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Old 06-03-2013, 10:57 PM   #14
Local curmudgeon
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Join Date: Jul 2005
Location: Las Vegas Nevada
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You ain't seen nothing yet, Catto...

Playing Dress up

Before the 'date' (Yeah, right. Three girls and I, a date?) was over, I had gotten Sova alone long enough to plead my case. She waved her wand, then told me that when I got home, I would be a boy again. Her explanation, that I would have people questioning why a guy was wearing a bra stopped me from whining. Much.

She also told me that when I felt the need to be myself as a guy, I could just walk into the library, find a shelf line with no one else, and concentrate as normal, using the same to switch to girl mode. But she did warn me that I had to be a girl for the last two classes the next day. When I asked why she merely told me I would find out, and smiled engimatically.

I begged off on more shopping, got away from the women somehow, and got home. The instant I was through the door, I was back to normal. Using what I had learned from the book, I made sure she couldn't do it again.

The next day I was back at school as myself. Everywhere on the boys side, I caught the same buzz about (You guessed it) my 'cousin Nikki'. If I had been a pimp I could have coined money selling 'her' secrets.

I was in the third to last class when I found a note in my briefcase reminding me that I had promised to be on the girl's side in the next class. So I sighed, and headed to the library. Janice perked up when she saw me, and I begged off because I had to find a book. Down a shelf line, boom, I was Nikki again.

I turned to find a very irate Janus standing behind me. “That was cold, Nick.”

I sighed, and explained. She relented, but with bad humor. A boy came into our aisle. “I'm looking for something about the Civil War-”

“War between the States.” We said in unison. She smiled slightly, then continued. “Two shelves over, history, which is clearly marked. Fourth and fifth shelf to the West. For the 'apologists' which is considered lies about it, you need to get into the restricted section.”

“Read Raphael Semmes' book there.” I added. That slight smile grew.

“You and her would be perfect together once she gets over her shyness. But we had better go.”


She handed me a list of the contestants in our beauty pageant. There were nine names; one freshman, two sophmore, five juniors including Heather Janice and I, and one senior (You guessed it) Sova. “We're reporting to our home rooms for out last two classes.” She told me as the class bell sounded. We hurried. Somewhere enroute, Janica was back.

All of the desks had been pushed and stacked at the back of the room, and our full class was there. Before I could say a word they descended on us like locusts and clothing flew. I was down to bare skin in less than fifteen seconds, and someone began to slide a new outfit on me. Two and a half minutes later (Believe me, I was watching the clock) I was dressed in a cute little French maid's uniform. Janice (Blushing furiously) was in a similar outfit.

They handed us feather dusters, and Tanya was holding up a cue card. “Read it!” she shouted from where she knelt in front of a digital video camera.

“If the master of the house wishes.” I stumbled through.

“I can clean his tubes as well.” Janice was so red I expected her head to release steam like they do in Japanese animes when it's a female experiencing sexual arousal or embarrassment. They waited only a few seconds before they did their locust imitation again.

For the next eighty minutes they stripped and dressed us like perverts playing with two living Barbie dolls. The outfits became more and more risque, school issue bathing suits, cat ears and tails, bondage gear (Me standing with a more than ever embarrassed Janice on her hands and knees on a leash). ending with the kind of swim suit you would rather die than wear in public. Mine was something that might have been used as a quarter of a handkerchief if you took all of the panels and sewed them together. The one Janice wore was a monokini, A pair of straps that ran down to her bustline, widened enough to stay within the censor's boundaries, then ran down to her hips with a panel small enough that you could almost tell if she had dyed her hair, if you get my drift.

And every time, there were comments we were supposed to make that also got more coarse. I put my foot down with this last one. “I am not going to say that.” I snarled. Janice just blushed down to her breast line, and shook her head.

“This is the last one.” Tanya tried to sooth us.

“I don't care!”

“Then we'll just have to keep these.” Behind Tanya, someone held up our school uniforms, waggling them like the bully keeping your book away from you. “And you'll just have to go home in those.”

That stopped me. Sure I could become invisible or teleport. Even change to a guy, though picturing me as a guy dressed in that suit made me blush. But what about Janice? Oh Janus wouldn't mind, I thought. But picture the shyest girl you've ever met, wearing a suit that would be defined as 'asking to be raped'. I sighed. “I'm not excited, sir.” I said slowly, with a 'if you think I am, you're a eunuch' tone in my voice.

“I was just in the water.” Janice choked out.

“That's a wrap!” Tanya caroled. As we had been going through this, being stripped so many times right in the class room in front of everybody, some of the girls had been putting together some kind of enclosure. As Janice and I looked around, they added the final touch, curtains.

“Wait a minute!” I roared. “You had that ready to assemble, yet made us strip out here? Why?”

“Cause this was more fun!” someone at the back shouted to laughter from everyone but we victims. I took Janice's hand, and stormed across the room. Bad idea. The first I realized it was when there was a collective sigh and a whimper from Janice. In those suit neither one of us should have made any sudden movements for obvious reasons, two of which (One of mine and one of hers) were suddenly on display. I turned and started to cover her first, which meant Tanya's camera caught me in the act. I tried to make the camera give a view like I had in the bank, but someone (Take a wild guess) had made sure I couldn't.

Somehow we got into the enclosure, and I suddenly had my arms full of a weeping Janice. I made soothing sounds as the 'bully' delivered our clothes, and finally she was if not calm, at least she wasn't crying. “I can't go on, Nikki. I can't stand the humiliation. Please, let me drop out of the contest. Please!”

“If I had known they were going to do this, neither of us would be part of it.” I whispered into her hair. Actually, she was quite a cute armful. Janice was right; if she got over her shyness, maybe we would make a couple. “Let's get dressed and out of here before they come up with something smaller.”

“Smaller?” She gave me a brave tremulous smile. “Like three sequins?”

“Don't give them any ideas.” I separated out our uniforms. After what we had just been through, body modesty was a thing of the past. We dressed so fast that the only way we could have done it any faster was using the same technique Superman did in the first movie with Chris Reeves and the revolving door.

I had barely gotten my shirt buttoned when the curtain flew aside. Heather was standing there, breathing rapidly, which to my eyes was an interesting view. She looked first ecstatic, then frustrated, leaning forward with her hands on her knees as she gasped. It wasn't that far from her home room to ours, but she must have added JATO packs or something.

“Why...couldn't...we...all be...together?” She finally gasped out.

“If I knew, I'd be to blame.” I told her. Then I got an idea. “Listen, Heather, I'm going to ask Nick to take Janice out for some ice cream and something to calm her down. Why don't you join them?”

She looked at me. “You're not going to be there?”

“Listen, I'm a super hero of sorts. I have a ship to rescue, so he'll have to take over.” Before she could protest I had pushed them both out of the room, down to flights of stairs, and across the compound to the library. I rushed away, ducking first into a shelf line, vanished, into another, and walked out as myself.

“Janice, Heather.” I nodded to each. “I've heard you've both had a really trying day. Come on, I have just the thing.” I took Janice by the arm, offered the other to Heather (refused) and set out. I had read where what you need when you're stressed is a massage and something with a lot of lactic acid. In other words, a massage followed by hot milk or ice cream. We got off the school grounds, headed for the ice cream parlor across the street from the book store.

I suddenly realized I didn't know the first thing about massage, so I asked them to wait while I ran into the bookstore. I found the right aisle, picked up half a dozen books (I blushed furiously because on of them was about massaging a girl before going a lot further with her) then was back out before they had even thought of moving. Then I walked them across the street to the parlor. I sat them down, and stood behind Janice. “Trust me.” I whispered in her ear, and began.

She was tense, but a few moments working on her shoulders caused her to begin to relax. Soon I had her sighing and moaning, and a lot of women watching with obvious interest. Within five minutes, Janice was putty in my hands. I left her whimpering for more, ran to the counter, ordered, and was back to keep it up. By the time the order was done and delivered Janice was cooked pasta.

She opened her eyes as I stopped the second time, staring at what I had ordered. The best name would have been suicide by chocolate; three scoops of different chocolate ice creams over a warmed double dutch fudge brownie, with both hot fudge and chocolate syrup. I put a spoon in her hand, and she stared at it for a long moment before diving in. I looked to Heather.

“Oh not, you're not going to- ouch, that's too hard! Stop that... oh, that feels... different. Oh my, that feels... good. But you really have to... oh, stop. Listen... Nick, I don't like... Oh... my. Please, don't... Stop. Please, don't... stop. Don't stop!”

Once Heather had reached the putty stage, I ran over, ordered, and came back before she could escape. Like Janice she was so relaxed I was wondering if she had died when her order arrived. She was more of a banana split type, so I had gotten her chocolate, pistachio and cherry with caramel, fudge, and butterscotch toppings. She looked at the treat, then grabbed her spoon and began to scarf.

I started to walk over and order mine, but I paused. Turning, I saw Sova standing in the doorway. “May I indulge?” I motioned, and she took a chair. She was far more relaxed than the others, but then again she was also considering every move my hands made.

“You're supposed to relax, Sova.”

“I am relaxed.” She replied. “You're very good.” She sighed, and relaxed a bit more. “When I get the chance, I am going to have to try this skin to skin.”

I paused. “Why am I so interesting to you, Sova?”

“You are a unique person, Nick. More than you might imagine.” Her head turned enough that she could look at me with one eye. “You seem to be a master at choosing what a girl wants as ice cream, Nick. What have you seen for me?”

“If this were a Ben and Jerry's, I'd try for a baby Vermonster.” I leaned back, eyes closed, hands running on autopilot. “Five different ice creams, brownie chunks, chocolate chip cookie chunks, sprinkles, M&Ms, and some chocolate chips with hot fudge whipped cream and a handful of maraschino cherries.”

“Nick?” I looked down, she had turned around somehow, and I looked down to where my hands were still massaging her, er... front. In fact a very specific part or was it parts of her front. I jumped back from her as if I had been hit by a Taser. She watched my face as I blushed, paled, then blushed again even more furiously.

“Interesting reaction.” She turned away. “My ice cream?”

Oh, right.” I went for it. I got a dish of merely Neapolitan ice cream. At her crooked eyebrow, I shrugged. “A man of simple tastes.” She merely nodded, and dug in.

From bad to worse

On the way home, I noticed a girl following me. Same school uniform, but I didn't recognize her until I remembered the list from the beauty pageant. Mariko Fujimoto. Sophomore, an exchange student from Tokyo. But I hadn't seen her in this section of town before. I reached the house, unlocked and opened the door. As it swung open something hit me in the back, and drove me to the floor. I was going to switch to girl form when I saw a blade by my eye, which dropped until I felt it touch my throat.

“Henry Parker. Where is he?”

Henry was my dad. I tried to turn, but the blade caressed my throat. “Where is he?”

“Arlington cemetery.” I hissed.

The blade moved back, and there was a long silence. “What is he doing in a cemetery halfway across the country?”

I blinked back tears. “Awaiting the sure and certain hope of the resurrection.”

The weight on my back lifted. I waited for a long time, then rolled over. Mariko stood over me, a sword a lot like a Tachi, the very long form of the katana in her hand. She turned the sword toward the cell phone carrier on her hip, and my eyes widened as she slid the entire sword into the carrier, snapping the clasp over the hilt. The problem is, it was only about three inches long, and the sword she had jusr sheathed was almost fifty inches long. Yet all of it was now inside.

I looked at her. She looked like a young Kelly Hu, who played lady Deathstrike in X Men Unlimited. She also looked confused and saddened. I asked. “Why is he important?”

She looked at me expressionless. “How did he die?”

“LRRP patrol in Iraq. I was ten at the time.”

She gave me a look that suggested I was lying. “What was a Nobel Laureate in particle physics doing in a war zone, on a military patrol?” She got an 'Aha!' look, and suddenly I was dangling from her fist. “Your government in this world knew about Iraq's Mirror Project! He was no doubt part of the team sent to capture it. So it is possible he's still alive!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I shouted back at her. “Mirror Project? Nobel Laureate? Oh he got A-pluses in physics, and if his other grades were better, he probably would have gone to college, but he didn't have the cash. So he joined the Army to make use of the GI Bill.”

“What do you mean he didn't have the money?” She replied just as angry. “His patents made him a billionaire before he was twenty-five!”

“What patents? Sure he was an inventor, but nothing he did ever worked. We still have all of his stuff in the basement.”

She dropped me, and I sprawled on the floor. “Show me.”

I stood, and led the way. Mom had never had the heart to throw out his inventions, and the larger ones stood along the back wall with shelves full of boxes with the smaller ones. His washing machine that used what he called 'new tech' to make clothes cleaner, his 'static anti-collision' field, which was at the far end. She pointed. “The Parker cleaning system. A static field generator attached to a washing machine that caused dirt to literally spring away from clothes and later from dishes. And the original static field generator itself! I've seen it in the Smithsonian!” She rushed over, looking at them all as if she were a child in a toy aisle. Then she stopped, turning back to me. “Is the one in the Smithsonian a duplicate?”

I smiled sadly. “Like I said, nothing he designed ever worked.”

“But he found out that if he made the generator torus out of palladium it generated a static energy field that separates everything not made of the same material. The original if I remember, was silver.”

I walked over, and held up the ring of the generator torus, turning it so she could see all sides of it. “He made it out of stainless steel. It was what he could afford. Palladium is something like 750 dollars an ounce.” I looked at the four inch wide ring that looked like a simple washer. “This would set him back almost four thousand if it were made of palladium today. Back in 2003 when he died it was around 1000 an ounce, and silver only around 40.”

“What did he spend he money on then?” She challenged. “I spoke to him just last week, and he reminisced about when he went to Las Vegas as a present from his father at 18 and won a half million dollars at roulette.”

I put down the ring. “As for his Vegas trip, he 'reminisced about it' to me when I was six. How his father gave him 200 dollars spending money, and he blew it at the roulette wheel in one evening.

“That's the second time you've said something that made no sense. The government in 'this' world. And how could you talk to him last week if he's been dead for ten years?”

She sighed. “When we go to alternate dimensions, we are instructed to only observe. We bring back history and technology texts merely to see where that dimension split from our own, but we are enjoined from bringing back actual samples of that technic. We are taught that bringing technology back from them is dangerous because until it is thoroughly understood, we could destroy ourselves. For that matter telling anyone in another dimension that there even are alternate dimensions can have far reaching consequences.”

“So why are you telling me?”

“Because I know the you in my own dimension. You have always been a thoughtful young man, and your father trusts your judgement. I was instructed by him and my creator that in the event of an emergency, I was to find first my creator, if not him, find Henry Parker. Failing that, to find you to try to get home.”

“Your creator?”

She looked at me somberly. “Dimensional travel is too dangerous to allow humans to make the trip. Primarily because humans are weak and foolish. You have so many stories even now about all the possible damage that can be done.

“In a story dated from the 1970s the author had someone steal a dimensional shifter and jump around making drawings of simple devices, the things easily translated from one dimension to another with the least harm. But he dumps his stolen shifter, before he discovers that in the world he is now in, Edgar Rice Burroughs was known for his poetry rather than his Barsoom Pellucidar and Tarzan works. Do you follow?”

“Changes that small? Yes, I understand.”

“There are more modern stories of the same sort. In an animated television show called the Justice League of America, you have an alternate universe where the Justice League became the Justice Lords, and pretty much took over the world, but were now going into your dimension, kidnapping their counterparts, and intending to extend their idea of justice to your world.

“Or in 2001, the movie The One, where an officer in one dimension's 'Multiverse Authority' goes insane, and begins jumping from dimension to dimension killing off all of the versions of himself living in them to become all powerful until he is finally caught by his only remaining counterpart in your dimension, who is merely a sheriff's deputy.”

I looked at her for a long moment. “But you look human.”

She grinned. “Of course I do. It wouldn't help to conceal our project if I looked like C3P0 from Star Wars, would it? Back before my kind were created, humans had to make the 'jaunts' and every time someone went out, they became more worried. We hadn't even discovered your dimension yet, but there are stories as bad as the ones I mentioned in some of them about the possible ramifications.

“In 2001, the year after the project began, one of the people brought back not a drawing or description, but an actual piece of technology, against all rules or reason. In dimension 185 they had developed biomechanical robots for use in combat. He happened to land in an active combat zone, and found one that had been damaged enough that it was unrepairable, and brought it back. That caused four more jaunts to the same dimension to gather other damaged robots for a full examination.

“They did not try to repair them, only dismantled them for examination. The processes used in it's construction were within our grasp, and by redesigning the software of the computer, removing everything but the capability, not the direct intent of using force, they developed my design a year later.”

“Why not just reprogram them?”

“Dimension 185 is sealed, and no access is allowed from there or to there ever again.” She sighed. “Remember your Terminator movies? These belonged to a real Skynet which did cause a nuclear war, and is attempting the extermination Humanity there even now. Would you want to even try to just flip the switch and bring it to life here?

“My construction is just as robust as the terminators in your movies, and the programming they had can not be merely altered like it was in the second and third movies here. Let's just say that Skynet was smart enough to know that if one were captured, humans would try to use them against it. Their memories are hardwired rather than software.

“So if we had just 'rewitten' the progams and activated one, it would reactivate with the intent to destroy humanity in my dimension, and have full access to our own computers to do it.”

“But the terminators in the movies and the short lived TV show were an alloy chassis with human tissue covering it. Not biomechanical.”

“True. In the fourth Terminator movie here they were using magnetic mines that would literally attach themselves to terminators approaching a base. Something the original creator had not considered. My design is more like that used in a rather bad science fiction movie named Eve Of Desctruction made here in 1991. A robot indistinguishable from a human without literally taking it apart, that goes rogue when it is shot during a bank hold-up. It starred Gregory Hines and Dutch actress Renée Soutendijk.”

“So dad is dead here, what about your creator?”

“My creator, Toshiro Fujimoto was born the evening of August 5th, 1945 in the city of Hiroshima.” She looked at me sadly. “In this dimension, your Army Air Corps dropped the atomic bomb the next day. According to what I have learned by comparing the records to those of my home, he was in a hospital less than a kilometer from Ground Zero of that bomb when the city was destroyed.”

“So how do we get you home?”

“We don't.” She replied levelly. “While I know your father designed the original silver torus, and that the palladium one allowed dimensional travel, I do not have any of the specifications of a dimensional portal in my memory. We would not want one of the robots to be captured and examined, literally giving another technological dimension that knowledge. There is no guarantee that they would be as careful as we have been for the last decade.”

“But you were sent here!”

“She sighed. “That was an accident. In my world, your American government did invade Iraq back in 1991 during what you called Desert Storm. President Bush went further, pushing to Baghdad, captured Chemical Ali and Saddam Hussein, and after they were executed, bowed out.

“Five years later, an Islaamic fundamentalist government similar to your Iran arose, and during their war with the Shah's forces in our Iran happened to discover notes kept illegally by one of our researchers about the Project we had code named Mirror. That man had included enough clues that the Iraqi government were able to build a prototype that could have worked. I was part of the team that went in to stop them and destroy their project.

“However we arrived as they were running it up for their first test, and during the fighting, I was thrown through the gate, and ended up in Karbala, a stonghold of the Shi'a, who ran that government in our world. I had to escape from your Iraq through Saudi Arabia.”

“Then they would know...” She was shaking her head gently.

“The team was completely composed of other robots like myself. I was the one who set the charges in the portal room, and they had been set and activated before the grenade explosion that threw me through the gate. The charges would have already been set by others everywhere else, and the timers would have given them less than ten minutes to discover that I was missing, reach the portal room, read the dials, compute which dimension I was in, and carry them out before the charges blew. Therefore, they would have merely reported my loss.”

“But in the wreckage...” Again that head shake.

“What wreckage? The power needed to originally activate a gate is enormous, The full output from the Ostirak reactor was necessary just to charge the primary capacitor. As it is starting up, that power has to be reduced through the super-conductor capacitors over a period of hours, hours they did not have. Think of a half kiloton atomic bomb going off in the city in my world. Everything within over 100 meters of the gate would have been inside the fireball. Minimum safe distance would have been 3.5 kilometers, and even then the only ones that could survive that close would be my kind.

“Of course the explosion sealed the portal before your Karbala was destroyed. I merely awoke in the sewer system of the city because it is impossible to jaunt into solid matter, and the facility in my world was three hundred meters below ground.”

I stood. “This is too much for me. Care for something to drink? Or do you even have to drink?”

“My body is self suffiecient on internal nutrients for a period of fifteen years.” She replied. “However my programming does include social functions, such as meals or drinks. If you have it, my taste preference is for teas, especially green teas.”

“Green tea chai good for you?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.”

'To argue with those who have renounced the use and authority of reason is as futile as to administer medicine to the dead.' Now who said that?

From the one who brought you;
What we die for...
KOTOR excerpts
Star Wars: The Beginning
Star Wars: Republic Dawn
Return From Exile

Last edited by machievelli; 06-03-2013 at 11:35 PM.
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