G11

by Sarah Bayen

Part Five

 

Steve awoke the next morning to the soft but insistent sound of the Machine's alarm call. His nightie had ridden up during the night, and he irritatedly pulled it down to his knees as he stood up. He needed the toilet. He should, according to their agreement, tell Sarah that he was going to use it, but it was early, and he was in need. The nightie was rather awkward, as he answered his call of nature, but he managed to hold it out of the way, and then flushed, before re-entering his room.

He needed a shower too. In a fit of pique, he decided not to tell Jeanette that either. He was rather cross with his new friends, partly because they had abandoned him the night before, and party because of their new found freedom to wear the trousers he so desperately coveted. Nevertheless, he showered quickly, hoping that Jeanette wouldn't wake, and burst in on him.

He dried himself, and went to the Interface to collect his Learning Uniform. Taking his time for once, he looked through to see what options he really did have. The skirt and the blouse were givens. He could, however, select from a number of pairs of knickers, bras, and shoes. He looked through his choices, trying to see if any of them were less offensively feminine than the others. It was a fruitless task. All of them were about 82% feminine, like him, he thought wryly. He eventually selected a cotton pair in pastel blue, blue for a boy, perhaps, and a pair of shoes without heels. The Interface chuntered to itself for a few moments before delivering his choices, together with a matching bra, which he picked out of the chute, and threw across the room in disgust. No way was he going to wear one of them!

He dressed himself carefully. If he had to wear a skirt, then he might as well make sure it was hanging straight. He looked at himself in the mirror, and was relatively pleased with the result. Today was going to be awful. After Linda's triumph yesterday, he was sure to be the only person in a skirt on the whole ship. The girls would all exercise their freedom to put on trousers, and there would be nothing for the boys to protest about.

Breakfast confirmed his fears. All of the girls, in an act of celebration, had decided to wear their new uniform trousers, black and smart. He expected some ribbing from his friends, but worse than that, everyone seemed to ignore the fact that he was the only one left stuck in a skirt. It had somehow become part of the fabric of their lives that he should be so dressed, and no one bothered to comment about it any more. Feeling very sorry for himself, he declined offers from both Bryn and Sarah to share their respective tables, and ended up eating in silence with Eddie and Malcolm. They seemed put out that he had sat on their table, and didn't even speak to each other, let alone him, during the meal.

The Machine announced that lessons would start shortly, and then surprised him with another announcement. "We request that G11 and B15 attend room Blue 65." He looked around the room for Karen, B15 as the Machine insisted on calling her, and saw her sitting with Mandy at their accustomed table. She caught his eye, and shrugged. She obviously had no better idea than he as to why they might have been summoned. His mind raced. Perhaps, just maybe, the Machine had seen the light after its confrontation with Linda and the girls last night. Maybe it was calling them in to apologise, and reassign them properly as boy and girl.

His heart was racing as his colleagues left for lessons, and once again, he and Karen were left alone. "What's all this about?" he asked her.

"Search me," she replied, standing tall next to him. "Still, there's only one way to find out. The Blue zone's down this way. Come on." She strode purposefully ahead, and, even in the flat shoes Steve had chosen for himself, he found it difficult to keep up. They walked along corridor after corridor, until Steve was completely lost. Karen seemed to know her way, however, and he followed her in blind faith until they came to a door marked 65. Karen placed her hand against the panel on the corridor wall, and the door opened.

"Welcome B15 and G11," the Machine intoned. There was no monitor here, and therefore no alien face to pass on the Machine's messages, which came from speakers in the ceiling as in most of the ship. "Please take seats."

There were two rather strange seats in the room, with backrests that extended up to their heads. Steve was hesitant, but seeing Karen place herself willingly enough in one, he felt reassured enough to sit in the other.

"Is this about our gender assignments?" Karen demanded, making herself comfortable in the chair. "Have you come to your senses at last?"

"One moment please," the Machine responded. There was some unusual clicks and thumps from the chairs themselves, and then, suddenly, Steve felt his arms and legs clasped tight by metal rings. He gasped, and looking across, saw that Karen was in the same predicament.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Small surgical procedure," the Machine responded, reassuringly.

"You said you wouldn't do any corrections until we agreed!" Karen reminded it. A needle appeared from the chair, and injected something into Steve's arm. The last thing he heard before lapsing into unconsciousness was the soothing voice of the Machine. "No genital corrections will take place without consent."

How long the procedure took, Steve was not sure. He woke up, feeling fuzzy headed, and, remembering suddenly where he was, looked anxiously around. He was relieved to see Karen still there next to him, groaning quietly to herself. With a whoosh, the bonds holding his arms and legs were withdrawn. Karen responded quicker than him, and in a flash was on her feet by the side of the operating chair, glaring around the room, as if daring the Machine to appear. She winced in pain.

"What have you done?" she demanded. "You've operated on us, I can feel it!" She hesitated, and looked down at her groin, still in its boy's trousers.

"We have conducted a small procedure to assist your happiness," the Machine said, reassuringly. Karen ripped at the waistband of her trousers, and pulled them down. Steve was momentarily surprised to see she was wearing a pair of boxer shorts. It hadn't occurred to him until then, but obviously she had similar problems obtaining gender appropriate underwear as him.

He was even more shocked seconds later, as she pulled the shorts down, and began to examine herself. Although he tried modestly and quickly to avert his eyes, Steve did see with certainty that Karen was still female. "What have you done?" she screamed again. "It hurts down there. You must have done something!"

"We have altered your urinary patterns to conform with your proper genders," the Machine told her. "This will help you adjust and add to your happiness."

"Well I'm not bloody happy!" she shouted back.
"What's happening?" Steve asked, lifting himself groggily off his chair. Science, even biology, was not one of his strongest subjects, and he was having difficulty understanding what the Machine was saying. He coyly brushed his hand against his own groin to reassure himself that his penis was still in tact.

"The bloody Machine's done something to make me pee like a boy!" Karen snarled. "The bastard!"

"Your urinary tract has been diverted to your penis," the Machine told her.

"I haven't got a bloody penis, you idiot!"

The truth was dawning on Steve slowly. A cold shock came over him. "You mean I'm going to have to pee like a girl?"

Karen turned on him with fiercely burning eyes. She breathed sharply once or twice before replying. It wasn't his fault that this had happened to them, she reminded herself, and she didn't want to turn her anger on him. Restraining herself from further shouting, she simply nodded. Steve's mouth fell open in horror, and he put his hand to his face, "No!" he said simply.

"We have diverted your urinary tract from your clitoris to its appropriate position," the Machine informed him. "This will enable you to urinate more appropriately."

"This is a bloody outrage!" Karen snapped, now glaring at the ceiling, as if the spirit of the Machine rested there, where its voice came from. "I'm not putting up with this!"

"The procedure is finished," the Machine went on, in its irritatingly reasoned tone. "You may experience a little discomfort for a few hours. Please return to your lessons now."

"No!" Karen shouted. "I demand that you reverse this fucking procedure now!"

The Machine chuntered to itself for a few seconds. "That would not be conducive to your happiness," it stated at last, then repeated. "Please return to your lessons."

"I don't want to wee like a girl," Steve protested, walking towards Karen, his brown eyes wide and frightened.

"And I don't want to wee like a bloody boy!" she snapped. They stood close together, looking at each other, Steve's eyes pleading, and hers angry. She put her arms out and onto his shoulders. "We'll sort this out," she reassured him.

"Please return to your lessons," the Machine repeated. "Further refusal will result in forcible ejection."

"We'd better go," Steve said, his eyes dancing nervously at Karen's face. She thinned her lips, and nodded, and they walked to the door. Once in the corridor, Steve burst into uncontrollable tears, his shoulders heaving as sobs wracked his body. Karen felt embarrassed, but after a while, walked over to him, and gently stroked his head.

"Don't worry," she said, gently. "It's not that bad."

"It is!" he wailed, through his sobs. "I've got to wee like a girl now! It's horrible!"

"I know," she said. "Don't worry about it. I won't tell anyone."

His damp eyes lifted, and looked into her face once more. "Really?"

"No," she said, smiling in spite of herself. "No one needs to know. We're going to get it put right sooner or later, so it can just be our little secret for the time being."

This seemed to reassure him, and his tears subsided. Karen searched in the pockets of her trousers for a handkerchief. She offered it to him, and he took it gratefully, drying his eyes. "Come on," she urged. "We don't want anyone to see that either of us has been crying do we?"

"You've not been crying," he observed, petulantly, wiping his cheeks.

She shrugged. "Well I'm too angry at the moment," she explained. "I'll probably cry later, on my own."

Steve felt ashamed of his outburst now. He was supposed to be the boy, the one who coped with things, or at least, if they didn't cope, got angry. Instead of that, he had just burst into tears, like the girl the Machine insisted he was. He hated himself for a moment, but began to forgive, remembering the loss of his parents as well as his maleness.

"Let's go and face the others," Karen suggested, holding her hand out for him. He took it gratefully, and, holding hands like lovers, they walked off down the corridor to rejoin their classmates.

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful. Lessons proceeded more or less as they had before. Steve, although the only pupil wearing a skirt that day, attracted less attention, and he kept his new found secret to himself, even when probed by Jeanette and Sarah about his absence. It was just too embarrassing.

He did feel the need to pee, but waited until lessons were over. As they walked into the sleeping quarters, he announced his intentions to Sarah. She looked a little pained, and held his arm for a moment, to speak to him, making sure none of the others were listening.

"What's the matter?" he asked her, with some irritation. "I only said I was going to use the toilet."

"I know," she said. "This is awkward." She bit her lip before continuing. "But since you and I are sharing, I've got to say it. When you pee, can you make sure you put the seat down when you've finished?"

It was a perfectly reasonable request, and, although he could not remember, it seemed entirely plausible to Steve that he had left the seat up that morning. Nevertheless, his faced creased at her words, and Sarah was astonished to see tears forming in his eyes.

"Oh God I'm sorry Steve!" she gasped. "I didn't mean to upset you!"

The realisation that never again would he be in a position to leave the seat up hit Steve hard, and he moved to go into his room. Sarah held onto his arm, still totally unaware of why he should be so upset. "What is it?" she asked. "Please Steve, tell me!"

He managed to free himself from her, and ran into his room. She followed him, as he collapsed on the bed in tears. She sat down next to him, and put her hand on his back. "Please Steve! Don't be so upset. You can leave the seat up if you want!"

"No I can't," he wailed. "Not any more. I've got to wee like a girl now!"

Sarah was nonplussed. "What do you mean?" she asked, thinking that this was another behavioural requirement from the Machine, like making sure Steve wore skirts all the time. "I don't think the Machine monitors us in there. You can wee how you like!"

"No I can't," he repeated, still sobbing, but turning around to look into her face. He had promised Karen that this would be their secret, but Sarah's inadvertent comment had got to him. "Look," he said, calming himself. "I'll tell you, but you've got to promise not to tell anyone else."

"Okay," she agreed, settling herself next to him as he sat up.
"The thing is," he confessed. "When Karen and I went off this morning, the Machine did something to us."

Sarah shook her head, not understanding the connection. "What?" she asked.

"It altered the way we pee," he said, blushing to himself. "I've not tried it out yet, but it says I've got to wee like a girl now. And I suppose Karen has to wee like a boy."

"But she can't," Sarah gasped. "She's not got a." She paused, and looked to the floor for a moment. "Well she's not got what a boy's got."
"The Machine thinks she has," Steve said bitterly. "So there you go. That's why I won't be leaving the seat up any more."
"Oh poor Steve!" Sarah said, in a consoling tone. "It must be awful for you! Well, not about the seat, but about the weeing."
He shrugged, and turned his face away to hide the new tears forming. "Well I haven't tried it yet. I've been too ashamed to go. But I have to now!"

"You mean you've been holding yourself in all day! Gosh Steve, you'd best sort it out now!"

He smiled thinly, and nodded, walking over to the door to the toilet he shared with her. He allowed the door to shut behind him, and sat himself down, pulling his knickers to his knees. His penis hung limp between his legs, and, as he prepared to go, he stared at it, praying that it would jump to life, as it had done on all the previous occasions he had urinated. But it was not to be. He felt a warm sensation between his legs, and the unmistakable trickling sound of wee falling down into the bowl. Oh God, it was true! He peed like a girl now! He shut his eyes in shame, and reached for some paper to wipe himself. There was no way he ever wanted Bryn or the others to know about this!

He walked back into his room. Sarah sat on the bed, looking expectantly at him. "Well?" she asked.

"It was all right," he said, choking on his words. "It works anyway."
"Oh poor Steve!" Sarah said again, reaching a hand out in comfort for him. His lips began to quiver again. Why was he crying so much these days?

"G8" the door announced.

"Jacquie," Sarah translated. "Shall I tell her to go away?"

"No," he said, moving to the door, "Let's see what she wants." He moved across to the door, and opened it.

"Hello Steve," Jacquie greeted him, smiling seductively as she did to all boys. At least she wasn't treating him as a girl yet, even if the Machine did. But if she found out how he weed! She looked over his shoulder, and saw Sarah sitting on his bed. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"What? No, come in," Steve blustered. Jacquie had that effect on all the boys, and she knew it. She waltzed in, swaying her hips and her long dark hair, and looked somewhat contemptuously at Sarah.

"I was wondering," she began languidly, "if you could show me that trick you did with the clothes last night. You know, making them different colours and styles and things."

Steve was astonished. Jacquie had never really paid him much attention before. They had spoken, of course, but over the past few years, for Bryn, Richard and himself, she had become the symbol of mystic femininity rather than a real person. They gossiped about her, and compared notes about her body, but they would rarely dare actually to speak to her. "Sure," he said, gathering himself together. "It's not difficult."

"I'd better go," Sarah said, standing up. She waited for a moment, for Steve to say she should stay. That he, unlike the rest of the boys, didn't think Jacquie was so far superior to her in looks and attractiveness, but he didn't. He just stood there, gawping at the other girl, and watching her move across to his Interface. Jacquie got everything she wanted by flirting. She didn't know any other way to interact with boys. Sarah had half thought that Steve might be different. He had seemed so much more approachable since he had been given a G number. But the familiar enthralled look was on his face. She walked past him, gave him a pitying look, and reached the door. She turned as she got there. "He showed me how to do it yesterday!" she announced proudly.

Jacquie vaguely smiled in her direction, and stood by the Interface, gesturing Steve to take the seat. He did so willingly. After all the ignominies inflicted on him over the past few days, the chance to have the attention of the best looking girl on the ship was too good to miss.

He quickly got into the design suite, and showed Jacquie some simple changes she could make to the outfits. She watched the screen with rigid attention, as Steve's little facsimile modelled a short black skirt, and then a longer one in pastel lilac. Steve wished that he had saved the little red mini dress they had been working on the night before. Perhaps he could have persuaded Jacquie to try it out. That would have been a coup that might just restore some of his credibility with the boys, getting Jacquie to wear a revealing dress! Before he could think how to recreate it, Jacquie demanded to have a go herself. She started with a simple black mini skirt, and then changed its colour to pink. The little model of Steve twirled on the screen in front of them, smiling with pleasure almost as much as Steve himself.

"That looks good on you," Jacquie observed, tilting her head to one side to observe the little 'steve' wearing the skirt. "Very good in fact, but I'm not sure I could wear something like that."

"Well, perhaps in a different colour," Steve suggested. He altered the skirt to a pale blue. His facsimile seemed equally pleased with this, and twirled around to show them it from all angles.

"Yes," Jacquie conceded. "That does look better. Mind you, you've got better legs than me."

"Oh that's nonsense," Steve protested. Jacquie looked at him, and smiled knowingly.

"Yours aren't so fat as mine," she explained. "That's why you look better in short skirts than me."

"I don't know about that," he mumbled. She smiled again, and turned her eyes back to the screen.

"Let's try out something for the evening," she suggested. "A posh dress or something like that."

Steve was all too eager to comply. He pulled out a selection of very elegant dresses, and selected one, floor length, and in what looked like silk. The default colour was cream, and his facsimile smiled again as it twirled around and around. "What colour do you think?" he asked.

Jacquie shrugged. "You choose," she said.

Steve turned back to the screen, and, working from the palate, chose a pale pink. The dress on his facsimile immediately transformed to his chosen colour. "That's nice," Jacquie cooed. Steve began altering the neckline and the bodice, imagining to himself, in spite of the evidence on the screen, that Jacquie herself would be wearing it. He lowered the neckline, so it showed an ample amount of cleavage.

"Ooh that's daring!" Jacquie gasped, and smiled. "You could get in trouble wearing something like that!" The little model of Steve seemed unperturbed by such considerations, as it flaunted itself to Jacquie and to Steve himself, with a broad smile on its face. "She seems pleased with it though," Jacquie continued, giggling a little.

"Who?" Steve asked.

"Her on the screen!"

Steve looked at the model. It had never occurred to him to view the facsimile as female, in spite of its preference for skirts and dresses, "But that's me!" he protested.

Jacquie looked at him quizzically, and shrugged. "You're really good at this dress designing you know," she went on. "You could make a living at it. Next time I fancy a really posh dress, I'm going to ask you to help, if you don't mind."

"I won't mind," Steve replied quietly. Jacquie flashed him another mind-blowing smile, and said that she was going to leave. Disappointed, he struggled to think of reasons why she should stay, but nothing compelling came to his mind.

"I'll get Gloria to come and have a look later, " she said from the door. She raised her hand to wave gently, smiled again, and left him. Steve sat himself down on the bed to recover from her visit. He had almost forgotten his weeing problem in the ecstacy of receiving a visit from Jacquie, but slowly, the ignominy of his situation returned to him. He was sitting in the girl's sleeping quarters, wearing a girl's learning uniform, the only one on the ship having to wear a skirt, and to top it all, he now weed like a girl! If Jacquie knew that, he thought, she wouldn't have visited him, or smiled at him like she had done.

The Machine told him that it was half an hour before the main meal. He would have to get changed. He went back to the Interface, where the little picture of himself was still amusing itself by circling round and round in its long silk dress. He could order that now, and turn up for dinner wearing it, he realised. Jacquie had seemed to like it, perhaps the other girls, even Karen, would as well. It was a tempting thought, curious as it was for a boy. He shook himself out of it however. It was absurd to think girls would like him in a posh frock! He chose instead a simple black skirt, and a round-necked white top. The Machine helpfully suggested he should wear tights, but he refused. He picked out a pair of flat black shoes, and ignored the various bra options it put to him. He climbed out of his Learning Uniform, and was shocked to see a spot of blood on his knickers. Probably the result of his operation that morning, he reasoned, and put them in for recycling with the other clothes.

His evening outfit was delivered, and he grimly put it on. Looking at himself in the mirror, he had a moment of doubt about picking a skirt that was quite so short. It ended a good few inches above his knee, hardly shorter than the pleated skirt of the uniform. Still, he mused, as he turned from side to side in front of the mirror, Jacquie had said that his legs were nice. He might as well make the most of it, seeing as he was bound to wear a skirt whatever happened.

The Machine announced that they should make their way to the Refectory, and, holding his head tall and proud, he opened his door, and went out into the common area, and along the corridors to the Refectory. He sat with Bryn and Richard for dinner that evening, but didn't really listen to their conversation. Sarah had seemed a little short with him when he had said hello, so he had decided not to join Jeanette and her. Karen nodded to him as she came in, and as usual, went over to sit with Mandy, and soon, he noticed, they were deep in conversation together. Karen's golden hair was tied back fiercely into a ponytail, and it bobbed when she nodded energetically at something Mandy had said.

"Here comes the pouf!" Bryn sniggered, when they had finished eating. It was their favourite nickname for Charles. They didn't really think he was gay, but it had always seemed so amusing to use it. The boy was walking nervously across towards them. He stopped beside Steve, and smiled anxiously.

"Can I have a quick word?" he asked.

Steve was surprised. Charles had always tried to avoid him in the past, afraid of his bullying. Still, Steve was bored with Bryn and Richard's attempts at repartee, and nodded. He stood, and followed Charles out into the corridor.

"What do you want?" he asked, a little unkindly.

Charles bit his full lips. Steve had never really noticed them before, but they were locked in what looked like a permanent pout. The only person he knew with similar lips was Jacquie's friend Gloria. No wonder Charles always looked a little feminine, with big pink lips like that! "This is difficult," the other boy said, looking up and down the corridor to make sure that they weren't going to be overheard. "I wanted to ask you a favour."

"Me?" responded Steve, finding it hard to imagine that Charles would ask him for anything.

Charles nodded. "I want the two of us to go and ask the Machine something."

Steve studied him carefully, and then smirked. "Well I'm not very good at that sort of thing," he said, remembering his visits with Karen. "You might be better off asking Linda. She's got a better track record than me."

Charles looked pained at this. "No," he said. "It has to be you. I want us to go and ask the Machine to swap us over."

"Swap us over?" Steve asked, not understanding.

Charles nodded earnestly. "Yes," he said. "I want to ask it to make me a girl, and make you back into a boy." Steve's eyes widened as he took in the other boy's request. "That's what you want, isn't it?" Charles continued. "To be a boy again?"

Steve nodded slowly. "And you want to be a girl?" he asked, incredulously.

Charles' face crumpled a little, and his eyes filled with tears. He nodded. "Yes," he said. "I've always wanted that."
Steve stared in wonder. It couldn't be true. How could a boy want to be a girl in the first place, let alone admit it? "Is this some sort of set up? Is it something you and Colin have cooked up between you?"

"No!" Charles protested, his face full of anxiety. He walked a couple of paces to one side. "You don't know what it's like," he went on quietly. "I've been so jealous of you over the last couple of days."
"Well you hid it well!"

"No I haven't! Why do you think I agreed to wear a skirt yesterday?"

Steve shrugged. "As part of the protest. You weren't the only one."

"But I was the first," Charles reminded him. "It seemed too good an opportunity to miss." The idea that wearing a skirt could be an opportunity was entirely alien to Steve. He shook his head.

"I was!" Charles insisted, misunderstanding Steve's gesture. "And I wore a dress for the evening as well, remember?"

"Yes you did," Steve replied at last. "But surely you don't want to be a girl? Not really. Nobody would."
"I do!" Charles insisted. "In fact, I think I am a girl, in spirit, anyway!"

Why did he use the word spirit? Steve's mind flashed back to his confrontation with the Machine, and he went cold. The Machine had said that his, Steve's, spirit was female, or 82% of it was anyway. It had also said that his was the most feminine spirit on the ship. He had never felt like he was a girl though, so Charles had to be wrong. "It's not as good as it seems, take it from me," he responded bitterly.

"But I have to do it!" Charles insisted.

Steve thought about this. The Machine was convinced that he was the most feminine person on the ship, far too feminine to be a boy. There was no way that it was going to allow Charles, who by definition had to be less feminine than him, take his place as G11. The Machine must have read Charles' spirit as well, when they were being assigned. It must have been perfectly content for him to continue as a boy. Charles' hope was doomed to failure.

He looked at the earnest face of the other boy. There seemed little doubt that his request was genuine, not a put up by Colin, or someone else to make Steve look even more stupid than he already did. He felt for Charles. He too, felt as if he was stuck in the wrong gender, in the Machine's mind at least. He sighed. "I don't think it will work, Charles," he said. "It's determined that I should be a girl. If it had wanted you to be one, it would have made you one on that first day."

Charles eyes watered again. "But what else can I do?" he exclaimed.

"Well you could go and see it. Tell it how you feel," Steve suggested. "I mean, it sort of understands this sort of thing up to a point. It might just be able to suggest something. But," he added, looking nervously up and down the corridor, "People are really going to take the piss out of you, you know, if they find out. It was bad enough for me, but I had to be a girl, I had no choice. If you try and do it of your own accord you'll be a laughing stock."

"I'll put up with it!" Charles said, defiantly. "So you don't want to swap?"

Steve sighed. "It's not a case of not wanting to," he explained. He certainly didn't want to reveal everything the Machine had said, especially about him being the most feminine person on the ship. "The Machine did say some things, when Karen and I went to see it," he began.

"Like what?" Charles demanded, urgently eager for information.
"Well," Steve said, wondering how to reveal the Machine's thinking, without giving away his own secrets. "It said that it chose people's gender by measuring their soul, not looking at their bits."

Charles looked heartened at his, and nodded eagerly for Steve to continue.

"It said that everyone's soul has got a bit of femininity, and a bit of masculinity. That sort of thing," he added vaguely. Charles nodded eagerly again. Steve continued. "And for some reason, it thinks that I've got a lot of femininity," Steve went on, blushing. "And that Karen's got a lot of masculinity, God knows why."

Charles nodded again. "Yes, I thought it must be something like that. I mean, the Machine's a bit odd at times, but it's normally got a logical reason for what it does. Stuart thought it might be something to do with spirits or souls or something, when we talked about it."
"You talked about this?" Steve asked

Charles looked a little worried. "Only to see what we could do to help! I didn't tell Stuart about what I wanted!" he protested. "Karen was there as well!" Steve raised his eyebrows in consternation. He wasn't sure he was comfortable about his gender being the subject of conversations around the boys' sleeping quarters. Charles continued. "So once I had figured that bit out, I just wondered if I could get the Machine to recognise that my spirit is female too!"

Steve looked at Charles, and shrugged. "You could try I suppose."

"But won't you help?" Charles asked, grabbing Steve's arm. "If you said you were prepared to be a boy again, to even things up, it might persuade it!"

Steve grimaced. Facing the Machine again, and posing the same questions as to the gender of his spirit would most likely reveal his score to Charles, and through him, to the rest of the ship. Still, the boy did seem genuine in his request. And maybe, just maybe, there was a slight chance that it might work. "Well all right," he muttered, freeing his arm from Charles' tight grip.

"Oh thanks Steve! I'll fix up a meeting as soon as I can!" Charles stood in front of him, smiling, and, for a moment, Steve thought he might try and kiss him, but he didn't. He continued to thank him profusely as they made their way back to the Refectory. When they got there, it was empty apart from Stuart and Peter, sitting alone at a table, and both reading books. Peter looked up when they walked in.

"Everything okay?" he asked. He was generally Charles' protector from the worse excesses of Steve's bullying, and had obviously seen the two boys leave the room together. He was checking whether his intervention was needed.

"Oh yes!" Charles responded effusively. "Come on, let's go and finish that game of cards."

Stuart and Peter folded their books carefully, and stood. Charles threw a smile at Steve as he left for the boys' sleeping area accompanied by his friends. Alone in the Refectory, Steve thought about what Charles had said. He had always wanted to be a girl? That seemed implausible, and yet he had always been a strange boy, a bit of a loner. That was why he had been such an easy target for Bryn, Richard and Steve to bully. Steve shook his head to himself, and walked off to his own sleeping quarters.

When he arrived, he realised he needed the toilet again. He decided this time that he would forewarn Sarah. He certainly didn't want her bursting in on him and seeing the new arrangements the Machine had made for him to urinate, even though he had confessed them to her earlier. He pressed on the panel by the door. There was no response. A little irritated, he reasoned that she was probably in Jeanette's room. Bypassing his own door, he pressed on the panel marked G9. After a few seconds, Jeanette answered the door, and immediately smiled widely at him, as if pleased to see him.

"Steve!" she said. "Come on in. It's my turn to be hostess tonight with the cocoa."

Steve was about to protest, but she ushered him in, and he walked obediently through the door, and said hello to Sarah, sitting on the bed. She still looked a little cold towards him. "Hi Steve," she said. "We knocked for you, but you were out."

"Yes. I was just talking to someone," he said.

"We wondered whether you were round at Jacquie's or something."

"Jacquie's? No, I was talking with Charles actually."

Sarah stared at him quizzically, as if hoping to see some signs of falsehood reflected in his eyes. "Really?" she asked, non-committally.

"I'll just get you a cup," Jeanette said brightly, walking across to her Interface.

"What did Charles want?" Sarah went on. "I didn't think you and he were friends."

"We're not. Not really." Steve said. "He just wanted to say how sorry he was about my problem, and to see how he could help."

"You mean you've told him about what the Machine did to you this morning?" Sarah asked, incredulously. Steve stared at her, and Jeanette stood, waiting for some revelation.

"What did the Machine do you this morning?" she asked. Steve and Sarah were both silent, bound by their vows of secrecy. "Come on," Jeanette urged. "Tell me! We are supposed to be friends after all!"

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Then Sarah spoke. "You can tell her if you want Steve. She's good at keeping secrets. It's up to you."

Jeanette's eyes turned to Steve, and fixed him, eyebrows slightly drawn, waiting for him to speak. "Tell me," she urged, quietly.

Steve felt himself blushing furiously. "Well all right," he said. "But you have to promise not to let anyone else know, because it affects Karen as well."

"Of course," Jeanette promised.

"Well, it sort of changed the way I pee," he stuttered.

"What do you mean?" Jeanette asked.

"It's made him pee like a girl!" Sarah put in. Jeanette looked briefly at her, and then back to Steve.

"But it can't do that! I mean, it can make you wear skirts and stuff, but it can't monitor how you do that, surely!"

Steve looked down at the floor. "It can," he said softly. "And it has. It did a little operation."

Jeanette's mouth fell open. "You mean you haven't got a Willy any more?"

Steve glared at her. Things weren't that bad. "No," he said. "I've still got a Willy thank you! It's just changed where the wee comes out." Jeanette stared at him in wonder, and he felt embarrassed by his revelation.

"Well at least it means he'll remember to put the seat down now," Sarah said, breaking the silence, and trying to create a bit of levity. Steve bit his lip, feeling the urge to cry once more.

"And at least you've still got your Willy," Jeanette said, in a consoling tone. "Mind you, I know boys can be really proud of the way they pee. It must be a bit of a shock."

"It is," Steve responded mournfully.

"I'm not sure I know what all the fuss is about though. I mean, you have to sit down to do the other thing anyway, don't you?" Jeanette went on, handing Steve his mug of cocoa. "Mind you, Sylvia's always been jealous of it, hasn't she Sarah?"

"Yes!" Sarah agreed, giggling. "When we were little, she used to try and practice doing it standing up!"

"I always thought that that was taking being a tomboy a step too far," Jeanette went on. "And it never really worked anyway."

"No," Sarah agreed.

Steve stared from one to the other, astonished by this revelation of the early life of the girls on the ship. He pictured it in his mind, Sylvia trying to wee like a boy. God, if Charles knew that, he'd be asking her to swap with him rather than Steve!

"Anyway, we were just talking about this!" Jeanette said, more brightly, and moving over to her Interface. She clicked a couple of buttons on the keyboard, and a message from the Machine appeared on the screen. "It's about a dance!" she said. "A formal dance, in three days time!"

"Yes, it's quite a good idea!" Sarah said, moving over to join her friend. With some reluctance, Steve moved over too.

"It says the boys have got to ask us to be their partners over the next few days," Jeanette explained. "We've got to say yes or no within twelve hours of being asked, and anyone without a partner on the morning of the dance will be allocated one!"

"Sounds stupid," Steve commented, grimly.

"No!" Sarah disagreed. "It's quite fun. I wonder who might ask me!"

"Well not Malcolm," Jeanette responded teasingly. "He'll ask Eddie won't he?"

Sarah pouted a little. "Well he can't," she said. "He has to ask a girl!"

Jeanette grinned. "Well perhaps Stuart will ask me. I might suggest it to him tomorrow when we're doing that project stuff!"

"That's a bit forward!" Sarah gasped, and the two of them giggled at the thought.

"I've just thought Steve, your dressmaking skills are going to be in demand!" Jeanette said. "I bet everyone will want you to put their outfits together."

"Oh yes," agreed Sarah. "Will you do mine?" Steve was still taking in the details of the formal dance, and looked blankly at her. "Please!" she added pleadingly.

"Oh, yes. Of course I will," he muttered.

"Oh poor Steve!" Jeanette suddenly said. "I bet you're wondering who might ask you!"

Steve grimaced at the thought. "Not really," he replied. "I don't think I'll be going."
"Oh but attendance is compulsory!" Sarah pointed out. "It says so. Look!"

"And so is formal wear!" Jeanette added. "That's why everyone will want you to design a dress for them!"

Steve's heart sank. It seemed that every time he had just about reconciled himself to the humiliation the Machine was heaping upon him, it came up with one more trick. The idea of a formal dance, of having to wear a long posh dress, and even worse, being escorted by a boy, filled him with absolute horror. "I might try and convince the Machine I'm sick," he muttered.

Sarah looked at him with curiosity. "But it'll be fun Steve! I can't imagine why you'd want to miss it!"
He stared back at her dolefully. "Because it means having to wear a dress, and be escorted by a boy," he muttered.

Sarah and Jeanette stared at each other. This obviously hadn't occurred to them, or if it had, they had thought it just a minor hiccup. "Perhaps you could get Karen to ask you?" Jeanette suggested.

"I think she's going to ask Mandy," Sarah said quietly. "I overheard Mandy saying something about it earlier." The two girls stared at Steve thoughtfully, obviously considering his problem.

"Well it doesn't really matter anyway," Jeanette said at length. "I mean, just because someone's your formal escort doesn't mean you have to stay with them all night!"

"No!" agreed Sarah brightly. "You just have to turn up with them, and have the first dance with them, or something like that."

"I'm not dancing with a boy!" Steve protested.

"Nobody will think anything of it," Jeanette responded. "Honestly they won't Steve! And once the first dance is over, you can join in the fun with us!"

"Yes!" agreed Sarah. "We can have a really good time of it!"

Steve pulled a face at them. The idea of having to wear a long dress, and dance with girls all night was hardly his preconceived idea of fun!" Jeanette insisted.

"I can't really dance," Steve protested.

"Oh I bet you can!" Jeanette answered.

"Yes. Anyway, we can always practice a bit beforehand!" put in Sarah.

Their eager faces beamed at him, and he felt their enthusiasm, even though he couldn't share it. "Well, we'll see," he replied.

"G8" the door announced.

"Jacquie?" Sarah said, looking at Jeanette. "I wonder what she wants."

Jeanette shrugged, and went over to the door.

"Hi Jeanette," Jacquie said, with exaggerated friendliness. "I'm sorry, but I was looking for Steve. Is he in here with you?"

"Yes," agreed, Jeanette, and after a meaningful pause, stood aside to let the other girl see.

"Hi Steve!" she said. "I'm not interrupting am I?"

"No," snapped Sarah, for the second time that day. "We were just talking about the formal dance."

"Oh right," Jacquie responded, absently, and then turned to Steve, smiling her most fetching smile. "Well that's good. That's what I wanted to ask you about."

Steve shrugged. "What can I do for you?"

Jacquie stayed by the door, but leant against it, thrusting one hip outwards. "Well I was hoping you might help me decide what to wear. If you have a minute, over the next day or so."

Steve stared at the girl, a vision of adolescent fantasy. Somehow he resisted the urge to jump to her request however, something that three days before, he would not have been able to manage. "I'm a bit tired now. Perhaps tomorrow."

Jacquie looked peeved for a moment, and then the fetching smile returned to her face. "All right then. I'll hold you to that." She turned to go before adding, "I think Gloria would appreciate some help as well."

"I'll see what I can do," Steve replied. The door whooshed shut again.

"I told you you'd be in demand!" Sarah said, smiling again partly in relief that Jacquie had gone. Steve grimaced He wasn't sure that he wanted to be known as the dress designer for the whole ship.
"Well I hope you'll have time to help Sarah and me work out what to wear as well!" Jeanette told him.

"Yes," Sarah agreed. "And don't forget yourself!"

"Me?" spluttered Steve.

"Yes. You can't design lovely frocks for everyone else, and not do one for yourself!"

"Heavens no!" Jeanette agreed.

"Well like I say, I'm not sure I'm going." Steve began. "And even if I have to, I'll wear something really plain and simple."
"Oh you can't do that!" Sarah protested. "Not when you're so good at choosing lovely colours and things!"

"No," Jeanette agreed. "If it was me, I'd make sure I had the prettiest dress there!"

"Yes," added Sarah. "If only to show Jacquie up for a start!"

Jeanette gave her a admonishing look, and then they both tittered. She was no fan of Jacquie either.

Conversation turned to Stuart, and whether he looked dashing in his Learning Uniform. Jeanette rather thought he did, although Sarah took the view that he looked better in casual wear. Steve offered no opinion, but slowly drank his cocoa, and then excused himself to get ready for bed. He mentioned to Sarah that he would be using the toilet, and she smiled at him, and nodded. He said his goodbyes, and went back to his room.

  

  

  

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