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Chapter 1
Thursday August 7, 5:03 PM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
My hand was on the light switch . . . ready to flip it off. But before I did,
I quickly scanned the room to make sure that I hadn't forgotten anything.
I paused for a moment as my eyes met the imposing machine that sat in
the center of the room; the sight of it involuntarily causing my mind to
shift gears . . . I began to daydream as I stared into the engraved stainless
steel plate at its base.
On it, there was simply one word . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S.
It was an acronym . . . short for "Genetic Encompassing & Neurological
Encoding Systems Imprinting Synthesizer."
G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was perhaps the government's biggest secret . . . an
ongoing project over the past decade, and the brainchild of the project's
supervisor . . . one Dr. Sam Westbrook. As for myself . . . I've been the
project's head computer programmer for over five years now, and have
seen over a billion spent on research and development . . . shit, this
facility alone was probably a couple hundred million! But considering
that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was probably the most significant medical /
technological advancement of this century . . . it was impossible to put a
price to its worth.
Simply put . . . we had invented a machine capable of scanning a
person's deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) structure and digitally encoding it
into our mainframe computer. Once a `pattern' had been stored (some 90
plus gigabytes of data), it could then be digitally manipulated and re-
imprinted over a patient's current DNA. Through a complex array of
computer programming & chemical induction . . . the subject's body is
`tricked' into accepting the new DNA information as it's own. Then,
through a rapid process of cellular regeneration . . . each cell in the body
alters itself to conform to the `new' DNA structure.
It was truly an astounding scientific achievement with countless ways in
which it could be utilized. A cancerous tumor could be `erased', broken
bones mended, hell . . . you want blue eyes instead of brown? . . . You
want to drop 25 pounds? No problem. We were a damn plastic
surgeon's dream!
But what was even more incredible was that we could digitally re-code
brain patterns. Effectively giving us the ability to alter the memories,
drives and instincts of a subject. The most hardened criminal could be
`re-coded' to be as passive as a lamb, thus allowing him/her to rejoin the
community as a productive member of society. As you can see, the
possibilities were endless. G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was simply . . . incredible.
With such a prestigious position for such an unbelievable project, you'd
think I'd be one of the happiest guys on the face of the earth . . . right?
But instead, my mind was filled with anger and disgust. Imagine . . .
dedicating years of your life toward something, thinking that you were
going to be helping people . . . and then one day finding out that you'd
been played for a fool.
A few weeks ago, while recovering some accidentally deleted files from
the network, I stumbled across the fragments of an e-mail addressed to
Dr. Westbrook . . . from the CIA!?? Although I tried to fight it, my
curiosity overtook me as I spent the next few hours reconstructing the
letter. What I looked at left me completely stunned. Dr. Westbrook, and
most of the project team, was actually part of the CIA!
Apparently, G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was to be commandeered after its final
`Beta' testing was complete in the next few weeks. The letter went on to
say that the five non-CIA team members represented a potential security
threat to the long-term viability of the project, as well as the United
States government. All non-secure team members would have to be `
Disposed Of ' at the appropriate time!!
My heart began to race wildly; they were going to kill us!
I quickly `scrubbed' the e-mail file and headed home as fast as I could to
make an attempt at sorting things out.
"The CIA! The fucking CIA!" I thought to myself. "And Westbrook?!!"
They knew from the get-go that what we were really developing was
some kind of `super-counterintelligence spy machine'. Armed with
G.E.N.E.S.I.S., the government would be almost unstoppable; able to
infiltrate anywhere in the world and . . . manipulate any situation. The
possibilities were truly frightening.
Unfortunately, my problems weren't any easier to solve by the time I got
home. I had been tricked, and even worse . . . my life was in danger.
There was no one that I could trust. I didn't know who the other four
`non-agents' were and couldn't risk trying to find out. Where could I
run? . . . Where could I hide? Surly they'd find me.
And then, out of the clear blue . . . it hit me. I had a plan!
"Hey Dave!" a voice called out impatiently from the next room. "You
just gonna stand there and daydream all night . . . or are we gonna get the
hell outta here? You know traffic's a bitch if we don't leave by quarter
after."
His voice quickly snapped me out of my trance-like state.
"Yeah, yeah . . . I know. Sorry . . . I was just doing some thinking" I
shot back. Grabbing my briefcase, I hit the light switch and headed out
the door with Jim.
Chapter 2
Friday August 16 (one week later), 8:12 PM
My Apartment
"Hello" I said as I picked up the ringing telephone.
"Mr. David Freeman?" a deep voice with a thick accent asked.
"Yes" I said.
"Tomorrow . . . 7:30 PM . . . at the wooden bench near the pond on the
East Side of Northridge Park. Come alone. You will be watched."
Before I could even respond, I heard a click. The phone line was dead.
The next day seemed to take forever as I had second thoughts about my
meeting that evening. I couldn't believe that I was actually going to go
through with this, but since I was the one who originally contacted them .
. . I had no choice now but to follow through.
Finally . . . the end of the day arrived. As I drove to the park, I began to
get nervous thinking about whether or not I had made the right decision.
But then I remembered that my own country . . . the goddamn CIA had
already double-crossed me. So why feel bad? It was simply time to get
even!!
As I approached the bench, I saw the back of a man's head; most of it
obscured by a large dark hat. I took a deep breath as I rounded the
corner; and without making eye contact . . . quickly sat down.
"Hello" I started to say as I attempted to initiate a handshake.
"Mr. Freeman I presume" he grumbled.
"Yes, I'm Freeman" I said as I pulled back my hand.
"There is not much time comrade," he said. "Here, in this envelope, you
will find everything you need."
I reached out and took the heavily padded envelope.
"Our agreement still stands?" I asked.
"Yes" he said as he reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette.
"Things are as they were agreed to. You will turn over to us the
`blueprints' for the machine you call G.E.N.E.S.I.S., and we in turn . . .
will pay you $150,000,000 U.S. dollars . . . in cash. That is of course,
that you can prove that this machine of yours actually does what you say
it will."
"It does!" I snapped back. "It does . . . you'll see."
"For your sake . . . I hope so." He said with skepticism. "Comrade."
I clutched the envelope tightly and got up to leave.
"It's been a pleasure." I stated calmly.
"Good evening Mr. Freeman." He responded with a tip of his hat.
With that, I turned and walked away.
Back at my apartment, I flipped on the dining room light and sat down at
the table. I slowly opened up the envelope and poured its contents onto
the hard wood table. Out came some papers, and a small device.
"So" I said inquisitively. "That's what you look like."
I held the paper-thin device up to get a better look. To the naked eye,
nobody would ever think it was anything other than the credit card that it
appeared to be. As I gave it the once over, I found it hard to believe that
this was actually a tiny recording device. If it performed as advertised, it
was capable of recording the strokes of a computer keyboard for up to 20
consecutive hours.
As long as it went undetected, that would be more than enough.
Chapter 3
Monday August 18, 6:35 AM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
Getting into the complex for work Monday morning went off without a
hitch. I arrived about an hour early and made my way through all of the
security checkpoints . . . no problem. With the keystroke recorder
looking like my `gold' credit card and it's attachment wire stuffed into a
ballpoint pen, no one suspected a thing.
Once inside the lab, I made my way to my office. There I pulled off the
top to my pen and dumped two small wires & a metal collar onto the
desk. I quickly clipped the wires to the magnetic strip on the back of the
`credit card' with a couple of paper clips. I then twisted the frayed ends
of the wires around the tiny metal collar.
"You'd better work," I thought to myself as I gave it a final inspection.
With my heat beating frantically, I made my way out into the lab. After
a quick look around to make sure that the coast was clear, I made my
way over to the terminal that Dr. Westbrook usually used to interface
with the main-frame computer system. I hurriedly turned over the
keyboard and allowed the magnetic backing of the `recorder' to attach
itself. I then took the small metal `collar' and twisted it around the
plastic sheathing that surrounded the wires running from the keyboard to
the computer system. Once assured that the `collar' had made positive
contact with the copper wires in the cord, I flipped the keyboard back
over and straightened everything back up.
The day passed slowly. Fear of getting caught, kept me from being able
to concentrate on anything else. I kept eyeing the terminal . . . hoping
that Dr. Westbrook would use it. Finally around 2:30 PM, it happened.
The doctor spent about an hour doing some work . . . I prayed that it
would be enough.
After telling Jim that I needed to work a little late, I managed to make
myself the last one to leave. Once alone, I quickly grabbed the recorder
and stuffed it back into my wallet. I gathered my things and took off as
fast as I could.
Later that evening, I printed out the recordings of the small device. After
looking through some 100 pages of keystrokes, I finally hit the jackpot.
"Yes!!" I yelled as I wrote down Dr. Westbrook's primary access
password.
"Alright doctor" I grumbled to myself. "It's payback time!"
Chapter 4
Friday August 29 (one week & a half later), 7:45 AM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
Barring some unforeseen event . . . today would be the day. I knew that
with the holiday coming up, a lot of people would be taking off right at
five o'clock . . . eager to get a jump on the long Labor Day weekend. If
things went as usual, Dr. Westbrook would be sticking around an extra
hour or so . . . working late . . . just like every other day.
Things went just as planned. Quitting time came and everybody headed
for the parking lot. By about 5:15 PM, Dr. Westbrook and I were the
only two left.
About a fifteen minutes later, the doctor walked by and noticed me
working in my office. "Oh, Hi Dave. I didn't know anyone else was still
here."
"Yeah . . . still here" I said with a sigh. "I just wanted to get these
algorithms ironed out before the weekend started. Anyone else here? Or
is it just us diehards?"
With a laugh the doctor responded "No . . . just us people without a
social life!"
After almost a half-hour, my opportunity finally came. I saw Dr.
Westbrook head over to the restroom. I quickly got up and scurried over
to where the doctor was sitting. There I pulled a small capsule out of my
pocket and cracked it open. Being careful so as not to spill any, I
dumped its contents into the doctor's open soft drink can. It fizzed just a
bit; then quickly subsided.
I turned and nonchalantly headed back to my office. Just as I got there, I
heard the sound of the restroom door opening.
I was told that the white-powdered chemical would work quickly; not
giving the victim enough time to realize that they'd been drugged, nor call
for help. I continually glanced out of my office to see if anything had
happened. And then . . . all of the sudden . . . I heard a loud thud. I
rushed out of the office and saw Dr. Westbrook sprawled out on the
floor.
I quickly ran over.
"Doctor??" I said in a concerned tone. "Dr. Westbrook? Are you
alright?" There was no response.
As I bent down and rolled the doctor over, it was clear that the `knockout
drops' provided by my `friends' had done their work quite nicely.
"All right Davie boy" I said to myself. Just keep your fingers crossed
that everything else goes just as smoothly."
I made sure that the room was locked and then proceeded to drag the
good doctor across the room.
"Damn you're heavy" I groaned aloud.
In front of me was the security console that allowed access into the `Main
Interface Room'. The door required a level 10 security clearance to
open, and was always ordered sealed anytime that Dr. Westbrook was
not present. Since I was only a level 7, my security card just wasn't
going to do the trick.
Enter . . . my unconscious friend.
I gently slid the doctor's access card into the slot on the reader next to the
door.
After a brief moment, a synthesized computer voice acknowledged my
presence.
"SECURITY CARD ACCEPTED."
"IDENTIFICATION . . . POSITIVE."
"DR. WESTBROOK."
"PLEASE PLACE HAND ON SCANNER FOR FINGERPRINT
IDENTIFICATION."
"PRESS ENTER WHEN READY"
I awkwardly positioned the doctor's right hand on the glass plate and
then pressed the `enter' key.
I closed my eyes as a bright green light scanned back and forth; very
similar to the way a photocopy machine worked.
"FINGERPRINT IDENTIFICATION . . . POSITIVE."
"PLEASE PLACE HEAD ON CHIN-REST FOR FACIAL
CAPILLARY IDENTIFICATION."
"PRESS ENTER WHEN READY"
It took a lot of struggling, but I finally managed to get the doctor's head
positioned correctly. Then, with the press of a button, the machine was
once again scanning the doctor's limp body. The bright light made the
doctor's skin almost seem transparent as the tiny blood vessels of the face
were compared to the security record file.
"CAPILLARY IDENTIFICATION . . . POSITIVE."
"PLEASE ENTER 16 DIGIT PRIMARY ACCESS NUMBER"
I typed in from memory, the number that I had pirated the other day.
"ACCESS NUMBER . . . ACCEPTED."
I heard a click as the pressure seal on the door in front of me released. I
grabbed the handle and opened it. I dragged the doctor in and closed the
door behind me. When I turned around, my heart began to pound.
I knew that it was time.
Chapter 5
Friday August 29, 6:12 PM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
The room was quite familiar to me. In fact, I had spent almost as much
time in here as I did back at my desk . . . although none of it was
unsupervised.
I once again used the doctor's body as a human `passport' to clear the
security console at the G.E.N.E.S.I.S. interface terminal.
"LOGIN SUCCESSFUL"
"GOOD EVENING DR. WESTBROOK."
"Alright" I said as I took a deep breath.
I quickly started to scan through the database . . . making sure that I had
everything that I needed. Once I found it all, I gave a huge sigh of relief
and turned my attention toward the scanner adjacent to where I was
standing. I programmed it to perform a complete genetic body scan . . .
"ENTER PRIMARY ACCESS NUMBER TO INITIATE AUTO-
SCAN SEQUENCE"
I entered the stolen number once again.
"AUTO-SCANNING SEQUENCE TO INITIATE IN TWO
MINUTES"
I stripped off my clothes and laid down on a large, clear acrylic table that
was suspended by two steel supports at its top and bottom. Wrapped
around the table was the actual scanning device. It was approximately
eight feet in diameter, and frankly . . . resembled a giant white donut.
When activated, it would sweep up and down the table a number of times
to create a 3-dimensional, genetic imprint of the patient.
I checked a couple of settings, and got myself into position. The scanner
quickly sensed my body and made an initial sweep to determine the
`limits' of its scan.
"AUTO-SCANNING SEQUENCE TO INITIATE IN THIRTY
SECONDS"
"WARNING . . . PATIENT MUST REMAIN STILL FOR
DURATION OF SCAN"
As the computer counted down, I closed my eyes and tried to relax.
"3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . INITIATING"
>From above and below, the interior ring of the scanner projected a neon
red laser grid across my body. Then, as if attached to an axle, the
scanner began to turn about the table like a giant bicycle tire. It moved
back and forth several times while emitting an eerie bright blue light that
caused the entire room to glow.
After nearly forty-five minutes, the machine stopped.
"AUTO-SCAN COMPLETE"
"VERIFYING SCAN INTEGRITY"
Pause
"SCAN INTEGRITY . . . POSITIVE"
I was relieved that everything went all right and proceeded to get dressed.
I did a quick check of the doctor and was relieved to see that the chemical
substance was continuing to work as promised.
Once back at the terminal, I began to program G.E.N.E.S.I.S. to create
the two chemical serums that I needed. The first, created from the
genetic scan that I had just performed on myself. And the second, from
the mainframe's stored pattern of Dr. Westbrook. Both serums were
generated to initiate physical genetic changes only . . . no mental or
emotional changes were included.
In about thirty minutes, two small vials of iridescent green liquid were
ready. I held them up to the light and marveled at the technological
wonder that I was holding. I was careful not to mix them up . . . tagged
them . . . and set them down in a specially designed storage rack.
I turned again to the keyboard and typed a few more commands into the
computer . . .
A moment later . . . the computer responded once more.
"BINDING MATRIX PREPARED"
"STEP INSIDE CHAMBER AND CLOSE DOOR COMPLETELY TO
INITIATE MATRIX INDUCTION"
After managing to get both the unconscious doctor and myself into the
glass chamber, I turned and closed the door tightly behind me. The
rubber seals around it made a squishing sound as it locked into it's closed
position. A fan from above kicked in and supplied fresh oxygen to the
tight space.
"BINDING MATRIX DISPERSAL COMMENCING"
I stood there and watched several dozen tiny nozzles spray a fine stream
of pink mist into the air. My lungs burned ever so slightly as I inhaled
the thick fog. Soon the chamber was completely filled; as I looked down,
I could barely make out Dr. Westbrook's silhouette on the floor.
The air felt cool and damp . . . almost as if standing outside on a humid
fall day. After the five-minute ingestion period was over, an exhaust fan
turned on and sucked the dense mist out of the chamber through the thin
slats in the stainless steel floor.
"INDUCTION COMPLETE"
"OPEN DOOR TO RELEASE AIRLOCK"
I did so and quickly stepped out; relieved to take a deep breath of fresh
air. After a moment, I pulled the doctor back out and went over to the
storage rack where I had placed the two vials.
My heat began to beat frantically as I got ready to take the last step.
"Well . . . here goes nothing!" I said as I prepared to give myself a shot
of the formula intended for me. After doing so, I paused for a second . . .
praying that what I was doing was all going to work out.
I next found another syringe and injected the doctor with the contents of
the second vial.
A chill ran up my spine as I realized that there was no turning back now.
It was done.
After composing myself, I walked over to a nearby desk and dialed a
number that was given to me by `Ivan' (my nickname for my eastern
block friend). As instructed, I hung up after two rings. They would meet
me in 30 minutes at the corner of Baker & Elm St.
Chapter 6
Friday August 29, 8:07 PM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
"Wake up . . . wake up" I said as I shook the doctor.
It was taking a few minutes, but the special smelling salts given to me
were seemingly bringing the doctor back to consciousness.
"Come on . . . that's it. Time to wake up".
After several tries at keeping the doctor's eyes open, they finally focused
on my face.
"Dave? What . . . why did you . . . what's going on?"
I gave the doctor a cold stare and said, "Because you and your CIA
buddies sold me out. This whole thing's been nothing but a lie. I
believed in you . . ."
"But . . . how did you know I was with the CIA?" the doctor interrupted.
"I found the fragments of an old e-mail file that you deleted. It was very
enlightening." I said sarcastically. "I especially like the part where I'm
just supposed to `disappear'! That was a nice touch"
"Please Dave . . . let me try to explain."
"I don't think so doctor," I said. "Besides, I have something a little more
important to tell you. Now listen . . . and listen good. I've injected you
with a very toxic poison. If you don't get a shot of the antidote within 60
minutes . . . you'll be dead."
Dr. Westbrook was completely speechless.
"So if you want to live, I'd suggest you do everything that I say. First
we're going to get out of here. You're going to act completely natural as
we leave the building. If you pull anything at any of the security
checkpoints . . . I'll leave you to die. Got it!?"
"Yes" the doctor said meekly.
"No strange looks at the security cameras . . . no tying to signal guards . .
. no nothing. Were just both going to walk out of here like it was any
other night of the week. Nice and easy."
I helped the doctor stand up.
"After getting out to the parking lot, we'll both just get into our cars and
take off like normal. I want you to follow me . . . in about 20 minutes
well be meeting up with a fellow who will give you the anecdote that you
need. Just remember . . . don't pull anything funny . . . don't try to speed
off to the hospital or police . . . because there's no way that anybody's
going to be able to figure out what the hell I gave you. You'd be dead
before they could even send your blood to the lab for an analysis. Your
only chance is to do exactly what I'm telling you. Got it?"
"I'll do what you say," the doctor said softly.
We shut things down and headed off to the parking lot. Things went
smoothly as the doctor did everything that I instructed. Shortly, we
pulled up at the designated rendezvous point. There was a black Cadillac
waiting for us on the opposite side of the street.
As we approached it two men stepped out. The driver's window began to
roll down; `Ivan' gave me a cold smile.
Before anyone could even blink, the two men were forcibly shoving Dr.
Westbrook into the backseat.
`Ivan' turned to me and said, "If things go as you say they will . . . I will
meet you back here at 9:00 PM on Sunday night. We will discuss things
further then."
I nodded my head in agreement.
>From the back seat I heard Dr. Westbrook shout "Dave! Where's the
anecdote! What's going on!"
"Easy doctor . . . easy." I said. "There was NO poison. I made it all up
to get you to cooperate with me. You're gonna be just fine."
"You fucking piece of garbage!" the doctor yelled. I swear to God you'll
pay for this! Whatever you're doing, you'll never get away with it!"
"Don't be so sure of it doctor," I said. "You'd be surprised what a little
`genetic cocktail' can do to help somebody get away with something. I
don't think anybody's going to suspect anything's out of the ordinary at
all."
"What have you done with G.E.N.E.S.I.S.!" the doctor demanded.
"You'll find out soon enough . . . you'll find out soon enough."
I nodded my head to `Ivan' and said, "Sunday at 9:00PM . . . I'll be
here."
With that I turned and walked back toward the cars. One of the men
from the back seat got out and intercepted me.
"You'll take the doctor's car," he said. "We'll take care of yours."
"Alright" I said as we exchanged keys.
I got into the doctor's Lexus and started up the engine. I wasn't really
sure of where to go for the next couple of days until the changes were
complete. But, I knew that I couldn't risk being seen around here . . . so
I decided to drive until something hit me. I ended up in a Hilton hotel in
the suburbs of Arlington. I checked in under a false name, and using
cash . . . paid for my two-night stay in advance.
"You'll be in room 807 Mr. Johnson. Have a nice stay," the receptionist
said.
"Thank you" I responded.
As the elevator began to ascend, it stopped on the third floor for someone
else to enter. In stepped an attractive young girl dressed to go out for the
evening. As she walked in, I noticed they way her wide hips caused her
butt to sway . . . the way her breasts bounced ever so slightly as she
walked.
"Good evening" I said.
"Hello" she responded with a slight smile.
As I admired her seductive form from across the cab, my stomach began
to churn; I started to get scared. I couldn't help but wonder if it was the
first stages of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. beginning to alter my body. I began to feel
sick at the thought of what was going to happen to me . . . over the next
36 hours . . . I would become the genetic double of Dr. Sam Westbrook .
. . Dr. Sam(antha) Westbrook . . . a woman!
The `chime' of the elevator doors opening brought mind back to the
present. I got off on the eighth floor and found my way to my room.
After getting ready for bed, I flipped on the TV in an effort to get my
mind off things . . . but it was of no use. I was just too geared up.
So I flipped off the lights . . . figuring that the darkness would help me
fall asleep. But as I lay there, my mind could only think about `the plan'
. . . I was still in shock that I had the guts to go through with it. As I
closed my eyes in an effort to drift off to sleep, my mind went over every
detail . . .
In short, my intent was to scuttle the whole project. If they weren't going
to use it to help people . . . then they weren't going to have it at all!
Screw the CIA! But don't worry . . . `Ivan' wasn't going to get it either.
All I was really after was a way to avoid being killed by the CIA; it just
so happened that my plan had a couple of side benefits . . . justice &
good old . . . hard . . . cold cash!!
I had made a deal to turn an electronic blueprint of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. over
to a former Soviet power; in turn, they would give me $150,000,000
(broken into two payments after meeting specific criteria along the way).
First, I had to convince them that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was the real deal. They
were certainly leery about my claims . . . but I had no problem
understanding their skepticism. If I were in their shoes, I'd want some
tangible proof before I dropped that kind of change.
Second, I was to give them the `blueprints' and specifications for the
whole project; thus collecting the fist half of my compensation.
Later . . . once a working prototype was constructed from my
information, I'd receive the second half of my $150,000,000.
It took days of thought . . . but the details of how to pull this off finally
came to me. They wanted proof that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was for real, and I
needed a way to duplicate G.E.N.E.S.I.S. onto DVD's without drawing
suspicion to myself. So I came up with the idea of using G.E.N.E.S.I.S.
to swap bodies with Dr. Westbrook; in a sense . . . killing two birds with
one stone.
After giving Dr. Westbrook a dose of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. serum, I'd turn her
over to `Ivan' and let her morph (right in front of his eyes) into a physical
duplicate of myself. They say, "seeing is believing" . . . so what better
way to illustrate the capabilities of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. than with an actual
demonstration!
As for me . . . I would turn myself into Dr. Westbrook . . . giving myself
full access to the entire project's database. In her body, I'd be able to
operate completely without suspicion; taking my time to secretly plant
multiple computer viruses that would that would destroy the CIA's
G.E.N.E.S.I.S. database forever.
But before I did so . . . I'd use G.E.N.E.S.I.S. to create another `serum'
for myself; a kind of `escape plan' if you will. Then after giving my
`comrades' a corrupted DVD blueprint of G.E.N.E.S.I.S., I'd use it to
give myself another identity and make a getaway to some remote tropical
island with my $75,000,000. By the time they realized that I'd pulled a
fast one . . . I'd be long gone & G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would be destroyed
forever!
It was a perfect plan . . . I had gone over every detail a thousand times in
my head. I had thought of every fault . . . every angle. It was simply
flawless. Not only would I be able to live out my life in luxury, but also
the world would be a safer place for my intervention.
Chapter 7
Saturday August 30, 10:56 AM
The Arlington Hilton
I awoke drained the next morning; it was one of the most horrible night's
sleep that I'd ever had. I tossed and turned all night long as chills and a
constant nausea kept me from resting. It seemed that if I wasn't curled
up in bed with the sweats . . . I was either sitting on the toilet, or kneeling
in front of it. It was simply awful.
As I made my way to the bathroom to throw up once more, I was taken
by my hollowed reflection in the mirror. I couldn't believe it. I must
have lost some 50 pounds . . . and by the looks of it, about six inches as
well.
"Oh God" I gasped as my hands clutched my face. It was then that it all
kicked in . . . I began to shake. Up until now, the entire plan seemed so
easy to go through with . . . but now with my body actually changing, I
became scared.
"What have I done! What have I done!" I thought.
After laying down for a couple of more hours, the nausea & diarrhea
seemed to subside. I decided to take a shower and get cleaned up. The
warm water felt wonderful as it flowed over my aching body. The
sensations of washing and feeling the changes in my body were almost
surreal. I felt so thin . . . so lightweight as I noticed that most of my
muscle mass had disappeared.
After drying off, I decided to get dressed and head downstairs to grab a
bite to eat . . . I was simply starving.
As I put my clothes on, it wasn't a surprise to see how loose they were. I
looked like a little kid wearing his dad's stuff. So I rolled up my pant
legs, tucked in my shirt & tightened my belt to make the best out of an
awkward situation. I stared in the mirror and noticed that my sandy
colored hair had darkened and grown out an inch or two. I slicked it
back with some water and took off for downstairs.
After eating enough for almost two people, I paid and began to head back
to the room. As I passed by the restrooms in the lobby, I decided to make
a quick pit stop. I pushed open the men's room door and almost hit
another guy who was leaving at the same time.
"Excuse m . . . " my voice cracked in a higher octave. A look of surprise
overtook my face as I hastily pushed my way past the startled man. As I
made my way toward the urinals, a couple of other men gave me some
strange looks. While passing the mirror, I took a quick glance at my
reflection.
"Shit!" I thought. I looked even worse. My hair was another inch longer
and starting to fall to the sides around my face. I looked well . . . softer.
And with my smaller stature, it was no wonder that these guys were
staring. Frankly, it was starting to get difficult to tell whether I was male
or female. But when I bellied up to one of the urinals . . . it seemed to
squelch their curiosity as they went about their way without concern.
My heart began to beat quicker as I noticed yet another change. My
penis was completely numb! It was still the same size, but I couldn't feel
a thing . . . only the strange sensation of urine flowing through a part of
my body that seemed disconnected. I quickly reached down and grabbed
my balls . . . they too seemed desensitized as I gave them a little squeeze
to initiate some pain. Nothing but a little twinge.
When finished, I hurriedly zipped up my oversized pants and headed back
out to the lobby.
It was there that I noticed a little boutique with some clothing in the
window. I made a quick stop and picked up a navy blue jogging suit with
a white tee shirt & a pair of sandals. After holding them up to my body .
. . I decided that a `men's small' would be about right.
"Hopefully this shit will fit me a little better," I thought as I dumped them
on the counter.
"Hello, how are you . . ." my voice cracked.
The man gave me a strange look and then proceeded to ring up the sale.
I quickly grabbed the bag from him and made my way out of the shop . . .
completely embarrassed.
Once back in my room, I decided that another nap was in order. I had
hardly been awake for two hours, but was completely exhausted.
Chapter 8
Saturday August 30, 5:34 PM
The Arlington Hilton
I awoke some three hours later. As I looked out of the window, the sun
was starting to set.
"God, I feel like . . ." I started to say as the sound of my voice stopped
me in mid-sentence.
"Jesus . . . I sound like . . . a girl!" I gasped.
My hands reached up to clutch my throat. It was tight . . . sore; my
Adam's Apple was almost gone!
After regaining my composure. My grumbling stomach once again told
me that I needed some food.
"My metabolism must be going nuts," I thought as I casually brushed a
strand of hair out of my eye.
I got up and grabbed the bag of clothes that I had purchased earlier. I
dumped them onto the bed and began to get undressed. First my pants . .
. then my shirt.
"Holy shit!" I gasped as I fell back onto the bed in shock.
I looked down and couldn't believe what I saw. I was growing tits!
There before my very eyes . . . were most definitely two sprouting
breasts.
I slowly lifted my hands to touch them; hoping that when they reached
their destination . . . it would only be a dream.
But instead . . . they found a soft fleshiness that was foreign to the touch.
After sitting there in shock and staring at them for a few minutes, my
empty stomach reminded me of my ongoing hunger. I got up and finished
getting dressed.
When finished, I wandered over to the mirror to take a look.
What stared back was a completely androgynous figure! Half man . . .
half woman. My heart raced with fear.
In an effort to hang onto manhood for as long as possible . . . I ran to the
bathroom to once again slick back my hair. After completely wetting it, I
was able to get it to lay tight to my head.
As I gazed at my reflection, I wished that I'd bought a `medium' sized
shirt. The `small' that I had bought was clinging ever so tightly to my
bony ribcage . . . emphasizing even more so the two fleshy mounds
growing on my chest. In a ridiculous display of desperation, I tried to
push them back into my body . . . but all I managed to do was cause my
thickening nipples to harden . . . making them stand out even more.
I disgustedly grabbed the jacket top to my outfit and zipped it up over my
budding adolescent breasts.
"Well I guess it's not too bad," I thought as I tried to convince myself
that I still looked male before heading out the door.
I once again found myself eating a ton of food in the hotel's restaurant. I
was continually reminded of my predicament as people hesitated before
calling me `sir'.
I slowly began to realize that my `male masquerade' was all but over.
"I'll be right back with the check . . . Ma'am" the waitress said as she
cleared my plate.
I sat there for a moment . . . stunned by being addressed for the first time
as female.
While I waited for the check, I got up to use the restroom. Once there, I
hesitated at the entrances . . . trying to decide which one to use.
A man exited the men's room.
"Uh . . . excuse me . . . uh . . . miss," he said while giving me an
awkward look.
That did it . . . I had no choice. I turned and opened the door to the
women's room. I paused for a moment, unzipped my jacket, and
swallowed hard as I began to turn the corner through the entrance
vestibule.
My pulse quickened as I looked up to see several women before me.
They casually glanced over; feeling that someone new was entering the
room.
I saw a couple of them stare inquisitively at me . . . trying to decide if I
was male or female. One woman obviously felt threatened as she started
to say "Get the h . . . " before she noticed the small, familiar shapes
pushing through my tight tee-shirt.
"Oh dear . . . I'm so sorry" she said while looking completely
embarrassed.
I gave her a slight smile a hurriedly made my way to an empty stall. As I
did so, the other woman went about their business without any concern.
Once inside the stall, I unzipped my pants and just about started to
urinate, when it dawned on me that I'd better not `do it' standing up . . .
or else I'd really cause a scene. So I quickly grabbed some toilet paper .
. . lined the seat . . . and sat down to urinate.
Just as I did so, the stall door next to me opened and closed. I heard the
sounds of someone going through the same ritual that I had just
performed. While sitting there, I was clearly able to see the high-heeled
shoes of the woman in the stall next to me. She turned around as I
watched a pair of pantyhose fall around her ankles . . . then, a white lace
pair of panties.
As I listened to the sounds of her going to the bathroom . . . my mind
raced at the voyeuristic scene that I was living. Under normal
circumstances, I would have had a raging hard-on. But as I looked down
. . . there wasn't even a twitch in the diminutive penis that hung limply
between my legs.
After gradually coming to grips with my slipping manhood, I finished my
business and headed back to the table to pay my bill. After doing so, I
once again returned to my room . . . there, I stripped down to my boxers
and got into bed to watch some TV. A couple of hours later, I drifted off
to sleep . . . fearful of what changes awaited me in the morning.
Chapter 9
Sunday August 31, 10:21 AM
The Arlington Hilton
I awoke to the brightness of the sunlight streaming into my room. I rolled
over and squinted at the clock radio in an effort to make out the time.
After I pushed the hair out of my face, I was able to see that it was
almost . . .
"Hair?!"
I sat up with a jolt as everything came back to me in a flash . . . the
bouncing sensation on my chest making it all that much clearer.
"Holy shit!" I gasped in a completely different octave.
I looked down and saw a full size set of breasts. I grabbed them in
wonder; allowing their full weight to rest in the palms of my hands.
I began to touch them, but my nails only got in the way.
"Nails?!"
They seemed so long . . . so foreign. As I held them up to take a closer
look, I was amazed at how delicate my hands had become. My forearms
so . . .
My heart pounded as I sprung up and headed into the bathroom. As I
turned on the light and gazed into the mirror, I saw the most peculiar
sight. The body of someone else . . . moving just as I was moving . . .
mimicking my facial expressions. It was a scene right out of The
Twilight Zone.
Dr. Westbrook, or shall I say . . . "I" was a fairly attractive woman.
Late thirties . . . about 5'-6" and 130 pounds . . . a good figure, but
nothing spectacular.
With hazel eyes and shoulder length auburn hair, her . . . "my" . . . face
was definitely above average; perhaps a 6 or 7 on a scale of 1 to 10.
"Well one thing's for sure Doc," I said aloud as I gazed back down to my
chest. "You've got a nice little set of knockers here!"
I once again began to fondle them; I was simply amazed at the new
sensations. The feeling of weight jiggling on my once flat chest was
indescribable. I grabbed my thick nipples and began to roll them around
fingertips. They felt so big . . . so strange . . . so sensitive.
I then reached down and began to pull down my boxers; what awaited me
was no surprise. I'd seen many pussies before in my life . . . just not one
from this view!
I slowly started moving my hand toward the dark patch of pubic hair that
covered my empty crotch. As my fingers began to make there way down
my smooth stomach . . . through my pubic hair . . . and to . . .
"Oh my God" I said softly as my fingers worked their way into a warm
slit between my legs.
After a little more bodily exploration, I managed to snap myself out of it
and refocus on what was to transpire later today.
"Alright Dave . . . pull yourself together here. We've got a big day
ahead," I said to myself in the mirror.
"In a few days, you're gonna be a millionaire . . . and soon enough . . .
you'll be able to get the hell out of this body! But for now, you're just
going to have to grin and bear it".
It was time to head back to the city . . . time to take care of business.
>From this moment on . . . I knew the masquerade was on!
Chapter 10
Sunday August 31, 3:16 PM
Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C.
The doctor's home was absolutely beautiful. With high ceilings, rich
woodwork, and oak floors, it was obvious that she was well paid. I gave
myself a little self-guided tour, and then spent the rest of the afternoon
rifling through the doctor's papers in her den. I was looking for anything
I could to help shed some light on this whole CIA stuff . . . but
unfortunately, there wasn't a shred of anything useful to be found.
I did however find some old journals where the doctor had recorded much
of her early research and theories on human genetics. It was fascinating
reading . . . before I knew it, I was completely immersed.
Some time later . . . I glanced down at my watch.
"Shit!" I chirped. "7:30 . . . gotta get ready!"
I quickly closed the books and scurried upstairs to get ready for my
appointment.
Up in her bedroom, I looked through her closet for some clothes to
change into. I grabbed a casual dress and tossed it onto the bed as I
made my way over to her dresser.
I swallowed hard as I pulled open a couple of drawers in search of some
underwear to put on first. The third time proved the charm as her
lingerie drawer slid open before me. An assortment of panties and bras
were neatly arranged in several rows. It turned my stomach to think
about wearing any of this stuff, but unfortunately, I had no choice. I
searched for the least feminine ones I could find . . . unfortunately, none
were conservative enough for my taste.
The feeling of the thin, tight cotton panties hugging my new form was
quite different to me. I gazed into the mirror to take in the sight . . .
turning sideways to catch a view from behind.
I next slipped my arms into her bra. I pulled the soft cups over my
dangling breasts and reached around to attempt to get it hooked. After a
couple of attempts, I managed to do it.
"Finally" I said in relief. "What a pain in the ass to have to do that all of
the time!"
The tight panties felt strange, but the bra was even worse. The sensation
of something snug around my chest was most uncomfortable.
"How the hell do women put up with these!" I said as I turned back to the
bed.
There I slipped on her dress and zipped it up.
Before I knew it, I had finished dressing . . . was in my car and on my
way.
I was speeding along to make my 9:00 PM appointment, when I rounded
a corner and noticed of sea of taillights backed up from the Washington
Bridge.
"Shit!" I exclaimed as I glanced at the dashboard clock. It read 8:35 PM.
"Damn it" I said impatiently as my car slowed to a crawl.
There wasn't enough time to try a different way . . . I'd have to wait it
out.
I continually glanced at the clock . . . my impatience seemingly making
the time go by even faster. Finally, I approached the problem.
There was a mass of flashing lights from at about the midpoint of the
bridge.
"Must have been an accident," I thought as I again checked the time.
Fortunately, the police kept the gawkers moving as the two lanes merged
to one. As I passed, I took a quick glance myself . . . but I couldn't see a
thing.
"Must have cleaned it up already," I thought as I accelerated back to full
speed.
It was close, but I managed to arrive only a couple of minutes late. The
familiar Cadillac was sitting on the opposite side of the street with its
lights off. I parked . . . took a deep breath . . . and got out of the car.
As I crossed the street, the men began to emerge from their vehicle.
"Good evening Doctor Westbrook," `Ivan' said with a smirk on his face.
"You look utterly lovely tonight."
I gave him a small, but annoyed smile.
"Let's just get to the point," I said firmly. "As you can tell by looking at
me . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. is everything that I said it would be. I assume
that what you saw happen to Dr. Westbrook over the weekend was
equally impressive . . . and certainly enough proof for you to see the
value in what you're buying?"
"Absolutely," `Ivan' said with a smile while checking me out. "It was
simply astonishing!"
I happened to notice that the backseat of the car was empty.
"Where's the doctor?" I asked curiously.
`Ivan' shrugged his shoulders and said, "Let's just say . . . she couldn't
make it this evening."
"What do you mean . . . couldn't make it!" I quipped. "What are you
talking about?!"
"The doctor is of no concern to you," `Ivan' smiled. "You just take care
of your part of the bargain."
"Look", I said. "This wasn't part of the deal . . . you told me you'd turn
her back over to me once you had your proof . . . you said that . . ."
"Silence", he said sternly. "We had a change of plans. You just hold up
your end of things . . . or else we may have a change of plans for you as
well!"
I shook my head in agreement slowly.
"Very good," he said. "Just to make sure that you don't have any second
thoughts about fulfilling you obligation . . . you will be under
surveillance by my men until you turn over the `blueprints' to
G.E.N.E.S.I.S."
"There won't be any problems," I said calmly as I tried to conceal my
anger.
"We expect delivery by the end of the week . . . doctor," he said.
"I'll let you know if I get it sooner," I responded.
"Then we are done. Good evening . . . Doctor Westbrook."
I turned and quickly headed back to the doctor's car, scared to death of
what could happen to me if I failed. As I started the car and began to
pull away, a pair of headlights of another car flipped on. I was being
followed.
Once back at the doctor's brownstone, I scurried inside and quickly
locked the doors behind me. I went to a nearby window and peered
outside . . . "Still there" I mumbled to myself.
I paced nervously for a while regretting what I had gotten myself into. I
was afraid if I didn't play my cards correctly, everything could get
screwed up. I needed to rethink things. It was obvious that `Ivan' was
going to be a handful.
Chapter 11
Monday September 1 (Labor Day), 8:00 AM
Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C.
Morning came quickly as the sound of the clock radio jarred me from my
sound sleep. I awoke slowly until a news report struck a nerve . . .
"Last nights fatal accident at the Washington Bridge still has authorities
baffled. Police are still searching for the vehicle that struck an innocent
motorist . . . causing the driver to loose control, break through the
guardrail, and plunge to his death in the river below. David Freeman, 35
of Washington D.C., was pronounced dead on arrival at . . ."
All at once every nerve in my body clicked into overdrive.
"David Freeman!!!" I yelled. "That's me!! . . . or . . . I mean Dr.
Westbrook!!! Jesus Christ!! They killed her!!!"
I slumped to the floor and buried my face between my hands. As I sat
there trying to make sense of it all, the harsh truth about what had really
happened began to sink in.
"Oh my God! They didn't kill Dr. Westbrook . . . they killed me!!! The
world thinks I'm dead!!"
I couldn't believe it . . . they had erased my life. My head began to spin .
. . what was I going to do?! I was dead . . . how could I ever change back
into my old body? I was trapped . . . or was I?!
"No . . . they're not going to win this game . . . I won't let them."
I pulled the curtains aside and glanced out the window . . . the
surveillance car was still parked there.
"We'll see who's smarter . . . we'll see!" I said as I closed the drapes in
anger.
It was time for a shift in plans.
I spent the entire day scheming . . . and by the time I went to bed that
night, I was sure that I had everything back under control.
Chapter 12
Thursday September 4 (a few days later), 5:52 PM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
The past few days had gone even better than I'd anticipated. When I
walked into the Lab on Tuesday morning, I felt as if every eye in the
place could spot something wrong. I felt for sure that they could see
right through me . . . but after a while, my fears subsided. No one
suspected a thing as I easily passed for the real Dr. Westbrook. The
strangest part of the week had been dealing with the news about David
Freeman's (my) death. It was so eerie listening to others talk about me in
the past tense. I tried to act natural . . . but it was difficult. At times, I
had to step away from it all and take a break. But through it all, I
managed to stay focused and had accomplished most of my goals.
First and foremost . . . I had managed to plant a series of sophisticated
program viruses deep within the G.E.N.E.S.I.S. database using Dr.
Westbrook's security clearance to access sensitive areas. At precisely
midnight, during Saturday night's scheduled daily backup,
G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would corrupt itself by overwriting & scrambling it's
own programming. Even better, all the archives & saved backups for the
entire project would also be corrupted. By the time anyone could even
react to the program alarms . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would be reduced to an
irrecoverable pile of bits & bytes. In less than 15 minutes, the whole
project would be wiped clean! And with the death of the real Dr.
Westbrook . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would be no more.
In the mean time, I had copied a bogus `blueprint' of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. onto
DVD. To the untrained eye, the schematics and mathematical formulas
would seem genuine . . . but after a few months of trying to reconstruct it,
the `plans' would only lead to frustration instead of success.
I would pass it on to `Ivan' and collect the first half of my $150,000,000
tomorrow night. Saturday morning, I'd skip town and claim my cash at
the Bank in the Cayman Islands that it had been wired too. Before
anyone could even tell that I'd pulled a fast one . . . I'd be long gone!!
The sound of a buzzer drew my attention back to the present.
I reached down and took the pills that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. had spit out before
me. I placed them into my briefcase, along with the other solutions that I
had prepared, and was on my way back to the doctor's brownstone.
Chapter 13
Friday September 5, 9:03 PM
The corner of Baker & Elm St.
As I drove up, `Ivan's' now familiar Black Cadillac sat perched in its
usual place. As I glanced in my rearview mirror, the headlights of my
"24 hour surveillance team" pulled up behind me.
I exited the car and walked across the street . . . `Ivan' got out to greet
me.
"Evening my good doctor, you look charming this evening," he said with
a sly grin.
"Let's knock off the crap," I said sternly. "I believe we have some
business to conclude?"
"Ah yes . . . direct and to the point," he said. "You have the
`blueprints'?"
I reached into my purse and pulled out a small package. I handed it over
to him.
"Inside," I said. "Are 18 DVD disks. In your hand . . . you hold the
entire set of plans to G.E.N.E.S.I.S."
"For your sake," he said while squinting his eyes. "I hope so . . ."
I smiled and said, "I've encrypted the entire set . . . so without an access
password, it's completely useless. As soon as I you prove that you've
held up your end of the bargain . . . the password is yours."
"Very good doctor . . . very good," he chuckled.
With a snap of his fingers, one of his men handed him a cellphone.
"$75,000,000 has been deposited in this Bank in the Cayman Islands. It
is currently awaiting a "personalized security password" to initialize it.
Once a password has been given to this account, no one can access a
penny without it. When you arrive at the Bank for the first time, give the
password. You will then be ID'd and fingerprinted . . . from that moment
on, you will be the only person in the world capable of accessing those
funds. But it seems that one of us needs to make the first move . . . so, in
an effort to be trusting . . . here is the telephone number of the bank along
with the deposit confirmation number."
He handed me a slip of paper.
I took his cellphone and began dialing . . . an automated menu greeted my
ears.
After entering the account number & confirmation number, I was
prompted to enter a 10 digit "personalized security password" to
initialize the account to me. Once doing so, the recording urged me to
"ID" my account by personally showing up at the Bank and presenting
the previously entered 10-digit password. Once photographed and
fingerprinted, the account would be truly secure.
After listening to all of the instructions carefully . . . I hung up the phone
and gave it back to `Ivan'.
"Now it's your turn," he said smugly. Just remember one thing doctor, if
the password you give me, or any of the information on these disks
proves to be a fraud . . . you will be killed without hesitation. Is that
acceptable my good doctor?"
I nodded my head. "No problem. The access password is
SFG9457J37KMS6".
He wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it, along with the disks
to a man in the back seat of the car.
As I peered through he window, I could tell that the man was accessing
the disks on a portable computer. After a few minutes, he gave a thumbs
up signal to `Ivan' who in-turn, turned to me and said, "Very good
doctor, it seems as though you have held up your end of the bargain. We
will be in touch. Just remember the rest of the agreement. You will
remain and impersonate Dr. Westbrook until we have assembled a
working prototype . . . at that time, you will be contacted and the rest of
your money will be deposited to the same bank. Just remember one
thing," he said sternly. "You will be under surveillance 24 hours a day!
If you have double-crossed us in any way . . . or if you try to `get away'
from us and escape with your money . . . you will not live to see the light
of the next day! Are we clear doctor?"
"Crystal" I said calmly.
"Good. Until we talk again doctor . . ." he said while tipping his hat.
I firmly clutched the piece of paper that he had given me and turned to
head back to my car. As I did, the `goon squad" came along with me.
Once back at the doctor's brownstone, I hurried to her office and pulled
out my briefcase. As I opened it, I took a deep breath . . .
"Well Dave . . . it's time for `the great escape'!"
Chapter 14
Friday September 5, 11:24 PM
Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C.
I looked down at the pirated genetic cocktails before me.
On one hand, I wasn't looking forward to putting my body through
another painful transformation . . . but on the other hand, I couldn't wait
to get back into a `male' body again. Although I have to admit that being
in a woman's body for a week was interesting, I couldn't wait to get the
hell out of it!! I was a man . . . and in no way, shape or form . . . did I
intend to spend the rest of my days wearing panties and a bra!!
I grabbed a container of pink fluid . . . concentrated binding matrix.
After drinking it and waiting about 30 minutes, I injected myself with
another dose of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. serum that I had prepared after hours last
night.
As I felt the cool fluid flow through my veins, my mind started to
visualize the new body that would be mine for the rest of my life.
That of a 26 year old male. Incredibly fit & very good looking.
"Hell . . . if you get the chance to pick your own body . . . you might as
well go all out," I thought.
After another 15 minutes, I downed the last of my chemicals.
Two small blue pills . . . an experimental genetic accelerator which
basically condenses the entire transformation process to about one third.
That way, I'd be able to sneak out of here in the morning before the
`goons' outside became suspicious. I'm sure that by late-morning they'll
be suspicious that they haven't seen Dr. Westbrook emerge . . . but by
the time they come inside to investigate . . . I'll be long gone and on a jet
half-way to the Cayman Islands. By mid-afternoon, I'll be a millionaire
and with my new identity . . . able to start a completely new life!
Chapter 15
Saturday September 6, 9:16 AM
Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C.
It was all a blur, as the night seemed to take forever. But it was worth it
as the sight of a well-muscled body and a penis between my legs once
more greeted me in the mirror. I reached down and touched it as the
familiar sensation of my genitals swelling made my body tingle with
excitement. I couldn't help it . . . within moments I began to masturbate .
. . enjoying the sensations that I'd only lost for a week but felt like an
eternity.
After cumming violently on the doctor's bathroom countertop . . . I took
a good look at myself in the mirror. Everything had worked to
perfection. Before me stood an incredibly good looking (& well-
endowed) young man. Dark hair, blue eyes . . . athletic build. It was
perfect. A smile came to my face as I took in the whole package.
I soon snapped myself out of it as I hurried to put on some male clothes
that I had purchased the other night. After doing so, I grabbed my wallet
and headed out the back of Dr. Westbrook's brownstone. As I came out
from around the back, I casually strolled past the men in the car that were
supposed to be watching me. It worked like a charm . . . they didn't even
flinch. After walking a couple of blocks, I hailed a cab and was off to
the airport.
Chapter 16
Saturday September 6 (later that day), 4:21 PM
The Grand Bank, Grand Cayman Island
"Good Afternoon Mr. Thompson" a well-dressed attendant at the bank
said as he glanced at my forged identification. "I understand that you'd
like to "ID" an account?"
"That's correct," I said calmly.
"May I have the account number?" the man said.
"Sure," I said. I recited it from memory.
After looking into his computer screen and pausing a moment he said,
"Here it is. Ah yes . . . this account has been initialized with a 10 digit
security password. Can you give me the correct 10 digit password for
security purposes sir?"
Once again, I gave
Thursday August 7, 5:03 PM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
My hand was on the light switch . . . ready to flip it off. But before I did,
I quickly scanned the room to make sure that I hadn't forgotten anything.
I paused for a moment as my eyes met the imposing machine that sat in
the center of the room; the sight of it involuntarily causing my mind to
shift gears . . . I began to daydream as I stared into the engraved stainless
steel plate at its base.
On it, there was simply one word . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S.
It was an acronym . . . short for "Genetic Encompassing & Neurological
Encoding Systems Imprinting Synthesizer."
G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was perhaps the government's biggest secret . . . an
ongoing project over the past decade, and the brainchild of the project's
supervisor . . . one Dr. Sam Westbrook. As for myself . . . I've been the
project's head computer programmer for over five years now, and have
seen over a billion spent on research and development . . . shit, this
facility alone was probably a couple hundred million! But considering
that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was probably the most significant medical /
technological advancement of this century . . . it was impossible to put a
price to its worth.
Simply put . . . we had invented a machine capable of scanning a
person's deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) structure and digitally encoding it
into our mainframe computer. Once a `pattern' had been stored (some 90
plus gigabytes of data), it could then be digitally manipulated and re-
imprinted over a patient's current DNA. Through a complex array of
computer programming & chemical induction . . . the subject's body is
`tricked' into accepting the new DNA information as it's own. Then,
through a rapid process of cellular regeneration . . . each cell in the body
alters itself to conform to the `new' DNA structure.
It was truly an astounding scientific achievement with countless ways in
which it could be utilized. A cancerous tumor could be `erased', broken
bones mended, hell . . . you want blue eyes instead of brown? . . . You
want to drop 25 pounds? No problem. We were a damn plastic
surgeon's dream!
But what was even more incredible was that we could digitally re-code
brain patterns. Effectively giving us the ability to alter the memories,
drives and instincts of a subject. The most hardened criminal could be
`re-coded' to be as passive as a lamb, thus allowing him/her to rejoin the
community as a productive member of society. As you can see, the
possibilities were endless. G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was simply . . . incredible.
With such a prestigious position for such an unbelievable project, you'd
think I'd be one of the happiest guys on the face of the earth . . . right?
But instead, my mind was filled with anger and disgust. Imagine . . .
dedicating years of your life toward something, thinking that you were
going to be helping people . . . and then one day finding out that you'd
been played for a fool.
A few weeks ago, while recovering some accidentally deleted files from
the network, I stumbled across the fragments of an e-mail addressed to
Dr. Westbrook . . . from the CIA!?? Although I tried to fight it, my
curiosity overtook me as I spent the next few hours reconstructing the
letter. What I looked at left me completely stunned. Dr. Westbrook, and
most of the project team, was actually part of the CIA!
Apparently, G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was to be commandeered after its final
`Beta' testing was complete in the next few weeks. The letter went on to
say that the five non-CIA team members represented a potential security
threat to the long-term viability of the project, as well as the United
States government. All non-secure team members would have to be `
Disposed Of ' at the appropriate time!!
My heart began to race wildly; they were going to kill us!
I quickly `scrubbed' the e-mail file and headed home as fast as I could to
make an attempt at sorting things out.
"The CIA! The fucking CIA!" I thought to myself. "And Westbrook?!!"
They knew from the get-go that what we were really developing was
some kind of `super-counterintelligence spy machine'. Armed with
G.E.N.E.S.I.S., the government would be almost unstoppable; able to
infiltrate anywhere in the world and . . . manipulate any situation. The
possibilities were truly frightening.
Unfortunately, my problems weren't any easier to solve by the time I got
home. I had been tricked, and even worse . . . my life was in danger.
There was no one that I could trust. I didn't know who the other four
`non-agents' were and couldn't risk trying to find out. Where could I
run? . . . Where could I hide? Surly they'd find me.
And then, out of the clear blue . . . it hit me. I had a plan!
"Hey Dave!" a voice called out impatiently from the next room. "You
just gonna stand there and daydream all night . . . or are we gonna get the
hell outta here? You know traffic's a bitch if we don't leave by quarter
after."
His voice quickly snapped me out of my trance-like state.
"Yeah, yeah . . . I know. Sorry . . . I was just doing some thinking" I
shot back. Grabbing my briefcase, I hit the light switch and headed out
the door with Jim.
Chapter 2
Friday August 16 (one week later), 8:12 PM
My Apartment
"Hello" I said as I picked up the ringing telephone.
"Mr. David Freeman?" a deep voice with a thick accent asked.
"Yes" I said.
"Tomorrow . . . 7:30 PM . . . at the wooden bench near the pond on the
East Side of Northridge Park. Come alone. You will be watched."
Before I could even respond, I heard a click. The phone line was dead.
The next day seemed to take forever as I had second thoughts about my
meeting that evening. I couldn't believe that I was actually going to go
through with this, but since I was the one who originally contacted them .
. . I had no choice now but to follow through.
Finally . . . the end of the day arrived. As I drove to the park, I began to
get nervous thinking about whether or not I had made the right decision.
But then I remembered that my own country . . . the goddamn CIA had
already double-crossed me. So why feel bad? It was simply time to get
even!!
As I approached the bench, I saw the back of a man's head; most of it
obscured by a large dark hat. I took a deep breath as I rounded the
corner; and without making eye contact . . . quickly sat down.
"Hello" I started to say as I attempted to initiate a handshake.
"Mr. Freeman I presume" he grumbled.
"Yes, I'm Freeman" I said as I pulled back my hand.
"There is not much time comrade," he said. "Here, in this envelope, you
will find everything you need."
I reached out and took the heavily padded envelope.
"Our agreement still stands?" I asked.
"Yes" he said as he reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette.
"Things are as they were agreed to. You will turn over to us the
`blueprints' for the machine you call G.E.N.E.S.I.S., and we in turn . . .
will pay you $150,000,000 U.S. dollars . . . in cash. That is of course,
that you can prove that this machine of yours actually does what you say
it will."
"It does!" I snapped back. "It does . . . you'll see."
"For your sake . . . I hope so." He said with skepticism. "Comrade."
I clutched the envelope tightly and got up to leave.
"It's been a pleasure." I stated calmly.
"Good evening Mr. Freeman." He responded with a tip of his hat.
With that, I turned and walked away.
Back at my apartment, I flipped on the dining room light and sat down at
the table. I slowly opened up the envelope and poured its contents onto
the hard wood table. Out came some papers, and a small device.
"So" I said inquisitively. "That's what you look like."
I held the paper-thin device up to get a better look. To the naked eye,
nobody would ever think it was anything other than the credit card that it
appeared to be. As I gave it the once over, I found it hard to believe that
this was actually a tiny recording device. If it performed as advertised, it
was capable of recording the strokes of a computer keyboard for up to 20
consecutive hours.
As long as it went undetected, that would be more than enough.
Chapter 3
Monday August 18, 6:35 AM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
Getting into the complex for work Monday morning went off without a
hitch. I arrived about an hour early and made my way through all of the
security checkpoints . . . no problem. With the keystroke recorder
looking like my `gold' credit card and it's attachment wire stuffed into a
ballpoint pen, no one suspected a thing.
Once inside the lab, I made my way to my office. There I pulled off the
top to my pen and dumped two small wires & a metal collar onto the
desk. I quickly clipped the wires to the magnetic strip on the back of the
`credit card' with a couple of paper clips. I then twisted the frayed ends
of the wires around the tiny metal collar.
"You'd better work," I thought to myself as I gave it a final inspection.
With my heat beating frantically, I made my way out into the lab. After
a quick look around to make sure that the coast was clear, I made my
way over to the terminal that Dr. Westbrook usually used to interface
with the main-frame computer system. I hurriedly turned over the
keyboard and allowed the magnetic backing of the `recorder' to attach
itself. I then took the small metal `collar' and twisted it around the
plastic sheathing that surrounded the wires running from the keyboard to
the computer system. Once assured that the `collar' had made positive
contact with the copper wires in the cord, I flipped the keyboard back
over and straightened everything back up.
The day passed slowly. Fear of getting caught, kept me from being able
to concentrate on anything else. I kept eyeing the terminal . . . hoping
that Dr. Westbrook would use it. Finally around 2:30 PM, it happened.
The doctor spent about an hour doing some work . . . I prayed that it
would be enough.
After telling Jim that I needed to work a little late, I managed to make
myself the last one to leave. Once alone, I quickly grabbed the recorder
and stuffed it back into my wallet. I gathered my things and took off as
fast as I could.
Later that evening, I printed out the recordings of the small device. After
looking through some 100 pages of keystrokes, I finally hit the jackpot.
"Yes!!" I yelled as I wrote down Dr. Westbrook's primary access
password.
"Alright doctor" I grumbled to myself. "It's payback time!"
Chapter 4
Friday August 29 (one week & a half later), 7:45 AM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
Barring some unforeseen event . . . today would be the day. I knew that
with the holiday coming up, a lot of people would be taking off right at
five o'clock . . . eager to get a jump on the long Labor Day weekend. If
things went as usual, Dr. Westbrook would be sticking around an extra
hour or so . . . working late . . . just like every other day.
Things went just as planned. Quitting time came and everybody headed
for the parking lot. By about 5:15 PM, Dr. Westbrook and I were the
only two left.
About a fifteen minutes later, the doctor walked by and noticed me
working in my office. "Oh, Hi Dave. I didn't know anyone else was still
here."
"Yeah . . . still here" I said with a sigh. "I just wanted to get these
algorithms ironed out before the weekend started. Anyone else here? Or
is it just us diehards?"
With a laugh the doctor responded "No . . . just us people without a
social life!"
After almost a half-hour, my opportunity finally came. I saw Dr.
Westbrook head over to the restroom. I quickly got up and scurried over
to where the doctor was sitting. There I pulled a small capsule out of my
pocket and cracked it open. Being careful so as not to spill any, I
dumped its contents into the doctor's open soft drink can. It fizzed just a
bit; then quickly subsided.
I turned and nonchalantly headed back to my office. Just as I got there, I
heard the sound of the restroom door opening.
I was told that the white-powdered chemical would work quickly; not
giving the victim enough time to realize that they'd been drugged, nor call
for help. I continually glanced out of my office to see if anything had
happened. And then . . . all of the sudden . . . I heard a loud thud. I
rushed out of the office and saw Dr. Westbrook sprawled out on the
floor.
I quickly ran over.
"Doctor??" I said in a concerned tone. "Dr. Westbrook? Are you
alright?" There was no response.
As I bent down and rolled the doctor over, it was clear that the `knockout
drops' provided by my `friends' had done their work quite nicely.
"All right Davie boy" I said to myself. Just keep your fingers crossed
that everything else goes just as smoothly."
I made sure that the room was locked and then proceeded to drag the
good doctor across the room.
"Damn you're heavy" I groaned aloud.
In front of me was the security console that allowed access into the `Main
Interface Room'. The door required a level 10 security clearance to
open, and was always ordered sealed anytime that Dr. Westbrook was
not present. Since I was only a level 7, my security card just wasn't
going to do the trick.
Enter . . . my unconscious friend.
I gently slid the doctor's access card into the slot on the reader next to the
door.
After a brief moment, a synthesized computer voice acknowledged my
presence.
"SECURITY CARD ACCEPTED."
"IDENTIFICATION . . . POSITIVE."
"DR. WESTBROOK."
"PLEASE PLACE HAND ON SCANNER FOR FINGERPRINT
IDENTIFICATION."
"PRESS ENTER WHEN READY"
I awkwardly positioned the doctor's right hand on the glass plate and
then pressed the `enter' key.
I closed my eyes as a bright green light scanned back and forth; very
similar to the way a photocopy machine worked.
"FINGERPRINT IDENTIFICATION . . . POSITIVE."
"PLEASE PLACE HEAD ON CHIN-REST FOR FACIAL
CAPILLARY IDENTIFICATION."
"PRESS ENTER WHEN READY"
It took a lot of struggling, but I finally managed to get the doctor's head
positioned correctly. Then, with the press of a button, the machine was
once again scanning the doctor's limp body. The bright light made the
doctor's skin almost seem transparent as the tiny blood vessels of the face
were compared to the security record file.
"CAPILLARY IDENTIFICATION . . . POSITIVE."
"PLEASE ENTER 16 DIGIT PRIMARY ACCESS NUMBER"
I typed in from memory, the number that I had pirated the other day.
"ACCESS NUMBER . . . ACCEPTED."
I heard a click as the pressure seal on the door in front of me released. I
grabbed the handle and opened it. I dragged the doctor in and closed the
door behind me. When I turned around, my heart began to pound.
I knew that it was time.
Chapter 5
Friday August 29, 6:12 PM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
The room was quite familiar to me. In fact, I had spent almost as much
time in here as I did back at my desk . . . although none of it was
unsupervised.
I once again used the doctor's body as a human `passport' to clear the
security console at the G.E.N.E.S.I.S. interface terminal.
"LOGIN SUCCESSFUL"
"GOOD EVENING DR. WESTBROOK."
"Alright" I said as I took a deep breath.
I quickly started to scan through the database . . . making sure that I had
everything that I needed. Once I found it all, I gave a huge sigh of relief
and turned my attention toward the scanner adjacent to where I was
standing. I programmed it to perform a complete genetic body scan . . .
"ENTER PRIMARY ACCESS NUMBER TO INITIATE AUTO-
SCAN SEQUENCE"
I entered the stolen number once again.
"AUTO-SCANNING SEQUENCE TO INITIATE IN TWO
MINUTES"
I stripped off my clothes and laid down on a large, clear acrylic table that
was suspended by two steel supports at its top and bottom. Wrapped
around the table was the actual scanning device. It was approximately
eight feet in diameter, and frankly . . . resembled a giant white donut.
When activated, it would sweep up and down the table a number of times
to create a 3-dimensional, genetic imprint of the patient.
I checked a couple of settings, and got myself into position. The scanner
quickly sensed my body and made an initial sweep to determine the
`limits' of its scan.
"AUTO-SCANNING SEQUENCE TO INITIATE IN THIRTY
SECONDS"
"WARNING . . . PATIENT MUST REMAIN STILL FOR
DURATION OF SCAN"
As the computer counted down, I closed my eyes and tried to relax.
"3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . INITIATING"
>From above and below, the interior ring of the scanner projected a neon
red laser grid across my body. Then, as if attached to an axle, the
scanner began to turn about the table like a giant bicycle tire. It moved
back and forth several times while emitting an eerie bright blue light that
caused the entire room to glow.
After nearly forty-five minutes, the machine stopped.
"AUTO-SCAN COMPLETE"
"VERIFYING SCAN INTEGRITY"
Pause
"SCAN INTEGRITY . . . POSITIVE"
I was relieved that everything went all right and proceeded to get dressed.
I did a quick check of the doctor and was relieved to see that the chemical
substance was continuing to work as promised.
Once back at the terminal, I began to program G.E.N.E.S.I.S. to create
the two chemical serums that I needed. The first, created from the
genetic scan that I had just performed on myself. And the second, from
the mainframe's stored pattern of Dr. Westbrook. Both serums were
generated to initiate physical genetic changes only . . . no mental or
emotional changes were included.
In about thirty minutes, two small vials of iridescent green liquid were
ready. I held them up to the light and marveled at the technological
wonder that I was holding. I was careful not to mix them up . . . tagged
them . . . and set them down in a specially designed storage rack.
I turned again to the keyboard and typed a few more commands into the
computer . . .
A moment later . . . the computer responded once more.
"BINDING MATRIX PREPARED"
"STEP INSIDE CHAMBER AND CLOSE DOOR COMPLETELY TO
INITIATE MATRIX INDUCTION"
After managing to get both the unconscious doctor and myself into the
glass chamber, I turned and closed the door tightly behind me. The
rubber seals around it made a squishing sound as it locked into it's closed
position. A fan from above kicked in and supplied fresh oxygen to the
tight space.
"BINDING MATRIX DISPERSAL COMMENCING"
I stood there and watched several dozen tiny nozzles spray a fine stream
of pink mist into the air. My lungs burned ever so slightly as I inhaled
the thick fog. Soon the chamber was completely filled; as I looked down,
I could barely make out Dr. Westbrook's silhouette on the floor.
The air felt cool and damp . . . almost as if standing outside on a humid
fall day. After the five-minute ingestion period was over, an exhaust fan
turned on and sucked the dense mist out of the chamber through the thin
slats in the stainless steel floor.
"INDUCTION COMPLETE"
"OPEN DOOR TO RELEASE AIRLOCK"
I did so and quickly stepped out; relieved to take a deep breath of fresh
air. After a moment, I pulled the doctor back out and went over to the
storage rack where I had placed the two vials.
My heat began to beat frantically as I got ready to take the last step.
"Well . . . here goes nothing!" I said as I prepared to give myself a shot
of the formula intended for me. After doing so, I paused for a second . . .
praying that what I was doing was all going to work out.
I next found another syringe and injected the doctor with the contents of
the second vial.
A chill ran up my spine as I realized that there was no turning back now.
It was done.
After composing myself, I walked over to a nearby desk and dialed a
number that was given to me by `Ivan' (my nickname for my eastern
block friend). As instructed, I hung up after two rings. They would meet
me in 30 minutes at the corner of Baker & Elm St.
Chapter 6
Friday August 29, 8:07 PM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
"Wake up . . . wake up" I said as I shook the doctor.
It was taking a few minutes, but the special smelling salts given to me
were seemingly bringing the doctor back to consciousness.
"Come on . . . that's it. Time to wake up".
After several tries at keeping the doctor's eyes open, they finally focused
on my face.
"Dave? What . . . why did you . . . what's going on?"
I gave the doctor a cold stare and said, "Because you and your CIA
buddies sold me out. This whole thing's been nothing but a lie. I
believed in you . . ."
"But . . . how did you know I was with the CIA?" the doctor interrupted.
"I found the fragments of an old e-mail file that you deleted. It was very
enlightening." I said sarcastically. "I especially like the part where I'm
just supposed to `disappear'! That was a nice touch"
"Please Dave . . . let me try to explain."
"I don't think so doctor," I said. "Besides, I have something a little more
important to tell you. Now listen . . . and listen good. I've injected you
with a very toxic poison. If you don't get a shot of the antidote within 60
minutes . . . you'll be dead."
Dr. Westbrook was completely speechless.
"So if you want to live, I'd suggest you do everything that I say. First
we're going to get out of here. You're going to act completely natural as
we leave the building. If you pull anything at any of the security
checkpoints . . . I'll leave you to die. Got it!?"
"Yes" the doctor said meekly.
"No strange looks at the security cameras . . . no tying to signal guards . .
. no nothing. Were just both going to walk out of here like it was any
other night of the week. Nice and easy."
I helped the doctor stand up.
"After getting out to the parking lot, we'll both just get into our cars and
take off like normal. I want you to follow me . . . in about 20 minutes
well be meeting up with a fellow who will give you the anecdote that you
need. Just remember . . . don't pull anything funny . . . don't try to speed
off to the hospital or police . . . because there's no way that anybody's
going to be able to figure out what the hell I gave you. You'd be dead
before they could even send your blood to the lab for an analysis. Your
only chance is to do exactly what I'm telling you. Got it?"
"I'll do what you say," the doctor said softly.
We shut things down and headed off to the parking lot. Things went
smoothly as the doctor did everything that I instructed. Shortly, we
pulled up at the designated rendezvous point. There was a black Cadillac
waiting for us on the opposite side of the street.
As we approached it two men stepped out. The driver's window began to
roll down; `Ivan' gave me a cold smile.
Before anyone could even blink, the two men were forcibly shoving Dr.
Westbrook into the backseat.
`Ivan' turned to me and said, "If things go as you say they will . . . I will
meet you back here at 9:00 PM on Sunday night. We will discuss things
further then."
I nodded my head in agreement.
>From the back seat I heard Dr. Westbrook shout "Dave! Where's the
anecdote! What's going on!"
"Easy doctor . . . easy." I said. "There was NO poison. I made it all up
to get you to cooperate with me. You're gonna be just fine."
"You fucking piece of garbage!" the doctor yelled. I swear to God you'll
pay for this! Whatever you're doing, you'll never get away with it!"
"Don't be so sure of it doctor," I said. "You'd be surprised what a little
`genetic cocktail' can do to help somebody get away with something. I
don't think anybody's going to suspect anything's out of the ordinary at
all."
"What have you done with G.E.N.E.S.I.S.!" the doctor demanded.
"You'll find out soon enough . . . you'll find out soon enough."
I nodded my head to `Ivan' and said, "Sunday at 9:00PM . . . I'll be
here."
With that I turned and walked back toward the cars. One of the men
from the back seat got out and intercepted me.
"You'll take the doctor's car," he said. "We'll take care of yours."
"Alright" I said as we exchanged keys.
I got into the doctor's Lexus and started up the engine. I wasn't really
sure of where to go for the next couple of days until the changes were
complete. But, I knew that I couldn't risk being seen around here . . . so
I decided to drive until something hit me. I ended up in a Hilton hotel in
the suburbs of Arlington. I checked in under a false name, and using
cash . . . paid for my two-night stay in advance.
"You'll be in room 807 Mr. Johnson. Have a nice stay," the receptionist
said.
"Thank you" I responded.
As the elevator began to ascend, it stopped on the third floor for someone
else to enter. In stepped an attractive young girl dressed to go out for the
evening. As she walked in, I noticed they way her wide hips caused her
butt to sway . . . the way her breasts bounced ever so slightly as she
walked.
"Good evening" I said.
"Hello" she responded with a slight smile.
As I admired her seductive form from across the cab, my stomach began
to churn; I started to get scared. I couldn't help but wonder if it was the
first stages of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. beginning to alter my body. I began to feel
sick at the thought of what was going to happen to me . . . over the next
36 hours . . . I would become the genetic double of Dr. Sam Westbrook .
. . Dr. Sam(antha) Westbrook . . . a woman!
The `chime' of the elevator doors opening brought mind back to the
present. I got off on the eighth floor and found my way to my room.
After getting ready for bed, I flipped on the TV in an effort to get my
mind off things . . . but it was of no use. I was just too geared up.
So I flipped off the lights . . . figuring that the darkness would help me
fall asleep. But as I lay there, my mind could only think about `the plan'
. . . I was still in shock that I had the guts to go through with it. As I
closed my eyes in an effort to drift off to sleep, my mind went over every
detail . . .
In short, my intent was to scuttle the whole project. If they weren't going
to use it to help people . . . then they weren't going to have it at all!
Screw the CIA! But don't worry . . . `Ivan' wasn't going to get it either.
All I was really after was a way to avoid being killed by the CIA; it just
so happened that my plan had a couple of side benefits . . . justice &
good old . . . hard . . . cold cash!!
I had made a deal to turn an electronic blueprint of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. over
to a former Soviet power; in turn, they would give me $150,000,000
(broken into two payments after meeting specific criteria along the way).
First, I had to convince them that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was the real deal. They
were certainly leery about my claims . . . but I had no problem
understanding their skepticism. If I were in their shoes, I'd want some
tangible proof before I dropped that kind of change.
Second, I was to give them the `blueprints' and specifications for the
whole project; thus collecting the fist half of my compensation.
Later . . . once a working prototype was constructed from my
information, I'd receive the second half of my $150,000,000.
It took days of thought . . . but the details of how to pull this off finally
came to me. They wanted proof that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. was for real, and I
needed a way to duplicate G.E.N.E.S.I.S. onto DVD's without drawing
suspicion to myself. So I came up with the idea of using G.E.N.E.S.I.S.
to swap bodies with Dr. Westbrook; in a sense . . . killing two birds with
one stone.
After giving Dr. Westbrook a dose of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. serum, I'd turn her
over to `Ivan' and let her morph (right in front of his eyes) into a physical
duplicate of myself. They say, "seeing is believing" . . . so what better
way to illustrate the capabilities of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. than with an actual
demonstration!
As for me . . . I would turn myself into Dr. Westbrook . . . giving myself
full access to the entire project's database. In her body, I'd be able to
operate completely without suspicion; taking my time to secretly plant
multiple computer viruses that would that would destroy the CIA's
G.E.N.E.S.I.S. database forever.
But before I did so . . . I'd use G.E.N.E.S.I.S. to create another `serum'
for myself; a kind of `escape plan' if you will. Then after giving my
`comrades' a corrupted DVD blueprint of G.E.N.E.S.I.S., I'd use it to
give myself another identity and make a getaway to some remote tropical
island with my $75,000,000. By the time they realized that I'd pulled a
fast one . . . I'd be long gone & G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would be destroyed
forever!
It was a perfect plan . . . I had gone over every detail a thousand times in
my head. I had thought of every fault . . . every angle. It was simply
flawless. Not only would I be able to live out my life in luxury, but also
the world would be a safer place for my intervention.
Chapter 7
Saturday August 30, 10:56 AM
The Arlington Hilton
I awoke drained the next morning; it was one of the most horrible night's
sleep that I'd ever had. I tossed and turned all night long as chills and a
constant nausea kept me from resting. It seemed that if I wasn't curled
up in bed with the sweats . . . I was either sitting on the toilet, or kneeling
in front of it. It was simply awful.
As I made my way to the bathroom to throw up once more, I was taken
by my hollowed reflection in the mirror. I couldn't believe it. I must
have lost some 50 pounds . . . and by the looks of it, about six inches as
well.
"Oh God" I gasped as my hands clutched my face. It was then that it all
kicked in . . . I began to shake. Up until now, the entire plan seemed so
easy to go through with . . . but now with my body actually changing, I
became scared.
"What have I done! What have I done!" I thought.
After laying down for a couple of more hours, the nausea & diarrhea
seemed to subside. I decided to take a shower and get cleaned up. The
warm water felt wonderful as it flowed over my aching body. The
sensations of washing and feeling the changes in my body were almost
surreal. I felt so thin . . . so lightweight as I noticed that most of my
muscle mass had disappeared.
After drying off, I decided to get dressed and head downstairs to grab a
bite to eat . . . I was simply starving.
As I put my clothes on, it wasn't a surprise to see how loose they were. I
looked like a little kid wearing his dad's stuff. So I rolled up my pant
legs, tucked in my shirt & tightened my belt to make the best out of an
awkward situation. I stared in the mirror and noticed that my sandy
colored hair had darkened and grown out an inch or two. I slicked it
back with some water and took off for downstairs.
After eating enough for almost two people, I paid and began to head back
to the room. As I passed by the restrooms in the lobby, I decided to make
a quick pit stop. I pushed open the men's room door and almost hit
another guy who was leaving at the same time.
"Excuse m . . . " my voice cracked in a higher octave. A look of surprise
overtook my face as I hastily pushed my way past the startled man. As I
made my way toward the urinals, a couple of other men gave me some
strange looks. While passing the mirror, I took a quick glance at my
reflection.
"Shit!" I thought. I looked even worse. My hair was another inch longer
and starting to fall to the sides around my face. I looked well . . . softer.
And with my smaller stature, it was no wonder that these guys were
staring. Frankly, it was starting to get difficult to tell whether I was male
or female. But when I bellied up to one of the urinals . . . it seemed to
squelch their curiosity as they went about their way without concern.
My heart began to beat quicker as I noticed yet another change. My
penis was completely numb! It was still the same size, but I couldn't feel
a thing . . . only the strange sensation of urine flowing through a part of
my body that seemed disconnected. I quickly reached down and grabbed
my balls . . . they too seemed desensitized as I gave them a little squeeze
to initiate some pain. Nothing but a little twinge.
When finished, I hurriedly zipped up my oversized pants and headed back
out to the lobby.
It was there that I noticed a little boutique with some clothing in the
window. I made a quick stop and picked up a navy blue jogging suit with
a white tee shirt & a pair of sandals. After holding them up to my body .
. . I decided that a `men's small' would be about right.
"Hopefully this shit will fit me a little better," I thought as I dumped them
on the counter.
"Hello, how are you . . ." my voice cracked.
The man gave me a strange look and then proceeded to ring up the sale.
I quickly grabbed the bag from him and made my way out of the shop . . .
completely embarrassed.
Once back in my room, I decided that another nap was in order. I had
hardly been awake for two hours, but was completely exhausted.
Chapter 8
Saturday August 30, 5:34 PM
The Arlington Hilton
I awoke some three hours later. As I looked out of the window, the sun
was starting to set.
"God, I feel like . . ." I started to say as the sound of my voice stopped
me in mid-sentence.
"Jesus . . . I sound like . . . a girl!" I gasped.
My hands reached up to clutch my throat. It was tight . . . sore; my
Adam's Apple was almost gone!
After regaining my composure. My grumbling stomach once again told
me that I needed some food.
"My metabolism must be going nuts," I thought as I casually brushed a
strand of hair out of my eye.
I got up and grabbed the bag of clothes that I had purchased earlier. I
dumped them onto the bed and began to get undressed. First my pants . .
. then my shirt.
"Holy shit!" I gasped as I fell back onto the bed in shock.
I looked down and couldn't believe what I saw. I was growing tits!
There before my very eyes . . . were most definitely two sprouting
breasts.
I slowly lifted my hands to touch them; hoping that when they reached
their destination . . . it would only be a dream.
But instead . . . they found a soft fleshiness that was foreign to the touch.
After sitting there in shock and staring at them for a few minutes, my
empty stomach reminded me of my ongoing hunger. I got up and finished
getting dressed.
When finished, I wandered over to the mirror to take a look.
What stared back was a completely androgynous figure! Half man . . .
half woman. My heart raced with fear.
In an effort to hang onto manhood for as long as possible . . . I ran to the
bathroom to once again slick back my hair. After completely wetting it, I
was able to get it to lay tight to my head.
As I gazed at my reflection, I wished that I'd bought a `medium' sized
shirt. The `small' that I had bought was clinging ever so tightly to my
bony ribcage . . . emphasizing even more so the two fleshy mounds
growing on my chest. In a ridiculous display of desperation, I tried to
push them back into my body . . . but all I managed to do was cause my
thickening nipples to harden . . . making them stand out even more.
I disgustedly grabbed the jacket top to my outfit and zipped it up over my
budding adolescent breasts.
"Well I guess it's not too bad," I thought as I tried to convince myself
that I still looked male before heading out the door.
I once again found myself eating a ton of food in the hotel's restaurant. I
was continually reminded of my predicament as people hesitated before
calling me `sir'.
I slowly began to realize that my `male masquerade' was all but over.
"I'll be right back with the check . . . Ma'am" the waitress said as she
cleared my plate.
I sat there for a moment . . . stunned by being addressed for the first time
as female.
While I waited for the check, I got up to use the restroom. Once there, I
hesitated at the entrances . . . trying to decide which one to use.
A man exited the men's room.
"Uh . . . excuse me . . . uh . . . miss," he said while giving me an
awkward look.
That did it . . . I had no choice. I turned and opened the door to the
women's room. I paused for a moment, unzipped my jacket, and
swallowed hard as I began to turn the corner through the entrance
vestibule.
My pulse quickened as I looked up to see several women before me.
They casually glanced over; feeling that someone new was entering the
room.
I saw a couple of them stare inquisitively at me . . . trying to decide if I
was male or female. One woman obviously felt threatened as she started
to say "Get the h . . . " before she noticed the small, familiar shapes
pushing through my tight tee-shirt.
"Oh dear . . . I'm so sorry" she said while looking completely
embarrassed.
I gave her a slight smile a hurriedly made my way to an empty stall. As I
did so, the other woman went about their business without any concern.
Once inside the stall, I unzipped my pants and just about started to
urinate, when it dawned on me that I'd better not `do it' standing up . . .
or else I'd really cause a scene. So I quickly grabbed some toilet paper .
. . lined the seat . . . and sat down to urinate.
Just as I did so, the stall door next to me opened and closed. I heard the
sounds of someone going through the same ritual that I had just
performed. While sitting there, I was clearly able to see the high-heeled
shoes of the woman in the stall next to me. She turned around as I
watched a pair of pantyhose fall around her ankles . . . then, a white lace
pair of panties.
As I listened to the sounds of her going to the bathroom . . . my mind
raced at the voyeuristic scene that I was living. Under normal
circumstances, I would have had a raging hard-on. But as I looked down
. . . there wasn't even a twitch in the diminutive penis that hung limply
between my legs.
After gradually coming to grips with my slipping manhood, I finished my
business and headed back to the table to pay my bill. After doing so, I
once again returned to my room . . . there, I stripped down to my boxers
and got into bed to watch some TV. A couple of hours later, I drifted off
to sleep . . . fearful of what changes awaited me in the morning.
Chapter 9
Sunday August 31, 10:21 AM
The Arlington Hilton
I awoke to the brightness of the sunlight streaming into my room. I rolled
over and squinted at the clock radio in an effort to make out the time.
After I pushed the hair out of my face, I was able to see that it was
almost . . .
"Hair?!"
I sat up with a jolt as everything came back to me in a flash . . . the
bouncing sensation on my chest making it all that much clearer.
"Holy shit!" I gasped in a completely different octave.
I looked down and saw a full size set of breasts. I grabbed them in
wonder; allowing their full weight to rest in the palms of my hands.
I began to touch them, but my nails only got in the way.
"Nails?!"
They seemed so long . . . so foreign. As I held them up to take a closer
look, I was amazed at how delicate my hands had become. My forearms
so . . .
My heart pounded as I sprung up and headed into the bathroom. As I
turned on the light and gazed into the mirror, I saw the most peculiar
sight. The body of someone else . . . moving just as I was moving . . .
mimicking my facial expressions. It was a scene right out of The
Twilight Zone.
Dr. Westbrook, or shall I say . . . "I" was a fairly attractive woman.
Late thirties . . . about 5'-6" and 130 pounds . . . a good figure, but
nothing spectacular.
With hazel eyes and shoulder length auburn hair, her . . . "my" . . . face
was definitely above average; perhaps a 6 or 7 on a scale of 1 to 10.
"Well one thing's for sure Doc," I said aloud as I gazed back down to my
chest. "You've got a nice little set of knockers here!"
I once again began to fondle them; I was simply amazed at the new
sensations. The feeling of weight jiggling on my once flat chest was
indescribable. I grabbed my thick nipples and began to roll them around
fingertips. They felt so big . . . so strange . . . so sensitive.
I then reached down and began to pull down my boxers; what awaited me
was no surprise. I'd seen many pussies before in my life . . . just not one
from this view!
I slowly started moving my hand toward the dark patch of pubic hair that
covered my empty crotch. As my fingers began to make there way down
my smooth stomach . . . through my pubic hair . . . and to . . .
"Oh my God" I said softly as my fingers worked their way into a warm
slit between my legs.
After a little more bodily exploration, I managed to snap myself out of it
and refocus on what was to transpire later today.
"Alright Dave . . . pull yourself together here. We've got a big day
ahead," I said to myself in the mirror.
"In a few days, you're gonna be a millionaire . . . and soon enough . . .
you'll be able to get the hell out of this body! But for now, you're just
going to have to grin and bear it".
It was time to head back to the city . . . time to take care of business.
>From this moment on . . . I knew the masquerade was on!
Chapter 10
Sunday August 31, 3:16 PM
Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C.
The doctor's home was absolutely beautiful. With high ceilings, rich
woodwork, and oak floors, it was obvious that she was well paid. I gave
myself a little self-guided tour, and then spent the rest of the afternoon
rifling through the doctor's papers in her den. I was looking for anything
I could to help shed some light on this whole CIA stuff . . . but
unfortunately, there wasn't a shred of anything useful to be found.
I did however find some old journals where the doctor had recorded much
of her early research and theories on human genetics. It was fascinating
reading . . . before I knew it, I was completely immersed.
Some time later . . . I glanced down at my watch.
"Shit!" I chirped. "7:30 . . . gotta get ready!"
I quickly closed the books and scurried upstairs to get ready for my
appointment.
Up in her bedroom, I looked through her closet for some clothes to
change into. I grabbed a casual dress and tossed it onto the bed as I
made my way over to her dresser.
I swallowed hard as I pulled open a couple of drawers in search of some
underwear to put on first. The third time proved the charm as her
lingerie drawer slid open before me. An assortment of panties and bras
were neatly arranged in several rows. It turned my stomach to think
about wearing any of this stuff, but unfortunately, I had no choice. I
searched for the least feminine ones I could find . . . unfortunately, none
were conservative enough for my taste.
The feeling of the thin, tight cotton panties hugging my new form was
quite different to me. I gazed into the mirror to take in the sight . . .
turning sideways to catch a view from behind.
I next slipped my arms into her bra. I pulled the soft cups over my
dangling breasts and reached around to attempt to get it hooked. After a
couple of attempts, I managed to do it.
"Finally" I said in relief. "What a pain in the ass to have to do that all of
the time!"
The tight panties felt strange, but the bra was even worse. The sensation
of something snug around my chest was most uncomfortable.
"How the hell do women put up with these!" I said as I turned back to the
bed.
There I slipped on her dress and zipped it up.
Before I knew it, I had finished dressing . . . was in my car and on my
way.
I was speeding along to make my 9:00 PM appointment, when I rounded
a corner and noticed of sea of taillights backed up from the Washington
Bridge.
"Shit!" I exclaimed as I glanced at the dashboard clock. It read 8:35 PM.
"Damn it" I said impatiently as my car slowed to a crawl.
There wasn't enough time to try a different way . . . I'd have to wait it
out.
I continually glanced at the clock . . . my impatience seemingly making
the time go by even faster. Finally, I approached the problem.
There was a mass of flashing lights from at about the midpoint of the
bridge.
"Must have been an accident," I thought as I again checked the time.
Fortunately, the police kept the gawkers moving as the two lanes merged
to one. As I passed, I took a quick glance myself . . . but I couldn't see a
thing.
"Must have cleaned it up already," I thought as I accelerated back to full
speed.
It was close, but I managed to arrive only a couple of minutes late. The
familiar Cadillac was sitting on the opposite side of the street with its
lights off. I parked . . . took a deep breath . . . and got out of the car.
As I crossed the street, the men began to emerge from their vehicle.
"Good evening Doctor Westbrook," `Ivan' said with a smirk on his face.
"You look utterly lovely tonight."
I gave him a small, but annoyed smile.
"Let's just get to the point," I said firmly. "As you can tell by looking at
me . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. is everything that I said it would be. I assume
that what you saw happen to Dr. Westbrook over the weekend was
equally impressive . . . and certainly enough proof for you to see the
value in what you're buying?"
"Absolutely," `Ivan' said with a smile while checking me out. "It was
simply astonishing!"
I happened to notice that the backseat of the car was empty.
"Where's the doctor?" I asked curiously.
`Ivan' shrugged his shoulders and said, "Let's just say . . . she couldn't
make it this evening."
"What do you mean . . . couldn't make it!" I quipped. "What are you
talking about?!"
"The doctor is of no concern to you," `Ivan' smiled. "You just take care
of your part of the bargain."
"Look", I said. "This wasn't part of the deal . . . you told me you'd turn
her back over to me once you had your proof . . . you said that . . ."
"Silence", he said sternly. "We had a change of plans. You just hold up
your end of things . . . or else we may have a change of plans for you as
well!"
I shook my head in agreement slowly.
"Very good," he said. "Just to make sure that you don't have any second
thoughts about fulfilling you obligation . . . you will be under
surveillance by my men until you turn over the `blueprints' to
G.E.N.E.S.I.S."
"There won't be any problems," I said calmly as I tried to conceal my
anger.
"We expect delivery by the end of the week . . . doctor," he said.
"I'll let you know if I get it sooner," I responded.
"Then we are done. Good evening . . . Doctor Westbrook."
I turned and quickly headed back to the doctor's car, scared to death of
what could happen to me if I failed. As I started the car and began to
pull away, a pair of headlights of another car flipped on. I was being
followed.
Once back at the doctor's brownstone, I scurried inside and quickly
locked the doors behind me. I went to a nearby window and peered
outside . . . "Still there" I mumbled to myself.
I paced nervously for a while regretting what I had gotten myself into. I
was afraid if I didn't play my cards correctly, everything could get
screwed up. I needed to rethink things. It was obvious that `Ivan' was
going to be a handful.
Chapter 11
Monday September 1 (Labor Day), 8:00 AM
Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C.
Morning came quickly as the sound of the clock radio jarred me from my
sound sleep. I awoke slowly until a news report struck a nerve . . .
"Last nights fatal accident at the Washington Bridge still has authorities
baffled. Police are still searching for the vehicle that struck an innocent
motorist . . . causing the driver to loose control, break through the
guardrail, and plunge to his death in the river below. David Freeman, 35
of Washington D.C., was pronounced dead on arrival at . . ."
All at once every nerve in my body clicked into overdrive.
"David Freeman!!!" I yelled. "That's me!! . . . or . . . I mean Dr.
Westbrook!!! Jesus Christ!! They killed her!!!"
I slumped to the floor and buried my face between my hands. As I sat
there trying to make sense of it all, the harsh truth about what had really
happened began to sink in.
"Oh my God! They didn't kill Dr. Westbrook . . . they killed me!!! The
world thinks I'm dead!!"
I couldn't believe it . . . they had erased my life. My head began to spin .
. . what was I going to do?! I was dead . . . how could I ever change back
into my old body? I was trapped . . . or was I?!
"No . . . they're not going to win this game . . . I won't let them."
I pulled the curtains aside and glanced out the window . . . the
surveillance car was still parked there.
"We'll see who's smarter . . . we'll see!" I said as I closed the drapes in
anger.
It was time for a shift in plans.
I spent the entire day scheming . . . and by the time I went to bed that
night, I was sure that I had everything back under control.
Chapter 12
Thursday September 4 (a few days later), 5:52 PM
The U.S. Research Center for Scientific Advancement & Development
The past few days had gone even better than I'd anticipated. When I
walked into the Lab on Tuesday morning, I felt as if every eye in the
place could spot something wrong. I felt for sure that they could see
right through me . . . but after a while, my fears subsided. No one
suspected a thing as I easily passed for the real Dr. Westbrook. The
strangest part of the week had been dealing with the news about David
Freeman's (my) death. It was so eerie listening to others talk about me in
the past tense. I tried to act natural . . . but it was difficult. At times, I
had to step away from it all and take a break. But through it all, I
managed to stay focused and had accomplished most of my goals.
First and foremost . . . I had managed to plant a series of sophisticated
program viruses deep within the G.E.N.E.S.I.S. database using Dr.
Westbrook's security clearance to access sensitive areas. At precisely
midnight, during Saturday night's scheduled daily backup,
G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would corrupt itself by overwriting & scrambling it's
own programming. Even better, all the archives & saved backups for the
entire project would also be corrupted. By the time anyone could even
react to the program alarms . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would be reduced to an
irrecoverable pile of bits & bytes. In less than 15 minutes, the whole
project would be wiped clean! And with the death of the real Dr.
Westbrook . . . G.E.N.E.S.I.S. would be no more.
In the mean time, I had copied a bogus `blueprint' of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. onto
DVD. To the untrained eye, the schematics and mathematical formulas
would seem genuine . . . but after a few months of trying to reconstruct it,
the `plans' would only lead to frustration instead of success.
I would pass it on to `Ivan' and collect the first half of my $150,000,000
tomorrow night. Saturday morning, I'd skip town and claim my cash at
the Bank in the Cayman Islands that it had been wired too. Before
anyone could even tell that I'd pulled a fast one . . . I'd be long gone!!
The sound of a buzzer drew my attention back to the present.
I reached down and took the pills that G.E.N.E.S.I.S. had spit out before
me. I placed them into my briefcase, along with the other solutions that I
had prepared, and was on my way back to the doctor's brownstone.
Chapter 13
Friday September 5, 9:03 PM
The corner of Baker & Elm St.
As I drove up, `Ivan's' now familiar Black Cadillac sat perched in its
usual place. As I glanced in my rearview mirror, the headlights of my
"24 hour surveillance team" pulled up behind me.
I exited the car and walked across the street . . . `Ivan' got out to greet
me.
"Evening my good doctor, you look charming this evening," he said with
a sly grin.
"Let's knock off the crap," I said sternly. "I believe we have some
business to conclude?"
"Ah yes . . . direct and to the point," he said. "You have the
`blueprints'?"
I reached into my purse and pulled out a small package. I handed it over
to him.
"Inside," I said. "Are 18 DVD disks. In your hand . . . you hold the
entire set of plans to G.E.N.E.S.I.S."
"For your sake," he said while squinting his eyes. "I hope so . . ."
I smiled and said, "I've encrypted the entire set . . . so without an access
password, it's completely useless. As soon as I you prove that you've
held up your end of the bargain . . . the password is yours."
"Very good doctor . . . very good," he chuckled.
With a snap of his fingers, one of his men handed him a cellphone.
"$75,000,000 has been deposited in this Bank in the Cayman Islands. It
is currently awaiting a "personalized security password" to initialize it.
Once a password has been given to this account, no one can access a
penny without it. When you arrive at the Bank for the first time, give the
password. You will then be ID'd and fingerprinted . . . from that moment
on, you will be the only person in the world capable of accessing those
funds. But it seems that one of us needs to make the first move . . . so, in
an effort to be trusting . . . here is the telephone number of the bank along
with the deposit confirmation number."
He handed me a slip of paper.
I took his cellphone and began dialing . . . an automated menu greeted my
ears.
After entering the account number & confirmation number, I was
prompted to enter a 10 digit "personalized security password" to
initialize the account to me. Once doing so, the recording urged me to
"ID" my account by personally showing up at the Bank and presenting
the previously entered 10-digit password. Once photographed and
fingerprinted, the account would be truly secure.
After listening to all of the instructions carefully . . . I hung up the phone
and gave it back to `Ivan'.
"Now it's your turn," he said smugly. Just remember one thing doctor, if
the password you give me, or any of the information on these disks
proves to be a fraud . . . you will be killed without hesitation. Is that
acceptable my good doctor?"
I nodded my head. "No problem. The access password is
SFG9457J37KMS6".
He wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it, along with the disks
to a man in the back seat of the car.
As I peered through he window, I could tell that the man was accessing
the disks on a portable computer. After a few minutes, he gave a thumbs
up signal to `Ivan' who in-turn, turned to me and said, "Very good
doctor, it seems as though you have held up your end of the bargain. We
will be in touch. Just remember the rest of the agreement. You will
remain and impersonate Dr. Westbrook until we have assembled a
working prototype . . . at that time, you will be contacted and the rest of
your money will be deposited to the same bank. Just remember one
thing," he said sternly. "You will be under surveillance 24 hours a day!
If you have double-crossed us in any way . . . or if you try to `get away'
from us and escape with your money . . . you will not live to see the light
of the next day! Are we clear doctor?"
"Crystal" I said calmly.
"Good. Until we talk again doctor . . ." he said while tipping his hat.
I firmly clutched the piece of paper that he had given me and turned to
head back to my car. As I did, the `goon squad" came along with me.
Once back at the doctor's brownstone, I hurried to her office and pulled
out my briefcase. As I opened it, I took a deep breath . . .
"Well Dave . . . it's time for `the great escape'!"
Chapter 14
Friday September 5, 11:24 PM
Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C.
I looked down at the pirated genetic cocktails before me.
On one hand, I wasn't looking forward to putting my body through
another painful transformation . . . but on the other hand, I couldn't wait
to get back into a `male' body again. Although I have to admit that being
in a woman's body for a week was interesting, I couldn't wait to get the
hell out of it!! I was a man . . . and in no way, shape or form . . . did I
intend to spend the rest of my days wearing panties and a bra!!
I grabbed a container of pink fluid . . . concentrated binding matrix.
After drinking it and waiting about 30 minutes, I injected myself with
another dose of G.E.N.E.S.I.S. serum that I had prepared after hours last
night.
As I felt the cool fluid flow through my veins, my mind started to
visualize the new body that would be mine for the rest of my life.
That of a 26 year old male. Incredibly fit & very good looking.
"Hell . . . if you get the chance to pick your own body . . . you might as
well go all out," I thought.
After another 15 minutes, I downed the last of my chemicals.
Two small blue pills . . . an experimental genetic accelerator which
basically condenses the entire transformation process to about one third.
That way, I'd be able to sneak out of here in the morning before the
`goons' outside became suspicious. I'm sure that by late-morning they'll
be suspicious that they haven't seen Dr. Westbrook emerge . . . but by
the time they come inside to investigate . . . I'll be long gone and on a jet
half-way to the Cayman Islands. By mid-afternoon, I'll be a millionaire
and with my new identity . . . able to start a completely new life!
Chapter 15
Saturday September 6, 9:16 AM
Dr. Westbrook's Brownstone, Downtown Washington D.C.
It was all a blur, as the night seemed to take forever. But it was worth it
as the sight of a well-muscled body and a penis between my legs once
more greeted me in the mirror. I reached down and touched it as the
familiar sensation of my genitals swelling made my body tingle with
excitement. I couldn't help it . . . within moments I began to masturbate .
. . enjoying the sensations that I'd only lost for a week but felt like an
eternity.
After cumming violently on the doctor's bathroom countertop . . . I took
a good look at myself in the mirror. Everything had worked to
perfection. Before me stood an incredibly good looking (& well-
endowed) young man. Dark hair, blue eyes . . . athletic build. It was
perfect. A smile came to my face as I took in the whole package.
I soon snapped myself out of it as I hurried to put on some male clothes
that I had purchased the other night. After doing so, I grabbed my wallet
and headed out the back of Dr. Westbrook's brownstone. As I came out
from around the back, I casually strolled past the men in the car that were
supposed to be watching me. It worked like a charm . . . they didn't even
flinch. After walking a couple of blocks, I hailed a cab and was off to
the airport.
Chapter 16
Saturday September 6 (later that day), 4:21 PM
The Grand Bank, Grand Cayman Island
"Good Afternoon Mr. Thompson" a well-dressed attendant at the bank
said as he glanced at my forged identification. "I understand that you'd
like to "ID" an account?"
"That's correct," I said calmly.
"May I have the account number?" the man said.
"Sure," I said. I recited it from memory.
After looking into his computer screen and pausing a moment he said,
"Here it is. Ah yes . . . this account has been initialized with a 10 digit
security password. Can you give me the correct 10 digit password for
security purposes sir?"
Once again, I gave
