Genomorph

Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

Brandi saw Dylan drop his right hand slightly, grinned, knowing he was about to launch a right kick. She stepped aside a fraction of a second before he did and the kick sailed into empty air.

“You knew I was going to do that!” he exclaimed.

“You’re still dropping your right hand,” Brandi told him. “It’s barely noticeable but a good opponent will pick up on it, and in a match, they’re not gonna just step aside.”

Brandi had developed a routine over her first month with Melissa and Karen. She readily took on the daily chores of keeping the house in order. It only made sense since her friends were both working and going to school and their weekdays were very full. Since Brandi rarely slept more than two or three hours a night, it was easy for her to be up in time to make sure they had a decent breakfast before starting their day and have a meal waiting when they came home. She did have to be careful with her cooking; most of what she was familiar with preparing were the high calorie dishes Brandon had enjoyed and the girls reminded her regularly that they did gain weight and when she prepared a lavish meal they had to squeeze in the time to work the extra calories off.

She had also developed a close circle of friends, starting with the rest of Melissa and Karen’s band, the Post-Modern Bimbos. They were a fun group, and Brandi enjoyed going to their practices. The band had begun playing at some small clubs a few times a week, and their mix of pop, folk rock and country was very well received. Listening to them had generated a different kind of yearning in Brandi, and she had gone to a music store Melissa told her about and bought a Fender acoustic/electric twelve string guitar. Her half inch nails had given her a bit of trouble when she first tried to play, until she thought to shrink them down until they no longer extended beyond her finger tips. She began practicing regularly and gradually lengthened them until she could keep them at their normal length.

She had hoped that she would be able to play as well as Brandon had; he was a decent rhythm guitarist which was why he had favored the twelve string, but had never been accomplished enough to finger pick. To her delight, she quickly discovered she was far better, and shortly after getting the twelve string she purchased a six string as well and started teaching herself to play more complex lead and accompaniment parts. Her mind’s ability to multitask was very beneficial, and she also found she had perfect pitch. She could instantly tell if a string was out of tune in the slightest.

The most startling discovery of all was her voice. Brandon had a nice tenor singing voice and Brandi had expected her voice to be a soprano based on her speech. When Melissa tested her range with the piano, she was easily able to reach from C2 to C7 on the keyboard, and even above and below that by a few notes with effort, giving her a good five octave range and then some. Brandi was certain it was due to her ability to alter form and assume the appearance of another woman. Her voice had to be flexible so she could to pass as someone else. She suspected that with practice she would be able to hit any note within the human vocal range, and quite possibly a few outside it.

She thought about how far she had come in the last month, as she gave Dylan some suggestions about his habit of telegraphing his kick. Dressing like a girl no longer brought on any anxiety, though she was still disturbed by the attention she received, or more accurately the feelings that attention caused within her. And since she was in hiding, any attention tended to make her nervous. It might have been more sensible for her to keep out of sight as much as possible, but she had done that in the initial days after her escape and it just was not in her nature. And there was a growing part of her that genuinely liked the attention she got, as long as it was polite.

Daily exercise was another part of her routine, and she alternated time between jogging and sparring at Dylan’s gym. Her runs were long, generally lasting between two and three hours, and she usually ran the full length of Ocean Front several times. Three times a week she went to the gym, and she and Dylan worked out in a private room he used for training.

“Ok let’s give it another go,” Dylan suggested.

They circled each other warily, Dylan feinting several times but failing to draw Brandi out. Then he launched a rapid series of attacks, he had long since stopped holding back with her, and when Brandi saw his right hand drop she shifted left and easily deflected the kick and gave him a slap on the rear for good measure.

“You’re still telegraphing, honey,” she said, her voice playful. “Next time I’m gonna spank you harder.”

They continued the bout and Dylan again prepared his favorite kick and Brandi saw him drop his right hand once more. She stepped to the left and Dylan promptly dropped down and swept her legs, taking her down to the mat and rolling on top of her.

“Misdirection is a valid tactic, too,” Brandi giggled, fully aware that she had been suckered in.

“I guess it’s my turn to spank you,” Dylan said, grinning.

For a moment they simply stared at each other, Dylan grinning that incredibly cute, roguish grin of his and Brandi finding herself mesmerized by his deep blue eyes. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Brandi responded, parting her lips and kissing him back. At first she thought nothing of it; it was like kissing him was the most natural thing in the world. It was not like it had been in the past, her body was not acting while her mind resisted. Both were quite in harmony, and for a moment she felt like she was going to lose all control. Then Dylan’s lips moved down to her neck and she found her voice.

“Dylan, please stop,” Brandi moaned softly, her tone not quite pleading.

Dylan pushed himself up and looked at her, saying, “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.”

He leaned close again but Brandi summoned all her will power and held him back.

“Dylan, I like you, I really do,” she said, and now she was pleading, tears brimming her eyes, “but if you don’t stop, I won’t be able to stop. I’m not ready for what comes next, and I don’t think you would want it to be like that.”

Dylan pushed himself up and looked at her, his eyes filled with resignation. But Brandi also saw compassion in them.

“I’m sorry, Brandi,” Dylan said. “I don’t know who hurt you, but he has to be the biggest asshole in the world.”

Brandi summoned up a grin as he helped her to her feet and said, “That’s very sweet of you to say, Dylan. I wish it was that simple.”

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me about it.” Dylan said hopefully.

“Maybe I will, but not today,” Brandi replied. “I really have to get going.”

Brandi collected her fanny pack from her locker and left the gym. It was still early so she decided to run a bit to burn off some excess steam.

She reflected on the kiss. It had been far from unpleasant; in fact it had felt like the most natural thing in the world to kiss a man, especially a strong, handsome man like Dylan. But even with that, she had felt no emotion, no desire, only need. But as she ran she remembered the feel of his arms about her, their lips pressed together and their tongues entwined, and a smile crept across her face.

Tonight was a big night, so she kept her run to one hour. The band was playing at a big club called The Backbeat, and all the girls would be over for dinner before they headed out. And for the first time, Brandi was going to hear them play in an actual performance instead of just practice. She knew it was a risk; exposing herself to a club full of people…a lot of them men looking to score. Just the night before she had almost convinced herself she should not go. But now she was looking forward to it. She had spent four months in a hole in the ground and another rarely leaving the house. Her seventeen year old nature was asserting itself with a vengeance and demanding some release. To put it plainly, she wanted to party.

Brandi entered the house from her run, her body coated in a thin film of perspiration. She did not really need the exercise; her body never gained weight no matter how much she ate, but she was able to detect a difference. Her muscle tone had been good but now it was better, and she believed the regular exercise was helping her improve her already considerable endurance.

She went into the kitchen and checked the roast she had put in the oven before starting her run and saw that it was ready, so she turned the oven off. Humming softly she went upstairs and stripped out of her tights and sports bra and started the water for a bath. Nikki had been right about the Enell sports bras; they provided much better support and their front hook closure made putting one on and removing it much easier.

Once the bath was full she removed her water proof vibrator from the drawer next to the bathroom sink. It was time for her other workout, and the running had not helped at all. She now had to pleasure herself two to three times a day to keep her sexual urges in check. It was still as pleasurable as always, but the desire was coming back much faster. Her programmed desire for sex was really the last hurdle she had to deal with, and she knew she would have to take another step in her journey soon.

After her bath she slipped into the knit pants and camisole that she liked to wear lounging around the house and sat down at her desk to send out a quick email to Susan. After opening the word processor, she paused for a moment to compose what she was going to say in her mind. Her hands were resting on the front keyboard and she felt them tingle slightly. She was about to pull her hands away when the words in her mind began appearing on the screen, but her fingers were not even moving!

Well that’s a new trick, she thought, and even as she thought it she saw the words typed across the screen. She decided she would explore this new ability for a bit.

Dear Mom,

Well the girl just keeps getting stranger. I am writing this to you and my fingers are not even moving. It appears that I have interfaced with my laptop and as I think the words they appear on the screen. I guess it’s the same process as normal…I’m just by passing the whole manual process. It’s actually way cool, I mean I type pretty fast but this is going out at blazing speed and as soon as I think the words there they are and I don’t even have to think about the spelling or anything like that and it makes me wonder what else I could do with this like could I interface with an ATM machine or something like that or maybe the electronic ignition on a car and ok now I am rambling] … I’ll have to watch that.

It is cool though. I’ll have to explore it further. I can only assume it has something to do with my ability to detect and disrupt electronic devices. Do you think it is possible that the nanocyborgs are able to enter an electronic device, like they did when I healed Melissa’s face? The sensation I am feeling in my fingers is very much like what I felt then. Of course it’s unlikely they are what allow me to disrupt a video camera ten feet away, unless the little buggers can fly.

Well, tonight is the big night and, yes, I am more than a little scared. There are going to be a lot of people there and the level of emotion is no doubt going to be high. But it’s a really important night for my friends, and I really want to be there to see it. Also, I am going nuts just hanging around the house all the time and it’s not like it makes it any easier to deal with my sex drive. I want to have some fun.

Why don’t I just do it? Karen asked me that a while back and the explanation still is the same. I don’t want to be that girl…the one that goes out to clubs looking for a one night stand. I mean as far as men go, that would be all I’m looking for…but I’d like to at least have some connection to the guy. I want to know his name and at least know I like him, even just a little. As far as women go, I still see pretty girls all the time and feel a strong attraction…but there’s only one girl I want to be with and I can’t even do that because I’m afraid it’s just because of the programming and I don’t want my first time with Melissa to be because I’m so horny I can’t stand it I want it to be special and mean something and here I go rambling again .…

Anyway, other than my raging desire for sex and my absolute fear of having it, everything is going well. I’m glad you liked the pictures I sent. Yes Brandi is pretty much all girl now…though sometimes Melissa and Karen still have to jump on me when I act a little too much like a guy. Generally these days it revolves around eating. I’m getting better. I have started spreading out my eating and doing judicious amounts of snacking between major meals. I think chocolate might have been created for Genomorphs. Rocky Road ice cream too!

I miss you terribly, and though I know it won’t do any good I’m going to say please don’t worry about me. I have wonderful friends, and they are taking good care of me. I haven’t gotten in an altercation since the hijacking. Ok, not a serious altercation. Melissa and I were out for a walk the other night and this group of obnoxious jerks started hitting on us. Of course that sent me into bimbo mode and Melissa finally had to dissuade them by saying she just was not into guys. I nearly decked one of them when he called her a dyke but she stopped me. Too bad, a broken nose might have done him some good.

Love,

Brandi

Brandi pulled her hands away from the laptop, and then used the more traditional method of clicking the mouse to send the email. She had heard the garage door opening and recognized the familiar sound of Melissa’s Ford Escape. It was a gas-electric hybrid, but that did not figure into her ability to recognize its engine signature. She was able to recognize the little knocks and pings unique to any engine.

~ I’d make a great sonar operator on a sub, if they let women on subs. ~

At her request, Melissa and Karen had both stopped using the bus and started driving. It was a security precaution; if her location was discovered, they might try to get to her through her friends, and she felt more comfortable knowing they had a means of escape nearby wherever they were.

Brandi closed the laptop once the mail was sent and went downstairs. She was just taking the roast out of the oven as Melissa entered through the through the door from the garage.

“That smells wonderful!” she said as she stopped at the kitchen counter. “So how has your day been sweetie?”

“Great,” Brandi replied as she drained the drippings from the pan into a pot on the stove top. She turned the burner on and added some water before turning to give Melissa a big smile.

They talked for a bit, though Brandi did not share with Melissa what had happened at the gym, and then Melissa went upstairs to change as Brandi began setting the table. The rest of the girls arrived within the next half hour and they were soon settled around the dining room table.

“It’s really great you’re coming out to see us play tonight, Brandi.” Amber Galloway said. The petite blonde was the band’s drummer and in her fourth year as an undergraduate in the UCLA school of engineering. She acted a lot like Brandi, and like Brandi it was mostly an act, as she was one of the top students in the department. Her blonde hair was short and spiked and she had a small diamond stud in the left side of her nose, as well as a larger one in her belly button. Though Brandi had never seen them she knew Amber had a few other piercings as well.

“I’m pretty excited about it myself,” Brandi said truthfully. “It has been, like, so long since I really went out.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to worry about buying your own drinks,” Cyndi Dalton grinned. “The guys will be tripping over each other.”

Cyndi was the lead guitarist for the Bimbos. She was taller than Brandi, about five nine, and had straight, dark red hair that reached the middle of her back. She had a trim, athletic figure and piercing hazel eyes. At twenty-six she was the oldest of the group, and was doing post graduate work in history.

“Just be careful,” Cyndi’s girlfriend, Renee Fallon cautioned. “Watch out for the sharks; they’re always on the lookout for fresh meat.”

Renee played bass guitar and she and Cyndi had been together for two years. She was about Brandi’s height of five foot eight. She had dark brown hair that was cut to shoulder length. Like Cyndi she was trim, but a bit curvier. She was twenty-four and also in the post graduate program, working on her masters in psychology.

Though the three girls did not know about Brandi’s secret, Melissa and Karen had told them about her ‘condition’. Without going into a lot of detail, they had told them that Brandi had an uncharacteristically high sex drive, and had to constantly fight to maintain control. They had all promised to help keep an eye on her.

“Maybe they won’t be the only ones on the prowl,” Brandi giggled, pushing her chair back from the table. “I’m gonna start getting ready!”

As Brandi practically ran upstairs, Melissa and Karen exchanged worried looks. The night before she had been so tense she had talked about not going. Now she was eager … far too eager.

“Are you guys sure this is a good idea?” Cyndi asked.

“I’m beginning to wonder,” Melissa said.

“Keeping her in a box won’t make things any better,” Renee told them. “Have you talked to her about seeing a therapist?”

Melissa sighed, knowing Renee meant well, and just as certainly knowing there was nothing a therapist could do for Brandi. Though her behavior could easily be viewed as an emotional problem, her personality swings were very similar to someone who was bi-polar; there just were not any therapists out there that dealt with helping someone deal with programming inflicted by an ancient alien artifact.

“It’s complicated Renee,” Melissa said. “But you’re right; we can’t keep her locked up. She’s going to need my help getting into that outfit she picked out so I’ll talk to her.”

*****

Reginald Mercer was wading through a dozen reports of possible sightings of the Genomorph, none of them promising, when his desk phone beeped. He stabbed the intercom button impatiently.

“What is it, Miss Todd?”

“Agent Reynolds would like to see you Mr. Mercer,” a very sexy voice replied through the speaker. “He says it’s urgent.”

“Send him in.”

A moment later the door opened and Agent Reynolds stepped in, carrying a file folder.

“What is it, Reynolds?”

“I think we have a definite sighting, sir.” Reynolds replied, opening the folder. “We found a citizen report to the LAPD of an incident that occurred the night before the truck hijacking. A young blonde woman was seen fighting with half a dozen gang members in a park in south LA. According to the witness she handled them easily. The police discounted it as a crank report.”

Reynolds handed the report to Mercer, who scanned it quickly. It did look promising, but he did not see where it helped them.

“This gets us no closer to a current location,” Mercer grumbled. “She could have gone anywhere after the hijacking.”

“Sir, we know that Arnold Belcher, the driver whose truck was hijacked, left Las Vegas the same night the Genomorph escaped,” Reynolds said. “He then made several stops, ending up in Los Angeles on the night of this incident. During the day, he made a delivery at a parts house.”

“Get to the point please.”

“The manager of that parts house, a Max Duggan, was the one who set Belcher up for the hijacking. He told the police that a young blonde woman was traveling with the trucker, supposedly his niece. Arnold Belcher has no siblings.”

“You think he picked her up at the rest stop?” Mercer asked.

“Yes sir,” Reynolds replied. “She then traveled with him to San Francisco, and was present when the truck was hijacked. After the authorities let Belcher go, he spent the night in Carsonville, just ten miles from the scene. The next day he returned to LA, and then headed west. He could have easily driven to LA the day before, but for some reason he stopped.”

“And she may have been injured foiling the hijacking,” Mercer said. “One of the hijackers claimed to have shot her four times. She would have needed sleep to recover fully.”

“Yes sir,” Reynolds nodded. “I believe the first night in LA she may have been scouting out the city with the intention of returning there to lay low. We know that after Belcher left LA he was alone.”

“All right, concentrate all the teams in LA,” Mercer ordered.

“Yes sir,” Reynolds said. “I have already initiated a detailed search of LAPD and LA county sheriff’s records for the days since Belcher left. She seems to have a tendency to find trouble whether she’s looking for it or not.”

“Good work, Reynolds,” Mercer said. “Keep me informed.”

After Reynolds left Mercer smiled. They were closing in, he was sure of it. The bitch did have a tendency to stick her nose into things; if she saw someone being mugged she would not be able to stand by and do nothing.

Mercer decided a celebration was in order. He punched the button on his phone again.

“Miss Todd, please come in here.”

The door opened and Martina Todd, his new secretary, walked in, a big smile on her face. She was dressed smartly in a black knee length skirt, white silk blouse and black blazer. Her legs were clad in black nylons and the three inch heels she wore accentuated their length.

She tossed her head, flipping her long, black hair back and making her large breasts jiggle enticingly.

“Can I do something for you, Mr. Mercer?” she asked sweetly as she locked the door.

“You certainly can,” Mercer grinned as she stepped around the desk and dropped to her knees.

In a deep recess of her mind, the former supervisor of the intelligence section Todd Martin, or rather what was left of him, cried.