This choice: Startled with surprises you sit bolt upright, in your new comfort girl body. • Go Back...Chapter #5Startled with surprises you sit bolt upright. by: Mr. George   Feeling your lungs expand you feel your broader chest shift. It's the weight that unsettles you, the liquid mobility as you inhale. Dread chills your veins, as you heave yourself bolt upright. Your vision blurry, it's still impossible to deny the sloshing weight pulling relentless at your shoulders is anything other than a stupendous bust.
Blinking away the tears, you look downwards. Your cleavage looks massive, your lips tremble as you hope that's a mistake. The unfamiliar angle making ... making them look bigger. The locks of raven hair float down your front framing the view. You become aware of the caress of stockings.
All your assumptions evaporate. You thought only women would end up... like this... in these roles. Surely all the men were meant to become miners, workers. You shiver partly from the cold air of the transition room, and partly from shock. One hand slips beneath your bust, a taut tummy hidden from view. Nausea rises in your throat as you consider your options. You don't know if you're simply a pleasure doll, crafted to keep the worker's stress levels low. Or if you're a fertile belly, engineered to boost the population of the colony. Neither feels like great options. The crude jokes about the slutty women, and their hyped hormones no longer quite as funny. Not now the jokes on you.
Panic replaces dread, and you dive out of the cryo-pod, as if you can somehow escape this body... this fate. But you flop humiliatingly to the floor. Your new balance vastly different, your new body still adjusting. Your chest sending your crashing, flailing to the floor.
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Even as you scramble onto your hands and knees, your chest sways wildly.
"Brandi.... Brandi McAndrew." a cold female voice startles you.
Looking upwards a prim nurse stands high over you, in the doorway.
"Ms. McAndrew, you'll like being a Brandi."
"Please..." your voice quavers, uncertain what to say, what to beg for, totally lost.
"Oh." there's an edge of amusement in her voice, "formerly Charles McAndrew.", her eyebrow quirks up.
"I'm Nurse Shields." stretching out a hand, she helps you into a simple chair before offering you a paper gown. The gown only makes you feel more naked, more vulnerable. She scans your paperwork, as you fumble with the ties of the gown.
"You didn't request to keep your gender..." she lets the words hang in the air for you to confirm or deny.
You didn't know that was even an option, but you timidly shake your head. The sound of your own 'please' still ringing in your ears as weak, needy... submissive. Your thoughts drift back to the male body you thought you'd have. But that provokes a different response now, and you wrap your arms around yourself, hug yourself for comfort. As if you could disguise or hide a body that you now have.
"An easy mistake to make." she shrugs, "Most men assume they'll end up working the mines. And it is mostly men who volunteer for these assignments, for Titan."
"Were... were you a ..." your voice trails off, unsure of the etiquette of even asking... assuming?
"No, woman, through and through." her eyes sparkle, "All my life."
Her tone is hard to read, and you might just be recovering from the cryo-pod. But you feel judged, dismissed by her gaze. You don't want to examine your own thoughts too closely as you take in your body. The assumptions that spring to your mind.
Your eyes go back to the pod. As if you could climb back in, and wake-up again, restored and leave this nightmare behind. Your mind mocks you with childhood versions of Sleeping Beauty, and princesses woken by kisses.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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