Rewrite my own DNA

It was very instructive. Where I would have been careful about not bunching the fabric and getting it to hang just right, Jim was only concerned with how it showed me off, not how I showed off the garment. That was an important thing to know about dressing for a boy. Girls worry about the dress; boys only care about what's in the dress.

I thought about that and came to the conclusion that it was something to do with girls having fashion models as role models. A fashion model's job is to make the clothes look good, not to look good at the expense of the clothes. Boys care about clothes the same way they care about the wrapping paper on a present; pretty, but something to be quickly discarded so they could get to the good stuff inside. Jim had dressed me as a favor to me, but he did it to his own vision of what made me look good.

Thinking of myself as a present for a boy made me feel all tingly and nice. I pictured myself wrapped in bright paper with a bow around my waist, waiting to have my wrapping ripped off so I could make some boy happy. I grinned even more as I thought about that.

Jim interpreted my smile to mean that he had gone a good job with my clothes. He bent down and put his arm behind my back and under my legs. It was very easy to let him pick me up and carry me. I rested my head on his shoulder as he walked down the stairs to the family room.

Bud was watching TV with his back to us, but Bambi looked up as Jim carried me over to the sofa. When she saw my face, she must have figured that I was fine and just being me, because she went back to her book immediately. Jim laid me carefully on the couch where I could see the TV. My bare feet were right next to Bud, and he took one look and scooted over so they were in his lap and started to rub them. If I thought I was in heaven before, this clinched it. I went as limp as a dishrag and closed my eyes.

Over the next hour, my high faded away and left me with a pleasant afterglow and a clear head. I remembered modifying my breasts and I pulled open my shirt and felt them. The areola were the same diameter, but were puffed up. The nipples still stuck out about an inch, but felt thicker. I remember wanting them to be more sensitive. They certainly were that. I thought I could feel the ridges of my fingerprints where I touched them.

I saw Bud staring at them. The tip of his tongue was sticking out of his mouth and he was licking his bottom lip. Apparently the modifications met with his approval. I got up and went over to show Bambi.

"I made some improvements," I told her, holding my shirt open and modeling for her. "What do you think?"

"Wow!" she said. "Is this a permanent change?"

"I think so," I told her. "At least everyone seems to like it."

"Well, they will certainly attract attention under a tight top," she said, feeling their firmness.

"You mean even more attention than before?" I asked with a chuckle.

"Point. I'm curious — how hard was this to do? How long did it take?"

"Not hard. And only a few seconds. Why?"

"Because this goes beyond just changing your skin pigments or rapid healing. This is a real structural change. On a small scale, of course. But it is a big step beyond what you've done before."

"Ah," I said. "I had in mind making them larger and more sensitive. The 'more sensitive' part implied greater nerve density. I've been so wrapped up with the strength and physical things that I hadn't considered that some of the other things have to be due to changes in my nervous system... and my brain!" I checked the boys to see if they were listening in, but they were engrossed in another game and paying no attention to us. "The telepathy and the intelligence are probably due to physical changes in my brain. If I can change one part of my nervous system, I can probably change any of it." I sat weakly down in a wingchair next to Bambi. "This is profoundly scary. I may be the first person in history to have the capacity for self-evolution. I can probably even rewrite my own DNA."

"Don't jump to conclusions." She warned me. "It may not go that far."

"You're right. DNA is way too slow for what I have been able to do — I think. Dammit! I don't know enough."

"All the more reason to be cautious. I know you're going to experiment, but go slow. Learn as much as you can before trying anything big."

I laughed. "Define 'big'," I said.

"Your brain."

"Yah. Good one. You're right. I'll really want to know a hell of a lot more before I screw around with the stuff between my ears. I think we'll let that take its own course without any help." I thought about what I knew and what I wanted to know. I was going to have to learn a lot more about molecular biochemistry before I even thought about messing around with things beyond the cosmetic level. I thought about the level of science I was being taught in school and frowned. I glanced at Bambi. She was watching me think. I'm sure it wasn't a really great spectator sport.

"I'm being impatient, aren't I?" I asked.

"Yes. You are. You're developing quickly enough as it is. Don't push it."

"You think the impatience is a side-effect?"

"I think it's... well, I was going to say 'normal', but I know you don't like that word. But it certainly could be a natural side-effect of your hormones."