003. In the room

Amelia found herself alone in the room. She approached the mirror and stared at herself, astonished. The reflection was that of a woman of overwhelming beauty; never in her life would she have dared to speak to a woman like the one she now saw before her. She admired every one of her perfectly sculpted curves, the softness of her skin, and the harmony of her features. However, confusion and frustration flooded her. How could this body be hers? How could she have transformed into this perfect, seductive woman?

"How is this possible?" she thought, her eyes scanning her reflection. "How can this be me?"

With that elegant dress, she could easily pass as a high-society lady, not just some ordinary prostitute. The makeup was a masterpiece in its simplicity; the lipstick and eyeshadow accentuated her lips and eyes exquisitely, without crossing into vulgarity. The earrings and choker accentuated her long and delicate neck without overshadowing the overall look. Her nails, though long for her taste, were painted in a soft pink that added a touch of sophistication without dominating the image. She wondered how women managed to use a computer comfortably with nails like these. The most striking feature was the red dress, which hugged her figure in a sublime way, enhancing every detail without revealing anything indecent.

She marveled at the elegance she exuded, yet at the same time, the reality that this body was hers seemed impossible to accept. Frustration mixed with amazement; knowing that this beauty would be used to satisfy others' desires felt like a brutal injustice. She felt betrayed, sold like a mere piece of meat. It wasn't fair that, because of the mistakes and omissions of her past life, she was now destined for this undignified fate. The idea of being a prostitute, of being valued only for her physical appearance, was unbearable. Every time she thought of the future that awaited her, a mix of rage and despair took hold of her.

"Why me?" she asked herself, fighting back tears. "What did I do to deserve this?" But she knew well what had happened. "I was a pig."

The beauty in her reflection couldn't console her; instead, it only reminded her of the cruel reality of her situation. Trapped in a body she didn't recognize as her own, destined for a life she never could have imagined, Amelia felt her identity crumbling. In her confusion, she wondered if she could ever reconcile with this new reality or if the weight of her fate would completely crush her.

She wondered what other elegant clothes she might find in the wardrobe, clothes meant to be ripped from her body, for they only served to cover the object of desire her clients would pay for. Amelia tormented herself with this thought. She now understood her friend Nuria's words: prostitution doesn't empower women; it degrades and objectifies them, but now it was too late.

"Damn it, Nuria, you were right," she thought bitterly. "Why didn't I listen to you?"

He—no, she—had been turned into this, a prostitute. Perhaps a deserved punishment for her sin, but a horrible one nonetheless. Her family was wealthy; surely they could have paid a good sum for the damage caused, even serving a few years in jail seemed better. How many years would she have to pay for her crime before Inmaculada freed her?

Just as she was about to open the wardrobe, her eyes drifted towards a brochure resting on the nightstand. It wasn't much more than a simple pamphlet. On the cover, it read: "Brief Guide to the Novice Area." She picked it up and sat down with it in the armchair, a mix of curiosity and resignation washing over her.

"Brief Guide to the Novice Area"

"Welcome to our family. If you have this brochure, our goal is, though it may seem incredible to you, to give you a good life while you pay for your crimes." Amelia read the first line and felt a surge of indignation. "Of course, a good life by being turned into a woman and forced into prostitution," she thought bitterly.

"Are you worried about your change of sex and not being a heterosexual woman? Don't worry, within a few weeks your transformation will be complete, and your hormones will change when you're in front of an attractive man." The idea of feeling attracted to someone she couldn't choose enraged her. "And what if he wasn't attractive? As a prostitute, she wouldn't have the right to choose." With each paragraph, her anger grew.

"What to do in the novice area? In the novice area, there are three common areas and one private area."

"'The Bedroom.' This is the only private area. You should use it only to rest and store gifts. Spending too much time here will severely harm your promotion." Amelia frowned. "Promotion? Does Inmaculada really give us a chance to stop being prostitutes?"

"Of course, if you're not sold to a trafficking network, the organization's intention is to turn you into a wife, mistress, or secretary of an influential person. But if you don't apply yourself, you won't get such a position, and if you take too long, you'll also end up sold to a trafficking network. So the common areas are the most important for you." Amelia wondered if Inmaculada's words about wanting to be friends and turning her into an influential woman to expand her network of contacts could be true.

"'The Gym.' This area is where you'll shape your body. You were a man, so you'll recognize the importance of good physical condition and flexibility to please your partner." Reading this was revolting. As a man, she might have used those words, but now, as a woman, they disgusted her. "However, don't push yourself too hard. Being full of aches and pains can be counterproductive. Also, this is where the facilities and showers are located."

"'The Beauty Salon.' You may have already used it. Here, you have hairdressers, beauticians, and stylists dedicated to making you look wonderful. However, they are also here to teach you how to do all this on your own, in case you're rented for a season." The idea of being rented for a season made her shiver. "It makes sense, in a way," she thought, "that's the only way to win over a client, by spending more than one night with him." Was she really considering winning over a client? Using her body to attract and seduce an important person seemed shameful.

"'The Study Room.' Here, you'll learn everything our team has deemed necessary for your success, from conversation topics and financial education to sexual positions. Even though you were a man, you probably won't need much of the latter. Just think about how you felt best. Unfortunately, it's all theoretical, and practical classes, such as horse riding, must be requested and approved." Amelia pondered the irony of being trained to be a perfectly submissive prostitute. However, the idea of learning manners and skills like horseback riding made her reflect on the importance of interacting with certain elites.

"In the study room, meals are also served punctually at the following hours: 7:00 AM for breakfast, 1:00 PM for lunch, and 8:00 PM for dinner. You'll only have half an hour to eat, so make sure to be on time. If you're not, you won't be able to eat. There's no possibility of second helpings or choosing your food. You've been assessed, and each of you is provided with the appropriate foods for your body." Everything seemed meticulously calculated to transform undesirable men into compliant women for other men.

Thinking about this made her stomach churn, but even so, it was better than being discarded and sold to a trafficking network. Would it be real that she'd end up feeling attracted to men? What other drugs, strange insects, or magic could this organization have? If they had these worms, why didn't they use them on transgender people? If applied to them, many of society's intolerance towards that group could be resolved. Would there also be worms to turn women into men? How would they return his masculinity if he fulfilled everything?

She looked at the brochure and realized that was all; there was nothing else. Resigned, she observed the room more carefully. The bed was made, the IV removed, and on the opposite nightstand from where she had found the brochure, there was an alarm clock. Neither the alarm clock nor the brochure had been there when she woke up; of that, she was certain. Someone had placed them after she left the room to see Miss Inmaculada.

She looked at the alarm clock. It read 12:27, which meant she had 33 minutes before lunch. Too little time to go to the gym, the beauty salon, or study something. She looked at the wardrobe again, curiosity piqued. What kind of sportswear would there be? Did they have pajamas? Without thinking too much, she got up from the armchair, put the brochure back on the nightstand, and stood in front of the wardrobe.

She had made the decision quickly, but now, facing the wardrobe, she felt a total dread. "It's just a wardrobe," she told herself, trying to muster the strength to open it. "It just holds clothes, even if they're women's clothes, they won't kill you." No, they wouldn't kill her, but they were another nail in Roberto's coffin. If inside were women's clothes and she accepted them as her own, it would be another step towards Roberto's disappearance. "I'm sorry, Roberto, but now I'm Amelia. I'll miss you." After these mental words, she finally opened the wardrobe.

There wasn't much clothing. Several evening dresses, a couple of nightgowns, a pair of sports pants, a pair of sports tops, a couple of more casual skirts, four shirts, some sneakers, even higher heels, and quite a bit of underwear, all sexy.

With the wardrobe doors open, she collapsed onto the bed behind her, putting her hands on her head. Not even a pair of jeans or pajamas. Everything was unmistakably feminine and based on sexist standards of how a woman should dress. Every garment seemed to scream her new identity, forcing her to accept what had happened.

Amelia felt a mix of frustration and despair. Her entire being rebelled against the idea of having to dress in those clothes, of having to assume this imposed role. She remembered the life she had led as Roberto, a life full of freedom and choices, a life that now seemed distant and unreachable. Powerlessness consumed her as she looked at the garments hanging in the wardrobe.

"How long will I have to live like this?" she thought, feeling the weight of despair pressing down on her. "When will I be free again?"

She wondered how long she would have to endure this new reality before she could be freed. The idea of being sold as a sexual object was repulsive, but she knew she had no other option for now. She needed to find a way to survive, to adapt to her situation while seeking an escape.

With a sigh, she got up from the bed and began to examine the clothes more closely. Each garment was a reminder of what she had lost, but also of what she had to do to survive. As she considered her options, she decided that sportswear didn't go well with heels, and if she wanted to impress a man, she couldn't look like a clumsy duck wearing them. She wasn't going to the gym, so she chose a skirt and a blouse, something more comfortable than the evening gown she had on, but that still matched the heels she was determined to get used to.

She dressed slowly, each movement a stab at her old identity. She felt like she was betraying Roberto with every feminine garment she put on, but she knew it was necessary to survive in her new reality. As she adjusted the skirt and buttoned the blouse, a sense of loss and resignation washed over her. She slipped on the heels, feeling how her posture changed and how her body adopted a forced elegance. Every step was a reminder of the person she no longer was, but also a step toward accepting her new life.

"This is who I am now," she thought, fighting against the sadness. "I have to adapt, I have no other choice."

With the brochure in hand, she approached the mirror once more. The woman reflected was beautiful, elegant, and determined, but the sadness in her eyes betrayed the internal struggle she was facing. She observed how the skirt highlighted her curves and how the blouse accentuated her figure. The heels added a grace she had never had as a man. She felt like she was betraying Roberto, but she also understood that she needed to adapt to survive. "I'm sorry, Roberto," she thought again. "But now I'm Amelia. I have to keep going."

Finally, she took a deep breath, tossed the brochure onto the couch, and left the room, determined to be the best student possible. She was going to stop being a prostitute; at the very least, she wanted to be a woman loved and respected by a man. With determination, she headed to the study room, ready to face whatever was necessary to change her fate.