My Class

It has been a strange first week.  It is now Sunday and we have compulsory diary writing time.  I am sitting in my classroom writing away with the other boys, or I suppose I should say girls in my class.  There are five classes each with about ten students (notice how I avoided saying boys or girls!).  My class is the lowest consisting of the newest gi.. students.  It is so hard even after one week not to say girl/girls.  Its like brainwashing; our new feminine status is drummed into us at every opportunity.  Even now after just one week I don’t have to think ‘who is that’ when someone calls me Lexi-Ann.

My class is under the supervision of Ms Bell and is called Nightingale. The others are called after famous women too – Bronte, Austen, Plath, and Pankhurst.  They are all for older, more feminised and more experienced girls.  The other new girls in Nightingale are Ellie, Heather, Helen, Lily, Madeline, Robyn and Rose.  With me that makes eight.  Eight confused, lonely, embarrassed and even a little bit frightened boys who are all being forcibly feminized.