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The Transformation into Belle
A loud whistle woke her. Startled she rose to complain to her mother that it was Sunday and she didn’t have to wake up so early, but then she saw the white. She remembered, desperation gripped her. The questions, which started anew in her mind were interrupted by a second whistle, this one much louder. It was so loud that her ears hurt. She looked around and saw a section of the wall by the floor slide out like a drawer. Hope stirred, maybe she would finally get to know something. She went quickly to the new fixture in her cell. White like everything else its appearance was marred by a picture on the inside. A curious picture. It looked like an equation, it showed a sweater next to a box, an arrow went from the sweater to the box. What was more important was the expected outcome, it was a glass of blue liquid. Water? For her sweater? She was so thirsty that she practically tore it of herself and placed it inside. It drew back into the wall quickly, dismayed she shouted in anger. Where was her water? Then she heard another whistle, it came from behind her. She snapped around and found a small section of the wall drawn inwards to form a niche. She scrambled to it and found a steel bowl full of water inside. Desperate for a sip she tried to take it out but it appeared to be fixed inside. Careful not to spill any she drank it all handful after handful. Very quickly the meager amount started to run out, then it was gone. Desperate for more she struck her head inside and licked the bowl determined to get every last drop.
Rejuvenated by this action she sat down. Unlike the drawer which took her sweater the niche containing the water bowl didn’t close upon her finishing the water, instead she heard a steady dribble and saw a slow stream of water filling the bowl anew. Curious she looked inside and saw a small round opening above the bowl, clearly it functioned as a tap. When the bowl was two thirds full the hole closed cutting off the flow of liquid.
Her interest was spiked, some sections of the walls were movable! She hadn’t noticed that before. Her thirst sated she began a new detailed inspection of her cell. She went by every fragment of the stark white walls surrounding her she could reach. She found some more indications that her cell could be rearranged but to what purpose? Here she drew a blank, her teenage mind couldn’t find any pattern in the placement of the supposed openings. The one which function she was sure of was the big one in the wall between the Drawer Wall and Drinking Wall. Of course this became the Door Wall immediately.
Her inspection finished she checked her watch again, it was the second day of her confinement. Her mind free from thirst refocused on her plight, she started shouting at the walls again. She threw her anger, fear and confusion at them. She screamed, spoke, pleaded, shouted, cried but it was all to no avail. Silence was her only answer. Beaten she slumped down, her mind blank. No longer occupied by thirst, curious about her cell or filled with questions about her predicament she became aware of a new sensation. Actually it wasn’t new but unnoticed until now. She was hungry.
She started doing math exercises in her mind in an attempt to distract her stomach. Math was always her favorite subject, she knew she was good at it. It worked but not for long. Her situation didn’t lend itself to self-study. She tried to fool her hunger by drinking some more water but it worked only for a short while. Next she tried some pacing and it had the same limited effect. Minute after minute passed by, they combined into hours and her hunger grew. But her exhaustion grew right alongside it, finally despite her hunger pains she fell asleep in her cell for the second time.
Once more she was woken by the piercing whistle. This time her disorientation period was shorter. She got her bearing and found the drawer open again. This time there was no picture inside. Still she placed her shoe inside in hope she would get some food in exchange, just like it was the case with her sweater and water. Her guess proved right as the drawer closed and she heard a second whistle from behind. She turned around and found the niche in the Drinking Wall boarder. There was a second steel bowl next to the water bowl. She was happy to find some kind of biscuits inside. They were quite dry but the water bowl was still full. She ate every last one of the provided biscuits. They had a strange salty-meaty taste, still it was better than nothing. To her dismay the food bowl didn’t fill again like the water bowl when empty. But she wasn’t hungry anymore.
She went through her period of pointless questions, but her this time without any great hope of success. Her day flew by filled with sleeping, pacing, a lot of crying, and a growing need. She drank frequently during the day and now she needed to pee. But there wasn’t any place where she could do it. She became agitated, soon she wouldn’t be able to hold it anymore. She paced from one end of her cell to the other, crying and gritting her teeth. Suddenly she heard the whistle again, the drawer was open once more. In hope for a solution she dropped her other shoe inside and saw, as the drawer closed, a section of the floor in the corner between the Drawer Wall and Door Wall opening. She rushed to it, but instead of the expected toilet found just a square opening filled with sand. She hesitated but her need was greater than her doubts. Careful not to expose herself she lowered her panties to her ankles, and holding her skirt in her lap covering her private parts she squatted over the hole and let go. The relief was fantastic, but there was a problem. How was she supposed to wipe? Suddenly she remembered the pack of tissues she had in her skirt pocket. Her business finished, she threw the used tissue into the hole just as it was closing. A few minutes later it opened again, she approached it once more curious and found the wet sand and dirty tissue missing, all that filled the hole was new dry sand.
Then a thought struck her. Someone’s watching me, they must have noticed my predicament. Otherwise how would the drawer open in just the right moment? She started looking around carefully once more. Still just as before all she found were the cracks in the walls indicating possible openings. If there were cameras watching her they were either concealed in a way unknown to her, which was difficult to imagine among those stark white walls, or they were up in the ceiling. That had to be it. She tried squinting her eyes to catch any clue but it was impossible. The light glow permeating evenly along the whole ceiling surface made it impossible to see any irregularities.
Her days started flowing by, the food arrived each morning around 8 o’clock. Before it was dropped into the bowl form a hole above there was a whistle signaling breakfast. The water was refilled as soon as she drank it. The sand was renewed after each use. Her only problem aside from her captivity was the fact that her pack of tissues was almost empty, and that despite her parting the remaining ones into pieces as small as she felt comfortable using. But if her body was doing well enough thank to the food and water provided by her unseen guardians, her mind was in a much worse state.
She was on an emotional seesaw, she went from hope that rescue was at hand, to dark despair. Her teenaged psyche was severely tasked by her situation. Depraved of any outside input except the whistle signaling breakfast, she was growing more agitated each day. All this came crashing down on her one morning a week after her kidnapping when she wasn’t woken up by the familiar whistle, instead she found the food niche closed and the drawer open again. Suddenly she had a dark suspicion. They wanted her to throw all her clothes away, bit by bit, granting food and water in exchange until she was naked. She wouldn’t do it. Determined to hold out she refused to give in. They wouldn’t starve her to death. They would have to give her food.
She held out for three days, a feat amazing in someone her age, but in the end she gave up. She simply had to get something to eat and drink. She gave up one of her socks. In the following months she was forced to give up the rest in varying intervals of time, the shortest being a week the longest 15 days. She lost her other sock, and panties next. This was because her tissues run out a few days before and without any means of wiping her privates they started to itch and smell. They were followed by the tie, belt, earrings, hair band, hair pin, and watch. This she regretted the most because she lost her only means of keeping track of the date. Oh, she tried to count days but soon lost track of them. At the same time her mood was sinking to new depths, she lost hope the she would be rescued. Time crawled by and there was no response to any of her many pleas for any explanation.
Strangely despite her being depressed she was full of energy, she couldn’t sit still. She literally had to pace up and down her small cell. She suspected it was something in her food, she never was that restless before. Besides each time she tried to beat her captors by refusing to give up her next garment they stopped giving her food or water, and during that time she quickly fell into apathy. It was unnatural. Still each time her rebellion was shorter, until she gave up her attempts, what difference did it make? They wouldn’t give in to her, she had no way of winning this contest of wills. But all this constant pacing had another consequence. It made her sweat and she was dirty like never before in her life. She tried to use a little of her water to wipe her face, but gave it up. She noticed that each time she did it the water bowl wouldn’t refill for the next day. So she kept getting smellier and dirtier with each passing day. She was also sore from sleeping on the floor all the time but was getting used to it.
Finally the day came that she had to give up her tattered blouse. It was followed by her bra, and finally her skirt. It was done, she didn’t have anything else.
Interlude
The on-duty observer watched the progress of subject HFDLTP.12-18.113, he was pleased to notice that she finally ran out of garments. Still the process took longer than anticipated, which spoke volumes about the subjects resistance capacity. This wasn’t a bad sign of any kind, quite the opposite, the stronger the subjects resisted the better they turned out in the end. Those quick to fold became listless soon enough, only the spirit to fight gave the chance of a highly successful transformation. The first couple of finished products had to be rejected because of this oversight, and nowadays any future subject was carefully wetted before acquisition, but still mistakes happened from time to time. The observer was glad to notice that the current subject’s revised resistance factor placed it in the top 5% of the ‘population’ which had undergone similar procedures in the past. This would make the process itself longer, by the final product would be top notch.
After careful deliberation and consultation with other observers on hand, he decided to prolong the period of ‘rest’ before any of the invasive steps would be taken, but started the various subliminals going. He noted his observations and conclusions in the subject file, along with his proposed action and switched views to his next subject.
Continued in Part 3.
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