Reparative Pal Program four

It wasn’t long before the needle was pressed into my skin. Injecting me with that sedative he had in his pocket. Which makes me wonder how many times he’s done this before. And with how many other people like me. When he pulls the needle from my arm, he tosses it into a nearby trashcan. Something that I guess the janitors aren’t going to question at all. And I briefly consider screaming when his hand moved from my throat to my mouth. That asshole dropping to the mat and pulling me close with his other hand. Wrapping around me to keep me still. Obviously, it was to keep me from screaming or trying to fight him. Tears ran down my cheeks as John held me close. My head pressed into his chest while I slowly started getting too tired to struggle. After a few minutes or so, I was feeling loopy from whatever he injected into my arm, and I gave up struggling.

Soon as I do, he lets go of my mouth. Being extremely careful that I wasn’t faking it. Or that’s how it came off to me.

Keeping a gentle grip on my form as he laid me down on the foam mat slowly. His cheek pressed against the top of my head as he followed me down. Moving so very slowly for whatever weird reason. It feels weird as I’m pretty sure there’s no way that I can’t fight him back. Not with how deeply sedated I am. His arms wrap around me a bit tighter as we laid down together on the foam mat. Which would probably be uncomfortable for him as it has been for me. A little thing that would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so sedated. But I hoped it would hurt his back when he laid down with me. John’s arms tightly wrapped around my shoulders for some odd reason. Almost like a child sleeping with their well-loved teddy bear. He carefully rearranged one of his arms and started petting my hair gently. I could almost feel the smile on his face while he stroked my hair so happily. The other arm was gently rubbing up and down my side in a loving manner. There was something so off-putting about it, but I was too tired to care.

“You gender-freaks confuse the Hell out of me.”,John confessed in a low voice. One that would be too quiet to be heard if they were outside the room. Or even in the room with us. Especially if they were in the room with us and watching this. That orderly sighed as he continued to nuzzle me and pet my body. It feels so foreign to me. Softly, he continued,”Honestly you look so much better as a girl than a boy.”

“So much prettier as this, a sweet feminine young lady.”,he informs. That tone to his voice had me on edge as I laid against him. Unable to move my body as I was laying there and I slowly managed to frown. This was bullshit I had heard during the entire time that I transitioned in the past. Every one of them was telling me how I was better off as a woman. That I looked much better as a damned woman. Femininity suited me better than being masculine. And all that other horrible bullshit that they would spew at me. Making me hate them or cutting them out of my life. Even if they were family. As I would rather not have a family than be whoever they want me to be. And not the person that I have desired. This disgusted me thoroughly as John held me tight against him. Kissing my forehead in gentle pecks. Ones that a family member would give their children to show how much they loved them. Repeatedly. Then he muttered,”You’re like an adorable little pixie like this.”

“With such lovely, curly, strawberry blonde hair now. None of that stupid short green hair that you had before.”,he cooed at me. In a tone that almost made me shudder with revulsion. It was like he was talking to a beloved pet rather than a human being. Which I suppose is what he would be considering me now. A pet. Never again would I be seen as a human as I stayed in the Woodrow Clinic. I would never be considered or treated like a human being again. And I guess that I wouldn’t have autonomy over my appearance ever again. I don’t care if he thinks my hair is better off a natural color or not. To me it was better off being short and green. That way people couldn’t grab it whenever they felt like. At my former job, they used to do that when it was even the tiniest bit below my shoulders. A few of them even had the nerve to act like I was…God, I can’t be thinking that right now. All I should be doing is trying to focus on this creepy asshole’s hands on my body. Which were thankfully not going lower than my waist. And I slowly started to fear that he was going to try to keep me for himself. A legitimate worry in my mind as John kissed my forehead a few dozen times. My thoughts were confirmed when he mused,”Do you think Management would let me keep you after your graduation if I put a request in?”

“God, I would love that. A tiny little Tinkerbell cutie like you. Man…my life would be complete if I got to keep you.”,he continued. A sort of dreaminess to his tone when he told me this. Like he was already imagining how his life was going to be with me in it. How he was going to keep me in his house. Apartment. Wherever this creepy lowlife called home. I didn’t really much care for it. It just disgusted me as we laid together on the foam mat. Too tired to even begin to try anything else from the sedative he injected into me. A few thoughts crept into my mind as it slowly reacted badly to whatever is in the I.V. Unable to recall if sedatives would react terribly to antibiotics or whatever this weird junk was. It wasn’t something that I understood as I had no real medical knowledge to call upon. And I wish that I had my phone to look up if the stuff was going to harm me or not. Sure, it wasn’t an entirely wise thing to do. Google has never been the best place to look up any form of medical stuff or diagnoses. But at least it would have given me a general idea of what was going wrong with my body.

“I think I deserve you for all that damned work I put into making you better.”,he muttered. My blood ran cold when he said this. I assume that he doesn’t mean he performed surgery on me. As I was sure that he wasn’t a doctor. Just an orderly. But that this guy had been the one mainly paying attention to my body when I was brought in. It certainly seemed plausible from what I remember that first day. Those memories seemed like years away instead of just five months or so. So hazy and unable for me to reach them. Either way, I doubted that he was the one that gave me breasts once again. Or made me skinny. A thing that I hadn’t desired since I was in middle school and all through high school as well. I had been slowly learning to love myself a couple of years ago as I transitioned. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he could have been doing to me. My mind wouldn’t allow me to stop thinking. Though I really didn’t want to dwell on what it could have possibly been.

“My apartment is beautiful, and I know you’d love to be there with me.”,John continued. In a tone that I heard a friend say to her dog when I was younger. Right when she first got him. She cooed to him as she promised that she would love and take care of him. Now I know how that damn mutt felt like. He gently grasped my chin and turned my face to his. Those sad dark brown eyes of his looking deep into mine. There was a strange shimmer of something in those eyes of his. With how drugged my mind was, I couldn’t understand what it was. But I had this feeling in my gut that it wasn’t anything good for me. That if he somehow had the chance to keep me as he wants to, I wouldn’t be living too long in his ‘care’. Softly, he added,”My bedroom is very big. And I got a California King bed that we can both easily sleep in.”

“It would make cuddling a whole lot better than this stupid piece of foam you got right now.”,he continued. It confirmed what I already knew about my ‘bed’. That it was nothing more than a piece of foam they put sheets on. It makes my old mattress back home look like a five-star bed. His words made me feel more drained and tired either way. Not just emotionally as well as physically. I could feel myself slowly drifting off as he held me close to his chest. It was a struggle to keep my eyelids from closing as we laid there. It seemed that I couldn’t hide this from John as he noticed almost immediately. This strange smile on his face when he looked down at me. Kissing my forehead gently a few dozen times more. In a soft voice, John cooes,”Aww, you’re tired. Sorry to keep you awake for so long, my little chickpea.”

“Time to let you sleep. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to feed you. Pleasant dreams.”,he informs me. Laying me down on the stupid foam piece that served as my bed. My eyelids slowly shut without my permission as he gently moved the blanket over me. Tucking me in like I was his beloved child. Slipping into a dreamless and restless slumber. Sometime later, I woke up still feeling groggy as I slowly sat up on the stupid foam mat. My stomach was twisting inside of me as I started feeling nauseous suddenly. This bitter taste rose in the back of my throat as I slowly started waking up from that drugged slumber. Frantically I looked around the room as I dry heaved. Saliva was pooling in my mouth excessively. Didn’t take a genius to know that I was going to be vomiting anytime soon. A moment later, I spotted a large metal bucket next to the foam mat. One that was thankfully within my reach as I snatched it up from the floor. Not a moment too soon I was sticking my head in it as I held it with one hand. Holding my hair up with the other one. Spewing up what little food I had in it from who knew how long ago. A few moments later I was done, I sat the metal bucket on the floor next to the mat. Feeling lucky that the damned thing was nearby. And I had a hunch on who had left it here for me.

John, clearly.

Though I am somewhat surprised that he knew that I needed it. As I wondered how he knew that I would be feeling sick enough to need to vomit. Then again, he’s an orderly. It probably wasn’t hard for him to know what would happen if the sedative mixed with whatever is in the I.V. That thought terrified me more. As I started to wonder how many times, he’s done this since the program had begun. How many other ‘Wrong Ones’ he drugged to get what he wanted from them. Everything about this really freaks me out.

For obvious reasons.

I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. Wishing that I had something to wash the horrible taste out. Like a breath mint or some mouth wash. Anything of that variety. Hell, I would even take just a cup of freaking water right now. Since I clearly can’t have that or anything else. I just look for the journal that I was given. It was on the other side of the mat on the floor with the pink pen tucked into it. This was probably the best time for me to start writing as I didn’t know when John was coming back to the room. And knowing my luck it wasn’t going to be for another few hours or so. Maybe not until tomorrow if I was lucky. Sure, I knew that I’m never lucky, but a guy can dream, can’t he? Also, I feel like it’s wise to make an entry. As I had to convince the powers that be that the therapy was working. But I had to be careful with what I write. As I wasn’t too sure of how well they could detect lies.

______________________

Dear Journal,

Today is my first day of the program. Well, the first day of the program that I’m awake for at the very least. Not the real first day of the program. Since I’ve been here for the past five months, or that’s what an orderly told me. Not too sure if he was entirely telling me the truth or not. Since the guy doesn’t really seem to like me. After all, he calls me a ‘gender-freak’. I’m guessing that’s what he calls everyone that’s transgender. As I doubt that is something that this facility would be calling trans people.

Or I would hope not.

Maybe he’ll be kinder when I’m done with the program. And when I’m done with the program, he’ll be the person that I’m living with. Though I’m not too sure if that is something that I would want from his previous behavior. As of right now the orderly doesn’t seem to like me in the slightest bit. I suppose I can dream. Anyway, I’ll be trying to find something to do as I wait for the next session. Or whatever I get to do next. I’m not sure what activities are allowed in a place like this. But I hope that I can have something to read or watch sometime soon.

Sincerely,

Amelia Fontaine.

_____________________

I just hope that this will be enough to convince them that I’m slowly becoming what they want. That their brainwashing would be working on me. No, I won’t just sit here hoping that this plan of mine will be working. It is going to work and I’m going to be perfectly safe. In a couple of months, I will be escaping this Hellhole. And John isn’t going to be keeping me as a Companion Prisoner. Some frightening part of me was hoping that I can kill this horrible asshole. Take a knife or something and stab him in the face. And those thoughts were what surprised me as I sat on the horrible foam mat, they gave me.

As my thoughts were never this violent or dark before this. This whole damn ‘therapy’ business. Reparative stuff. Conversion program? Whatever you want to call this brainwashing bullshit. I was a completely normal person before any of this. Sure, I liked gory horror movies and stuff like that. Along with comics and books. Sometimes even writing a few short novels on the subject. Though I never thought of harming anyone. Let alone murdering anyone. But since I got to the Woodrow Clinic, I have had those kinds of thoughts. Which scares the Hell out me. Thoughts of killing that bastard in several ways was running through my mind. Sure, he’s a terrible person but murder feels a bit much. Maybe giving that prick a black eye would be fair? Possibly a split lip. Maybe a split lip…I mean…okay. Yeah, he drugged me. Forced me to lay down on this stupid foam mat so that he could cuddle up to me. Touching my body in ways that I dislike the most. Since I don’t like people touching my body or hair. Mostly my hair. After everything that’s happened at my workplace, I hate when people touch my hair. And him kissing my forehead the way he had been was. Sure, it wasn’t on the lips or anything like that. But still.

Maybe murder isn’t as bad as…no. It’s wrong. No matter what someone has done to me, I can’t just kill them.

It’s wrong and even if I feel that I’m in the right, I shouldn’t do it. Possibly be in the right. Right now, I’m not entirely sure if I would be or not. After…God, I never thought I would be in a situation like this. Being forced to come to this Hellhole after someone I wanted to be friends with would betray me. That person isn’t exactly the best and I should have known better…I really had hoped that I would be living my life normally. Well, normal for someone like me in my situation could be. A fat trans man that took testosterone for so many years. I had at least hoped I would be. Until this whole program cropped up, I was. Then testosterone became harder to get than before. And it wasn’t exactly easy for me before this. Also, the whole not having breasts thing was great. Sighing, I set my journal on the ground with the pen tucked in. My body was so damn different now. I wondered what the Hell they did to me to make me so skinny. Was it the reason that I can’t really walk right now? I wonder how long it’ll take for me to get strong enough to do so. A small fear that I’ll never be able to walk again popped up. I smothered it as I tried to not think negatively. Telling myself that I was going to get on my feet. Even if it doesn’t mean that I won’t be walking like I used to, I was going to be sure that I was going to walk.

Clearly, I wasn’t my normal self because of whatever was done to me. Like all those months that I’d been comatose was what did it? If that was the proper term for what happened to me or not. I’m not entirely certain of what was done to me. Clearly, they gave me implants. As I doubt that estrogen could give me the cup size I had before top surgery. Especially with the lack of food that I had for five months. They felt somewhat natural to me. Or as natural as an implant could possibly feel. Then again, I don’t think that I have ever touched an implant in my life. So honestly, I don’t have anything to compare my new body parts to. This is also not what should concern me the most. What should concern me the most is my waist. As it was one third the size it had been before I had been drugged by that nurse. All I wondered was just what made my stomach hurt so much. The first thing that hit me was the fact that they stapled it. To me it would explain why my stomach hurt after I had eaten the food John brought me. Even though it wasn’t a lot of food that I had been given.

But I guess my stomach might be a little too small to handle it. Or maybe it’s just my nerves from waking up like this. Not the person that I had been before I got sedated into oblivion. Going from just relying on whatever kind of food they could get into me. I’m not even sure how I could ‘eat’ while in a comatose state. Though that might be what was hurting my stomach. Going from the liquid diet that I had been on before. To go to real and normal food.

Solid food.

It wasn’t the world’s greatest food that I could have been eating. But it was healthy. I toyed with my blanket as I thought over if it was a lot of food or not. And I felt it was meager portions compared to what I normally ate. If I could remember how big the chicken had been, I think it would have been super tiny. And while I sat there thinking about it, I started hearing footsteps coming down the hall. Along with wheels rolling. Someone was coming with the food cart to bring me another unseasoned but healthy meal. I’m not even sure if I want to eat with how bad my stomach was feeling right now. After puking up what little food that I had eaten earlier in the day, I don’t think I can handle any more food in me. Setting my hands in my lap I watched the door to see who it could be. Hoping that someone other than the person that I worried about would be bringing me food. My hopes were dashed when John opened the door. Pulling the food cart behind him with a small smile on his face as he came in. I dropped my gaze to my lap as he got closer to me, and I didn’t dare look up to him when he got closer to me. Standing at the side of the foam mat that he had walked up to who knows how many hours ago. If I somehow decided to look at him, I get the feeling he was going to be smirking down at me.

Soon a tray of food was settled in my lap, unlike before. The food that was given to me this time was a bit smaller than before. A tiny amount of plain white rice. Along with a super tiny serving of steak that wasn’t seasoned either. There were three baby carrots and a small number of grapes along with them. Another glass of what I’m going to assume was skim milk was on the tray as well. Which is what I had been given last time. Out of all the milks that I’ve drank before, skim is the most disgusting one. And I hope to never have to voluntarily drink it again when I escape this Hellhole clinic. Maybe I won’t even drink milk again period.

“We decided to make your portions a little bit smaller as Alya noticed you were very uncomfortable in group.”,John explained. Not that I really needed the explanation for why it was happening. Nor did I really care about that either. All I cared about was building up my strength so that I could eventually escape. I know this won’t be the only thing I need to do to do that. But eating something would help a little bit. As I picked up my fork, John ran his fingers through my hair. Stroking it like I used to stroke my own pet’s fur. Giving a gentle sigh as he did so. A sort of happy sigh that disturbs me a bit. Making the hair on the back of my neck stand up as I resist the urge to pull away from him. Or hit him.

“Soon as you graduate from the program, Chickpea. I’m going to make sure that you come home with me.”,John whispered. In a way that sent a cold wave of fear washing over me. Instead of allowing this to show on my face, I kept calm. Eating the bland food that I had been given as I hear him leave the room. Doing my best to not vomit once again as I started to eat. Managing the best I can when the door shuts and I hear his footsteps fading. Along with the sound of that cart’s wheels. Now I was alone again with my thoughts as I ate slowly. Praying to whatever that was listening that I could get out of here before he could get his wish.