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"Nurse,
get her cleaned up. I need some images
for marketing."
The
doctor began turning knobs on the oral restraints while the silent, rubber-clad
nurse swabbed the bound girl's face with an alcohol-soaked pad. On the ceiling monitor the captive watched as
the colored dots were wiped away, along with a few specks of blood. The steel claws of the jaw clamps were
released and swung back. At last her
face was clean and free - except for the shiny steel band across her forehead,
which held her firmly in the sculpted headrest.
It felt wonderful to flex her jaw, and to feel blood rush back into the
parts of her gums that had been compressed by the clamps while the doctor had
done his work. Apparently the
deep-seated muscles that operated her jaw had been unaffected by the botox treatment.
"There,
isn't that a pretty girl? Except for
your eyes, so red and cranky. Soon we'll
cauterize the capillaries that make your eyes so puffy, but we usually wait to
do the eyes until a subject's been vended and the client specifies what style
he'd prefer. For now, I have some drops
that will clear you up." He
unscrewed a dropper-top from a small glass bottle and let stinging droplets
fall into the wet brown eye of his captive subject. After the first set of drops warned her of
the sting, he had to use his fingers to hold the lids of her other eye open
while he administered the drops.
After
a few moments the stinging began to fade and the girl opened her eyes again,
blinking rapidly to clear them. On the
monitor she saw the redness and swelling had diminished. Immediately she began to test the features of
her face, to see how much damage the botox had done. The same dopey little smile remained that she
had first seen when in the grip of the oral restraints. She could expand the smile, but to frown or
even maintain a neutral expression seemed impossible. She could pucker or pout her lips - in fact
those motions came more easily than in her prior life, and her pucker was now
almost cartoonish - but she could not curl the lips back from her teeth.
Her
jaw worked fine, and she could blink her eyes - though the lids seemed to flap
in odd detachment from their surroundings.
She could not wrinkle her brow in fret, nor lower it in anger. When she tried to raise her eyebrows as
though frightened, only the outer corners responded. Rather than conveying fear, the resulting
expression resembled the arched "bad girl" stare of some
black-and-white movie goddess. Finally
she relaxed and considered the face at rest.
It belonged to a silly young tease: free of care, simple-minded,
playful. That was the mask she would
wear for the rest of her life.
The
result of the carefully targeted botox overdosing was, in a sense, a horrifying
disfigurement. But looking up at her new
face the girl could not say that the treatment had left her scarred. In fact quite the opposite: the banishment of
worry and fear from her face allowed a natural beauty to shine through as it
seldom had before. Inside she felt
abused and mutilated, but on the monitor her face looked relaxed, and pretty.
She
noticed the red light on the overhead camera had been blinking.
"That
was great - marketing will be able to cull a lot of good stills from that
sequence." The doctor paused to tap
some keys on a computer terminal outside the girl's field of vision. "I've sent that last clip along. The boys in marketing will pick a few choice
stills and use them, along with some computer-generated interpretations of what
your body will look like when your mods are complete, to illustrate your notice
of availability. That notice will be
distributed very discretely, to previous clients of ours and to others who have
been qualified as recipients. Shortly,
based on those images and our report on your various measurements and
potentials, you'll be put up for auction.
If you find a buyer at that time, he'll be able to specify the rest of
your modifications, and many details of your appearance. I say 'if you find a buyer,' because the
reserve price is set quite high for these pre-completion auctions. Many subjects don't find a buyer at this
stage. We complete those projects
according to our own judgement and offer them for auction again after
completion, and it's possible that's how it could go for you. But based on the performance you just gave
and your physical potential, my guess is you'll be one of the lucky ones who
becomes a truly 'custom' pleasure companion."
"Now,
the client who makes a pre-completion purchase from our clinic gets to choose
from a wide variety of options for his new toy.
To help him choose - him or her, I should say: the great majority of our
clients are male but we are an equal-opportunity vendor - to help them choose
we use proprietary software to morph your features into an approximation of how
the various options would look when stretched over your unique bone structure. I can tap into that program right here on
your monitor - let me show you the possibilities."
The
developer tapped out a long series of keystrokes and the live image of the
girl's face snapped out. After a pause
another image zoomed in, of a naked 3-dimensional female figure with arms
outstretched and legs slightly spread.
Most of the figure was portrayed in a generic, peachy "flesh"
color, but as the view zoomed in the girl saw that her own face was
superimposed on it - the new bimbo-ized version of her face, with its wide eyes
and mindless grin.
The
proportions of the generic figure matched her image of her own body in some
ways, but not others. She saw the wide
hips she cursed her mother for, and the boyishly broad shoulders. But the waist was much too narrow, the legs
too trim. Her muscle tone looked good -
all those hours in the pool and the gym paying off. But her big hips and shoulders and those
silly boobs...what a cow she was.
"Skin
Palettes, ok, Caucasian, here we go..."
Except
for the face, the body on the monitor became pale, almost bluish white, with
prominently pink nipples. "No,
no....OK I'll just scroll through the options." In rapid succession the figure's flesh tone
change from pallid to Central African ebony to sallow Asian, with stops in
between at blushing Nordic white, South Asian brown, and California tan. Finally the doctor found a tone close to that
of the girl's superimposed face: light olive, like generations of her ancestors
who had walked under the Mediterranean sun.
Her nipples became light brown, the short-cropped and bikini-waxed fuzz
about her private parts, dark.
"Good. This is a simulation based on how you
appeared when we acquired you, modified to show how your various changes should
look after swelling is reduced, dressings are removed, and etcetera." The girl glanced at the figure's feet, and
noted they pointed straight down. They appeared too narrow and delicate,
especially in contrast with her shapely athletic legs. Her gaze shot to the figure's wide-spread
arms. Her own remained numb and
unresponsive - for all she knew, they might have been amputated. But the computer-generated figure retained
all four limbs.
"Mah
ahhmms..." Her partially paralyzed
lips made it difficult to form words, and she still struggled with the various
drugs as well.
"What
was that?" The doctor seemed
surprised by his subject's sudden effort at speech.
"Mah
ahhmms. Wasss rung wit mah ahhmms."
"Oh,
your arms. We have performed several
procedures that will affect your arms.
We've taken the precaution of numbing them more thoroughly than the rest
of your body, to protect them while they heal.
But rest assured they're still attached to your body."
"Now
then, here is how you'll look when the mods we've already begun are
completed." At the tap of a key,
the figure's breasts began to swell, and its waist shrank. The captive girl's eyes bugged as the boobs
inflated like balloons. When the growth
stopped, each of the monstrous mams was probably twice as big as the figure's -
her own - head. Their bottoms were
nearly even with her bellybutton and the sides projected well outside the frame
of its ribcage. Her waist, just visible
below the shaded 3-D jugs, had shrunk to a disproportionately small
diameter. The torso of the modified
figure was reduced to a collection of plump curved shapes: the two enormous
boobs most prominently, joined at the pinched, fragile-looking waist to the
wide oval pelvic area.
"This
is what we mean by 'fantasy' pleasure companion. Some of our clients use our talents to
replicate female celebrities, or ex-wives.
Be thankful you're not a candidate for that latter role. You have been chosen by our staff, because
of your natural potential, to be remade into an idealized female form."
"See
how your wide shoulders distribute the weight of those enormous titties? The skinny girls you were so jealous of when
your sorority went clothes shopping in the city - yes, we were watching -
those skinny girls couldn't carry that kind of volume. And look there: you have the hips of a
fertility goddess. The computer hasn't
altered them at all, they just stand out a little better in this image because
we've fuck...(ahem)...tucked in your waist and thighs a bit."
The
doctor looked into her face and added with apparent sincerity: "You were born
for this role, my girl. It's lucky
we found you."
The
mind of the helplessly bound, tortured, and completely exhausted captive was
far past processing all this with anything like logic or reason. A strange brew of thoughts and emotions
bubbled in her head as she looked up at the image of what she was to
become. From the playful bimbo's face
through the ultravoluptuous curves to the tiny delicate feet, the vision was
horrible, perverse....but sexy as hell.
It exaggerated the very features she'd tried so hard - through dress,
exercise and diet, posture - to conceal....but celebrated them, too. Her conscious mind recoiled at the image, but
she couldn't deny that far back in the attic of her brain, she felt a tingle of
excitement in the notion of men bidding for her, fighting over this ideal
female.
With
an effort of will, the girl closed her eyes against her future. She was no goddess. She was a wide-hipped girl from the
suburbs. She was good at math, and
swimming, and wanted to be a schoolteacher.
This "doctor," and his associates, might cut and inject her,
but she was still herself.
"For
a little while longer," said a voice inside her head.
----------------------------------------------
"Don't
you want to see the menu of mods available for you? So far the program is only displaying the few
treatments our staff has already ordered.
It can also simulate the variety of detail treatments that your buyer
might specify for you. Or would you
rather be surprised?" The girl
opened her moist eyes again to take in her possible futures. One thing she did not want was to be
surprised by whatever further changes were performed to her body.
"OK,
I have no idea where you might be vended, so I'll just start a slide show
sequence of the various treatments that might be selected. That should keep you entertained while I
leave you alone here with your nurse for a bit.
She's efficient enough in her duties, but not very good company. I'll be back again later to check on
you."
He
turned to the trim, silent nurse.
"Twelve, all the subject's requirements are on the chart. After cleaning her up she's due for a topical
breast treatment, and it's time for the basic wiring setup. I should be back before you're
finished." After tapping some keys
on the computer terminal he left the room, humming a cheerful tune.
While
the nurse busied herself with some preparations, the captive girl watched as
the image on the monitor zoomed to a closeup of her feet, which were pointed
down, nearly in line with her lower legs.
She could see now how the surgeon why they looked so small. There were only four toes - the big toe and
three of the smaller ones - and the foot itself had been narrowed
proportionately. It was very neat work
and no scars were visible, at least in the computer image. She wondered what her own poor, complaining
feet looked like now, inside their casts or splints or whatever it was that
held them rigid, outside her restricted field of vision.
As
the girl watched with dreadful fascination, the feet on the monitor oozed into
a completely new shape, the toes merging into a single heavy pad, like a
hoof. Then the toes divided again, but
folded underneath while the feet shrank into misshapen clubs - like those of an
imperial Chinese concubine, bound from youth.
Suddenly the feet disappeared completely, leaving her calves abbreviated
at neat padded stumps. Next, steel
hardware faded into view at the stumps, perhaps connectors that might be used
to mount some kind of prosthetics to the ends of her legs. Finally the delicate, four-toed feet that
belonged to some fetishized ballerina faded back into view. The camera zoomed out and panned up, so that her
legs became visible from thigh tops to toes.
Gasping
through her mesh-covered breathing port, the rubberized nurse approached the
table carrying a small plastic tub. She
lifted a wet sponge from it with her gloved hand, and began bathing the bound
girl from head to toe. She rubbed
briskly and purposefully, but not roughly, and the warm cleansing solution
relaxed the captive victim as it wiped away sweat and spatter that had
accumulated during the previous session.
When the nurse was done she toweled the girl thoroughly, then draped her
again with a blue shoulder-to-knee blanket.
Clicking smoothly back and forth across the room in what the prisoner
visualized as very high heels, the nurse retrieved a jar from a cabinet on the
wall and stood over the head of her subject, so that the weird masked face
appeared upside down as the bulbous mirrored "eyes" looked down on
her. The nurse reached into the jar and
brought out dabs of white lotion, which she massaged firmly into the bound
girl's face.
"I
always wanted to go to one of those fancy spas," the captive thought
ironically. She missed long stretches of
the slide show while the nurse tended her, but glimpsed some strange images in
moments when the black rubber hands didn't block her view. Apparently amputation of her legs at the
knee, or even right under her butt, were possibilities that she faced. She saw her hips expanded to hippopotamus
size, and her waist reduced to the diameter of a coffee can. At one point the nipples on her enormous mams
stretched and thickened until she had the teats of a milk cow. Then, impossibly, each thumb-sized teat split
into four and her boobies became udders.
When the nipples shrank again they didn't stop at a normal size but
retracted into her boobs, leaving holes that stretched vertically and grew pink
lips at their sides. Instead of nipples
each of her giant boobs now featured a little bald pussy. She watched all this detachedly - it was
impossible to believe these bizarre abominations might actually be inflicted
upon her.
After
completing the facial the nurse drew the blanket down off the girl's breasts,
and began applying to them a lotion from another jar she'd taken from the wall
cabinet. This treatment created a
sensation of warmth, like a milder form of a heating cream the girl had applied
once to a sprained ankle. As the nurse
slowly massaged the warming lotion into her boobies, the girl began to feel
something like pleasure, and became deeply relaxed........
"Gaaahh!" She snapped suddenly awake again as sharp
pain from her boobs penetrated the fog of drugs and fatigue. The nurse was still standing over her, the
protruding mirrored "eyes" looking down into her face, but had
stopped her massage. The restrained girl
could not raise her head to see the source of her new pain, but the angles of
her attendant's rubberized arms told her that she was pinching and twisting her
nipples - hard. The girl fluttered her
lashes to prove she was awake and after a moment the nurse relaxed her grip,
and resumed rubbing the warming cream into the flesh of her subject's
breasts. The girl understood that she
was not to sleep. The doctor had
promised a break after the botox masking procedure, and he had kept his promise
- for himself.
Why
won't they just let me sleep? the exhausted captive thought as her eyes filled
again with tears. Then she remembered:
sleep deprivation is a tool for interrogation.
They were trying to wear her down, probably brainwash her. How could she fight it? She tried to fill her mind with thoughts of
happy times she'd spent with family and friends. But in this strange place those memories
seemed distant and difficult to call forth with any vividness, as though her
captivity had already lasted four years, or fourteen, instead of a little over
four days.
She
tried harder, concentrating on the pleasant memory of the previous Summer's
family vacation. The nurse had stepped
away from the table to work with some equipment, and the girl risked shutting
her eyes to focus on recalling that happy time.
She remembered the cozy little cabin in the mountains, walking through
green meadows, cooking hotdogs over a fire, looking up at the starry black
sky. She could almost feel the
pine-scented breeze in her hair. Then,
while she visualized walking along a sunny creek side trail she felt pain in
her feet. She realized the people around
her in this daydream - or had she fallen asleep again - her mother, her younger
brother, his friend who'd come along, were looking at her strangely. She felt self-conscious, and reached up to
touch her face. It felt stiff and
numb. She looked down at herself, and
she was naked. Her boobies were huge,
projecting in front of her so that she couldn't see her toes. She tried to cover herself, but her hands
didn't work. The boys were pointing and
laughing at her. She looked to her
mother for pity and understanding, but was met with a look of utter
revulsion...
Back
in the little white room the confined girl felt rubber fingers on her nipple,
and her eyes sprang open. Tears ran
freely down her cheeks, and she sobbed.
Could she ever go back? Even if
she escaped, or was rescued, she would be a freak. No one could ever look at her the same way
again. The girl's pious mother had
warned that her hunger for the attention and approval of boys would lead her
into a life of sin. It seemed that
mother had been right, even if she'd never imagined the depths of degradation
to which her little girl might be drawn.
The
overhead image was zoomed in to her face, her dim-witted new doll's face, and
suddenly she saw in it a true reflection of her lack of wisdom, her weak
character. Wondering what it was she'd
done that had led her to this plight, she returned her attention to the screen
with a combination of dread, curiosity, and resignation. She watched as her thick, curly,
reddish-brown hair faded away to reveal a smooth bald scalp, and then returned
again. Her brown eyes grew slowly until
they were huge and glassy, like a Japanese cartoon. When they shrank again, they kept narrowing
until they disappeared completely, and the eyelids flattened out as though
stretched over empty sockets. Her nose
erupted like Pinocchio's - if Pinocchio had a ten-inch dildo for a nose - and
despite her condition the girl had to laugh at the ridiculous sight. Then she recalled her doctor had said that
some of his clients were women. She
imagined being buried to the eyeballs in funky female pubic hair, and the
dildo-nose didn't seem funny anymore.
The nose shrank again and morphed through many sizes and shapes, before
receding back into her skull to leave a puffy bald pussy in its place, complete
with a little clitoris right between her eyes.
She
wondered how long it would take for her to go insane.
--------------------------------------------------------
The
nurse was pasting the last of a half-dozen small wired pads around the girl's
forehead when the door swung open with a bang and her developer returned.
"OK,
how are we doing? I see Twelve has done
a thorough job with your skin treatments.
Now let's get a look at those feet."
He
snapped on fresh gloves and touched his subject's pained toes. On the ceiling monitor the lips of her
computer-generated twin were inflating into pink bananas, but she focused her
attention on the doctor's explorations.
He began peeling tape and dressings from her feet, and the girl was
surprised to gather from the touch of his fingers on her bare skin that her
feet were apparently not casted or otherwise bound.
"Nurse,
lets get her cleaned up here." The
attendant began swabbing the feet with something that stung. At certain places, especially the tips of her
toes and the outsides of her feet, the gentle dabs brought sparks of fresh hot
pain.
"You're
coming along very well here. No more
weeping from the wounds and the swelling is going down nicely. Nurse, get her wired for the
electrostimulator." He stood and
returned his attention to the girl.
"That will feel a little funny - people say it's like something
crawling on your skin. But electrostim
greatly accelerates the healing of bone and connective tissues, so it'll help
you get on your feet much more quickly."
Doctor and nurse worked together to paste sticky pads to the girl's
feet, and she heard the snap of plugs being fitted into electronic sockets.
"I
see the slide show has ended. So our
timing is perfect, it's time to flip you."
Without warning he pulled a pair of mechanical catches below the table,
and lifted it at the head end. The
well-balanced apparatus rotated easily, and the girl bound within spun 160
degrees forward until she was looking down toward the floor, her head still
slightly above her feet. The rigid bands
that had held her firmly to the table now carried her weight. There were enough of them, adequately padded
and strategically located, so that the load was distributed and her restraint
remained reasonably comfortable. Her
long hair had been bound behind her neck, but the wires from the pads the nurse
had stuck around her forehead now dangled to either side of her face. The nurse quickly checked each of the
supporting bands, pads and connectors, making adjustments here and there to be
certain all was in order.
"We
need to change your position at intervals so you don't get bedsores, or other
complications that come from being held too long in one position. Your bed here is designed to facilitate this,
so we can keep you here pretty much indefinitely, or at least as long as we
need to during your physical recovery and training. Now, one more little thing, and we'll leave
you to rest."
"Nurse,
do you have the MES ready? 200 CC
each? Good." Staring nearly at the floor now, the girl's
ability to see what happened around her was even more restricted. The doctor's shiny leather shoes appeared
next to her. The hem of his white coat
dipped, telling her he was bending to examine her right side. She felt some fumbling at a sore point she'd
sensed at the front of her right armpit, then a sensation of growing tightness
and weight in her right breast. He was
inflating her with the liquid plastic.
"We
like to do these injections with the subject in the prone position because that
allows more even tension across the skin, and the fewest stretch
marks." He disconnected what the
girl imagined to be a large syringe and moved to her left side. "These injections are 200 CC each. As your breasts expand we'll be able to
increase the size of each injection. The
rubdown Twelve gave your titties earlier - did you enjoy that? - that was a
compound we've developed which encourages the growth of new skin. It's all part of our integrated expansion
technique, which is the most advanced in the world. There," he concluded, disconnecting the
second syringe. Her boobs felt taut and
heavy.
"Mix
them up for her, Twelve." The girl
saw an pair of black, spike-heeled, calf-high boots enter her field of
view. The needle-like heels must have
been 6 inches tall, and the boot tops were bound with rows of tight-buckled
straps. The slim legs that rose out of
the boots were clad in baggy, shiny latex.
The nurse stood directly above her head and bent over her, so that the
white outer uniform brushed her subject's head.
She reached forward and under the girl's chest, cupped a hanging tit in
each gloved hand and shook them gently, allowing the sensitive skin to bump and
slide within her clawed fingers. Then
she kneaded the tight, plump boobs, lightly but taking care to work the entire
surface. None of this treatment was
painful, but the strapped girl blushed at the violation, at her utter
helplessness to defend the privacy and dignity of her own body. Finally the nurse finished the massage and
stepped back.
"I'm
going to turn the electrostim on now."
A switch was flipped, and the suspended girl felt the promised creepy-crawlies
all over her feet and ankles. "The
sensors on your head monitor your brain activity, information that we'll use in
many ways throughout your training.
Tonight their only purpose is to monitor your sleep, and make sure
you're properly prepared to begin your real training the next time I see
you. We've had a very productive first
session! You probably won't sleep very
well, but try not to think too hard about all that's happened, and get some
rest. You still have a lot of healing to
do." The room lights dimmed until
the girl could barely see the white tile floor, a few feet from her face.
Two
sets of footsteps clicked and clacked away from the girl, until they were cut
off by the bang of the closing door. It
was quiet, and nearly dark. Despite her
many pains and emotional distress, the first thing the girl thought of was
sleep. She had begun the day already
worn down by her several recent surgeries, and the emotional shocks and
physical trials she had endured had tapped her last reserves of energy. She was ashamed at how she had surrendered to
the demands of her captor, at how close she'd already come to giving up hope
for escape or rescue, but she had just been too tired to resist. If she could manage even a few hours of
sleep, maybe she could be stronger tomorrow.
She did not like the sound of "training," but she pushed fears
of the future out of her mind as she closed her eyes.
Bound
upside down in this mad scientist's laboratory, in pain from shoulder to toe,
perforated with piercing and IVs and injection ports and feeling as though she
wore socks stuffed with bugs, the girl fell asleep almost immediately....
---------------------------------------
Bzzzzt!
A
loud, grating sound filled the girl's head, and the room lights flashed. She awoke slowly, stunned and sluggish. What happened? It was dark again. She closed her eyes and drifted off once
more...
Bzzzzt!
Again
the flashing lights and penetrating sound.
They weren't going to let her sleep!
But he'd promised! He'd told her
she should! Maybe it was just some kind
of electrical short........
Bzzzzzzzt!
"No,
you haff to let meh thleep! He thed ah
could thleep!" The immobilized girl
cried out to the empty room, and wept, her tears making little splatters on the
tile floor.
In
fact her developer was allowing her to sleep. She did need rest to speed her healing, and
he did not want to delay her recovery any more than necessary. Time is money after all, in the production of
pleasure companions as in any venture.
But rapid-eye movement sleep was another matter. REM is the stage of sleep during which dreams
occur, memories are organized, and most of the "re-charging" of the
mind that's associated with restful nights occurs. The developer had set the brainwave monitor
and room systems to watch for the telltale patterns of REM, and awaken the girl
when they were detected.
When
her next session began his subject would have recovered somewhat physically,
while remaining nearly as exhausted mentally as she had been at the start of
the rest period. She would be well
prepared for the next steps in her transformation.
[...]
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