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Been a long time since I felt like writing. The subject is controversial - please heed my notes below. Operation Rescue A pro-life couple laments that they can't do more to prevent abortions. However, since he directs a lab doing biomedical research, the husband looks for ways to help. ****** Author's Notes: The subject of this story includes the debate around abortion. I recognize that not all will share my particular views on the subject, and I do not intend to demean those with different views or impose my views on others. We are adults, and in controversial subjects, reasonable disagreement is possible if we stay open-minded. The framework of the abortion debate was a necessary tool for developing this story (as you will see). Without that controversial framework, the story could not have unfolded the way I intended, with its own internal controversy. If you cannot read a story with a different viewpoint on ethics, abortion, or sexuality, then please stop and save yourself the trouble. If you can't read a story with a divergent viewpoint without making an ad hominem attack on others with whom you disagree, then please stop and remain silent. If, however, you have an open mind toward the opinions of others, then I hope you find this tale thought-provoking and an enjoyable (if unpredictable) read. The ending itself was difficult to develop. Even as I wrote the first draft, the ending was unsatisfying. I ended up writing two endings; you will find them noted as ALTERNATE ENDING A and ALTERNATE ENDING B. Neither is without controversy as well. You will understand as you get to them. I would like to thank Ellie Dauber for review and editing of this tale. Even with a different view of the subject matter, valuable review and suggestions were provided, most of which I have gratefully incorporated. [email protected] ********************************************************************** Operation Rescue Brian Morris gave the slightest glance toward the back door when he heard the key, then returned his focus to his laptop. Seated at the kitchen table, he looked out of place, as if he should be in an office instead - the office of a 40-year-old high-level manager. Which he was - almost; he was a 37-year-old high-level manager. One would have expected a man sitting in a Breeakfast nook in his home, alternating his attention among light Breeakfast, a large cup of steaming coffee, and a laptop, to be dressed as casually as the setting, especially on a Saturday morning. Brian was not; he wore a crisply-starched white shirt and tie, with his suit jacket draped over a chair. He looked like he belonged anywhere but a Breeakfast nook - five feet ten, slender of build, hair neatly combed, face impeccably shaved, everything about him looked thoroughly professional, instead of a typical man relaxing at the Breeakfast table on a weekend. As the door swung open, he sensed rather than saw the people enter. "Hi, dear," he said automatically. "Good day?" Linda Morris sighed heavily, then glanced at the other woman, her friend Liz. "No," she reported. Even though her husband seemed to be focused entirely on his computer, she knew - after 19 years of marriage - that he really was listening. Unlike most couples who married young, they had worked as a pair to get ahead, including advanced college degrees for both, and then hard work to found a company. Despite that, they obviously were well tuned to each others needs and emotions. They were a well-matched pair - Linda was a few inches shorter than Brian, and like him, kept herself in perfect trim. Her auburn hair was perfectly styled, even after a full morning of activity, and her dress was stylish and modest. Despite that, there was a definite unpretentious air about her. Brian frowned, then sat back and looked over the screen at the two women. "Oh?" He seemed surprised. Linda snorted. "It's getting tough, now - ever since that ruling." Liz nodded, her face drawn with anxiety. "Yeah. It's almost illegal to protest now." Liz was a counter to her friend Linda; a bit rounder than Liz, and several inches taller, her hair had a bit of playful disorder to it, and her clothing looked more casual. Brian nodded in understanding. "Well, the court is what the court is." He shook his head. "One would have thought that this is as clear a First Amendment case as anything." Linda plodded to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea. "Yeah, but that's not how the courts are interpreting it." She glanced, noticing his coffee by the laptop, then fetched a pair of glasses from the cupboard. "Or the police," Liz added. "They were really threatening today." Brian's eyebrows shot up. "Threatening? How?" Linda nodded as the ice cubes clinked from the dispenser into the glasses. "They threatened us with arrest, even though we were more than twice the proscribed distance from the clinic." "And we weren't loud or anything," Liz added. "Just carrying our signs, peacefully offering our advice. Normal peaceful protest." As Linda poured the tea into the glasses, she added, "How can we be threatening if we're not within a hundred yards? How can we intimidate if they won't let us talk?" She shook her head, anguish flitting momentarily across her features. "How are we supposed to save the unborn?" Brian closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep Breeath. "Yeah. It's not enough to have it legal, but they want to make sure no one can voice any opposition." He shook his head. "Typical of some groups - they scream about tolerance, but they're totally intolerant of any dissent from their views and opinions." Liz took the glass, then took a small sip of tea. "If the girls don't want the babies, it's too bad we can't adopt them." Linda nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure there are lots of women who would want to have a child." She took a deep drink of her tea, an action which obscured the surprised look which flitted across her husband's features. ********** Brian smiled as he stepped into his office; though he was early, as usual, his secretary was already at her desk. "Morning, Lucy," he said as he strode across the room. "Good morning, Mister Morris," the secretary answered with a smile. "How was your weekend? Did you actually take some time off, or were you working at home all weekend again?" Lucy Johnson was a slightly chubby African-American secretary, a very trusted friend who often gave him wise advice and kept his business out of trouble. Brian laughed. "You know me too well. I was trying to get ahead of the organ regen patent issues. And you?" Lucy smiled. She knew this wasn't just idle small-talk. Brian Morris was the kind of man it was nice to work for. He was genuinely interested. "Mostly okay," she answered cheerfully. "Tom was home from college, so it was a bit busy." Brian had a momentary recollection of when he'd been in college. "So you spent a lot of time doing his laundry, while he emptied your 'fridge, right?" Lucy laughed, a soft, pleasant chuckle. "You know the drill." She didn't look old enough to have a college-age son, let alone the fact that her college-age son was the youngest of five. "I'd like you to get our attorney as soon as possible." Brian directed. Lucy smiled. "I read your e-mail. He's in the office." Brian started, knowing that he shouldn't have. Lucy was the most efficient aide he'd ever had. "Okay." "And Charlie Henderson is on his way." Brian sighed. "What would I do without you?" "Probably go out of business," Lucy answered with a smile. "And now, nobody is to disturb the three of you, even if the building is on fire." Brian stepped past Lucy's desk and into his office, shutting the door softly behind him. His mind had already shifted gears, from pleasant conversation to one hundred percent business. He knew that it was apt to be a long morning. Nearly three hours later, undisturbed as ordered, the three men walked out of the office. Brian looked much relieved. After a quick handshake, the lawyer walked out of the office, leaving Brian, Charlie, and Lucy. "I take it things went well," Lucy speculated easily, looking up from her computer. Brian nodded. "There might be one minor issue with the patent application, but it looks good." Lucy smiled. "Remember - you promised me a new Miata when the patent goes through." Charlie laughed aloud. "As if you'd ever let Brian forget." "And if the patent goes through like we expect, it's only fair. You _did_ put in a lot of work and long hours."" "Most of the credit belongs to the other folks," Lucy countered humbly. "You always understate your importance," he said with a laugh. "It's only fair. If this goes the way the attorney thinks, we'll be able to afford to buy new cars for you and everyone else who worked on this project." Lucy smiled. "Right now, I'll settle for the bonus to help pay for Tom's college." "It'd pay for Harvard if Tom wants!" Charlie said with a laugh. "When this works, it's going to save a lot of people a lot of heartache. No more waiting and hoping for organ donors. No more anti- rejection drugs. All the hope ..." Her voice cracked; Brian and Charlie knew of Lucy's personal motivation. She'd watched her father die from complications of kidney failure from a work-related injury, while he waited and hoped for a donated kidney that never came. She'd thrown herself into this project with more energy than anyone because of those memories. Even if she didn't know the first thing about making donor cells revert to stem cells or growing a bio-scaffold for the new organ, she still did her administrative tasks as if they alone would make the difference of the project's success. She'd made a huge difference in the project, simply by keeping the office running smoothly and keeping countless interruptions at bay, while Brian, Charlie, and the others did the research. Brian smiled. It was good to see the project _finally_ coming to fruition. It had been a very long and difficult time, especially getting the extra funding. Now it was going to pay off - possibly making multi-billionaires of the partners, and millionaires of the staff. "Charlie, let's go visit the lab." One side of the doors was paneled, carpeted, and looking like a posh office suite of a successful company (which it was). The other side of the doorway, however, was a total contrast. With its stark white tiled floor and rows of biomedical equipment, it looked like a surgical suite. And just as the door marked a transition between the facets of the business, so too did Charlie and Brian completely shift as they passed through the door. Gone were two businessmen. The two almost took on a different physical appearance, as they became a pair of medical researchers. For several moments, they strode down the sterile corridor, Charlie waiting patiently for Brian to say something. "What's up?" he finally asked. Brian stopped abruptly in the hall. "What do you think about abortion?" he asked simply. Charlie frowned. "I try not to," he answered honestly. He sighed. "I don't really know. For me, it's a huge dilemma. On the one hand, as a biologist, I know that a fetus is a genetically unique individual. On the other hand, the burden of pregnancy on poor and unwed mothers ... " he shook his head. "Who am I to tell them what they can and can't do?" He sighed again. "I'm glad it's not my decision to make." "And the religious angle?" Brian continued. Charlie sighed. "You know I'm not a really religious man. If there is a God, then it must be heartBreeaking for him to see us destroying what he created in a tiny baby. But I'm not sure." Brian nodded. "You know how Linda and I feel. It's wrong. It's the destruction of a unique human being. And yet, so many factions seem to think that it's okay to kill an innocent unborn baby." Charlie nodded sympathetically. He knew Brian like a brother; they'd been friends for years before they'd founded the company. He frowned. "Why?" They _acted_ like brothers, despite the total lack of physical resemblance. Charlie was a head taller than Brian, and where Brian was trim, Charlie was downright skinny. Ten years older, Charlie was already balding, and he wore thick glasses. If he owned a suit, he never wore it; his constant garb was a well-worn white lab jacket, even in formal meetings. Though both were well-educated in science, Charlie looked the part of a scientist, while Brian looked the part of a professional manager; the combination was perfect to work with potential investors. Brian didn't answer; instead, he turned down the hall and strode quickly to a lab, with Charlie close on his heels. Cage upon cage of laboratory rats lined one wall. Brian stopped and gazed at the rats, seemingly lost in thought. He paused to stare at one rat, visibly pregnant. "What if that one didn't want her babies?" he posed. "What could we do to save the babies?" Charlie frowned. "I'm not following." Brian turned, then smiled enigmatically. "Suppose another rat were to volunteer to finish carrying the pups to term. Could we do that?" Charlie's eyes widened as the implications of Brian's question sank in. "You mean, like transferring the pups from the pregnant mother to a different host mother?" He got a far-off look in his eyes as he began to think through the problem. Brian noticed, knowing that once Charlie got his mind on a puzzle, it was as good as solved. "I'll let you and your staff ponder this one." ********** The sun had long gone down, but Brian sat at the Breeakfast nook, furiously typing away at his computer. The ever-present cup of coffee had long ago ceased steaming, a fact of which Brian seemed oblivious. As he worked, he barely noticed the sound of the door opening. Linda came in with her constant companion Liz, sighing heavily as she did, then she saw her husband. "Hi, dear," she called, trying to sound chipper. The attempt failed, but he didn't seem to notice. Linda realized that he had on his "work face". She stepped beside the table and kissed him on the forehead, Breeaking his concentration. "Evening, sweetheart," she repeated. "Hi," Brian grunted in acknowledgement, visibly annoyed at having his focus interrupted. "Have a good day?" Linda knew that his question was reflex. "Mostly. A tornado tore up the office, Liz was nominated to the Supreme Court, I'm pregnant, and an asteroid hit downtown." "That's nice," Brian answered, highlighting the fact that he hadn't mentally registered her comments. He heard Liz's light chuckle, then he frowned as his mind replayed her comments. "I wish you wouldn't do that," he snorted. "You do tend to get too focused on your work," Linda replied lightly. "Sorry. I'm just trying to get this paper finished up before the deadline." "Which is..." "Tomorrow at noon." He looked up at his wife. "How was the rally?" Linda shook her head. "Really bad. I didn't think it would get worse, but it is." Brian looked up from his computer, meeting his wife's eyes. "What would you do to save an unborn child?" Linda was taken aback by the question. "You know I'd do almost anything," she answered softly. "I - Liz and I - we pray, we go to pro-life Mass, we work to educate pregnant girls - you know that." "What would you do?" Linda frowned. "I'm not following you." She sounded more than a bit frustrated at his question. "Would you loan out your womb to carry an unborn child to term?" "What?" both women asked in near unison, startled by his question. "Would you loan out your womb to carry an unborn child to term?" Liz started to gasp for words, and Linda's eyes narrowed. "You're ... you're serious." "Um hmm." "Yes, but ... that's not possible," Liz stammered. Linda opened her mouth to add her comments, but a thought interjected itself into her mind. "You ... you've been doing something at work?" Brian nodded, then punched a few keys on the computer and turned it so the women could see. As the sequence of pictures appeared, the women's expressions turned to incredulity. "You _are_ serious," Linda finally noted. Brian nodded solemnly. "We've done dozens of transfers in the lab so far - with rats. Every single pup was delivered healthy after a normal gestation. It should be possible to repeat the procedure in humans. Easier, in fact." "You mean, like rent-a-womb?" Liz asked, still stunned at what she was seeing and hearing. "But ... the cost ..." Her voice trailed off as she remembered just how much money Brian's company was making on royalties from the organ-cloning process they'd patented. If Brian and Linda set their mind to this, cost would not be a factor. ********** "How are you doing today, Brian?" the man asked, warmly clutching and shaking Brian's outstretched hand. Brian smiled, attempting to cover up his concern. "Just fine, Father." "Well, then, I take it this is a social call if everything is just fine?" The older gentleman's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Or is something not quite so 'just fine' that you want to talk to your parish priest?" With a rim of white hair around a balding top, his portly short stature, and his warm smile and sparkling eyes, the priest seemed grandfatherly, even to a middle-aged man like Brian, a priest straight out of central casting. "Well, Father O'Donnell," Brian confessed sheepishly, "there is something on my mind." "Ah, and so I figured. Few are those who visit their priest on a purely social call." He sighed, then turned, gesturing that Brian come into his office. "Why don't we have a seat, then, and talk about it." Father O'Donnell was not merely Brian's parish priest, but had also been a well-respected adjunct professor in BioEthics when Brian had been in graduate school. Often, Brian consulted him when his research and his religious beliefs seemed to conflict. Brian followed Father O'Donnell into the office. "Coffee?" Father O'Donnell asked simply as he stepped to his credenza, and Father O'Donnell's ever-present Mr. Coffee that kept a warm supply of the beverage. Brian smiled. "I think I had too much at work today already." He slid into a chair opposite the priest's desk. Father nodded. "The vice of too many these days," he agreed. "Including myself," he confessed, as he poured himself a cup. He took a sip, luxuriating for a brief moment in the aroma and taste, then he sat down behind his desk. "So what's on your mind?" Brian glanced at the desk between them, his brow furrowed as he quickly organized his thoughts. "I'm at a moral sticking point," he finally said. "And what would that be?" "My company has come up with a way to transfer a fetus from one mother to another." Father O'Donnell's eyes narrowed. "As ... an emergency way of saving a baby? Like prior to surgery or chemotherapy?" he speculated. Brian winced. "Actually, the goal is to save a baby that a mother would otherwise abort." "I see. A most noble goal." Father O'Donnell read Brian's expression. "But..." "But I'm not sure if it conflicts with the Church's teachings about natural reproduction." "In what way?" Brian swallowed before continuing. "In the process, the host mother has the baby transferred to her womb, thus allowing the baby to be carried to term." "It sounds like a risk to all 3 - the mother, the surrogate, and the baby." Brian nodded. "It's intended as an elective procedure, and if the girl were going to have an abortion, the baby would be lost anyway." "And the host mother?" "Haven't there been a lot of martyrs who risked, and even sacrificed, their lives to save others?" Brian asked cautiously. Father O'Donnell eyed Brian warily. "It sounds like you're trying to justify something that you've already done." Brian started, then he shook his head. "No, we haven't done the procedure with humans. Only lab rats. But we have gotten approval from the FDA to do clinical trials. We're ready to get volunteers." Father O'Donnell frowned. "I _know_ this is above the Diocesan Chancery. Probably above the US Congregation of Bishops. This is probably one for the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith." He shook his head. "It sounds okay, even noble, but, as you say, it is interfering with the process of reproduction - and you know how the Church feels about that. When were you planning to start testing?" Brian gulped. He'd anticipated some theological concerns, but had thought it better to start the research immediately rather than wait for what might be years. "We're interviewing volunteers starting Monday. Once they're approved, they start hormone therapy to prepare their uteruses for the transfer." "You know the doctrine about artificial interference in the reproductive process." Brian nodded. "The hormone therapy is not like artificial insemination. It's merely to prepare the womb for the transfer, but without ripening egg follicles. No eggs, no AI." He sounded almost desperate. "Besides, doesn't the church allow organ transplantation as a medical procedure?" "There's a bit of difference between transplanting a liver, say, and transplanting a baby," Father O'Donnell chided. "Surely you know that." He shook his head. "This sounds way above my humble understanding," he observed. "I'll have to run this up through the chain, probably all the way to the Vatican." He saw Brian's expression. "But you're going to go ahead and start anyway, aren't you?" Brian swallowed hard, then nodded almost imperceptibly. "Linda and I can't stand the thought of another innocent baby being killed, especially if I have the techniques to save it." He reached in his jacket pocket and produced a paper. "I figured it would get run up the chain, so I've copied down links to the published papers for the bishops." Father nodded solemnly. "I understand your motives, but I would strongly urge you to wait until it's been reviewed. This is a very serious matter." Brian nodded. "I know. And that's why I can't wait." Father O'Donnell sighed. "Then I'll pray for you, that the Holy Spirit will guide you to making the right choice, and that you'll not be committing a mortal sin." ********* Brian strode easily into the kitchen, where Linda sat at the Breeakfast nook picking at her Breeakfast. "Hi, honey," he sang out. Linda looked up, smiling. "Hi," she said. It was evident that her smile was not entirely genuine. Brian noted that fact immediately. "Despite looking radiant in your pregnancy," he mused, "something is bothering you." Linda chuckled lightly. "You know me well, dear." She leaned back, absently rubbing her hands on her enlarged belly. She looked to be about seven months pregnant, and clearly happy about the fact. Still, something was bothering her. "It's just sad that there aren't more women who are willing to help." A knock sounded at the back door, and even before Brian could turn, the door opened, and the seemingly-ever-present Liz let herself in. "Hi, Brian," she sang out as she waddled into the kitchen, her hands cradled below her own swollen belly. Laboriously, she eased herself into a chair at the Breeakfast table. "You're slowing down a bit," Brian noted playfully. Liz sighed heavily. "You try skipping and jumping while eight months pregnant," she retorted. "It's not easy, you know." "Men - they'll just never understand what it's like for us," Linda observed critically to her friend. "They think being pregnant is a walk in the park." Brian refused to take the bait. "You just missed Linda's complaint that there aren't enough surrogate wombs to go around." Linda's expression fell. "Yeah. Even with your foundation paying the expenses, not enough women are volunteering." Liz frowned and nodded in agreement. "You'd think that all the infertile couples would be lined up to help. You'd think that all the women who gather to pray for an end to abortion would put their wombs where their mouths are." Brian shrugged. "You know how most people are - long on talk and short on action." Linda shook her head. "And I'm really getting sick of the men in the movement and their self-righteous moralizing about those who won't volunteer." "Yeah. All they're doing is annoying some women who would volunteer. If they'd just shut up." "Or volunteer themselves," Linda sneered. "But since they don't have wombs, they feel like they can get preachy." "What do you expect?" Brian asked simply. He'd heard this line of discussion many times already. "If it were up to me, I'd give them each a uterus and _then_ see how many would volunteer!" Liz spat angrily, to which Linda grumbled her assent. Neither of them noticed the thoughtful look flitting across Brian's features. ********** Brian walked purposefully into the lab, directly to Charlie, who had his back turned as he attended to one of his cloning experiments. Charlie's assistants noticed Brian almost immediately, and they stopped and turned toward "the boss". After a few moments, Charlie noticed that his assistants were no longer assisting. He glanced up, then turned, finally seeing Brian. He shook his head. "You should be masked and gloved," he chided, surprising a couple of his assistants. They didn't expect Charlie to talk to the boss that way. The more experienced workers, however, knew how things worked and were thus unfazed by the exchange. "Sorry. I got an idea." Charlie's eyes widened. "As profitable as the last two?" he asked simply. Brian had a knack for having very good ideas. "Don't know." Brian glanced at the staff now standing waiting. "Let's talk after you finish up." "Ten minutes," Charlie answered simply, to which Brian nodded. Charlie turned his attention back to the lab rats, already mentally dismissing Brian. It was more like twenty minutes before Charlie emerged from his lab, his mask pulled down around his neck. "What's up?" "Simple question - can we clone fully functional female reproductive organs from a cell sample?" Charlie frowned. "Sure. But I'll admit I'm a bit disappointed by your lack of imagination. We do that every day, after all. Nothing complicated about it." "From male cell samples?" Charlie's eyes widened. "What are you planning - going after the transgender market?" Brian laughed. "No. Just curious to see if it would be possible to do the fetus transfer to a male host." Charlie shook his head. "The whole surrogate thing again, right?" "Can we do it?" Charlie bit his lip. "Not trivial. We have to splice a tail onto the Y chromosome, and without triggering any chromosomal abnormalities." He thought for a moment. "If we can solve that, then it's very simple - like our basic Morris/Henderson process." "Let's give it a try," Brian urged without further explaining himself. Charlie shrugged. "I don't see why." "Humor me." Charlie laughed. "Whenever you say that, there's either lots of trouble or lots of money. Since my dear bride is trying to spend my money faster than I can earn it, I think I ought to bet on the 'more money' angle. Okay, I'll get started on it." ********** "Ah, Brian," Father O'Donnell called pleasantly as he rose to shake Brian's hand, "what brings you around this time? More money you don't know what to do with?" Brian laughed. "If I do, I know you'll find a way to put it to good use." He took the seat that Father O'Donnell was gesturing toward. "I've got another question." A frown flitted across Father O'Donnell's grandfatherly features. "Oh, dear," he sighed. "I was afraid of that." His shoulders slumped and he shook his head slowly. "Do you know what kind of chaos you caused in the Vatican with your last question?" He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "The whole issue of fetal transplants is driving the Congregation nuts. And now you're going to do it again?" Brian looked down at his clasped hands, feeling a bit guilty. "I'm afraid so," he acknowledged sheepishly. Father sighed again. "Shall we play twenty questions, or will you just come out and tell me?" Brian laughed, a hollow sound that betrayed the serious nature of his topic. "What would be the implications if a man were to have an artificial uterus implanted, and were to carry a surrogate - that is, a condemned, about-to-be-aborted, baby?" "What?" Father O'Donnell's eyes were wide as saucers. "Are you mad?" Brian gulped. "No, Father. We have the technology to grow replacement organs. Now we can grow substitutes." "Dear Lord!" Father O'Donnell exclaimed, audibly exasperated. "You're talking about using these substitute organs to do a sex change? So a man can be a surrogate mother?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Is that it?" Brian nodded weakly. "That's about it." "You're proposing turning a man into a woman to save a baby?" He closed his eyes, his head still shaking back and forth. After a few moments, he looked back at Brian. "It's not that bad," Brian said defensively. "We've tested a procedure with male rats. We grew a uterus, implanted it, then transferred rat fetuses to them." "You turned the male rats into females - and you're proposing to do this to people?" Brian winced. This wasn't going quite like he'd hoped. "No, not really." "So what did you do? Make them some type of gender hybrid?" "We implanted a uterus and miscellaneous organs." "Miscellaneous organs? Like what? A vagina? Ovaries? Fallopian tubes? What's left that isn't female?" Father O'Donnell stammered in disbelief. Brian winced. "Not much, I guess." Father shook his head. "You're going to cause me to tear out what little hair I have left," he commented without any trace of humor. "Good grief, Brian, do you know what you're doing? You're messing with the basic order of male and female, of man and woman. You're tinkering with the basis of God's creation and of sexuality." "You make it sound so bad," Brian protested weakly. "We're talking about saving innocent lives. Babies that would be aborted can have a chance at life." "And you know better than most that the ends cannot justify the means. Going against God's design is wrong, no matter what the result." Brian looked down, nodding ever so slightly. "I figured that's what your reaction would be." "And?" Brian looked back at his priest. "I've got some more reference papers to go up the chain." "Again." Father O'Donnell sighed in exasperation. Brian nodded. "Again." "And when do you start trials?" Father O'Donnell asked warily. "We're ready whenever we have a volunteer," Brian answered softly. "And you're going to go through with this. No matter how much I beg, counsel, advise, order, or plead with you, you're going to proceed. Because it's a way to save an innocent life." Brian nodded slowly. "Yes. That's about it." ********** Linda glanced over the top of her book at her husband again. He sat in his recliner, parked across the den from the blaring television, his legs propped up. And yet, as Linda observed, though he gave the appearance of watching the program, he was clearly distracted. He wasn't channel-surfing, and it did seem that he was engaged with the television, Linda recognized the small signs that he was thinking: his hand absently stroking his chin, the repetitive heavy sighs, the slight tilt of his head to one side - little things that years of marriage had taught her about Brian. She watched a bit more, waiting. Linda knew that, whatever was distracting Brian, he wasn't ready to talk about - yet. Her patience was rewarded. She saw the slight change in his posture, heard another heavy sigh - just a tad more than the previous ones. "What's on your mind?" she asked simply. Brian bit his lower lip, then sighed again. "What makes you think something's on my mind?" he asked, feigning innocence. "Because I know you," Linda smiled. "Now what is it?" Brian closed his eyes for a moment to focus his thoughts. "You remember what Liz said a few months ago? About how she'd give men a uterus to see who'd volunteer as a surrogate?" Linda frowned. "It's been a busy time," she reminded him. "The baby, starting to get ready for another surrogacy. I don't really remember that." Brian nodded quickly. She was right - it had been busy. "You were about seven months, and Liz came by. We were talking about how there weren't enough volunteers." Linda thought for a moment. "Oh, that's right. Now I remember." She got a far-off look in her eyes. "It seems so long ago." "Do you have any regrets?" Brian asked, abruptly changing the subject. "About the baby, giving it up for adoption? Anything?" Linda frowned. It wasn't like Brian to be this distracted. "No. None at all. Why?" Brian looked down at his lap, biting his lip again, visibly lost in thought. Finally, he looked up. "We figured out how to do it." "What?" Linda was confused, momentarily. "Oh. OH!" Brian nodded. "Yup. We grew a uterus for a male rat, then after transplanting that, we transferred some fetuses. It was completely successful." "You mean - you can now make it possible for men to be surrogates too?" Linda struggled to stifle her excitement at the possibilities. "Yes." Despite the revelation, Brian was still distracted. Linda noticed. "But?" "But during the pregnancy, the surrogate is effectively a fully- functioning female. Female organs, female hormones, pregnancy." "Oh." Brian nodded. "Oh is right. I'm sure that will dampen enthusiasm for the procedure." "What about permission to begin trials?" Linda asked. "Curiously enough, we don't need it." He saw Linda's confused look. "Organ cloning therapy is approved; the female organs are cloned, and thus approved. Gender reassignment surgery is approved, so no approval is needed there. And fetal transfer is an approved procedure." Linda read his expression. "You're worried about whether men would volunteer to be surrogates, so you've decided to volunteer yourself, haven't you?" Brian's head snapped around to stare at is wife, surprise registering at her deduction. He closed his mouth and nodded slowly. "Yes. If it's okay with you." Linda's eyes widened and brightened. "I think it's noble and wonderful and ..." She stopped suddenly as a new thought entered her mind. "What about after?" Brian smiled thinly. "After the pregnancy, we build cloned male organs, and then do another transplant to restore my ... manhood." "Okay," Linda answered. "But why ... why don't you just keep your male parts during the pregnancy? Have a C-section or something?" Brian noted her concern, realizing that the thought of not having a real husband during the surrogacy was weighing on her mind. "We tried that. It doesn't work too well for a number of reasons. First, the hormone level to support a pregnancy would effectively destroy a man's hormone production. He'd be left sterile and very probably incapable of functioning." He saw his wife's eyes widen. "Second, it'd be higher risk, since anything that started labor would cause emergency C- section surgery." "So that's why you were asking about the pregnancy and how I felt?" Linda sat back and stared at Brian for several long minutes as she thought. "It'd be selfish of me to say no, wouldn't it?" she finally said in more of a statement than a question. Linda silently rose and padded to Brian's chair, then sat on the arm, half in his lap. She slid an arm around his shoulders. "I know that you felt left out when I was carrying the baby." She saw him start in surprise. "Don't deny it," she chided softly. "I could see it in your eyes. I was getting to do something, but you couldn't. I could see how it hurt you, how you felt helpless and unable to participate." His expression showed that she was right. "And when we couldn't have our own..." It was an awkward moment, but she decided to end it by giving him a kiss. "I understand if you feel you need to do this." ********** "Are you absolutely sure?" Linda whispered in Brian's ear. She was leaning over the gurney in the pre-op room, where he lay beneath a too- flimsy blanket which covered his too-short hospital gown. "You don't have to do this, you know. The other volunteers have proven that the process works." Brian looked up in his wife's eyes. "I know. But I have to. You know why." Linda kissed his forehead. "I know. But I'm a little worried." Brian smiled. "And I was worried about you when you had your procedures." He glanced down at Linda's belly; she was in the fifth month of her second surrogacy. Absently, Linda held her hands under her stomach. "I think it's a little different," she said softly. "My procedure was a little less ... radical." Brian laughed. "You always said that you wished that I wasn't sensitive enough to you. Now I'll find out." Linda forced a smile; she was worried, and for more reasons than just the complications of surgery. But she gave Brian's hand a reassuring squeeze as the surgeon came into the room. "Ready?" Linda hadn't seen the surgeon sneak in behind her. Brian nodded. "I guess so." "Last chance to back out." He saw Brian shake his head. "Okay. Let's get going, then." He ducked out, and a pair of nurses appeared and started wheeling the gurney toward the operating room. ********** Brian, wrapped in his robe, walked into the living room and eased himself onto the sofa. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to this," he grumbled. Linda smiled. "Did you remember to put the seat down first?" Brian frowned at her. "I haven't bothered to lift it since the second time," he replied sharply. Too sharply, he realized almost immediately. "Sorry. I don't know why, but I'm a bit edgy." Linda smiled. "It's okay. Remember - I get like that once a month, too. It's the hormones." Brian felt an involuntary shudder. "You mean I get to look forward to this every month? No one said that was part of the deal." "Just until you get the transfer. Then it's a whole different set of feelings and emotions." Brian sighed heavily. "Well, if you can do it, I guess I can too." He picked his laptop off the coffee table and plopped it on his lap. Even that was different. He winced. Linda noticed the slight flinch. "You okay?" Brian sighed and rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't hurt anything. I'm fine. It's healed for almost 4 months. No stabbing pains, no throbbing. I'm fine." He saw that his wife didn't believe him. "It's just ... different." He saw Linda's eyes widen. "Simple things - like putting a laptop on my lap - without ... it." Linda felt a brief urge to laugh, but managed to stifle it. "I wouldn't have thought that not having ... it ... would be ..." She stopped, realizing that her words were going somewhere they shouldn't. Brian closed his eyes and took a deep Breeath, visibly controlling a flash of anger. "No jokes, please," he said through tightly clenched lips. "You may not understand, but not having _it_ is kind of a big deal." With a sudden flash of insight, he realized the absurdity of his statement. "Was a big deal," he started to snicker. "Sort of. Big enough." Linda guffawed. "Well, I miss it, too." "I hope I don't get too used to it not being there." Linda's eyes widened. "Oh?" Brian laughed. "Yeah. If I get used to it not being there, then when it's back, I'll end up hurting myself until I get used to it again. You really wouldn't understand unless you'd experienced accidentally hitting your own nuts on something." He saw a flash of relief cross Linda's face. "What? Were you worried that I wouldn't want it back?" Linda tried to shake her head, but a very brief look in her eyes that betrayed her - she had feared what would happen. She saw the stern look on Brian's face, and dropped her head. "Maybe a bit," she acknowledged after a pause. She looked up and saw the puzzlement on his features. "You don't understand, but I really like being pregnant. It's ..." She dropped her gaze as she searched for words. "It's rewarding. Lifegiving." She shook her head. "It's hard to describe, but I really like it." She sighed. "I'm just kind of afraid that you'll like it, too. Like it too much." Brian reached out and took her hand. "I have no intention of keeping," he glanced down at his lap, "these parts once I go through a pregnancy." He forced a smile. "I'm your husband, and that implies certain obligations ... and the parts that go with those obligations." His choice of words brought a smile to Linda's face. "I have to do this, though. To do something for life. To set an example for others. But I'm not keeping the parts. I promise." Linda nodded. "Okay. I won't let you forget that promise." Brian returned his attention to his laptop. After a few seconds, he absently rubbed his chest. Linda noticed. "Let me see," she prompted. Brian glanced up, surprised. "What?" "Let me see," Linda insisted again. Brian sighed, then opened his robe as Linda knelt beside the sofa. "Why are you making such a big deal about this?" Linda ignored him and examined the swollen rosy nipples on Brian's chest. Carefully, she touched them, feeling the tiny cones under the enlarged areolas. "Um, hmm," she muttered. "Are they a little sensitive?" Brian nodded. "Yeah, but it's no big deal." Linda glanced up at his face, a chiding expression on her face. "They aren't yet, but they are growing. Just like the doctor said. After all, you have female hormones running around your body now." "I know," Brian acknowledged tersely. "So my nipples are a bit sensitive and growing a bit. No big deal." Linda shook her head. "The doctor said you're going to grow some small breasts because of the hormones, and once you get pregnant, they'll really swell up." "Yeah, I know." "So maybe, since they're getting so sensitive, you'll listen to me and get a bra to help protect them from chafing and rubbing." Brian frowned. "Nope. I'm not getting a bra." "Suit yourself," Linda shrugged. "How big was your mother up top?" Brian started to answer, but his mouth hung open as he contemplated her words. "Uh, pretty big, I think. I don't really remember." "Uh, huh," Linda acknowledged knowingly. "She was pretty big. And the doctors said you can expect to be 2 or 3 cup sizes smaller - before pregnancy. So since she was a G-cup, that would mean you might easily grow to be a large C or D. Enough to be _very_ noticeable. And you will _definitely_ need a bra. Especially after they get engorged with milk late in your pregnancy. They'll be _quite_ large. And heavy. And you will _want_ a bra. So you might as well start with one now to get used to it." Brian sighed. "Why didn't you warn me about all these 'other' effects and issues?" He shook his head. "Losing 'it' is bad enough, but the little things are getting to me. Sitting in the bathroom. Feeling emotional. Feeling cold. Cramping and feeling bloated. Growing boobs." He stopped, wiping tears from his eyes. "And now I'm crying, for goodness sake! I feel like I'm out of control." Linda leaned against him, wrapping her arms around Brian. "It'll be okay," she cooed. "You're not used to this, that's all. It'll all be okay." ********** "Morning, Lucy," Brian called as walked awkwardly into the outer office. His suit looked totally rumpled, big and ill-fitting, and an observant person would have detected a bit of waddle in his gait. Lucy was just that type of observant person. "Morning, Mr. Morris. How are you doing today?" Brian sighed. "Some mornings are more challenging than others," he answered nonchalantly. "It's taking some time to get used to this." Lucy smiled. "It's worth it. You're doing something very important." Brian tried to smile. "I hope so. But it's not a lot of fun so far." He sighed again. "Anything on my calendar this morning?" Lucy glanced at her computer. "Nothing much. Just a review with the staff on your latest projects." Brian nodded. "Let Charlie handle that." "Too tired?" Brian sighed. "Not really." He glanced at the painting behind Lucy's desk, lost in thought for a moment. "You got a minute?" "Sure." Brian sighed. "Let's go in my office. I need some - advice." Lucy's eyes widened; she hadn't expected this. Still, the work team was like an extended family, and people in the office turned to one another for help and moral support. She tapped a couple of keys, then rose and followed Brian into his office. Surprisingly, Brian didn't move to his desk after he'd closed the door behind them. Instead, he eased himself down onto the sofa, one of the few luxuries he permitted himself in his office. He gestured for Lucy to sit at the other end. "Something's bothering you," Lucy stated plainly, more in a friend-to- friend tone than subordinate-to-boss. Brian bit his lip for a few seconds. "Yeah. Is it that obvious?" "Uh huh. So are you going to tell me, or do I have to play 20 questions?" Brian laughed at her candor. "You want to guess?" "The whole procedure, and the challenges of being pregnant. And how you look and how people react to you." Lucy was blunt and to the point - and dead-on accurate. "That's about it," Brian laughed softly. "Linda thinks I'm not getting out and that I'm withdrawing into a shell." "You are," Lucy affirmed. Brian sighed again. "It's awkward. I can't find comfortable clothes. If I get something to fit my expanding waist, it looks rumpled. I can't get shirts to fit. People stare at me like I'm a freak, and I'm starting to feel like I _am_!" His voice was trembling, bordering on Breeaking, and his eyes were misting. Lucy nodded sympathetically. "You knew this was going to be tough, right?" Brian nodded, dabbing at his eyes. "But not this tough. It's _everything_. Every day, everything I do, everyone I meet - it all reminds me that I'm different." "And what is Linda saying you should do?" Brian started, then half-smiled. He knew Lucy well, and she knew him. "She thinks I'd be more comfortable in real maternity clothes." He looked down, his cheeks reddening. "And ladies' underwear." Lucy started a tiny bit, then she smiled. "What do you think?" Brian's head snapped up, his eyes focused and narrow. "I'm not a woman," Brian said defiantly. Lucy didn't flinch. "Technically, you are, you know." Brian recoiled as if struck. His jaw opened to speak, to rebut her argument, but nothing came out. Finally, he closed his mouth and nodded mutely. Lucy stood suddenly. "Stand up," she ordered. Confused, Brian stood. "Now take off your jacket." Again, he complied. Lucy looked intently at his figure, studying his clothing and the way they hung on his body. "Hmm," she muttered to herself. "Wait here. I'll be right back." Without further explanation, she strode from the office. Brian watched her go, confused. Moments later, Lucy was back, carrying a measuring tape. "You're lucky my sister dropped by this morning to return this. Now let's see what we can do." She gently tugged Brian a step from the sofa. "Take off your shirt." "What?" Brian asked, alarmed. "Take off your shirt." Lucy saw his hesitance. "I _know_ you're wearing a bra. I can see the straps on your back. So you don't need to be embarrassed. Take off your shirt." She saw him still hesitating. "Look, it's just us _girls_ in here, so there's nothing to worry about." Reluctantly, Brian unbuttoned his shirt, then peeled it off. As Lucy had observed, he was wearing a bra - a plain white modest garment with only a slight hint of lace. "One of Linda's?" she asked, certain that if it was one of Linda's bras, it had to be one of the plainest ones she owned. Brian would have been too embarrassed to wear - or buy - anything fancier. Brian felt ashamed, naked, weird, exposed, as Lucy stared at him. "Yeah," he answered meekly. "Well, it doesn't fit very well," Lucy observed critically. "And before you start to question my judgement, you should know that I spent almost fifteen years working as a seamstress when my kids were younger. So I _know_ what I'm talking about. Got it?" "Yes, ma'am," Brian answered softly and politely. "Take it off." Brian complied without further protest. Lucy observed the red marks from the straps. "Too small," she said professionally. "So it probably hurts. Right?" She saw Brian's quick nod. "Okay, let's get you measured correctly. Brian felt extremely awkward as his secretary measured around the breasts on his chest. He wasn't supposed to have boobs, and even having them, he wasn't supposed to be showing them to his secretary. And at that, she wasn't supposed to act like she was doing a bra- fitting to any woman. It was quite unsettling. After taking some measurements, she glanced at her notepad. "The bra size is too small. Same for the cup size. You look like a full B cup right now." She turned him, studying how his boobs hung on his chest. "You've probably got some more to grow," she observed. "Plus when they fill. I think we'll start with a C-cup. And I'm guessing you want something in a minimizer?" She saw the confused look on Brian's face. "A bra that's designed to make your breasts look smaller." Brian nodded, a sparkle of relief in his eyes. "Now drop your trousers." After a momentary pause, Brian complied. Lucy looked at his boxer shorts with dismay. "You know, you're never going to get a good fit with these," she observed as she turned him slowly around. "Or hadn't you noticed that they're kind of tight in your rear." Brian pouted, "I noticed. My butt is getting bigger." Lucy smiled. "Because you're shape is a lot more womanly than manly these days. When we women mature, we get a lot rounder in the bottom. Since you're a woman now, that's the shape you've got." "Maybe, but I don't like it." "That may be so, but you're stuck with it, so you better adapt. First thing, let's get you some underwear that is more comfortable." Again the tape, and again, Brian felt humiliated as he was measured. Finally, she stepped back. "Go ahead and get dressed." Brian pulled on his trousers first, eager to hide his flat crotch. Then he started putting his bra back on. Lucy just watched, entertained by how he struggled with the garment. Then he donned his shirt, buttoned it and tucked it in, then he pulled his jacket back on. Done, he sat down again. "So what's the verdict?" he asked as Lucy studied her notes. She glanced up, then sat down again, still gazing at him. "Well, you've got two choices. First, you can keep dressing like you are, and be uncomfortable and look like a bum. Second, you can wear maternity clothes that fit better and will be more comfortable. Including suits if you so choose." Brian's eyes narrowed. "But." Lucy half-smiled. "But the maternity clothes are very feminine. You won't be able to disguise the fact that you're wearing woman's clothing." Brian's frown deepened. "So I'll either look like an uncomfortable bum, or a comfortable cross-dresser." Lucy nodded. "Or -" She let the thought hang. Brian closed his eyes and nodded slowly, already knowing the answer. "Or I can do like Linda - and now you - think, and present myself as a woman completely so I don't look like a transvestite and people don't treat me weird." "And you know she's right, don't you?" Brian slowly nodded, his eyes still closed. "Yeah, I know. I guess I just didn't want to admit it." Lucy nodded. "You know, you could probably present yourself as a decent-looking woman." She saw the protest start in Brian, and she cut it off. "I'm not kidding. You're a little smaller than average, so you would look like a tall woman. You're not overly muscular, either. And," she paused and bit her lip, "this may seem harsh, but you don't exactly have rugged movie star looks. With a little makeup and hair styling, you'd probably be an attractive woman." Brian stared at her, his face fixed in a pout, as he contemplated what she was saying. "I - I guess you're right," he finally admitted. "I might feel less - awkward - if I did present myself as a woman. Especially if I use that new Beard-Stop stuff." Lucy nodded, smiling. "And you don't have a huge Adams' apple. I think you'll find it easier to get along." She stood up. "Let me take a couple of hours, and I'll go find some clothes that _fit_. Okay?" Brian sighed in resignation. "Okay." Then he looked up sharply. "Nothing _too_ feminine, okay?" He watched Lucy retreat from the office. "Okay?" he called after her, knowing that while she'd heard him, she was choosing not to respond. He sighed, wondering just what she was planning. And then he had a thought that perhaps Linda had already talked to Lucy. He _knew_ that Linda had talked to Lucy. He felt doomed to whatever scheme they'd conjured up. ********** Linda looked up as she heard the door opening. "Hi, sweetie," she called pleasantly. "Have a good day?" Brian stormed in, his features clouded. "As if you didn't know," he said bitterly. Linda's eyes widened. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Just look at you!" Brian stopped, dropping his briefcase on the table. "Very funny. I'm not laughing, though." Linda sprang from the chair and walked over to him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "You look nice. And I bet it's a lot more comfortable." She took a step back. "Turn around." Still frowning, Brian turned slowly. He looked a _lot_ more comfortable - at least physically. Mentally and emotionally, he was not comfortable with the business suit and skirt that he now wore - that Lucy had picked out for him. Brian's rumpled jacket was replaced with a sporty - and feminine - waist-length gray plaid suit jacket, and he wore a matching skirt that hung just below his knees. His legs were quite obviously hairless beneath the tan hose he was wearing, and his plain black mens' shoes were replaced with gray pumps with bows. Beneath his jacket, he wore a satiny maroon blouse with a tiny bit of ruffling. "Take off the jacket," Linda asked politely. Unable to stay mad at his wife, Brian complied. He knew that if she _had_ been plotting with Lucy, it was because she was thinking of what was best for him. "Now, isn't that more comfortable around your rear?" she asked. Brian nodded, knowing that the lines of the skirt _were_ more comfortable, even though they seemed to show off his now round and feminine rear-end. "And the waist has an expansion panel, so you can wear that for some time as the baby grows," she said with delight. Already, his waist was showing some bulging from his pregnancy. His blouse didn't minimize the curves of his breasts, as he'd hoped. Instead, the darts seemed to emphasize them, adding to his overall feminine appearance, and the neckline plunged a little further than he'd wished. Despite his hopes to the contrary, Brian's breasts were large, and probably had a bit more growth to go, with the result that he was showing already generous cleavage. His stance, shoulders hunched forward, head bent down, was an obvious attempt to disguise his curves. "Stand up straight," Linda suggested. He did, and the curves on his chest stood out proudly, to his chagrin. Linda laughed. "You know, the doctors said you've probably got a cup size of growth left, and there's no way you're going to hide them. So you might as well get used to them. Brian glanced down at the valley between his boobs and shuddered visibly. "This is just - weird." Linda gave him a quick hug. "Nonsense. You're doing something very important and noble - and you look darling." Brian scowled. "I don't _want_ to look darling," he snapped back at her. At that moment, the back door opened, and Liz waddled in. "Hey, Linda," she sang out cheerfully. "How - Oh, I didn't know you had company." Then her eyes widened. "Brian?" she stammered. "Wow! Look at you! And that outfit is just adorable! I wish I had your figure!" Excited, she turned to Linda. "How'd you get him to do this?" Brian glared at Liz, then sank down into a chair at the Breeakfast nook. "Would you two just knock it off," he complained. "I don't want to look darling, or adorable, or." He stopped as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Just stop it!" Linda slipped into a chair beside Brian and wrapped her arm around him. "I'm sorry," she said comfortingly. "We didn't mean to make you cry." Liz nodded. "It's just such a surprise," she added. "And you _were_ complaining about how you looked." Brian dabbed at his eyes, and Liz and Linda saw that the tears were making mascara run. Their eyes widened as they realized just _how_ feminine Lucy had made him. Eye liner and some light eye shadow, a bit of rouge to highlight his cheeks and make his cheekbones look higher, and a bit of very light rose lipstick to accentuate his lips ever so slightly. Plus the mascara. And then Linda noted that he was also wearing clip-on earrings. "I supposed this was a lot for one day," Linda said. Brian nodded. "That's not the half of it. You know Lucy talked me into wearing panties? And the bra she got me - it's so - lacy." He shuddered. "But it's more comfortable, isn't it?" Brian sighed, then he nodded. "Yeah, she was right. And so were you. It's a lot more comfortable." Linda suppressed a smile. There was no sense in acting triumphant at having been proven right - not now, while Brian was nearly in shock at the makeover Lucy had done. "And?" Brian dabbed his eyes again. "And on the way home, people were treating me like I was a woman, not a weird pregnant half-man." Liz nodded, patting Brian's arm. "It'll take time, but you'll get comfortable with this. But you are going to have to watch what you eat now," she chided. "You don't want too much weight gain. Any pounds you put on are a lot harder to lose." Brian glanced at Liz, then at Linda, who nodded. "You look nice. It'd be a shame to spoil your figure." She glanced at Liz. "You know what this means we need to do." Liz smiled. "We've got to get a few more outfits for Brian." Linda grinned in agreement. "Shopping." She looked at Brian, whose jaw was hanging open. "You need more than one outfit," she said cheerfully. "And you need to experience the female joy of shopping!" ********** "Afternoon, Father." Father O'Donnell looked up from his desk at the interruption. "Good afternoon," he started, pausing momentarily in confusion, "Miss." His brow furrowed as he struggled to recognize his visitor. The visitor sighed. "Not Miss. Not permanently, anyway." The old priest frowned, then his eyes suddenly widened in shock. "Brian?" he asked in disbelief. Brian nodded, half-smiling. "Brianna. At least that's what I go by to minimize confusion." His voice was softer now, a feminine contralto. "May I sit down? As you can guess, standing in this condition is a bit uncomfortable." He patted his hands on his enormous belly. Father nodded, still in shock, and Brian eased himself into a chair opposite the priest's desk. "Holy mother of God," the priest said softly as he gawked at Brian. "You look like a pregnant woman!" Brian nodded, half smiling. "I _did_ tell you that I was going to go through with the procedure," he said defensively. "I know," Father O'Donnell stammered. "And I told you that this was intolerable messing with nature, and that you should stop taking the sacraments until we knew if it was permissible or not." He stared, wide-eyed, at the figure in the chair. "So I wasn't surprised to not see you at Mass. But this!" His astonishment was understandable. Brian was wearing a very stylish - and expensive - maternity dress, and looked to be ready to give birth at any moment. His hair was long, and pulled back in a neat feminine ponytail, showing off studs in his ear lobes and a dainty necklace, and above his swollen belly, the curves of large breasts were plainly visible. "You look like a woman," the priest sputtered again. "I've noticed," Brian said easily. "You know, not many men get pregnant." "But the dress?" Brian shrugged again. "They don't make maternity clothes in men's styles," he answered easily, a sign that he'd used that explanation frequently enough to be comfortable. "The skirt helps keep my legs cool. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to keep cool while pregnant in this weather." Father O'Donnell frowned. "And the hair? And.," he gestured with his hands in front of his chest, "the - breasts?" Brian sighed. "My _breasts_ grew from all the female hormones running through my blood. That's a side effect of having - female parts - and being pregnant. And having genes pre-disposed to largeness," he added with a laugh. "Good grief, Brian," the old priest blurted, "you talk about it like it's no big deal to have breasts! Woman's breasts! On a man!" Brian nodded slowly. "I've been through that more times than you can guess. It comes with the territory. If I'm going to help save a baby that would otherwise die, I have to make certain sacrifices." The old priest shook his head, his eyes still wide. "But - the dress? And the hair? And you're wearing a necklace?" He closed his eyes for a moment, as if to block out the unbelievable sight. "Heavens above, man, you're acting like, and dressing like, a woman! Your voice _sounds_ like a woman's! And calling yourself Brianna? A woman's name?" Brian sat silently for a few moments, letting his priest get past his astonishment. "Father, once I started growing breasts, and started to show, I looked like a freak. I had to do something. It was a lot easier to just look completely like a woman than to be in-between. Linda and Liz started calling me Brianna to help the disguise. They helped me practice to take the hard masculine edge off my voice, too." He sighed. "It's been hard." Father O'Donnell nodded. "I can only imagine," he muttered. "So what brings you here today?" Brian chuckled. "So are we just going to pretend that one of your parishioners doesn't look like a 9-month pregnant woman wearing a dress with big boobs? Like old times?" The old priest sighed. "If only it were that easy. You know, it's a bit difficult to ignore what you've done to yourself." Brian laughed aloud. "Tell me about it. I get reminded every time I use the restroom, or have to put on my bra, or have to pick out a dress. Linda won't let me rest if I don't have appropriate shoes, and she's really harsh if I don't ask before I borrow her jewelry." Father O'Donnell shook his head again. "That's just it, Brian," he said, exasperated, "or Brianna." He frowned. "You're acting like this is no big deal. But it _is_! You're messing with nature! Can't you hear yourself? You're talking about your body and clothing and habits as if being a woman was natural - and you're a man! You've taken a woman's name! You're wearing jewelry, and if I'm not mistaken, you're wearing pierced earrings." Brian recoiled as if struck. "But -" he started to say, then stopped, his mouth agape. He stared at Father O'Donnell, open-mouthed, for several awkward seconds. Finally, he leaned back in the chair, sighing. "Oh, my gosh," he said softly. "Am I becoming more a woman than a man?" Father O'Donnell watched him for a moment. "You're tinkering with things that man is not supposed to tinker with. You're confusing your own gender. I _warned_ you that this was dangerous." He sighed. Brian dropped his head a tiny bit, his eyes closed and his head shaking ever so slightly. After a few seconds, he looked up at the priest. "Any word yet?" Father O'Donnell shook his head. "No. And I'm not surprised, given the complexity of the issue. But I think you know what the answer will be." Brian nodded sadly. "They'll say it's against doctrine." "Very probably. And you know why. Loo