To Boldly Go.... free porn video

To Boldly Go.... Synopsis: The most dangerous jobs in space could only be done by men, brave men. Some would say the bravest of men. No one knowing what these men have gone through would deny them that praise. Most would shudder thinking about their sacrifice because for those men to do what they do they must first give up being men. Players: John Franks AKA Mary Elisabeth an MBSE or Modified Biological Space Engineer; Susan Day, MBSE-TMS or Transitional Management Specialist acting as John's Trainer; Other Senior Trainers (TMS) for the MBSE or Modified Biological Space Engineer Graduating Group Ten (in alphabetical order) are; Grace Manchester, Trainer for Brandon, AKA Brenda; Helen Masters, Trainer for Allen AKA Alice; Jill Addison, Trainer for Steven, AKA Sandy. Mary's best friend; Marge Lehman, Trainer for Jerry, AKA Joan; Melissa Patterson, Trainer for Bobby, AKA Barbie; Shirley Macon, Trainer for Terry, AKA Tracy; Lieutenant Libby Sanders, John's first sexual encounter on board the Targaryen Dragon. Additional Players: Janet Berger, MBSE supervisor for Group Ten; Sergeant Hazel Bedford, Boot Camp Drill Instructor. Lieutenant Libby Sanders, Targaryen Dragon ship crew member who also became John's first sexual encounter with a Gulliver. Index (use control F to jump) Breakfast At Tiffany's John Franks Recruitment Processing A Little Girls World virgasim John Meets Mary A Little Girl's Life Sleep Over Boot Camp Targaryen Dragon First Contact Turning Point Story: ------ Breakfast At Tiffany's ------ Susan was the only one with a "newborn" so she was the focus of everyone's attention when she sat for their monthly gathering. It had been weeks of classes since she was free for tea and that was reason enough for those warm affectionate greetings and hugs. It was also a happy occasion for the other "mothers" to be free of their charges for a little R&R. It wasn't that they didn't love their consignees, they did, but a little time for themselves was essential. Crucial that down time, what there was of it, and it was cherished. Susan ordered tea, another ordered coffee, a soda across the way, another and a few just water as the waiter went around the table. Drinks ordered they all began looking over their menus. There was chatter, always chatter. Catch up, news, funny stories - anything to shed the last bits of distance. It was small talk mostly with a few giving a quick version of their own status and life in general. It wasn't going to last, that small talk, never did as each slowly calmed their own news, views, and excitement to give Susan her moment. There were so few that a newborn was always news. "Well," Grace began questioning and directing a look at Susan with a wide smile. Grace was the most senior of the ladies sitting there and the longest in the program. Everyone deferred to her those questions that often came up and there were always questions. The most important question first, not always the obvious but always asked. Everyone was silent and looking at Susan after Grace posed it. "He's gone through the worse of it, so how's the rest of it?" Grace asked. You could hear a diaper pin drop through the silence. Susan, smiling, shook her head slowly as she said, "honestly I don't know which is hardest? Getting them into their adorable little dresses that first time, or getting them to wear anything else once they've been dressed as pretty little girls. And God help you moving past a mirror!" There was a snicker at first, then another, laughter began, building around the table and more than a few knowing nods. If there was ever going to be a saying etched in stone, it would be that one about the mirror. "It's so true," a woman said between fits of laughter. "Tell me about it! Boys are much worse than girls when it comes to fusing over dresses," one woman said. "No comparison," another added. "Not even close," said another with a knowing nod. "Pictures?" a woman sitting nearby asked and Susan brought out the most recent of her's while everyone else started bringing out theirs. An assortment of wallets and small photo albums appeared. Some started scrolling through their phones. Everyone had pictures, everyone shared. "Oh my stars! She is adorable! Where in Heaven's name did you get that dress?" Jane asked. She was sitting next to Susan and the first to see Susan's "new" little girl. "Believe it or not, my mother! She absolutely refuses to believe he is... or rather she was male, let alone a young man before the program. She made it for him in that very first week he stayed with us. So she could show her off. Honestly she is utterly convinced he's a little girl, and nothing I'm going to say is going to change that," Susan said with a touch of pride in her voice. "My mother was the same way," Rose noted as her own pictures came out and once she gave him a bath and saw "her" there was no way she would believe otherwise." "So was mine," Janet said as she asked, "What's her girl name?" "Mary Elisabeth, after my own grandmother," Susan said happily. The others did the same with their pictures, and each as proud as the next. Mothers and daughters one would guess as each shared their successes. In a way they were those mothers, but clearly not since all of those little girls were all men once. Turning men into little girls was actually their specialty. A remarkable group of women for a remarkable group of men. Those men the very best of the best and those women most of the reasons for those successes. Only the bravest men dare do this and finding them was almost as hard as changing them from men to little girls. But first they had to find them. ----- John Franks ----- John Franks woke slowly, purposefully slow, checking first how much light was shining past his curtains, then his clock. A game he played with himself each morning guessing the time before confirming it, and never off more than fifteen or twenty minutes of his guess before he checked the actual time. John always had time as he rose to start his day. It was Monday. Monday meant four hours slinging burgers in double two hour shifts with one collage class of four hours between those two burger shifts. John hated Mondays almost as much as Tuesday, Wednesday and the other four days. "That's him," Agent Mark Black said nudging his partner Tracy Evans alert as they sat sipping coffee. They had arrived an hour before John was scheduled to leave his dorm and he was easy to spot. "Tiny! Doesn't look anywhere near adult," Tracy noted. Agent Black nodded. "Thankfully they never do," Agent Blank noted. John walked to work unless it was too cold or raining. He couldn't afford a car let alone the modifications needed to drive one. Most would guess a little boy on his way to school. A look John perfected and found beneficial. His look created less questioning after so many curios looks growing up. Size notwithstanding he looked very much like a little boy. Agent Black and Evans stepped out of their car and looked around. Both moved easily from the car. "John Franks?" Agent Black asked as he moved to intercept John. Agent Evans had moved around from the other side of the car to stand behind John, but did so casually. These first meetings were always somewhat delicate. "Yes," John said looking at the man. That man, in a business suit knew John's name. Odd. Even so, John did not sense any immediate threat. He was curious though as he suddenly caught sight of the woman behind and to his left. She was looking at John so she had to be with the man - government. "May we talk with you. Perhaps over a Danish and coffee?" Agent Black asked. "What about and how do you know my name?" John asked. "I'm Special Agent Mark Black and this is Special Agent Tracy Evans and we're with Space Corps," Agent Black said as he showed John his badge. "Space Crops?" John asked with a little skepticism in his voice. There were rumors. Wild rumors but only rumors. The Crops was looking for, and perhaps recruiting small people - little people, John mused. John hadn't paid much attention to those rumors till now. "Not interested," John said. Space Crops... More like Space Corpse given the losses on the news of late. The last skirmish was out by the belt and Space Corpse lost a ship during that one, and John's next thought made him smile. He didn't smile over the loss of the ship but the differences between him and the recruiting posters. Space Corps built men, but they couldn't work miracles. "It will only take a moment," Agent Tracy said. "I'm on my way to work," John said. "We can take care of that," Agent Black said. "How's that?" John asked. "John, if you give us a few minutes to talk with us we'll give you the equivalent of six months wages. In cash," Agent Black said as he pulled an envelop from his inside breast pocket. "Wait a second? You'll give me six months pay just to talk with you?" John asked taken back by the offer. Not really that much money to some, but definitely worth his attention as he asked, "So it's what, a voucher?" "Cash," Agent Black said again. "Strings?" John asked. "No strings, just your time," Agent Black said. "Six months wages in cash," John said looking at the envelope. If only that were true he mused. "Cash, and you're welcome to count it first," Agent Black emphasized. "There in that envelope?" John asked. "Like I said, you can count it if you like. Ten minutes of your time and that money is yours," Agent Black said. "Who pays for the Danish and coffee?" John asked. It was a joke. Humor was a good thing. Both agents smiled as John slipped the envelope into his Spider Man back pack after getting a count of the amount. Agent Black promised he would pay. With John in the middle, they looked like a mother, father and child walking into the restaurant. In an office miles away Susan nervously took a chair at the invitation of a program evaluator named Carol. When Susan sat Carol handed her a folder with top secret in two inch red letters across the front. It would be Susan's first look at John. "He looks no older than eight," Susan said as she looked at the latest surveillance photos of John. "That's on purpose," Carol, the program evaluator said as she added, "he does that as a way to cope with his size. He buys clothes meant for kids so he can pass as a kid. Less hassles that way." "Got to be difficult moving around in this world," Susan said taking an immediate liking to the young man she was looking at as she added, "has to be like living in the land of giants." "Not as difficult as you might imagine. He passes easily as a child and if he does things that don't offer any hints that he's not, he mostly gets away with it," Carol noted. "Toddler size four? No, I'd say child size five or six," Susan said more as a statement to herself than as a question. She was estimating John's size. "Size six," Carol said with a satisfying nod at Susan's expertise. "So what's his story?" Susan asked. "Born to a midget mother and normal father, both killed when he was three. Foster care till last year when he turned eighteen. First year at City Collage now, and working part time at a fast food restaurant under a supervised Special Needs work program," Carol said. "A dwarf?" Susan asked. "Actually no, by definition he is a midget. Midgets are perfectly proportioned although abnormally small," Carol said and added, "current politically correct term is little people." "Three feet?" Susan asked. "Just under! He's about thirty inches measured," Carol noted. "Same size as my Patti Play Pal doll when I was a little girl," Susan said as she began imagining John dressed as that doll and of course in a diaper under his dress. "Six inches smaller than our upper limit. Actually, he's nearly perfect," Carol said. "I'll agree with that," Susan said smiling. "Enough to agree to sign-on for this one?" Carol asked. That was her job after John's mental evaluation. Matching John to Susan had been part of Carol's job as well. "Yes," Susan said, paused and added, "Definitely." "I'll need that officially then with your signature at the bottom... page two," Carol said handing Susan a pen. Susan flipped to the second page and signed the consent form as she asked, "So where are we with him?" "He's literally being interviewed as she speak. You'll get him in four weeks. Are you familiar with the processes after that," Carol asked. "I am," Susan said. "He's yours right after that processing," Carol said. "I'll have three months, right?" Susan asked. "Three months. You'll share time with his trainers. Then another six months after his first tour of duty for six months. They go into space on a training ship for a month that first time then on to their assigned ship. On the Job training mostly. After his second six months with you, it becomes six months on, six months off," Carol noted and then added, "Logistics has a house ready for you." "Great. Can't wait to meet her," Susan said as she added, "How does Mary Elisabeth sound as a name?" ----- Recruitment ----- Back at the restaurant. "Recruiting me for what?" John asked with no small amount of surprise in his voice. They had sat, ordered a Danish and coffee for John and another two cups of coffee for themselves. The waitress had looked oddly at the two adults for allowing a little boy that age to drink coffee. 'Going to stunt that boy's growth,' the waitress mused almost silently walking back to the service bar to fix their coffees. John laughed and whispered.... "Too late." John sat for the next thirty minutes growing even more surprised as Agent Black went over the program. Most of it classified he'd been warned, but the best parts had kept John's attention for the better part of an hour. He wanted to pinch himself more than once when Agent Black started off. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollar sign-on bonus, one hundred thousand dollars a year for five years and another two hundred and fifty thousand dollars when he was mustered out after those five years. If that wasn't enough he didn't have to spend a dime in those five years of service. He could, if he chose to, live comfortably on just the government amenities provided by the program. It wasn't until Agent Black started to describe the program that some of the bubble burst. The most dangerous duty in space was also the hardest position to fill and not so much because of the danger, Agent Black noted, but because of size requirements. The danger was also part of the reasons for that money. Some of the risk was working in areas called TATS. TATS, or Total Access Tubes, ran the length and breadth of a space ship. Almost all of the electronics and much of the mechanics were arrayed between the double hulls to give crew more room. It was not too unlike a submarine although much more advanced and far more dangerous. Someone at some point decided that hiring small people and training them as part of a ship's Engineering group would be perfect for such tight places. If you train a small person to work in those spaces you could keep those spaces tight and small. It saved billions, allowing those savings to fund the program easily. John, according to the two agents recruiting him, would be perfect as a MBSE. An MBSE was also considered the elite of the Space Corps and second only to the Special Fighting Forces those ships carried. An MBSE or Modified Biological Space Engineer was really the very heart of a space ship. To say John was interested would have been an understatement. His life, up to now, had not taken off as he had hoped. However, thanks to these two, he now had that hope back. There were some details yet to be discussed and a whole list of questions to be asked, but not until John was evaluated and that evaluation would take a week. There was also a National Security issue and John would need to sign papers before he was told everything. That too would come together in that first week. Moreover, they would pay him another fifty thousand dollars for that week. That was on top of the six months wages in the envelop he'd already earned. If, at the end of their conversation, he decided on a no, he was free to go back to slinging hamburgers. John, happily, did not show up for work that day nor did he have plans for any of the days that followed. Susan, reading John's profile was more than ready for her new charge. 'My Baby Sister Eternally,' Susan said to herself with a smile. That was the other definition for an MBSE. That was the unofficial definition of an MBSE and for good reason. The young men that stepped into that program stepped out fully capable of fixing almost anything on a space ship but all of them looking very much like little dolls - girl dolls. Remarkably, teaching those men to be little girls was what saved most of them their sanity, and that was after a half dozen killed themselves in that first five years of the program. No one knew why until Grace Manchester, one of the most skilled trainers said it, 'They look like little dolls and girl dolls at that. Come on, think about it! Who's going to want to chum, hang out, or date a guy that looks like a little girl doll?' Susan was thinking about that statement as Carol continued talking. "Before we adapted this new program and people like you to the MBSE program there was a thirty five percent suicide rate for these men. Most of the reasons simple because they couldn't cope with what they were once they left the program. Imagine looking like a little doll and trying to live a normal life," Carol said as Susan looked at the image of a naked MBSE. Susan nodded knowingly. If Susan stood her Patti Play Pal doll side by side with an MBSE graduate they would nearly look identical. That waxy, almost artificial shine, those cute adorable faces were clearly no longer men. She tried to imagine her old doll living on the outside, alone, and again she smiled. Susan knew full well the psychological impact she, and others like her, had on these men. Susan also knew that getting paid to turn a cute young man into a pretty little girl was, without a doubt, the best job in the known free world. She let her mind drift back in the day. Of course hiring a professional dominatrix for a man in the service, regardless of the reasons, was not something the service wanted made public. Therefore, when Susan was recruited, and this was nearly a year ago, she came into the program secretly and under the title: MBSE-TMS. Susan was hired on as a Transitional Management Specialist and the second person John would meet when he was passed through four levels of security onto the base. That was four levels of security to get to the main building only. The rest of the site was underground and no one, without access, knew how many levels of security there really were. It would be a one way trip for John once he stepped through those large blast proof doors. It took a long time to decide to sign the papers, but he did. Once John signed the papers, Susan was given the go ahead for his first clothing allowance and that's when Susan called her mother. The program was secret, but you could talk about little girls. Susan told her mother she had joined the "big sister" program and needed to shop for a little girl that she would soon meet. Susan's mother was delighted to help Susan shop and was waiting by the curb when Susan drove up. John knew one thing when he stepped out of his cell like room for breakfast a month later, he was scared and some of it because it was literally his last real meal... forever. ----- Processing ----- You would see the recruiting posters all over the place. "Space Cadets! Only the toughest need apply!" Those posters, everywhere, always showing a nearly perfect guy, or a nearly perfect gal toned to perfection with pure white teeth. Those poster kids the epitome for the right stuff, and wasn't that hilarious. If it wasn't so ironic John might have laughed. Almost all of those like John laughed, albeit sarcastically. They can't help ourselves when they see those posters because in space, as the real old saying goes: "It's actually the little dolls with the real balls", and funnier still, those balls would be some of the first things to go. As another old saying goes, 'In space, no one can hear you giggle!' John had spent days and days being tested, probed, prodded and evaluated. Eleven people, in a meeting without John, but with Susan present, were to give their yea or nay on John making it. John got approval from eleven out of eleven and it would then be up to Susan in not too long a time. John was going to be in desperate need of someone understanding as they walked him down the hall to an elevator that was heavily guarded. Susan would be the one person he could count on before long and Susan was also going to teach John to giggle. Giggling isn't really a requirement, but it comes with the territory, so those men like John have to learn to giggle, but first they were going to make him cry! A lot. That part, that part about crying, was what scared John as the large and so very thick elevator doors hissed open. There was only one other set of doors and those were at the very bottom of a very deep shaft. And that shaft was one way... Down. "Share with me my sorrow and I'll share with you my joys!" That saying was above a long hall as the first hint that things are going to get a little weird as John passed under that sign. The process itself would make the bravest man faint dead away. John was told what to expect, more or less, but it was a kind of reader's digest of the process and far easier to imagine than to live. That digest was a somewhat clinical and boring version that hints it's not going to be all that great, but not all that bad either, although it doesn't come close to what really happens. John had signed the waver, the medical release and that last one, in legal ease, noting John was of sound mind and knew exactly what he was doing should his life come to an end - too soon. John didn't have a clue what to really expect. Had he truly understood, things might have been different, but by the time he realized all of that it was just on the other side of too late. Although John was given more than a few chances to say no but, in the end, he didn't. John really didn't have anywhere else to go. Except now, as those elevator doors opened at the bottom, leaving him straight into isolation. Susan, meanwhile, was tacking color swatches on the wall of John's room in her new base housing. She had chosen a white base with touches of a light mauve for the trim and a very light pastel pink for curtains and carpet. John's furniture, French, slightly provincial but a touch modern in white was trimmed to match that pastel pink. Shear polyester chiffon curtains were tied back with like material fashioned into very large, very pretty soft bows. It would be a cute room and for a girl not too much past the age of six. Pretty, as were the dresses Susan was collecting to go with shoes, socks, panties, slips and everything else a little girl needs to be a prissy little girl. So too those disposable and cloth diapers and plastic vinyl pants if that six year old girl was still wetting herself or her bed. Unfortunately, until John could manipulate his new self, he really would emerge slightly incontinent. It would be an embarrassment for John but those soft cotton diapers under such cute plastic panties delighted Susan. John might see such things as a necessary evil - at first - perhaps. Susan saw them as an opportunity for them to bond. She fused with those longer than necessary as she folded each lovingly to put them away. There were teddy bears and dolls, some in dresses, some in diapers. All were designed to give John a subconscious view of himself when the time came. The process wasn't written in stone, but there was a process born of experience by others before Susan, and Susan knew that process almost as well as she was coming to know John. She looked at the heart shaped clock noting the time. She already knew the day and imagined John within the system.... John would be going into isolation about now, Susan imagined. As it happens, John went into isolation room one first. No physical human contact from this point on he was told as he passed through two seriously thick Lucite doors that hissed closed to seal behind him. This was a one way trip. Although a few hours before that, they nearly killed him with a half dozen doses in shots of whatever kills everything, and not you - barely. John's exam was first, and began right after he stripped down to his birthday suit. Just scans and minor test for the obvious things found in nearly every human. That took two days while the results of his blood gases and chemicals went through their own special testing. Everything John had on went into an incinerator. His only meals and drinks came in Lucite bottles of stuff with colors but without flavors. They also took samples of John's skin. They took samples while his full medical checkup was under way and all of it by robots operated by people John couldn't see. Within a few hours, John's DNA was being introduced into several very special areas. One place in particular after those sample went down a tube, and was where they manufactured customized nanobots. Nanobots, these particular nanobots, need human DNA to form. DNA first, then a little time to attach to a unique chemical key only for John before being activated. A safety feature. Those nanobots are John's and John's alone as they form a unique bond to that small amount of DNA of his. Susan, meanwhile, had carefully stacked John's diapers and plastic panties next to another pile of ruffled panties in different colors. Ruffle Butts the packages said as Susan opened each and carefully removed the nylon covered plastic. Every pair was lovingly fondled and caressed. As if already covering John's diapered bottom. John wasn't aware of what he'd wear one day as he took another swig of his elixir waiting for the all clear on his DNA. After six hours of pre- selected radiation codes, incubation and seventeen more hours of special radiation triggers, John's own personal bots were introduced back into his blood stream. Those first nanobots are designed to be very short lived. These particular nanobots are designed to die in a battle John felt only as a light and slight allergic reaction. More like a minor head cold if John had to describe the symptoms. They gave John another series of those same nanobots in a nasal spray to start cleaning those shelf like structures in his nose called turbinate. Turbinates are those structures which help trap particles entering the nasal passages. Those particular nanobots hit the back of John's throat in about ten to fifteen minutes after they were introduced. Those nanobots are not too unlike a cold virus, carried in by that ciliary action that allows a cold virus to reach a person's adenoids. The adenoids is a lymph gland structure and, like a cold virus, the nanobots attached to cells within that structure to begin a ride through his lymph nodes. John was literally being cleaned inside out. An hour after that spray, John began to sneeze and sniffle. John grew sicker with a slight fever that peaked and broke a couple of days later. When his fever broke his symptoms ended and so too those first nanobots. A swab of his mouth and nose was taken and somebody, somewhere told someone else that John was okay for the next phase. Feminizing a young man was something Susan had spent years learning. Susan actually learned her craft as a real dominatrix. Susan knew some men took to that sort of thing through punishment. Susan also knew some were led down that path through persuasion, a few were born to it and some, like John, would be nurtured into it. Susan, above all else was a nurturer. Her entire view of such things came from that core belief that a person will do almost anything if it begins with a hug. Susan was a huger and John, with this ordeal ahead of him would need a lot of hugs at the end of it. With that first process okay and approval to continue on John's condition, the next step was about to start. John got another dose of nanobots, a second set injected. John's symptoms changed again as those nanobots adapted themselves to nearly four hundred differing bacteria. Almost every bacteria that John had that he was not born with as it happens. Those nanobots also die after a day or so from being introduced. A third set of genetically designed nanobots are injected the same way as that second set and with those all hell breaks loose for a couple of more days. This third set, far more powerful than the first or second, left John's body filled with what the doctor calls super white blood cells. These nanobots will live just long enough to kill everything else that rarely dies. This was John's cure phase only the cure is about twice as painful as most diseases they went after. For the next few days John prayed for a quick death as those nanobots cleansed him of literally everything he'd picked up since birth. John also spent most of his time either standing over or sitting on the toilet before being sprayed with disinfectant. Actually, John came out of that internal cleansing literally even more pure than a new born baby. Better than a newborn baby the voice over the speaker said when John asked what was happening to him. Twelve days passed and with it most everything inside of John that wasn't actually John. Treating John like a baby was designed to be very obvious as Susan went through her list of accessories she found necessary. Baby bottles, utensils, dishes, sippy cups, bibs and enough food to feed a baby for weeks were checked and double checked as Susan stocked her cabinets. She hummed to herself happily. John would not openly want to be babied, but would come to it out of necessity first while his healing processes were underway. In a way those first short weeks would work in Susan's favor when John came under her care. "Treating a man like a baby softened that man and when that man was soft enough, feminizing him would be far easier," or so said Grace Manchester in the class Susan had sat through. From Susan's perspective, as it also was noted, this would be the first real opportunity for the bonding process to begin between John and Susan. It wasn't too unlike a mother and baby, Grace had noted when she described what John would be needing. "Considering him like you might that new born child you're bringing home for the first time and you'll have that child putty in no time," Grace noted to the nods of those in Susan's class. As Susan thought of that, those last nanobots worked very effectively and in that time John passed a lot of things that had died inside of him. Unfortunately they didn't exactly allow John to pass all of it by himself and his first enema started four days into that last cleansing process. These enemas are a very indignant but effective process carried out several times a day to help John void all of that dead material. A very nasty but necessary bit of business, John mused with a scowl, at the end of that process. The tubing itself was done by robots after John was secured to a bed with his bottom up. The rounded tube was lubricated and slowly pushed into John's rear before the solution was streamed inside of him. John grunted as his intestines swelled making him feel as if he was about to explode. And explode he did when the time came. A comfortably stream of warm water washed him when he was empty again. "You are as pure as the driven snow! More so..." a technician said over the loud speaker as John's stool sample readouts were finally returned. John's stool, just for the record, was nearly white by the end of that process. Literally John's poop no longer smelled. Of course John was now susceptible to every disease known to man, and some most likely not known. At this first stage, the slightest infection, however innocent before this, would quite literally kill him and do so faster than a speeding bullet. John had made it or so he was told. He didn't think he would but he did and over the loud speaker, as John was passed into another chamber, phase one had ended. John was happy to pass those doors when he did. Susan got the word and as before, was now part of John's medical review team. Susan was there to monitor his level of tolerance for the rest of this process and, when it became necessary, to be there for him when things started getting bad. Susan wanted his comments, thoughts and attitude as the process continued. John, meanwhile, waited while another large - very large and very intimidating Lucite door slowly opened. John passed through and it closed behind him and as secure as that first. He was told to move on as the walkway hissed a cloud of something behind him. John's trip now was also a continuation of increasing security as he entered into the next highest level of isolation. Isolation was crucial and for John's very life at that moment. John was at very high risk until the end of this phase and this phase started in a stage six isolation ward. A stage six isolation simply means that nothing, but you, still lives in that room. A stage six isolation ward is sealed from every living thing in the universe. What comes in such as air, water and that gelled liquid John pretended to eat, is filtered till only the base atoms of those things can pass through the special filters. And just to make sure, even then those base atoms are bombarded with several types of radiation before John gets them. There was, for the record, no other human as pure as John was at that moment. John would remain here until he was capable of walking and moving around again. Being weak as a kitten is a good way to describe what John felt like when the large doors sealed behind him. Just inside, as those door sealed, John was in another cell as a robot arm administered, via a needle, a new set of nanobots. These particular nanobots would, in a few days, aid in John's recovery for the next phase. These last are a set of newly customized white blood cells and about 1,000 times more powerful than the ones John had all of his life. When those second set of nanobots took hold John would be declared, fit and free to move about without worry. That declaration, by a team of doctors that must all agree for the record, that he was free of everything they know about. Free of everything that nature introduced into you when you were first formed. That declaration was by a team of four different doctors, and independently of one another as each studied a separate blood sample from John. They were a crucial key for the next phase. Meanwhile, back at John's new house John's bed, a toddler's version and for a girl, was set in the center of his room with two night stands on either side. A soft canopy of chiffon was overhead with their own large bows now matching the curtains. Below that airy canopy a cute spread with Disney's Cinderella decorating it. His pillow case matched the Cinderella sheets that matched the spread. On the walls, posters from all of Disney's movies where a female was the theme: Cinderella, Snow White, and Bell hung next to Jasmine. In a corner were his dolls and stuffed animals. There was a cute computer table with Disney's motif surrounding the bezel of the screen that matched the childish mouse pad. In John's closet there was a growing assortment of dresses, slips and shoes with a cute Barbie rain coat, hat and umbrella set Susan had found shopping after her medical review meeting. Everyone was satisfied with John's progress up to this point as was Susan with John's room and growing wardrobe. Once that medical declaration was made John was allowed to slip into a tube at the end of the room he was in. That tube, John was told was how he would ride to the next phase. That tube, John was also told, was shielded by several layers of radiation to protect him from a world that can now kill him in a thousand new ways, at least until those nanobots took hold. John, when he slipped through that tube, now found himself within what they called the Xeonatrop Flash Phase. It took fifteen minutes for robot arms to fix John onto a bed made of glass. Several layers of glass actually and all designed to reflect 100% of what would happen next. It was a very special glass bed designed to bounce and reflect Xeon amplified waves of light over every inch of John's body one millimeter at a time. John was in a kind of glass cocoon that, John noted, felt as cold as it looked. That cocoons' design, he knew, would hold him in check as the Xeon bulb flashes. Those flashes, John also knew, would become more painful as the intensity grew and it did. John also knew that, but wasn't fully capable of understanding it till it started. Some, if they could explain this chamber and it's effect, would tell you it is analogous to what a lobster goes though when he's dumped live into a vat of boiling water. John was told this by a technician a while back. John was only now beginning to understand the dark humor of that analogy as those flashes begin. John also began to understand why he had been so tightly restrained. John didn't know this, but his screams, like many who pass through that process, bother some of the technicians so a few shut the sound off. Some of the technicians also say that the lobster is actually luckier than those passing through this chamber. Luckier, because within just a moment or so, the lobster dies while John, unfortunately, lives on. Xenon is a very rare, colorless, odorless and nearly non-reactive gas that, under very high pressure can produce a short burst of ultraviolet light rays. These UV waves while short and easily amplified are designed to be controllable to the width of a cell and far smaller than a human hair. Which is, as it happens, what goes first. A robot arm, right after two others secured John within the bed, injected him with a mild pain killer. It is never enough pain killer, because what goes off over that hour is the entire first layer of John's epidermal layer, or skin. If a lobster could scream, some note, that lobster would sound a lot like John in those eternally long sixty minutes. Fortunately, when John could not imagine lasting another second, it was over. Not as quickly as he hoped, but it was finally done. John had lost the complete first layer of his epidermal to the depth of two cells and with it he began to realize just how many nerve cells the body has. John cursed this place as two technicians, using those same robotic arms from a remote controlled booth, release him from that bed of torture. Meanwhile.... Susan was looking at pictures of little girls, some in diapers.... Dressing a young man as a girl is easier if you simply think of that young man already as a girl. Dressing a young man as a child is far simpler if you also consider that young man as a child. Susan thought of John right from the start as both a child and as a girl. John was almost like a new born because he was going to need to be taught a lot of new things. Most of what Susan would teach him is how to look, act and deep down feel like a little girl. Some, unlike Susan, simply taught their charges how to act and acting it was. Others, like Susan, would teach John the pleasures of being what he was to become. When you can imagine you are something you can be what you imagine. Susan wasn't going to teach John how to be a little girl as much as she was going to treat him as one so he could become one. When there is a treatment to the level of intensity Susan would introduce, John himself would take care of the rest of it. In Susan's mind John was already there. She also wondered where John actually was in that process that he was in before she got him..... John, meanwhile had also lost every surface microorganism known to man, and again, a few not known. Skin, bugs, and every bit of hair John had or would ever have was now gone. John was now as clean outside as he was inside, and as smooth as that baby they often talk about. As smooth as a baby is a fairly accurate analogy because, in a sense, John was now very much like that newborn. Actually, John was smoother than that because babies do have some hair and John literally had none. As a matter of fact, from the Space Corps point of view, John was perhaps one of the most expensive babies ever born or in this case reborn at that moment. No one really knows what the cost is for this entire process, but a guess to this point is roughly four million dollars. Four million dollars to just get John here and ready to be put into the Synplast chamber. In the Synplast chamber they injected John with a sedative then filled his lungs with oxygel. Oxygel would allow John to breath for the next two days so they can seal his mouth and nose closed. At first John thought he was drowning. He didn't. They also added a layer of dissolvable gel to his eyes that hardens. A soft plug went into his bottom and that expanded closing that hole off. Two more plugs, for his ears went in while two more sealed his nose. Finally a sheath was pulled over his penis and slowly shrunk when the air hit it. Once again robot arms secured John onto another special bed. Synplast is a Synthetic plastic polymeric layer. That layer was about to be added and literally "cooked" onto John. Synplast is actually a unique polymeric that earlier was painted and mixed with John's own skin cells just taken those days earlier. That plastic slush, now coated with John's cells will soon become John's new layer of skin. One side, the outside, will be incredibly hard; while the other, softer, is actually a very pure form of John's skin. Robot arms, after John was secured, slipped John and his special bed into a bath of it before a soft radiation began to cause the mixture to adhere those cells to his own. Once again John was lightly sedated and allowed to spend another day of hell wishing he were somewhere else. All the while wishing that and wanting to scratch away the agony from the tips of his toes to the very top of his head. Between the sedative and pain John was out of it as his bed was lifted from the foaming bath. He was slid into an adjacent chamber and another mild form of radiation, in a room just at 98.6 degrees, aided the process. When it was over John now look more like a plastic doll on an assembly line than the person he was. Remarkably, a doll without any features because John would still need eye brows, lashes and a wig for that to be true. That itching, they told John, was his bodies attempt to fluff off that Synplast layer before it was set. That attempt to scratch began driving John mad, and much of it because John couldn't touch it. Galvanometric restraints keep John from doing so till that layer was set. After a while, and again just before John would go stark raving mad, it ended. ----- A Little Girl's World ----- John would be nurtured in steps, by Susan, beginning simply then growing more elaborate. It was his costuming as it was called but costuming didn't define the dresses Susan was holding as she shopped. One of the biggest advantages of having a man John's size, was those dresses and the things he'd wear under them. Fashions for little girls change with the times but not everything. Some of those dresses are timeless and Susan was shopping for those first. For a mom they were the Sunday best or going to grandma's house kind of dresses. For Susan they were John's first steps in this world she was going to craft for him. Pinks and pastels and not a shred of cotton in any of them. If you don't count his new diapers. We define our world with our senses, all of our senses and one of Susan's goals was to make sure John's senses had something feminine and soft to hang on to. His sense of touch would feel nothing but the softest and most feminine of fabrics. His sense of sight would see nothing but the most delightful of girlish and childish visions. John's sense of smell the perfumes and bubble baths he would soon come to know. Hearing would confirm what he wore since most boys never hear the rustle of a pretty dress and taste, she mused, would come from Gerber and rubber tipped baby bottles for a time. While his body would come to understand what his senses were telling him, Susan would be adding her own words to his. Until then John was cursing those very senses... For the most part, the worse part of John's pain passed in four to six hours and a sedative John had been given helped as the pain ended. When that ended so had that phase. Synplast or that plastic skin now allowed John to move into a stage four isolation room after being "unplugged". He threw up most of the gel and passed what remained. In a stage four isolation room you can actually see another living person, but only in those sealed suits as they check his vitals. This, they told him is when he would rest up a bit. Two kinds of hell, somebody decided thankfully, needs time to be forgotten. They give you those two days while more test are conducted. When all ten of the technicians giving those test gave a thumbs up, the head of that sections also gave their go ahead. John was put onto a gurney, wheeled into a med chamber, and the first of four major operations were about to begin. Those technicians, privately, call this phase the ultimate Sexual Reassignment Surgery and, on occasion, but privately, the doll works. John knew this was going to happen and thought long and hard over the ramifications of what was about to happen. The fact that he would never, ever get sick again, nor age as quickly had helped. And it began as a doctor in another bio suit took up a scalpel just after looking at the clock. They started with the removal of two ribs at the lowest part of John's rib cage. Those ribs are removed completely, and just behind his breast, and those remaining ribs, went his implants. Those implants would slowly seal to his lungs and that new thin scar will be gone in a few days. Another implant also began to scrub John's gases coming out and again going back in. They scrubbed and mixed those with pure oxygen and that was tested. John held his breath at their request, and he was told simply to hold it till his body would demand a breath. John discovered this roughly came an hour later, when he finally did breath, and that it could have been two hours. Those additions to enhance his intake of oxygen to his lungs are already working. It is an amazing feeling, John mused, to hold his breath for nearly what seemed like forever. John would be taught how to breath using those new gas scrubbers and condensers later. In the old days it was called a re-breather and someday they will allow you to do so without using your nose and mouth at all. John held his breath while playing with the concept of going for long periods of time without taking another. It was something he can't yet imagine even as he begin reaching that two hour limit. There were a lot of things that habit drove and it felt odd holding your breath for as long as he now could. John couldn't imagine never eating again either. You can imagine what you'll be missing because you've tasted it. You can't imagine not tasting things again but his stomach was removed. That went after the next team of surgeons entered. His stomach and nearly two thirds of his upper and lower intestines followed. There was a sloppy, squishy, red mess weighing in at roughly eleven pounds that went into a bio hazard resolution vat to be broken down to it's basic cells before the rest was being blasted to atoms via a plasma flame. Most of it had been John's intestines, stomach and colon. Some of that soup was handed off and handled in another part of the building while John was under. John, of course, didn't see that part but he could imagine he could hear it as it was removed. He'd rather not hear it either and he was so very glad he didn't see it. John didn't know it yet, but there were fine wire implants installed in the upper part of his mouth that would, once he was hooked to his processing unit, allow him to taste any combination of things he'd ever tasted or would taste. He could eat the best of everything and never touch a drop of drink or a morsel of food. A ten course meal was easy programming. The doctor looked at the test patterns and nodded. John could eat and drink but it would forever be baby food and a solution that would serve as a blood plasma replenishment. They intended the eating for pleasure when some became desperate to put something in their mouth. The formula, like most baby formulas would be taken in baby bottles with modified nipples. Susan was storing John's new baby bottles as John's implants were tested. John's heart was next, or the operation to modify it. His heart was connected with two flat leads coated with that same body adhesive that now covered him. Those leads connect into a small flat box made slightly pliable to fit inside of his chest. A box, he was told, that will ultimately send feedback into a computer. There were ten hands playing around his chest and not a one of them knew John's name. That first team focused on John's major organs. That second on his lungs again and the third, mostly technicians, were there for the implant tubing and wiring. Again, John had been told about most of it. John had also been told the worse of it. John didn't dwell on that last part much. That worse part, for a guy that is, is by way of another specialist. She was a surgeon concentrating on the one obvious thing that makes a man a man, and that too, what's left of it, goes into the bio hazard resolution vat. Not all of it because the remaining skin is laid open, inverted, tucked and formed within a new void she created. John, already under when this happened, was glad he would be sleeping in those moments. To anyone looking on and a dozen are, including Susan, John became officially, a post operative transsexual. John still looked like a doll without those features he'd get, but he was unofficially a girl doll now. That surgeon took one last look around, smiled and left a lower level resident surgeon to close. That surgeon has done a thousand of those procedures, but each one always left her smiling. That surgeon often tells those asking that she's an expert at turning men into women and she enjoys telling that to men most of all - and in detail. John though, still asleep, is not done yet. Meanwhile, before a half dozen hours in recovery, a new team of two has joined the rest just finishing. Those two make small cuts where John's hair line once was and they peel back his scalp. Hardly more than lifting a rug, some say, but the image of that gives some goose-bumps. They stand back with their hands covered in a towel soaked in chemicals, while another set of technicians, waiting in the background till now, attach a custom fitted shield to John's skull. It's been custom made for him from a CATSCAN. That shield has a delicate web or ribbon of wires now coming from the exposed skull connecting to contacts for the brain side. A delicate membrane holding a set of chips about the size of a dime begins transmitting a code to a computer that begins transmitting back to John. Over time that base communications link will be fixed. John has now been engineered to talk with hardly more than a thought, and he can listen without ears. John now has terabytes of information at his disposal. The metallic nature of that cover and those webs also will prevent most forms of hard radiation from frying that gray mass one day. Under that web are additional leads added for that same monitor that will watch John's heart and other vitals. Those wires that connect all of this other stuff is snaked down a new major blood vessel and the surgeon down below, using a microscope, connects it to that soft box where John's stomach use to be. That third team, working on the skull has now finished. That second team that was doing what was once called a sexual reassignment surgery follows that first to the door, and the last of this ordeal ends in just over fourteen hours. For the next twenty four more hours another set of nanobots, assisting those extra that were injected into John before, begin the healing process. John's super white blood cells will heal him about one hundred times faster than before. That phase has ended. Actually just the operation part of that phase has ended. It's not over till those doctors say it is. A board of doctors, looking over reams of information, must pass on John before John is passed on. A small group of experts looks over John's charts and signs off that he's made it this far successfully and safely. Made it this far, or perhaps, so far as some might say, given what's been done. John now looks very much like a doll only it's most definitely a new girl doll as he is wheeled into what they call a phase three isolation chamber with an operating theater. This is after John recovered they said, but John might have argue that. It seems like years have passed instead of just days. This following phase is for the eyes mostly, and that takes almost as long as those surgeons that made all that space they will need. John's eyes was the second of four more operations he would go through, but when it's finished he would be able to see in ten additional wave lengths besides what he once saw. He can also, thanks to a new set of corneas, take a small twenty two caliber bullet at point blank range without damage. That's the theory anyway, and John was glad they leave it just a theory. Flinching is also now a figurative term because your old lids have gone into that same bio hazard resolution vat as well. As have his finger and toe nails. That's a minor operation, John was told, and hardly counts, because it's simply to end the cell growth of those protective shells. That second operation is finished and a third operation begins. This third one is done that following day, or night because John was no longer sure. John, in that operation, got a new set of eye lids added that actually, when closed, can seal the eyes completely now. Hardened Shields, as well have been added to his eyes. Sealing the eyes is insurance against accidental exposure to hard space. So too those new finger nails fashioned like the first, but all made of that poly-morphic-ceramic. John's toes are covered in their own layer of ceramic and baked on. Baked on is also figurative since it's nanobots and radiation again melding the skin to that special layer of plastic and ceramic. No one pays much attention to the length of those new nails on John's hands simply because he already looks like a little girl. They give John a full week to get over those injustices this time. Most of that time was spent learning how to talk with the computer he'd be forever linked to. At first all John got was headaches and it's not talking as you might think of talking. Mostly it's just odd noises at first. Chirps, clicks and whistles for a while making him think of old modems or faxes connecting. They say that will change as the computer "gets to know John" and John "her". John has asked why the computer talked like a female and all he'd gotten at the time was a shrug. Of course John was no longer male except for the brain part and that female part from the computer was part of his feminization process. John was also told that the next operation makes it all worth it. That last, the best and John had read first hand accounts of this from others like him. He was looking forward to that part because he was announced ready for the "plug". That plug is a device inserted where a man's penis would go if John were a woman. Since John is, in fact, more woman now than a guy that's where his plug went. It's a soft plug that form fits within John's new Vagina. A not so pleasant sensation at first but that changes some. John noted that change in silence but with a slight shudder as an odd sense of satisfaction. The leads from the plug were routed to that small package in his chest area, and fed through a small plastic tube before it was connected. That plug wasn't planned in the beginning, or was, but functioned originally only as a catheter. That changed, and by the good graces of whoever designed that change, John now had, what a lot of women would envy, a very effective stimulator custom designed to fit his new vagina. That stimulator was for John's sake. The sake of John as a human. John could not imagine something like this until the first time they activate it for testing. John immediately, and involuntarily, wanted to kiss whoever it was that invented it. John would, if he could, kiss them each time those basic test for the stimulator were made. John also wanted to kiss the technician as well and pray he or she would just keep testing it. That stimulator was tested while he was still in recovery. Obviously John was told all of this before then, but he didn't fully understand what that meant. He didn't understand until that someone threw that switch or pressed a button. It leaves most, and this time John, moaning in delight. John found himself begging for that switch to be thrown again and again, and he couldn't wait to discover how he could throw it on his own. Fortunately or unfortunately whoever invented it also knew that. They already knew you would keep that switch on till you died from starvation or dehydration. To avoid that an additional implant was added. That small bit of new electronics is used to monitor those orgasms John will be having. It's a safety switch of sorts, and rightly so because it's the only thing keeping patients from killing themselves in the most wonderful of ways. When it's all said and done, John will be allowed no more than sixteen complete, but multiple orgasms a day once the safety switch is on. It is also many more times than most people could ever hope to have, so John's arguments of more times was never ever going to wash. What is also unique, according the procedure John read about, is that for the first time in his life he actually knew what it's like to have multiple orgasms. One of the first real benefits of being a girl after a half dozen weeks of pure hell getting there. "If you are going to be more like a girl you might just as well reap some of the rewards. Right," said John's first psychologist. A psychologist who also happens to be a female herself and obviously biased some. In some ways that was true, that bias, but so too was John's now. John never really noticed that almost everyone he was coming into contact with was female and that too was designed that way. John was, for all intents and purposes, female and, for his sake, that was the view they wanted him to form at some point. At least the notions would be there. Anyway, those few days in isolation following that last set of operations were simply put aside to give John all the time he needed to take advantage of that tingling sensation he was learning to induce. They gave him that time before the safety device is activated. Remarkably, it was a hundred times better than pain killers and that was John's opinion when he stopped long enough to take one. That tingling is not truly an orgasm so that's allowed without restrictions. It's a sort of rest and relaxation before the rest that follows. Although you don't get much rest nor do you relax much. That tingling stiffens your legs and arches your back nearly every hour on the hour for the next thirty six hours so John was hardly resting. Fortunately it's also good exercise so that too was one of the reasons John was allowed to 'play' with himself for a bit. So it was that by the time his last operation was started John's world was looking a lot more rosy than it had. Actually by the time John was scheduled for that last operation he was nearly past the overwhelming desire to induce those sexual teases - almost. John's last operation opened him again, and that is done for the microelectronics units that now sit where everything else once sat. A rubber looking type bag formed to fit all the space you have now that sits in all that space you had. When that operation was done John could actually talk directly to most major computer systems, digest what he would take in as food, as long as it was from Gerber's, and pre-process what had to come out. The reason he no longer needed all of those intestines was simply because he processed faster. Like a computer even. John's new computer link was tested and he begin talking specifically to the one he'd come to know on his first space assignment. John did spend those first hours changing her voice and the rest of the day amazed over having instant access to almost all of the data in almost all of the world being managed, he mused, by a very pretty woman that called him precious. John could also now take a breath and hold it for two hours, go to the bathroom without ever having to go to the bathroom and start eating real food again, albeit baby food. Ironically, since it had been nearly four weeks of nothing but tubes and IV's even baby food actually tasted delicious. His first baby food was almost as good for the moral as triggering that new device they call a virgasim. That new link with the computer was tested one last time along with everything else and another panel of specialist was convened to say hello before his very last step. His food link wouldn't work till he was outside at the end. ------ virgasim ------ The panel of experts John faced were all smiling. Susan was smiling most of all. "He won't know that you've got control over his virgasim," Dr. Sniderman noted as she handed Susan the small key switch tuned to John's body. It was another element in Susan's arsenal of things to make a man do what no man would dare without those elements. She slipped the bracket onto her wrist. "John, this is Susan," Dr. Sniderman said as John and Susan took each others hand. One of the things John noticed immediately was how much warmer Susan's hands were. Truth was John's computer link inputted some of the necessary changes so that Susan's hands did feel warmer. "John," Susan said and added, "Such a silly name for someone so adorable." "It's what I was given when I was born," John said nervously. "Ah, but you've been reborn now haven't you?" Susan said in a delightfully soft voice. "Yes, I suppose so," John said blushing although he was sure there was no blush showing. "Then why don't we come up with a new name? Something more suitable and to that I'd add: Angle, because that's what you look like," Susan said. John's blushing response was to almost snicker at the notion he was an angle. Although he was almost positive he more than likely looked like one. The last doctor signed the last page of John's file and closed it. John was now free to go.... as Susan opened the door to his room and stepped in on that last day. "So, are you ready to go home?" Susan asked. "Definitely," John said excitedly. "Then let's get you dressed and out of this ugly gown," Susan noted as she touched the short green fabric. "Mind if I call you Mary for now?" Susan asked. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't," John said as he realized he was more of a she than a he. "I'd rather you want me to," Susan said as she added, "Mary." John felt an odd sensation just above the threshold of sensations just as Susan said Mary. It fostered an immediate endorphin surge that John reacted to with a slight smile. "I guess it's as good a name