Girltech Inc

(This is another story purchased by one of my Patrons.

Kara)

‘Today is too important of a day for this weird shit.’ Peter thought as he crossed the threshold into his lab and brushed the brown bangs out of his face. “Decontamination process commencing.” The computerized British voice said gently before a thick fog filled the eight by three foot room. He briefly wondered why most if not all of the computer voices lately were British women, was it America's fascination with the british? The belief that somehow they were classier than the average American?  ‘Whatever.’ He told himself. ‘There’s Nobels to be won.’ He removed his glasses and stared blankly as the retinal scanner scanned his deep almond eyes. “Let’s go, people!” He shouted, slapping his hands together, at three other people in white lab coats as he entered the room. “The name Peter Watkins needs to be synonymous with medical genius by the end of the year!” He strode confidently over to the freezer, punched in the code and quickly retrieved a tray of vials.

Despite Peter’s high opinion of himself he was not the only member of the lab at Uvopia.Inc. He was actually part of a group of four. He was simply the lead researcher and only in part due to his charismatic nature, when he wanted to be. Everyone else considered him to be lower in intellect than the rest of them but he knew who to kiss up to and when, and because of that he was the youngest researcher on the team on top of being the lead. Nicholas Mckee, the original ‘Big brain’ on the project and could still remember when it was just a cute little equation on the white board in his small office. Terrance Howel had been his partner in crime to a lesser degree but Nicholas refused to see it that way, even when he fought with the CEO that he would sue for the patent rights unless Terrance was made an equal part of the group that helped design the nanite machines. Melanie was brought in the second month, once the project was established as worth more than just a theory.

All three of them were aware that breakthroughs took time. Peter was aware of it as well, he was a scientist by training, but at heart he was a businessman, just like Henry Foster, the Ceo. They had been working on the nanite project for nearly two years “without results” Peter was fond of telling them. Even though they had already progressed to working on human cadavers. But Nicholas was in no rush, not just for the fact that he had learned long ago to see things not in terms of failure or success but in terms of lessons. But thirty-five year old Nicholas, who for all his life focused only on science now found himself focusing on the beauty of the world. He had found love with Melanie Reyes six months ago. She was cold and standoffish at first, but he assumed that was like most women in a STEM field, if they were sweet they were treated as flirtatious and somehow dumber than their male counterparts, which he always found odd because Terrance, his best friend, was truly flirtatious. Nicholas was wise enough in the ways of the world to know it wasn’t true for all bisexual people but Terrance, gave credence to the stereotype that bisexual people in general were just constantly horny. Of course he had changed somewhat since he married his wife. He was still a horndog, and flirted with anyone with a pulse, including Melanie, but he was loyal to his wife in the end.

Melanie’s self-sequestering however was due to the reason she transferred to Uvopia and lobbied to get herself put on the nanite project, Melanie was a transwoman. Nicholas had not truly considered what his nanites could do for the community until that one rainy afternoon he happened in the same coffee shop with her. The medical nanites, or Medites, original purpose was to help with minor surgery at first, but the ultimate goal being they could be programmed to perform the riskiest surgeries with minimal to no negative side effects. Of course Uvopia.Inc saw them as the perfect plastic surgery tool and Nicholas hated it. Melanie saw them as a different kind of miracle, “Think about it,” She said after Nicholas had finished complaining about Uvopia. “I have to take estrogen every day for the rest of my life because of some mishap of biology and hope that I could grow into the woman I was meant to be and after decades may not see any real results, but with your Medites someone like me could take them and in a few years they could have the facial structure, voice, and yes even breasts that we’ve always wanted. And in transmen the height growth from testosterone would no longer be minimal. Painful? Maybe. But trust me, when we go to human trials you will have no shortage of people like me lining up to take them.”  She later told him that the way he smiled and told her his dream since childhood was to help people through science and medicine. That night she took him to her apartment and they made love. And for six months she would pick him up in her car and drive him to her apartment and watch movies, have ice cream, and once again sleep together.

Until two weeks ago. Two weeks ago he waited for her outside the front door for her to pull her chrysler around and pick him up…but she never did. Terrance assured him later she was probably just busy or had something important to do. And for a time he believed his friend. Until the following Friday when Nicholas met her in his office and saw her leaving the office with Peter. “H-hey Melanie.” He asked nervously as he stopped them in the hallway, “Are we hanging out again this weekend?”

“Gimme a second.” Melanie whispered to Peter who nodded and quietly walked on by to the elevator. “Nicholas, we need to talk.”

“...What about?” He knew exactly what she wanted to talk about, he was not so disconnected from the world that he didn’t know the worst four words to ever be uttered in a relationship.

“I think we should cool things down between us.”

“Cool things how?”

“Come on. You know what I mean.”

“I…I really don’t. I understand how expensive the city can be and frankly I enjoyed eating at home with you but…how much slower can we take things and still be considered dating?”

She sighed and brushed her raven black hair behind her ear, “I told you when we started this, we weren’t dating. It’s just…two friends blowing off steam and helping each other clear out the cobwebs as it were.”

“But, I thought…over time…I mean for six months we’ve been doing more than just…sex. And being friends.”

“I know…that’s part of the problem. I liked being with you, and you’re smart and sweet, so I let myself believe that that’s just you being you…until you gave me this.” She took a small diamond bracelet with multiple gemstones dangling from it out of her pack. In the center was a red ruby  heart, on the back was Nicholas’ initials and the words ‘I love you.’ “I’m not ready for the kind of relationship you want.” She frowned as she placed the bracelet into his hands.

“When?”

“What?”

“If-if you’re not ready now, do you know when you could possib-”

“Nicky…Nicholas,” She corrected herself, “I know what you’re getting at, and I may never be ready for that type of relationship. So don’t say you’ll wait for me. If you wait around for me you’ll miss someone who actually wants to be with you the way you deserve.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah.” She said softly. Melanie leaned in and kissed him softly on his cheek. Her full lips left a small dark purple lip shaped stain on his cheek. “I know it’s hard to believe right now, but I want you to find happiness.”

He forced a smile through his frown, clutching the bracelet in his hand, “You too.” And with that she turned and walked to the elevator with Peter.

So that Saturday morning when he came into the office smelling like her perfume and with his cocky smile Nicholas knew exactly what he had done. And maybe that was why he did something he was always careful not to do. When asked to pass a small syringe to Peter he handed it to him syringe first, briefly sticking him with the ultra fine needle. “Shit!” Peter swore and shook his hand.

“You okay?” Nicholas asked with a barely concealed smile.

“I’m just peachy.” Peter growled, “What does lab protocol say about handing someone a syringe of potentially dangerous chemicals, machinery, or just…sharp things in general?”

“Uh…make sure the cap is on first and never-”

“Never syringe first!” He shouted. “Idiot!”

“It was an accident.” Terrance said, coming to his friend’s side.

“Accidents can get people killed.”

“You’re right, but right now you look fine. So lab protocol, go get checked out and if there’s anything wrong we’ll deal with it then. If not…just move on. Okay?”

“If I so much as get the sniffles, you and your boyfriend are out on your asses!” Peter stormed off.

“I don’t know what he’s so angry about.” Nick scoffed, “It was just a little prick, he’s a much bigger prick.” Terrance laughed and slapped his friend on the back, getting back to his desk, while Nick threw the needle into the biohazardous waste disposal basket.

Thankfully for both of them all of Peter’s tests came back negative and he was given the go ahead to come back to work that following Monday.  Of course unbeknownst to everyone a singular medite had survived the cleansing process and lay dormant in the syringe until the moment its programming was activated. It immediately went to work replicating itself. Peter’s stored fat cells, especially around his midsection, were a feast for the little medite. Less than a milligram was all it needed to duplicate itself. By Monday, Peter had lost half a pound in body fat. Though this went mostly unnoticed as his overall weight hadn’t changed. The medites concluded they collectively had enough to begin running their program.

The changes made were subtle at first, little things that no one truly took stock of every day. Peter’s hair grew at triple its normal rate. This was a change he didn’t notice until Thursday, of course Tuesday he thought his skin was looking oddly smoother and his barber clearly trimmed his beard too much in retrospect. Wednesday he came into the lab late and annoyed when the retinal scanner kept glitching out, but oddly only for him. Thursday he noticed that even though he had gotten a shave and a haircut on Sunday he already needed another trim. So that Friday morning when an older man complimented him how nice it was to see a woman dressed so “handsomely”, he walked in already annoyed at the world. When Henry Foster walked into the laboratory and found Nicholas and Terrance working alone he unceremoniously approached the two men at their shared desk. "So gentlemen, what breakthroughs are we making today?" He bellowed.

Not looking up from his computer Nicolas said, "We are just about to run a test on the medites and if our functions are correct we will successfully perform rhinoplasty on our cadaver."

"We call him Beaker." Terrance smirked as he nodded at the rail thin nude cadaver on the slab in the sealed off room with a bulbous nose. Foster's face remained devoid of emotion and Terrance's Muppet reference fell on deaf ears. Nicholas nodded slightly, as if to silently tell his friend he had gotten his joke. “Alright, I think that should do it. Ready to initiate.”

“Initiating.” With a final keystroke the medites sprung into life underneath the skin of the cadaver. His sallow skin glistened for a moment before the larger portions of his nose deflated like a balloon. The rounded fleshy portions flattened out and drew inward until they hardened into a nose befitting of a roman statue.

“Incredible.” Foster gaped at the glass partition. “You’ve accomplished in mere moments what it takes a team of surgeons hours to achieve.”

“Of course the actual process would take much longer by comparison on a live subject. If not, the patient would fly into shock from overstimulating the nervous system.”

Foster looked to Terrance for a translation, “Essentially, we’re breaking the nose in a thousand different ways in less than a minute. The amount of pain and shock would cause most people to black out. Which is dangerous.”

“Ah.” Foster turned to gawk once more at the newly formed nose.

“That’s what I said.” Nicholas whispered to his friend.

“I know buddy.” He whispered back, “That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Terrance spoke up with a smile.

“In what way?” Foster turned to face Terrance.

“Like you said there are no surgeons so there is no risk of scarring, but, Nick, why don’t you show the boss your side project.”

“Side project?” Foster asked.

“I don’t think he’d be interested in that.” Nicholas stared at the floor, turning his back to cover his laptop like a mother protects her young.

“If you have a new method I would be interested in hearing about it.”

Peter finally came into the lab, grumbling his annoyance at the malfunctioning retinal scanner. Seems like every day he had to talk to security about this damn machine. Seeing Henry Foster in the lab, Peter straightened his tie and let the annoyance flow away to somewhere else to be dealt with later. “Ah, Mr.Foster. What brings you in today?” He asked cheerfully, shaking the man’s hand.

“Good to see you, Peter. Dr.Mckee here was just about to show me his side project.”

“He was?” Peter’s smile stiffened as his eyes narrowed on the uncomfortable Nicholas.

“Yes, I’m very curious.”

“Well, Mckee? Don’t keep us all in suspense.”

Nicholas swallowed the rock in his throat, but turned to his computer. With a few keystrokes he was finished, and gestured to the cadaver once again. This time the process took longer before a noticeable change had occurred. Longer than the brief, thirty second nose job but still quick enough to any outside observer to believe in magic and wizardry. The subtle changes that Nicholas noticed first were the softened features of the male cadaver’s face. Not much could change at this late stage of decay, even in a fresh corpse such as Beaker certain processes we take for granted have already ceased. But the medites were working their microscopic mechanical hearts out for their creator’s vision. The pale man’s skin softened and darkened, until he no longer appeared to be the caucasian man they wheeled in last week. His complexion mirrored closer to a hispanic man who had spent his life largely indoors and took great care to reduce sun damage as much as possible. Unseen, even to Nicholas but not unknown to him, the tiny machines went to work severering and reconnecting vocal chords. So if he were capable of speech he would do so in a falsetto. ‘Beaker must have had some Latino heritage.’ He thought briefly.

What Peter and Foster noticed first was the man’s flat and hairy chest swelling over the course of ninety seconds. When the swelling had stopped the men realized his chest had not simply pushed past the remaining body hair but it had actually fallen out, seemingly of its own accord. His already emaciated stomach sunk further inward as the last of its fat storage was shifted to his chest and hips.

In three minutes Beaker had undergone a decade of medical transitioning both internally and externally. Though, due to his state of non-life he looked less Victoria’s Secret angel and more a corpse bride with too short hair. “That’s…” Foster stared at the grotesque figure on the table.

“Keep in mind,” Terrence quickly jumped to Nick’s defense, “Beaker isn’t alive so fat redistribution for him is permanent. A living subject would be able to replenish what was lost in a day or two of carb loading.”

“That’s true…I suppose on a real woman it would also look…less sickening.” Extreme fat loss wasn’t the only recourse of the machines at work. They had gobbled up every bit of fluid and decaying cells they could for power to undergo their overwhelming task so now Beaker looked even more grossly skeletal than he had started. “Still…I know more than a few trophy wives who would love such easy and clean surgeries.”

Nicholas choked on his words but forced out a meek, “T-the object is to help s-someone born with male sex characteristics to live and transition easier. Theoretically…a complete sexual change could be undergone if given enough time and data.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s actually a market a lot of people don’t think about.” Terrance began, Peter shook his head at the two idiots, “According to research, transgender people make up a larger portion of the country than we realize, particularly because a majority of them choose not to undergo surgery due to the complications and poor end results.”

“It would especially benefit those who transition later in life and think there’s no hope.” Nicholas smiled for the first time since Henry had entered their laboratory.

“If you’re right, we’re looking at billions in an untapped market.”

“Wha-”

“How do the little machines know when their job is done?” He asked, cutting off Nicholas’ protests.

“Oh, that's a relatively simple design.” Terrance excitedly pulled Henry Foster to his computer and keyed up a visual aid. “The machines are a hive network operating with a central brain, as it were, so the brain guides the system in the case of transitioning, here,” He points to a tiny dot inside of a digital blueprint of a brain. “And it watches out for the release of certain chemicals. It is here retraining the brain how to release the chemicals, in this case, estrogen in larger quantities. As you are no doubt aware, men and women both have estrogen and testosterone, just in differing amounts. So, instead of a bunch of pills for the rest of Beaker’s life, he has one injection, and over the course of eighteen months to two years? Right?” He looks to Nicholas who nods and mutters softly in agreement, “In about two years her brain has essentially been reprogrammed to produce estrogen the way any average cis woman would.”

“Ca-can we-”

“But what about in the case of surgery?” Foster continued to ignore Nicholas.

“That is similar, with Beaker’s nose it was a certain amount of cartilage.”

“Then you didn’t actually change anything?”

“No…not necessarily. The medites just formed into the structure we told them to and ate until they received the order to stop.”

“Is it only cartilage?”

“Oh, no! It could be anything. It could be skin cells, fat cells, anything. Hell, if you wanna do some early human trials my wife could use a lift. I just tell the little brain here it needs my cum and it’ll stop the growth.” Henry and Terrance laughed loudly. “Watch her headaches disappear overnight, know what I mean?” Henry slapped Terrance on the back as he bellowed in laughter once again.

“B-but-”

“But as you can see,” Peter cut in, speaking over Nicholas, and placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder, ushering him out of the lab. “we do still need some fine tuning.”

“If you say so, hopefully not too much. Remember, the money isn’t in the initial invention but in the upgrades.”

“It’s why you’ll never see white wall tires.”

“Absolutely.” Henry chuckled as he reached for the lab door.

“I complete-”

“Wait a minute!” Nicholas shouted, stopping everyone in their tracks and halting all conversations. All three men stopped and stared at the frail looking man, glowing with anger. “Y-you can’t sell this if it’s not complete…the risks to human life…to their happiness alone is too great.”

“Mckee, ever the perfectionist. I’ll talk to him about-”

“No, I’m serious. I agreed to let Uvopia.Inc have the patent for the Medites on the condition I could still utilize them for my research as I saw fit. That means, if I say something isn’t ready it’s not. And if I say something isn’t for sale, it isn’t! You can sell the medites to plastic surgeons on fifth avenue or wherever you want but this, the utilization of medite transition is mine and mine alone.”

Henry Foster’s smile vanished, his muscles tensed as he pulled away from Terrance and Peter and stormed over to Nicholas. “Now listen here, McKee.” He growled, “You have a contract with us, anything you create and profit from while in this lab is under direct ownership of my company. If you don’t like that you can go back to that little basement of yours where we found you!”

“I didn’t make it in your lab. I made it in mine.” Terrence wanted to be happy for his normally meek friend for standing in his convictions, but he was an ant picking a fight with a giant. “Just like I did the medites. Designed and built, all in that little basement. And I don’t intend to sell anything I built.”

“What?!” Henry thundered.

“My medite method once I deem it finished will be something freely given to the world.”

“No one gives away a billion dollar idea for nothing.”

“Watch me.”

Foster clenched his fist in rage, he wanted to snap the little geek’s neck like a pencil but that wouldn’t solve his long term problem, just his most immediate one. And he couldn’t even fire the twerp due to a contract with an outrageous severance package. With a sneer, Foster did the only thing he could do, “You’re suspended.”

“For what?!” Terrance shouted.

“Suspicion of theft of company property.” He shouted over his shoulder before turning back to Nicholas, “You computers, your labs, even your calculator will be searched. If we so much as find one item or notation that belongs to this company you will be summarily dismissed, without pay and we will sue you for everything you’ve got. Including your patents.” Henry slowly tapped the edge of Nicholas' laptop, “You take this home with you don’t you? If we take this and find you worked on the medites at home with it… then it is ours.”

“You can’t do that!” Terrance shouted after the furious man as he stormed out of the lab.

“No, let him.” Nick said calmly, removing his coat and ID badge, “Like I said, none of it is here anyway. And you can only search what you already own.” The thin man handed both his coat and badge to Peter and walked proudly to the door. He stood awkwardly still for a moment before Terrance swiped his card, letting Nick leave. “Thanks.” He whispered to his friend.

A few days later, Peter sat alone at the bar waiting for his date and anxiously throwing back fistfulls of peanuts. He knew that idiot was working on something, he wasn’t exactly James Bond, but he never could figure out what. And now it sounds like he has the ground floor set up for medites ahead of everyone else. Well, had. The company’s tech boys would crack whatever encryption he used to protect his computer. Shame he couldn’t get to it first. If he could, he would be able to spearhead the project and choose the team this time. It was bad enough that without Nicholas their progress had come to a total standstill. While lost in thought, a gentle hand slipped between his arms and grabbed at his crotch while another rubbed his chest. “Hey now!” He laughed as the delicate hand played with his nipple.

“Hey, yourself.” The soft voice of Melanie cooed as she kissed his cheek. He was different from Nicholas, in ways she knew were bad ultimately but good for her in these moments of weakness. Nicholas was sweet and loving, but those qualities came with a lot of other things attached she wasn’t ready to deal with. Not while she had her own shit to figure out.

Peter didn’t care. Not really. He cared in the sense he wished her no ill will, but he felt no romantic attachment to her whatsoever, “You wanna drink?”

“Gods yes.” She smirked, putting down her coat on the empty stool beside her. Peter had some money, and he loved to show it off, as evident by his Jaguar parked in the parking lot and the fact he always made sure to change into a nice suit just for a hook up after work. If he wanted to throw away his money she wasn’t going to stop him. It’s not like they were dating. The problem with her and Nick-Nicholas was he cared too much and she knew it was bad for her to lead him on like that but he was incredibly good in bed. Life had taught her years ago that everything was temporary, especially relationships. So she didn’t do them anymore. She made sure everyone she had been with since then knew this up front. Including Nick-Nicholas. He said he understood but clearly he didn’t. ‘No.’ She reminded herself, she promised not to think about him like that anymore. No, tonight she would have way too much alcohol and let this spoiled rich kid give her some stress relief so she could think clearer. ‘At least he shaved that stupid beard.’ She thought as she took her drink from the bartender.

The rest of the night sped onward as the two shared several glasses of bourbon, a laugh or two, and a fine meal. All of this proceeding to Peter taking Melanie back to his apartment. Where dress shoes joined heels on the floor and bras joined fan blades gently turning overhead as Peter laid claim to a woman he could only have for as long as he held on loosely.

Later, hearts still pounding, Melanie coiled herself around Peter, playfully tracing her finger across his flat stomach. “Hey.” She said softly, she frowned inwardly when she heard him grunt. She never did this. “Tell me something.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged gently, she didn’t do this. The girlfriend thing. “Something about you. Something…you’ve never told anyone.” She lifted her head off of him when she saw his breathing suddenly change from deep breaths to much shallower, as if he was forcing himself to calm so he could focus.

“Really?”

“Sure.” Her smile was frail and almost imperceptible in the dim light left over from the open window.

“Uh.” He thought for a moment, there was a lot he never told people for good reason. “I don’t like Star Wars.”

She shook her head. “Forget it.” She rolled over, pulling the covers over her chest.

“No. Really. Most people give me shit for it. Like it’s some masterpiece of cinema.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking for.”  She pulled the sheets closer to her neck. For a moment she laid there in the inky silence.

“When I was five,” Peter said softly, “my dad passed away.” Melanie watched him over her shoulder, “He was having health problems for a long time. I…, I was a stupid kid and crying in the hospital and my mom took me in her arms and said we were going to be okay. And she was right. We were okay.” Peter’s head hung for a moment as he sifted through his memories.

“I’m sorry.” She wrapped an arm around and pulled him into her breasts, allowing him to use her chest as a pillow to rest his weary head. It wasn’t until years later I found out what she meant that night in the hospital. Peter’s father was smart enough to get a pretty hefty life insurance policy on himself and his mother. If he hadn’t been the intelligent man he was then who knows what would’ve happened to them? Years later his father saved them again, when he was looking into colleges that he could not possibly afford an attorney contacted his mother with the news that as part of his will his father had set aside a trust to be given to him on his eighteenth birthday should he choose to go to college, and another upon completion of college. In the interim of each his mother passed, but he managed to still graduate from Harvard medical on time. He didn’t like to think about it but…he was an orphan. He squeezed Melanie a little tighter, as a small stream of tears fell from his eyes.

The next morning, Peter woke in his bed alone. Melanie had left sometime during the night or early morning. He stretched out his limbs, enjoying their arrangement. He got a bit of stress relief with a beautiful girl, no strings attached, and got to wake up alone in his own bed on satin sheets. Shifting out of bed and setting his feet on the floor his back popped and cracked as he rolled his shoulders back. It wasn’t rocket science, his back hurt, the most likely culprit was his mattress. It was an annoyance but he still had his inheritance left, and being the lead on this project meant a big bonus and raise. He just needed to get his team in gear before he truly was drowning in debt.

He coughed as he flipped on the light switch in his bathroom, and for a moment he thought Melanie had stayed after all. He pushed the bangs out of his hair and unleashed a high pitch scream when he realized Melanie wasn’t here but in fact the woman he saw in the mirror was himself but not himself at the same time. “W-what the hell?” His hand slapped his throat, “What’s wrong with my voice?!” His voice came out much softer and more than a few octaves higher than normal, he’d say it sounded almost feminine.

Peter froze in place, watching the feminine figure in the mirror's hand move to match his own. She was just as tall as he was but smaller at the same time. Her frame wasn't as wide, judging by the way his t-shirt hung, almost imperceptibly, lower on his shoulders than it did the morning before. Her skin was slightly darker, as if he spent the weekend laying out by the pool or twenty minutes in a tanning bed, considering the change was total even to parts typically covered by a speedo. His now loose shirt hung tight in one area however, his chest. The feminine figure carefully pulled back the neck of his shirt as he did. He was relieved that he didn't have breasts, but that relief quickly fled when he realized his nipples were larger and his stomach was indeed smaller. Something that had been a cause for celebration this past week and his work induced diet of one top ramen before bed and the dozen or so power bars he had eaten during the work day was now a symptom of something worse. A frightening thought struck his brain and immediately he pulled his underwear down! Thankfully his penis was still there, safe and sound. “Good…what”-he coughed-“what is happening?!” Peter found if he made a conscious effort his voice would return to its normal register. But…he shouldn’t have to make an effort to sound like himself!

Later, Peter arrived at work; he swiped his ID and was thankfully able to use the retinal scanner. The lab and most of the building was closed on weekends but the teams still had access in case they suddenly had a profound breakthrough…or needed to draw blood like Peter needed to do now. Honestly, he already knew what was likely the cause, but he was a scientist and still needed evidence before he could formulate a plan.

Red and white blood cells drifted along in a synchronized dance through the saline ocean they now lived. In careful and automatic movements two little machines, smaller than the blood cells  they were surrounded by, slipped through the microscopic world in search of their next task. “Fuck.” Peter swore as he backed away from the microscope and began pacing around the lab. “Okay…okay…okay. What do we know?” he asked the empty room, “They’re programmed with a task. Once they realize they’re no longer in the body they’ll deactivate. Which…if they were in my body they’d get flushed out with everything else…so…great. They’re listening to a specific machine.” Peter checked his feminine reflection in the glass of the darkened computer screen. “They haven’t changed too much of my face…possibly just from fat loss. Their main source of fuel?” He stroked his smooth chin with his thumb and forefinger. “What program are they running? Facial structure largely unchanged. Hair growth?” He pulled a strand of hair away from his face. “Facial hair loss?” He touched his eyebrows, confirming their continued existence, “not total. Hmm.” He considered for a moment what he should do and what he was supposed to do. Clearly there was an accident within the lab; which meant he had to shut it down, submit to quarantine, and wait for lawyers and fools to determine that the lab was once again safe. A process that could take up to six months once they finally worked their way through all the red tape, and while he was on good terms with Henry, a six month setback was huge and was enough that he could be booted from the project or even fired for improperly handling materials. He could live off of his severance for the rest of the year…but he would find it hard to get a job in another lab and worse, this was a major breakthrough he wanted to be a part of.

On the other hand, if he simply gave them a new program to repair his vocal chords then shut down the medites. He could get a haircut and later on could tell Henry that if nothing else they had a weight loss wonder drug potentially worth billions and at worst receive a slap on the wrist for not immediately reporting the incident. “Yeah, let’s do that.” He agreed with himself and booted up a computer, brushing the hair out of his face again.

A few minutes later, a man with broad shoulders opened the lab door and found a woman with messy hair sitting at one of the computers. The door had alerted the security desk to Dr.Watkins entering the lab, not a very strange occurrence but his boss still told him he had to verify. And obviously with good reason seeing the strange woman. “Excuse me, ma’am?” He placed his hand on his taser, “I need you to slowly turn around and show me some ID.”

Peter turned around giving the guard a questioning look, “Miss?” His voice cracked. “No, no, no! That’s not true!” He turned back immediately, typing away at the computer, he was already frustrated that he couldn’t find the central brain with his station. Every one of them had to be linked up to the lab computers for experimentation. The only one that currently wasn’t was Nicholas’ station and his laptop.

“Alright. Sir. Turn around or I will be forced to remove you.”

Peter slowly raised his hands, “Good, now take one step backwards and turn around.” Doing as he was told the guard suddenly relaxed when he saw the familiar face. “Oh…Dr.Watkins, I didn’t recognize you…have you lost weight?”

“Ye-”-he cleared his throat-“I have actually. Uh…I’ve been doing keto.”

“Oh. Well it’s really working for you. My cousin tried that Paleo, it was great but he couldn’t stand all the cauliflower.”

“Yeah…diets are tricky.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Just had some thoughts about some code. I…can’t really tell you more than that, you understand.” he shrugged, “Policy.”

“No, definitely. Okay, well I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Thanks. Hey,” he asked before the guard could leave, “Do you know if they’re done with Dr.McKee’s computers?”

“Uh, last I heard they weren’t. They have a lot of backlog to get through first. I’m sure they’ll get done with it soon though.”

“Great. Thanks. Hey, hold the door, I’m heading out anyway.”

“You sure? I thought you had some work to do.”

“It can wait, besides I’m starving.”

The guard chuckled as he opened the lab door for Peter, “Yeah, these diets can be killer.” Peter chatted with the guard as he walked to the elevator. He continued their conversation so that the guard would walk with him and of course he wouldn’t have to worry about any scanners malfunctioning again like the lab door had been. The tech department would be locked up for the weekend, especially if they were worried about trade secrets being on Nick’s laptop. ‘Monday and the tech boys will be back, I’ll go there first thing," he reassured himself,  'I’ll be fine until then.’