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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

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Will I be next? - Part 2

Your roommate said you had a heart seizure and they needed to keep you for observation. Or are they keeping you for the Breeders Program?

You came to slowly. First, you heard voices, distant and muffled, as if you were submerged in a fish tank. You couldn't understand what they were saying except some words. “... excellent ... healthy ovaries ... keep warded ... prime for harvest... “

You opened your eyes but it was too bright and you shut them instinctively. You were hit by a wave of nausea and you kept your eyes closed, willing the spinning to stop.

“She's coming around.” You heard your roommate say.

You felt your legs being manipulated from the stirrups back to the bed, and secured. You tried to move but your hands were tied, and your legs too. You struggled but the restraints were tight.

Your brain fog started to clear. You opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was the clear oxygen mask blocking your view. Then you saw the other people in scrubs. And the reality hit you that you were no longer alone with your roommate “just having fun"! Have you been implanted with a baby in your tummy as a surrogate mother!? You panicked.

You started struggling weakly and managed to only shake your head in protest. “No, please no... let me go...,” you said, but it came out weak, like a moan.

“Shhhh.... calm down...,” said your roommate as she cupped your face to stop your excitement.

“You had a heart seizure while you were under. The team here managed to resuscitate you. Don't worry, we will take good care of you,” she said.

You tried to comprehend and looked around. The people in scrubs around you looked at you reassuringly. To your relief, you noted that you are still in the preparatory room and not the operating room. One of them passed a knowing look to another. You followed her gaze and saw another nurse starting to inject a drug into your IV line.

“Relax now,” your roommate said. “You will need to rest.”

Your world started spinning again and this time it did not stop. You closed your eyes and felt like you were sinking through the gurney. You tried to hold on to something to stop falling.

"Send her back to her ward for observation.” You heard someone said and you felt the gurney moving, adding to your giddiness.

With the flashing by of the overhead lights in the corridor, your world became a blur as you slowly drifted into darkness.

-----

You regained consciousness to the beeping sounds of the monitors around. You were in the room that your roommate first brought you to when you came to the ward. Your wrists were bound to the railings of the bed and a strap ran across your hips. You were hooked up to the monitors with electro pads and a blood pressure cuff. The infrared on the oximeter clipped to your finger tip blinked regularly. You had a clear oxygen mask that was misting over and you were hooked up to an IV line.

You wondered what all this meant. Did you really have a heart seizure? Or did they implant an embryo in you? But you were not in the room with the other pregnant surrogates. At least not yet. You shifted your legs against each other and it did feel sticky down there, though you couldn't be sure if it wasn't your own juice. You also realised you had a catheter in you. You wondered why. Your thoughts were interrupted by your roommate entering the room with a trolley.

“Good morning! How are you feeling today?”

“What happened last night? Am I.... have I been... erm... implanted?”

“Oh no! We only take volunteers!” She laughed.

She explained that you had a heart seizure while both of you were fooling around. You probably had a bad reaction to the gas cocktail. Fortunately the medical team was at hand and was able to resuscitate you. She said it nearly got her fired!

Doctors ran a few tests but haven't nailed down the diagnosis although it was likely to be congenital heart problems leading to a congestive heart failure. She said that the doctor had asked for you to be kept under close monitoring for a bit and would be running some tests to determine further actions.

You were relieved, and somewhat disappointed at the same time. The memory of the tour sent tingles down your spine as you imagined once again yourself strapped to the operating table. When you tried to touch yourself, your were reminded that your wrists were held by restraints.

“Why am I bound?” You asked.

“Doctor's order. Some patients can become agitated and hurt themselves when they go into seizure. So it is to keep you safe and in case you go wondering on your own. You need total bed rest, so no walking around for you. I am here to give you a good clean.”

While you were trying to digest what she was saying, she pulled the privacy curtain around the bed. She put on a pair of surgical gloves and started removing your gown carefully while trying not to disturb the electrodes on your body and the IV on the back of your hand. Then she proceeded to wipe you down starting with your face. She was slow and gentle. She was so close to you that you could smell her freshly laundered scrubs. She worked down your back and then started from neck down the front. She paid particular attention around your breasts and she noted that your nipples were erect.

“Are you thinking of last night?” She asked. “Are you considering volunteering?”

You were too embarrassed to acknowledge that playing the helpless, vulnerable patient turned you on. You could feel wetness between you thighs. But you were not ready to spend your life sedated, lying on a bed, with an swollen belly as a surrogate.

“Erm... no...”

“Not yet.” She said with a knowing smile.

She pulled down your mask below your neck and started kissing you. It was too much for the both of you. Then things got out of hand thereafter as the beeping in the room started racing. You fought against the restraints. She teased and rubbed you down there with her gloved fingers, going deeper and faster as they became wetter and smoother. Before long, you succumbed to her skillful administrations and you came and came.

You collapsed back onto the bed as the beeping went into over drive. You wondered if this “bed rest” was well advised. In your post orgasmic bliss, she tightened your restraints. She gave you a couple of injections “to help you rest", and you wanted to ask why but your eyelids immediately felt heavy as the room started to spin. You drifted off as she was leaving the room with her trolley.

------

You lost track of time. You would wake up momentarily only to be put back to sleep again. You had no coherent memories except dream-like recollections...

------

You were back in the fish tank, floating. You had impressions of people around you. Someone was removing the electrodes from your body, releasing your restraints. There were voices but you couldn’t understand except for a few words.

"Room 1... ovary scan... eggs retrieval..."

You were transferred to a gurney and back in the corridor of flashing overhead lights. You tried to ask what's happening but you tongue felt thick and non responsive.

“She's awake,” someone said.

“It's ok. We can sedate her in the room.”

You tried to sit up but a hand pressed your shoulder back on the gurney. You were too weak to resist.

“You will be fine. Doctor ordered a couple of quick scans.”

You soon reached a dimly lit room and the nurses transfered you to a gynaecologist exam chair. Your legs were positioned in the stirrups. The nurses were going to strap your arms down but you refused and asked to be released. You started to protest more forcefully but it was futile.

A mask was pressed against your face. You panicked as the gas turned sweet and strong. You fought it but you were helpless.

“Yes, relax. That's it... breathe.... relax...”

You started floating and finding it hard to focus. Things were moving fast like in a dream. Intelligible voices and unrecognisable faces behind masks. You fought for as long as you could but of course, you lost...

------

You found yourself naked and bound to the table. The room started to look like an operating suite. The light shining between your wide-spread legs. Gloved fingers ran in and out of your gapping hole, coating you with a thick lubricant, teasing you. Then spreading you open, the duck-billed speculum was inserted. You moaned aloud.

You took a deep breath, sucking in the gas, and your eyes lost focus. You shivered in pleasure. The surgeon saw your needy whimpers and granted you your wish by rubbing your clit.

You struggled against the restraints holding your feet to the stirrups, arched your back and trusted your head back. You saw the smiling eyes of your roommate and you came and came. You jerked helplessly as your roommate held your head against her soft tummy and the mask tightly against your face. You were breathing spasmodically and your eyes rolled behind your head before you passed out....

------

You woke up to your roommate cleaning you again. You asked what happened yesterday. And she asked what happened? You told her that you were sent to the operating room for scans. She assured you nothing like that happened. She said it must be your imagination. You were not so sure. Could it be just a dream?

The thought of you being strapped down and put to sleep turned you on and it showed in your erect nipples. They were sore. You self-consciously thought that you smelled of sex. It did feel like you had too much sex down there and had occasional abdominal cramps. She joked that you were probably dreaming about your fantasy. But you could tell she was lying.

You asked when you could leave. She said another week. She said you would be scheduled for an angiography scan and if nothing is wrong, you could go home. You wondered why it took so long and she said the doctor's schedule was full. When you asked why you were bound and kept sedated, she started sounding a bit uncomfortable and said it was for your safety. She started preparing the injections as you began to protest.

“You are almost ready. This will speed things up a bit,” she said as she gave you a couple of injections.

“What do you mean ‘ready’?” You demanded.

“Your darkest fantasy,” she said as she gave you a third injection.

“No.....” you managed as your world started spinning into darkness....

------

“Wakey wakey, this is your big day!" You heard as your roommate slapped you lightly on your face. You opened your eyes and there was another nurse in the room with a gurney.

“Hope you slept well. We are ready for your ‘angiogram’ this morning,” said your roommate as she untied the restraints.

You thought the way she said angiogram sounded like they were in inverted commas. Before you could ask, you were transferred to the gurney and strapped in. You were back in the familiar corridor.

You were brought back to the preparatory room and transferred to the awaiting gurney with stirrups set up. You started getting wet unconsciously as you imagined that you were going to get impregnated instead of an angiogram.

As if reading your mind, your roommate started lifting your legs into the stirrups and binding your calves and thighs.

“Oh.... you are getting excited!” She said when she saw your glistening wetness.

You were going to protest but the other nurse came back with a lathering foam.

“It's more common than you think. We see lots of excited patients before their procedures. Especially when we tell them we are going to shave them,” said the other nurse as she winked at you and showed you the shaving foam.

You wondered why they needed to shave you and you protested momentarily but was cut short when the foam was lathered all over your groin and you shuddered. You wished you could finger yourself if not for the restraints on your wrists.

You almost moaned aloud when the blade scrapped your public hair. As the nurse was carefully working, your roommate saw your arched back and curled toes. She wasted no time and began caressing your erect nipples between her gloved fingers while the nurse would finger you down there to keep you on your edge. They were driving you nuts as you writhed with ragged breaths from the double assault. But they just kept you on the edge, never quite allowing you to come.

When it was finally done, the nurse cleaned you up and ran her hand over the smoothness of your hairless mount.

"Time to go."

You felt so naked and vulnerable. You were terribly horny and the apprehension of what was coming kept you on the edge.

You were transferred back to the gurney and wheeled into the operating suite. There was a hive of activity and you were immediately welcomed by the scrubbing nurses.

You were moved next to the operating table and many hands grabbed you to transfer you over. They started spreading and strapping in your legs to the stirrups and arms to the side board.

Your heart skipped a beat when the reality dawned on you that you were in the same situation as the “volunteer” whose impregnation you witnessed. Notwithstanding your arousal, your rational mind wanted this to stop.

You tried to sit up but someone held you down on your shoulders. The anesthesiologist held you chin you to face her as she cupped a mask to your face. “Relax,” she said. “The drug will help you relax,” as she pumped the breathing bag and you detected a sweet pungent gas. Almost immediately, you started to feel like you were floating. Voices became distant and you became less worried.

Someone checked your ID bracelet and said, “Patient 124.”

She was addressing the doctor who was gowning herself. And when the doctor came over to peruse you, you realised it was the same doctor who impregnated the last volunteer, not a cardiologist. It became clear that they were going to impregnate you!

Your roommate read off her clipboard. “Patient 147. Warded three weeks ago. Healthy ovaries. Primed with FSH and LH for 10 days. Egg retrieval done 7 days ago after HCG induction and fertilised in-vitro with samples from Client 1026 on same say. 5 embryos growing healthily, ready to be implanted. 2 for today and another 3 for freezing.”

Did she say three weeks!? You thought it was three days!

“No negative reaction to long term sedation. Positive responses to sexual stimulation and achieved multiple orgasms during internment. Patient is at peak of fertility cycle and properly stimulated during prep.”

“So this is the roommate? Hmm... interesting,” said the doctor as she donned on the latex gloves and positioned herself between your legs.

Then you felt her run her finger on your dripping slit and glided smoothly up and down your perineum to your ass and back. It was obvious you were dripping wet!

“Look how aroused she is! She will make an excellent and productive surrogate to our Breeders Program!”

“No, please, don't. I did not volunteer. I want to go home!” You begged and struggled meekly against the restraints and trying to shake the mask off your face.

But being bound, strapped into stirrups, totally helpless with a gas mask waiting to be implanted with embryos against your will was your darkest fantasy! Your bottom started to twitch needily.

The doctor inserted two fingers your sloppy slit and her thumb into your virgin ass. It drew a loud grunt between pain and pleasure from you.

You struggled harder as she started to pump you both ways. You could feel her pinching the thin wall between the two channels, driving you into a crazed frenzy. You started humping your hips despite yourself as you lost your rational mind.

You looked pleadingly at you roommate for release, not clear if it was from your current predicament or from the mounting sexual tension.

You could feel the doctor's finger digging deep inside you.

“She's so ready. I can feel her gaping cervix. Bring the embryos,” said the doctor.

You see a nurse brought in a petri dish. It’s for real! You are going to be impregnated! That final realisation tipped you over the edge as you experience a tsunami of orgasms.

You detected a change in the gas concentration as the anesthesiologist started pumping the breathing bag and the smell became much stronger. You panicked but you were too exhausted to fight. Your head flopped to the side as your world started spinning.

In the final moments of your ecstasy, you lived your darkest fantasy. Your looked into the eyes of the anesthesiologist as you were enveloped in the darkness of unconsciousness.

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

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I am sitting in the waiting room of the ER. I have symptoms who will looks like a appendix inflammation. My Doctor had given me some pain meds befor he brought me to hospital.

Next step i was brought to a exam room where the diagnosis gets confirmed! A Gurney was brought in it looks like an Ambulance stretcher. Now I have to turn on a diaper and a patient gown. Then i was wheeled to another room! This room was lined with cabinets filled with medical supplies and a small sink. It was the pre surgery room where patients were anaesthesised. In the middle of the room was a bed with straps and cuffs dangling at the Side. Now the scrubbing nurses were just transferring me over to the bed. After I had to answer some questions. The last one was Are you Organdonor? After a Yes they start to speed up.

Now they strapped me down to the bed! I ask why you restrain me? They answer Organdonor need to be restrained in case they’re not agree with us! We will now anesthesise you! After we remove your organs if you are ready to donate them. Sorry that we cut ur life short but we have no choice! I start getting nervouse and try to fight the restrains! They ask me: Why you fight the restrains do you not want to be a Hero and Organdonor? I answer: I don’t want die. Today I am here for a appendix surgery why you not only do that surgery? Doctor: No we have to harvest you the war and the pandemia has produced a big leak of organs! Unfortunately its your last day here on earth! But if you not want to die we accept that. Okay let us save your life and we let you survive but now hold still and take deep breaths that we can start! I only know I don’t trust this doctor but I try to accept my fate! I shook my head from side to side and pleaded no but it was unconvincing. Somehow, The femal Anesthesia nurse seemed to know this was typical for patients like me. I struggled against the restraints and realised that they were secure and tight. She cupped my face and her piercing eyes above her mask made me stomach churn with a deep fear laced. Why my situation is worse and I am caught in something I don’t want i start crying and beeging!

When she finally held the mask over my face, I took a deep breath to smell the rubber and let the vacuum hold the mask tight to my face. The delicious gas flowed and I let it fill my lungs. I fought against the restraints but my limbs were held firmly in place. My struggles only made me breathe harder. My world started to spin and I realised how vulnerable I am. They had me now and there was no escape. The thought of me being harvested brought me over the edge. I came at that thought and thrashed against the restraints. The anaesthesia mask was held tightly and I was told to breathe deeply. I frowned and my head shook feebly. Was it the anaesthetist or me? But I know my protests are to weak. I struggled against the restraints momentarily but soon, in the throes of panic, my world lost its edges as I slowly went under. I know once i am under the breathing tube will never leave my troath again!

Some minutes later hospitalpatient67 lost his fight against anesthesia! Now we are ready to intubate him! If no more complications happen he is unaware bliss- and peacefully unaware in his eternal sleep!!

This is my final post i will close my account definitely if somebody loves some stories please reblog!!!

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

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The fugitive.

Corina is 26 years old. She feels lonely and has suicidal thoughts. So one day she dialled the number of the telephone counselling service. But her call will never reach the telephone counselling service. The call is intercepted and ends up at a shady counselling centre at the Minidonka Medical Centre.

The experienced telephone agent gives her instructions to fake suicide by overdose and promises Corina a new life with a new identity. But she agrees! When the MMCI paramedics arrive 20 minutes later, Corina bravely plays the tablet overdose patient. But when an intravenous line was put in, she got cold feet! She became afraid of her new life and took her chance, punching the paramedic in the face, sitting up and running away. The second paramedic was so shocked by the turn of events that he forgot to call for backup. The paramedics immediately reported the assault to headquarters. As the access needle had already been inserted, there was no escape for Corina. The access needle had a small locating transmitter which was activated by blood contact and sent signals for 5 hours! Corina fled to her friend Simone. Fortunately, Corina and her friend live alone and the parents and relatives who could have searched for them were dead. It just so happens that Corina's emergency contact is Simone. This is what the background checks of our Abduction Medical Service Team (AMST) found out. Unfortunately, in order to capture our patient, Simone's friend must now also be abducted. This makes things more difficult. Our observation team now monitors both women at every turn! After 24 hours Simone's car is sabotaged. One day, after the two girls have driven down the Musterstreet, they have an accident. Our rescue team rescues the two women and brings them to the MMC, which is located in Musterstreet.

On arrival at the MMC, Simone is immediately anaesthetised and killed with a lethal injection.

Corina is then declared dead and the body of another patient is placed in the coffin. Corina is now taken to the secret intensive care unit of the MMC where she is now being prepared to become a test subject for long-term studies.

Our specialists start working immediately!

When Corina wakes up, she is told that she and her friend had a car accident and that her friend died. The doctors also tell Corina that she will never leave this intensive care unit again. After this conversation Corina freaks out! She trys start crying and calling for help. When this does not help, Corina tries to attack our team. We immediately put her in an artificial coma.

In the following operation, Corina is first tracheotomised. Then a diaphragmectomy, hysterectomy, gastro- and an ileostomy are performed. Now she fulfils the basic requirements to stay in our ICU!

Picture sources:

Picture 1 -3:German TV series “Falkenberg - Mord im Internat?”, season 1, episode 6

Picture 4: US TV series “American Crime”, season 1, episode 4.

Thanks to my co-autor @invasiveventilation

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

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Shaved and Snipped - Her Big Operation

By ladybalddreamz

I had met my girlfriend a year before my journey began, she was tall and slim and had black hair to her shoulders and like me shaved her cunt bald. She was dominant and I loved it, she was a doctor who owned a private clinic and loved to 'treat' me, we had discussed ultimate fantasies for a while and then she decided it was time we would live it out. I was so excited it made my 'problem' worse, my clitoris was swollen all the time and needed constant attention. I had been diagnosed with a mild to moderate form of constant arousal syndrome and she was aware of this. We had discussed ways to 'alleviate' this problem of my troublesome clit, she told me the clitoris was a wonderful organ but when things went wrong it was capable of causing a lot of trouble, so I needed surgery. Of course I was willing! She asked me to be ready for an 'exam' and I was to be naked on the bed, with 'down below' shaved smooth and my legs open so the first things she saw when she came through the door was shaven cunt. I was ready and excited, she came in and I was on my back, my gash all swollen and pink, my clit aching and red and sticking right out.

"How are we today?"

She was wearing her white coat.

"I got pain in my cunny again."

"Let me see."

She spread me wide.

"Are you still getting painful constant arousal?

"Yes, all the time, I hate it!"

"You have a swollen clitoris. It is terribly swollen, it indicates you have an illness that I must treat. You need orgasm and then some desensitisation treatment to stop your inconvenient feelings of constant arousal."

She wheeled a trolley next to the bed and I gave a groan of alarm as I saw the array of instruments - this was new to me, there were medical clamps and scalpels and a suture kit, cutting equipment and things I did not even recognise. Then to my alarm her nurse came into the room. She looked between my legs at my naked groin and then smiled at me as she put on a surgical mask.

My doctor patted my arm as she lifted a hypodermic needle.

"You are going to have an operation, my love. A real one, a drastic one. I sent the results of you examination to a colleague of mine and they were able to confirm that your clitoris is over sensitive, that it will continue to swell and ultimately become irrevocably infected without intervention."

"What kind of intervention?"

By now I was scared, the nurse was strapping my ankles securely into stirrups and taping my wrists to my sides. My lover was now my Doctor and taking charge of the situation, this was not a game and her expression was grave.

"The pain you have been getting in your clitoris is indicative of the most serous form of clitoriditis I have ever seen. I gave you an enema this morning was part of your prep, it was not play. I did not want to tell you the bad news until it was time to take you to theatre."

I wanted to panic but the injection made me drowsy. I was not so drowsy that I was unaware, and I could still move, but ll the fear was gone. I understood I had to have an operation on my cunny and my lover was going to perform it.

The nurse was helping her with her gown and gloves. I watched as they both donned surgical garb. My legs were relaxing in the stirrups and I gave a tiny whimper as the nurse slid in a catheter, but as the amber liquid flowed from my bladder a sense of peace came over me - I was in their hands now and I had to have surgery on the most sensitive part of my body. My lover had remarked the first time she had licked me that my clit had seemed 'rather large and red' but now I understood why she had insisted on all the private examinations when the clinic was shut, why she had made notes on all the clitoral pain I had experienced. She had guessed I had a condition. She knew I needed an operation and she was the best person to do it. My ankles were released from the stirrups and my legs were placed closed, although there was a gap now the tube protruded from my labia. I was covered with a small sheet and then wheeled down the corridor. The clinic was empty but all the lights were on and as I watched my lover wheeling me she looked down.

"It will be alright."She promised me, "You have to be a brave girl."

To my shame my fetish was taking over and I felt wetness sliding out of me, even making my catheter rub in a pleasant way.

This all changed when we entered the operating theatre. I was placed on the tale under the bright lights, an IV was put in my arm and my legs were opened, the table positioned and once again I was in stirrups, this time with my knees bent high and wide apart and the heat from the light beating down on that painful red organ that was swollen up despite everything. My lover looked at me sadly.

"You condition has been linked to abnormal brain patterns as well as hormones, for that reason I have to attach some monitor wires to your scalp for the duration of your treatment so these can be studied later for abnormalities. For this reason, I have to shave your head clean.I am so sorry."

"No!" I shouted, but the nurse who had stood behind me simply lifted my ponytail and sliced through it. I started to cry as she switched on a small white hand held shaver and switched it on. She placed the blades at the front of my head and shaved a strip, leaving the centre of my head with a bald stripe. Then she did it again, and again, shaving me bit by bit, as each tress fell away, she lifted it free and dropped it into a bag marked 'medical waste'. The nurse continued to shave me despite my sobs. She paused to use a cool hand to briefly brush the tears from my face.

She looked at the doctor as she held up my ponytail.

"Is this for disposal?"

"No, keep it, she might want it after the op." my lover replied, "So she can remember her hair."

They were talking over me as if I was barely there. Then my lover looked down at me."Please, nooooo..."I begged weakly but she just spoke softly to me.

"I have had to make the decision for you to submit you to clitoral surgery and neurological monitoring. Your condition means you must have this operation and lose your hair as part of the treatment. You will have the best care, my love."

The nurse seemed fascinated as she picked up the pack of ready to use wax strips.

"ShallI do the scalp wax now doctor?"

"Yes, at once." My lover replied.

The nurse began to keenly press the strips down and then pull them off, a press and rip sensation that hurt but as my head was waxed it was the loss of my hair that made me cry mostly. My lover watched, still looking at me with compassion. When the nurse had thrown away the last of the wax along with the last trace of my hair she took a cool cloth and wiped over my head.The cloth glided over and she paused again to wipe off my tears. Then she took the top off strong smelling glue. My Doctor had taken a marker pen and was dotting positions on my hairless head.

"Be careful with that, nurse - it bonds in seconds."

My lover lifted up a dish containing small silver discs. There were about a dozen of them.

She spoke t me slowly and clearly in case I was drowsy from the tranquilizer injection.

"These discs will stay bonded to your bare head for a month after your operation, they will fall off after that, they are to transmit your brainwaves to a remote unit. Your head has been waxed so you have no regrowth for at least two months, my love."

I was past crying now.My hair was gone and that was it. I knew I was facing genital surgery of a serious nature and I lay there, looking up while the doctor and the nurse prepared the instruments and talked over me.

The nurse looked down between my legs.

"It's a shame, your girlfriends got a lovely pussy."

"Yes but see how engorged the clitoris is?"

My lips were splayed open sharply.

The nurse peered down."Looks like its going to burst! It should not be that purplish colour around the hood, either. She must have found orgasm very painful."

"She did."

My lover parted my buttocks and invited the nurse to share the inspection.

"The rectum is shockingly tight, too. She's bled after passing motions several times. I gave her a rectal as part of our bedroom play and I knew she had a lot of problems in the area - its all linked and it all needs surgery. We she wakes up, after the pain is gone, she will feel like a new woman."

"How will she cope with her new look down there? And what about her hair? It might never recover enough for the roots to grow back."

My lover leaned down and smiled at me kindly.

"I shall still love you the same."She told me, "Hair or no hair!"

I blinked, tried to speak but my Doctor was gluing cold metal sensors to my smooth head and they felt chilly and the glue stung, then tightened as metal set against my newly exposed flesh. The nurse took up a hypodermic. She hovered between my legs, her other hand holding my labia open.

"Do we need to restrain her any further, Doctor?"

"No."my doctor replied, "She is well tied by the restraints."

The she leaned over me.

"I am going to give you an orgasm, my love, I know the nurse is present and you are in pain but please try not to feel ashamed, it is important we record your brainwaves during pre-operative orgasm."

My doctor and lover stood between my spread legs. She glanced at the nurse.

"Keep watching the monitor and make sure brainwaves are recorded. This won't take long, that poor clitoris of hers is about to burst!"

Doctor lowered her mask then dipped her head between my legs. She hovered above my shaven pubis for a moment, taking a last look before surgery.

"I'm going to lick that juicy cunny of yours." She told me.

Then she kissed my pubic mound, before spreading me wide and taking a long, tender lick. The sensation of her tongue on my swollen rosebud seemed to grate and I gave a moan of pain. But pleasure throbbed also and she sucked on the reddening organ, licking sucking, pressing down as her tongue worked hard.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh ahhhh aaa mmmmmmmm..mmm aaah!"

I was twitching and groaning, my voice echoing around the operating theatre. The nurse was studying the spikes on the monitor, which she began to print off.

My lover watched as my cunny twitched for the last time, then she wiped me clean, something that made me whine as the cloth scraped my clitoris, the organ was still huge and refusing to calm down. She took a brush and began to paint my groin with iodine, every stroke tickled despite the pain and as she glanced at me I managed a smile.

"That’s it, good girl." She said.

Then she opened me wide and the brush soaked in bright iodine found its way into every crack and crevice - I groaned as she pained first my clitoral hood and then under it, before the brush went lower still and stung my inner flesh. She gave the brush a good soak in the iodine and painted around my rectum, then stuck the brush inside and twirled it for good measure.

Then she looked at me.

"Are you still aware, my daring? Nod your head for Yes."

I nodded.

She lifted a pair of what looked like dainty silver tongs.

"Nurse, I want you to watch this." She said aloud, "This is known as clitoral stretching and desensitisation. Its important pre surgery , just to ensure the blood does not become too engorged."

She held up the tongs and showed me.

"Take a deep breath."

The tongs went between my legs, she positioned them slowly and carefully, then snapped them shut brutally. They locked with a click and my clitoris was trapped. She began to tug and pull on the tongs, from my position on the tale I could see my clit being stretched and crushed like a long piece of meat. The nurse watched in fascination.

"How painful is it?" My doctor asked me.

My mouth as open but at first I could not find breath. Then she clamped the tongs shut even tighter.

"Aaaaaa eeeeeeeee aaaaah oooooooow!"

My voice was a high pitched scream.

"There there." MY lover said casually and offered the tongs to the nurse.

"May I?"

"Yes, tug hard and then rotate left then right and pull again."

"Thank you!"

The nurse obeyed her.

"Aaaaarrrghhh ooo oh oh noooo aaaaah!"

I fought to take a breath.

"Almost over." My lover said to me, "Be brave, you are doing so well my dear."

"It's rather like tenderising a piece of meat." My Doctor added, taking the tongs from the nurse, "The clitoris actually extends four inches into the body. It's best that we draw as much of it out as we can. Check the print out to record her pain stats."

The nurse went back over to the machine and watched.

"Once more." Doctor said, then pulled on the tongs. I felt a sharp tug deep in my groin as if everything inside had been jerked outwards. I breathed in sharp and was grateful for the oxygen over my face. I stared upwards at the lights for a moment, pain stunning me. Then she pulled again.

"ieeeeeeeeee...ooooooowwwwwww...oooooo-oooo n-n-naaaa--noo -no- no-! "

I gasped for air and looking down saw my clitoris as a glowing red bulb locked in tongs, swollen even larger than I had ever suffered it and the length of it resembling a small penis about three inches long.

She twisted the tongs again, twistng left and right. Tears ran down my face.

"MMMMmmmmmm....mmmm....aaaaaaa!"

As she caught the look in my eyes my lover stopped.

"Have you crossed into a brief sensation of pleasure?"

I nodded.

"Nurse."

The nurse left the machine and came over. Her eyes widened as she saw how much of my clitoris hand been pulled upwards.

"Hold the tongs." She ordered her, "My poor darling has some arousal remaining. I want to make her come again."

Then she lowered her voice.

"It IS her last one."

While the nurse held the tongs, my lover paced a thumb and forefinger either side of my blood red clit. Se began to rub frantically, until her glovedhand became a blur.

I came at once.

"OOOhhhh....aaaaaaaah aahhh AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHH MMMMMMMMM OOOOooo ohhh ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

Then I relaxed, pleasure fading as the sensation of my clit being pulled came back, although by now the tip was numb.

I felt something run down my face, I realised I was sweating but my lack of hair meant it just ran onto me. My Doctor wiped my face and head.

"I have to give you a large injection in the pubis."She informed me, "I am so sorry if it is painful Count to ten and your pubis will be numb."

I nodded dumbly, bracing for the needle but as it dug in and the nurse slid the needle deep into the bone beneath my clit, I gave a weak yell, then as the pain throbbed and she pulled the needle out, my lover, still masked, cupped my face and looked into my eyes.

"Count with me - two, three four, five six..."

"Seven, eight." I said weakly, then I felt the pain melt. I was aware of a prodding sensation but felt little else.

"Can she feel that?" The nurse asked.

My doctor shook her head.

"Shes numb and hazy, good work, Nurse, that needle hit the spot. Numb the rectal area, please."

I was aware of a gloved hand that seemed to rummage between my buttocks, the I realised the nurse was applying thick white cream both internally and externally which she covered with a dressing and the taped to me. The way I was spread with all holes on show meant the dressing just sat there with ease, while I felt my ass turn to ice.

An oxygen mask was placed over my face.

"It is time, my darling. Be brave."

As I looked into the eyes of my lover I got the oddest wish that I could spread my legs even wider. I glanced down towards my groin and looked back at her and smiled.

She seemed to understand, patting my bare pubis.

"I know, I know."She assured me, "It will soon be over."

Then she covered her mouth again and turned to the nurse who showed her the results of my first brain wave recording. She nodded to her and ordered her to clamp me wide open. If felt nothing but more tugging as I was clamped. The nurse stood beside her, watching with intense interest. I noticed The tongs were back but now I did not care as I was numb. She grasped the end of my stretched clit and held it up.

"Fascinating." The nurse said. My lover was carefully examining my clamped, stretched clitoris. She looked up at me.

"Your clitoris IS diseased." She told me, "I am sure that after surgery there will be no more problems but you do know what this means, don't you?"

I smiled in an understanding way as I recalled all the times she had mock examined me and threatened to 'cut it off'. This was it, it was real and strangely I felt very aroused by the idea.

"Are you going to remove my clit?" I said slowly and weakly.

She nodded."And the hood, and the inner labia. I'm so very sorry."

I managed to smile.

"Operate on me Mistress." I said, words were slurring.

The nurse glanced at the Doctor and I saw a trace of arousal in her eyes as she realised her Doctor and boss was my mistress and about to cut off my clit and not only this but I wanted it. My Doctor lifted a scalpel.

She looked intently at me.

"I'm going to slit the hood and remove it, then cut off the inner labia and remove the clitoris last of all." She advised me.But all I could see was the eyes of my beautiful woman doctor.

"I love you." I said dozily, "Take my clit, cut my cunny..."

"She's under enough for us to proceed." My doctor said.

She lowered the scalpel and began to cut.

Moments later she drew back a blood stained knife and demanded the nurse suction the area. She wiped me again and applied another clamp, then as the nurse held out a silver kidney dish, she dropped apiece of bloody flesh into it.

"That was your hood." She told me.

She took a fine needle and began to sew, it was a slow procedure but the nurse watched with her eyes wide.

"We are we performing clitoridectomy?"

"After labia removal."

She took a tiny pair of forceps and gripped my left labia. Then she took up miniature heated cutters, as she did so they bleeped and she nodded.

"That means they are at the right temperature."

She held my inner fold tightly with one hand and clipped with the other.The room was filled with the smell of burning and and a sound with each clip as if chicken skin was being cut.

As she repeated it the other side I saw the nurse eagerly position the bowl to receive the flesh. As the Doctor dropped it in she paused to look at it, seeming fascinated by an amputated labia and clit hood.

"Keep the hood and the labia minora in the bowl and get another for the clitoris."She told the nurse, "They have to be sent to the lab as separate tissue samples because the clitoris is an organ."

The nurse nodded, placing the bloody bowl to one side and eagerly selecting another, larger gleaming bowl which she hovered between my legs with, watching my lover work with eagerly gleaming eyes. My lover looked into my eyes.

"I'm taking your clitoris right out." She told me"There may be a few nerve endings left behind and as soon as you are healed i will be down there between all you have left to give you the remains of pleasure, but your clitoris MUST be removed and it is happening now. I will put on the clamp first."

The nurse stood behind me and ran her latex covered hands over my bald head.

"Stay calm." She was reassuring me, "It wont take long. Once your clit is gone you will have no more pain or disease. You’ll be nice and clean and you will look lovely. I rather think the bald look suits you."

My doctor looked up from my groin and smiled.

"I think my nurse finds you attractive with your hairless look. I certainly do. Remember I said I'd always wanted to shave your head?"

I smiled and nodded.

As my lover drew her hands away from my groin I saw they were heavily blood stained.

"Is...the..clamp on?" I said weakly.

She nodded.

"The clamp is on firmly."

Then she gripped the handle of the tongs so hard I saw muscles flex in her arms. She drew the tongs upwards and pulled even harder. I saw my clit as a thick, red, swollen piece of meat gleaming by the surgical light and stained with iodine. She slid the heated blades down low, I felt pressure as she dug into the pubic bone.

"Here we are." She announced, then closed the blades.

It happened fast, she released the blade as burning filled the room and the wide eyed nurse stared at the clitoris that was dropped into the kidney bowl. My lover picked up another suture kit and began to sew quickly, she moved my catheter as she worked and I guessed she was tidying me up.

"I want to keep the outer labia intact."She explained to me as she worked, "Purely for my preference, so I get a lovely surprise when I part the lips and see a lovely thin scar ad a pee hole and a vagina."

I smiled through my mask.

As she finished stitching she changed her gloves and ordered the nurse to cover my pubis. The nurse carefully dressed me covering the whole of my cunny but leaving a gap for the catheter to poke through. Once it was all taped up she took the ass dressing off and wiped off the excess cream.

"Are you still awake?"

My lover was leaning over me.

I nodded.

"I'm going to give you a rectal muscle stretch."

I smiled lazily, now longing for sleep.

I was aware of a vague prodding, then my bowel filled with liquid.

"It's important to flood the rectum with lubricant." She said to the nurse.

"Hold her buttocks WIDE apart for me, please!"

As I lay there I laughed in my drugged state as I heard a squelch and a pop, then another squelch as her hand worked in and out of me, I could feel my body sliding up and down despite the restraints.

"Now I can get one hand in, I'm going to slowly insert the other."

She talked to the nurse like a teacher as she elongated her other hand. The nurse nodded and watched, she was clearly thrilled to be a witness to such radical surgery and I had no complaints. She held my buttocks wide, bracing them open. My Doctor pushed in her other hand. I felt a vague slopping inside, a popping and slurping that made me giggle through my mask. As she took both hands out trapped wind popped out loudly like a series of sharp snaps. And I laughed even harder, as I realised I was bald, catheterised, circumcised and now farting loudly while my lover and a nurse tore me a new ass.

"That was a loud one." The nurse remarked.

I laughed again. I could feel my face reddening all the way up to my bald head.

"Good thing I cleaned you out this morning." My lover said playfully, "It's just a big, big fart, calm down, my dear. Almost done."

She slid her hands back into my ass.

"Now I'm going to do the interesting part."

The nurse was still holding me open.

"Stretch her hole with your fingers?"

"Slide both hands in, grip both sides of the anal opening and pull -"

My lover grunted with the effort, she was literally pulling my ass apart. The nurses eyes widened as her hands pulled until my hole yawned like a gaping black pit.

"She's tearing."

"Scissors."

The nurse handed her the scissors.

"I'm snipping both sides at the top and the bottom of the rectal opening much like a vaginal episiotomy."

She handed the bloody scissors back to the nurse. Then she smiled at me.

"When you are healed my hands will slide in and out of you, my love."

"Have I still got an ass?" I asked lazily.

"A very loose one."

She took a wide tube. It was clear plastic and looked more like a pipe than any kind of catheter. It slid in with a slurp and a pop and then she took up a needle and thread.

"I'll now sew the new rectal opening to the width of the pipe to ensure a wide hole."As she was tying off the last stitch I felt a rumble and another fart exploded from me.

"Thats quite enough!" My Doctor said and showed me a long, thick rubber tube. She inserted it high into my rectum, way past the support that held open my ass.

"No more farts for a while!"She teased me, then she kissed my brow.

"All over now."

I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.

When I woke up I was high on pain relief but my Doctor lover showed me a mirror and when I saw my bald head, still with the sensors glued to it, I swore I felt a tingle somewhere in the region of where my clit used to be. She told me she had left a small cluster of nerves behind so that with much stimulation I would still have orgasm sensations - with her help, of course. Then she took the dressing off. It was a neat scar, I marvelled at the way the thin line was so tightly stitched. wo weeks later the results came back from pathology and revealed my clitoris and other tissues were actually healthy. I said to my lover i had become bald, circumcised and had my ass wrecked for nothing, but the she smiled and asked me if I liked the result. I had t admit I could hardly complain because I had masturbated ver it so many times in bed with her.

"I love it." I told her.

She planted a kiss on my pubis, spread my labia and licked my scar. The pillow felt cool against my bald head and I sighed as her hands slid in and out of my ass. And as I was still recovering in her clinic, the nurse watched everything,her own hand toying with something I didn’t have any more - a clitoris. My lover asked if she could play with it n fro of me and I said yes, then my toes curled as the Doctors expert finger hit a small bundle of nerves where my clit used to be and the nurse stopped masturbating to take the brain wave reading from the machine beside my bed.

I came to think of her as my masturbation nurse and welcomed her assistance when my lover played with me.

Six weeks later I went home with my lover and found my modified body made our love life better than ever. And my hair did not row back. That was something that excited both of us, and even the nurse, who made regular visits once a week to enhance my 'check ups'.

And that is the story of how my lesbian doctor lover changed my life forever.

I remain her bald patient and lover and have a beautiful scar between my legs that I think of as a work of art.

The End

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

Text

Will I be next?

Your new roommate offers you a private visit to the hospital she is working at. She has told you about the Breeders Program and she wants to show you what is it about. Do you accept?

You gladly accepted, of course! You wanted to find out more about the Breeders Program that she had been talking about. You have been very curious to find out what they were doing, and what it was like being a surrogate. The fact that she asked you to come after work made it sound even more clandestine and enticing. You wanted to see the real deal.

You met her at the emergency exit at the back of the building and sneaked in unregistered under cover of darkness. Nobody knew you were there. You took the service lift and was able to access the basement with her staff pass.

She brought you to an empty office with a folded hospital gown on the examination table. She handed you the gown and said you should try to blend in. You quickly changed after she drew the privacy curtain and was all excited about the visit. She said she will be showing you all the different treatment rooms and equipment.

She came back with a wheelchair once you are done. She strapped you to the wheelchair across the chest for your safety and you didn't resist. You wondered why the strap also ran over your arms but you imagined that was probably the way it was done. She also gave you a wrist-tag and you were impressed by her preparations.

You checked the tag as she was putting a bouffant cap over your head. You got a bit concerned when you noted it had all you details on it. But you started moving before you could ask her about it.

You passed a few nurses and they acknowledged your roommate while looking at you with some interest.

“Our guest for tonight?” one asked and your roommate nodded. You wondered if that was how they addressed their patients and how often they had “guests", especially “night ones". While you were excited about the tour, you were beginning to feel a bit vulnerable. What if you walked into a trap!?

The first room you came looked like it came out of a science fiction movie. You see sedated patients, all pregnant, and connected to sophisticated machines through various tubes and cables. You were mesmerised by the heaving swollen bellies and the sound of heavy breathing in the room as their transparent masks fogged up with their breaths. You started to wonder what they were doing in this hospital.

“This is the Breeders Programme. Fertile ladies at their prime are recruited as surrogates. They are carrying genetically enhanced babies. The machines they are hooked up to ensure they are well nourished and properly conditioned. They are kept lightly sedated so they are always cooperative and never disturbed.”

You wondered why there are uncooperative patients and asked if they volunteered. Your roommate simply said “they turned up on their own free will.” You were a bit sceptical and wondered it you had not also “turned up on your own free will.” But she was already wheeling you out of the room.

Next stop was a little scientific looking lab area with lots of cryonic tanks and test tubes and bubbling chemicals. A technician was looking through a microscope and manipulating some pipette in a petri dish. Smoking liquid nitrogen added to the mysteriousness of it all and sent a chill down your spine.

“You probably guessed it. Embryos for our next surrogate volunteer.” You almost saw your roommate gesturing volunteer in inverted commas. You swallowed hard as you start to feel your nakedness under the gown. You were imagining it was for you and they were going to implant the embryo into you. Despite your predicament, you closed your eyes and shuddered at that sudden onslaught of arousal. You have no wish to be a mindless baby vessel but couldn't help imagining yourself in the earlier room. You could feel the wetness below as your naked bottoms rubbed against the seat of the wheelchair. You secretly wished she would show you the impregnation process.

“It's time,” she announced and your heart skipped a beat. Without any explanation, you followed the technician out into the corridor and to the operating suite. You were sure they were going to impregnate you!

There was a flurry of activities as you entered the operating room. To your great relief, there was a patient on a gurney and the srubbing nurses were just transferring her over to the operating table. You were only going to watch after all but it got your really wet down under.

She looked disorientated, probably given some sedatives prior to this. Her limbs flopped clumsily as the nurses positioned her on the table with her arms on the side board and legs on the stirrups. Then she was strapped in securely. Her eyes were already unfocused when the anaesthetist brought the black mask over her face. You thought you saw her struggling and shaking her head but you weren't sure as it was too weak.

The anaesthesia mask was held tightly and she was told to breathe deeply. She frowned and her head shook feebly. Was it the anaesthetist or the patient? She struggled against the restraints momentarily but soon, she was unconscious.

The technician handed the long pipette to the surgeon and she went to work immediately. The image of the womb was visible on the ultrasound machine as she skilfully guided the tip through the cervix and into the womb. The embryos were released and it was done.

It was too hot for you and you rubbed your thighs against one another. Your thighs were well lubricated from your own juice. You hands moved involuntarily to ease the urge which you realised only when the strap held them back. Your roommate noticed your excitement and wheeled you out of the operating suite into a smaller room just across the corridor.

The room was lined with cabinets filled with medical supplies and a small sink. It was a preparatory room where patients were prepped. In the middle of the room was a gurney with straps and cuffs dangling at the side. Your roommate locked the door and announced it was time to have some fun.

She pulled up a pair of sterile gloves and made a show of putting them on. Then she walked up to you and put two fingers into your mouth. You instinctively licked them as she slid them down your throat. It was hard to hide your own excitement as she worked her finger in and out.

She released you from the wheelchair and both of you engaged in some heavy patting. She expertly untied your gown and manipulated your body. You surrendered to her advances and you ended up naked on the gurney.

You hesitated and struggled half-heartedly when she started securing your wrists to the cuffs followed by the straps across the body. You couldn't tell if this was part of the play or was it a trap that she had set. Either way, it drove your fetish to a higher level and you trembled with excitement when you saw her with the black rubber mask over your head.

You shook your head from side to side and pleaded no but it was unconvincing. Somehow, she seemed to know this was your darkest fantasy. You struggled against the restraints and realised that they were secure and tight. She cupped your face and her piercing eyes above her mask made your stomach churn with a deep fear laced with desire.

When she finally held it over your face, you took a deep breath to smell the rubber and let the vacuum hold the mask tight to your face. The delicious gas flowed and you let it fill your lungs. You fought against yhe restraints but your limbs were held firmly in place. Your struggles only made you breathe harder. Your world started to spin and you realised how vulnerable you were. They had you now and there was no escape. The thought of you being impregnated like the patient you just saw brought you over the edge. You came at that thought and thrashed against the restraints. And in the throes of ecstasy, your world lost its edges as you slowly went under.

Was this for real or was this for fun? You will find out when you wake up.

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

Text

"Let me show you where you will stay!" Dr. Robertson said cheerfully. Her heels made a clacking sound on the linoleum as she walked in front of him. He noticed her slim figure under her immaculate white coat. When the doctor opened the door to lead him into the room, his first reflex was to run away.

Steve didn't know what he had expected. The clinic had looked like a luxury hotel from the outside. He had imagined a tastefully decorated room with dark wooden furniture, a comfy bed with many throw pillows and a big flat-screen TV. The room he was entering now was not a luxury suite, but a fully equipped intensive care unit! He could see a hospital bed in the middle of the room. Next to it was what looked like a ventilator. Long corrugated hoses were attached to the machine; they were hanging neatly on a stand, ready to be picked up by the nurse. To the left were several machines with screens and a stand with syringe pumps. "These rooms were only added last year to keep up with the growing demand for this type of treatment," the doctor said proudly. "We have only the latest equipment. During your stay you will be constantly monitored and we will continously adjust your medication. That way we'll ensure that your treatment is successful!" He noticed that the window went out to the beautiful park of the clinic but something told him he wouldn't be able to enjoy that view tomorrow....

On the way back to the doctor's office they passed other treatment rooms. As one door opened and a nurse stepped out, he caught a glimpse of the patient in the room. The patient was lying on the bed, his head streched back on a pillow. There were tubes coming out of his mouth and he had been hooked up to the ventilator. Intravenous lines lead from the syringe pumps to the patient's arms. A nurse was busy injecting a fluid from a big syringe. The doctor caught his look. "This patient has almost finished his treatment," she said. "He will spend the night here and should be able to be transferred to the ward tomorrow!" Steve swallowed hard. Tomorrow it would be his turn...

After strict instructions not to smoke or eat anything, Steve had been lead to the room where he was to spend the night before the treatment. It was not a luxury suite either, but comfortable enough. He checked his phone. Sabrina had sent a message. "Love you, darling. Be brave. Will come and see you tomorrow!" Steve looked at the message. He was so lucky to have found this woman. He and Sabrina wanted to marry and have kids. Steve he wanted to be a good husband and father. But as drug addict... - no, from tomorrow on he would be a recovered drug addict, he told himself. "Ultra-rapid detox under anaesthesia" Dr. Robertson had called it. Steve did not want to be put under but he told himself that he would conquer his fear and go through this treatment so that Sabrina could be proud of him. He knew that it would not be easy, despite the positive results that Dr. Roberts had promised - he'd read all possible complications mentioned in the small print on the consent from. But Sabrina had been so supportive all the time that he could not step back now. "You can do this!" she'd told him when she'd dropped him off at the clinic. Steve thought of the patient in the room, hooked up to the ventilator. He did not sleep well that night...

"Today is the start of a new life for you," Dr. Roberts said as she put the intravenous line into his arm. Steve watched as the nurses hooked him up to the monitors. "Yes, I - I think so," he said. He knew that the doctor wanted to make friendly conversation to ease his fear, but the desperate wish run away and cancel the treatment was becoming bigger with each minute that he spent in this room. He tried to catch a view of the park with its green lawns outside to distract himself but was quickly drawn back by the doctor who was busy preparing the anaesthesia machine. Steve saw her connect an anaesthetic mask to the long corrugated hoses. "Well, Steve, it's time" she said. "I told you already that once you're asleep we will put you on the ventilator. We will also insert a gastric tube through we will give you the medication that will be the key to your new life. The whole procedure should take about six hours, depending on how you respond to the treatment. Now lie back comfortably!" It took Steve all his willpower not to turn his head away from the mask that he now saw in the doctor's hands. "Lydia will now inject the anaesthetic," the doctor told him," ... and I will help you to breathe!" Dr. Roberts gently put the the mask onto his face. Now everything went too fast - Steve noticed a light burning sensation as the medication entered his vein, then he was quickly drawn under by a powerful force. He soon could not keep his eyes open any longer. "Shh, my dear," he heard Dr. Robert's voice. "Everything's fine! Now take a deep breath from the mask for me!" She tightly sealed it onto his face and then started to ventilate him with the breathing bag....

Of what happened next Steve would later only remember isolated sounds and sensations like parts of a big jigsaw puzzle. No matter how long he searched, he would only get together some bits and pieces, the rest was forever lost - washed away by the anaesthetic that had been injected into his bloodstream.

He remembered briefly waking up after the breathing tube had been put in. He had coughed and gagged but he had been held down by the nurses while the doctor had fixed the tube with tape. The nurses had also kept him down while Dr. Roberts had inserted a second, thinner tube into his mouth and pushed it down his throat. He had gagged and struggled - but in vain! "Shhh, Steve'", he'd heard the doctor's voice. "Don't fight it! The tubes will have to stay in! We want you to get better, so we'll have to start the treatment now! While the nurse had ventilated him with the bag, the doctor had picked up a big syringe, connected it to the gastric tube and injected the first dose of medication. Then she had connected his breathing tube to the ventilator. He'd felt his chest rise with the first artificial breath. In... out.... in... out ... - the machine breathed for him. He was drawn under into an endless cycle of injections and artificial ventilation - his new life was about to start..

"Hello, my dear. I'm here! I'm so proud of you that you did it!" Sabrina's voice speaking to him - another memory that the anaesthetic injections had not been able to wipe out. "Do you think he can hear me," she'd asked. "We cannot be sure - we're giving him quite a high dose", Dr. Roberts had answered, "but it might be that he can still hear you!" "When can you let him he wake up?" he'd heard Sabrina say. "That depends on how well he responds to the medication. He showed quite a strong reaction after we let him first wake up - unfortunately that made re-intubation necessary. He'll stay here for at least another day, maybe longer. Don't worry! You can't do anything for him now. We'll call you when he'll be ready to leave." Then there had been steps and the click of the door being shut - Sabrina had left. Next he'd felt the doctor's gloved hand on his head. "No, Steve, we won't let you go very soon! Those tubes will stay in for a little longer. And why should we take them out? This is your new life! You're going to stay with us! Here you won't have to worry about anything, my dear - not even about your breathing!" Then she had picked up the breathing bag and had started to ventilate him again. A slight pain had told him that more anaesthetic was being injected into his IV. He felt it travel up his arm. It got hold of him, carried him away, took him to a wide path in the park between the green lawns. He followed the path that lead him into his new life...

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

Text

This particular set of lies started as many do, on the internet. They’d met on a website for fetishes. Jack’s profile told of a fascination with anesthesia, filled with images he’d found on the internet. Images of masks, operating rooms, and dental chairs with blurry eyed patients in them. Everything to do with it, his interest list said. Kelly messaged him to compliment him on one of his finds.

Kelly’s profile was more sparse. She’d listed a lot of medical-related interests; operating rooms, medical uniforms chief among them. She had a couple pictures of gloves, masks, needles and surgical tools, but they all looked like stock photos. She listed a nearby city as her address, though, and they’d started talking.

Jack had anesthesia as a child, she learned, but didn’t remember much about the experience. She had been a nurse, she said, and had really enjoyed working in the OR. But she’d been fired (unfairly, she said) and moved into a different career; something to do with medical supplies. Kelly was vague on details, and Jack didn’t press, since he was happy to have someone to talk to about his fetish. He probably should have asked more questions.

Over a month or two, they exchanged pictures of themselves. Kelly and Jack were roughly same age; Jack was well built, not an athlete but well groomed, with short black hair and stubble of a beard. Kelly was thin, athletic, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes which seemed, well, a little cold in the picture. But both were attractive enough to the other. Interspersed with personal details, descriptions of the minor ongoings of their lives, they became internet friends, or at least it seemed so.

One night, she shared a picture of a room she was building; her fetish playroom, she wrote brazenly. For a medical fetishist, the picture was enticing; an overhead view of a white operating table, coils of EKG wires laid out on it, a folded patient gown, surrounded by monitoring machines. It didn’t show the whole room, but it looked extremely realistic. She said she’d been building it for years but had never shown it to anyone else. It wasn’t completely true, but he had no way to know he wasn’t the first person she’d befriended and shown.

Then, the next day, apparently out of the blue, Kelly sent Jack an invitation; did he want to meet in real life? Come over, get the tour, see her playroom himself? He accepted.

The address Kelly gave Jack was a small two-story house on a main road. He parked his car in a marked space in the small, wide driveway, and walked up the short path to the door. Jack hesitated for a moment; maybe a moment of nervousness, of hesitation. Was it really a good idea to meet someone from the internet in private? Someone he’d never met before? He wasn’t really sure what Kelly wanted or what she expected… but he thought he wanted to find out. He knocked.

Kelly opened the door immediately. She’d been waiting, watching him approach the door. She had noted his moment of indecision, and put on her most disarming, innocent smile.

“Jack! I’m glad you came. Come in,” Kelly invited. She looked just like her picture, but Jack immediately understood a little of what she had in mind, because she was dressed in dark blue scrubs and a doctor’s white coat, her blond hair pulled back in a pony tail. His eyes almost popped out of his head as he stared at her for a second too long. Then, he stepped inside, already feeling the early stirrings of excitement.

“Hello Kelly; I like the outfit!” He told her.

“I thought you would. I do, too; I told you how much I like medical costumes… and I thought I’d set the tone right up front. Follow me!” Kelly had always been bad at small-talk in-person, which Jack had gathered from their previous correspondence.

Kelly led him into the front room of the house, and he looked around. To his surprise, it seemed like a storage area; rows of plastic storage containers and cardboard boxes filled the room. It was dimly lit and a little disorganized, like a well organized but over-full garage. “What is all of this?” He asked her.

“Inventory,” she explained, leading him deeper through a row of plastic containers. “After my job as a nurse ended, I went into the medical supply business. This is the world headquarters, such as it is, of my medical supply company. All of the actual customers do business over the internet, so an old office like this is plenty of space to run the business. This used to be the lobby, but now, boxes.”

The old carpet and boxes gave way to fake wood floors and faded white walls. She led him down a short hallway. On either side of the hallway were several little empty alcoves, not quite separated from the hall by rows of cabinetry and free-standing drawers. Jack had seen this sort of floor-plan before, and it took Jack only a few seconds to place it; the layout, the size of the alcoves. “This… this used to be a dentist’s office? Those are, what, exam rooms?”

Kelly still had her smile carefully fixed on her face as she turned to him. “It sure was! Apparently practice here wasn’t good, and the dentist was forced to shut down. I, or, rather the company I built, bought the whole thing. It seemed an appropriate place to buy for my new career after being forced out as a nurse. Shame for you that they didn’t leave any dental chairs behind, isn’t it? Maybe ‘my company’ will have to buy one sooner or later…”

Jack laughed, and they arrived at a closed door, apparently locked. Kelly produced a key from a pocket, and opened the door wide. They stepped inside, into a well-lit room much larger than the dental alcoves had been.

“Wow…..” Jack said, almost speechless.

Kelly smiled. “I thought you might have that reaction. This used to be the main dental surgery. They took the dental chair along with most of the equipment when I bought the property, and frankly, I’m just not that interested in dental chairs. Instead, I replaced a few things; some stuff I found on the internet, some stuff from my medical supply business. I’ve turned it into, well, a proper operating room.”

This was an absolutely fair description. In the middle of the room was an imposing metal T-shaped operating table, topped with a thin white pad, which covered both the body of the table and two armboards but didn’t conceal the gleaming steel beneath. Instead of faded white walls and fake wood like the rest of the office, the walls gleamed of fresh paint and Jack could see reflections in the shiny blue tile floor. Two massive surgical spotlights hung from the ceiling above the table.

The table was surrounded by medical machines, and just like the picture, had wires and a gown waiting on it. It was clearly the same room in the picture she’d sent, but seemed even more genuine in-person. This was clearly the room of someone with an obsession; someone that knew what they wanted and that every detail needed to be right. Jack’s jaw was almost hung open as he took in the whole scene.

“It looks almost exactly like the ORs I used to work in,” Kelly said. “I guess I really missed the atmosphere, the feeling of precision and power in this sort of space. I think I’ve captured it. The only thing that’s slightly out of place is the dental cabinetry and counter over there against that wall.” It was the sort typical of dentists offices; rows of drawers and cabinets, a sink for hand-washing.

“In a real OR, you’d likely just have rolling carts and less fixed furniture, and handwashing would be outside the room.” Kelly caught herself before she went off on a full explanation. Better not to rant too much while she was trying to make Jack comfortable.

Jack wasn’t really listening anyways; he stood in the doorway, just taking in the whole scene. This was an operating room just like in the pictures he’d look at, all medical white and medical blue. Kelly touched his arm to get his attention. “Do you want the tour?” She asked, almost startling him.

“Of course I do!”

She led him around the room slowly, pointing out every detail. She explained a squat white wheeled machine was a surgical suction machine, with empty pressure vessels hanging on it. Next, there was a rack with several electrical sources on it, “For a number of different operating room uses,” she said. Kelly remembered the moment of nervousness she’d seen and decided not to tell him that she had a variety of electrical tools, from cautery pens for some and stimulation probes for others. “The dentist actually left this small autoclave,” she pointed out a boxy machine on the counter.

She showed him one of a couple of the patient monitors, this one a big screen mounted on a pole, wires, electrodes, and pressure cuffs stored in baskets nearby. “My company bought this one as a demo unit. It does everything, even 5-lead EKG and rectal temperature. Watch out, or you’ll find out how big that sensor is!”

Jack laughed awkwardly; he couldn’t tell if she was kidding about the rectal sensor. Kelly wasn’t kidding.

Jack followed her around, looking at all the devices she explained. Everything seemed to be real and working; some even had lights indicating they were powered on. Apart from machines, there were IV poles and roller-stands around the room, too, and he found himself looking at one that held a green-draped tray, that had been pushed into a corner. The tray was covered in gleaming metal surgical tools; each had been laid out carefully. He recognized scalpels of several different shapes, tissue retractors, curved suturing needles.

Kelly felt a moment’s fear, and regret she’d left the tray uncovered. If Jack freaked out, it could ruin everything. She quickly offered an explanation; “Do you like my prop? It just sets the atmosphere a bit, don’t you think? Makes it feel even more authentic?”

“And here, of course,” Kelly said with some drama, pulling Jack away from the intimidating tray of tools, “Is what I’m sure you wanted to see. Come look!”

The last stop on the tour was a large anesthesia machine, positioned at the head of the operating table. It was large and boxy, with “Narkomed” in big letters on its bright blue frame. “This is the Drager Narkomed, an anesthesia machine from the late 1990s. My company sells these mostly for veterinary uses now, but in previous decades these machines have put a lot of humans under for surgery.”

“Wow, it’s real? It works?” Kelly nodded. She could see Jack’s fascination. Year’s of lurking on the internet, and here was a real anesthesia machine, being shown to him by someone dressed just like a real live nurse. This was a dream come true, or so he thought. He examined the machine; he could see the columnar flow gauges, showing O2, Air, and Nitrous. A small, 90s-looking display looked like it had flow alarms and ventilator settings, but mostly analog dials and knobs covered the front of the machine. A blue rebreathing bag hung off of a plastic breathing circuit already connected, and a few different sizes of clear anesthesia masks sat on the cart which supported the machine, still in their clear bags. A yellow-ringed stainless steel vaporizer hung off the machine’s top, with a bright label that said “Sevoflurane”. Jack didn’t think Kelly could really have any of the anesthetic, though.

“Well, it mostly works,” Kelly had decided, beforehand, to tell exactly the lie she was about to. “The machine itself is fully functional, I’ve been able to buy replacement parts, and you can see I have breathing circuits. A whole box of them in the lobby, actually. But anesthesia machines don’t really work without drugs, and you can’t really get your hands on those without special medical licensing. So having a vaporizer doesn’t mean having any sevo.”

“But….” Kelly hesitated, as if letting Jack in on a little secret. “Come look at this closer.” Jack saw she was indicating that the machine was connected to the wall; multicolored cables, tubes, connected to ports. “See, Jack, this was a dental surgery, and they had a central distribution system for oxygen and nitrous oxide, to all the exam rooms and especially this operatory. And, guess what… they left several cylinders of both. So I do have oxygen, and I do have nitrous.”

This was, actually, a partial lie. She had actually had her medical supply company simply order the cylinders she had connected, with their ‘special medical licensing’. But it would be easier if Jack didn’t know that. Because she was about to ask the question that she wanted, needed, him to accept.

“So, Jack. I’m going to offer you something special. Do you want to try some nitrous?”

Jack hesitated. On the other hand, this was the first time they’d met in person. What did he really know about Kelly? Sid he really trust her? On the other hand, this was an amazing opportunity; this playroom was amazing and Kelly seemed amazing. Maybe, he thought, he’d accept, but be careful? He could set boundaries. Surely she’d think that was totally normal.

“OK, Kelly. But, uh… not too much? And if I want to stop, we have to stop. And, nothing kinky this time, OK? No restraints or anything like that. ”

Kelly nodded; “Of course! We’ll start you off really low, and you can see how it feels, and we’ll talk before turning anything up. Nitrous won’t really make you fall asleep or anything, you know. I can see you’re nervous, so you can even hold the mask. We’’ll get you hooked up to all the monitors, too; safety first.” This sounded acceptable… and quite exciting to Jack, and they agreed.

“Let me get my uniform a little more complete, and I left a change of clothes for you on the table. I’ll turn my back! You remember how much I enjoy these outfits,” a flirtatious smile accompanied a slightly husky tone of voice. “Take off all your clothes and put the gown on.”

Jack laughed this time. He had expected to end up with some clothes off at some point, maybe not exactly these circumstances. He sat up on the side of the operating table; he had correctly intuited that Kelly wanted to treat him like her patient in this little game. He was excited by the idea, especially if it made her happy while he was getting to enjoy this unique opportunity. She turned her back, as she’d said, and opened one of the cabinets as Jack took off his clothes. Dropping them in a pile on the floor, where he thought they’d be out of the way, he put on the shear white patient gown, held together by snaps. It was long enough to cover the sign of his increasing arousal at the entire situation. He shivered, maybe because the room was cold, maybe out of the increasing tension in the room.

He watched Kelly pull things out of the cabinet; it looked like it was filled with boxes of gloves, masks, and PPE, all different kinds and colors. Kelly did like her medical uniforms. Kelly first looped her pony-tail up into a bun, then tied a blue cap over her hair. It was clearly a practiced motion, and for a moment Jack thought about asking her more about her time as a nurse. Maybe later, he decided. A white mask with elastic loops completed her ensemble. Turning back to him, she made a show of pulling on a set of purple gloves, letting them slowly stretch and snap back onto her fingers.

“This is yours, too” she handed him a pale blue bouffant cap. He pulled it over his hair dutifully.

“Lie back, and we’ll get you hooked up to the monitors.” Kelly ordered. Jack lay back on the operating table, as Kelly turned on the patient monitor she’d showed him, and flipped a switch on the anesthesia machine. The anesthesia machine she’d already pressure-tested, so powering it would only take a few moments. Jack looked up at the lights above him, looked around the room. This all seemed so real. There was no hiding his excitement and arousal now, but he wasn’t embarrassed. Surely that was what Kelly had expected. “I’ll get you a pillow, and leave the overhead lights off,” Kelly offered, and slipped a small, round pillow under his head, careful not to let him look directly at it.

“Now some sensors,” Jack watched her closely as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his left arm, clipped an oxygen sensor on the pointer-finger. Taking the curl of EKG wires, she reached into his gown to put electrodes on his chest; three of them, one at a time. Jack watched the monitor trace his heart-beat, elevated now, and felt the pressure cuff inflating and deflating. To him, this was an exciting and new experience, being hooked up to medical monitors by a sexy nurse. To her, this part was routine. She’d done this a thousand times to patients in operating rooms before the bastards had fired her, and she’d done this to several patients in this very ‘playroom’.

Kelly considered. Maybe should could make an excuse to get Jack to put his arms out in the T shape; to pull his arms down, attach them, even lightly, to the armboards. But he’d seemed hesitant; he’d specifically mentioned that he wanted nothing ‘kinky’. She decided she’d better not risk it. Safer to proceed to the main event. Kelly chose a plastic mask, attached it the anesthesia circuit. She then twisted the anesthesia machine’s oxygen knob open, then the N20 knob. The sound of flowing gas hissed throughout the room. She watched that the bobbins rose as expected, and she adjusted them to a 30% nitrous mix. This would be enough that Jack would feel the effects but wouldn’t at all be overwhelming. A good, pleasant mix.

“Alright, Jack. Are you ready? What I want you to do is hold this mask over your face and breath normally,” she appeared over his head, and he reached up and took the anesthesia mask from her. This was really happening. He pulled the mask over his nose and mouth, and took a first, tentative, breath. Everything seemed normal, no unexpected or noxious smells. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to detect any odor; maybe there was a little sweetness? He took another deep breath; the cool gas flow filling his nose and mouth.

“That’s it, great. You won’t feel anything for a little bit, but soon maybe a little tingling?”

Jack took a few more breaths, then blinked; the room was changing somewhat. Maybe getting brighter, maybe a comfortable glow? This was surely the first effect of the gas, and he liked it. He kept breathing, just lying there, holding the mask tight over his face, occasionally looking around the room at all the machines, at Kelly, at the lights on ceiling.

He wasn’t sure how long it took. Maybe two minutes, maybe five, but as Kelly predicted, he starting feeling a light tingling in his limbs. It was an amazing feeling. He looked up at Kelly, attractive and dressed just like the nurses in his fantasies. He looked around at the machines again, taking the whole situation in. He listened to the anesthesia machine humming, the monitor beeping. He was the luckiest anesthesia fetishist in history, he thought. And somehow very relaxing. The visible sign of his arousal relaxed, too, as the nitrous started creeping into his fingertips and toes.

He thought he was starting to feel comfortably buzzed, like he’d had a glass of scotch. He pulled in more and more of the gas, and wanted to try a higher setting.

Right as he had the thought, Kelly spoke. “Alright, Jack. You seem to be enjoying this. What do you say we try just a little more nitrous? Just enough to make you comfortably drowsy?”

Jack nodded beneath the mask, still enjoying the feeling. He didn’t feel like he was in any danger of losing control, and making this buzz a little more intense sounded just fine. He lifted the mask off his face for a minute. “I could try a little more gas…” he almost giggled before replacing the mask, greedily.

Kelly turned back the anesthesia machine, standing between her patient and the machine’s controls. She smoothly turned the nitrous flow way up, setting a ratio between 60 and 70% nitrous oxide, almost as high as this machine would let it go.

“Just hold the mask on your face and keep breathing normally, Jack. I’m turning the nitrous up to 50%” she lied, as she tried to keep the anticipation from her voice.

“I’m adjusting the volume of gas a little, so it’ll smell a bit sweeter, like strawberries” she hesitated for second, fighting the urge to turn and see if she was properly blocking his view with her body. This was a critical moment; she told herself that if she acted naturally, he wouldn’t question what she was about to do. Smoothly, like a cat about to pounce on unsuspecting prey, she reached for the sevoflurane vaporizer, and without saying anything else, twisted it open to 4%, the vaporizer’s halfway setting.

Under her touch, her machine responded. A soft click of the vaporizer engaging was the only immediate signal of her deception, but it was inaudible under the hum of the monitors and the hiss of the airflow. The oxygen and nitrous oxide continued to rush out of their tanks, mixing in the gas manifold and with leftover gas from the rebreathing bag. But now the mixed gas also flowed down the machine and into the vaporizer Kelly had just engaged. In the small vertical cylinder of the vaporizer, some of the gas was diverted into a chamber, which, despite her earlier excuse, was quite full of the potent anesthetic. The diverted gas picked up the sevoflurane vapor from the liquid, and from there, filled the mask that Jack was enjoying.

Jack watched as Kelly turned back towards him. He’d watched her adjust the machine, but couldn’t see exactly how, from his angle. He could tell she was now smiling down at him, the light around her head glowing softly from the intoxication. His lack of immediate reaction meant she’d gotten away with it; he still held the mask on his face.

Jack took a few more breaths as she finished adjusting the flow, and the gas was now smelling noticeably different. At its previous level, the nitrous has been barely perceptible, but now it was very easy to smell. He took a breath and thought he could almost taste it on the back of his tongue. Fascinated by the change, he took his next breath deeply, breathing through his nose to smell it fully. He thought it smelled more like a dry-erase marker than the strawberries Kelly had suggested. It was vaguely sweet, but sharper that it was before. Was that odd? She’d warned him that higher settings would smell more, and it wasn’t unpleasant. He thought he could already feel the intoxicating buzz in his head getting a little heavier, just like he’d expected.

The flow of nitrous oxide alone would cause sedation, amnesia, and maybe loss of consciousness if Jack inhaled it for a long enough. But with the introduction of the sevoflurane, his time was ticking down. He was putting himself under, and he had no idea. Kelly watched him continue to breath normally, and knew she almost had him.

“You’re doing great, Jack,” she told him, trying to keep him from questioning the feelings that would start soon. Her voice echoed in his head, just a bit. “Things will start to feel a little more fuzzy and distant. Stay relaxed and try to enjoy it.” He took another breath and looked up at the attractive nurse. Her purple gloved hands were touching his cheek as he held the mask on his own face, noticeably less firmly now. The buzzing in his head had given way to an odder, detached feeling. He no longer wanted to look around; just like Kelly had said, the authentic monitors and machines of Kelly’s playroom had become too fuzzy and far away. The blood pressure cuff inflated again, taking another reading, but he didn’t even notice it.

He took another breath, the marker smell still noticeable but also getting harder to focus on. Really, even Kelly, her eyes still transfixed on him, was getting harder to see. Compared to the first increment of nitrous she’d given him, things were happening fast. He could feel his eyelids getting heavier; already the giddiness he’d felt before had turned into a pleasant, warm drowsiness. But the drowsiness was still deepening, getting stronger. Maybe this was too much gas?

Kelly could see Jack’s eyes turning glassy as he struggled to focus. As he gazed up at his internet-friend, the surgical lights, and the tiled ceiling, he realized he was starting to feel seriously dizzy. Whenever he looked around, a wave of vertigo hit him. The feeling was starting to be overwhelming. This was too out of control. He no longer liked it. He decided this was enough gas. With a substantial effort, he pulled, pushed, dragged the mask off his face. His hand was leaden, the light plastic seemed to weigh a ton as it fell awkwardly to the operating table beside him. Clean air! A couple of breaths of room air would surely clear his head.

But Kelly didn’t give him the chance.

“I’ll help you, Jack. Here you go; I’ll hold it for you,” she said. She was trying to sound innocent, but Kelly’s mask hid a predator’s smile as she retrieved the dropped anesthesia mask and, without fanfare, pressed it back over Jack’s nose and mouth. “Nooo” he mumbled. Kelly heard him clearly, but it was easy enough to pretend the objection was muffled by the clear plastic.

Kelly pushed away one of Jack’s arms, as she pulled back on his chin with her gloved hands, extending his neck. The movement positioned him in the middle of the pillow and black rubber harness that was attached to the pillow’s bottom. With movements she’d done many times, she deftly pulled the harness’s ends over his head and onto the mask. With the dizziness and disorientation, by the time he realized what she was doing, two of the ends were already attached. Kelly fended off another ineffective attempt to grab at her, and a moment later snapped on the third and fourth rubber strip, affixing the mask tightly to his face.

He tried to tell Kelly that this was not what he wanted, that he’d stopped on purpose, but all that came out was a slurred string of constants, and the dizziness got worse. He wanted to stop, had to tell her to stop. He tried again, but the slurred noise was gibberish, even to him. She knew what he was trying to say, but simply ignored it, looking down as she held his chin and the top of his head. He tried to sit up, but with the effort came another wave of vertigo. He thrashed his head from side to side, trying to shake the mask off, but the harness held it on. Then Kelly was pushing his head back down onto the table, holding it still.

But he wanted to stop. This was going way too far. His fear pushed the drowsiness back a little as he struggled. Kelly could hear his agitation as the heart-monitor beeped faster.

“It’s OK; just relax and let it happen. You’re safe,” she lied to him, thinking of the instrument tray in the corner covered with sharp metal. Kelly knew if she could get him to take just a couple more breaths, Jack’s fate would be inevitable.

He went to pull the mask off his face again, to pull it off the harness, but Kelly had been expecting this. Before he even touched the mask, her gloved hands had caught his wrists, pushing his arms back down to his sides. He knew the gas was making him weak and slow, but she seemed really strong, towering over him. With the harness holding the anesthesia mask firmly, Kelly could use both hands to easily stop him from struggling.

“Don’t fight it, Jack. There’s no escape,” she told him, her voice more firm than before. Her words didn’t sound very reassuring, and he didn’t understand why she was holding him. Again he reached to pull the mask off, but again her gloved hands were there, easily pushing his hands away, then pushing his head down on the the table as he thrashed back and forth. He made a third useless attempt, but with each exertion he breathed more and more gas, and the next attempt was completely uncoordinated as fog started seeping into the edges of his vision.

“Just let go, Jack, “ Kelly’s voice echoing far more than before. “Stop fighting. You’ll be asleep very soon.” It took him effort to process what she was saying from beneath the increasing fog in his head, but he knew he didn’t want to sleep. He continued to try to pull the mask off his face but his arms were so heavy, they might as well have been made of iron. Kelly no longer needed to fend them off; they flopped around weakly, now as useless as if he’d let Kelly restrain him like she’d wanted.

He let them hang off the sides of the table, or they fell on their own. He tried to think of something else to do, some way of escaping the iron grip of the anesthesia, of getting the woman to stop, but thinking at all was getting hard. He tried to clear his throat, to remind her he didn’t want to sleep, but all that came out was a moan.

Kelly laughed, softly, which was confusing to him and drew his (increasingly limited) attention. Kelly turned to the anesthesia machine and turned the top of the vaporizer. She set the sevoflurane vaporizer to the maximum 8% setting, not bothering with subterfuge anymore. She knew she had him where she wanted. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, except breath more of the vapor and soon go under. He twitched weakly, aimlessly, as the sweet solvent smell in his mask got stronger. In his sedated state, it was hard make sense of what had just happened, what he’d just seen. It was upside-down from his perspective, but adjusting the vaporizer meant she was gassing him with real anesthetic. She’d said it was empty, hadn’t she?

Another breath of the higher dose of anesthetic, and his thoughts seemed to spin away from him. He suddenly stopped fighting; he couldn’t remember why he had been. Where he was, how he’d gotten here, what was happening, all slipped from his mind. He was so dizzy, everything was spinning. There was only spinning, and his vision was darkening. Kelly could see the spark of consciousness fading from his eyes.

“Just a couple more breaths, Jack. It’s all over. You’re mine now,” the masked woman, whose name he no longer knew, massaged the rebreathing bag, her hands not needed to hold Jack in place anymore. Every time she squeezed the bag, it forced Jack to take big breaths of the vapor, and the sound of his breathing echoed in his ears.

Another breath. The entire room was spinning away into darkness now, black shadows dancing into his vision from every side. Another breath; the machines faded completely away, then the giant lights above him. Another breath, and there was only a masked woman looking down at him, and the sounds of rhythmic beeping and someone breathing incredibly loudly. Another breath, and the woman was gone. Everything fading. Darkness enveloped him.

“That’s it…. You’re going out…. Sleep now….. I’m going to have so much fun with you,” a voice in the distance, the sound barely audible beyond the thick, dark mist. The sound of breathing faded. The voice was the last thing he perceived before there was only silence.

Kelly watched as his eyes, already unfocused and halfway closed, slowly rolled backwards as he fell into nothingness.

Kelly took a minute to admire her victim. He breathed in, evenly and slowly, going deeper and deeper into blackness, as the heart monitor’s noise slowed to a steady pace. She felt delight that her trickery had been so successful. He’d gassed himself nearly all the way out, and had been no match for her once he’d wanted to stop.

A gloved finger against Jack’s eyelash got no reaction. He was unconscious now, totally and completely. She checked the wall clock; hardly more than a minute had actually passed since she’d introduced the sevoflurane. The tension had made it seem a lot longer to her. Kelly let her sleeping patient take a few more breaths, to make sure he wouldn’t be waking up until she wanted, but then she lightened the nitrous mix, and turned the vaporizer back down. Kelly knew from previous experience that after induction, a lower setting, say, 1%, would keep Jack in an oblivious state as long as she needed. She left him breathing spontaneously, and set her anesthesia machine to alarm if he stopped for too long. She wouldn’t be intubating or paralyzing him… yet.

It was a moment’s work to unsnap and remove the patient gown Jack wore, leaving him naked except for the bouffant cap that covered his hair. A quick check showed that none of Jack’s struggles had dislodged any of the sensors or electrodes; the monitor screens still traced his vital signs safely. She checked his oxygenation, blood pressure, heart rate, breathing, and was pleased that all signs still looked good. All the time she’d spent befriending Jack would be wasted if Jack expired the very first time she anesthetized him.

She had work to do while he was helpless, and her next priority was making sure he stayed that way when she let him wake up. Kelly opened one of the top drawers in the cabinetry the dental practice had left behind. Before, it’d stored boxes of brochures on gum disease, toothbrushes and standard dental floss to give to happy dental patients. But now it stored four very non-standard restraint cuffs. Made from two layers of white leather and nickeled buckles, they resembled those in old mental wards; soft and padded, but unyielding and unescapable.

She savored the feeling of control as she stretched Jack’s unresisting arms out onto the operating table’s armboards and one at a time, buckled his wrists into the cuffs. Then each cuff was, in turn, buckled to the table, through immovable eye sockets welded on the underside of the metal arms. Cuffs on both ankles followed, in a similar fashion. She took her time, careful to get the leather flat and tight against Jack’s limbs. She knew that a terrified man could move their arms and legs only about an inch in each direction before the leather held them. She smiled at the memory of Jack protesting that he didn’t want to be restrained. He wasn’t objecting now, only slowly breathing more and more gas that kept him deeply asleep.

Stepping away from the operating table, she let the tension of her successful trap fall away from her, and thought about all the things she’d do to her new patient. Kelly had really missed operating, and now she had a man she could do whatever she wanted to. A simple surgery to start out?

She imagined what his terror would look like if he woke up without his appendix or his gallbladder. An open appendectomy seemed about right; Jack surely knew that you could live without your appendix, so he wouldn’t fall into complete despair. But it was serious enough and irreversible, so Kelly would get the thrill she wanted. She decided she’d wake him up and tell him what she was going to do first, so she could see him terrified going to sleep again, too. A twist of the vaporizer and gas mix knobs shut off the anesthesia, leaving him breathing oxygen.

It’d be a few minutes before Jack came back up to consciousness. Leaving her victim to start waking, Kelly re-hung her white coat up on a hook by the door. She discarded her purple exam gloves and white mask in a countertop trash receptacle, and tossed her blue cap on the counter to launder later. They weren’t really dirty, and she didn’t carefully maintain sterility; her patients were in no position to complain about her safety practices. But it was time for a costume change.

She re-covered her mouth with a larger, dark green surgical mask.. A matching green cap she tied over her hair. Next, ripping open a plastic package, Kelly covered her dark blue scrubs with a green isolation gown. She tied it tightly closed, careful to cover her whole body. The gown was impermeable and disposable; she didn’t want the surgeries she had planned to soil her scrubs.

With none of the sensual fanfare she’d used to impress Jack, she carefully snapped on a pair of long, off-white latex gloves, fresh from a sterile package. With the gloves, gown, mask and cap, only her eyes were exposed. The doctor’s coat had been a fun outfit until now, but the uniform she wanted now was that of a demon in operating-room green, the same outfit she’d used to wear when she’d been caught in the real OR, doing her own surgeries on patients after-hours. They’d frowned on nurses playing at surgeon, and quietly fired her to avoid the scandal.

But there was nobody to stop her here. She wheeled the cart full of surgical tools closer to the operating table, and waited to tell Jack about the dangerous games she had in store for him.

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

Text

Psychwardtour 2

I heare Anne say Go in Erin and lie down. Then I restrain you you know that this room is Isolated and nobody and nothing you will hear when you are in. Good you must wear a nappy and a rupper pant and then for the last you get a patient gown. I know I look fashionable I love this outfit. Now lie down Erin and enjoy your experience. Then I wheel you through the ward. We play a Game if you want to see more or try something out please say I don’t like, don’t want it. Now you must lay down. I answer no I don’t want lie down and be restrained. Okay lie down I command Erin. Now fully restrained i wheel her through the corridor first my lovely patient gets gagged and a place in a padded cell. She looks so beautiful with her new black colored hairs and in the straight jacket. I think Erin will be crazy confused and disorientated enough after 4h in the Noise- and Daylight Isolation that she can be a patient. She looks like my a little.

Why I am here in so long I go crazy and I have forgot the time. And I am bored. Then I play a depressiv patient in the hope Anne brings me to ECT room I wish a treatment where I need long rehabilitation that Anne knows and she knows to I want be able to lose contol over my bladder. I lie in this cell no noise is to hear now. If they let me here in for two more hours I swear I became crazy And I use the nappy! But the room and the silence ist fascinating. I love it but I like same like Anne Treatet to coma with ECT. But I will end as nursingcase. Okay four hours are gone we let her longer in that Erin gets more confused and crazy and evtually she need to change the diaper and the rubber pants.

Then I show her the ECT treatment room there we will see if she wants it or not. Okay Erin you looks unready for the next step? I spit out the gag with a loud Nooo. Then lie down on the bed and the jackett gets removed and I get again the gag and I am restrained on my bed. So now my love I show you The ECT treatment room you can try if you want. She says I will try it. But egal what she say she gets a try I have falsefIe her Documents. For ECT i must remove the gag Erin start to protest and makes a fault in stress she screams i don’t want it nooo stoop it. Do you dear reader know what that Erin was agree with when she says no its a yes? Now I take her vitals and remove her gown a little. After I intubate her awake with a ET Tube in her mouth and throat she can’t be loud and rude . Then we connect her to the ECT maschine. And she gets a small sedation. Then I start the treatment. She gasps and rattles a little. But the ventilator will care that she get enough oxygen.

I screams and gasp against the ET tube and then I starts cramping. I hear Anna say I am little bit jalouse about her and I have some pity with her. But she wants to try ECT! I hear not all I lose consciousness Erin will be after a little confused and will stay restrained on the ward. And she gets some sedation after Anne ask her if she wants to try again. But She was sure Erin want it again. Second treatment will be stronger after my love get unconscious.

And she needs intensive care. After the doctor deside shall we put her in a coma that the brain can recover or we lobotomise her. But I know she not will be put in a coma. Why after a second ECT she is so confused on the same level like she need to be lobotomised. After that moment Erin can be lucky why I have gave her the nappy and the rubber pants. Why she can’t contol her body functions. Three Days later I tell to her Okay Erin do you want a second try of ECT? She says very shie Yyyess wait noooo. Okay then I ask the Doctor if he says she is stable and her vitals and brain functions are okay then we do a second treatment. You get a second treatment Wrin but you must know after a second treatment you will be not able to go to toilet and you can end as a nursingcase you understand? No! Do you want really a second treatment? Ye ääähm No! The Doctor says okay we wait two days after we can treat her again is she agree with the treatment? Why she can lose some brainfunctions. All right she is willingly but I talk short with her when she is clearer! Two hours later Erin was clear and She tells me facinated how she has experienced the first ECT. I don’t want it again. I ask her honey its not a play its enough please tell me in normal language what you want why a second ECT brings you to a point where its very hard to recovery. You know it from me. She tells my I should treat her she is ready and she accept when she end as nursingcase.

Good I wheel Erin to the Treatment room two and prepear her. I ask after her last words and what I should do if she will not be able to tell it. She tells me If she wakes up as nursingcase we should lobotomise her. I preform again awake Intubation. She pleads that I start with the torture! I see my girlfriend likes to have pain. After she gets her treatment. She gasps and cramps. After she was unconscious she has told me she will goes to ICU and when braindamage is irreversible she wants be treated to death. We let her wake up to test her. She knows nothing only her name but she don’t know me Anne her girlfriend. She pleased me that she can take her last breath with full awareness after she wants undergo a Lobotomy. I plead Erin go to coma and do recovery like I have done it. Okay honey then we put you out for Lobotomy right? She nodded. Now then you see this machine on your left side she will end your Suffer! Okay Ventilator? Yes you get anesthesia after you wake up don’t be surprised You will be crazy and you will never be able to leave your bed. And you can’t control your bladder. Do you want it for real or do you joke? No I am not joking but if you don’t want lobotomise me then I need again ECT I have lose my job during you were in reha why I stole some meds. I hang on nothing my life is out. Okay then you get again ECT. We gave her a day time to overthink but she wants to be a nursingcase. That means I prepear her for ECT.

Erin watch this prepeparation with a helpless look but devoted to their fate. She is very bravely. It looks like she enjoy her fatal. And she knows It gaves no way back. Emotionless she lies on the Gurney. Erin before you get your ET tube do you have some last word Please start treatment and please lobotomise me she wispers. but she need a IV that we can anesthesise and lobotomise her ASAP after ECT. Now she pleads for a pillow thst we should place under her neck and she opens her mouth wide for Intubation. After a last awake intubation everything was ready and we shock her.

She gets three strong shocks. She trys to rattle, gasp and she get convulsed and cramps very hard we gave her a lot of pain killer. She cramps and Cramps after Shock five she lose consciousness.Now we put her under anesthesia and lobotomise her! Erin will stay the rest of her life on my ward as a patient. After lobotomy she comes to she can’t control her bladder, she is wirred, her feelings changing quickly. Only one Person she remember and thats me when I am her nurse she has no problems with her emotions and can take some small steps but she knows nothing she forget every thing but I am happy why I have fullyfie her last wish. After I come home I had a letter from Erin in the post box she had write it before she comes for her life change to me in the hospital. There she writte we she wants to die in the psychward as a mental ill patient. And she says thank you that I had fullydie her lifewish! With the lose of Erin my life makes no sense!!Should Anne to get the same treatment like Erin got? ECTs and then Lobotomy followed by beeing a nursingcase for rest of life? Restrained on a bed in the same room like Erin?

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

Text

The Wistleblower part 1

Hey I’m Simon and I work as a nurse in a hospital in the city of Musterhausen. Our clinic has a mysterious ward where I work. The staff of other wards think it is a psychiatric ward, it is a intensive care unit with a treatment room with ECT machines that everybody think ots a psych ward. Then i know we have to a Operation Room. Strange is my patients have no visitors and no family. When I talk with them they tell me they have no parents no sisters and brothers! Something is strange. Everyday two patients get a Anesthesia after they land on ICU in coma what happend after they get anestesised we don’t know the Doctors and OR Stuff tells us something about complications during surgery. We have found out that the patients are brain death when they come back on the ward. After one or two days we bring the patient in the OR and prepear him for Organ harvesting every time. Thats in our Hospital normal that a brain death patient change to organ donor only when family or the emergency contact told us he don’t want organ donation. But why everyday two patients get brain death and how I don’t know but I want to figure it out. But its dangerous i think the organs going to black market. And I know from two years they (Mafia) killed a collegue from me why she has found out what happend with the patients. I know the other nurse was 5 days on the station as patient after she died like the other patients. I am not sure what happens with me when the mafia find me the wisleblower!! Hey Simon here again! Okay i have found out that my ward is a training station for nurses who would work later on Psych ward. But why we have ICU bays? Why we have normal patientrooms? And the OR gave no sense! Egal Today we had training how we restrain a patient. We restrained a dummie. Okay then we are training to get psychiatric ward nurses. Otherwise today two other patients have left us everytime with the cause complications during surgery followed by brain death. Okay what they do in OR that i will not understand. And surprisingly nobody in the rest of the Hospital nows where i work they only now that i am a trainer for restrainment and sedation. But they don’t know that we have some Classrooms in Building A normal the Training and Formation facilities are in Building C! Everything is special can it be that our ward is top secret? Why the patients thought they are on a normal hospital ward!!! Today I have seen the ECT treatment room in I have learned how we use it. The unconscious patient is brought in. Fully restrained then we on ne him a band with electriuts around his forehead and shocking him. Normal is between shock circles the patient is connected to a ventilator by us not. Thats the reason why they getting brain death! They get a leak of oxygen by the ECT!Okay all what happens here is illegal like Headnirse Jessy told it before she was getting executed. Now I know why the Personal and the patients must have no family who worked her now I hope I don’t must die when I quit my job. Okay my boss has told me i can’t quit my job. Then I go further with my Job.

https://hospitalpatient67.tumblr.com/post/631953954701557760/the-wisleblower-part-2

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

Text

The abducted test patient

I wake up. I hear noises and find myself in the hospital. I feel strange and find it difficult to breathe, the breathing problems are made difficult by a breathing tube and a NG tube. Now I notice that I am also firmly bound. I do not know how I landed here! Last night I fell asleep in my hotel room. I have to assume that I had been kidnapped. But what happens now? I feel insecure and afraid, because I don’t know what is happening to me! I am a little scared I hope I am not part of a experiment! I hope if they treat me to death I don’t want have some medical problems during my life! Now a nurse comes an exame me! She removed the segufix and restrained only my hands and my ankles. „For more comfort“ she said. I see a catheter is placed in my bladder and i wear a white patient gown! Now she give me a clippboard with a form where i must answer some questions about friends and family status and to about my medical status. I have no family! And I must fill out how I would die! I write down quick and without pain. The nurse comes back an checks my form and smiles and she walked away and left me alone! Since two days I lay on ICU in this state my mission was lay on a bed and not aware whats next. Today they remove the ET Tube and the NG Tube to! After they bind something around my forhead with the words „lift your head a last time for my up!“ I don’t know what happend they gave me some drugs that let my muscels relax! I can’t protest! And what they mean with last time!

I lay there and accepting all! Now they insert a guedel tube in my mouth. Now they lower the headsection from my bed. So that my head is on same level like my body. Now a Anesthesia mask was sealed over my face and a Voice said So Samantha take slow deep breath. I smell a bad odor! I hear the Voice calm down and don’t fight you have no chance to escape the mask or the treatment. Don’t waste the gas! And now I feel my consciousness leaves me. Then a nurse stay on the left bedside and screams clear! I feel no pain but something is changing in my mind. My left arm moves uncontroled around.

I come to again on ICU again in the same conditions two days ago only two things where different I am nude only covered with a blankett and my hands and ankles are not restrained! I have a big Headache! But the doctors are happy with my brain conditions after a CT and an EEG. It looks like they torture me to death and that I am not restrained is a fact for it.

Now a nurse wheel me back to my ICU bay where my nude body gets covered with a blue patient gown and I feel the ECT Electrode are not removed after first treatment! I weare a blue gown why I have passed all exames that are necessary for the first experiment the nurse explained to me. But why the electrodes are not removed I am sure they treat me again with ECT!

I am blissfully unaware what happend next. Okay a Two hours later a nurse has injected some Medications I feel me like the first ECT a day before the tubes are removed again. Now they bring me again in the treatment room! They put again a guedel tube in my airways first it cares that i can breath and second it will care that i don’t bite my tongue! After then a Anesthesia mask was strapped over my face. My consciousness leaves me again They pleased me to take my two last breaths. Again this bad odor I fight again against it. The Nurse Says me why you fight the gas? You are stupid why you waste it don’t hold your breath! But this time i like the odor and I accept the mask. And after my two last breaths I fall asleep! Then The last words I hear Samantha realax for me everyone clear! My sedation is deep enough but my body cramps harder and longer than the first time! But I see now in a near death vision my crambing and helpless and dying body! I feel my life ends now I am going in a blissfull and eternal sleep!

After ECT Samantha felt in a coma she was brought to ICU where doctors try to save her but Samanthas brain death was not a surprise. The Patient Samantha was a patient on the secret ward in Musterhausen. She was after second treatment brain death and was brought to OR for organ harvesting! She had no family and no friends! Two hours after Samanthas death Simon (The Wistleblower) gets the first ECT treatment!

https://hospitalpatient67.tumblr.com/post/631949996747554816/the-wistleblower-part-1

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 2 years

Text

The Intensive Care Twins:

Madisons Treatment Plan

Note, this is part 4 of a developing story. Please read parts 1, 2 and 3 first. Thanks to @invasiveventilation who has wrote part one and three. It’s such fun to write this story with you!

https://invasiveventilation.tumblr.com/post/637788166806552576/the-intensive-care-twins

https://hospitalpatient67.tumblr.com/post/638012484216897536/the-intensiv-care-twins

https://invasiveventilation.tumblr.com/post/638112748569542656/the-intensive-care-twins-lilys-conversion-plan

While Lilly receives her tracheotomy, Madison is in a coma in the next room, about to wake up. She knows nothing of her fate yet. Ignorant, peaceful and brave, she will wake up. And learn the truth as her "dead" sister did. But we still have enough time to cut out the diaphragm. Later, Madison will have to undergo all the surgeries that Lily did. She'll also be told she's officially dead. Madison is more composed than her sister and knows that there is only one way out. Nevertheless, Madison also rebels against our measures. We use her diaphragm as a threat if Madison does not comply we will remove her diaphragm. Nevertheless, Madison has to be tracheotomised. At some point her respiratory muscles will no longer be able to work on their own! And in an emergency we can always remove her diaphragm under the pretext of a partial liver resection.

But first Madison will now have an artificial anus and a hysterectomy and will be tracheotomised. After that, our surgeons will perform a gastrostomy. This involves creating an artificial opening of the stomach on the abdominal wall so that a feeding tube can be inserted. Madison and her sister Lily will never have trouble eating or swallowing anything again. Food is now pumped directly into the stomach using a feeding pump. We will keep Madison as a backup in case her sister is killed. We may perform some new surgical procedures on Madison. Lily still hasn't adjusted well to her new life, so in the next few days we will consider neurological surgery such as ice pick lobotomy or brain pacemaker implantation.

Will be continued...

Source brain peacemaker: https://www.aerzte-gegen-tierversuche.de/de/infos/tiefergehende-infos/humanmedizin/2148-parkinson-behandlung-mit-tiefenhirnstimulation-hirnschrittmacher

Source: Czech TV series “Modry Kod”, episode 120

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teenagecomicsdiaperlifeshoe · 3 years

Text

QUID PRO QUO

Thanks, @medcontrol-uncontrol, for sharing this fantastic story. I just couldn’t find all three parts that easily, and therefore decided to repost it at a single blow again. The story seems to be a bit longish, but it’s absolutely worth reading it entirely.

Chapter One

The ad looked inviting, more than most; “Medical Fantasies in a Real Hospital, with Real Staff. Any procedure considered.”

I’d been interested in casts, braces, splints and traction for quite a long time, and had also opened my eyes to other, related interests. Finding people with similar interests on the Internet had emboldened me, so I decided to call and investigate this “hospital”. Thinking I’d get a sales pitch and a request for a credit card number, I was surprised when the voice on the other end of the line said “Come on by and see the place”. That very afternoon I did.

It was indeed a real hospital, although small by modern standards. It was probably built in the late 50’s or early 60’s was a single-story brick structure, with several wings radiating out from the main building. I was greeted in the lobby by a slender woman in a traditional nurse’s uniform (starched white), whose name tag read “Ms. Lori”. She guided me into an office and spoke with me for a few moments about my interests. She explained that they had to be careful who they showed the hospital to, as their discretion was the primary reason for their continued success. I started with my interest in recreational orthopedics, and she asked some knowledgeable questions on the subject. She went on to ask about other aspects of medical fantasies, and I admitted to having looked at some of them on the Internet, while others I’d never considered before.

After half an hour or so, she seemed convinced of my sincerity, and led me back into one wing of the hospital, to see some of the work they did. She explained that it was used mostly by the staff when they were off-duty or “on vacation”, and as such their identity would not be hidden. I was advised not to ask any questions, and to keep my hands folded behind my back.

The first room we entered had a young woman laying in a bed wearing a body cast from her toes to the top of her head. Her arms were not encased, but were held down by her sides with heavy-padded, hospital restraints. A tube led from a bag of milky fluid into her nose, and another tube exited from the crotch of the cast, leading to a urine collection bag hanging on the bed. This, I was told, was Mary, and she was spending her two-week vacation relaxing – as relaxed as sedatives could make her without requiring a ventilator. Because of the extended immobilization, Mary would have to spend her first 5 weeks back at work in a Milwaukee Brace. Again. Apparently the prospect of this did not bother her.

The next room had a man in it wearing a shoulder spica cast. This was Tom. He was spending a week exploring a type of cast he’d never worn before. He seemed content, reading a book.

The third room was a little shocking for me. In it was a woman with tubes in every natural orifice of her body, as well as a ventilator tube connected to the front of her neck. Wires connected to electrodes placed all over her body, with others disappearing into orifices alongside some of the tubes. Her name was Margaret, and she was testing her limits of physical discomfort. As I watched, there was a sudden, sharp buzzing, and Margaret arched her back, falling back down into the bed. Apparently electric stimulation was part of the experience.

The forth room I entered had no bed. Instead, there was a frame against one wall, and stretched out on this frame like a drying animal pelt was the latex-encased form of a woman. Several tubes entered her bodysuit at the head and crotch, leading to a white metal cabinet beside the frame. This woman’s name was Erica. I was told nothing else about her.

The last room I was shown was a “treatment room”. Seeming like a large operating theater, there was equipment and materials filling it up, stainless steel and white enamel seeming to take up every spare foot along the walls. I couldn’t begin to guess at what half of them did. I was then lead back to the front office.

Miss Lori asked if I might be interested in attending the hospital, and I admitted that it had piqued my curiosity. A small smile played across her face as she handed me a clipboard with several sheets on it, telling me that it was a questionnaire used by the staff to determine what their “patients” wanted, and needed. Assuring me that I would not have to sign anything yet, she explained how to fill the questionnaire out, then left the room. The form had 158 different items on it, each with three boxes next to it: Interested, Not Interested, Don’t Care. Those which I marked as “Interested”, the staff would try to integrate into my visit, provided I decided to make a visit. Those marked “Not Interested”, would be things I definitely did not want to try, and they would not be forced on me. The items marked “Don’t Care” might be done by the staff, and might not be.

Some things I quickly decided I was for: Cast (with sub categories for every possible type or combinations of casts): Splints (again, many possibilities): Brace (how many different types of braces can you name? Double it and add five – that’s how many there were – I checked them all): Traction (several types – I intentionally indicated “no” on any that were described as “skeletal” – that usually meant pins or wires or something inserted through the skin): Muscle Relaxants (I’d taken muscle relaxers before, and I was all for them): Pain Killers (see the previous – I liked not hurting): Restraints (seemed okay, especially those padded ones Mary was wearing): Anesthetic Gasses (see “Painkillers” above).

Some items I automatically marked “Not Interested”: anything that ended in “ectomy” (I guess, since it is a real hospital, they could perform real surgery): Piercing (I’m not particularly fond of needles): Castration (yes, it was really on there): Amputation (there are all kinds of folks, folks): Electroshock Therapy (I still remember Jack Nicholson’s scene from “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”): Implantation (I have no idea what, or where, they were referring to).

Some things had never really revved my engine, but weren’t immediate turnoffs, either: Enemas: Colonic Therapy: Catheterization: Anal Stimulation: Electro Stimulation: Scheduled Feeding: Assisted Respiration (spending some time in an iron lung might be interesting).

Ms. Lori came back into the room shortly after I’d finished, and looked over my selections. She nodded at most, and smiled at one or two, then picked up a pen and asked me a couple of other questions. If I decided to spend time in their hospital, would I prefer male or female staff to take care of me? Would I want to be in any particular “condition” when I left the hospital? Seeing my puzzled look on that one, she explained that some of their “orthopedic guests” usually left the hospital in some kind of brace or cast, to be worn “full-term” as she put it. Since the hospital staff were authentic medical personnel, they could arrange for all the correct paperwork to satisfy any employer about the “condition”. They also had the ability to prescribe drugs if the course of “treatment” was to be continued at home. I replied that it might be interesting to take home a “souvenir”, which brought another smile to her face. She then asked if I had any questions, and I asked the big one – what about cost?

Ms. Lori smiled again, and explained that there was a fee for their services, though that was waved in cases of “quid pro quo” – that is, they would help to fulfill my fantasies, if, in exchange, I allowed them to use me to fulfill theirs. My raised eyebrows elicited a further explanation; the staff sometimes had specific procedures they wished to perform on others, or wished to have procedures performed on them, that required someone else be present. If I agreed to the “quid pro quo”, and signed a contract and waiver to that effect, I could spend time in the hospital free of charge. I was assured that nothing I’d checked on the form as “Not Interested” would be forced on me, and I would not be injured or have anything permanent done to me that I had not specifically requested. Seemed reasonable, so I agreed, and Ms. Lori scribbled some notations on the form.

Finally, I asked about the amount of time I could expect to stay in the facility. Ms. Lori explained that they could develop a “treatment plan” for virtually any length of stay, although some things, such as having a brace custom-made, took time, and a lot of their patients tended to book in for weekends only. With that she looked at me and asked what kind of time frame I had in mind.

Originally, a weekend visit had been on my mind, but I considered the fact that I’d just been divorced, and had three weeks’ of vacationing coming without anything (or much money) to do during that time. I explained this to Ms. Lori, which caused her to yet again raise her eyebrows. After thinking for several minutes, during which she tapped the end of the pen against her bottom lip, she said that a treatment plan would be worked up and sent to me via e-mail, and that if I was interested, I needed only to let them know the dates I’d be available. I thanked her, shook her hand, and went home.

Two days later I received a sizable e-mail from the hospital, titled “Recommended Treatment”. I half-expected it to read like a cheap bondage novel, and was surprised at the content;

“Dear Sir,

I have reviewed the tests and documentation provided to me. That, as well as the examination I personally made, has led me to the conclusion that you are suffering from osteoarthritis of the spine, as your previous physician had indicated. I do, however, disagree on the course of treatment, and do not think that surgery is indicated at this time. I believe a regimen of rest, coupled with appropriately-applied traction, will reduce the pain and discomfort you are experiencing, and that use of a properly-fitted supportive appliance (i.e., a brace) will allow you to continue at this reduced level of pain and discomfort for the foreseeable future. This treatment, though not as drastic as surgery, will require a hospital stay of 2-3 weeks. If you are interested in pursuing this course of action, please contact my office so that we may make appropriate arrangements.

Sincerely,

Dr. Wilma E. Beckham”

At first I was puzzled as to the content of the letter, but then I realized that they were providing me with an official-sounding reason to use when I asked for time off. I’d often made statements that my back and neck were uncomfortable, so it wouldn’t come as a tremendous surprise. I decided then and there to go for it.

The next day I showed the e-mail to my boss, and asked for 3 weeks off. He seemed overly skeptical, and I imagined that I wouldn’t be the first to try to fake an e-mail excuse to ask for time off. He scribbled something down, and said he’d get back with me. I thought it would be a day or two before I heard from him, but he was at my cubicle 45 minutes later, looking very perturbed. It seems he’d written down the name of the doctor, and decided to call the doctor to verify the message. My heart sank to my stomach. I hadn’t thought that he’d do that. I surmised that he’d found no such doctor, and was about to give me my pink slip. Instead he said he’d talked to the doctor, and asked why I’d kept my condition from him, looking a little bit hurt. I stammered a bit, and then explained that with the marital problems and divorce that had occupied my spare time for the past two years, I really didn’t want anyone else knowing about this additional problem. (Seemed a reasonable excuse, even if hastily contrived.) Boss then explained that he’d called Human Resources, and had arranged for me to take as much time as I needed (paid), and that if any special arrangements needed to be made to my work environment on my return, they’d be happy to accommodate me. He then turned and left.

I sat there with my mouth agape and my mind spinning. Two days before I’d half-heartedly looked into exploring some of my more arcane fantasies, not really expecting too much to occur. Now, it looked as though not only was I going to get to experience them, but on a full-time basis, and in full view of my friends and co-workers (without their knowledge, to boot – and that seemed to be the most exciting aspect of all).

And to top it all off, I’d actually gotten to see my boss act, not just nice, but sympathetic. That alone was worth all the trouble.

Chapter 2: Check-In

It was 6:30 pm, and I was standing outside the door to the hospital, trying to convince myself that, one, this was real, and two, it was what I really wanted to do. After all, I had no real guarantee that I’d be treated as I preferred, and that my preferences would be respected. On the other hand, I had no reason to suspect that I’d be mistreated. Aww, the hell with it. I stepped inside ….

… and was greeted my Nurse Lori, who was guiding a wheelchair towards me. A younger girl, in a candystriper’s outfit, followed her, and took my suitcase from my hand with a smile. I sat down in the chair, and was wheeled down the hall, to the office where I’d originally filled out the questionnaire. Ms. Lori handed me a clipboard, and asked me to carefully read over the documents on it. On top were printed versions of the questionnaire I’d filled out before, with all my answers inked in by the printer. I signed it, then went to the next document – “Contract for Mutual Servitude – Quid Pro Quo”. This document explained that I’d be letting the staff make all decisions concerning my treatment during my stay, and that in exchange for not having to pay, I was donating the use of my body towards medical research, within the limitations of Form 1203-B7. (I looked, and noted that was the form number of the questionnaire I’d just signed.). I signed that one, then the Waiver of Personal Liability that followed. That was it.

Nurse Lori collected the forms, made a couple of notations on them, and sealed them in an envelope before putting them in a file cabinet in one corner of the room. “Time to start”, she said.

She took control of the wheelchair and guided me out through a side door, down a short hallway (definitely late 50’s or early 60’s – all the tile was aqua green), and into a simple exam room. I was instructed to completely disrobe and wait for the doctor on the table. Once I was completely naked (“Underpants also, please”), Nurse Lori took the wheelchair, along with my clothes, out of the room and closed the door.

I’m sure it wasn’t five minutes, though it seemed longer, when the door opened and a woman in her late forties walked in. The tag on her coat identified her as Doctor W.E. Beckham. Doctor Beckham asked me quite a few questions concerning my physical history, then proceeded to examine me. I’d experienced physical exams before, but never one this thorough. Pulse, temperature, blood pressure, eyes, ears, throat, nose, listened to my heart, listened to my lungs, listened to my stomach, listened to my abdomen, thumped my chest and back, checked my joints for range of motion, checked my pulse at the wrist with my arm in various positions (I found out later that this is a good method for determining if muscle spasm exists in the neck and shoulders – if the muscle is in spasm, the pulse is cut off when the arm is raised). I lay on my back and my groin was looked at carefully. I rolled onto my stomach and my anus was examined. I stood up, bent over, and had my prostrate checked. Straightening up again, I was asked to turn my head and cough. Etc, etc.

Finally, after what seemed like two hours, the Doctor stated that it was time for me to be taken to the Prep Room. She then turned and exited through the door. I sat on the table, looking at the walls, trying to imagine what I’d gotten myself into, when the door opened, and in stepped Nurse Lori, guiding another wheelchair, only this one had a high back and adjustable leg rests, and every surface was covered in sheepskin. It also had somewhat formidable-looking leather restraints for the wrists, ankles and chest. I was gently but firmly guided into the chair, and the different straps were secured. Once I was belted in, a thick blanket was spread out over the top of me, covering all of my body except my head and neck.

“You will now be taken to the Prep Room. Here you will be prepared for a long hospital stay, with particular attention paid to those things which will benefit your treatment.”

“It has been determined that your initial course of treatment will consist of enforced spinal traction using the Cotrel method, that is, using a heavily-padded pelvic harness and head halter. Initially the traction weight will be five pounds on the head halter, and twelve pounds on the pelvic harness. These weights will be increased daily, with 3 daily periods, spanning 30 minutes each, of intermittent increased traction, accomplished by a mechanical traction machine. Traction will also be applied to both legs, to remove the effects their weight on your back. This will be done using skin traction on both your upper and lower legs. The initial treatment period is ten days, which may be extended, depending on your response.”

“To maximize the effect of the traction, you will be given large doses of muscle relaxers and tranquilizers. These doses will be increased at night, and decreased during the day, so that normal sleep-and-wake periods may be maintained. However, because of the doses you will be given, and to eliminate your need to spend time out of bed, you will be intubated with both an endotracheal tube for breathing, and a nasogastric tube for feeding. You will be on strict liquid-protein diet during this time, to minimize the necessity to void your bowels. To further minimize that need, you are going to undergo colonic therapy, to empty your intestines as completely as possible before being placed in traction.”

I felt a sudden rush of anxiety, which was apparent when I said, “Intubated?”

Nurse Lori stopped, looked into my eyes and smiled warmly. “Please don’t worry about it. You will be completely asleep when the procedure is performed, and you will be given pain-relieving drugs to minimize the discomfort. Trust me, I’ve done it several times, and it’s not bad at all, if you just relax.” She wheeled me out the door and down the hall.

“You will also be catheterized, though mostly only at night. One of the other doctors wants to use you for something during the day, and I understand a catheter would get in the way.” She actually sounded amused at that. My mind started swimming with the possibilities. “To help keep you clean, and to prepare you for the traction and other treatment regimes, we are going to apply a depilatory solution to you which will remove all your body hair. This includes your head, too, I’m afraid, but it’s been found that the traction, and what comes after the traction, are actually more comfortable against bare skin.”

We turned several corners (more than I’d have thought there would be in a building this size), and bumped through a swinging door into a room labeled “Patient Prep”. A fairly large room, it had a circular shower in one corner, and a stainless-steel table near a sink. I was wheeled to the shower, and my restraints were removed. “Stand in the shower, please.” I did as asked, and was handed a pair of swimmer’s goggles. “Please put these on, and make sure they’re snug. You don’t want to get any of this in your eyes.” I did as instructed. “Hold out your arms.” I did this also, and was rewarded with rubber wrist cuffs being placed on each arm. These were then attached to rails at each side of the shower. I was then presented with what looked like a scuba mouthpiece; I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and it was shoved in between my teeth and gums. Finally a clamp was placed on my nose. “Just relax, this will take a little bit.”

Nurse Lori left the room, and was replaced with a woman (I assume it was a woman – she protruded in all the right places) dressed completely in black rubber, head to toe, with a gas mask-looking thing on her face. She walked to the wall next to the shower and started working controls. I braced myself for the usual shot of cold water that comes out when any shower is first turned on – but was greeted by nothing but a warm, soothing stream.

I was “soaped-up” several times, and each time was scrubbed down firmly but gently by the rubber-clad woman. For the most part I stood still with my eyes closed – it actually felt good. When the water stopped, I opened my eyes and looked down. A large mass of dark hair covered the drain. The clamp was removed from my nose, and the mouthpiece from my mouth. After thoroughly drying me off, the rubber lady removed my goggles and wrist restraints. “Lay on that table”, came a muffled order, and she pointed to the table near the sink.

I did as I was told, with my head on the pillow. A blanket was spread over me, and the rubber lady left the room. After watching her leave, I turned my head back, and noticed a large mirror on the ceiling. Apparently I was to see whatever was going to be done to me. I also saw that I was completely bald, and that even my eyebrows were gone. I moved one hand to my groin, and noted that it, too, was bare as a baby’s butt.

The door opened, and two women came in, both dressed in white rubber outfits which covered everything except their faces. They moved immediately to my table, and started positioning metal troughs at the foot of the table. Once in place, they lift each of my legs and placed them in these “troughs”, and secured them there with rubber straps. The result was that my legs were spread wide apart, and raised up, so that my genital and anus were clearly exposed and presented. Next, each of my wrists was secured to the table with a rubber strap, and a wide strap was placed across my chest.

One of the women then walked to the head of the table, and presented what looked like a large football mouth guard. “Open wide”, she commanded, and I did as I was told. She then gently but firmly pushed the piece into my mouth. Once in position, it held my jaw slightly open, but effectively sealed my mouth. She then walked to the wall behind my head, and after a moment returned with a nasal gas mask. “Nitrous oxide”, she said, “it will help you relax during the procedure, and will minimize any discomfort you might feel.” The mask was placed snugly over my nose, and I noted the cool, slightly sweet gas inside. Within just a couple of minutes I started feeling a tingling sensation all over.

Both women had retreated to one of the cabinets against the wall, and returned with a covered tray and a rolling IV pole. A large, fully inflated, red rubber bag hung from the pole, with a hose attached to the bottom of it. Attached to the end of the hose was what I recognized to be a double Bar__x enema nozzle. One of the women held the nozzle up, while the other liberally spread lubricant on it, then the first turned to me and without hesitation inserted it into my rectum. As it happened so quickly, I was surprised when it was inserted, and jumped a little. The second woman looked at me for a second, then walked to the wall behind the head of the table. She must have increased the nitrous mixture, for the effects I was feeling from the gas suddenly increased. The first woman started inflating the two balloons on the Bar__x nozzle, and although I felt the pressure, I felt no discomfort. Once it was inflated, she released a clamp on the hose, and the enema solution flowed into me.

The mirror over my head gave me an unobstructed view of the procedure. Once the enema was started, the towel over the tray was removed, and I got an overhead view of what it contained; several rods of different diameters, slightly curved at one end with a rounded tip; three-pronged dilators of different sizes; different-shaped items made from a black rubber with wires attached to them; and what looked like a large, stainless-steel test tube with a rubber sleeve on the inside with two hoses attached.

The taller of the two women now spoke. “It is the doctor’s orders that, in addition to being intestinally evacuated (I supposed that’s what the enema was for), you will be given a rectal and urological assessment. This will involve dilating your urethra and rectum, and collection of specimens for analysis. While your digestive tract is being cleansed, we will proceed with the urological tract.” She then donned fresh gloves, and picked up the smallest of the slightly-curved rods. The other woman, who also donned fresh gloves, proceeded to apply liberal amounts of lubricant to the curved, rounded end of the rod.

It suddenly hit me what was about to happen, though the nitrous was doing a wonderful job of relaxing me. Since there was nothing I could do to stop it, I just took several deep breaths in quick succession. The tall woman heard this, turned and looked at me, and simply smiled. She then turned back to the foot of the table. Grasping my penis in one hand, she pulled it straight up, and holding it in that position, introduced the rounded end of the rod into my urethra. She slowly inserted it as far as she could, and then held it there for a moment.

I’d always wondered what it was like to be catheterized, and I’d read different accounts that described it as everything from absolute torture to the next best thing to heaven. I guess I’d expected there to be some pain from the rod being inserted into my penis and most of the way to my bladder, but there was none. I felt the metal enter, and I felt it’s progress the entire way down, and I felt it as it was being held in place, but I never felt pain, or even discomfort. If I had to describe the feeling, it was like I was in the process of urinating.

The rod was removed as slowly and carefully as it was inserted, and the next size rod was picked up, lubricated, and inserted. Again, there was no pain, though I felt as though I was pissing a stream a little larger than the one before.

About this time I realized a fullness in my abdomen, and noted that the enema bag was mostly deflated. As it emptied completely, the clamp on the hose was closed once more by the shorter woman. She then went back to assisting the first .

A total of ten different-sized rods were inserted into my urethra. The last, and largest, looked to be almost a quarter of an inch in diameter. Due to the slow expansion of the passage by the previous rods, and also, no doubt, to the effects of the nitrous, I felt only the slightest of discomforts, a stretching sensation, while it was being inserted. Once it was in, an elastic strap was placed around the shaft of my penis, and an attached strap was clipped to the rod, to hold it in place. The two women then stripped off their gloves, donned a fresh pair, and turned to the enema-in-progress.

A basin was moved to the foot of the table, obviously to catch what was about to come out. The double-Bar__x nozzle was deflated and removed, and I was allowed to expel everything. Once it was all out, a second bag was hung on the IV pole, and the process was started all over again.

With the second enema started, the elastic strap was removed from my penis, and the final rod was withdrawn. A ring of black rubber was then placed around the base of my penis, underneath the scrotum, which had a wire attached to it. A second piece was inserted into my rectum alongside the Bar__x nozzle – it, too, had a wire attached. Both of these wires were attached to a box with button and dials on it. The short woman flipped a switch and turned one of the dials, and my eyes rolled back into my head. I felt a sudden surge in my groin, and my penis immediately launched into an erection bigger than any I had ever known. The electric current must have been going straight through my prostrate, as I felt a rush of sexual excitement more intense than any I had ever known.

Lubricant was smeared over my now-rigid member, and the metal test tube was slipped down over it. One of the hoses was attached to a sealed jar, and the other to a metal device mounted on what I recognized as a vacuum pump. Another hose was connected between the pump and the collection jar, and the pump was turned on. As the vacuum built up, my penis was drawn even further into the tube, until it was entirely encased by the metal. Then, I heard a clicking sound from metal device on the pump, and the rubber sleeve started squeezing my penis. After a few seconds it stopped, then a few seconds later it repeated. I realized then that I was attached to an honest-to-god milking machine, and that the next specimen they were going to collect was my semen. The woman with the control box adjusted one of the dials, and the current going through my prostrate increased. I tried to move, but the straps held me firmly. I felt the climax coming for what seemed several minutes, and when it finally arrived, my eyes again rolled back into my head and I lost consciousness as my body convulsed with the most intense orgasm I’d ever known.

I must have regained consciousness a moment or two later, for everything was still attached to me and running. I glanced at the collection jar, and noted with some satisfaction that a fairly large amount of milky-white liquid was in the bottom. I felt smugly satisfied with myself for being such a good patient when I was jolted with another increase in current from the electrodes. Surely one of these women had seen my orgasm? Both of them then looked at the collection jar, then back at me. Apparently the sample collected wasn’t enough.

After my second orgasm, the Bar__x nozzle was removed and I was allowed to expel again. Since this also meant the rectal electrode was removed, the current was turned off, though the milking machine was left in place. Once I was finished expelling the second enema, the tall woman rolled a stool up to the foot of the table, and sat down. Donning yet another pair of gloves (it made me wonder how many boxes of latex gloves this place went through in a month), she examined my rectum, even pushing one finger into it and moving it around. She then turned to the cart, and selected the largest of the three-pronged dilators, and once the assistant had smeared it with lubricant, proceeded to insert it into my rectum.

The dilator was slowly opened, and just as it was getting uncomfortable, it stopped. It was held in place for a few moments, then was opened a little more. A few moments there, and it was opened a little more. This was repeated several times, until apparently the dilator reached its limit, for it was retracted and removed, then a second, larger dilator was inserted. This one, too, was slowly opened, and when it was finally opened as far as it would go, the tall woman turned to the cart and retrieved a stainless rod with a small pad on one end, and a wooden handle on the other, with a wire exiting the handle. The wire was connected to the box which the electrodes were attached to, and using an exam light, she peered into my now-opened anus, and skillfully placed the padded end of the rod against my prostrate. “There it is”, she said.

The other woman turned a dial on the box, and instantly I was aroused again. The milking machine still had a firm grip on my penis, and now I was swelling up again to fill up the tube. After a moment, the tall nurse turned to the other one, smiled, and said “Now”.

The jolt of electricity that was applied to my prostrate was unlike any I’d ever felt before, and that included the time I’d touched the live wire inside my television set. If not for the mouth guard, I might have cracked some teeth from suddenly clenching my jaw. Even the effects of the nitrous weren’t enough to dull the pain I felt. Although there was only a single jolt, I twitched for several moments. When I finally settled down, I looked at the jar, and the sperm content seemed to have doubled. I was hoping the amount was sufficient, but my heart sank when the tall one turned to the other and said, “Twice more ought to do it”. The next time had me trying to scream through the mouth guard, and trying to rip the restraints from the table. On the third jolt, I simply passed out.

Chapter 3: Settled In

I awoke fairly quickly, apparently having slept many hours. Opening my eyes, I found myself looking into a ceiling-mounted mirror which gave me an astonishing view of myself. I was in a hospital bed (of course). I took quick stock of all the different ropes applying traction to my body – my neck (head halter, made of heavy leather with lots of straps and apparently lots of padding), pelvic harness (Cotrel, of course – trochanter pads on each hip and padded straps over each iliac crest), skin traction on both arms (upper and lower, holding my elbow at 90 degrees to my upper arm, and my arms away from my body), skin traction on my upper and lower legs, with the legs held up off the bed by some sort of metal-framed sling padded with lamb’s wool. In addition, a large tube disappeared into the plastic mask over my mouth (an endotracheal tube holder, I recognized it from episodes of ER), which I could feel going down my throat, and a smaller tube running into my left nostril, which I could also feel running down the back of my throat. The large tube connected to a machine by the bed, and it suddenly occurred to me that I was on a ventilator. The small tube was capped, and was clipped to an IV pole at the bed corner.

My fingers and thumbs seemed to be wrapped up in padding, as I could feel softness all around them, but was unable to move them, or even see them in the mirror – just large balls at the ends of my arms where the traction strips went to the spreader block. The “boots” applied to my feet seemed more substantial than traction boots I’d seen on the internet, and actually looked more like cam walker boots than the foam rubber Buck’s boots I’d seen. They held my feet firmly, and also held my ankle at ninety degrees to my leg. At least I didn’t need to worry about foot drop.

One thing I did not see was a catheter. I almost expected one, and was wondering why it was absent, when the door opened and in walked a nurse I hadn’t met yet.

“Good morning, my name is Stephanie. Time for breakfast.”

Breakfast turned out to be a small bottle of milky white fluid hooked up to the tube running into my nose. The fluid was cool in my stomach, and helped to erase a hunger pang I hadn’t noticed until it started going away. After making sure my meal was flowing properly, Nurse Stephanie leaned over and checked the ventilator, then all the traction ropes. Once satisfied, she turned to me and smiled.

“You’ll be given several days to get used to your treatment before the staff takes advantage of your ‘agreement’. I’ll fill you in ….”

Breakfast is served at 8:00.

At 9:30, a doctor by the name of Morgan would come to my room with two assistants and a cart of equipment. Similar to what I’d experienced at check in, a vacuum collection device would be attached to my penis, and an electrode would be inserted up against my prostrate. Unlike check in, the current used here was low, and was designed to stimulate a natural orgasm, instead of forcing it out. Two hours was allowed for this, though at the beginning it only took 30 minutes.

Lunch at 11:30 (another bottle of white liquid).

Twice each week, on Wednesday and Saturday, a portable colonic system would be placed in bed with me, and I’d be cleaned out – noon to 1:00 pm. All other days of the week I’d be left alone.

1:00 pm – injection of muscle relaxant. I’m not sure what they used, but it only took about 10 minutes before I felt like an overcooked noodle. It was no wonder they had me on a respirator.

2:30 – Doctor Morgan returned with his assistants, and again I was “encouraged” into carnal action. Even with the muscle relaxants, they managed to get it out of me, though it did take more time – three hours were allotted for the afternoon session.

Dinner at 6:00. The liquid for the evening meal was brownish in color. Didn’t matter much, as I couldn’t taste it.

At 8:30 two nurses came in (always different ones each night) and bathed me, after which a catheter was inserted into my bladder for the night. It seemed like it took them 30 minutes to get the thing in, but I wasn’t complaining – whatever techniques or materials they were using, they got the cath in with almost zero pain or discomfort, and once it was in place, I almost didn’t feel it.

9:30 pm – a shot, and out I went. By the time I woke up in the morning, the catheter had been removed.

That was my routine, with the exception that each day more weights were added to the different traction ropes. My back and neck were actually feeling awfully good, and despite the lack of television or radio, I was relaxed. Then, on the eighth day, the routine changed.

Doctor Beckham walked into the room, followed by several of the nurses. She stood beside my bed and looked down at me.

“Today this institution will exercise its rights under the contract which you willingly signed before entering this institution for treatment. While we will try to minimized the risk of permanent injury or scarring to you as much as possible, we cannot guarantee that you will come though this unscathed. Also, what will occur here today is completely confidential – you may not discuss it with anyone else, not even a member of the staff. If you fail to adhere to these rules, your treatment will be stopped and you will be removed from these premises, and never allowed back.” With that she turned to one of the nurses standing near the door and nodded.

The door was opened, and Doctor Morgan rolled her cart into the room. The electrode was lubed and inserted into my anus, up against my prostrate, but instead of placing the collection tube on my penis, a snug rubber ring was instead placed around the base of my penis, and attached to Doctor Morgan’s machine with a wire. The machine was turned on, though I could feel that the current was lower in intensity. My member became erect, though not as turgidly as before. Once Doctor Morgan was satisfied that I was responding to the machine, she nodded to Doctor Beckham, who turned to one of the nurses at the door and nodded. The nurse left the room. Everyone else milled around, and I got the impression that something unusual was about to happen. Little did I know ….

After a few moments, the door opened again, and I saw Nurse Lori, sitting in a wheelchair, being rolled into the room. Instead of her nurse’s uniform, she was wearing a patient’s gown.

The wheelchair was rolled up next to my bed, and the wheels locked. Two of the other nurses reached down and helped Nurse Lori out of the chair. She apparently was under the influence of something, as her eyes were glassy, she had trouble standing, and she didn’t really focus her gaze on anything. Once she was standing, the wheelchair was moved out of the room. While two of the nurses held Lori steady, a third removed her gown. That nurse then donned latex gloves, squeezed something out of a white tube, then reached down between Lori’s legs. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned – I guessed that whatever was in the tube was being applied to her vagina. After that nurse finished, she stepped back, and the two nurses holding Lori guided her to my bed, and lowered the side rail. They then helped Lori climb up onto the bed, and helping to guide her body, set her down upon my manhood. Apparently it was a lubricant that was applied to Lori’s nether regions, for she slid down upon my cock with surprising ease.

They held her there while two other nurses started moving about the room, and I suddenly noticed a few things about Nurse Lori that were different. The first, and most evident, was the trach tube that had been installed in the front of her neck. Made of almost clear plastic, I hadn’t really seen it until Lori was on top of me, as that was the first time she’d actually faced me. I could hear her breathing through the tube, and saw the soft fabric around her neck with which the tube was tied.

The second thing I noticed about Nurse Lori was her pierced nipples. Nothing really exotic, just a simple horizontal barbell through each one. They were placed almost against the base of the nipple, and the bars looked like they were an eighth of an inch thick. They were as impressive for their size as for their simplicity.

The last thing I noticed, and did so almost as an afterthought, was that her hair was wet. It looked at though she’d just stepped out of the shower.

Two assistants appeared then, and started added bars to the fracture frame attached to my bed. One directly above Lori’s head, another at the foot of the bed, and one on each side of the bed beside Lori. All had pulleys, and once they were clamped to the frame, ropes were threaded through them.

Turning away from the bed, those two assistants returned, each with a large canvas hand mitt, which they simultaneously applied to Lori’s hands. Made of heavy canvas with a rigid palm and sleeves for each individual finger, these mitts were lined with lamb’s wool, even down to the cuff which was locked around Lori’s wrists. Locked onto her hands, they were attached to the ropes at her sides, holding her hands firmly away from her torso.

Once they’d completed this, the two assistants left the room, but quickly returned, each with their hands full. As they approached the bed, I saw they were carrying the front and back halves of a thick, heavy plastic jacket, which I originally took to be an upper back brace. Turns out I was only partially correct.

When they walked into Lori’s field of view, she saw them, and started breathing rapidly. Apparently something significant was about to happen, though I was sure if she was excited about it or frightened. Doctor Morgan noticed, and nodded to one of the assistants who, until now, had done nothing more than stand around and watched. Quickly this assistant walked out of the room, and returned with another cart upon which was mounted a machine with corrugated hoses coming out of it. Another respirator, I surmised. Sure enough, the cart was parked against the wall on the far side of the room, plugged into an outlet, the machine was turned on, and the hose attached to it was picked up and carried to the bed. I heard a chuffing noise, and turned to see Nurse Lori trying to say something. Her mouth moved, but the air was only going out of the trach tube. Apparently it was cuffed, robbing her of all speech. The hose was brought up to the bed, and hooked up to her trach tube. The chuffing noise ceased, and her breathing took on a mechanical rhythm, though her mouth movements continued. Doctor Morgan made an adjustment to the machine, and within a few breaths Lori stopped moving her mouth and seemed to relax.

It seemed a great effort was being made to keep Lori quiet and relaxed, though not tranquilized. I surmised they’d just added Nitrous Oxide or Entonox to the air that was being pumped into her lungs – quick-acting agents, their effects would end almost immediately after the flows were stopped. Whatever was going to happen, they wanted Lori awake and alert for it. Part of me felt sorry for her, and part of me was scared for her. There wasn’t much I could do at the moment though, so I just watched, and felt her slick vagina engulfing my rigid penis.

Once Lori had relaxed, the two assistants stepped up to the bed with the two halves of the plastic jack – one for the front, and one for the back. The back half was placed against Lori’s torso and held in place, but the assistant holding the front half waited. Doctor Beckham then walked up, holding two pieces of wire. Bent to resemble a tuning fork, te ends of the times were bent into a sort of question mark. I started to wonder what these were for, when Doctor Beckham attached once to each of Lori’s nipple piercings. Once attached, they were held at a right angle to Lori’s torso, each sticking out about ten inches. The nurse with the front half of the jacket then approached.

As she did, I noticed that the entire inside of the jacket was lined with lamb’s wool, both front and back, and that the front half had breast cups molded into it. I also saw that, where the nipples would be on these cups, there was a round hole, with a small notch cut out of the top and bottom. As the front half was placed against Lori’s body, the two long wires attached to her nipple jewelry were passed through the holes in the breast cups. Once the front and back halves were in position, straps were passed between them, and drawn tight. Buckles, not Velcro, held the straps firm, and once hey were all in place, locks were snapped over the buckles, preventing them from being removed, or even loosened. As the last of the buckles was being secured, I looked at the breast cups, and saw that the long wires stuck straight out of the hole – apparently the way the vest was made, Lori’s nipples were still down inside the jacket. Doctor Beckham then took the wires, and Lori suddenly grimaced, apparently knowing something was about to happen – and happen it did. Doctor Beckham rotated the wires ninety degrees, and pulled – twisting Lori’s nipples hard, turning the jewelry’s orientation from horizontal to vertical, and pulling them through the vertical slots in the holes. They were then allowed to return to horizontal, and I realized that Lori’s nipple piercings were now fixed to the outside of the jacket, stretching her nipples at least an inch. I saw tears in her eyes, yet her vagina tightened up around my cock. Was this something she was wanting? The two long wires were detached from the nipple jewelry, and Doctor Beckham stepped back.

Having firmly attached the vest to Lori, those two nurses returned to their cart, and came back to my bed with several bars of black material. When they hit against each other, the sound was not metal, but a cross between plastic and ceramic. A straight bar was attached horizontally to the front of Lori’s vest, and another to the rear half. A longer bar, bent down at the ends, was placed over her left shoulder, attaching the front to the back; its twin was placed over the right shoulder. I suddenly realized what the appliance being constructed was.

Nurse Lori, dear, sweet Nurse Lori, was about to be placed in a halo.

Doctor Morgan spoke.

“I can see in your eyes you are concerned for our nurse. Please do not be alarmed. This was requested by her. You see, she is about to embark on a ten-week vacation, traveling to England, Norway and Germany, then finishing up in Las Vegas. She wanted to be placed in a halo for the entire trip, as well as having the trach tube.” While the doctor was speaking, Lori looked down at me and smiled weakly – her way of assuring me that what the doctor was saying, was true. “There was a condition to being placed in this, though. Lori specifically requested that the halo be applied, with traction, while she had a well-endowed man in her. We’ve actually been waiting for a month or so for a willing patient to come in, and it happened to be you. It was fortunate that you appeared when you did, as the time frame for Lori’s vacation was limited.”

The frame for the halo vest/back brace was now finished, with four uprights evenly spaced around Lori’s head. A traction rope was threaded through pulleys to end directly over that beautiful cranium, and attached to a head halter. That device was then placed over Lori’s head, and the side straps were connected between the chin and occipital straps. It was adjusted, and then weights were attached to the other end of the rope. I could see Lori’s neck start to stretch. I didn’t know how much weight the attached, but it was a lot. Then it was time.

Adjustments were made to the respirator breathing for Lori, and the glazed look disappeared from her eyes. She was fully awake and aware.

A nurse entered the room carrying a tray, on which was a bundle of cloth. Doctor Morgan donned latex gloves, unfolded the bundle, and removed the halo itself from its sterile package. Turning to my bed, she ceremoniously placed the halo over Lori’s head, like a bishop crowning a prince. Satisfied with its position, she nodded to an assistant, who then slowly screwed in the positioning pads. Once firmly held in place by the pads, Doctor Morgan turned back to the tray, and opened another small package. One by one, the pins were inserted into holes in the halo and started, but were stopped before they came in contact with skin. Eight pins were placed, two on either side of each positioning pad. Once all were set, Doctor Morgan was handed a pair of what seemed to be battery-powered screwdrivers.

“The torque setting is correct?” she asked. One of the assistants nodded. The doctor turned to Lori. “Ready?”

Lori closed her eyes fro several seconds; our respirators made the only sounds in the room, a staccato rhythm that, in another setting, might have been decent to dance to. Lori then opened her eyes, and looked directly at the doctor …

… and for the last time in a long time, nodded her head.

Doctor Morgan selected a pair of pins on exact opposite sides of Lori’s skull, adjusted them with her fingers until they were just barely touching the skin, and then placed the battery-operated screwdrivers to them. She waited only a second before activating them, and I less than a second they drove the pins home, reached their torque limit, and shut off.

Lori’s body jumped, and I suddenly realized that no local anesthetics were being used on the pin sites. She was feeling every bit of it. At the same time, her vagina tightened up around my penis again, and stayed tight. As the second set of pins were tightened in, Lori’s vaginal muscles started a throbbing rhythm. When the third set of pins were set, her eyes closed, and a sudden rush of warm, sticky fluid gushed from her vaginal orifice – she’d just had an orgasm. And with each pair of pins being inserted through her skin and into the outer surface of her skull, she came again. When the final pair was driven home, the orgasms came one after another, repeatedly, for what was probably a full fifteen minutes. Doctor Morgan and the other nurses simply stood back and watched, waiting for Nurse Lori’s body to finish what it needed to do. Once her body stopped heaving, they moved in, connecting the uprights to the halo ring, and removing the positioning pins. Before the uprights were tightened, two more weights were added to the traction rope, and Lori’s neck stretched even further. The uprights were tightened, the traction weights removed, and the head halter was cut away. The ropes were removed from Lori’s hand restraints, though the restraints themselves remained, and two nurses moved in to help Lori off my bed. She held up her mitted hands, though, indicating she wanted them to wait, and, leaning forward a little, started to slide up and down my cock. I was certain she was in a tremendous amount of pain from those eight pins in her head, and the tractive force being placed on her neck and shoulders, not to mention the stretching that was being done to her nipples, and yet before she left, Nurse Lori wanted to make sure that I received as much pleasure out of the experience as she did. The other nurses saw this, and re-tied her hand restraints to he bed frame in a way that let her use her arms for leverage. Once in place, she began rocking back and forth, sliding herself up and down my penis. The electrical stimulation device had caused me to have a great erection, but had somewhat desensitized my penis; as a result, it took a fair amount of work on Lori’s part before I finally came, too. Once I did, the ropes were removed from Lori’s hands, and she gladly accepted help off the bed. Before returning to her wheelchair, she leaned over my head, and mouth two words with dramatic exaggeration;

“Thank you.”

Nurse Lori was wheeled out of the room, and Doctor Morgan looked back at me, and the small pool of fluid which puddled the bed around my waist and hips.

“Time to get you cleaned up.” She adjusted my respirator, and I fell into a deep, deep sleep.

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