Chapter 1

Chapter 1

When I think about that fateful moment I don't remember much. I was at the lowest point in my life, fully prepared for the fate I knew was coming. I cringed a little thinking about my future. I didn't deserve it and I doubted that any of the others that came before me deserved such a fate.

I would have run away if I could but there was no chance. I was chained to the wall and escape was even impossible to contemplate. I looked at the prisoner on the other side of the room. We hadn't said a word to each other all day but usually we talked, even if only a little bit. I just wasn't in the mood to talk and he knew it. He looked so different to me today but then again he could very easily say the same thing about me.

I heard the rattle of chains as I moved my left arm to scratch myself with all five fingers. It shattered the silence of the room. I moved my arm back and the chain rattled again. I needed to go to the toilet and although I really didn't want to see a guard, I really didn't want to piss all over the floor. "I need the toilet!" I hollered. My voice sounded weird. They never seemed to hear you until you were screeching your lungs out.

"Toilet!!!" I hollered as I rattled my chains. I couldn't believed I was reduced to sitting on a cold stone floor naked, chained to a wall, trying to get someone to take me to the toilet. I'm an academic, for Christ's sake! "I need the fucking toilet!"

"Shhh!" said O'Toole, my co-prisoner. He was a good kid, reminded me of myself at his age. He, however, was not the type of person to shush me. "Shut up! I can hear something!"

I ceased my shouting and tried to listen. It was true, there were noises going on. Shouts, not mine, slid through the tiny gap under the large metal door. Lots of shouts. Usually this place was unnervingly quiet, like a morgue. Our captors were the silent types, using quiet threats of violence where others would use shouting. But I guess cults are rarely noisy.

However, the creepy silence was preferable than the angry, menacing shouting that came trickling under the door. Both O'Toole and I sat there mesmerized, I almost forgot about what had happened to me last night. No words could be made out but it was clear that one group of people didn't like another group of people. "Do you think…" O'Toole started but I shushed him.

I didn't think anything. I knew today was my day to go to 'The Farm' but this didn't sound related to my transfer. When Hedgpeth went to 'The Farm' it sounded like a completely normal day, no shouting at all. One moment he was there, kinda like he always was and then the guards came and took him away. Off to 'The Farm'. I desperately did not want to go to 'The Farm', but I wanted to die even less.

It would be just my luck the day I was supposed to go above ground would be the day someone went crazy and shot everyone. In my weakest hours I would have leapt at the chance to go to 'The Farm', as I had been stuck in this putrid hole, chained to a wall for three months. I had the worst luck. It was because of my luck that I was stuck in here anyway.

The shouting had gone on for two minutes or so, although it could have been an hour. Time was an impossible notion when stuck in a windowless dungeon for three months. The only way I knew I had been in here for three months was that two people before me had been hauled off to 'The Farm' and that happened on a monthly basis. O'Toole had only been in here for two weeks or so, so for a few gruelling weeks I was totally alone in the dungeon. While I felt bad for O'Toole being here, I was certainly happy for the company.

"They've come to save us!" O'Toole chirped happily, "I know it!" His optimism was palpable. I tried not to get over-excited. O'Toole could be saved but I was already gone. Why hadn't they come a day earlier? One day would have made all the difference to me.

Turns out that O'Toole was right. They were here to save us. The shouts got closer and louder until the big heavy door that separates us from the rest of the world swung open. Three men with gun slowly walked in, aiming wildly. "Don't shoot!" I squealed out, "We're prisoners!"

The men were federal police, thank God. Here to arrest every single last Dragon member in the place. They knew what the Dragons had been up to and had the evidence to put them away. I was just lucky enough to be rescued but unlucky enough to be evidence.

I was itching to get those infernal chains off. They haunted me all the time. Every movement of mine was heralded by the sound of heavy chains clanking together. Those chains gave me nightmares, in this day and age who used chains? Those Dragon bastards were incredibly brutal.

One guy began the process of setting me free, while another helped O'Toole out. I was too ashamed to look the man in the eye but I did mutter 'Thank you' over one thousand times in a hushed voice while he undid my shackles. There were chains attached to every limb, one for each leg and arm. He dutifully, tried all the keys on all the locks, slowly setting me free, limb by limb. My arms looked so skinny.

"Here you go," said the man that freed me. "Easy now," he instructed as he helped me up. I held hand, I had held many hands in my life but this time felt strange.

Finally I was free from the chains. I could finally move around wherever I wanted.

"What's your name?" he asked me.

"Wallace Jane," I told him and he gave me a weird look.

"Don't worry, Miss Wallace, we'll have you out of here any minute now."

***

They put O'Toole and I in the back of a police van. They told us in no uncertain terms that we weren't under arrest but were being transported somewhere else for debriefing and questioning. I thought it was the middle of the night when they rescued us but I knew I was wrong when the sun came streaming into my eyes. I hadn't seen it in so long that it blinded me. So much had changed since I last saw the sun.

Both O'Toole and I were naked when we were rescued. Our captors had treated us essentially like animals and stripped us unceremoniously when we arrived. The stone floor was unbearably cold when I was first chained up, but I got used to it. The police had given us blankets to cover ourselves. It wasn't the best thing I had ever wore but I had never been so thankful for a square of cloth in my life. I didn't like the way the blanket scratched my supple skin though.

O'Toole was crying with utter happiness, he was spared a terrible fate. I was not so lucky. I looked down at my naked body. I had lost so much.

The van started up and it rattled onto the road. O'Toole must have seen the despair in my eyes. It wasn't hidden very well. "It's OK Wally, it could have been much worse. You could have been sent to 'The Farm'."

I tried to cry but couldn't. I had ran out of tears a long time ago. 'The Farm' was a terrifying notion and I was glad I was spared that fate but my current fate was bad enough.

"Look at me!" I gasped, finally letting emotion burst out of me, "I look like a fucking porn star!" I gesticulated wildly. It was true. My body resembled a beautiful, sexual woman's body down to the toenails. I exuded pure sexuality. My soft curves were a living definition of beauty. I was simply gorgeous and I hated it.

Most beautiful women enjoy being that way, they revel in the attention they receive, they put on makeup to enhance it and they enjoy all the perks that are thrust towards them. I had not received such treatment yet, as I had only been a beautiful woman for less than 24 hours.

Hell, I wasn't even a woman 24 hours ago.

I was a 46-year-old man, a university lecturer and was definitely not beautiful. I was bald, doughy and missing two fingers on my left hand, not ugly but certainly no prize. I wiggled my fingers in front of my face, whatever the Dragons had done to me had given me 10 healthy fingers, perfect for giving businessmen vigorous hand-jobs.

O'Toole sat beside me, draping a comforting arm over my shoulder. "Things could be so much worse, Wally. Look on the bright side, you're young, intelligent and most importantly; you are free. You've been saved, man. You can do anything you want." He brushed a long strand of brown hair out of my eyes, it had been so long since I was able to grow hair, let alone hair long enough to come in front of my eyes.

Brendan O'Toole reminded me a lot of myself at his age. Outwardly he appeared invincible, nothing could slow him down but alone he was scared and very, very self-conscious. He had cried a lot in the dungeon, mostly provoked by the stories I had told him. No man wants to hear that in a matter of weeks he will be turned into a sex-craved bimbo. I had seen the men that had came before me and the women they were transformed in to. I was next and after me, O'Toole. But fate stepped in and O'Toole got to keep his 'tools', so to speak.

He was a scammer by trade, an 'entrepreneur' as he would tell you. He's the type that was always trying to make a quick buck and sometimes getting away with it. When it didn't work, however, he would simply run away. Of course, he couldn't run away from the Dragons and he found himself, like me trapped in a dungeon waiting to be transformed and relocated to 'The Farm'. My guess was that he was in his early to mid-twenties, although he never really told me. I now looked younger than him; my new female body was firm and fit like a body that had spent no more than 20 very healthy years on this planet. I was glad that O'Toole was with me. He seemed like a great guy. I looked into his eyes, they were warm and comforting like a crackling fire in winter.

"It's going to be OK," he told me and I wanted to believe him. I looked down to compare bodies. Both of our blankets were wide open. My large firm breasts were prominently on display. They were round, full and perky, just how everyone likes. If I was a 'normal' woman I may have blushed and pulled my blanket closed but I didn't mind. I had no emotional attachment to those soft and wobbly protuberances.

How I wished to have O'Toole's body, it was hairy, it was strong and it was masculine. Even after living off scraps for a fortnight O'Toole was still in great shape. His chest was firm and hairy and led down to a classic '6-pack'. He must have spent as much time in the gym as he did stealing people's money. With a slight glance further down I could even see his cock. He didn't cover it up as we had spent the last two weeks chained to walls, naked, facing each other. But only now did I notice how majestic his cock looked. I guess you really don't know what you've got until it's gone. O'Toole was the lucky one, he still had his body. He could still make tender love to a woman. He could take her in his manly arms and take control of the love making session. I had been robbed of that. I missed my cock already.

I was about to lament the loss of my favourite appendage so I turned to O'Toole. His eyes caught me off guard and I slipped and fell into them, sinking into their beautiful blueness. I moved closer to those eyes for a closer look, my unblanketed body touching his. Rubbing up against those scratchy blankets must have created a static charge because when my body touched his I felt a zap of electricity. I wanted O'Toole's body so bad that I could feel it. My heart pounded wildly as I reached out to grab it. I'm not sure what the plan was - whether I wanted to rip his skin off so that I could wear it or I wanted to rip out his brain - in either case I failed. All I did was move closer to him and kiss him.

That's right, I kissed him.

A deep and passionate kiss, like we were lovers reunited after months apart. I drew him towards me, exploring his mouth with my tongue. My body felt like it was on fire but a good type of fire. A kiss had never felt like this before and I wondered if anyone had ever felt this good before. A hand, mine in title only, traversed down O'Toole's rough body. The manly hairs felt good as they rushed between my fingertips. The hand landed in his warm lap.

Having had one for 46 years, I knew a men's body expertly and I knew where my fingers were heading but there was nothing I could do to stop it. My hand brushed against his manhood. Now I'm not sure why I did it but I do know that it surprised me. My hand slowly grasped it, entwining my fingers around its shaft. It felt thick, much thicker than mine but I wasn't in the right place to accurately judge. I wanted to look down to see whether this was happening or it was all my imagination but my lips remained stuck to his.

The van came to a stop as I felt the cock swell in my hand. Suddenly I had control of my body and mind again so I dropped his throbbing member like it was boiling hot. I groaned a little, like a wounded deer. My voice was sultry, something that had bugged me from the first time I opened my new mouth. "Sorry, I don't… know…" I spluttered.

His eyes darted around the van looking everywhere but in my eyes, "It's OK. Things must be… confusing for you."

They certainly were. I was rescued but there was no way of resuming my normal life. I was trapped inside a teenage boy's wet dream and didn't know what was going to happen next. I barely knew what had happened before.

The van's door swung open and immediately sunlight assaulted my eyes. "OK, come this way," someone instructed.

For the first time in three months, I was unchained.

Unchained and terrified.

****

Hello! The author here! If you’re reading this thanks so much for reading it all. This is a start of fortnightly novella. It'll be a little darker than 'Kate Draffen' was.

Thanks so much for reading. As always you can send me an email if you want to discuss anyhting about my stories, [email protected]