A Wish the Heart Makes : Fornever in Blue Genes

by: Tigger

 

Chapter 5: Past the Point of No Return

Both men were at Matthew’s bedside when the fairly strong sedative wore off. Unlike old, Twentieth Century drugs, when this compound wore off, it wore off suddenly and completely. Thus, Matthew was completely alert when the beautiful blue eyes flickered open. Alert enough to realize something was not quite normal. Even for what now passed for normal in his life.

"More drugs, Robert?" he asked querulously.

"An emotion block, Matt. I want you calm so we can get through this all at once. Then, once you’ve had time to assimilate what we have to tell you, you can deal with the emotional upheaval gradually as the drug wears off."

"That bad?" Matt asked, wry humor in his new voice.

"You tell me," Bob replied. "You remember why I had to sedate you?"

A slight frown furrowed the porcelain-smooth forehead and then just a quickly cleared. "Adam said that I was stuck like this. That you cannot reverse the transition."

"Adam," Robert said in heavy tones and a stern look to the other man, "should know enough to keep his mouth shut when he isn’t arguing points of law."

"Well, since I am not having a bad case of vapors, you might as well give me the whole story. Why can’t you just undo what you did? You’ve got my GPD record - you told me so. I mean, I’d be ugly again, but . . . "

"Two reasons, Matt," Robert said quietly. "First, your GPD record has been erased from every databank we have. Completely. We don’t know how, especially since those redundant copies were under separate security codes, but right now, I do not have reliable access to the person who was Matthew Eric Sorenson. I have some tissue samples, but those will take time to analyze and map."

Matthew considered that for a moment and sighed. "Okay, file that for the moment. You said there was a second reason I can’t go back to being at least male again."

Robert sagged wearily onto Matt’s hospital bed and laid a hand on his friend’s oddly slender shoulder. "The plain and simple truth is that, so far, not one tissue experiment that successfully completed a viable male to female transition has survived an attempt to reverse the process."

"Not even one success to prove the rule, Bob?" Matthew asked, the block keeping all emotion out of his voice.

"100% non-viable, Matt. At least 150 different tissue cultures, all from different donors," Robert affirmed. "During the live cell testing, every time we tried to reverse a successful and viable male to female transition, the DNA structure itself just decomposed - totally disintegrated. Electron microscopy has shown us that the double helix literally unzipped into single strands. Those strands, no longer having the cross coupling bonds between the single strands to stabilize them, then broke down completely in the presence of the enzymes we used to control and facilitate the process."

"Why?" Matt asked quietly, dimly aware that he’d be having kittens if it wasn’t for the drug coursing through his system.

"Matt, we’ve been working on the problem for several months and basically have no idea."

"What about the computer models based on the GPD? Don’t they help at all?"

"Matt, for all the good they are doing us, we might as well not have them. Look," Bob said seriously, "to this point, our ability to model this transition has been a huge disappointment from both a prediction and an experimental perspective. Okay, here’s the deal. The models predict that male to female transitions have essentially the same survivability as female to male. Hell, the same as any really complex transition without a gender change. If we don’t intervene and fix certain known fatal gene sets, any of those transitions survive in about seventy percent of the model runs."

"And when you intervene and change the gene sets before the main transition?"

"As near 100% viability as makes no difference to anyone but a statistician with severe anal retention problems. However, the laboratory experiments with real human tissue samples give us completely different results. Except in the case of transitions involving no gender change - in those cases the model is dead on."

"But not for gender changers," Matt said quietly.

Bob nodded sadly. "Precisely. Oddly enough, based on our statistical data, the generation of a second "X" chromosome from a male’s "Y" was the riskiest transition of all. Which it shouldn’t be - duplicating an existing chromosome is technically easy. However, if there is any fault on it, you no longer have a spare on the other chromosome to provide viable information. That’s worse than inbreeding between a brother and a sister. Even ‘clipping off’ an X to make a Y still has redundant and corrective data from the second, unchanged X. But," and here Bob’s voice lost its lecture mode and became pensive. "But there is something else at work, too."

"Explain," Matt demanded intensely.

Bob grinned, recognizing the tone of command. "Basically, on average, only 25 percent of the male to female tests survived. The female to male transitions were better, but still not consistent with the model. However, the key issue for you, my friend, is that so far, we have been completely unable to reverse a successful male to female transition. Female to male reversibility is about the same as initial male to female survivability."

"And we have no idea why?" Matt could hardly believe his beloved computers were so impotent - particularly when he needed them so much.

"None, Matt. The bottom line is that we simply have no idea what is wrong with our models."

"Oh my god . . . " Matt whispered softly. "All this, and now I am stuck forever in this defective body."

"I *beg* your pardon," Robert snapped. "Defective body? Like Hell, girl! There is NOTHING defective about that body, Matt!"

"This body, Bob, it seems . . . clumsy. I felt like I was constantly losing my balance with every step. Hell, the nurse had to help make it to the loo and back without falling flat on my face."

To Matt’s embarrassment and disgust, Robert chuckled heartily. "That body is just fine, thank you very much for your total lack of confidence in my skills. Your new body is nearly perfect, in fact. I am afraid that the problems you experienced moving about in the bath were the result of operator error."

Robert laughed again at the puzzlement etched on Matt’s face and then continued. "We accomplished every goal we set down in our original plan, even working under the extremely tight time constraints you inflicted on us. Everything worked perfectly. At the genetic level, every known genetic defect has been corrected. At the same time, just about every measurable parameter of your physical being has been enhanced."

"Enhanced? How?" Matt challenged.

"You will find," Robert reassured his longtime friend gently, "that once you have figured out how to move in your new skin, you will have nearly perfect balance. Your muscles will strengthen easily and dramatically. Your senses are acute in the extreme. Your quickness and reflexes should be off the scale when assessed using the standard tests. Even your memory and thinking processes should be clearer. Essentially, we have run a non-linear optimization program on the elements of the GPD, constrained only by the factors you put in your wish-file, and the result of that computation is the "you" that you see in the mirror."

"But if that is the case, why was I so . . . off balance?"

"Because, as you yourself just said - you think the same as you did when you were male. In this case, your mind still "remembers" how to operate your old body. Your muscle *memory* doesn’t account for *mammary* glands, a proportionately wider pelvis or any of your other feminine attributes."

Matt groaned as expected at the awful play on memory and mammary, which made Bob-the-punster happy. "We still have tests to run, of course, and we will need to keep track of your progress as you begin to train yourself to use your new body, but just about every part of you is as good as we could make it." His brow furrowed as something occurred to him. "Everything," he said slowly as if considering the word.

The silence that followed that last comment stretched out, becoming almost ominous. "Okay, Bob, I know when you are trying to avoid something. Out with whatever it is. I need to know the bad with the good."

He nodded, but instead of saying anything, he turned to Nurse Teri. "Nurse, what is the condition of the patient’s blocks at this very moment?"

Teri’s hands made some fluid movement over the panel. She frowned momentarily as she looked at her displays and then turned to Bob. "At prescribed levels, Doctor. Wrist units are operating normally."

He nodded. "Very well. Be prepared, Nurse." He awaited her acknowledgment of that order, and then turned back to face his patient. Whatever he had to say, he was being very cautious. He coughed before forcing himself to speak. "Yes, umm, well. Try to deal with this as an objective, outside observer would. Think like Matthew the career engineer and scientist for a moment and try to see what I am about to describe purely in the abstract."

This was going to be really bad, Matt thought.

"Well, Matthew, you need to understand, that your body is going to respond, and take your mind right along with it. You’re going to find yourself getting aroused. Highly aroused. I have a lot of confidence in your self-control, but I’m even more confident that you are NOT going to be a nun. Not in that body with its physical sensitivity and neural responsiveness."

The full impact of this hit her and for the first time, it was *her* responding. Matthew’s face flushed bright red as remembered sensations slid across her new body. Heavens, she’d already had a tiny taste of the arousal that this body could feel, and that had only been the result of seeing herself and Nurse Teri. "You mean you’ve turned me into some sort of over-sexed slut fantasy? Whose idea was that? Yours? I thought you were my friend! I’ll show you! I might not become a nun, but I’ll for damn sure control my own goddamn body! I’ll . . . "

Matt lurched to her feet as the world seemed to close in about her - she needed to escape, she needed to . . .

"Doctor!" Teri’s voice crackled from across the room. "Anxiety indicator levels spiking, engaging restraints."

The bands at her wrists came alive, snapping to her waist where they mated with the belt. The bands on her legs and ankles similarly snapped together. Panicking now, she fought against the bonds, almost tipping herself off the chair in the process. Adam and Robert were at her side immediately, catching her and helping her back into her seat. The increasingly familiar hiss of a hypo-spray resounded in her ears.

Almost instantly, the tension began to subside and she began to relax. "Spiking diminishing," Teri’s voice remained professionally calm and Matt was able to draw some of that calm detachment from the nurse. "Spiking has stopped, Doctor - vital signs returning to previous levels." Nurse Teri confirmed what Matt already felt.

"Sorry about that," she gasped. "Oh, god, Bob. I don’t think I will ever feel attracted to a guy, but I guess it’s a blessing that this body isn’t fertile."

"Don’t count that blessing too quickly, Matt. You have the full endowment of eggs. You are a completely fertile and functional potential mother."

"You have to kidding me. I thought that we agreed two years ago that even if this . . . change was theoretically possible, that the fact that birth-women are born with all the eggs they will ever have in their lives meant that anyone being converted would not have stocked ovaries after transition."

Robert looked away and then sighed. "We were wrong, Matthew. Maybe the last shot of sperm from your testes before their conversion to ovaries, which is how we think it happened, by the way, became ova as part of the transition. We don’t know, but we do know that you have a complete supply of viable ova in your ovaries. I extracted a couple while you were still under sedation and they will fertilize. As a precaution, I implanted a slow release contraceptive in your hip before we brought you out from under."

Abstractly, Matt knew she would be having those kittens again if not for what ever tranquilizing agent they were using as a block. Still, whatever it was let her approach this latest stunner with some clinical detachment. "You mean, I can get pregnant?!?!" Robert nodded. "But as I said, Matt, it is not as if you have been reborn pregnant. You will have to be careful, just like any person who was born female, but between your own self control and that implant, it isn’t something you really need to worry about."

That thought seemed to dissolve whatever emotion was fighting against the blocking agent and Matt relaxed. "And how long is the implant good for?"

"Six months, guaranteed, old friend, and I won’t let you forget to renew the prescription. That was the toughest piece, my friend. If you can handle that, everything else should be easy."

"God, Bob, isn’t that enough to handle? On top of everything else, you tell me I am going to be some kind of walking, talking super-feminine female with a baby bomb ticking away in my innards?" her voice rose in pitch as the hysteria bubbled one last time before the block took complete effect. Her next breath was a shaky sigh.

"Women have dealt with it for millennia," Adam inserted soothingly. "We will help you get through this."

Matt knew she was doped, but the only effect was that she just couldn’t get excited anymore. "I accept your assessment, but Bob? I was ogling my own reflection just before you arrived."

A tentative smile broke across his face. "Well, I must admit, you are well worth the ogle," he teased gently before his voice turned serious again. "You are a pretty stable character, old friend, and like I’ve already said twice, I can’t see your rational mind getting carried away by the throes of passion. Your new and old sexualities will sort themselves out in time. Just relax and try to enjoy the ride." Matt’s eyes went wide when Bob gave her a fatherly pat on the head. "Are you handling this better, now?"

Matt thought about it, searching her drugged feelings. She shook her head. "Don’t think so. I think the blocking drugs are handling it instead of me, but so long as they are handling it, I am okay."

 

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© 1996 by Tigger. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.