Chapter Twenty
Recording the events of the past few years has a therapeutic effect. The pages of my journal fill rapidly and what was initially remembered as intolerable humiliation aboard The Scarlet Letter’, slowly turn to more mellow recollections. But the clock indicates it is time for Mr. Fatipton’s evening feeding, thus I drop my pen. Ms. Powers does not tolerate tardiness.
I remove my robe and move to the bathroom. A full-length mirror reflects my entire naked image. It’s something with which one can never become accustomed. My breasts are huge with n*****s that resemble small p*****s as they react by erecting in the cool room air. I remain shaven. What little hair that grew back after I left the ship, Ms. Powers insisted be removed.
“Strict antisepticism when interacting with M
