I worked with the wonderful Pink-Horizons to bring the below story to life with her art! If you love her art like I do, you can see even more on her Patreon!
As a private investigator, you never know where life will take you. But I certainly never expected for it to lead here.
My name was Frank Barstow. Two years ago, a CEO from Silicon Valley hired me to investigate his son's kidnapping. Supposedly, he was abducted from his college dormitory by a radical feminist group called The Coven. Their ransom letter made it clear they were pissed off by the lack of women in the tech industry. They demanded the CEO make changes at his company, or else there'd be consequences for his son.
The pay was absurd, so I accepted the job. But honestly, I thought it was bullshit. I had a theory the kid's hippie girlfriend put him up to it; a little stunt to keep the old man on his toes and create a viral news story at the same time. These days, everybody wants their fifteen seconds of fame. But the more I investigated, the more real it appeared. After a few weeks, I realized I was being followed. Then, one day as I was writing an email, my computer started typing by itself:
STOP PRYING MR. BARSTOW. WE HAVE LOOKED INTO YOUR BACKGROUND. YOU ARE A GOOD MAN. DON'T MAKE US CHANGE THAT.
That spooked me. But it also made me more determined than ever to solve the case. Finally, after three months, I found a tantalizing clue: A suspected member of The Coven had rented a farmhouse under an alias in Wyoming. Could that be where they were holding the CEO's son?
I drove to the house armed with my wits and a pistol, determined to put the case to bed. The farmhouse looked abandoned as I approached the door, but I kept my weapon drawn.
I never felt the tranquilizer dart hit my leg. I just remember tumbling down the stairs as darkness swallowed my vision. The last thing I saw was a woman staring down at me, shaking her head with what looked like genuine pity. “We warned you, Frank."
I woke up in this room and I've been here ever since. It's been about two years—I think. There were drugs and needles and pills and surgeries. Slowly, my body began to change. My muscles melted away, breasts sprouted on my chest, and my body developed luscious curves. I realized I was turning into a woman.
I refused to accept it. At first, I screamed all day and night until they gagged me. I'd plot my escape for hours, scratching plans into the wood floor with a pebble.
But eventually that all stopped. I became tired all the time. They fed me regularly. They gave me books and magazines to read. Once in a while they even talked to me through the slot in the door. They were kind. They made me realize The Coven were fighting for the betterment of mankind. I was an innocent casualty of war that's been raging for decades.
They say they'll release me soon. The thought terrifies me. I'm not sure I'm brave enough to face the world as a woman.
