The Rose Diaries v02 Ch. 01

Disclaimer: This story is an incredibly dark story focusing on the forced feminization, trafficking, and torture of a young man by an enigmatic organization. There are elements of violence, slurs, non-consent, and other disturbing details. I hope you enjoy the story if you do choose to read.

Author's Note: This is the second version of TRD attempting to recapture my original vision of the story after I grew disappointed with the first. This version is far more focused with a revamped Blackstone Manor and several narrative changes. Even if you have read the first version there is enough divergence to make this story different than the original. Also, this is about 13 pages in my document so its nearly double the length of the first chapter I uploaded here so this is quite a hefty entry. Thank you for reading!

He could feel the burden of consciousness steadily returning back to him. Life blossomed within his chest and his heart began to beat once more. He kept still, quiet, and calm letting air fill his lungs and exit through his nose.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Where had it all gone wrong? There was the girl. The dark raven-haired bombshell with a wicked sense of humor. Her eyes darker than night, wine-colored lips that tempted him to sin, and a diabolic smile. All of that delightfully macabre persona neatly packed into a pitch-black ensemble that screamed of non-conformity.

Deep Breath.

They had ordered lemonade at the park. It was some fancy pop-up place that had just seeming come from out of nowhere. It was ten dollars for some artisanal lemonade that tasted just like the powdered stuff. Sickly sweet with a tinge of tartness.

Exhale.

It didn't agree with him. He wasn't even sure it was possible for that to happen with lemonade but he remembered feeling stomach cramps nearly immediately and hot flashes. It took nearly everything he had to just walk to the park exit. There was an urgent care clinic not too far away. Just a few blocks away on the east side. She called him a ride share as he sat on the cool concrete. She was confident that he was going to be just fine.

There was something around his wrists. It was cold, hard, and uncomfortable. He shifted around and pulled but found only pain in response to his actions.

Breathe.

He opened his eyes and found only horror awaiting his gaze. He was in some sort of bathroom seated in a clear plastic chair directly above a large drain. The floor was made of unblemished white tile while the ceiling was a decorated with an almost floral motif. His eyes darted around the room quickly but there was no sign of use of this room, no sign of damage or time passed, it was just so perfectly sterile. But what scared him the most was the pair of metal handcuffs slapped across his wrists tightly and attached to a metal lead that was connected to the floor a few feet ahead. He was also completely and utterly naked.

This was not a medical clinic.

This was something else.

This was horrible.

Exhale.

He slowly lifted a foot slightly off the ground and leaned forward in the chair. He glanced around the room again craning his neck to get every conceivable angle. There was nothing aside from a door directly in front of him.

How could there be nothing? What was this place?

Breathe.

Exhale.

He closed his eyes again and lowered his head.

Breathe.

This was not a medical clinic. No doctor, no nurse, and no...

Shit, did he even catch that woman's name? Had he been too preoccupied and ogling her whenever she looked away? But how could he not? She wore such a lowcut top with a corset for crying out loud! Just remembering it made him feel things.

It wasn't cold. Though he was naked as the day he was fucking born. The air had a slightly sweet aroma to it. It could have been inoffensive or pleasant to other people, but he hated it. It felt like the scent was sticking to his lungs with each damn breath and that was all he could do. Sit and breathe in this bathroom until he passed out from inhaling that sickly sweet scent and died.

Exhale.

There were thousands of stories like this that he could recall off-hand. Stories that ended with the subject being eaten, tortured, and murdered. Sometimes not in that order either. People were absolutely insane, and he knew it. He, after all, worked customer support. He understood the true nature of the evil of humanity.

So many horror movies that he had watched with friends late at night were flashing back to him. How would he get out of this trap? It was clearly a small room with only one entrance. Perhaps it was some strange prison cell. Would he need to pick the lock on his binds? Or would he simply need to chew through his arm to be free. He was never good with pain. Even thinking about those actions made him queasy and weak.

No.

The number one enemy in all those scenarios was simple. It was that the characters panicked, made dumb choices, and then died. That would not be his fate. He would stay calm, he would stay collected, and he would make smart decisions no matter the circumstances. If he panicked, he would lose. He did not want to lose.

He could feel his body shake now. His heartbeat ringing in his ears. He tried so hard to keep himself calm, to not panic, but he could feel his sanity beginning to slip away into madness. If he broke out into hysterics would that help at all? He had to focus on something. Anything!

Breathe?

Breathe.

Exhale.

Br-

His eyes flew open as it finally set in.

With a quick motion, he jerked his wrists up as hard as he could sending sparks of red-hot burning pain through his arms and eventually back to senses. All the air that he had saved in his lungs was expelled in a quick gasp of agony, but his arms did not stop. He pulled, yanked, jostled, and tugged against the binds letting the chain join in with a chorus of mocking derision at his attempts. With each motion, he could feel his wrists growing more and more sore but that was not what bothered him most. The harder that he tugged then the shorter the chain's lead would become. By some trickery or machinery, he could feel the slack of the chain to the ground becoming less and less with each try.

"Stop it." He balled his fists with a whimper. The burn of humiliation rushed in his veins to his head before he could even take another breathe. A tight pressure began to build against the walls of his chest.

Breathe.

His breath was ragged and short unable to cope with the insurmountable weight of the situation at hand. His eyes burned against the light of the room, but he found no comfort in the momentary darkness between blinks. Tears began to well in the corner of his eyes as the futility of his actions grew more apparent by the moment.

"Hello?" His call wasn't meant to be answered. It was a weak attempt to grasp at some level of safety. After all, he couldn't imagine what the person who would appear before him would even look like. In the quiet midnight hours of his old apartment, he saw many of his possible captors' visages played out before him on a cheap television screen. Twisted, mangled, and disgusting figures who hid gruesome histories behind masks or mascots that replicated their visceral hatred and bloodlust. Amalgamations of pure evil that sought only to make the world a worse place to wreak their unholy havoc. Eyes gouged by profane visions and immoral thoughts that would make the strongest person retch in disgust and horror. All of them designed only to strike terror and dread in the hearts of their victims.

He remembered laughing at each and every one of them. How disgustingly unrealistic it all was. How corny, how cheap, how idiotic some of those forms took. He remembered his friends sharing in their derision of these monsters. How they reveled in the sanguine sorrow played out in front of them.

It made him feel strong then.

Now, he only felt afraid. Afraid of the consequences of his mocking would bring him. The karmic punishment for his own sins now presented before him. How long would he wait for the verdict to fall?

What was going to be his fate in this madness?

Breathe.

There was no sense in it. The futility only served to foster the frustration that was steadily bubbling inside of him. He could only focus on that which he could control. On that which he had to control.

His eyes closed once more. This time, he didn't dare to look any further at his possible future.

Exhale.

A fleeting shot of calm fired through his synapses. He could feel himself steadily drifting back to Earth and away from his rampant imagination's worst concepts. If he failed to hold tight to his own peace, then he would surely fall deeper still. He couldn't imagine a fate worse than that. He needed to keep his sanity for just a bit longer.

This might be his last chance at it after all. A strange melancholy formed within his mind with that idea of acceptance.

If anything, he wished that he had more time to say the things he needed to.

"I know you can't hear me." He didn't speak but rather mouth the words. "But I'm sorry that I ran away. You didn't deserve what I put you through and I guess I see that now. You always sent me those stupid postcards every birthday. I used to hate them, even thought you were stupid, because you could've emailed. But I guess you knew I'd ignore all of it anyway. You were right about everything. I just wish I could tell you this. I just wish that you could hear me say it. I love you Dad. I'm sorry."

He let the words linger in the air. There was no sound that carried them, no energy in their forms, but he could feel them anyway. It was his wishes, his dreams, and the truest he had ever been to both himself and everyone.

He was ready and so he sat still for the first time in either minutes or hours and drew in another breath. This time focused and strong.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Breathe.

Exhale.

Each puff of air that filled his lungs grew his resolve. Little by little, he could feel the melancholy giving way to both rage and fury.

Why wouldn't he get a chance to say those things?

It was not over. Not until he stared his death in the face and saw the final blow. As long as he drew breath, there was still hope. He just needed to make his own luck.

So, he waited in the darkness behind his eyes. Counting each breath until the count didn't matter any longer. Until he simply was.

Eternity passed and passed again before he heard his fate.

A loud groaning sound echoed across the room as he felt a draft of cool air rush in. There was the sound of shoes against the tile and then the door shutting gently behind.

He didn't dare open his eyes. Perhaps if he ignored them, they wouldn't be there when he did.

"Good afternoon." The voice was cordial and sweet. It didn't hold any threats, any malice, or hate. It was just a pleasant sound.

"Do you wish to talk?" He let her question hang in the air for a moment.

"Where am I?" He spoke with as much strength as he could muster. It originated from his chest though it was hard not to let his teeth chatter in crazed fear at this stranger's presence. There was a deep need taking form inside of him. In this situation, he needed to be strong and forceful. He needed to show no fear and to not back down.

"Blackstone Manor." She said it was such majesty as if he should be humbled and awed by the name alone.

"Never heard of it." He said in the same brave voice he was desperately clinging to.

"I wouldn't have expected you to." She gave a small polite laugh. It did nothing but make his blood boil.

"Who are you?" He pressed down upon her with all the wit and might he could. He needed answers, keys to solve the mystery he had so rapidly found himself trapped in.

"My name is Beth, but I go by Miss B. around here."

"Miss B.?" It sounded odd even speaking it. Was it a title? A form of address? A joke?

"Exactly. Do you wish to tell me anything?"

"No." He bit his lower lip. "I do not."

"Shame." Miss B. sighed. "I had hoped for a longer conversation."

"I don't care." There was no way he would tell her anything that she could use against him. He needed to be strong.

"Evidently." She paused for a moment. "Would you like to leave the room?"

"Of course."

"Well, you can leave with me if you want."

"I do not."

"So, you would like to stay here?"

"And where exactly is here?" He asserted himself once more still with his eyes fastened shut.

"As I said this is Blackstone Manor."

"I see." The answer did not give him any further confidence in his situation.

With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes.

The woman in front of him would have been a sight for sore eyes in a much different situation. From her graceful features, dark chocolate eyes, to the silky chestnut hair that was so effortlessly placed in a bun and held with a golden butterfly charm adorning the top of her head. From her ears hung two curious little things. They were made to look like little honeycombs made of pure gold with a small gem sitting in each opening. He couldn't help but to let his eyes wander downwards. From her white blouse to the long slender legs gently encased in sheer stockings that ended in a pair of black high heels. She held in her hands a small tablet computer which she glanced at occasionally.

"Are you finished?" She said after a moment and his eyes snapped back up to her face. How long was he staring at her for?

"I could be." He grumbled testing the strength of the cuffs once more.

"I can remove those." She motioned to his binds. "Unless you are more comfortable staying in that position?"

"No. Why did you handcuff me to the floor?" He spoke once more from his chest making sure that elements of his anger began to leak into his inflections.

"Just a part of the process."

"What process?" He snapped back quickly. The word chilled his heart with every passing second. There was nothing more terrifying than something so banal yet mysterious as her statement.

"Bringing in someone new." Another strange sentence.

"It required shackling me to the fucking floor?" He huffed.

"I will warn you once. Do not use profanity in my presence." Her eyes narrowed and her voice became gravely cold.

"Or what?" He snarled back at her. He could feel his blood racing as the frustration built.

"Do you truly wish to find out?" She crossed her arms with a disappointed sigh. The kind of gesture reserved for mothers finding their child's hand in the cookie jar. It was disgustingly parental.

It only had him seethe further.

"What if I did?"

"I'd question your intelligence." She glanced down at the tablet. "Are you dumber than I was led to believe?"

"And what were you led to believe?" He pressured her for answers again. "What exactly do you know about me?"

"Enough." She stated flatly. "Satisfied?"

"Untie me."

"You seem in a rather violent mood. I'd rather not."

"You said you would."

"I can say and disregard what I wish. I am a free woman."

"But I can't?"

"No." She gave a small laugh that made his blood boil. "You most assuredly cannot."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Beth. But here I go by Miss B."

"That's not what I asked." He grit his teeth. "I'm not asking for your name."

"I know." She glanced back at the tablet.

"Do you need an example?" He snarled. "My name is Peter Baker. I'm nineteen years old and I am a technology specialist over at Sparky's Electronics."

"Hm," Miss B. stared longer at the tablet this time. "That is an answer."

"You can't do this." He jumped from chair in hopes of startling the woman, but she just continued to stare down at the tablet.

"I will give you an option to leave with me right now. We can speak in a far more suitable environment. I, personally, think that coming with me is the smarter choice. Not because I want you to but rather due to the fact that your options being locked in this room are limited at best."

"Let me go." He clenched his fists as he continued to stare her down. He could feel the fear and anger mixing into something far more potent.

"I am trying to." She gave the simple retort as she took a small step forward. "Take a seat and I will remove the cuffs."

He listened. Peter didn't know why he decided to listen to her ridiculous commands, but he listened all the same. Slowly he lowered himself back down into the plastic chair and extended his wrists out towards her. He just continued to stare down Miss B. as she approached. Making sure that whatever she saw in his eyes, in his posture, was nothing less than pure animalistic ferocity.

It didn't even phase her for a moment as he felt her soft touch around his forearms pulling him closer still as she inserted a key into the locking mechanism and finally freed him from his bondage. Satisfied, Miss B. took a step backwards and gestured for him to rise once more.

He sprung from the chair once more and launched himself at her with speed and purpose. His once contained rage began to spill forth from the deepest wells of his soul. He grasped greedily at the air that separated them and clawed at anything that could give him purchase on her body. His mind was utterly consumed with the primal desire to maim, destroy, and hurt this woman. This woman with her strange words and malicious intent.

Peter felt it as he moved. His body was not reacting to his mental commands as it once did. Instead, there was a moment of hesitation to the orders that his brain fired off to the limbs that would execute it. His movements were sluggish and weak while his lungs begged for breath from the simplest of motions. His entire body ached with each step, with each gesture, and he found himself easily evaded by the object of his hatred and rage. He barely, if anything, stopped himself from colliding with the nearby wall as he charged through the space that Miss B. had once occupied.

"I wouldn't do that." She said with another disappointed sigh. "You've been sedated with carefully measured increments for an extremely long period. Your body will likely not function as well for a few more minutes to an hour."

"Excuse me?" He said between pants for breaths. His entire body struggled to move under the waves of exhaustion that crashed against it. He had never been in the best shape, but he wasn't this predisposed to being this out of the breath by simple sudden movements.

"You heard me just fine. Just be calm and take things slow. You should have no problem if you do that."

"I'll kill you." It was all that he could think to say. A cliché threat under the crushing reality of his situation. He tried to numb himself to his emotions, to his anger and fear, before he would make another easily deflected mistake.

"That is extremely unlikely." She rolled her eyes. "I'd refrain from making threats in my presence again. I understand your anger, frustration, and fear but I can't agree with such awful statements."

"You," He was slouching as he caught his breath between each word. "You monster."

"Come along." Miss B. ignored his insult opening the door the outside. "I'll fetch you some water."

"I don't need anything from you." He lied.

"That is unfortunately incorrect." She tapped her tablet once and then glanced back at him. "You need me far more than you will ever know."

He gnashed his teeth as he followed her out. He was too weak to even attempt to grab hold of her again, his body felt heavier than it had ever felt before. There was the taste of acid in the back of his throat as he stomach cramped once again. Was he poisoned? He could feel the pressure building in his head. The confusion beginning to take physical manifestation in his body. On instinct, he closed his eyes and dulled his perception to this alien place.

Breathe.

Exhale.

"You look pale." Miss B. offered him from further away after a few moments of silence. "Perhaps some sun will do you good."