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This is a tale set at some time in the future. There's been a change, a fundamental change in the way society is organised. No-one knows quite why this has happened, but half the population isn't complaining. The change proceeds at different paces in different places, but it is unstoppable. It is known as The Adjustment... Chapter 1 - The scene is set. Sam had caught the early bus home from work. There had been a lot of filing to do and Ms Deborah Playfair, Sam's boss, had let the team go home early as a reward for their hard work. Sam was sprawled in one of the big leather chairs in the living area, watching television, when he heard Chris drive in. "Home early, darling," said Chris as she slid her briefcase onto a side table. "Ms Playfair let us go early," Sam replied, looking up at his wife as she flicked through the mail Sam had collected from the letterbox near the drive. She put the worthwhile stuff aside, and expertly spun the junk mail unopened into the nearby rubbish bin which Sam had just emptied as part of his chores. Chris looked imposing in her jeans, boots and open-necked business shirt. Even without the Cuban heels she favoured, she was around six feet tall. Her toned body and well-cut short hair gave her the look of a young Amazon, which indeed she was. Sam felt extra small looking up at her, and stood up. In his work-issue sneakers, he gave her a good six inches in height. The girlish yellow jumpsuit all his team wore hardly helped. Chris smiled at him, and pulled him towards her with an arm over his shoulder and around his back. She kissed him on the forehead, but had turned away by the time Sam, grinning and with his eyes closed, had risen onto his toes to kiss her on the mouth. Chris was busy opening the letters addressed to her. Sam planted his heels on the ground and opened his eyes. Chris was reading her bank statement. "Sam," she began, "Do you really think it's worth you working..." They had had this out before. "It's a good job!" Sam said defensively. "It's better..." "Sammy," Chris interrupted. "I'm not saying it's not, just that with Edith leaving, it just seems practical that you could do more work here. You could still do a day or two a week in transition. A lot of boys do. You'd still see your friends." "Chris, I'm not in transition, for a start," Sam said angrily. "Sam..." said Chris with concern. "OK," said Sam defiantly. "I don't drive. I'm a bit shorter. I'm not quite as strong. Things have changed at work, but I'm still, I'm still a..." Sam was thinking of what happened at night. He knew from the look on her face, that pitying but caring look on Chris's face that she was thinking the same thing. Sam felt his face flushing and the tears about to come. And worse. "Sammy, come here," said Chris gently, her arms outstretched. "I know that things are different. I know what's happening and I, I... But I'm still a man, Chris. I know I might be adjusting a little bit but I'm still a man!" Sam was sobbing now, as Chris held him close. She stroked the top of his head, pushing the long blonde hair behind Sam's ears. "Of course you are, honey, but you must just go with things," Chris said. "You're too aware, that's what Dr Hennig said, wasn't it? That's what makes you uncomfortable. You know what she said - changes are not just happening to you, they are you. Look at Ryan next door." "I'd rather not," said Sam. Ryan and Sal were 'adjusting' perfectly, it seemed. The television broke the silence. "Keep your boy happy!" boomed a confident female voice. "Transition can be a difficult time, and it's up to every numan to give their boys the love they need, especially in those intimate areas. A dry boy is a happy boy, and DriBoi can help. Our range..." Chris picked up the remote and stabbed it at the TV. "I hate those 'numan' ads," he said, beginning to cry. Chris laughed. "It's just an ad, Sammy," she said. "And you do wear DriBois, don't you? Anyway, she's right. It is a bit difficult for you because you are so aware. You know that Ryan has been in daytime DriBois for weeks, don't you, and he's loving being at home." "I only need them at night, Chris, you know that, and Ryan's a... a..." Sam was going to say 'wanker', but it suddenly struck him how inappropriate the term was now. All boys, that is, men in transition, Sam corrected himself, were first affected 'down there'. First, the loss of libido and the capacity for erections. Then, the awful shrinking, and having to sit down to pee. At least the 'failure to achieve erection' came first. With the shrinking came the loss of body hair. It was so common now that underwear for boys - the sort Chris now bought for Sam - looked like the things girls had always worn, even if some boys underpants had an extra layer 'for security'. Fully grown women, or 'numen', Sam thought miserably, were now the ones with bulges in their jeans. Sam thought of the mound under Chris' jeans, and the luxuriant pubic hair covering it, which like most women, she no longer shaved or even trimmed, not that he had the same access there which he once... "Oh, Sammy!" Chris was saying. Sam snapped out of his angry reverie. His eyes followed his wife's, to the flattish crotch of his yellow work overalls. A dark, wet patch was spreading from the bottom of the crotch seam down his legs. That hadn't happened for a week. He shouldn't have got so worked up, Sam thought. He could feel it happening now, but couldn't stop it. Sam was silent as Chris helped him change. He objected to having to wear a DriBoi so early in the evening, and Chris let him wear his usual briefs. "Your next appointment with Dr Hennig is the day after tomorrow," Chris said. "You'd better mark this wetting on your calendar." "OK," said Chris. There wasn't much more to be said on the matter. The calendar from the clinic already had x's all over it from wet nights, and a few from accidents in the car or when he didn't make the bathroom in time. Now there were two, three actually, when he didn't even know it was happening. Four if the one in the garden counted, when he told Chris he tripped over in the way to the bathroom. Still, stupid Ryan next door, Sam's old drinking and golf buddy, was in thick DriBois all day, and didn't seem to care less. No wonder he was at home all day. To be continued...