Clarissa's Genes Get Packed

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2

Author's Comment:

The idea for this story came from one of my well loved readers who goes by the name Drunken Dwarf. My thanks to him. This is the second plot idea he's suggested, and which I wrote, so he's on a roll.

This story is written in two versions, one long and one short. This is the short one. The long one is titled "Packing Clarissa's Genes." The two versions were the result of reader input where some people said they liked short stroke stories and other people liked longer ones, with more character development and a slower pace.

In trying to write a short stroke story I failed, initially. It turned into the above referenced longer story. So I tried again, using the same basic plot idea and this story was the result. So this one is supposed to be the stroke version. At least I think so. It's about a third as long as the first one I wrote.

You, the reader, are the judge. Take a look at them both and see which one you like better... assuming you like either one of them (grin). And please, let me know what you think.


Chapter One

Clarissa Davidson lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She was thinking about particle physics, which might seem odd for a sixteen-year-old high school student, but it wasn't odd for Clarissa. She was a genius, and was so far ahead of her classmates in the academic realm that it was like comparing a kindergartener to an eighth grader.

You'd think that would have made her different than her peers in other ways too, but such was not the case. Smart she might be, but that didn't make life as a teenager any easier. They say that with the sweet comes the sour. That's just life. And Clarissa was fully engaged in life.

She and her brother, Matt were just three and two years old, respectively, when they were orphaned. Their father's brother, Bob, was their only living relative and he took them in. He was the only father they remembered, really, but in honor of his brother's memory, he insisted that he was just "Uncle Bob."

Their heritage was also present in their body makeup. Both their parents had been thin, and the children they produced seemed to be exact copies, physically. Neither had an ounce of fat to spare and Clarissa had been able to pass for a boy until she was thirteen. She hadn't even put on a top to swim in until Uncle Bob made her, when she was twelve. He said that even though it was only in the backyard pool, and even if nobody could see them, she was a girl and should act like one.

That was difficult for her. She didn't feel like a girl, really. Even now, well into her teens, terms like "flat as a board" applied to her well. Some of the jocks at school had even teased her, telling her she was a "pirate's dream" and laughing. She had to find out from her brother that that meant she had a "sunken chest."

That she coped with that kind of thing was because of her intelligence, though a strong dose of literal thinking helped. When Matt had told her a pirates dream was a sunken chest, she'd taken her top off and stared at herself in the mirror.

"My chest isn't sunken," she'd said to her reflection. "I have bumps."

In her mind, because her sixteen year old breasts rose from her chest a couple of inches, that meant that the jocks were wrong. That made them stupid, which meant that the fact they were cruel didn't really matter. She'd rather think about something interesting, like string theory, than concentrate on something a bunch of stupid jocks made jokes about.

Her brain recognized that it was getting dark outside. That reminded her of a joke one of her science minded friends had told her earlier in the day: "What's the speed of dark?"

She'd laughed, but she'd actually thought about it too. That was what set her apart from other teens her age. She wondered about things like what happened to all the photons that were already present in a room when a light was turned off? Where did they go?

It was her turn to cook supper, though, and the coming darkness outside reminded her of that, so she got up. Her stomach growled just to punctuate the situation.

She got things going on the stove and then went to set the table. She had to move four small boxes to do that. She knew Uncle Bob had brought them home with him the night before, because she'd seen him come in with them.

Being a curious girl, she opened one. It was full of small squares, wrapped in plain pink waxy paper, that looked a lot like Starburst candies, except there was no logo on the wrappers. She pulled one out, unwrapped it, sniffed it, and then popped it into her mouth.

It tasted like candy.

The other boxes contained the same thing, except the paper wrapping was different colors, blue, green and purple. She tried one of each, thinking they must be different flavors, but they all tasted the same.

Getting back to supper again, she took the boxes to the snack cupboard and put them there, next to a bag of chips. Then she continued to get supper ready.

Genius she might be, but Clarissa lacked what might have changed everything: experience. She didn't make the connection between the candies she had just eaten and the fact that her uncle ran a biogenetic company. She didn't make the connection between the fact that the wrapped candies didn't have a logo on them, and were in plain, gray cardboard boxes, instead of something devised by Madison Avenue.

And, because she didn't make those connections, she was unaware that she had just taken a quadruple dose of a new drug her Uncle's lab was testing. It was called RD684 and it was supposed to help regulate the hormones of women suffering menopausal symptoms. It was a product of the cutting edge of stem cell research and, unlike compounds that contained synthetic estrogen and progesterone, it encouraged a woman's body to make the real thing.

In short, it made a woman's body realize it was a woman's body. If there was a hormonal deficiency in that body ... it tried to correct it.

And, before supper was over that night, Clarissa's body, undeveloped, in comparison to that of most other girls her age, and hampered by the weak genes her mother had given her, got a very shocking message from RD684. That message was "Baby, you are a woman, and we're going to make you look like one!"

Over the next month Clarissa overdosed on RD684 on a regular basis. Her uncle would have been very interested in that - horrified ...but interested - had he known. He didn't, of course. That would come later. If there had ever been a genuine absent-minded professor, he was it.

And, as so often happens when changes are relatively slow, the person being changed didn't notice it. Her brother did, though.

"Hey Rissa," said Matt one day. Like his sister, he was thin and pale. He didn't look sickly, exactly, but someone might assume he was recovering from some terrible illness.

"Hmm?" Clarissa was reading a book by Stephen Hawking called "The Nature of Space and Time."

"Did you change your hair?"

She looked up and her eyebrows rose. She always wore her hair in a pony tail.

"Are you having a stroke?" she asked.

"It looks different somehow," he said. "I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's more gold or something. It looks shiny too."

Clarissa reached for her pony tail and pulled it in front of her eyes, which went crossed as she peered at it. She realized he was right. It did look shinier. The strands almost felt silky in her fingers. And the color was deeper, warmer. She couldn't believe she hadn't already noticed it.

"How about that," she said. "Beats me. Must be something dietetic."

Matt came closer and leaned over to stare at her face.

"Your skin looks darker too. Have you been sitting out in the sun?"

"What sun?" snorted Clarissa. "It's winter, you dope."

Whether it was that incident, residing in the back of her mind, or that she was just less able to ignore the other changes in her body, over the next month she realized that her almost non-existent breasts were growing. Drying off after a shower one day she looked in the mirror and her eyes widened. She had to look down to convince herself that what she saw in the mirror was real. Her breasts, which might have stuck out two inches in the past, were now looking rounded. Instead of bumps, she had humps. And the nipples were no longer just pink blobs. They looked like actual nipples!

Her eyes took in the rest of her body. In the past, you could hang a string from her armpit and it would lie flat along her body all the way to her ankle. Not so any more. At first she thought her waist had shrunk. Then she realized that her hips had swelled. It wasn't all that much, but it was very noticeable to her.

She still didn't make the connection between the two or three candies she ate each day after school, and the changes going on in her body. But she started keeping an eye on things after that.

So did her brother.

"What?!" barked Clarissa, one night. Uncle Bob was working late and she and Matt were home together. They had rented a movie to watch and it was almost over. She was in her normal sleep wear, which was panties and a T shirt. Matt had on pajama bottoms with his T shirt. He'd been staring at her for most of the movie.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You're staring at me," she said.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are," she insisted. "You've been staring at me for the whole movie. Why am I more interesting than the movie you picked out?"

Matt was also very intelligent, though not quite on the same scale as Clarissa. His IQ was only 116, while hers neared the top of the charts. Like his sister, his circle of friends included only geeks. The female ones looked much like his sister had always looked. But she didn't look that way any more.

"You have curves," he said, being polite.

"Of course I have curves," she retorted. "I'm a girl."

"You never had them before," he pointed out.

"Duh!" she snorted. "Adolescence!" She glared at him. "And why are you so interested anyway? I'm your sister!"

"True," he said, unruffled. "But you're starting to look like the women in my ..." He stopped and blushed.

"Your what?" asked Clarissa.

"Never mind," he said. "You're good looking, that's all."

"Nice try," she said, sitting up. "Answer the question. Your what?"

"You're not the boss of me," he said.

He'd said that before, of course. Clarissa, being a year older and knowing she was smarter, bossed him around just like any older sibling might do. He resisted, even though he knew what would happen when he did. Perhaps, considering her recent physical development, he said what he said intentionally. If so, it worked.

She bounded off the couch and they wrestled. They'd done this hundreds of times in the past. It was almost a ritual. He'd resist and she'd wrestle with him until she got the upper hand. Sometimes that upper hand was cerebral, rather than physical, because they were both pretty evenly matched, physically.

It was all in good fun, though, and there was laughter and taunting as they fell to the floor and rolled over each other, each one trying to pin down a wrist, or get control some other way. Over and over she repeated her question: "Your what?!"

But it was different this time.

Matt was fully aware of the feel of her body, crushed against his. Those curves he had noticed were soft, where her upper body pressed against his, and more firm below her waist. Her T shirt rode up and his hands, seeking to tickle or pinch, landed on a butt that felt more full and round. It had always been somewhat bony before. He could still pinch, but he had to take a larger chunk of skin.

He was distracted by the feel of her butt, and Clarissa saw an opportunity she always took if she could. Her fingers darted to his ribs and she tickled him mercilessly.

"Your what?" she shouted.

He was almost helpless. She won this way quite often, and today was no different.

"My Playboy!" he shouted.

She stopped suddenly.

"You have a Playboy?" She asked it in the same way she might have asked "You've grown a third arm?"

"Uncle Bob said I could have it," he panted. She had stopped and he was surreptitiously moving his fingers for a counter attack.

"He did?" She sounded amazed. "Why would he do that?"

Matt struck ...or thought he was striking. Things got a little mixed up. Thinking about his Playboy made him think about the breasts of the models he stared at as he beat off. He'd always wanted to feel a girl's breasts, but that was a little like wanting to walk on the moon. Maybe someday.

And so, when his fingers darted to tickle her, they somehow ended up dancing all over her breasts. His touch was light, and consisted of both poking gently and stroking.

For Clarissa, awareness of the change in their play came when her nipples communicated with other parts of her body. They tingled and an almost electric jolt of pleasure shot to her brain.

She froze and looked down to see her brother's hands cupped over her breasts. She watched them squeeze, and felt the tingles again.

"What are you doing?" she asked, a little breathlessly.

"Tickling you," he answered, squeezing again.

"No you're not," she said. "You're feeling my breasts!"

"I guess so," he sighed, unashamed. "I'm sure glad you grew them."

"You're a pervert!" she squealed, leaning back and breaking contact with his hands.

"No I'm not," he said, staring at what he'd so recently felt. They felt wonderful, as far as he was concerned. "I'm a guy. All guys love boobs."

"Not their sister's boobs," she said.

"Why not?" he asked. "It's not like I'll ever get touch anybody else's."

"Why do you have a Playboy?" she asked.

"Well duh," he smirked. "I thought you were supposed to be the genius of the family."

Understanding came, slowly at first, and then, because of what she was currently sitting on ...which was his groin. Something moved under her butt. She scooted back automatically to see what it was and stared at the lump forming in the front of his PJ bottoms.

"You masturbate?!" Again, it was as if she were asking something like "You grew a third eye?!"

"Uncle Bob said it's normal," said Matt, who didn't quite know how to feel about the fact that his sister was staring at the front of his PJs. The male in him decided she was female, and that was all that mattered. He got even harder. "He said that sexual feelings can be very distracting for a boy, so he told me it was okay to get rid of them by beating off."

"Wow," said Clarissa. She'd never thought of her brother as a sexual being, even back when they swam topless. And she'd never thought of her uncle as a sexual being either, even though she thought he was handsome. Her eyes opened wide. "What about me?!"

"What about you?" asked Matt.

"Uncle Bob never told me I could masturbate!"

"You're a girl," snorted Matt. "Girls don't have the same distractions as boys do. Everybody knows that. That's why they won't let boys do stuff on a date."

"You are singularly unequipped to discuss what happens on dates," said Clarissa.

"Okay, smarty pants. When was the last time you got horny and wanted to masturbate, but couldn't because you didn't have permission?"

"That's stupid," said Clarissa.

"All right. When was the last time you were horny and wanted to masturbate at all?"

"I don't know," said Clarissa, feeling uncomfortable. The fact was that she wasn't sure she'd ever been horny, and she'd certainly never thought about masturbating. She knew the practice existed, but didn't understand why anybody would feel the need to do it. She diverted attention from that by asking him "How often do you get horny and masturbate?"

He took her question literally. "Some days it's four or five times. It all depends."

"Four or five times a day?!" she squealed.

"It only takes a couple of minutes," said Matt. "It's no big deal. I get hard. When that happens I look at the boobs in my Playboy and the next thing I know I'm spurting all over the place."

She covered her eyes with one hand. "More information than I needed!" she announced.

"Well you asked," he said.

She uncovered her eyes and looked down. The front of his PJs was fully tented out now.

"You're erect now," she whispered.

"Yeah," he agreed.


"Promise you won't hit me if I answer?"

"Why would I hit you?"

"Just promise, okay?"

"Okay, I promise.

"Because I felt your boobs," he said.

"You're hard because of my boobs?" She was amazed.

"Yup," he sighed. "I bet they look just as good as the ones in my Playboy."

All kinds of new emotions flittered through Clarissa. They made her want to cry and laugh, all at the same time. She didn't know how to feel. No boys had ever noticed her before, at least not in a positive way. And that had stung, even though she didn't dwell on it. Now, the first boy to notice her as a female ... was her brother. The brother who masturbated while looking at pictures in a Playboy. The brother who thought her breasts might look like the ones in that magazine!

She had much to think about and, in true academic fashion, she just stood up and walked away to do so. It was late enough that she just went to bed.

Matt got up too. He went to bed as well. But he didn't pull out his Playboy this time. He just closed his eyes and remembered the feel of Clarissa's boobs as he stroked his hard cock.

He spurted within a minute.

The reason their Uncle was working late that night was because of a new side effect of RD684 that had just been discovered in the clinical trials going on.

It made the women horny.

There was no other explanation, really. Most of the women in the study were over fifty and all had reported that their interest in sex had been steadily declining over the years. Some women in the study hadn't had either a period or sex in over a year.

All of them were now saying that their interest in sex had revived. All of them.

100%, in terms of any unexpected side effect was unheard of. Naturally, Bob and his crew were trying to figure out if this was a problem or not. Most people would have laughed at the idea that a sex drive could be a problem. But some of the women reported that their newly returned desires were stronger than they'd been in years and years and years. One woman said she kept thinking about her honeymoon, back when she couldn't get enough. She said it was like that now, and her husband was not able to keep up with her.

Of course, Clarissa didn't know about that either.

Another month passed. When she first found them, two months earlier, the boxes of candy had each had ninety pieces in them. The test packaging had been based on a dose of one per day, and a ninety day supply. Bob had inadvertently brought a box of each color home with him, and had set them on the table to remind him to return them to the lab the next day. When they weren't there ... he wasn't reminded.

Eating two or three a day had depleted one box completely. The pink ones were all gone, and there were now only thirty of the yellow ones left in their box. Clarissa had thrown the first box away when it was empty.

It would have been good if Bob had seen that box in the trash ...but he didn't.

The fact was that Clarissa had consumed a hundred and fifty doses of RD684 in sixty days, or about two and a half times the normal dosage.

Of course ... she didn't know that, either.

What she did know was that her breasts kept growing. They got rounder, and heavier. If she'd have thought to measure them, the tape would have read 36 and a half inches, but she didn't think to do that. She noticed that they bounced now, when she ran or jumped. She'd never worn a bra before. She'd never even owned a bra before. Even now she wasn't sure she wanted to get one, because the way her nipples scraped against the fabric of her tops felt delicious.

And Matt kept staring at her. It had bothered her at first, but only because he was her brother. Then she realized the fact was that his attention made her feel good. Guys at school were paying more attention to her too, but that was different somehow. She knew Matt liked looking at her chest, but he also cared about her. He'd talk science with her. When she was unhappy about something, he tried to help. The guys at school liked looking at her chest ...but that was about it.

Then there were the feelings. Lately she felt full of energy all the time, even at bedtime. She felt jumpy ...or itchy ...or something she couldn't quite give a name to. She thought about it a lot, and she always came back to what Matt had said he did when he got distracted ... horny. She wondered if she was horny, too.

On another night when Uncle Bob had called to say he'd be late, she thought about talking to Matt at supper. It was harder than she thought it would be. They'd talked about all manner of things before, but this was ... embarrassing. It was Matt's turn to fix supper and clean up and she watched him fiddling with the pots on the stove and setting the table. She didn't even realize she was moving around as she did it.

"Quit pacing. I'm working on it," he complained. "Sit down, or something. You're making me nervous. The potatoes need another ten minutes and then we can eat."

Idly she went to the snack cupboard and got a candy. She was unwrapping it when Matt saw her.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked. "Don't spoil your supper."

"One isn't going to spoil anything," she said, testily. "It's just a little piece of candy."

"I didn't know we had those," he said. "Get me one too."

Clarissa grumbled to herself about how he told her not to eat one, and then asked for one himself. She got one out and threw it at him.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," she said. "Eat your stupid candy."

He did.

"Not bad," he said. "Toss me another one."

"I'm not your slave," she said.

He went to the cupboard and got a handful.

"Now who's ruining who's supper?" she asked.

As they were eating Matt finally spoke.

"You want to talk about it?"

"About what?" she replied.

"About whatever has you grinding your teeth."

She thought about that. She wanted to talk to him, but she was scared.

"You'd just laugh at me," she mumbled.

"Not if you don't want me to," he said.

She looked up at him. Both his voice and his demeanor said he was telling the truth. She felt a wash of warmth slither through her body. Whatever was going on, it wasn't his fault. And he did care about her.

"I don't want you to," she said.

"Okay, then, I won't."

She waited two whole minutes before she said anything.

"What does it feel like when you get the urge to ... you know ... with your Playboy." She watched for the grin that would signal he was breaking his promise, but it didn't come.

"Mostly I just get hard," he said. "I mean when I get hard, I know to do it."

"But how do you feel when you're getting hard?"

"Oh," he said. "You mean what gets me hard?"

"I guess so."

"Lots of things," he said. "I get hard when I think about certain girls at school. I get hard every time I go into Ms. Jakowitz's class, but if you tell Uncle Bob I'll swear you're lying."

"I'm not going to tell him," said Clarissa. "You can't do that at school, though."

"Yeah," he said. "That's when I spend the whole afternoon horny and I beat off as soon as I get home."

"What does horny feel like?" she asked.

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows, but he didn't laugh.

"I dunno. I get all anxious feeling, I guess."

"Like you have all this energy and it won't come out?" she asked.

"Yeah, like that."

"And you can't concentrate?"

"Yeah, that too."

"Matt ..." she gulped. "I think I'm ... horny!"

He put his fork down. "You think you're horny?"

"Lately I feel like I'm going to just burst if I don't do something, but I can't tell what it is that I'm supposed to do. I can't sleep. I get these itchy feelings. I think about you masturbating!"

"You're horny," he said firmly. "This never happened before?"

"No!" she moaned.

He leaned back. "Well, it's really no big deal. I mean I take care of it all the time ... you know."

"But I don't know how to take care of it," she whined. "How did you learn?"

He blinked. Then he smiled, but she could tell it wasn't about her. He was remembering.

"I was in the shower one time, and my penis got hard while I was washing it. It felt good to keep washing so I just did. Pretty soon I got this crazy feeling that was like a pain, but it felt good, so I just kept going. Then it got really painful, except I couldn't stop then and stuff squirted out of my penis and I felt fantastic." He blushed. "I thought I'd hurt myself at first, but my penis got all soft again and everything just felt good. The next time I got hard, I did it again and ...I guess that's about it."

"I don't have a penis," she said mournfully. "I don't know what to do."

Matt looked around, as if he expected somebody else to be there.

"If I tell you something, do you swear you'll never snitch on me?"

Her big sister radar flicked on, but he hadn't laughed at her and she knew this was important, somehow, so she nodded.

He leaned forward.

"I was fooling around on the internet one time and I got this porn site."

She couldn't help herself. "You know Uncle Bob said not to do that!"

"I know," he admitted. "But it just popped up, and I was curious. I took a look and then I got rid of the cookie so he wouldn't find out."

"Okay," she said.

"Well, the thing is ...they had videos on there ...and some of them were of women masturbating."

"Get out!" she said.

"No, really! They were doing it. They were rubbing between their legs. Remember how we learned about the clitoris in sex ed, but they didn't say what it was for? Well, on this video, they were rubbing that like crazy and sticking fingers in their pussy and moaning about how good it felt and everything!"

"Don't use words like 'pussy'," she said automatically. "It makes you sound stupid." Then she looked confused. "But when I have my period I put a Tampax in and it never felt good!"

"I guess it's different when you rub around down there," he said. "I don't know. It's just way different than what guys do."

She bit her lip.

"Could you me?"

"Show you what?" he asked.

"How they do it, stupid!"

His eyes widened. "They were ... um ... naked. So ... would you get naked too?"

She blushed. "I guess."

"Yes!" he gasped. "I can do that!"

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