The Deception of Choice -Part 6-

“Anne,“ he managed, “Anne, they .... they would like to see you next. And they asked if you would take, take three schooners of ‘Dry Fly’ with you if you would be so kind.”

David stood uncertain, watching as Anne went quickly to the long table where she busied herself with glasses and a bottle. He sensed the others wanting to ask, to enquire how his interview went, but he could not face them immediately and, mumbling words that could have been an excuse, followed in Anne’s tracks to the drinks table. She had finished pouring and was arranging the tall glasses on a silver tray.

“She said I was to have one too”, David muttered and reached for the decanter. Anne saw his hands trembling. “Let me,“ she said, poured and handed him a glass. “I must hurry,” she said. “Tell me later.”

David watched her as she expertly swayed her hips in a walk that proved the value of the deportment class, and yet caused not even a ripple on the surface of the sherry in the schooners. He noticed his own hands trembling even more now as the aftermath of the interview took hold. He used both hands to guide the glass to his lips and felt the sherry run over lips that felt parched in spite of their creamy coating of lipstick.

He felt nauseous and needing to sit down as the tremors in his hands threatened to spread to other limbs. Reluctantly he made his way to the others and sat down, noting that, in spite of everything, his free hand swept the back of his skirt in the approved manner. The waiting girls as a group seemed to sense that he needed space, needed a little time.

David took another sip and finally looking up caught Emma’s anxious gaze. She hesitated then stepped towards him. “You look terrible darling, and you’re trembling. Was it really so bad?”

David nodded. “Yes for me it was. Nothing for you to worry about though. They .... She .... Grace de Messembry that is, wants to rectify some faults in me. I am sure that with you, with the others it will be all right. Just that I am .... It is my fault. I was stupid.“ David’s voice tailed off. He could not explain. Did not want to go into the details now, not then, not ever.

Emma caught his mood with instinctive empathy. She placed a hand on his shoulders. Her voice was full of concern, of friendship offered. “Sit there for a moment Sophie. Give yourself a few minutes to recover. Then we can see what can be done. Anne and I. And Laura of course. I am sure we can help in some way, that whatever it is we can solve together. You are not alone.”

She stood there, her hand still on his shoulder as David felt his world revolve; saw the abyss at his feet.

“I do not know that anyone can help. She was quite clear.” David shook his head. “I do not know what can be done.”

There they remained. David taking comfort from her but still with a great emptiness inside him. Torn between cursing himself for his own obduracy, his own foolishness, and the overwhelming sense of injustice that this was happening to him. Overshadowing all, the fear of where it was taking him and his own impotence in the face of it.

And then Anne returned. “They want to see you next Emma darling. Quickly dear! Nothing to worry about. You’ll walk it.”

“They said I could have a sherry too Sophie darling, Come with me and we’ll top yours up. I’m sure no-one will mind. And then you can tell me how I, how we, can help.”

She reached down and took his hand in a very feminine gesture, raising him to his feet. “Come darling. You look shattered. Tell me about it.”

So David did just that. His voice still feminine sounding and feeling strained in his throat. First hesitantly, half embarrassed at the foolishness, the intimacy of it all, the sentences isolated with long pauses as he sought to explain, and then the words tumbling out as the inhibitions were swept away.

Anne listened in silence until he was finished. Just a nod or a sympathetic smile, a hand on arm or a grasp of his hand, punctuating David’s tale.

“Let’s talk to Laura,” she said. “Maybe there is a way out. Do not give way to despair darling Sophie. Let us try to get it in perspective. Perhaps there is after all something we can do.”

“Laura was there,” David said. “She did not say anything.”

“Maybe she thought it was not the best time to say something. Maybe she wished to speak to you first. Maybe ..... there are lots of possible reasons Sophie. But if Laura can help, she will. You can count on that. As will we all.”

“Emma’s back,” Anne said, and David saw her approaching for what was obviously the customary sherry which was each girl’s due at the end of her interview.

“Details later Emma dear,” Anne said. “Briefly though Sophie would dearly like Grace de Messembry to change her mind on something. I am trying to convince her that such is very much a possibility if we can enlist, and I am sure we can, Laura’s aid. What do you think?”

“Of course she will! Grace de Messembry is no different from anyone else in that at least. Either as a whim, or for advantage, just like everyone else. But it must be presented to her as something that in no way decreases her power.”

Anne smiled wryly. “It doesn’t need to increase it, With Grace de Messembry an increase would be quite superfluous but she would not like any perception that it weakened her.”

In spite of himself David saw a flicker of hope. “Do you really think so? Really think that she might listen? That she might change her mind?”

“Yes Sophie, but Emma is right, you will have to convince her that her best interests lie elsewhere or, and this seems to me more likely, offer something in exchange.”

Emma nodded “Perhaps a combination of the two Anne,” she said. “But you will I think have to give something, concede something, Sophie. And maybe you will not like the cost of that?”

David was sobered by the premonition that dealing with Grace de Messembry might be fraught with costly pitfalls, but ....

“I would consider anything,” he said. “Anything.”

“We will talk to Laura as soon as this is over,” smiled Anne. “She will be able to help and advise, and with her on our side we should be able to convince Grace de Messembry.”

“All you have to do in the meantime Sophie is to pull yourself together. Remember to be ultra sweet and feminine in Grace de Messembry’s presence. Signs of untoward despair will only weaken your case.” Anne looked up. Christine was being interviewed, Alice had finished and was talking to Janet Saggren. Only Mona remaining waiting now. “It will be over in another hour. Just hold things together until then and we can talk and resolve this.”

“Do you really think it is possible,” asked David.

Emma looked at him and David suddenly realised how shrewd she was, possessed of an incisive street wisdom.

“ I am convinced of it,” she said. “One hundred percent certain. She will agree. Do not worry about that.”

“Certain? How can you be?” David felt the hope grow stronger and yearned for reassurance.

“I am certain because I know what I would do if I were she.” Emma smiled at him and David caught in that smile, in that moment, a glimpse of, not only warmth and friendship, but also something that might be pity. “I know what I would do in her shoes. And even ....” Emma hesitated ..... “Perhaps I can make an educated guess about those particular shoes.”

With that Emma suddenly turned away towards the approaching Jane Saggren and Christine. Further off David saw that Laura was leaving the interviewing group and was walking back with Alice. Mona was already deep in conversation with Grace de Messembry and Helen Vanbrugh.

Soon they were all, with the exception of Mona and the two directors, gathered round the summerhouse. David tried hard to appear as if his world was not falling apart. Tried desperately to fulfil the role assigned to him. Demure, ladylike, poised even. Conscious of the clinging femininity of his clothes, of the weight of his breasts, the flick of his hair against his neck, the waft of his perfume mingling with that of the others. Tried to dispel the sickness of his heart.

There was an almost party air prevalent. As if a great weight had been lifted, a cloud passed to let the sun shine through again. The inspection had obviously passed off well. Laura and Jane chattered with their charges, who in turn seemed relaxed and carefree. David saw both Anne and Emma become serious in small private moments with Laura, and saw such moments marked by glances in his direction. Otherwise the atmosphere was without care. Laura herself spoke to David and, again apart from the pressure of hand on elbow and a whispered, “Don’t worry, we will talk later.” seemed oblivious to the fact he did not share in the general gaiety.

Mona’s interview seemed to go on for ever, but even it finally ended and she came tripping towards them, her face lit up and excited. Grace de Messembry and Helen followed her, deep in conversation one with the other, but smiling and relaxed. They joined the group and a natural silence of deference stilled the chatter.

“Laura, Janet, girls,” began Grace de Messembry. “Just to tidy up a few loose ends and then Helen and I must leave you, at least for a short time.”

“First of all I would like to congratulate you all, every single one of you, on the absolutely splendid reception you have given us. As you know Helen and I look forward so very much to these little get-togethers and it is our one regret that we cannot be with you more frequently. It is always such a joy to see so many happy faces, so much solid progress made, so many girls fulfilling so admirably their destiny in such a worthwhile little community!”

Grace de Messembry’s smile, warm and gracious, fell upon all there like a benison. Helen Vanbrugh’s slighter smile echoed an amen.

“As you may be aware it is customary on such occasions to award some form of additional accolade by picking the best, the most deserving, of your two groups. It must be said that it is the one thing that we hate doing, and I do so wish that we could abandon the practice, but I do appreciate that you girls are foolishly attached to it, and that in encouraging a certain friendly girlish rivalry between you it does perhaps add a little interest to our meetings.”

“Well to put you all out of your misery,” again the gentle mocking smile embraced them all, “we will deal with that first. As you will already be aware, the reason that we hate thus adjudicating is that, in choosing the winners, we frequently feel that we are doing a grave disservice to the losers. So very unfair! And on this visit it has been found to be quite impossible! So many points, nearly all good, have so balanced one side against another that neither Helen and I, two people who, I do assure you, are not normally afflicted by indecision in any circumstances, have found it quite impossible to decide.”

“Thus we have reached the only possible conclusion open to us ....“ Another slight pause for dramatic effect. “We have decided to declare you both equal winners! Again congratulations to all concerned. To you girls, whose praises Laura and Jane have sung to us all morning, and of course to Jane and Laura themselves who do such splendid work here. Helen and I both value their work here enormously, as I am sure you all do.”

“So the winner’s privileges go to all of you!”

“Not that there were not one or too imperfections of course. But none of them serious. None of them that can’t be solved by a little more effort, or perhaps just a greater awareness of what is expected of you. Individual girls are, I am sure, strengthened by the little discussions we have had. Indeed faults we perceive in you are often the result of oversights, or lack of awareness of your needs, on our part. So this can be quite a humbling experience for us, but at least we are comforted by the knowledge that this process enables us to solve those little problems that may have seen insurmountable to you, but which, in reality, can be resolved by us by a mere administrative stroke of the pen, by a little more consideration.”

David knew it was not in his imagination that Grace de Messembry’s smiling gaze caught his own and lingered there momentarily.

“And now for some exciting news! Perhaps a little sad too, for I know she will be dreadfully missed here. Mona will be leaving you this weekend. She has made such brilliant progress that both Helen and I believe that she has outgrown the benefits of this Holding Wing and now needs to move on. She has become such a darling girl, an example to all you aspirants, that I am sure that you will wish her all the best in the new stage of life now before her.”

Grace de Messembry turned towards Mona and with a gesture drew her to stand close by her side. She placed a hand protectively on her elbow with an air of satisfied ownership.

“Mona has been a most delightful student and her achievement in making such a positive start to her transition has been quite outstanding. She will be leading us for our Finishing Centre tomorrow and I know she will take with her all our very best wishes for her time there. I am sure her success here will be mirrored at the Centre and so it only remains for us to wish her all happiness, both there and in the future that lies before her.”

All applauded. David found himself joining in but could not simulate the added little cries denoting enthusiasm and delight which came from Emma and Anne now standing next to him. Mona looked quite radiant at the compliments. Blushing slightly, her eyes a-sparkle, she was the epitome of girlhood, of femininity, of grace and beauty.

“To mark the occasion,” Grace de Messembry continued, “And to celebrate the progress that you have all made, I have decided that this evening we will have a little party.”

Her smile swept over them all, encompassed them all.

“It will give us all a chance to dress up in our glad rags and don our best frillies. I know how young girls adore that! And so that the glamour won’t be wasted I will bring along a few of my nephews and their friends whom I am sure will be suitably dazzled.”

Again the smile flashed.

“But I do insist that you let me have them all back relatively undamaged at the end of the proceedings.”

The smile expanded into a long, low, sultry laugh of genuine amusement.

“So shall we say an eight o’clock start? Here on the roof garden I think. No need for you to do anything Laura, Jane, Apart from looking as fetching as ever. Helen has arranged for some staff to come in and fix everything.”

All the girls crowded round Mona chattering excitedly. Grace de Messembry and Helen became deep in discussion with Laura and Janet Saggren.

David just stood there. The world washed over him. He felt detached and numb. He saw Laura look warningly in his direction and realised that he was standing alone, so he joined the others round Mona and tried to blend in with them. The talk jumped and spun from Mona and her departure to the evening’s party and back again. David tried to relate to it. Would he also accept and welcome such praise in future? At some future date would he blush to hear his femininity thus admired? And what was the Finishing Centre to which she was going? And what could it do that the Holding Wing didn’t? Was it a destination or just another stage? Was it the answer to the why he had been seeking or just another complication?

And, with Mona gone, would he ever discover more of the bare branches? And China? The ‘why’ to his misfortunes.

David shivered. Was there nothing but questions?

Questions and .... Oh God .... and his promised mutilation? He looked around for Laura. He must speak to Laura! There must be something he could do. Something he could give to .... to .... He clung to the hope that Emma and Anne were right and that it could all be negotiable.

He became aware of movement. The meeting was ending. Other voices stilled as Grace de Messembry raised hers so that all were included in her words. Numbly he heard them drifting, detached phrases, through the turmoil of his thoughts.

“Must be going .... Times wingá¨d chariot etc. And I just know that you will all be wanting to rush away to prepare for this evening ... So looking forward to it myself .... So pleased with your progress . .. all of you .... This evening then ....”

Groups were breaking up. David was startled to find Helen Vanbrugh at his shoulder. Smiling at him, her hand light on his elbow.

“Try not to be too upset. Acceptance is the key. If I can help at all then I will. And you are lucky in Laura as a friend. I would like you to think of me as one too.”

And then she too was gone, joining Grace de Messembry in an elegant departure, in a clicking of heels and a swirl of perfume.

The girls were left chattering excitedly. In relief that the inspection was over and in anticipation of the evening that lay before them.

David felt sick. His heart dead inside him as the outward sensations of his new femininity surrounded him. Caressed by the silky smoothness of his lingerie and hose, the confinement of his girdle and the swirl of his dress. The taste of lipstick and the scent of perfume. ‘Blue’ by La Perla the thought rose unbidden.

‘Accept’ Helen Vanbrugh had urged. And he tasted the bitter knowledge that acceptance, insidious and invasive, would inevitably grow on him as day followed day. That femininity would come to be less strange, more normal, more acceptable, as it became his everyday existence.

Unless .... unless. There had to be an unless. At least he could contest each point, each stage. In the hope that the unless would be realisable. He had to be ‘too upset’. To accept was the end.

He became aware that the others had gone with the exception of Laura who was walking back to him as Anne and Emma disappeared down the stairs. She looked grave.

David’s hope of sympathy was shattered.

Laura was seething, incandescent.

“You stupid, stupid girl. Stupid and selfish! I told you, warned you! For your own good. Such silly little futile gestures. Things I had specifically mentioned to you. To make things easier for you. I trusted you and you betrayed that trust.”

Laura shook her head, made a conscious effort to calm down.

“You nearly spoilt everything. You made me look a fool in front of Grace de Messembry. You let down Emma and Anne and risked negating all the work we have done. Stupidity I can stomach Sophie but you were selfish and that is harder to forgive.”

“Laura, Laura I am so sorry. I did not mean to ....” David was taken aback by her anger. He had thought that the wrong done to him would be the priority. “I did not mean, did not expect, to upset you or Anne and Emma. I can see that it was stupid. I know now but I did not then realise that it affected others.”

It all proved too much. David’s misery at his own plight was multiplied by the condemnation and scorn of Laura. The one whose help he had thought to be his one chance He felt tears running down his face. Blindly he turned away from her and sat heavily in one of the chairs, his head resting on his arms, and gave way to the grief, and indeed the fear, that whelmed up inside him.

Two, three minutes passed. David felt Laura’s hands on his shoulders, warm through the fabric of his dress. Another minute passed. She stayed there silent yet the human contact alone comforted him.

Finally she spoke. “Sophie I am still here for you.” She sighed. “Anne and Laura have both spoken to me. And of course I was there, I saw it in your eyes then. The despair.”

“You have good friends. They do care, and wish to help in spite of the fact that you put them at risk too.” Again Laura sighed. this time in exasperation. “Sophie I don’t think you realise how lucky you were, how lucky you, all of us, are. Grace de Messembry on another day could have come down on us all like a ton of bricks. She was in a remarkably benign and affable mood. Playful even. Oddly enough she seems to like you. Certainly Helen told me that you amuse her. Not that amusing her can be without its disadvantages mind you!”

Laura’s fingers tightened slightly on David’s shoulders.

“It could be very different you know. On another day you could be paying a visit to the Rehabilitation Centre. And we, Anne and Emma, perhaps the others too, could have had all privileges withdrawn and I could be up before the board for neglecting my duties here.”

“As it is .. As it is your actions have rebounded only upon yourself, and even that could have been worse, believe me.”

“Worse?” David shuddered. “It is bad enough. I cannot bear to think of it. It is mutilation. A humiliating form of mutilation.”

“Nevertheless worse it could well have been. I don’t need to spell out some obvious options do I? And don’t exaggerate. Nothing is to be removed. Just a modification that might well be reversible.”

David shook his head. “Anne, Emma thought you might be able to help. That perhaps you could persuade Grace de Messembry to rethink. To opt for something else to ....” David’s voice tailed away as the hopelessness swept back.”

“They have already spoken to me about it.” Laura’s voice was grave. “You ask a lot Sophie. To put my head on the block for you after your actions, your thoughtlessness, so very nearly brought disaster upon us all. I can’t count on Grace de Messembry always being in such a good mood. And one thing that she does not like is her judgement being questioned.”

“They thought,” David’s voice faltered, unsure. “they thought that perhaps I could offer something, an alternative .... concede something.” David realised how weak it all sounded as the words left his mouth.

“Sophie.” Laura’s voice was gentle now, all traces of anger gone. “What can you offer, what can you concede, that Grace de Messembry cannot take if she so desires?”

There was silence between them as David conscious of Laura’s eyes upon him, questioning, tried desperately to think of something that he could offer. He shook his head despondently.

“I don’t know ,” he said. “Emma seemed to think that there could be something that would be to her advantage to accept, that you would know, could suggest something. She seemed confident. Maybe she was just trying to .... to make me feel better.”

Laura sat down opposite David and looked at him seriously with a hint of calculation in her eyes as if she were trying to probe his thoughts.

“Emma is smart. Bright and streetwise. One would not think so but she is. She has a surprising insight into how the world works.” Laura herself sounded pensive. “I have talked to her about this and she may well be right, But I am not sure whether it will benefit you in even the medium term. Remember that in negotiating with Grace de Messembry you are bound almost inevitably to surrender much to gain a little. And that there will be certainly a snag.”

Laura reached out and laid her hands on the table her fingers overlapping David’s.

“Have you heard of a zugzwang?”

David shook his head.

“It is a chess term which, I am told, describes a position from which whatever move you make will lead to a worsening of your circumstances. I think, alas, it applies to your position too.”

“You understand?”

David nodded. “I know but I do not want them to cut me there. Please. Anything but that. I am desperate.”

Laura’s fingers held David’s.

“All you can offer, all you have to offer, is willingness Sophie. Willingness to embrace femininity. Not just to pay it lip service but to embrace it with enthusiasm.”

Laura’s eyes searched for a response from David’s.

“That is the one thing that Grace de Messembry cannot enforce Sophie. She can make you jump through all the hoops that she, or you, can envisage. But your active desire to conform to her wishes, that is beyond her. That is the one and only thing she lacks and thus it is the only thing of value that you can offer. Your willingness. Your full acceptance of, and active striving for, femininity.”

Laura saw the dawning, dread, understanding in David’s eyes.

“In accepting Grace de Messembry’s will as your will and striving for its advancement without reserve, indeed anticipating its fulfilment as regards your acceptance of your essential femininity, you make her a gift. One which would most likely allow her to feel that any change in her mind over previous plans would be amply justified.”

David nodded, allowing the full significance of the bargain to sink in.

“And you really think she would accept?” He said. “That she would agree?”

Laura nodded. “Yes I think she would. Emma is quite right. Think about it. Her suggested modification is calculated to bring home to you, in a somewhat dramatic fashion, the fact that you are required to adopt a more feminine behaviour pattern. In exchange you are offering to accept willingly such a behaviour pattern and indeed to go much, much further along such a path. The gain is all her’s.”

Laura paused, seeming to search for words. “It may not matter much of course. Dear Sophie, as I am sure that you are by now aware, you are destined to be more feminine. That is why you are here. So whatever path you follow is irrelevant to the eventual destination. Whether the mental process will prove to be less, well, traumatic, if you fight it, rather than if you accept, it I do not know. Such is probably a matter of individual personality. Obviously by willingly accepting femininity you do avoid an immediate physical intervention. The choice is yours.”

Her voice petered out. David looked up at her. The word ‘immediate’ hung heavy between them.

Laura shrugged “I am a female of course so it is difficult for me to know, to appreciate. My natural inclination is to think that being a girl is good, preferable indeed. I know I would not change. I think that you will find many things to enjoy in femininity at whatever stage thereof you eventually arrive, perhaps even that in time you could prefer it. But of course I realise that I can never truly understand how you feel and that it is natural for you to cling to what you perceive yourself to be.”

David’s throat was sore. The spray was wearing off and his voice was ragged, breaking in and out as he spoke dully, his brain packed with cotton wool. He thought of querying the word ‘perceive’ but it seemed too great an effort. And futile.

“You spoke of a snag. Is that it? That it does not matter? That the destination is the same?”

Laura shook her head. “No the snag is simpler than that. If you can accept the need to sit to pee and can come to terms with the reality that you are not going to be effectively sexually penetrative in at least the immediate future, then the intervention is quite minor and will not effect you in any really meaningful way. And she will have lost the power that the threat has. It cannot be used twice by its very nature. So you will both have lost something.”

“But if you opt for the other trade. Then you will have given something, something of value, and she will have kept something. Her threat will remain intact, unused. A Sword of Damocles that is ever present. What is more you have added to the value of the threat. She will then know that it, and others of its ilk, are effective.”

Laura looked at him with compassion. “As I said Emma is really very smart. She saw it immediately. It is because of that that she feels certain that Grace de Messembry will accept.”

Laura steepled her fingers just as Grace de Messembry had done so short, so long, a time before

“If you still wish for me to try to persuade her.”

Chapter 16.

David stared back at her, trying to take it all in. Trying to understand the ramifications. His brain felt overwhelmed, sluggish.

He heard his cracked voice speak “What should I do? What can I do?”

Laura’s anger had quite vanished, forgotten in her genuine concern. Perhaps even her anger had been sparked by her concern.

“Only you can decide. As I said, I am a female, have always been female. Part of me would encourage you to accept femininity and enjoy it. And I assure you it really can be very enjoyable.”

She smiled gently, almost tenderly, at David.

“And of course I am here to guide you to it, to help you along the path to it. So on both those counts I am admittedly biassed. But part of me can conceive of your dilemma, understand your feelings. In the end only you can decide. Only you have the necessary perspective.”

David nodded.

“What will it entail?” He asked. “If I choose the option of acceptance, of willingness to embrace femininity? More than just sitting to pee and wearing nightdresses I presume? What more will be required?”

“How long is a piece of string? It is open ended. It would require that you actively seek femininity. Not just that you fully co-operate with us in advancing towards it but that you run eagerly down the path before you. That you explore with enthusiasm ways that might facilitate, hasten, your acquiring it.”

“Sophie,” Laura continued. “Nothing can of course change what your true feelings might be. But such must remain hidden deep inside you. Whatever your inner feelings, nothing but enthusiasm for the journey towards femininity must be evident to the outside world. In thought, word and deed you must appear as a girl whose sole desire is to make up for lost time in learning to be the perfect model of what a young lady should be.”

Laura paused to order her thoughts.

“And moreover you will have to evince delight and enjoyment in all aspects of your burgeoning female persona.” Laura’s voice took on a sombre tone.” All aspects. You understand Sophie? All aspects!”

Silence fell. David sat there and wished for the world to end.

At last.

“I know it is the wrong decision,” he said finally. “Defying common sense. But I cannot let them mutilate me. And, and that is more immediate. Somehow the other is more removed. It gives more room for hope, more time for circumstances to change; for something else to happen. Something that will prevent it .... happening.”

He looked up at Laura who nodded. He saw in her eyes that she had expected him to choose as he had.

“It gives leeway, however illusory. I choose to conform, to her wishes, to be willing to accept femininity. Please try and persuade Grace de Messembry to agree Laura. Please.”

Laura rose and stood looking down at him. “Yes,” she said. “If that is really what you want. I will be seeing Helen Vanbrugh this afternoon before the party. I will first talk to her. She has influence with Grace de Messembry. And she, Helen, also is, I think, on your side.”

“You will need to start now Sophie, to convince Grace de Messembry of your sincerity. Remember nothing is decided until she agrees. And her agreement, in spite of our optimism, is not to be taken for granted. There is still much to be done to convince her. I, and perhaps Helen, can talk to her, but she will be watching you like a hawk, and evaluating how you behave at the party and our words will be of less importance than the impression you give.”

Laura glanced at her watch. “Let us join the others for a quick bite of lunch Sophie. And then we can plan our strategy both for the party and for your performance at it.”

As David stood up she leant forward and took hold of his upper arm. “Remember it starts now! You are naturally terribly excited at the prospect of a party and dressing up and being girly and... and Grace did mention bringing some young men with her didn’t she? Mmmmm there is something to look forward to, to speculate on with the other girls. To make sure you look your best for!”

“Remember,” she said as they walked together away towards the stairs. “It starts now. Femininity here you come.”

They found Anne and Emma sitting waiting for them in the dining room. The looked up expectantly, faces eager, searching the faces of Laura and David for the good news that would allow their half smiles to blossom fully. David reminded by a tightening of Laura’s hand on his arm, walked the walk of femininity and smiled reassuringly at them so that they both stood up and planted little kisses on his cheek. Their hands searching for his to give little squeezes of support.

“Sorry we are a little late. Haven’t you eaten yet? So good of you to wait but Sophie and I have had things to discuss as you both know.” Laura smiled at the two girls. “And I can tell you that we are all going to give it a try. I will see if I can persuade Grace de Messembry to reverse her earlier decision. And dear Sophie here has assured me that her fondest wish is to embrace femininity in all its aspects, and that I can urge that upon Grace de Messembry with a clear conscience.”

Little cries of delight from Anne and Emma as again they pecked David on the cheek. Emma’s eyes sparkling with excitement, “ I am so pleased really, really pleased.” Anne’s eyes smiling too but darker with understanding. “It is for the best. You mustn’t agonise, better to accept. It is the only way.”

They sat down at the table. All four of them. All smoothing their skirts under them as they swivelled neatly into their chairs. All poised. All aware of themselves, their bodies controlled, radiating femininity. Three of them naturally, for Anne was well advanced in her progress. David having to concentrate.

Lunch was light. “Mustn’t gorge ourselves before the party.” Emma pointed out. Salade Niçoise followed by poached salmon, spinach and a few new potatoes. White wine however flowed. Perhaps they all felt the need to unwind. David felt light headed. Everything rather more unreal than normal. if normality could be applied to the present. Laura sat alongside him. She didn’t discourage him from drinking but her hand’s pressure on his arm constantly prompted him, reminding him of his undertaking.

The forthcoming evening dominated the conversation. David’s decision, once taken, was not dwelt upon. Rather there seemed to be a tighter bond between them. A communal desire to gloss over his pain perhaps. Perhaps more an acceptance of David’s new status, of his having passed a mental divide.

“They can be quite dishy.” This from Emma referring to the potential male guests. She giggled. “If a bit sex starved! And rather gauche. Still dishy in a gauche way!”

“What shall we wear? Nothing too grand, just something light but dressy?” This from Anne.

“I will try to find you all something new,” smiled Laura. “Sexy but demure, enticing but correct, all promise but with insurance.” Something mid calf perhaps but low cut with .... Well I will ask permission to make a special raid on the wardrobe. Don’t worry you will all be quite stunning! I feel sorry for her male guests already!”

“Classic all fur coat and no knickers,” giggled Anne.”

“I hope we can stop short of that,” laughed Laura. “Perhaps suggest it though!”

“Such fun, isn’t it Sophie sweetie?” David realised that Emma was addressing him. “You will really not regret it darling Sophie, really you won’t. I am so looking forward to helping, to sharing things with you. I promise you will just love it!”

Her eager face radiated the enthusiasm that David knew he had now to emulate.

“Yes,” he said. “Such fun, dearest Emma, such fun. And you must help me otherwise I shall just be the ugly sister at the ball, eclipsed by my two sisters.”

A chorus of denials broke out. David saw Laura smiling at him. “No chance of that darling Sophie,” she said. “No chance of that. Tonight you have to be the belle of the ball.”

When they broke up it was after three. David sat in his room with instructions from Laura to rest for a couple of hours; to rest and to try to relax. Perhaps try the TV, or read, not to brood too much, but to make sure he was bathed, shaved (all over) smooth and silky skinned, bright eyed and bushy tailed by 6 o’clock when she would drop by with a dress and accessories for the evening.

“There is nothing much I can add,” she had said. “You know the score. This is the first, crucial, test, and above all you must be seen to enjoy it. I have other girls to look after. And I have to make myself presentable. And find time to speak to Helen Vanbrugh.”

Suddenly she had leant forward and kissed him.

“And remember I cannot cover for you any more! From now on you will need to convince me as well. My evasions and lies will not protect you. Not after this morning. You have made this choice. Embarked on this course, and ultimately on you alone hangs its success or failure.”

Again a kiss. Softer, elegiac almost. Her voice had dropped to a whisper so that David could scarce hear her words.

“If you know any more what success and failure are for you.”

And so he sat there. Trying not to think. Trying not to dwell on the path that he had chosen for himself. And to where it would, inevitably seemingly, lead.

He turned on the TV and found the channels were limited to an in-house programme of fashion, beauty, female interests in general. The CDs and DVDs were the same. The pile of magazines was comprised exclusively of Elle, Vogue, Cosmopolitan, Marie Claire etc. He knew that in future these would have to be read, and inwardly digested; that he would have to feign, no not feign that would be too dangerous, that he would have to develop an interest in them.

But not now. Too much had happened, too much remained to happen, this day. Now he needed to rest. Needed quietly to come to terms with this new reality. Earlier he had feared that his old reality would be eroded by the constant presence of the new: that the edge of his resistance would inevitably be blunted by the everyday reality of what had been forced upon him.

But now he had chosen to encourage that erosion. To dig enthusiastically himself at the very foundations of his own identity. He knew with a deadly certainty that the wearing of lingerie day in, day out, would lead to such being normal wear. Unremarked on by his consciousness. That the weight of breast forms, their shape, their movement, on his chest, would likewise become second nature over time. Perfume would become as natural a scent as after shave, Make-up part of his morning's routine, the ritual application accepted and perhaps in time thought of as normal. Repetition would dull strangeness and lead to acceptance, liking, preference perhaps. Would he hanker after it if it were denied?

And now he had added a voluntary mental acceptance to the equation. More dangerous than the physical. He was conniving at his own defeat. What was the word Laura had used? Zugzwang? He was out of his league.

The spark, the inner spark that was increasingly all that was left of him would also be eroded. God no. That must never happen not completely. Please God no.

He looked at the bright decorative bracelet watch and saw that time was ebbing away. He rose and made his way into the bathroom. Dragging his panties down on his thighs, he lifted his skirt and slip, and sat down on the toilet to pee.

What a stupid, futile, dangerous gesture standing had been!

He sat there looking down over the soft swelling curves of his breasts at his hose clad legs which made his ankles seem so much slimmer, so much sexier, his feet lifted to an unnatural angle by his heels. His panties, delicate, lacy, were half concealed by the broad lace edge of his slip lying across the top of his thighs. With a sickening feeling he realised that he was becoming aroused by the sexy femininity of his own appearance. His penis hardening rapidly, thrust upward making its own mound in the tangle of delicate fabric that indistinguishably comprised .panties and slip. A moan escaped his lips as his right hand unbidden slipped amongst the froth of lace. The skin rivalled the lingerie in velvety smoothness. Already the tip gave forth a pearl of lubrication over which his fingers slid, sliding, sliding over the glans and down the shaft itself, now rigid with its own blind unthinking desire.

He shivered. Last night he had resisted. But the imperative was so much greater now. If he was not successful in negotiating away his own sexual identity then this might be one of the last chances he had to ejaculate, Perhaps the last time that his sperm could surge forth rampant, spurting proudly up and outwards propelled by the need to impregnate. Next time perhaps, if there were a next time, it would dribble forth sadly, oozing over his testicles and drip, defeated, in a sorry string of lumpen futility.

Christ! They would of course know, but they had not objected before. His hand moved up and down. Pulling his skirt back he saw the red of his long finger nails contrasting with the satin smoothness of his skin, whitened by his time in the cell. Perhaps they wanted him to do it. To decrease his masculinity? To weaken his resolve?

All such thoughts faded into the background as the incessant, increasing physical need wiped out all other considerations. He watched as hands, no longer really his with their long oval tapering crimson nails, slid over the tip of his cock, slid over and plunged down the shaft. Half sliding, but half grasping, moving the skin over the veined rigidity that throbbed amongst the tangle of champagne slip and panties’ lace. The silkiness of the lingerie sliding across the back of his hand duplicating the soft sliding of his own fingers. His other hand pushed back the silken clothing to reveal the taut firmness of the girdle and the tabs stretched to the band of his stockings.

He looked down as if he were just a third party voyeur. So feminine a sight! His perfume rose to his nostrils, His hair fell across his face as his earrings touched his neck. And all the time his red tipped girlish hands caressed the swollen prick that intruded, insistent, all demanding. So feminine a sight apart from that rampant evidence of masculinity. As if there were two people. The male driven to lust that could not be denied by the delightful yielding promise of a female paradise. Driven to lust but also lured to lust. The blind unthinking penis lured to waste itself, to shrink back leaving the ultimate victory to the female.

As his climax approached, his hips rocking, jolting, control of his actions past, his breath rasping in his still sore throat, David had the sudden intuition that the penis was the intruder, was the alien. His very lust was fired by the femininity of his, David’s body, its perfume, its female trappings. His new found feminine self was seducing this penis, making a fool of it, draining it of its masculinity.

Sophie was a reality.

His moans of ecstasy turns to sobs as his semen was released, spouting, gushing forth. He grabbed his cock with both hands in despair, fingers clamped over its end so that the sperm was caught there, trickling thick and lumpy in strings through his fingers, gathering in little interconnected pools on his hands. He realised a need to keep it from staining, from spoiling his pretty frilly undies.

He sat there for several minutes on the toilet. The tears running down his cheeks, his semen running through his hands down over his testicles. He felt not just the normal deflation after ejaculation, but something akin to fear

Eventually he rose. Cleaned himself with toilet paper. Noted ruefully that he had at least been successful in keeping his undies unsullied by semen, and, first turning on the bath taps, went back into his room to undress. He carefully took of his shoes, and dress which he hung on a hanger. With a dream like concentration he removed his slip, girdle, panties, bra and breast forms, stockings, jewellery, carefully folding where appropriate. Conscious in his nakedness of the hairlessness of his body; aware of its softness, pampered by bath oils and the Venumar skin treatments. Aware too of the thin red marks on his chest left by the underwired bra.

He went back into the bathroom, adjusted the temperature by a quick running of the cold tap, added a liberal amount of the soft scented bath oil and stepped in, sat, leant back, letting the water soak into him, lull him into a forgetting. He needed to be mindless, to cultivate mindlessness. Not to think, not to analyse. Not now, later perhaps, but not now if he were to get through this day. If he needed to embrace femininity, and he did, then he must embrace it, thinking only of the details, of how to do it, concentrating on all he had been taught, taking pleasure in his ability to do so, smiling at the satisfaction of doing so successfully, and at others’ compliments.

What he must not do was to hold futile debates with himself or give way to maudlin despair, or indeed anger. He had chosen this option and he had to succeed.. To fail would bring the worst of both worlds. He had to be play the role tonight to perfection. To do that he must not think about what he was doing. Only how to do it.

He stood up and dried himself. Went to the wash basin, applied skin cleanser and shaved. He massaged his body with lotion feeding its newly acquired softness. Back to the wardrobe to select an utterly feminine housecoat of a soft satiny pink fabric.

David sat at the dressing table regarding the assortment of cosmetics blankly. Then he shook himself and reached purposely for the foundation.

When, at six o’clock, a discrete knock heralded Laura’s arrival David was, with infinite care, blending eye shadow and smudging it onto his lids trying hard to remember all that he had been told.

He swivelled around as Laura staggered in, half hidden by a dress covers and several boxes.

“Darling give me a hand with these, before I drop them all.”

David rose and padded across to take some of the burden, a vision in pink, his house coat swirling seductively around him.

“Oh and you have made such a good start. You look super darling!” Laura’s eyes sparkled at him.

“I have had such an exciting time since I left you! I have spent some time with Helen and she is most sympathetic and has promised to do all she can to help. She will back us to the hilt!”

Laura dumped the parcels on the bed, hanging the dress cover and its contents on the wardrobe door.

“Just wait till you see what I have found for you to wear this evening! But first I must tell you about Helen. I think she has taken a shine to you darling!”

“But I have been so clever! Really clever! Cunning as a vixen. And all for you Sophie sweetie. I asked her advice on what you should wear this evening, you know to create the best impression with Grace de Messembry.”

Laura ushered David back to the dressing table “Here let me give you a hand with those eyes darling. You are not quite there yet!. Let me show you.”

Laura busied herself with David’s eyelids, still bubbling with excitement.

“And it worked! She really entered into the spirit of the thing. In fact as she was leaving she said she had had the most enjoyable afternoon for ages!. She really is such a poppet. And had some really good ideas! But the main thing was that we got her on our side. And she is invaluable. Do you know she fixed it for your breasts?”

“Fixed it for my breasts? “ David knew he must show similar enthusiasm but he could not keep up with Laura’s chain of thought, slowly submerging in the froth of her excitement.

“Do pay attention Sophie! Strictly speaking the use of adhesive breast forms has to be sanctioned by a Board member. It is after all a privilege. But of course Helen is a Board member and she could hardly refuse could she since she was the one who suggested the dress?”

David felt Laura’s fingers, sure and skilled brush his face, fixing liner, mascara, improving the effect he had so painstakingly tried for, in a few minutes.

“Really it was such a brainwave of mine to enlist her help. And she really is good! Prepare to be thrilled dearest Sophie!”

“Come and look!” Laura went over to the wardrobe and with a dramatic flourish produced a dress from its cover. “It is so right for you Sophie!. What do you think?”

David could distinguish little apart from a glimpse of a white dress that seemed inadequately sized. He knew though that under the new rules, delight was called for.

“Oh it’s super Laura. You are so good to me. I am so thrilled! How clever you are to find it.”

“Yes it combines sexiness and innocence so deliciously well doesn’t it. You really will be the belle of the ball in it Sophie.”

Laura held it up against her front to give David the benefit of a better view.

“It’s a by Jean-Paul Gaultier design. Look at that fantastic corset top darling with the overstitched seaming below the bust. So very sexy. And it was Helen’s idea to go for the white. Black seemed the obvious choice but she convinced me that the white was such a wicked contrast! Virginity with a sexy, seductive, bedroom allure.”

“And don’t you just love those thin shoulder straps? Quite irrelevant! But of course you can’t wear a bra with straps as well. So that is where the adhesive comes in And Helen found me some new forms as well, special models for long lasting adhesion. Products of Venumar’s latest research!”

“Well what do you think?”

David sensed the challenge behind the question. Knew that whilst Laura’s delight and enthusiasm were genuine, he too must play his role. That he too was expected to share the rapture.

He breathed in deeply in appreciation. “It’s truly beautiful Laura. Quite stunningly beautiful. I am such a lucky girl. But isn’t it a little, well, a little short?” He stumbled, recovered “ I mean am I advanced, skilled enough, to carry it off, to do it justice?”

“Of course you are. don’t be such a silly goose! That is the whole point anyway. In this outfit you don’t have to carry it off. It will carry you! A bit of leg is always a distraction and this is designed to distract! It’s skin tight with quite a lycra content and barely comes to mid-thigh but with a bit of care sitting down you should be all right. Teach you to sit in a ladylike manner anyway.”

Laura giggled.

“And the joy of it is darling .... these! Da. Da!”

With another flourish she produced a pair of knee high white leather boots.

“They are Italian with the uppers in an elastic type of leather, eco-leather they call it, so they will hug the leg. Aren’t they just made for this dress? And I take no credit. It was Helen’s inspiration. I can’t wait to see you in them.”

“I had thought of a cocktail dress sort of ensemble. But as Helen says this makes a much, much more positive statement! Daring and oozes commitment!”

Laura put the dress on the bed.

“Lots of other things to show the party girl, but first let us get these breasts fixed darling, then we can concentrate on the undies while they are setting. Best stand up sweetie then we can be sure of the positioning. Nothing damages a girl’s morale so much as lop-sided tits!”

Laura chortled, a deep sound, full of genuine amusement. David joined in, inwardly thanking her for the infectious quality.

He stood up and faced her as she produced and unwrapped the breast forms. If anything they were perkier than his previous slip-in ones, although about the same size. “'C' cup darling,” Laura said, “ample for you at the moment. And the drag on the skin will be quite manageable.”

“Latest adhesive too,” she said, “guaranteed to last at least a fortnight. A sort of two pack. The first part on the breast form, and the second on the breast itself.” Her hands gently smoothed the surprisingly liquid lotion onto David’s skin. “And then we have to wait for a couple of minutes. Just time for me to show you the undies to go with the outfit darling.”

Another parcel unwrapped to reveal an underwired bustier. “ Padded cotton lined cups for a firm hold darling, but just look at all that delicious embroidered tulle! The straps are detachable so we can forget them for this evening. A bustier will give your breasts that extra support, especially as this has soft bones incorporated and silicon bands at the back to give a perfect firm fit.”

Laura waved another fragment of fabric in David’s direction. “Matching stretch tulle panties Sophie darling. Look as if they are hardly there but should give you good tucking support for your special needs. No room for a girdle or anything under the dress. Also the tabs on both it or a suspender belt would show through. Terribly sexy in its way of course, but not the ladylike image that Grace de Messembry is so keen on. So you will have to make do with hold-ups. Nice lacy topped ones to give those enticing glimpses if you are not too careful, or if you are very careful.”

Again the deep chuckle.

David felt that comment from him was overdue. “Won’t she think that this outfit is a little unladylike Laura,” he said, “it is quite madly delicious and exciting, but it does .... well isn’t it a teeny weeny bit provocative?

Laura laughed. “You really have such a lot to learn Sophie. Being ladylike does not preclude being sexy, or provocative or even slutty in a ladylike way, as distinct from being so in just a slutty way. The skill is in not falling off the tightrope.”

So saying Laura leant forward to kiss him and as she did so, David felt the breast forms pressed firmly in place on his chest. “Stay still,” she whispered in his ear, “just for a moment.” And she kissed him again, her perfume washing over him, the softness of her lips velvet against his. There they stayed, close together for a long minute, two long minutes, her hands pressing the breast forms against him, moving gently to smooth the edges down, centring and reapplying pressure

Then she moved back, her hands lingering firm against his chest for another moment until they too were slowly removed. David felt a heavy drag on his chest and looking down was confronted by the most natural looking breasts growing, perking from his front, complete with exquisitely formed aureoles and tumescent nipples.

“Sophie! A girl couldn’t wish for sexier boobs! Mmmmmm. They really look so natural, Don’t you just love them? I am quite envious.”

David hid the sickness at his core. “They.... they are lovely Laura, just so lovely, words fail me. All a girl could want.”

Laura winked at him saucily. “Well not quite all Sophie dear, but hormones and implants aren’t part of the Holding Wing’s remit. Still they will do for the time being at least.”

David tried desperately to ignore the implication.

“One last surprise, one last present for the party girl.” Laura had turned away and now swung back holding an gossamer creation in ivory up to her. “By special request Your new baby doll nightie! As recommended by Grace de Messembry.”

“Oh don’t look so serious Sophie,” she said, “you must admit it is quite adorable. And it has got a front fastening underwired bra built in so that will help support your new titties at night time. And the all round chiffon petal skirt is the most adorable thing. Hardly there at all Sophie dear, literally hardly anything to object to. And such fun!”

Laura came close again. “Seriously Sophie it is a delight. And you did ask for it. And you did promise to enjoy it. Remember that above all. And when you think back on it, in time, I think even you will admit that Grace de Messembry was rather witty about it.”

“And,” she sniggered, “put your panties on before your quest for complete femininity suffers a further setback.”

David blushed. In spite of his embarrassment and his recent traumatic experience, her closeness was beginning to effect him.

“I must fly anyway,” she said, “I have to drop in on Anne and Emma, and also have to get prepared myself. The party is for all of us remember and I don’t see why I shouldn’t stand as good a chance with the nephews as the rest of you.”

She turned at the door. “You can manage can’t you Sophie dear? It is all there. Remember hold-ups. Oh and there is a little silk half slip for the dress. Otherwise the dress will cling so tight that it will have ridden up to your bra before you have downed your first sherry.”

“Remember it kicks off at eight o’clock, so I will drop in at half past seven just to help with any last minute preparations. In case you need help with the boots or whatever. Bye till then.”

Laura blew a kiss and slipped through the door.

David gazed at the froth of clothing strewn across his bed. He knew now that he was liable to be observed. Christ knew where the cameras were situated but effective they certainly were. He had to make a start!

The bustier proved somewhat difficult. More complicated than the bras he had worn so far, with all of eight back hoops and three different position fastenings. And of course there was the added complication that he now was the owner of breasts that jutted and swayed from his chest. Still finally he made it, dropping his new boobs into the padded, cotton lined cups. When he straightened up he felt relief from the weight tugging at his skin and he realised that from now on a bra, although still a symbol of shame, would be a welcome, necessary, companion. Then the matching briefs with his cock tightly held back between his legs, his balls tucked up inside. The hold-ups next; rolling them up his leg carefully, anxious not to snag at this stage. The promised elaborate lacy tops smoothed over his upper thighs. The half slip next, just a small, lace edged, silken tube, that slithered down to cover the lace tops of the hold-ups.

The dress was a work of art. A small work of art. David was not at all sure how to get into it. From the top? Or from the bottom? After considerable reflection he shrugged and wiggled up through it. Carefully over his head, and then his obtrusive new bust, smoothing down over his hips, reaching barely, and tightly to mid thigh. It fitted him like a skin. David could walk by grace of its elasticity only, but even so his stride was limited and a feminine hip sway was needed to progress in any meaningful way. The hooks at the back David gave up on, awaiting Laura’s return.

Finally the boots. The leather was supple and smooth. His hose clad toes slid into them sensuously and there was something quite explicitly sexual in the way the boots’ elasticity gave way to his feet and calves, encircling them, caressing them, enfolding them. He pulled up the small zips over the ankle slits and stood up. And sat down again as he nearly fell. The heels were higher than he had worn before, again limiting his stride, enforcing the lessons he had learnt, lending a feminine sexuality to his hip movements.

He practised walking back and forth, trying to remember his lessons. Trying to move with grace. Trying not to think. Trying to smile to give an outward semblance of pleasure, of delight in his new clothes. Trying to conceal the sick despair that formed a solid ball in the pit of his stomach. A sick despair made all the more gut wrenching by the knowledge that he really did look quite ravishingly pretty, sexy and attractive. And that he was accepting this, conniving at it; fulfilling all the ambitions that Grace de Messembry apparently had for him.

Then Laura’s now familiar knock, and as the door opened he turned to greet her. “Be a poppet and do me up at the back, please, Laura.”

And then an anxious “How do I look? Will I do?”

But Laura’s reaction made the question superfluous even as it was asked. Her delighted little cry of pleasure was followed by a torrent of compliments.

“Sophie darling, I knew it would great on you, but no idea just how good! You look quite stunning! Sexy, seductive and utterly feminine! I can’t wait for Helen to see you. She will be delighted!”

Laura took both David’s hands in hers and stood there smiling at him.

“You look quite adorably sexy. Surely even you can see that? Can take at least a little pleasure in it? All that remains is for us to just guild the lily a little.”

Already her skilful fingers were doing up the last of the hooks and eyes at the back of the dress, stretching it so that it moulded even more tightly to his enhanced body shape.

“Look inside that,” she said, delving inside her bag and producing a small white evening bag. David did as he was bid and discovered a cluster of jewellery which resolved itself into diamanté dangly earrings, a bracelet and a choker necklace to match. “Only costume of course but nothing like a bit of glitter to give a girl confidence.”

“The bag is for you too. A girl needs something to keep her ammunition in. Sit down a minute whilst we freshen your make up, and we can just drop in a few of the essentials that you will need to do a few running repairs during, the evening.”

She bent close as her hands fluttered around his face; he felt the lipstick cream his lips, a touch of blush here, mascara brushed lightly, eye shadow applied with a quick, sure, finger. It took a moment. With David it would have taken half an hour.

And then the voice spray.

With an adeptness born of experience she dropped articles in the white evening bag. Cosmetics, a perfume atomiser.

“And a hankie of course,” she said. “Oh and a girl must never go to a do like this without these. Men are so unreliable!”

With horror David saw the last comment referred to a couple of foil packets of condoms.

He nearly gagged . “Laura! Laura! You don’t expect .... I won’t have to .... Laura please No .... No.”

Her hand was firm on his shoulder now as he half rose. Her lips close to his ear. “Just for contingencies darling. I don’t expect for a moment Grace de Messembry would countenance any such behaviour from her guests. But a girl can’t be too careful, as you will find out, and better be safe than sorry.”

“But Laura. I can’t .. I can’t .. I am a m...” Laura’s hand was at his mouth, cutting off his words.

“A girl now darling. Remember. And eager to be one. And of course you can. There are more ways of skinning a cat etc. as I am sure you are well aware.”

The hand was removed from his mouth as Laura thoughtfully regarded the contents of the bag again.

“You really will have to learn to deal with these situations Sophie dear. In the meantime better get used to the idea of receiving rather than giving sperm. So much more satisfactory darling. All this propaganda about it being better to give than to receive is utter nonsense designed to make the males feel better, poor deluded dears.”

She smiled at him knowingly.

“Remember that you are a girl now sweetie, and that in matters sexual your role is from henceforth no longer that of a penetrator. but of a penetratee. No man looking at you now would consider you, and with both reason and enthusiasm, as anything other.”

Chapter 17.

“And hurry, we’re going to be late! I said we would meet the others there.”

She turned to go, David automatically following, feeling dazed so that he all but bumped into her as she stopped in front of the cheval glass.

She regarded herself critically therein and then made way for David, halting him in front of the mirror.

“No girl ever goes out without checking in the mirror sweetie. Just to check she hasn’t tucked her skirt into her knickers if nothing else! Not that there is much danger of that in your case.”

And then they were out into the corridor and hurrying to the main concourse and the steps to the roof garden. Ascending the stairs slowed David down. The act of lifting the leg, itself requiring some effort in the tight confines of the dress, slid the skirt, lubricated by the silken slip, alarmingly high up the thigh. His heels too complicated the action and it was thus that, when he finally emerged onto the roof garden, he had already fallen some way behind Laura. David saw that they were the last of the girls to arrive. Anne and Emma were already there at the bar, as were Janet Saggren and her brood. Laura sashayed towards them to be greeted by exclamations of delight and garlands of compliments, which multiplied at his own appearance.

Cheeks were pressed to cheeks, as kisses were exchanged with soft perfumed embraces. All thought David to be absolutely stunning. All were so happy for him. A schooner of the inevitable ‘Dry Fly’ was pressed into his hand. All assured him that he was such a dreamlike vision of beauty and style that he would not only completely win over Grace de Messembry but would, as a bonus, lead any young man, fortunate to see him, condemned to many a sleepless night on the hard pillow of unrequited desire.

The roof garden was transformed. Fairy lights had been hung around the walls and the glass panels; festooned in the wisteria, the crab apple and the ceanothus. David saw that the central patio space had been cleared to reveal a circular dance floor whilst each table sported small heaters to supplement what was already an unseasonably warm May evening. The bar in the centre of the summerhouse round which they were all clustered had now a barmaid. Sexy, with a cleavage that would stand as an example to all girls aspiring to the make a success in that particular profession were bosoms are held in such high esteem.

There was music from a diffuse, invisible source. Soft and romantic music setting the scene for the evening.

A clatter of feet, on the stairs, the murmur of conversation, and Grace de Messembry made her entrance, flanked by Helen Vanbrugh and trailed by a covey of young men.

The groups by the summerhouse turned, spread out to receive them. To pay due respect to the Head of the Venumar Foundation and her guests. Some at least to inspect, to welcome, the young men who accompanied her.

Grace de Messembry was herself a vision of understated sophistication. As always she dominated, not because of her position and power but through sheer personality and grace. Her greeting embraced them all. Her words were individual to each. Even when she was silent, one was acutely conscious of her presence. Acutely aware of her eyes upon one, and of that half smile that seemed to relate specifically to her thoughts about you.

Introductions were made. The young men were named. David heard ‘Sophie’ listed amongst the girls.

There was a certain excitement in the air. The presence of the male contingent contributed a sexual frisson that added sparkle to the eyes of girls normally as cloistered as nuns. Even David could feel it, even if the last thing he could do was to share it.

David identified with the men. He was one of them. His natural place was amongst them, dressed as they were, joining in their conversation, eyeing up the female talent, remarking on it, dissecting it, choosing amongst it, drinking beer or whisky.

They flirted politely with Helen, Laura and Janet who were in the immediate welcoming group. Even Grace de Messembry was offered compliments with an edge befitting her status as an unachievable, but highly desirable, being.

David knew that he belonged with them. That he was no different from them. That he too had the right to sparkle at Grace de Messembry, be a male to her female.

The bitterness of the knowledge that his present reality was so far removed from his inner, true, perceptions twisted his guts. His downcast eyes instead took in the other reality. The corset dress, enhanced by the swell of his breasts, was designed to seduced a male, as were the knee high boots high heeled to make his hips swivel invitingly. His carefully made up face and the femininity of his perfume, his carefully coiffured hair and arched eyebrows, gave the lie to all he knew to be true.

And he knew also, that others saw him that way. That those same young men would not accept him as one of them. He was on the female side of the divide. To all extent and purposes, a penetratee.

The core group at the bar was breaking up. The young men doubtless been told to circulate, or themselves wanting to explore the talent, David thought grimly. He turned to find safety in conversation with Anne and Emma. Emma was excited. Her blue grey eyes huge in her elfin face, Anne was less so, naturally so, David thought. But there was something in her face too, David wasn’t sure at first and then he realised it was curiosity. Anne had accepted her new role and was now curious; perhaps as to what her own reactions would be to a male approach, perhaps about the male approach itself. Either way David did not find it a reassuring pointer to his own future..

Laura joined them and introduced three men she had in tow: Richard, Ben and Nigel. All presentable, well spoken and behaved, on first acquaintance at least. The conversation was light, inconsequential. David was largely silent. So much so that Nigel began teasing him about being shy. Laura, leaning forward on the pretext of adjusting David’s necklace, whispered.

“Don’t blow it! Remember who you are now, who is watching and what is at stake. Participate! And for God’s sake enjoy!”

David tried . He was becoming aware with horror that couple preferences were starting to emerge .in the conversation. Emma was obviously reciprocating the attention of Ben, Richard seemed to be paying particular court to Anne, and Nigel was increasingly targeting him. From time to time one of the men would trek to the bar from a fresh round of drinks. They all now seemed to be drinking Pimms. To David came the belated realisation that in his misery he had been drinking without paying attention and greater prudence would have been wiser.

Aware of Laura’s watchful eye, David had already been led onto the dance floor and gyrated in as feminine a way as he could muster. The Pimms helped.

Then the mood and music changed to old smoochy numbers and music and couples slowly moved to the rhythm in each other’s arms.

“Come on gorgeous,” said Nigel pulled David to his feet.

“He must be mad.” thought David, “Can’t he tell? Doesn’t he realise?”

But if Nigel did realise, he obviously didn’t care and David found himself clasped in a close embrace shuffling with almost imperceptible progress around the floor.

Nigel’s left hand was massaging the top of David’s buttocks with a firm insistence that at the same time pressed their hips together. On his rear David could feel the hand tracing the outline of his panties through the thin dress material whilst he was ever more conscious of an ever hardening protuberance in Nigel’s groin that pressed into him and was indeed slowly ground against him as their bodies swayed to the music.

David looked around desperately for Laura, but she had left and was talking to Helen and Grace de Messembry at the bar. Now was not the time to assert his repugnance at Nigel’s amorous advances.

He forced his body to relax in his amorous partner’s arms, who taking this as an encouragement, moved his head to nestle in David’s hair and began to tell him what a sexy, gorgeous, utterly desirable creature he was. David limited himself to a sigh of what he hoped could be taken as non-committal contentment. If Nigel was really a nephew he must be careful what he told his aunt.

And then he was aware of teeth nibbling at his ear lobe and Nigel saying,

“I want you darling Sophie. I want to put my prick in your pussy and slowly fuck you.”

It was too much. Far too much. David lost it. He ground his stiletto boot heel onto Nigel’s foot, above his polished toecap and had the satisfaction of hearing him gasp as he doubled up in pain. For the first time he appreciated the design of his lovely white Italian leather boots. They were quite lethal.

Nigel sobbed, crouched over, nursing his injured foot, as Sophie strutted from the dance floor. Anger bubbled within him. Let them do their worst. There was always Olive’s escape route. An escape route that looked more and more desirable. More and more inevitable. They may have closed off the roof garden with panels but as Laura had remarked in an altogether different context ‘There were more ways of skinning a cat....’ Damn them all! It was an attractive option. No more hurt. No more humiliation. Just a welcoming dark nothing.

Bright flushes of indignation burned on his cheek bones as he swept back to the table, seething with with rage. Blind to his surroundings. Blind to any consequences. Finding comfort in the realisation that he held, and always would hold, the final trump card to which they had no answer. Damn Grace de Messembry.

He stalked imperiously back to the table. Still unfocused he felt for the chair and sat down. As the red mist thinned. he became aware that Helen Vanbrugh was seated opposite him. Waiting for him. Smiling at him. She must have seen, but her smile was warm and approving.

“Grace de Messembry would like a word,” she said. “I came to fetch you. Laura and I have both spoken to her. And now she wants to see you.”

David looked at her. “You saw.” He said resignedly. “Just now. She must have too. After that it is just a waste of time I guess.”

David saw that Nigel had dragged himself to a neighbouring table and was sitting there, hunched, massaging his foot.

“I hope I have broken all the bones in the bastard’s foot.”

Helen looked at him, still smiling. “Don’t be so judgemental,” she said, “you yourself might, once, have behaved as he did. Hopefully with more finesse maybe. But .... ,” she shrugged, “ ....it is irrelevant. Grace de Messembry wants to see you now and poor Nigel’s misfortune fades into insignificance against the crime of keeping her waiting.”

Helen turned and set of in the direction of the summer house. “Remember the walk,” she added.

David found himself following her. Found himself remembering the walk, although in truth in his present garb it was the easiest way to progress. Found himself worrying about his appearance and whether it would find favour. Ruing also his precipitate action on the dance floor. If only he had curbed his instincts for another couple of minutes. If only he had seen Helen Vanbrugh sitting there.

And then he was in front of her. No sign of Laura but with some relief he saw that Helen was intending to stay.

“Sophie dear!” Grace de Messembry purred. “What a gorgeous creature you are turning into. Really you surprise even me! Although I am sure some credit at least for the outfit belong to Helen and Laura. But even so dear, you do look absolutely fantastic! So encouraging! I am sure that you will draw great comfort and confidence from it.”

“Turn round for us dear. Slowly now.”

David did as he was bid and Grace de Messembry sighed. “Such potential! I knew as soon as I saw you and I am never wrong. So much to do of course, just basic raw material at the moment but you will be worth the effort in the long run.”

She patted David on the cheek. “Don’t worry about a thing Sophie dear. You are in the very best hands. Leave the mechanics to us and just concentrate on nurturing your innermost femininity until it is second nature. Not to mention first and third nature.”

She looked at him seriously. “I understand from Helen and Laura that you do have some concerns though about the little physical aide-memoire that we discussed earlier today. Is this so dear?”

“Yes Miss de Messembry, I would rather that ....” David sought in vain for the argument he had prepared. Standing there before Grace de Messembry the words faded. Half of his mind was still in turmoil over the scene with Nigel and its possible repercussions.

But Grace de Messembry had already taken up on his first hesitant thought.

“I am not at all sure Sophie dear whether your desires, what you would rather do, should be our guiding star. My experience of girls in your situation is that, left to their own devices they tend to take the easy option neglecting the longer view. Young budding girls do need wiser heads to counsel them. Don’t you think so Sophie dear?”

A sick feeling that was becoming all too familiar washed over David.

“Yes Miss de Messembry, and I did seek advice from Laura, and she spoke to Helen, and I did promise .... and I, we that is, thought that you would see benefit in my whole hearted commitment to femininity and...”

Grace de Messembry cut across him. “Your whole hearted commitment to femininity I take for granted Sophie dear. I can assure you that you would not be here now, looking so entrancing, and enjoying this delightful party, if I doubted it for one moment.”

She shook her head slightly, a half smile on her lips. Toying with him.

“Indeed Helen and Laura have already spoken to me about you. Such good friends you have! They were quite eloquent on your behalf. Apparently they feel that any surgical intervention such as we discussed earlier, whilst bringing undoubted benefits, might equally distract you from the pursuit of that deep inner girlishness which they are convinced is more and more your steadfast ambition.”

Grace de Messembry regarded him quizzically, the half smile still there.

“Their argument is that the last thing you need is a reminder of your vestigial masculinity. The inevitable, albeit temporary and trivial, soreness would draw attention to your erstwhile state and perhaps awaken a lingering affection for the past to the detriment of your concentration on your desired future. At best it would prove a distraction, and distractions are the last thing you need at the moment with so much to think about. What do you think Sophie dear? Do they have a valid point?”

An elegant, interrogative, left eyebrow arched slightly further.

“Yes Miss de Messembry. I don’t want any distractions. Just to concentrate on my journey. To fully take advantage of all that I can learn here. I really do want to become a good girl, a credit to all my mentors, to these opportunities, to this place.”

The prepared phrases came back. They sounded false, insincere, but they were all he had.

“Mmmmmmm. Maybe they are right.”

A full smile now, all embracing.

“Well let’s give it a trial shall we. Nothing lost in giving it a trial. I am not fully convinced as I think you would find the little surgical intervention a great help, but we can always revert back to it if at a later date we feel it can be a benefit, can’t we?”

Her hand made a small dismissive gesture to indicate that the problem was resolved

“Yes let’s do that, shall we dear Sophie? We’ll review it at the next inspection. In a fortnight’s time. Do remind me won’t you dear?”

Grace de Messembry turned and gestured to Helen Vanbrugh to join them.

“Helen, I have just told dear Sophie that I will go along with your idea about letting nature take its course in Sophie progress. But to be reviewed at the next inspection.”

She raised her glass and took a contemplative sip.

“I do find it quite fascinating, don’t you? A girl’s progress, her development. The learning curve must seem so very steep I know, but such satisfaction as each milestone is reached and passed! Each mountain of achievement conquered and retrospectively realised to be the molehill that in reality it is. I can’t help thinking how privileged dear Sophie is as she embarks upon the great adventure of exploring and coming to terms with her inner feminine identity. So very rewarding!”

Helen smiled at David. “I am so pleased for you Sophie, that you have this chance to prove your commitment,” she said. “I am sure that you will not betray our trust in you, and that you will fully live up to Grace de Messembry’s expectations for you. I know Laura will be equally pleased. We shall all do our utmost to help you.”

“I shall do my best Miss Vanbrugh. My thanks to you for your help, And of course my thanks to you Miss de Messembry for your understanding and your concern.”

David hesitated, thinking that the interview was perhaps over, waiting for his dismissal. Not wanting to stay in her intimidating presence longer than was necessary lest she change her mind, or thought up other hurdles, other hoops, for him to leap through.

“No don’t go yet Sophie dear. Helen and I would like to enjoy your company a little longer.”

Grace de Messembry smiled at Helen. “These young ones, all they can think about is getting back to the boys and where the action is. Still I suppose that when you look as dishy as Sophie does tonight you don’t want to waste it upon a couple of older women!”

“Mind you,” she mused, “one at least of the young men seems to be rather less than spry at the moment.

There was no need for her to be specific. Whilst all the others were on the dance floor, Nigel still sat hunched by himself at one of the tables, nursing his foot.

“Your late partner I believe Sophie dear? The poor darling must have really upset you?”

David’s heart sank. Grace de Messembry had been playing with him.

She continued, seemingly oblivious to his fear.

“I won’t ask you what he said, or did, Sophie dear. Obviously something to provoke you though. Young men nowadays. Such fools.!”

She tut tutted

“No sense of finesse! For that alone he deserves it dear. Although in my younger days a good hard slap was considered a sufficient warning signal when the bounds of impropriety were in danger of being breached. A stiletto on the foot does seem a mite drastic for a first offence. But you are of course new to the situation and have plenty of time to learn. As poor Nigel has doubtless done. Progress for both of you.”

Helen intervened. “I think Sophie was worried that you might be vexed with her for being rude to one of your guests Grace,” she said.

Both eyebrows arched high this time as Grace de Messembry looked at David in mock astonishment.

“Sophie dear! How could such a thought ever cross your mind? A girl has to stick up for herself. Men are after all disposable. Like paper hankies. Some of them have uses in the more menial aspects of life, lifting, carrying, that sort of thing; and a few, a very few, have skills which may bring a girl pleasure, but they are all disposable. Lots of them readily available and can be discarded without a second thought when their task is done, or when they prove unsatisfactory, or indeed just superfluous.”

She looked at Sophie with what could have been a twinkle in her eye.

“You must realise Sophie dear, that I take a special interest in all my girls and would certainly back them against any male. Additionally, if one was so mean spirited as to let commercial considerations enter into the equation, you are the beneficiary of an considerable amount of time and money. Whilst they are cheap! Disposable as I said. And I am encouraged to think that at least you have imbibed enough feminine know-how to appreciate the effect of a well aimed heel. Or was it just in the interest of research dear?”

She turned to Helen indicating with her drinkless hand a rather small man who was dancing with Mona. “What I wanted to ask you was your opinion of that one over there.”

The man in question was slight and Mona in heels topped him by a good three inches.

“He’s called Tommy, I brought him along specially for you to see,” she said. “I came across him the other day at a charity do. Parents dead, but well brought up and educated. Age 19. What do you think?”

Helen made a little moue of uncertainty. “Bit coarse featured and look at that adam’s apple.”

“Mmmmm. That isn’t too difficult to fix and the features can be refined. But at a cost admittedly. Mind you the data on that would be useful. And we do now have to expand the research criteria to re-establish the parameters of possibility.”

Helen considered. “He’s not in Sophie’s league of course. Doesn’t even approach it. It all depends on how you envisage future development.”

“Well we don’t always have to produce starlets. Not all girls can aspire to beauty, although a good beautician can work wonders. Lots of quite plain, even ugly ones, make good matches.”

David listened avidly, hardly able to believe his ears. Where they really considering ... what he thought they were considering?”

Grace de Messembry turned to him.

“What do you think Sophie dear? As a new but committed recruit to femininity we would value your opinion. Do you think that Tommy would be happier as a female? If you were he, would you relish the opportunity? Above all do you think he has the potential, the qualities to merit our interest? ”

David took a deep breathe. His breasts pulled at the skin of his chest. He took the easy, the coward’s, way out.

“Miss de Messembry, I know from my own experience that if you decide that femininity is his, Tommy’s, destiny, then he will make the most delightful and attractive girl. And .... and be most grateful to you for it.”

His reward was a smile. “Awww your becoming such a sweet thing Sophie dear. So compliant.”

And then to Helen. “Ask the research people to look more closely at it. Go into his background. Get his medical history. Put him in the ‘Future Possible' category if it all else fulfills the criteria. Usual routine.”

She turned back to David.

“But we have kept you too long from your friends Sophie dear. Poor darling having to listen to all this boring business chat when you must be dying to get back to the party and all the young men. Run along now poppet. So enjoyed our little talk. I will be speaking to Laura about it. In the meantime go and enjoy what is left of the evening.”

Grace de Messembry’s smile was open, frank, one girl to another.

“Just try not to cripple any of the remaining males. So unfair on any of your girl friends who might want to dance or .... whatever .... with them. If they really do become insupportable try a good slap or empty a tumbler of Pimms over their heads, that usually cools their ardour. Not that one can really blame them. You really do look good enough to eat.”

Helen Vanbrugh winked at him. “I’ll see you later Sophie,” she said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. Glad it turned out as you wanted.”

David strutted away, his feet and calves held in the boots his thighs constricted by the tight skirt. His hips, although boyish, swaying in a truly feminine way. And the thoughts nagged at him. The immediate relief he had felt of hearing Grace de Messembry remove the threat of mutilation, of it having ‘turned out as he had wanted’, increasingly tempered by the knowledge that he had paid a heavy price and that the threat had in fact merely been deferred.

Zugzwang was the word Laura had used. An ugly, hope destroying, word. Above all as he did not want any of it. It was all a complete anathema to him. And now he had to dissemble. Constantly play the role assigned to him knowing that such immersion would eventually blur the distinction between play and reality.

The rest of the evening passed as if seen from a distance by a third party. Unreal. Separated from him by a glass panel through which the sound drifted clear but thin. He danced with the men when they asked him, although he noticed that he was rather less in demand than the other girls were. What had happened to Nigel had, unsurprisingly, been a deterrent to all but the insatiably curious or foolhardy. None certainly tried to replicate his advances. Nigel himself had left. Still badly limping so that he had to be helped away. By someone in a peaked cap. Grace de Messembry’s chauffeur it was said.

At one stage David found himself dancing with Tommy. He found himself dispassionately examining him. Helen was right. He had a rather prominent adam’s apple, certainly compared to David’s which was practically non existent. And although of slight build and if anything even shorter than David, his features were certainly heavier. He had slightly curly hair and good grey eyes, and a ready smile. David liked him and the thought crossed his mind that in other circumstances they would probably be good friends.

He treated David with courtesy, was amusing, and for once David felt a pang of regret when the dance was over. And then self disgust seized him as he remembered Grace de Messembry seeking his opinion and how cowardly he had been in his response. Not that it mattered.. His was not the crucial voice. Grace de Messembry had only asked him to test him out, to twist the knife a little. But deep down he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that, in those same circumstances, if his had been the deciding vote, he would have done exactly the same and slavishly condemned this pleasant, harmless, young man.

At last the party broke up. Grace de Messembry left first. Then Helen Vanbrugh gathered up the remaining men and shepherded them out. Back to the normality of life elsewhere.

The girls remained chatting over black coffee. The night chill now but the table heaters cast little pools of heat over them. Laura and Janet Saggren sat apart chatting together. Anne, Emma, and David at another table; the remaining girls at a third. All quietly comparing notes on the evening’s excitements.

Emma had had a lovely time. Ben had been discarded fairly early on and she had found a soul mate in someone called Michael. “Such a good dancer, and sexy and handsome, and all that a girl could want,” she enthused, and hoped fervently that she would be able to see him again. Anne was quieter but seemed happy and she too had enjoyed herself it seemed, acceptance leading to contentment in her destined persona.

They were both full of David’s treatment of Nigel. The other boys, they declared, had had little sympathy for him and indeed held David in an esteem that had reflected on all the girls. “Really kept them in their place and on their best behaviour.” Emma confided, with a giggle. They listened with delight to David’s account of it, and of Grace de Messembry’s reaction.

And then. “We didn’t like to ask darling Sophie, in case ...”, said Anne, “but we really have been worried. Just chattering on about nothing to fill in the gap. We do care so very much. What did Grace de Messembry say about ... well about your proposition? Did she accept?”

“Yes.” said David simply. No point now, nor ever, in going into his own mental turmoil. Anyway he couldn’t. It was part of the trade.

With cries of genuine delight the two girls threw themselves at David. Kisses were exchanged.

“Told you so.”said Emma. “I know about these things. I can read Grace de Messembry like a book.”

“Yes” said David. “Dear Emma I do believe you can.” Their pleasure was infectious and, perhaps for the first time, David felt that the evening had been a success.

“And you too Anne,” he said. “I owe so much to you both. Without your support I do not think I could have managed.”

And that at least was true he realised. Amidst all the lies and evasions. Whatever trials and tribulations he had suffered, life would have been far, far worse without their caring support and kindness.

“I love you both to bits” David said.

And so, in the atmosphere of some sort of peace, an ambience where at least he felt himself amongst friends, he told them all that had happened during his talk with Grace de Messembry and Helen.

Including the passage regarding Tommy, but glossing over his own endorsement of his suitability.

“Mmmmm.” said Emma, “I danced with him several times and he was quite dishy. I quite fancied him actually and if it hadn’t been for Michael .... well ...” She blushed prettily. “But they are quite right, with a bit of work he might make a passable girl. They can do such wonders!”

David flinched.

“Oh so sorry darling Sophie! And Anne! What have I said? How appallingly tactless of me. Oh do both say you forgive me? You both are such utterly delightful feminine girls that I don’t think of you as .... as .... well as anything other. Which of course you aren’t. Not now.”

Emma shook her head. “So very, very stupid of me!”

David smiled at her as the inner knife twisted again. Anne rose and went to kiss her. “Sweet, delicious Emma, don’t fret so. It is the highest compliment you can pay us. To be accepted, without thought, as all girls together.”

“Yes.” said David.

The slightly embarrassed silence that followed was broken by Anne.

“There is something else isn’t there Sophie?”

David sighed. This at last he could share.

“It made me wonder again. The things they said when discussing Tommy. Why? Why am I here? For what reason? Why spend all this money on us, on Anne and I. There are enough girls around surely in the natural order of things?”

“With you Emma it is of course different. But I was recruited and, and I don’t know why.”

Emma looked at them both in astonishment. “But it is so obvious darlings. Anybody can see it. Not the big why of course. Not the why as in ‘what is it all about?’ But why Sophie, or indeed why Anne, is so simple. You should have asked me before. Nothing to do with me but really so obvious darlings.”

Emma looked at them smiling her eyes bright. “Your boots Sophie! Those elegant, so sexy, white, Italian, leather, boots. That is why! What is the one thing that allows you to wear such beautiful feminine boots Sophie?”

David looked at her bewildered.

“Darling girl. Its your bone structure. And most importantly the size of your hands and feet. The one thing that cannot be altered. So small boned and delicate for a man. As Tommy’s are too, in spite of his heavier facial features. Don’t say you didn’t notice?”

Anne nodded. “I think Emma is right Sophie. I have been stupidly slow in coming to the same conclusion. It is the only thing that makes sense. And Tommy confirms it.”

“Of course I am right you goose. You, and Sophie, Olive as well, And look at Mona! She is exquisitely boned. A delicate as a nymph.”

Emma shook her head at Sophie. “You don’t mean to say that you have been wasting your time agonising over a simple straightforward thing like that? Why didn’t you ask me before? It is so obvious! You are so very lucky! Otherwise you would never, could never, have blossomed into the lovely girls that you are!”

David shook his head. “I thought it was me, That is to say that I had been chosen for something I had done, or said or .... that I had been selected for some individual quality or reason. But in reality ....”

Anne took up the thread. “In reality we, that is the new girls, are here because we have been trawled in according to predetermined physical characteristics. Whether 'selected', or ‘saved’, or 'sponsored', the defining crucial factor has been our shoe size, our bone definition. Nothing else matters.”

“Not quite nothing else.” said Emma. “ I’ll bet that none of you have parents, family or friend that will miss you. And that you were unemployed or in casual work where a company would not make enquiries if you disappeared.”

“It makes sense,” said Anne. “The Venumar Foundation would not be interested in individuals. It wants girls that need as little modification as possible. No point in making the transformation a costly process.”

“Whatever the reason,” Emma said, “It’s not worth bothering about. You are so lucky. And I am too,” she smiled at them, “to have found in you such delightful girls as friends.” She impulsively stood up and rushed to kiss them both.

David looked down into the pit that yawned at his feet. He was just a number. A statistic. A guinea pig?

But we still don’t know why they are doing it,” he mused half to himself. “And how it ties in with Mona’s bare branches, if indeed it does. And if there is an end? And what that end may be?”

“So serious darling Sophie dear!” said Emma. “Just enjoy the moment. You are looking absolutely fantastic. As a girl you are the tops! You are amongst friends relaxing, pleasantly squiffy, after a very successful party. You showed the men that uncouth behaviour ne’er won fair lady. You succeeded in getting what you wanted from She Who Must Be Obeyed. What more could a girl want?”

“Apart from someone like Michael,” she added, growing all dreamy eyed.

Kudos

Comments

love-bombing

This story is one of the best brainwashing stories I have seen on these sites. It is very realistic. The softening up process in Reception is evidentally quite similar to the sort of thing the British did with captured IRA suspects and possibly to some of what the US is doing at Guantanamo Bay to captured terrorists.
But it is the treatment in the holding area that really shines. The sort of "love-bombing" that Laura give Sophie is very close to how the Moonies (Unification Church) brings in new recruits. In that way, it is very true to life. It is also quite hard to resist.
Yes, Fleurie, you do an excellent job of describing the orchestrated deception of choice.

this story is a first for me!

Never before have I read a forced-fem story and found myself rooting with the victim to escape the clutches of the evil feminizer, but such is the case here. As I read parts 5 & 6, I was absolutely beside myself with anst for David's ability to continue to resist the brainwashing/feminization process; like others, I found myself wishing in the (second) interview with Grace that David would attack her with a steak knife or broken wine bottle and reduce her haughty authority to pleading for her life. Or that he would expose Laura's sympathetic support for the manipulation it appears to be. What kind of story can have this effect on a usually detached reader like myself? What magic is being spun by the author? Whatever it is, please continue - I HAVE to know what Venumar's master plan is - I'm addicted!

Oh, oh ...

... David. I think David's decision is a mistake. He should have taken physical modification over voluntarilly accepting brainwashing. His mind is what makes him who he is. If he ends up physically female, so what, as long as he maintains his mental integrity and gets the bitches in the end? As it is, it seems he's on his way to either suicide or being a happy little girly girl - and then they'll just do the surgery because "she" asks for it.

"All the world really is a stage, darlings, so strut your stuff, have fun, and give the public a good show!" Miss Jezzi Belle at the end of each show

BE a lady!

Thanks to MKAT, David and Jezzi

I am so pleased that you are enjoying DofC. I do apologise for not replying earlier but life has been more than hectic these last couple of months and writing has had to take a back seat, as has the reading of comments!

I am glad you find it realistic. I don't think suspense can work otherwise. I am particularly pleased that David is intrigued by The Venumar Foundation's master plan. No one has menntioned it before but for me the 'Why' is the very core in that it gives the raison d'etre, the vital credibility, to the tale. I live in mortal fear that someone will follow up the clues and arrive at the truth before I can bring some sort of conclusion to the story. Perhaps they have and are too sporting to divulge it. It would all fall flat if they did.

Dear Jezzi, I sympathise with your views on the wisdom of the decision taken by David. I too was intrigued by what David would do. The whole point of course is that it must be contrived to be as knife edged, no pun intended, as possible. The six must balance the half dozen. But do not give up on David quite yet. He is of sterner, stubborner stuff than some may think. Anyway he is not really within my control, I tend just to record as the story runs itself. That is how I write. I set out guidelines and watch characters react. I do have the benefit of some higher ground but that is all.

Oh and I do know the answer to the all important 'Why'. :) The characters have just got to arrive there under their own steam. In whatever form and/or condition is not at this stage engraved in stone.

Remember too that we are still only in the Holding Wing.

Anyway thanks to you all for your timely encouragement. I do feel guilty about lack of progress lately but will try to mend my ways.

Thanks Again,

fleurie

Fleurie

The Deception of Choice -Part 6-

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love-bombing

this story is a first for me!

Oh, oh ...

Thanks to MKAT, David and Jezzi

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