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 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
smirk 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 smirk 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 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!
END
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