Attach cuffs to bedpost

You reach your arms over your head and behind you, your hands fumbling on the post for the steel ring. You find it, and fumble with the locking clasp until it's just on the rim of the ring.

You pause a second, realizing that doing this will render you utterly helpless.

But then, you've been helpless since TRAINER transformed you anyway. And despite all the disadvantages of the position you're in - you've been humiliated; you've been fucked; your physical body and life has been stolen from you; you're trapped in a school where you can expect more humiliation, more fucking, more physical and emotional domination - or actually, because of them, you've never been more aroused in your life.

You give a tug, and the clasp clicks home.

And, with a mixture of relief and resignation, you sag, hanging by your wrist restraints, your legs suddenly feeling watery and weak.

You tug at the restraints experimentally. They're quite solidly attached. There's no way you're going to get yourself free.

And this makes your cunt wet. Which is, of course, why you did this to yourself in the first place.

You've got time now, you realize - you're not going anywhere, and it's likely to be a while before Mister Markley comes back home. Time for some confessions.

Up until now things have mostly been happening to you; it's been easy to tell yourself that all of this was involuntary.

But, given the opportunity - you're alone in his house, after all, and it's at the edge of the school campus - instead of trying to escape, you prepared yourself to be fucked again by him.

Let's just be frank, shall we? You've had these inclinations all your life. You never acted on them, even though vat-grown replacement bodies have been available for years, for all kinds of reasons. Shame is a big one - shame for wanting this, shame of your family finding out, shame for not being a real man.

Then there's the fact that you actually like your life - you have (or had) a good, fulfilling career, plenty of friends, fun things to do in a great city.

But now, you're surrounded by people who not only believe your gender reassignment is a good idea, they plan to keep you female. They believe you never deserved to be a man. They want you to be a submissive little cocksucking girl, and plan to beat the remaining masculinity out of you. And they're going to succeed, you realize.

They've replaced everything you had - your life, your body, your career - with everything you've fantasized about. While you have regrets about the things you've lost, you've never been more turned on in your life.

You wonder what will happen when they put you back in the real world, in your new body. Will they let you try to reconnect with your old life, as a female? You really don't want to lose your family. Maybe you could build up the courage to admit to them your true nature. It's not like you could hide it now. Your brother Joe's got teenaged kids; maybe you could move in with them. He always said he wanted a daughter...but that's probably too wierd.

You think about Sophie. She went through this too, but as an involuntary student. What happened? Who did this to her - to him - and why? To have this happen to you when you want it, that's one thing - but Sophie should have had some choice.

Maybe there's something you can do to help her.

You ruminate about these and other things for a long time - it's impossible to know how long.

You keep thinking about Sophie. You were pretty pissed off at her for spending such long periods of time in IVR, and your suspicions were more or less correct - she was having an affair, of sorts. But then she was largely brainwashed too, so it's hard to hold her accountable for her actions.

Someone took John Carruthers, and made him Sophie Carruthers. And as far as you can tell, Sophie doesn't even fully understand what was done to her. Why? Why was that necessary?

Some time later, you hear footsteps downstairs. You quickly stand upright, your heart racing - you'd been more or less hanging by your wrists, your legs tired from standing in place.

The stairs creak; a figure rises out of the stairwell.

It's not Mister Markley.

It's you.

You stare in shock at your own reflection - except it's not your reflection now, is it? This tall man, with a face and form as familiar to you as the back of your hand, smiles down at you, a smile that has an odd familiarity to it.

“Jesus,” he says, “You managed to get yourself fucked pretty damned quick, didn't you?”

“Who - who are you?” you stammer.

“Who the fuck do you think, Gerald? Or should I say, Janet? It's me, Sophie. I'm logged in using your IVR rig and your Profile. I didn't have much fucking choice, since you'd managed to get mine stolen, along with your body.”

He looks around at the bedroom, shaking his head. “You know, I thought this place was real. I spent a lot of time up in this room,” he adds, a faint smile on his lips. “Funny thing, memory. I'm all full of fake memory. Not this stuff, of course - even though it was IVR, I'm pretty sure I spent several years here. I'm talking about older stuff. I remember being a 5 year old girl, playing with dolls, you know? All crap.”

“Did you come to get me out of here?” you ask.

“Partly. Although it looks like I might be doing you a disservice by rescuing you. What the fuck have you done?”

You tell him everything that's happened since you logged in using her Profile. He leans against the bed, listening. When you get to the part about his true male name - John Carruthers - he has you repeat it.

“That's another reason I came here,” he says. “I want to find out what happened to me.” He thinks for a moment.

“I'd ask you if you wanted to reconsider your decision,” he says finally, “but that just seems, well, wrong to me. The fact that you voluntarily did this to yourself pretty much invalidates any claim you have to masculinity in my book. I'm certainly more deserving, anyway. So I don't mind telling you that I located your old body and hacked into it. It's in the warehouse of some clone outfit - they provide clone bodies to the rich. It was in the process of being fitted for a new mind, and I got booted out by the Company AI.”

You look up at him, a bit shocked. You've been in such a haze, ever since TRAINER feminized you, that what exactly was being done to your old body was not at the top of your mind. The fact that it's already got a new occupant only drives home the finality of your emasculation.

“It's true, then,” you whisper. “I'm never going back.”

“Apparently not,” he agrees amiably. “Janet...” you start at the name - although everyone in this domain has consistently treated you like a teenaged girl, hearing your own girlfriend call you by your new female name is a little unsettling.

“Yes?” you reply faintly.

“You're welcome to pursue your fantasies if you like. But I'd still like some help from you.”

“How? What can I do to help?” you ask, shrugging your shoulders. You're naked and chained, after all.

“Well, for starters, I want to try booting you out of this Domain, out of IVR, and into your new body. I figure you're in the same facility they used to transform me. Sneak around and see if you can find anything out. Then come back, log in and I'll slip back into this Domain.” He smiles. “Hell, I'll even leave you cuffed to the bed, if you like.”

“What do I get out of it?” you ask.

“Well,” he says, grinning, “I know your past experience with me is not a good indicator of my natural tendencies, so let's just say I'm a very assertive person. I'm dominant. And the fact that our roles have been literally reversed is very entertaining to me. You know, it always pissed me off that you didn't have a clue how to handle a submissive girl. I thought you were just not paying attention to what I wanted. Now I realize it was just that you weren't really a man.”

“I plan to take advantage of your newfound femininity. Whether you like it or not. So if you say no, dear, I'll just make things very painful for you. So...do I have your help? Yes or no?”