Daughters Eve Ch 01

Daughters of the American Evolution - Eve, Ch. 01

This story is part of a series called "Daughters of the American Evolution." The stories are all based on the concept of an allegedly sinister (some say beneficent) organization called 'Families Interaction Therapists', or FIT, that has put into action a plan to subliminally convert every female on earth to lesbianism, and to non-violently reduce the number of men on earth by 98%.

Eve's story is the account of how it all began....

* * * *

24 December 1981

[Police radio transmission - Seattle Police Department]

...Unit 1073, proceed to alley at NE 50th Street, west side of University of Washington campus. Report of two suspicious males. Proceed with caution...

The scene the two officers found there was horrific in its savagery.

* * * *

25 December 1981

"What are our options, Doctor?" asked the tall, black-haired man. He was wearing a long-sleeved golf sweater with its logo of a small crocodile on the breast, and a neatly pressed pair of khaki slacks. The anticipatory cringe apparent in his otherwise proud bearing made him seem much smaller than his true height. Away down the hospital hallway, Christmas music played.

"Do you know yet what happened, exactly?" the doctor, an ER physician at Seattle's Swedish Medical Center asked.

"I dunno for sure," the man replied. "The police tell me that she was found in an alley with her head-" the man began crying.

"-her head bashed in like that." he finished, after a pause. "And all the rest...her clothes practically shredded. How could any man treat a woman...a girl...like that?"

"They said it was two men," the man said softly, though the doctor hadn't asked. The man assumed his more normal bearing as he recovered himself, looking down at the ER doctor, his eyes now not flickering away, somehow steelier.

"There appears to be no brain activity whatsoever," the balding physician answered. "I wish I had some other answer for you, but it would be cruel to lead you on with false hope. Given the amount of damage, I recommend that the life support be removed." He hesitated.

The man nodded. "I can see that." He sighed, perhaps the deepest sigh the physician had ever heard in a career full of such things. "Yes, I give my permission. I'll sign the necessary approvals."

The doctor hesitated again, but finally forced out his request.

"You should also consider donating her organs - there's a tremendous need. Many people take comfort in the fact that their loved one can live on through others...perhaps she might have wanted that...." His voice rose into a gentle question.

"Yes, I guess I can see that she's done for," the man's voice choked up as emotion overcame him. "Do it...the donation...please..." He was unable to say more, tears streaming down his handsome face, his body again bent over in grief.

From that moment, the machinery of medicine took over. The woman - girl, really - was treated with the utmost compassion, but the inescapable fact was that she had, in an instant, passed from human being to a harvest bonanza for the infant practice of organ transplants. Fortunately, the Swedish Medical Center was Seattle's leading transplant center.

* * * *

11 June 1989

"Tommy, I...I don't know how to say this, but I think we should take, well, a sabbatical from each other," Eve said. Her eyes searched the young man's expression. To her relief, he at least didn't look hurt, or surprised.

"Yeah, I'd felt you becoming a little distant," he said, with a wry smile. "And when you told me you wanted to get as far away from me as possible..."

"Now, you know it wasn't like that!" Eve replied, smiling herself, always finding Tommy's good humor infectious. "When I got the job offer in Australia, I certainly had to consider it. And for what they're offering, and what it would do for my career - Andrew Holstead is a world renowned virologist. Besides, I'll be back. The contract is only for three years. Who knows, maybe they'll hate me!"

"I sincerely doubt that," Tommy said. "I suspect you'll be a big hit. But, no worries," he continued. "They say that there, don't they?

'No worries, mate.'

But let's be realistic. Long distance love affairs usually don't work out. If...or when, you come back, if we're both in a position to pick up the threads, then great. And if not, well, que sera sera." "But I bet you'll miss the southern Cal beaches..." he joked.

The two hugged, and kissed briefly. The girl walked away, and didn't look back.

* * * *

15 August 1989

"Hello, my name's Eve Butler," the young college-aged woman said. "Um, I'm beginning work here today - in the Research and Development Lab - could you please let Dr. Holstead know I'm here?"

The woman was five foot, four inches tall, with medium length dark blonde hair, very curly, in the 'big hair' style of that era. Her eyes were intelligent and brown, her teeth even and white, her nose of a normal size and cute enough. Her body was slim, her breasts and bottom attractive enough to most onlookers, though she was of the opinion that they were both far too small to be of any interest to anyone.

She was dressed as fashionably as people of a scientific bent can be expected, which is to say, at least one year behind the American curve - which put her about five years ahead of the fashion trends in Australian scientific circles.

The receptionist at Devonshire Analytical, Ltd.'s front desk said, "Oh yes, certainly. You can take a seat while I let Dr. Holstead know that you're here."

Eve sat, feeling very much out of place. Her employment at Devonshire Analytical as Assistant to the R & D Director was her first 'real' job since being awarded her doctorate in Biochemistry at the University of California at Los Angeles, in addition to this being her first time in Sydney, at the company's headquarters..

She watched the other employees entering, most of them looking much like the people she'd seen pass by every day on campus in California, with the only noticeable difference being fewer Asians and more Aboriginals. She mentally corrected herself. "'Indigenous Australians,' that's the preferred term," she thought to herself.

"Don't want to get off to a bad start," she thought. "I just want to fit in."

"Dr. Butler?" she heard a man's voice. She didn't respond at first.

"Dr. Butler?" the man repeated, now standing in front of her, peering down at her. She looked up, seeing a tall, well-built man of about fifty five, his shock of white hair making him seem older, smiling down at her.

"Oh!" Eve squeaked. "I'm not used to being called 'Doctor,'" she said, struggling to stand.

"Hello, Dr. Holstead," she said, extending her hand. Ignoring her hand, he hugged her instead, though chastely.

"Well, you won't get much more used to it around here - we use first names as much as possible," he said, grinning, and looking every bit like an older Australian Simon LeBon to the inexperienced graduate. "It's 'Andrew', always. And - with your permission - I should like to call you Eve, from now on."

Eve smiled back at him. His smile certainly was infectious. "Certainly sir, 'Eve' would be fine. And, 'Hello, Andrew Always' she said.

He laughed, and said, "Well, then, follow me - I'm afraid I must put you through the grinder of the Human Resources Department. They insist that you can't be a proper Devonshire employee unless you've been thoroughly chivvied first. No worries though, she'll be apples."

"Excuse me?" Eve said, thinking that she must have zoned out on part of the conversation.

"Hmm, I must purchase you an Australian-to-American dictionary tomorrow, I don't want anyone thinking you're a drongo." Eve stopped and stared at him.

"Doctor - Andrew, I could use that translation

now,

," she said.

"Sorry," he said. "I said - in our rather slangy way - that your experience with HR would turn out fine. And a drongo is, well, someone stupid. Ahh, here's the lift." He gallantly stood aside for her to enter, then followed her in.

After her experience being absorbed into the system through Human Resources - as horrifying in Australia as in the United States, it seems - Eve reported to the R & D Lab, where she was shown her cubicle and taken on a tour of the lab itself.

"Presently, we're working on a palliative for menstrual pain. A pharmaceutical firm in North Ryde - Nuvagon - has contracted with Devonshire to develop a formulation to ease menstrual distress. You'll be working with studies on lab rats, to start. This is rather a big contract, so we don't want any muck ups. Please see me if you have any questions, at any time, alright?" He smiled.

"Oh...Ben!" he called out. Eve looked behind her to see a slim, older man with receding black hair approaching.

"Eve, this is Ben. He's kind of an all-around 'jack of all trades' scientist here. You can use him in most any project, there isn't anything he hasn't seen here before - he probably knows more answers than I know questions," Andrew joked.

"Good to meet you, miss," Ben said politely, his voice soft, holding out his hand to the girl.

"And to meet you, too," Eve replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm and sure. Eve looked more closely at him. "Are you by any chance American? You don't seem to have an accent like everyone else here..."

"I think they'd say you're the one with the accent," Ben smiled. "And to answer your question - you're close, I'm Canadian. I lived in Vancouver almost all my life, up until a few years ago."

"Well, it's nice to meet another North American, anyway," she laughed. Ben agreed, then excused himself and left the lab somewhat hurriedly.

"I should have remembered you two would have a connection," Andrew said. "And Eve, I know you'll do a bang up job. Oh, and um, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" he said, looking puzzled.

"No..." she responded, feeling as puzzled as he looked.

"Is there something wrong with your shoulders? Or are you very much involved in physical training?" His face was turning bright red - it was clear he had suddenly reached the conclusion that he should have kept his mouth shut.

"My shoulders?" Eve said, still puzzled. She looked over at the shoulder of her dress...with its shoulder pad....a rather exaggerated shoulder pad. Then she looked at the other women in the area.

"Oh," she said, now turning red herself. "It's just the current fashion in the U.S.," she said.

"Oh," he said. "I'm terribly sorry to be so behind the fashions. My wife, Laura, used to tell me that my white shirts and thin ties went out of fashion in the sixties."

Eve would agree with that, but said nothing, and only smiled agreeably. He was her new boss, after all! That night when she got back to her new apartment - 'flat', as she would learn to call it - a few blocks away, she cut out the shoulder pads from every one of her outfits, and filled an entire trash bag with the foam disks.

Within a month, Eve was completely comfortable around the lab, though she was still struggling to adjust to some of the peculiar (to Eve, anyway) food and drink of Australia, especially the odd Vegemite that some of her associates ate on occasion.

She'd taken to having lunch with Eric Reynolds, a publicist for Devonshire. He was handsome, a year older than Eve, with a sparkling personality - perhaps something that all publicists are required to excel in. His blue eyes, and dark hair, even white teeth, and athletic build certainly didn't hurt in attracting her attention. Their lunchtime conversations quickly led to shared dinners at Diethnes Greek restaurant on Pitt Street in Sydney.

There, they discovered their shared affection for oysters, as well as for Diethnes' lamb casserole, followed by galaktoboureko, a home made Greek custard topped with filo and honey syrup. Later came their mutual fondness for being in each other's arms, lightly covered in cotton sheeting and served with passion.

Their first date at which breakfast choices became a significant issue, was their third date overall. As they stood in the doorway of Eve's living room, kissing gently, the touch of Eric's body on hers, firm and strong against her feminine softness, provoked her nipples to a noticeable response. A stiffness which might have embarrassed her at work, but served in the bedroom as a signal to Eric of her growing readiness for more and closer attention.

In turn, she sensed his increased, shallow breathing, his muscular grip more steady and firm, and the growing bulge in his pants, telling her of his equal readiness. His strong fingers caressed her back as they kissed.

She moaned, her face pointed upward, his six foot height dwarfing her five foot four. The fingers of one hand caressed Eve's long, curly brown hair, as her hand moved to his neck, his hair cut short, the nape of his neck smooth and bare. The strength he radiated as he held her, signaled his virility and overwhelming, and growing, passion.

"Eric...I don't..." she sighed, trying to fend off the inevitable. "Ohhh..."

"I know darling," he whispered back, as his hand softly caressed her full breast. He could feel her nipple, through the soft fabric of her bra, and blouse. She moaned softly, feeling her will evaporate under his practiced touch.

The two found themselves next to her small sofa, and lowering themselves there seemed the most natural thing in the world. Eve rationalized to herself that his touching her sensitive, and increasingly aroused, body parts through her clothing, was natural and not likely to lead to a situation she couldn't control.

That was followed by the excuse that his hand inside her blouse and on her bra, caressing her breasts more directly, wasn't excessive.

Next, she explained to herself that his hand directly on her soft, warm breasts, was still acceptable behavior.

Her thought process rapidly broke down when his thumb and forefinger lightly squeezed, then pinched, her dark pink nipples, and his tongue invaded her mouth. Her inhibitions melted away as he overwhelmed her defenses, and there was little surprise when the relatively inexperienced and sheltered academician found herself nearly naked in his hands.

"Ohh....Eric..." she sighed, when he managed his way inside her panties, his thumb deftly caressing her clit as his fingers stroked her rapidly wetting pussy. Her thighs seemed to fall open of their own accord, his stroking driving her to a plateau of delight she had never imagined.

"Darling Eve," he whispered, his words the lightest feather, tickling her ear. She looked up at his handsome face. She could see his passion echoing hers, and a look, too, perhaps of something more. Eve had little familiarity with love, her relationship with Tommy not long term (nor likely to be now, it seemed.) Her illnesses as a young girl, and then her studies as an adolescent and college student, had kept her from learning much about the ways of love.

The two found themselves in her small bed, naked, their bodies warm and reactive in contact with each other. "Ohh....Eric," she moaned, when his cock, steely hard, slipped inside her wet, and very tight, underused pussy. Her cum was most memorable, only the second she'd ever experienced from another person - Tommy being her first - though, as a healthy young woman of twenty four, she had experienced her share of self-induced orgasms.

"Was it good for you?" Eric asked, a slight smile on his face, feeling himself the cocksure marksman.

"Yes...oh, yes, thank you," Eve responded.

It looked to be the beginning of a beautiful affair.

* * * *

"Eve, look at this," Cynthia Murray, one of the R & D lab technicians, said, pointing toward one of the small cages on a long rack of similar cages. She absent-mindedly ran her fingers through her close cropped black hair. The two were standing together in the area of the research lab in which test animals were held.

"Do you notice anything, well, peculiar?" Cynthia nervously rubbed her right elbow, still sore from a recent tennis match.

Eve looked closely at the test rats.

"They seem to be exhibiting manic behavior," Eve said. "That's certainly not an expected result!"

"No!" Cynthia said. "I thought this stuff was supposed to calm 'em down..."

Eve frowned. "Our preliminary studies of this batch of the formula suggested that we'd see less response to stimulus - in other words, a lightly deadened nervous response to sharp stimuli. After all, we're trying to develop a pharmaceutical that deadens the discomfort of menstrual cramps. Instead, these rats are running about frenetically...aggressively, even. And look at how they enact mating behavior."

Cynthia giggled. "They're certainly having a go," she said. "What's making them act like that?"

"I don't know," Eve said. "Let's analyze the control formula for contamination. Perhaps something got into it."

"Yes ma'am," Cynthia replied, moving already to the locked refrigerator where initial batches of the formulation were kept. Her movements were lithe and sure. Taking out one of the unused vials of this particular batch, she began to put it through a series of tests to ascertain its purity. Eve immediately let Andrew know of the hitch in the development program.

It took Eve and Cynthia the better part of a week, but Eve finally had results to take to the Director. She'd told him of the setback, knowing it might delay the overall development timetable.

"Andrew, I think I found the contaminant - but I'm darned if I can figure out how it got there," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his look questioning.

"Well, I ran a whole series for chemical contaminants, and I could find nothing, using the gas chromatograph. Then I looked at some of the formula using the microscope, and spotted it right off. It's a protozoan - Toxoplasma."

"What on earth?" Andrew said, surprised. "What's a protozoan doing in a sterile formula?"

"I have no idea how it got in there," Eve said. "It's difficult to believe that it was contaminated accidentally. And there's no way they're multiplying in the formula. And I noticed something else..."

* * * *

"...we don't understand it. Where the contamination could have come from, why it acts on the rats as it does, the nature of the protozoan itself..." Eve shrugged. She smiled at Eric as they sat together on her sofa, relaxing after dinner.

"So, it makes them fuck?" Eric asked. "A lot?"

"Sort of," Eve answered. "It's almost like it makes them single minded in their pursuit of sex. What's the most important impulse, beyond eating and drinking in a rodent?"

"Umm, fucking?" Eric suggested.

"Exactly!" Eve exclaimed. "These rats just, um, go at it like mad. But there's another factor too - if you put a pad with cat urine on it in a cage full of normal rats or mice - any kind, including lab rats and mice - the rodents will shun the pad, hang out at the other end of the cage as far away from the cat-urine pad as possible..."

"Because the cat urine makes 'em think there's a cat there-" Eric ventured.

"Right again!" Eve exclaimed, hugging Eric. "And who says PR people are dumb?" His face was screwing up to voice an objection, when she continued.

"But with

these

rats, the ones that had been given the contaminated batch, they did the exact opposite. They made a beeline for a pad treated with cat urine, and nuzzled up to it. I suspect that, if they ran across a real cat, they'd do the same. Odds are, most cats would take the opportunity to turn rodents like that into dinner."

"And you think it's the infection that does it?" Eric looked doubtful. "It makes them suicidal?"

"No, I wouldn't call it suicidal, but somehow the infections cause changes in their brains that lead to the rodents acting in a manner that they ordinarily wouldn't - even when it possibly could lead to their ultimate destruction. It's just a theory, of course..."