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Forward by the Author:
I wrote this story awhile ago, but only recently found it again
on disk. I apologize for its shortness. This is a way for me to
tell about a friend of mine. Many of the feelings I imagine that
went through his head led me to write a highly fictionalized
version of what happened
"The Tragic Story of Jason Moore" is slightly different than what
I am used to reading and writing. Many of us read the stories on
Fictionmania hoping that one day, the train of "careful what you
wish for" will secretly and in error attempt to punish us in a
way that we could only welcome with open arms: to change us into
a female form. We read of people who have femininity or
emasculation thrust upon them unwillingly or perhaps in trade,
and we think to ourselves: "How lucky they are." After reading
the many stories in this archive, I know I have uttered those
words.
Sometimes, however, I think many of us feel as "Jason Moore" did.
Some of the characters learn to live with their change, and
others don't. I believe, however, that some simply cannot live
with their change.
So they don't.
The Tragic Story of Jason Moore
A Very Short Story
By CtrlAltDelete
Newscast from January 8th, 2002
"Still missing today is Jason Moore, an Astoria native who was
kidnapped last Friday from the Queen's Clinic. Moore, 28, worked
as a volunteer at the abortion clinic, which has received at
least 200 bomb threats in the past 3 months alone. Moore was
overwhelmed by four men as he walked from the clinic after his
shift, and forced into a blue van, according to witnesses. Family
and friends describe Moore as an outgoing guy who would help
anyone, and stated that he didn't have an enemy in the world.
Fingers have been pointed at several pro-life organizations in
New York and the surrounding boroughs, accusing them of
orchestrating terror to put fear into the workers of the 30 such
clinics in the area. Most of the groups that have responded have
denied any connection to the kidnapping. Rev. Francis Shaker of
the anti-abortion group "Crusaders" had this to say: 'We do not
condone the use of violence to get the point across, it's absurd.
It is important to say, however, we do not condone this man's
occupation either. We will pray for this boy as we pray for the
thousands of the innocent children that are put into the trash
everyday by these clinics.' Police are asking that anyone with
information about the whereabouts of Jason Moore or his abductors
will contact the number on the bottom of the screen."
---
He stared out into the hallway, waiting for man making the large
awkward footsteps on the hardwood floor to show himself. A large,
lumbering figured appeared in the doorway, his body silhouetted
against the dimly lit yellow hall.
"You fucking disgust me, boy" he slurred slowly. He walked into
the room and sat down, opposite Jason.
More footsteps came from the hallway, faster, more determined
steps. Several men entered the room and circled around the chair.
One turned on the lights. Through the blood-water mix dripping
into his eyes, he could make out six men. They looked down on him
ready to pounce. The knots tied around his hands squeezed in
anticipation of the blow, which knocked him to the floor. They
kicked him upright and shuffled aside.
"No! That's not what we do here..." said a voice from behind the
other men. He approached Jason. "We don't want to rough him up
too much" he said, reaching behind him. Someone slapped something
into his hand. "We want people to see" he said softly, looking
down at the knife.
"Now how are people supposed to see when he's all fucking
bloodied up?" he asked the group of men. They nodded in
understanding. The man leaned down until his face was inches from
the tied up and beaten figure of Jason Moore. He shouted into the
wounds on Jason's head.
"How are people supposed to FUCKING LEARN? People like you can't
lean, can they? You sick fuck. How many babies did you murder,
boy? HOW FUCKING MANY?" Jason tried to hold his head up to face
him. The man spit into his eyes. He turned and walked toward the
far side of the room. "Wipe that shit off his face." A man took a
towel and brushed Jason's eyes dry. He blinked a few times to
regain sight.
The man motioned to three of the others, who positioned
themselves to pick up and move a bench. They placed it in the
center of the room, in front of Jason. Someone held onto his arms
and pushed upwards, forcing him to stand with the chair attached
to his legs. The man stood before Jason and spoke to the group.
"It's people like this who kill our innocent children. Look at
him. He's a fucking coward. You know that, I know that, and this
fucking coward knows that." Jason was trembling. "But that
doesn't matter does it? You know what I'm talking about, fucking
GOD knows it. And it's GOD you have to worry about boy, not me."
The man stood up onto the bench. "It was God who laid down the
Ten Commandments onto Moses, and one of those laws, repeated by
our lord Jesus Christ, was thou shalt not kill." He looked deep
into Jason's eyes. "THOU SHALT NOT KILL! Is it That FUCKING
HARD?"
The man got down and knelt down onto the floor as the men put
Jason, face up, onto the bench. They held his arms and legs down
onto the floor, his torso uncomfortably forced forward, into the
air. His neck bent just off the edge of the bench, forcing him to
force his head up.
"Now we don't have to worry about that do we?" He was sharpening
something. Jason could hear the sound of the blade brush up
against the stone. "We are going to do exactly what this man says
we prevent women from doing." Jason struggled. The men slammed
their fists into his body. He kicked and screamed as they tore
away his clothes, leaving him naked and bruised. "We are going to
take away your 'reproductive rights' as you like to call them,
sir." The men were laughing, seething him on.
"Cut the fucking pig!"
"Do it!"
"Castrate that son of a bitch!"
Jason knew what was coming. He screamed. He tried to get off this
hard, wooden operating table but the men held him until his arms
felt like they would pop out of the sockets. He became still,
anticipating the pain. A figure appeared over him, holding
something.
"You are going to get exactly what you have been giving." A long,
brass colored wire, sharpened at the tip slid across his skin,
scratching him. He saw the flash of a knife and a searing,
opening cut pierced his groin, shocking his system into
unconsciousness.
---
Newscast January 10th, 2002
"A subway patrolman discovered the beaten and tired Jason Moore
this morning. He was admitted to Mt. Sinai hospital and has been
recently upgraded from critical to serious condition following
surgery. Jason was found at the bottom of the stairs by the
subway line in Queens, not far from where he was abducted,
clutching a wound. The police and the hospital would not release
details of the man's injuries, but described them as
'catastrophic.' A note was found in his pockets addressed to the
police, apparently from the attackers admitting to the crime. A
conference will be held later this week to disclose any new
information about the case. Again, Jason Moore, found alive today
in Queens following last week's kidnapping at the Queen's
abortion clinic, listed in serious condition."
---
"Is he awake? Can I see him! What's happened?"
"Miss, he's still out, are you family?"
"I'm his wife. Is he okay?"
"Right this way please." The nurse led her to a man standing over
a desk, reading some papers. "Doctor, this is his wife."
"Good evening, Mrs. Moore, my name is Doctor Leslie, I will be
operating on your husband this evening."
"Oh God. Is he okay?"
"He's going to live, Mrs. Moore, don't worry. I have no doubt
about that."
"Oh thank god! Can I see him now?"
"No, He's still resting I'm afraid. He hasn't been awake at all
yet today. He was out before he was brought to the hospital and
remained that way. We made certain- Look. Mrs. Moore, please wait
in my office, just over there, and let me speak to you further
about this."
"Why? What's wrong!"
"Please, calm down. I'll be there in just a moment."
She sat quietly in his office, her heart racing. She imagined her
husband deformed and crippled, the worst. She thought he may have
brain damage from the bleeding, she had heard of this before.
What had those men done to him! Why? She excited her breathing
until it was noticeable. She had to calm down ...for Jason. She
knew if he'd see her like this it would only panic him more. That
could hurt him more. (More than what?) she thought. Oh God. She
sat nervously, waiting on the doctor.
He entered the office and sat down opposite a woman with tears
already forming in her eyes. "Mrs. Moore. When your husband came
to us this morning, we found heavy traces of barbiturates in his
blood, among other things. We think that whoever did this to him
knew if he was drugged during the kidnapping, there would be no
way he could identify them in-" He stopped. A few nurses were
standing outside the cracked door. The walked away quickly when
the silence told them they'd been noticed.
He got out of his chair and politely shut the door.
The nurses looked somberly at each other. "How do you think she's
going to take it?" one asked, staring into the ground as she
walked.
"I don't know. How would you take it? You got a husband."
"That's enough! Jesus, I don't even want to think about that."
They both heard loud sobbing as the door to the office opened
again from behind them. The woman stepped out wearily, crying
hard. She slumped back into a chair against the wall and wept.
Hours passed. The police finally arrived with the doctor. The
woman, almost as though this had awakened her, jumped up to walk
in there way. "Are you going to wake him up now?" The doctor and
detectives stopped to speak with her.
"Yes. We think maybe he might remember something, and to make
sure he's alright."
"Does he know yet?"
"No. Again, he hasn't been awake."
"Can I see him?"
"We would really like the police to see him first. You
understand."
"I need to see him!"
"Very well, but please, stand aside and let us ask him what we
need to know to catch the people that did this to him."
"...okay."
Jason Moore opened his eyes.
He felt jumpy all over, as though he needed to move. He felt a
mix of dull pain and numbness in his groin, as well as the IV in
his wrist. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry.
"Give him some water" the doctor motioned to one of the uniformed
men. He grabbed a plastic cup and went out to find the nurses
station.
"Mr. Moore, you are going to feel strange for a few moments.
That's just the IV kicking in, we need you conscious now. Can you
see me?" Jason squinted his eyes. He could make out a man in a
white coat, presumably a doctor, a couple policemen, and-
"Katie!" he whispered.
"I'm here sweetie..." she said, looking down at the floor, away
from him. She sat against the wall, waiting for the doctor to
tell him. When she looked over at him she imagined what he was
like under the covers. What he would be missing.
"Mr. Moore, as you may remember, some men attacked you a few days
ago. They hurt you pretty bad. Do you remember?" Jason nodded his
head. He remembered figures and pain and hallways, but little
else.
"My name is Doctor Leslie, I am going to perform your surgery
today. You received six stitches above your left eye for a minor
cut, as well as treatment for bruising on your left arm. You had
minor cuts on your abdomen and right arm which should heal
properly without scarring in a few days."
"Just fucking tell him." she said sadly, still staring away from
the bed.
"...other than your principal injury. You sustained a large
amount of blood loss from trauma afflicted to your groin and
genitals..."
It started to come back to him.
"...we will have to remove both testicles as well as most of the
scrotum due to large amounts of damage..."
Oh Jesus. Oh God.
"...also, due to heavy amounts of damage, the penis and erectile
tissue must to be removed..."
Oh God!
"Luckily the bladder was left unharmed and is able to fashion..."
Oh Jesus. He panicked. He tried kicking up his feet but the pain
in his groin was intense.
"We don't have to utilize skin grafting or any other methods that
may have jeopardized your recovery. You should actually be
completely recovered in a couple days with minimal swelling and
pain." The detective returned with ice water but Jason slapped it
aside. He screamed. The detectives left, both thanking god they
were not in this poor man's place, lying on a hospital bed, being
told this news today. The doctor stepped away after telling a
nurse to administer some pain killers. Katie ran over to the bed
and held his hand. As he wept into his pillow, she felt
uncomfortable and alone. The smell of the hospital and the state
of her husband intoxicated her. She put her head down on the bed
of her husband and fell asleep from exhaustion. He drifted into a
nightmare shadowed with the doctor's statement.
He came out of surgery early the next afternoon. He lay flat on
the bed, afraid to move. He felt a tube, a catheter, against his
knee, leading to some bad at the end of the bed. The dressing
around his groin felt like a hundred layers of underwear, too
tight to wear. Katie noticed he was awake.
"Hey sweetie! You're awake!" she said meekly, walking over to
him.
"Katie."
"Yeah, babe?"
"Take the sheets off the bed. I want to see."
"...I don't think that's a good idea Jason."
"Please. I have to know." She moved over to the bed and moved the
tubes and cords around the sheets and covers so she wouldn't
knock anything over. She took the whole bedspread off in one
move. She set it on the floor, and began to fold it, afraid to
look.
Jason didn't move. He remained starring at the ceiling.
"Katie?"
"Yeah" she whispered.
"What do you see?" She moved over to the side of the bed and
looked at him. He looked as though he had on panties stuffed with
toilet paper from the front. The catheter came from between his
legs, somewhere underneath the dressing. Other than the padding,
there was no doubt in her mind what she saw.
"Katie? Katie please." he pleaded. She trembled. Her hands shook
as she spoke.
"...There's nothing there babe..."
His put his hands on his stomach, afraid to go lower, but he
couldn't stop himself. His legs bent into the air, like a child
exploring itself for the first time out of the womb. His hands
felt the padding, the bandages, and a horrifying shape of
numbness underneath that made his breath almost stop.
They turned on the television on the second day as they removed
the dressing and took out the catheter keep his mind off of
things. He stood up as they unwrapped him. He felt like a mummy
slowly being exposed. At least the image put a smile on his face
a little, until he remembered what they would encounter at the
end.
"In a follow-up story on the Queen's Clinic kidnapping, the
police have released the note and the police report in hopes that
this will aid in the capture of the attackers. The police report
outlines in gruesome detail that Jason Blair had his genitals
mangled with a sharp instrument. Doctors confirm the report, and
say the 28 year old man's genitals had to be removed because of
the sustained injury."
"Oh God! Now all fucking New York knows! You can't tell people
this shit! What about privacy?" he screamed at the television,
but the mockup of his face next to the reporter didn't answer."
"...in Tennessee and North Carolina, where similar castration
incidents have occurred." Castration? That's right. He had never
thought about that word but it was true. This is what had
happened to him. He was a Eunuch. Jesus Christ.
"...Police say the note gives many clues about the identity of
the group, which they claim may be responsible for the deadly
abortion clinic bombing in Washington State in 1995. The Federal
Bureau of Investigation has come under fire recently for calling
the crime 'a political act that can be handled by local police.'
Critics say the pro-life administration is putting pressure on
the federal agency to not get involved. The White House has not
responded to questions regarding the incident."
Jason wasn't listening anymore. He was focusing on the feeling of
his skin. The skin between his legs. It was smoothly shaved from
the operation which added embarrassment. He felt the open air
between his thighs. He focused on the sensation, and blacked out,
falling back- into the bed.
The ride home was miserable. Whenever Katie, his wife of five
years, would drive them anywhere she would tickle his inner
thigh, and get just close enough to tease him. Today she wore
gloves, and held tightly on to the steering wheel. They sat in
silence until Jason couldn't take it anymore.
"Katie" he said quietly. "Katie what are we going to do?"
"...We're going to go home."
"You know what I mean."
"I don't know."
"...you know I can't be your husband."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm not a man."
"Yes you are. You're still a man."
"No. I'm a fucking eunuch, Katie. And more than that."
"..."
"The doctor and I talked about it. A eunuch is someone who gets
their balls removed. At least they got to keep their penis."
"Stop! Please."
"What are we going to do?"
"...I still love you."
"Yes but-"
"I could live sort of like a lesbian I guess."
"Are you saying I'm a girl now?"
"Well Fuck, Jason! If you're not a guy ...what are you?"
"..."
"I'm sorry. I just- look, we could get one of those..."
"What?"
"Strap on ...things."
"Oh God. Jesus Christ Katie."
"Well what do you want me to say? I don't know what to do."
"..."
"It will be okay. I promise."
"Okay."
And they sat in silence. He starred out the window watching the
buildings go by faster than he could focus, and dazed to another
place. A warm bed where he and his wife were laying next to each
other, looking into each other's eyes, kissing. He felt himself
become erect, and he entered her. He thrust smoothly within her
over and over again, releasing orgasm upon wonderful wave of
pleasure. He stroked her breast, he fell asleep in her arms,
kissing her, pulling away so softly he never actually felt his
penis hit the sheets. And the cold snap of the New York winter
brought him back. He sighed and followed her up to the apartment.
They slept in the same bed that night. He thought maybe she
wouldn't. She didn't cuddle up against him, she kept to her side
of the bed and fell asleep. He tried the same. He went to the
bathroom and turned on the light. He looked down at himself. He
was wearing the plaid pajama pants Katie got him for Christmas.
Usually he would see his erection stretch the pants out in front
of him. It was one of the annoyances he now wished he could have
again. He looked even closer. A semen stain was almost to the
waist level of the pants, just above the top button. That's how
big he used to be. It looked like an impossible length now.
Nothing was there. The most comfortable position for the pants
was to have the tie waist up just below the belly button. When he
looked down, however, he saw the crotch of a girl. He sat down,
pitifully, to urinate. He wiped himself, shuddered and went back
to bed.
The next day he received flowers and cards and gifts from the
hospital and people around the city. Katie weeded out the prank
letters and offensive letters. He received a call from the clinic
asking him when would be good for a comeback party. He didn't
even think about going back, but now it appealed to him. There
would be a place where he would receive sympathy and
understanding. There would be a place where he could set his mind
on work and not worry about his problems.
He lay up on the couch for most of the day, and unplugged the
phone jack to make calls from talk shows and news programs stop.
Katie cooked some food for the two of them, and they stayed up
that night watching movies. For the first time since he returned,
she let him rest his head in her lap while they ate popcorn and
watched rentals. The thought that his own lap may feel similar to
rest in did not cross his mind, until he got up. They went to
bed.
She slept facing him. He looked at her skin, glowing in the light
from the street coming in through the window. A portion of the
covers fell away from her leg, revealing just a bit more skin. He
was frustrated with himself. He felt aroused in some way, with no
release! It felt like some horrible nightmare where erections no
longer confirmed his sexuality. He spoke softly to her sleeping
ear.
"Sweetie? Katie? Did you mean what you said in the car? Can we
still love each other... Sweetie, if I didn't have you through
this I don't know what I would do. I love you sweetie. Good
night."
Katie drove him up to the clinic the next day. They parked their
car in the gated lot and went inside. Everyone seemed happy he
was there, and they gave him a cake that said "Welcome Back,
Hero!" The doctors of the clinic each gave a small speech of
appreciation to the bravery of Jason Moore. A few had cried.
There were only a few patients that day, and they were cordial
and polite. They were going to open up a bottle of champagne to
celebrate. Jason offered to get it from the kitchen.
Out of the din of the party he could hear them. Outside. The
protesters. They came today, of all days. He cracked open the
blinds on the window in the kitchen to see them.
They were chanting something. They were holding signs. He
collapsed as he saw them. One was a crude cartoon drawing of a
woman with a moustache that said "Little Miss Jason Moore:
Murderer." Another was a picture of an aborted fetus with a
caption that said "Dick-less Wonder Jason Blair: you deserved
what you got." Another: "How does it feel to be like the whores
you serve?"
Katie stumbled in on him starring out the window. "Don't worry
about them" she consoled. He couldn't help but stare. He opened
the window a little. The chanting became clear. "Jason's Sex
Change- God's will! Jason's Sex Change- God's will!"
They smuggled him out the back through another driveway. The
protesters shifted and surrounded the car as it moved forward.
They shouted through the window. "How does it feel to be a chick
you fucking murderer?!" "Burn in Hell Mrs. Jason Moore!" They
sped away from the clinic. Jason was curled up in the back,
punching the back of his seat in tears. He put his hand through
the glass of the side window. It shattered onto the road. They
arrived home; his hand bleeding, his heart broken.
Katie was on the phone with one of the doctors from the hospital.
Jason was in the living room sitting on an inflatable doughnut
seat, trying to relax. It was impossible.
"Look, doctor, he's never like that. He slammed his fist through
the window of the glass. What the hell are you giving him?"
"Well, Mrs. Moore they are part of his HRT, hormone replacement
therapy. He doesn't have testicles to produce testosterone
anymore so we have to provide it through medication and
injection."
"And that's going to make him so angry he punches glass?"
"...It's possible that he could become aggressive with the dosage
we need to give him."
"Well don't fucking give it to him!"
"Without it, he won't be able to feel like or function like a
man." She looked into the living room to make sure he wasn't
listening. She didn't want to embarrass him.
"Well, doctor, I don't think we really need to worry about that
do we? Look. How can we help him?"
"There is always estrogen."
"What, like female hormones?"
"We could put him on a small enough dosage to make sure he
doesn't develop osteoporosis."
"Yeah, but what else would that do?"
"...It may have some relatively small side effects."
"Like what, is his voice going to get higher?"
"No, that can't happen, but ...fat distribution may develop in a
feminine way, he may even act more passive, he could lose muscle
mass... ...the option is there, Mrs. Moore."
"Thank you doctor."
He bandaged his hand that night and climbed into bed with Katie.
They lay next to each other, inching closer, longing for the
physical contact they both missed. "Katie" he whispered. "Let's
try to enjoy each other as much as we can."
"...okay."
They stripped to the nude and climbed under the sheets. They
began to stroke each other's skin. They kissed. Her legs
shuddered awaiting him. He squeezed her arms and lost himself.
She was smiling. He swung his legs over her and looked down onto
her face; her beautiful eyes half open; half looking at nothing.
"Yes, Jason..."
He moved backward and prepared to enter her, sliding away in a
motion that would allow him to begin slowly and move inside her.
He thrust forward slowly - and missed. She reached up to assist
him and he reached down to assist himself, but they only found
each other's hand.
He fell back out of the covers and sulked by the bed, panting.
"I can't." she said. "I can't fucking do this Jason! I'm not a
god damn Lesbian!" She put her clothes back on. "I almost forgot
you didn't have- This won't work." She cried.
She left that night with a few bags of clothes.
He stayed up all of that night. He paced back and forth in the
apartment, trying to find someway of relieving the stress built
up in his head and body. He looked down at himself and came up
with an idea. He pulled out some of Katie's lingerie that she
left behind. He found a pair of black panties- the thong style he
loved so much on her. He put them on. He looked at himself in the
mirror. "Something's missing..." He went into the bathroom and
applied Nair all over his legs. He shivered and waited, rinsed
off the burning lotion and all of his leg hair. He stood in front
of the mirror, collapsed and wept. He held on to himself and
rubbed himself, trying to find something, anything. But nothing
came. He screamed at his stupidity.
He was the ugliest thing he had ever seen.
He searched for more clothes, but stopped. Nothing was going to
make him look normal. Every pair of pants made him look even less
like a man. But he wasn't a woman! He went over every scenario in
his head. No one would ever love him, he could never love. He
would never get a job because everyone knew him and knew what he
was. Nothing could make this better. He lost his balls, his
penis, he was a freak now. He looked out over the New York City
skyline, and thought about the protesters.
He was screaming.
He felt as though if he didn't urinate soon he would soil the
carpets. He composed himself and made for the bathroom. He
thought about Katie, what she must have been through during the
kidnapping, what she went through when she found out. He opened
the bathroom door. He thought about the hospital, the nurses
there, how he could swear they would make jokes about him while
they thought he was unconscious. He stood before the toilet,
feeling as though he was about to wet himself. He reached down to
relieve himself.
"More mystery to the Queen's Clinic kidnapping, tonight, the body
of Jason Moore was found in his wife's apartment, an apparent
suicide. Jason was found nude in the apartment, owned by
Katherine Moore, with a gunshot to the head. The gun was found
inches from his hand. Mrs. Moore failed to comment to reporters
about her husband but their family attorney did state that Mr.
Moore's mental health was dramatically weakened by the kidnapping
incident. He said 'I don't think Jason could take it anymore.'
Jason Moore was the victim of a kidnapping a week ago in Queens
due to his connection with an abortion clinic. The kidnapers
injured Mr. Moore so badly his genitals had to be removed
completely. Police are still looking for the attackers. The city
prosecutor's say now they will charge the men, when caught, with
homicide. The clinic where Mr. Moore worked has erected a
memorial for Jason, which has already been vandalized by pro-life
protesters. In other news, the Mets' General Manager today..."
Mila
- 04.03.2020
- 34
- 0
