From nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE Tue Jul 15 11:12:44 1997
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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: New TG: The Lottery by Dianne Christy (1/2)
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Date: 15 Jul 1997 15:12:44 GMT
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Hi.
This is one of the last submissions to the nifty archives and I found
it worthwhile to post. It's a outlook of our future.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
The Lottery
by Dianne Christy
I walked downstairs and went into the living room. As I entered, I could
see my Mom and Dad already sitting together on the sofa, their faces turned
towards the large screen of the TV. I looked up at the clock over the mantle
and saw that it was almost 7pm. It was time.
My Mother looked over at me as I entered the room and stood up, a worried
expression on her pretty face. My Dad glanced at me once and then turned
back to the TV. The Lottery announcer was just coming on and I moved over to
the chair near the sofa and sat down. I looked back at my Mom and she gave
me a weak, reassuring smile before sitting down next to my Dad. We all
watched the announcer as he started into the familiar speech I'd only heard
for the first time the year before.
"Good evening, fellow citizens. On behalf of the Department of Population
Enhancement and Control ... and the President of The Reunited States of
America, I would like to welcome you to the 43rd Annual Lottery."
As the announcer began the familiar litany about the history of the
Lottery,I looked over at my Dad and saw that he was looking at me with the
same worried expression my Mother had given me. I gave him a quick smile,
attempting to reassure him and then looked back at the screen.
Why were they so worried? I mean ... weren't the odds vastly in my favor?
What was it I had read the year before ... . oh, yeah ... the odds were
something like 2000 to 1 against being chosen. And last year, my first
eligible year out of three (you weren't eligible until you were 17), I
wasn't even on the list for the drawing. You see, before they hold the
drawing each year, a preliminary drawing is held to narrow down the field to
about 20,000 possible winners. I thought it a bit ironic that they always
declared you a winner if you were chosen. Some prize!
Anyway, I remembered the way my Mom and Dad had acted the week before when
we were notified by the local Dept. of Population that I was in the Lottery
pool. Jesus, you'd have thought that I would have been the one worried.
But I just shrugged it off. I mean, the odds were still way in my favor,
right? But Mom and Dad had fawned all over me for the past few days, trying
to convince me that it would be allright and that I surely wouldn't be
chosen. After all, I was their only child and it wouldn't be fair, right?
I think I spent more time calming them down than they did me. Still ... I
was a little anxious and wanted the drawing to get over with so everything
could get back to normal around here.
I looked back at the TV and concentrated on the announcer. He was near the
end of his speech about the history of the Lottery.
" ... . and so it was decreed, in order to assure the continued existence
of not only the Reunited States of America, but of all mankind, the
devastating tools of our enemies, the very technology that nearly caused the
exinction of our fair land, would be employed to guarantee our futures, to
ensure that the world would not be without the shining beacon of Democracy
that is our country. By unanimous decree from the Council of the Senate and
by order of the President for Life of These Reunited States of America, all
young men between the ages of 17 and 20 shall be eligible for the Lottery,
which shall be held annually on the anniversary of our victory over our
foes."
I thought for a second about the rumors I'd heard a while back about how
none of the son's from the Council had ever been drawn in the Lottery, but I
didn't believe that they had been left out because of the influence of their
father's. I figured it was just another rumor started by someone whose son
had been drawn. After all, there were plenty of families who never had
anyone from their relatives drawn. It was just the odds. But I knew that
no one would ever trace a rumor like that to see if it was true. It was a
capitol crime to interfere with the Lottery. It was that important. That
had been drummed into our heads since the first day of school.
The announcer was almost finished with his speech.
" ... . therefore, in accordance with the 67th Amendment to the New
Constitution of These Reunited States, and with the power vested in me by
the Director of the Department of Population Enhancement and Control, I now
declare the 43rd Lottery to be open. May I remind each winner of today's
drawing, you are required to remain in your homes for a period of one hour
after the Lottery is over, or until the local representatives of the
Department of Population have released you from their custody. Good luck to
all of you."
He turned away from the camera and the screen went blank for a moment.
Then, the familiar list began to come up one the screen, generated by the
random selection computer as each district in the country was given it's
allocation of winners for that year. Only winners in your own district were
shown on your TV as the Lottery progressed. I watched intently now as the
list started to appear on the screen. How many were there going to be in
our area this year? I thought I remembered reading that there would be only
24 in our district this time. We'd been hit hard last year with forty-three
chosen. I guessed the population experts thought we deserved a break this
year. That meant there was still about a 2000 to 1 chance against being
drawn.
As the first couple of names, preceded by the 10 digital registration
numbers came up on the screen, I heard a click and turned to see my Mother
nervously lighting a cigarette. She glanced momentarily at me as she blew a
stream of smoke out from between her red lips and then we both turned back
to watch the screen. I could see my Dad was puffing anxiously on his pipe,
trying to remain calm as the list of names continued to grow.
I watched the names as they came up. After the first two, I looked only at
the names and didn't pay any attention to the Lottery Registration Numbers
anymore. Soon there were eight names up on the list and the screen was
filled. It stayed there for a few minutes as viewers were given a chance to
double check the numbers in case their son's name appeared and it was only a
another young man with the same name. I wondered how much chance there was
that another David L. Brewer would be chosen. I fingered the registration
card in my fingers and looked down at my own number.
The shiny, indestructable, plastic card glared slightly in the light. I
could see my picture on the left. I hadn't been too proud of it ... my
blond hair was a bit messy and looked unkept. But then, I hadn't been too
anxious to have my picture taken that day over a year ago when I'd been
required by law to register on the last of school before beginning my Senior
year. I remembered the way all the guys in my class had joked around
nervously that day as we pondered the ramifications of the registration. I
remembered how, even after I was given the card that very day, I was looking
forward to the day, three years from then, when I could throw the card away.
I looked down at the bold lettering of my name, my address and District, and
then at last to the evenly spaced numbers below.
'2 - 7 - 3 - 2 - 9 - 9 - 4 - 8 - 2 - 5'
My eyes were drawn back to the screen as the first eight names flashed three
times before they were erased to make way for the next eight names. As the
list grew to twelve, I recognized one of the names. Jason H. Evers. Oh,
No! Jason! He was one of my friends at school! I could hear a small gasp
come from my Mom. I saw her slender hand fly up to her mouth, her long,
shiny red nails glistening from the light next to her as she looked at the
name. I'd had Jason over to the house many times over the last couple of
years.
My Dad looked at me and then back to Mom.
"It's allright, Dear. It might be another Jason Evers. It's not that
uncommon of a name. Just try and calm down. There's still another twelve
names to go."
He looked over at me and tried to give me a reassuring smile. But I
wondered. The odds against there being two Jason H. Evers in our District
... it was hard to say. Each District was about the size of one-half of
one of the original States from pre- war times. And the population of each
District was now only about half it was before the war. It had taken nearly
fifty years to get it back to that many people. Damn those idiots for using
their biological, genetic chemicals anyway! It would have been better if
they'd just used conventional weapons and given everybody an equal chance!
I looked back at the screen as the sixteenth name came up. I breathed a
sigh of relief as I saw mine wasn't there. Then, after a couple of minutes,
the flashing screen blinked three times and then then last eight names came
up.
It's kind of funny, looking back on it, ... I didn't really recognize the
name until after my Mother had let out a choke and my Father had stood up to
face me. I couldn't help but wonder why my Dad seemed so upset at the
moment. Then, I let my glance fall back to the screen and this time ... it
finally registered. The name next to last one at the bottom of the screen.
Right above Thomas K. Williams. It was right there. How could I have not
seen it.
A bunch of numbers followed by ... 'David L. Brewer'.
I looked at the name for alomost a full minute before I looked over at my
Dad. My mother was just sitting on the sofa, looking blankly at the screen.
My Dad was bent over the coffee table, his right hand nervously writting
something down on a piece of paper.
I saw the screen flashing before it went blank and then looked up to my Dad
as the announcer came back on and started to speak.
"That concludes the 43rd Lottery, Ladies and Gentlemen. If you need
confirmation of any of the names or registration numbers, please contact
your local ... . . "
My Dad was looking down at me as I sat there, nervously thumbing the card in
my fingers. I didn't want to look at the TV now. I just wanted my Dad to
tell me that everything would be allright. I felt his hand brush against
mine as he reached down and took the card from me and then slowly held it up
next to the paper in his other hand.
I was still stunned as I heard him softly read the registration number that
he had copied from the list on the TV and compare each number to my card.
'2 - 7 - 3 - 2 - 9 - 9 - 4 - 8 - 2 - 5'
He let the paper fall from his hand as he turned to my mother and held her
next to him as she gently cried on his shoulder. He looked at me for a
second as he tried to console her.
"Now . . now, Cheryl. We have to be calm. We always knew this might
happen. We have to be strong for Dave. OK?" He held her chin up towards
his face and gently kissed her on the forehead. She looked over at me, her
eyes swollen a little and somewhat red and tried to smile. I still was a
little behind what was going on but it was beginning to sink in.
I stood up and walked over by the TV, looking down at it as the announcer
ended his speech.
" ... . just remain in your homes until the authorities arrive. They will
be there in less than fifteen minutes. Remember ... resistance is a
capitol crime. On behalf of the President, the Council of the Senate, and
the Director ... I now declare this Lottery closed."
Then the screen went blank. I stared at it for another second and then saw
my father reach down and shut it off. I looked up at him and I saw
something strange in his look. It was as though he was looking at me
differently than he ever had before. I wasn't sure what it was ... as
though he was looking at me for the last time. Well ... I guess that would
be right.
I noted how he was still a few inches taller than me. Though I was sure I
was going to reach his 6' 2" height soon ... or would have. Damn!! I'd
been chosen in the Lottery!! Oh Christ!!
As it really sunk in, I turned to my mother and saw her trying to look
brave. She came over to me and hugged me, her pleasant perfume enveloping
me. I tried to be brave and hugged her gently back as it occured to me that
the perfume she was wearing smelled very comforting. She had always worn it
since I could remember.
Before I could say anything, there was a sharp knock on the door. I was
startled and took a step back away from my mother as all of us just stood
there and looked at the front door. Then another sharp rap and my Dad
walked slowly over to the door and looked back at me, his hand on the knob.
My heart raced with fear and anticipation. It struck me how quickly the
authorities came to see each of the 'winners'. They must have all been on
alert until each of the names had been drawn. That would explain how they
could get to each home so fast. I didn't know that the names had actually
been drawn an hour earlier than they were shown on TV in order to give the
officials time to be stationed at each 'winners' home.
They obviously didn't want to give anyone much time to think about trying to
run. But everyone knew how futile that was. The punishment for aiding
anyone running was death and they forfieted their own son's, if they had
any, to the Department of Population for immediate re-assignment. No trial
. . no waiting ... it was just that fast!
My mother turned to me as my father opened the door and two men came into
the hallway. Each was dressed in a pair of white coveralls and wore the
insignia of the Department of Population above their left breast pockets.
They quickly turned to me and stepped quietly, but quickly into the room.
The one on the right said, "David L. Brewer? Registration number '2 - 7 - 3
- 2 - 9 - 9 - 4 - 8 - 2 - 5' ?"
I felt my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth as I began to think of what
was about to happen and my fear grew even stronger. I couldn't answer and
only nodded my head as the man took my registration card from the coffee
table where he saw it lying.
I watched as both of them ran my card through a small device the man on the
left held. After the device beeped three times the man on the right spoke
again.
"David. L. Brewer. You are declared a valid winner of the 43rd Lottery.
Please accompany us outside to our mobile unit for verification of your
identity."
I just stood there, unwilling to move . . still not quite sure that this
was really happening to me and then a second later I was being led out the
door to where a large, white van was parked on the street. I could vaguley
make out the figures of some of our neighbors as they peered from their
windows or stood out on their porches. I felt embarassed that they should
see me.
My mother was walking behind me, but I only caught bits and pieces of what
she said.
" ... be allright, honey, ... . . doesn't hurt, ... we'll be with you
all the way, ... oh my poor baby!" She went on for a while until Dad came
out from the doorway and brought her back into the house.
I turned to see the door shut as the men led me up a small set of stairs
that hung down from the back of the van. As the rear door opened, another,
older man inside stood up wearing the familiar garb of a physician. He was
next to a large panel of electronics that lined one wall. A narrow hospital
bed was across from it. I could feel my pulse pounding in my head now. I
wanted to run, but the grip on each arm tightened as we moved into the van
and the doors shut behind me.
The man inside walked up to me and raised another device towards my head. I
flinched backwards and cried out, "Wait!! It's ... it's all a mistake! I
... . I'm not supposed to be here! It's ... it's not ... "
The men holding me tightened their grip as I tried to back away and the man
in front of my smiled reassuringly as he said, "Relax, David. This is an
identity scanning device. I'm only going to hold it up to your eye and let
it read your retinal imprint. If you're not the right person, it'll let us
know. So please, remain still."
I could see the red light eminating from the device as I was held firmly in
place while the scanning device was held near my left eye. A moment later
it beeped three times and the men holding me let go and moved a few steps
behind me.
The man in front of me looked closely at the monitor on the panel to his
right as the device signalled it's findings. Then, he quickly lifted his
left hand and a second later I felt a slight pain in my right thigh as he
lowered a small device that looked like a pen. I looked at my thigh, but
could see nothing. I looked back up at the man as he read from the screen
next to him.
"Confirmed. David L. Brewer. Registration and retinal scan match. Proceed
immediately with re-assignment."
I started to turn back towards the back of the van when I felt my legs
giving out from under me. A moment later, I was lying on the small bed up
against the wall and looking up at the man who seemed to be in charge as I
felt my shoes, socks, pants, and shirt being removed. I couldn't talk or
even blink! But I could feel my heart racing a mile a minute!
"Relax, David.", the man said, his physicians smile never wavering,
revealing his practiced manner as he bent over me, "It's only a sedative.
You'll be fine in a few minutes. This won't take long."
He turned away to the instrument panel behind him and as he did, I noticed a
clear, glasslike mold above me. Why hadn't I noticed it before? It was in
the shape of a body ... or more like the cover to a body that allows you to
look in. As he pressed a few buttons, the cover descended down until it was
all around me. Then, in fear and horror over what was about to happen, I
finally let out a small, feeble cry that echoed back at me from the clear
plastic.
"Please . . Nooo. . please ... . . ple ... " My throat caught as I
tried to cry out.
I could barely hear anything now. It was quiet under the glass. Only my
breathing came to my ears. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Doctor
move around the instrument panel. I could see monitors light up and
displays come to life. In less than a minute he turned back to me and
nodded before moving back to the panel and pressed one last button.
Then it was light.
Very light. As if the sun had come into the van and was looking down at me.
I felt like I was swimming in a sea of warm, moist light. The van was gone.
The men were gone. Everything was gone ... . except me and the light.
My eyes didn't smart or hurt at all. Yet the light was so bright that I
should have been blinded! I thought that I was floating away, free from the
van and free from the circumstances I had found myself in. But just as soon
as I felt as if I was going to sleep in the warmth of the light ... it was
dark again.
I realized that my eyes were still open and I could see the glass above me
once again. The Doctors face was still above me, looking down at me with
the same, rehersed smile on his lips. A moment later the glass went up and
I could feel life coming back to my limbs.
The Doctor nodded towards the back of the van and the two other men came up
next to me, helping me to sit up on the table. They held my clothes and
were attempting to help me into them.
As I became fully functional again, I meekly grabbed at the pants one man
was trying to put on me and stood up, pulling them on and giving him a look
that told him to let me do it myself. I hated the thought of either of them
touching me! I was confused and didn't quite know what to think. I could
see myself as I dressed and no one said a word. What had happened? I felt
fine now. Nothing seemed to have changed. Was that it? I didn't
understand. I didn't know what to say.
As I buttoned my shirt, the back of the van opened and the Doctor led me out
and up the walkway to the front door of my house. I could see my parents
looking out from the partially opened door and saw my Dad open it all the
way as we walked inside. They both looked at me with a strange, but
comforting stare. We stopped in the hallway, then the Doctor held out some
papers to my mother.
"Mrs. Brewer. Please keep him inside for the night. And please read these
documents carefully. Don't worry about a thing. He's fine. Everything
went normally. If you have any questions, please call the number on the
first page in the morning."
Then, as he turned to leave, he looked at me and said, "I suggest you listen
to your mother, David. She will help you through this. Good night."
And that was it. As he closed the door behind him, I looked up to my Dad
and tried to say something reassuring to myself. I couldn't believe it!
Nothing had happened!!
"Dad! Look," I said as I stepped back from him and held out my arms,
"nothing happened! It ... it must have been a ... a bad joke or
something. Maybe it was a mistake! See? It's ok! Nothing happened."
But the way my dad just shook his head and walked away towards his den made
me mistrust my own words. Something had happened. I remembered the light.
And what did I know about this whole process anyway? People hardly ever
talked about it.
I looked at my mom, who was looking over the first page of the small
pamphlet she'd been given. She looked up at me and I could see a
sympathetic look come over her. She smiled and took my hand.
"Come on, honey. We need to go upstairs and have a talk."
I just nodded, still unsure of what was really going to happen to me. I
felt fine!
We went upstairs to my room and sat on the bed. I looked around the room at
the pictures and posters, feeling safe in my own room now. Nothing could
happen to me here. My mom sat next to me and held my hand, her smooth,
slender fingers feeling small next to mine. My gaze fell onto my baseball
trophy on my dresser. I was proud of it and I knew my folks were, too.
Then I saw the clock next to it and stood up quickly in shock, unable to
believe what I saw.
I was 10pm!! I'd been out in the van almost three hours!! I couldn't
believe it!
I turned back to my mother and she motioned me to move over next to her, a
knowing look on her face. As I came next to her, she cleared her throat and
spoke softly, soothingly to me. Like she had when I was a little boy.
"Dave ... I ... I know this is hard for you now. But believe me when I
say it'll get easier soon. I know. And you know why I know." I looked into
her face and I knew. I had always known. Everybody knew. No one ever
talked about it, though. It was better that way.
"By morning, you'll be through with this and you'll understand. But, just
remember, the more you fight it ... the worse it is. You must let yourself
go. Otherwise ... ", she let her gaze fall and then finished, "Otherwise
it just brings pain and hurt."
She looked back up at me and I could feel the hot tears start to stream down
my cheeks. I knew!! Shit! I knew!! And I couldn't stop it!! I just
wanted to bury my head in her arms and cry. Like I had when I was a kid!!
I wanted her to make the hurt and shame go away ... but I knew she
couldn't!
She held me as I choked back my tears and she patted my back. I finally
looked up at her and asked what I had to know.
"How ... how long until ... until it's ... it's over?" My voice cracked
as I asked. I wanted ... but didn't want to know.
She smiled a little and answered, standing up and picking up the pamphlet
next to her. She looked down at them and read for a moment before looking
back at me.
"By morning. It happens while you sleep. You'll feel tired soon, some kind
of sleep drug given to you during the process to help you get to sleep." She
looked away from me as she finished.
"It'll be complete when you wake up."
I looked down at the floor, feeling strange and out of place. As though I
wasn't supposed to be here. Even in my own room. I knew what I would be in
the morning and I knew that every moment between now and then was just a
pause. I wouldn't be here soon.
I looked back up at her as she turned away again and I tried to be brave,
knowing there was nothing to do but wait. Well, at least I could know what
to expect.
"Would ... would you help me ... tell me about ... . about it? I ... .
I want to know." My voice cracked again and she cried a moment before coming
over to the bed and sitting next to me. She wiped her tears away and smiled
at me, obviously resigned with the situation and knowing she could help me.
At least she could do that.
"Well ... ", she began with a sigh, "I don't remember much myself, but the
pamphlet describes all of it if you want to read it." She held it out to me
and I took it from her.
For the next fifteen minutes, we read all five pages of the government
booklet. The first page described instructions for parents use. A number
to call for questions. When to go in to get reimbursements for clothing and
furnishings and ... and everything else. Everything to make the transition
smooth and complete. It even described where and when to get identity
papers taken care of. All very neat. All very proper and tidy. I tried to
picture myself in the scene it described, but couldn't.
The next few pages just dealt with more history of the Lottery and why it
was used. But we both knew that. We skipped through it and went to the
last page. I took a breath in fearful anticipation as I read in detail
about the process itself. I still couldn't believe it was going to happen
to me!
It started with a brief history of the process and then told about it in
detail.
I read it slowly and carefully, feeling my anxiety rise with each word. It
read as follows:
"The technology used by the enemy in the BioGen Chem Wars left our
society devoid of females. The insidious nature of the attacks
was to ultimately deprive our race from perpetuating itself.
After the attacks were over, our scientists were unable to rectify
the genetic damage done to our reproductive organs. As you know,
we were doomed to extinction within a few, short decades. All
over the world, most remaining females left alive soon died. And
the very few that lived were unable to produce female children.
In a matter of a few years, all female humans had vanished from
the earth.
Though peace was established with our enemies, it would be a
short-lived truce. Soon, all human life would be gone forever.
It was only a matter of time.
Then, while working fervently and with time against them, our
scientists were able to perfect a method, ironically from the
technology our enemies had used against us, to rectify our
situation. Using the research from a defecting enemy scientist,
it was found to be possible to re-introduce females to our
species. Though the price was high, we are now able to continue
to thrive through the valiant sacrifices of our young men.
Simply stated, the young men selected by the Lottery are
genetically altered to become young women. Fertile women capable
of bearing children and ensuring the survival of our species. The
process, originally carried out in only a few laboratorys throught
the country, are now so perfected and refined, they are carried
out at the selectees residence withing an hour of selection. The
process has also been speeded up in order to facilitate rapid
assimilation into the community.
The selectee has already been exposed to the electro-chemical-
genetic process and will complete all phsyical modifications after
a minimum of three hours of REM sleep. The selectee was given the
proper drugs to induce this sleep within two hours after the
process was completed in the mobile re-assignment unit.
Because the process requires the rapid alteration of molecules in
the selectees body, the process ages the selectee three years
during the transformation. Due to the requirements of the
process, it has been found to be completely effective only on men
between the ages of 16 and 21. In the interest of perfection,
only males between the ages of 17 and 20 are selected.
The resultant physical attributes of each selectee are genetically
controlled to yield the most desireable features in female
anatomy. This not only serves to keep the self-esteem of each
selectee high, it contributes to the overall success in attracting
a mate in order to facilitate reproduction.
In order to control the behavior of the selectee after the
phsyical changes are complete, additional genetic modifications
are triggered after the physical modifications. These controllers
are inherent in the completed female and require the woman to
behave in a prescribed manner or severe discomfort is experienced.
The prescribed behavior is unconsciously followed by the selectee.
If a conscious effort is made to deviate from the behavior,
selective enzymes are released to induce severe, flu-like cramps
and chills. It is usually not triggered more than a few times
before the selectee ceases to resist and assimilates normally into
the proper role of women in today's society. It should be noted
that since this process has been in use, there has been no further
strife between the sexes in our society.
Also, the process allows for the insertion of many, varied,
disease resistant genes, thereby making the woman and her
offspring immune to most diseases. The current estimate is that
all women and their offspring will live to be approximately 125
years of age. This figure now represents approximately 73% of all
citizens still living. As the process is continued over the next
fifty years, that figure will ultimately reach 100%. After an
estimated six generations of citizens produced using this method
is complete, it is hoped that women will be able to bear female
children capable of reproduction. At that time, the current
Lottery will cease, having outlived it's usefullness.
I put the pamphlet down and stared straight ahead. That was it. I had
already been altered ... and in a little while, I would't be able to stop
myself from falling asleep and completing the change. And then ... . then
... ? I couldn't think about it.
I looked up at my mother ... . my mother who went through this some
nineteen years ago ... and just shook my head. In all my experience, I had
never thought that this would really happen to me. I felt devastated.
My mother smiled weakly at me and stood up. She walked out of the room and
came back in a few minutes with her purse. I watched as she entered the
room, acutely aware of the fact that she had once gone through this before.
I wondered who she had been when she was a he ... and what my father had
thought of her, knowing that she had once been like him. I guess it was
just taken for granted. Now I could understand why no one ever spoke about
it much. It made it easier to live with.
As she took her cigarettes out of her purse and lit one, my gaze took her in
in all of her beauty. It never occured to me that the reason she had such a
shapely and supple figure was because she had been made that way. I guess I
had just never thought about it. She moved in her typical, feminine,
graceful way as she turned towards me and it dawned on me that she was
actually forced to move that way! And I would be, too!
I felt my eyes smarting again as I began to think of all the things I had
seen other women do, too. The way they almost always acted. Alluring,
graceful, ultra-femininely, and always flirting with the men, especially if
they were single women! Like I was about to become! I just shook my head
and watched the symathy in my mother's eyes. There was nothing I ...
anyone could do!
My mother sat down next to me and gently stroked my arm, trying to appear
soothing.
"Don't worry, dear. It'll be allright. We'll all get through this. By
tomorrow, it'll be different. Don't be afraid. Being a girl isn't all that
bad. I've been very happy with your father. You'll be happy, too. I just
know it!"
She smiled warmly and I realized that she must have gone through this, too.
Sitting in her room, waiting to become a young woman against her will. At
the same time, I realized that she really was happy ... and always had
been. Maybe I would be, too. But the thought of actually being happy as a
girl made me ill and I shook it off.
I asked her a question that I'd had when reading the pamphlet, not really
wanting to hear the answer, but curiosity drove it out.
"Mom? . . uh, . . do you remember what it was like when you woke up the
next morning? I mean ... the pamphlet says that I'll get ill if I don't
act right. What ... . what does that mean?"
She looked down, a pained expression crossing her face as she remembered.
Then she sighed and looked at me.
"Oh, honey. It's been so long, now. I ... I didn't fight it very long.
It was very ... very unpleasant at first. You find yourself behaving in a
way you feel is right, but you know is wrong. When you try to act the way
you remember acting before . . . you feel ... sick . Very sick. But it
goes away as soon as you stop resisting. I don't remember all of it. You
... you just find yourself doing things you never thought you'd do. But
after a while, it gets easier." Now she looked earnestly into my eyes and
continued.
"Oh, Dave! Please! Just let it happen when you get up tomorrow! Don't
fight it! It's not worth it and we'll know why your not trying to act act
like a boy! Don't put yourself through it just to try and show us!! It's
just not worth the pain!" She looked away and I became even more frightened
by the tone of her voice. Would it be that bad?
Finally, unable to keep it back, I began to cry. Like a baby! I felt so
hopeless inside! They were turning me into a ... a girl!! And there
wasn't anything I could do about it!
My mother drew me close to her and held me as I sobbed, gently speaking
soothing words to me and stroking my head.
At last, spent and tired, I stood up and went into the bathroom attached to
my room. I looked into the mirror as I washed my face and tried to capture
my reflection in my mind forever. I felt like I could resist anything if I
could keep my own image in my mind long enough. They couldn't do this to
me! My will alone could stop it!
I towelled off myself and went back into my room. I saw my father standing
next to my mother. She had been speaking softly and earnestly to him. I
couldn't bear to look at him, knowing that soon I would no longer be his
son. Instead ... instead I would be his ... his daughter!
I felt extememly tired now and knew it was the drug working on me. As I
swayed slightly, I saw my father move over to me and grasp me by the
shoulders, supporting me.
I looked up into his face, my fear and exhaustion all over me.
"Don't worry, son. It'll be allright. I understand." His face showed
compassion and love. I felt very close to him. "I'll always remember what
a ... . a good son you've been." It was hard for him to get the last words
out and he hugged me before lowering me onto my bed. Then he stood and
walked out.
My mother moved over to me and helped me get into bed. She told me to strip
completely and I did as she asked, not caring why or ... or anything.
As I started to uncontrollably slip off to sleep, the last thing I saw as a
young man was my mother lingering in the doorway, looking at me one last
time before turning off the light and shutting the door.
* * * * * * * * * *
When I awoke the next morning, I felt refreshed. I slowly woke up, not
remembering any dreams or disturbances in the night. My eyes fluttered open
slowly and for a few moments, I didn't remember anything out of the
ordinary. Then, slowly ... feeling that there was something I should
remember ... something that was wrong with everything ... it all came back
to me! The Lottery ... the night before ... everything!
My eyes flew open and I looked up at the ceiling. I looked intently at it
for a moment and realized that I felt fine. It was fairly light in the room
and I guessed it was around seven in the morning. But ... I felt fine!
As I started to sit up, anxious to see what my mind told me was certain,
that I had not changed during the night, I felt something strange as my head
lifted off the pillow. Something . ... something soft and feathery on my
shoulders.
With my head half lifted from my pillow, I looked over at my left shoulder
to see ... to see that it was covered with long, soft, wavy blonde hair!
I gasped slightly for breath as my head fell back onto the pillow and I
realized that my head and neck were lying on a mass of long, silky, blonde
hair! I could even feel it's weight on my head as I had lifted it! Oh,
God! I really had changed!! My heart fell and my spirits with it!
After a minute, I could no longer stand it. I lifted my head up and looked
at my shoulder again. The wavy, silken hair hung femininely from my head
and covered my shoulders. I gently brought my right hand up from under the
covers to brush it away. As my hand moved over my chest, I felt it stop up
against a large , soft mound!! Ohhhhh, Gawwwwd! What was that?!
But I knew that answer even as my hand reached over to cup a full, soft,
firm ... breast!! My head went back to the pillow as I felt the womans'
1
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From nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE Tue Jul 15 11:12:34 1997
Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-dc-2.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!baron.netcom.net.uk!netcom.net.uk!news1.netusa.net!qz!not-for-mail
From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: New TG: The Lottery by Dianne Christy (2/2)
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Date: 15 Jul 1997 15:12:34 GMT
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Hi.
This is one of the last submissions to the nifty archives and I found
it worthwhile to post. It's a outlook of our future.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
2___The_Lottery________________________________________by_Dianne_Christy_
breast in my hand, on my chest spill out from around the fingers that
grasped it in horror!! Now ... knowing what it was, I could even feel
their weight on my chest!
Slowly, looking up at the ceiling, not wanting to see, I reached up with my
other hand and felt my left breast. It, too spilled over my hand, full ...
soft ... firm! Oh, God!! I ... I had Tits!! Girl's tits!! I shook my
head to each side, trying to wish it away!!
The fingers of my right hand probed up over the top of my right breast until
they found a large, erect nipple! Then, as a terrifying thought shook me,
my right hand left the soft flesh of my right breast and slid slowly over
very soft, smooth skin on my flat tummy and touched soft, curly hair at my
crotch.
I prayed that I would find the familiar appendage with it's fleshy sac below
it, but as I had to reach further and further downwards, past where it
should have been ... I knew what I would find. A second later, my slender,
soft finger found what I feared. For a brief moment, I felt the tip of my
finger press into the folds of ... . . of (Oh, Please, Nooo!) my
vagina!!
Not only did I feel the soft, vertical lips of my new labia, I could feel
the entrance to my (Noooo!) vagina and the light, warm moistness that lay
there! And not only that ... as my slender finger had slid down my soft
skin, I felt the slight scratch from what must be long fingernails
occasionally preceed it! Jesus!! Even my nails had changed!!
As I jerked my hand back towards my face, I heard the soft gasp escape from
my lips. But ... . even only as a light, soft moan ... I could tell that
I no longer had my old voice, either!!
I involuntarily let out a low, "Oh, Nooo!", as my hand came into view and I
heard my new, girl's voice for the first time as my eyes beheld my soft,
smooth skinned, slender, woman's hand for the first time. Complete with
long, femininely rounded nails and small, frail, fair skinned wrist!
My hand went to my throat at the sound of my new voice and was met with the
feel of a long, slender neck with no Adam's Apple any longer!!
For a moment I thought I would go mad!! Oh, Gawwwwd!! It really happened!!
I had turned into a ... . a girl!!! I was a ... a young woman!!
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to comprehend what . ... how
... this had happened!! I wanted to die!! Why me?!? Hadn't I been a good
son?! What would people think?!? What about my friends?!? What would they
say?!? Oh, God!! Please!! Nooooooo!
I found myself trying to think of a way out of my predicament when ... all
of a sudden ... I felt this urge ... an unwanted urge ... to get out of
bed. I tried to resist it . . . but . . Oh, Shit!! ... when I did I
suddenly became extrememly nauseus!! The sickening feeling was sooo awful
that I sat up in bed and placed my feet on the floor. As soon as I did the
pain was gone.
Oh, Nooo! The controlling pain my mother had spoke about!! It was real!!
It was working on me right now!!
As I sat on the edge of the bed I could feel the soft swaying from my new
breasts. I could actually feel their weight on my chest! And I ... I just
felt smaller!! All over! My small, delicate, feminine feet reached the
floor a little differently, with my legs lying flat on the bed. I was
shorter!!
I looked down and finally saw myself for the first time. It was soooo
painful to see my new body! I ... . I was a girl!!
I could see my firm, white breasts extended out in front of me. Their large
nipples sitting high and pointy on them. God! They were so ... so firm
and ... and big!! My gaze took in my high, narrow waist, my shapely,
womanly hips, the soft smooth, girlish thighs and my long, shapely, smooth
legs!! Oh, God!! I couldn't stand it!!
My slender arms and narrow shoulders made me feel so frail and the feeling
of my long, soft, blonde hair hanging around my head and down over my
shoulders made me want to run and hide from it all!!
But as these thoughts went through my mind, another wave of illness came
over me. It was awful and I immediately stood up to make it go away. I
just seemed to know that getting up and going into the bathroom was the way
to make it stop! I had to act right or it would hurt!
As I took the first step towards the bathroom, I knew I was much smaller
than I had been. I guessed that I wasn't over 5'6" now. And the way I
moved! Oh, Jesus!! I couldn't help it!! I ... I was walking just like a
girl would!! If I tried to stop it . . . ohhhh ... it hurt so bad!
With my shapely hips swaying, my limp wrist held femininely at one side, I
walked into the bathroom and turned to face the mirror. I wish I hadn't.
Looking back at me was a ... a pretty . . no ... a beautiful young
woman!
My face! It ... it wasn't my face anymore. Though I could see a small
resemblance to my former self, it was just too ... to pretty to be me
anymore!
The long, honey-blonde hair framed my oval face in a very sexy, feminine
way. I looked at my soft, smooth complextion and saw the high cheekbones,
wide, almond shaped, blue eyes framed with long, curved lashes... my new,
small, pert nose, my narrow, small chin, ... and ... and my new full ,
petulant, very feminine mouth with soft, full lips and prominent cupid's bow
on the upper lip! Jesus! Even my eyebrows were thin, feminine shaped
arches that framed my beautiful, feminine eyes! And there was absolutely no
facial hair at all! Not a trace! Oh, Gawwwd! I ... I was sooo ashamed!
When I resisted the temptation, I felt ill again and finally looked at the
rest of my new body in the mirror as I backed slightly away from it.
I looked at my breasts, standing proudly on my narrow chest. Then at my
waist, so small and high, then at my flared, womanly hips and ... and then
at the blonde, triangular patch of downy pubic hair that framed the outline
of my ... my new vagina!! The long shapely legs below that didn't even
phase me after seeing my new ... womanhood!!
Looking back at my face . . I also realized that I looked older now. Like
it had said in the pamphlet ... I looked to be around twenty or so. It was
hopeless! I was a young woman now and ... and would be forced to act like
one!
I felt the urge in me and when I tried to resist it again, I felt ill. So I
stepped over to the toilet and unconsciously sat down. The feeling ...
ohhhh ... I just can't describe it! Even the tinkling sound seemed so
alien! And when I was through, I didn't even resist the need to wipe myself
there with some TP while still sitting! Oh, Please!! Somebody help me!
When I stood up, again I felt the sway from my breasts and I felt the urge
to ... . to do something about it. Oh, God!! I knew what it was! I ...
I wanted to put on ... a ... a bra! Oh, Nooo! Please!!
But I also knew I didn't have a bra! But ... but I couldn't help wanting
one!
Instead, not wanting to feel ill again, I let myself go ... just go and do
whatever it was I had to.
I walked out of the bathroom and went straight to my closet. I opened it
and took out the blue robe hanging in there next to all the men's clothes I
knew I would never wear again!
I put the robe on, seeing the shoulders slump past my new, narrow shoulders
and tied it around my small waist. It was way too big.
Then, as I turned towards the door to the hallway I realized what I was
about to do and again tried to resist. I didn't want anyone to see me like
this! How could I let my parents see me like this?!
But, as the pain grew, I knew I had to! I gave in and in a moment I was
padding down the stairs towards the kitchen where I could smell fresh coffee
brewing. I was thankful I didn't see anyone outside my room.
As I turned the corner into the kitchen, I steeled myself for what I would
see.
Amazingly, my father wasn't there. He must have left early for work, not
wanting to be there when I got up. I could definitely understand that!
But the the look on my mother's face as I walked in was enough . . . too
much ... for me to take!
As she stood, the shock registering on her pretty face, I felt myself going
to tears and moving quickly to her open arms, crying girlishly into her
shoulder, now slightly higher than my own since she was wearing heels.
"Ohhh, my poor baby!", she soothingly said as she stroked the back of small
head, "It's OK, honey. It's allright. Don't be afraid. Here ... let me
get a good look a my pretty, new daughter!"
She pressed me back slightly as I stood looking up into her eyes, my tears
hot on my soft cheeks and my urge to be near her growing stronger.
She looked me up and down and then ... obviously she had already planned to
put the initial shock of this behind us as quickly as she could ... she
smiled and said, "Oh, honey! You're just as pretty as a picture! Don't be
ashamed. I love you all the more, now. Now ... now you and I have
something very special in common. We'll be as close as a mother and
daughter can be. You'll see! It'll be fine! You're very beautiful and I'm
sure everything will be just fine!"
She kept it up for a while until I finally gave in to the urges growing in
me and smiled up at her, saying, "Oh, Mother ... do you think so? I ...
I'm so afraid! I ... I want everything to be allright. Will ... will you
help me?"
Though I was inwardly shocked at my high-pitched, soft, girlish voice, I
didn't resist the temptation to speak to her like that. It just hurt too
much to hold back! I ... I'd even called her "Mother"!
She smiled and reached up to my face, wiping off the tears and said, "Oh,
sweetheart, don't you worry about a thing. We'll be just fine. Now you sit
down at the kitchen table while I get us some coffee. We've got a lot to do
today!"
I smiled again and sat down, noting how I unconsciously smoothed the robe
under my girlish thighs as I did, just like a woman would. My legs crossed
at my knees and I found myself feeling much better when I didn't resist.
But inside, in my mind, I still felt my shame and embarassement. I was
sitting at my own table, with my mother ... and I was a girl!!
She came over with a cup of coffee for me and I found myself admiring her
blue dress. The way a woman admires another woman's clothes. I caught
myself, but didn't try to stop it, knowing the pain would come if I did.
I guess she could see my stare and knew what I was thinking.
"Ohhh," she said, her face showing her concern, "don't worry, honey. I'm
sure we'll find something suitable for you to wear today. I was planning on
us doing some shopping later on this morning. We still have alot to do to
get you settled and your father is picking up your clothing and furnishings
allotment today on the way home from work. But he left us plenty of money
to do some shopping with to get you started."
I found myself smiling at her and then sipped at my cup. Without thinking,
I'd held the cup femininely and gracefully as I brought it up to my full
lips. I knew there was no stopping it! I was a girl and I was going to
have to act like one! Unless I wanted to feel ... to feel the pain.
As my mother sat down across from me and sipped her coffee, I saw her
pensive stare and waited for her to say what was on her mind.
"You know, dear. We still have a little problem to work out."
I looked questioningly at her and asked, "What is that, Mother?" That voice
again! How could I sound so ... so girlish?
She smiled and said, "Well ... I mean ... what are we going to call you?
I mean ... we can't very well call you David, . . . right?"
She was right. I hadn't even thought about that. In my mind . . .
though I knew I was now a girl ... I still thought of myself as Dave.
David Lawrence Brewer.
"I ... I guess you're right, Mother." I involuntarily said, "But ... but
what ... how are we ... we supposed to change my name?"
"Well," she said thoughtfully ,"the pamphlet said that we are to select a
new first and middle name and then give it to the officials over the phone
today so that your identity papers will be ready tomorrow. Have you thought
of anything yet?"
Of course I hadn't.
"No, I ... I really hadn't even thought about it."
She smiled and looked a little excited. I knew that she had!
"Well ... I thought about it last night and ... and I talked to your
father about it. We thought ... that is I thought and he agreed ... that
you should use a name that has the same initials as your old name. What do
you think?"
I really didn't think about it, but smiled and nodded. I would let her name
me ... just like she had when I was born.
"How about ... Diana ... Diana Lynette Brewer?" She seemed pleased with
her choice and I found myself cringing inside at the name. I ... I didn't
want to be called by a girl's name but found myself unable to resist it
without getting sick!
Instead ... I smiled broadly and said, "Oh, Mother! That's sounds great!"
She smiled back and said, "Oh ... I'm so glad you like it, Diana! I think
it's such a lovely name! Diana Lynette it is!"
I smiled again and took another sip of my coffee.
She stood up and went over to the counter and brought back the pot,
refilling our cups. When she came back, she was carrying her purse and as
she sat down, she opened it and took out her cigarettes. I watched as she
lit one of the long, slim white cigarettes and blew out a long stream of
white smoke from between her lips while gracefully holding the cigarette
between her slender fingers in a very feminine way.
That's when it dawned on me! I ... . I felt ... I felt the need! Oh,
Christ!! I knew what it was! Just as I knew that I needed to wear pretty
dresses and heels and make-up ... I knew that I had been programmed to ...
to smoke cigarettes!
It was very clear in my mind! If only I'd known how and why.
What I didn't know was that when our government had first begun the Lottery,
they had made sure that the economic success of certain industries was
looked after. Those industries had lobbied hard to make sure that they
would not fail. Every woman owned lots of clothes and wore make-up and
owned jewelry and . . . and almost all of them smoked! They only smoked
the long, slim cigarettes made especially for them!! That's how the tobacco
industry had gotten back on it's feet after the wars! And since the process
of changing us into women had given us a resistance to most diseases, they
used that fact to their own benefit! And the cash they generated from that
had helped put our country back it's feet.
I knew in my mind that I wanted to own lots and lots of clothes and that I
would always use make-up and wear jewelery and ... and ... but I didn't
... . couldn't know why. I was programmed that way! It's seemed so . .
so unfair! They had even made it impossible for me to resist it or complain
about it! I couldn't even talk about it with my mother! I knew I'd get
deathly ill if I did!
So ... feeling my inner embarassement, but appearing as natural and calm as
if I always had, I smiled at my mother as she blew another stream of smoke
from between her shiny red lips.
I looked at her purse and for an instant resisted. But the overwhelming
nausea made me blanch and I stopped. I smiled at her and asked, "Mother,
could I please have one of your cigarettes?"
Instead of the shocked look I expected, she just smiled and handed me her
pack of Virginia Slims and her lighter, saying, "Of course, Diana. Oh,
there are just sooo many things we're going to have to get you that I don't
even know where to start!" She laughed and I smiled as I took one of the
long, white, slim cigarettes from her pack and held it femininely between
the tips of my long, slender fingers, as if I had smoked all my life!
I just couldn't stop or resist, afraid of the pain, as I brought the slim
filter gracefully ... femininely, up to my lips and then lit my cigarette.
Surprised that I didn't even feel any irritation, I drew lighty on the
cigarette and then gracefully pulled it from my lips and inhaled the smoke.
I found myself holding my cigarette just like my mother, femininely,
gracefully up and off to one side of my head, my elbow resting on the table
as I exhaled a column of white smoke up and to one side. Jesus!! I could
even feel the need inside me being met! I was already an addicted cigarette
smoker without ever having smoked before!
My mother smiled at me, fully aware that there was nothing I could do to
stop myself, and acted as if nothing was wrong. Thank God at least for
that! She was doing all she could to ease my embarassement over my
predicament and though I couldn't say so, I appreciated it. If only I had
control over myself!
* * * * * more to come * * * * *
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