The idea came to mind at the end of my infatuation with Sarah K. I say 'end of' because, regardless of how I felt about her, she didn't feel that way about me. She was a fellow student, majoring in the computer sciences. I don't think it's easy to say exactly why she caught my attention as she did. She was soft spoken and kept mostly to herself. She was pretty, with a nice figure, if a little on the skinny side, with fair skin and glossy black hair. Behind those glasses of hers though, she had the most entrancing green eyes.
Perhaps she was too shy, or too wrapped up in her studies, but either way I wasn't making much of an impression on her. I suppose any normal or sane man would let the matter drop where it lay. Well, I didn't. In my particular way, I began to wish I could have Sarah all to myself -or, at least at version of her. It was when I found a strand of her glossy hair on her desk after lectures that the decision to use the Klein Bottle was made. I knew the process, but this would be my first real attempt at using this technology (or magic, or whatever one chooses to call it).
The first step was the easiest. Using the school's bio-chem lab, I took that hair to tease out a strand of intact DNA, which I then implanted inside the empty ovum of a mouse. Now, the controversial bit.
Taking out a pre-prepared vial of my own sperm, I added it to the test tube, having separated out a sample of my semen to include only X-chromosome sperm. It's difficult to admit that what I'd set out to create would in part be my own offspring, but while masturbating to provide this supply of sperm, I tried to think only of Sarah. Now, adding in the receptor chemical that would allow the animal egg cell to accept my seed, I stirred the mix and found under the micron microscope the implantation had indeed taken place.
Cleaning up the evidence of my potentially illegal work, I prepared a vial and smuggled my fertilized egg back home.
The Klein Bottle itself could be mistaken for an ordinary glass pitcher, at least at first glance. It was somewhat larger, rounder and more stylized. The real difference only became apparent on closer inspection. In mathematics, a 'klein bottle' represents a single sided moebius strip, looping in on itself, forming a vessel that contains zero volume. In effect, the bottle's interior exists in a separate space-time, in isolation from our own. To say any more would be to give too much away.
Arriving at my dorm apartment, I cleared a wide space on my desk. Setting up my valued Klein Bottle, I also placed a portable heater and a few other alchemical items I'll gloss over mentioning. The difficult part involved the creation of the 'water of life', a sort of artificial embryonic fluid, with which I then filled the bottle. Finally, I placed inside the fertilized ovum.
By the time the final step had been completed, it was getting quite late. Before preparing for bed though, I opened up a new notebook and began a journal, which is one of those alchemical traditions I couldn't ignore. With the end of what I'd labeled Day 0, I made one final decision -the name of my new creation. She would be called Sara -'Sara' being a truncated version of 'Sarah', just as Sara herself would be.
* * *
The morning came, and with it the first signs of success. The previously invisible cell had become a vaguely pinkish sphere, almost a centimeter in diameter, floating in the middle of the Klein Bottle. Making a brief notation in my journal, I left for school, curious to see what sort of development would take place when I got back.
It was a little strange seeing Sarah again, but at the same time quite liberating to know I didn't have to worry about 'winning and wooing'; I already had her.
Returning home, I found that things seemed to be progressing quite smoothly. 'Sara' was now about 2 inches in length, curled up as one would expect of a developing fetus, her skin still somewhat translucent. Unlike a fetus though, she was forming with more adult proportions, with delicate slender limbs, and even the fuzz of dark hair appearing on her head.
Magnifying glass in hand, I jotted down all these observations in my journal, getting excited by the prospects of my success. Granted, most of the credit had to go to the un-real space of the Klein Bottle, but with so many variables that could have gone wrong, I felt proud of my efforts. By the end of the day, she'd grown yet another inch at least. At this rate, I knew it wouldn't be more than a couple of days before Sara would be ready to be 'born'.
* * *
On the third, and what would prove to be final day, I awoke to find Sara had grown nearly double in size. A perfect miniature of the real Sarah (if my own genes had made any changes, I couldn't see them), she floated weightless, knees drawn up to her chin, tiny eyes closed. Her hair had grown so that it was shoulder length, and her skin was no longer translucent. I could even make out her fingernails if I looked hard enough. She was such a darling little thing I spent several minutes just watching her before making my journal notations and getting ready for lectures.
* * *
My first bout of carelessness came near the end of the school day. I had run into my good friend Paul, and as we usually did, grabbed a slice of pizza and headed over to my place to check out my new DVDs. We would talk about classes, and he could complain about his mother, with whom he still lived. It was so matter of habit I didn't realize until we were marching up the stairs what a mistake I'd made. The Klein Bottle was left right out on my desk, and there wasn't going to be any easy explanation for what was floating inside it.
"What's the matter," Paul asked, noting my hesitation.
"Erm, no, nothing exactly," I mumbled, preparing myself for the worst. On entering my smallish apartment, it took Paul all of two seconds to discover my secret project.
"What in the hell..."
He leaned in close, peering at Sara. She'd now reached about 10" in overall length, and I realized with a sort of dull panic that I'd have to decant the bottle and extract her from it soon, probably as soon as tonight. Hopefully I could get rid of Paul before then.
"It's not really what it seems," I tried to explain.
"Is it some sort of model?" He rapped a fingernail against the glass. To our mutual surprise, she turned her head to the sound, her eyes now open and aware. "She's alive!"
"Erm, yeah."
He looked over at me with gleeful astonishment.
"But, how? A clone?"
"Sort of," I admitted. "I don't know that it's necessarily illegal, but it's best to keep this under your hat if you could."
"Hmm." He turned to look at her more closely. "She looks vaguely familiar. Did you use someone's genes as base material?"
"Oh, only my own," I lied. "I only switched the XY chromosome to XX. I wanted to see what I'd look like as a female."
"Is that so," he remarked. "Doesn't look much like you."
"No, I suppose not."
I threw a cloth over the bottle, explaining that too much light exposure would be harmful -another lie. Paul did finally leave, though I got the impression his interest in my project hadn't waned, and he would be back before long. Well, I'd have to worry about that another time. I had a potentially long evening ahead of me.
* * *
I spent the midnight hour seated at the desk, scratching at my journal while watching Sara with a keen eye. She was mobile now, to a certain extent. She flexed her limbs, twisted her body, looked through the walls of the glass at the world outside. At about a foot in length, she'd filled out the vessel's interior that I knew it wouldn't be safe to keep her inside much longer. It was time.
Making use of an an empty 2L plastic pop bottle, I began the process of decanting the fluid from within the Klein Bottle, keeping a careful eye on the temperature and colour within. The timing had to be just right for Sara's emergence from unreal Klein space into the real world, and my waiting arms. Hands pressed against the glass, she looked about in alarm as her mini-universe collapsed around her.
"Just hold tight," I said, "not much longer now."
The Klein space suddenly closed shut, and Sara was ejected bodily from the interior onto my desk top in a pool of embryonic fluid. Clutching her sides, the diminutive woman coughed out that same fluid from her lungs, taking her first gasps of proper oxygen. No matter how one comes into this world, the process of birth is never easy.
Once her breathing had returned to normal, I carefully picked her up in both hands, carrying her to the kitchen sink. I was immediately struck by her weight. Perhaps because she was doll-sized, I half expected her to feel just as light, but instead she was very solid. Laying her on the counter, I ran some lukewarm water and soaked a washcloth. Sara squirmed in my grasp as I washed the sticky greenish fluid from her body, trying not to be too rough for fear of bruising her.
"Take it easy," I said to her, "it'll all be over soon."
When I was done, she sat back, her damp naked body still glistening slightly. Her bright green eyes met mine, and for the first time we truly looked at each other. I took a deep sobering breath, now struck full force with the implications of what I'd done. I'd recreated Sarah in living form, and I owned her.
It also meant I was responsible for her -feeding her, attending to her bodily needs, and everything else that went along with keeping a pet of any description. What she thought of me I could have no idea. She looked a little frightened, but curious as well, perhaps aware at some level that I was responsible for bringing her into this world.
"Welcome to my home, Sara," I said, giving her a smile.
Her expression softened, but she didn't make a sound in reply. I knew she must have the capacity for language, but I supposed it wasn't part of the process that she would be speaking right away. Well, no matter. I believe I rather liked the idea of her being mute.
By now it was fairly late, and the amount of effort and concentration it took to decant Sara had taken its toll on me. Excited to finally have her, the last thing I wanted to do was sleep, but I didn't think I had the energy for an all nighter. Besides, it wasn't as if she was going to disappear anywhere, and I could always skip off classes to spend all of tomorrow with her.
Sara began to glance around, taking in her surroundings. I kept the short kitchen counter fairly uncluttered, so there wasn't much for her to key in on, but she seemed intent on exploring. She got up on her knees, then unsteadily rose to her feet, standing erect for the first time. I had to smile. Not only way she showing me the remarkable level of her development, to be able to stand after mere moments of her 'birth', but she was also giving me a great view of her body. I'd been dying to see what Sarah looked like underneath her clothes. I didn't have to wonder anymore.
Sara was skinny, just as Sarah was, with a delicately feminine form. Her shiny black hair was still damp, clinging to her back and shoulders. Her light skin was virtually flawless. She had relatively small breasts (going by proportion), but were wonderfully shaped. They were capped by small dark nipples, the one on the right shaped in an oblong in a charmingly irregular fashion. Between her legs was a small triangle of dark curly pubic hair, just as one would expect of a full grown woman.
Sara became restive under my intense stare, unconsciously covering herself with her hands, as if ashamed now to be so blatantly naked in front of me. "No need to by shy," I told her, reaching out for her.
She made a move as if to run, but I had already enclosed her in my fingers, taking hold of her by the torso. From the way she squirmed, it was easy to see she didn't like being carried like this at all. Her hands pushed against my fingers, proving her strength, and forcing me to bend one of her arms back with my other hand.
This could be a problem. I knew I didn't have any real means to keep her secure at this point. If I'd been thinking ahead, I would have already acquired a bird cage or something similar. It wasn't going to be wise to simply leave her to her own devices or I'd likely never see her again. I also couldn't stay up all night taking care of her either.
"You know, I wanted us to be friends," I explained to her, "but, I think you're going to end up hating me for this."
I took Sara back into the main room, stopping at my dresser. Opening the top drawer, I took out a pair of white socks from the disordered pile. With some minor difficulty, I wrapped her chest with one of the socks, pinning her arms to her sides. I then secured it in place with a safety pin. Laying her on the top of the wooden dresser, I then used the other sock to wrap her legs together around the calves, using another safety pin to keep the clean cotton material in place.
The result was certainly effective. Her limbs basically immobilized, she was reduced to squirming uncomfortably, her head tossing from side to side. It was more than a little pathetic, but I hoped I would only need to do this for one night. Tomorrow, I would try and come up with better accommodations for her.
I noticed that, where her chest and legs were mostly covered, I had left her waist and hips bare; in particular, that alluring patch of pubic hair between her legs. I turned her over onto her stomach, so I could see her wonderfully rounded bare ass as well. It never occurred to me until this moment what a completely kinky bondage game I'd come up with, and how vulnerable Sara now was to anything I might want to do.
But, at least right now, I was too tired to do very much at all. Perhaps that was for the best, given the way my mind was turning as I looked at her. Instead, I found an empty shoe box in the corner of my closet, and lined it with a hand towel before putting Sara inside. I didn't put the lid on, since I figured she wouldn't be able to get out in her current state anyway, and I feared it would get too stuffy and awful closed in like that.
I put the box at the foot of my bed then stripped down for sleep. I have a feeling I must have dropped off to sleep very quickly, but all of my dreams were consumed with Sarah -and Sara.
* * *
When I awoke the next morning, my first move was to check on my miniature charge.
She was fast asleep, and I have to assume she spent a great deal of the night struggling with her current situation. But, the bonds I had fashioned for her had remained firm, limiting her movement and keeping her within the box.
I'm sorry I ended up using a shoe box as I did. I simply didn't give her any room to stretch at all, and it was no surprise to see her curled up in a fetal ball. Looking at her laying there, I became aware of a subtle odor. It wasn't strong, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. Bending my face closer I finally recognized it; urine. Unable to do anything else, the poor girl had wet herself, perhaps while she slept.
"Have to think ahead," I muttered to myself, leaving her to nap just a little while longer while I went to my desk and made a number of notations in my journal. Then I went to the kitchen and prepared Sara's bath; filling the sink with pleasantly warm water, laying out a fresh bar of soap and wash cloth.
I rarely second guess myself, but in this case, I knew I was being somewhat conflicted in my motives. By now even this must be clear to those reading this essay. I created Sara as a way of dealing with my frustrated desire for Sarah. But, I would never, and could never have the same relationship with one as the other. Sara was not a person, nor a pet. My instincts were telling me to take care of her with as much attentiveness as a pet or child. But, I made her, and she was mine to do with as I wished regardless of moral imperative. Standing there at the sink, I realized I could bring her in and hold her under the water until she drowned, and I would be responsible to no authority for that act.
It was a thought that caused me to pause. I began this project by playing fast and loose with morality in the first place. How far was I willing to let myself go? Just how dark was my uninhibited side if left to it's own devices?
I returned to the bedside, kneeling down to inspect the still sleeping Sara.
"Alright, let's get your day started," I said softly, unpinning the socks that kept her held tight. In the process, she came awake, sitting up in alarm as I freed her legs. "No need to panic. What say we get you cleaned up?"
Not waiting for an answer, I took her up in both hands and carried her to the waiting sink. During all this, she looked about in a kind of helpless panic, her head nervously tossing from side to side. A could also feel the slight dampness that covered parts of her thighs. She didn't struggle as much as she had before, not even when I finally placed her into the warm water of the nearly full sink. Her feet made squeaking sounds against the clean stainless steel as she turned, arms wrapped protectively around her torso. The water came up to her slender, well defined waist.
"Come on, all the way in," I said, pushing her back so that she lost her footing and ended up taking a good dunking. As she sputtered to catch her breath, wiping her wet hair away from her face, I grabbed the bar of soap and wash cloth and began the lathering process. I held her firmly in place with one hand, back facing me while I passed the soapy cloth over and around her arms and chest. At first, it was in a completely matter-of-fact fashion, rinsing the cloth and adding more soap as I worked her lower limbs, cleaning away the last traces of urine and sweat. It was only when I moved to the area between her legs that she made a fresh attempt at escape, letting out a squeal, her thighs clenching together.
I turned her onto her back, holding her more firmly across the torso while her legs dangled into the water. I stared at the patch of dark hair at her pubis, and realized this was what I'd really been waiting for. Resigned to the fact I'd never glimpse or feel the private places of the real life Sarah, I had remade her in this more fragile form -and now her secrets would be revealed.
"Just relax," I told her, taking her ankle between the fingers of my free hand and lifting her right leg upwards. Sara made an agonized face, straining against my efforts. Her soapy wet body threatened to slip from my grasp.
"Enough of that," I admonished, tilting her back so that her head was forced under the surface. She was in near panic, but there wasn't much she could do, and she quickly realized I was serious and that she'd better relax if she wanted to breathe again. I didn't intend to be cruel beyond reason, and I lifted her back up so she could catch her breath. Coughing and sputtering, her little body heaved in my hand, taking in large gasps of oxygen. I gently wiped her wet hair away from her face before resuming my inspection of her below the waist.
I wasn't a complete stranger to the mysteries of the female genitals, or a virgin for that matter, but there is always a rush of excitement when one sees the private regions of your lover for the first time. I had been lusting for Sarah for so long, this represented a great triumph. Sara let me lift her leg clear, offering me a view of the long sought after cunt, dark coloured labial lips barely hidden beneath her patch of pubic hair. Wetting my lips, I stared for a time, resettling my grip so she lay flat on my palm, her pubis tilted further upwards. Holding her right thigh, I gently used my thumb to part her cuntal lips, exposing the pink shaded interior. Every detail perfectly reproduced.
"Just beautiful," I murmured, taking in the puckered hole of her vaginal opening, and the folded skin covering her unseen clitoris. What would it take to make it a little more prominent, I slyly wondered. I certainly couldn't stand to go this long simply looking. At some point, one must touch.
Laying her down flat on the kitchen counter, she reacted against the comparatively cold surface touching her skin. Not paying attention to this discomfort, I took hold of her legs in each hand, spreading them apart and stroking the inner surface of her thighs with my thumbs. She raised herself on her elbows, watching me intently, her expression one of muted fear.
"It's alright," I assured her in a quiet voice, "I promise I won't hurt you. Trust me. This will feel very good, if I get this right."
I continued to soothe her slick wet skin, my thumbs drifting closer to the centre, where her sex lay waiting. Using the pad of one thumb, I gently rubbed and stroked along her slit, paying particular attention to the ridge of her clit. She made a whimper of complaint, shuffling back slightly, but not far enough out of my range. I made slow circles over her clit, and then used both thumbs to pry open her loose labia. I could see the traces of whitish fluid that escaped from her vagina; vivid proof that she wasn't immune to this kind of stimulation. Bending my head down, I took a sniff of her open cunt, noting that unique scent that only women have between their legs. I spread her cunt lips a little bit further, now exposing the bright tip of her engorged clitoris, just peeking out from it's foreskin. Unable to resist, I bent my head down further and flicked the tip of my tongue up and along it. She let out a startled yelp, and instinctively tried to back away, but my grip on her legs was too strong. I gave a secret smile, knowing now just how much I had gotten to her. I continued my oral assault, using the edge of my tongue to quickly rub back and forth along the length of her slit. Her labia were so loose now I could even taste the juices accumulating in her vagina. That gave me yet another thought.
Backing away, I looked down at her gaping cunt and made a swift mental calculation. By scale, I figured the tip of my little finger would be roughly the size of a well endowed penis. Well, perhaps somewhat larger, but I knew I could do it without hurting her. Wetting my pinky finger with my own saliva, I levelled it upside down and pressed the tip up to her pussy. It refused to slip in easily, but by applying gentle but firm pressure her vagina finally accepted the intruding fingertip inside. Sara let out a loud cry, looking down the length of her body to where my finger was lodged in the space between her legs. Her cunt was obscenely distended, and I gave her a short while to get used to the feeling of penetration before rocking my fingertip back and forth in the motion of copulation.
Her interior was so warm and soft, and made sure to be gentle as I fucked her tender cunt. As her wetness increased, I was even able to invade her up to the second knuckle. Sara's head lay back, eyes closed, her breath coming in laboured gasps. Sensing she was beyond the point of trying to escape, I moved my free hand from her leg to her chest, toying with her flatted breasts. Her naturally pale skin had become reddened over her chest and face, blushing with the sudden rush of sexual excitement.
Sara's hands clenched at her sides, and as her back arched, I knew the inevitable conclusion was at hand. Little wet sounds were coming from the motion of my finger inside her, coming faster now that I increased the pace a touch further. Suddenly she let out a loud series of moans, and her body went stiff all over; the first climax of her existence.
In the wake of Sara's orgasm, I only now fully realized how aroused I was myself, and how I had been unconsciously pressing my hips against the side of the counter. Undignified, to be sure, as anyone who's done anything remotely sexual will tell you, once you get to a certain point it's impossible to stop. Withdrawing my hand from Sara's cunt, I swiftly undid my fly and wrapped my fingers around my erection. It took barely any time at all to give myself one of the strongest orgasms of my life.
* * *
The final solution to Sara's living arrangements came with the purchase of a rabbit cage (forgoing the water bottle, naturally). Looked very sparse at it was, so I created a makeshift cot for her to rest on with a number of folded, clean white socks. My poor solution to the toilet problem came with a plastic soap dish half filled with water. She would have to crouch in an awkward and undignified manner to use it, but at least she wouldn't have to soil herself anymore, and I was sure I could eventually work out a much better rig with some thought.
In the end, I even made some clothes for her, sacrificing a bed sheet for the cause. A pair of scissors and some clothes pins later, and she was clad in a form fitting toga-like affair. I actually quite liked how she looked naked, but it didn't seem right having her like that all the time, and it proved more fun to strip her naked when I felt like it than have her bare all the time.
In that first week, I shared my meals with her, did my studies with her in her cage by my side, and played with her whenever the mood took me. My attempts at teaching her language all failed, but I was convinced she understood my words even if she never spoke any herself. I would try and find new ways to take care of her, such as brushing her teeth and hair (both trickier than one might think), and bathing her every day.
I would be lying if I said I didn't continue to take sexual liberties with her. Having a living breathing woman in the palm of one's had is the best pornography one could hope for. I loved finding interesting and safe ways of penetrating and masturbating her vagina, like the cap to a ball point pen or a Q-tip well moistened with baby oil. I think she came to accept these advances, since she rarely bolted anymore, and often took any position I wanted to make it easier for the both of us. Having her on her hand and knees while I teased and played with her cunt from behind with a finger was a favourite, as was the act of running my tongue up and along her slit. I could easily make her come this way, and I loved hearing her desperate gasps and moans as climax approached. All of these games would eventually lead to my own orgasm, most often achieved with my own hand. She was now used to the sight of my engorged member, but teaching her to rub and stimulate it was beyond my patience at these times. But, on more than one occasion, I would rub my glans over and along her bare back or belly as I stimulated myself, unapologetically letting my ejaculation spurt all over her.
If what we had could be considered a relationship, then thats what it was. I adored Sara to no end, and I had fewer and fewer problems keeping my charge from getting into trouble or attempting to escape. I still used the cage, but beyond that, I didn't need to do a great deal to control Sara. I lot of that was due to the Klein Bottle -like any alchemical creation, it was intimately tied to the one who created her. However twisted this situation may have seemed from the outside, for me, it was all I could have hoped for.
* * *
The beginning of the end came with the re-appearance of Paul. I'd been avoiding pretty much all social contact during this time, so naturally he came to see me. As before, I hadn't planned ahead for visitors, and so when he barged his way in, the first thing he laid eyes on was Sara in her cage.
"I wondered whatever happened to the bottle woman," he chuckled, bending down to peer closer. At least she was wearing her bed sheet kimono, I mentally sighed. This wasn't going to admit to any easy explanations either way.
"Yeah, um, there she is," I shrugged, trying not to make it seem like any big deal.
Sara looked apprehensive, her back to the opposite side of the cage as Paul poked a finger in, waggling it at her.
"Does she talk," Paul asked.
"No, I'm afraid not."
"Too bad. Does she have a name."
"Hadn't thought about it," I lied. "Not really that important."
"Why not name her Sarah?"
Paul glanced back at me, and smiled at what must have been my expression of horror.
"Oh, don't worry, you're secret is safe," he told me. "At least, for now. I knew she looked familiar, but it wasn't until I saw her again just now that my memory twigged. Give her a pair of glasses, and she's a dead ringer. How did you do it? Does she know?"
"No, Sarah doesn't know, of course not," I said, slumping into my seat. "I suppose this puts me in a very bad position, doesn't it?"
"Hey, I'm your friend, I won't tell," he assured me. "But, I think silence on this scale requires a favour in turn, wouldn't you say?"
"I... I suppose so. What did you have in mind?"
Paul looked at Sara with a critical eye, hands braced on either side of the cage in an unmistakably predatory posture.
"Make me one," he said at last, "Make me one of the person of my choice."
I swallowed dryly. In the face of it, I couldn't find any real reason to turn him down.
"Alright, yeah, I can do that for you."
"What do you need from me? Just a strand of hair, something with her DNA, right?"
"Yes, and..." I was about to mention the semen sample, but held back. "No, that will be fine. A bit of hair, a nail, whatever you can find."
I honestly couldn't ask my friend for a sample of his sperm. That would have been too awkward and creepy. At the same time, I realized this meant I would have to use my own -as with Sara. This new creation would in some way be my own offspring, only this time beyond my own control and care. Could I trust Paul with a child of the Klein Bottle? Did I have a choice?
* * *
So, the Klein Bottle was set up once again on my desk top, replacing Sara's cage, which now lay on the floor next to my bed. But, I did often have Sara run free on my desk (the severe height would have prevented any thought of escape, which I don't believe she had). She immediately gravitated to the clear glass container, and would watch with me as this new creation changed and evolved within.
At first, I assumed that Paul would have done as I had, and chosen some girl he might have had a crush on. I hadn't heard of any though, and I'm certain he would have told me if he had. But, as the tiny woman within gained form by inches, I could tell by her tanned skin and dark hair that she must have been Asian, just as Paul was. Granted, this could have meant nothing. With a sickening sensation I did have a sense of who it could be, the only woman of his own ethnicity that played any significant role in his life -his own mother.
If this was true, it wouldn't be easy to tell, since at the height of her growth, she appeared to be in her early to mid twenties. Her slick black hair had grown very long, enveloping her like a blanket. Even towards the end of her growth cycle, she spent most of the time in the bottle in gentle slumber, only occasionally stirring.
I decided against having Paul present during the birthing process, and fortunately he didn't ask to be there, only wishing to get his hands on the finished product as soon as it was available. I also put Sara out of the way, since I would need all the room I could get on my desk. Fortunately, the hour wasn't that late when I deemed it time to bring my new creation into the world. She had reached a size just a touch below Sara's, but the longer she stayed in the bottle, the older she would appear. For reasons alluded to above, I had no desire to see her evolve any further.
The process was much like the previous time, though this time I had the sink already prepared with warm water and soap. When the slender Asian girl finally emerged into real space, I gently picked her up. Face down in my palm, I rubbed her back until she finished coughing out the last of the fluid of life from her lungs. I then carried her to the sink to clean her up, murmuring calming words to her. She was even more well behaved than Sara had been her first time, and gave all appearances of being a very obedient girl indeed. I didn't allow myself to get too acquainted with her, since I knew I wouldn't have her for very long.
Once she had been dried and allowed to rest, I called Paul to have him pick her up. * * *
The next time I ran into Paul, he was very keen and excited. Right from the start I could tell he had something on his mind, and it was a no brainer what it was. He had the chance to live with his little creation for some time now, and I had no doubt he would be eager to share his experiences.
In retrospect, I think Paul had a definite ulterior motive when he sought me out that day. In fact, I think 'ulterior motives' pretty much defined everything he did, but that wasn't something that normally bothered me, at least up 'till now.
But, at this point, I was quite happy to share in the conversation.
"What did you decide to call her?"
"I gave her the name 'R'," Paul answered, "long story, short name. Seems right to me."
Couldn't argue with that.
"Well, I guess I'm glad you're happy with the end result," I said, hoping that the little girl had been well taken care of. I didn't want to ask too many questions about that, at the risk of sounding too possessive or nosey. I did feel a twinge of responsibility for the comparatively fragile girl I helped bring into this world though.
"I think it would be great to get our two together," Paul suggested. "I mean it. Ever see how dogs react when they meet another dog? I wonder what they would do when meeting someone of their own size?"
"I'm willing to bet they won't sniff each other's butts though," I joked.
"They would if we made them do it," Paul smiled.
"Well, I don't know about that," I said, not finding the notion quite as funny. "But, it would be kind of interesting to get them together."
"Thought you might say that," Paul said, patting the blue nylon knapsack he had slung over one arm. "What say we do it right now?"
With that, we made our way to my dorm.
* * *
As it turned out, Paul had been carrying her in that knapsack. Unzipping it open, he took out a loosely rolled white towel. Unwrapping it, he let the frail figure stumble out and onto the desktop.
When I first saw R, I was shocked. Her hair had been cut short to the shoulder in a crude and rugged manner. She sported obvious bruises to her torso and legs. I got the sense that her left arm might have been sprained or fractured from the unusual way she held it. Her eyes were darker than they should have been, and her entire cast was haggard and defeated.
"A bit worse for wear," I remarked, not doing my best to disguise my discomfort at what I was seeing.
"Ah, they're tougher than they look. Just like cats. Don't always land on their feet though, and occasionally need a bit of correction, if you know what I mean."
At that, he took out something else he had in this knapsack; a twelve inch long wooden dowel, which he smacked against his palm. R immediately coward just at the sound it made.
"Didn't bother with any clothes," I noted.
"Nah, not much point in that," Paul shrugged.
I held out my finger to R, but she didn't seem to recognize me.
"What say we put these two together," Paul suggested. "I think we should get this game started."
I didn't see any reason not to, and I admit to being curious as to how these two would interact at their own level. Opening the latch on the cage, Paul lowered R inside. The naked woman looked about her with apprehension, while Sara greeted the new arrival with a guarded but hopeful smile.
"Let playtime begin," Paul mouthed quietly.
R stepped forward, and much to both Sara's and my surprise, wrapped her arms around her back and planted a wide kiss on Sara's mouth. Sara immediately pushed the other woman away, running to the opposite side of the cage. R looked over at Paul, as if to silently say, 'well, I tried.'
"Go on, get her," Paul ordered, thrusting his wooden dowel through the bars and into R's back, forcing her forward.
R landed forcefully on Sara, bringing the two down in a heap on the cotton sock cot. Paul and I watched on as R, despite being shorter, retained the dominant position, holding Sara down by her wrists. She bent down and forcibly kissed the struggling Sara. It was all happening so fast, I couldn't figure out what in the world was happening. Paul, however, appeared very pleased with the course of events, having apparently expected this result. He must have instructed R before hand -no doubt that wooden dowel playing some role in that, accounting for her wretched physical condition. But this brutality had inspired a desperate strength in the smaller R, and she sat on top of Sara, tearing the sheet off her body.
"This is so cool," Paul enthused. "In the mood for placing bets?"
"Placing bets on what?" I muttered.
R held Sara down by keeping one hand on her throat, while at the same time molesting her modest breasts. Finally R turned Sara over, twisting one arm behind her back to retain control, and reached down to thrust a hand in between Sara's legs. Sara let out a pain filled cry, legs scissoring against her violation.
"I would have thought Sara'd put up more of a fight," Paul remarked. "Must be used to rough treatment, I guess. I know how that goes."
By this time I'd had enough. However Paul had engineered it, R was in the middle of raping by dear Sara, and I couldn't stand to see anymore of it. Quickly re-opening the cage, I pulled R off and handed her back to Paul.
"What'd you do that for," Paul asked with rough indignation.
"Why do you think," I replied, turning back to tend to Sara, who still lay as R left her on the cot. She didn't appear to be greatly harmed, but the way she looked up at me in bewilderment and confusion spoke to how much she'd been affected.
"I don't know how long these little guys are meant to last," Paul said as he put R back into his backpack. "But, I'm guessing I might have to get you to make me another one before too long."
"I wouldn't count on that," I said flatly. "I suggest you just take care of R the best you can."
"Is that right," Paul said, eyebrow arched. "Well, in that case, you should take very good care of yours as well. You never know who might come to call next time."
* * *
As I feared, the end wasn't far off. As I knew from the past, Paul was a man given to fits of petulance and petty revenge. Having been his friend, I had never been the focus of this, and usually chose to ignore this darker side. But, it was clear to me that some line had been crossed, and I should expect the worst. And, as he said, I never knew who could come to call when the doorbell rang a handful of days later.
When I answered the door, I was struck silent by the sight of Sarah K. She was dressed in a long dark coloured cloak, arms folded across her torso in a protective manner, head low. It were as if this was the last place in the world she wanted to be, yet here she was. I didn't know what to say, and there passed a fairly long moment of silence.
"I, um..." I finally stammered, still at a loss for words.
"I already know," she said solemnly. "At least, I know what I've been told. I still can't believe it. It isn't true, is it? It couldn't be. You have to tell me."
I hesitated, but I couldn't look into Sarah's face and blatantly lie. I still had no real words to say, so I simply stepped back and allowed her to enter my apartment. How many times in the past had I dreamed about having this lithe young woman come inside? However, in present circumstances, this was about the worst thing that could possibly happen.
Her reaction was exactly as one might expect. On first sight of Sara, Sarah's hand leapt to her mouth as she let out a shocked gasp. I think she might have froze in that position for the longest time, if it wasn't for Sara. She seemed to recognize her genetic progenitor, and came to stand up close to the bars of her cage, staring up at her.
"How can this be," Sarah wondered aloud, crouching down so that her face was level with the cage, her eyes watering behind her glasses. She was clearly horrified, but finally curiosity caught up with her. She poked a finger through the thin wire bars, touching Sara for the first time, as if to confirm that she was real.
"I, um, I'm sure I can explain all this," I lamely floundered, making a vague gesture with my hand.
"I don't even want to know," Sarah spat, rising back to her feet. "If she's me, she's mine. I'm taking her with me."
That was pretty much all that need be said. I should have been glad this was the worst punishment Sarah decided to level. She wrapped the rabbit cage in her cloak, hugging the contraption close to her chest as she rose to leave.
"I honestly don't know how to apologize," I said, hanging back. "It wasn't done to ..."
"I said I don't want to know," Sarah cried, close to the edge of tears. Needless to say, I didn't stop her as she smuggled little Sara out of my apartment, and I dare say out of my life for good.
* * *
This wasn't the end of the story. Roughly two weeks later I got a phone call. It wasn't completely unexpected, but even when it came I was surprised and elated.
"I think she's dying," I heard a voice say. "It's like she's wasting away. I don't know what to do."
"Sarah?"
"Yes, it's me," she said, voice filled with panicked desperation. "You have to tell me what to do!"
"It's alright. I thought this might happen. It's likely separation anxiety," I explained. It was part of the process of the Klein Bottle, and the genetic ties that went into her creation. As I wrote here earlier, it wasn't the same as cloning.
"Seper.. what??"
"It's OK, doesn't matter," I said. "I know what to do. Will you let me come over. I have something to give her."
I glanced over at the package that sat to one side on my desk. There was a pause as Sarah considered this option.
"Alright, come as quick as you can," she finally assented.
* * *
Showing up at Sarah's door, I shifted the large box I was carrying over to one arm as I rang the bell. Within short order, it opened, and she let me inside. Sarah appeared upset, but deliberately reserved in my presence. She nervously resettled her glasses over and over, leading me into her living room. In terms of layout and size, it turns out the women's dorms weren't that different from the guy's after all. Had to admit Sarah's was much nicer, at least in terms of the elegant wooden furniture, though the clutter of papers and books wasn't that different from mine. A student was a student regardless of gender.
"It's like she isn't eating or anything," Sarah hopelessly explained. "But I've been feeding her. I've done everything right. I can't figure it out."
Sara's cage was set in the middle of the room on top of a spacious round coffee table. She was sitting in the middle of the bare plastic floor of her container, knees drawn up to her legs, head down. It had been so long since I'd laid eyes on her. I quietly stepped forward, not wishing to startle her, but it wasn't long before she noticed my presence. She stood up, and I noticed that Sarah had managed a better job than I at dressing her, since she now sported a reasonably well stitched blue shift dress. Despite this, she didn't look all that well. However, once she caught sight of me, she eagerly stood up, green eyes shinning bright.
"That's right, it's me," I said softly, setting down the cardboard box. I lifted the top flap and reached inside. "Can you open the cage for me, Sarah?"
Sarah nodded, frowning with concern at what I was about to do. Opening the cage, she stood to one side and watched with Sara as I lifted the foot tall naked male figure from inside and gently placed him into the cage.
Sara's eyes widened, and she nearly ran into his arms, hugging him as tightly as I'd ever seen anyone embrace their lover. He was startled by this sudden reception, but raising a hand to gently hold the back of her head, he returned her affectionate hug.
"It's you," Sarah marveled, shaking her head in disbelief. "You made yourself."
I nodded.
"In this midst of creating Sara, I nearly forgot the second half of the equation," I said, as if to explain. "I meant to all along. I thought it was the only way we two could be together. A foolish thing, I know, and unforgivable. But, at the very least, I hope they can find some of the happiness that I hoped to share."
Sarah was still looking at the two miniature representations of ourselves, probably still too overwhelmed to properly understand or appreciate what I was saying. Come to that, did I even fully understand it all myself? If there were any answers to be had, it must reside in the two figures holding each other in the cage.
"Promise me you'll let me know if they happen to have any children," I asked before leaving.
Sarah looked back at me, startled, but another look back at the table and I think she understood.
"I will."
And that, for all intents and purposes, is the end of the story -at least for now.