This choice: Charlotte and Becca in the waiting room. • Go Back...Chapter #8Charlotte and Becca in the waiting room. by: Mixer   Abandon all hope ye who enters here.
An appropriate label to generalize the entire facility. Especially in Charlotte's case. Yet, unlike in Dante's hell, where a scary boatman and a promise of pain somehow astronomically greater than what one would soon feel was the punishment, in this case, it was a mob of pink-clad, rainbow haired, dewy faced sluts.
Yes, Charlotte read the Divine Comedy. She wondered why that surprised everyone so much? She liked her shakespeare too, just like she appreciated her now imperiled cunt.
"Let me go! I'm straight! I like my dicks attached to men! I... let me go! You selfish whores!"
Like the damned of hell, Charlotte's face turned white, her teeth chattered and her smug attitude dissolved into some of the most pitiful sobs and begging she had ever thought herself to be incapable of.
"Please oh please let me go!"
...Not that any of it made any difference. For every plead she had, they had a counter.
"It'll feel really good, trust me."
"Oh don't worry, be brave."
"Way to stick it to the patriarchy!"
Urgh! Charlotte slumped down. It was like talking to a brick wall. How did they have any right to say it felt really good anyways? All these worker's clothing left nothing to the imagination, sometimes quite literally, and she did not see any sign of cock on them.
...She did see what looked to be a naked man with a pretty convincing vagina, though.
She could not tell how far the mob dragged her or where exactly Becca had vanished to. It was all a wall of pink from beginning to end. Eventually, however, she felt her back hit something cold and the mob trickled away like water from a tub. A thoroughly dazed Charlotte shook her head, banishing some of the color from her eyes, and looked around.
The room was... not pink! It was white and mostly featureless. Just a florescent light above, some grates to the side, and a padded floor and wall. Like some sort of nuthouse.
A chill ran down Charlotte's spine. What exactly went on in these clinics were kept very, very secret. All she knew was that they were apparently very quick about doing the operation and rarely gave time to think or take "no" as an answer. "Cant give time for the indoctrination to reassert itself" they would say. Instinctively, she knew she was at the last stop. Nothing short of a miracle could save her snatch now.
"Ready to be liberated?" A voice on the intercom asked.
Something within Charlotte snapped.
"No. NO! Let me out! Let me out!" Like a lighter, her panic reignited. "Please! Please! I'll do anything if you let me out! I'll... I'll be more open minded! I'll never make fun of Mona again! I'll listen to Becca talk everyday! I'll do what my mom says, marry, and have kids! I... Please! Please! Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa- "
And Charlotte hit the padded ground, unconscious.
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