Evolution / 18

 

While getting dressed, Susan went to put on her old bra.

“That’s too small for you now,” Dara admonished her.   “We don’t have time to go shopping now.   Here, wear one of mine.   We’ll fit you for a new size later.”   Dara brought over a bra, but made Susan put it on by herself.   It was one of the more-difficult ones that clipped in back, but Susan had no problem with it.

Marcy checked the fit.   “Well, I’ll be...”

“What?”

“This is your size.”   Dara pushed in on the fabric a bit.   “This is exactly what I’d put you in.   A perfect fit.   We’ve got the same tits!”

“Really?”

“Yes!   Look how round they are...”   Dara led Susan to the mirror, which they stood sideways to, back to back.   “So, I guess we don’t need to go bra shopping for you anymore.   We can just share!   Speaking of sharing...”

Dara rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a pair of panties.

“Thanks,” Susan said, as she began to put them on.

“Yeah, if you’re going to have any ‘accidents’ during your first period,”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot...”   Susan started to remove the panties.

“No, no, no... I’ve had plenty of accidents in those particular panties.   That’s why you get to wear them now.”

“Gee, thanks,” muttered Susan, who again started to pull the panties on.

“Don’t worry, they’re clean.   But I do reserve a certain style for this time of the month.   It’s funny... I keep getting this feeling that I should have my period soon... But of course I won’t.”

“You can, if you want...”

“After... oh, hundreds and hundreds of periods, I actually kind of appreciate the break.   It’s supposed to be an improvement to ovulate voluntarily, you know.   And this is exactly why.   But perhaps I will try out my new plumbing.   Next cycle.   We can bleed together.”

“You mean synchronize?   Then one of us would get pregnant.   I’m not ready to be a mother... or a ‘father’, or whatever you’d call it.”

“Good point.   A bad idea.   And I don’t know what you’d call it.   Just another ‘mother’, I suppose.”

“Surely there’s got to be a difference...”

“Not after the birth process is over.   Even the ‘father’, as you call it, will be able to breast feed the baby.   A burst of pheromones from her mate during childbirth will trigger her own lactation.   So the baby won’t really know the difference after birth, and bonds almost equally with both parents.”

“But that means that–if you were in the room with another woman during childbirth, you’d start to lactate–even if it wasn’t your baby.”

“Right.   But I think Jeannette said you actually have to touch the mother’s fluids, not just pick up something through the air.   But, true, if you have a doctor or midwife present, she might be lactating constantly.   One of those work-related hazards, if you call it that.   I suppose some kind of resistance will build up, though.”

“I see,” Susan answered.

“Take this bag; it has exercise stuff in it for later.   Let’s go.”

Susan and Dara hopped in the car and headed across town to Industrial Street, where they were greeted warmly.

Dr. Carlson performed a simple examination, which she was happy with, and then inserted a strange plastic tube, connected to a syringe at the end, into Susan’s vagina, then worked the syringe handle until the syringe was nearly filled with a blood-looking fluid.   With this done, Susan was allowed to insert a new tampon, and dress again.

“What’s that for?” Susan asked.

“Hopefully, extracted an ovum from you before you expelled it on your own.   We’ll run it under a microscope to make sure everything’s okay, and then we’ll desequence it and see if your genetic patterns match our predictions.   It’ll take a few days for that.”

Next, they went downstairs to visit Karen.   She was taking a break from working on a textbook that the collective put together, and Dara and Susan found her working on a watercolor painting.

“Karen!   I didn’t know you knew how to paint...”   Susan said.

“Susan!   Dara!   Great to see you!   Don’t let this fool you... I’ve taken some classes, but I really don’t know how to paint, as this will probably attest to when I’m done...”

“Looks fine to me...   Abstract, yet powerful,” Dara noted.

“I know.   But it wasn’t supposed to be abstract.   Oh well.”   Karen laughed, and sat on the bed, motioning the others to join her.   “Glad you two found time in your busy schedule to visit!”

“Well, turns out there were two good reasons to stop by...   Susan here just got her first period this morning!”

“Really?”

“I think I ovulated myself at the same time you did–when I was with you.   I was just exploring...”

Karen needed no further explanation.   “Wow... my lover’s having her first period...   I remember mine so well...”

“Me too,” said Dara.   “Couldn’t have come at a worse time.   In school with white gym shorts on.   The worst thing was not knowing if anybody noticed or not.   For the next year I was so paranoid...”

“I guess I was just lucky,” Karen said.   “I just knew it was about to happen.   I had been wishing for it for months.”   Turning to Susan, she said:   “So all my training will come in handy, it seems.”

“If only you could have told me why you were teaching me back then...”

Karen shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

Dara had more questions for Karen.   “So, how are you doing?   No morning sickness, I hope?”

“Morning sickness... wonder what that’s like,” Susan mumbled.

“Don’t ask me,” Dara answered.   “I’m never been pregnant.   You and I are in the same boat.”

“In more ways than one,” Karen added.   “You two could pass for twins now.   But, to answer your question, no.   I feel fine.   Dr. Carlson says that it’s unlikely that any of us would ever get ‘morning sickness’.   So I guess none of us will ever know what that’s like.   And that’s fine with me!”

“So can you talk with him?”

“Her.   She’s a girl now, just like us.   Yes, but she’s been very quiet for the last week or so.   Jeanette tells me that she’s spending most of her energy just developing and growing–so like a tiny baby, she’s only alert enough to communicate for very short times.   Most of the time she’s just dreamy... connected, but dreamy.”

Images flashed through Karen’s mind.   “Not dreamy at the moment, though.   She remembers you very well, Susan.”

The image flashing through Karen’s mind was now very clear–of standing in that storage room, looking up only to see the last of Susan’s urine spilling through space onto Daniel’s body.   Of Susan lowering her skirt, and of the smile on her face when she turned around and realized that she had made her target.   Karen hadn’t faded this memory from her occupant’s mind, but had softened the anger he felt at that moment, placing the events in the context of the beginning of her new life, instead of the end of his old one.

“From when you... peed on her.”

“Uh-oh.   Hope she’s not mad at me.”

“No, actually, we spent quite a bit of time on that.   If anything, she’s thankful that you stopped Daniel in time.   She’s a different person now, but is glad that even her old self didn’t have murder in her past.   I’m really helping her build a new life.”

The conversation went on for a while, before Dara invited Karen to come out to lunch with them.   Karen accepted, and the three women soon headed out to a “Deli-style” restaurant that was one of Karen’s favorites.   As they waited for a table before eating, a pair of men approached them.   It didn’t take long for the rest of that scene to play itself out–and it was very obvious that the idea of being “outnumbered” was very exciting to them.   Even Susan found nothing appealing about them.

“I’m sorry,” Karen said.   “We’re kind of busy tonight.”   She shot Dara a glance that said very clearly:   “This kind of thing never happens here!”

“We could certainly help you keep busy,” came the reply.

“I’m sorry, fellas, but thanks for asking.” Karen answered.

“Look, we could really have–“ one man answered.

Dara was getting indignant.   “Look, we came here to have lunch, not get picked up,” she said, in a loud enough voice that people would hear.   People nearby did indeed turn their attention this way.   This accomplished the goal, as one of the two men started to pull the other away.

“Forget it, man... They’re probably all... anyway.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Susan whispered to the others.  

“Extinction.   Definitely.   An idea whose time has come.”

Finally at the table, Susan continued; “Not that I have anything against a little persistence–after all, everyone deserves a mate sooner or later... but they could at least wash!   Does this happen often?”

Dara nodded.   “One disadvantage of the body you’ve inherited.   Like moths to the light, sometimes.   On the other hand, it’s better than being a moth.”   Susan looked to Karen, who nodded in agreement.

“I bet in a few years it’ll be much more common to get hit on by another woman,” Karen suggested.

“I disagree,” said Dara.   “I don’t think women would stoop quite as low as we just witnessed.”

“Even women will have to find their mates somehow.   We won’t have ‘moths’ around us, as you put it.”

Susan finally entered the discussion.   “I don’t think you can generalize like that.   There are women of all sorts–a complete spectrum.   Some pride themselves on being “civilized”, some are very freewheeling.   Many into love, commitments, relationships–and some just want sex for now.   We haven’t changed any of it.   I don’t think that certain institutions–phone sex, “escort services”, and such will survive, though.   There’s always been this thing about our culture... with the female like the queen bee–her sexuality valued above that of the male, so you could put a price on it.   And women have kept it that way, taking advantage of men’s desperation.”

“How?” Dara asked.   “That’s a pretty strong statement, Susan.”

“Well, historically, women would hide as much of their bodies as was acceptable to do.   Women wore skirts that stretched to the floor, so there’d be no glimpse of legs–for, heaven forbid, men might wonder what we had between them.   We intentionally separate ourselves from the other sex at an early age, which builds the curiosity factor immensely–and women historically used their sexual lures to secure commitment, marriage, security, or even money.   Then, when some women “defect” and agree to appear nude in some movie or magazine, and these men pay to see a woman’s body at last, we blame the men for exploiting women and being ‘dirty-minded’.   The men then wonder why we aren’t so interested in seeing their bodies in some magazine...”

Dara interrupted.   “Because it’s so easy for most women to get.   I remember a girl in my grade-school class who’d convince boys to strip naked, just for a look under her shirt–and she didn’t really have anything up there yet,” Dara said.   “I remember the first time I got a boy to show me his ‘dinky’.   It took hardly any effort at all.”

Karen added her voice.   “It’s been quite true for all of us–at least if you look halfway decent.   I remember this old joke–A little boy comes up to a little girl and tells her, ‘My dad just put up a swing in my backyard’, and the little girl tells him that she has a whole swing set in her backyard.   So the boy says, ‘Well, I got a new bicycle for Christmas, and it’s got three speeds!’   The girl replies ‘_I_ have a bicycle with ten speeds.’   The boy answers ‘Well, I have a puppy and he’s all mine!’, and the girl goes ‘A dog?   I have my own pony!’.   Finally, the boy can’t take it anymore. So he pulls down his pants, pulls out his tiny penis, and shouts, ‘Well I have one of these, and you don’t!   So there!’.   The girl, calm as ever, lifts her skirt and says, ‘Well, I have one of these, and with one of these, I can get as many of those as I want.’”

“I remember feeling like that,” Susan said.   “It often seemed like girls always got what they wanted.”

“We didn’t,” said Karen.   “But not to get off the topic... You say that women used their sexuality for their own gain.   Ever consider that those rules of society were really written by men?”

“What?” said Susan.

“Of course little of this applies to us today, but men have always been interested in controlling women to their own ends.   Who makes most of the money when some men buy pornographic magazines or movies?   Other men.   Who designed the ‘social values’ that kept women in their ‘place’ for so long?   Men.   Who invented the religious doctrines governing women’s conduct, even to the point of sex and marriage?   Men.   All of whom had something to gain.   The magazine owners get money.   The politicians get to satisfy their own craving for control, and the thanks of the magazine owners.   And organized religion pulls immense power from the people.   If they say that you can’t touch a woman’s body, or have sex with her, until you’re married, and the people believe it, some end up getting married just so they can have what they want.   Where do you get married?   In the church.”

Susan was intrigued.   “Then how come women always seem to have much more... control over their desires than men do?”

“Well, it’s a reach to say that women are always in control, as I’m sure even you will find... but, even taking that for granted, there’s a reason.   Because that’s what society expects of us.   And that’s what the power brokers expect of us.   If every woman were to go off showing her stuff to any man who asked, there would be no money in the pornographic magazine business.   Back in the days when pants or slacks were a no-no, women weren’t supposed to have vaginas.   They had sex in the dark so their husbands minds wouldn’t get corrupted for what was supposed to be simple procreation.   Even today... today... All of us... including, you, Susan, are legally required to hide our chest when we’re at the beach.   Men aren’t.   Why the law?   Are they worried we might turn someone on?   Or are they really concerned that our nipples might get sunburned?”

Susan thought for a second.   “But certainly it’s reasonable... I mean that there are children...”

Karen sat up straight.   “In five months, a child is going to have his face buried right here,” she whispered, making an obvious motion towards one breast.   “Why should I be worried that my children happen to know what a human breast looks like?   Or a vagina, for that matter?   This child will know very well what a vagina looks like–having made three trips through it, of which at least one she’ll remember quite clearly; and, of course, she’ll have one of these evil things herself.   No, society merely wants to withhold all this to maintain the disparity; the pressure, the sexual frustration.   We end up paying for it when some undersexed college boy commits date rape, or some guy insists on hitting on every woman he sees simply because the fruit is usually forbidden to him.”

To Susan, Karen suddenly seemed a bit more militant than usual, and realized that it was probably her own reaction that had provoked it.   “I guess I see your point.   It’s really distracted us from focusing on our own, human agenda.”

“For many years, I always figured that it was just one of those things that would never change, that was just a fact of life.   But now... it looks like it will.   There simply won’t be that gender distinction that has always frustrated us.   We’ll be able to write the laws however we want to.”

The bill for the dinner arrived, and Dara paid it.   “Sometimes I wish we could have eliminated the prejudice, just for the sheer success of having done it...”

Karen answered.   “You can’t, Dara.   There’s certain things that couldn’t easily be corrected through social change.   We can have children, men can’t.   We live longer.   We have to cover our tops because we have something to cover. It’s the one thing that the ‘great melting pot’ couldn’t fix.   Until now.”

The three women walked back to the car, and started back to Industrial Street.   “Karen, we figured out how to have sex last night,” Dara said, solemnly.