Xora 3: Shell Game

by Brandy Dewinter

Chapter 2 - "Similarities . . . and Differences"

 

Our mutual protestations were interrupted before they were truly begun. "Stop!" Admiral Jones ordered. "Not another word from either of you!"

"Since you made such a big deal about being a trained officer, Xora," he continued, resuming his circular orbit of inspection. "Stand at attention! Both of you!"

That quickly became an order I had no choice but to obey. *"Not now, Titania,"* I begged silently as I felt my body take on a rigidity no cadet had ever matched. I hated it when she did that lockup thing. Then I realized we weren't really stationary. She had apparently decided we were once again competing with Tryx - or more specifically, with her symbiont rival Bee.

*"What are you doing?"* I demanded.

*"Just making us a little more . . . impressive,"* claimed my so-called partner.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tryx seem to shrink - no, not *there* - I meant in height. After a second I realized it was because I was getting taller - or more specifically, my heels were.

*"Damnit, Ti, I can hardly walk *now*! You can't make my heels any higher!"*

*"You're not trying to walk. You're at attention,"* she smirked.

Then she started in on other . . . enhancements. Or perhaps it would be better to say she enhanced further in areas she'd already enhanced. And yes, this time I *did* mean *those* areas.

*"That is enough!"* I shouted silently. *"I am not turning into some big-boobed clone of that blonde bimbo. Do you hear me, *Titty*!?"*

*"Bimbo?"* Titania repeated. *"Should I tell her, through Bee, that you think she's a bimbo?"*

*"You wouldn't dare!"*

Before Titania could respond, I decided I'd better put a little counter-incentive to that, or she'd tell Bee all kinds of things - only some of them even true - and I'd be in a world of hurt with my nominal colleague. *"If you tell Bee anything, I'll tell Tryx you like to be called Titty."*

*"Ha! She wouldn't believe it."*

*"Ha, yourself. The way you're inflating these puppies, she'd believe me in a heartbeat. Wanna bet?"*

My internal partner's silence was deafening, as they say. But I felt my bosom stabilize. If the 'girls' were a couple of sizes larger than before, they were still a couple of sizes smaller than those Tryx flaunted, so at least in comparison they didn't look as . . . . outrageous. Ha, like they hadn't looked incredible even before we entered Jonesy's office.

*"You're welcome,"* Titania said smugly.

*"That was *not* meant as a compliment,"* I snapped.

*"Yeah, like you even believe that yourself,"* she retorted. *"You know you love the way I've made you look."*

The truth hurts, sometimes, but I learned a long time ago you can't lie to your symbiont partner. *"Oh, Ti, most of the time, I do like it. I know that. But, well, there are limits."*

*"And you're standing next to the girl who defined them,"* claimed Ti unrepentantly.

Jonesy interrupted my mental argument by coming around to stand in front of us. He wore his own smug expression, perhaps because for the first time in a long time he had managed to keep Tryx and I quiet for a while. He probably should have quit while he was ahead. Tryx used the change in situation as a sign that his prohibition on speaking was over.

"I am NOT going to grow my hair down to my butt just to look like this walking wetdream here," she claimed.

"Give me a break," I demanded. "You bounce your boobs all over the base, and you accuse *me* of being blatant?"

"Jealous?"

"In your dreams!"

Jonesy's gravelly voice stepped on our . . . discussion. "Do I have to order you to silence again?"

Before we could reply, unless one considered our silence to be our reply, he continued. "I want to know the facts on this. Can you or can you not make yourselves look like each other?"

After a moment, I admitted, "It would take a while to make my waist that small. At that size, there needs to be a fair amount of internal organ, ah, rearrangement."

"Is this true?" Jonesy challenged Tryx.

The impossibly curvy blonde nodded. Then she made her own admission. "I don't think I could move as . . . gracefully as Xora does. My, um, balance is a bit different. Even if I took that hypnodisk, there would be some differences."

"Why, thank you, Tryx," I said in surprise.

"It's only fair," she replied, smiling. Then she spoke to Jonesy again. "And she's a bit taller. That would be even harder."

Jonesy offered a resolution. "Actually, it's not just looking like you each do now that I'm interested in. I want to know if you can appear in several guises - both of you. Some sort of compromise for your basic, ah, shape would be fine, with hair color and features variations. Something that would blend into a crowd."

I had to laugh at that. Once upon a time, I would not have stood out in any crowd. I was as thoroughly average as any human in the Federation. Now, it, um, tickled my sense of humor, and I let an invitation peek from my eyes as I purred, "Why Jonesy, do I - do *we* - look like we would blend into a crowd? Of course, I suppose that depends on the crowd. Just what will the people be doing? The ones we're supposed to, ah, blend with?"

Tryx picked up on that and smiled a wicked little smile that I was going to have to learn to copy. Letting crystal bells tinkle in her pure voice, she said, "I am somewhat . . . noticeable. I'm sure you often find that to be the case as well, right, Xora dear?"

I just raised an eyebrow at Jonesy. Well, that's not quite true. I also took a deep breath, slid my hips out of my formal 'attention' position, and slowly licked my lips.

His head lit up again, and Jonesy carefully looked at the mementoes on the shelf beyond us for a moment. When his bald head had paled back to a more normal color, he took his own deep breath. "Very well, we won't expect, ah, invisibility. Perhaps that would be better anyway. We're going to want you to, ah, make the, ah, acquaintance of a man, and if you are, um, noticeable then that will likely be easier."

"Would you like to explain that further?" I asked suspiciously.

Jonesy's embarrassment showed again, but he frowned - with an undercurrent of concern that didn't seemed focused on my personal feelings - and he looked directly at me. "I had the impression that you were not totally averse to the idea of a . . . relationship with a man."

"What sort of relationship?" I demanded, then my attention was diverted.

*"Damnit, Ti, don't do that!"*

*"Not me, partner. You're doing all that yourself."*

The 'that' to which we both referred was a very distracting responsiveness I felt in my own nipples and in a moister, darker place as well.

*"Well, damp it. I can't have them thinking I'm aroused at the idea of a 'relationship' with a man?"*

*"Why not?"* she asked with supreme innocence. *"After all, it's obviously true."*

*"Later,"* I ordered, and if one can grit one's teeth in a mental conversation, that's what I was doing. Titania must have picked up on my real distress because all external signs of my . . . interest faded. Unfortunately, I still felt some most distracting tingles where they didn't show.

Jonesy didn't answer my question. If he had intended to, his chance was lost when Tryx asked a question of her own.

"With whom?" asked Tryx. "And why do you want us to look like each other?"

Jonesy's answer started out as a non-sequitur. "Are either of you familiar with a drug called, 'thionite?'"

"Only from the training material," Tryx replied. Which put her one up on me. Another training course I hadn't had yet.

When I didn't answer, Jonesy explained. "It's a phenomenally addictive drug, one dose and the users seem to be hooked forever. It's a psychological addiction which doesn't dissipate with time. Users will sell all that they possess for another dose, no matter how long it's been since their prior experience. Physically, it's a simple powder - purple in color - and the required amount is very small. As a result, it's an extremely profitable business."

He frowned, then shrugged in an admission of disappointment. "Unfortunately, we don't even know where the thionite comes from."

"And we're going to end up looking like each other because . . . . ?" prompted Tryx .

"Because we do have one line on the source of supply," Jonesy continued, leaning back on his desk, then tapping a notepad to call up a picture on his viewscreen. "It's a man named Oslo Mordant. His security is excellent, which is part of the reason we don't know his source of supply. It would appear his only weakness is . . . "

"Obvious," I finished for him.

In the viewscreen was a tall man, casually dressed, but wearing a shirt that had the slightly uneven look of real, natural silk - making it ten times as expensive as any fabric I'd ever worn. That wasn't the, ahem, weakness Jonesy referred to, though. The man in the viewscreen was surrounded by several astonishingly beautiful women, all of whom seemed focused exclusively on him.

"We might fit into that crowd after all," Tryx murmured.

"Indeed," Jonesy concurred. "But that's another reason we need you two on this one. We think he might have used thionite on these women in order to control them."

"If so, it doesn't seem to have had any adverse effects," I observed.

"It's not physically debilitating," Tryx explained, "just psychologically. However, Jonesy, your point is valid. My, um, our symbionts can protect us from that drug if he tries to get us hooked on it. But you still haven't explained why we need to look like each other."

"Well, there is a weakness - a specific one - in Mordant's security."

"I think I can figure that out," I interrupted, then I turned to Tryx to answer her question. "We're going to be in two places at the same time, because the only person with the freedom to wander around is whomever he, ah, takes as his favorite."

"That's pretty close," Jonesy admitted. "We do indeed want you to infiltrate his entourage. But it's not clear that he takes any one girl as his favorite, at least not for long. However, what surveillance we have managed indicates that he does apparently restrict their freedom to move about, especially the ones who are not, ah, enjoying his favors at the moment. While he is occupied with one of you, the other will use the passport of being her apparent twin to do a little snooping around."

He continued, "Also, if public surveillance is required, the fact you can change your appearance will allow either of you to be near him without being noticed . . .," he held up his hands in silent surrender when Tryx and I simultaneously bristled at that. " . . . at least not noticed as someone he's seen before. You should be able to follow him unobserved, um without attracting attention, ah, without making him suspicious."

Jonesy walked around and sat in his chair. The psychological distance caused by his intervening desk made it clear he was past the discussion stage and into giving us operational orders.

"You are to establish yourself in Mordant's entourage, and determine where he gets his thionite. It's more important to find his source than to find evidence to convict Mordant himself, but of course I expect you to do that, too."

His eyes roved over us once again, and though he tried to make it seem as though it were a professionally military inspection, he revealed more than he intended when he subconsciously licked his lips.

"You two are the most spectacularly beautiful women I have ever seen. There is something . . . distinct about you, yet shared, as though you were the light and dark sides of the same dream. It's more than just appearance. Perhaps you emit some pheromone or something. (*"Ti, have you . . . ?"* *"Just a little. I've been practicing."* *"Well, tell me about that sort of thing, okay?"* *"I was going to . . . eventually."*) I'm sure you'll be . . . irresistible to Mordant, yet utterly convincing as each other if the need arises."

"However," he continued. "You are going to have to work out some sort of compromise in your, ah, dimensions. To that end, Commander Tryx, I think it might be easier to, ah, blend in if your figure were a little less, ah, dramatic. Don't you think?"

"Damnit, Jonesy," she protested. "I worked hard for this waist."

Titania snickered in my ear. *"I think Bee did all the work."*

*"Quiet, Ti, we're about to win this one."*

"And you can get it back, just as soon as the mission is over," Jonesy declared implacably. "Consider it an incentive to complete the mission quickly."

Tryx's fabulous face showed an unflattering frown for a moment, then she transformed that into a heart-stopping pout of her own. She undulated over to the side of his desk and the clear tones of an angel sang from her soft voice. "But Jonesy, I thought you wanted us to be noticed. I . . . attract *you*, don't I?"

*"Uh, oh,"* I thought to Titania. *"We may not win this one after all."*

*"Wanna bet?"* she challenged.

Not that I needed her challenge. I was already flowing around the other end of Jonesy's desk. Leaning forward so my, ahem, assets showed for a moment, then were - mostly - hidden by a cascade of liquid night as my silken hair flowed over my shoulders, I let a husky note into my own voice that was a sharp contrast to Tryx's angelic tones when I said, "Why, Admiral Jones, surely you're not going to imply that my own . . . attributes are inadequate."

I admit it. If it would have been necessary, I'd have leaned forward and blown in his ear. Just before Tryx would have done the same, of course. But it didn't turn out to be necessary. He pushed his chair back and held up his hands to keep us away. "Save it for Mordant. I'm not so much of a fool that I'd let myself be caught in the middle of your little competition. Tryx, keep your figure close enough to the normal range that your waist and other, uh, features are not so unique you can't sell your disguise. Xora, for once, stop your silly competition with Tryx about shoes and lose enough heel to match her in height, and if you don't get your voice and your . . . backbone under control, you'll stand out just as badly."

Tryx was a good loser, not that I'd admit my figure was any real loss of course, and she giggled as she stood back. "First time I've ever heard the way we, ahem, stand out called, 'bad.'"

"Oh, I don't know," I purred, still teasing Jonesy even though I'd won - more or less. "Sometimes being 'bad' can be very, very good, don't you think?"

Tryx laughed again and agreed, "Definitely! Have I told you about the time I . . . ?"

She interrupted herself (winking at me where Jonesy couldn't see) and linked her arm in mine to lead me out of his office. "I guess ol' Jonesy wouldn't be interested in that. Too bad. We'll just be going."

I thought he was going to dismiss us, but that look of concern showed in his eyes again. "There is one more thing, Xora. The psychs are . . . interested in your, ah, changes. Even if I certify you as trained, they won't release you for the mission until you pass some sort of test. Frankly, I don't care if you hear voices in your head and see pink elephants in tutus. I'm only interested in results. But I have to obey orders, too. While Tryx works to quit looking like, ah, something from an 'Invasion of the Wasp-Women' vid, go arrange for them to take a look between your ears."

"Why, what's wrong?" I asked in alarm.

Now Jonesy looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "But the, ah, changes you chose to incorporate into your new appearance are not just to be a, um, more attractive form of yourself, as Tryx has done." He interrupted and looked at her in a half-hearted attempt at humor. "Or overdone as the case may be. The shrinks are concerned there are . . . deeper issues with you. I'm sure you'll do fine, though."

The last part of what he said barely registered. Titania was shouting in my ear about being found, like that wasn't on my own mind as well. What would we tell the shrinks? Are you crazy if there really *is* a voice in your head? Especially if you can't tell them why?

 

 

 

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© 2003 by Brandy Dewinter. 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.