Rubymoon Private Asylum Pt. 03

Dr. Smith struggled to wakefulness against the lingering remnants of the drug that had knocked him out. It was like his entire body was being weighed down by something that wanted him to sleep.

Bit by bit he was able to pull himself out of dead sleep and into more of a druggy haze.

Dr. Smith took inventory of his surroundings. He was naked, except for a latex straightjacket of the kind the patients wore, and in a padded cell. It didn't take PHD to figure out what happened: he had been "committed" to Rubymoon.

The whole job interview must have been a trap to lure him here. Dr. Desdemona and her painted-on suit had been the bait on the hook.

Dr. Smith couldn't help getting mildly aroused remembering Dr. Desdemona, in spite of himself. He felt a sudden pinching on his penis.

That's when Dr. Smith noticed the one additional thing he was wearing: a shiny white chastity cage restrained his cock down to a tiny nublet. It was trying to get hard but the chastity cage prevented so much as the tiniest swelling.

Dr. Smith wasn't sure how he was going to escape yet, but he knew he would have to do so soon. He was too smart to fall for the tricks he had seen on the tour. They might be able to mentally condition the weak willed submissives he had seen but the same techniques would be useless against him.

Bracing his back against the wall, Dr. Smith was able to slowly work his way up to a standing position. Doing so made him aware of yet another gift from his captors: some manner of thick, semi-flexible probe was lodged deep in his ass. He attempted to push it out, but this proved to be impossible.

Dr. Smith knew he couldn't stand forever, and didn't think he'd be able to find a comfortable sitting position, so he compromised by squatting. At least from his position he could stand again much more easily than before.

Dr. Smith tried to think: who could possibly have wanted to have him committed here? That would give him information on what was being planned for him, and knowledge is power.

His ex-wife was out, she couldn't afford something like this. None of his admittedly large list of enemies could. Who did he know with the resources to pull something like this off?

Some hidden speaker suddenly came to life, letting out a long unbroken musical note. An F, if Dr. Smith wasn't mistaken. At the same time a tray slid out of the side of the wall. It was deep, almost like a bowl, and filled with a nondescript brownish mush. Possibly food?

Dr. Smith's stomach rumbled. He suddenly become aware of a great hunger gnawing away at his stomach. He wondered just how long he had been unconscious.

Still, he was suspicious of the food. Obviously eating was what his captor's wanted him to do. He just needed to figure out what the best course of action for himself was.

An abrasive and unnecessarily loud buzzer sounded, and the tray quickly retracted back into the wall.

Dr. Smith really started to regret not eating when he had the chance. Now that his hunger was awakened he could think of little else.

Closer inspection of the area of the wall where the food came from revealed a small metal tube sticking just slightly out of the wall. A metal ball plugged the end of the tube, only just barely holding back a stream of water.

Dr. Smith had seen a set up like this before: it was like a water bottle for a hamster. He knew that spinning the ball with his tongue would allow some of the water to trickle through.

On the one hand this was completely undignified. On the other hand he was desperately thirsty.

He worried the spout with his tongue, drinking the water as quickly as he could, until he was finally full. It felt a little better to have something in his stomach.

Time dragged on. It was either a few minutes or several weeks, it was impossible to know.

Another musical note sounded. An A this time, Dr. Smith decided. It was accompanied with another, much larger section of the wall sliding up to reveal a small alcove.

Dr. Smith waddled over to have a look.

Inside the alcove there was an ass-shaped indentation that was obviously meant to be sat in, and a number of tubes and various connectors sticking out of it. A tiny sticker with a toilet symbol on it was stuck to the alcove wall.

It appeared that if he sat in the indentation then it would hook the probe in his ass to some kind of machine. He had to imagine, based on all the evidence, that at that point the machine would administer to him likely a very powerful enema before draining his insides. He didn't relish such an experience.

The buzzer sounded again, and the toilet-alcove disappeared back into the padded wall.

Dr. Smith still had to pee. Fine, he decided, he would piss on the floor. That might summon a guard. Maybe even one of those nurses. He could probably overpower one of them and make his escape.

He attempted to urinate. Nothing happened. He pushed the familiar muscles but something was blocking the way.

Dr. Smith carefully lay down and pushed his head as close to his crotch as he could. Protruding from his chastity cage just the tiniest bit was the end of a tube.

He was catheterized. He has no control over when he could piss or shit. He was likely reliant, for the time being, on that toilet alcove. The one that just disappeared back into the wall.

Dr. Smith had a very uncomfortable night indeed, his bowels gurgling in anger, but sleep did eventually take him.

When he woke the next morning Dr. Smith was absolutely starving. When the F note sounded and the tray of brown mush was presented he attacked it, eating with his face in the bowl like a dog.

The food didn't taste of anything. It wasn't bad, exactly, but it certainly wasn't good. It was just bland.

Another note sounded, this time a perfect C. Dr. Smith completely ignored it. He was totally consumed by satiating his hunger.

The abrasive buzzer played and the tray retracted before Dr. Smith had eaten fully a third of the food.

"No!" he said aloud.

His stomach gurgled angrily in protest. He drank some water to try and fill it.

Dr. Smith lay on his side, brooding, until her heard another A note sound. He scrambled to his feet as the wall slid open to reveal the toilet alcove.

He wasted no time. Immediately he sat down in the ass indentation. Connectors and tubes snapped into place anchoring him by both the anal probe and the chastity cage, and sealing him to the seat.

Dr. Smith realized he couldn't remove himself any longer.

The A note played again and Dr. Smith could feel his insides slowly start to fill up with warm soapy water. He started to cramp up almost immediately. Instinctively he tried to pull himself free but he wasn't going anywhere.

At first he merely hissed with pain, but now he started to shout out.

More and more water shot into him. He was worried his bowels would rupture. His stomach bloated out slowly much like the man he had seen in long term storage.

The water stopped, and Dr. Smith was left full to bursting and sealed by the ass to the alcove. He remained there writhing for what seemed like an eternity before the machine switched back on and began to drain the water from him.

Tears welled in Dr. Smith's eyes. He nearly cried with relief.

That's when the process started over. He was administered two more enemas in exactly the same way before the machine was finished.

Then, finally, when he was pushed past the point of exhaustion, he felt is bladder begin to involuntarily empty as his catheter was opened.

When it was all over Dr. Smith was disconnected from the alcove, causing him to fall to the ground in a heap. The alcove retracted back into the wall.

Dr. Smith was too tired and hungry to plot his escape any further that day. He slid in and out of consciousness before finally falling asleep.

Dr. Smith was woken by a loud F note. He immediately climbed to his knees and waddled over to the food tray where he fell upon it. The food was just as bland as before but he was so hungry it tasted better than anything he had ever eaten.

Once again when Dr. Smith had eaten about a third of the food a C note played. He froze up like a prey animal, not sure of what to do.

This was apparently the correct answer as before long the F note played again. Dr. Smith resumed eating and the tray made no move to retract.

Dr. Smith ate another third of the food when the C note played again. He stopped and waited. After a few minutes the F note played again and he resumed eating. He licked every last morsel of food from the tray.

He was hardly what he would describe as full but he was feeling much better now that he had properly eaten. He was ready to get back to working on his escape.

Pushing his back against the wall again Dr. Smith was able to climb to his feet once again. He began to examine the walls, attempting to find the seams where the various parts slid away. Perhaps his cell contained other secrets, one of which might be the key to his escape.

While he was doing this an A note sounded.

Dr. Smith didn't want to use the horrible enema machine again, he didn't think he needed it anyway with how little he had been eating, but he was worried non-compliance could interfere with his ability to get food tomorrow. If he wanted to escape he needed to keep his strength up.

Wasting no time he ran over and attached himself to the indentation. Again he was given three massive brutal enemas and forced to hold them each for an extended period, but finally being emptied.

The enemas took so much out of him Dr. Smith didn't have the energy to continue the search. He lay on the floor, breathing heavily. He decided he would make sure he ate tomorrow, build up his strength, and figure things out the next day. He was too tired today.

The next day the tray slid out but without the F note. Dr. Smith immediately descended upon it but it retracted back into the wall as soon as he did while the buzzer sounded. The tray didn't reappear that day.

The toilet alcove opened with the usual A note, and Dr. Smith sat down in it with resigned duty. Again he was assaulted with a series of powerful enemas and left an exhausted mess.

Having missed the day's meager meal his gnawing hunger had returned. Dr. Smith fell asleep plotting not his escape, but how he was going to ensure he got to eat tomorrow.

The next morning Dr. Smith waited like a puppy where the food came out. Finally at long last the tray slid out, but he knew better to eat right away. He waited impatiently for the F note. About ten minutes after the food appeared the note sounded and Dr. Smith immediately began to eat.

He was forced to stop twice with the C note, and both times he ceased eating immediately and waited for another F note to give him permission to eat again.

The A note summoned him to the toilet alcove, and he ran over and connected himself without really thinking. He received his usual course of painful and humiliating enemas before being released.

Not long after he awoke the next morning the C note toned. Dr. Smith was confused. That meant to stop eating, but he wasn't being fed. He decided to investigate the place in the wall where the food came out.

The buzzer sounded as soon as he moved.

No food arrived that day, nor did the toilet alcove activate.

The morning after that the same thing happened again: the C note sounded. This time Dr. Smith remained perfectly still, awaiting any sign of what was expected of him. After a few minutes the food tray slid out.

Dr. Smith knew better than to eat without permission. He waited until the F note sounded and then attacked his food like a hungry dog.

From that point forward Dr. Smith was made to sit still with the C tone as soon as he woke up in the morning, and was only permitted to move once he was given a command with one of the other notes. A single mistake would mean no food and no toilet that day.

* * *

Dr. Desdemona and Dr. Bathory watched the nurse-in-training via a series of hidden cameras in her cell.

"The training seems to be taking a while doesn't it?" observed Dr. Desdemona.

"That's the new model X nurses for you," replied Dr. Bathory. "We program them using musical notes instead of verbal commands. Makes for a bit of a slow conditioning process."

"Musical notes? I like it. Very poetic."

"The goal is to remove their ability to think in words entirely. It may be a longer to program them but the end result will be highly desirable. You'll see."