Chapter 1

Unsurprisingly a grown man suddenly dropping his weight onto her woke Charlotte with a start. Her mind raced to figure out what was happening, in the darkness she could make out the masked head the attacker inches from her face but the arm across her throat prevented her from moving her head to try and see much more, it also prevented her from screaming, or simply breathing. She tried to struggle but her arms were pinned tightly by the stranger’s legs, panic engulfed her such that she barely noticed the needle jab into her neck. She kicked her long legs frantically, for a moment the attacker released the pressure on her throat letting her lungs fill with air, then clamped down again before Charlotte could scream, her ample chest heaving with a cough that couldn’t escape. Through the terrified panic Charlotte started to feel strange, she didn’t know if it was the lack of air or whatever had been stuck into her neck but her already dark bedroom was growing darker and her body was becoming numb, her kicking diminished to squirming which diminished to nothing as consciousness left her completely.

Charlotte came too in the van, a black bag covering her head, tied firmly around her neck, complimented with a gag to muffle her should she try to scream. She whimpered and tried to move but found her wrists cuffed behind her and her legs cuffed at the ankles. Squirming groggily against her restraints she screamed as best she could into the gag; it was futile but instinctive – try to draw attention, try to call for help – but even if her screams weren’t muffled there’d be no-one to save her, unbeknown to her they were miles away from from civilisation now, trundling along a private country track to her new home.

The van came to a halt; Charlotte froze, straining to hear what was going on. One of the van doors opened and slammed shut again, the vehicle bobbing to the side slightly in-between as someone got out, moments later the back doors creaked opened down near her feet. A rough hand grabbed the terrified woman by an ankle and pulled her naked body down towards the doors, she bucked and struggled as much as she could, screaming into her gag again. The hand’s owner let go, he wasn’t giving up though, the next thing Charlotte felt was terrible pain. The kidnapper jabbed her thigh with something that delivered an intense electric shock causing her to scream and thrash about, then delivered another dose of electricity to her hip and a third to her bare arse. Charlotte screamed and contorted, breaking down into sobs and whines as she tried to beg despite her gag. She didn’t resist this time as her kidnapper dragged her lower half out of the back of the van. To her surprise and confusion he removed the cuffs from her ankles then let her feet drop to the ground and sat her up, shoulders heaving as she continued to cry.

The kidnapper slipped a wire noose over Charlotte’s head and tightened it around her neck, the pole it was attached to bumping her chin as he pulled her up onto her feet and led her across a large, stone-paved yard. The air was still quite chilly and the stone underfoot, goosebumps sprang up across her skin, her exposed nipples stiffened and she shivered, from fear as much as the chill. Her captor opened a door and took Charlotte inside, the door closing behind her.

“Ready Doc?” The kidnapper asked, his voice deep, accent fairly rough.

“Of course, of course, the info-sheet’s on the counter.” A second voice, presumably a doctor, responded. He sounded older and spoke more crisply.

The catchpole was handed over and Charlotte was taken further into the room, the warmth was welcome but it didn’t make the situation any less distressing or terrifying. The doctor turned her around and pushed her backwards until she felt a cold metal pole press against the soft skin of her butt. The catchpole was taken off.

The bag was removed from Charlotte’s head causing her to recoil and scrunch up her puffy, bloodshot eyes. A nitrile-gloved hand gripped her jaw, forcing her to face the person examining her.

“Bit of a mess it’s made of itself.” He commented, wiping her snot covered and tear stained face. “Now open your eyes, there’s a good pup, look at me.”

Eyes still adjusting to the light Charlotte looked at the doctor, although bar the surgical mask, rolled up shirt sleeves and gloves he didn’t look much like a doctor at all; he wore a green quilted jacket, sleeveless, and tweed trousers tucked into wellington boots – he looked more like a farmer than anything. The only other person in the room was dressed in a bomber jacket, jeans, boots, gloves, and a ski mask; she assumed that was the man who’d brought her here. He stood leaning back against a counter writing on a clipboard, a cattle prod lay ominously on the counter next to him. The room they were in looked like some sort of doctor’s office with all the equipment one would expect, and what looked like some kind of dentist’s chair with a variety of straps.

“How old is it?” Doc asked.

“Twenty-five.” Answered the kidnapper.

“Eyes; light blue. Hair; blonde, dyed, naturally mousy as far as I can tell. Skin; fair, some freckles. Stand up straight now, let’s measure you.”

Charlotte whined, trying to implore the man with eyes still streaming tears. Across the room her kidnapper looked up from his clipboard, clipped his pen to it, and reached for the cattle prod. Charlotte’s eyes widened in terror, she tried to back away, head shaking, eyes pleading, crying harder into her gag, but there was only wall behind her, nowhere to go, no escape from the jolt as the prod made contact with her skin making her scream, jerk, stumble and fall to the floor. He prodded her again then grabbed her by the hair and hauled her back up to her feet, dragging her back to the height rod she’d previously been standing under. He let go of her there to return to his clipboard while Doc stood in front of her.

“I’d be rather more compliant if I were you.” He said. “Your overseer has little tolerance for insolence, now, are you going to stand up straight?”

Charlotte looked up at him, whimpering, sniffling, shaking. Slowly she complied, standing up, straightening her back but slumping her shoulders and hanging her head. Doc lifted her head, adjusted her posture a little and brought the stop of the height rod down to the top of her head.

“Five feet eleven inches. Or ... one-eighty metric I believe.”

Taking her by the upper arm Doc turned Charlotte toward the scales, reluctantly she stepped on.

“Eleven stone thirteen pounds, seventy-five point seven kilos.” He announced. “Upper-end of healthy for it’s size.”

“That ought to serve it well through the training.” The overseer commented nonchalantly, noting the weight on Charlotte’s info-sheet.

Charlotte had turned physically numb, scared and confused, mind racing, she couldn’t begin to understand what was going on. First the psychopath in black, her “overseer”, whatever that meant, had abducted her in the dead of night, how he’d gotten into the house she had no idea, now he and this supposed doctor where examining and measuring her, referencing some kind of training. Was this some kind of sick experiment? Had they abducted others before? What would they do with her once it was done? Why was she chosen for it? She wouldn’t be getting answers any time soon, she couldn’t even talk through the gag to ask and these two were talking about her almost as if she weren’t there, referring to her “it”, as if she wasn’t even human. She stepped off the scale, still trembling, eyes sore and red, struggling to get enough air through her snotty nose. Doc wiped her face and nose again then produced a tape measure, wrapping it around her ample bust then making another measurement underneath.