the same accident that caused the loss of his leg at age six also stimulated the latent genetics that ran in his family to trigger a mutation. Although becoming one of the ‘exo-humans’ the government monitored would prove to be the least of his worries once he stumbled upon his family’s secret.

Karen knew she needed to have another talk with Henry. If he was playing like her agent now, he was in deep trouble. Taking care of her finances was one thing, but this was something entirely different. Maybe it wasn't Henry? Bob Kincaid would gain a lot if he could pull off this trick. Someone always seemed to be manipulating her life lately and she wasn't being consulted. It use to be so simple before the accident. All she had to do was go to work and do her job, nothing more, nothing less.

He didn't like anything he was looking at. The gauges didn't show any signs of life when he flipped the switches. Everything was dead. This wasn't good. There was no noise from below to tell him the little diesel was even trying to start when he turned the switches on.

He dropped down into the galley where Karen was pumping water into the sink. "I don't have any batteries this morning. I think I forgot to turn off the radios last night and the mooring lights drained everything."

He opened the hatch leading into the engine room. Karen could hear him complaining about boats in general, as he tried to crank the diesel over by hand.

A reporter for the "Midside Courier" has an unusual interview with an inside source.
What she will learn will not only change the lives of her readers but also her own.
Provided she still can write that exposing article ...

Tamara is the head witch of a small town.
It is her duty to evaluate those applying for entering the coven.
As she is about to interview Miss Alexa Greene Tamara's world is about to be flipped upside down.

There wasn't one single company capable of matching the quality of work Karen and Henry were doing. Most of them tried to duplicate her work by ordering a model and disassembling it to find out how she accomplished it. Piece by piece, their lab technicians would dissect her models. At the end they experienced the same results as the medical research laboratories. Except for being polymer instead of skin and bone, it was an exact duplicate of the entire human anatomy. The programming she was running to complete one model had to be horrendous and yet she never made two models alike. The bytes of data Karen was using was incomprehensible to most model makers. They weren't programmers though, most of them were chemical engineers designing the plastics used in their manufacturing. Karen was a computer engineer who worked on the design of the models from a graphics equation perspective. Henry helped research the plastics used to build the models. Same problem to all the companies competing in the model market. Different approach by the engineers.

CHAPTER V

The days and weeks settled into some resemblance of order for David and Karen. By the end of the month, David had over two hundred mice with fuzzy feet. Karen laughed at him as she told him it would take very tiny clippers to shear them. She certainly didn't think the sheep industry should be worried yet. It would take a lot more mice than what David had to make one pair of mittens.

The weeks were passing and Karen and Henry kept improving the chamber in order to speed up the manufacturing duplication process. Henry was the one to suggest a major change in the way they made the models.

the same accident that caused the loss of his leg at age six also stimulated the latent genetics that ran in his family to trigger a mutation. Although becoming one of the ‘exo-humans’ the government monitored would prove to be the least of his worries once he stumbled upon his family’s secret.

If you read this and think "I have read this already, please return to part nine, that was a glitch in posting. Part nine has new content, that needs to go before this, Sorry!

As Beth walked back to her office Karen started up her car. Now if she could get by Max, she would see if she could find a parking space in the tower. People who showed up late for work usually ended up parking across the street from Comm Tech and walking a half mile to work. If she was lucky someone would have already come and left today leaving her a spot.

Karl Adder was in a rage. He had made a big show of letting everyone know he was being promoted to head of the duplication department. All his personal things were still boxed up for the move. His just rewards had been taken from him more times than he could tolerate. He made everyone within reach pay for his misery. Verbally abusing those around him, he soon had everyone in his department filing for a transfer. It didn't do any good. They couldn't transfer out because no one would transfer in to take their place. There were only two ways to escape the hell Karl was spreading in his department. One was, quit the company, or two, if someone hired on and you happened to be the worker with the most seniority then maybe, just maybe, you might get a transfer. The new help would take your place in Karl's little office of hell.

The day started off quietly enough. Karen awoke to find herself wondering if she dreamed it all. Looking in the mirror didn't help. Maybe she only thought about cutting her hair and fingernails last night before she went to bed? She was still looking at the model she and Henry designed two days ago. Be thankful for small favors, she decided. At least she didn't have to apply hardly any makeup. Everything was designed in. She couldn't change it now.

Evidence

Breathe in. Slowly. Slowly. Breathe. I kept my eyes closed but I sat up. When I opened them Bree handed me a flask. I pulled, not because I wanted to but because that seemed like the thing you did when someone put a flask in your hands. And I coughed, because it was straight whiskey. And I handed it back.

I smoothed the bodice of my dress down. I ran my fingers through my hair and messed it up.

Well that was every calming mechanism I had that I knew of, I turned to Autumn, “Can I have a cigarette?”

Before —
Finally the two got to Carol’s apartment door and after unlocking pushed in. Carol pushed Gill a bit more roughly into the living room than necessary as the rigid control she’d been holding over her emotions relaxed now that she was in a ‘safer’ location, then closed the door locking it and sliding the deadbolt.

As the body she thought ‘might’ contain Gill stood quivering and tightly holding what Carol now had time to observe and confirm was “herself”, Carol’s control slipped and she barked, “All right! Who are you really, and what’s happened to my friends!?!?”

David and Karen made it to the entry door without someone right behind them. As soon as they were inside, Henry used the electronic security lock on the door. People could still get out by pushing on the crash bars, but it would be a minute before he unlocked the door and allowed anyone to get in. He would make sure no one followed David and Karen to their labs.

Slowly, the rest of what she had seen, but hadn't yet grasped, dawned on her. Looking down at her breasts, she held them as her mind raced in desperation searching for solid ground. Her reasoning and sanity were in doubt. A blizzard of questions and answers swirled in and out of her mind. Nothing was there she could comprehend. Questions screamed for proper answers. Her mind searched in a futile effort to snatch logic from a whirlpool of illogical, irrational denominators. There wasn’t a match anywhere.

Piercing

“So?”

“So what?”

“So are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” This was a text conversation I’m considerately putting into conversation form, between Big Davey and me. I was zoning out and trying not to remember the way his lips closed over the head of my phantom dick, while I browsed instagram. My phantom dick had not made an appearance in the two days since it had been sucked to completion. In the time since I had told no one and while it filled my fantasies I wasn’t eager to talk about it.

TW: Transphobia

Death is weird..

It certainly wasn’t what I expected.
A little over 2 months ago, I died in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. I’d convinced my friends that I wasn’t that drunk and that I'd be able to drive home no problem. I never made it.

I don’t know what I expected to happen after that but it certainly wasn’t waking up the very next morning.

This story is my second story taking place in the Forgotten universe. I thought it would be fun to explore a time where the religion and superhumans were interconnected in a time not well explored in the superhero genre. Thus, while they are still superhumans, they are called Blessed during this time period and their abilities (superpowers) are called Blessings. However, I also decided to introduce a rather unknown aspect of Forgotten's history in this story. I had planned to introduce it Forgotten around the chapter 20 mark, but decided, why not here. Also, I'm aware that a large portion of the story is not written in the 18th-century style, nor do I actually take the time to write a British accent out. This is because I don't know how to. if I plan to rewrite it in the future, I will try to address these issues then, but for now, enjoy the story as is.

Why the ranger was addressing me “hon” and “miss”? According to my survival rule I didn’t question a person in the uniform no matter how much I wanted to know what was so girly in my appearance. When I left my home yesterday I looked like someone in between of Robert Englund and Dolph Lundgren, sixty-seven years old and hair in a regular cut. I was never in my life mistaken for a female.