Viral Changes: Hell Cometh free porn video

Legends of the Sky Hurricane Viral Changes Part 2: Hell Cometh "A Soviet pessimist is someone who thinks things can't get any worse than they already are. A Soviet optimist believes that, yes, they can." March 2008 Los Angeles, CA Lights hurt her eyes. A lot of things hurt nowadays. Wires were strapped to her chest, arms, legs and genitals. Her joints hurt from being beaten by two-by-fours. She sat in her own filth; being strapped to a chair for weeks was torture in itself. The soda mixed with jalape?o juice up her nose was a new one to her. She would have to remember that one if she got out of here alive. The event almost three months ago had stirred up the CIA and FBI like nothing had done before. Zeppelins from alternate Realities coming and raiding a small biotech firm and shooting at the local populace weren't an everyday occurrence. The local news media had been censored the instant pictures were put on the air from the helicopter that had been shot down. Local police were under orders not to talk about what they had found. Beth was glad that she had been able to get out most of the girls from the ranch. Many of them didn't even legally exist, being former men that had changed their names to suit their new appearances. She had gotten out Claire, one of her two T-girl wives, but had had to have one of her sergeants bodily carry her out. A SWAT team that was sure the situation was still hostile had picked her up. She'd almost been able to get out of the Temecula police station, but one of the CIA spooks that had showed up recognized her for who she was. "Ben, or should I say Beth?" a man's voice carried over the room. He was probably only about five feet away, but he sounded like he was in her mind. He was different than the last one; the voice was younger. They did this at odd intervals. The last one had been a day of so ago. She still wasn't sure what day it was, but she was reasonably sure it had been at least two months. "Beth," she coughed. "Ben is dead." He coughed and sniffed. "You were a good agent years ago, Beth. I don't know why you let them do this to you, but I'm reasonably sure you know much more than you let on," he said in a calm voice. They all started out like this. Then they would end up screaming at her when she told them that the plague ravaging the planet was started by Germans from an alternate Reality bent on revenge for the deaths of fifty billion people. There was no cure for it and they had taken all the research. He would either die or become like her, a T-girl. "Sick?" she asked. "Yes. Like everyone else," he said. After a pause he said quietly, "My parents died last week from this." He sounded like he was ready to cry now. The wild mood swings that accompanied the plague had resulted in some of her worst beatings. She healed quickly, being one of the early recipients of the virus. Everyone that survived would have that trait now. "I'm sorry," she said, knowing it sounded hollow. Her parents and some of her siblings that were not too healthy probably had been taken by it too. She worried about her friend Mel. He was either dead or undergoing transformation. The man walked up to her. He was in his early thirties with a long lanky face, brown hair, sad, deep-set eyes and thin lips. He wore a blue suit that had probably never been pressed. She winced in reflex as he reached for her. His fingers gripped the electrodes taped to her breasts and he gently took them off. He worked slowly, being careful to not hurt her. Beth looked at him in mild surprise. Were they trying the kind approach now? "Are you letting me go?" she asked. He ignored her and finished taking off the electrodes, pausing for a heartbeat when he saw her penis and testes. He didn't free her arms and legs from the chair, however. "You're a mess, Beth," he said standing back and looking at her. "Yeah," she laughed. "Could you arrange a hot bath and some clothes?" She knew he would probably hit her for it, but pissing the current spook off was the only pleasure she had had in the last two months. "Yes, I actually can," he said. Beth blinked. Being cleaned by something other than a hose had been as remote as heaven to her. "I still won't tell you where the remaining heads of the Society are." "I know," he said, looking at her strangely. I hope he doesn't try to rape me, she thought. She'd probably enjoy it at the moment. Crazing being sodomized was a side effect of the physical changes in her anus that the virus did. She hated Anne for a second for putting that in. He walked beyond the light and switched on the main lights of the room. It was stark white with a tile floor and a floor drain under her chair. The door was a good twenty feet away she was actually near the back of the room. There was a table with a laptop on it and a couple of chairs pulled up against it. He took the laptop and one of the chairs and sat directly across from her. "The CDC says that this thing is highly infectious. All of the normal drugs we use seem to be disassembled by it. The only thing we can do is use antibiotics to keep any secondary infections at bay," he said, looking in her eyes. Beth looked away. She didn't want to see the sadness there. He took her jaw in his hand and lifted her face to his. "Look at me," he said. She did furtively. "This thing kills people with genetic defects. It kills children." She knew. The Colonel from the Storm League that had killed her mistress had told her as much. "The rest of the world is blaming us," he said. "Wars are breaking out, you know. India and Pakistan nuked each other yesterday. Both New Delhi and Islamabad are gone. Three hundred million people are dead. South of the border and Asia are in shambles." Tears started rolling down her cheeks. "I can't stop it. I've told you everything I know. The people who escaped don't have the notes you need to cure it. Anne's dead, that crazy woman killed her," she said, crying softly. "Anne Bonne?" he asked. She nodded. They asked her over and over about Anne. She had found out Lady Anne was actually Anna Bostoyevsky, a Russian scientist who was famous for Cold War viral weapons. The woman had been secretly been researching RNA viruses that extended life and others that could transform men into women. It was her life's work. The Soviets had considered her a colossal pervert. She had only completed her research when she had met Mistress Donna. Donna had made millions through savvy stock sales in the eighties and nineties and had a sense of social justice for women. She had thought it was great fun to turn men into T-girls and make them submissive. Meeting Anne had fed her appetites, but it also tempered them when she saw that people sometimes went insane from the process. "She would be a great help now," he said, looking very worn. "The Storm League, Navigators, Kondarrians, The Prime Reality, and cat haired women." He ticked off each thing with his fingers. "You barely know anything about any of them, but that's more than we do. "The Storm League apparently is an interdimensional United Nations. The document we retrieved states that. A navigator isn't a thing but a person and that thing called you one," he said. She flinched. She didn't know what it meant either. "Kondarrians are the bear men that attacked your building. We have one of the corpses, you know, and they aren't human in the least." "The Prime Reality is comprised of three nations, The National Socialist Workers' Corporation, Imperial Japan, and the Republic of Texas," she said quietly. The map device had been recovered and apparently translated by the feds. "The cat haired women are from the Reality of Mechanon, wherever that is. You know more than I do about the geography of these places." "You were very bad little girls to be messing with bio-agents. You could be tried under the Homeland Security Act as terrorists," he said. "I'm sure the Chinese and the Indians would love to get hold of your organization." He flipped the laptop around and let her look at the screen. The headline from the South China Morning Post read: "Millions Dead! Nuclear Weapons Used." The sub text read that China was considering using their arsenal to stop India and Pakistan from doing it again. Another article showed a picture of a village filled with dead, emaciated bodies. "Plague causes worldwide famine." The article stated that infected people ate much more than normal and as a result the food supply in third world nations was depleted quickly. Beth cried more and let her head hang. "Oh God, let it stop." Tears dripped on her naked thighs and ran down her legs. "We had no idea they existed. This was supposed to be a benefit to the few people who needed it, it wasn't intended for this." She felt a hand on her shoulder. "I know," he said softly. "You've said that over and over. I watched the tapes." He got up and walked to the table and brought back an ancient leather box. He opened it up and pulled out a very old book. "We found this in Anna's room yesterday, Beth. It was hidden very carefully in a secret safe. Have you ever seen it?" She shook her head it was unfamiliar. The red leather book looked centuries old, the yellowed velum pages were written in Russian. She didn't know Russian, just German, French and some Hebrew. Anne had never shown her the book. "I can't read it. No one can, not in time anyway. It's very old," he said and put it in her right hand. She looked at in curiosity and wondered where it was from. Images of a very small house, green fields and animals flooded her. She knew this place. The knowing of it was painfully clear; it was a razor in her mind. It was sharper than when she had wanted to know where mistress was that day, so long ago. Beth gasped and dropped the book. "See something?" he asked. She looked away from him, this wasn't right. "We did a little research on Navigators." the way he said the word made it a title, not a job. "Do you know what we found?" She shook her head, afraid of the answer. He sat in the chair across from her again. "We found the German word you used. It has a special meaning. It means 'one who finds.' Did you know that?" "No," she said. "Why did she have this book?" he asked. Beth shook her head. "I don't know. She was very secretive about her past. We only knew she was a doctor in a Soviet era hospital. I didn't pry because Mistress said not to." "You know where the book is from, don't you?" he said. "Yes," she answered. "Where is it?" he asked She looked at him so he could see her eyes and tell she wasn't lying. "I know, but I can't tell you." "Can't? Or won't?" he asked. "I can't. I could lead you there, but I couldn't tell you where it is," she said. "Its over that way somewhere. It's already fading from me," she said, twisting her head to her left and slightly down. He nodded. "This book is connected to this plague somehow. It is very important. You will lead me there, won't you?" he asked. Beth considered her options. They weren't too good. She could stay here and probably die or she could go with this man and send him on a wild goose chase. The second route could lead to her death too, but it gave her more time to think of a way to escape and get back to the Society. "I'll help you," she said. He pulled out a multi-tool from a pocket on his coat. The speed that he flipped it open told Beth that he used it often. He cut the tape that was holding her wrists to the chair and gently pulled it off of her skin. She looked in his eyes and saw worry there. "This isn't official is it?" she asked. "No," he answered. "The official orders are to ship you to the CDC for vivisection." She swallowed. Beth briefly had a vision of Doctor Mengele, the Angel of Death from Auschwitz. "Did they catch any of my girls and do that to them?" "A few," he said blankly. He cut her ankles free. "If you'd rather not join them we should leave soon." "What about other people on this floor? Won't they see me?" she asked. The man walked to the door and opened it wide. The corridor was empty and she didn't hear anything except the whispering of the air conditioner. "They're all home. Some permanently." He helped her up, grabbing a towel off of the table to wipe feces off of her ass and legs. "I'll get you showered up quickly and we'll start." She walked shakily, holding onto him for support. He was warm and near and being very kind at the moment. Her penis began to rise. She willed it down. Not now girl, she thought, gritting her teeth. The corridors were completely deserted. He walked her past the cell where she had stayed to a shower room. He pointed her to a stall with no door. "Here," he said. "Get the worst off of you. We need to move quickly. The team should be here to get you in thirty minutes." Beth stumbled into the shower and turned on the hot water. Such luxury! She washed quickly, letting the heat of the shower take the worst of the pain away. She poured shampoo into her hair and rinsed it quickly. They hadn't let her cut it and it had grown like crazy, reaching her butt now. It was probably so tangled that she would have to cut off most of it anyhow. The water playing on her breasts brought back memories of happier times and she fought hard not to get an erection in front of the man who was saving her. He was disobeying orders. The Company would have him shot for this she was sure. "Why are you helping me?" she asked, walking out of the shower. He handed her a towel. "The CDC people will just cut you up and we'll be no closer to a cure. This way we might be able to find some notes she had written back in the Soviet era," he said. "It isn't just me. My division really isn't happy with how the crisis is being handled." "How is it being handled?" she asked, finishing drying her body off. The hair would take several hours to dry. Knowing the reputation President Ellerman it was probably something along the lines of martial law and concentration camps for the victims. Who said all liberals were cuddly. Mao and Stalin were liberals, just look at the messes they had made. "You'll see outside," he said cryptically. A pair of faded denim jeans and a white blouse was handed to her. They were a little large for her, but she put them on, happy to not be naked for once. A brush was handed to her as well. "Use this once we get into the car." He herded her down the corridor. The white walls were silent. The building was deserted. The cube farms had no one in them. "Just how many people are sick?" she asked. "All of them," he answered matter-of-factly. "Oh," she said. The elevator ride was surreal; an old Britney Spears song turned to Muzak played in the background. The carport had only five vehicles in it. "The others belong to the guards," he explained. They got into his car, an old brown ford Escort. He opened the door for her and waited for her to get in before he shut it. Beth smiled at him instinctively. The man's face didn't budge from its expressionless state. She looked at her feet and put her seatbelt on. He got in and started the car. The radio stayed off. The streets outside of the federal building had light traffic and looked fairly normal. The smell hit her a few minutes later; it was the smell of rotting meat. She looked around but couldn't see anything. "Its UCLA," he said to her unasked question. "Its been turned into a temporary dumping ground for the dead." He turned onto the 405 south. "You should see Hollywood. This bug doesn't like competition, killed anyone with HIV. They crap out all their blood. Its real messy." She turned away from the morbidity of the man and looked at the freeway ahead of her. It was nearly deserted, but she did see normal people going about their business. She didn't see any elderly people at all. She looked at the agent who saved her from vivisection. He didn't look a bad sort, really. A cell phone buzzed in his pocket. "Yeah, target acquired. We'll meet up at the place. Godspeed," he said, shutting it off. Beth knew to not ask where they were going. Standard procedure, really. The airport was deserted and no planes were taking off or landing. That wasn't a good sign. "Why aren't the planes flying?" she asked. "A week ago some religious nuts shot down a seven-sixty-seven with a missile," he answered. "Islamic?" she asked quietly. "Baptists from Tennessee," he said. "They think its time to see Jesus." Beth looked away. She decided to focus on the mundane to give her a point of reference. She began to comb out her hair and found it was pretty tangled. They steadily headed east, taking the roads into the deep desert. They stopped for gas at odd places; the stations were closed once you left Riverside. A man was selling gasoline out of the back of a tanker truck in Needles for twenty dollars a gallon. He paid the price. She finally got all of the tangles out of her hair seven hours into the trip. They had hardly said anything since leaving Los Angeles except for when they had stopped for lunch at a small drive through burger joint. She tossed her hair and smiled contentedly. She had been balding when she was Ben. This was much, much better. She looked into the mirror on the window shade her face hardly showed the bruises from the beating that she had received a few days ago. She just needed some makeup and she'd look good again. She felt his eyes on her and she looked at him and flashed a smile. He blushed and looked at the road. Oh, he does have a dick, she thought to herself. He hadn't been sniffling as much as when they were in the city. "When did you catch the cold?" Beth asked. "February," he said. "I've gotten over most of it." She looked at him in concern. "You're not getting any weird tingles in your face?" "It hurts like hell," he said. "My skin feels like someone is peeling it off me." Beth blanched. This was the virus, but it was more serious than when she'd had it. "Have you lost a lot of weight?" she asked. "Yeah," he said. "Everyone has. Your metabolism goes through the roof." She nodded in acknowledgement. He must be feeling the other changes in his ass too, but she felt it best not to mention that. Her penis got hard at the slightest prospect of sex, though and she had to think of the smell coming from the abattoir of UCLA to calm it down. "Beth," he said. "What's it like being like you?" She blinked at the question. She hadn't expected that. "Um... Well... I'm just like I was, but I think about things differently. I don't think of myself as a man anymore. I don't think like one in certain areas. I still like sports," she laughed. "Clothing feels different. My skin is sensitive, so I don't like rough clothing. I appreciate smells more. I enjoy looking good and having people admire my body. My hair grows faster and I don't have to shave my face or legs. I'm horny a lot." He nodded. "Ever tried to have your breasts removed?" he asked. "Why would I want to do that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I like having them. They feel nice when someone touches them." "Just asking," he said and went silent. They didn't speak for the next five hundred miles. The desert was completely black in the night. The stars shone brightly and she saw no airplanes in the air. There were a few broken down cars along the side of the road, but hey were deserted. The Agent stopped and checked them. They siphoned out any gas they found in the tanks. No one was manning the checkpoint when they crossed into Arizona. They turned off the main highway and headed north. "We're," he squeaked, his voice cracking. He coughed. "We're almost to the safe house," he said in a deeper voice. She giggled and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Its normal," she said. "You have a rash on your neck. You might want to switch to silk or polyester until your skin gets better." He scratched his neck. "Uh, thanks. I think," he said. "Are you taping down your breasts?" she asked. He turned beet red. "I don't have breasts!" he yelled at her in a fury that made her move away from him. "I...I...I'm sorry," she stammered. "It's just that I developed mine just after my cold broke." "I don't have tits. I never will," he said coldly. Beth looked away and retreated into herself. He'll probably kill himself, she thought. Some of the early transformees did that. They couldn't handle the psychological stress of having this done to them with no recourse. Mistress began selecting the transformees after Jessica almost managed to kill her that time. The road became bumpy and she focussed on that. Yucca trees and cacti popped up occasionally along with a coyote now and then. A house came into view just as dawn was breaking. It was an old place, built by a homesteader back in the fifties. The barn had a plane in it, covered by camouflage tarps. There were five cars under similar tarps set up like garages near the house. They all looked fairly beat up and nondescript. The perfect cars for spying. There were three small mounds behind the house, each sported a crude cross. They looked fresh. They pulled up under a tarp and he got out of the car. Two people were already coming out of the house with guns drawn. The man with Beth put his hands up and she did the same. "Bill!" a thin black man with watery eyes wearing a blue button down shirt and black slacks yelled. He looked like he had lost a lot of weight recently; a hundred pounds at least. "Jeff," he said in acknowledgement, lowering his arms. "Is this our Navigator?" a woman in jeans and cut off T-shirt with medium length black hair in a ponytail, small breasts and a pinched face asked. "Yes, Gretta, this is her," he said. "I thought it was a him. It's got a dick right?" she said, putting her shotgun over her shoulder. "I'm as much of a woman as you are," Beth said. "If you can't have a baby, you're not a woman," she said and motioned for her to go into the house. "Who died?" Bill asked, pointing to the graves. "Denny, Lain, and Mark," he replied. "This thing is messy." Bill nodded and hunkered down. Beth touched his arm to try to comfort him, but he shrugged her off. The ramshackle house was sparsely furnished. A few chairs that were in fashion fifty years ago, a table that had been repaired many times and currently had a board for one of the legs and a couch that looked the definition of Lime green fluffiness sat on a cracked linoleum floor. A single lamp with a yellowed shade lighted the far reaches of the room. Beth stood quietly waiting for someone to tell her where to sit. "It looks just like a girl," Gretta said, brushing her. Beth gave her a hateful look. "Acts just like one, too." She laughed. "Gretta, knock it off," Bill said, giving her a look. "I know you lost your husband to this damn thing, but you don't have to take it out on her." Gretta, looking suitably chastised, sat down on the couch in a grump. "He's still a man. Just has tits," she grumbled. "Speaking of tits, why're yours small? I seem to remember them being bigger last time I..." "Shut the FUCK UP!" Gretta yelled and walked into one of the back rooms, slamming the door behind her. They could hear crying coming from the room. Beth winced at the sound. Going with Bill wasn't turning out to be such a good idea after all. "Um..." she said. "Don't worry about it," Jeff said. "Her implants reacted badly to the disease and she had to get them taken out. She's been on edge for a while, losing her husband and what she views as her womanhood in less than two months really hit her hard, Agent Lovitch." Beth blinked. Did she know this person? She looked at him closer. Jeff...Jeff... Jefferson Brown an agent she'd had assigned to her back in France in the eighties. He'd always been a chunky one, but the virus had done a number on him. "I'm sorry, Jefferson. I can understand her feelings, but I didn't know it affected women too." She walked over to him and hugged him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "It's good to see you, Jefferson," she said. "You look very different, Ben," he said looking her over with wonder and a mild lust. "Its Beth, Jefferson. I'm Beth now," she said. "I almost didn't recognize you either. Your hair's grown back, you've lost a lot of weight and your face looks a little softer." She sat on the couch, crossing her legs instinctively. A wave of fatigue hit her suddenly. The day on the run and previous two months of torture felt overwhelming. "You ok?" Jefferson asked. "I just need some sleep," Beth said. "It's been a while." He nodded. "You can take a bath in the back," he said. "Use the third bedroom. Lain's stuff is in there. She was about your size." Beth got up shakily and went to the bathroom. Half an hour later, she went to the indicated bedroom. It was clean and Spartan, very little remained of the previous occupant. A gun cleaning kit was on the small dresser next to the full size bed. Beth looked in the old armoire that was there instead of a closet. Clothes hung there in order. Lain's tastes ran towards slacks and blouses. Beth decided to worry about it when she woke up and went to sleep. "Jeff, can she be trusted?" Bill asked his fellow agent sitting at the table. "Yeah, just keep him...er...her away from alcohol. Ben was a good agent back in France when we were up against those Algerians back in the eighties," he said. "His wife left him in ninety one and he slipped into a bottle." "Wife?" Bill asked. "Isn't he a fag?" "Fag? Old Ben?" Jefferson laughed. "He'd fuck any woman that bent down near him back then. Part of why his wife left him. This virus that those bitches developed changes your head a bit." He leaned back in his chair, putting his feet on another chair. "Yeah," Bill said. "I'm getting angry or sad for no reason all the time." He stretched out on the couch. "I'm in pain all the damn time too. It's a wonder I didn't kill her a few times." "She that bad?" Jefferson said turning his head back to the bedroom where Beth was sleeping. "No. I just get all hyper and I want to blame someone for what's happening," he sighed. "I know she isn't directly responsible for this, but I want to kill something. Its tiring to hold it all in." "Yeah, but that's why they picked us to do this. We're the least emotional agents the Company has," Jefferson said. "Gretta's is having problems with it." "I noticed," Bill said. "Did the others go that way?" Jefferson shook his head. "Heart failure for Lain and Mark. Denny shot himself when he found out that his wife died." "Damn. I'm sorry, Jeff," Bill said holding back the tears. He pinched his eyes and looked away. "Damn! Stupid mood swings." "Its ok. We all get them," Jefferson said. "Get some sleep. I'll make sure that she doesn't run." He paused. "Is she really a Navigator? Can she find the old lab for us?" "I'm pretty sure of it," Bill said. He turned on his side and turned away from Jefferson. "Let me get some sleep, Jeff." * * * Beth floated in a green ocean of warmth. She was happy for some reason. Images of Claire and Jessica in different locations floated past her, but they skittered away from her when she reached for them. She tried to will them back to her and grasped at a string that was there, but not there. The image of Jessica flashed into her mind preternaturally sharp. She was organizing a construction site of Chinese and black workers. The pain hit her instantly and she woke up with a start. She was lying on top of the lumpy bed. Lingering green light left the room as she looked around, it retreated into the corners of the room and under the door like it was made of mice. "Damn, this is getting weird," she said. Hell everything was weird nowadays. She got up and dressed in Lain's clothes. The dead agent was a little thinner than Beth and her bras didn't fit. She'd have to do without, but would bring it up to the Agents she was with currently. Maybe not Gretta, she seemed resentful of her presence and would go off on one of her, "You're not a woman" rants. Well she'd have to get used to it. All the men are going to be like me soon, she thought. It was sad actually. Beth had slept with men before and she didn't resent them. Unfortunately, the majority of them were gay and they really didn't treat her like a woman, just a man with tits. They ignored her upper half. The others usually treated her like a woman, but neglected the fact that she needed her penis serviced too. Her own preferences ran towards women as well, but she found that they saw her as competition and dildos really didn't fit the bill when she needed fucking. Jessica and Claire were perfect for her at the moment. She knew Keanna had found love with her wife, but that was a domination thing. Beth suspected that Keanna's wife only loved her because she could dominate her. She found a small bag of makeup and spent some time applying the shades and tones to her face. Her penis rose a few times during the process, much to her consternation. It was just so long since she'd felt like a proper girl. Beth styled her hair in a long, thick braid that she let hang over her shoulder and tied with a strip of leather she found in a drawer. When she exited the room she found the three agents in conversation. "We can go through New Orleans, There's a freighter going to the Ukraine that leaves in two weeks," Gretta said. "Trustworthy crew?" Bill asked. "Pretty good. They ran the smuggling operations for the nukes a few years back. Really stable psychologically," Jefferson said. He looked up and smiled at Beth. "Welcome back, sleeping beauty," he laughed at his own joke. Gretta looked her way and instantly looked jealous. "God, it put on makeup," she said nastily. Beth let it slide off her. "You're sure we need to go to the Ukraine?" she asked Jefferson pointedly. She noticed that all three of them had another inch of hair growth. Jefferson's was the most pronounced; he was starting to get a small Afro. Gretta look slighted and looked away from Beth to the maps she was pouring over. "It's the best way into the Confederated Independent States at the moment. If we go through Europe we'll have to deal with being quarantined. They've stopped all international trade," Jefferson said. Beth sat on the couch. Gretta put her feet on the free chair when she went to sit on it. "Suspended international trade?" she asked in disbelief. "But, the economy..." "Dead as a duck," Bill said. His voice was softer today; he was starting to change. "Things are getting scarce, but we should be able to trade for some of it. He threw her a brown plastic package. It was an eighties vintage Meal Ready to Eat. She tore it open and started to arrange the contents. Ham and chicken loaf, peanut butter, some corn, chocolate and a condiment pack. "Stove doesn't work," he said in explanation. "Will they let us dock?" she asked. Gretta sniffed. "They don't have to. We're going to bring a few Zodiacs to land," she said. "Who's our language expert?" Beth asked in return. "Me, unfortunately," Gretta said. "I can speak Russian and some Ukrainian, but our true expert, Mark, is dead." "Oh," Beth answered quietly. "I'm sorry." "Gonna cry, little fag?" Gretta asked snottily. Beth colored. She's under the influence of the virus, she thought to herself and calmed herself down. She would have to nail Gretta in the future just to get the point across. "Bill? Who's coming with me to find this lab?" "All of us," he said. "Gretta, knock it off." "Right," she said. "Getting sweet on him?" Bill looked at the raven-haired woman. "Gretta, what exactly do you think is going to happen to all of us?" he asked waving his arm at all of them. She looked confused. "What do you mean?" she said. "We survived the virus, but it isn't out of our systems," he said. "That," he pointed at Beth, "used to be a fifty-six year old man. 'She' is now a thirty-five year old T-girl." He emphasized the word 'she.' "Every male that survives this damn thing will be just like her if they don't kill themselves first." Gretta looked away from Bill. "If the lab boys are right we'll all under go some changes, even women. So stop calling her a faggot. Got it!" "Yes sir," Gretta said, venom creeping into her voice. Beth looked down at her feet and sighed. She didn't need saving by Bill, but he was right about the changes. He'd soon look like a woman just like she did. She didn't know what would happen if a woman was infected. Donna and Anne had never told her what would happen if the virus were given to a genetic female. Gretta's pinched face was smoother than last night, now that she looked at it. Beth grabbed Gretta's hand and looked at it. A pistol whipped around in her free hand and pressed it against Beth's skull. "What the fuck are you doing?" Gretta hissed. Beth dropped Gretta's hand. "There's no hair. Its completely hairless." "Of course there's no hair," Gretta said. "I'm a real woman." "Every human has small hairs on their skin. They're just very light in women," Bill said. "You should have some hair on your hand." He reached towards Gretta's hand holding the pistol. She gave it up reluctantly and he looked at her hand. Beth straightened up, backing away from the woman. "Completely hairless," he pronounced. "Just like mine." He showed his own hand. It too had no body hair on it. "All my body hair fell out last night," he said. "When did it happen to you, Gretta?" "Last week," she said in shock. "I just thought it was the stress." "All of it?" Jefferson asked quietly. "Yes," she replied. Her eyes began to water. "Any other changes?" Bill asked. She looked away from the men and rubbed her eyes. "I..." she began. "It's alright," Jefferson encouraged. "We need to know what's happening in order to help you." "My butt feels weird and my tits are growing again," Gretta said after a minute. "I'm also getting these weird aggression fits. I just look at...her... and I feel funny like I have to tell her what to do." "You're going to have to get over that," Beth said. "I work on a team basis... and you're not my dom. She died." Gretta sighed. "I don't know if I'm up to this, Jeff." He patted her arm. "You'll do fine. Its Bill and I that I'm worried about," he said. "Face it," he sighed. "I'm going to be a chick in less than two months unless I die. Which is a distinct possibility considering where we're going. I just hope we can find something that leads us in the direction of a cure when we get there." Beth saw an opening to change the subject. "Where's the book?" she asked, hopefully. She widened her eyes and smiled at Bill, who blushed. "Here," Bill fished it out of a small bag and handed it to her. She held it gingerly. No images came to her and the pain that accompanied the first time she handled it didn't spring forth. She looked at the red leather of its cover and turned it over and over in her hands. The yellowed pages made her think of museums and old libraries. She tried to see where this book had been, where Anne might have had a lab in Russia. A lesser pain shot through her and she pulled on that pain as if it were a path to where she wanted to go. An empty building shot into her mind. One that had old notes and books on shelves that looked years old. Beth stood and began to turn in place until her right hand pointed to where the location was. Then the pain became too great and she dropped the book and held her head. Bill and Gretta helped her back to the couch. "What did you see," Gretta asked. "An old white building. Paint peeling. Wooden doors painted blue and rusting locks. There's a small room full of books and notebooks on shelves," she said, leaning back on the couch. "Well, she is useful after all," Gretta said. "Right. We leave tonight," Bill said. "I'll put all the gas from the cars we're not taking into jerry cans. You plot our route to New Orleans and pack the junk," he said to the other three. *** The trip took longer than she would've thought. Almost a week passed driving from Arizona to Louisiana. Police demanding tolls to pass through their counties stopped them. Gas was hard to find, as was food. Scavenging helped a bit. Beth finally got a bra that fit her. Having her breasts free was driving the other three to distraction anyway. She started to see some changes in all of the three agents. Gretta became less angry in her presence, especially when she agreed with her. She even thought she saw Gretta checking her out once or twice, but couldn't be sure. Bill's face lost its hard edge and his wrinkles smoothed out. He was starting to look like he was about twenty or so. His facial hair never grew back at all. All three's hair began to get longer and their voices cracked a lot. Their skin smoothed out, getting a glow about it that reminded her of herself when she had sex. Gretta had grown b cups and was fighting with Bill and Jefferson over the fatty food packs. In contrast the two men had started eating more vegetables, but they still craved foods high in fat. Beth hadn't had to worry about her diet when she had transformed. Donna had certain things laid out by the kitchen for Beth. She did remember that she had started to eat more balanced meals when it happened, but she didn't notice it at the time. They avoided the larger cities when they saw Phoenix burning and a line of violent refugees leaving the city. They carried banners proclaiming the end of the world and shot at anyone near them that didn't join their cause. The absence of older and overly male faces was a weird thing that reminded Beth of the Ranch. The skies of Texas were black and a steady rain of ash rained down from the burning oil wells. Occasional rainstorms helped the skies, but left the highways littered with crashed vehicles. Some people shot at them from other cars and they returned fire, more accurately than their attackers. They found an abandoned farmhouse outside of Shreveport where they stayed one night. Beth was half-asleep on the couch in the front room. Gretta and Bill were in the back room and Jefferson was in the kitchen making coffee. She pulled the blanket she'd found a bit tighter to herself at a rushing of wind from outside. The world was not a friendly place anymore. She was grateful that the previous owners of the farmhouse had a very cozy sense of decoration. It reminded her of happier times. The huge bible and crosses everywhere were distracting, though. "Have a cup," Jefferson said coming out of the kitchen with an old coffee percolator and two cups. He was wearing a pair of woman's jeans and a buttoned up shirt. His ass had grown to proportions that didn't lend themselves to men's pants. The shoulder holster he wore with his Beretta in it showed that he was on guard. "No thanks, I'm trying to sleep," she said, smiling. He sat on a chair next to her. "Its cocoa," he said, showing her a blue cup. The warm happy scent of chocolate finally wafted to her. "Marshmallows too," she said, accepting the cup. She blew the steam from the mug and sipped. She smiled contentedly. "Oh, you know how to make a girl happy," Beth said contentedly. "I used to do this for Kathy," he said smiling sadly. "Used to? Oh Jefferson, I'm so sorry," she said, placing a hand on his leg. "It's alright, Beth," he said sighing. "The plague didn't do it. Breast cancer three years ago. It spread to her chest and her lungs." Beth rubbed his leg in sympathy. "I know what she meant to you, Jefferson," she said. She sipped her cocoa. "She taught you to make a good cup of cocoa." He smiled at her. Her hair almost stood on end. In that second he'd looked like a pretty twenty-five year old woman. Shaken she sipped her cocoa. He drank his coffee. They sat in silence for five minutes. "Beth..." "Jefferson..." They laughed together and then went silent. "Beth," a woman's voice said. She looked up at Jefferson. "Yeah, that's my voice. I've been trying to keep it quiet, been talking deep the last two days, but its getting harder to do." "Oh, Jefferson," she said. Tears welled up in her eyes. It was almost not real with him talking like he always had. She had thought they could find a cure and things could go on as they had. "What about the notes in the Ukraine?" He sighed in that strangely feminine voice. "It's for future generations. We're not going to figure it out in time for us," he said. "But when Bill rescued me he said they were vivisecting some of our girls," she said. "They were, or maybe they still are, but the virus your people have is different from the one that everyone else has," he said. She opened her mouth to ask something, but her looked into her eyes. "No, it doesn't do anything more to people like you except it supercedes the one in your body. They seem to recognize each other. "I noticed you had a mild cold a few days ago. It went away quickly and none of us caught it. That's the recognition process. Your um... balls... may have been in a little pain?" he asked self-consciously. She smiled at him. "Yes, Jefferson. I do have balls... and a penis," she said and he blushed. "You're cute when you do that." He blushed again. She sighed at the news. "I just thought that was a case of blue balls." He looked at her in surprise. The expression made him look like the twenty-five year old girl again. "Yes, I need sex too. Our sex-drive is pretty high. You'll be feeling certain things soon." "Like?" he prompted. She looked at him seriously. "Do you really want to know?" she asked. "I'd better, or it'll be a surprise I won't know how to deal with," he answered. She sipped her cocoa it was almost gone now. "Does your asshole feel weird?" she asked. Jefferson looked a little taken aback. "Yeah," he said. "I was noticing you were staying longer to go to the bathroom than you did at the beginning of the week," she said. He nodded. "Well, that's because your ass is restructuring itself into a sort of vagina." "What!?!" he yelped. "Shhhhhhh," she shushed him. "Lets not wake the others. I don't know if Bill and Gretta can take it." "Them too?" he asked. "Yes. Them too," she said. "It really isn't that weird. You develop a second sphincter about four to eight inches inside your asshole. It gets all stretchy in there and a fluid is secreted constantly. More when you're excited. It keeps it slick and sanitary in there. All of your excrement drops out and none is left behind." She smiled, "No more skid marks." "Uh huh," he looked somewhat scared. She touched him reassuringly on the arm and he smiled at her. "What else should I know about it?" "Remember when we stopped in Sulphur Springs?" Beth asked. "Yeah. What about it?" he replied. She blushed. "I bought some tampons for like fifty dollars, didn't I?" she prompted. "And?" he questioned. Beth raised an eyebrow. "'And?' just why did I buy a box of tampons?" "Well, because you get your... oh, you don't get those do you?" he said sheepishly. "No, not like a... real... woman does," she admitted. "You have to have... sex... back there... or the fluid sort of builds up in the tissues. It gets all bloated feeling like you have to go to the bathroom all of the time. It needs to be milked out - I use a tampon for that." He looked completely surprised. "You have to have sex? Up Your Ass?" he said eyes wide open. "Yes," she answered. He blinked. "What the hell with?" She blushed at him and he blanched. "No Way In Hell am I going to let a man stick his dick in my ass!" his voice rose in pitch till he sounded like a high school girl. She giggled. "You don't have to do that to get the fluid out," she said. "Its just more pleasant than a tampon." "No way!" he said again. "Keep it down, I'm not proposing that you let Bill fuck you. I'm just telling you the realities of your new body," she said. He calmed down a bit. "Does it hurt?" he asked. Beth giggled. "No, silly. It feels really nice. You tingle down there and feel all warm and filled up. I orgasm from it alone," she smiled at him. In protest of not having sex for three months her penis rose. She couldn't control it so she moved the blanket to cover it up. Jefferson let out all of his breath. "You really are a woman aren't you?" he said in his womanly voice. "Yes," she answered. "I just have a penis instead of a vagina." She smiled at his blush. He really was cute... Soon he was to be a she as well. "There are some other things you will need to know." "Like what? That was pretty big there," he said exasperated. "Well like how to care for your breasts," she said. He looked sick. "MY breasts?" he said. "You are so cute when you do that," Beth giggled at him. He blushed again. Beth smiled at him again. "You need to get them both straight in your bra or it looks weird. You should wear a sports bra under t-shirts if you're going to do any running or exercising or your nipples will chafe and that hurts. "If you're going to be exercising for a while without being able to shower, like if we're going to be running, you'll have to get a piece of soft cotton or tissue paper to put between them," Beth continued. "Why?" he asked. "They sweat, you'll get a rash or start developing zits between them if you don't," she stated. "Great. Do I have to worry about cancer too?" he grumbled. "A little," she said. "Anne told me that my breasts were slightly more resilient than a normal woman's because the virus self corrects errors in my DNA." She looked thoughtful. "If it is affecting women too, maybe breast cancer will be gone." "Too late for my wife," Jefferson said. Tears began to well up in his eyes. He looked like he was fighting the mood swing. Beth reached for him and he fell into her arms at her touch. "Its ok. Let it all out," she said as Jefferson sobbed in her arms. Beth kissed her former employee on top of his head and let him cry. The more Jefferson cried the more he sounded like a young woman. Beth was grateful for the outburst; it shifted the subject from sex. Jefferson lay against her breasts for half an hour, falling asleep afterwards. She enjoyed the warmth of another body against hers and hugged Jefferson to her. A maternal feeling flooded her and she glowed inside. The next morning Bill and Gretta came out of the same bedroom with sheepish looks on them, but they colored when they saw Jefferson sleeping in Beth's arms. She shushed them. "We're wearing out clothes. He just needed to talk about his wife," she said. Gretta nodded in acknowledgement and Bill just tried to look busy by making breakfast from the supplies in the kitchen. He left a wad of fifties on the kitchen table just in case the original inhabitants ever came back. Jefferson soon woke to the noise in the kitchen and looked up into Beth's face. "Morning sleepyhead," she said cheerily. He looked around groggily and separated himself from her. "I'm sorry about last night, Agent," Jefferson said, his now soprano voice sounding odd. Beth smiled. "No need to be," she said. "You needed it." She got up and kissed Jefferson on the cheek as she went to the bathroom. Sitting on the pot, Beth reflected on what had happened to Jefferson the night before. If Jefferson hadn't broke down and cried Beth probably would have seduced him...er...her. Damn, she hated it when people were in this half state before they became T- girls fully. Jefferson's face was softer than the night before. More rounded and the pouches under the eyes had smoothed out. The use of his new voice instead of trying to force the old one signaled a sense of acceptance. Beth took a shower with particular glee. She played with her breasts and cock until she had cum three times in a row. The tampon helped her ass, but nothing but this or sex would help her blue balls. Thinking of what Jefferson had said about the pain in her genitals being related to the virus she caught some of it in her hand and sniffed it. It smelled weird...like fruit. She licked it experimentally - Mistress Donna had made Beth eat enough of her own cum that she knew the taste instinctively. It should be salty and slightly sour, but it was sweet - sort of like salty pears. She looked at the stuff in her hand and shook her head. I've got to have something wrong with my nose and tongue, she thought. She dried off and got out one of the heavy flow tampons. Beth opened her legs slightly and pressed the applicator into her anus sighing with relief at the pleasure it generated. She pushed on the plunger and felt the tampon go in; she wouldn't need to be fucked today. Beth then combed out her hair, put on light makeup and got dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue tee shirt before leaving the bathroom. Gretta was waiting outside of the bathroom and she lightly kissed Beth on the cheek before going in. Beth looked at her in surprise, but wasn't able to say anything before the door shut. They all ate breakfast quickly before heading south on the road to New Orleans. They had to get past two checkpoints to get into the city. Police manned the first barricade. Their faces and voices were almost feminine, they were survivors of the virus. Large blacks manned the second barricade. They demanded a toll of twelve hundred dollars to pass. Jefferson negotiated it down to five hundred. They'd kept calling him "ma'am" and he was visibly shaken at the implications, but he couldn't lower his voice any more. The city itself was still running, but in a limited fashion. There were almost no running cars and the old trolley system had been brought back online. Beth and Bill figured out that there was probably no gasoline anymore if the trucks weren't running. They arrived at the port almost an hour later. It was almost deserted except for the ships at dock there, slowly rusting hulks that had seen better days, like old blues singers in the back of a bar with whiskey in their hands and no instruments anymore. They could remember the songs, but could they play them? The ship they were headed for was still there. It looked old, but serviceable. Rust was in scarce supply and fresh paint in abundance. A group of toughs sat playing cards at the base of the gangplank. They got up when the car pulled up. Beth could see that the foursome were burly women, with hair tied into queues and ponytails. Gretta got out and spoke to them in quiet tones. "Open the trunk," she told Bill, who was driving. He seemed more submissive to her recently. His face had softened considerably, his eyebrows shaped themselves into thin arcs and the long horsy looks that he had to begin with were more like a classical Greek statue of a woman. His voice had been cracking all day so he had let either Gretta of Jefferson do the talking. Three of the tough gals took everything out of the trunk while the fourth ran up the gangplank to converse with the sailors up there too. Beth saw that they were women too. Maybe they had had the virus longer than the Agents had? she thought. They sure didn't carry themselves like women at all. She looked at one of them to her side as she got out. This one was six-feet tall and almost three wide, she had a pleasant, if not particularly beautiful face, nice hair, wide hips, slim waist and d cups. She smoked a pipe and wore a white turtleneck and blue pants. "Um, excuse me?" she asked. "Yes?" the sailor replied, clenching the pipe in her tobacco stained teeth. Her voice was like a female wrestler on TV. "Where will we be staying on this trip?" Beth asked trying to determine if she was a T-girl. "Back of the ship. Above the crew's quarters, miss," she replied and ran up the gangplank. "Gretta?" Beth called. Gretta walked over to Beth from the gangplank. "Yes, Beth?" she answered. "Were these ladies men?" she said low. Gretta looked at the crew. "Yes," she said and turned back to get her stuff out of the front of the car. "Oh," she said quietly. I guess it really is happening, she thought. This was just another nail in the coffin of the idea that everything would be fine. She bounded up the gangplank and smiled at all of the women at the top when she got there. There were about fifty of them. A short, squat woman with b cups, silver hair and a strong handshake greeted her. "Agent, it is nice to see you finally," she said with a light Slavic accent. She smiled at the captain; she looked like she could wrestle a bear. "These are troubled times. My first mate will show you to your quarters." A tall woman with black hair in a thick braid to her ass, a strong face and thick eyebrows walked up. The blue and white striped long-sleeved shirt and white pants she wore completed the picture. Her breasts were e cups and Beth almost stared at them. The woman smiled at her warmly and waved her ahead. She shouldered her duffel and followed her outstretched arm. The quarters were small but clean two bunk beds in a room hardly bigger than a closet. "Miss?" the sailor asked. Her bulk covered the doorway. "Yes?" Beth replied, starting to put her clothes away in a small trunk bolted to the floor. "I do not wish to be rude, but are you like me?" she asked seriously. "Was I a man? Is that what you want to know?" she said folding her panties and putting her box of tampons on top next to her pistol. The first mate colored a little but didn't change her expression. "Yes." "I was. I've been like this for years now. I can answer any questions you might have about what you're going through," Beth said and sat on the bed, crossing her legs. "First tell me your name." "Its Dmitry," she said and sat gingerly on the bed next to her. The T-girl was very large and very close to her. "My name is Beth," she said and put her hand out. Dmitry shook it and smiled at her. "You'd be stunning with a little makeup," she said, meaning it. Dmitry blushed and waved her arms. "Nyet, Nyet," she said flustered. "None of that. I just need explanation of certain things I feel." "Like," Beth fished. Dmitry blushed and looked away. "It is embarrassing." The ship vibrated slightly and Beth looked at Dmitry. "It is tugboat taking us out," she explained. "Won't the captain miss you?" Beth asked. "Nyet. I was asked to talk to you for the crew," she said. Beth leaned back into the hard wall of the bunk. "Why you and not the captain?" she asked. "To save face. The captain should know everything. He... uh... she... does not so I ask and give the answers to her... er... him," Dmitry stammered. Beth smiled to herself. Fifty-three T-girls on a ship and she was the only one who could teach them about their bodies. Oh, she didn't intend to bed them, but it might be just like it was back on the Ranch for a while. "Ok, I'll tell you," she said. The large breasted T-girl first mate looked relieved. "But..." "Catch? Is always a catch..." Dmitry said morosely. Beth giggled and rubbed her foot on Dmitry's leg suggestively. Dmitry looked flustered again. "This isn't anyone's choice, but it helps to have an open mind. It isn't as horrible as you think it is. Just promise to try and have fun. Can you do that?" "I will try, Beth," she said, uncertain. "Good! Now lets get started!" *** Two weeks later they saw the vapor trails and saw faint flashes to the north. They had stopped at Cuba a week earlier and were surprised to see that the island nation was mostly intact. The changes that the virus had wrought were taken in stride and many former men just continued doing what they had been doing before. The government cracked down on any rioters and punishment came swiftly. Beth looked up at the twisting vapor trail - white dragon smoke that did not signal good will - and quailed. The actinic flashes far away and the immediate disruption of the ships communication told her and the crew much. Someone had let loose nuclear weapons. The international radio traffic told the whole story. The United States had fired first. Without orders from the government ten missiles had streaked towards their targets in Russia, Eastern Europe and China. Not many bombs had detonated, only three. Maybe quality control was pretty low on the older ones or the invincible weapons really didn't work that well. A site in Western China, a chunk of Siberia and part of Poland now were glowing. The retaliation was a bit more on target, but the success rate was about the same. The Chinese and Russians had launched ALL of their missiles and hit fifteen targets. China had really had targeted Russia and took out some of their missile silos and sub ports after the fact. Los Angeles, Seattle, and Chicago were gone. France hit Algeria and Viet Nam when they thought no one was looking. Surprisingly nothing came from the submarines all the nations had deployed. Apologies flew from the Interim Government of the United States calming down the other nations. The Mormon extremists who had broken away from their church had been captured and were to be executed. Several military people had been in on the conspiracy and they were to be executed as well. Beth actually hadn't seen much of the other Americans during the time on board the ship. It was almost as if they were avoiding her or the crew was segregating her for some reason. She had been down in the hull learning cargo manifests, in the engine room with the mechanics, and on the bridge as a Navigator. The captain gave her various tests usually comprised of handing her a piece of dirt or dead plant and asking to find the location and how to get there. Beth did this with difficulty at first, but soon she had the hang of it and she was always right. The newly feminized crew began looking upon her as somewhat as a mother figure often visiting her in her cabin to ask questions. One or two of them would learn small things like how to walk correctly as women and they would practice and teach the others. Hair care and makeup questions soon became very popular. They also came asking her personal questions about feelings they were having about themselves or other crewmembers. Beth told them what she would do in similar situations and that they should ultimately should follow their hearts. Some became morose about their new situation and she counseled them. Beth didn't know if any of them were becoming couples; the changes in their bodies might lead some down that road. They still joked and acted like sailors on the deck, but she saw a reduction in the amount of spit if not the severity of the jokes. One of their favorites was to flip a live fish down the front of a sleeping crewmember's shirt. Another one was joking about the size of each other's chest and the welcome they would get in certain ports with monetary amounts named. They gave her a great amount of deference almost as much as if she were a captain. It made her feel weird, but the captain just said that it was harmless so she let it go. Midway across the Atlantic almost everyone started complaining about terrible sinus headaches. Beth started developing them as well about four days after the first one. It became so bad that they had to deploy a sea anchor and drift for several days - no one could run the ship in their condition. It felt like something was trying to get out of their heads from their nose. The pain subsided slowly over the period of a week, but then their joints and pelvises began to hurt. The new pain was low level, but it was constant like they had exercised too much. Beth's breasts grew about a half of a cup size and her foreskin grew back amid itching and pain. She finally ran into Jefferson on one of her midnight strolls that she had started taking to relieve the pain in her joints. The pain was almost gone now and the crew had finally been able to get the ship underway again. The CIA agent was leaning across the railing amidships looking out to sea. Jefferson's hair had been sculpted into very tiny dreadlocks by one of the crew. "Hi Beth," Jefferson said in a completely feminine voice. "Hello, Jefferson," she returned. "How have you been doing? I haven't seen you for awhile." Jefferson looked up from the sea to Beth. He ? no, Jefferson couldn't be called that anymore ? she was beautiful. Her soft face was highlighted with makeup making her high cheekbones and large doe eyes stand out. She smiled and her eyes twinkled with an inner light. The sailor's outfit she wore accented her c cups and sculpted legs. "The crew thought it best," Jefferson said. "They're still isolating Billie and Gretta. They're both really depressed." Billie? She thought. "Jefferson," Beth said, choking a little on her tears. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this." Jefferson sighed and shrugged. "It's a hell of a change," she said. "Not too many people are going to miss the old me. My parents died awhile back, I don't have any brothers or sisters or even cousins. It's not too hard on me." Beth stood next to her and put an arm around her friend. "I'm so sorry for all of this, Jeff. I should have protected the damn thing better," she said hugging her close. She put her arm around Beth's waist in return. "Call me Janine," she said. "I don't look like a Jeff anymore." She sighed and leaned into Beth. "I was blaming you a lot. We all were." She looked away, out to the sea; moonlight reflecting white on black waves. "We had these murderous rages and violent crying fits right after we got on board," Janine explained. "Is that why the crew kept us apart?" Beth asked. "Yes. Billie's real suicidal and Gretta's completely broken down that there are no more men. She was hanging onto Bill, but his transformation unhinged her. She keeps saying maybe there are some that didn't catch the plague, but she'd infect him if she came near him." "It changed vectors?" Beth asked. "We heard on the BBC that its now sexually transmitted, it makes spores like anthrax and it carries from sneezes and breath in aerosol form," Janine said. "Wonderful," Beth said morosely. "We're all plague bearers now." One of the crew walked up, Yegor, a short, squat redhead with a plain farmer's daughter's face. Now that she had began wearing makeup she looked quite pretty; all of her bulk was muscle. "Beth?" she said smiling. "Yegor," Beth smiled back at the Ukrainian T-girl. "How are things tonight?" "Very good. The advice you give me, it was good. She likes me," she said. Beth hugged the short sailor and kissed her cheek. "Girl, I'm happy for you," she said. Yegor smiled back, blushing. "Well, I must go. She waits for me." "Good luck," Beth said, waving to her as she walked away. "I was worried they'd go to pieces when they started falling in love with each other." Janine put her arm back around Beth's waist. "They all love you, you know," she said. Beth looked at her Janine was smiling. "I think I'm their Rabbi," Beth laughed. "You're not their rabbi, Beth. They call you their Big Sister," Janine said. "I think half of them are in love with you." "No!?" Be