A Real Friend Indeed Or An Enemy
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The Real Enemy free porn video
THE REAL ENEMY
by Jenny North
In hindsight I should have listened to my instincts before I entered the
bar. I'd had a feeling there was something hinky about the place but the
second I walked in I knew I'd made a serious mistake. At first it seemed
like any other bar with a bunch of regulars there to drink, watch the
game, and maybe shoot some pool. But right now the only sound was coming
from the game on the vidscreen, because everybody had stopped to stare at
me.
That in itself was nothing unusual. As a Profem TG I sometimes had that
effect on people, and my gendblend looks and half-buzzed long purple hair
still raised eyebrows in certain circles, even in postwar society. And I
had just stepped into one of those circles, big time.
The bar was filled with thick burly guys, thick burly women, and slight
but curvy women with short and severe haircuts. In another bar I might
have assumed the women to be butch dykes, but given their body language I
pegged them for involuntary TGs from the early resequencing attacks
before the other side genelocked their troops.
According to the pols the war was over. Had been for years. And yet I
half expected there to be a banner on the wall proclaiming, "The penis
shall rise again!"
Most people in that situation would turn right around and congratulate
themselves for dodging a bullet. Me, I walk right in, just like always.
That attitude helped me survive the war--forever charging in where angels
feared to tread--but was also responsible for getting me drummed out of
the service not long after the war was over. Wartime hero, peacetime
fuckup, that's me.
I sat down at the end of the bar and the bartender didn't make a move
before a couple of the women--a big brawny one and a cute little slip of
a girl--came up behind me.
"I think you're in the wrong place, queenie," the big one said in a deep
voice.
"Free country," I said. "I just want a drink, I'm not looking for
trouble."
"Well you fuckin' well found it," the little one squeaked. I managed not
to laugh, but she obviously saw the amused twinkle in my eye and grabbed
my jacket roughly in her tiny little hands. "Somethin' funny, you he/she
bitch?" she challenged.
Her threat was completely adorable, but I knew from hard experience that
these girls had a lot of anger, and a lot to prove. It's like losing
their dicks made them overcompensate, and it made them... unreasonable. I
felt my soldier's instincts take over as I sized them up, glancing behind
them to see who else might jump in.
Which was everybody.
"Hey, whoa. Stand down," a big guy said, moving up alongside the two
women. "It's okay, she's with me." The women didn't seem particularly
satisfied with that, so the guy nodded to the bartender. "Hey, Frank. A
couple beers for the guys here, yeah?"
Temporarily mollified, the two women backed down and returned to their
game of pool as their group continued to bore holes in my back with their
eyes. Meanwhile, my rescuer sat down next to me and put his beer on the
bar. The guy was a wall of muscle, huge and barrel-chested. I pegged him
immediately as a double-Y chromo and he had ex-military written all over
him.
"Thanks," I said.
"Keep it. I just didn't want a fight. Frank's still sore from the last
time things got rowdy."
I nodded. The level of testosterone poisoning in here was shocking. The
double-Y chromos were known for their anger management issues, but the
involuntary TGs were always on a short fuse. We used to joke that the new
girls didn't handle PMS very well.
The guy nodded towards the bartender. "What are you drinking?" he asked
me.
"Beer."
He breathed a small sigh of relief. "Thank God. If you'd ordered some
fruity girly drink then shit would've gotten real in here."
I gave him a hint of a smile as the bartender glared at me and served the
beer. "Cheers," I said.
My new friend took a drink from his glass and looked me over like he was
sizing me up, but he was just being polite. We both knew he'd done that
the second I'd opened the door.
"You got balls coming in here, I'll give you that."
"Not any more," I said with a smirk.
He sniffed. "Yeah, I guess that's what the whole thing was about, right?"
"Guess so."
He sat quiet for a minute. "Where'd it all go wrong?" he wondered.
I put my glass down and stared at him incredulously. "You're fucking with
me, right? It started when your people started genelocking innocent kids,
because God forbid they should be like me."
It was a stupid thing to say, I knew that. I might as well have thrown
the first punch. So I was surprised when he didn't take the bait and just
calmly responded, "Right. Then you folks responded with the gene reseq
attacks. Nice escalation, there."
I lowered my voice and leaned closer, mindful of the new women playing
pool nearby. "Oh, boo fucking hoo. You gonna tell me how a lot of brave
young soldiers lost their pricks that day? Me, I never wanted a fight. I
just wanted to live my life. It's you people that wanted to make me a
pariah."
"Yeah, I've seen your propaganda," he said.
"Well, why don't you ask Little Miss Muffet over there how much she
enjoys sitting down to pee or being on the rag? She can write me a love
sonnet about how hard it is being a genderjoke."
He looked at me seriously. "He's got a name, you know. Joseph Hodge. He
had a wife and two little boys, but she left him since she couldn't
handle becoming a lesbian. He doesn't even want his boys to see him like
he is now."
"Couldn't choose to become a lesbian. That's rich," I muttered. "But
maybe Miss Hodge over there should go pretty herself up, marry a nice
guy, and squeeze out a few kids. Apparently that's just a 'choice' she
can make. I've read your propo, too."
"You're wrong, you know."
"Shocker," I said, taking another drink.
"No, I mean about where it went wrong."
"Ha. A double-Y schools a trans woman on where tolerance failed. This
should be good."
"That's it, right there. That sanctimonious attitude where you act like
you've cornered the fucking market on pain and needing understanding. You
scream for other people to feel your pain and refuse to look past it to
acknowledge anybody else's."
"Big talk. But I doubt you've ever had to fight for the right to use a
bathroom where you wouldn't get beaten up by neanderthals."
"Unreal. You just did it again. You could have challenged me on what pain
I could possibly feel that compares to yours, but you didn't even bother.
It's all about you."
I put my beer down and turned to look at him. "So I'm a shitty listener.
You're saying that's what caused the war?"
"It didn't help," he said. "Look, I don't know you. I don't know what
color underwear you wear, which bathroom you use, or who you like to
fuck. But I don't hate you. I hate what you represent."
"Do tell."
"I built my life on the granite foundation of some unshakeable truths.
Loyalty. Family. Love is good. Killing is wrong. God's in heaven, men are
men and women are women."
I scoffed. "Let me guess. Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, right?"
"You know, I might've come around. I knew guys like that. But then you
come around and tossed out all the rules. Men get to call themselves
women just because one morning they say they are? That's messed up."
"It's not that simple. And I didn't ask to be like this," I said. "I just
want--"
"--understanding. Yeah, I get it. But when you kicked over one of the
pillars of my beliefs, where was your understanding then?"
"So I shouldn't get to live my life just because you're not comfortable
with it?"
"I don't begrudge you living your life, but I do begrudge me and mine
having to rearrange our lives so that you can be your own unique
snowflake. I hate that you casually upend the rock-solid beliefs I built
my life around without so much as a by-your-leave just because you think
you've got it tough. Well, it's tough all over, sister. But what really
pisses me off is that you think you can just walk in here and think there
wouldn't be consequences just because some limp dick pols a thousand
miles away signed a piece of paper that says I have to put up with your
shit."
"If that's how you feel, why didn't you just let your friends kick the
shit out of me?"
"I wanted to," he said. "And it would have been satisfying. Hell, I
might've gotten a couple licks in, myself. But I'm tired of hate. Tired
in my bones."
We sat quietly for a few moments. I looked at the bar's vid screen and
noticed that the game was in product placement mode, and the players now
resembled characters from some escapist sci-fi franchise.
"Do you like movies?" I wondered.
"What?" He sounded annoyed.
"Did you ever see _The Matrix_ trilogy?" I asked. "The originals, not the
remakes."
He snorted. "What, the pre-war version made by the two trannys? You know
damn well that was on our ban list."
I didn't say anything and just took another sip of my beer.
"Yeah, I saw 'em," he admitted. "So?"
"I always thought it was funny how they ended. In most vids back then,
Neo would've blown up the machines, destroyed the Matrix and freed the
people. But the--" I hesitated, "--filmmakers foreshadowed how the humans
and machines needed each other even if they didn't like each other.
Because at the end Neo didn't fight to destroy the machines, he fought
for the chance to coexist in peace with them. Because he realized who the
real enemy was."
"What, that Smith guy?"
I nodded. "He was just raw hate. So driven by rage that he was willing to
destroy everything and kill everyone. The humans were at war with the
machines, but the real enemy was the hate."
He sniffed and took a drink. "I remember those movies with more shooting
and kung fu."
I smiled. "Maybe you're right," I said. "Maybe we went wrong when we
stopped listening to each other. I used to think you were all just
ignorant backward bigots."
"And now?"
I peered over my shoulder at the women behind me who were roughhousing
over a pool bet. "The jury's still out," I said. "And maybe you're not
all bad. I guess that's progress."
"Tell me twice. I just bought a tranny a drink," he said with a smile.
"Heh. All for a good cause, right?"
"Yeah," he said, casting an eye over at the other patrons. "Bar would
have gotten smashed up, my boys would be in cuffs, and you'd probably be
headed for that big gay drag show in the sky."
"I'd like to think I'd have gotten in a few good shots," I contended.
"What do I owe you for the beer?"
He glanced over at the arguing women. "You can pay me back by getting out
of here before they decide to pick a fight again. And maybe the next time
some meatheaded dub-Y wanders into one of your fern bars you can step in
and buy him a beer."
I gave him a lopsided grin and held up my glass. "Here's to fighting the
real enemy," I said.
"I'll drink to that," he replied.
We finished our beers and I left, and as I opened the door and squinted
into the late afternoon sun I realized I'd never gotten his name. But as
the door swung shut behind me I put on my sunglasses and headed for more
familiar haunts.
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