By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for Slayerangel

Andre, Miguel, and Nicholas are three friends with a choice: either go to prison for their numerous street crimes, or undertake a form of community service at St. Elizabeth’s School for Girls. The young men take the offer, thinking it will just be a brief embarrassment. But soon they discover that they are being transformed into beautiful women with personalities more befitting a productive society!

First Part

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Part 2: Welcome to Your New School

St. Elizabeth’s School for Girls had, apparently, been around for three decades, but they couldn't find anything about it on the internet. But to hear the judge tell it; it was a secretive, yet highly prestigious university that catered to women and boys ‘in need of correction’, specifically to get in touch with their feminine side. It was located further out in the sticks in its own private reserve, surrounded by woodlands and with access to a local lake which was exclusively theirs. Despite being only thirty years old, the buildings of the campus had been constructed in a very classical style, with lots of Greco-Roman Architecture, which Nicholas recognised, being a fan of ancient history. The car that took them in halted before the gate, which was prominent in size, and the driver lowered his window to talk to the intercom.

“Three to deliver to the school,” he said.

‘Very good. We’ve been expecting you. Come on through.’

The gate opened, and Nicholas noted that above was a dedication to ‘Tiresias.’ 

“Weird,” he noted. “That’s the guy in Greek myth who got turned into a bitch because the gods were arguing over who had hotter sex.”

“Where do you come up with this stuff, man?” Miguel said, chuckling.

Nicholas just smiled. “Hey, I may be an edgelord, but I’m a smart edgelord. We’ve already beat the system, so why not be all smart about it, right Andre?”

Andre, who was on his phone and already working to rebuild his various crypto scams from the ground up, just smirked. “Damn right, dude,” he said.

The car took them up to the school’s main entrance, passing several other buildings on the way. Even Andre had to look up from his phone to view their surroundings, and was taken aback by how expansive and wealthy this school clearly was. There was an entire pool complex, a large gym, what appeared to be an arts centre, and very curated gardens that were blooming with vibrant and tropical flowers. 

“Man, this place is like the Ritz,” he said. “Can’t believe those jokers thought this was a punishment.”

“Told you our folks would come through,” Nicholas said, grinning. “They paid off those judicial fucks. Screw that Paige girl. Bitch had it coming, being in our way. Hope we get to see her wheeling past on that contraption of yours. I only wish I’d left her a quadruplegic so she didn’t do all that ridiculous arm waving in court.”

Miguel grimaced. “Dude, that’s going a bit far, isn’t it?”

“Nah, fuck her. Bet she can’t ever have sex again either. Dried up pussy right there. Can’t wait to remind her of that while we’re here.”

Andre gave a low chuckle, but didn’t find it as amusing as he put on. He and Miguel knew that Nicholas could be a rogue, but his mean streak was much bigger than either had thought it was, clearly. 

“You’ll calm down, man,” the bigger fellow said. “Especially when we check out all the hot chicks at this school, right Miguel? You aim to dip your wick a bit?”

“Oh, I intend to,” the handsome Hispanic track star said. “I can see a few beauties already. Mmm-hmm, just look at them!”

As the car continued along the drive up to the main administrative building, the three young men took in the sight of the students of St. Elizabeth’s School for Girls. There were more students than any of them had thought there would be, especially for a place this far out from civilisation. In fact, it was clear that there was likely over a thousand students here, and most of them looked very healthy, fit, and most importantly of all to the three young men, attractive.

“Check out the blonde in the pink crop top!” Nicholas said. “I’d like to fuck her tits.”

“Jesus, she’s got a pair,” Andre said. “But no ass. Mhmm, check out my mocha-coloured girl over there. Now that’s an ass I’d like to fuck.”

“Damn straight,” Miguel said. “And that brunette? Damn, I love summer dresses. Nothing hotter than a good girl in a summer dress. Look at those lips. I bet she gives great blowjobs.”

The driver in the front seat huffed, clearly offended by the boys’ crass talk, but otherwise he said nothing.

“You got a problem with boys just being boys, man?” Nicholas said.

“You three are a lot worse than ordinary boys,” he said.

“C’mon, dude. I know you’re like eighty or whatever-”

“Fifty.”

“But you gotta admit, you’d love to go to a place like this and slay some pussy.”

The driver chuckled. “You might like it less than you think. This place ain’t what you think it is, sonny. It won’t be the paradise you imagine.”

“Whatever. Hey, check that bitch out,” Nicholas continued. “She remind you of anyone?”

The other two looked where he was pointing, and both sets of eyes widened. The woman was ginger and pretty, her hair styled in a cute pixie cut, her face dotted with freckles a little like Nicholas’ was. She had a slim, lovely body and wore a sleeveless shirt that exposed a sliver of her midriff, and denim cutoffs that also revealed her lovely legs. Legs that, by all rights, should have been mangled and useless, just like her left arm should have been cut off at the elbow.

“Woah,” Andre said. “No way. She looks just like Paige Heathers.”

“The girl we hit?” Miguel said. “No way. It’s gotta be a coincidence or something.”

The driver chuckled, as if knowing something they didn’t, but stayed silent.

“Maybe a sister or something, taking care of the cripple,” Nick replied. “Hey, what the fuck, we’ve got competition.”

Their attention shifted to other members of the campus on the green quadrangle that they were passing. There were definitely some men among the women, and others that looked kind of androgynous. More than a few, in fact.

“Damn, this whole campus is gay!” Andre said. “Is that what you meant, driver-man? We can’t get pussy because it’s all a bunch of lesbos and soyboy cucks?”

The driver just smirked, and pulled to a stop.

“You’ll see,” he said. “Welcome to St. Elizabeth’s, kids. The headmistress will see you right up the front steps there. All the best. Hope to see you around, but I probably won’t recognise any of you by the time that happens. If you ask me, a good thing too. You’ll get what you deserve.”

“Ooooh!” Miguel gasped. “Cryptic! C’mon, fellas. The stench of old is getting to me here.”

They exited the vehicle, then retrieved their baggage from the trunk of the car. They chuckled and cracked jokes about who was going to get the highest body count, and Miguel gave a crude smoochy kiss gesture to a young woman exiting from the door they were heading to. She was a beautiful blonde with a big rack and an outfit that looked almost illegal with how much skin it was showing, but she turned bright red upon seeing his gesture and then immediately burst into tears.

“It’s not f-fucking fair!” she cried, descending the steps far more rapidly and then running across the green.

Miguel did a double-take. “Well that was fucking weird. Did I get ugly or something during that trial?”

“Nah man,” Nick said. “Bitches be crazy, I keep telling you.”

“Bitches be crazy,” Miguel agreed. “Truer words were never spoken. Good thing this place finally has some men on campus, right Andre?”

Andre opened the door and stepped through. “Absolutely,” he replied, waiting for the others to enter. “But here’s hoping there’s some suckers here too. I need to rebuild my portfolio, and a sheltered place like this should be damn perfect for milking a bunch of bimbos out of their money.”

“But only after we’ve let them milk our cocks,” Miguel said.

“Using their mouths!” Nick cheered.

Their conversation was halted by the appearance of a slim, tall woman with glasses. Her dark hair was done back in a tight bun, and she wore a silken white blouse and black pants. She looked like a sexy librarian, severe and willing to shush you at a moment’s notice, yet undeniably model-like in the face and with a nice figure.

“Yummy,” Miguel whispered under his breath.

“Miguel Rodriguez? Nicholas Barker? Andre Cripps?”

“In the manly flesh,” Miguel boasted, striking a pose.

The woman was not amused. “I am Persephone,” she said.

“Hot name.”

She ignored him again. “Welcome to St. Elizabeth’s School for Girls, also known as our School of Feminisation.”

“School of what?” Andre said.

Again, the woman gave no reaction, and simply continued. “Please pass your things to our staff members. They will take them to your new dorm rooms, which you will be escorted to later.”

Several women approached, as well as a couple of male staffers. They took the bags from the boys, but the three of them weren’t too happy about that.

“Don’t lose my condoms,” Miguel said.

Nicholas raised his voice. “Yeah, you better not take my Swiss Army Knife either.” “Or fuck with my laptop,” Andre finished.

“Rest assured,” Persephone continued, “your things will not be touched and your privacy respected. However, Headmistress Lillian wishes to meet with you immediately.”

“See fellas?” Nick said. “VIP treatment.”

“Oh, she does this for all new entrants,” the librarian-like woman said severely. “Now, come with me. If you have any questions about the school and its history I can answer them as we walk.”

“Why are there guys at a school for girls?” Andre asked. 

“For the same reason you are here. Malcontents who could not adjust to become productive members of society, and so have come here to learn the proper ways, and be changed. With their parents’ explicit permission, of course.”

It was sort of an answer, but also a non-answer at the same time. Andre felt that rage bubble inside of him, that easy answer that came and that he always failed to manage. He let it stew as they continued to walk, while Miguel simply looked around with curiosity and Nicholas held his smug expression up high.

“Fucking weird place,” Andre muttered under his breath. He slapped a photoframe off of a stand as they passed, just quietly enough that Persephone didn’t notice. It was nice to let the steam off, and Nick just smirked in his direction.

“Who are these people?” Miguel asked, looking at the photographs and displays in the resplendent hallway that they were passing through.

Persephone turned and adjusted her glasses. It was indeed a strange display: one class of men, another class of androgynous-looking people that could be male or female, and then a third with very attractive women. It spanned quite the length of the hallway, and one had to keep walking to take in the whole display, because the photoframes were relatively large and displayed an entire class of around twenty two individuals.

“They are our first class we had, just four years ago,” she said. “They are commemorated as our great success.”

“Wait, class or year group?” Miguel said. “Because that’s, like, sixty people right there.”

“No, it’s a little over twenty,” Persephone noted. “It’s a time-lapse. We had such success with them. All productive women in society now, except for poor Brianna. But with her male violent streak, her fate was deserved. I think she must appreciate that by now. Come with me.”

It was all cryptic, annoying not just Andre anymore but all three of them. Nicholas made a ‘crazy’ gesture by circling his finger around his ear, indicating that the woman was clearly a whackjob. 

“I’d still fuck her,” Miguel whispered.

“Bet she’d love a big black dick in her,” Andre added.

They giggled like schoolchildren right up until they were at the door to Headmistress Lillian’s office.

“Here you are,” Persephone said. “Please show the Headmistress more respect. She controls your lives now, after all.”

The three scoffed, Nick most of all, but they still entered with a little trepidation. It was a large oakwood door, and the office beyond was large and impressive, with a taller ceiling and a lot more Greco-Roman architecture on display. Shelves were lined with books, and there were displays of masculinity and femininity in the form of photoframes of bodies and gendered hobbies across the back wall. A large painting of smiling women of numerous ethnicities was hung upon the highest point of the wall, all of them beaming like they were in some kind of cult. Judging from how they all wore a graduation uniform that bore the sign of the school upon it - the classic female symbol of the circle above a cross in pink - they perhaps were in a cult.

But somehow, none of this commanded as much attention as the woman behind the large desk in the centre of the room. She was dark-skinned and unbelievably beautiful, looking to be only in her mid-thirties, and with bountiful black curls that fell down her back. She wore an elegant yet professorial dress, and had golden earrings and bracelets that emphasised her sense of style. And yet there was an authoritarian nature to her expression, to her dark eyes. They seemed to look straight through them, as if seeing their souls and knowing their inherent value, every mistake and every sin. The woman folded her hands together in front of the little plaque that stated her name: Headmistress Martha Lillian.

“Take a seat, gentlemen,” she said coolly.

Andre folded his arms. “Prefer to stand.

“And I prefer you to sit, and you are at my school, Andre Cripps. And if you don’t sit, I can choose not to accept you at my school, since this meeting will formalise your enrolment or not. So if you prefer a long prison sentence over sitting, clarify that for me now.”

Andre clenched his fists and snarled.

“If you’re going to break something, do it elsewhere. Now sit.”

He did so, but the rage boiled inside of him, that mean streak that currently had no outlet, but would certainly be visited on someone a lot less powerful than the headmistress soon. Nick, on the other hand, sat down and put his hands behind his head, smug and proud. Miguel was beside him, more nervous. The woman was intimidating, that was for sure. She had all the energy of a commanding sports coach, and the calm of a dictator who knew she held all the cards.

“Thank you,” Headmistress Lillian said. “It’s wonderful to have boys who recognise that sometimes, manners are important. Of course, the reason you are here is because out there, in the wider world, you have been distinctly lacking in manners, haven’t you? Speeding, drink-driving, consuming illicit drugs, visiting violence upon innocents in clubs, showing signs of extreme misogyny and chauvinism, not to mention reckless driving causing serious injury. Poor Paige Heathers . . . I’m very glad she’s thriving here and recovering. Her program has done wonders for her, just as your program will do wonders for you. And it is a program, I’ll warn you about that. In order to avoid the hefty suspended sentence hanging over your heads, you’ll need to follow your daily schedule to a T, and ensure that you are present for every class, every meditation session, every private counselling appointment, and so on. Does that make sense to you?”

Miguel sighed. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Very good. In that case, welcome to St. Elizabeth’s School for Girls. You may have heard it referred to as the School of Feminisation. That is simply because of the amount of girls here, and nothing more, I assure you. You’ll be taken to your dorms presently. Nicholas, you’ll be in the A wing. Andre, you’ll be in the B wing. And Miguel, you’ll be in Wing C.”

“What!?” Andre said, jumping up to his feet. “Were not together? The fuck is this!?”

“Temper, temper,” the headmistress said. “You can still all meet during your overlap classes and during your break times. But for the good of your rehabilitation, it’s important that you aren’t together during dorm time. I trust there’ll be no issues on this matter?”

Andre slowly sat back down. Nick just grinned.

“Well, anything else?” he said. “Or can we start checking out the hot chicks all over this campus? You know, since that’s part of our ‘punishment.’”

To his surprise, the headmistress just smirked right back at him. “You can try, but you might not find your overtures as successful as you think with them. The women of this school - and the men - are all here for self-improvement. That will be your focus; turning you into productive members of society and finding the particular niche you can help fill. And trust me, we will find it. Now, Persephone will guide you to your dorms. Farewell, gentleman. I look forward to seeing how each of you . . . develop.”

Something about the way she said it made a chill run down Miguel’s spine. There was a deeper kind of understanding there, one that the three men were on the outside of, and not being allowed to see just yet. It bothered him, and judging from the way Nick’s usual smug smile failed to reach his eyes, he could tell his friend thought the same.

Persephone escorted them to their dorms afterwards. At each stop along the dorm wings, they were provided with information on their schedule, a timetable and a map to help them. The three men were confused regarding some of the classes. Academics were present, as was physical activity in the form of a PE class, but there were also bizarre classes and appointments, such as VR Meditation Hour, or the one entitled Physical Regimen Checkup. The rather Orwellian-sounding Neural Rehabilitation was also concerning.

“Dude,” Andre said as he was directed to his room in Wing A. “This is fucking weird. This is the kind of shit I put together when I’m building a fake MLM to pull in moron investors.”

“Maybe this place really is a cult,” Nicholas said. “If they try to force anything on me, I’ll make sure to cut them.”

Miguel chuckled at this. “C’mon, buddy. Why be worried about a cult? You’ve got the kind of personality to become the leader of one. And you know how much pussy a charismatic cult leader gets.”

“Point taken.”

Persephone did her best to stay professional and ignore their words. But by the time it was just Miguel remaining, she was clearly tired of him checking her out.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” she said.

“Nothing wrong with a little window shopping, don’t you think?”

The beautiful woman rolled her eyes. “Here’s your room. Our patented Pop Fizz has been allocated to you. It’s healthy and . . . necessary.”

“Whatever,” Miguel said. “So long as it tastes good, I don’t give a shit if . . . hey, why are they all staring at me?”

He was looking up the hallway, where numerous women had paused halfway through the conversations and comings-and-goings. Now, they were all gawking at him like he was some kind of three-headed purple alien. Some were whispering to one another.

“Yeah, I’m a guy,” Miguel said. “Come check me out sometime if you’re missing a real man.”

Persephone scoffed, but the rest of the women just kept on murmuring.

“You should get out!” one of them cried. “It’s not what they claim! They’re-”

“NOT ANOTHER WORD,” Persephone yelled, loud enough that even Miguel jumped. “Not unless you girls want to spend the rest of your lives as back alley prostitutes and strippers, got it?”

They melted away, but again that eerie awareness passed over Miguel. Persephone’s face returned to a neutral expression. 

“Go in. Enjoy your Pop Fizz. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day. The Headmistress has plans for you.”

A little stunned, Miguel entered, for once without a smart line or clever comeback. He closed the door behind him and then sat down on the bed of the dorm room.

“The fuck was that about?” the Hispanic man said to himself. “This place is goddamn loco. This is some M. Night Shamalyan shit.”

He began to unpack his things. However weird this place was, he just needed to get through four months of it. That was all. Just four months. Then he was free and clear, and Andre and even Nicholas with him. 

“It’s just some slightly weird school,” he told himself. “Don’t overthink it.”

He cracked open the Pop Fizz and gulped it down. It was surprisingly delicious. Very delicious, in fact. Addictively delicious, to truly describe it. He continued to drink it until the can was completely empty, and even then he turned it upside down to drain the last tantalising mango-flavoured fizz from the can.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said, before chucking it across the room and into the trash can. “At least there’s one good thing about this place apart from all the sexy ladies. I’ll have to get more of that Pop Fizz stuff.”

He had no idea that he’d just taken his first step towards the mission statement of the school. Without even knowing it, with that single soda can, Miguel had begun his journey towards feminisation.

As had his two best friends.

To Be Continued . . .