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G.E.N.E.S.I.S. (full version) by Jennifer Chapter 1 Thursday August 7, 5:03 PM The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development My hand was on the light switch . . . ready to flip it off. But before I did, I quickly scanned the room to make sure that I hadn't forgotten anything. I paused for a moment as my eyes met the imposing machine that sat in the center of the room; the sight of it involuntarily causing my mind to shift gears . . . I began to daydream as I stared into the engraved stainless steel plate at its base. On it, there was simply one word . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. It was an acronym . . . short for "Genetic Encompassing & Neurological Encoding Systems Imprinting Synthesizer." G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was perhaps the government's biggest secret . . . an ongoing project over the past decade, and the brainchild of the project's supervisor . . . one Dr. Sam Westbrook. As for myself . . . I've been the project's head computer programmer for over five years now, and have seen over a billion spent on research and development . . . shit, this facility alone was probably a couple hundred million! But considering that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was probably the most significant medical / technological advancement of this century . . . it was impossible to put a price to its worth. Simply put . . . we had invented a machine capable of scanning a person's deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) structure and digitally encoding it into our mainframe computer. Once a `pattern' had been stored (some 90 plus gigabytes of data), it could then be digitally manipulated and re- imprinted over a patient's current DNA. Through a complex array of computer programming & chemical induction . . . the subject's body is `tricked' into accepting the new DNA information as it's own. Then, through a rapid process of cellular regeneration . . . each cell in the body alters itself to conform to the `new' DNA structure. It was truly an astounding scientific achievement with countless ways in which it could be utilized. A cancerous tumor could be `erased', broken bones mended, hell . . . you want blue eyes instead of brown? . . . You want to drop 25 pounds? No problem. We were a damn plastic surgeon's dream! But what was even more incredible was that we could digitally re-code brain patterns. Effectively giving us the ability to alter the memories, drives and instincts of a subject. The most hardened criminal could be `re-coded' to be as passive as a lamb, thus allowing him/her to rejoin the community as a productive member of society. As you can see, the possibilities were endless. G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was simply . . . incredible. With such a prestigious position for such an unbelievable project, you'd think I'd be one of the happiest guys on the face of the earth . . . right? But instead, my mind was filled with anger and disgust. Imagine . . . dedicating years of your life toward something, thinking that you were going to be helping people . . . and then one day finding out that you'd been played for a fool. A few weeks ago, while recovering some accidentally deleted files from the network, I stumbled across the fragments of an e-mail addressed to Dr. Westbrook . . . from the CIA!?? Although I tried to fight it, my curiosity overtook me as I spent the next few hours reconstructing the letter. What I looked at left me completely stunned. Dr. Westbrook, and most of the project team, was actually part of the CIA! Apparently, G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was to be commandeered after its final `Beta' testing was complete in the next few weeks. The letter went on to say that the five non-CIA team members represented a potential security threat to the long-term viability of the project, as well as the United States government. All non-secure team members would have to be ` Disposed Of ' at the appropriate time!! My heart began to race wildly; they were going to kill us! I quickly `scrubbed' the e-mail file and headed home as fast as I could to make an attempt at sorting things out. "The CIA! The fucking CIA!" I thought to myself. "And Westbrook?!!" They knew from the get-go that what we were really developing was some kind of `super-counterintelligence spy machine'. Armed with G.E.N.E.S.I.S., the government would be almost unstoppable; able to infiltrate anywhere in the world and . . . manipulate any situation. The possibilities were truly frightening. Unfortunately, my problems weren't any easier to solve by the time I got home. I had been tricked, and even worse . . . my life was in danger. There was no one that I could trust. I didn't know who the other four `non-agents' were and couldn't risk trying to find out. Where could I run? . . . Where could I hide? Surly they'd find me. And then, out of the clear blue . . . it hit me. I had a plan! "Hey Dave!" a voice called out impatiently from the next room. "You just gonna stand there and daydream all night . . . or are we gonna get the hell outta here? You know traffic's a bitch if we don't leave by quarter after." His voice quickly snapped me out of my trance-like state. "Yeah, yeah . . . I know. Sorry . . . I was just doing some thinking" I shot back. Grabbing my briefcase, I hit the light switch and headed out the door with Jim. Chapter 2 Friday August 16 (one week later), 8:12 PM My Apartment "Hello" I said as I picked up the ringing telephone. "Mr. David Freeman?" a deep voice with a thick accent asked. "Yes" I said. "Tomorrow . . . 7:30 PM . . . at the wooden bench near the pond on the East Side of Northridge Park. Come alone. You will be watched." Before I could even respond, I heard a click. The phone line was dead. The next day seemed to take forever as I had second thoughts about my meeting that evening. I couldn't believe that I was actually going to go through with this, but since I was the one who originally contacted them . . . I had no choice now but to follow through. Finally . . . the end of the day arrived. As I drove to the park, I began to get nervous thinking about whether or not I had made the right decision. But then I remembered that my own country . . . the goddamn CIA had already double-crossed me. So why feel bad? It was simply time to get even!! As I approached the bench, I saw the back of a man's head; most of it obscured by a large dark hat. I took a deep breath as I rounded the corner; and without making eye contact . . . quickly sat down. "Hello" I started to say as I attempted to initiate a handshake. "Mr. Freeman I presume" he grumbled. "Yes, I'm Freeman" I said as I pulled back my hand. "There is not much time comrade," he said. "Here, in this envelope, you will find everything you need." I reached out and took the heavily padded envelope. "Our agreement still stands?" I asked. "Yes" he said as he reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette. "Things are as they were agreed to. You will turn over to us the `blueprints' for the machine you call G.E.N.E.S.I.S., and we in turn . . . will pay you $150,000,000 U.S. dollars . . . in cash. That is of course, that you can prove that this machine of yours actually does what you say it will." "It does!" I snapped back. "It does . . . you'll see." "For your sake . . . I hope so." He said with skepticism. "Comrade." I clutched the envelope tightly and got up to leave. "It's been a pleasure." I stated calmly. "Good evening Mr. Freeman." He responded with a tip of his hat. With that, I turned and walked away. Back at my apartment, I flipped on the dining room light and sat down at the table. I slowly opened up the envelope and poured its contents onto the hard wood table. Out came some papers, and a small device. "So" I said inquisitively. "That's what you look like." I held the paper-thin device up to get a better look. To the naked eye, nobody would ever think it was anything other than the credit card that it appeared to be. As I gave it the once over, I found it hard to believe that this was actually a tiny recording device. If it performed as advertised, it was capable of recording the strokes of a computer keyboard for up to 20 consecutive hours. As long as it went undetected, that would be more than enough. Chapter 3 Monday August 18, 6:35 AM The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development Getting into the complex for work Monday morning went off without a hitch. I arrived about an hour early and made my way through all of the security checkpoints . . . no problem. With the keystroke recorder looking like my `gold' credit card and it's attachment wire stuffed into a ballpoint pen, no one suspected a thing. Once inside the lab, I made my way to my office. There I pulled off the top to my pen and dumped two small wires & a metal collar onto the desk. I quickly clipped the wires to the magnetic strip on the back of the `credit card' with a couple of paper clips. I then twisted the frayed ends of the wires around the tiny metal collar. "You'd better work," I thought to myself as I gave it a final inspection. With my heat beating frantically, I made my way out into the lab. After a quick look around to make sure that the coast was clear, I made my way over to the terminal that Dr. Westbrook usually used to interface with the main-frame computer system. I hurriedly turned over the keyboard and allowed the magnetic backing of the `recorder' to attach itself. I then took the small metal `collar' and twisted it around the plastic sheathing that surrounded the wires running from the keyboard to the computer system. Once assured that the `collar' had made positive contact with the copper wires in the cord, I flipped the keyboard back over and straightened everything back up. The day passed slowly. Fear of getting caught, kept me from being able to concentrate on anything else. I kept eyeing the terminal . . . hoping that Dr. Westbrook would use it. Finally around 2:30 PM, it happened. The doctor spent about an hour doing some work . . . I prayed that it would be enough. After telling Jim that I needed to work a little late, I managed to make myself the last one to leave. Once alone, I quickly grabbed the recorder and stuffed it back into my wallet. I gathered my things and took off as fast as I could. Later that evening, I printed out the recordings of the small device. After looking through some 100 pages of keystrokes, I finally hit the jackpot. "Yes!!" I yelled as I wrote down Dr. Westbrook's primary access password. "Alright doctor" I grumbled to myself. "It's payback time!" Chapter 4 Friday August 29 (one week & a half later), 7:45 AM The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development Barring some unforeseen event . . . today would be the day. I knew that with the holiday coming up, a lot of people would be taking off right at five o'clock . . . eager to get a jump on the long Labor Day weekend. If things went as usual, Dr. Westbrook would be sticking around an extra hour or so . . . working late . . . just like every other day. Things went just as planned. Quitting time came and everybody headed for the parking lot. By about 5:15 PM, Dr. Westbrook and I were the only two left. About a fifteen minutes later, the doctor walked by and noticed me working in my office. "Oh, Hi Dave. I didn't know anyone else was still here." "Yeah . . . still here" I said with a sigh. "I just wanted to get these algorithms ironed out before the weekend started. Anyone else here? Or is it just us diehards?" With a laugh the doctor responded "No . . . just us people without a social life!" After almost a half-hour, my opportunity finally came. I saw Dr. Westbrook head over to the restroom. I quickly got up and scurried over to where the doctor was sitting. There I pulled a small capsule out of my pocket and cracked it open. Being careful so as not to spill any, I dumped its contents into the doctor's open soft drink can. It fizzed just a bit; then quickly subsided. I turned and nonchalantly headed back to my office. Just as I got there, I heard the sound of the restroom door opening. I was told that the white-powdered chemical would work quickly; not giving the victim enough time to realize that they'd been drugged, nor call for help. I continually glanced out of my office to see if anything had happened. And then . . . all of the sudden . . . I heard a loud thud. I rushed out of the office and saw Dr. Westbrook sprawled out on the floor. I quickly ran over. "Doctor??" I said in a concerned tone. "Dr. Westbrook? Are you alright?" There was no response. As I bent down and rolled the doctor over, it was clear that the `knockout drops' provided by my `friends' had done their work quite nicely. "All right Davie boy" I said to myself. Just keep your fingers crossed that everything else goes just as smoothly." I made sure that the room was locked and then proceeded to drag the good doctor across the room. "Damn you're heavy" I groaned aloud. In front of me was the security console that allowed access into the `Main Interface Room'. The door required a level 10 security clearance to open, and was always ordered sealed anytime that Dr. Westbrook was not present. Since I was only a level 7, my security card just wasn't going to do the trick. Enter . . . my unconscious friend. I gently slid the doctor's access card into the slot on the reader next to the door. After a brief moment, a synthesized computer voice acknowledged my presence. "SECURITY CARD ACCEPTED." "IDENTIFICATION . . . POSITIVE." "DR. WESTBROOK." "PLEASE PLACE HAND ON SCANNER FOR FINGERPRINT IDENTIFICATION." "PRESS ENTER WHEN READY" I awkwardly positioned the doctor's right hand on the glass plate and then pressed the `enter' key. I closed my eyes as a bright green light scanned back and forth; very similar to the way a photocopy machine worked. "FINGERPRINT IDENTIFICATION . . . POSITIVE." "PLEASE PLACE HEAD ON CHIN-REST FOR FACIAL CAPILLARY IDENTIFICATION." "PRESS ENTER WHEN READY" It took a lot of struggling, but I finally managed to get the doctor's head positioned correctly. Then, with the press of a button, the machine was once again scanning the doctor's limp body. The bright light made the doctor's skin almost seem transparent as the tiny blood vessels of the face were compared to the security record file. "CAPILLARY IDENTIFICATION . . . POSITIVE." "PLEASE ENTER 16 DIGIT PRIMARY ACCESS NUMBER" I typed in from memory, the number that I had pirated the other day. "ACCESS NUMBER . . . ACCEPTED." I heard a click as the pressure seal on the door in front of me released. I grabbed the handle and opened it. I dragged the doctor in and closed the door behind me. When I turned around, my heart began to pound. I knew that it was time. Chapter 5 Friday August 29, 6:12 PM The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development The room was quite familiar to me. In fact, I had spent almost as much time in here as I did back at my desk . . . although none of it was unsupervised. I once again used the doctor's body as a human `passport' to clear the security console at the G.E.N.E.S.I.S. interface terminal. "LOGIN SUCCESSFUL" "GOOD EVENING DR. WESTBROOK." "Alright" I said as I took a deep breath. I quickly started to scan through the database . . . making sure that I had everything that I needed. Once I found it all, I gave a huge sigh of relief and turned my attention toward the scanner adjacent to where I was standing. I programmed it to perform a complete genetic body scan . . . "ENTER PRIMARY ACCESS NUMBER TO INITIATE AUTO- SCAN SEQUENCE" I entered the stolen number once again. "AUTO-SCANNING SEQUENCE TO INITIATE IN TWO MINUTES" I stripped off my clothes and laid down on a large, clear acrylic table that was suspended by two steel supports at its top and bottom. Wrapped around the table was the actual scanning device. It was approximately eight feet in diameter, and frankly . . . resembled a giant white donut. When activated, it would sweep up and down the table a number of times to create a 3-dimensional, genetic imprint of the patient. I checked a couple of settings, and got myself into position. The scanner quickly sensed my body and made an initial sweep to determine the `limits' of its scan. "AUTO-SCANNING SEQUENCE TO INITIATE IN THIRTY SECONDS" "WARNING . . . PATIENT MUST REMAIN STILL FOR DURATION OF SCAN" As the computer counted down, I closed my eyes and tried to relax. "3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . INITIATING" >From above and below, the interior ring of the scanner projected a neon red laser grid across my body. Then, as if attached to an axle, the scanner began to turn about the table like a giant bicycle tire. It moved back and forth several times while emitting an eerie bright blue light that caused the entire room to glow. After nearly forty-five minutes, the machine stopped. "AUTO-SCAN COMPLETE" "VERIFYING SCAN INTEGRITY" Pause "SCAN INTEGRITY . . . POSITIVE" I was relieved that everything went all right and proceeded to get dressed. I did a quick check of the doctor and was relieved to see that the chemical substance was continuing to work as promised. Once back at the terminal, I began to program G.E.N.E.S.I.S. to create the two chemical serums that I needed. The first, created from the genetic scan that I had just performed on myself. And the second, from the mainframe's stored pattern of Dr. Westbrook. Both serums were generated to initiate physical genetic changes only . . . no mental or emotional changes were included. In about thirty minutes, two small vials of iridescent green liquid were ready. I held them up to the light and marveled at the technological wonder that I was holding. I was careful not to mix them up . . . tagged them . . . and set them down in a specially designed storage rack. I turned again to the keyboard and typed a few more commands into the computer . . . A moment later . . . the computer responded once more. "BINDING MATRIX PREPARED" "STEP INSIDE CHAMBER AND CLOSE DOOR COMPLETELY TO INITIATE MATRIX INDUCTION" After managing to get both the unconscious doctor and myself into the glass chamber, I turned and closed the door tightly behind me. The rubber seals around it made a squishing sound as it locked into it's closed position. A fan from above kicked in and supplied fresh oxygen to the tight space. "BINDING MATRIX DISPERSAL COMMENCING" I stood there and watched several dozen tiny nozzles spray a fine stream of pink mist into the air. My lungs burned ever so slightly as I inhaled the thick fog. Soon the chamber was completely filled; as I looked down, I could barely make out Dr. Westbrook's silhouette on the floor. The air felt cool and damp . . . almost as if standing outside on a humid fall day. After the five-minute ingestion period was over, an exhaust fan turned on and sucked the dense mist out of the chamber through the thin slats in the stainless steel floor. "INDUCTION COMPLETE" "OPEN DOOR TO RELEASE AIRLOCK" I did so and quickly stepped out; relieved to take a deep breath of fresh air. After a moment, I pulled the doctor back out and went over to the storage rack where I had placed the two vials. My heat began to beat frantically as I got ready to take the last step. "Well . . . here goes nothing!" I said as I prepared to give myself a shot of the formula intended for me. After doing so, I paused for a second . . . praying that what I was doing was all going to work out. I next found another syringe and injected the doctor with the contents of the second vial. A chill ran up my spine as I realized that there was no turning back now. It was done. After composing myself, I walked over to a nearby desk and dialed a number that was given to me by `Ivan' (my nickname for my eastern block friend). As instructed, I hung up after two rings. They would meet me in 30 minutes at the corner of Baker & Elm St. Chapter 6 Friday August 29, 8:07 PM The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development "Wake up . . . wake up" I said as I shook the doctor. It was taking a few minutes, but the special smelling salts given to me were seemingly bringing the doctor back to consciousness. "Come on . . . that's it. Time to wake up". After several tries at keeping the doctor's eyes open, they finally focused on my face. "Dave? What . . . why did you . . . what's going on?" I gave the doctor a cold stare and said, "Because you and your CIA buddies sold me out. This whole thing's been nothing but a lie. I believed in you . . ." "But . . . how did you know I was with the CIA?" the doctor interrupted. "I found the fragments of an old e-mail file that you deleted. It was very enlightening." I said sarcastically. "I especially like the part where I'm just supposed to `disappear'! That was a nice touch" "Please Dave . . . let me try to explain." "I don't think so doctor," I said. "Besides, I have something a little more important to tell you. Now listen . . . and listen good. I've injected you with a very toxic poison. If you don't get a shot of the antidote within 60 minutes . . . you'll be dead." Dr. Westbrook was completely speechless. "So if you want to live, I'd suggest you do everything that I say. First we're going to get out of here. You're going to act completely natural as we leave the building. If you pull anything at any of the security checkpoints . . . I'll leave you to die. Got it!?" "Yes" the doctor said meekly. "No strange looks at the security cameras . . . no tying to signal guards . . . no nothing. Were just both going to walk out of here like it was any other night of the week. Nice and easy." I helped the doctor stand up. "After getting out to the parking lot, we'll both just get into our cars and take off like normal. I want you to follow me . . . in about 20 minutes well be meeting up with a fellow who will give you the anecdote that you need. Just remember . . . don't pull anything funny . . . don't try to speed off to the hospital or police . . . because there's no way that anybody's going to be able to figure out what the hell I gave you. You'd be dead before they could even send your blood to the lab for an analysis. Your only chance is to do exactly what I'm telling you. Got it?" "I'll do what you say," the doctor said softly. We shut things down and headed off to the parking lot. Things went smoothly as the doctor did everything that I instructed. Shortly, we pulled up at the designated rendezvous point. There was a black Cadillac waiting for us on the opposite side of the street. As we approached it two men stepped out. The driver's window began to roll down; `Ivan' gave me a cold smile. Before anyone could even blink, the two men were forcibly shoving Dr. Westbrook into the backseat. `Ivan' turned to me and said, "If things go as you say they will . . . I will meet you back here at 9:00 PM on Sunday night. We will discuss things further then." I nodded my head in agreement. From the back seat I heard Dr. Westbrook shout "Dave! Where's the anecdote! What's going on!" "Easy doctor . . . easy." I said. "There was NO poison. I made it all up to get you to cooperate with me. You're gonna be just fine." "You fucking piece of garbage!" the doctor yelled. I swear to God you'll pay for this! Whatever you're doing, you'll never get away with it!" "Don't be so sure of it doctor," I said. "You'd be surprised what a little `genetic cocktail' can do to help somebody get away with something. I don't think anybody's going to suspect anything's out of the ordinary at all." "What have you done with G.E.N.E.S.I.S.!" the doctor demanded. "You'll find out soon enough . . . you'll find out soon enough." I nodded my head to `Ivan' and said, "Sunday at 9:00PM . . . I'll be here." With that I turned and walked back toward the cars. One of the men from the back seat got out and intercepted me. "You'll take the doctor's car," he said. "We'll take care of yours." "Alright" I said as we exchanged keys. I got into the doctor's Lexus and started up the engine. I wasn't really sure of where to go for the next couple of days until the changes were complete. But, I knew that I couldn't risk being seen around here . . . so I decided to drive until something hit me. I ended up in a Hilton hotel in the suburbs of Arlington. I checked in under a false name, and using cash . . . paid for my two-night stay in advance. "You'll be in room 807 Mr. Johnson. Have a nice stay," the receptionist said. "Thank you" I responded. As the elevator began to ascend, it stopped on the third floor for someone else to enter. In stepped an attractive young girl dressed to go out for the evening. As she walked in, I noticed they way her wide hips caused her butt to sway . . . the way her breasts bounced ever so slightly as she walked. "Good evening" I said. "Hello" she responded with a slight smile. As I admired her seductive form from across the cab, my stomach began to churn; I started to get scared. I couldn't help but wonder if it was the first stages of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. beginning to alter my body. I began to feel sick at the thought of what was going to happen to me . . . over the next 36 hours . . . I would become the genetic double of Dr. Sam Westbrook . . . Dr. Sam(antha) Westbrook . . . a woman! The `chime' of the elevator doors opening brought mind back to the present. I got off on the eighth floor and found my way to my room. After getting ready for bed, I flipped on the TV in an effort to get my mind off things . . . but it was of no use. I was just too geared up. So I flipped off the lights . . . figuring that the darkness would help me fall asleep. But as I lay there, my mind could only think about `the plan' . . . I was still in shock that I had the guts to go through with it. As I closed my eyes in an effort to drift off to sleep, my mind went over every detail . . . In short, my intent was to scuttle the whole project. If they weren't going to use it to help people . . . then they weren't going to have it at all! Screw the CIA! But don't worry . . . `Ivan' wasn't going to get it either. All I was really after was a way to avoid being killed by the CIA; it just so happened that my plan had a couple of side benefits . . . justice & good old . . . hard . . . cold cash!! I had made a deal to turn an electronic blueprint of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. over to a former Soviet power; in turn, they would give me $150,000,000 (broken into two payments after meeting specific criteria along the way). First, I had to convince them that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was the real deal. They were certainly leery about my claims . . . but I had no problem understanding their skepticism. If I were in their shoes, I'd want some tangible proof before I dropped that kind of change. Second, I was to give them the `blueprints' and specifications for the whole project; thus collecting the fist half of my compensation. Later . . . once a working prototype was constructed from my information, I'd receive the second half of my $150,000,000. It took days of thought . . . but the details of how to pull this off finally came to me. They wanted proof that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was for real, and I needed a way to duplicate G.E.N.E.S.I.S. onto DVD's without drawing suspicion to myself. So I came up with the idea of using G.E.N.E.S.I.S. to swap bodies with Dr. Westbrook; in a sense . . . killing two birds with one stone. After giving Dr. Westbrook a dose of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. serum, I'd turn her over to `Ivan' and let her morph (right in front of his eyes) into a physical duplicate of myself. They say, "seeing is believing" . . . so what better way to illustrate the capabilities of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. than with an actual demonstration! As for me . . . I would turn myself into Dr. Westbrook . . . giving myself full access to the entire project's database. In her body, I'd be able to operate completely without suspicion; taking my time to secretly plant multiple computer viruses that would that would destroy the CIA's G.E.N.E.S.I.S. database forever. But before I did so . . . I'd use G.E.N.E.S.I.S. to create another `serum' for myself; a kind of `escape plan' if you will. Then after giving my `comrades' a corrupted DVD blueprint of G.E.N.E.S.I.S., I'd use it to give myself another identity and make a getaway to some remote tropical island with my $75,000,000. By the time they realized that I'd pulled a fast one . . . I'd be long gone & G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would be destroyed forever! It was a perfect plan . . . I had gone over every detail a thousand times in my head. I had thought of every fault . . . every angle. It was simply flawless. Not only would I be able to live out my life in luxury, but also the world would be a safer place for my intervention. Chapter 7 Saturday August 30, 10:56 AM The Arlington Hilton I awoke drained the next morning; it was one of the most horrible night's sleep that I'd ever had. I tossed and turned all night long as chills and a constant nausea kept me from resting. It seemed that if I wasn't curled up in bed with the sweats . . . I was either sitting on the toilet, or kneeling in front of it. It was simply awful. As I made my way to the bathroom to throw up once more, I was taken by my hollowed reflection in the mirror. I couldn't believe it. I must have lost some 50 pounds . . . and by the looks of it, about six inches as well. "Oh God" I gasped as my hands clutched my face. It was then that it all kicked in . . . I began to shake. Up until now, the entire plan seemed so easy to go through with . . . but now with my body actually changing, I became scared. "What have I done! What have I done!" I thought. After laying down for a couple of more hours, the nausea & diarrhea seemed to subside. I decided to take a shower and get cleaned up. The warm water felt wonderful as it flowed over my aching body. The sensations of washing and feeling the changes in my body were almost surreal. I felt so thin . . . so lightweight as I noticed that most of my muscle mass had disappeared. After drying off, I decided to get dressed and head downstairs to grab a bite to eat . . . I was simply starving. As I put my clothes on, it wasn't a surprise to see how loose they were. I looked like a little kid wearing his dad's stuff. So I rolled up my pant legs, tucked in my shirt & tightened my belt to make the best out of an awkward situation. I stared in the mirror and noticed that my sandy colored hair had darkened and grown out an inch or two. I slicked it back with some water and took off for downstairs. After eating enough for almost two people, I paid and began to head back to the room. As I passed by the restrooms in the lobby, I decided to make a quick pit stop. I pushed open the men's room door and almost hit another guy who was leaving at the same time. "Excuse m . . . " my voice cracked in a higher octave. A look of surprise overtook my face as I hastily pushed my way past the startled man. As I made my way toward the urinals, a couple of other men gave me some strange looks. While passing the mirror, I took a quick glance at my reflection. "Shit!" I thought. I looked even worse. My hair was another inch longer and starting to fall to the sides around my face. I looked well . . . softer. And with my smaller stature, it was no wonder that these guys were staring. Frankly, it was starting to get difficult to tell whether I was male or female. But when I bellied up to one of the urinals . . . it seemed to squelch their curiosity as they went about their way without concern. My heart began to beat quicker as I noticed yet another change. My penis was completely numb! It was still the same size, but I couldn't feel a thing . . . only the strange sensation of urine flowing through a part of my body that seemed disconnected. I quickly reached down and grabbed my balls . . . they too seemed desensitized as I gave them a little squeeze to initiate some pain. Nothing but a little twinge. When finished, I hurriedly zipped up my oversized pants and headed back out to the lobby. It was there that I noticed a little boutique with some clothing in the window. I made a quick stop and picked up a navy blue jogging suit with a white tee shirt & a pair of sandals. After holding them up to my body . . . I decided that a `men's small' would be about right. "Hopefully this shit will fit me a little better," I thought as I dumped them on the counter. "Hello, how are you . . ." my voice cracked. The man gave me a strange look and then proceeded to ring up the sale. I quickly grabbed the bag from him and made my way out of the shop . . . completely embarrassed. Once back in my room, I decided that another nap was in order. I had hardly been awake for two hours, but was completely exhausted. Chapter 8 Saturday August 30, 5:34 PM The Arlington Hilton I awoke some three hours later. As I looked out of the window, the sun was starting to set. "God, I feel like . . ." I started to say as the sound of my voice stopped me in mid-sentence. "Jesus . . . I sound like . . . a girl!" I gasped. My hands reached up to clutch my throat. It was tight . . . sore; my Adam's Apple was almost gone! After regaining my composure. My grumbling stomach once again told me that I needed some food. "My metabolism must be going nuts," I thought as I casually brushed a strand of hair out of my eye. I got up and grabbed the bag of clothes that I had purchased earlier. I dumped them onto the bed and began to get undressed. First my pants . . . then my shirt. "Holy shit!" I gasped as I fell back onto the bed in shock. I looked down and couldn't believe what I saw. I was growing tits! There before my very eyes . . . were most definitely two sprouting breasts. I slowly lifted my hands to touch them; hoping that when they reached their destination . . . it would only be a dream. But instead . . . they found a soft fleshiness that was foreign to the touch. After sitting there in shock and staring at them for a few minutes, my empty stomach reminded me of my ongoing hunger. I got up and finished getting dressed. When finished, I wandered over to the mirror to take a look. What stared back was a completely androgynous figure! Half man . . . half woman. My heart raced with fear. In an effort to hang onto manhood for as long as possible . . . I ran to the bathroom to once again slick back my hair. After completely wetting it, I was able to get it to lay tight to my head. As I gazed at my reflection, I wished that I'd bought a `medium' sized shirt. The `small' that I had bought was clinging ever so tightly to my bony ribcage . . . emphasizing even more so the two fleshy mounds growing on my chest. In a ridiculous display of desperation, I tried to push them back into my body . . . but all I managed to do was cause my thickening nipples to harden . . . making them stand out even more. I disgustedly grabbed the jacket top to my outfit and zipped it up over my budding adolescent breasts. "Well I guess it's not too bad," I thought as I tried to convince myself that I still looked male before heading out the door. I once again found myself eating a ton of food in the hotel's restaurant. I was continually reminded of my predicament as people hesitated before calling me `sir'. I slowly began to realize that my `male masquerade' was all but over. "I'll be right back with the check . . . Ma'am" the waitress said as she cleared my plate. I sat there for a moment . . . stunned by being addressed for the first time as female. While I waited for the check, I got up to use the restroom. Once there, I hesitated at the entrances . . . trying to decide which one to use. A man exited the men's room. "Uh . . . excuse me . . . uh . . . miss," he said while giving me an awkward look. That did it . . . I had no choice. I turned and opened the door to the women's room. I paused for a moment, unzipped my jacket, and swallowed hard as I began to turn the corner through the entrance vestibule. My pulse quickened as I looked up to see several women before me. They casually glanced over; feeling that someone new was entering the room. I saw a couple of them stare inquisitively at me . . . trying to decide if I was male or female. One woman obviously felt threatened as she started to say "Get the h . . . " before she noticed the small, familiar shapes pushing through my tight tee-shirt. "Oh dear . . . I'm so sorry" she said while looking completely embarrassed. I gave her a slight smile a hurriedly made my way to an empty stall. As I did so, the other woman went about their business without any concern. Once inside the stall, I unzipped my pants and just about started to urinate, when it dawned on me that I'd better not `do it' standing up . . . or else I'd really cause a scene. So I quickly grabbed some toilet paper . . . lined the seat . . . and sat down to urinate. Just as I did so, the stall door next to me opened and closed. I heard the sounds of someone going through the same ritual that I had just performed. While sitting there, I was clearly able to see the high-heeled shoes of the woman in the stall next to me. She turned around as I watched a pair of pantyhose fall around her ankles . . . then, a white lace pair of panties. As I listened to the sounds of her going to the bathroom . . . my mind raced at the voyeuristic scene that I was living. Under normal circumstances, I would have had a raging hard-on. But as I looked down . . . there wasn't even a twitch in the diminutive penis that hung limply between my legs. After gradually coming to grips with my slipping manhood, I finished my business and headed back to the table to pay my bill. After doing so, I once again returned to my room . . . there, I stripped down to my boxers and got into bed to watch some TV. A couple of hours later, I drifted off to sleep . . . fearful of what changes awaited me in the morning. Chapter 9 Sunday August 31, 10:21 AM The Arlington Hilton I awoke to the brightness of the sunlight streaming into my room. I rolled over and squinted at the clock radio in an effort to make out the time. After I pushed the hair out of my face, I was able to see that it was almost . . . "Hair?!" I sat up with a jolt as everything came back to me in a flash . . . the bouncing sensation on my chest making it all that much clearer. "Holy shit!" I gasped in a completely different octave. I looked down and saw a full size set of breasts. I grabbed them in wonder; allowing their full weight to rest in the palms of my hands. I began to touch them, but my nails only got in the way. "Nails?!" They seemed so long . . . so foreign. As I held them up to take a closer look, I was amazed at how delicate my hands had become. My forearms so . . . My heart pounded as I sprung up and headed into the bathroom. As I turned on the light and gazed into the mirror, I saw the most peculiar sight. The body of someone else . . . moving just as I was moving . . . mimicking my facial expressions. It was a scene right out of The Twilight Zone. Dr. Westbrook, or shall I say . . . "I" was a fairly attractive woman. Late thirties . . . about 5'-6" and 130 pounds . . . a good figure, but nothing spectacular. With hazel eyes and shoulder length auburn hair, her . . . "my" . . . face was definitely above average; perhaps a 6 or 7 on a scale of 1 to 10. "Well one thing's for sure Doc," I said aloud as I gazed back down to my chest. "You've got a nice little set of knockers here!" I once again began to fondle them; I was simply amazed at the new sensations. The feeling of weight jiggling on my once flat chest was indescribable. I grabbed my thick nipples and began to roll them around fingertips. They felt so big . . . so strange . . . so sensitive. I then reached down and began to pull down my boxers; what awaited me was no surprise. I'd seen many pussies before in my life . . . just not one from this view! I slowly started moving my hand toward the dark patch of pubic hair that covered my empty crotch. As my fingers began to make there way down my smooth stomach . . . through my pubic hair . . . and to . . . "Oh my God" I said softly as my fingers worked their way into a warm slit between my legs. After a little more bodily exploration, I managed to snap myself out of it and refocus on what was to transpire later today. "Alright Dave . . . pull yourself together here. We've got a big day ahead," I said to myself in the mirror. "In a few days, you're gonna be a millionaire . . . and soon enough . . . you'll be able to get the hell out of this body! But for now, you're just going to have to grin and bear it". It was time to head back to the city . . . time to take care of business. From this moment on . . . I knew the masquerade was on! Chapter 10 Sunday August 31, 3:16 PM Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C. The doctor's home was absolutely beautiful. With high ceilings, rich woodwork, and oak floors, it was obvious that she was well paid. I gave myself a little self-guided tour, and then spent the rest of the afternoon rifling through the doctor's papers in her den. I was looking for anything I could to help shed some light on this whole CIA stuff . . . but unfortunately, there wasn't a shred of anything useful to be found. I did however find some old journals where the doctor had recorded much of her early research and theories on human genetics. It was fascinating reading . . . before I knew it, I was completely immersed. Some time later . . . I glanced down at my watch. "Shit!" I chirped. "7:30 . . . gotta get ready!" I quickly closed the books and scurried upstairs to get ready for my appointment. Up in her bedroom, I looked through her closet for some clothes to change into. I grabbed a casual dress and tossed it onto the bed as I made my way over to her dresser. I swallowed hard as I pulled open a couple of drawers in search of some underwear to put on first. The third time proved the charm as her lingerie drawer slid open before me. An assortment of panties and bras were neatly arranged in several rows. It turned my stomach to think about wearing any of this stuff, but unfortunately, I had no choice. I searched for the least feminine ones I could find . . . unfortunately, none were conservative enough for my taste. The feeling of the thin, tight cotton panties hugging my new form was quite different to me. I gazed into the mirror to take in the sight . . . turning sideways to catch a view from behind. I next slipped my arms into her bra. I pulled the soft cups over my dangling breasts and reached around to attempt to get it hooked. After a couple of attempts, I managed to do it. "Finally" I said in relief. "What a pain in the ass to have to do that all of the time!" The tight panties felt strange, but the bra was even worse. The sensation of something snug around my chest was most uncomfortable. "How the hell do women put up with these!" I said as I turned back to the bed. There I slipped on her dress and zipped it up. Before I knew it, I had finished dressing . . . was in my car and on my way. I was speeding along to make my 9:00 PM appointment, when I rounded a corner and noticed of sea of taillights backed up from the Washington Bridge. "Shit!" I exclaimed as I glanced at the dashboard clock. It read 8:35 PM. "Damn it" I said impatiently as my car slowed to a crawl. There wasn't enough time to try a different way . . . I'd have to wait it out. I continually glanced at the clock . . . my impatience seemingly making the time go by even faster. Finally, I approached the problem. There was a mass of flashing lights from at about the midpoint of the bridge. "Must have been an accident," I thought as I again checked the time. Fortunately, the police kept the gawkers moving as the two lanes merged to one. As I passed, I took a quick glance myself . . . but I couldn't see a thing. "Must have cleaned it up already," I thought as I accelerated back to full speed. It was close, but I managed to arrive only a couple of minutes late. The familiar Cadillac was sitting on the opposite side of the street with its lights off. I parked . . . took a deep breath . . . and got out of the car. As I crossed the street, the men began to emerge from their vehicle. "Good evening Doctor Westbrook," `Ivan' said with a smirk on his face. "You look utterly lovely tonight." I gave him a small, but annoyed smile. "Let's just get to the point," I said firmly. "As you can tell by looking at me . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. is everything that I said it would be. I assume that what you saw happen to Dr. Westbrook over the weekend was equally impressive . . . and certainly enough proof for you to see the value in what you're buying?" "Absolutely," `Ivan' said with a smile while checking me out. "It was simply astonishing!" I happened to notice that the backseat of the car was empty. "Where's the doctor?" I asked curiously. `Ivan' shrugged his shoulders and said, "Let's just say . . . she couldn't make it this evening." "What do you mean . . . couldn't make it!" I quipped. "What are you talking about?!" "The doctor is of no concern to you," `Ivan' smiled. "You just take care of your part of the bargain." "Look", I said. "This wasn't part of the deal . . . you told me you'd turn her back over to me once you had your proof . . . you said that . . ." "Silence", he said sternly. "We had a change of plans. You just hold up your end of things . . . or else we may have a change of plans for you as well!" I shook my head in agreement slowly. "Very good," he said. "Just to make sure that you don't have any second thoughts about fulfilling you obligation . . . you will be under surveillance by my men until you turn over the `blueprints' to G.E.N.E.S.I.S." "There won't be any problems," I said calmly as I tried to conceal my anger. "We expect delivery by the end of the week . . . doctor," he said. "I'll let you know if I get it sooner," I responded. "Then we are done. Good evening . . . Doctor Westbrook." I turned and quickly headed back to the doctor's car, scared to death of what could happen to me if I failed. As I started the car and began to pull away, a pair of headlights of another car flipped on. I was being followed. Once back at the doctor's brownstone, I scurried inside and quickly locked the doors behind me. I went to a nearby window and peered outside . . . "Still there" I mumbled to myself. I paced nervously for a while regretting what I had gotten myself into. I was afraid if I didn't play my cards correctly, everything could get screwed up. I needed to rethink things. It was obvious that `Ivan' was going to be a handful. Chapter 11 Monday September 1 (Labor Day), 8:00 AM Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C. Morning came quickly as the sound of the clock radio jarred me from my sound sleep. I awoke slowly until a news report struck a nerve . . . "Last nights fatal accident at the Washington Bridge still has authorities baffled. Police are still searching for the vehicle that struck an innocent motorist . . . causing the driver to loose control, break through the guardrail, and plunge to his death in the river below. David Freeman, 35 of Washington D.C., was pronounced dead on arrival at . . ." All at once every nerve in my body clicked into overdrive. "David Freeman!!!" I yelled. "That's me!! . . . or . . . I mean Dr. Westbrook!!! Jesus Christ!! They killed her!!!" I slumped to the floor and buried my face between my hands. As I sat there trying to make sense of it all, the harsh truth about what had really happened began to sink in. "Oh my God! They didn't kill Dr. Westbrook . . . they killed me!!! The world thinks I'm dead!!" I couldn't believe it . . . they had erased my life. My head began to spin . . . what was I going to do?! I was dead . . . how could I ever change back into my old body? I was trapped . . . or was I?! "No . . . they're not going to win this game . . . I won't let them." I pulled the curtains aside and glanced out the window . . . the surveillance car was still parked there. "We'll see who's smarter . . . we'll see!" I said as I closed the drapes in anger. It was time for a shift in plans. I spent the entire day scheming . . . and by the time I went to bed that night, I was sure that I had everything back under control. Chapter 12 Thursday September 4 (a few days later), 5:52 PM The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development The past few days had gone even better than I'd anticipated. When I walked into the Lab on Tuesday morning, I felt as if every eye in the place could spot something wrong. I felt for sure that they could see right through me . . . but after a while, my fears subsided. No one suspected a thing as I easily passed for the real Dr. Westbrook. The strangest part of the week had been dealing with the news about David Freeman's (my) death. It was so eerie listening to others talk about me in the past tense. I tried to act natural . . . but it was difficult. At times, I had to step away from it all and take a break. But through it all, I managed to stay focused and had accomplished most of my goals. First and foremost . . . I had managed to plant a series of sophisticated program viruses deep within the G.E.N.E.S.I.S. database using Dr. Westbrook's security clearance to access sensitive areas. At precisely midnight, during Saturday night's scheduled daily backup, G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would corrupt itself by overwriting & scrambling it's own programming. Even better, all the archives & saved backups for the entire project would also be corrupted. By the time anyone could even react to the program alarms . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would be reduced to an irrecoverable pile of bits & bytes. In less than 15 minutes, the whole project would be wiped clean! And with the death of the real Dr. Westbrook . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would be no more. In the mean time, I had copied a bogus `blueprint' of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. onto DVD. To the untrained eye, the schematics and mathematical formulas would seem genuine . . . but after a few months of trying to reconstruct it, the `plans' would only lead to frustration instead of success. I would pass it on to `Ivan' and collect the first half of my $150,000,000 tomorrow night. Saturday morning, I'd skip town and claim my cash at the Bank in the Cayman Islands that it had been wired too. Before anyone could even tell that I'd pulled a fast one . . . I'd be long gone!! The sound of a buzzer drew my attention back to the present. I reached down and took the pills that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. had spit out before me. I placed them into my briefcase, along with the other solutions that I had prepared, and was on my way back to the doctor's brownstone. Chapter 13 Friday September 5, 9:03 PM The corner of Baker & Elm St. As I drove up, `Ivan's' now familiar Black Cadillac sat perched in its usual place. As I glanced in my rearview mirror, the headlights of my "24 hour surveillance team" pulled up behind me. I exited the car and walked across the street . . . `Ivan' got out to greet me. "Evening my good doctor, you look charming this evening," he said with a sly grin. "Let's knock off the crap," I said sternly. "I believe we have some business to conclude?" "Ah yes . . . direct and to the point," he said. "You have the `blueprints'?" I reached into my purse and pulled out a small package. I handed it over to him. "Inside," I said. "Are 18 DVD disks. In your hand . . . you hold the entire set of plans to G.E.N.E.S.I.S." "For your sake," he said while squinting his eyes. "I hope so . . ." I smiled and said, "I've encrypted the entire set . . . so without an access password, it's completely useless. As soon as I you prove that you've held up your end of the bargain . . . the password is yours." "Very good doctor . . . very good," he chuckled. With a snap of his fingers, one of his men handed him a cellphone. "$75,000,000 has been deposited in this Bank in the Cayman Islands. It is currently awaiting a "personalized security password" to initialize it. Once a password has been given to this account, no one can access a penny without it. When you arrive at the Bank for the first time, give the password. You will then be ID'd and fingerprinted . . . from that moment on, you will be the only person in the world capable of accessing those funds. But it seems that one of us needs to make the first move . . . so, in an effort to be trusting . . . here is the telephone number of the bank along with the deposit confirmation number." He handed me a slip of paper. I took his cellphone and began dialing . . . an automated menu greeted my ears. After entering the account number & confirmation number, I was prompted to enter a 10 digit "personalized security password" to initialize the account to me. Once doing so, the recording urged me to "ID" my account by personally showing up at the Bank and presenting the previously entered 10-digit password. Once photographed and fingerprinted, the account would be truly secure. After listening to all of the instructions carefully . . . I hung up the phone and gave it back to `Ivan'. "Now it's your turn," he said smugly. Just remember one thing doctor, if the password you give me, or any of the information on these disks proves to be a fraud . . . you will be killed without hesitation. Is that acceptable my good doctor?" I nodded my head. "No problem. The access password is SFG9457J37KMS6". He wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it, along with the disks to a man in the back seat of the car. As I peered through he window, I could tell that the man was accessing the disks on a portable computer. After a few minutes, he gave a thumbs up signal to `Ivan' who in-turn, turned to me and said, "Very good doctor, it seems as though you have held up your end of the bargain. We will be in touch. Just remember the rest of the agreement. You will remain and impersonate Dr. Westbrook until we have assembled a working prototype . . . at that time, you will be contacted and the rest of your money will be deposited to the same bank. Just remember one thing," he said sternly. "You will be under surveillance 24 hours a day! If you have double-crossed us in any way . . . or if you try to `get away' from us and escape with your money . . . you will not live to see the light of the next day! Are we clear doctor?" "Crystal" I said calmly. "Good. Until we talk again doctor . . ." he said while tipping his hat. I firmly clutched the piece of paper that he had given me and turned to head back to my car. As I did, the `goon squad" came along with me. Once back at the doctor's brownstone, I hurried to her office and pulled out my briefcase. As I opened it, I took a deep breath . . . "Well Dave . . . it's time for `the great escape'!" Chapter 14 Friday September 5, 11:24 PM Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C. I looked down at the pirated genetic cocktails before me. On one hand, I wasn't looking forward to putting my body through another painful transformation . . . but on the other hand, I couldn't wait to get back into a `male' body again. Although I have to admit that being in a woman's body for a week was interesting, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of it!! I was a man . . . and in no way, shape or form . . . did I intend to spend the rest of my days wearing panties and a bra!! I grabbed a container of pink fluid . . . concentrated binding matrix. After drinking it and waiting about 30 minutes, I injected myself with another dose of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. serum that I had prepared after hours last night. As I felt the cool fluid flow through my veins, my mind started to visualize the new body that would be mine for the rest of my life. That of a 26 year old male. Incredibly fit & very good looking. "Hell . . . if you get the chance to pick your own body . . . you might as well go all out," I thought. After another 15 minutes, I downed the last of my chemicals. Two small blue pills . . . an experimental genetic accelerator which basically condenses the entire transformation process to about one third. That way, I'd be able to sneak out of here in the morning before the `goons' outside became suspicious. I'm sure that by late-morning they'll be suspicious that they haven't seen Dr. Westbrook emerge . . . but by the time they come inside to investigate . . . I'll be long gone and on a jet half-way to the Cayman Islands. By mid-afternoon, I'll be a millionaire and with my new identity . . . able to start a completely new life! Chapter 15 Saturday September 6, 9:16 AM Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C. It was all a blur, as the night seemed to take forever. But it was worth it as the sight of a well-muscled body and a penis between my legs once more greeted me in the mirror. I reached down and touched it as the familiar sensation of my genitals swelling made my body tingle with excitement. I couldn't help it . . . within moments I began to masturbate . . . enjoying the sensations that I'd only lost for a week but felt like an eternity. After cumming violently on the doctor's bathroom countertop . . . I took a good look at myself in the mirror. Everything had worked to perfection. Before me stood an incredibly good looking (& well- endowed) young man. Dark hair, blue eyes . . . athletic build. It was perfect. A smile came to my face as I took in the whole package. I soon snapped myself out of it as I hurried to put on some male clothes that I had purchased the other night. After doing so, I grabbed my wallet and headed out the back of Dr. Westbrook's brownstone. As I came out from around the back, I casually strolled past the men in the car that were supposed to be watching me. It worked like a charm . . . they didn't even flinch. After walking a couple of blocks, I hailed a cab and was off to the airport. Chapter 16 Saturday September 6 (later that day), 4:21 PM The Grand Bank, Grand Cayman Island "Good Afternoon Mr. Thompson" a well-dressed attendant at the bank said as he glanced at my forged identification. "I understand that you'd like to "ID" an account?" "That's correct," I said calmly. "May I have the account number?" the man said. "Sure," I said. I recited it from memory. After looking into his computer screen and pausing a moment he said, "Here it is. Ah yes . . . this account has been initialized with a 10 digit security password. Can you give me the correct 10 digit password for security purposes sir?" Once again, I gave the man the correct numbers from my memory. "Very well Mr. Thompson . . . if you'll allow me a few moments, I'll gather the appropriate documents so that we can formalize the account in your name." "Absolutely," I said with a smile. In about 45 minutes, everything was complete. I withdrew a few thousand dollars and headed out the door with an incredible sense of satisfaction and a huge smile on my face. Chapter 17 Friday September 12 (one week later), 9:53 PM The Atlantic Beach Resort, Grand Cayman Island The woman sitting across the table from me (Kathy) was absolutely gorgeous . . . she was dressed in a short black velvet skirt & skintight matching white velvet top . . . but for some reason, I just wasn't in the mood tonight. I never thought I'd see the day that I said that . . . but perhaps a different woman every night of the past week had left me a little on the bored side of things. Nevertheless, I downed a final drink with her and tried to excuse myself. "The evening has really been lovely . . ." I said. But the look in her eyes made me reconsider. "Why pass up a good thing," I thought. Even though it was against my better judgement, I went ahead and invited her up to my room. "Would you like to join me in my suite for a night cap?" I said softly. We hardly had time to crack open a bottle of champagne before she was all over me. I wasn't really sure if it was the money or this new body of mine . . . but whatever the reason, picking up women had become ever so easy. Her cool hands began to unbutton my shirt . . . it felt good but yet uncomfortable in a strange way. I recoiled ever so slightly, but then allowed her to continue. As my shirt slid off my shoulders and onto the floor, her lips made their way down my shoulder and onto my chest. She dug her fingernails into my back as her cold lips latched onto one of my nipples. Shivers went down my spine as I quickly slid my hands towards her shoulders to release her dress. As it fell to the floor she gently pushed me backwards until I ended up at the bed. Then, with me still standing . . . she began to kneel . . . her tongue making a cold wet trail down my stomach . . . her hands kept pace sliding down my back until they came to rest on my rear. Then without using her hands, she took my cock into her mouth. Still cold from sipping champagne . . . her lips sent chills through my body. Despite the incredible sensations, it was obvious that I really wasn't in the mood tonight . . . the semi-erect state of my penis was an obvious sign . . . hopefully she wouldn't be able to tell. In a couple of minutes she lay spread eagle before me. It was my turn to please her, but my lack of enthusiasm caused me to skip to the final act. I crawled on top of her and with my right hand began to insert my cock into her wet vagina. In my semi-flaccid state, it took me a couple of tries . . . but finally . . . success. After what seemed like forever, and with the help of my fingers, I was finally able to bring her to climax. Even though I wanted too, I was unable to duplicate her orgasm. But nonetheless, it was a relief to get this little affair over with. I got up and excused myself to the bathroom. There I splashed some cold water on my face. I wasn't feeling very well . . . achy in fact . . . and just wanted to crawl into bed and get some sleep. A few moments later I emerged from the bathroom. In my hands was a warm-up suit that I had left hanging earlier on the back of the door, I kindly tossed it at Kathy and asked her to put it on quickly and leave. I could tell that she was annoyed at my abruptness, so I tried to be nice explain that I wasn't feeling very well. When she began to become insulting to me, I changed my tone of voice and `helped' her find her way out in a hurry . . . not even giving her enough time to gather up her clothes that lay strewn across the floor. After slamming the door behind her, I made my way back to the bed . . . I was so drained . . . so tired . . . all I wanted to do was sleep . . . Chapter 18 Saturday September 13, 11:16 AM The Atlantic Beach Resort (Penthouse Suite), Grand Cayman Island I rolled over . . . still groggy. "God . . . what a miserable night's sleep," I thought. I felt like I had hardly slept a wink . . . and my head . . . it was pounding like some bad hangover. All I could remember was feeling really sick and spending until the wee hours of the morning in the bathroom vomiting. I moved my hand to my face to rub the sleep from my eyes. As I did, a sharp fingernail poked inadvertently into my cheek. "What the . . . ???" I thought. I sat up quickly to take a look at my hand. But the awkward movement of my chest drew my attention elsewhere. I didn't need to look down . . . I had felt it before . . . I tore off the covers and ran into the bathroom to see what I already knew . . . I had breasts . . . and was most likely a woman once more. My mind spun around in circles. "How . . . I don't understand . . . this can't be!!!!!" But it was. Something had gone haywire . . . somewhere . . . somehow! Sure enough, my reflection confirmed my worst fears. I had inexplicably transformed (in an accelerated fashion) overnight back into a woman. But this time, it was most definitely NOT the body of Dr. Westbrook . . . it was someone I'd never seen before. "How . . . how can this b