The Rose Diaries Ch. 14

Disclaimer and Notes: The Rose Diaries is an incredibly dark story focusing on forced (heavy emphasis on "forced") feminization of a completely non-compliant individual. There are elements of non-consent, violence, and dark subject matters. In addition, this story depicts dysphoria, dissociation, and general depression.

I hope you do enjoy this chapter if you decide to continue reading. If you do enjoy this chapter, please leave a comment/feedback and let me know!

Act 2 will have fleeting moments of intense physical violence. I will give more warning when it is present in the chapter. It is in general darker than Act 1.

WARNING THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MOMENTS OF INTENSE PHYSICAL VIOLENCE.

Thank you. *****

He folded his hands on his chest as he grinned madly in the back of the trunk. He slept soundly despite the discomfort wrapped in the warmth of his cooling rage. He should've stabbed her three times, four times, six times, or twenty times. He should've carved her throat out with his teeth when he had the chance. But as he played back the panic-stricken face of Mrs. Tyson as he tore piece by piece from her torso, he realized he didn't have much of a chance. He had acted perfectly. He had completed his task. As the adrenalin wore off and the thoughts of his impending doom swirled in his head, he remembered how hard she had kicked him. Mrs. Tyson was not a weakling. She had strength he hadn't seen from her. Her first instinct was to fight back. Not to panic, scream, or to lie there. She fought back as hard as she could.

He imagined a scene of sorrow in his spare time. Which, as he was locked in the trunk, he had plenty of. Miss Amanda Stone draped herself in a black dress of no particular design. She carried with her a porcelain white handkerchief stained black with dripping mascara and eyeliner. She threw herself on top of the wooden casket as she cried out,

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" But no one would answer back. She'd sob, and wail surrounded by her fellow Misses. He'd be looking down with a smirk because he would, of course, be very, very, very dead.

The thought made him giggle to himself. As cruel as it was, Peter knew that it was well deserved. No matter what the Stones did to him. They would never be able to erase the damage he did. They would never be able to forget what Peter Baker had done. The car came to a sudden halt, and the engine died down as well. He lifted his head up slightly while focusing on any strange sounds. He needed to be slightly alert just in case-

The trunk flew open, and a group of hands grabbed hold of him. They tossed him out of the trunk quickly covering his eyes with a blindfold. As he tried to protest, someone hit him hard over the back of the head. He fell to the floor while his ears rang. Before he could do anything else, another blow hit him on the side causing him to fall on to his back. He quickly attempted to remove the blindfold but found his arms being held at his side. The sound of clothing being torn from his body filled the odd room. He was dragged over what felt like hard concrete and tossed aside landing with a heavy thud. As soon as he could, he pulled the blindfold free and glared into the darkness. He stood strong against whatever clenching his fists and readying himself for another hit.

A group of blinding lights illuminated the dark space and burned into his retinas. He screamed trying to block the pure hot white light shooting towards him. His eyes struggled to adjust, but he saw a shadow move from behind. He blinked away the pain slowly as the room faded into perfect view. He stood in what appeared to be some sort of industrial building full of concrete walls, wiring mounted on the walls, and very few lights. What was odd, however, was that the small little corner he stood in was covered in white tile. The shadow tossed handfuls of odd white powder at him.

"Would you," Peter called out in frustration as he shielded his eyes from the odd substance. "Just fucking stop!" The powder clung to his naked body. It had no odor, no scent, no anything. He gazed out into the distance as he heard the squeaky sound of a valve.

Instantly, water spewed out from between the lights and slammed into him with a force he could barely comprehend. His mind reeled at the pain of the blast as his body was tossed back and forced against the wall. He tried to shield himself from the torrent of water but found no position in which he could hide from its continued assault. He screamed in agony, a sound that bounced off the walls, and was silenced as he coughed from the stray streams of water that made its way down his throat. He took a step forward trying to escape but found only more misery as he landed on the tile hard and was pushed back against the wall. His head ached, his back was sore, and he did not even want to think about how the rest of his body cried out for a reprieve. The water died down into a trickle as he watched the bubbly slurry of powder and water flow down the drain. He saw it now, it was some kind of soapy mixture that dripped from his nude form.

"Doll, do you admit to the murder of Mrs. Cecilia Tyson?" An electronic male voice spat out from on high.

"She's dead?" He tried his hardest not to sound too happy.

"Do you admit it!" The voice yelled back. He strained his eyes against the light as he saw the silhouette of a person.

"Can you prove it?" He smirked.

"We know you did. It'd be much less painful if you came clean." The voice spoke back.

"If you say so," He shrugged slightly. "I killed Mrs. Tyson."

"Again." It ordered.

"I killed Mrs. Cecilia Tyson." He spoke as clearly as he could. "I killed her because I knew it'd piss you off, Amanda. I killed her because I wanted you to suffer like me. So, go ahead and torture me! You'll never ever get her back." He laughed manically at his own taunt.

"I am not Ms. Stone." The voice spoke back. "I am not part of Blackstone." His eyes widened as he gently took a step forward.

"You aren't?" Peter's mind swirled with questions at that one statement. He barely managed to squeak out that one sentence before more panic set in. He waited for a response but found none. As he opened his mouth to speak, the lights went out leaving him stranded with only his questions and fears in the pitch blackness. He waited moments before taking another step forward. Then another. Then another. Each step brought him just a tiny bit further. Each step brought him closer to where the lights were. His eyes began to adjust to the darkness seeking light where there was none. In the black abyss before him, he heard movement.

"Here." The voice called out from his right. He turned quickly for face it.

"If you aren't a part of Blackstone then how did you come across Mrs. Tyson's car?" He called to it. A much softer overhead light flickered on, and he wished for darkness even more.

Four. Four people were standing before him, and Peter's throat ran dry at the sight of them. Masked men, like villains in a comic-book or bank robbers in an action movie, stood before him. But they were not mere men. They were giants who loomed over him by at least a foot in height, and he did not want to think how much they differed in weight. They wore impeccable black suits with a pink pocket square monogrammed in gold with a curious looking symbol. It was the uppercase letter P, but it appeared to be wearing a crown. The suits did not do their body justice as the clung tightly to their muscular forms. They each gazed at him with icy stares that pierced his nude form. The same sort of gaze he was used to receiving by his brief conversations with Mrs. Tyson's driver. He caught their eyes, and they immediately snapped to attention their bodies standing erect with their hands folded behind their back.

He heard someone behind them clear their throat and they quickly stepped out of the way to reveal a beautiful girl with chestnut brown hair that trailed long past her shoulders and almost glowing green eyes with slight flecks of gold. She wore a soft pink nurse's uniform with the same symbol on her chest pocket. She adjusted the headdress and bat her eyelashes at his confused gaze. She sat with her legs crossed in a plastic folding chair bouncing up and down slightly.

"Hi!" She giggled. "You look very confused."

"Are you," Peter groaned stamping down his foot. "I'm not in the mood. What the fuck is this?" One of the masked men took a step forward with his fists clenched. She rolled her eyes as she snapped her fingers.

"Back off!" She barked. "If you want to be so aggressive then you can go fetch our friend something to cover up." The man turned nodded before briskly walking away into the shadows.

"Let's get this over with." Peter sighed all too familiar with what this all meant. "Who are you, what do you want, where am I, and why am I here?" He counted each question on a finger on his left hand. She pondered his questions for a moment before nodding her head.

"Rude way to start but okay," She held up four fingers of her own. "I am Nurse April, I am here to evaluate you for Doctor Johnson, the location doesn't matter, and because you murdered the Blackstone's, right-hand woman."

"Nurse? Doctor?" He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. I don't need a check-up. Where's the exit?"

"Silly, no one leaves without Doctor Johnson's permission." She giggled again. "Would you like anything?" She offered, uncrossing her legs and standing up from the chair. Her uniform ended at her knees which the rest of her slender legs were clad in sheer white stockings that ended in the same color pink pumps. She looked like she was wearing a costume. He had to wonder if she and Miss B. shopped at the same store.

"I would like to leave." He growled.

"Ooh," She sucked air between her teeth and clicked her tongue shaking her head no. "That's not going to happen. Doctor's orders."

"Fine." He felt his legs grow weak and weary as the initial shock of being sprayed wore off. He felt down quickly as every cell in his body screamed out. He clenched his teeth, fists, and curled his toes as he tried to force the pain away.

"You!" She barked again, her sickly-sweet tone immediately turning into a rough, demanding one. "Get our friend some painkillers and a glass of water." Another man scurried off at her command.

"Friend, huh?" He groaned.

"Of course." She beamed. "We're friends."

"Whatever." He sighed. One of the men returned with a soft white bathrobe with the same monogrammed "P." He shot a nervous look at Nurse April before approaching Peter and gently draping it over his form.

"Good work. Now if you can be a good boy, you can continue to be down here."

"Yes, Nurse." The electronic voice from before whimpered from the man.

"I don't get it." He groaned sitting up. "You beat your friends? Spray them with hoses?"

"Yes!" Nurse April smiled. "I do that to all my friends."

"So, this doctor of yours. Where is he?"

"Perfect!" She clapped her hands together and leapt out of her chair. As he heels touched the concrete, one of the four men quickly snatched up the chair and folded it back up. "You're ready. Follow me, Doll!"

He struggled to get back to his feet, but he did to his body's dismay. He stumbled forward and away from the small tile. Before he could fall again, one of the men on his left caught him out of the air before gently returning him to his feet.

"Be careful, sweetie." He spoke to him in a different electronic voice before giving him a gentle pat on the back. "Do you need to be carried?"

It hurt Peter to say yes, but he chewed his lip and nodded anyway. The man scooped up his frail body from the ground and carried him forward in his arms cradling him ever so gently like one would a newborn child or a lover.

"I don't get it." He muttered as Nurse April spun on her heels to face them.

"That's okay!" She giggled walking backwards as she spoke. "All you need to know is that you are precious and valued here. Like royalty!" She beamed before spinning back around again.

"Royalty?" He scratched his head.

"Exactly! Someone to be cared for, protected, and cherished. Royalty!" They bound deep into the darkness to the left traversing the concrete jungle of whatever this place was. Work lights mounted on the walls were the only sources of lights inside and could just illuminate the path in front of them. He couldn't help but focus on the lights. They weren't anything special nor were they anything at all. Just lanterns hung on mounts above. But they weren't covered in the dust and grime. They were pristine as if they were set up yesterday.

Nurse April, an energetic young woman who skipped instead of walked and giggled after every sentence, was a mystery to poor Peter. She was like them all, and the fact that they addressed him as Doll rather than his name was a clear giveaway.

Friends? As if. She was his enemy. So like he had done so many times before he focused on the small insignificant details in hopes of starting a plan to escape. A skill he had honed from what felt like decades of abuse.

The cold interior eventually presented them with one single door. The man who carried him gently returned him to his feet then rushed forward to get the door. The pain still remained, and Peter guessed that it would for days. But he still stood and wrapped himself tightly in his robe before taking his first few steps towards the door as the giant man opened it for him.

"Doctor?" Nurse April called into the dark interior.

In a flash, there was a small shower of sparks and light as a tiny flame was born. There was a man seated in the darkness who held a lighter in front of his face. He stared at them with a stone-faced gaze.

"Come in." He spoke coolly as Nurse April shrugged and entered with Peter hesitantly following. She turned quickly and flicked a light switch to the left of the door. The light of the flame could not compete with the fluorescent lights that hummed to life.

He was seated at a small wooden desk in the corner of the tiny office. He was not the youngest man as grey tendrils slowly started their campaign against his jet-black hair. He had a square jaw and masculine features that could not be denied. He sat straight in his red leather chair only adjusting himself as Peter attempted to hide from his gaze behind Nurse April.

"Doctor, what on earth are you doing?" She asked him placing a hand on her hip.

"Practicing my dramatic reveal." He said in the same deep voice. "Did it work?"

"It was very dramatic." Nurse April nodded. Instantly, the man's eyes glittered like stars, and his face immediately brightened up and began to exude energy and life as if someone had just plugged him back in

"Great!" He smiled tossing the lighter away. He wore a lab coat over his black suit the breast pocket monogrammed like everything else, but in his, he kept two pens and a cell phone. He stood quickly from his chair and marched over to the two of them. "How's my favorite cocksucker doing today?" Nurse April smiled and laughed twirling a strand of her hair in her fingers.

"Just fine Doctor."

"I was referring to Doll." He laughed as Nurse April turned red and walked over to a corner of the room.

"I see." She squeaked.

"So, how are you love?" He smiled extending an arm to the chair in front of his desk.

"Are you in charge here?" Peter growled as he took his seat.

"I'd like to think so!" He chuckled shooting a look at Nurse April before sitting back down in his own chair.

"Then you know that I've been hit, hosed, and nearly blinded today. So I'm not doing too hot." He spat towards the doctor. His acidic words rained down upon him.

"Okay! There's a start." He smiled kicking his feet up on the desk and picking up a yellow legal pad from next to him. "Let's go back to basics and start at the very beginning. I am Doctor Michael Johnson, and it is so good to make your acquaintance." He spoke jotting down notes on his pad.

"I don't need a doctor," Peter grumbled crossing his arms. Doctor Johnson made some more notes before placing his pen down with a sigh.

"Doll, I'm not a physician. I'm a doctor of the mind and yours is definitely in need of some healing. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah." Peter sighed. It pained him to admit how right he was there. His mind was an emotional mess. It seemed he could barely think straight under the weight of trauma and stress that plagued his every living moment.

"Good." He smiled as he took more notes. "You murdered Mrs. Tyson."

"Yeah, and?" Peter groaned.

"You murdered another human being. You must feel something about that."

"I feel nothing. Only regret that I didn't do it sooner and that I couldn't do it again." Doctor Johnson paused.

"Anger huh?" He clicked his tongue. "Let's talk about that. Why are you so angry?"

"Okay, let's." Peter smirked. "Of course, I'm mad. Blackstone kidnapped me, YOU kidnapped me, and you want to know why? I was beaten every fucking day, I was forced into having sex. I was forced into wearing women's clothes. I was given a name that I despise and then beaten if I ever used my real name." He yelled slamming his hands down on the table.

"Is it not abduct since you're an adult?" The doctor pondered aloud.

"No, the legal definition of kidnapping has no age limit." Nurse April chimed in. Peter seethed in his chair in fury at their stupid ways. Another familiar feeling.

"Reasons or no, Cecilia Tyson had a family and a life. You can feel justified, but you will have to face the consequences of your actions. You said you were forced to have sex, but didn't you enjoy it? Are you telling me there was never a moment that you wanted it?"

He remembered the warm silky touch of Miss K. and R. in the baths. Their hot breath and tongues as they caressed every inch of his body. Their flesh against his. The three of them playing and admiring each other.

"No." He banished the thought. The Doctor frowned.

"Alright." He placed down his pen. "Doll, I'm going to be honest: I think you're lying and if you're going to lie then I can't help you to my fullest."

"Who said I wanted your help, Doc?" Peter hissed back.

"No one. Little girl, you are in so much trouble. Judging by your blank stare I see the Stones have kept you far in the dark about our organization. We are known as The Princess Network. We are a vast global group that facilitates the sale, processing, and connection between girls like you and their future owners. Blackstone is one of our partners as is The Pink Room. So, it is on behalf of Blackstone that we intervened in your development. From this moment on, you and I will meet once a week."

Peter rolled his eyes at the man's demands.

"We will work together to bring out your latent potential." Peter laughed loudly at that.

"Good luck Doc." He snickered leaning further back in his chair. "I'm still deciding how far I can jam that pen of your into your eye before it pops."

"That's something." He nodded as Nurse April stepped forward from the corner towards Peter. "You feel good about that statement, killer?"

"Hell yes." Peter smiled standing out of the chair.

"Good. Good." He nodded. "I'll return you to Blackstone's care then. We'll see each other next weekend. Oh! By the way," He trailed off as he leaned under his desk and smacked something. Not even a minute later, a group of masked men arrived.

"Mrs. Tyson isn't dead." He said with a heavy sigh as he felt the men grab hold of him.

"Wait, what?" Peter spat out as he was stunned into silence. Before he could open his mouth again, he was gagged and torn away from the chair carried out by one of the men while the others rebound his legs and arms.

"See you later, Princess!" The Doctor called as they brought him into the deep darkness once again. They brought him through the darkness and towards the only source of light.