X-change: Remedial School Pt. 02

"You know what I want to do," she said. "Let's not waste any more time."

Yvette kissed me once more. Then she pulled her floral print dress up over her head. Her bra and panties beneath were fine lace—expensive. They clung to those most precious bits of her. The bra held back those high and perfect tits on her. The underwear contained her hot, moist sex. I stared at it through its lace prison. I would be there soon, I knew. Inside of her hot, hard body.

It took me only seconds to strip off my t-shirt and sweat pants. Not like I'd been dressing to impress anyway. That required a level of money and freedom that I didn't currently possess. We met again—closeup in our underwear. Shear lace keeping my cock away from her pussy.

Yvette tugged my boxers off, and we left them on the floor. I grabbed at the sweet roundness of her ass, and then pulled her panties down. Once she was exposed, I beheld the swollen glory of her pussy. I could she that she was dripping wet in front of me.

Yvette undid her bra. Her generous breasts spilled free like beasts unleashed for my satisfaction. I couldn't help but to lean forward and take one swollen nipple in my mouth. The entire time thinking of how wonderful if would be to drink milk from that breast.

"Tell me what you want," said Yvette.

"I want to fuck you."

"Then fucking take me now, boyfriend."

I pushed her back onto the bed. Our bodies melded together like old friends. Yvette spread her legs for me. Her pink quim ripe for the taking. I pressed my rigid cock into her, and the feeling was something I could barely describe. Like entering a hot, ripe fruit filled with butter. I struggled not to blow my load inside of her right then. I felt so at home in the hot folds of her most private place. Her pussy was perfection if you don't understand.

I fucked her for several minutes before we spoke again.

She said, "Do you really like me this way?"

"You're amazing."

"Good. I've wanted you for so long, Bobby. I love having you inside of me."

Being connected a we were was something so right that it was hard to appreciate. We kept going for several more minutes, but eventually I felt those all too familiar tingling signs of the end. The head of my cock was nearly hurting with its need to release. In my sex-addled mind there was nothing more desirable than to pump Yvette's quim full of as much cum as possible. Pregnancy? Yeah, that was a delectable consequence that my fucked-up brain was ready for. Our baby would of course be beautiful, I thought.

"Yvette," I barely managed. "I'm going to..."

She kissed me. "Do it, baby. Pump me full of all of it."

Not long after I gave into nature. My cock pulsed and filled Yvette with all of its built-up seed. She clung to me tightly. Her pussy was my entire world. When I filled her with everything that I had it was like I died on top of her.

There was a moment when I completely rested on top of her and we were perfect. Perfection doesn't last though. It comes to head like a boil, and you're left to hope that it bursts even if the end of it might be painful and leave a scar. I rolled off of Yvette and lied there next to her. We were both breathing deeply for a time. It had been a wonderful thing that we enjoyed, but there was something else on my mind. Britney...I mean we weren't serious yet. Or were we?

Yvette curled up to me. "What're you thinking about?"

"That question again," I said. "Maybe these pills are too good. Remember when we all used to complain about girls when they talked that way?"

"That was high school, Bobby. Besides, this is who I'm supposed to be."

"Are you serious? You'd take that permanent one?"

She looked at me closely. "Yeah," she said. "You can't understand it until you take one, Bobby. I mean: I still have a life as 'Ethan' and that can be a good thing, but then who's to say what I could be as 'Yvette'?"

"A girl forever though?"

She smiled. "Yvette's very popular and I could get a lot of opportunities for school and work. 'Ethan' is smart, but people think that he's an asshole. People want to like 'Yvette'."

"But you'll be..."

"Happy. Just think: if we keep doing this, I could end up having your baby."

"Umm...Yvette..."

She laughed. "I'm just kidding, Bobby. I'm having too much fun to have a kid now. Besides: I haven't made up my mind yet. I want to get a feel for what my parents will think."

"Our parents? Yeah. What'll they think about all of this? They'll go to the media or something."

She shook her head. "Nope. They know, Bobby. Even though we're all legal adults the program wanted their approval for us to get here. That means that your mom and dad knew that there was a chance that you'd come back as a girl."

"No way," I said. "My parents watch Fox News and complain about every stupid liberal program out there. This..."

"—is going to be marketed as the true 'rehabilitation' for violent male criminals. In our media/marketing class we're studying some of the possible commercials and brochures they'll make to advertise it. 'It's going to be huge'," she said in her best Donald Trump impression.

"This is sick."

"Nope. It's America." Yvette slapped my stomach. "Chill out. You've been having a good time with it. Beats prison, right?"

I agreed that it did. But on the inside, I still had that feeling that something was very wrong with the whole thing. Yvette told me that she had things to do that didn't involve me. I got the hint and made my leave.

My stroll across the campus facility was quiet. The students that were out of their rooms were catching up on a little bit of socializing or just enjoying the near empty halls and the peace that filled them. I wasn't used to that variety of quiet anymore. JDC could be very quiet when the guards enforced it, but that silence was always pregnant with tension over something that almost or did happen. On the campus of the Program, it was different. I looked around everywhere for something to be wrong, yet there was nothing. Maybe everything that I'd been through had left me a little too paranoid. I'm sure that my counselors would have plenty to say about my anti-social tendencies, and my lack of trust. Would they recommend that I take the pill? There was something tempting about it, but the more I considered what I'd seen the more I wonder how it really affected Brett and Ethan. Were they even the same anymore? What would be made of me?

I was already halfway to Brett's room before I realized it. My desire screamed at me that it was because I wanted to be with Britney again, but my guilt whispered that I needed to confess to her. That inner debate continued until I was right outside Brett's door.

I rolled the dice and knocked.

Brett opened the door. He still had his towel on from getting out of the shower.

He smiled. "Hey, Bobby. I was getting ready. They gave me some more pills. Britney can come back tonight if you promise to treat her well."

"We need to talk."

The hope and excitement that been alive in Brett's gray eyes died. Fear and uncertainty sprouted like weeds from their grave. This was setting up the kind of honesty that is a crime. Doing the right thing is cruel. I entered the room, and closed the door behind me. Inside, Brett sat down on the bed.

He was brave as always. "What's wrong?"

"I had sex with Yvette...Ethan...well, Yvette. I'm sorry."

He stood up and walked towards me. "Why?" he asked. "Why would you do that?"

"I don't know. It happened."

"I told you...Ethan blamed us for what happened. He's a rat. He doesn't care about you."

"She's better than that. She does care about me."

"And I don't? You're an idiot, Bobby. Seriously..."

"You don't know what you're talking about. Ethan and I have been friends for years. It makes sense for us to be together this way. You and I...it doesn't..."

"Doesn't mean anything," he said. "That seems to be where you're going with this. Suppose that I shouldn't be surprised. I was always just a substitute for your real friend."

"No, Brett. That's not...".

I moved closer to offer some support to him. Brett drew back and then punched me square in the face. I reeled away from him and slammed my back against the door. There was a moment of utter shock that he'd done it. How could he after what we had been through? But then another part of me reacted to someone punching me, and I attacked him. Our brief fight was later just a blur of thrashing about, pushing, grunting, and maybe a few more punches thrown in. Fights in real life were not as cool as they were in the movies. The result was much like it always was for us: the noise drew attention and the authorities on site arrived to break it up.

After the guards plopped us on the floor, I realized how dumb it had all been. It was also embarrassing to be subdued by a bunch of guys wearing matching blue polo shirts and khakis. At least the guards in the Juvenile Detention Center tried to look intimidating. These guys could've been working at Best Buy.

"Such a shame," said one of the guards holding me down. "All you had to do was play nice, but little thugs can't change what they are. Oh well, inside every one of you punks is a cute submissive girl waiting to come out." His hot breath was in my ear. He said, "I can't wait to see what kind of cutie you make."

They left me alone in a small room with only a table and a chair that they placed me in. My hands were bound up in a zip-tie. Even though Brett and I had cooperated with the guards they felt the need to give us the full treatment. I sat there waiting for what I assumed would be the inevitable punishment. The last few years of my life had been all about it. Not that I was an innocent victim. I earned everything that was coming to me.

It felt like an hour before the door opened and the director came inside. His polo shirt and khakis were superior to the others and he knew it. He walked like his cock was made of solid gold and you needed to know. The director sat down and stared down at me. He still looked like some guy running for congress.

"Do you go by 'Robert' or 'Bobby'?"

"Bobby," I said. "I've never liked 'Robert'."

He smiled. "That's convenient. I looked over your file. What you and your friends did three years ago was textbook toxic masculinity. You've already had some of our lessons. It's still early, but you should've gotten the gist of it. Your file didn't mention you being slow or anything. Are you?"

I caught myself before I could get in even more trouble. He wanted me to get mad and tell him to go choke on a dick. Then he would have even more satisfaction once he punished me.

"No. I'm not. I get what you're doing. The money and the interest must be good."

"They are," he said. "Modern society needs to be cleaned up. Programs like this and drugs like X-change are the answer."

"Have you ever taken it?"

He got closer and leaned down so he could speak more intimately to me. "Yes," he said. "Every month or so I arrange a personal weekend and I become 'Evie'. She's a liberating free spirit that helps me cope with some rather irritating aspects of my job. I hope that you'll understand one day."

The director put his hand on my shoulder.

"I want to give you a little tour. Are you going to cooperate?"

I nodded.

"Good. Let's go."

We walked across the main complex to a locked door that I hadn't paid much attention to. I kept my hands low—pretending that people wouldn't notice they were cuffed. Fortunately, not many people were out. Through the door we entered an area that was much more reminiscent of a prison. Many of the rooms and sections were isolated behind plexiglass. I saw detainees in cells. They noticed our entry into the area and their desperate eyes followed us everywhere.

"What is this?" I asked.

"This is what happens when things escalate. In the program we have the fondest of hopes that you young men will turn your lives around. We use the pills as a therapy like what your friend Brett is doing. He's doing very well by the way despite this little incident. Brett likes being 'Britney', and 'Britney' has some very special thoughts about you. I was hoping that would help the both of you rehabilitate. Maybe it still can."

"But..." he paused. "Even we have to admit when we can't help you boys by normal means. When that happens, we come to a crossroads."

We entered a hexagonal cell in the center of the main chamber. Inside was a steel table attached to a boom that could be raised and lowered. It was propped up to house a person in restraints. The young man secured to the table was the bully Travis who'd accosted me before.

"You've met Travis," said the director. "He remembers you. Blames you for his being in this situation."

"Fuck you," said Travis. "I'll kill all of you."

"Travis here could be a poster child for toxic masculinity. He believes that being this way is somehow what a man is supposed to be."

"It's called 'being a man'," said Travis, though he was clearly becoming more afraid after being in the restraints for what must have been a long time.

The director said, "Not anymore. As men we need to be better. If we can't then maybe some of us need to not be men."

Travis struggled. He screamed. He threatened everyone including me for not helping him.

The director continued, "Travis had been ordered to begin X-change therapy. He refused and made all kinds of promises and protestations despite the warnings that we gave him. His fate was probably decided then and there, but then your confrontation happened. One of the other students here heard Travis saying things, and we searched his room to be safe. We found a lethal weapon. Clearly, he was going to hurt or even kill someone. We considered just remanding him to the custody of the state as he already has numerous convictions, but his family begged for another chance."

The director motioned to the guards. They cut apart Travis' clothes and tore the remains away—leaving him naked beneath the restraining straps. A medical technician stepped forward to inject Travis in the arm. Travis trashed around, but after a few moments he slowed down and couldn't resist.

The director said, "The sedative is just to make sure that you won't hurt yourself. After all: we're here to help you."

He walked over to a table with a plastic storage case that looked like a large tacklebox, and returned with a pill pack like the one that Brett had, but this one had a pink plus sign on it. He punched the pill out and walked over to Travis.

"Time to evolve, Travis." He put the pill in the bully's mouth. The tech brought over a small cup of water. Travis could barely resist and eventually swallowed the little pink pill.

"Good bye, Travis," said the director.

Everyone in the room nervously watched. Travis shook under the restraints. Then I saw the same transformation that I'd witnessed on Brett. His bones shifted and his frame altered. Body hair fell away. He became more and more feminine until he was a she. Large breasts blossomed up from her chest before us. Despite the horror of the situation, I felt my cock grow within my sweatpants. Travis' cock and balls retreated into her body and left new female parts in their wake.

It was over faster that anyone could believe. The new Travis, now fully transformed into a young woman, was left weeping and confused in front of us. All around the guards and technicians clapped and cheered at what had been done.

Travis just kept saying 'no'.

The director walked over to where I stood frozen in place. "Well, what do you think?"

"Travis," I said. "He's..."

"There is no 'Travis' anymore. This is a young woman in front of us. Her family has decided to call her 'Trisha'. That's cute."

"Now you'll let her go?"

"Not yet. Travis was unwilling. The pill does help the body affect the mind eventually, but sometimes we like to guarantee things to be sure. Trisha will go through several hypno-conditioning sessions in the coming days. She won't remember a 'Travis' at all, and will live the rest of her life believing that she was always female. Her parents want a demure daughter that will marry a man, that they have already picked out, and give them grandchildren. This case of toxic masculinity is permanently solved."

Just like that, I thought. An entire life destroyed and a new one created. This was the very heart of the program. They were doing their best to encourage us to make the choices, but were they really our own choices?

The guards gently removed the newly made Trisha from the table and led her away. I wanted to know if she would still recognize me. If Travis was in there somewhere. It's possible that he was, but she looked so traumatized now. According to the director her mind would be remade as well. Our society had finally been given the opportunity to do something new and useful with its undesirables.

"Follow me, Bobby," said the director as he walked away. The show was over.

The director took me to an office down the hall. A cozy little room compared to where we'd just been. Its walls adorned with pictures of beautiful young women in graduation robes and then others of the same girls in more sexy attire and provocative poses. Some of the previous students the director had saved. I sat down in a padded chair before he even told me to do so. I needed time to cope with what I'd seen.

"Would you like some coffee?" asked the director. "It's been a long day." He pressed a button on his desk, and a moment later a cute blonde secretary brought us two steaming metal cups of coffee. He looked at me wondering why I wasn't drinking. I held up my bound hands.

"Oh...I'm sorry."

He searched his desk for a small pair of wire cutters and freed my hands. I picked up my cup of coffee gratefully. I eagerly sipped at the hot comfort laced with caffeine.

"Good stuff, huh?" he said. "That's one of the rarest coffees in the country. Sometimes you need to enjoy yourself."

It took a while for me to work up the courage to do so, but I was going to ask. "Am I next?"

"What?"

"Am I next? Like Travis?"

"I don't want you to end up like Travis. Your mom has some real hope for you."

"You've talked to her?"

"Yes. Actually, I kind of want to start over. Maybe that will make this whole thing easier. To most here I'm just the Director. That's fine out in the halls, but while we're alone I wouldn't mind if you called me by my name. It's 'Dan' by the way. Nice to meet you, Bobby."

"Sure."

"Good. Now, in the interest of full disclosure: I knew your mom before you came here. No, don't worry—I'm not her old boyfriend from high school. I'm not from California originally. That's why I met her. You see, even with my amazing job the homes down here in San Diego are so expensive, but she really helped me out. She contacted me awhile back to see if I could help you. It took some time, but now you're finally here."

"And you'll change me."

"I want you to change yourself, but violence cannot be tolerated. If I pass judgement on Travis, but spare you...so you'll volunteer to do something different." Dan pulled a blister pack from his pocket and punched out a pink X-change pill. He dropped it into my steaming coffee. He said, "It's only a Basic pill. Actually, this is considered to be a new mild variant. It changes you a little slower, but it's designed for repeated use without building up so much in your system."

"What's that mean?"

"You can take it with fewer side-effects. Some recreational users get a little too ambitious sometimes and they have trouble changing back because the drug has permeated their whole system. With this one, everyday you'll come to my office and talk to me about your day and how you feel. You'll enjoy some of this wonderful coffee and a pill dissolved in it. One week, Bobby. After the time you did at the JDC this should be a walk in the park for you. It's a generous offer considering that we could process you like Travis."