Being a breakdancer was easier, you had shown off to any dancer every day. As a teenage boy you, Alex, loved to brag about how good you were at it.

One day a ballet instructor walked right into your breakdancing set, you obviously confronted her and said how she was ruining your art. She responds…

“Art? You call that art, you simpleton?”

Suddenly, she drags you away as you yell at her, the crazy woman took you all the way to her dance studio. It was massive, with lines of expert ballerinas and a strict sign on the outside stating “NO BOYS ALLOWED”. After being dragged inside, the instructor explains…

“From today onward, you will be one of my girls. I don’t expect any resistance, any anger, anything boy-related. I’m turning your improper “art” into something worth doing.”

Her authoritative tone made you whimper and nod, as she took you to the girls changing rooms to apply makeup to your face. After she was done you looked in the mirror ashamed.

“Good girl… now aren’t you much prettier now? Perfect for my studio…”

As she stroked your hair, she would start tying it in a tight bun, dressing you in the girls’ uniform…

“Come now, Alyssa!” She claps calling over to you.