G11

by Sarah Bayen

Part Six

 

When the Machine sounded its fifteen-minute warning for breakfast the following morning, it made Steve jump. He was standing in front of the mirror, brushing his hair, having already showered and dressed. It wasn't so much the mechanical voice sounding out in his room that surprised him, as how quickly he had settled into his new routine. He had hardly noticed that he was changing out of a knee length pastel nightie, and into a white cotton blouse and pleated skirt. He had even taken some care to pick himself out a pair of knickers that he thought looked reasonable; reasonable that is in terms of appearance and comfort, rather than simply the least feminine of the choices on offer. They had a lilac lace trim, which he had thought was rather nice, until he stopped himself when he realised how ridiculous such an idea was for a boy to have.

He shuddered briefly, to remind himself that he should not get too comfortable in this new role. He had to find a way to make the Machine see sense, to reassign him as a B number, and return him to his birth gender. Going to the toilet brought home to him how much the Machine was changing him. Urination was now an act of shame as well as necessity. Thankfully Sarah didn't burst in on him sitting down like a girl, even though he hadn't bothered to warn her of his intentions.

As he made his way to the Refectory for breakfast, he was stopped once or twice by girls who begged him to help design their dresses for the forthcoming dance. He was non-committal in his answers. Anxious though he was for acceptance, he was a little put out that news of his alleged skills in this area had spread so quickly. He was somewhat relieved, when he reached his destination, to see Richard there, signalling that he should come over and join him.

"Wotcha," Richard greeted him. "You all right?" Steve wanted to shout that he wasn't. He was stuck being treated as a girl by the Machine, and isolated from all but the briefest contact with boys. He wanted to say that the Machine had robbed his penis of one of its functions, and that he now used the toilet like a girl. But instead he nodded, and sat himself down, smoothing his skirt as he did so, to make sure it didn't ride up too much.

"You should have been there for the football last night," Richard went on, oblivious to Steve's concerns. "I scored a fantastic goal." He went on to describe it in detail, how he had dummied around the static Colin and slammed the ball past Peter in the goal. Steve listened stoically to the no doubt exaggerated tale of his friend's prowess. "You don't play these days," Richard suddenly broke off to observe. "You should come along."

"I don't think so," Steve responded, remembering the hideous leotard the Machine had proffered him when he had asked it for sportswear, and blushing.

"But you used to enjoy it," Richard went on. Steve wished that he'd shut up. "It's not in the boys' area or anything, there's nothing to stop you."

"I just don't fancy it," Steve went on, biting angrily into his bread.

Suddenly Richard snickered to himself. "I've just thought," he said. "You can't wear any shorts or stuff like that can you?"

Steve felt himself blushing. "I haven't tried to get any, so I don't know." he lied.

"But you can't. Linda said yesterday! If the Machine catches you wearing trousers or shorts, then all the girls will have to wear skirts for lessons!"

"Shut up!" Steve snapped. "Like I said, I haven't tried."

Richard didn't take the hint. He was like a dog with a bone. "I wonder what it'd give you to wear instead," he mused, and then sniggered again. "Probably a leotard, or one of those little gym skirts the girls wear!"

"Shut up!" Steve repeated.

"Well it doesn't matter," Richard went on. "You could just take your skirt off and play like that if you wanted."

Steve glared at him. "So you think I'd want to play football in my underwear do you?"

Richard stared blankly back at him. "Well you could," he said, and then another revelation echoed itself on his face. "Oh I've just thought. You probably have to wear girl's knickers don't you? What are they like?"

"What do you mean, what are they like?"

Richard shrugged. "Well are they comfortable?"

"No," Steve snapped back. Richard was silent for a while, but his curiosity was clearly getting the better of him.

"Do you wear," he began, and then hesitated. He leant forward to whisper. "Do you wear those frilly nylon ones? Bryn says Jacquie does!"

Steve remembered the lilac lace trim on the pair he had picked that morning. "No I don't," he replied, so loudly that several people turned around to look at them. He locked his eyes onto his plate until their attention had disappeared elsewhere. "If you must know," he said. "I always choose really plain ones. They're unisex really."

"Unisex?"

"Yeah. They're just like boys' ones, more or less."

"Oh," Richard said, in acknowledgement. "And what about Jacquie, does she wear what Bryn said?"

"I don't bloody know," Steve replied. "You'll have to ask her yourself." He stood up, and took his plate back to the serving hatches for disposal, and stomped off to the first lesson, as Richard, and several others watched in surprise at his outburst.

Steve still felt petulant all through the morning's lessons. He deliberately avoided sitting with either Richard or Bryn, and ended up sharing a table with Linda, Gill and a girl called Jane. They were all wearing the new uniform trousers, together with blouses similar to Steve's. He rather peevishly felt that this was rubbing it in a little, but he knew really that they were just exercising their newfound freedom; a freedom he did not have. He glumly looked around the room, and saw that all the girls were in trousers, every single one. Yet again, he was the only person on the ship stuck in a skirt.

Back to feeling sorry for himself, he paid little attention to the lesson. It was computing anyway, which was far from his favourite subject. After a short break, it was art. Steve liked this, and lost himself in producing a picture of an old Earth landscape, complete with purple-headed mountains, rivers and cloud formations, which he had only ever seen in computer recordings. He had often wondered what living on a planet might be like. His parents had been very young when they had left the dying Earth. He guessed really experiencing it would be rather different than just listening to stories, and somewhere in his future he would experience it. Planetfall; they had all been brought up to look forward to it as a New Dawn. It seemed so remote and distant to him then, but suddenly he realised that remote as it was, it may offer his best chance of escape from his new female role. Yes, it was bound to happen. His parents and grandparents would be reawakened, and would give short shrift to the Machine and its ridiculous diagnosis of him.

But it was so long in the future. It would be another fifteen years or so before he could join his parents in their long sleep. Would he really have to live those fifteen years as a girl? If so, by the time he went into the cryogenic chamber, he would have spent over half his life in skirts and dresses! He would have forgotten what it was like to wear trousers, to play football, or to gather in small groups, wondering whether they could look up girl's skirts. He shuddered at the thought.

"That looks nice." He jumped at the sound of the calm voice behind him. It was Karen. As he turned, her waist was at the same height as his eyes, and all he could see was the metal zipper on the front of her trousers. "I like the sheep. It's a nice touch."

"I've given them some lambs; like it's spring," Steve explained, turning his head sideways to view the mountainside he had created.

"Have you heard about this dance thing?" Karen asked.

Steve froze. He had dreamt about this moment the night before. In his dreams, Karen had asked to be his escort, and had walked him to the Commons Area, holding his slim arm crooked into hers. "Yes," he whispered.

"The boys are all in a tizz about it," she went on. "Trying to work out who to ask and stuff like that."

He felt his breath racing, and held his paintbrush poised, as if to add some new brushstrokes to his work. "Really?" he replied, trying to seem casual and uninterested.

"Yes. I'm not all that keen on the idea," she went on. "We're going to have to wear stiff suits, and ties."

"Oh dear," Steve commented, and cursed himself for blushing once more.

"I hear you're going to be designing most of the dresses though. Mandy told me."

He blushed still further. "Well they seem to think I've got a knack for it." He absently began to improve one of his clouds a little, feeling the warmth of Karen's breath on his neck.

"Has anybody asked to be your escort yet?" she asked. Damn, he thought, this was it. This was where she asked to be his escort, and, in spite of the fact that it would mean turning up to the dance wearing some stupid frock, he would have to say yes.

"No," he said, evenly. "I'm not sure I'll go. I might try and convince the Machine I'm poorly or something."

"Oh you shouldn't do that," Karen went on. "It'll be fun, and God knows we haven't had much fun recently."

"Maybe not," Steve said, trying to leave her space to ask the question he was dying for her to pose.

"Well I've fixed myself up with Mandy," Karen said matter-of-factly. Steve's heart sank. So much for dreams, he thought. "It saves a lot of bother really." Karen continued, and then she saw something she didn't understand in Steve's face. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes of course!" Steve replied with false brightness. "Damn, this cloud looks wrong."

"It looks all right to me," Karen observed. She saw that Steve's brush was trembling in the air, and wondered what might have caused it.

"By the way," she went on. "I hear you and Charles are going to see the Machine today. He says he might have thought of some way of helping you out or something. Do you know anything about it?"

"Not really," Steve replied. Charles would have wanted his desire to be a girl to be a secret, and Steve was determined that it should stay that way, or at least until the unlikely event of it coming true made it sensible to reveal.

"Well he must have said something." Karen insisted.

"Not anything I understood," Steve replied, applying more touches to his cloud. "I just said I'd go along to give him support."

Karen mused on his reply. "Well it's good of him to try and help, especially after all the grief you and Richard used to give him."

"Yes," agreed Steve, frantically turning his cloud a little stormy.

"Well don't forget about me, if he's thought of a way out of this," Karen went on. "I'll see you later."

"Yes, bye!" Steve responded, and was relieved to hear the girl's footsteps get further away. He felt himself shaking all over, and, glancing around himself to make sure no-one else was staring at him, decided he'd better go off to the toilets until he calmed down. He knew from bitter experience that he couldn't gain access to the boys', so he went out of the art room door, and just down the corridor to wear the girls toilets were. He shut himself into one of the cubicles, and leant backwards against the stall door, with his eyes shut.

How could Karen have been so unfeeling? She knew that she should have asked to be his escort, she must have done! They were the only ones who had been incorrectly assigned to their genders, so he would have been the natural choice for her. She must have thought about it, and having thought about it, rejected the idea, and through that act, rejected him. He felt very forlorn for a moment, and his lips pouted out from his face. Life just seemed so unfair!

He had been locked in there for a few minutes when he heard the door to the corridor open. Damn, someone else must have decided to come in. He was even more embarrassed when he heard Jeanette's voice. "Is that you Steve? Are you all right?"

"Yes," he replied as brightly as he could. "I'm just finishing!"

Jeanette slipped into the stall next to him, and for the sake of show, Steve made a point of flushing the toilet, and going across to wash his hands. "Wait for me!" he heard Jeanette calling. She too flushed the toilet, and came over to the wash basins

"Guess what!" she said, with bright eyes, and a grin fixed on her face. Steve shook his head. "I think Stuart is going to ask to be my escort!" she exclaimed, her eyes dancing with excitement.

"What makes you think that?"

"I heard him talking to Charles about it. They were trying to think who to ask, and Charles suggested me!"

"What did Stuart say?"

"He said he thought it was a good idea! I can't wait! He'll probably ask me this afternoon! God, I really will need your help putting an outfit together now Steve! You will help won't you?"

Steve smiled, genuinely pleased for her. He might have to do without an escort, but there was no reason why she should. "Of course I will," he replied. "Has Sarah heard any news?"

Jeanette shook her head. "No. I don't think Malcolm or Eddie can get their heads around it. They'd like to ask each other, of course, but it's not allowed. Anyway, I don't think they want us all to know that they're an item."

"Well perhaps someone else will ask her," Steve suggested.

"Maybe," Jeanette agreed, looking thoughtful. "Still, she really ought to start liking someone else. It's not fair on Malcolm, and it's not fair on her."

"No," agreed Steve.

"Come on, we'd best get back!" Jeanette spent a couple of minutes arranging her shoulder length brunette hair, before they both went back to the Art Room. Jeanette stopped him by the arm before the entered however. "I forgot to ask," she said. "Has anyone asked you yet? I saw Karen talking to you before."

"No," he said. "Don't be silly. No one would want to be my escort would they? It would be ridiculous."

"Oh," Jeanette said, looking thoughtful. "Well if you don't get asked, then the Machine's going to nominate someone for you. I suppose it could be quite fun getting a surprise on the night!"

"More like a shock," Steve grumbled. "Especially for them. They'd be hoping for someone nice and pretty, and they'd end up with me!"

"But you're pretty!" Jeanette protested. He looked at her for a moment. Did she mean that, or was she having him on? Handsome, he could have coped with, but not pretty. She sensed his discomfort. "Well you are," she went on. "Just as pretty as me, anyway." He pulled a bit of a face at her, and opened the door back into the Art Room.

The rest of the morning was relatively uneventful. Most of the boys went off to play football at lunch break. Steve sat himself down in the common room with a book he had found on landscape painting. He had hardly started on it, when Charles came scurrying across to him. "I can't stop long!" he whispered. "But I thought I'd better tell you I've fixed for us to go and see the Machine after Learning Time this afternoon."

"Oh, right," Steve replied. He wasn't really looking forward to another confrontation with the Machine, he had to admit. Not only was he fairly certain that it would be fruitless, but also he was worried that it might spill some of his secrets to Charles, and therefore to the rest of the ship. Charles smiled at him, and then went off with Stuart and Peter to one of the labs, where as far as Steve knew, they practiced some bizarre form of alchemy. He went back to his book, and picked up some useful tips for the picture he had been working on that morning.

Although the afternoon's lessons were hardly inspiring for him, he dreaded them ending in a way. He would have to go off with Charles and share in his fruitless quest to become a girl. The last lesson ended, and he waited apprehensively for Charles to come over to him. Instead, however, it was Bryn who approached him first.

"Wotcha," the other boy said.

"Bryn," Steve acknowledged.

"Playing football?"
"No,"

"You never play these days.""

"Well it's difficult."
"Yeah, Richard told me about the knickers."

Steve raised his eyes to the ceiling. Was no secret safe on this bloody ship? "Well I've got something else to do," Steve went on. "Maybe tomorrow." Bryn shrugged.

"I'll play," they both heard, and turned to see the source of the voice. It was Karen.

"You?" Bryn spluttered.

"Yes me," she said firmly. "I can't join in with the girls any more, so I might as well give this football thing a go. You all seem to like it."

Bryn looked at her appraisingly, and, after a few moments shrugged. "Okay," he said, "but we won't make any allowances for you because you're just a girl."

Karen winked at Steve before replying. "And I won't make any allowances for you because you're all just boys." Steve smiled at his. Karen was a good two or three inches taller than Bryn, and it did seem a little preposterous that the thin blond figure of his friend would have to make allowances for the tall elegant figure of Karen. She, and the rest of the boys, left through their entrance to go and get changed.

He looked across the room, and saw Charles waiting nervously by the far wall. Sighing to himself, he stood, and walked over to him. "Are you ready?" he asked. Charles nodded, and led the way along the corridor to the room Karen and he had attended two days before. When they got to the door, he grabbed Charles' arm.

"What goes on in here is just between you and me, all right?" he said.

Charles looked surprised. "Yes of course," he replied. "I don't want everyone to know that I want to be a girl. Not yet, anyway." Satisfied, Steve nodded, and allowed Charles to press the panel to open the door. They walked through, and took their seats as the screen flickered, and the face of the Other appeared on the screen.

"Greetings B14 and G11," it lip synched to the Machine's metallic tones. "How may we be of assistance?"

Charles looked uncomfortably nervous. "Thank you for seeing us," he began. The face on the screen made no response, so he felt compelled to continue. "We've come to talk to you about our gender assignments."

The Machine chuntered and whirred to itself. "We have discussed this with G11 before," it stated blankly. "The position has not changed."

"Yes it has!" Charles insisted. "There's some new information that you should have."

The Machine clicked a few times and then replied. "Please state this new information."

Charles looked nervously across at Steve, and then back to the screen. "The new information is that I would like to be a G number," he said. The face made no response. "It's true!" he insisted. "I've always felt like a girl, and now I know that you can make me one, I want to do it! Like you have for Steve!"

There was a cacophony of whirs and clicks from the Machine while the face stared blankly at them. Eventually it formatted its response. "Your wishes are noted," it said.

Charles looked at Steve again, who shrugged. He had no idea how to get the Machine to see the urgency of the situation.

"But I want you to do it now!" Charles went on. "It's important to me."

"It's conducive to his happiness," Steve suggested.

The Machine whirred and chuntered away to itself for several seconds before replying. "We have reviewed the data on your gender assignment," it said. "It is our view that B14 could achieve equal happiness as a male or female."

"Then I choose to be female!" Charles shouted. The Machine took some time to respond.

"That is not possible," it replied.

"Why?" the boy demanded. The Machine whirred and clicked some more.

"In small populations it is important to maintain a gender balance," it went on at last. "B and G numbers must be kept in balance to maximise breeding potential."

"But what if I agreed to swap with someone?" Charles demanded. Steve was pleased that Charles, at least, seemed to be understanding some of the longer words the Machine insisted on using. Perhaps he should pay as much attention in Literature as he did in Art. The Machine clicked and hummed to itself.

"That may be acceptable," it responded at last. Steve sat up in his seat. This could be it. Charles, for all his faults, perhaps had beaten the Machine, and found a way for him to get back to boyhood.

"Then I'll swap with Steve here, G11!" Charles stated triumphantly. They both swapped huge grins, and then looked back to the screen for confirmation. Steve was astonished. He had thought that this mission had no hope, and suddenly, with seeming ease, all the barriers that had stood in his way had been removed.

Then the bombshell. "That is not possible," the Machine intoned. "G11 can only achieve happiness as a female."

Both their mouths fell open as they looked at the face on the screen. "But that can't be right!" Charles exclaimed. "He doesn't even want to be a girl!"

"G11's desires are confused by the misdiagnosis of gender at birth," the Machine went on. "This will pass."

"But what about me?" Charles wailed. "I'm the one who wants to be a girl!"

The Machine considered this for a moment. "Gender balance must be maintained," it stated. "You must find another G number with whom to swap. Their masculinity rating must be in excess of 66%."

"But why can't I swap with him? G11?" he screamed.

"G11's masculinity rating is insufficient," the Machine intoned. "Only those G numbers with a masculinity rating of 66% or greater can be considered for reassignment to B number status. Only those B numbers with a masculinity rating of 33% or less can be considered for reassignment to G number status."

Charles looked from the screen to Steve, and then back again. "And what's my masculinity rating then?" he demanded. The Machine whirred again, looking back at its data files.

"31%" it stated at last.

Charles looked hurt, and momentarily confused by the concepts. "So G11's masculinity rating is less than mine?" he asked, a little petulantly.

"Yes," the Machine went on emotionlessly. "Your masculinity rating is significantly larger than G11. G11 has the lowest masculinity rating of the entire ship."

Charles stared at Steve in wonder, and only slightly hidden envy. Steve himself was in a paroxysm of shame. He had known that the Machine would spill the beans about its diagnosis of him if they came along like this. Now his lack of masculinity, in the Machine's eyes at least, was out in the open, and to Charles of all people. The boy who had told him that he wanted to be a girl! The Machine had calmly told him that he, Steve, was nowhere near as masculine as him!

"There are four potential candidates amongst the G numbers," the Machine went on, unprompted. "We would consider all able to achieve happiness as female or male."

Charles looked at the screen in renewed amazement. "Who?" he asked.

The Machine clunked before replying. "G2,G4, G5, and G15."

Charles looked to Steve for clarification. He wracked his brain, trying to remember who had what bedroom, and what number on the door, in the girls' sleeping quarters.

"Linda, Sandra, Sylvia, and Gloria!" he said at last, fairly sure that he had got the list right.

"Gloria?" Charles asked in amazement. Steve too, was puzzled by the inclusion of Jacquie's friend and sidekick in this list. She hardly seemed the epitome of masculinity to him, usually wearing short skirts and make up, and with her blonde bobbed hair. The others were perhaps less of a surprise. Sylvia, like Karen, was tall and well built. Sandra, her friend, seemed permanently angry at the world, and particularly its male inhabitants. He could believe that she too had a high masculinity score. Linda was a surprise inclusion too. Although she had led the protest about wearing trousers during lessons, Steve had just regarded her as a typical one of the girls. He shrugged at Charles, who was still staring at him open mouthed.

"Is there anything else?" the Machine asked them.

"No," Charles replied. "Thank you."

The face on the monitor contorted for a moment, something Steve had never seen it do before. He suddenly realised that it was supposed to be a smile of some sort. He watched it, flabbergasted, before it faded away to nothingness. They left the room before speaking.

"Steve, I'm so sorry!" Charles said, taking the other boy's arm. Steve looked at him puzzled. "I didn't realise," he hesitated. "I didn't realise you were so feminine inside! It must have been horrible for you to listen to me moaning about being a boy!"

"I'm not that feminine," Steve spluttered, throwing Charles' friendly grip aside. "The Machine's probably got its sums wrong or something."

Charles watched him flout away across the corridor, his skirt flapping in the air as he folded his arms across his chest. "Maybe," he said, wondering why he hadn't noticed the girl in Steve before.

"Anyway," Steve went on. "Remember we promised not to say anything about this?"

"Yes of course," Charles said, and then bit his lip for a moment. "Still, it looks as if there's some hope for me. If I can persuade any of those four to swap that is."

"Do you think you can?" Steve asked, pleased that the conversation had turned away from him for a moment.

"I can only try!" Charles said, boldly. "Maybe if I asked to escort one of them to the dance or something, I could talk to them about it."

Steve thought about this. "You'd have to be careful how you raised it. I can't see any of them being pleased if you just said that they'd make a better boy than you."
"No," Charles agreed, smiling at the thought. "But I could sort of probe a bit, see if they have any feelings like me. Who do you think I should start with?"

Steve thought about this. "Well," he began. "You could try Sylvia. Someone told me she always wanted to pee like a boy when she was little. Maybe that's a sign."

"It could be!" Charles responded enthusiastically. "I always used to sit down." His voice became conspiratorial. "I still do sometimes."

Steve looked at him with mixed feelings. He sat down all the time now, and not through choice. "Well best of luck if you do ask her," he said. Charles smiled back at him.

"Actually, until just then, I was going to ask if I could escort you," he said.

Steve stared at him in amazement. "Me?"

Charles nodded. "I sort of thought nobody else would ask you, and I don't really fancy any of the girls anyway."

"Well I'm probably going to give it a miss," Steve replied, still surprised at Charles' confession.

"Well," the other boy said slowly. "You won't mind if I ask Sylvia instead then?"

"God no! Not at all!" Steve assured him. Charles smiled at him warmly again, and they made their way back to their respective sleeping quarters.

Steve's arrival through the arch was greeted by a gaggle of girls demanding that he help design their dresses. All of them wanted to start there and then, and, when he refused, demanded appointments for that evening. Steve felt crowded and pressurised, and simply wanted to get to his room to do some thinking. The girls organised his rota for him, as he passively stood there. He would start with Jacquie, in ten minutes time, and then, after the evening meal, would move on to Gloria, Nicola and Lynne.

Pleased to be free of them, if only temporarily, Steve went into his room, and allowed the door to shut. He undid the buttons on his blouse, and took it off, sitting down at the Interface to decide what to wear for the evening. Out of petulance, he tried to order himself some trousers, a floral pair that came up under the general choices for girls. "This option is not available to G11 at the current time," the screen patiently told him.

One of the things that were worrying him was that when he wore anything with an open neck, it made it sort of look as if he had boobs. Even the uniform blouse had something of that effect. He found quite a pleasant high-necked sweater, which was in default pink. He quickly altered it to white, and clicked to order that. The Interface waited for his choice of skirt. He picked out a calf length skirt, and changed it from blue to black, before confirming his choice. He took of his school skirt and shoes, and threw them into the recycling chute.

A few whirs and clicks later, and his outfit was delivered. He pulled the top over his head, and fastened the skirt around his waist. The Interface had remembered his preference for plain, flat shoes, and, relatively pleased with this, slipped into them. He had hardly finished, when the door announced that Jacquie had come for her appointment.

He let her in, and they went over to the Interface, and started work. Steve offered her the seat, but she insisted that he sit there, since he would be doing most of the designing. They tried out a few ideas, and the little facsimile of Steve tried them all on with alacrity, turning and twirling to show them how it would look.

"Well that looks good on you," Jacquie mused, seeing one particular dress. "It might not suit me quite so much."

"We could always go to your room to see," Steve suggested. "We'll need to do that to get it ordered in the right size anyway."

"No it's all right," Jacquie said dismissively. "You can always mail me the design, and I'll see it on the model of me. Just for now, can you just give your model longer hair? Just to check?" Steve stared at her. He was reluctant to make his little facsimile look even more feminine. It was like an admission of his fate. "Go on!" she urged.

Steve decided to comply. He was still enough of a boy to find resistance to Jacquie's requests difficult.

He clicked on a few options, and immediately the hair on his model grew. He lengthened it to an approximation of Jacquie's long tresses, and then lightened the colour a little, from his dark brown, to her slightly lighter tones. "That looks good," Jacquie said, nodding. "Okay, mail me that, and I'll get it made up after dinner."

Steve opened the mail function. "Oh look!" Jacquie said, "You've got two new messages." Steve saw that she was right. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "They're requests to escort you to the dance! You must open them!"

Steve was both astonished, and acutely embarrassed. It was bad enough that a pair of jokers had decided to ask to escort him; it was even worse that this should be revealed to Jacquie. "Who are they from?" she asked, with genuine interest.

He clicked on the first. It was from Colin. The Machine had obviously provided some sort of proforma to the boys for this, and he quickly read through this, down to the personalised message at the bottom. Jacquie had obviously done the same, as she giggled to herself. "That's sweet!" she said.

He read the message. "To the prettiest girl on the ship. Please let me escort you to the dance." Blushing, he clicked on the reject response, and the message disappeared.

"Why did you do that?" Jacquie asked him in surprise.

"I don't want to be escorted by him!" Steve snapped back.

Jacquie shrugged. "Well who's the other one from then?"

Steve checked. It was from Richard. He read the message. "Sorry about this. I just thought I should ask you in case no one else did. Regards Richard."

"Well that's not very romantic!" Jacquie gasped.

"Just as bloody well," Steve added, and went to reject this as well.
"Don't do that!" Jacquie exclaimed, grabbing his hand. "What you're supposed to do is wait until nearer the time, and then decide. That's what Gloria and I are going to do. I've got four already!"

The Machine informed them that it was time to make their way to dinner. Jacquie thanked Steve by kissing him on the forehead, and then left. He stood, and made his way to the Refectory, still being pestered for further design sessions by the other girls.

He was therefore pleased to see that Richard and Bryn had saved him a place at their table. Shrugging off the attentions of Janet and Ellen, he made his way over and sat down.

"Nice skirt," observed Bryn, with a sly grin on his face.

"Oh shut up!"

Richard was moaning quietly, and rubbing the front of his shin. "What's up with you?" Steve asked.

"He got clattered by Karen in the football!" Bryn observed with some glee. "She's bloody good you know!"

"It was a foul!" Richard complained.

"She just pushed you out of the way as if you weren't there!" Bryn responded. "It didn't look like a foul to me, just brute strength."

"She is bloody strong, I'll give you that," Richard went on, still rubbing his bruised leg.

Karen came in at that point, and smiled at the three of them. "Are you all right Richard?" she asked, with exaggerated concern. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just going for the ball."

"No it's fine," Richard replied. Karen smiled again, and walked across the room to her seat next to Mandy. "I'll get her next time!" he whispered.

The meal itself passed without incident, although Steve was embarrassed further by Colin very deliberately winking at him as they went to dispose of the plates. He probably hadn't received his rejection yet, Steve thought. He had sat back down with Bryn and Richard when Karen came across to them again. "Come on then boys," she taunted. "Shall we play more football then?"

Richard grimaced, and rubbed his leg again. "Not me," he muttered.

Bryn hesitated. "All right, I'm up for it, but take it easy this time!"

Karen shrugged, smiled and said. "I'll do my best."

They, and a gaggle of other boys left the room. Richard had his console with him, and began shooting aliens with it, while Steve watched. He wasn't left in peace for long however, as Gloria came over to him, obviously eager for her session on the dress designing. Steve watched her as she approached. She was wearing a denim mini skirt, with black tights, and a cropped top that showed off her belly. Her blonde hair was curled elaborately into ringlets, and she was wearing more make up than the rest of the girls put together. How could the Machine reckon she had a spirit that was at least 66% masculine? It just didn't make any sense.

Richard noticed her approach, and his eyes, Steve noticed, fell immediately on her breasts. "Are we ready then Steve?" she asked.

Like Jacquie, she was difficult to say no to. With a brief goodbye to Richard, Steve followed her off to the girls' sleeping quarters, and through to his room. He sat down by the Interface, and flipped the monitor on.

"Oh is that what Jacquie's going to wear? Or is that for you?" Gloria asked, looking at the little mannequin of Steve, wearing its posh long dress, and still twirling round and around with a blissful look on its face. Before he could reply, she went on. "Oh, have you been seeing what you'd look like with longer hair then?" He glanced at the screen. He had forgotten that he had lengthened his hair on it to match Jacquie's, and quickly tried to correct it back to mirror his own. "Don't do that!" Gloria protested. "You look better with your hair longer."
"I just did it so it looked a bit more like Jacquie," he stuttered.

"Yeah, we'd all like hair like hers!" Gloria said with sympathy, misunderstanding his excuse.

"No," Steve stuttered by way of explanation. "I meant I just altered it so she could see what it looked like."

Gloria looked at him puzzled, and he decided against any further attempts to justify the longhaired version of himself she had seen on the screen. They got on to designing Gloria's dress. She was determined to have something short and revealing, and again Steve was struck by the oddity of the Machine thinking she was so masculine in spirit. He complied with her wishes, and soon the little version of himself was wearing a strapless pale blue dress that to him at least, was nearly indecent.

"Well put some tights with it!" Gloria told him. He hesitated. He had never made his little mannequin put on tights, and it seemed dangerously close to accepting its status as a girl. "Come on," she urged. "Let's see what it looks like with fishnets!"

He winced a little at the thought, but complied with her wishes, and suddenly his little figurine was wearing them, and, he had to admit, looking extremely pleased with itself.

"Not bad," Gloria commented.

"I'll, err, make its hair a bit more like yours," he suggested, stammering a little.

"Okay," Gloria agreed.

He altered the figure's hair to blonde, and selected a blonde curly style that was a pretty close approximation to that of the girl sitting next to him. The figure beamed in ecstacy at the change, and seemed to flirt outrageously as it spun around and around on its little pedestal.

"I like it!" Gloria commented. "Let's get it made up shall we?"

Steve smiled at her. "Well I'll have to mail it across to you first, so you can get it made up in your size."

"G7" the door announced.

"That'll be Janet for her appointment." Steve commented. Gloria looked at him oddly, in a way he couldn't understand. She was silent for a moment, and then smiled broadly.

"Let's make it up here!" she said.

"But it'll be in my size then, not yours." Steve pointed out.

"That's all right, you can try it on!"

"Me?"
"Yes! If I see it on you, I'll get a better idea of what it looks like!" Gloria seemed enthused by her idea. "Come on, just click the button!"

"I should let Janet in."

"Sure, she can see it as well."

Steve was feeling flustered by Gloria's request. He stumbled across the room to the door, and opened it. "Come on in," he said to his former next-door neighbour. "I'm just finishing with Gloria."

Janet looked dubiously over his shoulder at the other girl standing by the Interface. "He's just going to try on what he's put together for me!" she said brightly.

"I don't know about that," Steve blustered. "Your time's up really Gloria."

"Oh I don't mind waiting," Janet said, unhelpfully. "Come on, let's see what you can do."

Steve blushed, as he tried to think of other ways of dissuading Gloria from her desire to see him model her outfit. He was only half way to formulating anything at all, when she leant forward, and pushed the create button on the screen.

"Place existing clothes into recycling chute first," the screen told them.

"Well come on then!" Gloria insisted.

Reluctant, but unable to see any other way out, Steve unbuttoned his skirt, and let it fall to the floor. "Nice knickers!" Janet commented with a smile. "I've never chosen them, they're a bit fussy for me!"

"Nice though," Gloria agreed.

Grimacing, Steve pulled his top off, and placed it in the recycling chute with the skirt, and his shoes. The Interface chuntered a little, as it swallowed his offerings. He stood by the delivery chute waiting for the ghastly outfit Gloria had chosen to be delivered.

"It says it wants your bra," Janet observed, reading the screen.

"Oh that's right," Gloria put in. "You'll need a strapless bra to go with that dress, obviously."

Flushing crimson, Steve looked frantically around the floor for the bra he had habitually thrown aside that morning. He eventually found it, and placed it into the disposal chute. The Interface ate this, rumbled a little, and then delivered the selected outfit into its delivery chute.

"Come on then, get it on!" Gloria urged him. Trembling, he picked up the bundle, and shook out the dress. "Well put the new bra on first!" said Gloria.

Trembling, Steve placed the dress down on his bed, and picked up the bra. It was a pale blue, matching the dress, and had stiff little cups, and no shoulder straps. He looked at it helplessly. He had never had to put on a bra before. The only time he had worn one, the Machine had forcibly put it on him. He could not fathom how a garment such as the one he held might go on.

"Do you want any help?" Janet asked. He looked up at her, and nodded. Smiling, she took it off him, and lifted his arms up, before putting her own arms around him, and fastening it at the back. He felt as if an iron ring had clasped his chest, and struggled to breathe against it.

"You'll have to get used to putting on a bra, if you're going to be a girl!" Janet observed, grinning at his discomfort. He flushed even deeper.

"Well I'm not going to be a girl for very long," he muttered.

"Get the tights on as well," Gloria demanded, picking up the dress, and examining it intensely. "What do you think Janet? Do you think it's too short?"

Janet walked over to Gloria, and held the other side of the dress. "Well it's certainly daring," she said. "You might get away with it, but all the boys are going to stare."

"That's the general idea," Gloria admitted, sniggering to herself.

Steve picked up the fishnet tights, and began stepping into them. They felt odd against his skin, as he yanked them carelessly up his legs. He looked down at them grimly, knowing that they were hardly straight. The two girls were still locked in conversation about the merits or otherwise of the blue dress.

"Well we might as well see what it looks like," Gloria said, and turned around to hand the dress to Steve. She stopped for a moment, looking at his legs. "You've not done that very well!" she complained.

"Well I haven't worn tights before," he muttered sullenly.

"Yes you have!" Janet piped in. "I made you put mine on a couple of years ago, when I got you to dress up in that fairy costume, don't you remember?"

The memory came flooding back to Steve, and he blushed. Janet had got herself a fairy costume for some fancy dress affair their parents had organised, and a day or two before had decided it would be a real laugh for Steve to try it on. He hadn't been too keen, but had acquiesced in the end.

"Anyway I suppose it doesn't matter too much," Gloria said, handing the dress over. "Put this on." He took it, and began to slip it over his head. "Not like that!" Gloria moaned at him. "It's strapless remember, you have to step into it, not pull it down!"

Meekly, he did as he was told, and stepped into the dress, before pulling it up over his hips. He pulled the top over his bra, and immediately Gloria stepped forward to fuss with it, pulling and tugging at it here and there, to get the effect she wanted.

"It looks pretty good," Janet said thoughtfully, as she circled around Steve, who felt unusually vulnerable in his new outfit.

"Yes," agreed Gloria. "It's not bad is it? I can see the boys falling for whoever wears it anyway."

"I think you're right there." Janet agreed.

The two girls stared at him for some time. Eventually Gloria pronounced her verdict. "Yes, I think that'll do. Mail it over to me Steve, and I'll get it made up in my size and try it on." She smiled. "Good. Thanks, I'll see you later."

With that, she walked across the room and left, leaving Steve alone in his blue mini dress with Janet. He hung his head in shame as the girl continued to appraise his new look. "Sorry about that," she said at last.

"Sorry about what?"

"About reminding you of the fairy costume," she explained. "I've been feeling guilty about it recently, that's why it was on my mind."
"Guilty?"

"Yes. I just wondered if the Machine had monitored us when we were doing it, and that's why it decided that you're a girl."

Steve thought of the Machine, and it's assertion that his spirit was 82% female. The fact that he had once let Janet dress him up as a fairy seemed unlikely to have swayed its decision, any more than his inadvertent kiss with Richard might have done. "I doubt it," he said, mournfully. "I'll just get changed, and we'll get on with sorting you out."

Janet looked at her watch. "We're already late. Ellen will be here in a few minutes. Can't we just get on with it, there's no need for you to change."

Steve hesitated. He desperately wanted to get out of the revealing blue mini dress he was modelling, and even more so the strapless bra that clasped his chest. But he could see the logic in what Janet was saying. Anyway, even if he did change, it would have to have been into another skirt or dress. He nodded, and sat himself down at the Interface once more.

Janet was more choosy than his previous customers had been. They hadn't really made much progress when the door announced the arrival of Ellen. Janet went over and let her in. "Oh my God, is that what you're going to wear?" she gasped, when she saw Steve.

"No," he protested. "I was just modelling it for Gloria."

Ellen looked him over, paying particular attention to his legs, and the wonky fishnet tights. "Well, I suppose it is her sort of thing," she agreed. "But it looks pretty good on you as well."

Steve grimaced, and went back to his designing. The three of them bounced ideas around, and began to put together a range of outfits that Janet might consider. She was after a rather formal look, with long full skirts, and Steve's little facsimile, still with Gloria's hairstyle, tried on a range, none of which quite fitted the bill. Steve was getting quite exasperated by Janet's inability to reach a decision, and ruffled up the sleeves of his latest creation into a leg of mutton effect.

"Oh I like that!" Ellen purred. "That looks very posh!"

"Maybe," Janet said, thoughtfully. "I'm still not sure."

"G13" the door announced.

"Sarah?" asked Ellen. Steve nodded, and went over to the door.

"Hi Steve!" she said brightly, as he opened it. She then saw his outfit, and her mouth fell open. "Oh gosh!" she said. "That's a bit daring isn't it? Are you really going to wear that to the dance?"

Steve flushed anew, and opened his mouth to reply, but Sarah was quicker than him. "Anyway," she said. "Jeanette and I were just going to have our cocoa, and wanted to see if you were going to join us, But I can see you're still busy, so it doesn't matter."

Steve, at that moment, would have loved to have joined them for the nightly cocoa routine. It would give him an excuse to stop his designing efforts, and more importantly, change out of the flaming dress his was wearing. But he could not make his mouth work. Sarah smiled, waved, and was gone. He glumly let the door shut, and was summoned back to the Interface by Janet and Ellen.

The fashion consultancy he was committed to seemed to take hours. He was tired by the time Ellen and Janet left, still undecided about what they might wear. With some relief, he stepped out of the blue dress, and tore the fishnet tights off his legs. He had more trouble getting out of his bra, but he managed it at last, and threw the whole lot into the recycle chute, before selecting his nightdress, and collapsing onto the bed. He faced another day littered with such consultations with the other girls on the morrow, and he wasn't looking forward to it at all. Just before he fell asleep, he wondered how Charles might have got on asking to be Sylvia's escort. It seemed a little incongruous that the frail boy should escort the tall elegant girl, but strange things did happen. He also wondered whether Malcolm had asked Sarah. He wasn't at all sure that Malcolm was as gay as Jeanette insisted he was. He knew Malcolm and Eddie were close; perhaps too close, but surely they weren't gay? Maybe he should intervene in some way tomorrow, and get Malcolm to ask to be Sarah's escort? He made no decision about this, and instead, fell asleep.

  

  

  

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