This is the second part of an intended chronicle detailing the works of a rather unpleasant man by the name of Jerry O’Connell. ( the first part being “The Object of His Affection”) Jerry is a physician, of sorts, who deals in the art of women, modifying them to suit the needs of his clients. He has a long and sordid history, which should be detailed in future installments. Some installments of this chronicle, such as this, will feature Jerry as a major character, while others will not. The storyline will, obviously, dictate this.
Before I continue, I must pay honors to Michael Moorcock, one of my favorite fantasy authors. It was from a series of books called “The Cornelius Chronicles” that I got the odd doctor’s name and the inspiration for the banner under which these stories will fit.
I will admit that this story is a bit of an experiment. Also, future installments will be a bit repetitive as I intend on making each one independent, so as not to lose new readers as I chronicle each “adventure”.
I also wish to thank “Banfann”, an author of absurdly excellent tales within this genre. His latest series “The Exposition of Modified Women” is one of great imagination. Before seeing this series I had imagined this tale to be quite long, and I was severely struggling with it. His display, that shorter can sometimes be better gave me the necessary mindset to present this as a short.
Finally, as this is an experiment, future installments will rely greatly on reader responses. I’ve no plan in beating this horse onward if it is dead, no matter how much I am enjoying its misery. That said, I present to you, dear reader, the second installment of “The Chronicles of Jerry O’Connell”.
One Man’s Art
Prologue:
The girl on the closed circuit monitor was beautiful. Her long auburn hair and flashing gray eyes gave way to a face of pristine innocence, coupled with fiery sexuality. She was one of those rare girls who had “It”. Her bust was full and proud, standing out from her chest at constant and full attention. Her slim waist gave way to robust and full hips, and led to long muscular legs, capped off by a posterior that seemed impossibly round and full. If an artist had depicted the perfect woman, it would have been her. Yet, she was here to be changed, modified forever.
Jerry broke his gaze from the monitor and thumbed the file at hand. A long time client had brought her in for modification. Clearly, this was to be another of his household treasures. Exactly what, he had no idea as yet. So it was that he departed his office and made his way to receive his guest.
“Francis, how are you?” Jerry issued as he cheerfully entered the client waiting room.
The girl was seated in a restraint chair beside a well-dressed man. She had been carefully bound arms, legs and head to the sturdy chair. A gag fit into her mouth, cutting off any possibility of speech. She watched, fearfully, as the men joined in discussion.
“I see you have another girl for us to work on for you. Though, I am curious what you could want this time. Your house must be full of our creations.”
Francis smiled, proffering a hand to the man in the white cravat. He had never seen Jerry fail to wear it and wondered if it were attached to him. “I’ve something a little different in mind, Jerry.”
“Let’s see, we have made a chair, a desk, a coffee table, a lamp…we even crafted a nice couch for you out of a couple of girls you brought in”, Jerry stated, reading from the contents of the manila folder he carried. “We are even making a statue for you. What else could you want?”
The girl’s eyes grew wide with Jerry’s utterances. She tugged at her bindings, her attempted screams issuing forth like a ragged voiced seagull.
“Art”, answered the man. “I have furniture, but no art for my wall.”
“She seems to be a work of art already”, Jerry replied. “What could you possibly have in mind?”
“Have a look”, Francis said, pulling a piece of paper from his coat pocket. “I want that.”
“This is quite an interesting drawing. Where do you intend on putting it?”
“It should go in my main room.” Francis responded. “Right in the middle, where it can be admired properly. Can you do it?”
“You’ll need to alter the room a bit. A piece like this needs a place to house the waste disposal unit and the other electrical equipment that goes with it. You will also need to be able to access it readily, to maintain it. It can be done, though”, Jerry said as he folded up the drawing and slipped it into his pocket.
Francis smiled, knowingly. “I’m way ahead of you, Jerry. I already have the plans drawn up and inspected. It should be ready in six weeks. How long do you think it will take you to finish it?”
“It’ll take a few months. The healing after the internal processing can be most time consuming”, Jerry told him. “Everyone heals in their own time, so I can’t be sure; except for allowing that it will take at least three months. Immobilization might be a problem…at least parts of it. Incidentally, do you want to allow any head movement or should that be immobilized, as well?”
More motion and muffled screams from the girl caught the men’s attention. Francis thought for a moment as his gaze met that of the frightened girl.
“I’ll leave that to you. I trust your judgment. I am certain that when you have finished, she will be an excellent piece of art.”
Jerry smiled at the man, offering his hand. “I’ll call you with the necessary measurements as soon as they are worked out.”
Chapter 1
The girl lay naked on the bed, arms and legs well restrained. She had given up screaming long since, figuring her best and only method of escape would be one of negotiation. The room in which she was housed was now empty, those who brought her in having left long ago. It was a well-lit room, cold and white, featureless but for the array of lights which shone brightly above her.
During her trip from the initial processing room to the room in which she now waited, she had observed several creations that were under process. A weeping girl with posts protruding from her shoulders had been fit with artificial limbs. Another was possessed of breasts that were far too large for her stature. Yet another had been molded as a statue, vulgarly servicing two satyrs.
She closed her eyes, concentrating on what she might say to whoever would listen. She would be calm, she told herself. Her argument would be rational and thoughtful. She would explain how she should not be turned into a piece of art. Her family had money; more money than most people dreamed of. She would bribe her captor with that. Should that fail, she could always offer some sort of sexual favor if they would only let her go. She would get out of her predicament…she had to.
Jerry’s entrance broke her from her thoughts. He was smiling, still wearing the white cravat she had seen him in some days before. She spoke behind her gag, hoping he would remove it. Understanding her garbled want he nodded his head and removed the gag.
“Please let me go. My parents have money…they can pay you more than what he is paying”, she begged.
Jerry smiled down at her, his face becoming sympathetic. “How old are you?”
“I’m eighteen. I just turned eighteen a month ago”, she said, her voice desperate, sad and fearful.
“Well, child…I am sorry for you. But it’s already decided. You are going to adorn his wall for the next…well, for a long time. Do you know what you are to be?”
She studied his face for a moment, noting the sympathy in his eyes. “No…no, I don’t”
“You are going to be cast in a frame. You will be the artwork it holds”, he told her.
“What do you mean…like a painting?” the girl asked, astounded at the notion.
“Quite…but more than a painting”, he replied. “I dare say you will become a most stunning piece of art, my dear.”
“I have money…my parents have money…whatever he’s paying you we can pay more! Please don’t do this”, she cried.
“It’s already done, my dear. You are going to be what you are going to be.”
Again, the girl pleaded. “What do you want? You can fuck me…I’ll blow you. Anything!”
“Quiet now, my dear”, Jerry shushed her. “Open you mouth so I can replace the gag.”
“Please”, she cried. “I’ll be quiet.”
“Don’t make this harder, my dear. Resistance is not going to make things any easier.”
Resigned to the fact that she had little choice in the matter, she relented.
Just then a man with glasses and clipboard entered the room. Like Jerry, and everyone else she had seen, he wore a white cravat. “What’s the plan, Jerry?”
“Artificial teeth – white” he started. “After that, a full internal processing; sterilization, redirect her urinary tract and the anal valve. Her breasts are fine, so we won’t make any changes there.”
The man was scribbling behind his clipboard, ignoring the girl as she screamed behind her gag, as Jerry spoke. “Anything else?”
“Yes”, he said, pulling Francis’ drawing from his pocket. “Have one of our artists draw this up on a large scale. I need measurements and solutions to whatever problems he thinks might arise. Also, I need suggestions as to the best way to accomplish this. Also, I don’t want her to be immobile…I want to allow for movement. I think it will set off the piece nicely if it has life.”
The man scurried off, taking the picture with him.
Chapter 2
The girl woke from her dreams, imagining that she was safe in her bed. Stretching, she opened her eyes to find that she was not at home but in a room that was completely foreign. Sitting up, she surveyed the room around her. It was white and completely devoid of furnishings. The only distinctive characteristics about the room were the two doors, one with a sign that clearly marked it as the bathroom. The other door, she knew, led to a horror beyond belief.
Quickly surmising that she had no way of fashioning an effective weapon from her mattress and bed sheets, she decided to find if there were something she could use from the bathroom. Unfortunately, the bathroom was empty as her sleeping quarters, having only a roll of tissue, the toilet and the sink. As she exited the room she was graced with the presence of Jerry and two other men, clad in white cravats.
“What do you want?” she shot at Jerry, covering her nakedness to the best of her abilities.
“Come with us, my dear”, he ordered.
“Fuck you!” she responded.
If anyone had witnessed the battle between men and girl, they would have said that she gave a good account of herself, having knocked one of the men to the floor with a picture perfect right cross. However, the outcome was inevitable and she soon found herself strapped to a gurney and wheeled into the processing chamber. In short order she was unconscious and undergoing the first in a series of procedures that would change her life forever.
Many hours later she was wheeled, still unconscious, into the recovery room and attached to an IV. It would be several weeks before she would be allowed to awaken from her drug induced slumber.
When, finally, she was allowed to regain consciousness it was to find that she was alone and in the very same room where she had battled Jerry and two of his staff members. Remembering Jerry’s words, she quickly took stock of herself. Nothing she could find indicated that anything had been done to her and she began to wonder if it was not all a cruel joke.
“My teeth…he said he was going to…” she thought. A quick examination of her teeth found no anomalies. Still she was unsatisfied. Leaving her bed, she discovered that she was not quite herself, the long period of sedation and inactivity taking its toll. Righting herself after nearly tumbling to the floor, she slowly made her way to the bathroom, hoping to find a mirror in which she might more thoroughly examine her teeth. To her disappointment there was no mirror. What she found, however, was quite odd. The toilet was no longer there. In its stead was a small padded seat. From the middle of the seat protruded an odd tapered shaft. Just then, she turned, hearing the creak of her room’s front door, to see Jerry entering her room. Slowly, and on unsteady legs, she made her way out of the bathroom, a questioning look on her face as she moved her hands to cover her intimate areas.
“What did you do to me?” she asked him, clearly perplexed at finding no visible changes.
“What’s your name, my dear?” Jerry was smiling at her.
“Lindsey. I thought…what did you do…how long have I been…?” she began.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that the toilet is not as it was before”, he started, interrupting the girl. “You will need to be instructed as to how to use it. And you will have to use it, Lindsey. Now, you want to know what we’ve done, eh?”
She looked on at the man, not understanding what use she might have with the odd shaft.
“Well, my dear, your urinary tract has been routed to your colon. Your colon has been fit with a valve to prevent any mishaps and your anal sphincter has been replaced with a sort of elastic “O” ring”, he stated flatly. “You have been sterilized…actually, you have had…well, I won’t go into too many details. Suffice to say that your breasts and vaginal opening are all that remain of your womanhood.”
Horrified, she looked on, tears forming in her eyes as Jerry continued.
“Your teeth and gums have been replaced with a realistic synthetic, so as to avoid future dental problems”, he continued. “Also, your intestinal tract has been modified rather severely. We also took the liberty of removing your appendix. There is a bit more to it than that, but that is the upshot. This is usually the first process we put our creations through since it is the most traumatic. Oh, it’s been roughly six weeks since the surgeries.”
The girl had sunk to the floor as Jerry had spoken of the changes made to her. Now, head in hands, she wept.
“I realize that this is difficult for you”, Jerry said, sounding sympathetic. “But, you must understand that it is all necessary before we complete the next portion of your processing. I suspect that, once you find your place in our client’s home, you will think of yourself as relatively lucky.”
“Lucky?” she asked, incredulously. “How can I be lucky after all you have done to me? You bastard! You fucking prick! How could you do this to me?”
Ignoring her angry comments, Jerry began again. “After I leave the room an orderly will bring you your meal. It is important that you drink it down. After a few hours you will notice some discomfort. You will feel a bit gassy, for lack of a better term.
This is an indication that you will need to void your body of wastes…”
The girl listened to the man, absorbing his words through the jolts and jerks of her tears, mortified at his instructions for using the post in the bathroom.
“You expect me to put that post up my ass and give myself an enema?” she screamed. “Fuck you…fuck you!”
“My dear, Lindsey” he said, “If you don’t you will die a terribly painful death.”
“Then I’ll die. I would rather die than end up as some piece of…furniture for some perverts pleasure!” she screamed.
“So be it”, Jerry spat as he spun and headed out the door.
Some minutes after Jerry’s departure, the door creaked open. Lindsey watched as a tall woman approached her, placing a bottle in front of her. “Dinner”, said the woman before departing.
For the next several hours, Lindsey ignored the bottle, refusing to drink from it. Eventually, she gave in to her body’s needs and, after removing the lid, drank the slightly sweet tasting contents, throwing the bottle against the door as she swallowed the last of it. Then, exhausted from her trauma, she retired to the mattress from which she had recently awakened.
She woke to find that, just as Jerry had predicted, she felt a mild discomfort in her belly. Refusing to take action she let it build. Before many hours had passed she was feeling a terrible pain. Still, she was determined that she would die before she would sit on the terrible phallus in the bathroom. Eventually, however, it was more than she could take and she decided to end her suffering.
She stared for many minutes at the horrible post, generating the courage to seat herself upon it. Much of her thoughts dwelled on her preference for death. But the pain grew too great and, before long, she found herself sliding the horrible thing into her posterior opening. Strangely, she noted, it was not painful. In fact, she could barely feel it. After she heard the pop that Jerry had told her would indicate she was properly seated she reached down and pushed the lever that would release her from her pain.
The sudden outward flow was nearly instantaneous. So was the sudden inward flow of warm liquid that followed. Surprised by the uncomfortable inward flow, she attempted to flee the horrible post but found that she could not. She was, for all intents and purposes, trapped on the device. She reached out, one hand against the wall and the other on the sink. Bracing her legs, she attempted to flee the device that was pumping liquid inside of her body.
“Please…my God, please…” she pleaded to no one, struggling to free herself from the device holding her fast.
Still fighting against the device, she felt the uncomfortable fullness leave her, the liquid being sucked out of her. Just then, a beep sounded, startling her. Then, as quickly as she had become trapped on the horrible phallus, she was freed from it. Slowly, she made her way from the bathroom to her bedding, where she buried her face in her pillow, crying at the horrible thing she had been forced to do.
Chapter 3
For the next several weeks, she was put through a regiment of exercise. She protested initially, finally cooperating after reasoning that exercise was far better than the interminable boredom she faced doing nothing in her room.
After several weeks of exercise, during which her body regained much of the muscle tone it had lost during her long time under sedation, Jerry, accompanied by the men who had overtaken her previously, visited her once again. Her struggles on this occasion were no less desperate. Nor were they any more successful.
As she was being wheeled into the room where she was to be fitted with more modifications, she began pleading with her captors again. More offers of money and sex were made, as were threats and promises of retribution. These were met with amused glances and low chuckles.
Jerry left her side as they entered the room, inspecting the instruments to be used during this next procedure. After ensuring that everything was as it should be, he turned to a small plastic box, filled with what appeared to be tiny silver tubes. Turning to her, he smiled an imperious smile, bringing one of the small tubes to bear.
“You’ll notice that these fittings are threaded inside. You’ll find out why later. I want it to be a bit of a surprise” he began. “You will also notice the small holes in the side. What we are going to do, thanks to the genius of our art and engineering department, is imbed these into your skeletal structure. Notice the small lip at the end? This one will be embedded into your fingertip, the pin will fit through the bone and the tube, ensuring it doesn’t shift or pull out. Others will be embedded in strategic places through out your body. Of course, this will require a bit of reinforcement to your skeletal structure, but I don’t wish to bore you with the finer details.”
As expected, the girl began ranting again. Her voice only dying out as the applied anesthesia took effect.
As before, she was kept sedated for some weeks after her procedure had been completed. No chances were taken with the healing process. Jerry had deemed, long ago, that keeping their projects under sedation following such traumatic procedures was both beneficial and necessary.
She was lying on her back when her eyes fluttered open. After many groggy minutes of ceiling staring, she felt the need to expel her wastes. So, leaving the comfort of her mattress, she walked to the bathroom and seated herself upon the hated tube that would alleviate her discomfort.
After eliminating her wastes she returned to her bed, pulling the sheets around her. It was then that she saw the shiny metal lip of the threaded metal tubing that had been embedded in her fingertips. Frantic at the sight of her finger’s modification she began a long adventure of discovery. After a long and thorough self-examination she threw herself down on her bedding, to cry into her pillow. The implants, it seemed to her, were everywhere.
Over the next few days, great attention was paid to her new changes. Every six hours, nurses would come in and inspect the new additions to her body. These were the only breaks in the monotony of her time in the room and she began to look forward to them. The nurses would chat with her as they inspected her, making certain that none of the implants had shifted or became infected. Most carefully they inspected the inserts in her feet, since walking on them would make them the most likely candidates to develop complications. Fortunately, the inserts proved to be quite sturdy and she showed no sign of infection or rejection.
After several weeks of inspections, it was deemed that she was ready to take the next step in her processing. The engineering department had completed their end of the task and she was ready to be merged into their creation. It was on this day that Jerry entered the room, smiling as usual and accompanied by the men who had subdued her on two previous occasions.
Knowing the inevitable, she did not fight, nor did she attempt to hide her nakedness. She had expected to be strapped down, once again. Instead, and much to her surprise, she was led out of the room on her own two feet. Upon leaving the room, one of the men applied a thick metal collar to her neck, commenting to Jerry that projects should be fit with such a device immediately upon entering the Facility. Jerry only chuckled at the man as he rubbed his jaw in memory of the right cross the girl had felled him with.
She was led down several different corridors, passing the room where her most recent procedure had been performed, before entering into a room that was far larger than any she had seen thus far. Along the far wall and resting on a wide platform, was a metal picture frame of intricate design.
“It’s eight feet tall, six feet wide and two feet deep”, Jerry told her as they approached the construct.
Staring at up at the frame she took note of the many gunmetal gray spokes hanging along the frames inner edge. They were no more than an eighth of an inch thick and she wondered at their purpose. The spokes were most noticeable along the top of the frame as they dangled and danced, chiming against each other in a dull metallic symphony.
Just then, a man wearing a white jumpsuit approached them. “What do you think, Jerry?”
“Excellent work, Bill”, Jerry told the man. “ I just hope we have the lengths right.”
Smiling, the man winked at Jerry, “That’s what this session is for. To make any necessary adjustments.”
“Of course”, returned Jerry.
The girl stood atop a wide platform, just inside the large picture frame. After
a moment of uncertainty, she noticed that the man had positioned himself on
the same platform immediately behind her. Then, reaching up to the top of the
box, he freed a long spoke from its secured position above her, letting it hang
behind her.
“Hold still”, he told her, placing his arm around her, his hand on her naked belly.
She was shocked by the familiarity at which the man placed his and on her stomach. Then she felt him begin threading the dangling spoke into one of the many implants in her back.
“No!” she cried out, bolting forward.
The man in the jumpsuit grasped her firmly as she began her flight, causing them to tumble to the floor in a heap. She struggled hard to break free from the man. Just then, a terrible pain struck her. She screamed and doubled up into a ball on the cold floor. The pain subsided momentarily and then began again.
“That’s what the collar is for, my dear”, Jerry informed her. “We need your cooperation…well, we don’t need it. But it certainly is easier if we do have it. I would very much appreciate your cooperation.”
“Fuck you!” she screamed.
“I was afraid of this”, Jerry sighed, clicking the collar’s remote. “That was just the low pain setting. I guess it’s time to try a higher one.”
She convulsed, violently, screaming loudly as the collar around her neck sent a powerful electrical current through her. Jerry watched, seemingly disinterested, occasionally glancing at his watch’s second hand. Finally he relented, offering her relief if she would cooperate. Met with a disappointing response, Jerry triggered the collar another time, watching his timepiece as she writhed; screaming, where she lay.
“Is that enough for you, my dear, or shall we try again?” he asked the girl.
“Please…no more”, she whimpered.
“Then I will expect you to cooperate with us. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes…just don’t…please…I just need…” she let out, her voice filled with defeat.
“Very well then”, Jerry said. “You’ve about sixty seconds to recover. After that, I expect full cooperation.”
Her minute passed quickly, after which she was repositioned on top of the platform. Then she felt the familiar warmth of the man’s hand on her belly as he began attaching the dangling spoke to her back. When the man had finished with his initial task, she had eight strands of metal spokes finding purchase in her ribs, just beside her spinal column, and fanning out to attach to the top and sides of the frame.
After repositioning himself to the girl’s right, he reached out to the side of the box and drew out another shorter spoke. “Right arm, out and up”, he said to her.
“Please…” the girl said, only to find a sharp tingle emanating from the collar on her neck.
Prompted by the light reminder, she obeyed the man, reaching out towards him. The man took her index finger in hand, pulling her towards him, somewhat. Then, as she expected, he threaded a spoke into the insert in her fingertip. Horrified, she watched as, finger by finger, she was slowly incorporated into the workings within the picture frame.
“Why are you doing this?” she cried to Jerry, staring at her right hand. “Please stop. Let me go.”
The man in the white jumpsuit repositioned himself, yet again; this time to her left. Again, he ordered she raise her arm towards him. Crying, she obeyed, her despair becoming greater by the moment, aided by her growing humiliation at aiding her captors. One by one, she watched each of her fingers become one with the metal spokes.
Stepping from the platform, the man came to stand in front of the girl, noting to Jerry that she looked like a worshipper awaiting the coming of God.
“How tight is she?” Jerry asked the man.
“Not very”, he blurted. “But the spoke tension can be adjusted. Once we have her completely engaged, we will make adjustments.”
“What about the cross pieces? I want those to look real”, Jerry told the man.
“Don’t worry, the cross pieces are going to look real. Like the spokes, they are made of a titanium alloy that is highly flexible”, he said. “Once we have the measurements completed and the cross pieces attached, we are going to spray it with a polymer to keep it from rattling and to add the proper visual.”
“Excellent”, Jerry was practically beaming. “Well, you might as well finish up. We have a rather anxious client awaiting this piece.”
Some two hours later, the work was complete. The men stepped back to admire their captive, who now hung in the middle of the frame, her entire weight now being supported by the frame’s metal spokes.
“You look lovely, my dear”, Jerry told her. “You were wonderful. I truly appreciate you cooperating so well.”
As miserable as she had been, Jerry’s words cut into her, filling her with shame and humiliation. Though she had fought, she knew she should have fought harder. What was the pain compared to this torture, after all? It was nothing. And yet, she cooperated. She was, she felt, as guilty as anyone.
Her self-loathing was cut short by a loud mechanical noise. Unseen above her, a man had begun ratcheting the spokes. First one and then another was ratcheted. Slowly, she felt herself being pulled taught. Finally, when the tension was deemed proper, she was commanded to move. Obeying, she felt herself shake amidst the strands of metal.
“That’s perfect”, Jerry blurted. “Now, check the placement of the implant in the back of her head to the top center spoke and get it ready. I intend on delivering her next week.”
Entering the frame from its rear, Bill began screwing a swivel into the back of her head. Then, after having her lean her head back, he clipped a small swivel to the strand directly behind the attached swivel and began threading the two together.
“Alright, do you have it all?” Jerry asked the foreman.
“Got it”, he replied.
“Good, let’s get her down so you can get to finishing this little project”, Jerry said.
Back in her room, Lindsey lay on her bed crying. For long and long she pondered her fate, wondering how she could have cooperated as she had. She had held up one hand and then the other. Then, as if that had not been bad enough, she had done the same with each leg, allowing herself to be manipulated as if she were a puppet.
“It won’t happen again” she thought. “I’ll die first!”
Her time to contemplate her recent trauma was short lived. A woman entering her room commanded she get up and follow behind her. Then, turning from the girl, she held up the remote to her collar, requesting she not be forced to use it. Knowing it was futile and purposeless to disobey, she followed the woman.
“This is your last stop”, she told the girl, motioning for her
to take to the bed in the room’s middle. Once atop the bed, she was strapped
down and anesthetized.
She screamed upon waking to find that her beautiful hair had been removed. Her screams went unheard, however, due to the strange obstruction she felt in her throat. Her ability to speak had not entirely disappeared; she had screamed. However, she found that her voice no longer had any volume beyond a loud whisper.
It was several hours later that Jerry came to her room. “It’s almost time, my dear. Now stand up so I can have a good look at you.”
“What did you do to me?” she whispered, sitting up on her bed. “Why did you shave my head? What did you do to my voice?”
“Stand up”, he repeated, displaying her collar’s remote. She was shaking, tears flowing from her eyes as she stood, fearful of the pain he could inflict upon her.
Jerry took little note of her question, instead focusing on examining the many implants embedded into her rib cage.
“Why? Why did you do this to me?” she cried, still demanding an answer.
“It isn’t shaved. It’s been permanently removed, like the rest of your hair. We made it into a wig. You’ll be wearing it very soon”, he told her, his voice seemingly disinterested. “The reason you can’t speak above a whisper is the feeding tube I installed. It’s a bit intrusive, but it will ease your daily feeding routine.”
More tears fell from the girl’s eyes. “Answer me! Why are you doing this?”
“It’s what I do”, he said. “Sit down, I need to check your feet.”
“Please…please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Just please let me go”, she whimpered, still obeying his commands.
Several minutes passed before Jerry was satisfied with her state. As he completed his task he smiled, secure in the knowledge that his charge’s implants had not been damaged.
It was several days later when she next saw Jerry. Like his previous visit he reviewed her body, clinically, looking for any signs that the implants had suffered damage. Satisfied that they were holding up properly he stood, taking her hand.
“It’s time”, he said.
Tears fell from her eyes as she sat staring at the man. She had found the will, for the moment, to resist him. But after writhing on the ground in terrible agony for several minutes, her will was less sturdy. Inevitably, she found herself walking the long walk to meet her fate.
As the door opened to the terrible room, she saw the frame. Again, she found the resolve to fight her tormentor, taking flight. She was felled after running no more than ten paces, whispering her tormented screams. Jerry aided her in regaining her feet, saying nothing. Then, leading her by the arm, Jerry led her to stand in front of her horror.
“Ready, Bill?” Jerry asked the man in the white jumpsuit.
“Bring her here and we’ll get started”, the man replied.
Lindsey looked up at Jerry, her eyes pleading. “Please don’t…please.”
Jerry ignored her, leading her to the man who awaited her.
A sudden chill shook her body as the other man grasped her arm. She bolted again, determined not to falter, only to be felled by another painful burst of electrical current from the hated collar. So intense was the pain on this occasion that she thought she might die. By the time Jerry relented, she wished she had.
“Get up”, Bill commanded.
Struck by the weight of what was to come, she burst out in tears. She crawled to Jerry’s feet, grasping his pant leg, begging him for mercy. “Please, please…don’t make me do this”, she cried.
“Up”, said the other man, grasping her arm and lifting her from the floor.
She did not fight. She did not attempt to flee. She merely stood on the wide platform and allowed the man to fasten the frame’s spokes to the row of inserts along her spinal column.
“Right arm, up and out”, she heard him say.
Slowly, she lifted her arm. As before, he began attaching the metallic tendrils to the girl. One by one, she watched as the threaded spokes were fastened to her fingers, until she no longer had use of her hand.
“Left arm, up and out”, she heard his voice command. Obediently, she did as commanded, watching his every movement until the fingers of her left hand were firmly secured.
After checking to make certain that all connections were correct, the man stepped from the platform and ordered, “Right leg, out.”
She stood stock still, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please…please don’t do this to me”, the whispered voice pled.
The familiar tingle from the collar returned, prompting her to lift her right leg from the platform and stretch it towards the man. With the proper spoke fixed into the implant set within her heel, her crying became more intense.
“Left leg, out”, she heard him say.
“Please!” she blurted through her tears. “Please, don’t.”
“Left leg, out!” he demanded, his words in sync with the familiar tingling.
Slowly then, and with tears running from her eyes, she lifted her leg, allowing the implants to take her full weight, and placed her foot in the man’s hand. In a moment, she was firmly secured to the frame, with only a few more spokes to attach to her lovely body.
“Remove the collar, get the cross pieces and her hair on, secure the waste control valve and get her boxed”, Jerry told the man. “I want this to slide into place and be hooked up and ready by the weekend.”
“No problem, chief”, Bill replied.
Jerry turned and strode towards the door. Then, just before exiting the room, he turned to face her. Admiring his creation he smiled. “You look beautiful, my dear. You will fit in quite well.” Then he turned and was gone from her sight.
The majority of the anxiety she felt left her after Jerry’s departure. She had managed to find that place of self-preservation that humans are blessed with. It was a place of solitude and numb acceptance of whatever was to come. Within that temporary state, she was barely aware of the men who applied the finishing touches to the prison in which she now lived. Neither did she take much note when the waste control valve was installed within her posterior opening.
Finally, upon her being boxed in a large wooden crate, she slept, dreaming of more pleasant times when life was life and horrors like this were unknown to her.
The girl woke to find herself in a large and warmly lit room. Across from her, she could see a wall adorned with rich paintings and antique rugs. The floor, what she could see of it, was carpeted as decadently as the walls, in deep reds offset by intricate patterns of various colors. In the far corner to her right stood a statue. It appeared to be made of marble and, despite its vulgar depiction, merged well with the ancient feel of the room. She had seen it before but could not recall where.
As seemed to always be the case, Jerry was there. He was directing the activities of the workers who were installing the frame she inhabited into the wall behind her. The whirring sound of drills brought her more fully awake and she realized that the frame was being fixed to the wall.
“Alright, bring in the back, secure it and we’re done”, said an unseen voice.
Behind her, she heard the scraping of metal against metal as the men pushed the back piece into place behind her. More whirring of drills could be heard as they fastened the back piece in place.
“Bill, check to see that the stimulator is working”, Jerry called out. A moment ticked by. Suddenly the girl stiffened, her body tensing from the low amperage current flowing through her body.
“That’s good. Now set the timer for regular nightly intervals”, he told the man. “We don’t want this piece to whither into atrophy.”
“Is it ready?” asked an unseen voice.
“Ah, Francis…yes, it’s ready”, Jerry responded. “Come see what we have wrought.”
She watched then, as the man who had commissioned her horror came to stand beside Jerry. For many moments they stood, silently admiring the girl. Then her eyes lost focus and she drifted into daydreams, thinking of the things she should and should not have done. She never should have been out alone on that night when Francis had picked her up, nor should she have accepted his offer of a ride. She should have turned him down. She should have been more cautious. Above all, she never should have cooperated with Jerry, no matter how much pain she suffered. It had been a terrible pain, but not so terrible as this.
“I deserve this”, she thought. Then she closed her eyes, praying for the release of sleep.
“I’ve one last thing to show you, Francis”, Jerry said to the man.
“What is it?”
“We needed an artists rendering of your drawing…something our engineers could more fully grasp. It seems that our artist got a bit carried away. At any rate, it was so strikingly beautiful that I decided to have it framed for you. I think you’ll like it”, he told the man, ripping the paper from the formerly unseen painting.
Within a frame exactly like the one that now decorated Francis’ wall, was a painting of brilliant tones. Set against a midnight background was a mass of three spider webs. Trapped within the strands of web was a girl. She was well shaped and beautiful, her muscles straining to free herself from her predicament. Spread out and clinging to the web holding her fast, were tresses of long auburn hair. Most striking, however, were the girl’s steely gray eyes. Filled with sad resignation, they held fast, staring into nowhere.
“It’s marvelous!” Francis whispered.
“Do you think she would agree?” Jerry asked the man.
After placing the picture within sight of the girl, Jerry reached out, tickling her right foot. Her eyes opened slowly at the surprised stimulation.
“I want you to see something”, Jerry told her.
She focused on Jerry, arm held out directing her gaze. Following Jerry’s
directing arm, her eyes came to rest upon the painting.. Slowly, the visual
of the artists rendering sank in. Staring into the depths of the painting, she
gave a brief inward chuckle. “How horribly and ironically artistic”,
she thought. Then she joined the girl in the painting, staring off into nowhere.
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