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I stood in line with Alan, looking out over the room. College aged boys filed one by one behind a curtain.
"I'm not sure about this camp, something seems off about it to me," I said quietly.
Alan waved his hands dismissively. "It'll be fine, why are you always worrying?"
I said nothing
I looked out once more. Some boys were led in one direction, some in another, but curiously, some appeared to never leave. Perhaps there was a hallway that I couldn't see behind the curtain.
The more I watched, I realized that it was always the scrawniest of the boys who did not return from behind the curtain. I looked down at my thin arms and legs. I looked up at Alan. He certainly wouldn't have any trouble. He was tall, broad, and muscular.
"Good luck," I said to him when it was his turn to go behind the curtain.
A few moments later, he emerged holding a folded uniform. He shot me a thumbs up as he was led down a hall to the left by a man in khakis and a white button up.
"Next," called out a man's voice from behind the curtain.
I stepped forward to find two men in the same khakis and button ups.
"What's your name?" asked the one with the clipboard.
"Ernie," I said.
"Alright, Ernie, we're gonna start off by getting your height," said the other man, extending a tape measure. The man with the clipboard marked down 5'7.
"Now, if you could remove your sweatshirt, I'm going to measure your biceps."
"I don't have a shirt on under, is that okay?"
"Yes."
I took off my sweatshirt and held up my bicep.
"Go ahead and flex."
"I am flexing," I said.
"Hmm," said the man with the clipboard, making a note.
"Alright, please drop your pants and underwear," said the other man.
"What?" I asked nervously.
The man with the clipboard set down his clipboard with a sigh. He unzipped my pants and pulled them to the floor, revealing my small cock. The other man measured the length.
"2 inches soft--she's a filly, take her away."
The other man grabbed me by my arm and led me naked down a hallway behind the curtain.
"What's happening?" I demanded.
The man opened a door and tossed me into a room with two other scrawny, naked, college aged boys. "You're a filly now, get used to it."
He locked the door behind him.
"What is this?" I asked the other boys, covering myself with both hands. "What's a filly?"
"It's you," said one of them spitefully, "it's us. We're the bottom bitches."
We sat silently in that room for hours, curled up to hide our dicks. It felt as if that would be it, that they would simply leave us here.
Finally, the door opened and two men in khakis and button ups opened the door. One held a cardboard box, the other held a riding crop.
"Which one of you fillys wants to put on her uniform? Or would you prefer to stay in here forever," said the man with the riding crop.
The man with the box pulled out a pair of white cotton panties. "Whoever raises their hand first gets them."
I looked at the other boys. Their faces were set with disgust.
It was silent for a moment.
Tentatively, I raised my hand.
"Suck up," said the boy who had spoken before.
The man smiled and set down his box, handing me the panties. "Make sure to tuck your privates back, filly."
Shaking with humiliation, I pulled the panties up my legs and tucked my penis back.
"Good girl," crooned the man with the riding crop.
The other boys looked embarassed to be associated with me.
Next, they gave me a little white pique polo, which I pulled on over my head and buttoned to the second to last button, hands still shaking. They gave me a pleated khaki skirt that buttoned in the back--one of the men buttoned it for me. It fit well, too well.
They handed me a pair of white knee socks and a pair of brown Mary Janes, which I put on as well.
"It looks like Ernie has become Emily," said one of the men. He struck my bottom with the riding crop.
I doubled over in pain, tears in my eyes. They couldn't really do this to me, could they?
"Come along, Emily," said the other man, picking me up, "it's time to see the doctor."
They led me farther down the hall.
I was led into a doctors office, where a man in a labcoat held out a paper cup with two pills in it. "The green one is estrogen. It dissolves under your tongue. The white one is a testosterone blocker. You swallow it with water."
I nodded meekly. It seemed I had no choice. I took the pills.
"Hop up on the table, Emily," said the doctor, "I'm going to apply some estrogen gel to select areas. Could you lift your pretty polo for me?"
I lifted the shirt, exposing my hairless chest. I felt oddly exposed, even though I had had my chest out earlier. It felt different in the girls uniform.
He rubbed the cool gel around my pecs, circling inwards toward my nipples. When he reached them, he pinched and rubbed at them. I was embarrassed to find that they were erect at his touch.
"You may tuck your shirt back in, Emily."
I did as I was told. I hated how easily I gave in, how easily I responded to the name Emily.
"Now," said the doctor, "lay back and part your legs."
When I didn't move, he placed his hand on my chest and pushed me lightly back. He parted my legs with his gloved hands and pulled down my white cotton panties so that they were at my ankles.
"Good girl, Emily, just like that."
He applied the cool gel to my penis and began rubbing it in.
I tried to fight it, but I grew hard as he rubbed, and soon he was rubbing my cock in a rhythmic pattern, up and down.
I tried to sit up. "Please!"
It was too late. I came all over myself and my uniform, the doctor's glove and his coat. It felt so good, but so deeply humilliating.
"Good girl, Emily," said the doctor. He got a hot towel and he wiped everything down. "Pull your panties up, sweetheart, you've got a long day ahead of you."
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