Victoria's Journey

By the fourth month, the transformation was complete and horrifying. Victoria had put on a substantial amount of weight, the high-calorie diet doing its work with brutal efficiency. Her bush was substantial now, a thick, unruly tangle of dark hair, and the hair under her arms had grown out like miniature forests, dense and wild. She had a different odor about her, a stale, slightly sour scent of unwashed flesh and confinement, a smell that clung to her even after her rare, supervised baths. She hadn't been out of the house in two months, and her skin, deprived of sunlight, looked pale and grey, like the skin of something that lives under a rock.

Then, things changed. One afternoon, Mildred brought a friend into the house. The woman, tall and severe with a sharp, intelligent face, looked at Victoria with an appraising, almost clinical gaze. Mildred displayed Victoria in the middle of the room, like a disappointing piece of livestock.

"This can't be the same girl that is in the picture you showed me," the friend said, her voice dripping with contempt.

"I'm afraid it is, Sandra," Mildred sighed, a masterful performance of weary disappointment. "You see what happens when I'm too kind, people take advantage and let themselves go."

Victoria would have protested, a surge of indignation and shame rising in her throat, but for the collar. She hadn't been allowed to utter a word for over two months, and the instinct to remain silent was now deeply ingrained.

Sandra walked up to Victoria and took her chin, forcing her head up. She looked deep into her eyes. "Yes, I see she has lazy eyes."

"Do you think you can do anything with her?" Mildred asked, a note of genuine concern in her voice. "I have to be away for a month on a series of horse shows, and I don't trust her not to eat herself to death while I'm gone."

"Don't you worry, my love," Sandra said, a confident smile playing on her lips. "Give me two months, and you'll have something to be proud of. Would you like me to work here or take her to my facility?"

"I think you should take her," Mildred said. "It will allow me to make the changes I need to here."

"Okay. Let me get some things from the truck, and we'll be on our way."

Sandra stepped out, and Mildred turned to Victoria, her expression hardening. "I'm expecting to get good reports about you, young lady. Is that understood?" Victoria nodded, her heart beginning to beat a little faster with a new, unfamiliar fear.

Sandra came back carrying a large holdall. The first thing she pulled out was a leather halter. She wrapped it around Victoria's head, a series of buckles clicking into place. The part that covered her mouth had a large, hard ball attached to it, which she forced into Victoria's mouth, stretching her jaws painfully. Thick pads covered her eyes, plunging her into a world of darkness.

"Do you want to keep the collar, Mildred dear, or do you want her vocal cords altered?" Sandra asked casually.

"Keep the collar," Mildred said, a fond smile in her voice. "I love the way it shocks her when she squeals."

"The bush and armpits," Sandra said, making a note on her phone. "Trimmed, removed. Permanently removed."

"Permanently removed," Mildred confirmed. "I've seen enough of them now; they've lost their novelty."

Sandra made another note. "Piercings.,

“Yes”, said Mildred. “I think I'd like some bells, one on each nipple on nice big rings."

You also mentioned chastity. Do you want permanent, or for you to control?"

"Oh no, not permanent," Mildred said. "I want the girl to have some pleasure."

"Okay. Well, we can put a series of rings along the outsides, and we can fit a bar or wire with a small padlock." 

Mildred liked that idea.

"Teeth?" Sandra asked.

"Teeth?" Mildred repeated, intrigued.

"Yes, a lot of my clients like teeth removed to get that little extra from the tongue and to prevent biting."

"Heavens no, keep all her teeth," Mildred said, aghast. "I'm not a monster."

"Well, I think that about covers it," Sandra said, zipping up her bag. "Let's get her travel ready, shall we?"

The leg manacles were removed and replaced by a sturdy leather cuff on each ankle and one on each wrist. Victoria had been listening to this conversation with growing horror, and now she began to struggle, a muffled whimper escaping from behind the gag. A leash was attached to her collar, and she was pulled forward, stumbling. Hands guided her through the cottage, out the back door, and onto the gravel driveway. 

She could smell straw and horse shit as she was led up a wooden ramp. A wooden door opened, and she was pushed backward onto a hard, wooden bench. She sensed she was in a narrow space. Her ankles were clipped in place against the sides of the space. Her hands were lifted and parted, and her wrists were connected to the top of the narrow space. A thick leather belt was buckled around her waist.  She looked like a blubbery, sitting-down starfish, trussed and ready for transport.

The door to the stall shut, and then there was a larger noise as the ramp became a door and was folded up and locked into position. There was a toot of a horn, and Victoria's body lurched as the horse trailer she was in was pulled forward by Sandra's Land Rover. Victoria was being taken away. She was being remade. And as Victoria sat there in the darkness, the only sound was the rumble of the wheels on the road and the frantic thumping of her own heart.