Sheena: Your Times Of Pleasure free porn video

This is a sequel to "Sheena" and was done without the permission of the original author, Jennifer Lorissa-Leigh. My attempts to get in contact with her have been unsuccessful; if anyone knows how to reach her, please let me know. That god forbid that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! O, let me suffer, being at your beck, The imprison'd absence of your liberty; And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each cheque, Without accusing you of injury. Be where you list, your charter is so strong That you yourself may privilege your time To what you will; to you it doth belong Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. I am to wait, though waiting so be hell; Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. - William Shakespeare - Sonnet LVIII Sheena, Part II: Your Times of Pleasure ? by: Richard Lawson (being a sequel to "Sheena" by Jennifer Lorissa-Leigh) Melissa smiled as the man lifted himself off of her. He looked down at her, the tension of coitus leaving his face. Quickly, he cleaned himself off, thrust his pants back on, and rushed out the door. Melissa barely noticed all this, basking in the after-effects. Languidly she rose from the bed. Melissa walked towards the bathroom door, along the way pressing the button that would send someone scurrying up to change the sheets and leave a fresh set of clothing for her. It would be the third set left for her today, and it was not even midnight. Melissa opened the bathroom door. One of many doors leading into the bathroom, actually, and if she strained her ears Melissa could hear sounds coming from behind most of them. She padded over to the shower and twisted the handle inside, sending hot water streaming into the tub. Melissa removed what remained of her clothing, carefully donned a shower cap, and stepped inside the shower. The water flowed down her skin, across the slope of her long neck and down her silken legs, washing away the perspiration. The perspiration of... recent activity. A sigh escaped her lips. Melissa reached up to her chest, as always surprised to find the large mounds there, as always shocked by the heft and sensitivity of flesh that should not be. Her hands caressed her nipples, remembering the feeling of a man's hands on them, remembering the sensation of a man's lips suckling them. With a gasp she shut off the water. Melissa leaned against the tile wall, the revulsion warring with the memory of pleasure. At least, she thought it was revulsion. It was... something. A disquieting thought that this was not as it should be. Most often the feeling was subsumed, buried deeply behind desire, desire and need. Only when she'd felt the release of orgasm could Melissa summon forth the sense of wrongness, the feeling of not-right. Shaking, Melissa stepped out of the tub. Letting the water drip off her body, she opened a drawer that was mostly full of a large variety of cosmetics. Melissa pawed through it, conducted a minor excavation, cleared a space where she could see a name written on the bottom of the drawer. A name that used to mean something to her. A name that used to define her. Desperately she read it over and over again, like an incantation, hoping it would summon forth something more. Another door opened. Melissa jerked up, scattering lipstick inside the drawer and covering up the name. She saw another young woman entering the bathroom. A young woman with very long curly blonde hair, perfectly-smooth pearly-white skin, lovely crystal-blue eyes. Her breasts - much larger than Melissa's - hung out from her negligee, which Melissa idly noticed had been ripped. Honestly, Melissa thought, Sheena just can't make any of her lingerie last for more than a day. "Hello, Melissa," Sheena said brightly. She removed her negligee and turned on the shower. "How was your last visitor?" "Fine." Melissa looked down at the drawer, trying to hold on to a fleeting feeling, the memory of the man desperately entering her rising to the front of her mind. "Lovely," she breathed. "Good! Mine was lovely, too." Sheena struggled to put her hair inside her cap, then she entered the shower. Sheena called out over the sound of the water as she quickly began to clean herself. "He was big, you know, but, well, not very good. I mean, good enough, of course, but still, I hope he comes back so I can teach him how to do it right." Sheena giggled. "Not that he did it wrong, exactly. You know what I mean." Melissa did know what Sheena meant. Her cheeks reddened slightly as desire rose again. To have a man inside her, on top of her... the thought was heaven itself. She needed a man, and soon. And to do that, she needed to make herself attractive. Her hands began sifting through the cosmetics, pulled out a tube of lipstick. "I hope we haven't run out of men tonight," Melissa called to her friend. "I mean, even if there's no such thing as getting it wrong, I love to see them try to do it right." Sheena laughed gaily, and Melissa laughed with her. She looked at herself in the mirror, preparing to apply the lipstick. For one moment, the briefest of seconds, the image in the mirror terrified her. Then she smiled and primped and readied herself for the men to come. --- When displaying traits that were considered unfeminine by traditional standards, the subject women's sexual satisfaction was often described as, at best, adequate. Those that stuck more closely to the traditional societal expectations of submissiveness and servitude experienced orgasms approach [with deeper satisfaction.] "Dr. Curri?" Barbara's fingers froze on the keyboad. She looked up, angry, prepared to send away whatever man that had dared to interrupt her. The paper she was writing for publication was important, and brooked no interference. The man's appearance made her pause. Middle-aged, balding, gray. Suit, rumpled, off-the-rack, unironed shirt collars hanging limp. But the eyes - the eyes, muddy brown, were watching her intently, gauging her every reaction. Barbara didn't like that one bit. Barely swallowing back her initial retort, Barbara forced her voice to be low and quiet. "I am Dr. Curri. Who are you?" A hand casually reached inside the almost-thread-bare jacket and pulled out a leather wallet. Flipped open, it showed a large picture I.D. "Lieutenant Ramsey, police department. I was wondering if I might have a word with you." A chill ran down Barbara's spine. "I'm rather busy, Mr. Ramsey. I have a publishing deadline to meet and editing nightmares you can't possibly imagine." "Oh, paperwork." The lieutenant's eyes flicked towards the monitor of the computer on Barbara's desk. Fortunately, Barbara had positioned her computer so that all he would be able to see from the door was the monitor's back. "I know paperwork. I do it all the time, read it all the time. Like, for example, the rather large stacks of paper associated with the twenty-five missing boys from around this university." The eyes, the damned eyes, were watching her very closely. Barbara managed a small look of shame. "Yes, yes, I suppose that does take some precedence. Very well, please sit, but do try to make this go as quickly as possible." "Of course, Dr. Curri." Ramsey walked towards the desk. As he did so, Barbara saved the file, closed the application, and re-ran the hard disk encryption. It would mean a tedious minute or two entering in the rather large decrypt key, but better that than someone reading things they shouldn't. Ramsey sat in the simple wooden chair opposite her more comfortable leather-padded one. The badge had somehow been transformed into a notebook - or, of course, he had simply replaced the badge in his jacket pocket and at the same time retrieved a notebook, all while she hadn't been watching. While the second explanation was the most likely, Barbara had learned long ago not to make assumptions. "Were any of the missing boys your students?" he asked without preamble. Barbara nodded. "A few were, yes. Kenneth Roth, I believe, and Jerry Norton. Others too, I'm certain you know who they are better than I do." "Matter of fact I do." Ramsey glanced down at his notebook. "Seven were your students: Michael Worthington, Jamaal Wallace, Jing-Wen Jia, Arnold Parker, Hans Weinberg, and the two that you mentioned." His eyes flicked up at her, watching keenly. "Any comment on that?" Barbara furrowed her brow, allowing herself to get angry. "Only that a class like mine is required for anyone who wants a B.S. from this university, and that I might have expected more out of the twenty-five to have been my students at one time or another. Did you come here to accuse me of something?" "No, we're just asking everyone." He flipped a few pages in his notebook and held his pen expectantly over the paper. "Do you recall seeing any of them before their disappearances?" Barbara rolled her eyes. "I have hundreds of students. I see them in my classes all the time." "Do you take attendance?" "This is a university, not a high school." "I see." The pen made a few scribbles. "Do you have any special recollection of seeing any of them individually? Did any of these boys come to you with a problem of some sort?" "Not that I remember. I don't encourage students to seek me out." "So I've heard." Ramsey made another notation. "You have a lab here, don't you?" Barbara couldn't help narrowing her eyes. She'd done all she could to make people forget that she'd installed the underground facility some time ago. The lieutenant had obviously done some digging before coming to her. Which meant, she realized, that this was more than an idle inquiry. She would have to be very, very careful. "Yes," she replied after a few seconds. "My research is conducted there." "Research into...?" "Genetic influences on human reproductive urges, among other things." She glared at him, her reactions under control again. "What does that have to do with these unfortunate young men?" "Perhaps nothing." The brown eyes were all over her face. "But no one's been down there for a while, have they?" "*I've* been down there," she said testily. "Anyone else?" "The equipment and the experiments I run down there are quite sensitive. Too sensitive to trust to any students." "Or colleagues?" Barbara blew out a frustrated breath. "Obviously you're not going to be happy until you see for yourself I don't have those students locked inside cages in my laboratory of evil. Come with me and see for yourself." She pushed herself away from the desk and stood up. Her reaction surprised him, Barbara was pleased to notice. Ramsey put his notebook away and rose to his feet. Quickly, Barbara brushed past him. She grabbed her lab coat from where she'd hung it on the back of the door and put it on. Through the door and striding quickly down the hallway, the very incarnation of annoyance. She didn't look behind her, but did hear Ramsey hurrying to catch up. Down the hallway, a turn, down another hallway, then a turn down another, much narrower hallway. This led to the electrical room, a janitorial supply closet - and a door without a handle, an innocuous beige button mounted on the wall next to it. Barbara pressed it with her thumb, felt the slight warmth that indicated the machinery was reading her fingerprint. The door slid open, and Barbara stepped inside. She pressed a button as Ramsey walked in with her. The door closed and the elevator began its descent. Barbara put her hands in her coat pockets and carefully kept her attention away from Ramsey. Still, she could hear uneasiness in his voice, "How deep underground?" "Perhaps a hundred feet." "Why?" "It used to be a bomb shelter. This building was constructed in the early fifties." That part was true; Ramsey was free to discover that himself. The door slid open. Barbara stepped out, turned, and crossed her arms under her breasts, glaring at the lieutenant. "Well? See any cages?" Ramsey stepped out of the elevator, his eyes flicking around the place. "What is this, some sort of Batcave?" "I didn't design it, Lieutenant." Barbara glanced around the slightly cavernous chamber. "I imagine the people who built the bomb shelter took advantage of a natural feature of the underlying bedrock. Look, believe it or not I do have better things to do with my time then discuss architectural history with you." The eyes looked at her sharply. She met his gaze, irritation etching her features. Finally the older man began wandering towards a door on one side. He opened it and glanced inside. "A bed?" "I often stay very late. I also keep some clothing in those closets." She waved at them, hoping he didn't actually check. The amount and style of clothing would lead to awkward questions. She had answers ready, but would rather not test them on this sharp-eyed man. To her relief, he ignored the closets. Ramsey walked around the perimeter of the lab, still looking at everything. A large window allowed him to peer into a small room with a bank of control panels. Ramsey pulled on the door and verified that it was unlocked, but he didn't venture inside. Continuing his stroll, the lieutenant stopped at the full-length mirror and rapped lightly on it. Barbara smiled. "No secret exits, no hidden chambers. Is there anything else I can do for you, Lieutenant?" "Hurm." He walked towards the center of the chamber. Two metallic spheres rested on chest-high pillars of chrome tubing. Between them a silvery plate gleamed on the floor. Ramsey examined it as he had everything else. "And this?" "It's one of the experiments I'm working on." Barbara felt her pulse quickening. "What does it do?" Tell him it does nothing. "It's an orgasm machine," she found herself saying. The lieutenant turned towards her, surprise on his face. "You must be joking. A what?" "An orgasm machine." God, Barbara, not him, not now, not when this much attention is being drawn to the university's missing students. "Would you care to try it?" "Try it? What would it do?" "It would give you an intense orgasm." Her breathing quickened. Barbara took two steps towards the control room and stopped. "*Very* intense." Ramsey peered at her. "Have you tried it on anyone else?" "I told you, no one else is allowed down here. But I've tried it myself." The smile that spread across her face was not forced at all. "It was incredible. I'd certainly appreciate another perspective, however." "Oh?" The interest was plain on his face. "Yes." Barbara almost leapt from where she was standing and strode towards the control room. "If you'll remove your clothing we can begin." "Remove my clothing?" Ramsey frowned. "Why?" "The magnetic fields the machines generates are delicate. Clothing disrupts them." Barbara took position in front of the control panels and began flipping switches. "Believe me, Lieutenant, I've seen my share of naked men in my studies. This *is* the Institute for Human Sexual Studies. You have no reason to feel self-conscious on my behalf." "Perhaps, but I'd feel self-conscious on *my* behalf." Ramsey stepped purposefully away from the humming spheres. "If it's all the same to you, Dr. Curri, I have better things to do with my time than to be a guinea pig." Barbara looked down at the control panel and bit her lip hard. Deep disappointment fought with intellectual relief. What she'd almost done... what she still wanted to do. With incredible effort, she shut down the machinery. With even more effort, she put herself back into character. "Very well, Lieutenant, and thank you *so* much for not allowing even the tiniest benefit to arise - no metaphor intended - out of this colossal waste of time. Do you have any other questions?" Their eyes met through the glass of the control room window. Ramsey's face was blank, expressionless, disturbing. Barbara kept her face relatively calm, but still with a tinge of anger. After half a minute, Ramsey shook his head. "I believe that's all. Please do contact us, though, if you hear from any of those students." "Of course I will," she barked at him. Briskly she made her way out of the control room and towards the still-open elevator doors. Ramsey followed her, his face still quiet. Barbara pressed a button and the doors closed and the elevator began its ascent. Barbara cast about for something to say, something to deflect his suspicions, if he still harbored any. She decided to say in a low, not-unsympathetic voice, "I hope you find them, Lieutenant. I really do." His voice was slightly clipped. "Thank you, Dr. Curri. I'm certainly not going to rest until I uncover what's happened to them." Barbara cursed silently. That sounded like a not-so-subtle warning. If only she hadn't given in to her urges down there. Now she'd have to be even more careful. And she'd better start making... other plans. The door slid open and Barbara walked through to the corridor beyond. It occurred to her as Ramsey followed that this was the first time a man had actually ridden *up* the elevator. --- Melissa primped in front of the mirror, almost bouncing on her feet. Hours it had been since she'd last had sex - necessary, she supposed, for eating, sleeping, that sort of thing. And chatting with the other girls was fun in a way. But nothing, *nothing*, compared to having a man in her bed. Footsteps sounded outside. Smiling widely, she went to the door, waiting for it to open. Instead, a shy knock barely reached her ears. Impatiently, Melissa flung the door open. "Hello, handsome," she said in a well-practiced seductive voice. Although it was something she always said, the man was indeed handsome. He had to be around her age, perhaps twenty or twenty-five. Slightly above-average height, slightly dusky skin, blonde hair that bordered on being golden. Green eyes in a pleasant face that, currently, looked quite uncertain. This was very likely his first visit to this house, far removed from the edge of town. "H-hi," he stammered. His eyes drifted from Melissa's face down to the nearly-transparent negligee she wore. A warmth spread in her chest. Melissa reached out and took the boy's hand, drawing him slowly into the room. She turned as he walked past her, closing the door behind her, leaning against it, lifting up one leg to perch stork-like against the sturdy mahogany, her hand still gently clutching his. "What's your name, honey?" "B-Bill." He seemed almost embarrassed to look at her. His gaze frantically sought another focus in the room; his eyes focused on the large four-poster bed, widened comically, and quickly locked back on hers. "I, uh, don't, I mean, this is my, uh, first time in a place like, uh, this, it's, y'know, a p-present from my father, he, uh, thought it would, y'know, perhaps, maybe, help with, uh-" Chuckling, Melissa pushed herself off the door and fell into him, her breasts pressing against his chest. "Hush, now. Melissa will make this easy for you." She reached up, drew him in for a kiss. He responded, awkwardly at first put with growing passion. She could *feel* him getting harder, which wasn't always possible and a sign of good things to come. Frantically, her hands began fumbling at his pants, unbuttoning them, reaching for the zipper. Unexpectedly, Bill stepped backwards, breaking the kiss. "Wait! I, uh, don't know you. I, uh, mean, shouldn't we, y'know, talk first?" "Talk?" Melissa stepped forward again, gently placing her hand inside the waistband of his boxers. "I don't think this wants to talk." Slowly, she got on her knees. "N-no!" Bill jumped back again. "I, uh, you, what, you, how... tell me about yourself. I'd, uh, like to know about you before we, y'know..." Melissa chuckled again. "Everything you know about me is right here." She cupped her breasts, watched his eyes lock on them. "Come, honey, it's what we both want. What need do we have to talk?" "I, uh, I don't know! It's just..." Bill swallowed. "I don't, uh, feel comfortable unless I, uh, know, um, something about, uh, I mean, where do you come from? How did you get, uh, here?" She could never get annoyed, not now, not with a man in her bedroom. But something that might be the precursor to impatience began welling Inside her. "Look, Bill... when you're inside me, I'll tell you everything you want to know." She stepped forward one last time, her hands tugging his shirt up his torso. "All right?" "Uh, all-all right." Bill allowed her to pull the shirt over his head. Melissa eyed his chest, which wasn't particularly well-defined but wasn't flabby either. Mostly that meant nothing to her either way; she'd had enormously fat men in her bedroom as well as professional athletes. It was what they had below their waist that drew her attention. Melissa knelt again, drew down his pants, inhaling the scent of his manhood, the aroma making her dizzy with desire. Bill was definitely fully aroused, and the gently kissed his length, feeling the warmth with her lips, his pulse against her tongue. With a sudden movement, Bill reached down and scooped her off her feet. Melissa squealed in delight as he placed her in the bed. Instinctively she spread her legs as he positioned himself over her. Very slowly he entered her, and Melissa began trembling, the sensation wonderful beyond words, the disquieting feeling that this was not normal easily overwhelmed by the need to have him begin moving. Curiously, he didn't. He held himself over her, and Melissa, who had Closed her eyes at his penetration, opened them to see Bill looking down at her. "Okay, you promised. T-tell me about yourself." Silly boy. She reached up and drew him in for a kiss, her tongue Parting his lips and wrestling urgently with his. Melissa wrapped her legs around Bill and lifted her hips, drawing him in as far as she could, then relaxing and feeling him pull slightly out. Her breasts, pressed against his chest, were practically burning with pleasure, his weight sparking familiar (incongruous?) sensations of ecstasy. Melissa again lifted herself up, drew him in, and relaxed, and this time Bill cooperated. He began thrusting, building a rhythm she gleefully contributed to. The... strangeness... moved in and out of her, and she loved it, something in her mind loved it, and she broke off the kiss and turned her head to the side, moans coming unbidden from her throat, the desire building, building... Then Bill went rigid. The knowledge that she had brought him to this state was enough to push her over the edge and her own orgasm went off, a deep pulse that spread from her groin and sent warmth all over her body. Her mind greedily absorbed the sensations, sucking every bit of pleasure it could. Then, slowly, the need in her mind withdrew, sated, her body still alive with sensation but no longer burning with it. He was still on top of her, his body practically a dead weight against Melissa's. She turned her head and found her lips very close to his ear. "I was a student, once." Her whisper surprised him as well as herself. "I went to the university." Bill shifted slightly, his voice not a whisper but very quiet. "University? You mean the one up in town?" "Yes." Her breathing was slightly ragged. "I... I lost myself there. And then I came here. And... and here is where I'll stay... until... until..." "Until you find yourself again?" Gulping, Melissa could only make herself nod, once. Bill turned, and now their faces were only an inch apart, his eyes Finding hers. "Can I help? Can I help you find yourself again?" Melissa blanched. "No. Not here." "Th-then maybe at... at the university?" Her mind quailed, images briefly surfacing to be savagely thrust down by a cold, nameless fear. "I... I don't know. I don't know." His face was quiet, thoughtful. "I'd like to help." The fear grew. "You... you don't... you *can't* understand..." "I'd like to try." His voice was firmer. "Please." The fear grew, along with... desperation. Something that clamored, that begged for release. And not the release she normally craved, day after day after day... "All right," she whimpered, the fear almost drowning out her words. "If you can, if... if..." "I can. I will." Bill's voice was hard and soothing at the same time, and Melissa found comfort in that. She clung to him desperately, and wondered when the urges would begin again. --- Barbara sat stiffly in the chair, uncomfortable with being in this position. She was the one who made other people wait, not vice-versa. Dr. Viola Armstrong sat at her desk, flipping through the pages of Barbara's article, an affectation, since it was much easier to read on the computer. Armstrong was nearing seventy, and was well past the time she should have resigned as the head of the department, in Barbara's opinion. Having to deal with Armstrong's idiosyncrasies was getting to be more and more of an ordeal. Perhaps, Barbara mused, Armstrong would benefit from a trip down the elevator. She sharply cut off that train of thought and did her best to put on an expression of patient waiting. "Hmm." Armstrong peered over the top of her reading glasses at Barbara. "How long have you been working on this?" "Several years," Barbara replied. "It's just one aspect of the research I've been conducting; I anticipate being able to publish more articles in the weeks to come." "Really." Armstrong dropped the print-out on her desk and settled slightly back in her chair. "Any doubt about your conclusions?" "None whatsoever. I have ample data to back them." "Indeed, and what hints that you drop in the article fascinate me. I'd like to see more about those gene pairings you found and their effect on human sexuality. That one discovery could justify your research." Barbara frowned, "I wasn't aware my research needed justification." "There have been rumblings. Take this article you want published. 'Submissiveness leading to greater sexual satisfaction?' That's an absurd conclusion." "It is not absurd," Barbara snapped her mouth shut, struggled to keep her anger under control. "I have the data-." "So you said," Armstrong sighed. "This article reminds me of the reports I read many years ago, when this field of study was still relatively new. Reports written by men trying to tell women how their bodies worked and what their sexuality was based on. I find it difficult to believe that you would support this conclusion." "It's what the data supports!" Barbara slapped her palm against the arm of her chair. "If you'd seen the data, you'd write the article exactly as I have!" "Would I?" Armstrong looked at Barbara sharply. "I have much difficulty picturing you, for example, deriving much satisfaction from being a submissive sexual partner." "My sexual practices are not being studied here!" Barbara snapped. "Dr. Evans agrees with my results, and you should as well." "Ah yes, Dr. Evans. I'm glad you mentioned him." Armstrong patted the printout on her desk. "He's seen this? You've discussed this with him?" Barbara clenched her jaw and forced her anger down to manageable levels. She had gotten carried away and made a bad mistake; she couldn't afford another. "I talk to him from time to time. He agrees with what I've written." Armstrong folded her hands over her lap, watching Barbara closely. "As you know, Dr. Evans is largely responsible for your tenure here. He sponsored you, showed us some truly brilliant studies you'd done, convinced us - me - to hire your before another university did. And not a month after you'd gained your tenure, he abruptly resigned and left the university." Carefully, Barbara put a look of slightly puzzlement on her face. "And What does this have to do with my article?" "Nothing at all," Armstrong said serenely. "But it occurs to me that Dr. Evans disappeared in very much the same fashion that these unfortunate young men have done very recently. Suddenly and without a trace." Barbara's face darkened. "He talked to you himself. He personally Handed you his letter of resignation." "And I've not seen him since. I've made a few inquiries. No one has... except, apparently, you." Just enough rationality remained for Barbara to decide that she could legitimately show anger. "What are you accusing me of, Dr. Armstrong?" "I wasn't aware that I was accusing you of anything." "Please don't patronize me. Do you think that I'm responsible for the disappearances around here? And that I started my serial kidnappings with Dr. Evans?" Barbara glared at Armstrong. "That is patently untrue and a remarkably vindictive accusation to make, Dr. Armstrong." "Such words. If you would ease my suspicions and have me apologize for my apparent vindictiveness, there is something you can easily do. Have Dr. Evans contact me." Armstrong stood up. "Otherwise, I may be forced to consider whether your undeniably remarkable research is worth your arrogance and the air of mystery and uncertainty that seems to surround you. And whether or not we can continue to allow you to continue to use the Institute's facilities or keep your tenure intact." Barbara shot to her feet. "How dare-" "Good day, Dr. Curri." Barbara stood with her fists clenched, fury threatening to overwhelm her. With a curt nod, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the office. That woman. That damned woman. She had the power to ruin everything, just when Barbara was ready to the whole world with the insights she'd gained. It could not be tolerated. It *must* not be tolerated. And yet, her slowly-returning rationality told her, it *had* to be tolerated. There were ways of allaying Dr. Armstrong's suspicions, no matter how... unpleasant. Slowing her pace slightly, Barbara began to think. --- Melissa stood underneath a tree, a slight distance away from the road. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon. Melissa normally didn't see one - usually she was just drifting off to sleep as the world outside began to brighten. She was tired - very tired, she'd had more company than usual during the long night - but something inside her kept her awake, kept her focused on the pavement, the empty stretch of highway about a mile from where she'd spent so many nights this past year. A pair of lights appeared in the distance. Barbara fixed on them, Watched them get brighter. Soon she heard noise as well, the sound of a well-tuned recent-model automobile. The sound grew deeper as the car slowed, stopped. After a second, a figure inside the car reached over and opened the passenger-side door. "Melissa?" The voice was familiar and definitely male. Melissa giggled and ran to the car, climbing in and closing the door behind her. Bill grinned at her. "Hi. I, uh, wasn't sure you'd be here." Melissa looked down, saw that his seatbelt was unbuckled. She reached over, grabbed his shirt with both hands. She pulled, hard, lifting him out of his seat as he let out a startled gasp. Melissa grinned - she'd surprised many men with her strength, apparently out of all proportion to the litheness of her arms and legs. Melissa leaned back, pulling him on top of her. She reached to one side of the car seat, felt around, found the handle and pulled it, collapsing the seat as far back as it would go. "M-Melissa!" Bill looked around. "W-we're moving!" Indeed, the car was slowly moving forward. Melissa glanced out the window, saw the branches of the tree, knew that the car had rolled off the road and onto the grass embankment. The wheels hit a ditch - very shallow, just enough to tip the car slightly to one side and bring it to a halt. "It's all right, honey." Her hands were moving again, fumbling at his belt. "H-here?" Bill looked wildly around. "But someone, uh, will see us, um, eventually." "Then we'd better hurry." Having gotten his zipper undone, Melissa brought her hands underneath the short skirt she was wearing. She moved the panties to one side, leaving her slit (dear God, how did *that* get there?) open. The position was awkward in the extreme, but with Melissa's gentle persistence Bill was able to leverage himself inside of her. As always, the feeling was electrifying. No matter that her sheer blouse wasn't quite as effective as a silk negligee at feeding sensation to her breasts, no matter that Bill wasn't quite able to bear weight on her but was instead bracing himself against the door and her shoulder. He was inside of her, he was moving, and that was all she needed. The moans began to escape her throat again. Bill suddenly stopped moving, and she could feel him pulsing inside of her. Desperately, Melissa increased her own motion, moving along his length even as it was covered with a new lubrication, becoming quite slippery. Melissa reached up touch her own nipples, poking prominently through her blouse, and that, finally, was enough to set off her own orgasm. She rode it for all the pleasure she could obtain, her head lolling to one side, her moaning slowly subsiding. As she basked in the feelings, Bill pulled himself out of her. With much bumbling and a muttered curse, he got himself back in the driver's seat. Melissa found enough motivation to lift her head and look at him as he cleaned himself off with a paper napkin. He glanced at her, reached into the back seat, and grabbed a few more napkins. "Here." Melissa stared at them for just a second, then slowly took them. At the house, there were people who quickly and quietly changed the sheets as Melissa showered. The paper napkins seemed... dirty. Unclean. Yet, she forced herself to realize, this was his car and he had a right to expect it to be kept clean. As well as she could, she cleaned off her groin and legs, then turned backwards in her seat to clean off the vinyl as best she could. "That's good enough. Thanks." Bill held out a paper bag from a fast- food restaurant. Melissa stuffed the napkins into the bag and settled into her seat, lifting it upright again. She glanced at Bill briefly, frowned, smiled, frowned, then looked away, feeling vaguely troubled. Bill's voice had a slightly unpleasant edge. "Is that what... what you wanted to show me?" The memory of the sensations brought a smile to her face. "Yes." Bill shot her a stricken look, pain mixed with a tinge of disgust. Her smile quickly faded. "No. Sorry. I just..." The need, a man within easy reach, able to satiate her. "The university. It's there." Bill closed his eyes, appeared to gather himself. He opened them again and put the car into gear. "Okay." The car lifted itself out of the ditch, hit the pavement with a squeal, and shot down the highway. They didn't speak. Melissa focused on the road ahead, disquiet growing Into fear again. She hadn't been this close in... weeks, months. Her whole life had become the house, the endless men, the satin sheets. That was falling further and further behind her as the car moved inexorably forward. The need began stirring, urging her to go back. Melissa bit her lip and hung her head, holding on for all she was worth, hoping it was enough. After a few turns, stops and starts, Bill turned off the car engine. "Here we are." Melissa lifted up her head, startled. Bill had pulled into one of the Main parking lots close to the campus buildings and away from the dormitories. At this very early hour the lot was almost empty. It was all so... familiar. In a daze, Melissa opened the car door and got out, looking around and around at the buildings, trying to call forth memories that remained stubbornly hidden. Her eyes fell upon an old, red brick building across a wide expanse of lawn. Suddenly her mouth went very dry and she stood rigid. Bill came up beside her. "There?" he pointed. "Is that where you... Lost yourself?" Unable to speak, Melissa nodded. Bill examined the building thoughtfully. "Well then... let's go find you." Gently, he put his hand on her elbow and guided her forward. Melissa, for perhaps the first time in her new life, found her whole mind and body glad that a man was directing her actions. Alone, she never would have found the courage to approach the building. He guided her up the stone steps. Bill reached out and pulled on a door, seeming mildly surprised when it opened. "Inside?" "Y-yes." Melissa felt her panic reaching new heights. Bill didn't quite have to drag her into the building, and so far she was still putting one foot in front of the other. The corridors seemed impossibly long, stretching into infinity. Melissa clung to Bill's arm as they moved along the empty hallways. They reached an intersection and Melissa stopped. Bill frowned at her slightly as her gaze wandered around. Almost unwillingly she indicated a narrower hallway. Bill led her down it, his own face full of caution. Melissa dragged her heels into the marble floor, staring at a simple elevator door. It meant something, that door. It... it went... down... down where... where... ...the humming, the warmth of the spheres, the voice in her ear, the sexual ecstasy that never ended, finally ending, not ending but... *subsiding*... waiting... Melissa looked up at Bill, her eyes as wide as they could be. "Come on." She pulled her arm out of his grip and grabbed his arm instead, leading him past the elevator to a janitorial supply closet. Melissa grabbed the handle and found it locked. Grimacing, she stepped back and kicked it once, twice, and it gave way. Grunting in satisfaction, she pulled Bill into the closet and closed the door behind them, leaving them in darkness. "What... what are you doing?" Bill sounded quite alarmed. "I need you, Bill. I need you now." She reached for his belt, her hands going right to it despite the darkness. "Again?" Exasperation resounded in his words. "Why?" "I just do. I just... can't *think* unless..." Her hands stopped their work, and she looked up at the dim outline of his face. "Please?" He sighed, "Is this necessary?" She mustered all the certainty she was capable of, put it in her voice. "Yes. Please, love, for me." Another sigh, and now his voice was slightly rueful. "Somehow having a beautiful woman beg to have sex with me isn't nearly as appealing as I'd thought it would be," he chuckled. "All right. For you." Melissa let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She reached down and continued unbuckling his pants. Bill felt around her waist and found the zipper to her skirt. He dragged her skirt and underwear down at once and she stepped out of them, at the same time unbuttoning her blouse. She wasn't wearing a bra, and after Bill had finished removing his own pants, she cupped his chin with one hand and brought his lips to her nipple. He began gently suckling on it, and Melissa felt the awful, familiar, wonderful heat begin to rise again. Slowly she stepped backwards, pulling Bill along, until she was standing against the wall. Bill moved his lips to her other breast and continued his ministrations. Melissa began breathing heavily, her ample chest rising into his face and falling away again. Her bare legs could feel him stiffening again. Melissa began trembling, the anticipation overwhelming. She pushed his head away from her breast, put her arms around his neck, and lifted herself up. He stumbled slightly forward and used both his hands to brace himself against the wall. Carefully, Melissa lowered herself onto him, impaling herself on his length. Again it was awkward, but Melissa was both strong enough and supple enough to do all the moving for both of him. Slowly at first, then with increasing frequency, she raised and lowered herself along his manhood, Bill doing what he could to assist. The sensations began to build, her mind as always luxuriating in the feeling of a... man... *inside* her. She shivered and increased her tempo, feeling her breasts bounce up and down, a delightful experience. And yet, even as she continued to grind against him, something wasn't... right. The release her mind clamored for, her body tried desperately to achieve, remained just beyond her fingertips, teasing her and not giving her full satisfaction. She tried moaning, and found that it felt shallow and unfulfilling when she was doing it deliberately. Her eyes, which had been closed as she concentrated on finding release, opened and focused......on Bill. Her eyes had adjusted enough to make out vague details, his nose, his lips, the closed eyes, the intense look on his face. Bill, who had wanted to know her, who had heard her unspoken plea for help, who had come to her side, who had given her courage when she needed it, who had acquiesced to her desire when it didn't exactly match his because she had needed it. Melissa leaned forward, wrapped one arm around his neck to keep herself moving, used her free hand to cup his cheek. Bill's eyes flew open, and although she couldn't quite make out his pupils, she knew he was looking at her, meeting her gaze, finding joy in her sight... The orgasm struck with an intensity she'd felt only once before. Her whole body spasmed, a shout stuck in her throat, the pleasure rising, cresting... and falling. Something inside her mind was overloaded by the sensation and shut down. Melissa drew a gasping breath. "Thank you." Bill's voice was full of humor. "*You're* thanking *me*?" She felt something dribbling along the inside of her thigh and realized that Bill had achieved his own orgasm somewhere along the way. She hadn't even noticed. Carefully she lifted herself off of him and stood against the wall, needing its support temporarily. Bill fumbled around the closet, which was smaller than she'd realized, and presented her with a cloth that felt somewhat clean. Carefully she wiped the mess off of her legs as Bill put another rag to good use. Feeling remarkably calm, Melissa put her clothes back in order. She watched Bill dress as she buttoned up her blouse. For some reason she found it infinitely fascinating just watching him move. He faced her, watched her silently for a full minute. Finally, he said quietly, "What now?" Melissa drew a deep breath, then pulled open the door, blinking in the relative brightness of the hallway beyond. "Follow me. We have to hurry." Bill followed her the short distance to the elevator door. "Why?" "Before I... I... we just have to hurry." The need was still there... she could reach for it if she wanted to. Right now she didn't want to, but she wasn't sure how long that would last. Her eyes darted around, drawing on memory normally suppressed, found a button, pushed it. "Where does it go?" Bill tapped the elevator door. "Down. Far down." Melissa frowned and pressed the button again. "Um." Bill appeared to be holding back a lot of questions. Melissa appreciated that. She could only do this one step at a time. The elevator door slid open. Melissa sighed in relief and quickly Stepped inside. Bill followed her, frowning at the two buttons on the control panel. "No markings." "No." There hadn't been last time, either. As she'd... she'd... done before... she pressed the lower, unlit button. The doors slid closed and the elevator began descending. Bill looked around nervously. "I, uh, didn't realize that, uh, there were so many levels, um, below this building." "I didn't know that either. Before," Melissa gulped as the elevator slowed, stopped. The doors slid open. Bill whistled silently. "Wow. Look at it." Melissa's legs seemed frozen. With effort she willed them to move, stepped out into the room. Bill followed her, staring slack-jawed at the contents of the cave. The elevator door slid shut behind them as Melissa fought down panic. "What... what... what, um, *is* this place?" Bill looked back at Melissa. "H-how did you, um, lose yourself here?" Melissa heard him but couldn't respond. Her eyes were fixed on two chrome spheres rising above a silver metal plate. She took one step forward, two, three, stopped, stared. At two chrome spheres rising above a silver metal plate. Bill stayed close by her side. "What is it?" "It's an orgasm machine." Melissa's throat closed. Her mouth opened but no sound issued. Slowly she turned to see Dr. Barbara Curri standing in the doorway that led to a bedroom. She appeared slightly frazzled, as if she'd just woken up. But her eyes were sharp and alert, watching them carefully. Bill stepped in front of Melissa, placing himself between her and Dr. Curri. "You're kidding." Dr. Curri rolled her eyes. "They all say that. No, I'm not kidding. It's an orgasm machine. Isn't that right, Melissa?" "Y-yes," her voice was a squeak. Dr. Curri smiled reassuringly. "Don't be frightened, Melissa. Feel free to show all your friends this machine. I have always encouraged young men like your friend here to experience it. No need to feel guilty about bringing him down here." Melissa tried to respond, couldn't. Bill seemed uncertain. "You... you know Melissa?" "Yes. She came here once to assist me with an experiment. Understand, she was working at a brothel at the time - I'd guess that's where you met her. She had experienced orgasms, of course, but felt that something was missing. I had her try my orgasm machine, and not only did she have the most intense, pleasurable orgasm of her young life, but it allowed her to become a better lover than she'd ever thought possible," Dr. Curri chuckled indulgently, "As I'm sure you're aware." "Um." Bill fidgeted slightly. "She, uh, she said, she, uh, l-lost herself here." "It's easy to lose yourself in the sensation of the machine," Dr. Curri said easily. "Melissa wanted to try it again and again. I let her do it twice more, then stopped. Frankly, it had become too addictive. She's been dying to try it again but I won't let her until she can control herself better." "C-control herself?" "Yes. She's... well, she's quite... forward about sex, you might say. Always has been, the machine did nothing to alter those proclivities. When she can ask me calmly and in a well-mannered fashion, I'll let her try again. But not before." Bill turned his head to look at Melissa. The stream of lies and the sheer presence of Dr. Curri had stunned Melissa into shocked silence, but now she opened her mouth, prepared to utterly refute everything the older woman had said. "Melissa, please do be gracious and remain silent rather than compound whatever... mistruths... you may have told this young man to draw him here." And just like that, Melissa found herself completely devoid of an inclination to speak. She closed her mouth and hung her head, feeling ashamed for no reason she could fathom. Dr. Curri sighed, "I do apologize, young man, she meant no harm. And I can't keep calling you 'young man'. What your name?" "Uh, Bill." He turned to face Dr. Curri again. "Bill M-Matthews." "Bill. Are you a student here at the university?" "Here? Uh, no. I, uh, live, um, north a ways." "I see," Dr. Curri sounded amused. "Came here from far away to visit the brothel outside of town? No need to respond, I see the answer in your eyes. It's nothing to be ashamed of, Bill. This is the Institute for Human Sexual Studies; we specialize in studying the drives that bring people like you and Melissa together." Melissa lifted her eyes, saw the back of Bill's neck turned red. He evidently felt embarrassed. Melissa tried to open her mouth, tried to find words to say, couldn't. "Well, no need to keep you. Again, I apologize on Melissa's behalf; perhaps I should never have let her use the machine. No one else has pestered me for repeat treatments; for most everyone, one treatment usually suffices. Afterwards, they find it easy enough to reproduce the feelings they achieved without the need for my apparatus." Dr. Curri began to turn away, then stopped and eyed Bill thoughtfully. "Would you care to try it, Bill?" "M-me?" Bill looked at the chrome spheres. "Certainly. I feel I owe you something for Melissa dragging you out at this ungodly hour. It will only take a few minutes, if you're inclined." Bill frowned thoughtfully. Dr. Curri shifted her gaze. "Melissa's tried it, don't forget. Haven't you, dear?" ...the humming, every nerve tingling, the pleasure working itself inside her brain, burrowing, deeper and deeper... Melissa shuddered. "Yes, Barbara." "And you enjoyed it, didn't you?" ...the sweat glistening on her body, the bolt of orgasm... Melissa closed her eyes, feeling herself becoming aroused at the memory. "Yes. Very much." "There, you see Bill? That's the look of a woman that's lost herself in the experience. I'm certain, however, that you have better control than she does. How about it? Would you like to experience what Melissa did?" "Um, it is, is it, um, safe?" "Yes, absolutely. I've tried it myself, as have several other students here at the university. Truly, what this machine has to offer will astound the world once I'm ready to release my findings. How'd you like to be one of the first to experience it?" "I'd... I, uh, don't know." "Melissa." Dr. Curri's voice commanded Melissa's attention. "Remember back to when you used this machine. Describe what you feel." ...the penetration, the very first, giving her sensations both exotic and exciting, her hips moving, taking it in as far as she could... "Wonderful." Her eyes still closed, Melissa bit her lip. The pleasure was almost too intense to recall. "Absolutely wonderful." "All r-right," Bill's voice still sounded uncertain, despite his words. "I'd, uh, like to see what Melissa experienced." "Excellent," Dr. Curri's voice echoed with satisfaction, "Take off your clothes and we can begin." "M-my clothes?" "The machine generates delicate magnetic fields that clothing interferes with. You were naked, weren't you Melissa?" She opened her eyes reluctantly, letting the memories fade. "Yes, Barbara." "Thank you, Melissa. Come with me." Melissa remembered the last time she'd been in this chamber. Dr. Curri had asked her to wait in the bedroom, and she'd readily agreed, eager to please the woman that had bestowed this wonderful gift upon her. The inclination to obey Dr. Curri was harder now to rationalize, but no less compelling. Meekly, Melissa followed the scientist into the control room as Bill, blushing, began removing his clothes. Dr. Curri pointed at spot near the wall. "Stand there. Don't move and remain silent." Melissa complied. She turned and watched as Dr. Curri touched a purple square on her control panel, then another and another. Each lit up briefly, then a deep whine filled the room. Bill, in the process of taking off his underwear, looked around in alarm. Dr. Curri smiled and spoke into the microphone, her voice echoing in the room beyond. "Don't worry, Bill, it's normal. Now, when you're ready, place your hands on the spheres. Stand with your feet slightly apart, facing- that's it. Very good." Melissa looked out at Bill, his hands on the spheres, and suddenly deep panic rose from her. She whimpered. Dr. Curri glanced at her briefly, and Melissa cringed, utterly unable to make a sound. Dr. Curri nodded and pressed another glowplate. Melissa watched as a panel lit up. After a few seconds it displayed several pictures that popped up one after the other. The familiar double-helix of a DNA strand. Something that looked like an encephalogram of a human brain. And other things that Melissa couldn't make sense out of. Dr. Curri examined the pictures as she spoke into the microphone. "If you feel uncomfortable, you have simply to remove your hands from the spheres. That will break the circuit and shut off the machinery." "I, uh, understand." Bill's voice, coming from a hidden speaker above them. Dr. Curri smiled and wrote on the glowplate with her finger, letters that were turned into a block font that spelled out a name. WILLIAM MATTHEWS. Dr. Curri then pressed another glowplate and the screen containing all the information suddenly shrunk, became a small glowing box in the bottom of the main display. Dr. Curri looked through the window, and Melissa followed her gaze. Bill's head was thrown back and he had an erection. Dr. Curri spoke into the microphone, her voice low and serene on the verge of being mocking. "Do you feel that? The pleasure that courses through your body? It's just the beginning, Bill. It will get much more intense from here on in. The sensations will be unlike anything you've ever experienced." It was too much. Melissa opened her mouth, and found it closing of its own volition. This was not lost on Dr. Curri. She considered Melissa thoughtfully. "Come here, dear, next to me." Melissa took two steps forward, looked at Dr. Curri expectantly. Her former physics professor pressed another purple square on the control panel. Another window opened, covered with symbols. The only thing that Melissa could make sense of was more of the block lettering on the bottom. TRANSFORMATION MATRIX 2.5.002. "Speak into the microphone. Tell Bill what this machine is." Dr. Curri touched a dot in the corner, and the whole window lit up briefly. Melissa trembled. "It's... it's a gender modification unit." Bill opened his eyes, looked at her curiously through the window. She could see that the sensations had already overwhelmed him, that he was having difficulty really understanding what was being said to him. And... she could see that it had begun. His erection had already fallen. His skin began to glow slightly, began clearing, the hair on his chest thinning and fading away. "Go on," Dr. Curri prompted, sounding a little out of breath. "Tell him. Tell him everything." Melissa fought with her tongue, found it moving, making sounds. "It... it was built by... an alien technology. It... allowed them to... make changes to themselves. To experience intercourse from all possible aspects." Bill had shrunk a couple of inches. His muscles began to subtly re- arrange, his hips just beginning to flare. And still he looked at Melissa in confusion, his chest heaving. "Enough about the machine," Dr. Curri said in a husky voice. "Tell Bill what's happening to him." Bill, I'm sorry, "The machine is turning you into a woman. Right now." He shook his head at her, his eyes questioning. His lashes, Melissa noticed, had become fuller, longer. His face was softening along with the rest of his skin, his lips becoming redder, more pronounced. "The ch-changes that have been made so far are mild," Melissa's voice continued. "You can stop them at any time. All you have to do is pull your hands away from the spheres. For God's sake, Bill, pull your hands away!" Dr. Curri chuckled, "He won't be able to. Could you?" Bill frowned, then looked down at himself. In time to see his hips begin to widen in earnest, his legs begin to thin and take on a new definition, his hands begin to become almost dainty. And as he looked down, his hair flowed over his head, falling down the side of his face in long, very straight, golden strands. The whine of the machinery grew in intensity. Melissa gasped, cried out, "Hurry, Bill! It's about to happen! Take your hands away, step back, jump up in the air, do *something*!" Bill looked up, his face partially covered by his hair, one emerald- green eye looking at Melissa through the heavy glass. She thought she saw one of the muscles in his forearm twitch. "Too late," Dr. Curri crowed, "look!" Bill chest began to puff out. At the same time his now-tiny penis shrunk even further, hardened, and was enveloped by rapidly-forming folds of flesh hidden behind a patch of blonde hair. The puffiness on his chest, now rapidly building mass, became a pair of firm round breasts with large areolas and nipples that quickly filled with blood and became darker and harder. Melissa found her eyes fixed on his breasts, wondering how large they'd become. Somewhat surprisingly they stopped growing while still relatively small. Melissa looked Bill up from head to toe and found that he'd become a very slender, lithe woman. Beautiful, of course, but in an entirely different way from Melissa's generous curves or Sheena's voluptuousness. "Very good," Dr. Curri mumbled. Melissa ripped her eyes from what had become of Bill to see Dr. Curriy touch another button. Light from the ceiling bathed Bill, made him seem to almost glow. Words flew across the control panel. Dr. Curri read them, smiled. "Melissa, read this out loud." The words scrolled by quickly. Melissa read what she could, snatching a sentence here and there. "Subject has acquired human female blood chemistry. Subject's thought patterns and brain chemistry are now female. M-menstruation will begin in subject in twenty-one point two days. Ovulation will begin in subject in fourteen point zero days. Configuration of subject's clitoris and all orgasmic neural pathways are within human female norms. Subject's v-vagina is of normal human configuration." Melissa swallowed heavily. "V-vaginal p-p-penetration b-by an... an..." She desperately didn't want to say the words, couldn't fight the compulsion, found herself nearly choking. A hand patted her shoulder. "It's all right, dear, we'll get to that Very soon. Just read the last two lines." Melissa glanced at them, then looked up at Bill. "Gender metamorphosis procedure successful. Subject is now a w-woman, age twenty-two." Bill looked stricken. As stricken as he could with a look of lust on his face. He turned his head, tossed his hair back as best he could, looking around slightly wildly, then slowly closing his eyes, the pleasure commanding his features again. "Good, the initial programming is holding," Dr. Curri murmured. Melissa looked over at her, then down at the screen. Dr. Curri pressed more of the glowing squares, then smiled in response to a prompt on the screen. Melissa read it: ENTER DESIRED AROUSAL LEVEL. Below it was a virtual slider. Dr. Curri put her finger on a bar in the middle, slid it all the way to the right. With a nod, Dr. Curri pressed a button and stepped back. "Now, Melissa, let's watch your boyfriend lose his rediscovered virginity." A slight scraping sound from the room beyond. Melissa stared back through the window, watched as something rose from the floor. A metal arm that ended in an obscenity, a very large phallus. It moved towards the conjunction of Bill's legs. It pressed against the triangle of golden hair, made minute adjustments in its motions. Bill, his eyes still closed, managed to widen the distance between his thighs even as his feet remained firmly planted. The phallus found an opening and slowly began to disappear. Bill cried out in a pleasant alto, thrust his hips forward. The phallus began to withdraw, then moved back and began pumping in earnest. Bill cooperated with the motion, his head hanging back, his moans coming with increasing frequency and volume. Melissa almost jumped the grip on her arm. She looked over to see Dr. Curri watching Bill, her eyes wide, her mouth opened slightly. Dr. Curri didn't even seem to be aware that she was clutching Meillsa's arm; her whole attention was on Bill. Melissa glanced down a slight ways, saw that Dr. Curri's nipples were showing through her shirt and bra, displaying definite signs of arousal. Feeling slightly ill, Melissa looked back in time to see Bill cry out one last time, then go limp. The phallus withdrew and descended into the floor, a plate closing over it. Dr. Curri sighed. She released her grip and stepped back to the control panel. It only took the pressing of two purple squares to make the display go dark. "Come, Melissa," she said. "Let's go meet your new housemate." Obediently, Melissa followed Dr. Curri back into the chamber. Bill had removed his hands and had them cupped over his breasts. He looked first at Melissa, then at Dr. Curri. "Wh-what did you d-do to me?" "I gave you a wonderful gift. The same gift I gave Melissa. Don't you like it?" "I... this... this isn't..." "Isn't what, honey?" "Isn't... m-me." "Sure it is," Dr. Curri said soothingly. "That was certainly you crying out in ecstasy, wasn't it?" "W-was it?" Bill looked uncertain. "Of course. You were enjoying the feelings of sex, weren't you?" "Y-yes." Bill closed his eyes. "Oh yes." "What were you thinking of? What image did you have?" "A... a m-man. Was m-making love to me. Violently. In a closet." Melissa moaned - despair, not pleasure - and was quieted by a frown from Dr. Curri. "I... I don't..." Bill opened his eyes. "I... I c-can't be a woman." Dr. Curri grinned and reached out to push Bill's hands further into his breast. "You are, dear. Can't you feel it? Not just there, but in your heart and mind as well?" "N-no," the denial lacked force, "I... I'm in l-l-l-l..." "Love? With Melissa?" Dr. Curri snorted. "But don't you see? Melissa loves you too! That's why she brought you here. She loved you so much she wanted to share this with you." Bill's lovely new eyes found Melissa's. Melissa wanted to shout, to Shake her head, to do anything. But she couldn't contradict Dr. Curri, so instead she said nothing. "I... I see." Bill smiled. "Does that mean I get to live with her?" "Yes." Dr. Curri's voice was a mixture of triumph, satisfaction, and condescension. "But we can't call you Bill any more. How do you like Cynthia?" A feminine giggle. "I love Cynthia. When do I get to meet a man? I, um, I c-could use one right now." "Be patient, dear, we have a few things to do first. But soon, I promise," Dr. Curri gestured towards the door, "There's a bedroom in there, with some closets full of clothing. Find something you like and put it on. Then we'll take you and Melissa back home." "Okay! Th-thanks, Dr. Curri." The newly-created woman bounced towards bedroom. Dr. Curri smiled widely. Then she bent down and began picking up the clothing near the spheres. "So, Melissa, dear, what are we to do with you?" Something tingled down Melissa's spine, "I don't know." "Don't you," Dr. Curri was still smiling slightly as she carried the clothes to one wall. A panel opened as she approached. She dumped the clothing inside and it disappeared, dropping down to someplace Melissa couldn't see. Dr. Curri turned to face her again as the panel slid shut. "You received the latest version of my programming. You and Sheena both. But no one, not even my earliest test subjects, was able to actually attempt to carry out a plan to change themselves back. As I assume you were doing." Melissa wanted to deny even as she knew it was useless. Something inside her wouldn't allow her to lie to Dr. Curri. She dropped her eyes slightly. "Remarkable. And yet, I wonder if you could have really done it," Dr. Curri sounded thoughtful, "I was watching you after you pressed the call button. You were becoming more and more reluctant the closer you got. You could barely walk into the room. I somehow think that weren't going to be able to follow through with it in the end, especially with a young, virile-looking man within easy reach." That was wrong. Melissa hoped it was wrong, hoped that she would have been able to reverse what had happened to her. And yet, there was an element of truth - parts of her mind were certainly fighting to keep her as she was. Even as she thought that, she realized that she didn't have to lie to Dr. Curri. All she had to do was let that part of her mind carry her away. Satiated as it was by current experiences, it took very little prompting on her part to bring it back to life. Melissa shyly smiled and shook her head, "No, I wasn't. I... I began th