She had trouble waking up, reaching for consciousness was so hard, it felt as if she had to drag herself through a thick dark haze to see any light. Finally she managed to open her eyes, her mouth felt so dry, as if she hadn’t anything to drink in a long time. What happened? The last thing she remembered was going home from school. The room she was in was blindingly white. Was this a hospital? NO! No hospital lays its patients on the floor. Her mind struggling to explain her current situation, she began looking around frantically. What she saw puzzled her enormously. The room was square, maybe 5 x 5 meters, what was strange was the absence of any kind of door or window, just stark white walls and floor. The ceiling looked to be made of a giant light fixture; it glowed literally everywhere she looked. There was nothing else in the room except her; nothing broke the surrounding white except the colors of her school uniform.
Where was she? What was happening? She kept repeating those questions to the empty room. At first she shouted, but her parched throat couldn’t keep it up for long. As time went by she grew quieter and quieter. Her fear grew. Why wasn’t anyone responding? Why this eerie silence?
Time went by. She checked the watch she got from her mother for her twelfth birthday. Even now she remembered her mom’s loving face as she told her that she had reached the age when she should seriously start keeping track of time. Was that really only four years ago? In this white room she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Nothing made sense, nobody responded to her frantic pleas, so in the absence of anything else to do she did the only thing she could, she did just as her mother told her all those years ago, she kept track of time. Minutes went by in slow motion, each second drawn out to the maximum. One… Two… Three… So slow. Finally an hour went by, then the second and so on. She started pacing anxious for anything to do, anything that would keep her from staring at her watch all the time. She started shouting for help once more. Still no answer.
Why? Why her? Her thoughts whirled in circles. She forced herself to stop, to think. Everybody said she was smart, her mom, her teachers. If she was so smart she should try to think it out. Was this a kidnapping? If so there was hope for her. She remembered the TV shows, if the kidnapper didn’t show his face she had a chance to live. But her family wasn’t that rich. It didn’t make any sense! Suddenly some stray memory brought her to a standstill. A horrible sickening theory struck her. Maybe it was a sex thing? She remembered a big news story from a year ago, a young boy was found raped. The police caught the man responsible, but after the fact. This possibility terrified her. With dread she recalled her last shopping spree, she recalled all those shop assistants telling her how pretty she was. Of course she knew that this was all part of their sales pitch, but she also heard the whispered comments behind her back, about her generous ‘development’. She thought they were jealous then, now she desperately wanted to be ugly so that she’d never wound up in this predicament. She started shouting again, but stopped very quickly due to the dryness of her mouth. Exhausted first of all mentally, but also physically she laid down. Her mind was working in overdrive presenting one improbable but scary answer after another. The room became a cell. She fell asleep.
Continued in Part 2.
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.
The Transformation into Belle
3. First modifications
She was disoriented and confused. She had thought that after she’d given up all her clothes something would have happened, but nothing did. Days flew by and nothing changed. At first she tried to preserve her modesty by covering her breasts and nether parts, but got tired of it after a few days. Her restlessness got in the way, she simply couldn’t stand, or sit still long enough, she had to keep pacing, and when she did she started to swing her hands along, she couldn’t keep still. Besides it was tiring always having to keep one arm raised. So when nothing happened, nobody reacted to her nudity, she started getting used to it. She ate, drank, used the sandbox, slept and paced her cell in an endless cycle. If she were to think about it, this prolonged period of forced inactivity, had a very definite reason behind it. During this time her periodic rants against her abductors became rare, and her acceptance of the fact that no immediate rescue would be coming grew to almost fatalistic proportions. But she was still loathe to give in to easily, she would fight whoever was doing this to her to her uttermost ability. Her emotional seesaw slowed way down from the beginning stages of her capture. She still had periods of depression but the forced activity didn’t lend itself to moping. You just can’t be morose when you are literary bouncing all over the place.
By her cruel estimate almost a year went by from her abduction, half a year from the time she threw her last piece of clothing away when something changed. All that time when nothing changed in her routine made the event more surprising for her when something did indeed happen.
One day she went to sleep, bored, exhausted, and dirty just to wake clean, weak, bald as a new born and without teeth. Shocked to a standstill she went blank. She just sat in her corner feeling her bald head with her hand and her empty gums with her tongue, then she flew into a hysterical rage. She started screaming at the walls, pounding her fist against the floor and her head against the wall. Tears streamed from her eyes and fell down her cheeks. In a fit of helpless protest she directed her rage at the only movable things in her surroundings, her food and the sandbox, she threw their contents all around her, stomping the biscuits into small bits. Still her emotional high couldn’t last forever, and her weakened state prevented her from doing serious harm to herself. Exhausted she laid down sobbing her heart out, finally out of strength even for that she fell asleep.
The next day was hard for her. First of all the usual food whistle didn’t wake her up, instead she rose amidst the remains of her meal all mixed with sand. Hungry and weak she dragged herself to the food niche to drink and eat some leftovers that escaped her attention yesterday. Then she went about discovering what was done to her. She figured out that there either had to have been some sleeping drug mixed with her water or food before, or that some sort of sleeping gas had to have been pumped inside while she slept. She was fairly sure she would have woken up if someone had come inside during her normal sleep. Propping her back against a wall she checked her body out. The most noticeable change was the lack of hair, and not only on her head as she discovered yesterday but all over. Her eyebrows were gone and her armpits, legs, pubic hair was gone, the only hair left were her eyelashes. But the more disturbing and invasive modification was her lack of teeth. Now when she was somewhat calmer than before she noticed that they weren’t simply removed. In their place she felt low vaguely metallic stumps. Barely peeking out of her tender gums their spacing was similar but not identical to her former teeth. After a while she discovered by clicking her lower jaw against her upper one that they made a hollow sound, as if they were empty inside. What was the point of both those invasions upon her body she wasn’t sure, but judging from her weakness it had to have taken a lot of time, and she was kept asleep the whole time. Finished with her examination she decided that just as her captors revealed their character again it was time again for them to be reminded of her determination to withstand them in any way possible. Simply put she had nothing else left but her determination. She swept some of the sand form her sleeping corner, sat down and prepared for what she suspected was coming.
The next day as expected she got no food, she guessed that they wouldn’t give her anything before she fixed the mess she made, but just to spite them she decided not to. She knew that it was probably a senseless exercise in self-determination, because sooner or later she would give in just to get something to drink and eat, but she had to mark her independence from them in any way possible. Although weak she managed to hold out for a few days, and during that time she made a disturbing discovery. Her hair didn’t grow back, anywhere! She checked again and again but to no avail, she remained bald all over. Suddenly she understood. Why go to all the trouble of putting her to sleep just to shave her hair if it would grow back. Her captors must have used a permanent method. This put her in one of her depression periods, she was faced with the fact that everything that would happen here to her would be almost surely non-reversible, her teeth surely wouldn’t grow back no matter what. This depression hit her in an unfortunate time because in her weakened state she wasn’t as restless as before her procedures, coupled with her demonstration of independence, she was on a good way to starving herself to death.
In the end she managed to make it only half way there, she simply wouldn’t give them, as she began thinking of her tormentors, the satisfaction of giving up on herself. She still wanted to believe in the possibility of rescue or escape in the future, so she got up on all fours and started sweeping the remains of her fury into the sandbox. From time to time, when she found a bigger intact piece of a biscuit she went to her water bowl to wet it down because having no teeth she couldn’t eat it normally. She kept sweeping and looking for any leftovers when suddenly the sandbox’s content got exchanged for a fresh one. Taking this as indication that her overseers decided that the cell was clean enough, she slept.
The next day she was woken as usual by the food whistle, but instead of the usual biscuits which she had trouble chewing, she got some kind of gruel. It tasted horrible, but hungry as she was she ate it all, carrying it bit by bit in her hand from the bowl to her mouth, in the end she simply licked her hand clean and drank as much water as she could to kill the taste. So begun her period of recovery.
When she was strong enough that she started pacing again, she discovered a new wrinkle in her setup. The gruel wouldn’t refill unless she left a clean bowl, which she achieved by wiping it with her fingers until it shone in the light. The food itself was monotone but at least after roughly a week it had lost its terrible taste, now it tasted vaguely of meat and cereal.
Time picked up again.
Continued in Part 4.
The Transformation into Belle
4. Picking up the pace.
Disoriented she woke again. This time clarity came earlier than the last. Once again she felt clean, all the grime and sweat washed away. She was also weaker than before going to sleep. She knew what it meant this time, they had done something to her once again. Afraid to look at herself she kept her eyes closed and tried to feel herself. There was something wrong with her fingers, they were moving awkwardly, also her knees felt funny, kind of bloated. Gathering her nerve she opened her eyes to take a look. What she saw shocked her speechless. Gone were her long beautiful fingers, only short stubs remained, and of her thumb there was no trace. Stunned she raised her hands to her face for a better view. It seemed as if her thumb bones were removed at the wrist, and her fingers at the first joint leaving her four short, barely movable stubs. The inside of her palm wasn’t spared attention too. She had now some kind of gel pads implanted under her skin, a big heart shaped one in the center of her palm, and four small ones on the stubs of her fingers. A kind of daze overcame her, and she spent a long time simply watching what was left of her hands.
In a weird bout of calmness she lowered her hands and looked at her knees. There were some weird bumps just below her knee joints. Feeling them up she discovered that her captors had implanted the same gel cushions as in her hands, but just under her kneecaps. Why? What was all this mutilation meant for? She had no idea, but was soon to find out. It was then that the food whistle sounded. Still deep in apathy about her latest changes she tried standing up just to find out she couldn’t. In panic now she tried again and again only to find out that she could move her legs just fine as long as she didn’t try to take up a standing position. She could crawl on all fours, heave up to a weird crouch, a kind of 45 degree angle, which was difficult to balance, but she couldn’t stand up.
Then it hit her, the steel bowls, the new posture, her mutilated hands, the sandbox, the strange food… They wanted to make a dog out of her! She flipped. She started twisting, making weird contortions, jumping up as far as her modified legs would allow. And she started to shout. And then she got one more shock. Her voice was gone. She couldn’t articulate any words, what came out was a weird combination of growls and yips. She started running up and down her cell which suddenly became a kennel in her mind. Evermore frantic she decided to end everything, she ran full tilt up to a wall in a vain attempt to crack her head. But her new limbs wouldn’t listen to her as she’d like them to. She stumbled again and again. Exhausted, defeated and hungry she lay in a heap next to the sandbox, near the wall. Her head hurt and she didn’t know if it was more due to shock or physical pain incurred in her attempts at self-harm.
After a short rest she realized the she wasn’t as down as after her first modifications. The restlessness was returning. They must have her on some kind of drugs. She rose up in resignation and crawled slowly towards her food bowl. From experience she knew that if she didn’t eat her food in a fixed period of time after the whistle, it would be denied her until the next day. It was there that she discovered the next degradation. She was no longer able to pick the food up with her hands. If she wanted to eat, she would have to lower her head and eat like an animal they wanted her to become. She paused for a moment but decided that she didn’t have enough strength to fight anymore at the time. She lowered her head into the recess in the wall, opened her mouth and started to eat. Suddenly ravenous she gulped her gruel that she now identified as a kind of dog food. When she was done she licked the bowl clean just as she did earlier but this time she used her tongue directly. Then she switched to the water bowl and drank her fill.
In the couple of next days she began to figure out how to move again. In the beginning quite awkward she was soon pacing up and down her kennel, this time on all fours. Now she understood the reason behind the gel pads, they were there to protect her hands and knees as she was moving around on all fours. Her good mood was puzzling in moments of clarity but she was powerless to fight against the drugs they had to have been giving her in her food. Either way that’s what she was telling herself, the possibility of acceptance was anathema to her. Now that she knew what they wanted to do with her she made a plan of action. She would become the best dog they wanted, in the end they would either sell her, or keep her for themselves. Either-way there was a chance that she would be amongst people again, and where there were people there was a chance of escape. So she trained herself, she practiced doglike behavior as she remembered it. Her pacing turned into a weird shuffle-like running, which she thought of as a success.
She practiced other things too. She tried to let her tongue hang out after a vigorous run. Her attempts at lapping up water were laughable at first with more water ending up around the bowl than in her mouth, but with time she got better. Her feeding got neater too. No longer was her face all dirty after eating, and the little bit around the lips was easy to lick off. Licking the bowl clean became second nature to her. The hardest thing to learn was a new way of using the sandbox. Although it was still possible to use it crouching, with her private region somewhat obscured, she decided to work out a doglike way of dealing with that unpleasant business. So she still crouched, but on all fours, with her legs spread to avoid splashing them. At first she tried to do it the male dog way with one of her legs raised, but in the end it proved too difficult to maintain balance that way.
There were some signs that her captors noticed her efforts and decided to “reward” her. On morning a dog bed appeared in the kennel next to the food niche. Later the food niche itself disappeared and her bowls were sliding out of the wall next to the bed always full each morning. If she drank all of her water during the day, the bowl slid back into a recess in the wall only to appear full again. No longer did she have to stick her head inside a hole in the wall to eat and drink.
And best of all there appeared a rope one day, one end of it vanished into a hole in the wall and the other one was laying on the floor. Curious she approached it and picked at it with her paw. It withdrew slightly into the wall, astonished she jumped back. This was the first bit of interactive action she experienced in her kennel since giving up her clothing. After a moment she approached it again, just to have it slide back a little once more. After a few tries she figured out the game. It was a dog’s tug of war, full of energy (as always lately) she grabbed the end of the rope with the metal stubs, she had for teeth, and started pulling for all she was worth. She was exhilarated, finally some interaction with her captors, a way to fight back, to win against them. To have FUN!!! To break the everyday monotony. In the end she lay exhausted, her energy drained for the first time in a long time.
Suddenly there was a weird sound GODDOOG and something fell down onto her bed. Curious she approached it just to find a bone shaped dog treat. She licked it and her senses exploded with taste. Feed all the time a rather salty and tasteless gruel, the richness of taste was phenomenal. She spend the rest of her day curled in her bed licking her treat to nothing.
And so her days flew by, and with each of them she became better in her movements and behavior. She discovered that if she put enough energy in her running, which due to the dimensions of her kennel was one endless circle, and then played with the rope with enough enthusiasm she would hear GODD OOG and get a new treat. Life was shaping up, maybe her training was nearing an end, maybe her chance would come soon. Her drug induced spirits were up. And then one morning she woke up with a familiar feeling…
Continued in part5.
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