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During a dream, humankind gets a vision of an upcoming event: each individual on earth will soon be merged with someone of the opposite sex.
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Megan Arvel agrees to keep an eye on Tom's plants while he's away. Little does she know that not paying attention to the fine print will let her live out her exhibitionist dream – for a price.
Hello Megan,
Thank you so much for taking care of my plants while I'm away! It's pretty easy - I've even labeled them so you know which is which.
Monstera Deliciosa: This is the big one in the corner of the dining room. It needs a thorough watering every 1-2 weeks or when the first few inches of soil are dry. IMPORTANT: Don't water after 9 PM.
Prayer Plant: This one lives in the living room, between the armchair and the window. Same as above, but this one tends to be a little more thirsty, so water about every week. It also likes plant food every month added to its pot. Please drain the catch at the bottom of the pot every time you water it.
Krimson Queen: The little one in my office. Please water it thoroughly if the soil is dry – it doesn't like overwatering as it can be susceptible to root rot. For me, this is usually about every week.
Philodendron Brasil: On the window ledge in the kitchen. Same as the Krimson Queen, water about every week until water runs down into the saucer and remove the excess.
As always, if you have any questions at all or if any of the plants aren't doing well, don't hesitate to reach out. See you when I get back!
Thanks!
Tom
---
Summer had the city of San Angeles in a sweltering late-July chokehold. As the sun came up the metropolis was already uncomfortably hot and became increasingly so as it was baked to hazy perfection. Excessive heat advisories were so run-of-the-mill it was safer to assume they were perpetually in effect than not. By the time the afternoon rolled around the only places where one could find any human activity were air-conditioned buildings, swimming pools, or the overcrowded beaches.
Megan Arvel was no exception to this rule, arriving on the palm-dotted strip of sand where at least the steady breeze from the sea provided a modicum of relief. The letter from Tom was the farthest thing from her mind as she slid off her cover-up to reveal her latest article of beachwear: a silver micro bikini. The fabric, obscenely priced considering it was best measured in square centimeters, left nothing save her truly private areas to the imagination. Two tiny triangles clung to her nipples, the matching metallic thong threatening a scandal if she spread her legs too wide. Fuck, I'm such a slut, Megan "chided" herself. The truth was that Megan did this every day on her summer break and had never been happier.
As a child she'd been sheltered, growing up in a small town on the other side of the Amarillo mountains. After coming to Anchor University and getting to be on her own she discovered how much sexual attention from anyone excited her. Megan began dressing in less and less modest clothing and overhauling her wardrobe to show as much skin as she could without catching too many nasty looks from the faculty. During the summer there was no shortage of eager viewers with all the young men – and women – around to stare at her curves on the beach.
She started wading into the crowd to find a good spot, giddy with excitement as people turned to watch her. Some showed disgust, others concern, others interest, others arousal, and still others were too far away to tell. Most of them she couldn't notice – there were too many eyes on her to keep track of. All of them excited Megan. The more excited she got, the more her nipples made the bikini top irrelevant and the more stares her pert B-cups got.
A few more minutes spent negotiating the thin strip of sand that wove between towels led her to a good spot – or a tolerable one, at least. Before her was a gap of sand large enough to lay her towel and not rub elbows with her neighbors. She threw her towel to the wind, slowly bringing it to the scorching sand and spending plenty of time bent double as she adjusted the corners. Megan then produced a bottle of suntan oil from her bag. She began at her shoulders and thoroughly worked her way down her sun-kissed body. As she wrapped up the tops of her feet, she cast a glance around her neighbors. Who's my prey today, she thought, smirking as she surveyed her immediate company. A handful of young, single men were eyeing her rather obviously, but those were easy pickings. A few rows down in front of her, however, she caught a hasty glance away from a man sitting next to a woman.
Megan sauntered over to the couple, doing her best to act demure despite her almost comically lewd beachwear. "Excuse me, sorry to bother you all, but would you mind getting my back?" Megan watched as the one-piece-clad lady shot daggers at the strapping young man, caught in the middle as he sheepishly looked back and forth from Megan to her. Red tint crept onto his cheeks as the awkward silence was punctuated by seagulls wheeling overhead. Wife, Megan noted as she spied the rings the two of them were wearing. Jackpot.
"Ah, ha, ah..." his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Sure, yeah, I - I can get your back." he caved, standing up from his beach chair. Megan lived for the crestfallen look on his wife's face, having to do her best not to break out into a fiendish smile.
"Devon," The wife's tone spoke volumes as she tried to hide her surprise and disappointment that he'd accepted the harlot's offer.
"It'll just be a minute, honey."
Megan could feel her stare at their backs as they made their way to her spot. She laid facedown back at her spot, feeling the heat on her chest as it radiated through the towel. Devon's hands began to rub oil onto her back, traveling down her neck to her shoulder blades, working around her straps as he hastily tried to finish up the small of her back and get back without only a mild tongue-lashing.
"Lower, please." Megan cooed. She felt him hesitate, weigh his options, and finally oblige, hands inching down to where her lithe hips began to blossom out. She could feel her fingers tugging at that place in his heart where lust lives, feel his cheeks reddening, his pulse quicken, a bulge begin taking shape in his swim trunks. Again he paused, and again Megan pushed her luck.
"Lower." Oh my GOD, I'm such a little homewrecker, she thought. Megan certainly wasn't immune to the feeling building in her loins either as Devon's hands began to graze the curves of her ass. Her nipples dug into the towel as her thong did its best to absorb the growing excitement between her legs.
"Lower." Too far – the pause was longer this time, and Megan knew he'd had enough even before he spoke.
"I'm – look, I'm sorry, but I don't really think I should. You should be able to take it from here." Megan rolled onto her side to find Devon exactly as she'd pictured: cheeks on fire, conflicted grimace, and a tent between his legs. Megan made a show of noticing that last point, fixing Devon with a knowing look.
"Suit yourself. I'll be here if you wanna enjoy the show." Devon rose as Megan winked, dosing her hands to finish what he couldn't. She took great pleasure in watching him awkwardly waddle back, trying to tuck his boner into the waistband of his trunks. Her hands worked over her ass cheeks as she took a sinful delight in hearing his partner decry what he'd done. Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight.
A buzz in Megan's beach bag pulled her from her thoughts. She adjusted her sunglasses and took a closer look at her phone, struggling to see through the glare as she angled her hand to get at the screen, now displaying a text from Tom.
Hey Megan! I haven't heard from you - how are the plants doing?
Shit. No sugar coating it. Megan had forgotten about that itsy-bitsy favor Tom had asked before he left for his 6-week trip to Spain. Not that Tom had to know about it, and not that he would know about it, Megan corrected herself.
Hey Tom! No worries, they're doing great.
Megan figured her little white lie would just go unnoticed. It was just a month, wasn't it? Surely the plants were fine, and she could stop in tonight before Tom returned to make it look like she'd been taking care of the plants since he'd left. She'd finish up here and then take care of his plants, simple as that.
The hours melted away as Megan drank in the low whistles and blatant stares that sweltering afternoon. It wasn't until the sun met the horizon that she slipped her cover-up back on and headed for home. Streetlights flickered to life, illuminating overly manicured beachside hotels with hedges and grass so lush it either wasn't real or the sole cause of the city's water crisis. Block after block of luxury property passed as it transitioned to generic cityscape, the sidewalks increasingly cracked after years of thermal cycling and neglect. Megan made a right on Orville Street, heading back to the familiar landscape or discount student apartments that surrounded Anchor University. Once inside she breathed a sigh of deep relaxation, kicking off her flip-flops and adding a fine dusting of sand to the grains already deposited from her daily sojourns to the seaside.
Megan might have called her apartment lived-in, but to the average person, it was just messy. Old textbooks and notes obscured much of the table save the little square where she ate her meals. Clothes of every sort lay scattered as if by the wind, the covers of her bed thrown off and twisted into a knot. To Megan, it wasn't truly messy since she knew where everything was. Laptop? Under the coffee table, beneath the pile of magazines. Spare batteries? Under her bed, somewhere in the box that had that half-open pack of fishnets on it. Easy - she had her system, and if someone thought it was still a dump that was their problem, not hers. Besides, she was still sweating even as she pulled a frozen dinner out of the freezer and stabbed the plastic cover. The last thing she wanted to do with her summer vacation was spend it cleaning her dingy apartment. The ancient window unit struggled mightily to keep the space cool but proved far too weak for summer temperatures.
As the equally Mesozoic microwave hummed life into her lo mein, Megan turned to the only plant she kept in her apartment. It had been given to her by Tom when they had both been freshmen: a little succulent, hardly the size of a tennis ball, and consisting entirely of short, squat green leaves. He had told her its name when he first gave her it, but Megan just called him Sunny. It was the lone plant she hadn't killed in her apartment, largely because it could last months without water. While the others had all become crinkly and brown, Sunny seemed fine with Megan's once-in-a-blue-moon caretaking style. Speaking of which, she noted as she felt the dusty soil in Sunny's cup, giving him a little from the sink as the microwave chirped. It was a miracle that Tom trusted Megan to care for his plants, but then again, he didn't have much choice - most of the residents had gone afield for the summer.
Megan made short work of the MSG-laden dinner, snagged Tom's letter - tucked between the toaster oven and the wall, right where she'd left it - and set off to do damage control. It was scarcely a five minute given they lived in the same complex, deserted halls and sidewalks her only company as she crossed the overgrown central courtyard. Insects crooned all around her as they celebrated the coming of the marginally cooler night air.
Tom's apartment was tidy, far tidier than Megan's. The kitchen table was clear save for the watering can, plant food, and a duplicate of the letter. The vacuum had made its rounds before he left, and the place smelled like citrus-scented cleaner. The only items that looked out of place were the plants. The one in the living room looked like it was dying for water, leaves fringed with a worrying amount of brown and yellow. A panicked search of the other locations turned up similar results.
Pulling out her phone Megan contemplated texting Tom and got halfway through drafting an urgent message before realizing it was the crack of dawn in Europe. Besides, she wanted to seem competent. He'd paid her well to do this and, green thumb or not, she wasn't about to let him down.
A bit of Googling assuaged her fears. The plants, although they all looked a little withered after nearly a month of negligence, would be fine if she just added water in the amounts Tom had put in the letter. She skimmed the letter: dining room, living room, office, kitchen. All were past their due date, so Megan just hefted the watering pail over to the sink and got to it. She set to work, starting with the smaller ones and working her way up to the big one in the dining room. Mentally Megan knew that plants didn't have feelings, but she could swear they perked up the minute she added water and breathed a sigh of relief.
The giant plant in the dining room turned out to be a little difficult to water, as it stood a head taller than she did and was planted in a vessel that bore more resemblance to an urn than a flowerpot. Megan had to delve into the foliage to get close enough to locate the bedding. Emptied the last of the contents into the loamy bedding, Megan was taken aback when a tendril reached out and fastened itself around her wrist. It couldn't have been much thicker than a rubber band but felt like a steel cable, the force of its sudden pull causing the watering can to clatter to the floor. Megan pulled on the tendril in a bid to escape the embrace, only managing to rock the urn slightly and rustle the leaves.
It was then that she vaguely remembered something about not watering one of the plants after 9 PM. So much good that's gonna do me now, she fumed, planting a foot against the urn and pulling until she felt like her shoulder was about to dislocate. The plant, a rather special variant of Monstera Deliciosa known as domina prehenderat, made no haste in catching its prey. Another emerald tendril struck a course for Megan's other wrist as she dove into her pockets for keys to try and slice her way free.
Taking advantage of the tropical plant's lackadaisical nature, Megan wasted no time in taking the makeshift blade to the shoot anchoring her right hand to Tom's flora. While she did manage to get through the outer hide and make some progress in sawing through to the white inner fibers, the Monstera took notice. The second vine hastened its approach as it arrested Megan's left wrist. The end seemed to split into hundreds of hairsbreadth appendages, worming between her fingers and forcing her fingers open, the keys joining the watering pail on the floor.
"What the fuck?" Megan snarled under her breath, half in terror and half in frustration. She'd never seen a plant do anything like this before, and the sight of three more ropey fasteners erupting from the dirt only made Tom's warning that much clearer. She'd never heard of a carnivorous plant that ate humans, but perhaps she was the first such victim.
The next ten minutes made Megan feel as though she was a mouse in a glue trap. She continued resisting, planting her feet and pulling, yanking, even biting the tendrils to try to get free. The monstrous plant plodded on at a speed that seemed almost insultingly unbothered by Megan's protests and resistance. Tendrils grew and spread out all over her body, snaking beneath the cover-up and the micro bikini she'd worn to the beach. Filaments wove up her arms, pulling her in until she had to place her feet into the urn to avoid toppling over. Once there her feet got the same treatment, verdant shoots weaving between her toes, fastening around her ankles, and then gliding up her smooth calves and thighs, the force of their steady tightening burying her feet in the rich, tropical potting soil.
By the time vines were entwining her neck and torso, Megan had given up. Her shouts and grunts of effort and frustration were now a mix of whimpering and morbid fascination as she watched each tendril spread out and adhere to her sun-kissed skin. There were probably worse ways to die, she figured. Like burning alive. Or being shot. Hell, who even said this plant was going to kill her? Maybe Tom just kept a guard plant and would have it unhand her when he returned tomorrow night. Fat chance, she thought as she shook her head at the idea. Guard plant – as if! At least the warning meant Tom in some way knew about this odd feature of his plant. Monstera had now covered virtually all of Megan in its vines, binding her arms down in front of her and the tension keeping her standing upright as it began assimilating its new prey.
The plant had begun to do something new, and Megan could feel it. Little icy pinpricks, starting at her feet and working their way up in rhythmic waves bristled against her skin. She craned her neck, looking down at the cobwebs of vines but not seeing any indication of what was going on – they appeared to be resting peacefully on her. The first few waves hurt a little, but after the initial prickles the cooling sensation felt wonderful on her skin.
No. No, I shouldn't be enjoying this, I should be getting out, Megan corrected herself. She wondered momentarily if she could just knock the plant over and escape, but a few fleeting tries went nowhere, the urn barely budging. Whatever, she figured. If this plant is gonna eat me, at least it's giving me what feels like an upscale spa treatment while doing so.
The little pinpricks were beginning to feel hotter – and deeper. Were they? No – Megan could swear they felt like they were in her muscles, giving her the most thorough deep tissue massage she'd ever received. No pair of hands could match this – it'd take 20 pairs alone to equal the dining room ornament's coverage on Megan's body. She couldn't help herself as her shoulders relaxed, her core loosened, and the tightness in her glutes and calves released. Megan let out a deep breath, unaware of the potent dose of muscle relaxants the Monstera was pumping directly into her bloodstream – plus a cocktail of mutation enzymes. Even if she were, there wasn't much she could do.
Just as she was beginning to look back up and close her eyes, Megan spied something that made her do a double-take. Right there, right on her thigh, a little green splotch had begun to slowly bloom. She blinked, but it remained there. A few dazzled moments later, another began to spread out over her midsection, a rough circle that seemed to spread like moss beneath her skin, turning it from a healthy bronze to a shiny emerald texture. She involuntarily squirmed as the restraints held her in place, more patches blooming on her tits, her ass, her shoulders, arms, hands, neck, and even face if she could see it. Nowhere was safe as the Monstera remade Megan in its image, giving her a healthy, glossy, viridescent skin that, if touched, would give one the impression of ripe fruit.
Megan was stunned into silence as she drank in her changes. It was only now that she realized her legs couldn't move. She could move her hips a little, and bend at the knee, but her legs were welded together where they had once touched, save her thigh gap. They still presented as two distinct pillars supporting her, but in appearance only. Her feet, too, were gone. She couldn't feel them anymore – when she wiggled her toes, everything felt stiff and rigid, the closest sensation she could call to mind being when she used to bury her feet in mud as a kid. She carefully bent at her waist and knees to investigate further. Sure enough, as she probed beneath the soil, her feet had morphed into countless intertwining brown roots – or perhaps merged with the Monstera's roots, it was impossible to tell. It was all the same, Megan able to feel the contours of her urn as she got used to the sensation of her new root system.
Pricks of pain bubbled up on Megan's scalp, her hands immediately seeking the source of the sudden pain. The skin of her scalp felt like it was melting, layers peeling away alarmingly quickly. Pulling her hands away made her stomach drop a little: both gripped chunks of her chestnut hair, shockingly untainted given the rest of her body. Well, maybe being bald isn't the worst thing given... this, she thought as she glanced down at her verdant coloration. Megan had to immediately eat her words. She wasn't going bald at all; she felt a familiar weight returning that had been lifted moments ago, growing out from her head and rolling down her shoulders. Whatever it was, it wasn't hair - it didn't feel soft or fuzzy but rather cool and springy. Megan was a little afraid to see what had transpired but forced a hand to her head anyway. Holding it out so she could see, a frond of Monstera Deliciosa loomed over her face, hand-like leaves letting light trickle between their fenestrations. The rest of her hair was the same, long vines studded with leaves that grew right out from her head. No more shampoo, I guess, Megan thought. The fact that, of all things, that was what her stressed-out mind came up with when confronted with what was before her made her laugh, if only at the absurdity of her situation.
To Megan's surprise, the nearly exhausted plant had one last change in store for her. She began feeling a pulsing in the core of her body, just below the ribcage. It was subtle at first but as it grew and began to encompass more and more of her body in waves, each one stronger than the last. Her leaves quivered in anticipation with each passing flux before she began to notice what was taking shape. A tightness developed in her breasts and hips, and with each pulse her body felt like it was about to burst. In minutes the erogenous zones were so tight as to render them immobile, feeling uncomfortable pressure under her jade skin.
All at once, just when it began to border on genuine pain, the pulses stopped – and the release began. Megan felt the pressure ease as her curves began to swell. They were slow at first but gathered steam at an alarming rate. Her tits pushed out well beyond what her micro bikini could handle, the straps digging into her new bosom before it snapped the strings and sent it to the floor in tatters. Her hips followed suit, her expanding ass and thighs first swallowing the thong she had on before tearing it at the seams and spitting it onto the floor.
As Megan was about to reach out and touch her swollen chest, she felt a sensation that made her repeat the motion. There it was - her hand had grazed a leaf, and not one from her head. She had felt it. As she did so again and again, she felt it again and again. She tried with other leaves to her right and back, and it was all the same. Every time she touched them, she felt not only the frond on her hand but her hand on the frond as well. It made sense, in the same way that none of this made sense. When she examined the roots, there wasn't a distinction between what had been her feet, now her roots, and the original plant's roots. They were now the same, intertwined at the physical and, she could only imagine, genetic level.
Thankfully it was over. All she could see before her were her new massive boobs, obscuring the rest of her body. They must have grown at least four or five cup sizes, topped off by puffy dark green nipples that yearned for attention. Craning her neck she could see what had been done to her ass. It appeared to be modeled on beach balls, each one a globe in its own right and connected to a thick, plush thigh. Nestled between these pillowy new assets lay a fat camel toe, Megan's clit turned a matching shade to her nipples and displayed prominently, swollen so large it eclipsed her hood.
Megan's hand felt herself up, unable to believe what had happened in such a short time. To top it off, Tom was returning tomorrow – and what was he going to think when he found her like this? Megan smirked as the naughty part of her mind made a few suggestions as to what he might think – and do – but only time would tell how he'd react to Megan becoming one with his houseplants.
---
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it - feedback is always appreciated.
Hello Megan,
Thank you so much for taking care of my plants while I'm away! It's pretty easy - I've even labeled them so you know which is which.
Monstera Deliciosa: This is the big one in the corner of the dining room. It needs a thorough watering every 1-2 weeks or when the first few inches of soil are dry. IMPORTANT: Don't water after 9 PM.
Prayer Plant: This one lives in the living room, between the armchair and the window. Same as above, but this one tends to be a little more thirsty, so water about every week. It also likes plant food every month added to its pot. Please drain the catch at the bottom of the pot every time you water it.
Krimson Queen: The little one in my office. Please water it thoroughly if the soil is dry – it doesn't like overwatering as it can be susceptible to root rot. For me, this is usually about every week.
Philodendron Brasil: On the window ledge in the kitchen. Same as the Krimson Queen, water about every week until water runs down into the saucer and remove the excess.
As always, if you have any questions at all or if any of the plants aren't doing well, don't hesitate to reach out. See you when I get back!
Thanks!
Tom
---
Summer had the city of San Angeles in a sweltering late-July chokehold. As the sun came up the metropolis was already uncomfortably hot and became increasingly so as it was baked to hazy perfection. Excessive heat advisories were so run-of-the-mill it was safer to assume they were perpetually in effect than not. By the time the afternoon rolled around the only places where one could find any human activity were air-conditioned buildings, swimming pools, or the overcrowded beaches.
Megan Arvel was no exception to this rule, arriving on the palm-dotted strip of sand where at least the steady breeze from the sea provided a modicum of relief. The letter from Tom was the farthest thing from her mind as she slid off her cover-up to reveal her latest article of beachwear: a silver micro bikini. The fabric, obscenely priced considering it was best measured in square centimeters, left nothing save her truly private areas to the imagination. Two tiny triangles clung to her nipples, the matching metallic thong threatening a scandal if she spread her legs too wide. Fuck, I'm such a slut, Megan "chided" herself. The truth was that Megan did this every day on her summer break and had never been happier.
As a child she'd been sheltered, growing up in a small town on the other side of the Amarillo mountains. After coming to Anchor University and getting to be on her own she discovered how much sexual attention from anyone excited her. Megan began dressing in less and less modest clothing and overhauling her wardrobe to show as much skin as she could without catching too many nasty looks from the faculty. During the summer there was no shortage of eager viewers with all the young men – and women – around to stare at her curves on the beach.
She started wading into the crowd to find a good spot, giddy with excitement as people turned to watch her. Some showed disgust, others concern, others interest, others arousal, and still others were too far away to tell. Most of them she couldn't notice – there were too many eyes on her to keep track of. All of them excited Megan. The more excited she got, the more her nipples made the bikini top irrelevant and the more stares her pert B-cups got.
A few more minutes spent negotiating the thin strip of sand that wove between towels led her to a good spot – or a tolerable one, at least. Before her was a gap of sand large enough to lay her towel and not rub elbows with her neighbors. She threw her towel to the wind, slowly bringing it to the scorching sand and spending plenty of time bent double as she adjusted the corners. Megan then produced a bottle of suntan oil from her bag. She began at her shoulders and thoroughly worked her way down her sun-kissed body. As she wrapped up the tops of her feet, she cast a glance around her neighbors. Who's my prey today, she thought, smirking as she surveyed her immediate company. A handful of young, single men were eyeing her rather obviously, but those were easy pickings. A few rows down in front of her, however, she caught a hasty glance away from a man sitting next to a woman.
Megan sauntered over to the couple, doing her best to act demure despite her almost comically lewd beachwear. "Excuse me, sorry to bother you all, but would you mind getting my back?" Megan watched as the one-piece-clad lady shot daggers at the strapping young man, caught in the middle as he sheepishly looked back and forth from Megan to her. Red tint crept onto his cheeks as the awkward silence was punctuated by seagulls wheeling overhead. Wife, Megan noted as she spied the rings the two of them were wearing. Jackpot.
"Ah, ha, ah..." his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Sure, yeah, I - I can get your back." he caved, standing up from his beach chair. Megan lived for the crestfallen look on his wife's face, having to do her best not to break out into a fiendish smile.
"Devon," The wife's tone spoke volumes as she tried to hide her surprise and disappointment that he'd accepted the harlot's offer.
"It'll just be a minute, honey."
Megan could feel her stare at their backs as they made their way to her spot. She laid facedown back at her spot, feeling the heat on her chest as it radiated through the towel. Devon's hands began to rub oil onto her back, traveling down her neck to her shoulder blades, working around her straps as he hastily tried to finish up the small of her back and get back without only a mild tongue-lashing.
"Lower, please." Megan cooed. She felt him hesitate, weigh his options, and finally oblige, hands inching down to where her lithe hips began to blossom out. She could feel her fingers tugging at that place in his heart where lust lives, feel his cheeks reddening, his pulse quicken, a bulge begin taking shape in his swim trunks. Again he paused, and again Megan pushed her luck.
"Lower." Oh my GOD, I'm such a little homewrecker, she thought. Megan certainly wasn't immune to the feeling building in her loins either as Devon's hands began to graze the curves of her ass. Her nipples dug into the towel as her thong did its best to absorb the growing excitement between her legs.
"Lower." Too far – the pause was longer this time, and Megan knew he'd had enough even before he spoke.
"I'm – look, I'm sorry, but I don't really think I should. You should be able to take it from here." Megan rolled onto her side to find Devon exactly as she'd pictured: cheeks on fire, conflicted grimace, and a tent between his legs. Megan made a show of noticing that last point, fixing Devon with a knowing look.
"Suit yourself. I'll be here if you wanna enjoy the show." Devon rose as Megan winked, dosing her hands to finish what he couldn't. She took great pleasure in watching him awkwardly waddle back, trying to tuck his boner into the waistband of his trunks. Her hands worked over her ass cheeks as she took a sinful delight in hearing his partner decry what he'd done. Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight.
A buzz in Megan's beach bag pulled her from her thoughts. She adjusted her sunglasses and took a closer look at her phone, struggling to see through the glare as she angled her hand to get at the screen, now displaying a text from Tom.
Hey Megan! I haven't heard from you - how are the plants doing?
Shit. No sugar coating it. Megan had forgotten about that itsy-bitsy favor Tom had asked before he left for his 6-week trip to Spain. Not that Tom had to know about it, and not that he would know about it, Megan corrected herself.
Hey Tom! No worries, they're doing great.
Megan figured her little white lie would just go unnoticed. It was just a month, wasn't it? Surely the plants were fine, and she could stop in tonight before Tom returned to make it look like she'd been taking care of the plants since he'd left. She'd finish up here and then take care of his plants, simple as that.
The hours melted away as Megan drank in the low whistles and blatant stares that sweltering afternoon. It wasn't until the sun met the horizon that she slipped her cover-up back on and headed for home. Streetlights flickered to life, illuminating overly manicured beachside hotels with hedges and grass so lush it either wasn't real or the sole cause of the city's water crisis. Block after block of luxury property passed as it transitioned to generic cityscape, the sidewalks increasingly cracked after years of thermal cycling and neglect. Megan made a right on Orville Street, heading back to the familiar landscape or discount student apartments that surrounded Anchor University. Once inside she breathed a sigh of deep relaxation, kicking off her flip-flops and adding a fine dusting of sand to the grains already deposited from her daily sojourns to the seaside.
Megan might have called her apartment lived-in, but to the average person, it was just messy. Old textbooks and notes obscured much of the table save the little square where she ate her meals. Clothes of every sort lay scattered as if by the wind, the covers of her bed thrown off and twisted into a knot. To Megan, it wasn't truly messy since she knew where everything was. Laptop? Under the coffee table, beneath the pile of magazines. Spare batteries? Under her bed, somewhere in the box that had that half-open pack of fishnets on it. Easy - she had her system, and if someone thought it was still a dump that was their problem, not hers. Besides, she was still sweating even as she pulled a frozen dinner out of the freezer and stabbed the plastic cover. The last thing she wanted to do with her summer vacation was spend it cleaning her dingy apartment. The ancient window unit struggled mightily to keep the space cool but proved far too weak for summer temperatures.
As the equally Mesozoic microwave hummed life into her lo mein, Megan turned to the only plant she kept in her apartment. It had been given to her by Tom when they had both been freshmen: a little succulent, hardly the size of a tennis ball, and consisting entirely of short, squat green leaves. He had told her its name when he first gave her it, but Megan just called him Sunny. It was the lone plant she hadn't killed in her apartment, largely because it could last months without water. While the others had all become crinkly and brown, Sunny seemed fine with Megan's once-in-a-blue-moon caretaking style. Speaking of which, she noted as she felt the dusty soil in Sunny's cup, giving him a little from the sink as the microwave chirped. It was a miracle that Tom trusted Megan to care for his plants, but then again, he didn't have much choice - most of the residents had gone afield for the summer.
Megan made short work of the MSG-laden dinner, snagged Tom's letter - tucked between the toaster oven and the wall, right where she'd left it - and set off to do damage control. It was scarcely a five minute given they lived in the same complex, deserted halls and sidewalks her only company as she crossed the overgrown central courtyard. Insects crooned all around her as they celebrated the coming of the marginally cooler night air.
Tom's apartment was tidy, far tidier than Megan's. The kitchen table was clear save for the watering can, plant food, and a duplicate of the letter. The vacuum had made its rounds before he left, and the place smelled like citrus-scented cleaner. The only items that looked out of place were the plants. The one in the living room looked like it was dying for water, leaves fringed with a worrying amount of brown and yellow. A panicked search of the other locations turned up similar results.
Pulling out her phone Megan contemplated texting Tom and got halfway through drafting an urgent message before realizing it was the crack of dawn in Europe. Besides, she wanted to seem competent. He'd paid her well to do this and, green thumb or not, she wasn't about to let him down.
A bit of Googling assuaged her fears. The plants, although they all looked a little withered after nearly a month of negligence, would be fine if she just added water in the amounts Tom had put in the letter. She skimmed the letter: dining room, living room, office, kitchen. All were past their due date, so Megan just hefted the watering pail over to the sink and got to it. She set to work, starting with the smaller ones and working her way up to the big one in the dining room. Mentally Megan knew that plants didn't have feelings, but she could swear they perked up the minute she added water and breathed a sigh of relief.
The giant plant in the dining room turned out to be a little difficult to water, as it stood a head taller than she did and was planted in a vessel that bore more resemblance to an urn than a flowerpot. Megan had to delve into the foliage to get close enough to locate the bedding. Emptied the last of the contents into the loamy bedding, Megan was taken aback when a tendril reached out and fastened itself around her wrist. It couldn't have been much thicker than a rubber band but felt like a steel cable, the force of its sudden pull causing the watering can to clatter to the floor. Megan pulled on the tendril in a bid to escape the embrace, only managing to rock the urn slightly and rustle the leaves.
It was then that she vaguely remembered something about not watering one of the plants after 9 PM. So much good that's gonna do me now, she fumed, planting a foot against the urn and pulling until she felt like her shoulder was about to dislocate. The plant, a rather special variant of Monstera Deliciosa known as domina prehenderat, made no haste in catching its prey. Another emerald tendril struck a course for Megan's other wrist as she dove into her pockets for keys to try and slice her way free.
Taking advantage of the tropical plant's lackadaisical nature, Megan wasted no time in taking the makeshift blade to the shoot anchoring her right hand to Tom's flora. While she did manage to get through the outer hide and make some progress in sawing through to the white inner fibers, the Monstera took notice. The second vine hastened its approach as it arrested Megan's left wrist. The end seemed to split into hundreds of hairsbreadth appendages, worming between her fingers and forcing her fingers open, the keys joining the watering pail on the floor.
"What the fuck?" Megan snarled under her breath, half in terror and half in frustration. She'd never seen a plant do anything like this before, and the sight of three more ropey fasteners erupting from the dirt only made Tom's warning that much clearer. She'd never heard of a carnivorous plant that ate humans, but perhaps she was the first such victim.
The next ten minutes made Megan feel as though she was a mouse in a glue trap. She continued resisting, planting her feet and pulling, yanking, even biting the tendrils to try to get free. The monstrous plant plodded on at a speed that seemed almost insultingly unbothered by Megan's protests and resistance. Tendrils grew and spread out all over her body, snaking beneath the cover-up and the micro bikini she'd worn to the beach. Filaments wove up her arms, pulling her in until she had to place her feet into the urn to avoid toppling over. Once there her feet got the same treatment, verdant shoots weaving between her toes, fastening around her ankles, and then gliding up her smooth calves and thighs, the force of their steady tightening burying her feet in the rich, tropical potting soil.
By the time vines were entwining her neck and torso, Megan had given up. Her shouts and grunts of effort and frustration were now a mix of whimpering and morbid fascination as she watched each tendril spread out and adhere to her sun-kissed skin. There were probably worse ways to die, she figured. Like burning alive. Or being shot. Hell, who even said this plant was going to kill her? Maybe Tom just kept a guard plant and would have it unhand her when he returned tomorrow night. Fat chance, she thought as she shook her head at the idea. Guard plant – as if! At least the warning meant Tom in some way knew about this odd feature of his plant. Monstera had now covered virtually all of Megan in its vines, binding her arms down in front of her and the tension keeping her standing upright as it began assimilating its new prey.
The plant had begun to do something new, and Megan could feel it. Little icy pinpricks, starting at her feet and working their way up in rhythmic waves bristled against her skin. She craned her neck, looking down at the cobwebs of vines but not seeing any indication of what was going on – they appeared to be resting peacefully on her. The first few waves hurt a little, but after the initial prickles the cooling sensation felt wonderful on her skin.
No. No, I shouldn't be enjoying this, I should be getting out, Megan corrected herself. She wondered momentarily if she could just knock the plant over and escape, but a few fleeting tries went nowhere, the urn barely budging. Whatever, she figured. If this plant is gonna eat me, at least it's giving me what feels like an upscale spa treatment while doing so.
The little pinpricks were beginning to feel hotter – and deeper. Were they? No – Megan could swear they felt like they were in her muscles, giving her the most thorough deep tissue massage she'd ever received. No pair of hands could match this – it'd take 20 pairs alone to equal the dining room ornament's coverage on Megan's body. She couldn't help herself as her shoulders relaxed, her core loosened, and the tightness in her glutes and calves released. Megan let out a deep breath, unaware of the potent dose of muscle relaxants the Monstera was pumping directly into her bloodstream – plus a cocktail of mutation enzymes. Even if she were, there wasn't much she could do.
Just as she was beginning to look back up and close her eyes, Megan spied something that made her do a double-take. Right there, right on her thigh, a little green splotch had begun to slowly bloom. She blinked, but it remained there. A few dazzled moments later, another began to spread out over her midsection, a rough circle that seemed to spread like moss beneath her skin, turning it from a healthy bronze to a shiny emerald texture. She involuntarily squirmed as the restraints held her in place, more patches blooming on her tits, her ass, her shoulders, arms, hands, neck, and even face if she could see it. Nowhere was safe as the Monstera remade Megan in its image, giving her a healthy, glossy, viridescent skin that, if touched, would give one the impression of ripe fruit.
Megan was stunned into silence as she drank in her changes. It was only now that she realized her legs couldn't move. She could move her hips a little, and bend at the knee, but her legs were welded together where they had once touched, save her thigh gap. They still presented as two distinct pillars supporting her, but in appearance only. Her feet, too, were gone. She couldn't feel them anymore – when she wiggled her toes, everything felt stiff and rigid, the closest sensation she could call to mind being when she used to bury her feet in mud as a kid. She carefully bent at her waist and knees to investigate further. Sure enough, as she probed beneath the soil, her feet had morphed into countless intertwining brown roots – or perhaps merged with the Monstera's roots, it was impossible to tell. It was all the same, Megan able to feel the contours of her urn as she got used to the sensation of her new root system.
Pricks of pain bubbled up on Megan's scalp, her hands immediately seeking the source of the sudden pain. The skin of her scalp felt like it was melting, layers peeling away alarmingly quickly. Pulling her hands away made her stomach drop a little: both gripped chunks of her chestnut hair, shockingly untainted given the rest of her body. Well, maybe being bald isn't the worst thing given... this, she thought as she glanced down at her verdant coloration. Megan had to immediately eat her words. She wasn't going bald at all; she felt a familiar weight returning that had been lifted moments ago, growing out from her head and rolling down her shoulders. Whatever it was, it wasn't hair - it didn't feel soft or fuzzy but rather cool and springy. Megan was a little afraid to see what had transpired but forced a hand to her head anyway. Holding it out so she could see, a frond of Monstera Deliciosa loomed over her face, hand-like leaves letting light trickle between their fenestrations. The rest of her hair was the same, long vines studded with leaves that grew right out from her head. No more shampoo, I guess, Megan thought. The fact that, of all things, that was what her stressed-out mind came up with when confronted with what was before her made her laugh, if only at the absurdity of her situation.
To Megan's surprise, the nearly exhausted plant had one last change in store for her. She began feeling a pulsing in the core of her body, just below the ribcage. It was subtle at first but as it grew and began to encompass more and more of her body in waves, each one stronger than the last. Her leaves quivered in anticipation with each passing flux before she began to notice what was taking shape. A tightness developed in her breasts and hips, and with each pulse her body felt like it was about to burst. In minutes the erogenous zones were so tight as to render them immobile, feeling uncomfortable pressure under her jade skin.
All at once, just when it began to border on genuine pain, the pulses stopped – and the release began. Megan felt the pressure ease as her curves began to swell. They were slow at first but gathered steam at an alarming rate. Her tits pushed out well beyond what her micro bikini could handle, the straps digging into her new bosom before it snapped the strings and sent it to the floor in tatters. Her hips followed suit, her expanding ass and thighs first swallowing the thong she had on before tearing it at the seams and spitting it onto the floor.
As Megan was about to reach out and touch her swollen chest, she felt a sensation that made her repeat the motion. There it was - her hand had grazed a leaf, and not one from her head. She had felt it. As she did so again and again, she felt it again and again. She tried with other leaves to her right and back, and it was all the same. Every time she touched them, she felt not only the frond on her hand but her hand on the frond as well. It made sense, in the same way that none of this made sense. When she examined the roots, there wasn't a distinction between what had been her feet, now her roots, and the original plant's roots. They were now the same, intertwined at the physical and, she could only imagine, genetic level.
Thankfully it was over. All she could see before her were her new massive boobs, obscuring the rest of her body. They must have grown at least four or five cup sizes, topped off by puffy dark green nipples that yearned for attention. Craning her neck she could see what had been done to her ass. It appeared to be modeled on beach balls, each one a globe in its own right and connected to a thick, plush thigh. Nestled between these pillowy new assets lay a fat camel toe, Megan's clit turned a matching shade to her nipples and displayed prominently, swollen so large it eclipsed her hood.
Megan's hand felt herself up, unable to believe what had happened in such a short time. To top it off, Tom was returning tomorrow – and what was he going to think when he found her like this? Megan smirked as the naughty part of her mind made a few suggestions as to what he might think – and do – but only time would tell how he'd react to Megan becoming one with his houseplants.
---
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it - feedback is always appreciated.
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I try not to think of myself as the bad guy. Yes, I found myself involved in the development of mind-control technology, but I did my best to protect the world from the worst of it. After that, things just kind of happened on their own.At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of three fellow human beings and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistants and sex slaves, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
* * *
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to plug a single thought out of one hand and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
* * *
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, I was left with only one option.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
* * *
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of three fellow human beings and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistants and sex slaves, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
* * *
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to plug a single thought out of one hand and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
* * *
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, I was left with only one option.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
* * *
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
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Here's a RWBY incest fanfiction that I drawed up. Now, before entering, I must warn you of the content within: there will be violence. There will be blood. There will be murder. There will be incestuous relations. There will be heartbreak (probably). And there will be Sprite. If ANY of that is too uncomfortable for you, please look elsewhere. Everyone else, happy reading.Also, this is serving as a prototype for mixing story and porn. Both are great on their own, but together, they're unmatched. So I wanna try my hand with it. So hopefully, ya like it....alright, dassitdassall.
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During a dream, humankind gets a vision of an upcoming event: each individual on earth will soon be merged with someone of the opposite sex.
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Megan Arvel agrees to keep an eye on Tom's plants while he's away. Little does she know that not paying attention to the fine print will let her live out her exhibitionist dream – for a price.
Hello Megan,
Thank you so much for taking care of my plants while I'm away! It's pretty easy - I've even labeled them so you know which is which.
Monstera Deliciosa: This is the big one in the corner of the dining room. It needs a thorough watering every 1-2 weeks or when the first few inches of soil are dry. IMPORTANT: Don't water after 9 PM.
Prayer Plant: This one lives in the living room, between the armchair and the window. Same as above, but this one tends to be a little more thirsty, so water about every week. It also likes plant food every month added to its pot. Please drain the catch at the bottom of the pot every time you water it.
Krimson Queen: The little one in my office. Please water it thoroughly if the soil is dry – it doesn't like overwatering as it can be susceptible to root rot. For me, this is usually about every week.
Philodendron Brasil: On the window ledge in the kitchen. Same as the Krimson Queen, water about every week until water runs down into the saucer and remove the excess.
As always, if you have any questions at all or if any of the plants aren't doing well, don't hesitate to reach out. See you when I get back!
Thanks!
Tom
---
Summer had the city of San Angeles in a sweltering late-July chokehold. As the sun came up the metropolis was already uncomfortably hot and became increasingly so as it was baked to hazy perfection. Excessive heat advisories were so run-of-the-mill it was safer to assume they were perpetually in effect than not. By the time the afternoon rolled around the only places where one could find any human activity were air-conditioned buildings, swimming pools, or the overcrowded beaches.
Megan Arvel was no exception to this rule, arriving on the palm-dotted strip of sand where at least the steady breeze from the sea provided a modicum of relief. The letter from Tom was the farthest thing from her mind as she slid off her cover-up to reveal her latest article of beachwear: a silver micro bikini. The fabric, obscenely priced considering it was best measured in square centimeters, left nothing save her truly private areas to the imagination. Two tiny triangles clung to her nipples, the matching metallic thong threatening a scandal if she spread her legs too wide. Fuck, I'm such a slut, Megan "chided" herself. The truth was that Megan did this every day on her summer break and had never been happier.
As a child she'd been sheltered, growing up in a small town on the other side of the Amarillo mountains. After coming to Anchor University and getting to be on her own she discovered how much sexual attention from anyone excited her. Megan began dressing in less and less modest clothing and overhauling her wardrobe to show as much skin as she could without catching too many nasty looks from the faculty. During the summer there was no shortage of eager viewers with all the young men – and women – around to stare at her curves on the beach.
She started wading into the crowd to find a good spot, giddy with excitement as people turned to watch her. Some showed disgust, others concern, others interest, others arousal, and still others were too far away to tell. Most of them she couldn't notice – there were too many eyes on her to keep track of. All of them excited Megan. The more excited she got, the more her nipples made the bikini top irrelevant and the more stares her pert B-cups got.
A few more minutes spent negotiating the thin strip of sand that wove between towels led her to a good spot – or a tolerable one, at least. Before her was a gap of sand large enough to lay her towel and not rub elbows with her neighbors. She threw her towel to the wind, slowly bringing it to the scorching sand and spending plenty of time bent double as she adjusted the corners. Megan then produced a bottle of suntan oil from her bag. She began at her shoulders and thoroughly worked her way down her sun-kissed body. As she wrapped up the tops of her feet, she cast a glance around her neighbors. Who's my prey today, she thought, smirking as she surveyed her immediate company. A handful of young, single men were eyeing her rather obviously, but those were easy pickings. A few rows down in front of her, however, she caught a hasty glance away from a man sitting next to a woman.
Megan sauntered over to the couple, doing her best to act demure despite her almost comically lewd beachwear. "Excuse me, sorry to bother you all, but would you mind getting my back?" Megan watched as the one-piece-clad lady shot daggers at the strapping young man, caught in the middle as he sheepishly looked back and forth from Megan to her. Red tint crept onto his cheeks as the awkward silence was punctuated by seagulls wheeling overhead. Wife, Megan noted as she spied the rings the two of them were wearing. Jackpot.
"Ah, ha, ah..." his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Sure, yeah, I - I can get your back." he caved, standing up from his beach chair. Megan lived for the crestfallen look on his wife's face, having to do her best not to break out into a fiendish smile.
"Devon," The wife's tone spoke volumes as she tried to hide her surprise and disappointment that he'd accepted the harlot's offer.
"It'll just be a minute, honey."
Megan could feel her stare at their backs as they made their way to her spot. She laid facedown back at her spot, feeling the heat on her chest as it radiated through the towel. Devon's hands began to rub oil onto her back, traveling down her neck to her shoulder blades, working around her straps as he hastily tried to finish up the small of her back and get back without only a mild tongue-lashing.
"Lower, please." Megan cooed. She felt him hesitate, weigh his options, and finally oblige, hands inching down to where her lithe hips began to blossom out. She could feel her fingers tugging at that place in his heart where lust lives, feel his cheeks reddening, his pulse quicken, a bulge begin taking shape in his swim trunks. Again he paused, and again Megan pushed her luck.
"Lower." Oh my GOD, I'm such a little homewrecker, she thought. Megan certainly wasn't immune to the feeling building in her loins either as Devon's hands began to graze the curves of her ass. Her nipples dug into the towel as her thong did its best to absorb the growing excitement between her legs.
"Lower." Too far – the pause was longer this time, and Megan knew he'd had enough even before he spoke.
"I'm – look, I'm sorry, but I don't really think I should. You should be able to take it from here." Megan rolled onto her side to find Devon exactly as she'd pictured: cheeks on fire, conflicted grimace, and a tent between his legs. Megan made a show of noticing that last point, fixing Devon with a knowing look.
"Suit yourself. I'll be here if you wanna enjoy the show." Devon rose as Megan winked, dosing her hands to finish what he couldn't. She took great pleasure in watching him awkwardly waddle back, trying to tuck his boner into the waistband of his trunks. Her hands worked over her ass cheeks as she took a sinful delight in hearing his partner decry what he'd done. Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight.
A buzz in Megan's beach bag pulled her from her thoughts. She adjusted her sunglasses and took a closer look at her phone, struggling to see through the glare as she angled her hand to get at the screen, now displaying a text from Tom.
Hey Megan! I haven't heard from you - how are the plants doing?
Shit. No sugar coating it. Megan had forgotten about that itsy-bitsy favor Tom had asked before he left for his 6-week trip to Spain. Not that Tom had to know about it, and not that he would know about it, Megan corrected herself.
Hey Tom! No worries, they're doing great.
Megan figured her little white lie would just go unnoticed. It was just a month, wasn't it? Surely the plants were fine, and she could stop in tonight before Tom returned to make it look like she'd been taking care of the plants since he'd left. She'd finish up here and then take care of his plants, simple as that.
The hours melted away as Megan drank in the low whistles and blatant stares that sweltering afternoon. It wasn't until the sun met the horizon that she slipped her cover-up back on and headed for home. Streetlights flickered to life, illuminating overly manicured beachside hotels with hedges and grass so lush it either wasn't real or the sole cause of the city's water crisis. Block after block of luxury property passed as it transitioned to generic cityscape, the sidewalks increasingly cracked after years of thermal cycling and neglect. Megan made a right on Orville Street, heading back to the familiar landscape or discount student apartments that surrounded Anchor University. Once inside she breathed a sigh of deep relaxation, kicking off her flip-flops and adding a fine dusting of sand to the grains already deposited from her daily sojourns to the seaside.
Megan might have called her apartment lived-in, but to the average person, it was just messy. Old textbooks and notes obscured much of the table save the little square where she ate her meals. Clothes of every sort lay scattered as if by the wind, the covers of her bed thrown off and twisted into a knot. To Megan, it wasn't truly messy since she knew where everything was. Laptop? Under the coffee table, beneath the pile of magazines. Spare batteries? Under her bed, somewhere in the box that had that half-open pack of fishnets on it. Easy - she had her system, and if someone thought it was still a dump that was their problem, not hers. Besides, she was still sweating even as she pulled a frozen dinner out of the freezer and stabbed the plastic cover. The last thing she wanted to do with her summer vacation was spend it cleaning her dingy apartment. The ancient window unit struggled mightily to keep the space cool but proved far too weak for summer temperatures.
As the equally Mesozoic microwave hummed life into her lo mein, Megan turned to the only plant she kept in her apartment. It had been given to her by Tom when they had both been freshmen: a little succulent, hardly the size of a tennis ball, and consisting entirely of short, squat green leaves. He had told her its name when he first gave her it, but Megan just called him Sunny. It was the lone plant she hadn't killed in her apartment, largely because it could last months without water. While the others had all become crinkly and brown, Sunny seemed fine with Megan's once-in-a-blue-moon caretaking style. Speaking of which, she noted as she felt the dusty soil in Sunny's cup, giving him a little from the sink as the microwave chirped. It was a miracle that Tom trusted Megan to care for his plants, but then again, he didn't have much choice - most of the residents had gone afield for the summer.
Megan made short work of the MSG-laden dinner, snagged Tom's letter - tucked between the toaster oven and the wall, right where she'd left it - and set off to do damage control. It was scarcely a five minute given they lived in the same complex, deserted halls and sidewalks her only company as she crossed the overgrown central courtyard. Insects crooned all around her as they celebrated the coming of the marginally cooler night air.
Tom's apartment was tidy, far tidier than Megan's. The kitchen table was clear save for the watering can, plant food, and a duplicate of the letter. The vacuum had made its rounds before he left, and the place smelled like citrus-scented cleaner. The only items that looked out of place were the plants. The one in the living room looked like it was dying for water, leaves fringed with a worrying amount of brown and yellow. A panicked search of the other locations turned up similar results.
Pulling out her phone Megan contemplated texting Tom and got halfway through drafting an urgent message before realizing it was the crack of dawn in Europe. Besides, she wanted to seem competent. He'd paid her well to do this and, green thumb or not, she wasn't about to let him down.
A bit of Googling assuaged her fears. The plants, although they all looked a little withered after nearly a month of negligence, would be fine if she just added water in the amounts Tom had put in the letter. She skimmed the letter: dining room, living room, office, kitchen. All were past their due date, so Megan just hefted the watering pail over to the sink and got to it. She set to work, starting with the smaller ones and working her way up to the big one in the dining room. Mentally Megan knew that plants didn't have feelings, but she could swear they perked up the minute she added water and breathed a sigh of relief.
The giant plant in the dining room turned out to be a little difficult to water, as it stood a head taller than she did and was planted in a vessel that bore more resemblance to an urn than a flowerpot. Megan had to delve into the foliage to get close enough to locate the bedding. Emptied the last of the contents into the loamy bedding, Megan was taken aback when a tendril reached out and fastened itself around her wrist. It couldn't have been much thicker than a rubber band but felt like a steel cable, the force of its sudden pull causing the watering can to clatter to the floor. Megan pulled on the tendril in a bid to escape the embrace, only managing to rock the urn slightly and rustle the leaves.
It was then that she vaguely remembered something about not watering one of the plants after 9 PM. So much good that's gonna do me now, she fumed, planting a foot against the urn and pulling until she felt like her shoulder was about to dislocate. The plant, a rather special variant of Monstera Deliciosa known as domina prehenderat, made no haste in catching its prey. Another emerald tendril struck a course for Megan's other wrist as she dove into her pockets for keys to try and slice her way free.
Taking advantage of the tropical plant's lackadaisical nature, Megan wasted no time in taking the makeshift blade to the shoot anchoring her right hand to Tom's flora. While she did manage to get through the outer hide and make some progress in sawing through to the white inner fibers, the Monstera took notice. The second vine hastened its approach as it arrested Megan's left wrist. The end seemed to split into hundreds of hairsbreadth appendages, worming between her fingers and forcing her fingers open, the keys joining the watering pail on the floor.
"What the fuck?" Megan snarled under her breath, half in terror and half in frustration. She'd never seen a plant do anything like this before, and the sight of three more ropey fasteners erupting from the dirt only made Tom's warning that much clearer. She'd never heard of a carnivorous plant that ate humans, but perhaps she was the first such victim.
The next ten minutes made Megan feel as though she was a mouse in a glue trap. She continued resisting, planting her feet and pulling, yanking, even biting the tendrils to try to get free. The monstrous plant plodded on at a speed that seemed almost insultingly unbothered by Megan's protests and resistance. Tendrils grew and spread out all over her body, snaking beneath the cover-up and the micro bikini she'd worn to the beach. Filaments wove up her arms, pulling her in until she had to place her feet into the urn to avoid toppling over. Once there her feet got the same treatment, verdant shoots weaving between her toes, fastening around her ankles, and then gliding up her smooth calves and thighs, the force of their steady tightening burying her feet in the rich, tropical potting soil.
By the time vines were entwining her neck and torso, Megan had given up. Her shouts and grunts of effort and frustration were now a mix of whimpering and morbid fascination as she watched each tendril spread out and adhere to her sun-kissed skin. There were probably worse ways to die, she figured. Like burning alive. Or being shot. Hell, who even said this plant was going to kill her? Maybe Tom just kept a guard plant and would have it unhand her when he returned tomorrow night. Fat chance, she thought as she shook her head at the idea. Guard plant – as if! At least the warning meant Tom in some way knew about this odd feature of his plant. Monstera had now covered virtually all of Megan in its vines, binding her arms down in front of her and the tension keeping her standing upright as it began assimilating its new prey.
The plant had begun to do something new, and Megan could feel it. Little icy pinpricks, starting at her feet and working their way up in rhythmic waves bristled against her skin. She craned her neck, looking down at the cobwebs of vines but not seeing any indication of what was going on – they appeared to be resting peacefully on her. The first few waves hurt a little, but after the initial prickles the cooling sensation felt wonderful on her skin.
No. No, I shouldn't be enjoying this, I should be getting out, Megan corrected herself. She wondered momentarily if she could just knock the plant over and escape, but a few fleeting tries went nowhere, the urn barely budging. Whatever, she figured. If this plant is gonna eat me, at least it's giving me what feels like an upscale spa treatment while doing so.
The little pinpricks were beginning to feel hotter – and deeper. Were they? No – Megan could swear they felt like they were in her muscles, giving her the most thorough deep tissue massage she'd ever received. No pair of hands could match this – it'd take 20 pairs alone to equal the dining room ornament's coverage on Megan's body. She couldn't help herself as her shoulders relaxed, her core loosened, and the tightness in her glutes and calves released. Megan let out a deep breath, unaware of the potent dose of muscle relaxants the Monstera was pumping directly into her bloodstream – plus a cocktail of mutation enzymes. Even if she were, there wasn't much she could do.
Just as she was beginning to look back up and close her eyes, Megan spied something that made her do a double-take. Right there, right on her thigh, a little green splotch had begun to slowly bloom. She blinked, but it remained there. A few dazzled moments later, another began to spread out over her midsection, a rough circle that seemed to spread like moss beneath her skin, turning it from a healthy bronze to a shiny emerald texture. She involuntarily squirmed as the restraints held her in place, more patches blooming on her tits, her ass, her shoulders, arms, hands, neck, and even face if she could see it. Nowhere was safe as the Monstera remade Megan in its image, giving her a healthy, glossy, viridescent skin that, if touched, would give one the impression of ripe fruit.
Megan was stunned into silence as she drank in her changes. It was only now that she realized her legs couldn't move. She could move her hips a little, and bend at the knee, but her legs were welded together where they had once touched, save her thigh gap. They still presented as two distinct pillars supporting her, but in appearance only. Her feet, too, were gone. She couldn't feel them anymore – when she wiggled her toes, everything felt stiff and rigid, the closest sensation she could call to mind being when she used to bury her feet in mud as a kid. She carefully bent at her waist and knees to investigate further. Sure enough, as she probed beneath the soil, her feet had morphed into countless intertwining brown roots – or perhaps merged with the Monstera's roots, it was impossible to tell. It was all the same, Megan able to feel the contours of her urn as she got used to the sensation of her new root system.
Pricks of pain bubbled up on Megan's scalp, her hands immediately seeking the source of the sudden pain. The skin of her scalp felt like it was melting, layers peeling away alarmingly quickly. Pulling her hands away made her stomach drop a little: both gripped chunks of her chestnut hair, shockingly untainted given the rest of her body. Well, maybe being bald isn't the worst thing given... this, she thought as she glanced down at her verdant coloration. Megan had to immediately eat her words. She wasn't going bald at all; she felt a familiar weight returning that had been lifted moments ago, growing out from her head and rolling down her shoulders. Whatever it was, it wasn't hair - it didn't feel soft or fuzzy but rather cool and springy. Megan was a little afraid to see what had transpired but forced a hand to her head anyway. Holding it out so she could see, a frond of Monstera Deliciosa loomed over her face, hand-like leaves letting light trickle between their fenestrations. The rest of her hair was the same, long vines studded with leaves that grew right out from her head. No more shampoo, I guess, Megan thought. The fact that, of all things, that was what her stressed-out mind came up with when confronted with what was before her made her laugh, if only at the absurdity of her situation.
To Megan's surprise, the nearly exhausted plant had one last change in store for her. She began feeling a pulsing in the core of her body, just below the ribcage. It was subtle at first but as it grew and began to encompass more and more of her body in waves, each one stronger than the last. Her leaves quivered in anticipation with each passing flux before she began to notice what was taking shape. A tightness developed in her breasts and hips, and with each pulse her body felt like it was about to burst. In minutes the erogenous zones were so tight as to render them immobile, feeling uncomfortable pressure under her jade skin.
All at once, just when it began to border on genuine pain, the pulses stopped – and the release began. Megan felt the pressure ease as her curves began to swell. They were slow at first but gathered steam at an alarming rate. Her tits pushed out well beyond what her micro bikini could handle, the straps digging into her new bosom before it snapped the strings and sent it to the floor in tatters. Her hips followed suit, her expanding ass and thighs first swallowing the thong she had on before tearing it at the seams and spitting it onto the floor.
As Megan was about to reach out and touch her swollen chest, she felt a sensation that made her repeat the motion. There it was - her hand had grazed a leaf, and not one from her head. She had felt it. As she did so again and again, she felt it again and again. She tried with other leaves to her right and back, and it was all the same. Every time she touched them, she felt not only the frond on her hand but her hand on the frond as well. It made sense, in the same way that none of this made sense. When she examined the roots, there wasn't a distinction between what had been her feet, now her roots, and the original plant's roots. They were now the same, intertwined at the physical and, she could only imagine, genetic level.
Thankfully it was over. All she could see before her were her new massive boobs, obscuring the rest of her body. They must have grown at least four or five cup sizes, topped off by puffy dark green nipples that yearned for attention. Craning her neck she could see what had been done to her ass. It appeared to be modeled on beach balls, each one a globe in its own right and connected to a thick, plush thigh. Nestled between these pillowy new assets lay a fat camel toe, Megan's clit turned a matching shade to her nipples and displayed prominently, swollen so large it eclipsed her hood.
Megan's hand felt herself up, unable to believe what had happened in such a short time. To top it off, Tom was returning tomorrow – and what was he going to think when he found her like this? Megan smirked as the naughty part of her mind made a few suggestions as to what he might think – and do – but only time would tell how he'd react to Megan becoming one with his houseplants.
---
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it - feedback is always appreciated.
Hello Megan,
Thank you so much for taking care of my plants while I'm away! It's pretty easy - I've even labeled them so you know which is which.
Monstera Deliciosa: This is the big one in the corner of the dining room. It needs a thorough watering every 1-2 weeks or when the first few inches of soil are dry. IMPORTANT: Don't water after 9 PM.
Prayer Plant: This one lives in the living room, between the armchair and the window. Same as above, but this one tends to be a little more thirsty, so water about every week. It also likes plant food every month added to its pot. Please drain the catch at the bottom of the pot every time you water it.
Krimson Queen: The little one in my office. Please water it thoroughly if the soil is dry – it doesn't like overwatering as it can be susceptible to root rot. For me, this is usually about every week.
Philodendron Brasil: On the window ledge in the kitchen. Same as the Krimson Queen, water about every week until water runs down into the saucer and remove the excess.
As always, if you have any questions at all or if any of the plants aren't doing well, don't hesitate to reach out. See you when I get back!
Thanks!
Tom
---
Summer had the city of San Angeles in a sweltering late-July chokehold. As the sun came up the metropolis was already uncomfortably hot and became increasingly so as it was baked to hazy perfection. Excessive heat advisories were so run-of-the-mill it was safer to assume they were perpetually in effect than not. By the time the afternoon rolled around the only places where one could find any human activity were air-conditioned buildings, swimming pools, or the overcrowded beaches.
Megan Arvel was no exception to this rule, arriving on the palm-dotted strip of sand where at least the steady breeze from the sea provided a modicum of relief. The letter from Tom was the farthest thing from her mind as she slid off her cover-up to reveal her latest article of beachwear: a silver micro bikini. The fabric, obscenely priced considering it was best measured in square centimeters, left nothing save her truly private areas to the imagination. Two tiny triangles clung to her nipples, the matching metallic thong threatening a scandal if she spread her legs too wide. Fuck, I'm such a slut, Megan "chided" herself. The truth was that Megan did this every day on her summer break and had never been happier.
As a child she'd been sheltered, growing up in a small town on the other side of the Amarillo mountains. After coming to Anchor University and getting to be on her own she discovered how much sexual attention from anyone excited her. Megan began dressing in less and less modest clothing and overhauling her wardrobe to show as much skin as she could without catching too many nasty looks from the faculty. During the summer there was no shortage of eager viewers with all the young men – and women – around to stare at her curves on the beach.
She started wading into the crowd to find a good spot, giddy with excitement as people turned to watch her. Some showed disgust, others concern, others interest, others arousal, and still others were too far away to tell. Most of them she couldn't notice – there were too many eyes on her to keep track of. All of them excited Megan. The more excited she got, the more her nipples made the bikini top irrelevant and the more stares her pert B-cups got.
A few more minutes spent negotiating the thin strip of sand that wove between towels led her to a good spot – or a tolerable one, at least. Before her was a gap of sand large enough to lay her towel and not rub elbows with her neighbors. She threw her towel to the wind, slowly bringing it to the scorching sand and spending plenty of time bent double as she adjusted the corners. Megan then produced a bottle of suntan oil from her bag. She began at her shoulders and thoroughly worked her way down her sun-kissed body. As she wrapped up the tops of her feet, she cast a glance around her neighbors. Who's my prey today, she thought, smirking as she surveyed her immediate company. A handful of young, single men were eyeing her rather obviously, but those were easy pickings. A few rows down in front of her, however, she caught a hasty glance away from a man sitting next to a woman.
Megan sauntered over to the couple, doing her best to act demure despite her almost comically lewd beachwear. "Excuse me, sorry to bother you all, but would you mind getting my back?" Megan watched as the one-piece-clad lady shot daggers at the strapping young man, caught in the middle as he sheepishly looked back and forth from Megan to her. Red tint crept onto his cheeks as the awkward silence was punctuated by seagulls wheeling overhead. Wife, Megan noted as she spied the rings the two of them were wearing. Jackpot.
"Ah, ha, ah..." his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Sure, yeah, I - I can get your back." he caved, standing up from his beach chair. Megan lived for the crestfallen look on his wife's face, having to do her best not to break out into a fiendish smile.
"Devon," The wife's tone spoke volumes as she tried to hide her surprise and disappointment that he'd accepted the harlot's offer.
"It'll just be a minute, honey."
Megan could feel her stare at their backs as they made their way to her spot. She laid facedown back at her spot, feeling the heat on her chest as it radiated through the towel. Devon's hands began to rub oil onto her back, traveling down her neck to her shoulder blades, working around her straps as he hastily tried to finish up the small of her back and get back without only a mild tongue-lashing.
"Lower, please." Megan cooed. She felt him hesitate, weigh his options, and finally oblige, hands inching down to where her lithe hips began to blossom out. She could feel her fingers tugging at that place in his heart where lust lives, feel his cheeks reddening, his pulse quicken, a bulge begin taking shape in his swim trunks. Again he paused, and again Megan pushed her luck.
"Lower." Oh my GOD, I'm such a little homewrecker, she thought. Megan certainly wasn't immune to the feeling building in her loins either as Devon's hands began to graze the curves of her ass. Her nipples dug into the towel as her thong did its best to absorb the growing excitement between her legs.
"Lower." Too far – the pause was longer this time, and Megan knew he'd had enough even before he spoke.
"I'm – look, I'm sorry, but I don't really think I should. You should be able to take it from here." Megan rolled onto her side to find Devon exactly as she'd pictured: cheeks on fire, conflicted grimace, and a tent between his legs. Megan made a show of noticing that last point, fixing Devon with a knowing look.
"Suit yourself. I'll be here if you wanna enjoy the show." Devon rose as Megan winked, dosing her hands to finish what he couldn't. She took great pleasure in watching him awkwardly waddle back, trying to tuck his boner into the waistband of his trunks. Her hands worked over her ass cheeks as she took a sinful delight in hearing his partner decry what he'd done. Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight.
A buzz in Megan's beach bag pulled her from her thoughts. She adjusted her sunglasses and took a closer look at her phone, struggling to see through the glare as she angled her hand to get at the screen, now displaying a text from Tom.
Hey Megan! I haven't heard from you - how are the plants doing?
Shit. No sugar coating it. Megan had forgotten about that itsy-bitsy favor Tom had asked before he left for his 6-week trip to Spain. Not that Tom had to know about it, and not that he would know about it, Megan corrected herself.
Hey Tom! No worries, they're doing great.
Megan figured her little white lie would just go unnoticed. It was just a month, wasn't it? Surely the plants were fine, and she could stop in tonight before Tom returned to make it look like she'd been taking care of the plants since he'd left. She'd finish up here and then take care of his plants, simple as that.
The hours melted away as Megan drank in the low whistles and blatant stares that sweltering afternoon. It wasn't until the sun met the horizon that she slipped her cover-up back on and headed for home. Streetlights flickered to life, illuminating overly manicured beachside hotels with hedges and grass so lush it either wasn't real or the sole cause of the city's water crisis. Block after block of luxury property passed as it transitioned to generic cityscape, the sidewalks increasingly cracked after years of thermal cycling and neglect. Megan made a right on Orville Street, heading back to the familiar landscape or discount student apartments that surrounded Anchor University. Once inside she breathed a sigh of deep relaxation, kicking off her flip-flops and adding a fine dusting of sand to the grains already deposited from her daily sojourns to the seaside.
Megan might have called her apartment lived-in, but to the average person, it was just messy. Old textbooks and notes obscured much of the table save the little square where she ate her meals. Clothes of every sort lay scattered as if by the wind, the covers of her bed thrown off and twisted into a knot. To Megan, it wasn't truly messy since she knew where everything was. Laptop? Under the coffee table, beneath the pile of magazines. Spare batteries? Under her bed, somewhere in the box that had that half-open pack of fishnets on it. Easy - she had her system, and if someone thought it was still a dump that was their problem, not hers. Besides, she was still sweating even as she pulled a frozen dinner out of the freezer and stabbed the plastic cover. The last thing she wanted to do with her summer vacation was spend it cleaning her dingy apartment. The ancient window unit struggled mightily to keep the space cool but proved far too weak for summer temperatures.
As the equally Mesozoic microwave hummed life into her lo mein, Megan turned to the only plant she kept in her apartment. It had been given to her by Tom when they had both been freshmen: a little succulent, hardly the size of a tennis ball, and consisting entirely of short, squat green leaves. He had told her its name when he first gave her it, but Megan just called him Sunny. It was the lone plant she hadn't killed in her apartment, largely because it could last months without water. While the others had all become crinkly and brown, Sunny seemed fine with Megan's once-in-a-blue-moon caretaking style. Speaking of which, she noted as she felt the dusty soil in Sunny's cup, giving him a little from the sink as the microwave chirped. It was a miracle that Tom trusted Megan to care for his plants, but then again, he didn't have much choice - most of the residents had gone afield for the summer.
Megan made short work of the MSG-laden dinner, snagged Tom's letter - tucked between the toaster oven and the wall, right where she'd left it - and set off to do damage control. It was scarcely a five minute given they lived in the same complex, deserted halls and sidewalks her only company as she crossed the overgrown central courtyard. Insects crooned all around her as they celebrated the coming of the marginally cooler night air.
Tom's apartment was tidy, far tidier than Megan's. The kitchen table was clear save for the watering can, plant food, and a duplicate of the letter. The vacuum had made its rounds before he left, and the place smelled like citrus-scented cleaner. The only items that looked out of place were the plants. The one in the living room looked like it was dying for water, leaves fringed with a worrying amount of brown and yellow. A panicked search of the other locations turned up similar results.
Pulling out her phone Megan contemplated texting Tom and got halfway through drafting an urgent message before realizing it was the crack of dawn in Europe. Besides, she wanted to seem competent. He'd paid her well to do this and, green thumb or not, she wasn't about to let him down.
A bit of Googling assuaged her fears. The plants, although they all looked a little withered after nearly a month of negligence, would be fine if she just added water in the amounts Tom had put in the letter. She skimmed the letter: dining room, living room, office, kitchen. All were past their due date, so Megan just hefted the watering pail over to the sink and got to it. She set to work, starting with the smaller ones and working her way up to the big one in the dining room. Mentally Megan knew that plants didn't have feelings, but she could swear they perked up the minute she added water and breathed a sigh of relief.
The giant plant in the dining room turned out to be a little difficult to water, as it stood a head taller than she did and was planted in a vessel that bore more resemblance to an urn than a flowerpot. Megan had to delve into the foliage to get close enough to locate the bedding. Emptied the last of the contents into the loamy bedding, Megan was taken aback when a tendril reached out and fastened itself around her wrist. It couldn't have been much thicker than a rubber band but felt like a steel cable, the force of its sudden pull causing the watering can to clatter to the floor. Megan pulled on the tendril in a bid to escape the embrace, only managing to rock the urn slightly and rustle the leaves.
It was then that she vaguely remembered something about not watering one of the plants after 9 PM. So much good that's gonna do me now, she fumed, planting a foot against the urn and pulling until she felt like her shoulder was about to dislocate. The plant, a rather special variant of Monstera Deliciosa known as domina prehenderat, made no haste in catching its prey. Another emerald tendril struck a course for Megan's other wrist as she dove into her pockets for keys to try and slice her way free.
Taking advantage of the tropical plant's lackadaisical nature, Megan wasted no time in taking the makeshift blade to the shoot anchoring her right hand to Tom's flora. While she did manage to get through the outer hide and make some progress in sawing through to the white inner fibers, the Monstera took notice. The second vine hastened its approach as it arrested Megan's left wrist. The end seemed to split into hundreds of hairsbreadth appendages, worming between her fingers and forcing her fingers open, the keys joining the watering pail on the floor.
"What the fuck?" Megan snarled under her breath, half in terror and half in frustration. She'd never seen a plant do anything like this before, and the sight of three more ropey fasteners erupting from the dirt only made Tom's warning that much clearer. She'd never heard of a carnivorous plant that ate humans, but perhaps she was the first such victim.
The next ten minutes made Megan feel as though she was a mouse in a glue trap. She continued resisting, planting her feet and pulling, yanking, even biting the tendrils to try to get free. The monstrous plant plodded on at a speed that seemed almost insultingly unbothered by Megan's protests and resistance. Tendrils grew and spread out all over her body, snaking beneath the cover-up and the micro bikini she'd worn to the beach. Filaments wove up her arms, pulling her in until she had to place her feet into the urn to avoid toppling over. Once there her feet got the same treatment, verdant shoots weaving between her toes, fastening around her ankles, and then gliding up her smooth calves and thighs, the force of their steady tightening burying her feet in the rich, tropical potting soil.
By the time vines were entwining her neck and torso, Megan had given up. Her shouts and grunts of effort and frustration were now a mix of whimpering and morbid fascination as she watched each tendril spread out and adhere to her sun-kissed skin. There were probably worse ways to die, she figured. Like burning alive. Or being shot. Hell, who even said this plant was going to kill her? Maybe Tom just kept a guard plant and would have it unhand her when he returned tomorrow night. Fat chance, she thought as she shook her head at the idea. Guard plant – as if! At least the warning meant Tom in some way knew about this odd feature of his plant. Monstera had now covered virtually all of Megan in its vines, binding her arms down in front of her and the tension keeping her standing upright as it began assimilating its new prey.
The plant had begun to do something new, and Megan could feel it. Little icy pinpricks, starting at her feet and working their way up in rhythmic waves bristled against her skin. She craned her neck, looking down at the cobwebs of vines but not seeing any indication of what was going on – they appeared to be resting peacefully on her. The first few waves hurt a little, but after the initial prickles the cooling sensation felt wonderful on her skin.
No. No, I shouldn't be enjoying this, I should be getting out, Megan corrected herself. She wondered momentarily if she could just knock the plant over and escape, but a few fleeting tries went nowhere, the urn barely budging. Whatever, she figured. If this plant is gonna eat me, at least it's giving me what feels like an upscale spa treatment while doing so.
The little pinpricks were beginning to feel hotter – and deeper. Were they? No – Megan could swear they felt like they were in her muscles, giving her the most thorough deep tissue massage she'd ever received. No pair of hands could match this – it'd take 20 pairs alone to equal the dining room ornament's coverage on Megan's body. She couldn't help herself as her shoulders relaxed, her core loosened, and the tightness in her glutes and calves released. Megan let out a deep breath, unaware of the potent dose of muscle relaxants the Monstera was pumping directly into her bloodstream – plus a cocktail of mutation enzymes. Even if she were, there wasn't much she could do.
Just as she was beginning to look back up and close her eyes, Megan spied something that made her do a double-take. Right there, right on her thigh, a little green splotch had begun to slowly bloom. She blinked, but it remained there. A few dazzled moments later, another began to spread out over her midsection, a rough circle that seemed to spread like moss beneath her skin, turning it from a healthy bronze to a shiny emerald texture. She involuntarily squirmed as the restraints held her in place, more patches blooming on her tits, her ass, her shoulders, arms, hands, neck, and even face if she could see it. Nowhere was safe as the Monstera remade Megan in its image, giving her a healthy, glossy, viridescent skin that, if touched, would give one the impression of ripe fruit.
Megan was stunned into silence as she drank in her changes. It was only now that she realized her legs couldn't move. She could move her hips a little, and bend at the knee, but her legs were welded together where they had once touched, save her thigh gap. They still presented as two distinct pillars supporting her, but in appearance only. Her feet, too, were gone. She couldn't feel them anymore – when she wiggled her toes, everything felt stiff and rigid, the closest sensation she could call to mind being when she used to bury her feet in mud as a kid. She carefully bent at her waist and knees to investigate further. Sure enough, as she probed beneath the soil, her feet had morphed into countless intertwining brown roots – or perhaps merged with the Monstera's roots, it was impossible to tell. It was all the same, Megan able to feel the contours of her urn as she got used to the sensation of her new root system.
Pricks of pain bubbled up on Megan's scalp, her hands immediately seeking the source of the sudden pain. The skin of her scalp felt like it was melting, layers peeling away alarmingly quickly. Pulling her hands away made her stomach drop a little: both gripped chunks of her chestnut hair, shockingly untainted given the rest of her body. Well, maybe being bald isn't the worst thing given... this, she thought as she glanced down at her verdant coloration. Megan had to immediately eat her words. She wasn't going bald at all; she felt a familiar weight returning that had been lifted moments ago, growing out from her head and rolling down her shoulders. Whatever it was, it wasn't hair - it didn't feel soft or fuzzy but rather cool and springy. Megan was a little afraid to see what had transpired but forced a hand to her head anyway. Holding it out so she could see, a frond of Monstera Deliciosa loomed over her face, hand-like leaves letting light trickle between their fenestrations. The rest of her hair was the same, long vines studded with leaves that grew right out from her head. No more shampoo, I guess, Megan thought. The fact that, of all things, that was what her stressed-out mind came up with when confronted with what was before her made her laugh, if only at the absurdity of her situation.
To Megan's surprise, the nearly exhausted plant had one last change in store for her. She began feeling a pulsing in the core of her body, just below the ribcage. It was subtle at first but as it grew and began to encompass more and more of her body in waves, each one stronger than the last. Her leaves quivered in anticipation with each passing flux before she began to notice what was taking shape. A tightness developed in her breasts and hips, and with each pulse her body felt like it was about to burst. In minutes the erogenous zones were so tight as to render them immobile, feeling uncomfortable pressure under her jade skin.
All at once, just when it began to border on genuine pain, the pulses stopped – and the release began. Megan felt the pressure ease as her curves began to swell. They were slow at first but gathered steam at an alarming rate. Her tits pushed out well beyond what her micro bikini could handle, the straps digging into her new bosom before it snapped the strings and sent it to the floor in tatters. Her hips followed suit, her expanding ass and thighs first swallowing the thong she had on before tearing it at the seams and spitting it onto the floor.
As Megan was about to reach out and touch her swollen chest, she felt a sensation that made her repeat the motion. There it was - her hand had grazed a leaf, and not one from her head. She had felt it. As she did so again and again, she felt it again and again. She tried with other leaves to her right and back, and it was all the same. Every time she touched them, she felt not only the frond on her hand but her hand on the frond as well. It made sense, in the same way that none of this made sense. When she examined the roots, there wasn't a distinction between what had been her feet, now her roots, and the original plant's roots. They were now the same, intertwined at the physical and, she could only imagine, genetic level.
Thankfully it was over. All she could see before her were her new massive boobs, obscuring the rest of her body. They must have grown at least four or five cup sizes, topped off by puffy dark green nipples that yearned for attention. Craning her neck she could see what had been done to her ass. It appeared to be modeled on beach balls, each one a globe in its own right and connected to a thick, plush thigh. Nestled between these pillowy new assets lay a fat camel toe, Megan's clit turned a matching shade to her nipples and displayed prominently, swollen so large it eclipsed her hood.
Megan's hand felt herself up, unable to believe what had happened in such a short time. To top it off, Tom was returning tomorrow – and what was he going to think when he found her like this? Megan smirked as the naughty part of her mind made a few suggestions as to what he might think – and do – but only time would tell how he'd react to Megan becoming one with his houseplants.
---
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it - feedback is always appreciated.
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I try not to think of myself as the bad guy. Yes, I found myself involved in the development of mind-control technology, but I did my best to protect the world from the worst of it. After that, things just kind of happened on their own.At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of three fellow human beings and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistants and sex slaves, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
* * *
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to plug a single thought out of one hand and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
* * *
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, I was left with only one option.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
* * *
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of three fellow human beings and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistants and sex slaves, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
* * *
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to plug a single thought out of one hand and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
* * *
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, I was left with only one option.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
* * *
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
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Here's a RWBY incest fanfiction that I drawed up. Now, before entering, I must warn you of the content within: there will be violence. There will be blood. There will be murder. There will be incestuous relations. There will be heartbreak (probably). And there will be Sprite. If ANY of that is too uncomfortable for you, please look elsewhere. Everyone else, happy reading.Also, this is serving as a prototype for mixing story and porn. Both are great on their own, but together, they're unmatched. So I wanna try my hand with it. So hopefully, ya like it....alright, dassitdassall.
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Chapter by
vipy26 · 18 Nov 2024 -
Sean and Ann are going to their friend's house for one last hot summer afternoon.
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***
Prologue
One day, Humanity shared a common dream. Every person on Earth, as they slept, dreamt the same vision. In it, they could see themselves and others pulled toward someone of the other sex. As their two bodies collided, they were becoming one single being. One body of two minds. As people woke up, they could feel it: a deep knowledge that it wasn’t only a dream, but some kind of prophecy.
The pragmatics thought of it as Mother Nature fighting against human overpopulation. The poets preferred to think it was a restitution to our primal form where men and women were only the two halves of the same entities.
Sure, there were a few deniers, like there’s always some for Climate Change, but most people knew this day would soon come, the day of an event they soon started to call The Great Merge.
***
Sean
My name, at that time in that place, was Sean. In a few days, I was officially starting college there in my hometown, while my girlfriend Ann was moving away for her studies. I wasn’t particularly worried about it: our relationship had started as early as middle school and was so strong I knew it could even survive years and years of distance. But still, we wouldn’t be able to spend each day together like we did until now, so I wasn’t looking forward to it. To add to the injury, Ann was going to pursue a brilliant career in the medical field thanks to her perfect grades while my medium scores and not-so-wealthy family confined me to a local community college. I couldn’t say I wasn’t jealous.
“Don’t worry, honey. It’s just a matter of time anyway. We’ll be one in no time, so we’ll enjoy my new university together soon enough!”
That’s what Ann was always telling me when I shared my mixed feelings towards our future. We were often seen as the perfect couple. I believed in her love for me as much as mine for her. So when the Dream occurred, it was only natural for us to conclude we would fuse with one another. Even if the idea of losing their identity was scary for everyone, Ann and I felt like it was the most romantic thing that could happen to us. There was excitement mixed in the fear. But what if the Great Merge happened while she was away? Would it still work? Would it make her merge with a random dude from her school? Nobody knew for sure, but I didn’t want to leave it to chance, that’s why I was making sure to be with her as much as I could since the Dream.
Enjoying our last moments of summer, we were spending the afternoon at my friend Jason’s place. Jason's family was quite wealthy and owned a big house with a pool, so it was often him inviting us over and during summer vacation, we almost spent more time there than in our own houses. I stared dreamily at Ann as she got out of the bathroom in her newly brought red bikini. “Wow…” I was the luckiest man on earth. She was wearing her wavy brown hair in a ponytail and her usual fair skin had taken a golden hue from all our time here. An angel. Not only was she the smartest girl I knew with her already mentioned unparalleled academic prowess, she was the most beautiful in the whole world. Sure, I don’t claim I was the most objective, but still. Those green eyes, that cute little nose, and that damn smile… An embarrassed smile that, at that moment, was asking me why I was still looking at her like the first day we met.
“I swear next time I’m going in a diving suit.” she joked.
“Pretty sure you’d still rock it anyway.” I replied.
I loved how humble she managed to stay despite her perfect hourglass figure. She always had this shyness when it came to our desires for one another. I knew she had a kinky side that she was always too embarrassed to show me, like those erotic comics she hid in her room, or the way she blushed when watching a sex scene in a movie. Her modesty was probably the only thing I could see as a default about her personality. She could be a bit passive during our intimacy, but really it was nit-picking. Because yes, having the brain and the looks wasn’t enough for her, she also had to be the most kind-hearted person, making her popular not only with the teachers but every student in our old school.
“Come on, love birds. there’s only a few hours of sun left already!” called out Jason.
He was a great friend. Very sporty, outgoing, and full of confidence. I wasn't especially lacking in that department myself –how could I with Ann at my side– but I've always been a lot more reserved. He had sandy blond hair and a radiant smile that felt very inviting, making him the target of lots of girls' attention.
"Carrie's not here?" I asked him.
"Nah, we split yesterday," he answered casually.
Nothing to be surprised about, it was bound to happen. Jason's adventures never lasted long, as he could be very frivolous. He liked girls but not much commitment, and they often felt insecure in their relationship with him because of his popularity. He never cheated on them, but never reassured them much either. That was the same story with his previous girlfriend.
"Aww, too bad. I really liked Carrie, she was sweet," said Ann who was holding my hand as we walked to the pool area.
A big sliding door was opening directly on the bluest pool, taking much of the space. On our right was a neatly mown lawn and on our left was a stone wall matching the pool’s tiles. At the far end was a big modern pergola shading the lounge chairs under it. There, a familiar silhouette greeted us: “Hey, guys!”
The squeaky voice belonged to Jason's little sister Sheril. The little goblin was always clinging to us like a tick. I cringed at the harsh thought. She wasn't THAT bad. Sheril was a sophomore in our old high school. My guess was that, like most girls from her grade, she saw Ann as a role model or something, and because of that, she spent as much time as she could with us. She was nice, but often tried to monopolize our attention, talking loudly and frequently interrupting us. At the beginning of the vacation, Jason had tried to get rid of her multiple times but quickly forfeited as he often did with her relentless stubbornness. Ann didn't seem to mind her as much as I did as she always seemed impossible to annoy. For that reason, I had to also give up, just trying to ignore her as much as I could.
"How are you today? Do you want to play a game of tag or something? Hey, Ann! Have you seen my new ribbons? I bought them yesterday with Mom. She says they match with my eyes, what do you think?" She started rumbling as she jumped out of the chair and skipped around like a pestering fly.
Despite soon starting her last year of high school, Sheril was quite short for her age, not very developed, and wore her blonde hair in characteristic long and curly pigtails. Because of that, she could almost fool people into thinking she was still a child. Her current swimsuit, a white one-piece with pink flowers, was not helping her case. Despite that, she was definitely cute in her own way. She had big and very light blue eyes. Her button nose and rosy cheeks were covered in freckles and her overall facial features were free of imperfections. She had great potential if she started acting and dressing like her age, but for now, it was difficult to see more in her than a pesky kid.
I gave Ann a knowing smile and let her tank Sheril's attention for the moment. She didn't seem to mind and patiently responded to her endless chatting. I dived into the water with Jason for a few laps.
"So... What's your plan for the Great Merge now?" I asked Jason as we chilled on the other side of the pool. It was an obvious question to ask after his breakup with Carrie.
"Dunno, man. Guess I have to find a new girl soon, heh?" He answered, clearly not too worried.
"I mean, I would if I were you. You don't want to merge with your sister, I presume." I smirked.
He splashed water on my face. "Ugh! Please, no. But we have time, right? I mean everyone says it will happen on New Year's Eve.”
It was a popular rumor. There was no way to know for sure, but since the dream happened a few months prior, people were starting to relax to the idea it wouldn't happen right away.
"Maybe, yeah. But you can't be too cautious about that. Plus it's not like you lack the choice of partner. Half the girls in school want to fuck you, man."
He chuckled. "You really think I'm some kind of sex god or something? If you were not already in your perfect little couple, I'd think you have a crush on me, bro."
It was my turn to splash water at him.
"No but seriously, it must be so cool to have no doubts. You're going to spend your life stuck with your soulmate... You're one lucky dude, man." He said with more seriousness than usual.
"Yeah, I guess I am..." I answered, looking at my reflection in the pool. I couldn't mutter the strength to admit I also had doubts. Sure, being the other half of your half, it seemed like destiny, I couldn't deny that. And even if most of my mind was happy with this perspective, another, deeper part was sad. Who would we be in love with once we'd be one single being?
My thoughts were cut short by the sound of Sheril jumping in the pool. She quickly joined us, with Ann more gracefully following behind her.
"Let's play Chicken Fight!" yelled Sheril, a bit too enthusiastically.
"Again?" complained Jason. I shared the feeling: we played Chicken Fight every time we went to their pool. Well, at least it was a good excuse to caress Ann's smooth legs...
"Yes, but let's switch this time! I want to go on Sean's back!" said his sister in her bratty tone.
It took me by surprise. "Huh? Why?"
"Being on Jason is boring. He's, like, the worst horse. I just want to try out, pleaaaase!" she begged.
I wasn't keen on the idea at all, for obvious reasons. I was ready to rebuke the idea when Ann intervened: "Come on, guys. Try to be good sports, it's only for a few rounds."
Of course. Ann, the voice of reason. How could I say no to those eyes? I sighed and accepted. Seeing Jason take Ann on his back raised in me a pinch of jealousy, but I knew it was unfounded since I had complete trust in both of them. I crouched in the shallow water to let Sheril put her scrawny legs around my shoulders. Lifting her was the easiest thing in the world, and that was when I realized how underbalanced our two teams were: generally, Jason's bulk made up for Sheril's weak arms, which could then compete with our more standard duo. Me and Sheril had no chance.
Jason seemed to have done the same math. He grinned at me with his dashing smile, and charged.
"You okay up there?" I asked Sheril when we rose back from the depth, disoriented.
"Uh-huh. Let's try again." She said, sounding less convincing than she probably wanted.
We brawled for a bit, trying to make the most of our only asset: swiftness. Sheril's light weight allowed me to move around as we spared and I could see Jason starting to tire faster than me. Sheril was laughing loudly, apparently enjoying being tossed in multiple directions. I had to admit that I was starting to have fun too as I saw a thin chance of a possible win.
That's when I saw it. I stopped in my tracks, trying to discern what I was witnessing.
Jason rushed to us when he saw me stop, and I had to stop him loudly: "WAIT!" I screamed. It seemed to work as attended. "W-what's going on with your hands?"
Jason's hands were holding firmly on Ann's thighs, but I couldn't seem to find any gaps between their skins. It looked like they were... fused. My heart sank at this thought. No, no, no, no.
Jason, noticing he couldn't move his hands off Ann, was slowly joining me in the realization. He jerked them violently. Instinctively, I tried to do the same, only to understand I was in the same predicament. My head was boiling with fear. Not now, not now, not now…
The girls took a few more seconds to notice, both screaming in horror. I joined sight with Ann. In the middle of her shock, I could see resignation and sadness starting to rise while her eyes were filling with tears. On my back, Sheril was thrusting and swinging like a mad girl, trying desperately to free herself from my hands that were slowly but surely disappearing into her legs. I tried to lift my head to her face, but it was now firmly glued to her crotch, locking my neck in place.
My eyes locked on Jason in front of me, whose hands had already entirely entered Ann. His head had started entering her abdomen. He looked at me with desperation. He said something to me. I couldn't hear anything behind the screams coming from the top, but I managed to read his lips: "I'm so sorry." After that, he walked towards the edge of the pool as his head completely disappeared inside Ann.
I stayed paralyzed for a few more seconds before my survival instinct kicked in. I tried walking too, but Sheril's hysterical tantrum made it impossible as we stumbled into the water more and more. My vision finally blackened. I fought a little more before I was unable to breathe, either because of water or Sheril's body, I couldn't say. My consciousness quickly-
***
Sheril
My name, at that moment in that place, was Sheril. I lived in the Sunny Hills, a calm suburb above the city, with my parents and my big brother Jason. In a few days, I was starting my last year of high school. It was cool in a way: seniors are the ones all the freshmen are looking up to, but who was I kidding? Nobody was looking up to me, figuratively and literally.
I was the scrawniest girl possible. Only Holly was worse in that category, but she had an illness or something, so she didn't count. I had no breasts to speak of, the flattest ass imaginable. Sure I wasn't ugly, but a cute face doesn't make up for the absence of a body.
My friend Sasha always told me I should wear sexier clothes, but she didn't know what she was talking about. She had tits for days, a bit too much even. What does revealing clothes do when you have nothing to reveal, really? Nothing, you just look stupid. I had to play with the cards in my hand, and my only card was cuteness. So I wore cutesy clothes. Not like my mom would have accepted anything more. If I listened to her, I'd go to school in a space suit. I preferred to be called a child than a nun, personally. At least I had a few guys looking at me. Not the right one, though.
Sean had been my big crush since I entered high school. Tall, half-Asian, jet-black hair hiding his deep black eyes... He was just my dream type, like right from a K-pop band. And it wasn't just his looks. He had that aura of mystery. That low and soothing voice. That shy side-smile that let you wonder what he was thinking about... and he was so romantic. The way he cared for his girlfriend was obvious and intense. Because, yes, Sean had a girlfriend. Not only did he have a girl, he had THE girl. Ann was, like, probably in the top 3 most popular girls in the whole school last year. She was so smart and beautiful, it was just unfair. And the worst part is that I couldn't hate the bitch for how nice she was. I was so jealous of her, it hurt. I couldn't help but compare myself all the time.
I was waiting on the lounging chairs, covered in solar cream. Last summer, I had ended up red as a beet, so I didn't want to risk it this time. I lifted a brace from my swimsuit and took a pick: almost no tan lines. I was just not made for summer. Sasha had invited me to join her at the mall, but I had told her I couldn't today. Because as usual, Sean was coming to the house.
“Ah, I hear them,” said Jason as he came out of the pool. “They prolly want to enjoy their last pool day in peace, Sheril, so don’t start pestering them like usual, huh?”
I stuck my tongue out. Gosh, Jason was the worst brother. He always treated me like I was 5 and I was so sick of it. That goof probably thought he was some sort of womanizer with how many girlfriends he had over the years. I knew the truth though: they broke up each time they realized how fucking dumb he was. His friendship with Sean was a mystery I never managed to crack, but I wasn’t complaining: at least my stupid brother was useful for one thing.
I rolled my eyes watching Jason walk back into the house. I pity the girl who’s going to merge with him…, I thought.
On the day of the Dream, I had first hoped I would merge with Ann so I could be with him. But I quickly understood it would only work with a guy. I of course imagined merging with him. It would be quite romantic in a way, but I realized it meant also killing all hopes of going out with him. But hearing them talk about it, I knew Sean and Ann wanted to merge together. It wouldn’t be so bad, actually: if they merged, they wouldn't be a couple anymore, it would be my chance! I just needed the right partner. I knew of a guy in school who had a crush on Ann (like half of them really). He wasn't too shabby so I told him about my plan. He seemed to be on board. Now I only needed to get closer to Sean before the merge, so he could see me as the next best thing!
At that moment, the door from the patio opened and Jason came out with his friends beside him. "Okay, Sheril, stay cool this time," I repeated to myself.
I beamed and greeted them as they arrived, showing them the new ribbons. Sadly, Sean didn't seem to care much and quickly went into the pool with Jason. Of course, I should have guessed ribbons were not the appropriate subject of conversation... stupid. Ann seemed a bit more interested though, and we talked a bit about our recent outfits. Ann has a great sense of fashion, sexy while keeping it modest enough. I wanted to master that, but I had hesitated to go too far in that direction. I didn't want people to see me as a tasteless copycat. Plus, it would hint a bit too much that I was trying to get Sean's intention by mimicking his girlfriend's style.
"Hum, Sheril?" she interrupted my train of thought. "How about we join the boys in the pool? I'm drying up with that sun."
"Oh, yeah! Sorry!" I said, hoping I wasn't bothering her. "Oh! We should go for a game of Chicken Fight! Do you think we can mix up the teams this time?"
I've been waiting to team up with Sean for once, but it was difficult breaking those two up. I hoped that, by asking Ann first, it wouldn't sound too desperate.
She took a second to answer. "Sure, why not? If the guys are okay."
After a bit more convincing, the guys accepted as well. Sweet! The idea of climbing on Sean's shoulders was already making my heart flutter. He lifted me with ease as I took the opportunity to caress his thick dark mane. What a treat! I was thankful to be in a pool at the time, as my face reddened like a tomato... I was soon put out of my daydreaming as the others shoved us into the water without warning. Jason was his usual brute, of course.
As I climbed back, Sean asked me if everything was alright. I felt like his personal little princess, it was magical! The second round went better. Sean was moving me around so much that I couldn't help myself laughing. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and yelled. "WAIT!"
I was surprised by the abruptness. "What's going on?" I asked, but Sean didn't react. Instead, he addressed Jason, asking him about his hands. I didn't understand, but I could feel my partner's body tensing underneath me. My brother started shaking around violently, and I finally saw it: his hands were stuck to Ann's legs. Not just stuck: fused, like tin on a circuit board. I screamed in horror and tried to get off Sean. No dice. "WHAT'S GOING ON!? WHAT'S GOING ON!?"
They couldn't answer me, too focused on their own thoughts and feelings. My mind was too alarmed to think straight, but as much as I tried to pull myself off his shoulder, I only felt like I was sinking deeper inside him. I finally understood as I saw my brother's face completely disappear inside Ann. The Merge, it was happening. I was merging with Sean! I didn't want to, I wasn't ready to die. I wasn't ready to become someone else. I cried and cried and pulled harder. In the end, Sean fell into the water. I couldn't break free. We were about to drown and I couldn't break free. My last sensation was his head moving inside my belly. How odd...
***
The Wake
Air pulling inside my lungs woke me in shock and pain. A mouth was on mine. I jerked away and coughed out a bunch of chlorine-filled water, the chemical smell stinking up my nose. My lungs were on fire, and it took me a few minutes of coughing to start breathing somewhat regularly again. Even more painful was my head. My brain felt like a throbbing core and my memories were in shambles. I couldn't think of anything before my wake without it burning my frontal lobe.
I focused on my environment. The sun was beating hard on my skin. The pool, yes. I know this place. I must have drowned. My chest felt compressed by a very tight fabric. A silhouette was shielding the beams from my eyes. I could only discern a vague shape. I should know them... my brother? I called the name that came to my mind: "J-jason? Is that... you?" my voice was weak in my biting throat.
The silhouette didn't respond, and got out of my sight, blinding me with the light. Jason... my brother? He's not, though. I don't have siblings... or do I? I decided to sit up to collect my thoughts. Keeping my eyes low to restore my sight, it was then that I saw my body for the first time. I wasn't sure what I expected to see, but I was certain without a doubt that it wasn't that. Something seemed wrong. I was bigger... or smaller? Definitely bigger in some areas, at least. I was wearing a loose swimming trunk over a constricting flowery one-piece. Both gears felt weird and familiar at the same time. What didn't feel familiar was the breasts on my chest. It was a lot bigger than what I was used to. It made sense since I wasn't used to anything at all... right?
My creamy white skin was sticky with solar protection. A reassuring fact since the sun was beating me for who knows how long. I crawled to the shady part of the patio, under the pergola. My mind was slowly but surely coming back to me. I was in my house. I was spending time with my friend and his sister, my girlfriend and my brother... and his friends. The number didn't seem right. Most of the common knowledge was still here, the hazy part was about my daily life. Too many incoherences.
As I sat back on my strangely ample bosom, on the darker side, I could see more clearly. Someone else was here, curled up against the decorative brick wall. They were holding their knees, staring into space. A girl, at first glance, though fairly muscular, with a boyish haircut. Her face... she looked like my girlfriend Ann. Ann... There was no doubt Ann was my girlfriend. For the first time, I was certain of someone's relationship with me. This girl's face looked so much like hers it was uncanny. Like a big sister, maybe. "She has a wider mouth", I thought. Her body was bigger though.
"Who...?" I tried to talk to her, but I wasn't sure what to ask. There was too much to sort out anyway, and she seemed also to have a lot on her mind. The sound of my voice was also new. Deeper... no, higher. Different, for sure. I took a long breath. The swimsuit was too damn tight. Despite not wanting to undress in front of a stranger, I couldn't bear it any longer. I took the strips down my shoulders, freeing my new chest and keeping the swimsuit hanging around my torso. I was weirded out by the unfamiliar appendages, but also proud in a deep part of my brain.
Hogging them for a few seconds, I wondered what was between my legs, for some reason. As expected, it was the usual set of female genitalia, an equipment I should have been familiar with, having clear memories of possessing one. However, as my hand patted my crotch, I was struck by a feeling of vertigo. Something was supposed to be there. I was supposed to have a penis, I remembered having a penis. Again, those opposing memories.
I decided to concentrate on finding out the meaning of all this, rather than exploring my body further. Two sets of memories... What kind of phenomenon could cause that? And like that, the lightning that cleared the fog I was in since my waking illuminated my whole being: The Big Merge. The dream. The Merge happened and I was the result of it. I was two people.
Finally realizing that fact, everything made sense and it was so much easier to sort my memories in respective mental shelves. Names: Sean / Sheril; gender: Male / Female; age: 19 / 18... After a few minutes, I had a pretty clear idea of my two identities. As I was still in this tiring process, the girl interrupted me.
"Hey. Are you there? Are you okay?" She said in a low voice like she was imitating a man. She sounded rough but concerned.
I look back at her. It wasn't hard now to guess who she was. Who they were. My brother... my friend was now merged with my role model... my girlfriend. They had a fit body, a middle ground between Jason's brawny physique and Ann's slender silhouette. Their hair, while a bit longer, was similar in style to Jason's. The color though, was neither blonde nor brown, but something in between: a light auburn, almost reddish. Their face was a lot more similar to Ann's than Jason's. A bit squarer, maybe, but still extremely beautiful. Their chest seemed a bit smaller than Ann used to be, but I inferred it might just be because of the bigger frame.
They were still wearing Ann's bikini top and probably the bottom too under Jason's trunks.
A sad realization finally set in as I diverted my gaze. Ann... I was supposed to be with her, with my soulmate. My brother had taken her from me. And now I was stuck, stuck with... myself. I instinctively put a hand on my mouth, as if I expected to throw up. I felt grossed out by my Sheril half. A punny, stupid, and bratty little girl. A loud mouth incapable of self-reflection, that's who I was. In reality, Sean didn't have such a low esteem of Sheril, but the sensation of losing my loved one was angering me, which in turn activated my Sheril insecurity. My two identities were bringing out the worst of each other and a wave of self-hatred swept me away. I started sobbing loudly, making me hate even more my girly and immature side.
"Wow, hey! It's alright, it's alright." My brother/girlfriend said, surprised by my sudden reaction. She took me in her arms, enveloping me like a mother would do to her child. It felt good, as much as I didn't want to admit. Ann was still there, she was still there with me even if she looked a bit different. It calmed me to think that, and I quickly reciprocated the embrace, hugging her tight around her firm waist. I was definitely smaller now. I finished sniffing like that for a few minutes as she caressed my hair (which I noticed was still styled as pigtails).
I finally managed to get a hold of myself and sat back straight. "S-sorry about that. I guess it's hard dealing with those new emotions..."
"I get what you mean, sis. Don't sweat it." She replied with a signature Jason wide grin.
I recoiled in horror. "SIS?!" I screeched, louder than was my intention.
They gave me a quizzical look. "Well, yeah. I know I look a bit different now, but it's me, Jason. You still haven't figured it out?"
I frowned. "I know who you are in there. I just expected you to be Ann."
They (or maybe he) laughed. "Okay, you're still not fully getting it yet, Sheril. It's alright. I'm actually both me AND Ann. We merged."
I winced at the name. His little smug tone was a premiere for me. Or at least my Sean part. It was fairly common for Sheril though, and annoying as hell. I pinched my nose in frustration, in a typical Sean fashion. "I know who you are. Both of you." I said in a low and slow manner. "You are as much Ann as you are Jason, so why are you talking about her in the third person?"
He looked at me with a dumb expression. "I dunno. It just feels more natural. I feel more like Jason than Ann. What's the big deal, sis?"
My face was slowly decomposing. I stood up in disarray. "What do you mean by that? How can you be more one than the other? AND STOP CALLING ME SIS, I'M SEAN!"
It took me a few seconds to register the irony of my comment. And a few more to think about that. I wasn't more Sean than Sheril, not really. I remembered equally growing up as a boy and a girl, their lives, their feelings, their hopes and dreams. But something felt a bit wrong when I thought of myself as Sheril. My Sean personality was too strong maybe? Not really. Sheril was a lot more vocal, usually. No, the difference was a matter of Ego, of confidence, I realized. Sheril had a major lack of self-esteem, now reinforced by the image Sean's mind was reflecting of herself. And while I, Sean, wasn't particularly the most confident individual of all time, it never had been a big problem in my life either. Plus, reciprocally, Sheril's love was boosting my Ego big time, which was kinda sad. She just preferred to see herself as me rather than I preferred to see myself as her, and as long as I believed it like that, I could more or less function.
Jason lifted himself up. The new girl was towering me big time, my eyes ending up at the level of her breasts. Jason had always been taller than me, but not by much. I had been decently tall -much more than Ann at least- and even if their fusion had taken more of his height than her, it made me realize how small I had become. I was only a few inches taller than Sheril was, which didn't mean much.
"If you want me to call you Sean, it's fine with me, si- huh... man." He chuckled. "Sorry, it's a bit hard though, you look so much more... girly," He said and pointed to my bare chest.
I turned red from embarrassment. I had completely forgotten that part. I quickly ran to the lounge chairs to take my Sheril's towel from one of them, rolling it around my torso. My perky breasts kept it tucked neatly.
"Okay, let's start again," I said as I walked back to them. "Can you please concentrate on Ann? I understand it comes easier for you to act like Jason, but I need to talk with my girlfriend right now..."
They winced at that and looked away. "I... I don't think I can do that."
"I'll be Sheril if you want afterward!" I pleaded. "I just need to witness she's still here somehow... That you're still alive, Ann. Please."
I took a step towards them, and they took a step back. They were still avoiding eye contact. I let them think in silence for a few minutes. They were pacing around, looking at their hands.
Finally, they spoke: "She's in here, Sean. Don't worry about that..."
"Then talk to me! As Ann! I know it's possible, I'm in the same situation as you, remember?" Even if it wasn't natural to think of myself as Sheril, she was still me. I knew I could summon her personality if necessary, like standing on one leg rather than the other. But right now, I was too focused on my bond with the love of my life, a powerful feeling that Sheril had never felt until now.
"I just can't do that right now. I need to stay Jason."
"Give me at least an explanation!" Bits of Sheril's stubbornness were leaking into my mind.
They sighed. "She's not feeling right, okay? It would hurt too much..." Their voice sounded tighter and tighter. I could see it, she was struggling not to come out, shielding herself behind Jason's big personality. But Jason had probably never felt that either, he must have been lost to this strange new pain.
I very slowly took a step forward, as if I was trying not to scare a frightened animal. "Baby," I said in the calmest voice I could mutter. "I know I look very different right now, but it's me. I'm here, okay? We're still together-"
She pushed me away with her two giant arms. The strength and speed were enough to throw me away on several feet. I wouldn't have been able to stay standing if not for the wall behind me.
"WE'RE NOT TOGETHER!" she cried in a much more feminine voice than it had been. Tears started rolling from her eyes. "It's over, don't you get it? It was our only chance and we blew it. We were supposed to be together forever, it was our destiny, our dream and now it's gooone..."
She wailed like I had never heard her wail, and certainly not Jason. My eyes were feeling up again at the sight. I knew her feelings, and I wanted to curse the world too, but I was also so relieved to hear her back. Ann, my only true love, was still here at my side, behind it all.
I hugged her again, this time trying to comfort her. She was so tall it didn't feel right, but she took me in and bent down to put her wet face on my shoulder. I stood there, caressing her back and letting her take it all out.
After a moment, I led her to a lounging chair so we could sit next to one another. "Do you remember the last time you felt sad like that? I guess it was when Jumbo died. We did a Viking funeral..." I said in a weak voice.
She gave me a weak smile. "You made the tiny boat yourself. It was very sweet of you to take so much time for my stupid frog."
"Jumbo was not stupid, he was just special! And I couldn't let you flush him in the toilet." I snarled.
She chuckled, still sniffing. Taking a trip down memory lane wasn't without reasons. I wanted her to focus on herself, on us, and help her understand that the small girl in front of her was still her boyfriend. It seemed to work as intended because she looked me in the eyes with a sad smile. Her deep dark eyes, reddened by the tears, were still hers.
"If I look closely, I can still see you in there..." she said meekly. It made me realize I hadn't seen my face yet.
"I am. Still here. Still by your side." I answered.
She looked back at her feet, biting her lips. "Except you're my sister now..."
It fell on me like a brick, waking back my Sheril part. Even if Jason was hard to discern under this girl's traits, I knew it was really my brother I was looking at. I was in love with him, indirectly, and the idea was quite nauseating. I kept silent for a moment, wondering. Was Sean's love strong enough to make me do something so revulsing like incest? I just have to forget about Jason. He's not relevant anymore, I thought. As much as I knew how immoral it was, I wanted to hold on to this love. I wanted to forget myself in it.
I looked back at her, and with the most quiet voice, I uttered: "I don't... care."
Her eyes widened back at me in surprise. Apparently, she was going through the same fight. But I knew her. I knew our mutual feelings could win any challenges. Slowly, like she was about to touch a flame with her bare hands, she approached her face to mine. We were both red like the day of our first kiss. As I could feel her hot breath hitting my nostrils, I closed my eyes and ended the gap myself.
Our lips met with intensity. Her tongue was first to enter my mouth, taking the entire space. She wasn't kissing like we used to at all, but I didn't care: at this moment, I was like a maiden experiencing her first kiss ever. Our size difference made it natural for me to assume a new, more supporting role. We kissed passionately for an unknown amount of time, completely lost in bliss.
As we finally broke it, we knew our love was indestructible. It had survived the biggest challenge we had ever met, and we smiled at each other, truly happy.
"I would have missed that." She finally said. "If we had fused together I mean. We wouldn't be able to make out, I guess."
As we cuddled, my eyes met with her crotch. I gulped when I caught on the suspicious bulge it sported. "Huuh... D-do you have..." I started saying, not daring to finish my sentence.
"A dick? Yeah, I still have one. Or have one now, I guess. You don't?"
I shook my head, taken aback by their bluntness.
"Weird. I wonder what are the rules about that... Maybe I was just packing more than you." They said with a grin.
The fact Jason's personality reappeared while we were still cuddling made me wince. I broke the hug. "Of course talking about that would make you Jason again..."
They laughed. "Don't worry, I'm still Ann too. I think I'm slowly finding a balance between them both."
My curiosity for male genitals coming exclusively from Sheril, it was also canceled by the reminder it was Jason's pickle between their legs. I made a disgusted face when he tried to cuddle back.
"Oh, I see Sheril is here." He mocked.
I pulled out my tongue, either sarcastically or instinctively, I couldn't say. He guffawed and stood up, stretching their chiseled body.
"Maybe we should go inside now that we're feeling better. I'm curious to know more about the global situation."
I followed at their side as we walked back. "By the way, isn't it too quiet around here? You would expect chaos, people screaming... Are we the only ones merged?"
"Naaah, we all had the dream," they said with leisure. "It's a very calm residential neighborhood. The few old couples around must be lost sorting all their memories, but I'm sure it's a lot more chaotic downtown."
That made sense, but I still had lots of questions in my mind. What about people driving? Or in planes? It must have caused accidents all over. What about people with no opposite gender nearby?
"What about Mom and Dad?" I decided to ask.
"Which ones?"
"The ones we share, dummy," I answered back, very Sheril-like.
"I'm your boyfriend now, you shouldn't call me like that." They joked.
I winced at the insinuation. "Girlfriend. As Ann." I snarled.
"Sure, but I'm still the one with a cock here..." She answered, pinching my bubbly butt with one hand.
"Yeek!" I screamed with a jump and they laughed loudly. I slapped the hand with a mean gaze. The cocky attitude coming from Jason was very new in a flirt setting and I was scared to find out how this relationship was going to play out. Each time Jason's personality was acting out, my Sheril instincts were brought back too, which was slowly setting up a weird chasing game between us and the immoral aspect of our bond.
***
The Shower
We walked past the sliding doors inside the cool interior. Our house. I chuckled at the fact I was now officially living with my girlfriend. I guess we had two addresses now, but this house was a lot nicer than Sean's old one. My parents might not like it, though..., I wondered. Come to think of it, I should try and contact them as soon as possible.
"Well, first thing I wanna do is see my face," I said out loud.
"Oh yeah, same. I tried to see my reflection in the pool but I couldn't catch much."
A wide mirror was hanging in the hall near the stairs. I held my breath and I stood in front of it.
It was one thing to not recognize the body you're in, it was another level to see a new face in the mirror. And what a face. I was hella cute. Sheril's pretty face had blossomed under some of Sean's more mature traits. My eyes were still blue, but instead of big round balls, they had taken Sean's almond shape. The whole face was more vixen while keeping some of Sheril's original innocence. My hair was jet black had kept the pigtails, reminding me of some Asian cosplayers. I looked a lot closer to my actual age. Who would have thought that merging with a guy would have made me so feminine?
"Woow. I look a lot more like Ann than Jason, heh? No wonder you were expecting me to act like her at first." My partner said as they made all kinds of weird faces.
"Well, I certainly don't look like Sean," I added.
"You do in some ways. At least you don't look as much like Sheril as I do Ann. That's a relief."
"I bet..."
They looked at me through the mirror. "For Ann, the simple fact that Sean is inside is enough, but for Jason, I have to try and trick my mind into thinking you're just an unknown gorgeous girl who happened to share some similarity with my sister."
I blushed at the compliment. Being called gorgeous was raising some of Sheril's ego. I took off the ribbons from my hair, letting it flow on the back of my neck. "Does that help?" I asked.
"Thank god, yes." They sighed and bent down for a kiss.
I reciprocated, but more timidly, not able to shake the feeling I was kissing Jason this time. As we broke, I cleared my voice. "I really need a shower, my skin is still sticky from the solar cream..."
"Oh, okay." They said, sounding a bit disappointed.
I gave them a peck on the cheek as an apology. "I'll be back soon, I just need to freshen up."
I entered the spacious bathroom on the second floor. It was interesting to compare the quality of life of my two families. Sheril had never realized how good she had it before. Spoiled brat, I scowled myself.
I finally had the chance to put off my mixed swimwear. Looking at myself again in the mirror, unclad with my dark mane untied, a strong feeling of vanity and pride enveloped me. I gave a cocky smile at my reflection. I was fully female and had no explanation for that. My biggest wonder was my new perky breasts that I had estimated to be a C cup. Far from Sasha's utters, but still a very big improvement on my previous sizes. Where could they come from?
I took a deeper examination at my crotch. I could feel a mourning coming from Sean's loss of his manhood. As my Sheril part was more accustomed to the female anatomy, it was taking the lead in this investigation. I looked back at my reflection's gaze while running my fingers around my slit. How strange, I thought, to be aroused by my reflection. The taste for girls was new to me as Sheril, and it wasn't unpleasant. I bit my lips as I pushed a finger inside, it was already wet. My own muffled moan was raising the flow even more.
Not wanting to be caught by my brother, I turned on the shower, to better resume my exploration behind the sound of falling water. The wide shower was also equipped with a mirror on one side, so I could still peek at myself. Taking advantage of my Sheril mind under the wheel, I decided to partake in a little fantasy. I started imagining Sean going down on my new self.
"Sean... keep going..." It was a weird revelation for Sean, who was now also experimenting self-arousal, by his old male self. As cringed as he was deep inside of me, I for once felt even more pleasure. My love for him was drowning him, forcing him to watch in disarray.
"We are one now, Sean. You're inside me. I'm inside you... We're *moan* together forever."
I was slowly speeding up the pace, feeling a climax already climbing its way. "Sean! I love you, Sean! I'm closer to you than Ann would ever be!"
Here it was, my first orgasm in my new home. "You're mine! You're mine! You're miiiiine!" I screamed at my reflection, as the powerful wave of pleasure engulfed me.
Catching my breath, I chuckled: "Who's the brat now, huh?"
*knock, knock, knock*
"Sean? Is everything okay? I heard you scream."
The call of my other half's name was enough to flip me back. Shame quickly replaced my earlier demeanor. I felt like I had cheated Ann with myself.
Not hearing a response, she opened the unlocked door. Shit.
"I... knocked a toe in the corner!" I improvised weakly.
The sliding doors were filled with steam, so I couldn't see her. I only heard the sound of rubbing clothes. A few seconds later, the doors opened.
"I thought it would be quicker if we shared a shower," she said. "Or it might take longer if we knocked another toe."
She smiled mischievously. My eyes went instinctively to the odd member attached to her otherwise feminine body. Neither Sheril nor Sean could attest to its resemblance to Jason's old one, but it was certainly sizeable. Its length was not what made me stare longer than I should have: the lack of visible testicles was my first surprise. The skin around it was also making some kind of fold.
"Yeah I know, it doesn't look exactly like your classic male anatomy." They chuckled.
It seemed to work fine though, as the already half-erected penis rose slowly to a full stand. I became crimson and looked away, my stare certainly responsible for the change of elevation.
They closed the distance, gently lifting my chin with their fingers, and kissed me once more. Never had Ann been so assertive before. Jason's personality had completely changed our dynamic. I was now the submissive one. I didn't know what to think of it yet, still figuring out where this relationship was going. The hard hot rod poking at my belly made me flinch back.
"I-I don't know if I'm ready for that yet..." I said, a bit guilty for my earlier session.
"If not for the full act... would you mind helping me with that thing? You know... with your... mouth?" She muttered. The shyness at the request made it typically Ann. She always had a coy demeanor when she felt kinky, which was quite often.
"You want me to give you a blowjob?!" I gulped. For some reason, I had even more apprehension for oral than actual regular sex.
She went on the defensive: "Oh come on! I've done it all the time for you, what's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that I've never done it, for once..." I answered.
"Not even Sheril?" She asked.
I shook my head. Sheril was a virgin, actually. I had a few boyfriends, but never went farther than kissing.
"Well, I won't force you, of course." She said reassuringly, clearly fighting against her male urge. "Let me take care of it myself."
I sighed. If I wanted to continue my relationship with Ann fully, I'd have to do it sooner or later. "No, it's okay. I'll try."
"You're sure? I don't want you to feel obliged..." She said with utmost seriousness.
I smile at her caution and nod. "I guess part of me is kinda curious."
"Don't tell me which part, please." She said, wincing a bit.
Right... I was about to commit incest. Jason was probably trying his best to forget I was also his sister. I crouched awkwardly, not wanting to hurt my knees on the tiling. The pulsing dick was a few inches from my face. Closing my eyes, I tried to make the mixing between my two personalities. Putting Sheril away while keeping her interest in the male appendage was difficult, but I was slowly coming to it. I'm a girl, a heterosexual girl who's about to give a blowjob to my lover, Ann…
I put my lips on the tip. The smell wasn't as potent as I thought, even enjoyable. Then I took a grip at the base of the shaft with one of my dainty hands, the other one holding her firm leg to keep balance.
"Oh boy..." said my partner, holding onto the wall with anticipation.
Slowly, I pushed the head to my mouth, parting my lips. As it went in, I realized the girth was a lot harder to fit in than I expected. I had to almost dislocate my jaw like I was trying to take a bite of a giant burger.
"T-try not to put your teeth on it..." complained Ann.
"Hmm mmHmm!" I replied.
"What?"
"I'm trying," I repeated after putting it out. "You're just too big."
She laughed, a bit embarrassed. "Never had that problem with you..."
I gave her a dark look. "Shut up if you want me to resume."
"Yes ma'am."
I put myself back in character. That time, I curled my lips around my teeth so as to limit their contact with the shaft. I then started giving it a back-and-forth motion. It wasn't a very practical experience, but looking up, I saw my partner looking at me in fascination. It was an odd angle, her face shielding me from the water pouring around, her wet short hair leaking thin flows on my head. Her chest was covering part of her chin and in her eyes shined a lust I never saw in her.
The blow was not very pleasurable in itself from my perspective, but her desire for me was enough to stir my own arousal. I felt happy to give, I felt sexy and I felt love. I started putting more sensuality in my work and kept eye contact. I broke the pace with licks and kisses in between strokes. Her only reaction was small grunts, enough to comfort me that I was doing something good.
Playing a lot on my feminine charms was somewhat dangerous as I was close to waking too much of Sheril's mind. I'm sucking my brother's cock! was the last thing I wanted to think about, but if I went too much on the other side, Sean would be noticing he had another guy's cock in his mouth. It was a true rope-dancer act, but as long as I kept my poise, the experience was outstanding. My hand wanted nothing more than play with my clit, but I couldn't risk it in my shaky stance.
The frustration sped up my back and forth, and without warning, her pulsing dick spurted hot semen into my mouth. Through pure motion reflex, I swallowed the bitter and slimy liquid, only to fall down and gag into the faucet. I spat what was left in my mouth, cleaning it with hot water, but what had been gulped stayed inside.
"Didn't you teach me to warn you when I was about to cum?" I snarled, the unpleasant taste still lingering in my mouth.
"S-sorry... I guess I was too focused on the feeling..." she answered not so apologetically.
I finally stood back up. Looking back in the mirror, I was slowly catching on to what I had just done. I sucked a dick. I sucked a dick as a girl and swallowed. My mind was fully back to Sean, which made me feel extremely ashamed as if a new level of my masculinity had been ripped from me. Is there still some left in me?
"God, that was... so intense. Even as Jason, I don't remember experiencing a head like that. Are you sure it was your first time?" They said, a bit too genuinely.
Well, now it's definitely gone... My face was already too red from the act to show any more of my shame. I gave my reflection a knowing smile. That being said, I'd also have loved a blow from that girl. Too bad she's me.
At last, I could have an actual wash.
"I don't know if any of my clothes will fit me," I said as we got out.
"Eventually we'll have to go shopping, but for now you can steal something from Mom's closet. I'm sure she won't mind." Jason answered as he played a bit with his breasts in the mirror. Yep, that's him in there right now. Probably all that male lusting summoning him back.
"Why do you say that?"
"I had a quick call from them while you were busy knocking your toe." He grinned.
I coughed to hide my embarrassment. I was relieved by the news. "Oh, they're alright? Who did they-"
"They merged together, as they wanted." He cut me, predicting my following question. "They're still at Auntie's house. She merged with one of her neighbor's sons, apparently. It's a bit of a mess out there, so they told me they won't be home tonight."
"What the plan for us, now?" I asked as I finished tying up a towel around my hair.
"Let's take the time to get news from our other families and friends for now. We'll decide what to do when we know more." They answered, pragmatically.
***
Phone Calls
As suggested by Jason, I looked into our mother, Elisa's closet. Her wardrobe was neither to any of my identities' tastes, but she fitted my new build fairly well. I was very sad at the fact none of my cutesy dresses would ever fit me now, at least half of me was. The other had not much to add in the matter of women's clothing except that Sheril's "cutesy clothes" were childish and it was past time for her to upgrade her style.
I skimmed out for something that wasn't screaming "old woman's outfit". The best I ended up finding was a yellow and blue floral dress that was SO old-fashioned that it was coming back to style. Her underwear options were a tad too small but worked fine for now. I added white tights to complete the look.
Walking back to the bathroom, I brushed my new silky hair and decided to style it in two low-braided pigtails, ending them with my precious ribbons. Maybe not the most mature hairstyle, but there was progress, and it just fitted the dress perfectly. Very Cottagecore. I'm so cute like this! I thought, smiling happily at my vintage look. I was ready to shoot an episode of Little House on the Prairie. Without thinking, I finished up by putting on some makeup: rosing my cheeks and enhancing my new eyes.
When some of my Sean's mind reappeared, I felt like I'd been bamboozled by myself. I'm doomed to be a girly girl now, am I? Well, I have to admit it does suit me.
As I went back downstairs, Jason/Ann was sitting on the couch, looking at their phone.
"That's what you're wearing, huh." I said not without contempt at their choice of outfit. They went for some of Jason's clothes, which were of course very loose on their new frame. The tank top they chose, which was probably the tightest Jason owned, was so wide it showed a big deal of their braless cleavage, while the elastic shorts, maintained to their waist by a makeshift belt out of some rope, were looking almost like a two-legged skirt.
They raised an eye to me at my comment. I proudly gave them a little swirl, posing. "Not too shabby, huh?"
After a few seconds of silence, they guffawed loudly. I made a pout to their reaction, hands on my hips.
"What."
"Oh nothing, nothing." they managed to catch their breath. "I guess you're back to Sheril, is all. I might have forgotten she was in there."
"Yeah, well, she's half of me, yes." I retorted "You know, I was hoping being with Ann would make you less of a jerk, Jason. Guess I was wrong."
"Oh come on, sis. Don't be upset. It's not a bad look, it's just really... you, I guess."
"Not more than your choice is really you, bro. You know you're not a guy anymore, huh? What's up with your outfit?" I interjected.
He shrugged. "Ann's slim jeans don't fit me anymore, as you might expect. I don't have much choice for now."
"Well, I hope it won't be your new style from now on..." I sulked as I sat in the armchair on the other side. I was too Sheril and he was too Jason to cuddle right now.
I reached for Sean's phone which had been sitting on the coffee table until now. There was a few missed calls from Mom's number. "Shit."
"What's up?" They asked.
"My mom. She's been trying to reach me. I should have done that sooner." I said, worried.
"You're right, I haven't tried to contact my other family either yet. Let's take care of that now." They looked for Ann's phone in her bag and went outside so we could each have some space.
I first tried to unlock my phone with my fingerprint, which of course didn't work. Thankfully, I still remembered my password. It took a pretty long time for the phone to pick up.
"Yes, who's this?" said a mysterious croaky voice. It didn't sound like my mother at all.
"Huh, Hi? I'm looking for Sandra. Sandra Wang?" I asked.
"Listen, girl. I'm having a hard time here, like everybody else, and I don't have much time. Can you start by introducing yourself?"
I was quite baffled by the unfamiliarity of the tone. Of course, I was expecting my parents to be merged, but the rude voice was completely unknown.
"I'm Sean, her son. Is my mother here? Is everything alright?" I started worrying.
It took them a few seconds to answer: "Oh, Sean! It's good to finally hear from you. Sorry, I didn't notice your name on the phone."
"Huh, Mom? Is that you?" I asked, still unsure.
"Well, yeah in part. That's my number, what did you expect?" She answered dryly. Her pitch, while still feminine, was very coarse, like a long-life smoker. It didn't make sense for a fusion of both my parents.
"Who are you with?" I asked the next logical question.
"Richard." I had no idea who that was. "Richard Dickinson? My coach from the swimming club. I guess I wasn't talking to you about it much, huh."
That was troubling, but it made sense. At this time of the day, my father might have still been at work.
"And what about Dad? Do you have news from him?"
"No." She said icily.
"Aren't you worried?" I asked, a bit surprised by the apparent indifference.
"Listen, kid. I have bigger fish to fry here. I tried to call the guy a few times already. I have a wife to take care of. The situation is enough of a mess as it is."
I was shocked by the tone. My mother had always been a polite and caring woman. Clearly, the other mind was leading at the moment.
"Can I actually talk to my mother, Richard?" I raised my voice.
I wasn't used to talking so boldly to one of my parents, but the tone they used on me since the beginning of the call was making it difficult for me to treat them as such. It seemed to be effective, as the silence following was telling.
"Ugh, alright. Sorry, Sean. I'm sure you know how it feels to share a mind with someone. It's easy to get lost. But I'm still here, sweetie." She said. The tone had changed drastically.
"Yeah, I understand," I answered, relieved.
"Did you merge with your girlfriend? Are you at her house?" She asked, a lot more concerned.
"No, I'm at the Sanders. I ended up with Jason's little sister..." I replied, a bit ashamed for some reason.
"Oh, I see. Sorry it didn't go like you wanted. At least you're in a nice home. Listen, it's probably better if you stay with them, at least for the time being. I have many things to get straight in Richard's life, and with your dad not answering my calls..."
"I'll try to call him. I'm sure he's alright." I said, trying to comfort her.
"I don't know much about the Sanders’ daughter, but she seemed to have a good effect on you, you sound more mature!" She teased. The irony made me chuckle with embarrassment. "Anyway, I really need to get going. I'll explain things to you later. Let's keep in touch, okay?"
"Sure, Mom. Good luck."
"I love you, son. No matter what, I'm still your mom."
I couldn't refrain my eyes from watering as I hung up. The reality of my family life being completely in shambles hit me like a rock. At the same time, I was relieved to hear she could still be herself. I took a few minutes to calm down. I could see Ann outside through the sliding doors, walking in a circle as she talked on the phone. What a fucking mess we're in…
I tried to call my dad, no dice. I tried to rationalize the fact he was probably still figuring things out. After all, it had taken me all this time to think about reaching out to them. But I couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened. At this hour, he could have been driving home when it hit him, pulling him in some kind of traffic accident... Did people have to touch each other for it to start? I didn't think about asking my mom how it happened to her, that would have been an obvious question…
I decided to search on the internet for information. Most news outlets were still bare of any news. I imagined most companies weren't in any state of running properly. The internet was still working at least, that was good. On social media, there were plenty of posts. Mostly it was people showing off their new appearance to the world: "Wow, I'm so freaking cute!", "My boyfriend and I merged. Look at the result, OMG I can't.", "So guys, smash or pass?", etc.
As I continued scrolling through the posts, I realized something interesting. The resulting appearances went from androgynous women to very feminine ones. There were no boys in sight, at least not apparent ones. Probably some of them had male genitalia (some seemed to confirm that), but no real masculine bodies anywhere.
Chewing this thought, I suddenly received an incoming call. I didn't know the number, but I answered anyway.
"Huh, hello?"
"H-hi. I'm trying to contact Sean?" the voice answered. It sounded very sultry and feminine.
"I'm Sean. Who is it?"
"Oh, thank god. I wasn't sure I remembered your number. It's me, dad." The woman said.
A wave of relief washed me. "Dad! I was worried. I tried to call you..."
"I'm so sorry, Sean! I lost my phone in the panic... It's a long story. Memories took some time to settle. Where are you? Are you alright? Did you merge with Ann?" His voice sounded quavering, he was visibly stressed out.
"I'm not with Ann no... I merged with Sheril. She's Jason's sister. We were at their house when it happened." I explained.
"Oh, okay! I guess you must be sad not to be with Ann, but that's still a good place to end up."
"What do you mean?" I asked, perplexed by his reaction.
"Well, the Sanders are quite the wealthy family. Now that you're their daughter, I guess it means you're inheriting it."
I was dumbfounded. He was right, sure, but the pragmatic calculation sounded very out of place in such circumstances. The Sheril in me couldn't help but find it offensive, like some kind of arranged marriage for money. Still, I let it slide, not wanting to start an argument.
"Sure, I guess. Who did you merge with, Dad? Mom tried to join you too, you know."
"Oh, huh. Just an unknown woman, I don't know." He said like he was trying to avoid the subject.
"You don't know? Wait, you don't have her memories?" I tried to clarify.
"Oh, yes. Yes, I do. I meant I didn't know her before. I've seen her before, actually. She works at the company, but only from far away..." His speech was messy. I guessed it was his new "mindmate" personality altering his usual calmer demeanor.
"Okay. How did you two merge? Were you still in the office?" I asked, this time curious to know more about how it happened for people not in direct contact. A weird silence followed my question. "Dad?"
"Yes, I'm here, sorry. We were leaving the building at the same time. It happened in the parking lot. That's how I lost my phone and..." He started to explain.
My mind drifted away when I saw Ann walk inside. She passed the living room, gave me a quick glance with a stoic expression, and went upstairs. I could easily tell something was up.
"Anyway, Dad," I interrupted his incoherent rumbling." I need to go. You should call Mom as soon as possible. She was very worried about you."
"Oh, okay Sean. Actually, I have a lot to take care of here, myself. Can you text your mom for me? I'll call her soon, I promise but... it's complicated. Stay safe at the Saunders, I'm sure you'll be fine there for now." He wrapped up the conversation.
"Hm, sure. Keep me updated, okay? Bye, Dad." I terminated the call.
I couldn't help feeling spite at the way my parents could so quickly hand me over to another family. Was our bond so brittle? At least I knew I had a solid home here now. Mom and Dad would never get rid of me like that... The other ones, I mean.
I walked back upstairs and knocked on Jason's bedroom door. I entered to find Ann sitting on the bed, looking at her feet. "Is everything alright?" I asked with concern.
"I guess... Everybody's safe." She answered, still looking down.
I sat next to her. "What's up?"
She sighed. "It's Mia. She... she merged with Dad."
Mia was Ann's little sister. She was only 10, and Ann had always been very protective of her. I didn't get the full picture of what it meant right away.
"I can imagine being merged with a parent is not ideal..." I risked.
She looked at me with a serious gaze. "It's not just that, Sean. She's only 10 while Dad is 46." Her voice was heavy, trying to contain her sob, and failing. "Now they're apparently looking like a woman in her late twenties. It's so unfair, she skipped her whole youth!"
I took her on the shoulder, patting her back. I didn't know what to say to make her feel better. "H-how did she sound like? Sadden?"
"No, that's the worst part... My dad said he couldn't manage to let her out. He can't stop being in the lead. We... we think he has so much more life experience, he's completely overshadowing her, or something." She said out between her weeping.
As I let her tears soak my dress, I looked out the window. The sun was slowly approaching the horizon.
"You know how old we are right now?" I said after a while. She only sniffed in reply. "We're all really, what? 3 hours old, right now? 4, top."
She raised her head, looking at me with confused red eyes.
"It's only been a few hours since we woke up to our new lives. I know it's hard to believe with everything that happened, but that's the truth." I explained to her. "Don't you think it's a bit early to set things in stone? Your sister might take a longer time to come back to the surface than we did but don't give up on her so quickly. I bet if we put them in front of a My Little Pony episode, your dad won't stand a chance."
She chuckled a bit at my joke and dried her face with her tank top. "Thank you. You might be right actually."
"Of course I am! This all Merge-thing is fucking crazy. We don't know anything about how it works and we can't say how it'll play out tomorrow. I say let's wait a bit before drawing any conclusions, okay?" I reassured her.
She nodded, smiling faintly.
"You should probably go back to them tonight," I said, hiding my pain at the idea.
She, thankfully, shook her head. "It won't be necessary. Mom is with them, she merged with a random guy when she was grocery shopping. Apparently, he doesn't have much of a family of his own. She said it's probably safer not to go out until things settled in, anyway... What about your family?"
I recounted how my calls went.
"Well... you said it best: let's wait before drawing any conclusions. In any case, that settles the fact we shouldn't split. We have responsibilities here too, after all." She noted, before kissing me gently.
I was relieved to hear her say that. Not only was she also my brother, but Ann was above all my only anchor to my Sean life at this point.
***
Evening
"I'm tired of all those emotions. Since we woke up, it has been worry after worry." She said as she stood up. "And I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
I hadn't noticed until now, but the mention of food was enough to give me stomach cramps. On that note, we went to the kitchen. I first tried calling pizzerias, but as expected: everything was closed. It made me wonder how society was going to organize itself now that the world population had been reduced by half. Some structures had already been thought of: we knew our government would soon distribute new identity cards displaying our two old selves. Most accommodations were still unclear though, as too little time separated us from the day of the Dream.
Thankfully the fridge was pretty much full, and Ann was an amazing cook. She surprised me with sautéed bell peppers, something she never did before because of my loathing for the vegetable. She knew from Jason's memories that Sheril, however, loved it. It was quite a weird experience to have half of my brain horrified by something I found so tasty. I ended up winning this fight against Sean and taught him all about the sweetness and crunchiness of bell peppers.
"You're such a great upgrade on my brother, Ann," I said between mouthfuls.
I laughed, their face indicating they didn't seem to know how to react to both a compliment and a jibe.
When the night finally came, we decided to go to bed early, as we were both feeling emotionally drained. Feeling awkward at the idea of sleeping together in either Sheril or Jason's beds, we settled on stealing the master bedroom, taking advantage of tonight's lack of parents.
Our nightly cuddles soon transformed into a make-out session. I blushed, feeling Ann's infamous new member hard against my soft leg. Looking into each others' eyes, we silently agreed to succumb to our curiosity. We both knew what it induced, and how wrong it would be to partake in it without the proper protection, but we both pretended to forget about it. After all, we were used to raw sex in our former bodies… She slowly took down my panties. My heart was pumping like crazy, and it didn't take long for my inside to produce the now-familiar wetness.
Ann was deep inside me. Completely absorbed into the female experience, I had managed to keep Sheril at bay thanks to her lack of sexual experience. Having a dick thrusting into our womb was as new for her as it was for me, and the mostly Ann face that was grunting and gazing into me right now was holding the balance in my favor. With so little of my female self to guide me though, the feeling of the receiving end was truly alien. The sheer discovery of my depth was blowing my mind. I couldn't help myself from moaning anymore, and showing such a feminine side to Ann was embarrassing me greatly. The shame itself also seemed to nourish some kind of twisted arousal. Did I always have a fetish like that? It didn't seem right.
"I'm inside you... Oh boy, I'm inside you..." Ann was whimpering between each push, apparently playing some newly discovered kink of her own. Ann who, before the merge, had always been so passive and shy during our sexual intercourses. But now, she was in the lead and I was wondering what was going through her head. She was living a similar shift in our dynamic after all… well the exact opposite really.
Her movement was increasing, and my moans were more and more audible.
In the middle of it all, Ann's lips let out a terrible truth: "Oh god! I'm really fucking my little sister..."
"What?! What did you... say??" My mind shattered at the statement.
My reaction didn't stop them. "I-I'm so sorry, Sheril. I'm sorry!"
Hearing my other name was flipping me back. I panicked. "Stop it! Stop saying that, you idiot!"
"Oh god! I'm doing it! I'm inside you, sis! We're having sex!" Like me earlier, the shame seemed only to fuel them more. He pushed with added vigor.
"Jason, no! Shut up! You're ruining it!" I whined, but it was too late. I was now fully myself again. Sean couldn't shield me from the truth anymore. I was having my first time, and despite his feminine traits, I could only see my brother's face above mine.
Despite my tremendous disgust, my body was not fighting it. It wanted more, and I was powerless to stop it.
"You're so sexy, Sheril! You're so cute! I can't stop myself!" He yelled, possessed by pure lust for his own sister. Since when did my brother have such awful thoughts? I wanted Ann back! I wanted to be Sean again! But despite my best efforts, I couldn't.
"I'm close, sis. Your freaky brother is gonna cum inside you!" He howled.
"Get out, you moron! At least don't cum inside me!" But instinctively, my legs and arms locked on him, betraying my reason. I moaned and cried at the same time, feeling my climax building up at the same time as his.
We reached it in unison.
"I love you, Sheril!" He screamed when the defilement spread inside of me. I was too absorbed in my own spike to register it, though. My mind was melting in pleasure. Sweet oblivion, take me. I wanted to stay in this state forever.
He collapsed on my side, spent. I stayed frozen in place as hot cum was dripping from my pussy. Slowly, I dug a little hole in the corner of my mind, refusing to face reality at this point.
"Ann? Are you there?" I asked quietly as I was forced into myself again.
"Yeah..." She answered in a whisper.
"What... was that?" I asked, truly more surprised than grossed out now.
"Sorry... I think that's my fault." She said. I didn't know what she meant.
"I mean Ann's fault. I think some of my personal kinks mixed into my Jason persona," she explained, visibly ashamed.
"What do you mean?" I said, intrigued.
"I never talked much about it with you but... I kinda have a fetish for sibling relationships. You know, from my private manga stash?" She looked at me with an awkward smile.
"So that's what those are, huh..." I said, finally solving that mystery. "Guess you don't have many secrets left now, do you?"
She only chortled disturbingly. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I think so. I needed to face the truth of our relationship sooner or later... I guess it was just sharper than I wished it to be..." I answered honestly.
She caressed my hand. "Sorry... again."
"Don't be, I know it's hard to control all of this... Fuck, we're really siblings now. This is going to be a challenge." I understood.
"The world is in such chaos right now. I'm sure our situation is far from being the weirdest one." She said.
"And what about... Mom and Dad?" I winced a bit as calling them like that was calling in my other half.
They gulped. "They must never find out, or we're truly fucked."
The Saunders were a pretty traditional family. Not that a lot of parents would accept their kids to fuck each other, anyway.
"It might spice things up, in a way. Doing it behind their back..." I said.
They raised an eyebrow in my direction. "Is someone warming up at this incestuous kink?"
"I wouldn't say that." I snarled. "I just need to play with this new hand of cards if I want to keep our relationship working."
"Good thinking... sis." They smirked.
"Ugh, that will take time to get used to, though..."
***
Epilogue
“Coming!” I shouted at the doorbell as I ran for the door, ecstatic.
The first year had been quite chaotic, but now that school had finally resumed, a semblance of normalcy had returned. The Great Merge Cabinet, also known as GMC, had managed to sort things out with more or less success, but it worked out in the end. For fusions like us who were just students, the protocol was actually quite simple: we all had to choose to resume one of our old curricula. Jason’s old prestigious college approval was only due to his basketball sponsorship, which was a bit flimsy to begin with, so it was logical for them to pursue Ann’s plans. As for me, Sheril had pretty good grades, so I had decided to go back to high school, this time determined to join them for the next year.
I opened the door to a delivery girl holding a package. Finally, it had arrived! I took the box to my room, eager to open it. Inside was a bunch of new clothes I had bought online. With people worldwide in dire need of outfits for their new shapes, finding something had been a trial at first. It took me the last two months to finally have this package. Before that, I had managed to gather a few clothes by trading my old one. Male outfits were harder to get rid of, but some resilient minds were still trying to clutch to their lost manhood. Others more crafty used discarded male clothes to fashion makeshift attires. I myself used some of Sean’s old t-shirts to make not-too-shabby tops. Really, trends were all over the place.
“Haha, there you are!” I said out loud as I found the dress I was looking for. Since none of Sheril’s old clothes were fitting me anymore, I had to give them all away. So I was glad I had found a similar one she had, only a few sizes bigger. I smiled at it with mischief.
I didn’t call myself Sean or Sheril anymore. With time, the frontier between our two old identities had blurred, and we all started to choose new names for ourselves. Ann and Jason had chosen the very creative name of Jane. It fitted them well, though. For my part, I had chosen a more distinctive one: Naomi. It was a name both Sean and Sheril liked a lot, and I cherished each time my two personalities would agree on something.
I didn’t wait long before putting on the light blue dress and modeling in front of my mirror. As Naomi, I was now used to more mature outfits that Sean found sexy on girls: hand-cut denim shorts, blazers, crop tops… urban streetwear styles, generally. But today I wasn’t dressing for Sean.
Since Sean’s mother found out that his dad had fused with his mistress, my other family had basically broken apart. I still saw them regularly, but separately, and I lived exclusively at the Saunders. Jane on the other hand had still a functioning family from their other half and was going back and forth between the two households. Between that and college, we were seeing each other only once every two weekends. It was hard, especially having to deal with our parent alone most of the time, but knowing it was just a matter of a year helped me pull through with it. They were coming home today, and I had missed them so much I wanted to treat them with something special…
Earlier in the day, I had gone to the stylist to dye my hair. As Naomi, I usually kept my hair loose or tied down, but today I was styling them in very familiar pigtails. I took a final look in the mirror. In front of me stood Sheril, wearing her favorite summer dress, her blonde hair tied in her signature style with her favorite ribbons. Thanks to some clever makeup, I had hidden most of Sean’s traits and enhanced hers. What betrayed me the most was my much more voluptuous curves, which I had no intention of hiding anyway.
“I’m home!” I heard a familiar voice call from downstairs. “Naomi? Are you home?”
“Upstairs!” I answered as I quickly climbed on my bed. Waiting for them to arrive, I lay on my stomach, propped on elbows, my feet swinging in the air and facing the doorway innocently.
“Hey babe-” Jane quickly stopped as she saw me. “S-Sheril!?”
I sat back, slowly pulling off a strip from my shoulder. “Hey, Jason. Mommy’s not home yet. Wanna play with your little sister?”
FIN1 / 1Loading...Loading...- ***
Prologue
One day, Humanity shared a common dream. Every person on Earth, as they slept, dreamt the same vision. In it, they could see themselves and others pulled toward someone of the other sex. As their two bodies collided, they were becoming one single being. One body of two minds. As people woke up, they could feel it: a deep knowledge that it wasn’t only a dream, but some kind of prophecy.
The pragmatics thought of it as Mother Nature fighting against human overpopulation. The poets preferred to think it was a restitution to our primal form where men and women were only the two halves of the same entities.
Sure, there were a few deniers, like there’s always some for Climate Change, but most people knew this day would soon come, the day of an event they soon started to call The Great Merge.
***
Sean
My name, at that time in that place, was Sean. In a few days, I was officially starting college there in my hometown, while my girlfriend Ann was moving away for her studies. I wasn’t particularly worried about it: our relationship had started as early as middle school and was so strong I knew it could even survive years and years of distance. But still, we wouldn’t be able to spend each day together like we did until now, so I wasn’t looking forward to it. To add to the injury, Ann was going to pursue a brilliant career in the medical field thanks to her perfect grades while my medium scores and not-so-wealthy family confined me to a local community college. I couldn’t say I wasn’t jealous.
“Don’t worry, honey. It’s just a matter of time anyway. We’ll be one in no time, so we’ll enjoy my new university together soon enough!”
That’s what Ann was always telling me when I shared my mixed feelings towards our future. We were often seen as the perfect couple. I believed in her love for me as much as mine for her. So when the Dream occurred, it was only natural for us to conclude we would fuse with one another. Even if the idea of losing their identity was scary for everyone, Ann and I felt like it was the most romantic thing that could happen to us. There was excitement mixed in the fear. But what if the Great Merge happened while she was away? Would it still work? Would it make her merge with a random dude from her school? Nobody knew for sure, but I didn’t want to leave it to chance, that’s why I was making sure to be with her as much as I could since the Dream.
Enjoying our last moments of summer, we were spending the afternoon at my friend Jason’s place. Jason's family was quite wealthy and owned a big house with a pool, so it was often him inviting us over and during summer vacation, we almost spent more time there than in our own houses. I stared dreamily at Ann as she got out of the bathroom in her newly brought red bikini. “Wow…” I was the luckiest man on earth. She was wearing her wavy brown hair in a ponytail and her usual fair skin had taken a golden hue from all our time here. An angel. Not only was she the smartest girl I knew with her already mentioned unparalleled academic prowess, she was the most beautiful in the whole world. Sure, I don’t claim I was the most objective, but still. Those green eyes, that cute little nose, and that damn smile… An embarrassed smile that, at that moment, was asking me why I was still looking at her like the first day we met.
“I swear next time I’m going in a diving suit.” she joked.
“Pretty sure you’d still rock it anyway.” I replied.
I loved how humble she managed to stay despite her perfect hourglass figure. She always had this shyness when it came to our desires for one another. I knew she had a kinky side that she was always too embarrassed to show me, like those erotic comics she hid in her room, or the way she blushed when watching a sex scene in a movie. Her modesty was probably the only thing I could see as a default about her personality. She could be a bit passive during our intimacy, but really it was nit-picking. Because yes, having the brain and the looks wasn’t enough for her, she also had to be the most kind-hearted person, making her popular not only with the teachers but every student in our old school.
“Come on, love birds. there’s only a few hours of sun left already!” called out Jason.
He was a great friend. Very sporty, outgoing, and full of confidence. I wasn't especially lacking in that department myself –how could I with Ann at my side– but I've always been a lot more reserved. He had sandy blond hair and a radiant smile that felt very inviting, making him the target of lots of girls' attention.
"Carrie's not here?" I asked him.
"Nah, we split yesterday," he answered casually.
Nothing to be surprised about, it was bound to happen. Jason's adventures never lasted long, as he could be very frivolous. He liked girls but not much commitment, and they often felt insecure in their relationship with him because of his popularity. He never cheated on them, but never reassured them much either. That was the same story with his previous girlfriend.
"Aww, too bad. I really liked Carrie, she was sweet," said Ann who was holding my hand as we walked to the pool area.
A big sliding door was opening directly on the bluest pool, taking much of the space. On our right was a neatly mown lawn and on our left was a stone wall matching the pool’s tiles. At the far end was a big modern pergola shading the lounge chairs under it. There, a familiar silhouette greeted us: “Hey, guys!”
The squeaky voice belonged to Jason's little sister Sheril. The little goblin was always clinging to us like a tick. I cringed at the harsh thought. She wasn't THAT bad. Sheril was a sophomore in our old high school. My guess was that, like most girls from her grade, she saw Ann as a role model or something, and because of that, she spent as much time as she could with us. She was nice, but often tried to monopolize our attention, talking loudly and frequently interrupting us. At the beginning of the vacation, Jason had tried to get rid of her multiple times but quickly forfeited as he often did with her relentless stubbornness. Ann didn't seem to mind her as much as I did as she always seemed impossible to annoy. For that reason, I had to also give up, just trying to ignore her as much as I could.
"How are you today? Do you want to play a game of tag or something? Hey, Ann! Have you seen my new ribbons? I bought them yesterday with Mom. She says they match with my eyes, what do you think?" She started rumbling as she jumped out of the chair and skipped around like a pestering fly.
Despite soon starting her last year of high school, Sheril was quite short for her age, not very developed, and wore her blonde hair in characteristic long and curly pigtails. Because of that, she could almost fool people into thinking she was still a child. Her current swimsuit, a white one-piece with pink flowers, was not helping her case. Despite that, she was definitely cute in her own way. She had big and very light blue eyes. Her button nose and rosy cheeks were covered in freckles and her overall facial features were free of imperfections. She had great potential if she started acting and dressing like her age, but for now, it was difficult to see more in her than a pesky kid.
I gave Ann a knowing smile and let her tank Sheril's attention for the moment. She didn't seem to mind and patiently responded to her endless chatting. I dived into the water with Jason for a few laps.
"So... What's your plan for the Great Merge now?" I asked Jason as we chilled on the other side of the pool. It was an obvious question to ask after his breakup with Carrie.
"Dunno, man. Guess I have to find a new girl soon, heh?" He answered, clearly not too worried.
"I mean, I would if I were you. You don't want to merge with your sister, I presume." I smirked.
He splashed water on my face. "Ugh! Please, no. But we have time, right? I mean everyone says it will happen on New Year's Eve.”
It was a popular rumor. There was no way to know for sure, but since the dream happened a few months prior, people were starting to relax to the idea it wouldn't happen right away.
"Maybe, yeah. But you can't be too cautious about that. Plus it's not like you lack the choice of partner. Half the girls in school want to fuck you, man."
He chuckled. "You really think I'm some kind of sex god or something? If you were not already in your perfect little couple, I'd think you have a crush on me, bro."
It was my turn to splash water at him.
"No but seriously, it must be so cool to have no doubts. You're going to spend your life stuck with your soulmate... You're one lucky dude, man." He said with more seriousness than usual.
"Yeah, I guess I am..." I answered, looking at my reflection in the pool. I couldn't mutter the strength to admit I also had doubts. Sure, being the other half of your half, it seemed like destiny, I couldn't deny that. And even if most of my mind was happy with this perspective, another, deeper part was sad. Who would we be in love with once we'd be one single being?
My thoughts were cut short by the sound of Sheril jumping in the pool. She quickly joined us, with Ann more gracefully following behind her.
"Let's play Chicken Fight!" yelled Sheril, a bit too enthusiastically.
"Again?" complained Jason. I shared the feeling: we played Chicken Fight every time we went to their pool. Well, at least it was a good excuse to caress Ann's smooth legs...
"Yes, but let's switch this time! I want to go on Sean's back!" said his sister in her bratty tone.
It took me by surprise. "Huh? Why?"
"Being on Jason is boring. He's, like, the worst horse. I just want to try out, pleaaaase!" she begged.
I wasn't keen on the idea at all, for obvious reasons. I was ready to rebuke the idea when Ann intervened: "Come on, guys. Try to be good sports, it's only for a few rounds."
Of course. Ann, the voice of reason. How could I say no to those eyes? I sighed and accepted. Seeing Jason take Ann on his back raised in me a pinch of jealousy, but I knew it was unfounded since I had complete trust in both of them. I crouched in the shallow water to let Sheril put her scrawny legs around my shoulders. Lifting her was the easiest thing in the world, and that was when I realized how underbalanced our two teams were: generally, Jason's bulk made up for Sheril's weak arms, which could then compete with our more standard duo. Me and Sheril had no chance.
Jason seemed to have done the same math. He grinned at me with his dashing smile, and charged.
"You okay up there?" I asked Sheril when we rose back from the depth, disoriented.
"Uh-huh. Let's try again." She said, sounding less convincing than she probably wanted.
We brawled for a bit, trying to make the most of our only asset: swiftness. Sheril's light weight allowed me to move around as we spared and I could see Jason starting to tire faster than me. Sheril was laughing loudly, apparently enjoying being tossed in multiple directions. I had to admit that I was starting to have fun too as I saw a thin chance of a possible win.
That's when I saw it. I stopped in my tracks, trying to discern what I was witnessing.
Jason rushed to us when he saw me stop, and I had to stop him loudly: "WAIT!" I screamed. It seemed to work as attended. "W-what's going on with your hands?"
Jason's hands were holding firmly on Ann's thighs, but I couldn't seem to find any gaps between their skins. It looked like they were... fused. My heart sank at this thought. No, no, no, no.
Jason, noticing he couldn't move his hands off Ann, was slowly joining me in the realization. He jerked them violently. Instinctively, I tried to do the same, only to understand I was in the same predicament. My head was boiling with fear. Not now, not now, not now…
The girls took a few more seconds to notice, both screaming in horror. I joined sight with Ann. In the middle of her shock, I could see resignation and sadness starting to rise while her eyes were filling with tears. On my back, Sheril was thrusting and swinging like a mad girl, trying desperately to free herself from my hands that were slowly but surely disappearing into her legs. I tried to lift my head to her face, but it was now firmly glued to her crotch, locking my neck in place.
My eyes locked on Jason in front of me, whose hands had already entirely entered Ann. His head had started entering her abdomen. He looked at me with desperation. He said something to me. I couldn't hear anything behind the screams coming from the top, but I managed to read his lips: "I'm so sorry." After that, he walked towards the edge of the pool as his head completely disappeared inside Ann.
I stayed paralyzed for a few more seconds before my survival instinct kicked in. I tried walking too, but Sheril's hysterical tantrum made it impossible as we stumbled into the water more and more. My vision finally blackened. I fought a little more before I was unable to breathe, either because of water or Sheril's body, I couldn't say. My consciousness quickly-
***
Sheril
My name, at that moment in that place, was Sheril. I lived in the Sunny Hills, a calm suburb above the city, with my parents and my big brother Jason. In a few days, I was starting my last year of high school. It was cool in a way: seniors are the ones all the freshmen are looking up to, but who was I kidding? Nobody was looking up to me, figuratively and literally.
I was the scrawniest girl possible. Only Holly was worse in that category, but she had an illness or something, so she didn't count. I had no breasts to speak of, the flattest ass imaginable. Sure I wasn't ugly, but a cute face doesn't make up for the absence of a body.
My friend Sasha always told me I should wear sexier clothes, but she didn't know what she was talking about. She had tits for days, a bit too much even. What does revealing clothes do when you have nothing to reveal, really? Nothing, you just look stupid. I had to play with the cards in my hand, and my only card was cuteness. So I wore cutesy clothes. Not like my mom would have accepted anything more. If I listened to her, I'd go to school in a space suit. I preferred to be called a child than a nun, personally. At least I had a few guys looking at me. Not the right one, though.
Sean had been my big crush since I entered high school. Tall, half-Asian, jet-black hair hiding his deep black eyes... He was just my dream type, like right from a K-pop band. And it wasn't just his looks. He had that aura of mystery. That low and soothing voice. That shy side-smile that let you wonder what he was thinking about... and he was so romantic. The way he cared for his girlfriend was obvious and intense. Because, yes, Sean had a girlfriend. Not only did he have a girl, he had THE girl. Ann was, like, probably in the top 3 most popular girls in the whole school last year. She was so smart and beautiful, it was just unfair. And the worst part is that I couldn't hate the bitch for how nice she was. I was so jealous of her, it hurt. I couldn't help but compare myself all the time.
I was waiting on the lounging chairs, covered in solar cream. Last summer, I had ended up red as a beet, so I didn't want to risk it this time. I lifted a brace from my swimsuit and took a pick: almost no tan lines. I was just not made for summer. Sasha had invited me to join her at the mall, but I had told her I couldn't today. Because as usual, Sean was coming to the house.
“Ah, I hear them,” said Jason as he came out of the pool. “They prolly want to enjoy their last pool day in peace, Sheril, so don’t start pestering them like usual, huh?”
I stuck my tongue out. Gosh, Jason was the worst brother. He always treated me like I was 5 and I was so sick of it. That goof probably thought he was some sort of womanizer with how many girlfriends he had over the years. I knew the truth though: they broke up each time they realized how fucking dumb he was. His friendship with Sean was a mystery I never managed to crack, but I wasn’t complaining: at least my stupid brother was useful for one thing.
I rolled my eyes watching Jason walk back into the house. I pity the girl who’s going to merge with him…, I thought.
On the day of the Dream, I had first hoped I would merge with Ann so I could be with him. But I quickly understood it would only work with a guy. I of course imagined merging with him. It would be quite romantic in a way, but I realized it meant also killing all hopes of going out with him. But hearing them talk about it, I knew Sean and Ann wanted to merge together. It wouldn’t be so bad, actually: if they merged, they wouldn't be a couple anymore, it would be my chance! I just needed the right partner. I knew of a guy in school who had a crush on Ann (like half of them really). He wasn't too shabby so I told him about my plan. He seemed to be on board. Now I only needed to get closer to Sean before the merge, so he could see me as the next best thing!
At that moment, the door from the patio opened and Jason came out with his friends beside him. "Okay, Sheril, stay cool this time," I repeated to myself.
I beamed and greeted them as they arrived, showing them the new ribbons. Sadly, Sean didn't seem to care much and quickly went into the pool with Jason. Of course, I should have guessed ribbons were not the appropriate subject of conversation... stupid. Ann seemed a bit more interested though, and we talked a bit about our recent outfits. Ann has a great sense of fashion, sexy while keeping it modest enough. I wanted to master that, but I had hesitated to go too far in that direction. I didn't want people to see me as a tasteless copycat. Plus, it would hint a bit too much that I was trying to get Sean's intention by mimicking his girlfriend's style.
"Hum, Sheril?" she interrupted my train of thought. "How about we join the boys in the pool? I'm drying up with that sun."
"Oh, yeah! Sorry!" I said, hoping I wasn't bothering her. "Oh! We should go for a game of Chicken Fight! Do you think we can mix up the teams this time?"
I've been waiting to team up with Sean for once, but it was difficult breaking those two up. I hoped that, by asking Ann first, it wouldn't sound too desperate.
She took a second to answer. "Sure, why not? If the guys are okay."
After a bit more convincing, the guys accepted as well. Sweet! The idea of climbing on Sean's shoulders was already making my heart flutter. He lifted me with ease as I took the opportunity to caress his thick dark mane. What a treat! I was thankful to be in a pool at the time, as my face reddened like a tomato... I was soon put out of my daydreaming as the others shoved us into the water without warning. Jason was his usual brute, of course.
As I climbed back, Sean asked me if everything was alright. I felt like his personal little princess, it was magical! The second round went better. Sean was moving me around so much that I couldn't help myself laughing. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and yelled. "WAIT!"
I was surprised by the abruptness. "What's going on?" I asked, but Sean didn't react. Instead, he addressed Jason, asking him about his hands. I didn't understand, but I could feel my partner's body tensing underneath me. My brother started shaking around violently, and I finally saw it: his hands were stuck to Ann's legs. Not just stuck: fused, like tin on a circuit board. I screamed in horror and tried to get off Sean. No dice. "WHAT'S GOING ON!? WHAT'S GOING ON!?"
They couldn't answer me, too focused on their own thoughts and feelings. My mind was too alarmed to think straight, but as much as I tried to pull myself off his shoulder, I only felt like I was sinking deeper inside him. I finally understood as I saw my brother's face completely disappear inside Ann. The Merge, it was happening. I was merging with Sean! I didn't want to, I wasn't ready to die. I wasn't ready to become someone else. I cried and cried and pulled harder. In the end, Sean fell into the water. I couldn't break free. We were about to drown and I couldn't break free. My last sensation was his head moving inside my belly. How odd...
***
The Wake
Air pulling inside my lungs woke me in shock and pain. A mouth was on mine. I jerked away and coughed out a bunch of chlorine-filled water, the chemical smell stinking up my nose. My lungs were on fire, and it took me a few minutes of coughing to start breathing somewhat regularly again. Even more painful was my head. My brain felt like a throbbing core and my memories were in shambles. I couldn't think of anything before my wake without it burning my frontal lobe.
I focused on my environment. The sun was beating hard on my skin. The pool, yes. I know this place. I must have drowned. My chest felt compressed by a very tight fabric. A silhouette was shielding the beams from my eyes. I could only discern a vague shape. I should know them... my brother? I called the name that came to my mind: "J-jason? Is that... you?" my voice was weak in my biting throat.
The silhouette didn't respond, and got out of my sight, blinding me with the light. Jason... my brother? He's not, though. I don't have siblings... or do I? I decided to sit up to collect my thoughts. Keeping my eyes low to restore my sight, it was then that I saw my body for the first time. I wasn't sure what I expected to see, but I was certain without a doubt that it wasn't that. Something seemed wrong. I was bigger... or smaller? Definitely bigger in some areas, at least. I was wearing a loose swimming trunk over a constricting flowery one-piece. Both gears felt weird and familiar at the same time. What didn't feel familiar was the breasts on my chest. It was a lot bigger than what I was used to. It made sense since I wasn't used to anything at all... right?
My creamy white skin was sticky with solar protection. A reassuring fact since the sun was beating me for who knows how long. I crawled to the shady part of the patio, under the pergola. My mind was slowly but surely coming back to me. I was in my house. I was spending time with my friend and his sister, my girlfriend and my brother... and his friends. The number didn't seem right. Most of the common knowledge was still here, the hazy part was about my daily life. Too many incoherences.
As I sat back on my strangely ample bosom, on the darker side, I could see more clearly. Someone else was here, curled up against the decorative brick wall. They were holding their knees, staring into space. A girl, at first glance, though fairly muscular, with a boyish haircut. Her face... she looked like my girlfriend Ann. Ann... There was no doubt Ann was my girlfriend. For the first time, I was certain of someone's relationship with me. This girl's face looked so much like hers it was uncanny. Like a big sister, maybe. "She has a wider mouth", I thought. Her body was bigger though.
"Who...?" I tried to talk to her, but I wasn't sure what to ask. There was too much to sort out anyway, and she seemed also to have a lot on her mind. The sound of my voice was also new. Deeper... no, higher. Different, for sure. I took a long breath. The swimsuit was too damn tight. Despite not wanting to undress in front of a stranger, I couldn't bear it any longer. I took the strips down my shoulders, freeing my new chest and keeping the swimsuit hanging around my torso. I was weirded out by the unfamiliar appendages, but also proud in a deep part of my brain.
Hogging them for a few seconds, I wondered what was between my legs, for some reason. As expected, it was the usual set of female genitalia, an equipment I should have been familiar with, having clear memories of possessing one. However, as my hand patted my crotch, I was struck by a feeling of vertigo. Something was supposed to be there. I was supposed to have a penis, I remembered having a penis. Again, those opposing memories.
I decided to concentrate on finding out the meaning of all this, rather than exploring my body further. Two sets of memories... What kind of phenomenon could cause that? And like that, the lightning that cleared the fog I was in since my waking illuminated my whole being: The Big Merge. The dream. The Merge happened and I was the result of it. I was two people.
Finally realizing that fact, everything made sense and it was so much easier to sort my memories in respective mental shelves. Names: Sean / Sheril; gender: Male / Female; age: 19 / 18... After a few minutes, I had a pretty clear idea of my two identities. As I was still in this tiring process, the girl interrupted me.
"Hey. Are you there? Are you okay?" She said in a low voice like she was imitating a man. She sounded rough but concerned.
I look back at her. It wasn't hard now to guess who she was. Who they were. My brother... my friend was now merged with my role model... my girlfriend. They had a fit body, a middle ground between Jason's brawny physique and Ann's slender silhouette. Their hair, while a bit longer, was similar in style to Jason's. The color though, was neither blonde nor brown, but something in between: a light auburn, almost reddish. Their face was a lot more similar to Ann's than Jason's. A bit squarer, maybe, but still extremely beautiful. Their chest seemed a bit smaller than Ann used to be, but I inferred it might just be because of the bigger frame.
They were still wearing Ann's bikini top and probably the bottom too under Jason's trunks.
A sad realization finally set in as I diverted my gaze. Ann... I was supposed to be with her, with my soulmate. My brother had taken her from me. And now I was stuck, stuck with... myself. I instinctively put a hand on my mouth, as if I expected to throw up. I felt grossed out by my Sheril half. A punny, stupid, and bratty little girl. A loud mouth incapable of self-reflection, that's who I was. In reality, Sean didn't have such a low esteem of Sheril, but the sensation of losing my loved one was angering me, which in turn activated my Sheril insecurity. My two identities were bringing out the worst of each other and a wave of self-hatred swept me away. I started sobbing loudly, making me hate even more my girly and immature side.
"Wow, hey! It's alright, it's alright." My brother/girlfriend said, surprised by my sudden reaction. She took me in her arms, enveloping me like a mother would do to her child. It felt good, as much as I didn't want to admit. Ann was still there, she was still there with me even if she looked a bit different. It calmed me to think that, and I quickly reciprocated the embrace, hugging her tight around her firm waist. I was definitely smaller now. I finished sniffing like that for a few minutes as she caressed my hair (which I noticed was still styled as pigtails).
I finally managed to get a hold of myself and sat back straight. "S-sorry about that. I guess it's hard dealing with those new emotions..."
"I get what you mean, sis. Don't sweat it." She replied with a signature Jason wide grin.
I recoiled in horror. "SIS?!" I screeched, louder than was my intention.
They gave me a quizzical look. "Well, yeah. I know I look a bit different now, but it's me, Jason. You still haven't figured it out?"
I frowned. "I know who you are in there. I just expected you to be Ann."
They (or maybe he) laughed. "Okay, you're still not fully getting it yet, Sheril. It's alright. I'm actually both me AND Ann. We merged."
I winced at the name. His little smug tone was a premiere for me. Or at least my Sean part. It was fairly common for Sheril though, and annoying as hell. I pinched my nose in frustration, in a typical Sean fashion. "I know who you are. Both of you." I said in a low and slow manner. "You are as much Ann as you are Jason, so why are you talking about her in the third person?"
He looked at me with a dumb expression. "I dunno. It just feels more natural. I feel more like Jason than Ann. What's the big deal, sis?"
My face was slowly decomposing. I stood up in disarray. "What do you mean by that? How can you be more one than the other? AND STOP CALLING ME SIS, I'M SEAN!"
It took me a few seconds to register the irony of my comment. And a few more to think about that. I wasn't more Sean than Sheril, not really. I remembered equally growing up as a boy and a girl, their lives, their feelings, their hopes and dreams. But something felt a bit wrong when I thought of myself as Sheril. My Sean personality was too strong maybe? Not really. Sheril was a lot more vocal, usually. No, the difference was a matter of Ego, of confidence, I realized. Sheril had a major lack of self-esteem, now reinforced by the image Sean's mind was reflecting of herself. And while I, Sean, wasn't particularly the most confident individual of all time, it never had been a big problem in my life either. Plus, reciprocally, Sheril's love was boosting my Ego big time, which was kinda sad. She just preferred to see herself as me rather than I preferred to see myself as her, and as long as I believed it like that, I could more or less function.
Jason lifted himself up. The new girl was towering me big time, my eyes ending up at the level of her breasts. Jason had always been taller than me, but not by much. I had been decently tall -much more than Ann at least- and even if their fusion had taken more of his height than her, it made me realize how small I had become. I was only a few inches taller than Sheril was, which didn't mean much.
"If you want me to call you Sean, it's fine with me, si- huh... man." He chuckled. "Sorry, it's a bit hard though, you look so much more... girly," He said and pointed to my bare chest.
I turned red from embarrassment. I had completely forgotten that part. I quickly ran to the lounge chairs to take my Sheril's towel from one of them, rolling it around my torso. My perky breasts kept it tucked neatly.
"Okay, let's start again," I said as I walked back to them. "Can you please concentrate on Ann? I understand it comes easier for you to act like Jason, but I need to talk with my girlfriend right now..."
They winced at that and looked away. "I... I don't think I can do that."
"I'll be Sheril if you want afterward!" I pleaded. "I just need to witness she's still here somehow... That you're still alive, Ann. Please."
I took a step towards them, and they took a step back. They were still avoiding eye contact. I let them think in silence for a few minutes. They were pacing around, looking at their hands.
Finally, they spoke: "She's in here, Sean. Don't worry about that..."
"Then talk to me! As Ann! I know it's possible, I'm in the same situation as you, remember?" Even if it wasn't natural to think of myself as Sheril, she was still me. I knew I could summon her personality if necessary, like standing on one leg rather than the other. But right now, I was too focused on my bond with the love of my life, a powerful feeling that Sheril had never felt until now.
"I just can't do that right now. I need to stay Jason."
"Give me at least an explanation!" Bits of Sheril's stubbornness were leaking into my mind.
They sighed. "She's not feeling right, okay? It would hurt too much..." Their voice sounded tighter and tighter. I could see it, she was struggling not to come out, shielding herself behind Jason's big personality. But Jason had probably never felt that either, he must have been lost to this strange new pain.
I very slowly took a step forward, as if I was trying not to scare a frightened animal. "Baby," I said in the calmest voice I could mutter. "I know I look very different right now, but it's me. I'm here, okay? We're still together-"
She pushed me away with her two giant arms. The strength and speed were enough to throw me away on several feet. I wouldn't have been able to stay standing if not for the wall behind me.
"WE'RE NOT TOGETHER!" she cried in a much more feminine voice than it had been. Tears started rolling from her eyes. "It's over, don't you get it? It was our only chance and we blew it. We were supposed to be together forever, it was our destiny, our dream and now it's gooone..."
She wailed like I had never heard her wail, and certainly not Jason. My eyes were feeling up again at the sight. I knew her feelings, and I wanted to curse the world too, but I was also so relieved to hear her back. Ann, my only true love, was still here at my side, behind it all.
I hugged her again, this time trying to comfort her. She was so tall it didn't feel right, but she took me in and bent down to put her wet face on my shoulder. I stood there, caressing her back and letting her take it all out.
After a moment, I led her to a lounging chair so we could sit next to one another. "Do you remember the last time you felt sad like that? I guess it was when Jumbo died. We did a Viking funeral..." I said in a weak voice.
She gave me a weak smile. "You made the tiny boat yourself. It was very sweet of you to take so much time for my stupid frog."
"Jumbo was not stupid, he was just special! And I couldn't let you flush him in the toilet." I snarled.
She chuckled, still sniffing. Taking a trip down memory lane wasn't without reasons. I wanted her to focus on herself, on us, and help her understand that the small girl in front of her was still her boyfriend. It seemed to work as intended because she looked me in the eyes with a sad smile. Her deep dark eyes, reddened by the tears, were still hers.
"If I look closely, I can still see you in there..." she said meekly. It made me realize I hadn't seen my face yet.
"I am. Still here. Still by your side." I answered.
She looked back at her feet, biting her lips. "Except you're my sister now..."
It fell on me like a brick, waking back my Sheril part. Even if Jason was hard to discern under this girl's traits, I knew it was really my brother I was looking at. I was in love with him, indirectly, and the idea was quite nauseating. I kept silent for a moment, wondering. Was Sean's love strong enough to make me do something so revulsing like incest? I just have to forget about Jason. He's not relevant anymore, I thought. As much as I knew how immoral it was, I wanted to hold on to this love. I wanted to forget myself in it.
I looked back at her, and with the most quiet voice, I uttered: "I don't... care."
Her eyes widened back at me in surprise. Apparently, she was going through the same fight. But I knew her. I knew our mutual feelings could win any challenges. Slowly, like she was about to touch a flame with her bare hands, she approached her face to mine. We were both red like the day of our first kiss. As I could feel her hot breath hitting my nostrils, I closed my eyes and ended the gap myself.
Our lips met with intensity. Her tongue was first to enter my mouth, taking the entire space. She wasn't kissing like we used to at all, but I didn't care: at this moment, I was like a maiden experiencing her first kiss ever. Our size difference made it natural for me to assume a new, more supporting role. We kissed passionately for an unknown amount of time, completely lost in bliss.
As we finally broke it, we knew our love was indestructible. It had survived the biggest challenge we had ever met, and we smiled at each other, truly happy.
"I would have missed that." She finally said. "If we had fused together I mean. We wouldn't be able to make out, I guess."
As we cuddled, my eyes met with her crotch. I gulped when I caught on the suspicious bulge it sported. "Huuh... D-do you have..." I started saying, not daring to finish my sentence.
"A dick? Yeah, I still have one. Or have one now, I guess. You don't?"
I shook my head, taken aback by their bluntness.
"Weird. I wonder what are the rules about that... Maybe I was just packing more than you." They said with a grin.
The fact Jason's personality reappeared while we were still cuddling made me wince. I broke the hug. "Of course talking about that would make you Jason again..."
They laughed. "Don't worry, I'm still Ann too. I think I'm slowly finding a balance between them both."
My curiosity for male genitals coming exclusively from Sheril, it was also canceled by the reminder it was Jason's pickle between their legs. I made a disgusted face when he tried to cuddle back.
"Oh, I see Sheril is here." He mocked.
I pulled out my tongue, either sarcastically or instinctively, I couldn't say. He guffawed and stood up, stretching their chiseled body.
"Maybe we should go inside now that we're feeling better. I'm curious to know more about the global situation."
I followed at their side as we walked back. "By the way, isn't it too quiet around here? You would expect chaos, people screaming... Are we the only ones merged?"
"Naaah, we all had the dream," they said with leisure. "It's a very calm residential neighborhood. The few old couples around must be lost sorting all their memories, but I'm sure it's a lot more chaotic downtown."
That made sense, but I still had lots of questions in my mind. What about people driving? Or in planes? It must have caused accidents all over. What about people with no opposite gender nearby?
"What about Mom and Dad?" I decided to ask.
"Which ones?"
"The ones we share, dummy," I answered back, very Sheril-like.
"I'm your boyfriend now, you shouldn't call me like that." They joked.
I winced at the insinuation. "Girlfriend. As Ann." I snarled.
"Sure, but I'm still the one with a cock here..." She answered, pinching my bubbly butt with one hand.
"Yeek!" I screamed with a jump and they laughed loudly. I slapped the hand with a mean gaze. The cocky attitude coming from Jason was very new in a flirt setting and I was scared to find out how this relationship was going to play out. Each time Jason's personality was acting out, my Sheril instincts were brought back too, which was slowly setting up a weird chasing game between us and the immoral aspect of our bond.
***
The Shower
We walked past the sliding doors inside the cool interior. Our house. I chuckled at the fact I was now officially living with my girlfriend. I guess we had two addresses now, but this house was a lot nicer than Sean's old one. My parents might not like it, though..., I wondered. Come to think of it, I should try and contact them as soon as possible.
"Well, first thing I wanna do is see my face," I said out loud.
"Oh yeah, same. I tried to see my reflection in the pool but I couldn't catch much."
A wide mirror was hanging in the hall near the stairs. I held my breath and I stood in front of it.
It was one thing to not recognize the body you're in, it was another level to see a new face in the mirror. And what a face. I was hella cute. Sheril's pretty face had blossomed under some of Sean's more mature traits. My eyes were still blue, but instead of big round balls, they had taken Sean's almond shape. The whole face was more vixen while keeping some of Sheril's original innocence. My hair was jet black had kept the pigtails, reminding me of some Asian cosplayers. I looked a lot closer to my actual age. Who would have thought that merging with a guy would have made me so feminine?
"Woow. I look a lot more like Ann than Jason, heh? No wonder you were expecting me to act like her at first." My partner said as they made all kinds of weird faces.
"Well, I certainly don't look like Sean," I added.
"You do in some ways. At least you don't look as much like Sheril as I do Ann. That's a relief."
"I bet..."
They looked at me through the mirror. "For Ann, the simple fact that Sean is inside is enough, but for Jason, I have to try and trick my mind into thinking you're just an unknown gorgeous girl who happened to share some similarity with my sister."
I blushed at the compliment. Being called gorgeous was raising some of Sheril's ego. I took off the ribbons from my hair, letting it flow on the back of my neck. "Does that help?" I asked.
"Thank god, yes." They sighed and bent down for a kiss.
I reciprocated, but more timidly, not able to shake the feeling I was kissing Jason this time. As we broke, I cleared my voice. "I really need a shower, my skin is still sticky from the solar cream..."
"Oh, okay." They said, sounding a bit disappointed.
I gave them a peck on the cheek as an apology. "I'll be back soon, I just need to freshen up."
I entered the spacious bathroom on the second floor. It was interesting to compare the quality of life of my two families. Sheril had never realized how good she had it before. Spoiled brat, I scowled myself.
I finally had the chance to put off my mixed swimwear. Looking at myself again in the mirror, unclad with my dark mane untied, a strong feeling of vanity and pride enveloped me. I gave a cocky smile at my reflection. I was fully female and had no explanation for that. My biggest wonder was my new perky breasts that I had estimated to be a C cup. Far from Sasha's utters, but still a very big improvement on my previous sizes. Where could they come from?
I took a deeper examination at my crotch. I could feel a mourning coming from Sean's loss of his manhood. As my Sheril part was more accustomed to the female anatomy, it was taking the lead in this investigation. I looked back at my reflection's gaze while running my fingers around my slit. How strange, I thought, to be aroused by my reflection. The taste for girls was new to me as Sheril, and it wasn't unpleasant. I bit my lips as I pushed a finger inside, it was already wet. My own muffled moan was raising the flow even more.
Not wanting to be caught by my brother, I turned on the shower, to better resume my exploration behind the sound of falling water. The wide shower was also equipped with a mirror on one side, so I could still peek at myself. Taking advantage of my Sheril mind under the wheel, I decided to partake in a little fantasy. I started imagining Sean going down on my new self.
"Sean... keep going..." It was a weird revelation for Sean, who was now also experimenting self-arousal, by his old male self. As cringed as he was deep inside of me, I for once felt even more pleasure. My love for him was drowning him, forcing him to watch in disarray.
"We are one now, Sean. You're inside me. I'm inside you... We're *moan* together forever."
I was slowly speeding up the pace, feeling a climax already climbing its way. "Sean! I love you, Sean! I'm closer to you than Ann would ever be!"
Here it was, my first orgasm in my new home. "You're mine! You're mine! You're miiiiine!" I screamed at my reflection, as the powerful wave of pleasure engulfed me.
Catching my breath, I chuckled: "Who's the brat now, huh?"
*knock, knock, knock*
"Sean? Is everything okay? I heard you scream."
The call of my other half's name was enough to flip me back. Shame quickly replaced my earlier demeanor. I felt like I had cheated Ann with myself.
Not hearing a response, she opened the unlocked door. Shit.
"I... knocked a toe in the corner!" I improvised weakly.
The sliding doors were filled with steam, so I couldn't see her. I only heard the sound of rubbing clothes. A few seconds later, the doors opened.
"I thought it would be quicker if we shared a shower," she said. "Or it might take longer if we knocked another toe."
She smiled mischievously. My eyes went instinctively to the odd member attached to her otherwise feminine body. Neither Sheril nor Sean could attest to its resemblance to Jason's old one, but it was certainly sizeable. Its length was not what made me stare longer than I should have: the lack of visible testicles was my first surprise. The skin around it was also making some kind of fold.
"Yeah I know, it doesn't look exactly like your classic male anatomy." They chuckled.
It seemed to work fine though, as the already half-erected penis rose slowly to a full stand. I became crimson and looked away, my stare certainly responsible for the change of elevation.
They closed the distance, gently lifting my chin with their fingers, and kissed me once more. Never had Ann been so assertive before. Jason's personality had completely changed our dynamic. I was now the submissive one. I didn't know what to think of it yet, still figuring out where this relationship was going. The hard hot rod poking at my belly made me flinch back.
"I-I don't know if I'm ready for that yet..." I said, a bit guilty for my earlier session.
"If not for the full act... would you mind helping me with that thing? You know... with your... mouth?" She muttered. The shyness at the request made it typically Ann. She always had a coy demeanor when she felt kinky, which was quite often.
"You want me to give you a blowjob?!" I gulped. For some reason, I had even more apprehension for oral than actual regular sex.
She went on the defensive: "Oh come on! I've done it all the time for you, what's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that I've never done it, for once..." I answered.
"Not even Sheril?" She asked.
I shook my head. Sheril was a virgin, actually. I had a few boyfriends, but never went farther than kissing.
"Well, I won't force you, of course." She said reassuringly, clearly fighting against her male urge. "Let me take care of it myself."
I sighed. If I wanted to continue my relationship with Ann fully, I'd have to do it sooner or later. "No, it's okay. I'll try."
"You're sure? I don't want you to feel obliged..." She said with utmost seriousness.
I smile at her caution and nod. "I guess part of me is kinda curious."
"Don't tell me which part, please." She said, wincing a bit.
Right... I was about to commit incest. Jason was probably trying his best to forget I was also his sister. I crouched awkwardly, not wanting to hurt my knees on the tiling. The pulsing dick was a few inches from my face. Closing my eyes, I tried to make the mixing between my two personalities. Putting Sheril away while keeping her interest in the male appendage was difficult, but I was slowly coming to it. I'm a girl, a heterosexual girl who's about to give a blowjob to my lover, Ann…
I put my lips on the tip. The smell wasn't as potent as I thought, even enjoyable. Then I took a grip at the base of the shaft with one of my dainty hands, the other one holding her firm leg to keep balance.
"Oh boy..." said my partner, holding onto the wall with anticipation.
Slowly, I pushed the head to my mouth, parting my lips. As it went in, I realized the girth was a lot harder to fit in than I expected. I had to almost dislocate my jaw like I was trying to take a bite of a giant burger.
"T-try not to put your teeth on it..." complained Ann.
"Hmm mmHmm!" I replied.
"What?"
"I'm trying," I repeated after putting it out. "You're just too big."
She laughed, a bit embarrassed. "Never had that problem with you..."
I gave her a dark look. "Shut up if you want me to resume."
"Yes ma'am."
I put myself back in character. That time, I curled my lips around my teeth so as to limit their contact with the shaft. I then started giving it a back-and-forth motion. It wasn't a very practical experience, but looking up, I saw my partner looking at me in fascination. It was an odd angle, her face shielding me from the water pouring around, her wet short hair leaking thin flows on my head. Her chest was covering part of her chin and in her eyes shined a lust I never saw in her.
The blow was not very pleasurable in itself from my perspective, but her desire for me was enough to stir my own arousal. I felt happy to give, I felt sexy and I felt love. I started putting more sensuality in my work and kept eye contact. I broke the pace with licks and kisses in between strokes. Her only reaction was small grunts, enough to comfort me that I was doing something good.
Playing a lot on my feminine charms was somewhat dangerous as I was close to waking too much of Sheril's mind. I'm sucking my brother's cock! was the last thing I wanted to think about, but if I went too much on the other side, Sean would be noticing he had another guy's cock in his mouth. It was a true rope-dancer act, but as long as I kept my poise, the experience was outstanding. My hand wanted nothing more than play with my clit, but I couldn't risk it in my shaky stance.
The frustration sped up my back and forth, and without warning, her pulsing dick spurted hot semen into my mouth. Through pure motion reflex, I swallowed the bitter and slimy liquid, only to fall down and gag into the faucet. I spat what was left in my mouth, cleaning it with hot water, but what had been gulped stayed inside.
"Didn't you teach me to warn you when I was about to cum?" I snarled, the unpleasant taste still lingering in my mouth.
"S-sorry... I guess I was too focused on the feeling..." she answered not so apologetically.
I finally stood back up. Looking back in the mirror, I was slowly catching on to what I had just done. I sucked a dick. I sucked a dick as a girl and swallowed. My mind was fully back to Sean, which made me feel extremely ashamed as if a new level of my masculinity had been ripped from me. Is there still some left in me?
"God, that was... so intense. Even as Jason, I don't remember experiencing a head like that. Are you sure it was your first time?" They said, a bit too genuinely.
Well, now it's definitely gone... My face was already too red from the act to show any more of my shame. I gave my reflection a knowing smile. That being said, I'd also have loved a blow from that girl. Too bad she's me.
At last, I could have an actual wash.
"I don't know if any of my clothes will fit me," I said as we got out.
"Eventually we'll have to go shopping, but for now you can steal something from Mom's closet. I'm sure she won't mind." Jason answered as he played a bit with his breasts in the mirror. Yep, that's him in there right now. Probably all that male lusting summoning him back.
"Why do you say that?"
"I had a quick call from them while you were busy knocking your toe." He grinned.
I coughed to hide my embarrassment. I was relieved by the news. "Oh, they're alright? Who did they-"
"They merged together, as they wanted." He cut me, predicting my following question. "They're still at Auntie's house. She merged with one of her neighbor's sons, apparently. It's a bit of a mess out there, so they told me they won't be home tonight."
"What the plan for us, now?" I asked as I finished tying up a towel around my hair.
"Let's take the time to get news from our other families and friends for now. We'll decide what to do when we know more." They answered, pragmatically.
***
Phone Calls
As suggested by Jason, I looked into our mother, Elisa's closet. Her wardrobe was neither to any of my identities' tastes, but she fitted my new build fairly well. I was very sad at the fact none of my cutesy dresses would ever fit me now, at least half of me was. The other had not much to add in the matter of women's clothing except that Sheril's "cutesy clothes" were childish and it was past time for her to upgrade her style.
I skimmed out for something that wasn't screaming "old woman's outfit". The best I ended up finding was a yellow and blue floral dress that was SO old-fashioned that it was coming back to style. Her underwear options were a tad too small but worked fine for now. I added white tights to complete the look.
Walking back to the bathroom, I brushed my new silky hair and decided to style it in two low-braided pigtails, ending them with my precious ribbons. Maybe not the most mature hairstyle, but there was progress, and it just fitted the dress perfectly. Very Cottagecore. I'm so cute like this! I thought, smiling happily at my vintage look. I was ready to shoot an episode of Little House on the Prairie. Without thinking, I finished up by putting on some makeup: rosing my cheeks and enhancing my new eyes.
When some of my Sean's mind reappeared, I felt like I'd been bamboozled by myself. I'm doomed to be a girly girl now, am I? Well, I have to admit it does suit me.
As I went back downstairs, Jason/Ann was sitting on the couch, looking at their phone.
"That's what you're wearing, huh." I said not without contempt at their choice of outfit. They went for some of Jason's clothes, which were of course very loose on their new frame. The tank top they chose, which was probably the tightest Jason owned, was so wide it showed a big deal of their braless cleavage, while the elastic shorts, maintained to their waist by a makeshift belt out of some rope, were looking almost like a two-legged skirt.
They raised an eye to me at my comment. I proudly gave them a little swirl, posing. "Not too shabby, huh?"
After a few seconds of silence, they guffawed loudly. I made a pout to their reaction, hands on my hips.
"What."
"Oh nothing, nothing." they managed to catch their breath. "I guess you're back to Sheril, is all. I might have forgotten she was in there."
"Yeah, well, she's half of me, yes." I retorted "You know, I was hoping being with Ann would make you less of a jerk, Jason. Guess I was wrong."
"Oh come on, sis. Don't be upset. It's not a bad look, it's just really... you, I guess."
"Not more than your choice is really you, bro. You know you're not a guy anymore, huh? What's up with your outfit?" I interjected.
He shrugged. "Ann's slim jeans don't fit me anymore, as you might expect. I don't have much choice for now."
"Well, I hope it won't be your new style from now on..." I sulked as I sat in the armchair on the other side. I was too Sheril and he was too Jason to cuddle right now.
I reached for Sean's phone which had been sitting on the coffee table until now. There was a few missed calls from Mom's number. "Shit."
"What's up?" They asked.
"My mom. She's been trying to reach me. I should have done that sooner." I said, worried.
"You're right, I haven't tried to contact my other family either yet. Let's take care of that now." They looked for Ann's phone in her bag and went outside so we could each have some space.
I first tried to unlock my phone with my fingerprint, which of course didn't work. Thankfully, I still remembered my password. It took a pretty long time for the phone to pick up.
"Yes, who's this?" said a mysterious croaky voice. It didn't sound like my mother at all.
"Huh, Hi? I'm looking for Sandra. Sandra Wang?" I asked.
"Listen, girl. I'm having a hard time here, like everybody else, and I don't have much time. Can you start by introducing yourself?"
I was quite baffled by the unfamiliarity of the tone. Of course, I was expecting my parents to be merged, but the rude voice was completely unknown.
"I'm Sean, her son. Is my mother here? Is everything alright?" I started worrying.
It took them a few seconds to answer: "Oh, Sean! It's good to finally hear from you. Sorry, I didn't notice your name on the phone."
"Huh, Mom? Is that you?" I asked, still unsure.
"Well, yeah in part. That's my number, what did you expect?" She answered dryly. Her pitch, while still feminine, was very coarse, like a long-life smoker. It didn't make sense for a fusion of both my parents.
"Who are you with?" I asked the next logical question.
"Richard." I had no idea who that was. "Richard Dickinson? My coach from the swimming club. I guess I wasn't talking to you about it much, huh."
That was troubling, but it made sense. At this time of the day, my father might have still been at work.
"And what about Dad? Do you have news from him?"
"No." She said icily.
"Aren't you worried?" I asked, a bit surprised by the apparent indifference.
"Listen, kid. I have bigger fish to fry here. I tried to call the guy a few times already. I have a wife to take care of. The situation is enough of a mess as it is."
I was shocked by the tone. My mother had always been a polite and caring woman. Clearly, the other mind was leading at the moment.
"Can I actually talk to my mother, Richard?" I raised my voice.
I wasn't used to talking so boldly to one of my parents, but the tone they used on me since the beginning of the call was making it difficult for me to treat them as such. It seemed to be effective, as the silence following was telling.
"Ugh, alright. Sorry, Sean. I'm sure you know how it feels to share a mind with someone. It's easy to get lost. But I'm still here, sweetie." She said. The tone had changed drastically.
"Yeah, I understand," I answered, relieved.
"Did you merge with your girlfriend? Are you at her house?" She asked, a lot more concerned.
"No, I'm at the Sanders. I ended up with Jason's little sister..." I replied, a bit ashamed for some reason.
"Oh, I see. Sorry it didn't go like you wanted. At least you're in a nice home. Listen, it's probably better if you stay with them, at least for the time being. I have many things to get straight in Richard's life, and with your dad not answering my calls..."
"I'll try to call him. I'm sure he's alright." I said, trying to comfort her.
"I don't know much about the Sanders’ daughter, but she seemed to have a good effect on you, you sound more mature!" She teased. The irony made me chuckle with embarrassment. "Anyway, I really need to get going. I'll explain things to you later. Let's keep in touch, okay?"
"Sure, Mom. Good luck."
"I love you, son. No matter what, I'm still your mom."
I couldn't refrain my eyes from watering as I hung up. The reality of my family life being completely in shambles hit me like a rock. At the same time, I was relieved to hear she could still be herself. I took a few minutes to calm down. I could see Ann outside through the sliding doors, walking in a circle as she talked on the phone. What a fucking mess we're in…
I tried to call my dad, no dice. I tried to rationalize the fact he was probably still figuring things out. After all, it had taken me all this time to think about reaching out to them. But I couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened. At this hour, he could have been driving home when it hit him, pulling him in some kind of traffic accident... Did people have to touch each other for it to start? I didn't think about asking my mom how it happened to her, that would have been an obvious question…
I decided to search on the internet for information. Most news outlets were still bare of any news. I imagined most companies weren't in any state of running properly. The internet was still working at least, that was good. On social media, there were plenty of posts. Mostly it was people showing off their new appearance to the world: "Wow, I'm so freaking cute!", "My boyfriend and I merged. Look at the result, OMG I can't.", "So guys, smash or pass?", etc.
As I continued scrolling through the posts, I realized something interesting. The resulting appearances went from androgynous women to very feminine ones. There were no boys in sight, at least not apparent ones. Probably some of them had male genitalia (some seemed to confirm that), but no real masculine bodies anywhere.
Chewing this thought, I suddenly received an incoming call. I didn't know the number, but I answered anyway.
"Huh, hello?"
"H-hi. I'm trying to contact Sean?" the voice answered. It sounded very sultry and feminine.
"I'm Sean. Who is it?"
"Oh, thank god. I wasn't sure I remembered your number. It's me, dad." The woman said.
A wave of relief washed me. "Dad! I was worried. I tried to call you..."
"I'm so sorry, Sean! I lost my phone in the panic... It's a long story. Memories took some time to settle. Where are you? Are you alright? Did you merge with Ann?" His voice sounded quavering, he was visibly stressed out.
"I'm not with Ann no... I merged with Sheril. She's Jason's sister. We were at their house when it happened." I explained.
"Oh, okay! I guess you must be sad not to be with Ann, but that's still a good place to end up."
"What do you mean?" I asked, perplexed by his reaction.
"Well, the Sanders are quite the wealthy family. Now that you're their daughter, I guess it means you're inheriting it."
I was dumbfounded. He was right, sure, but the pragmatic calculation sounded very out of place in such circumstances. The Sheril in me couldn't help but find it offensive, like some kind of arranged marriage for money. Still, I let it slide, not wanting to start an argument.
"Sure, I guess. Who did you merge with, Dad? Mom tried to join you too, you know."
"Oh, huh. Just an unknown woman, I don't know." He said like he was trying to avoid the subject.
"You don't know? Wait, you don't have her memories?" I tried to clarify.
"Oh, yes. Yes, I do. I meant I didn't know her before. I've seen her before, actually. She works at the company, but only from far away..." His speech was messy. I guessed it was his new "mindmate" personality altering his usual calmer demeanor.
"Okay. How did you two merge? Were you still in the office?" I asked, this time curious to know more about how it happened for people not in direct contact. A weird silence followed my question. "Dad?"
"Yes, I'm here, sorry. We were leaving the building at the same time. It happened in the parking lot. That's how I lost my phone and..." He started to explain.
My mind drifted away when I saw Ann walk inside. She passed the living room, gave me a quick glance with a stoic expression, and went upstairs. I could easily tell something was up.
"Anyway, Dad," I interrupted his incoherent rumbling." I need to go. You should call Mom as soon as possible. She was very worried about you."
"Oh, okay Sean. Actually, I have a lot to take care of here, myself. Can you text your mom for me? I'll call her soon, I promise but... it's complicated. Stay safe at the Saunders, I'm sure you'll be fine there for now." He wrapped up the conversation.
"Hm, sure. Keep me updated, okay? Bye, Dad." I terminated the call.
I couldn't help feeling spite at the way my parents could so quickly hand me over to another family. Was our bond so brittle? At least I knew I had a solid home here now. Mom and Dad would never get rid of me like that... The other ones, I mean.
I walked back upstairs and knocked on Jason's bedroom door. I entered to find Ann sitting on the bed, looking at her feet. "Is everything alright?" I asked with concern.
"I guess... Everybody's safe." She answered, still looking down.
I sat next to her. "What's up?"
She sighed. "It's Mia. She... she merged with Dad."
Mia was Ann's little sister. She was only 10, and Ann had always been very protective of her. I didn't get the full picture of what it meant right away.
"I can imagine being merged with a parent is not ideal..." I risked.
She looked at me with a serious gaze. "It's not just that, Sean. She's only 10 while Dad is 46." Her voice was heavy, trying to contain her sob, and failing. "Now they're apparently looking like a woman in her late twenties. It's so unfair, she skipped her whole youth!"
I took her on the shoulder, patting her back. I didn't know what to say to make her feel better. "H-how did she sound like? Sadden?"
"No, that's the worst part... My dad said he couldn't manage to let her out. He can't stop being in the lead. We... we think he has so much more life experience, he's completely overshadowing her, or something." She said out between her weeping.
As I let her tears soak my dress, I looked out the window. The sun was slowly approaching the horizon.
"You know how old we are right now?" I said after a while. She only sniffed in reply. "We're all really, what? 3 hours old, right now? 4, top."
She raised her head, looking at me with confused red eyes.
"It's only been a few hours since we woke up to our new lives. I know it's hard to believe with everything that happened, but that's the truth." I explained to her. "Don't you think it's a bit early to set things in stone? Your sister might take a longer time to come back to the surface than we did but don't give up on her so quickly. I bet if we put them in front of a My Little Pony episode, your dad won't stand a chance."
She chuckled a bit at my joke and dried her face with her tank top. "Thank you. You might be right actually."
"Of course I am! This all Merge-thing is fucking crazy. We don't know anything about how it works and we can't say how it'll play out tomorrow. I say let's wait a bit before drawing any conclusions, okay?" I reassured her.
She nodded, smiling faintly.
"You should probably go back to them tonight," I said, hiding my pain at the idea.
She, thankfully, shook her head. "It won't be necessary. Mom is with them, she merged with a random guy when she was grocery shopping. Apparently, he doesn't have much of a family of his own. She said it's probably safer not to go out until things settled in, anyway... What about your family?"
I recounted how my calls went.
"Well... you said it best: let's wait before drawing any conclusions. In any case, that settles the fact we shouldn't split. We have responsibilities here too, after all." She noted, before kissing me gently.
I was relieved to hear her say that. Not only was she also my brother, but Ann was above all my only anchor to my Sean life at this point.
***
Evening
"I'm tired of all those emotions. Since we woke up, it has been worry after worry." She said as she stood up. "And I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
I hadn't noticed until now, but the mention of food was enough to give me stomach cramps. On that note, we went to the kitchen. I first tried calling pizzerias, but as expected: everything was closed. It made me wonder how society was going to organize itself now that the world population had been reduced by half. Some structures had already been thought of: we knew our government would soon distribute new identity cards displaying our two old selves. Most accommodations were still unclear though, as too little time separated us from the day of the Dream.
Thankfully the fridge was pretty much full, and Ann was an amazing cook. She surprised me with sautéed bell peppers, something she never did before because of my loathing for the vegetable. She knew from Jason's memories that Sheril, however, loved it. It was quite a weird experience to have half of my brain horrified by something I found so tasty. I ended up winning this fight against Sean and taught him all about the sweetness and crunchiness of bell peppers.
"You're such a great upgrade on my brother, Ann," I said between mouthfuls.
I laughed, their face indicating they didn't seem to know how to react to both a compliment and a jibe.
When the night finally came, we decided to go to bed early, as we were both feeling emotionally drained. Feeling awkward at the idea of sleeping together in either Sheril or Jason's beds, we settled on stealing the master bedroom, taking advantage of tonight's lack of parents.
Our nightly cuddles soon transformed into a make-out session. I blushed, feeling Ann's infamous new member hard against my soft leg. Looking into each others' eyes, we silently agreed to succumb to our curiosity. We both knew what it induced, and how wrong it would be to partake in it without the proper protection, but we both pretended to forget about it. After all, we were used to raw sex in our former bodies… She slowly took down my panties. My heart was pumping like crazy, and it didn't take long for my inside to produce the now-familiar wetness.
Ann was deep inside me. Completely absorbed into the female experience, I had managed to keep Sheril at bay thanks to her lack of sexual experience. Having a dick thrusting into our womb was as new for her as it was for me, and the mostly Ann face that was grunting and gazing into me right now was holding the balance in my favor. With so little of my female self to guide me though, the feeling of the receiving end was truly alien. The sheer discovery of my depth was blowing my mind. I couldn't help myself from moaning anymore, and showing such a feminine side to Ann was embarrassing me greatly. The shame itself also seemed to nourish some kind of twisted arousal. Did I always have a fetish like that? It didn't seem right.
"I'm inside you... Oh boy, I'm inside you..." Ann was whimpering between each push, apparently playing some newly discovered kink of her own. Ann who, before the merge, had always been so passive and shy during our sexual intercourses. But now, she was in the lead and I was wondering what was going through her head. She was living a similar shift in our dynamic after all… well the exact opposite really.
Her movement was increasing, and my moans were more and more audible.
In the middle of it all, Ann's lips let out a terrible truth: "Oh god! I'm really fucking my little sister..."
"What?! What did you... say??" My mind shattered at the statement.
My reaction didn't stop them. "I-I'm so sorry, Sheril. I'm sorry!"
Hearing my other name was flipping me back. I panicked. "Stop it! Stop saying that, you idiot!"
"Oh god! I'm doing it! I'm inside you, sis! We're having sex!" Like me earlier, the shame seemed only to fuel them more. He pushed with added vigor.
"Jason, no! Shut up! You're ruining it!" I whined, but it was too late. I was now fully myself again. Sean couldn't shield me from the truth anymore. I was having my first time, and despite his feminine traits, I could only see my brother's face above mine.
Despite my tremendous disgust, my body was not fighting it. It wanted more, and I was powerless to stop it.
"You're so sexy, Sheril! You're so cute! I can't stop myself!" He yelled, possessed by pure lust for his own sister. Since when did my brother have such awful thoughts? I wanted Ann back! I wanted to be Sean again! But despite my best efforts, I couldn't.
"I'm close, sis. Your freaky brother is gonna cum inside you!" He howled.
"Get out, you moron! At least don't cum inside me!" But instinctively, my legs and arms locked on him, betraying my reason. I moaned and cried at the same time, feeling my climax building up at the same time as his.
We reached it in unison.
"I love you, Sheril!" He screamed when the defilement spread inside of me. I was too absorbed in my own spike to register it, though. My mind was melting in pleasure. Sweet oblivion, take me. I wanted to stay in this state forever.
He collapsed on my side, spent. I stayed frozen in place as hot cum was dripping from my pussy. Slowly, I dug a little hole in the corner of my mind, refusing to face reality at this point.
"Ann? Are you there?" I asked quietly as I was forced into myself again.
"Yeah..." She answered in a whisper.
"What... was that?" I asked, truly more surprised than grossed out now.
"Sorry... I think that's my fault." She said. I didn't know what she meant.
"I mean Ann's fault. I think some of my personal kinks mixed into my Jason persona," she explained, visibly ashamed.
"What do you mean?" I said, intrigued.
"I never talked much about it with you but... I kinda have a fetish for sibling relationships. You know, from my private manga stash?" She looked at me with an awkward smile.
"So that's what those are, huh..." I said, finally solving that mystery. "Guess you don't have many secrets left now, do you?"
She only chortled disturbingly. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I think so. I needed to face the truth of our relationship sooner or later... I guess it was just sharper than I wished it to be..." I answered honestly.
She caressed my hand. "Sorry... again."
"Don't be, I know it's hard to control all of this... Fuck, we're really siblings now. This is going to be a challenge." I understood.
"The world is in such chaos right now. I'm sure our situation is far from being the weirdest one." She said.
"And what about... Mom and Dad?" I winced a bit as calling them like that was calling in my other half.
They gulped. "They must never find out, or we're truly fucked."
The Saunders were a pretty traditional family. Not that a lot of parents would accept their kids to fuck each other, anyway.
"It might spice things up, in a way. Doing it behind their back..." I said.
They raised an eyebrow in my direction. "Is someone warming up at this incestuous kink?"
"I wouldn't say that." I snarled. "I just need to play with this new hand of cards if I want to keep our relationship working."
"Good thinking... sis." They smirked.
"Ugh, that will take time to get used to, though..."
***
Epilogue
“Coming!” I shouted at the doorbell as I ran for the door, ecstatic.
The first year had been quite chaotic, but now that school had finally resumed, a semblance of normalcy had returned. The Great Merge Cabinet, also known as GMC, had managed to sort things out with more or less success, but it worked out in the end. For fusions like us who were just students, the protocol was actually quite simple: we all had to choose to resume one of our old curricula. Jason’s old prestigious college approval was only due to his basketball sponsorship, which was a bit flimsy to begin with, so it was logical for them to pursue Ann’s plans. As for me, Sheril had pretty good grades, so I had decided to go back to high school, this time determined to join them for the next year.
I opened the door to a delivery girl holding a package. Finally, it had arrived! I took the box to my room, eager to open it. Inside was a bunch of new clothes I had bought online. With people worldwide in dire need of outfits for their new shapes, finding something had been a trial at first. It took me the last two months to finally have this package. Before that, I had managed to gather a few clothes by trading my old one. Male outfits were harder to get rid of, but some resilient minds were still trying to clutch to their lost manhood. Others more crafty used discarded male clothes to fashion makeshift attires. I myself used some of Sean’s old t-shirts to make not-too-shabby tops. Really, trends were all over the place.
“Haha, there you are!” I said out loud as I found the dress I was looking for. Since none of Sheril’s old clothes were fitting me anymore, I had to give them all away. So I was glad I had found a similar one she had, only a few sizes bigger. I smiled at it with mischief.
I didn’t call myself Sean or Sheril anymore. With time, the frontier between our two old identities had blurred, and we all started to choose new names for ourselves. Ann and Jason had chosen the very creative name of Jane. It fitted them well, though. For my part, I had chosen a more distinctive one: Naomi. It was a name both Sean and Sheril liked a lot, and I cherished each time my two personalities would agree on something.
I didn’t wait long before putting on the light blue dress and modeling in front of my mirror. As Naomi, I was now used to more mature outfits that Sean found sexy on girls: hand-cut denim shorts, blazers, crop tops… urban streetwear styles, generally. But today I wasn’t dressing for Sean.
Since Sean’s mother found out that his dad had fused with his mistress, my other family had basically broken apart. I still saw them regularly, but separately, and I lived exclusively at the Saunders. Jane on the other hand had still a functioning family from their other half and was going back and forth between the two households. Between that and college, we were seeing each other only once every two weekends. It was hard, especially having to deal with our parent alone most of the time, but knowing it was just a matter of a year helped me pull through with it. They were coming home today, and I had missed them so much I wanted to treat them with something special…
Earlier in the day, I had gone to the stylist to dye my hair. As Naomi, I usually kept my hair loose or tied down, but today I was styling them in very familiar pigtails. I took a final look in the mirror. In front of me stood Sheril, wearing her favorite summer dress, her blonde hair tied in her signature style with her favorite ribbons. Thanks to some clever makeup, I had hidden most of Sean’s traits and enhanced hers. What betrayed me the most was my much more voluptuous curves, which I had no intention of hiding anyway.
“I’m home!” I heard a familiar voice call from downstairs. “Naomi? Are you home?”
“Upstairs!” I answered as I quickly climbed on my bed. Waiting for them to arrive, I lay on my stomach, propped on elbows, my feet swinging in the air and facing the doorway innocently.
“Hey babe-” Jane quickly stopped as she saw me. “S-Sheril!?”
I sat back, slowly pulling off a strip from my shoulder. “Hey, Jason. Mommy’s not home yet. Wanna play with your little sister?”
FINNo more chapters.