Author's Note: Wow. Thank you for the incredible response. Despite some of you having your reservations about the story and its characters, you have taken the time to post your comments. And the comments were so insightful and detailed. I am really blown away. I now have a much better idea what might be bothering people about the story. I had no idea that it would impact people in such a way, triggering them, returning them to traumatic events. I didn’t think of the transformed adults as real children, but those who have experienced something similar are likely reliving it.

You are completely right about Ryan. He is deplorable, sexist and ignorant, and an awful human being, but he is also human. I get that you can’t relate to him, but I have always been fascinated with failed human beings, delving into what made them that way. Ryan is obviously intimidated by girls like Jessica and Ashley because he lacks confidence. He goes after the vulnerable girls because they are easier to get into bed but also because he thinks they are the only girl he can get. This story is about rebuilding a human being from the ground up, second chances and personal growth. Will Ryan continue to frustrate readers? Yes, absolutely. But that is his character. This is who he has become, and it will take time (this is a novel after all, not nearly as lengthy as the Sidereus Prophecy but still a book) to see him become someone else.

And finally, for those concerned for how bleak the story seems, it does lighten considerably. It is still mature in tone, and it will be grounded in realism, but it won’t be quite so creepy. I hope you will continue to read and comment, but most of all- enjoy!

If you would like to contact me, you can do so at [email protected]

Chapter 10

My first instinct was to hide underneath the covers and remain there. Ashley’s absence was potentially disastrous because like the night light, she was the anchor that kept me from drifting toward surrender. It would be so easy to accept my fate, to accept being Kaylee- the same way I left everything else, the restaurant, acting, Hannah- it was easier than having to deal with any of the emotions that went along with it.

As Musica prattled on, urging me to get out of bed, my mind waffled back and forth between submission and outright defiance. A part of me desperately wanted to prove that Dr. Travers’ serum was a failure, that Ryan Sullivan would never become weak-willed, timid Kaylee. When he saw the defiance in me, the failure of his masterwork, would he show emotion? Would his face sag, his shoulders slump in defeat? I vacillated between the two mindsets, as Ashley’s voice played in an endless loop. “You aren’t a failure. Because you haven’t ever even tried.”

To Ashley, trying meant actually dealing with the breadth of emotions that accompanied difficult choices. I managed to pull myself from the warm embrace of my covers, quickly tearing them off and depositing my socked feet on the floor. I poured myself a bowl of cereal, and then visited the washroom. By the time I was finished, the superstar makeover closet had moved, again revealing the exit to this room, but only to the rest of what was an elaborate prison.

I wasn’t sure that Ms. Daniels could be trusted. Would she really allow me to keep my memories if I continued to play Kaylee on the show? She had earlier teased by telling us that we could be stars beyond the Hermie show, but that was before we learned the exact details of their insane plot. I went over different options in my head, one of which involved returning to my phone trying to find a signal and calling the police.

Maybe they could force Dr. Travers to undo the changes, to flick off the supposed switch that had sent me spiralling into prepubescent femininity. That, however, would require me to brave the dark again. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t afraid of the dark- that nothing in there could hurt me. There were no beasts, creatures wanting to rend me limb from limb, just filing cabinets, tables, chairs and my phone.

I went through the motions as Kaylee that day, simply playing my part. All of the scenes with Ashley were put on hold, but there were plenty with just Kaylee and Hermie. While Hermie played his part, I noticed a distinct sadness in his voice. I also noticed plenty of chatter in his head. There were two separate voices, but the thick rubber head piece muffled the words. It was as if two people were having a conversation with their hands over their mouths. Still, despite this, filming continued.

Two days later, Ashley still hadn’t returned, and I still hadn’t managed to find the courage to return to the storage room. I realized how instrumental Ashley had been in prodding me to explore. The only saving grace was the fact that I didn’t need the night light to sleep, but only barely.

“You’re fucking dead, man! I got you around the corner. You aren’t playing fair.”

It was day three without Ashley, and I was sitting quietly in the cafeteria. Devon and Mark had burst into the room, wielding plastic guns that looked surprisingly real. The only obvious difference between the AR-15s they carried and the real kind was a small piece of orange plastic at the mouth of the gun.

Mark shouted, “I got my wall up! I get three of them, remember?”

Devon shook his head, “That’s fucking cheap! No way. I didn’t agree to walls. I got you. I’m not playing with you if you fuck around like that.”

I continued to sit quietly, observing the two boys as they argued over the trivialities of their game. Mark, seemingly realizing he couldn’t win with Devon, turned his attention to me, “Hey Sullivan, I thought we agreed you’d always take the pink cup.”

I glared at him and said, “I got here first. Look guys, I think we need to talk about this. You guys are acting more and more like kids. Maybe you need to do what Ashley and me were doing. Every night we’d talk about who we actually are. You know, to preserve our real selves.”

Mark snatched the blue cup in front of me and deposited the lone pink cup in its place. “You are sounding more and more like that bitch Ashley. And we aren’t about to have some pussy girl talk session. I know who I am. We are just making the most of a shitty situation.”

I shook my head, “But you guys haven’t done anything except really petty stuff. Like unplug cameras or whatever.”

Devon shouted petulantly, “And what have you done exactly, Sullivan? You seem to be going along with this just like we are. And we’ve fought a lot. You just haven’t seen it. We’re just getting out our stress, you know? It’s not a big deal. Same as the video games back in the room.”

Mark said, “If you quit being such a whiny bitch about everything maybe we’ll invite you back to play. Me and Devon are halfway through the original Resident Evil. I mean we would be way further along if this asshole didn’t break our one controller.”

Devon said angrily, “It was my turn. You’d been playing for hours.”

I said unsteadily, “Guys, look- I know this is going to sound like pussy talk. But you should probably stop playing that game so much. And ...”

I was interrupted by twin ‘blasts’ from the AR-15s. Despite the fact that the AR-15 was an assault rifle and not a shotgun, the boys still made obnoxious explosion sounds. Mark said, “Oh look Sullivan, your pretty head is all blown up. Guess you can’t say anything right?”

I knew that Devon, and particularly Mark, were immature, but their level of immaturity was shocking. They seemed to care way more about having fun than actually escaping. I wasn’t sure I could trust them either, so I hadn’t told them what transpired with Ms. Daniels and Dr. Travers. Still, without Ashley, I would need their help.

I said, “Hey, don’t you care about anything other than having fun? Is that what you guys are doing between takes?” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Listen guys, I’ve got an access key. I found our phones, and if I get more time, I might be able to find a way out of here, or at least a signal to call the police.”

Mark’s eyes widened in surprise, while a cruel smirk formed, “So why haven’t you done it yet? Cause you’re fucking scared. That’s why. You should give it to us.”

Devon nodded, “Yeah. Where are you hiding it? And how long have you had it? And why the fuck didn’t you tell us about it before? You don’t trust us, Sullivan?”

I shook my head rapidly, feeling immediately pressured to divulge everything. “It’s not like that. I just wanted to make sure I had something before I told you guys. Like a way out of here or at least access to the phones. They are in the room behind us.”

The boys converged on me like hunters on a frightened deer, but I had no trees to provide cover, no deep forest to escape to- no, I was trapped. Mark said, “You know more, Sullivan. Tell us everything you fucking know. Everything.”

Against my better judgment (which wasn’t particularly sound to begin with), I told them everything, from the original plot to the final stage- the specialized adoption agency.

Devon said, “So if I’m getting this right, they’re gonna erase our memories, and when they are done, they’re going to sell us to some rich people. No fucking way.”

I said, “I think that’s why they took Ashley. They are probably doing some experiment on her.”

Mark said, “OK, Sullivan, here’s what we do. We take your card, we get our phones, and we get the fuck out of here.” Incredibly, all mention of their previous game or the video game waiting for them was gone. The boys looked incredibly focused.

I frowned, “What about Ashley? I’m not leaving her here.”

Mark replied, “Forget about that bitch, Sullivan. It’s just us guys now. Now where’s that card?”

Mark looked at me eagerly, the same way our old basset hound Duke used to eye a thick, juicy steak. My mom hated that dog, but she didn’t understand what made Duke so great, whether it was his constant slobbering, the way he would knock over little kids or how he would pee when he got too excited. Either way, he was the perfect dog for a kid who had to move constantly, fiercely loyal and a great playmate. When he died, it was one of the only times I ever remember seeing my dad cry.

He didn’t even cry at his dad’s funeral or his mom’s.

I replied, “And what exactly are we going to do out there looking like this? What if we end up in an orphanage or something? I mean I can’t exactly go home to my mom. I guess I’ve got some friends I could go to though.”

Devon nodded, “I kind of agree with Ryan in a way. I mean if we tell somebody what happened to us, how do we know they aren’t gonna make us into a science experiment or something like that? Or yeah, there’s a chance they don’t believe us and they put us in an orphanage. And that means we are surrounded by kids our age. We’ll regress. You know- really start thinking like kids. Yeah we’ll have our memories still, but they won’t be worth shit if we’re these stupid kids.”

I couldn’t help but notice earlier the level of immaturity both of were showing. I knew they were assholes, and while they would probably have made great drinking buddies or wingmen, they were lousy people to plan an intricate escape with because I couldn’t trust them, especially Mark.

Mark said, “What if they are coming for us right now to take us down to the laboratory with Ashley? Here we’ve got a chance to escape, and Sullivan is acting like a fucking pussy. Little shit has had the card for like a week, and he’s done fuck-all with it. I would have been out of here in a second.”

Devon shook his head and pointed to the vent, “It looks pretty dark there, man. You think you can get in there without pissing your pants?”

Mark shook his head, “I’ll fucking kill you if you tell anyone.”

Devon grinned, his eyes showing clear intent for boyish mayhem, “Sure, I won’t tell Sullivan that you needed the night light. Two nights in a row.”

Mark shouted, “I kept hearing these fucked up sounds. Like this constant scraping metal against metal. And the sink was dripping. It reminded me of something. I’m not using it tonight. No fucking way.”

The grin never left Devon’s face, “Sure, man. Well I didn’t hear nothing. So what is it, your imagination or something? Fuck, man- you are losing it.”

Mark said, “Oh yeah? Am I losing it the same way you are with your crying? You’re more of a chick than Sullivan here.”

Devon reached out an accusatory finger, pointed squarely at Mark, and exclaimed, “It hurt like hell when you hit me in the jaw when we were playing football. And I saw you crying after Daniels pulled you by the ear when she found out you were pulling the cables.”

As I watched the exchange, I realized something. Both of these supposed men were acting like children.

Mark quickly snapped out of his prepubescent stupor. ‘OK, Sullivan. Time to lead us out of here. Now you are going in that vent, or we are taking that card from you, and leaving you here to play science experiment with Travers.”

Despite the threat, I agreed with Mark. It was time to show my bravery and lead the others to their phones, and potentially, to their escape. We couldn’t help Ashley, but we could call someone who could. I figured that if we crawled around in the vents long enough, we would find a room with at least one window, which might get us a signal, and our salvation.

I nodded and got up from the table, leading the boys through the storage room grate. With others the darkness was powerless to stop my progression, and while I didn’t particularly like Devon and Mark, their presence dispersed the monsters that attempted to jump from my now boundless imagination into reality.

I retrieved my phone, while Mark and Devon did the same. I knew that it was useless to turn it on immediately, as the lack of signal would kill what little battery I had left. Mark and Devon stayed close together, even as Devon tried to pull closer to me as we entered the next vent, Mark increased his pace to match Devon’s.

The room where Travers and Daniels had unknowingly revealed their plan yielded nothing except for a bunch of computers and a set of whiteboards covered with incomprehensible calculations. I knew enough from high school biology to recognize DNA strands. I pulled my charger out, plugged it in a nearby power socket and quickly took pictures of the whiteboards.

The other two remained silent as my phone rapidly captured the contents of the whiteboards. I thought I caught a hint of a smile on Devon’s face. I was lucky to stumble across the power bar as I was searching near the computer, but the near pitch black room made it difficult to see anything, let alone an expression.

Devon managed to find another vent, and he took the lead, with Mark still following him like a lost puppy dog. Emergency flood lights erased the dark as we exited into a corridor much like the one that led to my formerly shared bedroom.

Devon said, “Sullivan, give me your key.”

I handed it over without issue, and while I was momentarily shocked how quickly I had given up my only advantage, I had little time to process it- Devon had managed to open a set of doors at the end of the corridor.

The doors flung open, but as they did, the light died, bathing us in less than comforting darkness. Seconds later, I heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. It sounded like someone dragging a massive butcher knife across metal floor grates. At least that is the image my mind created.

I shone my phone at the floor. Beneath my dainty feet lay row upon row of metal floor gratings. My heart lurched in my chest feeling like a live grenade, threatening to explode outward. The scraping sound grew closer. On top of this, I could a faint dripping, the steady tink-tink-tink of a leaky faucet draining into a metal basin.

Devon shouted, “Fuck, Mark! Stay together!”

I heard footsteps, and I felt around for Devon, but both of them were gone. It was at this point, I simply started running, headlong into the dark. Every step caused a clanging underneath, which seemed to echo incessantly in my ears. My heart continued to leap in my chest, as I felt not only the vulnerability of my small form, but a return to a primal and uncontrollable fear.

I plunged through yet another set of doors into what had become eternal darkness. Petrified, I flicked on my phone, casting a dull yet heavenly glow. The power saver mode wouldn’t allow much light, but it was enough to carefully make my way through the room. It looked like a lighting storage and repair area, with dozens of studio lights piled against the wall.

I exited into another room, and by this point, the scraping sound was distant, and I couldn’t even hear the leaky faucet. The door opened to a familiar sight, but it was the one sliver of sanity in this madhouse. I was in the room where I was first interviewed for the Hermie the Hippo show. The emergency power flood lights were back, so I was able to see the Hermie posters lining the wall, and the cameras. Shit. I quickly flung myself against the wall, back into the shadows untouched by the flood lights.

I knew that beyond these doors lay security and beyond that- freedom. I crept along the wall slowly, climbing over chairs while keeping a close eye on the camera. Luckily, it wasn’t moving. The blond woman who conducted the interview, whose name I never learned, would have found equal competition in Ms. Daniels now. I was pleased that despite the importance of focus in the situation that I could still imagine the two of them in bikinis- or nothing. A little smile formed as I imagined both of them working out, their trim bodies glistening. I had nothing down there to react, but I could still fantasize, and most importantly, I still found girls hot as hell.

While some no doubt would call my fantasizing sexist (probably Ashley) or inappropriate to the situation, it actually gave me courage. I soldiered on and pushed through the door into the security area, where incredibly, no one was on guard. A small waiting area sat across from the security desk, which was enclosed with thick, likely bullet-proof glass. Again, I remained locked to the shadows, sneaking to places untouched by the flood lights.

Once I reached the waiting area, I could see a corridor and something better than a half-naked or even fully naked Monique - a lit EXIT sign. I grinned widely and picked up my pace. At the end of the corridor was a small welcome area, but unlike every other room in the compound, it was distinctly different- there was a window.

I tried the door, but it was locked from the inside. One of the special access key slots was positioned just to the left of the handle, and unfortunately, Devon still had mine. Still, right next to the window was an outlet, which I immediately used to charge my phone.

I held the now giant phone in my hands. When I could use it like a tablet, I had little difficulty, meaning that taking pictures was a cinch, but typing on it required me to actually sit the phone on the floor like a mini-computer. While I waited for it to connect to the network, I started typing messages to Greg, Eve, and even Jessica, although I expected she would be mad at me for never texting her about the cancelled date. Thankfully, I could type the messages offline, but they would send once I connected.

The phone took forever to locate a network, but finally, it connected with one solid, glorious bar.

Despite this fact, three notifications popped up on the phone, all stating the same thing: “Message failed to send.” I tried again, but I achieved the same result. The phone still showed one bar. I quickly keyed in 9-1-1, but the call wouldn’t connect. What I was witnessing was impossible, but I didn’t give up.

I was so close to escaping from this living nightmare, and even though I would keep a potentially permanent souvenir if I was trapped in Kaylee’s body, at least I would retain my memories. This, in turn, would allow me to keep Ryan Sullivan alive. I would never become Kaylee in mind because doing so meant that the doctor’s experiment was a success.

I clicked the Facebook app, intending the send a message to Greg, but my phone displayed network connectivity problems. I wasn’t a technology genius or anything, but I knew how to switch networks. A small roaming charge was worth it if it meant getting the hell out of here.

Amazingly, my phone picked up a 4G network, and a few seconds later, I was connected.

I immediately moved to send the messages again, but the device vibrated gently, indicating another notification. I thought that my messages had failed again, but instead, it showed a new text message.

(323)9876543: This is over now, Kaylee. Walk slowly back to the waiting area.

Me: im callin cops

(323)9876543: Feel free to do so.

Wasting no time, I returned to my phone and called 9-1-1. The call wouldn’t connect. Considering my text messages were working I thought I could text the police, however; my attempt was unsuccessful.

My phone vibrated again.

(323)9876543: Be a good girl and come back, Kaylee. You’ve been on quite the adventure, but it’s time to come home.

I looked around, but I didn’t see any cameras. How were they watching me? I heard footsteps approaching and the distinct clicking of heels. With nothing left to lose, I pounded my tiny fists on the fire door, and proceeded to throw my body into it multiple times. It didn’t budge. I screamed, although my voice came out in a high-pitched shriek, “Help!! I’ve been kidnapped by fucking psychos! Help me!!” I continued frantically banging on the door.

The clicking of heels grew closer, close enough that I knew Ms. Daniels and I now shared the same corridor. I looked behind me and my previous thought was quickly confirmed. As I felt a hand on my shoulder, I noticed the access panel next to the fire door glow green. The door swung open like all the others, but as I was about to exit, I realized, as crushing despair weighed on my slight shoulders, that I had been viciously deceived.

My potential saviour, the one who had seemingly heard my cries for help, was Dr. Travers.

Ms. Daniels said, “Should their little escape attempt give you some of the data you require doctor?”

Dr. Travers stepped into the corridor, leaving the door wide open. He nodded, “It will. Although I will need to take the readings within the next hour. I trust this will not interfere with your filming?” Ms. Daniels shook her head. She snatched the phone from hands that were now trembling. I desperately tried not to cry as a lump the size of a bowling ball formed in my throat.

She leaned down and gently tousled my hair, while peering at my phone, “You got closer than the others, Kaylee. But ultimately, you can’t win.” She shook her head, “And with these messages you tried to send, you’ve shown you can’t be trusted.”

I shouted, “B-But you were going to wipe our memories either way! That’s what you said!”

Ms. Daniels smiled, “Well now you’ll never know. Will you? Don’t be upset though, you’ve shown a lot of ingenuity here, young lady. And I’ve been thinking it through, and I think I will just adopt you myself after the doctor fixes you up. That way you can keep filming the show.”

She leaned down and met me at eye level, however; the creepiest part of her action was in the expression, which matched the look my mother had given me as child many times. It was her “I want to be your mom face”. It was an expression I saw rarely as a teenager, but as a young child I saw it often enough. My mom would then try and join me in a game of guns or play super heroes with me. It was sad, but it was likely a sincere attempt. As much as she tried, she could never turn me into a momma’s boy. We just never had that kind of relationship.

To see a similar expression on the newly youthful face of Ms. Daniels, purged the tears from my body, and while a measure of fear remained, I was filled with white-hot rage. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s unbelievably sick. That you would try and have this weirdo relationship with me after what you did- and ...”

Ms. Daniels put her finger to my lips, “But you won’t remember any of it, sweetie. You’ll just be a blank canvas for mommy to fill. If the doctor does his job right that is. We’re going to have so much fun. My sweet, sweet beautiful little girl. I’ll put you in dance classes. You’ll be a pretty ballerina for mommy, won’t you?”

She reached out and hugged me, whispering, “We’ll watch Disney Princess movies, I’ll take you shopping for new clothes, and every night I’ll brush your long hair, tell you how beautiful you are, and you’ll go to sleep knowing mommy loves you very much. Won’t that be wonderful, Kaylee?”

I shook my head and tried to pry myself from the woman’s grip. Looking to Dr. Travers, I said, “Doc, I think you need to up her dose. And if she doesn’t have one, then you need to make one.”

Ms. Daniels giggled, “I’ll show you how to paint your nails. Then when you get older, you’ll get to wear makeup. And when you start noticing boys, well we’ll have a special talk. Just you and me. I can give you a magical, fantasy life. You’ll be mommy’s little princess.”

Dr. Travers said matter-of-factly, “I expect she suffered some form of childhood trauma and probably multiple failed pregnancies. She hides the neuroses well enough, but they do surface. Certainly you have heard her speak in that sing-song voice before.”

I had heard Ms. Daniels speak that way, but it was rare. The last time was when she said I’d be returning to mommy and daddy. Apparently, it was only mommy.

The doctor continued, “It seems despite your attempt at escape, she has taken a liking to you. She never speaks to the others with the same tone. These prognostications are based only on what I have seen in her behaviour. I haven’t studied her the same way I will you and your companions.” At this point, Dr. Travers leaned in close to me, uncomfortably close. It was a closeness that in a store or restaurant, with anyone but a parent or close friend, would have resulted in strange if not concerned looks. The doctor stared at me in much the same way he did when he was giving me the ‘vaccine’.

Ms. Daniels finally released me from her maternal death grip. “You’ll be very, very happy to go home with mommy when the time is right.” She walked away from me slowly, with a slight but noticeable slump to her shoulders. Just before leaving, however, she handed the phone back to me. I wasn’t surprised- it was useless with no signal to the outside world.

I shook my head, “This is so fucked up. Can’t you see that? You’re working for a person who should be in a mental hospital. Are you sure you can even trust her?”

Dr. Travers shook his head, “Absolutely not. And why do I work with her? Because she provides me, or will provide me with the datasets I require. She also provides me with financial backing needed to continue my experiments. The initial grant I received is only a fraction of what I require to actually fund this operation. Even a madwoman has uses, Mr. Sullivan.”

I replied, “And you really have no problem with this? Just for science? I mean couldn’t you heal people- you know help them? You cured Ashley’s allergy. Some people actually die. Isn’t that something you should make public? And that old people disease. I can’t remember the name. It could mean people would live longer.”

Dr. Travers said, “This is a highly illogical option. There are finite resources on this planet. If world hunger was solved, we would face extinction because those that no longer die would want what we have.”

He continued, “There is a balance, Mr. Sullivan. That is why there is no panacea, even though the Genome Project actually determined a way to remove genes that cause certain types of cancers. Your own government is aware of this. Why didn’t they make this knowledge public or share it with the world? Because cancer, like the bubonic plague and smallpox, is a wonderful equalizer. It kills and others take their place. It’s an efficient system. Diseases like that ensure that we never exhaust our finite resources.”

I peered at the still open door. I was caught between a madwoman who wanted to treat me like life-sized doll and a man that thought so little of his fellow humans that he would let potentially thousands and even millions die because it was striking a so-called ‘balance’. I obviously didn’t have a firm grasp on world hunger, but I figured if you could save a life, why wouldn’t you? It just seemed wrong. It was at this point, I realized there was little point in trying to reason with the doctor.

In the end, to him, I was just a collection of datasets.

Not even human.

The doctor said, “We are not completely dissimilar, Mr. Sullivan. Do not look at me in that manner.”

Had I actually offended the doctor’s sensibilities? Was he even capable of such emotion?

I shook my head, “What the hell are you talking about?”

The doctor replied, “We are both at times bereft of emotion. Although for you, it is a result of your upbringing. For me, it is something entirely outside of my control. I have enjoyed watching you break down at certain points, seeing how the change you have undergone has sapped your ability to walk through life, numb to pain or fear. It really is fascinating to see.”

I blinked, “H-How do you know all this stuff about me? You couldn’t have gotten all that when you gave me the vaccine.”

Dr. Travers clasped his hands together, his fingers wiggling excitedly. He had another secret to tell. “You would be amazed how much you can learn from an individual from their cellular phone. It is one reason why I don’t have one. Your text message thread with a certain ‘Greg’ revealed much about your past. Including your messages to various consorts that ended any brief union. We are alike because we both have a wilful disregard for the feelings of others, you with the female sex, and I with humanity as a whole. And we show that disregard in a lack of emotion.”

He continued, “Colloquially, you do so with the so-called notches on your bed posts. You move from conquest to conquest with little in the way of baggage or connection. I do so with my experiments to satisfy a scientific curiosity.”

I sighed heavily, knowing the truth of his words, but refusing to admit it. “What’s the point of all this? So we are both emotionless douches? For me, it’s just easier. I don’t like dealing with shit, so I break it off. And girls like Monique didn’t care. They wanted the same thing. Y-You’re just a monster.”

The doctor shook his head, folding his hands at his side. Emotion actually crept into his voice. I emitted a startled gasp as he spoke. “The point is that as I have seen in you and in the connection you forged with Ms. Perkins, you are capable of more. You can be more than as you put it an emotionless douche with respect to your relationships with females. I am also capable of more.

“Mr. Sullivan, I’m not a monster because unlike Ms. Daniels, who would like to see you dressed in petticoats and paraded about the pageant circuit, I am willing to set you free. You’ll keep your memories, and as long as you stay away from children your own age, you will maintain your adult mind.”

I shook my head in disbelief, “But- my body! You have to change me back before you let me go. I can’t leave here looking like this. And don’t you need your dataset? I don’t get it. Why would you let me go?’

Dr. Travers replied, “Because I don’t agree with what she plans to do with you. Better that you end up with anyone but her. Simply venture outside and you’ll be free, Mr. Sullivan. I will obtain my gender-based dataset from one of the two boys. Or another subject.”

He added, “There is something she sees in you. I don’t know what it is exactly, some undefined yet powerful bond. She has acted this way with no other subject, and as fascinating as it is to document your transition, even I have my limits- I won’t subject you to a lifetime with her.”

I said, “Aren’t you afraid that I will tell people what happened to me? That your whole plan will be discovered?”

The doctor nodded, “It’s a calculated risk. I would trust those in the know to safeguard the secret of the serum. I can’t give you back what has been taken from you, Mr. Sullivan, but I can provide you the means to escape.”

I looked out the door and into the parking lot of the television studio, at my freedom.

I shook my head, “What about Ashley? Where did you take her?”

Dr. Travers replied evenly, “Unimportant. This is your only chance to hold onto who you are Mr. Sullivan, and to avoid a fate where you are made to love the one who did this to you. Accept my generous offer and leave.”

He added, “The door will be open for five minutes.” He walked slowly away from me. I looked back, and he was gone. I was alone.

If I left, where would I go? Even though I had thought about my mom recently, I certainly didn’t want to tell her what happened to me. She would probably be as bad as Ms. Daniels. I knew she was disappointed that she never had a daughter, but I wasn’t about to give her that gift. No doubt she would mother me to the point where Ryan Sullivan would be replaced entirely with Kaylee.

I thought of Greg and Eve. They were the obvious choice. Knowing who I was, they wouldn’t try and raise me like a typical little girl. They wouldn’t make me go to school, meaning I could maintain my adult mind. They would probably just let me be Ryan. Also, I had the pictures from the whiteboard on my phone. I could e-mail them to biologists and universities, hoping that someone could figure out how to change me back.

I put one foot over the threshold, glad I had decided to wear my sneakers, despite the fact they were pink and covered with glow-in-the-dark glittery hearts and stars. As I started to move my other foot, I started to feel a tremendous sense of fear. My heart thudded in my chest, as my entire body began to shake. I looked at the world before me, and not only was it massive- it was terrifying.

Everything, from the cars to the buildings, to the people walking beyond the fence surrounding the studio, looked huge, and imposing. I was used to being alone. Alone, I fled my home to chase Hollywood dreams. I lived alone, at least prior to sharing a bedroom with Ashley. My thoughts went back to my mom, and a tiny part of me wished that she was there to hold my hand, to give me a little nudge.

Shit. What the hell was wrong with me? All the courage seeped from my body like a vicious winter wind ending the life of a dying fire. My mind was wracked by anxiety. What if Greg and Eve didn’t accept me? What if they dumped me at an orphanage? I’d end up surrounded by children all day and lose my adult self. I knew the fears made little sense, especially considering if I stayed I would have my memory wiped.

Still, the irrational fear persisted. It reminded me how I felt when we moved. I was always worried how the other kids would treat me, if school would be worse than it already was or if I’d be able to make any friends. The fears subsided within the first day, usually by the time I had told my first joke in class. The fears were irrational because I always managed to make friends no matter where I moved, but there were always butterflies in my stomach before the first day of school.

I tried to tell myself that I had nothing to fear, but this fear suddenly merged with my feelings of failure and surrender. It was easier to just stay and be erased. The outside world meant trying and potentially failing. The powerful concoction kept me from fully exiting the studio. I started to have grave concerns that Eve and Greg wouldn’t believe who I was. Why would they? I was already starting to act like a completely different person. Would they see any of Ryan in this child-sized body?

My heart now pounded in my chest, like the ratta-tat-tat-ratta-tat-tat of a fully automatic rifle. My hands grew sweaty, and my head swooned. Suddenly, the world outside the studio seemed like a nightmarish place. The cars became roaming beasts, and the people were misshapen husks covered in barbed wire. I felt dizzy, and my hand reached out to grab hold of the door, causing me to tumble back inside. I told myself repeatedly that what I was seeing made no sense, and that I desperately had to leave.

As horrible a fate that awaited me inside, I imagined worse fates beyond. While the studio and my bedroom was a prison, at least it was safe. I was free from harm, while the world beyond, a place of eternal mystery held unspeakable danger. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I acting like such a pussy over this? Just leave. I had a plan. Meet Greg and Eve, send the e-mails with the pics.

Just leave.

The door shut.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Dr. Travers.

His lips trembled for a moment, the corners of his mouth gradually lifting.

Impossibly, the man was smiling.