Strangeflower Academy: A FtM Story, Part Sixteen

Patrick felt suprisingly exultant as he walked towards his final destination. He held Jimena's arm tightly, practically dragging her along as he made his way to the Teacher's Cottages. Jimena's little spy-cams around campus had seen the Gym Club make its way here before they disappeared, which rather narrowed down their destinations.

"No doubt gone to conspire with their beloved gym teacher." Patrick chuckled. "Well, if one is going to have revenge, best to do it all in one go, surely."

As they neared the teacher's cottages, Patrick turned to Jimena. "You know the Island's security better than anyone, my dear. Any chance of us being spotted?"

Jimena still seemed confused, uncertain. She had rather liked Patricia, and this person did seem like Patricia, at least some of the time. But other times...

"Try not to overthink everything. If anyone does spot us, we have airtight alibis. We're looking for delinquents. I'm still the Head Girl, Jimena. My authority won't be questioned, even by teachers."

"I think...I think it'll be fine. The security staff are probably all in their hut, watching late night television. It's how I've gotten away with planting my cameras under theirs, most of the time."

"And here I thought you were some sort of computer hacker." Patrick grinned.

It wasn't hard to avoid detection in the sleepy, leafy little suburb that made up the Teacher's and Staff's main area of residence. And Anya wasn't the only one who knew exactly where Mrs Fenk lived, though Patricia had been one of the few "lucky" students to visit for legitimate reasons.

"It doesn't look like the lights are on...though I think I see some illumination..." Patrick snuck from the bushes to the front door confidently, while Jimena hung back, petrified. This was way outside of her comfort zone, and not at all how she imagined she'd spend a private evening with the Head Girl...well, Head Boy now, perhaps?

"Mmm..."Patrick considered the situation, trying to peer in through the tinted windows. "Lights...definitely some movement upstairs...some noise too. Yes, there's definitely people in here."

After some thought, Patrick shrugged. No point in trying to break in, or observe from afar.

Straightening his hair, he looked back at Jimena. "How do I look?"

"Um, not bad, I guess?" Jimena said hesitantly. Patricia still had her angular cheek-bones, but if you looked anywhere but her face she did seem...quite different, in many respects.

Hopefully the dark would hide most of her changes.

"Alright, let's crash this party." Patricia smiled. "Come, stand up straight with me. Don't say too much, remember my plan and follow my lead."

Boldly, Patricia emerged from the shadows, striding up the flagstones, before knocking confidently on Mr's Fenks door.

She tried her best to conceal her smile as she heard what sounded like a commotion. She could only imagine the sort of depraved goings-on occurring right now.

She forced herself to think other thoughts however. Too easy to get aroused. Patrick could stay dormant, for now.

After a while she knocked again, more firmly this time. Pitching her voice just right, she called out. "Mrs Fenk? Is that you? I'm sorry to disturb you...I know you like your late night training sessions to be...private affairs..."

There was the rattle of the chain as the door opened, just a tad. She felt her heart beating, thundering with adrenaline. What would the Gym Girls try, she wondered? Would they gang up on her? Patricia found the idea oddly thrilling. It didn't seem like a very Patrick thing to think, so she accepted it, for now.

"Mmm? Eh? Is me, Fenk." said a very bad imitation voice. Olga, if Patricia had to guess.

"I'm tired, go away."

"I'm afraid it can't wait, Mrs Fenk...or may I call you Lydia? You see, Jimena has been spying, and some boys are breaking into the Gym Hall..."

"They're what?" a surprised voice said. Patricia smirked.

"Do you have company, Lydia?"

"Yes. Private training session. Go away."

"Mmm, is that so? But I thought you said that if anyone ever found out about these, you'd strangle them. Why, I could just run off to the Headmistress right now..."

The door opened fully, and, predictably, she felt herself being grabbed and hauled in by many, capable hands. She looked into many desperate eyes, reflected by candle-light. She should feel scared, in danger, but she only felt more empowered. Surrounded by so many women...even freakish ones...was very exciting indeed. To be Cat, or Mouse?

"What the fuck are you doing here, Patricia? And what do you know? How's a good girl like you know about all of that?"

"Olga, is it? Where's Anya? I'm surprised she's not in charge here." Patricia responded coolly. Jimena was dragged in, squirming and squealing, clearly afraid. "I'd be very upset if you have harmed her in anyway." Patricia said calmly.

"Anya's....busy." Olga said, a look of fear in her eyes.

"Look...Head Girl, the Gym Club is extremely busy right now. Whatever you think you know, forget it. We're taking care of things right now."

"I see. And while you're doing that...I imagine your beloved Gym Hall is being trashed in all sorts of vile ways by the boys. Maybe that Rex fellow? He'd have cause to hate the Gym Club, I'm sure."

There was murmurs among the gathered girls. They were scared, confused, clearly still rattled, and desperate for leadership. Whatever had indisposed Anya...well, it was lucky for them Patricia was here.

"Well, if you aren't going, then perhaps I should stay. Do we have any wine? I know Lydia keeps a Liebfraumilch behind the ironing board over here...ah..." Patricia casually reached for it, her heart thudding. She was bluffing like crazy, keeping them confused, uncertain, wondering how much she already knew.

In truth, Lydia Fenk had simply invited her as part of an informal chat with a number of other students and teachers, a party celebrating Strangeflower's successes. She'd seen Fenk stash away the bottle for later, and had gambled on it still being around.

"How do you know so much about Mrs. Fenk's house? Why -are- you here?" Olga demanded again. The other gym girls nodded, apparently deferring to her in Anya's absence. Fools.

"Mmm, having trouble opening this...I don't suppose one of you girls could go fetch a bottle-opener?" Patricia distracted them, while Jimena loosened her bonds, though maintaining her position, for now.

"Answer me!" Olga yelled.

"Not so loud! Do you want security to hear? My my. I wonder why the entire Gym Club is in Fenk's, this late at night. Can you imagine the Scandal?"

"What. do. you. want."

"It's quite simple, my dim-witted friend. I want a drink, and I want to talk with my dear old friend. Is Lydia about?"

Olga seemed to be sweating too, her eyes twitching in angry uncertainty about what to do.

"You seem to be getting all worked up. Ah, thank you for the opener. Why don't we all sit down, and have a little drink to calm our nerves?" She smiled. Get them all eating out of her hand, and then...well.

Olga hesitated, uncertain. Patricia leaned forward, a waft of her heavy perfume. "Olga, my dear. I am more than just the Head Girl. I'm the Queen of Strangeflower. Let's all get settled, and then, perhaps, we can help each other out. Don't forget, my father is a very generous investor in this school...I'm sure he'd be happy to fund any sort of...actions the Gym Club might be considering." She kept her tone vague, but inside she felt more alive than she ever had.

The thrill of danger. The potential for violence. The potential for...revenge.

Patrick or Patricia, it was a heady feeling.

"Well...ah, damnit. We've all earned a drink. What a crazy night..." Olga sagged, tempted. She might bluster and present as strong, but she lacked the inner iron to succeed as a leader. As she caved, the other gymnasts did likewise.

Soon Patricia was deftly taking glasses from a cupboard, and filling them up with sweet white wine, while the girls watched.

"Now, let's all settle down, and sort things out. I can tell things are very tense. I assure you, there is nothing my father cannot smooth over with the school, with a bit of convincing." she soothed.

"Whatever the trouble might be."

Gradually, Olga began to relax, as did many of the other gym girls, and they began to open up, about the last few weeks...and about tonight.

Patricia listened, her face framed by flickering candle-light, while she emptied the bottle into glass after glass.

"Ah, empty already? Jimena, do fetch another bottle." Jimena nodded, and Patricia gave her a firm look. Jimena started, but seemed to understand what was conveyed, and she reluctantly left.

"Alright, that's enough from us. Now, you answer our questions, Head Girl." Olga slurred.

"Alright. I can see you are all keen to be on your way." she smiled as she saw Jimena pouring the bottle with shaking hands. Damn girl was almost about to give the game away. What was the matter with her? She would have to discipline Jimena, and properly teach her her new role, later.

"The truth is, I aim to aid you. You have begun something haven't you, tonight? You have avoided mentioning it directly, but I can fill in the blanks. You are here for revenge on Mrs Fenk. An admirable goal. I am also here for revenge." She saw Jimena hesitate as she circled around. "Pour me another glass too, would you be so kind?"

Jimena looked at her as if she was stark-raving mad. But Patrick had a firmness of purpose. Her hesitation was starting to seem odd.
"Jimena?"

She started. "Oh...s-s-sorry..." she poured the wine shakily. Good. So the wine was definitely laced with the drug, then.

Olga frowned. "Revenge? You? You're the self-proclaimed Queen of Strangeflower! What has anyone ever done to you?"

Patricia stood up. "The same thing that was done to you."

"What?"

Dramatically, she lifted her skirt. Her bulge was obvious. The adrenalin, the tension, she was incredibly aroused.

"My...god...another one?"

"Oh? So my...appearance is familiar to you all." she felt her hands shaking, her heart thundering. She was so tense she was on the verge of cumming in her panties right now.

So fucked up.

"Um..well...yeah." The girls murmured, alarmed and taken aback, confused, half-drunk, and ready.

"I spare you from having to share the details with me." She said. "But I propose a toast to revenge. To doing unto others as was done to us, in mutual endeavour."

She raised her glass. The other girls reluctantly did so, a little bemused by her theatrics. But it did suit her character to be a little...archaic.

"A toast, to...revenge."

She raised the glass to her lips, letting the wine hold in her mouth, but not swallowing. This was going to take some doing. She felt it tingling on her tongue. She watched as they drank, some all, some only a little, of the wine.

"Ah...good stuff." Olga smacked her lips.
"I dunno...tasted a little bitter..."
"Hey, Jimena, why didn't you have any?"
The girl started, alarmed. "Uh...well, chica, I'm teetotal-"
"No you're not! You necked back a Dos Equos at the Spring Ball earlier this year."
"Wait. Why is she nervous? Patricia?"

Nothing for it. Patricia grabbed the wine bottle, breaking it over the head of the gym girl nearest her, spraying her drugged wine in the girl's face as she did so.

"Fuck-!"

They all rose unsteadily, but they had been drinking a lot more than Patricia, and the drug was already starting to work, catalysing in their anabolically-laced blood. Some of the girls began to groan, others tried to move sluggishly.

"I'm taking all of you down with me, you roidhead freaks!" she screamed. "Jimena!"

Jimena ran, appalled and frightened. She made it out of the room, before the gym girls turned on Patricia in venomous hate.

Patrick smiled wickedly. Now was his time.

=====================================================

Half an hour later, Anya staggered downstairs, woozy, her head pounding like a drum. She had been covered respectfully in a gym jacket, and had donned that and her panties, though it felt...weird against her new anatomy. She didn't know what to make of it all yet, but she had to see what had been causing all that noise. Fenk was gone from her place in the sex-swing, her bonds torn. She wondered if Lydia had escaped?

She struggled to keep focus, as she teetered woozily down the stairs, and gasped at the sight before her. The rooms downstairs were a mess...and the front door was open, cold air leaking in.

Security was outside, their campus car lights flashing. The ruckus had evidently drawn notice...

Anya quickly ducked inside a broom cupboard. A shitty hiding place, but she couldn't afford to be found like...this.

Security was sweeping the area, and two men hauled out Olga, bloodied, bruised, her clothing torn and scratched, her body...even more muscular than it had been. So rough did she now look, it was hard to tell she had ever been a woman.

Anya's breath caught. No...her changes had accelerated too. But...how?

Then, watching through the thin slit in the door, she was sure she caught a glimpse of another, manically grinning figure, another familiar face distorted by bruises and...changes.

Patricia...?

Anya wrapped her jacket around her slender limbs. Everything was happening all at once. She needed to lie down, to think, to re-evaluate...everything. She was trying desperately not to think about the...thing between her legs. Could she really call herself a lesbian anymore with a dick?

And how would Rex react? She hated that she cared so much what a guy might think, but...

Another familiar voice drew her attention back to the shattered living room.

"Have you searched upstairs yet?" calm, imperious, in control.

"We're doing that just now, ma'am. No sign of the Gym Teacher."

What? But...had she managed to escape in the confusion? But to where?

"Search the island. We will find everyone involved in this...mess." The voice spoke calmly.

"Of course ma'am."

"And remember, discretion is vital. This School cannot afford a scandal, not this early in the year. I pay you all well enough, you understand?"

Anya peered as best she could, trying not to make a noise from behind the broom cupboard door. She might be discovered at any moment, but perhaps they had already searched in here?

She managed to catch a glimpse of a back, of a regal, tall figure, with tightly done up hair.

It could be no other.

Headmistress Rosalia Thorn.