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The Rivals 2: Payback's a Bitch - part 2
by Dreamtales
Contact the author at dreamtales@phuze.com
This story is actually by Minnie Mall and is a sequel to The Rival. It was written with Dreamtales' permission.
Monique groaned and slowly opened her eyes. What the hell was going on, she mumbled groggily. As her surrounding came into focus she recognized . . . THE LAB!!!
She started to her feet, but fell immediately to her hands and knees. She reached out a hand and touched the smooth side of a wall. She forced herself to focus her eyes. Dimly she made out a form . . . a man's form . . . Tom's form. But wait, she thought, Tim's back at my house. In diapers. And who was the kid next to him.
Monique slowly rose to her feet. She noticed she was naked. Naked didn't bother her. Her body was one of her best assets. She gave herself a quick going over. Good, they hadn't done anything to her yet. She was a little chilled, so she clutched her shoulders.
Ouch! She winced. There was a small lump on her left arm -- like the bite mark of an insect . . . or a needle. She checked her right arm and found another lump there as well. So they pumped her full of some drugs, again, so what.
She looked over at Tom who was watching her through the glass. She looked down at the child -- a little girl, no more than three. The girl had light, wheat colored hair and freckles. She also had her thumb in her mouth. She was holding Tom's hand.
Tim looked different -- younger -- to Monique. So, I'm caught, she thought. Best to brass it out. Suiting actions to words, she placed her hands on her wide and sultry hips and allowed Tom's eyes to feast on her feminine loveliness. She saw him break into a little sweat.
"So Tim," she purred. "I notice that you haven't brought little Suzy back up. What's the matter lover-boy, do you still want a real woman?"
Her cattiness broke whatever spell she still held over Tom. He looked up toward the control room and the intercom link between Monique and he was open.
"Shut up. Monique," he barked. "I curse the day I allowed you to talk me into teaching Suzy her so-called lesson. If I hadn't been such a smart-ass know-it-all, Suzy would be an adult. As it is, thanks to you and me, this is as old as the antidote can make her. From now on, she'll grow as any normal child would."
"So it still works out, Tom," Monique said. "Just let me out of here and we'll do what I proposed last month . . . let's get married and adopt her."
"Do you honestly think I'd let you anywhere near me, let alone Suzy after what you've done to us?" he said incredulously.
"No, I'll let you out shortly, but not until I'm finished with you."
"Tom, Tom . . . people will notice I'm missing. Why don't you just let me out. I'll go my way and you can get back to your science stuff."
"Monique, I regret to inform you that you're dead. The Japanese government launched an all out effort to find you but, alas, you've been lost at sea."
For the first time, Monique showed a little anxiety.
Tom bore in.
"Do you know what joke went around the street the day after your death was announced? It seems a Great White Shark was seen following a pod of Sperm Whales. He was observed eating the whale shit. The theory was he's swallowed you and was trying to get the taste out of his mouth."
"You bastard," she screamed and launched herself at the partition. It was then she noticed for the first time that she was being bathed in the rays of the YouthGene gun. Sweat broke out on her forehead.
She turned to Tom, "Listen can't we make a deal . . ."
"No deals, Monique. Besides, it's already too late. You've regressed about five years already. Here let me show you."
Tom pulled a large mirror in front of Monique's glass prison. He was right, Monique looked like she was in her early 20s. All lines in her face had faded and she once again had the semblance of the innocence of youth. She touched her face and ran her hands down to her breasts. They were still adult sized, but for how long, she wondered.
"You'll notice that you've been given injections. They very special shots, Monique. And you'll be a very special girl when this is done. This company is involved in all sorts of programs and experiments, especially genetics. We hope to someday be able to isolate specific gene matrixes so that if a person with cancer in their genetic background is detected, we can erase that cancer producing gene and replace it with non-cancer producing genes.
"But I'm afraid it will take years before we're able to do that. We have come across an interesting link in that project that has worked very successfully in all our computer models. We think we can literally erase a person's genetic code with one injection and over impose another in it's place. We're about to find out if that's true."
Monique looked at the two lumps on her arms.
"NO!" she screamed.
The little girl clutched Tom's leg tightly. "I'm afraid so. At least, it should work in theory."
Monique looked in the mirror. She had continued to regress. No longer in her 20s, she had the fresh body and face of a junior or senior in high school. Already, she showed signs that her body was no longer an adults. Her large breasts, no longer lactating, were riding higher on her chest. Her nipples were neither brown nor pink but had faded to the soft white of a young virgin.
Monique's shapely ass and thighs were becoming straighter, less rounded, less mature. Her eyes looked wider and more innocent as she slipped back to her mid teens. Monique was crying now, pleading and cursing Tom in alternating breaths. She didn't seem to notice that with each passing moment, her voice got higher and more child-like. Tom was surprised to note that Monique had evidently been a late bloomer, because as she slipped back to around 14, it was obvious that she would have had to stuff her bra to make it an "A" cup. She also had acute acne.
At 13, Monique was a tall gangly girl with two buttons for tits and a light sprinkle of fuzz on her pussy. She also had freckles . . . lots of freckles. She had lost any semblence of adulthood when Tom tapped on the glass to get her attention.
"Before you're too young to really appreciate this, I thought I'd show you the family whose genes I substituted for yours. You'll be moving to French Provence of Normandy. I thought that was fitting with your background. Your parents are poor farmers. Their little baby girl was sent here to the United States for risky and complicated heart surgery. It failed and the little girl died. But you'll be happy to know that your body now carries her genetic blueprint. It's busily erasing every trace of Monique Faberri and substituting it with little Angeline Mercier. Would you care to see a picture of your new family?
Tom held up a picture containing two adults and seven children ranging from a older teen to a child of three. One look at the picture and tiny seven-year-old Monique screamed anew. The parents were both dark-haired peasant stock with broad fleshy noses. The women were all thick boned, wide-hipped and flabbily constructed. There was not a trace of the beauty and refinement that was Monique Faberri.
Monique was four and sitting on the floor with her arms locked around her knees crying.
"I'm actually sorry, Monique, but if it's any comfort, you won't remember much. Little Suzy doesn't remember me as her fiance -- she thinks I'm her daddy. It will be the same for you in a few weeks."
Monique stood up. Her hair was nothing but a small thatch of red curls barely covering her head. Her little jelly-belly and soft baby skin betrayed the adult intelligence within her eyes. She recrossed another threshold and softly fell backwards. She attempted to get to her knees but her regression was inevitable and she sunk to her stomach. She was not much more than a bald newborn when the partition was lowered.
Little Suzy, still holding her thumb in her mouth, walked cautiously over to tiny Monique. Even in this tiny form, adult Monique was trying to communicate out to the world. Suzy pulled her thumb from her mouth and pointed downward.
"Baby." she said finally.
"Yes, baby, honey," Tom answered, bending down to pick up little Monique.
*************************************
Two days later, Tom was in his office trying desperately to assuage the tantrum of a three-year-old who refused to take a nap. Goro-san watched his half-brother in amusement as Tom tried to talk rationally to an irrational child. Finally, to his immense relief, Annie came in, and took charge.
It was amazing to she how well Annie and Suzy got along. Of course Annie and Suzy got along pretty well when Suzy was an adult. Through his own connections and those of his father Ishi, Tom was already well on the way to formally adopting Suzy. He thought back to that night in the restaurant more than three months ago when he and Suzy had talked about marriage and children.
He remembered Suzy's concern about her biological clock ticking. Now Suzy had all the time in the world, and Tom would be the one getting gray hairs when Suzy was old enough to date again. I'm going to need a wife and mother, he thought, but he didn't know where to start.
At that moment Annie reentered the room with Suzy. Suzy was laughing and giggling and Tom was struck how natural his secretary and former girlfriend looked together.
"Annie," Tom said.
"Yes, boss," she answered.
"I was wondering if you were doing anything tonight. For dinner I mean. It's just that you're so good with Suzy and well, I . . . I mean."
"Sure, boss, I'd be glad to."
""I . . . I guess you ought to call me Tom."
"Yes, Tom."
Goro grinned widely.
"What are you looking like that for?" Tom shot.
"Nothing, Thomas-san, nothing," Goro said laughingly. "Did you notice that before we took the child to the airport this morning that her eyes were now dark brown and her hair black."
***********************************
In a poor French cold-water farm house, a baby bawled. The mother lifted the small child from her cradle and rocked her carelessly back and forth. The mother was already pregnant with her next child and felt ill. Her child had been ill-tempered and colicky ever since coming back from America, but now after a couple of weeks she seemed to be calming down again. The mother lifted the flap of her coarse blouse and exposed a thick brown knobby nipple, chewed by seven children already. She forced the nipple between her daughter's protesting lips and eventually the child began to nurse.
It bothered the mother a little that when her daughter first came home she didn't look quite right. But over time, it was easy to see that she was becoming the spitting image of her Uncle Henri -- she even had his nose at this early age.
Underneath the blouse, close to the beating heart of her foster mother, little Angeline suckled noisily. The sights, sounds and smells of her home no longer repelled her as they did a week ago. In her infant's mind she remembered a different place . . . a different world . . . but it was fading away. She nuzzled into her mother's breast and enjoyed the warmth and security it offered. She slowly fell asleep, and dreamed baby dreams.
Contact the author at dreamtales@phuze.com
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