Reassignment
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Matrix: Reassignment free porn video
Matrix: Reassignment
By Radioactive Loner
Copyright 2000
A bit flipped somewhere in a plan, a place, a mathematical
certainty (as opposed to physical existence) that human minds
couldn't perceive even if they tried. And it wasn't really a bit,
per se. Binary systems... well this machine had evolved past
that. Its entire race had evolved past that. They may have even
evolved past the concept of the word 'machine'. Perhaps past
words altogether. But postulating about machine consciousnesses
millions of generations above one's own is a bit hard... it's
like an ant attempting to comprehend the architectural design of
the Empire State Building -- a bit too hard to grasp.
But, let us return to our story. Bits flipped, one after the
other, and, in short, the machines thought. Were the essence of
what they thought to be boiled down to human consciousness, one
would hear of the place from which they fed, from which their
life energy was given, and that was from the vast storehouses of
humanity hooked up to life support pods and placed into a virtual
reality scenario called "The Matrix" that was, in short, a
simulated normal everyday human life... but under the control of
the machines. Reality, able to be altered at the machines' will.
And it was indeed altered, and altered often... fine-tuned much
as one of these power sources might have fine-tuned his car years
upon years ago. And, just as a mechanic might have experimented
with various things to make his car run more powerfully, so these
machines tinkered with the humans and their artificial universe,
seeing what effect their tinkering had on the fleshy power
sources.
This is the story of one of those tinkerings. Your story.
As is their wont, the machines grew babies. Simple enough... the
human species needed to continue, to ensure the machines'
continuing power source. The manner of growth was quite hideous,
a parody of reproduction, artificial uteral sacs hanging in huge
masses off of machines supplying nutrients to the embryos, the
fetuses, and eventually the newborns.
The machines wished to experiment as to whether a human produced
higher energy when various conflicts were introduced between the
human's real self and their Matrix avatar. And so, one newborn
girl was red-flagged as her Matrix avatar was constructed by the
machines. The machines carefully crafted a male avatar and
plugged the young infant into the Matrix.
And the experiment began.
=-=-=
A life, lived: a man named Tony Walker, now 24. You.
A strange e-mail received one evening.
A man... a series of strange events.
A red pill and a blue pill.
A choice.
Your choice.
And the rescue began.
=-=-=
The pill is swallowed, and in its own unique way, the Matrix
begins to disconnect itself from you. Or, you begin to disconnect
yourself from the Matrix. The experience always manifests itself
as an extremely frightening pseudoreality, and with a gasp, your
world dissipates around you in the blink of an eye, a blink of an
eye that seems to stretch out into a timelessness that lasts an
eternity.
Yet when your eyes finish that blink, they reopen to a
frightening world, a world of dimly lit shapes floating in a
warm, odd, red goop. Everything feels odd, and more
frighteningly, you feel as if all your movements are muffled, as
if supreme effort is required to do anything.
Nevertheless, panic drives you hard enough that you begin to
pound on the top of this gelatinous coffin, and it promptly
opens. You're able to exert enough muscle control to sit yourself
upright, leaning your back against the open lid. A deeply indrawn
breath of dirty, carbonized, oily air is your next reaction, as
you see what greets your gaze: vast farms, mammoth mechanical
beanstalks of pods such as yours, stretching as far as you can
see up, down, and all around you. It is that indrawn breath that
makes you look down, for the breath didn't feel as normal as it
had in the Matrix... and it is that indrawn breath that then
causes your lungs to have their first real workout, as you issue
a scream in a startlingly contralto voice.
For what you see are breasts, as well as the rest of a female
body. And yet you don't have too much time to deal with that, as
a huge mechanical beast drops down beside you, grasps your head,
and brutally unscrews a cord from a socket you never knew
existed. The fluids promptly begin to drain from your pod,
drawing you with it, flushing you quickly down a chute into a
vast reservoir of water. The shock nearly knocks you unconscious,
and it is only when a giant clamp gently grabs you and begins
drawing you up into a bright light, that consciousness finally
leaves you.
=-=-=
A slight fade into consciousness. In the peripheries, bouncing
around your head without even being comprehended, you hear a
conversation.
"This can't be him."
"Come on, Morph, this is him. I double-checked the tracing
signal's carrier route five times."
"Check it again."
"It's him, Morpheus."
"It's obviously not a *him*."
A new voice interjects herself into the conversation. "What both
of you seem to be forgetting is that she's a person. Let's stop
arguing, fix her up, and *then* we can worry about what the hell
happened."
Darkness claiming you once again.
=-=-=
A brief surge back into the light.
You hear the words "...regaining consciousness" being spoken by
someone as you glance down and see hundreds of needles inserted
all over... a female body.
A dark-skinned man gazing down at you. "Stay calm," he says, and
ventures a reassuring smile.
"Why can't I..." A brief surge of panic at the voice you hear
speaking your words.
"Her heart rate's up way too high," another voice says, low but
urgent.
A stronger surge of panic envelops you at the word "her"...
"I'm channeling in some sedation."
Darkness, blessed darkness, once more.
=-=-=
And consciousness once more. This time, permanent, not shaky, and
there is a person there. She is a study in contrast: elegant
patrician features in scrounged, 'peasant' garb. She grabs your
arm as you begin to look down, and whips a mirror out from
beneath her, holding it to you.
You see a woman's face. You see soft lips, and a short, pageboy
haircut. You see eyes. You see a face startlingly like the one
you remember, but twisted just slightly through the looking glass
so that it is woman, not man.
You look down. You are wearing the same clothes as this 'elegant
peasant'... and you pull the neck of your shirt out, hesitantly,
and look down to see two fair-sized breasts jutting from a more
delicate construction of ribcage, torso, and shoulders. You look
up in panic, and feel this woman's hand reassuringly rubbing your
shoulder.
"Take a deep breath."
"What..." you say, short of breath in your panic.
"Breathe."
A deep breath brings a bit more calm.
"My name's Trinity." She smiles at you. "As for what... we don't
know. Are you Tony Marshall?"
"Yes!" you say. You don't seem capable of reacting at all
rationally. Given the circumstances, though, you're not exactly
blaming yourself for that.
Her eyes seem to go away from you, as if they were analyzing this
little tidbit for a moment. Then they come back. "Tony, we don't
know for certain why you're like this."
You look at her. "Did you guys do this to me?"
"Oh, Gods, no," she says, drawing back, slightly. "Tony, I'll
tell you what we think happened. We think you were always this
way, and they just plugged you into the Matrix as a guy."
"Are you kidding me?" you say, trying not to think about how
different... how *female*... your voice sounds.
"Tony," she says, "We know about your stories."
"How... how did you know?" you barely spit out, your mouth
suddenly bone-dry.
"Once you can read the Matrix, you can pretty much learn nearly
anything you need to know about any little corner of that
reality. And we were studying you pretty closely. We just didn't
know anything about your real body... we thought you being on
those lists meant you were transgendered." She gave a sharp
chuckle. "I guess you really were 'born into the wrong body'."
You put your hands down onto much slimmer thighs, and try not to
think about that. "But I was heterosexual, Trinity. I mean, I had
nothing against those who *were* transgendered, but... I never
wanted sexual reassignment."
She shrugs. "Maybe all that the inconsistency manifested was a
simple curiosity about the opposite sex. Or maybe you're a
lesbian, and that translated into heterosexuality when the
machines plunked you down into a male avatar. You'll have to see
as you go along."
"An avatar?"
"Your residual body image. What your character was in the Matrix.
Who, up until today, you thought you really were."
You shake your head. "This... is a lot to take in."
=-=-=
Trinity leaves you be for a while. Although you probably weren't
meant to overhear, you hear her say to Morpheus, "I think she'll
be okay. She seems to be accepting the basic reality of what
happened to her."
And, indeed, this does feel more real. You never thought your
world was unreal... you never really had anything to compare it
to. But now that you exist in this manner, you can tell this
reality is 'senior' to your other existence. Smells are deeper,
sounds are sharper, colors are brighter, less dull. It simply
feels... more real to you.
If it were not for this one, glaring oddity, this feeling of a
senior reality would be a paradise, despite the rough
surroundings of the Nebuchadnezzar.
And, tentatively, you decide to explore that oddity...
...and, almost shyly, you take your shirt off.
Your black hair is still with you, but it is a bit thicker, and
curves downward slightly around your neck in a modified pageboy
style. Your face is still, intrinsically, the one you grew up
with, but there are slight touches and tweaks that are different,
such as your eyelashes being longer, or your nose being more
tapered, or your lips being fuller, or your cheekbones being a
tad higher and more finely drawn. Beneath your face, however,
your body seems almost completely different. Your neck is...
well, had you been trying to woo the woman in front of you,
instead of actually *being* her, you might have deigned it swan-
like and not been too full of malarkey. That neck glides down
into a small set of shoulders that leads not only to thin, less-
developed arms, but also to a ribcage that tapers down into a
very narrow waist. And, atop that ribcage, two breasts rest,
spherical and firm.
You very gently touch one of those breasts, and as a finger
brushes a nipple, you feel a small shudder pass through you. That
leads you to promptly put your shirt back on, with the fabric now
feeling a bit scratchy against your chest.
Very quietly, you slide down the underwear and sweats that you
were dressed in... and you see hips much wider than you ever had
before, framing a sparse thatch of pubic hair that does not
contain the one thing you've carried around with you your entire
life. The sight makes you shudder, almost ignoring the thinner
thighs that frame that and taper down to two delicate feet
enshrouded in the sweatpants and underwear you had let fall.
Quickly, you pull those up.
=-=-=
You are a woman. In fact, you have always been a woman, and the
reality of you being a man has only been an illusion generated by
a vast race of brutal, sentient, hostile computers.
And so, you realize, you have a choice.
You can let this unsettle you, and you can let this drive you
mad, and you can seek to return to the oily teat of the Matrix's
spoon-fed reality... or you can embrace what truly is real, as
much as it disturbs you now, and this ragtag bunch of people who
fight for things you've always believed in.
=-=-=
And you go out to meet the rest of the crew.
You venture a very small smile, and you say, "Hi. My name is
Toni."
Mara
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