Reserved

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water were in her new stomach, and she spend the next good while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts, no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water were in her new stomach, and she spend the next good while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts, no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water were in her new stomach, and she spends the next good while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts, no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water were in her new stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts, no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water were in her new stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts, no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough of a sting out of the to leave room for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water were in her new stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts, no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough of a sting out of them to leave room for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water was in her stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts, no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough of a sting out of them to leave room for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water was in her stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts (like being forced to mentally gender herself in a female way, and the strange computer-like features in her mind), no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough of a sting out of them to leave room for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

((( continues from: This prequel story )))

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water was in her stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts (like being forced to mentally gender herself in a female way, and the strange computer-like features in her mind), no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough of a sting out of them to leave room for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

((( continues from: Arrival: the Holy Childe )))

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water was in her stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts (like being forced to mentally gender herself in a female way, and the strange computer-like features in her mind), no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough of a sting out of them to leave room for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

((( continues from: Arrival: the Holy Childe <- a link)))

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water was in her stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts (like being forced to mentally gender herself in a female way, and the strange computer-like features in her mind), no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of sting out of those lingering feelings, maybe even enough of a sting out of them to leave room for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

((( continues from: Arrival: the Holy Childe <- a link)))

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water was in her stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts (like being forced to mentally gender herself in a female way, and the strange computer-like features in her mind), no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of the sting out of those awful feelings, maybe even enough of a sting out of them to leave room for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.

((( continues from: Arrival: the Holy Childe <- a link, much more sex horror themed, can skip it if that is not your cup of tea)))

She wakes in a panic, limbs scratching at the wooden deck of the boat. The fact her limbs can move at all helps her realize that her situation is different from the last dozen times she has woken up. No pink walls of writhing tentacle flesh, no mesmerising seductive and wonderful voice digging deep into her mind and turning her all happy and subservient against her will, no tentacles binding her limbs and restricting her movement, nothing invading her holes.

Though, like before, she wakes up with physical changes to her body, more severe ones than before.

She looks down at… a child’s body, thin limbs and a narrow and flat torso, and her head feels much too big for her small body. It seems the changes the voice made to her body before are still represented. She can feel her new wings, tail and horns. Her hands are still tipped in dragon claws. All the parts were the same as the voice had shaped her to have, just smaller.

Apparently this is what the voice meant by “new body”. At the very least she is free, no more pit, no more voice, no more having her personality turned into a subservient happy whore who craved the touch of the tentacles. Remembering those memories now she has time to actually process them makes her physically sick. She leans over the side of the boat to throw up, feeling horror at what had been done to her and deep shame from even a altered version of her enjoying it.

The side of the boat gets a spray of whatever bile and water was in her stomach, and she spends a long while just feeling awful and sobbing.

Her mind recovers relatively quickly though, able to think of other things than the disgust and shame of what had happened, faster than she would have expected it to. There was the bright side of freedom, even if her body was changed into some strange child with wings and other animalistic features, her mind was now free of further manipulation. Even though there are still some persistent mental changes influencing her thoughts (like being forced to mentally gender herself in a female way, and the strange computer-like features in her mind), no longer will the voice force her into calmness and subservience. She is free to feel bad, and that was actually such a relief to be able to feel fear and disgust without it being supressed. The sense of freedom takes a good deal of the sting out of those awful feelings, maybe even enough of a sting out of them to leave room for some optimism? Things were looking up enough to care about her situation at least.

She gets up on wobbly little legs that felt far too short and stubby and takes a look around the boat she is on.