For The President's Eyes Only: Project Sweetpea free porn video

For the President's Eyes Only: Project Sweetpea By DEE DEE PERRI CHAPTER 1 The agent's eyes swept the crowded room once again with professional efficiency. To one untrained in his science, it would appear as a casual, almost bored, cursory examination of the restaurant, but a skilled observer would have noted the brief, almost imperceptible pause- the agent had detected something interesting. Now using the menu to partially obscure his actions, the man visually confirmed his initial findings. Yes! Donald Jacobs: reporter for the Post, anti-establishment, leftist, anti-military (of course) and aggressive- at least when it comes to a story. D.C., of course, was always crawling with reporters so Jacob's presence here is hardly extraordinary- but the man next to him...? Special Agent Kendi had a prodigious memory for faces, a fact of which he was exceptionally proud, but at this moment it was failing him and that irritated him. I should know that face. The clothing and demeanor- a young man on the fast "belt" track. Probably one of those hot shots brought in by the new administration- of course! All I need to do is concentrate. Exactly where have I seen him before? ******************************************************* Three men were meeting in an obviously well appointed office. From the large bay window could be seen, starkly illuminated against the night, the Washington Memorial. The absence of street traffic in this normally congested city signaled the lateness of the hour. DuBork, a short, fat man who looked every inch the bureaucrat that he was, continued speaking: "...but gentleman, to be safe we simply must go on the assumption that my assistant has deduced something regarding..." "Smilie!" Interrupted the youngest of the three men. Even if he hadn't been in uniform, one could have readily ascertained from the man's bearing that he was General Max Paxton. "What could he know? Hum?" The general shrugged expansively as he held his open hands out, palms up. From his face it was obvious that he held the bureaucrat's concern in some contempt. "If your so afraid of this young man...reassign him- fire him- hell- I could arrange for him to have an accident..." "OH MY!" Exclaimed the Director of Operations. He wasn't and had never been a field operative. It just wasn't in his frame-of-reference to contemplate "murder" as an acceptable solution to a problem. At this particular moment he wished that he had never allowed himself to get involved in what Max referred to as the blackest black project of all time. Right up there with the Bomb. Indeed, the project was so black that none of the normal rules applied. As the President himself had said, if for any reason the project ever came to light, he would deny all knowledge. It would be labeled a rogue operation. Black was black and if they fell, there would be no safety net for anyone in this room. "Oh my..." This time he muttered under his breath. Dr. Henry Appel was the intellectual and spiritual leader of the group. The tall, thin man with the halo of white hair that nearly concealed his bald dome listened with rapt attention but had as yet to add to the discussion that had been going on for nearly an hour now. It was to him the fat man finally turned his gaze. DuBork's expression was a plea to Dr. Appel to return to something approaching normalcy. Murder- the idea was personally appalling to Smilie. The good doctor gnawed on his knuckle thoughtfully before finally breaking his silence. "I'm afraid you are both correct gentleman. I've had a chance to study Dr. Roberts' folder and...well Smilie, this young man, unfortunately, may very well know exactly to what limited purpose a Fuger Modulator can be employed. Pity, that..." Dr. Paul Roberts, Assistant Professor of Biology at Cal Tech, on a one year visiting appointment with the Environmental Protection Agency, gads mused Dr. Appel, how unfortunate indeed. Had they but chosen say the Department of Transportation as a cover or had a Psychologist or a Anthropologist been selected for the position...but enough crying over spilt milk. "Gentleman. Harsh measures may well have to be taken. But..." He turned his gaze upon the anxious face of his long time friend before continuing, "we shouldn't forget the truly noble purpose upon which we are engaged. An alternative to weapons of mass destruction, manipulation of the human frame of reference rather than death. A more humane..." "It seems ironic..." Interrupted DuBork. "to have to slaughter this innocent young man..." "Slaughter?" Replied Dr. Appel. "For heaven's sake man, I didn't mean to imply that it would be necessary to..." Relief sprang into DuBork's face even as General Paxton's eyes registered alarm. Sputtering, the General now interrupted, "You don't mean to use the weapon system upon HIM?" ***************************************** "Look Don. I got to make this short and sweet." "You got something more?" "Naw, not yet." Paul bit his lip before continuing. "They have me under constant surveillance. Damn it- well I'm almost certain. Look, I just want to be sure that if anything happens to me that you'll keep digging on this..." "Christ kid. If a tenth part of what you said is true- hell it'd blow this whole administration apart. Biological weapons development..." "Probably viral!" Interrupted Paul. "Yea, whatever. That'd go against the President's own Executive Order announced with such fan-fair this Spring...and the bill approved overwhelmingly by congress last month...and the international agreement just signed...But what I can't figure out is why? Why even bother...what with the Ruskies going belly up and all. Who are they afraid of?" "Don, it doesn't matter who. You know about the great pan- epidemic during the first World War. More people died in that than in both world wars combined. Anyone who would even contemplate using viral agents as a weapon has to be mad...Look, I don't think either of us are safe." Donald Jacobs' features drew together into a frown. "Kid, I don't really think they'd take on the press. Christ, look at what happened to Nixon. Anyhow, let's not get too melodramatic about all this. My guess is that they will find something safer for you to do, ya know. Jacobs thought as he looked at the worried man across the table from him: I've seen this before, young man comes to town and gets swept up in the power of the place. Starts to go paranoid and all. Been there and done that. No sir, Donald Jacobs ain't going to bite the big one on this unless the kid can generate something substantial. Spooks around every corner- HA! And at the Environmental Protection Agency at that! There is just too much here that doesn't make sense to bring it before my editor- not before Albert Ball, no sir! Not me! ***************************************************** Dr. Henry Appel was giving his long time friend an unnecessary lecture about things that DuBork was already quite aware of- thank you. But DuBork allowed the older man to ramble on none the less. As a friend he realized that Henry needed to rationalize his own behavior to himself. "If there is anything we learned by the disaster in Iraq was that simply destroying that monster's military force would bring no real solution. Our leadership has been slow to understand the structure of political power in most of the second and third tier countries- and they are the real threat to world stability now. And that threat will continue well into the next century." He looked meaningfully toward his only listener. About the time Smilie was beginning to feel that he was finally off the hook, Henry began again. "Assassination! We tried that, didn't we? The fools in Washington didn't understand. A man is killed by his enemies and a brother, a cousin, an uncle gladly comes to take his place. Oh! And kill a whole family, not only does the world turn against you, but members of the same village, tribe, whatever, stride into the vacuum. These are not societies driven by the same rules that mark us. And Oh! How they love martyrs! But strip away the complexity and what do you see? Male dominated societies, warrior based leadership. Mark the leader as effeminate and who will follow? None!" Sensing that Henry was done with his tirade, Smilie interjected, "So is that what will happen to our Dr. Roberts?" "But of course." DuBork's face scrunched into a frown for he failed to see how this would eliminate the young man as a threat to the project. How would this keep the press at bay? "When?" "Yesterday. The system was activated yesterday." ******************************************************* There was something wrong and Paul knew it. Like an object just at the outer limits of my visual field, indistinct-not quite visible. Yet every time I try to turn toward this THING, it scurries out of reach. I'm like a dog chasing my own tail! Nothing is wrong and yet nothing is exactly right either. It has to be the accumulation of stress. Maybe that reporter was right, I am over reacting. The feeling of being watched all the time- paranoia? I just want it all to go away. Damn! I wish Kitty and I were back in California and away from all this SHIT! Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted. "POINT! GAME!" His racquetball partner looked at him curiously. "Guess, your heart isn't in it today, huh?" "Just setting you up pal." Paul snapped back, a grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. "You ready to put it ALL on the line Boyo? Your playing against a native Californian ya know, not some porky-fat Eastern slob." His partner settled into a crouch. "Loser serves." As Paul move to the service line he consciously cleared his thoughts. He couldn't remember the last time that his partner had really cleaned his clock. And if a 21 to 7 finish wasn't getting cleaned. But it wouldn't happen again! He promised himself that. Paul double faulted on his serve and from that point on, the game proceeded to go steadily down hill. The necessary snap in his wrists as he attempted to bring the racket through the ball just wasn't there most of the time. And it wasn't as if he was still distracted. He gave it his all but less than ten minutes later- "POINT! GAME!" "Sorry buddy." Paul said as he gather up his things and headed for the door. "We still got another twenty minutes on the court but..." He shrugged his shoulders and left. Moments later, his partner joined him in the locker room. Paul was buried in his own thoughts so he didn't notice his friend looking at him curiously. At first it was almost as if he wanted to throw the game. But in that last game. That was weird. My little sister plays better than that, in fact, that's almost exactly how he played. Jesus, did I piss him off or something. Was he making fun of me or what?" In spite of himself, the man was getting more and more irritated. Biting his tongue so as to avoid starting an argument, he stomped into the shower. Had anybody who knew Paul well been standing in the locker room as he finished undressing they would have been shocked. His movements had become more liquid, feminine. As he stood there, looking around for his arrant towel, unconsciously he stood on the ball of one foot as his other foot came nearly off the floor. Now the latter foot touched the floor only with its big toe, the cocked knee poked into its opposite thigh. His left hand rested on his hip while the right one simply hung in broken wrist fashion as he turned and scanned the room. The towel had fallen to the floor. Rather than bending from his waist, as he would have done yesterday, he knelt down slightly with his knees together and the gracefully stood up again. Turning, one hand once again on his hip, he crossed the room to the shower. There was a decidedly mincing quality to his walk as if his stride sprang more from his knees than would usually be the case. Fortunately, no one, including his partner, witnessed this display. His partner having showered and dressed quickly wasn't there when Paul emerged Venus-like from the foam. With every moment, Paul's motor patterns were becoming increasingly feminine. A fact which had still not registered on the otherwise typical thirtyish male. But he was increasingly aware that all was not well as he studied his reflection in the mirror. He was different, profoundly different yet the face and half dressed body was precisely as it should be he noted. Finally he gave up in disgust. "There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with me!" he said out loud to himself and stomped from the room, wiggling in a most seductive and feminine fashion. ***************************************************** Paul knew that Kitty wouldn't be home for at least another 40 minutes, so he decided to surprise her by making dinner. Removing his tie and jacket, he put on one of her lacy aprons, rolled up his sleeves and pitched into it. By the time Kitty arrived, dinner was nearly ready. The table was set and an open bottle of wine was already "breathing" between two lit candles. The little home maker had his back to Kitty as she entered the kitchen. Scurrying from pot to skillet, Paul was oblivious to the fact that he was being watched. And watched he was. She was sure he knew she was standing there, the way he was behaving and all. The back of a bent wrist being used to brush back a wandering strand of hair from his eyes, the ultra-feminine way he stooped to look into the oven. In little wiggling steps he minced about. Finally she could take it no longer. With tears in her eyes and laughter in her voice she said, "Oh Paul stop it! I don't look that bad...do I?" Paul whirled about, his right hand daintily patting his chest, "OH! God Kitty you startled me." "Sure Tarzan." She said wryly. Nodding her head toward the dinning room she said, "OK if I just let you serve me?" "But of course!" Paul replied in his best French accent and then preceded to make an absolutely adorable curtsy. That was simply too much for Kitty. Her sweet feminine little laugh was replaced by her big horsy one as she disappeared into the next room. ******************************************************* The humor was beginning to wear thin somewhere between the salad and the main course. It was absolutely bazaar the way that Paul could simultaneously be talking about serious, absolutely serious government stuff while putting on this ridiculous feminine charade. And when she finally told him to stop. That enough was enough- they got into this absolutely crazy argument. Her flare of anger was quickly squelched by her growing fear that her wonderful, sweet mate was going nuts. That maybe all this paranoid stuff was just the beginning of some kind of nervous breakdown. Finally she couldn't stand it any more: "Paul, your getting really, really, really weird sweetheart." He put the tips of his fingers to his mouth, just lightly on the lower lip. His eyes grew big, his expression was one of real hurt and he moaned. "Kitty, it's me- your big teddy bear." "Teddy bear! Jesus H. Christ Dr. Roberts! Look at yourself in the mirror! Your behaving like some kind of...of...PANSY." "NOT" He thundered. But as he stood up to confront her, eyeball to eyeball, each hand rested daintily on their respective hips and stomping one foot down he repeated himself: "NOT!" "Man-o-man." She moaned as she backed away from his now crimson face. "All your talk about some monstrous governmental operation involving a new aids-like disease and now your acting like some kind of fruit...your frightening me..." He poked one finger toward his chest and cocked his hips, the other hand cupped the out thrust hip. "Me? ME CRAZY! YOU...YOU THINK I'M..." For the first time in their relationship, she no longer felt as if she knew her boy friend. His exaggerated, feminine behavior was simply too...uncanny to be just make believe. It was too bazaar coming on as it had in the middle of this growing paranoia about some new biological weapon. Christ! she thought, The world is at peace now, after nearly 60 years! Paul is nuts! Kitty fled the house out of fear for her own safety. "PANSY...NUTS, WHICH IS IT!" Paul yelled as he followed her out of the house. Part of him wanted to chase after her, to some how make amends but another and stronger part of him had been deeply offended. Five years! They had been together for five, friggin years and for what? Attacking my manhood! Jesus, all I did was make dinner. Kreeeerist! What got into her any way? ***************************************** In spite of his lingering anger, Kitty's emotional departure left Paul feeling empty and so totally alone. And then there was that dark foreboding that had been growing inside him all day that all was not exactly right. What had she seen? Why did she react the way she did? He turned away from the cluttered dinner table and minced into the living room. One hand pressed flat upon his chest and the other fluttering about like a butterfly looking for a place to rest, he began to pace. Back and forth he minced with dainty, feminine steps, deep in thought. There is something wrong...but for Christ Sake...WHAT? He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd paced the length of the living room or even exactly when he'd become aware of his reflection off the large mirror on the side wall. But when he finally began to see, really see himself, his fretful pacing stumbled to am embarrassed halt. "Huh? Holly Cow!" He moaned. Fucking A...Kitty was right! He thought as he looked at his limp wristed hand poised at his waist. Self-consciously he forced both hands to his side, palms spayed out. What-in-the-Hell is happening to me. Is this crazy or what?" He advanced toward the mirror only to have his body betray him again. Like I got a friggin corn cob up my ass." He gritted his teeth and focused upon his stride. A wash of relief swept across his body when he was rewarded by a more masculine movement. But it wasn't natural. He had to remind himself with each step exactly what he wanted to accomplish and focus upon doing just that. It was crazy, like he'd forgotten how to walk or worst because he knew exactly how-to-walk...As A FEMALE! This can't be happening. He noted with full blown alarm. One doesn't just switch one's sexual style! One doesn't spontaneously adopt a whole new manner of behavior. Kitty was right by God, I'm flipped out or...something. Queer? THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING! As if mocking Paul and his fear, his hands flew daintily to his chest as if to say "OH MY!" The word NUTS! echoed again and again through his mind. What ever concerns he'd had earlier this day had been crushed under the impact of this direct assault upon his core identity. Dr. Henry Appel would have been pleased, very pleased that the weapons system had functioned exactly as he'd anticipated. There was simply no way for Paul to connect his current predicament with the acts of his own government...it was just too crazy. ***************************************** If it hadn't been for that bottle of Scotch, Paul would never have been able to fall asleep last night. And in the morning, much to his continued discomfort, he discovered that his "night mare" had not ended. His new, feminine persona greeted him as he entered the bathroom. Even through the pain of the hangover he was continuously reminded of his altered behavior. And there was more, much more to deal with. As he stood naked before the mirror he became aware of a growing discomfort...with himself. It was like he'd awaken utterly filthy, unclean. The urge to shave his entire body was almost overwhelming. Gritting his teeth against this latest compulsion, he completed his morning toilet and began to dress for work. How-in-the-Hell can I go to work like this?" He decided to call in sick. I mean, if there ever was a time to call in sick- this was it. Wasn't it? But when Sally his secretary answered the phone, poor Paul was in for an even greater surprise. "Hi Sal." He quipped. His throat had tightened when he'd attempted to talk. The voice, his voice, rang rudely falsetto. Sally's confusion was evident in her reply. "Sorry Sally." He forced himself to continue. "Ah, it's me, Dr. Roberts and well..." DAMN IT! WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY FUCKING VOICE. He covered his disorientation. "Just tell Smilie that I will not be coming in...It's ah...I got a cold or something and ah..." Sally's voice, laced with concern, interrupted him. She liked him, really like him. Too bad he'd been taken...anyhow, that was another matter. "Sorry Dr. Roberts. Mr. DuBork told me that he needed to meet with you this morning. Anyhow, what he said exactly was that come Hell or high water-" Paul groaned his displeasure. "OK Sal. As soon as I can pull myself together." ***************************************** Dr. Henry Appel was quite beside himself when Smilie took the expected call from Dr. Roberts' secretary. Excitement splashed across his face and animated his features. "Smilie this is so....exciting. Laboratory tests are one thing but..." "Henry. I don't think you should be here when the boy shows up, you know." "Of course not." His excitement fell slightly. "But of course the closed system video will give you a first hand view of our...subject." But Smilie was talking to Dr. Appel's back as the older man quickly exited the room. A couple of minutes later, Dr. Paul Roberts enter. "Glad you could make it Paul. Ms. Williams told me you were a little under the weather and I surely appreciate the fact that you left your sick bed to come here." It was all that he could do not to react to the odd, feminine behavior that seemed to leak out of the young Ph.D. But years of service to countless generations of administrations that had come and gone in Washington D.C. had been ample training for the fat bureaucrat. "Paul? That clean water proposal that you have been working on..." "Yeth?" Paul responded in a falsetto voice with just a trace of a lisp. DuBork threw out his grandest political smile, one that he usually reserved for the President himself, before continuing. "The Senate Sub Committee finally agreed to listen to your proposal. This afternoon. Isn't that great?" Paul's features crumbled. Oh my God. He thought. After cooling my heels for four months waiting for a chance...but NOT NOW! Christ! The frigging sub committee...it'd be a three ring circus, cameras, press and ME...swishing around. Simpering like some kind of school girl... "Paul?" Concern rode on Smilie's brow. "I thought you'd be...well, elated. After all the work you put into..." "Can't!" Paul's falsetto jumped another octave from his exploding stress. "Smilie?" He whined. "I got problems...personal, werry personal problems wight now." "Young man!" Growled DuBork. "Short of resigning, I can't take NO from you on this. The Senate's request IS an ORDER!" Like a bug abandoned on a collector's straight pin, Dr. Paul Roberts' face and body twisted in anguish. "I...I quit." He stammered. All he could think about was rushing from the room at that instant. And then his wish became action. Smilie didn't let the grin that worked its way to the surface out until the young man had left the outer office. There! That's done. By his own mouth, our Dr. Roberts has severed his union with our operation. By-God Henry was right- as always! Done is done. But before he could even finish this last thought, Dr. Appel entered the office from the rear door. "Well Smilie? You a believer now?" "Henry? What's going to happen to that boy. Well, I mean..." "Don't worry Smilie. He's still a valuable experimental subject. His every movement will be carefully monitored. Data you know. Imagine this had been, say ah...Castro? Hum? And to think he doesn't even suspect how extensive the cognitive changes have already become..." "Cognitive changes?" "Smilie, you should read your own reports more carefully. First crashes the dominate pre-optic nuclei and then...several, shall I say key, mid brain structures will..." "And?" Interrupted Smilie. He'd never wished that the boy would come to, well, serious harm. "First a reversal of the stereo-typical gross motor patterns. You already saw that my friend. If the ape data hold, you'll be seeing a complete reversal of Dr. Roberts sexual identity...principally...ah...sexual object choice..." "Henry?" Interrupted an exasperated DuBork. "Please put it in layman's terms, Huh?" "Why Smilie, our young man is already homosexual now, its just that he doesn't know it...hum. To the extent that the process successfully reverses all of Paul's neurally related sexual mechanisms it seems hardly fair to label the boy a homosexual, hum, more like a woman in a man's body. Yes, that's better. A woman's brain in a man's body." "Sounds painful Henry." "Hum. It certainly could be a source of discomfort for our Dr. Roberts, yes, a discomfort. Now, what about this Mr. Jacobs...huh?" "The Reporter?" "Yes." CHAPTER 2 Dr. Paul Roberts, like most normal human beings, was a complex aggregate of identities: biologist, scientist, teacher, son, lover, Serria Club Member, Democrat, Californian and more, much more. But of all these "components" that were Paul Roberts, there was a single, common thread that joined the parts together to form the whole or at least that had been true before yesterday. The loss of his essential "maleness", which had been woven through his entire personality, left the pieces as, well, pieces. And some of the pieces no longer fit. Kitty was a good case in point. Friend, companion and, most importantly, lover for the last five years, Kitty no longer "fit" with the "new" Paul, the feminine Paul. Of course Paul didn't know this yet. Indeed since fleeing Mr. DuBork's office early in the morning, he'd literally been walking around D.C. in a daze. Maybe I should... The thought sent a chill down Paul's spine. Mental hospitals and their doctors, shrinks, were, to Paul, some kind of residue echo of the "dark ages". He couldn't help but think of the eighteenth century prints he'd seen of Bedlam. No not that! Anything but THAT! Christ, imagine what a Freudian would do with me. This last thought caused him to laugh out loud. The older woman setting on the park bench a few feet away looked at him sharply before getting up and rapidly striding away. I got to get control of myself. He thought as he watched the woman's flight. It wouldn't do to get arrested and... The idea of involuntary assignment to one of those "places" was too unsettling to contemplate. I no longer have a reason to be in D.C. and yet...it will be almost three months before I'm due back at Cal Tech. Hum...Well...If I going to have a nervous break down...I guess I couldn't have picked a better time to do it. This thought brought Paul little relief. Kitty had been more than a little inflexible on that point this morning when he called her: "Paul", she had said, "get psychological treatment or else..." The "else" was pretty obvious to Paul even in his current state of mind. Still the idea of going to a Psychologist/Psychiatrist or whatever, who probably happened to be dating one of her girl friends seemed a silly basis to, ah...resolve this extraordinary "problem". There MUST be a RATIONAL explanation for what has been happening! Damn! What possible use might a modern day witch doctor have- Hell! This was serious stuff. Paul Roberts was oblivious of the man...the "tail" that followed him from the park when he finally left. ***************************************** DuBork's refusal to allow Dr. Appel to "experiment" on that reporter Jacobs was simply intolerable. Even a whiff of this project appearing in the press, especially the Post, would be enough to kill the tenuous support he'd so carefully nurtured at the White House. Henry Appel's quandary hadn't been resolved by his brief visit with the General. Oh yes, he had "resources" but...something about the "chain of command". "We're not some banana republic you know." The General had responded. "We can't stoop to 'their' level." So there it stood. DuBork's misplaced morality threatened to derail what had been a thirty year effort on Henry's part. The old scientist was far from satisfied as he returned to his office above the huge research facility: "His" facility! As long as Dr. Paul Roberts remained in Washington, he mused, no, that was wrong. As long as Roberts remained credible, it didn't matter where he was. The man was smart and he had information, too much information. Sooner or later he'd connect the significant pieces together and then...my life efforts will have been wasted. Henry could feel the acid well up in his stomach. Well at least Smilie hadn't terminated the Roberts experiment. Dr. Appel began to study the latest report on the "subject". Although the team which was covering Dr. Roberts every movement provided reports hourly, there was still too little information, from Henry's perspective, upon which to work. He would have been far more comfortable if he could completely "control" the subject for lets say the next week or so. "Hum." He muttered to himself when he read the word-for-word wire tap. Dr. Deeks, Psychiatrist! Appointment! We'll intercept Roberts before he reaches the "real" Deeks. YES! Now the old man was vigorously rubbing his hands together in anticipation of having complete control of the subject- at last! ***************************************** Night had fallen in Chevy Chase and superficially all was normal in the Roberts household. Paul was already in bed waiting for Kitty to emerge from the bathroom. This is a test. He concluded nervously. She wants to see how I'll respond to her. Christ I'm scared. He almost jumped when she suddenly entered the bed room. "What do you think?" She said as she swayed invitingly toward her mate. "It bought it this afternoon." "Nice." The falsetto tones clashed with his otherwise masculine form. "Will-we." The uncontrollable lisp caused Paul to cringe inside. She really is sexy in the black night gown. But the thought was more intellectually driven than visceral. Not a whimper of response stirred in his groin. This could be a disaster! He suddenly thought as she leaned over him letting her nylon encased breasts slide across his face. He responded by putting his arm around her while lifting his head slightly to nuzzle the offering of flesh. The touch of warm nylon evoked a pleasant hint of erotic tension. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. He relaxed noticeably as Kitty climbed on top of him. The feeling of her long, flowing night gown sliding across his chest, belly, groin and thighs began to make his whole body buzz in anticipation. Thank God! He thought. ***************************************** Kitty went to sleep somewhat mollified. Some of Paul's sticky cum was slowly drying on the bed sheet under her. He hadn't been exactly great as a lover tonight but, well, adequate, all things considered. She'd had to take the initiative in all aspects of the love making, not that she minded that at all. But his passivity was so... complete. And when he'd finally cum...she cringed at the remembrance of "his" girlish shriek. He hadn't even "thrust" his penis as he came. She, not he, had driven their union home then. Still, he'd responded! And that was what was important right now for Kitty. The last thing she remember thinking as she fell into her sleep, I hope Deeks can give me back my Paul. Paul was not mollified. Indeed their "love making" had brought home just how much he'd changed. He hadn't made love to her, she'd made love to him. It was the feeling of being covered in "her" night gown, the movement of nylon against his skin that had brought him to a sufficient arousal so as to avoid a complete disaster. And he'd maintained that arousal by pretending...that he was a woman. He'd pretended that "his" penis was "hers"... He waited until Kitty's rhythmic breathing signaled that she was asleep before he gingerly climbed out of bed. I have to know! He thought as he drew open one of the closet doors and removed some of "her" clothing. Now, very quietly, he slipped from the dark room and down the hall to his study. He listened for a few breathless moments for some sign that Kitty might have awaken and then, when satisfied that she hadn't, he closed and locked his door. Sick! Was all he could think as he let the slinky material slide through his fingers and down his naked body. Something inside his gut quivered as the tactile sensations reached his brain. The sexy sensations, like he'd experience in the bed room, had really been evoked by the feel of this material on his skin as he had feared. It was the night gown and not Kitty he'd responded to. OK then I'll see that damn shrink! I'm no...whatever. Nervously he tried to put on the gown. It was too small and, damn it, he looked like a horse's ass. Hair! I'm covered in frigging hair like some kind of monkey. Before today and especially tonight, Paul had been comfortable with his body but at this moment he realized he'd have given any thing to trade his body for Kitty's and damn the consequences. Jesus do I need help! ***************************************** Dr. Deeks wasn't at all like Paul had expected. The old, nearly bald man, was hardly one of Kitty's girl friend's boy friends. That thought alone had reduced Paul's concerns considerably. And then there was the man's style. Far more scientific and less psycho babble than he'd expected. Yea, maybe Dr. Deeks wasn't a witch doctor after all. His thoughts were interrupted by the Psychiatrist. "I don't meant to alarm you unnecessarily Dr. Roberts and without the necessary tests..." "What?" Simpered Paul. The old man shrugged his thin shoulders. "Radiological rests, Pet scan of course..." "You mean..." "Yes, I doubt that the symptoms you have are merely psychological." Paul felt relief. The idea of setting around and talking about his childhood...but the full implication struck and struck suddenly. "Neurological? Ah tumor?" "Unlikely. Dr. Roberts, I realize that thirty-two seems like a relatively young age but, well, I suspect that you may have had a stroke." "Stroke?" Paul squealed. "A micro-stroke to be sure. Fortunately for you, well my specialty has led me to see patients just like you before. Hum?" "You mean this, ah...shit that's happened to me isn't unique." "Hardly. Very rare in one as young as you but..." "Than something can be done for me?" The old man shrugged again. "Of course. Within limits. You know Dr. Roberts, as a scientist yourself, a biologist, well neurons are not replaced when they have been destroyed yet the brain can be remarkably plastic. Hum?" "Doctor, I'm in your hands. Whatever you think we need to do, well, do it." "I appreciate your obvious confidence in me Dr. Roberts." The old man laughed. "But perhaps you should seek a second opinion." "What? Go to another shrink, ah sorry Dr. Deeks. Its just that, well I don't believe that what has happened to me can be explained by my relationship with my parents or something. Besides, like you said, a PET scan would either confirm of refute your diagnoses wouldn't it?" The old man grimaced slightly. "It's not quite that simple. The lesion could be very small you know." He paused significantly. "I have, ah, access to a facility in Maryland. We can do the tests there. But Dr. Roberts, I believe that the extensive series of tests I envision might take the better part of a week." "No problem Doctor. Right now I'm, well you might say, unemployed. Besides, I can't think of anything more important right now than getting this mess cleaned up. OK when?" "This afternoon." Paul was surprised. So soon. Kitty would understand. Christ sake, she'd applaud the swift attention to this problem. "You know Dr. Deeks, your not at all like MD's I've known." I hope that is a compliment Dr. Roberts. ***************************************** Paul's voice was excited. "Doc, I can't believe this. I mean that I'm here and...and your doing this. Yesterday, after the PET scan results and you suggested this procedure, well I can tell you it scared the piss out of me." In spite of the sterotaxic his head was in and the "need" to keep his head still, Paul couldn't help but try to turn his head toward the doctor who stood above and behind his open skull. Of course he couldn't move even a millimeter in any direction. "Uncomfortable Dr. Roberts?" "Christ no! I mean that's what is so remarkable. Being wide awake with you "in" my brain. No, not at all. It's just, you know, when I was a graduate student and we read the work of Penfield." "Oh yes." Responded Dr. Appel. He was only listening with about five percent of his capacity to the young man's prattle. It is fascinating to actually see what my system has performed. Not unlike the primate subjects. So much for the uniqueness of the human brain. Too bad I can't afford to take extensive tissue samples. "Intellectually of course I knew that the brain was without receptors but still the idea of actually being fully awake while your in there... What was that?" "You feel something?" "Yea. What are you doing?" "You remember the work of Dr. Penfield well enough, how about the work of Olds." "Limbic stimulation? Doc that's a long way from the pre-optic nucleus." Concern was evident in the young man's voice. "Sorry Paulie, I lied to you about what I was going to do." "HUH!" Paul was growing hysterical. Just at that moment the monitor in front of him came alive. And there was Kitty's face. "What the..." The color photo dissolved and was replaced with a nude image of Kitty lying in their bed. "Christ where did you get that..." But Paul was unable to finish his sentence for at that moment a sense of revulsion that approached horror erupted inside him. Gagging he fought back his desire to throw up. "Gugh! Gugh!" He gulped as the sour sickness flooded his entire being. "Sush!" Ordered Dr. Appel. An instant later, Kitty's nude body faded from view and the horrible feelings began to dissipate. A full length picture of a nude male followed concurrently with the most incredible surge of pleasure. "HAH! HAH! HAH!" Exploded out of Paul's tightly clenched jaw as he felt himself rapidly building to a full scale climax. As horrible as the first wave of electrically induced feelings had been, the second were even more intense. Raw pleasure that easily exceed all that Paul had ever experienced with any woman. Dr. Appel bent near his ear as the young man strained to the tidal wave of erotic feelings, "A bit addictive, isn't it my dear girl, hum?" Seconds later, the nude male on the monitor was replaced with yet a different nude woman, an old girl friend from the period before Kitty. And as the visual transition was completed, the revulsion grew to replace erotic pleasure. Again Dr. Appel leaned near Paul's ear. "At Tulane, in the seventies, we once stimulated a human subject for over seven hours before he died. Don't worry, sweetie, I will not let you die. But by the time I finish my lunch, you'll never want another woman again, of that you can be sure." Paul wanted to scream at his tormentor but as he tried to form his mouth the screen changed again as did his "feelings." ***************************************** Dr. Appel's assistant looked worried. "He's unconscious." "Good. You can terminate the sequence now." He will not remember a thing, of course. But the conditioning should be rock stable. Still to be on the safe side, I better have George check the transponder before we close him up. With a chronic limbic stimulator in place, my boy-girl could become a valuable asset. "Oh? George, you did include that reporter's picture in the sequence, didn't you?" When his assistant nodded in the affirmative, the old man allowed himself to relax a notch. After all that was the purpose of this whole exercise, wasn't it. The mental picture of the young Dr. Roberts sexually fixated upon the homophobic Mr. Donald Jacobs brought a smile to the old man's face. But there was no warmth in his eyes. Already he was thinking about getting the President to commit a field run on a real target. One of the Arabs, yea, that'd work just perfectly. ***************************************** "Yea, a stroke! It had to be that frigging appointment with the EPA. Any how, a low salt diet and no more Federal bull shit...well almost." "Huh?" Responded Kitty. She had been distracted ever since she'd picked up Paul at the clinic. The way he'd reacted when she tried to kiss him...well it hurt. She'd never get the memory of the disgust that bloomed on his face out of her mind. "You understand, don't you." He said impatiently. His voice still had that girlish quality but at least the lisp was gone. He fluttered his hands in a most feminine fashion as he turned in the car seat to face her. "It means I'm not psychotic or paranoid or whatever psycho-babble you want to use. Kitty I just got to get to Jacobs as soon as we get back." A funny feeling twirled in his gut at the mention of Donald Jacobs. Jesus yes, I got to see Don one more time before blowing town. Just then a hint of her body odor wafted across the car chamber. That sickly feeling I had when she got too close is coming back. I wonder when she last had a bath. He cracked open the window and focused upon the swiftly passing landscape. ***************************************** Paul's hands were shaking noticeably after he'd hung up the phone. Don would be over in a few hours. It was odd the way his heart had begun to stutter step the moment the terse reporter had answered his phone. An irrational pleasure had erupted inside Paul during their brief conversation. It was all the more odd that he felt so...elated given that only a few hours earlier he and Kitty had the fight-to-end-all-fights! She was gone now and except for her things that she promised to pick up later, she'd be gone forever. And rather then feeling the loss, all Paul could think about was Donald. Humming some silly melody that had stuck in his mind all day, the effeminate man gaily ran up the stairs and into the bed room. He had hours to wait before Donald would get there. More than enough time to reconstruct his notes for the interview. That could wait. Without knowing why he threw open Kitty's closet door and just stared at the arrayed finery. The remembrance of what her night gown had felt like on his skin made him go tingly all over. A few minutes later, he slipped into the hot, soapy water that filled the tub. This hair goes! He decided as he picked up the razor and began to shave his chest. Before he'd finished his whole body, he'd changed the water in the tub three times. Still, in order to get the last of the hair off, he finally showered. Naked! I've never really been naked before. And it felt good when he slipped into some of Kitty's under garments. He'd long given up asking why he was doing what he was doing. It pleased him and that would have to be enough of an explanation. Still there was Donald to consider. The feminine finery would have to be hidden under masculine clothing of course. It was entirely surprising how...sensual the nylons felt under the tight blue jeans. Even covered he felt entirely feminine. With a twist of his posterior before the mirror he examined the image he projected. How so frustrating to appear so masculine and yet to be so utterly feminine. It was the first time he thought of himself as a woman trapped in a man's body. Woman! With that thought he sank onto the bed. Maybe that's why I've been looking forward to seeing Donald again. Woman! The brain is, after all, the major sex organ in the body. Like Dr. Deeks had warned, my brain is more female than male now. So do it...Naw, he'd kick me in the teeth first. ***************************************** "Hello?" Responded Dr. Henry Appel when he picked up the phone. "Your a genius Henry!" "But of course General." Henry smirked. "Is this phone absolutely secure?" "Of course General. As secure as yours or the President's." "Well I wanted to be the first to tell you. That reporter fellow kicked the living shit out of our Dr. Roberts. A first class A&B and the sucker's in jail." "Dr. Roberts?" Henry was pretending to be surprised. The fact was, he had a tape of the whole exchange between the two men that evening. "Intensive care. And you know what's really queer, he was wearing women's underwear. Yea. I think we can forget about both of them now. Just thought you would like to know. The Post wants to report news, not be news. Old man Ball, the owner-editor just shit canned Jacobs. Our leak has been plugged. Good work!" CHAPTER 3 "Barry? How do you work with it?" "Huh?" "What do you mean, Huh? Your major professor, you dolt. Shit and hell fire man, if Tech were selecting a home coming Queen today, Paulie Roberts could be the whole court." "That's not fair..." Began Barry Holkum, a fourth year doctoral student and Dr. Roberts only remaining graduate assistant. "Fair? She's a fucking drag queen I hear. You ought to go over to North Hollywood some Friday night." Doc Roberts' sexuality is his own business." Barry snapped back. A second graduate student, who had been leaning against the door frame the whole time finally joined in. "Maybe he has." "Huh? What-in-the-hell is that supposed to mean?" Barry growled at the younger man. "You saying I'm guilty by association or what? Besides what if he is gay, there's no law against that is there?" The first student responded, "Now as I hear it, some of the Alumnus are leaning on President Tucker. Anyhow, your boy friend might just find his way to tenure blocked." "That creep. Tucker's a weather vane all right. Geeze, does Professor Roberts know?" "Maybe you should tell him- sweetie!" Barry clenched his fist as if he might punch the other man and then though better of it. On impulse he spun on his heels and fled the graduate student lounge or at least attempted to. For at that instant Dr. Roberts entered the same room, coffee cup in hand. The youngish professor looked even less mature then he had when he'd first returned from Washington some six months earlier. His lean figure had grown increasingly slender, almost willowy, as the muscles on his body melted away. Or possibly it was the youthful smoothness of his skin, rumor had it that Dr. Roberts had been going in for treatments to remove his body and facial hair for months now. Whatever it was, in this age where short hair was in fashion again, the carefully combed hair that hung half way down his back, made him stand out in sharp contrast to the other males in the department. Oblivious of the fact that he was the center of the just ending conversation, Dr. Roberts pushed past the gaggle of student to make his way to the coffee pot. On a female, of which there were too few at Cal Tech, Paul's swaying butt and hips as seen from the rear would have raised considerable delight. But in the present context, it only confirmed the oppositions case. Embarrassed Barry waited for "his" professor. The others, raising their eye brows as if to say "See, I told you so, "and then left in mass. "I heard." Paul's falsetto voice echoed through the now empty room. His back was still toward Barry as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Thanks for the defense. Ah!" He murmured as he turned, the cup to his lips. Dr. Roberts continued to study Barry as he drank the hot, bitter brew. Finally he put his cup down. Even this movement was very feminine. "I prize loyalty almost above everything else Barry. But then, maybe you should escape while you can. I know Bob Prince would be willing to direct your dissertation" "Then you think its true?" "What? Oh the tenure thing. Yea, could be." "But that isn't fair." "Look kid, nothing fair. Look at me. I didn't choose to be this way it just...happened." Barry was dying to know how it happened, after all, Barry had worked almost two years with Paul before Paul and Kitty had left for Washington. And during that period... Paul recognized the look on Barry's face. "Tell you what, you come over this afternoon to my house and I'll tell you the whole story or at least the parts I've figured out, OK?" "Sure." Barry smiled. Oh Christ! What have I gotten myself into. In spite of his strong defense of Professor Roberts he himself wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of getting too close. ***************************************** It was only about three o'clock when he arrived at Dr. Roberts house but the December sun was already low in the western sky. Still it was California and the breeze carried the warm, dry desert air and it hardly seemed like the beginning of Christmas vacation. Of course, graduate students really never had a vacation. Barry pushed the door bell button and waited with a certain degree of dread. One minute passed into a second and was working on yet a third when he heard the sound of heels, obviously high heels, on hardwood floors. Oh God! It couldn't get any worst than this could it? "Hi. Sorry to take so long I was, well, still getting made you might say. She tittered. "Barry, please come on in." Geeze the make up- he hardly looks like himself. Barry grimaced uncomfortably. He tried to ignore the fact that Paul Roberts was wearing a dress that seemed to cling to "his" body. Or that "his" feminine gestures and walk now were entirely ordinary, that is dressed as he was now. If I didn't know any better I'd be sure that this was Dr. Roberts' younger sister. But where in the hell did all that cleavage come from? Or how does he hide it, anyway, when at school? "Come on Barry." Dr. Roberts had turned and was now standing there, hands on her hips, waiting. "Now I'm not going to bite, you know." "Sorry. I was just taken back by a...a" She wrinkled her nose in amusement at Barry's discomfort. "What do you think?" She raised her palms up above her shoulders and turned slowly as if demanding that Barry inspect her figure. When she finally completed her turn she said, with a twinkle in her eye, "I did it myself you might say. And everything you see is real." "Real?" Barry voice croaked. He was confused. "I'd been planning this transition for months now. But I didn't want something crude and awkward like the surgery for a sex change. It had to be real." "Real?" Barry repeated himself. With a grin, Paul simpered, "Not much of a conversationalist tonight are you Barry. When I left you this morning I didn't have these." She said as she cupped her hand under the breasts that threatened to spill out of the front of "her" dress. "No big deal, of course, a little silicon and...but Barry I grew these from scratch! You want to see?" Before Barry could reply, she'd already unhooked the bra and pushed down the front of the dress to reveal breast the size of oranges. "See, they're not done yet. The nipples, you see, not feminine at all yet. But just you wait." Barry's legs were growing weak. "Please Dr. Roberts!" He looked like he was going to faint right there on the spot. "Oh yes. This all must seem totally alarming to you now. Come here you sweet boy and sit beside me on the couch and I'll tell you a story of technology that will change human existence forever." She turned and walked briskly down the hallway toward her den. "Come, come." She ordered as she gestured with one up turned finger. Like a lamb being led to the slaughter, Barry followed the swaying backside. Oh mercy, mercy. He kept repeating to himself. Everything the guys had said was right. She/he wants to screw me. Fucking A how do I get myself out of this? "Nice." He lied as he walked into the study. It had been nice and masculine the last time He'd been there. But now, so utterly feminine. Only the stone fireplace remained from the original decor. "Here." She patted the cushion beside her. What's wrong?" She asked as an even more puzzled look came of Barry's face. "Oh!" She grinned sheepishly. "I told you they weren't 'done' yet." The breasts, her breasts had almost doubled in size in the last two minutes. She smiled prettily. "I just suspected that you liked them, ah, full." The poor man looked like he was ready to leap up and run from the house. But in reply to her question, he nodded dumbly. "Good!" She simpered. "You can't believe just how lonely I've been these last several months. I've needed someone more at my own intellectual level and then...this morning in the graduate lounge I realized that I had been over looking the obvious..." "Look Dr. Roberts, I am...I am sorry if I gave you any false..." "PLEASE!" She was growing irritated at Barry. "Barry I've known you almost four years now and we've been close, haven't we." "Yes Dr. Roberts. Leastwise before you went to Washington. But..." "Well I'm going to explain Washington and everything if you'll just listen." ***************************************** Barry was sitting at the opposite end of the long dinner table. A bottle of Champaign before dinner and a bottle of red wine during dinner had done much to reduce his anxiety. But as he sat there pointing his fork toward his host as he tried to make his point he still didn't believed a tenth part of what "she" had told him. "Now let me get this straight. They infected you with a virus that selectively destroyed several cortical, midbrain and brainstem nuclei..." "Yes. And these were unilateral lesions. Remember that! The virus was 'programmed' to seek out only androgen rich sites. They destroyed all the highly specialized systems that supported my 'maleness'." Barry grimaced at the term "maleness", it was hardly "scientific" or at least so he thought. "But if you discovered how to program these same virus so that you can..." He paused as he sought the right words, "manipulate your form at will, why don't you just, well 'fix' these neural centers? Huh?" Dr. Roberts twisted angrily in her seat. "As I said before, I can't manipulate dead tissue, like hair NOR can I manipulate CNS tissue since it does NOT regenerate. Christ sake, slow responding tissue like bone might take months to respond. Anyhow, soft tissue like these breasts you like, hum, hours. That's all, hours." "And why did they do this to you?" "Because I had discovered that they were running a black project." "Black?" "Yes. Authorized by the President of the United States without the approval of congress." Barry gaped. "The President?" "Yea. And I even voted for the son of a bitch." This was too crazy for words. Concluded Barry. I got no reason to believe that any of this is any thing but the wild fantasy of a mad man. Do I really know that this apparent woman setting down there isn't just Paul Roberts dressed to the nines with some trick falsies or whatever. Oh fuck I got to get out of here and soon before he makes his move. I wonder how dangerous he really is? "Barry?" "Yes." "I need you to help me." "Sure." He said nervously. "Its treason of course among other things. I plan to get even. With them all, even the fucking President." This really brought out a sweat on the graduate student's forehead. "Excuse me Doc but I got to go to the john." But Barry didn't stop at the john. The first sign of Paul's failure to communicate was the sound of the front door slamming shut. "Oh fuck!" she groaned. "And I was so much looking forward to trying out this new equipment." Rather than gaining an ally, I've lost a valued friend. In a fit of frustration, Paul yanked the cloth from the dinner table. Somehow the sound of breaking china softened the blow of her failure. "Alone again huh." ***************************************** Paula entered the bed room and flicked on the overhead light. Slowly she unzipped her dress and stepped out. From the other side of the room the mirror recorded the new woman's emergence. The black bra and matching black bloomers, both of silk, drew a vivid contrast to her pale white skin. "Oh Barry, you fool. Look at what you rejected." She sighed as her hands traveled across and around her sweet contours. The union tonight of her female brain with a wholly female body was not without costs. There were ovaries inside, she'd not lied to Barry, "she" was fully functional, and this coming together brought into sharp focus feelings that neither the male Paul nor the half feminized Paul could have appreciated. She was as fertile as a oyster and she had wanted nothing more than to sit filled with Barry's sperm tonight. Ah...but that would not happen. She felt lonelier then "he" had ever felt. Finally, having looked for any remnant of Paul she turned and entered the small but well equipped laboratory that was just behind the kitchen. Would she reverse the process or enjoy her frustrated union for the night? ***************************************** It was almost midnight in Washington D.C. as Dr. Henry Appel finalized the report that would initiate operation "Sweet Pea". Even Henry had to applaud the insight of the President. Once he'd fully come on board his innate political feel was nothing less than extraordinary. The "targets" weren't even foreign nationals. A couple of minor leaders of the religious "right" whose allegiance to the republican minority was a certainty had been selected. The one that promised a bucket of bonus returns was Abraham Holmes, an up and coming pro-life TV evangelist. Just visible enough on the all Christ satellite channel to make monitoring the out come easy and just remote enough from the main stream to cause his abrupt down fall to pass "almost" unnoticed. "Hum. Perfect." It was of course precisely the same "weapons system" that had been employed on the young Dr. Roberts. Within hours of delivery, the "targets" would become, well, obviously feminine in every aspect of their deportment. If, down the road, one or both of them were "inclined" toward "homosexual relations, well all the better from the President's perspective. The man wasn't beyond using back mail to keep the Republic on the correct tract. Still, the choice of U.S. nationals bothered Dr. Appel somewhat. After all he'd intended his research to bring an era of peace to the much abused world. When finally he'd complete the report marked "For The President's Eyes Only" and had the file sent off to the White House for review in the morning, Dr. Appel's mind fluttered back to the first human subject: Paul Roberts. A few seconds later he was looking at the latest surveillance report. "Hum." It was obvious that my instructions are being followed. That jerk President at Cal Tech was responding like a puppet on a string. At the end of the term, Dr. Paul Roberts would feel the boot of rejection. And then what? One thing for sure, he'd never again receive a Federal research grant. Should he be 'black balled' from academics? Or just left to rot in some small, four year college in some remote hick town. The latter brought a smile to Dr. Appel's face. He opened the drawer on the lower right side of his desk and removed the limbic stimulator controls. Even here, thousands of mile from Cal Tech I could bring his life to a crashing halt. Ah the wonders of satellite communication! Dare I? His finger hovered over the button for a few moments. The thrill of having that kind of total power surged through his old, frail body and then, almost sadly, he returned the device to it hiding place. It was enough that it was there, ready to do his bidding. ***************************************** For six months now Paul's brain and his body had been completely out of phase: one female and the other male. But for the past six hours, both were female. Maybe it was the absence of any competing male structures in Paul's brain for, unlike a "real" female who would have both dominate female nuclei and "partly" inhibited male centers, she was totally female, that was responsible for "her" growing distress. Paul had a lot to work on, especially if she were serious about taking on the establishment that had wrecked "his" identity but with each passing minute "her" ability to focus upon the task at hand was growing increasingly tenuous. Its not like I'm horny. Her fingers finished unbuttoning the white lab coat. Christ will you look at that! The nipples, elongated, pulsed with desire to be touched. Between Paul's legs, her crotch quivered with need. Her pulse was racing and it was all that she could do to stay here, alone in this house. No it isn't at all like being horny as a male. Fucking's only part of it. She began to giggle hysterically. And in a loud voice she informed the empty room, "Kreeeerist I fucking want to make BABIES!" Hurriedly she began running the set up on the home made Fuger Modulator. If I don't get back to my old form or at least out of this all too functional female one, I'll find myself on my back, legs spayed, with a hard prick sliding in and out. The vivid image caused Paul to shiver with delight. Not a bad idea. But there might be no coming back. Yea, when this is all done, that's exactly what I'll do. But first I got to... It was on line! Paul opened what had been at one time a shower stall door and forced herself to enter. This maybe the most difficult thing I've ever done. All I need to do is NOT touch that switch. Not revert! I know I could be happy. How difficult would it be to find a man tonight...not difficult at all. At that instant, Paul's finger touched the micro-switch and a powerful electro-magnetic field sprung into being. The programmable virus, which had replaced Paul's natural genes hours before, were receiving a new set of instructions. Translation, seven hundred milliseconds. Paul staggered from the chamber wild eyed. Maybe it hadn't worked. Her hand swept across the rigid nipples which in turn sent a sensual wave down Paul's entire body. The descending wave collided with the one working its way up from her groin. Wild, crazy thoughts were dominating her every conscious thought. She was going to get laid and that was that. Exactly two minutes later, wearing a sweat shirt, jeans and sandals, sans make up, sans anything else, Paul Roberts was driving toward Lake Avenue and a pick up bar. The John Bull was packed to over flowing. Indeed there were more customers out side than in and parking..."Hey! You!" Paul stuck her head out of the car window. Paul wasn't exactly a raving beauty but there