The “yes” button, obviously.

You hesitate for a second, then press “yes”, and the mod begins in earnest. You see nothing but white before you seem to come to, you are sitting in a car, in a passenger seat, with your fiancé driving. She is so hot. Blonde, neck-length curls, blue eyes like sapphires, a sharp nose that might seem weird to others but looks good on her face, with thick, full lips that have lipstick on it. You drive in silence down a backroad that is paved in asphalt in the beautiful New York countryside. You both are a few hours away from New York City, traveling to ‘Madame L’s Sissy Academy’, where you will undergo a transformation with the woman of your life. The ride is quiet, and you pass under a canopy of trees, and finally you see it. The…campus? Boarding house? You don’t know what to call it or what it may be called.

It doesn’t take long for you to pull into the parking lot out front and you both get out. You have a suitcase of clothes with you, and your fiancé gets her purse. You stride through the front door to the receptionist desk, which is staffed by a sissy, as it is fitting for this place. “Welcome to Madame L’s Sissy Academy, how May I help you?” “Dropping a new student off.” The receptionist looks you over. “I see. And you do realize that the course is non-reversible, and lasts 20-28 weeks on average?” “Yes, I do.” “Ok, here are some papers you both will need to fill out, make sure you have your paperwork that was no doubt printed out at home turned in so that we can make sure everything is in order. You can sit down over there, if you need anything, ma’am, just let me know.”

You are filled with goosebumps, and are jittery. Your fiancé fills out the paperwork after taking a seat and you have to fill out a few papers, including a consent form for the both of you, and you skim over it all, not reading into detail, just checking boxes, signing and initialing your name and initials. Your fiancé puts the other papers she needs to on the clipboard and walks back up to the desk with you. The receptionist looks them over and stamps them. “Hold out your wrist darling.” You do so and she attaches a fiber paper band around your wrist, neon pink. They turn back to your fiance. “Do you have a name you want him to go by when we are done here?” Three names pop up for you to select. “Rose.” “Natalie.” Or “Carly.”