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James William Casey did not know what happened. All he knew was that he went to bed one night with his wife in the two storey suburban home and woke up in Point Place Mercy General hospital's intermediate care ward. The machines beeped and their sensors felt strange on James' now enlarged and bulbous chest. Carolynne, James' wife stood in the room and looked at him. She clutched at the wad of Kleenex in her hand and listened as the dr. whispered to her. When he stopped talking, Carolynne burst into tears and ran out of the room. James' children were not there. The doctor turned to James and asked him, "Mr. Casey, are you conscious, can you hear me?" James nodded, but did not speak. He felt too queer and did not trust his voice not to break. The doctor continued, "Mr. Casey, last night, you fell into a deep coma. When you were in this coma, you experienced a strange metamorphosis. As near, as we can determine, Mr. Casey, you have transformed completely into a biological female. This seems to be part of a nationwide epidemic of transformations, we don't understand how or why this happened, and all we know is that we could not do anything to stop it." James spoke in an unbelieving shaking voice, "You, you're kidding, you have to be kidding. What are you telling me, are you telling me that I'm a woman, I turned into a woman? That's crazy, that's impossible, that can't happen, It's impossible!" "Mr Casey we don't know how this has happened, but we do know it has happened. It may be incomprehensible to us but the plain fact is that by every test we have and every measure we can take, you ARE a biological woman." James' voice was quiet and seemed distant, "Has this happened to anyone else?" "Yes, Mr. Casey, it has. Thousands of cases are reported and more are happening as we speak. No one knows why, but the President has promised to make a statement tonight." "So, what happens to me?" "Right now we hold you for observation and we wait to see if you'll remain as you are. If you remain as you are and experience no further changes, we'll discharge you into the care of your wife and family." The doctor left and James used the remote to turn on the room's Television. He had been right. The news was breaking in at intervals to report dozens and hundreds of men in hospitals all over the country that had changed or were changing. These men came from all lifestyles and whatever was happening was no respecter of age, ethnicity, or economic station. Whatever did this was some kind of pandemic and the CDC was overwhelmed. One woman in Alabama woke up to find her husband transformed and she shot him out of hand thinking he was his own mistress. Another changed man jumped from his hospital window. A third victim was torn to pieces by his own church group the fourth poor sod was murdered in a particularly nasty way by his own Klan brothers, They raped him to death. James sat up in bed and hoped that his wife would stick by him. He realized she probably would not, but he had nowhere else to go. James spent the intervening days enduring the medical checks and paying attention when they told him how to take care of his new anatomy. Joe ate mechanically not really enjoying the food, but consuming it because he knew the body needed it. When President Ford revealed the existence of the aliens and the reality of the changes as a biological attack, James just nodded dumbly. James left Point Place mercy General hospital wearing plain white bra and panties, t-shirt, sweater, plain jacket, tan slacks ankle socks and sneakers. He now had a driver's license that identified him as "Jane Casey." The December weather was cold. Too cold for the light jacket James had been given and he shivered under the chill. His wife, stood by their 1958 Plymouth Belvedere and when James walked toward her he tried to talk to her and she held up a hand and told him, "Get in the passenger side, I'll drive you home. I need to tell you some things." James got in the car's passenger side and told her, "O.K., Carolynne I'm listening." "I understand that this was not your fault or your doing, this is just something that happened to you. All the same, I cannot live with you like this, and I cannot allow our children to live with a father that isn't even a proper man any more." James was thunderstruck, "Carolynne, what, I,...I don't,..." "Damn it James, let me finish I need to get through this.. I am divorcing you. No contest. I don't want any alimony and the house and cars are yours. All I ask is an even division of our assets aside from that. I will allow you that, if you agree to let me take full custody of the children. If you do that, I won't even ask any child support. Those are my terms. If you accept them, we can part as friends, if you don't this can get as ugly as you want it to get." As Carolynne spoke, she drove them to the couple's house in the Wisconsin suburban housing development of Point Place. When they reached their house, James just nodded and told her, "Whatever, Carolynne, if that's how it is then that's how it is." "Good, I am sorry to be doing this, but you have to understand, two women, it's not natural, it's just not." "Fine, Carolynne, whatever." The car stopped in front of the house and Carolynne looked at James. The disgust on her face was obvious. She could barely even stand to look at him now. James asked her, "So you're borrowing the Belvedere?" "I'll pay to have it towed back here tomorrow or the next day. Whenever I can arrange a vehicle of my own." James did not look at her as he told her, "fine. Until you return it,. I still have the Gremlin." Carolynne told him, still not looking at him, "Alright, James, What shall I tell the children?" James then felt rage welling up inside him and almost choked on the unreleased fury. His wife was leaving him and taking the children and he would be all alone in the family's home to fend for himself. Moreover, she wanted to know what to tell them. "Tell them I love them and I miss them. Tell them I'll always love them." "I, I meant what do I tell them about what happened to you?" James was aghast and said so as he asked her, "They don't know? No, of course not, tell them whatever you want to tell them, Carolynne, whatever fantasy it pleases you to make up. Then James got out of the car and walked to the front door carrying his canvas bag of personal effects marked 'Patient's belongings'. James fumbled with the bag and took out the keys. When he had the door unlocked and went inside, Carolynne drove away. James locked the door and looked around the darkened empty house. It was a big two-story house with a good-sized lawn and a nice driveway. James sat in his big Lay-z boy recliner and looked into the dark. He thought about everything. A promotion at work to executive vice president of distribution and a fat bonus that let them pay off the house. Now, his wife was gone, and she took his kids. He was a biological woman and who knew what would happen at work on Monday. No way were they letting a woman run the entire Midwest distribution department for NorCom industries. That just was not going to happen. James got up and went upstairs. Jimmy's room was empty, bare to the walls, everything was gone. The same with little Carrie's room. The master bedroom was half wreaked and Carolynne's closet was empty. Her vanity was gone and the bathroom was bare of feminine accoutrements. She had three days to clean the place out, and apparently, she had made very good use of the time. James went into the bedroom he and his wife once shared and sat on the edge of their marriage bed. James Casey asked himself, 'why had he accepted Carolynne's terms so easily, so meekly? The answer was that James hated fighting, so much so that when Carolynne would push a point of contention, James would give in just to keep from being one of 'those couples' the sorts of couples that yelled and screamed at each other over everything and made their own children afraid of them. James stood and went into the bathroom. After splashing water onto his face, he looked into the mirror. Jet black hair, clipped short and only barely unkempt because of it's shortness, green eyes pale skin defined cheekbones and slim shoulders. Much of James' barrel-chested bulk was now gone. The doctors had speculated that it had been consumed as energy to make the transformation possible. James looked slightly downward at the fleshy protuberances under the shirt and jacket he wore. They felt like a part of his body, but even so, they seemed alien to him. They were strange things that did not belong there. That was when James thought about something that DID belong in the place it once occupied that was no longer there. It was something that he took for granted and did not even think about. James' stay in the hospital had given him more chances than he cared to think about to look at his own naked transformed body. He did not need or want to see it again. Nevertheless, James realized he needed a shower and to brush his teeth to get ready for bed. James matter of factly pulled his clothes off and stepped over to the tub, turning the water on and adjusting the temperature. He then stepped into it and began washing himself in a brisk utilitarian manner. James was focused on getting himself clean and getting the task over with so that he could cover his body and get to bed. The idea of masturbating his feminine anatomy did not even occur to him and would have revolted him if it had entered his mind. James rummaged around in the canvas bag the hospital gave him and found one of three sets of plain white cotton panties issued to him. He put them on, and snugged them into place before pulling a plain white t-shirt on over his head and sitting down to get ready to crawl into bed. James looked at the small bottle of Seconal they prescribed him and threw them in the wastebasket. Those would NOT help him adjust to this. It took forever for James to get to sleep. Every little noise convinced him something was wrong, and then too, the sheer silent emptiness of the house was equally disturbing. Finally, after laying there for hours, James finally dropped off. The next morning was Saturday. James realized as he awoke that he had no idea what he was supposed to do with himself. James searched the kitchen for something he could eat and settled on toast and a bowl of Frosted Flakes left behind by the children. Carolynne left all the food in the house as she probably realized taking that would have been a bit much. James chewed his way through breakfast, barely tasting it and placed the empty dirty dishes in the sink. James sat down on the living room couch and turned on the TV. It was Saturday morning and so what greeted his eyes were a collage of simply and blatantly made animated cartoons on various channels. James turned it off and went back upstairs to get dressed. He had to do SOMETHING and that left going somewhere to avoid being by himself with his thoughts. James realized that his tennis shoes were a size too big for his feminine feet. He answered that by wearing two pairs of socks. His tan slacks were tightened by cinching his belt as tight as it would go. His polo shirt bagged in the shoulders and waist but was a little tight in the chest for obvious reasons. James looked in the bedroom mirror at the young black haired woman wearing her father's clothes and said, "What the hell." He was getting used to the woman's voice coming out of his throat, but it was still a little jarring at times. James tried to put his wallet with his new driver's License in his back pocket and realized he would have to use the front pocket. His butt made the fabric of the pants a little tight despite the looseness of the waist. James walked to the enclosed two car garage and found the red 1974 American Motor company Gremlin sitting right where his wife,...EX-wife, parked it. James took the keys from the pegboard hanging by the refrigerator and walked over to the car. His wife had driven it last and so James only had to adjust the driver's seat a little bit as he was now not very much bigger than she was. He adjusted the mirrors and inserted the key into the ignition as he placed his left foot on the brake and his right foot on the gas pedal. James activated the garage door opener by remote and started the car. It only took two tries to get it to turn over and James carefully backed out of the driveway. Pulling out into the street James realized he had no idea where to go, then it hit him, Charlie's bar for a few drinks. That always made him feel better. It was worth a try. The red Gremlin pulled up to the front of Charlie's place and James saw the parking lot empty except for Charlie's car and those of a couple of employees. That's right, it was ten o'clock in the morning and the place was closed. It would be until noon. James instead drove to the Point Place Galleria. He realized he could not continue to wear his male wardrobe. The clothes simply did not fit and his new upper anatomy would need the support of a brassiere. James had 4,745 dollars and 67 cents in his personal executive account at the bank. His wife did not know about it and he liked it that way. Their joint account held 2,045 dollars and 12 cents. That was all the money to which Carolynne would have access. The slightly less than five grand was James' disaster money. If the roof ever fell in, either figuratively or literally, the money would be there. James decided that as far as disaster went, this most defiantly qualified. James Casey's first stop would be the First National Bank of Point Place to get himself in his new form recognized as the primary account holder. He had the COIN papers, (Continuity Of Identity and Normalization) and if the bank raised a stink he could show them those. James walked in on uncertain feet and legs as he glanced at the guard and several of the patrons. It took James a few second to realize that three of them were shorthaired women in badly fitting men's clothing that looked as unsure and nervous as he did. On of them was a blonde-haired woman that had managed to belt and strap herself into a three-piece suit belonging to a man at least twice her weight. The cuffs of the jacket and shirt went past her fingers and she had to push them up to fill out the change of account forms. The woman in the badly fitting suit shambled over to an account agent's desk, nearly tripping in the pants that were too long for her. She sat and spoke quietly at first, but then her voice rose and became shrill, as she demanded, "What do you mean 'no' I have over Five million dollars in this bank it's MY money! Do you know who I am, I am Chester Edmond Endicott, my family practically founded this bank, and we practically founded this city!" "Ma'am this bank has rules, we can't just hand over access to these accounts to some, well some woman that comes in off the street and claims to be a sixty-seven year old man. It just isn't done." "Do you know who I am; I'm Chester Edmond Endicott the third! You can't treat me like this, See; these papers say who I am see?" The young blond woman waved the sheaf of papers in her hand almost as if they were a shield and the bank official took them and looked at them. After he spent long minutes reading them, the blonde woman in the badly bagging suit was looking around and starting to cry quietly. The official put the papers down and said, "Well, this is quite irregular, but it does seem as if these papers are in order,...Mr. Endicott, it would seem that despite appearances, you ARE indeed one of our depositors and a rather established one at that. I do apologize. He looked uncomfortably at the young woman and hesitatingly offered her a box of Kleenex, "It's Alright,...sir, you needn't take on so, It's going to be alright." The woman sniffed and choked back another sob as she told him, "You're damned right it is, now what do we do about this?" "Well,...sir, we come over here to our notary public and we have you certified and sealed as the registered depositor for this account, one Chester Edmond Endicott the third, to all appearances a young blond blue-eyed woman who has lost quite a bit of weight." The young female Mr Endicott left the bank with her affairs in order and that left James to take his turn. He matter-of-factly put his COIN papers down in front of the fussy pinch faced man and told him, "I am James Casey, and those are my COIN papers, issued to me by the hospital that witnessed my transformation." The bank official read the papers, looking at James, and oddly nodding. He told James, "Forgive me,...sir, but in your case, I can rather see it. Your eyes especially." "I hope so, Robert, I dealt with you personally when we took out our mortgage and then when I paid it off last year. As I recall, you were quite put out at losing the points when we paid off early." "Yes, yes, sir, I was, but still, this must be quite a shock for you,...sir." "Robert you have no idea." "Yes,...sir, I mean,...no,...sir, Well at any rate, why don't we just come over here and get you checked and notarized and you can use your accounts, Mr. Casey." It all went by the numbers. Because James' neurology had not changed, his signature was a spot on match as Robert Burrwell affirmed in front of the Notary public the bank hired for this crisis. James Casey walked out of the bank and to the waiting Gremlin with the new bankbooks in his pockets and got in to start the car. As James sat there, he started to feel sad. He started to feel a terrible deep overwhelming melancholy, this caused tears to leak out of his eyes, and before James knew it, he was crying and holding himself trying to stop the deep body wracking sobs that shook him. When James reached the end of the worst crying jag he had in thirty years, he looked around and saw a woman with her son staring at him. The boy asked his mother, "Mom, why is that woman crying, is she O.K.?" The mother answered, "I think she used to be a man, like the news said on TV." Rather than move to ask after James' welfare, the woman almost seemed repulsed as she hurried her son along into the bank to do their errands. Somehow, that did not surprise James, of course, she was repelled, his new body and status repelled him himself, and he would have to live this way. James looked at his reflection in the rear and side view mirrors. His face was streaked with the clear salt-water marks of a full on crying jag and his eyes were red. James started the car and turned on the car radio. As he drove out of the parking lot he thought about the other former men, now women he had seen. One was obviously an older and very well heeled business type. The other two, he could not peg, their clothes were a bit too patched together and "Thrift store-ish. Maybe they were college age, maybe they were just dressing out of the hamper he didn't know. James drove to the nearest public library and spent the next several hours reading every book he could find about gender politics, and women's rights, including "The feminine mystique" by Betty Friedan. He reasoned that he was in the club now, and their problems would become his. After more time reading, and having to leave because of the closing time of the library, James realized that all these books were about women born and for women born, not him. He was a freak, he didn't fit. James was not a man and he was not a woman. This caused James to feel even more isolated and alone, even from the other change victims. James Casey drove home and ate a Swanson's TV dinner. He read the newspaper, and eventually fell asleep on the couch. The next morning, James rose feeling sore from sleeping on the couch and went to shower. He stripped and washed his body almost mechanically at first. Then James started to feel sexually aroused and began caressing his breasts. They felt very good and almost begged to be touched. The nipples felt almost like the tips of little tiny penises, and James kept teasing them, touching them, and rubbing the skin around the nipples as well. Doing this created building warmth between his legs that attracted James's other hand and, with an almost biological fascination, his fingers explored the strange moist fleshy folds of tissue and skin between his legs and nestled in the cleft. James rubbed and massaged himself upstairs and downstairs feeling the building heat and pleasurable vibrations and wanting to feel the oncoming orgasm. By the time the almost full-body explosion of hot vibrating mind crushing sensation hit him, he was beyond shame, and beyond caring. It was with a surprised after realization that he realized he screamed when it hit him. James felt ashamed of himself for the act of wanton self abused he had just committed and scrubbed piously at himself as he finished his shower. He then dried off and sat on the couch in one of his bathrobes thinking about what he had done. Why had he done that? Because it had felt good. That was no excuse in his mind. No excuse at all and he remonstrated himself for it. James Casey spoke aloud to his own reflection in the bathroom mirror as he combed and brushed at his hair. It was still too short to be a serious problem as it was the same length he had always worn it. "You are NEVER going to do that again. Honestly, what happened to you, aren't you a grown man? Don't you know better than to just play with yourself like some kind of deviant pervert?" James Casey watched the news and was surprised to see Uncle Walter on the case, Lucky bastard. There were probably a lot of guys like him that got to keep their dicks. James thought about it, and could easily see 'men' like him becoming a new marginalized class. Not men, but yet not women either, or at least not natural born women. James had been married for twenty years, but even with all that time around his wife, he was not an acculturated female. He knew nothing of their world, their rules of behavior or anything. Even if he dared try to wear feminine clothes, James would feel like a man in a dress. The word from Uncle Walter was that aliens called the "Raianna" did this. No one knew why. Ten percent to fifteen of the male population had RH negative blood and that meant at least TEN percent of all the world's men were doomed. Those were big numbers. How much of the U.S> Military and police forces, how many in the professional trades? It seems women's rights and the Women's liberation movement just received either a shot in the arm, or a deathblow. It could honestly go either way. Monday morning, James William Casey, rose at 545 A.M. showered in a 20 minute purely utilitarian manner finishing as fast as he could. Brushed his teeth, and was about to shave when he glared at his baby smooth womanly face almost resentfully and went to get dressed. Putting on what would be his ONLY concession to womanhood, James donned a pair of white cotton panties and then donned a V-neck white t-short and a blue dress shirt. Next came a pair of black socks. A pair of grey trousers belted tight and a pair of 'sensible shoes' his wife had left behind for some unknown reason. They were brown and suited the three piece grey suite James was putting on today. Next came a grey vest, a silver watch, and a grey double-breasted suit jacket. A striped blue and silver tie completed the ensemble and James filled his pockets with his wallet, the folder containing his COIN papers and the silver card case holding his business cards. James, was about to grab his cigarettes when he realized he hadn't smoked since this,...thing had happened to him, nor had he felt the need. He had also been sleeping through the night and waking with no hacking wheezing coughing. James dropped that pack of Benson & Hedges cigarettes, but took the Zippo lighter. You never knew what might come in handy. Grabbing his car keys James climbed into the returned and gassed up 1958 Plymouth Belvedere and pulled out of the driveway. He was pleased yet chagrined to discover his driving was completely unaffected by his new Feminine body. Driving to the NorCom building in Chicago, Illinois, James William Casey parked in the garage under the building and Badged his way in. He had some trouble with the guards in their soft look blazers and ties but his COIN papers got him in. They amended their lists to account for the now female James Casey. James was optimistic until he reached the upper floors where his office lay, and the laughter started. There this woman was in an ill-fitting grey three- piece suit carrying James's expensive brown attach? case in one hand and marching toward his corner office. When James Casey arrived, he paused as he passed his secretary and told her, "Maddy, I'd love a coffee, black two sugars." As he walked in and sat down to begin his day. James was depending on the technique of the Bavarian Fire Drill to get him through. It did not work and Madeline Kramer went to speak to James' boss about the strange woman in drag in her boss's office. James' boss entered the corner office with two security men in tow and Norbert Ebersol asked In a stern voice that quivered his jowls, "Young lady, who are you, and what are you doing in those clothes and our senior officer's office?" James Casey stood and proffered his COIN papers and there was a minor fracas as security conducted James to the main boardroom for a meeting with the senior Board members of the corporation. They all had heard the news of the previous night, but none of them had RH negative blood. Despite that lack, they all agreed that if President Ford thought this woman was James, then his identity should be taken as read to be accurate. This woman WAS their senior Vice President In charge of Midwestern distribution. The question was, could the Board of directors of North American Commercial HAVE a WOMAN in charge of their Midwest distribution department? James William Casey was sent from the room while the board debated that issue. James sat in his office twiddling his thumbs waiting nervously for the board to tell him their decision. He was not literally twiddling his thumbs; James was looking through the various newspapers and reading about the skyrocketing numbers of changed men and boys. Fathers and sons were always changed together. That made sense, as they would have the same blood type. That was when James picked up the phone and asked Madeline to call his mother in law. James' wife answered and informed him that he now had TWO daughters. James shook his head in disbelief. His son, his first-born was gone replaced by another daughter. The poor kid had to be losing his mind. The number of men and boys in the U.S. was predicted to drop as if it were a brick. 15 percent of the population was changed or changing or would be very likely to change into a woman or girl. That meant that Stargirls as the editor of the Washington post called them would be a solid and large minority in the United States. A minority, that was so strange to think of for James William Casey. All of his life he had been a white male heterosexual protestant American solidly entrenched in the upper middle class of the American life. When he thought of 'Minorities' he always thought of angry black men marching for one reason or another or Jews needing rescue from tyranny or oppression, or Mexicans and or Chinese people working this or that menial job due to an inability to speak correct English. James looked down at the outward curve of his breasts and ran his hands over the sculpted feminine curves under his conservative suit. James grimace ruefully and thought to himself, 'I guess god decided James needed a lesson for his smug self satisfied superiority.' James tried to get his wife to let him see his son and talk to him, "Damn it I can help him deal with this, I can talk him through it." She flatly refused and informed James that his transformed son was going to a convent. That was just his wife's speed, shove the problem away, and pretend it does not exist. The reverie and phone conversation was interrupted by the knock at James' office door. The board had met and was ready to tell James William Casey where he stood. Walking to the big boardroom the man himself wondered what the result would be. He had worked here for twenty years, beginning as a junior account executive. Then working as a marketing executive of varying ranks, always varying upward. His next promotion was expected to be to the top spot a seat on the board. Then a ten-year easy cruise to a comfortable retirement. James William Casey walked into the boardroom at the invitation of the girl outside. He was offered a chair and asked if he would like a coffee or a pastry or some other kind of refreshment. They asked after his wife and children and he told them, "She left me and took my son and daughter with her, this damned virus has transformed my son as well." Harvey Denethol smarmily told James, "Well, that's just terrible, I'm sure it must be a great shock to you, That is why the Board feels that you're already under such strain and stress as it is, We feel now is the time for you to step down and retire, yes' it's early, but we think this is the best thing. Don't worry, you'll be paid your full pension and retirement package, we certainly would never think of denying you that." Pragmatically, it was far more likely they were afraid of a lawsuit backed by the Federal Government that would leave them in ruins. As a lifelong conservative white male, James Casey often was either indifferent to the Federal Government, or hostile to it. Now, however, he realized that it was protecting and safeguarding him. The threat of legal and civil repercussions from 'Big Government' was the reason James wasn't being heaved out with nothing. James wordlessly walked out and packed his personal things into a cardboard box. He would still receive his salary every month, and presumably, his stock options were good, but he would NOT be coming in to work anymore. The money was always secondary for James; it was the work he loved. Doing something with his day and knowing that he was a valuable functional member of the American life. James Casey drove home in his 1958 Plymouth Belvedere and realized he had no reason to hurry. By the time he was pulling into the driveway of his two story suburban home, it hit him that he didn't have anywhere to go and he didn't have anything to do. He was a biological woman living in an empty house in an upper middle class neighborhood of Point Place Wisconsin. It was after Christmas An hour later, James Casey was on a barstool at Charley's bar sipping at a boilermaker. Four stools away a light brown haired woman in army fatigues and boots shouted, "RELOAD!" After pounding down a shot of whiskey. She wasn't completely boiled yet, but if she kept at it, she'd get there. James sat down next to her and said, matter of factly, "Jim Casey, Ex-executive. You?" The almost crew-cut haired woman glanced over at James and seemed to hesitate before telling him, Ken Erlacher, formerly Staff Sergeant Ken Erlacher. A week ago, my legs stopped at the knee and I still had my pecker, now I got my legs back and no pecker. All in all I would rather have it the other way." James sipped at his drink and answered, "Sergeant, I know how you feel." "D'ja serve?" "U.S. Marines, Korea, a little before your time." "Thought so, you felt to me like a brother, S'ok pal I'll just bet you know how I feel, bet you do." "You were army, Sergeant Erlacher?" "Yeah, but fuck it, we're all on the same team, Bro. Say, buy you another one of those, or maybe somethin' stronger?" "No, thanks, and I think maybe you better lay off too, Sergeant." Sergeant Ken Erlacher stood up shakily, and then collapsed onto the floor. James helped HIM back to HIS feet and the good Sergeant answered, "Say, you know, I think I better lay off, three shots NEVER used to knock me on my ass like that." "Well, I'm betting you used to be a little bigger." Sergeant Erlacher nodded and grinned drunkenly, "Yeah, I was a big bastard, six four, two sixty-five and meaner than hell, now look at me, I aint even one thirty soakin' wet." "Well, Sergeant,..." "Listen, I aint in the damned army no more, call me Ken." James nodded and answered back, "Only if you call me Jim, Ken." Ken Erlacher responded, as he staggered away from the bar with James' help, "You bet Jimmie." James, put a twenty out of his wallet on the bar and the barman nodded in acknowledgement that both his and Ken's bar tab had just been paid. Ken Erlacher, it turned out, joined the U.S. army straight out of high school specifically to avoid being drafter in 1970. His rationale was that the volunteers in country would have it slightly better than the conscripts. He thought the army brass would favor the volunteers over the troops that had to be forced. Such turned out not to be the case and Private Ken Erlacher was just another grunt in the shit for three years. Right up until he was permanently wounded in Cambodia in 1973. Staff Sergeant Ken Erlacher came home and spent two years residing in a wheelchair. He was actually in the Veteran's administration's offices trying to straighten out his SNAFUed bennies when he fell over in his coma and began to transform. Now, Ken looked good to lose his Disabled veteran's benefits on the grounds that technically, he was no longer disabled. That was what had him in Charlie's bar trying to poison himself on shots of Mad Dog whiskey. James took Ken back to his home in suburban Point Place and put him on the couch for as long as he needed to be there. Ken Erlacher had lost his apartment and his car and thanks to the nanite virus, even his manhood. He had NOTHING and oddly, James felt a strong kinship with the man. Ken Erlacher was a veteran of a war in which the people of the U.S. were desperate to forget they had ever participated. A war that in the face of the aliens, the virus and the peace with the Soviets, people were trying to pretend had never happened. That was when James asked Ken the 100,000 dollar question, "Ken, just how MANY disabled veterans are being transformed, that you're aware of?" "Jimbo, I do believe you may be the first person in the world who has EVER asked that. TO my knowledge, every brother I have ever seen that lost an arm or arms or a leg or legs, or their eyes or hearing, or what have you HAS been changed into a fully able bodied woman." "I sort of thought as much and how many men do you think have been changed In the general population previous to their change had some kind of life threatening or disabling malady or injury?" "Well what about you?" "Well, Ken I was a pretty heavy smoker. At least two packs a day on the average and I probably had a nasty undiagnosed case of lung cancer. Now I won't say that EVERY changed man needed serious medical help, but if you held a knife to my belly, I would just bet that seven dudes turned chicks out of ten needed more medical care that 1975 America could give them. When the Raianna claimed they were doing us a favor, MAYBE they really were" Ken sat on the couch, legs spaddled open and leaning forward and rejoined, "But what about the blood factor thing, that RH Negative thing.?" "Do you know just how MANY men have that blood factor, a bunch and even so, The changes are slowing down aren't they. Someone needs to know about this, dollars to donuts they're so busy trying to fight the Chicks with Dicks that this may well have fallen by the wayside." Ken stood up and was incredulous. "Come on James, this is the Government, the U.S. Government, they're geniuses, they put people on the moon, they build spaceships, I bet they got a room full of geniuses just sittin around thinin' shit up and somewhere else, they got another room full of guys backin' them up." James counterpointed with, "And they managed to lose a war full of victorious battles to a stone-age country and it took them eight years to do that." Ken got in James' face and demanded angrily, "Who the hell do you think you are, man, are you calling me a loser?" "No, Ken I'm telling you that you and all your buddies spent eight years winning and winning and winning and winning and despite all the T.D.s you guys brought in, THOSE Doofusses STILL LOST!" "Oh, yeah, Jimmy-poo, what do you know about it?" "I know I spent three years in Korea fighting like hell with all my buddies fighting the commies and kicking their ass, and the best we could get out of it after Washington's bungling was a Non-loss. A restoration of the status- quo-ante. We didn't get to really win either." That gave Ken Erlacher pause. "O.K., Yeah, when you put it like that you got something. Guys like you and me and all our dudes fight and bleed and think we're going to win and meanwhile the guys in D.C. are over there pumpin' the neighbor's dog." "That's right, and if they screwed the pooch on that one why isn't it possible and even likely that they missed this trick?" "Well yeah, when you put it like that, I buy it,. Still, Jimmie, at least at the end of the day there is still a country called South Korea." "Technically there is still a country called South Vietnam, too, Ken." "For the moment." "Fair point." James and Ken spent the rest of the afternoon putting their heads together and figuring out who they could contact to tell the Feds their idea. Their notion that if not all, then at least most of the changees had a previous health condition that had now, post transformation been repaired. The plan the two of them crafted was to head to the federal building, get in the door with Ken's Veteran Cred and tell them that they knew WHY the Raianna really sent the virus and that it may well NOT have been a deliberate act of malice. If that was the case, it put an entirely different complexion on the war. That night, as Ken and James were sitting up over bottles of Schlitz Ken told James, "You know, for me, the one upside to this, the ONE thing keeping me from eating a bullet is that now, my desire for men is perfectly acceptable and even orthodox." James' brain careened on a rocket sled into the brick wall of Ken's off-the- cuff admission and answered, "Say what?" Ken smiled at James and told him, "I was a fag, a queer a homo, a rope sucker. As of now, that makes me a completely heterosexual woman. How about you?" What do you mean how about me? I was married for 20 years, I have two children, until this happened I was Mr. Pillar of the community, deacon at our church salt of the earth guy." "James, that's not an answer, at least it's NOT an answer to the question I asked. The question, was, Mr. Corporate executive big shot, Are you attracted to men or to women?" "I was married for 20 years, I fathered two children doesn't THAT answer your question?" No, Jimbo, it really doesn't not even close, do you know how many Saigon hookers I fucked trying to pretend I WASN'T gay?" "Really, how did that go?" "Shitloads of foreplay followed by me taking forever to come and getting offered lots of discounts and freebees, but that's not the point, the point is I felt empathy for them not a desire to fuck them." "Look I think I love women, which I guess makes me a gay woman now, but there was this one guy, in the war, his name was Joe, Joe Bradley, he was in my squad and well, I never told anyone about this shit, but,...I loved him. We palled around, we were best friends." "And so?" "And so what? And so nothing, he died last year, I read his obituary. Some random psycho got him." "Jesus, Jimbo I'm sorry, that sucks ass, man, I'm so sorry." "Yeah, well, I'm the asshole that ought to be sorry. I was so ashamed of my feelings for him that after the war when we got home I stopped talking to him, I stopped writing to him, I stopped,...everything. I lost him because I was too big a pussy to be who I was and stand up for the man I loved." "Did you love your wife?" "I,...I liked her, I guess I told myself that I LEARNED to love her, and you better believe I love my so-my two daughters. It was the 1950's Ken, hell, you know, you were just a kid then, but you had to remember the crushing stifling conformity of those years." "I think I kind of do. Everything having to be just so, everyone having to be just so, even us kids having to dress and act and be the way someone else told us to be. A place for everyone and everyone in their place." "Yeah, and I come back to the land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, and Red scares and black lists and I'm supposed to tell my best friend that I'm in love with him and that I have been since we met at the repple depple at Kenpo? Get serious." "Ken told James, as he put the beer down, "Come on, come here I need to show you, and well, me something." Ken walked James over to the bathroom mirror and told him, "Whether either one of us want to admit it or not, we're women now. Not just prima facie, but every which-a-way. I am having as much trouble as you are, I mean I wasn't a woman trapped in a man's body, I was a gay man. I LIKED being a man and having a penis and all that went with it." James sighed and expressed, "Yeah, I miss my dick. I miss it somethin' fielce, we were best friends. Know what I miss the most?" "Jackin' off?" "No, but that's a biggie, don't get me wrong, I mean I did stuff to myself when I became a girl, but,.. it wasn't the same it just made me feel,..." The two people spoke unwittingly at the same time, "Dirty." James continued, "No, what I miss the most is just having my dick and knowing it was there, it was almost like a status symbol. I could pee standing up with it, I could use it as a prop to insult people, it was like the best multi tool." "Yeah." I know women have their boobs as kind of a status symbol, but,. I just can't see myself grabbing my tits and telling someone to suck them as an insult or a kiss-off." "I know what you mean, James, boy, do I EVER!" "So, where do we go from here, Ken?" "Well, we have to get in touch with the Government, but I think we're missing a trick somewhere. Why can't we just go to the Bureau of Gender Adjustment and Location and tell THEM?" James was taken aback by the sheer obviousness of the solution. "Shit, why DON'T we just do that? That was what had the two men in spirit sitting in the waiting room of the B.G.A.L. The waiting room was half full of other former male humans in sloppily put together outfits of strapped and pinned together men's clothes of various styles. James and Ken wrote their names on the list and when they were called, the two (wo)men sat in front of a somewhat frosty looking woman in librarian glasses. She asked them, "How can I help you, do you wish to register a complaint with an employer or place of business, on the grounds of gender persecution or wrongfull dismissal?" James looked at her and realized that the way to get their foot In the door was to get some paper started, "Yes, Ma'am, I was recently terminated from my position at NorCom Industries as a direct result of my involuntary transformation into a biological woman." The woman handed James a thick sheaf of forms and told him, "Fill these out exactly according to the instructions on the form, blue ink where listed, black ink where listed, pencil where specified." Then she turned to Ken and asked him, "DO you have a grievance or complaint related to your transformation to the feminine gender?" "Yes, I do, the Veteran's administration is threatening to cut of my disability on the grounds that allegedly I am no longer physically disabled." "Fill out these forms in triplicate, blue where needed, black where needed, pencil where needed." Ken and James sat at one of the many tables and began the paperwork required to submit their grievances officially. As they did the required work, James, asked, Ken, "So, WHY am I here scribbling out whiney papers to beg for my job back?" "You're not trying to get your job back, that's not the point, the point is to punish the dickheads who fired you with no cause other than their own fears and self loathing." "And how exactly does this get us a meeting with someone who has lots of tin on their shoulders?" "We're getting on the radar." "I sure hope to hell this works, Ken. If it doesn't we're gonna be out on the street, with our dicks in our hands." "Technically, we don't have dicks anymore." "You know what I mean!" "Yeah, I know what you mean, Jimbo." "Don't call me Jimbo." "You got it slim-Jim." ""I can't win." As the two (wo)men left the BGAL offices In the federal building, James told Ken, "I feel really funny about ratting my old bosses to the feds, like I'm just,..I don't know, whining and crying like a crybaby." Ken Erlacher told James, "Jim, you HAVE to tell when you get screwed over. People who do scummy shit NEED to be held to account for it. I found out over my whole life that these old boy's club, codes of silence are bullshit and all they do is protect the people doing the worst scummy shit. Of COURSE guys like that will call you names for telling on them, they're doing scummy shit that they KNOW they're not supposed to do, THAT'S why they're pissed you told on them." Ken, I spent my whole life being a white, upper middle class, heterosexual protestant man. I spent my life SOLIDLY in the majority of Americans. I was always a member of 'us, and never a member of 'them'. I would watch the news or read the paper and be filled with good wholesome Caucasian indignation at the bad behavior of 'them, they, those people'". Ken nodded and answered, "Yeah, and now, we ARE 'them, they, those people' and we are getting a very up close and personal lesson in WHY 'them, they, those people' were and are so pissed off." The two people got into Jame's car and prepared to drive away. "Ken, I'm just so angry, at them, at the aliens but worst of all at myself. All those years I spent just blowing off injustice and pretending it wasn't my problem. No one was trying to take MY RIGHTS away, so what the hell did I care?" Ken nodded his head sagely and expressed, "And then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak up." "That's right, that's god damned right, that's dead on the money. I spent most of my life not giving a shit about anyone but me and mine and now I'm paying for it, I'm getting it right in the fucking TEETH!" James pulled the car to the shoulder of the road and his eyes swam with tears as he told Ken, "I don't want to feel like this, I don't want to feel all alone, like I don't matter anymore. I don't want to feel like I'm all alone and nobody cares about me anymore." Then James broke down and Ken didn't even hesitate to hug him and tell him, "Shhh, It's All right, I care about you, you're not alone, Jimmie, I care, I'm here, I won't let anyone hurt you, Jimmie, it's all right, We'll be best friends and we'll make sure no one can ever mess with either of us ever again."