Child of the Klein Bottle

{15 minutes into the future... }

Somewhere between the homonculous of alchemy, and the banned practice of human cloning, lies the Klein Bottle. I'm not sure of the wisdom in explaining how the process works, or how I came to inherit this knowledge, but for now I will only admit it's existence. It was not something I was eager to make use of though, for reasons that may become clear soon. However, my attitude changed, which leads me to the start of this story.

The idea came to mind at the end of my infatuation with Sarah K. I say 'end of' because, regardless of how I felt about her, she didn't feel that way about me. She was a fellow student, majoring in the computer sciences. I don't think it's easy to say exactly why she caught my attention as she did. She was soft spoken and kept mostly to herself. She was pretty, with a nice figure, if a little on the skinny side, with fair skin and glossy black hair. Behind those glasses of hers though, she had the most entrancing green eyes.

Perhaps she was too shy, or too wrapped up in her studies, but either way I wasn't making much of an impression on her. I suppose any normal or sane man would let the matter drop where it lay. Well, I didn't. In my particular way, I began to wish I could have Sarah all to myself -or, at least at version of her. It was when I found a strand of her glossy hair on her desk after lectures that the decision to use the Klein Bottle was made. I knew the process, but this would be my first real attempt at using this technology (or magic, or whatever one chooses to call it).

The first step was the easiest. Using the school's bio-chem lab, I took that hair to tease out a strand of intact DNA, which I then implanted inside the empty ovum of a mouse. Now, the controversial bit.

Taking out a pre-prepared vial of my own sperm, I added it to the test tube, having separated out a sample of my semen to include only X-chromosome sperm. It's difficult to admit that what I'd set out to create would in part be my own offspring, but while masturbating to provide this supply of sperm, I tried to think only of Sarah. Now, adding in the receptor chemical that would allow the animal egg cell to accept my seed, I stirred the mix and found under the micron microscope the implantation had indeed taken place.

Cleaning up the evidence of my potentially illegal work, I prepared a vial and smuggled my fertilized egg back home.

The Klein Bottle itself could be mistaken for an ordinary glass pitcher, at least at first glance. It was somewhat larger, rounder and more stylized. The real difference only became apparent on closer inspection. In mathematics, a 'klein botte' represents a single sided moebius strip, looping in on itself, forming a vessel that contains zero volume. In effect, the bottle's interior exists in a separate space-time, in isolation from our own. To say any more would be to give too much away.

Arriving at my dorm apartment, I cleared a wide space on my desk. Setting up my valued Klein Bottle, I also placed a portable heater and a few other alchemical items I'll gloss over mentioning. The difficult part involved the creation of the 'water of life', a sort of artificial embryonic fluid, with which I then filled the bottle. Finally, I placed inside the fertilized ovum.

By the time the final step had been completed, it was getting quite late. Before preparing for bed though, I opened up a new notebook and began a journal, which is one of those alchemical traditions I couldn't ignore. With the end of what I'd labelled Day 0, I made one final decision -the name of my new creation. She would be called Sara -'Sara' being a truncated version of 'Sarah', just as Sara herself would be.

* * *

The morning came, and with it the first signs of success. The previously invisible cell had become a vaguely pinkish sphere, almost a centimeter in diameter, floating in the middle of the Klein Bottle. Making a brief notation in my journal, I left for school, curious to see what sort of development would take place when I got back.

It was a little strange seeing Sarah again, but at the same time quite liberating to know I didn't have to worry about 'winning and wooing'; I already had her.

Returning home, I found that things seemed to be progressing quite smoothly. 'Sara' was now about 2 inches in length, curled up as one would expect of a developing fetus, her skin still somewhat translucent. Unlike a fetus though, she was forming with more adult proportions, with delicate slender limbs, and even the fuzz of dark hair appearing on her head.

Magnifying glass in hand, I jotted down all these observations in my journal, getting excited by the prospects of my success. Granted, most of the credit had to go to the un-real space of the Klein Bottle, but with so many variables that could have gone wrong, I felt proud of my efforts. By the end of the day, she'd grown yet another inch at least. At this rate, I knew it wouldn't be more than a couple of days before Sara would be ready to be 'born'.

* * *

On the third, and what would prove to be final day, I awoke to find Sara had grown nearly double in size. A perfect miniature of the real Sarah (if my own genes had made any changes, I couldn't see them), she floated weightless, knees drawn up to her chin, tiny eyes closed. Her hair had grown so that it was shoulder length, and her skin was no longer translucent. I could even make out her fingernails if I looked hard enough. She was such a darling little thing I spent several minutes just watching her before making my journal notations and getting ready for lectures.

* * *

My first bout of carelessness came near the end of the school day. I had run into my good friend Paul, and as we usually did, grabbed a slice of pizza and headed over to my place to check out my new DVDs. We would talk about classes, and he could complain about his mother, with whom he still lived. It was so matter of habit I didn't realize until we were marching up the stairs what a mistake I'd made. The Klein Bottle was left right out on my desk, and there wasn't going to be any easy explanation for what was floating inside it.

"What's the matter," Paul asked, noting my hesitation.

"Erm, no, nothing exactly," I mumbled, preparing myself for the worst. On entering my smallish apartment, it took Paul all of two seconds to discover my secret project.

"What in the hell..."

He leaned in close, peering at Sara. She'd now reached about 10" in overall length, and I realized with a sort of dull panic that I'd have to decant the bottle and extract her from it soon, probably as soon as tonight. Hopefully I could get rid of Paul before then.

"It's not really what it seems," I tried to explain.

"Is it some sort of model?" He rapped a fingernail against the glass. To our mutual surprise, she turned her head to the sound, her eyes now open and aware. "She's alive!"

"Erm, yeah."

He looked over at me with gleeful astonishment.

"But, how? A clone?"

"Sort of," I admitted. "I don't know that it's necessarily illegal, but it's best to keep this under your hat if you could."

"Hmm." He turned to look at her more closely. "She looks vaguely familiar. Did you use someone's genes as base material?"

"Oh, only my own," I lied. "I only switched the XY chromosome to XX. I wanted to see what I'd look like as a female."

"Is that so," he remarked. "Doesn't look much like you."

"No, I suppose not."

I threw a cloth over the bottle, explaining that too much light exposure would be harmful -another lie. Paul did finally leave, though I got the impression his interest in my project hadn't waned, and he would be back before long. Well, I'd have to worry about that another time. I had a potentially long evening ahead of me.

* * *

I spent the midnight hour seated at the desk, scratching at my journal while watching Sara with a keen eye. She was mobile now, to a certain extent. She flexed her limbs, twisted her body, looked through the walls of the glass at the world outside. At about a foot in length, she'd filled out the vessel's interior that I knew it wouldn't be safe to keep her inside much longer. It was time.

Making use of an an empty 2L plastic pop bottle, I began the process of decanting the fluid from within the Klein Bottle, keeping a careful eye on the temperature and colour within. The timing had to be just right for Sara's emergence from unreal Klein space into the real world, and my waiting arms. Hands pressed against the glass, she looked about in alarm as her mini-universe collapsed around her.

"Just hold tight," I said, "not much longer now."

The Klein space suddenly closed shut, and Sara was ejected bodily from the interior onto my desk top in a pool of embryonic fluid. Clutching her sides, the diminutive woman coughed out that same fluid from her lungs, taking her first gasps of proper oxygen. No matter how one comes into this world, the process of birth is never easy.

Once her breathing had returned to normal, I carefully picked her up in both hands, carrying her to the kitchen sink. I was immediately struck by her weight. Perhaps because she was doll-sized, I half expected her to feel just as light, but instead she was very solid. Laying her on the counter, I ran some lukewarm water and soaked a washcloth. Sara squirmed in my grasp as I washed the sticky greenish fluid from her body, trying not to be too rough for fear of bruising her.

"Take it easy," I said to her, "it'll all be over soon."

When I was done, she sat back, her damp naked body still glistening slightly. Her bright green eyes met mine, and for the first time we truly looked at each other. I took a deep sobering breath, now struck full force with the implications of what I'd done. I'd recreated Sarah in living form, and I owned her.

It also meant I was responsible for her -feeding her, attending to her bodily needs, and everything else that went along with keeping a pet of any description. What she thought of me I could have no idea. She looked a little frightened, but curious as well, perhaps aware at some level that I was responsible for bringing her into this world.

"Welcome to my home, Sara," I said, giving her a smile.

Her expression softened, but she didn't make a sound in reply. I knew she must have the capacity for language, but I supposed it wasn't part of the process that she would be speaking right away. Well, no matter. I believe I rather liked the idea of her being mute.

By now it was fairly late, and the amount of effort and concentration it took to decant Sara had taken its toll on me. Excited to finally have her, the last thing I wanted to do was sleep, but I didn't think I had the energy for an all nighter. Besides, it wasn't as if she was going to disappear anywhere, and I could always skip off classes to spend all of tomorrow with her.

Sara began to glance around, taking in her surroundings. I kept the short kitchen counter fairly uncluttered, so there wasn't much for her to key in on, but she seemed intent on exploring. She got up on her knees, then unsteadily rose to her feet, standing erect for the first time. I had to smile. Not only way she showing me the remarkable level of her development, to be able to stand after mere moments of her 'birth', but she was also giving me a great view of her body. I'd been dying to see what Sarah looked like underneath her clothes. I didn't have to wonder anymore.

Sara was skinny, just as Sarah was, with a delicately feminine form. Her shiny black hair was still damp, clinging to her back and shoulders. Her light skin was virtually flawless. She had relatively small breasts (going by proportion), but were wonderfully shaped. They were capped by small dark nipples, the one on the right shaped in an oblong in a charmingly irregular fashion. Between her legs was a small triangle of dark curly pubic hair, just as one would expect of a full grown woman.

Sara became restive under my intense stare, unconsciously covering herself with her hands, as if ashamed now to be so blatantly naked in front of me. "No need to by shy," I told her, reaching out for her.

She made a move as if to run, but I had already enclosed her in my fingers, taking hold of her by the torso. From the way she squirmed, it was easy to see she didn't like being carried like this at all. Her hands pushed against my fingers, proving her strength, and forcing me to bend one of her arms back with my other hand.

This could be a problem. I knew I didn't have any real means to keep her secure at this point. If I'd been thinking ahead, I would have already acquired a bird cage or something similar. It wasn't going to be wise to simply leave her to her own devices or I'd likely never see her again. I also couldn't stay up all night taking care of her either.

"You know, I wanted us to be friends," I explained to her, "but, I think you're going to end up hating me for this."

I took Sara back into the main room, stopping at my dresser. Opening the top drawer, I took out a pair of white socks from the disordered pile. With some minor difficulty, I wrapped her chest with one of the socks, pinning her arms to her sides. I then secured it in place with a safety pin. Laying her on the top of the wooden dresser, I then used the other sock to wrap her legs together around the calves, using another safety pin to keep the clean cotton material in place.

The result was certainly effective. Her limbs basically immobilized, she was reduced to squirming uncomfortably, her head tossing from side to side. It was more than a little pathetic, but I hoped I would only need to do this for one night. Tomorrow, I would try and come up with better accommodations for her.

I noticed that, where her chest and legs were mostly covered, I had left her waist and hips bare; in particular, that alluring patch of pubic hair between her legs. I turned her over onto her stomach, so I could see her wonderfully rounded bare ass as well. It never occurred to me until this moment what a completely kinky bondage game I'd come up with, and how vulnerable Sara now was to anything I might want to do.

But, at least right now, I was too tired to do very much at all. Perhaps that was for the best, given the way my mind was turning as I looked at her. Instead, I found an empty shoe box in the corner of my closet, and lined it with a hand towel before putting Sara inside. I didn't put the lid on, since I figured she wouldn't be able to get out in her current state anyway, and I feared it would get too stuffy and awful closed in like that.

I put the box at the foot of my bed then stripped down for sleep. I have a feeling I must have dropped off to sleep very quickly, but all of my dreams were consumed with Sarah -and Sara.

* * *

When I awoke the next morning, my first move was to check on my miniature charge.

She was fast asleep, and I have to assume she spent a great deal of the night struggling with her current situation. But, the bonds I had fashioned for her had remained firm, limiting her movement and keeping her within the box.

I'm sorry I ended up using a shoe box as I did. I simply didn't give her any room to stretch at all, and it was no surprise to see her curled up in a fetal ball. Looking at her laying there, I became aware of a subtle odor. It wasn't strong, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. Bending my face closer I finally recognized it; urine. Unable to do anything else, the poor girl had wet herself, perhaps while she slept.

"Have to think ahead," I muttered to myself, leaving her to nap just a little while longer while I went to my desk and made a number of notations in my journal. Then I went to the kitchen and prepared Sara's bath; filling the sink with pleasantly warm water, laying out a fresh bar of soap and wash cloth.

I rarely second guess myself, but in this case, I knew I was being somewhat conflicted in my motives. By now even this must be clear to those reading this essay. I created Sara as a way of dealing with my frustrated desire for Sarah. But, I would never, and could never have the same relationship with one as the other. Sara was not a person, nor a pet. My instincts were telling me to take care of her with as much attentiveness as a pet or child. But, I made her, and she was mine to do with as I wished regardless of moral imperative. Standing there at the sink, I realized I could bring her in and hold her under the water until she drowned, and I would be responsible to no authority for that act.

It was a thought that caused me to pause. I began this project by playing fast and loose with morality in the first place. How far was I willing to let myself go? Just how dark was my uninhibited side if left to it's own devices?

I returned to the bedside, kneeling down to inspect the still sleeping Sara.

"Alright, let's get your day started," I said softly, unpinning the socks that kept her held tight. In the process, she came awake, sitting up in alarm as I freed her legs. "No need to panic. What say we get you cleaned up?"

Not waiting for an answer, I took her up in both hands and carried her to the waiting sink. During all this, she looked about in a kind of helpless panic, her head nervously tossing from side to side. A could also feel the slight dampness that covered parts of her thighs. She didn't struggle as much as she had before, not even when I finally placed her into the warm water of the nearly full sink. Her feet made squeaking sounds against the clean stainless steel as she turned, arms wrapped protectively around her torso. The water came up to her slender, well defined waist.

"Come on, all the way in," I said, pushing her back so that she lost her footing and ended up taking a good dunking. As she sputtered to catch her breath, wiping her wet hair away from her face, I grabbed the bar of soap and wash cloth and began the lathering process. I held her firmly in place with one hand, back facing me while I passed the soapy cloth over and around her arms and chest. At first, it was in a completely matter-of-fact fashion, rinsing the cloth and adding more soap as I worked her lower limbs, cleaning away the last traces of urine and sweat. It was only when I moved to the area between her legs that she made a fresh attempt at escape, letting out a squeal, her thighs clenching together.

I turned her onto her back, holding her more firmly across the torso while her legs dangled into the water. I stared at the patch of dark hair at her pubis, and realized this was what I'd really been waiting for. Resigned to the fact I'd never glimpse or feel the private places of the real life Sarah, I had remade her in this more fragile form -and now her secrets would be revealed.

"Just relax," I told her, taking her ankle between the fingers of my free hand and lifting her right leg upwards. Sara made an agonized face, straining against my efforts. Her soapy wet body threatened to slip from my grasp.

"Enough of that," I admonished, tilting her back so that her head was forced under the surface. She was in near panic, but there wasn't much she could do, and she quickly realized I was serious and that she'd better relax if she wanted to breathe again. I didn't intend to be cruel beyond reason, and I lifted her back up so she could catch her breath. Coughing and sputtering, her little body heaved in my hand, taking in large gasps of oxygen. I gently wiped her wet hair away from her face before resuming my inspection of her below the waist.

I wasn't a complete stranger to the mysteries of the female genitals, or a virgin for that matter, but there is always a rush of excitement when one sees the private regions of your lover for the first time. I had been lusting for Sarah for so long, this represented a great triumph. Sara let me lift her leg clear, offering me a view of the long sought after cunt, dark coloured labial lips barely hidden beneath her patch of pubic hair. Wetting my lips, I stared for a time, resettling my grip so she lay flat on my palm, her pubis tilted further upwards. Holding her right thigh, I gently used my thumb to part her cuntal lips, exposing the pink shaded interior. Every detail perfectly reproduced.