From tigger@alices.REMOVE.com Sat Sep 13 20:41:42 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Objection  (TG,  nc, dark themes)
From: tigger@alices.REMOVE.com
Date: Sat, 13 Sep 1997 20:41:42 -0400
--------
Objections
by Tigger Copyright 1997                          
All rights reserved                               

Reposting or Archiving permitted provided no fee is charged
for the site or for the anthology in which the story appears,
and provided that my name and copyright are honored.
 
This story is a work of erotic fiction intended for the
private enjoyment of legal adults residing in localities where
such things are legal.  

Author's note.  This story is a departure from my usual work. 
Normally, I focus on the romantic side of eroticism (at least
as defined by my own tastes.)  You might even call this one
a horror story.  A mild one, but again, it is my definition of
horror that it has to fit.

Objections

Jerry Parks sat with his very best friend, Mark Jenkins, and
watched President Gingrich's address on television.  Jerry had
thought that things could not get much worse, but he'd been
wrong time and time again.  The world, or rather *his* world,
just kept getting steadily worse.

The dark times had begun a little over six months ago, when a
in-flight disaster had occurred onboard the President's
personal aircraft, Air Force One.  The plane had crashed into
the North Atlantic while en route to Moscow for a historic
event - the signing of a treaty that would have banned all
nuclear weapons.  The treaty was never signed because the
President and the Vice President were both killed, along with
most of the major Cabinet Secretaries.

A nation in mourning still required leadership - the
succession of a new President was something the people needed.
Jerry silently wondered if this was a case of what happened
when you wanted something badly enough.  What you got was
likely to be pretty bad.  The Constitutional Amendment that
was added following the Kennedy assassination designated the
Speaker of the House of Representatives as the next in line
for the Presidency after the Vice President.  Thus, it was
Speaker Newt Gingrich, fresh from his victory over the
dissident members of his own congressional delegation, who
ascended to the Presidency of the United States.  And
President Gingrich had declined to sign the treaty.

The loss of the peace-oriented President had been a major blow
to many of the young people of the United States, Jerry and
Mark among them.  They both agreed that two years of Gingrich
as President was about the worst thing that could possibly
happen to the Country.  

They had been wrong.

Less than a month after the plane crash, a mixed bag of neo-
communists, religious revolutionaries and other
disenfranchised poor people rebelled against the government of
the Philippines.  What these people were fighting *for* was
never clear since the various groups had very little in
common.  What was clear was that they were fighting *against*
the duly elected government of the Philippines and *that* was
unacceptable to President Gingrich.  And shortly after that,
"evidence" came to light connecting the dissident factions of
the Philippines with the crash of Air Force One.

With both Houses of Congress controlled by Republicans,
Gingrich had received no significant opposition when he
deployed U.S. forces to Manilla and then reactivated the U.S.
military installations at Clark Air Force Base and Subic Bay. 
What followed was six months of bloody fighting and
destruction.  In a situation where it was difficult, if not
impossible, to tell friend from foe, mistakes happened. 
Mistakes that involved the killing of the innocent.  Mistakes
that the anti-Gingrich press called atrocities.  Jerry and
Mark agreed, and they had thought it could not get any worse.  

They had been wrong.

The country became sharply divided over the War in the
Philippines.  Antiwar sentiments ran high among the young. 
Flags were burned and large scale demonstrations against the
war became riots.  It was the Vietnam War years all over
again.  In several confrontations between protesters and law
enforcement, young people were hurt and in some cases, killed. 
The press managed to get most of these incidents on film, and
the television screens of America ran red with the bloody
depictions.  Jerry and Mark were sickened by the sight of
their peers dying and bleeding.  They *knew* it could not get
any worse.  

And once again, they were completely and absolutely wrong.

This, then, was the background against which President
Gingrich made his address to the nation.  The previous
administration had wanted to find other uses for money than
maintaining the military, and they had found them.  Over the
six years of his Presidency, the dead President had managed to
downsize the armed forces at a rate unseen since the end of
the Second World War.  The reduction in forces, coupled with
the demands of live combat, left U.S. forces badly
overextended soon after Gingrich had committed them to the
Philippine Conflict.  The heavy losses endured by the units
initially sent in to quell the uprising required immediate
reinforcement.  Reinforcement that, according to the
President, was beyond the capability of the post Cold War
military, even with the wholesale call-up of every available
reserve unit in the Army.  The country simply did not have
adequate numbers of soldiers to meet "our sacred commitments". 

With that grave pronouncement, the President stated that he
was reestablishing the Selective Service by Executive Order.
Young men would begin being processed into the armed forces
within the month.

Mark and Jerry were both nineteen years old, and therefore
knew that they would be among the first to receive their
"greetings from the President.  It could *not* possibly get
any worse.  Depressed beyond words, the two friends had parted
to find solace with their families.

The next day, Jerry opened the door to his parents' house to
find Mark standing on the doorstep.  Oddly, his friend had a
huge smile on his face.  "Got some great news, ole buddy. 
Wait till you hear what I found out last night."  Mark said as
he came into the house.

The two friends sat down and Mark began.  "I think I have
found us a way out, Jerry."

"You mean there is a way for us not to get drafted?  I thought
they did away with those deferment things back in the
sixties."

"Yep, they did, but they have not changed the Selective
Service law since they made that particular change.  The law
has been on the books, but no drafts have been required, so
the Presidents have never used it for anything.  Anyway, I
looked up the law last night on the 'net and found some very
interesting stuff."  Mark grinned.  "It is really old, Jerr. 
That is why they said they were going to draft only guys.  The
law predates women in combat and is gender specific.  The law
says specifically that they *can't* draft women."

"Great.  If I get a sex change operation, then I can't be
drafted.  Shit, Mark, I thought you said you found something
that would help."  Jerry was disgusted.

Mark looked aggrieved.  "I did.  I was just telling you how
old the law is.  There are a couple of outs.  In my case,
there is a clause that precludes sending the only surviving
male of a family line to a combat zone.  Dad passed away last
summer and I am now the only male in my whole family.  I can
join the military, let them give me training in whatever, and
know that I am not going to get shot at.  Cool, huh?"

Jerry had to agree that it was. At least, it was cool for
Mark.  Jerry's own Dad was still alive and two years ago, his
Mother had surprised the entire family by getting pregnant. 
His one-year-old brother ensured that Jerry would not have
Mark's option.  If he joined the army, he *was* going to be
getting shot at.  Jerry was glad for his friend's sake.  At
least, he tried to convince himself that he was.

"That's great, Mark, but it doesn't do much for me."

"Yeah, I know, but there is another out.  Conscientious
Objector status.  That means that, as a man of deep moral
conscience, you cannot participate in a war without
compromising your beliefs.  All you have to do is prove that
you are personally and morally unable to take another life, or
to fight in any way.  Hell, man, you wouldn't even go to gym
when we had wrestling, and you've never gone hunting with me."

"So, how do I get to be an "Objector", and prove all those
things to someone whose goal in life is to send me off to get
my ass shot off?  What do I have to do and what does it mean?"

"You have to pass some tests, psychological type things, I
guess, while they try to prove that you aren't really a
passivist.  If you pass, then the worst that happens is that
you may have to do some kind of alternative service - you know
- like the Peace Corps."

"Sounds like proving that might be pretty tough." Jerry
observed.

"Probably is.  Those diehard military types won't take kindly
to letting you get out of being a target.  Still, it is a
chance and if you prepare for it, you ought to be able to pull
it off.  We can role play it so you can figure out what you
are going to say ahead of time."

Two weeks later, the first Draft Lottery since the Viet Nam
War era was held on national television.  The short notice
precluded any organized protests.  

Jerry's and Mark's birthdays were in the first twenty five
chosen, assuring them being among the first young men called
up to serve in the armed forces.  Mark enlisted immediately,
assuring himself of the type of training he wanted.  Jerry had
to wait for the summons before he could declare himself as a
conscientious objector.

The "Greetings from the President" arrived two weeks later. 
Jerry went to the induction center and informed the recruiting
sergeant that he wanted to apply for C.O. status.  What
followed was two weeks of absolute hell.  A multitude of
unpleasant, obnoxious people did their level best to make
Jerry recant, or to prove that Jerry was not *really* averse
to killing.  In the end, the fact that he had refused to go
hunting, refused to even handle firearms, worked in his favor.

Jerry and three other young men were summoned to the office of
the commanding officer of the induction center.  Surprisingly,
the commanding officer was a woman who wore the uniform of a
Navy Captain.  She was almost attractive in a hard, sharp-
featured sort of way.  Jerry saw her grimace of disgust as he
and the others filed in.  She did not offer them a seat.

"Gentlemen," her tone dripping with disdain.  "You have the
*honor* of being the first approved Conscientious Objectors in
almost two decades."  Her lips curved into a smirking smile
that made Jerry's gut clench.  "By order of the President,
every male of service age will serve his country in some
manner during this time of crisis.  You gentlemen will be
leaving tomorrow for a site in Arizona where you will be
trained for your new duties."

One of the other men raised his hand and was permitted to
speak.  "But we won't be required to kill anyone, right?"

"That is the law, young man." was the quick reply.  "But you
will need physical training and skills training since your new
tasks have the potential to be quite arduous.  You will need a
complete medical work up, inoculations and other treatments. 
All of this will be part of your six months of training. 
After that, you will owe the government four years of service
before you can return to civilian life."

"Four years??"  Jerry was so aghast, he did not ask for
permission to speak.  "But the draftees are only in for two
years."

The dark smile returned.  The Captain was enjoying this part. 
"Quite right, and if you wish to accept honorable military
service, that is still an option.  Otherwise, you are required
to enlist in the alternative service program, and any
enlistment in any service is a minimum of a four year
commitment.  Your choice."

Caught, Jerry thought.  Aloud he said, "I cannot kill another
human being, Ma'am.  I will enlist in your alternative
service.  What is it called, anyway."

Disturbingly, the Captain's smile widened at that.  "Oh, we
don't have a name for the group yet, but when you get down to
it, it does sound very much like the Peace Corps.  Is that
all?" she asked.  When there was no answer, she motioned them
to door.  "Very well. Good luck, then, gentlemen.  We will
meet again.  In fact, I am being transferred to head up the
installation where you are being sent for training."

Somehow, that did not make Jerry feel any better.

After that dismissal, everything happened at hyper speed.  The
four new alternative service recruits were whisked away to the
local airport and then hustled on to a waiting transport
aircraft. The installation must have been somewhere in
Colorado, because their flight terminated in Denver.  From
there, they were taken by bus to a place high in the Rockies.

The camp consisted of an inner compound that was about the
size of a large community college campus surrounded by a
fenced outer perimeter.  Both the inner and outer fences were
barbed wire topped by concertina wire, and Jerry thought he
saw Doberman Pincher dogs patrolling the outer perimeter. 
Armed guards patrolled the entry ways into the inner and outer
perimeter. Tall, girdered guard towers stood out in stark
contrast against the alpine backdrop of the Rocky Mountains,
giving the place a distinctly prison-like aura.   Whatever was
going on here, Jerry decided, was very serious.

Surprisingly, the amenities of his assigned rooms, or quarters
as the female army sergeant called them, were quite nice.  He
had two rooms, a sitting room complete with a television and a
fairly nice stereo setup, and a bedroom, and a private
bathroom.  The color scheme was a little odd, though.  Maybe
pink paint had been low bid when they built this place, Jerry
thought.

Jerry was about to see what else was around when the female
sergeant returned.  She was rather cute, he thought.  She was
a petite lady, maybe three or four inches over five feet tall
in her utility combat boots - easily a head shorter than
Jerry. The trousered, camouflage uniform she wore did very
little to show off whatever figure she might actually have. 
It did show that she was slender and that was about it.  Her
hair was mostly hidden under her "Smokey Bear" hat, but it
seemed to be dark colored.

"Mr. Parks?  My name is Sgt. Evans."  Her voice was low and
non-threatening. Jerry began to relax.  "I am your recruit
training leader.  It is my job to get you where you have to be
on time, and to get you ready for your new duties as quickly
as possible.  If you cooperate with me, it will be fairly
easy.  Give me a hard time, and we will still get what needs
doing done, but it will be very unpleasant for you."

"I gave my word, Sergeant.  So long as the government keeps up
its side of the deal, I will keep up mine, and that means
following your orders."  Jerry tried to sound mature and calm
but he thought he heard his voice quaver.

"Very well, then."  She handed him a package.  "You will put
on what is inside that box, put what you have on inside it and
give it back to me."  Jerry took the box curiously, and
hesitated momentarily.  "I mean *now*, mister." the sergeant
said sharply.  "We have to get you to medical in fifteen
minutes.  That is your uniform, now go change.  Skin out, Mr.
Parks.  I expect to see undies in there, too."

Jerry hustled into his bedroom and skinned down before opening
the package.  It was the strangest clothes he had ever seen. 
It was a one piece coverall type garment that went from his
neck to his wrists to his ankles. There was a front closing
zipper that went from his crotch to his throat.  The thing
seemed too impossibly small to ever fit him, but it also
appeared quite stretchy. Jerry decided he would try before
complaining about the sizing.  He really did not want to piss
off the little sergeant on his first day.

The underwear was very silky, unlike anything he had ever worn
before, but both the shorts and the strange undershirt
stretched to fit.  He hoped that those thin shoulder straps
would hold up under normal wear.  

There were no socks in the box. The shoes were sort of a lace
up ankle boot.  The soles of the shoes were thick and the
heels were elevated so that Jerry looked about two inches
taller.

He rushed to put on the odd clothes and was mildly astonished
when the bodysuit actually stretched enough to fit him. It was
like wearing a second skin, but he was able to close the
zipper on it.  With his shoes on and tied, he hustled out to
the sergeant.

She made no comment on the outfit, and there were no mirrors
in the room, so Jerry did not notice the color of his suit
changing as it warmed to his body temperature.  Soon, it
matched the color of his room.  

"Come along, Mr. Parks.  The doctors are waiting."

The two doctors were also women.  He was told just to call
them "Doctor", but they called each other Gloria and Gwen. 
The medical tests and examinations were mostly routine.  He
got poked, prodded, bled and inoculated, but there were a few
oddities that Jerry wanted to ask about.  

The first strange thing was that they took a sperm sample from
him.  He had never had that done before.  When he asked, the
two doctors ignored him.  The second really odd thing occurred
when they examined his nipples, even going so far as to insert
a needle into each one and withdrawing some tissue for some
type of test.

The whole thing took almost five hours and by the time it was
finished, Jerry was exhausted.  The sergeant appeared and took
him back to his room where a meal had been laid out for him on
the coffee table in his sitting room.  He ate every bite, and
then fell into bed.

Jerry awoke the next morning to the accompaniment of reveille
being played over a speaker near his bed.  Still tired, he
dragged himself out of bed.  He hurt everywhere.  His butt and
arms hurt from all the injections.  His head ached, probably
from stress.  His nipples were incredibly tender where the
tissue samples had been taken.  And his groin was *painful*. 
He felt like he had been kicked in the balls.  A reaction to
one of the inoculations, perhaps?  Jerry hoped so.

In the sitting room he found a light breakfast and another
package with clean clothes.  He got dressed, finding it more
easy to manage the unfamiliar clothing this time and settled
down to eat.  

Sergeant Evans arrived just as he was finishing his food. 
"Come along.  Time for your morning P.T., Mr. Parks.  Since
this is your first day at altitude, we will take it easy on
you today.  Don't want you passing out from the thin air.  A
quick three mile walk about the compound."

The "quick" three mile walk nearly killed him.  There was *no*
air.  He did his best to keep up with her, but it was very
hard and in the end, she let up on him for the last lap around
the fence. 

After that, he was taken back to the clinic for more shots and
another sperm sample.  He asked about that again, and was
again ignored.  The rest of the day was spent with the
Sergeant, exercising gently and learning his way around the
camp.

It was not until the end of the day, after the sergeant had
left him to his evening meal, that Jerry realized something. 
Except for the guards at the outer gate, and for the other
guys running around in pink jump suits (Evans had said that
the color changing was a side effect of the special material
used in making the outfit), the only other people in the camp
were women.

And so his days went, filled with medical visits and exercise
sessions.  Whatever they had planned for him, he evidently
needed to be fit and healthy to accomplish it.  He was
definitely in the best shape of his life.  Evans had him
running in very short order, doing aerobics and weight work.

He certainly seemed to be slimming down, but the stretchy
outfit continued to hug his body like a glove.  He still hurt,
though, especially in his groin and around his nipples, but
when he asked about that, the two doctors told him that was
normal for the inoculation regimen they were giving him.

What was not normal was the continued sperm sampling.  It was
getting hard for him to give one.  He really wished there was
a male doctor he could talk to about this, but there wasn't
one.  It sure as hell was not something he was going to
discuss with a female doctor.

Then, one evening, about five weeks into his training, he
noticed something about his shoes.  The soles were almost two
inches thick now, and the heels were two inches higher than
that.  How could he not have noticed that?  Wouldn't he have
seemed taller?  Wouldn't he have noticed that compared to
Evans?

Jerry's confusion was noted by a woman seated in front of a
surveillance station in another part of the dormitory.  She
pressed a button and was instantly joined by another woman,
this one in uniform.

"Parks has noticed the elevated shoes, Captain.  He will now
be aware of his reduced stature the next time he faces Sgt.
Evans."

The Captain watched him as he continued to stare at the shoe,
looking up only when one of the doctors arrived to join her. 
"Well, Gloria, is he ready?"

Gloria nodded.  "Last sample was pure seminal fluid, no sperm
at all.  He is effectively neutered.  His physical changes
have been remarkable, too.  He is almost four inches shorter
and twenty pounds lighter than he was at the beginning of the
treatment.  It is a good thing that Evans wore her own
elevated shoes from the start or he'd have caught on too soon. 
But to answer your question, Captain, he is ready.  We can
give him the final treatment at any time."

The Captain pushed another button on the watchstander's
console and watched as a pale mist filled Jerry's room.  The
effect of the gas was almost immediate.  In moments, he
collapsed across the bed, deeply asleep.  "Very well, Doctor. 
Let's see if this works as well *for* the government as it did
when you were playing vigilante.  Administer the treatment as
soon as the gas clears."

Gloria nodded somberly, and left to get Gwen and their drugs.

Jerry fought his way through the darkness, trying to find the
light.  He felt so . . . so strange.  Above him, he heard
sounds.  No, they were voices.  Why couldn't he understand
what they were saying.  He tried to talk, tried to ask them to
help him.  Even he could not understand the sounds that came
out of his throat, or recognize the voice as his own.

Suddenly, the voices above him changed.  They became sharper,
louder.  He could almost make out . .

". . . e's trying to come out of the coma!" The voice was
feminine and very excited.  "Get Doctor Gloria and Doctor Gwen
- STAT!"

Those commanding tones sounded familiar.  He knew them.  Sgt.
Evans, he thought and smiled.  She had not left him alone. 
She was going to help him.

A door crashed open and a cacophony of noise enveloped him. 
Cool hands felt his forehead.  "Gwen, Evans, get the
restraints.  We don't want the patient hurting herself.  The
transition is almost complete, and the worst of the pain is
over, but the possibility of self injury still exists."

Strong hands took his and pulled them above his head.  Straps
were tightened and he could not move his arms.  The hands
moved to his ankles and did it again.

"Mmmmmmmnmphhhhh." Jerry tried to protest, but could not
control his mouth and tongue enough to speak clearly.  

"Jerry."  A voice was at his ear, calm and gentle.  It was
Doctor Gwen.  "You are in the hospital.  We have put
restraints on you to keep you from hurting yourself.  We are
going to give you something to help you rest a while longer. 
Just relax."

A prick on his arm made his muscles flinch involuntarily, and
the dark reclaimed him again.

Jerry came awake more quickly this time, but kept his eyes
closed against the incredibly bright lights that were shining
down on him from the ceiling.  Gradually, he became aware of
the smell of antiseptic and the murmur of voices down near his
feet.  The restraints were still on him, but the ones on his
ankles had changed.  His legs were being held in a fairly wide
"spread eagle", with his ankles suspended about two feet above
the rest of his body.

He felt so strange.  The ache in his chest was gone, but the
discomfort in his groin was still there, only different.  He
felt so. . .full.  Almost like being constipated, but it was
in his front, not in his backside.  Like the time he had been
catheterized in the hospital only fuller.

"Okay." came a voice.  "That has done it.  Let's clear away."
Then, a *really* strange feeling began.  It felt like
something was sliding out of him, rubbing against his insides
as it moved.  He had never felt anything remotely similar in
his entire life.  The feeling of movement ended with a wet
"pop" noise, not unlike the sounds he used to make as a child
by popping his mouth with his finger.  And where he had felt
so incredibly full mere moments before, he felt oddly empty,
now.  

The bright lights snapped off and his legs were lowered.  His
bed began to move - must be some type of gurney, he thought. 
His eyes drifted closed again only to come fully open when the
cart stopped.

He was back inside his quarters.  Still loosely restrained, he
swivelled his head around to see if he was alone, but he never
finished as his head snapped back to look at his own chest.

Twin mounds of flesh blocked his view of his feet. 
Instinctively, he tried to move his hands to feel what his
eyes refused to believe, but the restraints held.

"Ah, awake, I see."  Came a voice from behind him.  Three
women moved into his field of view - the doctors Gloria and
Gwen, and the Captain.  "Welcome back, Mister Parks." the
Captain's voice took on a sardonic tone, "or perhaps I should
say, Happy Birthday, Miss Parks."

The words made no sense. Miss Parks.  "I don't understand..." 
Jerry's mouth fought to form the words.

"Oh, I think you are beginning to understand just fine, Miss
Parks."  The Captain looked incredibly pleased with herself,
and smiled as she lowered one of her hands to the large mounds
that had caught Jerry's full attention earlier.  He *felt* her
hand on him.  He felt her hand tweak his . . his nipple?  OUT
THERE???  His eyes went wide and the Captain's grin grew even
more.  "Yes, I can see that you do."

"What. . .what have you done to me?"  His voice was a ragged
whisper, as he fought the terror.

"Why, I should think that is obvious.  We have changed you
into a woman, Miss Parks.  A 100%, for real, sexually mature
and fertile woman.  Doctor Gloria and Doctor Gwen here have
developed a means to change men into women at the genetic
level.  Before they came here to work, they had been busily
using their little discovery to make a little money and to
wreak a little vengeance on certain chauvinistic males.  The
former was not a problem - capitalism at its finest, but the
latter, well, one of their involuntary patients tried to sue
them for depriving her of his inalienable rights to life,
liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  Which he, or rather
*she* defined as having a pair of balls and a penis between
her legs.  They were given a choice of going to jail or
working for the government."

It had to be true, Jerry thought.  The proof was hanging off
his chest to see and to feel.  "But, but why??"

"The war effort, Miss Parks." the Captain's tone was matter of
fact.  "Too many folks in the 70's and 80's had too few
children.  Too many young, draft age males are able to claim
that they are the only surviving males of their family.  Oh,
we can draft them, but we can't send them where they are
needed - at the front.  Then again, too many others are
*pacifists*" she all but spat the word out like a bad tasting
pill.  "They, like you, have claimed conscientious objector
status and the wimp-ass psychs have been going along with
them.  We could not get enough soldiers into the armed
forces."

"Then," she continued, "We discovered these two.  I was in the
Pentagon at the time when the word of their discovery and
their little vigilante games came out.  I took it to my
superior, Admiral Donovan.  Admiral Donovan is in charge of
recruiting and *she* is also a woman.  With her assistance, we
set up this alternative service program for objectors.  We
started with you and the other three who came with you. If
this works, then we will expand it to all conscientious
cowards."

The look of malicious pleasure on her face made Jerry want to
hide his head under his covers.  "What have you done to me?"
he wailed piteously.

"Congratulations, Miss Parks.  You are going to be a mother. 
You have just returned from our operating room where a
procedure similar to normal artificial insemination took place
with one, small difference.  You were inseminated with semen
that is 99% Y-chromosome sperm.  You are going to give birth
to a boy in nine months.  A boy who will replace another
coward who is attempting to avoid honorable service to his
country using the "surviving male member of his line" hedge."

"But you said that I would only be in this for four years.  I
am not a guy anymore.  You said this was like the Peace Corps!
Am I going to be like this for the rest of my life??"

"And I will keep my word, Miss Parks. First, what I said was
that our little group *sounded* like the Peace Corps.  You are
now what you probably used to call "a fine piece of ass." 
Welcome to the Piece-of-Ass Corps, Miss Parks.  And second, in
four years, and after you give us those four baby boys, you
will be a free man, again.  The change is reversible."

Gerri's sigh of relief must have been audible because the
Captain chuckled at him.  Then, she became stern and
continued.  "However, let me warn you.  Acts of
insubordination will be punished by extending your enlistment. 
Three strikes, and you will be given a treatment that will
make the change permanent.  You will be a female for the rest
of your life.  Then, we will ship you off to the Philippines
as a member of a USO troupe. An unofficial member, because we
don't admit that we send prostitutes out there for the boys in
uniform.  We do, but that is to ensure that they don't catch
any nasty diseases.  Government inspected meat, you see."

Terrified, Gerri felt tears start to track down his cheeks. 
"So, what happens now?"

The Captain waved her hand.  "Oh, nothing too terrible, more's
the pity.  You see, we want you healthy and relatively
content.  That will help make for a complication-free
pregnancy. We want that baby to survive and be healthy, Miss
Parks.  As long as you are a good girl, and follow Sgt. Evans'
orders, you will be well cared for.  After you give birth, we
will give you three months to heal, and then start the process
all over again.  Three months after your last child, you will
be healed sufficiently for the antidote treatment.  Once you
are male again, you will be given an honorable discharge and a
plane ticket home.  Unless," she smirked evilly, "Unless you
find you *like* being a girl.  Hell, we will even give you
severance pay and VA benefits."

"That is inhuman."  Gerri hissed.

The captain picked up her hat and moved to the door. 
"Perhaps.  But it is your only hope, Miss Parks.  Learn to
live with it. Do your job, keep your mouth shut and life will
be easy for you.  Give us a hard time, and we will make the
birth experience hell on earth for you.  Besides, we weren't
completely *inhuman*.  You know and like the father of your
baby, Miss Parks.  In nine months, Private Mark Jenkins will
be informed of his paternity and of the loss of his sole
surviving male heir status.  We used his sperm to knock you
up, cutie. Two cowards with one shot."  With that parting
shot, the Captain left, slamming the door behind her.

Shocked into stunned silence, Gerri fell back against her
pillows.  Gloria and Gwen simply stood there beside her,
looking nearly as miserable as Gerri felt.  She was a female,
and they had shot her full of sperm.  She was going to be a
*MOTHER*.

And somewhere, deep inside Gerri's new womb, a wiggling single
cell breached the cell wall of another, more sedately moving
and larger cell.  Their chromosomes merged, and a new fetus
began to grow.  

Things just *couldn't" get any worse!

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