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Lexi’s memory has returned and now her father is slated to get out of prison on a technicality. Lexi is also struggling to keep Alex in check. What will happen when her father returns and how will she deal with Alex?

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Broken, Too!

Copyright© 2020 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(All images and artwork are property of and copyrighted by Shauna J. Rousseau.)

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Author’s Note and Caution: This is more the story of the father and is only being provided by popular demand. It won’t be to everyone’s taste since the father is forced into a sex change against his will. It is not forced femme in the typical sense—but it is forced. At any rate, here it is for those that want to read his story.

 

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Rupert
I look over at Baumler. He is sitting meekly in his corner, like a good little warden. I puff on my cigar and look over the books. I look back at Baumler and say, “OK, Greg, it looks like you have it all tidied up. Good job. You just saved your son from major pain for another month.” I love running this joint and just need Baumler to give it legitimacy and he is good at cooking the books and other records to keep the Feds off our case. It was a stroke of genius for the Organization to take over a private prison. There is oversight, sure, but it is so much easier to blackmail the players and control things. Buying up Baumler’s son’s debt from the Triad was not cheap, but it was worth it—first, we are patriots. Sure, we are crooks, but we do not want the Chinese controlling any more than they already have. Second, it gave us leverage over Baumler, so me taking over the joint when I got sent here was a piece of cake.

Next, I ask him, “So, about our newest transformation. Where are we on that? Jenny reports all is on track?” He nods and says, “Yes, Jeremy…Josie’s surgery is on track.” I look at the plans and grump that he…’she’…it will get out so soon. Maybe, there is another option—it will cost a little more up front but will guarantee us longer term payback. I say, “Change of plan. Let Jenny know I want him…’her’…it to have the full platinum package, not just the plumbing change and boob job. We can then employ it on the outside. We can also charge more from the inmates before it’s released.”

He blanches a little but nods. He knows better than to argue.

I think this through some more. This could work out as a winning long-term plan! We do the ‘fixing’ on the inside at no cost to us, since we are using our own surgeons—they get to practice their techniques and do their experimenting. We make the ‘fixees’ pay back their debt for the ‘fixing’—no matter that most do not ask for it, like those idiot rapists. Some actually do, though—they actually want to be mutilated. No matter the price. ‘Josie’ didn’t ask but was just so slight of build and perfect for a general prison bitch. Plus, I do not like child beaters—and Jeremy put his son in a coma. No, he deserved what he got. ‘Josie’ will serve us well. Anyway, the ‘fixees’ are employed by us and pay back their substantial debt. With this plan, we can employ them on the outside and we get that much more. The bonus is that our surgeons can take their improved techniques and charge the perverts on the outside that will actually pay to have their bodies mutilated. It is a total win-win!

Jenny
I listen to Greg outline what Rupe wants and shake my head in wonder. I ask, “So, he wants her to not only have the SRS and boob job, as well as the whole identity package, but now also full-body feminization surgery, lipo-structuring, and full asset training?” He nods and adds, “Plus, employment insurance—but he doesn’t want…her…doped up. ‘She’ is supposed to be a high-class asset and be able to actually perform.” I nod and say, “We can do the vaping trick on her. This is an unusual expense on an inmate—especially one that is soon to be released.” Then it hits me. I exclaim, “He’s going to keep her on after she gets out, isn’t he? That’s genius!” He nods and shakes his head at my enthusiasm. I add, “I better get on this. She’s scheduled for surgery in the morning and this is quite the add-on. It’s a good thing that we have our own surgical team on this.”

I still wonder at the system they have set up. I call the scheduler and make the changes to the order.

Jeremy
I wake up and see the note from Nurse Jones to report to her office ASAP. My cell door is open and I walk to the medical section like a dead man walking. I guess, in a sense, I am a dead man—given what is supposed to happen to me today.

I enter the medical station and see Nurse Jones talking on the phone. She looks up and says, “Oh, here she is. Thanks, Hon.” She hangs up and says, “I thought you had tried to run, or something. I knew you weren’t that stupid, though. Rupe has made some changes to your orders, so come over here and let me get your catheter in.” She sticks my arm with a long needle and pushes a small tube into my vein. She tapes it down and plugs an I.V. line into it. The line is hooked up to a bag with a clear liquid and she starts the liquid dripping into the line—and into my vein.

She explains, “So, like I said, Rupe has ordered some changes to your orders.” I start to feel really relaxed as she continues, “In addition to your SRS and double-D boob job, you’re going to have full feminization surgery. Did you know that you have Asian and American Indian blood? We did the genetics on you. It’s partly why your stature is so small ,and you didn’t have a lot of hair before we cleaned you up. Anyway, the feminization surgery will give you a pretty face with a shaved brow line, higher rounded cheeks, and a cute little button nose. Your lips will be lusciously full and your Adam’s Apple removed. They will remove your bottom ribs to help emphasize your waist—and graft them to your pelvis to give you wider hips. Finally, they will take fat cells from areas where they don’t belong on a pretty woman and add them to areas where they do.”

I am somehow relaxed and cannot get up the energy to react. I want to kill her, to run, but I am just so relaxed. Some men in uniforms come in with a gurney and load me onto it. Then, the lights in the ceiling flash by in a strange pattern as they wheel me down the hall and outside to a waiting ambulance. Everything finally goes black as they load me into it.

---

Jenny
I monitor our newest T-Girl. They just dropped her off and she will still be very sleepy for a while given the pain meds she is on. Then we will keep her knocked out for a few days after the safe time on opioids—we do not want her hooked on those. Overall, she will basically be out for at least a week. Our docs will make rounds a couple of times a day here—with our full medical facility, she can actually recover here and not have to stay in our private hospital with paying patients.

I go over and put the mask over her face and turn on the valve to let the vapor in. She will be hopelessly hooked after a couple of days of the treatment. When we finally allow her to fully wake up, she will quickly be faced with her nicotine addiction for the first time. Of course, she will not know it is a ‘simple’ nicotine addiction. We will convince her it is a new untraceable Chinese designer drug that she can only get from us. We have this down pat for the girls that are not already—and never were—hooked on nicotine and that we want to remain clear-headed for their new work.

I turn out the light and listen to her rhythmic and deep breathing for a minute before I close the door.

Josie
I kind of feel like I am floating. I feel the excruciating pain in about every inch of my body, but I somehow just cannot care.

My mind wanders. I think back to a time when Maddie and I were happy—Alex had just been born. I was a very devout Christian and so happy to have a healthy son and wife.

Things fast-forward in my mind to the first time that Alex makes noises about being a girl and Maddie insists we go see April. When she ‘confirms’ that Alex is ‘transgendered’, I do some research of my own. I run across Freddie’s website and he promises good Christian answers to my questions and solutions to my problems. I meet with him and his followers and soon become, for lack of a better word, radicalized against ‘perverts’.

I suddenly feel all tingly as I continue to float and it feels funny—but good.

Maddie winds up divorcing me and Alex winds up hating me. Freddie’s promises to provide solutions do not pan out. Being ‘forceful’ with Maddie and taking Alex to see him for a few ‘sessions’ only serve to feed into her being granted the divorce.

Then they disappear. I have no idea where they are. But Freddie’s Church has followers everywhere and they let him know where they are. I go to just talk to them and wait outside the garage behind the bushes. When they drive in, I rush in before Maddie can close the door. And I go berserk—I have no idea what sets me off. Freddie really messed with my head.

I do not calm down until the policewoman has cuffs on me. Freddie meets me at the precinct with Greg. Greg admonishes me not to say anything that he does not first approve. I feel like crap when I find out that Alex is in a coma because of me, but Freddie continues to poison my mind and Greg steers me down the path that puts me in prison and becoming a prison bitch.

My mind continues to wander as my first year as a bitch unfolds. Finally, I wind up with Nurse Jones placing the catheter in my vein and me slowly blacking out…

---

Lexi
I fight the urge to use a double dose of the gel and only apply the pea-sized amount as I have all week. Of course, there is no development yet—except maybe the slightest tingly-itch in my nipples, but I cannot really say that it is not just my imagination.

I sigh and get ready for the day. Then I smile—it is going to be a good one! My body is certainly saturated with female hormones by now.

Josie
The pain firmly sets in before my eyes will open. I moan and I hear Nurse Jones saying, “Josie! Time to wake up, Hon! You’ve been asleep long enough! Wake up!”

I groan again and try to get my eyes to open. I finally get them to open and the light blinds me for a second. I grimace and Nurse Jones slowly comes into focus. She smiles at me and says, “Welcome back to the living, Hon! You’ve been out for a week, so the worst part of your pain is over. I know you’re still sore, though. You’re OK to talk now, although you will sound different. They went ahead and worked on your vocal chords when they shaved your trachea. They’re pretty confident that they didn’t damage anything, but there’s always the chance that you’ll sound like Minnie Mouse. Either way, you’ll be hoarse for a little while.”

I croak, “I…I…I…” I close my mouth. I can’t believe how high my voice sounds. I finish and whisper, “I’m thirsty.” She nods and says, “I’m going to raise the head of your bed a little. It may hurt in your waist, but your corset will protect you. She pushes the button and I feel my upper body raising. She is right, it is uncomfortable in my waist, but more so with the weight of my boobs pulling down. They must be huge!

She hands me a cup of ice chips and says, “Here. Suck on some of these until we’re sure you’re completely awake.” I put the cup to my lips and grimace at how swollen they feel. I let a chip slip between them and into my mouth. I let it melt and take another. Suddenly, I start to feel…jittery. After the third ice chip, my mouth feels less like cotton and I try talking again, “Something’s wrong. I feel really jittery.” I grimace at the way my voice sounds to me.

She smiles and says, “Well, Hon. That’s normal. While you were out, we got you addicted on a special designer drug that we get from China. It’s untraceable and tests just like nicotine if analyzed. Beware, though that it’s not nicotine—you will only be able to get your fix from this drug. And you’ll only be able to get the drug from us. I’ll prove my point—I’m sure you still won’t take my word for it; for now. But we will follow up again later.” She hands me an unopened package of e-cig nicotine cartridges and has me inspect them to ensure they are untampered with. I am still groggy, but the seal looks intact. Then she inserts one into a regular e-cig device and hands it to me. She says, “Go on. One hit won’t get you addicted to nicotine. The sooner we get through this, the sooner I can help your jitters. Go ahead! Inhale!”

I shrink back—I abhor smoking and vaping—but I finally do as she says since the jitters are getting worse. I meekly inhale the mist from the device and blow it back out. I feel no effect on my jitters at all. She loads a different device with a cartridge that she pulls out of a locked drawer and hands it to me. The implication is clear—inhale!

I draw in mist from the device and feel wonderfully tingly—and my jitters settle a slight bit. Nurse Jones just nods, and I draw in another, much deeper breath and hold it in. I slowly let it out and repeat. After the fifth time, I start feeling better. I look at her and implore, “Why?” She just grins and says, “You work for Rupe now. When you get out, you will continue to work for the Organization. This just ensures that you’re a good girl and don’t unexpectedly quit—and that you have the proper motivation to perform at your best.”

I groan and inhale again. She continues, “Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed the extra weight on your chest. You do now have lovely full double-D breasts. The removal of your lowest ribs was successful, and you will be wearing a corset for a while to get your waist fully shaped and down to at least a svelte twenty-two inches. The bone grafts on your pelvis went without a hitch and added a good two inches to your hips—and everything is nicely wrapped in the proper fat proportions for a woman to give you a nice soft, cuddly hourglass figure. Finally, once everything heals on your face, you’ll be largely unrecognizable from your former self—you’ll be quite beautiful as a woman. Once you are fully trained, you will be quite the asset to the organization!”

---

Jenny
I look through the window in the door and see Josie greedily sucking on the e-cig device. I ‘inadvertently’ left the ‘regular’ nicotine cartridges in the room a couple of days ago and, of course, she tried them—to no avail. Unless the special cartridge that we supply is used, the unique device automatically filters out most of the nicotine in the cartridge and it has no effect.

It has been a week since we woke her up—and she is now two weeks post-op. Her swelling and bruising has gone down substantially, and she looks very much a woman, now. I am about to pull her urinary catheter, based on doctor’s orders—then she will have to relearn how to pee. And, she is going to learn the joys of dilation—after I do a sensation test.

I go into her room just as she puts down her e-cig and say, “OK, Josie! You’re in for some fun! We’re going to pull your catheter and get you out of that bed for a lesson on going to the potty as a woman. Then, we are going to start prepping your new work tool for proper use.” I giggle. She gives me a confused look, but she will find out soon enough.

I put up the stirrups and place her legs in them. I deflate the little balloon and carefully pull out the catheter. The doctor had checked her earlier this morning and pronounced her healed and ready. I had closed the valve earlier and given her some strong coffee and made her drink a large glass of water, so I know she has to go by now. I help get her legs out of the stirrups and say, “OK. Let me help you up and we’ll go let you pee.” She hisses as I help her stand. I am sure her ribs are still tender—even with the protection of the corset.

She moans in her now very girly voice, “Ow, ow, ow!” I help her slowly walk on legs that have not been used for two weeks and get her situated on the toilet. It does not take her long to figure out how to relax her muscles and let the urine stream out of her new opening. When she is done, I stress the importance of wiping from front to back to prevent urinary tract infections.

Lexi
I get out of the shower and dry myself off. I grimace as I rub my nipples and now know why girls pat themselves dry. I am certainly getting to be very tender there. I am not really noticing much else, just yet. Maybe the slightest hint of some fuzz under my arms…

I put on a matching bra and panty set and smile as I look in the mirror. Soon enough, there will be an actual need for the bra. I just have to figure out how I am going to hide that—and then explain it.

Josie
I sit on the toilet and catch my breath. Walking was really painful. I have to go—bad. But I cannot figure out how to just relax the correct muscles. After I nearly panic that I am going to burst, it just starts flowing. I look down, but cannot really see much past my huge boobs, besides my knees and feet. When the rush of pee stops, Nurse Jones shows me the ‘correct’ way to wipe. She scares the Hell out of me when she says, “Listen, Hon! You don’t want a UTI! You have a shorter urethra now, like all women, and you are prone to them since the bad bugs can get up there much more easily. If you wipe from back to front like you’re used to, you will just wipe your poop into the hole. Poop equals bad bugs. Understand?” I just nod and contort myself to wipe the correct way.

When I am done, I sit there a second and look up. She moves out of the way and I can see myself in the mirror. I flinch—I look nothing like myself! I still have some leftover yellowish bruises, but the swelling has gone down, and the really bad bruising is gone. My face is…pretty…

I start crying. I cannot help it.

Nurse Jones says, “It’s OK, Hon. You’ll get used to it. For better or worse, you’re one of us now. Of course, you will employ your new assets much differently than I do, but you’ll get used to that, too. If you allow yourself, you might even learn to enjoy it. As long as you put forth the correct effort and attitude, you will be a high-class call girl. I suggest you don’t find out how the Organization treats those that fall from grace. Your first months here would look like paradise.”

She helps me back to my bed with my head swimming at her implications. I slowly climb in and she puts my legs back into the holder things—spread wide apart. She surprises me when she straps them down so that I cannot move them. I look at her over my boobs and between my legs and wonder what she is going to do to me now. I hear a buzzing sound and she barely touches my new ‘lips’ down there with a vibrator. I nearly jump out of my skin—it tickles! She continues moving it while gently touching. The tickling turns into something else and I find myself rising to press harder on the vibrator. Soon, she enters me and I moan. I lose track of time, but I do not think it is much more than a few minutes before I start to loudly scream as I experience my first orgasm as a ‘woman’. She does not let up, though. I experience two more in rapid succession, then she finally turns off the vibrator. My throat is raw from screaming, my heart is pounding, and I am completely out of breath.

She smiles at me and says, “See? Being a woman has its advantages. Do you think that you could have ever done that as a man? I could have kept on, you know. Anyway, I suggest you vape a cartridge. I hear from those that are addicted that post-orgasmic bliss from the drug is off the charts.”

I sigh—partly in contentment and partly in frustration—and pick up the e-cig and a new cartridge. With shaky fingers, I load the device and pull in a deep lungful of vapor. It is pure heaven—the mix of the afterglow from the orgasm and the tingling I get from the device just sort of…harmonizes. I know I am even more hooked—on both accounts.

I take in another lungful of mist and nearly blow my head off as I scream in pain. She just pushed something deep into me and it hurts like Hell!

She just says, “Sorry, Hon. But we have to get you dilated so that you can fully take a man into you. I’m told it’s painful in the beginning…”

---

Lexi
I scrutinize myself closely in the mirror to make sure I did not miss any hair.

It has been three months since I started using the hormone gel and some of its effects are starting to become harder to disguise without more effort. I can actually feel little breast buds starting to swell under my nipples just like I have been dreaming about for so long. I have also started sweating more. For now, these are easy to cover up. I started wearing a bra even before my coma—not that I had any actual need to, but Momma and Mamacita indulged my ‘Lexi’ desire to be more feminine. So, continuing to wear one is not a red flag to anyone. When I indicated last week that I wanted to start using a girly deodorant ‘just for the feel and to smell like the other girls’, they likewise gave in to make me feel better for being in hormonal limbo. Little do they know!

I have also started showing more signs of pubic and underarm hair. It is still soft and very fine, so it is easily removed with wax strips. I will just have to stay on top of it. I am more worried about potential growth on my arms and legs, but Momma has never had to shave her legs because the hair on them is so fair and fine. Daddy was never really hairy either. My hope is that I will inherit the same traits. Not that I will not fail to remove any trace of hair, unlike Mom, even if it is barely noticeable. Just to be safe, not because I might or might not be vain.

My biggest concern is any growth spurt I may undergo. I know it is purely my imagination, but my shoes feel a little tighter. My hope is that any height gain will be minimal—or at least slow. Again, Momma is small-statured and is right now less than a foot taller than me. Daddy is also nowhere near a giant, so maybe I will luck out and not grow like a weed. Hopefully, I will not grow like JuJu—she is already over a foot taller than me. Of course, she is also two years into her puberty—and a C-cup…

I finger the little buds that are just starting to develop under my increasingly sensitive nipples and imagine what my breasts will be like. While Momma is small in stature, she is well-endowed, so chances are that I could have significant development that will be hard to explain, but I will cross that bridge when I get to it. I have done a lot of research and am confident that my daily dosage is safe—if anything, it is on the low side to just have a slow and steady progress.

April’s concerns about Alex are unfounded—I am here to stay as Lexi—so I still feel good about my decision to move forward without her consent or knowledge. I mean, yes, Alex continuously rattles his cage and complains about me ruining his body, but I am getting better at shutting him down. Every little hormonally induced change is another nail in his coffin.

After one final check on the body hair, I carefully clean up the evidence of my waxing session and get dressed. After I put on my makeup, I inspect myself from all angles in the mirror and do not see anything that gives away my developing puberty and smile. I run downstairs and dispose of the old wax strips in the garbage bin in the garage, being careful to bury it in a way that Momma will not find it.

I go back into the kitchen and start the coffee and get out the things for breakfast. Momma should be coming down any minute.

Maddie
I smell the coffee brewing and smile. Lexi is already at it!

I go into the kitchen and give her a hug from behind and say, “Good morning, Sweetheart! Did you sleep OK?” She flinches a little—I guess I must have startled her. Then she turns and gives me a kiss on the cheek and says, “Like a log. No bad dreams at all!”

I smile and nod. Things have been going well. Even starting back to school as Lexi. I pour each of us a cup of the strong coffee and grin, “Just right! How are things going at school? Is Jessie leaving you alone?”

She opens up her cup of yogurt and eats a spoonful before answering, “Yeah. Everyone has been great with the transition. To be honest, I don’t think most people ever saw Alex as a guy, anyway. We know that Jessie sure didn’t! She kind of shook her head when I ran into her the other day and she figured out it was me, but she winked and seemed…nice… It’s weird, Momma. I don’t get mean girls!”

I smile and take another sip of the coffee to wake up. I muse, “Well, hopefully we can get you in with JuJu next year. It was just too late to navigate all of that this year. Going to an all-girl school will give you plenty of practice!” I giggle at her grimace.

She sighs and takes a sip of her coffee. She is now drinking it completely unadulterated—without milk or sugar—like it should be. She does not even shudder anymore when she does. She retorts, “Well, I am looking forward to the potential of stimulating classes.”

I look at the clock, then pour my cereal and milk and take a quick bite. After swallowing, I ask, “So, you’re still planning on helping at the store over your break next week?”

She grins and says, “If you’re still planning on paying me—and letting me use your discount…”

I giggle, “Yes, I’ll pay you in clothes and shoes. We’ll work it out. JuJu is still planning on helping, too. It’s nice that you have your break at the same time. But I do expect to get some work out of you—no goofing around. Of course, I can’t actually employ you, since you’re too young, but I can officially bring you on as junior interns. I have always wanted a servant to answer my every beck and call—now I’ll have two!”

She rolls her eyes, just like any teenage girl and I feel a little guilty again that she cannot have her hormones. I know she wants her body to develop along with her attitude, but April is right in making her wait. Based on their conversations, it seems that Lexi is still waging an internal war with Alex. She does not think we know, but it has come out in their talks. April is worried about the fact that she is trying to hide it. She is also still worried about possible DID as a result of Jeremy and Bigotti meddling with her mind.

She quips, “Well, as long as I’m a well-paid servant, I’ll fetch your coffee, or whatever.” She cannot help but giggle. We finish our breakfast, and she puts the dishes in the dishwasher while I go finish getting ready for work.

Josie
I lay back relaxed. My legs are unstrapped in the stirrups and Dr. Westman is examining me. He has just easily inserted the largest dilation dildo and there is no pain. He surprises me when straps my legs in—they have not done so in weeks. Jenny—Nurse Jones—leaves the room and closes the door as Dr. Westman unties his scrub pants and pulls them down. Ten minutes later, I lay there with tears of shame in my eyes as he leaves the room and Jenny comes in to teach me how to clean myself up after intercourse.

I have been in the cell block with the other T-Girls since about two weeks after they woke me up. They have taught me how to do my makeup—even though I have permanent makeup, I am supposed to know how to expertly change my look. Ginger, a voluntary T-Girl is an expert at it and has been drilling it into me. For some reason, we have access to all of the makeup we need in the T-Girl block.

Veronica, the only other current voluntary T-Girl took charge of ‘girlying’ me up. I have numerous piercings now—multiple in each ear, in my nose, and my navel. We also seem to have access to lots of what I would have used to call sexy clothing. Now, I just call it provocative. Ginger and Veronica have been making me get dolled up and learn how to walk in heels—no lower than four inches.

My lot seems to have been cast with those two and I am in really nice quarters—for a prison. The other forced T-Girls are in better cells than we used to have over in the general population, but they are still a couple of cuts below ours.

Anyway, after I am cleaned up, Jenny says, “I’m sorry, Hon. That was your final test. You’re now cleared for duty and will be put on the roster with Ginge and Ronnie. I know they have taught you how to satisfy yourself and you do it regularly, but here… I’ll give you a few minutes alone—it sucks to not get your satisfaction. You are going to have to figure out how to make that happen, though. Men are not in it for your pleasure under normal circumstances. They sure aren’t going to worry about you under these!” She hands me a large, anatomically correct vibrator and leaves me alone.

Ten minutes later, I am gasping for breath through my raw throat. She comes back in and hands me the usual popsicle. It has the same basic anatomical shape as that vibrator and I expertly stick it all the way down my throat to sooth it. The first time she had handed me one these and explained what I was supposed to do with it, I choked twice—once in humiliation before using it and once when I actually tried to do as she ‘suggested’. Oh, I tried to resist over the next week, but it did not take long for my need to feed my drug addiction outweighed my will to resist. Deep-throating the popsicles is now no issue—nor are the large dildos that Ginge and Ronnie make me do the same with.

Over the past couple of months, chasing orgasms has become really addictive. Jenny did let it slip that they had been tweaking my hormones to make me as horny as possible, so that explains some of it. I just cannot seem to get enough use out of that vibrator. Of course, Ginge and Ronnie have been showing me other ways to get them besides the vibrators—including all of our fingers and tongues. Nothing larger has been allowed in me up to now—except my daily dilations with Jenny. And she would give me extra time with the vibrator if I used my tongue on her first.

I finish my popsicle and Jenny actually gives me a hug. She steps back and says, “You’re a woman now, Hon—albeit a soon-to-be high-priced call girl. Be prepared to be treated like one. Your training will now go to the next level. When you leave here in a few months, you will either live a somewhat shackled life of luxury—at a price; or you will live the life of a two-bit whore. It’s up to you now. You’ve taken off in the right direction—I hope you continue down the right path. Our daily sessions are now over. I’ll just see you for your routine checkups—or if you have other needs. Being in with Ginge and Ronnie’s clientele will give you certain protections—but you will still be dealing with men and they can get rough.”

With that, she sends me back to the ‘Cathouse’ as our section of the T-Girl block is called. I see that I have my first appointment in thirty minutes and am booked through the evening in thirty-minute intervals. I sit down heavily and cry as Ronnie comes in and checks to make sure my burlesque corset is tightened and my fishnet stockings hooked to the built-in garters are straight after my ‘examination’. Of course, I don’t have any panties on.

She hands me some six-inch stilettos and says, “It drives ‘em crazy. Knock ‘em dead, Hon! Just remember to focus on driving them nuts, but also do what you can to get what you need. Keep them on the edge as long as you can, and you may buy yourself enough time to get some personal pleasure!” She winks and is gone.

I look at the clock and grimace. Ten minutes…

---

Rupert
I read the report on Josie. I look up at Baumler, sitting in his corner again, and ask, “Is this right? Everything has been done to slow down its release? We have to free it today?” He nods and says, “Your sources are better than mine, but yeah. It looks like she’ll have to be released today. We kept her for over nine months more than she would have stayed without your…help. I don’t have anything else I can throw in the way. Her conviction has been vacated. It doesn’t look like they are even going to retry her—I’m not sure how much influence your…employer…had on that. It could have been all that so-called Church’s doing, too…”

I nod. I’ve already let the outside know it’ll be coming. I grump, “Well, it turned out to be a good asset in here—especially after the ‘special’ Ts got set up for outside visitors. It’s amazing how many people are ‘friends and family’ of those three. Now, it’ll just be for the two. Ginger and Veronica are just going to have to be good ‘girls’ and carry a heavier load.” I shake my head. I mean, these ‘visitors’ know what these ‘girls’ are--its. Yet, they flock here and pay good money. I do hear that the three of them are very good at what they do, though. After a short indoctrination, post-op, Josie has certainly carried ‘her’ load. Of course, Jenny told me what she threatened it with as an alternative. It’s a good thing that it does not realize that the Organization does not deal in ‘two-bit whores’—they are too high-maintenance.

Josie
I look at Jenny and almost start crying. Yes, she was instrumental in my forced…transformation. But over the past several months, we have become something akin to…friends. At the very least, she has been a constant in my bizarre new life. I guess it is some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. After Ginge, Ronni, and I started receiving outside ‘visitors’, our inside appointments were infrequent. Because of that, we were subject to more frequent visits with Jenny because there was an increased risk of…infections…

There was one interesting side-effect of one of my ‘regulars’ who had a…quirk… He wanted me to smoke a large cigar during his ‘visit’, so that I would be the ‘engine’ of the ‘train’ and he was ‘coupled on’ behind me. Anyway, he was a daily ‘visitor’ and I came to realize that my ‘drug’ addiction really is just to nicotine since I had no cravings during and after those sessions.

Jenny says, “Well, this is it, Josie. Your last checkup—and everything looks fine. When you get outside, there will be a car waiting for you. It will take you to your new home. Madame Gillette will be in charge of your schedule. I know that you will do fine—if you keep up the same level of effort that you kept up in here!”

I sigh and retort, “I’m not a woman, though, Jenny. I have to act like one—and you’ve made me into a perverted and very horny parody of one. But I’m not one. I’m a man—that’s how I was born and how God intended me. I just pray I don’t go to Hell because of what you’ve done to me.”

Jenny gets red-faced and says, “That’s just Bigotti talking, right there. He certainly did poison your mind! Whether you accept yourself as the beautiful woman that you are, or not. It doesn’t matter whether you asked to be one, or not—no woman born as one gets that choice, either! No matter—you won’t go to Hell because of it. And neither will your daughter! The sooner you accept that, the sooner you may have a chance to reconcile with her. You’ve been given another chance, there—I suggest you take it. Of course, you will still need to meet your obligations with the Organization…”

I do not say what I think about that. They have no real hold over me, anymore. I certainly do not owe them anything—except maybe some sort of revenge.

I shake my head and say, “We will just have to agree to disagree, I guess. I will do what I have to—to survive.” She smiles and says, “Good luck! You’re about to be a free woman—well, free from prison, anyway.”

I give her a hug and go to processing where I am officially released and allowed to exit the grounds. I see the black limousine waiting for me and climb into the backseat. Without a word, the driver takes off—to where, I have no idea…

Lexi
I sigh in frustration. I am in a quandary. My hormonal regimen over the past nine months has done mostly exactly what I intended—a slow progression of my body developing as it should. Things started out great, and for the first six months all went well—there were just those little things that happened. Breast bumps, slightly enlarged nipples, and some peach fuzz in the right spots (hint, not on my face!). Hiding the small bumps and taking care of the fuzz was not a problem.

The problem is that things are starting to get more noticeable now and seem to be progressing at an increasing pace. I would be hard-pressed to let anyone see me without a bra anymore—my breasts have swollen to a full A-cup. My nipples are getting clearly bigger, and are no longer sore, but really sensitive. My areolae are getting larger and slightly darker. All of this is still easily concealable with a bra—now with smaller inserts—but would be embarrassingly evident otherwise. I knew this was coming, but I thought I would have more time.

On top of my breast development, I have grown about an inch and my feet are half a size bigger. I had planned on this—somewhat—when I picked out my clothes as my ‘payment’ for working for Momma over school break. I made sure that there was room to grow in my bras and picked out a couple of different sizes of gel inserts. I also got shoes that were half a size too big—they fit perfectly now, but I will be in trouble if my feet continue to grow. By wearing only dresses, skirts, or otherwise leggings and pants that were above the ankle anyway, I minimized any growth being readily apparent. It is mostly just a problem when in close contact, like hugs and such, where a direct comparison in height is possible. But the growth, so far has been slight and slow—hopefully, no one has caught on. Kind of like that proverbial frog and the boiling water…

Things have really picked up with Momma and Mamacita, too. We are over there a lot and vice versa. Hiding this from JuJu is hardest. So far, I have pulled it off—but it is a ticking time bomb. Then, there is the wedding. It is in just a few months—then we will be together all the time. The fact that no one at my school does not know that I am not supposed to be developing takes the pressure off there—but when I start at JuJu’s school next term, it will be a different story.

---

Freddie
I look at the disgusting abomination that was once Jeremy and say, “Well, it’s about time you got here. You’ve been out for a month!” He looks at me and whines in that overly feminine voice of his, “I had to get things set up and make my break. They only think they control me with their ‘drugs’—But I know it’s only nicotine.” I nearly drop my jaw when he takes an e-cig out of that faggish purse of his and starts puffing on it. Jeremy despises anything to do with smoking or vaping—but I guess this perverted thing really is not Jeremy anymore.

He blows out a cloud of vapor and says, “Look, Freddie. I didn’t ask for what they did to me. I can only pray that when the day comes, I won’t be judged for this sin, but I have to save my son!” I nod and respond, “God will judge you—no doubt. But he can be merciful. Saving your son will surely count for something! They have actually not moved from where they were last time since they did not know you were getting out. They have, of course been informed of your release—but they have no idea about your…’disguise’…and think you are still a thousand miles away.” I cannot keep the contempt out of my voice.

I sigh and say, “We have followers watching them. Your son goes to the mall frequently since his mother works there. He actually is there right now. We have a plan that we are ready to execute…” I explain it to him in detail as he continues to suck on that infernal device and blow clouds of vapor my way. When I am done, he asks, “OK. When are we going to go through with this?” I smile and reply, “There’s no time like the present!”

Lexi
I look around the mall, trying to decide where to go next. Of course, I do most of my shopping at Momma’s store since I get the discount, but some things are just better in other places. I decide to go check out VS. JuJu had to take care of some other things today and I just decided a day of shopping on my own sounded like fun.

I am on way to VS when I notice a woman in the side hallway that leads back to the bathrooms. She is alone and seems to be having some sort of medical trouble. I glance around and there is no one else in the vicinity and I know the guards’ station is at the other end of the mall where they would have anyone trained in first aid.

I hurry over to the woman—she looks vaguely familiar—and ask, “Ma’am? Are you alright? Can I help you? I can get someone from the offices.” She looks up and says, “No… I’ll be fine. Could you just help me into the ladies’ room? I think I just need some cold water on my face.” I help her into the ladies’ room and she takes a paper towel, wets it with cold water, and presses it to the back of her neck. She smiles and says, “I was just having a hot flash. I hate to ask this, but do you have a phone I could borrow? My battery died and I just need to call my ride to let them know I’m ready.”

I am busy looking around the bathroom. We are alone—no one to help me with her if she needs it. She pulls my attention back to her with her request and I nod. I dig in my purse and hand her my phone as I say, “Of course! Are you sure you don’t need me to go get some help?” She shakes her head as she takes my phone, then sort of collapses onto me and I catch her in surprise.

I feel a sudden sharp sting in my shoulder and everything goes black…

Josie
I grimace and pull the needle from Alex’s shoulder and dispose of the syringe in the medical sharps container on the wall. I certainly do not condone these containers for drug addicts but I have to admit it came in handy just now. I take his phone and throw it in the toilet after wiping my fingerprints from it—I had done the same to the syringe.

The door opens and Marge comes in with the wheelchair. It has a realistic blowup doll in it, covered in blankets. It has a black wig on, and the face is covered with an medical oxygen mask. Overall, you cannot tell it is a doll. She turns and locks the door. She quickly lets the air out of the doll, and we put Alex in the chair. With the black wig on his head, the oxygen mask over his face, and the blankets over his body, you cannot tell that it was not him that Marge brought in. She folds up the now empty doll and sticks it in the bag on the back of the chair.

I go out ahead of her and notice that the camera is disabled. It will not be long before someone comes to check on that. Marge comes out behind a minute later and we go our separate ways. No one will be the wiser as to what happened with him.

Marge meets me on the other side of the mall from where she had parked and loaded Alex into the van. She takes off and drives across town to the old warehouse where Freddie is waiting for us. I look back at Alex the whole time. He is out cold from the sedative. He looks very much like a girl—there is not much of my son visible. Much like there is not much of Jeremy visible in my anymore. The difference is that it is not too late for Alex.

I help Marge unload the wheelchair and then wheel Alex into the back of the warehouse where the little apartment is found. We unload him onto the cot, and I start to undress him to get him into proper clothes. I gasp when I find that he is actually growing breasts. Freddie notices and shakes his head with a grimace. He admonishes, “This is more serious than we thought! We will have to be most forceful, I’m afraid. Luckily, it looks like it should still be reversible—we may have to supplement some male steroids to jumpstart him back into the right direction.” He goes back out mumbling something about getting things ready.

I sigh and just finish getting him dressed in his boy’s clothes when he starts to come to. He groans and looks up at me in confusion, then asks, “What happened? Where am I?” I try to say in a reassuring tone, “Don’t worry. You’re safe, Alex!” He looks at me in even more confusion and says, “What…? How…? I am not Alex! My name is Lexi and how do you know what it used to be anyway? Who are you? You look vaguely familiar… O!M!G! Daddy? Is that really you?”

I close my eyes and fight back the tears. I nod my head and say, “Yes, I used to be your father. They did this to me in prison and my soul may be condemned to Hell because of it, but it is not too late for you, Alex. Reverend Bigotti is here and is going to help you back to the light!”

He shrinks back from me and gives me a repulsive look as he says with dripping venom in his voice, “I am not Alex and I don’t want to see that slimeball. Keep him away from me! Just let me go!”

At that moment, Freddie comes back in and Alex pales. He shrinks back even further into the corner that the bed is in. Freddie says, “Come along, Alex,” and grabs him by the arm. He pulls the struggling boy—screaming, kicking, scratching, and biting—into the living area of the little apartment and pushes him into a straight-back chair with arms. He ignores the cursing coming from Alex and deftly ties him into the chair—then he slaps him. Hard. I grimace.

Alex just sits there whimpering. Freddie says, “If you think you want to be a girl, then I’ll treat you like a girl. Girls that don’t listen get bitch-slapped. Now—we both know that you’re not a girl, though. You just need to be reminded of that. We need to let Alex back out.”

He hooks some electrodes up to Alex’s head and I hurry over to intervene before something bad happens. I plead, “What are you doing, Freddie? A slap is bad enough! This is ridiculous!” He looks at me and has a near insane look in his eye as he says, “Well, look who is getting all weak on me now. You really aren’t a man, anymore. I will save your son, though!”

Before I can stop him, he cranks up the dial on the machine and Alex goes stiff—then completely limp.

All I can think is that he has killed him as I faint, myself.

---

Lexi
I feel like I am back in my coma—I sort of feel like I am floating again. Alex taunts me—he is free from his cage. I cannot keep him contained. He jeers, “I told you Dad would get free and let me back out! I will win now—you’ll get put back in your cage where you belong. I’ll throw the key away and you’ll be completely forgotten!”

I feel the floating sensation start to recede. I am confused. Right now, Alex is free—but I am still in control. Barely.

I open my eyes and see Bigotti intently staring at me. Daddy is on the floor—it looks like he(?) is unconscious. Bigotti says, “Welcome back, Alex.” I sigh and spit out the blood I have in mouth—partially from my split lip when he slapped me; partially from where I bit my tongue when he hit me with that electric charge. He says, “Electroshock therapy went out of vogue a while back—but it is so useful! Don’t you agree?”

I spit some more blood and follow it with pure venom in my words, “You’re crazy! I am still not Alex. I will never be Alex!” He foams at the mouth as he spews, “We’ll see about that!” He is about to turn the dial again when Daddy hits him over the head with a piece of pipe. He drops to floor—maybe dead. I don’t know—and I don’t care.

Daddy looks back over at me and is about to say something when the door explodes open and the place is suddenly filled with police yelling for everyone to get down on the floor.

Maddie
I hold April’s hand as the paramedics come out with Lexi on the gurney. I rush over to her and scream, “Lexi! Are you OK, love? They wouldn’t let me in and I had to wait until they brought you out!” I do my best not to outwardly react to her split lip and black eye—or the boy’s clothing she is wearing. She smiles ruefully at me and whispers, “I was so scared, Momma. I thought for sure he was going to kill me?” I ask, “Your Dad?” She shakes her head and says, “Bigotti. Daddy…save d me. I don’t know if the police would have gotten there in time.”

I close my eyes, then bend down and squeeze her in a tight hug. I almost jerk back when I feel her breasts. She does not have a bra on under the boy’s shirt and there are clear breasts there. We will have much to talk about when the dust settles, it seems. I just squeeze her hand and climb into the ambulance after they load her—then quietly take her hand for the ride to the hospital.

---

Lexi
I come out of Dr. Schlesinger’s office and smile at Momma. It is the three-month ‘anniversary’ of my kidnapping and I am seeing a different psychiatrist. Mamacita insisted that I see someone unconnected to the family after it came out that I had been sneaking hormones—and the extent of which I had been fighting Alex.

After several weeks with Dr. Schlesinger, I was cleared to officially start hormones—supervised and the appropriate way. It seems Bigotti’s little shock therapy session did me a favor—not that I would recommend anyone go through with; or that I would ever endorse it! But it did force me to deal with Alex. With Dr. Schlesinger’s help, I am truly comfortable in my skin now. Alex is not locked away in a cage—he is happy to just be there for me in the back of my mind. But I am Lexi now and for evermore—and he is OK with that.

As for Bigotti. Daddy did not kill him—which is good. I do not know that I can ever fully forgive Daddy, but I am trying. Bigotti poisoned him—we all realize that more now. So, I don’t want him put away for murdering that bast… Um, well, scum. But today is when the verdict in both of their trials—for my kidnapping and associated other charges—should come out.

Neither Momma nor I want to be there. We have avoided the entire trial which was this whole week. Thankfully, I did not have to testify in person—just do this taped thing. Mamacita has been going—and keeping us informed enough.

April
I sit in the back of the courtroom and wait for the jury to come back from their deliberations. They have been gone for about an hour. I expect it may be a while more and wonder if I should go get some coffee when I am surprised that they are coming back in. They must have a verdict. That was quick!

After everything is all settled and everyone is back in the courtroom, the judge asks the jury, “Do you have a verdict for both defendants?” I am still surprised that they agreed to be tried together. The forewoman says, “Yes, your Honor. We do.” The judge nods and says, “Please let the court know your verdicts.” The forewoman says, “Your Honor, we the jury find both defendants guilty on all counts.” The judge slams down his gavel and says, “So noted. Thank you madame foreperson.”

He looks down at Bigotti and asks, “Do you have anything to say before I commence to your sentencing?” Bigotti just glares at him and silently shakes his head. The judge turns a little red-faced and says, “You are one of the most reprehensible people that have come through my court! Not only are you a bigoted charlatan of a fake pious sham, you have endangered countless children’s lives. Now, I can only sentence you for this one case since that is what you are being tried on, but I can certainly use my discretion to ensure that you do not endanger any more. You are receiving the maximum penalty that I can give you under the law for this—for all of your heinous actions taken together. You will go to a maximum security prison for fifty years with no chance of parole. So sentenced!” He bangs his gavel.

There is a murmuring in the court that he ignores and looks at Jeremy—or Josie, I guess? He asks, “And do you have anything to say for yourself?” Josie wipes tears from her eyes and says, “No, your Honor. I can’t atone for the mistakes I have made. I put my only child in danger. While it was genuinely with what I thought were good intentions, I now know that this man here was manipulating me. I will take whatever punishment you deem appropriate. I can only hope that my…daughter will see fit to some day forgive me.”

The judge looks thoughtful and nods. He says, “You are correct, Josephine. What you did was reprehensible. You not only put your daughter into a coma once, you decided to then kidnap her to put her in danger again. If not for the explicit plea of her to give you some leniency since you ultimately likely saved her and your obvious repentance, I would throw the book at you, too. That being said, you would not have had to save her if you had not put her in danger in the first place. If it had not been for another of your co-conspirator’s so-called followers giving up the whole plan on an unrelated charge to get a break of her own, there is no telling if or when the police would have shown up. I sentence you to twenty years in a maximum security prison. You will however be eligible for parole. So sentenced!” He bangs his gavel again and there is a louder conversation in the court as things are officially brought to an end.

I smile and walk to my car to go home and let my girls know the news.

Josie
I hang my head as I am sentenced. I know it is fair—very lenient, all things considered. I walk ahead of the officer in cuffs and he leads me into a side room where two men in black suits are waiting. I give them a curious look as they indicate that I should take a seat. The officer shuts the door as he leaves us alone in the room.

One of the men says, “Well, well, well, Josie. Quite the predicament you got yourself into. We can help, though. Now this is a one-time offer, and you will have exactly one minute to make up your mind when we have laid it all out. Don’t even try and guess who we work for—let’s just say we are patriots and our Agency uses a lot letters of the alphabet.”

I swallow and nod. This is certainly unexpected. I decide staying quiet is my best option at the moment.

The other man says, “So, here is our offer. We are going to send you back to your old prison. We know Baumler is compromised. We already have him working for us as a double-agent of sorts. We also know what Rupert and his assorted cronies in the Organization are up to—that you did not request your transition regardless of what the records say. Now, we don’t have proof of any of it. That is where you come in. We will also be sending your friend, Freddie, to the same prison. We have things already set in motion that will cause Rupert to classify him as a prison bitch—and then he will go through the same full package that you did.”

I look at them like they are crazy—they are fully condoning this illegal transformation and subsequent forced servitude. Not that I don’t love the idea of getting that revenge. The first one looks at me and says, “I can see your confusion. Like we said, we don’t give a shit about that bastard Bigotti—he deserves it and worse. We are so deep black in our ops that we suck in energy like a black hole. We don’t have to worry about the ramifications—and neither do you. All you have to do is gather the evidence for us. You will be provided with the appropriate tools to get what we need from the other girls in the Cathouse—where Francine will be joining you.”

I am digesting this when the second adds on, “You’re probably wondering why we don’t just use Baumler to get what we need. First, he’s compromised, so his testimony may not carry as much weight with a jury. Plus, we just want to have enough from the girls and bitches to strike a major blow to the Organization’s workings. We know it won’t shut them down—and likely won’t even shut down their involvement in that prison. It’s a huge game of Whack-a-Mole, but we keep hammering. Rupert will go back to being a ‘normal’ inmate—who knows, he may even become a prison bitch, himself—maybe she could be called ‘Ruby’.” He winks at me.

The first asks, “So. Are you in? Once we have what we need—which may take a few years—you will be free to go. Of course, you won’t be able to contact your daughter ever again. But you will get out of prison after just a couple of years—albeit, in your former…capacity.”

I know that is my lot, no matter what, so I simply nod. At least I can get back at good old Rupe!

---

Josie
I smile as I sit with the Marshals and sip my cappuccino. I watch Lexi confidently walk through the mall. It has been five years and she has become a wonderful and very beautiful young woman.

She laughs as she talks to her now sister. They are both getting ready to go off to college and seem well-adjusted. It seems Lexi is getting ready to start her third year since she graduated early—she always was very smart, and I cannot help but smile with pride.

I know I will not be able to ever see her again, but that is OK. She likely never will want to see me anyway. I finish my cappuccino and pat my lips with my napkin. I repair my lipstick in my mirror and nod to the Marshals. We get up and go out to the car.

I sit in the back as we drive off to someplace unknown to me. In contrast to the last time I was being driven to someplace unknown, I have no idea what I will be doing this time. All I know is that I will be in the Witness Protection Program and that I will no longer be a call-girl. Not that I don’t have real needs now that I will have to find a way to fulfill.

I smile as I look at my reflection in the heavily tinted windows. I wonder what Francie and Ruby are doing right now—not that it is hard to guess.

I giggle and settle back for a nap. I understand it will be a long ride.