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"I said: open your
mouth."
The girl's chin trembled
but her eyes remained fixed on the dark video monitor above her face, her lips
tightly shut. She understood now that
there was no mercy or kindness here, no thought for her welfare. These people saw her as an object, a raw
material to be twisted and shaped to suit their perverted fantasies. She was damned if she was going to just lay
there and obey, facilitating her own mutilation. Despite the tranquilizers she was filling
rapidly with terror at the thought of what they might do to force her, but she
was determined to fight!
The doctor sighed
quietly. "Trying to be
stubborn? I thought you were smarter
than that. You know, there's really no
way for you to resist effectively. In
your current condition I could easily pry your jaws open. But it's important for your training that you
decide yourself to come along with our program.
Right now, you may not think it's a good idea to open your mouth,
but there are many techniques I could employ to convince you otherwise. Do we really need to explore those
alternatives?"
He paused for a while to
let her imagination operate. In less
than a minute, dozens of gruesome images played across her brain, from horror
movies and tales of martyred saints that she'd seen depicted in church
windows. She shivered, and broke into a
sweat at the same time. The little
cramps from the soapy enema still inside her grew more frequent, but she held
her gaze fixed on the monitor, and her lips shut.
"Consider your
position carefully. If I wanted to prove
how limited your options are, I could break your will by doing nothing at
all. Just cut off the pain blockers you've
been getting intravenously since your surgeries, and believe me, in a few hours
your mouth would be wide open, screaming, begging me to do whatever I wanted to
you."
Another pause, more
shivering, more cramps. But she still
resisted. She felt she had to make a
stand, to prove that she was not "naturally submissive," as their
profile of her blandly said. The thought
occurred to her that if she proved herself a less than ideal subject, they
might let her go! Or, she realized, they
might dispose of her. It was a chance
she had to take.
"But, we have a
schedule to keep, and I don't have that much time. Nurse, drain the colonic." In a moment the horrible fluid began to rush
silently out of the girl.
Was that it? Had she won?
"As soon as she's empty
give her 1,000 CC of the punitive solution.
And prepare 250 CC of the capsicum solution in a syringe, and connect it
to the urinary catheter."
While the nurse could be
heard busying herself the doctor turned back to their subject and spoke with
mild condescension, as though his subject's display of courage was such a silly
waste of everyone's time. "Do you
understand what that means? That means
I'm getting ready to inject about half a pint of hot pepper sauce into your
bladder, and hold it in there. Can you
imagine what that will feel like?"
In her terror the girl
lost her focus for a moment, and her eyes met the doctor's. He looked so calm, so patient,
so...superior. She had to blink to break
the stare, and refocused her eyes on the monitor. Her chin quivered, but her lips stayed shut.
"Yes, go ahead,"
the doctor ordered the nurse, and cool fluid again rushed through the hard
plastic nozzle that violated the girl's anus, flooding her bowel. This time it did not stop before the point of
discomfort, but continued to rush in under pressure. She tried to tighten her abdomen to fight the
flow but it was no use. It continued
until she was painfully bloated, and even after the valve was closed the
sloshing and gurgling continued as the pressurized liquid forced its way high
into her colon. This
"punitive" solution was more concentrated than the mild
"cleansing" solution she'd taken earlier, and the cramps began
immediately. Within a minute they had
built from intermittent tugs on her guts to rapid-fire combinations of stomach
punches. She would have doubled over
with the pain, but the head-to-toe restraints held her firmly even as she
bucked against them.
"You see, the muscle
relaxants are not so effective against involuntary contractions, like those in
the intestines. Is the futility of your
situation becoming clear to you yet?"
Tears flowed again from
the corners of the girl's eyes, and she whimpered, but her lips remained
closed. Part of her, a growing part,
knew this effort was futile indeed, but the greater part still saw making a
stand here as her best, maybe last, chance for freedom. For minutes that seemed like hours, she
endured the torture dealt her by the involuntary responses of her own guts.
"Give her another 500
CC." The "doctor" could
inject the pepper solution into his subject's urinary tract, if she made it
necessary, but he didn't really want to.
There was a small chance of infection and that would put her development
behind schedule. Deep bowel irrigation,
on the other hand, was actually helpful in ensuring his subject a good recovery
from her various abdominal surgeries.
The anal valve opened again and more sterile soapy water flowed into the
restrained girl. Besides the barrage of
heavyweight gut-punches there was a continual pain now, from the stretching and
from the lactic acid that had built up in her muscles during the extended
period of brutal cramping. The
medications dulled it somewhat, but in combination with her other pains she was
suffering terribly.
"That's one and a
half liters now." The doctor spoke
coolly, patiently. "The tank this
system draws from holds fifty liters. A
little while ago you seemed upset that we'd sterilized you. Well, if you insist on continuing this
ridiculous tantrum, we can easily make you look like you're carrying
triplets." Unlike the capsicum,
this threat was empty. The girl's bowel
was already holding nearly the maximum volume the doctor considered safe, given
her recent surgeries. But as she writhed
against the bands his experienced eyes could detect, in the softening of her
expression and the growing sluggishness of her efforts, that she was breaking.
He allowed her to be
punished by her own body for a few minutes longer, until he judged the moment
right. "Really, my girl, time does
have value. Shall I give you another
half liter? Or perhaps it's time for the
pepper?" A pause. "Nurse...."
"leeeeuhh!" A
slurred, tired squeak came from the drugged lips of the pretty, auburn-haired
girl bound to the table.
"Just a moment,
Twelve. What was that again?"
"pleeeth. thtop."
"Are you ready to
behave sensibly?"
She didn't want to say
it. She tried to just nod, but the head
restraint prevented her.
"Well?"
"Yethh."
"Are you going to
open your mouth wide and hold it open while I do the work that has been ordered
for you?"
A pause, and another
battering of cramps, like lead pipes beating on her tummy. "Yethh."
The weeping girl looked
into the doctor's eyes. She looked for
evil, for a glint of sadistic delight taken in the suffering he'd inflicted on
her. All she saw was calm, and
confidence, and complete control.
Control over himself, over the nurse, over her, over her entire world. Which at this moment was a bright white room
about 16 feet square.
----
"Drain it, nurse, but
keep your finger on the plunger of the capsicum syringe in case she changes her
mind." It hadn't taken long for the
doctor to break this display of resistance, but the girl had been considerably
weakened before he'd begun - by the surgeries, the drugs, the disorientation
that was typical at the start of the development process. Many of the subjects he'd worked with had not
resisted at all when in such a state. He
would monitor this one's training carefully as her development progressed.
The remote-controlled
valve was opened and the punishing fluid gushed out of the captive's bowel,
through a tube that ran under the table and into the floor. Even as it flowed, the doctor rolled his
stool next to her head and began manipulating the strange shiny brackets that
rose at either side of her headrest, then bent inwards toward the corners of
her mouth. He looked into his subject's
wet brown eyes and at a raise of his brows she parted her lips.
"Wider," he
commanded, and slowly she gaped, while her eyes rolled toward the wall behind
her pinned head to avoid seeing what new horrors were in store for her. She felt his latex-clad fingers in her mouth
and thought again to bite. But fear kept
her jaw propped wide, and she lay there in horror, and shame at her cowardice,
as he swung the cool steel arms into her mouth.
First from one side, then the other.
He began adjusting the many knobs that studded the devices. She felt smooth curved metal pressing against
either side of her palate, pushing her head back against the restraining
headrest and strap.
The doctor seemed to reach
through the table to adjust the headrest, dropping it slightly to tilt her head
a bit further back. She realized that
instead of being mounted to the surface of the table as she'd visualized, the
headrest projected out from it on an adjustable arm, fixing her head in
position while it hung over the table's edge.
Next, she felt more metal fingers groping beneath her tongue, behind her
lower front teeth. A firmly padded,
rigid cup was fitted over her chin, then bolted to the system. As the attachment was tightened, her jaw was
clamped firmly to the lower arms of the strange apparatus.
"First, some
measurements." The nurse made a
quiet rustle of preparations while the doctor rolled his stool into position
above his subject's head, so that he appeared upside down from her point of
view and could see straight down her throat.
He began turning a knob that forced her wider. The pressure grew but he continued on at a
steady pace until she feared her jaw would be dislocated.
"aaahh!"
"Don't worry, I have
a torque indicator here, this isn't going to injure you." He stopped turning the knob just before the
girl was sure her head was going to be split in half, then busied himself for a
while applying various calipers and rulers to the inside of her mouth. Twice she gagged when his instrument invaded
the top of her vulnerable throat, but each time he removed it quickly, having
obtained the needed measurement. Now and
then he would turn to jot notes on her chart.
Her jaw muscles began to cramp badly, and she wished she could wiggle
her lifeless fingers, or her poor splinted toes, just to take her mind off her
tortured mouth. But she was held utterly
fast.
She thought her jaw was about
to break itself against the unyielding spreader when the doctor finally
loosened the knob a few turns, reducing the pressure to a tolerable level. His hand reached toward the cart and returned
with a large, broad-bladed foreceps.
"Your tongue, please."
She hesitated, but his
pleasantly commanding tone disarmed her.
And her tummy was still terribly sore from its battle with the cruel
enema. She lifted her tongue away from
the bottom of her mouth. He reached in
with the foreceps and grabbed it quickly, but not ungently, and adjusted his
grip slightly to center her tongue properly between the tool's curved
blades. Then he squeezed a bit harder
and drew her tongue out of her mouth until her eyes bulged. Tiny blunt teeth on the inner surfaces of the
foreceps held the slippery flesh securely.
The doctor used a small metal ruler to measure the width of her tongue
in three places, and its extended length from the back of her teeth to the tip.
Next, still holding her
tongue extended, he set the ruler down and picked up an unusual pair of chrome
pliers. A small hollow cylinder
projected from the inner side of one jaw; a corresponding hole waited in the
opposite jaw.The frightening nurse moved into the girl's view beside the
doctor, distracting her for a moment.
Quickly, the doctor double-checked that the tongue remained properly
positioned within the forecep's grasp, then aligned the post on the plier's jaw
with a set of holes in the foreceps' blades.
The tool was surgically sharp and with a quick squeeze, and a squeak of
pain, the girl gained a 5mm piercing not far from the tip of her tongue.
The nurse moved quickly to
blot the wound with a foul-tasting unguent while the doctor continued to hold
the tongue extended, and their subject quietly wimpered. She regretted bitterly her surrender to the
enema, and the sense of resignation she had felt minutes before was turning
back again to horror and denial.
Setting down the piercing
tool the doctor picked up a similar-looking device, and when the nurse had swabbed
the area thoroughly he positioned it over the same hole and squeezed. The newly-pierced girl flinched but this time
there was no pain, only a strange pressure that remained even after he had set
the tool back on the cart.
"There, your first
piercing and grommet. That wasn't so
bad, was it?" He stretched her
tongue out and then down, over her lower lip and toward her chin, where his
other hand made a quick hidden adjustment before he released the foreceps'
grasp. The girl moaned with relief that
her abused tongue had been freed, but found she could not draw it back into her
mouth. When she tried there was an
insistent tugging at the piercing. It
took her a few moments of careful testing to figure out that her tongue had
been impaled, through its new perforation, on a curved stud that projected from
her chin-cup. It was kept from lifting
off the stud by a small bar - the harder she tried to pull her tongue in, the
tighter the bar clamped aross it. Her
pierced tongue was held securely, fully extended and nearly touching the point
of her chin, like a belt in a buckle.
"Aaaaaaeeeeeeiiiiiiiiuhhhh!" This small but shocking addition to her
restraints was suddenly too much for the helpless girl. High-pitched, unintelligible whines erupted
from her propped-open mouth, and she bucked in her restraints.
The doctor recognized in
his subject a primal panic that he couldn't reason with, but didn't have time
to wait out. "Nurse, give her the
next course of tranqs now. She's almost
due anyway. But make a note that's the
last course unless I order otherwise.
She needs to be alert soon, to begin her proper training." The rubber-clad attendant silently injected
the contents of a syringe into a port in the subject's IV tube, and in a minute
or two the noise and struggling subsided.
Finally the bound victim lay still, moaning softly, flushed all over her
body and covered in a sheen of sweat.
"Twelve, dry her and
drape her for a few minutes, she's losing a lot of body heat." While the nurse briskly toweled the
restrained subject, the doctor stood over her face. "You've got to control yourself now, we
have delicate work to do here. You don't
want me to disfigure you in some unplanned way, do you?"
After drying her, the
nurse draped her attendee with a light blanket that covered her from
collarbones to knee. By the time she was
done the girl was breathing easily again, and the doctor returned to his stool
and resumed giving orders."The botox now, Twelve. I'll need the number 8s right now and you
might as well start getting the 20s ready, too.
Oh, ready already? Good, I see
you're not completely incompetent."
He moved back to the cart and with the nurse made another clattering of
instruments. When he rolled back to the
position above his subject's head, he was wearing a headlamp on his forehead,
and holding a stainless steel syringe tipped with a very long needle, which
looked positively enormous when held inches before the girl's upturned face. The needle glistened in the light of his
headlamp.
"Feeling more
relaxed? Good. I know you'd like to rest but we have a way
yet to go." He glanced at the
syringe. "This is botox. You've probably heard of it as a treatment
for wrinkles. What a lot of people - even
some of those who get those treatments - don't realize is that the name is
short for botulism toxin. It's a
powerful nerve poison, and works to eliminate wrinkles by paralyzing the
muscles that pull on the skin. We use it
here for that purpose, in renovating pleasure companions who are showing signs
of age, but we've also found many other applications for it."
The helpless girl's brown
eyes widened as he lowered the needle past her stretched tongue, past her
wide-spread lips, and deep into her mouth.
"Don't worry, this
only hurts for moments...."
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