Spike's time at Dr. Steph's Special Hospital stretched endlessly, marked only by the slow, inexorable replacement of her neon hair by its natural brown, its progress reflected in the shatterproof mirror of her padded cell. Her life as a unwilling experimental subject threatened to become boringly routine as her memories of her days of freedom were drowned in a haze of drugs, if it weren't for Dr. Steph explaining every step of her enslavement in stark, terrifying detail.

"It's so good to see your hair growing out." the Doctor said, caressing Spike as her head sagged, eyes fluttering. "The rebellious tomboy look has no place on a proper girl like you." She rand her hands over Spike's scalp, examining her roots. "Soon, you'll have a nice full head of that lovely blonde hair I like so much." she said, giving her slave's hair a pull. Spike let out a soft, gentle moan, still recovering from the drugs administered during the morning's beauty treatments. All Spike could do in her drug-addled state was drool and halfheartedly listen to Dr. Steph talk about bikini waxes and eyebrow plucking and permanent makeup.

"The treatment is progressing well, breaking down your hair follicles, ensuring you'll never have to shave your legs again. After all, a good proper girl like you should always have lovely smooth legs. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Mmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggggh."

Dr. Steph gave her patient a pat on the head. "Good girl. The laser treatments are making good progress as well; just a few more sessions and it'll be as if those trashy tattoos never even existed."

"Mmmmmmmmnnnnnnnnnnnnnooo..." Spike said weakly, struggling softly against her straightjacket. "Mmmmmmiiinneeeeeee..."

"It's cute how you think you have a choice, dear." the Doctor said, forcing her patient's fluttering eyes to meet her gaze. "But you belong to me now." With that, she let Spike go, her limp body flopping against the padded floor. "But enough chat. It's time for your injections." she said, straddling her to keep her still. There was a small pinch. "That was Maximine, to fill out this lovely rear end of yours..." And another. "That was Demusculone, to help get rid of that unsightly muscle definition and make your thighs and chest bouncy and plump..." And another. "And that was Sublobeizone, to slow your mental recall and prepare you for the next phase." With that, she administered both a band-aid and a light spank to Spike's behind. "See you soon~"

With that, the door slammed closed behind her. Slowly, her head still wrapped in a fog that never seemed to lift, Spike sat up, her head spinning on the unfamiliar drugs and their effects. And then there was the fabled 'next phase' and whatever mystery it entailed. Spike's eyes fell to her ankle, now home to a botchy butterfly tattoo and a line of faded, illegible text. Spike stared at it, or at least in its general direction, and tried to remember where she had gotten it. Surely it had meant something to her, right? Had she gotten it with someone? For someone? Had it been part of a bet? She slumped over, eyes unfocused, and halfheartedly struggled against her restraints. Whatever part of her that was left coherent struggled to come up with a complete thought, and finally succeeded.

What was that thought, you ask? That single, solitary thought that she struggled so hard to come up with?

It was this: "There is no escape."