Spreading Genes in Tight SpacesChapter 5
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Clarissa's Genes Get PackedChapter 1 free porn video
Clarissa Davidson lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She was thinking about particle physics, which might seem odd for a sixteen year old high school student, but it wasn't odd for Clarissa. She was a genius, and was so far ahead of her classmates in the academic realm that it was like comparing a kindergartener to an eighth grader.
You'd think that would have made her different than her peers in other ways too, but such was not the case. Smart she might be, but that didn't make life as a teenager any easier. They say that with the sweet comes the sour. That's just life. And Clarissa was fully engaged in life.
She and her brother, Matt were just three and two years old, respectively, when they were orphaned. Their father's brother, Bob, was their only living relative and he took them in. He was the only father they remembered, really, but in honor of his brother's memory, he insisted that he was just "Uncle Bob."
Their heritage was also present in their body makeup. Both their parents had been thin, and the children they produced seemed to be exact copies, physically. Neither had an ounce of fat to spare and Clarissa had been able to pass for a boy until she was thirteen. She hadn't even put on a top to swim in until Uncle Bob made her, when she was twelve. He said that even though it was only in the backyard pool, and even if nobody could see them, she was a girl and should act like one.
That was difficult for her. She didn't feel like a girl, really. Even now, well into her teens, terms like "flat as a board" applied to her well. Some of the jocks at school had even teased her, telling her she was a "pirate's dream" and laughing. She had to find out from her brother that that meant she had a "sunken chest."
That she coped with that kind of thing was because of her intelligence, though a strong dose of literal thinking helped. When Matt had told her a pirates dream was a sunken chest, she'd taken her top off and stared at herself in the mirror.
"My chest isn't sunken," she'd said to her reflection. "I have bumps."
In her mind, because her sixteen year old breasts rose from her chest a couple of inches, that meant that the jocks were wrong. That made them stupid, which meant that the fact they were cruel didn't really matter. She'd rather think about something interesting, like string theory, than concentrate on something a bunch of stupid jocks made jokes about.
Her brain recognized that it was getting dark outside. That reminded her of a joke one of her science minded friends had told her earlier in the day: "What's the speed of dark?"
She'd laughed, but she'd actually thought about it too. That was what set her apart from other teens her age. She wondered about things like what happened to all the photons that were already present in a room when a light was turned off? Where did they go?
It was her turn to cook supper, though, and the coming darkness outside reminded her of that, so she got up. Her stomach growled just to punctuate the situation.
She got things going on the stove and then went to set the table. She had to move four small boxes to do that. She knew Uncle Bob had brought them home with him, the night before, because she'd seen him come in with them.
Being a curious girl, she opened one. It contained small squares, wrapped in plain pink waxy paper that looked a lot like Starburst candies. She pulled one out, unwrapped it, sniffed it, and then popped it into her mouth.
It tasted like candy.
The other boxes contained the same thing, except the paper wrapping was different colors, blue, green and purple. She tried one of each, thinking they must be different flavors, but they all tasted the same.
Getting back to supper again, she took the boxes to the snack cupboard and put them there, next to a bag of chips. Then she continued to get supper ready.
Genius she might be, but Clarissa lacked what might have changed everything: experience. She didn't make the connection between the candies she had just eaten and the fact that her uncle ran a biogenetic company. She didn't make the connection between the fact that the wrapped candies didn't have a logo on them, and were in plain, gray cardboard boxes, instead of something devised by Madison Avenue.
And, because she didn't make those connections, she was unaware that she had just taken a quadruple dose of a new drug her Uncle's lab was testing. It was called RD684 and it was supposed to help regulate the hormones of women suffering menopausal symptoms. It was a product of the cutting edge of stem cell research and, unlike compounds that contained synthetic estrogen and progesterone, it encouraged a woman's body to make the real thing.
In short, it made a woman's body realize it was a woman's body. If there was a hormonal deficiency in that body ... it tried to correct it.
And, before supper was over that night, Clarissa's body, undeveloped, in comparison to that of most other girls her age, and hampered by the weak genes her mother had given her, got a very shocking message from RD684. That message was "Baby, you are a woman, and we're going to make you LOOK like one!"
Over the next month Clarissa overdosed on RD684 on a regular basis. Her uncle would have been very interested in that - horrified ... but interested - had he known. He didn't, of course. That would come later.
And, as so often happens when changes are relatively slow, the person being changed didn't notice it. Her brother did, though.
"Hey Rissa," said Matt one day. Like his sister he was thin and pale. He didn't look sickly, exactly, but someone might assume he was recovering from some terrible illness.
"Hmm?" Clarissa was reading a book by Stephen Hawking called "The Nature of Space and Time."
"Did you change your hair?"
She looked up and her eyebrows rose. She always wore her hair in a pony tail.
"Are you having a stroke?" she asked.
"It looks different somehow," he said. "I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's more gold or something. It looks shiny too."
Clarissa reached for her pony tail and pulled it in front of her eyes, which went crossed as she peered at it. She realized he was right. It DID look shinier. The strands almost felt silky in her fingers. And the color was deeper, warmer. She couldn't believe she hadn't already noticed it.
"How about that," she said. "Beats me. Must be something dietetic."
Matt came closer and leaned over to stare at her face.
"Your skin looks darker too. Have you been sitting out in the sun?"
"What sun?" snorted Clarissa. "It's winter, you dope."
Whether it was that incident, residing in the back of her mind, or that she was just less able to ignore the other changes in her body, over the next month she realized that her almost non existent breasts were growing. Drying off after a shower one day she looked in the mirror and her eyes widened. She had to look down to convince herself that what she saw in the mirror was real. Her breasts, which might have stuck out two inches in the past, were now looking rounded. Instead of bumps, she had humps. And the nipples were no longer just pink blobs. They looked like actual nipples!
Her eyes took in the rest of her body. In the past, you could hang a string from her armpit and it would lie flat along her body all the way to her ankle. Not so any more. At first she thought her waist had shrunk. Then she realized that her hips had swelled. It wasn't all that much, but it was very noticeable to her.
She still didn't make the connection between the two or three candies she ate each day after school, and the changes going on in her body. But she started keeping an eye on things after that.
So did her brother.
"What?!" barked Clarissa, one night. Uncle Bob was working late and she and Matt were home together. They had rented a movie to watch and it was almost over. She was in her normal sleep wear, which was panties and a T shirt. Matt had on pajama bottoms with his T shirt. He'd been staring at her for most of the movie.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"You're staring at me," she said.
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are," she insisted. "You've been staring at me for the whole movie. Why am I more interesting than the movie YOU picked out?"
Matt was also very intelligent, though not quite on the same scale as Clarissa. His IQ was only 116, while hers neared the top of the charts. Like his sister, his circle of friends included only geeks. The female ones looked much like his sister had always looked. But she didn't look that way any more.
"You have curves," he said, being polite.
"Of course I have curves," she retorted. "I'm a girl."
"You never had them before," he pointed out.
"Duh!" she snorted. "Adolescence!" She glared at him. "And why are you so interested anyway? I'm your sister!"
"True," he said, unruffled. "But you're starting to look like the women in my my..." He stopped and blushed.
"Your what?" asked Clarissa.
"Never mind," he said. "You're good looking, that's all."
"Nice try," she said, sitting up. "Answer the question. Your what?"
"You're not the boss of me," he said.
He'd said that before, of course. Clarissa, being a year older and knowing she was smarter, bossed him around just like any older sibling might do. He resisted, even though he knew what would happen when he did. Perhaps, considering her recent physical development, he said what he said intentionally. If so, it worked.
She bounded off the couch and they wrestled. They'd done this hundreds of times in the past. It was almost a ritual. He'd resist and she'd wrestle with him until she got the upper hand. Sometimes that upper hand was cerebral, rather than physical, because they were both pretty evenly matched, physically.
It was all in good fun, though, and there was laughter and taunting as they fell to the floor and rolled over each other, each one trying to pin down a wrist, or get control some other way. Over and over she repeated her question: "Your what?!"
But it was different this time.
Matt was fully aware of the feel of her body, crushed against his. Those curves he had noticed were soft, where her upper body pressed against his, and more firm below her waist. Her T shirt rode up and his hands, seeking to tickle or pinch, landed on a butt that felt more full and round. It had always been somewhat bony before. He could still pinch, but he had to take a larger chunk of skin.
He was distracted by the feel of her butt, and Clarissa saw an opportunity she always took if she could. Her fingers darted to his ribs and she tickled him mercilessly.
"YOUR WHAT?" she shouted.
He was almost helpless. She won this way quite often, and today was no different.
"MY PLAYBOY!" he shouted.
She stopped suddenly.
"You have a Playboy?" She asked it in the same way she might have asked "You've grown a third arm?"
"Uncle Bob said I could have it," he panted. She had stopped and he was surreptitiously moving his fingers for a counter attack.
"He did?" She sounded amazed. "Why would he do that?"
Matt struck ... or thought he was striking. Things got a little mixed up. Thinking about his Playboy made him think about the breasts of the models he stared at as he beat off. He'd always wanted to feel a girl's breasts, but that was a little like wanting to walk on the moon. Maybe someday.
And so, when his fingers darted to tickle her, they somehow ended up dancing all over her breasts. His touch was light, and consisted of both poking gently and stroking.
For Clarissa, awareness of the change in their play came when her nipples communicated with other parts of her body. They tingled and an almost electric jolt of pleasure shot to her brain.
She froze and looked down to see her brother's hands cupped over her breasts. She watched them squeeze, and felt the tingles again.
"What are you doing?" she asked, a little breathlessly.
"Tickling you," he answered, squeezing again.
"No you're not," she said. "You're feeling my boobs!"
"I guess so," he sighed, unashamed. "I'm sure glad you grew them."
"You're a pervert!" she squealed, leaning back and breaking contact with his hands.
"No I'm not," he said, staring at what he'd so recently felt. They felt wonderful, as far as he was concerned. "I'm a guy. All guys love boobs."
"Not their sister's boobs," she said.
"Why not?" he asked. "It's not like I'll ever get touch anybody else's."
"Why do you have a Playboy?" she asked.
"Well duh," he smirked. "I thought you were supposed to be the genius of the family."
Alessandra
- 24.06.2021
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