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The Second Coming of Man By Lana B. This story may not be re-posted without the permission of the author. *** PROLOGUE It was the year 2172 and the last man in the United States had just died. The end of the line for American males was hardly unforeseen. In point of fact, it was largely anticipated. Nevertheless, foreknowledge of the outcome did nothing to assuage the shock that ensued when the final death occurred. It was an indisputable fact that this catastrophic event was set in motion by a scourge that had its inception about a century-and-a-half earlier when, out of the blue, the birth of a male child became a fairly infrequent occurrence. Things quickly deteriorated from there, and by 2062, less than five percent of all new births in America were males. Scientists diligently studied the phenomenon and quickly uncovered its biological basis: the Y-chromosome determinative of male gender provided by the father spontaneously converted to an X-chromosome upon its entry into the mother's womb on nearly all occasions. Thus, when pregnancy resulted, the sex chromosome almost always had a pairing of XX, leading to a female fetus. Determining the cause of the anomaly was another kettle of fish. Opinions in the scientific community varied, but a common denominator loomed large in most theories: the environment. Many well-regarded experts assigned the cause of the aberration to genetic damage in males and females from absorption of ultraviolet light that had infiltrated the atmosphere due to a substantial erosion of the Earth's ozone layer. By most accounts, the failure of the Federal government to take effective action against global warming had exacted an unimaginable price. Other hypotheses ran the gamut from contamination of the food supply to the growing dispersal of airborne pollutants. And outside of the scientific community, there were the obligatory religious zealots who'd claimed that the blight represented God's punishment for mankind's grievous misdeeds. Whatever its precise cause, scientists were unable to find a cure for what came to be known as the Y-plague. Highly anticipated experimental treatments were piloted on thousands of men and women over the years, but they all failed to put an end to the genetic abnormality. By the year 2082, a male child hadn't been born in the United States in ten years. At the turn of the century in 2100, males comprised less than twenty percent of the population. In an attempt to keep a pending catastrophe at bay, Congress passed a law requiring that all healthy males eighteen years of age and older donate sperm on a monthly basis. Federally operated sperm banks were opened in many cities, towns and villages across the country. Additionally, a team of biologists was assembled at the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta to study ways to clone sperm or otherwise replicate its reproductive qualities. These scientists worked hand-in- hand with a task force headed by Dr. Lena Hollander, who'd been searching for a cure for the Y-plague for decades. Dr. Hollander was widely- regarded as the leading geneticist in the country, and she was allocated all of the funds, technology and human resources required to take on the task. By 2130, the percentage of males in the population had dwindled to less than five percent. Scientists were still struggling with a way to effectively replicate sperm, but sufficient "donations" had been made to sperm banks to ensure a constant population for at least a century. Government bureaucrats believed that the national population could be maintained at a steady 350 million people for the next hundred years by means of a functional plan for sperm dispersal. Then, in the absence of a cure for the Y-plague or the discovery of a sperm replication method, the population would drop by about three million people a year, the expected number of annual deaths. The gradual reduction of males to a nominal sum had a profound effect on the underpinnings of society. Out of necessity, females took jobs that were historically performed by men. It wasn't uncommon to see women working as construction laborers, truck drivers, cops, firefighters, car mechanics and airline pilots. The shortage of men had opened the door to significant employment opportunities for untold millions of females. Women also held all of the major political positions of power in the Federal government, and they effectively steered its operations. The last thirteen presidents had all been female and there were only a handful of men left in Congress. All nine justices of the Supreme Court were women. The political and judicial instrumentalities in all of the States were similarly commanded by females. In the domain of social relations, Congress passed a bill in 2142 legalizing same-sex marriages between women. In the absence of sufficient men, many women had lived together in civil unions for years. With the new legislation, they'd be legally entitled to the same rights and benefits as the participants of a traditional marriage. At a highly- publicized ceremony in the Rose Garden, the President was given an exuberant round of applause by over 300 guests upon signing the bill into law. Despite the considerable efforts of the nation's top geneticists, the Y- plague raged on, and by the year 2172, the human male had become extinct in America. In accordance with a presidential proclamation, the country sadly acknowledged the distressing milestone by flying flags at half- staff. In 2173, Congress passed legislation strictly regulating the dissemination of sperm stored at the Federal sperm banks. The law provided for a single insemination of a fertile woman between the ages of 18 and 25. Irrespective of the result, a second insemination was not permitted. Sperm had become a priceless commodity, necessitating its judicious distribution. As history had shown with other blights, maladies and contagions, the Y- plague couldn't be contained within the geographical boundaries of its origin and, tragically, it spread throughout the globe. Scientists estimated that within a century-and-a-half, the human male would vanish on a worldwide basis unless a cure for the affliction was found. What's more, in the absence of a sperm replication breakthrough, it would simply be a matter of time before the human female, and humanity, followed suit. Dr. Lena Hollander died in 2190 without finding a cure for the Y-plague. The search for a panacea continued, and her daughter, Dr. Marlene Hollander, assumed control of the CDC task force. Marlene Hollander was reputed to be as brilliant as her mother, and she vowed to leave no stone unturned in her quest to come up with a cure for the plague. Two years later, on March 9, 2192, a remarkable event in Indianapolis stunned the nation: a male child was born to a 22-year-old construction site manager. A week later, a 24-year-old sergeant detective in the New York City Police Department gave birth to a male child. And two weeks after that, a 21-year-old Amtrak conductor in Des Moines became the proud mother of a baby boy. In the ensuing weeks and months, the surprising trend continued. The numbers showed that approximately one of every seven new births was a boy. Women across the country were jubilant over the unexpected development, but they were also baffled. They turned to the scientific community for an explanation. The reasoned basis for the apparent miracle was provided by Dr. Marlene Hollander in a short piece published in the New England Journal of Medicine on September 14, 2192. She explained that the women who'd risen to political power over the past century had effectively removed the likely causes of the plague. Dr. Hollander pointed out that women had had nearly exclusive possession of Congress and the White House for the past hundred years, and they'd imposed stiff emissions guidelines on automobile makers, cattle ranchers, and other manufacturers that had contributed to the greenhouse effect, the dispersal of pollutants, and global warming in general. As a result, the ozone layer had been restored. Dr. Hollander also noted that Congress had quadrupled the budget for the Food and Drug Administration, and that for the first time in history, the country's food supply was certifiably free of contaminants. Within a matter of weeks, Congress addressed the various issues surrounding the resurrection of males. A unanimous consensus evolved on one aspect of the debate: the attribution of fault. Blame for the plague was squarely placed on the shoulders of the men who'd acted with reckless abandon when they'd held positions of power a century earlier. Despite clear warnings from the scientific community, they'd taken no effective action to stem the threats of global warming and pollution. Exemplifying this, in 2025, the United States had been the only industrialized nation in the world that had refused to endorse the Stockholm Protocol calling for a twenty percent reduction in greenhouse emissions over the following decade. The failure of American males to take action against the smoldering ecological fury had led to their own short-term extinction, and without the intervention of the females who'd succeeded them in the executive and legislative branches of the government, their gross negligence could have rendered humanity obsolete. Female political leaders in the United States had amassed an excellent track record over the past century. Life expectancy was on the rise, poverty had been all but eliminated, illicit drug use had been largely stamped out, and violent crime was nearly nonexistent. Significantly, disputes with other nations had been amicably resolved without resorting to aggression. America's female leaders had successfully governed the country, and they savored their ascendancy to positions of power. They were firmly resolved to maintain their effective grip on the reins of the government. What had been popularly dubbed the second coming of man gave rise to lively discussions in the halls of Congress and among the general population. Most women believed that males would one day look to regain their historically dominant role in society. Once their numbers increased to a significant degree, the argument went, males would strive to seize the reins of power in government and the corporate world. It might take decades to rebuild their numbers, but when the time arrived, they'd attempt to reclaim their lost leadership roles. It was agreed by an overwhelming majority of American women that males were, by their nature, a naturally aggressive breed that had always acted on their obtrusive instincts. Women across the country in all walks of life relished the new freedoms and privileges that had come to them in a society without men. They'd thrived in their ascent to satisfying, well-paying jobs that had been largely unavailable to them in the old social order. They feared losing all that they'd gained. It had taken no longer than a few weeks for a clear consensus to emerge among the populace: measures had to be swiftly taken to ensure against a recurrence of the plague. If males ever returned to power, most women believed, they could very well repeat their past mistakes. After all, if history had shown anything, it was that it had a way of repeating itself. Females spoke with a thundering voice against giving males a second opportunity to eradicate the human race. Invoking that sentiment, Congress quickly commissioned the Center for Disease Control to come up with an effective prophylactic plan to keep males in a subordinate position in the new social order. Two years later... Dr. Marlene Hollander entered the office of Kathy Rumson, President Wiggins' Science Advisor, and greeted her: "Good morning, Ms. Rumson." "Good morning to you, Dr. Hollander. Please have a seat. I've been told that you have some news for me." Dr. Hollander sat down in the upholstered armchair before Rumson's desk, and said, "Yes, I do. We've had a breakthrough. It's taken nearly two years, but we've finally hit pay dirt." "From what you're saying, I assume you've perfected a prophylaxis." "We have." "Excellent. Kindly give me the details?" "Certainly. The agent is administered before puberty begins, right around the boy's thirteenth birthday, by means of injection. It immediately prevents the development of masculine secondary sex characteristics such as coarse skin texture, facial and body hair, an Adam's apple, deepening of the voice, muscle buildup, and penile enlargement. The drug also arrests any further body growth while aging occurs. If the boy is five- three when it's given to him, then that's the height he'll be on the day he dies." "Hmm. Interesting." "I haven't gotten to the best part." "I'm all ears." "Within a matter of weeks, the boy will begin to take on the whole array of female secondary sex characteristics." "Are you serious?" "Totally." "Please continue." Dr. Hollander nodded, and said, "The boy's skin will soften. His voice will take on a higher pitch. Subcutaneous fat deposits will develop around the buttocks, thighs and hips. Breast growth will ensue. Existing body hair will become fine and lustrous. Facial features will soften." "Amazing. What about the genitals?" "Here's where you need to brace yourself, Ms. Rumson. The testicles will retract into the lower abdomen and become dormant, except for a three day period every month when they'll produce estrogen and progesterone that will be disseminated throughout the body via the blood supply. Any excess female hormones will drain from the penis, in essence resulting in a 'male period' each month." Rumson creased her brow and slightly dropped her jaw. It was beyond belief, and from the look on the doctor's face, there was still more to come. "What else, doctor?" she asked. "The scrotal sac will shrivel and hug the groin. The penis, however, will remain intact, which means it'll be pretty small since we're talking about a thirteen-year-old boy here." A slight smirk took shape on Dr. Hollander's mouth. "What about sperm production?" "We've come up with an agent in pill form that can temporarily stimulate the boy's adrenal gland to produce a small amount of testosterone and sperm for a one-hour period. During that window, an erection is attainable." "And impregnation is possible?" "Yes, but only during the one-hour window. The testosterone and sperm are discharged from the boy during ejaculation. If ejaculation doesn't occur, then they're secreted during the boy's first urination following ingestion of the agent. What remains in his body is the natural estrogen and progesterone produced by the reformatted testicles, which, in essence, are akin to ovaries to the extent that they produce female hormones rather than testosterone and sperm." "Incredible. Simply incredible." "We've tested the drug extensively. We've tried it on a dozen boys, and it works just the way I've described it." "From what you're saying, doctor, it appears you've come up with something that turns a young man into a modified female. Or perhaps a better description might be that of a male/female hybrid." "I wouldn't argue with those depictions, Ms. Rumson. You might even characterize it as a third sex. In any case, with the young man's new appearance, we generally can expect docile and deferential behavior. Studies have universally shown that a male's aggressive conduct is a direct corollary of his larger size and superior strength. But now, with rare exception, he'll be significantly smaller and weaker than a female. What's more, his body won't produce and retain testosterone, the hormone that's been widely-regarded as the primary cause of aggressiveness in males. For the most part, this 'new male' we've created isn't someone who'll be looking to assume control of anything. On the contrary, he'll be someone who relies on the existing social system to provide for his needs and keep him safe from harm. He should be a compliant and well- behaved citizen." "How on earth did you do it, doctor?" "Basically, through the hard work of a topnotch task force and a whole lot of trial and error. The serum's comprised of a cornucopia of elements and substances including biological and synthetic hormones, stem cells, growth inhibitors, chemical compounds, and replicated chromosomes. I'm not stretching the truth when I say that we tried over three hundred million combinations before we came across the right mix." Dr. Hollander knew that Kathy Rumson had no background in genetic medicine, so she'd tried to keep her explanation as simple as possible. Rumson smiled so hard that a few of her teeth tingled. "Whatever it's made of, doctor, it's exactly what we're looking for. Let me be the first to congratulate you on a job well- done." *** President Dawn Wiggins stared at the legislative bill on her grand mahogany desk for a brief moment. She then raised her head and made eye contact with Jane Haskins, her Chief of Staff. "I suppose you think that I should sign this bill too, Jane, like just about everyone else on Capital Hill?" she asked. Haskins knew that the President had no real choice in the matter. Vetoing the bill would be tantamount to committing political suicide. It also would be ineffectual, since Congress easily had the votes to override a veto. She answered, "Yes, I do, Dawn." She and the President were buddies who went back a long way, and when no one else was present, she took the liberty of using her old friend's first name. "Would you care to give me your reasons, Jane? I think I know what they are, but I'd like to hear them just the same. I need to be convinced by someone I fully trust." Haskins knew that her old friend's faith in her was well-placed. She'd been Dawn's principal political advisor for over thirty years, and she'd been her campaign manager when she finally captured the White House on her second attempt in 2190. She'd always admired Dawn's political convictions, compassion and integrity. She said, "Well, to begin with, the bill was passed by overwhelming majorities in both Chambers of Congress. I believe the numbers were ninety-two percent in the Senate, and ninety-four percent in the House of Representatives. The constitutional amendment permitting its enforcement also passed by wide margins in the Congress and the State legislatures. What's more, the public opinion polls show that over ninety-five percent of the population backs the bill." The President nodded. "I know there's overwhelming support for the bill, Jane, but making it into an enforceable law is a serious step. The people it affects had no say in it. And it affects an entire gender. There's a moral issue to consider here." "Well, there's certainly no shortage of sound moral arguments in favor of signing the bill into law, Dawn. If men ever returned to power, they could put us all in jeopardy by repeating the same stupid mistakes that nearly annihilated everyone when they were originally in control of things," Haskins noted. She paused for dramatic effect, and continued, "Without this law, there could be dire consequences. Maybe not today or in twenty years, but fifty years from now, women could lose everything they've gained. Everything they've worked so hard for. And all the good work they've achieved could hang by a thread. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, Dawn, without this law, the survival of the human race could be at stake," Haskins warned. The President nodded again, and said, "As always, Jane, I appreciate your wise counsel." Jane Haskins knew her friend well enough to recognize that that was her cue to leave. Dawn wanted to be alone with her thoughts before signing the bill. She arose from the armchair, and said, "If you need me, Dawn, just give me a call. You know where to find me." President Wiggins watched her old friend leave the Oval Office. She then picked up the bill and gazed at it. She read its clear and direct title: "The Preservation Act: A Law to Prevent a Recurrence of the Y-Plague." The bill's primary provision authorized use of the evocation process on the nation's males. She turned to the last page and stared at the signature line. She knew what she had to do. With a somber expression and a heavy heart, President Wiggins picked up her pen and signed the bill into law. She immediately realized that this simple act would largely make up her legacy, and she wondered how history would judge her for it. Fifty years later... Pat Warner took a seat in the reception area of Dr. Walton's office. He looked up at his 12-year old son, and said, "Sit down, Jesse. I don't want you to put any unnecessary weight on your foot." An hour earlier, Jesse had stepped on a rusty nail that'd gone through his sneaker and pierced the sole of his foot. Before Jesse could take a seat, the pretty redhead at the receptionist's desk announced, "Dr. Walton will see your son now, Mr. Warner." Pat stood up and took Jesse's hand in his. He led him past the reception desk and into the rear of the office, where the examination rooms were located. He was met by a petite doctor's assistant in a knee-length white cotton skirt and matching blouse, who guided them into one of the rooms. "Dr. Walton will be with you in a moment," he advised. A few minutes later, Dr. Walton entered the examination room. She said, "Good morning, Mr. Warner." She glanced at the clipboard in her hand. "I see from the questionnaire you've completed that your son's stepped on a nail." She gazed at the boy, and asked, "Is that right, Jesse?" Jesse nervously looked up at the doctor, and answered, "That's right, Dr. Walton." "Well, let's have a look at it, then." Dr. Walton reached down and lifted Jesse onto the examination table. She then removed his sneaker and sock and examined his foot. She said, "Well, the wound is fairly superficial, but we'll give you a tetanus shot just to be on the safe side." Dr. Walton retrieved a hypodermic from the aluminum cabinet a few feet away, loaded it, and administered the shot to Jesse. She then turned to the boy's father, and asked, "May I see you in the hall for a moment?" Pat looked up at the doctor, and said, "Certainly." They exited the room and Dr. Walton closed the door. "How old is your son, Mr. Warner?" she asked. "He's twelve. He'll be thirteen next month." "When do you plan on having him evoked?" "Actually, I was going to make an appointment to bring him back for that in a month or so." "Would you like to take care of it now?" "Doesn't he have to be thirteen?" "There's a swing period that runs from the third month before the thirteenth birthday through the third month after it." "Oh, I didn't know that. Well, I guess it'd be convenient to do it now. I mean, we're already here." They returned to the examination room to see Jesse staring at the mark on his left upper arm where he'd received the tetanus shot. Dr. Walton said, "I'd like to weigh and measure you, Jesse. Would you please come with me?" Jesse wondered why the doctor wanted to weigh him. He shrugged and hopped off of the table. He followed Dr. Walton to the rear corner of the room and stepped onto the scale. Dr. Walton calibrated the machine and pushed the small green button. She waited a moment and read the digital display. She then turned to Jesse's father, and said, "He's five-two and a hundred-and-six pounds. That's a tad small for his age, but nothing out of the realm of normality." Jesse watched his father nod at the comment. He wondered what was going on. Before he could give it any further thought, he heard Dr. Walton tell him, "I'm going to give you another injection while you're here, Jesse." That didn't please him at all, and Jesse asked, "What for, Dr. Walton?" "I'll tell you when we get home, Jesse," his father interjected. Jesse observed the hypodermic that Dr. Walton held in her hand. It was much larger than the previous one. He feared it might damage his shoulder. Dr. Walton squirted a thin stream of fluid out of the needle, and said, "This one goes in your behind, Jesse. Please lower your pants." *** Pat Warner was seated on the edge of the bed. He looked down at his son. Jesse had gone to sleep as soon as they'd returned home from the doctor's office yesterday afternoon, and he'd been asleep for sixteen hours. Pat wasn't concerned, though. He recalled that he'd slept for nearly a day after he received his evocation shot. It was hard to believe that more than eighteen years had passed since then. Pat sensed movement. He looked at the foot of the bed and observed Jesse's wiggling toes. He looked back up at his son's face and watched him yawn. A moment later, Jesse opened his eyes, and Pat said, "Good morning, son." "Hi, Dad." Jesse noticed that his muscles ached. "I feel stiff," he told his father. "That's just a minor side-effect of the evocation shot, son." "The what?" "The evocation shot. That was the second shot that the doctor gave you, Jesse. The one in your rear end. Remember?" "Oh, yeah. Because I stepped on that nail." "Actually, the first shot took care of that. The second shot was given to you for a different reason." "A different reason?" "That's right. The evocation shot is given to all thirteen-year-old boys to stimulate puberty." "What's that?" "Puberty is the process that you go through to become a man, Jesse. It's the changes that occur in your body as you grow from a boy into a man." "Did you go through puberty, Dad?" "All males go through it, son." "Will I look like you when I grow into a man, Dad?" "Well, not exactly. All men have their own distinct physical appearance, Jesse." "I mean, will I be pretty like you, Dad?" Pat was flattered that his son thought he was pretty. He said, "I'm sure you'll be pretty, Jesse. Looks are an important thing, you know." "Why?" "Well, because they'll help you attract a good woman who'll love you and provide for you, Jesse." "You mean like Mom?" "Exactly." That comment made Pat think of Alex. He knew that he was a lucky man to have snared such a good wife. She loved her family with all of her heart, and she took care of all their needs. Alex had a secure and well-paying job as a high-level manager at the Department of Homeland Welfare that allowed the Warners to enjoy a comfortable lifestyle. For the past eight years, they'd lived in a spacious ten-room split-level house in Rockville Centre, a lovely Long Island suburban community about twenty miles from Manhattan. Pat's thoughts returned to the present moment, and he said, "Okay, Jesse, it's time to get out of bed. I'm going downstairs to make some spaghetti. In the meantime, I want you to take a shower and get dressed. By the time you get downstairs, lunch should be ready." "Okay, Dad." Jesse was hungry, and he looked forward to having lunch. Spaghetti was one of his favorites, and his father was such a good cook. Pat smiled. He bent down and kissed Jesse on the forehead. He said, "Oh my goodness. Look what I've done." Pat reached into his purse and found a fresh tissue, and then he wiped the lipstick smudge off of his son's forehead. Nine months later... It was Sunday morning and Jesse was nervous. One of his mother's co- workers was getting married today, and his family had been invited to the wedding. Last night, his father had told him that he'd have to wear something nice. Jesse anxiously wondered what it would be. Since having his evocation injection nine months earlier, a number of discernible changes had taken place in Jesse's body. He'd grown a small set of breasts. His testicles had vanished and his empty sac had withered and withdrawn onto his groin. His waistline had narrowed a bit and his hips and rear end had broadened. His skin had softened and his face had taken on a gentle and delicate appearance. His voice had gotten a little higher, too. Many of the changes had been subtle and gradual in the making, but they were clearly noticeable. Jesse had been embarrassed by the changes. He tried to ignore them, but he knew they were there. He also tried to hide them as best as he could. Thankfully, the baggy pants and shirts that he wore covered up a lot of the changes. His clothes didn't fit him as well as they used to, but he didn't care as long as they concealed the embarrassing alterations in his body. He'd also become a little intimidated by the girls at school. They seemed to be getting bigger and stronger all the time while he stayed the same size. When he played with them in the schoolyard, he noticed that their athletic skills had improved while his remained the same or possibly even declined. It had made him feel foolish, and for the past month or so, he'd played only with other boys. Fran, his 15-year-old sister, was bigger and stronger than he was, too. Before he had his shot, they were about the same size and he was a little stronger than her. But now, Fran was an inch taller and ten pounds heavier than he was. In the past two months, she'd used her superior size and strength to her advantage several times. Just yesterday, she pulled him out of the bathroom even though he'd gotten there first. Jesse showered and slipped into his flannel bathrobe. He looked at himself in the dresser's mirror. He could easily see the changes in his face. It had a soft and smooth look to it. And his wavy brown hair now fell onto his shoulder tops. His father hadn't taken him to the barber for a haircut since his evocation shot. He heard footsteps and turned his head to see his father standing in the doorway. He looked very pretty in the black evening gown and high heels. He held a large white box in his hands. "What's that, Dad?" Jesse anxiously asked him. "It's your outfit for the wedding." "My... outfit?" Jesse felt a lump in his throat. He couldn't have swallowed if his life had depended on it. "That's right." Pat walked to the bed, placed the box on it, and opened the lid. Jesse peeked into the box and saw the pink dress. It was exactly what he'd been afraid of. "I have to wear that?" he asked in a quavering voice. "Yes, you do, Jesse." "Can't I just wear a suit, Dad, like Fran?" "I'm afraid not, son. This is a formal occasion, and all the young boys will be wearing dresses." Pat saw that he was about to protest, and he wagged his forefinger at him. "Not another word, Jesse. This isn't negotiable. Take off your bathrobe so we can get you dressed." Jesse considered that the situation was deteriorating by the minute. Not only did he have to wear a dress, now he had to bare himself to his father. Pat easily noticed his son's reluctance to disrobe. He told him, "Don't be embarrassed by your body, son. You have the same things that I have. There's nothing to be ashamed of." Jesse looked down at the floor, and quietly said, "Alright, Dad." He slipped out of the bathrobe and avoided looking at his father. Despite what he'd been told, he was embarrassed standing there in front of his Dad with no clothes on. Pat scrutinized his son's body. He was pleased. Jesse's breasts and figure were developing nicely. Pat saw that his thin penis, unaccompanied by anything other than some lustrous pubic hair, appeared to be no more than about two inches long. He looked back up at his son's breasts. Jesse realized that his father was examining the changes that'd taken place in his body. He wanted to crawl under the bed and die. He looked down to avert his eyes, and his humiliation immediately transformed into shock when he saw two droplets of blood fall from his penis. "Oh my God... " "What's wrong, Jesse?" "I'm... bleeding." Pat tracked his son's startled gaze and glanced at Jesse's penis. He saw the driblets of blood and smiled. "Don't worry, Jesse. You're just having your first push." "My... push? What's that?" The anxiety in his tone was evident. "That's when you discharge the excess hormones that your body produces each month, Jesse. You'll have a push once a month and it'll last for about three days. You may also have some minor side-effects, like a little cramping, irritability, swelling in the breasts, and possibly some nausea." Jesse felt tears developing in his eyes. "But I don't want to have this happen to me every month, Dad." He looked down just in time to see another drop of blood escape from his penis and fall to the floor. He was scared. "I'm afraid you don't have any choice, son. But don't look at it as an inconvenience. It's simply nature's way of letting you shed excess hormones. And it's actually quite symbolic, too. It signifies your attainment of manhood, Jesse. Congratulations are in order, son." Jesse didn't feel like he'd done anything worthy of congratulations. On the contrary, he felt ashamed of himself. Pat reached into his purse and came away with a small white plastic package. He opened it and removed an even smaller piece of pink cloth. He manipulated the cloth to reveal that it was actually a plush pouch with a string on the open end. He said, "This is a sanitary hood, Jesse. You wear it when you have your monthly push. It absorbs the fluid that your body discharges." Pat then approached his son and slipped the hood over his penis, securing it in place by making a bowtie with the string. "There you go, Jesse. You're all set. Just change it as necessary until your push is over." Jesse looked down and shook his head. "It looks so stupid, Dad. And it's a little uncomfortable, too." "You'll get used to it, Jesse. All of us boys do. And think about it. What's the alternative? Would you rather bleed all over the floor?" "Well, when you put it that way, I guess not." "Exactly." That reminded Pat about the wet stains on the floor, and he fetched some tissue from the bathroom and brushed the red spots away. After he discarded the soiled tissue, he told his son, "I'll bring you a few dozen hoods as soon as we're finished here." Pat then turned away from Jesse and reached into the large white box. He came away with a pair of pink cotton panties that he offered to his son: "Put these on, Jesse. It's underwear, just like your briefs." Jesse slipped into the panties. He was relieved to have finally covered his groin. He looked at his father, who was rummaging in the box again. Pat found the pink training bra, and he helped his son get into it. He said, "Doesn't that feel better, Jesse? It prevents your breasts from swinging around. Take a few steps and see for yourself." Jesse walked to the corner of the room and returned. He discovered that the bra stopped his small breasts from flapping, which he'd found annoying. "You're right, Dad," he conceded. "It'll add some shape to your figure, too. Okay, let's get you into these stockings." Pat knew that his son was a little young for nylons, but he was attending a formal wedding, which made it acceptable. He said, "Now pay attention, son, so you'll learn how to put on pantyhose." Jesse watched his father roll the stockings up his legs and hoist them onto his waist. He gazed down at his legs and saw that the nylons gave them a smooth and graceful appearance. They felt pretty nice, too. Pat reached into the box and retrieved the coup de grace. It was a soft pink satin dress with a sleeveless bodice, a beaded waistline, and a layered ruffle skirt. He said, "Alright, Jesse, let's see how you look in this dress." Jesse's heart raced as he viewed the dress. "Do I really have to wear that, Dad? Why can't I just wear a suit, like Fran? Can't I wear a suit? Please?" "I'm sorry, son. Like I already told you, this is what young boys wear to formal occasions. You'll get used to it. It's not so bad." Pat recalled his first dress. He'd worn it at his sister's baptism. It had been an embarrassing moment for him, too. He saw that his son's face was red. He said, "Lift your arms, Jesse." Jesse reluctantly complied, and his father pulled the dress onto him and raised the rear zipper. Pat went back to the box and retrieved the matching peep-toed leather dress pumps with two-inch covered heels. He slipped them onto his son's feet. "These shoes will make you look taller, Jesse, and they'll make you walk like a proper young gentleman." Jesse had never been so embarrassed in his life. And just when he thought that things couldn't get any worse, he watched his father remove a tube of pink lipstick from his purse. 'Oh no!' Jesse frantically thought. Pat knew that his son was too young for makeup, but the occasion justified a touch of lipstick. He pulled off the cap and approached him. "Do I have to wear lipstick, Dad? Can't we just forget about that?" Jesse pleaded. "I'll just put on a thin coat. It'll make you look nice. You'll see. Stand still." Pat carefully ran the lipstick over his son's lips, and then he brushed his hair. He stood back and took it all in. He smiled. Jesse looked so pretty that Pat nearly cried. Jesse, on the other hand, was embarrassed beyond belief. His heart raced inside his chest. He wanted to run into his closet and shut the door. Pat grasped his son's hand. He said, "Let's go to the kitchen. Your mother and sister are waiting for us there." "Do I have to, Dad?" "Yes. Don't be embarrassed, son. You look very nice." With Jesse's hand clasped in his, Pat walked toward the door. In the kitchen, Alex Warner and her daughter, Fran, sat at the table and sipped black coffee from ceramic mugs. They were both smartly attired in navy blue pinstriped suits, white shirts, and black leather loafers. Their sartorial symmetry was distinguished only by their ties: Alex's was red while Fran's was royal blue. The sound of approaching footsteps made them turn their heads toward the kitchen's entranceway. Pat entered the kitchen with his son in tow. He smiled, and said, "Look at Jesse. Doesn't he look nice?" "My, my, aren't you the pretty one, Jesse," Alex concurred. Fran laughed, and said, "You look like such a boy." She laughed again. Alex glared at her daughter. "Now you stop that right now, Fran. Be nice to your brother. It's his first time in a dress. Show a little consideration." "Alright, I'm sorry. You look nice, Jesse. Really, you do," Fran stated. Jesse observed the smirk on Fran's face. He also saw that they were all examining him. He wanted to coil himself into a ball and roll far, far away. *** On November 4, 2244, Gail Barnes, a member of the ultra-conservative red- wing faction of the Republican Party, captured the presidency in a landslide victory over her moderate Democratic opponent. President-elect Barnes' coattails had been long, and she'd swept a majority of red- wingers into both Chambers of Congress. The country had taken a sharp turn to the right. The new conservatives now at the helm of the Federal government viewed the fallibility of males with an even greater intolerance than their predecessors. Males comprised nearly a third of the population, and red- wingers clamored for restrictive amendments to The Preservation Act to ensure that boys were limited to a role in society ancillary to females. While conceding the general effectiveness of the evocation process in confining males to a subordinate position in the social order, the red- wingers nonetheless maintained that additional measures were needed as a surefire hedge against their growing numbers. Males now comprised forty-one percent of all new births, which made a lot of women nervous. In the elections, the red-wingers took advantage of the voters' growing unease, and it gave them control of the government. In their vociferous call for new restrictions, the conservatives were quick to remind the populace that males had once nearly eradicated mankind. This rhetoric elated their base constituency and was convincing enough to win over many new adherents. The following year saw the enactment of a series of amendments to The Preservation Act. Males were denied the right to possess real property. They could operate a motor vehicle only within the geographical boundaries of their county of residence. They could apply for a loan or a credit or debit card only if the application was co-signed by a female. Their opportunity for educational advancement was limited to an undergraduate college degree. They were prohibited from purchasing any beverage containing alcohol. And they were banned from running for political office and voting in local, State and Federal elections. The suppressive actions taken by the Federal government against American males were unique. Men in other countries were viewed as innocent victims of the Y-plague to the same extent as women. International blame for the biological disaster had been exclusively placed on the doorstep of the men who'd governed and directed America two centuries earlier. And for that precise reason, the evocation process imposed on American males hadn't precipitated a worldwide outcry of criticism. Similarly, the new legal restrictions appended to The Preservation Act caused nothing more than an indifferent shrug throughout the world. Foreign political leaders and the people they governed were perfectly willing to give the American government the unfettered latitude to do whatever was necessary to prevent a recurrence of the Y-plague. Indeed, most foreign governments also viewed American males with caution and distrust, as evidenced by their refusal to grant them entrance visas. *** The world had been at relative peace since women had assumed the reins of leadership in America. However, the nation's political leaders were fully cognizant of the need to maintain a strong military presence. Out of necessity, the Armed Forces of the United States had been exclusively commanded and composed of females for more than a century. Although women took great pride in holding jobs and carrying out tasks that had been historically performed by males, they were skeptical of the military's ability to measure up against foreign armies that were mostly comprised of original men. American history had proven that females were superior political leaders, but many women conceded that unaltered males made better soldiers based upon their typically superior size, strength and agility. And although general peace had prevailed for quite some time, there were several hotspots around the globe where American interests were at potential risk. In early 2245, The Democratic minority in Congress introduced a bill to exempt qualified males from the evocation process for the purpose of assembling a first-rate standing army made up of unaltered men. However, the red-wingers would have none of that. While agreeing in principle to the necessity of producing a military capability that was second to none, they variously characterized the Democrats' proposal as na?ve, short- sighted and dangerous. On March 15, 2245, the Republican members of Congress held a caucus at Independence Hall in Philadelphia. By the end of the second day, a proposal emerged that was unanimously endorsed by the attendees. The Center for Disease Control was asked to come to the rescue yet again, this time by formulating a treatment to enhance a female's physical capabilities to a level that matched or exceeded those of an unaltered male. Once more, Dr. Marlene Hollander, now 81-years-old but in good health and sound mind, answered the bell. In six-month's-time, she devised a drug that accomplished the desired result. *** Dr. Hollander nervously sat on a comfortable chair in the small room just outside of the Oval Office. She waited to be seen by President Barnes. She'd been summoned to the President's office by a personal courier the previous evening. The written notice had simply stated, "Your presence is required tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m. in the White House." The summons had been signed by President Barnes. Dr. Hollander glanced at her wristwatch and saw that it was 10:05. She looked up at the young brunette behind the desk near the door to the Oval Office and watched him work on his computer. She observed that he wore a powder-blue cotton skirt with a matching jacket, a white silk blouse, and slate-blue leather pumps with three-inch heels. His legs were rather attractive in nylons. His makeup had been impeccably applied and he had long lavender nails. He was a very pretty boy. Dr. Hollander thought of the evocation serum she'd developed fifty years earlier and a sense of pride filled her to capacity. The secretary's phone rang and he lifted the receiver. He said, "Yes, Madame President," and turned to Dr. Hollander. "The President will see you, now," he advised her and sweetly smiled. Marlene stood up and walked toward the door to the Oval Office. The secretary arose, too, and opened the door for her. Marlene entered the room and saw President Barnes sitting behind a huge mahogany desk. She approached her, and said, "It's an honor to meet you, President Barnes." The President stood up and extended her arm across the desk. She said, "The honor is all mine, Dr. Hollander. The country is in your debt. Your fine work, and that of your mother's, has allowed us to salvage this great nation of ours." Marlene stepped up to the front of the desk, and said, "Thank you, Madame President." She extended her arm and they exchanged a warm handshake. Marlene noted that the President was bigger in person than she'd appeared on the vid. She had to be at least five-ten, and she was smartly attired in a tailored gray wool three-piece suit with a white cotton shirt and a bright red silk tie. Her jet-black hair was rather short and it was combed straight back. She was a rather handsome woman. "Please have a seat, Dr. Hollander." The President gestured at the red leather armchair in front of her desk. Marlene sat down and the President followed suit. President Barnes observed that the doctor was modestly dressed in an off-the-rack royal-blue suit and a yellow checkered tie. Her short gray hair gave her a distinguished look. "You're probably wondering why I've summoned you here, Dr. Hollander," she said. "The thought has crossed my mind, President Barnes." "I wanted to discuss this new drug of yours. I've read the reports, but I need to hear it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak, before I authorize its use, if you know what I mean." "Of course." "Well, is it everything it's cracked up to be?" "I believe that it is." "Good. Give me the rundown. I don't have a background in science or medicine, so I'd appreciate it if you avoided the medical technicalities. I'm a lawyer by trade, if you haven't heard." "Yes, I've read that in the papers." Marlene paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, and said, "The new drug is essentially the other side of the coin to the evocation serum that I developed fifty years ago. Similar to that compound, this one confers onto the female subject the prime physical attributes of the opposite sex." A thought occurred to her, and she corrected, "The unaltered opposite sex, I should say." Marlene continued, "Within a month after the drug is taken, she'll begin to take on the secondary sex characteristics of an original biological male. There'll be a deepening of the voice, coarsening of the skin, body hair growth, and muscle mass development. Breasts will greatly diminish in size, and in some cases may fade away altogether. A height increase and a weight gain will occur, as well." "To what extent, doctor?" "An average of four inches in height and thirty pounds in weight can be expected, especially if the compound is taken before the subject's normal growth cycle ends, Madame President. After the subject's twenty-first birthday, more modest gains will occur, perhaps by about half." "What about the drug's effect on the woman's reproductive capacity?" President Barnes asked. "The subject will continue to ovulate every month, and she can be impregnated by a properly prepared male. Unlike the evocation serum, this drug doesn't suppress the body from producing its natural hormones, which will not, however, affect the bodily changes precipitated by the drug. Those changes are irrevocable." The President nodded, and asked, "What's this stuff made of, doctor?" "Mostly growth hormones, steroids and stem cells, synthetic as well as biological in nature. And I'm happy to say that there won't be any adverse side-effects. Our trials have revealed no damage to the liver, kidneys or other organs. We've come a long way in that regard." "The report states that the new compound won't work on altered males. Why is that, doctor?" "Without getting too technical, Madame President, I developed the evocation serum to have a permanent outcome. Its effects are irreversible." The President nodded her understanding, and said, "You know, the mandate to develop this concoction was based on a desire to increase the effectiveness of our female fighting forces. Contrary to the ill-advised proposals made by the liberals in Congress, we have no intention of using unaltered males in the army. If history has taught us anything at all, doctor, it's that males serve only two purposes in life: as sex objects and sperm donors." The President chuckled at her own joke, and continued, "I think I know what the answer to my next question is, doctor, but I have to ask it anyway. Will this drug make our female soldiers as tough as the male soldiers in foreign armies?" Without hesitation, Dr. Hollander replied, "Absolutely. The compound will result in a bigger, stronger and more agile woman who'll be no less aggressive than an unaltered male. She'll be as tough as nails, Madame President." "That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Dr. Hollander. I'll issue an executive order first thing tomorrow morning authorizing its use. Once again, on behalf of our country, I want to extend my gratitude to you." Marlene sensed that the end of the conference was near. She'd planned on taking personal advantage of her meeting with the President, and she knew that the time to strike had arrived. She reached into her shirt pocket and came away with a small color photograph of her son. She made eye contact with the President, and asked, "Were you aware that I have a son, President Barnes?" "I can't say that I knew that, Dr. Hollander." "His name is Bobby." She offered the picture to the President. President Barnes took the photo and gazed at it. She saw that the doctor's son was a gorgeous boy. He had long golden hair that cascaded onto his shoulders in soft waves, crowning classically beautiful facial features. The bottom of the photo ended just below a pair of generous breasts that pushed out against a tight-fitting beige cashmere sweater. He was stunningly beautiful. The President said, "Your son is very pretty, Dr. Hollander." "Thank you." "Is he married?" "No. He lives with me. We sort of take care of each other. My husband died shortly after he was born. He had breast cancer." President Barnes easily detected the sadness in Dr. Hollander's tone. It was obvious she'd loved her husband very much. "Your son sounds like a very devoted child. Did you say his name's Bobby?" "Yes. He works with me at the CDC." "What does he do?" "Technically, he's on the books as my secretary, but he does so much more than that. He has a wonderful medical mind and helps me with my experiments." "Well, that doesn't surprise me at all considering his lineage." "Actually, Bobby was a pre-med student at Harvard who graduated near the top of his class. He took a few years off from school to work and save a little money, and then he applied for admission to several medical schools. I believe that he was on the verge of being accepted at Georgetown, and then those amendments to The Preservation Act were passed earlier this year. Under the new law, now, he's limited to an undergraduate college degree." "Hmm, yes, I seem to recall that restriction." The President was being coy, inasmuch as she and her political cronies had led the charge for all of the new restrictions. "How old is Bobby, doctor?" she asked. Marlene noted that the President, who was unmarried, hadn't lifted her gaze from the photograph during the entire conversation. "He's twenty- nine. He'll be thirty in three months. I was wondering if you might be able to help him out, Madame President." "How so?" President Barnes finally placed the photo on her desk and made eye contact with Dr. Hollander. "Well, I'm not a lawyer or anything, but maybe he can be granted an exception to attend medical school? He's interested in genetic medicine, and if you ask me, I'd say he'd be better at it than I am. Or, for that matter, better than my mother was. I'm eighty-one years old, President Barnes. I'd like to see my work continue through my family." "You have no daughters?" "Bobby's an only-child. I wasn't able to have any more children. I married late in life and was very fortunate to have conceived Bobby." President Barnes silently considered the request. She believed that she had the authority to grant an exception to the law's prohibition on national security grounds, but she'd have to run it through her counsel's office to be certain. "I'm not sure that I have the authority to do as you ask, doctor. I'd have to look into it." "Would you, Madame President?" Dr. Hollander's tone had a pleading edge to it. President Barnes artfully smiled. She said, "Considering everything that you and your mother have done for this country, I'd hate to think of a time when there'd be no Dr. Hollander to turn to during a crisis. I'll consider your request. But before I do, I have a request for you." "Certainly. What is it, President Barnes?" "I'd like to meet your son. I want to personally judge his character before I proceed any further with this." "By all means." She watched the President stand up, signaling an end to the meeting. Marlene arose and reached for the photo on the desk. "Oh, one more thing, Dr. Hollander. Do you mind if I keep that photograph?" "Of course not." *** Jesse rested on his bed with his back propped up against the headboard. He watched a romance movie on the vid-display, but quickly lost interest in it. Jesse deactivated the vid and went to the kitchen, where he saw his father sitting at the table working on his nails. Jesse sat down across from him, and said, "I'm bored, Dad. Why couldn't Mom take us to the ball game? She took Fran. Why does Fran catch all the breaks? Mom knew that I wanted to go to the game." Jesse's mother and sister had left to see the Yankees play the Red Sox at Yankee Stadium a few hours earlier. Pat finished applying the bright red polish to his nails and screwed the applicator onto the small bottle. He carefully placed his palms on the table and looked up at his son. He said, "Fran's not getting preferential treatment, Jesse. Mom loves you just as much as she loves Fran. She's just bonding with her. That's what mothers and daughters do. They go to sporting events together. They go to car shows and technology fairs, too. It's the way they bond, son." "Oh. Well, it doesn't seem fair, Dad." Pat glanced at his hands. He saw that the nail polish still appeared wet. He looked back up at his son. "You know, Jesse, fathers and sons have ways of bonding, too." "Like what, Dad?" "Well, they go shopping together. They go to art shows. They go to fashion shows, too." Pat had previously suggested sharing those activities with Jesse, but he hadn't been interested. "All that stuff seems so boring, Dad. I'd rather go to a ball game." "It's not boring, Jesse. It's what boys do. You should give it a try. Maybe you'll find that you like it." "I'm not so sure, Dad." "Don't you want to bond with me, son?" Jesse didn't want to hurt his father's feelings. He said, "Well, sure I do." "Then let's start now." "What do you mean?" "Why don't you give me your hands? I'll do your nails." Jesse ignored the request, and Pat said, "Look at my hands, Jesse. Don't you think they look nice?" Jesse gazed at his father's hands. He had to admit that they looked quite attractive with the long red nails. Pat urged his son on: "C'mon, Jesse. It'll be fun. Please?" Pat protruded his lips into a mocked pout. Jesse couldn't help but chortle at the funny look on his father's face, and he said, "Well, okay, I guess." Pat quickly changed his expression to a sincere smile. He took his son's right hand in his and examined it. It looked like Jesse hadn't clipped his nails for a while; they exceeded his fingertips by about an eighth of an inch. He said, "Excellent. We've got something to work with here, son." Jesse frowned. He'd planned on clipping his nails tonight after he showered. 'It's too late, now,' he sullenly thought. Pat picked up the emery board and lost himself in shaping his son's nails. Jesse watched his father skillfully work on his fingernails, and a thought occurred to him. "Why are boys treated so different from girls, Dad?" he asked. "What do you mean, son?" "Well, girls have more rights than we do. I saw it on the vid-news last night." "Like what, Jesse?" Pat was curious to see exactly how much his son knew. "Well, girls can go to more school than we can. They can vote and we're not allowed to. They can buy alcohol and we can't. And they can drive a car anywhere they want to, but we have a limit." Jesse knew that there were more differences than the ones he'd just mentioned, but he couldn't recall them at the moment. Pat stopped filing his son's nails and looked up at him. He hadn't realized that Jesse was as politically astute as he'd just shown. "There are good reasons for the distinctions, son. In a few years, when you get to the twelfth grade, you'll take a course in American History that will answer all of your questions." Pat resumed the manicure. "Can't you tell me now, Dad? I'm curious." Jesse detected his father's hesitation to answer, and he implored, "Please?" Pat placed the emery board on the table and reached for the nail polish. He unscrewed the applicator. As he attentively brushed red polish onto Jesse's thumbnail, he said, "Well, I'll tell you the general reasons behind the distinctions. You'll have to wait until you take the history course for the details. Understand, son?" "Okay, Dad." The smell of the nail polish made Jesse a little nauseous. As he continued to apply polish to Jesse's fingernails, Pat said, "A long time ago, boys ran the country. And they nearly destroyed themselves. They put all the women at risk, too. The women took charge and they figured out a way to save everyone. And after they did, they put some rules in place to prevent boys from ever endangering humanity again." "What rules, Dad?" "Rules like the ones you just mentioned, Jesse." "But it seems like they're picking on us. Are the rules really necessary, Dad?" "I'm afraid they are, son. Look at it this way: the women stopped us from killing everyone. They're worried that if we ever take charge again, we'd make the same mistakes. And the next time, the women might not be able to save us. Boys can be very stubborn. It's difficult for us to learn from our mistakes. The women believe that they need to manage us and lead us in the right direction. And you know what, Jesse? They're right. Ever since the women took over, there's been peace, prosperity, and good fortune. We boys lead fine lives. The women take very good care of us." "How, Dad?" "They provide for our needs, Jesse. They protect us. They treat us with respect. They also give us love, Jesse. That's so important. You'll see what I mean when you get a little older." Pat thought of how much Alex loved him, and he nearly whimpered. "Okay, son, I'm all done. Take a look at your hands." Jesse looked down and was surprised to see how different his hands looked. He'd been paying attention to his father's words and had stopped watching him work on his nails. "What do you think, son?" Jesse couldn't deny that his hands looked nice. Not as nice as his father's, though, because his nails weren't that long. "Well?" his father asked. It was obvious to Jesse that his father wanted a response from him. He said, "They look pretty good, Dad. Uh... thanks." Pat smiled. He was pleased that his son liked the manicure. "Let your nails grow a little longer, Jesse. They'll look even nicer that way," he advised. "Okay." Pat thought that the timing was right to raise the subject of Jesse's return to school next month. It was something that needed to be addressed before the new school term began. He said, "You know, Jesse, when you go back to school in a few weeks, you'll be in the tenth grade. The new school is too far away to walk to like you did last term, so you'll have to take a bus. And at this point in your education, the dress code comes into effect. You'll be expected to adhere to it." "There's a dress code?" "Yes, there is. It applies to all boys who've reached the tenth grade. You'll have to dress differently." "Dress differently? How, Dad?" "You'll have to wear a dress or a skirt to school, now." Jesse had heard that the older boys at the higher school wore dresses, but he'd thought that they did it voluntarily. He didn't like what he'd just learned from his father, and his heart rate quickened. He'd worn a dress only one time a few years earlier when he'd gone to that wedding. He'd always worn jeans, a cotton shirt and sneakers to school. He hadn't cared for the frilly panties and brassieres that he wore underneath, but at least the outerwear had concealed them. Now, everyone would see him dressed in dainty clothes. He asked, "Why can't I just keep wearing jeans and a shirt, Dad?" "Because you have to play by the rules, son. And the rules require that you wear a dress to school, now." Pat paused for a brief moment, then added, "It's not just you, Jesse. All the boys your age have to do it." His father's addendum hadn't lessened Jesse's concern one bit, and he pouted. Pat recalled that he, too, had been embarrassed about the dress code when he'd been a tenth grader. But he'd gotten used to it, and his son would, too. He said, "You know, I've saved all of the clothes that I wore when I was your age, Jesse. They're in the wardrobe in the basement. They should fit you just fine. We'll move them up to your bedroom this weekend. Okay?" Jesse dejectedly gazed at the surface of the table, and said, "Yeah, I guess so." He still couldn't grasp the purpose of the dress code, and he asked, "I know you said it's a rule, Dad, but why do they have the rule?" "You're certainly the curious one tonight, Jesse. Come to think of it, I suppose I was curious about it, too, when I was your age." Pat paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, and said, "You see, the women believe that dresses are appropriate attire for boys when they reach the tenth grade. At that point in their lives, boys are sixteen years old, Jesse, like you are. They've matured physically, and wearing pretty clothes helps them mature mentally." "How, Dad?" "Well, I suppose it helps them prepare for the role they're expected to play in life, son." "What role, Dad?" "One that supports the women. They're busy running the government and working in important jobs. They earn the money that supports their families, Jesse. Like Mom does." "So what are the boys supposed to do, Dad?" "We have an important support role, Jesse. We assume a lot of the domestic tasks." "Domestic tasks?" "Yeah, like taking care of the house. We keep it clean and comfortable for our families. And we do the cooking, the marketing and the laundry. We also raise the children while our wives are at work. These are all very important functions, Jesse, and they shouldn't be taken lightly." Pat was very proud of the job he'd done as Alex's househusband, and he beamed in self-satisfaction. He told Jesse, "You'll be taking a number of homemaking classes in the upcoming school term that'll prepare you for these tasks." "Can't boys work, too, Dad?" Jesse asked. "Sure they can, son, but the women are the real breadwinners in life. They're the ones who pay the b