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The Birth And Rebirth Of Katerina free porn video
The Birth and Rebirth of Katerina
My new reproductive system floated in a tank before me. I was old enough
to remember when "sex reassignment," as it was then called, involved
surgical conversion of the penis into a vagina by a human surgeon. 3D
printing wasn't even on the radar until I was sixteen, and the phrase
"cell sculpting" wasn't on the radar until I graduated from college.
I completed my pre-med studies in 2025, initially planning to become an
endocrinologist in order to help trans women such as myself. My Anatomy &
Physiology teacher had taken taken me under her wing, however, and helped
me land a biotech job in San Francisco. Though I was grateful, I spent the
first two years at the company in a basement laboratory wondering daily if
I had made the right decision. At that time the US still had a scarcity-
based market system and rent in the city priced plebs like me all the way
out to the trashy fringes of the Oakland suburbs. What then seemed a
hardship proved a priceless blessing. Not only did my ramshackle living
conditions spark the fiery work ethic for which I'm now famous, but it was
also on the unsettling, shooting prone sidewalk between my apartment
complex and the grocery store where I first met Cat, the first woman whose
body I occupied.
She was a blonde whose diet and daily workout routines made her
irresistible to the opposite sex. When she wandered the neighborhood we
shared in those days she carried mace on her keychain and a switchblade in
her pocket. She reminded me of both as I slipped her arms into the sleeves
of her black leather jacket to commute to work as a woman for the first
time. We walked together in a way. Her consciousness communicated with my
smartphone through the cloud. She had no interest in trying my body and
had elected instead to give full disembodiment a shot for the first time.
As per California law, she could override my control of her body at any
time, but unless she did so only I experienced her standard senses. Using
an app on my phone I could assist her in seeing through the camera lens of
my smart phone and hear through the mic as well. There were far better
ways to allow disembodied folks to interact with the material world, taste
and smell peripherals, sensation expanders, and even sense-sharing
applications, though such technologies were in their infancy. Once again,
though, we were both rather poor at the time and had pushed our collective
creativity and technological skills to the edge just to achieve the
consciousness transfer. Though now such processes are quite routine,
almost mundane, at the time they were available only to the uber-rich and
viewed with apprehension. In fact, two employees at the biotech lab found
my first workplace arrival as a female far more jarring than I expected
for folks working in such close proximity to the industry.
The first was the lab's receptionist, a religious woman in her forties who
wore a golden cross about her neck. Karen was her name, I think, though
she's an old, fading memory. Remember, this was ten years before the first
trans president and her teen years were in the early 80s when gender norms
were not only rigid but entirely taken for granted. No self-respecting man
would want to be a woman, and a change in the other direction would be, if
anything, an even greater abomination. At the time what we then called
"ftm transexuals," couldn't purchase a fully functional cell-sculpted
penis if they were billionaires. In fact, outside of our lab and those of
our European colleagues in Zurich and Warsaw, the concepts still belonged
to the realm of science fiction. And though simple body transfers were
already a reality, albeit an expensive one, Karen hadn't seen one until
that day.
She realized what was happening quickly. As you all know, simply occupying
another person's body isn't enough to pass as that person. We all have our
own ways of speaking, walking, gesturing, and making faces. Depending on
who occupies a form, it can appear to be two entirely different people. At
the time, though, the distinction between the physical and subtle bodies
was largely unheard of outside of Eastern texts such as the Bhagavad Gita
and The Yellow Emperor's Body. The phrase, "You look like your sister,"
was so commonly shouted at first time male to female transferees in those
days that it became a widespread cultural joke. Of course, most of you
likely aren't old enough to remember, and consciousness transfers have
been so completely replaced by cell-sculpting and robotic surgery that the
phrase is dusty and dated.
"Are you Benjamin's sister?" Karen asked, scrutinizing Cat's face, its
muscles rippling with my smile.
The transfer had already nearly slipped my mind, though my headphone cord
sliding across my nipples occasionally reminded me of my new, temporary
body with a slight frictional sting and an accompanying wave of
gooseflesh. Such sensations are so familiar to long-term female body
occupants that they're hardly noticed, but recent transfer subjects
usually require several days to acclimate themselves to these sensations.
When I complained to Cat about it through the app, she simply responded,
"Welcome to womanhood, Benjamina." That's what she called me that day. I
hadn't yet even considered what my feminized consciousness might wish to
call itself yet. Another twenty minutes into my commute, though, I was too
absorbed in a game on my cell-phone and no longer caught up in the
explorations of my new bodily sensations. Karen's response pulled me right
back into full morphological awareness, however.
"No, Karen, I'm just Benjamin in a slightly different package," I
responded, trying to ignore her almost panicked expression. The blood had
drained from her face, which wore a half-hidden grimace.
"Why? Or, I mean... is it for some kind of... experiment?"
"Well, it's not really for an experiment. It is an experiment."
"I see," she said curtly, and buzzed me in without another word, clutching
at her cross as I passed her by and descended the stairs into the
laboratory offices.
This frustrating encounter was followed immediately by another I found
even more uncomfortable. I greeted Jarvis, my favorite work friend, as he
passed me in the hall. He looked me up and down and gave me a leer I
hadn't known belonged to his repertoire of faces until that very moment.
"Hi there. Uh, hello. Are you Benjy's sister?"
Still disoriented from how different his behavior towards Cat's body was
than to my own and being the focus of such behavior, I simply shook my
head.
"No."
"Oh, he's one of my... co-workers. But uh, anyways, what's your name."
"Katerina."
I blurted it seemingly without thought. The name simply sprung from my
subconscious.
"Russian?"
"Eh... not really. I'm just your run-of-the-mill European mutt is all."
It was a strange charade. My boss Charley was aware of the fact I was
attending work transferred that day and Jarvis was bound to find out
within a few hours that it was me walking about in this blonde form which
so clearly electrified him. He looked at Cat's breasts, then her crotch,
then back up into her eyes. I much preferred the religious receptionist's
cry reception to my friend's relentless eye fucking.
"Listen Jarvis, you're being pretty awkward."
"Awk--wait how do you know my--"
"It's me, Benjy. Me and a friend managed to pull off a transfer with some
equipment we borrowed from the lab."
"Holy... oh, wow. Well, uh... good morning, man. I was just, uh... heading
to the bathroom. I'll, uh, see you later."
Relieved to watch him go, I continued to my office where I found my key to
the stasis chambers. A few moments later I opened the body-scan
application, folded my clothes neatly, placed them on a shelf, and sealed
myself in chamber 102. I slipped on the oxygen tank as it filled with
stasis fluid and inhaled deeply. Green lasers began to run up and down
Cat's body, locating any imbalances in her fat/water/muscle composition
and preparing us for bio-optimization.
As a condition for allowing me to explore life in her body, she asked for
a full bio-optimization. It was normally an expensive procedure, but I'd
worked out a payment plan with Charley. The chance to become Cat for a
day, even a few hours, was simply too appealing to pass up on financial
grounds. Not only that, but I got to experience the sensations of the bio-
optimization itself, which is, as I hope most of you know, near-
indescribably pleasurable.
First the tension in my muscles drained away, replaced with a new firmness
and strength. I felt an increasing firmness in Cat's breasts and hips,
mine at the time, as well. Her labia smoothed and softened. I felt a warm
moistness trickle from deep inside me down to my slit. My clit engorged
with blood, just like the head of my penis, and I felt a similar
stiffness. The sensation was far more concentrated, however, and
accompanied by a throb and tightness alien to my male nervous system. My
nipples turned to gooseflesh once again as they tingled with pinpricks
like a waking limb. I curled my elegant toes and clenched my powerful
quads and buttocks. Too soon, though it would have been to soon no matter
how long it lasted, the whirring of the machine ceased and the chamber's
fluid drained away leaving me, now a perfect female specimen, standing wet
in the chamber as the fans switched on and began to evaporate the
remaining moisture on my smooth, cream-white flesh.
"Fuck," I said.
It was all I could think to say.
"Holy... fuck."
I ran my hand from the crack of my ass to my perineum and pressed two
fingers into my soft perineal sponge. There was a throb not unlike the
throb of my prostate during sex in my male body, but sharper and more
rapid. I rubbed and pressed until a trail of arousal fluid wet my fingers,
bidding them to follow across the tingling surface of my vulva into the
warm interior of my vagina. My stiff clitoral bulbs, strips of erectile
tissue like those in the shaft of my long-forgotten cock, greeted my
fingers and begged them to go deeper. I ran my slick fingertips gently
across my bio-optimized clit. Even this slight touch was too intense,
drawing from my mouth a pained moan. Carried away, I hardly noticed the
rapping at the door. When I finally did, it was with considerable
annoyance.
Cat had given me enthusiastic permission to explore the range of her
sexual response.
"I assumed that would be part of it," she'd said.
"It's always good to check," I'd said.
"No shit," she'd responded with a twitch of her nose and a smile which I
now tried to replicate in the mirror as I dressed again and prepared to
answer the intrusive knock.
"Hello Katerina," I said to my new reflected self.
"Ben?" It was Charley's voice.
"Yeah," I said, "hold up a minute."
I opened the door to find Charley and Jarvis standing together. Charley's
mouth dropped slightly open and his eyes went wide. Jarvis whistled the
riff to Led Zeppelin's Heartbreaker.
"Holy... fuck," he said, "you're gorgeous, dude. That bio-optimization is
no joke."
"Good afternoon, Ben," Charley said, diverting his eyes.
"Do you think I could go next?" Jarvis asked.
"With bio-optimization? It's pretty expensive, man," I said.
"Yeah, that would be nice," he said, "but I mean the rest of it, too. Or
maybe just, you know... it seems fun... or, uh, cool."
"It is. You'll need to find a partner to transfer with, but we can make it
happen. What about you, Charley?"
"Eh, I'll pass. My wife wouldn't want me trying it with anyone else, and
we're... as close as we need to be. Your girl's a real looker, though,
Ben."
Even at that early moment, my male name had an unnatural and clunky ring
in my soft, feminine ears. It seemed a relic from another time to which I
had no desire to return to. Alas, I also had no choice but to return. Not
yet, though. And once I was back to being dull, un-optimized Benjamin, I
could immediately embark on a quest to return to the newly discovered land
of femininity. I'd caught the bug. It was morphological freedom or bust.
It wouldn't do to simply become a copy of Cat, however. Although I could
use the optimization scans of her body to begin the redesign of my source
body, and planned to do so ASAP, I was already catching glimpses of the
woman I longed to become in my mind's eye: Katerina.
In the next few years, as tech allowed gender exploration to become
increasingly mainstream, many others would find themselves wishing to
permanently transform themselves into the new women and men they
discovered within themselves as well. Some opted for even more creative
and extreme body redesigns. Little did I know then that my name would
become synonymous with the most popular process used to facilitate these
countless, beautiful rebirths and transfigurations.
With my innovations came profits as well as fame, of course, and as
technological progress continued to accelerate, I found myself in the
position to remold myself to whatever design I wished. And that is how I
came to stand before my new reproductive system floating in a tank of
stasis fluid, ready for implantation, printed in a mixture of "bio-ink"
and my own stem cells. I shook with anticipation, picturing myself sedated
in the operating room as my home robotic surgeon remade me to my exact
specifications, with some suggestions from Cat, of course: a beautiful,
brilliant biotech engineer and wealthy European mutt named Katerina.
Later, as the machine whirled and flashed, Cat waited anxiously to see the
results along with two family friends who had come to greet me and
celebrate my "rebirthday." Janice, the female alter-ego Jarvis often
donned on weekends, repeatedly whistled the first few bars of Fur Elise.
Merrill, once a Christian receptionist named Karen, clutched at the
pentagram charm hanging about his neck. A tone sounded from down the hall.
They heard the hydraulics wail as the surgical table lowered my newly
modified body into stasis fluid for a two-hour healing soak. For me, the
hours passed quickly as the tiny incisions the robot left in my abdomen,
chest, and pubic mons rapidly healed. The chamber beeped. I blinked awake
to hear the creak of the door. Cat slinked inside.
"Babe?" she said.
I rose from the draining pool of stasis fluid. For a moment Cat smiled,
but her expression quickly darkened.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
She screamed.
To be continued...
Libbie
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