Andrea and the Lottery

Introduction

Author’s note - In July 1997 the first part of a novella called ‘The Lottery’ was published by Diane Christy. It was a text file that appeared to have come from one of the ALT.SEX newsgroups of the time. It is still available on the TG part of nifty.org website for Gay stories. There appeared to be little in the way of editing and it was in most respects an unsatisfactory read.

In its then format the theme of coercive control of women by what was essentially a magical transformation was and is very unappealing to me. The emphasis on transgendering in order to smoke tobacco more, seems vaguely obscene in today’s society. None the less, it is appropriate to acknowledge the file as being the initial stimulus for this story.

This story has no connection with a story of the same name written by Dark Vision and published on Storiesonline in 2002.

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living of dead is entirely co-incidental. If the characters resemble anyone a hundred years in the future then I will accept applause for my considerable forethought, but will not be able to acknowledge it!

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War, particularly war without restraint, surely, ends in outright butchery. The protagonists may descend into a savagery and bloodlust that soon becomes self-perpetuating.

The twenty-second century had moved on from machete wielding warriors hacking each other to bits, or carpet bombing of civilians. The World had seen several attempts by tyrants to find a final solution to what was perceived as a problem. The demagogue rulers became consumed by their egos. Sycophants inflated the outrageous pomposity of the demagogues by pandering to every whim their paymaster dreamed up.

Unalloyed hatred came to the world in 2150 or so. The politicians in a group of neighbouring small nations showed monumental ignorance by instructing a psychologically unstable, but brilliant virologist to create a virus that would solve all the problems they thought they had. These problems were perceived as being larger countries which appeared to the despotic leaders, to be exploiting them.

This virologist had been slighted repeatedly by many intelligent women who saw him accurately as a misogynist bigot. They would no more have shared a bed with him than with the despotic leaders who flattered him.

After several years the politicians were delighted to receive the vials of virus from their creator.

The vials were transported very carefully to the capitals of nations seen as their oppressors, and were released into air conditioning systems of large buildings.

Some seven to ten days later women who had visited the buildings started to fall ill. The virus only affected women and girls for reasons that were not understood, and being highly infective, females throughout those cities fell ill. With a lethality of 98%. Those cities quickly became populated only by men and boys.

The virus mutated several times and spread throughout the World. The only women who survived were post-menopausal.

The imminent loss of the entire human population in a matter of a few decades was not lost on the patriarchs who remained alive and perhaps the only benefit from the ghastly episode was that nations faced with extinction began to co-operate.

So many things were tried. Artificial wombs were discarded as an idea as there were no fertile eggs to grow in them. No human eggs existed and taking stem cells from the elderly women who remained alive and encouraging the cells to grow and divide was encouraging, but growing those human foetuses in the wombs of domestic animals failed miserably. Where some growth occurred the virus recognised the XX genetic make up of the foetus and it was infected and died.

In the face of human extinction more and more radical proposals were explored.

It seemed that the virus recognised human cells that had the standard XX chromosome compliment. Boys with only one functioning X chromosome were unaffected. After numerous failed experiments a slight hope for the future emerged. If a small part of two other X chromosomes were bound onto one of the other chromosome pairs then this was not recognised by the virus. The gene splicing carried out to create the reduced X chromosome avoided the problems associated with the XXY karyotype, but the foetuses developed in laboratories had no future as there were no wombs for them to develop in.

Other research teams found that if stem cells produced in laboratories consisting of cells of the new configuration were infused into teenage boys, then over time; the boys would be feminised and healthy boy babies could be born some years later. All female embryos failed to develop.

It is out of this scenario that The Lottery was created.

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Andrew and his parents were summonsed by the strident tones used at the start of the television program which announced the results of The Lottery. It was compulsory viewing for anyone with a boy aged between fourteen and seventeen. Boys of that age were grown enough to withstand the rigours of feminisation and would be fertile females at its completion.

Andrew had been through the process once already. He was fifteen and knew that his chance of being caught were very low. He did know that he was one of many thousands of boys in his district of the World State that remained in the draw after an initial sieving of the contestants, but remained unflustered for the most part

He bounced onto the sofa beside his mother just as the chimes finished.

The announcer, a particularly attractive woman, intoned the reason for The Lottery. The screen showed the quota for each district. The numbers were large but remained small by comparison with the numbers of boys in his cohort at school. Andrew had heard this all before and switched off for much it.

The announcer continued with warnings that trying to avoid treatment was a capital offence, as was the offence of a parent or other person helping a boy to avoid feminisation. This reminder sent a shiver down Andrew’s spine and probably the spines of his parents and many other parents throughout the populated World.

‘Winners’ were reminded that they should not leave their homes from the declaration until the following morning. The medical teams would be with each ‘Winner’ within the hour. Anyone interfering with the work of the team would result in summary execution.

Seventy-six boys were to be chosen in his district and as the first screen of ten boys names and identity numbers were read out, Andrew recognised one of his particular friends names.

“I know him” Andrew said rather unnecessarily to his parents.

Andrew knew his identity card number off by heart, but still put it face up on the table in front of him.

The second screen of ten numbers rolled by without any recognition, as did the third.

When the fourth screen appeared, Andrew immediately recognised his name and shortly after; his identity number.

A numbing shock seeped over him. His father let out a long sigh and a small sob came out of his mother’s mouth before she regained her composure; knowing that she would have to be the steadfast support that Andrew would need in the coming weeks and months.

“I am going to double check the result”, Andrew said; but the announcer had moved on and the next screen had appeared.

Strangely his mind quieted enough to be even dispassionate for the remaining two screens of results. He noted a boy who he knew slightly that was all.

The program ended with similar strident notes of the World anthem before a continuity announcer returned the viewers to normal programming.

Andrew’s father turned the television off when a particularly banal comedy program started.

“We shall have a cup of tea to wait for our visitors”, Andrew’s mother said with a jollity that was totally manufactured. She had been through the same process some twenty years previously and had memories she chose not to recollect often. All those memories crowded in on her now, but she managed to suppress them to support her son.

Only five minutes elapsed before the doorbell rang. “They must have been waiting outside.”

Dad got up uneasily and went to the door and opened it.

“Is this the home of Andrew John Bright?”

Andrew’s father nodded.

Two armed men stepped into their living room, followed by a man in scrubs.

“Is this your identity card?” he asked Andrew, seeing it discarded don the table.

Andrew nodded, dumbly.

The card was fitted into a card reader and Andrew’s face and details appeared on a screen with the word ‘Winner’ in red across the screen.

One of the guards pushed an epipen of sedative into his leg the following second and Andrew collapsed without further ado onto a trolley that seemed to appear from nowhere. He was alert but unable to move any limbs or his head.

With his mother and father sobbing on the sofa that Andrew had so recently occupied, he was unceremoniously wheeled out of the house and into a waiting van that was parked outside.

Various neighbours looked out of their open doors and windows but all knew that to interfere would mean summary execution. None were foolish enough to do so.

Andrew was moved onto a bed of sorts in the van.

“I am Doctor Shaw” the medic told Andrew. “You will be able to hear and see everything but will not be able to move until I inject an antidote to the muscle relaxant that you have received.”

“Firstly I will check your DNA with a blood sample. It is not uncommon for boys to be substituted. This infusion is programmed exactly for your DNA. Any other boy, except an identical twin, would die if this was used on them.”

Whirrs and clicks of the machinery in the van provided a backdrop to the quiet in the van. “You are who you say you are.” The doctor said with unnecessary cheeriness after ten minutes.

“I am going to cut away you left sleeve and insert a cannula into a vein in your elbow.”

All Andrew felt was a coldness as the infusion of stem cells were fed slowly into his blood supply.

“You will have a yellow disc attached to your upper arm. It contains a syringe driver, a supply of nucleic acids of various sorts and an alarm. Attempting to remove it will lead to serious blood loss. Anyone removing it for you will be committing a capital offence. You must not wear any garment that covers your left arm until the driver has done its work. When the light goes out, the disc will bleep and fall off. It can be discarded at that point.”

During the hour the van remained outside their house Andrew’s parents looked through the thick manilla envelope that had been left with them by the armed guards.

The first thing they noticed was a new identity card in the name of Andrea Jane Bright. The old card had been taken and was already shredded.

There was also a cash card loaded with substantial sum to provide a new wardrobe, and for decorations to Andrea’s room. It was activated by Andrea’s thumbprint.

There were pamphlets to explain how to support their new daughter, but these were left unread for now.

In less that an hour Andrew returned to the house. There really wasn’t any difference to speak of in him except that he was sleepy from the sedative even with after being given the antidote.

“She will be a very healthy young woman.” the doctor said on his way out.
“Any problems and please use the helpline shown on the front of your envelope.”

Apart from the sleeve of his sweatshirt being missing and the yellow disc attached to his upper arm, there was no sign of any change in their son. “Has it worked?” Andrew said to his mother.

“There will be no sign for a few days but I have never known it to fail.”

Andrew/Andrea was constantly falling asleep so his parents guided him to bed, early though it was. It was a school day the following day and missing school as a winner of the lottery was not a reasonable excuse.

Andrea woke the following morning feeling fully refreshed. He/she felt no different from previously so put on his normal school wear except that he couldn’t find his school sweatshirt. After showering and went down for breakfast to find that his mother had carefully removed the left sleeve and had hemmed the opening carefully.

His parents did not mention last evening’s events other than to ask how he had slept and after his normal breakfast. Andrew went off to catch the school bus with his new identity card that said very obviously ‘Female’.

His card was read by the machine at the entrance to school and a message appeared ‘ Report to Principal’ on the card reader.

Various students, both boys and girls looked across to Andrew as he crossed the school’s thoroughfares to get to the Principal’s suite of offices. No one spoke to him on his solitary journey.

Outside the Principal’s office sat other boys with their left sleeves missing and yellow discs attached to their upper arms that glowed with a green LED. A couple had recently been crying if the tear stained faces were anything to go by. Others looked serious but resigned to their fate.

They were called in as a group and sat nervously on a row of seats put there ready for the purpose. The Principal and his senior woman deputy principal were accompanied by three final year girl students who had had transitioned two years before.

The deputy principal introduced everyone present. Not all the boys knew each other so they were encouraged to form a self-help group. The senior girls had volunteered to be mentors and were also introduced. Andrea/Andrew was allocated to Michaela who Andrew vaguely remembered as Michael from his first year there.

Mrs Trubshaw, Joan Trubshaw was to give a detailed description how the school was involved in the process each boy was undergoing. This had not been done before as it really wasn’t necessary for boys who were not transitioning. She guided them to a small tutorial suite and began her explanation.

“The process is not painful at all. Sometimes you will feel a bit itchy as your skin changes but we have creams to help. At other times parts of your skin will feel loose. This will correct itself in time.”

Andrew was perplexed as to how the changes taking place in him were happening so fast. Joan Trubshaw explained as best she could.

“The cocktail of nucleic acids you received activate a number of the dormant genes already in the nuclei of your cells. They enhance the vestigial organs in you already. You already have a small amount of breast tissue. You will just get a lot more. You already have a prostate gland. This will grow substantially in the next month, but a uterus of a fourteen year old girl is little bigger than a golf ball, so it is not a massive change. Yes, your testicles will need to be reabsorbed and ovaries form from the germ bud tissue left behind, but you cannot become pregnant until you are eighteen so there is plenty of time for these final items to develop correctly.”

“The infusion also contains RNA to switch off a number of genes that were working to make you adult males.”

“You will need to use the transition toilets near the Principal’s office. You will need to go more often in the next few weeks so we have a pass that allows you to be excused from lessons. These toilets or perhaps it would be better to call them restrooms, have chairs and various hygiene products to help you.”

The three girl mentors had come with the small group and were standing behind them. They wore the short plaid skirt, shirt and sweatshirt typical of their year group.

“How many of you know what a girl looks like without any clothes.?”

Only one boy put his hand up.

“Petra, this your turn to show off.” and Petra undressed in a very practical way. Her skirt unclipped and was folded onto the chair. Her sweatshirt and shirt followed it, and they was a bit of a gasp before her panties and bra went the same way.

“The development of her breasts is the most obvious sign above her waist, but her hair has become finer after transition and her skin needs daily maintenance if it is to look nice. Your mentors will show you the basics of makeup and skin care.”

“Her waist has narrowed during transition and her hips have grown wider allowing her to give birth more easily in the future. Please sit on this chair and open your legs widely please Petra.”

Mrs Trubshaw was matter of fact about her description of Petra’s pubic area.

“As you progress with your transition your penises will shrink until only a tiny bulge remains called the clitoris. Similarly your testicles will shrink and be reabsorbed into your body cavity. On the underside of your scrotum is a raised line. This is where the folds of what might have been a pair of labia sealed up when you were developing in your mother’s womb. This line will feel very itchy as it unseals to expose your inner and outer labia.”

“Please spread your labia, Petra.”

Petra did as she was told. Her labia were dark pink and delicate looking. In the circumstances with six ‘boys’ looking at her private parts, her labia filled with blood and stood erect. Moisture seeped from within her open vagina and her labia glistened.

“These are the signs that Petra is becoming sexually aroused. You may be able to glimpse her cervix. The opening to her womb at the end of her vagina. It is a small mound that remains moist. It has a small hole in it that will carry your partner’s sperm into your wombs to fertilize your eggs.”

All the way through Mrs Trubshaw was using a laser pointer to demonstrate on Petra’s spread thighs.

Petra looked rather relieved when she was told that she could close her legs, but Mrs Trubshaw was not finished with her yet.

“Petra, here is a tampon. Please demonstrate how to use it and tell us all what you are doing and why.”

“Tampons are inserted into the vagina during monthly periods. They absorb the mixture of blood and fluids that comes from the womb when its surface renews itself every month. You open the wrapper like so, and insert the domed end into your vagina with the end of your finger. There are cardboard applicators if you prefer. The coloured thread remains outside your body and is used to pull the soiled tampon out of your vagina. The diagrams in a packet of tampons shows it all clearly. It will be difficult for you to remember everything from this morning but we three mentors will show you as often as you need until your monthly cycle is well established.”

Now. Petra, please turn round and bend over. I have some wet wipes here. Please demonstrate how to wipe yourself hygienically after you have been to the toilet. Boys … and this is the last time I will use the word with you … please take particular note. Petra is wiping herself from front to back, not the other way round. If you learn nothing else this morning, please remember that.”

Petra was ably to stand up and her skirt put back in place.

Kerri-Ann … one of the transitioning boys asked why Petra had not put on panties.

“I am happy without them. We are expected to have sex regularly until we are eighteen and leave school. We have a contraceptive injection for prevent conception. There is only about one girl to every four boys in this school so you will be expected to have sex to support the boys.

“When you are eighteen your contraception stops you can either set up home with a permanent partner in a home of your own, join a polyandric marriage or enter a polyamorous group. Alternatively you can remain in a dormitory and play the field, as it were. Whatever life you choose, you will be expected to have three successful pregnancies. Contraception is illegal for you until after that time. Forced conception is one option that has been used from time to time.”

Mrs Trubshaw mentioned the rule that had been drummed into them as boys. Any boys who were transitioning but were still wearing boy uniforms without a sleeve were protected. Rudeness, bullying or propositioning before the transition was complete would result in the offending boy being feminised within 24 hours of the incident happening. Honest questions were encouraged even to the point of showing intimately the progress that had been made.

One final point. We need to photograph you every first of the month to see the progress that has taken place. We need you naked and photograph you front and back so I need you to undress.

The mentors were given cameras and when each boy was standing naked with their hands over their genitals, the mentors guided them to put their hands at their sides and photographed them front and back and with their legs wide apart, then again with tape measures around their chests waists and hips.

“We are really pleased to have some new girls in our midst, and we will make the transition as enjoyable as possible for you. Please put your clothes back on and return to your lessons. You are very welcome to come to school in girls clothes as soon as you wish, once you have been out to spend some of your transition cash cards on a new wardrobe. I look forward to seeing you here next month.”

It is strange how an event so tumultuous for the individual can be so insignificant for the school population. No one appeared to take any particular notice of the changelings, although everyone did, of course. Being ignored was almost as strange as the thought of being dressed in bra and panties.

The students met at lunch time with their mentors. All had good appetites as the change took lots of energy. The apparent zero interest from the rest of the school was deemed quite normal by the mentors. When Andrea tried to speak to some of her old friends, they were quite tongue tied. They were reticent to be talking to a changeling in case it was deemed harassment. Everyone knew the consequences of that.

Andrea was surprised to see her old friends in a new light as potential partners rather than the young men she knew. Perhaps her head would change faster than her body?

The journey home on the bus and the evening were uneventful. Perhaps the largest part of this story for Andrea is how much of it was uneventful.

In the morning, after another good night’s sleep she looked down at her penis and thought that it had shrunk a little. Her balls seemed softer and less defined in their sac. Perhaps her nipples were a little bigger and darker, but it could all have been imagination.

The clothing question came up at breakfast. “I know you would probably like to go shopping sooner rather than later, but we don’t know the sizes you will need when your transition is over. We need to wait patiently.”

A week later showed that the imagined changes were real. A puffy patch had formed around each nipple and that nipple and its areola was darker and more prominent. Her scrotum seemed a mass of folds and it was difficult to discern the shape of her testicles now. The ridge down her scrotum was more prominent and was a little swollen. Her gait seemed a little different and it showed that her hips were wider now and her waist smaller.

After another week the changes were clearly more obvious to anyone who chose to look. Her skin was clearer and needed a moisturiser for comfort. Her scrotum was beginning to split into two folds and her penis was now only the size of a thimble. Hips, waist and joints like wrists were becoming more feminine.

The lunch meetings showed that progress was largely the same in all six girls. The mentors offered advice when requested. Make up tips were demonstrated but life continued largely as it had done previously.

The only high point, if it can be called that was in a History lesson, Andrea’s yellow disc bleeped loudly, the light went out and it fell off her arm with a small clattering noise. The class laughed and applauded at the surprising interruption. Even the teacher smiled, before resuming the lesson. “Put the disc in the bin Andrea.”

The first Monday morning of each month was the time for assessment. A doctor examined each girl and pronounced that the transition was going ahead as normal. All would become healthy young women and would make healthy babies.

The photographs showed just how far the transitions had gone. New hair was softer and more luxuriant. Body hair followed the female pattern now with only fine down on legs and arms,

They girls were warned that full intercourse would be impossible for several months, but that masturbation was to be encouraged and mutual masturbation with each other or the mentors was both pleasure and desirable.

Michaela, Andrea’s mentor removed her skirt. She had no panties on and started to rub her clitoris with small circular movements. She encouraged Andrea to sit with her and to take on the task of rubbing Michaela’s nubbin. After a few minutes Michaela stretched over to rub Andrea’s developing crotch but didn’t enter her vagina as yet. In minutes everyone was pleasuring each other. It was only after the bell had gone for the start of another period, that Mrs. Trubshaw motioned the girls to wind up their activities, clean up with wet wipes and return to class.

“I think I might do without panties altogether in a few weeks”, Andrea whispered to her pairing Samantha. “Me too. It is too much fun being without them.” Michaela looked back over her shoulder when she heard this comment. She had knowing smile.”

Next monthly meeting followed the same pattern. Each of the new girls arrived in a small cup size bra and their boy uniforms looked rather ill fitting.

“It is time for you all to go shopping. You have the rest of the day off. Your mothers have already been told and they will meet you in Reception. Your mentors also have the day off you help you choose the best clothes for you. We can predict your sizes very accurately now that you are three months into transition. Andrea, you will have a 36, 24, 36 figure and your C cups will make you very desirable indeed. Samantha, you will be 34, 24, 35 and your B cup size will go with your 5’3” height very well. Tomorrow I expect to see you here in girls clothes looking stunningly attractive. Just allow us to complete the measurements and photos and you can be on your way.

None of the six of us had any self-consciousness now, so we stripped off without ceremony and posed provocatively for the camera, inhaling hard to show off our new breasts to best effect.

“Girls clothes tomorrow” I said to myself. I can hardly believe that it is only a little over three months since The Lottery and here I am looking forward to getting a whole bale of girls clothes.

“36C-24-36. That’s a wow from me!” was her mother’s fist comment. The clothes shops are geared up to providing everything a young lady will need even though you don’t fill out the garments fully yet. If your bust becomes bigger or smaller than predicted the shops will change them.”

“First we go to a hair stylist to make the best of what you have already, then to the shopping arcade. Your kit of a basic set of cosmetics arrived yesterday from the Government. I was not supposed to tell you until it was decided that you were ready. We don’t need any cosmetics or skin preparations today. You can decide what you would prefer later, but the large cosmetics and perfume companies fall over themselves to provide free samples of their wares to all the newly created girls. You have a bumper bundle of things to try over the next few days.”

I had been given a time slot at a particular hair stylist with Samantha. Our stylists mulled over the styles that could be made to work with the hair we had already.. I couldn’t really choose, but Michaela and Mum had the pleasure of deciding for me. I was satisfied with a pageboy cut that framed my face. Michaela and Samantha’s mum had to opt for hair extensions to make enough out of her hair. This took much longer so we moved onto the shops without them, but I was pleased to see Samantha the following morning with shoulder length blond ringlets. It suited her small frame beautifully.

The shops had bundles of school clothes already set out for us. Tops, bras, knickers and skirts bagged up ready. Tights and school sweatshirts, compulsory sports kits including sports bras added to the heap of bags. Various shoes for day wear and different sports. There wasn’t any need to make choices. The expectations off the school was the deciding factor. Everything was sorted into the correct size and was sent by taxi to our two homes where the fathers were available to receive the bags. The cash card took a real hit, but we were far from finished.

Lunch provided a respite from the mad dash round the shops. Eventually I decided to accept the easy option of a stylist and personal shopper to choose a core wardrobe for me. She worked tirelessly bring what were said to be essentials items for any young woman to appear presentable in public. Shorts, skirts, jeans and the like, and what seemed to be several dozen tops in various colours and styles. They appeared, then disappeared into the mass of carrier bags that built up around us. Swimwear was a revelation. Tiny garments that managed to conceal what was important without concealing what should be on display, was a revelation. Shaving my mons and labia would be a must before wearing such a garment!

The whole thing was quite exhausting even for a girl (did I say girl?) of my age.
The taxi home was packed high with bags and the driver helped unload it all into our house.
Somewhat to my surprise, my drawers and hanging cupboard were empty. All my male clothes had been bundled up and collected by the authorities.

We only unpacked what would be needed for school in the morning, had a takeaway pizza and headed for bed.

I think the school tried to make our transitions as ordinary as possible. Samantha and I walked round the school arm-in-arm often. Being approached in corridors and asked to lift our skirts was both commonplace and accepted as normal. Our white bracelets, that replaced the absent sleeve and its glowing disc, prevented boys from saying too much or from touching. We would need to be signed off by the medics and have our yellow bracelets before anyone could touch us intimately, except each other of course.

On Friday a particularly obnoxious young boy approached Samantha and I. He asked to see Samantha’s progress and she lifted her skirt for him. With an unpleasant grin he started to assault her both physically and verbally. He had his hand between her legs and groped her.

In short order Michaela and several other seniors had him flat on the ground face down. His verbal assault continued unabated, and he spat in Samantha’s direction repeatedly. Samantha was in tears, and remained sobbing even after the boy had been anaesthetised by the security staff.

The boy’s father had set him up to this escapade because of his own bitterness and hate. He had been widowed some months before and his grief had built up in him.

Six months later Samantha and I met Joanna. She was grovelingly apologetic for her outburst. She had been taken to a forced feminisation centre and treated against her will. In the end she accepted the girl role and seemed much happier for it.

Looking at Joanna I was moved to see that she had only a little breast development. “How old are you now, Joanna?”

“I am just thirteen, she replied quietly.”
“How is it that you have been feminised into a girl and haven’t reached fourteen?”
“When the feminisation is a forced one it can happen at any age.”… she replied. I am the only thirteen year old girl in the school. My father was euthanised after I assaulted you. He was full of bitterness and it was a blessing in disguise, but he was my only relative, and good or bad; I miss him most dreadfully.”

“Where do you live, and who looks after you I asked incredulously?”

“I live with foster parents. They are paid to provide for me with money from the government, but there is no love there. I do miss people who love me.”

The catch in her voice became a sob, and a sob became uncontrolled weeping.

Both Samantha and I put our arms round her frail very feminine body and watched as the tears gradually abated.

I looked over at Sam and we both nodded. We had found a project.

When Joanna had regained her composure I asked her to come and find us at the end of school, as we might have something to suggest to her.

Sam and I talked at length about Joanna’s situation. We saw Michaela in the corridors and explained the situation. Apparently it was not unheard if a school only had one lottery winner for them to be attached to an older group from previous years. Michaela wanted to meet Joanna but thought in principle that it was a good idea for our group to support the waif.

The school authorities agreed and when we met Michaela and Joanna at the end of school Michaela nodded her acceptance and we put the suggestion to Joanna. She just sobbed for the second time that day. We all gave her lots of hugs.

“You will meet us every Month for our special sessions and will eat with us in the canteen.

‘Will I have to lose my blue bracelet?” Joanna asked.
“We all have yellow bracelets for the degree of feminisation we have achieved. Michaela and the other leaders don’t wear bracelets. What does a blue bracelet mean?”

“It means that I am a supported child orphan. Only the staff know that.”

“I am sure it gives you some protection, so I think it would remain in force until you have been through puberty, but the staff will know.”

“I want to love you like older sisters if you will allow me to do that.”
“Of course, I would love to have a little sister.” I caught her small hand and pulled her towards me and crushed her head into my chest as I gave her a huge hug and a chaste kiss to her forehead.

The next Monday meeting was our time to be signed off by the medics. Joanna was with us.

‘You don’t need to be examined.” The doctor said kindly to Joanna but please stay if you wish.”
“Please strip off”, the Doctor said to all six of us.
It was such a normal phenomenon that no one gave it any thought.
The usual photographs and measurements were taken for the last time.
“I think, Andrea, you are going to spoil our statistics. I think you are going to need to get a bigger cup size for your bras. You will need a 36D or even Double D.”

The other girls looked over to me. All smiled with a mixture of admiration and commiseration.
When they no longer fit take your old bras back to the stores where you bought them and they will measure you up and provide like-for-like replacements.

In turn each of us lay flat on a bed of sorts with stirrups for our pelvic exam.
The speculum that was used to open our vaginas was not comfortable, but tolerable.
When my turn came, the Doctor asked if I minded having my hymen snipped.
“It will make it more comfortable when you have sex for the first time. It has no significance in today’s world.”

“Yes, do it I said.”

A sharp prick and it was all done. A small swab was put over the wound until the trace of blood had stopped.

Joanna had been watching over the doctor’s shoulder. He gave her a running commentary on my anatomy.

“I can see Andrea’s cervix. It is like a pink dome and I can see the small amount of mucus blocking the entrance to it at present. The blood from your snip has already stopped”

I was getting a bit uncomfortable at this stage but could agree with some resignation that it was good that Joanna approved of the condition of my cervix!

“Can I touch you Andrea?” Joanna asked both me and the doctor.

“Give your hands a through wash at the sink over there and if Andrea agrees then I don’t see any harm.”

I could see Joanna’s little face become very serious as she approached the gurney I was lying on. Her hand were a bit shaky, but the closer she got the more confident she became. Her finger traced a line over my perineum and I gave an involuntary shudder. Joanna jumped away for a second before putting several small fingers into my vagina round the speculum.

“That is one of the most beautiful things I have seen” …she said, matter of factly. “Not only is it beautiful, but the potential for new life is something very special.”

I thought this was rather exotic language for a thirteen year old but just smiled inwardly. Joanna often spoke with an appreciation of things I thought were beyond her years.

She continued rather unnecessarily as her audience was myself, Samantha and the doctor. “It can squeeze out a baby and can give great pleasure. I can see the ridges of muscle that will massage a man’s penis to climax and can only imagine how it feels when the squirts of semen bathe your cervix. I cannot wait until I am old enough to share my vagina with some special men.”

From the position I was in, I could only look over at the doctor and raise my eyebrows. “I cannot say that I have ever thought about the beauty of a vagina, but I will look at Samantha’s when she is flat on her back in a few minutes!

“Hope you enjoy it”. Samantha said with some feeling … and wry grin.

I must say that Samantha’s vagina could have been thought of as beautiful. It was a pale pink ridged tube with the domed cervix at the far end. I think the beauty is more in the function than in the thing itself, but I can see why Joanna thought it beautiful.

Thinking aloud I said “I think Samantha’s vulva and perineum are more beautiful. The compact arrangement of vagina, urethra, clitoris and anus are beautiful in function at least.”

“Touch them if Samantha agrees.” the doctor said.

“Here goes”. I inserted a finger beside the speculum. I can feel the power of the muscles. They are almost as if they are quiescent. Waiting, but with enormous potency”

Next I inserted a finger up to the knuckle in her anus after the Doctor indicated that it was ok.

“That is a nice feeling” Samantha commented. “I could get used to that.”

“It is very pleasant to use the anus in that way. Boys enjoy it as well. When a boy has his penis inside you, you can put a finger into his rectum. He may ejaculate very quickly in that position.”
Even before you remove your yellow bracelets some boys will welcome one or two fingers put into their bottoms with some lubricant.

If you eventually decide to be part of a polyandrous or polyamorous relationship then it is quite normal to have double penetration. One man pleasures himself with your vagina and another with your rectum at the same time. It is entirely up to you to decide whether you want this or not.

The doctor concluded the examinations with a warning.

“Do not remove your yellow bracelets until you have completed your first monthly periods in perhaps six weeks to two months time.”

“Joanna, you need to keep your blue bracelet on until you are ready to remove the yellow bracelet I am going to give you to wear as well. As you know, transgendering puts a major strain on a child’s body and delays puberty in girls by several years. Only when you have had your first period in perhaps two years time should you remove both bracelets.”

Days in school are intentionally ordinary and uneventful. The rest of the day was one such. Only when Andrea reached home did she engage her parents in the idea that had been burning inside her all day.

In a matter-of-fact way she described how a very needy Joanna had become involved with Samantha and her. How Joanna lived in a loveless world. Couldn’t they do something about that?

“Mum, you were entitled to two more children, but with the difficulties in giving birth to me you were exempted from further trauma. Is there a possibility that we could foster and then maybe, adopt Joanna.”

Mary, Andrea’s mum, had long hoped for a second child but she had received long term contraception to save her life had she become pregnant again.

“This a lot to think about. Please invite Joanna here for the day on Saturday without promising anything. We will spend some time together and see how we get on.”

Saturday came and went. There was more laughter in the house than there had been for many a year. Joanna was the ‘life and soul of the party’. She had Mary and Len in stitches and hugged all three over and over again when it was time to be taken home.

She is certainly a live wire” was Len’s first comment.
“I am very tempted to explore the option of taking over the foster. Do we know how it works?”
“Our standard house has the bedrooms for three children and two adults. There is no problem with space here.”
“We will explore it on the Net over the weekend then make a decision.”

A search on the Net made it seem that taking over a foster for a teenager was relatively easy if the child agreed and there were no objections from the natural parents.

Obviously the natural parents could have no objection in this case, and Len and Mary could not imagine that Joanna would object. She would need to give her consent, but it needed some exploration with Child Services before it could be raised with Joanna.
It was shocking simple, it truth. A Social Worker was dispatched within the hour and a general clearance for the project to proceed was agreed with a judge in chambers after hours.

Next came the interview with Joanna. This was in the office of the school’s principal with two Social Workers. One who represented the authorities, and one Joanna.

Joanna had been spoken to privately in the hour before the meeting. She had been overwhelmed and, of course wanted to speak to Mary and Len. Since the arrangements at this stage were for fostering alone, the arrangements were simple. As long as Mary and Len were deemed suitable then the fostering could start. It was only if adoption was considered would further enquiries be started.

When Joanna was admitted to the meeting it was explained that the offer had been made, and the authorities had agreed that Len and Mary were suitable people to foster her. It needed Joanna’s acceptance for the foster parents to be altered.

Joanna moved across to where Mary and Len were sitting and with tears in her eyes said. “With all my heart I accept the offer.”… then gave both of them a huge hug. She sat between them for the rest of the meeting with her head resting against Len’s shoulder.

“It is so difficult to place transformed girls in foster care. We are delighted with this arrangement. We will arrange with the old foster parents for you to pick Joanna up this evening. The foster parents were never happy to take a girl and I have a very suitable boy to replace her.”

Mary, Len and Joanna were allowed to use the transformation suite to get to know each other better, and Andrea was allowed out of lessons to join them for half an hour.

Three hugely excited girls … Joanna, Andrea and Samantha rushed to Joanna’s home to see Joanna’s new room.

Len and Mary had been busy. The room was sparsely furnished but clean and welcoming.

Len phoned the foster parents and Joanna and Andrea came in the car with him to Joanna’s old address. They were a sour couple and were delighted to see her gone. Len had to encourage them to release Joanna’s feminisation cash card which they had under safe keeping, but it could not be used without Joanna’s thumb print so they were fairly easy to convince to give it up. It only took a few minutes to pack her minimal belongings before they were on the road again.

It was a late night with it being another school day tomorrow.

“I want to cut off my blue ‘Supported Orphan’ bracelet. I feel at home here already.”
“It is premature to do that, and it might even be illegal unless you are adopted.” was Len’s reply

The family remained excited as they prepared for bed. Joanna lay awake for hours thinking about her ‘new parents’ as she thought of them. As sleep eluded her she eventually crept in to Andrea’s bedroom and snuggled down with Andrea. Andrea just murmured in her sleep and the two girls were found fast asleep in the morning entwined in each other’s arms and legs.

Mary found them wrapped around each other and smiled before gently waking them. Joanna’s nightie had risen up during the night. On waking she pulled it down, but then said to Mary. “It doesn’t matter I am home now.” Mary could have wept.

Both girls had seen every last detail of each other’s bodies so it was no problem for them to shower together. They got through the bathroom almost as quickly as one girl would have done.

When they arrived at school the card scanner told Joanna to report to Reception. She was given a new card saying ‘Joanna Solomon aka Bright’ and where it said ‘Parents’ it had parents crossed out and ‘Guardians - Len and Mary Bright.

“Its official - I am now your little sister”

The staff in Reception could not be unaffected by Joanna’s joy at her new status.

“Have a lovely day” the Receptionist said. You were so sad when you arrived back. It gives us joy to see you so happy now.”

Hand in hand, the two girls traversed the halls, firstly to Joanna’s first lesson of the day and then Andrea went on alone. At lunch time the usual cohort of Lottery winners and Joanna met in the canteen. Joanna’s new card was handed round with much appreciation. A thirteen year old girl was a great novelty and they were a focus of attention for some time.

When her ID was scanned as she entered each lesson, she was the centre of attention. Few of the boys had had any interaction with a girl at 13 years of age. Her ID card was studied.

“What can we ask you to do whilst you are wearing blue and yellow bracelets? You can ask me to show you any part of my body, but you must not touch me. Anyone touching me or harassing me will be feminised very quickly. I know that only too well.”

The teacher wanted to get on with the lesson, but also understood that this was a monumental event in all their their lives.

“I suggest that we get on with the lesson until ten minutes from the end, then Joanna can come up to the front and show you as much as she wishes of her new body..”

“Is that agreeable to all you boys?”

“Yes sir, came the answer in unison.”

“Is that ok with you Joanna?”

“Yes. I enjoy stripping off as long as I am in a safe pace.”

And so it was.

Joanna became just part of the class at school and that is how it should be.

Andrea’s and Samantha’s first periods were uncomfortable, but being well prepared by their mentors, accepted them as a rite of womanhood, with equanimity. They had a small ceremony where they each cut the yellow bracelet off from the other.

“I feel almost more naked without that bracelet than I do without my clothes. It is odd how its symbolism is so strong.”

In school the throng of young men no longer kept their distance. The two girls were jostled a little by boys who would say “Oops” or something similar when they meant nothing of the sort.

Andrea narrowly managed to avoid the DD cup size but Samantha’s bust was as predicted. Both had luxurious hair of their own and flawless complexions enhanced by skilful use of makeup. Most of the sets of multicoloured panties provided by the State at their transformation had remained in their packets. If their skirt blew up in the wind, then so be it. For the next two years they were free to use their bodies in ways that would have been unthinkable to Pre-Lottery generations and they loved it. Only 10% of the students in the school were girls and they remained the focus of most boys fantasies and hopes.

Learning to enter one of the professions was part of they payback for the government who paid for their schooling. Learning to play the harlot was the payback for the Society that nurtured them and who depended on them for the future.

Eighteen more boys had been feminised in Joanna’s year group from later lotteries, and she was able to be a young mentor to help them.

Joanna’s adoption went through just before her bracelets came off. She had just a few weeks of having an Identity card without ‘Supported Orphan’ on it. The new one just said ‘Joanna Bright - Adult female’ Two years of care and love had made a huge difference to her. Two years of joy to her adoptive parents had made a huge difference to them. Two years of having a little sister to do lots of ‘girl things’ with had made a huge difference to both Andrea and Joanna.

Out of a school population of over 1000 students there was a nucleus of perhaps less confident and perhaps lonely boys who admired the self-assurance and composure of Andrea and her cohort of girls. On their own, often as they drifted off to sleep they aspired to the close friendships and supportive nature of girls and women.

Several approached Andrea and Samantha at a meal break very diffidently.

“We wonder if you could help us?” We don’t know what to do. Your lives seem to be so much better than ours. Have you any ideas how we can help ourselves?”

They were rather nonplussed by a vague request like this from a raggle-taggle group of rather unprepossessing boys they didn’t know and who had never propositioned them or wanted to see their skirts lifted.

“What are you asking?” was the question that came into Samantha’s mind. She spoke softly, knowing the effort it had taken for the boys to approach them “Do you actually want to become girls?”

“We don’t know, but maybe.”

So started the ‘Girls club’ … a club run by the girls, but really for aspiring girls.

Twenty three boys joined. They met on a Saturday and discussed everything that had happened to Samantha, Andrea and Joanna. Nothing was hidden and every question was answered honestly. Nineteen of the boys were not dissuaded by the sessions, and two more joined later. Their conviction that they wanted to be girls remained undiminished.

After a few weeks Andrea made a request to The Lottery authorities.

“Is there a way for boys to volunteer to be transformed?”

The answer came back within a day.

“Boys can volunteer using a particular form that could be downloaded. They had to be between fourteen and seventeen and have to have had an interview with a doctor to be clear that their decision was not the result of pressure from adults or peers. Their parents do not have to agree, but they must sign to say that they understand the consequences if they try to interfere with the process once started.”

The big Saturday event for the Girls Club came round. Five older girls and twenty-three boys met in a rented room at their school.

“Everything we have done at the Girls Club has built up to this afternoon’s session Andrea explained. All of you are boys who merged into the background. We didn’t know any of you before starting the club. You have asked us for help. We enjoy being girls. We look forward with expectation to motherhood. We know that with a 90:10 split in the genders, many of you will not achieve either parenthood or find a partner. That would have left us unfulfilled and you may be as well. Your chances of being loved are low once your parents are no longer around. Even your chances of ‘Winning’ The Lottery are slim.”

“I have been in touch with The Lottery team and whilst it is unusual, you may volunteer to become girls. The form is quite long and the purpose of this afternoon is to complete those forms if you wish to go ahead.”

“Once those forms are submitted and your volunteer status is accepted, you cannot withdraw and your parents cannot help you on pain of death. It is an enormous decision for you to take, but we believe that rather than boys and men dwelling in the twilight of Society you could become successful workers and mothers.”

“Samantha, please hand out the forms. We will go through them and answer any questions. Only at that point will we give you a pen if you wish to go ahead.”

In fact they got through the fifteen pages of the form in only 30 minutes or so. The appendix explaining each question and the consequences of answering one of several possible alternatives took longer.

After 90 minutes they had finished.

“I will give out pens now to those of you who remain. If you wish to go then that is absolutely fine. We have enjoyed having you as pert of the Girls Club and hope you will remember your time here with pleasure.”

Only three boys left, but all three took the forms with them and might submit the later.

The remaining boys filled out the forms there and then. They were not as daunting as they first seemed. One had to ring his parents to see if he had had some immunisations as a baby, but nothing more than that. The final section on why they were volunteering was the most challenging.

Answers varied. “I never have any friends who are boys. Girls are so much kinder.”

“I tried a skirt that I borrowed. I like the feel of a skirt much more than trousers. I feel like myself in a skirt.”

“I kissed a boy when I was dared to do so. I enjoyed it much more than I let on afterwards.”

“When I go to sleep I pray that I will wake up in the morning with breasts. I am always disappointed. I find that my life is not what I want.”

“I love being dressed in colourful clothes. I love the feel of sheer fabrics. Men’s clothes are usually so drab and fabrics so coarse.”

“I get a tingle down my spine when someone calls their mother, Mum, near me. I once turned round to see who it was and embarrassed myself. I would love to be someone’s Mum.”

“I have prayed to be chosen in The Lottery but I never get through even the first selection round.”

The complete forms were collected. Samantha read through each form to check it before they were submitted. She was in tears much of the time. These boys had such needs … such yearnings … such aspirations. She and Andrea had no idea of the deep-seated longings that were hidden in these boys who were often invisible in the larger school population.

She gave the large manilla envelope a kiss as she pushed it through the letter box of the Lottery Office. Bonnes chances mes braves. She said to herself.

The boys took their parental agreement forms home with them. The parents had a good idea of what was coming and none demurred.

A doctor visited each household during the following week, and established that none of the boys had been coerced into their decision. They were examined to see if there might be any problems during the conversion.

One boy was found to be below the weight needed to be converted without putting too great a strain on his body, and his application was deferred. The doctor questioned two others and his questioning brought the doctor to an understanding that the particular boys these two lusted after, would notice them more if they had a Harley Davidson and a set of tight leathers rather than boobs and a vagina. Their applications were rejected.

Within hours of the doctor’s agreement being received, the vans were sent out with their armed staff and doctor.

“James Robert Soames - you have volunteered to be come a girl. Please come with us to start the process.”

James Robert Soames looked down at his small immature body. A wisp of stringy straw blond hair drifted across his eye. He had imagined the breasts he would have, for years and years. It was all coming true. He looked back at his parents and smiled.

“I will see you soon.”

Janice Robyn Soames collected her new identity card from the wallet that her parents had been given and hugged both it and herself. “Daddy, dance with me.”She grabbed her father’s hands and danced round the living room with him with unabashed joy. He looked bewildered. If this was what having a daughter meant then he was all for it. Tiredness took over and the new Janice Robyn Soames’ parents guided their new daughter up to bed for a well earned sleep.

“How could we ever have doubted that this was the best option for James” Her father said with a voice full of emotion.

Similar emotional rollercoaster rides were taking place over the whole district. Within five hours all the boys had been visited. They woke after a restful sleep and attended school with a yellow syringe driver attached to their bare left arm.

Whist the invasion of changelings caused consternation in some quarters, enquiries flooded in to Andrea, Samantha and Joanna. By the end of the morning Andrea had had enquiries from another 30 boys and a date was fixed for a new Girls Club.

The school set up a team to supervise the extra-ordinarily large numbers of transitions at one time and Andrea, Joanna and Samantha became guides and mentors to their charges. They never did start to wear panties again!

At the next drawing of The Lottery their district had a zero quota.

Numerous other districts demanded to know why. The answer was simple. They had already reached their quota with volunteers. TV news teams were dispatched to report on the strange goings on in District 85. Large vans with satellite dishes on their roofs crowded the town square. The news crews ended up interviewing each other as the new ‘girls’ were not to be interviewed. The school put up one contact who spoke at length to the news teams.

Even lottery officials were interviewed.
“Why didn’t the population know that it was possible to volunteer?”

“It was thought that everyone would be afraid of being a woman after the pandemic, so it was not advertised. Only a handful of girls were created outside the Lottery from the whole World two years ago, and most of those were forced conversions of boy malcontents. Now we may be able to cancel The Lottery altogether.”

Andrea became something of a celebrity with News teams queuing up to interview her. She was taken on a speaking tour to every District in the World where English was spoken. Dubbed videos were shown where it was not.

Thousands, if not tens of thousands of boys accepted the chalice she offered. She had the pleasure of opening the last Lottery which had by then outlived its usefulness.

It was good to be a girl, and many boys queued up to become one!

Postscript -

Joanna became the first woman doctor for more than fifty years. She formed lifelong bond with a surgeon and bore him three beautiful children. She juggled motherhood and medicine with aplomb as many professional women do.

Samantha joined a polyamorous commune. She was joyously open with her sexuality and bore two single babies and a pair of twins from unknown fathers. Everyone looked after everyone else’s children so it didn’t really matter who the father was. If she had breast milk available, and someone else’s baby was hungry, she fed them. It is what people did. She was often bare chested in the commune and when she overflowed some of the adults also enjoyed a suckle.

Andrea was approached by three brothers who were all successful in their businesses and wanted to support her in her championing of women’s rights. They proposed a polyandric marriage and Andrea was glad to accept. She had found that her two years at school after removing her yellow bracelet had left her sexually satisfied. Many young men had enjoyed intimacy with her. She dreaded committing herself to one man and the arrangement with the three brothers suited her admirably. Whilst it was a pragmatic contract initially, it developed into a loving and supportive relationship. Two of her three sons were accepted into the conversion program and Andrea was overjoyed to be able to go to their doctorate awarding ceremonies some years later.

Like most viruses, they mutate. A virus that kills all its hosts before they can pass the disease on is effectively creating its own death. The virus that killed so many women and girls became benign after several decades and some of the first girl babies were born to Andrea’s grandchildren.

The World gave a sigh of relief and moved on.