Specimens of Gender

"Hmm. One more chapter?" I rested the thick, hardcover book on my chest and turned my head to check the clock. It was only 11:47 - late, but not as late as some of the nights I'd put in lately. Still, I did have to be up at 5:00 in the morning. "Better not," I decided with a sigh.

Since it was too big for the nightstand, I reluctantly dropped the book on floor. I was already itching to pick it up again. It'd been months since I'd last found anything decent to read, and this book had grabbed me from page one. Still, I had already stayed up longer than planned. I'd already slept in twice this week, so I really needed to get out for that morning jog. Not only was it my only real exercise, it was the only regular opportunity I had to be en-femme out in public.

It was nothing glamorous, just a sports bra, high-cut panty briefs, a pair of short jogging shorts, a tight moisture-wicking top, and the absolute cutest pair of sneakers I had ever seen. With my hair at about shoulder length, a pink baseball cap and oversized supermodel sunglasses were generally enough to help me pass those few early morning souls I happened to . . . well, pass by. The smell of Secret antiperspirant, mixed with a dab of Night Magic perfume behind each ear, completed the illusion of femininity.

I had no sooner turned off the bedside lamp when a sudden shaft of light exploded through my window. "What the hell?" It wasn't the porch light - I hadn't even turned it on tonight. It couldn't have been headlights either - the fence behind me blocked off the neighbours' driveways. The only thing left was a flashlight, and I didn't like that idea at all.

Not when I was on the second floor.

As quietly as I could, I grabbed my glasses and rolled out of bed. As I crawled over to the open window, I silently cursed myself, sure that the threadbare carpet would catch my stockings and drag a run down from the knees. If there WAS a burglar out there, skulking around on the porch roof, I didn't want him to see me, especially not dressed as I was in a pink babydoll, frilled panties, and stockings, with my toenails painted a soft, glittery pink.

I peeked over the sill, half-expecting to find some ski-masked intruder staring back at me.

There was nobody there.

"Shit." I decided to risk rising to my knees for a better look. The scratching sensation on my suddenly bare flesh told me they were already ruined anyway. That light had to have come from somewhere. I cupped my hands to the window and strained my tired eyes.

That's when everything went white . . . and then black.

*******

I woke up groggy and in pain. I tried to get up anyway. Big mistake. The darkened world began spinning about my head, and the jabs of pain became splinters of agony. I collapsed back onto the cold metal surface (clearly not my bed), and then it all went black again.

*******

I have no idea how long I was out, but my world was still dark when I awoke for a second time. The pain was still there too - dull and throbbing - but at least I was awake and alert. Well, more or less. I had no idea where I was. I took a deep breath, braced myself, and tried to sit up again - slowly this time.

It was no use. Somebody had tied me up or strapped me down, leaving me to wonder if it was for my own protection or theirs. If the pain in my head was any indication, it was probably the latter. Besides, how many hospitals use solid metal straps to restrain their patients?

I told myself not to panic. I had to remain calm. I forced myself to relax. I began flexing my arms and legs, testing my restraints. They were cold, solid, and secure. What was worrying me, though, was how weak I felt. Restrained as I was, I could feel that my strength wasn't what it should have been. Even my fists felt somehow smaller where I clenched them at my side.

"Hello!" Yelling made the pain in my head worse, but what choice did I have? Either I endured my captivity in silence, or I risked a little pain in a bid for freedom. "Hello! Anybody?" Of course, the odds were pretty good that the wrong people might hear me, but I had to do something.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and screamed.

Somehow, the echo that came back to my ears sounded . . . off. It was as if somebody were mocking me, repeating my cries in some childish, high-pitched falsetto.

If there was somebody there, though, they offered me no other answer than that awkward echo.

*******

It seemed like days later - but was probably just a few hours - when my solitary confinement ended. An eerily feminine voice, which seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, announced, "Specimen X65ASD4F - prepare for quarantine release."

Specimen? Quarantine? Things were looking worse by the second. "Who are you people?"

"The specimen WILL be silent." Then, as if speaking to someone else, the voice ordered "Release the quarantine measures."

Before I could ask what 'quarantine measures' were, the darkness faded. It shimmered at first - how could darkness shimmer? - then exploded in a blaze of white light. I wrenched my left should in a futile attempt to cover eyes that I couldn't reach. When they finally adjusted, I found myself surrounded by a blur of indistinct figures, lost in a maze of white. They looked human, but that was all I could tell. I didn't even know how many there were, since one shape blended into the next.

Apparently, wherever I was, they had taken my glasses.

"Um, could somebody please explain to me what's going on here?" I was ashamed at the quiver of fear in my voice, especially since it still sounded off, but I was frightened enough not to let it bother me. I squinted into the glare and tried to make out some kind of detail in the room (or cell, depending upon where I was).

Rather than reply to my question, the coldly feminine voice said, "Vision deficiency and photosensitivity noted." Then, after a brief pause, "Dim the lights."

"Wow." This was a new voice.

"Ugghh!" Another new voice.

"He . . . he's hideous."

"Bizarre is what he is."

"Some freakish mutation." Another new voice after another.

"Don't know . . . I think he might be just what we need." One new voice after another, all of them almost childishly feminine. Bimboish was the only word that came to mind.

The original disembodied voice effectively silenced my audience. "Enough." Colder than before, if that were possible, it warned, "Interaction with the specimen will be kept to a minimum."

I had been starting to think I might be part of some government experiment, but no longer. With the lights dimmed, my vision was slowly adjusting. It was still blurred, but I could make out more distinct shapes if I squinted the right way. One glimpse of the women from whom the unflattering 'interactions' had come, and I knew that even the most far-fetched CIA conspiracy theory couldn't even approach this level of weirdness.

They were all clothed in some kind of skin-tight garb, flesh-coloured so as to appear almost naked. The shortest of them stood just under 7 feet tall. Size aside, tough, they all seemed to have been cast from the same mould. Thin, nice legs, very tiny waists, breasts a few sizes larger than average, pretty faces, and completely hairless. Not well-shaved, but completely and utterly hairless. Bald, no eyebrows, no arm-hair, no leg-hair, and (so I assumed) no pussy-hair either. Nevertheless, they were still the most gorgeous group of women I had ever laid eyes on.

I can't explain why. I mean, it's not like I have a fetish for bald and tall, but the attraction seemed as natural as it was powerful.

"Specimen X65ASD4F - you may communicate."

"Hey, cut the specimen X6 . . . 65 . . . A . . . the specimen stuff." With a healthy dose of false bravado, I said, "The name is Sally." Oh my god! How did that slip out? "I mean Scott."

It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn the voice sounded amused. "Very well. Label duly noted . . . Sally."

Before I could correct her, the voice commanded that the attendants leave the room. An instant later, I was alone, even though I hadn't seen anyone leave. One moment they were there, and the next they were gone.

There wasn't even the campy swishy-sparkle of a Star Trek transporter effect.

I heard a new voice speak out from behind me. "Welcome . . . Sally." The mechanical distortion was gone, as was the cold tone and harsh volume, but I could have sworn it was the same voice of authority as before.

"Thanks."

I couldn't move to see, but I sensed she had come to stand behind my head. "You may rise, Sarah."

Like my earlier audience, the restraints instantly vanished. I was free from the waist up, but it was better than nothing. Feeling very weak and uncoordinated, I tried to sit up, but tottered alarmingly forward and to the side. I felt top-heavy, as if the restraints hadn't been removed, just released from the table. It was awkward, and required a great deal of concentration that I couldn't really afford, but I was able to twist around and get my first good look at my captor.

For the most part, she looked like the other women, but with two major differences. First, her skin-tight garb (uniform, maybe?) was a light green. Second, her bald head sported an elaborate, colourful tattoo, the purpose of which I couldn't fathom. It looked like some kind of symbol, but it was no language I recognized. All I did know was that it marked her as far, far more attractive than the others.

"You are attracted. Good, very good."

It wasn't until she pointed it out that I realised I could see. I reached up and felt my face with fingers that didn't seem to be my own. For that matter, my face didn't feel quite right either. The point is, I wasn't wearing glasses, yet I could suddenly see perfectly.

Maybe there would be a positive side to this whole ordeal.

Nodding her approval, she bit down on her thumbnail and said, "Note that specimen has adjusted, and is able to visually differentiate."

I tried to convince myself that all the pieces were falling together, but most of them still didn't fit. If it wasn't some kind of government project, then what was it? I had a theory, but it was too far-fetched, too bizarre to even contemplate.

She laughed. This bizarrely attractive, undeniably authoritative woman actually laughed! "Your little conspiracy theories amuse us highly." With a wink, she added, "As for your other theory, well, we hardly need to hide anymore."

"Huh?"

"Maybe this will make things clear." She came around the bed to stand at my side. Spellbound, my eyes followed her hand as it slowly climbed to her throat. Next, she laid three fingers upon her ivory flesh, and smiled. A tap of her index finger - with its short red nail - and her uniform disappeared from the waist up.

Her breasts were magnificent! Easily a 40 DD, they were as firm and perfectly rounded as any supermodel's. The nipples were tiny little circles of pink, but appeared slightly swollen.

"Very perceptive. You will learn why later." Had she read my mind? Before I could properly contemplate that question, she proceeded to the next phase of her demonstration. One tap of her middle finger - with its short purple nail - and all that remained was her green bikini-bottom.

"Whoa." Her legs were as perfect as I had expected (and hoped). They were hairless, spotless, flawless, and downright sexy. They were a definite turn-on. Slowly, I allowed my eyes to travel down her ivory flesh, and then gasped softly at the sight of her feet. I don't know what made them so attractive, but I suddenly wanted to leap off the table and bathe them in kisses. A size too small for her body, they were as perfect as everything else about her.

What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion. She tapped her pinkie - with its short orange nail - against her chest. Her bikini seemed to fade or melt away, but it took a moment for me to believe what I was seeing.

I had been expecting a hairless pussy, but found instead a hairless cock! And not just any cock, either. Limp, it had to be a good six inches long and four inches around, bigger than any I'd ever seen.

Self-consciously, I Iicked my lips. I wasn't gay - or so I told myself, time and time again - but the sissy girl inside me had a definite thing for well-hung shemales. "Absolutely beautiful." I longed to pleasure her. The rational part of my brain told me I should be very much afraid of what was happening here, but the attraction was instinctive. Rational thought had no power over it.

She lowered her hand and smiled. "The sight of an endowed-male is as strange to me, as an endowed-female is to you."

"Huh?"

"What you see here is representational of all females of our species." She snapped her fingers and released me from the rest of my bonds. "As one might expect, although you may not find it so obvious, our men are the exact opposite."

"Opposite?" I was confused, but there was a glimmer of understanding within me. I think I needed to hear her say it, though.

"Yes." She sighed with what I assumed was remembered pleasure. "Our males wear a mane of long, growing hair from the top of their heads and down the line of their spine, ending it a little knot just above their anus. Up front, they are perfectly flat, right from the smooth, unbroken flesh of their chests, down to the downy softness of their vaginal crevice."

I found it was an effort to tear my gaze away from her cock. I was obsessing over it, literally salivating at the thought of it, I couldn't stop. My vivid imagination was coming up with dozens of perverse ways to worship her ivory organ, and I found myself unable to focus on anything else.

"Our males are wholly subservient to us," she explained, "existing only to bring us pleasure and bear our young. Don't get me wrong, they are very intelligent, with their own rigidly defined castes and roles, but can only express a personality when left in isolation."

She helped me to rise from the table. I was so hard to maintain my balance. My legs felt too weak to support me, and somehow too short. I wobbled back and forth as she led me across the room into darkness.

"As children," she explained, "they tend to be rather aggressive and independent. From what we have observed, they respond very much as the men from your world do as adolescents." We were still walking, although the utter blackness made it hard to tell if we were actually moving. "It isn't until they are first taken by crib-mates that the conditioning begins."

All I did was shake my head, but she could clearly read my thoughts and answered the unspoken questions.

"Our males breed in groups of three, hormonally balanced with one another to ensure a simultaneous birth. Each family group produces one male child and two female crib-mates. They are raised as a family unit, kept together until the female children experience their awakening." She reached out, took my hand, and squeezed. "Crib-mates remain hormonally and telepathically linked throughout their young lives. When it is time for them to mature, the female adolescents will seek out their male crib-mate for conditioning."

I found myself becoming aroused, even as fear began growing within the pit of my stomach.

"As I said, young males are independent and aggressive. They will often hide, run away, or otherwise try to defend themselves from the advances from their crib-mates. Really, though, it is a futile gesture." She squeezed my hand again. "Biology can be deceived, but never denied. The three crib-mates will mate together, with the females taking the male anally and orally. The moment contact is made, the conditioning begins and the male's resistance begins to fade. By the time the females have ejaculated into their crib-mate, they have fully awakened and the conditioning is complete. The male is utterly docile and submissive forever more."

"Do they remain a . . . family unit?" I asked.

I couldn't see, but I sensed her turn to stare at me. "Of course not. Crib-mates cannot successfully breed with one another," she told me, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "While the female crib-mates remain linked, the male instead becomes part of the greater community, offering himself to whichever female desires his attentions."

We suddenly found ourselves standing before a softly illuminated pink door. There was no transition. The world was simply dark and empty one moment and bright the next.

"Sadly, not all family units survive to maturity. While it's very rare to lose a female, their aggressive, reckless, male crib-mates often die stupid, pointless, entirely avoidable deaths." She was breathing heavily next to me. "When that happens, there is no way for the females to properly mature and awaken." My hand was beginning to throb beneath her increasingly vice-like grip. What had started as a companionable gesture was starting to hurt.

"What happens then?" I asked in a small, high-pitched, falsetto whisper.

"The natural balance is disrupted. With no opportunity to mature through their crib-mate, they cannot be awakened, leaving them unable to breed with conditioned males. Instead, they begin to form exclusive attachments with one another. When the urge becomes too strong, they take one another." She shivered, but I couldn't tell if it was in disgust or arousal. "Physically, it's entirely satisfying, but the emotional component is . . . lacking." She pressed her hand against the door. "Some females become uncontrollable. They will attempt to take other, mature females against their will."

In my mind, I pictured my captor taking one of the women who had surrounded me earlier. Not only was it easy to imagine, but it was extremely arousing. More than that, though, it made me feel jealous that they were being taken instead of me.

"We are hoping you can help."

With a loud series of beeps, the pink door slid open before us. Inside were hundreds of females, distinguished only by the different tattoos atop their heads. As we stood within the door, one of the women came running toward us. With a squeal of glee, she jumped in the air and landed with her arms and legs wrapped around my captor. As I looked up, I noticed that their markings were identical.

"You keep staring at my birth patterning." The two women stopped kissing for a moment. "I was waiting for the opportunity to explain, but I must say, the fact that you thought it was a symbol of rank or status is highly amusing."

Her partner laughed. It was the most delicious laugh I had ever heard. "Our birth patterning marks our family unit," she explained. "All female children are born with it."

Again, reading my thoughts, my captor explained, "The other females do not possess such markings because they have matured. The markings fade once they awakened through their male crib-mate."

Her crib-mate dropped to the ground and came around to stand on the other side of me. It was only then that I realised how much taller they were than me. They towered over me by nearly two feet! Each of them took an arm and led me deeper into the room, until we came to stand before the immense, blue-green pool in the centre. In perfect unison, they said, "Look down and tell us what you see."

Oh my god. It all made sense now. The lack of strength, the awkwardness, the strange balance, the difficulty walking, the height difference . . . it all made sense. Staring back at me from the pool was . . . well, the real Sally. I looked shorter, thinner, and differently proportioned than before, but I sensed that was because their males are of similar size. My breasts were comparatively tiny, only B-cups, and there were no nipples. As for my cock, it hadn't changed, but seemed embarrassingly small compared to the two women on either side of me.

"It has taken us many years, and many experiments, but we believe you represent the perfect mid-species we have been searching for. You are neither male nor female, yet you are both." The two of them began fondling and stroking my body. "You have everything you need to be sexually attractive to an un-awakened female, yet you retain the basic shape and size to awaken our need to complete the conditioning."