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Archive-name: Changes/dominion.txt
Archive-author: chronicled by Mike Shoemaker
Archive-title: Dominion


     Urinalysis had never been of much interest to Dr. John
Keller, and his drooping eyelids told him that he hadn't changed.
     Most of his colleagues at the American Research Conference
seemed to concur; apathy hung over the two hundred and twelve
doctors and scientists present in the auditorium like a damp
blanket.  He shifted to find comfort as Franz Goebels vividly
detailed relating pH balances to diet and kidney function, using
projected charts and graphics to drive home his various points.
Of all the speakers to lead off the conference, Keller wondered
why the ARC had chosen so uninvolving a presentation.  It was
hard enough for him to endure the thought of the parade of
stuffed shirts and drab personalities that would inevitably
appear, but his late night of beer and spades with a development
group from Palo Alto had left him wishing he'd stayed under
covers at the Ramada until after lunch.
     Goebels began tracing a diagram of the urethral tract with a
telescoping pointer, prompting Keller to rub his face and yawn.
Slumping lower and crossing his arms, he decided that the moment
was right to close his eyes for a second.  Just for a second....
     "Dr. Keller?"
     Keller's eyes blinked open, to find the auditorium quiet and
mostly empty.  Stiffness had set in in his legs and lower back,
and a curtain of fatigue lay over his body.  That he'd fallen
asleep was not surprising to him; that he'd fallen asleep for
hours was another matter.  He hadn't intended to ignore all the
speakers, especially the lecturer from Loyola Marymount; Keller
was interested in toxic bacteria, and he hoped that the man had
had to postpone his presentation.
     He looked to his right, where the voice had come from.  Two
women in corporate-issue skirts and business jackets stood there,
smiling.  The closest one, a slender blonde with thick hair and
green eyes, was holding herself by the arms.  A dark-featured
hispanic woman stood behind her, a little to her right; she was
well over six feet tall, and broad across the shoulders.  He
decided that if they'd been giving the speeches, he'd have been
awake the whole time.
     "Dr. Keller," repeated the blonde, "I'm sorry to wake you,
but I need a moment of your time."
     He inhaled and pulled straight in his seat; his watch read
"12:11".  "Jesus," he moaned.  "Don't be sorry.  I never should
have dropped off like that."
     "That's okay," she said.  "You look like you had a rough
night."
     He stood, his stiff legs sending a protest to his still-
groggy brain.  "Well, I guess that's my fault, too.  Don't guess
there's much to be done about it now."
     "My name is Rebecca Lane, and this is my associate, Lisa
Santiago."  He shook hands with them; Lisa's grip was almost
painful.  "I'm currently working on a project that would benefit
from your expertise.  I'd like to talk with you about it over
lunch."
     He shrugged.  "Well, sure.  I'm a little shy on funds right
now, but I can manage Mickey D's or--"
     She shook her head.  "I'm not much into Happy Meals, Dr.
Keller.  I've made reservations at Spago's--and I'm footing the
bill."
     He decided that his good karma had reached unprecedented
levels.  "Your wheels or mine?"

     "Muscle enhancement through recombinant DNA application?"
Keller stabbed his Chicken Kiev with his fork, and swallowed a
bite.  Spago's was bustling with noise and movement, as the
waiters rushed to serve the lawyers, doctors, and upwardly-mobile
professionals who could afford to look at the menu.
"Interesting, but I think there's a group at Johns Hopkins that's
trying something similar.  Have you asked them for help?"
     Rebecca waved her hand in seeming indifference, and returned
to dicing up her chef's salad.  "They're on a different tangent.
I moved past their theories months ago."
     "I see."  Nearby, a waiter collided with a busboy, sending a
tray of water glasses and silverware crashing onto a table of
businessmen.  The men were not amused.  "Well, to be perfectly
blunt, what can I do for you?  I deal with viruses, and that
doesn't seem related to your plans."
     "Not true."  She washed down a helping of lettuce and cheese
with Evian, then continued.  "I've gone as far as I can with my
testing, Dr. Keller, and I now know I can significantly enhance
the muscle quality of my subjects through subtle DNA
resequencing.  My problem is delivering the payload."
     He looked at her blankly, still uncertain about her
intentions.  "Oh," he said finally, his eyes flashing open.  "You
want to piggyback your DNA sequence on a tailored virus!  That's
brilliant!"
     She smiled self-conciously.  "I appreciate you saying so.
But if I were so brilliant, I'd have developed the carrier
myself."
     "Nonsense.  Viral transfer is tricky and involved stuff.
You've got your hands full with your own work."  He nodded.  "I
think I can help you.  I've got some theories I've been wanting
to try, and this is a very practical application."
     "Yes!"  Rebecca was leaning closer now, bursting with
enthusiasm.  "If we can make this work, we'll be contributing
something of extraordinary magnitude to the world!  Muscular
dystrophy will be a thing of the past, and--"
     "And we'll be jointly accepting the Nobel Prize."  He
winked.  Looking to Lisa, he said, "You've been pretty quiet.
What's your angle on this?"
     Santiago shrugged, and looked at Rebecca.  "I'm just her
girl Friday, Doctor Keller.  I move boxes, set up equipment--the
things she shouldn't be bothered with."  Keller noted a trace of
an accent in her voice, which he guessed to be Cuban or Puerto
Rican.
     "She's much more than a strong back," said Rebecca, stroking
Lisa's hand.  "She's an anchor.  I couldn't have gotten this far
without her."  Keller noticed Lisa's hopeful expression, her eyes
searching for--and finding--Rebecca's approbation.
     "Yes, well...when do we start?"
     "Anytime.  Although I'm sure you'll be preoccupied with the
conference for--"
     "To hell with the conference.  I want to be in your lab
today.  I'll wire the university and let them know what I'm up to
here, and I'm sure they'll approve enough funding to set me up
for a while."
     "Excellent."  Rebecca grinned and raised her glass.  "A
toast then.  To the next wave in bioresearch."
     "Here, here."

     Lane's facility was housed in the basement of Venus Inc., a
budding medical technology firm, which itself was a subsidiary of
the Amatech conglomerate.  At first glance, the two-story
building had been fairly unimpressive to Keller, but he found the
underground lab to be a pardigm of cutting-edge equipment, all of
it new or little-used.  He remembered hearing vague rumors of
Amatech being owned by a partnership of incredibly wealthy women,
but had never thought to look into it.
     Keller buzzed around the lab in adolescent glee, handling
and adjusting the complex machinery.  Rebecca stood watching with
an amused smile.  "How do you like it?"
     "Like it?"  He shook his head, and gestured feebly at the
devices.  "I love it.  I'm like a kid in a candy store.  Amatech
must be putting some serious money into your project."
     "They believe in me.  I hope you will, too."
     They began with a thorough review of her notes and theories,
all of which struck Keller as perfectly plausible.  He realized
that designing a viral agent to locate and modify the DNA
structure of muscle cells would be much easier than he'd first
imagined, and might be a quickly attainable goal.  Keller then
set to work, using the available resources to create several
strains and interbreed them accordingly.  Rebecca was by his side
the entire time, lending thoughtful advice and suggestions, and
encouraging him when the task became daunting.  With her
brilliance, easy wit, enthusiasm, and enigmatic beauty, Keller
found himself admiring Rebecca more and more--an admiration that
moved beyond simple professional respect.
     Lisa had been a constant factor through the experiments,
always there to retrieve what was needed, prepare machinery, and
perform the sometimes exhausting chores they required.  He was
always surprised by her brute strength, as she hefted crates and
machinery with what seemed superhuman power.  While Rebecca's
delicate beauty appealed to his civilized virtues, Lisa charged
his libido on a basic, untamed level.  The latin woman was lean
and strong, apparent even when wearing her long white lab smock,
and her power hinted at an animalistic sexuality lurking just
below the surface.  The moments when she would press against him
while delivering equipment, or when she would leave her hand on
his arm while chatting left him hoping she shared the attraction.
     This was further compounded by his suspicion that Rebecca
and Lisa were lovers.  He would overhear them speaking in
whispered tones about intimate encounters when they felt he was
beyond earshot, and catch glimpses of them holding one another
and kissing when he would turn to complete an experiment.
Strange as the scenario was, he hoped to insinuate himself into
their midst.
     The viral agent they sought developed two months after
Keller's arrival.  Dubbed KL-1 (for Keller/Lane), the
biomechanism had successfully reacted with the tissues in the
rats and mice they'd infected, resulting in superior physical
specimens.  Shortly thereafter, they developed a strain with an
air vector, for use in inhalation therapy.  The experiments were
a smashing success, and the euphoria was evident in all of them.
After a celebratory trip to Spago's, they returned to the firm
and planned to meet the next day to organize their notes.  With
visions of every major scientific award parading through his
mind, Keller retired to his quarters.
     He entered the lab the next morning at nine o'clock sharp,
whistling and stepping lightly, to find Rebecca and Lisa,
securing a test tube of the virus.  They were whispering and
giggling.
     "Ladies," he said, "This is wonderful time to alter the
course of history.  Shall we get started?"
     "I'm afraid we're one step ahead of you," said Rebecca.
     He slid onto a stool facing them.  "Come again?"
     "Well," she said, holding a test tube between her thumb and
index finger, "Lisa and I didn't go to bed last night.  We had
other plans."
     "What...other plans?"  Keller was beginning to shift on thestool.
     "Our true plans," she said.  "You see, there are a few
things you may not have known from the outset that you'd have
considered a bit suspicious."
     "Such as?"
     "Well, for one, the effects on our male test subjects were
temporary," she said.  "I fashioned my DNA sequence to
permanently affect only targets with an XX chromosomal pattern."
     "Only for females?  Why?"
     "I'm getting to that.  We also did some playing around last
night, and combined our latest viral carrier with an agent that
reproduces at a substantially higher rate.  In fact, once exposed
to air, the virus will spread over several cubic miles in the
space of a few minutes.   On this exponential scale, the
atmosphere will become saturated in a matter of hours."
     He slid off the stool, to stand facing her; Lisa stepped
half between them, arms crossed, sharing Rebecca's knowing smile.
"I'm still a little confused.  What good is our discovery if it's
limited to one sex?  We have to share this--"
     "'Share'?  Just as men have shared millenia of injustice and
inequity on women, simply for being the 'weaker sex'?  I don't
think so."  She caressed the side of the tube, and said, "No, as
you said, it's a wonderful time to alter the course of history.
Only we won't just be changing history, we'll be righting it."
     He smiled, trying to convince himself that she was joking,
but a sick feeling told him that she wasn't.  The cutting-edge
equipment, unlimited resources, and ideal facilities had been too
perfect.  The realization dawned that he'd been a tool in a
broader scheme, a pawn controlled by a shadowy cartel with a
malign agenda.  "You're serious," he said, face somber.  "You're
going to let your prejudices stand in the way of a tremendous
humanitarian accomplishment.  Please don't--"
     "Save the speeches, John," she said.  "This is going to
happen.  And I want you here to witness it."
     He took a step forward, then halted as Lisa uncurled her
arms and dropped her smock.  She wore a tight black bodysuit,
sleeveless, cut low to expose her ample cleavage.  He considered
pushing past her--after all, he was a man--but her physique gave
him pause.  "Just put the tube away, Rebecca," he said, looking
past Lisa.  "We--we don't know what the results will be on a
human target--"
     "Of course we do," she said, and stroked Lisa's smooth, hard
shoulder.  "I administered the DNA therapy to Miss Santiago long
ago, well before I approached you.  It was a complete success.  I
only needed your aid in fashioning a vehicle for mass delivery."
     "You're lying," he offered halfheartedly.  "She's strong,
but--"
     Lisa lunged and took him by the collar; in a quick motion,
she held him under his chest and crotch and pushed him high above
her head.  Her arms were locked out, and she showed no visible
strain whatsoever.  Lisa grinned up at him and asked, "Is this
proof enough for you?"
     He squirmed in her grasp, his mind buzzing with disbelief.
"P--put me down!  Please!"
     She shrugged, then lowered him back to his feet, a hand
still closed on his collar.  "I won't let you do this!  I won't
go along--"
     "Please, try something, Doctor," purred Lisa, sliding a hand
down the front of his shirt.  "I've been so looking forward
to...subduing you."
     "Get out of my way--"  He moved to push past her, but Lisa
curled a steely arm around his neck and kneeled; this pulled him
to his rear, and she shoved him flat.  She slid to sit astride
his abdomen, pinning his wrists to the floor.
     "Gotcha," she said to the struggling man.
     "Rebecca," he said.  "Rebecca, come on, you're a brilliant
doctor, don't tarnish your reputation by--"
     "Lisa," said Rebecca.  "I think John's a little excited by
all this.  Wear him down a bit."
     Lisa released his wrists, and dropped beside him; he rolled
to rise, and felt her python-like legs wrap around his chest from
behind him.  He gasped as she squeezed, crushing the air from his
lungs.  His fingers pried at her legs and crossed ankles, but it
was like trying to unbend iron.  Her grip was secure.  She held
him in this way for a time, bringing him on the verge of blacking
out, before forcing him to his back once more and shifting to sit
over his neck and chest, his chin pressed against her pelvis.
She clamped her folded legs against the sides of his head, and
pinned his arms.
     "I'm really enjoying this," said Lisa, undulating her thigh
muscles against him.  "It's been hard keeping my hands to myself
for three months.  But it was worth it."
     "G-get off me," he croaked.
     She shook her head.  "I'd rather get on you."  At this, she
raised, then seated herself over his face, just under his nose.
She laced her fingers through his hair and pulled up, gyrating
against his tightly-smothered mouth and cheeks as he kicked and
thrashed beneath her.
     "You should see by now how futile your efforts are," said
Rebecca, crossing her legs.  "You're at our mercy.  But, please,
keep fighting.  I so enjoy the sight of a man being dominated."
     Some minutes passed, and Lisa noted his struggles weakening.
She lifted up, keeping him pulled between her legs, then rolled
to her side.  "Now for the coupe de grace," she said, and clamped
him into powerful headscissors.  Her ankles locked together, and
he jerked and fought to escape the pain.  "I've always wondered
how having you in this position would feel.  Trust me, it's
wonderful."
     After what seemed an eternity, Keller's vision clouded with
pulsing lights, then went black.
     He awoke seated on the floor, with Lisa behind him, her legs
encircling his waist and arms.  She was leaning back, resting on
her elbows.  "Good to have you with us," said Rebecca.
     Keller tried to speak, but was too groggy.  "Don't worry,"
said Lisa, raising and wrapping her arms around him.  "You're
just fine.  Trust me, I know how to do more than squeeze you
out."  She licked and nibbled his earlobe, and said, "And you're
just too damned cute to injure permanently."
     "It's time," said Rebecca.  "Pay close attention, John.  You
helped make this possible."  She held the bottle by the lip and
cork, savoring his panicked expression, then let go.  It exploded
into fragments against the linoleum.
     It took only seconds for Rebecca to feel the effects:  she
staggered, and slumped back against the counter, holding her palm
to her forehead.  Tingling energy raced through her body as the
viral agents took hold, re-shaping her basic genetic sequence at
incredible speed.  She felt her smock tightening against her
shoulders, her blouse and skirt straining against her growing
body.  Muscle and sinew ballooned and tightened, and her breasts
swelled and broke the clasp between the cups of her bra.  She
moaned as the metamorphosis continued, hardening and increasing
her muscularity, making her taller, more powerful.  She tore the
ruined smock and blouse away; her skirt broke free and dropped to
the ground.
     The transformation lasted only moments more, then was
complete:  Rebecca stood before them, a fair-skinned, statuesque
fusion of muscularity and feminity.  All that remained of her
apparel were white thong panties, matching garter, and seamed
hose.  She kicked away her torn pumps, then ran her hands along
her chiseled physique, over her full, raised breasts, and into
her hair.  "Yes," she said, relishing in the arousal her
transformation had triggered.  "Yes, this is...perfect.  This is
the dawn of a new world."
     She took Keller by the front of his shirt; Lisa released
him, and Rebecca jerked him into her arms.  She ripped his shirt
away in a smooth, effortless motion, and dropped the tatters to
the floor.  She gave him a passionate kiss, her tongue dancing
with his, melting his apprehensions, one hand sliding into his
hair and pushing him to her.
     "Come," she said, as Lisa pressed against him from the rear,
sandwiching him.  "Join us in our moment of glory.  We'll make
love as it's always been meant to be."  She brought her lips
close for anther kiss, and whispered, "Rejoice in our dominion."

                      THE BEGINNING


(The events and characters depicted in this story are copyright
1993 Mike Shoemaker, all rights reserved)

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