Covid 19 and counting.

List of Characters.

Terry Harrington. Fugitive boy marked for compulsory transitioning.

Samantha, (Sam) First transitioned kid Terry meets on the streets.

Theodora (Dora) leader of the transitioned kid gang.

Jessica. (Jessie) The only neo-natal girl in Dora’s gang.

Terry Harrington woke slowly as the numbing cold bit through his face and hands. The night before he had been ecstatic to have found a dead vagrant wrapped in a sleeping bag that on inspection, proved to be not too badly damaged. It had been the early evening and he had realised that as the sun was setting his usual crash had been taken by a largish vagrant who looked as though he could have beaten Terry to a pulp with a single blow.

Resigned to a possible early death from the bitter cold, he had sneaked away to try his luck elsewhere.

The reason Terry had found himself homeless was because the authorities had recently selected him for compulsory transitioning consequent upon the recently confirmed long term side effects on male sperm.

After noticing that there seemed to be a slow but catastrophic fall in female births over the last few decades, the authorities in all countries had eventually determined that the Covid 21 virus, a mutation of the Covid 19 virus; had stopped the production of X sperms in the male semen of all infected males.

Furthermore, the Covid 21 virus had proved to be an infinitely more virulent and infective strain than it’s progenitor and when it appeared, it had broken out to infect the world population long before the first symptoms began to manifest themselves.

Countries that now had stringent and effective arrangements to nail such viruses early, were shocked to learn that millions of people worldwide were already infected before the first victims began to manifest any symptoms.

Firstly, after desperate efforts to stem the virus, governments world-wide had been forced to conclude that the only solution would be to isolate uninfected males and ‘milk’ them of their sperm in sterile isolation. This meant containing those uninfected males in what were in reality, prisons; albeit comfortable prisons even with female companionship but nevertheless, they were prisons.

Unfortunately, for the human race, Covid 21 proved to be infinitely more adaptable and mobile than it’s forebearer and one by one, the ‘sperm-donor’ prisons became infected until the day came when the last sperm bank had become infected. A new strategy had to be found; for after forty years of Covid 21, the viable female population to support the continuation of the human race had collapsed below that nadir of sustainability. The human race was on its way out.

The last gasp strategy had been re-examine the transgender option and return to research involving altering some of the male population by hormone therapy prior to puberty. This was combined with the implantation of various animal uteruses, usually simian, and hope by advancing the chemical suppression of organ rejection there might be an avenue of rescue for the human race. Eventually, after a concentrated, co-ordinated world-wide effort, a medical solution had been partially effected but it was exceptionally risky for the transitioned male children.

Research had determined the profile of the children most likely to benefit from the transitioning therapy but even then there were nowhere near enough likely male candidates and many millions of unsuitable male candidates were thrown into the ‘melting pot’ simply to boost the numbers of suitable ‘wombs’ to carry human foetuses to successful term.

Nevertheless, any male child who fitted the potentially successful profile was automatically selected for compulsory transition before puberty. Terry Harrington was one of those boys.

ooo000ooo

That fateful afternoon as Terry dodged and swerved around the defending full-back to score a spectacular goal, two visitors approached the games master to ask.

“Which one is Terry Harrington?”

The games master turned with a smile but the smile faded as he recognised the pair. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to remark.

“He’s the ‘pocket-rocket’ that just left that larger full-back and the goal-keeper for dead. Did you see the swerve on the boy.”

“We need to speak to him after school this afternoon. Which bus does he take to get home?”

The games master was no lover of the necessary government policy that forced them to literally pluck any seemingly suitable child out of the ranks and forcibly transition them without any respect for the child’s rights. Sadly, he had been waiting with a sickening certainty for the axe to fall on Terry Harrington for, despite being a remarkably athletic and nimble footballer, the boy was small and regretfully displayed a somewhat feminine nature at other times off the playing field. Nevertheless, he was compelled by law to assist the government agents because of the immensely important issues surrounding human survival. With a sickening sense of inevitability, the master advised the agents.

“He takes the number four bus that goes via the main A’ class road to Highton. I’m sure you’ll already have his address; have you informed his parents?”

The agents turned to leave and failed to notice that the ever alert Terry Harrington had already copped them talking to the games master.

“What where they doing here sir?” he asked the games master; already anticipating the answer.

“I think you already know Terry.”

“Shit, shit, shit! Why me? I’m good at sport and academic stuff.”

“Good gracious Terry! I’ve never heard you use language like that before. You surprise me.”

“You’ve never seen me angry before sir. Why me, why, why, why?”

“I’m so sorry lad, It’s cruel necessity. Being a girl is not all bad and you’ll get treated very well.”

“Huh, only if I start producing brats like some sort of breeding sow. You know we’re not allowed to go to further education until we’ve produced at least three babies. That puts us years behind the boys in higher education. How many girls get to make it in their mid-twenties?”

“Well I’m so sorry for you Terry. Unfortunately, you fit the profile just too perfectly and they’ll have your profile stats to hand as they do every child.”

“Yeah, cos’ of the dammed micro-chips. Why don’t adults carry microchips?”

“They’ve only just introduced them in the last sixteen years; after they developed the womb transplant technology. They’ve been harvesting female human eggs for years now but the gestation technology was the last hurdle they’ve managed to clear. It’s expected that with the new gene splicing technology and chromosome technology, we’ll soon be seeing natal female babies again.”

“But it’s still not a solution is it. Until they find some way of blocking Covid 21 from fucking with human sperm we’ll have to continue with this transitioning thing for all eternity.”

“Language Terry! You’ll not be expected to use language like that when you transition!”

“You mean IF I transition!” Terry thought to himself for already, he was planning somehow to avoid it.

When the school day ended, Terry Harrington was already several miles away from the school. He’d skipped the last two lessons and gone AWOL for every child was familiar with the stratagems the government agents used. Wait at the bus stop and grab the boy then take him to his home to explain to the parents that their particular son had been selected for transitioning.

There was no argument, if their son had been deemed suitable and the child’s DNA matched the criteria then so be it. Tony Harrington had been selected for transition but unfortunately, Tony Harrington was not there.

“Has he been home Mrs Harrington?”

“No. I was expecting him off the bus this past twenty minutes. What did you say to him?”

“We have not spoken to him at all. We saw him at school playing football then he disappeared.”

“If he saw you then he’ll probably have absconded. He was always terrified of this because he’s small and dare I say it, somewhat effeminate.”

“Well that’s two of the main reasons he fits the profile.

“Yes, but the trouble is, he’s extremely good at sport, especially football, and he’s dammed good at Maths and Sciences. The last thing he wanted was to turned into a brood mare and spend his teens breeding babies. If he’s gone AWOL, I hold you, the government responsible.”

“Whether were culpable or not. He’s still been selected and there’s no chance of a reprieve. The welfare of the human race is the big issue not the whim of an individual.”

The argument became irrelevant at this juncture because the government agents admitted that if the child was not there then legal arguments were immaterial. They left feeling confident that the child’s material needs would soon drive him out from cover and they would eventually find their quarry.

ooo000ooo
By nightfall, Terry was over a dozen miles away and beginning to feel hungry. He was slightly angry with himself for failing to prepare for his ordeal but was forced to accept that his circumstances had not allowed for preparation. Furthermore, his school uniform was a dead give-away if he was going to succeed in going underground.

He had heard of other boys managing to escape ‘the net’ as the selection process was known but for the life of him, Terry had no idea how or where this invisible underground was to be contacted. Consequently, he virtually slept where he fell as the midnight hour struck.

Morning found him cold, hungry and stiff as he took stock of his whereabouts. Lowing cattle dragged him out of his fitful sleep and when he looked around he realised he was inside some sort of remote barn with fields all around then a farm-house some three fields away where the noise of cattle calling to be milked had disturbed him. Cautiously, for it was still pretty dark, he sneaked towards the farm just as a figure appeared in the yard and promptly started gathering the cattle.

Having realised that it was a large dairy farm, Terry concluded that if he could somehow get a drink of milk, it would go a long way to assuaging his hunger.

Cautiously he reconnoitred the milking parlour and soon concluded that the milk was automatically transferred to a large tank to await collection. Later he watched the dairy-maid adjust some taps and take a sample of the milk. After running what looked like density tests or some sort of quality check he watched her take a sampling bottle and de-cant the sample before sealing it and labelling it for collection. She then returned to the farmhouse and Terry seized his chance.

He quickly took an empty sampling bottle and filled it from the testing valve before gulping it down, then, after assuaging his immediate thirst he filled two sample bottles and quickly made himself scarce. The mild tided him over until the evening when he came upon a small village and decided to do something about a disguise. As the shadows gathered, he cased the village for washing lines and spotted a couple of likely opportunities. One line had a dress drying while the other had a girl’s jersey supported on a coat-hanger.

“Easy pickings,” he concluded as he waited for the dark. When it came, he wasted no time stealing the articles then swiftly made himself scarce. His theft meant he would have to put distance between him and the crime so he set out to walk due west by using the pole star as a guide.

“Thank God for astronomy lessons,” he congratulated himself as the stars were intermittently visible between the clouds. Dawn found him at the edge of a large city that he soon discovered to be Bristol. With the jersey and dress for extra cover, he located a remote, safe hiding place and settled down to a few hours’ sleep before deciding to carry on into Bristol.

At noon, the high sun had inadvertently shone through the cover of his hide-out and the warm sun wakened him. Once again, food was the priority but there were no dairy farms in the city. Carefully, he dressed in the girl’s frock and jumper and stashed his clothes in his school bag before hiding it under some dead leaves then trudging into Bristol city centre.

To his delight, he found a charitable organisation handing out sandwiches and tea so he quickly availed himself of their generosity and filled up on assorted sandwiches. Here a charity worker noticed the new face and soon approached him.

“You’re new here then darling?”

Startled by her sudden appearance, Terry almost dropped his fourth sandwich as he span around in alarm. The elderly lady noticed his fearful reaction and quickly moved to reassure him.

“You should be careful on your own in the city darling. Girls are very vulnerable and even more so in these troubled times.”

“I’m okay!” Terry replied too quickly as she sagged with relief that the woman had mistaken her for a girl.

However the woman continued inspecting her.

“Are you living rough darling.”

Terry didn’t answer ‘See all, hear all, smell all, take all and say nowt’ were her watchwords, while brevity was all.

She shrugged non-committedly and finished off her large plastic beaker of tea before setting to leave – quickly.

“Wait a minute darling. You didn’t answer my question.” The woman called after her.

Without looking back, Terry waved her hand and called out “Thanks for the grub!” before a few quick strides took her out of sight.

“One more hurdle cleared,” she surmised as her hunger pangs were quenched. The food issue was sorted.

The next day she reappeared at the food station and cautiously approached the sandwich table.

“Back again love?” The same lady asked.

Terry nodded but refrained from reaching for the pile of sandwiches. The woman noticed Terry’s hesitation and used it as a lever to possibly pry open the girl’s shell.

“You are living rough aren’t you darling.”

“It’s not a crime is it?”

“No love but for young girls, it’s dangerous. How come you’re on the streets anyway? Young transitioners are invariably well looked after.”

Having been read as a ‘transitioner’; Terry was not fazed by the discovery. All girls during those times were transitioners because female babies were not being born. The lady pressed gently.

“Are you having a hard time adjusting?”

Terry simply nodded and gratefully took the sandwich that the lady had offered.

“Try not to worry darling. Quite a few kids do. Being a girl is not that bad, in fact it can be fun.”

“What! Walking around with a permanently swollen belly. No bloody way.”
Terry chose her next words carefully. “Other kids might accept it but I can’t. I’m a boy and that’s that!”

“Are you saying you’ve run away?”

“Happen I have, so what! They’re not cutting me and that’s that.”

“They’ll catch up with you eventually darling. You’re only making it more difficult for yourself. There’s no chance of avoiding it.”

“There is! Suicide!” Terry declared softly but determinedly. “Even if I die on the streets, they’re not cutting me.”

So saying, she took two more sandwiches from the pile and said “Thanks for these though. They keep me alive for now, Byee!”

Once again, Terry waltzed away waving the sandwiches as she sought a quiet place to eat them. In the loading area behind the shops, she found a pile of carboard stuffed into two bins. Quickly, she tugged out a large carboard case containing some bubble-wrap and bent it between the bins to form a comfortable sheltered bower where she plonked herself down and lay back to eat the sandwiches. When she had finished them, she realised that the bower was quite a comfortable niche and she decided to stay there. Within minutes, she’d dozed off and did not wake until her bladder made its customary demand.

Fortunately, she knew where the local Mac Donald’s was and decided to go and relieve herself. In the days when there were almost no neonatal girls the distinction between transitioned girls and neo-natals was immaterial. Terry quickly nipped in and locked the cubicle door before anybody realised she was not a customer. In any event, she had spent several hours in the mall that morning and she had noticed several people doing exactly the same thing. Glad to be able to wash her hands and freshen her face, she emerged feeling slightly cleaner and returned to her niche between the bins.

“Hey! What-choo doin’ with my box?” She demanded as she caught a street girl loading the precious bubble packed box onto a supermarket trolly that was already loaded with personal junk.”

“Who said it was yours love?”

“I got it out of the skip and made the bed. Purr’it back.”

“It’s no good sleepin’ ere’ the garbage truck comes around at seven and carts everything away. If you’re sleepin’ ere’ you’ll as likely end up in the truck.”

“You’re still not getting it. Give it back.”

“So where are you going to put it and yev’ got nothin’ to carry it. You’ll look a right dip-shite hawkin’ it around!”

Terry realised the girl was right and released her grip on the box. The girl promptly finished securing it and turned as she made to move off.

“What choo’ sleepin ere’ for anyway, you’ll get soaked if it rains.”

“I ‘aven’t found a proper place yet.”

The girl wagged her head and sighed.

“There’s plenty of places down by the river, not all the old warehouses are poshed up yet. There’s a couple of empty cellars if you don’t mind the rats.”

“Ugh Rats! No thanks, I’ll stick with my old place.”

“Where’s that?”

“D’ yer’ think I’d tell you?”

“Suite yer ’self.”

“Anyway, you’re a girl so what are you doin’ livin’ rough?” Terry wondered.

“I don’ intend ‘avin a dozen fuckin brats an’ bein’ worn out at thirty.”

“Me neither.” Terry agreed. “I’m a boy and I’m stayin’ a boy!”

“You’ll be lucky, yer chip’ ll get yer the first time you need anything. Yer’ can’t live rough forever.”

“If I can get over puberty, I’m in with a chance. My body’ ll likely reject an ape’s womb, compatible or not.”

“So you’re still a boy then, for now.”

Terry shrugged and nodded and the girl frowned.

“What choo’ like with yer fists?”

“What d’ yer wanna’ know for?”

“Well most of us who live rough like to share a bash, yer’ know; mutual protection.”

“I get by alone. If I find I need protection, I’ll come lookin’”

“Yer gonna have to watch it. You look full on girl even now. Some arsehole is bound to try it on. I’m Sam by the way, short for Samantha. What’s yours?”

“Terry with a ‘y’ for a boy.”

ooo000ooo

By dint of having nowhere specific to go the pair continued talking as the girl wheeled her supermarket trolly across the town towards the river. Eventually they came to her bash and she called into the cellar. A couple of female voices replied and after some cautious questioning, Terry was allowed to enter. As his eyes became accustomed to the dark, he counted five girls and a couple of biggish dogs that growled at him.

“They’re our protection “

“Oh! Nice Doggy! Nice Doggies!” Terry offered until one of the other girls ordered the dogs to sit.

“That’s better.” The second girl continued. I’m Theodora though everybody calls me Dora and you are?”

“Terry, Terry with a Y.”

“Oh. You’re a boy then!”

Sensing that the girls would not be happy having a boy amongst them, Terry immediately offered to leave.

“Oh there’s no need for that.” Dora explained. “None of us can get pregnant unless we have eggs implanted, except of course for Jessica, she’s neo-natal. So stay away from her unless she specifically invites you!”

“I’ll stay away from all of you cos’ I’m not stopping as I’ve got my own little bash out on the ring road. This is too near the city and the cops for my liking.”

“Oooh! Secrets eh! What, you running from then? .And where-abouts is your ‘bash’ as you call it.” Dora demanded.

“It’s no secret I don’ wanna be cut and turned into one of you guys so I ran. The other thing, my bash is a secret. I have to hide for a few years until I’m past puberty then they tend to give up on us.”

Dora studied Terry and grinned knowingly.

“I don’ think they’ll ever give up on you love, you look like a girl already and they really like finding girly boys. They offer the best chances for foetal survival. Are you a real tranny?”

“No! No! No I’m not, I’m just small but I’m pretty fit. So don’t try coming at me. Look, I’ll be off now, this is getting scary!”

So saying, he turned to leave but even as he reached the exit to the cellar, both dogs were in his way. Suddenly he realised that Dora had been serious about the dogs being protection. He turned angrily.

“Look! I said I wanted no trouble, now call your dogs off.”

“What’re you afraid of, it’s only us girls.”

“Girls are trouble. If you guys are on the run then you’re just more trouble as far as I’m concerned. They’ll be looking for you just like me.”

“Yeah but we’re safe because we’ve de-chipped ourselves. Even Jessica’s had her chip removed.”

“But that means you cant get anything, no medical help, no housing, no transport, nothing.”

“We get by. If you want to keep out of the net, you’d better get rid of your as well.”

Terry made a note that somehow these girls were now operating below the radar, presumably like many others she had seen wandering the streets. Her immediate problem was the dogs though and she had to find a way clear. Then she noticed an old reinforcing bar sticking out of the archway and beyond that some broken bricks jutting out. Obviously bomb damaged from way, way back during the second world war.
Without making it too obvious she checked out the structure and calculated she could jump up and then scramble up the outer cornice of the archway and escape along the ledge that formed the railing base of the park above the old cellars. Having judged the leap, she suddenly sprang up and just managed to grip the iron bar. It was rusty and cut her hand slightly but she still managed to swing onto the cornice and quickly scramble up the outer wall. By the time the dogs managed to get to the far end of the wall, Terry was gone. The girls joined their dogs and marvelled at the fugitive’s acrobatics.

“Fuck she must be a gymnast or something, did you see that.” Dora gasped.

“Or a bloody Ninja.” Jessica added. “She could be useful for getting into places.”

“Like what?” Dora demanded.

“Like getting into pharmacies and such like, like stealing sanitary dressings. It’s O-bloody-kay for you guys, you don’t have periods, I bloody do!”

The remaining transitioned kids fell silent. being a ‘real’ neo-natal girl and having real ‘women’s problems’ was always Jessica’s trump card. She could have babies from her own ovaries, albeit only boy babies. Additionally, her eggs were priceless in terms of the human race surviving. There were no more girls being born and the human race had little time left to somehow start producing neo-natal girls again.

In the whole of Britain, there were only a couple of hundred girls left of child-bearing age and no more were being born. The whole group knew that while they were being hunted, the search for Jessica was like a fox hunt with authorities and the medical establishment in full cry, desperately searching for Jessica and her eggs.

In parallel to this of course, the search to create a fertile male with both X and Y sperm was also a desperate endeavour.

ooo000ooo