"All right," the principal's voice booms over the P.A., "please exit to your new locker room in an orderly fashion. You will be issued an appropriate school uniform for your new gender." One by one, the students begin to shuffle toward the locker room they weren't supposed to be in earlier this morning. You hesitate, as do the fox-girl and bunny-girl standing next to you, but you are shooed towards the locker room by school officials.
The girls' locker room certainly isn't what it's cracked up to be. Or maybe it is; there's certainly a lot of naked and half-naked girls in here, but it's not doing anything to arouse you. A terrible thought occurs to you: could they change things so that the new girls would be attracted to guys and vice versa? You certainly don't [i]think[/i] you like guys, but if a whole room full of girls in various stages of undress isn't doing anything for you...you try not to think about it as you shuffle down the line that's been set up.
First off, a cranky-looking older lady in a beehive hairdo and highly unflattering glasses makes you straighten up while she takes some measurements. The poking, prodding, and tape-squeezing set off unfamiliar sensations in places you never had before, and you try desperately to ignor them. The lady hands you a slip with some numbers written on it, and sends you off down the line. At the other stations you're handed, in order, a pair of panties (plain and white,) a bra (similarily white and frilless, thankfully,) a pair of knee-length white socks, black leather pennyloafers, a grey plaid skirt that reaches most of the way to the knees, a white blouse, and a blue vest. This is a little puzzling, as this isn't even the girls' uniform for your school, at least not the one the original girls wore. You begin to wonder what the purpose of this "experiment" is, but that's the end of the line, and you're guided away from the clothing tables and towards the locker area, where the new girls are being shown how to dress.
It's a confusing process, and you have half a mind to protest, but none of the officials involved look like they're in the mood for an argument. Undressing is pretty simple, although your tail gets all ruffled up when you pull it through the rip it made in your pants, and you're left standing there, completely naked, as the demonstrator finishes up the example and begins again. You can't see yourself, as you're not facing a mirror, but it's still disconcerting to consider what you might look like nude.
It's almost a relief when she shows you how to put on the panties, and how to thread your tail through the fly that's been included in the back. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of both your new equipment and your soft, curvy behind, but try not to pay any attention to either. Next comes the bra, and you can't help but pay attention, as it's a lot more complicated than the panties. Your breasts take up a sizable part of your field of vision as you struggle to get the bra on, but eventually you manage, and quickly look away, trying to forget what you saw. You know it's futile, and you'll have to come to terms with this since you'll be this way for who knows how long, but you just can't accept yourself as a girl, and this whole clothing thing is only making it worse.
The skirt isn't hard at all, but it's almost as disconcerting as the underwear. This is a huge taboo for guys, and you'd really like to skip it, but of course there's the beehive lady, glaring at you as you hesitate. Sure, it's plaid, but it could never be passed off as a kilt, even if you weren't a girl. Oh, hell, there's no point in fighting it; you stretch out the waistband and carefully step into the skirt, guiding your tail inside. It's a bizarre feeling, having cloth brushing on the outsides of your legs but nothingon the inside. The blouse isn't really a problem; it's just a shirt under another name, you reason. Still, it's obnoxious that they require it to be tucked into the waistline of your skirt. The vest is likewise a cinch, just really pointless. Why bother with a vest? Sure, it looks good, but...well, that might be the point. What if the whole uniform is just an elaborate mind-game calculated to see how resistant you are to the change? Nobody seems to be particularily willing to fight it. Maybe some of the kids who transferred out prior were the ones who would put up a fight.
The socks are also no problem, except that bending over to put them on gives you another healthy dose of your own bust. The shoes are just as easy; at least your uniform shoes are a slip-on variety. And then you're done. There's still no mirror, but you can see what the uniform looks like on the other girls. Your mind-game theory is making quite a lot of sense; the uniform is pretty much designed for the purpose of making you look cute. You wonder what the new boys are going to think. And...if they have changed it so you're attracted to guys, if the new boys do like it...what's going to happen to you if they start hitting on you?
"God," the bunny-girl who came over to the mirror earlier whispers, "they're playing dress-up with us, aren't they?" You nod.
"Yeah," the fox-girl mutters. "They're just messing with us. I think that's the whole point of this 'experiment' of theirs. I wonder what they told our parents it was."
"I don't know," you reply. "I don't know what would be worse: if my parents signed onto this with false information, or if they knew this would happen."
Suddenly, the P.A. fires up again. "Please," the principal says, "proceed out of the locker room and to the cafeteria. There you will be assigned your new names, picked for you by your parents."
"I guess that answers that question," the bunny-girl groans. "But...my mom and dad intended this? What were they thinking!?"
"I don't know," the fox-girl says, eyes beginning to moisten. "I didn't...I can't see why they'd do something like this. It's not as though I've ever been any trouble, and they've never hinted that they wanted a girl..."
"Don't think about it," you say, your voice more than a little shaky. "I don't think we have anything to gain by speculating; we'll just have to ask them."
The bunny-girl nods as you enter the cafeteria. An elderly man is holding a microphone and going through a list of names. The students he calls are walking to his table, where he gives them a nametag with their new name on it. You stomach roils at the thought. Not only have your parents consented to have your life turned upside-down for who knows how long, they've also condescended to give you a new name, as if you've always been an animal-girl and this wasn't just some twisted experiment they signed you up for. The urge to resist wells within you, but you realize that the best way to get out of this is to make it out of the school first, and to do that you're going to have to cooperate.
"Stephen Jonathan Miller?" That's your name. Steeling yourself, you walk to the table and receive your nametag. Stephanie Julia Miller, that's you. Sighing, you walk back to your place. Before too long, the two girls who have been with you are called. The fox-girl, Jason Aaron Hanson, is renamed Jennifer Erin Hanson, and the bunny-girl, Kevin Anders Cooper, is dubbed Katherine Andrea Cooper. "Peachy," she growls, as she stands back in place. "Just friggin' peachy. Look, we've gotta do something about this."
"I don't know what we can do," Jennifer sighs. "It's not like we can muster enough force to make them change us back, and our beloved legal guardians did give them full legal authority to do this. I'm not sure we could even file a lawsuit; I think we have to get parental approval for that."
Katherine rolls her eyes. "Well, I'm damn well not going to take this lying down. We'll find something. I don't know what, but we'll find something."
You nod. There's got to be something you can do; you're just not sure what. For that matter, you're not even sure what's going to happen next.