WHOOSH. You duck and cover your head as a car passes by the creek... followed by another... and another.
They really scrambled all their staff just to find you, didn't they? Maybe they really do care about you. If this was a prison there would have been walls, or watchtowers with rifles, or bloodthirsty attack dogs, or... actual physical threats of any kind. The most injury you've suffered today was sore muscles and minor scrapes from all this running. It feels like you've made a huge production out of skipping school, and really they DID shelter you when nobody else could. Hell, they didn't even ask for your ID, they KNOW you're transformed and tolerate it. Maybe...
Maybe you should just apologize. Head on home- well, head on back to the school- and explain that you're just scared. You're a kid, right? Or at least you resemble one? Just act cute and they'll show some mercy.
After a few deep breaths, you turn around and crawl back to the academy. Literally, in this case; your face is flushed with embarrassment and you can't imagine trying to explain yourself to the rescue party. You move like a hot, sweaty, exhausted mouse under the shade of the trees. As you get closer to the end of the road, the leaves begin to rustle as a breeze pierces the thinning tree line, giving you a brief feeling of relief.
You approach the front door of the school for the second time in your life... but it feels wrong. No, you can't just walk in the front door as if nothing is wrong, not after THAT. You need a side path, something that lets you sneak in with a minimum of fuss. But then it hits you- they sent at least three cars to look for you, maybe more. The garage is going to be empty and... what do you know, it's open! Like a gremlin in a Japanese student's swimsuit, you scramble into the dark of the school's staff area.
The bare concrete foundation causes your feet to ache, reminding you of all the rough rocks you've been marching over today. The stuffy, antique nature of the school is nearly invisible in this dusty and gasoline-scented garage. Even just standing near something as mundane as auto repair tools and spare parts is helping you feel masculine again, if only for a moment. What stands out to the most, however, is the single black van that's still in the garage. You could have sworn they sent the whole fleet after you, what gives? Your curiosity gets the better of you, you HAVE to see what's in there. You yank on the back door of the van...
"Uh... guys?"
You can't help but stare quietly at the surreal picture inside the van. Five of the six seats in the back are occupied by kids from the school, but they're barely recognizable in this state. Their uniforms are gone, even the underwear, their torsos naked and goose-bumped in the cool air of the garage. Despite your best attempts to not stare, a few glints of shiny steel draw your eye to... chastity cages, two of the five. Boys, like you.
Wait, no, not boys. Transformed adults like you.
They're not totally naked. Stockings and gloves with pink and white zebra stripes cover their legs and arms, thick cotton pressing against seat cushions and a rubber-treaded floor. On each of their necks, each of them is wearing a close-fitting black leather choker with a brass tag on the front. Looking closer, there are no names or contact info, only a serial number and a questionable-looking double heart logo. Each of them is wearing a neon pink wig with a short bob cut and a hair clip bearing the same double hearts, colored sky blue and ballet pink. When you brush their faux har back, you see a pair of thick black earplugs deafening them. Strangest of all are their faces, or the lack thereof. White plastic masks cover their faces with uncanny moulds of eyes, noses and lips like a timeworn Roman statue. You tug on one of the masks, but despite the lack of visible straps you can't even budge it.
"Guys?" Snap, snap. "GUYS?" No response. You grab one of them by the shoulders and shake. No response.
So this is the hospitality they show transformed adults. They're put under some sort of spell and carted off to parts unknown! Probably sold, even! Thinking about their uniforms, you feel the fear setting in once more as you contemplate what these transformation victims are being sold for. No IDs either, nobody will know they're gone because they aren't people who existed in the first place! Your breath catches in your throat as you realize- this is what would have happened to you. This is your destiny, and you walked right back into it like an IDIOT. Your life before you're caught, hypnotized and enslaved can probably be measured in minutes.
...But what if you could skip the hypnotism part? You have no ability to fight back against a large group of adults and no way to hide in a place the staff know better than you, and driving the van would require being at least thirty centimeters taller. You're locked down pretty tight, but wherever these TF victims are being shipped might have much lighter security. They're all mesmerized after all, nobody is assuming they're going to make a run for it. All you have to do is get in... "uniform"... take the unoccupied seat, and be carted off to freedom with a few extra steps. This might be the same kind of bad idea which caused you to get transformed by the donkey costume, or even the same kind of bad idea that got you lost in the woods weeks ago, but you have to try...
You open up the double doors in the garage and sneak into the cargo bay. Your heart seizes as you see eighteen more students brainlessly standing at attention, masked and costumed exactly the same. Three vans worth... that checks out. Thankfully they don't seem to notice you, much less attempt to rat you out. Stepping between the doomed slaves like landmines, you make your way to the bin where their "proper" school uniforms have been dumped.
"I'll figure something out, guys. I swear." They probably can't hear you, but it feels better to make the promise regardless. You peel the damp swimsuit off of your body and drop it in the bin, followed by the goggles and cap. There's an open janitorial washing station in the cargo bay; your take a moment to rinse your feet off, hoping the creaking of the pipes doesn't give you away. Unable to delay your terrible plan any further, you unwrap one of the clear vinyl packages with the pre-assembled male slave uniforms and take a look...
The stockings go on immediately. Your feet are killing you after hours of forced marching, and having literally anything protecting your toes is a massive relief. Elastic bands at the tops of the stockings snap tight around your thighs, dimpling your flesh. The dense cotton is plush against your skin, soft like a towel before it's been worn thin by endless washing. Curiously padding around in a small circle reveals that your footsteps are totally silent with these things on. The shoulder-length gloves are built the same way, so thick they actually take a moment to get used to. Already you feel much more comfortable than you were expecting something like this to be. Your morale improves as you dig around in the bundle.
"What's... oh no." Your hands wrap around a pre-lubricated butt plug, seamless hard plastic shining under the fluorescent lighting. It takes only a glance back at the zombies behind you to notice that the female students have their own equivalents installed; trying really hard not to look at everyone's crotches made you miss a few details before. Inhaling deeply, you grit your teeth and shove the damned thing right into yourself! A whine escapes your lips as sharp pain wracks your frame- this is the opposite of how this part of your body is supposed to work, after all. With the plug all the way in, the hard plastic bumps something deep in your body which makes your chastity cage TWITCH. A blush forms on your face as something down there swells until it hits a stainless steel wall, pulsing along with your heartbeat. Throb, throb.
The sheer anxiety of the situation is making you shake as you reach for the choker. Buckling the strap behind yourself takes a while without being able to see what's happening, but the dull ache between your legs is reminding you what's at stake, and also reminding you to call a locksmith before this is all over. You can feel the leather band around your throat every time you swallow, a firm pressure that's just loose enough to not literally choke you. After that, throwing on the Lycra cap and pink wig is a rote motion you've been doing for weeks now, one you barely have to think about.
Now for the hard part. Behind the crowd of mesmerized students is the remote you were looking for, a satisfyingly analog device with no fancy-pants password lock or fingerprint scanner. You flip the mask upside-down and just as you suspected, instead of lenses it has a pair of hypno-goggles on the inside. It also has a four-inch long rubber gag on the inside, but there is nothing surprising about that. Pressing the remote's power button causes some coruscating lights to pour from the inside of the mask, lights you can't see from this angle and don't particularly want to. It also causes some tinny, distant noise to pour from the nearby earplugs, making you glad you didn't rush to put them in. Searching for controls, you hit Pause to stop the goggles' training session and then Menu to search for other functions. The outside of the mask lights up with an LED menu on its right cheek.
INDOCTRINATION LIST:
-Will Breaking Induction (Epilepsy Warning)
-Will Breaking Trigger Refresher (Epilepsy Warning) (CURRENTLY ACTIVE)
-Pacifism Induction (Epilepsy Warning)
-Good Girl Training
-Good Student Training
-Good Servant Training
-Advanced Good Servant Training
-Security Guard Training
-Advanced Security Guard Training
-Metanormal Control Training
-Demo
They'll expect the goggles to be online, won't they? Sitting around with the goggles offline would be the equivalent of a turkey hiding in an oven. With both earplugs firmly shoved in your ears, you place the remote back where you found it, carefully select "Demo", and press Play. The irritating flashing lights are replaced with a soothing pulse you feel much more safe around. You quietly pad around the eighteen victims one more time, board the van, close the rear door as softly as you can, and push the mask on to your face...
There's a sudden, painful suction around you as all the air is forced out of the space between the mask and your face! A tiny motor in the mask spins as the gag in your craw inflates until it fills your entire mouth and forces your jaw open. Not even mumbling is possible behind the large foreign object lodged in your mouth. You tug at it in a futile manner, knowing that it won't come off until you reach your destination.
A feeling of calm washes over you as the whispers and the dancing illusions surround your mind. It seems this isn't a harmless demoscene animation after all... it's some sort of sleep aid. You make the same pose the other seated students are making- feet flat on the floor, hands folded on the seat cushion in front of your lap, backs straight, eyes forward. Everything about this is wrong, yet it's your one chance at salvation... and maybe getting revenge on this creepy school. As you semi-willingly drift off into a trance, your future all depends on where you're about to be sent.