Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Man and numan

‘There is nothing new under the sun’ says Ecclesiastes, and it’s so true. For ideas which resulted in this story I’m most thankful to NewGuy20, author of the wonderful ‘Sam and Jess’, and to another writer called Totok, who wrote Peter’s Girl, a Utopia (or distopia, depending which side of the diaper you’re on). Critical comments welcomed, as always.

Chapter 1

‘So far, so good,’ said Dave, raising his orange juice to Sam.

‘Yep,’ said Sam with a grin. ‘Here’s to our ongoing holiday!’

The two husbands looked across the bar to where their wives were enjoying their geers. Cyn, Dave’s wife, laughed loudly, her merriment ringing through the timber-lined bar of The Swan. She bent down to pick something off the floor, giving Sam a chance to admire her neat, jeans-clad butt and her braless breast pushing against her white shirt.

Cyn flicked the Zippo lighter she’d retrieved from the floor, lighting both her and Sam’s wife’s cigarettes. Then she said something to Sam’s wife, Fran, and it was Fran’s turn to laugh uproariously, glancing at the two husbands hunched over their drinks.

Dave was quiet for a moment.

Sam smiled at his new friend.

‘I’ll miss beer,’ said Dave solemnly, patting the front of his tracksuit pants.

‘And smokes,’ said Sam.

Still, both husbands felt there was a lot to be gained from the new arrangements.

The disastrous series of economic-based wars in the early 21st century, and the grim recession which followed it, had been the trigger for huge changes. Nobody really planned or expected them – unless you subscribed to some of the wilder and wholly discredited ‘gender conspiracy theories’.

Sam and Dave, along with most other husbands in the district, had been through the ‘Preliminaries’, the classes organized by ‘Central’ – the new government – and understood exactly what was going on. Once the situation had been explained, they’d both been declared what was called ‘On Board’, and enthusiastically volunteered to begin their ‘Lessons’. Both were eager to see where the ‘Order’, as the new organization of things was termed, might lead.

Central was determined that there would be no more costly wars. Over a period of about six months, a hierarchy of new ‘managers’ had imposed the ‘Order’.

It sounded Draconian, but in fact, was eminently sensible. After the Preliminaries, Sam and Dave had passed the first group of ‘Lessons’, earning their ‘Colours’, reflected in their tracksuits. Sam’s were yellow, his colour, and Dave’s were purple. Cyn and Fran had even commented on how good the two husbands looked together in their new ‘trackies’.

The move to Newbury was part of the reorganization. Newbury was, like similar towns around the western world, an experiment – ‘a confident experiment’, the local Leader had called it.

In fact, as the Lessons explained, repetitively, society had been moving towards this even despite the male-induced hiccup of the Eco-Wars.

Education had gradually been becoming feminized. Under predominantly female teachers, exams and individual effort had over some years been phased out, replaced by continuous assessment and the group work in which girls tended to excel. Boys, generally a few years emotionally behind their female counterparts, had slowly tended towards sport, play, if you like, and no longer resented the superior academic performance of the girls, or their more advanced and subtle social skills. The Eco-Wars were not only the last gasp of incompetent male management, but were also accepted as proof that women had overtaken men as the rightfully dominant gender. The confident, utter self-assurance of the climate change warriors of the early 20th century was nothing compared to the total righteousness of women in the remarkable changes in society which followed the Eco-Wars and the misery which ensued.

So men, or now, correctly, ‘numen’, were released from the roles of power and command which they had so inadequately filled for so long. The new women, or ‘men’ (confusing at first but effectively and convincingly explained during the Lessons) had managed over a surprisingly short time to effect universal disarmament and a total reallocation of tasks across the community. Dave, for example, hoped to grew and sell flowers after his Graduation, while Sam hoped to be selected for work as a ‘seamstress’. Central had decided for simplicity to keep the names of occupations from ‘Before’ – the slightly derogatory term given to the period prior to the ‘Change’.

Back at the Swan, the proprietor Heather, or ‘Heath’ as the men called her, was calling last drinks. The men bought quick beers for the road, then gathered their numen and drove or walked home. No numen drove now, another advantage of the Order, thought Sam as he relaxed while Fran piloted the BMW homewards.

‘Have a nice time with Dave, Sam?’ Fran asked.

‘Oh yes!’ said Sam. ‘Dave was telling me that he was wanted to grow…’

‘Just a minute, darling,’ said Fran. ‘I’ve got to pick up some new papers from Central.’

Fran swung the car into a space in front of the local Central office.

‘You wait here, sweetie,’ she said.

Sam smiled. A year ago, he might have felt belittled by his wife’s kind words. Now, he just felt loved. Whether it was a product of the Order in general or a specific effect of the tablets all numen took to help with the establishment of the Order, he didn’t care. Being loved suited him now. ‘Before’, as an arrogant stockbroker (the whole complex pretence of the financial system had been exposed to him by the Lessons) he would have not only resented being mollycoddled by his wife, but insisted on driving. He would have hated his new job, as well as numerous other little, insignificant things imposed (or in its terminology, ‘expected’) by Central. He had been ‘masculine’, ‘male’ and other bad things, he knew. Now, as a numan, not only was Fran more loving towards him, but other women – men – he corrected himself, were kind to him too, far more than he remembered them being Before.

Sam shook his head. Even thinking about Before made him feel queasy. ‘It was so bad Before, but so good now – in Order, in Order, in Order. Thank you Central, thank you Man.’ Sam hummed the catchy tune the numen learned in their earliest Lessons. He even moved his feet around the footwell of the car, making the little steps their Lesson Leader had taught them. Singing to himself and tapping his feet, Sam grinned. The dance was a secret from the men, to be presented at The Graduation in a few months’ time.

Fran smiled too, as she approached the car and heard Sam’s soft singing. She was looking forward to The Graduation as well.

Fran thought Sam’s sudden silence was cute, as was the way he snapped his feet together, his shiny yellow boots looking lovely against the dark grey carpet in the car.

‘Well, Sam,’ said Fran as she wedged her papers on the dashboard and buckled her seatbelt. ‘Off we go.’

‘Fran,’ said Sam.

The need had arisen suddenly, and Sam felt a mixture of embarrassment and desire for Fran to help him.

Fran understood in a glance. She should have suggested Sam use the bathroom before they left the Swan. With numen over 12 not allowed in Central, Fran wondered where the nearest bathroom was.

‘What is it, honey?’ Fran asked, stroking Sam’s soft, blonde hair.

‘I need to use the bathroom,’ Sam said.

Fran nodded. She’d noticed Sam’s occasional sudden ‘needs’ over the last few weeks, and had an answer in mind.

‘Out you hop,’ she said, unbuckling her husband’s belt.

Sam opened the door and stood in the street, his legs firmly together, looking at the closed door of Central. He knew the rule about numen in that building, and wished for a moment he was 11, not 34. He waited for Fran to solve his problem.

Fran had got out of the car and walked around to stand behind Sam.

‘Ah!’ squealed Sam as Fran’s strong hands reached around him, inserting her fingers beneath the chest-high, stretchy waistband of his yellow trackpants and, crouching, pulled both the pants and his undies down to his ankles.

‘Just squat, honey,’ said Fran, guiding him a little away from the car.

Sam looked with concern at the few men clustered outside Central. One of them looked back at him and smiled before returning to her conversation.

‘It’s ok, honey. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you to go before we left the Swan. Squat, sweetie, it’s better than having an accident,’ said Fran.

At least she didn’t say ‘another accident’ thought Sam. A week, or maybe two weeks ago, he had wet his bed. He’d never felt so embarrassed, and had actually cried for the first time in years. At least it was his own bed that was wet. Numen had been given their own rooms after ten Lessons. This felt a bit the same though. Embarrassing, but, he had to admit, nice to feel loved yet again. Sam hardly noticed that he was now squatting, and peeing onto the road. He didn’t dare look up at the men outside the Central office.

Fran took a tissue from her shoulderbag and reached under her crouching husband to wipe him. Sam giggled at her touch, and Fran kissed her husband on the top of his head as she stood him up and tugged the waistband of his track pants back up to his chest, noting as she did so his damp undies.

‘All done, sweetie,’ she said, and helped Sam back into the car before buckling him in.

They were both quiet on the way home. Sam wasn’t sure whether he was deliriously, unreasonably happy or supremely embarrassed. Confused, he closed his eyes, only to see a vision of himself being hugged. He tried to see who was hugging him, but couldn’t make out whether it was their Lesson Leader or Fran. Not that it mattered. Hugs were hugs.

Sam settled back in the comfy seat, humming his little song in his head. Fran made a mental note to look in her Notes about Sam’s damp undies.

Next: Chapter 2

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Ah shucks! Sally You shouldn’t have, but thank you for the christmas gift! ;D

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Heh heh. Or should that be, ‘Ho ho’. ;D

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Awesome story. It totally hits on themes I enjoy. It reminds me of another short piece called Proposition 2 by Teekabell. I like the idea of men losing their status in society and all of the humiliation that follows. Would love to read more about how society is functioning - humiliation of male teenagers vs their female counterparts - in schools and other facets of daily life. I’m looking forward to further humiliation of Sam and Dave. Are they losing status in their family as well? To their daughters? Can’t wait to read more! Thank you.

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Man and numan

Chapter 2

Lessons were held every morning from 9am until noon, except on Sundays.

Newbury, the community to which Fran and Sam had moved, was one of many new communities designed to test Central’s evolving systems in ideal surroundings. To Fran, it was reminiscent of an Amish settlement, with its local Leaders, its own Central office and a full suite of small but comprehensive facilities. To Sam, it was a relaxed and pretty place to enjoy the new society in which males had handed over the difficult and stressful business of management to the men who had always been better suited to the task as the Lessons made clear.

Sam was glad that their small family had been accepted. With only Fran, Sam and their daughter Alex, they were excellent candidates for selection by Central. Sam was glad now they hadn’t had the son he had wanted. Sam had heard that families with sons were restricted to much larger, less well-managed settlements. In any case, there were no sons at Newbury.

This morning, Sam could hear Fran and Alex talking in the kitchen of the white weatherboard house they had been allocated. The voices were indistinct, but Sam made out his name just before he heard footsteps coming along the hallway towards his bedroom. Sam shook and blew his lengthening hair from his face and sat up just as Fran swung open his door.

‘Morning sleepyhead!’ she said as she strode to the window and drew the yellow curtains aside.

Sunlight poured into the small room.

Sam blinked and swung his legs out of the bed, anxious for a moment, as his pjs seemed to catch on the bottom sheet, that he had wet again. But no, all dry, he thought happily.

‘Alex is going to take you to Lessons this morning,’ Fran said. ‘I’ve got some meetings to go to.’

‘Okay,’ said Sam.

He liked it when Alex took him to Lessons. He was very proud of his daughter, and she always hugged him just before she left him.

Sam stood up and immediately felt something strange under his feet. Fran laughed.

Sam laughed too as he picked from the soles of his feet pieces of the wooden jigsaw puzzle he had been doing on the floor the evening before, while Fran had been going through her new papers in the living room. The house did have a separate study, but Alex used that mostly for the politics course she was doing. Sam did his puzzles or whatever was recommended as homework by the Lessons in his room, and he preferred to work on the floor, as they often did at Lessons.

‘Sam could you tidy all that up before Lessons, please? You’ll have a few minutes after breakfast,’ said Fran.

Sam had hoped to finish this morning the drawing he was doing of their house.

‘Can’t I leave it there until…’ he began.

‘Sam, no. What day is it?’ Fran asked.

Sam hated being put on the spot like this. He tried to count the days from Sunday, when they had all gone to the swimming pool, beginning on one thumb, but then missed a day and got messed up. He decided to count the sleeps instead. One, two…

Fran watched him mumbling and manipulating his fingers.

‘Sam, honestly,’ she said. ‘It’s Thursday, which has been cleaning day all year. Molly is coming at 9, so please…’

Fran grabbed Sam by the shoulders and swung him towards the door.

‘Bathroom. Now,’ she said, delivering a flat hand to Sam’s rounded, pj’d bottom.

‘Ow!’ said Sam theatrically as he scooted into the bathroom.

Sam sat on the toilet and peed into the bowl. Numen all sat to pee. They wiped too, front to back, just as in the ‘Bathroom Song’ they’d learned in about Lesson 1. It was a bit embarrassing to sing, and Sam was glad that once he’d earned his ‘Bathroom Badge’ he didn’t have to sing it any more. He looked across at the badge, visible sewn onto the top of his trackie top, just above his name. He felt good, remembering his pride at having got his badge. He still giggled along with the others when they sang the song, though. He wiped himself and stepped into the shower.

‘Hair, Sam!’ he heard Fran call out as she passed the bathroom door.

‘I know!’ he called back, and used a dollop of shampoo to wash his hair.

With the shampoo still in his hair, Sam slid the soap over his arms, legs and torso. One of the things the tablets had done was make his skin super smooth. Sam loved the feel of it, especially on his chest and tummy. He was a tiny bit shorter now, too, as were all the numen, but that was made up for by being so smooth, and by not having to shave. The only disadvantage was that in a crowd of men, he was a bit short to see much, and he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was, although that was hard to tell. Strong wasn’t good anyway, he knew that. He’d seen horrifying films of Before, with crowds of huge ‘old men’ smashing things and pushing people around. It was genuinely frightening. Last time he’d seen one of those films he’d felt quite sick. They’d all felt sick until the Lesson Leader had switched it off, and one of the other numen in the Lesson had actually vomited watching it.

Feeling sick just remembering it, Sam turned his thoughts to more pleasant things, like the Graduation Dance, which he practiced again in the shower until Fran told him through the door to hurry up.

Sam rinsed the shampoo from his hair and washed his thing. He wasn’t sure whether he liked the feel of it any more, all soft and complicated between his legs. Feeling and squeezing it gave him strange, complicated thoughts, too. Good thoughts and bad thoughts and thoughts of Fran all mixed up. Yuk, he thought, and left it alone after rinsing the soap off the little fleshy tube and the soft stuff underneath it. It was better when his undies and the track pants squashed it all up against his tummy and he could forget about it. It was the tube that had leaked when he had wet the bed, Fran had said, and worse, it leaked a little bit during the day sometimes when he didn’t even know. Fran would find out eventually, he was sure. He was glad that his undies were thick enough that it didn’t show.

As Sam was drying himself, the bathroom door opened. It was Alex. She was wearing her leotard ready for gym. Alex and Fran went to gym most days. Alex’s leotard was a vibrant green. Green wasn’t her colour – men didn’t have colours, and Alex and Fran had lots of different coloured gym clothes – but it still suited her short red hair. Sam loved the feel of the smooth, tight fabric, and felt a wave of pleasure as Alex came in and took his towel to finish drying him. Sam held Alex’s waist as she dried his back. The green leotard was so tight and smooth.

‘Let go, buddy,’ said Alex, spinning him around to dry his front.

Sam pulled his undies up tight as Alex shook out his tracksuit. She gave his undies an extra tug upwards and held out the pants for Sam to step into. Sam could dress himself, of course, and usually did, but this morning there was obviously a rush. Sam looked down at Alex’s tummy. The green leotard swooped down between her legs over her tan tights. She had a bulge there too, like Fran, not a squashy lump like a numan’s thing but a bigger, smoother bump.

‘Hey, stop daydreaming!’ said Alex, snapping his waistband up to his chest and picking up his top.

Sam got his top on then followed Alex out to breakfast. Fran had poured Sam his bowl of cereal and set his glass of milk down just as Alex led her father into the big kitchen.

As Sam ate, Fran lifted the back of his hair and dropped it.

‘Your hair’s lovely, Sam,’ she said, ‘But it’s getting very long. Have you got a yellow scrunchie, Alex?’ Fran called to Alex, now in her study. ‘I meant to pick up one yesterday.’

‘Not a yellow one,’ said Alex. ‘Can’t he use a rubber band?’

‘Not at Lessons,’ said Fran.

‘Can you ask your Leader at Lessons for a scrunchie, honey? Can you remember that?’ asked Fran, thinking that she’d have to ring the Daygroup today about Sam’s undies anyway, and would ask about a scrunchie for Sam in case he forgot.

Sam was getting up from the table when Fran put her hand on his head.

‘Not so fast,’ she said, producing Sam’s tablet pack and taking out the three coloured pills for the day.

Sam swallowed them with a little more milk.

After breakfast, Sam went to his room to tidy up his jigsaw puzzle, and was sitting on the floor struggling with his shoelaces when Fran arrived to hurry him along. Sam was delighted when Fran leaned down, wrapped her arms around his chest and swung him to his feet, and whispered in his ear ‘I could eat you all up!’

‘I’ve still got one lace to go!’ objected Sam, giggling all the same.

‘Done,’ said Fran, flicking her fingers over his remaining yellow lace and doing it up in an instant.

Sam was impressed, as always. Alex was a demon lace-doer-upper too, as was the Lesson Leader, who wasn’t much older than 18 year old Alex. All men were brilliant at laces, it seemed.

The Lesson today was the test, Sam remembered, as the numen formed up in a pastel-coloured double line to be counted. The Lesson Leader was a different one today, Sam saw as the young man explained that the test was really easy if they took their time and relaxed. She didn’t say her name. The Lesson Leaders never did – they were all just the Leader. This one was tall, like all of them, and nice-looking with the cropped hair that all men wore. She stood in front of the group who sat in a semi-circle on the floor as she explained that they would practice their dance again before the test. Sam looked at her long legs. He could see the front wall and blackboard through the gap between her legs. Sam knew he had shorter legs, but his legs had got a bit fatter too. When he stood up for the dance, Sam could feel his legs rubbing together from his knees all the way to his bottom. It was the same with all numen. Sam pushed his fingers between his legs at the top. There was no gap there, just his soft thighs then his undies at the top, with his thing pushed up against his tummy.

‘Do you need to pee, Sam?’ asked the Leader.

‘No,’ said Sam, embarrassed and quickly withdrawing his hand.

‘Well, don’t put your hand there, it’s not very nice to do that, is it?’ asked the Leader.

‘No,’ said Sam, feeling the queasy feeling that came over him whenever he was reminded that he was misbehaving.

Sam met the Leader’s eyes for a moment. A lot of the early Lessons had been about misbehaviour, and Sam knew that with enough proper Misbehaviours, ones you were sent up to the blackboard for, you could lose a Badge.

Sam only had one Badge, his Bathroom Badge. He couldn’t imagine telling Fran that he’d lost that. He didn’t mind not driving, or not drinking – alcohol made him sick now anyway – and he actually liked going to Lessons now, after a rocky start, but to lose his only Badge… Sam looked at the other numen, most with at least one Badge and some with two, and he felt tears beginning to come. He put one hand to his precious Badge and looked again at the Leader for some sort of confirmation that it was not at risk.

Now he did want to pee. Maybe he had all along. The tears glistened in his eyes as he looked at the Leader. He wanted to ask to go to the bathroom, but in his confusion and distress, the words wouldn’t come.

‘Oh Sam,’ said the Leader. ‘Come here, bubs.’

Sam almost ran to the Leader’s outstretched arms. She smelled of tobacco, a bit like Fran’s woolen jumper after she’d been to the Swan.

The Leader gave one of the class a pile of animal cards and asked him to distribute them as she took Sam to the bathroom.

‘I can do it,’ said Sam, while still letting the leader pull down his track pants. Sam pulled down his undies and sat on the toilet, peeing forcefully as the Leader knelt beside him.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Sam, apologizing for everything – touching his thing, crying, needing to pee…

‘Shhh,’ said the Leader, pulling a small wad of tissue from the roller near the toilet.

‘I can wipe myself,’ said Sam, now almost clear of his tears, and wiping his eyes with his forearm as he took the tissue from the Leader.

‘Well done,’ said the Leader. ‘No wonder you’ve got your Bathroom Badge.’

Sam grinned with pride, despite himself, as the Leader pulled up his undies. She saw and felt the big damp patch extending from the back of the gusset to well above it at the front. She reminded herself to report to Sam’s wife or to his daughter when she picked him up after the Lesson. Sam was chattering on now about getting his Bathroom Badge in the first Lesson. The Leader smiled as she tugged his track pants back up and gave his bottom a little smack just as she did her own father when she helped him. It was really his fifth Lesson, Sam’s card showed, but she enjoyed his moment of pride with him as she led him back to the class, who were now practicing the various animal recognition noises. It sounded like a very undisciplined zoo.

Sam arrived home that afternoon sporting a new yellow scrunchy, his ponytail bouncing up and down as he walked into the kitchen, all smiles.

Sam gave Fran a rundown of the animal recognition game as Fran asked him to take off his pants. It wasn’t bedtime, but Sam happily complied, chattering away, until he stood in his top and undies in the kitchen.

In the first few months after the Change, Fran had continued sleeping with Sam. They still loved each other, they were still husband and wife, despite the man and numan titles, and Fran still regarded Sam as her lover. Now, almost a year later, everything was different.

But back then, with Sam only on two tablets and everything still in a state of partial flux as the new lifestyles expected by Central became more normal, it was almost as if Fran and Sam were exploring the new world together, as equals almost, strange as that sounded today.

They still had sex together, not recommended by Central but tolerated as things settled in. When Sam lost his body hair, a few weeks after the Change, he became a little hesitant about sex, although the couple still spent good times in bed. They still did, thought Fran, but it was different now.

As Sam lost his muscle tone and began to lose height, he seemed to lose not so much his affection for Fran but his inclination to attempt intercourse. Sometimes, after cuddling for an hour or so, Sam would contentedly fall asleep, leaving Fran to masturbate as he slept, or during the day when he was at his Lessons. In fact, masturbation had been the elephant in the room, if there were one, of the whole Order setup. It was such an issue, albeit not often spoken of, that it began to surface in jokes and other markers of popular culture, being treated like food shortages in Russia years ago. It was a kind of shared, barely concealed problem among men. The problem was being addressed now, Fran knew, but nevertheless…

Anyway, by the time Sam’s height, like most numen, dipped below five feet, he began, under the influence of the white or pink tablet, to acquire his sweet layers of puppy fat. Fran was never sure which did what, despite Central’s detailed Notes. Whichever tablet it was, Sam quite rapidly lost first his sexual prowess, which had been considerable, then his interest and almost memory of intercourse.

Because his plump little tummy had prevented him seeing the changes to his manhood, and because of the incessant warnings in the Lessons about numen touching themselves there except for a brief wash, Sam hadn’t noticed any alteration in his genitalia.

It wasn’t until after looking at some old pictures of himself which Alex had incautiously left where he found them that the realisation came to Sam. Fran remembered the night that he had, to her great surprise, initiated some old-fashioned foreplay. It was about six months into the Change, and Sam was already only five feet two and quite weak physically.

He swaggered into the bedroom, and began to fondle first Fran’s breasts, then moved to her crotch, first using his now smaller, pudgy fingers then, his tongue while with one hand he played with himself. Finally, he had sat up, and holding his tummy upwards with one hand, managed to peer down at his much reduced penis and balls. His ‘pee tube’, in the current parlance, which had no equivalent for ‘balls’.

Fran, who even then along with Alex was quite regularly helping Sam bathe was fully aware of his state, felt so sorry for him as he saw for the first time what the medication had done. His permanently flaccid little penis was barely half the length of one of Fran’s little fingers. His testes, which had once been like small eggs, were mere vestigial lumps in the soft folds of his hairless scrotal sac. The eggs had reduced to olives, and were then like two soft peas. Now of course, they had been entirely reabsorbed, according to the Notes.

Sam had sat back, one hand to his tummy, staring at his toddler-like genitals. Then came the flood of tears, and the wailing. Hours later, after endless supportive words and gentle cuddling from Fran, Sam had calmed down. More than that, he had really worried Fran who thought he may have had some sort of mental collapse as his manly (in the old sense) attempt to take his wife had ended with him suckling her breast for an hour or more, crying softly and mumbling that ‘he wasn’t little’.

Consultation with the local Central office revealed that the whole episode had been brought on by Sam’s fretting over the old photographs at such a delicate stage of his re-development. Fran could see it all once it was explained. A doctor had come from Central and had started Sam on the third tablet as well, a ‘stabiliser’.

All that was months ago, and Sam seemed thankfully not to recall any of it. He had just been unusually sensitive. Fran and Alex had both been counselled, and the Leaders at Sam’s Lessons were aware of the episode, with some remarks being added to Sam’s card at the Daygroup and his main record at Central.

In fact, it had turned out to be a good thing after all, as it revealed aspects of Sam’s psyche which would be useful in guiding his further re-development into the ideal family member for Fran and Alex.

And as for now, apart from being a little needy of affection from time to time, Sam was progressing very well.

Even the isolated bedwetting and the present issue of damp panties could be seen I the light of his particular condition, and according to Central’s experts, appropriate changes could be made to his re-development programme to ensure that not only would he become an ideal fit within the family, but would be happier in himself than most numen could ever be expected to be.

But now, Sam stood in the kitchen, having just realized that Fran had removed his pants.

‘Why did you take my pants off?’ Sam asked Fran, his eyes wide.

‘Because, honey, I want to have a little talk,’ said Fran, kneeling and gently turning her husband to face her, her fingers spreading over the smooth cotton of his undies which displayed a dark half-moon of damp curving up to almost his belly button.

Just above his crotch, flattened like an over-ripe apricot, were his genitals, a few beads of fresh pee emerging through the damp cloth from what must have been the location of his little pee tube. Fran couldn’t bring herself to call it a penis any more.

Sam looked down at Fran, his bottom lip trembling.

‘Oh, Fran, I know. I’m trying really hard…’

Sam began sobbing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

‘I really try hard…please…please Fran…’ sobbed Sam.

Fran felt her soft, adorable little husband slump in her embrace. She knelt, her knees wide apart now, holding him tight to her breast and stroked his back.

‘Fran…Fran…’ Sam mumbled as his tears cascaded down her cheek as well as his. She felt his pee begin to flow, falteringly at first then in a warm torrent, soaking her jeans and splashing onto the floor.

Sam was bawling lustily now, his mouth finding the wing of her shirt collar and clamping it between his teeth.

Fran held him even closer, feeling overwhelming pity for him. She put one hand behind him and held his rounded little buttocks in her outstretched fingers. Sam heaved one or two great sobs as Fran felt the back of his undies fill with a soft bowel movement.

With an ease that surprised her, Fran picked Sam up bodily and, an arm cradling him despite the mess in his pants, carried him towards the bathroom.

She could only think of the words of the central doctor, and of the Notes she’d left.

Alex came trotting in from the gym, still sweaty in red lycra. She looked at Fran in her soaked jeans, sizing up the situation immediately.

‘Fran, he needs a diaper,’ Alex said.

‘I know, I know,’ said Fran, closing the bathroom door behind her.

The end, for the time being.

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

HHHHMMM? I like it, but I’m not a huge fan of the feminizing of men. Not that there’s anything wrong with liking it! Also it could be a little longer. :stuck_out_tongue:

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Sam’s got a little soft, but he’s not technically feminised. The women around him are somewhat butch, I’ll admit. As for length, well, I’m short of time around Christmas like everyone else. I’ll add a bit more later, perhaps.

I’m still intrigued about the feminising. Is it the pastel colours? They denote infancy as much as anythig else. Please elaborate, for my interest…

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Yea your completely right. I thought the pills were making him younger and female. I think it was because of the long hair and the fact they made him wear a scrunchy. Though I also assumed the pills were going to turn his penis into a vagina, but if I think about it, It’s just making him younger. As for pastels, I rock them and I have a male appendage. Actually no I don’t, but I don’t think It led me to believe they were being feminized. :stuck_out_tongue:

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Just to be clear, when I said no I don’t, I meant I don’t wear pastels. I do have a male appendage.

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Your secret is safe with us, babypins. :o

Thanks for the response, anyway. It shows how an impression can be created without being specific.

Ever read Poe’s ‘Fall Of The House Of Usher’? Most people who read it clearly recall the narrator entering the house, but he never does. He’s outside, then suddenly he’s inside. Sleight of penmanship.

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

Fine I love pasteles. I can’t live in a closet anymore. Tomorrow at Christmas dinner I’m going to tell everyone that I love, not like, but love pasteles. I can see it now. Dad will disowned me and mom will burst into tears and ask god where she want wrong. But no I’ve never read that story by poe. Poe doesn’t strike me as a man who likes pasteles. ;D

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

You can still live a normal life and love pastels! There are support groups for this very issue! I go to Pastels Anonymous. We meet on the second Tuesday of each week during the 13th month of the year. ;D

In all semi seriousness though, I like these kinds of stories for the rebellion factor. Be it immediate or eventual. I wasn’t a rebellious child despite what my mom might say so I kinda missed that phase. The thought of fighting back with either words or actions in these cases always intrigues me. Something tells me that that’s wishful thinking in THIS case.

Oh well. I can always dream. Great job though!

Re: Man and numan - A Tale Of Our Times

A typical SallyK story. Wonderful and scary at the same time. Sally has the ability to reduce a man to nothing in no time at all. This is just another example of the same thing. Great Job Sally. I have to add these must be some incredibly effective lessons and pills to make a man no longer cherish his genitalia. Looking forward to more.