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