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The overhead lights flickered back to life again,
accompanied this time by the bang of the swinging door and the click of
heels. A long string of drool trailed from
the girl's slack lower lip toward a puddle of saliva and tears on the
floor. Wordlessly, the nurse bent and
mopped up the mess. When the floor was
spotlessly clean again she set a plastic tub below the captive's downturned
face. A check of the bands, a change of
the IV bag, and the tall black boots moved away from the inverted table. Silently, the urine valve was opened and the
girl moaned quietly with relief. The
nurse's tall heels clicked out the door, and the lights dimmed again.
The night dragged on - if night in
fact it was. The girl realized she had
no way of judging the time from inside the sterile white cell. Eight hours or eighty, her resting time
seemed to drag on forever, punctuated by the forced awakenings and more brief
visits from the nurse. At first it
seemed she was awakened every few minutes by the lights and loud buzz, but soon
her body learned what depth of sleep was allowed it and she dozed lightly for
longer stretches, at times half aware of herself cruising just below the
surface of wakefulness. Toward the end
of the dark "night" her body felt saturated with sleep, though her
brain was still dull and it took an effort to focus her thoughts. When she could no longer sleep and had tired
of weeping at her many abuses, she passed tedious hours practicing how to form
words with her newly-impaired lips.
The dosage of drugs administered to
her had been reduced, which combined with the rest left the girl feeling much
stronger physically. The tranquilizers
had been cut off completely, and fear weighed on the helpless captive more
heavily than during her first session with the developer. But she was angry, too, both at what had been
done to her and at herself for her weakness.
Despite the lingering mental fatigue she was determined to resist the
evil "doctor," and the process being methodically applied to
her. She was looking forward to his
return - she had been practicing some choice words for the doctor and was eager
to tell him what she thought of him and his clinic.
Once again the rapid clicking
footsteps of the spike-heeled nurse entered the room. The electrostimulator was shut down, and the
swarms of imaginary ants disappeared from the girl's feet. Again the girl felt the silent wave of relief
that accompanied the release of urine from her plugged bladder. After fumbling for a moment with some tools
the nurse approached her right side. The
captive subject felt rubber fingers groping for the injection port at her
armpit, and a soft click as the syringe was connected.
"Don't do dat! Please, don't help dem!" The nurse never hesitated, and as she slowly
pressed the plunger the girl felt tightness build again in her swelling breast,
which had relaxed considerably during the resting time. She sighed, having expected her plea would go
unanswered. She was sure the masked
nurse was a brainwashed slave of the clinic, and could not blame her for what
she did. As the injection was repeated
at her left side, she sensed the new weight in her growing boobs and wondered
how large they were now. Prevented by
the restraints from tilting her head downwards, she could only guess. But when the nurse reached under her to
agitate their liquid plastic filling, the girl could tell that they had already
grown to larger than comfortable handfuls.
The nurse threw levers at the back
of the table and flipped the girl backwards till she was staring up again, into
the lights and the now darkened video screen.
The nurse stood over her and again massaged the warming skin-growth
lotion into her subject's swollen breasts.
It was a strange sensation, the greased rubber fingers gliding gently
over nerve-rich skin that was stretched taut now over the plastic-filled
bubbles. The girl felt a tingle of
pleasure as the fingers worked around her nipples, stirring guilt at first, but
then she surrendered to it. The nurse
was not her enemy - why not take a break from this nightmare and enjoy a
moment? Her lids grew heavy but she
remembered not to close her eyes.
When the thorough breast massage was
complete, the nurse began releasing the rigid, padded bands that restrained the
girl, and had recently supported her weight.
One at a time, she opened the bands, kneaded the flesh firmly at each
point where it had been compressed, and massaged the skin with lotion before
replacing the restraint and checking it for security. Never was more than one of the many bands
that held her released, so the girl didn't even consider trying to escape. As the nurse worked along the several bands
that constrained her arms, the girl became aware that the faintest sensations
were returning to her upper limbs, though they remained paralyzed. The last band to be released was the one that
crossed the girl's forehead. The nurse
rested two rubber-clad fingers lightly on her subject's eyelids while she
released the headband, used her free hand to massage the skin under the strap
with lotion, and then replaced the restraint.
Again the catches were flipped and
the table raised at the head, stopping this time when the captive within leaned
a few degrees back from upright. The
girl had her best view yet of her cell, and hungry eyes scanned about taking in
various cabinets, the rolling cart and stool, some button-studded panels on the
wall. There was nothing to indicate where
she might be, other than a generic hospital room. No signs written in a foreign language, no
window, no clock that she could see.
The nurse approached her with a wet
sponge and moistened the girl's involuntary smile. It felt wonderful! Then she brought a lidded plastic cup with a
flexible straw, and presented its tip to her subject's lips. At first the captive hesitated, and stared
into the nurse's bulbous silver eyes doubtfully. But why, after going to all this trouble,
would they poison her? Her lips reached
forward and grasped the straw. She took
a little sip - it was fresh, cool water, her first drink in days, and the girl
knew she'd never tasted anything better.
Her lips clamped tight around the straw, and she eagerly sucked down the
entire cup, soaking her parched throat.
The nurse set down the cup and
returned with a strange plastic device.
From a curved plate about the size of a woman's palm, a hollow-tipped
cone projected. Behind the plate the
nurse grasped a round bulb; white ribbons hung from either side of the
plate. The girl only got a quick look at
the device before the nurse touched the tip of the cone to her lips.
Again she hesitated, her mouth
closed tight. The nurse squeezed the
bulb, and a dollop of paste oozed from the cone onto the girl's lips. She sampled it carefully with her
tongue. It was thick, smooth, and a
little salty. Fine cuisine it was not,
but there was nothing foul about it. She
swallowed the dab of paste and the nurse squeezed a larger blob between her lips. The girl rolled the paste around her mouth -
it was so wonderful to eat something, anything, after how many days taking all
her nourishment via the IV. As the
second dollop slid down her throat, her stomach grumbled reflexively and she
felt her dormant hunger awaken with a vengeance. She opened her jaws a little wider and sucked
on the tip of the cone, begging for more of the salty paste.
The nurse squeezed the bulb again
lightly, sending a small blob into the eager mouth, then pushed the tip of the cone
between her subject's teeth. Surprised,
the girl tried to bite down but the cone was hard and slippery and once the
hollow point had passed her teeth there was little she could do to prevent its
entry. The nurse leaned into it and the
penetrating cone spread the girl's jaws wider, until her front teeth clicked
into grooves at its base and the curved plate touched her lips. The nurse held the device in place while she
used the white straps to secure it to either side of the headrest. When she stepped back, the girl groped with
her tongue for some purchase, tried to shake her head or do anything to force
this new violator out of her mouth. She
could not; she was securely gagged.
The door banged open and two sets of
footsteps entered. One belonged to her
"doctor."
"Good morning! Have a good night? You're looking very well."
"Ukk ooh!" was all the
girl could force past the plastic feeding gag, a tiny scrap of the elaborate
curses she'd practiced so carefully in preparation for this reunion.
"That's not very nice, after
all the care and expense we've taken with you?" He really looked disappointed. "The facial treatments, the bathing,
everything we can do to keep you healthy and comfortable. I'd hoped you'd be happy to be eating
again. That feeder will remain connected
for a while so you can take your ration at your own pace. Just in little squirts - you still have to
get used to swallowing without a gag reflex." The nurse was replacing the IV bag on the
metal stand with another clear bag, this one filled with the brownish-gray
paste. A finger's-width tube dangled
from the bag; she snapped the free end to the back of the feeder and squeezed
the bulb a few times to draw the pureed food into the tube. Still angry, but also terribly hungry, the
girl could not resist testing the connection.
A firm suction applied to the gag delivered another dollop of the paste,
now directly to the back of her mouth where she was forced to swallow it
immediately. Another pull, another
swallow. The developer watched as her
cheeks pulsed like a baby sucking slowly on a giant pacifier, and smiled again.
"Good! Now let me introduce you to another member of
your development team." He beckoned
and the set of footsteps that had entered beside his own thumped into the
girl's view. They belonged to a thick,
powerful female, clad in a baggy green smock that draped awkwardly over her
lumpy torso. This new member of the
"team" was much taller and broader than the nurse, larger even than
the developer, who the girl could see now was not a big man. The barrel-shaped, remarkably unfeminine body
was topped with a puffy round face, and short-cropped, dirty blonde hair.
"This is your physical
therapist. It's her job to maintain and
improve your flexibility while you're confined here, and eventually when you're
ready she'll train you in things like how to walk properly on your pretty new
feet, and how to make the best use of your arms. You're going to cooperate with her, aren't
you?"
The girl had stopped sucking on the gag
and now stared over it back at the developer, her cheeks puffing as she
breathed deeply. She was filled with
fear but struggled to muster her resolve.
"Go do ell, oo....ahtahd!"
The developer stepped close, and
spoke quietly. "Now, don't tell me you're going to be silly again. Remember how uncomfortable that was for you
the last time? Do you really want to go
down that road again?" The girl
just puffed at him, holding her stare.
In her mind she scowled, forgetting that her face no longer obeyed such
commands.
"Or would you rather see a new
trick?" The doctor reached toward
her face with both hands. With one he
pushed the curved plastic plate firmly against her lips, the other pinched her
nostrils. His subject's eyes widened as
she realized her air was cut off."You see how simple a thing it is? If you prove to be stubborn and untrainable,
it's such a small matter to dispose of you.
What a waste that would be, though, of your natural gifts. Really, you have so many of the qualities
that make a fine pleasure companion. I
doubt there's a career for which you're better suited. Won't you reconsider?" He released his grip on the flushing
captive's face; her nose flared as she snorted the air. He gave her a few seconds to reflect. "Well?"
She stared at him again. Somewhere a last reservoir of adrenaline was
tapped, anger overcame fear, and an unfamiliar courage flowed within her.
"Ukk ooh!"
The doctor closed her nostrils
again. "Such a silly girl. What do you think, that you can escape? How do you dream of managing that? Or that you can hold out until you're
rescued? I'd forget about that,
too. When you were recruited our agents
emptied your bank account, stole some of your favorite clothes and planted
evidence on your computer that you were thinking about dropping out, moving to
California. Your credit card was used to
purchase a plane ticket, and a few meals in LA.
People may be looking for you, but thousands of miles from where you
actually are. In a few months you'll be
written off as just another of the thousands of pretty, unhappy young women who
fall through the cracks."
The girl was beet red before the
developer let her take a few deep breaths, her chest straining against the
bands that crossed it. Tears flowed from
her now-closed eyes and rolled down her flushed cheeks. They were too organized, too ruthless. It was hopeless - she hoped he would smother
her now, and end this nightmare.
Obligingly, the developer clamped
her nose again. His face was inches from
hers as he spoke quietly and calmly.
"It's silly to think you can resist us. This is our business, which we've managed
successfully for many years. Many women
stronger and brighter than you have challenged us, and we've always won. Always, one way or another. Have you wondered how Nurse Twelve came to be
as she is? Listen to her
story." He loosened his grip and
allowed his writhing subject two more snorting, reflexive breaths - he wanted
her awake to hear the tale.
"Twelve was once a beautiful
cosmetics model, no one famous you'd be likely to recognize but very beautiful,
and she caught the eye of one of our wealthy clients. He contracted with us to recruit and convert
her into a pleasure companion for himself.
Those types of jobs, where the subject is selected purely for physical
traits rather than trainability, are always risky. Well, Twelve turned out to be a real
hellcat. She resisted at every
opportunity, and even managed to injure one of our attendants."
Veins were popping out of the girl's
throat and forehead. Her torturer
allowed her a bit more air, his experienced hands holding her at a level of
desperate, heightened consciousness.
"But what did all that struggle
bring her? Not freedom, only a lot of
pain and suffering she could have easily avoided. By resisting one of her cosmetic procedures
Twelve caused her own face to be disfigured.
The client lost interest in her, and bought out of the contract. We tried some radical new treatments, hoping
to restore her face to marketable condition.
We learned a lot from those experiments, but unfortunately for Twelve
the new treatments were proven to be... not yet perfected. But she continued to fight! Finally we turned her over to our
neurologist. After some poking around he
was able to make physical changes to her brain that have rendered her, if not
marketable, at least useful. She's one
of our few failures - if you consider such a disciplined and efficient
assistant a failure."
The girl was turning purple, her
eyes rolling back in her head as her writhing weakened.
"You see, my dear, there are
many possibilities besides cooperation, and death." The developer released his grip and
life-saving air rushed into his subject's lungs. He let her breathe deeply for a while. When he was sure she was fully alert he
touched the tip of her nose, lightly, and stared into her flushed, tear-stained
face.
"There are many possibilities,
but only one choice, for you: cooperation, and acceptance of the role
that's been assigned you. If you reject
that, then all the other choices are ours." He paused and stepped back, wiping his
fingers with a towel. "Most
pleasure companions find their new roles tolerable, at least compared to the
other possibilities, and more than a few find them enjoyable and
satisfying. So what will it be for
you?"
The gagged captive's nostrils still
flared with the effort to make up for lost breaths. She had been ready to die rather than go
along with their depraved intentions for her.
But she looked at the slim, silent nurse, standing robotically erect in
her latex suit and gasping through the breathing port in her horrible mask, and
knew there were fates worse than death.
Unable to voice her submission, the girl raised her red-rimmed eyes to
the meet the developer's, then slowly lowered them again.
He watched her carefully for a while
before accepting her capitulation.
"Good! Very good! All girls have foolish ideas sometimes but I
think you're going to turn out just fine.
I'll leave you with Ruta, then.
Cooperate with her, and you'll find she gives an excellent
massage." The developer turned to
the heavy set, beady-eyed therapist.
"I don't think she'll give you any trouble. Just the legs for now. The arms have to stay immobilized a while
longer and she still has some healing to do through the midsection. OK?"
"Da!" the big, crew-cut
woman said sharply. "Just
legs. I start easy with pretty
girl."
"Yes, start easy. You'll have plenty of time with
her." He began to leave, then
stopped at the door to address the masked, programmed nurse. "Twelve, when Ruta is finished check the
chart and do what needs to be done. Bye
for now." He directed the last
farewell toward his subject and exited with a bang.
The therapist walked slowly to stand
close in front of her subject, who still stared at the floor in despair. A heavy, thick-fingered hand brushed the
bound girl's brow, and she looked up to meet the dough-faced woman's gaze. The captive was suspended with her
downward-pointing toes some inches above the ground, but the green-clad,
sneaker-shod giant still looked her straight in the eye.
"Yesss, pretty girl for
sure. You no make trouble, no problem
for you. My job not to hurt you. But if you make trouble, like for
doctor..." Vise-like fingers suddenly crushed the captive's nipple,
bringing a whine of pain from behind the gag. "If you make trouble, maybe
you no enjoy therapy so much. Eh?"
Ruta smiled, and gently stroked her
subject's brow. She seemed to wait for a
reply, but bound and gagged the girl could neither nod nor answer. She just stared, wide eyed, as fresh fears of
unspeakable new violations flooded her, and washed away the previous terrors.
"Da! We begin." The big, ugly woman moved around the elevated
table suddenly, popped the catches and laid the girl down flat again. "First time we go easy, like doctor
say. If I push too hard, you say. Well, you gagged, but make noise. But don't be chicken! We have to push a little or it's no
good. No pain no gain, you
know." The therapist laid a bear's
paw firmly on the girl's right ankle, just above the zone of pain that
encompassed her feet. She unplugged the
electrostim wires, undid the many catches and flipped open the bands that
restrained her subject's leg.
When the leg was fully exposed, she
stroked it gently with one hand, lingering over the toned quads and calves,
while the other held the ankle firmly to the table.
"Verrry nice, strong girl. I like strong girl. So many here like little sticks, I worry to
break. You look more healthy
woman." She clapped the stroking
hand down on the knee and raised the leg toward the ceiling, pushing forward
until it pointed straight up toward the lights and the girl attached to it
groaned against the tightness of her hamstrings. Ruta stopped pushing but held the leg in
position. "Yes, you very
tight. Lay too long here. But we stretch you out."
While the therapist held the leg in
the stretched position the girl had her first chance to see her foot. Most of it was covered in tape and gauze,
white stained with antiseptic. The skin
she could see peaking through the dressings was an angry, dark-mottled yellow,
like a nasty bruise. There was no
splint. So why couldn't she flex her
ankles, beyond a little wiggle? What had
the doctor meant by "reinforced?"
"You foot hurt now, eh? Not for long.
Soon feel better, and very pretty.
Then I teach you walk on toes, like dancer. Very elegant, high class. Your man like."
After holding the leg in position
for perhaps a minute Ruta allowed it to fall a ways, then raised it again to
its maximum. Finally she laid it back on
the table, only to flex it at the knee and slowly push the knee up toward her
subject's chest.
"Nice bosoms they make for
you! Doctor here very good, they make
pretty girl extra-special. You
see!"
For some minutes the strong woman
manipulated the girl's leg, stretching the hip and knee to their limits in all
directions, heeding her subject's complaints so as not to go too far. Ruta's appearance and manner had at first
filled the restrained girl with new fears - and chased the despair of her
surrender from her mind. But as the
stretching progressed the dumpy amazon's friendly chatter, surprisingly gentle
touch, and skilled professionalism put her subject at ease. Soon she was not just tolerating the
stretching, but fully cooperating with it.
One of the worries that had troubled her, while she hung awake in her
restraints sometime late in her long "night," was that if the clinic
indeed kept her strapped to the table "indefinitely" she would lose
her hard-earned muscle tone and flexibility.
The therapy, like the gentle attention the nurse had paid to her skin
earlier, comforted the girl with its reminder that she was valuable property.
When Ruta had finished both legs and
refastened their restraints, she stood back with her hands on her hips.
"Good! When you fight with doctor I think you bad
girl, trouble maker. But you no just
pretty, you good girl! I take care of
you every day from now. Tomorrow we push
a little more, maybe, but we go slow. We
have time. When I finish you be girl of
rubber! Bye now, be good!" She waved a meaty paw as she thumped out the
door.
The girl lay dazed by the cascade of
trials and terrors she had faced in just the last hour. The terrifying memories already dimmed, of
being smothered nearly to death by a pair of pinching fingers, of the shame of
her surrender to the sadistic developer.
Had all that happened thirty minutes ago? Forty?
She tried to remember why she had resisted in the first place. It had been foolish....silly. There was no hope of rescue or escape. She had no choice but to accept her fate.
She thought of her new title:
"Custom Pleasure Companion."
She recalled the grotesque premonition of oral slavery that she'd had
during the gag-reflex test. She thought
of the weird, unnatural modifications she'd seen on the video screen, any of
which might be in store for her. Again
she thought she should be horrified, repulsed.
But it was too much for her overtaxed mind - she couldn't organize the
flood of memories and frightening visions.
Soon she gave up the useless effort,
relaxed within her bonds and stared up at the ceiling. She sucked absently on the feeder gag,
grateful for the salty paste and for the feeling of fresh blood moving in her
legs.
[....]
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