He Be Uncle Genesis
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Switch World: Genesis free porn video
SWITCH WORLD: GENESIS
by BobH
(C) 2005, 2008
***********
Switch World is an 'Open Universe' that anyone is welcome to set stories
in. The first to appear here was:
Many Worlds Inc: Switch World
That's the story that established the universe, and which sets out the
'rules' for it. A careful reading should I hope answer most queries
about how this particular universe functions
***********
-1-
"Do you Kevin promise to love and honour Helen, to take her as your
husband and to bear her children?"
"I do."
"Do you also promise to submit to her will, to defer to her in all
matters, to joyfully obey her secure in the knowledge that only through
accepting mastery over him by a woman may a man know true happiness?"
"I do."
"Then by the power invested in me by His Majesty's Government I now
pronounce you woman and wife. Helen, you may kiss the bride."
Janet Palmer smiled at her camera's small screen, welling with pride as
she watched this videoclip of the all-important moment. Then she killed
the power and turned her attention back to the present.
The groom had just finished her brief round of thanks, then raised her
glass before turning to face her new wife.
"And finally," she said, "I'd like to toast Kevin, my beautiful bride,
who has never looked lovelier than he does today."
"Kevin!" said the assembled wedding guests in unison, and they all
drained their glasses. Kevin smiled, and blushed prettily.
Janet nodded approvingly, well satisfied with how the day was going and
delighted that Kevin had landed a husband like Helen who was strong and
firm and just the sort of woman her flighty, giggly son needed to to
make a man of him, to make him the ideal wife and mother she knew he had
it in him to be. They had met at the Playgirl Club in London, where
Helen was a member and Kevin was working as a bunny. This last was over
the objections of Janet who was not at all happy at the idea of a son of
hers in a job where he was a sex object to be ogled and maybe even pawed
by strange women. She had had visions of him 'graduating' to naked
spreads in 'Playgirl' magazine itself, all tits and hair and lip gloss,
posing on some fur covered chair or bed and pouting at the camera, and
she feared the worst. And yet, it had worked out for the best.
Seeing Kevin now, looking so beautiful in his long white wedding dress,
Janet felt a deep swelling of love and pride for her son. She wistfully
recalled the affectionate little boy who loved pretty dresses and liked
nothing more than playing with his Malibu Bobby doll and wondered where
all the time had gone. Like every other little boy, Kevin had dreamed of
being a princess and of having a handsome prince come along on her horse
and sweep him off his feet. In Helen he had found his prince. Or, more
precisely, his lord.
The Right Honourable Sir Helen Mountfitchet-Stansted was the eldest
daughter of Lord Stansted, and when the old girl died Helen would
inherit her title and Kevin would become Lady Stansted. The wedding
ceremony had taken place in the chapel in the grounds of Stansted Manor,
and this reception was being held in its Great Hall. The guest list was
a Who's Who of the great and the good, including both cabinet ministers
and captains of industry. As was often the case with such rich and
powerful women, many had gorgeous and much younger 'trophy' wives. With
Kevin's fellow bunnies from the club also in attendance, the room
contained some of the most beautiful boys in the country, but Janet
thought he outshone them all.
Gazing beyond her son and new daughter-in-law, Janet studied the others
on the top table, noticing the way the Best Woman was flirting with
John, her son's best friend and Chief Bridesmaid (whose 6 year-old
brother, Tim, was the Flower Boy). John seemed to be enjoying the
attention and Janet smilied, guessing the two of them would slip away
together later.
"This makes it all worthwhile, doesn't it?" said a voice on her other
side. She turned to face Martin, her fiancee, an attractive divorcee she
had started dating a couple of years after her wife had died.
"It certainly does," she said. "If I had any doubts at all, seeing Kevin
so happy has banished them all. He's totally radiant!"
"What boy isn't on his wedding day?" said Martin, a little wistfully.
"From the very first time we see a wedding, we all dream about walking
down the aisle in the big white dress."
"I doubt Paul Curtis did," said Janet.
"No, he definitely didn't," agreed Martin, "but he will. When puberty
kicks in and all those hormones are released, he should turn into a
perfectly normal boy."
"Yes, I suppose," said Janet, somewhat distractedly. Despite her best
efforts, she found her mind drifting back to the events of several days
ago.....
-2-
"So are you coming in?" Martin Adams had said, leaning back against the
doorframe and striking a provocative pose, dark eyes framed by his long
false lashes, painted lips pouting suggestively.
For someone in their early forties, Martin looked pretty good, Janet had
thought, as she ran an appreciative eye over his boyish figure. His
legs were still smooth and shapely, his breasts round and firm. Clad
only in a negligee, garter-belt, stockings, and four inch stilettos, he
was a vision of smouldering sexual promise.
"Just admiring the view," Janet had grinned, putting her arm around
Martin's slender waist and sweeping him into the flat. Spinning him
around, she pulled him to her, kissing him long and deep while
simultaneously fondling his ass with one hand and caressing his breasts
with the other.
"Oooh, that feels good!" gasped Martin, pulling away. "But what we need
is in the bedroom.
While Janet stripped off than strapped on the dildo that was kept in the
bedside table drawer, Martin bent over the bed, his naked rear quivering
and ready for her.
"Hurry up!" he said impatiently, glancing back along his body at her as
she made the final adjustments to the strap-on.
Men! They just couldn't wait to be penetrated, but then that was just
how they were. Wanting to be fucked by a woman, needing to be dominated
by her, was something that was hardwired into their brains.
Janet teased Martin at first, enjoying his groans as she brushed the tip
of the dildo across his eager anus, loving his gasp of surprise and
pleasure when she finally entered him.
"Yes, oh yes!!" he screamed as she fucked him, her powerful hands
gripping his hips, her pelvic thrusts driving the dildo deep into his
pert little bottom. As his little penis became rock hard so she quickly
and expertly slipped a condom over it to catch his jism when she brought
him to orgasm. Not wanting more kids they didn't need it for UVF
fertilization of her eggs and subsequent implantation in Martin - the
way men got pregnant in this world - but it did prevent them making a
mess on Martin's sheets.
The sex was as phenomenal as always - they had the passion and the
energy of a couple half their age - but it was the kissing and cuddling
Janet loved the most, the simple flesh-to-flesh contact with another
human being that she had missed when her wife had died.
Afterwards, watching Martin sitting at his dressing table fixing his
make-up, Janet smiled as she savoured the memory of Martin snuggled up
to her, his breasts pressed against her side, her hand idly caressing
the soft, creamy skin of his thigh.
"So who's this kid you want me to see?" asked Janet, remembering that
sex had not been the only reason Martin had invited her over that
afternoon.
"His name's Paul Curtis," said Martin, shivering with pleasure as Janet
came over and ran her hand through his hair. "He's 12 years old and
highly disturbed."
"In what way?" asked Janet.
"Delusions mixed with gender role confusion," said Martin. "We've seen
that sort of confusion in adults, of course, and we have the British
Institute of Mental Hygeine to deal with the problem, but I've never
encountered delusions like his before. I wish we could find his parents,
but he can't tell us who they are and no one has reported him missing."
Martin was a pediatric nurse, and it was seeing him in his nurse's
uniform during a visit to the hospital for a routine check-up that he
had first caught Janet's eye. Why did they make those uniforms so damned
sexy, anyway?
"I'm not sure what I can do to help," said Janet, "but you know I can't
refuse you anything. You've got me wrapped around your little finger."
"I wish," laughed Martin.
Having finished his make-up, he stood up then and offered his back to
Janet for her to zip-up his dress. This done, he stood in front of a
full length mirror, smoothed down the skirt of the dress, and gave a
small nod of approval.
So it was that a couple of hours later they found themselves in the
pediatric ward of one of the main hospitals in Cambridge. Oh his own, in
a small side ward whose door was kept locked, was Paul Curtis. He was
sitting on his bed, looking dejected, but leapt to his feet when they
entered the room. He was wearing jeans, a sweat shirt, and sandals, and
his shoulder length hair was ratty and unkempt, but he was extremely
pretty. He had the sort of features most men would kill for, with large
blue eyes, a small nose, full lips and heart-shaped face. He would grow
up to be a heartbreaker in a few years, a real beauty, if he started
taking care of his appearance.
"Who's this?" he said, eyeing Janet suspiciously.
"A friend," said Martin, soothingly. "She may be able to help. I'd like
you to tell her what you told me."
"Why not?" shrugged Paul. "It's not as if I've got anything better to
do. Let's see if I can get you to believe me. OK, the first thing you
need to understand is the world wasn't always like this, that men and
women's gender roles have been reversed."
"And when was this change supposed to have taken place?" said Janet,
raising her eyebrows.
"Six days ago."
"I think I'd have remembered something like that," smiled Janet.
"Actually no, you wouldn't," said Paul, "not if all of reality was
altered, all memories and all records."
"And you're the only person on the whole planet who remembers how the
world should be?" said Janet, trying to keep the incredulity out of her
voice. Martin was right. He *was* disturbed.
"Me, and one other," said Paul, "the one responsible for the world being
the way it is now. Look, how about if I start at the beginning? Firstly,
I'm actually 26 years old, a lot uglier, and I'm a quantum physicist.
Some people put me on a par with Stephen Hawking and Albert Einstein."
"Who?" said Janet.
"Oh, that's right," sighed Paul. "Of course you've never heard of them;
no one has. In this version of the world all the scientific discoveries
were made by women. The men here are all bimbos."
Martin bristled a little at this description, but Paul did not notice.
"I was married, y'know," he said. "My wife Liz and I, and Susan Archer
my old college professor, were working on a device that would let you
see into the past. We bought an old barn a few miles from here and built
it in there. The time viewer wasn't actually any one device in the barn
but the entirety of them working together. One day, if we succeeded, it
would be a tight, sleekly designed unit, but at the start it consisted
of the computers, transformers, biomedical monitors, and the like that
took up most of the space. However, if any one of them could truly be
said to lie at the heart of the time viewer it had to be the small
cyclotron and the tachyon accumulator it fed.
"The whole sprawling apparatus was built around an acceleration seat in
which the person taking the trip would be wired up to just about every
type of non-intrusive biomedical monitor, and several of the intrusive
ones, too. Since the traveller didn't physically move during a trip an
acceleration seat wasn't strictly necessary, but we'd spotted it in a
military surplus store and thought it looked cool, so what the hell.
"Liz had built a lot of the equipment in the barn, cobbled it together
from what was often little more than piles of random electronic scrap.
Her electronics know-how saved us thousands of pounds and possibly
several months of work. She wasn't in the same league as Susan and me
when it came to quantum mechanics, but she blew us both out of the water
when it came to computers and electronics. Unfortunately, she hadn't
been as careful checking out one of those Army-surplus generators as she
should've been and when we first tested the time viewer it exploded. Liz
and Susan were next to the generator when it blew. They were both
killed."
He paused then, and Janet watched him with interest. His story was
preposterous, but there were tears welling in his eyes as if he was
remembering the real loss of a loved one.
"Anyway," he sniffled, "that was the end of that project and all I
remember of most of the following year is a world of pain and grief.
Most of it. Amazingly, through my grief, I found myself thinking further
and deeper about the fundamental forces I was wrestling with, and
realizing that with some tinkering I could use the technolgy we'd
developed to tamper with reality itself. I had what you would call an
epiphany, a moment of almost supernatural clarity in which I saw the
basic equations of reality laid out before me. They were terrifyingly
simple and, despite the risks, I knew I had to explore them. What
scientist wouldn't have?"
"If there were really such equations, they would be much too dangerous
to tinker with," said Martin.
"I hired Chris, a brilliant young physicist I'd heard about and who had
just graduated from the university," said Paul, showing no sign he had
heard Martin, "and the two of us set to our task with a passion. It was
weird opening the barn up after a year and dusting off the equipment. As
we replaced the generator, the only thing to have sustained more than
surface damage, I found myself imagining some other timeline in which it
hadn't exploded and Liz and Sue and I had succeeded in getting the time
viewer to work, and considering how different a world with the time
viewer in it might be. It was only a momentary pang, a brief indulgence
of 'what if', but I'd hardly be human if I hadn't wondered about what
might have been.
"Within a few weeks, we had the equipment repaired and reconfigured and
we were ready for the first test. I was strapped into the chair while
Chris monitored the instruments. The changes I imagined while in the
chair and connected to our machines were the ones that would occur in
the real world, so in that first trial I limited myself purely to
changing Sally, the barmaid at our local pub. I imagined her ten years
younger and twenty pounds lighter. Turning the machine off after that
initial test run, Chris and I hurried down to the pub. Sure enough,
Sally was ten years younger and twenty pounds lighter. We noticed the
change, of course, and the photos behind the bar reflected it, but she
and everyone else acted as if she had always been that way."
"Wait," said Janet. "If as you say, you changed the world, and eveyone's
memories adjusted themselves to fit the new reality, how come you'd
remember the old one?"
"The device generates a field roughly the size of the barn that
preserves the memories of anyone inside when it's activated. So Chris
and I remembered. A few weeks after the initial test, we were ready to
run another. Chris wanted to be in the chair this time, and so I let
him. We agreed that he would make a similarly small change in the world
so that we could study the effect further. I remember blinking as I
activated the machine. When I opened my eyes, a fraction of a second
later, I was here in this locked ward, I was 12 years old, and the world
was completely transformed. Chris had imagined the world of his dreams,
and my new place in it. I never knew this was his sexual fantasy, a
world of small feminized men and strong, muscular women, but clearly it
was."
"So I'm supposed to buy that a single machine in a converted barn a few
miles from here was powerful enough to transform the whole world?" said
Janet, incredulously.
"Yes," said Paul, absent-minedly twisting a long strand of hair around
his finger, "it really didn't take much power at all. Our single, small
cyclotron and tachyon generator were all that was needed. It's like
throwing a small pebble in a placid lake and watching the ripples spread
great distances, or toppling that first domino that sets all the others
tumbling. It's a cascade effect. All it takes is that first push."
"And you're saying this Chris character did this?" said Janet.
"Yes. And he made himself the world's most famous and beautiful singer,
actress and model in the process, the most desired man on the planet. He
has a string of rich and famous lovers, the hunkiest women in Hollywood,
so for him this is a dream come true."
"Wait, you're saying Chris is Chris Neville, is *Keris*?" said Martin in
disbelief. "But he's American! He was born and raised in Austin, Texas.
We've all seen the commercials he did as a child actress, and his
family's home movies of him as a toddler."
"Six days ago those films didn't exist," insisted Paul, "and being
American was obviously part of the new life he imagined for himself.
He's made himself a combination of Claudia Schiffer, Nicole, Kidman, and
Madonna."
"Who?" said Martin.
"Of course," said Paul, giving a humorless chuckle, "you wouldn't have
heard of them either."
"Assuming we believed this frankly incredible story," said Janet, "what
are we supposed to do about it?"
"I've given Nurse Adams the address of the barn," he said, "and I've
given him the combination for the front door lock. What I want is for
you to go there and hit the reset button. It will put the world back the
way it's supposed to be."
Janet stared at Paul for a moment, then nodded to Martin. Once they were
back outside the room, Martin turned to her.
"So what did you make of him?" he asked.
"Well, he's obviously disturbed," she said, "and he has serious gender
role issues. I mean, he wants the world to be a place where the gender
roles are reversed and where a woman was his wife. How close would you
say he is to puberty?"
"From the medical examination he was given it may be only a few weeks
away from it starting."
"Excellent," said Janet. "That should clear up the pretty young dear's
gender confusion. When puberty hits, and their breasts start developing,
and their bodies are awash with powerful hormones, even the roughest of
tomgirls find themselves softening and developing an interest in normal
boyish obsessions like hair care, make-up, dresses, and in making
themselves as pretty and attractive to girls as they can."
"Yes, and the more resistant those tomgirls are before puberty hits the
more giggly and boyish they are afterwards," said Martin, "so that takes
care of itself, but what about all that stuff he said?"
"Delusions, of course," said Janet, "but he was unusually articulate for
his age, and quantum physics isn't something most boys know anything
about or have any interest in let alone something they could use as the
basis for spinning such a yarn. Yes, it's a fascinating tale alright,
but I'm still not quite sure why you wanted me to meet Paul."
"After he told me his story for the first time, I did some checking,"
said Martin. "I found the barn and I dug up who owned it: Keris."
"Keris?" said Janet, puzzled. "Why would he own a converted barn in
Cambridge?"
"Good question," said Janet. "And I suppose the reason you told me this
is because you wanted to see what was in the barn?"
Martin nodded, and Janet sighed. Men! They were less decisive than women
and totally incapable of leading, but this wasn't their fault. No, it
was just a basic part of their psychological make up, part of the
dependency that could sometimes make them seem frail and helpless but
which was also part of their attraction. Of course Martin needed her to
make the decision to go inside the barn, to commit an act that was
technically breaking and entering, needed her to take the lead. So be
it.
The barn was indeed close to the hospital. It proved to be a mere ten
minutes drive away, close to the banks of the River Cam. It sat on a
small hill, at the bottom of which was a water meadow. Sleek boats were
knifing up and down the river beyond as the women of the various
university rowing teams got in some early evening practice.
Janet keyed in the combination Paul Curtis had given them, and was a
little surprised when the front door actually opened. Inside was a
living space consisting of a large bedroom, a small bedroom, a galley-
type kitchen, a bathroom and shower room, and a spacious central lounge
area, all on one floor, with the single large space at ground floor
given over entirely to workspace. The workspace was festooned with all
manner of devices whose purpose she could not even have guessed at and
in the middle of them, exactly as described by Paul, was the RAF surplus
acceleration chair.
"Over here!" said Martin. "I've found it, the reset button!"
Janet went to where he was standing and there, prominently labelled in
the centre of a console, was a large red button marked: RESET.
"If what Paul Curtis said is true, all we need to do is turn the power
on, hit this button, and we change the world," said Martin, a nervous
expression on his face.
"He's certainly been here," said Janet, "no way he could have described
the place or known the door combination if he hadn't. And then there's
the connection to Keris...."
"Perhaps he really is telling the truth," said Martin, reluctantly, "as
fantastic, as impossible as that sounds."
"I can't accept that," said Janet. "This is the world I've known all my
life, and on Saturday my son walks down the aisle on my arm and gets
married to his husband-to-be. Like every other boy there's ever been,
he's dreamed of being a bride since he was a child. Am I supposed to
believe that up until six days ago he had never dreamed any such thing,
that until then he was some sort of rough tomgirl who wanted the woman
to be the wife? No, it's just too much, just too incredible to accept."
"And yet here we are, and here's the button," said Martin. "What do we
do? If we're right and he's deluded, there's no harm in powering up the
machine and hitting reset...."
-3-
"You look gorgeous, you know," said Janet looking down into the
immaculately made-up face of her lover as they danced, breathing in his
perfume.
"Flatterer!" giggled Martin, fluttering his eyelashes and obviously
delighted with the compliment.
He felt good there in her arms, his small body held against hers as they
danced, her fingers tracing the bra strap beneath the soft silk of his
blouse. It felt right, the way things should be, the way they were
*meant* to be.
"We did the right thing, you know," said Martin, looking at her with
concern, as if sensing her thoughts.
"It was absurd," said Janet. "Who would believe anyone who told them
that reality as they knew it was fake, that a lifetime's experience,
every memory they had, was less than a week old? Who could ever accept
such a thing?"
"And yet we set fire to the barn," said Martin, softly. "We destroyed
it, and everything in it."
"We couldn't take the chance he was telling the truth, however small,"
said Janet. "Our memories are who we are, and this world is the only way
we've ever known it. Why would we want it to change it for that
perverted world Paul Curtis described?"
"That wasn't why the only reason you didn't want to take a chance on the
machine being genuine though, was it?"
"No," admitted Janet, looking across to where her son was dancing with
his husband, still in his wedding dress, his pretty features suffused
with love as he gazed up adoringly into Helen's face, "it wasn't. I
remember Kevin as a sweet little boy who loved playing with his dolls
and dressing in pretty clothes. I remember him giggling with his friends
when they played dress-up and getting enormous crushes on the handsome
members of the latest girlband. I remember the alarming sums he ran up
on my credit card shopping for new clothes and make-up as he followed
the latest fashions. I remember how excited he was the first time a girl
asked him out on a date, and all the hours of effort that went into
getting ready for it. I love my son as he is, as the happy, normal boy
I've always known. In expecting us to change the world, Paul Curtis was
asking me to wipe all that away, to make it so that my son as I'd known
and loved him had never existed, to make him someone else. I couldn't do
that. I doubt many parents could, or would want to."
"And Paul Curtis...."
"...is a sad and confused child who in a few short months will be a
normal and happy teenage boy who loves wearing pretty dresses and make-
up and who dreams of the day some strapping girl will make him her wife.
Hell, he's pretty enough to follow Keris into modelling, if he wants."
"So I guess everything worked out OK," said Martin.
"Everything worked out for the best, yes," said Janet. "Now let's put
this all behind us, forget about Paul Curtis, and enjoy ourselves."
With that Janet kissed him long and deep, taking Martin's breath away.
"As the old cliche goes, this is the first day of the rest of our lives,
"said Janet, "and I intend to spend them all with you."
And they danced the night away 'til morning.
The End.
****************************
Note:
This correction/update came about when I reread the tale recently and
noticed an embarrassing number of places where I'd messed up gender
pronouns, as well as some other errors. And since I was altering these,
I also rewrote a few sections I felt could be improved.
At one point in this story, Paul Curtis wonders what might have happened
if his partners in the time viewer project had not been killed. If you
were wondering the same, wonder no more. That tale, which includes a lot
of extra background on Paul, is told in my story:
Window On The Past
available here on fictionmania. I had planned on doing a number of
variations on the story, each resulting in a different outcome -it is
about quantum mechanics, after all - and that story and this form the
first two of a sequence I've been thinking of as 'The Many Fates of Paul
Curtis'. Strangely, these will almost all involve TG in some fashion.
What are the chances, eh?
Bree
- 06.06.2022
- 6
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