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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. 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 it a horror story. A mild one, but again, it would fit my definition of horror. 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 revolted 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. They were 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!