At home with Melody
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The Sisters Of Melody free porn video
Synopsis: When James was released from jail, after being
arrested for murder, he didn't know his problems were only
just starting, as a designer virus attacks his DNA and
starts changing him into... what?
The Sisters of Melody
By Marianne Nettes
It started when Janet opened the weekly newspaper at work.
'That bloke they want for murder looks just like you,' she
said. She held up the Photofit picture for inspection, and
I had to admit, the picture looked remarkably similar to me
?- along with ten thousand other men in London.
'Don't be stupid,' Sue said. She slightly fancied me, and
always stuck up for me in any office argument. 'That's
nothing like James. Anyway,' she gave me a special smile,
'James would never go with a woman like that.'
I gave her a quick smile back. This debate could be getting
onto dangerous ground, but I had to ask the question. 'A
woman like what?'
'It was a prostitute he murdered.' No niceties with Janet.
'Quite pretty, if you like them plump. Her name was Melons
Delight. I can't think why.''
She held up another picture from the newspaper, of a
bikini-clad woman, and there really was no doubt at the
reason for her name. With breasts that large, she would
delight every man in sight.
To be kind to Sue, who has a very slim figure, I had to
shake my head and say, 'Definitely not my type,' and I
disappeared into my office before I could get into any more
dangerous argument.
***
The police came banging on my door at five am. There was
absolutely no need for a dawn raid, of course, except
purely as a way of unsettling me. They said someone had
reported me as the identical match for the photograph. I
wouldn't have been surprised if it was Janet - she's never
liked me very much.
Of course I denied all knowledge of Melons Delight, apart
from seeing the newspaper report. Unfortunately, the police
found her card in the drawer where I keep all the odd bits
of paper. Then they arrested me.
***
I knew it had been stupid of me to deny knowing Melons and
visiting her on the day of her murder, but as I told the
police, I really didn't want my association with a
prostitute to become common knowledge. After all, I told
them, it wasn't as though I knew anything about the murder.
I was forced to admit I'd seen Melons many times, the last
being on the evening of the murder, almost two weeks ago.
I'd been out of town the next day, I told them, when her
murder hit the headlines, so I hadn't realised she'd been
killed. Very convenient, they said. I told them it wasn't
until Janet had shown me the newspaper article that I'd
connected the murder with Melons. A likely tale, they said.
The police took me through it all, time and time again.
They fingerprinted me and got the police surgeon to examine
me. He took blood samples, which they hoped to match up
with a spot of blood on a sheet and the DNA of tissue found
under Melons' fingernails. I told them it would, because
she had dug her nails into my back as I'd exploded inside
her - and Melons had certainly known how to make a man
explode.
I couldn't convince the police I was innocent, and they
couldn't get enough evidence to charge me, so twenty four
hours after I'd been arrested, at five-thirty am, I was
released from the police station.
***
My heart sank even lower, as the car slowed down beside me
and I heard the words, 'Oh, thank heavens I've caught you.'
I'd walked no more than a hundred yards from the police
station, and had just realised I hadn't a single coin on
me. I'd decided there was no way that I was going back
inside to ask for a lift, so I'd resigned myself to a three
mile walk home in the pouring rain. I turned to face the
voice.
'I'm Dr. Wright, the police surgeon. You remember I
examined you yesterday, and took a blood sample?'
I nodded, slowly.
'I've discovered something wrong in your blood. Can I give
you a lift?' He reached across to the passenger door and
opened it for me.
Well, he wasn't a policeman, his car was dry, and he was
offering to take me home. I got inside the car. 'Something
wrong with my blood, you said?'
'You appear to have a nasty infection.' His voice sounded
muffled, and I turned to look at him. He had pulled a
surgical mask over his face. He caught my stare, and added,
'Just a precaution. It's probably unnecessary.'
'What sort of an infection?'
'We don't know at the moment. I'd like you to come to my
clinic, where we can do some tests.'
'Now?'
He nodded. 'Yes. I think you should come now.'
I sighed and shrugged compliance. Ten minutes later, we
were pulling into the grounds of what had once been a large
detached house, and which now bore a sign: NHS Viral
Infection Clinic and Isolation Unit. I was starting to
become extremely uncomfortable about the direction things
were going in.
Inside, a nurse met me, wearing a full protection suit,
with mask and breathing gear. The large bulge on her chest
was the only indication of her sex, and she appeared to
have a pair of whoppers. Perhaps, I thought, things weren't
too bad after all.
She took me into a private ward, and left me to undress.
Ten minutes later, she was back with Dr. Wright, and he too
was now wearing a full protection suit. He examined my body
in minute detail, and took further blood samples for
analysis, and asked me all kinds of questions about how I
felt, which actually, was completely normal.
The pair again left me, but an hour later they were back,
still wearing the space suits.
'You certainly have a viral infection,' he said. 'It's like
nothing before seen by medical science, and I suspect it's
some kind of designer virus.'
'Designer virus? You mean someone has designed it? Like a
terrorist weapon?'
Dr Wright nodded. 'Similar, although it's difficult to say
at this stage how effective a weapon it would be. I've been
onto both the Government Chief Medical Officer and Special
Branch. I'm afraid they're going to seal off the hospital.
Take all the other patients somewhere else, and leave the
three of us in isolation.'
'You mean you, me and Nurse...' I turned towards the nurse,
hovering behind the doctor.
'Nurse Thompson.' I could just see a smile through the face
mask. 'Wendy Thompson, actually, since we're going to be on
quite close terms over the next few weeks.'
'Weeks!'
Dr Wright nodded. 'I'm afraid so. Until we're certain the
virus can't infect anyone else.'
'But I feel alright. Why can't I simply go home?'
'You might spread it, James,' Wendy said. 'We can't have
that. Besides, we need to be close to you in case the
symptoms strike quickly, as we suspect they will.'
I gave a long sigh. 'I'd better call my office and my
sister.' She was the only family I had.
'I told you the hospital has been sealed off.' Dr. Wright
said. 'I'm sorry, no telephone calls, or any other
communication with the outside world.'
'No phone calls! That's ridiculous! Why not?'
'I suspect they're worried about spreading panic. I'm sure
the appropriate people will be given a suitable message.'
He gave me an injection to boost my immune system before he
left, but it certainly didn't boost my confidence.
***
The symptoms hit me in the middle of the night. By the time
I was fully awake, I was already dashing to the toilet
before... Well, you can probably guess what followed:
vomiting, diarrhoea, and a feeling like the worst hangover
I ever had.
Next morning, it got worse! In fact, there's little point
in dwelling upon the next few weeks. They were the most
horrible in my life, and I was too ill to even worry about
whether I was going to live or die.
Wendy Thompson and Cyril Wright did me proud. One of them
was always there when I needed them. They helped to clean
me up and gave me injections to counter the infection, and
a pep talk whenever I was reasonably cognisant.
They had decided after a few days that their own particular
DNA would be immune from the virus, so they had abandoned
the space suits. Wendy had turned out to be a woman in her
late fifties, and it shows how ill I was, that I hadn't
even been disappointed that she wasn't a nubile twenty-five
year old.
It was Wendy who was with me on that fateful day when I'd
started to recover from the worst of the symptoms, and was
finally getting a grip on reality.
'I'm growing breasts,' I said, looking down at the bulges
in my pyjamas.
'Yes,' she said, 'and a nice pair you're getting too.'
She wasn't meant to respond in that way.
'That's the wrong answer,' I told her. 'You're meant to say
it's just a temporary result of the illness, or whatever
medication you've been giving me.'
Wendy looked carefully at me. 'Well, I think Dr. Wright did
explain the position to you, some time ago, but you may
have been too ill to take it in. We believe the virus is
causing you to have a sex change.'
'A sex change! Jesus! You're kidding me!'
She shook her head. 'No. The virus is changing your DNA to
something completely different from the original. Every
cell in your body is slowly being rebuilt, based upon the
new DNA. You may have noticed that your skin looks brand
new - that's because it is. In fact, I think you're going
to turn into an extremely beautiful woman.'
'Can't you stop it?'
'You've seen how we've been fighting the virus over the
last four weeks. Nothing we've done has stopped it.'
'Presumably, you can reverse it afterwards? You know,
design another virus.'
Wendy shook her head. 'The Medical Council would never
allow us to design a virus to change your DNA like that.
It's against all their rules.'
'But...'
Wendy held up her hand. 'Look. Your body is being renewed.
It's growing in the shape of an extremely beautiful young
woman. Your actual age is thirty-nine, isn't it?'
I nodded.
'Well you biological age is that of an eighteen year old.'
I gasped. The implication had just struck me. I was a
teenager again. Who wouldn't willingly go through a sex
change in exchange for that?
***
I was still confined to the bed in my private ward, whilst
Wendy and Cyril had accommodation elsewhere in the clinic.
Wendy said she would hunt around the clinic for some
clothes that would fit me, left behind by previous
occupants. I didn't dare ask whether they were dead or
alive when they left.
Sure enough, over the course of the next few days, she
brought in loads of clothes, most of them very pretty,
which fitted me superbly. I had a wonderful time trying
them on, and parading in front of the mirror. Wendy also
managed to find some make up, and taught me how to use it.
Whilst all this was going on, Cyril looked on like a doting
father.
It was about that time when I realised there was a closer
relationship between the two of them than they had admitted
to date. They were just too familiar with each other.
'You two are married, aren't you?'
Wendy looked at Cyril who nodded, then she turned back to
me and said, 'Yes. I guess we should have told you on the
first day, but there was so much going on then.
Afterwards... well the three of us are already isolated
from the rest of the world - we didn't want you to feel
isolated from us, as well.'
I nodded. 'I guess I understand, but I am a big... girl.' I
was still having to remember to get my sex right, in
conversation.
Which brought me back to a subject I'd been pondering
overnight. 'Do you know anything more about the virus, yet?
How contagious is it, and how many others have contracted
it?'
Another glance between them followed by a nod. This time it
was Cyril who spoke. 'I'm afraid we misled you somewhat
over the virus. I injected it into your vein the first day
you arrived, along with a hefty shot of a drug to lower
your resistance.'
He said it so casually; he might have been talking about
giving me a flu jab.
'Sorry?'
'You heard correctly. The virus was a designer virus. I
designed it to attack your DNA string, and yours alone.'
'But why?'
'You murdered our daughter.'
'Your daughter! You mean...' I was having problems grasping
this '...Melons Delight was your daughter?'
'Her real name was Melody Wright, but she changed it when
she left home, at the age of sixteen. We lost touch with
her for some years. We located her a couple of months ago,
and we moved to London to try to get her to come back to
live with us. And you killed her.'
'But I didn't. I swear.'
'It's immaterial now, as you have been sentenced by Wendy
and myself to replace our daughter. You only have to look
in the mirror to realise the sentence is well on the way to
completion, because the virus is causing Melody's DNA to
take over your body.
'Before we moved to London to be close to Melody, I was one
of the leading research scientists in viral research. I
took the job as police surgeon simply as an expedient,
before I found a more suitable job.
'However, it brought me into contact with you, the person
who killed my daughter, but whom the police couldn't get
sufficient evidence against to bring a charge. I took the
sample of your blood, and it was child's play to produce
the virus to attack your DNA and convert it into Melody's.
And we made a quick makeover on our rented house to make it
appear like a hospital. You are in the only hospital ward
in the building.'
I sat back, hardly able to believe what he had said, except
that it fitted all the facts. 'So what happens now?'
They looked at each other, and smiled.
'It's up to you, Melody dear,' Wendy said. 'If you want,
you can report us to the police, and no doubt we will go to
jail. But it will have been worth it. We have re-created
our daughter who was brutally murdered. Everything else is
immaterial.'
'On the other hand, Melody,' Cyril cut in, 'Melody's
identity is still available. The police haven't connected
Melons Delight with our missing daughter. You can take her
birth certificate and start a new life, living with us or
living apart, the choice is yours.'
***
Well, what would you have done? If I had gone to the
police, even supposing they believed me, I'd have been
branded as a laboratory freak - forever identified as some
kind of non-human, like Dolly the Sheep. I told them I had
to have time to think about it, but they weren't stressed
either way. Their daughter was alive again.
But there was something else which occupied my mind for the
next few days. Eventually, I spoke about it to Cyril.
'Cyril, you agree I have nothing to lose by telling you
about the murder? That I have served your punishment for
it?'
He gave a sympathetic smile. 'Of course. In fact, I think
it would be better all round. You know, clear the air, and
then we would all know where we stand.' Another smile. 'So,
do you want to tell me about it?'
I nodded. 'Yes. I didn't kill her.'
He frowned. 'As I said, it's your choice whether to tell
us...'
'I've told you. You said yourself I have nothing to lose by
telling the truth, and the truth is that I didn't kill her.
She was all right when I left.'
He shrugged. 'Okay, if that's what you're saying. That's
fine.'
'It's not fine, Cyril. Because if I didn't do it, someone
else did.'
He looked thoughtfully back at me. 'Look, the police
established that Melody was careful about security. She
didn't let any old punter into her place, and she'd told
her friend that you would be her last trick for the
evening. It had to be you.'
'Most murders are committed by the victim's own family.' I
stared at him. 'Melody would have let you into her flat.'
'What!' In an instant, he was furious. 'Melody was my
daughter. You think I could have murdered my own daughter?
We were always so close, until she had that stupid row with
Wendy, and went storming off. I was heartbroken.'
'Was Wendy as close to her?'
'No, she never really wanted a child and... What the hell
are you suggesting?'
'You know what I'm suggesting. Where was she on the night
that Melody was murdered?'
'That's preposterous. Okay, she wasn't at home that day,
but she was at a conference, until late into the evening.'
'Can you check?'
He didn't say a further word to me - he simply stormed out
of the room.
***
'The conference finished early on the first day. One of the
speakers couldn't make it.'
The words were forced from Cyril's tight-lipped mouth, as
though I had put bamboo shoots under his fingernails. 'She
lied to me about that. I wanted you to be the first to
know, but I'm going now to confront her.'
'NO!'
The abruptness of my response was enough to halt him in his
tracks. 'It's only fair I have it out with her.'
'Is it? I don't remember you having it out with me before
injecting me with the virus.'
'I admit I made a mistake with you. That's why I want to
challenge Wendy now.'
'You know she was capable of doing it, don't you? Now you
also know she lied about having the opportunity. Cyril, you
know she is guilty.'
He sat down in a chair and shrugged. 'You want me to go
straight to the police?'
'No. I want you to give her the same sentence that you gave
me.'
'You mean change her DNA to be the same as that of my
daughter? So that I'd have two daughters?'
'It's only fair, after what you both did to me. Remember,
she encouraged and assisted you to change me, knowing I was
totally innocent.'
***
A few days later, whilst Wendy was changing the bed linen,
Cyril came up behind her and pushed her onto the bed, and I
sat on top of her whilst he injected her with a
tranquilliser.
We kept her sedated for most of the day, until the symptoms
of her viral infection came exploding out, in the same
messy way as mine had done. After that, followed the same
weeks of care and attention for her that she had given to
me. It wasn't a very nice task, but I knew that it was a
thousand times better being a nurse, than the poor patient
on the receiving end. Besides, I was gaining a twin sister.
And who wouldn't go through hell for a twin sister?
She knew exactly what was happening of course, and she
confessed to Melody's murder straightaway. She'd gone round
to Melody's flat after the speaker had pulled out of the
conference. They'd had a stupid family row about Melody's
profession, followed by threats and counter-threats, which
led to Wendy smashing Melody over the head with a stool,
and fracturing her skull.
Six weeks after we injected her, Wendy had turned from a
fifty-eight year old woman into my beautiful, eighteen year
old twin sister. She was delighted with her new body, and
very grateful to me for forcing the idea upon Cyril. She
knew that otherwise, he would have been responsible for
sending her to a jail for many years.
In fact, my sister started to bear quite a grudge against
Cyril for that, which I was only too happy to play upon.
With a bit of persuasion, and some private swotting, she
was able to design the virus for Cyril, and we both held
him down whilst she administered the tranquilliser, and
then injected the virus.
***
The nun slipped the hood from her head, and allowed her
gown to slither to the ground. Underneath the thin cotton
habit, she had the body of a hooker. The man lying on the
couch in front of her looked confused, as though he still
hadn't worked out why today she was wearing religious garb,
when last night she'd had on a short black dress, with a
plunging halter neck. Seeing his confusion, Sister Melody
Wright tried to briefly explain.
'We all know the tremendous urges arising from the need to
sexually reproduce. But at its best, sexual reproduction
creates a new being which has many differences from the
parent. Can you imagine the incredible urge you would have
to reproduce an exact genetic replica of yourself? I can
assure you, it is unstoppable.
'Which is why I let you chat me up in the pub last night,
and suggested that you let me fuck you in the back of my
Ford Transit van, although I'm sure you didn't realise that
meant being zapped with a stun gun.'
The man looked down, at the straps around his arms, chest
and legs, which held him firmly in place on the recliner.
He gave a little struggle, but he was too sedated to become
violent.
Sister Melody continued. 'Let me tell you a little about
the Order of the Sisters of Melody, of which you are just
about to become a life member.
'In this convent alone, we have thirty cells, all
containing Sisters in various stages of conversion, and
over the last year, we have converted ninety-two men, like
you, to become new Sisters. Some have recently gone abroad,
as missionaries, to spread our DNA in America and Europe.
Hopefully, by this time next year, there will be thousands
of our Sisters, all over the world. In a decade or two, who
knows, we may even run the world.'
She held up a hypodermic syringe, and squirted a little
colourless liquid from the needle. 'So, may I say,' she
smiled, 'Welcome, Sister, to the Order of the Sisters of
Melody.'
The End
***
Author's Note: Authors are welcome to use this story as the
basis for other stories, if they so wish, provided
acknowledgement is made to this source. MN
Trish
- 02.07.2022
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