Unbroken

Lisa was awoken by a pain in her temples. She shot up instantly, rubbing her head, and looked around. The headache had interrupted a dream she’d been having, about being home for Christmas. The smiling faces of her parents and her old school friends. The snow falling and the fireplace crackling.

And the feeling of fabric on her skin. Against her legs and arms and on her back. The weight of a big winter coat on her shoulders. The tight embrace and support of a bra. Gloves on her hands and a scarf around her neck. All of it, without pain or discomfort.

But it was just a dream. She was still in the witch’s house, and had spent the night on a ratty old mattress, without so much as a blanket to cover herself. She looked down at her unsupported breasts and the spot between her legs, where hair was no longer visible. Her “outfit” from last night, high-heels and bracelets, lay in a corner of the room. Her long hair fell about her face.

The headache still raged. Lisa had the intuitive sense that it was Lady Annabelle’s way of calling her to her duty. Duty. No, captivity. She had no duty to this evil woman, no matter what was said to the contrary. The shoplifting had been a mistake, Lisa regretted it, but she had surely suffered enough.

With a grunt of effort, Lisa pushed the heavy bathtub away from the door and opened it. Standing in the doorway, about to step out, she had a familiar moment of panic. She was stepping out into the world with nothing to cover her body. Even after so long, she felt keenly the air against her exposed skin.

“There you are,” said Lady Annabelle. She wore a form-fitting emerald green dress with a plunging neckline, and her red hair was beautifully curled, like a fifties glamour model. “I have a job for you in the basement. Do it well, and you will regain your power of speech.”

Lisa’s eyes widened with hope and she nodded vigorously.

“In the basement, you will find a frog,” Annabelle continued. “This frog was not born a frog, but a man. He brought this punishment upon himself, but has served his term and learned his lesson.”

Lisa nodded again. She wondered how long her own term was to be.

“The curse can only be broken by a kiss,” Annabelle continued. “Not true love or any of that fairy-tale nonsense, just a kiss on the lips. Kiss the frog, and he will become a man again. Hold the kiss through the transformation, and you will regain your voice.”

The idea of kissing a frog, and then basically making out with an unknown man made Lisa wrinkle her brow. But if that’s what she had to do to get her voice back, she would do it.

Lady Annabelle led Lisa to the entrance of the basement, a door in the kitchen. She opened the door, beyond which stone steps spiraled into the dark.

Taking a deep breath, Lisa walked down the steps, the stone cold against her bare feet. She trailed the wall with her right hand as she descended into the darkness.

“Ribbit.”

The sound startled her. It didn’t sound like a frog, but a human being. At the bottom of the staircase, she fumbled against the wall for the light-switch. There it was! CLICK.

A dim bulb on the ceiling flickered to life, illuminating the “frog”. Lisa gasped.

In the center of the basement, a stocky man crouched in a frog-like position, with his fists on the ground. He wore blue jeans and a green t-shirt, and looked a few years older than Lisa. He blinked at her and stuck out his tongue.

“Ribbit,” he said again.

The effect was uncanny. Lisa felt like she ought to be embarrassed in the presence of a fully clothed man, but his dumb, animalistic stare seemed wholly innocent. He really was, at least in his own mind, a frog. Lisa couldn’t decided whether this made her job easier or harder than if she’d had to kiss an actual frog. She took a step towards him.

Looking panicked, the frog hopped away, a clumsy, ridiculous movement to watch a human body make. Catching him would be no problem.

Animated by the goal of regaining her voice, Lisa stomped towards the frog and grabbed him by the shoulder. Allowing herself a brief preliminary shudder, she forced his head around and puckered up her lips. She held his dumb animal gaze for a moment before taking the plunge.

Their lips met, Lisa aggressively holding the back of the frog’s head still. Initially, the frog thrashed against her, his lips unyielding. But gradually he calmed down and leaned into it, lips softened.

Lisa released the kiss as she felt his hand on her lower back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said, stiffening and drawing her head back. “Just breaking a curse here.” Her voice sounded hoarse, but she could speak again. The witch had been telling the truth.

The man who was no longer a frog looked at her with a mix of desire and confusion. “Why are you naked?”

Lisa blushed and put an arm across her chest. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, it’s not every day a hot naked chick forces herself on me,” he said. “But it is a welcome change from frog life.”

Lisa took a step back, but not before the man managed to slide his hand down and squeeze her butt-cheek. “Eep!” she yelped.

“Hey baby, you started it,” he said, pulling himself up to from the floor. “I don’t think I’m fully cured yet. Ribbit.” He winked.

Lisa balled her hands into fists and glared daggers at the man.

“You wanna fight? I like it rough.”

WHAM! The sound of Lisa’s fist meeting the man’s cheek echoed across the basement. He staggered backwards, clutching his face in his hands. “Bitch!”

Lisa dropped into a fighting crouch, fists again readied. She felt strong, powerful, more than a match for this dweeb.

The man’s cheek was swollen and his eyes were clouded with hatred. “I swear, I’ll—”

But before he could finish his threat, his face went blank, and he dropped back down into a crouch. “Ribbit.”

Lisa turned around to see Lady Annabelle standing at the foot of the stairs. “Perhaps he hasn’t learned his lesson yet after all,” she said. “I did this to him after he ‘accidentally’ felt up Bethany. Two weeks as a frog was not long enough to give this disgusting little pervert respect for women. Perhaps another month will do it.”

The frog man sat motionless, his face blank of all expression. If he could hear the extension of his sentence, it didn’t show.

“Come, Lisa,” said Annabelle, beckoning her with a finger. “There is much you must do to learn your own lesson.”

“How much?” Lisa asked. The words tumbled out of her mouth, though she’d only meant to think them.

A cruel smile spread across Annabelle’s face. “Did you ever see the play Les Miserables?”

“No.”

“Well, near the start, Jean Valjean is arrested for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his family. He is given five years on the galleys. Every time he attempts to escape, another five years is added to his sentence. I think this is a good model to follow.”

Lisa cocked her head. “I—I don’t understand.”

“Let us must keep in mind the differing circumstances of the crimes,” Annabelle continued. “Valjean stole out of desperation. His family was hungry, they had no food. You stole out of greed. You were not naked, but had many clothes to wear. So your punishment must of course be… greater.”

Lisa’s mouth fell open.

“And you did not merely steal from my shop. You also broke into both my shop and my cabin, in attempts to steal more. Like Valjean, you have extended your own sentence.”

“H—how long was he in jail for?”

“Twenty years.”

Lisa could feel the beginnings of tears in her eyes. She pointed angrily at the frogman. “B—but that guy only got a few weeks!”

Annabelle put a hand to her chin. “That’s a good point. But I can’t have him living in my basement forever, you know.”

“S—surely you need the spare room too!” Lisa was just saying whatever came to mind now.

Annabelle’s smile softened, and she placed a handle gently under Lisa’s chin. “Oh Lisa, but you’ve been so useful! I do so enjoy having a helping hand around here.”

At this, Annabelle spread her arms wide and pulled Lisa into an embrace. The fabric of her dress was silk against Lisa’s back.

“In some ways,” she whispered in Lisa’s ear, “you’re like the daughter I never had.”

Lisa shuddered.

“But you’re right,” Annabelle continued. “Eventually, I will need the room. Even favorite daughters must eventually leave the nest.”

Hope swelled in Lisa’s chest.

“I’m sure Sydney will be more than happy to take you off my hands when the time comes,” Annabelle concluded, releasing Lisa from the hug. “He’s very good in bed, you know.” She winked.

As Lisa stood in that basement, feet rooted to the floor, perspiring, her future unfurled before her mind’s eye. She would serve in Lady Annabelle’s house, cooking and cleaning and entertaining her guests, going on shopping trips as the strange, mentally deficient daughter. Always naked, with no more than a few bangles on her body.

Then, when Annabelle tired of her, or found a new slave, she would be sold off to Sydney, the nasty, oily old man who spanked her at dinner last night. She imagined herself at the wedding ceremony, naked but for a bridal veil, Sydney slipping a ring onto her finger to claim her as his own.

And then, finally, if she survived as Sydney’s bride, she would be released, a woman of forty. She saw herself, tired, broken, worn out, and still naked, with wrinkly skin and sagging breasts. Released at last after twenty long years of naked servitude.

“It’ll have to be more than twenty years, of course,” mused Annabelle. “That’s far too short. Let’s go with twenty five. That’s a good number.”

Tears rolled down Lisa’s face.

“Come now, Lisa, or I’ll make it twenty six.” Annabelle was already ascending the staircase.

Lisa blinked out the tears and shook the visions out of her head. She could feel anger building inside her. She looked back at the frogman’s face, still badly bruised from her punch. Lady Annabelle appeared not to have noticed it. She seemed to have no idea how strong her curse had made Lisa.

There was a temptation to rush at Lady Annabelle. To hold her down and beat her. To hit her once for every year she planned to keep Lisa imprisoned. It would feel good, even better than it had felt to punch the frogman. But it would be rash.

Lisa climbed the stairs slowly, taking deep breaths in and out to calm herself. As she climbed, she forged her anger into determination. The witch could not hold her for twenty five years. Not even for twenty five days.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Lady Annabelle worked Lisa hard throughout the day. She would wake her up early in the morning and send her outside in the damp dew to tend to the plants and occasionally mow the lawn. Though she got cold and wet, she was grateful to be up too early to draw attention to herself, beyond the double-takes of a few joggers.

Then she would hose the dirt and grass off her skin and drip dry in the early morning sun. After that, she would prepare her lady’s breakfast, and then begin cleaning the house. Through the day, she would prepare lunch and dinner.

About twice a week, Lisa did the laundry. Being forbidden to use the washing machine, she washed the clothes by hand in a bucket of soapy water. Lady Annabelle would watch, sometimes, enjoying the spectacle of the naked girl washing mountains of clothing she couldn’t wear.

Another thing Annabelle liked to do with Lisa was practice magic. Each night, after dinner, she would summon Lisa into the drawing room and cast a succession of spells on her.

The spells Annabelle liked to cast followed a pattern that was becoming clearer and clearer to Lisa. One night, she was turned into a succession of animals, in the way the frogman had been. She bawked like a chicken and meowed like a cat, but no physical transformation came over her. Instead, it was like her body was possessed by the spirit of an animal, who gained control of her limbs while she looked on, powerless.

Annabelle broke the final spell just as Lisa, in dog mode, was raising her leg over the couch leg. She collapsed into a mortified, blushing heap as control returned to her body.

Another night, Annabelle experimented with tweaking the parameters of Lisa’s nudity curse. In one version, Lisa felt as though she was fully clothed, while still remaining naked. It was a strange, confusing feeling, looking down at her bare skin while she could feel fabric rub against it.

In another version, Lisa felt completely comfortable, even defiant, about her nudity. She looked on Annabelle, the boring textile, with contempt. “You should get in touch with your body more,” she said.

Annabelle snorted derisively. “Only amateurs cast skyclad.”

When that spell was undone, all the shame and embarrassment came flooding right back into Lisa’s mind. All at once, she relived the post-streak party, the campus streak, the ordeal in the art room, her nighttime chase, and her naked trip to the supermarket. She sat on the floor in a fetal position, hugging her knees.

“That one takes all the fun out of it,” said Annabelle. “We can’t have you enjoying your punishment, now can we?”

Another night, Annabelle used Lisa to channel the spirits of the dead. The women were thoroughly embarrassed, and the men were too busy feeling their new body up to be of any use.

“I didn’t figure Queen Victoria for such a prude,” said Annabelle. “But perhaps a woman who can’t wear clothes isn’t the right vessel for this.”

For a moment, Lisa hoped that Lady Annabelle would lift her curse, at least temporarily, but instead she was dismissed for the night. Relieved, if slightly disappointed, Lisa returned to her room.

After closing the door behind her, Lisa walked to her mattress and lifted up a corner. Underneath the mattress lay a wrinkled pair of plain black panties. Lisa picked up the panties and lay them down on the carpet in front of her. She then sat down, legs crossed, hands pressed together in a praying motion.

She had noticed early on that the vast majority of Lady Annabelle’s magic affected the mind. The same was true for Debra’s spells. From her nudity curse, to the trances and recall spells, to the experiments she’d been subject to while serving in this house, it had all made her think a certain way. Even the frogman had not actually been transformed into a frog, but made to think he was a frog.

The few times Lady Annabelle had cast spells that did something in physical reality, she had been exhausted. The shortest after-dinner magic session had been one in which Annabelle made her grow a monkey’s tail. After a few minutes of moving it around, it had retracted back into her spine and Lady Annabelle had retired to bed. And this was after drinking a whole jug of what Debra had called magic steroids.

The tail might have been useful, but the lesson was more useful. Lady Annabelle, for all her posturing as a powerful witch, was no good at changing things in the physical world. Her real power lay in changing things in people’s minds.

But while she could change minds, she did not control them.

Lisa opened her eyes and stood up. She stepped forward, placing her right and then her left foot inside the panties. Then she crouched down, gripped the fabric, and slowly pulled them up her legs.

The black fabric slid up her skin, all the way to her crotch, covering her slowly regrowing pubic hair. She pulled the panties up all the way and snapped the waistband into place.

Then she focused her mind on her bare stomach, and her bare breasts, and the bare skin of her thighs and ankles. She was still mostly naked. Mostly.

Lisa felt almost comfortable. If she allowed her mind to wander to the feeling of the thin fabric stretched across her ass, she grew less comfortable. So she didn’t think about it. And if she did, she reminded herself of the look on the Annabelle’s face as the tail retracted into her spine.

The powerful magic, the lasting magic really was all in her head. It needed Lisa’s mind to function. But Lisa’s mind was her own.

She was wearing panties again. It was an achievement. But she didn’t think about that. Instead, she thought about how the wind would feel on her bare stomach and against her legs when she escaped from Lady Annabelle’s captivity.

She smiled and lay down on the mattress to sleep.

* * *

When Lisa woke up early in the morning, she would quickly remove her panties and hide them under the mattress, before assuming her naked duties. There was something comical in this, getting undressed for work.

When Lisa did the laundry, or cleaned Lady Annabelle’s room, and when she thought she could get away with it, she would take a piece of clothing, bunch it up in her fist, and spirit it away to her under-mattress hiding place. She wouldn’t need much, just enough to be decent for her escape. And Lady Annabelle had an enormous array of outfits, so it was unlikely that she would miss anything.

After a few days, Lisa had a full outfit. After a few days more, she was able to wear it.

There was no more use in delaying. One night, after Lady Annabelle had used up her energy trying to shrink Lisa, she’d gone to bed early. Once Lisa was sure that she was asleep, she returned to her room, steeled her resolve, and put on her clothes.

First, the black panties. Up over the hips, on with no problem. Then, a pair of cut-off jean shorts, which were barely larger than the panties. After that, a black bra, slightly too big, clasped into place. Finally, a green crop-top, short enough to leave most of Lisa’s ribs on display. She hadn’t managed to get any shoes, but the soles of her feet were tough and hardy.

Lisa stepped out of her room and came face to face with herself in the hallway mirror. She almost cried at the sight of her clothed body. She’d never have worn anything this skimpy before her curse, but after everything she’d been through, this outfit may as well have been a spacesuit. For the first time in weeks, the girl in the mirror was a normal college student, ready to face the world.

The plan was to walk to the nearest bus-stop and catch a ride from there. Lisa had already put some coins from the witch’s coin bowl in one of the pockets of her shorts. But as she was heading for the door, she suddenly had a better idea.

The frogman in the basement stared blankly at the girl walking down the staircase. He tried to hop away as she stalked towards him, but wasn’t fast enough.

“Come along now, pal,” Lisa said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling, her other hand over his mouth. With cursed strength, she pulled him out of the basement and up the stairs. Then she pushed him in front of her, out of the house.

Standing behind him, she plunged her hands into his jean pockets and started fishing around. “Don’t get excited now, it’s not what you think. Aha!”

Triumphantly, she produced a smartphone. The wallpaper was of a Playboy model in a bikini, and the PIN code was 42069. She quickly found a rideshare app and ordered an expensive trip back to college.

“This is your way of saying sorry for groping me,” she said to the dull-eyed frogman.

A few minutes later, the car she’d called pulled up to the curb. Lisa waved at the driver and then turned back to the frogman. “Apology accepted,” she said, putting the phone back in his pocket. “Keep your hands to yourself next time.” Then she kissed him on the lips.

“Th-thank you,” he stammered, as Lisa sprung away and hopped into the waiting car.

* * *

Lisa thanked the driver and disembarked right outside her dorm building. The night air was cool against her bare stomach, as she padded with bare feet towards the entrance. She heard a couple of wolf whistles, and could only roll her eyes. It felt good to be normal again. Well, almost normal. Sweat had begun to form on her brow, and she picked up the pace.

It had been weeks since she’d last been on campus. But now, back in familiar surroundings, her mind returned to the subject of her friends. They would certainly be glad to see her again, safe and sound! And she would be glad to see them… Shelly, Claire, Colin and… Debra. Lady Annabelle had said she was safe, and, while evil, she didn’t seem to be big on telling lies.

The sights and smells of her dorm building were familiar and comforting. Lisa felt herself relaxing for what felt like the first time in weeks. A few people waved as she walked past and she waved back. Just a few stairs, and she’d be back in her dorm room with Shelly.

Lisa’s knuckled rapped on the wooden door of Room 57. She hoped Shelly was in. If not, she’d try Claire and Debra’s dorm.

The handle turned and the door opened a crack and then stopped.

“Shelly?” Lisa asked, leaning against the wood.

A manicured hand reached through the crack and shoved Lisa back violently. She stumbled into the hall, and a haughty redhead emerged from the room.

It was Bethany, or rather, Lady Annabelle, in college girl form. She was naked, but stood proud and terrifying.

“Stealing again, are we?” Bethany asked, a hand on her hip. “What a heartless bitch you are, Lisa, leaving a poor girl with nothing to wear. But that’s soon fixed.”

Jabbing a long, purple fingernail in Lisa’s face, she said, “Strip. Now.”

Bethany’s words made Lisa at once painfully aware of her outfit, and she hurriedly pulled off her top and jean shorts. A few people in the hallway stopped to stare.

“What are you looking at?” Bethany screamed at the onlookers. At once, all of them disappeared into dorm rooms and down staircases. “All of it, Lisa.”

Eyes brimming with tears, Lisa removed her bra and panties, and stood naked in the hall of her dormitory. Bethany’s face twisted into its characteristic cruel smile as she gathered the clothes up from the floor and put them on her own body.

“You may spend the night here,” Bethany said to Lisa, once she was dressed. “I will expect you back at work in the morning. Just as you are.”

Lisa could feel the anger building up inside her again. “Or else what?” she growled.

Bethany raised an eyebrow, unintimidated. “Or else I won’t lift the curses on your friends.”

“The what?”

“You heard me.”

Lisa watched as Bethany turned away and walked down the hallway. Then, remembering she was naked again, she darted into her dorm room and slammed the door behind her.

“Hey Lis,” came a weak voice.

Lisa turned to see Shelly smiling sadly at her, sitting naked on atop a pile of discarded clothes. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest. “Guess I’ve got it too now.”

To be concluded…