couldn't control their own reproduction; and ultimately medical science would be called upon to correct the situation, possibly by allowing the females in question to limit their own fertility. Nevertheless, these asexually-reproducing females would likely become an increasing part of the population. If the new subspecies is externally identical to a normal human female, the sexually-reproducing population might eventually dwindle away as some of the males choose, knowingly or unknowingly, asexual "females" for their mate. They might have no clue that their biological role in their partner's reproduction is nonexistent, until several (identical) girls are born in succession. Nature's full of nasty tricks like this. (Some will likely make good stories in the future). One might predict the likely male reaction to this event ("Help! we're becoming extinct! Do something!"), but in reality they're at no more disadvantage than the sexually-reproducing females, who face the same fate. Undoubtedly, a great degree of prejudice, persecution, and societal righteousness would likely crop up, with people anxious to identify, isolate, or otherwise "handle" the members of this new species. But that leads us back to our fictional story, where the women have stretched even this futuristic image to their own advantage. Realizing the fear that their "new abilities" would instill in their fellow humans, they conduct their activities in secret and conspire to spread those abilities so quickly that no government could stop them in time. (A story happening at an "evolutionary" pace wouldn't be very interesting, would it?) Q: Is the author male or female? A: I should really make you guess... but I won't. Given the "militant feminist" tone that presents itself in the story (this is the backdrop against which the domination scenes play out), several people assumed I was female. They were wrong. Q: But do you advocate what is happening in the story? A: I wouldn't be tremendously upset, in the sense that, on an individual basis, all of the effects on the general population (except to George and Daniel, so far) are a matter of voluntary, personal choice. But I wouldn't advocate the treatment of men as "evil" or deserving of extinction (despite what the women in the story think). But one sentiment is real-- for men and women to come to understand each other and become more alike, rather than being polarized away from each other as happens now. In the story, of course, physical "unification" is possible, and is seen as the only way for the women in the story to achieve that goal. This isn't actually true, I hope. Q: Is it better to be male, or female? A: I doubt that it makes a difference, though I've taken liberal poetic license with that boundary in the story (where Susan learns of the "substantial advantages" of being female). The story tends to capitalize (unfairly) on the (often undeserved) "bad" reputation men have earned themselves in the media during own own era. Though it might be nice if everyone could experience all of the wonders of both genders, my belief is that we're (men and women) much more alike than we usually accept. Those physical uniquenesses that separate us are easy (and often fun!) to share. Q: Is there any serious violence in the story? A: No. I'm actually proud of that; All the feeling with none of the pain, so to speak. Q: What's your next project? A: Watch for the rewrite of "That's Impossible". Enjoy!