Notes: This is erotic fiction. If it is illegal or immoral for you to read, skip it. All events and people are fictitious. Don't try this at home. You may repost this story, in its entirely, at any completely free site.
Patricia Barton, PhD and many other initials strung behind her name, was sitting at her computer thinking- something she did very well. The animal tests had gone phenomenally- she had literally turned a white rat into a guinea pig, right down to DNA and behaviors, in only a few hours.
The drugs, the nano-particles, the DNA cocktail, the carefully designed radioactive and bioreactive atmosphere, the feedback system, and the tedious computer programming have finally come together to create her dream- the ability to control the body and mind on the most fundamental level. She had read adult stories about wild computer programs, alien-given powers, and similar tales of humans granted god-like powers over others and it just fed her dream... her fetish... her obsession.
Patricia was in her sixties now. Her hair was grey and thin, her skin was blotchy and wrinkling, her joints were painful... She was hideous in her own eyes. Her husband during all of this, Earnie, was her rock. He was dumpy, never quite as quick mentally as she was, and no prize by any real definition, but he loved her and she loved him.
She looked at the machinery again. The interface chamber looked like a cheap bathtub filled with fine white sand, surrounded by tubes, wires, lights, and squat cabinets jammed with purring machines. She looked at the dozens of tubes of the 'DNA cocktail' she had been growing for the last couple of months from their cells. She looked at the pitifully small container of nanoparticles and the scant amounts of other key ingredients. She had so little, but the stuff she needed was so rare or expensive that this was all she could afford- barely enough material for three tries. She had to get it all right.
Ernie snored on the gurney he was strapped to for his own safety. The light sleeping pill should be out of his system by now, and his other meds had been replaced with look-a-likes filled with what she needed him to take for some time now.
Poor Ernie. He had no idea what was coming. She had not shared any of it with him to protect him from the risks and worry. If this did not work it would devastate her, but she needed him to go first so he could run the controls for her. Besides, for her plans to work, both of them needed to be processed. She hoped he would understand.
One last sweep of the controls- more to delay what she needed to do than anything, and she went over to the gurney and slid him onto the sand in the tub. She injected him with each of the several pre-loaded syringes lined up on a nearby tray. She fit the dozens of probes to his body, struggling to turn him to fit them on his back.
As she moved him, she occasionally stepped on a foot control that forced air up through the fine, not-really-sand material. As it fluidized, she was able to reposition him easily, and when it stopped, it molded to him perfectly with no skin pressure.
OK, drugs and electrodes ready, she fit some breathing tubes and an IV in place, activated the tank again, and gently pushed him down into the bubbling quasi-sand. Monitors and sensors arrayed around the tank showed everything was starting off smoothly and she sat back down in the control seat for the long wait. Although she was not religious, she found herself muttering a prayer for success.
She had set herself several alarms to go off so she would be sure to check key moments in the operation, and the first one jarred her out of a fitful nap. It was an hour into the process and time to make sure that every element was working correctly. Each sensor was reporting, the IV was flowing as expected, and the many small machines were purring along properly. She looked at the thermal imaging and everything looked right.
Several of his readings were off- but off in exactly the way they should be. He was running hot, chemical and enzyme levels were all over the place, brainwaves looked horrible- but right on the predicted marks. She let out a deep breath- he was alive and everything was working as it ought. She muttered her thanks to whatever gods were listening, grabbed some snack bars, and went back to her seat.
The next time she woke up, the white sands were beige. The process generated wastes and the sand would absorb it all, so this was as expected. She switched out the IV bag, added the proper drug cocktail for the next phase, and quadruple-checked the program that was about to run in his mind for the next few phases. One of the antennas used to communicate with the nanoparticles was showing a deviation, making for a few anxious moments as she corrected the settings.
'God,' she thought, 'this would all have been so much easier if she had a techie or aid to help out'- but there was no one else who even knew about this project. She had carefully done it all in a rented storage unit she paid for in cash through the mail. Every purchase was done so it would be almost impossible to track, and the stuff she 'borrowed' from the lab she ran would not be missed for quite some time. She was in this all by herself. On the other hand, she had planned for this day for decades.
Her thoughts drifted back over the years- her frustration over her lack of looks or grace; her other, dumber, siblings marrying and having kids as she buried herself in research that was more and more esoteric. She recalled her discovery of a company that called itself, in private, Secret Sexlabs Inc. and the wealth of information they had accumulated. She briefly wondered if they had yet found that she had tapped their databases, and smiled as she thought about whom the rather unsavory group could report it to if they had. With all of the false data and dead ends she left in their computers, it might be years before they get back on track.
The nights mapping her and Ernie's DNA and teasing out secrets no one else had put their fingers on yet, the hours spent calculating exactly what she wanted and how to get there, the long weeks of barely seeing Ernie or a bed, the missed vacations and weekends together- she had paid so much, and Ernie was so supportive. His own job at the plant was nothing special, but he liked it. He still managed to do most of the cooking and cleaning around the house. He joked about being a good wife for her, and it hurt her every time he said it. She even felt bad about the hours he spent under hypnosis telling her his deepest secrets and fantasies, and the tweaking she felt she had to do in a few places.
But, now, finally, it was coming to a close. The fire-proof lockbox on the counter held new identities for both of them. In just a couple more days they were going to start a brand-new life, all thanks to her lifelong obsession, incredible mind, and this wonderful machine.
