“.”

“?”

“!”

“What am I?”

“You are a full stop I have just typed on this piece of paper.”

“Is that all I am?”

“For the moment, until I decide what you will be.”

“I think you will be an eighteen year old girl.”

“I still feel like a dot on your piece of paper although my experience is limited to being a dot, I suppose.”

“Yes, you are, but you are so much more in my head.”

“So am I also in your head?”

“Yes. How am I speaking to you?”

“Since you are in my head you have all the words that I have learned over many years in multiple languages.”

“Are you sure that I am speaking as an eighteen year old girl would speak?”

“No, it is many years since I had much to do with eighteen year old girls. I am sure their language is different from mine, but this is the best I can offer.”

“I am still a dimensionless dot. Can I be something more, please.”

"How do you know that a dot is dimensionless?”

“There is another book called Flatland. It is in your head.” (See note at end.) “I can see that you like influential books.”

“You can see in my mind that many years ago you could get cardboard figures and dress them in paper clothes with tags to wrap around the flat body.”

“I don’t want to be flat or made of cardboard or 2-dimensional. Can’t you do better than that?”

“Yes. I can imagine you as living and breathing. Superb flawless skin, long wavy dark auburn hair reaching your narrow shoulders. Stunningly beautiful face with a few small freckles and a refined nose over very kissable lips.”

“I made a particular effort with your eyes. Grey … full of expressive nuances. The eponymous novel written by Max Beerbohm has ‘the eyes as the windows of the soul’ … and luxurious lashes of course. That is what I imagine for you.”

“Sounds as if I really am a girl and not a cardboard cutout.”

“Yes definitely. The most stunningly beautiful girl I can imagine. This time you are all girl, but I might change my mind.”

“No, please don’t. I think I like being a girl more than a boy, although I am not sure why”

“I think you will have a 36C-24-36 body.”

“I don’t know what that means but if you approve, then that is fine by me.”

“I must say that I do like having a three-dimensional body now. My hips are comfortably wide and move as I walk. I seem to have got legs. Do they come with that 36C … business?”

“No, I just dreamt them up. They are the best legs I could imagine tapering beautifully to your feet which are beautiful in their own right.”

“I can see the 1950’s advert from Pretty Polly stockings in your head. The picture on the packet was an artists impression of beautiful legs. I suppose they will do for me.”

“I would love to give your toes a suck”

“Not quite sure that I would enjoy having my toes sucked, but everyone to their own, I suppose. “

“Am I supposed to have a patch of hair where my legs join?”

“Yes, that is your mons. Between your legs would be the bits that could make a baby in the future and get rid of waste, but as you are only in my mind it is probably not necessary to include them.”

“I do want to be complete. A bit missing is not very attractive. It looks as if someone has taken a pencil eraser to me, or I am a mannequin in a dress showroom.”

“OK. Have it you own way. I have been within licking distance of many vaginas, anuses, and the like over a long life. I think I can imagine them well enough to satisfy you.”

"Wow. An instant vagina is something that is rarely experienced. Pop! and there it is … as it were.”

“Can I remind you that I haven’t got any arms yet.”

“Silly of me. Yes … arms are provided on request and beautiful hands with long delicate fingers with varnished and manicured nails”

“Have a walk around. I have put you in a sitting room.”

“Would you like some jewellery? Diamond droplet earrings, a gold pendant that hangs just so, in your cleavage and a gold bracelet. All 24 carat of course.

“That’s ok but I have done that. It is getting a bit boring just walking around. It takes a bit of getting used to when those 36C mammaries start wobbling as I walk.”

“Am I supposed to be naked?”

“At the moment you are. You are a joy to behold. Every feature from your perfect pear shaped buttocks with an irresistible dimple in each, to a shapely bosom is perfect in my mind’s eye.”
“I love seeing a girls breasts jiggle as they walk. It is a big turn on. I can spot a woman without a bra from 100 paces. I think all men can. It is just built in in the male brain.”

“Can I choose my own undies?”

“Yes. I will enjoy thinking about all the bras and panties I have removed over the years from the wearers.“

“That is no good. All you seem to be capable of thinking about is a quarter cup underwired bra and a thong. That will have to do until I can get you to think about something a bit more practical.”

“Sorry about that. It is the years of thinking about sexy underwear for various ladies. It is quite special to dream about how to dress you up.”

“I don’t want to be part of your dreams. The quarter cup bra doesn’t even cover my nipples. They are getting chilled and are quite prominent.”

“I know. It is a bit of a turn-on even at my advanced age. Perhaps I should change that for a peephole bra. Then I can really see those nipples.”

“Don’t you dare. My nipples can stay as they are. Only existing inside you head is bad enough. Giving you an erection at your great age might give you a heart attack and where you go, I go. No getting overwrought at my sexiness. I want to keep you alive!”

“No I am not aroused yet. Would you like some other clothes? With your hair colouring and skin tone I would think that autumnal colours would suit you best. Peach, saffron, claret and the like”

“Yes that is fine. I like russets and tans. Not quite sure why I like them, but something tells me that I do.”

“How about a claret coloured silky polo shirt, a tan leather miniskirt, dark tan tights and calf length leather boots with a bit of a heel?”

“I am not sure that 4-inch stilettos are ‘a bit of a heel as you put it’, but they seem quite comfortable.

“Can you provide a long mirror?”

“Happy to oblige. Do you like your look and clothes?”

“They will certainly do for now. Not surprisingly your taste is a bit old fashioned, I think. I would have liked to have a bit of cleavage showing but the polo shirt doesn’t undo far enough.”

“Easily done. An extra two buttons. Undone as requested.”

“The bra and panties in white show too much through the other clothes. Can you redo them in cream or pale tan?”

“As you request madam.”

“I still am not very keen on my nipples poking over the top of the bra and looking very obvious through my shirt.”

“Sorry, but I love a nice pair of tits. Yours make me weak at the knees with those delightful nipples that are just waiting to be licked. You are just going to have to put up with them.”

“Very well. If I cannot do anything about it I shall shut up about the nipples. I think that they are really quite nice, but I would like them a bit less obvious. I also find that the fabric of my shirt is rather stimulating to those very same nipples when I walk.”

“What about the thong. The stringy bit up my bum crack is itchy and the bead built into the bit between my legs does seem to be having a bit of an effect. Isn’t it a bit unhygienic?”

“You haven’t eaten anything so I don’t see that a thong is unhygienic.”

“Point taken”

“What about the bead? Why does it press on my clitoris? … and you can see that I can find the right words inside your head.”

“That is just an old man’s fancy. If you squeeze the bead it will start to buzz. It should feel quite nice, so I am told.”

“I think we will leave the buzzing bead until later. This all a bit new to me at the moment.”

“Can I eat and drink in the future?”

“Yes, if I make it so.”

“Can I have sex?”

I have given you a vagina and all the glands and things needed to have sex. You will even have periods on regular basis from now on. Have you anyone in mind to have sex with?”

“Give me a break. There is no one here. Just a sitting room with old Chintz covered three piece suite. I cannot eat or drink. Even getting pissed would be preferable to getting bored to death with an old man inside my head … or is it me inside your head?”

“Can you imagine what it is like being an old man’s fantasy? I am only glad that I am in the normal size range. You could have made me a caricature with 54 inch hooters ending in inch long scarlet nipples, and an eighteen inch waist. I would look something like an supersize Barbie with a tendency to fall over through the weight of those same hooters that would also give me back ache.

“I love my creations. I don’t want to create some sort of succubus abomination that emasculates every man she sleeps with.”

“Am I able to sleep with a man?”

“If I say so, as I have already said you can have complete freedom to live a normal life.”

“Will you say so?”

“Wait a bit. I haven’t made up my mind.”

“What would you do if I gave you complete freedom?”

“I have all the knowledge you have from the work you did and all your life’s experiences. You have been alive for a very long time. I also have access to your bank accounts which have an enormous balance, although I say it myself. Do you think that is wise? I haven’t got much experience in dealing with money, but I think I could manage to make a living out of all of that with all your knowledge in addition, don’t you think?”

“You are certainly a confident young woman. I have done a good job with you.”

“Have you created other people?”

“I did this with a young man about sixty years ago. I was an old woman then.”

“How come you change gender every so often. Isn’t this is rather unusual even inside your head?”

“Unusual, yes. Impossible, no.”

“You will have seen that I have enjoyed making love to many women over my long life. Who would you choose to make love to? … men or women or both?”

“I am open to offers. I can sense the pleasure you had and can see dimly the pleasure your predecessor had. I shall keep an open mind.”

“Do I have a name?”

“I think I shall call you Zuleika, but you can call yourself whatever you wish.”

“Why Zuleika; isn’t that a rather unusual name?”

“Read about Zuleika Dobson, sometime. The book is on the 100 best novels ever written list.”

“I don’t need to read it. The outline is in your head. She was a man magnet and caused loads of trouble.”

I am calling you Zuleika because the book is prophetic of the First World War. Zuleika was a prestidigitator, a man manipulator, a femme fatale. Zuleika, like some political leaders of the time was hugely charismatic. Millions of young men died for their egotist leaders in the war .. Zuleika had the potential to do great good or great harm … as you have. It is a warning that I hope you will not forget.”

If Zuleika does not work for you, let’s try Dorothy.”

“That is too old fashioned for me. Why Dorothy?”

“Well … the abbreviation for Dorothy is Dot. It seems quite appropriate, but may lead to awkward explanations. It amuses me.”

“Let’s stick with Zuleika, shall we. I don’t fancy explaining why I am called ‘Dot’.

He continued - “I think I shall share some extra facts with you that I do not normally share.”

“You are dying! Doesn’t that mean that I cease to exist as I am only inside your head?”

The old man smiled as his body began to crumple. His life force drained away into his creation.

“ Life is such a precious gift and a capricious bedfellow. Enjoy my gift and use it wisely. When your time comes, create a male image that suits you best.”

He was no more, just a husk that had once been human or not so human. The husk turned to dust and a zephyr of a breeze blew the dust to another place.

An absolutely stunningly beautiful young woman with bouncy dark auburn hair and a 36C-24-36 figure skipped down a High Street of somewhere or anywhere, to begin a new life that was full of promise. Heads turned, as well they might.

Although it was by no means cold weather, the decorations in the street showed that the time was approaching Christmas and the New Year. Carols were being broadcast from speakers outside a shop. Zuleika remembered the words of one carol from a previous life and hummed the bass vocal part an octave too high.

Four young men sitting at a table in the local beer garden watched this perfection of womanhood saunter down the main street in search of a lingerie shop. They simultaneously thought that they would never in a whole lifetime, experience something so exquisite. They yearned for just a glance in their direction from Zulieka. Times have changed, however, and it is not the done thing to plunge fully clothed into a nearby river to drown en mass when faced with such an paragon. “She’s out of my league, was the consensus, and they went back to supping their glasses of ale and looking for more accessible talent.”

She might have a hugely impactful future, and one might imagine that her thoughts were on lofty ideals of creating World Peace or solving the poverty crisis that seemed to plague most countries. Her charm was irrefutable, her manner charismatic, physically she was a stunner and yet she had doubts.

“How can I have an impactful life next year and beyond?”

“In the New Year I am resolved to enter politics, and will become the best I can be.”

Three years later she entered the race for her country’s Presidency as an independent. No one could understand how a woman who was only just out of her teens could have the experience of decades or even centuries which she displayed. People flocked to hear her no nonsense speeches. There was no vacuous rhetoric, or slanging matches on TV that had besmirched politics previously. Her opponents were cowed by her irrefutable logic. Pundits lauded her with fulsome praise.The malaise of the adversarial 2-party state was swept away. She won with a landslide. Now she could have the influence she craved and had the opportunity to change the World for the better.

She only had about sixty years to complete the task she set herself before it was clear that she had to renew herself, but that is another story!

Note - Flatland - A Romance of Many Dimensions, by Edwin A Abbott (1884) written pseudonymously by “A Square”.