Broken

You picked "Nasty!"

Can't say I'm too surprised. But this is good... Things were getting a little too happy around here, LOL.

🙃

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Alan rushed down the hall of Coldbrook Manor, his small but perky breasts jiggling in his bra. This was his chance. Early that morning, William Staine, the master of the house, was rushed to the hospital with chest pains. Not because he was having a heart attack, as he’d feared, but because Alan had poisoned him. Once the ambulance was out of sight, Alan used the key he’d pickpocketed from the guard and escaped his bedroom-cum-prison cell.

“C’mon, c’mon…” Alan squeaked as he ran into the study. His surgically-altered voice, high-pitched and breathy, was only the second most horrific alteration Second Dawn had made to his body.

Alan had been waiting for this day for three years, ever since he was kidnapped by Second Dawn. They specialized in abducting young men, turning them into pretty girls, and selling them to the rich and perverted. How had Alan come to their attention? He’d heard rumors on the Internet, and as a ‘citizen journalist’ he began an investigation. After several months, he finally found a source willing to testify. The next night, he awoke by masked men in his bedroom.

For two years, Alan was held captive in a remote location. His body was mutilated by hormones and surgery. Slowly but inexorably, he was turned into a woman. As the psychopaths there stripped away his masculinity and identity, Alan fought to keep his sanity intact.

Once their work was done, Alan was sold to Staine—although first he was ‘customized’ for his new master with various tattoos. Apparently, he not only had a thing for girls who used to be boys, but also girls with “ink.” For two years, Alan allowed Staine to believe his will was broken, but he’d been merely biding his time by playing the part of a demure maid and giving in to William’s sexual advances when necessary.

Adrenaline rushing through him, Alan ran into Staine’s study and hurried to the phone. He’d dial 999 and tell them everything. He’d been practicing his speech for years. Once he was rescued, he’d go public with his story. He would bring down the bastards who’d done this to him!

Suddenly, the telephone rang. Dread blossomed in Alan’s heart. He picked up the phone, already knowing who would be on the other end of the line. “Hello?”

Staine’s voice came over the phone. It was a deep, booming voice that had always echoed throughout the entire mansion. “I know you’re trying to escape, Lana. I don’t want to have to hurt you, but if you don’t go back to your bedroom, you will leave me no choice.”

Alan’s heart sank. He’d miscalculated. “I don’t care if you hurt me,” Alan said, trying to sound brave.

“I see,” Staine said, “But what about your sister?”

Alan’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Elizabeth Clarke,” Staine said. “Of 9 Kings Road in Manchester.”

Alan’s blood ran cold. “Leave her alone, and I’ll… I’ll go back to my bedroom,” Alan said.

Staine said, “Yes, you will. But this isn’t the end, Lana. I know you tried to poison me.”

“I didn’t! I swear!”

“You’re a lying, treacherous little girl, and you’ve gone too far. I don’t know how I will punish you, but retribution is coming.” The line clicked. Staine had hung up.

In a fit of rage, Alan knocked the phone off the table. Then he let out a cry and sank to the floor. All his careful planning had counted for nothing. He’d tried to take on a Goliath, and he lost. The fairytales were bullshit. The sociopaths who ran the world were just too powerful.

Alan buried his face in his hands and sobbed. After all these years, Second Dawn had finally won.

He was broken.