In the slant light of the late afternoon, dust motes drift lightly on the turbulent currents of air. Winking in and out of sight like stars in the sky. Tiny worlds that exist for a moment in time to be lost in shadow. The capricious turns of invisible forces dictate the fate of each individual atom. Predictable in general, though chaos for the single. Dust inside the home is largely the shed flakes of skin from the humans that inhabit the space. The Carbon of which it is composed, is the cast off dust of dead stars. The Universe, energy and matter, compacted into the tiny bedroom. A cool breeze comes through the open window disturbing the stuffy air. The light drapes made to flap with a soft rustle. Outside the world buzzes and hums with life going on as it does.
A hand rises from the bed trying to capture the dust motes stirred up by the breeze. The motion of the hand pushes the dust around more making the effort futile. The light captures the hand reflecting off its smooth surface. Something of the hand looks wrong. The surface is too smooth, too shiny and it makes the odd sound of rubber squeaking as the fingers stretch and flex. A second hand rises to inspect the first. This hand, too, is a shade of pink or peach and looks to be made of smooth plastic. The two hands wring together exploring the rubber shine.
A Body rises from the bed for a closer inspection. Thin sheets slide from the Body to pool in its lap. The Body shivers, not from chill but at the delight of being touched. The friction of fabric over Body draws the attention of the Mind. It tries to reason why the touch of soft cotton feels so pleasurable.
Shiny arms fold over the Body making rubbery popping sounds. The hands explore the surface of the Body finding that the elastic material covers the entirety. The Body wiggles trying to define the feeling of an existence defined by pliable latex. Its only conclusion is one of delightful sensation. Everything feels new and fresh. The bounce of the large breasts, the wobble of the overly large ass were all new. The Body tries to work itself deeper into the soft sheets delighting in the overwhelming pleasure as its smooth skin slides over the mussed fabric.
The Mind is not so sure of the Body’s conclusion. The shape of the body does not conform to the Mind’s memory of the Body prior to this moment. The breasts are too large, too round, too light. The whole of the body feels like a thick walled balloon filled with air. The Mind could not reason how the Body could move with only air to fill the space it occupied. Still the Body enjoys the rippling of rubber skin against rubber skin.
The Mind traces back from this moment in time to try and find a point in the past when the body better approximated the memory of how it should have been. Back and back and further still, the Mind searches. The past, a series of moments link together like a chain from the present to the past. Unbroken, except for one moment. The mind stops considering the discontinuity. A gap in time of which it had no memory. A moment when the Mind did not know of its existence. It has to look further back.
It finds a time, just before the discontinuity. There were lights and sounds blaring and filling the senses. A panic rising in the Body. The tingle of electrical sparks arcing from the hairs on the arms. The pounding of the heart. Then an explosion of energy and then darkness. The Body reacts to the memory hugging itself more tightly. A hand cups the bare nipple and a flood of pleasure triggers the Mind of a memory of a different time.
The Sun is bright and the grass is still damp in the morning. There is a hand on a breast, and some lips on a neck. The motion of the lips and the hand working to make the owner of the breast to sigh in delight. The fingers trace gentle patterns over the soft mound. The breast presses into the hand offering more of itself to the owner of the hand.
A voice speaks, masculine if still young, “Do you like that?”
A second voice responds, feminine and mature, “Don’t stop.”
“I can’t go on.”
The hand retreats and the breast is left dewed with sweat. The skin soon cools uncomfortably fast. But deep down, the fire of passion still burns bright. Like a natal world, the Body is molten inside and cool on the surface to await the coming of life and love. The Mind reacts with disappointment at having to continue to wait.
The Mind shrugs off the memory, finding it unhelpful to its current situation.
Rising from the bed the nude Body stumbles on hollow rubbery legs. The hands that inspect find that the thighs are much the same as the breasts; air filled bladders made of shiny rubber. The knees are stiff and hard to bend. The feet are solid, heavy rubber cast as a doll’s with toes all merged. The foot is arched with the heels raised from the floor. After a few halting unsteady steps the Body learns quickly how to move with grace. The long legs carry the Body to the dresser where a mirror can give the Mind a better look at itself in total.
The Mind finds the body unfamiliar and new. The curves and the shine are as flawless as a plastic doll fresh from the mold. The eyes rise up the body looking for anything the Mind might recognize. Latex hands part the mess of tousled dark brown hair to reveal a face. The Mind starts. The face is like that of one it knew from the past.
The same face looks into a mirror fighting back tears as it appraises a very different body.
“Why am I not attractive?” the young female voice asks. It is the same voice from before but the tenor seems wrong. The time and the emotion have altered the voice to make it different.
“Don’t worry about your looks,” a second voice says. This one is older and female and familiar. “You have a better mind.”
“What good is a great mind without a body? No one can see my mind. I wish I were attractive.”
“You are still young. A good mind lasts longer than a good body. In time, you will come to appreciate that.”
There is a sound of movement in the home outside of the bedroom; a cough and the creaking of a chair. Following that, come the muted sounds of conversation. The Mind wants to find the source of the other sounds. The Body moves as silently down the short hallway as it could. It could do nothing to stop its rubbery skin from snapping and popping as limbs rub against each other. The Mind drifts observing the surroundings looking for something familiar.
The large common room is deep in shadow as the evening sunlight starts to wane. A smell of food permeates the space; spicy and hearty. The Mind notes the scent and remembers the purpose of food. It could call up countless times that food had been needed, wanted and shared. It touches the Body finding that food did not arouse a sense of need. The Body finds something it seemed to want seated in the chair before a computer.
A young man reclines in the chair. The man is shirtless due to the high temperature of the day, only now starting to ebb. His muscles are tight and lean, attractive if unrefined. The man brushes some hair from his face leaving it wavy and fashionably mopish. Everything of the man is familiar to the Mind and Body although both find it difficult to place a name to this being. In fear of being discovered, the Body hides against the wall in the shadow just outside of the room.
“She’s fine, all things considered. I can’t understand how she is not dead. Radiation exposure, and all that. The transformation is just mind boggling. We need to have her examined by a biologist.” The man talks into a small microphone clipped to his ear. He rubs his eyes in a motion that indicates he is exhausted.
“Dr. Norman wants to keep this as quiet as possible. Top secret. So, no outside consultations. As far as anyone can know, the delays in the project are all technical.” The second voice erupts from the blue screen of the computer. It too seems familiar; young, intelligent, with a slight foreign accent. “Can you find any explanation to why she has taken the form she has?”
“No. Perhaps it has something to do with matrix synthesis interpolation. You know, like one body imposed over the other finding a common middle. But then, I am just throwing terms around without knowing anything.” The man in the room breathes a long sigh. “Really, this is some mad-scientist shit. If the world knew what we have done … I can’t believe no one has come looking for her yet.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the stern voice says from the computer. “Normal says he can delay any snooping parties until we come up with a good explanation. Or reverse it.”
“That worries me more than you might think.”
“I know,” there is a long pause. “What have you discovered from her?”
“Nothing,” the man says, sipping from a cup. “She does not talk to me. Does not breathe or eat or drink. I don’t know where she gets her energy from. She is light, as if weightless. Her mind is there, though. Trapped in that body. Self-awareness comes and goes. It is like she keeps resetting. When she figures out what has happened she … well, she has needs.”
There is a little chuckle from the computer. “Aren’t you glad you offered to take her home after the hospital?”
“Jerk. Her body is oddly nice to look at though. Imagine if we had sent something else through first instead.”
“You are taking lots of pics, right? Got to document the changes for publication. Send me some if you have time.”
“Perv,” says the man in the room. “Any time you want to change roles let me know. I would gladly take a break and decompile code for you. What have you found on that front?”
“Nothing conclusive. There is no reason for the programmed cycle to have continued after the power failure. Someone must have done something deliberate.”
The conversation becomes largely technical after that.
The Mind is bored by the mathematical explanations. Although, it does wonder what other person they were talking about.
The Body slinks away and soon finds itself in a cold room made with hard surfaces. Warm water falls from the sprinkler, breaking into a fine mist as it meets the impervious elastic skin. Soap and motion scrub clean the sticky remnants of another body. One that had been engaged in sweaty, close action. The Body’s hands explore as they clean. Delight exists on every square inch of the rubber body.
Meanwhile the Mind traces the edge of the missing moment in time. The one where everything before seemed to have no bearing on everything that comes after. The Mind could follow the flow of its thoughts. It could trace the world-lines of its atoms. It could see how matter reacted to the forces imposed upon it. Like a body that bends under the touch of a lover, the matter could be changed by the imposing will of a strong mind. Tracing back the history of the Body’s atoms, the Mind could drift beyond the gap in time. The place of emptiness. Dark and still when the Mind was nowhere. No Body to contain it. No matter to limit it. Freedom.
La petite mort.
The Body shivers at the memory of that time. The Mind is gone. Time seems to stand still. The light goes out. Energy sparks around the body raising every little hair into antennae feeling space press close around it. Strong magnetic fields polarize the water atoms inside the Body, lifting it free from the gravity of the planet. With no Mind, the Body could not move, could not react. It could feel the atoms of itself being twisted out of reality and then back again.
The Mind returns from a trillion year journey to the start of the Universe and back again. Changed. It finds the Body in a different place at a different time. It takes control again of this clump of matter, in the shape of a person. A mass of atoms with a name.
Amy More comes back, blinking away the hot water that stings at her eyes. She is drowning. She throws up the water that clogs her throat. The water splashes on the enamel surface around her feet. Amy stumbles from the shower on wobbly legs. She can see her body restored in the mirror, flesh and bone and shaped as it should be; stubby legs, thin rectangle frame, flat chest. In shame she wraps a towel around her body before collapsing on the tile floor. Curling into a ball, Amy tries to remember the chain of events that had led her to being trapped in the chamber.
In the last year of high-school, she had gone to her chemistry class early, feeling alone and empty. Her teacher had been there. Mr. Very gives her a smile and asks how Amy is. She could remember the tears. The heartache and the shame of feeling so bad about a silly boy.
His voice is a deep, crackling baritone tinged with cigarette smoke. But his eyes are bright blue behind fashionable frames. His beard is flecked with grey. He appraises her with paternalistic grace patting her hand with kindness. “You have a unique mind, Miss More. One that should not be wasted on trivial things like heartache and body image.”
Amy had loved science from that moment forward. She devoted herself to learning, giving up on all the girlish things in life.
In university, she found acceptance by those teaching. Eschewing the social life of her fellows, she excelled in her studies. Amy remembers being noticed by her physics professor, Dr. Kind. His passion for teaching becomes infectious. She regards him as a mentor and soon takes a position as his teacher’s assistant. He gives her nothing but encouragement. In his office, before her first prep class, he wraps his arm around her shoulders in a chummy hug.
“You already know more than they do, Miss More,” Dr. Kind drawls in his distinct Southern patois. “Don’t let these boys intimidate you just because they are a little older. Show them what you know and they will listen.”
Amy had stood tall before the older students because of that. What she knew being more important than what she looked like.
Later, Dr. Normal had hand picked her from a pile of applicants to be on his research team. His charm and good looks matching his keen intellect drove the project forward. A small team and close quarters had made it so she could become close to the young genius. He would give her smiles and encourage her in the work she did. Dr. Normal could see into her mind and draw out the best. Even the impossible seemed within their grasp.
“How does it look up there?” he calls to Amy as she traces circuits of wires on one of the two chambers.
“A mess,” she calls down.
The ladder wobbles as she reaches with the probe. A set of strong hands take hold to steady it. Amy looks down into the thoughtful eyes of Dr. Normal. She offers a wry smile as a way of thanks. The laboratory is empty except for them. Alone, she might have fallen and been hurt badly.
“Do you know why I chose you to be on this project, Amy?” he says looking up at her thin frame.
“Because of my thesis on higher-order folds in multi-phase spatial membranes?” she guesses.
“No,” he says laughing. “Anyone can do the maths or pull wires, Amy.” His hand moves from the ladder to her calf. Manly fingers stroke womanly skin. “But not many physicists can do it while looking quite as sexy as you do.”
In an instant he changed from the older Dr. Normal, a scientist with a first rate mind, into a youngish man with a squared jaw and hungry eyes. Amy felt a thrill go through her body. She came down the ladder quickly only to come quickly up in his office.
Amy rises from the floor. She uses the towel to wipe away the dew fogging the mirror. Her body is that of a sorry looking young woman. One that had spent her time reading and studying rather than taking care of herself. It is thin and weak where it could have been strong. It is flabby and flat where others might not have liked. Her face is furrowed where worry and thought had made an impression. Amy is naked and shivers at the memory of how she had denied her body in favour of her mind until she had let herself be abused by an immoral man.
She finds a comb and starts to untangle the threads of her hair. The limp, dark brown strands pull at her scalp as cold water drips into the sink. Her mind feels like it too is pulling at the strings of her life; untangling the past. If only she could go back and change this or that then she might have been happy with herself.
On that blanket in the woods where her first boyfriend had dumped her, Amy finds the start of her hatred for her own body.
“I can’t,” he is saying as he rolls from her young body.
“Why?” she says with worry on her face.
“I told Brenda that I would break it off with you first.” He starts to pack things up into his bag.
“Brenda? Break-up?” she says in confusion as the Sun dries the sweat on her naked top. Tiny nubs of breasts pointing up to the sky.
He looks at her then looks away in shame. He tosses her top to her to cover up. “I did not mean to lead you on today. But I want to start dating her instead.”
“Why? She is such a ditz,” Amy says tugging the tight top over her frame. She thinks of the other girl with her bright blond hair and constant smile. Brenda had a big butt and bouncing boobs. She wore low cut tops and tights. Amy hated the girl in an instant because she could not compete with a body like that.
Amy did not wait for a response from the boy. She had run away with tears in her eyes leaving her needless bra behind in the woods.
A week later, Amy is trying on the silk bride’s maid dress while her sister is laying on the bed. The wedding is coming fast and Amy no longer has a date. The dress hangs limp on her straight frame. She tries to tug it this way and that hoping to make it look like she had hips. Nothing helps.
“Don’t worry about it,” her big sister says as a way of consoling her. “You have a great mind. In a few years you won’t even remember his name.”
“But no one can see my mind. I will always be a thin, unloved freak.” Amy starts to tear up at the thought. The pictures would show her to be just a little girl, awkward and un-lovely beside her radiant newly married sister. They were so unlike as to almost seem unrelated. Amy curses the universe for dealing her such a bad hand.
Her sister just laughs. What nature did not give, make-up could fake. She shows Amy how to stuff a bra and use gloss to make her lips look bigger. Amy feels silly. She laughs along not showing the pain she actually felt.
“Won’t guys be intimidated when they find out how much smarter I am? And won’t they care when they find out how fake this is?” Amy gestures at her stuffed bra.
“They won’t care if they love you. Those that do are not worth thinking about. When you find the right one, you will know. Until then, just be happy with yourself.”
But Amy is not so sure. She feels that life to be a cheat. She hefts the tissue filled bra. She can feel the rough paper scratch at her nipples. Her mind tries to force her to believe the curve of her dress. To make them real. Matter is just condensed energy. It walks and talks at the energy of the mind. She tries to focus. She can feel the universe responding.
Amy draws energy from the world around her. She can feel it sparkling up her arms making the tiny hairs stand on end. Pushing with her mind she can make the tissues change shape. Her breasts swell and fill the dress. The red wine silk stretches around her body gently caressing her skin. She keeps going, making her breasts larger and larger. They soon spill from the neck line forming deep cleavage. Amy changes the dress to fit around the mounds and cup them with soft fabric. She makes her breasts bigger than Brenda’s and makes them stand high and bouncy on her body.
Looking at her face, Amy swells her lips to make them look better. She turns her limp brown hair into a platinum blonde. It grows down her body until it touches her butt. Amy would have it tied up to crown her head in golden curls. She would no longer be seen as a young girl. With this body she could make that boy envious to have let her go.
In the cold bathroom, Amy finds her body, altered in the past, continues into the present. She adjusts the towel around her bulging breasts. Retying it around her body to let the mounds hang free. Her hair is long and golden and perfectly smooth down her back. She drops the comb finding it no longer needed.
She leans in close to find her face altered. Her mouth is full and swollen. The lips are tinged a deep pink and the skin is tight. She would like them to have a better gloss and with her mind she is able to adjust the flesh. The colour turns soft pink and shines like plastic. She smiles, her lush lips feeling how they move with delight. Her eyes, she turns sparkling green. Her cheeks become flush with colour. She touches her eyes, lids and lashes, making them magazine-cover ready.
With a giggle Amy realises she had been competing all this time with a ditzy high-school floozy. The blonde locks fade to a deep red, almost red. She shapes her hair with her mind into that of a straight cut bob. Straight bangs with long sides that frame her face enticingly. In seconds, Amy recreates herself as an ingénue; mysterious and sophisticated. She strokes her pale skin with dark lacquered nails.
The sort of woman that could entice anyone. Mr. Very thought so. He had stopped short, coming into the chemistry lab to find her already there. In a barely professional way he asks, “Trying something new with your hair, Miss More?”
There were rumours about Mr. Very. Things he was likely to do while chaperoning the groups of students on a Europe trip. Drinking and smoking and a teacher becoming more of a friend than a teacher. Amy suspected the rumours were true. Something in the way his eyes twinkle while looking at her. She had to test her theory to be sure, as a good scientist should.
“More or less,” Amy says with a purse of her lips. “Do you like it, Mr. Very?”
He waffles in a reply letting his glasses glint in the light. Class would be starting soon and he could do nothing that might be seen. Later though, after school when he finds her by his car in the empty parking lot he is not so careful. At the end of the year, he chose to take early retirement rather than fight the rumours that would swirl about the two of them.
Amy smiles thinking about her first and best teacher. She had learned a lot from Mr. Very.
She would learn a lot from Dr. Kind, too. His sense of chivalry flares as he tries to protect the vulnerable Amy from the chauvinism of his science. In his office, he would lecture on the shame he feels about how she is treated by the other males. Amy adjusts her body to seem small and meek in his arms as she trembles. Her long thin limbs seem too frail to protect herself.
The kind doctor stands and rages at the ungentlemanly actions of others. “Why, I can not allow this sort of behaviour to stand, Miss More. I should go with you and should any man ill-treat you, why I will lay him out in two seconds.”
“Oh, Doctor, I shouldn’t think that would be necessary,” the meek Amy says, fanning at her blush on alabaster skin. This show of manliness touches something deep in her body.
“Do you really think you can tame these wild boys without my help, Miss?” Dr. Kind says, seating himself at her side and taking her hands.
“More or less,” she says, giving him a look with wide water filled eyes.
He gives her hands a kiss as a pledge of support. She gives her body to him as a show of thanks.
The room of physics students were all men. Each one keen and intelligent. Not a single one would give Amy any room to be vulnerable. She felt the need to become another woman. Altering her height she towers over them on high heels and long legs. Severe clothing wraps around her large breasts and shapely behind. A fine silk shirt and tight skirt does a lot to keep a man’s attention.
Turning from the board, Amy adjusts her glasses scowling at the blank stares. In the front row off to the left side, Amy finds one smiling young man. Her wore his wavy hair in a foppish style and is lightly muscular. She fixes him with a stern look and purses her plush dark lips.
“Mr. Devon, do you understand how I found the solution to this problem?” Her voice is stern and smoky. She tries to sound like a wise older woman.
“More or less,” he says, keeping his eyes on her face.
Amy strides to stand in front of his desk. Her heels clip sharply on the hard floor like the claws of a vicious beast. She leans over deeply, placing her hand on the edge of his writing surface. This posture gives him a chance to look down her top at her milky breasts. His eyes do not waver from her face.
“Which is it?” she asks with a little huff.
“Less,” he replies with a little blush.
“Perhaps you should stick around after class for some more instruction. I can show you a little something.”
The bells ring out loudly ending the class. Devon would get more than a little instruction.
An altered Amy leaves the bathroom. On long legs she strides back to the dark room with the other man. Her large breasts rest on his neck as a way of greeting. He nearly jumps from the seat at the sudden nudge by fleshy lumps. He turns his head enough to find a large, erect nipple nearly poking his eye. Amy nearly laughs when this time he does leap from the chair to get away from her.
He stammers in a way that she finds not entirely humbling. She likes that her body has this effect on him. “Amy? Is this you, now? I mean are you, you again?”
Amy smiles and nods. “More or less,” she says playfully. It seemed strange to call a lump of atoms anything as imprecise as a something like ‘Amy’. Her expanded mind plays around with the topic as her body advances on the man. She recognizes his smell from their time in the bedroom. His body as familiar as her own. She can reach out with her desire to tickle his nerves and make him respond to her. She does this just for fun, making him grow hard and stiff.
The man moves around the room turning on lights to push back the darkness. He seems to rationalise his sudden arousal as an after effect of their lovemaking. He tries to hide his stiff member from his fellow scientist. “Do you remember me? I mean, what can you remember? Can you tell me what happened in the chamber? What was it like to be teleported?”
The questions are coming too fast. Amy waves them away with a hand. She strokes her body feeling entirely above the petty qualms of what happened to her. How could she explain to this simple man, this clump of atoms called ‘Adam’, what it meant to have your Mind spread over the entirety of the universe. To be able to make the atoms dance and move to her own thoughts. “I remember everything, Adam.” Her voice vibrates with his body tickling his brain with desire. “It was Dr. Normal who did it. Although, maybe I did it to myself, too.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, looking at the computer. He fiddles trying to start a recording of the conversation.
Amy can feel the photons from the lights falling on her skin. The energy filling her body with power. It wants to radiate from her like from the surface of a star. She uses the energy to make her skin turn glossy and slick. The latex spreads across her body slowly, to enhance the feeling of becoming something other than a simple human. Amy runs her hands over her body hearing the squeaks grow louder. Her body lightens as it becomes filled with air.
She tries to answer. She wants to tell him about how Dr. Normal touched her body. How he saw the woman she was along with the great mind she possessed. How she gave her body to him. How Normal used her and how he planned to steal her work as his own. The impossible dream of matter teleportation could be achieved and he planned to be the genius that did it. Normal had taken her to his beach house. They had screwed on the sand, frolicked in the pool, and fucked in his bed. She had worked out the equations and the solutions to folding space. He took them and promised her the world in exchange.
Instead, when they had returned to the lab, she found him to be lying. The rumours had swirled around her. The others had looked down on her as just a floozy trying to further her career by sleeping to the top. They said horrible things about her, about her body and the way she used it to control men. They called her names, sometimes to her face. She remembers them all: Sweet-cheeks, Busty, Scientist Barbie, Slut, and worst of all Air-head.
Amy advances on the man, her voluminous curves jiggling as she takes short stiff steps. Her inflated lips have difficulty forming words. she can feel the breath failing as her lugs are written out of existence for the moment. “I have a vast mind now. I can go back and rewrite the past if I want. Maybe I already did and this is what I want to happen.” Amy’s body continues to swell and change making her more and more a rubber bubble of raw sexual purpose. “Adam?”
“Yes?” he asks as the doll-woman finally places a light lates hand on his bare chest. It takes all his will to keep his hand off her. He needs to get the truth if there could be any hope of turning her back to a normal human.
The Body kisses at the man before it. Locking its soft lips to his. It can feel his tongue probe her smooth and welcoming mouth. The Body flicks at his pants and they disappear into the ether like a gas dispersing in a wind. His massive shaft rises hard and waiting. The Body lifts itself onto the peg, altering its rubber folds to envelope and hold him there. Adam’s hands stroke her body with needy abandon. They find her latex skin pliable and responsive. Soon, the Body and the Man give in to building pleasure. The pair fall lightly to the soft sofa cushions.
The Mind dwells on the past.
The night before the big reveal to the world. All the tests had gone well and now the assembled team of scientists and engineers were drinking and having fun. Dr. Normal is giving a sloppy speech extolling the contributions of each member. Except for Amy. She stands at the back beside an equally sullen Adam. A growing sense of anger filling her contained only barely.
“And we can’t forget the indisputable contributions from our beloved doll, err I mean colleague, Amy More. The first person to travel through the teleportation machine. Come on up here, Amy!” Dr. Normal laughs loudly with the others.
He waves his hand off to the side. A tech steps from behind a curtained space hugging something to his hip. He stands it on the stage beside Dr. Normal holding it steady. The inflated sex doll bounces on tube-like legs. Someone had glued a shitty wig on the doll’s head that vaguely echoed Amy’s own hair. The large balloon breasts were covered in a thin white t-shirt with the name ‘Amy’ written across it with black marker. The crowd breaks into raucous laughter. Normal takes the doll and shuts it inside the chamber. He then comically turns to a fake switch. On the count of three he closes the connection.
Whatever the actual conclusion to jest was intended to be no one would learn. There is a spark. A bang. Then smoke and flame spill from the machine as the superconducting magnets hum and buzz with sudden energy. Alarms sound and the laboratory empties to escape the uncontrolled release of radiation.
There is an inquisition. Normal is given a dressing down for gross misconduct. He would not be dismissed. The university needed their charismatic genius to keep pulling in money. In the end the lab is cleaned and made safe again. He did not know how, but he suspected Amy of being the cause. He forces her to decontaminate the chamber as punishment.
Amy scrubs away melted vinyl from the plasma stained metal platform. The doll had disappeared leaving only the memory of its passing on the world. That is when the energy is restored to the machine. A computer starts to cycle through a program. The chamber’s hatch closes and locks with the woman inside. She can feel the charge building in the field as it energises. Her body arching as the magnets threaten to tear her atom from atom.
Adam is stunned from his work laying on the inflated rubber body of his colleague. “Amy? Wha’sit?”
The Body aches as the orgasm floods it with pleasure. The Mind fixes the Man with a lust filled gaze. It can trace Adam’s world-line as easily as her own. It could nudge him this way and that. Remake him from the atoms up. It would be as easy as editing a paper on the computer. The Mind could make the Man desire the Body above anything else. His ideal could conform to the Mind’s ideal.
It did not need to. The Body already filled his fantasy.
“Do you love me?” the Mind makes the Body say.
He smiles. His hips say as much as his mouth.
Amy lays back letting him use her rubber body to find the animal happiness of a limited mind. In time she would tell him what she had become. She would tell him how she had created herself. She would reward his love by making him a partner. She foresaw it happening as sure as she could remember the past.
But for now she allows herself to be used as a sex doll.
More or less.