This choice: You don't want to be a girl. Maybe you can book passage to a different planet? • Go Back...Chapter #5Maybe you can book passage elsewhere. by: Mr. George   You keep walking through the terminal, chatting with Brandon. You aren't ready to surrender your holiday yet, nor are you set to go to Lesbos Five. The travelator speeding you along too. Stepping off, the end of the travelator you feel sure you're winning him over. Surely he can't book the holiday without your consent.
Your attention focused on him, you barely notice the automatic doors hissing open, or hissing shut behind you. It's only as he comes to a stop, that you look around. Shit! You realise you're in a boarding lounge... and you can guess which.
Behind a plain desk, a stern faced woman looks you both up and down. Her expression swapping between contempt and amusement. With a forced smile she directs you both towards an archway. Assuming it's a security check, you follow Brandon towards it. Even if you aren't boarding, you don't want to antagonise this woman.
Standing, she's as tall, about 6' tall, and possesses a confidence and self-assurance you currently lack. A pace or two shy of the gate, you see Brandon close his mouth, as if holding his breath. It's too late, to stop, to process the significance. The bastard knows this isn't a security gate.
As he steps into the arch, clouds of nanites jet out from various points around the arch. The mist expands until it includes you in it's grey haze.
"Brandon you bastard." you barely get the words out before a cough fit stops you from speaking further. Worryingly, even your coughs rise in pitch, as you struggle forward. Emerging from the other side of the arch, the mist hangs in the air, as only a bio-synthetic intelligence can manage.
The mist descends through a grate in the floor, leaving the air crystal clear once more. It's effects erasing your last doubts just as certainly, as it's removed your masculinity. You take in your own, and Brandon's new body. You fight the urge to plant your fist on your hips, in defiance.
Looking back to the desk officer, her face is much happier... triumphant even. Swallowing nervously, you have to look up to her, as she stands fully a head taller than you.... Fully a head taller than you were just a few moments ago.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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