Changes

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright 2026 greyscribbler@yahoo.com

Archived on the Read Only Mind web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

“Welcome back, Miss Simmons.”

Madison blinked, fighting the groggy feeling in her head. She didn’t recognise the voice. Wasn’t sure where it was coming from.

She was lying down, the bright lights making her blink again. She tried sitting up, couldn’t. She was held down, bound at wrists and ankles. She tried yanking her right arm up, her hand bunched into a fist. There was a little give, but not much, whatever was holding her down defeating her efforts.

“Hey!” Madison cried. “Let me go! Who are you?! Where am I?!” She pulled again at her bindings, fruitlessly, before slumping back on to the bed. She couldn’t remember how she’d got here, wherever here was. Her last memory was… She couldn’t remember, it was all too foggy. Frantically she looked around. She was lying on some sort of hospital bed in the middle of a large, white, room. All around her machines beeped and pinged. Some of them were hooked up to her.

Madison didn’t think it was for her benefit.

“Look,” she tried again, pushing down her rising sense of panic. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever this is. I haven’t seen you. You can just let me go.”

“Just let you go?” the voice replied innocently.

“Yeah,” Madison agreed hopefully. “Like I said, I don’t know what you look like. I wouldn’t even be able to recognise your voice.” The voice was male but there was a distortion to it, something electronic. Madison wouldn’t have a hope of recognising it again. Despite her attempt at bargaining, she gave her bindings another yank. It was just as pointless as the last time.

“So.” The voice sounded like it was considering her request. “You want me to untie you and let you go.”

“Yeah,” Madison repeated cautiously, before glancing down at her body. She couldn’t see it, a plain sheet covering her. She hoped that she had clothes on underneath that. It felt like she did. She was sure she still had underwear on and probably more. Was that a good sign? She’d worry about that later. “Just untie me and let me go.”

“You don’t want to be untied,” the voice declared.

“Wha..?” Madison half-exclaimed, her voice dying away before she’d finished the first word. There was a weird feeling in her head and the room swam. She had to struggle to focus.

“You don’t want to be untied,” the voice repeated.

“I... don’t?” Something seemed wrong with the idea, but Madison couldn’t think what. Hadn’t she wanted to be untied, just a moment ago? Wasn’t there a reason…?

“You like being tied up,” the voice said, another declaration. “It’s one of your favourite things.”

That didn’t sound right. She’d never thought that. But the more Madison thought about it, the truer it became. She did like being tied up.

“It makes you feel safe.”

Being tied up did make her feel safe. Even though she was in a strange place, with a strange man. Even though she didn’t know how she came here, being tied up made her feel safe. She knew that she hadn’t always felt that way. Hadn’t until just a moment ago. But she couldn’t deny that it was true.

“Let me go.” She might like being tied up. It might make her feel safe. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be here.

“I’d have to untie you to do that,” the voice pointed out. “Do you want that?”

“I…” The words caught in Madison’s throat. She did want to get out of here. But being tied up made her feel so safe…

“You like being tied up,” the voice said. “It makes you feel safe. It turns you on.”

Madison blinked again, the world lurching. There was a hole in her head, where something had been. Something else took its place. She was tied up. That turned her on so much. Her body was reacting, her nipples tightening, as were things low and deep in her centre. She pulled on her bonds again. But not to escape them. Now it was to revel in the feeling.

“You,” she eventually managed through the arousal. “You’re doing something to me.”

“Yes,” the voice agreed. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You love being tied up now. Being bound turns you on so much. You’re into bondage. You love it.”

Madison knew it was true. It hadn’t been true. It shouldn’t be true. But it was. She loved the feel of the restraints at her wrists and ankles. Holding her. Tying her in place. Images cascaded through her mind. Her tied up. Bound. Robe, leather, silk. It didn’t matter, as long as she was bound. There were so many ways to tie her up, so many positions.

Her pussy throbbed.

“I could tie you up some more, if you’d like,” the more offered. Madison could hear the smile in it.

She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. But the idea was irresistible. “Yes,” she gasped. “Please.”

Something mechanical whirred. Snaked across her body under the sheet. Madison sighed as more she felt more restraints locking in place. About her thighs, her upper arms. Across her stomach. Holding her in place. Restraining her. Binding her.

God, it felt so good.

She was so turned on.

Even so, she was still in a strange place, with a strange man. Who’d done something to her.

“Please, let me go,” she whimpered, half from fear, half from arousal.

“You don’t want me to let you go. You don’t want to escape. You’re not afraid.”

Madison lost focus again. Something was happening in her mind, pieces vanishing. Her eyes regained focus. But something was different. She felt … less. She’d lost something. Parts of her, just gone.

She wasn’t afraid anymore. She didn’t want to be let go. She knew that she should want that. That she wasn’t safe here, something was happening to her. But it was an intellectual observation. She did feel a mild curiosity.

“What have you done to me?” Madison knew that, until a few moments ago, she had wanted to escape. She knew that she should want that. Who knew what else would happen to her? But she just … didn’t. Whatever instinct, whatever rational fear had made her want to get out of here, was just gone. “You’ve done something to my mind.”

“I have,” the voice confirmed. “You probably want to know what. We’ll get to that. But first, let’s talk about you. What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you anything?” Madison spat. She might not want to escape anymore, but she was sure that the voice was doing something to her. She didn’t have to co-operate.

“You don’t want to answer my questions?” The voice sounded mildly surprised.

“No!” Madison declared.

“You do want to answer my questions,” the voice replied. “Fully and truthfully.”

A moment passed. A moment in which more pieces of Madison’s mind fell into the void.

“You want to answer my questions,” the voice repeated.

“I… I do?” Madison couldn’t understand. She did. Even though she knew that a moment ago it hadn’t been true, it was now. The reticence, the caution just … gone. She wanted to answer his questions. Nothing else made sense.

“Let’s try again. What’s your name?”

“Madison Jane Simmons,” Madison replied without hesitation, hardly wondering why she had answered so easily.

“How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen years, two months and four days old. What?” She could have just said she was nineteen.

“I did say fully and truthfully,” the voice explained. “You’re at college. What are you studying?”

“Journalism,” Madison replied. She could have just finished there, but she wanted to tell the voice more. “I want to be a journalist. I’ve wanted to for years.”

“No you don’t,” the voice corrected her. “You don’t want to be a journalist. You have no interest in being a journalist.”

Madison’s head spun. She was falling off a cliff, into somewhere dark. Somewhere that was compressing her, stealing things away. Parts of her that mattered She’d wanted to be a journalist, so much. Had dreamed about it. She knew that. Just as she knew now that it didn’t matter to her at all. Why was she studying journalism when it didn’t matter to her at all? “But, but I did…” she managed, frowning.

“Yes,” the voice cut her off. “You did want to be a journalist. But not anymore. The idea is meaningless to you. It’s not what you want. Do you have any other ambitions?”

“Uh.” Madison didn’t answer immediately. Journalism had been her passion. And now that was just… gone. Everything else had been so much less. But there had been other things. “Maybe find someone? Have a family? I don’t know.”

“You don’t want those things,” the voice told her. Madison tried not to listen, but she couldn’t help it. “You don’t have any ambitions.”

“I… don’t?” Madison knew that she had wanted things. Now they were gone, more parts of her psyche snipped away. She knew that she had wanted to be a journalist. Even after the voice had said she that didn’t want anything, a part of her had wanted to want it. But that was gone now as well. In its place was … nothing. She had no idea what she wanted for her future. Where her dreams had been was just a void. She was aimless, purposeless. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Don’t worry,” the voice reassured her. “We’ll fix that. But you probably are wondering what’s happening to you.”

“Um, yeah?” She did want to know. Something strange was happening She wasn’t afraid. He’d told her that she wasn’t. But that didn’t mean she wanted this to happen. “Maybe we can stop now?” She’d have to work out what she wanted to do with her life, now that journalism was as interesting as queuing up for the bus. She didn’t hate the idea of journalism. It just meant nothing to her. She didn’t want to lose anything else.

“We’ve hooked you up to these machines. You can’t see it, of course, but there are probes in your brain. A few nanites. All sorts of things.” Madison’s eyes flew wide. She tried to feel whether there was anything on her head. In it. Images flew around her mind. Metal probes, invading her. Changing her. “You’re not concerned,” the voice declared. “It doesn’t bother you.” The images died away. The thought of things in her mind, changing her, didn’t bother Madison anymore. “I can change what you think about something,” the voice continued. “I did it just then, with your worries about what’s happening. But you have to be thinking about it. I see the spike on the monitors. See the area thinking about it. Then I can take it away. Or make it more important. Or put something in its place.”

“So that’s why…”

“Yes.” The voice sounded smug now. “I got you thinking about journalism, your other dreams. Parts of your brain lit up. A flick of a switch. And poof! They’re gone. Just like I did then with you worried about things being in your brain.”

“Oh.” Madison thought she should say something else. Demand he take the things out. But she just wasn’t worried enough about them. It just didn’t seem important. Should she worry about that?

“Now,” the voice mused. “What else shall we change?”

“Don’t,” Madison pleaded. She might not care about the devices in her head, but she didn’t want to be changed. “I’ll, I’ll just not think of anything you want changed.”

Laughter erupted from wherever the speakers were. “Really? Just like that? I’ll say something and you won’t think about it? I’d be surprised. It’s like pink elephants. If someone mentions pink elephants, you can’t stop thinking about them. Same thing. As soon as I mention something, your brain won’t be able to not process the thought. And then parts of it will light up and…”

“I won’t!” Madison insisted. She’d have to, to hold on to what was left of her.

“I could just tell you not to try,” the voice was sly now. “You’re thinking about not thinking about what I say. I could take that away.”

Madison quailed in her restraints, no matter how safe they made her feel. And aroused. If he stopped her being able to try to not think about what he said, he could change anything about her. Anything at all.

“But I’m not going to do that. It’s more fun to see you try. So let’s try something else. You’re very attractive, you know. Pretty face, nice body.”

Madison didn’t know where he was going with this. She didn’t think she was vain about her looks, but she didn’t ignore them either. Stop thinking about how you look! she told herself. If she wasn’t thinking about it, he couldn’t do anything about it. But it was so hard. Trying not to think about how she looked meant she was thinking about how she looked.

“You like looking good. You like being attractive.”

Of course she did. What was wrong with that? No reason being ashamed of how pretty she was. At least that change was harmless.

“Do you like showing off how pretty you are?”

That one had Madison frowning. She shouldn’t be thinking about this, she reminded herself. That was dangerous, thinking about whether she liked showing off how pretty she was. Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it. Think of something else. Anything. Not about that. No! The thoughts were still there. She couldn’t help it. Did she like showing how pretty she was?

The voice answered that question for her.

“You love showing off how pretty you are. You love showing off your hot bod to guys. Having a guy look at you feels so good, makes you feel so hot and bothered.”

It was true. So true. Even if it hadn’t been a moment before. She hadn’t been a prude, but she didn’t go out of her way. Now though… The idea of dressing up to show her body off. Clothes that showed her body to her best. Skimpy, revealing. Letting them see what she had.

“You like men looking at your tits.”

What? No she didn’t. She might want to strut around and show off her hot bod in skimpy clothes. Even if she knew that wasn’t what she’d wanted a moment ago. But she had some self-respect. She didn’t want guys just staring at her tits.

She shouldn’t be thinking about that. She almost had time to try to stop.

It was too late.

“You want to show your tits to men. It turns you on.”

Oh God. It did. It so did. The idea of some guy seeing her naked tits turned her on so much. If she wasn’t tied up, she might just pull her tits free so he could see them right now.

“And they are tits. Or jugs or fun bags. Not breasts. Those things on your chest aren’t breasts.”

Madison’s head whirled. If she thought about what they were called, he could change that. So she shouldn’t think about her breasts being breasts. But if she didn’t call them that then they were something else and she was still thinking about what they were called and…

Something shifted in her head, disappeared.

“What are those things on your chest?” the voice asked

“Tits,” Madison replied. Of course she wanted to answer his questions. “Or jugs. Or fun bags. Maybe boobs.”

“Are they breasts?” the voice asked innocently.

“God, no,” Madison laughed. “That’s just silly. I don’t have breasts. I’ve got tits.”

“Would you like to show them to me?”

“Yeah, I would,” Madison agreed. God, that would be so hot. Just getting her tits out and showing them to a guy. She loved that idea. It didn’t matter that a few minutes ago she’d have been horrified by the thought. Now it turned her on. “Um, maybe if you untied me?” Then she could get her tits out.

The voice ignored her request. “What about your pussy? I’m sure you have a very pretty pussy. Would you like to show me your pussy?”

“No!” Madison cried. Getting her tits out was one thing. She loved the thought of getting her tits out. It was hot. But her, what he’d called it. Letting some guy just see it was so wrong. Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking about it. There was a reason she shouldn’t. But she was so turned on, and it was hard to not to think about what the voice was saying. It was certainly so hard not to think about some guy seeing her pussy, after he’d mentioned the idea, even if it wasn’t what she wanted.

“You love showing off your pussy. You love guys seeing it. Getting naked. Spreading your legs. Showing off your pussy to guys is so good. It gets you all hot and bothered and aroused.”

Well, of course it did. Letting guys see her pussy was such a good idea. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? If she wasn’t tied up, she’d just love to strip down and show him her pussy. Still, being tied up was hot as well…

“Vagina. Labia. Vulva. They’re proper words for what you have between your legs, aren’t they?”

“Yes?” Madison replied. Of course they were, so what did he…? God, no! She had to think of something else. Anything. Anything but the words for her genitals.

She couldn’t get them out of her head.

“You don’t know those words. You don’t recognise them. You don’t know what they mean. You have a cunt, a pussy, a fuckhole. It has cuntlips, flaps.”

Madison frowned. Those words were wrong, crude. Hadn’t she known other words? They were gone. Where they’d been in her mind was just a blank, empty, space. She was so caught up puzzling over what words she might have forgotten that she didn’t even try not to think of what he’d said.

“You like those words I just said. They describe what you have.”

That was right. Her pussy had cunt lips. She liked that. God, she’d love to show this guy her fuckhole. He’d see how wet she was.

“You like showing off your tits and pussy to guys don’t you, Madison?” The voice was condescending now.

“Yeah, I do.” Madison didn’t care what tone he took. Just the idea of what he’d described was so hot.

“That’s a bit slutty, isn’t it?”

“I’m not a slut!” Madison insisted. She’d never thought of herself that way. She wasn’t a slut.

“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “You like dressing up to show off your hot bod. You like men looking at it. You like getting your tits out and showing your pussy off when you can. That sounds like a slut, doesn’t it?”

“Er…” Madison’s head whirled. What he’d described did sound like a slut. But she’d never been anything like. But then she so many new ideas in her head and so many old ones were gone and … Was she a slut now? She didn’t want to think about it. Tried so hard not to. She knew that she shouldn’t think about it. But she couldn’t get the idea, the word out of her head, no matter how hard she tried.

“You’re a slut. You love being a slut. You don’t have any shame. You don’t have any modesty.”

More pieces of her vanished. She had no shame. She had no modesty. She was a slut. She loved it.

“Do you like sex, Madison? Do you like the idea of some hot guy getting his hands on you? Fucking you? His cock inside you, making her feel so good?”

“Well, yeah, but…?” She might be a slut. She might like dressing up to show off. Or just getting her clothes off so guys could see her hot bod especially her tits and cunt. But that didn’t mean she was easy or anything. Looking was one thing. But it was her body, she got to decide…

But she couldn’t help thinking of sex. Of losing herself in it. No matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t help thinking of some guy making her feel so good.

“There you go,” the voice smiled. “And we just… You love sex. You want it. You want it all the time. You can’t think of anything better.”

Madison did want to be fucked. She wanted to be fucked so much. She wanted some guy to take her. Even as she was now, bound. Actually, that would be better. Tied up and fucked. That would be so good. But not whoever was speaking to her. He hadn’t said anything about who fucked her. She could still make choices.

“And, of course, a slut doesn’t care who she has sex with. You are a slut, Madison.”

She was. And she wanted sex so much. But shouldn’t she…

Madison didn’t care who she had sex with. Who fucked her. She was a slut. She just wanted to be fucked. Choice was for losers.

“Ever thought about anal, Madison?”

Madison’s eyes flew wide. She didn’t want that. Had never wanted to take it that way. She might want sex all the time, didn’t care who it was with, but there were limits. But she was so turned on. She was tied up and aroused, and she wanted to be fucked. With all that, how could she not think about getting her arse fucked?

“You want anal sex. You love anal sex. You want to have your arse pounded. Just as much as you want your pussy stuffed.”

She did. God help her, she did. She wanted that guy she was thinking about to flip her over and fuck her arse.

“Have you ever sucked a cock?”

“No.” She hadn’t wanted to say it, but hadn’t he said something about a truth drug? It was so hard to remember

“No?” the voice sounded as if its owner was frowning. “A hot girl like you, never sucked a cock? Hey, are you a virgin?”

“Yes.” Madison hadn’t wanted to admit that either, but she didn’t have a choice.

“Oh, that’s rich,” the voice chortled. “A hot slut like you, who just wants to get her pussy and tits out for guys and get herself fucked, but she’s a virgin.”

Well, it was true, Madison told herself. If she was out of these bonds, or if he’d just come in and do what she wanted him to do, she wouldn’t be a virgin for long.

“You love sucking cock. You love it as much as you love having your pussy stuffed or your arse pounded.”

Well, of course she did. Getting her lips around a stiff cock was the best. Just like getting fucked in the pussy or arse was.

“How much do you want to be fucked, Madison?” the voice asked.

“A lot!” she cried. “I want to be fucked! Please fuck me!” Her pussy felt so empty. And so did her arse. And her mouth. She wanted them filled.

“You do!” The voice declared. “You want sex. You want to be fucked. Anyway you can get it. Pussy, arse, mouth. You’re a set of wet, eager holes, just waiting to be filled. And your tits. Don’t forget your tits. You’re a set of holes and tits and a hot bod. That’s what’s important about a slut like you.”

Madison’s head spun, pieces dropping away.

“You’re not a person. You’re just a slutty toy to be played with.”

No! That wasn’t right. Of course she was a person. Not some sex toy. She couldn’t think of herself that way. She mustn’t.

“You’re not a person,” the voice repeated “You’re a slutty toy to be played with.”

More and more pieces of her vanished. The idea of her as a person. As someone who had individual ideas. She was a toy. She wanted to be played with.

“Toys don’t make choices. Toys are told what to do.”

That made sense. Madison didn’t even try not thinking about it. She was a toy, after all. And, after just a moment, it made more sense. Toys didn’t make choices. Toys were told what to do.

“So,” the voice chortled, “tell me Madison, what are you?”

“I’m a toy,” Madison declared. She wasn’t proud or reticent. She was just telling the truth. “I’m a slutty toy. I’m not a person. I love looking good and showing off my hot bod. I love men looking at my tits and pussy. I have no shame. I have no modesty. I want sex. Anyway I can get it. Mouth, arse, cunt. I don’t care who I have sex with. I want it all the time. I don’t have breasts. I have tits. Or jugs. Or funbags. I’m just tits and a set of holes. My pussy is called a pussy or a fuckhole or a cunt. It has flaps or cuntlips. I don’t make choices. I get told what to do. I’m into bondage. I love it. I love being tied up. It makes me feel safe.”

“Well, that sounds right.” The voice sounded like he’d been checking off a list. “But a hot sexy toy like you? Something that just does what’s it told? Well, something like that would need an owner. You need an owner.”

Did she? Madison wasn’t sure. But then, she was a toy and she didn’t make choices.

“You need an owner.” The voice repeated.

Of course she did. She was a toy. Toys have owners.

“We’re going to send you to your owner.”

That sounded good to Madison. She wondered who her owner would be. Not that it was her choice. She didn’t make choices.

A machine hummed and the room faded away.

“Done,” the voice muttered, half to itself. “That’s 759 finished,” it continued, louder. “She’s out and ready for shipping. Get her boxed up and sent. Then get the room prepped for the next one.”

Madison didn’t hear any of that, consciousness gone. Didn’t see the two blank-faced women who shuffled into the room and wheeled her away. But she wouldn’t have cared anyway. She was a toy.

(The End)