Gemini Ch. 03

Lisa almost jumped at the sound of the latch releasing and looked towards her sister with alarm. "Wait, we haven't talked about what we're going to say!"

"It's OK, I'll take care of the conversation."

"What will we say our names are? I need time to memorise-"

"Lise, calm down!" Alison said firmly, but with a smile that was almost gentle. "This isn't a movie or a TV show; our names are our names. We're just journalists. Follow my lead."

With that, Alison got out of the car. Lisa's heart was thumping in her chest, but she unbuckled and followed suit. Alison walked around the car to the pavement as Lisa closed her door, and the two of them began the walk to the house where they hoped to find Dr. Miller. And some answers.

As they approached, Lisa noted the house itself wasn't nearly as grand or old fashioned as the mini-mansions that dotted the rest of the street. No massive, hedge-walled gardens; no brickwork cornices or battlements. The house of Dr. Kirsty Miller was decidedly modern in comparison: a single floor design, all white walls and full-height glass windows, that struck Lisa as looking more like a health centre than a home.

A single, metal gate attached to a chest-high wall was all that separated the public footpath from the mostly-paved front garden. There were plants and flowers, Lisa noticed, but noting struck her as natural. Everything green was neatly potted, placed almost equidistantly around the monoblocked frontage.

Alison unlatched the gate, which dutifully squeaked as it swung inwards, before ushering Lisa inside and closing it behind her. The two sisters made their way to the front door of the house. Lisa was almost surprised to see a traditional doorbell, instead of one of the many varieties of camera-equipped 'smart home' devices. Without warning, Alison reached out and rang it; it took great effort on Lisa's part to not start physically shaking with anxiety.

Several seconds passed, Lisa holding her breath for every moment of them, before the sound of footsteps from within the house started getting closer. Forcing herself to try and act normally, Lisa exhaled and attempted to remember how to breathe naturally. Then the door opened.

Stood in the doorway to her house, Dr. Kirsty Miller was not what Lisa had imagined. She'd thought of a bookish, ageing woman. Someone prone to cardigans and horned-rimmed spectacles. For some reason, she'd pictured a stereotypical librarian. Instead, what she saw was a trim, toned woman in her prime, wearing a Lycra sports bra and bottom combo. Her brown hair tied up in a messy pony-tail to keep it out of her face - which was covered with sweat - and clutching a water bottle in one hand, Dr. Miller's face was one of mild perplexion.

Oh shit, Lisa thought, immediately feeling a twinge in her panties. If the Doctor's svelte body wasn't enough, her face sealed the deal. Piercing brown eyes, wide and alert, so unlike Alison's. Eyebrows so expressive, Lisa imagined being able to read her emotional state from her forehead alone. And the smile - a sort of resting coy face; like she'd caught you in the act of doing something naughty, but approved.

"Who are you two, then?" she asked, slightly out of breath. Without waiting for a response, she took a swig from her bottle.

Lisa was still taking in Dr. Miller's features and was completely unable to respond. Alison held up her end of the bargain.

"I'm Alison, this is Lisa," she said, introducing the both of them. "We're journalists from The Gazette. Are you Dr. Miller?"

The doctor swallowed and arched an eyebrow. "Oh, journalists? Yes, I'm Dr. Miller. But please, call me Kirsty," she smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We have a few questions about some of the work you did several years ago at the University," Alison explained.

Kirsty's eyes widened and, from what Lisa could tell, seemed to dart about Alison's body. "My work, you say?" she echoed, still smiling that knowing grin. She turned her focus to Lisa, scanning her body in the same way. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as they darted in all directions.

"Around the late nineties, early noughties," Alison continued. "We'd like to discuss the circumstances around your somewhat meteoric rise through the discipline."

If Alison's probing was hitting a nerve, it definitely wasn't showing in Kirsty's expression. If anything, she only seemed to be getting happier. Lisa watched as the Doctor's focus shifted back to her sister, her stance still relaxed and inviting. Every exposed part of her body glistened with sweat, and the form-fitting fabric of her exercise clothing left very little to the imagination.

If there was any doubt left in Lisa's mind as to her new orientation, it had evaporated as soon as she'd seen Dr. Miller. I guess I like women now? Even compressed and restrained by the Lycra, Lisa could see that Kirsty had a generous pair of breasts; perhaps not quite as large as her own, but still bigger than Alison's newly endowed chest. While Lisa couldn't see her backside, she could see her hips, which seemed to skirt the line between slender and curvy.

"You'd better come inside, then," Kirsty said, her voice velvet as she turned around, leaving the door open. She walked back into her house, legs crossing with every step, the outline of her ass perfectly captured by the elastic of her leggings.

Alison nudged Lisa's elbow; she'd clearly been aware of her sister's slack-jawed admiration of the Doctor. "Keep it together, Lise!" she whispered coarsely.

Lisa nodded, and followed Alison as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"This way, girls," Kirsty called from up ahead, as she rounded the corner of the hallway. Lisa looked around as she walked - the house was larger than she'd thought, given the size of the entryway. The walls and ceiling were all immaculate white, while the floor was a simple chequered tile.

The two sisters passed an open door on their right as they followed their host, through which Lisa spotted a series of exercise apparatuses; a stationary bicycle, rowing machine and some weights. There could have been more, but Lisa didn't want to linger; they were close to some possible answers. But that's not the only reason. She had to at least be honest with herself; repressing desires didn't seem to be helping. Is this how guys are when they see a hot girl? How do they even function?!

Lisa soon followed Alison into what appeared to be a lounge or living room, which had only slightly more colour than the hallways. Two matching leather sofas, dyed light green, did nothing to detract from the clinical atmosphere. The seating area had a small glass coffee table in the centre, with the whole room illuminated by a massive skylight window. The afternoon sun filtered in, negating the requirement for any artificial light, but they appeared to be switched on regardless.

At the rear of the room was another door, leading to what Lisa imagined was a kitchen. She entered the lounge just in time to see Kirsty's shapely rear disappear through said door.

"Can I get either of you a drink?" she asked, her voice reverberating around the spacious room as it wafted from the kitchen.

Lisa looked to Alison for instruction on how to answer. I'm still thirsty...

"Nothing alcoholic," Alison replied, perhaps sensing Lisa's unspoken request, "I'm driving."

"Take a seat, I'll only be a moment," came the older woman's response. Following her instructions, Lisa and Alison sat down together on a sofa.

"You OK?" whispered Alison, looking serious. "You can go wait in the car if you think-"

"I'm fine," Lisa interrupted, matching her sister's volume. She paused before adding "I just didn't expect her to be..."

Alison's cheeks flushed. "Just try to focus," she replied, rubbing her left shoulder.

Less than a minute later, Kirsty came through with a towel draped over one shoulder and a couple of glasses of what looked to Lisa like fresh orange juice. "With bits, hope that's OK with both of you," she smiled.

"That's fine, thank you," Alison said, accepting the first glass. Lisa took the second, trying and failing to not stare at Kirsty's face as she did so. Kirsty just pursed her lips, still smiling, then turned around and sat down on the sofa opposite. Lisa immediately started drinking her juice, trying to hide her rapidly reddening cheeks.

"Sorry for the state of me," Dr. Miller said, patting herself down with the towel in a way that Lisa found extremely distracting. "You caught me in the middle of a workout." Alison sipped at her glass, as Lisa tried not to finish hers in one series of gulps.

"It's fine," Alison commented, placing her glass on the table. "It's your house, and we did come by unannounced on a Sunday. Thank you for even letting us in."

"Oh, it's rare I get visitors, so you're very welcome," Kirsty purred. Lisa put her glass down as well, legitimately fearing she'd drop it if she lost her concentration.

Alison flashed a rare smile before continuing. "So, as we said, we want to ask you a bit about your work at the University around the turn of the century." Lisa was sure she saw Kirsty's eyes sparkle again, but her smile didn't change. For fuck's sake, does this woman ever stop grinning?

"Is this about Dr. Grant?" Kirsty asked, her voice still smooth and unperturbed. "Because I made it very clear that I didn't agree with that man's methods."

To her credit, Alison didn't miss a beat. "Partly. We'd like to hear your side of things. Anything the official records glossed over or left out."

"Official records?" Kirsty parroted, arching one of her magnificent eyebrows.

"Not everything was redacted, Dr. Miller," Alison replied softly, mirroring her own raise of the brow.

"Aren't we resourceful?" Kirsty chuckled, apparently impressed. To Lisa's eye, every sentence that was spoken by either Alison or the Doctor seemed to be adding to some sort of unspoken excitement. A kind of tension was building, but she couldn't work out why.

"That's what makes us good journalists, Dr. Miller," Alison explained.

"Please," Kirsty said, tossing the towel to the other end of the couch, "Kirsty." Lisa was almost entranced, watching the both of them perform this verbal dance.

"Alright, Kirsty."

"So what would you both like to know?"

Alison took a deep breath. Lisa held hers. This is it.

"We want to know more about the details of the first documented case of F.U.T.A.," Alison replied levelly.

Kirsty's expression flickered for a moment, almost imperceptibly. Lisa saw the same genuine amusement and pleasant demeanour, but something else had crept into her eyes. "Wherever did you learn about F.U.T.A.?" the doctor asked, almost innocently, but with enough of a hint of suggestiveness to preclude that possibility. She knows something!

Alison seemed to latch onto this, too. "Where we learned about it isn't important right now," her sister commented, while Lisa's eyes darted back and forth between the two. "We have reason to believe that your work in relation to F.U.T.A. was directly tied to your ascent through the university and subsequent success."

"Go on," Kirsty almost goaded, still seemingly unfazed.

Alison's face tightened into something approaching a grimace. "There was clearly a cover up," she continued, "and it's evident that you benefited from the outcome. We want to know more about what really happened."

Kirsty reached around the back of her head and loosened her ponytail, allowing her hair to fall in loose waves down to her shoulders. "I'm sorry to disappoint you girls, but about the only thing I can confirm is that I did sign an NDA," she sighed. "The university swore me to secrecy everything related to Project Gemini."

That was a term Lisa hadn't heard or read before. She did her best to keep her expression unchanged, hoping that Kirsty was too focused on Alison to notice her surprise.

Alison continued as if nothing had happened. "I'm sure that NDA was very lucrative, but I have to imagine you only agreed to it under certain conditions."

"You'd imagine correctly," Kirsty confirmed, running her fingers through her hair.

"One of them being that the project stopped?"

Kirsty literally froze; her hand stopped mid-comb and her smile showed the slightest hint of fading for the first time. Lisa watched as her eyes flicked between the Alison and Kirsty. Oh fuck, does she know?

Alison continued, either unaware of the shifted dynamic or pressing on regardless. "If you disagreed with Dr. Grant's work, I can't imagine you'd be eager to see it still around today."

Kirsty resumed her previous nonchalant movement and sultry mien, but Lisa had caught a glimpse behind the curtain.

"I never said I disagreed with his work," Kirsty responded, sitting forward slightly, "just his methods."

Alison matched Kirsty's movement, sitting up from her previously reclined position. "What if we were to tell you that we have evidence that Project Gemini never truly stopped?"

Lisa was dumbfounded by Alison's boldness. She was throwing around terms she'd only just heard and hoping they didn't reveal her true ignorance. To Lisa, it was like doing a jigsaw puzzle in the dark, and while the reward might be worth it, she was having difficulty in keeping her composure in the face of the risks. She can't know, can she?

Kirsty's smile widened. "Oh I'd be very interested to hear about that..."

"Quid pro quo, Kirsty," Alison said, reclining again.

Kirsty placed her right index finger on her bottom lip and appeared to be considering her options. After a few moments, she formed her reply. "So in return for my story, you promise to show me evidence of the continuation of Project Gemini?"

Alison seemed to hesitate before replying. "Yes."

Kirsty turned her penetrating eyes towards Lisa. "And what about you?" she asked. "You've been awfully quiet."

Lisa felt like a deer in headlights. "I, uh..."

"You do have evidence, I hope?"

Lisa could feel the evidence between her legs, pulsing ominously. Despite what amounted to genuine fear, there was no denying her continued arousal and attraction to this woman. "I promise, we have evidence," she confirmed.

"And as journalists, you won't reveal your source, should anyone deign to ask?"

Alison nodded tersely.

"Then let me start from the beginning," Kirsty grinned, "so as to ensure you have all the answers you need."

-

It was the early 2000's. 2003 maybe? I'd have to check. I'd have been about your age, anyway. Perhaps slightly older. Freshly qualified as a biological research assistant at the university. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as they used to say.

I was assigned to a certain Dr. Grant's team. You girls wouldn't know, of course, but to be assigned to Dr. Grant was like winning the lottery for us graduates. Hushed whispers about the secret projects he worked on had fluttered around the campus for years.

You'd see him walking around occasionally, always flanked by assistants, carrying some important looking documents, or an early attempt at a laptop. I'd worked so hard to get top grades and have a chance to work with him, and now my efforts were paying off.

My first day as part of Dr. Grant's team, I didn't see him at all. I spent the whole morning and most of the afternoon filling in NDAs - non-disclosure agreements, you understand - and getting jabbed with all sorts of needles. Vaccines, they assured me. Dr. Grant worked with some cutting edge and potentially hazardous materials, they said. Of course, his current project was nothing of the sort, but we'll come to that.

My second day, feeling succinctly under the weather, I was introduced to the rest of the team, and to Dr. Grant himself. The man, who had been someone I'd looked up to for my entire academic career, turned out to be gruff and dismissive; he seemed entirely focused on his work and didn't spare me much more than a cursory glance.

"You new?" he'd asked. I nodded and tried to stumble out a response, but he cut in before I could get a word out. "Get the rest of the team to fill you in on the project. I expect you to be a contributing member of this group before the week is out, or you're out. Understood?"

I nodded again and was ushered away by other assistants, who weren't entirely unsympathetic. All of them had no doubt been through the same gruelling test. I mustered my professional detachment and tried to brush it off, but that meeting immediately soured my opinion of Grant. Never meet your heroes, girls.

But you're not here to listen to me prattle on about how I got started, are you? No, you want to know about Project Gemini. Well, so did I. And so it was that I was introduced to the two subjects of the project. Two women - still girls, really - who had been kept in captivity for their entire lives. Subject A and Subject B. Twins, born in mid-1986.

Not identical, though. Details of who their parents are, or were, had been thoroughly deleted in every physical and virtual way. Bear in mind that most of what comes next is second-hand information; I came to the project relatively late, so a lot of what I'm saying is hearsay, passed down over the years by those who came before.

Anyway, the only one who knew their true origins was Grant, and he wasn't about to divulge that information. Their parentage wasn't nearly as important as their own existence, however. They had been the subject of genetic engineering, you see. Dr. Grant had been playing god for years with embryos and stem cells, all slightly altered in ways he wouldn't explain to anyone. I mention that they weren't identical twins, but that applied in more ways than normal. You see, while Subject A was born a completely healthy baby girl, Subject B was... different.

You might call it intersex, but that would be a gross oversimplification given what we discovered later. But at birth, it appeared completely benign. Just very rare. Subject B had all of the outward appearance of a genetic female, but scans revealed nascent testes inside, like you would find on a male, as well as ovaries. Whether this was the goal of Dr. Grant's experimentation or if it was a complete fluke, he never said.

From the birth onwards, Dr. Grant divided his time more or less equally between the girls and his work with genetic engineering. Of course, to keep two human beings captive - babies or not - required immense secrecy and funding from the university, or rather, Dr. Grant's select donors. I doubt the main faculty were even aware of what was going on under their campus all those years.

I'm not privy to the specifics of how the two were raised, but by all accounts, they seemed to be normal. They socialised with the adults who supervised them; didn't seem to mind the constantly changing faces. Their only constant was the infrequent visits of Dr. Grant. It was like this for years. It wasn't until the two subjects hit puberty that Grant shifted his entire focus to the girls.

Periodic internal scans of both girls showed abnormal activity around their reproductive organs. Subject A's ovaries and womb were exceedingly fecund, with ovum counts through the roof. Extraction and analysis showed that their protective walls were doing almost the exact opposite of normal human ova, actively attracting other cells and enveloping them. Her womb, meanwhile, was a perpetual metaphorical garden; constantly regenerating it's lining in preparation for pregnancy. Her body naturally re-absorbed the nutrients used in its creation, instead of wasting it with menstruation.

Subject B's changes were more subtle. Her testes never dropped, having nowhere to drop to, but continued to grow internally. The quantity of semen and spermatozoa bordered the impossible - the body was adapting to somehow compress and increase the supply of both, in ways we still don't fully understand. Imagine how we fit hours of oxygen in canisters for diving, except wholly organically, and you're along the right track.