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Gulliver's Planet 2 by [email protected] Her thighs were sore. Her stomach muscles, sore. She felt as if she'd run a marathon. It only took a week of heart-pounding sex for her to realize just how out of shape she was. She'd been used and used again; her head still whirled with pleasure. If she wasn't careful, she was going to find herself falling head over heels for him again. The aching was so bad, she was considering having her body regeneticized. She wanted to feel young again, supple; she wanted to feel like she was twenty, able to balance her legs up over head and be divided and filled in the deepest way possible. Polly gazed over at Terri. He was still catching his breath, dripping with sweat and smelling manly and wonderful. God help her, she'd just had him and she wanted him all again. "What happened to you?" she asked, feeling betrayed by her own mind. Her damn female mind that voiced its suspicions before she had the good sense to intervene. "What do you mean?" His clear blue eyes flashed a smile that caught her breath in her throat, made her heart pound, her nipples twitch and her thighs rub together all firm, squirmy and wanting. "This isn't you," she said. He sat upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed so he was facing away from her. "Our contract is up in a couple of months." "Next month." "No." He turned, his gaze falling at first upon her face, then drifting slowly down to her breasts still glistening with sweat. "September." "No," she corrected, and felt herself wanting to add, 'You never remember', but she didn't, and wasn't sure why. His cock had her shut her up somehow and she wanted it to shut her up some more. "The minister forgot to file the papers, remember?" "Right, and so they retroed it a month." "No," she said, "they retroed it two months by accident, remember?" You never remember. After a moment he whispered with astonishment. "Oh, yeah." "It was the old joke, remember? That we were technically married before even you proposed." He chuckled and relied on his old punch line. "If I'd known that, I would've started doing you before we met." She didn't laugh. She wanted to though, and that was his cock talking to her again, all that stretching and moaning and sliding in making her want to please him long after it was gone. "Was it my message?" "Your message?" He turned away again, rubbed the back of his neck. Her eyes drifted down his spine to his ass. "The one I left you on Gulliver." "Oh." She waited, but he apparently considered the conversation finished. "Okay, so if it wasn't the message, then what was it?" "Polly, what does it matter?" "It matters." "Why?" His eyes were on her again. He tried so hard to meet her gaze, but could only see her belly, that belly he wanted to fill, that belly that led down to the soft thatch that covered her sweet mound. "Because... I'm not going to renew it." That got him. She rolled over, showing him her ass. He stared at it. He couldn't help himself. His eyes rolled up and down her hills, her valleys, her curves and that ever promising crease. "I... see. I thought.... I guess I thought I was trying to make you happy, y'know, give you what you wanted." "What do you want, Terri?" "I-" He hesitated and it crushed her. The answer should've been clear. It never had been with him. "I used to want things," he continued, "but now... now they don't seem important anymore. Now, I can't believe I ever thought they were important. Now, I only want you. I can't believe I ever felt any other-" "That's what I'm talking about!" she yelled. Her eyes flared with anger; his, with confusion. "What?" he wondered. "That!" His eyes searched the room as if expecting the answer to present itself on a golden platter. "What?" "Did you fuck someone else?" she accused. "I-" "I knew it!" But she couldn't get angry about it. They'd discussed the open clause of their marriage; they'd agreed to it. Hell, it had been her idea. She couldn't get angry about it. No, she could, but she shouldn't. It wasn't fair. "No, you don't understand." "No? Make me understand, Terri! Because that's what happened. You went off and had the fuck of a lifetime on that sex planet and you feel guilty-" "No." "-and now you want to give me all the fucking you've been denying me just because I wouldn't go make myself into your regenified wet dream and the only reason I didn't is because for once I just wanted to be loved for me and not for having twenty year old tits or whatever!" He was speechless. The truth was he was still deciphering all that she'd said. In such arguments, he always felt a little thick, a little slow. "Polly-" "And I wanted to, you know, but how would you know? You didn't bother to know. You never bothered to know anything about what I was feeling or what I'm thinking and I only want to, y'know, just be open and-and-" She hated crying, hated sobbing in the middle of a thought. It made her feel weak and worthless, but she did it every time and this time was no different. "Polly-" "-and just have you know me besides, y'know, fucking me and shit, I even like being fucked but you didn't want to because of what? Because I had a wrinkle or I didn't go along with the fucking perfect regging society that all you men seem to think-" "It was a man." "-that all of us should be, like we're just fucking dolls to-to-" She was struck dumb. "Wh-what?" "It wasn't what you think." Her eyes searched the same corners of the room his had. "What wasn't?" "On Gulliver." "Wh-what do you mean it was a man? What was a man?" "The thing you're alluding to, the epiphany, the change in me. I felt... things." He was shamefaced, beet red, eyes down like a puppy caught peeing on the carpet. "I-I have to check the contract." She couldn't remember putting any language about homosexuality, but she was certain it was implied; she just wasn't sure a court would see it that way. "The contract didn't cover anything like what I experienced. As usual, the law hasn't caught up to technology." Feeling lost and confused and like a stranger on a new planet, she whispered, "Oh." He told her then. Every detail, every thing he could remember. How Gulliver had arranged to have him lit into a female clone, hoping to exploit the "accident". How Terri had beat him at his own game, adapting to the female body and learning to use it for his own advantage. How after the deal was concluded, he'd been so deeply enticed by the pleasure domes that he'd handed himself over into Gulliver's waiting grasp, and been used and abused and had loved every second of it. She sat and listened and at some point realized she was trembling. When he was done, she stood, her lips trying to find words, her face as white as a ghost, and then she left without a word. He thought about the contract. To himself, he mumbled, "If I'd known it would be over so soon, I would've enjoyed it more." # # # He was in bed when she returned, smelling of men's cologne and liquor and marijuana. She'd exercised her part of the clause apparently, which was her option to do, but it still hurt. His had been accidental; hers.... She crawled into bed and listened to his breathing. He was wide awake and waiting for her to say something. She wanted him to speak first. They lay next to each other for a long time, feeling as far apart as any two people could feel. Their mouths opened at the same time. His voice started a fraction of a second earlier than hers. "I do love you." "We should go to Gulliver." Their voices hung in the air like an echo. In the end, her words prevailed. He rolled toward her and whispered, "What?" She rolled toward him and met him eye to eye. Her cold hand slithered beneath the covers and grasped her warm pulsing prize. "You and I." Her prize began to grow. "Why-why would you want that?" "You got to live out your fantasies-" "They weren't my fantasies." "Still...." It pulsed in her hand and she gave him a grateful handshake. It was unlike her to be so bold, so forward. "So, what... you want to go and get fucked with me watching?" "No, I want to fuck you. In the worst way." He tried to shove his pelvis toward her, but she tightened her grip on him until he whimpered. She could see by the lines appearing on his face that she was causing him distress. "I don't get it." "We either go to Gulliver together or... I won't renew." She loosened her grip and began to stroke him tenderly. His breath matched the pace of her hand. His face flushed with desire. "I still don't understand." "You will." She grinned. He reached for her, wanting to feel the softness of her flesh, of her lips, bucking his pelvis in an attempt to communicate his need, but she released him and pushed him away. She shook her head, grinned and wagged her finger at him. "When we're on Gulliver, and not a second before." He swallowed hard. She'd done it again, caught him off guard, jerked the carpet from beneath his feet. No matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to predict her desires. He wasn't sure whether he should be excited or worried. In the end, he was both. # # # Gulliver sat before him, his hair greased back, looking more haggard than Terri remembered. His teeth shone as bright as ever, but there was a weary quality to the set of his eyes. They sparked to life only when Polly sat in her chair, spread her dress neatly over her legs and blushed through the freckles of her host body. Jesus, you're a wolf, Terri thought and had to grin. "So, Mr. Waites," Gulliver smiled, noticing Terri's grin and taking a quick and discreet glance at Polly's breasts, "what can I do for my favorite salesman?" "We're here on vacation actually," Polly interrupted. Terri shrugged and affirmed it with a nod. Gulliver raised an eyebrow. "I see. I must admit, I haven't handled the day to day operations of my domes in some time, but considering the clientele, I'd be willing to provide some guidance if you like." Terri raised a hand, words perched on his lips, intending to relieve the most powerful man in the universe of such a menial chore, but before he could, Polly smiled and said, "We'd be very grateful, Mr. Gulliver." Polly missed the shocked expression of her husband, the disagreeing shake of his head, the anguish in his eyes. "Was there a particular interest you two had in mind?" Gulliver asked, appearing suddenly less haggard. In fact, his interest had been piqued. He had fond memories of Terri and was clearly intrigued by the type of perversities that might naturally draw he and his wife. "We want the same type of adventure that you gave my husband last time," Polly told him. The room became unnaturally still. The realizations in the room were like trapped birds fluttering in a panic. First, Gulliver realized that Terri had come clean with his wife. Second, Gulliver realized that he'd inadvertently exposed himself to possible legal difficulties, not to mention the public relations nightmare should Polly decide to make trouble. Third, Terri realized he was in deep, deep trouble. Gulliver clasped his palms together, enjoying the smooth-as-chalk feel of them. "I'm sure your husband has informed you that his adventure was quite accidental." Polly smiled and nodded. "He informed me of every little thing. I'm not here to cause trouble, Mr. Gulliver. In fact, it's just the opposite. He described his shock at the lightport at having been given the wrong gender clone. And he described every thing you did to him in your marvelous domes. All I'm asking for is a repeat performance." Gulliver's eyes narrowed; he studied Polly for a long time. She'd chosen jet black hair, clipped into sharp bangs, blue eyes and a diminutive frame. Her breasts were taut and perfect, quite a departure from her real body, which was even now resting in some preservative goo on the other side of the solar system. Terri had chosen a rather large frame, blonde hair, blue eyes and an angular jaw. Typical clone faire for the light traveler. Handsome, if generic. Gulliver was a little disappointed in Terri's choice to be honest and surmised that it had been influenced by the presence of his wife. "A repeat performance can certainly be arranged," Gulliver said, his tone dry and quiet, "but it won't be an exact duplication. Will it?" Polly's pretty blue eyes blinked. "What do you mean?" "Well," Gulliver grinned, "this performance will involve you. Will it not?" She blushed. "Yes. I see what you mean, and yes, I would like to be intimately involved." Terri's complexioned had run the gamut; pale white, sickly yellow and now hot red. "Now wait a damn minute!" Polly patted his leg. "Sweety, be a dear and skedaddle. Mr. Gulliver and I have plans to make." "The hell I will-" Gulliver intervened. "We'd need his consent in any case, Mrs. Waites." "Why? You didn't have it last time?" If her smile hadn't been genuinely sweet, Gulliver would've cut the meeting short and booted up his lawyer link, but he sensed it was as she'd said, not meant to cause trouble, but to satisfy whatever needs she'd dreamt up. "And I got caught," Gulliver replied, "and in being caught possibly jeopardized my entire operation. It was a foolish thing to do." Polly thought about it, her eyes flitting upward as if to study the sharp bangs so neatly framing her white face. "Well, I suppose he can give his consent now, can't he? Without knowing everything? A sort of general consent to place himself in my hands?" Gulliver nodded. "Yes, that could be arranged." Terri pinched a swatch of his wife's sleeve, his whisper intense. "Maybe we should talk about this." Polly plinked him lightly on the nose with her index finger and whispered with a smile, "Should we go home? I can cancel our marriage contract now, if you prefer." Terri boiled, but his tongue was reluctant. "That's not fair and you know it." "I'm not trying to be fair, Sweetheart. You had your adventure and now I want mine." "But I didn't-I didn't-it was-" "Terri, Dear, you've been gallivanting around the universe for years, hosting free lunches and lap dances all on your company credit while I was buried up to my collarbone in mud and dirt and swamp water and I've never complained. Have I?" "But-but that's your job! You chose that career." "Yes, and now I've chosen to take an interest in your career. You found yourself all girly and tingling with desires and exploding with climaxes while I stayed home and fretted about our futures together. I just want a little of what you had." "But-but... why don't we just go to the domes and-and-" "And what? Be ourselves, only somewhere else? No, I want to experience the things you experienced, Darling. I want to see what you were like in your little female body all quivering and helpless and desperate, just like you described. And you described it so wonderfully, so completely. I could see the effect it had on you." "But-but-" "You'll do this for me, won't you? Give me this gift? I've asked for so little in our time together." Terri felt his brain skipping like a pirated viral program. "I don't-I don't-I don't-" A contract hovered over Gulliver's desk, waiting patiently for two corneal scans. Polly kissed her husband lightly on the lips and whispered, "You had a secret fantasy that neither of us knew about. You got to explore it. You explored it so deeply you were changed forever by it. I'm not complaining. It made you more caring, more loving, more empathetic. I have a secret desire, too. All I'm asking is for you to trust me and help me enjoy what I've dreamt about my entire life, but was too afraid to ever ask for." Terri shook his head. "That-that-that doesn't make any sense." Polly blinked and waited patiently. He turned his head and noticed Gulliver pretending to be deaf. After a moment, Terri gazed long and hard at the document and let it pick up his retinal pattern. Polly signed the document in the same fashion and waved her husband out of the room. "Thank you, Darling. Now scoot. Mr. Gulliver and I have a lot to discuss." Shuffling, stunned, speechless, Terri found himself outside of the room in seconds, his future firmly out of his hands. # # # Terri had bags beneath his eyes. It was obvious he hadn't slept a wink. Polly smiled at him and met him with a kiss at the door to the jump room. He intended to give her a peck, but she deepened it and insinuated her young, clone body into his embrace. He wasn't sure quite how she did that, but in any body she was gifted. "Nervous?" she whispered. He stuttered, eyeing the jump chair. "Ah, well, you know, uh...." Her slender fingers pressed against his chin, turning his face down to her. She'd chosen a taller body, but apparently so had he. "Trust me." She watched his throat bob. He nodded. As they walked to the jump chair, he asked, "Where's-where's the other, uh-" "They're going to jump you straight into the dome." "Which one?" Her lips parted, but she caught herself. "That would be telling." The two blonde travel agents swarmed around him, disrobing him, cooing with their plastic smiles like two cheerleaders with degrees in sentient physics. One patted the seat while the other rushed around to an interface. There was a gentle ominous hum from somewhere, and coincidently the ambient music arose while the walls faded to a soothing pastel. Anything to keep the client calm. Terri had no doubt they'd charged the air with mild sedatives. That old familiar cycling of inaudible tones were chiming again as well. He could feel them, even if he couldn't hear them. He did feel calmer, more eager to "go along". It was impossible to fight, even when you knew the mechanics. He was on his back, covered in a thin white sheet, the cushion cold for a mere nano-second before it sensed the galvanic activity of his skin and warmed. As always, he felt coddled, relaxed, ready for a long nap on a couch. It was the womb environment, he remembered reading. An atmosphere that struck deeply embedded subconscious chords in the mind from infancy. Before he knew it, he was drifting, then there was the sensation of great speed, but no body, the sensation of blinding light, but no throbbing eyes. Then his body went cold and numb around him, and he felt the familiar sensation of being a mind with no senses like being buried in clay. # # # Terri's vision was blurred. Like a camera lens smeared with oil, light and shadow presented no discernible images. There was pressure. Two pressures, though he could imagine it was on his chest, he couldn't be sure. There was a sweet, female voice asking him questions in a cheery tone. If he was answering, he could not hear it. Finally, her bright, sunny smile became clear hovering strangely above him and upside down. Finally, her words made sense. "Back to sleep for you, Sweety. We have our orders you know." And as he was falling once again into that deep, black never-ending hole, he could just make out or thought he could make out Polly's voice and her parting words. "She came out so cute!" # # # His mouth was full of sand, and his eyes. He spat out the grit and blinked and blinked and blinked, without much success. There was a blinding light, and for a moment he thought he was stuck in mid- transfer, but the penetrating heat convinced him otherwise. A strange creaking and popping caught his attention, and the smell of hot metal. He raised a hand to wipe his face and was struck by a flash of pain. There was gash on his cheek, leaking blood. "What the Hell?" The voice that left his throat was small. The transfer was complete; there was no doubt. He searched for his breasts, but if they were there, they were trapped beneath layers of thick canvas. When he finally cleared his eyes, he saw he was in a uniform of some kind. There was a flag on the sleeve and pockets. Behind him, the jumble of metal, shards of steel and aluminum, were still smoking, still cooling. He smelled a strange pungent aroma and thought it might be fuel. He'd seen something in one of Polly's books, some pre-history, before the U.N. War, maybe during it. It struck a chord then. "... while I was buried up to my collarbone in mud and dirt and swamp water...." He should've guessed her fantasy would have something to do with history. The overpowering heat had him stripping in no time. It took a few minutes to figure out how all the clothing worked. Zippers, buttons, snaps, some kind of black, fuzzy sticky material that wasn't sticky at all. How odd. The jacket came off, the flat heavy pack weighing down his hips, all fell to the sand. He slipped out of the jumpsuit and was met with yet more clothing. It was like peeling an onion. 'You're never finished until it's finished with you.' His old age was catching up with him. That was some saying by Eilke, he thought. He'd always taken great pride in being able to provide those little tidbits of data when people so casually dropped those cliches, but lately, he was having difficulty remembering them. Removing the green military style shirt and pants left him in a small white T-shirt and white panties. He kept his socks and thick boots, because of the hot sand, and made his way to the sharp jumble of metal. It was impossible to tell what kind of vehicle it had been. Polly would probably know, but he sure as hell didn't. He searched for a mirror, a piece of glass, anything to get a look at himself, but came up short. He could see he had a healthy set of breasts. Nothing amazing, nothing to stimulate the fantasies of a ten year old, but they weren't bad. He was extremely white, and his breasts were very soft, the brown areolae littered with small bumps all of which were very sensitive. A simple breeze lit both nipples up, set them to twitching rhythmically. He could take his pulse by them. He felt that indefinable, energetic buzz in his body, that tingle of arousal. Damn, that was quick. Just to be sure, just to be thorough, he checked the white, cotton panties. His bush was unkempt, a thick brown patch. From it, wafted the aroma of his sweat and his femaleness. It made his thighs warm. He found himself licking his lips without knowing why. He touched his face, but could tell nothing except that he had a nose, lips and eyebrows. He had hair, and if it hadn't been colored, if it was the same tint as his bush, then it was brown. It wasn't curly, he could tell that. He stuck his hands into the tangled, sweaty mess and thought it was mostly straight. If it had ever been styled, it was styled no longer. The Sun glinted off something extra shiny from the crashed vehicle. He waded through the sand, marveling at how quickly his boots were filling up with grit, though he was certain they were securely laced. That was interesting, too. People in the past had to tie their shoes on. He laughed, only the laugh was the pretty trill of a young girl. A goddamned giggle. He lifted a piece of what he thought they called glass, and was surprised when an edge sliced right through his finger. He cursed. Loudly. But despite the volume, with his sweet, sunny cheerleader tone, it sounded like a child trying out some adult words. He was pretty. He spotted that right away. Blue eyes, as clear and deep as a tropical ocean, long, lush lashes, plump lips, a nicely shaped face, high cheekbones. He stretched his lips into a smile and immediately spotted the dimples. He wasn't drop-dead gorgeous; he was the girl next door, cute and perky and full of the kind of sex appeal that made a man want to spoil every virginal inch. He nodded and touched the gash in his cheek. The blood had already clotted and was closing the wound, but it still hurt like hell. "Okay, Polly. What now?" What was her fantasy exactly? Should he stay by the crash, wait to be rescued? Was that the smart thing to do? Or should he take off walking? He figured it didn't matter what he did; she and Gulliver were getting their jollies and there was nothing he could do about it. He wrapped the dull green, long sleeve shirt around his head like a turban, found a canteen full of water and trudged up a sand dune. He was only a few feet away before he returned to the crash and found what he thought were sunglasses. No, goggles. That's what they called them. They would at least let keep the sand out of his eyes. His mouth was already parched and he considered the canteen, but decided to ration it. At the top of the first dune he saw the miracle of the domes. In every direction, as far he could see, there was nothing but sand. Occasionally, a gust of wind would whip up a twister, but other than the heat he had nothing to keep him company. He'd walked for a long time, maybe a mile, he couldn't be certain, when he heard a rhythmic patter of some kind. He stood and watched the crest of a nearby dune. After an eternity, the patter becoming a pounding which became a cacophonous thunder, half a dozen figures stood on horseback, gazing down upon him. They wore black robes and black turbans. The only thing visible was their eyes and the dark, swarthy skin surrounding them. He knew he was in trouble then, and wondered if this was what Polly had planned. They rode down and surrounded him. They spoke an unknown foreign language and he suddenly realized how very small he was. He couldn't be more than five feet tall. The leader rode close to him, leaned down, yelled something and struck Terri hard across the face. It sent tears to his eyes. He fell to the sand and burst into sobs. Hormones were so damned powerful, he knew, but they surprised him even still. He laid sprawled out, his creamy white legs splayed in a very unfeminine fashion, his chest heaving, nipples poking through the thin tee shirt, feeling weak and helpless and wanting to call out for Polly or Gulliver or anyone to rescue him. Before he could run or resist, a powerful arm pulled his petite body from the sand and over the lap of the rider. The man kicked the horse in the ribs to get it going and gave Terri a firm slap on his soft, white ass to stop him crying. One action was effective; the other was not. # # # The dungeon, if it could be called that, appeared dank and dark and cold, but it was anything but. A tribute to Gulliver's skill, no doubt. Terri was surrounded by moss-covered stone, his small wrists chained to the wall, but he was remarkably comfortable. The stone was somewhat pliable beneath his ass, and not nearly as cold as he felt it should be. He'd been stripped naked without fanfare, manhandled without passion, not even so much as a grope. The swarthy men tossed his tee-shirt and panties to the side and left him. The wooden door made a grinding sound as it was closed, the lock and the waning boot steps of his captors echoed down the long stone corridor. The torches miraculously burned brighter and he was treated to a view of his prison. He was not alone. A girl was chained nearby, her eyes wrapped with a blindfold, her mouth filled with a large gag. Terri could just make out two feint, thin beams of yellow light, like narrow Sunbeams, emanating from her nipples. "Hello?" The girl squirmed and the thin beams of light brightened and turned red. She squealed behind the gag, panted and moaned, with agony or delight, Terri couldn't tell. Now he saw that the beams of light were not emanating from her nipples, but were emanating from a barely visible orb hovering before her. Slowly, the beam faded to a dull yellow once again. "Polly?" The girl stiffened, but remained motionless. She couldn't move, he realized, or her nipples would received a tortuous treatment. "What in the Hell have you gotten us into?" If it was Polly, she'd changed bodies again. She had a mane of long, voluminous black curls and a body that was curvy and firm and delicious. Even now Terri caught his gaze running down over her broad hips to her thighs, pausing breathlessly at the spot below the taut belly where the thighs met in a smooth hairless crease. The girl moaned as if feeling his eyes. Terri's gaze wandered up to her breasts, soft and white and glistening with sweat, her pink areolae larger than normal, encompassing most of the breast, punctuated by fat nipples that rose and fell as her breath came and went. The girl began to squirm. The beams of light reddened once again, and from somewhere distant, Terri could just make out a feint buzzing. It was coming from between her thighs. She felt his gaze somehow, was responding to it, was being tortured by it. Every squirm turned the soothing yellow beams into red biting vipers of pain, attached to her sensitive nipples and gnawing until she found a way to become still once again. Terri searched in the dark corners of the cell and finally spotted a tiny glint of light. A few quick blinks created a small web of light on the skin of his eyelid. His eyes were being tracked, he realized, and used to stimulate the girl whenever they focused on her. There were probably trackers throughout the cell, perhaps, throughout the dungeon. He considered apologizing, but then thought of Polly trapped and felt the first bristle of desire, like a tickle on his nerves, stimulating him, squirting little shots of adrenaline into his bloodstream. Polly was at his mercy, by her own design, even as he was at the mercy of others. Terri studied her arms and watched goose pimples appear. He placed his gaze on her nipples and watched as they rose sharply, as the breath caught in her throat. The movement brought the beams to life again, red and angry. He laughed to himself and let his gaze dip down between her legs. He stimulated her until her thighs parted involuntarily. The buzzing grew louder. He focused hard on her and heard her muffled moans increase. He chuckled aloud. "Serves you right, you know." He shifted his eyes back and forth until he found the spot that brought her body upright, stiff, back arched, every muscle tensed. He kept her there as long as he could until she collapsed backward, tears pooling beneath the blindfold, collecting, trickling down her cheeks. A tiny spray of clear liquid shot out from her legs and startled Terri. "Shit!" The girl's body quivered and convulsed. She almost seemed in a strange, epileptic trance of some kind. Terri pointed his gaze at her again, ran it down and focused and focused until even the gag couldn't blunt her scream. She squirted the opposing wall and fell backward again. He had to admit he was enjoying this, torturing her. He'd never seen her in such a state. He remembered his time with Gulliver so many months ago and could imagine the intense dazzle of neural pleasure lighting up her brain, sparking firework displays on her closed eyelids. The sound of the lock made both of them flinch. The door swung open with the sound of a grinding wheel and a man appeared. He was lean and muscular with delicate features and dark flashing eyes. His hair was black and lush and pure. "What is your name?" Terri couldn't place the accent. "T-Terri Waites." The man turned and spoke in a foreign language to his subordinate. Two men unchained Terri, twisted his arms painfully behind his back and pulled him to his feet. The man had soft hands. His fingers forced Terri's chin upward, until their eyes met. "You are the pilot who crashed in our desert. You will be questioned." The man's thin lips curled into a grin. "My name is Al-Mahalaman. You understand. Yes?" "Y-yes," Terri replied. He was suddenly conscious of his nakedness. He could feel the heat coming off the man's body in waves, warming his nipples like direct Sunlight. "You may call me Mahal. You will not like me." Mahal clutched a handful of Terri's hair and pulled his head back painfully. Terri heard the echo of his own grunt of displeasure. Mahal placed his palm on Terri's soft, female belly and Terri could feel the intense heat of it on his chilled flesh. Mahal inhaled as his hand glided downward until he held Terri in the palm of his hand. Terri was ashamed to feel how easily Mahal's finger slid inside him, was doubly ashamed to feel the squish of pleasure emanate and spread like heavenly wings up over his tense body. His moan sounded much like the girl's he'd just brought to orgasm mere minutes ago. "But," Mahal concluded, "I will like you... very much." Another command and the two men rushed Terri brutally from the room, down a long stone hall and into a large, warm room, complete with fireplace and mahogany floors. The floors, when Terri found himself thrown down, were not so soft as the stone. # # # Mahal had begun the interrogation by throwing Terri's uniform on the floor in front of him. If it was to strike terror into the Terri's heart, it failed miserably. Mahal circled around behind him and draped his arms over Terri's tender shoulders, his soft, warm hands massaging his breasts gently, bringing Terri's arousal up like a tea kettle on the fire. Terri was acutely aware of the bristle of the man's beard on his soft, female skin. The contrast of the man's dark brown skin against his lily white skin was surreal. Mahal was lean and muscular and swarthy, dark and arrogant and commanding. It made Terri feel softer, malleable, vulnerable, round and timid and nervous. Mahal spoke in a whisper directly into Terri's ear, his strange dialect like extra punctuation. "I know you." Terri swallowed. It's a fantasy, he told himself. Polly had planned all this with Gulliver's help, but she wasn't here. She was locked away in the cell. "You are not who you claim," Mahal continued, brushing a lock of Terri's brown hair from his ear. The simple gesture made him shiver, made gooseflesh trickle down his neck and spine to the small of his back. He became aware of the tightness of his nipples, of his thighs pressed together, of himself leaning further against the man's dark, hot body behind him, drawn to him somehow. "You are a man. Yes?" Terri froze. "Yes," Mahal finished, "a man trapped in this weak, servile body. And you shall serve. You shall learn to serve. You will learn all I teach... or you will die." Terri licked his lips, aware of their supple nature, aware that a girl that looked like him with wet lips only became that much more desirable. He hadn't yet worked out Polly's fantasy. Why wasn't she here? Why didn't she want to witness this? Mahal's dark hand shot down sudden and hard between Terri's thighs. If his fingers had found a desert, a few probes squirmed an oasis out of him in seconds. "You should not have come back," Mahal told him, driving another finger deeper inside him. "Gulliver has placed this mission upon me, to enslave you and your pretty Polly. He knows I can do this for I have proven myself in the past. This is my world your sweet wife unwittingly dropped you and I command all who exist inside it. And you," Mahal's finger pressed against Terri's sweetest spot, sending him spiraling into pleasure, "now exist for me." Mahal left him then, caught in mid-pleasure, in the middle of revving up. It took Terri a few minutes to regain his bearings, to regain his dignity, to close his thighs and cover his breasts. By then Mahal had returned. "You think this is a dome of history. Yes?" Terri's eyes were struck by a glint of light. Mahal held a small metallic sphere in his right hand. "You are mistaken." Mahal activated the device and it levitated from his hand and took up a position a few feet away from Terri, then suddenly faded in color and light until it could barely be seen. Two feint beams of white light shot out and landed on Terri's nipples. Terri moved slightly and his nipples erupted with fire. It took only twice for Terri's body to betray him, to obey the lesson of the sphere. Movement meant pain. Remaining motionless meant a dull hum of pleasure on his nipples. "Ah, but that is just a start. My little devices will retrain your body to move and respond as I wish. Your mind will be helpless to follow. By the end you will be the sweetest slave a Master could ever acquire." Carefully, Mahal inserted something between Terri's thighs. It was cold, but warmed quickly. Terri would've protested had he not so focused on remaining as still as possible. Even then, a slight jostle as an intense buzzing began deep in his cunt caused the sphere to remind him of the lesson of pain. You move; you hurt. "Now, a thing of wonder," Mahal quipped and grinned, his dark eyes suddenly bright. "Kneel." Terri was paralyzed, afraid to move, afraid to feel that searing flash of agony flare across his tender breasts, but the sphere flashed him anyway. His body understood quicker than his mind. Without a thought, he was on his knees. The second lesson of the sphere: obey Mahal's voice. "Follow me. Six paces behind and to the right." Mahal marched off without waiting. The sphere flashed Terri's nipples and he hurried to catch up. # # # He was pampered. It wasn't what he was expecting. Two women with strong, but gentle hands bathed his female body in hot water, sudsy with scented soap. The cloths were coarse and in a few areas a little too rough for his tender girl flesh, but by the time he was helped from the water, he felt thoroughly scrubbed. His raw skin was oiled then and rubbed till the shine sank deep and transformed into a lively sheen. Whether the epilate was in the bath or the oil, he couldn't be sure, but he was now hairless from the neck down. His thatch of brown hair was gone, leaving him no choice but to appear as female. There was no pretending. Mahal sat and smoked a long pipe which emitted a sour odor, but his eyes were glued to Terri, increasing the attention tenfold. That Terri was treated in such a girly way was bad enough without being watched by a man. The slaves brought Terri to a small chair in a booth and almost miraculously began to stimulate the hair follicles in his scalp. In mere minutes, his hair went from a short, boy cut to a long luxuriant mane. They brushed it and brushed it, and with each brush it darkened and lengthened until it was black and silky and lush. His face was sprayed until his features were as enhanced as those of the slaves attending him. Cheeks rouged, lashes thickened, lengthened and curled, lips glossed and reddened, complexion polished smooth, nails shaped and painted. When he was finally allowed to see himself in all his womanly glory, he was stunned. He'd seen himself only through the broken glass he'd fished from the crash, but this girl, this... breathtaking beauty was familiar. He was draped in silk, though it was anything but a dress. It seemed designed to display all his femaleness, his full breasts with rouged nipples, the smooth crease that was the heart of his gender, his soft round ass, all bare. The dress wound around his bare arms and thighs, around his waist in such a way as to accentuate those areas left disclosed. He'd seen this face before, this girl, this girl that was him, made up to perfection. It struck him as the slave girls brought him to their Master, as they presented her to her new master, as Mahal stood and gazed down upon his new acquisition. "I'm... I'm Polly!" Mahal laughed. "Follow." # # # "Do you recognize this room?" Mahal asked. Terri nodded. "It's my... the cell." It was dangerous to think of anything possessively; it would only serve to immerse her further in the artificial world. "The cell where you tortured that poor slave girl?" Terri's eyes went to the empty room. "I... I look just like her." Mahal grasped Terri by the scruff of the neck and brought her closer, his smooth but strong fingers gripping her chin and pointing it upward until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Not like her. You are her." "But that's not possible." "But it must be. You are here. Can you deny what you see, what you feel?" Mahal removed his hands from her, and Terri's body seemed to sink to its knees of its own accord. The sphere was deliberate in its training; her body had learned quickly, and was helpless against the conditioning. "But... where's Polly?" Had something gone horribly wrong? Had she been downloaded into the wrong dome? Had she been hijacked? This couldn't been what Polly and Gulliver had planned. Mahal's laugh was wicked and knowing. A slave handed a blindfold to Mahal. Another slave handed a gag. "Whatsoever you do to another, you do to yourself." Mahal took great pleasure in saying it. Then Terri understood, and almost involuntarily began to shiver. Mahal offered the gag to Terri, who certainly didn't want to take it, but the slightest pulse from the sphere convulsed her arm; it shot out, palms up and waiting for their gift. "I take away your speech for a women wears lips not for speaking, but for serving." Terri shook her head, tears forming, but couldn't hesitate for more than a second. The sphere began to bite her in a way that was going far beyond her sensitive nipples. Her entire body began to burn. She dropped her jaw and fit the gag into place. A slave stepped forward to tighten and secure it. "I take away your sight for a woman's eyes are not for seeing, but for expressing servitude." Terri had no choice. She wanted to run. She wanted to knee the son of a bitch in the balls and make a run, but to where? Into the desert? Out of the dome? There was no "safeword" in the domes. Gulliver's craft had been perfected. The whole point such fantasies for the people wealthy enough to indulge them, was that they felt "real". The sphere began to heat up. Her nipples exploded with fire and she let out a moan of anguish. How did they manage it? All the while she was being punished, her body was being stimulated sexually. She was as turned on by the pain as she was immersed in the agony of the pain itself. Somehow, Gulliver had managed to make feeling bad, feel good. Her arm shot out on its own to take the blindfold. She wrapped it around her eyes and felt nimble fingers tighten and secure it behind her. She was led to the wall and chained. Mahal's lips pressed softly against hers and she exploded with pleasure. The buzzing from between her thighs seemed to roar in her ears now. She squirmed helplessly as he withdrew, her wet, parted lips still inhaling him, the scent of sweet oil and musk and manliness. His hot breath covered her cheeks like an erotic mask and he spoke directly into her ear, the scruff of his beard making her shiver. It was such a reminder of how soft and yielding she had become and how easily he had come to rule over her body and her desire. "I take from you your freedom as you have taken mine." She was left in darkness, without speech, and given strict instructions to remain still, absolutely, terrifying still or be punished by the sphere in ways she had not yet experienced, and didn't want to. The door closed, the grinding of wood on stone, the squawk of the metal hinges filling the room. And then, there was only the pulse of her heartbeat in her ears and the muffled sound of her own breathing. Time quickly lost all meaning. It was punctuated only by the severe punishment of the sphere. Should she move in the slightest, breathe too deeply, wiggle a toe, the sphere lit up the pain circuits of her nipples and began to spread exponentially outward to every nerve of her body. After an eternity, the door opened again and there was the sound of many feet. Already, Terri felt the tears moistening the cloth of the blindfold. A girl yelped and there was the sound of ripping cloth and of chains. When the door had closed and the sound of feet had faded, Terri could hear the whimper and fast huffing breaths of the girl in chains. Then the girl's thin, tremulous voice spoke. "Hello?" The sound was such a shock that Terri squirmed involuntarily. The sphere bit into her nipples and she heard her own muffled moans and felt the squeal of pain vibrating her throat. At the same time, the buzzing deep inside her made contact and waves upon wave of pleasure overwhelmed her until she was lost and floating in euphoria. The girl spoke again, her voice suspicious now. "Polly?" Terri felt her body start to react but tensed until it was frozen. She couldn't move; she had to obey Master's commands or at least her body did. "What in the Hell have you gotten us into?" the girl asked. Terri could feel the girl's gaze now. The cell was making it more than just an intuitive knowledge; it was turning it into erotic caresses. Over her breasts, like warm nibbling fingers sliding down her belly and her hips, switching to her thighs and moving in for a further inspection. The sensation of warm tingling water was upon her breasts, swirling around her thick nipples, swimming in delicious pleasure around her large brown areolae. She squirmed helplessly, the euphoria was too great. The sphere flashed her nipples with intense pain. She screamed and squealed with agony and ecstasy and tried so very hard to force her body back into stillness, but it couldn't be done and the girl was tickling her smooth crevice now, staring at it, rubbing it with her gaze. The cell tracked the girl's focus and translated it to touch. The buzzing deep inside her began to hum alarmingly, carrying her to dizzying heights while the sphere spiked her with pain each and every second. She was beyond thought now; she was a raw nerve, all sensation and no thought. Then she felt a incredible building of pleasure beyond pleasure rising within her. "Serves you right, you know," the girl said, but Terri was barely conscious. Then all the sensation moved to her cunt, pressure and an unbearably ticklish tingling, pins-n-needles killing her as well as driving her to the edge of an orgasm. There was no stopping it now. It rose within her and she collapsed backward, bucking her hips lasciviously like a cheap whore, longing to be touched, fucked, used. Then something erupted from her legs. Not even the gag could muffle her guttural scream now. It sprayed from between her thighs in spurts and splattered against the wall. "Shit!" the girl exclaimed. Terri was stuck in some kind of pleasure loop. She'd lost control of her body. She no longer felt the punishing bite of the sphere or the buzz of pleasure. She was only a shaky, near unconscious array of spasming limbs. Then the girl focused on Terri's cunt once more and Terri could feel it building again. She wanted to plead for release, for redemption, but the gag held tight. Within seconds she could feel another orgasm building. It was too much. It hurt. It felt good. It felt as if she might die. The girl pressed and rubbed until Terri's body tensed. She grunted and another spray shot from her, splattering against the opposing wall. She collapsed back against the wall, unsure where she was or even who she was. Exhausted, trembling, convulsing, her limbs were sore and out of energy. Dimly, Terri could just make out the loud clack of the lock and the sound of the door. Mahal's firm voice had the caliber of God now. Terri's body wanted to obey anything and everything it said, if only to please it, if only to please Him. He spoke to the girl. "What is your name?" Terri passed gratefully into unconsciousness. # # # Terri placed a hand on Polly's leg. Polly turned and smiled. The artificial moon rose over the swamp in their home away from home. Polly had been put to use right away. Gulliver had many more domes to build and had hinted that Polly might be intimately involved in their design. "How did the presentation go?" Terri sighed. "Good, I think. I might have to take the trip though, seal the deal." Polly pouted. "I hate it when you're away." "I bet." "There are such delicious things I want to try with you." He peeled back the wall and watched the crocodiles yawn and roll in the murky water. He curled up behind her and they both felt his member grow, finding its own way up and behind her. She gasped once when he entered her, but quickly found a rhythm. It was a quick fuck, a conventional fuck, a symbolic fuck. If they wanted something more, it was easy enough to arrange. Any dome, any time, any fantasy granted. These days a quick orgasm was all they needed, because they had so much more. They had each other. Their marriage contract had expired months ago, but neither had noticed. Terri squirmed and squealed and milked her husband's dick of every last contraction, every last drop. As usual when she was in her male form, Polly found her eyes drooping fast. Terri cuddled against her, aware of her wife's shrinking member, and of something warm and wet sticky on her thigh. She giggled helplessly and sighed. For a long while there was only silence, then Polly's sleepy voice. "G'night, Sweetheart." His put his dark hand on her husband's breast, enjoying the contrast of their skins. Terri grinned. "G'night, Mahal." THE END