Crystal's StorySite storysite.org
by Heather Sinclair
The mechanical hands of the new redundant viral security system set the last vial into the containment case. The case itself was made of double-layered adamantium, reinforced with shock absorbing foam insets to protect the containment vials for transport. Though why someone would want to transport these lethal potions was anyone's guess.
The lid automatically closed, and four locks located at each corner of the case turned ninety degrees clockwise, hermetically sealing the container. A red light at the carrying handle switched to green, indicating a safe seal.
The operator of the mechanical arms released a long held breath that he hadn't remembered holding. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face as he recalled the last time this plan was tried; the theft of the dreaded T-Virus. The original virus was being developed as a energy inducer; in the hopes of giving it to battle weary soldiers that had been severely injured in the heat of combat.
The idea was to push them well past their normal line of endurance for more efficient and resilient soldiers. What the scientists didn't count on was the 'inhuman' factor. Once a subject of the virus had eventually died from blood loss or traumatic injury, their base instincts took over.
They had forgotten that the human body is also run on electrical impulses, and that well after the body has died, hair and nails continued to grow. New cell generation was possible many months after final death. The T-Virus increased the output of this energy to untold limits, thus effectively reanimating dead tissue.
There was a dramatic side effect included with this amazing transformation. All upper brain functions ceased. The only remaining mode was the basest of human survival, hunger.
The original thief obtained the alpha version of the T-Virus for sale on the global black market. Nobody knows why, but the thief broke one of the ampoules containing the T-Virus before his departure, resulting in total contamination of facility. Within the following fifteen minutes, the scientists got to know the true results of their many years work, first hand.
Eventually the facility was contained and purified of the infection, both of the virus and its victims, and ultimately re-staffed.
Since then, several different forms of the virus had been developed for further experimentation. The original T-Virus reanimated the dead.
The TA-Virus encouraged rapid mutation of ingested foreign DNA with out-of-control side effects. The TB-Virus resulted in giving the victim added strength at the cost of his sanity. The TC-Virus was an utter failure with no advantageous results. The TD and TE-Virus' promoted mutagenic results, effectively de-evolving their hosts.
The TF-Virus was the closest they had gotten to their goal. They had increased strength, stamina, and dexterity of the host, but within two months of infection the host had died inexplicably.
The final tests on the new TG-Virus had just been completed the day before and animal testing was to begin today. If they had the Virus, that is.
Sean Sullivan tensed, as the point man affixed a lock scrambler to the outer wall, underneath the security keypad. He had heard way too many stories about the last S.T.A.R.S. (Special Tactics and Rescue Squad) to visit the Hive Facility; tales of flesh eating Zombies, and Conspiracies out the wazoo.
He had been recruited straight out of college, only six months ago. S.T.A.R.S. was a privately funded group mainly consisting of ex-C.I.A, and ex-F.B.I agents. Their original mission statement was counter cult-affiliated terrorism, however quickly expanded to include hostage negotiation, code breaking, and riot control.
S.T.A.R.S. was soon affiliated with every law enforcement agency in the United States and five European countries. They had opened their ranks to scholars in every field, mainly focusing on criminal justice majors and minors, of which Sullivan belonged.
The team consisted of: Riley-scout, Grisham-demolitions, Summers-electronics, King-computers, Anderson-languages, Pool-team leader, and himself-science.
Sullivan's team was smaller than the normal squad; smaller because of the missions they were normally assigned - In and Outs. They were not long term, strictly quick infiltration and extraction.
The outer door slid open and Riley scanned the dark interior with his night-vision goggles. He took two steps in and activated the lights. Bright fluorescent flooded the interior. Sullivan's imaginary ghosts dissipated quickly and he visibly relaxed.
Summers arm-bumped him on her way in. "Gettin' the jitters already, Sully?"
Sullivan smirked. "This place gives me the creeps."
"Can the chatter." Pool walked by. "Riley, what do you got?"
"It's an entrance lobby, sir."
King swept the area with his MP5 high on his shoulder. "You don't see any creepy-crawlies do ya?"
"King, access port is over there. Log in and give me a report." Pool ordered.
King nodded and flipped open his 'arm-top' computer, going to work.
"Riley, Sully, scout ahead and secure the parameter."
Great, thought Sullivan. Into the fray.
Summers brought her hand held scanner down and read the results. "Sir, environment is free from known contaminants.
Sullivan looked at Riley. "Don't you love the way she always stresses the word, known."
The lobby was like any other, couches, reception area, elevators, emergency stairway. Everything was seemingly fine and in good order.
Riley called back. "All clear, sir."
Pool fidgeted, impatiently. "King, report."
"Comin' in now sir ... oh shit."
Pool closed. "Stow that shit, report."
"Dead sir ... everyone is dead." King whispered. "572 CBL signals ... all just above room temp."
Everyone looked around the room again, grips tightening on their weapons.
Pool summoned his steel nerve. "This doesn't change anything, people. Just makes it that much easier to skirt the bureaucracy."
Sullivan shuddered. Jesus, doesn't anything affect this guy?
"Riley, do the elevators work?"
"Fine, time to take a little trip, ladies."
Summers slapped her commander on the back as she passed. "Hey, I resent that comment."
The doors opened to the elevator and everyone stepped in. Anderson's finger hovered over the buttons. "Floor sir?"
Pool looked at King. King's eyes slipped down to the computer screen on his forearm. "Sub-Level 13."
Sullivan's eyes fluttered in resignation. "Great ... just great."
Pool scowled. "Something you want to share, Sully?"
The commandeers question was returned with a shake of Sullivan's head. "Don't want to be a zombie, sir, " he paused, "I'm a vegetarian."
Summers laughed. "Don't worry, Sully. If you get turned, you can eat me." She gestured to her crotch.
Sullivan shook it off. "Promises, promises."
The rest of the squad chuckled a bit, enough to take the tension down a couple of levels. Then the floor bell dinged.
The first thing that assaulted them was the smell ... rotted flesh.
She brought her scanner up again. "Still clear sir, though there is an increase in methane, but well within tolerable levels."
Grisham finally chimed in. "Check me if I'm wrong but if there are dead bodies, they shouldn't be rotten yet, right."
"They would be if they were zombies."
"Enough with the zombie shit, Sully." Pool looked down the empty hallway. "Riley."
Riley nodded and perched his MP5 on his shoulder, assuming a combat ready stance, then moved smoothly down the hallway, scanning left and right.
Sullivan followed suit. Then Grisham , Summers, Pool, King and taking rear guard, Anderson.
Riley tried every door along the hallway. All the offices were empty. Papers were scattered, furniture turned on its side, general disarray.
"All clear, sir."
Pool nodded, "Move on."
Riley turned the corner, with Sullivan on his tail all the way to the end of the hallway ending to another door.
"Gheez, how many freakin' doors does this place have?"
He slid a general release keycard along the swiper, unlocking the magnetic locks holding the door closed. Then they came, flooding the hallway ... zombies.
Two things stood out to Sullivan as he saw his teammate hauled up and over the shoulders of the mass of the walking dead: one, their appearance: pale skin, rotting flesh, blood stained teeth and ice blue eyes; and two, the sound, the soulless screaming of the undead.
It was enough to snap something deep in the recesses of his brain. That little something that makes human beings, human. Fear, rage and desperation took hold of the twenty year old boy from Houston, Texas and turned him into an animal.
His right thumb flicked the delivery system on his MP5 to full auto and his index finger tripped the safety and then he screamed.
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST DIEDIEDIEDIEDIE!"
The rest of his team were there in seconds, along side, empting their magazines into the walking corpses. The one thing that was learned from the last S.T.A.R.S. team that left this building was that zombies weren't that easily taken down. Regular ammo just didn't have the stopping power.
However this team was prepared with explosive ammo. It did the job, stopping the undead in their collective tracks. It was unbelievably messy, but efficient. Coagulated blood sprayed the hallway. The screams of the undead and the machine gun fire was enough to deafen Sullivan, enough that he couldn't hear his commanding officer's cease fire order.
Pool's hand was on Sullivan's forearm snapping him out of his trance.
"They're dead, Sully."
"Everyone check your ammo. Riley might still be alive. We need to move."
Sullivan dropped the empty clip and jammed another in its place automatically. He didn't bother to watch his step and plowed through the mass of dead-again bodies. There was only one way to go, through another doorway.
The smell of death was overwhelming; lingering in the air like a dense fog. Sullivan moved with the strength of conviction. He had to find his friend and teammate, safety be damned. He scanned the room and moved to a pair of closed glass doors. Looking through the glass he starred down into a laboratory, sunken into the floor.
Riley was there, surrounded by several dozen of the creatures; being torn apart. Sullivan stepped back and let loose a dozen or so rounds into the glass. The explosive bullets destroyed the safety glass in seconds.
Sullivan jumped the railing and landed on the outer edge of the pile of death. His team remained up top, shooting into the crowd, mowing down creature after creature.
Grisham screamed above the noise. "Sully, here."
Sullivan looked up and stuck his hand out for the incendiary device.
"The containment vestibule. Light it and we are gone!"
The zombies were not without any sense and smelled fresh meat just behind them. Sullivan didn't waste any time. He made his way to the vestibule, flicking the arming switch and reared back to toss it the remainder of the way.
As he pulled his arm back a zombie latched on to it and pulled. Sullivan dropped the device and brought his weapon around, unloading into the torso of the creature, but it was too late. Its teeth had sunk into his flesh.
"FUCK! Get off me you fuck!"
The creature dropped and Sullivan knew he only had about two seconds before he was blown to hell and back. He dove for the only cover around, the containment vestibule.
Flames lit up his world.
Sean Sullivan's eyes opened slowly. The smell of antiseptic hit him before his vision cleared enough to identify his visitor. He knew he was in a hospital.
"Don't try to move."
He consciously tried to focus his eyes to no avail.
"You got burned bad, man. Don't try to move."
Sullivan gave up on his attempts and relaxed, closing his eyes.
"The docs say that you shouldn't be alive."
Who the fuck are you?
He knew that he should be able to identify the visitor. He couldn't even tell if it was a male or female. My ears must be screwed up, too.
He had read about burn victims in school. With this kind of damage, he should be dead, and if not, he will be soon.
The visitor noticed the pained look on Sullivan's face.
"Hey, Sully. It's cool, man. They say you are healing fast ... weird kinda fast, if you know what I mean."
Sullivan tried for the first time to use his voice. It creaked; dried and raspy. "Who?'
"Who? What do ya mean, man? Who what?"
Each effort to accomplish anything was draining, but he had to know. "You."
The voice laughed. "Who am I? It's me, Summers."
"Doc, it's only been three weeks. What the hell is going on?" Commander Pool demanded.
The doctor held the clipboard out to Pool. "Just sign, Commander, and I can release the details."
Pool grabbed the clipboard. "What the hell is it."
The doctor explain nonchalantly. "Standard security protocol. You are going to be privy to some top secret information. Eventually your entire team will have to sign also, or be dismissed from service. Sgt. Summers has already signed and been informed at the patient's request ... for reasons that will be obvious after the debrief.
The Commander signed. He was very familiar with security protocols and had signed dozens anyway. One more wasn't going to make any difference.
He was taken to a conference room and shown a seat. The lights were dimmed. A large plasma screen television hung on the far wall turned on and displayed an image of Sullivan, perhaps hours after arriving at the burn unit of a S.T.A.R.S. controlled hospital.
The doctor stood by the screen pointing at the image. "I'm sure you are familiar with Sean Sullivan, a member of your team that breached The Hive facility a little over three weeks ago."
"Bare with me for a few moments, Commander. All will be made clear. Consider this rehashing an old mission."
The doctor punched a button on a hand held remote. More pictures of Sullivan appeared one after another, showing every portion of his body. The burns were worse than Pool thought.
The physician shifted. "I realize that the experience is horrific, Commander. It is much more so to the patient."
Pool straightened in his chair. If Sully had to go through this, the least I could do is sit though the slide show.
The doctor clicked to a new set of pictures. These weren't so bad. Hell, it looked as if his skin was healing, with no visible scarring. It was patchy, but you could still tell.
"I see you are as surprised as the rest of us were at his ability to heal. But before I go on, I need to explain some things to you."
"In your report, you said that you found Sullivan in a viral containment vestibule. That he dove for cover before the incendiary device ignited."
"That's right. It blew him back against the holding containers. We thought he was toast after taking a bath in ..."
"Exactly. After taking a bath in the various virus' contained therein."
"You mean to tell me that they helped him heal, instead of turning him to one of those things?"
The doctor clicked another button.
New pictures replaced the old ones. New pictures of a fully healed body, but Pool knew it wasn't Sullivan.
The doctor smiled. "This, commander, is Sean Sullivan."
"Bullshit. That's a chick."
A voice surprised Pool from behind him. "I'd prefer to be called female, if you don't mind."
"Bullshit. That's a chick."
"Uh, sir. I don't mean to be disrespectful but what is this shit."
Commander Pool addressed the rest of his team. "This is your teammate, Shawn Sullivan. The damage caused by the explosion and resulting dousing in the various T-Virus' caused a transformation ... somewhat unexpected."
Anderson leaned forward. "He's a chick?"
"I'm a chick."
The team collectively turned their heads to see Shawn Sullivan and Liz Summers standing behind them.
Grisham spoke up first. "Damn, girl, you're hot!"
Sullivan smirked. "If I even so much as see your dick, Grisham, I'll have it in my souvenir case."
The other teammates hooted, slapping Grisham on the head.
King stopped the show with a question. "I can understand him being healed and all; with all of the funky stuff down there, but how come you're a chick?"
Sullivan hung his arm around Summers. "I have Liz to thank for that. One of the Virus' had mutagenic properties. It happened hen she tried to resuscitate me. The doctors figure when she gave me mouth to mouth, I ingested enough of her saliva to promote a change."
Anderson chimed in. "Muta-what?"
"Mutagenic. It means that her DNA mixed with mine and the virus' thought it was supposed to mix the two."
King explained further. "So she's like a Summers/Sullivan milkshake."
Sullivan took the closest seat and flipped it around, straddling it.
"Leave it to you to put advanced science into food terms, King."
Grisham rose to take a better look at his changed teammate. "I see you have Summers' fashion sense."
Sullivan looked down at her clothing. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Standard S.T.A.R.S. issue navy blue combat fatigues. Actually the only items of clothing that changed were the underwear. An even then that was just the addition of a sports bra, and a more feminine version of his tighty-whities.
"Sorry I'm not in skirts and heals, Grisham?"
Grisham's face reddened at the obvious implications of that statement. Sexual preferences didn't have a place at S.T.A.R.S. As long as you held up your end of the team. Don't ask, don't tell. But as everything goes, interpersonal relations with the same sex was frowned upon.
Even though Sullivan was technically female, now, no more than four weeks ago she was male. If Grisham showed any interest now, it might be construed as something else.
"Uh ... no."
Anderson slapped a hand on Grisham's shoulder. "Too bad for you, buddy. So, you back to work, already, Sully?"
Sullivan shook her head. "I have two more weeks down time, and I have to re-qualify on the physical before they'll release me for active duty."
Pool flicked off the monitor. "That means you too, Summers. You're still assigned to Sully for the duration."
The two female member of the team stood and made their exit. Sullivan closed the door behind them.
"You were awful quiet in there, Summers. What's up?"
Summers cut herself short in speech. "Just not in the mood."
"You're pissed that you don't have an entire bunk house for yourself, aren't you?"
Summers dove face first onto her bed. "I'm tired, Sully. I just want to sleep."
Sullivan raised her eyebrows. "S'cool. I'll just go shave my legs or some stupid shit."
"You do that."
What the hell is up her ass?
Sullivan took a seat at the other end of the bunk house. Liz Summers had helped out tremendously over the last two weeks with the transition. It seemed odd to Sullivan that she should be giving her the cold shoulder, now.
Maybe she's just burned out. I know if I had to hold someone's hand all this time, I'd be a nervous wreck. But hell, I'm the one with his ... her life turned upside down thanks to that crap down in The Hive.
Sullivan watched as Liz slept.
It's weird that I'm not more freaked out being a girl and all. It's not like I changed all that much. I'm still the same 5'11. At leased I didn't shrink.
Sullivan's body mass depleted slightly, trimming her legs and expanding her rear a bit. Her emerging breasts never grew to large proportions. She could even go without a bra never fearing of sagging as she aged.
Like that's at the top of my priority list.
Her main concern was being able to continue her career with S.T.A.R.S. She had invested way too much time over the last three years with her education, and the previous five years with her combat and defensive skills to ready herself for the rigors of the daily life of her work.
Secondary concerns were, more personal. Adjusting to life a female with a lifetime of male experience, and exactly what to about her sex life.
As Sean, he didn't have a problem finding a date on Saturday night. However the sexual orientation didn't change with the gender. She was still, very much, attracted to the female of the species ... Liz Summers, in particular.
Liz was always one of the guys on mission, but off time was another thing entirely. But that is a relationship-could-have-been in the past. Sullivan knew that she was true blue straight. Summers even had 'night after' stories to back up her solid iron outer persona.
I'm so screwed.
"I thought you said you were gonna shave those cacti?"
Sullivan was shaken from her cat nap at the corner recliner.
"I'm not that girlie, yet, Summers."
"You'll be sorry when it comes to date night, girl. Guys don't like hairy legs when they're pumping away."
Sullivan glared at his roomie. "Ain't gonna happen, Liz. This girl is all man, inside."
Summers balked. "Shit, don't let Pool find out. They sort of frown on that lesbian shit around here... unless they can watch."
"I'm not a lesbian, Liz. I'm a guy."
"Have you taken a look in the mirror, lately?"
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah I do. But you better make a show of it, if nothing else. You'll never make officer if you don't."
"You ready for your workout?"
"You're not pissed at me anymore?"
"Sully, when I get tired, I get cranky. Nothing personal, okay."
"Up it another ten pounds."
"Jesus, Sully you're benching 175. You weren't doing that when you were a guy."
Sullivan smiled. A thin layer of sweat coated her body enough to give her skin a high sheen. "Milk does a body good."
Summers scanned the clipboard. "If you keep this up then the physical should be no problem. Hell, you'll probably break a few company records in the process."
Sullivan started his next series of reps.
Summers set the clipboard down to spot the lift. "So anymore thoughts as to this Saturday?"
Sullivan exhaled and pushed away another rep. "If you mean 'Am I gonna get laid?' No."
"That's not what I mean, but you should at least go out, maybe a bit of dancing?"
"I don't dance, Liz."
Liz laughed. "With that body of yours, you can't not dance."
"You been checking me out, Liz?"
Summers laughed it off. "Unless you've grown a dick in the last half hour, I don't think so."
Sullivan nodded and pushed the free-weights back onto the cradle. She sat up and blotted her brow with a towel. "Look, Liz. I have accepted this ... change, because there is nothing much I can do about it. I can deal with being a woman, because it won't change anything in my work, but I can't deal with going out with a guy right now ... if ever."
"Then just go out with me."
Sullivan's eyebrows lifted. "You askin' me out on a date?"
Liz smirked. "Don't get your hopes up, Sully. I don't put out on the first date."
Sullivan tried desperately to think of a way out of the situation. "All I have to wear is my S.T.A.R.S. issue."
"You can wear one of my outfits, we're about the same size, now."
"We just need to do something with that hair."
Sullivan looked a bit self-conscience. "What, it's reg."
"For a guy, yeah." She thought about it for a few moments, then grabbed her cell phone. She paused, waiting for the connection. "Cheryl ... Liz. I have a project for you tomorrow, you free? ... cool, see you then."
Sullivan held her head in resignation.
"You have a five o'clock with my stylist tomorrow. You might want to clear the following couple of hours."
Sullivan met up with Liz at the prearranged time and place, outside of the salon where her pride was about to take a severe beating.
"Damn, Sully. Couldn't you have at least worn something not official."
"I like the outfit. I'm a S.T.A.R.S. chick, through and through."
Liz shook her head. "Well as of now, you are off duty and getting ready for tonight's dance fest."
The two, headed inside and met up with the salon's sole occupant.
"Cheryl, this is Shawn Sullivan. She needs the works."
Cheryl's face dropped. "Oh dear."
"You got your work cut out for you today, I'm guessing." Sullivan quipped.
"What happened to your hair, dear?"
Liz didn't give her time to answer. "I was thinking extensions until her hair grows out. What do you think?"
Cheryl gave Sullivan the once over. " I think ... a color change, extensions, a facial. Let me see your nails, dear. Oh yes, new nails, how are the legs."
Cheryl clucked her tongue. "You have really let yourself go, dear."
Minutes turn into hours, it seemed. Coloring, burning, washing, rinsing, an hour having her hair tugged and shoulder-length extensions attached. Her legs were being ripped apart from the wax job that Liz was performing. All in the name of beauty.
"Lucky you barely have enough hair to do this, sugar." Cheryl commented. "Now for the nails."
Sullivan had convinced the two women to use sport length. She really didn't want to explain to her team why she had to have dragon-lady's.
Two hours turned to three, and it was over.
She felt raw, but she also felt ... something she couldn't put her finger on ... female, maybe?"
"You look good, Sully." Liz commented proudly. "Cheryl, I'm gonna go get changed. Can you help Shawn with her outfit?"
She didn't wait for a response.
Sullivan turned around to find Cheryl holding a small piece of red cloth with strings hanging pell-mell.
Sullivan almost back away. "That's it?"
Music pounded, loud enough to be heard a block away. Heels clicked on wet pavement. It had rained during their time spent in transforming into club meat.
"Thanks, for the boots, at least."
Liz laughed. "No prob, Sully. You would have broken your neck in my heels anyway. And I don't want you falling and messing up that outfit. I haven't even worn it yet."
Sullivan looked down. "You call this an outfit? I feel completely nude. I just have a piece of cloth barely covering my front and my ass is hanging out every which way."
"It's called ass cleavage, Sully. It's all the rage."
Sullivan shook her head. "If someone sticks a finger in my crack, their drawing back a nub."
"Time to be a girl, Sully."
The club entrance was just across the street. Liz and Shawn cut to the front amongst moans and cat calls from the lengthy line trailing the side of the warehouse.
"Hey Bruce, this is my new roomie, Shawn."
The bouncer nodded greetings. "Hey Lizzie. Go on in."
Liz grabbed Shawn's hand and pulled her behind as she entered the warehouse. Cigarette smoke and the smell of alcohol was thick, and the music was loud, industrial. It wasn't normally Sullivan's cup of tea, but then what was, nowadays.
Liz seemed to be in her element. "Shots first, then we dance." She yelled.
Shawn didn't offer any argument. In fact she needed more than one shot if she was going to make it through the night.
Stolie's for Summers, Wild Turkey Reserve for Sullivan.
"Still drinkin' like a man, Sully?"
Sullivan shrugged and tossed back a third shot, grimacing. Apparently her new taste buds need a little coaxing in the right direction for quality booze.
Liz flipped her shot glass and slammed it on the bar. Shawn followed suit before being half dragged to the dance floor.
She watched as Liz hopped, shook, and bounced, throwing herself back and forth in a silent rhythm that only she could disseminate from the hard drums and guitar. After a moment of studying, Shawn followed suit, trying her best to copy her ad hoc date.
It was then that she noticed the couples dancing. She was surrounded by women dancing with other women. Her head turned to the people against the walls, kissing. Women. It was a lesbian bar.
Sullivan waited until the song was over, which was about fifteen minutes, before she made her move. She pulled Liz closer, so she could hear her over the new mix.
"You brought me to a gay bar?"
Liz laughed. "You just noticed?" She continued laughing. "I thought it would make you more comfortable."
"You come here often?" Sullivan asked.
"Uh .. no. It's just for you ... yanno."
"Then why did the bouncer know your name?"
Liz was busted and she knew it.
"I'm gay, you twit."
Sullivan almost fell down. Well that's convenient.
"And you call yourself a scientist? Great powers of observation."
"But ... but all those times that you ... all those guys were ..."
"A cover story." She shook her head. "Look I just want to dance, we can talk about this later, away from the noise. 'kay?"
The two girls leaned on one another, for support, on the walk back to their quarters. Many more drinks had been consumed and their effects were felt, strongly.
Liz fumbled with her keys for a minute until she found the hole and released the lock, opening the door. Shawn entered first and Liz leaned on the door admiring the view.
Shawn noticed her teammate hadn't closed the door and turned catching Liz.
Liz laughed. "No shit."
Shawn took her arm and placed it around her shoulder, pulling Liz toward her bed, and kicking the door closed behind her. Liz kicked off her shoes on the way and gained a better footing.
When they reached Liz's bed, Shawn moved around and tried to lay her companion down but was duped for the second time that night when Liz pulled her along.
Liz laughed. "Want to give that new body of yours a test run, Shawn?
Fear and trepidation gripped Sullivan in that instant.
"I like it when you call me Shawn."
Liz smiled. "Then quit fucking around and take your clothes off, wench."
Shawn smiled and reached around, pulling the one string on the outfit that made it fall to the floor as she leaned up. Liz leaned with her and placed her mouth between her new lover's breasts, trailing a tongue back and forth, eventually leading to a bare nipple.
Shock waves exploded through Shawn's body at the gentle suckling from Liz's talented mouth.
"Oh ... shit..."
The next morning brought revelations galore for Sullivan. She learned that she shouldn't consume so much liquor in one sitting until her body gets readjusted to that habit. She also learned that she wasn't so worried about being a girl anymore; as long as she had Liz.
She gripped her half full coffee mug and rested her aching head on the cool imitation wood lounge table in the rec room.
Grisham waltzed in merrily. "Hard night, Sully?"
Sullivan couldn't resist. "It was the biggest cock I have ever seen, Grisham, and it lasted all night long."
Who cares if it was made of rubber and was strapped to my new lover.
Grisham dropped his mug.
© 2002 by Heather Sinclair. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.