------ Chapter 21 ------

            At that moment the late night TV news began, so I decided to watch it while I waited for my woman to wake up. Normally, I had never paid too much attention to the news, but I had seen it often enough to know what to expect. However, this time I was more curious to see what was different in this new woman’s world.

            The news started and as I might have expected, it was run by two very large, very dominant sounding female anchors. Understandably, they were fairly glammed up, and I was surprised to see they had quite revealing outfits for anchorwomen. In fact, overall the general trend amongst some of the women in this reality was apparently to have “just enough” clothes to cover up, and usually not much else. The minority of women were more modest, and their modesty varied. It really seemed to be up to the woman’s personal tastes, and the individuals chosen style trumped any societal norms. I suppose, with so few men around, standards had relaxed a bit. As a man, I saw it as a positive thing.

            The anchorwomen ran through their stories in a typical fashion. I noticed another detail though- they referred to themselves simply as “anchors” and not “anchor-women”. I imagine in this reality men had probably never been allowed to hold the position, so there was no need to designate a gender. It seemed likely that in this female dominated society a lot of other positions would have a similar, genderless title.

            The actual stories ranged from important news around the world to popcorn-y, feel good stories. Overall, it seemed much, much more positive and upbeat than what I was used to. For once, it seemed the world wasn’t falling apart. Hell, it was nearly utopian. As I watched, it sort of begged the question- Was a world run exclusively by women a much better place to live in? At first glance I’ll admit it certainly seemed so. This realities news was devoid of stories of warfare, murder, disease or heart-wrenching poverty that I was so accustomed to. Every area of the world featured on the program seemed to have first world standards of living. Everywhere, women were happy, increasingly more beautiful than what I was used to, and generally seemed to have their basic needs met. All good things- or so I thought.

            Of course, the only side of the story being shown was a woman’s side. They were the absolute rulers of this society, and they knew it. I saw absolutely no men throughout the show, but evidence of their existence was there. A small door nonchalantly present in the corner of a shot. Scenes of peculiar, almost dollhouse sized furniture throughout. As the program continued, I found myself searching frantically for any more clues of any male presence.

            Finally, after more than fifteen minutes of watching, I got was I was looking for. It was the first negative news story of the night, one of “disaster in the neighborhood”, as the melodramatic anchor had put it. Apparently, there had been a bit of a scuffle between two women earlier in the day, and the authorities had been called. The evening news at nine brought me to the scene.

            The shot changed to the face of an attractive middle aged woman, a one Debbie Baumgarter, as the subtitle said. That morning, Debbie had sent her husband out of the house to go retrieve the newspaper from the front porch. Mr. Baumgarter had dutifully done as he was told, and while outside had an encounter with his next door neighbor, Mrs. Porter. She was also outside at the time, watering her hydrangeas, and when she saw Mr. Baumgarter she took it upon herself to grab him.

            The scene jumped to Anne Porter, the buxom blonde neighbor. She looked considerably taller than Debbie Baumgarter.

            “I’d seen him outside several times, unaccompanied,” she admitted matter-of-factly, “So I thought, why shouldn’t I have him? It would have just taken a minute, then she could have had him right back.”

            Back to Debbie, who looked quite miffed.  “She returned him to me damaged! And this isn’t the first time!”

The camera shows Mr. Baumgarter sitting in her lap, his arm in a sling, sobbing slightly. Something seemed off about him. To put it in the nicest way, he seemed almost… simple. Or maybe childlike is the right word? At any rate, Debbie continued, “She just has no respect for my property. Last week she borrowed my good hedge trimmers, and those came back all dulled and dented. Besides, she has her own man! Isn’t one enough?!”

            Scene change. Mrs. Porter is featured again. “Sure, I have my own man. But he’s failed to impregnate me for years, and not for my lack of trying.” She turns and shoots a dirty glance to someone off camera. “I thought, why not try my hand with this one?”

            “It was at that point that Mrs. Baumgarter decided to take matters into her own hands,” the reporter’s voice announced, “and confronted her neighbor regarding the damage to her property. The encounter got physical, and both parties have decided to press charges.”

            “I just want her to pay for the damages she’s caused.” Debbie sighed, exasperated.

            Anne Porter- “She got him back, I don’t know why she’s so upset. No permanent harm was done. Besides…,” she rubbed her stomach in a satisfied way, “…I think I’ve already got what I wanted.”

            I sighed and leaned back against Nina’s comfortable, cushy boob like it was an oversized bean bag chair. That story… was a lot to take in. I pondered it for a minute. What I had perceived as a pretty forceful rape had been treated like a neighborhood dispute about borrowed property. Yikes! I would need to be a lot more careful in the future. I couldn’t help but notice that the women’s size seemed to have played a factor too. The neighbor woman had been considerably taller than the wife, and as such felt entitled to her husband. Entitled… whenever she could her hands on get him, essentially. This was never questioned from a legal standpoint or otherwise. I was extremely thankful for Nina’s size at that moment. She was so large that no other woman would dare to claim me like that. Still, I’d be wise to be cautious.

            The news segments stopped for a commercial break, which was interesting enough in itself. The products being advertised were cosmetics, growth aids, some over the counter medications… pretty typical stuff. All the actors were really actresses, of course. No men were shown, or even marketed to for that matter. Finally, there was one commercial that caught my eye. It featured an attractive 20 something blond actress, a real cheerleader type. Her pitch went like this-

            “Are you ready to bring new life into the world? Have you always wanted to raise a daughter? Tired of living alone, and ready for a change? Or maybe your current man isn’t living up to expectations! Come on down to Make-Me-A-Mom! We feature only the finest male specimens, guarantee to get your ovaries going and create a daughter for you! Take one of our specially engineered males home, and within weeks you’ll have a new girl growing inside you, or your money back! That’s right potential moms, these small men make daughters ONLY! Plus, with our patented blend of genetic engineering, your new daughter will come into the world with the genes to be taller, stronger, smarter and more beautiful than ever! She’ll have everything needed to succeed in life- plus a little extra! So call now, set up an appointment, and we’ll even throw in a warranty at no charge! If your male doesn’t work or expires, we’ll send you a replacement as soon as possible! Call soon, supplies are limited!”

            The color was drained from my face, and I picked my jaw up off the floor. What the fuck was that!? This new reality, this woman’s world, men are basically being farmed to breed larger and larger women? And it’s just so… nonchalant, like this is how it’s supposed to be! There was something about the previous news story that had bothered me, and it was the husband, Mr. Baumgarter. Something was off about him, and now I could guess what it was. Were men in this reality… genetically engineered to be child-like and submissive? Not even capable of basic learning? It made sense.

Questions abounded, racing through my mind, growing and compounding like an avalanche. So, if that was the case, what was I? If I belonged to this reality, was I some genetic clone freak, bred from a test tube to hopefully produce a gigantic daughter one day? Was that all I was created for? What did that mean for my relationship with Nina? Was that all she wanted from me? What if she didn’t love me quite the way I loved her?

            Hysteria took me for a bit, I’m ashamed to admit. I won’t go into the details of what happened, but let’s just say I had a little breakdown and leave it at that. Luckily, Nina was asleep for the whole episode.

            I got a hold of myself if only for one lingering thought: Why was I here, in this reality specifically? One minute life had been normal for me, and then I’d woken up to this. In this reality, I must have had a father. Was he a test tube man like in the commercials?

            I only knew one way to find out.

            Scanning the room, I spotted a cordless phone on the wall in the kitchen. I could probably reach it if I climbed to the countertop. As carefully as I could, I climbed down off of Nina’s chest and shimmied down the side of the leather couch to the floor. It wasn’t super perilous, as the lowest part of the couch was about as tall as I was, but I needed to be careful to avoid waking her.

            Scampering across the carpet, I made my way to the linoleum floored kitchen, and then to the lower cabinets. Jumping and scrambling, I grabbed the top of the lowest drawer door and pulled myself up. It was like pull-ups in gym class all over again. My feet could barely hold to the shallow shelf of the door, but with some effort I managed to hoist myself up to the kitchen counter.

            Once there, I took a very short break to catch my breath. Getting around like this could be exhausting. Gazing out over the kitchen, I felt like I was standing on the roof of a two story house. If I fell now, bad things would definitely happen to me, but I was determined to press on. I made my way to the cordless phone. It hung on the wall, high enough above me that I would need to stretch to reach it. The white plastic hand piece was half as tall as I was. I had no idea how much it would weigh, and I didn’t want to wake Nina up by simply knocking it over and having it clatter to the ground. Gingerly, I did my best to lift it up off the receiver and slowly lower it to the countertop, using my bodyweight to pin it against the wall and have it slide down in a controlled manner. It was heavy enough, but not so much that I lost my hold on it.

            With the phone set on the counter, buttons up, I glanced back to ensure Nina was still asleep. She seemed to be. I’d need to make this as quiet as possible.

            I punched my home phone number in, and tilted the phone up and away from the living room, to try to redirect the sound away. It rang.

            “Hello?” Alison picked up the phone.

            “Alison, it’s me, Dean! Get Mom on the phone,” I spurted.

            “Hahaha, why should I? You get deflowered?” My sister retorted, sensing the panic in my voice.

            “Damn it, Alison, just do this for me. Please!” I hissed.

            “Ok squirt. I’ll get her, don’t have a conniption just yet.” For once she just complied. Thank you Alison!

            Ruffled sounds and thudding footsteps came through the receiver as Alison walked over to my mother and handed her the phone.

            “Hey sweetie! How’s it going over there?” My mother asked, a little surprise in her voice. I don’t think she was expecting to hear from me.

            “Mom, listen to me, I need to talk about Dad.”