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July 29, 2009 “W-wh-what kind of game are you playing?” George said, as he lolled his head. “Your lawyer is as guilty as you are. You should have received a sentence much harsher than thirteen years.” “That’s what the D.A. offered.” “A man from a well-to-do family like yours, Mister Fellows, believes money allows you to bear only a minimal amount of responsibility for your actions, no matter how heinous.” Warden Manned turned to Sharkey. “Thirteen years,” Mann started. “That doesn’t seem like a just sentence.” Mann then looked at Eaton. “Does it, Bruno?” “Not quite, sir,” the guard answered. “So we decided to take things into our own hands,” Warden Mann said. He turned to Sharkey. “Please fill in the details, doctor.” The doctor’s jaws tightened and his gaze hardened. “We are going to make sure that you pay for your crime. You will receive justice in the truest sense of the word” George’s eye’s widened and he whirled back toward the Warden. “Y-you castrated me?” Mann’s tone was decidedly sharper. “Castration would be too good for you.” “What the hell could be worse than…” George began to hyperventilate. Sharkey smiled, amused by the fear in the young man’s eyes. “There’s an old saying, that you shouldn’t judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. Well, today George, you are taking the first steps in the shoes of Minnie Denton.” “Torture is illegal.” George was overcome with fear, and now his lethargy was distant. He had fight in him, which allowed him to block out his pain, even as he strained to break free of the leather straps that bound him. “This isn’t torture,” Sharkey said. “But rather, an eye for an eye.” “Then pluck out my eye and be done with it!” The doctor put his hands behind his back and took a deep breath. “George, you are part of an experimental procedure. A pilot program that the state wishes to keep secret.” “Why?” “Because you are the worst sort of man that our society can produce and you must be taught a lesson. Hence, you are to undergo this innovative program of rehabilitation:” Sharkey manipulated the control so that the table was now tilted at forty-five degrees. “Now as I was saying, this experiment is designed to insure that a prisoner becomes rehabilitated, that is with zero chance of recidivism. At the same time he receives a punishment befitting of his deed. We believe the end result will be a person ready to return to society because he realizes the depth of his crime and is truly remorseful.” “You’re speaking in riddles,” George grunted. “The letters S-R-S mean anything to you?” The doctor took a penlight from his pocket and shined it in George’s face, then nodded approvingly. “George, are you familiar with the word ‘vaginoplasty’?” “Sounds like some sort of medical thing, surgery or something.” “Do you know what sort of surgery?” “I’m not the one who went to medical school!” George snapped. There was a look of pity on the doctor’s face. “What I am trying to tell you is that after today, you will no longer be a man.” There was a long pause and for a moment, Sharkey thought that George had fallen back to sleep. “You still with us, George?” “You’ve only confused me more.” “I don’t see how that’s possible. I just told you what our plans were. I used medical jargon and then explained it in layman’s terms.” “You said I would no longer be man. I assume that means that you are going to castrate me.” George’s voice surprisingly lacked tremors. He was resigned to the idea that there was no way out. His eyes narrowed as he watched the doctor shake his head. “We are going much deeper than castration,” Sharkey said. “We are going to make you into the thing you have absolutely no respect for.” “So you’re going to make me into a nigger?” George began to laugh, first it came out as a soft chuckle, building up to a crescendo. “Doc, I think you’ve been working behind these walls too long and the fig’s sliding outta your Newton .” There was a thick pause, followed by Warden Mann’s look of sorrow. His eyes met those of the doctor’s. Sharkey turned back to face off with George. “Sir, under powers granted to us by the State Board of Corrections, we are going to make you into a woman.” George didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He shivered at not knowing whether the two men were pulling his leg or trying to work some sort of psychological game designed to break him. He settled on the latter, believing that it was a subliminal suggestion that would terrify him into modifying his behavior, like he had seen in the movie A Clockwork Orange. The doctor proceeded in a tone of voice reserved for medical men who have to explain the death of a child to optimistic parents. “The only way to truly get you to understand the depth of your depravity and the level of hurt you caused that woman and her family, is to alter your gender. Not partially, but completely.” Suddenly George grunted and strained mightily against his binds. The veins in his hands, arms and neck bulged as he tried to free himself. Mann, Sharkey and Bruno Eaton looked on amused. After nearly a minute, George was spent and complained of pain in his chest. It was not the crushing kind associated with a heart attack, but a muscular ache in his breastbone. “This is cruel and unusual punishment! You are deliberately trying to break my….” George gasped. It was then when he remembered his nakedness, and as he did so, he took note of two of the men who were wearing scrubs rolling toward him a full-length mirror. The men turned the mirror so that it was directly in front of him. George’s heart pounded to such an extent that he was certain the others could hear it. It took several seconds for his eyes to adjust, as the dim overhead light reflected off the shining glass and beamed directly into George’s eyes. Several seconds passed before he saw his reflection. His face twisted into a theater mask of fear. “My God, no!” He screamed. George’s scream echoed in the chamber, as he stared at the image in the mirror. Not only was he no longer a skinny man of twenty-one, but someone lithe, with delicate boyish features made more feminine by the altering of his cheekbones. His chest rose…and froze….and fell rapidly as he stared at the small, but feminine breasts that protruded from his chest. He forced himself to look down. His pubic region had been shaved and labia replaced the penis that once dangled from between his legs. His mouth tried to form words, but none came. George’s breath caught in his lungs, his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. * * * * When George came to he was wearing a white T-shirt and loose-fitting pants, and found himself chained to a bed in a padded cell. His ankles were bound together as well. He stared blankly at Warden Mann and Dr. Sharkey as they stood in opposing corners of the room looking down at him. Finally, the Warden spoke. “Good morning, Miss Fellows. How are you feeling?” The sound of Sharkey’s voice made George turn away, like a child might do when watching a frightening scene in a horror movie. Sharkey’s voice was as gentle as that of children’s TV host Mr. Rogers . “The sooner you accept what we have done for you, the sooner we can get to the next phase.” George’s expression was somewhere between distress and confusion. He leaned back with his eyes closed. “You mean this isn’t over?” “You have now undergone several facial feminization surgeries. Your labiaplasty and breast augmentation have also gone well, but there is a long way to go. In order to develop a womanly state of mind, you’ll need to be totally feminized.” “This is sick! Who are you to be playing God?” “We are Gods,” Mann replied. “But we’re getting off-point. The state has an obligation to see that you are rehabilitated. Your sexual reassignment is part of that process. The fact you are a woman is your final reality.” “What about my family?” “They’ve been informed of your procedure.” George tried to jump to his feet, but the chain that fastened him to the bed was too short, and all his effort resulted in was a lacerated wrist and bruised hip. He fell back on his haunches and glared at his tormentors. “What did you tell them?” “That you voluntarily underwent a gender change and that staff psychologists determined you to be a qualified candidate. We threw in some mumbo-jumbo about your rape was your angry, jealous reaction to being a woman trapped in a man’s body.” It was hard for Sharkey not to laugh as he spoke. “Needless to say, they bought it and they asked that their names be removed from your visitation list. I think the reason why is obvious.” Tears began to roll down George’s cheeks as he asked, “Where am I now?” Sharkey looked at Warden Mann, who took over the storyline. “You’ve been transferred to the California Institute for Women in Frontera , California . I don’t think I have to explain why.” “So you’re going to keep me here in this room until my sentence is served?” “You will remain in this section of the prison for a short time, until the shrinks instill in you the feminine mindset. Then you will be further feminized when we put you out there among your sorority sisters. And what a group it is, Fellows. Killers, robbers and women who are tougher than you ever were. You can also expect conjugal visits of the involuntary sort, as the lesbian population eyes you.” Mann paused. “Yes, Fellows, you are a lovely woman. By far lovelier than your victim.” ------------ About the author: Timothy N. Stelly is a poet, essayist, novelist and screenwriter from northern California. His novel, HUMAN TRIAL, is the first part of a sci-fi trilogy and is available from Amazon.com, allthingsthatmatterpress.com and in e-book format at mobipocket.com. website: http://stellbreadO@tripod.com Email: stellbread@yahoo.com 
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