Nothing; I'm simply stunned.

Sometimes, you know something is inevitable. That doesn’t make it good or right, and certainly doesn’t make it easy to accept. I don’t know who the blondes are, but they don’t look like they type to carve people up.

The bald girl gives me another clue; obviously I’m meant to be some kind of ****, like her. The thought numbs me, freezes me in place. I stare at the ****, trying to unravel my future in her eyes. Should I cooperate? Should I fight? Would I be more valuable to them as a feisty captive, or a completely agreeable ****?

Would they break me, brainwash me, like some bad movie? Cold and warm, noise, strobe lights, sleep depravation, ****? They'd already done the isolation thing. Would they train me like an animal, with little rewards for learning the right tricks? How had they chosen me, who were they? By now I was certain that I had been chosen. Looking at the other’s chastity belt, sex would not be a likely purpose, would it? Was that part of the breaking process?

The whole time I was staring and thinking, that buzzing trimmer sheared away my hair, which the blonde woman collected and laid on the tray.

“Locks of Love, pet.” she said. “No point in wasting the hair just because you won’t need it anymore.” She continued her patter as she prepared a mug and brush. She was going to shave my head smooth as an egg, the old fashioned way, it seemed. “Look at number 236, isn’t she lovely? She’s close to getting her barcode; When she does, she’ll take part in training the new girls, like you. The chastity belt comes off then, too. She’ll have right of use, for training purposes. She’s the strongest and most stubborn one we’ve ever tried to train; usually the abduction teams are better at choosing their targets. She’s taken nearly three years to advance this far.”

The blonde droned on about Number 236, apparently, the woman had been a pet project, pun not intended. The blonde had enjoyed the challenge of breaking the tough strong-willed woman 236 had been; re-molding that strength into service.

“You’ve been awfully quiet. You’re not even crying.” The Blonde fretted, as she wiped her straight razor on the towel. She’d scraped my head bald without so much as a nick. “Good thing, too; it would have been a shame to nick that beautiful head of yours. Bald suits you extremely well; better even than 236, here, and she’s gorgeous bald. Are you still in shock over this? or are you the shy, introspective type? Or are you just trying to get us to lower our guard? That last isn’t going to happen. Strip off; I want to get any other hair off of you before we move on to the next part of your indoctrination, and you’ve got an appointment down the hall to get those nipples pierced, if they’re not already…”