by Robin Roseau
“I’m not going to do that,” she said.
“Okay. Good. Now, what is it you’re really telling me?”
“I bet you can guess.”
“Do I know the person you spent the weekend with?”
“Possibly,” she said with a broad smile.
“It was good?”
“We were both altered. We knew the truth, but we were altered to believe we were girlfriends. New girlfriends, a few weeks, enough to be past the ‘is this happening’ stage.”
“Fucked like bunnies, did you?”
“Yep. Selena. Oh. My. God.”
I laughed. “Told ya.”
“Yes, you did. Just. Oh. My. God.”
“Was that part of the alteration?”
“No. We were clear. No fiddling with my libido or ability to appreciate. I wanted those reactions to be real.”
“She knew what you were doing?”
“Yes. We talked about it. She helped me figure that part out, actually. She said they could turn me into a horny little weasel, but that she thought that was a mistake, that I wouldn’t learn anything about myself.”
“So.”
“So, I still don’t know if I’m a lesbian, but I had a pretty awesome weekend.”
“I’m glad.”
“And that just gave me more things to think about.”
“I bet.”
“I’ve come to a few decisions.”
“Tell me.”
“I want a child, preferably a daughter.”
“There are ways to improve the odds,” I said. “Some are foolproof but of questionable ethics.”
“I wouldn’t do one of those, but I don’t have a problem with the sorting mechanisms,” she replied. “Or adoption.”
“That’s usually pretty foolproof,” I said with a smile. “When you adopt, you generally know the gender of the child.” We smirked at each other.
“Maybe we should adopt you and make you permanently 15.”
“You could propose that,” I replied. “You’d have more luck with 16.”
“Why 16?”
“And a really awesome car.”
She laughed. “Oh. I should have figured that out.”
I reached out and took her hand. “So, you still need to figure things out.”
“Yeah. I think… I don’t know. I want a daughter. Maybe two daughters. I don’t know if I want to carry one at my age. The risks.”
“Right.”
“Maybe I’ll find a younger woman. Maybe I’ll adopt. I don’t know. It’s going to take a little while to figure it out. But I wouldn’t have gotten to this point if not for you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So, going to ask me to be your girlfriend next time?”
“It would be hard for me to do better, but I think your life is complicated enough, and I think that would just be too confusing for me. Please don’t be offended.”
“I’m not.”
“Calypso and Aurora asked if we can do our event again.”
“When they come in?”
“No, I think next year.”
“I’m game. Mary doesn’t want to be seven again.”
“I’m fairly certain Mary asked to be seven.”
“Maybe. But if any of you invite her to play, I’m pretty sure she’ll agree. She might agree with terms.”
“Sixteen and an awesome car?”
“Probably not the car part. And I’m not volunteering to be seven, either. I’m flexible, but not that flexible.”
“Gotcha.”
“But if you want to see what it’s like having a real teenager, they can program me to be a sullen brat.”
She laughed. “I’ll keep that offer in mind.”
“Perfect.”
“Stay for a while?”
“Did you have something in mind?”
“Cuddle with a movie and some popcorn?”
“Perfect.”
Or Be Owned
Mary and I continued to date. Nan and Gail both had me a couple of times, and Tara took me for a weekend and a few lunch breaks.
And then the weekend of our event arrived.
I took the Friday off, and so this time, I was the one with the clipboard, greeting people as they arrived. Joy stood with me, so she provided introductions when I didn’t know someone.
Pandora arrived with Calypso and Aurora. Joy actually ran to Calypso, throwing herself into the woman’s arms. Pandora walked to me with a little more decorum, and we hugged tightly, but behind her, Joy and Calypso were both laughing, and I heard Joy call her, “Mom.”
Then they walked back, and a few more hugs were exchanged. Aurora looked at me and said, “Pandora told us that you’ve been her daughter again.”
“I have,” I said. “It was nice, and I’m hoping it continues. She tells me you want to make it an annual event.”
“That would be fabulous,” Joy declared. She bumped my arm. “You didn’t tell me. But Evie doesn’t want to be a grandmother again.”
“I could have a third daughter,” Calypso added.
“No way. That would mean I’m in an incestuous relationship with my sister,” Joy said. “She goes to Pandora or Aurora.”
We all laughed, and Aurora said she wouldn’t mind one more pretend daughter for a weekend.
We exchanged more hugs and then got them moving towards the reception desk.
* * * *
Everyone arrived, and no one pushed it to the last minute. Mary, Gail, and Nan got checked in then hung out in reception with us until it was time to head towards our first meeting room.
I was nervous. I don't think I was the only one. But I was nervous, and I’m sure it showed. But it was Joy who brought us to a stop outside the meeting room. “Form a circle,” she ordered.
And so we did, our arms around each other, not unlike a football huddle.
“Selena is nervous,” Joy said. “I think she’s afraid people won’t have a good time. Gail is nervous. I think Mary is, too.”
“I’m not nervous,” Gail said. “I’m practically quivering in anticipation, but it’s not nerves. However, I wouldn’t mind a little help calming down. I’m too excited.”
“Well, that’s good, then,” Joy said.
“I’m nervous,” Mary said. “I know what role I’m going to ask for, but I don’t know if it’s the right choice.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Joy offered.
“Not right now,” Mary said. “I’ve made up my mind, though.”
“And she refuses to tell me,” I added. “I’m not picking a role. I’ll be inserted wherever I’m needed. It will be fun regardless.”
“Fun, regardless,” Mary said. “Yes.”
“Well, I’m excited,” Nan said. “This is going to be a blast.”
“Exactly,” Joy said. “I think we should all hug one more time, and kiss, too. Lips, cheeks, whatever seems appropriate. Then we’re going to go in and work the room a minute before we get this started. I’m going to cuddle up with my Mom for a minute.” We chuckled. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
Gail pulled me to her first. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m not sure for what, just thank you.” Then she bussed me.
What amused me was that Mary pulled her from me into her own arms, and she kissed Gail before the woman could respond. Gail flailed a little, but then slowly she wrapped her arms around Mary, and it looked like a really good kiss. Nan stepped to my side and wrapped an arm around me. “Maybe I have a chance with you after all.”
I didn’t say anything to that.
Mary finally let Gail go, although they whispered for a minute first. Then Gail fanned herself.
“Going to kiss me like that?” Nan asked Mary.
“Sure am,” Mary said, stepping into her. I laughed as they kissed. Joy and Gail hugged. Then Joy and I. Then Mary grabbed me and pushed me against the wall before kissing me deeply. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it.
Then she stepped back. When I opened my eyes, s
he was looking pretty pleased with herself. “I want all of you to know, if I catch any of you, there will be more of that.” She turned to Gail. “Comments?”
Gail looked into her eyes. “If you catch me, sure.”
“Excellent,” Mary said. Then she turned and strode into the room.
Four of us watched her, and then Nan said, “I think I’ll just…” She grabbed Gail on the way, and I was left with Joy.
“Color me confused,” Joy said. “But I was pretty sure Mary was a sub. She’s a very confusing woman.”
“You thought she was a sub?”
“Well… Now I don’t know.”
“She’s a switch,” I said. “I don’t know if that was bluster, or if she put on her domme.”
“She has your trigger, doesn’t she?”
“Yep, but hasn’t used it.”
“Interesting. If that wasn’t bluster, she’s going to do some owning. Damn, that was hot.”
I laughed. “Sure was. Ready?”
“Ready.”
We stepped forward.
* * * *
We worked the room. Joy did, indeed, sit down in Calypso’s lap. I moved about, touching everyone, some quite simply, but leaving at least a little touch on an arm. I offered a few kisses, simple kisses, and shared whispers, and then I headed for the center. Evie and Joy joined me, and I lifted my hand.
They quieted down. “You’ve all been assigned a seat, so if you’ll take your places. Evie, Joy, and I will help you out.”
No one really needed help, but we moved about, making sure everyone was good, and then we returned to the center. “Welcome to Own or Be Owned. We’re going to have a great weekend!”
They cheered for that, and I allowed a little smack talk.
“All right. Some of you know this; some of you don’t. We’re all going to be Altered. You aren’t going to remember a thing I’m about to say.”
“I could never forget a word you say,” Pandora yelled.
“Right. Our event is a science fiction theme, first contact. Some percentage of us will be space aliens. In a few minutes, we’re all going to zone out, and the friendly voices will be asking a variety of questions and then playing with our brains. One of the questions you’ll be asked is whether you want to be human or alien. I don’t know if they’ll ask more than that. They may give you the choice of saying you want to be the same as someone else here, or the opposite from someone here. There’s no promise you’ll get any of your wishes. I think you all recognize that.”
“We’ll be hot space aliens, right?” said Tania, one of Evie’s friends.
I laughed. “Those of us who are space aliens will undoubtedly be hot.”
“I’m only here because Evie promised me the aliens would be hot. And green.
“I’m not promising green. I think someone else here asked for pink.”
“That was me,” yelled Paityn, another of Evie’s friends. “But it was fuschia, not just pink.”
“I’m sorry, Paityn,” I replied. “But I think you’re going to be disappointed by that. However, that’s a detail I don’t know. I guess we’re going to find out.”
“Drat,” Paityn replied. “’Cause I always wanted to own me some pink alien piece of fluff.”
“I’m not going to be a pink piece of fluff,” Tania said. “But you could be.”
We laughed, but then I held my hand up. “We could talk smack for an hour, and that would be fun, but I want to get into it. However, I’m glad everyone came to have fun. I want to thank Evie and Joy for the work they put into making this event happen. They’ve done their part, so they’ll be participating along with the rest of us, and I’m assured they haven’t been given any particular advantages.”
“We’ll be on opposite teams,” Evie said. “And fitted into the scenario in some sort of ancillary roles.”
“I have specifically said I do not want a lead command position,” I added. “I may find myself to be a janitor or some other underling.”
“You can be under me!”
“I heard that, Tiffany,” Mary yelled back. “Get in line.”
“All right,” I said. I turned to Evie and Joy and hugged each of them. “Thank you,” I said loudly. “And thank you to Altered Events.”
“We’re happy to have all of you,” Joy said. “Selena, thank you for this opportunity. We don’t often get to do what we’ve done for this event, and then to be able to participate as well is special for us. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I turned around. “If there are questions? Otherwise I’m going to take my seat.”
“You don’t know what color the aliens are going to be?”
“Sorry, Tania,” I answered. “I think they’re furries.”
“Furries?” Several people laughed.
“Scales!” There was more laughter.
“Snakes,” someone else said. “Why did it have to be snakes?”
“Snakes are cool,” Gail said. “If the aliens are snakes, I definitely want to be an alien.”
“Well, I don’t know what they are, and I want to find out in the event, so you can conjecture all you want. Any questions I might answer?”
“If we’re snakes, do we get especially long tongues?”
I shook my head and headed for my seat.
* * * *
We zoned out. I know they asked us questions, and I think I know what a few of those questions were. I know what I intended to answer.
Do you wish to be human or alien? I intended to say I’d take whatever role the event needs me to take. Did I say that? I have no idea.
Do you wish a command role? I intended to say no. Did I say that? I don’t know.
Do you know whether you wish a particular outcome for yourself? I didn’t, at least not consciously.
I knew there would be other questions. I don’t know how I answered any of them.
When next I became aware, I was standing in my quarters. My reality was changed, and I didn’t remember any of my past, real life.
I was Lieutenant-Commander Selena Stark of the United Human Federation colony ship Artemis, in orbit over a planet revolving around a star that had previously only been known by a seven-digit number. As with all colony ships to stars without an official name, it was agreed the colonists would name our new world once we had arrived.
Many names had been proposed. Some wanted to name the planet simply, New Home. New Earth was popular. Some people suggested the same names, but in other languages. A few had suggested we name the planet after our expeditionary leader, Admiral Calypso Madden. Some suggested Calypso. Some suggested Madden’s World. The Admiral had stayed out of the discussions for a while but then had stepped in. “No. We have many places to name, many, many places. I would like my name used for a particularly lovely lake, and I want a nice piece of land on the side of the lake where I will eventually make my home. I do not believe we should name our new home after any single one of us, but there will be many places for us to each name.”
And so, our new home carried no name, only a number.
It was when we settled into orbit that things changed. Interstellar travel is slow, even at near-light speed. To us, the trip had seemed like five years, with a year at each end being spent in the departure from Sol system and the entrance into the new system. In between, our time had been spent at relativistic speeds, 74 light years traveled in what felt like 3 years to us, but was really 77 years, or 79, if you count the entire trip, in total.
Ah, time dilation when traveling at nearly the speed of light.
But we had arrived, and then we’d spent a year before finally the Admiral announced to the entire ship, “We have reached stable orbit.”
I believe everyone on the ship who wasn’t otherwise assigned to duties had found one of the observation ports, staring down at our new home, wondering what the future would bring us. But it was the Admiral’s own daughter, Joy, who had given us the name. She had said quite simply, “It’s a vision.”
“A
vision,” others repeated. “It’s a vision.”
“That’s the name,” someone had said. “Vision. That’s our new home. Vision.” A chant had begun, slowly picked up throughout the ship.
I’d been on duty, and it was one of my coworkers who had flipped on one of the ship intercoms, and I’d heard a thousand voices, four thousand voices saying, “Vision. Vision. Vision.”
Joy was lauded a hero of our expedition, and a campaign immediately began to name the star, “Joy’s Star.” She herself squashed it, saying, “I’ve offered a name.”
We ignored her, but we named the star Joyous. Joy cried when, again, four thousand voices chanted, “Joyous, Joyous,” but she relented, and we had the two most important names for our new home.
We sent messages back home, to Earth, messages that would take 74 years to arrive. We had arrived, parked over the planet named Vision, circling a star named Joyous.
From there, we had undertaken expeditions, several to each of the 5 moons circling our new home. We sent probes back out-system to look for useful asteroids. Like Sol system, Joyous had an asteroid belt. Unlike in movies, asteroid belts do not contain hundreds of asteroids in close proximity. There could be a half million miles between two small stones. It wasn’t a planetary ring, after all. For now, we were simply mapping the asteroids, but eventually we could harvest them for raw materials. In a few hundred years.
Most of our expeditions, of course, were to the planet’s surface. Vision was a living world, full of life. Plant life. We hadn’t come blind. Unmanned probes had been sent to all the Earth-like worlds we’d discovered, although Vision had been the furthest. We had known to expect life. But it was surprising to us to find no animal life, even though we’d known to expect it.
No insects. No fish. No birds.
And so far, at least, nothing inimical to humans.
We had gone all in. Oh, we’d been somewhat cautious. But we didn’t set up a ten-year quarantine for anyone who traveled to the surface, waiting to see if they began to suffer ill effects. Instead, it had been three weeks.
If we were already dead, and didn’t know it, well, we didn’t know it.
I had led my share of those expeditions, including the first. I was a lowly lieutenant-commander. Translation: expendable.
I had led the first expedition, and I believed in leading from the front, which means I was the first to descend from our orbital lander. My booted feet were the first to step upon our new home, a landing along the shore of a lake.