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The Four Students By ABC de F (Alert: Because this is a forced fem story there is forced fem in the story.) Chapter One - Day Two Captain and President Alind Folton could see that they were completely broken. A lot of their will had already been taken out of them when they'd become prisoners, and now they were being subjected to additional stresses. Although they hadn't been actually punished they had been made to watch a video that proclaimed itself a sample of punishment they could expect if they didn't follow orders, and after that there were no problems. He had ordered that they be kept naked from the start and thought that helped establish their helplessness, but it was the overall situation that really did it. The obey- reward, disobey- punishment conditioning was simple because his goals with this school were simple. It was the four students at the other school who were in for more complex training. Folton freely admitted that he was an amateur at psychology, with no formal training, but he also knew that he was very good at understanding people. You couldn't stage a coup and be a successful politician at 28 without knowing how to understand and manipulate people. The four scared individuals before him didn't dare meet his eye. He looked at them, however, and was satisfied with their selection. Because of the high casualty rate, the enemy had been forced to toss out most physical requirements and use both older and younger recruits in the last year of the war, but then so had he, as evidenced by these inductees from his own forces. During a brief moment when the war was on the cusp and could have gone either way - and it was just for a fleeting moment because the idea was so absurd - he had carelessly considered drafting some of the few remaining women. The memory made him wince. The damn problem with the women frustrated him as nothing else had ever done. What the hell was wrong with the scientists? Those idiots had been working on the problem for years, announcing breakthroughs every few months. A solution in Finland! Ooops, sorry, the press had exaggerated. A dramatic lead discovered in Japan. No, not the lead we thought it was. An antidote discovered in Brazil! On closer examination not..... Idiots! And it was even more frustrating because his small country didn't have the resources to even try to match the great laboratories of the world. He and his people had to wait and hope that strangers in foreign countries would save them, along with the rest of humanity. He had to be dependent on others on that issue, but he could make his own decision on whether or not to start a war and he had. A country of roughly equal size on his eastern border was the target. Actually a very small country, one totally insignificant to the world. Not an easy job, however, because, as he admitted to himself - and he was always honest with himself, if not with his citizens - his own country was equally tiny; a speck of a country, equally poor, and equally insignificant. It was that equality that made the war last for over four years, but he had finally led what remained of his army to victory - and carefully collected the spoils. The other country's women were both the main reason for the war and the spoils of war - though the war also served to distract the population and rally everyone behind him, as wars do for leaders - and they were immediately transported to his capital. There were even fewer than rumors had led him to expect, but he got some into breeding arrangements almost immediately. He arranged to give a few to wealthy supporters, gave some to less well-off but equally enthusiastic supporters, and kept most in reserve with a hint that they would be awarded to his keenest future supporters. Of course he kept two for himself, quickly impregnating one of them. Now what? Now he had to keep the dwindling population calm. He had worked them up to get them to go to war, keep them up amid high casualties for all the ye...well, most of the years it lasted, and then pumped them up again at the end. Finally, it was all over. And now what? He had learned that being the leader meant he had to constantly ask himself that question. And constantly provide the correct answer. The Girls' School, Boys' School and Finishing School were one solution, but they were also a frustration. It had been his idea, and it was working, as he knew it would. The problem was that it was working on too small a scale to produce the numbers he needed. The arrival of the new women from the neighboring country would be a public distraction for a while longer, but that was a respite, not a solution. Sooner or later the male population would become agitated, the important ones in ways that could politically challenge his rule, and the common ones in a way that could cause havoc. He kept both the Haves and Have Nots quiet in three ways. The first was by their dependency on him for women, whether native born or conquered neighbors. The second and third were to have the noisemakers shot or imprisoned. The war and other things meant there were just a fraction of the men that there had been before, but the mysterious virus that was killing all the women and that the scientists couldn't beat - idiots! - was killing women far faster than even the rag-tag war had killed males. Lately the roads and stores in the capital were looking almost deserted. There were people, but so few that the town appeared as if it had been built for a population that never showed up. Service stations could go all day and only serve a handful of customers. Women didn't dare appear in public and the men had become listless. Both the Girls' School and Boys' School had run two classes of students each so far, taking twelve weeks to graduate each, but he was about to change that. Twelve weeks was the experimental level, to see if things worked, to get the bugs out. He was going to increase the intensity and graduate in eight weeks, and he would administer the first revised class personally, just as he had done for the inaugural class. If he was successful, and he was sure he would be, he would order more Girls' School classes and probably almost as many Boys' School classes, and assign enough instructors to turn out graduates in significant numbers. First, though, he had to get the shorter formula right. The second part of their educations, the Finishing Schools, where the graduates learned the details of their new life styles, was something of a storehouse. It didn't matter how long they were there. At present, the first two classes from both schools were in the male and female dorms there, and this class would join them. When he was sure he had the Girls' and Boys' Schools operating at peak proficiency he'd begin introducing graduates from the Finishing Schools into society. The Finishing Schools were easy. Turning boys into girls wasn't. Now what? Well, he thought as he looked at the four naked prisoners in front of him, this is what. Chapter Two The President had the four line up, hands down to their sides, standing up straight. They had been selected from his own army and were all very new recruits, each meeting his requirements of health, appearance and age, but also chosen for their matching heights. The last was strictly for psychological reasons: none would feel they could either dominate or be dominated by the others simply by virtue of size. The Major assigned to Boys' School had prepared them well: they were terrified. "You two, move two steps to your right," Folton said. "MOVE!" the Major shouted. They scrambled like frightened rabbits. "Face your partner," the President said and all four quickly pivoted. "Left hands behind your backs." He paused so they would pay careful attention to the short speech he was about to give. "Whether you realized it or not, yesterday you started something we call Boys' School," he said. "Since females are being killed off by the stupid virus and none of the world's stupid scientists has yet discovered a cure, you could never hope to have wives. As the years go by this has become a bigger and bigger problem for our country, especially for young men with raging hormones such as yourselves. Boys' School is a temporary solution. Obey orders and you won't be punished." He noticed that two of the boys shivered slightly when he said the last word. The Major had done a good job. He paused again, and then continued in a lighter tone. "We also have a Girls' School, which is for select citizens of our defeated neighbor, especially their newest soldiers. Though not for their girls." Before they could process that he went on. "Boys' School will be a challenge for you - and you may be tempted to obect. If you do, you will be punished in ways that....." He paused. "In ways that will assure your Dorm Teacher that you will never resist again. You will all enthusiastically complete the course. "I'll see you in eight weeks for your graduation. Now here is Major Sroit...." "Grab your dicks!" the Major shouted. "Start stroking. The first on each team with a full erection gets his dick sucked. His partner ...doesn't." As the President strolled to the door and out into the hall he was mentally reviewing his plan. At this point the schools were a secret and it was best to keep it that way. Rumors were inevitable but secrecy would only be critical in the early days. Once the program got rolling he would stock the Boys' School with volunteer students. He was sure there would be sufficient numbers, considering the shortage of females. The Girls' School students would continue to come from the large pool of captured enemy troops and civilians. By winning the war his government took on the responsibility of dealing with all those people and it was an inconvenience. The number of openings at Girls' School was so small that it wouldn't make much difference in the total number of prisoners, and the requirements were so specific no huge number could either qualify or be processed, but whatever was done to whittle down the number of people for which his government was responsible was good. What the "students" at Boys' School didn't know, he thought, was that they would be graduated at the end of twelve weeks - no, check that; at the end of eight weeks - and would then likely fit into one of two groups, neither of which they belonged to at the moment. Because such a huge percentage of the women all over the world were succumbing to the idiot virus Folton had abolished anti-gay laws in the country, and in fact encouraged the community. It lessened the social pressures emanating from there being too few women left. In a couple months one graduate might be surprised to find himself gravitating to the new stretches of gay bars around the city. The larger group of graduates would be comfortable, even delighted, to marry a beautiful young woman with an external sex organ between her legs. A Girls' School graduate. They also didn't know that the punishments at Boys' School were not what they appeared to be. Should a student refuse to do what he was told he would face severe pain but none of the blood and other nonsense that the video showed. That had been added and enhanced by video techs who made it look much worse than it was. One or more of the students would not believe that the punishment was worse than what he'd been ordered to do. It was, and he would fall into line afterward, but the origins of the pain were primarily electrical, chemical and psychological. The doctored punishment video simply got the classes off to a smooth start. The President smiled and his waiting adjutant thought it was a greeting for him and felt proud that the President had acknowledged him. The President settled into the back seat of the Presidential limousine and it pulled away from the curb. Two identical limousines led the way. "It went well, Mr. President?" the adjutant asked. "Routine," the President said. He liked to be there near the beginning of each new class, both to let the students know that the schools had the highest authority behind them, and to remind the staff that he regarded the schools as a priority. He thought the Boys' School less interesting because it held fewer surprises. The lessons there were less complex, and there were no significant changes in the students' physical appearance. Even the personality changes, as big as they were, paled in comparison to the changes required of the students at the Girls' School. He had observed some of the first class at Boys' School and ordered some refinements in the curriculum, but the whole three-step program was relatively straightforward. Others could handle it. The only important things that defied prediction were which Boys' School student or students might rebel. That upset his belief in his psychological skills. Something like that should have been fairly obvious, though it proved to be anything but. At the Girls' School there was far less chance of a student rebelling. The complexity of the syllabus was a big factor because it kept them off balance and constantly busy. But there were other elementss, as well, from the fact that all the students were strangers to each other, to the fact that they were dressed in high heels, which can throw a roundhouse punch off line when you're not used to them. His Girls' School plan was based on two simple ideas: familiarity through repetition, and what he called T.F.E. - Total Female Environment. Everything they saw, 24/7, was feminine, including what they saw in a mirror. Familiarity, rather than breeding contempt, breeds acceptance. So his real interest lay in the psychology of the Girls' School and the program that had taken him weeks to design. He had approached the task with a blank sheet of paper and it soon exposed itself as a complex problem with intertwined elements and a vast number of details. Designing that program was far more enjoyable than working up the Boys' program, and he took great pleasure in trying to anticipate the students' reactions to the various steps. Working on it made him wish he'd had formal training in psychology, which would have been of help, but it also let him show off at an amateur level. He thought, for example, that "mind over matter" was weak, that his program of "matter over mind" made more sense. Control the physical world and the mental world changes and adapts to that new reality. That was the key. When he'd completed the program he'd felt pleased with himself. Personally running the first class had been pleasurable, because of its success - and for other reasons as well. Girls' School was something that had made him feel proud, and that's where the small caravan was headed. The adjutant handed him a thin stack of files. The President nodded and opened the one on top, turning slightly toward the window, signaling he didn't want conversation. He had adapted easily to the power of the presidency. Traditionally, Colonels led coups. Generals were too entrenched with the current powers, and Majors and below didn't have enough clout. But living in such a small country let him by-pass those traditions, and even as a young Captain he had been able to form the strong alliances needed for a successful and bloodless coup. The country had remained calm, and since then he had become increasingly popular with what was left of the population, which regarded him as more of a new father than a politician. As coups go, what he had done was unique, just as the Girls' School and Boys' School were unique. Chapter Three There were preliminary filtering steps for the students that the President didn't bother to concern himself with. He set the standards, and because his representatives had the entire population of a conquered country to choose from - albeit a very small country - it was easy to find thousands that fit the bill, Not that it had been all that hard when he'd only had captured soldiers and captured civilians as a pool, but with his planned increase in the schools' output it was pleasant to have such a large number of candidates. Age, height, and weight could be measured by any underling and compared to cut-off limits, and the obviously unattractive could be weeded out just as easily. Muscular bodies, deep voices, the extraordinarily hairy, those with large or plentiful tattoos or scars, and any with medical issues could be easily culled. Those that passed beyond that point were photographed. Every week the President got a box filled with over a hundred head shot/body shot pairs, and he flipped through them in less then thirty minutes. The eight, ten or, in a good week, dozen photos he set aside every Monday got the subject re-photographed, standing naked. Folton picked four students from the new photographs for Girls' School. All captured military and civilians had been given health checks, including blood tests, when first captured. The finalists chosen from the photos were physically segregated from the rest, told they were "special" but not in what way, and given new blood tests as, they were told, a "confirmation". It was a ruse, the first of many they would experience. He let someone else pick the students for Boys' School because the requirements were limited to general characteristics. Besides, he only rarely got personally involved in the Boys' School training. Once the final Girls' School picks were separated from the larger group they were moved into the school. The first day at both schools was disorienting and scary for the students, as it was meant to be. Folton had spent considerable time on both the physical and psychological considerations when designing the programs. He had just witnessed the beginning of the second day at Boys' School and was confident that Major Sroit and the others would faithfully execute his new eight-week program. The really challenging work was at the Girls' School, and he needed to determine if it would succeed in the new eight-week time frame. That was one reason he was going to personally run it. The other was because he had thoroughly enjoyed himself while guiding the first class through the school. That had been a surprise, but a pleasant surprise. He was excited about taking over another class. It could cause problems if he revealed that to anyone so he kept it to himself. He shifted a bit in his seat, feeling the beginning of an erection he didn't want. Being in total control worked only as long as you behaved, in front of them, as your followers expected you to behave. With a new plan for the third class he had a legitimate reason to run the entire show again. He allowed himself a small smile. The first day at Girls' School began with the four students being forced to strip, their clothes carried away. Those two things alone were psychologically powerful. Not being allowed to talk or ask questions added to their fears and turned their imaginations loose. They couldn't get peer support because they were strangers to one another; the selection process assured that would be the case in every class. He kept them off balance with the next steps. They were herded into a small room with a large screen TV and shown sex films until all four had erections. They were then led to a van, forbidden to remove their hands from their sides and therefore unable to cover their arousal. The van's windows were blacked out and the steel partition between the seats and the front blocked their view. An armed guard rode in the back with them. At their destination they were directed into a large concrete walled room with a lot of space and four beds and matching dressers on the right wall. There were two guards and at their instructions they continued through the room, through an area with mirrored walls, a counter and low seats, past a rest room, and into a shower room with four separate shower heads. All four had been sweating, caused by a mix of fear, humiliation and the stuffy air inside the van, so a shower wasn't that unappealing. It was just unexpected. As soon as they were wet the guards instructed them to step out of the shower, spread shaving cream over their entire bodies and wait. They were also told to help their "classmates" spread the shaving cream over their backs. They waited, taking every opportunity to look around though there was nothing to see but a skylight fifteen feet overhead and cameras in all four corners of the ceiling. Both guards seemed very stiff and severe and none of them attempted to ask what was going to happen to them, though they did catch each other's eye from time to time. After ten minutes or so the guards handed out razors and told the four of them to shave their bodies and help each other shaving their backs, butts and the back of their legs. They did as they were told. They rinsed and dried and were given pink bathrobes that came down to mid-thigh and a pair of fluffy pink slippers. The four were assigned beds and then told to open the top drawer in the metal chest of drawers. They found half a dozen pairs of girl's panties. They were told to put on the skimpy pink pair, put their robes on their beds, get the pink mat out for under their beds and then stand near the foot of their beds. One, whose name was Ron, almost stood his ground. He was scared but for a few minutes believed he would be somehow less scared if the guards would just tell him what was going to happen to them. He was a prisoner of a foreign government and the earlier threats of painful punishment and the tough demeanor of the guards overcame his impulse. He, like the other three, decided to wait it out. Someone would explain things sooner or later, and if in the meantime they were told to do something he just couldn't do, well, that would be the time to say something. They were told to exercise, which surprised them all. What the hell was going on? they thought. Doing so after shaving their bodies and while wearing girl's panties made it weird and scary, but still, it was just normal exercise, mostly stretching, so they did it. Then it got even more girly when the guards explained that their ears would be pierced. A guard handed out small plastic bottles of alcohol, swabs, a cloth and two small metal piercing devices to each of them. The guards put the device in place for them, seemingly ignoring the fact that the students were nearly naked, hairless, and wearing pink panties. They drew back when the guards approached, and winced when the piercing devices were put into place, but none of them tried to make a run for it. Two hours later the device was removed and a small stainless steel bar was slipped through the new hole. They were instructed to rotate the bar and place alcohol on it whenever they heard the bell. A guard stepped outside and after a minute they heard a muted bell. "Turn and swab," the remaining guard said, and they did. Following instructions they put their puffy slippers back on and stood at the foot of their beds facing the wall that led back to the showers. A large TV emerged from the ceiling. "You'll get instruction via video," a guard said. "Whenever you see the television come down you stand in the exercise area and watch. Do what it says to do. If you don't, you'll wish you had." The students all exchanged nervous glances and turned toward the screen. When the four of them had first been brought together they were scared because they'd been singled out from the other prisoners, though no one had told them why; no one had told them anything. But the nakedness, the experience with the sex video and van ride followed by the weird location, shower and shaving made no sense. They were still prisoners but ... If they'd had any doubts or if the general theme of what was happening to them - and what was going to happen to them, wasn't obvious yet, and it wasn't simply because it was so outside the normal realm - it was all made clear by their first non-exercise video. It was innocuous, but its effect was shocking all the same. The video taught them how to move; how to sit, stand, walk, lie down and get up - like a girl. It raised the emotional distress for all four and pushed two of the students to the edge, though not over it. The video droned on and they fidgeted and mentally refused, but when it was over and they were told to imitate what they had seen on the screen none of them risked being punished by speaking their thoughts. No one wanted to be the one who started raising hell, but they all would have joined in if one of the others made themselves the ringleader. The video started again. In the first few minutes the guards spoke harshly to two of them when they failed to keep up with the instructions on the video. Both seemed to be building up to the point of rebellion, but there was too much weighing against it. The guards were big men, while they were all slender and short. They'd lived their lives being keenly aware that they were smaller than most of their friends so their size was frequently on their minds and they acutely aware of the contrast with the large guards. There would be other times and better times to find a way out of this weirdness and besides, they rationalized, what was such a big deal about standing and sitting like a girl for a few minutes. The only ones who could see what they were being forced to do were either guards or the other guys forced to do the same thing. Still, they all immediately thought, I've got to get the hell out of here. After the video the bell rang and they rotated the small rods in their ears. A guard came in with a snack and drink for each of them, after which they were allowed to put their robes back on and were taken to a small room with four school desks. For the next hour and a half they filled out a simple but long questionnaire that covered an eclectic range of topics, most as frivolous as naming their favorite foods and giving their dating history. They were then required to remove the bathrobes and pose for full-length photos, facing in all four directions. Again, it was something they didn't want to do - having their pictures taken wearing pink panties and bodies shaven smooth - but, again, it wasn't so bad that they would refuse and face whatever consequences there were. Back in the larger dorm room the body movement video was replayed and they had to again practice sitting, standing, lying down, and moving like a girl. Going from sitting to standing while always keeping their knees together was the toughest thing to copy, but none of them noticed that going through the exercises the second time wasn't as objectionable as it had been the first time. They were allowed a bathroom break, with the instruction to never stand at the commode but rather always sit - and to keep those smooth legs almost together. Next, they got answers to the questions they hadn't dared ask, and instead of calming their fears as they expected they exacerbated them. The video was titled simply "Introduction" and the narrator was a pleasant woman in her early twenties who looked like nothing more than a local news anchor or, given her age, a TV reporter at the anchor desk. Chapter Four One of them wet himself during the video, and all four stayed distressed during the third showing of the Move Like A Girl practice video that followed. They were lost in a horrible mental swirl as their brains flashed the images and words from the "Introduction" video. They followed the Girls' Moves video instructions mechanically, their minds still on the bewildering and scary words and images from the "Introduction." They were to be trained to be girls. They would act like girls for the rest of their lives. In fact, according to blood tests that had been taken when they were first captured, they were girls. Or at least 96.5 to 99% girls. Their genitalia were aberrations but obvious enough that they had been raised as boys. This wasn't all that uncommon, the narrator explained. It happened in about one out of two thousand births and the result explained all those unusual things you saw: spinsters who never married, girls with masculine bodies or a masculine feature such as a "man's" nose or jaw, graceful lithe men, men with long eyelashes and on and on. Just think of all the body parts that could end up different from what they should be or what you would expect they would be - or simply different from one human to another. Genitalia were one out of a great many physical characteristics. And in one out of two thousand it could easily be a combination of genitalia and the lack of breasts that had gone wrong. The woman in the video made a logical and scientific case with photos, video news clips, pictures of newspaper headlines, painted portraits from the Middle Ages through today, and crowd photos with faces circled. There were two complex charts that appeared as if they were photographed textbook pages, and even two short video clips of men in white coats identified as doctors. It would have been completely convincing if it hadn't been so unbelievable, and the reaction among the students was extreme anxiety and the fear that maybe, just maybe, it was true. DNA was the only foolproof method to determine the truth, and the truth had been determined for the four of them: they were girls who had been brought up as guys, It was scientifically proven that each of them was that special one in two thousand. Now they were in a very elite school to unlearn one set of behaviors and learn the correct set. Before long they would fully accept that the new set was the natural set. They were told that it might be a little difficult at the beginning because they had to unlearn years of mistaken thinking, but in the meantime the DNA test gave the positive, unarguable results: They were girls. And then there was the punishment. The video didn't spend a lot of time either explaining or showing the punishments - in fact, they were the identical scenes shown at Boys' School - but it was more powerful because of that. The penalty for disobedience, or simply for not learning and doing well enough, was horribly severe. New scientific devices for delivering new kinds of pain were combined with monstrous ancient devices. Some were shown in use. Apparently in use. The thrust of the video, however, was establishing the DNA proof and showing some of the lessons that were to come. What it didn't show was all of the lessons that would be taught and what would happen after graduation, but it showed so much that the students were overwhelmed and didn't even think about the questions and answers that were missing. It was almost impossible to fully take in what they had been told. The video also didn't show that all the scientific data had been manufactured out of thin air, or that the punishment scenes had been partially achieved with special effects, that almost none of the severe punishments shown were real. It all just needed to look real to have the effect required. After the Move Like A Girl video's third showing they all showered. The bell rang as they dried off and they all rotated the tiny rods in their ear lobes. They were instructed to dress in the small black lace panties they would find in the panty drawer, and a simple black skirt and white linen blouse that they would find in the middle drawer. From under their bed they were to retrieve and put on a pair of black slippers with a puffy ball near the toe. The slippers had half-inch heels. Both guards had slipped out after the Introduction video started - warning them first that the surveillance cameras in every corner also had sensitive microphones and that they hadn't yet been given permission to talk - and returned near the end of the Move Like A Girl video. They now passed out writing pads and ballpoint pens. "Write down what you learned from the video introducing you to the school. Make it detailed. Write about everything you saw or heard. You will be graded, so you want to do well. You'll have plenty of time to think about all the things that were covered," one guard instructed. They were given an hour to relive all the frightening details and write them down. More than once one of them would be shaking so much while bringing to mind an aspect of the video that their handwriting became an unintelligible scrawl, and they had to cross out a line and get a hold on their emotions before trying it again. All did the best they could and they tried hard. The threat in the video about being punished for failing to do well was very much on their minds. One guard collected the pads and pens. He replaced the pads with large, thin booklets bearing the title "The Guide for Girls, Volume 1" and told them to start studying. An hour later they were given another light meal with drink, and then told to resume studying the booklet, that there would be a test and anyone who failed would be punished. Some time after that the exhausted students were allowed to put the booklet away, take off their skirts, blouses, panties and slippers, and put on a hip length black lace nightgown. Each took the plastic bottle they found on their dresser and squirted some lotion into their hands. As instructed, they sat on their bed, rubbing the lotion into their feet and hands. In separate beds and semi-darkness they felt very much alone. As troubled as they were, the psychical and mental stress had drained them so deeply that within half an hour they were all asleep. Two of them dreamed they were still in the compound where they'd been taken after surrendering. Chapter Five As the new prisoners came in they were given forms to fill out, had I.D. photos taken (headshots), were checked for diseases, and were given blood tests. Then they were separated, all the old guys going to one section and the younger guys moving on to form another queue. Sean Drapmire looked around for familiar faces and found a guy from his unit whose name was Marthy. "What's gonna happen?" Sean asked. "They're going to shoot us," Marthy said. "Shoot us! How do you know?" "What use are we? They took all the females, which is what they wanted. They don't need us." "But why shoot us; why not let us go?" "Why should they? Why have us around to cause trouble? You notice they separated all of us from the old dudes." "I'm not going to cause trouble," Sean said. "I just want to go home." Marthy shrugged. "They took our pictures and everything so they'd have files on us," Sean said, continuing to protest. "That means they're going to let us go." Marthy started to say something but changed his mind and shrugged again. Later that day Sean's group was marched under a bar. Those that had to bend to pass were separated from those who didn't. The huge yard was surrounding by barbed wire and enemy soldiers. Though Sean didn't know it, there were 631 prisoners at this location, a mixture of military and civilians, with more coming every day. After the separations by age and height his group numbered sixty-eight and they were sent to a separate barracks for housing. They stayed there a month and additional prisoners were assigned to his area over that time. Nothing happened, outside of some additional processing, record taking, and an additional blood test. Then one day a group of soldiers came for him and three others. They were taken to a small building and had to go through additional processing. Ten days later Sean was driven away in a van with blackened windows. Ron Westop, Eric Sumlo, and Neil Banmer were in a different camp two miles away. They didn't know each other and even when they found themselves in a group of one hundred and twenty-one, whittled from the main population, they didn't happen to strike up a conversation with each other. Neil ran into a friend from school but no one knew anything so their conversation was stilted. They, too, wondered if they were going to be shot. Their compound, called Prisoner Processing Center Four, was one of the larger holding areas, with almost 2,700 occupants. None of the three knew that at the far end of the camp people were leaving almost as fast as new prisoners were processed in. Detainees over the age of twenty - mainly soldiers but also civilians - were being automatically released and transported back to their country. The one-hundred-and-twenty-one in their group were kept in a separate area and over the following weeks their number increased to over two hundred. It was obvious to most of them that they all had physical characteristics in common. Five weeks into their stay Eric, Ron and Neil were taken, along with a dozen others, to a guarded barracks on the other side of the airfield. After a week of more processing the three of them were culled out and transported to another building. When President and Captain Alind Folton arrived at the Girls' School the second day had already started. His original lesson plans for the two schools were different from each other and would remain so. The Boys' School plan hit the students with sex on the second day, as he had just seen and he hadn't changed that in his eight-week version. It worked at that school, but he had never believed it was the best path for the other school. Changing boys to girls was more complex. With the war won and the post-war procedures all implimented, his country had returned to its normal placidity. The woman problem, or rather the lack of women problem, was of such long standing that it rarely generated any emergencies. Nor did much else. The school wasn't far from the President's home and he could always be reached by cell phone if something came up. The plan was to put his new eight-week version in place by himself. He would find any weak points and be able to shore them up immediately, while others would have had to wait and ask for permission. If cutting the course to eight weeks proved too severe he could decide to extend it to ten and rewrite the plan as he went. This was a more important project than it first appeared to be. If it did what it was supposed to do, with additional classes it could introduce new girls every week. There would be a number of boys who would be eager to marry them despite the apparatus between their thighs - or, if the Boys' School worked as it was supposed to, because of the availability of that apparatus. Some of the extra girls could be married to favored friends, sons of friends and politicians. Though he recognized that society might first be tempted to ridicule the girls he knew it was an easy matter to make them highly desirable instead. To be married to a Girls' School graduate would be a step up socially, a sign that the groom was someone socially superior and fortunate. That bit of public manipulation would be simple. He didn't want to increase the supply too much; better to make the girls rare and hard to come by. But he did want them well trained, and that was the job of his curriculum, be it twelve weeks or eight weeks long. In the morning the President had taken care of some political business. He'd gone over the files before leaving for the school, and read them again on the drive. There wasn't much information. All four students were very close in age, weight and height, which is to say eighteen years old, slim and short. These were logical and obvious standards, among those he'd established in the first draft of his plan. The dossiers didn't tell him much but he hadn't expected them to. During the first few days the four students would behave as a herd, disoriented and afraid. It was only after the initial orientation that their different personalities would begin emerging. That was always the most fascinating part for Folton. How would each one of them deal with all the things that were about to be thrown at them? Who would believe right away, and which ones would go into denial? How would each respond to the various types of training they'd be subjected to? He'd learned from the first two classes that it was difficult to predict these things. There were always surprises. Each personality had its own way of coping with the shock they were about to receive, and each would react to different lessons in different ways. Still, there were some predictions that could be safely made, the most important among them being that all four would graduate as girls. The photos were interesting and more important. He had chosen them from the boxes of pictures he viewed each week and was pleased with his choices. There was always the chance that some of the students photographed in a way that made them look different than they did in life, but that hadn't yet been a problem. Whenever the President was confronted with something new it was his habit to immediately make a preliminary assessment. This was always an ephemeral thing, discarded without thought if it even hinted at being wrong, but he found it an interesting way to judge his level of intuition. After looking at the files he guessed that Eric could be a troublemaker, and he made a mental note of that. Folton didn't want any serious problems and didn't expect any. He went over the materials, as he did the plan, many times in order to find any weak points. By the time the Presidential car arrived at the Girls' School he was sure that everything would work well. Chapter Six "We have followed your instructions to the letter, Mr. President," the senior guard, whose name was Sgt. Plutty, said. "Both yesterday and up to this point today." "And how are they taking it?" Folton asked. "Well, Sir, I guess shock would be the right word. They were confused and scared at first, that much was very obvious. I think they thought they were going to be shot, or at least imprisoned for a long time. I don't think any of them are the rebellious type and they've been behaving. When they saw the Introduction video yesterday ... Well, I think that had a pretty powerful influence, as it always does." Folton nodded. "And today?" "We started them on their daily things, meaning the schedule of exercise to trim their waists and make their bodies more supple. One young fellow had a very tough time with the part where they had to walk on their toes but he finally got his balance," Plutty said. "We took them to the clothing room and had them pick out the items on the school list: dresses, skirts, and blouses - two each. I've written their sizes down, Sir." He handed the President a sheet of paper. "And the videos are working?" He had been concerned when first designing the lesson plans that videos would be less affective than live instruction. He tried them because he didn't want a lot of people involved in the school and because he was so sure of his plan that he wanted a way to assure it would be carried out exactly as the had deigned it. They seemed to do the job from the start, but he was still not totally confidant they were the best way to go. Live instructors would be something to test in the future. "Yes, Sir. The walking and sitting one, and the one on painting their fingernails and toenails. The makeup video is on the schedule for this afternoon." "How about their diet?" "High fat, low protein, as you ordered, Sir. We'll be rounding some of those body angles in no time." "Fine. I want both of you to spell the women in the monitoring room. You'll have considerable free time over the next month, but I want you both available at all times." The monitoring room, where the feeds from the video cameras and microphones of the dorm room were examined in real time, was staffed by women 24/7. Folton had considered males at first, simply because there was a bigger field from which to choose, but decided that females would be better at the job. Males watchers might get too horny and he wanted objectivity. "That's very kind of you, Sir." "Laundry. The lady who cleans....What's her name?" "Mrs. Vulminy, Sir." "Right. She's still working out okay?" "Doing a good job, Sir." "Good. Where are the keys?" The guard handed a ring with four keys to the President. He'd had the same two guards assigned to the school for the previous classes and intended on keeping them. They were discrete, it was easy duty and they felt privileged to receive it. He unlocked the door to the dorm, paused a moment to add some drama, and then walked in, the guard following. Surprise and a little fear registered on all four faces. Every new thing in their lives now was frightening and here was a new man coming into their room. He slowly looked them over, then turned to the guard and dismissed him before addressing the quartet. "I'll be your commander for this term," he said. "I will teach you things you should know but don't know. I will grade you and decide if you are making good progress ... or not. You're the third class that has come through this school and we've had a one hundred percent success rate. "You will all graduate. Whether or not it takes punishment to get you there is up to you." He walked toward them, taking four slips of paper from his pocket as he did. He handed one to each student and said, "We know that the name you have now is completely wrong. So each of you is getting a list of names. Hardly anyone gets to do this so you're lucky - you're going to be able to choose your own name." Each piece of paper contained a different list of twelve girls' names. None of the names on the lists had the same first initial as the current name of the person receiving the list. He felt it was best to eliminate any mnemonic reminder of their old lives; no Bill to Brenda, Mike to Michelle, or Dave to Diana. "In an hour you can tell me which name you've chosen and that will be your name from now on," he said. "In the meantime we're going to put the video you watched this morning on nail polish to use." They immediately accepted him as the authority figure. Everyone did. He knew how to set that stage. For example, he had brought the guard in with him and dismissed him there to show that he was not only taking the guards' place but that he was superior to them. He had them put red polish on their toenails and, after determining that they were all right-handed, on their left hand fingernails. While the polish dried they had to once again watch and imitate the video on the way girls move. Folton believed that making the students of Girls' School move their bodies like girls until it was habitual was a critical early step in their training. Once they moved that way automatically they would be easily persuaded that it was instinctive, that they had simply unlearned their previous false teaching. They would also see the other students moving like girls and would more readily accept that the non-existent DNA tests were accurate. It would help with groupthink, too, because each of them would go along with the others without fully realizing that the others were going along with him. And it was nice to watch. Folton thought that making them consistently move like girls was a solid and early turning point in the training and believed in hammering it in over and over. In the first class of students it hadn't fully taken hold until the end of the fourth week, but when it did it had given him a sense of victory. From that point on the boys had looked totally like girls. The clothing and makeup and wigs were just the icing on the cake. Now he'd have to somehow shorten the process. When they moved into the more intimate parts of their training it was best that they were thinking of themselves as girls, or at least were close to doing so. In his course design the early days contained no mention that becoming girls would involve sex. It seemed to him that it was an obvious progression, but Folton was surprised during the first class that the introduction of that portion of the training was a shock to them. Kissing, another step that he considered a key in the transformation should have been a bright flashing light blinking "Sex! Sex!" Or so he had thought. It hadn't turned out that way, at least for most of the students. Kissing was just kissing to them. The found it repulsive to kiss a man, but astoundingly they didn't think it was a first step to more intimate behavior. Folton guessed that they apparently just didn't think of sex because they had no breasts or vaginas, and because sex was such a huge step beyond kissing, Perhaps there was an element of denial as well. He wondered if they had sub-consciously pushed the idea from their minds until he brought it up. That seemed likely to him because he couldn't imagine that they hadn't realized that becoming a girl meant ...well, becoming a girl. How could they not figure out the natural consequences of that? Perhaps they simply hadn't allowed the thought to surface. Whatever the answer, Folton had learned from their behavior and integrated that information into his master plan. Sex was fundamental to their transformation. Without it they'd just be play-acting. But he didn't want to push it too far, didn't want to turn them into hookers or sluts. They had to learn about it and they had to do it, and during that portion of the training it would be the biggest thing in their lives. After that, however, it had to dissolve into simply being a part of a their relationship with their fianc? or husband. Or, temporarily, him. Part of his method was to keep their minds busy by continually throwing new things at them and making them practice over and over. Though the activity was put in place for a number of reasons - to keep them too busy to scheme among themselves, to keep them tired and on edge and therefore susceptible to suggestion, and to cram a lot of training into a short time - it may have also limited their thinking about the big picture, a picture that naturally included sex. Perhaps they had thought of it but dismissed the thought as too extreme, too improbable. He could understand that, except that everything that they were learning and everything that happened to them was also extreme and improbable, so why not consider one more thing? Being made attractive - and some of the training really broke down to that simple goal - meant attracting, and whom were they attracting but guys? And why would they attract guys if not for relationships? In the end Folton decided it was an interesting question but apparently an unimportant one because it didn't create a problem. The students never brought it up, even after they were allowed to speak, so he didn't dwell on it. Still, in quiet moments, usually in the car after leaving the Girls' School, the question would rattle around inside his head. When their nail polish was dry Folton had the students assist each other by doing the right hand fingernails of their neighbor. A minor thing, but that made them all accomplices in turning another student into something more female. At times he felt he might be over interpreting the psychological importance of some of the activities - sometimes a cigar was just a cigar - but it didn't matter. While the last of the polish dried they were shown a video on makeup. They simply had to watch, not imitate, and once or twice he caught them exchanging quick glances. One boy slowly shook his head back and forth a couple times, but none of them said anything. The sergeant brought a small box and four slips of paper into the room, handing Folton the papers, each of which contained a girl's name written in script. The President handed the appropriate slip to each student and watched as each of them received a small jar of red paint and a brush. They were told to paint their new name on the wall above their bed, imitating the feminine script as closely as they could. When they were given permission to talk they would be instructed to address their classmates by their new girl's name. In choosing the class Folton had dictated that they be strangers to each other so they would have no idea if they could depend on one another. That made each of them feel isolated even as they jointly faced one outrageous new assault on their self-identity after another. Exercise followed. As with so many of the things designed into the program they were repeatedly doing something that they had already done or seeing something they had already seen. The idea was to keep introducing new things, both to speed their training and to keep them unbalanced, but then frequently repeating them until they were no longer strange. He wanted to change their frame of reference, to change the world they lived in. The video took them through a now familiar series of moves designed to trim their waists, firm their butts and make them suppler. They were sent to shower and then allowed to dress in their choice of panties, the pink robe, and pink slippers. The bell, which rang as soon as they were dressed, was part of the other thread: learning to automatically obey. They hadn't liked getting both ears pierced but in a short time they were twisting their rods and applying alcohol so automatically that it no longer seemed objectionable. "I have some good news for you," he told them. "We're going shopping again." He smiled, and though it wasn't returned by any of them he went on as if they'd smiled back. "I had the guards take you for a couple things this morning but now we're going to round out your new wardrobes. Come with me." The "shop" was across the hall and they entered through a double doorway. Many of the things in the program required the students to make choices, albeit from a limited number of options. By stating a preference they developed at least superficial ties to the items and became participants of sorts. As often as was practical Folton got them involved in the process rather than simply ordering them to do something. Now they would pick out the panties, bras, and shoes that they would wear. Folton told each of them their sizes, which he read off the paper Sgt. Plutty had provided, as they stood in front of the various bins, cautioning them to choose items that color matched. The bras were all small, lacey A cups with padding filling the cups. He let them choose the colors of the two thong panties. He had them pick shoes with substantial one-inch and one-and-a-half inch heels, in designs and colors that matched their new underwear. They might have picked out the items but by the way they carried them it was plain that the students felt little or no attachment to them; and in fact didn't like them. Still, it was better to have them make the choices than simply be handed pre-selected items. He noticed that they couldn't help looking both ways down the hallway between the dorm and the shop on their way back. Both ends of the hall ended with a wall and a steel door with only a small window at eye level. The doors each had a heavy hasp and combination lock, and as tempting as they might have been they really held out no hope. "Take them to your dressers," he told them, "and then I want to see you model your new clothing. Bra, thong and heels, girls - and then stand at the end of your bed." While they were slowly and reluctantly changing he left the room and spoke with Sgt. Plutty who, by pre-arrangement, was waiting at one of the hall doors. "They're changing," Folton said. "Go in and tell them that I've decided to allow each of them to ask one question each when I return. Emphasize that it's only one question for each of them and that they had better be very polite and not disappoint me by asking a question I won't like. Scare them." The guard, who had been through this routine before, said, "Yes, Sir" He liked scaring the students and he went back to the dorm door with a small smile on his face. A few minutes later he returned and reported that the quartet had barely gotten started and that he'd had to be tough with them. "Scared the crap out of them, Sir. I don't think they'll act out of order, if that's what any of them were thinking," he said. "Good man," Folton said. He gave the students a few more minutes before returning to the dorm room. All of them were standing at the foot of their beds, dressed in lace bra, thong and the shoes with the shorter heels. He noticed that they were all standing correctly with good posture, their feet together and arms loosely at their sides, just like they'd learned from the video, and he was pleased. Chapter Seven They'd asked the expected questions about Why me, When can we go back to the camp with the others, and Why do we have to do this stuff. There were no surprises, no objections other than those implied in the questions, and no overt rebellion. It was interesting to the President that even though the Introduction had made it clear that their lives would be changing they still had the vague idea that all of this was temporary, just something they had to do now. He decided that the question of rejoining the others was more an expression of hope than a belief that the changes would be temporary. Folton gave them very short answers before instructing them to walk, one at a time, to the opposite wall, turn slowly and return to the foot of their beds. He then had them model the second set of undies and the higher pair of heels. This time he made them walk the length of the room and back. None of them were truly successful at that, even though the heels were modest and of a height they might have had on various boots. In fairness, the heels were not as wide as boot heels. When he had examined all of them he walked back to the door and knocked once. Sgt. Plutty and the other guard came in, carrying a huge four-foot by twelve foot sheet of heavy construction paper between them. Most of the area had been cut out with a series of rectangles of various sizes like a giant stencil. Two students were told to hold the paper against the wall above the dresser and bed of the third student who would trace the outlines of the rectangles and place a designated number within each. It turned out that they were neither tall enough nor strong enough and the guards had to assist them. When they finished they did the same to the walls behind the other three dresser-bed areas. Folton didn't give them an explanation, preferring to make it one more new and mysterious thing they could worry about. After the guards carried the layout away he had them move to the center of the room and signaled at one of the monitoring cameras. A video started. The students were still in the taller set of heels and when the Move Like A Girl video came on he heard a couple very low moans. The movements would certainly be more difficult in heels. "That was pitiful," Folton said when they'd completed the practice, "and you'd all be punished severely if it wasn't for the fact that it was the first time you've had to practice in shoes with heels. I've made allowances for that. Now we'll do it again - and you don't want to disappoint me." The video began again and the four of them imitated the moves somewhat better, though still very far from satisfactorily. It was an improvement, though, and that's what he wanted. He wanted to see them trying hard even though real success was beyond them at this point. If they were seriously trying to get it right they were sufficiently cowed and they'd be moving well before long. And then they'd be moving gracefully, as if that was the way they had always moved. So much to do in eight short weeks! "You're going to see the makeup video again," he told them, "and I want you to watch very carefully because in a few minutes you're going to get to do the things you're seeing." There was some reaction to that, none vocal. One looked at him with dropped jaw and wide-open eyes, two looked at each other across the area between their beds. Makeup was always another turning point for students. In the previous classes it had been clear that it was an issue. He hadn't expect objections about putting on lipstick and eye-liner simply because that lesson came so quickly after seeing the Introduction video, yet the obvious if unspoken opposition was always there. For the most part they did a terrible job. They must have thought they were being taught finger painting because the results were blotchy and uneven. So he criticized them, belittled them and gave them advice and took them through it again. And again. He told them that they would keep putting it on and wiping if off until they got it right. Their initial tendency was to put everything on either too light or too thick. and they had to be taught moderation and blending. The one thing they didn't paint on was their lipstick. It was a moderate red - he wanted them to look attractive, not gaudy. Some of them didn't seem to realize that their top lip had a shape and wasn't just a straight line. The room smelled like cold cream but he persisted and made them do it a fourth time. Two of them had to clean their faces and reapply the makeup a fifth time before he let them stop, and he made a point of it being their fault the other two had to wait around simply because they couldn't get it right. Soon the four would bond to some degree and he wanted to establish a bit of dissention to delay that. Bonding was good, but only after all four had accepted that they were girls. Bonding at this stage could form the basis for rebellion. He signaled to one of the corner-mounted cameras and Sgt. Plutty immediately came through the front door carrying four wigs. Folton had pre-arranged this and the idea was to give the impression that the sergeant was always waiting right outside the door. As the man handed out the wigs - two blonde, one brunette and one redhead - he gave each student a small handful of bobby pins, the tips coated in soft plastic. Folton told the four of them how to put on their wigs, hide their hair, and secure the underside netting to their own hair. He had them help each other, making sure no strands of natural hair snaked out from beneath the back of the wig. After he'd sent to them back to stand by the ends of their beds he moved to the center of the room. It was time to begin learning about each of them individually. "They'll be some more photos," he said. He turned to the student on his right. "What's your new name?" he asked. There was some hesitancy before the whispered reply, "Amy." It was spoken doubtfully and more in the tone of a question than an answer. "Amy!" Folton said. "Good." He held out his hand. The student gingerly reached for it. "You'll be our first model today," Folton said. Turning to the rest of them he continued, "And no talking, remember. I'm sure you'll be tempted to ask Amy some questions when she comes back. But the punishment for breaking the rules is severe. Whenever you leave this room you'll all experience the same things so learn to be patient. If you're good girls I may give you permission to speak tomorrow. "Practice while we're gone." He led Neil-Amy from the room just as the Move Like A Girl started its eighth showing. She walked clumsily, tightening her grip on his hand as she tried to balance herself on the modest high heels. The sergeant was stationed outside the door and closed and locked it behind them, making sure the students inside caught a glimpse of him. Through the padlocked door at the end of the left hallway there was another short corridor and Folton took the student to another double- door. He couldn't imagine what was going through her mind, but she had to be acutely aware that she wasn't wearing anything other than her new stuffed bra and thong. And the makeup and wig and heels, of course. The room he led her into was large, with a queen-size bed and night tables at the far end. The custom made bed had been stripped of blankets and was covered in unwrinkled foam green sheets. A large antique wood desk was on the left with a couch backed against it facing into the center of room. The couch upholstery was a rich, silky looking material and there were half a dozen large couch pillows in complementary colors. A small photo studio arrangement was on the right, wit