Sample – Gamer Girl: Player 2

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The internet, Franklin mused, was a big place. There were the search engines and shopping portals that served as the superficial uses for most people, but Franklin realized early on that the internet was all about information, and, like the detective stories he liked so much, Franklin understood that the internet could tell you anything, find anything, take you anywhere… you just had to know where to look and who to ask.

For Franklin, and he always used the full name, never Frank, the internet was a place to fulfill his hidden desires and become what he had always dreamed of – a fully realized woman. At first, his internet searches had been largely pornographic in nature, but such purient desires only fueled the deeper need to feel feminine, to experience it as a reality. He found sites that used herbs or chemicals to introduce female hormones and create a more feminine shape, but it was too slow, too unpredictable and, most of all, too permanent. It wasn’t until he heard about NuWay that Franklin thought there might be another option.

Those dark corners of the web Franklin haunted were abuzz with rumors of NuWay and their research. While the company was shut down, now, the result of a lawsuit brought against the them, the details of NuWay’s downfall were always shrouded in mystery, reports of genetic manipulation and brainwashing haunting the more public claims that the company was reckless in its use of human test subjects. What prompted the first whispers was the relative invisibility of the so-called test subjects, those who had somehow been affected by NuWay’s liberal research policies, yet not a one of them appeared on camera decrying the corporate monster or joining a panel on a cable news show to show what horrible things had been done to them.

Then, the pictures surfaced. Side-by-side comparisons of “victims” of NuWay’s technology. On the left, a typical male face, the adjacent picture so totally changed, so completely feminine, it seemed unbelievable at first. A few posts on blog pages that delved into non-surgical feminization techniques suggested that these images were of the NuWay Girls, as they were quickly labeled. One of the girls, who had been someone named Michael before and now answered to Vicki, allowed an interview on one of the blogs and confirmed that she had been wholly remade via NuWay’s efforts.

That’s when the scramble began. Of course NuWay’s offices and servers were shutdown, as was their research department, but the proverbial cat was out of the bag. A small group was convinced that the clothing and programming NuWay provided was a path to something more than playing lab rat for a giant corporation. It was a way to expressing one’s true self. And that was precisely what Franklin, and others like him, intended to do. Scouring the IRC chatrooms and his familiar stable of transgender websites, Franklin learned that there were a number of clothing sets from NuWay’s labs loose in the wild. Apparently a technician for the company felt his golden parachute wasn’t quite so golden and sold the remaining fabric for a hefty sum. Along with that came the source program for NuLife, the interactive designer for the fabric. Superficially just a video game, the code revealed its deeper purpose – to train the body and mind to emulate the character created in the software. For all intents and purposes, the NuWay fabric and software could change someone inside and out.

While some might have characterized Franklin’s life as one of idleness and waste, he considered himself a bit of an explorer, striking off into the dark recesses of the web where true and dangerous magic lived.

When his parents died, Franklin was devastated. He was just eighteen, barely old enough to register how fundamentally his life would change in the wake of their deaths. They had been wealthy people when they met, and Franklin’s parents invested wisely, leaving him enough money for three lifetimes. He took up residence in the family home, too large for one person, certainly, but Franklin enjoyed the cavernous entryway and the deep wood that composed the echoing hallways and high-ceilinged rooms. He had a cleaning service come in once a week to dust and service the house, but he found himself alone most of the time.

At first, he’d indulged in parties and long weekends where booze and pills and pot were available to anyone staggering through the house, the unending sound of dance music filling the manor until it seemed to reach the farthest rooms. It was during one of these lost parties Franklin was given the itch, the one that led him to NuWay.

She was thin, small-chested, with a dyed-red bob that rustled like silk when she shook her head or threw it back to laugh. He was captivated by her from the moment she arrived, brought along by a more voluptuous friend. He wondered if she felt inadequate next to the curvy blonde, a girl named Katie, if Franklin remembered correctly. He set about meeting the pixie-ish girl, and found her not long after standing with her back against the wall in the kitchen, watching as Katie was lifted by her ankles to do a keg stand, the two young men holding her aloft exchanging lecherous glances with one another as they held Katie’s legs.

Should you call her a cab?” Franklin asked the girl, nodding to Katie.

No, she’ll be fine. I won’t leave her alone with these two.”

If you have any trouble, let me know and I’ll kick them out.”

What are you, the owner?” she laughed, and that electric red hair swayed again.

I am,” Franklin said with a sly smile, enjoying the flush on the redhead’s cheeks. “My name’s Franklin. If you ever aren’t on friend duty, maybe you’d like to talk?”

They chatted a while longer, and Franklin learned her name was Chrissie, such a slight name for a girl who had such a rich interior life. She was sarcastic without being cruel, lovely without being obvious, her voice rich and warm. Talking to Chrissie was like being in a bubble, impenetrable by the world around them.

After an intervention by Chrissie, Katie was put to bed in one of the house’s many guest rooms, and the young men who had lusted after her were sent home unsatisfied. Franklin and Chrissie sat on an antique sofa in the library, a large two-floor room that smelled of musty books and polished wood, and talked until Chrissie placed her head in Franklin’s lap and slept, Franklin’s hand on her side, watching her as she breathed.

 

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