by O. Kaysonel
Just a heads up for anyone who wants to start reading this story - it is very much an incomplete work. I had gotten started on it, but just couldn't seem to wrap it up effectively. For all of you who have read what I have written, and were expecting some sort of completion, I sincerely apologize. Next time, I will finish the story before posting it.
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Gradually, consciousness returned after what had felt like a days-long sleep. I moved my hand to my face, rubbing it, and then removing most of the grit from the corners of my eyes. I stretched, attempting to remove some of the dull ache from my body.
“Gawd, I feel like hell,” I thought. “Last time was I felt this rough in the morning was when I drank, and that was close to a decade ago.”
Any further speculation on my physical condition was interrupted by a deep male voice, with a slight accent that I couldn‘t quite place. Midwestern U.S., perhaps? “Ah, good morning, sleepy head. Did you have a good rest?”
I started at the sound, and then surreptitiously reached under the other pillow to retrieve the cheap hunting knife that I kept handy for such unlikely events as someone breaking in to my apartment and watching me wake up. My hand went to close around the hilt, but found nothing. Where was it? I move my hand around a bit, but the knife was nowhere to be found.
A slight humour tinted the man’s voice as he said “You won’t find your weapon there, or anywhere nearby. Besides, I mean you no harm, and I am not here to take your belongings.” His voice took on a curious tone at the word “belongings”, as if they weren‘t worth stealing.
I slowly rolled over, slowly opening my eyes against the all too bright illumination in my bedroom. I wanted to have a look at the person who had invaded my space. I needed to size him up, to see if I could get in a quick kick to his groin before dashing out of bed to call the cops.
As my brain started to process what I was seeing, I began to realize something was wrong. The ceiling was too far up. The walls were a light blue, instead of the white I was accustomed to seeing. The posters were gone. The room was way too large to be my bedroom, or even my living room, for that matter. The furniture, despite having a slight institutional air about it, was much nicer than the department store offerings that I was accustomed to. Was I on some bizarre reality show, where decorators sneak in and remodel people’s apartments while they slept?
“Okay, smart guy, if you aren’t here to harm me, or swipe my stuff, then what DO you want? And what happened to my apartment? Or is this my place? And if not, where the hell am I?” I stopped at that, and cleared my throat - my voice sounded a bit off.
“Well, you are entitled to know that, I suppose. I am Doctor Westham, and you are in my clinic. I am preparing you for a bit of a... journey, you might say.” He paused at that.
I sat up in bed and looked up at him. “A journey, you say? Did I win a trip? Perhaps to the Bahamas? Or a cruise to Alaska? An all expenses paid trip to Europe? I’m just here to receive my immunizations before leaving, right?” The amount of sarcasm increased with each word I spoke.
“No, my dear, you are here to prepare for a trip into... well, the future, you might as well know. You, and many like you, will be heading off to the year 2137.”, he stated, then added hesitantly, “You are needed to ensure the survival of the human race.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? And I suppose you have a time machine set up in the next room?” I was starting to get a little bit worried. Here I was, and who knew exactly where ’here’ was, in a room with no way out. No way out, except past this slightly crazy doctor who abducted people to send them into the ‘future‘.
He coughed slightly, and had the good grace to look a bit ashamed of what he had done so far. He looked down at the floor, and then at me, and said, “If there was any other way, I would not have to resort to these actions. I am a man of morals, and it pains me to do this. However, my era is suffering, and the people of this planet are in danger of becoming extinct. Given that, I have no choice but to help my government with this project.”
Clearly he was upset about all of this. Still, while I felt for him - either because he was insane, or because there was a small chance he might be telling the truth - I did not volunteer for his ’project’. So, I got up out of bed, and walked over to him. “Doc,” I said, putting a comradely hand on his shoulder, “I can appreciate your predicament, but you have put me in a bit of a spot. I have friends and family that may be worried about me. It’s only fair that I should be able to let them know that I am okay. So, if you can take me to a telephone, I would be ever so much obliged.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be worried about that.”, he responded, looking even more ashamed than he was a minute ago. “As far as they are concerned, you are already... dead.”
I removed my hand from his shoulder, walked over to a plush chair in a corner of the room, and sat down heavily. This was getting to be a bit much. I could feel myself begin to hyper- ventilate.
“Dead?” I managed to squeak out (what was with my voice, anyways?). “What do you mean, dead?”
“Just what I said, I’m afraid”, he replied. “The airplane you were piloting had a malfunction, which resulted in a crash landing, and a horrific fire. They were barely able to find any remains, but did locate a piece of your lower jaw. By comparing it to your dental records, they were able to confirm that you were aboard that aircraft.”
“But I haven’t flown for years. And how would they manage to find part of my... Oh. My. God.”, I said as I felt my jaw with my hand. It felt completely different. And the skin felt incredibly smooth. I felt the rest of my face, and noticed how low my hairline was. And how much thicker my hair was. My hands went to the back of my head, and I felt an elastic band holding my much longer hair in a pigtail. How did I miss all of this when I first woke up?
“Is there a mirror here?”, I asked, becoming a bit more panicky.
“Yes, just through that door in the corner”, he responded, pointing the way.
I quickly got up, and practically ran to the bathroom. Reaching in, I fumbled for a second or two to find the switch. Flipping it, the room filled with light. I scanned about for a second - toilet, huge bathtub, sink, full length mirror. I approached it slowly, dreading what I would see. I stepped closer, and the reflection confirmed my fears.
I was simultaneously in shock and awe - the face I saw was that of a woman maybe twenty-two years of age. Dirty blond hair, with just a shade of copper in it. Well shaped eyebrows above beautiful dark, dark brown eyes. The nose, while scarcely petite, was much smaller and more refined than the one I used to have. Full lips. Teeth that were in excellent condition, and appeared even more white against the tanned colour of my skin.
As for the rest, I undid my pyjamas and noticed the camisole and somewhat feminine underwear. I was definitely much lighter than I used to be - maybe 135 pounds or so - and had no body hair. Lifting the camisole, I noticed... not much. My nipples looked a bit larger than normal, but that was about it. I still had my full ‘gear’ under the neutral coloured panties.
After I finished my visual exam of myself and accepted what I saw as real, and not some drug induced illusion, I put my p.j.’s back on. Walking back into the main room, I noticed Doctor Westham was sitting in the armchair opposite of the one I had temporarily occupied. I sat down across from him, gathered my thoughts, and started to speak as he was finally able to meet my gaze.
“Maybe an explanation is in order, Doctor Westham. A very detailed explanation.”
Part 2:
Sorry, folks, but this is only a partial answer. More like a historical basis for what is yet to come. I figured I'd best write something, while the ideas were still fresh in my head, and while I had some free time.
Feedback is welcome, as always.
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“You are absolutely correct” he replied, after a moment’s pause. “I am not sure where to begin. Perhaps a brief history lesson may be in order. History from the 2137 point of view, that is.”
“Sounds like a plan. Make it good, doc. Despite not having any weapons, and despite the fact that I don’t look like much of a scrapper, I will still do my damnedest to put the hurt on you if I feel you have surgically mauled me for no good reason.” My subtle threat lost some of its impact, due to my sounding like an eighteen year old girl.
He smiled at my warning. “Oh, I don’t think you will be harming me in any way, my dear. That little detail has been taken care of, as I have learned from my previous mistakes.” He momentarily rubbed his cheek, as if trying to ease a remembered pain in it.
“Whatever,” I snapped, being a little miffed at his brushing aside my warning, as if it came from a mere child. Being called ‘dear‘ wasn‘t helping my temper, either. “Just get on with your story.”
“Very well”, he responded. “Keep in mind that I will just try to keep this to the bare essentials - to go into any more detail would make the telling of this even more difficult than it already is."
"This century continued with decades of oppression, invasions, and warfare in all of its different flavours. It wasn’t until 2081 that a turning point had been reached. Whether it was the right people being elected at the right time, or that the people of Earth were just tired of fighting, we still don‘t know. What we do know is that change came rapidly, and it affected all aspects of our lives.”
“Most of the petty squabbles, territorial disagreements and small wars had been settled, and it truly looked like a global peace was within sight. Dictatorships and communist regimes fell quickly, and were replaced with much kinder and gentler governments.“
“The majority of nations, after ignoring the signs of climate change for much too long, were taking drastic steps to reverse the damage they had caused. Solar, wind and tidal power , along with radical changes in nuclear technology, had virtually removed the necessity for burning fossil fuels to generate electricity. The sea level had actually dropped! Not by much - just a couple of millimetres - but it was a step in the right direction.”
“Other positive changes had also occurred. There was less poverty and starvation all over the globe. Birth control was no longer considered a sin by any religion. The political and economic power of both corporations and the rich had been greatly reduced.”
“Our planet, while still far from being a utopia, was certainly improving in so many ways”, he faltered after that, unable to continue. A solitary tear streaked down his left cheek. “You would think that after telling this story a few dozen times, that it would become less painful. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to work that way.”
I contemplated my host, and what he had told me so far. If he was delusional, it was a remarkably detailed delusion that he was experiencing. It was also compelling - like reading a novel that you couldn’t put down. I wanted to hear more, even if it turned out to be the fiction of a mad man. The doctor had fallen silent, though. He sat there, staring at the wall above my head, lost in thought.
“So, what happened then?”, I prompted.
He looked off into space for a few more seconds, then took a deep breath and returned his attention to me. Bringing himself back from wherever he was, he continued.
“As you are no doubt aware, anytime there is a challenge to the status quo, some will resist it. It does not matter how good that change may be, or how many will benefit from it - there will always be those that oppose it, especially if they stand to lose something in the process. It is a definitive law of people, just as gravity is a law in the world of physics.”
“Can you imagine the results of what I have just described to you?” He paused for a moment, allowing me to contemplate what those results would be. Corporations and small minded tyrants, suddenly with considerably less, or even no, power or wealth. What would all those people do to regain their previous ‘glory’. I pretty much knew what he was going to say, and it made me rather uneasy.
“Yes, I can tell by the look on your face that you have an idea of what happened next. All of those people and businesses that lost either large sums of money or political clout, or both, took action to regain it. The result was not pretty. And not only did they want what they had back, but some were determined to teach the rest of the world a lesson. They wanted us ‘ordinary folk’ to see what would happen if we ever challenged them again. Thus began a war like none had ever seen before.”
“I suppose we should all be thankful, in a way, that nuclear weapons were not used. Had they been, there would have been absolutely no hope at all, and all of humanity would have been lost.”
“What was used were biological weapons. Almost every nation had been doing research in that field, even if it only meant discovering a way to counteract what another country had developed. The multitude of ways that had been developed to kill one another was absolutely staggering.”
“There were gasses released that would kill livestock and render crops inedible. Other compounds were released that would selectively kill certain groups of people, based upon their blood types, or ethnic backgrounds. The planet’s population was dying off in numbers that boggled the mind. First millions, then tens and then hundreds of millions, and then into the billions. The horror of this world wide war was devastating.”
“The most devastating blow came at the turn of the 22nd century. We have no idea who released the virus that homed in on the XX chromosome, but may they burn in hell for all eternity. Within a year, this disease had killed off more than 95% of the women who had survived the war.”
“The only good that came of this is that it brought an end to the war, once and for all. The leaders of all the countries that had survived the war met, and signed a peace treaty. A hunt for the criminals that were responsible for the greatest destruction visited upon humanity was launched, and many thousands were put to death. It would not bring back the billions who had died, but it would help ensure that such a catastrophe would not be repeated.”
I felt shaken and nauseous, as if I had lived through many weeks worth of nightmares, all in the course of one evening’s sleep. Was any of this true? Could humanity sink so low? And, of course, there were the questions that related to the moment. Namely, what did all of this have to do with me? Why was I here? What plans did he have for me? I had to get a handle on this, and so I fixed my gaze on the doctor and began to speak.
“I can’t begin to imagine what it was like to see horrors like you have seen. You have my deepest, most sincere condolences. Still, I have to ask: What does all of that have to do with me? Why have you altered me, against my will? What do you have planned for me? No matter what has happened, or will happen, I have the right to know.” His answer didn’t help my state of mind in the least bit.
“I was getting to that. All in good time...”
“All in good time?”, I repeated. “This is most definitely NOT a good time. Frankly, my dear doctor, your stalling is really getting on my nerves.”
“So I can tell, my dear...”, he began.
“And would you stop calling me ‘dear‘” I interrupted, “like I am some helpless... woman.” I fairly spat out the last word. “I am not a woman, and I am most certainly not helpless. Let me reword my previous questions in a format that you can hopefully understand: Why have you done this to me?” I actually managed to work some menace into those last seven words, letting him know that my patience was rapidly approaching its end.
He got out of his chair, and walked in the general direction of the door. He stopped and turned to me. “Well,” he said, “how about this: I will explain how all of this relates to you, if you consent to come with me to the examination area. Does that sound reasonable? I need to run a few tests to check on your progress and general health. What I have to explain to you will require even more background, and I am a busy man. Might as well kill two birds with one stone, yes?”
Well, the chance to see the rest of wherever I was staying was too good to pass up. With more information, I would have a better chance of escape. Whether or not this doctor was telling the truth was irrelevant. He still abducted me, and who knows how many others, and needed to be stopped. I got out of my chair, and walked towards him.
“Ah, I’ve seen that look before” he said, as if answering my thoughts. “You are no doubt thinking about getting a look around, so that you can make good your escape. I can assure you that will not be possible. But rather than you taking my word for it, I think you should have a demonstration of what happens when a guest at our facility tries to do something that we do not allow.”
He looked up at the ceiling and said to the air in general, “Deborah?”
“Yes, Doctor?” answered a disembodied woman‘s voice.
“Please show Daisy here the consequence of unacceptable behaviour, such as an escape attempt.”
“Of course, doctor. Ready as always.”
“Sorry, doc, but who is Daisy?”, I asked, fearing I knew the answer already.
“Why, you are, of course. You can scarcely be as pretty as you are and retain your original male name, now can you? I think it is quite a lovely name; don‘t you?”, he replied in a rather condescending tone.
That did it; I was really pissed off. I clenched my right hand into a fist, and lunged towards him, preparing to drive a few teeth down his throat. I made it halfway before every muscle in my body went completely slack. I fell, and was kept from injury only by the doctor catching me.
“That,” he said, as he lowered me gently to the floor, “is the consequence of inappropriate behaviour. Complete loss of control of your voluntary nervous system, via a radio signal to a small implant in your brain. There are a series of small sensors in your cranium that detect the onset of a potentially violent act, and you can see the result. This system is also tied in to all doors and windows in this building. No one leaves without my consent. Oh, and the voice you heard? That is Deborah, the A.I. security system. ’She’ is on duty 24/7, and has yet to be fooled, overridden, or hacked by any guest here.”
“Now then, are you ready to come with me to the examination room? Oh, that’s right - you aren’t in a state to answer. Deborah”, he called out, ”please restore our guest.”
“Right away, Doctor Westham.”
I tentatively moved the fingers on my right hand, then my right arm, and finally other parts of my body. I got myself up off the floor, refusing the assistance that my host offered. I felt no pain, or other physical side effects, from being ‘stunned‘. Still, it was unnerving - being stopped dead in my tracks, with no warning.
“Please, follow me”, the doctor requested. Still a bit off balance by what had just happened, I meekly followed him out the door and down the hall.
As we walked down the corridor, it became apparent to me that this building was not what I imagined it to be. My room, while not something found in a five star hotel, was fairly luxurious compared to the rest of the structure. It had the look of an abandoned warehouse; the kind you would see in the industrial area of just about any major American city. Curious sort that I was, I had to ask.
“Whereabouts are we, doc?”
“I’m going to withhold that information, Aleena. No sense in giving you any more data than you need.”
“I’m sorry, what did you just call me? Aleena? I thought my name was Daisy.”
He let out a short laugh and replied, “Good Lord, no! Are you kidding? Sounds too much like a… what would you call it? Oh, yes, a ‘redneck‘. I only called you that because I wanted you to get really perturbed, so as to trigger the security system to immobilize you.”
“Well, gee, thanks... I guess. For the improved name, at least. Just in case I decide to keep it, and there is no guarantee of that.”
He nodded. A moment later, we reached an elevator. The doctor put his hand on a dark glass plate, and said “Level Four, please.” The door opened, and we stepped in.
There was no time for chat in the lift, as it only took a few seconds to reach its destination. We exited, and I followed my host down yet another hall. In no time, we were in the examination room.
I looked around - it was similar to most examination rooms I had seen over my thirty some odd years of living, with a few differences. It was considerably larger. Some equipment looked very high tech, like something from a sci-fi show. In the centre of the room was an examination table / bed.
Doctor Westham gestured for me to climb up on the table, to which I complied. No sense resisting over such a small issue; I’d end up on the table one way or another, thanks to the doctor and Deborah. I’d wait until I could find a way around the sensors and the A.I. security, then make my move. Such confidence - I could only hope I could back it up with action.
“Now, then.”, he began, “I know you want to hear the rest of the story...”
“I do.” interrupting him, “but first, I’d like to know what else have you done to me? In particular, what other parts of my brain have you messed with? You have gone to the trouble of implanting sensors in my head, and you can stop me dead in my tracks if my actions don’t suit you. What else has been done? Have you altered my thought patterns? Brainwashed me?”
“Actually, nothing else has been done to your brain.”, he responded.
The look I gave him must have indicated the doubt I had of his answer, as he elaborated further.
“Nothing else needed to be done. I have a surefire way of keeping you from escaping, or harming yourself or others. Your own free will determines your actions or decisions. Certainly, there will be certain circumstances or situations where making certain choices will be more difficult. An example of such is the physical changes that you have gone through, and will continue to experience. However, there will be no threat against you, or any thought control processes. I should say, however, that when you make certain choices, that will dictate certain outcomes. Those outcomes will limit further options.”
I sat for a moment, trying to understand what he had said, while he began the examination by shining a light of sorts in my eyes and looking into my pupils with a lens like device. When I had more or less figured it out, I couldn’t help but ask, “Do you enjoy talking like a bureaucrat, doc?”
He smiled at my joke. “Sorry, occupational hazard. I do run this place, after all, so sometimes I speak like one. So, do you understand my statement?”
“I believe so. When I am faced with a fork in the decision road, will I be informed what will happen if I make a certain choice?”
“For the most part, yes. No decision will be rushed, and you will either be told of the consequences, or will be given enough information to figure it out on your own. Fair enough?”, he asked.
“I guess it will have to be. Is there any other option?”
“Regrettably not.”, he replied. “So, can I carry on with why this is happening, and why you were chosen to be a part of the solution to a future crisis?”
“Go for it, doc.”
“To summarize”, he began, as he continued his examination, “due to the war, there were just over one hundred and fifty thousand females who could reproduce. There were, however, over fifteen million men. It was a horrific ratio, to say the least; one that frequently led to fighting and violence amongst males.”
“A variety of solutions, and partial solutions, were proposed. The ban on gay relationships among men, which had been instituted by many oppressive governments, was lifted. Transexualism and transvestitism were encouraged. Polygamy was allowed — women could take multiple husbands.”
“Still, these ideas only went so far to alleviate the problem. We needed more women; not just to provide companionship for men, but to procreate. Their daughters would eventually become wives for the younger males.”
Motioning me to stand up, he moved what appeared to be a hand held metal detector a few inches from my body, from head to toe. He repeated the process for my back and sides.
“Checking for weapons, doc?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“No, smart alec” He replied with a small smile. “It’s a highly sensitive scanner — it checks the health of your skin.”
“To continue: Women were given fertility drugs, to induce twin and triplet births. Our science was sufficiently advanced to provide some rejuvenation for these mothers. They could bear children for up to fifty years.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. “That’s a whole lot of kids, doc. How would they manage to look after a brood that size without burning out, or ending up as a nervous wrecks?”
“Yes, it is somewhat of an issue”, he responded. “Certainly, some of our men were trained in child care, so that these mothers would have more time to look after the younger offspring. But men can only do so much, and young girls need women as role models while they are growing up.”
I felt my insides tighten up upon hearing that. I had a funny feeling that I knew where this was going.
“I can see by the expression on your face that you have figured out what our intentions are,” he stated. “I knew you would catch on fast, judging by your intelligence scores.”
I took a deep breath, and hazarded a guess “You want men to become women, to look after your kids in the future?” I paused a moment, and then asked “But why men from the past? You certainly have an abundance of males in your era. Why did you need to go back in time for personnel?”
“Excellent questions, Aleena. At first, we did recruit males from my time. Psych tests identified the most suited to the task. Still, not that many stepped forward, despite offers of paid housing and a generous salary. Despite the circumstances, the vast majority of males considered their machismo above all else. Volunteering to essentially become a woman was not something they would be willing to do.”
“The next obvious step was to institute a draft. The rioting and violence that resulted to such draconian measures quickly made such a plan unwise. It also went against the spirit of new world wide constitution that had recently been signed by the majority of the governments. To quote the most applicable line: ‘All citizens of the Federation of Nations have the right to be left in peace. Their lives are not to be unnecessarily interfered with by their government.’ ”
“Besides that, the majority of the few thousand that were drafted and,” he paused for a moment, “…converted, did not adapt all that terribly well. The resentment they felt made them unsuitable to the task of looking after children.”
“You didn’t brainwash them to make them more ‘maternal’?”, I asked.
“No, mental conditioning was not allowed, under any circumstances”, he replied.
“All right. So you can’t use unwilling volunteers from your time. How did you end up choosing me, and other lucky contestants? I am correct in assuming there are others, aren’t I?”
“Oh, yes,” he answered. There will be many thousands in a similar situation, world wide.”
“Impressive,” I stated quietly, thinking of the intense amount of planning and coordination such an undertaking would require. “But again, why us?”
“Well, some lawyers and bureaucrats got together and tried to figure out a way out of the corner that the new constitution had painted them into. What they finally decided was that a citizen of the Federation of Nations had to be born after a certain year to qualify as such. The year before the birthdate of the oldest living citizen on Earth was chosen. Anyone born before then basically has no rights, until they attain citizenship.”
Seeing the look on my face, he shrugged and said, “I don’t make the rules, I…”
“…just follow them,” I finished for him. “Yeah, nice reasoning. Justify it however you like — it still doesn’t make it right. Anyways, why me? What makes me such a great candidate? I’m just an average, everyday hetero male. Wouldn’t I just end up like one of your draftees?”
“Do you remember that I stated earlier that it was fortunate that no nuclear weapons were used during the global conflicts?” he answered.
“Sure, I recall that. What bearing does that have on this?”
“Well, not only were we spared any radiation poisoning, but we were spared any EMP’s. With no electromagnetic pulses, information that was stored in our databases was mostly intact, all the way back to the early twenty first century. Certainly, most of that data is useless, except maybe to a few historians.”
“When we looked at the draftees who were successful and happy in their new jobs, we tried to find out what they had in common. This search included what they read and viewed on the internet. Most had viewed transsexual and transvestite web sites, but had never openly admitted it to anyone. They lived their lives like all other hetero males.”
I must have had another one of those looks on my face, because the good doctor was quick to comment on it.
“Yes, Aleena, we know that you viewed many different TV and TS sites. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Furthermore, your viewing habits fit the profile of a successful maternal surrogate in our time. As such, you were a prime candidate for our program. The date of your death was recorded in our historical records, so we took advantage of that information, and basically saved you from that fate.”
I was a bit overcome by all of this. It obviously showed — I must have been as pale as a ghost. The doctor had me lay down on the bed ‘before you fall down’, he had said. I complied — with my brain reeling from what was happening, and what was likely going to happen, I was in no condition to resist. I felt a coolness against my upper arm, then heard a slight hiss. Moments later, I was out like a light.
I awoke with a start. It took me a few moments to get my bearings — I was back in my room. My brain felt a bit fuzzy; probably as a result of whatever the doctor injected me with. I rubbed the spot where the hypo had made contact. There was no soreness, nor any bumps on the skin.
After a few moments, my head cleared. I ran my hand down the length of my arm and marveled at how sensitive it felt. I could feel just the finest hairs, almost more like very fine peach fuzz. I recalled when I had rather thick hair there. It seemed like yesterday, but I knew that wasn’t right.
I turned the bedside light on, and looked around for a clock. I didn’t locate one, but there was a note on the night table. I leaned over a bit and retrieved it. Opening it, I read:
Sorry about having to sedate you. It seemed the most prudent course of action — some guests here”... I snorted at the word ‘guests’ ...“have become violent, or physically ill, upon learning their fate. We can talk later.
Meanwhile, I recommend viewing a bit more about your future home. You will find a remote in the nightstand. Its operation is self explanatory — just follow the menu cues on the screen.
Give me a call when you have reviewed all the information available on the television.
Regards
Phil Westham
I reread the note, and then tore it up into tiny pieces. I deposited the small pile of scrap paper onto the table. I just sort of sat there for a few moments, still not believing what was happening. My emotions quickly rotated between sadness, disbelief, and anger. I wasn’t capable of rational thought for what felt like hours, but was probably only a minute or two.
When my brain stopped chasing itself and settled down, I thought about my life. I focused on my behaviours and actions that seemed to mark me as a prime candidate for this demented program.
Just after puberty started, I discovered the joys of masturbation. Just like any other teenaged boy, I’m sure. But unlike other guys in that age bracket, I soon found myself wondering what sex was like for females. I would look at the pictures in my dad’s porno mags while wanking off, and pretend that I was one of those women.
Soon after, I began pilfering or borrowing women’s clothing at any opportunity I had. I would wear them while stroking myself. I was amazed at the feel of bras and panties. It was weird, though — as soon as I had achieved gratification, I wanted nothing to do with those clothes. I’d return them, or hide them, or throw them away. I wouldn’t necessarily feel bad or guilty about it — I just went back to being a normal teenage boy again.
As I got into my twenties, and started dating, the urge to dress subsided a bit. But soon, the novelty of making love to women soon wore off. I would still spend time making sure that whatever girlfriend I had was satisfied, but when she was out, I’d end up in her clothes when I had the urge for sexual relief.
A bit later on, I discovered the internet. Wow! The pictures were amazing. The only limit was one’s imagination. What I found most fascinating were the pre-op transsexuals. They were so femme, and yet retained that important piece of equipment. I found my fantasies shifting that way. What if I could be a TS? That would be amazing! Still, one thing remained. I only wanted that while I was engaged in auto erotica. As soon as I hit orgasm, the urge went away.
After all, their lives couldn’t be all that pleasant. They were stuck in bodies that they didn’t want. They were most likely ostracized by family and friends, when they began to transition. They could even be the subject of violence in certain circumstances.
Then there was that whole female angle — the clothes, the make-up, the rules, the way women talked about nothing, society’s view of them. That would get pretty old, pretty fast. No, I would just hide in my little fantasy world, and dream of almost being a woman when I needed to. I’d be a normal guy the rest of the time, and that would be that.
My anger rose to the surface. Now, it seems, I no longer had the option. It was being taken away from me, due to the actions of people who weren’t even born yet. The doctor and his dictatorial bosses were robbing me of my life, and I grew more enraged by the second. I sat there and steamed about it, until I finally couldn’t stand it any more. I got out of bed, and stomped over the bathroom. I turned the lights on as I walked over to the full length mirror.
I just stood there, looking at myself for what seemed like forever. My pretty face. My stick like arms, which looked like they contained no muscle at all. My chest, which I could almost swear had grown since I looked at it last. The very faint curve of my hips. Besides a penis, there was basically no trace left of me. The old me. The male me.
My fury, which had been building up since I had woke up, was finally released. An unintelligible scream escaped from my mouth. My right fist moved with speed that surprised me and made contact with the mirror. It disintegrated into a thousand small pieces, like safety glass in a car window.
My rage, unabated, went with me into the living area. I picked up the lamp off the night table and threw it at the far wall. It made a thump as it impacted, then fell to the floor. It lay there, still shining. Next, I picked up the night stand, and tossed it towards the blinds. The drawer opened up in mid-flight, spilling its contents en route. The table hit the blinds, then the carpet, with a thud. I grabbed the edge of the mattress and flipped it over.
My trip over to the closet didn’t help my mood — it contained absolutely nothing masculine. Dresses, slacks, skirts and blouses were quickly tossed to the floor. I shattered the other mirror — the one on the inside of the closet door. The dresser’s contents soon joined the other clothes on the carpet — panties and bras, along with pantyhose and stockings. I tipped the dresser over, as it was too large to pick up and toss.
My rage spent, I surveyed the mess I made. I crossed the room to see what damage the night table had done to the window. None — there was no window behind the blinds, just wall. Other than the two mirrors which broke in a safe fashion, I had really not accomplished anything, except to make a mess.
I walked over to the sofa, and fell face down on to its soft cushions. I lay there for a few moments, my mind a blank, and my emotions in turmoil. My anger was almost gone, and my disbelief was dissipating rapidly. This was real, it seemed. That only left the sorrow and the sadness. I shifted to my side, and then curled up into a ball. I tried to hold them back, but the tears came; slowly at first, and then in a torrent. I lay there sobbing, and asking “Why me?” over and over again.
I jumped slightly as I felt a hand on my head. I looked up, and through my tears, saw Dr. Westham. He gazed down at me, and asked with a smile “Bit of mess you’ve made here, eh?” I just nodded slightly, and continued to cry. “It’s okay,” he said, as he stroked my hair. “It will all work out. You’ll see”.
Gradually my crying stopped, and I slowly drifted into an exhausted sleep.
Folks, I thank all of you who have had the patience to put up with my long intro. Finally, it looks like the story is going somewhere. Not far, but at least a few questions get answered.
As usual, feedback is appreciated.
Part 7:
I awoke to the sound of gentle snoring. I looked around for its source, and found a pretty young woman snoozing in the chair opposite the sofa. She looked to be about 25, had auburn hair, a slight build, and that 'girl next door look' about her. As if she could sense my gaze upon her, she suddenly opened her eyes and looked at me.
“Hello, Aleena. My name is Rachel. How are you feeling?” she asked. Her voice had an ever so slight Irish lilt to it. Very nice.
“I’m fine, but not really”, I replied.
“Understandable, given the circumstances. I’m here to help you adjust to your new life. Phil figured it would be better if I talked with you, as you may have a bit of hostility towards him.”
I couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. “Yeah, I may just be a bit angry towards him. I understand what he is trying to do, and I sort of respect it, but at the same time…” I paused, to gather my thoughts. “I am a bit pissed about what has happened to my body, and my life, and this future that seems to be preplanned for me without my consent.”
“Of course”, Rachel responded. “However, you should know a few things about what is going on, and why, and the changes that are taking place.”
“Do tell. It would seem that I am not going anywhere soon, and I have an empty schedule.” Rachel looked like a nice girl, and I hated sounding sarcastic while talking with her. It seemed, however, that it would be a while before I was completely sociable again.
She smiled again, and began her explanation of what was.
“First of all, I should tell you that I am essentially in the same position as you are. Basically, I was abducted from my life, and brought here without permission. I guess because I have adapted so well, and because I have a Masters degree in psychology, I am sort of a “transition social worker”.
“I had a thriving psychology practice, a nice house, a cottage, and a few very good friends. However, I also had a penchant for crossdressing. You should know, however, that is not the only reason I was brought here, and the same goes for you, as well.”
I raised an eyebrow at this, and motioned for her to carry on.
“You see”, she continued “the psych profile they used, based upon data obtained from the internet and email records, indicated that I love kids, which is very true, I wanted to have a family, but various factors got in the way of that.”
“Your profile indicates that you also wanted to have a family, even if you didn’t admit it to yourself. Any photos of you and, say, your best friend’s kids reveal a great deal about your personality.” She paused to hand me a folder that was sitting on the coffee table.
I opened it up, and looked at pictures that were taken five or more years ago. They were of me hanging out with Frank (my best friend from high school) and his family at their cabin by the lake. I was having a water fight with his son and daughter in one photo; riding a bike with his son in another; and reading a bedtime story to his daughter in the next photo. Now that Rachel told me, I could see how happy I was around those kids. Thinking about it brought a tear to my eye — I would not likely ever see Tim or Ginny again.
There were other pictures in the folder, along with what appeared to be printed copies of
emails. I didn’t feel like looking at them at that moment. Rachel had since moved to sit beside me. She put a comforting hand on my shoulder, then said, “I know — I will miss my friends’ kids as well. Still, I had to show you that, just so you understand some of the logic of why you were chosen. It’s more than just men who can be women — it’s family oriented people who can raise the children of the future.”
I nodded, and did my best to put my sorrow aside. “Okay, it does make more sense now. I had some fear that they were just looking for sex objects for the men of the future. Still, how does all of this work? I understand the why of it, but where do I fit in?”
“Simple: you have the opportunity to be the ‘maternal surrogate’. And you will notice that I used the word opportunity in that sentence. No one will force you, or brainwash you, or anything along those lines. However, it is doubtful that you will refuse. One of the other criteria for choosing maternal surrogates is that they must be compassionate people. And you are that — despite your quirky nature” she said, your eyes glittering with amusement. It was disconcerting that someone I didn’t know seemed to know me so well.
“So, what does a ‘maternal surrogate’ do, exactly?” I asked.
“Well, you take over the care of a child after it is born. You are effectively his or her mother. Depending upon the circumstances, you may choose to raise the little one in the birth mother’s home, or at a dormitory where other surrogates live. Or”, she said, wagging her eyebrows, “you may end up raising the child along with the biological father. All sorts of interesting possibilities there, si?”
“Um, you mean…?” my voice trailed off as I considered the last part of her sentence.
“Absolutely! Why not?”
“Well, I’ll give that its due consideration. Moving on, then; why would I voluntarily become a maternal surrogate?”
“Well, think about it — there are a lot of children being born… well, they are going to be born. Damn these time paradoxes!” she looked momentarily confused before continuing, “Anyways, they will need proper care. They will need a mother. Despite how you may feel about it right at this moment, as the hormones change your body and your psyche, you will eventually become much more like a woman. You will feel maternal instincts. You can fight that, and stay out of it, or you can give in to what will happen, and make the right choice. There will be other factors to be taken into account, but those will be discussed as they become more relevant. I will only say this — it will be next to impossible to turn away. They have planned it as such, without the use of thought control, or force. In a way, it is sheer genius.”
“So, have you been to this future? You seem to know a lot about it.” I asked.
“No, not yet. I should have been on my way, but like I said before, I am needed here to help newbies adapt. Probably I will be in a pod in about a year from now.”
“I’m sorry — a pod?” I asked. “What is that all about?”
“Well, they could transfer us to our destination via time travel, but it is somewhat dangerous, and uses enormous amounts of energy. That much energy is not readily available in this era. So, we are each placed in an advanced hibernation / transformation pod. While we are going ahead over one hundred years in the future, we will only age about one and a half years. In that time, we can learn what we need for our future jobs, and our bodies will complete their transition their sexual transition.”
“So, we become women?” I asked?
“Some do, but only a few. They are the ones who wanted to be women before they were brought here. They won’t be genetic women, however, due to fears of the virus that annihilated most of the females. All changes are done by surgical methods. The rest of us will become what you would refer to as pre-op transsexuals. Unless someone was to look at your genitals, however, they would be very hard pressed to tell you from a ‘real’ female.”
“Ah, I see”, I said, after a few moments of contemplation, then asked. “So, when does my ‘journey’ begin?”
“In about a week”, Rachel replied, then smiled. “You are so lucky!”
“Yeah, real lucky”, I muttered to myself.
At long last, I got off my butt, and sat down to continue my neglected story.
Comments or questions, anyone?
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From Part 7
“So, we become women?” I asked?
“Some do, but only a few. They are the ones who wanted to be women before they were brought here. They won’t be genetic women, however, due to fears of the virus that annihilated most of the females. All changes are done by surgical methods. The rest of us will become what you would refer to as pre-op transsexuals. Unless someone was to look at your genitals, however, they would be very hard pressed to tell you from a ‘real’ female.”
“Ah, I see”, I said, after a few moments of contemplation, then asked. “So, when does my ‘journey’ begin?”
“In about a week”, Rachel replied, then smiled. “You are so lucky!”
“Yeah, real lucky”, I muttered to myself.
------------------------------------------------
And so my week began. Well, actually, it was only 6 days. It seemed to both fly by and drag interminably. She answered whatever questions she could about my future, and how to adapt to a very unique situation.. Along with that, there were lessons on makeup and hairstyling, along with how to act like a lady. The instruction on choosing the right clothes and shoes for the each occasion amused me, mainly because it seemed to reinforce a cliché. I hadn’t dated any women with a wardrobe anywhere near as extensive as the one that I now had. I wonder if any of them would have been jealous.
“You mean to say I need all these types of bras?? You’re kidding? Please tell me you are joking!” I exclaimed at one point.
“Nope. No joke”, she answered with a smile. “Once you develop, and you will develop, you are going to need something to hold the ‘twins’ in place. Nothing is more uncomfortable than having your boobs bouncing all over. I’m not quite a B cup, and I have to wear a good sports bra to hold them in place when I go jogging. So, quit your bitchin’, and pay attention. You’ll thank me later.”
I shut my mouth, and listened to Rachel continue to talk about sports bras, underwire bras, strapless bras, and the like. I looked down at my chest, and wondered how big my tits were going to end up. Geez, I hope they weren’t going to be monsters. I felt sorry for women sporting those DD+ breasts — the constant pull of that much flesh must be annoying.
As much as Rachel taught me, I couldn’t help get the feeling that there was a lot missing from her instruction. I asked her about this on the second last day.
“You’re right — there is a lot more. You’ll learn the rest in the pod.”
I was puzzled, and it must have shown on my face.
“Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it. You will be in a state of near unconsciousness for the duration. However, your brain will still be functioning at a lower level. You won’t be aware of the passage of time, but you will still be capable of learning various tasks, behaviours and the like. We take advantage of that by better preparing you for your future. Besides, it’s not like there are a lot of women available to teach new arrivals what they need to know. ”
“Hold on. Hold on!” I was a bit pissed about this. “I was told by both you and the good doctor that there would be no attempt made to brainwash me. Yet, this involuntary education sounds exactly like that. No one asked if I would be interested in this, or if I wanted it. It’s not like I could walk out in the middle of ‘class’ if I didn’t like what I was hearing or seeing.”
“Well, how do you expect to learn enough to function in society a hundred years from now?” she asked, remaining calm.
“I’ll figure it out somehow or another. What’s going to happen if I mess up on occasion? Will I be pitched in jail? Beaten? You can’t tell me that other new women don’t make the occasional error. What happens to them?” I demanded. My new voice still sounded odd to me, especially when I was mad.
“No, no one is harmed, and I’m sure that there are occasional slips in behaviour. We simply want you, and the girls like you, to feel comfortable as women when you arrive in the future.”
“Well, I vote no to the curriculum that has been chosen. That is my final decision.” I crossed my arms across my chest, my posture making my defiance clear.
“Okay, fine. I’ll tell Phil. I’m sure he will agree…”, she said.
I cut her off with “He damned well better agree.”
“Alright, you’ve made your point. The question now is: what do you want to learn? You are going to have the equivalent of close to two years learning time ahead of you while you are in the pod. What knowledge would you like to acquire?”
I thought about that for a few moments before speaking. “I would like to learn about the events leading up to the war. In addition, I would like to gain an in depth knowledge of the technologies of the future, with the focus being on electronics, vehicles, and power systems.” I paused for a few moments, and then added “Can I also be taught martial arts? I know it is more a physical learning than intellectual, but at least I will know what to practice when I get there.”
“You know that violence is not acceptable where you are going, right?”
“If you think martial arts are just about violence, you are not as smart as I thought you were, Rachel”, I replied, with more than a tinge of sarcasm in my voice. “Martial arts are more a state of mind, and a way of achieving self discipline.”
“Okay, no need to be catty, Aleena”, Rachel responded.
“Sorry”, I said. “It won’t happen again. This whole involuntary education thing set me on edge.”
“Forgiven” she said, her smile returning. “I should have guessed that you would react a little differently than most of the girls passing through here. You are a quirky individualist, and I’m really going to miss you when you leave.”
“Thanks, Rach.” I got out of my chair and gave her a hug. “I’ll miss you too. Will we see each other when you arrive?”
“Maybe. I’m not a 100% certain, but I’ll see what Phil can do. I’d like very much to continue our friendship.”
“Me too. Oh, and speaking of Phil, can you arrange for him to come visit me before I leave? There is something I’d like to discuss about the surgeries that will be done while I am in the pod.”
“Sure, Aleena. I can do that.”
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Before I knew it, the time had arrived. I got up at 7:30 a.m., did the usual routine in the bathroom (minus makeup and hair styling), and drank the liquid breakfast that was in the fridge. I put on a soft pink robe that came down just past my knees, and waited for my friend and counselor to arrive .
Rachel had met me at my quarters, and walked with me to the entrance of the pod bay. We talked and chatted on the long trip, which included two lift trips. The complex was large beyond belief. How they managed to build it and hide its purpose from the local authorities amazed me.
Phil had told Rachel that she would be assigned to the West Coast region, where I would be living, so the chances were good that we could continue our rapidly growing friendship when she arrived.
When we walked up to our destination, Phil was waiting for us. Rachel gave me a hug, and said, with her voice breaking from emotion, “See you on the other side, Aleena."
I felt my eyes burning as I returned the embrace. “ Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” She stepped back, gave me one last smile, and then quickly retreated. I stood there, watching her walk away.
“She doesn’t make friends easily”, said Phil, interrupting my thoughts. “You must be a special person.”
“Maybe, who knows? She is good people, to be certain. I can see why you kept her here to help the new people.”
“Yes. She makes up for my lack of interpersonal skills, and shows the recruits that life won’t end, just because of a change in venue,” he paused, then added “And gender, I suppose.”
“Well, shall we get this show on the road, doc?” I asked.
“Don’t tell me you are anxious to get under way?”
“Well, considering I don’t have any choice in the matter, I might as well accept it. I’m not thoroughly pleased, but I will adapt and thrive, like I have in the past. Without meaning to brag, that is simply my nature.”
“Too bad you don’t have a psych major — I could use your help here. Alas, it is not meant to be. Please, come with me, Aleena.” With that, he swiped his palm over the reader plate beside the portal. The massive doors slid aside, and the sight that greeted my eyes was amazing. There were countless pods, arranged in what seemed like endless rows.
“Don’t let your senses fool you.” The doctor must have seen the look on my face. “There are just over 5000 pods here. It just looks like there is a lot more.”
“Still, that is a lot”, I responded. “How many are occupied?”
He consulted a readout on his left. “3,412 are currently being used.”
“Thirty four hundred? Geezus, that is a lot of lives you have fucked up, doc!” I shouted, feeling my anger and fear rising. "I thought I had accepted this fate, but maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.”
“Please don’t start, Aleena. It isn’t like I am the only one working here. And besides, we are all working to save the future of humanity.”
“Yes, of course. That tired old excuse. Well, maybe I don’t want to be part of your master plan! Maybe I want out!” And with that, I turned on my heel and walked out the door.
“Aleena. Aleena!” I could hear my name being called. “Fine, be that way. Deborah, if you please.”
I knew I didn’t stand a chance. Deborah, the A.I. guard system, had already stopped me dead in my tracks three times in my stay at the facility. Once as a demonstration of ‘her’ abilities, once when I tried to hack into the computer system, and once when I made a jump for an exit door. Once again, I felt my body go slack, due to an electrical discharge of the implant in my brain.
As I lay there, immobilized, Dr. Westham came over. After removing my robe, he picked me up. “Oh, you are going to be a handful for some lucky guy a hundred years from now, aren’t you?” he said with a laugh. “Well, let that be a lesson to them, I suppose. They deserve it.”
He carried me over to a pod, and placed me inside. It was incredibly comfortable, but just a bit too cozy for my tastes. I felt a hypo hiss against my arm. “That should help you relax, and eventually sleep. I know most girls find these chambers a bit claustrophobic.”
He continued his preparation work. A small item was stuck to each of my arms and legs, and two on my torso. “Those are for osmosis feeds. They are like an IV, but don’t penetrate the skin. They will provide nutrition, as well as the hormones and chemicals required for your change. As well, a certain compound will be released to keep you immobile when various automated microsurgeries are performed”, he said.
Next, a high tech headset was placed over my head. The doctor’s voice came through the earbuds. “This is for the educational portion of your stay in the pod. It provides the audio and visual feed, in order for you to learn new skills. As you discussed with Rachel, the program will contain the martial arts, technology and history information you requested.”
“However”, he added, “that still left you with the equivalent of almost four months learning time empty. I sorted through other possible choices, and managed to fill an additional two months with information somewhat relevant to what you had requested, or somewhat suitable to your personality type. That left two months with no content.”
I could only mentally cringe, as I had a feeling that I knew what was coming.
“Therefore, I decided to fill that space with a streamlined version of the child care and education programs, along with the first levels of the 'Motherhood' and 'Ladylike Behaviours and Attitudes' courses. It should, for the most part, leave your psyche untouched. I am very sorry about that. Please understand that I am doing it for your own good. You could end up being a social outcast if you don’t display appropriate mannerisms in your new environment.”
I tried to summon a good rage. Oh, how I tried. But whatever the ‘good’ doctor had shot me full of was making me too tired to care. Maybe we would meet in the future. Then I would kick his ass, the bastard. Until then…. until then…
I slept.