The Making of Chloé

Chapter 1

I had no idea what the fuck was going on. I looked at the two other women chained to the poles next to me, and desperately tried to figure out what we had in common, what on earth would destine us to experience the same ordeal. Me, I was a middle-aged, very average woman - with one exception: I was an esteemed academic. Member of Mensa, the club bringing together people with an extraordinarily high IQ of above 150. I looked back on a 15 year tenure as a professor of psychology, with a respectable publication list about human interactions, with a focus on what attracts people to one another. Given my obvious lack of appealing physical attributes, this question had haunted me for my entire life.

Next to me trembled a stunning girl. She was sobbing, could barely hold it together in her panic. Yet, even in this moment of pure terror, she was very possibly the most angelic figure I had ever laid my eyes upon. Her body was simply perfect. Her jawline must have been modeled by a sculptor. Her black hair was flowing down her shoulders like a soothing waterfall. Her deep red, full lips were jittering and still tantalizing. Her body was petite, with relatively large tits. Her lusciously full and round young breasts swang in the rhythm of her sobbs. I could not see her ass, but her legs were breathtakingly long, shaped curvy and slim. She was so perfect that she would have won any kind of beauty contest in the split of a second. It made me jealous, how attractive she was. The glow of innocent beauty around her was in now way compromised by her tears.

Next to this teenage beauty, another woman was chained to a pole. She, too, was young, possibly in her early 20s. However, she had nothing of the innocence of the beauty next to her. Rather, she looked like a wild animal in heat. She was tearing on her chains, roaring in anger. Her dress was one of a working girl, possibly a stripper. It revealed a tattoo of small stars on her neck, and when she howled, her tongue exposed a piercing. The way she moved to maneuver herself out of her restrains was impressive. Her body battled the bonds in the flexible, quick, smooth ways of a wild cat, in powerful and elegant waves. Her white top was clinging to her sweaty, slim breasts and flat stomach.

Both of them would have made for wonderful study objects for my work on attraction. In this context, however, my mind was numbed by the situation I found myself in. We were forced to sit on a cold linoleum floor, our hands cuffed to a pole. Until today, I am not sure whether it was fear or my low body temperature that made me shiver so much. I heard steps in the corridor, hard, quick, determined. I looked around me and, in the moment the door was opened, I realised we must be in a sort of hospital or laboratory.

Grey, wild hair. A flickering mad look in his eyes. The raw energy of intelligence paired with a disturbing amount of confusion shining through each of his erratic gestures. He ushered quickly towards us. Once he was standing in front of us in his white lab coat, he pulled his medical gloves over his fat fingers. His tall silhouette was lightened from the back by some sterile LEDs. I shuddered. What a mad scientist, what a crazy place to be held hostage.

"Here you are, my little birds", the mad scientist uttered through his grinning, old teeth. "Did you know that there are different forms of love? Did you? Let me give you a small introduction. A bit of knowledge doesn't hurt, does it? John Lee developed a typology of six love styles between 1973 and 1988. You should read his works, if you haven't yet." I was stunned. What was he doing? And I was intrigued. I had always appreciated Lee's work, it had become part of my belief system. What the fuck did this man rant about, where was he going with this? He continued while gently stroking the wild cat of a woman who furiously tried to evade his touch: "There is Eros and Ludus. My Joy, you should know this all too well. Eros is a passionate, physical and emotional love. What is most important here is aesthetic pleasure and joy. Yes, you are sensual, you enjoy the chemistry between two bodies more than anything else. You, my dear, tend to combine it with Ludus, a love type that is playful. In fact, you treat love like a sport, a conquest. You play it to win it, my dirty little stripper girl. You would never commit, because then you would be trapped with only one player. When you are not challenged anymore, you move on. In fact, I believe you are addicted to sex, you indulge in it like others do sports." Joy snapped at him at the sound of his voice, her teeth trying to get a hold of his unwelcome fingers.

The mad scientist laughed behind clenched teeth when he moved over to the transcending beauty next to me. The old man tapped her head while talking to her. "And then, there is Philia and Mania, sweet Isabelle. You should have experienced this a lot. Mania is defined as obsessive love, the kind of experience with very high and low emotions, the possessive and jealous type of your teenage years. And Philia, my Belle, is the affectionate, innocent love that is developing slowly, sometimes from friendship, but in any case based on similarity. I bet you are thinking of your high school sweetheart, right now, my beautiful one. Yes, he gives you what you need: admiration, trust, reinforcement, value... You are obsessed in your own little way, you know that? Ah, who would have thought that a Beauty Contestant ends up on this cold floor, mhm?" Belle could not stop crying, but our kidnapper seemed to be absolutely cold towards emotions. Instead he approached me.

He held my chin up while he talked to me. He took my glasses off, which left me in an helpless, half blind stage. His wrinkled fingers felt oddly warm on my skin. "Have you figured it out, already, smartass?" He drew nearer to me, his smell was intoxicating and foul. Mhm, Sage, my little professor? That's right: Pragma and Agape are the remaining love types. You don't really know sexual pleasure from your own life, do you? You have restricted yourself to Pragma, the kind of love driven by your rational mind. If you have sex, then you do it on a cost-benefit analysis. You choose your partners like others choose products on the market. And you always comforted yourself with your naïve belief in Agape, the love that is selfless, altruistic, giving, never expecting anything in return, eh? You were always willing to generously give, unconditionally. How did it work out for you so far?" It stung. He knew me better than was rationally to be expected. And it hurt, to be told that I was sexually not exciting and a failure.

The crazy man kneeled down to look us in the eyes. "Here is what we really need, what mankind really needs. We need a new evolutionary step. We don't need more population, we need better population. Have you heard the predictions? We are on track to reach 9 billion people on this planet by 2050. Where do you want to put all of them? And the worst of it: we are not getting any wiser, any better, where are the evolutionary leaps? You three are the chosen ones, you know? You will help me take mankind to the next level." He clapped in his ageing hands as if to applaud himself. "You are perfect. Sage, you are smart but not attractive. Isabelle, you are beautiful but naïve. And Joy, you are wild and seductive, but unfortunately not wise at all. Imagine we could combine your strengths into just one person? What an amazing woman we would have! A smart, beautiful, and seductive bombshell. Irresistible and interesting at the same time. Someone who would attract the smartest and most handsome males of this planet. You could achieve everything you want, you would bring about a new development for our race. You will combine everything that is good about you in one body. Ah, I am so happy for you. There are some side effects, but hey, every advance comes at a cost. No memory of your past, only your primal instincts will remain. You will be raw, an empty slate to write human history on. All your negative sides will disappear. And you will be the most beautiful creation that has ever walked on earth. You will age three times as slowly as a normal human being. You will even have a new name: I will name you 'Chloé', which means'fresh blooming'. Compelling, eh?"

I realised my mouth stood wide open. This was plain madness! How would he want to achieve that? What would happen to me? The idea was, admittedly, compelling. Yet, such thinking was wrong on so many levels! This mad man was gonzo, nuts, demented!

Chapter 2

I woke up the next day, bound to an operating table. I could hear the cushioned cries, howls, screams and calls of the other two girls next to me. However, I could not move an inch. I was terrified and absolutely helpless. I could not turn my head, and my entire body was transfixed to a cold surface. Cold sweat was running down my thighs. I felt the table was moved, lights were passing by and I realised I was pushed into some sort of a tunnel. Electric cables were attached to my fingers, my toes, my head, my breasts, my stomach and my pussy. I felt vibrations all over my body. It felt so extraordinarily good that the sensations were cutting through my fear. My primal instincts of flight or fight were overridden by a sweeping feeling of relaxation, arousal and even lust.

I could feel that something was odd. Something happened around me that I had never experienced before. I felt how my body tightened. If I didn't know better, I experienced how youth was flowing back into my veins. My skin felt as if it was refreshed. I started to feel lighter than before. Whatever the electric cables did to me, it felt rejuvenating. Surprisingly enough, I also had the feeling that my legs were stretched. My stomach seemed to get flatter than it had ever been. And it felt as if my breasts were growing to be fuller, rounder, perkier. When I bit my lips, they felt more voluminous than I was used to, and I sensed some metal in my tongue. It was an oddly enjoyable experience.

The light around me got white and started to blind me. I got dizzy, something was very wrong and felt very right at the same time. My brain started to pass out for split seconds. Everytime it pulsed back to life, I came back from a black nothing and felt a tad bit different. Firstly, I realised that my insecurities were gone. At the next blink, my doubts and frustrations vanished. With the next pulse, I had troubles remembering my name, not to mention my past. Next, I felt strangely powerful and confident. After the next blackout, I felt sexy, desirable and insatiable. This process continued for a little while. When I opened my eyes for the last time, I felt incredible: Strong-willed, unrelenting, devoted, naughty, horny, wild – just like Joy had been acting. I also felt innocent, beautiful, angelic, devoted and glowing from the inside – just like Belle had seemed to be. At the same time, I realised I was awake, curious, resourceful and smart as always.

After what felt like an eternity, I was pulled out of the tunnel in a room whose ceiling consisted only out of mirrors. Above me I could see the reflection of who was lying on the operating table. I was in a state of eternal shock. I could feel it was me, and I saw my fingers moving in the mirror when I moved my fingers. However, what I saw was clearly not me. It was incredible. Never ever in my life had I seen such a perfect beauty. She resembled Belle very closely, she had this glow from the inside. Her thighs were long and slender. Her breasts were nearly too big for her slim body, but fitted her overall youthful appearance perfectly. They proudly stood up, as if to invite any bystander for a free feel. Her stunning face was framed by curly, black hair, her jawline appealing like before. Her nose had the characteristics of a queen, her lips those of a sultry singer. However, some things were different. Her stomach was clearly accentuating muscles that I would have rather expected to find in Joy, the stripper. She was tanned like Joy had been. Her shoulders and arms were exercised in a way that only dancers have. My intimate area was completely hairless, as if I had never had grown any hair. I actually was mesmerised by the innocence and temptation my pussy now exuded.

To be absolutely sure that I was looking at myself, I showed the mirror my tongue. And yes, my expectation was fulfilled: I carried Joy's tongue piercing, too. Also, I realised that I wore a small tattoo on my finger, just like Joy had. In fact, I realised, nothing of my previous appearance persisted. I had become a better exercised, sexier version of Belle. In other words: I had lost my physical appearance to now look like the better, combined version of a 19 year old Joy and Belle. Looking at myself like this, bound to a table and at the mercy of those around me, I realised that my pussy began to soak. I was actually aroused!

While my head was released from its bounds and the electric cables were taken off from the most intimate and less private parts of my body, I looked to my left and right. I saw the two operating tables on which Joy and Belle had been tied. To my shock, they were empty, the straps tangling freely from each side of the tables. In this moment, I heard the low, discomforting voice of the mad scientist again. Today, it had a very triumphant undertone: "Chloé has been born! Welcome to your new life, Chloé! You will see, your new life will be more exciting than you could have ever imagined! We already have a programme set out for you to prepare you for your new self; and cannot wait to introduce you to what is ahead of you!"

To be continued...