Gemini Ch. 03

Though they had been raised together without issue, as they progressed through puberty, the girls began to show increased animosity towards one another. What the researchers assumed to be a growing dislike we now understand was simply misplaced emotional outbursts that their brains were not yet ready to process... but none of us knew that at the time. Both were given their own space, and both seemed happier because of it.

That all changed, of course, almost as soon as they hit the end of their puberty. At age 18 - to the day, in fact, as they were together to celebrate their birthday - was what we simply called 'the incident'.

Subject B started to develop what appeared to be a fever mid-way through the festivities. Subject A showed concern, but no other signs of malaise, so offered to take her sister back to her room. Observation of the two had become less invasive now that they were adults; indeed, Dr. Grant had all but lost interest in the two of them, pivoting back towards his original genetic studies. Cameras installed in both of their rooms had long since been de-activated - at least during the day. I say this to explain why it took us several hours to notice that Subject A hadn't left her sister's room since early that morning.

When researchers entered Subject B's room, they were confronted with the two sisters... shall we say, in flagrante? Reports of the event indicate that they were both completely naked, passionately, furiously kissing one another. Both were drenched with sweat, saliva and vaginal fluids, their hands and legs writhing across their bodies in apparent ecstasy.

Are you alright there, Lisa? Do you need more to drink? No? Alison? I'll continue, then.

Initially hesitant to interfere, lest they bear the wrath of Dr. Grant for doing something unprompted, it wasn't long before the doctor made his way to the room and insisted they be separated at once. By that time, the two were almost completely non-verbal, reduced to nearly animalistic grunts and moans. But as soon as researchers attempted to pull them apart, they responded violently.

There were a great deal of minor injuries sustained that day, while Dr. Grant merely stood back and observed, barking orders to his hapless subordinates as they suffered elbows and knees, knuckles and teeth. The two sisters did not want to be parted, so consumed were they with their fruitless fornication. Of course, neither had been educated in the ways of sex; not even masturbation had been covered. This was initially just put down to years of pent-up sexual inhibition being released at once. An argument, perhaps, for the innate human nature to experience the pleasure of our bodies, hmm?

Of course, it was much more than that. Finally, it was decided to sedate them both. Once the tranquilizer had taken effect and both girls were unconscious, Subject A was removed and returned to her own room, and it was left to the newest research assistant to clean up the room and re-bed Subject B.

It was my third fucking day.

We can now, therefore, return to my first-hand account. I had been fascinated by the entire project from the minute I'd seen the first files. As a biologist, my interest was primarily fuelled by the unique sexual characteristics of both of the subjects. However, what I was about to see was like adding nitrous oxide to that flame.

I asked for a futon and blanket to be brought in, which my slightly aghast peers quickly agreed to, only too eager to be anywhere but the scene of whatever had just happened. Militant incest was apparently not part of the job description. I manhandled Subject B onto the thin bedding and covered her modesty for the time being.

During my work - stripping the bed, changing the entire mattress, mopping up the excess fluids - I noted that Subject B had begun to stir. This was unusual, inasmuch as the sedative given to her should have knocked her out for several hours at least. Her movement drew my attention and I was about to call for assistance when I saw a protrusion from under the blanket. I admit, my curiosity got the better of me.

Underneath the blanket, poking up from between Subject B's legs, was what appeared to be a male penis. And it was growing.

Not just becoming erect, you understand, although it was doing that as well. It was actually growing, from what appeared to be underneath the clitoral hood. Defying all known biology, a phallus was appearing in front of my eyes. It had claimed the urethra in its ascent, so it looked to all appearances to be a fully-functional - albeit circumcised - male reproductive organ. A hypothesis quickly confirmed by the appearance of a translucent, but slightly milky substance, that began to bead and dribble from the tip.

I won't lie. I was completely transfixed. I have been trying to keep this account as professional and detached as possible, but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention my motivation for what's to come. As I mentioned, I was of an age with yourselves at the time, meaning I was also around the same age as both of the subjects. I had always considered myself a lesbian woman, and I have no hesitation in saying that both Subject A and B were very attractive. And now here was something in front of me that represented the best of both worlds? A woman, but equipped with a penis.

I touched it. I cannot tell you why I let my professionalism slip like that, but I did. I held it in my hands and I felt it throb. Subject B let out a low moan, then mumbled what sounded like her sister's name. I can remember every second of those few moments, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I wanted to do so much, both physically and conceptually. I could see my entire future opening up like a flower in my mind, unfurling its petals towards a life I'd never even imagined until then. I could envision it all so clearly... but my ambitions were halted before they even began.

It was the sound of footsteps down the hall - unmistakably Dr. Grant - that pulled me back, both mentally and literally, snapping my arms to my sides and standing up. He had seen me lift the blanket on the cameras, which had now been turned back on. Thankfully, he'd left the monitors in his office before he'd seen me grab Subject B's new organ, and was practically beaming when he came into the room. Like something he'd hoped would happen for years had finally occurred.

He turned his attention away from Subject B only for a moment to address me. "New girl, Doctor...?" he asked, leaving me to fill in the blank for him.

"Kirsty Miller," I replied, "but I'm just a researcher."

"Miller," he echoed, "you and I are the only two people who know about this and we will be keeping it that way until I say otherwise. Do this, and I guarantee you will be a doctor within a month. Are we clear?"

From that day onwards, I was effectively promoted to Dr. Grant's personal aide. No explanation was given, and even my peers didn't care to ask why I'd been given the position. I think most of them pitied me, since I was now at Grant's complete beck and call. I was responsible for ensuring the complete secrecy of Subject B's condition, as well as both girls' continued sedation.

You see, that initial dose of tranquilizer? The one that should have put them to sleep for half a day? It wore off the both of them within 45 minutes. Like their bodies were rejecting it. And as soon as they were even remotely conscious, the first words out of their mouths were each others' names. What's even more unnerving is that they seemed to be able to sense the presence of one another. Their rooms were right next to each other, and both seemed to paw at the wall separating the two of them in their half-conscious stupor.

Over the next few weeks, the team shrank from dozens of researchers to a select handful. None of them were fully brought into the fold, so to speak, but each was given a piece of the puzzle. Just enough for them to perform their allotted task, but never enough for them to put the whole picture together. That was the sole purview of Dr. Grant and myself.

Since it was only Subject B who had undergone any physical change, he dubbed the condition Fecund Urethrine Transformation Abnormality. F.U.T.A., in other words.

Dr. Grant threw himself into experiments like a man possessed. He regaled me with his theories that he'd been working on over the years, the words flowing out of him like a torrent. I think he was actually relieved that he had someone he could talk to about it all, even if that someone was only trusted out of circumstance and not choice.

He posited that what he called a 'quantum event' had occurred in the womb of Subject A and B's mother. That their twin embryos had been somehow entangled, in a similar way to a qubit, but on a macro scale.

I see from both of your expressions that you're not familiar with quantum mechanics? Hardly surprising. It's not exactly part of the standard curriculum. To put it simply, the idea behind quantum entanglement is that two particles can become linked, so to speak. This link is so strong that it overcomes any obstacle; barriers, whether they be physical or distance, have no bearing on the connection. If you manipulate one particle, its twin will exhibit an equal reaction.

Grant's theory suggested that every atom of the twin embryos had been similarly linked, and that once they had reached maturity, they would seek to recombine and become one again. In their efforts to do so, they would possess the same quantum connection and be able to communicate across any distance.

He'd sold it to his funders as a completely untraceable method of clandestine communication with absolutely no technology involved. Imagine the government of this country in possession of pairs of spies who could relay everything they were experiencing in real time, no matter the distance or disconnection, without any need for technology. It would completely revolutionise the world of espionage, in a way they only dreamt of during the Cold War.

What a short-sighted fool. Of course he only saw the benefits to him and those holding the purse strings. He completely covered up Subject B's transformation. Paid absolutely no heed to the implications of what it could mean for the wider human race. The only things that mattered to him were his theories and the experiments he continued to conduct.

For whatever reason, the connection didn't seem to work when the sisters were sedated, but when they were awake, they became uncontrollable. We'd managed to quantify a portion of the effect as being the result of pheromones; overwhelmingly potent ones, but seemingly solely targeted to one another. They had no effect on anyone else on the team. But it wasn't all chemical - something else was behind a significant portion of the attraction. Grant was convinced it was evidence of the quantum connection, but he couldn't replicate it.

Once, when I was feeling particularly brave, I had suggested letting them be together again, to monitor the results. He berated me for a solid hour before letting me get back to work. Keeping them just sedated enough to be barely conscious, so he could run his tests.

It was the next day when he called me in to his office and actually apologised. He'd said that I'd given him an idea. That he was going to extract the sperm and ova from both subjects and test them in the labs. See if their quantum properties would be easier to manipulate in a petri dish. The idiot. He never even considered trying to just talk with the two human beings in his custody!

I kept my tongue, nodded and smiled. He prattled on for a while, talking about giving me credit, like I'd submitted a thesis. I left that room a Doctor; how he managed to get that past the rest of the faculty, I'll never know, but I was now Doctor Kirsty Miller. I should have been ecstatic, but I felt completely disillusioned. Every shred of potential I had seen in this project was being wasted by this man's myopic vision of what these girls were capable of.

But I really should have counted myself lucky, because his experiments resulted in nothing but failure. The sex cells, when extracted, showed no signs of interaction when held apart. When put together, despite my fervent hopes, the cells mutated into an unviable mass in front of our eyes. The same thing happened when third party donor sperm was used with Subject A's eggs and vice versa with Subject B's sperm and third party donor eggs. I was about to repeat my suggestion of letting the two meet again, but thought better of it. I needed something that would appeal to his experimental nature. Something that could be controlled.

"What about artificial insemination?" I asked. "Let the cells combine in a natural environment."

He looked up from his lab desk, his face the picture of crazed approval, then immediately began the preparations. I allowed myself a thin smile of a half-victory, I remember. Since leaving the room that first day I saw Subject B's penis, I'd thought about it - and her - almost constantly. It wasn't the coupling that I longed to... witness... but it would at least allow me to see the results of an artificial union.

So it was, that while she slept in her medically-induced torpor, I extracted a fresh sample of semen from Subject B's internal testes. The sheer quantity still amazed me - enough to fill the entire test beaker. I can still remember sudden and almost overpowering urge to run away with it and keep it all for my own purposes. Instead, with surprisingly little ceremony, I used the medical equivalent of a turkey baster to suck up as much of the semen as possible and took it into Subject A's room.

Her legs were already in the air, held apart by stirrups that had been attached to the bed. Her vagina seemed to pulse with anticipation as I approached, Dr. Grant nearby and watching her vitals on a series of readouts. Always more interested in the data, even now.

Adrenaline searing through my veins, I spread Subject A's labia. I inserted the syringe full of semen as deep as I could and, my breath shuddering, pressed down on the plunger. A solid 250ml of Subject B's sperm were released inside her sister. Despite the volume, not a single drop came back out.

"Fascinating," Dr. Grant said from across the room. I composed myself as quickly as I could, as the man always wanted attention paid to him.

"What is it, Doctor?" I replied after a moment. I knew better than to make assumptions about his focus. It would never be on what was actually interesting. Except this time I was wrong.

"Her womb is convulsing and expanding," he explained, pointing to the imaging monitor. Some secret method of combining CT and MRI scans with little-to-no radiation; never seen anything like it before or since. Anyway, it showed exactly what Grant was describing. Subject A's womb was writhing around intruding semen.

At first, I panicked, thinking her body was rejecting her sister's sperm, but I quickly relaxed when I realised it was exactly the opposite. Somehow, her cervix had allowed all of the fluid inside. The walls of her womb were undulating in such a way as to guide the semen inwards, towards her fallopian tubes. Her ovaries were practically vibrating on the monitor.

"She's guiding the sperm towards her eggs," I remarked, incredulous. I hadn't expected anything like this.

"I must report this to our patrons immediately," he said, eyes glassy but focused. "Remain here and continue recording these readings."

"Of course, Doctor," I replied. He couldn't have dragged me out of there. I watched as the semen reached all the way to Subject A's ovaries. Impregnated while she slept, like a true Sleeping Beauty. I couldn't know for sure that it would be a successful implantation, but part of me knew there could be no doubt. Any worries or misgivings I had about the aims of the project evaporated. I resolved right there, in that room, that I would make my ambitions reality. But I would need to be patient.

Within days, my hunch was proven correct. Subject A was pregnant. After six weeks, an early scan showed that it would be twins. To me, it was the most amazing news. I felt almost like a third mother, but without any, shall we say... familial inhibitions? Not that those inhibitions seemed to be present in the sisters anyway. I saw in those two foetuses the future of the human race. If even one of them had the same mutation as one of their mother's...

For the first two trimesters of the pregnancy, I bided my time. Both sisters were kept unconscious, but we noted a seeming decrease in their restlessness as the gestation progressed. Grant made the occasional in-person visit, but spent the majority of his time off-campus, presumably presenting his latest findings to his funders. My plan was to request access to either Subject A and B, or ideally their offspring, as a project under my sole jurisdiction. Surely I'd earned that?

But when Grant returned one winter evening, ashen faced and with a thousand yard stare, I knew something was amiss. I was about to head home for the evening, coat on, lights turned off, when he appeared in the doorway to my lab.

"They're pulling our funding," I remember him saying, his voice leaden.

It was preposterous. "They can't..."

"They are, Miller," he replied sharply. "Someone in the faculty who is not on their payroll has found out about what we're doing here. They're paying them off, of course, but that means no more money for us."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I wasn't thinking clearly. "I'll work for free, Dr. Grant!"

"This is not up for debate," Grant retorted, steel returning to his voice. "Idiots. Petty ethical quandaries shouldn't be grounds to... to..." he finished, balling his hands into fists in front of him. It was clear that Grant hadn't been wholly honest with his funders about the methods he employed. "We are to collate our findings, hand them over to our benefactors and terminate the research."

I either chose not to hear that part, or didn't fully comprehend what he was saying. I don't remember which. This bit is mostly a blur.

"They'll just file it all away, like they did with my father's work in the seventies!" he continued, a quiet rage building. I have no idea what he was referring to. "Bastards, the lot of them. I'll not be silenced like him. They can't take what I know," he turned to look at me, tapping the side of his head.

"What about me?" I asked, confusion turning me pitifully meek.

He looked down his nose at me, like he'd done on my first day in his lab. "You got yourself a doctorate out of this. Be thankful."

I was about to formulate a response when he turned away and started walking towards his office. "I'll begin the work of submitting our data and deleting the backups. You can do the physical documentation in the incinerator after you're finished with the termination."

"Termination?" I repeated, still unaware of the extent of the demands placed upon him. Grant turned around with disgust on his face.

"Yes, Miller, termination," he parroted. "You are to terminate Subject A and B, cremate their remains and dispose of them."

"You're asking me to murder them?!"

"I am telling you to administer a lethal injection of chemicals to Subjects A and B, then take their bodies and cremate them," he replied coolly, without any of the emotion one would expect of a normal human being. I knew then, if I hadn't before, that Grant was the closest thing to evil I had ever seen. Truly devoid of any empathy.

"They're not just test subjects; they're human beings! One of them is pregnant!"

"Perhaps I am not making myself clear," Grant intoned, seeming to stand a foot taller as he approached me. "I am telling you to dispose of the test subjects, Dr. Miller, precisely because it is murder."