Gender Rift

By Gregor Daniels

Max is ready to test a device that will revolutionize human society: a teleporter. But someone has to be the guinea pig first, right? The machine successfully warps him across the room with no apparent side effects. Shortly after, little details began to change--his name, his clothes, parts of his body, and more. He is slowly sinking into an alternate reality, one where he is a woman.

Length: 14,300 words

This work of fiction contains adult material and explicit scenes with erotic descriptions. Themes include gender transformations, alternate realities, mental changes, reality changes, and other perverted fantasies. For mature audiences only. All characters over 18 years old.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregor Daniels
• Release date: Sep 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370242788

Gregor Daniels

Gregor Daniels is an erotica author that specializes in gender swap and erotic transformation fetishes. New stories are typically released weekly and feature a variety of themes. Have you ever had fantasies to be a girl? Then look no further ...Contact the author directly on Twitter to discuss stories, share your favorite ideas and fantasies, scenes, and characters, or to just talk about nothing in particular.

Book preview

Gender Rift

By Gregor Daniels

Copyright © 2016 Gregor Daniels—published at Smashwords

All rights reserved.

Only ADULTS beyond this point.

All characters are 18 years of age or older.

Warning: breaking the universe might turn you into a chick.

Don’t you go dying on me, Mr. H.

Wouldn’t dream of it, Andi.

After six long years of exploring the theoretical fringe of quantum physics and living on a diet of caffeine binges and grape-flavored energy shots, the moment had arrived. Officially it was a sub-matter dematerialization and molecular transportation device, but that was a mouthful to write down every time on documents and transcripts, so Andi and I had long ago dubbed it the Closet. Really it did look like a closet—a closet taken out of some cyberpunk dystopian future. It was black with a whole spiderweb of fiberoptic wires and cooling cables shooting out of the top. Fitting for a mad scientist.

You sure about this? Andi asked me, after going around the room and switching on the three cameras on tripods and two others up on the ceiling. You can always back out.

Not this time, I told her, managing a smile. Sometimes you have to jump in with both feet. What she didn’t know was how scared shitless I was. Three years of high school theater had taught me how to put on a face.

Don’t they usually start off with mice for these type of experiments?

I rolled up the cuffs on my arms. Mice aren’t big enough.

Or maybe a cat.

No animals, I told her. The university wants results, and we don’t have time to work up the hierarchy of complex organisms for six months before we stick in the first human. It’s my project, I should go in.

Andi pointed two fingers to her temple, making the universally accepted gesture of shooting herself in the head. It’s your funeral, Mr. H.

Thanks for the confidence.

She giggled. "Oh I’m confident. Confident that something is going to happen. But if it’s anything nasty then I’m not doing the cleanup."

Andi was nineteen and a real whiz for atomic-level physics and quantum mechanics. She liked to say she had come out of her mother with a science textbook in her hand. She had graduated high school at sixteen and was working on her masters. I knew, deep down, that she wanted to be more than just an assistant, but I needed someone to operate the cameras, record footage to three backup servers, and jot down any relevant notes about what was going to happen. In scientific experiments, observation was immensely important, and Andi was just as good at that as she was joking about my inevitable death once I stepped into the Closet.

There’s three possibilities, I think, Andi said, going over to the laptop computer and operating the Closet’s heavy steel door. It swung open, allowing a fog of nitrogen to ooze out along the floor. One, nothing happens and you end up going nowhere. Two, the Closet works as we expect, and you get teleported across the room.

I looked back at her, feeling my heart pounding away in my chest. And the last one?

I open the door and there’s a big red mess to clean up.

Swell.

She smiled. No worries, Mr. H. I give that possibility about half a percent of happening. That’s nothing to worry about.

I gathered my wits and stepped into the Closet. Teleportation was something I was always fascinated by, ever since I had been a kid watching reruns of Star Trek on my family’s rabbit-eared television. Only instead of getting beamed up I was going to get beamed across the room—a spatial difference of about ten meters. It didn’t sound like a lot, I know, but that was still a huge accomplishment, assuming it worked. And bending space required a lot of juice. If Andi’s calculations were correct, then a jump from here to Hong Kong would decimate the entire power grid of New York City.

In short, teleportation wasn’t going to become commonplace in the near future, not until we ironed out any bugs and made the process more efficient. And, you know, we