I look at her with a mixture of alarm and curiosity. I ask, “You don’t remember anything about the session?”

She looks pensive, concentrates a minute, and shakes her head. “No,” she slowly says, “nothing… I just feel…good… So, you never answered my question… How was your class?”

My alarm is growing… “Cindy, my class was fine… Forget about that for a minute… You don’t remember what they did to you in that session? You don’t remember what you may have told them?”

She looks confused for a minute, then a light comes on in her head and she takes on a terrified look as the implications of what may have happened dawn on her. She whispers, “OMG, what are we going to do? What if…if…?”

I take her hand and slowly stroke it in that manner that I know calms her down. “It is OK,” I lie, “I am sure it will all be fine. We just need to be extra careful… I have no idea what these nanobots may do to me… And we don’t know what they have done to you, either…”

The next two weeks are scary. My days are filled with more deportment lessons…and as an added bonus…ballet, voice, and speech. It is all geared towards undoing all my years of male conditioning…and ‘reprogramming’ me to act and sound like a complete woman. The scary part is that every time I am in one of these classes, Cindy is one of her own…and can’t ever remember anything afterwards…only that she feels ‘good’…

The only difference that I can tell, however, is that Cindy is becoming more and more accepting of the new ‘me’. We spend hours trying on clothes, doing each other’s nails and hair, practicing different make-up looks… It is like we are both teenage girls…

I keep a careful eye out for signs that there is anything sinister about the ‘classes’ that Cindy is attending, but no one at the center seems to be treating us any differently—so I start to relax a little. I had briefly discussed with Cindy her quitting the sessions, but she was oddly reluctant... It would be suspicious if she did so, I guess…

Four weeks after ‘the shot’, I still haven’t really noticed any difference in myself—other than my shoes are really loose…and my feet hurt if I don’t wear at least four-inch heels. Marissa is in our suite, making the beds and I go to the closet looking for a comfortable pair of heels. I can’t seem to find any that will stay on my feet, though.

I am grumbling when Marissa asks me what is wrong. I shrug and tell her about the mystery of my shoes. She smiles and goes to her maid’s cart. To my surprise, she pulls out a foot gauge… You know, one of those things, like in shoe stores, that you step on to measure your foot size. To my added surprise, my foot is a full size smaller…a woman’s ten…

That probably explains why my rings are so loose on my fingers, too…my hands and feet have been really itching lately…you know down deep…the bones there must be restructuring…and shrinking. I shudder, but feel an elation at the fact that the old side-effects of my testosterone from days-gone-by on them is being undone…

The only thing I can’t understand is why I am much more comfortable in heels than flats…

Marissa quickly goes and gets me a pair of my favorite five-inch heels in a size ten and tells me that she will exchange the rest of my shoes later on. I smile and thank her as I take Cindy’s hand and we go down to breakfast. I don’t even notice how really comfortable the shoes are now…

When we sit down, I notice that there are some new arrivals…a new couple; and one looks vaguely familiar… Could that be Shadem Hussy-Ain? It is hard to tell with the makeup and woman’s clothes… I make a resolution to meet them later, since we are already seated and I don’t want to draw attention to the meeting…

To my surprise, Cindy notices the newcomers right away and gets right up and rushes over to them. She greets them like they are old friends and waves me over. What is with Cindy? She is never like that with strangers…I always have to force her to meet new people… I shrug and move over to the new table.

Cindy says, “Gwen, meet Linda and Jacqueline…or Jacky as she prefers to be called… They just arrived last night. We have company again. Isn’t that wonderful?”

I just nod and give her a quizzical look. I turn my attention back to the newcomers and greet them. I carefully eye ‘Jacky’ throughout breakfast and am near fully convinced it is Shadem by the time we are done. Now, I have two new mysteries…find out if this really is Shadem…and figure out why Cindy did not shut up the whole time we were eating… Why is she suddenly this social butterfly?

Cindy and I are both sitting in Dr. Ginger’s office. We had been paged there right after breakfast, which was a bit of a surprise, since we were normally scheduled for our joint session in the gym…

A couple of minutes later, Dr. Ginger comes in and sits down behind her desk. She has a strange look on her face, but quickly replaces it with a smile as she looks at Cindy. She says, “Hi Love, you are looking radiant today!”

Cindy smiles and blushes. She gushes back, “And so are you, Ginge.”

I do a double-take and Dr. Ginger turns her attention to me. As she does, her face darkens again. She says, “And you, Gwen, have been a naughty girl.”

I feel the blood drain from my face as I fear the worst. Cindy must have said something…

Dr. Ginger turns on a small music box and Cindy’s face goes blank. She continues, “As you know, Cindy has been having some special sessions with us. Those sessions were designed to reprogram her very self. I am sure you have noticed that she is now much more outgoing. She is also now very much a deep-seated bi-sexual with a strong desire for naughty girls…and well-hung guys…” She pauses, then continues, “The way that she was reprogrammed, was a mix of special drugs, hypnosis, and physical practice sessions; you know with real guys and girls. You will find her very adept at all sorts of…games with both sexes… And I have just confirmed with her that you are one of her special ‘toys’…”

I look at Cindy’s blank face and shudder.

Dr. Ginger continues, “Remember, you both agreed to do whatever it takes. As for you, we have remotely made some slight tweaks to the programming of your bots. You see, Cindy has a certain image of a ‘naughty girl’… You have likely already noticed that you can’t get quite comfortable in flats… That your feet hurt after a while… That will get worse…as your feet become the exact opposite of what women normally experience…comfort in flats and pain in heels… You will, of course, be able to wear flats…but pay the same price as normal women that wear six-inch heels all day. You, on the other hand, will be right at home in those six-inch heels…something that fits into Cindy’s naughty-girl image…”

She lets that sink in for a minute. When I don’t say anything, she finishes, “Oh, there will be a few more surprises along the way…but they will remain, overall…benign…to a friend of the Center… You should also know that Cindy’s absolute allegiance is now with the Center’s friends…she will never do anything to harm a friend… That’s all for today…” She turns off the music box and Cindy comes to.

As we are leaving, Cindy whispers in my ear, “I can’t wait to have some fun with my new naughty girl…”And she winks at me.

After we leave Dr. Ginger’s office my mind is in a whirl… What have they really done to Cindy? What do they know? What did she mean by all those references to ‘friends’? And that parting shot at me…benign surprises for friends of the Center…? Was I just imagining things…? Making a mountain out of a mole hill?

I go to my scheduled classes and am surprised to see Jacky in deportment. It is absolutely clear that ‘she’ is a guy…and not really all that interested in becoming a girl. That explains some of the things they do in this special program. It is geared towards making passable women out of men that deep-down really don’t want to be women…only have the perfect disguise… The fact that I want to be a woman is just icing on the cake…

By the time class is over, I am also certain that ‘Jacky’ is Shadem… The question is, what do I do with that information, now? Can I trust Cindy? What will happen to me if I get this out to the Company? If the Center falls? DAMN! SO close to success…to getting out from under the sword of those blackmailing bastards…

I shake my head and go back to our suite. Marissa is just finishing putting my shoes away… There is nothing with less than a five-inch heel…