One Flew Over the Doves' Nest

Chapter 1
One Flew Over the Doves' Nest

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Chapter Description: Mike is on death row when he gets the chance to be free in exchange for taking part in an unusual experiment. He will become a student at the Doves' Nest, a most unusual reform school.

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One Flew Over the Doves’ Nest

by Filthy Mind

AUTHOR’S NOTE: There is some ugly, racist language in this story. The author would like to make it very clear that these terms are only being used to suggest the racism and general unpleasantness of the main character, and she absolutely does not endorse prejudice against any ethnic group.

"You sure about this, Mike?"

Mike looked over at the guard. In the seven months that Mike had been on death row, he had gotten to know the guards well. This one, Harry, was a fat, sneering chink who always laughed at his own shitty jokes. Out of all the guards on death row, Harry was the one that Mike hated most.

"Yeah," Mike said. "I’m sure."

"You know what they’ll do to you, at the Doves’ Nest? They told you everything?"

"They told me enough. All I care about is getting out of here. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen."

"Whatever it takes!" The guard laughed. "We’ll see if you think it was worth it, when it’s all done. There’s nothing in the world that could make me go though what you’re gonna do. It takes a special kind of guy to do this, Mike. A real special kind of guy."

Mike stared off into space, gritting his teeth.

"Maybe I’ll look you up sometime," the guard said. "After you’re free. I’ll be real curious to see how you turned out."

Mike stepped forward and gripped the bars tightly, staring Harry down.

"Don’t you worry, Harry. I bet you will see me again. Maybe I’ll look YOU up, huh? I’ll drop by some time, when you least expect it. We can talk over old times. You can introduce me to your little chink wife."

Harry’s smug smile faded.

"You think you’re bad now," Harry said. "But you won’t be scaring anybody, once they’re done with you."

Mike moved away from the bars to sit on his bunk.

"Maybe I’ll surprise you, Harry. Maybe I won’t be as different as you think. No matter what happens, I’ll always be me."

Harry snorted and walked off. Mike laid back on the bunk and closed his eyes. The procedure was first thing in the morning, and he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for hours. His stomach was churning, but not from hunger.

They said this procedure would make him a different person, but they were wrong. He would look different. That was all.

And he would be free.

In the morning they came and got him, and he was handcuffed and led to a black car. Not a van, or a bus. Just a car.

They drove for a few miles, and then they arrived behind a big, square, brick building with hardly any windows. This was it. The Doves’ Nest.

He was taken inside, the cuffs were removed and then some guards watched him as he took off all of his clothes and got onto a gurney. They strapped him down and wheeled him into a big, cold operating room. A lady doctor came in, she put an anesthesia mask over his face and told him to count backwards from 100. He got as far as 95, and that was that.

Mike was having a very vivid, very weird dream. He dreamed he was having sex with a beautiful brunette woman, but she was on top, and she had the cock and he had a pussy. She kept putting her fingers in his mouth, sliding her hand in as far as it would go. It hurt, but it also kind of felt good. He was drooling and his jaw ached, but because her hand was so far in his mouth, he couldn’t form the words to ask her to stop. She seemed familiar somehow, and as she fucked his pussy with her big cock, she spoke to him in a maddeningly faint voice, too dimly for him to make out what she was saying.

Finally it hurt so much that he started to wake up. But when he opened his eyes, what he saw made him think that he had to still be dreaming.

He had a body like a teenage girl, tan but soft and scrawny, with pointy little breasts and big, dark nipples. He really did have a pussy, but he wasn’t being fucked by some girl with a cock. He was being fucked by a machine.

He was on a cold, metal table. His weirdly slender, hairless legs were chained into stirrups, and a large, creaking machine was rapidly pumping a big, rubbery and very realistic dildo in and out of his pussy while another, smaller dildo was being slowly and gently pumped in and out of his mouth. He was wearing headphones, and a woman’s voice was saying something very quietly in his ears. He tried to scream, but the dildo between his teeth left him unable to do anything but moan.

"Uh-oh," said a woman’s voice from behind him. "It sounds like somebody’s awake."

He tried to turn his head, but he couldn’t. A youngish, curvy brunette wearing a lab coat stepped around so he could see her. He blinked, trying to believe his eyes. She was the girl from his dream.

"Good morning," she said, her voice syrupy sweet, like she was speaking to a frightened child. "Do you know where you are, honey?"

He struggled to remember, and then it came to him: the deal he’d made.

A few weeks back, some doctors came to him and told him he could go free if he agreed to take part in a medical experiment that would turn him into a teenage girl. It had sounded crazy, but he was three weeks from the gas chamber, and anything was better than dying. All he’d have to do was become a girl and go to a special school for a few weeks, and then it would be all over. He’d be a free man. Well, a free girl. But he’d be free.

Nobody had told him about this freaky shit with the dildos, though.

He groaned and looked at the doctor pleadingly. She nodded, switched off the machine and carefully removed the dildo from his mouth. She didn’t remove the one from his pussy, though.

She lifted the headphones from his head. He flexed his sore jaw and looked at her furiously.

"What the hell are you doing to me?"

"Just relax, Michelle."

He grimaced. Michelle. He’d had to pick what his girl name was going to be, and he’d chosen that. He’d wanted to just keep the name Mike - after all, girls could be named Mike. But no, they insisted he pick a new legal name, a more feminine one. So, he’d picked Michelle, the closest thing to his own name. As soon as he got out of here he was going to go back to being called Mike, but for now he’d have to go along with this Michelle bullshit.

"What’s this machine for? What kind of sick shit are you people doing to me?"

"This machine is here to make you feel good. Try to enjoy it."

"Enjoy it?! I thought I’d wake up in a hospital bed, not getting raped by some robot!"

She smirked.

"After your procedure, you did wake up in a hospital bed. You’ve done all kinds of things over the last few weeks, but you don’t remember them because of all the drugs and hypnosis. You’ve been semi-conscious while we continued to tinker with your body chemistry and we worked on your psychological reconditioning. You had your last drug treatment a few hours ago. I didn’t think you’d return to full consciousness quite this soon."

She gestured at the machine.

"This is an important part of your emotional and sexual retraining."

"Sexual retraining? What are you talking about?"

He struggled against his restraints, but the doctor made a shushing noise and stroked his forehead.

"Michelle, didn’t you read the forms you signed? This was all covered in there."

"Nobody told me anything about getting fucked by a machine!"

"Your emotional and sexual retraining was described in the forms you signed."

His mind raced. There had been pages and pages of forms, and he hadn’t read them too carefully because he had just wanted to sign them and get it over with so he could be free. Had there really been stuff in those forms about getting fucked by machines?

The doctor smiled at him. She was really beautiful, which somehow just made all of this even worse.

"I’m sorry if this is upsetting," she said, "but we were very clear about why you’re here. By the time you leave here, you’re going to be a good girl - meek, quiet, exceptionally feminine and submissive. That’s the goal, here at the Doves’ Nest. To take dangerous individuals and eliminate them as threats to society without having to put them to death. This machine helps you get used to feeling small and helpless, and it encourages you to be passive and receptive."

Mike remembered the doctors saying a lot of stuff about teaching him to be non-aggressive at the school, but he’d figured that they’d meant... well, TEACHING. Lectures, sitting around talking with shrinks, shit like that. Not using robots to fuck him.

He looked down at his body. He was really a teenage girl. He’d tried to prepare himself for it, but the reality was so much more awful than he’d imagined. He was so little and soft and hairless. This was the kind of body that a guy liked to see in "barely legal" porn, not on himself.

Waking up to find that he was female was bad enough, but the dildo that was still halfway inside of him was the worst part. He could feel the damn thing, even now, between the walls of his aching pussy. It had penetrated him, and fucked him for God knew how long.

"I know you’ll find this hard to believe," the doctor said, "but you’ve actually had a lot of fun with this machine. It’s given you dozens of orgasms. Maybe hundreds."

"What? It has not!"

"It sure has." She gave him a wink. "I’ve watched you thrash around and whimper, and our sensors have recorded all of your responses for study. Your new body is unusually orgasmic, and sexual gratification has proven to be an excellent motivator for you. You’ve struggled against your retraining, but I’m confident that you’re on your way to becoming a very polite and obedient young lady. Trust me, you’re sure not the man you used to be."

She reached over to the switch that turned the machine on and off.

"So," she said, "How about a few more minutes? You were just about to have another orgasm, when you woke up."

"No!"

He looked fearfully at the machine, and at his moist pussy lips wrapped around that dildo. Could this thing actually make him come? No, it was impossible. Maybe it had happened when he was unconscious, but it could never happen when he was awake.

"Please," he said. He hated having to ask a woman for anything, but he had no choice. "Please. Don’t do it."

She looked delighted.

"You said ’please’! Good girl! When you came here, you never would’ve asked so nicely."

He looked away. He already hated this smug bitch’s guts.

"Still," she said, "I’m afraid you do have another few minutes before today’s session is done, and we really can’t bend the rules. So, open wide."

He started to tell her to go to hell, and while his mouth was open she quickly slid the dildo back between his lips. Then she flipped the switch, and he felt the machine starting to pump the dildos in his pussy and mouth. In and out, in and out. He grunted and tried to break free, but it was hopeless. The machine was fucking him again, and he couldn’t stop it.

"Don’t worry," the doctor said. "You really like this. Just relax and give it a minute, and it’ll feel so good."

He tried to turn his head so she couldn’t put the headphones back on him, but he had something around his neck that made it hard to move his head much, and the dildo was shoved too far into his mouth. In an instant she had the headphones back on, and then she stood back to watch.

He was relieved to find that the dildos hurt. At least he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by coming while this crazy doctor watched him with that little smirk on her face. He would just lie back and it would hurt, and eventually she would switch off the machine and this horrible experience would be over. The voice in his ears was whispering about something, but he couldn’t make it out.

He tried not to think about what was happening, focusing instead on his plans for when he got out. He was going to get through this. They would think they had him under control, and then once he was free he was going to kill Jenny, his younger sister. It was all her fault that he was in this damn mess, and he was going to make her pay.

When he was 23, Mike shot two people in a bank robbery that went wrong. He was in jail for nine years before he got paroled, and he’d only been free for a few months when one of his old prison buddies convinced him they should rob a liquor store.

It had looked like such an easy job, but just when they were about to leave, the cops showed up. Mike’s partner got away, but Mike shot two cops before he was caught. One of the cops was just wounded, but the other one died while Mike was on trial. Mike knew he was screwed, then. Killing a cop was some serious shit.

The prosecution brought in all these assholes from Mike’s past to testify about how violent and unstable he was. Jenny was one of the witnesses against him. Jenny had always been the goody-goody in their family, the pretty girl who got good grades and good jobs, the one that everybody liked. Even their stupid parents had liked Jenny better, they always used to ask Mike why he couldn’t be more like his little sister. As soon as Jenny took the stand and started crying, that was it, it was all over for Mike. She said all this crap about every bad thing he ever did, even stuff from when he was a kid, like the time he killed that cat. She said that she still loved him, even after everything he’d done. But if she loved him, why would she betray him like that?

He ended up on death row, thanks to his own damn sister. If she hadn’t testified against him, he would’ve gotten life. In 15 or 20 years, he probably would’ve gotten paroled. He would’ve been a normal man, free to live his life. Instead, thanks to her, he ended up here, as a girl getting fucked by a machine. This was all Jenny’s fault. If she could see him now, she’d probably think it was hilarious. Her big brother turned into a little teenage bitch, his feet up in stirrups, a dildo in his pussy.

Well, even if he looked like some stupid little girl, he was still Mike inside, and he was going to make his sister pay for what she had done to him. As soon as he got out of this place, he was going to kill Jenny. He didn’t much care what happened, after that. Making Jenny pay was all that mattered.

He tried to focus on his plans for revenge and ignore what the machine was doing to him, but as it pumped away inside his pussy, he felt a funny tickle that made it hard to concentrate. It was a feeling kind of like he had to pee, but better. It was way down in his belly. And it was getting stronger.

Oh, no. It was starting to feel really good. The doctor was just standing there, watching him and grinning, and he absolutely couldn’t let her see that he was enjoying this even a little bit. But now it was getting even better. He grit his teeth around the dildo in his mouth, to take his mind off the growing pleasure in his belly.

Sucking on the dildo made him think of sucking on his thumb, when he was little. It was this big, thick thing, hard yet just flexible enough to sink his teeth into, and it felt strangely reassuring to have it in his mouth. He liked the way it slowly slid in and out between his lips. He didn’t want to like it, but it did feel really nice.

He caught himself. The doctor said they’d been doing this to him for weeks, that they’d been reconditioning him. They must have brainwashed him to accept this, they had done stuff to his mind so it actually felt good. He had to fight it. He couldn’t actually enjoy this humiliating thing they were doing to him.

He desperately tried to think about something else, anything else but the ticklish pleasure that was building inside of him. But he found himself wondering what it would be like to suck a real cock. A really big one. Maybe it’d be fun. If a guy came in your mouth, it’d probably taste really good. It’d be fun to swallow. He wished there was a cute guy fucking him now, instead of the machine. He wanted to swallow a cute guy’s come.

The dildo in his pussy was still pumping, and he couldn’t help moaning a little. He wished the machine would go faster. And just like that, it did. Now it was pumping him deep and fast, and the tickle deep inside his tummy was growing. He tried to move his hips slightly, to get into a better position. The woman’s voice in his ear was saying something about his vagina, but he still couldn’t make it out. Something about cocks inside of him. What was she saying? It seemed important.

He was so close to coming, now. The dildos were going to make him come, and it would feel good, but not as good as a real cock would feel.

No. He couldn’t come. Not like this.

But he was going to, there was no stopping it.

Why couldn’t he fight this? Why was he so weak? He had to be stronger. He was a man. He wasn’t queer. He didn’t like cocks. He couldn’t let them make him enjoy this.

And then he was whimpering as he came, his voice muffled by the rubber cock in his mouth.

Mike felt utterly spent, sleepy and sweaty, he was barely able to keep his eyes open as the dildo was popped out of his mouth and the headphones were lifted off his head. Then the other dildo slid out of pussy, and that woke him up. He felt a chilly emptiness between his thighs.

The doctor unfastened his restraints and he sat up woozily. She gestured for him to get up, and she took his hand as he struggled to get to his feet. The doctor was a lot taller than he’d expected, she had to be well over six feet. She towered over him. He looked around the room. There was nobody but the two of them.

"No guards?"

"We don’t need them. Your programming has made it impossible for you to disobey my orders, let alone become violent. Besides, I’m a lot bigger and stronger than you are."

He looked at her dubiously, but then he realized that she wasn’t an usually tall woman after all. He was very small. He looked around the room. Everything seemed weirdly oversized. He looked back at the doctor.

"How short am I?"

"Maybe five foot one, on your tip-toes. You’re seeing the world from a whole new perspective, huh?"

"But how? How did you make me shorter?"

"Shh. Don’t worry your little head about that, Michelle."

"But it’s impossible. I mean, you can’t shrink bones."

"We didn’t shrink your bones, not exactly. We changed everything to make you a female in adolescence. This literally isn’t the same body you used to have. Like, see these little hip bones?"

She put her hand on his bare bottom, and he squirmed to get away. He put one arm across his chest and another in front of his crotch. He wished he had something to cover his ass. All of a sudden, being naked was much more complicated, he had new parts to cover up. The doctor looked him up and down and grinned.

"Those aren’t the hips you were born with," she said. "You have a brand new pelvis, with a womb and ovaries, you have everything other girls have. When we first started your sexual retraining, you even had a hymen."

There was a mirror in the corner of the room, but he didn’t want to see it yet.

"How old did you make me look?"

"It’s not just a question of how old you look. You are a teenager, your whole body has been changed and your age has been reset. And we’re not really sure how old you are now, actually. I suspect you’re around 18, but some of my colleagues believe you’re two or even three years younger. We’re positive you’ve reached your full height, though. Get used to asking for help when you need stuff off the top shelf."

He looked down at his tiny frame, horrified. It was impossible to imagine being this little for the rest of his life. He felt like a child.

"You’re lucky to be as old as you are," the doctor said. "The procedure is still experimental. We always shoot for 18, but it’s a challenge and we prefer to err on the side of younger rather than older. We’ve had a few subjects who turned into children, just nine or ten years old. You’ll meet a few of them during your stay, here."

"A few of them? How many people have you done this to?"

"Oh, gosh, nearly 150. There are only 37 of you here at the school right now, though. A few of our girls will be leaving soon, and a few more will be coming in."

He was still struggling to cover his nude body. She snickered.

"Want something to wear?"

"Yes. Very much."

She stepped over to a locker and opened it up, taking out what looked like a schoolgirl uniform.

"Here you go," she said. "Put this on."

He looked at the outfit in her hands. Lacy, white panties and a matching bra; a white, short-sleeved, button-up shirt; a plaid, pleated skirt; white socks and shiny black shoes that looked like something a little girl would wear. He’d known he was going to have to go to school, but nobody had said anything about him having to dress like that.

"You have got to be shitting me."

"Language, young lady." She giggled. "This will be your uniform, while you’re here with us at the Doves’ Nest."

"I’m not wearing that. I’ll do the school stuff, but I’m not dressing like that."

The doctor gave him a wicked grin.

"Michelle, put it on, Michelle."

Suddenly he felt an overpowering urge to do as she said. He was almost trembling as he struggled to resist.

"That’s your programming," she said. "I say your name before and after a command, and you’re compelled to obey. Now, Michelle, put on your cute little schoolgirl outfit, Michelle."

His hands were in motion. He watched them with horror as they grabbed the panties and slid them up over his smooth legs. He shimmied them into place on his hips, then he began to fumble with the little bra, pulling it on over his shoulders and scooping his budding breasts into place. He struggled to reach the clasps in the back, but then he felt the doctor’s warm hands between his shoulder blades, hooking the bra shut.

"There you go," the doctor said. "You’re all fastened up, now."

He turned to give her a nasty look, but before he could he found himself pulling on the white shirt and buttoning it up. Then he was stepping into the skirt and zipping it up along the side. He looked down at himself miserably. He was all dressed up in his uniform now, except for the shoes and socks.

"VERY good girl," the doctor said. "You got dressed in under a minute! You’re a very obedient young lady, aren’t you?"

He didn’t say anything. He hated this bitch so damn much.

"Now," she said, "You just need your little shoes and socks, and you’ll be all prettied up for school. Michelle, finish getting dressed, Michelle."

With a frustrated grunt he gathered up the shoes and socks and pulled them on. Then he found himself standing there on display before her, his hands clasped meekly together, his head bowed. He felt like a poseable doll that she was dressing up, as a game. He had become a living Barbie.

"All done," the doctor said. "Would you like to see yourself?"

He wasn’t sure how to answer. As curious as he was to see his face, he was also dreading it. She led him over to the mirror, and he gasped when he saw a little Asian schoolgirl looking back at him. He reached up to touch his chubby cheeks and button nose, and the girl in the mirror did the same.

"I’m... You made me a chink!"

The doctor raised one eyebrow.

"That’s an ugly word, Michelle."

"What did you do to me? Why did you change my race?!"

"Every girl here is a genetic duplicate of somebody else. We use the DNA from a healthy female volunteer, and we’re able to transform you into her identical twin. Well, actually, the woman who donated her DNA to transform you is about 20 years older than you are, now. But you’re her, when she was a teenager."

He turned sideways, looking at his body and trying to accept the idea that this girl was him. He was some chink girl’s identical twin.

"She’s a lot more curvy than you are now," the doctor said. "She told us that she was pretty petite all though her teens, and then she suddenly blossomed, becoming much more voluptuous when she was around 19. So, don’t get too used to that little girl figure of yours."

He was struggling not to break down. He’d always hated chinks. Out of all the races, they were the worst - ugly, yellow-skinned, tiny people with slanting eyes and buck teeth. He blinked, and was horrified to see those chink eyes blink back at him, so brown they were almost black.

He had thick, inky black hair and a flat, nubby little nose. He curled his upper lip. Did he have buck teeth? They did stick out a little bit. It wasn’t noticeable when his mouth was closed, but when he smiled, you could see it. He held out his hand and grimaced at the color of his skin. He had thought this was a tan, but no. He was yellow, permanently.

The girl in the mirror was really pretty, for a chink. Chink girls could be pretty... but they were still chinks!

He turned to face the doctor.

"Nobody said I was gonna be a chink! This wasn’t part of the deal!"

She gave him a withering stare.

"You’re not a ’chink,’ Michelle. You’re Korean."

"I don’t care where the fuck this body is from. Nobody said I was gonna be oriental!"

She rolled her eyes.

"Please, the word is Asian. This isn’t 1950. Nobody says oriental anymore."

"Well, God damn it, whatever I am, I never signed up for this! Make me white again!"

"That’s not going to happen, Michelle. As we told you before the procedure, there’s no reversing this. This is your new body, and you’re going to have to get used to it. Your psychological profile indicated that you had deep misogynistic and racist tendencies, so living as an Asian female will be a very good learning experience for you. "

He looked at his strange, innocent face in the mirror and tried to fight the tears, but it was impossible. He turned away from his unfamiliar reflection and began to sob. He hadn’t cried since he was a kid, but he couldn’t stop himself.

The doctor made a sympathetic sound and rubbed his shoulder, treating him like a kid throwing a tantrum.

"It’s OK, sweetie. Don’t be ashamed to cry. You have a lot of estrogen in your system, and you’ll find it much easier to cry, now."

"Fuck you, bitch. You made me a chink girl!"

She sighed.

"Come on, Michelle. Are you really that upset about being Asian? What’s so awful about it?"

He was going to tell her to go to hell, but he broke down sobbing again. Being a girl was much worse than he’d expected, being compelled to obey orders made it worse still, and being a chink on top of all that was just too much.

He looked back at the mirror. A weeping Korean schoolgirl was looking back at him. This was him. His face was like a mask he couldn’t take off. He looked down at his soft, chubby, golden hands, with their hairless, barely-there knuckles. These were somebody else’s hands, on his body. A little chink girl’s hands. He sniffled, trying to make himself stop crying.

"Please," he said. "Isn’t there some way to change me to white? Can’t I at least be a white girl?"

The doctor looked like she was trying to control her temper.

"No. You’re going to have to stop thinking like that, Michelle. You’re an Asian American now, and a very pretty one at that, and that’s nothing to cry about, for heaven’s sake."

The girl in the mirror had tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked little and sad and helpless, like a child crying for her mommy. He had to get control of himself.

He turned away from the mirror and stood up straight. No matter what he looked like, he was still himself, inside. A man. A proud, white man. They couldn’t take that away from him.

"Come on," the doctor said gently. "It’s time for you to go out and see the rest of the school and meet the other girls."

He scowled. ’The other girls’. Other men who had been transformed, like him. God, this was going to be torture.

The doctor went over and opened the door, gesturing for him to follow. They stepped out into the hall, and he was startled to see that it really did look just like a school. Schoolgirls of various ages were rushing back and forth, clutching books to their chests, looking like they were on their way to or from classes.

He watched them pass, struggling to accept that they were all men, like him. They all looked just like girls. He noticed that they were all pretty, too. You would never see this many pretty girls in a normal school.

He looked over at the doctor, wondering what was going to happen next.

"You start classes in the morning," she said. "For now, let’s get you back to your room."

She led him around a couple of corners, to a long hall that was dark and quiet. She opened one door, and they stepped inside. There were two beds, and a beautiful, busty, blonde schoolgirl was stretched out on one. She sat up on her elbow to look at them.

"You look awake," she said to Mike. "Are you awake?"

Mike blinked, confused.

"Yeah. I’m awake."

"Finally! You’ve been walking around like a zombie for days."

The doctor gave Mike’s shoulder a squeeze.

"I’ll leave you girls to get to know each other. See you in the morning."

She left. Mike sat down on the second bed and looked over at the blonde.

"You’ve seen me before?"

"Sure. We’ve been dorm mates for a few days. You’ve been staggering around, muttering to yourself. You don’t remember any of that?"

"No. Nothing."

"Wow. I guess you were really stoned!"

She laughed. She was just gorgeous, with sparkling, green eyes. And those tits. Mike had to remind himself that this girl wasn’t really a girl. She was a man, like him.

"So," she said slyly, "Do you remember any of your sessions with Mr. Roboto?"

Mike was puzzled. She didn’t mean...?

"The... machine? The thing that..?"

"Yeah. We call it Mr. Roboto. It feels pretty bad at first, but don’t worry, you get used to it soon. Before long, you even get to like it."

Mike didn’t say anything. Did they really use the same machine for all of the men, there? It was a disgusting idea. He hoped that they at least changed the dildos for every person.

"It’s so weird to finally see you saying things that make sense," the blonde said. "I feel like I already know you, but I guess this is the first time we’ve really met. I’m Amber."

"Amber? What’s your guy name?"

The girl looked uncomfortable.

"I can’t say it. None of us can."

"What?"

"No, really. Try and say yours."

Mike snorted.

"Well, I’m... Mi... Michelle."

He blinked.

"I mean, I’m... Michelle. I’m... Michelle! Why can’t I say my real name?"

"It’s the brainwashing. They really did a number on us. There’s all kinds of ways that we’re different from who we used to be. Like, I used to be a big, mean black dude. I killed five girls. I used to kill girls who looked like I do, now!"

Mike looked at her fearfully. She laughed.

"Don’t worry, I couldn’t hurt anybody, now. I don’t want to, not anymore. In the old days, if somebody looked at me funny, I’d want to kill them. Now, even if somebody was kicking my ass, I’d probably just cry and beg ’em to stop, I couldn’t fight back at all. You’re the same way, you’ll see."

Mike tried not to look as nervous as he felt. Even if this girl insisted she wasn’t a killer anymore, she was still a lot bigger than he was, and he couldn’t trust her.

"It’s so weird," Amber said. "I used to be into cars and sports and stuff, but since I came to the Doves’ Nest, all of that seems so boring to me. I’ve gotten really into clothes. And makeup, I love makeup. I even have stuffed animals!"

She reached behind her and held up a little bear.

"This is Mr. Cubbins. Isn’t he cute?"

Mike swallowed, unsure of how to answer.

"Yeah," he said. "Real cute."

Amber chuckled.

"I know, it’s so queer. But I can’t help it, I like girly stuff, now. You do too, you’ll see."

She looked at Mike for a long moment.

"Hey," she said, "How old are you anyhow, small fry?"

Mike shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Amber had a hungry, flirty expression. Yesterday, if a curvy young blonde had given him that look, he would have been thrilled. But now it was scary. Amber was a killer. And she was so big. Everybody was bigger than Mike, now. He felt like a dwarf.

"I’m 35," he said.

He was actually 32, but suddenly he really wanted to seem older and more mature. He wished he’d said 40. Or 50.

"No," Amber said. "I don’t mean how old did you used to be. I mean, how old are you, NOW?"

"Uh... Well, the doctor said she thinks my body is 18."

Amber shook her head.

"No way are you 18."

"Well... some of the other doctors think I’m younger."

"Yeah. You’re just a sweet little babyface, aren’t you?"

Mike crossed his legs tightly and pulled down the hem of his skirt, wishing it covered more of his thighs. It was bizarre to feel intimidated by a teenage blonde. Suddenly, he missed his private cell on death row.

Amber came over and sat beside him, just a little too close. She gave him a big, pretty grin.

"So," she said. "Wanna make out?"

Mike looked at her incredulously.

"WHAT?"

"Come on, I won’t bite. I’ve been watching you all week, and you’re so cute. I mean, look at us. You’re a hot girl. I’m a hot girl. How about some lezzie action?"

"No way! We’re both guys!"

Amber got up from the bed and struck a sexy pose, her feet wide apart, her hips cocked and her arms behind her head.

"Do I look like a guy to you?"

"Amber, stop it!"

With a naughty grin Amber reached down and started to slowly hike up her skirt, so her panties were almost showing. Mike looked away just in time.

"Go ahead," Amber said. "You can check and see if I’m a guy."

"Amber, NO!"

Amber sighed, lowered her skirt, and sat back down on her own bed.

"Fine, ya little spoilsport. Let me guess: you’re only like boys now, right? Just like almost every other girl in this damn place."

Mike turned back to face her. She didn’t look like she was joking.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, most girls here end up being only into guys, after their retraining. I’m still bi at least, so I’m one of the lucky few."

"That’s crazy. The retraining can’t just... turn you gay. Can it?"

"Sure. Like I said, they change you a lot, by the time you leave. I was totally straight, when I got here. Now guys get me really horny. I’ve even got a boyfriend."

Mike shook his head, struggling to process it all.

"A boyfriend?"

"Yeah. His name is Ray, he works as one of the studs here. He’s the best one, all the girls think so."

Mike was starting to get a bad headache.

"Wait. He works here as a stud? What does that mean?"

"Well, that’s what we call them. After you’ve had sex with Mr. Roboto enough times, when you’re ready to try it with a real guy, they let you have sex with one of the studs. There are cute guys here who have sex with us, that’s part of their job. They’re all really cute, but Ray is so sweet and smart and awesome, and his cock is huge. I’m so in love with him."

Her voice was becoming more dreamy and distracted-sounding.

"He told me that he likes me better than all the other girls, because I’m special. Ray loves me, as much as I love him. But he’s just my boyfriend for now, he’s not my forever boyfriend. After I graduate, I’m going to leave here and go find the man I’ll love forever. Then we’ll get married, and I’ll have his babies. I’ll be a good wife and mommy, and it will be a fresh start for me, and I will have a positive impact on my community, because I love people and I love myself."

She shook her head, seeming to come out of a trance.

"Whoa. Sorry, that was the brainwashing talking. We all start talking like that, sometimes."

Mike squirmed in disgust.

"I’m never gonna do any of that stuff. I’m never gonna fuck another dude. I’ll never let Ray or any of those other guys touch me."

"Yeah, you will. Your retraining will make you really want it. Besides, you have to, before they’ll let you go free. You have to convince them that you’ve totally become a new person, that you think of yourself as a teenage girl and you’re sexually submissive and all that stuff."

Mike flopped back on the bed, feeling nauseated.

"God, the gas chamber would’ve been better than this. This place is fucking SICK."

"It’s pretty weird, yeah. But you’ll get used to it."

She hopped up off her bed.

"Hey, wanna meet some of the other girls? It’s dinner time, we can go grab some chow."

Mike sighed. He just wanted to be alone, but he was starving.

"Sure. Fine."

He got up from his bed and followed her. Once they were in the hall, Mike glanced over his shoulder.

"Don’t we need to lock the door?"

Amber giggled.

"No, silly. There aren’t any thieves, here. We’re all good little girls."

She had that glazed look in her eyes again. Mike shuddered slightly as they started up the hall together. Whatever they had done to Amber, he was sure glad that it hadn’t happened to him. His brains were kind of mixed up, but at least he wasn’t a grinning, girly-girl idiot, like her.

As they turned a corner, he glanced down and realized Amber was holding his hand. He yanked his hand away.

"Amber! Don’t try to hold my hand!"

She looked confused.

"I didn’t, sweetie. You took my hand."

Mike looked down at his hand. Now that he thought about it, he DID remember reaching over and taking Amber’s hand. He couldn’t even trust his own hands, anymore.

"Don’t be embarrassed," Amber said. "We all hold hands, here. I like holding your hand. It feels nice."

This was too much. Mike reached over and gave Amber a little shove.

"Stop talking like that! Stop talking like some little airhead bitch. You gotta snap out of it. You’re a man, damn it. We’re men."

"You shoved me, Michelle." She had big, sad eyes, like a wounded doe. "That hurt. Nice girls don’t shove."

Amber blinked, coming out of another trance. She looked appalled.

"God," she said, "it gets harder to control myself all the time. Sometimes, I think I’m just gonna turn into that girl, and never come back."

Mike squared his shoulders.

"You just gotta hold on to who you are, dude. They think they can turn us into stupid little girls, but they’re wrong. We’ll get through this, and then we’ll be free, and we can do whatever the fuck we want."

Amber smiled.

"You’re right, man. I know you’re right. Thanks."

She bit her lip, hesitating.

"But, um, there’s just one thing..."

"Yeah?"

"Please don’t say the F-word again, OK? Nice girls don’t swear."

A minute later, they arrived at the cafeteria. Mike felt a creeping horror as he looked at the tables full of little schoolgirls, all around them. Every girl in the place was a man, a violent criminal. They all looked so pretty and innocent, happily chattering away as they ate.

Amber led them to a table full of girls, five teens and one very quiet, tiny blonde who looked about eight at most. Amber introduced Mike to everybody. He tried not to stare at the little girl. Could she really be a man?

He ate quickly, trying not to listen to the girly conversations about makeup, clothes and their "boyfriends". His attention was caught when he heard Amber talking about him.

"Michelle just woke up this afternoon," Amber said. "She still says bad words sometimes, but I know she’s really a nice girl, like all of us, and we should all be friends with her."

"She does seem nice," said a sweet-looking, chubbyish redhead named Julie. "I’d really like to be friends with you, Michelle."

The other girls all chimed in, saying they were eager to be his friend. Mike looked around. These were guys fresh from death row? He seemed to be the only person in the whole place who wasn’t a giggling, girly moron.

"Uh, thanks," he said. "But to be honest, I’m not really looking for a lot of pals. I just wanna get through all this in a hurry, and get free."

"Don’t be shy," Julie said, "We’re all friends. School is a wonderful opportunity for young girls to learn and grow, and it will be so much more fulfilling if you share the experience with friends."

Mike couldn’t take another minute of this.

"OK, enough! What’s the matter with all of you? Quit talking like a bunch of damn little girls! You’re grown men!"

They all looked guilty.

"We know," said the tiny blonde. "But we can’t help it. We’ve all been bwainwathed."

Mike looked at her uncertainly.

"You’ve all been..?"

"They’ve bwainwathed uth," she said. "They’ve uthed dwugth and hypnothith and they’ve gotten inthide ouw headth, and now we aww act wike thtupid widdew kidth."

Mike tried not to laugh at the poor kid’s speech impediment. Being turned into a teenage chink was bad, but at least he hadn’t been turned into some lisping little princess.

"Well," Mike said, "we just gotta try and hold on to who we really are. Like you, who were you, before you came here?"

The girl’s lower lip quivered, and she looked like she was trying not to burst into tears.

"Tina was a child killer," Julie said. "She was in all the papers. She killed little girls and did all kinds of gross sex stuff to them."

Tina started to cry.

"I wath howwibew," she said. "I done a wot of awfuw, unfogive-abew thingth! I can’t evah make up fo’ aww the bad thingth I did! I’m beyond wedemption!"

"No," said a girl named Heather. "You were real bad when you were a man, but you’re not that person anymore, Tina. Now you’re a good little girl!"

All of the girls chimed in about what a good little girl Tina was, and took turns stroking her hair and cooing to her. Mike looked around at them all, feeling sick. Child killers, now turned into simpering little girls themselves. He stood up from the table.

"I’ve had enough," he said. "I’m going back to bed."

He had just made it back to the dorm room and sat down on his bed when Amber appeared in the doorway behind him. He gave her a sour look.

"What are you doing back here? Don’t you want to hang around with all your little girlfriends?"

"No. I want to stay with you. I really liked those things you said. I wanna act like a man, like you!"

Mike smiled, relieved that he’d gotten through to her. He held out his hand for Amber to shake. She shook it, and Mike was not surprised by her soft, limp little handshake. He squeezed back hard, and she grimaced.

"Ow!"

"Come on," he said. "You can do it. Shake like a man."

Amber squeezed back with just a tiny bit of force, looking nervous.

"Is that too hard, Michelle? Am I hurting you?"

"Stop thinking like a girl! Just shake."

"But you’re so little! I don’t wanna hurt your hand."

"Don’t worry about me. Just do it."

Amber gave a squeeze that almost pinched Mike’s hand, and then she pulled away and giggled.

"That was so fun! I was shaking hands, just like a boy!"

Mike clenched his jaw. At least it was a start.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, you were."

"It’s so exciting! I feel tingly all over! I... I remember being a boy! I wanna do more boy stuff!"

Mike gave her a look.

"Boy stuff? Like what?"

"I don’t know." She considered. "Can we arm wrestle? I used to do that in jail, when I was a man. I had big muscles, and I always won. Can we do it, Michelle?"

She pulled over a bedside table, rolled up her sleeve, got into position and gave him a big, pretty smile. Mike thought it over. He felt like he was starting to reach Amber. If he went along with this, maybe it would awaken more of her male side.

"OK. But not too rough. Like you said, I’m little."

He faced her, put his elbow on the table and grasped her hand.

"OK," she said. "Ready?"

"As I’ll ever be."

"1... 2... 3... Go!"

Mike started to pull at Amber’s arm, and it wouldn’t budge. At all.

"Have you started?" Amber looked worried. "Are you just playing, or did you really start?"

"Yeah," Mike grunted. "I’ve started. Come on, do it."

"But you’re barely doing anything. Are you really trying as hard as you can, sweetie?"

Mike growled. It was one thing for a teenage girl to easily beat him at arm wrestling, and it was another thing for her to feel sorry for him about it. He pulled at her arm as hard as he could, and it barely trembled.

"Just do it," he said. "Get it over with."

She shrugged and slammed his hand down hard, on the table. It almost felt like she’d wrenched his arm out of its socket.

"Ow!" He felt himself starting to cry. "Not so hard!"

Amber watched him, a strange expression on her face.

"Did I hurt you, sweetie?"

Mike knew he should say no, but he couldn’t help himself.

"Yes! You were too rough! I’m too little to play rough!"

He cursed himself. His own brainwashing had taken him over for a moment, making him whine like a baby. The intense, slightly feverish look Amber gave him now made him afraid.

"Yeah," she said. "Poor, sweet baby-girl. Like a little doll. Gotta play gentle with you. You break so easy."

Mike suddenly wondered what the hell he’d been thinking to encourage Amber’s male side. Amber had been a killer.

"Uh, Amber? You’re a nice girl, remember? Nice, sweet, innocent girl? Wouldn’t hurt a fly?"

Amber blinked, seeming to regain control of herself.

"God," she said, "this is so confusing. One minute I wanna hold you down and fuck you, the next I wanna braid your hair and have a pillow fight. I don’t know anymore if I’m a man or a girl, or what the hell. I just wanna be... something. I’m sick of ping-ponging back and forth."

Mike considered his words carefully.

"Well... Maybe some of the retraining is good for you. Try to hold on to the good parts of being a man. You can be a man, without being a killer."

Amber looked over at him and sighed.

"I’m tired of thinking about all this stuff. I just wanna make out. Please, can we make out?"

"Amber, no."

"But you’re so hot. You’re like this perfect little Japanese schoolgirl, but you act like a mean little man."

Mike bristled.

"Actually, I’m Korean."

He couldn’t believe he’d said that. He didn’t have long to think about it before Amber put her hand on his knee. He brushed her away.

"Amber, stop."

"I can’t. You’re just so fucking sexy."

"Careful," he said hastily, peeling her hand off of his thigh. "Remember, nice girls don’t talk like that?"

"Oh, fuck that nice girl stuff. I walk around all day trying to be good, but I’m surrounded by beautiful girls and I’m going crazy for some pussy. I’ve asked girls here to fuck me, but they only want boys. In the old days I could have just raped somebody, but now I have to ask, and it sucks."

Amber was moving closer, almost kissing Mike.

"Please," she said. "I’m not raping you. I’m asking, like a good girl. See how nice I am? I’m a good girl. Please, fuck me."

She was pushing him down on the bed now. Using every bit of strength he had, Mike managed to push her off. She looked at him longingly.

"Please? I need it bad, Mickie."

"NO."

Mike stopped, realizing something.

"Mickie?"

"Yeah. I wanna call you Mickie. Isn’t that cute?"

"Fine, whatever. But we’re not gonna fuck."

"Are you sure you don’t even wanna get naked and snuggle? I’m a good snuggler. I have really amazing tits."

"NO! Seriously, just leave me alone, OK?"

Mike rolled over on the bed, his back to her. They were silent for a long time.

"I don’t wanna talk anymore," Mike finally said. "It’s getting late, and I’m just gonna go to sleep."

Amber sighed.

"OK. But you really shouldn’t wear your uniform to bed. Your skirt will get all wrinkled, and then you’ll just have to iron the pleats later. You should change into your jammies."

Mike rolled back over to face her.

"Jammies?"

"Yeah. They’re in the locker, over there."

Mike got up and went to a locker with a card on it that said MICHELLE. He opened it up. There were several matching schoolgirl uniforms, two pairs of shiny black shoes, and various lacy and silky underthings. Towards the back, there was a semi-sheer nightie and some pink pajamas with little, white ponies on them.

Amber got up and looked over her shoulder.

"You’re so lucky," she said. "You got ponies. I got kittens. I like the kittens, but I wish I got ponies."

"You can have the fucking ponies. I don’t wanna wear this crap."

"Well, I’d swap jammies with you, but you’re too small."

Mike put the pajamas back in the locker and felt himself misting up again.

"I can’t do this," he said. "I can’t. I gotta get out of this place."

"Well, you can forget about escaping. Nobody ever escapes, believe me. You’ll get through this, honey. You’ll only have to be here a few weeks, and then you can move in with your foster parents."

Mike did a double take.

"Wait, what? Foster parents? Nobody said anything about foster parents. They said when I was done with school, I’d be totally free."

"Well, sure, you are free to leave when you graduate. But most girls end up with foster parents, by choice. I mean, we’re just teenagers. We need somebody to take care of us. You’ll see, by the time you leave, you’ll want a mommy and a daddy to take care of you, too."

Mike thought about it for a moment. He’d never gotten along with his parents. They had always been so proud of Jenny, and so ashamed of him. Maybe it would be nice to have a new mommy and daddy to take care of him and teach him how to have a positive impact on his community. Instead of being the big brother who always got in trouble, he’d get to start all over as a good little girl, and make his new family proud.

He caught himself. That voice was inside his head again, making him think those thoughts. He suddenly understood what Amber was fighting against - it was all too easy to imagine himself becoming that simple, desperate-to-please girl, and never coming back. He was struggling not to hyperventilate. It was all just too much.

"I can’t take this crazy place! God, I can’t..."

"Shh. It’s OK, Mickie."

Amber came up from behind, wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head gently. Mike wanted to push her away, but it felt really good to be held. Amber was so big and soft and warm, it was very reassuring. She smelled so good. And she wasn’t kidding, her tits were amazing.

"Amber," Mike said warily, "Listen, I’m really not..."

"Relax. I’m just trying to help you feel better. It’s OK, baby."

Mike couldn’t help snuggling up against Amber a little. He was just too sad and afraid, he needed to be held. Amber stroked his hair, and he sighed. He looked up at her. She had the most gentle, loving look in her eyes. He could trust her. She was a good girl.

"Amber, please don’t..."

And then she was kissing him, her tongue slipping between his lips. It felt so wonderful that a few moments passed before he realized what was happening.

"Amber, wait..."

Her hand was on his chest, squeezing his sensitive new breasts through his shirt and his bra, sending weird little jolts of pleasure down between his thighs. Being felt up was a lot more exciting than it should’ve been. Then her hand was under his skirt, her fingers rubbing against his panties, through the fabric and between his lips, deep down.

His knees were giving out. It was too good. He felt himself being steered towards the bed, and then he was on his back and Amber was tenderly spreading his legs. She got between his thighs, peeling his skirt back and moving her face towards his panties.

Suddenly, Mike had a flash of sanity. They weren’t teenage girls. They weren’t lesbians. They were both guys, with girl bodies and crazy, mixed-up brains. No matter how good this felt, it couldn’t happen. They had to control themselves.

"Amber. Stop. Please, don’t do it."

He wished he could sound more like he meant it.

Now Amber was nibbling on his smooth, hairless thighs, and running her tongue across his panties and burying her nose in the fabric, inhaling him. He whimpered. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be real. But then he was raising up his bottom so Amber could slide the panties down over his knees, and with a jerking motion she had unzipped his skirt and pulled it off as well.

He closed his eyes and felt something thick and wet and ticklish between his thighs. Amber’s tongue. Inside.

She was eating him. Her tongue was between his pussy lips, entering his body. He was being eaten out, like a girl. He wanted to be disgusted, but instead he was moaning and bucking his hips, grabbing the back of Amber’s head and pushing her face deeper. Inside. He needed her, inside.

He looked down at her as she feasted on him. His pussy was still sore, from that machine they called Mr. Roboto. But he wished Amber wasn’t so gentle. He wished she would be rough with his pussy, really biting it and jamming her fingers in there, so it would sting. He wished Amber had a dildo. Or a strap-on. Or a cock. He wanted something big and hard in there, pumping in and out.

He had a mental flash of a nude, muscular man with a really big, hard cock. He pictured the man on top of him, holding him down, sliding his cock between the lips of Mike’s sopping wet pussy, all the way in, as far as it could go. Mike tried to force the thought from his mind, but it wouldn’t leave.

Now he could hear the woman’s voice whispering in his ear, like he was still wearing the headphones. What was she saying? It was something about how he wanted a cock inside of him. And she was right. He wanted a man. Girls wanted men. God, why wasn’t a man fucking him, right now? He wasn’t supposed to be here, getting eaten out by a girl. He needed a man to fuck him right.

He shivered, and felt an orgasm building. He was not fantasizing about men, while Amber ate him. He was not thinking about really hot guys, with big biceps and wide shoulders and long, fat cocks swinging between their legs.

He raised his hips so Amber could mash her face deeper into his pussy, and as he came, he thought about a man fucking him.

After he’d finally finished coming, he laid there with his thighs spread as Amber lavished his legs and belly with little kisses. She tenderly stroked the fur of his pussy, like she was petting a cat. Mike felt sleepy and stupid and very, very ashamed. What the hell had just happened? What was he becoming?

Amber grinned up at him.

"It’s late," she said. "Go to sleep, babyface. Time for little girls to go beddie-bye."

He was struggling to keep his eyes open. He would let himself sleep now, and when he woke up, everything would be different. He would be a man again, back on death row, and this insane nightmare would be over.

The next time he opened his eyes, he could hear the sounds of girls rushing by in the hall. There was a warm blanket pulled up to his chin. He was naked beneath it. He looked around. Amber was at the mirror, running a brush through her hair. She turned and grinned at him.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

He pulled the blanket down around his chest and tucked it under his armpits so he could sit up without showing his breasts.

"I’m naked."

"Yeah. You are. I didn’t want your uniform to get wrinkled."

He felt under the blanket. He was very naked indeed.

"You stripped me... and I slept through it?"

"Yeah. I guess you still had a lot of drugs in your system. You were kind of passed out."

"Why didn’t you put pajamas on me?"

Amber grinned.

"I didn’t want to. You’re so pretty when you sleep, like a little angel. Don’t worry, though. I was good, and I didn’t play with your pussy while you were unconscious."

Mike looked at her. Amber was a very strange person.

The girls were getting louder outside.

"What’s happening?"

"It’s only twenty minutes or so until class." She handed Mike a plate with a danish. "Here, I got you some breakfast."

"Oh. Thanks."

He took a few bites, and then looked over to see that Amber was watching him with a goofy, lusty smile. He frowned and turned away slightly, finishing the danish in a hurry.

He moved to get up, and he was about to let the blanket slip off his body when he saw that Amber was still watching him intently.

"Do you mind?"

She snickered.

"Shy, huh? You know, at this point I’m probably a lot more familiar with your naked body than you are."

That didn’t help him feel any better.

"Please, just look the other way, huh?"

"Suit yourself."

She turned away. He got up and went to the locker to get his uniform. As he was about to put on his bra, he gave his armpit a quick sniff. He smelled a little sweaty, but it was a weird, sweet scent. Girl sweat.

"Where do I go to shower?"

"We all shower together, in one big room. I’ll be glad to help you scrub those hard to reach spots."

He closed his eyes, praying she was kidding.

"We shower together?"

"No, not really." She laughed. "There’s a shower, in the bathroom, there."

Mike grabbed his uniform and hurried into the bathroom, realizing as he did that he really had to pee.

He lifted the toilet seat and reflexively reached for his penis to aim. When he didn’t find it, he felt a moment of pure despair. He would never pee standing up again. He would never have another erection. He would never fuck a girl again, the way a man fucked a girl.

He tried to push it all out of his mind, to focus on getting through what was coming next: his first pee as a girl.

He sat down and strained, trying to start the flow of pee, and nothing happened. Then he relaxed, and the stream seemed to start by itself. He pushed, and it stopped. He relaxed, and it started again.

What the hell? In order to pee, he had to stop trying to pee? It was insane. How could girls live like that? When they were standing in line for the ladies’ room, were they really bearing down the whole time, to keep themselves from peeing? That couldn’t be how it worked. What if they got distracted? What stopped them from wetting their pants?

Somebody should’ve given him an owner’s manual for his girl parts. Was this kind of stuff in those forms he’d signed, too?

He hopped in the shower, planning to wash off as quickly as he could, touching his new body as little possible. He started to soap up, grimacing as he worked the soap into his smooth, yellow skin. His body was just... wrong. It wasn’t him. Breasts, a pussy, a skinny waist, girl hips and a fat little butt. His nipples were annoyingly sensitive, too. Every time he scrubbed them, it sent a little jolt through his whole body.

He started to feel that funny tickle, down in his tummy. It did feel kind of good when he touched his nipples. It made him wonder. What would it feel like, if a boy touched your breasts? Like, if you had a really cute boyfriend, what would it be like if he played with your boobs while he french kissed you, and maybe he had one hand way down in your panties, and...

Mike pulled his finger out of his pussy. He’d been scrubbing it, and the scrubbing had turned into something else. He was suddenly so horny he felt a little dizzy. He had to stop thinking about guys. He was not queer. He only liked girls!

He shut off the shower, towelled off in a hurry, then went to look at himself in the steamy haze of the mirror. Yes, he was a chink... but he was pretty. There was a naked, pretty girl right here, looking back at him in the mirror, and he could make her do anything he wanted. He was going to play with this pretty girl in the mirror, and stop thinking about men.

He struck a sexy pose, one arm behind his head, glamour girl style, trying to turn himself on with the image of the nude girl in the mirror. He licked his lips, picturing this girl sucking his cock. He desperately tried to get aroused as he watched her, but it just felt silly. This girl was really cute, but... she was him. It didn’t feel right, it was like trying to tickle yourself.

He strained to see the girl in the mirror as another person. She was a hot girl, not him, and she was his plaything. He pictured her, going down on him, slurping, running her tongue in circles around his prick. The girl in the mirror held her thumb up to her mouth and licked it, slowly and sensuously, like a cock. That was good. She looked like she was really enjoying herself.

He started to toy with his clit as the girl in the mirror sucked her thumb, just like it was a big, hard cock. A really long, thick prick, swollen and throbbing. Filling her whole mouth, oozing a stream of gooey, salty, tasty come down her throat. So tasty...

Damn it. He was thinking about cocks again. Furious, he cupped his breasts, pushed them together and hissed at the mirror.

"Come on... There are tits, right here! You know you want them! So... WANT them!"

He felt ridiculous. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Until he could get control of his desires, he’d just have to stop thinking about sex at all. Wanting guys was just too disgusting, and not wanting girls was too weird and depressing. The brainwashing had been way too successful. It was going to be hard to shake this. He almost felt like he’d always wanted boys, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world, and resisting it was like trying to hold his breath.

He opened his eyes again. The little chink girl was looking back at him. He opened his eyes as wide as he could, trying to look less like a chink. He pulled at his eyebrows, lifting them up, trying to open his eyes wider. He pinched his chubby cheeks, still damp from the shower. He felt his throat. No adam’s apple. How could this be his flesh? How could he be this girl?

He stared at himself. It was funny, in a way, it almost felt like this had always been his face. Like, being a white guy had been a dream or something. He smiled at his reflection and batted his eyes. He looked so young and innocent. And he felt young and innocent, too.

He knew the brainwashing was working on him again, but he didn’t want to let this feeling go, not yet. He was young and innocent. And he was Asian. It felt good, to be this new person.

He’d always hated Asians, but suddenly it was kind of hard to understand why. What was it about them that always made him so mad? Why had he always been so mad about everything? He didn’t want to be mad anymore. He wanted to be a good girl.

"Hello," he said to the mirror. "My name is Michelle."

It was so weird. This girl in the mirror was saying the things he made her say. She was him. He was her.

"My name is Michelle. I’m Asian. We don’t call people like me oriental, anymore. I’m not a chink. I’m Asian."

His skin wasn’t yellow, not really. Actually, it wasn’t yellow at all. Lemons were yellow. He was just... skin color. Kind of a pretty gold, like when you had a slight suntan. There were plenty of white people this color. How had he ever thought that Asian people were yellow? That was so stupid.

He smiled, looking at his teeth. He had nice teeth, they weren’t buck at all. Actually, they were better than the teeth he’d had when he was white. They looked really clean, and his gums were pink and healthy. He got a brush off the counter and ran it through his wet hair. His hair was so thick! He combed it back and smiled at himself again. He’d always hated his smile, but this new face looked good smiling.

He was cute. Even without makeup, he was really cute. He had never thought of himself as attractive, before. It was fun to be cute.

He wondered what he’d look like, with makeup. He pursed his lips. It might be fun to try some lipstick. Like, a pale, pink, glossy lipstick. That would be so cute. He wished he had some, right now. He wondered if Amber would let him borrow some makeup.

He caught himself, just in time. No makeup! Makeup was for girls!

He had to get away from this girl in the mirror. The more he looked at her, the more she seemed to be talking him into girlhood.

He gave himself one last towelling off and threw on his uniform, leaving the girl in the mirror behind.

He hurried out to their dorm room, where Amber was waiting on her bed with her legs folded. She grinned when she saw him.

"Hey, sugar. Ready for your first day of class?"

"Yeah. Let’s get this over with."

They left the room, and started down the hall. They didn’t get far before Mike realized he was holding Amber’s hand again.

Mike hadn’t been inside a classroom for almost 20 years. He looked around at the rows of little desks, all filled with schoolgirls in their uniforms, and the strangeness of it was overwhelming. He was a kid again. He was a girl. He was one of them.

A bell rang, and the doctor from yesterday hurried into the room. She wasn’t wearing a lab coat this time, but instead had on a silvery blouse, a short, black skirt, stockings and shiny pumps. She was beautiful, but Mike found himself admiring her makeup, and the way she had her hair up. He was looking at her the way a young girl would look at her, envying her curves and sense of style. He strained to feel something more, to desire her like a man desires a woman. She was a very desirable woman. Why couldn’t he desire her?

Something else felt different: the doctor seemed years older than she had yesterday. Nothing about her had actually changed, but in his eyes she was a grown-up, and grown-ups were suddenly a different species. Yesterday he had thought that she was maybe 30 or so, but now she looked like she could be 25 or 40. He remembered when he was a kid, the way that anybody over 20 seemed old. Somehow, in just one day, that feeling had come back to him.

"Good morning, ladies," she said. "Today we have a new student in class. Say hello to Michelle."

All eyes were on him. They all spoke as one.

"Hello, Michelle."

He shrank down in his seat.

"Michelle," the doctor said. "I am Doctor Ramirez, the head of the program here at the Doves’ Nest. I will be your teacher today."

"Yeah? You got a lot of jobs around here, huh?"

She sneered slightly.

"Michelle, little girls do not speak in class unless they are asked a question, Michelle."

It was as if his mouth had been sealed shut. He couldn’t open it at all, and he had to breathe through his nose.

"In answer to your question, yes, I do have many jobs, here. But we won’t have any other new girls joining us for a few weeks, so I’ll be free to teach you. Now, sit up straight, and behave."

Terrified, he sat up as straight as he could. It was like she had magic powers. All she had to do was say his name twice, and he was powerless to resist her.

"Now, then. We’ve been learning about the female body. Tina, why don’t you stand up and refresh us on what we learned yesterday."

Little Tina stood up and began to hesitantly explain about the menthtwuaythun thycle, the utewuth and the fawwopian tubeth. Mike would’ve laughed, if he could’ve opened his mouth.

"Very good, Tina."

Ramirez got up and wrote on the board:

WOMANHOOD

"Today, you’re going to learn some more specific information about your menstrual cycle, and how to handle your periods. We’ve tried to sync up your cycles, so you should all be having your periods in about two weeks. Well, except for our under-twelves, of course. Now, we want you young ladies to be prepared. It’s up to you whether you use tampons or pads, but you should know the advantages and disadvantages of both..."

Mike couldn’t believe this. A girl’s sex-ed class. There was no denying that the information about their new bodies would be useful, but he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He remembered his sex-ed classes from decades ago, when they would send all the girls to one room and all the boys to another. He had wondered what happened in the girls’ class. Well, now he was going to find out.

It turned out to be a lot less interesting than he would’ve hoped. Ramirez droned on about eggs and sperm and periods for what seemed like hours. At one point she turned to write something on the board, and Mike felt a tap on his elbow. He turned, and Amber was passing him a note. He opened it, and saw a message written with large, girly letters:

OMG MICKIE, I AM SO HORNY FOR YOU RIGHT NOW! AT LUNCHTIME, CAN WE GO HAVE MORE LEZZIE SEX? LAST NIGHT WAS SOOOO GOOD!!

At the bottom of the page she had drawn two love hearts that had a little arrow through them.

Mike gave her a discouraging look and stuffed the note in the pocket of his schoolgirl shirt as quickly as he could. The last thing he needed was Ramirez noticing, then putting the magic whammy on him and making him read the damn note aloud to the whole class.

When they had their lunch break, Amber asked again about sneaking off for some more lezzie sex. Mike said he was too hungry to skip lunch, so they went to the cafeteria. This time, Amber found them a private table.

He noticed a pair of beautiful, identical blondes sitting together. Amber saw him looking.

"That’s Danielle and Lisa," she said. "They got turned into sisters."

Mike put down his fork.

"Turned into sisters?"

"Yeah. When they were guys, they HATED each other. They were in the same prison where I was, and they would get in these big fights, all the time. They tried to kill each other, a few times. Then they came here, and now they’re sisters. They hated being sisters at first, but now they get along so good. I see them in the halls together all the time, holding hands. They’re good girls, now."

Mike looked over at them. One of them was telling some sort of a story, and the other was giggling. Sisters. He turned back to Amber.

"How are they twins? Did two twin sisters donate their DNA, to make them like that?"

"No, it was just one girl. Danielle and Mona are the same girl, twice. Doctor Ramirez could’ve made us all the same girl, if she wanted to. She picks a girl for each of us, and makes us into somebody she thinks it would be good for us to be. That’s why I’m the kind of girl I used to kill. That’s why Tina is the kind of kid she used to molest."

Of course. Ramirez had said that being an Asian girl would be a good "learning experience" for a man like Mike. It was no accident that he had become an Asian. She had picked this body, just for him.

He sighed and polished off the last bite of his meatloaf. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Amber giving him another one of her looks. She was just about the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, but every time she looked at him like that, he found himself wishing she was a boy.

"So," Amber said, "how are you liking class, honey?"

"It’s so boring. It’s driving me crazy."

Amber leaned across the table and whispered.

"I know what you mean. Normally I really like class, but today I can hardly concentrate. I keep thinking about you, Mickie."

Mike pushed his tray aside and leaned back in his chair.

"Uh, listen, Amber... that’s sweet, but I’m really not..."

Suddenly he felt something between his knees, gently prying them apart. He glanced across the length of the table, and realized that Amber must have slipped off her shoes and now she was stretching her legs out to play footsie with him.

"Amber, come on..."

"Shh. Nobody can see under the tablecloth."

Her foot was slowly sliding up his thigh. He couldn’t stop himself, he spread his legs, slid his chair forward slightly and slouched down so she could reach him better. He felt a gentle, clumsy pressure against his panties; she was rubbing her toes against his vulva, through the fabric.

He had to stop this. What if they were caught?

He reached under the tablecloth, under his skirt, pushed his panties to one side and guided Amber’s big toe inside his pussy. Yes. It was almost like a cock. Big and thick, but too short. He closed his eyes, imagining that it was the tip of a really cute boy’s cock.

He had never been so aroused in his life, but he couldn’t make a sound. He dug his fingers into the tablecloth and the room seemed to fade away around him. He heard Amber giggling, as if from far away.

"Don’t look like you’re so into it," she said quietly. "You’ll give us away."

He didn’t care. He was about to come. Something big and thick was inside of him, and it wasn’t made of rubber. It was real. If some stupid girl’s toe felt like this, what would a cock do to him?

He had to fuck a man. He had to know what it was like. He shivered all over, and whimpered. So close...

And then he felt the toe pulling away. He gasped and opened his eyes.

"Why did you stop? Don’t stop, Amber. Please."

Amber grinned, looking pleased with herself.

"I was making you feel too good. You were gonna start screaming, just like last night. I could tell."

Mike’s heart was racing, he couldn’t think straight. She was right. He had been way too close to coming. Something had been inside of him, and now it wasn’t. Something that almost felt like a real cock.

He glanced around the cafeteria. Nothing but girls. Girls, everywhere. Why weren’t there any cute boys?

Then he noticed Amber gazing at him sweetly.

"You like me," she said. "Don’t you, Mickie?"

He felt his sanity returning. What the heck was Amber talking about?

"Huh? Yeah, sure. I like you, Amber."

"I like you too, Mickie. I mean, I really, really like you. You’re so pretty, and so much fun."

Amber was already developing a crush. It was obvious. Mike smiled uncomfortably, wondering how the hell he was going to handle this. Not only was Amber a former serial killer, but she was also a girl, and all of a sudden it seemed like the only way he could enjoy being touched by a girl was if he closed his eyes and pretended she was a cute boy. And on top of that, Amber was his dorm mate! If he broke her heart, there was not telling what this insane bimbo would do to him.

Fortunately at that moment he was literally saved by the bell, and it was time to head back to class.

It was almost a relief to settle back into his desk, ready for Ramirez to go on telling them more than they could ever want to know about their pussies.

But after an hour or so, Mike was getting mad. It wasn’t just the endless talk about periods that made him angry, it was the insulting, patronizing tone, the way Ramirez just seemed to assume that all any of them wanted out of life was to get married and have babies, and the way that none of the girls questioned it. They were all scribbling notes and listening eagerly.

Late in the day, he was so fed up that he couldn’t hide it anymore. He slouched down in his desk and sighed. Ramirez looked over at him sharply.

"Is there something you’d like to say, Michelle?"

"No. I’m fine."

"Really? Something tells me you have an opinion you’d like to share with the class."

"No. Really."

"Michelle, tell us all what you think of the class, Michelle."

He was going to kill her. He would climb up on a chair, so he was tall enough, and he would strangle her.

"I hate it," he said. "I hate it, and I hate you."

She grinned.

"Really?"

He sighed, relieved. He was actually going to say the truth.

"Yes. God, you are one sick bitch. You’re a big, messed-up, man-hating dyke."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You like to turn men into girls so you can make us all sit around while you tell us about pussies all day. You want to cut off our balls, and turn us all into little housewives. I’m surprised you’re not teaching us all how to bake cookies for our husbands!"

She leaned up against her desk and folded her arms.

"Home Economics is tomorrow. You WILL learn how to make cookies, cakes, all sorts of things."

A murmur of excitement swept through the class. Mike slammed his little fist down on the desk.

"Shut up, all of you! God, this is the most twisted fucking thing I ever heard of!"

He sneered at Ramirez.

"You’re not fit to be a doctor. You’re the real criminal, here. All of us, we did bad things. But you’ve taken dozens of men and mutilated us, and fucked with our brains, brainwashed us. You should be in a nuthouse someplace, you sick cunt."

"That will be all."

"Fuck you, you fucking..."

"Michelle, be quiet, Michelle."

His mouth sealed shut again. He grunted in frustration.

"Michelle, come to the front of the room, Michelle."

He felt himself lurching to his feet, like a string puppet.

"Come here."

He walked up beside her desk. She smiled down at him. God, she was huge. He would never get used to being such a shrimp.

"Elbows on the desk, young lady."

Oh, shit. What was happening, here?

Breathing heavily, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, so his bottom was sticking out. She pressed her hand on the small of his back, positioning him so his bottom stuck out more.

No. Not this.

Ramirez stepped behind him, and he felt his skirt being flipped up, so his panties were exposed. He started to tremble all over. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen.

"Class, what happens when little girls are bad?"

They all spoke as one.

"We’re punished, Doctor Ramirez."

"Who can tell us what bad things Michelle did?"

There was a pause. A girl Mike didn’t know raised her hand.

"Angie," Ramirez said. "Go ahead."

"She said bad words. She called you bad names, and she said that our retraining here at the Doves’ Nest is sick."

"That’s right. You’re a good little girl, Angie. But you didn’t say the very worst thing she did. Who can tell me the very worst thing that Michelle did?"

The class was silent.

"Michelle LIED. She told a lie. She said that all of you are men who have been mutilated, and brainwashed. And that’s not true, is it?"

The class spoke as one.

"No, Doctor Ramirez."

"What are you?"

"We’re good little girls, Doctor Ramirez."

"That’s right. Maybe you all used to be bad men, but now you’re all my good little girls. You’re young ladies with healthy bodies and healthy minds. All of you, except for Michelle. She’s a bad little girl, and she needs to learn her lesson."

Mike gasped as he felt his panties being hiked down, between his knees. The whole class could now see his bare ass. He clenched his bottom, bracing himself for what was about to happen.

"You can speak, Michelle," Ramirez said. "You have to speak, so you can count your twenty-five spankings."

Mike clamped his eyes shut. He was crying before the first slap hit him. When it hit, it made him see stars in the darkness.

"One!"

There was a long pause. Was another one coming?

It hit, harder than the first.

"Two!"

Another. Was each one harder, or was he just getting more sore?

"Three!"

There were more. And more.

By the time she had spanked him 20 times, his ass was throbbing, like he could feel his heart beating in it. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was whimpering so much he could hardly keep count anymore.

"Twenny... Twe... Twenny... Two?"

"Twenty-one, dear. Keep good count, or I could lose track and have to start over."

He was blubbering now, lost in his second childhood, utterly reduced to the level of a bawling little girl. It hurt so much, and it was so humiliating. His bottom was blazing hot, it was all he could think of. And then she spanked him again. He shrieked. It was too hard to count, anymore.

"Twenny two! Please, I’ll be good!"

"Shh."

She spanked him again, harder than ever. He howled with pain.

"Please, stop! I’ll be good! I’ll be a good girl! Please!"

"Count it off, Michelle."

"I dunno! Twenny-three..? Please! I’ll be so good! Please!"

"Say you’ll be a good little girl."

"I will! I’ll be the best little girl! Please!"

"I know you will."

She spanked him again, twice. It felt like the skin of his ass cheek was going to burst like a ripe fruit. He was hysterically weeping now.

"I said I’d be good! Please!"

"Count it off."

"Please! It hurts!"

"I know. Count it off."

"Twen... twenny-four? I dunno!"

"No, sweetie. It was twenty-five."

She hiked his panties back up over his burning ass cheeks, flipped his skirt down and stood him up. He was wailing like a baby now, unable to control himself. He had seen and done a lot of bad things, but nothing had ever shaken him up like this. His adulthood as a male seemed a distant memory. Had he ever really been a boy? Hadn’t he always been Michelle?

"Now, Michelle, I want you to be a good girl, and answer me honestly."

He gulped, too upset to think straight. He wanted to be a good girl, that was all he knew.

"OK, Doctor Ramirez."

"I know how much that hurt you. But did you enjoy it, too?"

He sniffled, struggling to understand. The question was too confusing, he was too upset.

"Be honest, Michelle. Did part of you like it?"

He was shaking all over. He didn’t want to answer. Everyone had been watching him, and he had felt so little and helpless. As horrible as it had been, it had also been kind of exciting. He gulped.

"I dunno."

"I don’t want to have to make you be honest, Michelle. Tell the class. Be honest, like a good little girl."

He bowed his head.

"I guess... I kind of liked it. It really hurt, but it was good, too."

She gave him a little kiss on the forehead.

"See, class? Deep down, even the most naughty little girl knows that she deserves to be punished. She enjoys being disciplined. She wants to grow up into a good wife and mommy, so she will have a positive impact on her community."

She got down low to speak to him.

"It’s not long until the end of class. You can go back to your room, and Amber can go along to take care of you."

He turned to go, but she grabbed his hand, pulled him close and whispered in his ear.

"There’s one little thing you should know, Mike. All that stuff you said, the stuff I spanked you for? You weren’t completely wrong. I do love humiliating big, bad men like you, and turning you into helpless little girls. I’d do this for free."

He blinked at her, wondering if he could’ve possibly heard her right. Then she winked and gave him a light slap on the bottom. He scrambled away, terrified she was going to start spanking him again, or worse.

Amber was waiting for him out in the hall. She took his hand and led him, still weeping, back to their room. As soon as they got there, she reached under his skirt and started to pull down his panties. He sobbed wretchedly.

"No! Please, Amber! Leave me alone!"

"Shh. I’m not gonna do anything naughty. I’m gonna put on the lotion. We all do it, after we get spanked. It helps it feel better."

His bottom was too sore for him to refuse. She flopped him face down on the bed, flipped up his skirt and pulled down his panties, and he felt something wonderfully cool and soothing being spread across his ass. He sighed, not even caring when he felt Amber’s hands parting his cheeks to rub the lotion into the places that hadn’t been spanked. It all felt so good. She wasn’t going to hurt him. She wanted to help.

"My poor Mickie. Your little bottom is so red, it looks like it really hurts."

Mike heard her sniffle. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw her wipe away a tear on the back of her wrist. Suddenly she looked like such a kid, and he tried to summon some of his own maturity to calm her down.

"It’s OK, Amber. I’m OK."

"But I never saw her punish somebody so bad! What she did, it was way too mean. Spanking you 25 times, while everybody looked, and making you count! Oh, my poor, poor little Mickie!"

Mike broke down and sobbed into the pillow. It felt so good for somebody to show him kindness. He clumsily pulled his panties and skirt back into place and rolled over and took Amber’s hand, not caring about the lotion on her fingers.

"Thank you, Amber," he said.

"What for? I don’t mind puttin’ on the lotion. I wanna help."

"I know. Thank you."

"I like you so much, Mickie. I mean, I don’t just wanna have lezzie sex with you. I wanna be your best friend, too."

He looked into her twinkling eyes. She seemed to get a little more dumb and little-girlish, every hour. Did she sense the last of her manhood, slipping away? She was a tragic, horrifying creature. But at the same time, she was so lovely, and there was something so genuine and sweet in her eyes. He struggled to put his feelings into words he knew she’d understand.

"You’re... a good girl, Amber."

She beamed.

"I am? I wanna be good! Am I good?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "You’re good."

"That’s so sweet, thank you! And I think you’re good, too. I mean, sure, you’re still kind of naughty, sometimes. Like you still say the F-word, and stuff like that. But you’re getting better, I can tell. Soon, you’ll be a good girl, just like the rest of us!"

"Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of."

"Huh?"

Amber blinked. She really did seem to be rapidly losing what little smarts she had. Was the man she had been even in there, anymore?

"Nothing," Mike said. "Don’t worry about it."

Amber glanced up at the wall clock. It was almost 5. She bit her lip.

"Mickie? I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I have some more bad news for you."

"Yeah? What else can go wrong?"

"Well, normally we all gotta have our sessions with Mr. Roboto or our studs at 5 PM. They last for two hours, before dinner. But when you’ve been spanked that day, they don’t let you have a session. It’s part of your punishment."

Mike chuckled bitterly. Amber looked confused.

"What’s funny, Mickie? I don’t get the joke."

"No, it’s nothing. Don’t worry, I’ll be OK without my session."

Mike actually did feel a real pang of loss. This would’ve been the first session that he was totally awake for. He was going to miss out on two full hours of getting his pussy pumped, and getting to suck on that dildo.

Something occurred to him. He sat up on the bed.

"Wait... You all have these sessions, at once?"

"Uh-huh. There’s a Mr. Roboto room for every girl, and a few studs are always around for us more mature girls who are ready for real boyfriends."

"When you have these sessions, the doctors are in there, with you?"

"Sure. They monitor what we feel, and record it and stuff. For study."

"What about the guards?"

"Guards? We don’t need any guards, here."

Mike’s jaw dropped.

"You don’t?"

"No. Why would we? We’re good girls."

She bent forward and kissed Mike on the nose, and leaned back to give him a flirty, sidelong look.

"Don’t tell anybody," Amber said, "but I think I like you even better than Ray. Is that weird?"

Mike sat up stiffly.

"You said you were in love with Ray."

"I am. But I think I’m more in love with you. I wanna be lezzie girlfriends. Will you be my lezzie girlfriend, Mickie? I love you so much."

Mike looked at her warily.

"I just met you last night, Amber."

"I know. But it was love at first sight, like a fairy tale. I love Ray for my boyfriend right now, but I think maybe I’m always gonna love you. I look at you, and I feel so happy. And when I do sexy stuff with you, like when I diddled you with my toe, back in the cafeteria? Wow, that is so neat! You’re so cute, and fun, and I can’t help it, I love you. I like boys, but I think I’ve gone really lezzie for you. So, will you be my lezzie girlfriend? Please?"

Mike just sighed.

"Sure. Why not. We’re lezzie girlfriends, Amber."

"Yay! Lezzie girlfriends!"

She squealed, threw her arms around him and gave him a big kiss. Then she giggled like a toddler.

"I know you don’t like it here, Mickie, but you’ll see, it’s really cool. We get to be pretty, and they’re teaching us to be good, and now we get to be lezzie girlfriends! I mean, the spankings are bad, and sometimes the classes can be kinda dull. But otherwise, it’s really, really cool."

He forced a grin and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Go on," he said. "Don’t keep Ray waiting."

"OK. But when I get back, can we do some more sexy stuff? Like, can I eat you some more? I really loved eating you last night. You taste so good, and you make the cutest little noises."

"That’s OK. I’m pretty tired."

"Are you sure? I wouldn’t hurt your sore bottom, I promise. I’d go real gentle with everything down there."

Mike was trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.

"Well, maybe we’ll talk about it when you get back."

"OK. But I’ll try not to be gone too long. I mean, maybe I won’t have to be gone the whole two hours. I don’t want you to feel lonesome."

"It’s fine. Enjoy yourself."

"Well, I will. I mean, Ray is always really good. But when he’s doing me tonight, I promise I’ll think about you, a lot."

Mike tried not to laugh.

"Thanks. That’s very touching. You better go."

Amber was silent for a long moment, and she looked at Mike very seriously. She reached over and played with his hair.

"Will you miss me, Mickie? For real?"

"Sure. Yeah."

"I don’t ever wanna see you sad, Mickie. I just want you to be happy, like the rest of us."

"I’ll be fine." Mike forced a smile. "Really."

"OK."

Amber got up.

"I’ll be back as soon as I can," she said. "I love you, Mickie."

"Yeah," Mike said. "I love you, too."

Then Amber was gone. Finally.

Mike sat on the bed for a few minutes, until the halls outside were totally quiet. Then he crept out into the empty hall and looked back and forth. When he listened closely, he could hear girls moaning far away, enjoying their sessions. But that was the only sound.

All of the girls were busy, all of the doctors were busy, all of the studs were busy, and there were no guards. It was now, or never. He had to get out of this place, before he was a grinning idiot, like Amber. He was already dangerously boy-crazy, but if he got out now maybe he could still undo the damage, somehow. Maybe a few months in the real world would get his mind working right again, and at least he could grow up to be a dyke.

He hesitated in the hall. If he was stayed and he was good, tomorrow they’d let him have a session with Mr. Roboto. Two full hours of pumping and sucking. His mouth watered, thinking about that dildo between his lips. He could hear the other girls right now, enjoying themselves. Some of them were even doing it with real, live boys. He envied them. If he stayed and he was good, how long would it be before he’d get to have a boyfriend?

That settled it. He had to get out. Now.

He made his way through the halls, moving as quickly and as quietly as he could. Finally he found one long, dark corridor with a door at the end that looked different from the others. It had a little window in it, and stepping closer, he could see a stairwell through the window.

He expected the door to be locked. But no. He hurried out to the stairs, and started down. His little Mary Jane shoes were too noisy, so he took them off and carried them in one hand as he padded down the stairs in his knee socks.

This was too easy. There had to be some kind of obstacle, some alarm or trap. They weren’t just going to let the girls run around the building by themselves.

But then he went down two floors, three, four. And he reached the bottom. There was a door, and he could hear the sounds of traffic outside. This door had to be locked. It didn’t look like the strongest door. As a man, he could have easily broken it down. But as a teenage girl, it would be a huge challenge, perhaps impossible.

He pushed the door, and it opened. He stepped outside, into the light. It had been less than 48 hours since he’d awoken in that crazy place, getting fucked by a machine, but it felt like months. Or years. It was bizarre to feel the wind on his new skin, and hear the sounds of everyday life all around.

He was in a parking lot. Cars passing in the distance. Birds chirping. The sun was just starting to set. He was out. He looked down at himself. He was a little Asian schoolgirl, wearing her stupid uniform and with a head full of bullshit about being a good girl who sucked cocks and never caused trouble. But he was out. Free.

He started towards the street, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Michelle, turn around, Michelle."

He slowly turned around. Ramirez was standing there. With Amber.

"Amber?" He stepped towards them, almost too stunned to speak. "Amber, what are you doing here?"

"I told Doctor Ramirez you were gonna try to escape."

Mike blinked back hot tears.

"How did you know?"

"Well, duh. I’m not an idiot, Mickie. It was obvious how you wanted me to leave, so you could make a run for it while everybody was having their sessions."

"But why?" Mike felt the tears on his face. "Why did you do it? You said you loved me, Amber. How could you turn me in? How could you do this to me?"

Amber’s pretty face was twisted with anger.

"I did it because I love you, dummy! You belong here, just like the rest of us! You were bad, and you have to stay here to learn how to be a good girl! Doctor Ramirez can be mean sometimes, but she’s doing this for our own good, so we can all have a positive impact on the community, and grow up to be happy mommies and wives!"

"We’re not supposed to be mommies and wives, Amber! We’re men!"

Amber wiped away her own tears.

"Stop pretending you’re still a man, Mickie. You’re a girl, like all of us here. You think you’re a man, but you’re really just a... bad girl. You’re a really bad girl. And when they’re done with you, you’ll be good, and then... you won’t lie to people and say you love them, when you don’t!"

She turned and ran back inside.

Ramirez stood there, her face grim. Mike spun toward the street, wondering if he could make a run for it. He heard Ramirez behind him.

"I could just make you come back inside, Michelle. Will I have to?"

He turned back to face her.

"Yes. Yes, you will."

She sighed.

"Michelle, come back inside, Michelle."

And so, he went back inside.

She took his hand and led him back up the stairs. It seemed like a much longer way than it had been, going down. When they came back to their floor, she led him towards a room that looked like the place where he’d woken up with the machine the girls called Mr. Roboto. But when they got inside, there was no machine. Just a dimly-lit room, with one cabinet, a phone and a large bed. He looked around.

"What’s happening?"

"Quiet, sweetie. I’m afraid your treatments haven’t been enough to cure you. In cases like yours, we have special, more extreme procedures. Michelle, take off your clothes, Michelle."

Suddenly his limbs sprang into motion, and he was unbuttoning his top and slipping off his skirt. Within 30 seconds, he was standing there naked, his clothes neatly folded and piled on top of the cabinet. He glanced over his shoulder, wishing that the door was closed. Ramirez seemed to read his mind.

"Don’t worry. Everybody else is busy. It’s just you and me, for now. Turn around."

He turned, and waited. After a moment, he felt a sharp pain, a pricking, in his left ass cheek. He whimpered.

"I know," she said. "But it gets into your system faster if I inject it there."

"What does? What did you do to me?"

"It’s another form of the drug that we used to make you very suggestible. This one is much more powerful. You should be feeling it any moment."

Before her sentence was through, the room began to spin. He lurched over to the bed.

"That’s right," she said. "Lie down, sweetie."

Somehow, the lack of malice in her voice was far more frightening then when she gloated over his humiliation. She actually sounded like she felt sorry for him.

She laid him flat on the bed, and then she was posing him, like a floppy rag doll. She spread his legs slightly, laid his arms at his sides. He knew he could move, but he just didn’t feel like it. It was fine for her to move his body for him. She was the doctor.

"Michelle," she said, "I want you to listen to me. You’re not a man."

"I’m not?"

"No. You are a girl. Your name is Michelle."

If the doctor said so, why not? Being a girl sounded nice.

"OK," Michelle said. "I’m a girl."

"That’s very good."

The doctor picked up the phone.

"Ray," she said. "Hurry to 314. I’m afraid we have one of the special cases."

She hung up.

"Don’t be scared," she said. "This is gonna feel really good."

It was hard for Michelle to form the words.

"Is Ray gonna have sex with me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Amber said he’s really cute. Is he cute?"

"He sure is. He’ll be a wonderful boyfriend for you, while you’re here."

"OK. I want a boyfriend. Does he like Asian girls?"

"Yes. He’s going to love you, sweetie. And you’re going to love him."

"That’s nice. I want a cute boyfriend, who loves me. I’m gonna get to have sex, with my boyfriend. And you promise he won’t mind that I’m Asian?"

"No, he won’t. He’ll really like it."

"He’ll like it?"

"Yes, there’s nothing wrong with it, sweetie. It’s good to be Asian. You have pretty eyes."

"It’s good. I like being Asian. I have pretty eyes."

"Yes, you do."

A figure appeared behind the doctor. A young, white man. He was so cute, the cutest boy that Michelle had ever seen. Was he going to be her boyfriend? Was he the man who liked Asian girls with pretty eyes?

The doctor just seemed to vanish. Everything went gray. And then the beautiful man was on top of Michelle. Was he inside her? Yes, he was inside. It felt really, really good. Actually, it was the best thing, ever. Michelle giggled.

"Hi. Are you Ray?"

"Yes, Michelle."

"Are you my boyfriend?"

"Yes, Michelle."

"Oh, good. I like how you feel inside of me, Ray. That’s, like, the best thing I ever felt. Can I suck your cock? I want to suck it."

"Maybe later."

He kissed her. Yes. A boy kiss. A little rough, just a hint of stubble. That was just right.

"Later?" Michelle struggled to form the words. "Because, I really wanna do it, now. Please?"

"No, Michelle. Right now, we need to talk."

"OK. Talk to me, while you fuck me. I like you fucking me. You’re a cute boy."

"I’m glad you like this, Michelle. Do you love me?"

"Sure. You’re my boyfriend. My beautiful, sweet boyfriend, with such a big, hard cock. Having sex with me. Um. Can you go faster?"

He went faster.

"Michelle, you remember all the things you heard in your headphones?"

"Yeah. I’m a good girl, and I like to have sex with boys, and I’m gonna have a positive impact on the community, and I’m gonna grow up and be a wife and mommy. And I like to suck cocks. Can I suck your cock, please?"

"Not right now."

"OK. And I like to submit. I like it when you tell me what to do. So, if you ask me to suck your cock, I’ll suck it. I could do it now, if you want."

"Michelle, you need to be quiet. You’re going to have an orgasm soon, and after you do, everything will be different. After you orgasm, you’re always going to be a good little girl, forever. Being a good little girl will make you so happy, happier than anything. Understand?"

"I guess. But I don’t like being a good little girl. I wanna be a man again. I wanna be me."

"But you’re not a man. You’re a good little girl, Michelle. Aren’t you?"

She looked up at him. A boy who felt that good inside of her couldn’t be a liar.

"I guess so. If you say so. Yeah."

"That’s right. After you have this orgasm, you’re going to always be a good little girl. Understand?"

"Uh-huh. I wanna be good. Can I suck your cock?"

"Come, right now."

Suddenly, Michelle felt an orgasm ripping through her. She wrapped her thighs around Ray and shrieked as he pounded her, it felt like she was exploding from the inside. She forgot everything, who she was and where she was, all she could do was feel what Ray was doing to her. She loved him, utterly.

Finally she fell back on the bed, crying for reasons she couldn’t understand. She was happy, but there was something else, too. It was like she’d lost something.

Everything went hazy, and then Ray wasn’t there anymore. Her pussy still felt wet and tingly, though. She giggled, remembering her wonderful boyfriend. Where had he gone? She missed him.

What had she forgotten? She thought hard. Did she used to be a man? Yes, that was it. She was really a man, and they had tricked her and turned her into this girl. That was a pretty mean thing to do. The people here were mean, turning men into girls who didn’t want to be girls.

But now that she was a girl, it seemed pretty silly to sit around being sad about it. She would just have to try and be a good girl.

Being a good little girl made her so happy. Happier than anything.

The weeks passed. Michelle and Amber learned all sorts of things about their new bodies. They learned how to cook and sew and do other things it was important to know. They learned a lot about how to be good girls, and how to be good mommies and wives.

They had pillow fights. They braided each other’s hair. They had their first period together. They slept in one bed every night, snuggling together, but they didn’t have lezzie sex because Michelle only liked boys, now. Sometimes Michelle would let Amber kiss her a little, but that was far as they went. Michelle would close her eyes, and pretend that Amber was a boy.

Ray was their boyfriend, and he took turns with them. It made Michelle jealous. She knew Ray wasn’t her forever boyfriend or anything, and he just had sex with her because it was his job. She didn’t even like Ray that much, he was really boring to talk to. But he was so cute and he had a huge cock and she really, really liked having sex with him, and whenever she was stuck having sex with Mr. Roboto while Amber was having sex with Ray, it just felt so lonesome. Her best friend and her boyfriend were having fun sex together, and she was stuck with some dumb machine.

They asked Ray if they could both have sex with him at once, but he said no. It was against the rules. It didn’t seem fair. Why couldn’t they have sex with him at the same time, so nobody would feel left out? They even asked Dr. Ramirez about it, but she said no, too. She said that good girls didn’t do things like that, and they didn’t even ask about it. That made them ashamed, and they never talked about it again, even when they were alone. They wanted to be good girls.

And then, far too soon, it was time for them to say goodbye.

Michelle was going to leave first. As the hour drew near, they snuggled together on their bed, crying.

"I don’t wanna go," Michelle said. "I love you, Amber!"

"I love you too, Mickie. But we gotta leave. We can’t stay here in the Nest forever."

"I wish we could. You’re my best friend, ever."

"You’re my best friend, too. We’ll keep in touch, I promise. I’ll call you, all the time. And my new foster parents said you could come over sometimes and spend the night."

Michelle kissed Amber, desperate to hold on to her as long as she could. Amber had become like a big sister to her. They’d learned so much together, and had so much fun. Michelle thought about how they weren’t going to have their pillowfights together anymore, or make each other up or braid each other’s hair or fall asleep in each other’s arms, and it made her want to cry and cry.

"Amber? I’m really sorry that I couldn’t be your lezzie girlfriend. I really wanted to, but I just can’t like girls that way anymore. But if I could be a lezzie, I’d totally be one for you."

"It’s OK. I’m just happy to have you for my best friend. And I’m really happy to see how happy you are, now. You’ve become such a good girl, Mickie. You’re going to be a wonderful wife and mommy."

Michelle giggled nervously.

"Oh, please don’t talk about me being a mommy, not yet! I mean, part of me wants to have babies, but it feels weird to think about it. I’m still getting used to having girl parts, you know? Sometimes I wake up, and just for a minute, I still think I’m a man."

"Don’t worry, you’re young. When you’re ready to have babies, you’ll know."

The thought hung in the air for a second. Michelle pictured herself, as a mommy. Pregnant. Just a few weeks ago, the idea would have been too ridiculous to contemplate. Now she really wanted it, even if it was scary. It would happen, someday.

"Hey," Amber said. "I want you to have something."

With a brave smile, she dug into her bag and handed Michelle Mr. Cubbins. Michelle gasped.

"Your bear? Sweetie, no! I couldn’t!"

"No, he wants to stay with you." Amber held him up next to her cheek, and spoke for him in a silly voice. "Take me with you, Mickie!"

Michelle took the bear and gulped back more tears.

"I’ll give him a good home, Amber."

They looked at each other. They weren’t so changed that they had forgotten the men they used to be. Sometimes they talked about the bad things they had done, the bad parts of them that were still there, deep down, fighting to come out. It was hard sometimes, to stay good. They had been strong, angry men, and it was hard to stay good girls. They had to work extra hard, they had to be twice as good as other girls, because the badness in them was so bad.

But if you really wanted to be a good girl, you could be. The Doves’ Nest had taught them that.

Amber sniffled.

"Am I a good girl, Mickie?"

"Sure, you are. We both are."

Then there was a knock at the door. Michelle looked up anxiously.

"Oh, no. Net yet!"

"Shh. Remember how much you wanted to leave, when you got here?"

"Yeah. But... not like this. I wanna be free, but not like this..."

The door opened, and Doctor Ramirez was standing there.

"Michelle. Your big sister is here."

As Michelle walked down the long corridor with Doctor Ramirez, she’d never felt more like a kid. She was 12. 10. 8. It was like she was getting smaller with every step.

"Doctor Ramirez? I wanted to ask you again if I could get different foster parents. I don’t wanna stay with my sister."

"I’m sorry, but foster parents aren’t an option for girls like you. You have a sibling who is willing to take you in."

"But... she testified against me in court, and got me sent to death row! I don’t wanna stay with her, she’s..."

"We’re done discussing this, Michelle."

"But it’s not fair!"

Doctor Ramirez bent down and gave Michelle a sharp look.

"Your sister testifed against you because she knew it was the right thing to do. You were a killer. You deserved to go to prison."

Michelle squirmed. Doctor Ramirez sounded mad. It was so scary when people were mad at you. Michelle put on her saddest face. She knew how cute her sad face was.

"Please," she whined. "I don’t want Jenny to see me like this. I don’t wanna be Jenny’s little sister. When I was a man, I used to say awful, stupid stuff about girls and Asians, all the time. If Jenny sees me like this, she’ll make fun of me."

"Michelle, I have explained this to you, over and over again. If you refuse to you let your sister be your legal guardian, then you’ll just have to go out and try and live on your own, as an adult woman."

"But... I’m not ready..."

"I know you’re not. So, your sister is going to take care of you, and that’s all there is to it."

"But..."

"ENOUGH, Michelle! You’re just going to have to accept this, and stop pouting!"

Michelle started to cry. It had been a long time since Doctor Ramirez had spoken harshly to her. Making Doctor Ramirez proud was very important to Michelle.

"I’m sorry, Doctor. I don’t wanna make you mad. I’ll be quiet."

Doctor Ramirez took out a tissue, bent down and blew Michelle’s nose for her. Then she used the tissue’s corner to dab at Michelle’s teary eyes.

"Now, stop that crying, honey. Don’t you want to look pretty for your sister?"

Michelle sniffled and didn’t say anything. This was going to be awful. Jenny would laugh at Michelle, and tease her about how she used to be a racist and a sexist and now she was an Asian girl. Living with Jenny would be the worst thing, ever. Worse than being on death row, even.

"Your sister loves you," Doctor Ramirez said. "She’s demonstrated that by her willingness to give you a home."

Michelle took the tissue from Ramirez’s hand and wiped away the last of her tears. No way was she going to let Jenny see her cry.

The doctor took Michelle’s hand and led her out to a plain little room with a bench. Jenny was sitting there. It seemed like years since Michelle had seen her. Jenny was like somebody from another life.

Jenny stood up, staring at Michelle. Jenny sure was tall, all of a sudden. Michelle wished she’d remembered to wear her heels.

"Oh, my God," Jenny said to Ramirez. "Is this really... her?"

"Yes, Jenny. This is Michelle, your sister."

Doctor Ramirez took Michelle’s hand and gave it to Jenny. She was handing Michelle over, just like a little kid. Michelle wished she could go back to her dorm room. Doctor Ramirez bent down and gave Michelle a kiss on the forehead.

"Goodbye, sweetie. I think you’ve become my very favorite of all my girls."

Michelle couldn’t help but smile.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you, Doctor. Can I come back and visit?"

"No, Michelle. You need to go on, and live your new life. Goodbye. You are a good girl."

She wiped away a tear, turned and left the room.

Michelle looked up at Jenny. It was bizarre to see her from this angle. She looked so big. And so old. She wasn’t even 30, but she looked old to Michelle. Grown-ups were big, and slow, and old, and they always seemed tired.

Jenny stared down at Michelle, fascinated. Michelle looked away, her face hot. She felt sheer panic, absolutely dreading the brutal teasing that she knew was coming. She had no defenses against it.

"Please don’t make fun of me," Michelle said quickly. "Please?"

Jenny was silent for a moment.

"What?"

"I know you wanna make fun of me, because I was a racist and I always said bad stuff about girls and now I’m an Asian girl and you think that’s funny. But I was your brother, and you testified against me and sent me to death row, and that really, really hurt my feelings. I was so mad at you, and I wanted to kill you. But now I’m a good girl and I don’t ever wanna hurt anybody, and if you’re mean to me, I can’t really fight back. If you make fun of me, I’ll just cry. A lot."

She caught her breath. She couldn’t even look at Jenny.

"So," she said, "please don’t make fun of me."

Michelle looked up. Jenny was smiling, a little sadly.

"I can’t even call you a little chink? I was really looking forward to that one."

"No! I’m an Asian American!"

Jenny looked like she was desperately trying not to laugh.

"Don’t laugh at that," Michelle said. "I’m proud of my heritage!"

Jenny burst into laughter. It was several moments before she managed to get control of herself.

"Heritage? Sweetie, even if you look Asian on the outside, inside, you’re still as white as me."

"No, I’m not. I’m the exact twin of a Korean woman. I have her DNA. I’m an Asian American, now."

Jenny shook her head, obviously confused by it all. She chuckled.

"Well, check out my little Asian American sister. I can hardly believe it’s really you. Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?"

Michelle frowned.

"I can’t tell if you’re teasing me or not."

"To be honest, neither can I."

She reached down and touched Michelle’s cheek. Michelle eyed her warily.

"I’ll try not to tease," Jenny said. "Really, I’ll try. But damn, it’s gonna be hard to resist."

She bent down low with a crooked smile.

"Listen, Mike. I want you to know how awful I felt about testifying against you. It was the hardest thing I ever did. But... I felt like I had no choice. You’d killed three people, and I knew that you had it in you to go on killing. You needed to be locked up for good."

"But I was your brother! You testified against your own brother!"

"The lawyers told me that you’d probably get life. I didn’t think you were gonna get the death penalty. I guess the judge wanted to make an example of you, or something."

Michelle looked away. She wanted to stay mad, but these days, it was hard for her to stay mad for long. She felt Jenny’s hand on her shoulder.

"Remember what I said, when I testified? I said that I still loved you. Even if I thought you were dangerous, even if I thought you belonged behind bars for the rest of my life, I still loved you. When you had this procedure, I read everything I could about it. And when they told me you needed a legal guardian, I said I wanted to do it. They said you’re like a whole, new person, and I want to do whatever I can, to help you start over. I’ll always be your sister, Mike. No matter what."

Michelle was still looking away. She felt like she was going to cry, and she didn’t want Jenny to see. Jenny touched Michelle’s chin, and lifted her head so they were facing each other.

"Hey, Mike."

"My name’s not Mike anymore. I’m Michelle, now."

"Give me time. For now, how about I just call you shorty?"

"How about you don’t?"

Jenny was staring again. Michelle squirmed.

"Please, don’t stare at me. It’s not like I’ve got two heads or something."

"No, you’re just my brother who is now a teenage girl. How old are you, anyhow?"

"Doctor Ramirez used to think I was maybe 18. But now she’s not sure, maybe I’m a few years younger. I’m a teenager, that’s all anybody knows for sure."

"18? The woman was high. You look 12."

"I do not! I’m not 12!"

Michelle folded her arms over her chest self-consciously. She knew she was supposed to have big boobs, someday. When were they going to show up, already?

"Come on," Jenny said, "Let’s get out of here."

Jenny took Michelle’s hand. Michelle flinched slightly. It didn’t feel right for Jenny to be so big. Michelle was used to being the big brother, not the little sister. And Jenny’s whiteness seemed strange, too. Michelle looked down at her own, golden hand in Jenny’s big, pink palm. Nobody would ever believe they were related.

Mike had spent his whole life feeling like he didn’t measure up to his precious little sister. Now Jenny was Michelle’s big sister, and it was worse than ever. Now, on top of everything else, Michelle envied Jenny’s height and her big boobs. Well, at least Jenny was already pretty old. When Michelle’s boobs finally grew, guys would probably like her more than Jenny.

They walked outside to Jenny’s car. Michelle looked around at the world. It seemed like years ago that she’d stood in this parking lot, ready to run from Doctor Ramirez. She felt so ashamed of herself, thinking about it. She had been such a bad girl.

They got into the car, and Michelle looked up at the big, square, brick building. She wiped away another tear. It felt like she’d been crying all day. Jenny reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

"You actually gonna miss this place, tough guy?"

"Yeah. This place feels like... home. This is like the place where I was born."

Jenny started the car.

"We’ll make you a new home, honey."

They exchanged a little smile. Michelle took one last look back over her shoulder as they pulled out into traffic. Michelle was saying goodbye to school, and the prospect didn’t just make her sad. It was terrifying. No more desks. No more books. No more uniforms. She was on the brink of panic.

She had to ask, even if Jenny laughed at her.

"Can I keep going to school?"

Jenny looked over at her.

"What? You just got out!"

"No, I mean, a regular school. I still feel like a kid. I’m not ready to go out and do adult stuff, and be a wife and a mommy. And for all I know, maybe I am still 14 or something. So, I wanna go to school. Can I go to school?"

Jenny laughed.

"Sure, Mike. If you wanna be a schoolgirl, that’s cool with me."

"Thanks. And it’s Michelle."

"Shorty."

"Can I go to a school with uniforms? I like the uniforms."

"A lot of schools have uniforms, these days. Sure. I think school would be a good idea. Nobody’s gonna question that that’s where you belong."

"OK." She gulped. "But... there’s one more thing. And it’s important."

"Yeah? What’s that?"

Michelle braced herself. If Jenny was going to tease her about anything, this was it.

"Well... I like boys, now, OK? You can’t tease me about that, even a little bit. It’s not my fault, they brainwashed me so I like boys."

Jenny bit her lip and watched the road.

"It’s OK, sweetie. They told me."

"OK. But the thing is... I’m gonna need a curfew and stuff. And chores. I need rules. I need somebody to be the grownup. And I need somebody to watch out for me, and make sure I don’t go out with boys who are bad to me, or who take advantage of me. All this stuff is still really new to me, and I can get really stupid about boys."

"Jesus. You ARE a teenage girl."

"I’m serious. I’m still learning to... control myself."

"It’s cool, honey. I’ll watch out for you. I don’t mind being the grownup. I always wanted a little sister. This is gonna be so fun."

Michelle sat back and looked out the window, at the passing cars. This actually seemed like it could work. She was free. Not so free that she was all alone. She was just free enough. As much as Michelle was looking forward to her first real boyfriend, she was even more excited about doing chores. And homework. Jenny would make the rules. Jenny would be the big sister. Michelle would have time to grow up.

"Hey," Jenny said. "It’s almost dinner time. Can you eat American food, or do you just eat eat egg rolls and stuff?"

Michelle rolled her eyes.

"Egg rolls are Chinese. And yes, I can eat American food."

Jenny grinned wickedly.

"Can you eat with a knife and fork, or do you need chopsticks?"

"Stop that!"

"Oh, you used to love to make shitty jokes about Asians. This is just a little cosmic justice."

"No, it’s you making fun of me, because you’re mean!"

"Aw, don’t get upset. I don’t want you to put pee-pee in my Coke."

"I’ll cry," Michelle said warningly. It was all she had in her arsenal. "I will totally cry, I mean it."

"OK, OK. Jesus, they sure turned you into a fragile little cherry blossom, didn’t they?"

"Please, just stop making fun of my heritage!"

Jenny laughed again. That did it. Michelle wiped away a lone tear and sniffled, making it sound just a little sadder and more pathetic than she really felt.

It had the desired effect. Jenny sighed, reached over and squeezed Michelle’s arm.

"I’m sorry," Jenny said. "I really am. But it’s just so funny to hear my big, redneck brother as a little Asian girl talking about her heritage. I mean, don’t you think that real Asian people..."

"I am a real Asian person. I have the DNA."

"Well, I mean, people who have, uh, always been Asian... wouldn’t they think it was sort of funny for you to be talking about your heritage? You’ve only been Asian for a few weeks!"

Michelle considered. It was true. She didn’t really know what it was it was like to grow up as an Asian American. She sure didn’t feel white anymore, but maybe it wasn’t fair to call herself Korean, either.

She looked at herself in the car’s side mirror. Every single person who saw her, for the rest of her life, would see her as an Asian. Racists would say terrible things. Some guys would be attracted to her just because of her ethnicity, they would fetishize her. People would expect her to act a certain way. And, because of her mental programming, she would fit a lot of their stereotypes. She would be meek. She would be very eager to please, and terrified of causing offense. She would giggle, and she would feel compelled to obey.

A part of her still didn’t want to be this person. She didn’t want everybody to treat her like a pretty Asian girl, to flatter her and condescend to her and do all the things that people did to and for girls like her. A part of her really wished she could be a man again. A part of her wished she wasn’t programmed to smile and act nice. But this was her, now. This was who she was, and this was her life, and there was no going back.

"I didn’t grow up an Asian American girl," she said. "But I guess I’m going to."

Jenny was quiet. They got onto the freeway, heading for their new home.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Jenny’s house. Michelle’s house now, too. It was big and really nice, but somehow being inside of it really drove home to Michelle how much everything had changed.

Mike hadn’t been to Jenny’s place for years. Now Mike was Michelle, and she was going to have her own room here, as a kid. Michelle would do the dishes, and her homework, and then maybe she would sit up for a while in her room, doing stuff online or drawing unicorns in her sketchbook, and then Jenny would come in and tell her it was time for bed.

It all sounded wonderful, mostly. But Michelle had just enough masculine pride left that it also sounded just a little bit horrifying. There would be times when Michelle would resent Jenny’s authority, when she would hate that her little sister had become her big sister and was now bossing her around. But Michelle needed authority, and she would have to do whatever her sister said. Being a good girl was too important, she didn’t have it in her to rebel.

Michelle went to her room and unpacked her bags, putting Mr. Cubbins on her pillow. The room was so plain and white, decorated for a man with no imagination or sense of humor. Jenny had said that Michelle could decorate it however she liked, and Michelle could already picture the walls painted pink, with glittery things and funny posters of kittens tacked up. Sometimes it annoyed Michelle just how silly and girly her tastes had become. But that kind of stuff made her happy, and there was no sense in fighting it.

She would do her homework in her pink, sparkly bedroom, and she would giggle on the phone with her friends here, and she would bring her boyfriends here, and they would kiss, on this bed. She would go to bed at night, and look out the window and dream about what would happen when she grew up. She would be happy. And being a happy girl was so much better than being an angry man.

She stepped over to the mirror and stuck a photo of herself and Amber into the edge of the frame. Then she sat down at her little table and looked into the mirror. Sometimes, her face still looked strange to her. Sometimes, she almost expected to see Mike looking back at her.

Was he there? She pushed herself to find him, in the mirror.

Yes, she could see a trace of him there, in her eyes. He was furious. He hated girls like her, and he hated being stuck inside of her. He thought she was a dumb, filthy chink. He was a bad, scary man, and she didn’t like him at all.

She looked him right in the eyes.

"I’m not afraid of you anymore," she said. "Because I’m real. And you’re just a bad memory."

She clamped her eyes shut and stuffed him back down inside of herself, way down deep where he couldn’t hurt anybody.

And when she looked in the mirror again, all she saw was her own, pretty eyes looking back at her, so brown they were almost black.

 

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