9th of January, 2019All Amy could do in response was stare. A kiss? From one of her closest friends? How does one even respond to something like that? Cultural context would tell her that the proper response would be to return the favour and then, vibe allowing, escate. But it feels wrong to do so. It feels wrong that it happened.

  Sure, she understood why Faith might have kissed her. She did end up pulling the girl into her bed, and they were doing something somewhat akin to cuddling. It was intended to be more of a protective hug than romantic. But it’s kind of embrace in a pce commonly associated with sexuality. The string of logic is obvious when she thinks about it. It’s not like she had done anything to indicate it could be something other than this obvious way to read her behaviour.

  So Faith kissed her, assuming Amy wanted it. She did want it. She didn’t deserve it. She should have abstained for her friend’s sake. She wanted many things in life she didn’t deserve, or which she sacrificed so others could benefit.

  Amy got it regardless, though.

  It’s not as if it was a very good kiss. She pressed her lips against her like it was a peck on the cheek— soft, rather dry and in a hurry. But of course it wouldn’t be a very good kiss. Dar is, was, a kissless virgin! And so was Amy, even if she had gotten a little practice on the stage. Never of the proper, romantic kind — it tended to be those quick pecks as a way to establish a pre-existing retionship between two characters — but Amy knew enough to recognise Faith could have done better with a bit more experience.

  She wants to reciprocate so badly. But she really mustn’t. Because Faith couldn’t actually be into her, she’d be into someone who could actually rete to her. Someone who would understand the things she went through and still struggles with today. Someone less… privileged. Amy never really understood her. There was a certain distance in their interactions, something that held them back from truly opening up to each other.

  Sure, Dar looked up to her and sought her advice and comfort. They enjoyed each other’s company. They would talk for hours, usually about something that interested Dar. Her enthusiasm for some topics had always been such a joy to see, even if the broad categories could be repetitive at times. It was so different compared to the times when Amy took the lead in setting the topics, usually the news or something historical. All she did was make it impossible for her friend to actually talk about things she enjoy—

  “D-Did I— Are you—” Her friend stuttered, interrupting the silence that Amy had rather stupidly maintained. “I’m— I’m s-sorry— I—”

  “No.” Amy whispers and squeezes Faith’s hand. “I liked it.”

  The question is if Dar likes this. Or more accurately, likes her, because she certainly deserves better than to kiss the woman who got her stuck in this situation in the first pce. Amy couldn’t even get either of her friends out of this pce. It doesn’t make sense, it shouldn’t make sense. She’s going to be a sex sve because of her! For the rest of her life!

  There are a million other reasons why it can’t be real shooting through her head, and she’s got a headache, and she’s sleepy, and scared…

  “Do you— do you like me? Not ‘like that’, just in general.” Amy asks. It feels like a stupid question to ask. Because it definitely is.

  “Yes?” Faith seems unsettled. “We’ve been friends since 2009, I— Are you okay? You can just say if you didn’t—”

  “I’m okay.” She nods to add a bit of extra force to the statement. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Dar starts to pull back. “I really shouldn’t have…”

  “Not because of you.” She’s really fucked up now. “Just, everything. It’s been a hell of a month.”

  Faith pauses and looks at Amy, eyes filled with concern. “You haven’t seemed okay tely. Neither have any of us, but you’re… different. Not in a bad way, just… not really like RM anymore? He’d never be anxious like this.”

  “I’m managing. Don’t worry about me.” She repeats.

  “But you’re so tense…” When Dar whispers like this, she almost sounds like a girl. A girl with a lower pitch than usual for sure. But her voice training has been having an effect, and it’s fucking with Amy’s brain more than it should.

  It also reminds her why this is fundamentally wrong.

  “I— I’m just— It’s my first time too, okay? I’ve never kissed a boy before. And it’s weird. Kissing a boy as a boy. It’s… I’m not into that kind of thing. I’m into girls. And you’d be a pretty girl, and you kind of are a girl, deep down, and so am I, but in a stupid paraphilic way. But we’re not girl girls. We’re men. But you look like you’re not, sometimes. But that’s not how it works! It’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

  “I—” Faith tries to interrupt.

  “We’re both stupid autogynephiles trying to figure out love in an impossible fucked-up situation neither of us asked for, we’re scared, struggling and unable to do anything about our situation. It’s a charged atmosphere. Also sexy, maybe. I mean, we’re all into… this stuff. The dresses and the being dolled-up and such. And that’s fine, really, we didn’t choose this kink, and femininity is being forced on us so of course we would be sexually charged and of course we would tch on to the people nearest to us to get rid of that energy. I don’t know why you’d choose me over Ray. At least that’d be HSTS. Maybe. Would it be HSTS? Nevermind. You could do better than me.”

  “Is that— Uh.” Faith takes a moment to comprehend the flurry of words thrown at her. “I always liked you. Even before this.”

  “You said so, yes.” Amy nods.

  “I mean, like you like this. Cuddles and kisses like. You… You’re one of the only people who ever appreciated me, and— Ray is a good friend, it’s just that his friendship’s always felt conditional in a way ours never had. You— you never judged. No matter how stupid I was, no matter how close I got to giving up. You wouldn’t— you wouldn’t give up on me if I did give in to my fetish.”

  “Dar—”

  “And you? Do you want… this?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts.” Faith closes her eyes and rests her head against Amy. “Please just enjoy this.”

  10th of January, 2019That didn’t go as well as she had hoped.

  Hoped. Not pnned, as she didn’t have a pn. It’s very unusual for her to do something based on luck and rapid reaction times rather than foresight — though it has happened more often recently — and it shows in the results.

  She’s back in that stupid cell. The one she woke up in so long ago. Or at least, she thinks it’s the same one, based on the minor imperfections she recognises in the walls. There are actually three cells in this corridor, only to be used in exceptional cases.

  Amy turned herself into one of those today.

  The feeling built throughout the day. It was bad from the very second she lost contact with Faith. She was cleaning the main hallways, whilst Amy was assigned to one of the downstairs bedrooms.

  She’d hoped that the room would show some personality, something she could use to guess the intentions of the person she'd meet today— but there was nothing. It was more like a hotel room than anything. She didn’t even get as much as a name. Maybe she should have expected that, though. The building had definitely been left unused before it was converted into a sexy torture prison. It would expin the renovations in Eira’s office and the sheer build-up of dust in some of the rooms she had to clean.

  It does lead to the conclusion that the owner is visiting with a very specific purpose. The building had been left vacant for so long that they couldn’t have a reason to visit— until now. Until they arrived. Until there was something they could take for themselves.

  It weighed on her mind. Kelynen asked her if she’s okay a few times throughout the day. She hinted that Amy can just tell her when she’s feeling unwell. Trying to add some basic comfort and empathy to a horrific operation. But Amy wasn’t ill, not unless a terrible gut feeling counted as a stomach ache.

  As the day progressed, it felt like her heart was starting to beat inside her head again. The all-too-familiar migraine was making its way back into her life after being gone for two weeks. The minutes seemed to slow. She was short-tempered and raised her voice at least once when Kelynen asked her to check on a pan of pasta she’d left on one of the AGA’s stoves. She wasn’t punished for it even though she realistically should have been.

  More than anything, it seemed to convince Kelynen that Amy needed a second of solitude. She went to retrieve some vegetables from one of the storage rooms adjacent to the kitchen and closed the door behind her.

  And that’s when Amy tried to escape. She made her way through the double doors connecting the kitchen to the main dining hall. Ray was on the other side of the room, past the massive table in the centre and busied himself cleaning a firepce surrounded by two rge sofas.

  Luckily, Ray allowed himself to be dragged to the door out to the hallway, but they never made it that far. Rose tased Amy. Ray backed off and insisted on his innocence. And despite it all, Amy didn’t even resist being escorted to the cells.

  And now she’s alone. Helpless. Unable to protect anyone she cares about.

  She acted on a gut feeling, on her fears, her inherent weaknesses as someone with the mind of a woman, and this is how she’s rewarded. Failure as measured in seventeen iron bars between her and the world.

  Knowing what happened to Ray, she’s going to be down here for quite a while.

  It’s not as miserable as it used to be — she’s been provided with a mattress, pillow, some thin sheets and is allowed clothing — but she’s still kept far away from both of her friends, when they need her the most. In her resistance, she’s left them to their fate. She’s such a useless, pathetic retard.

  ***

  Amy must have fallen asleep at some point. It’s not like she has much better to do. There’s nothing to keep her mind occupied other than her own mistakes. She has plenty of those, but not enough to avoid drowsiness forever. It doesn’t help that the lights that had once been so terribly bright have been turned down to a dimmed orange glow. At least it makes opening her eyes easier.

  The reason why she woke up is obvious. A rather annoyed looking Eira is standing right in front of Amy, arms crossed over a beautiful light blue dress that contrasts well with her red hair. Her high heels combine with the few inches she already had over the three boys to leave her towering over them.

  Her eyes pierce Amy like arrows, and her face reveals her impatience. Clearly, there are things she’d much rather be doing right now. Yet, she doesn’t say a word. It’s not like she particurly has to say a word. Amy knows what she did wrong. It’s all she could really think about. Just a dissatisfied look is enough to remind her. And there’s nothing Amy can do to argue her case, not after she agreed with the concept that it would make sense to punish people for trying to escape. Not after Ray had set the precedent for what that would look like.

  It doesn’t expin why Eira is here, though. She’s not someone who shows up simply to scare people. Usually, she wants something from them. What she could want from Amy is unclear. It can’t be anything other than an admission or an expnation, the tter of which is not going to happen. She doesn’t want to experience what happens to her if she reveals the fact she knows about their eventual fate. Because either they know she does and punish her for talking about it despite being ordered to never do so, or they don’t and end up worried that the carefully crafted information regime they’ve maintained has been ruined. If they want to keep their fate from Ray and Faith, the only real option would be to get rid of Amy, somehow.

  Her best option is to not say anything at all. It’s not like they can seriously punish her. She’s down here already. There’s not much left they could take away from her, beyond food and drinks. Whilst Eira has already proven herself perfectly capable of taking them away, Amy has established that she will be stubborn to such an extreme degree that neither of them would want to walk that path in the first pce. So there’s a deadlock and no information of particur use is exchanged.

  They look at each other for a while, but Eira is the first to speak.

  “Well, if this isn’t a miserable sight. Look at you. You’re on the floor in a near-foetal position, Amy.” She shakes her head. “It’s completely unbefitting of you. Where’s the confident woman I met st month? The one who would overcome her pain just so she didn’t have to look up to see me?”

  Who cares if she’s on the floor? She’s fucked up regardless. It’s not going to impact her situation. Yet this woman insists on rubbing it in. “You don’t have to be so—”

  Eira mercilessly shocked her foot. “Voice.”

  “What does it matter? I’m down here anyways.” Another shock, more intense this time. It’s not even enjoyable right now. She’s not had any forepy with softer shocks or drawn-out humiliation.

  “It matters because it impacts whether you leave this cell or not. The time you will spend isoted from the other girls is indefinite, just as it was for Jenny. If you want to have your privileges restored, you need to prove yourself worthy, and you prove yourself worthy by showing you can follow the standards we’ve id out for you. We’ve given you very simple rules to live by: follow orders, be polite, avoid using slurs, do your homework and use a feminine voice. You understood this and agreed to them. You are to carry them out to the best of your ability, and I know you can do much better than that. You can talk like a woman if you want to, so do so. If I was interested in hearing you whimper like a boy I wouldn’t have brought you here nor made you live by these rules.”

  Amy raises the pitch of her voice somewhat. “Okay. Happy now?”

  Eira shocks her again, this time at the maximum intensity. “Of course not. We’ve heard recordings of you singing. You can do so much higher than that. You know how to do head voice. So you’re going to do those things. Kelynen might go easy on you, but I won’t, and definitely not down here. So, will you actually comply with the orders given to you this time?”

  Amy looks away from the woman, not even dignifying the demands with a response.

  “I asked you a question, Ms. Finch.” Her tone screamed controlled anger. It’s id on a little too thickly, though. Amy is pretty sure that Eira is pretending to some extent.

  It might not be a good idea to call her bluff, but that’s not going to stop her. “What will you do if I don’t? Send me to the cells? Give me more electric shocks even if I like those?”

  Another shock. Less intense than the st, but that’s likely got more to do with safety precautions than anything else— at least, Amy would have hoped the tter would be deserving of something more.

  Eira paces for a moment, thinking about her response. She seems genuinely conflicted, which is something Amy hasn’t seen yet. One of the woman’s great strengths is improvising, and it’s been a major influence in her actually managing to gain some real control over Amy.

  “I normally wouldn’t tell you girls this, but clearly these threats of punishment are not particurly effective on you — especially when Kelynen is the one forced to carry those out — so I might as well give you the real threat you want.” She looks down at Amy, genuinely disappointed. “If you wish, there’d be an option for permanent relocation. I doubt you’d like that option— you’d be stuck with a bunch of men. The kind of men who will sexually harass women, domestically abuse them, or get in constant scraps with others. Misogynists, homophobes, transphobes. You would still become a woman and regain your freedom in the end — frankly, you would be so far along in the process it would be an absurd proposition to try to pass you off as a boy — but you would not do so alongside your friends. You’d be sent to the other side of the country and no longer able to talk to them. Given st night's activities, I doubt you would want to break Faith’s heart like that.”

  “You can’t keep using her against me like that.” Amy gres up at Eira.

  “What are you going to do? Pout at us?” Eira ughs. “We can easily point out the results of your own actions. It’s the only argument you’ll actually take seriously. Now, don’t get too worried. You won’t be sent elsewhere for a very long time. We’re not giving up on you. I’ll be taking you on as a personal responsibility before you get yourself to that point— and you’re not even at that stage yet.”

  “For now, you’re still a rather silly girl who made a foolhardy attempt to escape knowing it would be impossible. That means your access to Faith and Jenny is dependent on you being well-behaved and going along with the programme. If you wish to leave this cell and see her again, you will have to follow the rules we id out for you. That includes using a feminine voice. Do you understand and agree?”

  “I—” Amy winces a little, readjusts her rynx and forces herself into head voice. “I understand and agree.”

  Eira smiles at her for a moment, then snaps back into her dominant attitude. Clearly she’s not done with her yet. “Good. Stand up.”

  Amy freezes for a moment, rather confused. What’s that got to do with anything?

  “I asked you to stand up. Do so. Now. I won’t ask you a third time.”

  Amy stands up, still averting her gaze. It’s uncomfortable enough to give them control over her clothing, hormones and voice— it’s something else to let herself be puppeteered like this.

  Yet she’s not going to fight it. It’s not worth it.

  More orders follow.

  “You can do better than that. Stop hunching your shoulders and keep your back straight.”

  Amy does so without question. It’s easy enough and definitely not worth getting shocked over.

  “Good. I want your hands where I can see them. Hold your right wrist with your left hand at the bottom of your belly.”

  The orders are getting very specific now, but Amy finds some pleasure in following them. It’s very clear what Eira wants. She doesn’t have to think about it, just do as she’s told.

  “Good. Look into my eyes.

  Amy’s eyes snap to Eira’s. Her sapphire irises are as beautiful as they’ve always been.

  “It’s so much better to see you like this, Amy. It’s so much more maid-like. So much more dignified. Women shouldn’t sulk on the floor. Definitely not any of the women we’ll create here.”

  Amy certainly doesn’t feel confident. She’s struggling to keep eye contact with Eira as is. Her blush hasn’t been this bad since she arrived at the manor — neither has her excitement. She feels like she could do anything the woman wants, no matter how objectionable it would otherwise be.

  “Let’s get to the actual point of this conversation. You tried to escape. It’s not entirely unexpected that you girls will make such attempts. Jenny did so instinctively when she thought she found a small weakness in our systems, but I know you’ve been thinking more deeply about it than that. You were working on pns. Yet, today’s attempt was not that. You panicked.”

  Amy feels a soft shock to her foot— a punishment for breaking eye contact.

  “Look at me so I know you’re paying attention.” Eira pauses her speech for a moment. “You panicked. There has to be something that caused you to do so and I want to know exactly what.”

  “I didn’t panic, ma’am.” Amy protests, weakly.

  “Don’t lie to me.” Eira sounds genuinely annoyed. “I’ve seen the clips. You looked haunted all day, stuck in your thoughts. You flinched every time someone talked to you. You looked at the clock every few minutes, like a student who really wanted to be anywhere other than the css they were forced to attend. You were dazed when Kelynen finally gave you a bit of room to escape—”

  “She allowed me to try to escape?” Amy said in some disbelief.

  “More accurately, she wanted to see what you would do. Something was up, and whatever happened you would have been sent upstairs — to recover — or downstairs, to this cell. She’s smarter than you think. Your actions helped prove the theory that something is making you panic. Something which we will have to solve, so I need you to be honest in telling me what it is.”

  “You don’t have to pretend to care—” Amy flinched when Eira shocked her again.

  “One: use a more respectful tone than that. Two: Pay attention to your posture— you’re hunching again. Three: we do care. If we didn’t care, we wouldn’t go out of our way to try to stop you from spiralling and instead try to bring out the good girl in you. We catch glimpses of her from time to time and we will make sure she is free and able to thrive.”

  Amy really wants to challenge Eira on this assertion, but she can’t. Not like this. She’s exhausted. She needs to rest, and challenging her on points like this will only dey that opportunity more. If she wants to think she’s part of a very small group of people who have ever cared about her, she can do so all she wants. She’s only deluding herself.

  Another soft shock to her foot and her eyes meet Eira’s again. It’s surprisingly hard to keep eye contact.

  “You’re not going to just tell me, are you? You’d rather take the harder way out?” She frowns. “Because I had two theories about what could have set you off. The first option was that something happened between Faith and you that caused you to become avoidant. You didn’t feel worthy or something along those lines, and that feeling led you to try to escape. But that can’t be true, because you tried to escape with Jenny and were headed into the hallway where Faith was working. You could just have tried to break a window in the kitchen itself if you wanted to escape alone.”

  Amy blushes. She hadn’t even considered how they would get out of the building yet. Breaking a window might have worked.

  “Sadly for you, the windows are made of—” She pauses, rethinking what she was about to say. “Something you can’t destroy that easily. So that leaves the second option. Something about Elle visiting set you off.”

  “Who’s Elle?” Amy asks. She then remembers one of the rules and follows it uncritically in her submissive haze. “Ma’am.”

  “Eldine Lambert. The owner of this manor. The woman you were supposed to meet over dinner.” Eira looks quite puzzled again. It wasn’t the answer she had expected. “Tell me. What about it worried you so much?”

  Amy looked away and was shocked again, but didn’t snap back. She couldn’t. What she was about to say was too stupid, too embarrassing. But it had to come out. It felt almost compulsive. “I— Well. I thought she may have been a, uh, man.”

  “She’s not, but if she was, would there be any issue with that?”

  Amy couldn’t answer that question even if she wanted to. It’s obvious what would be wrong with that. It should be obvious to Eira as well. So much so that there is no answer to give, only the vague hint of tears starting to pool in her eyes.

  She never cried. Especially not around other people. Not even back in the hotel room after Cecil had threatened her. It’s another thing estrogen seems to have changed about her.

  The cell door opened and Eira took a few steps towards Amy, then softly took her chin in her hand, guiding her to make eye contact. She doesn’t look angry. If anything, she looks genuinely concerned. Like she cares. “It’s okay to be scared. We all are, sometimes. But I need to know what scares you so I can help you overcome that fear. You don’t have to live with a phobia like that.”

  “It’s not a phobia.” Amy whimpers. She wants to rely on Eira for comfort, no matter how stupid a decision that would be.

  “So it’s a rational fear?” She asks. Somehow, she’d gotten exactly what Amy meant, even if Amy hadn’t understood it herself.

  “I— I can’t talk about it.” God, she sounds so stupid. “Please, I—”

  “Oh? Why not?” Of course Eira wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  “He told me not to.” Definitely stupid. She should just say it, but what if it’s a trap? What if she’s doing something that will lead to her getting in serious trouble?

  Would she? She can’t exactly think straight anymore. She wants to sleep. She needs to sleep. Just like she needs to hold something really tight right now.

  “I don’t see any men around here. What did he say?”

  Can she just say it? Probably not. Can she keep her mouth shut any longer? Definitely not.

  “Everything. About the rape and the svery and forcible feminisation, how our very survival would depend on us pleasing them— being thrown away when we didn’t—” She spoke rapidly, losing any remaining composure she might have had. “I know what’s going to happen to us. What you’re trying to do— How things used to be—”

  “Amy.” Eira waits for her to calm down and look her in the eyes again. “That is not what we intend for you. That is never what we intended for you. We are not like those people. Our entire approach is built on being better than them, using the resources at our disposal to save people who were going down harmful paths.”

  “I can’t believe that.” She whispers. How could she? No matter how badly she wants to trust Eira on her word, the woman has a vested interest in leading Amy to a different conclusion, especially if her knowledge was correct.

  “You don’t have to. Not for now, okay?” Eira guides Amy down to the bed, letting her sit down. “You should rest. We’ll discuss this more tomorrow — in a more fitting setting — and we’ll do so with someone who knows about the current state of Dorley Hall. It’d be good for you. Do you think you could do that?”

  Amy nods. It’s probably a bad idea, but she’s fucked regardless. Might as well see it through to the end.

  “Good. You’ll meet Elle tomorrow after breakfast. You’ll get a chance to clean yourself beforehand. We will relieve you from your other duties that day, as I expect it will be tiring enough to have those conversations. Your other duties, such as those reting to your presentation, will not be suspended. But for now—” She pauses. “Look at me.”

  Amy does so, but only because she knows she’ll finally get a break afterwards.

  “Talking about things like that is hard. But I’m gd you did so despite your fears. You’ve been a good girl today, Amy.”