My Anal Awakening

I grew up in all kinds of small towns up and down the east coast. Sometimes close enough to the ocean that I could smell it, and sometimes so far up in the hills the notion of so much water seemed ludicrous. My parents moved around so much I pretty much stopped making friends. I mean, what was the point if I wasn't even going to finish the school year in the same school district? So when I tell you that during my freshman year (in some long forgotten, out of the way college) I was somewhat of a loner, I want you to grasp my full meaning.

Oh! Excuse me, where are my manners? My name is Michael, though some people call me Mike, and I am now a bespoke gene hacker. I learned my trade at an east coast college of some repute, though not quite of ivy league calibre. My parents had quite a bit of money saved up so they rented me a room near campus. Every morning I walked, alone, to campus and directly to whatever lecture hall I was supposed to be in that day. I'd do nothing but attend lectures all day and then, without having said a word to anyone I'd walk back to my apartment. That first month of college the only person I spoke to was the cashier of the local seven-eleven.

This all had to change at the start of the second semester. As a stereotypical nerd I had the entire six-year curriculum read and memorized. The first semester had been all about teaching the theory: Mathematics, Biology, Chemistry, Gene-mapping. I was good at that. During the second semester the focus would shift to more practical research and development, starting with a collaborative lab in gene splicing. I had to find a lab-partner.

Of course by now several of my classmates had struck up conversations with me and discovered that I was neither shy or anxious among them. They now understood my lack of friends wasn't due to any psychological or social dysfunction, but simply a lack of need or interest for social interaction. I had been alone for most of my life and I grew up fine; I could still hold a conversation, especially if the topic was of interest to me, and at most my small talk felt under utilised. They had accepted me for the silent nerd that I was.

It was a Monday morning, the rain was pouring down but that hadn't stopped me from my 30 minute walk to campus. For the first time in weeks, though, I hadn't gone straight to the lecture hall. Instead I found myself in the grand hall of the primary building, the only building on campus that was open to the public and which housed most of the offices and a couple of convenience stores. Right next to the entrance was Jack's, a decently sized diner that opened before the crack of dawn and allowed sleepless professors and students their early morning coffee and breakfast. Uncharacteristically I stepped across the threshold and made my way to the counter where I ordered a strong coffee and some light breakfast. I sat down with my breakfast across from a classmate and my only reason for coming here. This is how I met Deborah.

Unlike me, Deborah's lived her entire childhood in a remote village in the middle of nowhere of the bible-belt. With a maximum of some two-hundred ultra-religious residents, Deborah had no other girls of her age to grow up with, only three boys. She was expected to spend her entire life with one of them, but as kids they were more interested in bullying and by the time they became interested in girls all they wanted was to paw at her boobs. Though the circumstance were different, she grew up as isolated and alone as I had. But where I spend my time studying, reading, becoming a standard nerd and valuing the correct statement of facts over pleasantries, she began to rebel. It started with ordering and listening to hard rock off of the media-web. Music she knew would have the disapproval of her holier-than-thou parents.

When she turned sixteen she managed to sweet talk one of the villagers to teach her to drive and soon she had a driver's license and a cheap wreck of car that was held together only by it's own dirt. This piece of shit machinery broke down every other week and she had to maintain it by herself, but she nevertheless drove it to the next decently sized city every day. Over time these trips gave her the freedom to explore a world much larger than she had supposed. A world full of art and science and all things her parents denounced as evil. Instead of reading the bible, she began bringing home books of science from the library. Particularly books that disproved biblical thought such as important texts on biology, genetics and evolutionary science. Her love of hard music became more pronounced and soon she had embraced her first Metal bands. The tattoo's and piercings came soon after. The extremely orthodox community she came from began to shun and decry her behaviour. They proclaimed her a witch. Desperate to gain her independence she used the resources of the library to apply for a feminist scholarship.

Before I sat down I counted three different facial piercings and at least five different tattoo's. She was wearing heavy black lipstick and her clothes screamed at people to keep their distance with spikes and chains attacked to thick black leather and a form fitting lady-T with the undecipherable logo of the latest extreme metal band in her playlist. In front of her stood a cup of black tea and a half-eaten bagel next to a thick old-fashioned leather bound text book with gold-leaf lettering; "On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life". Her head bobbed to music I couldn't hear, probably beamed straight into her aural implants. I gestured for her attention.

"What?" she demanded as she tapped the interface on the back of her hand.

"Deborah Miles, right?"

"Only bitches like my mother call me Deborah," she sneered the words, "Are you a bitch?"

"Uhm.... No?" I was thoroughly confused, I wasn't used to this kind of talk. Silence descended between us. "What do I..." I began but she interrupted.

"Debbie. Everybody calls me Debbie." she rolled her eyes.

More silence...

"What do you want?"

"Oh right!" I began to blurt out my spiel, "Next semester we have to work in groups of two during gene splicing labs and since you and I have the best grades of our class I thought it would be advantageous for both our academic careers to partner up."

She stared at me intently for a few seconds and I couldn't help but feel a little bit intimidated by her intensity. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly.

I thought about it, but could not find fault in any part of my inquiry, "Yes, I always try to be accurate."

"Ok." she tapped something into the back of her hand then held it out to me, "here's my contact info. Let's do this." I responded by tapping the back of my hand against hers to exchange the data, then silently stood up and walked off to the lecture halls.

Yeah, I know. We made for an odd and unlikely couple. And truth be told it's not like we immediately hit off. In fact, even though we officially worked together, the first few weeks of Gene Splicing Lab we mostly did everything separate. After three weeks the professor gave us a reprimand for not co-operating as the curriculum intended. After some hemming and hawing and another two weeks of doing double work we finally began to delegate and trust each other to deliver fine work.

One fateful Wednesday afternoon, a handful of weeks into the semester and after we began to feel comfortable with our partnership, Debbie approached me as I was packing my bags to go home. It was late and I was hungry for some food. "Mike," she began carefully, "how's your maths? Are you any good at it?"

I hesitated in confusion, "Sure, we both had top marks last semester." I proffered.

"Yes," she allowed, "but I had to study 24/7 for it. It wasn't easy and..." she trailed off into silence. I waited for her to continue. "It's different this semester, it's as if there's a huge gap in my knowledge that I have to somehow infer from the professors comments and I have to fill it in on my own without any text to fall back on. I'm falling behind while trying to play catch up, and to make this worse..," she sighed resignedly, "I don't understand any of the material for next week's test."

I stood in silence, not knowing what to think.

"Can you tutor me? I think my hick-town education left me ill-prepared. I'll pay for food."

I must admit that I can't really recall how the events occurred after that conversation, nor what any details of the next week of evening tutoring. I do recall eating a lot better than I normally did; Asian Streetfood, Italian pasta's, Southern Gumbo. I remember drinking alcohol. Loads of alcohol, from sake to Irish Whiskey, and from Belgian Abbey Beers to Alpine wines. We spoke of Mathematics, but also family and our futures. We spoke of our dreams and of genetic research. I vividly remember the three seconds when she leaned over my shoulder to tap her finger at... whatever... and I could feel her chest press into my back and her head next to mine.

But most of all I remember how we bonded in that week. Not just over our studies and our scholarly passion for genetics and evolution theory. And how, after one week of studying at my kitchen table, she aced that Mathematics test. I remember the smile on her face when I opened the door and she screamed in excitement as she proudly displayed her grades. I particularly remember the softness of her lips as she kissed me in thanks, and how that kiss grew more passionate.

But this story is not about how I lost my virginity, or even the fun we had as we grew closer and closer over the coming years. Suffice it to say that we became partners in more than one sense of the word. We did all our studying together, she moved into my apartment, we reached our Masters degree together and began work on our PhD's together. And that is where we pick things up again.

At that time, people had done 'mechanical' body sculpting for over a century. Cosmetic surgery it was called, and people had take in to some extremes. I studied one case where a man had surgically had his tongue split, his eyes (and face) tattooed, his nose broken and re-sculpted, and had surgical steel pyramids bonded to his skull underneath his skin. All this to make him look like a lizard.

Genetic body sculpting, as is popular today, was at it's absolute infancy. Only a handful of people had undergone genetic treatments and mostly it was to repair genetic diseases like Cystic Fibrosis and Huntington's. There were a few whispers going round of using genetic editing techniques to reactivate dormant genes and reinforce vestigial traits. People supposedly grew tails and elongated elfin ears.

All research is at least to some degree indebted to the research that has been done before. The puzzle we try to solve is complicated and multi-dimensional and it usually takes many small breakthroughs before it is truly solved, if it ever is. I'll try not to bore you with the details, and which puzzle pieces already existed vs which we developed ourselves. In the end, our research was the culmination of decades of study. Debbie studied the genetic basis for primary and secondary gender-structures and, specifically, how to activate them without messy hormone therapy or unbalancing the subjects hormonal scale. And I was working on a serum for what is basically a growth-accelerant. With such a serum new biological structures could be grown in a fraction of the time, allowing, for example, the regeneration of limbs in certain reptiles in minutes instead of days. It was only when we realised that our two separate puzzles were in fact two pieces in a far grander puzzle that we knew we were going to revolutionise genetic engineering. This was the birth of GBD, Genetic Body Sculpting, that is so popular and prevalent now.

We did not rush things. We knew that while we might be able to defend our thesis and gain our PhD's with our research and animal testing only, we would never be sure unless we tested it out on a human. And in the time-honoured tradition of scientists across the world, Debbie volunteered to test it on herself. We spent months perfecting our techniques of serum synthesis, mapping her genome, computer simulations and endless calculations. When we were finally ready, it was a cold January Friday.

We had been sharing the apartment for a few years by then, and we decided that the experiment would take place in our home. The bedroom was covered in surgical plastics and three colour-coded syringes lay on a metal tray next to our bed. I had set up several camera's to record the experiment. She stepped into the room wearing nothing but a surgical robe.

"Ready?" her voice was thin and reedy, more nervous than scared.

"Are you?" I countered, "Can we ever be truly ready?"

She stood silent for a few seconds. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be." She stepped closer and kissed me. "For luck." She plopped down on the bed, lay down and pulled the gown up to her stomach. "I shaved, you know, just in case." I smiled at her. "Do you like it?" she asked coyly.

"What's not to like?" With a single tap on the back of my hand I turned on all the recording equipment in the room. I began the medical dictation with time and date and carefully sat down on the stool opposite of Debbie. "Subject is a 29 year old female, 172 cm tall weighing in at 71 kg. No known genetic defects or current ailments." I rambled on clinically and began measuring and calling out all aspects of her vulva. Data you don't need to hear and honestly, I can't remember.

The important thing is that I took the syringe which held Debbie's primary serum, that would allow her body to grow male genitalia, and that I carefully injected her on five specifically targeted spots surrounding her labia. I prattled on clinically, and followed it with another three injections of my serum, to activate and speed growth along. We covered her up again and over the course of 10 to 15 minutes we talked softly as we watched and recorded how her pretty little slit fused shut and she grew a new set of cock and balls in it's place.

We stopped recording any growth at a respectable sub-average of five inches at rest. I handed her a bedpan to test her ability to urinate and we found no defects in the stream before storing her urine for chemical analysis later on. We had huge smiles on our faces. It was mesmerizing. It was a miracle. It was the first time anyone had managed anything like this. She looked me in the eye.

"There's one more thing we need to test." She licked her lips as she spoke in her seductive voice. She kicked the medical equipment away and crawled further up our bed. The surgical gown went flying as she let herself sink into the cushions. Comfortable, she began caressing her breasts and nipples and the new skin between her legs. I watched as her anticipation and lust grew. I watched as her new appendage grew an extra half inch, and rock hard. She grabbed hold of herself and proceeded to tug on it clumsily and inexpertly.

I took my clothes off, "Let me show you how it's done, my dear", I told her and took up position next to her in bed. I gave instructions as we lay there pleasuring ourselves. I made her fondle her balls, and slide her wet fingers over all the hotspots on her penis. I watched her explore erogenous zones she never knew existed, revelling in the erotic moans escaping from her lips.

She stopped suddenly. Our eyes locked and I saw nothing but primal lust burning in her eyes. "I want to feel you." she smiled seductively and swung her leg over me to straddle my chest. She slid her girly cock back and forth over my chest. "This feels so strange, so amazing," she moaned aloud and pleaded, "please... please more". And I knew exactly what she wanted. In fact, I had anticipated that this was where the experiment would eventually lead and had debated myself how far I would take things. Before her pleading could escalate into full begging I grabbed her firmly by the ass and pulled her in.

She moaned in delighted surprise as I extended my tongue and softly licked her tip. Our eyes locked on each other moments before her hardness slipped slowly past my lips. "Oh fuck," she cried out ecstatic, "I understand now. Fuck this feels good!" Her cock soon filled my mouth and her balls rested gently against my chin. I worked my tongue against the sensitive spots on the underside of her shaft, which she began to work back and forth between my lips. I studied her face as she slowly went mad from bliss and debauchery. She mauled her own tits, unwilling to believe the sensations coming from her newest appendage could overshadow all her other perceptions.

Before that night, I had never even thought about sucking a dick and while I wouldn't want to do it on the regular, I guess I could see the appeal. Watching Debbie respond violently to each movement of my tongue was exciting and knowing I was in control of her approaching climax was enticing in it's own way. My own cock strained against the confines of my trousers, but my hands stayed on her ass, guiding her movements in and out of my mouth.

"OH FUCK," she screamed in rapture, "I'm so close!" Her movements sped up to an erratic frenzy, no longer able to control her movements and instinctively climbing to the pinnacle of her first male orgasm. She grabbed my head and shoved her cock in as deep as she could go. Her body stiffened in pure gratification. I felt her explode into my mouth and relished the taste of her salty discharge. Shot after shot of semen flooded in me and what I couldn't swallow dribbled out over my lips. Finally she relaxed, pulled her softening cock out and bend down to kiss me, tasting herself on my tongue and lips. She crashed down beside me with a deep satisfied sigh, "No wonder you guys love sex so much... That was amazing."

I began to laugh. It's stupid I know! Nobody wants to be laughed at after sex. But it was just so silly to think that a straight guy's first amateurish blowjob can be described as amazing. She smacked me in the arm, a smile on her face showing me there were no hard feelings. "Stop laughing at me." She fake pouted, which of course set me into another fit of laughter. She pushed. I laughed. We wrestled. We kissed. She climbed on top of me. I kissed her neck and chest. She pawed at my clothes, nearly ripping them straight off. My hands explored her body. She was hard again. She whispered in my ears, "I want to fuck you so bad. Please. I've been thinking and fantasizing about it since we first did the research. Please let me fuck your ass." She kept kissing me intermittently as she delivered her ultimate request.

I was stunned. I had known she would want to test out her new cock. It had taken me quite some time before I got comfortable with the idea of sex with her like this. I was willing to handle her cock (I was in fact slowly jerking her at that moment) and even got myself so far as to give her a blowjob and swallow her cum. It hadn't been an offensive act, but I was still straight and I would not have done it for anyone else. Anal, on the other hand, had never entered my mind. My mind was racing as she planted kisses down my chest. "I'm not sure...", I mumbled still caught off guard.

She sat up straight, straddling my abdomen. Her five inches lay across my stomach, suddenly felt and looked more like ten inches long. I looked up at her and saw her provocatively playing with her perfectly sized tits and pinching her nipples. I felt my own cock twitch. Apparently, so did Debbie because she ground her ass over my crotch and moaned, "Don't worry, we have Vaseline and I'll go so... very... slow." She accentuated her last few words with a demonstration of slow thrusting. It looked so sexy I couldn't turn her down. I nodded my assent.

She crawled off the bed to get the Vaseline as I began to undress completely, aroused but still uncertain about the approaching ordeal. When she came back into the room she looked at me appraisingly. She licked her lips as she stepped up close and embraced me. Our erections pressed against each other and I was relieved to note that at least she was smaller than me, both in length and girth. We kissed some more. Not so much out of passion or lust, but gentle love. I felt secure, nodded again and got on the bed on hands and knees.