Reap What You Sow Part II free porn video

REAP WHAT YOU SOW PART II Before long, all seven of us were finished with the transformations. Dr. S allowed us a few minutes to chatter and compare our transformations and to adjust to the changes before she called the session back to order. We quickly settled down into our seats waiting whatever she may have for us next. I could look around the conversation group and see the obvious signs of stress and trepidation in the eyes of the other six girls. It kind of made me feel a little better because I could see in them exactly what I felt within myself. It was comforting to know that I was not the only one having doubts or feeling just a bit of fear. I have already touched a bit on my changes; let me take a minute to try to briefly describe some of the others. I know what you are thinking but I'll tell you that none of us had transformed into a fantasy characture of a teenage girl. Humiliation was never the goal of the program. These are in no particular order other than I wanted to mention those who were close to me first. I'll start with Ty as he would become one of the closest friends I have ever had. As I said before, Ty stood about five foot eleven and was trim with a well defined musculature; what those in weight lifting circles describe as 'cut up'. Now, on the other hand, at about five foot seven, Ty looked to be just reaching the pretty side of coltishness. She was tall and slender and just coming into her shapeliness. She, too, had developed what I would guess as a small B cup bust and her waist looked about as tiny as mine felt. She has well rounded hips and legs that go on for days. Her skin had a wonderful deep rich coffee colored tone with subtle golden undertones and her facial features had a certain well defined and elegant delicacy about them. All in all, she had become a beautiful girl bordering on absolutely gorgeous. It was funny to hear her new sultry voice but only because the first words from it were a whining question about her long dark, almost black, brown hair. As Ty, her hair was relatively short and was kept wrapped up in tight rows along the scalp but now, those tight rows had become hundreds of tiny plaited strands with a myriad of small beads intermittently woven in. "Do I really have to keep the beads?" she practically whined. "This stuff is heavy!" "Not really, Brianna," Dr. S replied calmly then turned her attention to the group in general. "And all of you should hear this; you can do anything you want with your hair except cut it. The changes and any styles you may decide on are completely up to you. But! If you try cutting it, you will wake up the following morning and find it had grown back completely; along with as much as a six inch increase. This is a required test and you will not be allowed to cheat it." Yeah, there were a few quiet grumbles about that. Anyway, let me get on with the changes. Jason, the short guy with the white collar background actually became the 'hippy' girl in the group. She was also the second shortest in the class (the honor of being the shortest fell to yours truly) at five, three. She had a fuller figure than either Brianna or me; not heavy but like she was still carrying around some of her baby fat. She would later tell me that she had a 35C-26-38 figure. At this time, all I knew is that she was very curvy and what I would have to describe as cute and cuddly. She would never be a beauty queen but she had big hazel eyes, naturally high thin brows and a full lipped pursed mouth that invited kissing. Unfortunately, her nose was just a little too long and her jaw just a little too wide for her otherwise small face for 'true' beauty. She also had thick strawberry blonde hair that supported tremendous waves and body and when it flowed down in front of her shoulders she became absolutely adorable. After the transformation, Dr. S introduced her as Shelley. Russ, the belligerent redhead was still a redhead; but where Russ' hair was a light, almost washed out, red that some people called 'ginger'; Kelly's thick luscious hair was a rich vibrant red. When combined with her big glowing green eyes, delicate straight nose, and generous lips the effect was visually devastating. At five, eight, she was the tallest among us and she too carried a shapely young figure; long legs, nicely rounded hips and ass, and a well defined waist. Unfortunately she was the first of us to be cursed with the excessive bust development we had been warned about. We were to find out later that she wore a 38E bra. At the time of transformation, though, all we knew is they seemed huge. I couldn't help but think about having those monsters on my little chest without a certain degree of dread. From the disgusted moan that escaped from her pretty lips, she wasn't too happy about 'developments' either. The last three were never close to me and I never heard their 'male' names. So I will just touch on their transformations. The single Hispanic member of the group became an almost stereotypical Latina bombshell. She stood at five foot seven and was blessed with the thick lustrous coal black hair, smoldering eyes and expressive facial features, and knock out body that always comes to mind when most people mention Latina women. Like I said she was almost the stereotype. She also had the fiery temper that one expects. She was introduced as Lucia as she sullenly walked away from the transforming globe and sat down. The other two, I just referred to as the "Bell" sisters (you know 'ding' and 'dong') as they seemed to be stuck together and had apparently already formed a clique of two. They also looked like they had been formed from the same cookie cutter, with the exception of hair color. Alessandra was by far the prettiest of us. She stood at five, five and had beautiful shining chestnut colored hair. Her big brown eyes seemed to dominate her face and draw one in so that her perfectly bowed lips could reach her intended victim. Her bust probably stood at a heavy B or light C and, was I to guess, I would place her measurements at 35-24-35. She had come through her transformation wearing a very stylish slacks and blouse combo. Catherine (my name is NOT Cathy), on the other hand, was a glowing golden blonde. She followed a very close second to Alessandra both in the pretty and the height department at five, four. Her startling blue eyes were every bit as big as her cohort's brown ones, and they seemed to glow. Like I said, she was a cookie cutter copy of Alessandra and they would readily be able to borrow each other's clothes. She was the only one of us the transformation process had placed in a light knee length dress complete with hosiery and sandals with a two inch wedge. "I know all of this feels pretty strange right now," Dr. S continued as we all found seats. "But, I assure you that for most of you this will soon feel completely natural." "For most of us, what do you mean, Doctor?" It was Kelly who responded before anyone else could. "I'll be honest here, girls; this is generally the point where we may lose some of you. Our experience shows that some of the male egos we work with can't adjust to what happens to them during the orientation and transformation lecture," she replied a bit sadly. "You mean that even after they have made the adjustment to get here?" Catherine practically squeaked. "I'm afraid so," Dr. S replied. "This is something that we have learned to expect and even accept. You girls have to remember that there are many, many things that you will experience over the next several months that are going to seem new, strange, and different from anything you might have experienced so far during your lives. Any one of these things could prove too much for your psyche to handle. For all the strength and resiliency of the human mind, the psyche remains a very delicate thing; one can never tell where an individual psyche's limits are until they are actually reached. In a way, it is like a pain tolerance. Everybody in this room has a specific tolerance to pain; some may be higher, some lower but there is always a 'breaking' point. It's the same for the mind. You all will be under a tremendous amount of stress for the next several months while going through this phase of the program. The problem is that we can only predict the general amount of stress each of you can handle; based on the testing that was performed before you reached this stage. We cannot, because we don't know, specifically, how much each of you can stand; conversely, we don't know what might constitute a 'breaking' point. This is one of the reasons we have adopted the individual and group therapy sessions into the basic curriculum, to monitor and adjust things as necessary. During these sessions all of the school's general rules will be suspended which means that you will be absolutely free to say or discuss anything. It's very important for each of you to realize our purpose here is not to torment you, or to torture your 'souls'; the purpose here, the purpose each of you has willingly volunteered for, is to find the answers needed to eventually put an end to violent crime and prisons." There was an almost profound silence in the room for several heartbeats while we all digested what we were told. True, we had heard all of this before but I could see where it might bear repeating given the unsettled states we were all in thanks to our instant transformations. "So what happens if we stress out in 'girl's school'?" Alessandra's face was one of pure innocent interest but I could almost hear the sneer in her voice. "Do we just get kicked out?" "Nothing so crass as that, dear," Dr. S answered tone for tone. "If it is something that the regularly scheduled individual or group therapy sessions; we might first try additional therapy sessions; if those don't work there is the possibility of medication. Believe me; we will attempt every possible avenue to help any of you adjust. Only if none of the above proves effective will we consider dropping a person from the program." She waited a couple of seconds to see if anyone else had anything to say on the subject. I didn't have anything to say but I had heard enough to know that I was developing a severe dislike for little miss Alessandra. "Okay, then, does anyone have any more questions before we move on?" Dr. S asked the room in general. "Umm, yes Doctor, I do." Kelly said thrusting her hand in the air. "You called us a 'class' and said that we would generally be taking all of our classes together; does that mean that we are the only students here? If we're not, then where is everybody; according to that clock over there, we have been in here for over three hours and I haven't seen anyone walk by the windows." "Very good Kelly," Dr. S said with some amusement. "Funny you should bring that up as that is the very topic we were to move on to before we give you a tour of the campus and show you to your dorms." She paused to look at every one of us individually. "To answer your questions, Kelly, no you are not the only students here. If you would take a second and look around you will see that the normal purpose of this room is that of a common or rec room. It is generally used by the student body between classes and during the period between the end of classes and lights out. If this group was the only one available to use this room, why spend the resources to make it so big? No, you ladies are not the only students in residence; there are actually just over ninety students at the moment and there will be more coming in during your stay here as well. The reason you haven't seen anybody outside the window Kelly is that we have isolated this group in a copy of the campus stage, if you will. We have done that to minimize shock and distractions. Once we got you through the initial processes, we can integrate you into the student body stage. That does bring up another point that you need to be aware of; you all know that you are participating in a massive computer program, with seeming unlimited capabilities; after all it just made you all girls. The point is this is a program, with the same limits such as calculations per second and bandwidth and such as any other program. That being the case, rest assured that we did not waste any of our resources on extras. Therefore, you will find none of what the video games call non player characters in this program; if you bump into someone or have any kind of interaction, I guarantee that person is real and addressing you through a computer generated avatar. With that said, and if there are no more questions, then let us get on with the tour of the campus." There were no more questions. Jeez! This is a pain. It has been a week since we all went through our orientation and transformation lecture and shown to our dorms. The dorms turned out to be two story buildings with two person rooms along each side of a long central hallway; split up about halfway down the hall by a large communal bathroom and shower. This wasn't really a problem except that my room was almost to one end of the hall. I ended up being paired with Brianna and Shelly and Kelly were paired together right next door. Alessandra and Catherine insisted on being paired together regardless of what was originally planned. That left Lucia to be paired with one of the older students from one of the different classes. All of our dorms were consecutive along the end of the hallway and we were led to them by one of the teachers at the school. We each had been given a key to our specific room which had a letter representing our dorm building and the number of our room embossed onto it. The room itself was almost exactly like I would have expected it to be. There was a pair of twin sized beds along one wall separated by a pair of night stands; a pair of mass produced desks with a comfortable wheeled office chair that was kind of a nice surprise, and a pair of free-standing armoires with matching dressers. On the nightstands and each of the desks was a lamp that could be used instead of the room's overhead light. We had to 'sit' through another orientation lecture; this one involving dorm rules, class schedules, and the like; all of which, we were told at the closing of the lecture, could be found in our laptops. These were already programmed to meet our basic needs, meaning that we could order clothing and personal item and such, and were waiting for us in our rooms. I don't know why they didn't just tell us about the computers and all of that instead of wasting the time with the lecture. Of course, I'm sure they aren't really interested in hearing from someone who has only been here a few hours. We weren't scheduled for anything else that first day and I personally was happy to close the door and close out the world. I immediately went to fire up the laptop and look at the schedule they had set for me. It didn't take me long to realize that this was going to be a lot less like going back to high school than I was really comfortable with. I turned to mention this to Brianna only to find her doing the same thing. It was a mutual apprehension about doing high school again that created the opportunity for conversation, and thus our friendship. After our initial statements of dismay, we had started to share stories about our high school careers when her hair finally got the best of her patience. "Gwen, would you please help me get rid of these things?" she asked almost plaintively. "I don't know who thought that these beads were a good idea but I would like to suggest that he wear the damn things. These things are not only heavy (I must be wearing about twenty pounds of wood in my hair) but all of this went out of style years ago. I don't know if I should be offended by this or not." She said all of that in one breath and I couldn't help but giggle which brought me up short; I have never giggled before and to hear me do it now shockingly brought the fact that I was a teenage girl right back to the forefront. Once I got past 'the moment' I told Brianna that I would be glad to help but she was going to have to show me what to do. We spent several hours working to free her hip length hair and those same several hours talking about everything except our offenses; nobody asked and neither volunteered. Nonetheless before we had her dark hair free I had begun to look up to her; she seemed so strong and confident. Even the transformation didn't seem to bother her. She just rolled with it and tried to make the best of it. She readily admitted, to me at least, that she was finding the whole transformation and its associated mixed feelings, inputs and emotions to be more than a little weird but nothing to come unglued about. I couldn't help but telling her that I had to admire her and why. It wasn't until I began to get ready for bed that I learned some things about myself; things none of the others felt comfortable in telling me. I began to undress, in front of Brianna as I could see no other way to accomplish it, and when I got my bra off, I happened to look at the tag; the number 30B told me that I was a lot smaller than I ever thought. This was kind of overwhelming to me and I found myself choking up and sobbing quietly. "What's the matter Gwen?" Brianna asked, turning away from her computer. "Nothing, I'm okay, go back to what you were doing," I said, trying to keep my voice low and steady (not easy to do when you are a high soprano like me) and tough it out. "Bullshit! Gwen you aren't the first girl I have ever seen; I know you aren't crying out of the sheer joy of life. So something must be bothering you. Now what is it?" "Look at this," I commanded while thrusting my bra at her. "Okaaayyy... so you're a B cup, so what? So am I, yeah I checked in the bathroom stall earlier," she admitted. "So how is that a problem?" "Not the cup size, the bra size!" I exclaimed exasperated. "It's tiny! I knew I shrunk a little during the transformation but I must really be small. I don't even know how tall I am. I mean, it's bad enough that I have to become a girl and go through high school again but why do I have to be a midget in the bargain? Didn't they say something about not wanting to humiliate us?" That was as far as I could go before I choked up again. "I think they said they weren't going to torture and torment," she cracked before turning more serious. "First of all you need to relax a bit. You are not a midget by any means, Gwen. Sure, you are small but you aren't that small. Even so you look really good; it's not like you are a late bloomer or something, you have curves and have obviously developed. And you are nowhere near ugly. That has to count for something, doesn't it?" she had come over and pulled me into her arms while talking to me. She didn't even mind my crying while she was talking. It never even occurred to either of us that I was a topless girl during the whole incident. She continued to hold me for several more minutes while I had a good cry; not saying anything just making gentle soothing sounds. As I cried myself out, she let go of me and asked if I were okay before suggesting that I continue with my plans for a shower before lights out. I thought that was good advice and finished changing before heading out into the hallway toward the showers. It wasn't until I got into the communal bathroom that I got a good look at myself. Brianna had been right, I was a long way from ugly; in fact, I was very cute. I possessed a small heart shaped face with big brown eyes, a small delicate nose and full lips; not the injected lips that are so common among the magazine models but just plain full kissable lips. Now why would I think about that? I'm not even sure that I want to be kissed, or by whom, yet that is how I describe my lips. I quickly brushed my teeth and made for the shower before I start asking myself more questions I may not want the answers too. The only noise more annoying than fingernails on a chalkboard is the intermittent buzz of an alarm clock. I had always hated the bloody thing but obeyed its impetus nonetheless. Not today, however; today I found myself jumping up and raring to go. For some reason I wanted to get on with this whole school thing. I pulled on my robe and scampered off to the bathroom while Brianna started to pull herself out of bed. My morning routine completed, I began to work my way through the clothes I had ordered the previous day, trying to figure out what to wear. I wasn't worried too much about looking good and impressing anyone, I was more interested in not looking stupid. A note here; we had been told, at one point in the introductory lectures, that there were no 'school uniform' requirements. The reason being is the people who dreamed this whole program up felt that would make things too easy and, therefore, to restricting to our experience. If everybody dressed the same five days a week, there would not be room to allow for personal taste and expression; something that is necessary if we are going to truly be 'born' female in anything resembling a reasonable amount of time. So, our dress code was pretty much like any other high school in the country: clean, intact clothes which cover the body sufficiently for decency and have no inflammatory, prejudiced, or offensive slogan and/or pictures anywhere on them. I decided on another pair of jeans, my sneakers, and a striped tee with capped sleeves. The truly embarrassing part of my morning was after I had put on my jeans (I had put on cotton bikini style panties after drying off from my morning shower), I immediately reached for my tee. From the time I was old enough to dress myself, I have done so in the same way: underwear after shower, jeans, shirt, then socks and shoes. Brianna had to remind me that I was forgetting something. I could feel my cheeks turning red as I dropped the shirt and walked over to my dresser for a bra. I put the bra on backwards and spun it around my body before slipping my arms into the shoulder straps. I then stuck my tongue out at Brianna while grabbing for the shirt lying on my bed. After I got that on, I had to endure another adventure called 'pulling miles of auburn hair out of the back of my shirt'; then, of course I had to be sure it was properly groomed. Not knowing what else to do, I emulated the way my ex girlfriend Julie, who also had long hair, would brush hers. She would bend forward at the waist and turn her head to one side, then brush all of her hair in downward strokes until she deemed it sufficient; at which point, she would flip all of it to the other side and repeat the process. I had a lot more hair than she did but it still seems to have worked; at least nobody commented that my hair didn't look properly groomed. Finally, I could make my bed (required by school rules) and head to the cafeteria for breakfast before my first class. I haven't mentioned my class schedule yet, although I did peruse it last night. I am scheduled for four mandatory classes that I must attend five days a week; plus, according to the guidebook, I can opt for additional, extra-curricular classes that would be held after the end of classes on specified days. We don't have a specific credit count needed to graduate; as mentioned before, 'born' female is the only test required to graduate the program. With that said, we do have a system of credits and demerits that can be counted for or against us individually; credits could be anything from authorization to order something outside the system's basic programming, while enough demerits could result in being restricted from activities and such. One other thing about the class schedule; I soon discovered that while this "girl's school" was set up to emulate a boarding high school, there were no classes that were not intended to help us to 'become' feminine. To that end, we would have four two hour classes split up with a one hour lunch break. I was not real happy to hear this; it sounded like it would make for a long day. First period I have Femininity 101. This class is designed to teach us all things feminine; which mean publically considered feminine. We will be learning everything from such obvious things as makeup, clothing and wardrobe coordination to the more physical skills such as how to stand, sit and walk realistically and believable. This is the class that will give us the basic physical skills that all women learn before they finish high school. Second period is Women's Studies. We just thought of is as 'everything you ever wanted to know, everything you never wanted to know, and those things you never thought to ask about being a woman. I can make fun of it now because however daunting the first impression of the class was, it turned out to be one of my favorite classes. The class was actually a bit of a twist from what the name usually implies; yes, it was women's studies but what that meant is that we studied women. Everything about them from basic health and hygiene to the cultural conventions and expectations placed on women, both today and historically, were on the agenda. Lunch comes at this point. Third period is Charm and Etiquette, which is actually a continuation of the Femininity class. In this class we will refine the basic skills learned in the other class and go on to include such things as poise, grace, and bearing; both in our physical actions and reactions and in our intellectual interactions with others. I have since learned that this class is generally called "Ladyship 101". Fourth period is Dance in which we learn all of the 'classic' ballroom dance steps one might see in a ballroom competition. Everything from the Foxtrot to the Waltz, Tango and, we were promised, some of the more fun Latin and Salsa dance steps. This class actually serves two functions according to the guidebook. First, it teaches grace and physical presence while allowing for a certain amount of physical exertion. Secondly, this class will give us some much needed social interaction with the opposite sex; a.k.a. boys. As I understand it, there are a group of college boys who are employed to drive the avatars that we will interact with. Of course, I didn't learn this until much later. After class on Mondays we have our group sessions while our individual sessions are scheduled for different times; mine is Tuesday afternoon. I was positively terrified the first time I walked into the Femininity classroom; it looked like a scene out of a movie about life in the theater. There were rows of lighted, mirrored makeup tables, racks of clothing, and shelves of wigs all around the room. The first lesson we would be taught were obviously the fundamentals of makeup for everyday use. That could have been funny if I had been sitting on the sidelines watching the girls' progress; as it was, with me involved, it wasn't so much fun. My first few attempts were absolutely hideous. It was only after those disasters, mine and others, that the teacher, who introduced herself by what she called her stage name of 'Madame Evangelica', who regularly performs as a burlesque style 'female impersonator', took us back to square one and began by telling us about colors, textures and palettes, as well as the differences between warm and cool colors; while at the same time explaining what was being done wrong in some of the more spectacular failures. I have to admit that I was rather impressed by the way she called attention to certain examples of botched makeup without mentioning names or otherwise calling attention to individual girls. Then, of all things, she gave us homework; we were to make use of the school's electronic library and read a specific book on cosmetology found therein to determine what changes could be made in our individual efforts and then read the library's copies of Cosmo and Vanity Fair and try to find different looks that might work for us. We were also told not to wear makeup until we had passed the introduction part of the course; passing meant that we could successfully apply our own makeup to fit any given occasion without embarrassing ourselves. On the other hand, we were allowed a complete kit for use to practice on our own. Charm class was even worse, if that is possible. I was a complete wreck from informational overload by the time the bell rang. By lunchtime, I was ready to crawl into a little ball and die. I felt like I had been tied into knots and was going to explode from some internal pressure. I quickly found out how closely we were being monitored as I approached the main building headed for the cafeteria. I was intercepted by an attractive woman who was just a little on the plump side. She was well dressed in a smart business suit that fit her well. As she approached me, she introduced herself as Mrs. Fink, the Vice Principal and asked after my well being. When I told her that I was okay, just stressed out by all the information on my first full day, she just looked at me levelly for a few seconds without saying a word. Those few seconds were all it took for my new feminine emotions to kick into high gear; I lost my grip on masculine stoicism and felt the tears begin to well up in my eyes. Almost immediately she pulled me into her arms and tried to comfort me as I began to tell her how I really felt. I think the thing that really made me wish I could bless her is when Brianna, who had been looking for me so we could have lunch together, arrived with Shelley and Kelly in tow. When they expressed their concern over what was happening to me, she just politely told them that I was suffering from an overload and would be fine with just a little break. She then told my friends that she would escort me to the infirmary to give me some place quiet where I can calm down and get ahold of myself. With that, she led me to a side door off of the main corridor. She held the door for me but when I walked through it I found myself in a very familiar hallway. With no better option presenting itself, I walked a way down the hall and politely knocked on Dr. Silvera's door. "Come in," I heard Dr. S' voice call out. I reached for the handle and slowly began to open the door. I saw Dr. S sitting at her desk looking expectantly at the door. "Gwendolyn, what are you doing here, dear?" she asked with some concern. "I don't really know Doc." I began uncertainly as Dr. S rose from her seat and made her way around the large desk towards me. "Some woman named Mrs. Fink, she told me she was the Vice Principal, said she was taking me to the infirmary and when I walked through the door, I wound up in the hall outside." "Okay dear," she said gently as she led into the sitting room portion of her office and sat me down in one of the comfortable chairs facing her couch, "why don't you tell me why Mrs. Fink wanted to take you to the infirmary." I didn't even hesitate for some reason, didn't even attempt to downplay what I was feeling, and began to tell her everything that I had felt throughout my first day at the school. I talked about how frightened I had become starting in my first class. I talked about how I began to feel overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I was expected to do and to remember. I talked about how my feelings got worse as the day wore on; until finally, I got to the point of being completely 'ill', for lack of a better word; which is when Mrs. Fink found me. Doctor Silvera sat relaxed and quiet and let me talk myself out. She had been expecting something like this; she just didn't know which of the girls it would be. She knew just how much pressure these girls were under and she believed she knew where their internal pressures were coming from. Everything that Gwendolyn was describing seemed to fit almost perfectly into her personal theory about sex offense; a theory she has as yet been successful in proving. Maybe this group of girls might just have the right combination of personalities to help toward that goal. After letting me ramble while I teared all over the place, Dr. S started asking me questions about how long this has been going on? When did it first notice it? At which point did the 'ill' feeling start? Simple questions like that. Then she started asking tougher questions; questions I actually had to think about. Things like, how did I feel about being a girl? In what ways did I feel different, aside from the obvious? Now that I have had a chance to read a little about the program, what were my feelings towards it? Is what I have seen and experienced so far different from what I thought it would be when it was first explained? If so, what are some of the differences? I answered the best I could; I really didn't know how I felt about being a girl, aside from the fact I was finding it interesting. I could remember how I would do things as a guy and would find that those techniques didn't necessarily translate to the female body. Like when I dropped my room key; before I would just bend over and pick it up but now, when I tried to do just that, I felt like I was going to fall on my face. I ended up actually bending my knees and almost squatting to reach the floor. I seem to be a lot more emotional now; yes I find myself crying a lot but there's more than that. All of my emotions seem to be stronger now. Sometimes it is overwhelming. Now that I have seen and been made aware of what is expected of me, I think that the program might actually be a good thing; if it can ultimately do what it is intended to do. I don't think that it is really different from what I was told to expect; I think now that I'm here, it's a lot more clear. It's one thing to be told that I am going to be a teenager again and I am going to be a girl too boot; it's a whole other thing to actually see it done and to feel the differences everywhere. "The only thing that I don't understand is why you guys had to make me so short," I complained, going off on a tangent. "I mean I feel tiny; but you said that we were mostly the feminine versions of ourselves. How can that be; neither mom nor dad are short. I have to tell you that I have to look up to everyone like I'm living in a land of giants. It's not only annoying it's kind of frightening too." "Calmly dear," Dr. S soothed. "We didn't lie to you; you were transformed into a female version of yourself; at least to the best of our ability and for the most part. The only changes that we made to your genetic template are those that we felt were necessary to teach you girls the lessons we feel you need in order to identify with your victim. So your being short is really a matter of genetics rather than one of deliberate action on our part. As for why, I would suggest you ask your mother when you write to her (that floored me until she allowed herself to go off on a tangent and explain that we could access the internet from within the program and, therefore, maintain contact with our families; in fact, it was encouraged). If you do, you will find out that while your mom is in the zone that is considered the national average in height for adult women, she did not have her growth spurt until almost the end of her senior year. Our research department was able to find a copy of your mom's first driver's license application form in a public archive that had her height listed at five foot one, and her weight at 94 pounds. So she was also a tiny thing when she entered high school." Great; I'm five nothing and 95 pounds. Well, so much for that idea, I thought becoming kind of bummed out. I was obviously stuck looking like a pygmy until and if I hit a growth spurt. Would they wait until my senior year? I was really hoping not. "Okay, Gwendolyn, let me ask you one last question and I'll let you go," Dr. S said, bringing the conversation back on track. "Did you ever want to be a girl, or think about being one?" "Umm..." I said stalling for time; I really didn't know how to answer this one. "I don't know if I ever wanted to be a girl," I started stiffly. "I think I may have wondered what it was like back when I was in high school but that was more curiosity I think. Girls were these wonderful alien creatures that were beyond the comprehension of me and my friends. So, yeah, I probably wondered about it." "Thank you dear," was all she said. She then started to tell me that she was going to send me to the infirmary to have some blood drawn. I was then told that she thought my problem was the high levels of hormones in my small frame combined with anxiety and 'mixed' signals from my psyche. Part of me wanted to do well in this program while the other part of me was afraid that I might do too well. She explained how hormones are actually powerful chemicals and how they can affect people. With my small frame this affect seems to be magnified. If that turns out to be the case, then simply prescribing mood stabilizers should do the trick. If it turns out to be more than that, we would probably initiate more frequent sessions together. Either way she would let me know. I left her office and made my way to the infirmary. The process of drawing blood only lasted a few minutes and I was sent back to class. It was already nearly the end of fifth period so I made my way to the ballroom in the main building where we would have Dance class. Boy! Talk about your mixed signals. I have always wanted to learn to dance but as a boy was afraid to let anyone know. Now, I have the opportunity to fulfill that particular dream but to do so I have to let a boy put his arms around me. I wasn't sure that I could actually go through with that part. I was sitting in a chair along the side wall when Brianna came in with Shelley and Kelly. They all saw me and immediately made a beeline to where I was. "Hey Gwen," Brianna said cheerfully as she sat beside me. "Are you alright?" "Yeah, what did the nurse say?" Shelley asked sitting on my other side while Kelly pulled and empty chair around to sit facing me. "Yeah, I'm okay; I didn't see the nurse though," I said answering both of their questions. "I was taken to see Dr. S; she told me that I had an anxiety attack because our elevated hormone levels affect me much stronger because I am so small." They were all happy with that answer and thankfully let the matter drop. A couple of moments later, we watched as Lucia opened the door and sullenly entered the room. I wondered what could have happened to her; she didn't seem bothered by anything in class earlier. Before I could articulate my concern Alessandra entered the room but there was no sign of Catherine. Alessandra walked to the wall where all the chairs were located and selected one several seats away from all of us; while Lucia had already sat in a chair a couple of seats to the other side. She looked as if she were saying 'I am part of the class but I want to be alone'. We all respected the silent request. We all turned toward the main entry as it opened again and in walked a tall, slender, elegant older lady with perfectly styled short white hair. She was followed across the dance floor by a line of six boys who looked like they were in high school as well. She introduced herself as Ms. Newsome and explained she was to be our dance instructor. She then went ahead and introduced the boys lined up behind her. She asked that we step forward when our names were called to be paired up with our partners. This looked like it was going to be humiliating as the shortest of the boys looked to be about an inch taller than Alessandra. It wasn't until she called Catherine's name that we had any inkling as to where she might be. "Catherine?" Ms. Newsome called out. "She's not here," Alessandra replied grudgingly. "She got sick at the end of second period and a couple of older girls took her to the infirmary." "Oh, in that case," Ms. Newsome said graciously. "I will just have to have one of you boys run music for us." I am not going to even attempt to remember the boys' names; all I know is: I got paired with the shortest of the group. His name was Kyle and he told me that he and the others were students at a local school, all of them were on the baseball team, and all of them were students of Ms. Newsome, thanks to their coach. He never did explain why their coach felt they needed ballroom dancing lessons. Kyle was, I found out, stocky rather than hefty like I originally thought; he was also just about solid muscle and a lot more graceful than his build might suggest. At first Ms. Newsome showed us the steps and informed us that the boys already knew this part so all we girls had to do is let ourselves be led. Oh sure, lady! And how am I supposed to do that? Of course I didn't say anything; I just looked at Kyle and hoped I didn't freak out when he tried to take me in his arms. Needless to say I was very stiff as we started to dance and nowhere near coordinated; I must have stepped on his poor foot a dozen times within the first few minutes. "You know," he whispered gently to me. "This will go a lot smoother if you relax and let me lead." "Yeah, I know but I don't know how to do that," I replied in a conspiratorial whisper. He began to talk me through the steps as we twirled around the circle. He kept his voice gentle and light while counting off cadences for me. I soon found myself relaxing enough that I could follow the steps without too many mistakes and, in a very short time; I was almost able to hold a conversation while we danced. I found out that all of the boys present were here because they all had a study hall during this period and would get extra credit for making the field trip over here. Kyle didn't mind because he got out of a boring class period and got to dance with a pretty girl; a new one that hasn't heard all of his stories a hundred times already. I replied that was true and I was new. "That is something I wanted to ask, if I may Gwen," Kyle started a bit unsure of his ground. "Why is it that none of you new girls ever wear makeup? I always thought that by this time it was as necessary as say a bra. Don't get me wrong, you and your friends are gorgeous but none of you have so much as lip gloss on." "Oh that," I replied trying to find a way to give him a plausible short answer. "That is because of the teacher who teaches our Charm class. She insists that we not wear makeup until we know all of the ins and outs, and the history and origins, of the stuff we are using. That means that we will, hopefully, be allowed lip gloss before the beginning of next semester." He was about to say something else when we were suddenly interrupted by a shrill feminine voice cursing followed by a rapid OOF! WHACK! THUD! We all quickly turned toward the commotion only to find Kelly with her face beet red, her teeth bared, her feet in a fighter's stance and her fist balled. "WHAT?!" she demanded of the room in general. "The Son of a Bitch Grabbed My Ass!" On the ground between her spread feet lay her dance partner curled up into a fetal position while holding his injured groin and moaning pitifully. She had answered his actions with a knee to the groin, followed quickly by an apparently nice right cross on his way down. Needless to say, that definitely put a damper on our dance lessons. Ms. Newsome walked over to the prone moaning boy and told him, in no uncertain terms, to get up and go and sit down. She also told him that she would be having more than a few words with his coach before turning to Kelly and asking if she were alright. When she said that she was, Ms. Newsome turned to the boy handling the music and suggested that he partner Kelly for the remainder of the lesson. You would have thought that she had just fed him to the lions the way he looked as he cautiously approached the fiery redhead. It wasn't until after classes that our first day really took a downward turn. This was supposed to be the first session of our group therapy program. We already knew that Dr. S would not be facilitating this group so we were a little apprehensive about who might be. After all, Dr. S knew about our transformations, hell she gave them to us, but what would a stranger think about the whole thing? We all proceeded from the ballroom to the commons room and then to a smaller room off to one side that had been set up for just this purpose. We already knew that we were not the only group undergoing group therapy and all of the therapy groups used either this room or its twin on the other side of the commons room. As we walked into the room, the four of us were in animated conversation about the boy who grabbed Kelly's butt and what she did about it; while Lucia and Alessandra followed, separately, a short distance behind us. We were greeted by a woman in what looked to be her early to mid twenties. She was brown haired, brown eyed and attractive; if you like the doe eyed leggy athletic type. Who am I kidding; we all did a double take at the sight of her. She was not alone as we had expected; standing in the corner of the room was Dr. S who urged us to find seat from the selection of comfortable seating available around the room. Once we were all seated, Dr. S introduced the woman as Blaire Cassidy; she was the facilitator for our class' group therapy program. She assured us that we would have plenty of time to get to know her as we went along; but for now, Dr. S had a couple of things to discuss with the class. "As you all can see, Catherine is not here," she started simply which was guaranteed to capture our attention. "Don't worry, she is fine but she has been pulled out of the program; we all hope that it is only temporarily. Earlier today, Catherine apparently suffered a breakdown; what drove her to such a state is something we still do not know. Something we won't know until she regains consciousness. As a result of her nervous state, she was removed from the program and disconnected from the hardware by order of medical authority. It will take some time for her male body to flush the drugs that are keeping him in suspension. Once she wakens we hope she will be able to tell us what triggered her reaction. Should it be something readily correctable, she will be offered the option of returning to the program; should it be something more serious, we will move her to a therapeutic wing for more intensive treatment, where we can help her to find what triggered today's events. Should she complete said treatment successfully, she will again be afforded the option of returning to class. Don't worry ladies," she said in closing looking straight at me. "We are not going to just boot a girl out of the program for a psychological reaction they have no control over." "Is there anything we can do to help?" I asked I figured what the hell; she was looking at me anyway. "What's there to help?" Alessandra asked caustically. "Catherine went crazy trying to pretend to do all of this sissy girl shit!" I saw Dr. S' eyes go ice cold. "First of all, Alessandra, let me tell you that Catherine is in no way shape or form 'crazy' and to say otherwise is just plain rude and spiteful. Secondly, we are not now and never will try to make you any kind of 'sissy'. Third, I would remind you that ladies do not use that sort of language in public and I would thank you to refrain from it in my presence in the future. And fourth, dammit, you need to remember that you volunteered for this; that means all of it. You didn't have to, nobody twisted your arm or coerced you in any way; you did so for the sole purpose of staying out of prison. Should you wish to change your mind, I will be more than happy to accommodate you. All you have to do is open your mouth and say the word!" The room was deathly silent as every head turned toward Alessandra to see what she would say next. Her face had gone dead white while her jaw was working like a landed fish but no words were coming out. As we watched, I could see the red color slowly creep into her skin and she lowered her eyes shamefully. I turned back to Dr. S to see what, if anything, she would say next. "As for your question, Gwendolyn, you could offer her encouragement," she said conversationally as she regained control of her temper. "She will be told that she can still access the internet and her email; so if you wish to contact her via that connection, I will give you her public address. It might do her good to hear that her class cares but be warned; we don't know why she broke down in the first place, we only know that something in the program triggered it. That being the case, she may not want to have any more to do with the program or its participants. So don't be offended if you don't hear from her in response." With that statement, she sat down to Blaire's right and said that while she was already here she might as well participate in today's session; besides she was interested in what we had to say about our first day at school. Unfortunately, she never got the chance as I saw Lucia out of the corner of my eye, lean forward and rest her elbows on the table in a very masculine gesture. She scrubbed her pretty face with her hands before beginning to speak. "Dr. Silvera," she began in a throaty whisper before bolstering her courage. "I don't want you to get mad, and I don't mean any disrespect but I want out. I'm sorry, I know I volunteered, and I really wanted to do this but I just can't. It just doesn't feel right and it's driving me nuts to try to pretend that it does." She then turned to the rest of us before continuing. "Please believe me, it's not any of you guys; it's me. I don't have anything against any of you and I won't hold anything against you but this is just not me." It was at that point that all of her strength abandoned her and she slumped back in her chair waiting for Dr. S' response. She just looked at the young Hispanic girl for a few seconds; her eyes a mystery. "Are you sure that is what you want, Lucia?"She finally asked quietly. All the girl could do is nod mutely as a flood of silent tears ran down her pretty cheeks as she struggled to manfully control her emotions. I watched Shelley as she went around the table to take the seat next to Lucia and gently lean over to hold her troubled classmate. None of us had known, or really talked to, Lucia; she had given us the impression that she wanted to be left alone and we had honored that. Now, I couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if we had made the effort to include her despite the signs. Could we have made her feel comfortable enough to stay in the program with us? I didn't know it at the time but this was to become a question I would ask myself many, many times. "You do know what will happen if you leave the program, don't you Lucia?" Dr. S asked gently successfully masking the emotional pain she was enduring at this turn of events. It wasn't until after the girl had nodded her head jerkily that she continued. "Very well, then if that is your decision, we will, of course, abide by it, but, I want you to know that we regret you're leaving us and we all will miss you." Lucia's head jerked up at that last statement and she looked around the room in apparent surprise. She didn't think anyone would care if she stayed or went but the obvious truth in Dr. Silvera's voice told her she had been wrong. When she saw the rest of us looking in her direction, trying to be supportive, she realized that we did care and would come together to help if we could. She reached up and gave one of Shelley's hugging arms a squeeze of thanks and turned back to Dr. S. "Thank you, Ma'am," was all she said. Suddenly the door opened to reveal the pleasant countenance of Mrs. Fink, the vice principal, standing in the doorway. Dr. S told her what was going on and asked her to escort Lucia back to her dorm room so she may gather her things and take to the administration wing to make arrangements to have her transferred and transported. As Lucia started to rise in response to Mrs. Fink's signal, we all suddenly rose with her and quickly surrounded her in press of bodies as each of us gave into the unspoken, but obviously unanimous, urge to give her a hug of goodbye. I was very shocked to see Alessandra join in the group hug. With that, Lucia walked out the door which quietly closed behind her. We all returned to our seat; a little sullen and distracted as we realized what was to happen to her and the fact that we would probably never see her again. Our personal thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outburst from Dr. S. "Damn!" She exclaimed; whole volumes of exasperation, disgust and failure were evident in that one word. "I had hoped she would have made the transition," she said quietly to Blaire Cassidy. "Excuse me, Doc, but what do you mean 'you hoped'?" It was Kelly who politely disturbed the doctor's introspection. We could all see the conflicting emotions evident on the older woman's face as she tried to decide if she could discuss these thoughts with us; after all, we were her test subjects and this issue had was not something that we really needed to know. "Well Kelly, I'll tell you something," she began a few seconds later having made her decision. "When we were setting the basic format for this experiment, we knew that we would have the toughest time reaching Hispanic and African American males. This is due to what we call cultural issues; I'm sure you can attest to this Brianna." She included, looking at the tall black girl. "Both of these cultures place a great deal of stock in the idea of manliness, of being in control of oneself and one's surroundings; the Latino communities call it Machismo and, while I don't know if there actually is a word for it in the African American sub-culture, the concept is very much the same for both groups. Because this concept is based on 'masculinity' it is very testosterone and alpha male oriented. Therefore, in both sub-cultures, any male who is considered less than a man; i.e. one who may seem effeminate, trans- gendered, bi-sexual, or especially gay, would be treated with disdain, ridicule or even violence. A little side-bar here ladies; I hate the term 'homosexual' as I feel it sounds like a disease and was intentionally coined in an effort to belittle and demean gay men and women. Anyway, back to what I was saying. With these prejudices prevalent in both sub-cultures, our challenge would be to reach sex offender representatives of these groups without triggering the natural self defenses such tendencies engender. We had hoped we had created a screening process that would enable us to find such representatives; it is through that screening process that both Lucia and Brianna came to be with us." She paused, sitting back and collecting herself before turning her attention to Brianna. "Brianna, dear, do you have any insights to what I just said?" "Umm, I don't know Doc," she replied with a look of deep thought on her pretty face. "I don't think I ever thought about it before; being a man and having that respect was just something were supposed to do. I never got into all that for some reason though. Do you think that means I am what did you say, less than a man?" "No dear," Dr. S responded confidently. "I would hazard a guess that means that you are more laid back and adaptable than some of your contemporaries. That was one of the screening criteria we included by the way; the project design team felt that adaptability was the key to getting the previously mentioned cultural groups involved with the project. Adaptability usually denotes intelligence and the proclivity to 'go with the flow' so to speak. You may not particularly enjoy what you are experiencing but will go along with it to meet the ends you feel necessary." With that she turned our remaining time back over to Blaire; who insisted that we go around the table and introduce ourselves and say something about ourselves. I thought that was pretty pointless; we have been female for just about twenty-four hours, what the hell did we know about ourselves? I was duly surprised when each of us was actually able to share something new with the group. Yes, that included me. When my turn came, I mentioned that I had noticed that I seem to have become more outgoing than I was before. I don't know if it is due to the hormonal changes or what it is but I was always very much the introvert before I came here. "Very good ladies," Blaire complemented us for being willing to open up to each other. "Now, that the introductions are complete, Gwendolyn- do you prefer Gwendolyn or Gwen, dear?" She paused waiting my response; when it told her either was fine, she continued. "Okay, Gwendolyn, why don't you tell us a little about what happened earlier today?" I KNEW IT! I should have seen it coming. Worst of all, I couldn't see any way to get out of talking about my attack from earlier. "Well, I guess I should start with..." Nancy Silvera sat back in the large comfortable chair at her desk rubbing her temples lightly; the long hours recently spent in the system had left her with some residual tensions. On the desktop in front of her sat an open laptop computer on which she had been reviewing and organizing the notes and data she would need for her final task of the evening. She leaned forward and reached for the device as she stood up and stepped away from her desk. Walking into the sitting room portion of her double office, she reached down to grab a handy remote control device and aimed it at a large picture above the fireplace. As she sat in one of the comfortable chairs facing the fireplace she tapped a sequence on the laptop's keyboard; causing the picture to fade out only to be replaced by an even dozen moving faces in twelve separate but smaller screens within the whole. "Good evening all," she said pleasantly. "I suppose we ought to get started if everyone is present." "Hello Nancy," said a distinguished looking man from one of the center screens. "Everybody who should be is here so if you are sure you're ready we can get started." "Hi Daniel, yes I think I'm ready," Dr. Silvera replied confidently. "Let the record show that on this date representatives for the board of directors along with the project review committee of the Sogenics Corporation has gathered to hear progress reports and observations from Dr. Nancy Silvera and key members of the project team in relation to the 'Alternate Reality' treatment model. I am Daniel Middleton, Deputy Chairman of the Board and on my right..." the deputy chairman continued to introduce the various members of the combined committee before turning the floor over to Dr. Silvera. "Dr. Silvera, anytime you're ready." "Thank you Mr. Chairman. As the board knows we are completing the final testing stage of the 'alternate reality' model for the treatment of sex offenders and, eventually, other criminal offenders. The basis of this model is the total immersion of the offender's psyche into a virtual world capable of full sensory and emotional feedback; thus creating a viable illusion of actually experiencing programmed events or incidents." She went on to summarize the general background by way of reminder to the various members of the board. Then she brought up the advent of small classes of 'students' as a way of quickly refining the programs; to that end, she invited members of the project team to interject or explain specific areas or capabilities of the overall program. At this point, the discussion turned to the topic of 'treatment' for the program's participants and how that was being integrated into the teaching stages. Finally, Dr. Silvera brought up the topic of the program's ultimate incarnation. "It sounds like you and your teams are doing very well, Doctor," said a stylish attractive older woman with nearly white hair. "I have seen the figures and flow charts and you seem to be ahead of schedule. Does that mean that you are ready to move into the next phase?" "Yes Ma'am, it does; my design team has run numerous scale simulations without error or glitch. We have secured connectivity and bandwidth; as well as eliminated data drag. The whole system has been optimized for maximum performance speeds with minimal lag." "You said minimal lag; that is not the same as no lag, is it Doctor? Won't that lag be noticed by our clients?" "If I may, Ma'am," interjected a male voice issuing from one of the other screens. "The level of time lag that Dr. Silvera is referring to is measured in micro-seconds; this is way, way too small an increment for anything short of a micro-processor to notice." That seemed to settle the concerns of the senior woman. "I am concerned about reports of this latest class of volunteers," another woman spoke up as the conversation ended. "Perhaps you could tell us a bit about your pupils? You have already lost fifty percent of your class and they have been in the program for barely twenty four hours. This does not sound like a favorable proposition to me." "Unfortunately, I have to agree with you on the surface; to be down by half this soon does not look favorable. While there is nothing we could do about the two volunteers who were unable to make the adaptation to alternate reality, the one who refused to do so has shown us that we have to make some changes in our screening methods and, possibly, criteria. I was personally bitterly disappointed by the dropping out of our Hispanic volunteer, I had such high hopes I guess, but the sociology team is already re-evaluating our approaches to those cultural hurdles. On the other hand, we do have hopes that our one volunteer, Catherine, will be able to rejoin the project. The volunteer had been revived from suspension just prior to the beginning of this conference and I have had initial reports stating he is willing to work with psych staff to understand why he broke down. It may yet be that we can help him overcome, or at least work around, the triggers that caused the initial breakdown." "That sounds well and good," a heavy-set balding man wearing small wire framed glasses whined nasally. "But I see that you had another case of emotional breakdown that wasn't pulled from the program; can you tell us about her and why you chose to keep her in?" "Yes sir," Dr. Silvera responded nonplussed. "Gwendolyn suffered a strong but simple anxiety attack brought on by a fear of failing the program paired with a fear of 'not failing', of fully identifying with her avatar. With this volunteer, I believe we may have stumbled onto a genuine unrecognized type I Intersexed psyche; having looked at her background, her history, and her baseline test results, she seems to meet all the criteria." "What does that mean, Doctor?" somebody asked. "We all have masculine and feminine influences within ourselves; these are found in both the physical and mental spheres, although most common in physical manifestation. Historically, in a case of physical intersexed manifestation, the nature of the manifestation was often overlooked, or, if blatant enough, arbitrarily corrected at birth. Some of these arbitrary corrections then grew up to have satisfactory lives; these people we refer to as type I, which means that their psyche is adaptable and balanced enough to be comfortable in either gender role. Others grew up conflicted and suffering what is considered to be trans- gendered desires or tendencies. It has only been through transgender therapies that the cause of this conflict becomes recognizable; i.e. the arbitrary gender correction got it wrong at birth and this wasn't known until the onset of puberty. For these people sexual reassignment surgeries are truly the only way they can become whole. With that said, there is another sphere of intersex influence; this sphere is strictly mental in its manifestation. In cases of intersexed mentality one gender identification is usually sublimated and submerged under the dominant identifiers such as physical appearance, upbringing, taught beliefs and behaviors, and similar factors. So it is very often the case a type I mentality would be completely unaware of the condition; they would be functional and generally stable but would often lack confidence, especially in interactions with the opposite s