Deflowered

Not that any of those facts seemed to matter to the man in the hazmat suit as he peeled the tights from her legs, balled them up and tossed them into the bin. He pulled off her panties in the same manner and rolled her over slightly to unhook her bra, allowing her breasts to settle into her armpits as natural orbs always do. For some reason he left her hair pinned up and wheeled the bin containing her clothes into an empty corner of the room.

Gwen lay there, naked and pale on the table, looking at that moment more like an inanimate doll than a human being. The only hint that she was alive at all and not formed of wax came from the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the neat patch of hair that covered her genitals.

But when the second man came to the table, he took a razor from the tray he had carried over and carefully relieved her of that one patch of body hair. He hunted for more places to shave, but when he could find none he instead busied himself with cleaning the makeup from her face and plucking from her body every item of jewellery he could find, placing them in carefully in a small plastic bag.

The two men gave one another a silent glance and then left the room, their responsibilities discharged.

Gwen still lay silent and naked on the operating table, awaiting her fate.

As it happened, Gwen did not have long to wait before she was again joined in the room by strange men in white. But rather than the hazmat suits of the men who had brought her from the jet, these men wore a combination of protective clothing and the theatre clothes of surgeons. They numbered two more than the original men and they were as anonymous behind their own tinted masks and silent in the same manner.

They brought with them into the room a collection of metal containers the size and shape of great trunks, wheeling them in on convenient castors and leaving them at strategic points around the table. Two of the men fussed with the containers while two looked Gwen up and down in a manner more scrutinising than that of the original pair.

The lid of the nearest container was opened to reveal a garment folded inside, which when pulled out and opened up revealed itself to be made of a shiny, rubberlike material that caught the light with its striking shade of green. As two of the men carefully inspected every inch of the garment, it became clear that the shape was distinctly unusual, resembling a wetsuit that had been heavily altered for some unknown purpose.

The garment started at the head with a hood that would tightly cover the entire skull save for the face and continued as a conventional wetsuit might have done until the eye reached the ends of the sleeves. These continued into a pair of gloves that seemed to be set in the centre of an oval pad perhaps a tenth of an inch in thickness. Within the oval the fingers of the gloves were spread wide and the material filled the space between them so that no one digit could be separated from the whole thing.

Below the waist things became even stranger as there was no separate leg for each limb, but instead a single tube-like sheath that would contain them and hold them together. At the base of the tube there was a heavy blub of green rubber which seemed to sit where the wearer’s feet would emerge from the thing, swallowing them whole in the process.

Even if she had been awake to see the bizarre garment for herself, Gwen would have had little time to take it in as the men carried it to the side of the table and with the help of their colleagues, began to ease it over her inanimate form.

The garment was open from the base of the spine to the nape of the neck, allowing the men to guide Gwen’s legs into the lower portion a little at a time. The fit was incredibly tight and though the material stretched somewhat, the process was still a matter of inching the girl’s legs further and further into the holes provided. While her legs would be held tightly together inside the garment, each of them was accommodated in a separate sleeve inside with a layer of firm and yet yielding substance that mimicked the consistency of her own flesh. Once the entire length of her legs had been fed inside, the effect was such that Gwen’s lower body seemed to have been moulded into a single seamless limb which began at her waist and ended at the ankle.

With her legs firmly within the garment, Gwen’s feet had been pushed down into the blub at the very bottom of the garment. Inside this they sank into a mass of the same substance that shaped the space between her legs. This flowed around her feet and held them in a gentle but unyielding grip which rendered them immobile and unmoving.

As the garment was pulled over her groin, one of the men guided a series of complicated structures built into the corresponding area into place with painstaking care and attention to detail. These tubes, pads and rubber lips would be essential in allowing the most intimate parts of Gwen’s anatomy to function once the costume was in place.

Her arms were fed into the sleeves and her hands into the bizarre gloves before the material of the garment was spread across her belly and over her chest. Each of her breasts was held inside a specially shaped pouch that clung to their surface like a second skin and allowed her nipples to be seen beneath the rubber that covered them.

Next was her head as one of the men covered her hair with a rubber cap and the hood was pulled over the top. Gwen’s face was now visible, surrounded in an oval of green and the only part of her own skin that could still be seen as she was turned onto her back and one of the men sealed the edges of the costume together with a heated iron shaped like a miniature pistol.

Almost the second the last inch of rubber was sealed together and Gwen was beginning to be turned onto her back once more, the cellular adhesive that lined the inside of the costume began to activate. In a matter of a few moments, the substance bonded the costume to her skin so completely that there was no true way to differentiate the two. The shape of her body that had been traced visibly beneath the rubber became even more defined as it shrank to cling to every minute detail beneath.

Another box opened to reveal an object that might have looked more in keeping with the props of a sci-fi movie, it being roughly egg-shaped, detailed with veins and in a green that matched the rubber covering Gwen’s body. Rounded at one end, the other tapered to a slight point and there was a hole in the base of the thing through which her head was slipped so that she was wearing the thing in the manner of a helmet.

Gwen’s features were lost from view until one of the men probed a well hidden opening at the back of the thing and the entire front portion slowly opened outwards. The tapered front of the object split into six equal parts, the inside of which were a vibrant orange in colour and framed her face perfectly.

At this point it would have been hard not to see the purpose of the costume in which Gwen had been sealed. Her body was wrapped into a shapely green stem, her hands spread in the centre of broad leaves and her face looked out from within a crown of petals.

She had been transformed into a human flower.

But the men were not yet finished with her.

A trolley that bore and huge vessel of carved stone was pushed to the foot of the table and the bulb which contained Gwen’s feet eased off the end at the same time. When her knees reached the bottom of the table, the trolley was jacked up an inch at a time so that the vessel met the blub as perfectly as possible.

The opening at the top of the vessel was only slightly wider than the blub and two of the men fought for a short time with the fit before the entire thing slid inside. Once it was within, a small crucible containing liquid rubber from the same source as that which formed the costume was carefully poured into the space that remained. It filled the gaps completely and set so that Gwen’s legs were firmly rooted into the vessel.

After all, a flower needed to be planted in a pot.

Their work nearing completion, the men closed the petals over Gwen’s face and stood her up from the table. Once she stood vertical in the pot, the men were able to withdraw their support and allow her to stand unaided. Though she remained unconscious, layers of synthetic fibre woven into the material of the costume flexed and stiffened in response to the effect of gravity upon Gwen’s body. Designed to imitate the function muscles, they ensured that she would remain upright while her own remained slack.

With their job done, the men downed their tools and left the room as silently as they had entered.

In the few minutes that passed before the original men in their hazmat suits returned to move the human flower to its ultimate destination, Gwen was left alone and inert.

It would have been entirely possible for a person to walk by her, no more than a few feet away and take her for some species of giant bloom as she stood there in her pot. Her face was hidden by the closed petals of the headpiece and her arms hung lifelessly by her sides with their hands disguised as leaves.

Perhaps upon closer inspection it would have been hard to miss the details of her body that were evident in the stem of the flower and from there see the shape of a woman beneath what was clearly a skin of rubber.

But maybe upon making such a realisation, the average person would have resisted the temptation to touch the body beneath the rubber and hurried away lest the fate of the human flower befall them as well.

None of that seemed to bother the men in the hazmat suits upon their return.

Instead they simply took hold of the trolley and wheeled Gwen out of the barn and away.

At first, Gwen could not be sure whether the light that filled her vision was blinding her because she had opened her own eyes or not. Her mind was fogged, as though she were waking up with a terrible hangover and it was hard to make sense of her surroundings. While it seemed to follow that she must have been inundated with the light because she had just opened her eyes, there was the inescapable feeling that they had already been looking into some kind of impenetrable darkness when something else changed and admitted the relentless beams.

Slowly the barrage of light resolved itself into a discernible pattern of shapes and colours, allowing Gwen to get some vague idea of her surroundings for the first time. She saw walls of glass, held in place by a framework of black metal perhaps ten or fifteen feet from where she stood. A beading of rain was just visible on the surface of the panes and the beginnings of a garden could be seen beyond.

So she was in a conservatory, or a greenhouse of some kind.

A half recalled saying about people who lived in glass houses sprang into her mind for no good reason and sank back into the background as she ignored the random thought.

Tracing her line of sight backwards from the panes of glass, Gwen saw first one and then ever more rows of low benches. Each was filled to bursting with plants of which she had never seen the like before. There were flowers of course, spectacular blooms that looked as though they had been created from imagination rather than the course of evolution. But for every flower there was a non-blossoming plant that was equally strange to Gwen’s eyes, colours and form alien to a person more used to conventional flora.

A greenhouse then, she thought.

That would make sense for a charity that wanted to save endangered orchids.

But then she recalled the jet, and the conversation with the nondescript man.

Gwen felt a low cry of dread begin to build inside her chest as she looked around the greenhouse with a growing sense of dread.

There was no charity, no meeting and no position as a spokesperson. The entire thing had been some elaborate trick for which she had fallen without a moment of hesitation or suspicion. She cursed her own stupidity, the naiveté that led her to trust the word of strangers and landed her in this situation.

She cried out again, not words but rather a sound that represented her feelings of helplessness and fear. The noise echoed around the interior of the greenhouse, but there was no answer and no one came to investigate. It seemed that for the moment she was alone.

It was then that an odd though occurred to her: how was she remaining vertical when she could feel the muscles in her body were in a relaxed state as she breathed?

Gwen glanced down at herself and took a good few moments to resolve what she saw into something that made any kind of sense to her.

At first she thought she was naked, but then she quickly remembered the fact that she had never been possessed of green skin as far as she could recall. Her eyes followed the line of her body downwards, noting in a muddle of confusion that not only did her skin seem to be green in colour; it was also rubbery and caught the light in a manner that made it look almost slick and wet.

Gwen moved her thighs to see the extent of the changes that had overtaken her body while she slept and was surprised to find that while she could feel every inch of her form, the range of movement that she was capable of had been restricted somehow. Her legs seemed to move as one limb rather than two and while she could twist and turn herself, there was no way she could move from the spot on which she stood or lift her feet to take a single step forwards.

Watching the odd motions of her lower body, Gwen realised that her legs were moving as one because they in fact were one. There was no separation between the limbs as their shapes simply flowed into one below her waist and continued on downwards towards her feet.

But when her gaze reached the end of her legs, it did not find her feet as she had expected it to. Instead Gwen saw that the united shape of her legs simply disappeared into the mouth of a large vessel of some kind. She supposed that it was the reason that she was standing, that somehow being trapped in the thing was keeping her from tumbling to the ground.

Gwen reasoned that her feet must be inside the thing, held down by some unknown means that remained hidden from view. At least she thought that must be the case. As she started to dwell upon the matter, she was forced to admit to herself that she could feel something inside the pot. But she could not be certain that it was her own feet, not totally sure that the sensation of her body ending in something soft, yielding and yet at the same time firm accounted for familiar appendages at all.

She knelt down as far as she was able, all the time seeing more and more of her bizarrely transformed legs, and reached out to touch the lip of the pot where her body disappeared from sight. But when her hands came into view, she was again so surprised that she was stopped in her tracks.

Gwen turned her hands over, touching one with the other as she explored their shiny green skin and the wide oval flaps that webbed her fingers, turning them into broad paddles. She clenched them into fists and then opened them out again over and over, trying to make sense of the sight of them. She was at once both disturbed by the outlandish nature of their new shape and reassured by the familiar details of her fingers and thumbs.

In an effort to ensure that she was not simply dreaming, Gwen pinched at the green skin of her stomach with her flapping hands. She yelped in pain as the sensation of pulling at the rubbery surface of her body registered the same discomfort as pinching the skin of any human being.

With a growing sense of unease at the memory of the way the light had seemed to reach her eyes not as a result of their opening, but of the opening of something as yet unknown, Gwen probed around her neck and slowly upwards. She was rewarded with confirmation of her suspicions as her hands met with a barrier of some kind when they should have been able to slide upwards and onto her face. From there her hands traced the shape of the barrier out for perhaps a foot from the side of her head and then back inwards until they came into sight on either side of her face.

Fearing to look and yet compelled to do so at the same time, Gwen turned her head towards the closest pane of glass. It was no mirror, but she was sure that the reflective surface would be enough to allow her to see herself for the first time since she had awoken. A churning feeling had begun to build in her stomach as he mind pieced together the evidence and whatever she saw in the window; it would answer the question one way or another.

At first it was hard for Gwen to truly take in what she saw, a large part of her mind struggled to see more than an image of an old fashioned greenhouse filled with exotic plants of many colours and shapes. She was forced to wrestle with her own reason and focus upon the tallest of the blooms in the picture, to truly study the way which it towered over the scene with its broad and curving stem. It was difficult to accept the limbs that sprouted from its sides, the way they moved slowly as if the thing were animated and the way in which they ended in broad leaves so resembling hands.

But hardest of all was the need to take in the oval at its crown, surrounded by orange petals like the elements of some elaborate headdress. Gwen would have struggled with the task of seeing any human face staring back at her from the centre of those massive petals; the fact that it was unmistakably her own made it almost too much to bear.

Her mind struggled with the information that her senses had provided, trying to come up with some sane explanation for what was happening to her. But at the same time as her rational faculties were being taxed by the reality of her situation, the more wild elements of her mind were spinning lurid theories about what she had woken to find herself transformed into.

As the more irrational theories began to gain momentum, the small snippets of information that could have convinced Gwen that she was still a human being were lost in the deluge. Little by little the entire thing began to make an insane kind of sense to her as she added more details to the whole.

The petals must have opened with the first rays of the sun, which was the way it was with flowers that needed the light to survive. She looked at the palms of her hands and suddenly she saw that her fingers were the veins of leaves, broad pads of green that she could spread out to catch yet more of the precious light that she needed to live. Her legs were now a single stem in order to carry water up from the ground, and of course she could not feel her feet anymore. What plant had feet after all? The soft and yet firm sensation she felt inside the pot was nothing more than her roots, spreading through the soil in search of the moisture she would need as a plant.

This could not have been a trick or an illusion, of that she was convinced. The whole idea of the charity must have been a cover for some grand scheme to take a human being and turn them into some kind of plant creature. Why anyone would want to do such a thing was way beyond Gwen’s ability to theorise, but she saw herself as the living proof that it was never the less the truth.
It was odd, but soon after she had come to that conclusion, Gwen could feel a great deal of the fear and anxiety that had spread through her when she awoke begin to dissipate and fade into the background as though it simply did not matter anymore.

She had tried to call out for help and no one had come. She could not pull herself out of the pot into which she was rooted either. And even if she had been able to, what then? She did not have legs to make her escape on anyway.