Go to cafateria

This small dining hall has east and west facing windows, allowing ample sunlight to shine in. A long low common table runs the length of the room, with benches on either side.

You walk into the cafeteria, and see that a half-dozen other girls are already seated at the long common table, eating and talking quietly. They're all in casual wear - skirts, tanktops, or tube tops, sandals or barefoot.

A proctor is watching over the girls. He sees you, comes and guides you to an open space at the table between two tall blondes. A moment later one of the cooking staff puts a tray in front of you.

You look around at the girls. They're all, every one of them, utterly beautiful. Some of the chattier girls are clustered at one end of the table, and whisper and giggle to each other. At the other end are a few girls who eat their food silently, unsmiling, seemingly mortified at the predicament they're in.

For all of these girls, you realize, were once men. Some of them - the gigglers, for example - are voluntaries like you (though you don't like to think of yourself as being associated with them); some were feminized forcibly, and have much more complicated feelings about trials and pleasures of their daily routine.

You're eating absently - the food's actually quite good, but your mind is preoccupied - when you realize one of the melancholy girls is talking to you.

“What?” you say, turning to the girl. She's small, like you, with rusty red hair and ample breasts that seems to have tried to hide by wrapping a scarf over her shoulders.

She's leaning over the table toward you. “I said, I'm Trixie. You're Janet, right?”

“Yeah. I guess,” you answer ruefully.

“I heard you have Library duty,” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

She gives a sidelong glance over at the proctor. “I - I want to know my real name. There's a ledger there, with all of our names in it. I know because I've seen it; I just can't read my own name out of it. Can you do it for me?”

You took the ledger from the library. You could help Trixie if you want, or tell Trixie sorry.