This choice: Andrew can’t go through with it • Go Back...Chapter #3Andrew can’t go through with it by: DragonFish   Andrew sat in his apartment with the blinds drawn tight. The room was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of his TV screen that had long since gone silent on a paused game. Empty soda cans and fast food wrappers littered the floor. His phone buzzed constantly, notifications from friends, calls from his parents, even messages from unknown numbers. He ignored them all.
He had moved his car two blocks away in the dead of night, parked behind a shuttered dry cleaner. It was a paranoid move, but he couldn’t risk them tracking it. He knew he was breaking the law by not reporting in, but the thought of stepping into that facility, of letting them rewrite him against his will, was too much.
He had thought, maybe, just maybe, if he laid low for a few weeks, they would let it go. Maybe the system would forget him. Maybe he could vanish.
But the Federal Gender Administration didn’t forget. On the third morning of his hiding, they came.
The crash of his front door shattering jolted Andrew from a restless sleep on the couch. Armed agents in matte-black uniforms swept into the apartment like a storm. Before he could run or scream, they had him pinned, a needle in his neck, the world going dark around him.
When Andrew came to, the lights above him were sterile and blinding. His wrists were restrained to the sides of a padded recliner, and the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air.
"Subject 21704," a voice said from behind a pane of glass. "You failed to report during your assigned window. Per Clause 8C, your reassignment will now be intensified."
Andrew groaned, struggling weakly. "Please... I was going to come... I just needed more time."
"Noncompliance forfeits the standard transition protocol. Your genome will be restructured to reflect an idealized female phenotype based on predictive data, adjusted to meet current social and reproductive needs."
He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear free of the straps and run far, far away. But the sedatives still buzzed through his veins. All he could do was watch as the serum was prepared, thicker than he expected, glowing faintly pink in the vial.
"If you had come when ordered, your transition would have been simpler. Subtler. You would have retained most of your features. But now..."
Andrew tried to block out the words, but they burned into his mind.
"Now we will rewrite you fully. Your body will be tailored to optimal aesthetic and functional parameters. You will serve where the need is greatest."
The needle entered his arm.
The changes came quickly. Too quickly. In the mirror across the room, he watched in horror and awe as muscle softened, bones cracked and reshaped. His reflection became a stranger. Then, it became something else entirely.
His frame narrowed, waist cinched, chest swelled into exaggerated curves. Hair lengthened, darkened, lips plumped. His skin gleamed unnaturally smooth. He had been turned into a vision—no, a caricature—of femininity, sculpted not by nature but by algorithm and mandate.
"You are no longer Andrew Wilson," the voice said. "Your new identity and assignment will be issued shortly. Get some rest. You will begin orientation tomorrow."
He stared at the mirror long after the lights dimmed, eyes wide with a mix of sorrow, disbelief... and fear.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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