History books and classes are such faint memories that they feel like something I came up with in a dream. The world changed so suddenly that we seemed to collectively forget about all the little things we did everyday. All of our routines, our celebrations, our passions were swallowed up in an effort to resist fate. But fate has a habit of getting what it wants.

Seven hundred years ago humans made their first steps on Mars. A century later the planet's rust red was replaced with lush green fields and forests and dotted with sprawling, gray metropolises. We gradually spread out further and further until the whole solar system came under our grasp. Those of us on Earth lived luxuriously, reaping the rewards of an empire of eight worlds.

Eventually it all came to an end. The galaxy was engulfed by solar fire, destroying all of our technology and leaving each planet to fend for itself. Decades of revolt and tyranny ensued but eventually things stabilized and we managed to rebuild. The crisis was a distant memory by the time of even my great, great grandparents. Still we had a small unit about it every few years in school. The story always fascinated me. Sometimes it kept me up at night, and I would go to my window and look at the stars, wondering what Martian culture was like so long after we were cut off from each other.

A year ago the answer came on the backs of warships and strike teams. We were undeniably outnumbered, outgunned, and outmatched. The nations of Earth crumbled one after another in a matter of months, and the last pockets of resistance were forced underground. I lived in one of their hidden outposts among dozens of other refugees up until they found us. I was shocked to find out the Martians weren't going to kill us. Instead they were putting us through something they called reprogramming.

They stripped us naked and placed us in tight handcuffs before marching us into holding cells. I waited in that cell for hours, uncertain of what would become of me under Earth's new rulers. Eventually a guard came to escort me to the first stage of my reprogramming.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked.

"Do not speak unless you are told to speak," the guard admonished me before shoving me forward with his baton. After a short walk he pushed me into a blank, white room with a single table in the middle. "Lie down. Your reprogramming specialist will be in to speak with you shortly. If you do not cooperate you will face disciplinary action."

He disappeared behind the sliding door before I could say anything else. As far as I could tell I had no choice but to follow orders. I climbed onto the table, laid down and waited. There was nothing in the room to draw my attention toward, so eventually my thoughts and my sense of time went fuzzy and merged into the nondescript whiteness. I wondered what life was like for them under the empire, if we did something to deserve this kind of retaliation, but even this was difficult to think about for long.

A tall woman entered the room, clad in a labcoat. Her expression was clinical and stern and her hair was tied back into a bun that didn't allow even a single thread to dangle freely. "It says on your file that you haven't been assigned a name, just a number. Is that correct?"

"I, uh, have a name. It's Lucas." I stammered.

"So you have not been assigned a name," she asserted indifferently before noting a few things down. "Your new name is Mira. You are to respond only to this name from now on, and any attempt to use your old name will be met with disciplinary action. Do I make myself clear?"

"But that's a girl's name. I'm not a-" I tried to sit up.

"Stay down," she ordered as she forced me back. She only repeated the question "Do I make myself clear?"

"But," I interjected before being silenced once again.

"Your new name is Mira and you are not going to argue about it. I'm going to ask one more time: am I clear?"

"Yes. You're clear." I intoned meekly.

"Excellent. Now hold still," she commanded before retrieving a needle from a tray she placed nearby. "You're tense. This will help you relax."

She drew the serum from its bottle and plunged the needle into my arm. After a few seconds all of my muscles relaxed. Every drop of doubt and worry evaporated as the agent spread through my body. The distinctiveness of each sense melted drop by drop into a messy slush. Only tiny granules stood out from the pool.

"Wha-" I made an effort to speak, but my lips gave out on me before I could form the first word. All I could manage was a light drone.

"Shh," a voice whispered, probably the specialist but I couldn't put the sound and the person together in my stupor. She was just a watery blur and seemed as irrelevant to what was happening as the walls did. "In just a moment you will be entering your peak suggestion state. This state is what we will use to do most of your reprogramming." I made another feeble noise. "Shh," the voice repeated, "You don't need to answer. Just relax and listen."

A dark object appeared above me and steadily lowered over my face. After a slight tap of pressure I felt it seal into place, leaving me in utter blackness. Two speakers entered my ears shortly after.

A hazy, shifting image appeared in front of me, a naked woman splayed out on her knees, looking expectantly with bright, innocent eyes. Her expression suddenly went blank and she opened her mouth, letting her tongue hang over her lower lip.

"Your duty in life is to serve," a new, but distinctly feminine voice purrs from the speakers, "You will be dutiful and obedient to your masters. You will be gracious to them for giving you this opportunity to service something greater than yourself."

The image transitioned to another woman receiving anal. Her expression was shaped by ragged, thoughtless pleasure. Her eyes were pointed upward, almost rolling back and her mouth hung open in a relaxed o-shape.

"You live to serve the masters," the speakers continued, "Their pleasure is your purpose. You will obey eagerly and without question. Their will is absolute. Your desires will become their desires. You will want nothing more than to serve them."

The screen advanced to a looping clip of a new woman giving a blowjob. She didn't gag or hesitate in the slightest when the cock plunged to the back of her throat. Her face ached with pleasure whenever it happened, making her brows bend back and her lips quiver.

"You are an obedient slut. You are not a man. You are a good, submissive girl. You are not a man. You are a good, submissive girl. You will serve the masters well."

I felt a soft tube slide over my member. After another repetition of the same mantra, the device started to vibrate. The image changed again to a beautiful woman on her knees with her back in a straight, disciplined stance. Between her legs was a tiny bulb of a chastity device.

"She was once like you," the voice whispered, "She thought she was a man. She thought she could resist. Now she knows her purpose. You will learn to obey. You will become as perfect and feminine as she is. You will be a beautiful and obedient whore and the masters will use you however they want."

The device around my cock started vibrating faster and more forcefully. A procession of pictures began to run across the stream, each one framed and posed identically to the last. It showed beautiful girls locked in tight, little chastity cages, all of them in the same docile pose.

"They were all once like you. They learned to serve. You will learn to serve. You will be beautiful and obedient. You will submit."

The pictures kept going and going, never repeating. A fresh face came to the screen every time. The machine whirred harder against me as the sea of faces kept coming. I finally came. The device forcibly extracted the semen as I shuttered in pleasure. The machine went still and withdrew. The slideshow went dark and the screen rose from my head. In the harsh flood of white light I felt something clasp around my neck. It was just tight enough that I would always be conscious of it, but it didn't give me any trouble breathing. I reached up to feel for it.

"That's your collar," the specialist explained, "It serves both to track your movements and apply corrective protocols. Take these." She handed me a handful of pills.

"What are they?" I asked.

She sighed, "I hope you'll get out of the habit of asking so many questions. Things will be much easier for you that way. But I'll humor you. They're estrogen pills mixed with a few other agents to speed up the feminization process."

"But I don't wa-" I objected before being cut off once again.

"It doesn't matter what you want. Your purpose is to serve now. Take them."

Though reluctant, I didn't see any other choice. I swallowed the pills.

"Good girl," she smirked with the satisfaction of an expert craftsman, "Now let's schedule your first assignment. From their we'll evaluate how much more reprogramming you need. Either way, you'll be seeing my assistant each week to keep up with your feminization."