The Reluctant Housewife

If only I had listened to the warnings about drugs. In my defense though, I have had a rotten life up until this present moment. A moment that finds me staring down the barrel of a shotgun in a private hospital in the middle of the night.

The first few years of my life were like many other people's. I was the only child of loving but poor parents. I was always on the small side which led to bullying at school, but that was normal. Schools say they hate bullying, but most of them turn a blind eye to it.

My problems started when my parents died in a fire when I was young. We never had any insurance and none of my relatives wanted me. I was left to the mercy of the system. I learned quickly that strangers were not the only source of danger. I was abused by the staff and some of the "inmates" of the care home.

I ran away at and lived by my wits. I learned to shoplift and grift. I had a sweet setup with a few other runaways in a squat for nearly 10 years. I was streetwise but often bored. I think that was what led me to try heroin. My habit got so bad that none of the people I had called friends could stand to be around me. I had stolen from all of them and chased out of all the safe places I knew.

The addiction was all. I did many things that no normal person would do, "Chasing the Dragon ". I was reduced to sleeping in shop doorways and stealing from old ladies. Now in Britain in 2031, there was a worse recession than 2008-9. Crime was at an all-time high. The government adopted a three-strikes rule. Three strikes meant thirty years with no early release.

The prisons were now run by corrupt private companies. The death rates inside were at record levels. No one cared. When your kids go to school hungry, who cares about a con being offed?

I had done my three strikes. I managed to give the police the slip two weeks before. I had stolen a tent from a garden shed and had been living in it for two weeks. I was camped a couple of miles outside town. Britain has more security cameras than any country in Europe. If I went into town for too long I would be picked up by facial recognition. This meant I could only get a fix a few times a week. I was a shivering wreck.

I was desperately looking for something to steal and sell when I came across the private hospital. It was very small for a hospital and appeared to be joined to a two-story house. A hospital meant drugs. If I could get some methadone I may be able to kick my habit.

There must have been a silent alarm. I was in the process of trying to kick down the door when I heard a click behind me. I turned and saw a double-barrelled shotgun pointed at my face.

"Give me one good reason not to shoot you. " Said the tall, distingished-looking man holding the gun."

"That.. that would be murder. You c..can't."

"Don't you watch the news? No one cares about criminal scum like you. Look at the state of you. Are you an addict?"

"Yes.. please, I just need some methadone. Please I haven't had a fix for two days, this is killing me. I'll do anything you want."

"I am well aware of what addiction does young man. I am a doctor. I am going to call the police."

"No please don't. I have had my three strikes. I'll die in prison. It's not fair."

"Why should I care? You were trying to steal from me."

He pulled out his phone and started to unlock the screen. In desperation, I fell to my knees and begged.

"Please no. Please, I will do anything you want, anything!"

He had dialed the first two digits and paused. He looked down at me.

"Anything?"

I was very close to him. My head was level with his pajama bottoms. I swear I saw his dick twitch when he said "anything". Did he want me to blow him? It wouldn't be the first time for me. A drug dealer had made me do it several times when I had been short of money for my fix. Heroin robs you of all self-respect.

I reached forward with my right hand.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing? I'm not gay."

"Sorry.. I thought."

He told me to stand and pushed me into a closet and locked the door. My body was on fire. My stomach was cramping. I was sure I would pass out soon. I started to cry.

Ten minutes later I heard him outside the door.

"Listen very carefully. I have decided to do a good deed. I am going to save your life."

"Oh thank you.. but I need..."

"SHUT UP!. I talk you listen. I have a syringe of methadone with me."

My heart leaped at that. I must get that now. It took all that was left of my willpower not to scream. My skin felt like it was crawling with ants.

"I have decided you are going to repay for your misdeeds by working them off for me. I need someone to do light secretarial work, a little nursing, and housework."

"But I."

"One more interruption and I empty this syringe on the floor! I will let you out, then you will sign a contract. Then you will lay on the gurney and I will administer your injection."

I would sign my soul away for what was in that syringe. I did not look at what I signed. I scribbled my name on it and collapsed on the gurney.

He looked at the paper I had signed and expelled a small amount of fluid from the needle. I felt the needle enter one of the few veins that were not wrecked in my arm and waited for the relief I knew would come.

The man looked down on me. It was like a predator looking at prey he had just brought down.

"My name is Dr. Tom Roberts. Firstly, what is your name, and how do you feel?"

I felt the pain of withdrawal lessening. I did not feel high I felt sleepy, very sleepy.

"I'm Simon, Simon Parks. I feel so tired. What was in that syringe?"

"You will pass out soon Simone. There was methadone in there as well as a sedative. You are my project. I will get you clean and make you a useful person Simone. First I need to make a few adjustments to your body to suit your new role. Sleep tight."

Did he call me Simone? What was going on? I tried to rise, but collapsed and passed out.

I awoke in that wonderful state where you feel relaxed before your brain kicks in and you remember what has just happened to you. I saw a drip in my arm. I sat up slowly. I felt different. When I was upright I saw what it was. I had breasts.

"No. What the fuck!"

My hand went up and grasped them. They were real. They were mine, not fakes. My voice, which did sound like me, but raspy though it was way too high.

Dr. Tom entered the room carrying a cup of water.

"Good, you're awake. I see you have discovered some of the modifications I have made. Drink this."

My throat was very sore. I painfully gulped the water and said.

"What the fuck have you done to me?"

"Why Simone, I have carried out the procedures you requested and signed for. Before you start screaming, I will tell you how this is going to work. But first, let's get this over with."

He pulled back the blanket and lifted the hospital gown I was wearing. I stared down in utter shock. My cock was missing. I let out a hissing scream.

"Before you get too upset, it is still there. I have pushed your testicles up into your abdomen pushed your penis between your legs and sewn your scrotum over it."

"Why? Why have you done this to me?"

"I need a housekeeper, a secretary, and a nurse. You will fulfill those roles. You signed a consent form for all these procedures including vocal cord tightening and breast augmentation. These will help you settle into your new role. I have always had a woman doing those jobs. My wife did it up until she left. Fucking bitch."

I just gaped at my ruined body. He continued.

"You have been in a medical coma for six weeks now. You are nearly fully healed. I will get you some soup, then I will remove your catheter and you can come into the house. My wife left some clothes, they should fit you."

"If you think I'm going to dress up as a woman for you, you sick fuck."

He cut me off.

"You forget. I have CCTV footage of you breaking in. How long do you think you would last in prison? What do you think is going to happen when you start craving your next hit? You can feel it already, can't you? You need your next shot."

He was right. I could feel the need again. As much as I hated what he wanted me to do it was better than living like an animal in the woods. Scavenging food from bins, stealing to pay for my next hit.

"You worked it out, haven't you? You don't have a choice. It's this or prison and probably death. I will make sure you get a twice-daily dose, providing you cooperate Simone. Yes, Simone is your name now. "

He left to while I sat dumbstruck. I had signed the consent form. How could I report him? If I went anywhere near the police they would arrest me. It was this life or none. I was trapped.

He returned with a mug of soup a waited until I finished it. He then helped down a corridor and into his house. My legs started to loosen up as he helped me up the stairs. We entered a large and very feminine room. He told me to sit on the bed while he chose some suitable clothing.

He rummaged through draws and wardrobes and I looked at what awaited me. There was a soft black lace pair of knickers and a matching bra and suspender belt. A silky white blouse, black stockings, a black pencil skirt, and 3-inch black court shoes. I would look like a typical secretary when I was dressed.

"Right, before you dress take a shower. You won't have to worry about shaving, I got rid of all that pesky body hair while you were in the coma."

I took off the robe and slowly walked to the shower. Dr. Tom looked at my modified body with what I am sure was lust.

I never know if I should continue stories like this or just leave them as stand-alone. You can tell how this one is probably going to go. Should I continue?