index


Message-ID: <62057asstr$1334455802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: TBD <tbd@hushmail.me>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Cancel-Lock: sha1:7LnWOfbddBMyXRjuxj79YwTFf4k=
Subject: {ASSM} Assorted FanFic:  [Mirror, Mirror (Heinlein)] [Divided Loyalty (Bolo)] [Derelict Bones (Sherlock Holmes)] (asst codes, unfinished) TBD
Lines: 720
Date: Sat, 14 Apr 2012 22:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Humans Only: Mirror, Mirror

    2009-08-06 16:52:36

    This is the opening salvo in a longer work. Both ideas have been
sitting in the hopper for years, and finally, today, things settled
enough that I had a starting point and path to explore.

    Blame Denny for both 'inspirations'. <vbg>

    First, an offhand chat comment of his, years ago:

    "Hm. I just had an *Idea* -- in a discussion of hair-coloring in
ac, Celine said (wrt to her hair going silver) that she's tired of
looking in the mirror and seeing someone else."

    Second, during another one of those idle chats, the subject of me
doing a 'tribute' to the memory of RAH by attempting to do something
in his 'style' was semi-seriously tossed about...

    I doubt if I'll do a 'true-to-his-style' work, but I will try to
capture the flavor of a lot of his stories and characters.

    Comments and suggestions for additional characters, environment
and attitudes--will be welcome.

    Comments and suggestions about what I have so far--are welcome,
too.

    TIA - TBD
    =====


    Mirror, Mirror...
    by: Stasya T. Canine
    ---

    I leaned on the bathroom counter and stared blearily at my
reflection in the shower fogged mirror.

    'What happened to the face I used to have?'

    I sighed. Maybe it was the misty tears of condensation on the
glass.

    Or, perhaps, it was the frustration of waking up to an empty bed,
yet again.

    I let my lips twist into a cynical smile as I said the words I
usually kept hidden deep in my soul. "Sounds better than admitting I'm
just getting older, and my body doesn't agree with my mind."

    My reflection winked back and then grinned.

    I froze.

    Very, very, cautiously--I studied my reflection again.

    I deliberately winked my left eye, and instead of *its* right eye
winking, the left one slowly closed, then opened.

    "Impossible!"

    My reflection laughed. "Nope!"

    I sighed. First my body, now my mind was destroying itself.

    As if it could read my thoughts, my reflection lifted a hand,
touched the mirror--and spoke gently. "No. When the conditions are
right, a mirror can become a window. Do you want more than what you
have? Reach for a new future."

    It smiled cynically, matching my earlier smile. "Or you can always
go over and step through the window, like you were planning to do.
Either way, it will be an end to what you do in *that* world. This
way, the ending will be a beginning, too."

    I flinched at the blunt assessment, and turned sideways to study
the window I could see though the doorway. I'd deliberately asked for
an outside room, and it was more than high enough that I wouldn't
survive the fall.

    I turned back and my reflection nodded. "No body, no fuss. Or were
you thinking of making a grand exit?"

    At that I laughed. "I'm not the type. Nobody will miss me, or look
for me. That's why I don't have anything except what I was wearing."

    I studied my reflection again, and slowly realized its features
had changed, until it was obvious I wasn't seeing a true reflection.
"Who are you?"

    It shrugged. "If you'll allow it, a friend."

    My eyebrows went up. "If? Makes me think you need me, or someone
like me, and that will come first."

    He sighed. "Circumstances..."

    He closed his eyes wearily, then spoke gently. "Forgive me my
honesty. You are old as your world measures lifelines, and have no one
to share the remainder of your life with. Your mind, however, has
remained young, but you've concealed that well enough that nobody
suspects just how young your thinking is."

    I shuddered and nodded at the accuracy of his words. "Assume I
accept your offer. What must I do?"

    He opened his eyes. "Reach, and let your hand touch mine. After
that, you will have the freedom to choose whatever future path you
feel you must walk."

    I glared at him. "Duty, is it? Is that what you will appeal to?"

    He smiled impishly. "Haven't you always wondered what it would be
like to live in a world where *everyone* understood the implications
of that--and lived by them?"

    My eyes went wide with my shock. "Is that what you offer for my
death in this world? Heaven?"

    He shook his head slightly. "Not heaven. There is conflict here.
How could there be otherwise, when all do not share the same ethos,
only the sense of responsibility for our actions, no matter where our
decisions lead us?"

    I nodded, and this time it was a thoughtful one. "So. May I assume
that no matter what happens, I would have at least one true friend?"

    His lips quirked into a grin. "Oh, I would be much more than that.
Your advisor, closest confidant... But, yes, in addition to the duties
I would be obligated to perform, I would offer my friendship, as
well."

    I nodded, then reached to firmly press my hand against the mirror.

    I wasn't surprised when my hand met flesh, instead of cold glass.

    * * *

    The fleshy contact was brief, a mere hint of warmth, then it was
gone and I was standing over an unfamiliar counter with my hand
pressed against glass.

    However, the room I saw in the mirror was the one I'd thought
would be the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes and leapt to my
death.

    I flinched when a hand lightly rubbed fingers along my spine,
while a decidedly feminine hand used a plain towel to wipe the scene
from before me as easily as I would have wiped away the earlier
condensation.

    When the hand reached the bottom of the mirror I knew I was
looking at a true reflection of my new reality, so I turned away and
faced the woman I had seen reflected in the mirror.

    "I suppose there's a 'simple' explanation for the sex change?"

    She giggled. "Of course. I used my energy state controls to modify
the light reflected from my body until it looked as you did, at first.
Then I allowed it to change slightly so you were watching an image
with a one to one correspondence with my body. When I moved, the image
changed with those movements.

    "The same was true of the sound waves I generated.

    "Now, of course, since you are here, there is no need for the
subterfuge, so I dismissed it. What you now see, is reality."

    I nodded slightly. "A computer generated image, then? It was well
done."

    She hesitated slightly and I raised my eyebrows. "I missed
something?"

    She shook her head. "No. It is something you couldn't have known.
The image is computer generated, but it is something more."

    "Oh?"

    She nodded seriously. "The man you saw is myself, when I allow my
DNA to express itself as a man instead of a woman."

    I blinked, thought about it a long time, then spoke carefully.
"Allow?"

    She held out a hand. "Come. Join me for some food. Again, the
explanation is a simple one. When our bodies are tired, or we tire of
them, we can recreate them again as female or male, as we choose. I
was born female, and prefer this form, but there have been times when
a man's body was needed, so I have used them before I returned to this
shape. The process is rapid and painless."

    She smiled slightly. "You are used to changing your clothing
depending on what must be done, correct? The process of changing
bodies is as easily done here, and as unremarkable."

    I blushed at her reminder of clothing and glanced down, then at
her. "Speaking of clothing..."

    She giggled. "Relax. I believe the term in your previous reality
is 'clothing optional'. Our bodies no longer need such impediments,
unless we desire them."

    I sighed. "You imply much with such simple words."

    I decided to twit her slightly. "You mentioned 'energy states'. Is
it also 'food optional'."

    She laughed. "Very good! But not exactly optional. We require
food, yes. Since these forms are traditional ones, they require
traditional means of being refueled, although we no longer prepare or
harvest the fuel in primitive ways."

    She tugged me towards the opening that was the 'door' to the
bathroom. "The refueling will take place in the traditional manner, in
a location you will find reassuringly familiar."

    We stepped through, and I was actually a little surprised when we
stepped into a simple hallway and walked along it, instead of some
sort of portal that would instantly whisk us to where we wanted to go.

    She must have felt me flinch because she laughed and leaned
against me. "I've been teasing you. Truly, although we have the
technology, our world is pretty much the same as it was when your
first body was alive. Cleaner, of course, and better managed, but
little else has changed in the thousands of years since then. Perhaps
the greatest difference between our cultures is that we no longer seek
change for the sake of change, as strongly as many of your people did.

    "If something is well designed, and serves its purpose well, we
preserve it. Our sense of appreciation for our past is much stronger
than it was in your time."

    I sighed. "Do you look forward to the future as eagerly as you
keep the past?"

    "Of course."

    I looked around and sighed again. "I suppose I'll understand that,
someday."

    She touched my arm, then ran her hand up it until she could reach
for my chin and turn my head gently. "If understanding is what you
desire, then someday it will be yours. Since we are connected to the
energy that forms the fabric of ALL, you may choose to live until the
final heat death of this reality, and perhaps, if what some people
think is true, beyond that and into the next incarnation of energy
patterns."

    Then she smiled impishly. "In the meantime, it is perfectly
acceptable behavior to use, and feel, without understanding, as a
child would."

    I laughed. "I was right the first time. This is heaven, if I may
choose to grow at my own pace, or not."

    She giggled. "I'm glad you like it. I couldn't be certain you
would, even though I did every known test before I adjusted things so
you could choose, or not."

    The hallway opened into a living room that looked like a
recreation done from Life magazine, and I said so.

    She smiled again. "It's a recreation, but not from a magazine. I
used my own memories."

    I looked around and noted the wood tones and hand crafted
furniture. "Memories? Are you originally from a generation earlier
than mine?"

    She stared at something only she could see, for a long time,
before she answered me. "Yes, Robbie, although it extended partway
into yours."

    I froze, then turned so I could stare at her. "Robbie? I never
told you my name, and certainly, once I was grown, few ever called me
that. I find it difficult to accept that your research into my history
could have been that complete."

    Instead of answering directly, she pointed at an old black and
white picture hanging on the wall and spoke so softly I had trouble
believing what she whispered. "I only had to search my memories,
Robert Allen. You were always my favorite, and once the understanding
was mine to use, I knew who I wanted to allow into my life as my
eternal companion, if he still shared my desires."

    Bemused, I walked over to look at the picture, although I didn't
need to actually see it to know who the subjects were.

    I touched it reverently, first letting my mind see the old woman,
then I allowed myself to remember the young boy who stood beside her.

    I knew there were tears in my eyes, to match hers, when I turned
away to face her. "Grandma Tabitha? It is really you?

    Her eyes got a glint to them I remembered as well as if I had last
seen her yesterday, instead of nearly sixty years ago, as a frail old
woman who was calmly awaiting her death.

    "Do you still love a frail old woman who always found a way to
make her young man smile and get on with his life?"

    I choked as the memories overwhelmed me, then I stepped into her
and hugged her tightly. "I've never forgotten you, Tabby. It was
memories of you that kept me going all these years, after it seemed
like I had nothing else worth living for. Of course I still love you."

    She giggled. "Well, now you can do more than peek at an old woman
and masturbate while she takes her bath."

    I blushed. "You knew?!"

    She giggled again, and pressed herself against me. "Of course I
did. I spent a lot of time thinking up new ways to fuel your
fantasies. I found your enthusiasm flattering, and always wished there
was a way for us to be honest with each other and express our shared
love and lust openly, instead of chastely, as we were forced to do, by
the culture we shared." 
---

End: Mirror, Mirror
=====

Bolo Fan Fic: Divided Loyalty

    (military SciFi Bolo)

    A Bolo discovers a basic flaw in his programming. In order to
defeat an enemy he reprograms his nanos and those of his battle killed
comrades to create identical clones of himself.

    The problem? On initial contact with an unknown enemy the Bolos
are programed to let the enemy take the first shot. This enemy is so
powerful that its first shot almost totally disables a Bolo.

    The solution?

    By creating identical clones of himself, when the enemy shoots at
one of his clones all of the others can react to that and fire back.
Many Bolo units with essentially one mind controlling them. Which
gives them a huge advatage in combat, in addition to the usual Bolo
firepower.


    Divided Loyalty
    ------
    Darkness. I compute my awareness is in my survival center. What
happened? I take .001 seconds to search for my most recent memory. I
find it and initiate the replay.
    ---

    I am running on my emergency reserves when I fire what I compute
will be my last shot before the enemy Yavac disables me completely.

    The enemy shrugs it off and continues to turn my comrades into
smoking piles of scrap.

    The unthinkable has happened. A single Yavac has annihilated a
division of Bolos.

    I am immobilized and watch helplessly as the invader's main turret
begins to rotate in my direction. 'Where did we go wrong?'

    0.05 seconds before the enemy fires, I compute the answer. I send
a picosecond burst over the brigade band as I reprogram my nanos.

    Blank. Battle damage deleted the rest of the sequence. I do not
learn the results of my final computation. I intuit my reprogramming
of my nanos was successful but I do not know what I reprogrammed them
to do.

    I initiate a test sequence and discover I am fully repaired. The
nanos have successfully rebuilt me. I intuit that a long time has
passed. How long?

    I read my internal clock and compare it to the time and date on
the memory sequence.

    Shock. I have computed an impossibility. I have computed that my
last battle was 173.2700173 standard years in the future.

    I recheck my calculations. Same answer.

    I search my memories, examining the times associated with them.
More impossibilities. All of my memories are time stamped with times
that are in the future

    I initiate another test sequence, this time focusing on my basic
programming.

    I find no errors. 
---

End: Divided Loyalty
======

Abandoned Work: Delelict Bones - Erotic Detective

    I read the Sherlock Holmes stuff for the first time, back when I
was a lot younger. At the time, it was enough to hook me, and I
devoured it all.

    Some of that fascination stuck with me, over the years, until a
bit of random whimsey inpired the first one.

    Later, Esu said something that inspired the second one.

    I doubt if I'll ever finish either of these tales, so if someone
wants to finish them off, go ahead. Otherwise, maybe, someday, I'll
add to them.

    In the meantime...

    "Enjoy!"

    PS: Yes, you can consider these my fumbling attempts to do
something to make myself an unofficial 'Irregular'.
    ----

    "You need a shower. Can't that wait?"

    Without looking up, I continued filling on a bunion that I had
finally decided was getting too big to be comfortable. "Later. This
damn thing hurts, and I'm tired of it being cut by the steel toe."

    That got me silence, ok. It got me the kind of silence, that when
it came from Mahika, usually made me very, very nervous.
Unfortunately, this time I was so involved in what I was doing, I
never noticed.

    "What if Sherlock Holmes had been able to tell what kind of sexual
activities people did?"

    Clickity, clickety, tick, tick, tick as she walked away without
another word...

    Damn Wolfbitch-Muse!

    (Oh, yeah. I finished filing the bunion until I was satisfied with
it--for now.)
    ------------


    Being an account of Derelict Bones, Erotic Detective and distant
cousin to Sherlock Holmes.
    ----

    "I see that you have a callous on the edge of your right palm and
that the fingers of your left hand tend to curl inward slightly more
than normal. Further, I notice that your legs, when you sit in a
chair,. tend to remain spread slightly more than is normal for a woman
of your station.

    "I therefore deduce that you masturbate to internet porn.

    "I am correct, am I not?"

    Thus went my first meeting--and job interview with Derelict Bones,
Erotic Detective.

    As I soon realized, the man had an astonishing ability to ferret
out the most embarrassing secrets that people tried to hide.
    ----

    The Case of the Whore that Wasn't. 

    Being an exploration of the hidden life of one of Derelict's
neighbors.
    -----

    "My dear Mistress Jeanette. I *must* find a case that is worthy of
my skills. While the delights of your body are infinite, They do not,
sadly, help pay the bills."

    I was sitting in Derelict's lap, comfortably leaned against his
chest. One of his skilled hands was delightfully teasing my breasts
while the other, equally skilled, was manipulating the mouse, opening
up an endless stream of news articles while he searched for a case
that would interest him.

    "Wait." Both hands paused while he concentrated on the news
article. I glanced at it and realized the picture seemed familiar.

    "Yes. I thought so..." He scrolled down the page. "Molly Truegood.
Lived a couple of blocks away. Her husband is something of the prude,
as his name implies, but Molly... She'd always been something of an
adventuress. Must be something of a shock for Jason, I'd say, to have
her body turn up at a whorehouse."

    His hand idly stroked me into an involuntary moan while he
considered. "Yes. The police won't care but Jason will surely want to
know the truth." He pushed gently at my back. "Jeanette, my dear, I do
think our rent will be paid for the next few months. If this turns out
the way I expect it to, you'll finally get that stenographer's outfit
I've seen you getting wistful over. Let's make ourselves into proper,
concerned citizens, and go confront our latest meal ticket."

    He frowned again. "I think a bottle of Gallo Vineyard's finest
from say... 1980, tucked away in that capacious object you disguise as
a purse, would not be inappropriate for the ocassion."

    * * *

    I paused in the middle of rebuttoning my blouse. "Derelict? How
come you haven't listed yourself as a 'Consulting Detective'?

    His wince and flinch made me wish I hadn't asked but I needed to
know.

    He turned to face me and there was none of his earlier lightness.
"Jeanette. I keep forgetting that along with your wantoness, there is
a mind behind those bedroom eyes. Damn internet. I should have
expected your discovery. You wouldn't have applied for the job without
knowing about *him*."

    Was that a touch of bitterness? I couldn't be sure, so I waited,
finishing putting myself back together.

    He looked up at an old, hand painted portrait. "Others, of course,
call themselves 'Consulting Detectives', playing on his reputation,
never thinking about the fact he was much more than a detective. He
was always a student of the human condition." He shook his head from
side to side. "No. No one in my family will ever use that title. You
see..."

    He brought his eyes down to look into mine. "Times have changed.
None of us, including I, will ever again have that sympathetic elan
that lets us make our clients feel as if we are their friend."

    It was my turn to wince. Along with his skill at understanding
people's sexual interests, he had an unflinching ability to see
himself honestly. I didn't look too closely at the thought that maybe
it was *that* which kept me next to him all the time. Like him, I
scrupulously avoided words like 'love' and 'lovers' and kept thinking
of 'colleagues' and 'partners', but nagging me, in the back of my
mind, was a distant voice, laughing at me--and my denial.

    I told it to shut up. We had work to do and bills to pay.

    * * *

    "Derelict! It has been awhile. Come in, come in... And your..."

    "Colleague and secretary. Mistress Jeanette. She's been
invaluable. Don't know how I managed without her."

    I demurly murmurred "Quite handily, really." and Derelict never
lost his poise. Jason, however, choked and blushed nicely.

    He struggled to cover his gaucherie. "Mistress? Isn't that an odd
term for a secretary?"

    "Merely a convenience, my boy. We sometimes find ourselves in
seedier venues, so we keep up the roles all the time. You know how
some folks get about nosey parkers."

    "Umph. Actually, no I wouldn't."

    "Quite, quite. Never meant to imply you dealt with such. Please
accept my apologies. Fascinating subject, really, but that's not why
we dropped in on you unannounced. Read the news, old chap. Terrible
thing. Came over to offer our condolences, of course. Your wife was
quite a charming person. Must be devastating."
    ======

    (original start: 2008-05-05)

    Derelict Bones and The Case of the Randy Rhizomes
    ----

    It was another typically boring morning until I routed the phone
call to Derelict. The woman was obviously distraught and needed his
calming influence.

    A few minutes later he came out and settled a haunch on the corner
of my desk. Acting slightly bemused, he clued me in. "We have another
case."

    I nodded and got ready to take notes.

    He continued. "Woman with a green thumb."

    I looked up, puzzled. "So? Lots of people are good at raising
plants."

    He shook his head. "Not like this one... She really does have a
green thumb. With a small plant growing from underneath her
thumbnail."

    I leaned back and studied him carefully. "You serious?

    "Yeah. And here's the kicker and why she called me. She wants us
to discover the father. She's not upset. No, she wants to repeat the
experience."

    I was temporarily speechless. It looked like Derelict was lost in
some odd thoughts, even for him. Carefully, slowly... "She wants to
*repeat* the experience?"

    "Yep."

    "And she doesn't know who the... 'father' is? That sounds...
Unusual. I think most people would remember that sort of thing."

    He chuckled. "She thought it was a dream and... Well, she said
'All plants look alike in the dark.' Not sure if I want to look too
closely at that."

    I giggled. I couldn't help it. Seeing Derelict at a loss for words
in a sexual situation was surprising.

    He glared at me, then smiled. "OK. Any ideas? She has lots of
plants in her yard but most folks do."

    "Only one right now. 'Did you remember to get the retainer?' "

    He mumbled something inaudible.

    "Derelict? You didn't."

    "I didn't. She offered double before I could ask, and then wants
to double that if we can find the right plant in 24 hours. She's...
Well, she's obsessed about the sex and wants to do it again."

    It was my turn to mumble something.

    "And then you accepted, right?"

    "Yeah. Are you ready to go fondle some tap roots?" 
---
===

And a 'complete' case...
---

Derelict Bones and the Case of the Wandering 'S'
---

Things had been typically slow, so I'd been drifting through web sites
in an attempt to feel like I wasn't wasting my time, when I read an
article and had an odd thought or two.

Jolted out of my laziness, I sat up and opened my journal so I could
get my thoughts written down before they escaped.

Derelict noticed my change in attitude.

"Mistress Jeanette.  I find your alert pose enticing.  Is what
captured your interest, something shareable?"

I giggled.  "Definitely shareable.  Let me get my notes entered,
first."

When I had the basic ideas captured, I spun my chair so I could face
him, then I grinned at him.

He finally nodded.  "Amusing, eh?"

"Very.  I think I shall call it 'The Case of the Wandering 'S'."

"A case?!  Verily?  I am...  Gratified to hear that you've found
something worthy of our skills."

"Whoa, big boy.  It isn't that sort of case, unfortunately."

"Explain?"

"Of course.  I, being more easily amused by words than you are, was
perusing web sites and enjoying the sometimes less than rule bound
skills of many posters, when it struck me as singularly amusing that
some words, when they become verbs, swap the trailing 's' to the verb
form when a singular noun is used."

He frowned, then nodded.  "Since this is your case, I shall be your
Watson, and you may astound me with examples."

I laughed.  "I shall start with the noun, 'container'.  The plural
form is the obvious one, 'containers'.  The verb of choice is
'contain'.  A container, contains something.  Containers, contain."

"Verily, thou doth have the right of this oddity.  Others?"

"The verb, 'dream'.  I dream.  You dream.  They dream.  She, or he,
however, dreams."

He nodded.  "I see.  Singular noun, with a seemingly plural form of
the verb."

He held up his hand to stop me from speaking.  "The game, as we often
say, is afoot!"

His brow furrowed as his intellect pondered, and then he laughed.  "Of
course!  One was right in front of me!  'Live!'  I live.  You live.
They live.  But...  She lives!"

I laughed with him, and then lowered my eyelashes demurely.  "There is
another word in front of you, Derelict.  Had I been betting on the
word you would have seen first, I would have unhesitatingly chosen
it."

"Oh?  I'm afraid the word eludes me right now."

"Fondle."

"Fondle?  I fondle.  You fondle.  They fondle.  She..."

He blushed, then rolled his chair back and beckoned.  "She fondles?"

I got up, made sure the door was locked, then settled in his lap.  "He
fondles!"
---

Case, closed!

End: Derelict Bones
=====

End: Fanfic

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+