This was your final year, his sixteenth birthday just a week behind him. This was your final chance to shape his future, rather than have it shaped for you. If the results were poor, then you'd be denied any future education, and streamed into a more productive, less academic job.
You have to put down the pen, as your hand started to tremble, it was a future that included Joy-girl; Wet nurse, Meter Maid, as a future career. Many of the less challenging jobs, had their own rather different stimulations, and attractions. You had worked as hard as possible, to earn your place, to earn a suitable wife. To have a beautiful and obedient wife, rather than wear the stockings, and jiggle and giggle for her man's approval. A career as a programmer, it wasn't the most masculine career. But you're sure you can do it well, and leave the macho bullshit, to the others.
It was no comfort that feminisation was meant to come with an enhanced libido, and reduced IQ. Both meant to be comforting to those who failed their suitability exams, and as a promise to greater submissiveness towards her superior, both physically and mentally.
Controlling your breathing, you go back over the answers, double-checking them, and calming yourself.
Your name at the top: Jack Brockman. Your Class: Class IVb.
- - - - -
Half an hour into the exam, a sobbing Robin Johnson had been lead from the exam hall. Nerves getting too much for him. Even as he'd tried to cling to his desk, to demand the right to sit the exam, his voice was cracking, and his fingers shook, unable to lift his pen, let alone write with it.
He'd been half-carried from the hall. His crack-up dooming him, his lack of confidence, and automatic 0% in the exam making his conversion into a Joy Girl, or a Meter Maid a virtual certainty.
With selective breeding, women's bodies had been enhanced, from an average B-cup, over two hundred years, to a minimum D-cup. It had come with a price. The government IQ tests, confirmed that women had now been bred into a more docile, less intelligent partner for man. The difference wasn't huge, wasn't definitive, but after the nanite revolution. Well, the natural born girls were proud of their intelligence, and more modest bodies.
The converted, were more sexual, with both their demands, and their needs. Their intelligence was markedly poorer, and that had felt like a kindness. But as you scan your answers, you can't help but imagine failing, you can't help but imagine the conversion, the feel of satin panties caressing your fuller, plumper rear. The cradling of your new bust, and the tickling caress as a mane of long curls cascades down your spine.
You feel an unwanted erection, at the image. Not of your transformation, you tell yourself. But of the staggering beauty, of how near to reality she is. Once you pass. Yes! You have to know you'll pass.
Looking off into the distance, you try to reign your thoughts in. You don't want to be hiding a stiffy, as you leave the hall behind.
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