Bodies of Works

Par : Phebe Elliott
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  • FormatePub
  • ISBN8215459409
  • EAN9798215459409
  • Date de parution14/11/2022
  • Protection num.pas de protection
  • Infos supplémentairesepub
  • ÉditeurWMG Publishing

Résumé

"He" is about to find himself in a new world, a new mindset and a new body. This will be a shock to him and will change "her" forever. When "he" visits the hosue of a scientist, things change forever. Son he becomes her and the good doctor wants obedience and servitute from her. Strangely this only makes her happy. What will this life be like? How will she accept it?  EXCERPT: Anne took the offering in silence, her mouth still open, her eyes still glazed.
But as the scientist withdrew from her, the bouncing wavelength on the monitor spiked dramatically, then flatlined. Anne slumped, her silent scream degenerating into a cartoon clown smile. "Anne? Anne? Damn you!" Miller slapped her ass hard, but the co-ed didn't move. "You're breathing, you stupid cow-- I know that! Now get up-- your Master commands you! Remember your programming! GET UP! YOU HAVE TO OBEY!!!" Anne acknowledged her self-proclaimed master with a child- like giggle.
It was a sound Phillip never wanted to hear again-- a mad, nonsensical sound that denied sanity. As Miller cursed himself, and busily dressed the insensible girl, Phillip left quietly. And had made the call the next morning at 9:00 am. Miller left quietly. Publicly it was said that he and MIT had parted over differences in research techniques, the implication that MIT was stifling the genius. He left to form his own consulting business for pharmaceutical, computer and industrial companies, though he remained local.
Rumors abounded about Anne, though nothing was ever confirmed. It was said that she had "suffered a shock" from one of Miller's experimental devices involving chemical compounds and weird computer configurations. The well-funded university paid the parents dearly and the poor girl was sent to recuperate in the Midwest, though in fact no change in her status was ever reported back. And that was who Phillip was going to call for help.
He felt guilt creep into his wrist as he dialed the number, then put the receiver down. No, he'd leave him an e-mail through the Internet instead. Relief flooded him. He turned to the PC resting on his desktop. The machine was on-- it was always on- - and began typing in a message to Miller.
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