The Program Chapter Three

by:	Eleanor McClay

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Rating: R	Add Review   Read Reviews, Last Review 06/10/07 (2)	Added: 06/10/2007
Complete: no
Synopsis:	When his class is conscripted into the Program, something that only one can leave alive, Thomas is offered another way out, but there is a heavy price to pay.
Categories:	Crossdressing / TV  Physically Forced or Blackmailed  Stuck
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28th July 2010

The date...well, yuck is the word. It's not that my new boyfriend Charles is ugly or obnoxious or full of himself, and if I were a girl I would be happy to have a boyfriend like him. It's just that, well, I'm not a girl. He had brown eyes, short brown hair and was well dressed, and as soon as he saw me he hugged me and planted big warm kisses on my cheeks and my lipsticked lips that I longed to wipe away but didn't dare to. He took me to a burger bar...at least the food was good, and we also shared a long hot dog that we bit down on and ate until our lips met. Then he took me to see a movie and insisted on cuddling with me and playing tonsil hockey with me in the cinema.

Yuck. There was nothing I could do about it; I had to feel his tongue rubbing against mine whilst he ran his hands over my body and my fake breasts. At least he didn't grab at my crotch or he would have discovered the truth and when my new mother found out she would probably have exploded my collar. And yet I can't be too angry with him as it's not really his fault. To him I really am Eleanor, the girl of his dreams.

I had to pretend all the time that I loved him out of fear of what that horrible collar might do to me. As you can imagine, I was very happy when the date ended and he kissed me goodbye and left.

Now, back to when I ended up in this mess...

On the way back to the mainland I asked my new mother "Why me? There were two girls taking part as well, I'm sure either one of them would have volunteered to take your daughter's place, and being genuine girls would be a lot better at it as well."

She shook her head. "First, their height and builds were wrong. One was a foot taller then my daughter and there is no way that I could put it down to a sudden growth spurt. The other was several inches shorter and so fat that my husband would think that she was three months pregnant and there would be a blazing row and the truth would end up coming out. Second, they were there because their father had tried to harm the state in a big way, which is all you needed to know, and a high ranking Government Minister wanted them to die and to see the dead bodies. Your height and build and eye colour were just right, all you needed was to be disguised well enough."

I shrugged and successfully fought the urge to wipe my lips for what felt like the twentieth time.

"Remember your cover story, you were hit by a hit and run driver hard enough to put you in hospital for a few days, but you're fine now. If you accidentally forget something you should know about it, the cover story will do its job."

When we got back to the mainland we transferred to a limousine and I sat in the back on the leather seats fingering my bracelets and my amber necklace and thinking, and my thoughts went something along the lines of; Whoever this Eleanor is, judging by her jewellery and accessories she is rich. Maybe it's not so bad being her-at least if I can let my parents know that I'm still alive, just so that they don't have to mourn my death.

Then I felt my stomach churning at the thought of my new boyfriend.

He's going to want to kiss me and cuddle me and tell me how much he loves me and I'm going to have to pretend that I truly love him back. Not that I'm a homophobe, but he and I are both male although he won't know that. And it won't be fair on him either; he would be sickened if he knew who I really am. What if he gropes me down there and finds out? She's going to make me go all the way, isn't she? She's going to have them surgically...cut off. I'm going to say goodbye to my two best friends forever. Who will make my decisions for me? Why am I thinking of stupid jokes at a time like this?

We arrived at her house and a set of gates rattled open. I marvelled at the house and it's grounds and then she told me to wait for a couple of minutes and then come inside. I did so and came face to face with a large and somewhat plump man in a suit who I recognised as my new father. He hugged me and kissed my cheek. "Your mother told me what happened. You'll be glad to know that the one who did it to you was found by the police and executed."

I nodded and smiled. "Oh yes. Can I go to my bedroom?"

"Of course, you don't need to ask."

I ran up to my new bedroom and looked it over, and wrinkled my nose in disgust. It was pink. A pink carpet, pink wallpaper, a bed with a pink cover. Boyband pictures upon the walls along with a large portrait of my boyfriend Charles and what I suspected was a small obligatory picture of the Prime Minister that had to be displayed in houses like this to show political loyalty. A make up table with several draws, a pink diary in which I am writing this and a cellphone. A cellphone! I could telephone my parents and tell them that I was alive. It might take some doing but I could tell them something only they and I would know. I dialled the number of their house. Halfway through there was a soft buzzing from the collar and I dropped the phone and fell on my knees in agony as the collar shocked my neck for several seconds.

Clearly, it would not be that easy. I swore that I would get payback somehow as soon as I found a way to get the dammed collar off my neck. I considered sneaking outside and running as far away as I could get, but I decided with the collar on that would not be an option. Who could I tell? My *father* ? Too risky, with an explosive in the collar ready to tear my throat open when my so-called mother set it off. The police? Maybe they could find a way to get it off me before my new mother could find out about my defection and explode my neck.

No. What could I tell them, that I had been rescued from the Battle Royale Program? If they believed me they would either shoot me on the spot, throw me into prison or put me back into the hell that I had escaped from. If they didn't believe me I would either end up wearing a nice white straitjacket in an asylum or they would hand me back to my *mother*. And I had to admit that it was too risky to tell my *boyfriend* or any of Eleanor's girlfriends who I really was. For now I would just have to be Eleanor for as long as it took to get out of here and enjoy the good side of being her.

It's getting late, I will write more tomorrow.

Thomas McGhie, known to all as Eleanor Verney.