From: Edwin Gay <gaye@delphi.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: TG: Crossed Wires (Virtual body switch)
Date: Sat, 22 Oct 94 21:26:45 -0500
Organization: Delphi (info@delphi.com email, 800-695-4005 voice)
Lines: 1113
Message-ID: <5ixXqLF.gaye@delphi.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: bos1b.delphi.com

                      CROSSED WIRES

 

"Chris, you're positively leering!" Donna scolded.

 

I tried to hide my guilty blush by turning all my attention to

checking the electrode contacts.  But it was too late, I'd been

caught.

 

"You're planning to grow yourself to 10 inches again!  You are!  I've

told I won't suck that thing if it's an inch above 8.  Aha!  You're

blushing.  I'm on to you!  You change the program right now, Chris, or

I swear I won't do the sim with you."

 

"But you won't mind how big I am during the sim," I protested.  "In

fact you'll love it."

 

"Of course I'll love it 'cause it's sim.  But I'll remember every

detail when I come out and it's the principal of the thing!"

 

Heaving an exaggerated sigh I slipped off my wrist electrodes and

turned to the console.  It had been worth a try, but I'd pushed my

luck too far the last time when I programmed the simulation to enlarge

my member to a unprecedented 12".  I'd even taken the precaution of

creating a doctored tape measure within the sim so that if she tried

to call me on the length I could conclusively demonstrate I was "only"

8.  But Donna had seen through that ploy and now was showing me she

meant business.

 

Putting on my most contrite expression I quickly called up the body

editor and reduced the cock length from 10" to 8 1/2".  She won't

notice that extra half inch, I reflected.

 

  Despite this small setback I had reason to be proud.  Over the past

few days I'd programmed this sim down to the minutest details.  When

activated the system would plunge Donna and myself into a virtual

world indistinguishable from the real one in all but two important

respects: we'd have the kind of bodies that one only sees in porn

flicks, and we'd be able to make use of those bodies in all sorts of

fun ways without tiring, getting sore, bruising each other, or

worrying about "consequences".

 

"You're gonna love it, Donna.  This is my best yet.  You won't forget

this one."  I gave her a lascivious wink.  "You'll need a PDA just to

keep track of your orgasm count!"

 

She grinned.  "Well, what are we waiting for?  Let's do it!"

 

One last check of the wrist electrodes.  Green leads for Donna, red

leads for myself.  The programmer always gets the red leads because

they carry the control lines.  I couldn't suppress another little grin

as I remembered the alternative names for the red and the green leads:

"master" and "slave".  I wondered whether Donna knew how appropriate

those names really were.  Did she appreciate exactly how much of my

programming effort was spent specifying exactly what emotional and

bodily sensations she'd feel during the course of the sim so that

she'd perform according to the exact script of my erotic fantasies?

 

Nothing left to do but hit the activator switch.  A slight buzzing at

the wrists, a momentary feeling of pressure and then...

 

Here it was, exactly as I'd designed it.  The sim had dropped us into

the interior of a beach house whose floor plan I'd shamelessly copied

from the October edition of the AIA journal.  Outside, a clear,

moonless night and the distant sound of breakers.  Inside, a rather

eccentric style of interior decoration.  Couches, futons, beanbag

chairs, hammocks, and pillows galore.  Anything and everything that

you ever might want to fuck in, on or under.  Not a table or hard

chair in sight.  (We weren't there to eat, after all.)  I glanced over

to the ladder that led to the sleeping loft.  Looked good. Unobtrusive

cabinets set in the walls here and there would open to reveal a

panoply of useful toys.  Mirrors, of course.  Not too many to be

vulgar, but enough.  I sniffed the faint salt breeze, ran my hands

over the rough surface of pine paneling.  I beamed in delight. Visual,

aural, olfactory and somatosensory channels were all working

perfectly.

 

I had programmed the simulation to delay initiating the body morph for

a few minutes.  Donna had materialized a few yards away from me and

was checking the place out, approvingly running her fingers over the

patterned silk upholstery of one of the sofas.  Her outline had a

slightly shimmery look as she moved around relative to the background,

but this would soon disappear as the sim's compensation routines

kicked in.  "Better get a good look around now, Donna," I thought to

myself, "because in a couple of minutes all your attention is going to

be taken up by something else entirely!"

 

The morph was beginning.  I could feel the vibration in my groin and

chest.  In some ways this was the part I enjoyed the most.  In a

moment my limbs would start to bulge with musculature.  My abdomen

would harden, my pecs would swell.  My stature would increase by an

inch, my complexion would become impeccable, my teeth would become

whiter than white and, of course...  Well, as you already know, the

crotch of my pants would bulge with the aforementioned

eight-and-a-half inches of man meat and a pair of balls that would do

a bull proud.  Goodbye Chris Welch, average guy.  Hello super-stud!

 

Wait.  This didn't feel quite right.  Was something wrong?  Instead of

the expected tightening at the crotch of my pants, things felt looser

somehow.  In fact there was this really bizarre shrinking sensation.

Not just in my groin, but like my whole body was getting smaller.  And

those twin swellings on my chest that were making my shirt bulge:

those weren't pectorals, those were...!  I swung around to stare at

the nearest mirror just as I realized what was happening.  I was

changing, my features melting with the rapidity of a bar of butter

caught in the microwave.  My chin receded, became delicate.  My

cheekbones became higher and more prominent and the ridge of my

eyebrows less so.  My nose shrank and assumed a pert upward turn at

the tip.  My lips swelled and reddened.  Long eyelashes swept upward

from limpid blue eyes.  Blonde tresses caressed my shoulders.

 

I was so caught up in the horror and fascination of what was happening

to my face that I almost missed the transformation of my body.

Recovering myself I found that the changes below the neck were the

match of those above.  Firm, heavy breasts bobbed above a slender

waist.  Flaring hips and long sexy legs.  My genitals?  I started to

reach downward for an inspection and then checked myself.  I could

guess what I would (wouldn't?) find.

 

The morph had finished with my body and was at work on my clothes.  My

flannel shirt took on a life of its own and squirmed snakelike across

my chest, transforming itself into a translucent violet teddy with a

neckline plunging to the navel and a hem that barely covered my ass.

Starting at the ankles and working upwards, my pants began to

evaporate, finally leaving a skimpy pair of filmy panties pulled tight

across my ass crack and my snatch.

 

I stared at my image in the mirror, the truth slowly sinking in.  The

transformation was complete.  I was the spitting image of Donna, or at

least Donna as she might appear in the wet dreams of a sex-starved 15

year old with a perpetual hard-on.  A steamy sex kitten with pouty

lips, and langorous heavy-lidded eyes.  A body that cried out to be

fucked hard.  In short, the body I had so carefully designed for my

partner!

 

"What in hell trick are you pulling, Chris?" thundered a deep bass

voice from behind me.  A strong hand grasped my shoulder from behind.

"Donna"! I thought as I whirled around, my tits bouncing around so

much that I almost lost balance.  Staring down at me with an

expression of shocked amusement was ... me.  Me on steroids and a

heavy exercise program.  Donna had the body that I was supposed to be

wearing.  Everything from the athlete's musculature to the full chest

of hair.  She wore nothing but a black g-string, whose fabric was

stretched to nearly the breaking point from the weight of its

contents.  With a height differential of nearly a foot, I had to crane

my head upward to look into Donna's/my face.  This was too

disconcerting, so I settled for looking into the hollow at the base of

her neck.

 

"This wasn't --" I broke off at hearing my new voice for the first

time.  Donna's voice, but pitched slightly higher and with an almost

imperceptible lisp that gave it a cutesy girlish effect.  I swallowed

once and continued.  "Donna, I didn't plan this.  Something must have

gone wrong with the sim.  We'll have to abort.

 

"Computer, abort sim."

 

Nothing happened.  I tried again in as authoritative a tone as my

little girl voice would allow.  "Computer, end sim immediately."

 

Still no response from the system.  Not the slightest hiccup in

continuity.  Donna gently but firmly took my head in her hands and

tilted my head so that I had to look her directly in the face.

Distractedly I found myself wondering if I hadn't made the chin cleft

too prominent.  "What's the matter," she asked in her deep masculine

voice, "can't you stop the sim?"

 

"The system doesn't seem to be responding to me.  The identity

recognition routines must have gotten scrambled somehow.  If I don't

have the control lines, you must.  You'll have to do it Donna.  Say

'computer, abort sim'."

 

She chuckled deep in her chest and slowly caressed my cheek.  "But you

promised me a sim that I wouldn't forget.  I intend to take you up on

your promise."

 

"Donna, you wouldn't," I whispered.  "You don't know how."

 

Again a chuckle.  "Then I'll just have to figure it out as we go

along, won't I, my little lovebird?"

 

Outwardly I moaned as a sudden wave of erotic desire washed over me.

Inwardly I cringed.  By saying "little lovebird" Donna had

inadvertently hit on one of the trigger phrases I had set up to

activate certain behavior programs.  Too late it occurred to me that

it might be a mistake to use our pet names as triggers.

 

But this was no time for regret.  I was in heat, my whole body aching

to be touched, taken.  I grasped Donna's hand and began to kiss and

lick the fingers, savoring the salty taste of her (his?) skin. Putting

a strong arm behind my back, she (he?) leaned down and kissed me

roughly.  Our lips met and parted, and her strong tongue explored my

mouth.  I felt like I was dissolving with pleasure.  Every square inch

of my skin tingled with delight.  And this was just the first kiss.

What would it be like to be mounted, I thought, to feel a penis push

its way into the deep recesses of my cunt?

 

"Don't think such things," I shouted inwardly.  "You're a man, not a

woman!"  But outwardly what I said was "Oh lover, you turn me on so

much!  Let's go find someplace comfortable."

 

"Whatever you want, kitten," my lover responded, triggering another

set of preprogrammed responses.  Donna picked me up, carrying my body

effortlessly in her (his?) arms.  She strode over to a double-size

beanbag chair and tossed me on to it.

 

This most recent trigger had made me acutely aware of my tits.

Settling myself into the chair I caressed the undersides of my boobs,

pushing them up and together in order to emphasize my cleavage.  With

a long red fingernail I rubbed a tense nipple through the delicate

fabric of my teddy while making sidelong glances at Donna.  "Do you

like my titties?" I lisped.

 

"Very impressive."  Donna lay down beside me and squeezed my left boob

with her sinewy hand.  I let out a gasp of pleasure as lightning

radiated outward from my nipple.  "Size DDD aren't they?"

 

I pouted.  "No sir.  Not more than a D.  I promise.  Oh, please keep

touching me there.  Don't stop."

 

Donna did stop, though, so that she could tug open the top of her

g-string and inspect the contents.  "I see.  Not more than a D.  And I

suppose this big piece of sausage is only 8 inches?"  She tore off the

flimsy fabric, revealing a rock hard erection.

 

In this woman's body I had no control over my expressions.  I blushed

a deep crimson from the roots of my hair down to my chest.  "Well, not

exactly.  But it's only a half inch ..."

 

Donna smiled and chucked me under the chin.  "Under the circumstances

I should be grateful.  Besides, you're the one who's going to have to

suck it,"  she fixed me with a sharp gaze and said deliberately  "my

little cocksucker."

 

I let out a sigh that was funny admixture of relief and sexual

frustration.  She hadn't hit on the right trigger that time.  My tits

were still at the center of my arousal.  I would have given her a boob

job in an instant, but the thought of oral sex didn't push my buttons

just yet.  I rubbed my nipples and imagined her thick cock slowly

working its way in and out between my cleavage.  I think I would have

come that way in a few minutes, but Donna had others things in mind.

 

"Don't you want to suck on me, my lovebird?" she asked.  Instantly my

attention was again focused on the man's body next to mine.  I rolled

over onto her, and gave her such a long and passionate french kiss

that it left me gasping.  With a casual movement, Donna pushed the

straps of my teddy off my shoulders so that my breasts came free, and

I gratefully rubbed them against her chest hair, feeling delicious

tingling sparks with every movement.  I covered Donna's lips with

numerous little kisses and bites, and then moved my mouth to the base

of her neck.  Moaning slightly, I ran my tongue back and forth in the

hollow.

 

Donna put one hand on each shoulder and pushed.  "I think it's time

for fellatio" she insisted.  I slid willingly about four inches, but

when I saw her male nipples peeking out from underneath the curly

chest hair I had the overwhelming desire to suckle.  I took her right

nipple between my lips and sucked and bit slightly.  I was immediately

rewarded by a taughtening of the little pink nipple and a

ill-suppressed groan of pleasure.  I giggled and continued suckling.

 

"Oh baby, that feels so good!" Donna cried out.  But now new desires

were surging through me.  "Baby" was the trigger word for oral sex.  I

straightened up, propping my arms on my lover's shoulders so that I

could look into her handsome face.  "I want to suck you so bad," I

said, licking my lips sluttishly.  "I want to take your cock meat into

my mouth and swallow it whole.  I want to feel your great big balls

bouncing against my chin and your great big cum fill up my mouth."

 

I felt so ashamed to hear these words come out of my mouth in that

inane little girl's voice.  There was nothing I could do.  I had

entered those words into the sim program several days before, and had

not coded them as optional.

 

What had I coded as optional?  Certainly not what happened next.  My

mind was filled with images of cock.  Big cocks, little cocks,

straight cocks, twisted cocks.  And for each cock I had only one

desire: suck on it deep and vigorously until it filled my mouth with

semen.  "Is this what it feels like to be gay?" I thought.  "Am I

going to be permanently changed by this?"

 

Moaning and giggling I kissed Donna's nipple goodbye.  I kissed her

rock-hard rectus abdominus muscles, flirtingly stuck my tongue into

her navel, and then planted butterfly kisses in a semicircle above and

to either side of her straining member.  I found the adductor muscles

on either side of the balls (the muscles of horse-riding and doggy

sex, came the distracting thought) and playfully bit them.  Then I

grabbed the cock by its base and examined it closely for the first

time.

 

It's hard to describe my feelings.  My real self is confirmedly

heterosexual.  I knew that being so close to a man's cock, so close

that I could smell its special scent, so close that I could feel its

radiating warmth on my face, should have filled me with shame and

revulsion.  But the sim programming was completely dominant.  Instead

of revulsion I felt admiration.  "Oh, it's sooooo big!" I exclaimed,

and I meant it.  I knew it was only 8 1/2 inches, but to my

beglamoured eyes it could easy have been 12.  And so thick around!  I

wasn't sure I'd even be able to get the thing past my lips but I was

sure as hell going to try.

 

I cupped Donna's balls with my left hand while swiveling the cock

closer to my mouth with my right.  The balls were so gigantic that I

couldn't hold them both comfortably in my petite hand.  I sent out an

experimental lick, just grazing the tip of the glans with the tip of

my tongue.  I looked up.  Donna was watching with fascination.  "Stop

me.  Stop the sim." I whispered hoarsely.

 

"But you love to do this, don't you?" she answered wickedly.

 

I couldn't reply.  I had begun to lick the cock like a little girl

tasting her first popsicle.  From base to tip, over and over again, my

moist tongue ran over the entire length of the organ.  It had seemed

rock hard when I started, but this treatment made it stiffen even

further, gradually changing in color from pink to red to almost

purple.  Donna groaned out something incoherent.  She seemed to liked

this.  Parting my thick lips I took the glans into my mouth,

delighting in the sweet flavor of pre-cum.  Then I took the cock

deeper, and deeper, and yet deeper into my mouth, until my nose was

flush with the pubic hair and the cock was halfway down my throat.  I

have heard conflicting rumors about the reality of deep-throating.

Certainly no woman has actually done that to me in real life.  In sim,

though, almost anything is possible, and I deep-throated Donna with a

vengeance, her cock pushing its way down like a sword-swallower's

sword.

 

I don't know how long this went on.  I was in ecstasy; sometimes

deep-throating, sometimes licking and sucking on the shaft from the

side, and sometimes bringing Donna right to the edge with a combined

blow and hand job.  When Donna began to buck and thrash around I knew

she was ready.  I carefully inserted the long red-painted fingernail

of my little pinky into her butt-hole.  This is what works with me,

and since I programmed the sim it worked for Donna too.  Instantly she

began to come, crying out and pumping great wads of thick semen into

my mouth.  I tried to swallow it all, but it was too much for me and

some dripped onto my chin and chest.  Obsessed with the desire to have

it all, I wiped it up with my hand and licked my fingers hungrily.

 

"Mmmmmm, that was nice," said the man with my voice and Donna's mind.

He (she?) drew me up and langorously kissed my forehead before

settling deeper into the beanbag chair.  I enjoy napping after oral

sex, so I'd built in some time for it in the sim.  Donna would now

sleep for about 10 minutes.

 

I knew what was coming next.  Combined, the taste of semen and the

sound of a sleeping man's rhythmic breathing were the trigger for the

next scene of my sim fantasy, a scene in which Donna was supposed to

play a solo role.  But our roles were reversed.  It was now my

performance.

 

Until now my new cunt had not merited much thought.  I couldn't help

being aware of how hot and moist I had become during that first kiss

and embrace, but until now the triggers that had been used had chiefly

aroused the erogenous zones of my mouth and breasts.  Now it was

different.  My cunt and clit became swollen and demanding of

attention.  Even the slightest movement of my legs created such

sensations in my crotch that I had to struggle not to moan.  Quietly,

so as not to disturb the sleeper, I rose and tiptoed over to the other

end of the room, reveling in every stride as cunt juices leaked out

and moistened my inner thighs.  I stopped at a velvet loveseat and

turned it slightly to face a mirror.  If I were going to do this, I

thought, at least I'd do it right.

 

I stripped off my teddy and stood for an instant in front of the

mirror in nothing but my damp panties.  Quickly I stripped them off

too and tossed them into a corner.  Entranced, I gazed at myself.

"Shamelessly hussy," I thought, as I looked at my pubes, shaved except

for a little patch of blonde hair at the top.  Still watching the

mirror I lay down in the love seat, throwing one leg over the arm

rest.  "What does a clit feel like when it's yours?" I wondered,

running my fingers gently over my vulva.  I pushed just hard enough so

that my cunt lips separated and a red fingernail brushed the clit.

"Ooooooh!" I gasped, "that's what it feels like."

 

I masturbated eagerly, rubbing my clit first with one finger and then

with two.  I tried teasing it gently with flicking movements of my

fingers.  I tried rubbing it vigorously with the palm of my hand.  I

learned how to moisten it with my free-flowing cunt juices and rub it

back and forth between my thumb and index finger.  I pushed three

fingers of one hand into my cunt while playing with my clit with the

other, creating a most satisfying sensation.

 

And I came.  Several times I think, each one more intense than the

next.  I must have screamed out, because when I came to I was lying on

the floor beside the love seat, Donna beaming down at me with a

slightly condescending smile.  "Having fun?" she asked.

 

How embarassing.  "I think I've had enough for today," I lisped.

"Let's go now."

 

"But how can we go now?  We haven't screwed yet.  You wouldn't want to

leave without getting laid, would you?  My little bed bug ... my

lizard ... my spring chicken ... my pop tart ..."

 

Donna was running down the list of my pet names for her, watching me

intently for signs to indicate that she'd hit a trigger.  Not only did

she hit one, she hit several in succession.  I reeled dizzily under

the rapid fire of one erotic fantasy after the next.  At last I

shouted out "Oh god, fuck me now!  Fuck me now!"

 

Donna got the hint.  "Let's do it in the loft."  She strode over to

the ladder and climbed it two rungs at a time, the muscles of her

(his?) athlete's body rippling.  I followed more slowly, careful not

to bang my breasts on the way up.  On the way up I tried to examine my

internal state.  It seems I lucked out.  Although Donna had left me in

a state of full arousal, it was one in which I had some of discretion

over what I'd do.  I was going to get screwed all right -- probably

several times -- but at least I wasn't going to humiliate myself by

doing something kinky.  I winced, thinking of some of the things I

might have been forced into if Donna had stumbled onto the right

trigger phrases.

 

The floor of the loft was entirely covered by an immense, deep

featherbed.  The only other thing up there was pillows of various

sizes and shapes.  Donna reclined nonchalantly in the center, fully

erect, and examining her penis with an amused air.  "I think it's time

for me to find out what this thing can do."

 

I knelt on Donna's lap, resting my ass on her sinewy thighs so that

her cock came up between my legs.  "Take me now, lover," I whispered.

I rubbed my hairless cunt against her member, lightly coating it with

cunt juices.

 

Donna responded without hesitation.  In a blink of an eye I was on my

back, legs dangling in the air over my partner's shoulders, and pussy

filled with pumping cock.  Did I like it?  Of course I did.  The sim

programming didn't give me any choice.  I loved being fucked in the

pussy.  I savored every moment of it.  I cried out again and again, in

my high little voice, "Oh god!  Fuck me!  Fill my pussy!  You're

screwing me in the cunt!  Oh deeper!  Oh harder!"  Soon I wasn't

saying anything, just gasping with pleasure as multiple orgasms swept

over me.

 

We did it twice again after that, once with me on top, my heavy

breasts bouncing up and down in rhythm with our pumping, and again

with me on the bottom.  At last, spent, we cuddled together in the

depths of the feather bed.  Donna stroked my cheek and kissed me

again.  "I guess it's time to end the sim, puppy dog.  I'm ready to be

a woman again.  You can wear the pants from now on."

 

I froze.  Did she say "puppy dog"?  What a fool I was!  This was the

trigger to a subroutine that I had programmed idly one night, but

never intended to put to use.  Partly as a little joke and partly as a

safety measure I had deliberately chosen a "pet" name that Donna used

for me, not vice versa.

 

I was going to have a lot of explaining to do if Donna saw this

subroutine go into effect.  My only hope was to hold out against the

sim-manufactured urges until she stopped the run.  I closed my eyes,

gritted my teeth, and clenched my fists.  But it was no good.  The

urges were too strong.  In a moment I had risen to all fours and was

frisking and bounding around the loft like an excited puppy, yipping

excitedly.

 

"Chris, what are you doing?" Donna cried with alarm.  "Chris?"

 

I bounded over to her, still on all fours, and panted with my mouth

open.  Suddenly I gave her face a big wet lick with my tongue.  I spun

around, pushing my butt upwards and wagging it back and forth like a

happy dog.  I barked encouragingly.

 

Donna had begun to catch on, and seemed none too happy about it.  "You

were going to do *that* to me?!" she boomed in her deep voice.  "I get

it.  'Puppy dog'!  Make me act like a bitch in heat so that you could

take me doggie style?  You know I don't like doing it that way!  You

fucking asshole!"

 

Things were going from bad to worse.  "Fucking asshole" was another

trigger phrase;  Donna wasn't going to like this a bit.  But at least

I wouldn't have to bark any longer.

 

I found my voice.  In words thick with passion I said, "Yes.  Please

fuck me in the asshole.  Stick your cock deep into my butt.  Fill me

to the hilt.  Oh please do it!  Do it now!"

 

The expression in Donna's voice changed from outrage to amusement.  I

imagined her man's mouth leering at me.  "You really want me to fuck

you in the butt, Chrissie?"

 

"Oh yes, please!  Do it in my ass!  Come inside my ass!"

 

I felt a strong hand on my right ass cheek.  "If you want it so badly,

it would be a sin to disappoint you."

 

"Oh now!  Now!"

 

A finger at my cunt, wiping up my abundant pussy juices.  The same

finger, coating my little pink asshole with those same juices.  The

tip of a huge, hot cock, pressing down on the entrance way to my

bowels.  Pressure slowly increasing ... increasing.

 

"It'll never fit," I cried, "You're too big!"

 

Suddenly my sphincter yielded, the pressure disappearing as the cock

slid slowly, slowly into my sigmoid.  Now the pressure was replaced by

a tightness, a feeling of fullness, and incredible pleasure.

 

Cock buried in my rectum, Donna leaned over me and grabbed a tit in

each hand.  I moaned in delight.  "You're being corn-holed, you know,"

she (he?) remarked.  "How do you like it?"

 

"I love it!" I gasped.  "Fuck me harder!"

 

Donna obliged, pumping her (his?) meat into me in long, leisurely

strokes.  She would pull herself nearly out, making me cry out to have

her in me again, and then, when I thought I'd go insane with longing,

slide it back in to its full extent.  Her large hands squeezed and

caressed my breasts.  In minutes I had an anal orgasm, shaking and

crying out as my sphincter went into spasm.  It must have felt good at

the other end too, because Donna cried out at the same time and shot

her wad into the depths of my bowels.

 

I collapsed, Donna's cock still buried deep inside me.  We lay that

way for a long time, listening to each other's breath, saying nothing.

My partner finally spoke.  "I think that's enough for now.  Computer,

end sim."

 

The beach house, the loft, the featherbed dissolved, and I found

myself back in my living room, leads still attached to the cooling sim

generator.  I looked over at Donna, who seemed cool and collected as

ever in her modest blouse and skirt.  In contrast, I felt like I'd

been kicked by a camel and then left out to die in the Sahara.

 

"Donna, I'm so sorry."  It was good to have my normal voice again.

 

She smiled at me with unexpected sweetness.  "You do have a little

explaining to do.  But I'll take some of the blame.  I mean, I put us

in that situation you know."

 

I looked at her with widening eyes.  "What do you mean?"

 

"Haven't you figured it out, you dodo?  I switched the cables in the

back of the generator; while you were fiddling with the console!

Remember?"

 

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I threw a couch pillow at her.

And missed.

 

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                 /|\                                                   

                / | \                    Portland Metro All Text BBS   

               /  |  \                                                 

              /   |   \                      14400: 503.775.0374       

             /    |    \                       SysOp: Thing One        

            /     |     \                                              

           /      |      \           

            d r e a m e s