Sometimes aliens can be so stupid.
She still didn't understand the point of the seran-wrap. Maybe they'd just been horny little buggers who'd liked the effect. Samantha certainly couldn't throw stones. There was no denying that she got a kick out of her work. Nor did she understand even now what the point of that night had been. But it was a night that had changed her life forever.
Samantha had been cursed at birth by being an intelligent girl born into a family she came, by her teen years, to consider "white trash." She made no apologies for her judgments. She was the one who had to live with them. Her father was a construction worker, and her mother was a stripper until marriage. A few years later, tired of her husband's bitching, she finally got a job as a waitress, reducing the home-life of Samantha and Jeannie, her elder sister, to a perpetual bitching contest as her parents tried to work out which of them had been punished more by life. Jeannie, who was two years older than Samantha, didn't fallen far from the tree, a bubbleheaded blonde whose idea of achievement was to get guys into a knife-fight over her. At seventeen she climbed up behind her biker boyfriend and rode off never to be seen again. Samantha's way of coping with her life had been instead to lock herself in her room with books. When she was old enough she began spending most of her time at the library. She was the school nerd and, by eighteen, slated as valedictorian. The yearbook staff sarcastically voted her "most likely to succeed and not enjoy one minute of it."
Samantha managed to get a scholarship into a local college, but she knew she'd need pocket money, so she took to tutoring students. Lizzie might not have been the stupidest of them, but she was definitely the most audacious, showing up that night with her cheerleader's uniform and a pathetic desperation born of twelve years of goofing around. Samantha felt like telling her to go to hell - she felt like telling them all to go to hell - but she really did need the money. And so the hours began ticking away with them alone in the house. Samantha tried to tell herself that she couldn't care less what kept Lizzie at the hopeless mathematical task hour after hour, but the truth was she had a little intellectual curiosity as to why this girl who didn't seem to give a shit about anything except fucking and popularity was honestly, at the last minute, trying so hard to pass her math class. Samantha attributed it to poor planning and the sheer inability to believe that for once she wasn't going to get by with her tight sweater and short skirt. "What's the matter?" she sneered. "Didn't the first row, lean-back, pink-panty-shots work on Mrs. Frumkin?" Lizzie didn't really appreciate that remark. Samantha didn't really give a shit.
The hours ticked away as Lizzie, to her credit, focused her tiny mind on the task of learning enough algebra to "get by." What really pissed Samantha off was Lizzie's presumption that she was jealous of the big-boobed blonde and her boyfriend, the football team. Samantha couldn't give a rat's ass about the sort of hormonal pursuits that made up Lizzie's life. Or so she told herself. But the truth was that her teenage years had been hell, as she'd slowly come to realize that she was going to be the flat-chested sister of a bimbo. Jeannie had sometimes even brought boys back to the house, and the only way that Samantha could get to sleep sometimes had been to put her hands to her ears to block out the muffled moans coming through the wall. So as her tutoring session with Lizzie droned on into the night, she found herself reminded more and more of her sister, of Lizzie's more upscale life as cheerleader captain, of how the whole damn fucking world was open to that bimbo just because she had big mammaries and was too stupid to be made miserable by her intelligence. Samantha hated herself for the realization that she would have traded everything to be Lizzie. Intelligence was a curse. If she'd learned anything in this house she'd learned that. But it was all she had, and it was her ticket out of this dump. Samantha's saner self wanted to be anything but her mother.
So she contented herself with the realization that she was going to major in mathematics and go on to great things after college, and that by now her twenty-one year-old sister was probably stuck in some dumpy town halfway around the country, married to some total asshole, with two kids and another on the way, all of them likely stupified by alcohol-soaked pregnancies. Lizzie's world was, after all, ephemeral. These high school prima dona queens sunk fast and hard. All this misery was going to pay off for Samantha. If she had nothing else, she'd have money... and lots of it.
Samantha wanted to kick Lizzie out of the house, but the brainless bimbo didn't have the good sense to give up and go, and the flat-chested redhead was going to soak her for all she was worth. Lizzie was paying by the hour, though it was money down the drain. Samantha wept no tears over that. Why should Lizzie be born with so much and she so little? With Lizzie's resources, Samantha could have picked her college, rather than targeting the local mediocre one which would pay for her classes while she lived at home. Finally, at twelve-thirty-six, the power went off without warning on a clear night. Lizzie obviously was ahead of her. "Gotta go, Sammie. We can't work like this. Tomorrow night?"
"Samantha," she growled. "Yes, I suppose so."
"Unless you got a date or something..." came an amused tone from the darkness.
"Tomorrow night," she shot back, proceeding to compute what Lizzie owed her. She helped the cheerleader down the stairs in the darkness, because the last thing she needed was a fucking lawsuit... and it turned out that only their lights were out.
Six and a half hours of mathematics had obviously wreaked havoc upon Lizzie's reasoning skills, such as they were, for now she was having trouble turning a doorknob. Samantha directed her interest instead to a low mechanical whine and ran to the window. "Right there," she pointed, indicating a black shape against the stars, some sort of flying craft with no lights. As Samantha realized that it was coming to hover over her house, she pulled Lizzie along and ran for the kitchen door... but that one wouldn't open either. The noise grew louder until it was deafening, and Lizzie looked out the window and gasped. Blinding light came through the window before Samantha could inquire, and the redhead fainted.
Samantha woke up before Lizzie, finding herself covered in what appeared to be an organic fiber resembling seran-wrap, bound around her tightly as she hovered in mid-air. She'd watched enough of these type of shows to realize that they'd been abducted by aliens... unless she was dreaming. And the one at the organic-looking controls was definitely the spitting image of their Hollywood depiction. Maybe there was something in all those stories after all. She hung there, struggling to move, for about a minute before the words came telepathically. "The other one is finally awake now."
Samantha still struggled to break free of her humiliating bondage. No doubt the cheerleader was actually enjoying it. Her legs were bound together, but Samantha was haunted by the possibility that that might change. Certainly Lizzie's resistance seemed to be a lot more token than her own, but then what did the cheerleader have to lose? She was probably looking forward to a shot at a new species or an exotic organic tentacle-probe. More aliens came into the room and attention focused upon the bound, floating girls. This wrapping was getting even tighter around her chest... and her hips too. Lizzie actually seemed to be relaxing; obviously no turn-on was too bizarre for her. And then Samantha noticed that her breasts were actually growing! More than that, Lizzie's were shrinking. Good lord, the aliens were somehow transferring Lizzie's gorgeous boobs to her! The airhead had figured it out and was now struggling furiously for release. Man, Samantha'd never realized till now just how much she'd always wanted nice big boobs. Well, alright, maybe she had. She couldn't go back to not having them. She couldn't. She didn't care about being trapped up here, didn't care if she ever got home or not, and home to what? Stupid studies and a spinster's life? They could keep her here forever... just let her keep the boobs! But of course they wouldn't. They had to reverse it. Samantha never had that kind of luck. The transparent organic wrapping finally loosened up a bit as the process stopped, as if adjusting to their exchanged measurements. And now some kind of gas was coming in through the breathing tube, and she was getting sleepy. Man, just let her forget, she hoped. She couldn't bear remembering that she'd been stacked, however briefly...
She awoke on her own bed, lights on again, and she knew instantly that it hadn't been a dream. She was dressed again, but her gray blouse was on the bed beside her and her sweater was unbuttoned down the front. Also her skirt felt a little tight, and when she sat up it ripped. She thrust her hands to her chest. "My god!" she squealed with delight. "They didn't switch us back!" She ran to the bathroom, took off her sweater, and examined her new boobs in the mirror. "This is too fucking good to be true..." she gasped. "Everything I ever wanted... With Lizzie's boobs and my brain, there's no fucking stopping me!" But her heart sank. Lizzie was gonna go to... somebody. The police? Samantha was slow on the uptake tonight. She pretended to pick up a newspaper and said, "'Aliens Exchange Girls' Boobs'? How can they print shit like that? Do people actually buy this? Oh, I'll take a copy..." People had a handy talent for denying the extraordinary. A day off school would make a boob-job more believable come Monday, though she was aching to get there to show off the new her. It was probably for the best. Nothing would fit her now. She was gonna have to raid Jeannie's forsaken closets just to get to the mall tomorrow.
Her father wandered in about three and stumbled straight up to bed. One of these days he was gonna get himself fucking killed coming home like that. Her mother slammed the front door and stomped up to bed at a little after four in the morning, quickly showering off the grease and smoke of the diner's night-crowd. He'd take off cursing his head and the universe at about eight, and she'd sleep till about noon. By then Samantha would be at the mall. She figured that she could avoid her parents for most of the weekend at least. Sooner or later she was gonna have to explain this to them somehow. And Lizzie's parents were gonna freak. They could still be trouble even if they didn't believe in aliens. Samantha didn't care. It wasn't like they could reverse it. These weren't silicone. These were real. Lizzie undoubtedly had good health coverage. Maybe there was a "cosmetic surgery to reverse compulsive breast-reduction" clause. That was her problem, anyway. Samantha was just thinking of new clothes.
She awoke in the morning after her father had gone and raided Jeannie's closets. Mom and Dad had kept her room the way it was, still hoping against hope that she might turn up some day. Jeannie's leather fetish was a bit much for her, but she could get to the mall anyway. Question was, should she really blow her hard-earned tutoring money on new clothes? She examined herself in Jeannie's mirror and felt up her breasts again. Her breasts. She could really get used to calling them that. "Shit, yes!" she answered herself.
In the mall the next morning, even with classes in session, she turned quite a few heads. No one questioned that she was supposed to be in school. What the hell was she thinking? She could have dropped out, she could be nineteen, and anyway what fucking business of anyone's was it if she cut anyway? She didn't have any tests today. She picked out some nice t-shirts and sweaters to show off what she now had, and some short skirts. Probably she should start thinking about makeup too, and get her hair done. The makeup was the hardest part of the process, since she was completely clueless and the lady had to help her. By the end of the day, with her red hair made over and her face painted up and her new clothes - a set of which she wore home - she could hardly believe that she was the same girl. It wasn't just the boobs and the hips. She could have done so much of this herself if she'd really tried, instead of sulking in her room being jealous of Jeannie and Lizzie and everyone who had a real life. But could she really turn her life around just like that? She was the same girl inside. She'd been examining herself in the mall fountain for about ten minutes when she burst out with, "The difference between a bimbo and a nerd is not how she behaves, but how she's treated." It was a turn on Shaw and she thought that rather clever. A couple guys within earshot gave her funny looks on hearing the line. She winked at them and smiled, and their eyes lit up. Oh, yeah, Samantha was gonna like her new life. Satisfied with her tease, she headed away.
"You're wearing fake tits?" her mother laughed when they finally collided Saturday evening. She thought that hysterical. Samantha actually blushed a little... but she was content to allow her mother her illusions. That was one dilemma solved, anyway.
All heads turned as she walked down the hall on Monday morning. Girls thought she was making a fool of herself and giggled about her so-called falsies. Boys were staring despite themselves. Samantha's heart fell. She should have known that she was too infamous as school nerd to pull a real turn around. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures. She was not gonna be stopped now. Her face was burning off even as she planned her next move. She pulled off her tight sweater in the middle of the hall, showing off her scanty bra. The bra didn't hide much, and it was obvious to one and all that, as she smiled proudly, "They're real, everyone!" Within a few seconds a hall monitor was dragging her away to the principal's office.
She could have written his lecture word for word, burbling on about how he was disappointed in her for pulling a stunt like that and whatever possessed her to get a breast-enhancement, how she was his best student, yadda yadda yadda. She just sat there bobbing her head from side to side waiting for him to finish. In the end he sighed and said, "I can see this is pointless. I just hope you come to your senses, young lady. Now get going."
Samantha proceeded to her locker to get her books. Word of her little show was spreading already, and everyone was looking at her differently now. About three boys surrounded her at her locker, all nice delicious jocks. She pretended to ignore them at first, bending down and getting out her books. But in a moment they were chatting her up. When Lizzie approached with her cohort Cindy, the guys weren't even distracted enough to notice her change. Lizzie looked positively wretched! She wondered for a second how she'd explained it. But only for a second. Apparently she wasn't going to make trouble for Samantha, which was all she cared about. Lizzie was already staring at her. There was something Samantha had been dying to do for three days now, and the thought of Lizzie watching finally gave her the nerve. Insisting to her admirers that her boobs were real, she took one guy's hand and guided it up under her sweater. Shit, that felt good. He was in no hurry to take his hand out, but finally a hall monitor began to take an interest. "Gotta get to class," she winked to him. "See you after school?" It was a stupid question, really. Of course he would.
Samantha found herself really too worked up to concentrate on her Hamlet test. Who gave a shit, anyway? Teachers were so stupid. She'd always liked to get her English teacher all fired up with her insistence that the plays were really written by... Oh, shit, how could she forget his name? That Ed guy. Cambridge, or something like that. She really had to concentrate. Who was Horatio again? He was the jester, right? No, that wasn't right. Shit, where was the time going? She came out knowing that she'd bombed the test, and it really pissed her off. She mustn't let that stuff slide. Lizzie's boobs and her brain, remember? She had to keep it in mind. "Who fucking cares?" she finally mumbled. "So worked up about one fucking test when I've got a solid A. It's not like I don't have a lot on my mind today. I'll settle in."
She collected herself, and social studies passed without a hitch. She wasn't paying much attention, but then she never had really. The difference was, today she was enjoying teasing the guys. Everyone was stealing glances. She pretended not to notice... but really it was occupying most of her attention. Calc class pissed her off. He was going like a demon today and no one could possibly be following him. What pissed her off even more was that everyone was humoring him, pretending not to notice. Finally she pointed out that he'd forgotten the chain rule in the middle of a problem, and he stared at her for a moment. "It doesn't work like that," he insisted. "Sine of x substitutes for x, so cosine of x suffices. We don't need another sine." Shit, where was her brain today? She slapped her head and apologized. "It's all right. Easy mistake."
Obviously she wasn't in the mood for classes today. At lunch some of the popular kids found her sitting alone and asked her to join them. They were talking about cutting the rest of the day. It sounded good to Samantha.
Who needed fucking classes anyway? She had boobs now, and everyone liked her. Her virginity was gone by the end of the week, and after that she got popular pretty fast. She found she preferred t-shirts to sweaters. Sweaters didn't show off enough. She gave up bras too. These babies were nice and firm. Eventually she traded in the skirts for tight shorts too. When she failed a big calc test the teacher lectured her about it, but she really didn't give a shit. She already had her scholarship and a drop in grades at the end of the year wasn't gonna have any real impact. It was just stupid to waste time on that when so many great things were opening up. She squeaked through and there seemed to be some intrigue about whether she should really be valedictorian, but they let her have it, and everyone loved her speech. She screwed her plans for her summer tutoring job and spent most of July with some of the gang at a beach house belonging to one of their father's. She looked fabulous in bikinis too, and better out of them. Private beaches ruled.
Okay, she really had to get back to work come fall. None of her high school friends were at this college, but she quickly made new ones, and it was even better because none of them even knew what a nerd she'd been. She rechristened herself Sammie for the new school but told herself that she was really gonna study. She got on the cheerleading squad, and she had to do that, just because she kept thinking, if Lizzie only knew! She promised herself that she'd study really hard at least one night a week. But the math classes at this school were way too hard. And it was such a dead building too. All her friends were always over in the humanities building. About halfway through the semester, she changed her major to psychology. In January, she got a real shock when old flat-chested Lizzie turned up again, now wearing plain clothes and calling herself "Liz." Who did she fucking think she was kidding, an airhead like that in this place?
Sammie really had to settle down a bit and concentrate on her grades. But there was always so much to fucking do, what with cheerleading and frat parties and all. When her grades for the spring semeter finally came in and she realized she'd failed out, she just about freaked. Fortunately her parents didn't give a shit one way or the other. But Sammie couldn't bear to leave all her friends behind, and if she studied really hard maybe she could take some exams and get back in. She'd just lost her scholarship, not been kicked out really. If she saved up, she could finish. But she needed money. She got a job as a waitress near the college and got to see her friends all the time. It wasn't really hard work either. The manager loved her boobs! It was spoiled a little when Liz started coming in and giving her the evil eye when she thought Sammie wasn't looking, but who really gave a shit about Liz? She'd turned into a real nerd. Must've finally started using that brain. Well, brains were a poor substitute for boobs. Sammie had always known that, even before that night. That's why the noises from Jeannie's room had always pissed her off so much. The real reason Liz pissed her off so much was that she reminded Sammie what a nerd she'd once been herself, how she'd denied so many truths and made herself so damn miserable. It wasn't even all about boobs either, really. She'd brought so much of it on herself. She knew Liz was jealous of her boobs... but there wasn't anything she could do about it.
Sammie flirted with the preppies at the restaurant. Who gave a shit about grades when she could marry one of them and never work again? She'd been a real idiot not to figure that out sooner. Sometimes the flirting paid off. She spent one weekend in a nice big house one of her regulars invited her back to. There was a little trouble getting through the airport, but the strip-search was kinda fun, even if it was from a woman. Sammie figured it was something to do with the aliens, but she didn't give a shit. Strip-searches weren't so bad. The women who did them always looked so jealous of her boobs!
She still lived at home, but she never went back there at night if there was anywhere else she could go. There wasn't always, and sometimes she and her guy had to fuck in the car before dropping her off. She got pregnant once, but luckily it was one of her richer guys and he took care of it. Unluckily it kind of made him lose interest. Oh well, there were lots of others. She was home asleep one night after one of her dates when she was woken up violently by flat-chested Liz, who'd somehow snuck into her room. Sammie demanded that she get out but Liz just stood there defiantly. "You had it all, bitch, and you threw it away to play stupid! Brains and tits, while I struggle to understand anything at all! You fucking WASTED it all! If you had the foggiest fucking idea what I'm gonna do, you'd thank me! Maybe you'll finally start using that brain of yours again and stop playing the airhead!"
"I don't understand..." Sammie whined. Liz actually struck a nerve or two, but for the most part Sammie thought that all the things she'd claimed to want in the old days were just the bitter dreams of a flat-chested nerd who'd had no hope of anything better. She apologized and reminded Liz that none of it was her fault. Liz countered with some technical gobbleygook. Who did she think she was trying to impress? Sammie knew bullshit when she heard it. "These're mine now! You can't undo it!" But Liz wouldn't give up, going off on some fucking point about breast growth, patronizing her as if Sammie thought that they'd actually plucked'em off Liz and put'em on her. Sammie didn't like being treated like an idiot, especially by a do-it-yourself nerd of all things. Liz was scaring her though. What was she doing here? "Go away or I'll call the police!"
"You are NOT this fucking stupid! You got A's in calculus!"
"Aw, who needed'em anyway?" Sammie sulked. What the fuck did grades matter? Liz'd known that long before Sammie'd figured it out. Now she kept trying to play the nerd, even though she didn't really have the brains for it. She was only doing it to spite Sammie, trying to pretend to take over Sammie's old life because she thought Sammie had taken hers. That was just plain childish. "You're nerd enough for both of us now. Don't tell me you didn't choose to be like that!"
"It was all you left me, bitch, but that'll change soon enough." And Liz lunged at her with a hanky, and everything went black.
Samantha woke up from her stupor - in more ways than one - feeling a different woman. Liz was nude on her floor playing with herself and staring at herself in the mirror... and had her boobs back. Samantha felt her chest, and her heart fell. The airhead hadn't been bluffing. But how...? There was a cut on Samantha's left side, near her waist, already healing at hyper-metabolic speeds. Surely hyper-metabolic speeds, for it was still dark and she couldn't have been unconscious a whole day; her parents would have inquired. Of course, she realized. The airport... She had an implant. That's how the aliens had done it. And somehow that masturbating moron had figured it out and...
Liz was a moron. She looked and acted even more completely an airhead than she had in the old days. Shit, she was far beyond airhead. And Samantha herself... My god, what'd she done to her life? What was she doing working as a fucking waitress like her mother? How could she have... Her eyes narrowed. Of course. More than their breasts had been exchanged on that night. She'd gotten Lizzie's intelligence and Lizzie had gotten hers. She felt her chest. Even her natural breasts, such as they'd been, were gone. She was flatter than flat... and smarter than smart. Evidently, the process was a tradeoff. Samantha could easily reverse it now. She wanted those breasts back. But she was NOT going back to being a fucking moron! If she could study the process, perhaps there was a way to avoid the tradeoff. One implant would suffice. She needed money to get started... and there was no one to miss Lizzie.
Lizzie saw her staring. "They're mine! You can't have'em! You can't!" Shit, she was a fucking imbecile! What'd that make Samantha?
"Keep them," she said coldly. She headed out and made some discrete phone calls. Her IQ would be off the charts, and finding the sort of people she wanted didn't take much deduction. It was surprising how much a good imbecilic bimbo could fetch, really. She obtained more for her even than she'd calculated, but then she was hardly up to date on the currency exchange rates. It wasn't the sort of thing preppies talked about when a bimbo waitress was sitting on their laps. The interesting thing was that Lizzie didn't seem to mind at all as they carted her away to slavery in Arabia. Somehow that irritated Samantha a little. She wasn't the least bit worried about being caught, though, for she left home and never looked back.
She opted to stay in the same town, buying a small shop on the outskirts. She had big plans, but she'd need to do a lot of experimenting first. There were no existing intelligence tests that could adequately measure her now, and Samantha saw no point in creating any. She spent the better part of a year getting up to speed on existing technology and simultaneously analyzing the implant. Hmm... virtually all metal, not organic technology. That was interesting. Samantha put a bed and wardrobe on the ground floor of the shop and lived there, leaving the top floor unused for now. Behind the cellar she hollowed out a passage down to a large underground room. She saw no purpose in wasting much effort on personal necessities above; she'd be spending most of her time down here. After getting her domicile and laboratory up and running, she turned her attention toward replicating the implant. She had a mind to improve on it eventually, but for now she'd just try to create one functionally like her own.
Her set-up was rather primitive when she turned her attention toward securing a subject for testing purposes. Just to be on the safe side, she chose a city halfway around the state. She would choose her subjects with the utmost care, and so studied several likely candidates for several days. She finally selected a moderately endowed friendless twenty year-old girl who worked nights as a telephone operator. Samantha tinkered with her car so that it would break down when she activated a remote control, and then trailed her as she left for home around two in the morning. On a deserted road, Laura's car coasted to a stop. Samantha pulled up behind her and offered to help. When Laura bent over to look under the engine, her abductor stunned her with a ready-made device.
She propped up her captive in the front seat of her own car and began the long drive home. Three times Laura started to wake, but Samantha stunned her again before she could properly regain consciousness. Before long, Laura was lying on a metal table down in the lab, still unconscious. Samantha tore open her captive's blouse and removed it, and then proceeded to dispose of her earrings, bracelets, and shoes. The skirt came off next. As Samantha unhooked her bra, Laura began to stir a little. "Uhh... where'm I?"
"Your new home," Samantha replied coldly, rendering her unconscious again. She disposed of the bra and slipped off Laura's panties. It was important to give her a thorough physical examination, to know Laura in every detail, before adding the implant. She also took thorough measurements, even making a plaster-of-paris outline of her bust, once while laying down and once while propped up. Laura woke up screaming when Samantha dug into her waist to attach the implant, but she immediately knocked her out again. She saw no purpose in concealing it under the skin, least of all on a girl whose soul purpose in life was now to be a guinea pig, and so she left the surface of the device conveniently exposed on her waist. For now, one subject and one implant would suffice. Samantha wouldn't risk experimenting on herself of course, but she wasn't ready to conduct any transferences just yet.
Laura's new home was a makeshift prison cell with transparent front and a sliding panel to plunge her into darkness whenever staring at the imprisoned girl began to tweak Samantha's conscience. The girl finally awoke to find herself a prisoner, looking out into the dim laboratory, wearing only her bra and panties. Samantha's cold face met her immediately, and Laura only started to cry. Her captor's conscience tweaked her even earlier than expected. But she'd have to maintain a professional distance. Samantha only looked away and continued about her work until, an hour or so later, Laura chose to speak. "What will you do with me?"
"I have need of you, Laura," Samantha replied. "For my experiments."
"W-why me?"
"You wouldn't be missed."
"If... if I cooperate, will you let me go?"
"This is your new home. Accept that you will never leave it. If you do not cooperate, you will not be fed." And Laura only started to cry again. Samantha began asking her a series of questions designed to gauge her intelligence. It was another day or so before she adjusted to the situation and started to find her courage. She began demanding to be released and shouting out all the cornball threats about how Samantha wasn't going to get away with it. Her captor amused herself by explaining in painful detail exactly why she was going to get away with it, how carefully Laura had been chosen. Laura decided on a strategy of trying to wear Samantha down... and the latter simply closed her panel, plunging her into darkness for two days to reconsider her attitude. For the moment there were no real experiments to conduct on the girl; Samantha simply kept her under observation for about three weeks, studying her for any adverse reactions to the implant. Her captive's tantrums and threats for release eventually died down into whimpers, but Samantha attributed that to the psychological effects of captivity. The implant was as harmless as Samantha's own. All that remained was to see if she had successfully duplicated the functions.
In another town, equally distant in the state, Samantha found Sharon, a twenty-three year-old woman who lived alone and did phone-sex for a living. Sharon was more outgoing than Laura, but she played the field, and none of the guys she dated would make any effort to look into her disappearance. Samantha took her while she slept, and Sharon awoke in her underwear in the cell with Laura. Samantha was not going to waste her efforts explaining a second time, so she let Laura put her in the picture, watching by videocamera from another room. Laura had just began to explain how she too had been kidnapped and asked questions and that the amazingly flat-chested redhead hadn't really explained what it was all about when Sharon noticed the shiny, buttonlike metal surface on her waist. "W-what the fuck is this?" she freaked.
"I-I'm not sure," Laura explained. "I have one too, see?"
"I'm getting it the fuck out!" Sharon hissed, starting to dig at it with her fingernails.
"D-don't!" Laura shrieked. "If you dig at it, it sets off alarms, and then she'll be in here like a shot. Last time I tried, she didn't give me anything to eat for two days, and the air got kinda stale too. If you just go along with it, this is as bad as it gets."
"Go along with it like fuck!" Sharon spat. "We're getting out of here... somehow!"
Samantha gave Sharon a full day to get used to her new situation, but she proved more uncooperative than Laura. But with two girls, Samantha could start experimenting. The pair awoke one morning to find themselves out of their cell and firmly strapped into two chairs in the middle of the room, in front of Samantha's control panel. "And now we may begin, ladies," Samantha smiled.
"W-what are you gonna do?" Laura stuttered, as the girls noticed the wires running from Samantha's exchanger to the tiny port on their implants.
"I'm not answering any more questions," Sharon insisted. Samantha ignored her, approached, and removed the girls' bras. "Pervert! What is this about?"
"You've been most uncooperative, Sharon," her captor replied coldly, returning to the controls, "so I believe we shall reward Laura and punish you." She began turning her dials.
"You can't turn us against one another, bitch!" Sharon growled. She was so preoccupied with her bile that she didn't even notice that the experiment had begun until she saw Laura gasp. She looked over and saw her companion's breasts growing. "What the fuck -"
Laura's timidity began to fade, and soon her face was brimming with vacuous joy. Sharon was now noticing that her own breasts were getting smaller, but the fury on her face was mixing with a new fascination. "I-it's not possible!" Sharon gasped. "What about the mass? What about..." Finally concern overpowered curiosity. "Y-you can't leave me like in this state!" she gasped. "Reverse the process, damn you!"
"You still seem not to have grasped the situation, Sharon," Samantha replied icily. "You will never leave this set of rooms again. A shapely figure can have no bearing on anything in your life but the most abstract self-esteem. Is that really so important? I must make a note of that..."
"Cold-hearted bitch!" Sharon growled. She looked over to Laura, who had lost all fear and self-consciousness and was only giggling at the sight of her huge breasts. She was actually trying in vain to reach down with her tongue. Sharon was obviously baffled. "What've you done to her?" she demanded. "Not just the breasts, but..."
"Nearly moronic, isn't she? And how do you feel, Sharon?" She gasped as she realized how much smarter she was. She couldn't resist cooperating as Samantha asked her another series of questions, which she virtually aced. The sharpness of her own mind clearly stunned her. "Results are excellent..." Samantha summarized into a microphone. "Subjects do not gain knowledge per se, but mental processes are sharpened and even memories seem to become clearer. Tomorrow's experiments shall focus on the personality changes that take place as a side-effect of intelligence swapping and of self-image factors." She paused. "I believe I'll leave you two like this for the moment."
Sharon relaxed a little at the words "for the moment", even though she knew fully well how irrational her relaxation was. Neither reaction escaped Samantha. Sharon couldn't help asking, "And you consider making her a big-breasted moron a reward, with this brain of mine a punishment? I'm bright enough now to make a few deductions from that..."
"Save the corny old 'psychoanalyze the jailer' routine," Samantha sighed, approaching. "Your chest at least is still relatively womanly. Deduce what that means." Sharon's eyes widened and she put it together. "You can't tell me anything about myself that I don't know cold," the redhead added, and she rendered the pair unconscious before Sharon could reply.
As anticipated, Laura had lost most of her intelligence to Sharon as Sharon had lost her bust-size to Laura. But Samantha could see no necessary correlation. She ascribed it to the aliens' sick sense of humor and, after conducting personality tests and every conceivable level of exchange between the two, began experimenting to refine the process. It was just a matter of isolating the correct pattern of microscopic receptors on the implant rather than simply connecting a sole wire into the major port. She connected each receptor by wires into her major apparatus and soon she could exchange breasts without intelligence or vice-versa. The next step was to get rid of the cumbersome wires. She had to invent her own technology as she went along, but that in itself was a worthy challenge and one of the more interesting aspects of her new work. What she finally ended up with wasn't the organic technology of the aliens - that would be the work of a lifetime - but something far more sophisticated than in use anywhere else on earth. Her experimental chambers, the ultimate of purely stylistic achievements in the chamber, had an almost organic feel to them... but even her laboratory as a whole ultimately had a pseudo-alien style about it that reminded her pleasantly of that night her life had first begun to turn around.
Samantha eventually decided that there was no point in doing laundry for the pair, so they awoke one morning to find themselves naked once and for all. The redhead was simply being practical, but the dehumanizing effects had not escaped her. That lack of clothes, the constant companionship, and the everyday changes in intelligence and/or breast-size slowly ate away at the girls' individual senses of identity. All other factors being equal, Sharon always remained the hornier one, the more emotional one in general. It was she who, one morning while their breasts were equalized and her intelligence minimal, began playing with the sleeping Laura in the darkness with the panel shut. Samantha caught it all on the infrared cameras. Laura woke up from the sensation of fingers in her nether regions but pretended still to be asleep. Sharon began kissing her body... and when their lips finally met, Laura made it known that she'd really been awake. Before long, intelligence and even bust-size made no difference. The pair were lovers. Samantha chalked it up less to her experiments than the effects of a shared captivity... but it was possible that, with their individual identites blurrier, it had started psychologically more as masturbation.
Even with wires replaced by electromagnetic signals of the sort the aliens probably used, the button-shaped implants were still cumbersome... especially for what Samantha ultimately had in mind. She designed a more effective bracelet that highlighted the various spot-receptors for more efficient work. But it was still only a theoretical improvement, and she was reluctant to risk either of her girls. Samantha rather enjoyed watching them on the scanners; they still didn't know that they were being monitored. She preferred to leave the panel open, the lights in the adjoining chamber on, so that she could watch the pair by natural light, sitting comfortably in another room with her eyes on the viewscreen and her hand, likely as not, under her panties. Samantha regarded herself as straight, but it'd been a long time and she saw no reason not to indulge her voyeuristic tendencies. It was for that reason that she usually kept their breasts fairly equalized after awhile.
Nothing had ever come of the sale of Lizzie; Samantha hadn't really expected any trouble. She occasionally went home to check on her parents, more out of a perverse sense of curiosity than longing for them. They noted that she'd "gotten rid of her falsies" and that her attitude had changed again, but they were fairly convinced by now that she was "nuts" anyway. Samantha always avoided the question of how she earned her living. She stopped by one day without phoning but they were off somewhere, and while she was waiting on the porch, a car stopped and let out a hitchhiker. Jeannie had swallowed her pride and come home. "Hi, Sammie," she blushed. "They around?" She shook her head. "You, um, still live here? Guess you're in college or something."
"That would be 'or something,'" Samantha replied coldly. She found that she hated her sister even more than before, having actually been like her for awhile. Not that she'd ever, at her worst, quite worn outfits like Jeannie's. Jeannie was trash, pure and simple, a walking stereotype with a leather fetish, skull earrings, and an ankh around her neck. "Does anyone know you've come back?" she found herself asking.
Jeannie shook her head. "Do you think... they'll take me in?"
"Screw them," Samantha replied. "I'll take you in." She led her sister back to her shop - still done up like a bedroom at the moment - and down to the cellar. Jeannie was intrigued when Samantha opened the wall... intrigued enough be taken by surprise with chloroform. She woke up to find herself nude, the first inhabitant of Samantha's new, globe-shaped, hanging experimental chambers... and wearing a mark-one symbiobracelet.
Jeannie screeched for release. "Sammie, what the hell is this? Let me outta here!"
"You'll like this, Jeannie. Really you will." She played with her controls and a panel slid open, revealing the two naked girls in their prison cell. Jeannie started to freak... then watched with fascination as the breasts of one grew smaller and smaller. She looked to her own chest and smiled as her already-decent boobs grew bigger, until finally they were the size of a certain forgotten Arabian slave's with, by now, a name like Fatima. Despite their melon-size, they remained pert and well-shaped. Jeannie was obviously pleased. "Wow, Sammie, I take it back! You're still a strange one, but this kinda strange I like! Can I keep'em?"
"Why not?" Samantha replied. Jeannie's baseline intelligence was already sub-par, but her sister cranked her down to the level of a giggling simpleton. She figured Jeannie would like that. She didn't even seem to be taking much notice of anything but her boobs when her globe went dark.
Samantha enjoyed playing with Jeannie. It was the sort of pleasure she hadn't felt since... Oh, god, there were some realizations she was trying desperately to avoid. But after a few more experiments, Samantha would feel comfortable enough to enlarge her own breasts again, and then... Well, even a cold fish could do well for herself with big boobs. In the meantime, her sister made good sport. Sometimes she gave Jeannie high intelligence just to see the effects. Jeannie didn't cope well with high intelligence, not until extraordinary levels were reached. She simply didn't have the vocabulary or any kind of real education. She ended up sounding like Einstein would have sounded if he'd been raised by a street gang. Mediocre intelligence was much more fun, because Jeannie would make wild and often incomprehensible protests about how she was going to run complaining to the waitress and the construction worker, or else she'd plead with Samantha and say she was sorry for everything she ever did. Not even big boobs would shut her up after awhile, but Jeannie always appreciated them. Most enjoyable of all was cranking Jeannie down to minimal ordinary intelligence. She enjoyed watching the former belle of the fleet playing with herself with a total lack of self-consciousness. She kept Jeannie in the globe all the time. The bracelets would also substitute for nutrition. Jeannie sometimes worked herself up into a sweat, so Samantha had to create a mechanism for cleaning her. She rather enjoyed what she came up with. Jeannie at her most pathetic would whine to be put in with Laura and Sharon. It was tempting to discover how long her very heterosexual sister could hold out in there, but Samantha refused. Her sister didn't deserve any friends.
Finally, Jeannie began playing dumb even when given high intelligence... or so Samantha thought at first. She incorporated lie-detection circuitry into the symbiobracelet and began testing her. Was the intelligence exchanger malfunctioning? She checked everything. Visually, it didn't seem quite right either. More and more, Jeannie would stare off blankly into space. Samantha noticed degradation even between periods when she hadn't changed Jeannie's intelligence. She put Jeannie off to the side and decided to get some new material to experiment on, going back for now to the old fashioned button-implants. She put her new captives into the globes, and ultimately she broke up Laura and Sharon and put them in globes as well. She eventually had quite a collection of women, ranging from late teens to mid-thirties. The ones who were really shrill and bad sports about captivity she turned into morons. She really didn't need their shit. What was happening to Jeannie?
Her sister never spoke anymore. She just stared off into space all the time, taking no notice of breast-changes or even intelligence-changes. Samantha finally perfected a device for scanning her brain and gasped at what she saw. The long-term effects of the symbiobracelet were not pretty. "Shit," she gasped. "I never wanted her to..." There had to be a way to reverse it. She worked night and day, fighting the clock as Jeannie's brain continued to degrade. The best she could finally come up with was a stopgap measure. She turned the dial. "Jeannie... can you hear me?"
"Huh... am I still here, sis?" she asked.
"Do you know what's happening to you?" She cranked up the intelligence to high ordinary levels.
"I don't wanna be a vegetable, Sammie. I'm sorry if I ever hurt you."
"I can't stop it, Jeannie. Even this won't last long. A couple of hours. I don't... think I'll be able to do it again."
"I don't wanna be a vegetable, Sammie."
"You... said that already."
"I know. I'm repeating it. When... when I'm really starting to go, I want you to end it."
Samantha paused. "I never wanted to really hurt you, Jeannie. I mean that."
"Can you do me a favor, then?"
"Anything, Jeannie," she found herself saying.
"I don't care about the smarts. That only ever mattered to you anyway. But when I go... I want to go with big boobs. Really big ones. How big can you make'em?"
"I've... never really tested the limits. It seemed pointless. There are asthetic limits after all." She paused and began turning the dials. "Say when." Jeannie's breasts blossomed out, and she smiled at the transformation. "Jeannie!" she gasped.
"Keep going," Jeannie insisted. They were past melon-size and still increasing. Only when they were the size of basketballs did Jeannie say, "All right. There."
Samantha laughed as Jeannie played with herself. "You are such a bimbo."
"Hey, Sammie, this's me you're talking to. I don't care how inhumanly smart you are, I know what you want." Samantha blushed. "Anyway, it's been fun, Sammie. Sorry if it's a waste to go out like this, but you do owe me, what with the experiments and all."
"I can always get more girls," Samantha replied.
"Don't put off your tits forever. These are the best years of your life. Trust me, I know."
"I know, too. Long story."
"Sammie, you surprise me!"
Samantha told her the whole story. By the end, Jeannie's mind was wandering. Finally she was just staring off into space again. She'd never know if the breasts were returned to their most recent owners. But Samantha let her keep them.
She buried herself viciously in her experiments on the others, keeping Jeannie's globe ever lit off to one side. Finally, after another two months, there was no denying any longer that her sister was long gone. She had the appartus already specially prepared. Jeannie's globe filled with a powerful acid. She didn't even cry out as her body dissolved. Finally, there was nothing left of her sister.
"I need a drink," Samantha said out loud. She left her laboratory and headed out to the local bar. It didn't take her long to pinpoint the flaw that had caused the brain-degradation, and she designed a mark-two symbiobracelet with the problem corrected. She built it by day and went out to drink at night. She had predetermined that her alcoholic indulgence would last until the bracelet was completed. But she still needed a subject. That bimbo in the bar who always went home with someone different was perfect. No one would miss her. She met her in the alley, struck up a few verifying notes of conversation, and then rendered her unconscious. There was still a chance that the mark-two symbiobracelet might be dangerous in some way... might even kill the new woman.
But Samantha just didn't care anymore.
Next: Samantha's story, the conclusion
Please send all comments to [email protected]