This is actually inspired (that may be the wrong word) by an article I read. Apparently in Marseilles some years ago there was a gang that used to kidnap young boys, feminise them, and sell their services as prostitutes.

She didn’t actually remember it until the psychiatrist teased it out of her mind. The indoctrination had been so complete and effective that it was buried in the back of her head somewhere, together with all the other memories which had not mattered during her recent life. She was still getting used to doing without the happy-drugs and that occupied a lot of her consciousness, in fact most of it. Ancient history had not been a priority for years. Why would it be when the focus was on feeling good today and tomorrow? That had been the only thing that mattered.

It had been three or four weeks since the raid, she thought, although she wasn’t exactly sure. Time had been a bit elastic for a while after that, and when they hadn’t given her that regular injection or the pills which she had come to depend on she had been out of it for a while, screaming and sobbing and begging for them to give it to her. She promised to do anything they wanted. Did they want a blow-job? She was only too happy to do it. She gave the best blow-jobs in the business. Everybody said so. She just loved to have a dick between her lips and she could make that dick do spectacular things. Her tongue could manipulate a frenulum better than anybody. Did they want to fuck her? It wasn’t a problem. She loved being fucked, the bigger the cock, the better, the deeper it penetrated her the more she liked it. Something more exotic? Anything they wanted. Bondage, S&M, anal sex? Just ask. Anything to lose this nausea and the goose-bumps and the chills and that general rotten feeling, shaking, nose running and eyes streaming.

She just couldn’t understand when they pushed her away, with something like revulsion on their faces. All the other men from before always wanted her. She had made sure she looked her prettiest and dressed so that they would notice her and take her because she knew she would get her happy-juice injection and some pills. Doctor Adam was good about that.

When she had got over the worst of the sweats and the shivers and had thrown up until she was too weak to do any more they had actually given her some injections which made her feel a little better. They were not the real thing but they were better than nothing, and after another week or so she had been able to eat without being totally nauseated. All that time she had been dressed only in a kind of smock because she messed it all the time. She hadn’t cared about peeing in it or spewing over it or shitting on it and she wasn’t really in control anyway. The women who looked after her had changed her regularly and washed her just like she was a baby.

Slowly she became aware of her surroundings again and a few days ago she had asked the nice lady who talked to her all the time if she could have a shower and wash her hair, and when she had done that she realised that she would like to feel pretty again so she had asked for some make-up and a decent nightie and dressing gown. The nice lady had looked at her with a kind of pity which she thought was strange but had brought the stuff she asked for. She felt so much better with clean hair and some eye-shadow and mascara and a smear of lip-gloss. Perhaps she would soon ask if she could get her hair done properly and wear some nice underwear and a real dress and shoes.

The nice lady told her that her name was Elizabeth, but she could call her Liz. She was a psychiatrist and it was her job to make her well again. Funny, she didn’t remember being crazy.

One day the lady took her to a room that looked like a doctor's surgery, sat her down on a sort of couch and started questioning her, which made her very nervous. The tissue she was holding to wipe her nose was soon crumpled and then shredded by her hands which seemed to have taken on a life of their own.

Liz started off by asking her name.

“I’m Catherine,” she told her.

“Yes, dear, but you must have had another name before. Think hard. Can you remember ever having a boy’s name?”

The girl obviously concentrated, screwing up her face as she thought. “No, I’ve always been Catherine. If I wasn’t Catherine I didn’t get my happy-juice.”

“Who did you say you were to make them not give you your happy-juice?”

The girl struggled again with that thought, and said grudgingly, “I told them my name was Anthony, but it was only at first and it wasn’t true. When I told them it was really Catherine they gave me my happy-juice, so that must be my name. Doctor Adam always gave me my happy-juice when I was a good girl.”

“Yes, dear, but when did you think you were Anthony, and why?”

Again that long and painful pause, and this time she burst into tears and her hands writhed ever more nervously.

“It was when they took me in the car, and afterwards,” she sobbed.

“Why don’t you tell me about when they took you in the car? Tell me what happened. Can you remember how old you were? What were you doing when it happened?” Liz was stroking the girl's hair to calm her.

The girl thought for another minute or so, and her tears diminished a little.

“I was on my way home from school and this big black car pulled up next to me. There was a man driving and a man in the back. The man in the back was Doctor Adam. He asked me if I was Anthony Asher and I said I was. He told me my Mum had had an accident and was in the General Hospital and he’d been sent to find me and take me there, so he opened the door and I got in. I think I was 12 when that happened.”

The girl Catherine got quite agitated all over again when she recounted that. “Look, lady, my name’s Catherine and I’m a girl. Now can I have some happy-juice please? I’ve told you what you wanted to hear. I’ve been a good girl, haven’t I?”

“Yes dear, you’ve been a very good girl. Can I call you Cathy? I can’t give you happy-juice but I’ll give you something nearly as good that won’t hurt you. It’ll make you sleepy though, so we’ll continue tomorrow, OK.” She injected the girl with a syringe and led her to a couch and laid her down. In a minute she was asleep.

As soon as she was sure Cathy was dead to the world Liz picked up the phone and rang the police detective she was working with. After the brothel had been raided six teenage girls had been taken into custody as well as the two men who were obviously in charge of the establishment. All of them were addicted to heroin, but it was a shock to the police to find out, following a medical examination, that the girls were all genetically male. They had immediately transferred them to psychiatric custody for further investigation.

“Hi, Dan. Liz here. I’ve got the first crack in the wall. She’s like the others, so conditioned she believes everything they’ve told her, but I got her to remember when they took her. Her name was Anthony Asher, aged 12. That would have been about five years ago, so check your missing persons files for that period. With what we’ve got from the other girls we have enough to send this Adam character away for years on the strength of the kidnappings alone, but the way he’s mutilated these kids and messed with their minds, plus addicting them to heroin, I don’t know what punishment would be enough.”

The man on the other end of the phone spoke for a while.

“Yes, I know it’s hard for you to come to terms with. All these boys turned into near perfect imitation girls, and wanting to please you sexually every time you come near them. Don’t get me wrong, but you may need some counselling yourself when this is over.”

He spoke again.

“Look, whatever you do, don’t blame the kids. I know it’s disgusting and revolting, but it’s not their fault. They’ve been physically modified without consent and mentally manipulated with the aid of the drugs. You of all people should know that an addict will do literally anything to get their fix and these kids are in a worse state or more than most addicts.”

There were more noises from the other end of the phone.

“Yes, I’ll continue with her tomorrow, but it’s not going to happen overnight. I have to break down the conditioning and her body has to adjust to the absence of the drug. Don’t worry. I’m recording everything so you’ll have your evidence. She’s the youngest of them all, so she should be easier to rehabilitate than some of the others.”

The phone gurgled again.

“Make no mistake, Dan. My job is to help her first. I want to see that shit put away maybe more than you, but I won’t destroy her to do it, and yes, she is a she. There’s no going back for her. She’s stuck with what she’s been made into and I have to try to make her reasonably happy with it. Please, I don’t need you coming on all male chauvinist with her, all right?”

With that, Liz put the phone down, sighing as she did so. Men could be so difficult, particularly when they felt threatened sexually.

The next morning Liz went to see Cathy in her room before she got dressed.

“Hello, Cathy dear. I thought you might be ready for some proper clothes, some nice underwear, a skirt and blouse maybe and some decent shoes. What do you think?”

Cathy actually smiled for the first time that Liz remembered since starting to see her. The girl’s face was still pale and drawn, her eyes big and nervous, but there was animation there too, a hopeful sign.

“Yes, please. That would be really nice.”

“I’ll have to go and pick something for you. Will that be OK? In a couple of days we can take you shopping and you can choose some things on your own, but for now you’ll have to trust me. I’ll have to guess your sizes because you’ve lost quite a lot of weight since you came here. What about your shoe size?”

“I’m a size 7.”

“That’s the same as me. Here, try these on. If they fit it’ll make things easier.”

The shoes fitted pretty well. Liz had known they would because she had tried them on the girl while she slept last night, guessing that new clothes would make her feel much better and therefore easier to question, and what teenage girl can resist new shoes. The clothes sizes weren’t too hard to estimate when a tape measure had been run over her sleeping body.

Liz told Cathy to take a shower while she went and bought the clothes. A quick trip to Marks and Spencer’s reaped a pretty and serviceable couple of sets of panties, bras, stockings, skirts and tops, and a pair of black pumps with three-inch heels, enough to set the mood and be going on with.

When Liz returned to the psychiatric hospital Cathy was waiting with barely concealed eagerness and quickly unwrapped the purchases, sighing with delight when she put on the panties and the bra. She fussed with the skirt and top and grumbled a little that the skirt was too long and the neckline of the top too high, but she was clearly pleased to be wearing real clothes again. Once she had fixed her face and hair she was much more relaxed than she had been the previous day, which was, of course, exactly what Liz wanted. She had also transformed from a rather sickly-looking kid into an extremely pretty girl, even though still pale with worried doe-eyes.

“Now Cathy, I’m going to ask you more questions, starting from where we got to yesterday. I don’t want you to get upset, but I’m going to call you Anthony to begin with, because I think it will help you to remember, OK?”

Cathy looked nervous and nodded uncertainly, her fingers twisting together in her lap.

“Lie down on this couch and relax. If you get frightened just tell me and we’ll take a break. Now, I’m going to count to fifty and I want you to breathe nice and slowly and then I’ll start asking you questions. One...two...three....four...five....six.....fifty.”

The young girl lay there with her eyes closed, breathing evenly, relaxed now.

“Now, you got into the car, Anthony. What happened next?”

“The next thing I knew I was waking up and I felt better than I ever felt in my life. There was a slight pain in between my legs, but it just didn’t matter, and I seemed to remember a couple of pricks in my backside, but I just felt so good. I was practically floating and everything seemed so fine. Then I remembered my mother had had an accident, but I couldn’t get upset about it. I asked the man, Doctor Adam, where my mother was and he said the accident wasn’t as bad as they had thought at first so she had gone home. I was very happy for her.”

“Then he asked me how I felt and I told him I felt wonderful, and he asked me if I would like to feel that way all the time.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Yes, please, sir.”

“Well, Catherine, you can, but you have to be a good girl and do what I tell you, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I understand, but my name is Anthony and I’m a boy.”

“No, from this moment on your name is Catherine and you are already a girl. If you don’t believe this you will very soon start feeling sick and will only get better when you accept what I tell you.”

“But sir, my name is Anthony and I’m a boy. How can I change that?”

“Catherine, you’re being stubborn and I will have to punish you until you obey me.”

The girl on the couch began to get agitated and tears leaked from her eyes.

“Please, Miss Elizabeth, don’t call me Anthony any more. My name is Cathy and I’m not a boy, I’m a girl. “

“Hush, my dear. It’s all right Cathy. Tell me what he did to you then.”

The girl quieted somewhat. “First, he didn’t give me any happy-juice and soon I felt really rotten. I was shivering and I got goose-pimples all over. I felt like I was going to be sick all the time and my muscles cramped. It was awful. Then he gave me some more happy-juice and I felt wonderful again, but he said he didn’t believe me when I agreed with him that my name was Catherine and I was a girl, so he was going to prove to me that I was a girl.”

“He stripped me naked and put me in a big cage. It was big enough for me to lie down if I curled up a little. There was a bowl like a dog bowl that they put some mushy food in once a day. On one side of the cage there was a thing like a rubbery cock about half way up and if I wanted to drink I had to suck on it. There was another harder one on the floor at the other end of the cage and he told me I had to sit on it and work it up inside of me if I wanted my injections. He put TV screens all around and all they showed were girls sucking and being fucked from behind, like he told me, doggy style, which was why I was in the cage, he said: to learn. All the time the voices on the TVs were saying how nice it was to suck and be fucked, and how girls really liked it. Because the cage was not big enough to stand up in I got cramped. He said if I sucked and fucked like a good girl the cramps would go away and he’d give me happy-juice.

At first it was very uncomfortable as I felt I was choking and wanting to shit all the time as the cocks stretched me and filled my mouth and throat, but then I got the injection and I did it so that I would feel good. The lights and the screens were on all the time and I couldn’t sleep, but when the cramps got bad I would push myself on to the back one and suck the other one and they would pulse and wiggle and after a bit I started to like it, especially since I knew I would get the happy-juice and the voices kept on telling me good girls loved to do it and the girls on the screens seemed to be enjoying it so much. He kept on calling me Catherine and saying I was a good girl and he would let me out when I had learned my lesson. I’m not sure but I think I was in there for a couple of weeks and of course he was right. I had been stupid and my name WAS Catherine and I WAS a girl and I don’t know why I thought any different. Then he let me out and said my training would start straight away.”

Liz was so shaken by this story that she couldn’t go on any more that day and told Cathy she could relax until tomorrow. The girl seemed less upset than the psychiatrist expected. She said she didn’t mind very much because she had got her happy-juice and the rest didn’t really matter. Liz gave her another injection of methadone to keep her calm and rang Dan to pass on the news. Naturally he was disgusted. In both of them there grew an even greater desire to make the so-called Doctor Adam pay for his actions.

Liz and Cathy continued the following day.

“How did they train you, Cathy?”

“Well, first they made me dress in girls’ clothes. I had to wear panties and a training bra and these cute little dresses with petticoats, and ankle-socks and mary-jane shoes. They did something with my hair to make it longer. Two other girls were brought in to show me how to behave, how to dress myself and sit and stand and walk. Their names were Julia and Patsy. They told me that if I didn’t do everything right they wouldn’t get any happy-juice and nor would I, and if they didn’t get their injections they would be very angry with me and make me suffer.”

“I wanted to get mine, so I tried very hard to do what they told me. When they said I must move in such-and-such a way I did it. I practiced walking with a wiggle in my hips and holding my hands by my sides with my wrists limp; how to bend down from the knees instead of from the waist like a boy. They taught me how to curtsey and smile nicely for the customers and how to do my hair and put on make-up. I learned how to talk like a girl too; use words and expressions the way a girl does. I really tried and I was very good and we all got our happy-juice every day. After a while it all seemed to come naturally. The more I tried to be a girl the better I liked it”

“I see. Can you tell me when you knew you didn’t have testicles anymore?”

“Oh, that was before, when I was in the cage. I don’t remember exactly when, but one day when I was putting the rubber cock in my backside I felt my crutch and I knew it was empty. Before I had balls in the sack behind my willy and now I didn’t.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“I don’t remember feeling anything. I got my shot of happy-juice and that took care of everything. That was all that mattered.”

“And how did you feel about having to wear girls’ clothes and make-up and all that?”

“I didn’t really mind. If Doctor Adam said I was a good girl I got my injection, so I tried very, very hard to do it right, and, after a while I began to like it very much. If I looked good and did my hair right and dressed real pretty then everything would be all right, so soon I liked it very much and I couldn’t imagine any other way of dressing. It got even better as I got older and my breasts developed and my hips and bum became nicely shaped. Then the clothes really started to look good on me.”

“When did you have to serve customers? When did that start?”

“I’m not sure. I think it was about three or four months after I got there. Doctor Adam taught me how to suck meat lollies and when he thought I was good enough I had to do it for other men and sometimes I had to lick ladies too. Oh, and sometimes they used to fuck me, too, just like I’d been taught.”

“What did you think about that?”

“At first I was a bit scared, but when Doctor Adam told me I was a natural it made me so happy and now I love it. When are you going to give me some more cocks to suck? I can’t wait to take out some of that lovely meat inside the trousers that I see round here. And what about you Liz? Would you like your fanny licked? I promise you I’ll make you very happy.”

Liz was revolted. This poor child had been turned into a sex machine, but, at the same time the idea of having her pussy licked insinuated into her mind and refused to go away. To make things worse her body also started to betray her as she began to get damp between her legs. The temptation was nigh on irresistible, yet with a mental and physical shudder she made herself clamp down on that thought.

While she was getting her mind back into gear the girl had moved quickly into a position kneeling in front of her and had begun to slide her hands up Liz’s thighs, kneading the soft flesh there. Shivering more than slightly Liz grabbed Cathy’s wrists and had to almost wrestle her back.

“Cathy! No! Don’t! Please, you mustn’t.” As she straightened her clothes and regained her composure Cathy’s face screwed up and she burst into tears.

“I thought you liked me. I only wanted to make you feel good. None of the other ladies wanted me to stop.”

Liz got herself under control, put her arms around the sobbing girl and pulled her face into her shoulder, stroking her hair as she did so.

“I do like you very much, Cathy, but you have been taught some things that are not appropriate. I have to find out all the things that have been done to you and try to make you see them in a different light. In order to do this I have to have a stand-off relationship with you. If you and I get sexually involved they will take me off of your case and put somebody else on it. I don’t want that to happen and I hope you don’t either.”

Cathy stopped crying and looked at Liz with fear in her eyes.

“No, don’t leave me. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then you have to behave and not make any advances to me. Just answer my questions and tell me your story, OK?”

“Yes, Miss Elizabeth.”

“It’s Liz. Thanks Cathy and I really do like you so let me help you get better, all right?”

The girl nodded and Liz thought how beautiful she was even in a bedraggled state. She tried to see her as the boy she might have become but her minds eye wouldn’t produce the picture. Anyway it was her job to try and return this girl to a normal life and she would do her damnedest to make it a happy one.

“Let’s carry on then. Tell me more about the men. What did you actually have to do for them?”

“Well, usually Dr. Adam would tell me I had a customer coming two or three hours before they came and if they had any special requirements, so I could get myself ready.”

“What do you mean ‘special requirements’?” Liz had a pretty good idea what it meant but wanted Cathy’s voice on tape detailing the degradation she had had to endure.

“Some of them wanted me dressed as a schoolgirl or a French maid. I really liked being a French maid. Others wanted me to be a nurse or in black leather. Some liked me to look like a Hollywood screen goddess. My favourite was Veronica Lake. Others just wanted me in a negligee so they didn’t have to waste time undressing me. Those were usually a bit rough and I didn’t like them so much.”

“So what did you do when they arrived?”

“I had to greet them as if they were my only lover, fuss over them and make them comfortable; get them a drink if they wanted one, and stay in character if it was a special, like if I was a domme I had to humiliate them or a schoolgirl I had to call them Daddy. You know. They nearly all wanted me to give them a blow-job first and I could hardly wait. As soon as I could without spoiling the mood I would have their cocks out of their pants and be on my knees in front of them sucking that lovely gorgeous meat lolly. Have you ever tried it, Liz? It’s so nice when you start and tease the head, giving it little licks and kisses and nibbles. Then you take the whole of the shaft into your mouth and sort of squeeze it backwards and forwards until you feel that final swelling just before a man cums and then everything spurts into your mouth and you swallow it all and then lick him clean. It’s really delicious and you just know they want more.”

Liz couldn’t stop blushing. She hadn’t ever sucked a cock and here was this nymph describing it with such relish and enthusiasm that she found mental images of herself and a past lover floating into her thoughts, with her mouth engulfing his dick. She shuddered and again mentally clamped down as her nipples began to tighten under her blouse.

“No dear. Go on.”

“There were only a couple of guys who didn’t want that. There was one who was very sweet. He only wanted me to be like his French ladies’ maid. I used to take him upstairs, undress him, shower and powder him and dress him as a woman, make up his face and tell him how good he looked, which was true actually. Then he would pretend he was the lady of the manor and I would be her servant for a few hours. We would go downstairs and I would bring her tea and cake and wait on her. When time was up I took her upstairs and turned her back into a man again. She always cried when I did that. I used to really want to suck her cock and make her feel better but she wouldn’t let me. She used to give me very big tips.”

“What did you do with your tips?”

“Oh, I had to give them to the Doctor to help pay for my upkeep.”

“What about the other one?”

“Oh, he was quite different. I was supposed to be his wife and as soon as he saw me he would start yelling at me and call me a slut and a bitch. He used to grab me by the arm and drag me to the bedroom, throw me on the bed and take me from behind. I always made sure I was well lubricated when he was coming. Then when he was finished he just used to leave, still calling me names. I think he was probably actually scared of his wife.”

“Hmmm. I think you might be right, dear. Tell me, when did they remove your penis?”

“That was a bit over a year ago. Dr. Adam took me to this special hospital and I was in there for about two weeks.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“It was OK. The silly little thing didn’t do anything. It was just what I peed through. The Doctor said a pussy would be much nicer and more useful. When I came out of hospital they gave me this big plastic tool that I had to put inside me every day. At first it hurt because I was sore but the happy-juice made the pain go away and after a while it felt so good that I used to put the tool in five or six times a day. It made me feel as good as an injection. Then, after about three months Dr. Adam took me to bed and fucked me in my new fanny with his cock. God, it felt so good. I thought I would pass out because I loved it so. Then I could service my customers with something extra. I was really happy. Do you think any of the men here would like to fuck me? I’m getting so wet just talking about it.”

Liz watched in a kind of horrified daze as the sweet-looking young girl pulled up her skirt, thrust her fingers into her crutch and began to masturbate, her face taking on a look of ecstasy. The psychiatrist wanted to stop her but found herself unable to move until Cathy spasmed and came with a little scream.

She eyed Liz with a languorous smile on her lips. “See, I couldn’t do that before. I bet you love to have a cock in there too, don’t you?”

Liz unfroze. “I think we’ve done enough for today, Cathy,” she strangled out. “Let’s take a break.”

The psychiatrist gave the child her methadone injection and left her staring into space with a dreamy and vacant look on her face. She was licking the fingers of the hand she had masturbated with.

Liz felt ashamed of herself for her reactions during the session. She didn’t know whether to throw up or find something to smash. What had been done to the child was utterly callous and she knew it would be hard work undoing it. That out-and-out shit Adam!

She rang the police officer, Dan, and told him what she had recorded today.

“I hope it’s enough. I don’t know how much more I can take,” she said.

The policeman told her it was definitely enough. With what the other girls had told them Adam would be going away for a long time. When he was convicted the word would be put around in the prison that he was a serial child-molester, the most despised class of criminal. The other inmates would make sure his stretch wasn’t a cake-walk. Then the detective produced a surprise. They had found Anthony Asher’s mother and she wanted to see her little boy as soon as possible, understandable since she had all but given up hope of ever seeing him alive again.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Did you tell her what’s been done to him?”

There was buzzing on the other end of the line.

“Oh, thank you so much. You just told her he’d changed physically, like he’d grown up some and maybe she wouldn’t recognise him. So you’ve left it all to me and I’m going to have to deal with a distraught woman and introduce her to her nymphomaniac daughter when she’s expecting her son. God, I hate men sometimes.” Liz slammed down the receiver.

She sat and seethed as she thought about this development. Gradually she quietened down. It was obviously impossible to postpone a meeting between mother and daughter for long. She would see if she could hold the mother off for a day or two after she broke the news, just so she could get to grips with the idea. Maybe it might give Cathy an anchor to the real world, as long as Mrs. Asher could accept her as her child. If Cathy went back into a normal environment it could give her therapy a real boost.

The next day Liz told Cathy she was taking her shopping and she wanted her to pick clothes that a customer might want to see her in if he asked for a teenage girl. She took up the challenge with a vengeance, buying a couple of mini-dresses and tight jeans and short tops that showed her midriff, clearly enjoying the outing and preening in the shops as she tried things on. When Liz took her back to the hospital she told the youngster that she wanted her to dress in those clothes for the next couple of days and to pretend she was a teenager, which of course she was.

Mrs. Asher had rung the hospital and Liz had agreed to see her later that afternoon. When she arrived Liz arranged for Cathy to be in an interview room which had a one-way observation mirror along one wall and had given her a couple of teen magazines to keep her occupied.

Liz met the mother in her office and sat her down with a cup of tea. The lady had clearly once been very attractive but now five years of strain, uncertainty, worry, fear and anguish had taken their toll and she looked every day of her age. Also she was absolutely determined to see her son, come hell or high water.

“You can see him in a few minutes Mrs. Asher, but I want you to realise he’s been through a dreadful experience and is under psychiatric care. I’m worried about the effect this might have on you as you almost certainly won’t recognise him. Therefore I’ve arranged for you to see him in an observation facility today and then I want you to go away, think about what you’ve seen, and come back tomorrow to talk to me. You’ll understand in a few moments that a reunion could be traumatic for you both.”

“I really don’t understand. It’s my right to see my son after five long years. Many a time I thought I’d never see him again. I just want to hold him...please?”

“I beg you to be patient, Mrs. Asher. Believe me, I want this to work out, but he’s physically very different to the boy you remember.”

“They didn’t disfigure him, did they? I won’t care as long as I get my son back.”

“Not in the way you might think, Mrs. Asher, but please be prepared for a shock. Now, let’s go and see him,” and Liz led the way to the room adjacent to the one-way mirror.

“There he is,” said Liz, indicating the lovely young girl sitting reading on the other side of the glass.

“Is this some kind of sick joke? Are you trying to make a fool of me? That’s not my son.”

“I’m afraid it is Mrs. Asher. Look closely and you’ll see the features, but that’s what they did to him. They made him into a girl and into a prostitute and a heroin addict. We can treat the second two conditions but the first is irreversible. Your son is now your daughter.”

To her great credit Mrs. Asher did not faint or recoil. She stepped closer to the mirror and carefully scrutinised the face of the girl in the next room. After a couple of minutes she turned to Liz with tears running down her face.

“My poor, poor boy. Whatever did he do to deserve this?”

“He accepted a lift from strangers. They told him you had had an accident and they were sent to take him to you. Of course he believed them and then it was too late. Those evil bastards addicted him to heroin and then moulded him into what you see in front of you. Forgive me, I have to call him “she” now. Her name is Catherine and she has had hundreds of sexual encounters with both men and women over the last five years and she is currently convinced that she loves it because of the conditioning. Now you know why I wanted you to just see her today. Your mind must be in turmoil with the shock and I imagine there must be some guilt and possibly even disgust if you think about those years she has endured, what was done to her and what she has done as a consequence.”

The mother clutched Liz’s arm and staggered. The psychiatrist quickly guided her to a chair.

“Do you want to go back to my office?”

“No. I want to sit here and look at her a bit longer. She’s still my child, you know, and I haven’t seen her.. him.. for five long years. I often feared he was dead, but I never gave up, and now this. She’s very pretty, isn’t she? Anthony always had very delicate features. I’m sorry if I’m rambling. It’s all very confusing. Did you tell her I was coming?”

“No. I wanted to make sure you were all right with it first. The child’s been traumatised enough without being rejected by her mother.”

“How could you think I would do that? She’s still my baby, whatever she looks like. Yes, it’ll take a lot of getting used to and I do need time to think things through, but I’ll tell you now, she’s coming home with me,” said the woman heatedly.

“Like I said before, why don’t you think about things overnight and call me tomorrow. If that’s the way you feel I’ll tell Cathy you’re coming to see her. I hope you don’t change your mind. Believe me, there are many parents who wouldn’t have been able to face up to it. I think you’re very brave and very strong and that will really help Cathy to become a normal girl. One thing though, it’s going to be several weeks if not months, before I can release Cathy. I have to be sure she’s no danger to herself or others. She is a recovering addict you know. Of course you can come and see her any time, even overnight here if you wish.”

“Oh, very well. I’ll call you in the morning, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

With a last, longing glance at Cathy through the window Mrs. Asher left the room with Liz and then left the building. Liz heaved a mighty sigh of relief, both at the mother’s acceptance, at least for now, that her son had become her daughter and that she had been somewhat able to gloss over the depth of Cathy’s addiction to sex.

Liz decided to take a chance that the mother would not change her mind. She had, after all, seemed pretty determined. She retrieved Cathy from the interview room and took her to her office, sat her down and told her that her mother had been found and wanted to see her. How did Cathy feel about that?

“I sort of don’t know. Until you started me remembering things, I had almost forgotten about her, but now I know it was because I was really scared for her that I got into the car. I must have loved her but it’s all a bit fuzzy.”

“Do you want to see her? She knows what happened to you and she wants to see you. If it gets too hard you only have to tell me and I’ll send her away.”

“No, I’ll see her. It’ll be OK.”

“All right. No time like the present. How about this afternoon? If she agrees, of course. Let me talk to her.”

“Yeah, sure, but I want to look my best, so can I have a couple of hours to get ready?”

“Of course you can, dear, but nothing too outrageous, please?” She escorted Cathy back to her room to let her change, while silently praying that her mother hadn’t changed her mind since yesterday.

It was not long until Mrs. Asher rang and immediately demanded to know when she could see her son.

“Mrs. Asher, You can see her today. I’m so glad you still feel the same way, because I told her you would come and she wants to see you too. In fact she’s getting ready now. I think we should talk first, though. I’d like to prepare you for some of the things that might happen.”

“Oh dear...’she’.... It’s so hard to get used to. I have to remember I have a daughter now. My poor little Anthony is gone but still with me. Oh, I hope I can cope. Yes, I think it’s a good idea if we talk first. I must sort myself out before I meet her. I’ll be there in half an hour. Will that be all right?”

“Of course,” replied Liz.

Mrs. Asher arrived only twenty minutes later, clearly impatient and more than a little nervous. Liz steered her into her office and gave her a seat and a cup of tea. She asked the mother her name and was told it was Phyllis so she began her little lecture.

“Phyllis dear, there are a few things I must warn you about. You have to start by remembering that your son was castrated almost immediately after he was kidnapped, was given heroin and subjected to a form of brainwashing, degradation and debauchery. From the time he awoke after being in the car nothing about his life was normal. He was dressed and indoctrinated to be a girl and he went through a female puberty except for the incongruity of having a penis. However, he did not have the benefit of a girl’s family environment and was taught to be a sex object, so that to him.....her..., that is now normal. She exists to satisfy the sexual needs of others and finds that not only natural, but necessary to her well-being.”

“You mean she’s a slut?” asked Phyllis.

“I think that word doesn’t have any meaning in her case. She craves sex and because of the addiction and the indoctrination she equates it with feeling good. If you drop your guard she may well make advances towards you, even though you’re her mother. She just wants to make you happy in the only way she knows how. I can treat that condition but it’ll take time and I want you to know what may happen if you’re not careful. She doesn’t have any morals in the normal sense of the word. Rehabilitating her will be like teaching a small child what’s right and wrong. I’m thinking of using hypnotherapy on her to facilitate the process.”

“Do you really think you can make her into a normal girl?”

“I can only do so much. You will have to play the biggest part in the end. A loving home environment and having somebody who really cares for her, someone who will give her a moral compass and support her when she looks like backsliding, will be the most important thing. I warn you, it’ll be hard work.”

“I don’t care, as long as I get my baby back. You can’t imagine what it’s been like these last five years. The only thing that kept me alive was the hope that we’d find him......her, I mean. I can’t wait to get her home, and I promise I will love her with all my heart. Can I meet her now?”

“Give me a moment to get her to one of the lounges and I’ll be right back for you, Phyllis,” Liz told her and went to fetch Cathy.

She went to the girl’s room with mental fingers crossed, hoping she had prepared herself in a suitable manner. When she opened the door she was pleasantly surprised. Cathy was sitting waiting, her hair pulled back in a pony tail, no make-up, which made her look as boyish as she could possibly be, which wasn’t very much, but would give her mother at least a glimpse of her lost boy. She was wearing a white top with a boat neck, thankfully not too daring, and a knee-length black skirt. The 3-inch heel black pumps that Liz had originally bought her from M&S completed the outfit.

All in all she looked quite demure except that there was no denying the entirely female figure inside the clothes. Nobody was ever going to mistake her for a boy.

“You look very nice, dear. Are you ready to see your Mum now?”

“I guess so. Do you think she’ll be all right?”

“I think so. I’m more worried about you.” With that, Liz took Cathy by the hand and escorted her to the lounge, told her to wait and went and fetched Phyllis Asher, who charged ahead of her when told her daughter was waiting.

The psychiatrist had to almost run to get in front of her to open the door and, all of a sudden, mother and daughter were face to face. Cathy surged to her feet and Phyllis stopped dead in her tracks as they stared at each other. Long seconds passed, until the mother reached out her hands and said;
“Oh, Anthony, I’ve missed you so much.”

In an instant they were embracing, weeping and hugging each other as if they would never let go, with Phyllis stroking her child’s hair and kissing her face indiscriminately, making up for all those years.

“Mum, I’m so sorry, so very sorry. You always told me to be careful about accepting lifts, but they lied to me. They told me you were hurt and they were taking me to you, so I believed them. And now look what they did to me. Please don’t hate me. I know I made a mistake. I’m sorry,” and the tears streamed down that pretty face.

“Hush, darling. It doesn’t matter any more. I’ve got you back and that’s what counts. Actually, you’re beautiful too. I hate them for taking you away from me for all that time, but now I’ve got to make it up to you. We have to start over and I promise you we will make it all better than before. When I get you home I’ll look after you and we will be so happy together. I’m going to enjoy having a daughter and I hope you’ll enjoy having a Mum. I’ll have to be more careful this time so that I don’t lose you again.”

Liz stood silently watching all this, greatly relieved, and thinking what a champion Phyllis Asher was. She saw that the tears rolling down Cathy’s cheeks were happy tears. There was no longer any fear or tension in her face, and Liz allowed herself to hope that the girl could be brought to a state of normality. After observing for a little longer she decided that she could safely leave the two of them to get to know each other untended for a while, and so she quietly left the room, gently pulling the door to as she went.

An hour later she returned to find the pair entwined together on the sofa, the girl cuddled into her mother with her arms around her, and Phyllis stroking her hair and gazing adoringly at her new daughter, murmuring endearments as she did so. Liz coughed and suggested that it might be enough for them today, reminding them that there was always tomorrow. Mrs. Asher reluctantly disengaged herself from Cathy’s embrace and promised to return in the morning. The girl was equally loath to let go but accepted her mother’s assurances and allowed Liz to take her back to her room.

Liz went back to find Mrs. Asher still sitting in the lounge waiting for her, looking happier and more relaxed than at any time since the psychiatrist had first met her.

“Well,” said Liz, “I think that went pretty well, don’t you?”

“I think so too. She really is a sweet and innocent child, and I can see my Anthony inside her too. I know now that I will be able to love her. I can’t wait to get her home. I think we’ll both be good for one another.”

‘Innocent?’ thought Liz. She guessed it depended how you assessed it, but she knew what the woman meant.

“Good. I hope you’ll come and see her as often as possible. It’ll help her therapy and soon I will want you to take her out on trips to reintroduce her to the world; go shopping, eat out, take her to the movies and stuff like that. Then in a couple of months she can go home. That’s when you’ll have to educate her. Remember she’s had no schooling since she was twelve, so there’s a lot of catching up to do. It’ll be hard work.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Nothing matters except having my child back.”

The two women got into detail. Liz wanted to treat Cathy in the mornings, so Phyllis would come every afternoon and bring books and magazines to entertain her daughter. After two weeks they would assess her progress and decide on the next phase of her rehabilitation. Soon it was settled and Mrs. Asher left, now almost jaunty, smiling to herself.

Liz returned to see Cathy sitting in her room, but also looking quite relaxed.

“What do you think, dear?” asked Liz.

“Umm, she’s very nice, and I was remembering more and more about when I was with her before. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could go back to then? Can I go home with her, Liz? I think I’d really like that. I think I can love her again and I want her to love me.”

“Yes, you can go home with her, but I have to keep you here for a few weeks. She’s going to come and see you every day, so you can get to know each other again. I think you’re both going to be all right.”

Liz began hypnotherapy sessions with Cathy the next morning, winkling out lost or hidden memories and making sure the girl could face them. Some were too horrific to retain and were mercifully reburied. The psychiatrist was aware that the girl might have to give evidence at a trial so had to be careful with the treatment. Some awful events had to be retained, but she could fix that later, well, help some anyway. There would almost certainly be a few nightmares along the way. She concentrated now on reviving her recollections of her childhood with her mother.

Phyllis Asher turned up every day to sit and talk with her daughter, reading teen magazines, chatting about clothes, hairstyles, makeup and girly things in general. In truth, Cathy knew more about some of these than her mother, but the point was that it was a bonding exercise, and it was working. Soon Cathy progressed to doing Phyllis’s face when she came, shaping her eyebrows and showing her different make-up effects. In just two weeks Phyllis was looking better than she had for years, sure, it was partly the joy of having her child back and the release that came with that, but the beauty lessons definitely helped.

Liz and Phyllis sat in conference after two weeks, both very pleased with the progress of the fortnight, and agreed to continue for a further two weeks, except that Cathy would be taken for occasional excursions outside.

One terrific development was that the trial of Dr. Adam had been held and the judge had accepted recorded evidence from Cathy on the grounds that she was still a minor and undergoing therapy for the mental and physical damage that had been inflicted on her. The other girls had testified; medical evidence had been submitted, and the result was that Adam had been sentenced to life imprisonment. Dan had told Liz it was unlikely that he would survive the sentence and, although professionals are not supposed to be vindictive, they agreed that it could not happen to anyone more deserving.

This meant that Liz was free to suppress some of the nastier memories in Cathy’s mind, which she could not see had any benefit to anybody, such as the episode in the cage. She was careful, though, not to extinguish events that could change the girl’s personality. She lessened the memory of the heroin highs without erasing them, so that they could be recalled but the attraction of the addiction was no longer the siren call that it had once been. The lapse of time also helped. Memories fade if not stirred up and Cathy had now been weaned off of methadone. The only medication she now used was a regular dosage of hormones.

Dealing with the sexual aspects of Cathy’s captivity was more difficult. Liz did not want to use a direct aversion therapy and run the risk of turning the kid off of sex for life, so she opted for a strategy of emphasising the girl’s liking for nice clothes and femininity over her sexual desires, reducing these to something like a routine that she was obliged to go through to reach her true goal of being beautiful. She hoped they would become something not unpleasant but necessary and not simply required by her captor to ensure her well-being. There was one thing Liz did not quail from doing and that was to depict Adam as the monster he was in Cathy’s mind. She hoped all this would take root and override the earlier mindset.

In parallel, Cathy’s mother began to take her on excursions into the world outside, finding she was very naive about most aspects of daily life, never having experienced much of it, and, if at all, only fleetingly. One of the first outings was to a salon for the regular female necessities and Cathy was over the moon. She told Phyllis straight after the session that this was what she wanted to do when she came home. Working as a beautician seemed a good fit given her already extensive practice. Phyllis was delighted with the serendipity of her choice of outing.

The visit to a salon, of course, became a regular destination. Other favourites were eating at alfresco cafes to watch the passing parade, going to the movies and, naturally, shopping. That soon proved not to be a one-way affair. Mrs. Asher had lost much of her appetite for dress and appearance during her lonely years. Cathy began to insist that her mother smartened herself up and forced her to buy more fashionable and younger styled clothes and shoes. At the rate the two of them spent money it was as well that Phyllis’s divorce settlement had been generous, although she had been frugal for the previous five years.

Liz and Phyllis had had a meeting after another fortnight had passed and agreed to carry on as before. Now it was six weeks since their first meeting when they once again sat down to talk. Liz was amazed at the visible improvement in Cathy’s mother. She looked ten years younger with her hair nicely done, her face lightly made up and an elegant plum-coloured suit with a skirt slightly above the knee. She could almost have been Cathy’s elder sister.

Liz eyed the other woman and said with a smile, “I’m not sure who’s getting the therapy here. I think your daughter is a good influence on you. You’re coming on pretty well yourself. I know she’s enjoying shaking you up because she’s told me.”

“It’s true,” said Phyllis. “I neglected myself for all those years and now she’s pulling me into line and making me take more care of myself, and I have to admit I’m enjoying it. I’m so glad I’ve got her back. Liz, when can I take her home?”

“Well, I think I’ve just about done all I can do. Her addiction seems to be under control, although you have to keep a constant watch because there’s always a danger of backsliding. Her sexual tendencies also appear to be more restrained, but only time will tell. I’ve had to be very careful there, so that I don’t turn her off altogether. I hope that living a normal life will give her a different perspective on it all.”

“Do you mean I can take her home now?”

Liz sighed. “Yes Phyllis, you can take her home. It’s your problem now, but I have to see her once a week for a while. If she’s going OK I’ll cut it to once a fortnight and then once a month. Let’s just see how it develops.”

Mrs. Asher positively beamed. “When can I take her?” she asked.

“How about this weekend?” replied Liz. “That’ll give you tomorrow and the day after to get ready and give me time to do all the paperwork and tell Cathy to get herself ready too.”

“As far as I’m concerned it can’t be soon enough. I’m sure it’ll do her a lot of good to be in a proper home.”

“Phyllis, I’m sure you’re right. It’ll do you both good. Oh, and I’ll want to see you at the same time as Cathy.”

“Why, Liz? I’m not the one you’re treating.”

“No, but she’s having such an obvious effect on you that I just want to keep an eye on you too. You may not realise it but this could be an awful strain on you. I want to make sure everything works out for the best.”

“I suppose I can’t complain about that. Well, let me go and break the news to my little girl. Then I’ll take her shopping, just for a change,” she said with a sly smile.

One of the things that made Liz slightly nervous was that in Phyllis’s mind Cathy appeared to be still a child. She didn’t quite seem to have grasped the effect of the five-nearly six now-year absence. It probably didn’t matter but she needed to watch it. She hoped it was only a manner of speech.

The next morning Liz sat down with Cathy for a heart-to-heart chat.

“Cathy dear, you’re going home very soon and I need to know that you’re happy with that and we’ve put some things in the proper context, so I’m going to ask you some questions. First I want to know how you feel about being changed from a boy into a girl.”

The girl thought deeply for about half a minute.

“If you asked me when I was a boy if I wanted to be a girl I would have said no, but I was only twelve and it wasn’t something I ever really thought about, but since it happened I’m glad now that it did. I still remember being with my Mum before and I know she loved me, but it’s different now. I think she likes me as well as loving me and it’s so good doing things together. I love my body now, and I’m comfortable in it. I think I’ve got a lovely shape and I like being pretty. It’s lots of fun picking the right clothes to make myself look good and making my face even prettier with a little make-up, and, best of all, I can help Mum to do the same. I can do things with her that a boy could never have done.”

She paused and thought some more. Liz just waited.

“Also, I know I missed out on a lot in the last five years and I want to catch up. When I see the magazines Mum brings there are so many things I want to learn. I already know I want to do a beautician’s course and then work in a salon. I want to learn ballroom dancing and cooking and dress-making and even housework. I want to be the best daughter my Mum could ever have, so I guess I do like being a girl. Of course, I had some practice before but I’m not sorry about that either.”

“OK. How do you feel about the heroin-the happy juice- now?”

Cathy actually shuddered before she spoke.

“I know I loved it before, but I think now that it made it easy for me to like things that weren’t much good for me. I don’t want that to happen again. I want to like things because “I” like them, not because some drug tells me to like them.”

“All right, what do you think about sex?”

“I love it. Oh, I know what you mean. You want to know if I still can’t wait to suck a cock or have somebody fuck me. Well, the answer is that now I would have to like them a lot before I did it. I don’t want to just have anybody like it was before, but somebody I really like, that would be lovely.”

Liz thought that these answers, while not perfect, showed that Cathy was now pretty sane and ready to go out in the world.

“What about going home?”

“Liz, I can’t wait. I know you’ve been very good to me, but this is still a hospital and my Mum needs me and I need her. I think she suffered more than I did and I know I can help her. We’ll be good together.”

With that, Liz knew the girl had to go home. She had done what she could do. Psychiatry is an imperfect science or art or whatever you want to call it, and she had done her best.

“Home on Saturday then,” said Liz with a sigh. “I’ll really miss you, you know. I’m very fond of you. I know, I know, I’ll see you every week for a while, but it’s not the same. Anyway, you have to look after your Mum.”

So Saturday came and Cathy went home with her mother to the start of a new life, Liz waving goodbye with tears in her eyes. She knew it was unprofessional to get so close to a patient, but couldn’t help herself. Her heart still ached at what had been done to that child.

Inevitably, other concerns took more prominence as the weeks went by. Cathy and her mother turned up for their weekly appointment, both happy and full of life. The girl would relate all the things she was learning with zest and tell of her amazement at some of the strange things people did. Phyllis looked better and better as the ghosts of the past receded and her daughter made her dress smarter and younger, hair styled nicely and tinted. She would tell Liz how some nights Cathy would sneak into her bed and sleep cuddled up against her and what fun it was to teach her how to cook and just do things together.

The weekly appointments became fortnightly then monthly appointments until finally the psychiatrist told them they needed only come in six months, just as a check that everything was fine. Ten months had passed since Cathy went home and now she was eighteen, no longer a minor, so Liz could not justify spending too much time on her.

When the pair reappeared after six months Liz was amazed at the transformation in Phyllis Asher. She had had a facelift, was using more make-up, and had grown her hair to midway down her back. She looked like a beautiful woman in her twenties and was dressed accordingly in a scarlet mini-dress with a low-cut neckline and matching sandals with at least 4-inch heels. Frankly she looked like a hooker. Cathy was dressed in similar fashion but in black, cleavage showing boldly. Men would notice when she leaned forward. Somehow it looked more appropriate on her.

Liz gaped. “What’s going on? Phyllis, you’ve really changed. Tell me what all this is about.”

“Liz, I think I’d better tell you. Mum’s still a bit shy,” said Cathy.

Liz gaped at the older of the two tarts in front of her. “Shy?” she thought. “Oh, yeah?”

“A few months after I got home, one night when I sneaked into her bed, Mum was crying in her sleep, so I thought if I licked her pussy it might cheer her up. She didn’t wake up until she had an orgasm, so it obviously worked, but when she realised what I had done she yelled at me and cried and said she was scared that, if she told you, you would take me away again, so she made me promise not to do it again and that we wouldn’t tell you.”

“But I knew she had really liked it or she wouldn’t have cum, and when she was crying again one night I licked her again. She was crying because she hadn’t had any sex since she and my father were divorced, so she actually really needed what I was doing for her. She said it was wrong, but when she was asleep she couldn’t stop me, could she? And I knew she couldn’t resist and it was actually good for her and she really liked it after a while because it really did feel nice for her and I said I’d help her.”

“See, I’d started learning ballroom dancing about that time. I love those sexy dresses and there are some really dishy men there. I told you before that I like sex very much, so I gave some of the men that I liked blowjobs, if we had had a really good dance session. After that I was never short of partners. Then I got Mum to come along too, because it would help her to meet men and maybe make some friends. She was very shy at first until I showed her how to suck meat lollies and now she has no trouble getting partners either. It’s made her much sexier and she wants to look younger. So you see, it’s my fault, but I think she looks fabulous and she doesn’t cry in her sleep any more, because every now and again one of the men goes home with her.”

“Is this true?” asked Liz, thoroughly gobsmacked.

“Oh yes,” replied Phyllis, giggling like a teenager. “I’m much better now. We go out and have such fun together and we enjoy life and men. Don’t we darling? Things couldn’t be better.”

Liz felt a strange tingle go through her and she could have sworn she heard an evil, sardonic laugh from somewhere indescribable.

THE END

My usual thanks to Kristina LS for editing, suggestions and just putting up with my faux pas (that’s a plural).
Joanne

P.S. Will grovel for comments. Rude ones also accepted.