DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

First, there was the woodland trail, and birds singing in every tree. Jillian felt the dirt of the path between her toes, and her father's hand was warm in her own, large and calloused; comfortably, protectively cradling her small fingers.

'Daddy, where is the witch's house? Can we see the gingerbread on it?'

'Honey-sweet, it's just a little ways further on, just around that bend up there, do you see it?'

Jillian peered ahead into the dark green gloom. 'Sure, daddy?'

'I'm sure, honey. It's your birthday, so we're going to eat gingerbread. Let's go find it, okay?' And with that he swung her laughing hysterically up onto his shoulders. Her father strode down the path, strong, young and confident, carrying his daughter effortlessly. The summer woods all around were silent and still.

They came to a clearing, and there, just as her father had promised, was the gingerbread house. Maybe it was a bit smaller than the fairy story had said, and no witch was to be seen, but it was gingerbread, with icing and candy shutters and cookie shingles and marzipan doors, and her mommy was there, and her little sister too, all standing around the miniature house.

'Happy Birthday, sweetheart', said her father as he swung her down. Jillian ran across the soft grass toward the house. 'Daddy, it's just like the fairy story, isn't it?' 'Didn't I say so, darling?' he replied. 'Oh, yes Daddy, it's bootiful!' He smiled and knelt down, and her mother knelt on her other side.

'Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday...'

The sky flamed. The long shadows under the trees vanished in a glare of hot yellow, blink-blink, and her mother screamed, throwing her arms around Jillian. Her daddy yelled in surprise, and with a force she'd never known before he threw his wife and Jillian down onto the cool, aromatic earth, shielding them with his body. The ground began to dance, and through the woodland came the satanic roar, and the trees whipped insanely, and the sky burned, and the shards of gingerbread bounced wildly on the rolling ground.

___________________

She awakened. That fucking day, she thought. All gone in a day. God. Slowly her trembling eased. It was twenty years ago, and now she came out of sleep in this year of grace 2096. Twenty years since the world ended. She hadn't known then that the madmen across the sea would decide to trigger their long-hidden hellbombs, each secreted away in an American city; nor had she known of the response which had devastated the greater part of two other continents. All she had known was that her gingerbread house had died, and when the ground stopped shaking her mother had lain still, eyes open, head lolling oddly, and her father, face graven of stone, had wept and wept beside her, and her young sister had never moved, not at all, even though her eyes were closed as if she slept, covered by the massive tree limb which has smashed her down.. At last, her father had gathered young Jillian to him, saying never a word, and walked through the shattered wood toward their home. Far away, on !
the orange horizon, flames had leapt.

Her father had survived, long enough to walk and walk and walk from their home, with a rucksack on his back carrying compressed food and Jillian on his shoulders, far away and far away, to his friends in the country—'business friends', he called them—who took him and her in. He had died soon after, worn out by grief and exhaustion. After that the bad years started, when the weather was strange, and crops would not grow, and her new 'Aunt and Uncle' looked anxiously out whenever the winds were in the west, from where the city had once been. As Jillian grew older, she began to hear the stories: entire populations starved in the surviving cities; strange cancers afflicting young and old alike; monstrous births which lived a matter of days or hours, mercifully. The invisible death lay on the land, altering genes, warping bodies, affecting minds.

By the time she was twenty, the world before her birthday was a fading dream of peace and plenty and love. Her rural district had escaped the worst effects, and in time her foster aunt and uncle sent her to learn. 'Learn all you can', they said. 'It's all we have left. If humanity is going to survive, we must preserve the knowledge, and we must find a way to overcome this curse'.

So Jillian learned. She learned in the primary school, and in the high school, taught by volunteers. She attended the local agricultural college where aging chemicals lurked in slowly rusting containers. She learned genetics. She learned agronomy. She learned how the radiation had created a deadly legacy that outlived the blasts. She learned, while one by one the hydrogen-powered autos stopped working, and the electric grid became ever less reliable.

And then, one day, two years ago, the survey team had come to the district. For long years communication with the outside world had been restricted to occasional, precious forays made by hydrogen-powered cars, but as the means to make more pure hydrogen failed, the cars sat idle. Lately they'd used horses—right back to the 19th century, she thought bitterly. But then the newcomers had arrived, in a hoverplane of all things, descending from the heavens like gods, broadcasting their advent via shortwave, and landing outside Brentley, the largest remaining village in the area.

What a day that had been. Five men and women had climbed out of the plane's hatch, each neatly dressed in zipsuits, each bearing a patch emblazoned 'United States'—a name of nearly mythic significance. The old men had wept, the young had stared blankly. They were polite enough, though very formal. The team needed no provision; indeed, they shared what they brought—compressed, self-heating foods not seen for two decades. And they asked questions: who ruled the district? What was the population now? Five years ago? Ten? Twenty? Were there any records of local radiation levels? How many stillbirths in the last year? Were the men fertile? The women? With each pessimistic answer the extent of the catastrophe was borne in on the assembled locals. Young Tom over by Fairlee, he was known because he could sire children, and him only eighteen, but almost no other young men could. And the children: well, sir, the young ones, born after The Day, they were often, well...something was !
wrong. You just knew those that weren't going to be okay. Will Sanford, he had no immune system, and he lived about five days; and there was little Caren, who grew up, but she had no intelligence at all, and just stared vacantly. And there were Bill Owens' boys, one born without arms, the other seemed to be fine, but he went completely insane when he was ten and had finally thrown himself into the river and died. And the dreary litany went on, and the neatly dressed men and women took notes, speaking quietly into their recording equipment.

On the last day, the survey team had asked the village headman if he knew of any 'capable, intelligent' young men or women who might want to help in the work of recovery. Jillian was called in from her work at the college and offered the opportunity to leave with the team.

'It's important work, Miss Camacho', the team leader said. 'We're trying to stitch society back together. Nothing less. And we see this same pattern over and over: falling populations, technology loss, resource depletion. Within twenty years your home district will be back to the days of plagues and witchcraft. We're trying to stop the decay, and you have a decent background in genetics. We NEED people like you to help us help everyone else.

'We can give you more education, and the chance to make a difference. What we manage to achieve will be spread by teams like ours across the old territories of the United States. Maybe—if we're lucky—we'll build a better society. But we need everyone we can get, now. The US had 350 million people before the attack. We had 190 million after. A year later, it was down to 40 million. Five years, down to 10 million. We now estimate that, what with lack of medicine, mutational disorders, infertility, and the like, we'll have fewer than six million, and still not stable, within another two years. And to be blunt, the rest of the world is no better off.'

She took the offer.

Jillian lay in her bed, listening to the soft susurration of the blowers, recovering from her recurring nightmare. Here, in the heart of the Vasquez Genetic Research Center she was at home, and it had been so for two years. Good food, and plenty of it; educated, intelligent, committed coworkers; and a view of the world much larger than anything she'd known at home. Here, at least, technological civilization continued. When she'd arrived she'd been surprised by the smallness of the facility—perhaps 100 souls labored here, trying desperately to undo the damage wrought by the deadly dust. She'd been assigned to a team whose sole role had been to research therapies that might repair the gaps and tears in the double helix. They possessed enormous resources: the accumulated knowledge of two centuries lay in the reclaimed data cores; and the computers were very nearly sentient in their own right. Yeah, the wisdom of the ancestors, she thought bitterly. We're feeding on it like!
parasites, hardly knowing what they achieved, or how, just praying that the datasets will provide an answer if we play with them in the right way. Parasites. And she turned, and slept, in this year 2096.

Jillian was awake early the next day; she always arose early, as if to make the most of what time there was—and time was growing short indeed. Though radiation levels had steadily decreased, the population was decreasing too, victim to ancient diseases and famine. Step on a rusty nail, and die. Catch a bad cold, and live in fear that you might take to bed, never to leave it again. If the insects ate your silage, you might have no fodder for your cows. It was becoming 'positively medieval out there', as Lucy, her team leader, once said in bitter frustration.

The research establishment was divided into two groups. One, the Alternative Strategies team, led a rather secluded, secretive existence to one side of the fenced compound out in the Arizona desert. The other, Genetic Remediation, was Jillian's group. Their assigned task was to collate data—human genome data—from the salvaged datacomps removed, often at great risk, from the wrecked universities. Some—much—of the data was hopelessly garbled by gamma radiation; others had to be painfully pieced together. It was like working a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces were scattered throughout the countryside. What data was successfully collated was copied to the A/S group for further study, and Jillian's team attempted to use it to work on therapies which might repair the torn strands and skeins of the population's genes. Much had been done prewar in the field of recombinants; some had been salvaged. Of that data, all had been copied to the A/S group, whose members' evasiveness and aloof!
behaviour made them generally unpopular.

Another morning in the communal refectory; if nothing else, the teams ate well. Probably some foodprep were salvaged, she thought. Wonder how long before they die too? Ron sat at the next table. Ron, the assured. Ron the arrogant. Ron the ass. Jillian despised him: Ron was fit, athletic, self-assured, and effortless in his offhand put-downs. He caught her glance, raised his coffee cup in ironic greeting, and went back to his reports, for all the world as if she didn't exist.

Jack at least was nice; she gathered he'd lost his beloved to some illness a few years back. He never said much; a self-contained strength lay within him, though. They worked together on the sequencing, trying to make sense of the old data. As if the thought called the man, Jack sat down opposite her. 'Morning, Jack'.

'Hi, Jillian. What's new today?'

'Nothing, really. Another fun day, huh?'

'Yeah, well, I'll be in the trenches with you, Jillian. Um, look, later on I'm going to go out to the desert, you know, just to hike. Got to clear my head, you see'. He smiled uncertainly. 'So I was wondering if you'd like to come with, if you aren't busy?'

She smiled. 'Yes, I'll come. Where to?'

'Just about five miles out to those cliffs up north. I think they may have some old Amerindian dwellings, and it's kind of a hobby. Weird, huh? Not very useful these days.'

'It's not weird at all. Say about four? We should have enough light 'til nine or so at this time of year; maybe two hours out, two back, and an hour there.'

The hike was pleasant; Jack liked her, that was plain. He looked at her with pleasure. Not much to see, anyway. I'm skinny as a rail, black hair, I look like some wild Indian woman. Once or twice she caught herself admiring his easy stride and unflappable approach to all obstacles.

When they returned, he stood close to her in the desert twilight. 'Thank you for coming, Jillian. Nobody has wanted to, before.' Quickly, shyly, he kissed her on the cheek, blushed, and hurried off. She stood looking after him. I like you too, Jack. A lot. You're like—well, like my dad the way I remember him.

The next day, the one which changed her life, started out routinely enough. At breakfast, Ron came over to her. 'Hiya, Jilly', he said. 'Listen, Dr. Lai, our director, asked me to ask you to come see her today, around 1:30. Can do?'

'Uh, yeah, sure. Why?'

'Oh, if I told you it'd be no secret, and 'sides, then I'd have to kill you.' He laughed madly. Nutcase, she decided.

After lunch she walked across the compound to the A/S complex, a set of low white adobe-cladded buildings which housed the personnel, research labs, and offices. She was directed to Lai's office, a plain affair containing only a Spartan desk, a handcomp and monitor, a diploma from some long-vaporized university, and a few books, of all things. Perhaps she liked antiques?

Lai stood. 'Jillian Camacho? Karen Lai. Thank you for coming; please, sit down.

'Did Ron say anything? No? Good. Well, let me keep this short. As you know, our teams are trying to find ways to remedy the drastic damage done to the gene pool. Without some cure, we'll see the proportion of healthy adults continue to decrease, and as the population dies off, the ability to maintain a technic civilization will diminish. We estimate, absent intervention, that the tip-over may be as little as two to five years away. In that space, we must somehow create a healthy gene pool, so that in 15 to twenty years we have a post-war generation of fully healthy young adults. We will still be around to teach them, but we cannot wait too much longer, or the last pre-war survivors will be dying too fast to pass on our knowledge to any new generation.'

She flicked her hand at the comp, which lit up obediently. 'This is a graph of current trends'—pointing to an amber line which angled sharply down, then stabilized almost at the graph's bottom—'this is if your group finds a cure in the next five years'—the blue line was nearly the same as the amber. 'And this is what we've been working on'. A red population line that dipped, stabilized in five years, and began to climb again—steeply.

'Your team has been trying to sequence the human genome so we can study it and find possible gene replacement strategies. Frankly, progress is a lot slower than we'd hoped. Don't be defensive; this is simple fact, no reflection on your group. We cannot wait another 10 years hoping for a breakthrough. Too much research yet to do.

'Our group has been using what data you have sent us, along with gene modification work done pre-war, to come up with what we think is a viable alternative...'

REPORT SUMMARY, ALTERNATIVE STRATEGIES RESEARCH GROUP, 12 NOVEMBER 2096

Vasquez' initial goal was to find some means to repair the genetic damage within the larger US population. To that end we have been given priority of materiel and personnel by what remains of the US government and local entities. We regret to say that this strategy, while promising in the long term, will not meet its targets. We possess too little coherent data and lack the necessary expertise to engineer pan-specific cures. Moreover, even when the genome is fully identified once more, we expect curative research to occupy several more years.

To address this scenario, the Alternative Strategies team was founded. This team, working with available data and utilizing pre-war research into radical genetic modification, notably those used to cure genetic maladies such as cystic fibrosis, eg, has proposed a second solution. Rather than relying on possible cures for the existing genetic structure, this team proposes to use healthy genes as a template, to modify the gene carriers to be able to quickly replicate their genes, and thus to create a viable healthy population. In summary, rather than curing the sick, we propose to use nature's own resources—a healthy gene pool—by modifying select characteristics in the healthy twenty percent of the populace to achieve a higher reproductive rate.

'So you want, um, any healthy women and men to, well, get laid a lot and have a lot of kids? It sounds fun, I suppose, but...'

'Yes, sort of, Jillian. But just getting unaffected men and women together won't do it. Population will continue to drop, rapidly. Think of it: successful pregnancy requires a man and a woman who are attracted to each other, and the characteristics which create attraction are incredibly complex. You might like one man, and another woman dislikes him. Much of it is based on biochemistry.

'Moreover, you have to like each other enough to want to sleep together. Then, you have to do so often enough that you become pregnant, assuming that you WANT to become pregnant. And in this world of ours, overall health is not always optimal for ensuring successful pregnancy, either. Meantime, assuming that one male makes on female pregnant, our social mores are such that she won't want him off impregnating other women. And so on. Basically, all these factors put a hard brake on any chance of 'sleeping together' being the solution.'

'What, then?'

'We propose something different...'

APPENDIX C: PROPOSAL, ALTERNATIVE STRATEGIES GROUP, KAREN E. LAI, MD.

...this strategy would require use of undamaged volunteers to test those genetic and psychological modifications we have settled upon. The full programme is expected to require approximately two weeks, during which trial period the subject would be provided a daily oral dosing of targeted genetic modification agents. It is expected that the subject would initially feel some flu-like symptoms as his/her body acclimatized to a group of radically different gene structures, but that this would disappear as the body assimilated to and was modified by those structures. Each such agent would target specific genetic sequences and modify them to create a new organism capable of rapid, successful reproduction. Such changes, in metabolism, endocrine, immune, respiratory, pheromonal, and above all reproductive systems would require high caloric intake, a carefully monitored environment, and daily adjustment of targeted doses. The conversion is designed to be quick, for ease in administr!
ation in the field to targeted healthy individuals. Key areas would include in both sexes:

Higher oxygen uptake, providing rapid metabolic usage of calories for both the conversion process and for prolonged sexual activity afterward. The subject would experience this as a feeling of well being.

Significant strengthening of key muscle groups and organs, specifically the cluster of pelvic muscles, vaginal/penile support, etc.

Modification to blood chemicals to dramatically enhance arousal states and shorten arousal time. Target would be to create in female subject a susceptibility to arousal by mere proximity to a modified male, while feeling no arousal around unmodified males (to avoid impregnation by genetically-damaged individuals). The same would of course be true of modified males

Re-activation of the pheromonal system, which is moribund in humans. This, too, would result in greater, more frequent arousal and most likely would act to suppress any inhibitions.

Targeted modification to suppress overall inhibitory mechanism. We anticipate that this would result in subject losing conscious control or direction of his/her activities prior to mating, leading to spontaneous breeding activity.

Greatly increased sensitivity in vagina, labia, penis, breasts (both sexes) face, lips, throat, neck, and stomach. Increased sensitivity in other areas of body.

Rapid replenishment of semen in males by greatly accelerated production; this would target the male testes.

Negligible refraction times in male and female, both by strengthening physical and chemical response and by strengthening muscles and organs. Modelling indicates that in males it is possible to reduce refraction period to practically nil; the rapid generation of semen would leave the male physically exhausted afterward and in need of fluid replenishment, eg water.

Modification of overt sexual attributes: in men, somewhat greater penile size in order to provide further pleasure to their partners and themselves; in women, growth of breasts to provide, primarily, adequate milk to their offspring and, during mating, pleasure to themselves and their partners. Increased body fat on female's hips buttocks, to provide energy reserves for healthy pregnancy. The 'hourglass' look, or that of a well-toned, fit gymnast is the goal.

Multiple, highly intense orgasm. This provides a strong incentive in both sexes to mate regularly and for prolonged periods, optimizing chances of impregnation. Estimated orgasmic response should be somewhere around 350% that of unmodified human norms.

In summary, by a careful, well-planned targeting of key systems, we hope to modify healthy human stock to mate often, without fear or modesty, with multiple partners, without conscious volition. The mere presence of a modified member of the opposite sex, assuming both are not recently mated, should be enough to trigger a constellation of reactions leading to intense, prolonged and repeated mating activity.

'...and that's it. We propose to create a human type which is optimal for rapid production of a healthy next generation'.

Fear grew in her. 'Why did you want to speak to me?'

'You are genetically healthy, Jillian. We need a volunteer for the process. Mind, it's reversible and painless.'

'But...'

'The subject would be treated to the various modifications, which take about two weeks. We'd then run some response tests in a controlled setting, obtain the results, then reverse the process. That's it.'

'This is too much. I mean, I'm the wrong girl for this. I don't even like taking off my clothes to take a shower when others are around, you know? I'm shy, and always have been.'

'Yes, I know, Jillian. The whole thing is private—you and two attending medicos, that's it, throughout the conversion process.'

They talked; about the world, about the chances for species survival, about Jillian's young childhood. They talked. At the end of it Jillian promised to return next day with her answer.

'I need to speak to someone, too'.

'Jack, you mean? Fine—but you cannot tell him about the project.'

'But if I accept, he'll wonder where I've gone'.

'If you accept, tell him you'll be away on detached assignment for about three weeks'.

That day she and Jack talked.

'Do you think we have a chance, Jack?'

'Us, or the world?'

'The world. People.'

'I don't know. I don't. I think that if things continue as they have, we're washed up. We're in a losing race right now.' He looked away, toward the hills. 'We'll end up with a medieval society which has lost all we've spent centuries to gain; they'll be hiding in their huts whenever a thunderstorm comes'.

'If there's another way, should we take it?'

'Yes, of course. IS there another way?'

'I don't know. But Jack, I've been offered some...detached duty for a few weeks on a project. I can't discuss it, but I think I'll take it.'

'I'll miss you, you know. Will you see me as soon as you come back? I—well, I'm falling in love with you. I didn't think that, after my fiancé died, that I ever could again.'

She kissed him.

That afternoon she returned to Lai's office.

'I'll do it if you can answer some questions. First, does this hurt?'

'No; we expect some aspects to be very pleasant.'

'Is it reversible?'

'Yes; in part. You will experience some outward changes, such as larger breasts, that cannot be reversed.'

'Larger? Like how?'

'The aim is to create a female who can healthily carry a pregnancy to term and provide sustenance afterward. Breast size would vary from person to person, but somewhere around 34 to 38, I'd guess. Hips increase, too—roughly 35-37.'

'And it won't hurt?'

Lai smiled faintly. 'No; for the first day or two you might feel a bit under the weather as your body adjusted to some radical genetic changes; after that you would feel very well, in fact'.

'Okay; I'll do it. I don't see any other options left. Do you?'

'No. None at all.'

'I'm scared to death, but I'll do it. When does this start?'

'Let's start now, Jillian'. Lai rose and walked down the corridor. At its end was a door, an airlock actually. She tapped a passcode, and the door swung open. Beyond was another corridor. To one side was a darkened room containing multiple holocomps. A technician sat before one, using small hand movements to control some unknown process.

They passed through another lock. 'Here's where you'll live; quite nice, really', Lai said. 'Kitchen/dining, a nice bedroom, entertainment area, shower and bath.'

'No windows, though'.

'No windows. This is a secure facility.'

At the other end of the living area was a third lock. This one was open. They walked through and were greeted by two medicos; the taller was even thinner than Jillian and perhaps the same age. 'Jillian, this is Dr. Mary Wilson'—that was the taller—'Dr. Elizabeth Swinley. They'll oversee everything. I'll leave now, but I'll see you after, okay? Thank you again. This should give us invaluable data.' She smiled briefly, nodded perfunctorily, and left.

'Jillian?' Wilson spoke. 'Could you come this way, please?' She led them into a small exam room: table, some autodoc equipment, and a chair. 'Please remove your clothes and sit on the table.'

Jillian felt her customary shyness. Oh, for heaven's sake, they're doctors. She took off her tunic, then her trousers. 'Bra and panties too, please'. She slipped out of her bra. Not much to see here anyway, she thought. 32Bs. Too much hard living and not good enough genes. Hmph. She removed her panties. Even my hips are nearly like a man's. That's what hard living, not enough food, and...bad genes...get you.

She sat. 'Close your eyes, please'. She heard a hum from the nearby equipment and felt the faintest tingling. A deep-scan, I imagine. They're getting all my biometric data. A minute passed. 'All done', Wilson said.

Jillian opened her eyes and looked at the wall mirror across from the table. She saw a 29-year old woman, middle height, slim—too slim, she thought—jet black hair, straight nose and coppery skin from her Hispanic ancestors. Tired dark eyes. I'd be pretty if I added some weight and didn't look so worn out. Welcome to the world, babe.

Wilson turned from the autodoc, holding a glass of aquamarine liquid. 'This is it, Jillian.'

'What is it?'

'Well, basically, it's a compound of many different specific modification agents. Virtually ever major system will be affected, so you'll feel a bit under the weather for a day or two. You'll get a dose each day; the compounds will vary depending upon your progress and the stage you've reached. Drink up.'

She took the glass. This is scary. Better just to...she swallowed it in two gulps. The taste was slightly sweet.

'Okay, all done, Jillian.' Wilson handed her a gown of soft gray fabric. 'Wear this. You'll find it more comfortable, particularly as you go through the process'. She donned it. 'We'll keep your clothes for you. We'll see you each day at 1500; just wait outside the lock at that time'. She led Jillian back into the living area. 'They did you proud, for sure', she said, looking at the catalog of bookvids, holovids, music. 'Now, you'll feel very hungry soon. That's your body needing fuel—lots of it—to power the changes. Eat all your food, okay?'

Jillian nodded.

'See you tomorrow.' She walked back into the exam area, and the lock hissed shut behind her. Wilson turned to her colleague and handed her Jillian's clothes. 'Take these, would you?'

'When will we return them to her?'

'I think that, in a short time, Jillian won't miss them—ever again.'

Jillian sat down in the entertainment area. She tried to relax, but random thoughts kept intruding. What are they doing to me? I won't really change much, will I? They never really went into great detail about it. So are my tits supposed to become a little firmer, or something? Will I want to have sex once in a while? I haven't been with a man since Jason when I was thirteen, and that was just a quick thing. Maybe it's a mental block. 'Commitment, fear of', huh? Better just to masturbate and not worry about anyone else. Maybe my libido will be a little enhanced. That'd be great if Jack and I stayed together. Jack. What a wonderful man. I wish I'd kissed him longer. We're both so scared though, aren't we? I wonder, if I'd met him and there'd never been a war, would we have just had a normal relationship?

She awakened from her half-doze. Time had passed; two hours? Three? She felt a bit queasy, and went to lie down on the bed. She burrowed under the covers.

DAY ONE: Subject felt first symptoms of what is, in essence, a large scale quasi-viral invasion of her system. While all efforts have been made to minimize discomfort, some will inevitably result as body reflexively attempts to fight off an alien presence. However, the quasi-viral agents should be able to overcome this resistance and begin modification within a few hours.

She awakened. She felt awful; barely able to get out of bed, headache, sore all over. She went to the kitchen and instructed the foodcomp to get some orange juice. A small glass immediately appeared in the dispenser. 'LARGE, please', she said, and with a disappointed whirr the comp obediently presented her with one large glass of juice. She drank it, went back to bed, and slept until 1500.

Wilson awakened her. They performed a short exam, pronounced her healthy, and let her return to rest.

DAY TWO: Subject experienced discomfort throughout day. Deepscan reveals subject's body has already accepted agents across full spectrum of target areas. Massive increase in caloric needs anticipated. Subject will sleep very soundly tonight as her body is already beginning to respond to 'instructions' from the genetic reprogramming. First stage conversion symptoms present: muscle growth commencing in several areas. First signs of mammary modification will be felt as soreness in nipples as breasts begin to respond to genetic recoding instructions.

She awakened. She felt better. Far better. The ache was gone, and she was hungry. She felt more alive than she had in years, and went into the kitchen for a meal. The comp presented her with an enormous breakfast. I can't eat this, she thought, and settled for some toast and juice. But the omelette looked tasty, and she finished it off, too—and the cereal, and ham, and more toast, and another omelette. I've never been so hungry before.

DAY THREE: Oxygen uptake increasing; subject experiences this as a feeling of well-being. In combination with increased caloric intake, this will fuel all further changes to subject's body systems. Calory count: 7200 today.

She awakened and felt the soreness. Her nipples ached—a dull, yet bearable sensation—as the gown's fabric pressed against them. She sat up in bed, feeling more alert than she'd ever felt in the morning, and let the gown slip down. Her breasts looked the same. Jillian cupped them, feeling their weight. No difference—the same as on any other of hundreds of mornings. No fuller, either. She gently caressed her nipples, rubbing them thoughtfully. Tender, definitely. She stood up and let the gown drop to the floor, and strode over to the quarters' full-length mirror. The image reflected in it was the same as always though, as she examined her face, she thought that she looked more rested than she had in months. Her skin looked less fatigued, more healthy. She walked to the shower. I'm really shy about this, she thought. I hope nobody is watching me when I'm nude. Maybe they can just stop now, and I can go back to Jack....

Jillian stepped in; the cubicle sensed her presence and the water came on, hot and refreshing. She stood in its flow, enjoying the sensation. The liquid cascaded down, caressing her skin sensuously, flowing across her shoulders, onto the gentle swell of her tits, washing across her nipples. She leaned back against the wall, enjoying the sensation. I wish Jack was here, she thought. I'd love to be showering with him...where did that come from? The water sluiced across her nipples, heat meeting tenderness and soothing it, stroking, like lips gently suckling and kneading. Jillian cupped her breasts, holding them firmly, letting the water wash across, and looked down. Her nipples were hardening under the water's stimulus, and she watched in fascination. Experimentally she lightly pinched each nipple, teasing them, and a sudden wave of lust surged from them deep into her breasts, and down, down through her being, so that she clasped her thighs together against a powerful surge !
of electric pleasure. She dropped her hands, but it felt so good that, without thinking, she brought them back up and slowly, carefully began to knead each nipple, pressing with her palms, her fingers beginning to clasp her tits more forcefully. Her head relaxed against the shower wall, and waves of pleasure surged outward. Oh Jack, I want to make love to you, I want your hands on me, I want you inside me so badly, oh baby, please take me...Jill realized she was murmuring aloud. Oh, I can't stop, it feels so good, so good, press it harder, suckle me Jack, make me yours, my tits feel so incredible, oh yes yes yes...she orgasmed, her knees buckling, waves of ecstasy sweeping through her, a living fire.

Jillian knelt on the shower floor. God, that was better than I ever imagined. I wonder if this is the first sign....

That afternoon she drank the dosage with relish. Dinner was simply huge, but she devoured it with an appetite worthy of a teenager. That night, as she lay in bed, thinking of Jack, she caressed her breasts again. Give me that sort of pleasure again, she thought. I want it with Jack.

DAY FOUR: Subject examined breasts several times during period. Sensors indicate initial tissue growth in both breasts, approximately 270 times normal rate. While not discernible to casual inspection, deep scans reveal local centers of increasing tissue density comparable to that of female shortly after puberty. This has created some soreness in subject's nipples and aureoles, which subject appears to have found highly pleasurable. Oxygen uptake at high level, leading to increasing feeling of well-being by subject. Overt effects include firming flesh tone and clearing skin.

Subject masturbated in shower; manual stimulation of breasts alone led to orgasm. Hormonal response was well above unmodified human norm; subjectively, Jillian will have felt a 'powerful' orgasm, though one still within human norm limits.

___________________

Jill awakened. Her nipples were still sore—if anything, more than before, and now her breasts ached as well. She let her gown drop. I wonder if they watch all this, she grinned inwardly. The morning peep-show. Who cares?

She felt each breast, tenderly cupping them. Could it be that both were firmer? She tried to think how they'd felt before. Possibly? She let the gown fall, and walked to the mirror again. I wonder if I could command it to....

'Body scan, full, brief result, vox', she said to the empty air. The mirror shimmered. A soft voice warned 'please close eyes'. Soundless lasers scanned her from through the mirror, and five seconds later the impersonal voice said 'Scan complete, height 5'7", weight 127, measurements 33B-22-33'.

She opened her eyes. A full inch around? She looked more closely at the mirror. Her breasts DID appear somewhat fuller. Deep inside them she felt a dull pressure, as if growing tissue were pressing against the skin over them—a pleasurable feeling of growth. She touched her left tit and pressed, softly, then more firmly. Yes—without doubt, she was firmer. She cupped them, and yes, they did appear to round into her hands more fully than yesterday. The tissue growth must be simply fantastic; no wonder I eat like a pig!

She showered, ate—an even bigger meal, and sat down to read a bookvid. The air was warm and soft on her naked body. And with a start, she realized that she hadn't put on a fresh gown. She went to get one from the sleeping chamber.

DAY FIVE: Subject now experiencing outward signs of inward genetic modification. Breast size beginning to increase; subject apparently found this pleasing. Breast density approaching that of human female circa age 19. Milk producing potential increased by approximately 72% over subject's baseline.

Internal changes progress smoothly. Muscle strength increasing in pelvic area as tissue grows and strengthens. Hormonal and genetic modification creating areas of increasing sensitivity. Thus far, subject has only noticed this in her nipples, but change will become apparent to her over next few days as breeder modifications take full effect. We expect breast size to increase more rapidly over that time, then level off thereafter. Body fat increase by approximately 7.3%; this is being stored in hips and buttocks, though subject did not notice this. Subject failed to resume attire after breakfast; this may possibly be first indication of low-level inhibition suppression (see Annex 3D, 'Neurochemical Sexual Inhibition Modifications' for details). Recommend we set living quarters to autosense optimal temperature and humidty to encourage subject to remain nude with increasing frequency. This should serve as psychological reinforcement to removal of inhibition and aid in accusto!
ming subject to nudity as normal behaviour.

She awakened. Had she neglected to put on a gown before bedtime last night? Clearly so; she lay nude in bed. Is this part of the process, I wonder?, she thought, but the idea no longer alarmed her. She sat up and looked down. Her nipples were firmer. No doubt about it now, her breasts were swelling noticeably—not that much, but enough that they were beginning to show a very pleasing curve. Oh, baby, you look good, she thought. The ache had gone away, too. She cupped her left tit: yes, it felt firmer, and the mere touch was pleasurable. Oh, I bet a man would love to hold you now. She stood up and walked to the mirror. Were her hips slightly fuller? She ran her hands down them, and the sight of her doing so made her suddenly feel wanton. Yeah, they are fuller. I'm getting the hips the models always used to have before the war. I feel great. She turned sideways. Her buttocks were becoming more rounded—not much, but the curve was definitely there.

She went back to the bed. I wonder what it would be like now? Would Jack like the sight of me? She opened her eyes. Formerly her tits would have had only the gentlest swell as she lay back; now they were more pronounced, and their curves looked perfect for a man's hands. Without thinking she reached down and caressed the soft cleft between her legs. Her labia ached, and she gently stroked the lips, and as she did so she watched her nipples fill and rise. Oh, yes, she thought, it is happening. I'm 'converting', and they were right, it feels so good. Oh, Jack, take me. She closed her eyes and stuck one finger gently between her labia, slick with wetness. She felt a reflexive surge in her loins, and her entrance tightened around her finger. She moaned, and put her left hand on her swollen nipple, rubbing, pressing. Oh god oh yes Jack enter me now, that's it, harder...she pushed her finger deeper, and pulled out. Oh yes, that's it, thrust into me, harder...her hips began t!
o move in time with her finger, and they rose off the bed as she pushed, trying to take her finger in more deeply. Thought was replaced by sensation...I'm losing it, I'm losing it, oh mate with me, deep inside me, come in me, come in me, come in me Jack please come in me now I'm coming oh god I'm coming....she bucked, she convulsed, and the lightning ripped through her, spreading from her vagina and clitoris, surging through her breasts and legs and arms and lips and mind and soul. Whiteness and pure joy replaced, became reality.

The tide ebbed, and her buttocks sank back onto the bed. Then the miracle, the joy, happened: her body began to move again, pressing against her hand, and she arched her back so that her tit could press harder against her comforting, ministering palm. Oh my god I'm going to come again oh oh oh Jack yes enter me now do me forever mate don't stop come in me yes Jack Jack...and the fire swept through her again, her buttocks tensing, vagina clenching her finger harder than she thought possible.

She came down, opening her eyes dazedly. Her breasts were tinged with red, the sign of intense arousal, her stomach trembled, and her crotch was soaked with her own juices. Her legs trembled. Oh god, I've never had an orgasm—two—like that, she thought. I never knew. She lay quietly for minutes, then went to shower and breakfast.

That day she listened to music and did some exercise. At 1500, the chamber door opened, and Dr. Wilson gestured her through. She sat on the exam table, and realized with a start that she was still nude.

'How do you feel, Jillian?'

'Fine, doctor.'

Wilsonn touched her breasts. 'How are these?'

'They hurt a bit to begin with, but they feel wonderful now. Thank you, they are so nice. And my hips and ass are nice, too.' Jill laughed, blushing slightly.

'I'm glad, Jillian. No other symptoms?'

Jill blushed deeply. 'Well, I had two orgasms today'—why am I saying this? I don't feel any embarrassment—'and they were incredible. Is this part of the process? I wouldn't even have talked about orgasms and sex last week, but now it just seems so normal.'

'Good. No pain?'

'None. It felt really good. In fact, it was as if I couldn't control myself. Like my, well, like my mind dissolved and I was just sort of in the experience. I didn't want it to stop and I didn't care'.

'Excellent. Drink this,then'. And she handed Jillian the desired blue liquid.

That night Jillian dreamt of home, and for the first time in years she felt no sadness.

DAY SIX: Subject's body evidences increasingly rapid breeder optimization. Breast size increasing steadily; remote scan indicates 33C (from 32B); weight increasing (130 lbs) with virtually all additional being added to hips and buttocks, and minor amounts to upper arms and legs. Subject is developing the body of an athlete; muscle tone is increasing. Subject remained nude throughout day, we recommend leaving gowns available, as an obvious removal of same might cause some temporary anxiety in subject. Subject apparently did not anticipate that she might prefer nudity, though our model predicted this. The success of this will be of great aid in visually-cued arousal of both male and female breeders in future if full-time nudity becomes their norm. Further, the absence of clothing reinforces the 'natural state' psychology we hope to achieve, which itself will contribute to more frequent mating.

Pelvic cluster shows marked increase in strength and tone. During multiple orgasm AM, subject's blood chemistry showed hormonal levels near those required to overcome learned inhibitions. Over next three days it is estimated that these will reach saturation in subject, removing inhibitory behaviour altogether. Subject's masturbation indicates that she is now adjusting fully to, and is comfortable with, her body's changes. Though subject initially showed doubt and fear, as predicted the increasing psycho-physical changes throughout her system are acting to remove the negative attitude. Each sexual experience serves to acclimate subject to freer sexual response in future. Caloric intake 7300 per day.

She awakened. Her breasts felt different, and she pulled the covers off and looked with pleasure. Each precious teat was noticeably fuller; as she sat up they swayed gently, firm, rounded. She cupped them,and thrust her back out. This is what I'd always wanted to look like, she thought. They're jutting out enough that they must be at least two inches now, and they're so wonderfully curved, filling out inexorably, promising joy. Her aureoles were dark and wide, stretching as her breasts developed, and her nipples were thicker, too. Ready to give milk, she thought. She went to the mirror: yes, hips were wider, and buttocks more shapely. The mirror scanned her: 33.5C-24-34. The stats sounded sweetly in her ears. I'm beautiful, she thought. She regarded herself: her skin glowed, her eyes were clear, hair glossy, and her tits...her tits...how good they looked. Had she ever been afraid of this? Yes, she had, but she wasn't sure why. She swayed her hips and smiled roguishly: !
'hey there, baby, want some of this?'

She showered, ate another huge breakfast, and thought: man, I'm horny again. She returned to the bedroom. I'll give them something to look at, she thought, and touched herself caressingly. She moaned gently in the warm air (was it warmer than a few days ago?), and opened her legs wide, caressing her cleft, teasing her clitoris. Are my labia a little thicker? Am I even wetter than I ever have been? Yes...it feels so nice. She rolled onto her stomach, opened her legs, and inserted three fingers into her body. She wriggled against the mattress, enjoying the pressure against her breasts—her fuller breasts, which for the first time she could massage and enjoy the rolling of them as she moved against the bed. How wonderful it felt to have fuller tits...she opened her legs wider, using her thumb to flick against her clit, and her mouth opened in a gasp of pleasure. Her other hand rose to it, and without thinking she took a finger into her mouth, flicking her tongue over it, sucki!
ng it, biting gently, making inarticulate sounds of joy. The remote monitors showed her writhing, a fit, lovely female, rounded buttocks framing her hand soaked by her juices. The first orgasm shook her, and she paused. The unseen monitors recorded. She resumed, her body moving more and more rhythmically, and her hips moved, jerkily at first, slowly settling into a rhythm of their own. Her nipples swelled, harder than she'd ever known, rubbing against the mattress, and nothing was left but the joy.

DAY SEVEN: Subject experienced extended arousal episode following morning meal. Subject rapidly losing ability to control or restrain incidence of such episodes, indicating successful transition to desired 'breeder' status well underway. Experienced four orgasms over 90 minute period in AM, and another following a short rest. Sexual flush very evident on breasts, upper arms, throat and stomach. Darkening of eyelids and under eyes followed prolonged masturbation. Oxygenation at target levels. Saturation attained in inhibition reduction chemical complexes. Pheromonal sensitivity increasing—we recommend that final tests occur in environment atmosphere saturated with male pheromones to create as realistic a condition as possible. Estimated time to complete physical modification completion: three days. Estimate to final physiological conversion: six days. Psychosexual realignment already far advanced, and occurred more quickly than anticipated. Subject appears to be fully adjus!
ting to bodily changes.

She awakened. Without looking she knew that her tits had grown. She looked down; the skin swelled out from below her collarbone, and the space between her breasts showed a beautiful cleavage. The mirror told her that they were now 35C. God, I've grown three inches, and she felt their firmness. I wouldn't even need a bra. They feel so right, so full, so firm, so round. As she sat up, they swayed gently, but not much—so very firm, she thought. She stood in front of the mirror. She stroked her hips. Her skin was smooth and soft. Oh, look...Jack would love these. She cupped her ass. God, I'd love for him to hold me right there, while he stood and I wrapped my legs around his waist. We could make love while he thrust into me, and I'd let my head fall back while he suckled me and I cradled his head. Jack, Jack, I just want you to make me yours forever. I wish you were here now, we'd make sweet love for hours, and I'd pleasure you and feel your hard cock deep inside me. I wis!
h I'd told you, Jack. Please let me see you again. I need you so much.

DAY EIGHT: Subject's breast growth nearly complete. Subject appears ecstatic about her figure, repeatedly caressing herself throughout day. Nudity now accepted as normal; Jillian appears not to realize or miss the absence of clothes. Physiological changes well under way to completion. Neurochemical levels have been modified and inhibitory behaviours dampened to virtually nil. Pheromonal sensitivity now some 250% above pre-conversion norm. Vaginal, pubic and pelvic strength approximately 3 times pre-conversion norm. Subject's saliva shows increasing levels of chemical compounds commonly identified with those increasing male sexual arousal. Lips are slightly fuller as well. Given the unexpectedly rapid success of the programme, we suggest that psychosexual conditioning (Phase II) be initiated to complete breeder conversion.

She awakened and lay quietly, enjoying the alertness and health, and the way her breasts swelled the covers over them. The sheet tickled her nipples, and she pulled it down to look proudly on her tits. 36C, I think. Yes, and firmer than anyone else's too. And I'm horny already. She lay still, feeling a slow pulsing deep in her vagina, almost as if dormant muscles were flexing. It felt good—like a deep, slow, erotic massage. She sighed and pulled the cover away, leaving her nude on the bed. I wore clothes once, didn't I? Yes. I did. Why? It's so warm in here, and this way I can look at myself all the time.

She arose and went to eat breakfast. As she entered the corridor, Dr. Wilson appeared. Surprisingly, the third lock was open.

'Is it 1500 already?' Jillian teased. Wilson smiled.

'Jillian, would you come with us, please? We'd like to run some reaction tests.'

She followed through the lock, through the exam room, and into a new room which was just barely lit by muted backlighting—just enough to see a shadowy bank of equipment, a cushioned...chair, she thought, and little else. The other medico, a woman, stood beside the chair. Wilson led her to the chair, which on closer look was padded, but of open frame construction with two leg supports, much like an examination chair. A padded headrest completed the ensemble. 'Sit down, please'. Jillian complied. The chair was warm.

'Jillian, you are looking great. How do you feel?'

'Fantastic. I don't know what all has changed, but I feel marvellous.'

Wilson smiled down at her. 'You look marvellous, too. Congratulations. How has the conversion experience been?'

'It's been amazing. I remember being so scared at first, but for some reason I'm not anymore. I'm just me, but with a great body. And the feelings are indescribable. I never had any idea how wonderful I'd feel. It's like, well, sex taken to a hundred times better than I'd ever imagined. I seem to want sex a lot now, too.'

Jillian looked at her full breasts complacently. She stroked one teasingly. 'You have no idea how good this feels. They're so much nicer now.' Did I just say that?

'Okay, we're going to run some tests of response. First, we're going to just restrain you so you don't hurt yourself. The tests should be pleasurable, but you may experience extreme reactions in your pleasure'.

'That sounds like fun, Doctor! Go ahead.' Jill smiled archly. I'm quite the minx!

The two medicos slid soft restraining straps from the chair arms, looping across her upper arms, and another set across her wrists. Another set went around her thighs, and a final set around her ankles, gently tightening to restrain her comfortably.

'Okay, just a few questions:

Do you miss clothes?'

'No, it's weird but I don't. I like being nude now, it's so much more natural, you know? I like seeing myself in the mirror and watching myself. I used to be very modest, so it's weird. But I love seeing my body and thinking about Jack...'

'Do you remember how you felt before starting the programme?'

'Yes. I was shy, and I didn't like being undressed in front of others, and I was scared. Really scared. I don't remember why I felt that way, really.'

'What about sex? Do you want to be with a man?'

'Yes, more than anything. I never thought I was especially horny, you know, but every day now I have orgasms, more than one. I've never known anything so wonderful before.'

'A particular man?'

'Jack. I want Jack.'

'What about another man?'

'No. Just Jack. I dream of him all the time'.

'If you were with Jack, what would you do?'

'Hmm. Well, I'd get his clothes off, and kiss him all over, and give myself totally to him, and take him, and just get him deep inside me, forever.'

'Sounds like you want him badly.'

'I do; funny, but before this I was never open like I am now.'

'And would you consider being with other men?'

'No, never. I just want Jack. Jack and Jill'. She smiled.

'Okay, now we're going to do some tests. Just relax, okay? Tell us if you feel anything in particular, but just relax.'

A helmet slid down from behind the chair. They fitted it to her head; soft earpieces rested snugly on her, and two eyepatches adjusted themselves to her. All outside sound ceased. She lay in the warm dark, waiting. She felt two soft pads attached to her nipples, and another on her clitoris. So sensitive was she now that she moaned with pleasure at the sensation. Time passed.

At first there was only the suggestion of light—soft blue flickers rising from just beyond perception. Gradually, they began to pulse, strengthening, flickering against her closed eyelids. Slowly, just at the threshold of sound, a deep, slow throb filled her ears. She relaxed, letting the light and sound fill her. They throbbed in time with her heartbeat, the blue flickers slowly turning purple and deep red. Jillian felt herself slipping into a state of near-sleep. Slowly, in time with the light, she felt a slight tingling in each nipple, then on her clitoris. She shifted and wriggled, enjoying the sensation. She floated in an empty, warm space, becoming one with the rhythm, and the tingling increased, becoming a slow throb in time with the light. She gasped; the chair's back just behind her breasts began to press upward, arching her back slowly, irresistibly, pressing her breasts up against the pads, her nipples rock hard now, wanting more of the pleasure. She felt her vag!
ina and labia becoming wet; she felt her clitoris harden as the throbbing spread through it and into her stomach, buttocks, thighs. Her labia were swelling with the pleasure. Softly, at the edge of sound, she heard whispers, evocative, evasive, almost too faint to hear, or perhaps they were only imaginings in her mind: breed, they said softly. Breed. Breed. Breed. She moaned in reply. Do you want to breed? the gentle voices asked, echoing in her mind. She cried out, 'yes oh yes'. Breed, came the voices, and the throbbing in her nipples and clit increased, one with the light and the voices. Her labia swelled, a pressure building between her legs, pressing against them,urging them apart. Open yourself. Open. Open your legs. Open your legs. Open your legs. She felt the restraining pressure of the straps around her thighs, and pushed outward against them. The leg rests responded, swinging apart, ratcheting, wider and still wider. Open your legs. Open your legs. She opened her!
self wide, giving in to the insistent pressure between her leg!
s, and f
elt her vagina opening, her legs splayed out, and she turned her knees outward, the rests swivelling to allow it, ratcheting into place, locking her wide open. Breed, came the soft voices. Her beautiful full tits were filled by the throbbing from her nipples now. Ask to be bred, ask to be bred, ask to be bred, ask to be bred, the voices said, softly, insistently, and she cried aloud, 'please oh god breed me oh please I can't wait please please', she moaned. A hard, warm presence nuzzled up against her labia, nestling between her lips. Her hips strained up against it. The hardness stroked up, then down against her labia, brushing her clitoris, slowly, very slowly. The stroking diminished as the hardness began to press forward, parting her lips, its head beginning a smooth journey deep into her core, its head opening her wide, the shaft filling her emptiness. Her wetness enveloped it Oh god oh god yes...Breed, Jillian. Breed. Mate. Mate. She floated in the timeless void, ma!
ting, her breasts throbbing, her clitoris harder than she'd ever known, being mastered and taken by the hardness, and the universe sang as she bred. Say it aloud with us, Jillian. Mate. 'Mate', she cried, weeping with the joy of it. Mate me, breed me oh don't stop, don't stop...the object penetrated her fully, filling her vagina, warm and hard, then began to withdraw. No don't stop please don't stop...then it thrust forward again, and withdrew, and forward again, its rhythm in synchrony with that of the throbbing in her breasts and in her mind. 'Mate me' she cried aloud, 'mate me forever'. She mated. The hardness thrust into her, each thrust a tidal wave of light, an ecstasy, and her body tightened around it, grasping hard, the pleasure doubling, then doubling again, and again. Tightly clasped in her now, the hardness, like living iron, stroked her core. Breeding oh breeding...the words echoed in her, around her, the only reality...the pleasure built, washing awa!
y conscious thought, leaving only mute sensation. She could no!
longer
speak, but only moan in the shining emptiness. The voices whispered, mate mate mate mate, and she mated, wild and unafraid, joy surging through her breasts, her life-giving breasts, her vagina tightening in a grip harder than she'd ever known, her body succumbing to ecstasy deeper and stronger than anything she'd experienced before. You are a breeder. You are a breeder. You are a...she came, screaming, holding the hardness deep in her, letting the waves of mating ecstasy take her, and the light exploded, her being convulsed.

Slowly she came down. I'm Jillian, she thought, Jillian. Not a 'breeder'. I'm Jillian. Oh that was so good. Oh, please stop, don't stop. The hardness stroked more and more slowly in her, the throbbing ceased. The absence was like leaving heaven. Mate again. Mate again came the voices. Slowly the throbbing resumed. Mate. Mate. She felt herself slipping, her being succumbing. Ask to breed, ask, ask. The sensation lessened. Please, oh don't stop it please...Ask to breed. 'Breed me' she cried out again, and the pleasure returned. You are a breeder. Yes, please don't stop she cried aloud. You are a breeder. Yes, I am a breeder she moaned in her joy. Her breasts were ready to suckle, her body to mate and reproduce. The hardness thrust again, her vagina took it, and she soared, coming again, and again, and again....

Wilson watched Jillian writhing, slick with sweat, in the chair. Her breasts—how firm they were, thought Wilson enviously—were tinged with the blush of deep arousal, and Jillian licked her full lips, moaning, unable to speak, oblivious to the world around her. Her legs, splayed widely, framed the probe that penetrated deeply into her soaking wet vagina. God, she looks so happy, Wilson thought. The psychosexual conditioning routine must be very pleasurable. She felt a wetness; I'm getting horny just watching her become a breeder!

DAY NINE: Subject undergoes first phase of psychosexual conditioning. Physical conversion process nearly complete. Sexual response near goals: pelvic muscle strength nearly 350% beyond human norm, modifications to salivary tract complete, greatly enhanced sensitivity in breasts, nipples, vagina, clitoris, throat, lips and neck. Greater overall sensitivity in virtually every area of body. Measurements indicate orgasmic response continues to heighten, now reaching some 250% of human norm. Hormone response to stimulation was far swifter than that of human norm; overt sexual arousal some 30% faster than that of pre-conversion human. Stimulus of breasts and clitoris, combined with penetration by probe, elicited multiple rapid orgasm without need or desire for rest. Cognitive functions overwhelmed by biochemical mating response—subject temporarily lost ability to speak, reverting to a deeply elemental state of arousal. Positive reinforcement of new role as breeder commenced; subje!
ct accepted suggestion following initial denial. Subject is expected—as hoped—to retain full personality characteristics while losing any inhibition about repeated sexual coitus. Subject's pre-conversion shyness and modesty fully dissolved.

She awakened. She knew they'd be taking her back to the testing room this morning, and her labia ached with anticipation. She ate a more moderate breakfast. I guess I must have put on all the calories I need, she thought. As she finished, a soft chime rang, and she went out into the corridor. The lock was open to the exam area, and she went through.

Wilson greeted her. 'How are you today, Jillian?'

'I'm wonderful,. Doctor. What do we do today? More in that chair? That was incredible....'

Wilson laughed and looked at her with a twinge of envy. 'It was you who were incredible, Jillian. That chair would give pleasure to an ordinary human, but your conversion has made you even more sensitive. But today we're going to use another device. Ready?' Jillian licked her lips and nodded. Wilson led the way into the darkened room, and through it into a smaller chamber.

The device looked something like a massage unit. 'Lie face down', Wilson requested, and Jillian did so. The cushioned surface was broken into multiple segments, and amusingly enough there were two hollows where her breasts fitted. 'Place your arms on the rests below the table, and put your feet in the rests at the end'. She did so. 'We're going to restrain you again, okay?' They placed gentle yet firm ties on her, anchoring her firmly to the table. 'Okay, this is what's going to happen, Jillian. We're going to close the door, but we'll be in the other room. The room is soundproof, but if you need to stop just say so and we'll stop.'

'No helmet thing today?'

'No, not today. We think you might like seeing what's going on'. The other medico left; Wilson knelt down by Jillian's head, turned sideways on the warm surface. 'I'm very happy for you, Jillian.'

'Thank you, Doctor Wilson'.

'Mary.'

'Mary. When I started this I was so scared, you have no idea, but this is all worth it. I just hope I can give the same sort of pleasure to others, to Jack.'

Wilson stood up, her eyes shining with tears. 'Bless you, Jillian', she said, and her hand stroked the glossy dark hair briefly. 'I'll see you after'. And she left.

The room was dark. The hollows cupping her breasts contracted, pressing warmly against them. Jillian felt her breasts, nestling into the table, begin to tingle with the same sensation she'd felt the day before. With the faintest whir of machinery the table's articulated segments holding her legs began to move, forcing her legs open, then stopped when her feet were still a mere two feet apart. A cool, impersonal presence pressed against her labia and clitoris as some unseen device rose up between her legs and pushed forward, snugging itself against her. The tingling began, deep in her labia and clitoris, and the sound came, not from earpads this time, but from all around, filling the air with a deep, barely perceptible synchrony. Her hands clenched, and she moaned. Oh, I can hear myself again! I wonder what it is they're doing with these tests?

The throbbing strengthened, slowly penetrating her breasts, widening out from her clit and labia, invading her pelvis and stomach, and she felt her legs tensing. Very softly, from the dark air around her, she heard the soothing, familiar voice: Relax. Relax. She breathed deeply, letting the tingling course through her. Breed. Breed. Breed. She raised her head. 'I'm Jillian', she cried out to the darkness. 'NOT a breeder. Just me'. Breed, breed. The tingling became a deep throbbing, penetrating, stroking, her labia filling, the wetness increasing in her crotch every second, her breasts aching as the throbbing massaged them, her nipples hardening and pressing against the hollows. Oh god that feels so good. The throbbing lessened. Don't stop, she cried out to the darkness. Breed breed came the voices. Please don't stop, yes breed, she cried out in her need. The throbbing grew. Oh so beautiful, oh yes, oh...slowly the back of the table descended, the segments pivoting at !
her waist, and the front end rose slightly, allowing her to breath easily. The segment under her head fell away, and she felt herself moving into a kneeling position. Deep red light, barely visible, strobed in time with her hearbeat, flicking across the walls, a cadence in rhythm with the throbbing. Oh I'm so wet, oh my nipples are hard so hard they hurt they feel so good. A faint suction, strengthening each second, pulled at her nipples, teasing, suckling, nursing her. She felt her tits swelling slightly in response. Ask to be bred. Ask to be bred. The red light flicked, dazzling, disorienting, numbing. Ask to be bred. 'No', she moaned, 'I am not a breeder'. Ask to be bred. Something licked her labia, lasciviously, probing between the lips, warm and wet. Ask to be bred. A warm, musky scent filled the air, dazing her. The restraints tightened around her thighs, and the table segments swung farther apart as she knelt. Ask to be bred. She moaned, unable to concentrate, d!
isoriented. I'm...I'm...Jill...I'm...ask to be bred...the l!
icking w
as insistent, her tits throbbed, her nipples, rock hard, felt a wet licking, flicking nuzzling at them. Ask to be bred. I'm Jil--I am a breeder. I'm a breeder, oh don't stop Breed me oh breed yes breed now, please now. A hardness pressed against her labia, and smoothly pushed into her core, thick, long, warm, full. Push back. Push back. In desperation she pushed, hard, taking the length into her. You are a breeder. I am a breeder it feels so good. You are a breeder. Yes, oh yes, I am a breeder. The hardness filled her being, stroking in and out. On the far wall in front of Jillian's eyes a light grew, an image began to form. She watched, vacant, her mind empty of all except the pleasure. It was a woman, kneeling, her top resting on a table, head rolling, face red with lust. It's me. It's me. It's so beautiful. The woman was slick with sweat, and a hard, long probe moved in and out of her body. Oh yes oh I'm an animal. You are a breeder. Look at yourself mate. You are!
mating. Oh, I am I am mating forever I'll do anything don't let it stop.....

Wilson watched as Jillian convulsed in her orgasm. 'She's no longer able to resist the suggestion', she remarked to her colleague. She'll be ready for the full-scale breeding programme tomorrow. Much earlier than we'd thought. The biological conversion must affect basic psychology more than we'd ever hoped'.

'Do we go ahead with the plan?'

'Yes. Tomorrow will be the final test. If successful, the concept will have been validated and can be used on other healthy volunteers.'

'One thing, Mary. We promised at the start that we could reverse the process. What if she wants that?'

'Do you really think we can reverse such a complex of changes? Deep down Jillian must have known we couldn't, but even to herself she couldn't admit that this is what she wanted. And let's face it. Look at her. If you were her, would you want to go back?'

DAY TEN: Breeder conversion programme complete. During today's session subject was raised to a state of extremely high arousal for three hours 26 minutes. Subject again lost higher cognitive function, reverting to a basic type. During this period reinforcement of 'breeder role' was constantly made. Subject appears to have quickly accepted this. In latter stages, aural repetition combined with physical stimulus rendered subject nearly passive in accepting pleasure. Upon command subject repeatedly allowed probe to enter her, apparently craving it more than anything else.

Summary: subject has been modified via extensive genetic therapies and positive reinforcement conditioning. Subject's full range psychosexual response some 300-400 percent greater than unmodified human. Subject retains full personality characteristics, but all inhibition tendencies have been removed. Subject has repeatedly expressed desire to mate only with 'Jack'. Given the need for extensive mixing of genetic pool amongst the limited supply of healthy candidates, this is not an optimal situation. However, we predict that the complex of physiological, neurological and psychological changes, including the successful pheromone use today, will overcome this desire.

She awakened. After a short breakfast she peered into the corridor. Yes, the lock was open, and she stepped through, tingling with excitement. I'm so horny so much of the time now, she thought. Dr. Wilson was there, and led her to the original room. The chair was gone. In its stead was a low dais of some warm, cushiony substance. 'Just wait here, Jillian' were Wilson's only words, and she left, closing the door behind her. Jillian stood in the warm half light. As she'd expected, it faded, becoming deep red. A door opened quietly on the other side of the room and a figure stepped through. She peered at it, heart beating wildly. 'Jack', she whispered. The figure stood motionless, a vague darkness. 'Jack?' She stepped forward. It was a man—nude. She wasn't afraid or alarmed, though she would have been two weeks ago. 'Who are you?' she whispered uncertainly. 'Not Jack', he said, and stepped toward her.

It was Ron.

'You!' she exclaimed.

'Yes'. He stopped ten feet from her. 'I think they want us to have sex'.

'Not with you, I don't like you!'

'I know you don't, and I don't like you either, Jilly'. He stepped closer. 'I don't think we have much choice, though. Look.' He was becoming erect. 'They did their work well; I want you even though I don't like you at all'. She stared at his erection, swelling, reddening. A man, not a machine, she thought, god I want him, and the musky scent was growing. 'No, not you', she said, and stepped toward him. Her heart raced, and without thought she reached out and clasped his penis. Hardening under her touch, warm, full of life, veined, thick, at least eight inches. 'They changed me, too', he murmured. She tilted her head to kiss him deeply. No no this isn't happening. His lips were soft on hers, his tongue quested, his hands ran up her hips to her breasts. No no oh yes oh touch me touch me right there...his hands pinched her nipples, felt the fullness of her breasts. His cock feels so good, I've wanted this so long now. Breed me she thought, 'do it now', she mu!
rmured in his ear, grasping his penis, guiding it into the place where her wetness ached, empty, grasping. Breed mate take me now. He thrust, hard, taking her standing, her tits pressed against his chest, and the light invaded her mind, his hardness, a living erection, opening her. She felt herself clamping down on it, and she nibbled at his ear, kissing his throat. She wrapped her legs around his waist, impaling herself, and he suckled her tits. Her head dropped back. Breeding we're breeding I can't stop don't ever stop it's happening so fast. Her conscious control shattered and spun away and she slid down to the animal place, forgetting his name and hers, only knowing that she was a breeder and this was her destiny and his. His penis swelled in her, locked by her vagina, and with a hard thrust he penetrated to her core, again, and again. He filled her totally, and their bodies became one. They mated. She felt him stiffen, and a deep, regular spasm pulsed in his penis.!
He's breeding me I'm breeding him oh god and the warm, life!
giving
fluid spurted from him into her, filling her, and she convulsed in her orgasm.

Wilson watched the monitor as the two, male and female, stepped toward each other and joined. 'So fast' she murmured. They twined, oblivious to all else. She turned to the man by her side. 'Jack?'

He stared, mouth twisted in pain. On the screen, the man's balls nestled between the woman's buttocks, throbbing as he emptied himself into her. Her eyes were empty as she clasped his head to her breast; she screamed in ecstasy.

'How can she...' he whispered. 'She loved me'.

'She still does, Jack'. On the screen the mated body was writhing. The male and female had lowered themselves to the dais and she lay back, legs splayed wide, letting the male half of their body thrust into her again. Her hands clasped his buttocks, pulling him in deeply.

'Oh, yes, I can see how much she loves me.'

'Jack. She does love you. She's said so many times. She can't help herself, and neither can he. When a modified pair come within a certain distance, a whole slew of arousal mechanisms kick in: visual, aural, scent, touch. They can no more stop than you can stop breathing. In fact, within a minute or so they lose all volition and instinct rules them completely.'

'So you've made her into nothing more than an animal' he said bitterly.

'No. She's fully integrated, if anything. Her animal side has been set free, but her humanity is intact. I really think you should speak to her afterward'.

Jack looked ready to vomit. 'To her? To THAT?' He gestured to the screen, where she was locked in a deep kiss with her mate, her hips rocking in time to his thrusts.

'Yes, to her. Speak to HER. I mean it, Jack: she loves you deeply. Don't be angry with her; she herself didn't know what it would be like, and she is so very happy now. Look at her. Really look at her'. Wilson was angry with a bitterness she'd never known before. Surprised, Jack looked. Jillian was smiling, relaxed. She looked...fulfilled.

___________________

Jack sat in the living area where Jillian had resided. Suddenly, there she was, wearing a simple gray gown.

'Jack?'

'Hello, Jillian'.

'Oh, Jack, they told me you saw. I'm so sorry'.

'Don't worry about it'.

'Jack, Jack, I love you. Only you.'

'Yeah, I could see that when you were with Ron.'

'Jack, that's not the same. When I was with him we couldn't help ourselves. That's the whole purpose. Please don't be jealous. I still don't like him, but I love you'.

'So, if any man comes naked into your room, you'll fuck him?' He was brutal.

'No, if any modified man comes into my room, and I haven't had sex in the last day, and he hasn't either, we will become very aroused and we'll mate.'

'"Mate". That's an interesting term'.

'It's an accurate one, Jack. When Ron and I mated, we loved it. I won't apologize for being free and for enjoying it. I couldn't help myself and more to the point I don't WANT to help myself. But, if you're on your high horse, consider that I've always wanted you, and I've always hoped to see you again, and I always dreamt in this very room that I'd be able to mate with YOU.' He looked up, startled by the vehemence in her voice, and saw the tears in her eyes.

'I don't understand, Jillian. Please...I love you. I've missed you so much this last two weeks. And then, to see you...well, you know.'

She reached over to stroke his cheek. 'Jack, try to understand. The sex, it's physical. It's far more powerful than any unmodified person can know, like trying to explain color to a blind man. But even though it's more pleasurable than anything else, when it's all over, after all the orgasms, I still need YOU. I'm still Jillian, maybe a far more sexual, orgasmic Jillian, but my emotions are mine. I WANT you to be my partner'.

'Well, when you reverse this...'

'Jack: I'm not coming back. I love what they did. I was scared to death at first, but then all the changes took effect. I love my body; I love the sex, more than anything except you. Going back would be like being given sight for a day, then being made blind again. I won't do it.'

'Then...'

'Jack, I want you to go through it. Let them convert you, too. Ron said it was as pleasurable as anything he'd ever known—you end up with a somewhat bigger penis, too'. She smiled, essaying a joke.

He sat, stunned. 'So we could be like you and Ron one day, and then the next you'd be off with Bill or Steve or Juan?'

'And you'd be with Jane or Meredith or Donna.'

'I don't want THAT. I don't want to be a thing, breeding with other things'.

She stood up, furious. 'Jack, you aren't a fool, but you are acting like one. How dare you? You think I'm some sort of 'thing'? I have emotions and loves like you—they wouldn't take that away. The only difference is that now I have beautiful, life-giving SEX with other males. No more jealousy, no more hate. And considering what a complete rat-FUCK the old way made of our world, don't you think, just maybe, giving other people pleasure and joy might, just maybe, be a better way? Ever think of that, damn you? I'm not a 'thing' and neither is Ron, or anyone else who might go through this. If we can bring something good to this planet, and maybe create a healthy generation, then I think that's a lot better than the alternative. I guess you don't believe me, but I LOVE you. If you were with me, the sex would always have a depth and love that it never will for me with other men. And if you aren't here, I will always be lonely deep down. And the others, they'll be fee!
ling the same. We'll mate, yes. By God, we'll breed, because that's what we want, more than anything, our bodies and our minds urge us to it. But we all of us will always need our special, life-long partner. If you can't see that I'm the same as I always was, and that I've been given a great gift, then to hell with you'. She fled, weeping.

He sat. Time passed.

___________________

ONE MONTH LATER:

Jack stepped into the darkened room. A dais, soft and warm, filled one corner. Jillian had been right; he WAS bigger, among other changes. She'd been right about many things. He wanted, needed, the chance to see her again. As if in answer to his thought, her voice floated on the air, bodiless:

'Hello, Jack, darling'.

'Jillian? I've missed you so much.'

'I know. I watched your conversion. I heard you cry my name all those times when you came over and over. I love you, Jack. We'll be together very soon'.

'Why can't I see you now?'

'It's your first breeding; no more machines. If you and I get within ten feet or so of each other, we'd be...well, unable to stop. First time around, you...well, you'll see.'

The far door opened. In the shadows figure entered. 'Jillian?'

The figure swayed toward him. The musky scent built. 'Hello, Jack'.

'Doctor Wilson...'

'Mary. I'm converted, too, you see. It was so beautiful to see Jillian's conversion, and...'

She was there, alive, her breasts pressing into his hands, her hips against his, her lips soft and full on his mouth, and nothing was left but the need. 'Breed me, Jack, do it now. Make me pregnant'. His penis ached, full and hard, and with a simple motion he lowered his mate to the dais, clasped her thighs, held her poised open, and thrust into her body. The wetness and warmth and tightness were indescribable, and her body tightened around his. She moaned, her eyes closed, head rolling, and her full breasts—fuller than she'd ever been before—stood up, firm and proud, swaying gently as he thrust into her.

Another was there; Jillian was. She knelt by them, as nude as they were, and stroked his back. 'That's it, Jack, take her, let her take you. Breed her.'

'I want you, Jillian', he said thickly, but didn't stop thrusting. Their male-female body was fully joined, and he couldn't stop.

'She's fertile, Jack. This is First Breeding for her, too'.

'I...' He felt the pressure increasing in his balls, and his penis hardening, sending waves of pleasure into him. 'I ...withdraw...'

'No, Jack. Give her your seed. It is her right as a woman. Let go to the pleasure'.

His hips thrust forward, his being narrowed down to the beautiful female beneath him. She wrapped her legs around him. 'Seed me, oh seed me now' Mary whispered, eyes sightless with the joy. He felt it rising in him, a warm tightness, uncontrollable, demanding release, and with a cry of fulfilment he let go, spurting into her, impregnating her, on and on and on as Jillian urged him. I'm a breeder, he thought, before all thought faded and blind instinct took him, and even as he did, the arousal returned, the woman beneath him drew his head down to kiss him, and he felt his hips begin to thrust again...

They had lain together, all three, Mary and Jack and Jillian, the first two still joined, Mary resting, exhausted, atop Jack, his penis finally limp in her after ten orgasms. 'Jack, you were so beautiful' Mary whispered. 'Thank you always for being my first. I'm pregnant, I can tell. I just know.'

She paused. 'Jillian, love, I never knew how wonderful it was, either. I saw your conversion, and how you submitted to it, step by step. At first I was repelled, then I was fascinated, then I was so sad not to have the pleasure you had. And Jack, he is such a good man, and loves you so, I want you and him to have the pleasure I've had today, and even more.'

Jack stroked her back. 'I want you to find your life-partner, too', he said tenderly.

'I will Jack, I know I will. They're going to set up a colony for us, a place where we will have everything supplied to us: food, shelter, education, entertainment. We won't need clothes, though'. She smiled. 'I know I'll find him there. And you and I will mate again, and you'll seed Jillian, who is fertile too, and others, and other men will be there, and they'll take me and Jillian, and we will be happy. A better world, perhaps. Just remember: however often Jillian is with other men, she is still YOUR Jillian, and you are her Jack'.

'I know. Now I know, finally.'

'And I love you both, very much'.

Jillian stroked Mary's hair.

CODA:

Jack and Jill. At last, in the breeding chamber, in the warmth and half light. She felt more wonderful than anyone he'd ever known; he felt better than anyone she'd ever known. The fire overcame them, as their bodies and minds urged them together, and they pressed close, kissing madly, deeply, and she whispered, as her mind and his began to slide into the elemental light, 'take me standing, Jack'.

And so he did, entering her, breeding her, her legs around his waist, his lips on her breast as she cupped it, presenting it to him as she had wanted to do for so long, mating into one body and spirit, all consciousness drowned by the pleasure, two animals naturally and shamelessly joining. He no longer knew himself as Jack or her as Jill; he was male, she female, and as he thrust into her he felt the pressure rise and rise, and he came, filling her over and over, one at last, now and forever.