Flashbacks

Flashbacks

Synopsis: A seemingly normal man suddenly feels strongly attracted to women’s lingerie, and has very vivid and erotic dreams of having sex as a woman. His psychologist traces his feelings to when he was in the Army, and begins to unravel a deeply guarded and strange mystery.

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There are times when we have dreams so real that they conflict with our memories. Which are the memories, and which are the dreams? Sometimes, it gets confusing. Sometimes, we have to wonder whether the memories really are memories, or if they are something else covering a deep dark secret…

Elrodw
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Flashbacks

The figure lay on a surgical table of some form, completely naked. He shielded his eyes from the intense lights, trying to see beyond the circle of illumination to the rest of the room. He thought he could make out some details — polished steel walls reflecting the white glare. Around him there were figures — humans? — dressed in surgical garb, featureless except for their eyes, staring at him. He tried to move, and found that he was strapped to the table, fastened so securely that he couldn’t move at all.

With an audible squeal, a bright, knifelike red line of light snapped on at the foot of the table, a visible red curtain moving slowly up the table. And then the light touched his feet. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew it. The light seared every nerve where it touched, causing an agonizing pain the likes of which the man had never felt before. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. There was only the pain, a tortuous agony which crept lowly up his legs, inching ever so slowly up his body. His mind tried to shut down, to blank out the overload from the red beam, but something prevented that. He could only lie on the table, conscious, unable to scream, enduring the terrible suffering as it dragged on, seemingly forever…

**********

Frank bolted upright in his bed, his eyes wide as saucers, sweat dripping from his forehead. For several seconds, his eyes darted about nervously, until he realized his surroundings.

As he took deep breaths to calm himself, he noticed that his wife had been awakened. “Frank?” she called, sleepy but alarmed. She looked at her husband, sitting rigidly on the bed, calming himself from whatever had so violently disturbed his sleep. “Another one?” she asked, concerned.

Frank nodded, dropping his face into his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. He took another deep breath, and felt his body convulse involuntarily.

Nancy sat up beside her husband, her hand on his shoulder. “They’re getting worse, aren’t they?” The question was rhetorical. She knew how often Frank had awakened, sweating, screaming, terrified.

Frank looked at Nancy, and she saw the toll this was taking on him. He looked like a zombie, his eyes sunken and lifeless. “I haven’t felt like this since...” His voice trailed off.

Nancy was alert. “Since when, dear?” she asked. This was the first time he’d had a comparison, a frame of reference.

Frank closed his eyes, his face frozen in a mask of concentration. But then he turned to Nancy and dropped his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know!” he cried softly. Nancy could feel his body shaking, and knew that he was crying. “I thought I knew, but I lost it!”

Nancy wrapped her arms around her husband to comfort him. “We’ll figure this out,” she cooed softly. “We’ll find the answers.” And it was a good thing Frank couldn’t see her face - she was as terrified as he was.

*************************

Frank quietly sipped his coffee, sitting across the table from his wife. Without warning, his face wrinkled in disgust, and he visibly had to force himself to swallow the coffee. He set down the cup like it was a snake. “Why don’t you ever make French Vanilla coffee, like I prefer?” he asked suddenly.

Nancy’s brow wrinkled. “You never liked French Vanilla coffee,” she said cautiously. “You always said those flavored coffees were too feminine.“

Frank looked at Nancy, stunned. “Why did I just ask for French Vanilla coffee?” he asked in disbelief? “I’ve always hated that stuff!” His gaze turned to the cup. “Why did that suddenly taste so bitter? I’ve loved strong black coffee ever since...” His voice trailed off again, and he appeared lost in concentration. But his concentration broke with visible frustration. Like a clue was stolen from his grasp.

“Hi, mom,” a cheery voice sang as Julie, their fourteen-year-old daughter skipped happily into the kitchen. She gave her mom a quick peck on the cheek. “Hi, daddy,” she chirped as she gave Frank a quick peck.

“Hi, sweetie,” Frank answered warmly. “Breakfast?” he invited.

Julie smiled and shook her head. “No time. I’ve got to meet Sharon before class.” She stepped lightly to a cupboard and got a Pop-Tart.

“Tell you what. How about if I drive you to school? We’ll stop by Sharon’s house on the way.” Frank’s offer was unheard of.

Julie beamed. “You mean it, daddy?” she asked. “But, don’t you have to go to work?” She didn’t understand - usually, her dad had to go to work, forcing her to ride the bus.

Frank smiled. “I’m taking a day off. I’ll go get the car, and I’ll meet you in a minute. Okay?”

Julie grinned. “Great!” she exclaimed as Frank trudged out the door to get the car. Then when the door closed behind her dad, Julie turned to her mother. “Mom,” she said, sounding worried, “is Daddy going to be okay?” Nancy’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth, trying to think of what to say. But Julie beat her to it. “Daddy had another dream last night, didn’t he,” she asked, knowing the answer. “And they’re getting worse, too, aren’t they?” Her mother didn’t need to nod to give Julie the answer she dreaded.

************************

Frank gulped yet again as he sat, waiting, in the doctor’s lobby. But this was not a physician. Rather, he was seeing his psychologist. Again. Something was wrong, he knew, but he dreaded trying to talk about it.

The inner door opened. “Mr. Jenkins?” an older, pleasant-looking Hispanic woman asked. She smiled as Frank stood.

“Good morning, Doctor Ramirez,” Frank said awkwardly, shaking her outstretched hand. He just couldn’t get used to seeing a psychologist.

“If you would come this way.” She led him to an office - a rather pleasant office, with some comfortable-looking wing chairs, a sofa, and a small desk nestled against one wall. “Have a seat,” the woman instructed as she closed the door.

Frank glanced around nervously, then sat down in one of the wing chairs.

Dr. Ramirez smiled pleasantly at Frank as she sat down across the room from him. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Coke?”

Frank shook his head. “No,” he said, trying to sound brave. “Why does every counselor ask that? Back when...” His voice trailed off again, and his face contorted with the strain of trying to catch the fleeting thought. But he couldn’t. He dropped his face into his hands, near tears. “Dammit!” he cried.

Dr. Ramirez was sitting upright. “Back when ... what?” she asked softly. “You seemed to be remembering something, then you stopped.”

Frank shook his head, and lifted his eyes above his hands. To the doctor, he had the look of a haunted man. “I can’t remember,” he said in an anguished tone. “The dreams are bad enough, but the worst part is, every time I think I’m about to remember something important, something related to them, I only get a little flash. Then it’s like my mind goes blank. Like something is turning off the memories.” His arms dropped wearily to the chair. He looked like a beaten man.

Doctor Ramirez scribbled a few notes in a folder. “Let’s start at the beginning, then, shall we?” Frank nodded. “Okay, tell me about the dreams.”

Frank sat back heavily. “They are all the same. I’m in a room. On a table. And bright lights are nearly blinding me. There are some people there - in white clothes. Some kind of beam scans me, like a price scanner. And then another beam comes down, and it feels like my body is being ripped apart.” He shuddered at the memory.

The doctor nodded. “What kind of room is it?”

Frank shook his head, trying to remember the images. “A white room.” He paused for a moment. “No, it’s more silver. Yes, silver. Shiny. Metal. Sterile.”

“And you are on a table?”

“Like an operating table. A shiny metal operating table.”

The doctor nodded. “Is this room an operating room?” she asked, prodding his memories.

Frank shook his head. “Kind of, but not really.” He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, the better to focus on his dream. “And I was strapped to the table. Naked.”

“And there were others in the room?” Ramirez prompted.

Frank nodded. “Several others, dressed in surgical scrubs. Pure white. The only thing I could see were the eyes.”

The doctor tried to suppress her skepticism. “Were these others aliens?”

Frank’s eyes snapped open, and he looked disbelievingly at her. “Aliens? You think I’m nuts, don’t you?” he snapped. He was starting to rise from his chair, alarmed.

Doctor Ramirez was surprised at the vehemence of his reaction. “No,” she said softly. “Of course not.” Frank slowly let himself calm down and settle back into his chair. “It’s just, you know, some people make claims of alien abductions and experimentation. It’s not my job to say whether such things are true. Only to help people with their very terrifying memories and dreams.”

Frank took a deep breath. He knew he was having problems, but he didn’t want to face the fact that he might be losing it. “And then something scans me, a red beam, sweeping up and down my body. After several moments of that, the other beam hits, kind of bluish-purple. And it feels like it’s tearing my body apart.” His eyes got a panicky look again. “When I have the dreams, I can feel the beam. I can feel it ripping every cell in my body apart.”

*************

The woman smiled to herself, pleased that she was finally getting a chance to do some shopping. And the store was having a sale, too! How fortunate for her and her friends! Being stuck in the middle of nowhere, her job didn’t let her get to any sizable town very often. Truly this was a treat.

And she needed some new clothes. As she stepped into the department store, she paused a moment to survey the store. Dresses. Sweaters. Skirts. Jeans. Blouses. Ah, there! That’s where to start - lingerie. She knew she needed to treat herself to something sexy, frilly, feminine. With a broad smile, she strode purposefully toward the racks of underwear.

**********

Frank was just browsing in Sears, checking for new tools, gardening supplies, and other toys for men. For him, it was a pleasant getaway. And as usual, he saw lots of tools he’d like to have, and bought none of them. Frank strolled casually back through the store, heading for the doors back to the mall, past men’s suits, then through the lingerie department. Like it had hundreds of times before.

Only this time, Frank found himself sidetracked into the lingerie, his eyes dancing over the sexy, feminine, and lacy bras and panties. His fingers relished the soft satiny feeling of a bra as he stood caressing it.

“May I help you?”

Frank nearly jumped. “Um,” he stammered, “I was just looking. For a gift.” He knew he was turning red.

The sales lady looked at him knowingly, then saw the ring on his finger. “I see,” she said evenly. “A gift for your wife?”

“Uh, yeah,” Frank answered quickly. “She likes soft sexy things.” He gulped, wondering a few things. Like what the hell was he doing here in the first place. “And I know she’d never expect me to buy her lingerie.”

The woman smiled appreciatively. “Most husbands wouldn’t. What size is she?”

Frank gulped again. “Size? Um, I’m not sure.” He gulped again, knowing how thin his lie was. “But I’ve got a couple of weeks before her birthday,” he fibbed. “So I guess I can find her size by then.”

The sales lady nodded. She held up a bra, displaying the tag. She explained quickly how to read the sizes. Frank nodded, then thanked her and sped out of the department.

****************************

The knock on the door startled the woman, engrossed as she was in her reading. She looked up even as the door opened. The woman smiled as a few of her friends, girls eighteen or nineteen like her, came in. They were dressed in their underwear — after all, this dorm was girls only, so there was less need to be discrete. But one of them was hiding something, and the woman got curious. Finally, when the room seemed overflowing, with nearly a dozen young ladies crowded around, the girl produced a cake — a birthday cake. After all, this was sort of the woman’s birthday — it’d been a year since she came here.

The girls giggled as the ate some cake, talking normal girl talk. But one thing led to another. A little frosting smeared on a face, a smack with a pillow, and the next thing they knew, the girls were engaged in a free-for-all pillow fight, playfully hitting and tackling each other.

**********

Frank gulped, knowing that he was beet red. “And I went back. A few days later.”

“And?” Doctor Ramirez prompted.

Frank looked down. “And I bought a bra and panties,” he admitted softly.

Doctor Ramirez jotted in her folder. “It wasn’t a gift for your wife, though.” Frank shook his head, his eyes stinging with tears of embarrassment. “And then?”

Frank couldn’t look up. “And when Nancy was at work, I tried them on.” He looked up, defensively. “I’m not queer,” he snarled.

Doctor Ramirez smiled sadly. “No, I don’t think you are,” she said evenly. “But did you know that transvestitism is more common than people believe? Much more common.”

“But it’s not normal,” Frank rebutted angrily.

The doctor raised her eyebrows. “Then why did you try on the bra?” Frank looked down, unable to answer. “That act, by itself, is normal. Every man, at some point in his life, wonders if the grass is greener. It’s normal.” She paused for a few moments to let her words sink into Frank. “And then what?”

Frank sat in the chair, his face impassive, staring at the wall. “And then...” his voice trailed off, and he sat silently for a few moments. “And then I put on the panties.”

“Why?”

“Something inside of me seemed to be making me. Some force I couldn’t resist.” He was almost in tears again. “Like a part of me just had to put them on.” He looked down at the floor again. “I put some socks in the cups. So they looked full.”

“And how often have you done this?” the doctor asked patiently.

Frank flushed. “At least once a week.”

“Hmm,” the doctor said as she wrote in her folder.

“And I’ve tried on some of Nancy’s makeup. Eye shadow, lipstick. And I’ve used balloons. In the bra. Water balloons. Because they feel bouncy.”

“Does Nancy know about any of this? Have you talked with her about these compulsions?”

Frank looked up, horrified. “Of course not!” he exclaimed. “How could I? She wouldn’t understand.” He looked back down. “Up to a couple of months ago, I never had these desires. How could I explain that? What’s wrong with me?”

Doctor Ramirez shook her head. “But the dreams have stopped?”

Frank nodded, almost imperceptibly. “The bad ones have. For the most part. Only once in a while.”

The doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “Have there been any new ones?” she asked in a clinical yet curious way.

Frank sighed heavily. “I dreamed I was with a bunch of girls. Eighteen, nineteen years old? And we were all in a room together, with lots of beds. Like a dorm, maybe?”

“Or a barracks?” the doctor suggested helpfully.

Frank’s eyes widened. “Yeah, exactly. A barracks.” His voice trailed off as he tried to focus on that new piece of data.

Doctor Ramirez scribbled in her notepad. She had just seen the piece click into place in Frank’s mind. “And you were the only guy in the barracks?”

Frank shook his head. “No.” He swallowed hard, and the doctor realized that he was embarrassed again. “No, I wasn’t a guy. I was one of the girls.” He waited a second, but the doctor was just making notes. “We were having a pillow fight. And then it sort of got sexual.”

The doctor stopped writing. “Sort of?”

Frank looked down, knowing that he was blushing. “Yeah. Kissing, touching. All that.”

Dr. Ramirez nodded. “Um, hmm.”

Frank sat forward on his chair. “The funny thing is, the dream was so damned real!” He banged his hand on the chair’s arm. “I could feel it. I could really, really feel everything.”

The doctor looked up, confused. “You could feel it?” she asked.

Frank looked down. “Yeah. I mean, I could really feel it. Boobs bouncing, when the other girls touched me, everything. It felt so real.”

“Including an orgasm?”

Frank blushed. “Yeah,” he admitted finally.

“A sensate dream. That’s what we call it when the senses are so involved in the dream. They’re really quite rare, though.” The doctor took a strange turn in her questions. “Do you and your wife have an adequate sexual life?”

Frank looked up, surprised. “Yeah,” he stammered, “I guess so.”

“And you are comfortable with your sexual role when you and your wife have sex?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah.”

***************************************

The woman knew it was wrong — her supervisors definitely would object to this, but she also knew that she was dying to find out for herself. Glancing nervously over her shoulder, she followed her date through the shadows and into his dorm. They both glanced up and down the halls, then quickly ran into his room. Breathlessly, the boy closed the door behind himself, then smiled at the woman.

She felt very nervous, and it showed. Still, the others had told her how wonderful it was. Before her judgement could overrule her curiosity, the boy stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her closer as he leaned into the kiss. Automatically, the woman lifted her head, her eyes drifting shut as her lips tentatively met his. She felt a strange excitement, even as part of her mind told her over and over that this was wrong.

She felt the boy’s hand sliding around her, and she tingled with anticipation as it cupped her breast. The sensation was more powerful than she’d imagined, and she found herself losing all inhibitions. She let him guide her to his bed, and sat beside him as he fumbled with her blouse. Had she not been so excited, she’d have found it almost comical how the boy was trying to kiss her, feel her breast, and unbutton her blouse at the same time. And then, to her surprise, her hand wandered to the boy’s crotch, and her eyes widened as she felt the bulge within his trousers.

**********

Nancy wrapped Julie in a big hug. “I’m glad I’m home, honey,” she said enthusiastically. She’d just returned from a four-day business trip, and was happy to see her family again.

Julie reciprocated the hug. “I’m glad you’re back, too, Mom.”

Nancy didn’t like Julie’s tone. “Was everything okay while I was gone?” she asked warily.

Julie looked worried. “Can we talk - privately?”

Nancy frowned, then crossed the kitchen to glance in the family room. Frank was sitting in his usual chair, the nightly news blaring on the TV as he ignored it. Looking at a tool catalog. Then Nancy did a double take. It wasn’t a tool catalog. Frank was looking through the lingerie section of the Sears catalog. Nancy gently shut the door between the rooms and sat down at the breakfast table, gesturing for Julie to join her.

“Okay, sweetie, what’s up?” Nancy asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

Julie glanced at the door, then back at her mother, and took a deep breath.

Nancy interrupted her thoughts. “Did he have another nightmare?” she asked.

“Just one,” Julie answered softly. “But that’s not it.” She looked at the table, then fidgeted with her hands, visibly uncomfortable. “Daddy talks in his sleep, you know.”

Nancy was confused. “Yes, I know.”

Julie glanced out the window, then at the table, then looked at her mother. “The past couple of nights he’s been kind of loud.” Nancy nodded, understanding. “He’s been having some weird dreams,” Julie finally managed to say.

“Did you get any idea what they were about?” Nancy asked cautiously.

Julie nodded. “Sex.”

Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, well...”

“No, mom,” Julie protested insistently. She looked down at her hands again before looking back at her mother. “He’s been talking in his dreams about sex. As a woman. Being made love to.”

Nancy looked at her daughter intently for a moment. “Julie,” she began.

But Julie was not to be put off. “No, mom,” she protested, “I know what I heard. It sounded like Dad was dreaming about being screwed!” She looked pleadingly at her mother, hoping to be believed. After several awkward seconds, Julie stood. “Come on, Mom,” she said firmly. With her mother following, she padded softly up the stairs. She stepped deliberately into her parent’s bedroom, then went to her dad’s closet. With her mother still watching uneasily, Julie picked up one of Frank’s boots. One of his old combat boots that he seldom wore. Leftovers from his days in the Army. Julie reached in, and pulled out some clothing.

And as Nancy’s mouth dropped open in shock, Julie unfolded a bra and panties.

Nancy stood there, shocked, stunned, and shaking her head. “This doesn’t make any sense!” she said over and over. “He’s never given any sign of...” She shook her head again. “He’s always liked our ... games. He hasn’t been distracted at all!”

Julie nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed.

“Julie!”

Julie tried to smile. “It’s not like you two are quiet, you know!” But the forced humor was lost, given the situation.

***********************************

The woman smiled to herself as she stood in the communal shower, still basking in the afterglow of the previous evening. Another girl came in, and commented casually that someone wasn’t home last night. The woman blushed, even as the other girl laughed. The woman soaped her leg, then took a razor and began to methodically shave them. The other girl was insistent about details, and after much cajoling, the woman began to talk, a veritable geyser of information. The other girl smiled to herself, then noted that she’d been wondering when the woman would lose her virginity. The other girl described her own first experience, then noted that things got better. The woman, nonplused by the subject, asked curiously about that, to which the other girl began to describe in great detail some of her exploits, as casually as if describing the weather.

**********

Frank fidgeted in the wing chair, while Dr. Ramirez took more notes. From the scowl on her face, she was deeply in thought. Finally, she looked up. “Okay, tell me exactly what happened.”

Frank glanced at the floor, embarrassed. “Saturday morning, I got up late, like I usually do. Nancy was still in bed, and I started to shave.” He swallowed hard, an action Dr. Ramirez noticed. “I finished shaving. And suddenly I found myself shaving my legs.” He paused, knowing that he was turning red. “I don’t understand it. It just seemed like something I had to do.”

“Um hmm,” the doctor mumbled as she continued to scribble in her notebook. “Go on.”

“Well, I shaved a good part of my thighs before I realized what I was doing. Before I felt like I had any control.”

The doctor looked at Frank - really looked at him. His eyes were sunken, tired, almost defeated. Like he was ready to give up. “You felt out of control?”

Frank nodded again, slowly. “It was like I was watching someone else control my body.” Then Frank’s eyes widened. “Like when...” He froze again, and Dr. Ramirez could see the struggle through his eyes as he fought to hang onto the memory fragment. But he lost this battle. Like he had lost before. Frank buried his head in his hands.

“Okay,” Dr. Ramirez changed the subject abruptly, “let’s pick up where we left off. You were telling me about your senior year.”

Frank sighed heavily as he sank back into the chair. “This isn’t doing any good,” he complained bitterly. “What the hell good is it to tell you about my past? The problem is right now!”

Dr. Ramirez smiled warmly. “Frank, you know there is a problem. And you are having some problems remembering something. If we search your past, maybe we can help trigger those memories.” She glanced at her notebook - it was getting full. “Last time, you were telling me about the track team.”

Frank nodded slowly. “The coach asked me to be on the track team. To run the half-mile and mile. I was the fastest one in school, and he knew it.” Frank smiled at a particularly pleasant memory. “The little son-of-a-bitch had to ask me. I hated him, and he knew it. And he had to ask.”

Dr. Ramirez frowned. “If you hated him so much, why did you join the track team?”

Frank closed his eyes and sighed. “I needed to get in shape. I’d already signed up. Two years in the Army.”

Dr. Ramirez nodded as she consulted her notes. “Because your parents couldn’t afford to send you to college,” she read. “So you joined the Army to get some educational benefits.”

Frank nodded. “And track was a good way to get in shape.” Frank began to ramble on about the track team - his ribbons and medals, how he just missed the state meet because of a pulled muscle. Then he finished his school days.

“And then you reported to the Army?” Dr. Ramirez asked.

Frank smiled. “Three weeks of vacation, then a trip to the processing station. Lots of paperwork, swearing in, a couple of special tests, then a plane trip to Fort Sill. Oklahoma. In the summer. I did one-station training there. Field artillery crewman. 10 Bravo 10.”

“Tell me about it.”

Frank shrugged. “We arrived at reception station late one evening, heard a boring sergeant, and got issued our underwear, then were assigned bunks. The next morning, we began in-processing. Dental check, eye exam, the start of vaccinations and lots of blood work. We picked up uniforms, got our combat gear, had more tests. Some of us got some special vaccinations. It was a pretty boring week. Reception station was easy. Mostly, we marched around and then waited in line.”

Something Frank said triggered an alarm in Dr. Ramirez. “Wait a minute,” she said, suddenly alert. “Back up. You said you had some special tests at the processing station?”

Frank nodded, confused. “Sure. Why?”

Dr. Ramirez felt her heart racing. “Describe them, please.”

“Standard tests, I guess,” Frank said. “Strength measurements, endurance tests on treadmills, a bunch of psychological evaluations. Things like attitudes about people, race, sex, religion. Usual stuff, isn’t it?”

Dr. Ramirez tried to smile. “Of course. I was in the Army, too, you know. A psychologist at Fort Campbell and Fort Knox.” She forced herself to concentrate on Frank. “Did everyone get the tests?”

Frank frowned. “You know, come to think of it, they didn’t. And not everyone got the vaccinations during reception station, either.”

Dr. Ramirez felt a shiver. “Okay, let’s go on.”

Frank shrugged, then continued, at great length. Third training battalion, first platoon. He talked about the training in great detail. The rifle training, where he stripped and reassembled an M-16 rifle faster than the instructor. On his first try. The grenade range. Fire and maneuver. The ‘confidence course’. Frank described the artillery pieces, the field exercises with them. How they went out with the howitzers slung under helicopters, and rappelled down to them. How they fired the guns in the rain and mud and muck. Frank wiped a tear from his eye when he described the kid who lost a hand in the breechblock of the 155-mm howitzer. Graduation exercises. His assignment to the 2nd Armored Division at Fort Hood, Texas. Frank was pretty explicit with details, including the weekend passes, the hookers, and the parties. Two years of his life in an olive-drab uniform, serving the country.

Then Frank went on with his college days. Four years in a small, Midwestern technical university. Four hard years studying computer science, then he finally got his degree.

Dr. Ramirez interrupted. “I think we’re about out of time, Frank,” she said as she closed the notebook. She stood and waited for Frank to rise. “Same time next Tuesday?”

Frank shook her hand, then froze, staring at the expression on her face. “What is it, doc?” Dr. Ramirez forced a smile, but Frank wasn’t fooled. “Come on, doc. It’s been, what? Three months? Four? Something’s up.”

Dr. Ramirez finally nodded. “I’m not sure, Frank. But I think we’re on the verge of something here.”

**************************

Giggling, the group of women piled out of their car, walking quickly to the nearest store. After all, the desert heat was very oppressive, especially around noon. But they’d been late leaving the dorm, so they had no choice but to brave the sun if they wanted to go shopping. And of course, they all wanted to go shopping. Anything to get away for a while. Really, none of the needed anything. They just all wanted a chance to get away.

From shop to shop, store to store, they wandered, taking their time, looking over everything, trying on lots of clothes. And the more sexy or impractical, the more time they seemed to spend, giggling, making lewd suggestions, daring each other to try them on or buy them, and the longer the afternoon wore on, the more they seemed to enjoy the shopping. The final department store had to chase them out so it could close.

**********

Frank gave Nancy a big kiss, then tenderly kissed her exposed breast. She sighed contentedly, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, then reached her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead. “That’s a hell of a way to wake up,” she smiled.

Frank looked up at her, then kissed her. After a long, very involved kiss, he rolled out of bed. “You just rest. Remember, I promised Julie I’d take her to the mall.”

Nancy smiled. “You’re going to regret this. You know that, don’t you?”

Frank nodded, smiling. “Yeah, she does shop like her mother.” He rolled quickly away from the playful punch and scurried into the bathroom. The shower felt invigorating, and Frank took advantage of the warm water to have a quick shave. Then Frank glanced down at his legs.

Again, without knowing why, Frank took his razor and began to shave his legs. This time, he shaved them completely and carefully, relishing the feeling of his bare skin as he rinsed.

As Frank reached into his closet for his pants, he spied his boots. The old Army boots. Keeper of his secret. Again, without knowing why, Frank reached into one boot and pulled out his pair of panties, then slipped them on. Acting quickly, nervously, he pulled his trousers on, covering the lacy feminine undergarment. He felt a shiver of delight at the soft satiny underwear between his skin and his pants. Then he pulled on an old polo shirt, grabbed his socks and shoes, and padded softly through the bedroom.

“Morning, daddy,” Julie said cheerfully without looking up from her breakfast.

Frank smiled. “Morning, sweetie.” Then he frowned. “You know you shouldn’t eat that much for breakfast,” he chided. “After all, you need to keep a nice trim figure to attract the boys.”

Julie looked up, startled, then smiled. “You’re starting to sound like Mom,” she grinned. She pushed a piece of toast to Frank.

Frank sat down and took a bite of toast, then noticed the coffee cup. “Thanks,” he said appreciatively as he took a sip. It was French vanilla. Something about that bothered Frank, but he couldn’t remember why. A few bites of toast, a few sips of coffee, and Frank was on his feet. “Let’s go shopping,” he said eagerly.

Julie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Her dad wanted to go shopping? But she had seen enough weirdness lately. As long as her dad loved her, she wasn’t going to argue.

Nancy was way past getting worried when she heard the car pull into the driveway. Julie was giggling when she came in the door. “Hi, mom!” she chirped.

Nancy tried to look upset, but she couldn’t. “Do you know what time it is?”

Julie smiled. “Daddy said you’d say that!” She was beaming, and judging by the armful of packages, the shopping trip had been a great success. “Can you help me put some of this away?” she asked.

Nancy gave in and got up to help, taking a few packages from Julie. “Looks like you had a good day,” she observed.

Julie was beaming. “We had a fabulous day,” she declared as she followed her mother to Julie’s room. She dropped the packages on the bed.

“I see you found a few outfits.” Nancy smiled. “I hope you left some money in our bank.”

Julie was pulling the clothes from their bags. “Daddy helped me pick these out,” she said proudly. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”

Nancy nodded, stunned. “Nice, honey,” was all she could manage to say. The outfits were nice. Very nice. Tasteful, a bit provocative, a bit daring, but without being trashy. Much more daring than Frank would have let Julie buy.

*************************

Tears in her eyes, the woman walked — waddled, actually — from the clinic back to her room. She flopped heavily onto the bed, and immediately, her hands reached down and cradled her swollen belly. She tried to stop crying, but the tears kept flowing. One of the other girls came in, asking tenderly how the woman was doing. She appreciated the concern of her friends, even though the ranks were diminishing. Of the two dozen girls in the program, five had already transferred out. The woman cried as she told her friend that the doctor had wanted her to abort the pregnancy. The doctor had told her, very insistently, that the pregnancy wasn’t supposed to happen, and it could harm her health. An abortion was the best thing. But the woman had refused. The friend tried to comfort her, knowing even then that the friend’s time was nearly up, and she would be leaving soon.

Still, the woman was adamant that she was going to have this baby. And then, by some coincidence of timing, the baby stirred within the woman’s womb. She took her friend’s hand, and placed it gently on her belly. She watched in wonder as the friend felt the tiny baby kicking. The friend, her eyes wide at the miracle growing within the woman, began to cry, finally understanding. The friend reassured the woman that she’d support her as long as she could. Even if it meant extending her time in the program. The two hugged, crying, the friend still feeling the baby’s kicks, both unsure what the future would bring, but resolved to see it through together.

**********

Frank flopped heavily into the chair and sighed. “I had another dream last night,” he said in a resigned tone.

Dr. Ramirez lifted her pen. “Tell me about it,” she prompted needlessly. She knew by now that he was going to tell her all the details.

“I was pregnant,” Frank said simply. The doctor’s eyes widened. Frank continued. “It was like watching - experiencing - bits and pieces of a pregnancy.”

“Go on.”

“I was lying in bed, resting, and one of my girlfriends came in to see me. She was leaving for some reason, and we were both crying about it. And then she felt the baby kicking in my womb, and I told her that the baby was telling her goodbye. And we cried some more.”

“Why did she have to leave?”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t know. She was given her ...” He couldn’t find the right word.

“Her orders?” the doctor prompted.

Frank nodded, accepting her help as another piece clicked into place. “She had her orders.” He leaned back in the chair. “Another part of the dream, I was shopping with another girl - you know, a maternity shop. And I had to buy a new bra. My tits were getting too full. And I remember walking back to her car, and feeling myself swaying with a full belly. I held my hands under my belly, rubbing it a bit, giving it some extra support. And my boobs felt huge and swollen, and they seemed to be sagging so much! And my back hurt a lot.”

Dr. Ramirez nodded as she jotted more notes in Frank’s thickening file. “Was there anything else?” Frank shook his head sadly, almost as if the dream had been real to him and he didn’t want to let go of it. “Okay, let’s get back to where we were. As I remember, you were talking about college?”

Frank nodded, then began to describe his life as a graduate student, almost exactly where he’d left off in their last session.

After several minutes, Dr. Ramirez put her pen down and bit her lower lip. “This isn’t right,” she muttered to herself.

Frank stopped. “What isn’t right?” he asked, puzzled.

Dr. Ramirez scowled. “Have you noticed a pattern here? About your memories and your dreams?” Frank shook his head slowly, not understanding. The doctor looked down at the floor for a second, then back at Frank. “Think about what happened while you were in school. In grade school. In high school. How clear are your memories? Think about your memories of college. Of grad school. Of your early years with Nancy. How clear are those memories?”

Frank tilted his head slightly, confused. “Yeah,” he finally said. “So?”

Dr. Ramirez frowned. “Now think about your memories of the Army.” Frank’s eyes widened. Dr. Ramirez nodded in agreement. “Exactly. They are too clear. Crystal clear. Like they happened yesterday.”

Frank shook his head. “But that was a very stressful time in my life,” he protested, looking to the doctor for reassurance.

Dr. Ramirez shook her head. “So was the lung collapse your senior year of college. So was the broken arm and concussion in the car wreck. But those memories are faded. Foggy. Not totally clear.”

“Too clear?”

The doctor nodded solemnly. Then she put down the notebook. “You have lots of things which you can’t quite recall. And you have a set of memories which are too clear. I’m wondering if they are hiding something - some traumatic event - which is causing your current problems.”

Frank nodded slowly. “And the dreams?”

The doctor sighed. “The one common thread is the military. Barracks. Orders. Leave. Military hospital.” She shook her head. “Except for the operating room, it is all tied to the military.”

Frank digested the possibility. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. So what do we do?”

The doctor raised her eyebrows. “How about if we try hypnosis?”

But the doctor was disappointed. Under hypnosis, Frank did recall things. More details about his Army days. Perfectly clear, exact details. None of which conflicted with his conscious memories. After Frank left the office, Dr. Ramirez stared at the notebook, her brow furrowed in concentration. “What are you hiding?” she asked herself over and over. “What happened during your enlistment?”

********************************

The woman knew that, uncomfortable as it would be, she just had to get to the goodbye party for her friends. All but a handful had gone, and they were leaving that weekend. It had been the woman’s idea to have a party, to say goodbye, to celebrate their friendships, to give each other one last bit of support. But they also knew that the moment could never be relived, that this goodbye was forever. And so the woman stood over her sink, carefully applying her makeup. None of her friends would expect it, but she was determined to look her very best. Her dress was a bit worn — after all, she hadn’t had a lot to spend on maternity clothes — but still, when she finished her makeup, she looked very nice.

**********

Frank leaned over the sink, his eyes wide open as he moved the brush onto his eyelashes. With a quick stroke, the mascara went on perfectly, and Frank stood back to check his handiwork. Inwardly, a small part of Frank shuddered at what he had just done. Outwardly, he smiled to himself.

Nancy wouldn’t be home for several hours - she had called to let him know that she was working late on a new business proposal. And Julie was at the school football game with her friends. That meant Frank had three or four hours to himself. And as he watched himself in horror, Frank slipped his stash of feminine clothes from their hiding places. As he adjusted them, Frank marveled at just how real the breast appliances looked under his blouse. They had a nice feel to them - just the right weight to be a bit bouncy, and smooth but with barely-visible nipples. Not like the wadded-up socks, or the balloons.

A nice white blouse, trimmed with lace and some embroidered flowers. A mid-length plain skirt. Nylons over his shaven legs. Frank was shocked that Nancy hadn’t said anything about his legs, but he assured himself that she didn’t suspect a thing. Frank picked up the tube of lipstick and deftly applied it, rubbing his lips together to properly distribute the gloss, then he picked up the one last item - a wig. His short hair was easily tucked under the cap, and he used his fingers to tease the dark locks around his face. Inwardly, Frank felt a powerful sexual thrill as he stared at himself in the mirror.

Fortunately, Nancy wore clip-on earrings, so it was easy for Frank to borrow them. And a necklace, which he wore draping down into the neck of the blouse, deliberately left unbuttoned. With some blush, some eyeshadow, and the other makeup, and with the wig, Frank was stunned at just how feminine he looked. He giggled with delight at his appearance. Then Frank turned to his closet. Carefully, he reached behind some boxes on a shelf and pulled down a pair of high-heel shoes, his latest acquisition.

A few days before, Frank had visited a shop which specialized in larger women’s shoes. Somehow, he knew just what styles and colors would go with the outfit he had stashed in his closet. And he got heels. Three inch heels. As he paid, he noticed the clerk giving him a strange look. And Frank realized that the store probably sold lots of shoes to cross-dressers. “For his mother,” Frank had lied feebly. The clerk nodded knowingly, and Frank felt himself burning with shame. He was glad to flee the store and its knowing staff, his shoes safely concealed in their box under his arm.

And now he was trying on the shoes. As he looked at them, Frank was suddenly worried. Three inch heels. He remembered how Julie had struggled to learn to walk in high heels, and how Frank had been convinced that she would break her ankles. Now Frank was going to wear such heels. He slid one foot into the shoe, then leaned down to fasten it, the locks of his dark pageboy wig swirling around his face. As if he’d done it thousands of times, Frank easily fastened the shoe strap, then stepped into the other shoe and fastened it. Then he stood upright.

To say that Frank was shocked would be an understatement. He was very aware of the extra height of the shoes, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, he felt - right? It felt like he knew what he was doing, which puzzled him. Tentatively, Frank took a step, one hand on the vanity just in case. But that hand was unnecessary. Frank took another step, then another. Bolder, more confidently, Frank walked out of the bathroom, a bounce in his step. Like he’d walked in heels before. In a sudden fit of enthusiasm, Frank raised up on one toe and twirled, his skirt flaring upward as he spun, his face radiating the joy he felt inside.

Buoyantly, Frank pranced down the stairs, feeling happy and curiously alive. He walked into the kitchen, intent on getting a glass of juice. And as he opened the refrigerator door, his heart stopped as he heard a key turning in the deadbolt. Frank froze in terror.

Nancy glanced at the figure by the refrigerator, assuming it was Julie. A brief struggle with the key, and she swung the door shut behind her. “Hi, honey,” she called cheerfully over her shoulder. “I thought you were going...” The words cut off as she realized she wasn’t talking to Julie. Nancy’s jaw hung open awkwardly. Frank just stood, frozen, terrified, humiliated, unable to speak. For several terrible long seconds, the two stared at each other. Finally, Nancy said something. “Frank?” she asked hesitantly.

Frank whimpered, his lipstick-covered lips trembling, tears of embarrassment streaming from his eyes. He nodded slightly, then he turned and ran sobbing up to the bedroom.

Nancy knocked on the open door, more to let Frank know that she was coming into the room. “Frank?” she asked, trying to sound understanding and reassuring but really sounding more confused. Frank was lying on the bed, his face buried in his pillow, his body convulsing with sobbing. Nancy glided to the bed and sat beside him, then reached out her hand to his shoulder.

For a long time, neither spoke. Finally, when it seemed that Frank wasn’t sobbing any more, Nancy spoke softly. “Frank…”

Frank kept his face buried in his pillow, ashamed at what she’d caught him doing. “I can’t stop this,” he said softly. “I can’t control it any more.” His body convulsed again, and Nancy knew he was crying. “I’m scared,” he said in a tiny, frightened voice.

***************************

Frank couldn’t look at Dr. Ramirez, even though they’d already dissected his life in these long months. Being caught by his wife — dressed in woman’s clothes. That was too much humiliation.

Dr. Ramirez tried to be reassuring. “You know that millions of men cross-dress, don’t you,” she said soothingly. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Frank stared at the wall. “Yes there is. For me.” He was being defiant, as if that might bury his embarrassment. “I’m a man. I’m not supposed to dress like a woman. To feel like I’m supposed to be a woman.”

Dr. Ramirez was taking notes, when she stopped suddenly, her pen still held above the paper. “You say you feel like you’re supposed to be a woman?” she asked, intrigued by the change in direction.

Frank nodded slowly, imperceptibly. “Sometimes,” he said softly, “I get the feeling that I’m out of place. That I’m really a woman.” Frank was sounding more and more desperate as time had gone on. “That’s not normal.”

Dr. Ramirez frowned. “Usually, the onset of these feminine desires is slow, very gradual, and occurs in the late teen years or early adulthood. In most cases, they can be traced to puberty.” She frowned again. “So far, there’s nothing in your childhood or teen years which might show the start of these feelings. Hmmm.” She stared at the wall for a moment. “The only thing is…”

Frank straightened, lifting his head to look at the doctor. “The Army,” he said with certainty. “You think the answer is somewhere in that time?”

Dr. Ramirez nodded grimly. “Your memories from the Army are much too clear. Almost like they were scripted.” She paused for a long moment, her eyes shut in concentration. “Tell me, Frank, did anything unusual happen after you got out of the Army?”

Frank tilted his head, puzzled, as he considered her words. “Unusual? No…” his voice trailed off uncertainly. Then his eyes snapped open. “Except for the paychecks.”

“What about paychecks?”

Frank sat back heavily. “After my discharge, I got a couple of weird checks. Sent to my address, but made out to someone else. It was the damndest thing. They were made out to, uh, Tonya? Yeah, that’s right. Tonya Jenkins. But they had my social security number and pay grade.”

Dr. Ramirez frowned again. “Clerical error, maybe?”

Frank shook his head. “That’s what I thought. I called the payroll-processing center to clear it up. Funny thing, though. They insisted that they didn’t have any errors. But the checks stopped.”

“How did you repay them?”

Frank snorted. “That’s another thing. They were direct deposited in my bank account, and when I tried to repay them, the payroll center wouldn’t take my money.” Frank tried to laugh, but it didn’t work. “I always thought that paymasters were worse than the IRS about getting money back.”

Dr. Ramirez didn’t flinch. “They are,” she said, her voice full of dread certainty. For a few silent moments, she sat, puzzling over this latest turn of events. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s get your service records from the Army. And see if there are any records for this Tonya Jenkins.” She scribbled a note on a blank page, then tore it off and handed it to Frank. “Get the forms here, and fill them out. Both of them, you and Tonya. Then we’ll see what turns up.” Frank stared at the note, then at the doctor, confused. “Trust me, Frank. I’m playing a hunch here, and my hunches are usually right.”

**************************

**********

Frank snapped awake, his eyes wide with fear, his body covered with a sheen of sweat. He gasped for breath, fighting back the waves of terror as he slowly realized it had only been a nightmare.

Nancy, disturbed by Frank’s sudden motion, rolled over, her eyes opening quickly. “What is it?” she asked, concerned.

But Frank didn’t hear her. He stared vacantly at the wall, still fighting off the horror of the nightmare. “Ethridge!” he exclaimed over and over.

Nancy sat up, clinging tightly to Frank’s shoulder. “Are you okay, Frank?” she asked repeatedly, very concerned.

Slowly, Frank’s eyes narrowed, his breathing returned to normal. The terror faded, and he became aware of where he was, who he was with. Finally, he half-turned his head, focusing on Nancy.

“Another nightmare?” she asked knowingly. Frank just nodded. “Who is Ethridge?” she finally asked.

Frank’s eyes widened a bit. “Sergeant Ethridge. My drill sergeant.”

Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “From the Army?”

Frank nodded slowly. “It was the same nightmare. The room, with the table.”

“And Ethridge?”

Frank’s eyes widened. “Ethridge was there. Watching me.”

******************************

Doctor Ramirez was immediately worried when she saw Frank. He looked terrible — sunken eyes, hollow cheeks. “How are you doing today, Frank?” she asked casually, trying to set him at ease.

Frank shook his head. “I’m afraid,” he said simply.

Dr. Ramirez nodded sympathetically. “The nightmares have returned?”

Frank nodded lifelessly. The spark was gone from his eyes; he looked like a defeated man.

“Any differences?”

Frank nodded weakly. “I recognized a face. Ethridge. My drill sergeant, I think.”

Dr. Ramirez was bolt upright now, suddenly very interested. “Are you sure?”

Frank glanced at her, then nodded. “Another puzzle from my enlistment?”

The doctor nodded. “I still haven’t gotten anything back on your records.”

Frank sank back against the cushion. “I can’t take much more of this,” he finally said. “I feel like I’m out of control. Like there’s someone else inside me, fighting for control. And I’m losing.”

“How are things with Nancy and Julie?”

Frank shook his head slowly. “They’re being pretty supportive, I guess. But this is hard on them.”

The doctor made another note in her book. “How about sexual relations? Has that improved any?”

Frank closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “No,” he finally admitted. “I can’t.” He looked away, embarrassed. “I can’t perform any more.”

“And you’re afraid that your wife thinks less of you for it?” Frank nodded. “How about Julie?”

Frank pried his eyes open. “I’m having lots of fun, taking her shopping and stuff, but I’m afraid I’m not being what she expects in a father.”

**********

Doctor Ramirez sat back down after Frank closed the door behind him. This session was like the past ones. Slowly, his mind was revealing its secrets. But she was afraid that it was taking too long. She was afraid that he was going to crack from the strain, and very soon. All the signs were there. And she felt helpless, because all of her training, all of her education, all of her experience, it was useless. Nothing had worked. Nothing was helping Frank. She sighed heavily.

The sound of the door opening startled her. As she turned, a tall man slipped quickly through the door and closed it behind himself. She stood quickly. “Can I help you?”

The man, a rather non-descript man in a dark suit, shook his head. “Yes, colonel,” he answered firmly. “You can give me your notes on your last patient — Frank Jenkins.”

Dr. Ramirez started, surprised at what the man was asking, startled more that he had addressed her by her Army rank. She eyed him warily. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she said cautiously.

“Colonel,” the man said firmly, his soothing voice belying his intimidating manner, “I needn’t remind you that you are a member of the United States Army Reserve, and that you have a sworn duty to protect the country in matters of national security.”

Dr. Ramirez felt a chill as her mind started assembling the pieces. “You know what happened to Frank. When he was in the Army.”

The stranger remained expressionless. “I’m not at liberty to comment,” he said, sounding suddenly threatening. “But I am going to take your notes.” He reached inside his jacket, and Dr. Ramirez had a sudden fear that the man was going to harm her. She felt a sigh of relief when he pulled an envelope and handed it to her.

She looked at the man, then took the envelope slowly. She examined it quickly, but was disappointed. It was just a plain envelope. She opened the envelope and extracted a piece of paper. Slowly, deliberately, she unfolded the paper.

And as she read, her eyes widened. She looked up at the man, questioningly, but he just nodded. “I assure you, Colonel, that those orders are indeed genuine. That is his personal signature.”

Dr. Ramirez struggled with herself for a moment, then relented. “Okay,” she said wearily as she picked up the folder. She held it out to the man, who accepted it wordlessly. “What is this about?”

The man didn’t flinch. “You don’t have the clearance for that,” he said easily.

Dr. Ramirez wasn’t through. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of just how high my clearance is,” she said firmly, determined to know something of what was happening.

The man observed her for a moment, weighing the facts. Then he reached inside his jacket and retrieved his PDA. A few quick taps on the keypad, and he narrowed his eyes as data came up. Finally, he snapped the lid shut and replaced the PDA in his jacket, nodding. “You’ll find out at Mr. Jenkin’s next appointment.” He turned and was gone, vanishing like a specter.

*********************************

The men, all in olive-drab uniforms, sat at rigid attention, uncomfortable in the small schoolroom desks in the hot windowless room. A sergeant and some high-ranking officers sat at the head of the room, gazing out over the room, seeming to scrutinize every last detail of every man in the room. And a captain stood droning his words, reminding everyone present that this was a very important project, that it had implications for national security, that everyone here was a volunteer. Did anyone wish to leave? If so, they could depart now, and face no consequences. If not, they would face a lifetime of secrecy about the project. No one left. To a man, everyone was too intrigued by the cloak-and-dagger atmosphere of this project. Including one relatively normal young man, recently out of high school, seated in the second row. Though he was perspiring, it wasn’t from tension or nerves; he was merely hot in this stuffy room. No windows, he observed — makes it harder for uninvited eyes and ears to pry. Intense secrecy, ergo a very important project. Just the kind of thing that appealed to young male egos. And this particular young man knew he wasn’t immune. He listened in rapt attention as the captain began to describe the project, his initial disbelief changing to awe and wonder as the lights dimmed and the projector began to display photographs of the project in which they would be participating. A few weeks ago, he would have never believed it. Now, he couldn’t wait…

**********

Frank sat heavily on the couch, looking way past exhausted. His eyes were lifeless, dull, his complexion pale. He was about to break, the doctor realized. Perilously close to his breaking point.

“I can’t go on,” he said nervously. “I can’t keep this up.” He let his head roll back until his gaze was fixed on the light. “I need to get my life back.”

Dr. Ramirez noted his lack of determination, his lack of energy. “Frank, are you sure you can do it?”

Frank started to sob. He’d just heard the doctor confirm what he’d feared the most — that he might not be able to get his life back. “I … I need to get it back.” Even his angry tone sounded flat, lifeless. “I can’t go on like this. I feel like I’m fighting myself. And losing.”

Dr. Ramirez set down her pen. “What made you suddenly get so determined to have your life back?”

Frank sighed heavily, still gazing at the ceiling. “The nightmares are back. Worse than ever. Only this time…” His voice trailed off.

“Go on.”

“They’re different.” Frank took a deep breath. “This time, it goes on past the light. The light, the pain — they are there. But then it stops. And I’m …” His voice choked off.

“You’re what?”

“Somehow, the light has changed me. Into a woman!” Frank sobbed. “I’m the same woman I’ve seen — experienced — in all the other dreams.” Frank dropped his gaze, turning his head until the doctor saw a sudden intense fire in his eyes. “It was so real!” he said softly but insistently. “Every sensation, every sight, every sound. It was so very real.”

Dr. Ramirez fought to maintain an outward calm. “Another sensate dream.”

Frank shook his head. “I’m confused, though. Why this dream? Why?” He picked up the glass of water the doctor had given him and took another sip. “Why is this happening to me?”

As if in answer, the door opened, and the mysterious man walked in. Frank looked up at the intrusion, then sudden recognition flooded his features. Recognition — and anger. As if he suddenly knew the answer, and knew that this intruder was responsible. “Ethridge!” he exclaimed. “What have you done to me?” Frank pushed himself, to stand, to confront this intruder. But his legs were weak, numb. And his arms were losing strength very quickly. Frank turned his eyes, already looking glassy, toward the doctor, and he realized that she had drugged him. As his consciousness faded, he thought he heard the intruder saying something that sounded like “Good work Colonel.”

**********

Dr. Ramirez and the mysterious man walked calmly into the principal’s office. Startled, he rose to protest, angry at the intrusion. Especially since he had a secretary to stop such uninvited guests.

“Stay seated,” the man said, clearly used to giving orders and being obeyed.

His eyes widening, the principal eased himself back into his chair. He was starting to feel real fear. “What do you want?” he stammered.

“We need to see Julie Jenkins,” the doctor said simply, unemotionally.

The principal knew he was in no position to be defiant; these two were professionals. Terrorists? Military? He didn’t know. Still, his professionalism tried to rise to the occasion. “That’s against policy,” he said weakly.

The man didn’t even raise an eyebrow. In answer, he just lifted the principal’s phone and pushed some buttons in a well-rehearsed sequence. After a moment, he spoke. “Bravo leader here. We’re at the school now.” He handed the phone to the principal.

The principal took the phone as if it were a snake. Gingerly, he held it up to his ear. “Hello?” he said meekly. Slowly, his eyes widened, and he gulped. Then he gently replaced the phone in the receiver.

“Did you recognize the voice?” the man asked. The principal nodded wordlessly, his mouth stuck open awkwardly. “Good. Now call Julie Jenkins to your office.”

The principal nodded slowly, still not believing what was transpiring in his office, then he depressed the button on his intercom. “Ms. Andrews, please call Julie Jenkins to my office.”

Julie was already puzzled when she came into the principal’s office; after all, she was a reasonably good student and not a troublemaker. She was doubly concerned when she saw the principal looking very subdued, and the two guests in his office. “You wanted to see me?” she asked cautiously.

The woman spoke. “Julie, I’m your dad’s counselor. We need you to come with us.”

Julie’s eyes widened, then she looked at the principal for a clue. He bit his lip, then nodded. “It’s okay, Julie. They work for the government.”

A sudden chilling thought came to Julie, and she gasped. “It’s dad, isn’t it!” she practically cried. “Oh, God!”

The woman tried to be comforting, but failed. “Julie, your dad is okay. We just need to talk to you and your mom about him.”

Julie’s head was spinning as the woman put her arm around Julie. “But if he’s okay, why are you getting me out of school? Why now? Why can’t it wait?” The woman tried to reassure her, but Julie had already seen to much of her dad’s strange behavior.

**********

Nancy was walking back to the house, from the community mailbox. On rainy days, she hated having the mail drop a block away. But on sunny days like today, she enjoyed the chance to get out for a walk. As she walked, she flipped through the mail, frowning involuntarily whenever she saw a bill. She didn’t see the van pull up slowly beside her.

“Mrs. Jenkins?” a woman’s voice called out beside her, startling her. Nancy saw the open door of the white non-descript van with an open side door, and she felt fear rising in her. Nancy took a step back from the curb, feeling a need to be cautious.

The woman appeared as the van stopped, stepping out of the darkness. Nancy’s heart started beating again as she recognized the woman. “Doctor Ramirez,” she said, relief in her voice. “You startled me.”

Dr. Ramirez tried to smile pleasantly. “I’m sorry about the dramatic appearance. You need to come with us now.”

Nancy had taken a step closer, and felt panic anew when she saw a very serious-looking man seated inside the van. Next to Julie. “What’s going on here?” Nancy demanded nervously.

Dr. Ramirez ran out of smiles. “It’s about your husband. You must come with us. Now.” She was getting very insistent.

The passenger door opened, and the serious-looking man stepped out. He wasn’t trying to be threatening, but he was. Very stern appearance. Military haircut. Dark suit. His entire being screamed of being a professional at this type of thing. “Mrs. Jenkins, time is a critical issue. You must come with us now.”

He took Nancy’s arm, firmly but not painfully, and steered her into the van.

Nancy let herself be pushed into the van — she didn’t really see that she had a choice. And as she sat down between the doctor and Julie, she saw Julie’s face. Julie was ashen; something had frightened her, and badly. The man slid the door closed, blocking out the sun. Nancy’s eyes began to adjust to the dim interior even as the man crawled into the passenger seat and slammed that door shut. That was a signal, and the driver sped away, professionally and rapidly.

Nancy felt uneasy about not trying to run. The driver, like the other man, was clearly a professional at his job. The entire thing, from stopping to driving away with her in the van, hadn’t taken more than a minute. But something inside her told her that trying to run would have done no good. She glanced at Julie, then at the doctor. Then she glanced around the inside of the windowless van. And her eyes came to rest on the person lying on the rear seat.

“Oh, my God!” Nancy exclaimed. “Frank!”

But Frank couldn’t hear her. He was still sedated. And even if he hadn’t been, he looked far worse than when he’d left home for his appointment. An hour ago? Was it that recently?

“What’s going on here?” Nancy practically begged. “What’s wrong with Frank?”

The man didn’t even glance at her. “It will be explained soon.”

The van drove quickly to the airport. But instead of going to the commercial terminal, the van drove past until it came to the Air National Guard area. The van stopped at a gate, where an armed guard was waiting, and the driver flashed some type of identification. The guard saluted smartly and allowed the van to pass.

To Nancy’s surprise, the van drove straight onto the taxiway, up to a plane. The man stepped smartly out of the van and opened the side door. “Colonel,” he said, sounding like an order, “take the family aboard.”

Nancy was now more confused than ever. Dr. Ramirez? A colonel? “What’s going on here?” she asked yet again as they walked up the stairs onto the plane.

Dr. Ramirez shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know much more than you do.”

“Why is he calling you colonel?” Julie asked the obvious question.

Dr. Ramirez waved off the question. “That’s not important now.” She directed the women into the main passenger compartment.

Nancy gasped. This was not a regular airplane. The seats were spacious. A small conference table was tucked on one side of the cabin. VIP transport? She was so overwhelmed by the events that she numbly let Dr. Ramirez guide her into a seat.

Within moments, the driver and the man carried Frank, on a stretcher, past Nancy into the rear of the airplane. Then the driver left the plane while the man sat down. Scarce seconds had passed when Nancy heard the door being shut. She looked out the window, and saw that the stairs were already gone. And the plane was already moving. Without any wait, the plane rolled quickly down the taxiway and turned onto the runway, then the engines went to full power and the plane lumbered into the air.

“Where are we going?” Nancy asked finally.

The man didn’t deign to look at her. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

**********

A few hours later, the plane began a descent into the darkness. Even if it had been light outside, Nancy could never have figured out where they were landing. It was dark, and she couldn’t make out any features on the ground. Except for the lack of light. The ground was dark. No cities. No towns. No farms. Empty blackness.

The plane touched down smoothly, and Nancy was looking forward to getting some answers. Finally. But the man seemed to be sleeping, and the plane was showing no signs of stopping. Not until Nancy saw a lighted building outside her window. And the plane rolled right into the building before it stopped.

Even before the plane had stopped, the doors were shutting and the engines were winding down. Nancy felt another shiver. Wherever they were, security and secrecy seemed to be paramount. Cloak and dagger. And she had no idea what this had to do with Frank.

When the door opened, two men — medics? — stepped smartly onto the plane and into the rear compartment. And the man and Dr. Ramirez unbuckled and stood. “Follow me, please,” the man said simply. It was an order, Nancy realized.

Armed guards surrounded the plane. They parted to let the small party through — the man, the doctor, Nancy, Julie, and Frank still unconscious on the stretcher. The man walked to a door which was flanked by more armed guards, their weapons displayed menacingly. He slipped a badge into a card reader, then his fingers played with a keypad. “Ethridge,” he announced solemnly into a small microphone even while he looked into a peephole.

“Identity confirmed.” The computer voice was not friendly.

“Colonel?” the man said to Ramirez. She stepped to the microphone and announced her name while peering into the peephole.

“Identity confirmed. Two level 5 clearances confirmed. Access is permitted.” As the computer voice cut out, the door echoed with the sound of latches retracting, then the door opened automatically.

Beyond the door was a brightly-lit corridor, twenty yards of featureless walls and floor ending in another security door. The group stepped quickly down the hall, where Ethridge and Ramirez repeated their identity confirmation. Another door opened. But this one was the door into a large elevator.

Nancy grasped Julie’s hand tightly. This was very intimidating. Had she known the reason for the security, she might have been less intimidated. Maybe. But she was blindly following two military people into a very secure area. Down a long elevator, which seemed to go on forever. Finally it stopped, and the doors slid open, revealing large a large corridor stretching both directions, punctuated by numerous doors.

The orderlies carrying the stretcher strode purposefully one way. Nancy tried to follow them, but Ethridge blocked her. “Not that way.”

“But Frank…”

“Follow me,” Ethridge said firmly. He turned the other direction and marched to a door, opening it and leading Nancy, Julie, and Dr. Ramirez into a lounge area. “Wait here. If you’re hungry, you can call for service.” He turned and left.

Nancy did what most people would do under the circumstances — she slumped into a chair, exhausted, hungry, angry, confused, and worried. It had only been a few hours, but it seemed like an eternity. And no-one had given her any answers. Her face dropped into her upstretched hands, and she began to sob.

Julie, too, was tired and emotionally spent. She found herself a chair — near enough to her mother to be supportive, but far enough away to be independent. She just sat and glared at Dr. Ramirez, as if everything was the doctor’s fault.

Dr. Ramirez felt embarrassed. Clearly, and understandably, Julie blamed her for these events. And Nancy had been overwhelmed. Not knowing what else to do, the doctor picked up the phone, aware that Julie’s angry gaze was fixed on her, and requested a few things. A few moments later, as if everything had been waiting, a steward, dressed in Air Force blues, carried a tray into the room and set it down, then he retreated quickly.

Dr. Ramirez poured a cup of coffee, then picked up one of the finger sandwiches from the tray. She took the food to Nancy, setting the coffee cup on an end table, then placing the plate with the sandwich on the table. “I bet you’re hungry,” she said matter-of-factly. “I know I am.”

Nancy looked up, then nodded slightly and took the sandwich.

“I hope you like tuna salad. If not, I can order something else.”

Nancy shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” She took a small bite, then realized just how hungry she was, and devoured the sandwich. Julie watched her skeptically, then gave in to her own hunger. When she saw the doctor moving to get her something, Julie stood up and defiantly got her own food and a can of soda to drink. Still glaring at the doctor, she sat down and ate.

Nancy got herself another sandwich while the doctor had a bite. “What is this all about?” she asked, frightened and worried at the same time. “What’s happening to Frank?”

The doctor shook her head and swallowed a bit of sandwich quickly. “I wish I knew.”

Nancy took a sip of coffee. “And why was Ethridge calling you colonel?”

The doctor dropped her gaze momentarily, then looked back at Nancy. “I’m a colonel in the Army Reserve.” She saw Nancy’s eyes, and knew what Nancy must be thinking. “But I promise you, I don’t know any more about this than you do.”

**********

Nearly two hours later, the door opened and Frank came in, walking on his own but accompanied by two orderlies. He looked very tired, and pale. Nancy leaped from her chair and wrapped herself around Frank, relieved to see him again, but also worried about how he looked.

“I’m tired,” he protested weakly, so Nancy helped him sit down.

“Are you hungry?” Nancy asked even as she gestured for Julie to get him something.

Frank nodded, then gratefully took the sandwich and took a big bite. After he finished that, he looked back at Nancy. “I’m sorry to have worried you.” Nancy shook her head, tears flowing slowly down her cheeks again. “I just wish I could tell you what this is all about.”

The door opened again, and Ethridge came in, carrying a laptop computer. Frank saw him, and energy flooded his eyes. “Ethridge!” he spat.

Ethridge nodded, unsmiling, as he set down his computer on a small table. “It’s Colonel Ethridge, now.”

Frank looked intently at Ethridge, then shook his head. “This is impossible,” he finally said. “You’re over sixty! But you don’t look any older than …”

Ethridge nodded. “Than the last time you saw me?” He sat down and carefully opened the laptop, then punched in some data. “Jenkins, Frank T. MOS 10 Bravo 10. Trained at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. Duty station Fort Hood, Texas, with the 2nd Armored Division.”

Frank glanced at his wife, then at the doctor, then looked back at Ethridge. “That’s right.”

Ethridge shook his head. “No, it isn’t.”

Frank’s jaw dropped open. So did Nancy’s and Julie’s. And the doctor.

Ethridge continued. “No, your entire service record is a fabrication. A cover for the experimental program you participated in.”

Frank shook his head, dazed. “But I remember it all! Like it was yesterday! I remember…”

“Too clearly,” Doctor Ramirez finished. Another piece clicked into place. “If you recall, during your sessions I was confused at how clear the memories of your service were.”

Ethridge nodded at the doctor. “Very good, Colonel. You are correct. The memories were programmed after you left our experiment. As cover.”

“This is like the X-files!” Julie exclaimed.

Ethridge glanced at her. “Yes, ma’am, it is. This is very highly classified. Very highly. Only fifteen or sixteen men know of the program.”

Nancy glanced at Frank. “How does this affect us?”

“The program your husband participated in does not exist. This base does not exist. I do not exist.”

Frank’s head was spinning. “But why? How? Why are you involving us?”

The doctor glanced at Ethridge as she spoke. “Because something about the experiment went wrong. And now that error needs to be fixed.”

Nancy’s eyes widened, and she paled. “Are you just going to…”

“Eliminate you?” Ethridge finished. “No, ma’am. We don’t work like that. We know that if you were to tell anyone anything about this facility, you’d be viewed as just another conspiracy nut. Another UFO kook.” Ethridge turned to Frank. “Do you remember being here?”

Frank glanced at Nancy, then shook his head. “No, of course not.”

Ethridge pressed a couple of keys, then read a very cryptic phrase from his computer. As he finished, Frank nearly fainted, and he looked very confused. “Do you remember being here?” Ethridge repeated his question.

Frank looked puzzled. “Of course,” he said simply. “I volunteered for the project.”

The doctor gasped. “His flashbacks — they were suppressed memories! Oh, my God!”

Ethridge nodded slightly. “In 1946, we captured a downed UFO. In the years since, we’ve been studying it, looking for new technologies, new weapons. The project was one of the outgrowths of those studies. Over a period of ten years, we recruited nearly two thousand volunteers to help us understand one of the pieces of technology. As near as we can determine, the aliens had a technology that could alter a body at the cellular and genetic level into any other pattern. This would have probably been used as a disguise for studying primitive cultures. Especially since the machine could also modify the memories and behaviors of the subject. With enough study, the appropriate patterns of behavior could be programmed into the subject, making it virtually impossible to identify the subject as not belonging to the culture being studied.”

Nancy’s eyes were wide as saucers. “So you altered Frank? And others?”

Ethridge nodded. “You have to understand, ma’am, that this was during the height of the cold war. We needed to understand this technology in case the enemy had also acquired it. We also needed to see if it could be used in the interests of national security.” He turned to Frank. “Do you remember the program?”

Frank swallowed, then nodded feebly. “Yeah, I remember.” The words were soft, weak. As if he was remembering something he didn’t want to remember.

**********

Six weeks of basic training down. Six weeks of torture at the hands of a pair of drill sergeants, who seemed to think that making every waking moment a living hell for every draftee was their job. As he walked toward the battalion commander’s office, Frank cursed his luck. He’d gotten a low number, and had been drafted. Frank just knew that he was going to get the scenic tour of Southeast Asia, better known as Viet Nam. He was none too happy as he trudged into the office, pausing to remove his headgear.

The battalion sergeant major just looked at him when he came in, then went back to his paperwork, leaving Frank standing at attention, wondering what to do. Eventually, the BC’s door opened. “Private Jenkins,” the colonel barked.

“Yes, sir,” Frank answered quickly. He followed the colonel into the office.

“Have a seat,” the colonel said as he eased into his own chair. Besides the battalion commander, another colonel and a first sergeant were already seated. Frank took the only open seat, facing the three men. His discomfort level rose.

“You’ve stood out among your training class,” the battalion commander said easily. “So much so that these gentlemen have become interested.”

The other colonel leaned forward. “We have a special research program that requires highly qualified volunteers. You match the profile we’re looking for. So we’re asking if you’d like to join our program.”

Frank felt relief flooding through his body. He’d been wondering what he’d screwed up. “Sir, may I ask a question?” The colonel smiled and nodded. “What’s involved in this program?”

The colonel exchanged a quick glance with the sergeant. “I’m afraid that’s very highly classified. We can’t tell you until you’re actually in the program. We can tell you that it’s a stateside program. And that it is a very light duty assignment.”

Frank quickly weighed his options. Fort Leonard Wood was an infantry training post, and he was training as an infantryman. Which meant a ticket to Nam. On the other hand, this duty would be stateside, but with a few unknown risks. “I think I’ll take you up on it.”

The colonel smiled, rising to shake Frank’s hand. “You won’t regret this,” he assured Frank. “And you’ll be doing a service to your country.”

That was the start of two weeks of testing. Psychological profiles. Physical endurance and flexibility tests. Mental tests. Medical tests of every sort imaginable, and some unimaginable. Frank was certain they’d sampled every body fluid a dozen times or more.

Finally, in the middle of the night, Frank was awakened by the sergeant. “We’re leaving.”

Frank bolted upright, then swung his feet to the floor. Quickly, he donned his uniform and laced up his boots. “Move it,” the sergeant hissed, prodding Frank to begin to gather his personal kit from his locker. The sergeant stopped him. “You’ll be issued new gear at the new post.” Frank shrugged and followed the sergeant out of the barracks. He was puzzled that the normal fire guard was not at his post at the barracks entrance, but filed that fact away for the future.

**********

Frank heard some noise outside the aircraft, and tried to imagine what was happening. Or where they were. He and about twenty other volunteers had boarded a plane in Missouri. Now? No one knew where they were — the plane had no windows. They could be practically anywhere. The mystery was getting on the nerves of some of the men, but Frank found it strangely stimulating. The engines slowed and stopped.

Within a few moments, the door opened and the sergeant, Sergeant Ethridge, stuck his head into the plane. “All right, ride’s over. Formation at the foot of the stairs. Move it!”

The men scrambled out of the plane, taking only moments to organize into a neat line of uniformed soldiers. And Frank noted, to his dismay, that the plane was inside a hanger, and he still had no idea where they were. But he also noticed a large number of armed guards around the inside of the hanger, especially at one door.

Ethridge marched the men out of the hanger, and they realized, to their dismay, that they were in the desert. Somewhere. West Texas? Nevada? New Mexico? Arizona? There were no clues. Only that they were in the desert. And there was absolutely nothing on the horizon, which seemed to stretch to eternity.

Thus was the beginning of many more weeks of testing. More physical fitness tests. Strength and endurance tests. Week after week of mental tests. And more medical tests. The one thing that characterized this base was doctors. Lots of doctors. And lots of guards. But despite the desert heat and lack of a town to visit, the men agreed that the post was better than a foxhole in Nam. Their quarters were even good — better than a college dormitory, and bunked one man to a room. The base had great recreation facilities, to say nothing of the hobby shop and the library. And the women. Lots of women. They seemed to be part of the program, too. But extra measures seemed to have been taken to keep the men separated from the women.

Occasionally, Frank noticed, one of their number would disappear. Vanish in the middle of the night. The men speculated that they were being washed out.

Frank lay awake one night with a dread feeling that something bad was about to happen. He couldn’t identify it, but it was there. And sure enough, his door opened and Ethridge came in.

Frank felt panic trying to take over, and he fought it. “Am I finished with the program?” he asked nervously, knowing that failure here would probably mean a ride back to infantry training.

Ethridge shook his head. “People don’t wash out of this program. It’s time for you to move on to the next phase. Follow me.”

Frank followed Ethridge closely, wanting to ask a million questions, but he knew better. He just kept his mouth shut. They walked silently, under the starlit sky, toward a heavily guarded area. Ethridge showed his ID six or seven times before they actually got into the squat little building. Inside, he used his ID card and a keypad to open another door. Then they got into an elevator, taking them down seemingly into the bowels of the earth.

They exited the elevator into a brightly-lit corridor, and Ethridge walked to one door. “Go in, strip, and drop your clothes in the basket.” Frank shrugged — this wasn’t the first time the Army had asked him to get naked — and stepped into the small room. There was just enough time for him to strip before a knock sounded. Frank realized that there was another door only when it opened. Ethridge stepped into the doorway, now clad in a strange cross between a clean-room bunny suit and surgical scrubs. “Follow me.” Frank shrugged, and stepped quickly after Ethridge.

The room was perhaps the strangest room Frank had ever seen. In the center, a stainless steel surgical table crouched under a strange contraption hanging from the ceiling. Around the odd, alien-looking device, reflector lamps poured their light onto the table. And the walls — more stainless steel. As was the floor. Frank stopped, mildly unnerved by the sinister machine and by the handful of people, attired like Ethridge, standing at the head of the table. Only their eyes were visible, masking them in anonymity, and deepening the mystery for Frank.

Following Ethridge’s directions, Frank climbed onto the cold steel table. The doctors checked his vital signs quickly, then murmured among themselves and stepped back away from the table.

And then the light came on. At the same instant, Frank felt as if his body were fixed in concrete, immovable. The curtain of red light began to move, slowly, toward his feet. And it touched him, searing forever in his mind the terrible agony of every nerve being tortured at once. Up his body the light moved, slowly, painfully. Frank opened his mouth to scream, but no sound would come out. There was only the humming of the alien device and the pain.

**********

Frank snapped awake, and realized that the ordeal was over. He was in a bright room, on a regular mattress, and under a sheet. He sighed with relief that the pain was actually over. For now, at least.

But slowly, Frank realized that he felt strange. Different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on how, but things didn’t seem quite right. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t — his arms were too weak. He lifted his hands, and his eyes widened hi horror as he saw the fine, feminine hands. He lurched up, and felt something on his chest. As he looked down, long auburn hair swirled around his face. He pulled the sheet off his body, and saw. On his chest - two nice perky breasts! Frank screamed, at the hair, the hands, the breasts, and then, the ultimate horror, at his crotch, he saw no dick. Just a vagina. He screamed again — a loud and female noise.

The door burst open, and two orderlies and a doctor rushed in. The doctor quickly gave Frank a shot — some type of sedative. They had been expecting this reaction. Which told Frank that this was real, it wasn’t his imagination. A veil of darkness dropped over Frank.

After a few hours, Frank struggled back to consciousness. He remembered the strange sensations, and he remembered — or did he — being a woman. That couldn’t be right, he told himself. He lifted his hand slowly, gingerly, and brought it around to his face. He wasn’t dreaming. He hadn’t imagined things. His hand — it was fine and delicate and … feminine. He lowered his hand beside his head, and felt a mat of hair — hair that shouldn’t have been there. After all, he thought as he pulled a few strands in front of his face, he had a standard military ‘buzz’ haircut. But the long auburn hair winding through his fingers was no illusion. It was real — he felt a slight tug on his scalp as he pulled his fingers through the hair. Slowly, Frank lifted his head, peering fearfully down toward his toes. But his gaze never got that far — it stopped at the twin lumps on his chest. Frank let his head drop heavily back. The machine. Somehow, it had turned him into a woman. But Frank knew that was impossible.

A doctor came in — a female doctor. “How are you feeling, Miss Jenkins?” she asked cheerfully.

Frank turned slightly and stared at her. She was acting like nothing strange had happened, like she saw men turned into women every day.

“I bet you’re confused, aren’t you,” she said unnecessarily.

“That’s an understatement,” Frank said, his eyes widening at the sound of his soft alto voice.

The doctor smiled. “We find with most patients that the initial adjustment is tough. But it does vary from patient to patient. We’ll monitor you, to see how you cope.”

“Patients?”

The doctor smiled. “Most of your group have already been processed. You were one of the last.”

Frank was starting to understand a few details. This experiment was impossible, but it was happening. Somehow, through the strange alien machine, they were turning the men who’d volunteered into women. But for what?

**********

The doctors started referring to Frank as Tonya, and admonishing him — her — when she tried to refer to herself as Frank. Part of the adjustment, they explained. For the rest of the day, Tonya was watched closely, taught by female staff how to care for her new body.

But the next day brought a shock. A female sergeant awakened Tonya at 4:30, and ordered her to dress. This was very disconcerting for Tonya — she knew nothing about women’s underwear, or dressing, and only the rudiments of feminine grooming and hygiene. The sergeant rode Tonya through the entire process, pushing her, berating her, encouraging her to move more quickly. And the underwear she was given didn’t seem to fit properly — Tonya found it pinching in rather delicate places.

Morning calisthenics. The same routines Frank had done so easily, Tonya found difficult and demanding. Quick breakfast with two other girls — also newly transformed — and then they were given packs and sent on a hike. Tonya was exhausted quickly, as were the two girls — Melanie and Jamie, as they introduced themselves. The pack was heavy, and Tonya lacked the basic body strength she’d had only days before. They got a few moments of rest before lunch, then were given rifles and taken to a range. Frank had scored well on the rifle range, but Tonya did terribly. The rifle kick was too much for her more delicate shoulder, and it was heavy. After a couple of hours of this torture, Tonya and her new friends went to a grenade range. And Tonya was humiliated to find her muscles threw the grenade like a girl.

Finally, as the afternoon wore down, the girls were taken back to a barracks area, similar to the men’s barracks they’d been in, but full of women. And some of the women watched them, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and amusement. Tonya knew that these girls had gone through the same transformation she’d experienced.

Tonya plopped on her bed, tired beyond belief and still confused. And even that was wrong — her new breasts pushed into her chest, reminding her of the change. She rolled over, wanting to cry.

A knock sounded on the door, but Tonya tried to ignore it. The door opened, and another girl poked her head in. “Hi. I’m Julie. We’re having a talk down in the lounge. Wanna come?” Tonya shook her head, fighting back the tears, ashamed of what she’d been turned into. The girl persisted. “Look, we’ve all been through this. We understand. It’ll help to talk with us.” Eventually, Tonya relented. And she found, to her surprise, that it did help, that she felt better talking with her compatriots.

For the next week, the female sergeants and nurses mixed physical training, testing, and instruction in feminine apparel and hygiene. Tonya learned the best way to put on her bra. She learned about toilet cleanliness. She did more physical tests, just like she’d done as Frank. The girls were instructed in the art of applying makeup. They took the same batteries of mental tests, memory tests, and psychological tests. Tonya, Melanie, and Julie were embarrassed when one test asked very pointed questions about sex. With men. In an extreme variety of ways. And all the while, they knew that they were under intense scrutiny, to see how they adjusted to the sudden gender change.

After the first week, the newest group of women were led into a building — a classroom of some sort. They were sitting, lounging, wondering aloud what was going to happen next when a general - female at that - came in and they tried to snap to attention. She had obviously seen this before, since she didn’t laugh at the way some of them clutched big jiggling boobs. The girls sat.

The general explained the program. They were all subjects in a very unique test. Several years ago, the Air Force had come into possession of some alien technology. Now they were finally unraveling its secrets. One of the systems recovered allowed reprogramming of DNA and cellular structure. Possibly used by the aliens to adapt the aliens to suit any planets they might land on. One girl raised her hand - were these things really from flying saucers? The general raised her eyebrow and asked if there were any other way to explain her new body. Some of the other girls tried to laugh, but it was a nervous uncertain laugh. The general explained that the Department of Defense was trying to learn if this could be used for national security. Could this be turned into a weapon. How would soldiers react if they were suddenly transformed into women. Could it be used to give agents cover? What were the implications? The military needed to know, because if our side had recovered this technology, it was entirely possible that the other side had as well.

One of the girls finally mustered the courage to ask the question on everyone’s mind — were they stuck this way? The general smiled and explained that group was to take part in various experiments and tests, but would be restored to their old bodies at the conclusion of their service. The girls began to murmur among themselves - could they really do this? The general smiled a tired smile and explained that the girls had extra incentive to cooperate.

Someone asked what the tests were about. The general smiled again, and noted that some behaviors could be programmed into the alteration; this might be useful for agents working under cover. This group was being studied to see how easily they assimilated female traits and mannerisms.

**********

For a military life, the project was pretty comfortable. The quarters were more than generous by military standards. The days were easy, if intense in training. But it wasn’t conventional training. At least not for Tonya’s group. Others got military training, but her group was instructed in normal womanly arts. Cooking. Sewing. Walking like a lady. Makeup. Class after class in social skills — what to discuss, when to talk about it. Subjects women discussed among themselves, and which men usually didn’t even know the women were talking about.

And there was the subject almost everyone seemed to want desperately to avoid. Sex. The degree of embarrassment about the subject seemed to vary among the former men - some were deeply ashamed whenever the subject came up, but some talked and joked all the time, even wondering aloud what it would be like to get laid. Tonya wondered if somehow the change had affected their attitudes, and if that had been varied deliberately among the subjects. Perhaps they were testing if the adjustment period could be altered with different machine settings. Tonya herself felt uncomfortable about the change and the thought of sex as a woman, but she was able to function in normal day-to-day life. One poor girl, Roberta, was so profoundly humiliated that she had withdrawn. She couldn’t even go to the bathroom without curling up in the fetal position. On the other extreme was ‘Loose Lucy,’ who kept on joking, “I can’t wait to find something to fill me up!” while playing with her new sex.

Despite the embarrassment, the staff made the group talk about sex. Lots of late nights, sitting around like schoolgirls, and talking about boys. Sex. What good girls did and didn’t do. What precautions a girl should take. How to say no. How to fight off aggressive men. And how to say yes. Then there were the biology classes. How their new anatomies worked. What a period was. How to handle the sanitary needs. Tampons. Douches. Napkins. When they were fertile, and when they weren’t based on their cycles.

Which led everyone to fear and dread about their first period. When would it happen? How much discomfort — pain, bloating, cramping — would each of them experience? Tonya awoke one morning feeling very uncomfortable and cramped. She thought about going on sick call, but didn’t. Through the day, she felt worse and worse — her shoes seemed too tight, her skirt was too tight on her waist, her stomach seemed to get more and more tender as the day went on. By the end of the day, Tonya knew she should have gone on sick call. And then, after dinner, she went to the bathroom, and discovered to her shock that her panties were stained and bloody.

If it hadn’t been for the classes and preparation, Tonya would have panicked. As it was, her scream was muted — more of a cry of disbelief. One of the sergeants came running at the sound. Tonya expected a tongue-lashing, or some joking at her expense. Instead, she got some genuine woman-to-woman concern and caring. After she was cleaned up, she stepped into the hall to go to her room. Heads were peering out of every door, staring at her. Tonya felt very self-conscious, knowing that everyone knew what was going on. She put her head down and strode quickly to her room to avoid the prying stares. Within moments, a knock sounded at her door. Before she could rise, three other women came in. They spent some time comforting Tonya, talking, explaining their own periods and how they coped. Their own discomfort. They talked about how their fears compared to the reality they’d experienced. By the time they left, Tonya felt much better about herself. And unknown to any of the girls, the entire episode had been taped, so the psychologists could analyze how the group as a whole, and the individuals, were coping with the changes, how they were helping each other adjust.

**********

Frank paused, taking a sip of water. He looked deathly pale, and the effort of raising a glass to his lips seemed to sap his reserves of strength. The doctors quickly noted that they had to take care of Frank now — that he couldn’t go on much longer. But Frank found a reserve of strength in defiance. “No,” he said very firmly. “Nancy, Julie - they have a right to know. And I’m going to tell them.”

Looking concerned, the doctors sat back down, watching Frank carefully. Dr. Ramirez knew that Frank was running out of time, but she also knew that he was determined to tell his tale, to let his wife and daughter know of the demons which had been chained inside his mind.

**********

By the end of six weeks, the staff had noticed which girls were taking extra time in their bathroom chores. So had the group. There was snickering whenever someone screamed or moaned too loud during a girl’s first session of masturbating. And knowing looks among some of the girls, looks which were almost a welcome to the woman’s orgasm club. Tonya remembered vividly her first time — she’d touched her breasts a lot after the first couple of weeks — after all, Frank had loved boobs. But she’d very carefully avoided touching her new sex except for hygienic reasons. After hearing Lucy’s talk about the joys of female orgasms, and blatantly advertise her intentions of trying sex with a man at the first chance she got, Tonya was afraid of trying anything. She was afraid that she might find it too enjoyable, too enticing, and might start down the same man-crazed path Lucy seemed to be on.

Eventually, though, Tonya couldn’t help herself. Curiosity, coupled with a few weeks of adjustment, finally got the better of her. Late one evening, after she was sure everyone was asleep, Tonya began to explore. Cupping and teasing one sensitive nipple with one hand, she let her other hand wander downward, until it was touching her crotch. Slowly, carefully, and involuntarily, her hand explored, touching every part of her anatomy. She relished the joy of touching herself, sliding her fingers deep inside herself, feeling the pleasure radiating outward from her sex. As she explored, she began to breathe faster, harder, her breathing turning without her knowledge into soft moans as the pleasure built and built within her. And as the explosion of her first orgasm overtook her, her moans, by now loud, turned to soft screams of pleasure. After the first orgasm rocked her, Tonya stopped, expecting something comparable to a male experience. But as the rippling pleasure began to weaken, Tonya moved her hand, and the sensations leaped back to their peak, startling Tonya pleasantly. Within seconds, she had herself rippling with another orgasm, and then another, and another….

Tonya slipped down the hall to the bathroom, knowing that she was a mess. To her relief, no doors opened, and the bathroom was empty. Feeling flushed at her newfound pleasure, yet embarrassed at how noisy she’d been, Tonya crept back into the hall. A couple of doors opened, just a crack, peering out to see who’d been making all the noise; Tonya knew she’d been caught. And yet, a part of her didn’t care. She didn’t know just how well she’d been adjusting to being a woman.

Lucy was the first to get laid, much as everyone expected. To the surprise of no-one, she was positively glowing after her first experience. And then, practically every night, she slipped out of the barracks, returning much, much later, and then regaling the group the next day with the variety of techniques she’d tried. Most of the girls were horrified at her behavior, a couple vowing never to try it. Some, however, had already moved on to new experimentation. Tonya had been surprised when, during a shower, Julie touched her breast playfully. Before Tonya could protest, Melanie began to kiss Tonya. At first, Tonya was reluctant, but slowly, she felt her own hands caressing Melanie. More and more aggressively, Tonya and Melanie began to explore each other, seemingly unaware or uncaring that they were in the public shower area. With the water still running, they sank to the floor, touching, kissing, caressing each other, ending up in a 69.

The next day, Tonya found herself summoned, unexpectedly, to the clinic. To the psychologist’s office. And Tonya realized that she and Melanie had no secret — the psychologist talked at length with her about the experience. Why it might be normal for a man, who’d been changed, to make love to a woman first. Why Tonya might still be attracted to women, which would make it less objectionable, more natural to her. Tonya felt the humiliation of knowing that this little episode had been monitored, observed, and was now being clinically dissected to determine her thoughts from the encounter, how it was or was not part of her adjustment. It was a brutal reminder that she was part of an experiment, a guinea pig for the military.

**********

After a couple of months, poor Roberta was removed. She’d not adjusted at all, despite the caring ministrations of the entire group. When the girls returned from a class, they noted that Roberta’s room was empty. And no amount of prying could get the staff to divulge her fate. She was gone. Period. End of discussion. The group as a whole suffered from Roberta’s absence; her fate could have easily been that of any of them. Tonya found herself unable to sleep that night, tossing and turning and wondering what her own fate was to be, whether she was to end up like Roberta. Finally, her cheeks tear-stained, she rose and crept down the hall in her teddy, knocking softly on Melanie’s door. When Melanie cracked the door, Tonya knew that Melanie had been crying too. Morning found Tonya and Melanie cuddled together on Melanie’s bed, comforting each other to cope with the loss and the uncertainty.

**********

It wasn’t long before the girls began to divide up into little cliques, circles that quickly bonded into close friendships. Melanie, her sometimes lesbian lover, Julie, Carmelita, the lone Hispanic girl in the group, and surprisingly, Lucy, formed Tonya’s little circle. Except for Lucy’s heightened interest in men, the girls all shared similar interests and classes. Tonya couldn’t help wondering if this was yet another part of the testing. Late nights, they’d often gather in one room, watching television, listening to the radio, and talking about what they wanted to do if they ever got an off-post pass. As the weeks passed, the talk increasingly would turn to sex, and Lucy, the self-styled expert, reminded the girls of just how much they were missing. After about three months, Carmelita shocked the others — except Lucy — when she joined Lucy’s discussion of just how wonderful it felt to have something large inside her as she orgasmed. When pressed, she admitted sheepishly that she’d never been fucked, but she had begun to play with a dildo. She produced it, and Tonya found herself both intrigued and repulsed by the massive imitation male organ.

Tonya realized, from Melanie’s reaction to the plastic penis, that Melanie was probably never going to have sex with a man, that she was a lesbian. But Tonya — she found herself getting more and more curious. Finally one evening, Tonya worked up her courage and asked Carmelita, privately, if she could borrow her toy. It took all her resolve and courage, but Tonya used the device. It was with a very satisfied smile that she returned it to Carmelita, knowing that she was going to have to procure one for herself. And realizing, to her shock, that it was only a matter of time until she ended up with a real man inside her.

**********

For the first couple of months, the new girls had been kept strictly segregated, possibly even more so that nuns in a convent. Lucy had found a way to outwit the restrictions, or so she’d thought, but Tonya was increasingly convinced that the guards and restrictions were mysteriously removed so Lucy could have her nightly escapades, so the psychologists could study her.

After the restrictions were eased, the girls went exploring around the post — the PX, the theater, and the NCO club. And they began to experience having men look at them. Tonya almost withdrew into the recesses of her mind the first time a man made a lewd and suggestive comment to her; it was a pointed reminder that she was indeed an attractive young woman who men would want to fuck. She wasn’t prepared for it. Most of the other girls experience this as well, but they helped each other out. Over the weeks, Tonya and the others began to use their femininity, deliberately enticing and teasing the men, dressing in shorter and shorter skirts, and low-cut blouses just to get a rise out of the guys. After all, Tonya knew, they were just acting. There was no way they were going to do anything with these guys.

One hot afternoon, Tonya and her friends were waiting in line for some ice cream. Lucy was the one who noticed the guy sitting alone, eyeing Tonya. She mentioned it to Tonya, who scoffed at the idea. And yet… After they got her ice cream, Tonya walked slowly past the young man. She stopped suddenly and turned, and saw him blush as he quickly turned away, having been caught watching her. Tonya felt sorry for him — she’d deliberately tried to humiliate him. And he looked so shy and alone — just another average guy stationed far away from home. Not a self-assured macho stud convinced he was a gift to women. Not an athletic type. Just an average guy. Then she realized she was thinking of him the way a girl would think about a guy. She hastened out of the ice cream shop, trembling.

A week later, she bumped into the young man again, this time in line for tickets to a movie. Again, he was shy, but Tonya kept from trying to embarrass him. Instead, she struck up a conversation. And by the time they got to the ticket booth, the young man bought two tickets.

Two weeks after her first date, Tonya found herself with the young man in his car, parked high on a mountain as they watched the sun set in a spectacular display of colors over another peak. Tonya felt a mix of emotions as his arm slipped around her shoulder — excitement, uncertainty about where this might lead, fear about having sex as a woman. But when the guy began to caress her breasts, Tonya lost all her inhibitions and gave in to her curiosity. With mounting excitement, she let herself be undressed, moaning softly with her increasing need as his hand slipped down inside her skirt.

Tonya knew that the backseat of a 68 Camaro convertible was neither comfortable nor roomy, but that didn’t stop her. She went wild with her need and her curiosity, practically stripping the guy’s clothes as his touching sent her way past the edge of orgasms. He entered her roughly, clumsily, eagerly, and she was just as eager to take him. And she entered fully into her womanhood.

**********

She dated and had sex with Jerry for nearly three months, until he got new orders. For quite a while, Tonya was in a funk, depressed at missing Jerry, wondering about herself at missing a guy and missing the sex, wondering if she’d every be able to be a normal guy when the experiment ended. But her friends helped her carry on. And she resorted to having sex with Melanie for a while, even though it was a poor substitute. Still, Melanie was better able to be close after sex than Jerry. Maybe it was true about men wanting only to sleep after sex. After a couple of months, Tonya let Julie and Lucy set her up for a date. And she regretted it. Julie was becoming more like Lucy, and their taste in men centered on size and endurance. The only thing he wanted was sex, and Tonya was left feeling cheap and unsatisfied.

But she did start dating again, although she carefully avoided anything that might hint at a serious relationship. Tonya wanted a fun time, a nice date, and no regrets if there was no phone call the next day.

**********

Tonya felt the tears stinging her eyes as she shuffled back to the barracks. How could she have been so stupid? How could this have happened? Why her? Why now? There were only seven months to go in the experiment. And now this. She slipped into her room, leaning against the door heavily as the tears began to flow freely. Eventually, she sank onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow, sobbing heavily.

She was still crying in her pillow when a knock sounded on her door. When she didn’t answer, the door opened and Carmelita peeked in. She was genuinely concerned — Tonya never missed the weekly get-together. Until now. When Tonya didn’t answer her, Carmelita slipped in and eased herself onto the edge of the bed. Still, Tonya didn’t want to talk. Carmelita slipped out, only to return in a few minutes with the others — Lucy, Julie, and Melanie. Finally, after a lot of reassurances from her friends, Tonya blurted it out — she was pregnant. After a long awkward silence, Melanie asked what Tonya was going to do. That caused a new burst of tears from Tonya. She didn’t know.

It became abundantly clear in the next few days that the Army didn’t know what to do, either. The doctors were very afraid of how a pregnancy might affect Tonya, and her ability to return to being a normal man. They were afraid that, since the change process was still unknown, a normal pregnancy might not be possible — that the baby might be some half-alien monster. The psychologists, however, wanted to see how Tonya adapted to pregnancy, to continue the experiment. The arguments went on for nearly a month, all the while Tonya was subject to test after test, trying to find anything and everything about the pregnancy - how she was handling it, how she felt, how her physiology was adapting, comparing her to a normal woman, and so on.

In the end, Tonya decided. Despite the doctors’ concerns, she was not going to abort the child. She was going to have the baby. The psychologists asked if she intended to keep the baby, if she knew that would mean staying a woman for the rest of her life. Tonya looked down, not sure of her answer to that, but eventually, she looked up defiantly and declared that even if she had to give the baby up for adoption, she was going to have it. Terminating the pregnancy was against every fiber of her moral beliefs.

For another two weeks, the arguments continued. Generals flew in from the Pentagon to deal with this new crisis — the flurry of flights and multi-starred vehicles was in striking contrast to the slow pace of this otherwise sleepy base. Everyone knew something was up, and it didn’t take long for news of Tonya’s predicament to spread. Now she was aware of stares — some sympathetic, some curious, some judgmental. Tonya began to feel more and more isolated, more alone.

Finally, Tonya won the day with her decision to have the baby. In a way, she used the scientists’ and doctors’ own curiosity against them. They’d never had a test subject get pregnant, so they’d naturally never studied it. Despite their concerns for her well being, their curiosity was a weapon Tonya tweaked, convincing them that this was a unique opportunity not to be wasted. That swung their collective scientific curiosity, and they, in turn, swung the opinions of the brass. The pregnancy would continue. But only if Tonya gave the baby up for adoption after the birth, and then was changed back to Frank.

**********

Everyone knew that the experiment was almost over — a few of the girls had vanished, and everyone knew they’d been changed back to men. For all of the girls, the light at the end of the tunnel was visible. Except for Tonya. She had at least two more months than the rest of them.

Lucy was the one who came up with the idea of the baby shower. It was a total surprise to Tonya, and she cried freely at the love her friends were showing. Even though the baby gifts would go unused. She was having the baby, but she wasn’t going to be its mother. Still, the sentiment was overwhelming. And in her heart, Tonya knew that this was also a good-bye party. Despite their reassurances, the girls all knew that they might never see each other again. This was almost the end. There wasn’t a dry eye by the time the party ended.

Over the next few weeks, the girls vanished in ones and twos in the middle of the night. Finally, there were only a few of them left, including Tonya and Melanie. Melanie made a scene with the base commander and the doctors, demanding that she be allowed to remain with Tonya, to help her through the pregnancy. Of course, the doctors would have none of it, and so, one night, Melanie vanished as well. Tonya was well and truly alone.

The final two months of her pregnancy were a living hell for Tonya. She had no friends around her for comfort. She had to endure battery after battery of tests. She lived alone in the empty barracks, reminded each and every day of the loneliness, only the occasional kicks of her baby to let her know that she wasn’t really alone.

And then one day, she felt something. A cramp? Tonya ignored it, as used to the constant discomfort as she was getting. But then there was another. And another. They were well spaced, but definitely regular. Tonya called the clinic, and was rushed to the hospital.

Tonya remembered the pain of the contractions as they grew stronger and closer. A nurse tried to help her with her breathing as the labor progressed. This was obviously the big event at the base — the base commander stopped by to see how Tonya was doing, and every doctor and nurse seemed to be in the room at some time or another. When she finally started pushing, the room seemed overly full of spectators; the chief obstetrician finally shoed most of the unneeded people out, leaving Tonya with relative peace. Sweating, panting, her face contorted with the pain of the contractions, Tonya pushed and pushed. And she felt the sudden relief as the baby slid from her birth canal into the doctor’s waiting arms.

Tonya hugged her little girl closely, kissing her forehead. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks at the miracle she’d just been a part of. But Tonya knew it was going to end. Soon. Despite her protests, her urgent pleas to let her stay a woman and keep her baby, the doctors finally took the little girl from her. Through her tears, Tonya said a quick prayer for her little girl, praying that she’d find a good loving family to care for her.

Her heart heavy, Tonya walked slowly down the corridor, deep in the bowels of the earth, knowing what was going to happen. It was over. Like a dream, but not like a dream. Two years of her life — all the laughter and friendship and love and heartbreak — it was nearly over. Without instruction, Tonya stripped and climbed onto the table, that same terrible table that Frank had climbed onto two years ago to start this whole adventure. She closed her eyes, then opened them and told the doctor to get it over with.

**********

Frank collapsed into his chair, the doctors monitoring his vital signs closely. The strain of telling his tale had been incredible, and he seemed to be barely alive.

Nancy was the first to speak. “That sounds impossible!” she finally said, voicing her disbelief.

Dr. Ramirez nodded slowly. “I assume his memories were hypnotically suppressed, and the ‘false memories’ were programmed?” Ethridge nodded slowly. “But why are we here now?”

Nancy and Julie looked at her, then at Ethridge. They, too, were curious. Why were they here?

Sadness crept into Ethridge’s eyes. “We made a mistake with the experiments,” he finally said softly. “There were some settings we didn’t understand. We do now, but it’s too late for Frank. And his group.”

“What sort of mistake?” Nancy’s voice had an edge to it.

Ethridge closed his eyes momentarily. “The changes were not just physical. They affected the fundamental being of each person. Appearance, genetic structure, cellular structure, memories, though processes. Everything. And there was a built-in time limit. We didn’t know about it.”

“What kind of time limit?”

Ethridge paused as the doctors loaded Frank into a stretcher and carried him from the room. “Two years was too long. Some of the processes aren’t reversible after that long.” He stood and paced nervously. “The biochemical changes in the brain are in direct conflict with the original structure.” He turned slowly, and Nancy was amazed at the pain in his eyes. “Frank’s entire body is literally tearing itself apart, fighting to resume what it thinks is its normal shape.”

“And the flashbacks are the suppressed memories and biochemical processes reasserting themselves,” Dr. Ramirez said with sickening certainty. Ethridge nodded.

“How long?” Nancy asked simply.

Ethridge shook his head. “We don’t know for certain, especially since Tonya’s pregnancy was a wild-card, but we estimated that your husband would have had only a couple of months. But he would have gone insane before then.”

Nancy felt Julie grasping her arm tightly, a gasp of pain and shock escaping her lips. “Oh, God!” she cried, then she buried her head in Julie’s shoulder and began to cry.

“Ma’am,” Ethridge interrupted sharply, drawing Nancy’s attention. “We brought Frank here to save him.”

Nancy’s eyes brightened with hope, but Dr. Ramirez felt a chill. “But you said his form was trying to revert…” Suddenly, her eyes widened as she realized the awful truth. Ethridge watched the slow dawning of her understanding, then nodded slowly.

Nancy didn’t understand. “What are you talking about? How can you save Frank?” She glanced from Ethridge to Ramirez, then back to Ethridge. She saw the sadness in both of their eyes.

Julie understood before her mother. “You’re going to bring back Tonya?” she asked cautiously, fearful of the answer she knew she was going to get.

Ethridge felt a lump in his throat. Despite all the training and practice and his professionalism. “Yes, ma’am,” he finally said softly.

“But…” Nancy wanted the hope of saving Frank, but as Tonya?

“Ma’am,” Ethridge said softly, “if we don’t change him back, Frank will die. There is nothing we can do to stop that. And it will be a slow, painful, agonizing death. I don’t think you want to condemn him to that, do you?”

Nancy stared for a moment, then dropped her gaze. “Of course not,” she answered softly.

**********

The table. The same steel table in the stainless steel room. With the familiar and alien contraption still fastened to the ceiling above it. He tried to move, but he was too weak. He felt the medics lifting him onto the table, felt the cold steel against his naked body. He knew what was going to happen — the light and the pain. The pain that made a person want to die to end it. And he knew that he’d die without it. He glanced around the room with his eyes, and he saw a familiar face, unmasked this time. The same face he’d seen twice before. And he saw two other faces — a woman with a strange sad expression, tears running down her cheeks, and a shorter girl, holding the woman tightly, her own face struggling to not show her emotions. He moved his eyes again, and saw the man nod. The light came on, the alien curtain of red. Slowly, it moved toward his toes, and he flinched inwardly, knowing what was going to happen.

**********

Nancy opened the door cautiously, peeking into the room. Clearly, she had no idea what to expect.

“Hi, Nancy,” a cheery but weak voice called out. Nancy stepped through the door. And she gasped. “Bit change, isn’t it,” the voice sounded.

Nancy stepped to the foot of the bed, surveying the patient. “Not what I expected,” she said uneasily. The patient was in her early twenties. Long wavy auburn hair, soft brown eyes. Pretty. “To be honest,” Nancy said finally, “I didn’t know what to expect, Frank.”

The patient smiled. “Tonya. Remember?” She still looked weak, but much more alive than when Nancy had last seen Frank.

For a long time, they just stared at each other, each unsure what to say. Both had a million questions. Finally, Tonya spoke. “Now what do we do?”

Nancy turned sharply so Tonya wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Are you going to try to find your daughter?”

Tonya looked down. “I can’t,” she finally said softly. “She’s as old as I am. How do I explain being her mother?” She felt tears in her own eyes. She knew that she’d forever lost a part of her life. Multiple parts. Her daughter. Nancy. And Julie. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of her losses.

Dr. Ramirez came in with Julie, a welcome distraction for the two women. Julie stopped and stared. “Dad?” she finally asked.

Tonya tried to smile. “Not any more, dear,” she said sadly. “You’re going to have to start calling me Tonya.”

Dr. Ramirez noted how stiffly they were interacting, how uneasy they all were with the enormous changes. “It’s going to take some time for you all to get used to this.”

Nancy turned to the doctor. “So what do we do? Go home and try to pretend nothing happened?” She sounded suddenly angry.

Dr. Ramirez understood Nancy’s frustration and anger. She’d just lost her husband, even though he was alive but as a young woman. Julie had lost her dad. Frank had lost a wife and two daughters. “No,” she said. “You can’t do that. But we can help.”

Nancy stared at her for a moment. “How? Haven’t you done enough already?”

Dr. Ramirez ignored the insult. “Frank’s body is going to be discovered in a serious car wreck. You will identify the body, and everyone will know you’re a widow. You’re going to find that there is a large insurance policy on Frank, and you’ll be pretty much set for the rest of your lives.”

“And me?” Tonya asked meekly.

Dr. Ramirez smiled at her. “You’re one of the beneficiaries of the insurance policy, so you can start over. We’ll provide all the records you need, of course.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think the best thing would be for you to move into an apartment near your old home. You can get all get used to Tonya while I help with some counseling. Eventually,” she paused, “Tonya may go her own way, but for right now…”

Tonya smiled. “I think I’d like that.” She glanced warily at Nancy and Julie. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

Nancy smiled. “That might be nice.” She turned to Julie, her eyes questioning.

Julie looked at her mother, then at Tonya. “If you can’t be my dad, maybe you can be my friend?”

**********
A thin brunette sat in a stuffed chair, waiting for her turn. Presently, Nancy and Julie left Tonya’s room. As they walked past, the brunette stood up and walked uneasily toward Tonya’s room. She paused, then pushed open the door and walked stiffly in. As soon as she saw Tonya, tears began to well up in her eyes.

Tonya looked up sharply when she heard the door open. And then she recognized the intruder. Tears sprung from her eyes. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, holding her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Melanie!”

Dr. Ramirez smiled as Melanie rushed to the bed, crying freely as she hugged her friend. It was just what Tonya needed now — some connections. All of her connections had been shattered in the space of a few moments. A past had been resurrected, only to have parts of it dashed from her forever. And her life as Frank had been torn mercilessly from her.

**********

Dr. Ramirez sighed heavily as she sank into the chair. It had been a long day. “I think they’re going to do well,” she said. She reached up and accepted the cup of coffee.

Ethridge sat in his own chair, looking weary. “Good.”

Dr. Ramirez sipped her coffee, staring at the wall. Finally, she turned to Ethridge. “How many?”

Ethridge was staring at the same wall. “Four thousand five hundred twenty.”

Ramirez whistled. “Good God!” Then she thought of Frank. “How many are like Frank? How many have you lost?”

Ethridge continued to stare. “One hundred seventeen suicides. Eighty four natural deaths. One thousand fourteen deaths from CDS — change degeneration syndrome.”

Ramirez stared in shock. “You’ve even got a name for it?”

Ethridge nodded slowly. “Of the rest, just over eight hundred have been changed.”

Ramirez stared at the man, unable to fathom the sheer numbers. “Was it worth it?” she finally asked.

Ethridge turned to her, his eyes burning with a strange light. “Yes,” he answered firmly. “Yes it was. With this tool, we’ve infiltrated and stopped five major terrorist cells. We’ve prevented one chemical and two biological attacks in the United States. We’ve infiltrated virtually every intelligence organization in the world. We’ve broken the back of the most ruthless Islamic terrorist organization in the world.” He smiled. “It’s amazing how cooperative a fundamentalist is when he’s about to be raped as a woman.” He turned back to the wall. “So yes, despite the cost, it was worth it.”

FIN

Kudos

Comments

"A slow, painful, agonizing death"

"it will be a slow, painful, agonizing death. I donâ€™t think you want to condemn him to that, do you?â€

I can actually relate to that. It took me being just about suicidal before I would move forward with a transition

Much much too hard.

I had to take breaks while reading this. The emergence of my own transition felt like a nightmare. You captured the disintegration of a man's life. It felt real, too real.

Now I get it

Scary story given some of the things that went on during the Cold War. I noticed the Col. didn't address how he didn't look any older. I just bet he thinks it was worth all those people dying and hurting because of what the Army did. Sigh...
Hugs
Grover

Worth it?

Is it worth sacrificing ten lives to save eleven? Look at it the other way around. Is it worth sacrificing the eleven so save the ten?

Rarely are we called to sacrifice our lives for others. Usually, we are called to risk our lives for others. I answered that call when I joined the Army in 1979. Police and firemen answer that call every day. On 9/11/01, a number of people answered that call, knowing that the chance of survival was slim.

The men in that program weren't sacrificed. They were asked to take a risk, and they accepted. Some were more fortunate than others.

Was it worth it?

It was to the many thousands or maybe millions who were saved -- even if they never knew that they were in danger. It was especially worth it if it saved the country from eventual collapse.

Everyone who volunteers for military service knows this.

Wow!

I honestly don't know what to say. I know this is a fictitious story, but is it really? It's just crazy enough to be real, and if so sign me up! Great story Elrod! (Hugs) Taarpa

Wow!

Great story!

It isn't very often that you see a story with so much depth. It gives the reader a lot to think about.

I really appreciate the way that the military was portrayed. They have a serious life and death mission that must come first, but they do their best to take care of their people. It is my experience that the military, for the most part, works like that.

Flashbacks is a sad reminder

Flashbacks is a sad reminder that assholes such as Ethridge will destroy a soldier or a platoon instead of volunteering to be his own lab rat

Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Almost believeable

It is a scary tale told in great detail. It seems to be a typical army/male thing that would be used without fully understanding the ramifications or fully reading the "manual". Only now, a generation later, are they more understanding of the consequences of their actions and attempting to "fix" it. Thanks Elrod for a most enthralling tale. Jo.

Flashbacks

Comments

"A slow, painful, agonizing death"

Much much too hard.

Now I get it

Worth it?

Wow!

Wow!

Flashbacks is a sad reminder

Almost believeable

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