Delta V Chapter 1
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Delta ModSur free porn video
**Story number two!! I love feedback - let me know whats good and, more
importantly, whats bad. Should it be continued?**
Before I start, let me tell you about something that happened when I was
eighteen. It won't take long and it'll hopefully explain some other
stuff.
We'd just finished school, me and some friends, and we were going to
spend a week in Middle Earth. It was one of those "immersive AR
experiences", you know the type - you get hooked up to a computer and
then you get downloaded into a virtual world. Take on a new body, and
live the character. This one was based on an old book that pretty much
started the whole orcs, elves, dwarves fantasy thing. We were going to
be a group trying to destroy this ring for various reasons I won't go in
to.
Anyway, we all got hooked up, injected, etc. It went black for a moment
and we when we could see again we were in a fabulous elven home. We came
down in front of a mirror so we could see our new bodies and clearly
something had gone wrong. I was meant to be a dwarf, instead I was a - I
found out later - barmaid. Busty Tavern Wench #4723 to be precise. Some
people see these type of game as little more than a sex thing and ignore
the plot so there are apparently loads of eye candy characters there to
be used and abused. It didn't last long - a voice in my head said "It's
happened again Steve", it went black and then next thing I knew I was
looking at Gimli, Dwarven Warrior, in the mirror. We got some money off,
my friends made fun of me about it and we eventually threw the ring into
the volcano and destroyed the evil wizard. All good fun.
But that stayed with me. What if I'd had to spend the whole week as a
girl? And been kidnapped? And raped? Obviously rape is awful, don't
get me wrong, but there was something a little thrilling about it. Over
the years this progressed and progressed, I developed a whole host of
fantasies for my, well, let's call it my "special alone time" where I was
an increasingly naked hot girl 'forced' to have a whole load of sex.
What if the evil Corsairs had captured me and carried me off to their
ship? That was a favourite.
I'm not gay. I had girlfriends, had sex, enjoyed it, checked out girls.
All of that. But those were the fantasies I kept returning to. I would
probably have done something about it - booked myself into one of those
worlds on my own for a week or something (it was just the embarrassment
that stopped me to be honest. Sure none of my friends would know but all
the computer techs and whatnot would. I know I'd never see them again
but, you know...) - anyway, I would probably have done something about it
if a routine blood test at twenty two hadn't shown I was CYHSPX-delta and
I got drafted.
There are a lot of misunderstandings about this, so I just want to
digress and try to clear some of them up. People think it's just some
code name for the super-muscled super-warriors who fight on the fringes
of our space against aliens and whatnot. It's not, that's just one use
of it. What it is is a mutation of the CYHSPX gene on the Y-chromosome
that means cells are mutable. When you're an egg, before you're even a
baby, all the cells are the same and they eventually become brains and
muscles and, you know, hearts. The delta mutation means that your cells
can easily be put back in that state and then persuaded to become a
different cell. So, with the correct conditioning, deltas can be
'shaped' into any form. The seven foot tall marines are just the most
common one.
I was delta 100 which means 100 per cent of my cells carried this
mutation. That's the most common, but you can be less. As soon as this
was spotted I was drafted by the Federation and began the psychological
testing to see how my freaky genes could best be used to protect
humanity. As an aside, I remember asking why there were no physical
tests and getting a look from the instructor that suggested I was one
step up, in intellectual terms, from grass. And not a big step. No
physical tests because my body can be transformed into whatever is
needed, oh yeah.
Anyway. Training wasn't that tough. It lasts six months and I was
observed for every second of it, and observed in a depth you wouldn't
believe possible. I had chips in my brain monitoring my thought
patterns, questionnaires on every single thing imaginable, "Scripted
Incident Scenarios" - SISs which is where actors perform various
incidents in front of you: a mugging, a conversation in a bar, anything
and they monitor how you react. You don't know they're actors, or at
least you're not supposed to, but I figured I was pretty good at spotting
them. But it wasn't that bad and it paid better than anything you can
imagine (I don't like to brag but honestly, I am a wealthy wealthy man.)
And then at the end of it all you're called into the Colonel's office and
he tells you what humanity plans to do with you for the next twenty four
years. I stood at attention while Colonel Mackender explained that the
woman to his right was Sofia Parakis from Military Intelligence and the
man on his right was Doctor Chris Gerrit who would be overseeing my
transformation. I saluted. Sofia blushed, the Doctor nodded and the
Colonel returned my salute.
I was to be TempSec EpsEridani Rev Spec. The Federation loves its
acronyms and shortenings and whatnot so let me pick that apart for you.
TempSec is temporary secondment. EpsEridani is the Epsilon Eridani
system. Rev is revenue, spec is Special Operations. In short, I was to
be performing a specialist task for revenue in the Epsilon Eridani system
for a predetermined amount of time. Analyst Parakis - blushing ever more
fiercely and incapable of catching my eye - was to brief me more fully
and he handed over to her.
She was embarrassed and didn't look at me once as she explained that the
single habitable planet in that system - named Simpson after the
astronomer who discovered it - was a Federation world that was in the
process of being taken over by the planetary governor and ruled as his
own private fiefdom. For various bureaucratic reasons I couldn't fully
understand this was a problem for the tax collectors rather than the
military. I was to be seconded over to revenue with the brief that the
governor was to be captured and returned to Earth for trial. There were,
her blushes increased - surely there was no blood anywhere else in her
body now - special reasons I was the most suitable.
The Colonel stepped in. Governor Simpson, no relation, was aware that
the Federation would be seeking his arrest. Several revenue and military
agents had been dispatched and summarily killed. A new approach was
needed and the Intelligence section believed they had found it. He
glanced at Sofia who was sinking lower and lower in her chair before
continuing.
Governor Simpson had created a harem of the most attractive females. His
personal guard had standing instructions to bring the most attractive
straight there. Members of the harem had a lot of access to him and it
was from there this latest attempt would be launched.
He looked me straight in the eye and calmly said "Our psyche tests have
shown your interests and we believe you have the necessary skills and
predilections to thrive in the harem environment until an opportunity
presents itself." Sofia turned away but the two men were calm.
It had never once occurred to me that this would show up. Call me
stupid, call me na?ve, but it hadn't. Despite my fervent prayers the
ground didn't swallow me up, despite every ounce of my will my hand
didn't pull my sidearm and blow my brains out. Instead I just stood and
stared at the man who'd just let me know that he and god knows how many
psyche analysts and whatever knew I liked imagining being a girl and
being fucked.
My mind was spinning. An unknown amount of time as an attractive female
in a harem. Presumably the governor, his guards, whoever had their way
whenever they wanted. Or at least they always did when I'd imagined this
exact scenario. On the other hand though I felt I had to protest. Claim
their analysis was wrong, protect my masculinity. It was this second
that won out and I began firing off questions and protests which the
Colonel answered calmly.
"Why didn't they send an actual female?" None were available, nearby
agents weren't suitable, agents further away were too far away. "Why me?"
As explained, psyche tests had shown my suitability. "You can't make me"
I certainly can under section 2 of the Military Command procedures, which
you have signed, although I hope that won't be necessary. "What if I
refuse?" As mentioned, I have the right to schedule a range of
disciplinary measures but I hope it won't come to that. "You can't order
me to have sex, let alone non-consensual" No one is ordering you to have
sex. The transformation process will increase your strength and some
level of resistance is likely expected from the harem - you will easily
be able to avoid that should you wish. "Find someone else" You are the
most suitable. "I'm not gay." No one has suggested you are. However,
first: you are not ordered to engage in sexual activity, second: you
would be a female so sexual activity would not be homosexual and third:
sexuality is not binary - while gay is the wrong word our tests show you
have given considerable thought to this idea and gained enjoyment from it
(Sofia seemed to gag a little at this point). "I won't do it. I'll go
to the newsvids"
The doctor held up a finger. "If I could cut in Private? I suppose some
level of questioning is normal, but it seems you're not looking for
answers, you're just complaining because you feel you should. To protect
your masculinity. Now, the Colonel and I have read a lot of psyche
reports and you are by no means whatsoever that unusual. The Colonel and
I do not think any less of you. Analyst Parakis appears to, but that is
an issue with Analyst Parakis that I suspect will lead to disciplinary
measures for acting unprofessionally" The Colonel nodded curtly "While
you will be in a harem you will certainly have the capability to avoid
sex if that is what you wish. However, this is a scenario you have
thought about a lot, and wanted to undertake. And you are now trying to
talk your way out of it. I suggest you think carefully about whether or
not you actually do want to do this mission and, if you do, stop letting
some misplaced pride ruin it for you.
Finally, if it is a worry, this mission will be classed as Protected.
That means, in case you have forgotten your security classifications,
that no one will know how it was achieved. In brief, no one will ever
know what happened - we can change you back."
Somehow he both had a point and had totally missed the point. Sure being
in a harem as a plaything for a master was something I had thought about.
(What if I tried to escape and was caught? Would I be sent to the
barracks to "entertain the troops" as a punishment?) But there's a big
difference between idle fantasies and being flat out ordered to do this.
Wasn't there? It sure felt like it. But then, he was right when he said
I was trying to talk my way out of something I wanted to do. Then, aha!
I thought I saw a way of protecting my reputation (against what I still
couldn't tell you. My secret was pretty clearly out and I'm sure they
had page after page written by specialists on it.) I arranged my face
into what I hoped was a suitably unwilling expression and said,
"If this is a direct order, Sir, then I suppose I have no choice."
The colonel nodded sagely, spotting what I was doing. "It is an order.
Your personal preferences have no bearing, Private. This is your
assignment. Collect your personal effects and report to docking bay..." he
glanced down at the papers in front of him "...three for briefing."
I wasn't surprised by the speed. Gyagykgo and all. That's Get Your
Assignment, Get Your Kit, Go for the civilians out there, it's a saying
in the military. I'd been prepared by it and everything I owned was
already packed in two regulation kit bags on my bed; I was down in the
docking bay and talking to the doctor and a new Intelligence operative
within half an hour. The new Int guy seemed to be frantically trying to
catch up, I reckon Sofia had been hurriedly shuttled off this case and
new guy placed in.
The transformation was to be performed on the two week trek to the
dispatch centre in the Barnard's Star system. I'd be in an induced coma
for all of that, which was necessary for the procedure to work, so I'd
never see the interim changes. Just wake up in a new body. They weren't
going to change my internal, you know, plumbing. Apparently, which I
didn't realise, changing internal organs was very difficult and as there
was no need for me to become pregnant or anything like that then it was
decided there was no need. I was also going to have hair extensions
grafted in - Dr Gerritt and I had a quick conversation about hair colour
and it was agreed I would become a flaming redhead, which was how I'd
always pictured myself .
Anyway. After arriving at Barnard's Star I'd have ten days of training
from a Holly Newman. Holly was a trainer for male to female transsexuals
and would teach me how to move, speak all the rest of it. She wouldn't
know anything about the mission or anything like that, she would just
think I was a 'normal' sex change who was hiring her for instruction.
Apparently she was "very broad minded" and while they both admitted it
would be awkward at first they hoped we'd get on and I'd feel comfortable
asking her for anything.
I'd then travel in a civilian craft to Epsilon Eridani. I'd be
travelling as the wife of another agent who was masquerading as a Solmine
employee and would be trying to infiltrate the governor's entourage as
well. It was believed that even he wouldn't dare mess with a
representative of the inter-system raw materials giant unless he wanted
to find his supplies of practically everything abruptly cut off. There
were other attempts underway as well, and it was gratifying to see I
wasn't the basket carrying all the eggs. We would be boarded and
captured and after that I was on my own.
My head was spinning. I couldn't really gather the mental wherewithal to
ask questions about the assignment. It is perhaps telling though that I
managed to have the conversation about my hair colour, about how
attractive I'd be ("Well, that's part of the purpose, isn't it. You will
be considerably more attractive than average") and whether I'd have the
normal reactions to stimulation ("Indeed. Sensory nerves will be
rerouted so you will experience all the feelings and sensations you would
expect, including in parts of your body you don't, errr, currently
possess.") That was what finally decided me to be honest. If I could
skim over details about safety, food, all of that stuff but still think
about whether or not I'd be hot and if I'd be able to enjoy having sex
then I really must be the right choice, right?
We were shuttled up to the orbiting General Cargo Vessel Nelson, one of
those ships you see all the time: a big sphere with engines stuck on the
back. Nothing fancy about it, just maximum volume for minimum surface
area and absolutely useless in an atmosphere. My brother pilots one of
them, actually, but not for the military. He works for a civilian
haulage firm. He's delta as well, but only delta 11 which is too low for
the military. Anyway. I hadn't been assigned a quarters because I was
going to be in the medbay for the whole trip but it was going to take the
doctors half a day to get set up so I dumped my bags in a medical storage
locker and went for a wander round the ship.
The ship itself was huge but the vast majority of it was cargo bays
filled with kilometre after kilometre of crates and pallets so I ended up
sat in the bar, diner, thing. Enlisted crewmen's one, of course, no way
I'd be allowed anywhere near the officer's mess. I nursed a fruit juice
and watched people while I considered going AWOL. They'd bring me back
of course, but if the mission was time sensitive then I could probably
avoid it. It wasn't, I don't think, a serious plan to be honest. Just
one of those idle thoughts that run through your head as a possible
option. I'll tell you what drove it totally out of my head though.
A girl in a robot operator's uniform was being hit on by two crewmen.
She seemed to be happy enough, don't think I'm the sort of guy who'd
watch her being intimidated and not step in. But yeah, they were buying
her drinks and whatnot and laughing at what were probably rubbish jokes.
What stuck in my head though, what really got me thinking, was that she
wasn't beautiful. I don't mean she was ugly, far from it. She was fine
looking, pretty even. But not a knockout. God this is coming out all
wrong - and if you ever read this unknown Robot Loading Operator First
Class then I am so sorry, this is coming out all wrong. She was a
perfectly good looking girl. I just knew that from everything I'd been
told, I'd be better looking. Objectively I mean: facial symmetry and
waist/hip ratio and all that other stuff that is what people look for
even though they don't know it. I've got myself totally off track here.
What I mean to say is that I knew that, after the modifications, I'd be a
good looking female and that if I sat alone in a bar I'd likely get some
attention. And that thought was amazing. I don't think a lot of girls
realise what its like being a male on the pull. Rejection after
rejection, playing the numbers and spending a fortune on buying drinks.
None of that for me, I'd be able to walk in and have my pick. The
thought was... the thought was amazing. I left the rest of my drink and
headed down to the med bay early, I ended up sat on the floor outside the
door for like two hours before they let me in.
They did eventually let me in though, seeming not at all surprised that
I was sat outside waiting. Doctor Gerritt started the (and here's a
brilliant piece of Federation obfuscation) started the StatBree 472-A
(DMAPA) A delta Modsur. It's a beauty isn't it. StatBree is short for
Statutory Briefing, meaning its required by law - section 472-A of the
DMAPA (Delta Moderation and Preparation Act) in this case. A means
'ante' which is latin for before, it's the same A in AM. Why they can't
say pre is beyond me. Maybe its better that ante and post have different
initials? I dunno. Anyway, delta Modsur is Modification Surgery on a
delta. So basically it's the chat they have to have with you prior to the
surgery. I knew most of it anyway from training. They'd put me in an
induced coma as it's the only safe way. Bit by bit samples would be
taken from my body, modified in the lab to what was needed, bonded to a
virus, and injected back into me. There would also be a host of non
delta Modsur. Sorry, now I'm doing it. Non delta Modsur is modification
surgery that can be done on anyone. It's easier and cheaper, for
example, shortening my vocal cords through surgery than through genetics.
Same with hair colour.
What that meant for me is that I'd take my clothes off, lay down and
close my eyes. When I opened them again two weeks would have passed and
my body would have changed. I just nodded along with the briefing - they
have to give it by law but there's no law saying I have to particularly
pay attention. I was anxious to get on with it but the doctor seemed
intent on dragging it out as long as possible. He kept asking, in about
a million different ways, whether there was anything I wanted to do
before the operation? Any relief I wanted? I could do it myself or
someone could be arranged? I kept saying no and...and I've literally just
worked out what he was talking about as I wrote that. Seven years and
I've only just cottoned on. He was asking if I wanted a farewell, errr,
a farewell masturbate wasn't he? Then when I said no he was asking if I
wanted him to contact a prostitute. Damn, how could I not have caught on
there? I'd probably have gone for it if I'd realised. Ah well.
I eventually convinced him that I didn't though, and he must have thought
I was an absolute idiot. But he eventually gave up asking and I signed
the forms that gave the Federation the right to do whatever they felt
like with my body without reading them. Standard forms anyway, I'd had
them gone through clause by clause in training.
He smiled professionally at me and told me he would excuse himself and I
should disrobe and lay on the bed behind me with my eyes closed. A gas
would circulate in the room and may smell unusual but I shouldn't worry,
just breathe normally. He stressed that there was no video recording in
the room and the gas wouldn't be released until the bed sensors showed I
was laid down. Giving me one more chance at a farewell one off the wrist
which I once again totally failed to pick up on. I was half undressed
before he even left the room and laid on my back with my eyes closed
moments after. There was an unusual smell, he was right.
**Truth be told, I've actually started writing the next bit anyway. So
its not such much a "Should It Be Continued" as a "Do You Want To Read
The Continuation." Hope you enjoyed, even though theres no actual
transformation (so far. Don't want to ruin the next section, but
*Spoilers* there will be.)**
Charlize
- 05.08.2022
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