The Sex Gates Read online

  “Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense.” Again, I was speaking without thinking, and my words came out sounding harsher than I intended. Still, an uneducated person living from hand-to-mouth might be tempted to believe that a superior being is watching over them and directing their lives, but Rita is well educated, and living in relative comfort. In fact, her parents in California are fairly wealthy.

  “I'm open-minded about the possibility. There's no proof either way. I like to believe there is some purpose behind all of this."

  No, there was no proof. Nonetheless, I didn't believe in a personal God, or in any entity guiding our fates, for that matter. If there is a God taking care of us, he sure picks peculiar ways of doing it. Rita and I had had this argument before. She was a loving person who wanted to help others, and I think that fact made her want to believe that some higher power worked for the good of everyone and maybe even intervened in human affairs. Still, she didn't subscribe to any particular religion; her faith was more like the New Age beliefs of years past that all would eventually work out for the best. Thank God (yes, I do invoke the deity when swearing—a cultural habit) for small favors.

  “Even if there is no proof, I don't think there is any purpose behind this universe. Everything is random."

  Rita looked stubborn. And I have to admit in most ways she understood human nature better than me. She pointed at the screen where long lines were beginning to form in front of one gate. “I bet lots of people will believe the gates came from God, especially those who are still arguing that Christ will return soon even though the Millennium is behind us now."

  She had a good point. The Christians were still claiming the end of the world was at hand, even though the Millennium was years in the past. As it turned out, she was prophetic, though none of us there, or anywhere else for that matter, foresaw the religious uproar that the appearance of the gates would cause.

  “Why do you think that gate shouldn't have been bombed?” Don asked me. I tried to meet her gaze, but I couldn't look at her face for long. I still couldn't think of her as Don, my friend. Every time I heard her clear soprano voice, my first thought was to look around and check out the new girl.

  Getting sidetracked on the subject of God had given me time to consider the reasons behind my impromptu outburst. “Think about it. Whoever or whatever sent the gates is clearly superior to us. They must have a reason and purpose in mind. These gates are some kind of test, maybe. If we get belligerent and start attacking them, they may decide we are too dangerous to let live, and start fighting back."

  Rita got up to open another bottle. Unfortunately, there wasn't any more Texas Valley. I keep the bar stocked, but not that well. She found some California Chablis and opened that. I think she was enjoying our reactions and conversations, maybe even planning a psychology paper: First reactions of a random group of college students to appearance of the sex gates, with interaction of one male-to-female interposed or something along that line. I love Rita, but even then I thought she sometimes went a little overboard with her psychology. I've taken a couple of psych courses, and as far as I'm concerned, it runs a close race with economics as the most inexact science.

  Don's Nohang pill had worn off, or more probably it couldn't handle all the wine we were drinking. She was becoming more and more animated and seemed to be less aware of the fact that she was a male inhabiting a female body. I still kept my distance, though, while at the same time feeling ashamed of my squeamishness around her. By now I was almost certain it was Don sitting there as a female. She had too many of his mannerisms and memories and speech habits for it to be otherwise, unless the aliens controlling the gates had stolen her memories and plunked them into new body.

  And even if that were the case, what was the difference? It would still be Don, like in the science fiction stories where complete personalities are recorded, converted to electronic data, and then booted into a high-capacity computer.

  I was finally and completely convinced when one of the web casts we were watching was interrupted. (It was showing a huge crowd waiting outside the Vatican for the pope to come out. Rumors had spread over the web that he was getting ready to declare a miracle.)

  “...reliable analysis from several sources confirms what many of us have already suspected. When the gates change a person's gender, they emerge looking the way they might have developed had they been born of the opposite sex. Gene analysis proves that the same person who goes into a gate comes out. Only the sex determinate chromosome is replaced. Still unanswered is how or why the transformation process takes place, though it is almost certain from these reports that all disease-producing alleles, both dominate and recessive, have been eliminated and replaced with normal genes. Stand by now for a statement from the pope."

  But the pope never did come out that day, even though the crowd grew to huge proportions. Other religious figures did. Some were for the gates, some against, but I'll get to that later.

  Though my memories of that first day and night are still sharp and clear, it's hard to convey the crazy, mixed-up emotions of those first stunning hours. What still amazes me is how soon the world accepted the presence of the gates. (Not their reactions; those were as varied as the colors of an art program.) The four of us stayed up all night watching and listening and drinking enough wine to float a yacht.

  More facts emerged, coming in bits and pieces, mostly reported first on web sites, though the old networks did themselves proud, I thought. They suspended all commercials while they did their best to keep the news rolling. If you don't know what a commercial is, look it up in the history books. It's too complicated to explain here.

  As the hours passed, we learned the facts that would affect our lives in dramatic ways in the years to come. The good news was that every single person emerging from the gates came out with a young, perfectly healthy body no matter how old or sick they were when entering.

  Soon, however, we began to hear bad news: Some went in and didn't come out, even the first time. No one had yet made it through twice. A pattern began to emerge. The older and/or sicker a person was, the less chance they had of re-emerging. Almost anyone could make it through up until the age of about seventy, so long as they were in fair health. But after that the chances declined. At eighty or so the odds were about fifty-fifty and fell off rapidly after that. Illness lowered the probability of a successful transition; the sicker a person was, the less chance they had.

  Children could go through the gates, too. Already some parents were pushing through children who were sick with incurable illnesses. The despairing parents were willing to accept the gender change in order to save their lives. Most made it; as I said, age was a factor.

  As the hours of that first incredible day wore on, no one going into a gate a second time came out, and eventually most stopped trying. I could see the hope fading in Don's eyes, hour by hour, as this fact became clearer. It was beginning to look like he was stuck as a woman.

  The gates were impervious to any form of attack. Even an atomic bomb exploded by a Shanghai warlord did no damage. When the smoke cleared, there was the gate, sitting green and shiny at the bottom of a new crater.

  In many places, police and military personnel were forced to abandon all attempts to control access to the gates. There were simply too many of gates, thousands upon thousands, to guard, and most were located in densely populated areas. By the end of the week, in the United States, at least, the only gates still guarded were those reserved for study by scientists.

  Looking back from years later, it could be that I am misunderstanding the motives of the governments of that era. In those days, democracies still existed. In those countries, the people made their voices heard, particularly older people who almost immediately realized the gates could offer them renewed youth and health. Perhaps it was public opinion that forced the governments to withdraw the guards, though there is no way to be sure. It doesn't matter now anyway.

  We stayed up all night and into the next day.
I tried to send out to McDonald's for breakfast, but their delivery service wasn't operating. Russell was the only one of us with any cooking skills worthy of the name, a peculiar talent for a physicist major. He scrambled eggs and fixed toast.

  We were almost done eating when the president came online again. I zapped the table back into its overhead recess, and we sat back down to hear his speech.

  Unfortunately, Forbes said more or less what he had told the country the day before, including the fact that scientists were still trying to communicate with whatever aliens were responsible for the gates. He assured us that the government would soon announce a policy for dealing with the gates. (How the government was going to form a policy when we didn't know where the gates came from, how long they would be around, why they were here, and who or what was controlling them wasn't mentioned.) After that, he proclaimed a national holiday, and pleaded for everyone to go back to work the following day.

  Well, that part made sense. If people didn't get back to work, the whole economy would go into free fall.

  Watching these dramatic events unfold over two screens was mesmerizing, but a body can stay awake only so long. Besides that, we were out of wine. I yawned, loud enough to drown out the screen voices for a second.

  Rita sat up from where she had been half-dozing against my shoulder. Given the panic surrounding the appearance of the gates, I wanted her to stay with me where I knew she was safe. Besides, she was already spending several nights a week sleeping at my place and kept some clothes in my closet. Moving in was the next logical step. Now, I expected the appearance of the gates would make that happen.

  “I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm ready for some sleep.” She stretched her arms over her head and wriggled her shoulders.

  “Me, too,” I agreed. “If the world comes to an end, wake me up; otherwise, we'll see you later."

  Don got to her feet and swallowed hard. I could tell she didn't like the idea of being alone without the TV or other people to distract her from the unpleasant reality of her strange new body.

  Russell noticed, too. “Hey, I'm going to stay up a little while longer and watch some more news, maybe fall asleep in front of the screens."

  Relief filled Don's eyes. He sat down again.

  * * * *

  The way I had my house arranged at that time, it consisted of an entrance alcove, then a big circular area known as the great room, containing loungers, chairs, and the bar and kitchen, with the four bedroom/baths radiating out from it. Russell and Don each had a room. Of course, Rita and I slept together. The last bedroom was used as a study.

  “God, I'm tired,” Rita said as she closed our door. She stretched again. “What a day. This will be something to tell our grandchildren about."

  “If we have any."

  “What!"

  We had agreed to have a couple of kids one day. I laughed. “The gates. Today they're changing the gender of people who want to go through them. Tomorrow we might be required to march through one.” My mouth was running away with my brain again.

  “And if you were turned into a woman, you wouldn't want to have my babies, is that it?” Her words held a challenge.

  Now there was a thought that had never entered my mind. Me have a baby? Me become a woman? No way! I stood speechless, shirt dangling from my hand.

  Rita continued undressing. She discarded her blouse and sat down on the bed to pull off her jeans. Usually, this process absorbed my entire attention, but tonight I realized I needed to think of an answer that wouldn't make her mad.

  She looked at me. “Well?"

  “Just kidding.” I tried a smile.

  Rita stood up and stepped out of her panties. She scrutinized me from head to toe, like a butcher examining a side of beef. She smiled. “I wonder what you would look like as a woman? I bet you would be cute."

  “I doubt it, and I don't want to ever find out.” I wasn't a particularly good-looking man, and as a woman I might be downright ugly. I had rust-colored hair and my eyes were the faded blue of old blue jeans. That's not even considering how clumsy I was. Don had trouble walking as a woman; I would probably have to crawl around.

  Rita raised a dark black eyebrow. “I still think you would be cute, maybe even pretty, but never mind. Let's go to bed."

  That suited me. One look at Rita naked made me eternally grateful to be a man. I decided I would rather die of old age than ever go through a gate, even if they were still around when I got old enough to worry about the decision.

  Rita snuggled up against me, resting her head on my shoulder with her soft breasts pressing against my side. Ordinarily that's enough to get me going, but for once I wasn't in the mood. I felt drained. She probably felt the same way because after a few minutes her breathing became slow and regular.

  Just as I was dozing off, I thought I heard someone cry out in surprise in the great room. I couldn't tell for certain if it was Don or Russell because of the soundproofing, and I was too sleepy to worry about it. A moment later I was snoring alongside Rita.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  I woke up late that evening to the sound of the shower running. I tossed back the sheet and sat up. That's when my head banged against a brick wall. Too much wine and not enough sleep equals one hell of a hangover.

  I fumbled in the drawer of the bedside caddy and found a Nohang pill, while wishing I had thought to take it before going to bed. I swallowed the pill. A jabbing pain in my temples made me decide to take another one. My stomach rumbled a protest, but the pills stayed down. I reached back in the drawer for cigarettes and couldn't find any. From the taste in my mouth, I concluded I had smoked all that I had on hand. Oh, well, I was trying to quit anyway.

  I stripped off my shorts and carried them into the bathroom. I must have pissed out a quart of wine while listening to the sounds Rita was making in the shower. I gargled with some Listerine plus. I knew brushing my teeth would make me gag. What wine hadn't come out one end would spout from the other. I slid the far end of the shower door open and stepped inside.

  Rita stood naked under the showerhead with her thick lustrous hair slick with water and plastered against her neck. As sick as I felt, I still enjoyed the sight. She is small and petite, so she makes me feel tall and muscular despite my lean frame. As she twisted her upper body to soap herself, I caught a glimpse of her small tan nipples erect from the lukewarm water. Her breasts were almost as tanned as the rest of her body; you could see that she often swam topless. She had a small waist and slim hips. A narrow strip of pale skin formed the outline of the thong she wore when sunbathing in public.

  I slipped my arms around her waist and reached up to cup her breasts. Suddenly, I felt much better. The Nohang was beginning to work.

  Rita shivered with pleasure. “I didn't think you would be feeling so spry this morning."

  I nuzzled her neck. She turned around to face me, and I ran my hands up and down her back. “Neither did I a few minutes ago."

  She helped me wash. We toweled each other off and hurried back to bed. Rita isn't like some women I've known. She's always ready for sex and never loathe to experiment. I don't know if her psychology studies had anything to do with it, but they might have. I know my parents’ generation was prudish about engaging in intercourse with multiple partners because of sexual diseases. If you can imagine it, people in the last century actually risked their lives when they made love. But in the last few years, medicine has eliminated that problem. Nowadays, psychologists are encouraging engaging in sex as a way to get to know a person.

  Rita treated me to a few quick lubricating licks, and then slipped me inside her. She stretched out on top of me and began moving her hips while propped on her elbows. She moved slowly at first, then faster. Her breasts rubbed against my chest as her pelvis moved. I watched as her nipples hardened to tight little points and lifted my hands to stroke the greater softness beneath.

  Her hips moved faster and
faster, and I exploded inside her. She cried out and collapsed over me, shivering and mouthing short little moans of pleasure.

  When she felt me softening, she rolled off and went back into the bathroom. I got up and called up the weather on the bedroom screen. The front had stalled, then dissipated. It was warm outside. I gathered up fresh jeans and a shirt and pulled them on, not bothering with a jacket. Rita came out dressed in a pink spring toga with one shoulder left bare. She slung her bag while I picked up my phone and hung it from a loop of my jeans.

  Don was already up when we came out. Seeing his female body again was a shock. I'd half talked myself into believing I'd dreamed the whole thing. But there he was, or there she was, I should say. Russell wasn't with him.

  “Is Russell still sleeping?” I asked.

  Don pointed to a note on the table. Gone to the lab. See you later. Russ. I wondered what he thought he could accomplish there, although I knew his advisor would come up with something for him to do. Physicists were going to go crazy trying to figure out the gates.

  Don was dressed in a baggy pair of shorts and a pullover, but the loose clothes did nothing to conceal her figure.

  “I hope you're doing okay this morning.” I tried to sound casual. I was still getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I saw Don's hot new female body. The clothes she was wearing today bothered me because it looked as if she—still a “he” to me—wanted to look feminine. Why else would she wear shorts and show all that luscious leg.

  Don glanced at Rita, a pleading look in her eyes. “I was thinking about going out today and getting some female clothes. But I have no idea where to start."

  That seemed strange to me. I knew Don hated to shop as much as I do. And why go shopping today, of all days? He caught my quizzical expression. “Well, I can't keep wearing baggy shorts and pants for the rest of my life. They're too large for me anyway, and they don't fit right."

  Well, why not? I kept that thought to myself and looked down at the floor to hide my reaction. I couldn't picture Don in the women's section of a store selecting skirts or togas. Or picking out panties and bras. Well, panties, anyway. She wasn't wearing a bra.