Clinical Trials And Tribulations free porn video

All mammal embryos in early gestation are female. This is an established fact of biology. Regardless of genus and species, EVERY mammal from Aardvarks to Zebras is female BY definition until a specific male developmental hormonal catalyst is added to make them develop as a male. Even in an adult human male, there are vestigial traits of the female. Nipples and continued estrogen production being just two of them. The diagnosed condition of Gynecomastia Also known derisively as 'Bitch tits', is common enough so that it bears witness to the persistent female in every man. Even in the case of worldwide births, women far outnumber men on average in terms of babies born. It is simply that throughout most of the world disease, poverty and war conspire to kill most of the babies born before their fifth birthday. Every indication that I observed in the human animal is that masculinity and maleness is, at best a patina, a veneer a thin veil covering the natural female. I gathered more evidence in my investigations of the transgender and transsexual community. The number of male to female far outweighs the percentages of female to male. Overwhelmingly the human body is and in many cases WANTS to be female. This was true even when I explored psychology and conducted studies of the phenomenon of transvestitism and cross-dressing; men dressing in woman's clothing FAR outnumber women dressing in men's clothes. Even the term "Dressing in drag" means for most people, men dressing up as women. Even in Children, there are a solid identified percentage of boys who "Play dress-up" with their mother's clothes, but how many girls statistically dress up as males for playtime? Masculinity and maleness is, at best a needed aberration, a necessary defect, as far as the body is concerned. Even over the course of a human lifetime, vital and active maleness is fighting an at best uphill and losing battle, succumbing to flaccid impotence and latent homosexuality in many cases by a man's late forties. In addition, in the case of that lifetime, women overwhelmingly have a longer one than men, outliving their own husbands in many cases. These were the conclusions that led me, as a scientist a biologist and an endocrinologist and a medical doctor, to embark on my greatest scientific quest. To see if it could be possible to strip away that mask of manhood, restore the body to the reflexive, and default femininity it spent a lifetime trying to restore. It would not be easy, but if possible, it would grant me an eternal legacy as the man who destroyed the tyranny of the phallus, the stupid destructive male urge to penetrate, conquer, destroy, and possess, the one single thing that I felt was leading us straight to our doom. The key of course was the creation of an intelligent retrovirus that would search out the recessive maternal genetic markers and restore them to dominance. This in tandem with the secondary component of the virus that would restore the 'gestation' phase of the genome long enough to allow it to rewrite itself and reform the body as needed. Twenty-three of the body's chromosome pairs were female; the body was already halfway there. It was just a simple matter of putting the 'male' chroma's in their place, as it were. I had spent years in preliminary development and observation and experimentation and I had already tested the transformative serum on everything from shrews to Chimpanzees. In every case, the metamorphosis was complete. I had even inseminated several posttest subjects and successfully impregnated them. The latter day female animals gave birth to healthy wellborn offspring. Curiously, all offspring born of the transformed was also uniformly female This was an odd phenomenon that bore further study at a later time.. The moment of truth had arrived. The essential question. Could an adult male human being be restored to natural reflexive femininity? Could the freakishness of masculinity be cured? I could not in good conscience risk anyone else's life. Not when the experiment may well kill the subject. Therefore, I prepared a concentrated intravenous Push of the retrovirus and sat in my lab at my family home in the backcountry of Rio Rancho, ready to do the final deed. I was lying naked in the heated lab on my own exam table, strapped down and the solution was already set up. All I had to do was depress the remote plunger in my hand. Once I did that, there would be no turning back. The lab was darkened as much as I could make it and I turned up the heat to 98.6 degrees to simulate the temperature of the womb and I hoped, facilitate the metamorphosis. I looked at the ceiling and then at the mirror on the wall facing me and said, "No more Mister." Then, I pressed the remote plunger. PAIN! The worst and most all encompassing pain I had ever felt, my whole body, my whole being, burned with the worst and most agonizing pain any human could imagine. It did not last long however as my mind turned itself off when my pain receptors simply overloaded and burned out. That was the last thing I remember. I swam in dark dreaming delirium for a period I had no way of measuring. Dreams and in some cases nightmares tested me and passed me back and forth between the shores of unreason. When I came to, I was still lying on that table, in my darkened body temperature-heated lab. My body still a bit sore from the effects of whatever had just happened. I was tired, but no longer in great pain. I released the strap on my left wrist using the catch I had built into it, and raised my hand to release my other wrist and that was when I saw the slender elegant almost dainty hand and forearm. In a rush, I undogged the rest of the straps and by the time, I had done so the visual and other sensory data told me all I needed to know. I did it. In every conceivable way, by every conceivable measure, I was a woman. Even In the low light of the lab I could see that much. I shouted in exultation, "Eureka!" The steady tenor of my voice was gone, replaced by a not unpleasant contralto. Getting up and off the table, I was a bit unsteady on my feet at first, and did not know why. Then I realized, Of course, a lower center of gravity. I was also noticing decreased upper body strength and increased strength in my hips and legs. That was just for openers. Breasts, curves, a drastically altered skeletal structure, specifically in the pelvic region. My pelvic gap would now be wider to accommodate the birth canal. Birth canal, I could now get pregnant I could now give birth. Instead of merely fathering a child, I could now be the abode of life. The wellspring from witch one or even many human beings could be born. Losing the ability to open pickle jars was, in my view a small price to pay. Well, I thought to myself, let us just have a look shall we? I turned up the lights and, blinking at the glare at first, stood to full height and I walked on now much steadier legs with a sure stride over to the full body mirror I had bought for the purpose of body assessment and took a good look at what I had wrought. Dark brown hair, green eyes full breasts a very well shaped body, obviously in the pink of health. There was an amazing look of youth to it. In the face as well. If I had to guess I would have to say, I was most similar to my mother as a young woman, or my baby sister, in her early twenties. Physically, if I had to guess I would say that my body was that of a woman in her early twenties at the most. Experimentally I reached my right hand between my legs moving carefully and gently almost caressingly to my pubic region. I investigated by touch the clitoris, labia majora and Minora, The clitoris was very sensitive to touch under the clitoral hood, as were the lips. Then I moved my hand further under to where the actual opening would be and gently pushed my index finger inward. The labia Minora opened and my finger slid in, touching yielding warm almost hot wetness inside and causing me to feel the most erotic sensation I had ever experienced. I collapsed to my knees. The enormity of what I had achieved finally hit me and pure clinical scientific detachment abandoned me as I kneeled there, staring at the image in the mirror. Boy, young man, man. For my entire life, that is what I had been. He, Him. These were the pronouns affixed to my identity, for sizty years. Now, my whole self was changed, and altered. Clearly, I had a problem. Dr. Marcus Stevenson was the owner of record of the house, the car and the rather prodigious bank account as well as the professor emeritus position at the University of New Mexico, so who in the heck was this young woman crouched naked on her knees in his lab. Well, for one, she was a rather exposed woman, so I put on the robe hanging on the door and the slippers as well, both were a bit big on me, but that was all right for now. Later I would puzzle over the loss of body mass and weight as a part of the transformation. Where did it go? As an elementary postulate, I hypothesized that the extra mass had been consumed to fuel the transformation. This was the most likely explanation I began to be grateful for the day and age in witch I now lived. This was the age of the internet and online banking and internet commerce and the instant debit card, as well as the large amount of things that could be ordered via the same. I could live in my own house and use my own funds for rather a long time before my identity became a serious issue and, in the process even, THAT might have a solution. After all, if some testosterone enraged Al Qaida goofball could forge an identity, then, I could do it in a snap. The next thing I busied myself with, was final, and at this point pro forma clinical verification. Hair, blood and tissue samples as well as a saliva swab and a fingernail clipping while I was at it. This took several hours, but when I was finished, I had the necessary level of data verification. Physically, for all intents and purposes I was a clone of my mother. All influence of my father's genome was gone. Even the standard paternal blood type, type "A negative". Now I was Type "RH negative". A very rare and royal blood type indeed. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in rather mundane tasks, a shower, dressing in a t-shirt and sweat pants, and having a meal. My appetite was rather large. This was typical given that if I remembered right; Mom had been hypoglycemic, always having to keep sweets and junk food in the house that we weren't allowed to touch because it was for her "Condition." In the shower, overcome by irony, I could not help singing Bobby Darrin's "Walk like a man". I also could not help masturbating myself to orgasm, overcome by the sensuality of the shower. After I dried off and dressed for bed. I thought about my next moves. I would need clothes, an entirely new wardrobe. I would also need outside verification of my work; luckily, I had kept complete notes every step of the way. My formula, my "Cure for masculinity" could be easily reproduced now that I knew how. I also had one other definitive means of verification. The film I had taken of the actual transformation. I had set the lab surveillance to film a twelve hour period and that would cover the time of my male to female metamorphosis. I removed the DVD from the DVD-ROM drive, placed it in the DVD player, and watched the section covering my transition. That section was about six to eight hours long, from unconsciousness to completion of metamorphosis. It was more grisly, graphic, and disturbing than a Hammer Horror film, but the video documentation was vital. Not just in proving my experiment worked, but in proving my own identity in the long run. The next morning I awoke late, at first thinking I had dreamed all of yesterday and last night. Then I blearily sat up and rubbed my chin, feeling nothing but baby soft smoothness and I felt two larger than average breasts shift on my chest as I moved. Then I felt between my legs and felt a purse rather than a sword. The song that sprang from my lips during my morning shower was, "I am woman, hear me roar" That was when the only possible downside made itself known as, afterward; I sat on the toilet to pee. Then I wiped front to rear to clean up, Once again, a small price to pay. The greatest advantage to no longer having a cock and balls was that I would never again find myself trying to think with them. I was grateful for my thirty years of marriage, because thanks to living with my wife for all of that time I now knew all of the tricks of the trade to being female. How to dress, how to manage personal hygiene, and even possibly how to apply makeup. My Wife, Abbie had always said she liked me because I wasn't the typical male chauvinist jerk, that it was almost as if I were part woman myself. I had been a 'Sensitive nineties guy' way back in the sixties. I was in the middle of breakfast, when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door to see, my best friend in the world, Dr. Edward "Fast Eddie" Williams. Former roommate, in the freshman dorm, former frat brother at Delta Sigma Nu and Former Tent Mate in the U.S.Army Medical Corps. He and I had been lifelong friends and were now the same very late middle age, though he was enjoying his more He looked at me and the total lack of recognition in his voice was obvious. "Oh, Hello, I was looking for Dr. Stevenson, is he here?" "No, Marcus is having me house sit for him he's joined Drs without Borders and I'm living here while her serves his year. He bought it. For the rest of the evening I discovered just how Charming old "Fast Eddie the dirty doctor" could really be. We talked about everything we both had in common, music, movies, the fact that we both could not stand television, politics, health issues; I let Eddie hold forth on his disgust for the modern American private healthcare system while I enthusiastically agreed. He told me I was the smartest and most discerning young woman he had met in a long time. I had to admit that Eddie really was a great guy, funny, nice, caring and decent. And he ended up charming me straight into my own bed. That was the most overwhelming all encompassing and incredible sexual experience I had ever had. I could not believe that there was any woman on Earth that would seriously think sex was bad and still be in her right mind. Now, lying in bed after that, I did a lot of thinking. Why did I do that, why did I do it so readily? Was I gay, what was the deal there? I thought about it and realized that for most of our friendship I had loved Eddie in a strong platonic sense. When I first met him I had a serious man-crush on him and aspired to be like him, that was until I realized what a 'man-ho' he was. The next morning when he finally pressed me for my name I told him it was 'Cleo' The night before I had cannily neglected to introduce myself, and instead relied on Eddie's penchant for endearing pet names. I pretended to be my own sister, whom Eddie had never met, (By my own design, no way did I want "The dirty Doctor" ravaging my little sister.) at breakfast and we very nearly wound up having a second go' round before he realized he had to be at work. That evening as I was finishing my notes and writing the final touch ups on "Clinical process of Pharmaceutical gender reassignment: Male to Female by Dr. Marcus Stevenson PhD. M.D. Professor Emeritus," When the phone rang. A woman's voice I did not know was practically screaming into my ear. "I'm going to kill you, you bitch, you witch, you, you, sorceress, you demoness, you succubus, what the hell did you do to me?!!! You're going to die, I'm coming over right now to blow your brains out, you bitch!!!!" That was when Eddie's Ferrari slammed into my fence and an insane Red headed woman in her early twenties in a man's bathrobe with it open and everything hanging out tossed aside the Cell phone and stormed up to my porch and started banging on the door with both fists screaming, "LET ME IN SO I CAN KILL YOU, YOU BITCH YOU FUCKING HARPIE! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME????" She didn't have a gun with witch to "Blow my brains out" so I could only conclude that, either she was an escapee from the local laughing academy who had escaped and stolen Eddie's car, or, No. No way, I could not POSSIBLY Have been that stupid. I prepared a syringe of heavy sedative, then, I opened the door and let her pass me on her rampage into the house, tagging her in the ass as she passed. She collapsed onto the couch in three steps. I then used the period of respite granted by her unconscious state to go over my notes with a fine toothed comb and I discovered my mistake. The long chain molecules and bio strains I had used were the same as those found in several sexually transmitted diseases. I had chosen them because of their ability to alter the genetic code of the subject, but perhaps my use of a "Shortcut" wasn't all that bright. I was still on my computer going over my data to see if I could possibly have been in error, but no. I was not. That was when I heard the woman rouse and walk into the lab, because I had left the door open. She looked at me and told me in a groggy voice, "Marcus, what the hell did you do, what is going on, and why are we both chicks?" Eddie Williams had never been even close to stupid and Dr. Edward Williams was a brilliant doctor as well as a first rate technical surgeon bordering on the level of a maestro. I turned and told him everything, my theory, my experimental work, my observations and my belief in the inherent destructive nature of masculinity. "Why have we had so many wars, why is everything all about Conquest, why does every "Peaceful prophet" in the western world end up with their face on WAR BANNERS, why has the western world been in the midst of this raging grasping conquest and acquisition orgy for 1,000 years? "I don't know, Marcus, why do you think it has?" the question was obviously a loaded gun pointed at my premise, but I answered it anyway. "It is because of the male urge. It is all because of the primal need of inherent maleness to penetrate, to subjugate, to conquer, and to destroy. Nearly every weapon ever made looks like a gigantic penis for Pete's sake. Spears, swords, arrows guns, missiles, rockets, you name it. Because the overpowering male urge can only think of three things, to do with anything in the world, eat it, fuck it, or kill it, and if it doesn't stop, then humanity is done for. There is no engineering or practical need for any modern weapon to be an elongated cylinder, but there it is, over and over, penises on parade!" "Is that why you screwed me and turned me into a woman?" "Hey wait, a minute, you screwed me, Eddie, and I didn't know that would happen. " Oh, right, Marc, you practically fell on your back when I came in, I've seen hookers that were a tougher lay. Face it, you're a slutburger. But quit dodging the question, How did this HAPPEN?" "Well, Eddie, as near as I can figure, right here, to facilitate genetic rehabilitation I used these long chain molecules to cause reformation." Dr. Williams looked at the screen and said, "Marc, you dippy schmuck, those are the viral transmission markers for the three most virulent sexual diseases known to man. Do you have any idea what you've done?" "Well, I admit this is bad, but seriously, how bad could it be?" "Right now it's passed by sexual contact, any man either one of us sleeps with will be turned into a woman, and then any man THEY sleep with and any man THEY sleep with, yadda, yadda, yadda. And while so far, it's just you and me, and neither one of us is queer, at least I didn't think you were," Then he, or rather she got a pained look on her face as she remembered our bouncy mattress fun of the night before, and said, "And I don't want to THINK about that. Look right now it's contained but what happens if YOU turn queer again and screw some other poor stupid clown, or what if this thing goes airborne?" "Umm, Eddie, we're both women, now, if we sleep with men we're straight as arrows." "I said I didn't want to think about it, I told you! Look I remember you back in college reading those books and going to those women's studies classes and schmoozing with the feminists, your 'feminine side' might have broken loose and eaten your brain, but speak for yourself, leave me OUT OF IT!" Except for me getting "big Jim and the twins' back, I'm in on that. Then poor Eddie stormed out of the lab and went to the living room to sit on the couch. I found her there, lying on the couch hours later still in her bathrobe and nothing else, curled up in the fetal position and sobbing quietly to herself. Dr. Edward Williams M.D. PhD Chief of Surgery at Presbyterian Hospital had just reached her limit on ability to cope. Stick a fork in her. she was done. I had the time to think at that point. Why did I do this, what was the point? The point was my life. I had spent my whole life bearing witness to racism, greed, poverty, religious oppression, aggressive war, religious crusades political pogroms. To top it all off, in the modern day, Economic imperialism, and environmental plundering, as Corporations run by men gleefully spent their time pooping where they ate. I was sick of it, and I was pretty sure the rest of the world was sick of it too, but where had it started? It started back in prehistory, when the first female dominated tribes were attacked, suborned, subverted, and destroyed by MALE nomads. Female societies ruled by balance and temperance wiped out by the Phallus patrol. All the time the same crap, 'Gimme, Gimme, Gimme, take, take, take, kill, kill, kill, and why? Because all the boys had been spending the lion's share of human history hitting people over the head with their dicks. That is why I did it. I thought if you get rid of the dicks you got rid of the problem. After a while, I sat down and listened to her mumbling to herself as she hugged her legs to her chest. "My job, my house, my membership at the club, All gone, what am I gonna do, I'm not Edward Williams anymore, I'm just some crazy woman off the street, I oughta be locked up, not given a scalpel and allowed to operate on people." When she started repeating herself I brushed a lock of hair away from her face, gave it a few more minutes, then smacked her one, right across the kisser as hard as I could. She sat bolt upright and demanded to know, "What the Fuck, Marc?" "There's a war on, Eddie, self pity is being strictly rationed. Now we can curl up, give up, and die, or we can make a plan. What's it gonna be?" "Door number two, I guess." Good, I had gotten through to her and got her thinking again, excellent. Now we could make a plan. "Good, now, let's get you dressed I think I have some sweats around here you can wear, for now." Step one, I.D's, now in a bygone day that would have meant back alleys, dirty deals, and sleazy counterfeiters, but in the information age, all it would take is some selective manipulation of data. And where that was concerned only one thing mattered. Money and I had gobs of that. I could do me easily, but Eddie would be a little tougher. That meant we would need help and that meant my sister, Cleopatra Stevenson. (Our mother had been a HUGE fan of that ONE play by Shakespeare, Marc Anthony, and Cleopatra; it may well have been the only play she ever read.) Dad had been the brains of that marriage. That gave me a sudden and sharp darting fear in my gut. If I was a clone of my mother, what did that mean for my I.Q? what if I was going to start getting dumber because I would suddenly get my brains from mom? Then I remembered, Mom's deficit in brainpower was caused by upbringing and environment followed by DECADES of television, pulp romances and tabloids. She had dumbed herself down. I was in the clear. I sent Cleopatra an urgent E-mail asking her to come over and informing her of, not just my work, but also my successful experiment. Just for good measure to make things easier I patched in a ZIP file of my transformation on video. I sure hoped that would work. Eddie had already watched it and remarked, "Not bad, Marcus, as always you are the most scrupulous lab doctor I've ever met, the KING of comprehensive documentation. You have three way film, papers, computer models, viral samples, duplicates of your serum, the whole nine yards. In addition, once you take my blood work and compare it to yours, post therapy, proving whom I am will be a snap. "So you'll get to keep your job, then?" "Well, I doubt that. The board of the hospital is never going to let a woman in her early twenties serve as chief of thoracic surgery regardless of WHO she used to be. But, on the positive side, I'll get to keep my house and all my stuff and my money and even my club membership, so I won't be a homeless waif. What's more, I'll probably be able to ride your coat tails and be assured of an income from all the queers who want you to turn them into women." I stood up and told him, "I really wish you wouldn't talk like that, you KNOW how I feel about this issue, Eddie" "And you know how I feel about perfectly healthy men with nothing wrong with them having themselves surgically mutilated so that they can PRETEND to be female." "They are NOT perfectly healthy; their minds are badly out of synch with their bodies. Their minds are women but their bodies are male, and this reduces them to total dysfunctionality." "Oh, Panther Piss, Marc' that's a lot of new age, wannabe pervert hogwash, a woman's mind in a man's body, you have to be kidding me, Marc' you can't tell me that you, a learned man, a physician a Medical Doctor, actually buys that load of peanut butter." Eddie and I had gone 'round and 'round about this issue several times. He wasn't homophobic or anything, he just has serious issues with surgical transgenders, primarily based on his adherence to the Hippocratic Oath. "The number one rule with the human body is, If it aint broke, DON'T FIX IT!, You know that, Marc, or at least I thought you did I've heard you go off on plastic surgery more than once and we agree, or at least we used to." "What makes you think I don't still agree, at least for the most part?" "Because you created this, Marc' this disaster waiting to happen this obscene formula, this emasculating elixir of doom you've manufactured." "I swear, Eddie, if you don't stop over reacting, I'm going to have to slap you again, seriously." Eddie sat down and seemed to take on a very serious tone as she asked me, "Has it ever occurred to you how easily this could be reengineered into an airborne virus, and once that had been done what a grand chemical weapon it would make.? Release it over a major population center and watch the fun as every man in it is either turned into a woman or killed by the shock of metamorphosis.." "I think it would be a lot harder to do that then you think, Eddie, I mean if it was THAT easy, why hasn't anyone done that with the AIDS virus?" "Fair point, Marc' all I'm saying is, think of the ramifications of what you've done, of what this is, this isn't the plot device to a Sci Fi sex romp or a quirky romantic comedy, this is something that could fundamentally alter gender relations, politics, social norms, hell, Marc' this could rock the western world to it's foundations." "Well maybe it needs rocking, did you ever think of that?" "No, because unlike you, I am not a compulsive 'change-for-its-own-sake' boat rocker. " I thought about what she said and then I thought about what I had inadvertently done to my best friend in the world. I had taken away his gender, the very core of his identity and that was all on me, It was up to me to make it right somehow. The problem was I had no idea how to do that, and I had a very bad feeling that her body, post treatment would resist any and every attempt on my part to restore her masculinity. "Eddie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen, I didn't know. I promise, I'll do everything I can to make this right, to fix you and put things right for you." "well, I'm glad to hear you say that, Marc' I really am, now that having been said do you have any idea where to begin?" No Eddie I don't all my work was devoted to reversing masculinity, not inducing it. I spent ten years figuring out how to undo the male. It never occurred to me to make a serum that might induce it." "Great, Marc' that's just great. Well I tell you what, you better start figuring it out, because I don't want this, I don't WANT to be a woman, I LIKED myself just as I was. SO you better figure out how to fix this mess, I don't care how long it takes you." Eddie, I'm sorry, I didn't intend this, I didn't mean to damage you this way, I'm sorry. At that point, I stood up from my chair and then darned near fell over as I grew faint, Eddie stood and helped me stay upright as he took me to the local Wal-mart in town and paid cash for a diabetic blood testing meter and pack of strips. He knew about my mother and had suspected about my biological similarity to her. After testing my blood, I got a reading of 49-blood glucose. Eddie looked at me and said wryly, "Congratulations, you are now the woman everyone wants dead, a knockout that has to pig out on junk food and candy just to stay alive." This even as I was chewing my way through the king sized Milky Way bar she bought me. As I chewed the caramel and nougat, I was chewing over something else, my new lifestyle. Four meals a day, augmented by a series of snacks and frequent blood monitoring, add that to the vitamin pills I would have to take because vegetables would be for me, just empty bulk. I could eat them, but they would only clean me out and drop my blood sugar like a brick. Everyone thinks of this kind of thing as a boon some kind of grand prize, but the facts of the case are that I would have to spend a prodigious amount of time by comparison eating, and would not have the luxury to skip meals for the sake of time or work. Add to that, eating normally healthy foods could actually be bad for me and I would need vitamin supplements to get me the nutrients I would normally get from healthy foods. I would need red meat, high carbohydrates, high sugars, and heavy fats. If I did not get them, my metabolism would crash, and I could very well die. At the very least, I could be at risk for frequent hypoglycemic blackouts. Not only would I NOT gain additional weight, but it could become difficult, if I was not careful to keep the weight I had. Scary. That was a problem, but not my most pressing one. My immediate problem was the fact that I had no clothes, nothing. My drawers, my closets my whole wardrobe was full of men's clothes, men's underwear, men's accoutrements and those were of an old man at best. Trying to wear them would be a bad joke. I left Eddie alone to go upstairs and have a hard look at what I had. I wound up having to go up to the attic of the house. When I got there, I found my wife's old clothes. Dresses, pants suits, underthings and shoes and make up. There was no way I would be able to bring myself to wear them. To me, those were HER clothes, and they always would be, and I would never be able to stand another woman wearing them, not even if the other woman was I. I remembered the way Abbey had died, Cancer, A lingering death that would have broken us if I had not been so well off. I remember what it was like to have to watch her wasting away, and I knew I could never use HER things as an expedient when they were all that was left of her. I went back downstairs and wordlessly began going online and ordering women's clothing. Simple utilitarian good quality clothes that, I hoped would last me as long as they had to. Eddie looked at me and saw me tearing up. She put a hand on my shoulder and told me, I had to stop and I cancelled the orders, because I suddenly realized how silly it was to order clothes by mail when I didn't even know my own sizes or tastes. I would have to go out into the big world and buy these things myself. "I know you went upstairs to the attic. You looked at Abby's clothes, didn't you? Marc' it's O.K. Abby was a good woman, heck she was a GREAT woman, you were lucky to have her for as long as ," "Eddie if you finish that sentence I'm going to knock your tits in the dirt." "O.K., no Chick Flick Moments, gotcha." Abby was a sore point with us because Eddie had once been in love with her, heck for all I know he never stopped loving her, even when I married her. He kept it cool and never did anything untoward. He was always a good friend, but I knew, and so did she. Heck in a less puritanical and more sane society, Eddie might have been my co-husband, with her. All three of us had always been close like family. Eddie and I finally had to take our happy little debit cards down to the local bank of clothing stores and do what we had to do. At that, Eddie still refused and adamantly stayed home. You go ahead and play dress up if you want to, Marc, I am staying here. At least for now. Underwear, shoes, clothes. I already planned to spend the rest of my life as a woman, so I would shop accordingly. Eddie on the other hand had no intention of being a woman any longer than she had to and clearly resented the time she WOULD have to spend in the 'ladies'' section. As much as I wanted to throw myself into the spirit as it were, my own upbringing and hidebound reflexes got in the way. I just could not help feeling as if I were some kind of pervert standing there in the ladies' underwear section of the local Kohl's department store looking over and handling bras and panties. Every once in a while, I caught a look at myself in the mirrors interspersed around the department and started at my own reflection. I STILL wasn't used to miss twenty two year old button nose page boy cut brown haired cute stuff, and having it be MY reflection. Finally, I got the poop scared out of me when a perky, college age sales clerk said solicitously, "Can I help you, Ma'am?" Son of a--why don't these children warn you? "Oh, Uh yeah, Uh I was just looking for some uh, well see, uh my clothes, they all were lost, in a fire and uh,...." I felt like an idiot standing there sounding like a side player in a drag show. "Oh, yes, ma'am of course. I think we can help you, why don't we start you off with some nice Hanes her way, I wear them myself. I'm Brooke, by the way, What's your name, Miss?" "Stevenson, but you can call me Marcia." Then she hugged me and giggled and said "Super Marcia, now let's have some fun!" At first, I blanched when she embraced me, but then I remembered how 'touchy-feely' women tended to be among themselves. I spent the rest of the day being pulled from one spot to another on that floor buying a complete wardrobe from the skin out, before I even knew what was happening, Brooke had me at the makeup counter getting me all Estee Laudered up and handing me a bag full of really pricey cosmetics. I had been sucked in. Late that afternoon I had them deliver the packages to the house and I went to go find Eddie. I was dressed in a VERY nice Donna Karin suit that probably cost me three bills easy, and I found the poor sucker in the clothing section of Wal-Mart across town, she trashed the suspension on her Ferrari barreling into my yard and nearly driving up onto my porch. Therefore, she had to take a bus on change and bought walking around clothes in a thrift store. "Hey, Eddie, What happened, where'd you run off to." She looked around confused and looked at me saying, "Lady, are you talking to,--"then recognition dawned and she exclaimed, "Judas Priest Marc' what the hell happened to you, you look like a friggen first lady. What the heck happened to your hair, your face, what the heck are you wearing?" "I'm wearing what women wear, Eddie, and the ladies at the Kohl's did my face and my hair." "Dear god, you've turned into a raving queer." No, Eddie, I'm a woman, and guess what, so are you, now come on, we're going to go and we're going to get you fixed up. Your womanhood may be temporary, but for crying out loud the least you can do is try and look decent, honestly, look at yourself." "What, what's wrong with how I look, it's not as if I'm wearing a gunny sack." Eddie, you look like the mother from the Partridge family. Except for your hair, your hair looks like the crazy lady with the blanket who walks around Central avenue Come on, Sparky; let's get you looking at least halfway decent, Mm'kay?" I can be VERY charismatic when I want to be, yes, very charismatic indeed. There we were Back at Kohl's facing Brooke and her little friends. I put a hand on Eddie's shoulder and said, cavalierly, "Brooke, Cindy, Libby, This is Edie, and she needs a lot of help. I think we ought to give her The Treatment." They looked at Eddie and each one of them got a look on their face like unto how they would look if someone had taken a dump in their mouth. Then, they remember the three grand I spent earlier in the day. In addition, there was the fact that we looked about their age, we were NOT tough on the eyes, and what girl in their class and social circle DOESN'T like using a REAL live woman to play dress up and make up and hairstyle games on, especially when these babies actually knew their stuff. They hit Eddie as if they were on a military operation. I had already been in on it as the center of attention, but it was quite another matter to see from the outside. In a strange way, it was kind of, as if I was watching football... part of me wished I had popcorn and a beer. When Eddie was finished getting the crap pampered out of her, she looked great, hair coifed, face very tastefully made up a VERY stylish skirt suit nylons and matching heels and understated earrings and pendant setting off a nice cr?me colored blouse. During both shopping sprees, the sales girls had been happy to send someone to the food court for me when I complained of hunger. With the commissions they were getting I didn't wonder. On the way back to my place in my car, Eddie and I had a talk. I laid it on the line about how unlikely a cure was, and how long it would probably take me even if it WAS possible. "Ten years, I'm going to have to be a woman for ten YEARS?" "Maybe longer, I don't know, my formula is aggressive and it IS a retrovirus, plus it may have mutated, by now as a result of contacting your body. In fact, I'm almost sure it has, because it would have had to in order to transform you." She was looking down at her lap and I could tell she was thinking about what was, or rather what was NO LONGER there, as she said, choked up. "Marcus, you stupid irresponsible perverted bitch, I ought to kill you for this, but I need you to undo it." "Eddie, I'm sorry, I--" "Marcus," She said audibly choking up and close to tears, "If you apologize to me one more time, I swear I'm going to LOSE IT!" Eddie then demanded that I take her home, and when I looked worried, she told me, "Relax, I'm not going to off myself or anything as stupid as that, I'm just going to get drunk, watch some porn and some sports and go to bed." "O.K. Eddie, you let me know if you need anything, you've got my cell, you know." Eddie got out of the car and leaned in long enough to tell me, "No Offense Marcus, but I don't want to hear from you until you've got a cure for this, this thing you did to me. You can have your sister bring me my new I.D. bona fides." The next morning, Cleo finally got in from the East Coast and showed up on my doorstep. She knocked at the door several times, until I woke up and slipped on a robe and slippers and came to answer it. The look of shock and surprise didn't last long as she recognized the young woman from the film I sent her. She came in and told me, "Well Marcky--" I always did hate it when she called me that, it made me sound like I was perpetually five years old. Cleo just did it because that was what Mom used to call me and Sis picked up on it. "You really did it, didn't you? well come on, let's see it." "I'm sorry, let's see what" "The bod, come on let's have off with that robe, I want to see this. I shrugged and let the robe fall, but I was wearing a silk top and tap pants and she demanded, "Come on, Sis, no one here but us girls, let's see the whole show." Did I forget to mention that Cleo was a dyed in the wool lesbian? Relenting I pulled the top off and laid it on the couch arm and pushed the tap pants down to the floor kicking out of them. "Wow, Marcky, if you weren't my brother, or is it sister now?" Cleo was not even hiding the lust in her eyes as she stared at me. I even decided to twirl around once for her benefit. "Oh, gawd dayum, you better get dressed again or I'm not going to care that we're siblings. Dayum. Cleo was not a biologist, an M.D., or even a pharmacist. In fact, she knew jack doodly about the body or how it worked. Her meat was computers, technology, hardware, software, information systems thinking machines, you name it, and if it went beep, she could make it do as she pleased. She got to work on my Computer and networked it to her laptop with the RSK chip and started work on my Identity as "Dr. Marcia Stevenson M.D.." Knowing her it would be airtight, complete with a back-story and even documents retroactive for the past twenty-two years. At my request she did the same for "Dr. Edwina. Williams, M.D.She informed me after spending several hours sweating over the task, "Well ,done and done you will get your passport, your Driver's License, your birth certificate, your Library Card and even your Diplomas from High school to Medical School in about seven to ten business days, now let's talk about what it's going to cost you." "Say what?" "Oh, come on, Sister dear, you know the drill ass gas or grass, no one rides for free." I sighed heavily, but it wasn't as if I could not afford it. "O.K. how much/" "Oh, no, miss, pretty pants, money, I've got, and plenty of it. Money is not what I'm after." I began to get a bad feeling about this. "O.K. if not money, then what, if it's what you're thinking you can forget it, that's just ill," "Relax Prudy McPruderstein, I'm not into incest, despite my earlier jest. No I have an artist friend and I want to take a nice 360 series of pictures of you in you rather splendid all together, so that he can paint you when I get back to New York., O.K.? So you owe me." I hated to admit it, but I DID owe her for this, not just my papers, but Eddie's as well who knew how many laws she had broken with that little favor. In the post 9-11, post Dubya world there were so many supernumerary secret agencies that they were too busy tripping over each other to be able actually catch a genuine criminal. My shoulders slumped and I sighed and told her, "O.K., Cleo, fair enough, I DO owe you. Just say how where and when and I'll do it for you. I have a couple of friends in town, I'll just line up some private studio time, and we'll make it happen, Cap'n." She was actually rubbing her hands together. "And that'll square us?" "Sis, that'll cube us and how, you know it." Great, two complete sets of identity papers for me and my best friend and all it would cost me was any shred of dignity I had left. Super. I spent the next two days trying to crack my own virus' code and find an antidote, and the harder I worked at it the more frustrated I became. I was getting nowhere. Once, my Sister found me collapsed on the floor in a hypoglycemic faint she laid down the law and told me I was to start keeping a stock of food in there, a space fridge and a cupboard of snacks at least. "I guess you're hypoglycemic, now, like mom, was, huhn?" "Yeah, that is about it, as near as I can tell I'm a virtual clone of her. Luckily, she was stupid by negligence, not nature. She COULD have done anything she wanted, but chose to nosedive into upper crust mediocrity." "Well, Marcky, to be fair, she was a child of her generation. She was never raised or taught to have a life." "Yeah, yeah, I know. Still. The woman could have been anything and she wasn't even our mother, in any real sense, we were raised by nannies and tutors and all these other caregivers, teachers and minders that were never related to us." "I know, brother, I know. But isn't it a little weird to bring that up now?" "Yeah, actually, it is, I don't know what made me think of that." Cleo was looking at me oddly, as she said, "I think maybe I do. You turned into a woman forty eight hours ago, Marcus, now, your brain is under the full influence of a woman's body chemistry. Maternal issues and all." I was derisive, "Oh, come on, you don't buy all that stuff about "Woman stuff and nonsense do you?" "No not all of the reactionary nonsense, but there is a documented maternal reflex that all women have that makes us, and now, even you, aware of and sensitive to children and childcare issues." "You said you went to the mall, to get some clothes and things, yes? Well when you were there, did you see any children or teens or parents with their kids?" "Oh, well sure, but I---" I trailed off then because I remember seeing teens and wondering why they weren't in school and seeing kids with candy and junk and thinking how it was bad for them, and seeing kids carrying on doing silly stunts and thinking about how dangerous their behavior was. Before this, I never gave things like that a thought. It never even occurred to me to worry about other people's kids as if they were my own. Even when I had seen small children on the day in question, I remembered thinking how cute they were and wanting some of my own. What was going on with me? "Cleo, what in the world is going on?" "Marc' you were ALREADY pretty keen to woman's issues and issues of children and family, even when you were male, now that's just in full gear. Let's face it, you'll make one hell of a mom, Someday." She was right, my whole life, I had always "Done pretty well" with women because when I spoke to them I REALLY spoke to them and listened to what they had to say, I really cared about their problems. I treated women like people, because they ARE people. It's how I was able to tell off a Vietnamese hooker in fluent Vietnamese in Da Nang when I was an army Doctor at China Beach. It's why I was active in the Women's Lib Movement in the seventies and it was why I pushed to see Roe V. Wade happen when it did. I love women, I respect and have always had HUGE regard for women witch is why I am always mystified at women who allow themselves and their children to be maltreated and abused by total assholes. I have never understood women who describe their ideal man and then run hell for leather AWAY from what they just described and into the arms of a complete jerk. I realized pretty fast that the reason women do this is that they are raised subliminally BY MEN to NOT RESPECT themselves. To think that a loud arrogant abusive prick is what they deserve. The next morning I woke up to the sound of the alarm clock/radio, my third day as a woman. That is when it really hit me as if it were a diamond bullet between my eyes, that I was a woman, and that I would be, for the rest of my life. The rest of my now, lengthened and extended life. I sat there on the potty and I realized for the first time that it wasn't fun-and-games anymore, it wasn't playtime at the drag club anymore. I was a woman. This was the real deal. One day, very soon, I would have my first period, and THAT would be extremely nasty, that was not even the worst of it, either. What had I done to myself? After doing my business and showering, I was staring at myself in the mirror as I scrubbed my teeth and looking around at the bathroom full of men's hygiene gear that was now absolutely no use to me whatsoever. Add to this, there was a host of feminine hygiene supplies I would need, NONE of witch I had. Fun stuff, and while I was on the subject, what was I going to do with closets and bureau drawers full of men's clothes shoes and sundries that would not fit me and were no use at all. A lot of it was some really nice expensive stuff. Goodwill was about to clean up. The suits, the shoes, the watches and cufflinks, the shirts, the high-end underwear, I was a very high profile Dr. and I tended to dress the part. I was, for all intents and purposes, a woman in her early twenties, living in a sixty year old man's house. My other problem was that I WAS a high profile Doctor. WAS, past tense. I knew how to save lives; I was an M.D. and a PhD. of medicine as well as being a Masters in biology and a PhD is endocrinology and internal medicine. Moreover, all of the knowledge was locked in the cranium of an extra from a High School or College movie. As I dressed that morning, I realized I was getting dressed out of the shopping bags and boxes of the stores I had shopped at the day before. My big chore today was going to be cleaning out all of the old man's things and moving 'Marcia's' things into their places. I would also need to buy a lot of things related to taking care of myself, as well as clearing out all of the 'Heart Smart' food, and buy the high carb, high sugar, junk I would be subsisting on for the rest of my life as a hypoglycemic. I put on the set of T-Shirt, Jeans and sneakers; I bought, and started at it after a breakfast of sugary cereal, toast, juice coffee, and milk. (The 'Good nutritious breakfast' Kellogg's was always pushing. I will tell you something else my cereal cupboard now looked as if I had an eight-year-old living in the house. Coco Puffs, Cookie Crisp, Reese's puffs, Golden grahams and several other glucose glories." Then I cleared out my closets, my dresser, my drawers, and my bathroom. Putting everything into cardboard boxes and putting it on the porch. Then, I called Goodwill and found out, they were not going to come and get it, I would have to drive down there and deliver it. O.K., I thought, they do not want it, and so, they do not get it, ARCA WOULD come and get it, so I gave it to them. I then moved all my new stuff into place. Any self respecting natural born woman would take one look at my closets and call me a pauper. I only had four pairs of shoes, seven suits, five pairs of jeans, seven sets of bra and panties, and four sets of panty hose, almost no jewelry. In addition, I had no feminine bathroom gear. The rest of the day was spent back at the Cottonwood Mall shuttling from one store to another with stops at the food court. I remembered from when Abby was alive that she wore a lot and I mean A LOT of underwear. Panties, bras, panty hose, night wear, slips you name it. Then I hit the Wal-mart to buy what I knew I would really need within perhaps a few days or weeks at most. Tampons, panty shields Midol, and dress shields. Then there was jewelry, dresses, blouses, more jeans more shoes. Purses and all the rest of it, it really was endless. I started to think the strip on my debit card was going to melt. I was pretty happy to have over one million dollars in my account with monthly additions from my investments and annuities. I had found the ultimate recession proof stocks, Weapons and military sundries, pharmaceuticals, and industrial packing and processing goods. Heading home in the cab with my purchases in the trunk and on the seat beside me, I was ruminating in the reality of my situation. It was not an experiment, or a lark or a game, it was getting real, and I was a woman. People looked at me different, people evaluated me differently, many men and even some women looked at me in an openly avaricious manner. I did not know if I would ever get used to that. There were many other things I WAS getting used to, namely the higher premium my gender forced me to place on my appearance. A man that let himself go was just a guy, but a woman that did the same, was a slovenly sloppy bitch. There was more, but those were just for openers. I was among other things, coming to terms with my new diet. I would now have to eat the way the Nutrition advisory told everyone to eat fifty years ago. Big Breakfasts, big lunches big dinners, and plenty of snacks. The diet that created a generation of lard-asses would just about keep me even. There were a lot of things I was having to get used to as day three came to a close. Shaving my legs, wearing makeup wearing women's underwear, something that did zilch for me as a man but now was startlingly comfy, given the brands I picked out to wear. One question I had been dodging for the past three days was that of sexuality. I loved my dear departed wife and I still liked women, but I really seemed to enjoy sex with my best friend. Was I heterosexual, or homosexual, or both, or neither? Was it even possible to pin a label on it as if it were a can of peas or a bag of chips? I was thinking about that as I drove over to Eddie's place to go and have a talk with her to possibly patch up our friendship. I got out of the car and walked up to the front door when I noticed it had been busted in. Looking inside I saw the place had been trashed. Entering the house and looking around with a critical eye, I realized that this had been a kidnapping disguised as a robbery. A few things were taken, movies, some small electronics, but nothing close to the 'housecleaning' a real bunch of housebreakers would have subjected the place to. Eddies store of mad money was right in the false book she kept it in right on the top shelf of the bookcase, I had to reach up on my tip toes to get it. Over two grand in cash right there, untouched. She was gone, lifted out of here by real pros. Any standard detective would call it a robbery and leave it at that, but it was not. Someone took her, but who, and more worrisome, WHY? Calling the police was right out, there would just be too many questions I could not answer, and I had enough of those. I would have to solve this on my own hook. I just hoped to goodness that I would receive a ransom note from the kidnappers. I wasn't sure witch thought scared me more, the idea that I would hear from them, or the thought that I would not. The first meant they wanted something and given what had gone on over the past three days, I had a bad feeling what it was. The second meant that she was most likely already dead. An old friend of mine once asked me, what kind of writing paid the most money ,and I had jokingly told him, "Ransom Notes." I sincerely hoped that if the kidnappers called, that all they would want was money. I drove home, my mind awhirl with the grim possibilities, when I reached home there was a car in my driveway, and when I went inside there were men in my house. I cautiously entered my living room and found a man I did not know looking at my transformation video on my DVD player. When I entered, he turned it off and looked at me. His expression was jovial as he told me, "Well, Dr. Stevenson, you've really done something here, haven't you? Total body transformation at the cellular genetic level. Total body rebuilding; tell me Doctor do you have any idea what this thing really is?" "Why don't you clue me in, Mr...." "Oh, call me, Brick, as in the Brick that will be thrown through your life if you fail to cooperate." "What have you done with Eddie?" "Oh, you're a quick one, aren't you, Dr. Quick as a wink. Dr. Williams is in fine health, and she is being well treated, just confined for the moment. We're not holding her for ransom or anything as barbaric as that, her life is in no danger, but we can't have her walking around, now can we, not when she is one of two gender bending typhoid maries." I could sense that there were two people behind me, using my peripheral vision I could see they were both wearing full haz-mat suits. Oh, crap These two coke machines with heads grabbed me and literally carried me out to the medical isolation truck that pulled up while we were talking. My attempts to get out of their grasp were worse than useless. I was now in the bag. They got me in the truck and strapped me down to the gurney, then as the truck drove, they put the gurney in an oxygen bag and effectively closed me into a hermetically sealed bubble. When we got to their lab, witch I had no way of knowing, the location of, they moved my gurney into the building and through several sealed doors All the doors had fully geared up Air Police in full NBC suits guarding them. That told me the where, The Air Force base, probably Sandia labs, since we had not been traveling long enough to take us out of town. Then they pulled me out of the gurney and literally cut my clothing off me while a saline shower washed me down then they scrubbed at my skin all over with some kind of cleanser, probably iodine wash. At the end of it, I was in a bare white cell wearing a set of white cotton pajamas looking around wondering what was next. I spent the rest of the day and night in that cell trying to figure out what they wanted. I found out the next morning when the 'moon suits' as I started calling them came in and 'invited' me to go with them. I was taken to an exam room more comprehensive than any I had ever seen and once more deprived of clothing as they strapped me down. Then more 'moon suits' stood around the table poking me and prodding me and taking blood and skin and hair samples saying things like. "Chromosomal transformation is complete," "No indication of previous male identity," They put my legs in the table's stirrups and spread me open using a speculum to see what they could see up my hoo-haah, saying, "Fully formed birth canal and mature ovaries and fallopian tubes present, subject seems fully able to mother children.," One of them fiddled with my breasts and my pubic area, apparently just to see what would happen, saying, "Subject shows typical female arousal signs as well as vaginal lubrication from genital excitation," Finally, after hours of that, they dressed me as if I were a Barbie doll back in my white P.J.s and stuck me back in my room. Then they fed me another meal and left me alone. I sat on the recessed bed platform and stewed. I could not recall ever being THIS angry. I was humiliated. I felt completely debased and devalued as a human. To them I was "The subject". They were not even using my name. I felt that I now knew what a rape victim felt. That was what this felt like, total dehumanization, total devaluation, complete objectification. No one talked to me, no one communicated with me, I could not see the daylight, I could not see anything but these four walls. Even when they worked with me, they manipulated me, and talked over and about me, not to me. I was 'The Subject' I was moved around, worked with, used, and experimented on. To them I was never a human being. What did they want with me? Was Eddie here, were they doing this stuff to her, was she somewhere in this complex being used as their lab rat as well? They had my papers, my formulae, my data, and all my proofs, why did they need Eddie and me? They wanted a weapon. They wanted a WEAPON. That was why they needed us; they wanted to find out how to make it MORE communicable. Killing myself wasn't an option, they had Eddie and even if I was dead, they'd still have my body. I spent the next five days as Sandia Lab's life sized Barbie doll before they finally sent someone in to talk to me. They finally realized that it wasn't an aerosol transmitter, so they stopped using the 'moon suits'. After all, of that they sent someone in to actually talk to me, not Mr. Brick, but a rather severe looking woman. She had some goons bring in a table and chair and then set down a coffee and cookie service. She looked at me and said, "Would you like some, Dr. Stevenson, it's quite good." I could hear the streets of Piccadilly in her accent. Not American, but working for Americans, N.S.A. F.B.I. C.I.A.? That was when it clicked, the Central Insanity Agency. They wanted something they could inject into some foreign dictator and turn him into a woman, and since the kinds of dictatorships they would target are brutally misogynistic, that would, at least in theory, bring them down. The idiots probably wanted to turn Kim Jong Il into Kim Jong Ilene. I sat on my bed/bench with my cup of coffee and cookie and this woman told me, "Well, Doctor, you've really done something, haven't you? Tell me, do you like it now that you've found your way into the girl's club? Is it everything you've dreamed?" "Come off it, if you've read my papers, you KNOW why I did it." "Oh, yes, I did read your papers, quite a raging case of projected self loathing you have there, isn't it? 'Men bad, Men Violent, Men destructive and greedy and evil.' Honestly with that mindset I wouldn't have wanted to be one either." "SO you've got me all figured out, do you?" "Indeed I have Dr. Stevenson. We have your full profile. A distant, emotionally barren father, an impotent mother, a brutal domineering tyrant of a grandfather, then your career in the Army as a combat surgeon, seeing all those people blown to bits every day. You must have felt like quite the 'Hawkeye Pierce' figure. To your credit there were quite a few young men who came home from their service because they found themselves on your table, good on you." "Gee, thanks, so if you respect me so much, why use me as a lab rat?" "Because you don't know it, but you and your little Friend Dr. Williams are either the most dangerous people on Earth, or the most vital and important, we are trying to determine witch, right now. If the latter, you need to be protected and looked after, if the former, then you need to be,...dealt with." That did not sound good, no, that did not sound good at all. I thought about what she said and the way she said it and I found the voice to ask, "Alright, so, why are you in here, talking to me?" "Because while your formulae holds great promise it also holds great danger, and if you can help us to determine it's best use, then you will place yourself solidly in the Useful and important column. Now, I will leave you to think about that for a while. And don't worry, you'll both be looked after and cared for until we get your answer, just don't wait too, long, ehh Doctor?" I spent the next week alone except for the daily and, at this point, redundant examinations. At this point, I was convinced that Madame, Mata Hari was actually using them as a kind of psychosexual torture. Having me stripped, manhandled, poked, and prodded seemed to be her way of trying to break me down. Sometimes, she would arrive personally and clinically and dispassionately masturbate me to orgasm. She liked humiliating me that way. This was my line of thought until I heard one of the Doctors say to someone I didn't know, an older man who looked like Peter Cushing, "The subjects are not infectious by aerosol, touch, or any other form of nonsexual contact. Transmission of the Gendermorphic Autonomic Metamorphic Syndrome appears to be by intimate fluid only, Blood, and Vaginal fluid exclusively. In addition, sir, each transformed generates a different strain unique to that person and therefore impervious to any attempted treatment." "So what you are telling me is that even if an antidote to the Alpha strain were to be found, the Beta and Gamma strains in our two pets would be impervious to it." "Yes Sir." "Hmmm very interesting." Then he left and I was dressed and returned to my cell. This was news to me as well, but it made sense. Each transformed victim generated a completely new strain of the virus based on the fact that the virus had to change its own code to be able to initiate metamorphosis. The virus was essentially incurable. I thought at first to equate myself with Albert Swietzer, or Jonas Salk, but now it looked as if I was a great deal closer to Robert Oppenheimer, or Louis Szilard. I created an effectively incura