Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Inspector Chalmers had settled in for the trip.  Two standard days for the
SuperShip to reach the wormhole, ten standard days inside the wormhole, and
then three standard days to the destination planet.  The major difference
was that the ten standard days in the wormhole would appear, to someone
outside, as a little less then two standard days.

   The Inspector spent the two days in transit with his group determining
which of the frigates had filed false manifests.  It was easy; only one
skipper and quartermaster had falsified records, and then he had falsified
only a small portion of his cargo.  There was, indeed, some smuggling going
on.  Chalmers filed his report with the navigators, who would review it and
forward it on to TransStar.  The inspector waited until the ship passed
into the wormhole and then settled in to read another of Maria's journal
entries.  He ate dinner, poured himself some water, logged into his
computer, opened the file, and began to read.

   Rejection

   "I will now pick up with the immediate affairs after the sexual
encounter with the three cyborgs.  I was taken, as soon as possible, to the
closest hospital, where I was examined and treated for my bruises.  The
security forces spoke with me, and I assume they filed a report.  I was
kept overnight.  Needless to say, my parents were quite upset.  My mother,
in particular, had to be sedated.

   "The next day, a group of psychologists and psychiatrists came to
examine me.  I was asked a great deal of questions, mostly about how I
felt, my state of mind during, immediately after, and currently.  I
answered all sincerely and honestly.  I was also asked if I enjoyed it, and
at what point I began to enjoy it.  Once again, I answered the doctors as
honestly and as accurately as I could.

   "After another night in the hospital, I was sent home.  My mother and
father acted coolly to me.  My brother did not know how to react.  I didn't
realize it, but it was the beginning of my being rejected by proper
society. When I returned to school the next week, everyone was quite cool
to me, including my teachers.  I was completely unaware that I was now a
`beast fucker,' `alien lover,' or any other of the various tags and labels
assigned to a breeder.  The fact that I was forced into the act was of no
matter.  I had sex with not one, but three cyborgs.  I was tainted.

   "A little clarification on my part is necessary here.  I was not aware
of the statistics, and did not become aware, until several years later
concerning my circumstance.  Roughly seventy percent of the women taken
this way die.  Twenty-nine percent go, in a few years, hopelessly insane
and need to be institutionalized.  One percent enjoys it.  I was in the one
percent.  I was aware of none of these facts."

   Inspector Chalmers pushed back from his display and sipped some water.
He began to realize that Maria was going to enter into hell and not know
why.  No one was there to explain the circumstance to her.  No one would
offer her the least bit of support.  His facial expression indicated a
suppressed rage.  This girl suffered an emotional abuse far worse and
longer lasting than what the three cyborgs had done to her.  Society was
going to do its best to destroy her.  Chalmers sipped some more water and
continued to read.

   Rejection continued

   "I continued with my schooling.  Teachers kept me distant.  Fellow
students avoided me altogether.  And, to make matters worse, my parents and
brother became cooler and cooler towards me.  And the professional
counseling, which was supposed to help, only made matters worse.  The only
thing, which had changed for the positive, was I was allowed unlimited
practice time in the music rooms.  I practiced more and more, taking
comfort in my music.

   "The professional counseling was sad.  As soon as the medical community
discovered that I was not pregnant, a battery of gynecologists,
psychologists, and psychiatrists descended on me like flies to honey.  I
was examined, talked to, listened to, and, in short, almost driven mad for
two nights every week, and one day every weekend.  The only thing that was
helpful about the counseling was the gynecological examinations.

   "Twice a week, I would strip, and, naked, get on the table, where I
would be felt, examined, touched, prodded, poked, fingered, pinched, and
explored with various instruments.  Very early in my counseling, it was
discovered that I enjoyed this, and became quite aroused by the exams.  I
was a bit amazed that, firstly, I enjoyed it, and secondly, the doctors and
counselors did not seemed shocked at all by my reactions.  It appears that
I was in the one percent, and therefore a bit of a freak.

   "I also began to enjoy being naked.  When no one was home, I would often
walk about the house nude.  In my music practice rooms, I would lock the
door and practice naked.  I enjoyed it.  I would not have cared, really, if
someone would have walked in, but I felt if they reported me I would have
lost this privilege.  So I kept the door locked.  But no one ever knocked;
it was if they knew that I was in there.

   "The third week of counseling, a gynecologist was examining me.  A
psychiatrist, female, was watching the exam.  I had become quite aroused,
and it was very visible to anyone watching.  The psychiatrist said to the
gynecologist, "Don't tease her anymore, and finish it!" Well, the examining
doctor simply looked at the psych doctor, teased me a bit more, and then
proceeded to bring me to climax.  It was intense and pleasurable.  At that
point I knew that I was quite different, at least sexually, from a normal
run-of-the-mill woman.  After he finished with me, I sat up on the table
and blushed.  I think I asked for some water.

   "The psychiatrist made a phone call, and then she and the gynecologist
left the room.  I could hear her and two other voices talking softly in the
adjoining office.  I stood up, still quite naked, picked up a magazine, and
began to read.  "After about a half an hour, three doctors re-entered the
exam room.  I was naked, and had no intention of getting dressed.  I also
had become thoroughly engrossed in the magazine article.  It was the
newcomer, a woman psychologist, who spoke to me.

   `Maria,' she said, `you will have a rough time.  Your life will not be
easy.  The state will do as much as it can to protect you, but you must be
very careful.  It is too late to change your school now, but, when you
graduate, we will find a place for you.  Research is being done on why this
happens to some women, but no results have, as of yet, emerged.  You must
take care of yourself.'

   "Then I was told to dress and go home.  I would have two more weeks of
counseling, and then I would be finished.  The government would be in
contact with me.

   "At the time, I had no clue, really, what she was talking about.  The
simple fact was that no one knew why one percent enjoyed it.  I did not
know it at the time, but I would never seek normal, genital intercourse.  I
would only ever enjoy it with an alien, cyborg, or mutant.  As I said, I
had no clue.

   "The alienation from society slowly grew worse.  Friends and teachers
ignored me, and my parents could not wait to get me out of the house.  I
received a rejection notice from the conservatory.  Although I had
excellent grades, I was not even granted an audition.  Since the
conservatory rejected me, my practice room privileges were revoked.  I was
becoming quite alone.

   "About two weeks after the counseling ended, I noticed my sex drive
began to accelerate.  I would find myself thoroughly lubricated, for no
reason at all, in the middle of the day.  I emailed the psychologist who
had seemed sympathetic, and she responded.  She told me no one knew why
this happened, but that I should try masturbation with sex toys.  When I
showed the email to my parents, their response was to have me check the web
for sex toys.  They would pay for them.  "I now was beginning to understand
what the psychologist meant.  I was to be shunned, an outcast.  I was
perverse and dirty.  After a week of crying, I stiffened.  If this was to
be my life, so be it.  I would leave immediately after my graduation.  In
the interim, I ordered some sex toys.  The variety of vibrators and dildos
was interesting, but not as good as that metal penis.  However, it helped
keep me under control.

   "The final insult was a letter to my parents informing me that I would
not be allowed to attend graduation.  Instead, I would have my diploma
mailed to me.  I got very, very angry.  I began to dress in a very sexy
way. Since I was a `beast fucker,' why not act like one?  Very short skirts
combined with sheer, tight blouses became the norm.  I began to wear very
sexy lingerie.  My parents obliged by paying for it.

   "My after-school routine had changed, and for the worse.  I would go to
the library after class, since their computer resources were far better
than most people's home computers, and search for towns where I might be
accepted if no one knew my background.  Whenever anyone would look over my
shoulder, I would switch to a site for sex toys.  I had a smoldering rage
inside of me, and I did not know how to tame it.

   "Finally, two weeks before graduation, some relief appeared.  The lady
psychologist came to visit, and brought a letter.  I would be able to
attend a small college in the middle of the continent.  They had a music
program.  It was not as good as the conservatory, but it was a music
program.  I would be allowed to study after all!  I could see the sigh of
relief from my mother; I would be getting out of the house, and would be
leaving very soon.  She actually grinned when the psychologist informed me
I could report to the school one week after graduation.

   "I finally lost control, but my rage was subtle and calculated.  The
weeks of slow rejection and abuse finally caused me to snap, and I turned
on my parents, who had shown no support at all.  I informed them that I
would do well at the college, I would excel, and the only thing I would
miss were the gyno exams, which I thoroughly enjoyed.  I said good night to
the psychologist, went to my room, and masturbated, quite loudly, I might
add.

   "At that point, I ceased communicating with anyone unless it was
absolutely necessary.  My father made my travel arrangement to the college.
When the day of departure arrived, no one said good-bye.  I simply packed
my few possessions and left.  I did not know what awaited me at the
college. Had I paid better attention to the psychologist, and read the fine
print, I would not have been so impulsive.  However, what is done is done.
I left without a look behind me."

   Inspector Chalmers closed the file and pushed back from his computer. 
He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.  The Transstar briefing told him
what would come next.  Maria's one-year tenure at the college, which would
probably be detailed, would be followed by the events which led her to
become a breeder.  Her story, so far, did not shock him.  The one percent
was treated like pariahs wherever they went, whether they were forced or
not.  Chalmers decided to walk the gangplank for a bit, and then get some
sleep.  Tomorrow he would read more of Maria's journal.