Allison 3260, formerly Patryk 6112, has been confirmed by the court—the interpreters of law on the welcoming station—as a Woman of Child Bearing Age, after a now former friend, Adam, reported her to the authorities for ‘imitation.’ She thought she was all alone when Adam left her, telling her to, “Enjoy your new life,” until an excited Angie, a woman she’s drank with before, sought her out and gave her two options; go shoe shopping with her because no women would be caught dead in a pair of ugly boots, or go to her women’s doctor to get checked over.

Allison chose the doctor. Doctors are private, and maybe a doctor could help? Or tell her what the hell was happening? And women’s doctors are actually doctors, educated and trained voters, experts in medicine. Allison, however, has no idea what that means for her. A doctor means privacy and maybe some answers, but who knows what a doctor—a voter—actually wants with her? Especially on a weekend; the two days everyone takes off if possible. Allison already knew this was serious, but what does all this actually mean? How has she legally become a woman? Surely this is impossible?

On a welcoming station deep in space Patryk, a 24 year old, has shirked all his adult responsibilities. He gets by fine. The station is host to an unequal society, but no-one goes hungry. This suits Patryk as he bumbles through life, keeping himself to himself and going to parties, while resting in whatever temporary accommodation he can secure for a few weeks at a time.

When Patryk’s idiosyncrasies about sleeping at parties comes up again he finds his way to a safe bed, in a room that had obviously been host to criminality. What he discovers there, or more who discovers him, begins Patryk on a path he never even dreamt of. At least he thinks so. Patryk has never remembered his dreams.

If you're a regular BCTS reader you can read here or on Royal Road. I'd suggest here, and that Royal Road visitors click around looking for other trans fiction that might interest you (a lot less LitRPG though.) For Allison/BCTS people BCTS has better functionality for allowing me to interact with readers, and I've written a decent amount here. Allison Zero will continue to appear here. As you'll be aware BCTS is a community, Royal Road is simply another one I'm exploring.

To Return Home

Thanks to Malady for his help editing and for ideas.

Cover image from Unsplash

3.1

“Why me!?” John exploded.

“You are his brother,” came the dulcet tones of the construct speaking to us.

To Return Home

Thanks to Malady for his help editing and for ideas.

Cover image from Unsplash

2.6

As it’s been a little while since I last posted any of this story, I’m going to give a “When we last saw our protagonist…”

From Chapter 2.5

“You’re not acting predictably,” Paula told me.

“I just lost my husband,” I exploded. “Would you care to explain what is predictable about that?”

She sat down, and her demeanor softened. “My bots aren’t able to predict how you’re going to react to things right now.”

Paula turned her attention from me to Carla. “Are you saying you can communicate directly to your bots?”

I was shocked as well. “How can you do that?” I asked. “I asked mine a question a couple of days ago, but I could only talk to them in a dream.”

Carla appeared uncomfortable. “I suppose it’s something that I learned while Amos was in control.”

I shrank away in fear. “Don’t touch me!” I screamed, terrified. “Get away from me!”

“What’s going on!?” Carla was very confused now.

“He’s still here! He killed John, and he’s still in you!” I tried to back away having no control over my actions.

Paula grabbed me as I flailed my arms at my little sister. “Perhaps you should leave and let her calm down,” I heard her say.

I was crying uncontrollably now, the pain of the last few days taking over.

And now on to 2.6...

We are guilty for all the suffering we produce to others. Following the orders like a blind horse does not excuse us from this (an officer in the 2nd world war).

Caution: contains a discussion about sexual relations in the future

Julia and Sandra graduated the Galileo university on Callisto - Jupiter with good marks. They are the first hermaphrodite couple ever to do so and the first couple in history to change gender from male (Sandra - David) and female (Julia) to hermaphrodite. The year is 2541.

The beginning of the end is the end of the beginning (unknown philosopher).

The whole world witnessed it. A red supergiant star, Betelgeuse, exploded in a supernova. That star had only one terraformed planet, Betelgeuse VII. 96% of the population was rescued and relocated to a sister planet, Betelgeuse S, located at ten light years away. Press in the whole galaxy commented about this event.

Only the best bait will catch the biggest fish (ancient saying).

How could anyone settle near a star that will soon go supernova? How was it possible to convince millions of people to go there and start a new life? Had they no idea that soon nothing but ashes will remain of them?

It’s been another week on the run, I’m almost back on course, and I’m horny.

Really horny.

Really really horny.

How horny am I? I’m beginning to think seriously about toys.

Ci and Lia either didn’t have any or didn’t want to use them on me, and for that I’m thankful. I squirmed every time they tried to put something in my pussy, and after only one night they stopped trying.

Finally Carolyn pings me, and I have to put on pants. They’ve got the money.

To Ci’s mind, I check my terminal, then get up and immediately start dressing. I don’t have any way of telling her where I’m going, or that I plan to come back.

Do I plan to come back? Eleven wouldn’t have come back. 11 will.

Something has broken deep inside me. I cry on the inside, laying in their arms, while I try to process what has happened. Something has happened inside my head and it’s devastating.

Sometimes a hooker would cry after sex. I tried to get offended, but the truth was, I never really cared that much. Not even enough to look down on them for it.

Now the emotional tole of the last two days, hell the last three months, is hitting me more deeply than I thought I could feel. These damn lesbians have mind-fucked me.

I stir myself awake, and look around for a clock. They pulled the chip with my watch in it, so there are no little numbers on my wrist. I check anyway, like I’ve been doing for months.

There’s one on a table. I’ve been asleep for almost ten hours. Good for you, Eleven. A third of the day, just like they recommend. I sleep too much on the ship.

I lounge in the sheets for awhile. They’re very good quality. I think this is because this bed used to belong downstairs, and who wants to stay in a whorehouse with cheap sheets?

I fold up the dress really well, and it fits into the new purse. The old purse also fits in there. It’s not large and baggy, but I can fit a surprising amount inside. I sling it over my shoulder, and pose again. It’s perfect with the jeans and the jacket.

Hand on the door handle. Deep breath. Step through the door. No. Strut though the door. “I’m gonna wear these out,” I tell Marcus. It’s probably the boots that are making my hips move like that. I’m pretty sure I’m not doing it on my own.

I step out of the hanger, into the core, on the zero level, and there’s just ringed corridor with some personal elevators, and a bunch more freight lifts. D’Neesha’s is on level 2? I find the button, which is on a box, suspended from the ceiling, by a cable. The lift doesn’t close, just jerks to a start. I watch the innards of the tube scroll past, and look out on the first level for a moment.

I’m getting a welcome signal. Someone wants me to come visit them.

There’s a little HAM Digital receiver in the flight deck. I picked it up in a truck stop, with a wink and a nod, for $100 bucks, ten years ago. It’s about the size of a lunch box, with a four foot antenna cluttering up the deck. I’ve got a pretty heft load on the antenna, so it’s strong enough to pick up from inside the ship. There’s no jack for an antenna on the surface hull, and it would get melted into vapor on re-entry in any case.

Okay. I’m ready to touch my pussy now.

The clothes have me hotter than ever. I turn off the monitors, then turn them all back on again. Why do I want to watch myself? Why wouldn’t I want to watch myself? I’m hot as hell.

Still in the stockings and heels, still squatting, my fingers run down my chest to my stomach. It’s a straight line to the tip of my clit. On the monitors I can see it peaking out of my engorged lips. I don’t go straight for it, I’ve been around the block a few times. I know what a woman wants.

What this woman wants is tantalization.