“Empath G1029rY9h, please report to the west wing. G1029rY9h to the west wing.”

The other boys cheered and patted Gryph on the back as the PA sounded. Gryph swallowed hard. The west wing was the women’s wing. He stood, blood rushing to his cheeks as laughing eyes bored into his skin. Some of the others had been to the west wing before. Their stories had fascinated Gryph but now he found that his mouth was dry. The boys hooted loudly as Gryph walked away. He tried to ignore them and focus on the girls in the room. They were all younger than he was. They averted their eyes as they caught him watching, and giggled, whispering to each other. They would all be asked to go and live in the west wing as soon as they became women. What did it mean to become a woman? He tried to imagine the girls in the room as something other and failed. It felt like the whole dining hall watched him. The rows between the chairs and tables seemed to stretch forever. Eventually, he was outside. The fresh air hit him; he hadn’t realised how hot is face was. It had to be Cara they were sending him to see. He wanted to see Cara. He’d missed her since she’d become a woman. He hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to her, before she’d been whisked away. What would she be like? She might be a woman now but she must still be Cara… right? He had no way of knowing. He’d never met a woman before.

The grass was damp as he crossed the quadrangle. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tight knot in his chest. The west wing loomed before him, large and grey. It was mostly indistinguishable from any of the other buildings in the Institute but it felt different. It was normally strictly forbidden to go there. Boys who tried to sneak in were caned so hard they couldn’t sit comfortably for weeks. As he reached the west wing’s front door, Gryph glanced surreptitiously at the guards who watched from rooftop stations. Even knowing he’d been invited, he felt nervous going inside. He stepped through the door without reprimand and found himself in a small, white room, with wooden chairs lining one of the walls. There was a long desk along the other side of the room, with a corridor and two humans behind it. Gryph approached them, timidly.

                “Turn around.”

Gryph did. One of the humans scanned the code on his shoulder and nodded.

                “This way, please.”

He opened a little swinging gate and let Gryph behind the desk, before leading him through corridor beyond. Gryph was quickly turned around as they wound through the building. It was very different from the co-ed wing. There were no big open spaces, just corridors with sharp corners and doors lining every wall. They didn’t see anyone as they passed. A smell hung in the air that he didn’t recognise, something sweet. He frowned, trying to decide what he was but he was starting to feel dizzy. He dismissed the thought as the human stopped in front of one of the doors.

                “I will be back to collect you later. You are excused from your normal schedule today. Do not harm the other empath. If you do, there will be severe consequences.”

Gryph nodded. The human pushed the door open. Gryph stepped inside. The room was unlike anything he had ever seen. Soft, plush fabrics draped every surface. Strange, furry carpet caught between his toes. The sweet smell from the corridor was stronger here. Cloying. The room was mostly dark. Everything was murky. Everything except her. She waited, sprawled on a four-poster bed, a single beam of sunlight spilling between heavy pink curtains, highlighting her. She was like artwork. Gryph forgot to breathe.  

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

                “Cara?”

She smiled lazily, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. They were a pale mint green.

                “Come sit on the bed,” she sighed, “It’s so nice here.”

Gryph hesitated. She looked the same as he remembered her, but she was different. Her expression was… dull. There was no sign on her face that she recognised him at all. He examined her, concerned. She saw him looking and grinned, shaking her mane of honey-gold hair. Slowly, teasingly, she trailed a finger down the centre of her chest, between breasts that glistened with sweat.

                “Come and sit with me.”

Weak-kneed, he went to her. He took her hands and stared into her eyes.

                “Cara. It’s me. It’s Gryph.”

Her mouth opened in a little ‘o’ and she blinked furiously. At last, she seemed to finally see him. She squealed in delight and pulled him in a hug. Gryph tried to ignore the stirring in his pants as she pressed against him. He shook his head furiously, trying to clear it.

                “I missed you,” he choked.

                “Oh, Gryph, I love it here. Don’t you just love this room? Look at all of my pretty things.”

She leapt up and twirled, arms thrown wide, like Gryph had seen in films they’d been shown. Chattering excitedly, she pointed out a handful of things around the room. He didn’t know what a lot of them were. Incense. She explained to him proudly that incense was the source of the smell. Apparently, the furry carpet was called shag. They were all luxuries rewarded to women who cooperated when boys were sent to their rooms. Cara explained that sometimes, a woman would swell up all big after being visited. Those women were given whatever they wanted. She sounded jealous when she talked about that. Gryph was the first boy who’d been sent to her. Some of the others were given a lot more chances to be rewarded.

                “Do they give you much to read here?” Gryph asked.

She laughed.

                “It’s too nice here to waste time reading.”

Gryph frowned. Cara had loved reading, when she was a girl. When they did Arts, most empaths would paint, or build things. Cara had written. She’d always devoured every book she could get her hands on. He remembered holding her as she cried, before she’d been moved to the west wing; she’d been frightened that they wouldn’t have good books in the women’s wing.

                “You’re sure you’re happy?”

                “Very happy.”

Abruptly, she dropped to her knees before him, pulling at his pants. He gasped, flinching away. Pictures flashed through his head, images conjured from stories he’d heard the other boys tell. He didn’t know how to do any of the things they’d talked about. Cara looked up at him through long lashes.

                “Please help me?” she plead, “They never send me anyone. I promise you’ll like helping me.”

                “I… I don’t know how to…”

                “It’s okay,” she touched him in a way that made him yelp, “I know what to do.”