The Sex Gates Read online

  “...obvious that if enough of the elderly opt to change their sex and become young again, their Social Security checks will have to be cut off; otherwise the government will run out of money soon. Also..."

  “...and think about this: the world is already under tremendous population pressure. Now the elderly can choose to stay with us in new bodies. And how can we possibly feed everyone if these new young men and women decide to have babies?"

  “...enough jobs to support them all. Unemployment already..."

  They blabbed on and on. Everyone was alarmed by the changes the gates were bringing, but there was no way to control them. There were simply too many, all over the world.

  If the social order was upset in a liberal country like America, you can imagine what was happening elsewhere. In a broadcast from a conservative Middle Eastern country, we saw crowds of veiled women in traditional black chadors trying to break through to a gate. A ring of angry men held them back. While we watched, the number of women swelled. A few minutes later, they swarmed over the guards and surged up to the gate. In the crush, some were pushed into the gate and blinked out of existence. The camera moved to the other side of the gate and we saw naked men bursting into view like commuters scrambling out of a levitrain. They stumbled, fell, got up and fled in all directions, chased by shouting men waving sticks.

  Rita cheered. “Good for them! I hope they get away. They can infiltrate the ranks of those fanatical fundamentalists and turn their world upside down. Maybe they'll even push some Arab men through a gate and then force them into one of those damn black tents. See how they like it!"

  I hadn't realized Rita was a feminist. Or maybe she wasn't. I wondered how I would feel if I had to wear those hot black clothes and veil and be sequestered away from everything important. I couldn't imagine it, but it did make me think of one thing the commentators hadn't touched on. Because men and women are treated equally in America, we tend think that the same must be true in the rest of the world. It doesn't make any difference how many times you see evidence to the contrary or whether you're a man or a woman. Like racial prejudice, you can't understand it until you are on the receiving end. I thought Rita's outburst was a spontaneous reaction to the scene we'd watched, plus her own knowledge of the terrible way Muslim religious fanatics treated females. But I was wrong. I soon heard another web report. Some bright webster had gathered enough statistics to show that a lot of middle-aged women were choosing to go through the gates, even here.

  “Why do you think that's happening?” I asked Rita.

  “If you don't know, I can't tell you."

  “Why not?"

  “You wouldn't understand. Let it go for now."

  I shut up, but I didn't stop thinking about it. Were there that many women who didn't like being female? Or was there some other reason?

  I got up and rummaged in the cooler, looking for something simple to munch on before bedtime. There wasn't much there; a few days of staying glued to the screen had depleted supplies.

  “I'm going to the store to get us something to eat. Anyone else want to tag along?"

  “I'll go.” Donna stood up.

  I had expected Rita to offer to go with me. Donna's offer was a surprise. I started to tell her I could manage, but then I saw a warning look in Rita's eyes. I was supposed to be treating Donna like an old girlfriend.

  “Okay, thanks, Donna.” I pulled out my automatic and chambered a round, then clicked on the safety and put it back in my pocket. Donna raised an eyebrow.

  I shrugged. “Just a precaution."

  “Bring back some more wine,” Rita called as we walked out the door. She winked at Donna, making Donna blush. Some secret female signal, no doubt. I closed the door and clicked on the security system.

  The streets were deserted, but it was getting late and they might have been anyway, gates or no gates Fortunately, it wasn't far to the neighborhood Quickshop. During the last energy crisis, neighborhood stores had made a comeback.

  We walked along side by side. I tried to stay a little in front so I wouldn't have to watch Donna's breasts bounce with each step.

  “Lee, I want to thank you for coming to my rescue when I tried to help that poor girl back at the gate,” Donna said.

  “No problem. But why did you try? You might have been really hurt."

  “It was an impulse, but I'd do it again if I had to."

  “Why?"

  “Sympathy, I guess."

  “You didn't even know her."

  “Yeah, but it seemed like she was a sister of sorts. You know?"

  “Oh. Sure.” Made sense. They'd both experienced the change.

  “I'm not sure you do.” Donna turned her head to stare at me. “You can't understand what it's like to have a man's mind in a woman's body. I can barely cope myself.” She hesitated, twisting her hands together before continuing. “For instance, you're avoiding my eyes. Do you think I'm going to come on to you?"

  Was that what had been making me so uneasy around her? I didn't think so. It was just ... oh, hell, I didn't know what it was, but certainly not that.

  Donna saw my troubled expression. “Relax, Lee. I may have a woman's body, but I still have a man's mind. You know?"

  “But Russell! Last night, after Rita and I went to bed, I heard...” My big mouth again.

  Suddenly, Donna blushed. “What did you hear? No, don't answer that.” She looked away and we walked in silence for about a block, then she spoke again. “I guess you heard me cry out in surprise. Russell and I were talking about what sex might be like as a woman and I let him touch my nipples. I had no idea the sensation would be so intense. But that's as far as we went."

  Now it was my turn to squirm. “You mean you and Russell are ... Never mind. None of my business.” I wasn't used to talking to a strange woman about sex. I felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  Donna forced out a laugh, but there was no humor in her eyes. “It's weird having the mind of a man and the desires of a female body, I'll tell you that much. I let curiosity get the best of me, probably because I had so much wine last night."

  “I'm surprised Russell went along. I didn't know he was inclined that way."

  “He's not—not interested in other men, that is. I do have a beautiful female body, after all.” She smiled but it was a painful smile. “I guess you could say he only wanted me for my body. He was trying to help me get used to being a woman, then what with all that wine we sort of got carried away. Besides, it was a scientific thing to do—or so we thought at the time."

  “Be damned.” That was all I could think of to say, but I couldn't help wondering what it had been like. The sensation of feeling your nipples touched for the first time must be unforgettable. A part of me almost envied Don the experience he was having. The rest of me was damn glad he was the one who had rushed into the gate first.

  Donna continued on, as if she were still my old male friend. “The longer I stay in this female body, the more sexual desires are surfacing. I can almost feel the hormones working on my mind, making me want to do things I never imagined. And I am beginning to suspect that sex is very different for a woman than for a man. When I was a man, I never thought about that."

  I recalled my sexual encounters with Rita. Sure, I noticed when she had an orgasm, or when she was excited and how and where she liked to be touched and stroked, but it was all like feedback while playing at a virtual arcade. You relate almost entirely to the sensations you're feeling and never consider how the game characters might feel while getting excited or hurt or mad. Of course, the characters aren't real, but that's my point. Have you ever wondered what your partner in a virtual sex scene is experiencing? Of course not. You're too involved with your own sensations. I wondered if women felt the same way. Something else came to mind. I didn't know exactly how to say it.

  “Uh, Donna do you think you'll ever try to have sex all the way, you know?"

  I stole a glance sideways at Donna's face. She was frowning.
>
  “Do you mean will I ever try sleeping with a man? Christ, Lee, I don't know. Right now I can't imagine wanting to do it with a man, but I haven't been a woman very long. And if I don't want to stay celibate for the rest of my life, what choice will I have? Those damn gates are only one-way, for now, anyway. So ask me again in a few months."

  I was glad to hear that she wasn't considering the idea right now. It made me feel a whole lot better.

  * * * *

  The liquor store was still open, and we stocked up on munchies. We decided to wait until daylight to shop for more substantial food. The clerk kept giving Donna the eye while we waited for my phone to connect with the store's computer. It made me wonder if he were gay until I came back to earth. Ordinarily, it should have taken only a few seconds for my phone to mesh with his computer but minutes passed before it finally confirmed that I was solvent.

  “It's been slow all evening.” The clerk scanned the length of Donna's figure.

  Donna smiled. “No problem."

  We picked up our packages and left. I could feel the clerk watching Donna as we walked out the door. Once outside and out of hearing, she laughed, her voice shaky. “That's going to take some getting used to. I felt like a piece of meat hanging on a rack—a naked piece of meat."

  I wanted to go back and punch that clerk. He had no business staring at her like that.

  * * * *

  We got back to the house in time to learn another interesting fact about the gates. While Rita was cracking a bottle of Texas Valley, a webporter broke away from the crowds around the Vatican. They were larger than ever and still waiting on the pope to tell them what to think.

  “...definitely confirmed. Pregnant women can enter the sex gates and walk out as a man with no problem. The fetus, however, is lost in the change. This presents an interesting point. How many desperate women all over the world will enter the gates in order to terminate an unwanted pregnancy? Will the cost of becoming a male deter them? Now stand by for a statement from the pope."

  “If I were destitute, it wouldn't deter me.” Rita sounded certain.

  “Do you really mean that?” Curiosity is my middle name.

  Rita's face was set in grim lines. “I certainly do. You would, too, if you'd worked at a hospice like I once did and saw those poor girls coming in with nothing more than skin and bones holding them together. And the poor babies. We couldn't afford to even try to save most of them, not that it would do any good. Most of them are addicted to greenweed when they're born."

  I knew about that. Greenweed was the drug of choice for our Fourth Worlders. It was cheap and not that addictive for adults. For them, it had little side effect other than hyperactivity during the euphoria. Children were another case. Up until puberty, the weed was highly addictive and passed easily through the placental barrier during pregnancy. Once addicted, kids became lethargic and even suffered brain damage. After a while, they turned into vegetables without even the will to live.

  * * * *

  We stayed up as late as we could, hoping that one of the webs or nets would come on with an explanation of who or what was responsible for the gates, but none ever did. Oh, a few of the wilder webs claimed exclusive, definite proof that God, the Devil or aliens were behind the gates.

  The president came on and announced that the crisis was under control, and everyone should to go back to work the next day. I wondered if that applied to school. If so, Donna would have an afternoon in-person class to attend while Rita and I could plug in from home. I doubted Donna would go; I didn't think she was ready yet to face the world as a woman.

  At last we were tired enough to go to bed. Rita and I showered together and took the opportunity to examine each other's bruises. They were fading, and when I washed off the bandage, I saw that the gash on my ribcage was almost healed.

  I hadn't shaved the previous morning. I picked up a beard cloth and wiped my whiskers off. Rita doesn't like bristles.

  “Any of it left?"

  I rinsed the cloth out and passed it to her. She wiped her legs and under her arms and tossed the used cloth into the compost chute.

  As worn out as I was, I still couldn't sleep once we were in bed. I kept thinking about Donna and Russell experimenting together the other night. I wondered what Rita knew about it. She had already been asleep when I heard that cry the night before. I decided to ask her in a roundabout way.

  “Have you noticed that Donna seems to be adapting pretty well, considering her circumstances?"

  Rita shifted her body closer to me. “Why shouldn't she be?"

  “Well, considering that she was a man only a day or two ago, and the way she acted at first, I wouldn't have expected it."

  “It's not a crime to be a woman. Or the worse thing that can happen to you, either."

  “I didn't say that."

  “You were acting like it, at first. But you're doing better.” She reached over and patted my tummy.

  “Russell seems to be accepting the change in Donna without any trouble."

  Rita sat up in bed. I watched her breasts jiggle in the dim light as she adjusted her position. “Lee, sometimes I think you're retarded. Are you trying to ask me whether I'm aware that Donna and Russell might decide to have sex with each other?"

  “It was on my mind,” I admitted.

  “Don't tell me you're bothered by it. I know better.” There was no arguing with that. She knew I'd tried a few kinky things myself when it came to sex. Like most people, I'd let the urge to experience a new sexual sensation overcome my normally conservative views. A few months ago we'd had a house party, and she and I and a female guest had wound up in bed together. I thought the girl was more interested in Rita than me, but I enjoyed it nevertheless. I still remembered how excited I got while watching the other woman kiss and fondle Rita. Unfortunately, I drank too much that night and my other recollections were vague. Rita told me about it though. According to her, she tried it because she wanted the experience, at least once, but she admitted to enjoying it.

  “I'm not bothered. I'm curious, that's all.” She always seems to be one step ahead of me.

  “Well, put your curiosity to bed. I'm sleepy.” She leaned down to kiss me, then stretched out and snuggled her back up against me. I slid my hand across her waist and up to cup her soft, warm breast. Sleep came easily after that.

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  * * *

  Chapter Five

  Rita was already up when I finally woke the next morning. I checked the time and saw that it was after nine, way past the time I'm usually up and around.

  I threw off the covers and hurried to the bathroom. All I really needed was a piss and some listerpaste for my teeth. I grabbed a package, opened it and bit down. My gums tingled as it bubbled away the overnight accumulation of gook. While it was working, I ran a brush through my abominable hair. I hate the ugly rust color of my hair, so I keep it cut short. Some deodorant, a quick rinse to wash away the listerpaste, and I was done.

  I saw the laundry was piling up. I threw on my last pair of clean jeans (my dress-up pair with the red piping) and pulled on a square-cut jean jirt with rolled-up sleeves and side pockets. I snapped the two bottom closures so my gun wouldn't drag the pocket down so obviously. I transferred it and the clips to the jirt, clipped on my phone and hurried out to the great room, ready for breakfast. I felt as hungry as a hyperactive shrew.

  Russell was back, and bless his soul, he had stopped by McDonald's on the way and bought breakfast. He was already cramming sausage and biscuits into his mouth like some Fourth World starvation victim.

  “Russell! What's going on?” I was excited to see him, even if his wrinkled clothes, blonde stubble and tangled hair did make him look like a homeless drunk after a three-day binge.

  “Mmph,” he answered around a mouthful of biscuit and sausage. He swallowed it whole, then spat out some words. “Lots. Let's eat first, and I'll tell you."

  I bent over to kiss Rita and sat down on the carpet.
I think some refugee family must have owned the house before I rented it. The table only has one setting, low to the floor, and you have to sit on the carpet to eat.

  I dug in. Russell had splurged on real pork sausage rather than the usual wheat and soybean synthetic. He must have been starving.

  Rita and Donna were taking it slower, being careful not to dribble on their clothes. Rita was the only one in street dress. She was wearing red slacks and a white short-sleeved silkskin blouse. Not many women can get away with silkskin garments, especially on top. The stuff is flimsy and clings to the skin. It's not quite transparent, but with every curve revealed it's hard to tell the difference. Only nubile young women and older women who had visited a surgeon first wore it. Any sag or abnormality was instantly noticeable. Rita liked showing off those firm breasts I loved.

  Donna was wearing something she bought the day before, a shimmering, translucent blue wrap. It clung to her curves, at least the ones I could see. I wondered how she felt wearing sexy clothes. I love the sensuous feel of a woman's body beneath satin or silkskin; but I can't imagine wearing it. My friend was on a strange journey.

  Russell polished off the last biscuit, then covered his mouth and yawned. “Wow, I think I could sleep til doomsday."

  “Not yet you can't,” I said. “I want to hear what you've been doing first."

  “Nothing as exciting as what you guys have been up to.” Evidently, the girls had already told him about getting caught up in the riot at the campus gate. He glanced over at Donna and smiled. “Okay, if someone will make a pot of coffee, I'll fill you in. Not that I know much."

  By the time we cleared off the table, the coffee was ready.

  Russell took a sip of his. “Gah. I've drank too much of this stuff. It's starting to taste like scorched cabbage."