The Lottery
by Dianne Christy
I walked downstairs and went into the living room. As I entered,
I could see my Mom and Dad already sitting together on the sofa,
their faces turned towards the large screen of the TV. I looked
up at the clock over the mantle and saw that it was almost 7pm.
It was time.
My Mother looked over at me as I entered the room and stood up, a
worried expression on her pretty face. My Dad glanced at me once
and then turned back to the TV. The Lottery announcer was just
coming on and I moved over to the chair near the sofa and sat
down. I looked back at my Mom and she gave me a weak, reassuring
smile before sitting down next to my Dad. We all watched the
announcer as he started into the familiar speech I'd only heard
for the first time the year before.
"Good evening, fellow citizens. On behalf of the Department of
Population Enhancement and Control . . . and the President of The
Reunited States of America, I would like to welcome you to the
43rd Annual Lottery."
As the announcer began the familiar litany about the history of
the Lottery,I looked over at my Dad and saw that he was looking
at me with the same worried expression my Mother had given me. I
gave him a quick smile, attempting to reassure him and then
looked back at the screen.
Why were they so worried? I mean . . . weren't the odds vastly
in my favor? What was it I had read the year before . . . . oh,
yeah . . . the odds were something like 2000 to 1 against being
chosen. And last year, my first eligible year out of three (you
weren't eligible until you were 17), I wasn't even on the list
for the drawing. You see, before they hold the drawing each
year, a preliminary drawing is held to narrow down the field to
about 20,000 possible winners. I thought it a bit ironic that
they always declared you a winner if you were chosen. Some
prize!
Anyway, I remembered the way my Mom and Dad had acted the week
before when we were notified by the local Dept. of Population
that I was in the Lottery pool. Jesus, you'd have thought that I
would have been the one worried. But I just shrugged it off. I
mean, the odds were still way in my favor, right? But Mom and
Dad had fawned all over me for the past few days, trying to
convince me that it would be allright and that I surely wouldn't
be chosen. After all, I was their only child and it wouldn't be
fair, right? I think I spent more time calming them down than
they did me. Still . . . I was a little anxious and wanted the
drawing to get over with so everything could get back to normal
around here.
I looked back at the TV and concentrated on the announcer. He
was near the end of his speech about the history of the Lottery.
" . . . . and so it was decreed, in order to assure the continued
existence of not only the Reunited States of America, but of all
mankind, the devastating tools of our enemies, the very
technology that nearly caused the exinction of our fair land,
would be employed to guarantee our futures, to ensure that the
world would not be without the shining beacon of Democracy that
is our country. By unanimous decree from the Council of the
Senate and by order of the President for Life of These Reunited
States of America, all young men between the ages of 17 and 20
shall be eligible for the Lottery, which shall be held annually
on the anniversary of our victory over our foes."
I thought for a second about the rumors I'd heard a while back
about how none of the son's from the Council had ever been drawn
in the Lottery, but I didn't believe that they had been left out
because of the influence of their father's. I figured it was
just another rumor started by someone whose son had been drawn.
After all, there were plenty of families who never had anyone
from their relatives drawn. It was just the odds. But I knew
that no one would ever trace a rumor like that to see if it was
true. It was a capitol crime to interfere with the Lottery. It
was that important. That had been drummed into our heads since
the first day of school.
The announcer was almost finished with his speech.
" . . . . therefore, in accordance with the 67th Amendment to the
New Constitution of These Reunited States, and with the power
vested in me by the Director of the Department of Population
Enhancement and Control, I now declare the 43rd Lottery to be
open. May I remind each winner of today's drawing, you are
required to remain in your homes for a period of one hour after
the Lottery is over, or until the local representatives of the
Department of Population have released you from their custody.
Good luck to all of you."
He turned away from the camera and the screen went blank for a
moment. Then, the familiar list began to come up one the screen,
generated by the random selection computer as each district in
the country was given it's allocation of winners for that year.
Only winners in your own district were shown on your TV as the
Lottery progressed. I watched intently now as the list started
to appear on the screen. How many were there going to be in our
area this year? I thought I remembered reading that there would
be only 24 in our district this time. We'd been hit hard last
year with forty-three chosen. I guessed the population experts
thought we deserved a break this year. That meant there was
still about a 2000 to 1 chance against being drawn.
As the first couple of names, preceded by the 10 digital
registration numbers came up on the screen, I heard a click and
turned to see my Mother nervously lighting a cigarette. She
glanced momentarily at me as she blew a stream of smoke out from
between her red lips and then we both turned back to watch the
screen. I could see my Dad was puffing anxiously on his pipe,
trying to remain calm as the list of names continued to grow.
I watched the names as they came up. After the first two, I
looked only at the names and didn't pay any attention to the
Lottery Registration Numbers anymore. Soon there were eight
names up on the list and the screen was filled. It stayed there
for a few minutes as viewers were given a chance to double check
the numbers in case their son's name appeared and it was only a
another young man with the same name. I wondered how much chance
there was that another David L. Brewer would be chosen. I
fingered the registration card in my fingers and looked down at
my own number.
The shiny, indestructable, plastic card glared slightly in the
light. I could see my picture on the left. I hadn't been too
proud of it . . . my blond hair was a bit messy and looked
unkept. But then, I hadn't been too anxious to have my picture
taken that day over a year ago when I'd been required by law to
register on the last of school before beginning my Senior year.
I remembered the way all the guys in my class had joked around
nervously that day as we pondered the ramifications of the
registration. I remembered how, even after I was given the card
that very day, I was looking forward to the day, three years from
then, when I could throw the card away.
I looked down at the bold lettering of my name, my address and
District, and then at last to the evenly spaced numbers below.
'2 - 7 - 3 - 2 - 9 - 9 - 4 - 8 - 2 - 5'
My eyes were drawn back to the screen as the first eight names
flashed three times before they were erased to make way for the
next eight names. As the list grew to twelve, I recognized one
of the names. Jason H. Evers. Oh, No! Jason! He was one of my
friends at school! I could hear a small gasp come from my Mom.
I saw her slender hand fly up to her mouth, her long, shiny red
nails glistening from the light next to her as she looked at the
name. I'd had Jason over to the house many times over the last
couple of years.
My Dad looked at me and then back to Mom.
"It's allright, Dear. It might be another Jason Evers. It's not
that uncommon of a name. Just try and calm down. There's still
another twelve names to go."
He looked over at me and tried to give me a reassuring smile.
But I wondered. The odds against there being two Jason H. Evers
in our District . . . it was hard to say. Each District was
about the size of one-half of one of the original States from pre-
war times. And the population of each District was now only
about half it was before the war. It had taken nearly fifty
years to get it back to that many people. Damn those idiots for
using their biological, genetic chemicals anyway! It would have
been better if they'd just used conventional weapons and given
everybody an equal chance!
I looked back at the screen as the sixteenth name came up. I
breathed a sigh of relief as I saw mine wasn't there. Then,
after a couple of minutes, the flashing screen blinked three
times and then then last eight names came up.
It's kind of funny, looking back on it, . . . I didn't really
recognize the name until after my Mother had let out a choke and
my Father had stood up to face me. I couldn't help but wonder
why my Dad seemed so upset at the moment. Then, I let my glance
fall back to the screen and this time . . . it finally
registered. The name next to last one at the bottom of the
screen. Right above Thomas K. Williams. It was right there.
How could I have not seen it.
A bunch of numbers followed by . . . 'David L. Brewer'.
I looked at the name for alomost a full minute before I looked
over at my Dad. My mother was just sitting on the sofa, looking
blankly at the screen. My Dad was bent over the coffee table,
his right hand nervously writting something down on a piece of
paper.
I saw the screen flashing before it went blank and then looked up
to my Dad as the announcer came back on and started to speak.
"That concludes the 43rd Lottery, Ladies and Gentlemen. If you
need confirmation of any of the names or registration numbers,
please contact your local . . . . . "
My Dad was looking down at me as I sat there, nervously thumbing
the card in my fingers. I didn't want to look at the TV now. I
just wanted my Dad to tell me that everything would be allright.
I felt his hand brush against mine as he reached down and took
the card from me and then slowly held it up next to the paper in
his other hand.
I was still stunned as I heard him softly read the registration
number that he had copied from the list on the TV and compare
each number to my card.
'2 - 7 - 3 - 2 - 9 - 9 - 4 - 8 - 2 - 5'
He let the paper fall from his hand as he turned to my mother and
held her next to him as she gently cried on his shoulder. He
looked at me for a second as he tried to console her.
"Now . . now, Cheryl. We have to be calm. We always knew this
might happen. We have to be strong for Dave. OK?" He held her
chin up towards his face and gently kissed her on the forehead.
She looked over at me, her eyes swollen a little and somewhat red
and tried to smile. I still was a little behind what was going
on but it was beginning to sink in.
I stood up and walked over by the TV, looking down at it as the
announcer ended his speech.
" . . . . just remain in your homes until the authorities arrive.
They will be there in less than fifteen minutes. Remember . . .
resistance is a capitol crime. On behalf of the President, the
Council of the Senate, and the Director . . . I now declare this
Lottery closed."
Then the screen went blank. I stared at it for another second
and then saw my father reach down and shut it off. I looked up
at him and I saw something strange in his look. It was as though
he was looking at me differently than he ever had before. I
wasn't sure what it was . . . as though he was looking at me for
the last time. Well . . . I guess that would be right.
I noted how he was still a few inches taller than me. Though I
was sure I was going to reach his 6' 2" height soon . . . or
would have. Damn!! I'd been chosen in the Lottery!! Oh
Christ!!
As it really sunk in, I turned to my mother and saw her trying to
look brave. She came over to me and hugged me, her pleasant
perfume enveloping me. I tried to be brave and hugged her gently
back as it occured to me that the perfume she was wearing smelled
very comforting. She had always worn it since I could remember.
Before I could say anything, there was a sharp knock on the door.
I was startled and took a step back away from my mother as all of
us just stood there and looked at the front door. Then another
sharp rap and my Dad walked slowly over to the door and looked
back at me, his hand on the knob. My heart raced with fear and
anticipation. It struck me how quickly the authorities came to
see each of the 'winners'. They must have all been on alert
until each of the names had been drawn. That would explain how
they could get to each home so fast. I didn't know that the
names had actually been drawn an hour earlier than they were
shown on TV in order to give the officials time to be stationed
at each 'winners' home.
They obviously didn't want to give anyone much time to think
about trying to run. But everyone knew how futile that was. The
punishment for aiding anyone running was death and they forfieted
their own son's, if they had any, to the Department of
Population for immediate re-assignment. No trial . . no waiting
. . . it was just that fast!
My mother turned to me as my father opened the door and two men
came into the hallway. Each was dressed in a pair of white
coveralls and wore the insignia of the Department of Population
above their left breast pockets. They quickly turned to me and
stepped quietly, but quickly into the room.
The one on the right said, "David L. Brewer? Registration number
'2 - 7 - 3 - 2 - 9 - 9 - 4 - 8 - 2 - 5' ?"
I felt my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth as I began to
think of what was about to happen and my fear grew even stronger.
I couldn't answer and only nodded my head as the man took my
registration card from the coffee table where he saw it lying.
I watched as both of them ran my card through a small device the
man on the left held. After the device beeped three times the
man on the right spoke again.
"David. L. Brewer. You are declared a valid winner of the 43rd
Lottery. Please accompany us outside to our mobile unit for
verification of your identity."
I just stood there, unwilling to move . . still not quite sure
that this was really happening to me and then a second later I
was being led out the door to where a large, white van was parked
on the street. I could vaguley make out the figures of some of
our neighbors as they peered from their windows or stood out on
their porches. I felt embarassed that they should see me.
My mother was walking behind me, but I only caught bits and
pieces of what she said.
" . . . be allright, honey, . . . . . doesn't hurt, . . .
we'll be with you all the way, . . . oh my poor baby!" She went
on for a while until Dad came out from the doorway and brought
her back into the house.
I turned to see the door shut as the men led me up a small set of
stairs that hung down from the back of the van. As the rear door
opened, another, older man inside stood up wearing the familiar
garb of a physician. He was next to a large panel of electronics
that lined one wall. A narrow hospital bed was across from it.
I could feel my pulse pounding in my head now. I wanted to run,
but the grip on each arm tightened as we moved into the van and
the doors shut behind me.
The man inside walked up to me and raised another device towards
my head. I flinched backwards and cried out, "Wait!! It's . . .
it's all a mistake! I . . . . I'm not supposed to be here! It's
. . . it's not . . . "
The men holding me tightened their grip as I tried to back away
and the man in front of my smiled reassuringly as he said,
"Relax, David. This is an identity scanning device. I'm only
going to hold it up to your eye and let it read your retinal
imprint. If you're not the right person, it'll let us know. So
please, remain still."
I could see the red light eminating from the device as I was held
firmly in place while the scanning device was held near my left
eye. A moment later it beeped three times and the men holding me
let go and moved a few steps behind me.
The man in front of me looked closely at the monitor on the panel
to his right as the device signalled it's findings. Then, he
quickly lifted his left hand and a second later I felt a slight
pain in my right thigh as he lowered a small device that looked
like a pen. I looked at my thigh, but could see nothing. I
looked back up at the man as he read from the screen next to him.
"Confirmed. David L. Brewer. Registration and retinal scan
match. Proceed immediately with re-assignment."
I started to turn back towards the back of the van when I felt my
legs giving out from under me. A moment later, I was lying on
the small bed up against the wall and looking up at the man who
seemed to be in charge as I felt my shoes, socks, pants, and
shirt being removed. I couldn't talk or even blink! But I could
feel my heart racing a mile a minute!
"Relax, David.", the man said, his physicians smile never
wavering, revealing his practiced manner as he bent over me,
"It's only a sedative. You'll be fine in a few minutes. This
won't take long."
He turned away to the instrument panel behind him and as he did,
I noticed a clear, glasslike mold above me. Why hadn't I noticed
it before? It was in the shape of a body . . . or more like the
cover to a body that allows you to look in. As he pressed a few
buttons, the cover descended down until it was all around me.
Then, in fear and horror over what was about to happen, I finally
let out a small, feeble cry that echoed back at me from the clear
plastic.
"Please . . Nooo. . please . . . . . ple . . . " My throat
caught as I tried to cry out.
I could barely hear anything now. It was quiet under the glass.
Only my breathing came to my ears. Out of the corner of my eye I
saw the Doctor move around the instrument panel. I could see
monitors light up and displays come to life. In less than a
minute he turned back to me and nodded before moving back to the
panel and pressed one last button.
Then it was light.
Very light. As if the sun had come into the van and was looking
down at me. I felt like I was swimming in a sea of warm, moist
light. The van was gone. The men were gone. Everything was
gone . . . . except me and the light.
My eyes didn't smart or hurt at all. Yet the light was so bright
that I should have been blinded! I thought that I was floating
away, free from the van and free from the circumstances I had
found myself in. But just as soon as I felt as if I was going to
sleep in the warmth of the light . . . it was dark again.
I realized that my eyes were still open and I could see the glass
above me once again. The Doctors face was still above me,
looking down at me with the same, rehersed smile on his lips. A
moment later the glass went up and I could feel life coming back
to my limbs.
The Doctor nodded towards the back of the van and the two other
men came up next to me, helping me to sit up on the table. They
held my clothes and were attempting to help me into them.
As I became fully functional again, I meekly grabbed at the pants
one man was trying to put on me and stood up, pulling them on and
giving him a look that told him to let me do it myself. I hated
the thought of either of them touching me! I was confused and
didn't quite know what to think. I could see myself as I dressed
and no one said a word. What had happened? I felt fine now.
Nothing seemed to have changed. Was that it? I didn't
understand. I didn't know what to say.
As I buttoned my shirt, the back of the van opened and the Doctor
led me out and up the walkway to the front door of my house. I
could see my parents looking out from the partially opened door
and saw my Dad open it all the way as we walked inside. They
both looked at me with a strange, but comforting stare. We
stopped in the hallway, then the Doctor held out some papers to
my mother.
"Mrs. Brewer. Please keep him inside for the night. And please
read these documents carefully. Don't worry about a thing. He's
fine. Everything went normally. If you have any questions,
please call the number on the first page in the morning."
Then, as he turned to leave, he looked at me and said, "I suggest
you listen to your mother, David. She will help you through
this. Good night."
And that was it. As he closed the door behind him, I looked up
to my Dad and tried to say something reassuring to myself. I
couldn't believe it! Nothing had happened!!
"Dad! Look," I said as I stepped back from him and held out my
arms, "nothing happened! It . . . it must have been a . . . a
bad joke or something. Maybe it was a mistake! See? It's ok!
Nothing happened."
But the way my dad just shook his head and walked away towards
his den made me mistrust my own words. Something had happened.
I remembered the light. And what did I know about this whole
process anyway? People hardly ever talked about it.
I looked at my mom, who was looking over the first page of the
small pamphlet she'd been given. She looked up at me and I could
see a sympathetic look come over her. She smiled and took my
hand.
"Come on, honey. We need to go upstairs and have a talk."
I just nodded, still unsure of what was really going to happen to
me. I felt fine!
We went upstairs to my room and sat on the bed. I looked around
the room at the pictures and posters, feeling safe in my own room
now. Nothing could happen to me here. My mom sat next to me and
held my hand, her smooth, slender fingers feeling small next to
mine. My gaze fell onto my baseball trophy on my dresser. I was
proud of it and I knew my folks were, too. Then I saw the clock
next to it and stood up quickly in shock, unable to believe what
I saw.
I was 10pm!! I'd been out in the van almost three hours!! I
couldn't believe it!
I turned back to my mother and she motioned me to move over next
to her, a knowing look on her face. As I came next to her, she
cleared her throat and spoke softly, soothingly to me. Like she
had when I was a little boy.
"Dave . . . I . . . I know this is hard for you now. But believe
me when I say it'll get easier soon. I know. And you know why
I know." I looked into her face and I knew. I had always known.
Everybody knew. No one ever talked about it, though. It was
better that way.
"By morning, you'll be through with this and you'll understand.
But, just remember, the more you fight it . . . the worse it is.
You must let yourself go. Otherwise . . . ", she let her gaze
fall and then finished, "Otherwise it just brings pain and hurt."
She looked back up at me and I could feel the hot tears start to
stream down my cheeks. I knew!! Shit! I knew!! And I
couldn't stop it!! I just wanted to bury my head in her arms and
cry. Like I had when I was a kid!! I wanted her to make the
hurt and shame go away . . . but I knew she couldn't!
She held me as I choked back my tears and she patted my back. I
finally looked up at her and asked what I had to know.
"How . . . how long until . . . until it's . . . it's over?" My
voice cracked as I asked. I wanted . . . but didn't want to
know.
She smiled a little and answered, standing up and picking up the
pamphlet next to her. She looked down at them and read for a
moment before looking back at me.
"By morning. It happens while you sleep. You'll feel tired
soon, some kind of sleep drug given to you during the process to
help you get to sleep." She looked away from me as she finished.
"It'll be complete when you wake up."
I looked down at the floor, feeling strange and out of place. As
though I wasn't supposed to be here. Even in my own room. I
knew what I would be in the morning and I knew that every moment
between now and then was just a pause. I wouldn't be here soon.
I looked back up at her as she turned away again and I tried to
be brave, knowing there was nothing to do but wait. Well, at
least I could know what to expect.
"Would . . . would you help me . . . tell me about . . . . about
it? I . . . . I want to know." My voice cracked again and she
cried a moment before coming over to the bed and sitting next to
me. She wiped her tears away and smiled at me, obviously
resigned with the situation and knowing she could help me. At
least she could do that.
"Well . . . ", she began with a sigh, "I don't remember much
myself, but the pamphlet describes all of it if you want to read
it." She held it out to me and I took it from her.
For the next fifteen minutes, we read all five pages of the
government booklet. The first page described instructions for
parents use. A number to call for questions. When to go in to
get reimbursements for clothing and furnishings and . . . and
everything else. Everything to make the transition smooth and
complete. It even described where and when to get identity
papers taken care of. All very neat. All very proper and tidy.
I tried to picture myself in the scene it described, but
couldn't.
The next few pages just dealt with more history of the Lottery
and why it was used. But we both knew that. We skipped through
it and went to the last page. I took a breath in fearful
anticipation as I read in detail about the process itself. I
still couldn't believe it was going to happen to me!
It started with a brief history of the process and then told
about it in detail.
I read it slowly and carefully, feeling my anxiety rise with each
word. It read as follows:
"The technology used by the enemy in the BioGen Chem Wars left
our society devoid of females. The insidious nature of the
attacks was to ultimately deprive our race from perpetuating
itself. After the attacks were over, our scientists were unable
to rectify the genetic damage done to our reproductive organs.
As you know, we were doomed to extinction within a few, short
decades. All over the world, most remaining females left alive
soon died. And the very few that lived were unable to produce
female children. In a matter of a few years, all female humans
had vanished from the earth.
Though peace was established with our enemies, it would be a
short-lived truce. Soon, all human life would be gone forever.
It was only a matter of time.
Then, while working fervently and with time against them, our
scientists were able to perfect a method, ironically from the
technology our enemies had used against us, to rectify our
situation. Using the research from a defecting enemy scientist,
it was found to be possible to re-introduce females to our
species. Though the price was high, we are now able to continue
to thrive through the valiant sacrifices of our young men.
Simply stated, the young men selected by the Lottery are
genetically altered to become young women. Fertile women capable
of bearing children and ensuring the survival of our species.
The process, originally carried out in only a few laboratorys
throught the country, are now so perfected and refined, they are
carried out at the selectees residence withing an hour of
selection. The process has also been speeded up in order to
facilitate rapid assimilation into the community.
The selectee has already been exposed to the electro-chemical-
genetic process and will complete all phsyical modifications
after a minimum of three hours of REM sleep. The selectee was
given the proper drugs to induce this sleep within two hours
after the process was completed in the mobile re-assignment unit.
Because the process requires the rapid alteration of molecules in
the selectees body, the process ages the selectee three years
during the transformation. Due to the requirements of the
process, it has been found to be completely effective only on men
between the ages of 16 and 21. In the interest of perfection,
only males between the ages of 17 and 20 are selected.
The resultant physical attributes of each selectee are
genetically controlled to yield the most desireable features in
female anatomy. This not only serves to keep the self-esteem of
each selectee high, it contributes to the overall success in
attracting a mate in order to facilitate reproduction.
In order to control the behavior of the selectee after the
phsyical changes are complete, additional genetic modifications
are triggered after the physical modifications. These
controllers are inherent in the completed female and require the
woman to behave in a prescribed manner or severe discomfort is
experienced. The prescribed behavior is unconsciously followed
by the selectee. If a conscious effort is made to deviate from
the behavior, selective enzymes are released to induce severe,
flu-like cramps and chills. It is usually not triggered more
than a few times before the selectee ceases to resist and
assimilates normally into the proper role of women in today's
society. It should be noted that since this process has been in
use, there has been no further strife between the sexes in our
society.
Also, the process allows for the insertion of many, varied,
disease resistant genes, thereby making the woman and her
offspring immune to most diseases. The current estimate is that
all women and their offspring will live to be approximately 125
years of age. This figure now represents approximately 73% of
all citizens still living. As the process is continued over the
next fifty years, that figure will ultimately reach 100%. After
an estimated six generations of citizens produced using this
method is complete, it is hoped that women will be able to bear
female children capable of reproduction. At that time, the
current Lottery will cease, having outlived it's usefullness.
I put the pamphlet down and stared straight ahead. That was it.
I had already been altered . . . and in a little while, I would't
be able to stop myself from falling asleep and completing the
change. And then . . . . then . . . ?
I couldn't think about it.
I looked up at my mother . . . . my mother who went through this
some nineteen years ago . . . and just shook my head. In all my
experience, I had never thought that this would really happen to
me. I felt devastated.
My mother smiled weakly at me and stood up. She walked out of
the room and came back in a few minutes with her purse. I
watched as she entered the room, acutely aware of the fact that
she had once gone through this before. I wondered who she had
been when she was a he . . . and what my father had thought of
her, knowing that she had once been like him. I guess it was
just taken for granted. Now I could understand why no one ever
spoke about it much. It made it easier to live with.
As she took her cigarettes out of her purse and lit one, my gaze
took her in in all of her beauty. It never occured to me that
the reason she had such a shapely and supple figure was because
she had been made that way. I guess I had just never thought
about it. She moved in her typical, feminine, graceful way as
she turned towards me and it dawned on me that she was actually
forced to move that way! And I would be, too!
I felt my eyes smarting again as I began to think of all the
things I had seen other women do, too. The way they almost
always acted. Alluring, graceful, ultra-femininely, and always
flirting with the men, especially if they were single women!
Like I was about to become! I just shook my head and watched
the symathy in my mother's eyes. There was nothing I . . .
anyone could do!
My mother sat down next to me and gently stroked my arm, trying
to appear soothing.
"Don't worry, dear. It'll be allright. We'll all get through
this. By tomorrow, it'll be different. Don't be afraid. Being
a girl isn't all that bad. I've been very happy with your
father. You'll be happy, too. I just know it!"
She smiled warmly and I realized that she must have gone through
this, too. Sitting in her room, waiting to become a young woman
against her will. At the same time, I realized that she really
was happy . . . and always had been. Maybe I would be, too.
But the thought of actually being happy as a girl made me ill and
I shook it off.
I asked her a question that I'd had when reading the pamphlet,
not really wanting to hear the answer, but curiosity drove it
out.
"Mom? . . uh, . . do you remember what it was like when you woke
up the next morning? I mean . . . the pamphlet says that I'll
get ill if I don't act right. What . . . . what does that mean?"
She looked down, a pained expression crossing her face as she
remembered. Then she sighed and looked at me.
"Oh, honey. It's been so long, now. I . . . I didn't fight it
very long. It was very . . . very unpleasant at first. You find
yourself behaving in a way you feel is right, but you know is
wrong. When you try to act the way you remember acting before .
. . you feel . . . sick . Very sick. But it goes away as soon
as you stop resisting. I don't remember all of it. You . . .
you just find yourself doing things you never thought you'd do.
But after a while, it gets easier." Now she looked earnestly
into my eyes and continued.
"Oh, Dave! Please! Just let it happen when you get up tomorrow!
Don't fight it! It's not worth it and we'll know why your not
trying to act act like a boy! Don't put yourself through it just
to try and show us!! It's just not worth the pain!" She looked
away and I became even more frightened by the tone of her voice.
Would it be that bad?
Finally, unable to keep it back, I began to cry. Like a baby! I
felt so hopeless inside! They were turning me into a . . . a
girl!! And there wasn't anything I could do about it!
My mother drew me close to her and held me as I sobbed, gently
speaking soothing words to me and stroking my head.
At last, spent and tired, I stood up and went into the bathroom
attached to my room. I looked into the mirror as I washed my
face and tried to capture my reflection in my mind forever. I
felt like I could resist anything if I could keep my own image in
my mind long enough. They couldn't do this to me! My will
alone could stop it!
I towelled off myself and went back into my room. I saw my
father standing next to my mother. She had been speaking softly
and earnestly to him. I couldn't bear to look at him, knowing
that soon I would no longer be his son. Instead . . . instead I
would be his . . . his daughter!
I felt extememly tired now and knew it was the drug working on
me. As I swayed slightly, I saw my father move over to me and
grasp me by the shoulders, supporting me.
I looked up into his face, my fear and exhaustion all over me.
"Don't worry, son. It'll be allright. I understand." His face
showed compassion and love. I felt very close to him. "I'll
always remember what a . . . . a good son you've been." It was
hard for him to get the last words out and he hugged me before
lowering me onto my bed. Then he stood and walked out.
My mother moved over to me and helped me get into bed. She told
me to strip completely and I did as she asked, not caring why or
. . . or anything.
As I started to uncontrollably slip off to sleep, the last thing
I saw as a young man was my mother lingering in the doorway,
looking at me one last time before turning off the light and
shutting the door.
* * * * * * * * * *
When I awoke the next morning, I felt refreshed. I slowly woke
up, not remembering any dreams or disturbances in the night. My
eyes fluttered open slowly and for a few moments, I didn't
remember anything out of the ordinary. Then, slowly . . .
feeling that there was something I should remember . . .
something that was wrong with everything . . . it all came back
to me! The Lottery . . . the night before . . . everything!
My eyes flew open and I looked up at the ceiling. I looked
intently at it for a moment and realized that I felt fine. It
was fairly light in the room and I guessed it was around seven in
the morning. But . . . I felt fine!
As I started to sit up, anxious to see what my mind told me was
certain, that I had not changed during the night, I felt
something strange as my head lifted off the pillow. Something .
. . . something soft and feathery on my shoulders.
With my head half lifted from my pillow, I looked over at my left
shoulder to see . . . to see that it was covered with long, soft,
wavy blonde hair!
I gasped slightly for breath as my head fell back onto the pillow
and I realized that my head and neck were lying on a mass of
long, silky, blonde hair! I could even feel it's weight on my
head as I had lifted it! Oh, God! I really had changed!! My
heart fell and my spirits with it!
After a minute, I could no longer stand it. I lifted my head up
and looked at my shoulder again. The wavy, silken hair hung
femininely from my head and covered my shoulders. I gently
brought my right hand up from under the covers to brush it away.
As my hand moved over my chest, I felt it stop up against a large
, soft mound!! Ohhhhh, Gawwwwd! What was that?!
But I knew that answer even as my hand reached over to cup a
full, soft, firm . . . breast!! My head went back to the pillow
as I felt the womans' breast in my hand, on my chest spill out
from around the fingers that grasped it in horror!! Now . . .
knowing what it was, I could even feel their weight on my chest!
Slowly, looking up at the ceiling, not wanting to see, I reached
up with my other hand and felt my left breast. It, too spilled
over my hand, full . . . soft . . . firm! Oh, God!! I . . . I
had Tits!! Girl's tits!! I shook my head to each side, trying
to wish it away!!
The fingers of my right hand probed up over the top of my right
breast until they found a large, erect nipple! Then, as a
terrifying thought shook me, my right hand left the soft flesh of
my right breast and slid slowly over very soft, smooth skin on my
flat tummy and touched soft, curly hair at my crotch.
I prayed that I would find the familiar appendage with it's
fleshy sac below it, but as I had to reach further and further
downwards, past where it should have been . . . I knew what I
would find. A second later, my slender, soft finger found what I
feared. For a brief moment, I felt the tip of my finger press
into the folds of . . . . . of (Oh, Please, Nooo!) my vagina!!
Not only did I feel the soft, vertical lips of my new labia, I
could feel the entrance to my (Noooo!) vagina and the light, warm
moistness that lay there! And not only that . . . as my slender
finger had slid down my soft skin, I felt the slight scratch from
what must be long fingernails occasionally preceed it! Jesus!!
Even my nails had changed!!
As I jerked my hand back towards my face, I heard the soft gasp
escape from my lips. But . . . . even only as a light, soft moan
. . . I could tell that I no longer had my old voice, either!!
I involuntarily let out a low, "Oh, Nooo!", as my hand came into
view and I heard my new, girl's voice for the first time as my
eyes beheld my soft, smooth skinned, slender, woman's hand for
the first time. Complete with long, femininely rounded nails and
small, frail, fair skinned wrist!
My hand went to my throat at the sound of my new voice and was
met with the feel of a long, slender neck with no Adam's Apple
any longer!!
For a moment I thought I would go mad!! Oh, Gawwwwd!! It really
happened!! I had turned into a . . . . a girl!!! I was a . . .
a young woman!!
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to comprehend what .
. . . how . . . this had happened!! I wanted to die!! Why
me?!? Hadn't I been a good son?! What would people think?!?
What about my friends?!? What would they say?!? Oh, God!!
Please!! Nooooooo!
I found myself trying to think of a way out of my predicament
when . . . all of a sudden . . . I felt this urge . . . an
unwanted urge . . . to get out of bed. I tried to resist it . .
. but . . Oh, Shit!! . . . when I did I suddenly became
extrememly nauseus!! The sickening feeling was sooo awful that
I sat up in bed and placed my feet on the floor. As soon as I
did the pain was gone.
Oh, Nooo! The controlling pain my mother had spoke about!! It
was real!! It was working on me right now!!
As I sat on the edge of the bed I could feel the soft swaying
from my new breasts. I could actually feel their weight on my
chest! And I . . . I just felt smaller!! All over! My small,
delicate, feminine feet reached the floor a little differently,
with my legs lying flat on the bed. I was shorter!!
I looked down and finally saw myself for the first time. It was
soooo painful to see my new body! I . . . . I was a girl!!
I could see my firm, white breasts extended out in front of me.
Their large nipples sitting high and pointy on them. God! They
were so . . . so firm and . . . and big!! My gaze took in my
high, narrow waist, my shapely, womanly hips, the soft smooth,
girlish thighs and my long, shapely, smooth legs!! Oh, God!! I
couldn't stand it!!
My slender arms and narrow shoulders made me feel so frail and
the feeling of my long, soft, blonde hair hanging around my head
and down over my shoulders made me want to run and hide from it
all!!
But as these thoughts went through my mind, another wave of
illness came over me. It was awful and I immediately stood up
to make it go away. I just seemed to know that getting up and
going into the bathroom was the way to make it stop! I had to
act right or it would hurt!
As I took the first step towards the bathroom, I knew I was much
smaller than I had been. I guessed that I wasn't over 5'6" now.
And the way I moved! Oh, Jesus!! I couldn't help it!! I . . .
I was walking just like a girl would!! If I tried to stop it .
. . ohhhh . . . it hurt so bad!
With my shapely hips swaying, my limp wrist held femininely at
one side, I walked into the bathroom and turned to face the
mirror. I wish I hadn't.
Looking back at me was a . . . a pretty . . no . . . a beautiful
young woman!
My face! It . . . it wasn't my face anymore. Though I could see
a small resemblance to my former self, it was just too . . . to
pretty to be me anymore!
The long, honey-blonde hair framed my oval face in a very sexy,
feminine way. I looked at my soft, smooth complextion and saw
the high cheekbones, wide, almond shaped, blue eyes framed with
long, curved lashes. . . my new, small, pert nose, my narrow,
small chin, . . . and . . . and my new full , petulant, very
feminine mouth with soft, full lips and prominent cupid's bow on
the upper lip! Jesus! Even my eyebrows were thin, feminine
shaped arches that framed my beautiful, feminine eyes! And
there was absolutely no facial hair at all! Not a trace! Oh,
Gawwwd! I . . . I was sooo ashamed!
When I resisted the temptation, I felt ill again and finally
looked at the rest of my new body in the mirror as I backed
slightly away from it.
I looked at my breasts, standing proudly on my narrow chest.
Then at my waist, so small and high, then at my flared, womanly
hips and . . . and then at the blonde, triangular patch of downy
pubic hair that framed the outline of my . . . my new vagina!!
The long shapely legs below that didn't even phase me after
seeing my new . . . womanhood!!
Looking back at my face . . I also realized that I looked older
now. Like it had said in the pamphlet . . . I looked to be
around twenty or so. It was hopeless! I was a young woman now
and . . . and would be forced to act like one!
I felt the urge in me and when I tried to resist it again, I felt
ill. So I stepped over to the toilet and unconsciously sat down.
The feeling . . . ohhhh . . . I just can't describe it! Even the
tinkling sound seemed so alien! And when I was through, I didn't
even resist the need to wipe myself there with some TP while
still sitting! Oh, Please!! Somebody help me!
When I stood up, again I felt the sway from my breasts and I felt
the urge to . . . . to do something about it. Oh, God!! I knew
what it was! I . . . I wanted to put on . . . a . . . a bra!
Oh, Nooo! Please!!
But I also knew I didn't have a bra! But . . . but I couldn't
help wanting one!
Instead, not wanting to feel ill again, I let myself go . . .
just go and do whatever it was I had to.
I walked out of the bathroom and went straight to my closet. I
opened it and took out the blue robe hanging in there next to all
the men's clothes I knew I would never wear again!
I put the robe on, seeing the shoulders slump past my new,
narrow shoulders and tied it around my small waist. It was way
too big.
Then, as I turned towards the door to the hallway I realized what
I was about to do and again tried to resist. I didn't want
anyone to see me like this! How could I let my parents see me
like this?!
But, as the pain grew, I knew I had to! I gave in and in a
moment I was padding down the stairs towards the kitchen where I
could smell fresh coffee brewing. I was thankful I didn't see
anyone outside my room.
As I turned the corner into the kitchen, I steeled myself for
what I would see.
Amazingly, my father wasn't there. He must have left early for
work, not wanting to be there when I got up. I could definitely
understand that!
But the the look on my mother's face as I walked in was enough .
. . too much . . . for me to take!
As she stood, the shock registering on her pretty face, I felt
myself going to tears and moving quickly to her open arms, crying
girlishly into her shoulder, now slightly higher than my own
since she was wearing heels.
"Ohhh, my poor baby!", she soothingly said as she stroked the
back of small head, "It's OK, honey. It's allright. Don't be
afraid. Here . . . let me get a good look a my pretty, new
daughter!"
She pressed me back slightly as I stood looking up into her eyes,
my tears hot on my soft cheeks and my urge to be near her growing
stronger.
She looked me up and down and then . . . obviously she had
already planned to put the initial shock of this behind us as
quickly as she could . . . she smiled and said, "Oh, honey!
You're just as pretty as a picture! Don't be ashamed. I love
you all the more, now. Now . . . now you and I have something
very special in common. We'll be as close as a mother and
daughter can be. You'll see! It'll be fine! You're very
beautiful and I'm sure everything will be just fine!"
She kept it up for a while until I finally gave in to the urges
growing in me and smiled up at her, saying, "Oh, Mother . . . do
you think so? I . . . I'm so afraid! I . . . I want everything
to be allright. Will . . . will you help me?"
Though I was inwardly shocked at my high-pitched, soft, girlish
voice, I didn't resist the temptation to speak to her like that.
It just hurt too much to hold back! I . . . I'd even called her
"Mother"!
She smiled and reached up to my face, wiping off the tears and
said, "Oh, sweetheart, don't you worry about a thing. We'll be
just fine. Now you sit down at the kitchen table while I get us
some coffee. We've got a lot to do today!"
I smiled again and sat down, noting how I unconsciously smoothed
the robe under my girlish thighs as I did, just like a woman
would. My legs crossed at my knees and I found myself feeling
much better when I didn't resist. But inside, in my mind, I
still felt my shame and embarassement. I was sitting at my own
table, with my mother . . . and I was a girl!!
She came over with a cup of coffee for me and I found myself
admiring her blue dress. The way a woman admires another woman's
clothes. I caught myself, but didn't try to stop it, knowing the
pain would come if I did.
I guess she could see my stare and knew what I was thinking.
"Ohhh," she said, her face showing her concern, "don't worry,
honey. I'm sure we'll find something suitable for you to wear
today. I was planning on us doing some shopping later on this
morning. We still have alot to do to get you settled and your
father is picking up your clothing and furnishings allotment
today on the way home from work. But he left us plenty of money
to do some shopping with to get you started."
I found myself smiling at her and then sipped at my cup. Without
thinking, I'd held the cup femininely and gracefully as I brought
it up to my full lips. I knew there was no stopping it! I was a
girl and I was going to have to act like one! Unless I wanted to
feel . . . to feel the pain.
As my mother sat down across from me and sipped her coffee, I saw
her pensive stare and waited for her to say what was on her mind.
"You know, dear. We still have a little problem to work out."
I looked questioningly at her and asked, "What is that, Mother?"
That voice again! How could I sound so . . . so girlish?
She smiled and said, "Well . . . I mean . . . what are we going
to call you? I mean . . . we can't very well call you David, .
. . right?"
She was right. I hadn't even thought about that. In my mind . .
. though I knew I was now a girl . . . I still thought of myself
as Dave. David Lawrence Brewer.
"I . . . I guess you're right, Mother." I involuntarily said,
"But . . . but what . . . how are we . . . we supposed to change
my name?"
"Well," she said thoughtfully ,"the pamphlet said that we are to
select a new first and middle name and then give it to the
officials over the phone today so that your identity papers will
be ready tomorrow. Have you thought of anything yet?"
Of course I hadn't.
"No, I . . . I really hadn't even thought about it."
She smiled and looked a little excited. I knew that she had!
"Well . . . I thought about it last night and . . . and I talked
to your father about it. We thought . . . that is I thought and
he agreed . . . that you should use a name that has the same
initials as your old name. What do you think?"
I really didn't think about it, but smiled and nodded. I would
let her name me . . . just like she had when I was born.
"How about . . . Diana . . . Diana Lynette Brewer?" She seemed
pleased with her choice and I found myself cringing inside at the
name. I . . . I didn't want to be called by a girl's name but
found myself unable to resist it without getting sick!
Instead . . . I smiled broadly and said, "Oh, Mother! That's
sounds great!"
She smiled back and said, "Oh . . . I'm so glad you like it,
Diana! I think it's such a lovely name! Diana Lynette it is!"
I smiled again and took another sip of my coffee.
She stood up and went over to the counter and brought back the
pot, refilling our cups. When she came back, she was carrying
her purse and as she sat down, she opened it and took out her
cigarettes. I watched as she lit one of the long, slim white
cigarettes and blew out a long stream of white smoke from between
her lips while gracefully holding the cigarette between her
slender fingers in a very feminine way.
That's when it dawned on me! I . . . . I felt . . . I felt the
need! Oh, Christ!! I knew what it was! Just as I knew that I
needed to wear pretty dresses and heels and make-up . . . I knew
that I had been programmed to . . . to smoke cigarettes!
It was very clear in my mind! If only I'd known how and why.
What I didn't know was that when our government had first begun
the Lottery, they had made sure that the economic success of
certain industries was looked after. Those industries had
lobbied hard to make sure that they would not fail. Every woman
owned lots of clothes and wore make-up and owned jewelry and . .
. and almost all of them smoked! They only smoked the long,
slim cigarettes made especially for them!! That's how the
tobacco industry had gotten back on it's feet after the wars!
And since the process of changing us into women had given us a
resistance to most diseases, they used that fact to their own
benefit! And the cash they generated from that had helped put
our country back it's feet.
I knew in my mind that I wanted to own lots and lots of
clothes and that I would always use make-up and wear jewelery
and . . . and . . . but I didn't . . . . couldn't know why. I
was programmed that way! It's seemed so . . so unfair! They had
even made it impossible for me to resist it or complain about it!
I couldn't even talk about it with my mother! I knew I'd get
deathly ill if I did!
So . . . feeling my inner embarassement, but appearing as natural
and calm as if I always had, I smiled at my mother as she blew
another stream of smoke from between her shiny red lips.
I looked at her purse and for an instant resisted. But the
overwhelming nausea made me blanch and I stopped. I smiled at
her and asked, "Mother, could I please have one of your
cigarettes?"
Instead of the shocked look I expected, she just smiled and
handed me her pack of Virginia Slims and her lighter, saying, "Of
course, Diana. Oh, there are just sooo many things we're going
to have to get you that I don't even know where to start!" She
laughed and I smiled as I took one of the long, white, slim
cigarettes from her pack and held it femininely between the tips
of my long, slender fingers, as if I had smoked all my life!
I just couldn't stop or resist, afraid of the pain, as I brought
the slim filter gracefully . . . femininely, up to my lips and
then lit my cigarette. Surprised that I didn't even feel any
irritation, I drew lighty on the cigarette and then gracefully
pulled it from my lips and inhaled the smoke. I found myself
holding my cigarette just like my mother, femininely, gracefully
up and off to one side of my head, my elbow resting on the table
as I exhaled a column of white smoke up and to one side. Jesus!!
I could even feel the need inside me being met! I was already
an addicted cigarette smoker without ever having smoked before!
My mother smiled at me, fully aware that there was nothing I
could do to stop myself, and acted as if nothing was wrong.
Thank God at least for that! She was doing all she could to
ease my embarassement over my predicament and though I couldn't
say so, I appreciated it. If only I had control over myself!
* * * * * more to come * * * * *