Grace Rivers’ Rehabilitation Center — The Birdie Course
I’m Alex Robinson. I am a man.
I have been convincted of manslaughter because I crushed the head of a man who wanted to rape me. This pig deserved it, but legitimate defense apparently didn’t fly. I accepted a deal to undergo some kind of psychiatry thing to shorten my sentence. Because any way you look at it, getting jailed for killing a rapist is bullshit. So yeah, even though this is an all-female psych facility, why wouldn’t I accept ?
They gave me a diary. This is girl stuff, but there’s fuck else to do. It’s still prison, after all. A cushier kind of prison, with my own shower in my cell, but prison. Anyway, the head honcho here is a middle-aged woman called Grace Rivers. Sexy woman, but with weird white hair, and pretty much an ice queen. I’d still rail her, though.
But after my first night here, she introduced me to one of the inmates, and...what the fuck, man. Being in an all-female prison is bad enough, but this girl was a caricature. She was clearly more than twenty, but she acted like a middle school girl. Like, way too much. The type of floozy that swoons over famous actors and stuff.
Not that I look much better. The uniform here is girly and pink. That’s gotta be against respect of a prisoner’s dignity, man !
I really should concentrate on enjoying my new cell. At least I can do push ups without banging my elbows on the bed.
Principal Rivers’ Analysis—Not entirely sure the judge was justified in convicting her of manslaughter, but well, I don’t have her agressor’s autopsy report. In any case, she’s an open-and-shut case for the Birdies. I want her in my office tomorrow at eight.
Interview tape № 119-1
Patient : Alex Robinson
“Mrs.Robinson. Have a seat, please.”
“I’m a man. And no, I don’t regret killing that guy.”
“Rest assured, I am not here to question your guilt or lack thereof, merely to assure your rehabilitation.”
“Okay, fair enough I guess...?” Alex shrugged before sitting down. “And what the fuck is up with this uniform ?”
The rehabilitation center’s Principal looked at the physically ripped young person with a boyish cut and a rough expression. She did look pretty silly in the uniform. Still, Mrs.Rivers was determined to have a real, serious talk with this particular inmate.
“Yes, I’m rather afraid we don’t have many inmates like you here. We try to conjure a high-school image with this uniform, but I can imagine it being very uncomfortable to you. Your file mentions that prior to your incarceration, you took steps towards sex reassignment ?”
“That’s right. I never saw myself as a girl. Ever since I was, like, seven or eight, I tried to live as a boy. Ain’t easy, but at least I got hormonal therapy since my puberty. It’s just that the doctors didn’t think I was ready for the surgery. Bullshit. I’ve never been more ready for anything”
Rivers kept looking at Alex.
“Your parents were very supportive, were they not ?”
“Yeah, I had their full support.”
“And what are their occupations ?”
“Well, my father is a judge and my mother a secretary for the federal governement.”
“And what was their reaction when you announced you wanted to be a boy ?”
“Well, they were proud of me, of course. It never posed any problem...It’s not like they were buying me girly clothes anyway.”
“Hmpf.”
“What’s that supposed to mean ?”
“Simply that the gift of fertility is bestowed on the wrong people.”
She gets up and circles the room.
“I have read the psych evaluation you underwent prior to reassignement surgery. They had concluded you weren’t exactly level-headed in your “decision”.”
“Oh, bullshit !”
“Is it ? You willingly joined an all-female rehabilitation center. That’s not something a confident man does. Neither is begrudgingly putting on a girly uniform. You weren’t coerced in any way, you just moaned a bit and then wore it.”
“That...That doesn’t mean anything !” Alex said, blushing.
“I do not know what led your parents to make you believe you wanted this, but I know a conflicted patient when I see one.”
“I...Are you friggin’ serious ?”
Doctor Rivers sat down again and calmly said :
“Normally we let patients live with the Birdies for a week and decide if they stay in the Birdie course or switch to Candy or Dolly...”
“Oh, for fucks sake, not the Birdies ! Even one day with them and I’m fed up ! Those girls are fucking annoying ! They even called me Lexie !”
“...But as I was about to say before your rude interruption, I don’t need the trial period. You are going to join the Birdies.”
“But I said...!”
“And being uncomfortable around them is the main reason why you’re getting their treatment. You are a girl, Alex, and must accept yourself as such.”
“FUCK YOU ! I’M OUT OF...Hey ! Let me go you...mmfh !”
Robinson was restrained and gagged by the guards before she even had the time to finish her outburst.
“Not to worry,” continued Rivers, unfazed, “we have the means to turn you into a very amicable young woman smoothly. Get her to medical, they’ll take it from here.”
The two female guards nodded and dragged the furious young inmate. Once she was alone in her office, she began typing on her computer.
Principal Rivers’ analysis—Pacify her through enhancement of natural response to the color pink. It should entirely prevent any violent behavior. Add three entire days of emotional reinforcement, especially sensitivity to peer pressure. I will not have the other Birdies threatened by some unhinged magistrate’s sense of upbringing.
Wow, I...That’s fucked.
I got summoned to the Principal’s desk, right, and...that bitch spouted, right to my fucking face, that I was a girl. She didn’t believe me at all ! Said that deep down I didn’t want to be a man or something. What the fuck is wrong with people ?
But, then, I...I got dragged to a room with computers and a dentist chair. They made me strip. Completely naked ! I lost my shit, of course, and tried to stop them, but damn these guards are good. I was forced to show this body. I wanted to die. But what happened next was worse. They shackled me to the chair, put a helmet with a screen and headphones on my head. I couldn’t even move my head an inch, and my eyes were kept wide open. I felt being injected with something and I went completely limp. Then they put an IV drip in my arm and I felt lightheaded.
After that, it was like a dream. I don’t know how much time had passed, but it felt like forever, man. There was...a lot of pink, of warmth...Like I was in the clouds. And it felt...girly.
And now, they’ve transferred me to a new cell. The wall are stark pink. And...I don’t know how it’s possible, but...just seeing that color calms me down. They’ve...hacked me, man. I tried to get geared up, for busting out of here, for a workout, for plain shouting...but as soon as I see that fucking color, bam, calm. This is beyond bullshit. They want to turn me into one of those floozies. I can’t let that happen, man. Tomorrow, they say, I’ll join my new “class”. I don’t want to fall asleep. I don’t want to wake up and realize I’ll have to spend another fucking day with those airheads.
Even thinking about them makes me want to puke. But the idea that I could...become one of them. No way. No way. No way. No way.
Principal Rivers’ analysis—Shock value should do wonders tomorrow. Put emphasis on the makeover weekly event. Put her in a group of three. Then remove her emotional control in the evening before the curfew.
I want to wake up.
This is beyond horrible.
Today was my first official day as a Birdie. I tried to walk in looking macho, to make perfectly clear to the idiots that I wouldn’t take any of their shit. You know, intimidate them. Or at least get some respect as a man.
Instead, I was greeted by a surprise party. All thirteen Birdies screaming “Welcome Alex !” and pelting me with hugs and butterfly kisses. I was overwhelmed. It’s like I didn’t want to—couldn’t—disappoint them. Plus, they were all wearing pink...I did try to explain I was a man psychologically, but I didn’t sound confident at all, and they dismissed it. They just...talked to me, in turn, for hours, about how great this place is and how lucky I was to be treated by someone as wonderful as Grace Rivers. Just disgusting. And yet, I couldn’t manage to shut them up. Every single one of them is stoked to be here.
But my nightmare was just beginning. A teacher came, all giddy and shit, congratulating me for fitting in so easily. Yeah, right. Then she explained that every week, a fashion event was held. By groups of two or three, Birdies would present themselves all dolled up and make a mock fashion show. For that to happen, they would spend the whole week in the same collective cell and spend their evenings trying outfits and makeup provided by the staff.
And to celebrate my arrival, the birdies would have the day off, to spend the remainder of the day doing just that.
So here I am now. Instead of a cushy individual cell, I’m in a big cell for three people with an extensive wardrobe and vanity table. I am with two Birdies named Daisy and Mimy, and they are trying on clothes.
And they’re playing “Girls just wanna have fun” on a radio.
I want to die.
Oh no, no, shit, I think they want to
...give me a makeover. They did to me things I avoided the best I could my entire life. For now, they’re back to enjoying themselves. At least they give me some breathing room...In the mirror, I look like a completely different person. Like...A chick. Makeup. Not enough to make me look like a fucking trollop, thank God, but...makeup nonetheless. My square hair is now round and shiny with bangs in front of my face. And the clothes...I look like a fashionista, with a small scarf, a t-shirt with an oblique neckline and a fitting form that exposes my...my...bumps.
Have I lost muscle mass ? Nobody would believe I’m a man like this...I...I really look like a damn chick.
Now there’s guards. They say I have another “therapy” session. Given what the previous one has done to me, I tell them to go fuck themselves. But they show me a bright pink card and I calm down. Again. They gave me the time to go to the toilet, which is where I’m writing this. But I’m fucked. I know I’m fucked. With just a color, they control me.
Principal Rivers’ analysis : Removal of emotional control achieved the desired results. She was too overwhelmed to even write into her diary. I’ll supervise tomorrow’s session. We have to work fast and hard with this girl.
They turned me into a crybaby.
Seriously, I got into the machine, and when I came out, I was...unable to resist crying. The misery of my situation came crashing down on me. Being betrayed by that fucking white-haired shrink, told I would be turned into a giggling floozy like the others. The humiliation I felt at being controlled by a simple fucking color, and those clothes...I just bawled. Try as I could to man the hell up, it didn’t happen. I dwelled on my vulnerability. Years of manliness, of hormonal treatment...And here I was. Just crying. Getting consoled by Daisy and Mimy. And I couldn’t even lash out on them—how is that their fault ? They were changed too.
Plus, they were actually nice understanding. No contempt, no mockery, just...
“We’re here for you if you want to talk, okay ? We’ll let you alone. We know how this feels.”
“It’s so fucking unfair...I just wanted that pig to get the hell off me. sniffile And now they want to take my pride, my whole gender away...sniffile I hate this place, I want to go hooomme...”
Daisy soberly waited for me to calm down a bit before mentioning the shower.
“We have special showers in the collective cells. They’re like spa booths, it’s awesome !”
“Snurfle Yeah ?”
“It cheered me up every day of my first weeks here, you should really try it !”
But I was in this weird type of mood where you both want to cheer up and keep being sad at the same time. So I waited until my cellmates called it a day and started themselves writing in their diaries before going.
And it did feel awesome. It was a newfangled shower with two vertical beams on the sides spraying the hot water. It even emitted some kind of perfume and relaxation music. Cheesy, yes, but after crying all the tears my body held up for so many years, I was completely spent on anger. I just let myself drift in this incredible sensation, and smiled.
After that, I was on a happy cloud. Crying really does relieve you, I guess. Anyway, I went to sleep shortly after that.
Which brings me to today.
I felt mostly calm. I still knew I was in a humiliating position, that I was in the clutches of callous people manipulating my mind. But my feelings were like “yeah, we dealt with that shit yesterday, we’re over it now”. So, still watched closely by the staff, I went to the day’s activities.
We had an art class. And by “class” I mean “Do whatever art form you’re the best at while you gossip with your inmates”. We could draw, paint, do pottery, and the teachers just came to give us advice. I never really did any of those things but I decided to give drawing a shot. At least I could give my mind an escape. Turns out I wasn’t so bad for a newbie.
But most of the day, we were left in a free area, free as in watched by the staff but out of our cells, with not much else to do but chat. Which, given how dense the girls are here, meant giggling a lot about the newspapers and books they gave us. There was also a television, but it was small and you had to get on a sofa, squeezed along with at least three other birdies. As you imagine, given their bubbliness, this implied getting real intimate, and, well, I’m not a man at heart without having a penchant for the ladies.
So yeah, having to snuggle with a bunch of hot idiots while looking like a girl wasn’t SO bad...Though it was bad.
But now, it’s the evening. The creeping dread of being a man at heart captive in a temple of vapid femininity became the sheer terror of knowing I was about to lose a little more of myself. The relative calm had come to an end. The staff are no longer assholes, they’re monsters. I am watching Daisy and Mimy’s fashion show with a sharp pinch in my heart. I know they’re coming. And they’re just laughing, dressing up like it’s the best thing in the world. Tomorrow, I’ll be a little more like them.
I have to resist this time. But I’m not feeling strong at all. I am afraid. I’m chicken.
Active therapy tape № 119-1-1
Patient : Alex Robinson
Alex seemed confused when she saw Rivers waiting for her in the brainwashing room. But she quickly settled on which emotion she would make apparent.
“You...You bitch ! You turned me into a crybaby and a coward ! What kind of therapist are you ?”
“Suppressing one’s emotions can be very damaging, Alex.” She replied with a tad warmer of an expression than usual. “And it is socially acceptable for girls to be very emotional.”
“To be irrational, airheaded idiots, you mean !”
“Interpret it as you will, Miss Robinson, but I can promise you this. You still cling to this illusory desire of masculinity, but Very soon, you’ll begin to feel like a girl. And it will be liberating.”
After a slew of insults, Alex was pacified by being presented a pink card. As the staff stripped her naked and put her on the chair, she began to cry. She clearly wanted to at least appear dignified, but she had lost all control over her emotions.
Once the helmet had been lowered on her head, Grace went to the staff members operating the system.
“Alright, standard intelligence reduction, IQ of 95 should suffice, but do dampen her ability to focus a bit further than normal. She really does have to stop dwelling on things.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The settings were adjusted, and various chemicals were pumped into Alex’s bloodstream, as the helmet displayed trance-inducing images. Nothing was really programmed into the poor convict this time, it was just to distract her from the dull headache the drugs would cause over the next few hours.
“Starting tomorrow, you can commence feminization.”
“Yes ma’am.”
I think they made me stupider this time.
Not stupid, but...I have a harder time thinking about stuff. I get dragged along the Birdies’ conversations. We had a book club today, on a pretty standard romance story. I tried to think about my situation, but I got pulled in the activity again and again. I can’t focus. I even doodled. The teachers didn’t mind. “We vary the activities but it’s alright if you want to keep practicing art.” They said. They even gave me a notepad. Alright, that I can get behind.
So yeah, I probably won’t write in the diary as much. Drawing helps keeping my mind away from sad thoughts, and I can still cry very easily when those come up.
Hmpf. Back from the “therapy” session. I have to write this down. The helmet displayed pretty things, like butterflies, kittens, ponies...little girl stuff. Of course, it made me angry and I struggled, but the background became pink. I calmed down. Then, the headphones started saying things I couldn’t understand. They were high pitched, tho. Like a bubbly happy Birdie’s voice. It was several voices at once, like two for each of my ears, going back and forth. It was, of course, and incomprehensible mess, but I couldn’t help but feel like my brain deciphered them behind the scenes. Like the voices were confusing my resistance by being gibberish and smuggling them to my subconscious, where their meaning seeped and made itself at home.
I know I have a feminine side, I mean, I am a girl biologically, but I always kept her under wraps. They’re feeding that buried side of me. They’ve really begun to make me change.
Shit, I’m crying again. I’m going take a shower.
Art class again. I really do like it. Maybe it’s because I’m an emotional wreck but happiness does come more easily. I don’t hate Daisy and Mimy. They’re always nice when we’re in our cell, and I don’t have to force smiling around them. Even when they’re dressing me up and combing my hair. The counterpart of crying at the slightest vexation, I guess.
Drawing isn’t the manliest of activities, sure, but at least I’m doing something worthwile. I’m practicing my sense of proportions. Still objects are all rights, but shadows and people are a whole other game.
Other than that, gossiping, watching TV, snuggling, and then practicing for the fashion show.
Same “therapy” as yesterday. I have this weird urge to doodle in my diary instead of my drawing notepad. I can still be masculine...right ? Even though my body has pretty much lost all its muscles...I look like a girl...But I am not one !
Oh my God.
The fashion show happened today. They even let us use a room with a theater curtain and a central platform. The guards even let us alone ! There was nobody in here but us Birdies. I guess I could have tried to escape, but they were no windows, and everyone was having so much fun, I couldn’t find the heart to do it. It wasn’t a competition at all, everyone had their moment of glory, and it went without saying that there wasn’t any winner over the others. The birdies are so ridiculously friendly, a teddy bear has more edge. At least the girls were gorgeous in their outfits.
Then came my turn. Daisy and Mimy, my friends, took me behind the curtain and dressed me up. Applied makeup. Gave me a cute haircut. Made me wear a lolita dress with a corset and a puffy skirt. I was appalled when I saw myself in the mirror. I looked so sickeningly girly.
Then I walked on the platform. And I saw the girls smiling and mouthing “wow”. The corset was killing my breath. The makeup felt heavy. I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Yet, with every step that got me closer to the audience, the more I focused instead on those smiles, those admirative eyes. I felt my legs quivering, my heart pumping. But it was nothing compared to what happened when one of them said...
“Lexie, you’re so cute !”
Just like I was unable to fight back against tears, the joy I felt took me by storm. I gasped, bringing my hands to my mouth. I felt possessed, a warm presence in my chest swelling and swelling, threatening to wash away my mind.
“Yeah, it totally suits you ! You see you can be cute !” Shouted another.
I knew everyone was praised during the show. But still, I felt special. And in a way I was. I was the new Birdie. The one that wasn’t cute at all on her first day. But now...I was just one of the girls. Parading in a lolita outfit, all dolled up, and fitting right in. It was a sense of accomplishment. Of belonging. Of...liberation.
Daisy and Mimy came with me, themselves in their show outfits, and they hugged me. I hugged them, too. The happiness I felt was out of control, I couldn’t stop myself from showering them with thanks for making me so pretty.
I realized the principal was right. For the first time in my life, I did something girly and...I loved it. I loved everything about that moment. Fuck...Fuck...Who am I ? Am I really a man or...was she right ? Were my parents lying to me ?
Interview tape № 119-2
Patient : Alex Robinson
“What can I do for you, Miss Robinson ?”
The young inmate drags her feet. Whereas her body language once displayed pride and energy, it now screams of confusion and defeat.
“How can you possibly get away with manipulating people like that ?” Said Alex with less confidence in her voice that she would have hoped.
“It’s quite simple I’m afraid. The state hired me. The country always was interested in mind control techniques. But sadly, the emergence of such technologies came into being in the private sector. The world looks like it always was, for now, but mark my words—Humanity, as a concept, will soon be subject to reevaluation. The state simply wishes to be a part of it.”
“What ? Are you saying other crazy people are altering minds ?!”
“Yes. And though I imagine it is no comfort to you, I am the only one who cares about my patients. And while we’re on the subject of care...”
Rivers put down her pen and smiled.
“You’re not actually here to protest, are you ?”
“I...Guess not...” Replied Alex in a broken voice. “I hate what you’re doing to me, but...yesterday...I felt so...”
She bowed her head down. It was hard to admit.
“Happy...”
“Happy enough to elicit a desire to meet me.”
“Yeah...Even now I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but...I never was so happy as a man. And even if it’s your machine’s fault, I can’t ignore it. Am...am I a man ? I don’t know anymore !”
Tears in her eyes, Alex looked at Rivers’ eyes.
“Could you at least stop putting me in that machine so I can figure it out ?”
“Miss Robinson...We both know you no longer have to “figure it out”.”
The silver-haired doctoress gets up, and walks to the poor, confused Alex.
“Yes, I have made you emotionally driven. I have opened your subconscious to the idea of letting your feminine side be. But you know that you are still very much yourself, and that no machine could fake what you experienced. You were recognized as a pretty girl. This went against everything you thought you knew about yourself. If you were indeed ready to become male, this would have disgusted you. And yet...”
“I felt liberated.”
“Yes. This is what you are. Not what you parents steered you towards believing you are.”
“I...I...”
“Yes...Accept it. You know you can’t keep up the masquerade.”
“I...am...a girl.”
Rivers bent down and delicately kissed Alex on the forehead.
“Yes, my dear. A very lovely girl.”
“So...” Gulped Alex. “What’s going to happen to me now, ma’am ?”
“We’re going to free you, of course. Reshape you into your true self. We have already begun, as you can surmise. Everything a Birdie eats is laced with feminine hormones. Not as much as the candies and dollies, but enough to make you feel young and girly.”
“But I’m not sure if I even know my true self.”
“I do” Warmly said the Principal. “I may be an expert in mind control, but I’m also a psychiatrist. You don’t merely long to be a girl, you long to be girly. The girliest girl.”
“No...It can’t be true !”
“But it is. You were imposed a role of responsability and initiative, but you’re at home in being a lovely flower whose only role is to have fun. Well, after a year here, this is what you’ll be.”
Grace began to turn around her, as if pondering her next move for a sculpture, as Alex began to blush.
“I’ll be just another Birdie...”
“Just ? Birdies are very well suited for the modern world. You might even say the best suited. They utterly dominate the social scene. They can frolic in the workplace with little achievement on their own and they will still be beloved and above criticism.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good thing...”
“It may not be, but that’s the way things are. Hard work and responsibility are often quoted as central values, but social skills really are the cornerstone of the modern world. So do not worry, Alex, the path you’re in will most definitely earn you freedom and a nice lot in life.”
Alex couldn’t help but feel a jolt of relief as her Principal sat on the desk.
“But for that, we’ll have to finish your transformation. Physically, we’ll make you shorter and give you more delicate features. Your breasts are seriously underdeveloped but we won’t go too far in the other direction. A nice, pert C cup at most.”
“B...Breasts...” Sighed Alex, absent mindedly.
“But the biggest change will of course be your mind. Starting tomorrow, we’ll make you like boys.”
“Can’t I...at least stay a lesbian ?”
“No, that wouldn’t exactly help you out there in the real world.”
“I...guess...”
“You are developping an interest in drawing. We’ll nurture that. You’ll be a sensitive, artistic type. And, of course, you’ll be extremely girly. Emotional. Full of mannerisms. But not a mean-spirited girl, no no. Friendly as can be. A chirping, doe-eyed sweetheart. Boys will fall for you at first sight, and every girl will be your best friend.”
Alex sweated bullets as Grace detailed the program. Sure, she had recused her virility out loud, but this...? Sure, she knew what a Birdie was, but told like that, in no uncertain terms, had an entirely different impact.
“I don’t want this...” She tentatively argued. “I want to be a normal girl, not a hyper girly one.”
“Last time you tried to tell me what you desired, I was right. People don’t know themselves, Alex, it’s why the world needs psychiatrists.”
Of course, it wasn’t entirely true in Grace’s case, but displaying a professional facade was effective in this particular context.
“You are going to be a Birdie, Alex, and you’re going to love it.”
“...Yes, Principal...” Muttered the young woman, defeated.
Principal Rivers’ Analysis :
As customary in the Birdie process, the diary isn’t of particular interest after the initial “breaking in” stage. Miss Robinson underwent an accelerated treatment to compensate for her initial gender dysphoria. However, it should be smooth sailing from here. She’s too confused to resist suggestion, and in fact should already percieve the full Birdie treatment as a shameful fantasy.
From here, talk therapy augmented with brainwashing sessions will be used. Schedule an appointment after making her heterosexual, enhancing her taste for drawing, and slightly decreasing her intelligence. Of course, continue feminization in conjunction.
Do, however, give her a cyan pen and change every prior writing in her diary to that color.
So it is set.
I am, without a doubt, going to be feminized. The Principal even made me say I was a girl in front of her. She said she would turn me super girly. I am doomed to become just one of the birdies. Just a giggling idiot with no ambitions in life besides being cute.
But even though my mind swarms with reasons to hate it, my heart is just confused. Shouldn’t I be crying right now ? But no...I don’t feel happy, but I don’t feel sad either. What is it ? I can’t find the words, but it’s a bit like saying “Well, I guess I’ll see what happens.”
I’ve already lost my manhood. I couldn’t defend it, so it leaves me with this girl’s body. Who would I have been if my parents had been fine with raising a girl ? Would I have grown into a Birdie anyway ? Is it how I am meant to be ?
They’re going to make me gay. Or straight, I guess. To make me like boys. I don’t even know what girls find hot about boys. If I really am a girl, I feel like I should be a lesbian. But...is that a lie too ? Do I secretely like boys ? I don’t know who I am anymore. How can I resist being turned into a dainty doll if I don’t know who I am ?
Oh, the staff is here. It’s time for another piece of myself to vanish.
Feel funny. Today was different. Very drugged. They walk me to here after the machine. Felt weeeiiird. Lots of pink and porn. They say they heavily target subconscious, made change a lot. Sleepy...
I don’t remember what happened yesterday to make me write so silly, but I feel different this morning. When I got into the shower, I sang a bit. Cutely. Oh, I just drew a flower on my diary. Had the color always been this cute ? I guess it has...Aah, isn’t it sad that there’s only girls here ? What ? Ohmigawd, I just thought about a boy and...I blushed.
Is that how it feels to be a straight girl ? It’s so weird...Why does it feel so right ?
Interview tape № 119-3
Patient : Alex Robinson
“Wow, principal, I can’t believe how much better I feel ! After the last time I saw you, I felt afraid, but when I went back to the Birdies after that, like, that fear washed away ! They’re all happy, after all, aren’t they ?”
“Of course they are. How is your sexuality coming along ?”
Alex blushed.
“Oh, I can’t believe I missed on that all those years. Boys are so handsome ! My new cellmate, Dani, has her diary fuuull of photo cutouts from this actor guy, and I ended up all swept up in her fantasies ! I can’t believe I swooned over a boy, and it felt soo right !”
“Of course, since this is the real you. Now, forgive me but we have to talk about a more...Difficult topic.”
“Oh...Yes...It’s about...my crime, isn’t it ?”
“Yes, Alex. We can’t forget the reason you’re here. You were boasting about how you didn’t regret killing the man who tried to rape you. But it is not true, is it ?”
Tears flowed on the Birdie’s cheeks.
“Of course not. I was so enraged, I ruined my life. I should have just defended myself, but no, I had to go that far...I’m unforgivable...huuuh...”
“Your reaction made sense from a psychological standpoint. It was an assault on your very sense of being. Of course you were going to lose all your judgment.”
“Still...That guy was an asshole, but I killed someone. I took a life...He should just have gone to prison...”
“What you did affects you deeply, and it’s normal. But the new you will be happy and carefree. We need to erase it.”
“Erase it...?” Confusedly asked Alex.
“Yes. I can make you forget it. You don’t have to carry that burden.”
The convict remained silent. Sure, it was a terrible thing to remember...But didn’t she had to face it, instead of running away from it ? Take responsibility ?
As she had that last thought, her father’s face surfaced in her mind. He was always harping about responsibility. Forcing her to become a man. But now, Alex knew she wanted to be a girl. A carefree girl. A Birdie.
“Yes, Principal...Please make me forget it.”
“Good girl.”
Principal Rivers’ Analysis :
She’s accepting the transformation. Run standard Birdie memory erasure. Upon completion, change her diary to include new name : Phoebe.
Interview tape № 119-3
Patient : Alex Robinson
Instead of the usual office, Grace was now meeting with the former “man” in another, more casual room. Its wallpaper was pink and they were seated on cushy sofas. The mind controller was reading the notepad her patient had given her.
“That’s beautiful. You do have the makings of a great artist, Phoebe.”
“Thanks Principal !” Squealed the girl, joining her hands together. “I’m having so much fun practicing ! But...”
“But ?”
“My name’s Alex...You know that, right ?”
“What are you talking about ? Alex isn’t a cute name, Phoebe suits you much better. You are a cute girl, aren’t you ?”
“Yay ! I got praised at the fashion show again yesterday ! I was sooo cute ! Huh...What was I talking about again ?”
“Your name.”
“Oh, right ! Huh...Phoebe ? Alex ? I’m not sure...”
“You are Phoebe.”
“But I remember Alex, Principal...”
“What you remember is from your past life. You were unhappy, and a criminal. We are reshaping you into a Birdie, and this Birdie is called Phoebe.”
“My past life...”
The young woman tried to focus, but whatever she found didn’t hold a lot of weight compared to the notepad on the table. She wanted to draw !
“I don’t remember it...And it feels like I don’t even care ! It’s...Wrong, isn’t it ? It’s my life, it’s important...”
The silver-haired woman gently took her in her arms and carressed her growing breasts through the uniform.
“No, Phoebe. It’s not important to you. You do not have to care about a past. You’re a Birdie. A lovely little scatterbrain. You trust me, do you not ?”
“I...trust you, Principal. You made me happy and girly.”
“Boys will like you better if your name is cute like Phoebe.”
“Boys...” Sighed the young convict, blushing.
“We are turning you into a little doll, without a past, without ambition, without responsibilities. Do you resent it ?”
“I...kinda want to be normal, Principal.”
“But you cannot resist. You’re already an airhead. We have all power over you. But it’s okay, because you trust us.”
“Trust...”
“Don’t think. Forget. Become girlier. That’s all there is for you to do. Just become a doll, nice and easy, and feel all your pains melt away.”
“Principal...”
Now in a trance, Alex/Phoebe listened to her nice Principal’s sweet nothings, finding it too hard and boring to cling on the important stuff. She could hear what her tutor was saying. “You love it here” or “you want to let go”. But she just let their meaning fly through her conscious mind and deep within her subconscious, just like the machine’s voice. She had grown to love that feeling, not quite understanding the words but knowing they were making her girlier and happier. They were like warm blankets for her mind, and without them, she felt cold and naked. She knew Rivers was right. Her desire for the changes now far outweighed the urge to resist and stay herself. Not only did she like what she was becoming, she now liked the change itself. Trusting her Principal. Letting go. Sinking deeper and deeper into pure happiness.
Still...
“I’m not a doll, Principal...I’m human...Being a doll is bad.”
“A doll is a human girl that is so girly...so happy...” Rivers continued whispering, undeterred by her victim’s weakening attempts at resistance. “...so silly. You are a silly girl, Phoebe...You want to play, don’t you ? You want to keep drawing and laughing...”
“I...I want to play...”
“Dolls can play all the time. Just be silly and listen to what you’re told. You want to be a doll. You already are a doll.”
“Yes Principal...A doll...”
Phoebe’s diary—14th september
I changed roommates again ! Now I’m with both Mimy and Dani ! Say hi girls !—Hi !—Wow, Phoebe’s diary’s so cute with all the little flowers !—See diary, I can let my friends write in you now ! Mrs.Feelgood—that’s how I call the machine now—taught me a Birdie doesn’t have any secrets ! We share everything ! So cool ! Well, I know privacy’s important, so share-everything status is only okay if it’s agreed. And we did agree !
So anyway. I’m really really getting good at drawing. I can do people now. So cool ! I wonder if I can be an artist when I get out ? Or maybe a fashion designer ! I love fashion ! By the way, I should get ready for the rehearsals ! Bye-bye diary !
Principal Rivers’ analysis : Her complete surrender to binaural programming is quite remarkable. At this rate, she should be done with the usual programming by the end of the month.
Interview tape № 119-3
Patient : Alex Robinson
“Do you feel manly, Phoebe ?”
“Hehehehe, as if ! I love cute boys, but being one ? No way !”
The bubbly girl twirled in the middle of the room, for no particular reason save a flight of fancy.
“Then I want you to do something for me.”
“What is it, Principal ?”
“From now on, whenever you are not doing something, you should always put your hands behind your back.”
“Oh ! Like this ?” Phoebe said while obeying.
“Yes. Doesn’t it make you feel girly ?”
“It does ! I L-O-V-E it ! You always have such great ideas, Principal !”
The lovely Birdie waved her perky chest around and pranced around a bit.
“I’m glad you like your therapy, Phoebe. Come here.”
After interrogatively cocking her head to the side, the cutie walked to Grace. To her surprise, the mind controller softly grabbed her shoulders and gave her a sensual kiss. Phoebe blushed crimson red.
“P-P-P-Principal ? I like boys !”
“Of course you do, you’re a girl. But don’t you love brushing your roommates’ hair, or hugging them tight ?”
“I...suppose ?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about sexuality, my little scatterbrained doll. Girls are soft, gentle and cuddly. It’s alright if they want to kiss. It’s cute.”
“Oh, I see !”
“You’re still straight. You still want to find a boy you love, marry him, and be happy forever. But it’s natural for girls to kiss. And boys love it.”
“If boys love it, then I’ll be sure to do it ! Hehehe !”
Falling completely for Rivers’ argument, Phoebe closed her eyes and kissed her, moaning softly.
Principal Rivers’ analysis : It’s almost scary how pliable she is. Mind control subjects usually retain some level of resistance even after they’ve been successfully restructured. Phoebe, meanwhile, is just longing for more...It’s probably an extreme case of psychological elasticity. The more you resist, the more dramatic the surrender will be. Still, there isn’t many elements left to program her with...She’s a proper Birdie now.
Reinforce her bisexuality, and give her a bit of Dolly conditionning, specifically the part to make the patients fall in love with me. After that...there won’t be anything left to program her with. I know it is not standard, but try to restore her ability to resist.
Interview tape № 119-6
Patient : Alex Robinson
“Hi Principal ! I’ve M-I-S-S-E-D you ! Tee-hee !”
“Come here, sweetheart.”
Phoebe strutted daintily to her beloved Principal, her hands up to her shoulder’s level, swinging side to side. She then hopped into Grace’s open arms and kissed her. Phoebe loved kissing girls. She mainly wanted boys, of course, but then again girls were so soft and smelled so nice ! Principal Rivers was special, of course. She was the nice woman that made her so girly, silly and happy. She absolutely revered her Principal for that. Why wouldn’t she love the person that made her who she was ?
“I’d like to ask you a few questions, my dear Phoebe. Don’t be afraid, just answer the best you can. Are you ready !”
“Of course, Principal ! Tee-hee !”
“Do you remember coming here believing yourself to be a man ?”
“Nu-huh ! I don’t remember anything before here but I know there’s no way I’d believe that ! Cos I’m the girliest girl ever ! That’s the easy one, right Principal ?”
“Yes, it is. What’s your dream in life ?
“Become an artist ! I want to draw pretty love stories with heaps of cute clothes ! And be in love stories too ! I wanna find my prince ! I’ll love him F-O-R-E-V-E-R ! He he he he !”
Phoebe was blushing heavily, and she held her cheeks, her eyes closed, deep in her girly fantasies.
“Are you ready to do anything for me ?”
“Of course I am !” Phoebe answered, without a trace of hesitation.
“Then make sure to take to heart what I’m about to say : I want you to resist the next round of brainwashing. We are not going to inject you any drugs, and we are going to set the binaural to a level only an amateur content with scamming people would willingly impose upon the world. Simply put, no living soul would reasonably let itself be modified. I give you this order : Do not, under any circumstances, accept what the machine is going to tell you. Do you understand, Phoebe ?”
“I do, Principal !”
Interview tape № 119-6
Patient : Alex Robinson
“Phoebe, do you remember what I asked you yesterday ?”
“Yes Principal ! That I can’t let myself be modified by Mrs.Feelgood !”
“Alright. The “program” we subjected you to was utterly ludicrous. It aimed to teach you a false answer to a simple logical problem.”
“I hope I pleased you, Principal !”
“We’ll see. One plus one equals...?”
Phoebe smiled brightly. She knew this one !
“Purple !”
“Impressive.” Dryly commented Rivers. “You didn’t show any trace of resistance to an aggressively impossible suggestion.”
“What’s impossible, Principal ?”
“You are, in a manner of speaking. You have lost all ability to resist mind control, which is quite fascinating from a research standpoint, but very problematic for the normal life you have to eventually return to.”
Phoebe cocked her head to the side, puzzled.
“Being with my BFFs is normal !”
“For now, but eventually you’ll have to go back out there, live as an artist and find love.”
“Oh...yeah, I guess that’s true ?”
“And you can’t do that if you keep having no willpower whatsoever.”
“What’s wrong with having no willpower ? It makes me G-I-R-L-Y ! Tee-hee !”
“It’s part of the journey, but certainly not the destination...” Sighed Grace, a tad irked by what Phoebe implied. “Listen. You still have a lot of time here. Be a good Birdie, live your friends, just relax and follow the art classes. Maybe your willpower will be restored after a period without any conditioning.”
“Okie dokie !”
Excerpts from the paper “Patient 119—Dramatic cognitive tolerance or excessive restructuring ?” Presented at the annual mind control symposium by Doctor Grace Rivers
The tipping point between the resistance and the acceptance phases has always been elusive, thoroughly variable from patient to patient, and common to almost all technological methods, save for temporary methods like active neural bypassing. It is generally caracterized by the patient overcoming her dread of the treatment, be it in an positive (acceptance) or negative fashion (apathy).
However, this tipping point is always met with a reversal later on. For once the patient has lost her sense of self, it follows that she must regain it once the desired personality is set. It is the ultimate goal of all mind restructuring procedures, save for the incomplete one of mind-wiping.
Patient 119, however, months after the finalization of the desired persona, is still in the rebuilding phase, and despite efforts to restore it, has not yet regained cognitive inertia. We are unsure at the moment if the cause is inherent to patient 119 or if we used excessively agressive processing. Although if this was the case, I scarcely understand how Carlyle and Harkönnen haven’t reported such cases yet.
The most likely explanation at the time of writing is that Patient 119 suffered from acute, socially onset gender dysphoria. Thoughts of being masculine had been externally imposed, and thus could have led to her brain developping a latent rejection of mind control techniques. Or in layman’s terms, she had already seen too much by the time we changed her, and her mind gave up cognitive inertia altogether.
Despite fascinating implications for our field, the case of patient 119 is much too uncertain right now to assert any kind of definitive conclusion. Plus, the patient’s well being is in great jeopardy and should take priority over research.
Interview tape № 119-14
Patient : Alex Robinson
“How is Athena doing, Phoebe ?”
“She’s great ! Really friendly, can she be a Birdie too ?”
“We are still deliberating, sweetheart. But I’m happy to know she’s being friendly with you all.”
“Me too ! Hee hee !”
“Now...”
Grace carressed Phoebe’s soft hair.
“Your time in the machine yesterday was to test if your willpower was back.”
“And ? And ?”
“It’s not. Neither active attempts at restoring it or letting your mind heal over time have been successful. To the best of my knowledge, it appears impossible to repair. If we did send you back to the outside world, you could be seduced by virtually anyone, persuaded to believe anything. To become anything.”
The implications of what she believed was a benediction began to sink in Phoebe’s mind.
“You mean...People could make me believe I’m not me ? Turn me into a bad girl ?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“But...” She cried. “I like who I am...A silly, girly doll...”
“A broken doll, unfortunately. But do not worry. I have made my decision. I will ensure you live happily.”
“Can you ?” Phoebe yelped, eyes full of admiration.
“Yes. I’ll put you into permanent observation. I’ll turn you into my daughter.”
Phoebe gulped. What did her wonderful Principal mean ?
“You’re puzzled. I understand. Let me tell you something about myself.”
Grace opened a cupboard and took out a picture. It showed her sitting in a large, luxurious sofa, in the company of three young women, more or less in Phoebe’s age range. They all had silver hair.
“I am infertile. Not a day goes by that I do not curse my genes for that. Why must I pay for being the scion of an inbred family ? I have fled my native country in shame, coming to America to study psychology. I had one and only one goal. Learning how to change a mind. If nature couldn’t give me my right to a loving daughter, then I would create one. And I did. I abducted a young woman and turned her into my little girl. In just three days, she firmly believed her past life was a lie to keep her away from me. Then, when two hikers sought refuge in my secluded manor, I turned them as well. They looked nothing alike at the time, but they came to believe they always were sisters.”
“Wow...And...You want me too ?”
“Yes. You are a very cute girl, and you need a stable environment. You’ll be the first of my dearests who actually needs the conversion.”
“But...” Said Phoebe, blushing. “I don’t have your beautiful hair...”
“Don’t worry”, reassured Grace with a smile. “I have bought a special mutagen from a company called BioHack. Your change will be smooth and painless.”
Phoebe pranced around. Some part of her realized how weird this arrangement was, but for the most part, she had only love for her Principal. In fact, she followed her heart and threw herself in Grace’s arms, reaching for her lips. To her suprise, she was thrown back. The silver-haired woman smiled.
“Sorry, honey, but you can’t kiss me anymore. You will become my daughter, and incest is out of the question. We are a respectable family.”
“Oh...I understand. Sorry, Principal.”
“No, no, this isn’t the right way to call me. But don’t worry, the machine will teach you.”
Though there was no need to use the machine’s full power on poor Phoebe, Rivers ordered for it to be used properly. The girly girl was drugged, strapped down, and invaded with two dildos and suctions cups. She liked the machine, and she was happy to meet her for the second time in a week after so many months without it. But even she was anxious at the idea of becoming someone else entirely. She didn’t hate the idea of becoming her Principal’s daughter...But it was so strange ! And would it mean she would have to leave her BFFs ? Or give up on cute boys ? Why did she have to lose all of her willpower ? A single tear formed in her right eye as the program began.
A chorus of sentences began to chant. All of these were spoken in her own voice, in a low, seductive whisper. She couldn’t understand them, but as always, their meaning embedded themselves in her subconscious.
“My name is Phoebe Rivers.”
“My mother is Grace Rivers”
“My hair is white.”
“I have three sisters and I’m the second youngest.”
“Grace isn’t my Principal. She’s my Mommy.”
At regular intervals, the machine would audibly ask her questions. “Who are you ? Who is your mother ? What color is your hair ? How many sisters do you have ? Phoebe answered naturally. “I’m Phoebe. I don’t remember. Brown. None.” But she was answered with a painful jolt of electricity. She didn’t understand, she had told the truth ! But as time went on, and though she kept answering honestly, the constant barrage of information reshaping her thoughts coupled with the confusion of being punished for telling what she knew weakened her resolve. Each time, her hesitation was stronger. Until fear began to constrict her heart. Who was she ? She had a mother, didn’t she ? Why would a girl not remember her mother ? If her hair wasn’t brown, then what was it ? The correct answers came to her progressively. A vague impression at first, words on the tip of her tongue. Mrs. Rivers was a very important figure for her, so important...The most important.
“She’s my Mommy.” She whispered in a daze.
The machine immediately rewarded her with pleasure. Grace’s voice filled her world, carressing her thoughts with infinite warmth. “Yes, that’s my good girl.” Mommy’s voice ! How could she have forgotten ? She felt silly.
Once its victim had made the proper association, the machine commenced her second phase : teaching her how to be a good daughter. Pictures of a room filled with dolls and pictures of famous boys on the walls flashed before her eyes as her own voice once again taught her.
“Mommy is always right.”
“I am a very obedient girl.”
“I look up to my big sisters.”
“I love playing with my little sister.”
“I can’t date a boy until Mommy approves.”
“I don’t ever want to leave Mommy.”
“I’m proud of my white hair.”
“I want to be pretty.”
“I’m afraid of being without my Mommy.”
“I’m afraid of being without my sisters.”
“I’m a crybaby.”
“Whatever Mommy says is the truth.”
“A good girl says “Yes, Mommy”.”
“I want to hear Mommy say I’m a good girl.”
Over the course of hours, those new truths sinked in, and what one day had been Alex was reshaped, transformed into an utterly dependant little girl in an adult’s body. She couldn’t fathom living without her mother or sisters. When the machine presented her with a scene wherein she was alone in the middle of the street, Phoebe panicked, looked for her family in the video, and when she couldn’t find them, bawled like a baby.
When she was deemed sufficiently dependant, the machine began its final work—implanting Phoebe with manufactured memories. In a dream-like state, she relieved her childhood with her family. Opening Christmas presents. Going on vacation. Getting scolded. Playing with her baby sister Zoey. Memory by memory, her new existence was completed.
Interview tape № 119-15
Patient : Alex Robinson
Phoebe Rivers was afraid. She had been left into an empty room by some women. She didn’t understand. Ever since she had woken up, nothing was right. She felt lonely and vulnerable. The room was cold. She began to cry. Plus, the mirror on the wall, to her left, was lying. Why didn’t she have beautiful white hair ? This brown was ugly.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Phoebe gasped in joy.
“Mommy !!”
She bolted out of her chair and went to hug her dear mother. Tears still flowed down her cheeks, but those were of joy. She pressed her head against Mommy’s soft bosom, feeling relief and comfort, feeling at home.
“My, such a sweet little doll. Do you want so tell me something ?”
“Yes ! Yes Mommy ! I love you sooo much, please don’t leave me alone again !” Cried Phoebe in a mix of euphoria and desperation. She really didn’t know if she could go through any length of time without her Mommy.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’ve just sent Athena to the Dollies. Now I have time for you.”
“Oh, thank you thank you !”
“Don’t thank me until you’ve opened this, sweetie !”
Grace took a rectangular-shaped object. It was a gift. Phoebe’s heart pounded like crazy.
“A...A present, Mommy ?”
“Yes. You’ve been such a good girl.”
“Oh-hem-geeeee ! Mommy loves me ! I’m soooo H-A-P-P-Y !”
The young brainwashed girl opened her present. It was a beautiful, leather-lined diary with a little lock.
“This is your new Diary, Phoebe. It’s Mommy’s reward for going through the Birdie course for me. I know it has been a hard time without your sisters.”
“A...Anything for you, Mommy ! Thankyouthankyouthankyou !”
“Tonight, we go home together. Your sisters have missed you.”
“I’ve missed them too ! I wanna play with Zoey again !”
“That’s my good girl.” Said Grace, ruffling her daughter’s hair.
“H...H...Hey, Mommy ?” Stammered Phoebe, suddenly worried. “Why do I have brown hair ?”
Grace laughed, and lead her to the mirror.
“Come on, you know that. You had to pretend you were some random girl to your Birdie friends. If they saw your white hair, they would have known you were my daughter.”
“Oh...Makes sense...” Gasped Phoebe, totally convinced.
“You just had it colored. Look closer, you can see the roots. They’re white, aren’t they ?”
Phoebe parted her hair with her hands, and looked in the mirror. It was true. Beneath the unsightly brown color, her natural color could be seen. Her silvery white hair. Proof she was born from her mother.
“They are ! Oh, I’m so relieved...”
“See ? Nothing to worry your silly head about. Now come. I still have work to do, but if you promise to be a good girl and write in your new diary in silence while Mommy works, you can stay in my office.”
The young inmate looked at her mother. Her eyes reflecting nothing but pure devotion. She had been asked to be a good girl, and nothing was more important to Phoebe than pleasing her mother. It was with all her heart that she said, in her high-pitched, breathy voice...
“I promise, Mommy !”
Principal Rivers’ analysis—Close Alex Robinson’s file. Erase all public records. Phoebe already has a new official birth certificate. If her former father ever tracks down this facility, contact me at once. I won’t let him threaten my little girl.