Ingen Corporation

Linda Cummings did not understand why InGen Corporation had insisted on such a plethora of physical and psychological tests for an applicant for a sales position. However, she did know that she was desperate and the company's success undeniable. When asked to provide blood and DNA samples she offered no resistance. She was now waiting, nervously, for the follow-up call she had been promised. She was thirty-eight, far too experienced to be staring at the phone like a nervous teenager, but still, she was staring at the phone like a nervous teenager.

When it rang Linda took a deep breath and in a strong confident tone said, "Linda Cummings."

The voice on the other end was friendly and engaging, "Hello Linda, its Julie Deutsch. Great news! Everybody was very impressed by you and you blew away the testing, although I told them you'd test off the charts. Can you make it in for an interview?"

Linda smiled, mostly in joy, some in relief, and trying to sound calm said, "Of course, what day would be good for you?"

"First thing Monday morning if you're available."

Linda rejoiced. If they were bringing her in first it meant she was the prime candidate. She glanced at the blue suit she had bought for the interview. It would fit her better than her other suits - she had moved up another size - and although it had maxed out her credit card at the moment it seemed a wise investment.

"I am."

"Would 8:30 A.M. be too early?"

"No."

"Good, I'll see you then."

Linda hung up the phone and danced around the room; joyous music playing in her head. It had been eighteen months since InGen, a drug and bio-pharmaceutical company, had acquired Gomar Products, a small industrial cleaning products company in Raleigh, North Carolina. On its face the acquisition made little sense; the rumor was that InGen was interested in Gomar's research on microbes used to clean hazardous waste spills. The new division, however, had done surprisingly well, quickly expanding from 2% to 18% of the state-wide market. It made a point of hiring an older, more experienced, sales force. Before taking the job at InGen, Julie, for example, had been Director of Sales at one of Gomar's competitors.

Linda knew she needed a fresh start. Her sales had been declining for years. Although she preferred blaming her employer, Mendoz Bros., and the industry for its obsession with youth - the newest trend in sales was to hire cheerleaders straight out of college - she knew she carried more than her share of the blame. She had never really recovered from her divorce three years earlier. Her husband had fallen in love with a high school intern working at his office. After they married he and his bride had headed for the West Coast. All reports were he was doing better than ever.

While Linda had retained custody of their son she also started cruising the bar scene, picking up hard-bodied twenty-somethings. One night, after too much to drink, she crashed into a parked police car. While her lawyer was able to get her probation, she had lost custody of her boy. She also did not learn her lesson. And although she still hit the bar scene, hard-bodied twenty-somethings were becoming increasingly difficult to find as her lifestyle took a toll on her body. Reports from California were also not good; during his junior year her son had been suspended from school for two weeks for threatening a teacher; any additional misconduct would result in expulsion.

She stopped dancing, already huffing and puffing, trying to catch her breath. She looked in the mirror. She had put on twenty pounds. Her face was flabby, she sagged where she shouldn't, and her once bright blond hair, green eyes, and pink skin no longer glowed. She knew her performance at the office was suffering; her presentations were often sloppy and she dragged through many a morning nursing a hangover. InGen was a chance to turn her life around; the phone call from Julie a harbinger of good fortune.

* * * *

Julie greeted Linda with enthusiasm and a quick kiss on the cheek just as InGen's striking black receptionist was handing Linda a cup of coffee. Julie was wearing a top-of-the-line woman's suit with a brown leather dress and expensive leather boots; her hair, make-up, and nails were meticulous. Linda was immediately struck by how good Julie looked. The two had not been friends, but worked in the same industry, had often met, and knew each other. Julie had always been a beautiful woman, but was about five years older than Linda. At the moment she looked ten, maybe fifteen, years younger. It was not only that Julie was in terrific shape, there appeared not to be an ounce of fat on her slim, five foot ten inch body, but she moved with the power and strength of a twenty-year old. Her lightly freckled skin and red hair were luminescent. Linda followed Julie to her office where they sat on two cherry chairs that blended perfectly with the feminine surroundings. The discussion quickly turned to InGen's generous package of salary, commissions, and benefits. Linda soon realized if she wanted the job, it was hers.

After about forty-five minutes Julie shifted her position, her body language signaling that they were about to move to a more difficult part of their conversation.

"Now we get to the, let us say, politically incorrect part of the interview. I could give you some mumbo-jumbo about wellness programs and health care costs, but you and I both know, despite all the industry protests to the contrary, that much of what we do is based on appearance. I had the same bunch of nubile just-out-of-college-girls prowling around my former employer as you do at Mendoz. The employees here are expected to stay in shape and the company provides state-of-the-art facilities for us to do so. It's done wonders for me; I haven't felt this good for years."

Linda, who had wondered if she should mention the change, said, "I've noticed, you look amazing."

Julie leaned forward, her hazel eyes twinkling, and placed a hand on Linda's knee, "Thank you dear," and then continued, "We expect you to commit to the company's wellness program. Your first two weeks here will be devoted to that and classroom work about our products and sales techniques. If that goes well you will make several sales calls during the following fortnight. If these go as expected, you will be hired full time. Until then you are on probation, but will draw a full salary and commissions." Then, lightening the atmosphere, Julie related her "favorite benefit," an expense account at certain high end woman's stores credited against future commissions. Linda fully sympathized with Julie's next comment, "After all, we gotta look great."

Julie checked her iPad. "You indicated you have six weeks of vacation accrued with Mendoz. Let them know you'll be taking two weeks off. If after the first two weeks here things don't work out you can return to them, no questions asked."

Linda knew the proposal was unethical, but she was desperate and Julie confident and convincing. She nodded her agreement.

Julie fished a metal cannister out of her desk safe. "Excellent, now its time to hit the gym. There are some clothes in my dressing room," indicating a door in the back of the office, "which should fit you. But first," handing Linda the cannister, "this is a nutritional supplement another division of the company has been working on. It's part of the four week probation period. You'll use it six days a week; on the seventh day there is a complementary supplement. We'll take occasional blood samples to see how it's working."

For the first time doubt crossed Linda's mind. Was she being used as a guinea pig? Julie, who had prepared for this moment, noticed Linda's concern. "Of course, if you don't want to, it' s fine, but," turning to face Linda and spreading her arms to display her own stunning form, "its done wonders for me."

Linda had to admit it had. She also didn't want to rock the boat on her first day at work. "No, it's fine, I just wasn't anticipating everything moving this fast."

Julie understood. "Yes, I guess it has. I hope I haven't rushed things. Although you always worked for a competitor I've long admired your work. I've been pushing InGen to hire you and when you tested so well, well, I couldn't wait to get you on-board."

Linda, like the rest of us, loved a compliment. Things really did seem to be turning around for her. "Thank you. I'm happy to be here." She opened the cannister, sniffed the drink, and tasted it. It was surprisingly good. She finished it and followed Julie into the dressing room.

As they changed, Linda took the opportunity to compare her body, with stretch marks on her legs, a droopy stomach, and even droopier breasts, to glimpses she caught of Julie. Julie was stunning. Her body was firm and her C breasts sat high on her chest. She also moved fluidly and without the stiffness of approaching middle age. Over the next two hours in an intense series of work-outs led by a personal trainer, Linda was even more impressed by Julie's fitness, strength and, flexibility. No one would have guessed that Julie was the older of the two. When done the two women headed for the steam room. Here Linda studied her new friend's hair, which glowed, and skin, which was radiant and almost wrinkle-free. If this was botox, Linda decided she needed some.

After a shower Julie introduced Linda to the sales trainers. While Linda was weighed down with enough technical information about InGen's products to keep her busy for weeks, a technician took a blood sample. Julie invited Linda to join her for a yoga class after work.

As she started working through the material Linda was struck by how good she felt. She had just undertaken her most vigorous work-out in years and she felt great; she could find no evidence of soreness. She looked forward to yoga that night; she couldn't recall the last time she had attended a class.

* * * *

L'Ting Hung studied the results of the blood test; the reaction to the supplement was just what he hoped; it confirmed the physical and psychological testing. Linda was the perfect subject. He hurried to his superior, Dr. Wesley Dowler.

"Look, look, it's just like we predicted."

Dowler briefly studied the screen; Hung was correct. Otherwise Dowler did not react. Hung could not sit still for long.

"Shouldn't we tell the boss."

Dowler's inflection did not change. "That's what Johnson did."

Dr. Don Johnson had, after the first day, decided a candidate was perfect and went running to the boss to report. It turned out Johnson was wrong. He had not been fired, Johnson was a bright guy; the boss did not waste assets. He had been reassigned; he was now working on industrial degreasers. Hung got the message; he returned to his work.

* * * *

By the end of her first week at InGen Linda could not recall when she had last felt this good. She was spending two-plus hours a day with a personal trainer at the office, doing yoga with Julie at the end of the day, taking vigorous walks at night, and stopping by her neighborhood gym in the morning. She was also living in a constant state of sexual arousal. And although guys were flocking to her, including some of the hunky young guys who were blowing her off a few weeks before, it was surprisingly easy to say no. She felt a strong loyalty to InGen and Julie; they had been willing to take a chance on her, she would not let them down by returning to her party-girl lifestyle.

On Saturday Linda met Julie and a trainer at InGen for a work-out. After drinking the special "once-a-week" supplement - unlike the others it was bitter and distasteful - Linda got on the scale for the first time; Julie had told her to work the program and avoid daily weigh-ins. Linda was stunned; she had lost ten pounds.

That night, still disbelieving the result, Linda got on her home scale. She had indeed lost the weight. Although at first elated, concern gradually crept into her mind. She shouldn't be losing weight that fast. While she had, at Julie's urging, been eating healthy, a transition which turned out to be surprisingly easy, she was not calorie-counting or dieting. She studied herself in the mirror. The puffiness in her face was gone. Her body was developing a lean muscled look. She had never muscled up this fast before. She looked at her ass, which had noticeably tightened. She examined her breasts. Boob size had never an issue, she had nice C's, but they looked bigger. She squeezed them; they were firmer. The sparks that went off inside her snatch confirmed that they were incredibly sensitive. Were they riding higher on her chest?

She had exploited the company's clothes policy and bought several new outfits, including some bras the saleslady had suggested. Linda got out one of her old bras. She could get it on, but it was tight. Her breasts were larger, not a lot larger, but larger. Linda leaned towards the mirror. Her skin was smooth and translucent; some of the wrinkles around her eyes had retreated. She put a finger tip on her cheek and pressed; the skin rebounded with a vigor she had not seen in ten years. She looked at her fingernails. They had grown. Nails had always been a problem for her. She ran them across her face. She could not recall them being this strong. She decided to ask Julie about the changes on Monday.

Linda crawled into bed. She dragged her fingers across her breasts. Her body rapidly responded to the sensual feel of her hands on her skin. For the past week she'd been as horny as she could remember; her nightly masturbation had become a ritual. She played with her breasts, ran her hands across her body and thighs, and dipped three strong fingers into her pussy. She marveled at how responsive her body had become. Clean living was paying off; she was having the most powerful orgasms in memory and was, for the first time in her life, multi-orgasmic. She fingered her clit and cunt to a series of blindingly hot orgasms before falling into a deep happy sleep.

* * * *

When Linda arrived on Monday she was directed to Julie's office. Julie seemed to understand Linda's concerns before she voiced them. As they drank the herbal tea Julie had prepared, Julie effortlessly moved the conversation from gossip about the weekend to how good Linda looked.

"It actually makes me feel better to see how well you've adapted to the training and nutrition," Julie said.

"Why's that?"

"Well, different people react differently. I took to it immediately. In fact, it scared me a bit; it seemed too good to be true. I haven't seen anyone respond as positively to it as I did until you came along. Seeing how well you're doing makes me feel a little bit more, well, normal. "

"I'm glad to hear that," Linda replied. "That's what I was thinking, it's too good to be true."

"Well babe," Julie responded, a hint of mirth in her voice, "it looks real to me."

Linda was reassured. That her reaction to the regimen was similar to Julie's pleased her; Linda had felt an instant bond with the beautiful red head. It was like they had known each other for years. When Julie invited her to put on her gym clothes in her office's changing room, Linda accepted. As she donned a tight purple leotard she recalled how, the week before, Julie, had not moved with the stiffness and limitations of a forty-plus year old woman. Linda noticed she no longer did so.

* * * *

That week was one of routine. Linda spent long hours in the gym and long hours in the classroom. She readily retained the information being force fed her; her memory hadn't been this facile in years. When she got home Friday night she mounted the scale; she'd lost another nine pounds. At this rate she'd reach her college weight by the middle of the next week. In fact, her body already seemed to be there. Her weight, she thought, was probably skewed by her increased musculature. She found a pair of jeans from her senior year in college; they fit perfectly. She studied herself in the mirror. Had she ever looked this good? There were even emerging six pack abs, something she had only dreamed of before.

She dragged a finger down her face. Her skin was smooth and tight. It also seemed thicker, more robust. When she ran her thumb across the fingertip she found her skin was moist with oil. She checked her face again; her skin had a healthy glow. While not so wrinkle free to pass for a college freshman no one would question her if she claimed to be in her mid-twenties. She ran her hands through her hair; it was soft and thick and the blonde color seemed almost luminous. In the past two weeks her nails had grown completely out and the brittleness of the past few years was gone. She held them in front of her face. They were smooth and glowed a healthy pink. She stepped back to look at her body. The stretch marks on her legs had faded. Even her eyesight seemed stronger.

Linda was concerned and elated. While she loved the changes, they were not normal. She trusted her employer although, she realized, she didn't really know who it was, and she loved Julie. Still, something was going on. No one with a product like the one she'd been taking would be selling industrial solvents; there was an infinite amount of money to be made by selling the fountain of youth.

She dressed, pulling on a yoga top and bottom. Although he couldn't explain why, as of late she had the urge, as if to celebrate her new found body, to dress sexy even when alone. She went to her computer; there was a message from her ex-husband. Two weeks into the summer her son had broken into and vandalized his high school. A hearing to consider his expulsion was set for the next week. It did not look promising. The entire incident had been recorded on the school's video cameras. Her ex suggested shipping Jack back east to her if he was expelled. A change of location might help. Linda turned off the computer; she needed to think about it. She crawled into bed to masturbate and sleep.

* * * *

In the lab Dr. Dowler reviewed two weeks of test. They complied with the computer's projections. It was time to approach the boss, if approach was the right word. Dowler reported remotely. While cameras were trained on him, the boss was only a voice box. Dowler understood why the boss preferred anonymity, what they were doing was illegal.

Dowler did not know that Illegality was not the only reason he never saw the boss. His bodyless voice had been electronically altered to induce fear, if not terror, in his employees. The boss believed fear had a way of focusing one's attention. And, of course, if they saw him no one would be afraid. He lived in a wheel chair, he was old, he was dying. No one would be frightened by his broken form.

While Dowler gave his upbeat report he was surprised by the boss' lack of emotion. They had spent millions of dollars in original research, millions more stealing others' research, broken innumerable laws, and destroyed the physical and mental well-being of many an unknowing experimental subject. Why wasn't the boss more excited? Dowler did not know that the boss had numerous back channels to keep abreast of what was going on. He was not hearing anything he didn't know.

* * * *

On Monday morning Julie fixed the boss breakfast. She had slept soundly, having ridden his sizable cock to several intense orgasms the night before. It was a marvel that, in spite of all his health problems, that thing still worked. After he inspected the food she was dismissed. He liked to eat alone. He checked the latest reports on the computer screen fixed to his wheel chair; he was running out of time.

He had initiated the project when arthritis froze his joints, turning his body into an instrument of moment-by-moment torture. At first he funded a few crack-pots, almost on a lark, wondering whether pomegranate seeds or St. John's Wort could cure him. The boss was about to give up when he learned of Wesley Dowler's recovery of a cache of DNA from the clothing of the harem of a nineteenth century Turkish sultan. Dowler had identified genetic patterns in the DNA absent from the general population. The boss, employing his persuasive personality and money, convinced Dowler to leave academia and join an obscure division of InGen based in Switzerland. There Dowler confirmed that the women of the harem had been carefully in-bred for generations to be beautiful, stay young, and live in a constant state of sexual need. In a society which could dictate with whom humans could reproduce, a sexy woman, after many generations of directed breeding, could become so much more.