<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/62/JustinSubject3.jpg)</div><em> “Justine, you have to reconsider.”<br/>     <br/>     “No mother, I don’t.  I have thought about it and thought about it.  I know you won’t say it, but I am a burden.  I am infertile.  No one will want me for a bride and I do not wish to work in the factories anymore.”<br/><br/>    “But Justine, you don’t know what will happen.  What if something goes wrong.”<br/><br/>     “Dr. DuPont is one of the foremost doctor’s in England, mother.”<br/><br/>     “Yes, yes…she is brilliant by all accounts, but I have heard rumors.”<br/><br/>     “And that is all they are mother.  I am going through with it.  I have made my decision.”</em><br/><br/>In the healing chamber Justine remained in calm repose.  Her fingers knitted together below her breasts and above the wide dimples along her lower abdomen.  The heads of her new appendages were all that was currently visible of the healing members and did little to take away from the smooth expanse of her lower abdomen.  The doctor had done spectacular work.  Her body was knitting itself back together after the ordeal of the surgery, the chamber’s fumes stimulating cells and platelets into a frenzy of infection fighting, flesh knitting super surgeons.<br/><br/><em>Justine sat at the table fidgety and nervous.  She had answered an fertility research add in the paper and worked her way through an exhaustive weeding out process only to be cast aside at the end as “not a viable candidate.  What did that mean?  Not viable.  She had cried herself to sleep for the better part of the next week until the telegraph came.  “I may have a way to help you.  Please meet me at the Oldmire Club tonight at 8:00pm so we can discuss.  Dr. Charlotte DuPont.”  <br/><br/>     The club was quiet and filled as were most establishments these days with women.  There were a few men in the crowd and they were gathering much of the attention, but Charlotte barely noticed.  In truth she had noticed more of the women than any of the men, a source of some trepidation to her current predicament.   She was here to discuss fertility with a woman she did not know, so she could be married to a man that she could not love.  ‘Duty.’ She reminded herself.  It was her duty as a woman and a daughter to do this, and her wants were completely secondary.  Justine was lost in thought and her glass of absinthe when she walked up, her hair the color of autumn fire, clearly not of Whitechapel was the beautiful woman.<br/><br/>     “Justine?  Hello.  I am Dr. DuPont.”</em><br/><br/>Justine’s chest rose and fell in shallow yet even breaths, taking in the healing vapors with every inhalation.  There was no pain that etched her features as the opiates made the invasion of needle and knife nothing more than a dull ache in the background of her mind.  Justine’s form was slight and her body firm from the work she was forced to do in the factories.  Her features however were delicate and her skin pale as porcelain.  She looked far more fragile that she really was.<br/><br/><em> Empty glasses that once contained the emerald fairy’s elixir cluttered the table.  The doctor had been surprisingly engaging and able to put much of Justine’s fears to rest.  She was able to ease probing questions into their conversation in ways that made Justine completely comfortable answering them.  Then there was the gentle touch.  A simple brush of hand against her knee, the squeeze of a hand on her thigh when Justine told an off color joke, their heads close together so the other patron couldn’t hear the naughty punch line.  Justine gave signals of reception as clear those of the doctor’s interest, a flip of her long golden hair, her hand covering the doctor’s as they laughed…<br/>     <br/>     “I have one last question Justine and this is most important.”  The doctor leaned in close enough for their cheeks to brush and the warmth of the doctor’s breath to wash over her ear.  “Would you like to know what it truly feels like to have sex with another woman?”<br/></em><br/>“Are you awake?”  The words felt like a dream invading a dream, stirring her dream state like a can of multi-colored paint, swirling her memories and fantasies together to coalesce into something else, another phantasm of dream and reality.<br/><br/><em>“This is my assistant, Prudence.”<br/><br/>     “It is a pleasure.” Justine greeted the doctor’s platinum haired assistant, trying to hide a blush at the thought of the doctor’s beautiful assistant knowing exactly why she was here and what that potentially said about the type of woman Justine was and would become.  <br/><br/>     “Prudence.  Please take Justine in the back so she can disrobe and prep her for the procedure.”  Prudence nodded and led her past the chamber the doctor explained would help speed her healing, past the operating theater and to a small room set aside for Justine.  The doctor had been kind enough to allow her to bring some of her personal effects and some clothing and had set up a bed as the doctor had told her that she would need to observe her for some time after the procedure to make sure there were no prolonged effects and that everything had gone per design.  That thought alone had caused a panic that had almost sent Justine running, but something had kept her legs from moving.  There was a primal urge that stirred within her.  Was it Darwin’s urge for procreation?  Was it the thrill of being included in something momentous?  Or was it the carnal thoughts of the good doctor and her lovely assistant and how she might be able to please them in a way no other woman could if they only felt the same attraction she did towards them.  Whatever it was she stayed and now Prudence was leading her to a place where she would be stripped and shaved and she knew that despite all of her nerves she would enjoy it.</em><br/><br/>"You must be a very strong woman."<br/><br/>Somewhere her mind began to take the first steps towards consciousness.<br/>