In the future, you can have what you want, including the body of your choice.
It's Great Being Sweet Sixteen!
Tomorrow is my Sweet Sixteen! The first day of the rest of my life!
Being sixteen is like, so kewl. I get to do things with my boyfriend. If I was fourteen, people would look at us weird. I mean, I'd still be cute and everything, but they would look at him like he's a pervert or something.
At sixteen, I'm still real cute, but I'm old enough for all that fun stuff. He's like twenty, so he's an expert. He knows how to make me scream.
He says that he's too cool, but I know how to make him scream too.
If I was, like, eighteen, people would expect me to adult. But I don't want to adult. It's way too fun to just be sixteen.
My boyfriend calls me a snowflake. That used to be an insult back in the days when people actually had to work to make a living.
Now, we just tell the Santa Clause machine what we want, and we get it. If it can't make it, it sends out for it. The only thing we can't get is things with lots of gold and stuff because that still costs money. My boyfriend says that's gonna change soon because they're figuring out how to get gold out of the sea.
I'm glad some people like to adult. It would be terrible if we didn't have at least a few people who like to adult. If there wasn't, nobody would be inventing new things and the world would stop getting better and better. It would still be good forever and ever, but I like it to get better each year.
It would be awful if some people liked to adult, but there was no way to adult. But those that want to can adult, and those who don't want to don't have to.
And I don't like to adult. So I don't. And everybody is happy.
I went to the mall with my girlfriends today to kinda do some birthday shopping for myself. The mall is like it always was, except you used to have to pay money for the stuff you bought. Now you just go there and grab what you want and the robots will carry them home for you. There are some people there to help you, too. They do it for fun, kinda like people used to play Farmville and Cafe World and stuff like that on Facebook just for fun.
A few times, I dressed up and played waitress at some of the restaurants. One time, I wore a bunny suit. Another time, I wore a French maid costume. And mini skirts with halter tops are always fun!
I love being a sixteen year old girl! I can wear all that cute stuff and it looks cute and sexy, but not slutty. If a twenty something wears that stuff, it looks slutty, and like they're trying to get back their lost youth.
My apartment is getting ready for the party tomorrow. The housebots threw all of the furniture and stuff into the recycler, and they are getting party furniture out of the Santa Clause machine and also putting up decorations.
My boyfriend and me, we were making plans last month. We had to figure out who to invite to my party, and we had to design the decorations and figure out my look.
I have to look just right for my Sweet Sixteen, you know?
I went over to my closet and took out my party dress. I held it up to me, but didn't put it on. I'm not allowed to put it on till tomorrow, when I'm getting ready for my Sweet Sixteen party.
The Santa Clause machine took some time to make my dress. It's gorgeous! It's all made out of neosilk and doesn't have seams and it's spun all in one peace.
My boyfriend told me all about how they make neosilk, but I don't know how all that stuff works.
Actually, I do, but I kinda like to pretend I don't.
Neosilk is made out of the stuff that real silkworms make real silk out of, but the fibers are way finer than real silkworms make. They are way stronger and stretch just exactly now much and how strong you want them to stretch because they have diamond nanothreads woven inside each fiber.
So my dress has diamonds in it!
Not really, but it's kewl to think so.
My dress also has little micromachines inside to keep me clean, no matter how much I sweat when I'm dancing at my party. I could run a marathon and put it on, and it would clean me better than the best shower.
And I could totally run a marathon in this body, but I don't. It doesn't sound like much fun to run a marathon.
I hung up my dress and ordered dinner from my Santa Clause machine.
The Santa Clause machine food is kewl because it's like having snack foods and pop for dinner every day and not feel guilty. It makes whatever I want, but it makes sure that it has all the perfect nutrition that my body needs in it.
My mom likes food that's grown from real plants and cut from real animals.
Yuck!
I like berries and stuff like that, but I don't want to eat any dead animal! I would rather eat the stuff that the machine makes for me. Like neobacon and neoburgers.
But I ordered lots of stuff from the community hydroponic gardens for the party. No dead animal, but I got lots of nuts and berries. And broccoli and cauliflower and baby carrot sticks and mushrooms for the old folks that like stuff like that.
It was looking like the housebots were getting finished with the party decorations. I checked the instructions we wrote up for the housebots to make sure everything was ready, then went to bed.
I laid down on the autodoc and let the cover go down over me. I fell asleep right away.
I woke up when the cover of the autodoc lifted. I yawned and stretched and got up. Even though the autodoc made sure that I was even cleaner than a shower gets me, I went to the bathroom and crawled into the tub that was already waiting for me with lots of sweet smelling bubbles.
I soaked until I was almost pruned, then I got up and rinsed off and dried off with a big, fluffy towel. I sat down under the hairdo machine and let it do up my hair just like my boyfriend and me designed.
Then I looked at my bare naked self in the mirror. My new body was just like my boyfriend and me designed. I just keep getting cuter every time.
This is my fiftieth Sweet Sixteen. I still remember the night before my first Sweet Sixteen when I crawled into the autodoc as an eighty-seven year old man.
This is a sequel to It's Great Being Sweet Sixteen!
It's almost time for sweet sixteen again! This is number fifty-one!
My friends were telling me that it's really number fifty-two because I turned sixteen for the first time way before the turn of the millennium. I might have turned sixteen way back then, but it wasn't sweet!
Mom tells me that I wasn't ugly, but nobody else told me that. I sure didn't feel pretty! And the people in school were so mean to me.
And I was busy adulting back then. My useless sperm donor left Mom taking care of all us kids and I was the oldest so I had to do my part. I was busy busing tables when I turned sixteen. What a way to spend your birthday! I got hardly any money and no tips. And I had to give it all to Mom so she could take care of my little brothers and sisters. And Mom couldn't afford to get me any presents and she didn't even have time to make something.
All those television shows had the high school kids partying and making out and going to dances and going to spring break and having so much fun. But I was stuck working to support my little brothers and sisters, and babysitting them so that Mom could work without paying for daycare.
When I graduated, I didn't get to go to college because there was no money and I still had to take care of my little brothers and sisters.
But Mom taught me to work hard and be polite so that the boss would like me and give me more money. And that worked sometimes, but when I got laid off, I had to start all over again at another job.
Those people that got to go to college had a piece of paper that told their new bosses that they were smart and stuff, so they got to start out with more money. Me? I had to prove myself every time. And then the college kids complained when I got promoted because they had a degree and I didn't and why should I be promoted when they were smarter?
But I worked hard and took some classes at night. But that stopped when my spouse left me holding the bag and taking care of the kids all by myself.
I thought we were supposed to stay together forever, but asshole disappeared one day never to be seen or heard from again.
So anyway, when all the kids finally got old enough to adult for themselves I felt like I was too old to go to college and I didn't have money anyway because I spent it all on the kids and putting a roof over our heads and food in our mouths.
The kids went off their own way and struggled their own struggles. We kinda kept in touch, but we were all doing our own adulting and didn't really have time to get together much.
I didn't spend my money willy-nilly when the kids left. I kept driving a cheap car and kept eating cheap food until I could afford the down payment on a tiny postage stamp of land. I put a tiny house on that land. It was small, but it was home, and it was mine. At least, it was mine when I got it paid off. And I lived cheaply so that I could get it paid off as fast as possible.
And somewhere in there, while I was paying it off, the Internet came. And Facebook. And Second Life.
In Second Life, I could be anyone I wanted. I could be young and pretty. I could live in a lavish beach house on the ocean and bask on the beach in my bikini and date handsome men.
Even with just a keyboard and mouse and monitor, I could really get into it. My imagination supplied the rest.
When I got my first pair of VR goggles, it was almost like being there. I could talk with my normal voice and a cute sexy teenage voice would come out.
VR headsets led to VR body suits that could make you feel what your avatar feels all over your body.
By that time, I was getting older, but I still felt young and strong in my VR headset and body suit. Most of my internal organs were bio-printed replacements and my skin was wrinkly, but my boyfriend and I were still young people cavorting on the beach.
When I retired, my pension was plenty enough to supply my small needs. The house was paid off, the car was barely used, the groceries were delivered by drone, and the Internet was free. I had to buy computer stuff once in a while, but that was getting cheaper and cheaper.
I knew that some people were connecting to the Internet with direct neural connections to their brains, but I was too chicken to try. Nobody ever got hurt, and nobody ever got trapped in the Matrix, but I never went to the clinic and had the connections put in.
We purposely kept our real life identities separate from our Second Life identities. We wanted to forget RL when we were being young and attractive and active.
But I wasn't spending every minute on Second Life. There was a charity nearby that built Santa Claus machines and used them to help the poor.
They revamped old shut-down restaurants and installed the kind of Santa Claus machines that made food.
There were different kinds of machines that made different things back then. And they didn't have any machines that could make a new Santa Claus machine from scratch. They were working on it, but they didn't have it yet.
But we would refurbish old restaurants or build new ones and make them run without much help from people. No employees. Only volunteers. And the customers didn't have to pay anything. Donations were accepted and used to make more machines and revamp more restaurants, but people could eat for free.
We put them into poor places. We put them where there used to be soup kitchens.
And other people made little shelters kinda like camp trailers and left them all over the place.
At first, people fought over them. Some cities tried to outlaw them, but the people complained and they couldn't hire enough police to do anything about it, anyway.
The little houses were simple enough that they could be made entirely with a Santa Claus machine. They even had their own power and plumbing and water filtering and stuff. And Internet computers.
And they kept building them and kept putting them out there until there were so many that everyone could have one and not have to share, and there were still empty ones.
And they built robots that would fix the wrecked and abandoned and empty ones. And the robots would put the new and improved Santa Claus machines and stuff into the shelters.
So while I was helping people feed everyone that lost their jobs because machines could do their jobs for them, other people were making houses and putting them on land that was abandoned by companies that used to make things that the Santa Claus machines made now.
And they were talking about making autodocs. People out in the country were designing them and testing them on farm animals.
So one day, this guy drives up with a big old van. He came and knocked on my door. It was my boyfriend! No, I mean it was really my boyfriend just like he looked in Second Life! I wanted to hide so he couldn't see what I really looked like in RL.
But he hugged me and took me out to his van and showed me the autodoc. It wasn't just a rumor! They actually built them! And my boyfriend was making them when I was helping feed the people!
He showed me the new me that the autodoc printed up. It looked just like the second life me!
So, when I turned eighty-six, I actually turned sixteen again. It was my first sweet sixteen!
This installment is dedicated to Princess Laika Pupkino.
So I woke up slowly... 'cause I like it that way. The seagulls were singing and the surf was crashing and the crabs were casting long shadows as they scurried in the early dawn light.
I sat up in my bed and let the satin weave neosilk sheets drop off me so that I could enjoy the warm scented ocean breeze.
Yesterday, I woke up in a princess style canopy bed. The morning before, I awoke on a soft knoll in an enchanted forest with tiny fairies and pixies flying around, and rabbits and foxes cavorting in the clearing.
Sometimes I decide how I want to wake up, and sometimes I let the computer surprise me.
I got up and walked, nude, to my bathroom. My morning bubble bath was waiting for me. The ocean illusion faded after I entered the bathroom.
As illusions go, it was complete. Not a holograph, exactly, but the effect was the same. That, combined with the sound, smells, and breeze, made me almost believe that I was there. Only the lack of gritty sand and biting insects told me that I wasn't really on the beach.
According to my internal heads-up display, I had about five hours before the start of school.
I have one of those heads-up displays that acts like I'm looking at it with a separate eye. It takes longer to learn to use, but it's worth it because it doesn't get in the way of my regular vision.
Besides, I have plenty of time to learn. I have plenty of time for everything. Always and forever.
After my bath, I gazed upon my teenage pulchritude in the full length mirror.
My earlier life was hard, so now I make sure that I count my blessings. Part of counting my blessings is looking in the mirror every morning because I never used to like what I saw in the mirror before.
Since I still had a few hours before I had to be to school, I decided to visit the Matrix.
Did you know that a lot of our common words come from science fiction movies and books?
The Matrix was a movie where everyone was trapped in a computerized virtual world. Autodocs are from Larry Niven's Known Space series. Uterine Replicators are from Lois McMaster Bujold's Barrayar series of books. The Alcubierre faster-than-light drive that some of our scientists and engineers are trying to make work is often called a warp drive because of a the wildly successful Star Trek television series and movies. And it totally works by warping space, so it's a warp drive. The various attempts at making the EM drive work are often dubbed "reactionless thrusters" in honor of Larry Niven and his Known Space series. The concept of a thermonuclear rocket, or "torch drive," is a staple of science fiction that goes back to the mid twentieth century. The portable power supplies that have done so much to bring us this age of freedom and plenty are often called "Mister Fusion" because of the "Back to the Future" series of movies.
So anyhow, I laid down on the couch and entered the Matrix.
I entered my anteroom and looked at the various worlds I could enter, along with the avatars that I have chosen for each one.
I have half a dozen avatars for Second Life. After all, I have been a citizen of that world since forever, or so it seems. I started in the old days when it was just something put on a video screen by some software developed by Linden Labs.
But I have good memories. Even when I was stuck in my old ugly body, I could be beautiful and energetic. I have hundreds of friends and even some more-than-friends in Second Life. I met my RL boyfriend in Second Life.
But there are other universes that I can enter when I feel like it. There are sword-and-sorcery fantasy worlds, galactic civilizations, steampunk, cyberpunk, and even anime and comic book universes. If someone wrote a popular book, or even a not so popular book, someone probably made a universe out of it. All the web comics I used to love have their own worlds.
There are lots of historical worlds. Want to be a fifties housewife or a middle ages king? Want to be a robber-baron? A mafia boss? There's a world for you. Some are historically accurate, and some aren't.
You can make your own fantasy worlds. Want to be a fairy princess? I decided to try it, just to see what it is like. Most of my loyal subjects are non player characters. If I was really wanting to rule real people and not NPCs, I would have to find a way to attract real people that want to be my loyal subjects. That's really important to some people, but I hardly go to my princess universe.
And then there are the gaming worlds. Some are direct descendants of games that came out around the turn of the millennium, like Doom and Duke Nukem and World of Warcraft.
What's funny is that a lot of the games have a scarcity based economy. I mean, here we are in the real world where everybody has all the food and shelter and gadgets and health care that they can want and need, and everybody gets to wear whatever body they want, and we play games with scarcity based economies.
But that's good for people like me because I can earn game money and people buy that game money from me with other game money or bitcoins or dollars or whatever.
I started making custom avatars and fashion clothes in second life way before the singularity.
Did you know that people used to think that the singularity was something in the future where the robots would take over the world? Really!
Well, there were some science fiction stories where the singularity was where we would learn how to live forever.
Technically, there were two singularities. There was the first one where Santa Claus machines could make other Santa Claus machines, so that everyone could have everything they wanted. The post scarcity era. The age of plenty. The new golden age.
And then, when bio printing led to the autodocs so that we could live forever in any body we want, that was the second singularity.
And all the worry about artificial intelligence taking over the world? Well, nobody managed to come up with a computer that is really self aware, though the NPC programs are pretty good at making it look that way. Still, it doesn't take most people long to see the difference.
And with all our built-in HUDs and stuff, it's almost like we're as smart as the AIs that everyone was afraid of. I mean, everything we do is recorded, so we never have to forget anything. And we have the power of a super computer in our heads. And all that power is just a thought away. I use it all the time when I'm designing clothes and the bodies that wear them in second life. I have been using it for a long time, so it's really kinda like a part of me. I used to be so forgetful. A mind like a steel sieve, I used to say. Now, it's like I'm a super genius.
And I love it.
But I usually don't flaunt it. It's enough that I appreciate it. I don't have to impress anyone.
I decided to check up on my clothing business, so I chose my Lady Penelope Westfield avatar. Penelope (NOT Penny!) is the businesswoman that takes care of my store. She looks like an elegant thirty-something and oozes confidence and competence. Having been around for much more than a century, I can project that very well indeed.
Instantly, I was teleported into my store. A quick peek at my HUD showed that my latest set of fashions, both bodies and clothes, have been selling very well indeed.
A few of my sales people are real people, but most are NPCs. I do this because most people would rather play than make money, and because NPCs work for free. Still, anyone who wants to sell stuff for me is welcome to try earning a few Linden Dollars in commissions.
It's ironic that, after struggling so much in the first part of my life just to make enough money to have food and shelter, I'm now pretty rich. Not Trump level rich, but definitely rich enough to be very comfortable even if I still had to buy my food and stuff.
Back when all of the factories and office buildings and stuff became useless, and the big players didn't need that land anymore, people started using recycler bots to tear down the old useless buildings and clean up all of the pollution and junk that soaked in the soil. They built giant beehives of apartments underground, but they all looked like the best wide open habitats that would be in the best hotels or on the space stations you would see in movies. They are all open air and full of plants and ponds and swimming pools so that anyone that wants can live in a huge apartment and go out to the park that looks like it's open air, but is really underground. There are no mosquitoes underground.
And above ground, they planted trees and stuff. All of the factory districts and warehouse districts and concrete urban jungles got turned into real forests and meadows and parklands. This is partly because the people that designed them wanted it that way, and partly because the original owners and the government gave the land away with the promise that it would mostly become parkland and wilderness.
But anyway, since land was cheap, I bought a hundred and sixty acres for my mom. A quarter of a square mile. A square, half a mile on a side. A lovely piece of land with a river running through it, and with clear ponds fed and renewed by that river.
My mom worked so hard raising us, and she even helped babysit my kids so that I could go to work and school and stuff.
And she always dreamed of having her own land and living off the grid and growing her own food.
And she totally does that now. The land is still wild, but underground, she grows just about every kind of food plant she can find. And chickens and goats and stuff. She even has horses so that she can ride around her property and the national forest around it.
I walked around my virtual store -- the only one there. Of course, there were dozens of people looking at my wares, but they were all invisible to each other unless they wanted to see each other. Lots of people like to go shopping with friends.
I looked around, kind of letting my mind drift so that I could get new ideas. I also noted what sold and what didn't.
The Barbies and Kens were always good sellers. While the exaggeratedly tall and shapely Barbie girls and the matching Kens always drew criticism for giving kids unreasonable expectations and poor body images, it's telling that so many people chose those archetypes as soon as they were able. The Hots, caricatures of the old supermodels that they are, also sell well. As do the GI Joes. A lot of the guys like the no nonsense look of a body that is competent without being ostentatious or exaggerated.
Not that I don't have male customers who go for the exaggerated musculature of the Arnies.
They like to affect the Austrian accent of their hero Arnold Schwarzenegger, even as they take on exaggerated proportions that would never be possible in real life without steroids or bioprinting -- proportions that the real Arnold never achieved and, in fact, proportions that he doesn't currently wear.
But I can't sneer about affectations. I like to affect a vapid teen-age girl, like, you know, because it's so kewl.
The Buffs and Jocks, looking like the old fitness models, both male and female, remain steady sellers. Pure healthy look without any exaggerated proportions.
And then, there are the Nextdoors -- men and women with 'every day beauty.' People who aren't actually plain, but aren't pretentious, either. Perfectly symmetric and wearing flawless skin, but not overdone.
I have a modest selection of Beanpoles and Reubens. Some people like being long and gangly -- just like the old saying that you can never be too rich or too skinny. And certainly, if one wants to be anorexic, it's actually safe to go to that extent nowadays. And the whole problem with dry and leathery skin is no more.
And the lovely and lush Reubens! Classic beauty from centuries past! "A lovely 'unk of cuddle," as they say. Plush, comfy, and cuddly, just like the artist Sir Peter Paul Rubens envisioned them.
I don't do Gargoyles or Clinkers because my store is all about being attractive. Those who want to be grotesque or want to look like robots or battle droids can easily go elsewhere.
But I definitely do the various fantasy creatures -- Elves, Pixies, Fairies, Halflings, and even things like centaurs and pegataurs. But I don't do ugly. No trolls or gnomes.
And Furries! I love furries! And the various Anime types.
I have everything from the traditional Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse types to the happy bouncy cartoon critters to the sexy cats and dogs and skunks and kitty girls and kitsunes that have captured the imagination of people for decades. I even have dragon people and mermaids. They lack fur, but are still part of furry fandom.
Furry fandom was big in the late twentieth century and beyond, but it really came into its own once bio printing and virtual reality made it possible to really play the part.
And then there are those who want to capture their lost childhood, or the childhood that might have been. I have gangly naughty Pippy Longstocking type girls, boys with straw hats, stick fishing poles, and frogs in their pockets, girls with cornflower blue eyes and dresses and baskets full of eggs, little boys in shorts and fancy clothes ready to attend their parents' upper crust functions, little girls in yellow sundresses with fistfuls of dandelions, and lots of others. What I don't offer is lolitas.
Let me rephrase that. I offer lolita in that I offer sweet lolita, gothic lolita, and similar fashions, along with the appropriate bodies. What I don't offer is the under aged 'jailbait' type bodies that you might find in the old banned child pornography.
So, Alice in Wonderland? Yes. Naughty junior high school cheerleaders? Girl scouts gone wild? Nope.
While I have no problem with consenting adults role playing in any way they like, they can get their overly sexualized lola bodies elsewhere. They simply don't fit with the image that I am trying to project.
My HUD told me that someone was browsing my selection of kitty girls and wanted some assistance. I instantly 'ported there. "Can I help you?"
"Yes. Ummm... My daughter is looking for a kitty girl body."
"A lot of the bodies I design are free, and are licensed so that you can modify them. Does she have something in mind? Does she want custom modifications?"
She looked thoughtful. "Why don't I bring her here?"
I smiled. "Perhaps she would like someone younger to help her. While you get her, I'll get my daughter. She's my kitty girl specialist."
I 'ported to my anteroom, switched to a kitty girl version of my bubbly sweet sixteen persona, and 'ported back to the furry section of my store.
"Hiiiiya! I understand you're ready to join the kitty side! Nyah! I'm Catalina!"
"I'm..." she paused just a bit. "Catrina! You can call me 'Cat.'"
"Hi Cat!" I gave her a hug.
"Sooooo... Your mom says that you're looking for a kitty girl body. Most of the stuff mom makes is free, and you can modify it if you want. How much of a kitty do you want to be? I'm wearing my quarter form."
"Quarter form?" she asked.
"See? Kitty ears. Adorable kitty tail!" I waved my tail and floofed her nose. "And slitted kitty eyes if you want."
I shifted. "The half form has whiskers and a kitty mouth and digitigrade feet and fur from the knee down and fur from the elbows out and retractable claws and any kind of kitty markings you want all over your body!"
I shifted again. "Three quarter form is furry all over with a kitty face. Really, just a bipedal kitty. Full form is a fully quadrupedal kitty."
"Like, oh wow! Can I shift, too?"
"Of course! And you can even shift in RL! You would have to have a cyborg body, though. Or you can do like me and make remote cyber bodies and connect to them through the Matrix."
"Like, kewl!" she said. "The girls at school will be soooooo jealous!"
So we put our heads together and designed her new body set. She kept her regular teenage face on her quarter and half forms. She liked my lavender and indigo colors, but decided to go with tiger stripes instead of indigo rosettes on a lavender body that I have.
She tried the body out right away in Second Life, and promised to call me if she wanted any changes. She wanted to play around for a few hours, and told me that she would call me when she was ready for me to transfer the design to bioprinter and cyborg plans.
If I had to live on the money I made, then the small chunk of change that the hour or so netted me wouldn't have been enough.
But I had fun. And the good will of giving so much for so little money helps make other sales that happen when I'm not there playing an active role. And I don't need money to live. I don't have expenses. I can let it accumulate as quickly or slowly as I like. Life is for living and growing, not busting my tail for things that, when we really get down to it, don't really add to my life all that much.
I switched back to my Lady Penelope Westfield body and checked out other people's boutiques.
Laika's fantasy emporium is one of my favorites. She has mermaids, elves, mermaids, pixies, mermaids, imps, and all kinds of other mythical critters. And did I mentions the mermaids? And an octopus in a French maid outfit. And a dolphin wearing a scuba tank. And some Lovecraftian tentacled horror looking thing with a really friendly teenage voice. And some really tall sloe-eyed girls with knobby-ended antennas on their heads and fluffy white shag haircuts that look like they would be at home on the moon or Alpha Centauri 3 or somewhere like that.
I suspect that she makes most of her money with her various worlds, since they all have a scarcity based economy. The most popular is called "The Deep End." It has fairies and stuff on land, but the regular human NPCs officially don't know a thing about them.
The most popular part is the underwater world. Did I mention that there are lots of mermaids?
Off in the corner, I found some of her more whimsical creations.
One of her most famous is something that she created on a lark. The body is your standard blond sexpot with enormous breasts and enough curves to make Barbie look like an emaciated stick. Her hair color, prior to bio printing and the like, would have had to come from a bottle. Bleach, that is. With black roots.
And she is covered with a single piece skin tight rubber fetish suit that leaves nothing to the imagination. Said suit has built-in fingerless gloves and stiletto heels.
Not a black latex suit. A red latex suit.
This exhibit was labeled, "Goodyear Thing."
This prompted some to dub her 'Laika Latex,' though generally not to her face. To her face, she is usually called 'Princess Laika."
I saw another exhibit labeled "Too Much of a Goodyear Thing."
Same body. Same exaggerated proportions. Rubber from neck to feet, showing not a bit of real skin. Thick coarse pasty white makeup coving her entire head except for her hair, which has punkish pink tint. Neon cosmetics painted thickly upon her face, giving her a retro futuristically trampy look -- like a whore from the old Blade Runner movie.
A closer examination revealed that her entire body was made of red rubber, and the eyes were actually painted on.
Weird.
Well, Laika is known for her bizarre sense of humor.
As I was shaking my head, she appeared, wearing a dress that one might expect to see on a Disney princess.
"Of all of the worlds and characters I have created, every one remembers me for the Goodyear Thing. Write one story just to be over the top, and you're marked for life!"
I gave a ladylike chuckle. "I guess 'over the top' is a good description."
She shook her head, then snickered. "But where are my manners? Would you like some tea, Lady P?"
"Yes, thank you."
A liveried butler appeared with a finely crafted bone china tea set, bowed, and served us.
The tea was excellent. The neural connections make for some really realistic tastes and sensations. And no calores -- not that I have had to worry about that in the past half century or more.
We chatted about some of our favorite worlds, and some of our less favorite worlds.
Somehow, we got on the subject of the older science fiction universes. A lot of people enjoy the old Edger Rice Burroughs stories of Mars, and other such fiction. We just have to kinda forgive the misogyny that was the simple reality of the time that they were written.
Still, how much of an excuse is that? Heinlein wrote stories in the same era. The mother on his Rolling Stones book was a doctor, and none of his characters were misogynistic.
But going way too far in the other direction was the whole Gor series, where sexual slavery was the way the world worked, and women were generally nothing but property. We both had to wonder about the people who read them avidly. Did they have fantasies of owning sex slaves?
We both decided that we detest the Gor universe, the Middle Eastern attitude that women are property and only useful for pleasure or procreation or to serve men, and other cultures that seek to subjugate women.
I told Laika, "I decided to check out one of the Gor worlds once. As soon as I appeared, some idiot claimed me as his personal slave. Didn't ask or challenge. Just claimed me. I couldn't do a thing. I couldn't release the avatar. I couldn't message anyone. I was stuck. I finally disconnected from the Internet. As far as I know, the virtual body is still there as his slave, controlled as an NPC."
Laika shook her head. "Most people who want the Gorean experience either go as men or expect to be slaves."
I shuddered. "No way! I put on a male virtual body several years ago. One of my friends challenged me to spend a few hours every day for a week. By the third day, I cried every time I had to be male. It was horrible! I couldn't wait for the week to be over."
She looked sympathetic. "I can't say that I like it either, but I can tolerate it if necessary. I know some people that like to flip back and forth on a whim."
I shook my head. "I know that I have a particularly bad reaction. I guess I'm just that strongly female."
We chatted for a while, then she said goodbye and went to check on her universes and how things were going.
I was about to go back to my anteroom when another woman appeared. She was built kind of like a Barbie, but more mature and sleek. She wore a leather dress and bodice -- sexy, but not at all trampy or trashy. Her air of quiet authority was enhanced by the riding crop that she carried. She puffed on a cigarette in a holder. Fortunately, I have my sensory input set to ignore unpleasant odors.
"I see that you are fascinated by the Goodyear Thing. You look like an excellent sub. Submit to me. I can make it worth your while."
"Not a chance," I said.
"Your mouth says 'no,' but I can tell that you are fascinated. I know that you are wondering what it would be like to be decked out in that sexy outfit. You ache for the sting of my whip."
I scowled, but she didn't see it because she turned around, pointedly ignoring me. She called out, "Oh, Minion! A flute of bubbly. On the double!"
Soon, a um... person in a rubber sissy maid costume came out on all fours. A serving platter was balanced on his back. Her back. Whatever. She had a ball gag in her mouth and a feather duster protruding from her posterior like some kind of a bird's tail.
"I hear and obey, mistress," she slurred around her gag.
The dom nodded imperiously. "Well done, minion." She took a glass and sipped it. The umm... servant crawled back on all fours.
She turned back to me. "Grovel, slave!"
I just looked at her with disdain and walked away.
I don't understand the whole sub thing. I can't see wanting to be dominated and humiliated.
I shook my head and went back to my anteroom. I put on my Regina Dolby persona and went to my laboratory.
I don't know who to blame it on this time, but I couldn't resist doing a 'Staycation' story. So I decided to whip this little ditty out when I should have been sleeping.
This story takes place in my Sweet Sixteen universe.
It all happened when my family went to the annual Blessed Temple training camp.
I was supposed to go, too, but I didn't qualify. I hadn't properly memorized the long manifesto of the Blessed Temple religion, and they saw in me signs that I was couldn't be trusted to fully swallow their doctrine without question, which means that I might gain dangerous knowledge that would end with me going to Hell.
Do I sound a bit bitter? Actually, I'm ecstatic that I couldn't go. I'm still not sure what kind of indoctrination... I mean training that they receive, and I'm perfectly happy to not find out. I can guess well enough.
What is the Church of the Blessed Temple all about?
I'm not surprised that you never heard of us, I mean them.
You see, when the Santa Claus machines started coming out, there was a lot of fear that people would lose their work ethic. God told us that we are to live by the sweat of our brow. Actually, he said that to Adam and Eve, but most legalists fully believe that that applies to every one of their descendants.
But the big issue is the Autodoc that blesses us all with an unlimited life span -- not the "three score and ten" that they like to quote.
Why Temple?
Because our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit, that's why. Far be it for us to modify it. Far be it for us to improve it. In fact, in the faction of that movement that I had the misfortune to be born into, far be it for us to interfere with God's will should we be stricken with some disease or injury. If God wants us to live, he will supply a miracle.
I'm serious.
I found out later that there are less strict congregations. There are even congregations where a full body rebuild is acceptable, as long as there are no modifications.
Even those congregations would be too strict for me.
So, the compound was almost empty; only being inhabited by the mothers of young children, the elders, and others who needed to miss out on the indoctrination, I mean training camp.
Anyhow, I already knew how we were the chosen few; those few who have held to The Law and not been contaminated by the outside world. We were the few who are not apostate; who will not go to Hell for debasing the temple of the Holy Spirit.
So I was doing my standard lessons using my computer terminal when I saw an icon that I had never seen before.
It seems that there is a much bigger world out there, and that everyone in the world has the right to access the entirety of the World Wide Web.
Of course, you all know that the world governments have pretty much been pared down to mere shadows of their former strength and authority. After all, how can you hire people to enforce laws when, strictly speaking, people don't need money to survive and live quite well? Just go to one of the billions of empty homes and move into it. The Santa Claus machine will then make anything you want.
The governments still deputize volunteers who are passionate enough to go after those who really insist on hurting others. And there are still more that make it their business to search for and rescue those who are trapped by the various cults and other despotic organizations.
So I greedily lapped up the information, and even chatted with someone from outside.
I was startled to find that keeping us ignorant of the outside was actually illegal. I could choose to continue to live inside the order, but I didn't have to.
When we were done chatting, all evidence disappeared from the computer.
The next day, I took a walk in the woods. I had to let one of the elders know that I was going out, but it's not like he was going to follow me. He was happy to see that I chose to be active instead of sitting in the house all day.
And sure enough, right where my mysterious friend said it would be, there was a Santa Seed.
I followed the instructions. I pushed the red button and set it on the ground. When a hopper grew out of it, I started throwing twigs and weeds and grass into it. It munched all of my offerings and swelled up. When it said that it had enough to work with, I picked up the little tablet that it gave me and went home.
The next day, it was gone. But I had expected that.
I looked at the tablet and it pointed me to an opening into a tree that led down to an underground home.
I almost felt guilty as I got onto the autodoc, but my mysterious friend's tales of what the outside world is like convinced me that it was what I really wanted.
A few hours later, I walked out -- looking exactly the same as before. But I had a secret hidden inside of me.
Nobody noted or even cared when I went back home.
The compound was mostly empty. My home was totally empty. The mothers staying behind to care for their little ones had no time to give me any heed. The elders were too old and tired to bother with me.
Nobody bothered with me. Nobody cared.
It was a wonderful week.
I explored the big wide world while staying at home. I tried on every kind of virtual body I could think of while my regular body rested, exercised, showered, or whatever it needed to do to stay healthy.
But I found out something.
I found out why I had always felt out of phase with the rest of the compound. I found out where that vague longing came from. I found out why I felt so envious of the nice things that the girls got to wear.
I found out that I was a girl.
Once I found that out, I started exclusively choosing female forms. I cried every time I had to go back to my old body. I refused to accept anything but a female body. I refused to wake up from my dream for the rest of the week.
Anyone looking in would have seen me wandering around the house, sleeping, exercising, showering, or whatever. If they looked close enough, they would have seen a blank expression on my face.
But the people I was visiting were all wonderful.
Some were volunteers that specialize in freeing, deprogramming, and welcoming the former members of cults. Others were just normal people going about their normal activities.
I was encouraged to visit other communities. I was encouraged to use my freedom.
I made lots of casual friends, especially among the communities of former cult members. I made a few closer friends. Some were well on their way to being like family to me. In fact, a family of former cult members offered to adopt me.
But the day came when my family would be back. On that day, I had to wake up from my dream. That was the end of my staycation.
I hated going back to my boy body. I really hated it.
My family came back and, rather than tell me how much they missed me, berated me for missing out on that important camp, and set up a stringent program to get me properly ready for next year's camp.
That was all I needed to know. That was the final test.
The next night, when everyone was asleep, I used my connection to the wider world to look through the house with the cameras that I had hidden.
I walked out the door, keeping to the shadows. I snuck through the compound and to the hidden door that a robot dispatched from the hidden underground home had created.
I walked through the forest to my secret little hidey hole and crawled back into the autodoc.
The next day, wearing the body that I had designed during that week of freedom, I walked out of the hidey hole house and into a waiting aircar and freedom.
My new friends were waiting. My new family was waiting.