The Mandela Shift, Chapter 1

The Mandela Shift
(c) 2017
A collaborative effort by Haylee V and Leila

This is, first and foremost, a work of FICTION. Any semblance to any person(s), real or imagined, is purely coincidental. Place names have been altered, albeit just SLIGHTLY, to hopefully bring great shame upon the GUILTY.
It was just another rainy Wednesday afternoon. I had just gotten through with my Hell week at First Data (I work twelve hour shifts, three days on and four days off, followed by four days on and three days off. Every three months, we switch ends of the week with the other crew. What this means, essentially, is that twice a year, we work seven consecutive days, and twice a year we have seven consecutive days off, thus Hell and Heaven weeks...), and was looking forward to some hard-earned and well-deserved R & R. I had just entered my apartment and was in the process of drawing myself a steamy, soap-infused bubble bath, followed by a nice, long stint as Stacey, my "en femme" persona.

Suddenly, I began to feel quite sick to my stomach, as waves of intense nausea and vertigo enveloped me. Everything became blurry, and I suddenly had a splitting headache. I eased myself gently to the bathroom floor, and closed my eyes, praying in earnest that this feeling, and its accompanying discomfort, would abate as quickly as it appeared. After what appeared to be several hours (days? or mere minutes? I was no longer sure) the dizziness and nausea eased somewhat, and I was able- just barely- to open my eyes without getting dry heaves. I slowly stood. Putting my hands to my face, I realized, to my shock (and secret delight) that the stubble from my freshly-shaven face was gone, as was my Adam's apple. I eased myself to the mirror. While I admit, I had practiced my makeup enough to be passable, and even somewhat attractive (dare I say cute?) I was in no way prepared for the vision of loveliness that stared blankly back at me.

I reached down to feel my chest, and couldn't help but notice the increased heaviness. As I hadn't (yet) begun to dress, this surprised me. As my palm gently brushed the new mounds, I was delighted to discover that they were, indeed, real. And MINE! Hoping against all hope, I decided to see if I had undergone any other "changes". As I inched my hand closer to my "nether regions", I found my excitement (and pleasure) mounting. If this was a dream, I didn't want to awaken.

Unfortunately, I discovered that not quite everything about me had changed. "Mr. Happy" was still there, and VERY prominent. It was about this time, too, that I realized that this was NOT, in fact, a dream. Shattered, my excitement (and subsequent arousal) quickly dissipated, replaced by a morbid sense of dread (or was it fear?) as I realized the implications of the changes I had undergone. I was no longer fully male, but with the tenting of my lower extremities, I wasn't completely female either. Fortunately, I had purchased a decent gaff months earlier, but I didn't know if it would fully help my situation any.

I quickly dressed back into my discarded clothes and went into the den. I had to know just what was going on. I had to get out... get AWAY.
I grabbed my keys and left the apartment, headed for the Dew Drop Inn, THE local place for gossip in town. I grabbed a table on the fresco, ordered a mocha latte, and settled in to listen to the rumors fly. I didn't have to wait long...

"Would you take a look at the tranny fag over there?" I overheard someone whisper to their companion. "Yeah. I know. He's butt-ugly, and his Adam's apple is bigger than mine. Goddamn freak ain't foolin' nobody. They should just round them all up and shoot 'em all. F'n perverted piece of s*it..."

At another table, I could hear three women cackling quite loudly: "I was in the restroom at Macy's yesterday when one of THEM came in. I could see his thing tenting his skirt. I went to tell the manager, and all I got was a shrug and 'that's the law, ma'am.' That's the LAST TIME I'll shop there, I'll tell you."

"I know, Joan," one of the others said. "But we won't have to put up with those sickos much longer. I heard on the news today that 23 more states had approved Amendment 69. That makes 72 in total. Just three more to make it unanimous."

"Yeah, Sue," the third one agreed. "And I hear President Glibt is going to make a speech tonight as she signs Executive Order 1952. In about a week, their cancer will be just a distant memory..."

With that last bit, I got up, dusted myself off, and left for home. I'd had just about all the trans-bashing I could stand for one day.

When I got home, I threw off my shoes and coat, and sat on the couch, turning on the TV as I did so. The news was just starting...

"Greetings, citizens of Saxet. It is a wonderful day for the Omoh empire. Without further ado, allow me to welcome Her Exalted Imminence, President Melonia Glibt."

"Fellow citizens," she addressed, regally, "For decades, we have been forced to deal with (and yes, even accept- and sometimes coddle) the transgendered agenda. They have invaded our schools, theaters, movies, television industries, and public places. They have demanded- and partially succeeded- in achieving a modicum of rights. And, under the last administration, have even entered our most private sanctum (and last bastion of privacy), public bathrooms. I'm here today to proclaim, over the entire planet of Retah, NO MORE! No more will we need to endure the persistent invasion of our privacy! No more will we be forced to cater to these sexual deviants or expose our children to their cancer! With the signing and enactment of Executive Order 1952, as well as the 69th Amendment's ratification in all 75 superstates of the planet, it is now illegal to don the garb or persona of anyone or anything other than the anatomical or chromosomal sex of an individual. The punishment for such a heinous crime will be death by crucifixion, public communal stoning, or burning at the stake. No longer will we have to deal with the aberrations of the "intersexed" either. Any birth with non-binary sex chromosomes (strictly XX or XY), and any birth with ambiguous or missing genitalia will be IMMEDIATELY terminated by being sent to the recyclers for conversion to biofuels. Thank you for supporting me, and for FINALLY putting an end to the scourge that has plagued us for so long."

"This story has been a production of Big Closet Top Shelf and is posted per the author's request. If you are reading it anywhere else, you are reading a PIRATED copy, and the site that is hosting it is in DIRECT VIOLATION of US Copyright Laws. It is YOUR duty, and responsibility to report said piracy to the proper authorities."

"This concludes our special broadcast. We now return you to your regularly scheduled propaganda..." was the last thing I heard as the flames enveloped my apartment.

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