Process Maturity

It wasn't every day in Cyberdream that you had to go to the doctor, but Nicholas could tell this was one of those times. He didn't feel like himself. For the past week, his energy levels had been fluctuating wildly; sometimes tired, sometimes amped up more than he'd felt in years. His body was aching, he was moody, extremely hungry, and way too horny for his own good. He was usually well practiced at exerting his willpower over his baser urges, but this week it was like the feelings he thought he'd put behind him were hammering at the walls of his mind, demanding release. He'd done the responsible thing and made an appointment to see a doctor. If he'd been hit with a digital virus corrupting his code, or worse if there was a problem with his physical body, it was important to get it taken care of right away.

"Mr. Arran, the doctor will see you now."

It was a strange experience, seeing a doctor in the 'Dream. The visit was part stereotypical physical tests and clinical professionalism, part scanning of code by diagnostic programs that had nothing to do with a human body. There were no traditional pathogens in Cyberdream. It could simulate illness, a legacy from its early days as a game one chose to play, rather than a world that all of humanity had to inhabit. But while it was fantastically detailed in its fooling of the senses, there was just no need for people to get the flu. Doctors weren't obsolete, however; there were still potential issues that required medical intervention. Whether it was a mental illness, a genetic anomaly, or a corruption to real image code, life in the 'Dream was no guarantee of perfect health. Nicholas had physical and psychological symptoms, which made him wonder which it was.

"Well, Mr. Arran, your scans have come back, and I think I'm going to have to refer you to a specialist. With the symptoms you've described, and the subroutines that are being accessed by your real image to express them, I believe you have a genetic and hormonal condition for which there's not exactly a standard course of treatment."

"I was afraid it would be something complicated. I guess a quick fix was too much to hope for. What's the condition called? I'd like to do some research on my own, just so I'm prepared."

"Puberty."

"Excuse me? Are you... Are you joking?"

"Not at all, Mr. Arran. Obviously you're familiar with the term, and the condition; after all, you've experienced it before. The symptoms you've told me about line up, and the diagnostic programs are quite clear that your image is running code to represent the gradual physical changes associated with reaching sexual maturity. It doesn't seem to know that it already ran that code and isn't supposed to do so again. This isn't unheard of, it's just rare enough that you'll need to consult a doctor who studies it in particular."

"But I'm in my thirties, isn't that a bit late?"

"True, when this kind of thing happens, it usually happens somewhat earlier in life. Still, cases of a second puberty at thirty-five or even forty aren't entirely unheard of, and the fact that you seem to be one of the rarer cases is further reason I would like you to see a specialist. I don't want you to worry, you're going to be fine. You're not in any particular danger, and this code is entirely safe to run, seeing as it runs on almost everyone once. I'll have the office send your referral over as soon as we've found an available practitioner, and until then I recommend you simply do your best to ignore it. Look at it this way, you've already been through puberty once, so you know what to expect, and you have another two decades of life experience on top, so you can do it better this time."

There wasn't really much choice if he wanted to get treatment, so Nicholas accepted the referral and made an appointment with one Dr. Ratcliffe. It would be a bit of a trip; specialists in conditions like this were few and far between. Three days later, he stepped off a train in Rhode Island and caught a taxi to the medical center where, he hoped, the end to his distracting hormonal issues could be found. He definitely didn't doubt the diagnosis, considering the sexually charged dreams he'd been having. He really was feeling like a teenager again, which might even have been an unexpected but not unwelcome blessing, were he not so alone. As it was, he had presumed that part of his life was effectively over, except that now his body wasn't listening. He had a life, maybe not the one he'd imagined, but as fun as it might sound to see what a man with experience and stability could do with the sex drive he'd had 20 years ago, he should make the rational decision and resolve the problem as soon as possible.

The office was surprisingly comfortable, the decor more reminiscent of what you'd find at a therapist than a physician's or business' office. Nicholas checked in with the receptionist, and before he could find a seat to wait, she pointed to a door and told him he could go in to see the doctor. Come to think of it, he didn't see any other patients, and Dr. Ratcliffe was a specialist in a rare condition, so why would he have needed to wait? The room he entered was a strange mixture of visuals; it was designed to put people at ease, again like a therapist's office, but a high-end workstation and a corner devoted to equipment for deep code scans made a sharp contrast.

Even more surprising was Dr. Ratcliffe herself. She was dressed quite professionally, the long white coat that had long marked physicians worn with the ease of familiarity. Her blond hair was done up in a neat bun, her clothes were fashionable without leaving practicality behind, and Nicholas was fairly certain that her glasses were an affectation meant to give her an air of competence rather than a necessary vision correction. All of that was entirely expected of a specialist physician. Less expected, however, was the figure barely concealed beneath the wardrobe of a medical professional. Her face was gorgeously feminine, with high cheekbones, large blue eyes, a pert nose, lips full and plump. Her blouse stretched over perhaps the largest breasts he'd ever seen, dominating her torso and reaching nearly to her navel even contained as they were by garments made for professionalism. The slim waist just below them made a dramatic contrast with the flare of her hips, which made for a devastating hourglass figure, especially paired with a huge jiggling butt that not even the most practical of slacks could quite hide. She looked more like an adult film star dressed as a doctor, and Nicholas' own body couldn't help but notice, embarrassing him by springing immediately to full erection.

"Come in, Mr. Arran, have a seat. I'm glad you could make it, we have much to discuss. Was your trip too terribly long?"

"I've had worse, and it was for good reason. I certainly hope you can help me get this solved."

"Your case is a most interesting one, Mr. Arran, and I look forward to working with you to manage it."

That didn't sound particularly encouraging. Doctors didn't usually call ailments that they could resolve quickly "interesting". Hopefully there wasn't much bad news. "So you've had a chance to look over my case? I'm not really sure what questions to ask here."

"I have, and I don't blame you. There isn't much information out there for you to find, not that isn't buried in obscure medical journals. I've reviewed your genetic profile, and compared it against our database of known markers for puberty recurrence. As it happens, you carry a number of alleles known to trigger the sexual maturation process multiple times. This isn't solely a matter of the Cyberdream codebase, your physical body is experiencing something similar."

"Not solely? So there is a code problem?"

"Indeed there is, Mr. Arran. Puberty recurrence is sufficiently rare that the simulation was not designed to accurately represent it, and it's surprisingly complex and causes changes throughout the body, so pinning down the updates necessary has been particularly difficult. In the physical, the effects might be relatively limited, although I must say in your case that 'relatively' would likely still be quite significant. In essence, your body is trying to go through sexual maturation again; some hormonal signals can build on top of what already happened the first time, while others find nothing to do because there's nothing left to mature. Cyberdream, however, is trying to simulate the effects of the hormones on your real image, and the routines that do so aren't coded in such a fashion as to be able to recognize any past instances of the same routines."

"What you're saying, then, is that the code won't hit limits the same way my physical body might, so all the changes I went through as a teenager are going to happen just like they did before?"

"That's almost correct. Mr. Arran, may I call you Nicholas? It would help."

"Of course, doctor."

"Thank you. Nicholas, I'm going to be upfront with you. The scans of your real image and the analysis of your genetic profile suggest that you're experiencing what we call, and I hope you'll excuse the informality of the term, the 'full package'. That term connotes, as I'm sure you know, that you're going to experience everything conditions like yours could possibly have in store. It's also easily construed euphemistically, but because we're talking about puberty recurrence, it's not a particularly inaccurate euphemism. You're quite likely going to undergo significant growth of your genitals, you'll probably put on some additional muscle mass, and you may find your facial hair grows faster, although that's one area that Cyberdream handles better than the rest. More importantly, you might notice I've been saying 'puberty recurrence' rather than the more popular 'second puberty'. I've been doing that for a reason. This isn't going to simply play out as it did the first time through. The code isn't just running once more, it doesn't know to not run when triggered."

This was not as limited of bad news as he had hoped. "Are you telling me that this is going to happen to me over and over? What triggers it?"

"The initial onset is still rather a mystery, probably a combination of genetic and environmental factors; it happens when your physical body says it happens. Once that's begun, however, your image code runs into a tangle of logic that we haven't yet unraveled, and it triggers new instances of some or all of the routines in response to sexual stimulation. Here's where I have to ask some questions, and probably disappoint you. Are you sexually active?"

"No, not since...no."

"That's not a bad thing, in your case. How often do you masturbate?"

"Um, well, rarely. Once a week, maybe, if that. I've been wanting to more often since the, you know, hormones and all, but I haven't."

"I understand if this makes you uncomfortable, and I apologize, but this is important information. Your answer also means that I hope you won't be too terribly put out when I tell you that you should really stop masturbating at all. I can't stop you, of course, but it can aggravate your condition, which we've known to get quite out of hand. Even with as few patients as I get, I've talked to several people who were none too pleased to learn that my advice was to never take their newly boosted sex drives out for a spin. Now, do you have any close family that you support? A spouse, children?"

"...No."

"Alright. If I may ask, what career do you pursue?"

"Oh, I'm a screenwriter, I write for a few holo series and I've done a few feature-length pieces."

"Very good. If you don't mind, I'd like to perform a physical examination. A bit archaic, I know, but I find it useful to see the effects of the condition, and it's quicker than scanning you and creating a replica."

"You, um, you want me to take my clothes off?"

Dr. Ratcliffe looked amused. "Yes, that's usually how physicals work. I understand if you're embarrassed, but believe me, this is entirely professional, and I won't judge."

"It's just that I'm, well, the hormones are, I mean, you're quite attractive."

"Ah. Don't worry, Nicholas, as I said, this is professional, just an examination. I am a doctor, and especially considering my area of expertise, an erection is nothing I haven't seen before. If it helps put you at ease, the attractiveness you noted is related to why I specialize in these conditions. I went through it myself, and wanted to help others have an easier time of it than I did. In other words, I know from experience how you're feeling, and I would never take advantage of it. I simply would like to know how my patient's body looks so that I can accurately track any changes to it."

That explained a lot, and it did help with his nervousness. Most doctors were far more technical, preferring to look at a patient's code rather than their image, but her explanation made sense. He was dealing with a condition that mingled genetic issues with problems in the code, and caused alterations to his real image that would progress over time. He unbuttoned his shirt and draped it neatly over a chair, thinking that he should probably spend more time on exercise. Come to think of it, perhaps not, now that his hormones would likely make for rapid muscle development. Shoes and socks came next, easy enough. He unbuckled his belt and removed his trousers, folding them and placing them on the chair, his boxers doing very little to contain the evidence of his arousal. Blushing furiously, he took those off, too, and laid them with the rest of his clothes. Was he already starting to experience the...genital growth, or was he just very turned on for some reason? It was difficult to say.

Dr. Ratcliffe was indeed very professional, taking her time examining his body in detail but clearly interested in the movement of muscle and bone, the size and shape of his equipment, the particulars of his facial structure, and the like in a purely clinical fashion. "Thank you, Nicholas, you may dress." He tried not to hurry to comply. "You're not showing any particularly strong effects as yet, likely thanks to your admirable restraint when it comes to sexual stimulation. If I didn't know any better, I'd just say you were a healthy man in your prime. It's likely we can manage your condition quite well. That said, your particular set of genetic markers make me concerned about rapid escalation, so I have a proposal for you that is a bit more, shall we say, inclusive than regular monitoring."

"You mean something like a scan I can do myself, or reporting in daily?"

"I mean, Nicholas, that we have a facility for long-term treatment and study that I would like you to move to for an indefinite stay. I think it would be the safest and most effective way to manage your condition, from what you've told me you're an ideal candidate with no particular attachments that would be harmed if you joined us, you wouldn't have to take long trips to see me anymore, and we have in my opinion some of the most talented data surgeons in the world on site to deal with any...complications. Since you would be participating in a technobiological research effort on the express recommendation of a doctor, we would of course provide room and board at no cost."

Move? Like, voluntarily commit himself to a treatment center, indefinitely? He couldn't do that! Could he? Come to think of it, she wasn't wrong. He didn't really have any attachments, not anymore, and he could do his job from anywhere. It would cut back on expenses, and if managing this crazy genetic mix up was his primary concern, he couldn't think of a better option. Honestly, it might be nice to get away, leave a lot of his daily life behind, start over. The more he mulled it over, the more appealing the idea sounded. "Actually, I think I could do that. There's not any good reason not to."

"Excellent! If you'd like, I can set you up with a moving company that we've worked with before; they're based out of Daitoshi, it's an amazing service, you won't have to pack anything beyond a suitcase you can live out of for a couple of days. I'll message you tomorrow with your travel itinerary, and send along the forms you'll need to sign. This may seem sudden, but I can assure you, Nicholas, you've made the right decision."

Sudden was right; Dr. Ratcliffe's entire demeanor had changed, and she seemed to be in a rush. "That sounds great, thank you. I appreciate the help."

"Oh, Nicholas, I should be thanking you. We've needed someone like you at the Institute for a while now, and I can't help but be excited about the possibilities. I'm confident that the research we'll be able to conduct will help not just you, but many others. Now, I have preparations to make, and I'm sure you do as well. I'll see you in two days."

Nicholas was rather stunned on the train ride home. Four days ago, he had just been feeling a little out of sorts. Today, he had agreed to uproot his life in favor of living at a facility where he would be both patient and research subject, for a recurring puberty which the doctor was concerned might involve "rapid escalation". A part of him wished he didn't have to do this alone, wished she hadn't left him. She had always been the decision-maker. On the other hand, if he weren't alone, he couldn't have taken these steps; he could never have left her. Maybe he was finally moving on, handling life on his own. Maybe, just maybe, he had a future, not merely an endless present.

The next morning, he awoke to another erection he tried to ignore, and several messages from Dr. Ratcliffe. She had bought him a flight to...Kansas? Not exactly a hub of activity, but maybe this Institute needed some isolation. He spent some time filling out the various release forms involved in entering a medical trial of indefinite duration, clearing his schedule for the moving company, and informing clients that he'd be unavailable for a few days due to being busy with a move. He thought about sending a message to his friends, letting them know what he was planning, but there wasn't really anyone who needed to know, not anymore. Nicholas decided he'd get settled in, then post on the socials about it, and anyone who cared to notice could find out then. With luck, he'd have an opportunity to make some friends when he got there. Packing a suitcase didn't take long, and he spent the remainder of the day as he usually did, writing and distracting himself. Tomorrow would be far more eventful.

As the movers skillfully packaged up his entire life for the trip to Kansas, Nicholas caught his flight, and then a train, and then a taxi. He and his suitcase were dropped off in front of a surprisingly large compound, or campus, or facility, the right word escaped him. Being in the middle of nowhere surrounded by relatively flat plains did have its advantages, he supposed; the Institute had plenty of space. An inconspicuous sign declared that this was the Ratcliffe Institute for Technobiological Advancement. RITA, not a bad acronym, and the name didn't give away anything about what was studied here, which would further help with privacy. It was time to start a new chapter of his life. The main building was three stories, architecturally unassuming, and would have filled most of a city block if they were anywhere near a city. He walked through the main doors into a soaring atrium, water flowing by winding paths through lush greenery, a relaxing scene that the exterior of the building had entirely concealed. He didn't have time to take in the scenery, though, as Dr. Ratcliffe was there to greet him. She was dressed far more casually than she'd been at her office; the glasses were gone, as was the coat. A black skirt fell to just below her knees, showing off very shapely calves, and her blue top displayed an impressive enough cleavage that his stupid hormones started acting up again.