I may like fantasy, but I also love science fiction, so I am exploring that genre with several stories. This is a futanari/hermaphrodite story because, in the world of science fiction, you can grow a dick on a woman. Because, y'know, science.
This happens in the same world as Sing Love the Electric Heart, or All in the Cure, but at a different time/city/land and is a standalone story. Readers are warned that this story contains dub/noncon.
o0o
Emilie winced in pain as she and her companions raced through the alleyways, trying to evade their pursuers. There'd been nearly a dozen of them in the beginning, gathered together for a potluck supper before they'd been alerted by a neighbor. Although the warning came only several minutes before the police burst into Lacey's flat, it'd given them enough time to clear the building.
Of course, they were not the first to run, and the police had experience in dealing with runners. Fortunately for her, she was more familiar with these back ways than the men and women who generally filled the ranks of the law enforcement that served this city.
Emilie had twisted her ankle stepping on some debris, and she moved along with somewhere between a sprint and limp, the other women tugging at her arms as they sought refuge.
They squeezed through several narrow alleys, barely wide enough to comfortably admit an average person, and when they finally came to a stop, they did their best to hold back their ragged breaths.
She felt Lacey and Shan squeeze her hands, and she nodded at them slowly as they huddled below the shadow of a walkway. Pressing themselves up against the wall, they covered their faces with their hands, closing their eyes as they tried to calm themselves. This would not be a refuge for too long, and they would need to find somewhere more permanent. All of them were burning with questions, but these would be discussed later.
Their ears remained cocked, and they heard various noises -- shouting, music, sirens, traffic. Emilie wiggled her injured ankle, testing it before she lowered her hands. Slowly, she pulled the hood more tightly over her head, feeling her hands shake as she processed the events of the last quarter of an hour.
It'd been nothing more than a friendly potluck, a way for neighbors or friends to pool time and resources to feed one another. They'd barely sat down and had a few bites before the neighbor banged on the door, panting and ruddy-cheeked, bleating out a warning.
These few bites of Shan's potato salad had been nowhere near enough to whet her hunger, and she felt her stomach rumble. Although an empty stomach was the least of her troubles. Lacey had just as good as lost her flat. Either someone had reported an 'unlawful gathering', or Lacey was to be arrested for some crime that Emilie was certain she had not committed.
Her hands balled into fists. How could the people of the Upper Echelon treat them like this? Not for the first time did she know the answer to that question. The Uppers had the power and wealth, and they intended to keep it that way. Various ways included keeping Lower Echelon job wages at a level that allowed for little more than subsistence if that. The legal system also favored the Uppers, and being one of the vaunted Uppers, or even a Middle, came with certain privileges, such as better education or access to medical care.
Naturally, there were dissenters, and those who tried to affect change through violence, but the Uppers maintained their advantage. It was all too easy when you were born with the odds decided in -- or against -- your favor. Those who were born in the Upper Echelon usually remained there throughout life. And one in the Lower Echelon might, just might, be able to work their way up to the Middle Echelon, but that was very rare.
And so the people of the Upper Echelon continued to live their life of power and privilege, on the back of the Middle and Lower Echelons.
"I think we can get up now. You good to go, Emilie?" Lacey whispered. She nodded as she slowly rose to her feet, testing the weight on her ankle. Yeah, it hurt, but if she had to run some more, she would. One did not let the police catch them, for once taken into custody, people rarely got out.
After listening carefully for several long moments for the presence of police officers or their vehicles, the women made their way down the alleyway, treading lightly. One good thing about the alleys and haphazard building plans in the tenements of the city was that they made it much more difficult for police to give chase in vehicles, whether by land or even by air.
"We can go to my aunt's building, it's a few blocks from here if we're where I think we are. I'm not as familiar with this neighborhood, but I'm certain we're not far." Shan murmured.
"Is it a safe place?" Lacey asked. Shan nodded. With the promise of refuge, even with her injured ankle, Emilie could swear her step felt lighter.
"Yes, I was right. Just two more blocks," Shan whispered, elation all too clear even in the quiet tone.
Suddenly, a bright light flooded her vision, and instinctively, she turned right to flee. There were shouts and the sound of weapons being fired. She fell forward, blinking several times as she tried to scramble to her feet before everything went dark.
There were flashes of consciousness that she would not piece together until later. There were voices, and a hand on her forehead.
"I will take custody of this one." she heard someone say.
"As you wish, Dr. Tymbry. What of the others?"
"Keep them downstairs for now. They could be useful in the future."
Even in her drug-induced haze, she felt her stomach twist in terror. Managing to open her eyes a bit, she saw a man lean over her, his head blocking much of the overhead light as he peered down at her. She tried to say something, to scream. Though his visage was fuzzy due to her disorientation, she was able to make out the smile that twisted onto his pale features.
o0o
Emilie twisted her arms against the restraints, even though common sense told her that her struggles would be ineffective. With a groan, she slammed her head back onto her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Where the hell was she? Not a standard hospital space, that was for sure. She saw a dark linoleum floor and smooth gray walls. One wall was lined with bookshelves bearing books and folders as well as several boxes and neatly-stacked cases of electronics. An armchair sat in the corner. The room was windowless.
She'd heard the stories, of course. Human trafficking, along with illegal experimentation. All too often, the two went hand in hand. What was to become of her? She felt panic welling in her chest but managed to fight back a scream. There were footsteps.
She looked down at her wrist cuffs again, and the IV line that fed some unknown substance into her bloodstream. She didn't want to imagine the horrors that awaited her.
"Good evening," she heard a somewhat familiar voice say as a shadow moved across the wall, and the owner of the voice came within her line of sight almost right at the end of that sentence. She looked up into the face of Ernst Tymbry for a moment before looking away. Nonetheless, the visage of his aquiline nose and angled jaw fringed by a dark beard remained in her memory.
"I trust you are comfortable?" he asked gently, steepling his fingers against his stomach. He was attired in a nice shirt and pants, with a white doctor's coat over it. She wondered what he had in mind for her. How many other girls did he do this to? How many people had suffered at his hands? That son of a bitch!
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, sharply skipping the preamble. He approached her, and she felt his hand brush against her forehead and temple. Jerking her head away, she glared up at him angrily.
