Steph
analyzed the
painting displayed on the wall in front of her and laughed outwardly
at Mark’s trite attempt at humor.
“I
know, right?” she said. “I don’t get this whole modern art
thing either.” Inwardly, however, she marveled at the emotions that
the painting somehow evoked in her. It was dark, swirling, messy, and
yet somehow… optimistic. Like the artist was trying to project a
feeling of intense but temporary pain that he knew he would
eventually get through. Or maybe that was just how her mind
interpreted what it saw. Whatever the case, she could at least
appreciate the work.
Mark
moved over to the next painting, and Steph followed a step behind so
she could admire his ass. A small part of her felt disgusted, but for
now, she could ignore that.
They
continued through the trendy, modern-looking art gallery with Mark
constantly trying to impress her by criticizing each piece with
snarky, unoriginal humor. She didn’t like him much, which was fine;
it only made her job that much easier.
Steph
was analyzing some odd pottery that looked twisted and tortured when
Mark moved on to the last painting on display. He had hated
everything so far, but to her surprise he called out, “Now THIS
is a painting! Wow!”
“What
is it, sweetie?” she asked as she caught up. Then she saw it, and
her surprise evaporated.
Unlike
the rest of the art they had seen, which even Steph had to admit had
been a bit weird, this was a very realistic portrayal of a naked
woman draped across a couch in a sexy pose. And here Mark was,
proclaiming loudly right in front of his supposed date how much he
loved it.
Oh,
yes, she was definitely going to enjoy this job. To hell with his
cute ass.
They
had to walk several blocks through busy city streets to get to the
underground parking lot where Mark had left his BMW. He talked about
the stupid painting the entire way there.
“It
looked more like a photograph. See, that takes talent. That
is good art. That modern crap—or contemporary, whatever—a second
grader could make better looking ‘art.’ Those people shouldn’t
even be allowed…” He went on and on, mostly saying things he’d
already said two or three times that night. Steph had to resist
rolling her eyes as he rambled on.
“So,
where to now?” he asked Steph as he settled into the driver’s
seat a few minutes later. “You hungry, or do you want to catch a
show first?”
She
looked at him and laughed. "Sweetie, after seeing that
painting..." she leaned across the center console and brushed
her lips against his ear. She loved this part, but that aggravating
little part of her was horrified, just like it always was. You'd
think he would have gotten used to it by now,
Steph thought to herself. She nipped at Mark’s lobe and grinned at
the indignant rage that swelled in the corner of her mind, and then
she whispered, "What do you think I want to do?"
***
Mark
was quiet as he drove. Steph figured he was probably afraid of
ruining her mood. They were still a good twenty minutes away from
Mark's place, so she decided to start getting prepared and do a final
briefing with Stephen.
She
knew it wasn't necessary. She--or he, rather--or they? Steph still
wasn't even sure which one it was. They,
she
decided. They had done this a thousand times already, but regardless,
she still liked to be prepared as much as possible. It made her feel
a bit more in control of things.
She
withdrew a large Zip-Lock bag of pills from her purse. The irritating
part of her threw out feelings of amusement and annoyance. She almost
rolled her eyes at herself because of the sudden outburst. Instead,
she plucked out a couple of pills and swallowed them. She caught Mark
glancing at her sideways.
“What?”
“You
know how suspicious that looks, right?”
“Hm?”
“A
giant bag of unmarked pills that you’re constantly taking out and
popping into your mouth…”
“What,
are you gonna report me or something? We’ve already been over
this.”
“Yeah,
I get it. Hormone pills, very important for whatever disorder. But
why not just store them in a bottle? And do you really need that many
with you, at all times?”
Steph
was getting uncomfortable with the way the conversation was heading.
She had to get him off the subject. “Look, sweetie, the pills
should be the last thing on your mind right now.” Her hand
travelled up Mark’s leg, and he kept quiet.
With
the pills out of the way, she decided it was time to talk to Stephen.
She reached toward the familiar, testosterone-fueled part of her mind
and expanded it until it took control.
GOD
I FEEL DIRTY, thought Stephen, and then the control switched back to
the estrogen-driven portion of their mind where Steph reigned.
Oh
get over it, she
thought. You
say that every time. Like you didn't see it coming? Seriously, I
don't give you crap when you screw around with women.
THAT'S
DIFFERENT.
Oh?
How so?
BECAUSE
WOMEN ARE HOT.
You
are such an idiot.
SURE.
LOOK, I OBVIOUSLY KNOW WHAT YOU WANT. AND I KNOW YOU KNOW THAT I KNOW
HOW TO DO THE JOB. SO WHY THE HELL--
Yes,
Stephen, I get it, alright? But we're doing it anyway. So I'll start
off like always. I'm gonna have some fun with Mark, and you are going
to sit through it like a mature adult. I mean really, you love
watching porn, how is this any-
IT'S
DIFFERENT. SO, SO HORRIBLY DIFFERENT.
...How!?
No, just shut up. Ok, now then. As soon as he falls asleep, I'm going
to get up and go to the bathroom, then--
THEN
I COME OUT AND DO THE JOB. I KNOW.
...And
the job is?
SERIOUSLY?
ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS AGAIN?
…
I'M
GONNA TIE JIM UP, TAKE THE CASH FROM HIS SAFE, PRETEND TO LEAVE THE
HOUSE, GO BACK INTO THE BATHROOM, HIDE THE MONEY IN THE TOILET TANK
WHERE YOU CAN GET IT LATER, THEN YOU'LL COME BACK OUT-
I'll
come back out crying and sobbing about how I was just too scared to
come out of the bathroom. Good. And make sure you're a bit rough on
"Jim." He's a real piece of shit.
I
THOUGHT HE SEEMED PRETTY COOL.
Oh
God, of COURSE you did!
Steph
pushed Stephen back down into nothing but a small bundle of slightly
annoying male emotions. She was annoyed with him right now, and
wanted to be as much of a woman as she could be. She looked at Mark
and begged him in a sultry voice to hurry. He responded.
She
found herself reflecting on her and Stephen’s odd condition. She
did that a lot. It was hard not to, considering how much of a freak
she… they… were. She and Stephen were one and the same, really.
They weren’t two beings trapped in one body. She thought of
themselves as the male and female counterparts of one being, which
had been given the name Steve at birth.
Steph
wondered for the millionth time why it had been a baby boy that was
born. What the hell did that make her? When had Steve first turned
into Steph? How? Why? What composition of Steph and Stephen equaled
the true Steve? Was there even a "Steve" anymore? Were the
traits that Steph had all the “true” feminine traits, and vice
versa for Stephen, or just gender-neutral traits that they happened
to have? Did normal people have their own “Stephs” and “Stephens”
with certain fixed traits that mixed together to form that person's
personality?
Her
parents had refused to talk about it, and she was terrified of
talking to anyone else about it, like a therapist. What if they
couldn't contain themselves and released her condition to the world?
She'd seen movies. She and Stephen would be a spectacle, like circus
freaks, and they'd probably get abducted by some government agency
and dissected for research or something. And Stephen… He didn't
even think about it. She’d asked him once, and she considered his
reply to be the crown jewel of his stupidity.
"Just
accept it,” he’d said. “I think it’s a gift. I always hear
other guys say stuff like 'I wonder if sex feels better for women.' I
know the answer, and they never will. Plus, I have free access to a
nice rack whenever I want."
Steph
shook her head. How in God's name could she share so much with that
shallow… stupid… ridiculous… MAN!?
She couldn’t think of a worse insult at the moment; man
just
summed it up perfectly. It was almost impossible to have any kind of
conversation with him. It always degenerated into an argument within
minutes. She wondered why she even called it "conversation."
For lack of a better term, she supposed. They didn’t actually speak
to each other, because there was no “other” to speak to. Or maybe
there was? Maybe Steve was a schizo, and Steph and Stephen his two
personalities. But that wouldn’t explain the physical
transformation,
would it?
Steph
often wondered if every person was actually able to switch genders,
and they just hadn’t figured it out. She toyed with the idea of
making a how-to guide. “How to Meet Your Opposite Sex,” she’d
call it.
Step
1: Think
of a subject. Really think about it. Formulate an opinion. Any
subject will work; your opposing gender will certainly disagree with
whatever you come up with.
Step
2:
Search your mind for your opposing gender.
- If you’re a female, your masculine side may feel wild, chaotic, aggressive, confident, strong, independent, stubborn, impatient, prideful, assertive, and/or insensitive. The terms “shallow,” “simple minded,” and “jerk” may also come to mind.
(Steph
subconsciously changed into Stephen for a moment so he could describe
finding the female side)
- IF YOU ARE MALE, YOUR FEMININE SIDE MAY FEEL GENTLE, ORGANIZED, INTUITIVE, SENSITIVE, EMPATHETIC, COMPASSIONATE, NURTURING, EMOTIONAL, NEEDY, SUCCORANT, AND/OR SELF-CRITICAL. THE WORD “BITCHY” MIGHT ALSO COME TO MIND.
STEPH,
YOU THINK OF SOME REALLY WEIRD SHIT. FOCUS ON THE JOB.
Steph,
ignoring Stephen—and her annoyance—continued on her train of
thought.
Step
3:
Expand your opposite side. Let it take over. Don’t worry, you will
still be you, just with an outlook completely different from anything
you’ve ever experienced.
Step
4: Now
think of your subject again. You will notice how different your
opinion is. You will wonder how you could have thought differently
just a few moments before. Your other side, the side you just were,
your “true” side, may be irked by the new opinion, and you will
feel it wanting to take over again to counter you, to debate, to
argue.
Repeat
steps 1 through 4 to engage in a wonderful, insightful conversation
with yourself. Enjoy your new-found perspective on life.
Steph
laughed at her silly idea.
“What?”
asked Mark.
“Nothing,”
she replied. But it was something. She felt better about herself now.
Stephen was right, even if the way he came to the same conclusion was
so obviously wrong. What they had gave them an edge over everybody
else. They could analyze things in a way that nobody else—as far as
she knew—could. They really did have a gift.
***
Stephen
stared at his nude reflection in the mirror hanging from Jim’s
bathroom wall. He still couldn’t help but feel amazed and disgusted
with his body every time it changed. Why was that? It had been this
way all his life, but it still wasn’t normal to him. Then again,
fat chicks who were fat their whole lives weren’t comfortable with
their bodies, either. So maybe it isn’t so weird.
Asshole!
Stephen
chuckled at Steph’s angry outburst. Why were women so touchy about
weight? Turning away from the mirror, Stephen bent down to pick up
Steph’s underwear, then withdrew a length of tough nylon paracord
from a pocket on the inside. He did one final check to make sure he’d
gotten all of Steph’s clothes and accessories off—he’d
forgotten the earrings once, and the bastard they’d robbed, even
with a gun in his face, hadn’t been able to silence his laughs.
Once
he was certain he’d stripped everything off, he crept out of the
bathroom and down a dark hallway. Like always, he felt an odd sense
of vulnerability as he made his way through the strange house without
clothes on. Why should he
feel vulnerable? He was the hunter, stalking his prey.
He
stopped in the entryway to Jim’s room and listened until he heard
Jim snoring, then tip-toed to the bedside table where Jim kept a .45
caliber Smith and Wesson revolver. He grabbed the decorative handle
that adorned the front of the drawer containing the pistol and pulled
carefully. The motion was so smooth that even Stephen, crouched down
with his head right next to the drawer, could barely hear the rasp of
wood scraping on wood as it glided open. It was obviously well built
and likely expensive, just like everything else in Jim’s giant,
custom built, modern-looking hilltop mansion.
With
the drawer finally open enough for his hand to fit through, he
reached in and grabbed the gun, finger on the trigger, and snatched
it out. Then he ripped the covers away from the bed and yelled, “Rise
and Shine, Jimmy!”
Stephen’s
stomach dropped. Jim was gone, and in his place was a realistic
looking sex doll and a digital recorder playing back the sound of
Jim’s snoring.
All
at once, lights burst through the windows and men poured in from the
hallway. They formed a ring around the entire room. Within moments,
the barrels of at least a dozen assault rifles were pointing straight
at Stephen’s torso.
“Hello,
Steve Fischer.”
Stephen
turned towards the voice and found Jim standing in the entryway with
a cocky smile on his face. He prepared his body for a fight, pushing
himself as far towards masculinity as he was able. His muscles
bulged. His mind screamed at him to hit something. Jim’s arrogant
face seemed to Stephen like it was begging to meet with his fist. He
was about to tell Jim to fuck off and lunge at him when he noticed
the name he’d just used. He knew. Stephen reverted back to a more
balanced mindset. If he knew, then he would have this place locked
down. There was no way Stephen was getting out. “What do you want?”
he asked cautiously.
“Nothing
but your cooperation.”
“Cooperation
doing what?”
“You
don’t need the details. But because I’m kind, I’ll let you know
that you will be contributing to the betterment of mankind, and in
return, your name will be immortalized. You’re going to do great
things, Steve. How does that sound?”
It
sounded exactly like the answer Stephen had expected. Exactly like
the life Steph had always said they were heading towards. Stephen
scrambled for ideas. There had to be something, some way to get out
of this room. But there wasn’t. Not with this much firepower
concentrated on him.
YOU
WERE RIGHT STEPH. I’M SORRY. THIS IS YOUR CALL.
Do
it.
Stephen
pressed the revolver under his chin and pulled the trigger. He saw
the blinding flash, heard the deafening roar, felt the searing heat
of the explosion as it blasted out of the barrel. And then he was
staring at the ceiling, still very much alive.
Jim’s
smile was gone. He stared at Stephen without a hint of emotion
showing on his face. Stephen stared back, and in Jim’s eyes, he saw
a smoldering hatred that stunned him. “We aren’t stupid, as you
will come to learn soon enough. Those were blanks.” He turned his
back to Stephen without saying another word and walked out of the
room.
Stephen
didn’t resist as one of the men rolled him over, digging a knee
into his back painfully and handcuffing his wrists together. He
finally understood why Steph had always called their condition a
curse, and now it was too late. Another man kneeled down and began to
prep a syringe. He filled it with a clear liquid from a tiny bottle,
tipped it up, squeezed until liquid shot out, and then injected the
drug into Stephen’s arm.
***
Stephen
woke up with a splitting headache. He sat up and took in his
surroundings, expecting the worst. What he found instead surprised
him. The room was small, but not cramped. The lighting was dim, but
only because the source was a fire roaring in a decorative fireplace.
He was lying in a comfortable twin-sized bed instead of on a cot, or
a concrete floor, or strapped to a hospital bed like he had been sure
he would be. Most of the wall space was covered by shelves that were
filled with books. A big overstuffed chair sat in front of the
fireplace. A nice-sized LCD TV sat on a stand in front of a leather
couch. The floor was mostly carpeted except in one corner of the room
that was occupied by a toilet and a small stretch of ground in front
of a kitchen area, both of which had tiled floors. The kitchen was a
bit of a joke, but it looked serviceable; a sink with a cabinet
underneath, one cupboard hanging on the wall above, and a mini fridge
to the side with a microwave sitting on top of it.
Unconsciously,
he changed his mind to Steph and looked around the room again. The
“kitchen” had no counter space. The wooden cupboard above the
sink was a darker brown than the sink cabinet. The carpet was an ugly
brownish-gold color that didn’t match anything else in the room,
although it did at least look thick and soft. The tile in the
“bathroom” and “kitchen” was a flat, boring tan that—big
surprise—didn’t match anything else. The wood of the bookshelves
was a golden color that didn’t match the dark wood paneling
covering the walls behind. The chair by the fireplace was red
material, but the couch was black leather. The only
two things in the room that went together were the TV stand, which
was black-varnished wood, and the couch.
It
was nice of them to look out for her comfort and all, but if they had
to cut costs, couldn’t they have at least gone to Ikea or something
to buy some matching furniture sets? And none of it helped to hide
the big slate-grey metal door.
THEY
DON'T WANT
TO HIDE THE DOOR, STEPH. IT REMINDS US OF WHERE WE ARE.
Thank
you, Stephen, I’d have never figured that out. I'm not stupid. I’m
just saying, it’s ugly.
The
overhead lights switched on, bathing the room in harsh, artificial
white light. The room had seemed cozy in the gentle light of the
fire, but now it just felt restrictive. Steph heard a loud click,
then a metallic scrape. Somebody was unlocking the door.
Stephen
made a split-second decision to rush whoever was coming through. If
he was lucky, he could surprise them and escape. The door started to
open. Stephen rolled off of the bed. His foot met the ground
first—Steph was right, the carpet was soft—and he pushed off.
Instead of propelling him forward, his leg folded. He belly-flopped
onto the floor, knocking the wind out of him.
Jim
walked in to the sight of Stephen, still naked, ass to the air,
gasping for breath. He laughed. Hard. In that moment, something rare
happened. Steph and Stephen were in complete agreement. Their entire
mind was focused on their mutual hatred.
“Looks
like the drugs aren’t completely out of your system,” Jim said
through his laughs. “Good. Cover it up and sit it on the couch.”
It?
Jim’s
orders were directed to two men who had followed him in. Their
snickering only somewhat hampered them as they pulled Stephen to his
feet and fit him into a bathrobe. They walked him to the couch and
dropped him down unceremoniously, then withdrew as Jim pulled over a
footrest that had been hidden from Stephen’s sight.
“You
can come in now,” he called as he sat down.
An
attractive auburn-haired woman walked into the room. She had a sexy,
professional look. Stephen couldn’t help but admire her figure,
despite protests from Steph. The woman held a voice recorder in one
hand. She smiled at Stephen and sat at the opposite end of the couch.
“Hello, Steve,” she said, “How are you?” Stephen put his head
between his knees and didn’t respond. He was feeling nauseous.
“Answer
her,” Jim said coolly.
“I
have been itching to tell you this… Fuck off.” Stephen looked
into Jim’s eyes defiantly, his nausea forgotten. In the span of a
moment he saw anger, then that burning hatred, then amusement. He
realized that this was not a balanced man. He hid behind a calm
demeanor, but only barely. This was a good thing. If Stephen could-
Jim
slapped Stephen across the side of his head, like a patronizing
father disciplining an unruly child. Steph took control to keep
Stephen from losing his cool. She looked back to the woman in the
too-tight dress suit with the plunging neck like. She was staring
down Jim with a stern look on her face.
“James,
outside,” she said as she stood up and walked back out of the room.
Mark—Damnit, Jim—No, shit, James, apparently—he looked
irritated, but he stood up and followed the woman out. Steph could
hear their hushed, angry voices, but couldn’t make out the words.
They argued for several minutes. Steph smiled. She didn’t know what
their intentions were, but so far she’d learned a hell of a lot
more about them than they had of her.
The
woman returned alone.
“Please
accept my apologies, Steve. Despite the actions of certain people, we
have every intention of giving you a comfortable life here. I promise
that nobody else will lay a hand on you… so long as you
don’t
try harm anyone else.”
Steph
was taken aback, but Stephen recovered quickly. “Let’s get this
straight,” he said. “You took away the ‘comfortable life’
that I already had by putting me at gun point, drugging me, and
throwing me in a cell--and don’t kid yourself, no amount of cheap
furniture changes what this is--and now you’re acting like giving
me your version of a ‘comfortable life,’ minus my fucking
freedom,
is a bargain deal?”
The
woman smiled and sat down on the footrest in front of Stephen. “You
know, we’ve been watching you for a while. You’ve hurt a lot of
people, Steve. You stole their life savings, their identities… Even
some of their lives.”
Stephens’s
eyes widened. How could she possibly know about that? “That was an
accident. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Oh?
We can let the court of law decide that, if you’d like.”
Realization
dawned on Stephen. “So you aren’t with the law. Or, I’m
guessing, with any kind government agency. Who are you? What do you
want with me?”
“My
point, Steve,” she continued, ignoring his questions, “is that
your previous lifestyle wasn’t going to last. You had some powerful
people tracking you down, you know. Other than us, I mean. It was
only a matter of-”
“Look,
lady, I got it. It’s not like you were very subtle. You have dirt
on me and life here is better than it would be in prison. I’m very
threatened. I’ll be a proper good boy. Now answer my questions.”
The
woman’s smile widened to a grin. She turned the recorder on and set
it in her lap. "I want to start by asking a few general
questions about your life. As we both know, you were born a boy. When
did you first become female?"
Steph
answered, "Now there's a million dollar question.”
The
woman paused a long moment before continuing. "You know, I have
a vague idea of how you work. I've been watching you for quite a
while. I would like your... perspective, I suppose… to align with
my questions. For now, at least. So do you mind letting "Steph"
answer any questions that I have regarding your female side?"
Relief
washed through Steph. She had started to think that the woman really
did know everything about her, but she had just revealed her
ignorance. She thought that “Steve” had to change his entire body
to be “Steph” or “Stephen.” She didn’t realize that their
mind could change separately from their body. Steph started briefing
with Stephen. They’d rehearsed for this job more times than she
could count.
Whoever
these people are, they’re in way over their heads.
THANK
GOD FOR YOUR PARANOIA, STEPH. I KNOW WHAT TO DO, LET’S JUST GET
THINGS MOVING.
“My
mother was pretty old when she gave birth to me.” Steph said.
“Excuse
me?”
“Old
enough that she was experiencing menopause when I was only six years
old.”
“What
does this have to do with-“
“The
doctors prescribed her hormone pills. Estrogen. They looked a lot
like candy to a little boy.”
The
woman finally kept her mouth shut, so Steph continued.
“I
ate a handful of them one day, and voila!
Mom
came home to find a little girl instead of her son. That’s when and
how, and that’s why Steph can’t answer your questions right now.”
“Fascinating.
So those pills you take every day, from the clear plastic bag…”
“Yes.
Hormone pills, both testosterone and estrogen. I steal them in bulk
from hospitals. They work as the fuel that powers my… ability.”
“But
doesn’t your body produce those hormones by itself?”
“Not
enough.”
The
woman stood up and left the room, then came back a few minutes later.
“I’ve
sent James to get what you need. Until then, we will continue our
session.”
“You
aren’t getting anything more until you answer my questions.”
The
woman let out an exasperated sigh. “My name is Joan, and I want to
study you. Now, then. How did your parents react?”
“Study
me for what?”
“Research.”
“Stop
deflecting. What are you researching?”
Joan
slapped Steph across the face. “Don’t forget your place here,”
Joan said icily, “How did your parent’s react?”
Steph
gave the truth. She needed to stall until her pills came. “They
called me an abomination, an affront to God. They were very
religious, and I realize now that I challenged their beliefs. How
could only men be priesthood holders if I was both man and woman?
They told me never to do it again, and to keep my mouth shut or God
would damn me to hell.”
Joan
didn’t reply, stretching out an uncomfortable silence.
“How
did that make you feel?”
“…Are
you shitting me?” Stephen answered, “Is this some kind of therapy
session?”
“I
need to understand you. Answer the question.”
“I
don’t fucking remember. I was so young, I didn’t understand. I
knew I’d done something wrong, that was all.”
“Hm.
Very good information. Thank you, Steve. Now, how did you keep Steph
a secret?”
“Very
carefully.”
More
uncomfortable silence. Steph took the time to analyze Joan. She was
pretty,
she had to admit. And slutty. Steph figured that she must be used to
working with men, and she used her beauty to disarm them. If she
worked with women more often, she’d have realized that showing off
her tits and wearing a tight skirt that accentuated her ass would
only bring disdain from Steph.
SHE
THINKS SHE’S TALKING TO STEPHEN, REMEMBER?
Steph
laughed.
But
she still knew she would be talking to me, at some point.
“What’s
funny?” asked Joan.
“Nothing.
What did you ask? Oh right, keeping Steph secret. Wasn’t too hard,
I just lived as Steve. Or Stephen, as I would later come to call my
male side. Steph was there. I could feel her. But it wasn’t her
life.”
Joan
paused a moment and gave them a quizzical look, then continued. “When
did you start changing into Steph again? You would have had to
purposefully steal more estrogen pills.”
What
was taking Jim so long with those damn pills? Steph was growing
uncomfortable with revealing so much about her life. “It was early
in High School. I started to think that I’d made the whole thing
up, or it’d just been a dream or something. So I stole some more of
my mom’s pills. Turns out it was no dream. I was old enough by then
to be curious about… certain things. I started turning into Steph a
lot more. I was a horny teenager, after all.”
Joan
shifted uncomfortably. Red blossomed onto her cheeks. “Oh. Um...
Okay, so-”
Stephen
saw her discomfort and gave Joan a predatory smile. “Do you have
any idea what it’s like to fuck a man who knows exactly
where it feels best?”
Joan’s
face went a darker shade of red. Steph suspected that this was the
most uncomfortable silence yet for Joan. It was uncomfortable for
her, too. But not for Stephen.
Jim
finally returned with the bag of pills before Joan had recovered.
“What did I miss?” he asked as he plopped the bag onto the couch
next to Steph. Joan babbled something in response, but Steph didn’t
hear. She was staring at the bag.
THE
DUMBASS BROUGHT THE WHOLE BAG.
The
hormone pills were a testament to Steph’s extreme paranoia... And,
as it turned out, her incredible genius. Stephen would kiss Steph
right now, if she wasn’t him. He had called her crazy countless
times, but she’d always reply that she would save their life
someday. She had been right.
The
truth was, they didn’t actually need the pills to change sexes.
Their body provided enough hormones to change whenever they wanted.
Still, at Steph’s insistence, they had been carrying around that
bag of hormone pills for over a decade now, popping one of
each—Estrogen and Testosterone—into their mouth constantly,
making sure that everybody saw it so that if they ever somehow got
abducted, they could lie and say that they needed the pills. Stephen
thought it was bat-shit crazy, planning for the day they got
kidnapped, but… Well, look at them now. He picked up the bag and
started picking out testosterone pills, tossing one after the other
into his mouth. He’d swallowed ten before they even noticed.
“What
are you doing?” asked Joan.
Steph
kept popping the pills.
“That’s
enough! Stop!”
Joan
grabbed the bag away from Stephen. She was too late. He’d just
ingested more testosterone than he ever had before. All he had to do
now was wait for it to kick in.
“What
did you just do?”
“Nothing,”
Steph replied, “I’m just nervous. They help calm me. Now,”
Steph smiled at Joan, “where were we?”
Joan
flushed again. “How long before you can change?”
Steph
smiled with Stephen’s face. She could already feel the testosterone
building. That was one of the curious things about their body; they
could absorb hormones insanely fast. Steph guessed that the pills
would be in her system completely within ten minutes.They were going
to need to need every scrap of testosterone that they could get, so
she had to put their use of it to a minimal level for the next few
minutes. That meant being Steph completely. She accelerated her use
of Estrogen as much as she could and pushed the growing well of
potent testosterone away. She didn’t need a mirror to know the
transformation that took place: Stephen’s thick, slightly curly mop
of hair thinning and straightening to make an attractive women’s
cut (it had taken a while to find a cut that worked well for both of
them); eyebrows becoming thinner and slightly arched; eyelashes
extending; eyes lightening to hazel instead of Stephen’s deep
brown; cheekbones raising subtly; nose transforming from big and
mannish to petite, with a delicate bridge; lips becoming fuller; chin
shrinking and going pointier (she’d always hated her chin, even if
Stephen insisted that it was attractive); chest shrinking
horizontally while expanding outward, converting from Stephen’s
broad, well-muscled pecks to her respectably sizeable breasts; waist
narrowing, and hips narrowing slightly less to form an hourglass
figure; sex changing; legs slimming; and finally, thankfully, body
hair thinning, even shedding in some places. She would go crazy if
she had to keep those hideous, hairy legs. The entire process only
took moments. It was so fast that Joan almost seemed to miss it. Her
eyes widened when she realized what she had just witnessed.
“Oh
my God,
it’s really true.”
“What?”
asked Jim, “It changed? That fast?” He circled around the couch
and looked at Steph.
“I
told you! Thank God! Let me look at you. Come on, stand up!”
It
took a moment for Steph to realize what he was asking. “What?”
“Take
the robe off. I need to see.”
“What?
No!”
Jim’s
face went dark. Steph thought twice about her refusal and realized
that it didn’t make sense. She needed to buy time, and she’d
already slept with the pig anyway. Still, it galled her. Her face
burned as she opened her robe. Jim’s eyes wandered over her body.
“Incredible.
Stand up.”
Steph,
in the full grips of estrogen, couldn’t help but notice the bulge
that was forming in Jim’s pants. It was disgusting. Revolting. And
yet… She couldn’t help but think of how it had felt inside her.
She bit her lip and squirmed in her seat as-
WHAT
THE FUCK!?
Oh,
shit. Stephen, stop wasting testosterone!
Steph
stamped Stephen back down and regained her composure.
“I-I
can’t stand. You drugged me,” she lied. The testosterone was
counteracting the drugs nicely.
“Right,”
he mumbled as he walked out of the room. He came back in with the
same two men who’d put the robe on him. They leered at her and
smirked as they hauled her up from the couch. One of them groped her
breast. Neither Jim nor Joan did anything about it as they circled
her, making comments as if she was a cow at the market. Steph had
never felt so humiliated in her life.
“Now
change back to Stephen, right here, so we can see,” Jim said.
“No,
wait,” Joan interjected, “let me talk to Steph first.”
“That
can wait, Joan. We have her standing here alrea-”
“James,
we will
follow my methods, as you agreed. Put her back on the couch.”
The
two men complied, then left the room again. Jim was muttering curses
as he moved around to the back of the couch and rested his weight on
his forearms.
“Steph,
I would like to know about your difficulties connecting with people.
It must have been difficult, growing up without being able to get to
close to anyone. How could you, when you weren’t even sure who you
should love?”
The
question caught Steph completely off guard.
“Yes,
it was.”
“I
would like to know, in particular, about Jason. Why him? Why then?”
Steph
couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Why did that bitch have to
ask this question now, when she was at her most vulnerable? She
couldn’t control her emotions when she had this much estrogen
coursing through her. Just the thought of Jason put a lump in her
throat.
She
knew she shouldn’t answer, but the vulnerability caused by what was
happening and the unbalanced hormones combined with the need she’d
felt for years now to confide in someone. She was so tired of not
having anyone to share her life with. Her walls crumbled, and her
reservations went with them.
Through
newly formed tears, her voice strained, she heard herself say it. “I
loved him so much.”
“Why?”
Stephen
stirred. He was trying to take control. Steph wasn’t about to allow
it. “He was kind. He was different. He loved me for me. Or I
thought he did. We were together for over a year. I was hardly ever
Stephen during that time, because I was so happy with being Steph,
and being with Jason. But my curse kept nagging at me. He had to
know, or else I was living a lie. I was lying to him, every single
day, and I couldn’t take it. So I showed him.”
“How
did he respond?”
“He
panicked. He said that he had to go. He told his dad, who obviously
didn’t believe him. So Jason brought him to see me. I… I like to
think that Jason still loved me, and he was just in shock, looking
for approval, for validation that what he was seeing was real.”
“Please
describe what happened.”
Steph,
who was usually so good at reading people, at watching their body
language and catching slight shifts in their tones, was completely
oblivious to the edge in Joan’s voice. Stephen was practically
screaming at her, but she stamped him down. She had to get this off
her chest. It felt so damn good.
“His
father shared my parent’s religion. They were a cult called the
Children of the Morning, and they very much believed that men held
dominion over women. It was core to their beliefs. I challenged…
No, I disproved
everything that the Children believed. My parents couldn’t bring
themselves to report me to them since I was their only child, but
Jason’s father held no such reservations. He decided to sacrifice
me to his Gods, right then and there. Jason wouldn’t allow it. They
fought, and it turned violent. Jason lost, but not before stabbing
his father. I could have called an ambulance, and yes, they probably
could have saved him. It took over an hour for the son of a bitch to
bleed out. So if you want to call me a murderer, go right ahead. I
have no regrets. That bastard took Jason from me.”
Steph
wiped away her tears and finally looked into Joan’s eyes. She had
expected to see sadness over the tragic story, and maybe even a bit
of pity. Instead, she saw anger.
“You
don’t even remember his name, do you?”
“Name?
Who’s? Jason’s father?”
“Richard.
He was Richard, you murdering cunt!”
Steph’s
head reeled. She couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening.
“Who
are you, Joan?”
“Richard
was my uncle. He raised me as one of his own, and YOU
TOOK HIM FROM ME!”
Joan’s screams reverberated through the room. Steph was too shocked
to respond. “I’ll bet you thought you’d gotten away with it,
but justice always catches up, Steph.”
“That’s
enough,” Jim said. Steph agreed. They had finished absorbing the
testosterone. “Joan, you should have told me about this before.
We’ll need to re-evaluate your position in this. Step out, cool off
for a few minutes.”
“Wait,”
Steph called out, “Joan, sit back down. Did I tell you about the
time I spent in Juvie?” Joan didn’t reply. “I was attending
George Washington High in the beginning of tenth grade. I played
baseball, and Steph had a big crush on one of the guys on my team
named John Caffrey. We slipped up one day, and Steph started flirting
with him while we were still in Stephen’s body.”
“Wait,
what are you saying?” Jim said. “Have you been lying to us? You
can be Steph in your mind, but in the body of Stephen, can’t you?”
“Yes.
Anyway, the whole team started giving me shit, calling me a fag,
among other things. I snapped. I discovered something incredible that
day. I could push myself harder
into
one gender, becoming more masculine or feminine. In this case,
masculine. I was like a wild animal. I brutalized John. He almost
died. I still remember the incredible strength that I felt as I beat
my fists into his face over and over and over. The powerful need to
survive, to dominate, to kill. I was an alpha male.”
Joan
stood up. Her face blanched. “You’re saying that you burned
through a lot of testosterone aren’t you? Since that’s what you
described as your ‘fuel.’ And it made you stronger, faster, and
highly aggressive. How much testosterone did you just take out of
that bag?”
A
slow smile spread across Steph’s face. “Clever girl.”
“Shit,”
Jim cursed as he fumbled with a pair of handcuffs that dangled from
his belt.
Steph
opened the flood gates on the massive pool of testosterone that had
pooled within their body. Stephen heard ripping and popping sounds as
his body morphed, doubling and tripling in size. He knew that it was
causing damage, but all he felt was the power,
the
tempest of animalistic rage that drove out any sense of pain or
rational thought.
Jim
pulled his revolver from his hip and yelled something. Words were
beyond Stephen, but he recognized the threat and attacked, leaping
over the back of the couch.
The
pistol fired. Jim was on the ground. Everything went red. Somebody
was screaming. Stephen turned towards the sound. Joan was holding
Jim’s gun. Stephen looked at the ground around him. Most of Jim’s
body was at his feet. Limbs had been separated. Blood was everywhere.
Joan fired.
Stephen
felt the impact this time, and then instinct took back over. More
gunshots. Stephen had Joan by the throat.
Backup
finally arrived. They looked like the same men who had ambushed
Stephen in Jim’s bedroom. He threw Joan towards the doorway as the
first two men entered. She crashed into both of them. Their bodies
tangled together, and the mess blocked up the doorway long enough for
Stephen to close the distance. None of them could get their guns on
him without shooting each other.
They
tried to use batons, but they were so crowded in the hallway that
they couldn’t get any good hits in. A few got Tasers on him, but he
barely noticed. The knives came out. They bit into his flesh, but he
felt no pain. Seeing the slaughter, one desperate man pulled out the
Mace. It filled the hallway. Stephen didn’t notice, but they did.
He finished off the last hacking, wheezing man with a knife to his
chest. He didn’t know how or when the knife he’d grabbed the
knife, but now images flashed through his mind of the carnage he’d
caused with it: The blade slamming into a man's stomach; slashing
across another’s face; lacerating Joan's throat as she begged for
him to stop. Stephen fell to his knees and emptied his stomach, and
then Steph and Stephen, kneeling in a pool of blood, bile, and tears,
wept together.
***
They
took an elevator up and found that they were still in Jim’s
supposed hilltop home. A few more guards were present, but they were
dispatched easily. They found a little room with multiple computer
monitors set up, all showing a different view of the room below. It
was completely destroyed, and there was blood everywhere. Jim’s
lifeless eyes were staring into one of the cameras. They opened the
case of the computer that ran the surveillance system and put a
bullet through the hard drive.
They
wandered up some stairs and into Jim’s office. His computer was on.
He had left it unlocked. Right on the desktop was a folder titled
“Steve Fischer.” They moved the mouse over the file.
Wait.
Find out his real name first.
They
opened Chrome and went to Facebook. His account was logged in. The
name was James Reynolds.
NEVER
HEARD OF HIM. YOU?
Nope.
They
closed Chrome and moved the mouse back over to the file with their
name on it, then noticed another next to it that said “Jamie.”
Curious, they opened it first. It was full of pictures of nude
women’s bodies with James’s face photoshopped on.
WHAT
THE FUCK?
They
backed out and opened their folder. Inside were multiple Word
documents and another folder that said “pics.” They opened it and
found thousands of candid pictures of either Steph or Stephen going
about their daily lives. James had been watching them for a long
time. They backed up to the previous folder and started browsing the
Word documents. James’s notes made for a nice journal. It turned
out several of their “Marks” had been James’s friends. The
disadvantage with targeting rich people was that they all knew each
other, some way or another. James had been present when Steph had
first started courting a new Mark. James suspected the worst, knowing
that a woman matching Steph’s description had just conned two of
his other friends, so he’d hired someone to follow her. That
someone had been watching through the windows one night when Steph
changed into Stephen.
WELL,
SHIT. I GUESS NO MORE CHANGING UNLESS WE’RE IN A ROOM WITH NO
WINDOWS.
Mixed
feelings of horror, anger, and amusement spread through them as they
continued reading.
“6/08-
I finally caught Its attention. It asked me to go to some art show or
something next weekend. Started prepping Its room. Made Joan aware.
Very excited.”
It?
IT? Fucking asshole!
“6/09-
Visited the hormone therapy center again. They still say I’m not
eligible due to ‘health concerns.’ Steve Fischer is my only
hope.”
WELL
THAT CONFIRMS WHO “JAMIE” IS.
“6/12-
Joan confirmed that she will help me analyze Steve in the hopes that
she can help me learn how to change like It. Hired a team of
ex-special forces. Everything is falling into place.”
“6/15-
Amazing progress already, and we just started! It turns out that It
uses hormones, testosterone and estrogen, to cause the sex change. My
hope is that with training, I can force my body to do what”
The
last note ended there.
WHAT
A FREAK.
Is
he? Does that make us freaks?
WELL…
YES… BUT I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE WHOLE ABDUCTING PEOPLE JUST TO GET
WHAT HE WANTS THING.
Oh.
True. So what do you think? Would you have just helped him out if, in
exchange, he’d agreed to keep his mouth shut?
MAYBE.
PROBABLY. WOULDN’T HAVE HAD MUCH CHOICE. WE AREN’T KILLERS.
We
weren’t.
Stephen
had nothing to say to that.
How
are we even alive still? I think we have at least six bullet holes in
us.
BEATS
ME. GUESS WE’RE LIKE A SUPER HERO OR SOMETHING. YEAH, WE’D MAKE A
GOOD COMIC. “HERMAPHRODITE HULK,” A BIG “HH” ON OUR SUIT. NO,
NEVERMIND, THAT’S A MOUTHFUL, IT’D NEVER CATCH ON… LETS SEE…
We’re
no hero, Stephen, Steph
interrupted.
He
had nothing for that either.
AT
LEAST WE KNOW NOW THAT YOU WERE RIGHT ALL THIS TIME… WE CAN’T
TRUST PEOPLE. I GUESS YOU LEARNED THAT AFTER JASON, BUT… WELL,
THAT’S THE SECOND TIME WE’VE BEEN DISCOVERED, AND BOTH TIMES
DIDN’T GO VERY WELL. SECOND TIME’S THE CHARM FOR ME. SO WHAT NOW?
Stephen…
you definitely don’t need to explain to me that you don’t learn
very quickly.
HEY-
Kidding.
You just saved our ass, after all. We’re two sides. Opposites. We
both have our pitfalls. I can’t believe how naïve I was, telling
so much to Joan. That only would have worked against us if we’d
failed to escape. Anyway, we got out, so it doesn’t matter. We’ll
start by burning this place down. Then we’ll disappear and start a
new life. Won’t be the first time. Probably won’t be the last.
We’ll decide later who gets to live this time. I think we’re
about even right now, so we’ll probably just flip a coin. Sound
good?
SOUNDS
FINE TO ME.
We
have a plan, then. We’ll do a briefing later, to work out the
details. For now, let’s go find some gas.
