Reparative Pal Program One

The world ended for me the day that I was forcibly outed. It was the worst day of my life so far and I know it’s going to get worse. Be worse for me. All thanks to someone finding something that I tried to keep hidden. Tried to keep secret the best that I could. A person that I thought was my friend but turned out to not be. We spent hours talking in my room and when I went to use the bathroom, they snooped. Found my illegal materials and made a call to the police. When I came back from the bathroom, they were so angry. Disappointed to find that I was one of them.

The 'wrong ones'.

They kept me restrained in my bedroom until the authorities came. My status was revealed to the entire world. On display like everyone else. A screen that showed who I was. Where I had formerly resided. And what exactly was my crime had been. What my crime was you might ask? I am a transgender man. Being as such makes people believe that I am a danger to society. One of many ‘crimes’ that were committed by people like me. We are one of the many ‘threats’ that the new form of society deems unacceptable. I know that my ‘crime’ isn’t the worst, but it is punishable by taking of rights. Forcibly being taken to a facility. And I will be processed for a whole new existence as whoever they want me to be. Not the human that I was before I was processed. This is going to be difficult for me. For the foreseeable future, I will be effectively….effectively without a future. And this is something that I never thought I would have to go through. When I was younger, I could see myself living a happy life. Ever since the election of our beloved autarch came into power four years ago.

Hard to believe how fast our country has changed in such a short amount of time. Yet here we are now.

I tried to flee from the powers that be. But I unfortunately didn’t make it that far. Since a nurse managed to overpower me. Pumped me full of some form of medicine that I think might have been a sedative. Though I can’t be entirely sure now. My mind is much too hazy for simple thinking now. Nor can I move. I was handcuffed by the nurse that caught up to me and drugged me. She strapped me down to this wheeled cot. I think it’s called a stretcher. Right now, I can’t entirely be sure if that’s what it is. My brain is not working with me thanks to whatever I was given. Sort of like it’s floating away from me on like a paper boat. One that I’ll never be able to grab as it continued to drift along the waves. Probably never will get a proper grasp of it again. Nothing about what is going to happen to me has anything to do with it. I know that I’m simplifying what is going to happen to me. It’s my way of coping with what is happening to me. I’m not yet certain of it just yet. All I know is that my brain feels floaty and the sitting next to me is sort of kind. That ‘kindness’ that used to be given to real animals when they were around. Her hand going through my hair like mine used to go through my cat’s fur. A soft soothing nonsense that was uttered from her lips as she continued to stroke my hair. Tone so soft and gentle that my drugged brain wouldn’t understand the condescension in her tone. Didn’t want to. She muttered,”It’s alright, peanut. You’re not a danger to society, just so confused about yourself.”

“Soon as we get you to the Clinic. You’ll be feeling right as rain and never have such silly thoughts like this again. No, you won’t.”,she cooed. Her tone was as sweet as honey and every bit as sticky with pity. Despite how infuriating her baby talk should feel, I wasn’t upset. Maybe it was the drug that she injected me with. Or maybe it was the fear that I was feeling overwhelming my mind along with the drug. Either way, I was relaxed under her touch. Stroking my hair the way she was. It really made me think that she was doing this to be kind. Not because she’s a patronizing monster who wanted to pretend as such. But that she was really a good woman that had a terrible job to do. I couldn’t tell through the fuzzy feeling that was in my head right now. Instead, I just sat there as she continued to stroke my hair. Softly muttering nonsense.

My brain couldn’t keep tuned in. As my thoughts drifted into how I was going to be like the others very soon. How things got to be the way that they were. Not just thrown into it. No, it was a sort of slow decline into this madness. Well, sort of. Before this program, we were just executed for our crimes. Taken into a facility and ‘humanely euthanized’ or however they wanted to call this. It’s a softer way of saying murdered. As they wouldn’t want the public to be afraid of their government if they knew the truth. No, that would be pretty much a huge uproar they would have to then settle after a few months. Possibly less if they were lucky. Their luck seemed to be good until one public protest destroyed that.

There were at least a hundred or more people like me. Several communities came to protest what had been done to them. That they were going to show the public the truth of what had been done to us. And show they did.

There were no survivors.

Public execution that somehow created enough backlash to make the government rethink their use of us. Instead of murdering the ‘Wrong Ones’ as we’re called. Used to be called. It’s the one name that stuck out to me, so I call us that. Even though there is absolutely nothing wrong with us. The name just bounced around my skull better. They call us ‘Companion Prisoners’ in some states. Other states call us ‘Philia-pet’ or something like that. There are so many names that my brain can’t recall every one of them. Nor does it really want to. All it does is remind me that I wasn’t going to be a sentient being anymore. Or rather that I wasn’t going to be considered one. That I was going to be a pet for whatever master or mistress would want me. A fact that my brain considers ‘lucky’ and that maybe I wouldn’t be humanely euthanized. Like I was so sure that some of the others such as myself were in these facilities. Maybe I would die at the hands of my new master or mistress. Since you never knew with these types. It made me think that maybe they were going to possibly euthanize me like they still were. I know they still were. Despite how horrifying the idea must be for me, I was not feeling it. Though I can’t tell if that’s because of the medication that was running through my veins right now. The stress of the situation that was getting to me as I ‘stood’ there. Strapped to the stretcher with the handcuffs unnecessarily keeping my wrists tied down it. As were the ankle cuffs and straps they put on me.

All unnecessary when you’re feeling as loopy and lightweight as me.

My thoughts slowly drifted to realizing this was the longest I’d been outside. Out in the fresh air for who knows how long. Since I couldn’t remember the last time that I willingly went outside for anything. Aside from maybe a walk to the mailbox. The drugged-up way my brain was I couldn’t recall more things. Don’t know if I’ve mentioned that more than once but, it is. At any rate this just made me realize how little time I willingly had spent outside of my home. How I had taken going outside voluntarily for granted. Avoiding all sunlight like I were a mogwai. Now I realized how stupid it was to do that. Cursing myself for not walking outside more often than I had. Opting for staying inside and watching horror movies. Or listening to horror stories on either YouTube or on Spotify to relax. Since working was so damn difficult and so was dealing with the public. Being ousted the way I was didn’t help. But who cares about that right now? All I’m disappointed in myself for not doing is being outside more. Taking in that lovely fresh air when I could voluntarily go through the beautiful park that I can sort of see. My head is too restrained for me to be able to easily see it and won’t allow me to turn my neck. For the strangest reason I want to walk through the beautiful park that I barely used. That the public barely used as well. Walking around the city with music in my ears and listening to music that I loved.

I wasted my life; I can see that now. Wasted my life on horror movies, games, and books. While I sat in my room too tired from working to even begin to do anything. Rotting there if I’m going to be honest. The straps dug into my skin as I felt a tear run down my cheek. That ‘lovely’ nurse wiping it away with a gentle hand. Her thumb rubbing little circles into my skin while she stood next to me. And she kept saying soft nonsense words in such a quiet voice. Almost like she was speaking to a spooked dog or something to that effect. It doesn’t stop my tears from falling from my eyes as we wait for the transportation. Well, the other transportation to take me away from the place that I’d called home. More started falling when I finally spotted that transportation. A huge grey bus that was like a prison bus. It was a lot larger than I was anticipating it was going to be too. Then again, I can’t say I’ve ever seen a real prison bus up close. All I knew was that there wasn’t any way that I’d be avoiding it. Soon I was going to be on it with the rest of the people like me and…and I found wishing for death to be floating around my head. A thing that should be making me afraid but given the situation I was going to give myself some slack. Carefully I watch the bus pull up to the curb right next to me and this nurse. Who’s name I have completely forgotten thanks to me being too scared to listen to her. Or not being interested in reading her stupid nametag as I had been more worried about escaping.

Could be both.

Either way I watched as two men came out of the bus. Both walked up to the nurse that was standing near my stretcher. Her hand was running through my tresses as she pleasantly greeted them. Telling me some nonsense about how they’re both nice men. That they weren’t going to harm a hair on my head or such nonsense. If I weren’t so out of it, I would have rolled my eyes at her words, but I was. So, all I did was just give a weak whimper while the men took hold of the stretcher. Wheeling me towards the bus. They were around the same height from my position on the stretcher. One was black haired with dark brown eyes. His eyes were sort of sad eyes. If it weren’t for the fact, he was helping ruin my life they would be beautiful to me. Oh, Hell they were beautiful to me despite that fact. That other one was a brunette with the emptiest looking blue eyes that I had ever seen. It sent a chill down my spine. Or would if things were different. They were both in white scrubs that you see in stereotypical movies. The one that had sad eyes stayed with me as the empty eyed one got this platform down from the bus. Wheeling me on it as he gave a loud sigh and patted my head rather roughly. In an annoyed tone, he snaps,”God, I wish you gender-freaks just died out. My weekend would be so much better if I didn’t have to deal with any of you.”

“I’d be at home enjoying the damn weekend in peace with my friends and family.”,he added. His tone was dripping with distaste. Whether it was for me personally or for people like me, I wasn’t entirely sure. Since I wasn’t entirely certain of what Mr. Sad-Eyes was directing his vitriol towards momentarily. My best guess was me and anyone like me. Either way, I didn’t bother trying to respond as the platform gets us on this bus. Shutting the door-thing behind us. He wheels me over to a spot and straps down the stretcher. Everyone else was chained onto their seats from what I could tell. My eyes widened slightly when I spotted that, and Mr. Sad-Eyes luckily didn’t notice this as I barely saw them. Since I couldn’t properly move my head to watch everyone. Only getting brief glimpses of them as I glanced around with my eyes. One looked like they had a bag over their head or something like it. I vaguely remember that would happen to people who had spat at cops or someone in charge. I’m not sure if they were all like me, ‘Gender-freaks’ or if they were something else entirely. It didn’t matter. There was no way that I could ask any of them any questions about how things were. Looking up at the ceiling of this bus I found my eyelids slowly shutting. Suddenly finding myself too tired to even try to stay awake. That made me wonder if it was from the drugs or if it was from the situation. Either way, I could feel myself going unconscious as the bus starts moving. People around me are whimpering, loudly bawling, or praying to some deity that I can’t catch the name of. This whole process felt like it’d been going on somewhere short of forever when it was probably just a few minutes.

Maybe half an hour at most.

While the remaining part of my consciousness was yanked away from me, I prayed. That whatever I was going to wake into wouldn’t be as horrible as I think. But I knew that it was merely wishful thinking on my part. Whatever lay ahead of me was going to be a horror that I had never experienced before. That I was being taken to a Hell that I’d never conceived of in my life. And I silently wished for a death that will not come. No matter how hard I pray for it.