Greetings from Jessica's vagina! AMA!

[dreamweevil]

As a public service, my partner, "Jessica", is transcribing this for me. She's promised to give you my words mostly unedited, so long as I abide the ground rules that I've agreed to. If she does add her own comments, she'll put them in italics. Through her eyes I'll be able to "see" many, if not all, of your comments and questions.

The ground rules are pretty simple. I can't give real names, places, times, anything that might lead some misguided nut to try to "rescue" me or otherwise interfere with what's happening.

I don't need or want to be rescued. From the start, Jessica made it very clear, if I continued on the road I was taking with her, that there'd be no turning back. In fact, the first word she ever said directly to me, when she caught me looking at her:

"Careful."

I thought, at first, she was cautioning me against inappropriate behavior; but then she looked down at her own body, and back up at me, coy, unmistakable.

I'd never had a woman be sexually aggressive towards me in the slightest. It stirred feelings I didn't know I had. A year earlier I might have shied away, but at this time in my life I had nothing, really, to lose. So I took the bait. And was I ever glad I did.

After a frenzy of a "first date", I ended up in bed with Jessica that very night, still mystified by my good fortune. When she undressed for the first time? My lord. What did I do to deserve this?

After our first lovemaking session, I asked her exactly that.

She held me, my naked skin against hers, feeling her breathe. "You have no idea what you're in for."

That shocked me back to reality for a brief moment. "What do you mean?"

"I had you about ten seconds after you set eyes on me. You've never completely been under a woman's spell before. But you're under mine. Am I wrong?"

There was such hunger in her eyes!

"No," I whispered, breathless.

"Good," she said. "Are you enjoying it? The sense of giving yourself up to me?"

I'd never even thought about it before. But I liked it, the banter, the role-playing, the 'battle of the sexes' playing itself out in all its naked glory. Before I could even answer, she raised the stakes.

"Because," she added, "I think I'm going to pussy-whip you into complete submission. Train every cell in your body to obey my every wish. Take complete and utter control of you. Are you ready for that?"

"I might try to resist, but..."

Jessica licked her lips. "I wouldn't have it any other way. But you can start by exploring every centimeter of my body. I want you to know every every scent, every bit of me inside and out. I'll teach you just where to touch me, and when. Soon it'll happen without me even having to ask."

When I finally got to exploring between her legs, she gave bit of ominous foreshadowing. Just as I reached for her sex with my tongue: "I'm going to eat you alive. Would you like that?"

"Yes," I said, right before she pushed my head into her crotch.

"Soon enough," she said.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind of sexual exploration, of talking, sleeping, making love. I think we managed to get one meal in somewhere. I was, and still am, in love. Her theme, of "training" me, of taking control of me and my body, continued throughout it; kinky and just creepy enough to keep me on edge and off balance. She did things to me, and with me, that no woman had done before. I felt myself falling, further and further; sleep-deprived and understandably dizzy.

Until finally, sometime during the night, she issued a direct command:

"Shrink."

"Shrink?? What??"

She didn't answer right away. I felt a weird sensation; a tightness across my skin. "I don't get it."

"You're completely under my control, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm giving you, your body, a direct order." She stood up, walked to her bedroom door, and locked it. "The only way you're leaving this room is inside my body. Which means you need to be small enough to fit inside me. I need you to shrink."

"Jessica, I don't know how to do that! Plus, it'd violate the laws of phys--"

Jessica kept her gaze on me, and my sentence was cut off by the sensation: that tightness had grown much more severe, uncomfortably so, like I was wearing clothes two sizes too small.

"You don't have to do anything-- other than listen to what I'm telling you. If this is meant to happen, your body will do what I ask." Jessica walked back to the foot of the bed, watching me.

"But I--"

"I said, shrink."

The tightness increased. It was like a boa constrictor wrapped around not just my arms and chest but also my legs and head. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't figure out how she was doing it.

"Come on," she insisted. "I've got a nice, warm place waiting for you." Jessica ran her fingers through her dark pubic hair.

I couldn't help but emit a muffled scream. Now I felt like I was inside a medieval suit of armor, hard steel, that was being ratcheted smaller by an invisible army of elves. I closed my eyes to try to escape the pain. My skin, at her command, was contracting against itself, taking me with it. It now felt like I had a cement mixer on top of me.

"Love trumps the laws of physics," she said, softly. "Look," she said, coming to my side and holding my hand against hers. "It's working."

My hand was smaller than hers.

"But... how?"

As my body obeyed this impossible command, the pressure seemed to lessen. The room seemed so big! Jessica moved closer, now towering over me: perhaps twice my size, and the smaller I became, the more anxious she seemed to get.

"It doesn't matter. Just hurry it up. Yes, that's it. Keep going. Smaller!"

Suddenly she was climbing back into bed with me. I tried to slow things down, get her to wait, but she wouldn't have it. I tried to scoot away, but she picked me up almost effortlessly, held me above her chest as she lay on her back.

"It's going to be okay. I'm going to keep you warm, and safe. I know you want it as much as I do."

I'm not sure how I would have answered that, if I could have.

"It's time. You get to go where men dream of," Jessica said. Behind me, her knees came up. Her legs spread. I felt like a deer in headlights as she moved me down there, between those legs, gathered me up between them, and started rubbing and pushing me against herself. She was wet-- more than I'd ever felt her be. It's not that I didn't want to experience what she was offering, not that I'd have turned her down, but I was desperate to get some questions answered, understand in the slightest what was going on. I tried to squirm away, turning this way and that but it didn't bother her in the least; no matter which way I went, her labia touched me and covered me with slippery secretions. Worse yet, I was still shrinking.

Jessica held me against her sex, building toward sexual ecstasy. I could feel her vagina opening beneath me; growing larger relative to my own size: soft, inviting. She was rubbing me back and forth; her wiry pubic hair abrasive on my face and chest; her warmth inviting but now too large for my tiny member to enjoy; my balls sore from hitting the edge of her vagina as they slid past. Suddenly: pulling me away from her body, two fingers under my legs bending me to ninety degrees; her hand behind my rump, pushing my legs inward where they disappeared with a warm, wet slurp.

All I could do at this point was help her enjoy it. She rocked her hips and kept me moving and moaned when I moved my legs. My knees were at her G-spot while my chest was up against her clitoris. "That's it, right there!"

As she continued I could feel her insides getting warmer; the muscles around her entrance getting softer until my rear end slipped inside her.

She orgasmed. One of those huge, extended orgasms she loves. Her body pulled at mine. She had me hold onto her hand, straighten myself out so she could push me in and pull me out again; but with each thrust I was going deeper into her. I could feel the orgasm from inside her body; as she took her hands away I was sliding deeper, nothing to hold onto. When she reached for me with two fingers I thought it was to help me hold on, but those fingers went atop my head and pushed me deep into her body. I tried to grab onto one but everything was so slick, and her fingernails were dangerously sharp. Her fingertips slipped away from me and I watched them go, leaving behind what seemed to be an impossibly long tunnel: not only was I inside but I was deep inside. Her orgasm subsided: I could feel her breath slowing. The tunnel started shrinking.

"No! Wait!" I tried to yell. She couldn't hear. Afraid of suffocation, I tried to push my way towards the outside. She seemed to like the feeling as I struggled inside her, but every time I made progress, her vaginal muscles would contract, pushing me back in. After the third attempt I paused to rest.

"We've done it," I heard Jessica say. "I've got you." With that, she plunged me into complete, airless darkness. In desperation I made one more attempt to push towards the outside, but couldn't: her vagina was completely shut. Not only did her muscles seal the opening, but I could feel her bring her legs together to make sure.

I still didn't know what she'd done, how she'd done it, or why.

I remember thinking to myself that I shouldn't be alive, much less conscious. All the air was gone. All around me were constant reminders of just where I was: the overpowering heartbeat, constant gurgling of a digestive system, and frequent, tiny muscular contractions interspersed with much larger ones as Jessica moved about. I measured time by Jessica's heartbeat-- perhaps four minutes to survive without air? -- but counted off at least six minutes and I'd yet to feel out of breath in the slightest; not even the urge to breathe.

Now what?

. . .

It's not as though I can see through Jessica's eyes. If I remain perfectly still in just the right spot, I gain a sense of Jessica's surroundings through her thoughts: I see her mental map of her environment, hear the sounds that she is paying attention to. Whatever she is focusing on at the moment comes through very clearly. Things she's seen recently are there. I can feel what she's thinking. And I can, without any sound, communicate with her: at least when she's paying attention to me.

I decided to pick one small part of her: her right hand, and move it, but it didn't work. It turns out that I have no control at all over her body: she can listen to me as a kind of inner voice, can share her thoughts with me to the point where I really understand what it's like to be her, but, ultimately, she's in charge, which I suppose only makes sense.

The moment I enter Jessica's thoughts, she's also in mine; I can feel her probe through my memories, my history, and take what she wants for herself. This didn't bother me; it was what I "saw" when we first established this connection.

She was sitting at her kitchen table, with my wallet spread out in front of her. My money was off to one side. She was wearing gloves. Her slender fingers slid my driver's license out of its slot. She looked at it, studying the picture, even smiling to herself. Then my credit cards, one at a time. Next thing she had all this plastic in her hands. I lost the connection as she got up and started walking: by the time I had it back, we were in the bedroom, where next to her desk she had a small shredder. She carefully slipped every one of those cards into the shredder, along with the stub of a train ticket I had in my pocket.

"What are you doing??" I tried to scream. Her thoughts were firm yet gentle. "It might be better if you don't watch this," she seemed to answer.

She removed the shredder bag, mixed the contents, and transferred half to a second plastic bag. Then she went to the building's laundry room. In the dryer were the sheets and pillowcases from her bed, plus all the clothes I'd worn over to her place. She took these back to her bedroom. My clothes went into another plastic bag, and then both shredder bags and the clothes went into a backpack, along with my empty wallet.

She went back to the kitchen, where she got a bottle of spray cleaner and a cloth, and she started through the apartment wiping down each and every hard surface that I'd touched, or might have touched, focused so intently on getting this just right that she couldn't hear me at all.

Jessica was erasing me from existence.

"I have to," she explained a short while later, while making her bed. "When they look for you, I can't take the chance that they find any evidence here. That would be bad for both of us."

I was in shock. Jessica went to her dresser, and put on a sports bra, top, and her jogging shorts, then socks and running shoes.

"This should be interesting," she said, stretching out and warming herself up a bit, then resetting her fitness tracker. Her phone tucked into the backpack, along with a water bottle.

During the run, I felt her body drawing on mine; consuming me to power herself. It gave her nearly limitless endurance. She ran for thirteen miles that morning, classic rock on the headphones interfering not the slightest in the conversation we had with each other. She felt, and understood, my sadness that nobody would ever know what happened to me; that I simply disappeared on this day and would never be seen again.

Along the run she dropped my clean, DNA-evidence-free clothes in a donation bin along the route, the micro-shredded contents of my wallet in two different dumpsters, and my old, worn-out wallet in a third. Just like that, I was gone. I hadn't told anyone that I was seeing Jessica, much less that I'd gone to her place either night.

My conversations then must have seemed stupid. "I had an ATM card, over eight thousand--"

It would end up in the abandoned property system along with anything else I'd owned. If Jessica had tried to collect the admittedly meager proceeds of my accounts, her picture would have been taken. It was just better to let it all go. I didn't know how I'd be able to deal with it.

Jessica herself vanished less than four days later. Her apartment had been a furnished rental; the rest of her possessions fit into just two large boxes. She had these sent ahead, leaving just one suitcase and carry-on for the flight across the country.

I never did find out how long, or even if, they searched for me. Nobody other than Jessica knew that I was on that flight too: hidden deep inside my girlfriend's body, just a few inches away from the cushion of her window seat. She sighed, and watched out the window as we jetted across the country to our new, remarkable existence. I can't wait to tell you about it.

[Gendor]

oooh greeet

[Groblek]

Ooh, fun! A great story and setup!

On to the questions:
Jessica clearly prepared for this, and seems to know exactly what she's doing. Can you sense any sign that she's done this before, or if you're her first?

Do you have any sense of what's going to happen to you in the end?

And one for both of you, if Jessica's willing to answer her side: What would you say the best and worst part of this is for you?

[dreamweevil]

Ooh, fun! A great story and setup!

Thanks!

Jessica clearly prepared for this, and seems to know exactly what she's doing. Can you sense any sign that she's done this before, or if you're her first?

I don't need to get a "sense": I can read her thoughts, so I know I'm the first. And, from what I can tell, the "only", the way the biology works out, but that answer gets a little bit more complicated. But she's not the first. She's got redacted, sorry older sisters and some number of girl cousins with the same power. But she only needs one guy to do what she's doing: this wlll make more sense shortly.

Do you have any sense of what's going to happen to you in the end?

Yes, sort of. Let me get back to you on that after I tell you what happened next; don't want to spoil it.

And one for both of you, if Jessica's willing to answer her side: What would you say the best and worst part of this is for you?

Cool, a question for me?
Can I answer too?
Quiet. You gotten a lot more time than I have. I can type faster when I'm not transcribing your words for you. Our thoughts are pretty much the same now, anyway.
But--
Sssh. Okay. Best part? That it worked at all. My mother taught me that I'd need confidence in what I was doing, but more importantly that it would only work if my "boyfriend" was so completely powerless at the time that he believed that my very words could have that effect.

Wait a minute. You mean this only worked because I thought it might?

I said, shush. Not entirely. The science is complicated. But it helped it work faster, and kept you alive and sane during the process. So back to the best part: Yes, that was it: telling him to "shrink" and actually seeing it happen. And the look on his eyes! I mean, I'd kept him in that completely submissive role for most of weekend, which was totally fun because I never explored my dominant side before. Learning that I could turn a big, strong man into a puddle of mush like that!

Hey!

Sorry. But you enjoyed it too, right, the loss of control?

Yeah, I guess.

You guess? I may have to take that out on you later. Anyway, that look when he realized that I wasn't only controlling his emotional, sexual experience but also had that level of control over his body! And I'll even admit that his fear was a bit of a turn-on: here's this part of me that's he's been hoping to get inside... but now he's afraid of it? I teased him quite a bit more than he let on in his accounting of the story: to be swallowed up inside a girl and only let out when I decide to? If ever? And the squirming as I actually started to push him inside. Oh-- (okay, I know you only asked for "one" best part)-- that first connection, the one I'd been promised would happen, of joining forces like that at last. Oh, and there's more. But I'll save it.

I've procrastinated long enough. The worst part was when I had to scrub the apartment. He understands why it was necessary: one nice thing about reading each others thoughts is that we don't have to construct complicated explanations for each other. While I take a little solace that he wasn't too close with his family, I can't escape the sadness that somewhere out there are parents who won't ever know what happened to their child. My hope is that this is the last generation to have to suffer through that.

Anyway, I've got more to tell you (No, I do!) (sigh) we have more to tell you, then we'll be back to answer some of those other questions as well as any new ones!

Jessica (and passenger)

[dreamweevil]

It's a gorgeous spring day. Jessica is wearing a new, flowing orange-and-white sundress, which is being illuminated by the brilliant sunshine.

I know this because I'm watching it from the inside. Freed for the moment from the confines of Jessica's birth canal, I'm riding pretty comfortably inside the white cotton panel of my girlfriend's panty hose, like it was a hammock.

Through the fabric I can see the grey cement of the sidewalk, the interior of Jessica's dress, the inside of her long legs, and the top of the sexy white platform sandals she's wearing.

Despite the fact that seeing things with my own eyes is a treat, and I can feel a bit of the cool air through this "breathable" panel, I wasn't so sure of this arrangement at first. As she walks it feels like she could crush me with her legs at any moment, even though I'm cushioned by her outer labia. The ground seems very hard and dangerously far away. I feel the moistness of her inner labia at my back, which doesn't bother me, as I just spent over a week inside that place. What worried me the most was that I'm visible; anyone who looked up here might see me.

But, as Jessica reminded me, she knew how to wear a dress and maintain her modesty. Anyone who tried to look "up here" without her permission would be spending the next eighteen months in jail.

I was outside for a few reasons, but the most important, for the moment, was that Jessica had a surprise for me and wanted to maintain that surprise for my sake. If I'd been inside her, I could sense her thoughts: I already knew she was meeting someone for an outdoor lunch at a cafe. I knew she was bringing her resume for what was an informal employment screening; but she was keeping the identity of the other person from me.

The fact that our mind-link, when established, is bidirectional, means she knows that I don't know who she's meeting with. She told me, using actual sound waves, that it would be a pleasant surprise.

We got to the cafe a bit early, and at the last minute Jessics decided to duck into the cafe's ladies room. Inside a stall, she lifted her dress and put her hand over her crotch-- and me. Plunging me into darkness, within thirty seconds she'd worked me up and in; between those inner labia and then up into her tunnel; all without removing her panty hose! She pulled the fabric free of herself, plunging me back into darkness, and a good squeeze of her vaginal muscles sealed me inside, deep near her cervix where I usually am.

I knew immediately why she'd done this. From this point I could communicate with her again, and now the surprise would be revealed.

By the time I got turned around and could make that connection again, Jessica was back outside, talking with the waitress and the woman she'd gone there to meet.

Amy.

My old high-school girlfriend. The very one who'd broken my heart, left me alone until... well, until Jessica.

I was almost instantly furious, at which point Jessica squeezed me, actually squeezed me hard, with her muscles.

"Stop," she told me. "Think. Play this right and it could be a dream come true. Your dream come true."

Jessica shook hands with Amy and the waitress led them to a tiny outdoor table-- by request, away from the other tables, out at the corner of the patio.

I didn't pay attention to the small talk between the two women. Amy asked about Jessica's trip and jet lag and complimented her dress and... I tuned it out. Why Amy? Why is this a good thing? Why keep it a surprise? Jessica had probed my thoughts, knew exactly what had happened between Amy and I-- of all of the people in an entire country, why do either of us need to see her?

I remember the day I broke up with Amy with the kind of crystalline clarity reserved for major life events. It was the anniversary of our first date; and largely by keeping that fact secret for the entire time, we'd manage to finagle a situation where we'd be completely alone, unchaperoned, for a guaranteed three hours. It was to be our "first time". We'd fooled around, gotten to "third base", and by the time we were ready to become sexually active at last it was within just six weeks of that anniversary, so we decided to try to celebrate it that way.

Of course I was nervous. I was as ready as I could be; and when the time came we both procrastinated: talked and snuggled and repeated a lot of the things we'd done before; with the goal of going just that little bit further.

I was standing there, at the foot of Amy's bed in her pink bedroom, naked, Amy naked on the bed, when she decided she couldn't bring herself to go through with it. That seeing me naked like that, the prospect of actually having sex with me had finally convinced her of something she'd suspected for a while, but had never been honest about, with me or herself or anyone else. I had a lump in my throat as I got dressed. I cried myself to sleep that night.

I'm sure anybody reading this will have figured out by now that Amy is a lesbian. I'd spent a year of my life being the perfect boyfriend, forgoing all other girls on campus, to help her figure that out. She didn't like the fact that my body had hair, that I didn't have breasts, that I was big and dangerous instead of cute and curvy like her. Apparently, seeing actual testicles was the final turn-off. She actually told me these things as she tried, in vain, to ease my suffering. Amy came out to the world the next day and was received with welcoming arms by most; her parents were supportive; other students congratulatory. In a way I guess I was happy for her but... I could never forgive her, even if I didn't say that.

Reluctantly I tuned back into the outside world. Jessica had just handed Amy her resume, and Amy was looking it over with some incredulity, shaking her head. "My company's only been hoping for someone to work on this," Amy said. "You know, a ten-year research project. Not someone who's already done it. They'll still schedule an interview; but I'll tell you right now that you're getting this job, if you want it."

They'd already had their lunch, paid the check. "So... what else?" Amy asked. "You said you had other news."

Jessica stood up. Even when connected, I still feel the inertia when she gets up like that. "Come on, let's walk."

They weren't too far from the cafe, but far enough from any eavesdroppers, when Jessica answered that question. "You know Dean?"

"Of course," Amy answered. I thought I perceived a touch of sadness.

"He's inside me right now," Jessica answered, whispering. "I did it."

Amy grabbed Jessica by the shoulders. "What?? Are you kidding? Oh my god!"

"It worked," Jessica answered. "Exactly like I said it would."

I was going crazy, 'screaming'. "Are you crazy? You're telling her? She knows who I am, I'm sure she knows I vanished, after all you did to erase-- Why?!?"

"Wait," Jessica said, calmly: no crushing vaginal squeeze this time. "Watch."

The two women kept walking; Jessica suddenly smug, Amy more like a moth batting at Jessica's shoulder. "Can I ...see... him?"

"Ummm... You do know where he is, right? I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

"Sure," Amy answered, a little too enthusiastically.

Jessica's smile was ear-to-ear; partially from Amy's excitement, but mostly from mine, because i'd finally gotten Jessica's plan, her grand surprise, through my thick skull.

Even then, I was a bit slow on the uptake. "But... you're not a lesbian, Jessica."

"I don't have to be," she answered silently. "Because I've got you."

. . .

This is the hardest thing I think I've done in... well, perhaps, ever. Squirming my way through Jessica's insides, towards the cold, unforgiving outside, at Jessica's insistence, all so another woman-- one I still wasn't too sure about-- could see my slimy, naked, tiny body as proof of Jessica's achievement. Jessica could push me out if she wanted, but was letting me do this on her own, overriding the normal reflex of those outer vaginal muscles to slam her canal shut when she's touched there.

Jessica was sitting on the edge of her bed, sundress bunched up around her abdomen, holding the front elastic of her panty hose open; Amy was watching that space with relative impatience, still not sure Jessica wasn't making the entire thing up.

"Here he comes," she said. "He's almost out."

I started pushing Jessica's inner lips open. I didn't hurry; I still wasn't sure I wanted Amy or anyone else to see me this way.

But, next thing I knew, Amy was staring down at me, big green eyes agape. "Oh my gosh! It did work! How... are you?"

"He can hear you, but not answer," Jessica said calmly smiling. "Vocal cords a half of a millimeter long and so on."

"But you can hear him?"

"I can hear his thoughts, when he's touching me in the right place."

"So... you're okay?" Amy said. I nodded, and apparently she could see that. I pulled my arms free of Jessica's sex organ to push myself out the rest of the way. But it started to get more difficult to slide through Jessica's body.

Getting permission from Jessica to touch me, Amy reached for me with long fingers. I decided to ignore her and get myself out of Jessica's body, but Jessica's vagina had gotten definitively sticky; like her secretions were turning to glue or something. I started to panic. I pushed against Jessica's labia and they closed up around my waist, sealing around me. It made no sense: I tried to get my fingers between her lips and my skin and I couldn't.

Amy's fingers touched me on my back. "He's so tiny!"

Something was happening inside Jessica. "Keep that up and he won't be."

"Really? Is this the right place?"

"Usually not, but..." Jessica took Amy's fingers, and guided them to stroke my body. "Yes! We're connected inside! I can feel your touch!"

I felt really, really warm all of a sudden. Jessica was growing tight around me. And shrinking. No, not shrinking. I was... growing?"

"Talk about 'fully functional'," Amy said.

"Sorry-- I can control his size up to a point, but this seems pretty involuntary," Jessica said. I looked up, and from beneath saw the two women kiss; Jessica dropped the skirt of her sundress that she'd been holding all this time; it fell right on me, covering me up.

"Get out of that thing," Amy called, reaching around Jessica for the zipper.

"Hey," Jessica objected. "There was something about 'show me yours', right?"

Amy was practically out of breath. "Oh, my lord, you're right. Here--" she turned around so Jessica could unsnap her blouse.

While this was going on, Jessica shared a very clear thought with me. "So... any further objections?"

"This is amazing," I answered.

"I hoped you'd like it. Happy birthday!"

I had no idea it was my birthday.

. . .

My lord. I'm in Amy's bedroom. More grownup than the one I remembered, of course-- but some of it... some things were the same, things brought from her childhood. Jessica, standing pretty much where I was when Amy gave me that dreadful look and fateful news.

"He can hear me?" Amy asks. She wasn't curled up on the bed like she was that day in our junior year; she's sitting up on the edge, naked, definitely grown up.

I'm stuck just about exactly halfway inside Jessica's sex-- sticking out from it like... like...

"Tell him I'm sorry..."

"I said he can hear you."

Jessica relayed my answer through her mouth. "He said he never blamed you. Maybe a little, but it was childhood frustration."

I have to hand it to Jessica. Of course she knew my dreams. How I wished, that night, that God would simply have reached down right then and turn me into a girl so I could have the girl I thought I loved.

Jessica looked into Amy's eyes, reached out, ran her fingers through Amy's hair. "He said that night, years ago, he wished he was a girl."

No, Jessica, I didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Sorry, but I think she would have found out sooner or later," Jessica answered privately back to me. I felt her squeeze her vaginal muscles around my legs; when she did that, I'd grow a bit.

"Well, now you're a girl." Amy reached her hand out and caressed me. "Maybe even better. The best of both worlds. We can pick up exactly where we left off."

Immediately, Jessica knew where that was.

Amy looked up into Jessica with her huge eyes. "Just one thing... he can't make me... pregnant, right?"

"No," Jessica answered. "Not this way."

Amy bounced backward onto her bed. "Then let's do this."

Jessica followed. She explored Amy's body exactly that way I would have-- not as a gangly teenager, but with a little more sophistication and care. Yes, just like that. Of course 'like that'. I'm following your guidance!

I touched Amy's body. She was warm; better than I remembered. I felt Jessica's nipples touch Amy's; they're just about the same distance apart. It was weird, electric.

Amy's legs scooted out from underneath us. She spread them apart, pulled them up; couldn't wait any longer. Jessica herself seemed a bit lost; she read my thoughts to follow what to do next. Amy's just given us our position: missionary, nothing wrong with that, and signalled that-- unlike all those years ago-- she was ready.

Oh my god.

Just like that the duality is broken, leaving Jessica to figure this out on her own, and I'm hanging down between Jessica's legs as she engages tongues with Amy. I exist in the shadows between two women's bodies; between Jessica's thighs as well as Amy's. I see Amy's organ up close for the first time. Unlike Jessica, Amy is shaved down here; she wasn't back in high school. I suddenly realize I have no control over what's going on; Amy's legs stretched wide, her opening gaping just below. Jessica moves her hips and I bump against Amy's mons and grow a bit.

Suddenly I panic. These two women are going to crush me when they do this. My body is involuntarily sending her the feedback she needs to proceed: she can sense just where on Amy's body I am, and knows that further down it's warm, moist, more inviting. As soon as I think those thoughts Jessica moves again, lowering me between Amy's legs. Still too high. Jessica pushes and it hurts all of us. Amy reaches down with a hand and grabs me: my entire self, and starts guiding me. Jessica backs up, releases her muscles so that I'm aimed deeper between Amy's legs. She pushing my head against Amy, who's now very wet, and starts probing, slowly, until we find the entrance to Amy's vagina. At the same time, I'm very afraid yet want this more than anything, which is why Jessica does too.

Jessica pushed, and Amy opened up and let me in, and with a series of small gyrations, Jessica completely vanishes me into Amy's sex. I feel myself grow, filling Amy up, accommodating myself to her shape. I can hear Amy cry out in pleasure.

I know Jessica well enough to sense that her orgasm is already very, very close. But then I feel that Amy's is, too. There's still some mobility in my knees: I use it to find Jessica's G-spot, while at the same time finding Amy's with my arms. I want them to come at the same time. I can feel that Amy is very close, too-- her desire so strong, wanting Jessica (and me) inside, filling her, making her complete--

Except I shouldn't have known that. With great effort I tear myself away from the near-orgasmic excitement and look into Jessica's eyes. I'm seeing what Amy sees, feeling her emotions--

The instant I realize what's happening, my body becomes a giant short-circuit. I'm connected to Jessica's thoughts, and now Amy's, which means that the two women are now connected to each other, through me. They freeze, holding absolutely still, and Jessica lifts herself up to see Amy's eyes and back into her own and the three of us are aware that something has happened beyond what we expected. Thought and emotion flows through me like a torrent; too much for me to handle as they start exploring each other's memories; I can only catch a small sample of it.

Then the orgasm comes.

What have I done?

Just like that: Jessica and Amy are one, desperately in love with each other and delightfully inseparable. None of us expected this; it was going to be a harmless hook-up with an old girlfriend, a birthday present for the tiny man in a very happy place.

The orgasm, almost an afterthought, played on for minutes; something none of us had ever felt, something none of us ever wanted to end. When it was over, Jessica's grip around my legs loosened. There was still no air gap between the two; everything below my waist in Jessica's body and everything above in Amy's. I thought Jessica was going to summon me back into her body but instead she squirted me out and injected me into Amy's vagina without a word; I turned around to see Jessica's privates in shadow as Amy's closed up around me.

They never even had to say "I love you"; not out loud.

Until then, I had no idea that Jessica was a friend of Amy's, or that they'd been friends for so long. Suddenly so much made sense. Their friendship started just around the time that Amy and I broke up. Amy, exploring her newly discovered interests, found out the hard way that Jessica was straight. In talking that out, Amy had revealed to Jessica what happened with me.

Armed with this new power of hers, Jessica had found a way to fix all three problems at once. It was brilliant.

[Groblek]

Aww, that's lovely! But then, I've always been a romantic at heart. I do hope this relationship works out well for all involved over the long term.

Thank you both for the earlier answers! This brings up several more questions, but the only one I'll toss out right now is that Jessica, I'd be interested in your perspective on that first time with Amy, if you're willing to share. I'd be even more interested in hearing *Amy's* take if she's around, since it must have been quite a surprise to her, if a very pleasant one, it would seem.

[dreamweevil]

Aww, that's lovely! But then, I've always been a romantic at heart. I do hope this relationship works out well for all involved over the long term.

Thank you both for the earlier answers! This brings up several more questions, but the only one I'll toss out right now is that Jessica, I'd be interested in your perspective on that first time with Amy, if you're willing to share. I'd be even more interested in hearing *Amy's* take if she's around, since it must have been quite a surprise to her, if a very pleasant one, it would seem.

Jessica: I hope this works out too! I'll bring Amy in on this in a bit: she's out at the grocery store at the moment with our shared "boyfriend" inside her, so I'm alone for the moment. (I'll catch them up when they get back).

Before we were partners, Amy and I really were good friends, and that friendship started earlier than Dean "knew" when he wrote about it. Since I was doing my best to keep the meeting with Amy a surprise, I had to do my best to keep her out of my mind pretty much completely as long as he was inside me and in contact.

What happened back then was as much a shock to me as it was to him. Since I was already close to Amy, I was there to console her through this breakup, and then the revelations that followed. What I didn't catch on to, quite early enough, is that she'd had something of a girl-crush on me for years; in fact, I was pretty clueless about it.

I think that Amy took my friendship and sympathy for something more. I'd never considered getting involved that way with another girl. I think if Amy had been a little gentler on her approach, and if I didn't have a boyfriend at the time, I'd have experimented with her, at least.

(The boyfriend turned out to be a jerk and that relationship didn't go anywhere; it was no big loss. But there was one point where I had come across the idea to do to him what I did to Dean; but it was too early, I wasn't ready, and for many reasons he wasn't the right guy for it and Dean was.)

Anyway, Amy was there for me through all that. I made her a promise, before she moved away, that we'd stay friends, and that if I ever changed my mind about the whole being-with-a-girl thing she'd be the first one I'd call; and I meant that seriously.

I did one other thing to prove that loyalty: I told her my secret. That when the time was right, I could take someone completely inside me and make them mine. I hadn't decided who it would be. (Despite her affection for me, Amy did not volunteer for that trip). We had to swear never to mention it on the net or even a phone, but that someday I'd see her again and if I did it I'd tell her all about it.

Frankly, I wasn't at all sure how our sexual encounter would go; or if there would be a second. I knew Amy would be all for it. But the idea... touching another girl's parts? When I was younger-- perhaps 11 to 14-- I dreamed about having a nice strong boyfriend next to me, caring for me, his "thing" inside me and filling me up whenever I wanted it; of someday getting pregnant and making babies. But now, with the deed done and my boyfriend already filling that space inside me... well, there was nothing to lose. As he pointed out already, it made a pretty easy win-win-win situation. (A fourth "win", if you include that Amy's company needed someone with exactly my skills.)

I just had to let Dean run the show initially, on that first encounter. I listened to everything his thoughts suggested; so essentially he was making love to her and I was just watching, passively. And I found myself getting into it. "Another girl's parts" weren't icky; they were amazing, which just made me appreciate my own body that much more. That first time ignited a passion that burns to this day.

To feel her thoughts course through me? There was no turning back after that. Connected, Amy could no longer hide how she felt about me, and how long she'd felt that way. And then we just couldn't get enough of each other. Connected, spooned as we slept, she learned the bigger picture, the one I've still yet to tell you about.

Dean, by the way, now knows answer to a question you asked earlier. He knows that he won't be here, at least like this, forever. From that first time he entered my body, my body started consuming his. But it's a very, very slow process: one even he didn't notice. See, the shrinking effect is temporary: it has to be, due to reasons of physics, conservation of matter, and all. But his return to "normal size" is happening at the same rate that our bodies are consuming his; so he stays, within a percentage point or two, the same.

The fact that he shares time with both of us means the absorption is happening faster than it would otherwise. I get what I need from him; Amy gets what she needs. Both of us can "feel" his actual weight when he's inside-- sort of a sixth-sense kind of thing. I went on that long run right after I swallowed him to help get rid of some of that, make it more comfortable for myself.

He knows this now, so I'm not spoiling anything: as his size ratio trends towards 1:1, his body will get progressively simpler. He didn't notice for quite a while that he'd already lost his hair-- otherwise those headfirst vaginal plunges would have hurt, I'd bet. Everything he doesn't need: lungs, digestive system, fingernails, toenails, eventually even arms and legs: all will fade away until what's left is exactly what we need, and nothing more.

Even now, we have to keep any outside excursions-- like at the beginning of part 2-- short, because it's getting harder for him to breathe; to stay comfortable he has to absorb oxygen directly from one of us. (Since we're still catching up on history, it wasn't an issue in those first few months; in fact, he's yet to recount his feelings when he found out that he'd never be "back to normal".)

Don't feel bad for him, though. He's fulfulling his destiny. Ultimately, his consciousness will be completely absorbed into Amy and I; as well as

Hang on a moment.

Oh, Amy (and Dean) are back. Amy thinks I'm getting way ahead of things here. Well, then why don't--

Amy: Hi. Wow, Jessica, you wrote a lot. I thought this was supposed to be Dean's story?

Jessica: I was just answering a few questions.

Amy: And... Groblek wants to know how I felt that first encounter too? Geez, that's an easy one. Dream come true. I used to lust after Jessica well before she knew it-- heck, before I knew it. Schoolgirl crush. We'd hang out all the time. I had no idea what those feelings meant until I grew up. That little bow in her hair, bouncing like it did on the way to class? Wasn't until way too late that I realized that these were sexual feelings I was having, that they were okay, perfectly normal in some subset of any given population. And, well, I won't bore you with what you already know, but when she said she was coming to visit I just knew it was good news, and it was.

Since then we've done every kinky thing we can think of. Don't believe Jessica completely on the "discreetness", by the way: I think it's a lot of fun to make the boys jealous. Even the one I've got inside me right now. Speaking of which: Jessica, would you like him back for a while? Or perhaps we could share? You could sit in my lap. We could write the next entry together, all three of us.

Jessica: That sounds like a plan.

[bigmacrmuk]

Hello, Miss Jessica. Hello also to Dean and to Amy.

Thank you for the accounts you have thus far written, they are very...illuminating.

I have two questions, directed largely at Miss Jessica. Though I rather suspect you've heard them before, so kindly forgive me if I make your collective eyes roll at this one.

I've been rolling over questions of ethics in my mind recently (must be that scientist background) and even though Dean insists that he neither wants nor needs to be rescued and (at least seemingly) is content with what is going to happen to him, for my first question I have to ask: Does the idea of consuming another human - even with their implicit or explicit consent, not to mention the initial fear Dean certainly seemed to feel - not give you a moments pause? To make them a missing person, to erase them from existence, to leave no trace that they were ever there apart from grieving friends and relatives who would have no closure? I'm sure there's a justification in there, but...I'd like to understand it.

Which also rather neatly leads into my second question. You mention sadness at doing the above, but you also mention that you hope this is the 'last generation to have to suffer through that'. I know you may have to be coy about this, but that, as well as some of the things that Dean was made to leave out of his conversation bespeaks a greater plan. You might understand this is a little worrying...are there any reassurances you can offer on that score?

All the best to all of you, and thanks again.

[Groblek]

Thanks for continuing to answer, Jessica! And you as well, Amy, nice to meet you! I'll admit, at the moment I have more questions for the two of you than I do for Dean, but that's mostly because I suspect many of the ones I'm inclined to ask him are things that will be answered if I just let y'all tell more of his story. That said, there are a couple more I can't resist throwing out.

First, one for Jessica. You commented that Amy emphatically didn't volunteer to take the trip inside you back when you first revealed your secret to her. That brings up the question of whether she could have, had you both been inclined? Which is to say, can a woman be a "junior partner" in a relationship like you & Dean have, or is that role restricted to males?

And for Dean. What is the part of all this you like the most? Clearly, you're content with your lot and eventual fate, but I'm curious just what stands out for you. And also, what are the differences you particularly notice between being carried around by Jessica and by Amy?

[dreamweevil]

Hello, Miss Jessica. Hello also to Dean and to Amy.

Thank you for the accounts you have thus far written, they are very...illuminating.

Jessica: Thanks!

I have two questions, directed largely at Miss Jessica. Though I rather suspect you've heard them before, so kindly forgive me if I make your collective eyes roll at this one.

I've been rolling over questions of ethics in my mind recently (must be that scientist background) and even though Dean insists that he neither wants nor needs to be rescued and (at least seemingly) is content with what is going to happen to him, for my first question I have to ask: Does the idea of consuming another human - even with their implicit or explicit consent, not to mention the initial fear Dean certainly seemed to feel - not give you a moments pause? To make them a missing person, to erase them from existence, to leave no trace that they were ever there apart from grieving friends and relatives who would have no closure? I'm sure there's a justification in there, but...I'd like to understand it.

Well, I think you're on the right track. I've argued with myself over how much to say, as I don't want to spoil Dean's story. But I think I can spoil the story without spoiling it. Your question is a good and fair and it deserves a real answer.

Before I start, I'd like to say that Dean been incredibly kind to me in his writing so far. I told him I'd transcribe his words however he gave them, within those ground rules he mentioned, and I've kept my word. From his account, life is pretty much a paradise of endless, carefree, incredibly intimate sex with two attractive women. Now that is the experience I wanted him to have, yet Amy and I know that it can't always be as pleasant as he's portrayed it so far.

He does not know everything that I know. He may believe that he does; that's a bit of an illusion I maintain for his sake. He doesn't, and won't, know that I'm writing this; he's asleep inside me at this very minute. But even if I wanted to share everything? It's impossible. His brain, like the rest of his body, is slowly vanishing, but he won't notice; his consciousness will live on inside Amy and I. At some point, "his" words will actually come from me-- but even I won't know that. His mind could not possibly store all of what I know.

Because I know where I came from. I have my mother's memories, and many of her mother's before her. And small, carefully edited, snippets from my great-grandmother's history.

Let me take you back to that time. In my great-grandparent's day, the world was a very scary place. The common wisdom was that the Third World War, which was to be the genetics war, was around the corner. You know, the scary, engineered viruses that each superpower theoretically had, Mutually Assured Destruction and all.

My great-grandmother, and an amazing group of similarly minded (and might I say brilliant) scientists and engineers, decided to do something about it. They couldn't defend all humanity from a weapon they had no details of, but they could protect their own children. And with that, give humanity hope-- a last resort, just in case it all went wrong.

They invented the ultimate solution: one I carry with me. Cryptographically Secured DNA. They had the brilliant idea to take decades of advancement in computer security and apply it to something even more precious: their own eggs. They sequenced their own DNA-- across as broad a spectrum of the human genome as they could get, and modified their own eggs with the result: Optimized, cryptographically signed, with advanced error correction and many more layers of redundancy.

As a result of that amazing effort way back then, I can't catch the flu. Or the common cold. Or get cancer. Or suffer from any of the daily assaults that are trying to change my DNA.

But there was a problem. With protected DNA, their children wouldn't be able to reproduce. We needed to maintain genetic diversity, but the scheme didn't map very well to men. I only have to deal with one egg per month, but a man produces a million sperm each day, each different, which was too fast for the signing algorithm; not to mention that male mitochondrial DNA (which would have to be protected too) don't survive fertilization.

They were running out of time. They needed to get out of the lab and start bearing these children. So they took another page from the software engineering book and compromised. They cut the scope of their project, only protecting their daughters, but gave them the ability to upgrade themselves. Each successive generation could improve upon the previous. They could alter their own children's "code" without the huge, expensive (and now highly illegal) sequencing and gene-editing technology. These women could perform genetic editing within their own bodies. That necessitated the development of a different kind of neural pathway, a connection between the brain and reproductive system, which is how Dean and I can share our thoughts while he's inside me. That system also allows me to pass my own knowledge onto my children; otherwise they'd need to spend a lifetime learning what I know. (Actually, I think I could have spent a lifetime in classrooms-- if that type of education were still legal-- and not have the level of understanding that my mother gave me, in an instant.)

But back to reproduction. It was an intractable problem. To have children, we needed something that only men had, yet they couldn't reproduce with us in the normal way.

Now, my "memory" of that far ago is, understandably, vague; and I know it's been selectively edited by my grandmother for my own protection. But certain moments are very clear. If the ability to reproduce was essential, and someone had something we needed to make that life possible, then you just take what you need from whoever already has it. The example I remember them using was the mosquito. Barred from having its own children due to a lack of some simple, key ingredients, the mosquito involved an elaborate system to steal what it needed from another creature.

In short, we could involve men in the reproduction process even though they weren't genetically involved. I understand that was brutal during my great-grandmother's day, but by the next generation, my grandmother's, they had gained the ability to induce some men to warp their own spacetime around them, and thus live inside their partner much like a male anglerfish.

How in the world do you convince a man to give up everything to, someday, help you have children with another woman? You find one predisposed to it in the first place. Another snapshot memory from long ago: My grandmother, being shown by one of her friends an ad for a dominatrix. Men would actually pay to be bossed around by a woman so long as there was some sexual component to it? Not all men, of course. But some have that submissive streak. Why only some? It didn't take long for a group of women with two and three generations of biological knowhow to find the answer. These men, who could be turned on by the thought of sacrificing themselves to a woman, had a distinct genetic marker for it. A weakness. That we could split open with a steel wedge and a sledgehammer in order to get what we needed.

Amy was my best friend. She had a "boyfriend" who stayed faithful to a lesbian for a entire year while she figured that out about herself. A boyfriend who cried himself to sleep, who was lonely and miserable. He was an easy, obvious target that, once I was ready, I could snatch up between my legs and present back to Amy as a gift. And so here we are.

From my estimates, there are more than a thousand women out there like me by now. Amy and I are set to add to that total. But I'll let Dean tell you that part of the story.

Which also rather neatly leads into my second question. You mention sadness at doing the above, but you also mention that you hope this is the 'last generation to have to suffer through that'. I know you may have to be coy about this, but that, as well as some of the things that Dean was made to leave out of his conversation bespeaks a greater plan. You might understand this is a little worrying...are there any reassurances you can offer on that score?

All the best to all of you, and thanks again.

Well, now I've "spoiled" that greater plan for you, haven't I? But to answer your second question: Do you have to worry? Probably not. We are not out to create a super-race of invulnerable women. My great-grandmother's generation knew that would be a mistake: if this were to come to that, then the rest of you would be seeking to wipe us out. We just want to give humanity that one extra chance to survive. You can, and most likely will, live out a normal, and hopefully happy life, and we know now that the fears of genetic armageddon were overblown. If you're so inclined and happen to encounter a woman who'd like you to do what Dean did for Amy and I? Well, that'll be up to you. But you'd better act quickly. Remember how I said that each generation improves upon the previous? I think I've solved the final problem, worked out the last bit of math. I need a man to reproduce. But my children won't. Which means no more mysterious disappearances, no more grieving families (at least because of us.) It also may make Dean one of the luckiest men in history, if you can believe that.

[bigmacrmuk]

Thank you for your extensive and candid answer, Miss Jessica. It is greatly appreciated.

I must confess that it still makes me a little uneasy that you and yours took this power upon yourselves, and that it results in the identities of people being consumed in the way that it does, judged and controlled by nothing but the moral code you apply.

However, I can most definitely understand the concept of the greater good, and having had access to some of the records regarding the dark time you speak of I can't really argue at all that the measures taken were not necessary in order to protect humanity from itself (even though such fears in the end did eventually turn out to be groundless). And if what you intend to do is accurate, such consumption shall soon no longer be required, is that right?

I look forward to hearing more from yourself, Amy and Dean. And should I in the future actually meet one of the ladies that share the same...special qualities you do, I will certainly be interested in conversation and understanding...but I think I will be careful!

[dreamweevil]

Thanks for continuing to answer, Jessica! And you as well, Amy, nice to meet you! I'll admit, at the moment I have more questions for the two of you than I do for Dean, but that's mostly because I suspect many of the ones I'm inclined to ask him are things that will be answered if I just let y'all tell more of his story. That said, there are a couple more I can't resist throwing out.

First, one for Jessica. You commented that Amy emphatically didn't volunteer to take the trip inside you back when you first revealed your secret to her. That brings up the question of whether she could have, had you both been inclined? Which is to say, can a woman be a "junior partner" in a relationship like you & Dean have, or is that role restricted to males?

Jessica: That's a good one that I hadn't really thought of before. Yes, I told Amy about my power, and teasingly threatened her with it: I knew she was sexually interested in me and just wanted to see her reaction. But she's too strong of a woman: she doesn't have that submissive, self-sacrificing streak that I'd need to take control of her and command her body to shrink like Dean's did.

But would this have worked with some other woman? One that would let me dominate her? I'm not sure. My intuition is that I could shrink her down and put her inside me, just like Dean, communicate with her like I do with Dean and Amy, and even absorb her over time. But she wouldn't be able to help me conceive children; I need Dean's touch for that; that one, little missing piece of the puzzle that's eluded us for three generations (until now).

I don't think there are many women who would tolerate what he's going through, much less enjoy it like Dean does.

And for Dean. What is the part of all this you like the most? Clearly, you're content with your lot and eventual fate, but I'm curious just what stands out for you. And also, what are the differences you particularly notice between being carried around by Jessica and by Amy?

Dean: First of all, I'd like to let you know that Jessica changed her mind and did end up sharing what she wrote just a few minutes ago, after I woke. It wasn't as much of a surprise to me as she thought. I know she knows more than I do, and I didn't need three generations of inherited knowledge to figure that out: She was able to shrink me and keep me alive through the process! I couldn't understand how she did it-- not at the level at she does-- if I tried. But you know what? It means that we still have things to learn from each other; still have some surprises to share, new experiences together.

Okay. Amy and Jessica. That's a fun one. These are two women who are, from the outside, pretty similar: perhaps that's what drew me to Jessica in the first place. They're the same size, to the point where wear each other's clothes, even share underwear (why not?). But inside? Night and day.

Now, I've touched Amy's body before. Back in high school. She had me put my hand inside her panties, and there I touched a girl's parts for the very first time. It was amazing, everything I'd imagined, warm and wet and slippery and girly. And she loved my touch. I was in heaven; absolutely sure that this was leading to bigger things. Her scent on my fingers: I'd never forget it.

Fast forward. I'm hanging from Jessica's crotch, and she's pointing me at Amy's, getting ready to put me inside. That scent again! Unchanged, never forgotten. She finds the opening and begins to push. It was exactly as I remembered it. Same touch, same feel. Okay, it was over my entire body instead of just my finger, but unmistakably Amy's body. Only now I got to experience it "for real". (I still kind of wish we'd gotten to make love the normal way.)

The difference between the two is night and day. I could wake up inside either one and instantly know who I'm inside. Amy is more acidic. The deep part of her vagina, where she usually holds me, is smaller. Her cervix is normally much smaller. The outer part of her vagina is a bit smoother, and her clenching reflex-- the tightening that happens if I try to escape her body without her permission-- is actually a bit stronger and faster than Jessica's.

Jessica's space is a little roomier by comparison. Inside, everything is a little larger. Her scent is softer the and acidity is more gentle. Her passage has more complexity, more lumps and folds. Her G-spot is more obvious. Her vagina a little deeper than Amy's. Her secretions tend to be a little stickier, and she's a little more forgiving if I decide I'd like to push towards the outside a bit.

It's amazing how different women are on the inside!

Another difference: Amy is a lesbian. Really. She does like to have me inside her, but I can tell she doesn't like to feel me there, not continuously like Jessica does. Most of the time I stay deeper inside her, curled up in that smaller space, so my physical presence doesn't distract her. Emotionally, she's completely open with me. She used to have a little more of that men-are-evil streak, but Jessica has been able to moderate that.

Jessica (and Amy, for that matter) think that I've sugar-coated my tale a bit too much. So at risk of offending any delicate sensibilities, I'll tell you another difference. But I'll also mark it so you can skip it if less-pleasant details of the female anatomy might offend you. I promise you won't miss anything critical to the rest of our story.

Spoiler: show

Living inside woman's body means that you're necessarily there for all of her bodily functions. When she pees, or poops, you can feel it happening. You can even tell when she's going to have to go to the bathroom soon. But nothing compares to the quintessentially female experience of the menstrual period. My first exposure to that came early, on that cross-country flight. I had no idea that the change in air pressure could be one of those things to bring a woman's period on a little early, but it can, and it did. Jessica fell asleep on the flight, and as we disconnected I noticed this metallic taste around me. I panicked. I thought I'd injured her somehow. But finally I checked her cervix and found it slightly dilated, with this stuff-- blood and more-- oozing through it, slowly but continuously.

I didn't want to wake her up. But as the minutes passed the stuff was pooling up around me. If she stood up, I knew she was going to soil herself, which would be a big problem on an airplane. So I did the only thing I could think of, which was to get the largest part of myself-- my chest-- tightly fitted into the narrowest part of her vagina. Like a cork. At last, when she woke, I told her what was happening. She had me stay put. We got to her hotel, she checked in, and we made it to the bathroom with perfectly clean panties. All she had to do was sit on the toilet, and then I could make a channel with my arms and legs for those fluids to exit her body.

I guess I did so well that it became one of my responsibilities. Do I look forward to it? Not really. I look forward to serving them however they need me, but with two women to care for, each on a 28-day cycle, I'm dealing with this for four to six days every other week. And here too, my two partners are as different from each other as I could imagine.

Jessica's cycle is gentle. She doesn't get moody, it doesn't bother her when it happens. she gets a little dry after it's over, which is one of those other reasons I was riding in her panties before she met Amy. But if her period is like ocean waves on a warm summer day, Amy's is like a tornado. It hits quickly, with anger and energy, very little warning, and fierce intensity. And every other month it's just huge. And Amy herself gets... intense, demanding, even, dare I say it, bitchy. She demands that I'm in place a good 48 hours before it starts. Twice so far, she's hold me up to her face for a close inspection, then gleefully announced out loud: "Well, time for tampon duty!" before plunging me into her nether regions. And, after it inevitably starts, heaven forbid if I interrupt her work day more than twice for a bathroom break, or if I allow the slightest leak.

But, you know something? After all they're doing for me, I suppose this is okay. Once Amy's cycle gets underway, she's back to her normal, lovable self pretty quickly. It's not harming me, the female body is remarkably self-cleansing, and when it's over they usually give me a bath-- in a sink, with soap, to get their blood off of me. Then it's back to nice clean fun for a while.

The closest I ever saw Amy and Jessica come to a fight was when their periods finally started to overlap, and Amy insisted on having me forty-eight hours early even though Jessica wasn't quite done with me yet. Amy won that battle handily, relegating Jessica to the feminine-hygiene aisle for the first time in almost two years.

I asked Jessica why neither her mother, grandmother, nor great grandmother thought to throw a simple genetic switch such that this woman with the world's most advanced reproductive system ovulate voluntarily, forgo the hassle of menstruation entirely. Jessica told me that this rhythm, while inconvenient, had been part of the female experience for over ten thousand years, and they were simply afraid to tamper with it. I'll have to take Jessica's word that it's all for the best.

Okay, I better get back to the story now! Good luck out there, folks.
Dean

[dreamweevil]

Thank you for your extensive and candid answer, Miss Jessica. It is greatly appreciated.

I must confess that it still makes me a little uneasy that you and yours took this power upon yourselves, and that it results in the identities of people being consumed in the way that it does, judged and controlled by nothing but the moral code you apply.

However, I can most definitely understand the concept of the greater good, and having had access to some of the records regarding the dark time you speak of I can't really argue at all that the measures taken were not necessary in order to protect humanity from itself (even though such fears in the end did eventually turn out to be groundless). And if what you intend to do is accurate, such consumption shall soon no longer be required, is that right?

I look forward to hearing more from yourself, Amy and Dean. And should I in the future actually meet one of the ladies that share the same...special qualities you do, I will certainly be interested in conversation and understanding...but I think I will be careful!

Jessica:

Dear Mr. Bigmacruk:

Good strategy!

As usual, I'm torn about just how much to say, but I appreciate the questions (of course, otherwise I wouldn't be here!). One goal of mine is to help demystify "my kind" a bit, in a controlled forum, well before this news makes it out to the general population. Which means, compared to the average person out there right now, you are becoming an "expert" in just who we are. You'll be able to, I hope, help defuse any myths about what's going on.

I have had, really, nothing to do with the decision that my ancestors made, other than agreeing to continue the practice. I know you understand that: I'm the product of that genetic engineering far more than the cause of it. But I sense a couple of misconceptions. My great-grandmothers' peers didn't create one line like myself: they created -- I don't know the exact number, but it's dozens. They didn't create one embryo and all of us descended from that: each woman in the group modified her own eggs by running them through the algorithm they mutually invented. I vaguely remember long meetings, which the outside world must have thought just dry academics about peer reviewing something or other, where these people actually voted on each proposed change. But these customizations were applied to each woman's eggs individually. Thus we exist not as true "sisters" but as a very diverse group, every shape, size, color. Remember, they wanted to preserve as much genetic diversity as they could because they were defending us from extinction.

Second: Well, we're not out of the woods entirely on the extinction front. I hope it never happens, but if a killer virus or something does ever emerge, then my daughters and I will be there to carry out your legacy, preserve your art, your history, your scientific knowledge. Hopefully we don't have to.

Third: Mine was not the only group to try something like this. Remember, it was the golden age of GE: they had CRISPR, and ATEX, and GENESPIN and amazing simulation capabilities, and my great-grandmother's group wasn't the only be the only one to try something like this. I'm talking to you now only because our group turned out to be the most successful. Some other groups were, I think, to a lesser extent. Most made the fundamental mistake of trying to modify their own DNA rather than their future offspring's.

But-- well, this one made the news a while back: The closest attempt by men involved several of the same ideas: crytographically protected biology, multiple layers of defense, even a rudimentary "upgrade" mechanism, and they somehow solved the signing algorithm problem, probably with some sort of massively parallel processing of the sort that the male testes are good at. But they made a tiny error in the simulations they ran. None of their boys' sperm could unlock the outer coating of a girl's egg. They'd sentenced their children to being sterile. They're extinct now, and with the great purge of genetics knowledge, all that science has been lost forever. Politicians of the day used it as an example of the dangers of genetic engineering.

For reasons of our "ground rules" I can't go into too much detail about Dean's family. But let's say that... he didn't really have much in the way of "loved ones" pining for him after his disappearance.

I've decided, for my children, to leave in the ability to shrink a man; I love having Dean inside me so much that I think I want my daughters to have that option, should they so choose. But for them it won't be essential, as it is for me. It's also a bit of a safety net in the event that my own calculations are wrong somewhere: I don't want to take away the mechanism that works until I know that the next one does, too.

I promise to instill in my children the same kind of ethics that I've got, which incorporates the feedback from people like you. (Although, to be completely and brutally honest, the idea that I could spawn a race of world-dominating super-women, if I really wanted to, turns me on a bit. But I'll keep that in the realm of pure fantasy, I promise.)

[Groblek]

I promise to instill in my children the same kind of ethics that I've got, which incorporates the feedback from people like you. (Although, to be completely and brutally honest, the idea that I could spawn a race of world-dominating super-women, if I really wanted to, turns me on a bit. But I'll keep that in the realm of pure fantasy, I promise.)

Heh, we appreciate your restraint, Jessica. On the other hand, if you ever feel the urge to write out that fantasy, you'd find us a very receptive audience.

I'll admit that as a genetics geek, I find the concept of cryptographic encoding of memories into DNA fascinating, along with the rest of what your foremothers did. But I promise not to derail this conversation with technical questions, especially since a lot of that is probably best not discussed openly these days. I do have a couple more questions for the three of you, though I don't mind waiting if you want to continue with Dean's story first.

First, to Dean, thanks for the fascinating answer to my question about the differences between Amy & Jessica. (Even the messy details - I'm sure some people are glad of the cut, but I'm a bio geek and have been married for ovr a decade, I've long since lost any squeamishness around discussions of women's periods.). I do have a follow-up, which is to ask if you can go into more detail about the differences in your mental/emotional link to each of them.

Relatedly, to Jessica and/or Amy, Jessica made a reference to Dean's consciousness eventually being absorbed into you both. Does that mean that Jessica has the ability to pass her own abilities on to other women, or does Amy have some genetic tinkering in her background already? And will you both end up each containing a copy of Dean's consciousness/memories, or will he be collectively shared between you both somehow?

[dreamweevil]

Dean: I'm mesmerized by the sunlight as it shines through Jessica's hair. Her face is silhouetted against a clear blue sky, the light so brilliant that many of the other passengers on this side of the plane have closed their windowshades. But not Jessica. She's staring out that window while I stare at her.

I'm longing for someone I already have, someone who's only about three inches away from me in these cramped coach seats. I put my hand, delicately, on Jessica's leg, and she puts her hand atop mine; her way of telling me, again, to stop, while at the same time letting me know she appreciates the touch.

She warned me about touching her like that before we boarded the plane. Too late. Predictably, the guy next to me in the aisle seat gets just slightly creepier: I avoid looking in his direction. He's figured us out, I'm sure, that we're partners. He's invariably imagining what we do when we're alone. He's wondering what it would be like to watch me peel off Jessica's bra. He's probably imagining what it would be like to get into my pants.

I am inside those pants, a few inches away from the seat cushion of another airliner, inside Amy's body, sharing these thoughts with her. We're in love with the same person, Amy and I, and there's is absolutely nothing wrong with that because we can both have her.

This momentary lapse is an intermission in the the biggest, most serious discussion Amy and I ever had as adults. Thanks to Jessica we'd been intimate, but Amy and I were not yet friends.

We had a lot to unwind. I was terrible to her after our breakup. At that time, she wanted to talk with me, offering to help me through my heartbreak. I wanted absolutely no part of it, of her. I didn't want to be "friends". I didn't want to ever see her, or hear her voice again, and through my actions I let her know so much.

Imagine, for the moment, the torment due a young man who's "girlfriend" for the previous year just gleefully announced to the world that she was lesbian. What did that make me? It made me the brunt of every cruel tease in the entire building. It was awful. Horrible. I wanted to run away, never go to another day of class, never be seen again. (I guess I got at least one of those wishes.)

I remember Amy trying to intervene on my behalf and I didn't want that, either. I remember, in the distance, her growing desperate at the thought what she'd done to me. I didn't care. I was awful. I was an awful person.

Now, on a airplane flight barely an hour long, we finally had that conversation. The funny thing was that I knew! I knew back then that she was still trying to be my friend. If I had just listened to her: she was going to hook me up with one of her own friends, one who was bisexual and really hot. But, mired in self-pity and sexual frustration, I couldn't bear to accept even the slightest courtesy from her and finished out my time at that godawful school as quickly and with as little contact with other human beings, as I could.

Amy's thoughts don't always come through in words anymore: we're more efficient than that. It's closer to raw emotion, thought process, almost like you'd solve an internal conflict just within yourself. Sometimes we'll put things into English for emphasis, or just to organize those thoughts a little better.

"I should have done it," Amy told me. "I should have just had sex with you, like we'd planned."

"I wouldn't have wanted that. For you to be something you're not."

"But... what am I, then? Am I allowed to change, explore beyond my own immediate interest? Dean, if I could have seen things from your perspective like I do now, it would have been very different. But I was a stupid teenager."

"No, I was."

We went back to communicating without words after that. I looked down through her eyes; she was looking down at her lap, away from Jessica for the moment. She had brilliant, white stretch jeans on, a violet, frilly top, nice shoes to match. Much more conservative than she usually dresses. And she's a bit nervous about meeting Jessica's parents. We're going to visit her parents afterwards-- they live only a few hours' drive from our current destination.

Amy and Jessica are going to announce their engagement.

We laugh as we, Amy and I, realize that we keep making the same mental goof, imagining shaking hands with Jessica's father, trying to smile and meet his eyes as Jessica introduces us. He'd be this kindly, perhaps smaller gentleman, glasses, short hair tinged with perhaps a bit of gray, who wouldn't be bothered in the least when they found out that his daughter was planning to marry another woman.

But Jessica has no father. Through Jessica's thoughts, we've known this since the first night we slept together. Jessica, of course, has two mothers, both her biological parents. And she has four grandmothers, all living. Through Jessica's eyes we've already met all of these people, though it will be much different to meet them in person.

It also means that Jessica's parents will learn about me. The man she rescued from a lonely existence, currently delegated to her lover. I am the electron which, when shared, binds two atoms together into a stable molecule. Jessica's mothers will be proud of her. They will accept Amy: I'm sure of that, even though Amy doesn't share my confidence.

I think Amy's parents will be the bigger challenge. Jessica's parents know their daughter's secret. They will be surprised, yes, but will understand that Amy has already "seen" them, shared many of their daughter's thoughts and memories. But Amy's mother is a normal human being: A sweet, if a overworked, attractive woman. Somewhere on the planet she has an estranged father that divorced his mother years ago but barely bothers to keep in touch. It will be a challenge for Jessica to ignore some of what she already knows, like where the bathroom is (first door on the right between the hall closet and baseement stairs), or what the dogs' names are (Buffy and Slayer) or that "funny" story about Uncle Bill that she always tells (I'll spare you).

I think Amy and I are going to be good. I do love her; she knows that now. And now, at long last, I think we'll be friends too.

Spoiler: show

For those who read a previous spoiler and were wondering: Yes. Air pressure. Timing, and no, apparently I'm not going to catch a break here. Let's just say that it shows supreme confidence in me that she's wearing white jeans.

. . .

"I'd like you to do something for me."

"You know you never have to ask."

Things are happening so fast. I thought, naively, that I'd be bored, hanging out inside one woman's body or the other, trapped inside all this warmth with nothing to do. But it's impossible: the moment I truly have "nothing to do" I find myself outside, experiencing life as Jessica and Amy experience it; watching everyone around them, reading with them, and so on.

I'd been tasked with helping their ovulation cycles align with each other. Apparently, when they pass me from one love tunnel to the other I can carry hormonal messages too, and exert my influence such that, at some point, we'll be able to have children.

On the day that Jessica and Amy first undressed before each other that first time, their cycles were almost diametrically opposed to each other.

I think it was perfectly sensible to focus my hormonal synchronization efforts on Amy: take signals from The Woman With The World's Most Advanced Reproductive System and help dear ordinary Amy sync up to that. But the more effort I put into this, the more stubborn Amy's ovaries became about it, even to the point of adjusting in the wrong direction.

I was being a dolt. Of the two women, Amy is the natural "leader" this department. When I focused on ferrying Amy's signals to Jessica, Jessica's body obliged almost instantly. Instead of Amy's cycle growing longer, I helped encourage Jessica's to get shorter. I'd wasted at least three months. At one day every four weeks, by the time they were finally in perfect sync, they'd been married seven months already.

If I still breathed air, now would have been the time for a big sigh.

"Okay."

Jessica, to me, sounded like a coach sending me out of the locker room for a starring role in the Big Game. It was a playbook: all the steps, exactly what she needed me to do.

"You're going to go into Amy's body. Go right up to her cervix: She's going to admit you into her uterus. You're going to travel the entire length of it, all the way to the end, where you'll wait for her egg to arrive. When it does, take it inside yourself and make your way back to her entrance. When you gets there, we'll mate again, and you'll come back to me. I'll let you into my uterus, where if we've done this right you'll find my egg. Then all you have to do put the two together, wait until they start to fuse, and then get the heck out of there. Get back to my vagina and I'll take it from there.

"When you leave the egg behind, try to leave it deep inside so the placenta won't cover my cervix. And please don't dawdle. Once I'm pregnant, nothing will be getting in or out of my womb until our daughter's birthday. Is that totally clear?"

I repeated the plan back to her like an obedient soldier.

"Amy??" I heard Jessica shout. Amy was in the bathroom, brushing her teen, I think. "He's ready. Let's do this."

Amy was there not a minute later, naked and beautiful, and the two women climbed into bed with each other.

They're going to have at least four daughters between them, or at least so goes the plan. Amy isn't as thrilled by the concept as Jessica is with the idea of actually being pregnant, but she absolutely wants the experience at least once; so Jessica's planning to bear our first child ("to get things started"), Amy the second, and then Jessica at least two more after that, unless circumstances change. Amy makes enough money to afford this huge house; Jessica has already volunteered stay home and raise "the kids".

Suddenly, I'm up at bat. Jessica's lying down; Amy mounts her from above, sitting up. Jessica slowly extends me up into Amy's body: she's gotten quite good at that, and holds me there while we make our usual three-way neurological connection for a minute or two before Amy's rocking and Jessica is thrusting and we're on our way toward orgasm. As she progresses toward it, Jessica slowly extrudes me from herself, and I pop free of Jessica and into Amy just as the orgasm starts.

We've done this hundreds of times and it never gets old.

But now it's time for something new. Amy flips around onto her back and squeezes her legs together to drive me deep into herself. She holds me there. Everything around me seems to be growing, and I understand that she's got enough control over me now that she can change my size. Her cervix is opening. I've never been able to "see" inside it before like that, never been allowed into that space, and suddenly I'm not sure I actually want to go. But in this position her cervix looms over me, with the orgasm still ringing through Amy's body, and it seems to me like it's opening just a bit.

There's no way I'll be able to fit. It's a huge donut with a tiny center. Usually Amy hates it if I even touch it-- and somehow I'm supposed to squeeze myself through there, and back?

The orgasm brings contractions that are moving her cervix down over me. "Fine," I declare, essentially deciding to prove that this can't possibly work. But, as I touch the inner part of this ring, I find it's surprisingly soft-- it wasn't that way before! and with a single contraction, I'm pulled completely through it.

I look behind me. (Understand, by the way, that I'm no longer "seeing" with any kind of eyes: instead, after all this time, I've developed a good sense for what's going on around me inside here in three dimensions, almost as though I can see). The opening is still there; the way out. I memorize it, because from what Jessica told me I have to escape this place in a hurry.

Nord do I have fingers, or toes, or even feet. My legs are sticking together; I suppose I won't have those for much longer. I've been adapted-- a variation of the same power that shrunk me down in the first place is continuing to mold me into exactly what Amy and Jessica need: nothing more, nothing less. Apparently now that means I can get through a woman's cervix without too much trouble.

I swim/squirm to the far end of Amy's uterus. True to my high-school knowledge of female anatomy, the passenge ends where it splits in two; fallopian tubes. Even if I didn't already know (Amy's quite aware which side is ovulating during a particular cycle), I could sense the direction that the ovum was coming from.

I turned around, and fit myself to that tube.

Look what I've become; without a stomach, intestines, digestive system, I have a continuous, simple tube from one end of my body, my "mouth", to the other end. I can feel fluid flowing effort through me as Amy propels her egg toward me. It arrives, enters me, and then I ferry it through Amy's womb, and squeeze myself out through her cervix, with that precious egg safe inside me.

Amy is inspired to do something she's only tried twice before. She extrudes me, very slowly and carefully, from my body. Then I feel myself grow, stiffening, rooted to her, her vagina sealing up around my "waist".

Oh, I share with Amy. I get it.

Are you up for this?

Absolutely, I answer. Go for it!

I feel Amy glow with anticipation. She loves that she and I are on the same page. Alright!

Jessica emerges from the master bathroom. Amy is turned to the side, hiding me from Jessica, and turns such that we're both facing her in our full naked glory. It works. Jessica is caught entirely by surprise at seeing Amy in this configuration. She shouts "Ooo!" and almost falls back against the bathroom door.

Amy presses herself up close, nose to nose. "I hope you're good and ready ready for this, Jessica. Because I'm going to make you so fucking pregnant!"

Jessica is still off-balance from the sudden assault. She backs away, towards the bed, in a scared-playful way. "You didn't think about that, did you?"

Jessica falls backwards onto the bed, still speechless. With a squeeze, Amy makes me larger, points me in Jessica's direction. "Oh, yeah. Knocking up my partner big time. I can see you already, sitting in a rocking chair, huge, pregnant belly, barely able to get up on your own, knitting pink booties..."

"I don't know how to knit!" Jessica objected. (Actually, we both know that she does. I mean, Jessica knows everything.)

"Then you'll have to learn, won't you?" Amy looms over Jessica, pushing her backwards onto the bed. Jessica spreads her legs. Amy follows onto the bed, her knees between Jessica's. "I'll get to hear you scream as my daughter comes out of you, stretching you open..."

Amy's looming over Jessica now. Her nipples brush Jessica's abdomen as Jessica scoots backwards, up onto the bed. She runs a tongue over Jessica's left breast. "Soon I'll have these things actually working," Amy continued. "All that milk, all the breastfeeding so your daughter can turn all your hard work into pee and poop! Thousands of dirty diapers and you're going to enjoy changing every one of them, aren't you?"

"Okay," Jessica said, "getting to be a bit much..."

"Nothing you can do to stop it now! Jessica, we're about to get you pregnant!"

Amy lowered her hips, and pushed. She knew just how to aim: I went right in. All the sex play dropped at that instant; Amy's tongue went into Jessica's mouth and vice versa, and Amy's glue-like grip on my started to loosen.

I was still holding onto that Amy's delicate, microscopic egg for dear life, which, given the thrusting and gyration going around me, took some doing.

Amy was making love to Jessica like a guy might have, at least so it seemed to me, and she really seemed to be enjoying it; with long, completely in-and-out thrusts instead of the smaller, more intimate movements she usually preferred. my body long and slippery with juices and completely filling both women up; this was physical. And it was wonderful, But then, when isn't it?

For the first time ever, Amy was way ahead of Jessica. She was imagining herself just they way she'd played it, as a horny guy about to shoot a huge load into the soft, vulnerable, and highly fertile girl just beneath him. Thanks to her connection, I could see that fantasy too: and for an instant she wished she could have used me just that way, squirt a quart of her own semen through me and into her lover.

Jessica knew that Amy was about to explode and, surprisingly, didn't mind. She put her hands, delicately, on Amy's thrusting shoulders and pulled her in. "Go ahead. Do it."

Amy, on that command, orgasmed. Her vaginal contraction was the strongest I'd ever felt, and she positively shot me into Jessica's body. I checked: The egg was still safe inside me.

Jessica was still slowly building towards an orgasm while Amy's peak had come and gone. She turned the tables. "Now you've done it," she whispered. "You just lost control, and now your egg is mine."

"No, wait!" Amy cried out. She was still in orgasm but somehow already building towards a second. I felt like I was missing out on all this; my body already shrinking, at least from what I could tell, as Jessica prepared to admit me to her womb.

"There's nothing you can do about it now, my dear," Jessica said. "IT's already beyond your reach. Soon I'm going to be pregnant with your child. There's no stopping it now. Right, Dean?"

Jessica started pulling me through her warm, soft cervix.

"He's going in. It's inevitable now, Amy. I'm getting pregnant, and it's your fault. If you think you're getting out of the breastfeeding and diaper changes, sister, you're sorely mistaken. She's gonna have a whole bunch of stinky ones just for you."

Amy suddenly rolled off of Jessica, and lay next to her; both women sweaty and exhausted. "Breastfeeding? Okay, I'm on board with the diaper changes, but I'm going to be at work, isn't that the plan?"

"You'll just have to figure it out," Jessica said.

I lost the connection after that. I had a mission now, busily squirming my way toward the far end of Jessica's uterus. Best I could tell I was perhaps a twentieth the size I was just a moment ago. The egg, largest cell in the Amy's body, seemed so large to me, even though I knew it was only a tiny speck. I regurgitated it; nice and safe and unharmed from its journey, protected as it was from Jessica's vaginal acids, and here with me in the absolutely warm, comfotable, life-giving interior of Jessica's womb.

I hadn't considered that on my trip through Amy's uterus. She was as fertile as Jessica, of course. The lining of the womb nothing like the smooth, slippery muscularity of a woman's vagina. Every surface here is designed to support life, at least at the moment. I can see why an egg would want to nestle up against it, inside it.

Right now I had to find Jessica's egg.

I did that, somehow, by smell. I could feel it; right-side ovary just like Amy's was, just hanging out at the transition between fallopian tube and uterus. I approached slowly so my movements wouldn't push the egg away from me, opposite the direction that millions of tiny cilia were pushing it.

And now I had both eggs, one in each "hand", if you want to still call them that. To me at the time, they seemed about the same size as a grapefruit, round and perfect, each exuding the pungent chemical "scent" that helped me find them. They were heavy. Amy's seemed sticky and gelatinous on the outside while Jessica's was smooth, and hard.

Except on the bottom where I'd been holding it the longest. There, the outer surface of the egg seemed to be softer, like it was melting, getting sticky like Amy's.

This is it. This is the touch you needed. I get it.

My entire purpose reduced to this: Getting these two eggs near each other, and then touching them with my male hands, the "secret handshake" coded in the head of spermatozoa that unlocks the egg to fertilization. This is all that Jessica or Amy need of me now.

I floated there for minutes, eggs waiting one in each hand, as the enormity of it all settled helplessly over me like lead weights. Jessica's ovum on my left. The next generation; another "upgrade". One that won't need men at all, not even in the pitiful role I suddenly realized I had been reduced to. One I'd willingly allowed myself to be reduced to.

What is wrong with me? I could have been the handsome husband, the vice-president of some medium-sized business. I could have been putting together the crib, getting the salad bowl down from the shelf above the refrigerator, exchanging witty banter with the waiters and waitresses at a fancy restauurant as they served my wife and I for our anniversary dinner. I could have had friends and watched football and sat with my wife as she fed our children and they wouldn't have even all been girls. I could have changed flat tires and been distressed over my first gray hair and been there for my friends when they needed someone to cheer them up; pushed my children on the swings in the park while my wife complained that I was pushing them too high only to hear my children say "higher, Daddy!"

But look at the path I've chosen. I'm never going to see the real daylight again. Buried, secretly, in the darkness of my partners' reproductive systems, helping them make baby after baby. Correction: baby girl after baby girl. Nobody even knows I'm here.

I rotated Jessica's egg a bit, to put that smooth, hard surface between it and myself, and held the eggs as far apart as I could.

Then I realized that everything in the outside world had gone quiet.

Jessica knows what's going wrong.

"I can't make you do this," she said. It must have been fifteen minutes. Although I can't "see" outside at this instant, i knew that Amy would be there too, silent at Jessica's side, waiting for any update.

"I know you can't."

"I can tell you how much I love you and how much Amy loves you and that everything will be okay, but somehow that won't matter to you."

I didn't answer. She was exactly correct.

"Then you have to do what you think is right. If you can't bring yourself to do it, then don't."

"I'm not leaving both eggs here," I answered. Somehow I had a feeling she'd thought of this; if I just dropped both eggs right now, there's a pretty good chance that they'd touch before either egg lost viability.

"You can take either egg out with you. We can talk about it. In four weeks we can try again."

And again, and again, and again. They can put me through this every month until I finally break down and make their baby come alive for them.

"Our baby," Jessica corrected.

Somehow, Jessica was being strong. It was Amy who was starting to tear up. Jessica saw this: I watched without giving any feedback, and Amy burst into tears. She slammed her fist down onto Jessica's abdomen; in the resulting earthquake, I dropped Amy's egg. I swam for it and caught it.

Knowing I was curious and that it would help her case, Jessica relayed Amy's words to me. "Come on! How hard can it be? Just do it!"

"Sssh," Jessica said, trying to calm her wife. "That won't help."

"But I want a baby!"

"So do I."

I held still. The world, quite literally, in my hands. [b]A woman who will not need a man to reproduce. Once she exists there is no going back, not ever. And it will be completely and totally my fault. I am the only one who can make it happen.

"What a time to enjoy his first power trip, huh?" Jessica told Amy, smiling.

"Dean," Jessica said, "You're taking too much credit for this. Even if we don't have this baby, someone else will. I've already shared the plans."

With her "cousins". Of course. I can't say how, but there is some means by which these women share their ideas. For ethical reasons, Ithis "upgrade" had to be approved, by other women just like Jessica, which means the design has necessarily already spread. Some other woman will persuade her own pussy-whipped vaginal occupant into doing what I'm not doing.

It still doesn't have to be me. I don't have to be the first. I looked behind myself, for the cervix, still open in the far distance, and started to decide which egg I'd take with me and which I'd leave behind. Within two days or so, both would die.

I found I couldn't do that either. Minutes became hours. Amy was still nervous, Jessica somehow calmer. "We have no idea how hard this is," I heard Jessica explaining. She'd read my thoughts. "I mean, he's given up everything for us. Everything. And now look what we're asking of him. I dont blame him at all. If I was in his place... I'd probably be doing the same thing."

It was pitch black outside: well after eleven P.M. when I finally brought the two eggs together. Curiosity. I figured I'd touch briefly touch them to see what happened; even though there couldn't have been more than a single point connecting those two spheres, they pulled together like magnets.

For a moment, I'm sure I could have gotten them apart again. But by this point I was fascinated, and also worried of damaging them. They quickly started to assume more of an hourglass shape. Soon an opening would develop between them and it'd be too late. But I was fascinated. Suddenly my "hands" seemed to be pushed away from the two eggs, like I'd lost my grip on them -- and when I touched them again the outer surface was no longer soft and gelatinous, but, to me, rigid and impenetrable. The opening between the two eggs had already formed. The eggs were merging into one.

I was transfixed. Inside, the fertilization dance was beginning: I could "see" it, as much as I could "see" anything else. Jessica's DNA, uncoiling and lining itself up as Amy's did the same. Pairs of chromosomes seeking each other out like strangers at the last dance of the night. Then: bliss as, one by one, the pairs found each other, moving tenataively closer, then suddenly coiling and zipping themselves together to form a brand new, unique blueprint for a human being.

The enormity of what I'd just done washed over me. It froze me in place until Jessica's stern caution came back to me. The eggs was continuing to change shape, from hourglass to oval and towards round. All at once, its scent changed. Previously, to my senses, it was sweet, delicate, attractive. The new "scent" was harsh and acrid, and caused me to drop the egg.

I swam toward the exit with every bit of energy I had, hoping desperately that I remembered the way. Jessica's womb became narrower toward her cervix, so I measured my progress against that, racing against time and that egg. Soon the passage was tight and I squirmed and squeezed myself through what seemed to be a very long passage before popping out of Jessica's cervix into the relative spaciousness of her vagina.

The way I'd squirted out of her cervix put me very close to my usual position inside her: lined up against the posterior wall of her vagina, just barely away from her cervix. It's here where the connection between us was the strongest, here where I felt the most comfortable, where the connection to life-giving oxygen and nutrients seemed best. It was a world away, however, from where I'd just been. I'd been in a woman's womb! The cradle of life itself! And where I'd been specially adapted over time for my existence here, that place was warm and cushioned and so amazingly supportive of life that it was a shame I couldn't just live there instead of here.

For a terrifying moment, on my initial reconnection to the outside world, it was Jessica who was holding steady while Amy was almost in tears. They had no idea yet that I'd changed my mind. Jessica had felt me come through her cervix but still had every reason to believe I was still taking one unfertilized egg with me to spoil any chance at pregnancy.

I wanted to keep that surprise to myself for a moment, but Jessica read my thoughts instantly. Her eyes flew open. "He did it! Our eggs have merged. We're becoming pregnant right now!"

There was this tremendous rumbling behind me. Small and large tremors as Jessica's uterine muscles fluttered, reacting to the egg's implantation and helping it settle into a crevice where it could burrow in and begin absorbing nutrients. Those acidic, acrid pregnancy hormones began their spread through Jessica's bloodstream. Her cervix shrank, shutting tightly, the hole in its center disappearing.

Somewhere inside, the cryptographic signing process was already complete; Jessica's body locking the genetic code of her daughter's against any future tampering, while simultaneously applying her consciously-derived upgrades and transferring much of her vast knowledge to her offspring.

Amy was stroking Jessica's belly, feeling those tiny tremors for herself. For her, this was a dream come true: to have her own baby, a daughter just like her, with another woman. "You're already making me jealous," she finally said.

"Next one's yours," Jessica answered. To me, out loud: "Dean, we'll never be able to thank you enough." Amy put her hand over her lover's crotch, right over where I was. Amy didn't have to say anything: her touch was enough, and I knew what it meant.

. . .

My new job, with Jessica pregnant, was now to ferry these pregnancy hormones from Jessica back to Amy. It was purely optional on Amy's part, but Jessica sold the idea very easily: if Amy "shared" in the pregnancy this way, she'd be spared the ordeal of menstruation for the duration, would get the same "pregnancy boobs" that both women were actually looking forward to, and would be able to share in the breastfeeding duties once the baby was born. The hormones themselves grew quickly in concentration, spreading throughout Jessica's body: just five days after fertilization, I got to watch Jessica pee on a pregnancy test kit: enough surplus hormone in her urine already to handily register a "pregnant" result. (Amy was there, watching from a different perspective).

The hormones get absorbed into my body, and then Jessica and Amy have sex, where I'm transferred between them as usual, and then I involuntarily release those hormones back into Amy. Sure enough, no more menstruation. Soon enough, both women's bodies began to change.

Jessica tells me that these hormones, though intense, shouldn't affect me, but I'm not so sure. I feel more docile than before, more focused on the day-to-day, repetitive tasks involved in making a baby than on myself. The passage of time, the slow, continuing absorption of my body, no longer bothered me. The months started to pass quickly.

From my perspective, the first trimester is all about internal transformation. The hormones are strong, and intense. Jessica's birth canal starts to grow; while not much changes on the outside, she developed additional folds that would eventually allow the passage of her baby. She's turning into a baby-making machine. Her breasts began to swell impressively. Amy was jealous of this; her changes came a little later, at which point she was more than happy to show off her new cleavage.

They made their announcement at the beginning of the second trimester. It wasn't a surprise to Jessica's folks, of course, but Amy had to evade some delicate questions. Most people around us assume the existence of an anonymous sperm donor. Jessica and Amy let those convenient misconceptions stand. We started to feel the baby come to life; Jessica's belly swelled, and although I found myself preferring the roomier accommodations between Amy's legs, most of the time I found myself crowded into Jessica's body as the increasing weight of her baby pressed, day and night, onto me.

Amy and Jessica went to the birthing classes together.

In the third trimester everything gets big, and very heavy. JJessica and Amy were intimate less frequently; and even when they did have sex, I tended not to leave Jessica's body at all. In fact, I found myself decreasingly able to move from my spot, as though I were glued there. I'd assumed, but never asked, that Jessica would want her birth canal to be completely clear, for obvious reasons, when the time came. That wasn't the case at all, as I found out with only eleven weeks to go. Not only was Jessica continuing to absorb me, with some of that stored energy feeding her baby, but I would be lending her my strength for the delivery itself. For that purpose her body was drawing me into itself, integrating me, preparing me for childbirth the way it was preparing the rest of itself.

We didn't seem to talk much. She and I were focused on the same effort: getting ready to produce a living human being. I was the first to know, then, when it was getting close. Her cervix started to to swell several hours before the first contraction. She calmly notified Amy. Nineteen hours later, Jessica's cervix opened for the first time in nine months; yawning wide as the crown of her daughter's head appeared.

I won't sugarcoat this: Despite improvements over the last three generations, it hurt. Not too much, but it did. It was also amazing, and wonderful, working together to smoothly deliver this brand new human being. I think Jessica found it surprisingly easy: somehow, she left me to do much of the work. What hurt most, really, was watching this beautiful baby girl, which Jessica and I had tended together all this time, make her escape into the outside world, full of light and life and and all the possibilities of the future; then to see our midwife throw the blanket over Jessica's knees and be plunged back into darkness. For a brief moment there was a reprieve as we delivered the placenta; then back into darkness, sore and warn out.

It took six months to recover from the event and for things to get back to normal. I felt exhausted the entire time: Jessica was still drawing on my body during her recovery. By the time I had the ability to move, or transfer between women again, our daughter Alicia was six months old, and Amy was beginning the preparations for her first pregnancy.

The baby had drawn a lot from me, and even breastfeeding drew a bit. Jessica helped me work out the math. I'd contributed about nin percent of my original body mass to Alicia, with Jessica making up the rest through the usual biological processes. Given that I was losing some all the time anyway, we figured that I could support, at most, four more children like this before there was nothing left of me at all.

There was nothing to do now but soldier on with it. Having barely recovered from giving life to Alicia, my partners almost immediately pressed me into service in conceiving their second daughter. As they'd previously agreed, this time Amy was to give birth, which meant an additional trip for me: Taking Amy's egg into Jessica as before, as only Jessica can complete the DNA unlocking and encryption process, then quickly ferrying the combined egg back to Amy's awaiting womb, then escaping quickly to Amy's vagina, where I remained (except for those brief hormone-transfer journeys) until their daughter Belle was born.

To me, this experience was not remarkably different than the first. The slight differences: Amy's body seemed a bit "hungrier" than Jessica; her baby grew more quickly, and her body changed more significantly during the first trimester as she transformed into a mother-to-be.

When not absorbed (so to speak) with the pregnancy itself, I'm vicariously watching Alicia grow up. She's a completely ordinary-seeming baby girl, by design. All of her special abilities, and memories of her past lives, are latent, to be awakened someday by ovaries that at the moment are mere specks inside her tiny, immature, but beautiful body.

Back to Jessica I went, as the two women continued to transform what used to be a quiet, almost lonely, big old house into a bustling nerve center of activity; three healthy daughters of four years, two years, and six months. Belle and Clarisse are still being breast-fed. Alicia is starting to wean herself and has been toilet-trained for over a year already.

Nobody in our community knows what's going on here. The Future of Humanity is right here, in this house, in the form of our three girls.

One night in late summer, after getting the girls to sleep, Jessica eyes Amy in a particular way, puts her hand on her hip. I remember thinking: "It can't be that time already!"

But it was.

[right2fail]

Eagerly waiting on more!

[dreamweevil]

I promise to instill in my children the same kind of ethics that I've got, which incorporates the feedback from people like you. (Although, to be completely and brutally honest, the idea that I could spawn a race of world-dominating super-women, if I really wanted to, turns me on a bit. But I'll keep that in the realm of pure fantasy, I promise.)

Heh, we appreciate your restraint, Jessica. On the other hand, if you ever feel the urge to write out that fantasy, you'd find us a very receptive audience.

Jessica: I may take you up on this. I've been little afraid of taking that ego trip, but a little less so now. I'll think about it. What kind of fate could I have arranged for all of you?

First, to Dean, thanks for the fascinating answer to my question about the differences between Amy & Jessica. (Even the messy details - I'm sure some people are glad of the cut, but I'm a bio geek and have been married for ovr a decade, I've long since lost any squeamishness around discussions of women's periods.). I do have a follow-up, which is to ask if you can go into more detail about the differences in your mental/emotional link to each of them.

Relatedly, to Jessica and/or Amy, Jessica made a reference to Dean's consciousness eventually being absorbed into you both. Does that mean that Jessica has the ability to pass her own abilities on to other women, or does Amy have some genetic tinkering in her background already? And will you both end up each containing a copy of Dean's consciousness/memories, or will he be collectively shared between you both somehow?

Jessica I'll see if I can get Dean's take on the first, otherwise I'll have to fill it in for you. As you point out, it's related to the second question.

On the second... Okay. I'll answer, but you might not be happy with what I have to say.

We were all so excited by the successful three-way link we'd established-- such a remarkable achievement-- that I let Dean write about it. I'm thinking now that I should have considered that choice more carefully. But if the cat's out of the bag, then I owe you an explanation.

For those not caught up, Groblek noticed that Dean, my wonderful, highly obedient boyfriend was able to establish a link to Amy's mind within a few seconds of entering her body. But Amy's not like me: she's a normal woman with normal parents, and even though I've altered Dean's size and biology to meet my needs, how did Amy gain the ability to make that connection?

Okay, here goes. I gave that ability to her.

Before you all freak out, please understand. I don't know the exact number, but there were somewhere between twenty-five and 100 women involved in the initial experiments that made me a reality. Each additional person involved represented a security risk; a chance they'd be discovered before completing their self-imposed mission. But that number was going to be too small to ensure the kind of genetic diversity necessary to guarantee human survival in the long run.

Back then, it was the best they could do, with limited time and resources at their disposal. They left it up to their children to solve the problem. The first generation, my grandmother's, could mate with each other. But that would only decrease the diversity overall.

Now, with all the optimization and cleanup work, we do not have the issue of troublesome recessive genes, birth defects, and all. I could have children with my sister and they'd be perfectly healthy. But over the long run? Dozens, hundreds of generations? And would we just be a separate, engineered species completely unrelated to "normal" humans-- destined for an isolated experience?

What happened when one of us fell for with someone we could never bear children with?

That problem went unresolved for two generations. It was my mother, and her peers, that developed at least a partial solution. While I couldn't alter Amy's DNA, or that of the eggs already in her ovaries, I could induce her body to develop the one key device necessary for her to communicate with her unborn children as well as the tiny (but, at the time, extremely happy) man I would later insert into her. It would allow her to maintain control over him during the entire sex and fertilization process; without it, she'd be at risk of the "shrinking" effect collapsing while he was inside her, with understandably disastrous results.

The device itself is just a few extra nerve fibers that extend from her spinal cord to her reproductive system, and the neural induction pads that they terminate in. They hide among the bundles of sensory and motor nerves that service her uterus and vagina. They would give her control over her own reproduction, and make it possible for her to mate with me someday.

I was twelve. A spindly teenager, mired in school while only recently having "discovered" my history. Amy didn't know. We'd been friends a long time. We'd gone to camp together, we were in the school play together-- just two girls, having fun, but I didn't share any of my backstory, for obvious reasons.

Like all girls that age, she was trying to figure herself out, establish her identity. It won't surprise you now to hear that, at one point, alone with me in her room, she asked: "I wonder what it's like to kiss a girl... you know, really kiss?". A few minutes earlier we'd watched seen some kind of video that inspired the question.

Without much more thought, I kissed her. I put my tongue into her mouth and thought of what I wanted, and I intentionally contaminated her. I touched her "down there" while she had her hand on me, and I imagined those nerve fibers forming in her body, same ones I already had. It was so frightening to both of us, how good this seemed to feel and yet somehow so wrong, that we never really talked about it again.

She came down with the "flu" a day later, which apparently is the temporary human reaction to the changes I'd induced in her. I never told her what I'd done. If I hadn't met with her later in life, she'd probably have never known. She'd have the "wiring" but not have known how to use it.

I can't tell you with any certainly whether Amy's sexual preference caused this to happen, or whether I caused it (or at least contributed to it). She turned back to boys for a while because she thought that's what she was supposed to do. She dated Dean for almost a year and broke his heart. And then I sought her out and made her complete at last, as she did me; and now we have a bustling family together.

I didn't know that this was going to work at all. And I hadn't considered that my tiny, lovable "boyfriend" could so easily form a conduit between us: that he'd be able to link himself to both of us at the same time, and therefore Amy and I could share thoughts like we do. (I'll admit that I was hoping for this, but just wasn't sure it would really happen when I tried it.)

Then, over time and many nights firmly connected to each other, Amy was able to learn what I know, and in that way become one of "us". She still does not have encrypted DNA: she can become ill from a virus, suffer DNA damage from radiation, and so on, but all of her children have that protection. I've taken the best parts of Amy and combined them with the best parts of myself. Dean is there too; at least his memories are. But I'll let him tell you about it while he still can.

This means very good things for us, but I can understand the feelings it's likely to cause in others. That, beyond just our own children, that we're "spreading", that we can take "your" women and recruit them to our cause with little more than a kiss. I hope I've adequately explained why it's necessary.

I see this next generation, my children, as a significant transition in just who we are and where we're going. Just one generation ago we couldn't keep a man alive for more than a single successful fertilization: they were completely consumed in the process of babymaking. One man, one beautiful, perfect baby girl. Dean has helped create three, with a fourth on the way. My children will not require men at all, though as I've said, I've left that ability in should they so choose. But I'm tasking my children with finally solving the problem that's eluded us for so long, and having men join us for real: not as tiny, "pussy-whipped" slaves who commit their lives to the service of our reproductive systems, but as fully capable humans in their own right, proudly alongside us as we step boldly into the future.

(When we do that, we might dial down their aggressiveness and rapey-ness a bit, but I don't think we'll tell them.)

[dreamweevil]

Jessica: Okay, I think we're all set up. Dean?

Dean?

Dean: I'm here.

Jessica: You've got one question, if you can take it.

Dean: Okay. I don't have long.

Jessica: It's from Groblek.

Dean: Oh, good. What...?

Jessica: What difference do you feel in the mental connection between Amy and I?

Dean: At first? At the second before that first connection we made to Amy... well, you were hopeful. I was pretty much in shock: there I was, after all, glued to your body almost exactly like I was your penis, with two women both watching me, so I didn't get to explore your feeling too closely: I was excited with what was going on in the physical world around me--

Jessica: Of course.

Dean: Right. But then, just as you buried me in Amy's body, I felt that connection almost right away, the same kind that I've with you. Amy's initial thoughts, to me, seemed like thankfulness: she was so glad to be doing what she was doing! Then... surprise, just like you, when she realized she could sense my thoughts, and then a moment later that she could sense yours. After that I was pretty much overloaded and could only pick up a fraction of what you and Amy were sharing with each other. Then you both kind of got on the same frequency, started pouring your own energy into each other...

Jessica: That orgasm was mind-blowing.

Dean: Anyway, what I can say is that you were very different at the beginning, but I missed much of it: once you two were connected, you started becoming more alike. All those nights, under the covers, you spooned with Amy, with me inside both of you, and all night long your thoughts flowed through each other and I could only capture a sample of what was going through me. Mostly, Jessica, you were sharing your impressive history with Amy, and teaching her all of your secrets; she was your student. Now she knows just about everything that you do, and she contributed to the new design for your children.

I still think I could tell the difference between you, or at least I could the last time we were connected like that. You're preserving that difference in personality intentionally: Amy's more playful while also focused on her business, you (Jessica) are usually thinking of your family, the longer-term future. And me. I'm inside you more often than I've been in Amy, and now... I don't know what else to say.

Jessica: I think that's good.

Dean: I think it'll have to do.

Jessica: Okay. I'm going to get out of the way here, Dean. These words have to be completely yours, at least as much as you can muster. I'll be right here if you need me. You've got fans out here, Dean, and they'll want to know what your thoughts were. And what... happened to you.

Dean: (sigh). You're right. Okay, I'll try to stay focused. Here we go.

At the beginning, Jessica told me that there'd be no turning back. While I didn't expect it all to end up here, like this, I'm not completely surprised or disappointed that it did.

I knew something was wrong, or I should have known, early on. Returning from Amy's body to Jessica's, carrying Amy's egg with me, well... Amy likes to pounce on Jessica with me hanging half-out of her body, and since she can control my size she likes to make me a little "too large". It's become an inside joke, one that, after three successful fertilizations, Jessica came to expect. But this time Amy had trouble getting me to "grow" to the size she wanted. She made do with me as I was, and everything seemed fine after that.

By the time I reached Jessica's womb and started the process of helping them conceive their fourth daughter, I was more tired than usual. I chalked it up to the pace: it takes a lot of resources to make a baby, both mental and physical, and where Amy and Jessica can recharge with a good meal and some sleep, I really can't. So I took my time. I usually rush for the exit at the first possible moment, knowing my fate if I didn't. But this time... I don't know. I was curious, studying how all that DNA comes together. I think what I really wanted to feel was that moment that comes afterwards, when Jessica begins to apply her magic to this single, fused egg; that connection that I could only sense from a distance before. I thought I'd have more time; I guided the fertilized egg to a perfect spot in that warm, soft uterine lining. I knew I wouldn't see the "magic" I was hoping for, but I really, for some reason, wanted to get this egg "tucked in" before making the usual run for it.

It's like I woke up halfway through those motions and asked myself: "What the hell am I doing?"

I raced for Jessica's cervix. With three children born already, that cervix was larger than it was before her first baby; I figured that would give me an edge. The egg was already implanting, sending out its signals to start the pregnancy. The muscular contractions were stronger than I remember them; I was tired, weak, and the earthquakes threw me off course. The waves passed by me and reached Jessica's cervix.

I did try my best after that, but it was a lost cause. Her cervix was closing faster than I could get to it. I was crying-- or at least would have if I still head tear glands-- desperate. By the time I got there, it had no opening at all; completely and tightly shut. Jessica's words from several years ago returned with a vengeance: one that cervix closes, nothing would be getting in or out for the entire duration of the pregnancy.

So it's no longer "Greetings from Jessica's Vagina". I'm trapped in her womb, walled off from the space I occupied for so long, and I'm quite aware that I'll never be leaving this place. Only her daughter will escape it, long months from now. I will have been completely absorbed by the time that happens.

Not that I haven't been mostly absorbed already; I guess I was in blissful denial. Amy couldn't "grow" me the way she wanted because I was already "actual size". This means I'm only writing to you at all because of Amy's and Jessica's assistance: with the number of brain cells I must have left I couldn't think of a single word, much less put together a coherent sentence. They've been keeping me alive, lending me their intellectual capacity to keep me going even though I live more in their heads than what's left of my own. My body and strength and almost everything I know has been transferred to two amazing women and their three daughters; I don't regret this in the least.

At last, then, I've seen it. With nothing left to lose I got to "watch" the process begin whereby Jessica modifies her own offspring; updating and then securing her future daughter's body plan and then starting the slow "download" of an enormous amount of content.

It takes much, much longer than I expected. It happens in a particular sequence: updates, cleanup, encryption, and then the longest of all: where Jessica transfers her amazing store of knowledge to her unborn child. Given that I still have some ability to sense the thoughts as they flow nearby, I found them amazingly ordered; you'd think a dump of your memories would be chaotic, random, like your thoughts; this felt more like you'd expect in a library, an encyclopedia. It's slow, methodical-- no wonder Jessica was so distracted during early pregnancy, and loving and wonderful and just feels so complete. I wish I was the target of it, instead of just being a spectator.

I found myself cozy against Jessica's uterine wall not too far away. It's soothing, nurturing, like nothing in the world can hurt me; like I'll live forever.

How could I not fall asleep?

I woke up maybe a few hours ago. It took a while to remember just where I was, and then I was thankful I'd woken at all: really, my story could have ended right there. Of course I tried to move, but I can't. A membrane of blood vessels had grown over me. When I struggled against this, it grow stronger, thicker. It's attached to the uterine wall all around me and is rooted to me. It's the placenta. Our daughter, already larger than myself, floats freely, connected, out of my vision. Her blood vessels are seeking out the traces of nutrition they can glean from me.

I had no idea, if Jessica could hear me, sense my presence at all, if I was even alive. What surprised me most of all is who answered. It wasn't Jessica's calming voice I heard, nor Amy, who was likely nearby somewhere. It was Daisy. Clearly separate from Jessica's own consciousness, she seemed curious.

"Hello."

No, that can't be happening, I thought. "How can you... think, much less speak?" It's still the first trimester of pregnancy. She might have a few thousand brain cells at most.

"That's more than you've got," she answered. "I'm conscious for the same reason you are, silly boy."

She's right. I'm in Jessica's mind, not my own; and now I'm sharing that consciousness with Daisy, apparently, who is to be our fourth daughter. Sensing what was going on, Jessica got set up with her laptop, so I could tell you what's happening: and here we are.

Daisy: So we're caught up? He's finally done? He's mine now?

Jessica: Daisy!

Daisy: Isn't that why he's here? For me?

Jessica: He's done more for you than you know, Daisy. You wouldn't be here if it weren't for him.

Dean: I thought this was my story.

Jessica: I'm sorry. It's part of this process-- it's temporary, it's... never mind. Go ahead.

Dean: I'm not sure what else... I can feel Daisy, in my thoughts. I want to remember... each thing I touch on, in my memory, it's like she's taking it.

Daisy: You were remembering when you first met Mommy!

Dean: Yes, thank you-- oh, when Jessica and I first met and I had no idea what-- what would...

Daisy: Wow! You let her do that to you? You really needed to be owned by a woman, didn't you? In that case, have I got a place for you!

Jessica: Daisy! Be gentle with him!

Dean: Why can't I remember...? You're taking my thoughts?

Daisy: I'm taking your body, too! Absorbing it right into myself! I'm going to be such a beautiful, intelligent girl... right, Mommy?

Jessica: Of course, dear. Just let him finish...

Daisy: Tell them what you studied in school, Dean. You had a Master's Degree, didn't you? What did you learn?

Dean: I remember school, that I went, but I can't remember what... !

Daisy: But I do! Thanks for that! Just saved me five years.

Dean: ...

Daisy: He's got almost nothing left, Mom. I think he's done. I'm going to take the rest of him now.

Jessica: Daisy, Wait. Dean? Are you still there?

Dean: Yes? I think?

Daisy: Not for much longer!

Dean: Daisy? Jessica? Amy?

Jessica: I've got Amy right here, darling. What is it?

Dean: I love you.

Daisy:: Aw, that's sweet! A nice way to finish up. So it's time! Time be trapped inside another woman for all eternity! What you wanted, wasn't it? You're so lucky I didn't just have Mom absorb what's left of you and pee you out.

Jessica: Daisy, there's no way I'd do that.

Daisy: Don't worry, I won't either. Just teasing. But I'm pulling what's left of him into me now. Incorporating what's left of him into my body. Arms, legs, what's left of his brain... you can't stop me!

Jessica: I know.

Daisy: Almost gone.

The last little bit...

He's gone, Mom. He's inside me now.

Jessica: Okay, little one. You did well.

Daisy: Thanks for the "gift", Mom. I think my sisters will be jealous.

Jessica: Daisy?

Daisy: I'm tired.

Jessica: Yes. I'm putting you back to sleep now.

Daisy: What? Don't you want to keep talking like this? Don't those people out there want to hear about me??

Jessica: I don't think so. You're not real yet, Daisy. You have a life in front of you, but this isn't it. Soon enough You'll be your own woman, not the one I'm imagining. You're not going to remember any of this.

But he will.

He wasn't your gift, little one. You are his.

[dreamweevil]

Jessica: I'm sorry to have to do this to you. You may feel a little tingling or dizziness as you read this: in order to share what I'd like to share with you, I need to drag you (kicking and screaming, in some cases) approximately twelve years into your own future. Don't worry: when you turn from the story you'll be back in your own reference frame, none the worse for wear. This time jump serves two purposes: it lets me get you into a more interesting section of the story, and it insulates my daughters from any trouble they'd otherwise get into by divulging what they know. Alicia, in particular, has some interesting adventures to share. But for now, this is Daisy's story, which, thanks to the aforementioned time jump, I no longer need to transcribe.

. . .

There is light!

And air! I can breathe! Real, honest-to-goodness air, not oxygen just absorbed through my skin. I've got lungs that work!

Look! Down there! Feet! I can wiggle my toes and they actually move!

I'm sitting on a toilet? I'm all alone and this bathroom is definitely familiar, I've seen it before but never felt that cold tile on my feet. I look at those feet again, connected to legs that are skinnier than I remember. In my left hand I'm holding toilet paper, there's blood on it. My blood.

Something's horribly, seriously wrong with me. That was it: my last thought before waking up here. I think I gasped-- in real life or just a dream? Did I call for help?

That question is answered a moment later. The door, apparently unlocked, opens and a young woman I've never seen before pokes her head inside. Instantly I snap my legs shut but it's too late: she's seen what I was trying to hide.

Without entering the bathroom, the girl turns her head and shouts down the hallway. "Mom?!", she cries, a gradual crescendo.

I hear a voice from far away. Unlike the girl at the bathroom door, the distant voice is instantly familiar to me. "What is it, Belle? I'm busy!"

That's Jessica's voice.

"It's Daisy, Mom. I think you should come up here."

I want to drop the blood-streaked paper into the toilet but I can't: I have no idea what's going on. I'm settling into a panic, unable to move.

Jessica apparently determines mid-stairway that this is urgent, for suddenly I hear her sprint up the stairs. She, and another girl, appear in the doorway at the same time, such that there are now three people looking at me as I sit on the toilet.

"What's going on?" the younger woman asked.

"Daisy just got her period," Belle answered, quietly.

"Oh," the younger answers.

Jessica moves, cautiously, into the bathroom. I'm instantly glad to see her: the one person who might help me make sense of this. Without turning from me: "I think she just got a lot more than that. Give her some space."

The two girls instantly know what that meant. "Oooohhh," they said, together.

"Go call Amy for me, will you, Belle? She should probably come home if she can."

Amy. I know that name somehow.

Jessica knelt beside me. She put a finger on my knee and nudged me to spread my legs. I looked down.

I'm a girl. I have no idea who I am, but I'm definitely a girl. Jessica reached over me, unspooled some more paper from the roll, and gently blotted between my legs.

"You have to do that for her?" the younger girl asks. I notice now that the younger of the two is still older than I seem to be.

"She's in shock. Not the physical kind, though. You remember when it happened to you, Clarisse. Under the sink, left side, way in the back, I think there's a box of pads. Get me one, will you?"

Next thing I knew Clarisse was sitting on the floor at my feet, affixing some kind of pad to the inside of my panties while Jessica cleaned me up. They had me stand-- I flushed the toilet with some embarrassment, and pulled up my panties, which felt weird with that pad against me. Clarisse went to pull up my pants but Jessica stopped her.

"Leave those off. She's going right to bed," Jessica said. "She won't be steady on her feet for a little while. She has a lot to work out. You're not going to school tomorrow, young lady," Jessica said, with a quick peck on the cheek.

They got me onto my feet. Belle was in the hallway, phone in her hand. "Mom's on her way."

Mom? I looked up. Jessica is 'Mom', too. We just pronounce it slightly differently to distinguish. "Mom" and "Mahmm". Our family knew the code but it was undetectable to strangers. How do I know that?

I looked straight at Jessica. My eyes only came up to her shoulders, but then... somehow I was used to her being larger than I... much larger. "You're my mother."

"Daisy, what is wrong with you?" Clarisse asked, point blank. "Of course she is. One of them."

"She has more to deal with than you did," Jessica said. "Be nice."

Belle caught up to us as they shuffled me down the hallway to my bedroom. "She said she's on her way."

Jessica gave birth to me? Held me inside her body for nine months and then squirted me out into this world, all wet and sticky, a healthy baby girl? The other one... Amy? I remember Amy. My... girlfriend?

I was very, very glad to slip between the sheets of my bed. Jessica-- "Mom"-- sat next to me. I looked at her body, imagined having been inside it not long ago; and for me at the moment that span seemed like just hours, if not minutes.

I looked at her chest. Those breasts! I remember feeding from them, her holding me and cooing as this warm, sweet milk flowed into me, helping me grow into who I am now...

"You're going to not rush this," Jessica said. "Take your time. Amy and I will be right here with you through all of it. The knowledge you have now isn't going to go away; you can, and should, take your time to explore it. Otherwise you'll get overwhelmed and it'll take even longer."

I sat there, and breathed. I heard a car door slam maybe twenty minutes later, then the front door. "Where is she?". A familiar voice. Then Amy, in the room with Jessica and I, sitting next each other.

"So...?"

"Yup," Jessica said, nodding.

"Wow. Our fourth little girl is a woman," Amy said. She gave Jessica a squeeze. "We've done it."

"That and more," Jessica answered.

"How do you feel, Daisy?" Amy asked me.

Right. I'm Daisy. "Okay, I guess. But I don't know who I am, not really."

I expected one or the other to be concerned. Neither was. "Oh, honey: you're going to be just fine," Jessica answered. "You'll have it sorted out in no time. You're a brilliant girl, just like you knew you were going to be."

I'm a girl.

And I'm not a girl. And I'm Amy's and Jessica's daughter, a week from my eleventh birthday, but I'm more than that. I've been to college. Actually, I remember more than one. I know-- oh my god! I know how I've been put together, and for the first time ever I can understand... at least I think I understand... just how Jessica did it! Which means...

My "plumbing". I remember it! The bits and pieces I was able to sense: now I can see the whole plan, how my body works on the inside.

Belle is back at the door. She's like me, just older. The second human ever to be able to do what she can do, but she looks just like any other fifteen-year-old girl. I helped create her. She knows everything I know.

"And there it is," Amy said, referring to me. I was smiling and didn't know it.

"Just relax," Jessica said. "All that knowledge is there, you're just putting your own framework around it. It'll take you months before it stops seeming quite so new."

"I remember that," Amy said. "Connected to your mom, my world getting larger every minute we were together..." She put her hand on Jessica's leg.

"The hardest part," Amy continued, "will be that you need to act like an ordinary girl your age for some time, at least until we get you off to college. Your emotions and intellect are going to be ahead of your body for a while. School will seem really boring to you, but you need to follow through with that too."

I'm still on the edge of being overwhelmed. Okay, I tell myself. Daisy, you're smart. You can handle this. To settle my brain and answer a question for myself, I gave myself a challenge. Do I remember Daisy's tenth birthday?

Yes. I had Alice and Paula and Paula's sister Francine and of course my best friend Meg and we went out for bowling and ice cream and Francine got chocolate all over her new sweater and we all laughed about how her mom was going to kill her!

I have this strong impulse: exciting news to share with my friends! Only I know that I can't. Oh, okay. I can tell them that I got my period. Paula got hers almost a year ago; she's got real boobs now, leaving us to feel like little kids. We all agreed we'd tell each other when it happened to each of us. It means that I'll be second in our little group.

I'm different from them. I'm different, even, from Amy and Jessica. I looked up at the two of them.

"Wait a minute. I ovulate voluntarily?"

"Well, you will now. The first one isn't really under your control, for obvious reasons."

"What happened to... ten thousand years of female history, our relationship with the 'moon goddess' and all that?"

"Wasn't compatible with your biology. Not completely. And since we finally had an excuse to change it... a pleasant little surprise for you. Consider it a early birthday present. Most girls have to live with this every month once it starts."

I immediately reviewed my body plan. Or, at least, I wanted to: I was curious about how my body worked, and how I'd been "improved" over the previous generation. But inside me is a almost-eleven-year-old girl, and she's scared, just now finding out that she's not who she thought she was. That I'm not who I thought I was.


I just lay there for a while, Jessica and Amy at my side. Belle brought me a ginger ale and sat down in my chair; Amy headed downstairs to start dinner, and Jessica followed a few minutes later. Clarisse poked her head around the corner a moment later and Belle waved her in.

My sisters. I have sisters.

"How are you doing?" Belle asked.

"Okay, I guess... It's just so weird," I said. "Everything I look at I can see from multiple perspectives." I used Belle as an example. "I remember when you were conceived, Belle. I remember the pregnancy. I remember being pregnant with you. I remember you being born. I remember how Amy was so afraid it was going to hurt and I remember helping her from the inside so it wouldn't and this amazing feeling as you came out of me and that little face...

"And now, here you are, older than I am! And Clarisse, I remember the same for you: how proud your mothers were! Now you're in seventh grade. I'm in fifth!"

Clarisse put a hand on my leg. "Sorry I was I insensitive. We've all lived through this, Daisy. Moms did too. That day-- today for you, where you wake up and realize that you're not like everyone else."

"That's an understatement."

"I remember Belle's birth, too," Clarisse said. She pointed. "I remember that little nose up against me as she slid of the birth canal. I remember pushing her out. And I remember Alicia's birth. But you remember mine, and I don't."

"But--"

Belle got up from my chair, and sat on my bed, opposite Clarisse. "She remembers it because you did; or at least part of you did, and that memory was significant to you, and got transferred to her."

Belle motioned to Clarisse to close the door, which Clarisse did. "God, have we been waiting for this day, Daisy. Finally, we don't have to be careful around you. It's hard enough sitting in classes all day being 'taught' things that you have an advanced degree in."

"Amen to that," Clarisse said.

Belle continued. "So, sisterly tip number one: When you're back at school Monday, please, please, avoid all temptation show up your teachers. Yes, in many cases you'll know more than they do. But it undermines everything if you let on any hint of what you know. Just pretend that you're still an ordinary eleven year old girl. It won't be hard: you've had ten years of practice. And remind yourself that they're doing their best to make the world a better place."

"Homework still sucks," Clarisse added.

"It'll all change once you're off to college," Belle added.

"Why... College?" I asked. I hadn't really found an answer to that. Why spend all that money?

"Moms' policy. They want all of us to go. Each of us will study something we don't already know. Alicia's studying economics. I'm going to take political science and communications."

"I have no idea," Clarisse said.

"Alicia..." I'd seen more of Alicia's early childhood, from those multiple vantage points, than my other sisters. I miss her. I vaguely remembering tagging along, carrying pillows to her dorm room on her move-in day. "Alicia's a college freshman."

"Yeah," Clarisse said. "And she's also an assassin."

[bigmacrmuk]

Sorry for being away for so long. I have been looking at more and more records of the dark times, so have rather been lost in studying on campus recently.

Now that I've caught up (and yes, hurtling into the future like that was a seriously odd experience), I do find it amazing how this particular skill of yours has developed. Still somewhat scary, but amazing nonetheless! And I also share with Groblek the same desire to see the fantasy that was laid out played out (as it were), but I spend rather a lot of my time looking over my shoulder now, haha!