Forced to Change

My breath felt hot on my face as I tried to breathe through the bag. I was sitting quietly between two men who stank of body odor. The Jeep engine started and then we were moving. My hearing felt muted as the engine roared to life.

The men chattered around me. I caught a word or two here and there, but for the most part I missed the gist of their conversation. It became background noise competing with the thundering of my heart, which was fluttering out of my chest like a caged eagle or falcon. I pictured a strong bird of some type beating its wings against the sides in an attempt to fly away. That seemed far more likely than the events of the past few minutes.

Paul. Paul was dead. I'd watched him die. That fact couldn't be real and my heart ached more from it than its frantic pounding inside my chest.

We were moving fast, the road was uneven, and my body shifted with each dip and pitch of the Jeep. The men on either side of me had hold of a wrist apiece and I didn't notice their rough fingers on my arms until we'd been riding for at least ten minutes.

I wasn't noticing a lot of things and that made me panic more. That, mixed with the feeling of being cold in the sultry heat, was awful. I couldn't understand what was happening to me. Time seemed to flash forward, but I was still in the Jeep rolling across the road at an alarming rate.

I was aware that I didn't hear another engine. What had happened to the truck with the other students? The light outside the bag over my head was filtering in through small holes, but it was so dark. Had the sun set already? Had only ten minutes passed or was it more? I wasn't sure. I was having the worst nightmare of my life and yet, no matter what I did, I couldn't wake up.

I tried to lift my hand to scratch an itch on my left ear, and I was reminded of the hands holding me by the wrists. The chattering leveled off or just became a soft din to my ears. I shivered with an icy feeling pulsing throughout my body.

Why was I so cold? Had the temperature dropped so drastically? I could still feel the sweat on my skin, soaking my T-shirt and shorts.

I heard shouts from outside the Jeep, then we stopped. The men spoke fast, but it sounded like greetings. A motor started up louder than the Jeep engine and we began moving forward.

The passage of time didn't feel linear, as if it was skipping ahead like a bumped needle on a record player. My clothes were being ripped off my body by a couple of women. I could tell they were women by their high-pitched voices and excited chatter.

"Where am I?" My voice sounded so tiny I couldn't believe it belonged to me.

I was dragged around until I ended up in the middle of a grove of trees, near a river or spring. I couldn't tell for sure. I still couldn't see much through the bag over my head. The women-at least three, maybe four-didn't respond, even though I was sure they'd heard me. I felt surreal and hollow as their hands moved over my body.

They pulled my t-shirt up and over my head. I was lifted by my arms and held off the ground as someone worked my shorts down my legs. They pinched and spanked me, giggling as they touched my body. I tried to ask where my friends were and someone slapped me hard across the face.

I was twisted and turned, poked and prodded. I was flipped upside down and my panties and bra were removed. Once I was naked, the fingers of many hands touched me, pulled at me. I sobbed as I felt rope wrapped around my wrists and ankles.

My ankles were tied to my wrists and I was dangled by the hands of the women. The bag was lifted off half of my face and I felt more exploring fingers. Cloth was stuffed into my mouth and secured with the coarse rope when the bag covered my face again.

They moved me closer to the body of running water, suspended by the ropes securing my hands and legs together. I was set down on a scratchy piece of cloth. My skin felt as if tiny insects were crawling over me. The thin material between myself and the ground gave me no comfort as I was pushed to lie on my back. Something cool and creamy was spread between my legs—shaving cream, maybe. It was worked into my pubic and anal hairs. More fingers pinched and pulled my labia apart and my sobs shook my entire body from the unseemly position of exposure.

My body tingled from the contact, and my skin flushed from embarrassment. I writhed against the scratchy blanket trying to escape the fingers that slid over my pussy, taint, and ass. I could see the dim light cast by little campfires spread out around us as the bag was finally removed from my head.

She appeared from the darkness with a straight razor in her hand, an older woman with long black and white hair. I rocked my hips and scooted my backside away from her as she stared at me with kind eyes and a soft, knowing smile. A young woman on my left covered my folded body, halting my movements. The strong latin girl held me down easily, clamping a hand over my gagged mouth and pinning my body to the ground. My tears fell faster and my cries louder.

The woman with the razor sank to the ground in front of my splayed legs on her knees. She worked so quickly I barely felt the blade stroking against my sensitive skin removing all of the hair around my sex. The younger woman finally moved off me while the older woman sat back and rubbed something cool into my freshly shaved nether region.

I watched her, shocked as it glistened once the cream was applied. The girl who had held me down and another I hadn't seen before lifted me off the ground by the ropes attaching my ankles to my wrists. I was set down on a small square rug next to a tub placed close to the water with my head hanging down and my hair falling to the ground.

A young man approached me next. Even in the twilight I could see his skin was sun-kissed dark, a coloring it would have no matter the season. He was thin, but a healthy thin. He took a knife and cut the ropes securing me. When I stood he cut the gag from my mouth. The blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy. I took a step back and stumbled into his arms. He lifted me over the edge of the tub and dropped me in, the cold water reaching to just above my knees. I sobbed harder, shivering as he washed me using the frigid water and a rough rag.

When he finished washing my body, he lifted me out of the tub and dunked my head in, wetting my hair thoroughly. The young man stood me on my feet on the square rug and used a towel from around his neck to wipe up the drops of ice water on my body.

"I'm Paco. You American, right?" he said as he patted me dry. "It's good you no talk. No talk to others. No fight. No run. You be good girl and you be okay." He smiled a gap-toothed grin as he rubbed oil over my body.

I felt numb and exhausted. My teeth chattered from the cold washing and my tears caught in my eyelashes. Large vision-blurring drops fell silently down my cheeks and off my chin, dripping onto my chest. It felt like a lot of preparation for my death. I figured with the amount of work these people had put into cleaning and shaving me, at least I wasn't going to die, yet. I couldn't guess what I was being prepared for but surely it wasn't death. Then again they could be cannibals. I mentally shied away from such a thought.

"Americans have lots of money. But you have no money, right?" he asked.

I nodded slowly.

"Others have money. They go back when Commandant gets money." He used the towel to dry my hair. "But you pretty. No, not pretty. Better than pretty. Dark skin, big tits, and big butt, with tiny waist. You short. Commandant like girls like you. He will like you."

I trembled at his words. Even the relief of not being eaten couldn't hide what I was being prepared for instead. "You be okay. I tell you what you need do. So you not go to chamber."

"The chamber?" I whispered, shuddering at the thought.

He tsked at me twice and then smiled his gap-toothed grin. "You must never talk. Not even to me. No yell. No scream. No talk. Chamber very bad. Smell really bad." He pinched his nose shut and waved his other hand in front of his face. "You be there three days. You feel like you die. If you live, you never want go back. So you do nothing make Commandant angry and you never go. Okay?"

I nodded my head as he worked a brush through my frizzy hair, untangling it. "No talk. No fight. No run. You do whatever Commandant say. Quick. Quick and you be okay."

I nodded again.

I stumbled along with Paco as he rushed us through the trees toward some buildings. The compound seemed like an abandoned army base with village-like adobe homes mixed in and one out-of-place mansion in the middle. It was so dark out that the buildings were silhouetted and I could only guess what they were. We stopped in front of a set of double metal doors of what could have been a warehouse. I felt as if my heart was pounding out of my chest, my legs disconnected and numb. Nothing felt quite real. I was horrified by the thought of what was behind those doors.

Why kill Paul? Where are the other students? What happened to Miss Dub? How would I know who the Commandant was? What if I made him angry? What if I made a mistake? What was the chamber?

My mind grasped at and formed a million questions, but the most prevalent was why. Why was this happening to me? Why couldn't I wake up from this nightmare?