This choice: With a soft hiss, the nanites drift into the two pods. • Go Back...Chapter #6With a soft hiss, the nanites drift into the tw... by: Mr. George   A swirling mist enters from a nozzle above your head. The cloud dancing in front of your eyes, the occasional sparkle in the midst. You fight the urge to cover your nose and mouth. The haze loses its' drifting, aimless quality, as their hive mind asserts itself.
There's a sound of thrashing from the neighbouring pod. Not the panic-stricken fever of someone fighting for escape. But the futile attempts as Mrs. Jensen swats wildly at the nanites. There are hundreds of millions of them, and any damaged and destroyed units abandoned, their tiny bodies re-used to make their own replacements.
The sounds from next door weaken, as time goes on. While you feel the effects as the nanites invade every part of your body. Your body feeling alien, and distant as you slump back. No longer quite in control of your breathing. It's your turn to feel panic, as your breathing slips from your control. Your lungs still working, a flash of vision disorients you. Momentarily you saw the lab, from her position. You felt her body breathing.
Screwing your eyes shut against the whirling vertigo of the experiment, you tell your growling stomach, this is necessary. This is what you want, what you need for your scientific reputation. You nod to yourself, but a hiccup comes with an unsettlingly large shifting on your chest. A heaviness that doesn't feel right.
Eyes snapping back open, you're treated to a view down your own canyon of cleavage. Looking away in disbelieving horror, you shake your head in denial.
However, from the opposite side of the pod door, Mr. Jensen reads your face entirely differently. A broad grin, widening revealing more teeth than you like. His gaze dropping from your terror widened eyes, and panting breath, to your vast rolling chest, as it pitches with each breath.
With the cycle complete, the pods swing open simultaneously. Your own body... your old body, resting quiet, and calm... empty.
Turning your attention inwards, you sense the suppressed personality of Cassandra Jensen. A sense of dreamlike unreality should keep her calm, allowing you to maintain control of her body. A cough clears some last nanites from your throat. It's higher pitched, somehow feminine without even speaking a word, you know your voice lacks that gravelly authority, that low growl that you liked.
With a half-swallowed gasp, you find sudden importance in your preferences. The body is yours to control, the autonomic responses left as they were. However, you hadn't considered too deeply, the effects of hormones and upbringing. Your thoughts are scattered as Mr. Jensen rises from his seat. Now a much more imposing figure, he towers over you by twelve inches or more. His body though old, is more used to exerting power and authority than yours. His bodyguard an added incentive to obedience.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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