The strange adventures of a mild-mannered civil servant named Jack.
A civil servant leads a quiet life, until life learns to make some noise all on its own.
Foreword: This is my second stab at posting my first work of fiction written for public consumption. Like many of you out there I've done some writing: for grades, for work and for my own sanity; but I've never been paid for it (directly) - and I'm not likely to - but you may know that by now already. I only ask that if you have something NOT nice to say... you say it all in a big fat stinker of a review. I may not post another word of fiction, but maybe I'll learn a thing or two. Here are a few ways I've failed the mother tongue in the past.... I'm a recovering commaholic. I like ending sentences with a preposition - something I have an unexplainable affinity for. I always manage to find a complicated manner in which to illustrate relatively simple concepts. I've been known to be a connoisseur of the passive voice. I mix verb tenses with reckless abandon. And finally, I'm constantly beginning awkward sentences with the word "and."
If you still find yourself willing to continue reading, give me this one more chance to change your mind. My relatively expensive education has virtually no practical application in today's world. Therefore, almost everything referenced in this modest story suffers from a layman's frame of reference; and at best, five minutes of Google research. In short, all mistakes are mine, and mine alone. I wear them as a perverse and ill-advised badge of honor.
Having finished with my version of the hard sell, you are now free to read my story.
Jack be nimble?
By: Myself
He was at work enjoying a minute of loafing when he first decided to quit biting his nails.
Jack was a low ambition kind of guy, doing the kind of work low ambition and average skills will fetch. It was honest work for average pay - but not terribly exciting. That's partly why Jack was staring out his office window that day, thinking about his spate of illness over the last few months. Like many people with slightly above average intelligence and an overly developed sense of curiosity, Jack was thinking about how he could avoid such infirmities in the future. Like many avid readers with active imaginations and a nasty case of hypochondria, Jack read WAY too many articles on WebMD. One article had been prescient, if not a little obvious. It had linked higher rates of flu to nail biting and infrequent hand washing.
He had long blamed himself for his relatively poor health. After all, you didn't have to be a hypochondriac to know it wasn't good for you to stick your fingers in your mouth. A nasty bout of flu was the last straw for this incongruous habit. He was finally going to act like a proper worrywart and kick the habit.
"But how?" he wondered.
Every journey begins with a first step, and for Jack that was filing off the rough edges. Jack figured that biting began with picking, and picking began with a rough edge begging to be picked. What nails he had may have been misshaped and abused - but soon they were smooth.
A few harrowing weeks later, filing had just about replaced picking and biting as Jack's primary habit. On the first no-picking week, Jack had to consciously close his fists when his fingers were idle to avoid unconscious picking. It was driving him crazy - until the obsession with a nail file caught up. In the following weeks his new obsession didn't just grow - it spread. Nail filing begat cuticle maintenance, which begat surface smoothing and buffing. In private moments he gazed at his fingers, splayed in a decidedly un-masculine fashion, admiring their appearance.
But our story didn't end there, and neither did Jack.
On some level he noticed he was getting moodier, but it was obscured by the appearance that he was loosing weight - in his hands. It would have been easy for Jack to dismiss if he didn't think his nails looked a little narrower in their bed. "I think it's all in your head Jack," his wife Stacy replied one morning when his anxiety momentarily got the better of him. "Think about the alternative... the bone structure of your hands is getting narrower? I seriously doubt it."
It's a real pity she didn't have a better-developed sense of irony.
When Jack was able to pry his eyes away from his hands, he came to notice other differences - starting with subtle changes in the face looking back at him in the mirror; shortly followed by a barely perceptible shrinking of his joints. Recalling his wife's words in the bathroom he convinced himself he was seeing symptoms that weren't there. Since no one at work seemed to notice, and his wife didn't notice, maybe it was all in his head.
Eventually someone finally spoke up. It wasn't the physical changes that Jack's wife noticed. It was his behavior that caught her eye.
"Jack, do you know we haven't had sex in six weeks?" she asked one evening, after the kids had gone to bed.
"You know, I guess I didn't. Why do you ask? Have you wanted to?"
"Jack. Six weeks. Do you have to ask? Of course I've wanted to."
"So why not say something sooner? Hell - why not do something sooner? Why do I always have to make the first move?"
"I don't know. You seemed so tired. Maybe I thought you wouldn't be in the mood. Have you... you know... been in the mood?" she asked.
"I might have been, if I'd been given some reason to be."
"Jack, listen to yourself. You don't sound like the Jack I celebrated my last birthday with... and there's your behavior lately. What's with the clinging all of a sudden? We spend all evening practically attached at the shoulder, so I think you might be up to something... even though you seem tired... then nothing. We go to sleep. Its not that I don't like the attention... but affection without sex just isn't you Jack. Not for six weeks. What's wrong?"
Jack didn't have an answer; but perhaps more worrisome (had his wife been able to read his mind) - Jack wasn't worried. Given Jack's history, he should have been well on his way to a full-blown nervous breakdown. Instead, the only thing troubling Jack at that moment was his misplaced nail file.
---
It was four months after Jack gave up biting his nails when Stacy first noticed a physical change.
"Jack, weren't you asking me about your fingers a while back? Something about them looking smaller?"
"Ah... yeah. Why?"
"Have you noticed anything else?" she asked.
"I ahh... well... are you trying to say something? You haven't noticed anything have you?"
"I don't think I would have said anything if you hadn't mentioned your fingers, because it seems so odd to say - but your knees seem smaller."
"My knees?"
"Well, yeah. Do you remember when we started dating and I asked you about your knees? I think I might have said your legs looked like you played soccer as a kid because of your thin legs and knobby knees."
"What does playing soccer have to do with having knobby knees?" he asked.
"You know, I think you said the same thing back then" she replied.
"I guess some questions are timeless, so?"
"It's just that I always thought you had big knees... and it just struck me that you don't."
"I don't, you mean, anymore?"
"Well... yeah. So what do you think?" she asked.
"I don't know what to think. Have you noticed anything else?"
''Well, you remember when I asked you about sex?'' Jack nodded and Stacy continued, ''well I've noticed you've found a new friend in that file you appropriated from my drawer. You seem to be more concerned with your appearance as a whole. Then... how do I put this? I don't think you look at other women as much.''
At this, Jack flushed, becoming embarrassed and defensive all at once.
''I don't mean to criticize you Jack; I always figured it was a guy thing to have the occasional wandering eye. It never bothered me that much. You never were a flirt, and you've never done anything else to make me question my trust in you - especially since your eyes always did more than "wander" in my direction. I'm not sure I've even been fully aware of it before this moment. Oh Jack, I feel like I'm just babbling; but when I think about your lack of interest in sex... Jack what's happening?''
Jack and Stacy sat up half the night, speculating what this might have meant. They tried Google. They tried online health sites. Nothing they found quelled their concerns. They really didn't expect to find anything anyway. After giving up on the computer, they settled into an intimate conversation about nothing in particular... nestled comfortably in bed. As they spoke, the pauses between spoken words slowly grew longer, until eventually they both fell asleep.
---
Jack was always a good driver. He had a clean record: no speeding tickets and no accidents. His friends in college used to kid him that he drove like an old woman. However, it only takes a moment to make all of that completely irrelevant.
"Sir, can you hear me? Sir?"
"Huh?"
"Sir, you have been in an accident. Can you tell me where it hurts?"
"Huh?"
"Sir, can you...."
---
"There's not much to report at this point maam. The good news is there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage. He'll probably just have a nasty headache from the concussion to remind him to drive more carefully."
"And the bad news?" Stacy asked.
"Well, I don't know if it's bad news, per say... but it bears checking out later with your husband's primary care physician. When we got the chance to weigh him we noticed he'd lost some weight. He was here nine months ago with an ankle sprain, and we show he's lost 35 pounds since then. It's not unheard of for someone to lose that much weight, but when l asked your husband about any changes in diet, appetite, or lifestyle he said there were none. There was also something about his reaction that was worrisome - as if the subject was causing some distress, but he was holding back. Working in the ER you get a feel for when someone isn't telling you the whole story. Talk to him about it. He should talk to his doctor about it. If it were ten or fifteen pounds we were talking about - well, I guess we wouldn't be talking. You know what I mean?"
---
Jack really didn't want to talk to Stacy about it at first, but since they were both a little worried bout the weight loss, Jack did agree to see his doctor. As little as he expected from his doctor, Jack was still disappointed that he had no ready theories he was willing to share... until after some blood tests.
"... Hi, this is Lisa with Labs Inc. I'm calling because it seems we lost the sample we took from you two weeks ago. Can you come back in for another blood draw?"
"I guess. Is there any day or time I should come in?" Jack asked.
"Oh no. Any time should be fine."
"You realize I don't have the script from my doctor anymore - I gave it to you all last time. Do I need to go back to my doctor for a new set of orders?"
"Oh no. You should be fine. We have your doctor's instructions entered on our system from the first time."
"Do you mind if I ask what took so long?" Jack asked.
"How do you mean?"
"I usually have my results back in a week, but it's been two and you're just now figuring out my blood was lost?"
"Well, we didn't know yours was lost until just recently. We didn't know until we finished the work-up on what we thought was your sample. We knew we mixed up somewhere when it became obvious your results showed you to be a perfectly healthy woman.
"Sir? Are you still there?"
---
"No Stacy, I'm not kidding. That's what she said."
"Well shit. Shit-shit-SHIT! What the HELL is that supposed to mean. Fingers - joints - behavior - your blood. Don't even tell me if you're sprouting breasts. I'm not interested in saving money on clothes by sharing. I..."
"Stacy, please calm down."
"I don't WANT to calm down."
"Stacy. Remember. It's not like we didn't know something weird was up. I've been through at least three sizes of pants this year. And let's not forget: this is happening to me! I'm the one that has to face everyone at work; that has to face the changing face in the mirror. You aren't helping."
"I'm sorry Jack, but have you thought about this at all?"
"Stacy, all I do anymore is think about this. Ever since the car accident, when that ER doctor spoke to us about my weight, I haven't been able to concentrate at work and I haven't been sleeping much at night. I need to be able to think about this LESS, not more. I need... AHH! I NEED you to leave me ALONE."
''You didn't seem that worried to me..."
"Before my little ER visit I WASN'T!"
Jack didn't go back for another draw. The lab, having no interest other than not being further embarrassed, didn't bring it up. His doctor, with a whole slew of HMO patients, never followed up with Jack or the lab.
"Jack? I'm sorry."
"I know. I understand this is happening to you too... so to speak," Jack reassured.
"What's next?" she asked.
"I have no idea."
---
Sometimes people keep doing what they normally do, even in a crisis, because they don't know what else to do. That's exactly what Jack and Stacy did. As you might expect, carrying on as if everything were normal was a bigger problem for Jack, especially when his changes continued. At work he stopped using the stairs when he felt parts of his body bouncing. He stopped tucking in his shirt when his pants became an awkward fit at the top. He started biting his nails again to try to make them look less delicate. He stopped doing anything that might call more attention to himself. He stopped speaking at meetings. He started eating lunch in his office.
Despite his efforts his coworkers took notice - ironically (at first) - because of his efforts. He was never outgoing, but they noticed when he withdrew completely. Perhaps because he was never outgoing he didn't have anyone at work he was particularly close to, and therefore had no one to confront him over his behavioral changes. He was as productive as ever, so not even his boss said anything... to his face... not even when people began to whisper that he might be taking hormones.
At home they tried to ignore the changes too. However, Jack and Stacy were talking as much as ever - just not about Jack. Although they had not had sex (or engaged in sexual behavior) physical intimacy reassured each of them in a way words never could. They still cuddled in each other's arms at night, in front of the TV, and after the kids went to bed. They still fell asleep in each other's arms. It wasn't until their precocious 8-year-old daughter brought it up that either of them talked seriously about his changes again.
"Dad, why do you have a big butt like mom now?"
Jack was horrified. He stood there motionless in front of his daughter. While she may have lacked tact, she was observant.
"Dad, what's wrong?" she asked, worried that she may have crossed a line she didn't know was there.
"Um..." Jack mumbled as stress, uncertainty, and emotion all came to bear. Jack gently bit down on his quivering lower lip as a tear rolled down his cheek.
"Dad, what's wrong?" she repeated.
Suddenly overwhelmed with self-consciousness, Jack turned away and sought refuge behind the locked door of his bedroom. Safely behind the door, Jack began to cry in earnest.
"Chrissy, what's wrong? What happened?" Stacy asked their daughter. A hushed conversation ensued, one that would have been out of earshot for Jack - even if he had wanted to listen. After a few minutes there was a knock on the door.
"Jack, what's wrong? Can I come in?"
"Chrissy said I had a big butt."
"Jack, please let me in. I think we need to talk about something. We've needed to for a while now. Come on Jack, open up."
Jack did open up, both the door and emotionally. After Jack calmed down they surveyed the changes together. Jack's rear was indeed larger, but this had been apparent when he began to feel more comfortable in Stacy's shorts. His hips were wider and there was a layer of fat on his outer thighs that didn't seem to be there before. His scrotum had all but disappeared and there was evidence that the rest of his genitalia would be following suit.
"Jack! You know what this looks like. With all the talking we do, why don't you ever want to talk about this?"
"It's not exactly something that comes up naturally in day-to-day conversation Stacy. 'Hi dear. How was your day? Guess what? My balls have almost completely disappeared!"'
"Yeah, but..."
"And speaking of changes, I thought some of my changes were pretty self evident. They embarrass me enough without talking about them every day."
"Has anyone noticed at work?" Stacy asked.
"Oh, that's been the absolute worst. Yes... oh yes, they've noticed. I was never a popular guy, but I wasn't a pariah either. Rooms go horribly quiet when I walk in. I must be all anyone talks about anymore. It's just awful."
"Have you thought about leaving? You know... finding another job?"
"I don't know. I know this isn't the greatest job, but it's almost impossible to get fired, and that's a real bonus right now. How many employers would have kept me around this long? Nope, as bad as I feel being the object of amusement, I'll probably stay. Besides, we need the money. And another thing... how would I get this other job? I'm not looking much like a 'Jack' these days. I'm bound to get to a point soon when my driver's license is just about useless as I.D."
"Have you thought any more about going back to the doctor?"
"Only that I don't want to. What are they going to say about this? Actually, as long as my coworkers keep to themselves, letting them assume I'm on hormones is perfect. I do everything else online... so as long as they keep letting me work, I think I'm good."
"I don't think we can just do nothing Jack."
"But what's the alternative? Have you considered that a doctor might not believe that I'm me anymore?"
"Jack!?"
"No, seriously, think about it. From the day my blood test came back I figured I might have trouble proving who I am. Our doctor doesn't know us that well. He's got too many patients. And even if he did agree to see me, what's the chance I'd be able to use our health insurance to pay for it. They're always looking for a reason not to pay. Heck... who's to say they wouldn't try to seek to prosecute me for insurance fraud?"
"But you're you..."
"But if there is ever any reason to doubt it, how do I prove it? I may still look mostly like me, but if a quick look at my blood says otherwise, my guess is they will pretty much ignore my face in favor of science. Who knows what my DNA might reveal. It may still be similar... or exactly the same, but if the more obvious identifiers of gender like appearance and physiology suggest I'm not a man, who's going to suspect or believe the truth... enough to try a more involved test... especially since my circumstances are so fantastic."
"Uh huh... you know Jack; you seem to have calmed down awfully quickly. You were the one needing to be consoled not to long ago. Do you think that's odd?"
"Nah. I think it just feels better to be talking about it. What about you? What do you think about all of this?"
"I don't want to lose my husband. No, no, no. I know you haven't gone anywhere, but I still feel kind of lonely. Does that make any sense?"
"Come here."
Jack opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. Stacy leaned into her husband for a long, needy embrace. For the first time in months, Jack began to feel aroused. It wasn't quite the same - the smell of her hair in his nose and the crush of her breasts against his chest did not cause a stirring in his pants. Instead, it was her warm, trusting embrace that gave his heart pause. It was purely accident that his hand found bare skin, but once there it felt compelled to explore. She seemed so warm and soft in his hands. He pulled his head back to gaze upon her face. When her head pulled back in reply their eyes met. For a moment their eyes searched each other, looking - hoping for consent. In unspoken, mutual, and yearning consent they came together in a simple kiss. Hesitantly at first, Stacy's hands began to explore her changed husband. Their kisses and explorations were not urgent, but no less loving or tender than ever before. They were slow, almost careful, but tender, loving, and wholly accepting. Unspeaking, they moved to the bed and explored each other in ways and to an extent they had not achieved in ten years of marriage. While you may not have used the word "sex" to describe their coming together, you most certainly would have used the word "love."
---
This is where the original story ended. In the ten months since it was posted it on another site I've done a bit of tinkering (literally here and there - I may be the only person that still finds it handy to take a lot of notes with a stylus on a Palm powered PDA). I've also fooled around with a possible second installment, which may eventually be posted... courage permitting.
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A mild mannered civil servant presses on.
Foreword: When I wrote the first part of this tale Jack be nimble?, I told you:
"... almost everything referenced in this modest story suffers from a layman's frame of reference; and at best, five minutes of Google research."
When I made that statement I was really thinking of this part of the story.
Well, for what it's worth, here's the next part of the tale.
The calendar said it was the first day of spring, but anyone hailing from a colder climate would probably argue that winter had never come to this part of the world. Such a person might say there were really only two seasons here (spring and summer), noting that summer ended somewhere around the end of November. It was the time of year when Jack normally shed his pants in favor of shorts, but Jack was wary of showing too much leg this year.
"Jack, what are you DOING?"
"I don't know. I guess I kinda wondered what it was like to shave my legs. There isn't as much hair above my knees anyway. Hell, there isn't quite as much below the knee either. I hadn't planned to do it. I saw your razor in the shower and thought I would see what it would look like to take a little off around the knee. One stroke of the razor led to another and before I knew it all of the hair on my legs was gone."
Without further comment, Stacy turned around in resignation and walked to the other room.
"If no one had to see me like this, I'd kind of like it." Jack quietly admitted to himself. "Do your under arms always itch after you shave them?" Jack called out to Stacy.
"Jack?!?"
"Just kidding," Jack replied out loud, "for now," he added to himself silently.
Much of Jack's life around this time was a contradiction. He hated his changes at work; the way he felt the need to hide himself in front of the people that knew him before he began to change. At home he was silently reveling in his changes. Each small change encountered was a silent, guilty thrill. Pulling into the driveway coming home from work, reaching across his body to turn the steering wheel, he noted the novel feeling of his small breasts getting in the way (ever so slightly). Putting away the laundry, he caught himself thinking like "herself," unconsciously putting his wife's underwear in his drawer - wondering how they would feel. Step by step, he caught himself slipping into femininity. Taken one at a time, without too much thought, he adored the unexpected pleasure. Taken as a whole, he was conflicted. Jack resigned himself to the change seeming inevitable, but he hadn't quite accepted it. He took pleasure in each small change, but he didn't know how to express his pleasure or if he should.
"Who am I?" he asked himself more than once.
---
One more surprise, in a long list of surprises, was Jack's relationship with his wife. Stacy never gave any indication she was attracted to women, but she was undeniably comfortable in bed with Jack's increasingly feminine form. One Saturday morning, still glowing from one thing that hadn't changed (much - as far as routines go anyway), Stacy asked, "What are we going to do with you Jack?" She hadn't intended the question as seriously as Jack considered it.
"I'm still not sure. I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop at work. I can't believe no one has said anything to me yet. I'm beginning to wonder what they'd do if I died at my desk. Would they just close the door and pretend no one was ever there? What's a girl with a dick gotta do to get a little attention?"
Stacy knew her husband well. She knew sarcasm was his favorite defense mechanism, so she scooted closer and held him tightly as he quietly stared off into space, seemingly deep in thought. It was the wrong time to ask about the new cavity she had discovered earlier, so she didn't.
---
The phone in Jack's office rang.
"Hi, this is Jack."
"Jack, this is Maggie. Rob and I are in my office... we need to talk. Can you come on over?"
"Sure. Give me a couple minutes to finish something up and I'll be right over."
"So, is this it?" Jack wondered. Stepping into Maggie's office, Jack saw his boss sitting behind her desk. Her boss, Rob, was seated in one of the two "guest" chairs.
Rob stood up. Turning towards Jack and motioning towards the chair next to him he said, "Hi Jack. Come on in and have a seat. Could you just close the door behind you?" Jack sat down next to Rob and unconsciously tugged at the end of his untucked shirt, pulling it slightly away from his body to obscure his developing breasts.
"Uh... good morning Jack," Maggie said. She was distracted by Jack's unconscious adjustment. Her eyes were studying Jack's poorly hidden, changed torso. "Rob and I wanted to talk to you about your... ah... appearance these last few months. You've been our go-to gu... you've been a real anchor around here for the last few years. Without your contributions we would be hopelessly behind. I only say this to assure you this meeting has nothing to do with YOUR work. In fact, we wish more people worked as hard as you do. No, the real problem is...how do I say this... we're sort of having trouble with everyone else."
"I'm sorry?" Jack asked.
"Jack, what Maggie's trying to say," Rob interjected, "is that your co-workers have been distracted lately and we think you may have something to do with it."
"Jack," Maggie resumed, "you must know that everybody has been talking about you lately."
"Yeah, I've noticed."
"Well we're a little worried," Rob said.
"There are really two issues we wanted to discuss," Maggie said. "First, we want to say there's nothing in the Department's code of conduct that requires a man to have masculine attributes, if you get my drift."
"I suppose," Jack replied. "I'll bet you've looked recently though," Jack thought to himself uneasily.
"Good. You've complied with the dress code, even if you have looked a little sloppy lately. In many ways you've been a model employee, other than this recent distraction. There's no rule specifically forbidding questionable taste... or certain personal choices... but... oh, I don't mean to insult you either. It's just... well, you know the department has an excellent employee assistance program. It's completely confidential. You could speak to them about any personal problems you might be having. The Department prides itself on being diverse. I'm sure you know Miche...."
"Let's not make this about anyone else right now Maggie," Rob interrupted. "You know how to get in touch with the employee assistance program if you need to, don't you Jack?"
"Yeah, I guess," Jack cautiously replied, the light of understanding beginning to dawn.
Maggie added, "I know you probably already have someone you talk to about this. But you seem so withdrawn."
"Jack," Rob interjected, "we don't want you to think you have to talk to us about this, we just wanted to make sure you had the number."
"Thanks."
"Second," Maggie resumed, "we wanted to get your input on your coworkers' behavior."
"How do you mean?" Jack asked.
"Has anyone been harassing you in any way?" Rob asked.
"Harassing me?" Jack repeated, a little surprised.
Maggie added, "Well like I said, you've seemed so withdrawn. I can appreciate that this must be a big change for you, but you almost seem shocked. I assumed it might be because someone was mistreating or harassing you."
"No, not really."
Rob added, "Well, we're going to have to do something. Productivity has fallen off a cliff. Do you have any ideas? Would you be open to the idea of transferring to another position, or another location? Telecommuting might be something we could look into, if you're o.k. with it."
---
"So they're not going to fire you?" Stacy asked again.
"It doesn't look that way, although they really seemed like they wanted to get rid of me one way or another, especially Rob. Both of them were ready to have me sign he paperwork to start telecommuting right away. They also said I could transfer to another office - but I don't know yet."
"And they think you are pursuing sex reassignment surgery?"
"Heck of a thing, ain't it? A real life, unconscious application of Occam's Razor. Well sort of... maybe not exactly... you know what I mean?"
"No, not really."
"A surgical sex change is much more plausible than the truth. I only wish I had foresight or courage to proffer this cover to management before now. I guess in the back of my mind I didn't think people changed this quickly going the hormone/surgery route. Still, maybe I could have avoided a lot of anxiety."
"I wouldn't tell that to a garden variety transvestite, if I were you."
"I think the term you wanted was "transsexual." Redirecting the conversation, Jack asked, "Do you think they're going to try to get rid of me?"
"You mean at work? I don't know Jack, it's hard to say. We could probably spend all night parsing what they said in that meeting, but it doesn't change our options. Maybe you should go ahead and telecommute. You wouldn't have to learn a new job; which incidentally, could be an avenue to set you up to be fired. Plus, everyone gets what they presumably really want. You keep a job you know and you're good at. They keep a productive employee, but keep you out of sight and out of mind."
Jack asked, "Stacy, what's going to happen to us?"
"You mean this isn't enough? Please don't tell me you've got something else in mind too."
"No. GOD... NO! I mean I'm not the same man you married. As a card carrying member of the XY club I wasn't above a little lesbian fantasy every now and again, but I'm not naive enough to believe I'm still your fantasy lover."
"Like you ever were?" Stacy interrupted - an endearing, yet mischievous smile lighting up her face.
"Please Stacy, seriously. I've never felt attractive, but I'm acutely aware I'm becoming the other woman here. I've been expecting the heave-ho. I've been waiting for you to tell me you can't do this anymore. I remember when I was cycling and you were dead set against me shaving my legs. If I recall you threatened to withhold sex because it would be too weird. What does that make this?"
"Jack, I..."
"Don't tell me. I don't really want to know."
"I'm sorry Jack, I don't know where to..."
"No - don't say it. I really need you."
"Jack you don't understand. I..."
"Please Stacy..."
"Jack I'm..."
"PLEASE STACY!"
"... NOT going anywhere."
---
BULLETIN 2007-002
FROM: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Atlanta
T0: All State Departments of Health
SUBJECT: Emerging pathology of unknown cause/origin
Hospitals in several states are reporting geographically clustered patients displaying relatively sudden decreases in body mass, in conjunction with apparent decreases in skeletal size and density. In the last two weeks approximately 500 such cases have been reported nationwide. The nature of subject clustering suggests a statistically significant possibility of low-grade communicability - although the mode of transmission is unknown at this time.
No evidence of an immune response has been reported in any of those affected. Further, toxicology screens have thus far shown no evidence of xenobiotics. As a result, few conclusions have been made at this time as to the nature of a possible pathogen - other than its apparent (yet somewhat limited) infectious nature. Although we are continuing to gather information, it is premature to speculate what (if any) environmental factors may play a role. Despite the loss of mass, there has been no evidence of tissue damage found; either to the skeleton or surrounding tissues. Although it's significance is not yet known, some (but not all) patients have presented abnormal levels of otherwise naturally occurring gonadal steroids.
While none of the information gathered thus far points to a likely underlying cause, the CDC requests that all state level departments encourage local facilities to report all incidents of patients presenting similar symptoms directly to the appropriate Sentinel Network, coordinated by the NCID Office of Surveillance. As a precaution, the CDC suggests hospitals follow the CDC protocol for emergent infectious disease (see attached), with standard isolation of affected patients from general hospital populations until further notice.
A follow-up bulletin will be distributed as verified information becomes available.
---
"Hey Jack, what do you say we take today off. I can drop Chrissy off at school and we can spend the day together. Maybe we could see a movie? At some point we could continue our discussion from yesterday."
"I suppose, but I don't know what's left to discuss."
"I didn't get much sleep last night Jack. I had a lot of time to think. Let me take care of Chrissy and we'll talk about it, o.k.?"
...
"Mom, what's wrong with Dad?"
"Well, we're not quite sure yet honey. We don't think your dad's in any danger, but he's got something that's made him lose some weight. Your dad's kind of embarrassed by it, so he'd probably appreciate it if we didn't talk to anyone else about it o.k.?"
"But Suzy keeps asking me what's happened to dad. She keeps telling everyone that you and dad are getting a divorce. She says when her parents got a divorce her dad moved away, and she thinks dad moved away because people don't see him here anymore."
"Chrissy you know that's not true. Dad has been here every day. He just hasn't been feeling that well."
"Yeah, but what do I tell Suzy. She's lying to everyone and making fun of me."
"I'm sorry Chrissy. It's not easy, but sometimes the best thing to do is not say anything at all. Sometimes if you say something it only tells the other person they have succeeded making you feel bad - which is probably exactly what she is trying to do. If you can ignore her without showing her you're upset - you win. She may just stop, thinking she can't bother you anymore."
"Suzy is really mean mom. I don't think she'll ever stop."
"We can talk to your teacher, but I think you should try ignoring her first. If it's really bad you know you can talk to your teacher, right?"
"Yeah I guess. Mom, are you sure dad is o.k.? Sometimes he acts kind of funny."
"Yes, I'm sure Suzy."
"But I don't understand something mom. If dad is getting skinny, why did his butt get fatter?"
"When you get a little older you'll understand," Stacy said. "When people grow up their bodies go through some changes," Stacy added - proud of herself for thinking up such a reasonable sounding - if not completely honest - explanation.
"Is it like when great-grandma started growing a mustache?"
...
The sound of running water brought Stacy into the bathroom when she returned home. "Hey Jack I'm back."
"I'll be out in a sec."
"There's no rush. How are you feeling this morning?"
"I dunno. Tired I guess. How about you?"
"Mostly I'm just worried Jack. I'm worried about you, how you're doing, how you're adjusting, how they're treating you at work, how you're being treated whenever you leave the house. And I'm a little worried about something you said last night."
"You mean the lesbian thing?"
"Yeah, sort of. You were right though, I've never found women attractive 'in that way,' but this thing that's happening to you has surprised me... well, other than the obvious part. It's hard to explain... but... let me put it like this: when we first met it wasn't love at first sight. You were not my fantasy incarnate. You grew on me."
"You mean you saw my inner beauty?"
"No Jack, don't flatter yourself," Stacy replied with a wry grin. "No, as I grew to love you I recognized bits and pieces of you that I found attractive: like the tender way you spoke to me, your quirky facial expressions. It's like I can feel the love in all of those little things... like another sense. We both noticed you changing a while back, but it was slow. Looking back I can see that you've changed a great deal: your softer face, your growing breasts, and your smaller knees..." Stacy added with a smile. "But day-to-day there weren't any big changes. You didn't just wake up one morning with a bigger butt than me. It kind of snuck up on us. I guess what I'm trying to say is I've had a lot of time to get used to this; and in the mean time, most of those things I grew attracted to stayed put. Underneath it all, you ARE STILL the man I fell in love with." Stacy finished with a single tear caressing the side of her face.
Almost pleading, Jack replied, "but Stacy, am I really the same person? You say my eyes don't wander anymore. I find myself doing things I wouldn't have done; feeling things I wouldn't have felt. I'm not obsessing over every little ache and pain anymore. If I don't quite feel like the same person; if I don't see the same person in myself anymore, how can you?"
"Jack, underneath it all you are still the man I fell in love with. I can't argue your every point any more than I can find a way objectively measure feelings. Maybe I can't explain it or describe it to your satisfaction, but sometimes we've got to have faith. Sometimes you can't do anything more than just trust the person you love. We've always had trust Jack. Have I ever done anything to make you question that trust? Listen to me Jack. I LOVE you Jack. I WANT you in my life. I NEED you in my life. Listen to me now Jack. Trust me now Jack. I love you with ALL of my heart and ALL of my soul."
Jack was speechless for several minutes, looking at his feet as if the right thing to say might be written on the floor. When his mind was almost ready to speak, his emotions were not. Several attempts at speech were abandoned with stifled sobs. Finally looking up with vulnerable eyes, Jack whispered the only thing that needed to be said, "I love you so much Stacy."
They met in the middle of the bathroom in a warm, if slightly damp embrace. Neither one of them openly sobbed, but rather shed quiet tears of release... and requited love.
---
"In health news, the National Center of Infectious Disease is apparently following up on reports that groups of adult men are suffering from sudden, unexplained weight loss. It has been reported that some of the affected men have lost as much as a hundred pounds in as little as six month's time; yet none of the affected men display any of the ill-effects often associated with such rapid weight loss. Although health officials are concerned about these mysterious cases, they stress that it has so far been limited to a few scattered, small groups of men; and that whatever may have caused this seems to be contained.
"State health officials are continuing to monitor the outbreaks, and hope to find a cause soon."
(Not quite) the end.
Read older comments here or leave new comment below.
Jack gets just about as much as he can take.
Foreword: I want to thank a few of you for your kind words. A little bit of kindness can go a long way, and I can assure you it has in this case.
If you'd like to read the first two parts to this story, you can find them here (I hope... assuming I got the links right):
Jack be nimble?
Jack won't quit?
Jack gets whacked by the candlestick
Written and edited by Myself
"JACK! GET IN HERE!"
"What's wrong? Jack asked, trotting in from the other room.
"Did you hear what they just said on the news? It was like they were talking about you!"
"About me? Slow down Stacy. What exactly did they say?"
"There was a story on the news about men checking into hospitals with sudden weight loss."
"Are these men turning into women? Did they say what might be causing it? Did they say anything else?" Jack asked.
"They didn't say much, just that there have been groups of men who are losing a lot of weight and they don't know why. Do you think these men have the same thing you do? Do you think it's some kind of disease?"
Jack sighed. "I don't know, Stacy. Other than the obvious physical signs, I have no idea what's going on in here. I haven't been sick. I haven't done anything that I haven't done all my life. I haven't been splattered with industrial waste or bitten by any genetically engineered spiders. I lead a boring life."
"That's not entirely true Jack. You did see a doctor a while back. Remember?"
"Yeah, but I doubt blunt trauma caused this. Car accidents don't make men grow breasts. Both of the doctors I saw didn't find anything wrong with me."
"But that does tell us SOMETHING Jack. You had started changing; yet they didn't find anything wrong with you. Remember your blood test? They said you had the labs of a HEALTHY woman. 'Being a woman' isn't normal for you, but the healthy part is interesting. That's something."
"Oh yeah, big deal; so I don't have a fever! All that says is I don't have a cold... and possibly ovulating."
"It may be more than that Jack. Who knows what they tested you for? Remember, you saw your doctor because you were losing weight. If your doctor didn't have any idea what was causing the weight loss he may have ordered a broad range of tests."
"That's a big 'if' Stacey," Jack interrupted. "I think it's more likely he had a few ideas and only ordered tests to rule out the most obvious possibilities."
"That's certainly possible, but in either case it tells us something. At the very least it tells us that you didn't have any signs of the most obvious causes... whatever they may be."
"I think you're grasping at straws Stacy. This doesn't really tell us anything. All we know right now is there MAY be some other men out there with the same problem. The question is: does this change anything for us?"
"How do you mean?"
"I mean Dr Thomas saw me not too long ago. We were worried I was losing weight. Then we decided not to go back after the little episode with my blood work. But what if Dr Thomas begins to wonder what happened to me. Has he forgotten about me? Will this story in the news jog his memory? Will he follow up with the lab to see what happened to my blood work? Will he have to report my case to anyone?"
"I don't know Jack. I would think privacy laws would keep Dr. Thomas from reporting your case to anyone."
"Maybe. But is there a point where an individual's right to privacy disappears where matters of public health are concerned? If a horrible new disease pops up I can't imagine your average Joe resting on his privacy rights while his whole neighborhood gets sick. I'm not sure the law, or the public health system would let him."
"But Jack..."
"But nothing Stacy. Forget about the law. Maybe I have a moral obligation to see my doctor about this. What if I'M spreading this around?"
"But no one around here is getting sick Jack."
"But we don't know that Stacy. Heck, for all we know I'm not sick. We don't know anyone; and even if we did, how many people are out there with the same thing and are hiding just like us? It could be into half our neighborhood for all we know."
"Jack. I think it would be a bigger news story if half the men in our neighborhood were turning into women. I'll bet it would be a bigger story if even ONE of the men they talked about on the news was turning into a woman."
"But what if I'm just further along for some reason?"
"Jack, those are all good questions, but..."
"I can't just sit here and..." Jack interrupted.
"Jack, promise me you won't do anything without talking to me first, o.k."
"You don't think I should go back to Dr. Thomas?" Jack asked, almost as a challenge.
"I'm not sure. What if the same thing is happening to all those men and they decide to put you all in quarantine? Do you want to be trapped someplace while they try to figure out what's wrong with you? If it's a disease, think about how many diseases are cured in a month, or even a year of trying. I'll bet it's a REALLY short list. That means you could be facing being locked away for a LONG time. This may sound cold, but anyone you might expose at work has already been exposed. Go into the office tomorrow, tell them you would like to telecommute, and come home. If you're working from home you can't spread anything."
"They wouldn't have to keep us isolated until they find a cure; just until they are sure it's not contagious, or until they're satisfied they can control its spread."
"We're not talking about the flu here Jack. This may be something that's turning men into women. It may not be killing you, but it'll sure scare the CRAP out of a lot of men. Fear is a powerful tool. It'll make a lot of people do things they wouldn't ordinarily do... like lock up a bunch of sick people and conveniently lose the key... or worse."
"But what about you Stacy? You're still exposed. What if I'm putting you and the kids in danger? What if this is something that YOU can carry and spread too?"
"Come on Jack, you're not thinking - or listening to me. We would've been exposed before anyone at the office would've been; and my job has less contact with people than yours. If there's anything to be exposed to - it's done already. If there's anything I can carry and expose, then the handful of people I've worked with have already been exposed. I think we need to sit tight and see how this shakes out. Let's not do anything right now we can't take back."
"Stacy?"
"No Jack. We gain nothing by speaking up. We don't help anyone by speaking up. It doesn't look like they know the cause... even IF it's the same thing. We keep quiet."
"It might help someone if..."
"We keep quiet Jack," Stacy interrupted.
---
Associated Press
(Berlin) - Amid growing concerns of an emerging epidemic, German health officials have confirmed that cases of the mysterious weight loss seen in U.S. hospitals in recent weeks have appeared in several German hospitals. Reports are surfacing that the German cases may have appeared before the first U.S. case was reported.
In addition to the symptoms reported in the U.S., German health officials are reporting that several of the affected men have exhibited certain changes, which are visually similar to developing female sex characteristics. However, German health officials are denying rumors that all of the patients affected are men, and that two of the men have undergone what allegedly has been a complete sexual transformation.
---
Associated Press
(Atlanta) - The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta has confirmed that all reported U.S. cases of unexplained weight loss have thus far been men.
In a press release provided to news services this afternoon, the CDC has confirmed that all of the patients affected thus far appear to be men between the ages of 15 and 55. The CDC has also confirmed that the abnormal hormone levels previously reported are in fact abnormally high levels of female gonadal steroids, in conjunction with abnormally low levels of male gonadal steroids - commonly referred to as the sex hormones.
A spokesperson for the CDC stated this afternoon that they are not prepared to make any conclusions regarding the underlying cause or communicability of this condition.
---
For immediate release:
World Health Organization Works with U.S., German, and French Health Officials to Find Cause of Mysterious Abnormality
5 July 2007 | Geneva -- As reported in media outlets around the world, steadily increasing numbers of men are reporting sudden weight loss. Little is known about this condition, other than its apparent symptoms. There is no known cause at this time. Although the numbers of affected men are steadily increasing, it is not clear the condition is infectious. The first reported cases appeared almost simultaneously in a number of widely dispersed locations, suggesting a possible environmental cause rather that infection by person-to-person contact (or similar biological vector).
French and German officials now confirm reports from the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that all individuals affected have thus far been men, roughly between the ages of 15 and 55. It has also been confirmed that blood samples from affected men show abnormally high levels of female sex steroids along with apparent development of female secondary sex characteristics.
---
Stories about people losing weight had been in the back of people's minds since the first stories appeared in the news, but not many were really worried. For a few months rumors swirled about its causes and the effects. Speculation ranged from: a mutated form of HIV, an accidental release from some kind of government experiment, a pharmaceutical company's weight-loss research program run amok... all the way to God's displeasure/judgment on a prevailing "culture of sin." People talked about victims dissolving into puddles of goo, mutating into mythical creatures, regressing to childhood, or morphing into virtual clones of well-known female celebrities.
It was the kind of talk curious people engage in when a problem is abstract, or can be safely filed away as "someone else's problem." Perhaps people didn't think of it as 'real' because it didn't have a name. Perhaps the human mind relies too heavily on labels to process information. In any case, a turning point in public perception came when a consensus was reached on a label: Male Reduction Syndrome.
MRS for short.
With the revelation that the number of known MRS cases worldwide was in the millions, the public's anxiety reached a critical mass. Fueled by the natural tendency of the modern media to hype a story (not to mention a misguided notion that 'doom and gloom' are necessary components of 'gravitas,' without regard to subject or context), and mixed with the public's programmed sensitivity to news of an epidemic, the world began a slow decline into near panic. Few people trusted, or believed statements from the scientific community that tried to assure that MRS was not easily transmitted from person to person. There was just too much uncertainty within the scientific community, and that uncertainty was apparent in those so-called "assurances." As a result, people avoided going out in public, and private sector discretionary spending came to a halt. Fearing a collapse of national economies, the world's financial markets closed. The world's ten largest stock exchanges all temporarily ceased operations: New York, Tokyo, NASDAQ, London, the merged European markets (Amsterdam, Brussels, Paris), Toronto, Hong Kong, Frankfurt, Madrid, and the Swiss. Airlines cancelled all international flights. The world's largest self-fulfilling prophecy was realized, when fearing shortages, people rushed stores, markets, pharmacies, and gas stations for supplies.
Well, women rushed the stores anyway.
The majority of the world's men, thus far unaffected, lived in fear. Perhaps ironically, cultures most noted for "machismo" were struck hardest by this fear. There were no reports of violence; but the world's governments were collectively holding their breath, waiting for the expected reports of healthy men exorcising their fear by attacking the afflicted.
Health officials around the world were stumped. No one had the slightest idea what was going on, or even where they should look. No one that is, until a researcher with the Institut Pasteur discovered what he thought was an interesting pattern in a sub-set of the data. Not everyone was sharing data as readily as others; and worse, not everyone was collecting the same data. However, pair of French hospitals had been particularly thorough in their interviews with MRS patients. In hindsight, it was hard to fathom either facility failing to see an interesting and unusually reliable correlation: all of the MRS patients interviewed at these two French facilities had been sexually active... and had fathered children.
It was the birthplace of an idea.
---
"We know what's really been happening to you Jack! We know you're in there, you sick bastard! YOU'RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS ANYMORE!"
"Stacy," Jack whispered over the banging, "we've gotta get you and the kids outta here!"
"Jack, we can't ju..."
"Shhhh!" Jack interrupted. "Forget it. They're not looking for you guys. No one is going to hurt you. No one has any reason to hurt you. I'm the one they're afraid of..."
"Jack," Stacy interrupted. "You're not gonna be a martyr. No one's gonna care. Besides, they may be just as angry with us for helping you. No one will see you as a man anymore ... if we can just get away from here we might have a chance. Anywhere else we'd just be two women traveling together with two kids."
"But where can we go? If everyone is turning into women won't they guess..."
"We don't have time to argue Jack," Stacy interrupted again. "We can't say here. We'll ALL go to the garage before someone thinks to try to break in there, and make a break for it in the car. With any luck they won't be ready for a chase and we can get away."
Human children are apparently not too far removed (evolutionary speaking - if you believe it that kind of thing) from the dangers of the wild. This was evidenced by the kids' stunned silence in the midst of all the commotion.
Jack and Stacy took one child each and hastily made their way to the garage. Forgoing the normal seatbelt routine, they dumped the kids in back and locked the car doors. Jack keyed the ignition as Stacy punched the garage door opener. A few anxious moments passed as the garage door began to open... way... too... slowly. One, two, then three pairs of feet appeared under the opening door; followed by a knee, a hand, then an elbow, and finally an angry face peeking in.
"GET THE **** OUT OF THAT CAR JACK," yelled one of Jack's angry co-workers.
Chrissy screamed as their neighbor appeared near her window, lashing out at the car viciously; kicking at her door as one would stomp on a bug.
Waiting for the door to rise, Jack's head swung from window to window. Chrissy was screaming. Little Ben was crying. Stacy was imploring him to go. A neighbor was beating on the window with his hands. A co-worker was ripping off small pieces of the car (wipers, antenna, etc). Another neighbor was throwing anything he could get his hands on at the car. Jack was imagining one of the angry men breaking into the car, dragging them out one by one.... Jack had enough waiting. Popping the clutch, Jack launched the car at the still rising door. The bottom of the flimsy aluminum door caught the very top of the rear windshield, but yielded to the car's mass and sudden velocity.
Jack's family was away.
They were not followed.
They had none of their belongings.
They had themselves, frayed nerves, and half a tank of gas.
Male Reduction Syndrome revealed...
The first three parts of this story can be found here:
Jack be nimble?
Jack won't quit?
Jack gets whacked by the candlestick
The last we hear from Jack
Written and edited by Myself
"Mr. President, I believe it may be time to address the country about this condition. The information is going to get out, but I think we need to control its release..."
"Listen Mike, give it to me straight. Pretend I didn't go to Yale... that... that I'm just some jackass the V.P. pulled in off the street."
"Well Mr. President, one of our guys in Atlanta got a call from a friend at Pasteur. He claims he's found a possible link between sexual activity and the emergence of MRS."
"And this French fella," the President interrupted, "he asked our guy to have our people look into it?"
"That's correct Mr. President. The CDC was in the process of issuing a bulletin to U.S. hospitals when I heard about it. I've had them hold the release because there's no telling how this information will play with the public; and you know if the CDC issues a bulletin it'll hit the news inside the hour."
"I can appreciate we're in a real bind here Mike. You tell the CDC to hold off for now. Lemme bounce this off a few more heads and see if this boat don't still float."
"Mr. President?"
"Thanks for bringin' this to my attention Mike. Lemme get back to you."
---
Jack and Stacy were on the road for an hour before they spoke.
"Where are you going?" Stacy asked.
"I... nowhere... somewhere else... "
Jack knew they didn't have enough gas to drive around very long. In their rush to leave the house they left behind everything... clothing, belongings, money, ID.... It occurred to Jack that they would need some of these things if they were going to get very far.
"Jack, you aren't going back are you?"
"We're going to need some stuff," Jack replied. "We're going to need money for gas, if nothing else. We've got less than half a tank."
Stacy sat back in her seat. What could she say? Jack was right. As the anonymous blur of houses whisked by her window, she wondered how many of the inhabitants would sympathize with her plight; or how many were similarly in flight? How would they get their stuff? Would it still be there? Could they replace it if it wasn't? Would they still have a job? Would there be lots of people out of a job? Where would they get money?
"Jack, we're in a lot of trouble."
"You don't say," Jack replied, with just a hint of sarcasm.
Ignoring his tone, Stacy continued, "There could be lots of people out there running. If they're not working they're not earning money. If they're not working something's not getting done. If they're not earning money they won't have as much to spend. If they're not spending, someone else is not earning as much. It's a downward spiral Jack, and it could be a rough landing... if anyone lets us land at all."
Jack drove past their house looking for signs of activity. Seeing none, Jack left the small suburban subdivision and pulled over on the highway, just outside. The plan was simple. Stacy would approach the house from the rear. Their house was along the outer edge of the neighborhood (a six foot wall separated the neighborhood from the highway), so Stacy would not have to pass within view of the neighbors' houses to gain access to their fenced in back yard. Both of them just assumed Stacy COULD climb the wall leading to their back yard, even though they had never before had the occasion to try. Jack and Stacy were in decent shape, for a married couple with kids. Once in the back yard, Stacy would not bother with finding an unlocked door. She would use the tire iron from the trunk, wrapped in an old beach towel, to punch out one of the small frosted window panes of the door leading from the back porch to the downstairs bathroom. (The house was built with a backyard pool in mind.) As it turned out, she didn't need the tire iron. Someone had already broken the sliding glass door leading from the family room to the back porch.
Stepping into the house, Stacy was surprised to see the interior relatively undisturbed. She assumed the house had been ransacked. However, while there were a few things tossed about, everything was largely untouched. She moved quietly upstairs, wary of anyone that might still be inside, and checked for her wallet in the master bedroom. It was there where she left it, along with Jack's in the dresser. She collected both and tossed them in a suitcase retrieved from the closet. She grabbed a few changes of clothes, taking shorts and shirts that would fit both her and Jack. She picked out some clothes for the kids, and then moved on to the bathroom. She collected a few toiletries. She got a thermos from the kitchen (filling it with water), as well as some snack food. With everything stuffed into the suitcase, she headed back to the porch, the yard, and towards her waiting family.
"Is that you Stacy?" It was their neighbor Jean, a middle-aged mother of three. "Don't worry. No one is here but me," she said in a sympathetic voice. Jean had always been a good neighbor; someone Stacy's family could count on for the odd, last minute favor. Their kids played together, despite slight differences in age, and had spent many nights at each other's house while their parents got away for the occasional evening retreat. Jean wasn't nearly the introvert Jack and Stacy had been, and served as their conduit to the rest of the neighborhood. Many people wouldn't know Jack and Stacy's names were it not for Jean.
Stacy stopped at the wall, holding the suitcase at shoulder level - clearly struggling to hold it there, but neither ready to throw it over, nor quite off guard enough to put it down.
"You know me well enough to know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you or your family, don't you Stacy?"
"So much happened so fast..." Stacy began.
"Mike was running out the door just as you and Jack were heading down the street," Jean said, referring to her husband. "Those folks in your house were out of control; but they were more afraid than angry. Mike told them the police were on their way and they scattered pretty quickly. They weren't... really, but those guys weren't around long enough to find out. Why don't you all come to our house?"
"But they'll come back," Stacy interrupted.
"Please Stacy, where else can you go? There's safety in numbers. We'll hunker down and figure out what to do next together. Besides, I don't think those guys were so out of it that they'd come back. I think Mike might've scared a little sense back into them. At worst, we can call Smith and Wesson for a little back up."
At that Stacy grinned. She didn't turn from the wall right away, but the suitcase made it's way to the ground and Stacy's shoulders slumped in a sigh of relief.
---
No one was surprised when the violence started, but many were surprised that it wasn't worse. Few people died as a direct result of the violence, although scores of MRS men were injured.
The large number of MRS cases reported in the news prompted a lot of men to take a closer look at themselves. Many of them discovered that they had lost weight too, although they had not noticed a change in their outward appearance... yet. It was in this way that the number of reported MRS cases exploded. News reports brought more attention, which brought more reported cases, which brought more attention.
Interestingly, most of these men were not terribly concerned about their weight loss, or the prospect that they may have MRS. This was a good thing, because in short order the number of adult men known to be affected by MRS (mostly by their own inspection) surpassed the number of men not affected. In a matter of weeks a sense of inevitability, or learned helplessness replaced anger (manifested by fear) among unchanged men. MRS was everywhere. There was no getting away from it. Everyone knew someone that had it, or strongly suspected they had it themself. MRS was too real - too personal, for too many, for the violence to continue.
The explosion of reported MRS cases produced a treasure trove of information, and health organizations began to ignore their governments in the search for a cause. It all began with a single researcher in France with a hunch. It spread overseas to his closest friends and colleagues. Together they learned it wasn't just those two French hospitals... it was the whole world: all MRS men had been fertile, sexually active, and were fathers. This information leaked to the public when scientists began surveying unchanged men. A new wave of anxiety, many orders of magnitude lower than the first swept the world... but quickly subsided. It turned out sexual urges are a powerful force, combined with the human ability to rationalize... and a shoe that had yet to drop.
With this new information, gathered from unchanged men, the world came very close to learning the cause. Although the specific mechanism was still unknown, it became apparent that conception created some kind of trigger carried by the mother and child. Subsequent casual contact with the father, by either the child or the mother, would cause MRS. Contact with the mother could trigger MRS in as little as 72 hours after conception. Complicating matters for men, something else seemed to be at work, beyond the trigger mechanism for MRS. It seemed that men displayed signs similar to addiction after sexual intercourse with women; even if conception did not take place. This phenomenon was specific to the woman. In other words, a man did not become attached to women in general; just to the woman they had sex with. It was subtle, so it wasn't noticed until after the news of MRS spread... and men began to leave their sexual partners in large numbers, hoping to avoid MRS. As it turned out, leaving didn't work. They felt emotionally compelled to return... and did... in large numbers. It's unknown when these signs of addiction first manifest themselves, but it is believed it may have begun a year to 18 months before the first case of MRS was reported. No one even noticed the sharp decline in divorce rates (other than a few attorneys) until someone thought to look.
A complete transformation into an adult, biological female finished approximately one year after the first signs of MRS appeared in affected men. Ovulation and menstruation occurred approximately 18 months after the first signs of MRS appeared.
Financial markets remained closed for six weeks. Local shortages of food and supplies began to disappear sooner, shortly after the outbreaks of violence stopped. A worldwide economic recession resulted from the disruption, but a total collapse of the world's financial markets was averted by the six-week closure. When the markets reopened prices fell, but not nearly as far as they could have.
---
Throughout history, human kind has grappled with the question of its origins. In modern times, the question boiled down to a debate between the scientific and religious communities - or "evolution" versus "creationism." Some members of the scientific community tried to assert that one could believe in God AND evolution. Some members of the religious community tried to mix in a touch of evolution with their beliefs, a kind of back-door creationism that came to be known as "intelligent design."
Naturally, I find this debate amusing. I like to think of myself as intelligent, but I'm no more so than my peers. Sure, I know a few things that others don't, but there's nothing mystical about it. I suppose one of their writers was right... technology beyond one's own capability is indistinguishable from magic.
One day, when the people of Earth are ready, they'll learn the truth... that the periods of rapid change throughout their world's development - which their theory of evolution has trouble explaining - does have cause. One day they'll learn their home is not the only home to intelligent life in the universe. When they're ready to set aside their arrogance, they'll find it just as interesting as we did to learn the stories taught in our religious traditions are startlingly similar.
With any luck, this latest tweak will get us all a lot closer to that day.
The End.