Prince Taylor is now getting used to the new school and all its strange ways. He is worried that the school is changing him, and he is becoming something he would have hated a few months ago

Madam Criben took me to Blake's nursery room. I started crying when I realized that this would be my new room. I told the old lady that I was not a baby and did not want to wear diapers all the time. Madam Criben just smiled back and told me that I only wet the bed. I did not need them at day, so I “could keep my pretty panties”. As for the nursery, this was my new room, so I best get used to it. Then she went. Blake hugged me and told me that he thought that Madam Criben loved taunting us. He did not understand why the law allowed this. I managed to stop crying and told him that I would just make the best of it. My grandmother told me once that she learned something as a queen, and that was to pick your fights.

I will be honest, living in a nursery was not that bad. Miss Eva even bought me magazines about horses, kittens, bunnies and puppies. When she saw that I had not caused a lot of trouble for a long time, she gave me a new stuffed animal that I could sleep with. It was a pretty unicorn. I loved it. I never was so bothered about stuffed animals before, but now the unicorn and my doll were the best things I had. I did not consider myself a baby. I had time to observe Blake. He wore diapers all the time and used a pacifier all the time. He even had a baby bottle. Blake was nearly 11 years old and was treated like a two-year-old. It was then that I noticed all the other boys wore diapers as well. They all lived in girls' baby nurseries. This made me wonder if this would happen to me. Why would this school treat us like babies? Blake told me that he was not allowed to tell me however I would get the talk when they thought that I was ready.

Blake constantly complained about the sissy treatment. I on the other hand did not complain. I figured that it did not help. If you complained, you would be spanked. I also noticed that you were rewarded when you went along with the strange things they asked us to do. I also figured this was the reason why I was not told to wear diapers and be a baby sissy. I figured that there was very little a 10-year-old could do. I was now getting used to dresses and tights and panties. When I left this place, I would forget all this, pretend it never happened and go back to being a boy.

In a way, Blake confused me. He protested all the time and yet I would see him play a lot with the baby toys. I never played with them. I did not understand how he thought of stacking blocks on top of each other was fun. I preferred to use crayons and colour kittens and bunnies in a jumbo colouring book. This was one reward I got if I was nice and obedient. I got a new colouring book when I wanted one.

Blake was quiet one afternoon when we were in our bedroom… I mean nursey. Then he said, “I know you laughed when you first saw me because I am a sissy. I just wondered are we still friends? I think it was my mother that persuaded your mother to send you here. I can understand if you hate me.” I told Blake that I knew his mom spoke with my parents. I hated coming here. However, now I am getting used to it. The other boys are also nice. It's also nice I am not treated special because I am a prince. I could be normal here. Black laughed and told me “Did you take a look at yourself? You're wearing a dress and your bedroom is a nursery. We are not normal! Everyone wants us to be sissies!”

I was given a new girls' school uniform. My first extra class was about good manners. The lesson began with the basics of greeting adults. "Good morning, Madam Criben" the teacher demonstrated with an exaggerated smile. We were expected to replicate this performance flawlessly. Then came the lesson on the curtsy. The teacher demonstrated the perfect curtsy, her movements precise and controlled. She explained the importance of showing respect and grace through this age-old tradition. I couldn't help but roll my eyes discreetly, thinking about how unnecessary it all seemed.

As we awkwardly attempted to mimic the curtsy, it became apparent that none of us were born ballerinas. Arms flailed, skirts twisted, and stifled giggles filled the room. The teacher's stern expression tightened, and I couldn't help but wonder if she secretly enjoyed our discomfort. In my 10-year-old mind, I couldn't grasp why a simple "hello" and a wave couldn't convey the same message. The idea of showcasing curtsying seemed more like a recipe for embarrassment than a display of refined manners.

Then we had what they call a testimony class. One of the older boys was encouraged to tell his story and how he felt.

“I started here 6 years ago when I was 7 years ago. I do not know why my parents sent me here. My parents have always been hippy liberals and I suppose they wanted to bring out my feminine side. I noticed some boys have a problem being here. I will admit that I never had a problem I do not care if I am wearing a dress or not. I admit that I am a sissy. I like looking pretty and doing girl things. There are things I did not understand like being treated like a baby and sometimes it seems like the school wants to embarrass us. Maybe it was to help me be humble. I was also told now I can potty train so I can use big girl panties. I was also given a choice to go home or continue at school. If I wanted to have a woman's body, the school would help me. I have been getting puberty blockers for some time. I decided to keep the body I have. I want to stay at the Victorian Virtue Institute. I have friends here and I was told that I could help new boys settle in.”

I think it took the boy a lot of courage to admit that he was a sissy and wanted to stay here. Blake could not understand him. He told me that later when we were alone in our room. He also said that he thought I was wise. He noticed that I was very obedient and no longer protested or argued when you are told to do. “Pretending to be a sissy and liking it means that you will get to go home earlier,” he said. I just smiled back. I was not pretending to accept what happened to me. I just did not want to get punished. I also did not mind most of it. I just had to be a sissy here. When I was allowed to go home, I would be a boy.

Madam Criben seemed to enjoy showing me what was written about me on social media. I do not know how they continue to find anything to write about me. Most was speculation. They wondered if this school would rehabilitate me. I thought this was funny. You would think that I murdered someone. Today she showed me something interesting. It was a comment from my mother as to why I was here. “The Victorian Virtue Institute is a small but professional place where our son can become a better person. The school uses a special unique method that breaks down gender behaviour and norms. Prince Taylor will be a better person who will get a good education as well as support him in creative and inspirational ways.” My mother had no further comments. They had a specialist giving her view that was that she thought treating boys like small girls was extreme and could only be considered a punishment. I started crying after I read this. I imagined that my parents were having a lot of problems with sending me here. I also cried because I missed them.

Blake noticed that I cried a lot and I did not know what to say. I never cried much before I came here. Now I cried over the smallest things. It made me think that I was becoming much softer and more like a wimp. A part of me was telling myself that I should remember to be tough and not cry over the smallest thing. I also knew that I could tell myself a lot of things, but at the end of the day, my tears had a mind of their own. Blake could see that I was deep in my thoughts and told me not to worry. Maybe I was changing. Being treated like a sissy boy is bound to change me. I snapped back and said that I was not changing.

I decided to write a letter to Julia and thank her for her letter. I told her that things were fine here but I missed home. I joked that the one thing I did not miss was the paparazzi. It was good that they did not take pictures of me. This made me tell her about the strange things here like me wearing dresses, panties and tights. She would love it here as the place looked like a living dollhouse. In the end, I joked again and said that she should not worry about me borrowing her dresses. When I was allowed to come home at Christmas, I would be a boy!

It surprised me that I spent time writing a letter to my sister. A few months ago, I would not give her the time of the day. I was now worried about what this place was doing to me. I needed more control in my life. I figured out what I could do. Every day, Miss Eva put out the dress that she wanted me to wear or the school uniform. I told her I could understand about the school uniform, but when we did not have classes, could I pick what I wanted to wear? Miss Eva smiled and said she liked my enthusiasm but I was not ready for that yet. I still needed help as I was still new here and needed yet to learn things, such as how to coordinate colours. I let out a sigh as this meant it would be a long time before I could decide anything.

The next special class was how to act more like a girl. We learned that when wearing a dress, it's often considered elegant and ladylike to sit with your legs together, maintaining a modest and graceful posture. When we were standing, we should distribute our weight evenly on both feet, keeping a straight but relaxed posture. When walking, we should take measured steps, and let our arms swing naturally. Avoid exaggerated movements, and instead, move with poise and confidence. Cultivating a sense of grace in our posture and movements can enhance our overall presence and project a polished, feminine image. I could understand the bit about keeping my legs together. I had no wish for people to look up my dress or skirt.

I was changing! I was becoming obedient and submissive. I was letting these people dress me like a girl. I was letting these people try to brainwash me. I was becoming more and more like a sissy boy every day. A few months ago, I would have beaten up a boy like me. Why was I letting these people brainwash me? Why did I do what they told me to do? Deep down is this what I wanted? Did I like it?

We soon had Christmas holidays where we were allowed to go home. So Criben said we should have some fun before we had holidays. Her idea was that we would go to a Christmas market in a small village. I did not want to do this. I told her the paparazzi would be there and everyone would see me. Madam Criiben said that wouldn't happen, besides I would be wearing a long winter coat, so no one could see the dress. She was right. The coat was a long navy blue that did not show the dress. They could see that I had white tights and Mary Jane shoes. She was wrong about the paparazzi. They were there taking one picture after another picture. I think some boys liked the attention, but I knew what this meant. These pictures would be in every newspaper and all over the internet. It was embarrassing and humiliating, which was probably the reason I was paraded around in public. It did not help that it became so overwhelming that I started to cry.

When we were back at the school, I clutched my doll and sat on the bed. I felt so ashamed and embarrassed. Miss Eva came and sat on my bed. She thought that I did very well. Most boys that started here kicked and screamed when they first went in public. She thought that I was brave. She also noticed that I was nice to the paparazzi and did not get mad at them like I did before I came here. I did not know what to say. She did not know how I felt. Knowing how social media worked, I knew that I would be teased and ridiculed. The one thing that consoled me was that the long winter coat covered a lot.

It was shortly after this that I had a therapy affirmation session with Miss Eva,
“You should be proud of yourself,” she said, “Since you came here, you have had a hard first few days. This is normal for boys who start here. However, unlike other boys, you have quickly adjusted. You do not complain and are very obedient. You are nice with the other boys. It's been a long time since you had a temper tantrum. You may not have noticed it, but you are changing. You are embracing being a sissy boy. This may be scary for you and something that you do not want to be. Let me tell you what I think. I think you are a natural sissy boy. You were meant to be a sissy. You must think about if this is true. Was your behaviour before you came here because you were frustrated that you were not who you were supposed to be? Are you happier now?

My first reaction to this was that she was speaking nonsense.

It was time to go home for Christmas. I told Blake that I was looking forward to it. I missed my family and I could wear my old boy clothes. Maybe my parents would allow me to go back to my old school. Blake laughed at me and told me that I had much to learn. I think that he was just trying to scare me.