Happy 4th of July (1)
The afternoon sun beat down on the University of California Los Angeles, ready for the Fourth of July event. International student Aisha Al-Mansour, a fiery 22-year-old from a conservative Middle Eastern country, had reached her breaking point. She stood before the large American flag that hung proudly from the central flagpole, her dark hijab framing a face twisted in contempt.
A small crowd of students milled about, many snapping photos on their phones. “Disgusting imperialist symbol!”
Aisha shouted in accented English, her voice carrying across the green. She spat on the ground at the base of the pole. “This flag represents everything wrong with your arrogant nation wars, exploitation, cultural erasure! You think you’re superior? I reject it all!”
She grabbed a corner of a smaller display flag nearby and yanked it hard enough to tear one seam, drawing gasps from onlookers. Campus security arrived within minutes. Two officers escorted her to the administration building, where Dean Patricia Harlan and the head of International Student Services waited in a wood-paneled office.
Aisha sat defiantly, arms crossed, already mentally packing her bags as she says: “Go ahead… expel me. Deport me. I’ll be a hero back home for standing against your propaganda.”
But Dean Harlan, a stern woman in her fifties with silver-streaked hair, leaned forward. “Miss Al-Mansour, your actions violate multiple codes, disorderly conduct, destruction of university property, and creating a hostile environment. Normally… this would mean expulsion and revocation of your visa. But the university has decided on an… alternative approach. A program we’ve been piloting for cultural integration disputes.”
Aisha laughed: “Alternative? What, community service? I’ll refuse.”
The Dean replies calmly: “You won’t have a choice.”
Two female staff members entered, wheeling in a sleek, high-tech medical cart. Before Aisha could protest, a sedative was administered via a concealed patch on her shoulder. Her vision blurred as they take her to a private wing of the university’s advanced research facility, funded by generous alumni donors interested in behavioral realignment technologies.
When Aisha awoke, she was strapped naked, to a padded table in a brightly lit chamber lined with mirrors and humming machines. Patriotic music played faintly in the background. A team of specialists in white coats surrounded her.
Dr. Elena Hargrave, the lead researcher, smiled professionally as she says: “Welcome to Phase One, Aisha. We’re not expelling you. We’re upgrading you. By the end of this, you’ll be a proud, integrated American girl body, mind, and spirit. Consider it patriotic rehabilitation.”
Aisha screams and thrashes, but the restraints keep holding her. “You better let me go before my country…”
Intravenous lines delivering a cocktail of hormones, and neuronal modifiers make her silent as the changes begin slowly at first, then accelerates. Her olive skin lightened gradually to a sun-kissed golden tan, the kind achieved from summers on California beaches. Her straight black hair lightened strand by strand, roots shifting to a vibrant honey-blonde with natural beachy waves cascading down her back. Her facial features softened and reshaped: cheekbones rising subtly, lips plumping into a full, pouty smile, nose refining into a cute button shape, and eyes shifting from deep brown to striking blue-green with long, fluttering lashes. Her body underwent a complete reconfiguration as her hips and bust narrowed, forgetting about her favorite Middle-East pastries. Her huge D cup breast grows smaller to be soft small A cup firm breast. Her legs lengthened and toned, thighs thickening with athletic curves while her calves sculpted into graceful lines. Even her voice is subtly altered, as she gains a sweet valley-girl American accent.
Mental reprogramming starts with flashing images and subliminal audio bombarding her: Fourth of July fireworks, baseball games, cheerleaders waving flags, classic rock anthems, road trips on Route 66... Her resentments dissolve under waves of euphoric patriotism. Memories of her Middle-Eastern heritage, her family, her Muslim faith grow distant, all replaced by new ones, her family from Massachusetts before leaving for California, the memories of this blond little girl on the beach, her parents calling her Ashley, she sees the Dean Harlan smiling at her… calling her hunnie as she responds mom… Ashley remember her school years here in Pasadena, her high school prom, her summers lifeguarding on the beaches of California, she sees herself pledging allegiance every morning as she is humming along to Born in the USA and giggling...
When she finally wakes up, she’s no longer strapped to a bed, she’s in a room… she recognizes it in her new memories as her girly girl room in her parents’ house. Her room is spotless full of cheerleading medals, pictures of her best friends pinned on the wall, on her chair she sees a cute American flag bikini and small handbag.
She looks inside and sees an ID… it’s hers… the new her as it says:
As she sees this, Ashley remembers her prom last May, her mom so proud of her as she gets her diploma with honors, and even prouder when she got her letter from the university. Finally, she gets up her bed and goes to the bathroom and dresses up in her cute bikini as she hides it under a cute blue dress.
As she sees herself on mirror she can’t help but whispering “Oh my gawd… I look gawgeous.”
Her mom just behind her says laughing: “Yeah ye look gawgeous baby gurl…”
Ashley turns red before laughing with her mom. After breakfast the two women go together to the residential pool next to their house since Patricia Harlan’s husband and Ashley’s father owns the place, Ashley takes off her dress revealing her cute bikini as her mom takes these stunning photos of Ashley in her signature bikini, later she posts them on social media with captions like
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