… put on the helm.

You glance over at the VR helm that Jenson had pointed out, a sense of foreboding washing over you. The device looked sleek and sophisticated, with a black matte finish that seemed to absorb the light from the screens around it. It was attached to the side of the control panel by a thick, snaking cable that looked more like a tentacle than a piece of technology. Swallowing your fear, you reached for the helm, the weight surprisingly substantial in your hands.

As you place the helm over your head, the room around you fades away, replaced by the cold embrace of darkness. You feel the gel-like substance within the helm conform to the contours of your face and the back of your head, a strange sensation that sent shivers down your spine. With a soft click, the visor lowers, and the darkness is pierced by a sudden flood of light. You’re no longer in the lab; you’re in a vast, virtual space filled with a kaleidoscope of data streams and holographic interfaces. The room is so realistic you can almost smell the ozone of the virtual circuits.

“Query: Commence mental transfer?” The simple AI asks you.

You shake your head, despite knowing it can’t see you. “Negative. No not initiate.”

“Unidentified user command. Commencing transfer.”

“Wait, no. Stop-” The cold gel inside the helm shifts again, this time more intimately, sending bio mechanical tendrils into your mouth, nose, ears, and even eyes, the sensation overwhelming.

The world around you blurs as the AI's voice fades and the lab's layout overlaps with a barrage of new visual data. Your consciousness is being invaded, absorbed by the system. Then nothing.

Your are floating in a warm gel. You reach out and your hand touches the solid concave curve of a pod’s plexiglass. Your consciousness has been transferred into one of the clones!

Panic sets in as you realize the full implications of what’s happened. You're a prisoner in another body, trapped in a lab of horrors. Your new body is female, and you can feel the weight of its breasts, the softness of the skin, and the gentle pulse of the heart beating in your new chest. You try to scream, but the gel muffles the sound, creating bubbles that ascend into the pod.

Then there is a gurgling sucking sound as the gel drains and you are expelled from the pod onto the lab floor.

You gasp for air, your new lungs filling with a cold, recycled air that tastes faintly metallic. Your body feels alien, your movements clumsy as you try to get to your feet. Your legs are longer than you remember, your center of gravity shifted, and your balance is all wrong. You stumble, your bare feet slipping on the slick floor, and your palms slap down to catch your fall. You feel the coldness of the floor against the softness of your new skin, and the sensation sends a jolt through your nervous system.

All the other pods have emptied as well and gasping, naked, afraid identical female clones look about the lab. You have a bad feeling about this!

“I’m Ben…” you say, your voice high and sexy. It sounds wrong. “What the hell happened to me?”

“No, I’m Ben!” Another woman says. She has big breasts, just like you. She covers them self consciously as you stare at them.

You look down at your own naked form, and touch your new chest tentatively. The breasts feel foreign and sensitive under your palms, and you quickly realize that you're just as exposed as the others. Your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

“No. I’m Ben!”

“Uh uh. I’m Ben!”

“Maybe we are all Ben. Fuck. I have a pussy!?”

The shocked exclamation from one of the clones breaks the awkward silence, and you watch in horror as the woman’s hand drops to her crotch, confirming the unthinkable. Your own hand mirrors her action, and you feel the same alien sensation. You are apparently trapped in all of these cloned female bodies, with no idea how to escape.

“Sorry ladies. I’m the original Ben. You’re clones and mind copies which are illegal and would be legally destroyed if the authorities found out,” your original body says as he removes the helm.