This choice: To a femininity training camp • Go Back...Chapter #6To a femininity training camp by: Yote   First things first, research. You sit down in front of a computer with coffee and a pad of paper, and spend the next few hours just reading and making notes. Soon the coffee is gone and the pad of paper is covered in scribbles. There's a lot of information on the phenomenon on social media sites but none of that is a reliable source, and there's plenty of articles written on the matter by other newspapers, but most of them are poorly researched and clearly biased one way or another, depending on the conservative/liberal slant of the paper. If you want an impartial, factual account, you're going to have to get involved yourself.
There is one thing that your internet browsing keeps bringing you back to - a number of academies have sprung up that purport to bring men up to date on the arts of womanhood, part training camp, part spa treatment. There are dozens of them, all claiming to turn men into beautiful, charming girls in a month, but since your boss is covering the expenses you find the most expensive one offering luxury accommodation and Michelin star catering. The academy takes on a new coachload of clients every month, and the next departure date is today! If you miss that you'll have to wait another month! Quickly you fill out the paperwork online, plug in your credit card details, and seal away your fate for the next five weeks.
You pack everything you think you might need into your suitcase, including several hidden microcameras, listening devices, even your lockpicking set, it never hurts to be prepared. You panic as you realise you only have male clothes to wear, wondering if that will look suspicious, but with time running out you're forced to shrug it off and hurry to the meeting point in town.
You needn't had worried. Instead of the group of preening, effeminate fembois you had expected, you find the crowd waiting for the coach to be remarkably normal looking men, as though they could just be waiting for a football match. Many of them shuffle about in an embarrassed fashion, shooting wary glances around as though afraid that somebody might see them, and there is much relief when the coach finally arrives and the group piles on it.
The coach rumbles out of town, heading into the countryside. Casually you start to get to know the other men on the trip, keeping it friendly and polite while subtly prying into their personal situations and jogging down mental notes. To your surprise, there seems to be no common trait among them, they all seem to come from different walks of life - there are teenagers and men well past retirement age. There are single, married, and divorced men, even a gay couple traveling together. Some are businessmen, others work as waiters, nurses, doctors, clerks, bricklayers and plasterers, chefs, teachers, artists.
When you ask why they're going, some of them reply with a chuckle that their wives forced them into it. Others are just trying to keep up with modern fashion. More than a few are doing it for career reasons, saying that promotion prospects are better for women (or women-ish people) at their place of work, while some employers have actively mandated the changes as a stipulation in their contract! The business executive states rather smugly that beautiful women are often underestimate in the world of high finance, and that making the change will allow him to negotiate harder on contracts, though looking at his heaving belly and sagging jowls you can't imagine how the well-fed Fat Cat could ever look remotely like a woman, let alone beautiful. One young man admits to having no interest in the feminizing treatments but won the trip on the local radio and just couldn't stand to waste it.
You sit back in your seat somewhat dismayed. There goes your theory that the men were all being brainwashed by subliminal messages in Justine Bieber's latest album. Most of the older men have never ever heard of the slutty pop temptress.
The coach travels on for hours, heading into open country then plunging into a huge, dark forest along a bumpy dirt track, which eventually opens out into a large estate, acres of perfectly-maintained lawns studded here and there with fountains and follys, standing in the center of which is a huge, grey stone manor house covered in centuries of Ivy. The coach pulls up on the gravel driveway, and the group disembarks to stand nervously in the shadow of the large building. It is getting into late evening.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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