Help Trixie

“Meet me in my room after,” you whisper to Trixie. She smiles guardedly, and you finish your meal in silence.

You get up from the table first, and head to your room.

A few minutes later Trixie slips in the door.

“I took the ledger earlier today,” you tell her. Her face lights up, and she jumps onto your bed with a pounce that's positively girlish. You decide not to share this observation, since it would probably bother her.

Together you flip through the ledger until you get to “Halls, Trixie”.

“What does it say?” she says, holding her breath.

“Franklin Borstein,” you tell her. She digs out a pen and paper and carefully writes it down.

“What do you plan to do, now that you know that?” you ask.

She frowns. “Nothing yet. My problem is, my wife stuck me in this fucking place for cheating on her, and she's arranged to make sure the body I end up in is somewhere in Norway or something - way far away from her. I don't even remember where we lived. I just want clues to work on when I get out of here, so I can find her again and get back at her for doing this to me. So I'm just going to sock this away.”

“Can you read mine for me?” you ask.

She looks at you, shaking her head. “Sorry, Janet, but no.”

“No? Why not?” you demand. “I just helped you.”

“You're a voluntary. I'll be honest with you. You asked to be brought here; in my book that means you get what you asked for.”

“But - but that isn't fair!” you protest.

“No, and life isn't either. Look, only two kinds of people end up here voluntarily - fools who don't know any better and people who genuinely think being a submissive little sexpot is a preferable life choice to living as an independent, virile male. If you're a fool then I'm truly sorry. If you prefer this lifestyle, then I'm not going to help you hide from the consequences of your choices. You gave up your manhood, Janet - and you gave up the rights and privileges that come with having a dick. I've known lots of women who were more deserving of manhood than you. This school's perfect for little cockwhores like you.”

Trixie finishes her diatribe, and the expression on her face is a mixture of distaste and surprise that she said so much. She excuses herself and leaves.

You sit in your room for awhile. After some time passes, Maggie, the RA, pokes her head in.

“Hey Janet, you're due at Mr. Markley's house in about ten minutes for Maid duty - it's #3 Linden Lane. Just a heads up.”