Touched Ch. 06

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Up the creek: They pay for one impulsive moment.
3.5k words
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Part 6 of the 10 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 08/19/2011
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"I said, hold her down!"

"Let go of me!"

"I'm trying, but she's fighting me like a wild animal."

"What did you do to him? Grant!"

"Three cc's Kalmital, stat."

"Get off me, you fuck!"

"She's too small for such a high dose."

"Where's Grant?

"Gahhh! She spit on me!"

"WHERE IS HE?"

"That filthy little pervert spit on me!"

"Get that damn sedative before she tears my arm off!"

"No! No! Don't touch me! GRAAANT!"

~*~*~

I woke in the light, a world of white upon white, unable to move my head or limbs.

Where am I? I swallowed, trying to contain the bile rising in my throat. Why can't I move?

A wave of nausea slammed into my gut as the realization hit.

We'd been caught.

Straining against my bonds, I struggled for freedom in vain. What happened to Grant? Did they get him too?

What have I done?

"Oh Grant," I rasped, my throat raw and dry as my vision blurred with hot tears. "I'm so, so sorry."

I heard a door slide open and footsteps approach.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice, strangely familiar, said. "Good. We were starting to become concerned."

"Please. Let me go."

"We were forced to administer almost double the dose of Kalmital to make you pliant enough to put into restraints. You're quite strong for someone of your size; clearly you come from sturdy genetic stock."

A face came into my field of vision. Two eyes, so light they seemed to be a mistake, came into focus, staring down at me.

I flinched. "Please, Dr. Blake," I croaked, hoping that calling him by name might make some difference. "Please let me go."

The man smiled, a cold smile which moved only the bottom half of his face. "It's funny, when you call me that, I have to remind myself that you are talking about my pod-sibling and not me. Records confirm he examined you in June, for...possible post traumatic shock. Some minor symptoms of emotional disturbance. His notes indicate you were cleared to return to work after a two-day medical leave. For a general practitioner, Donovan's never been much of a diagnostician." He chuckled.

"Yes, Astrid, my name is Dr. Blake, though certainly not the one you had in mind. I am Dr. Marcus Blake, Ministry of Health, department of psychiatry, specializing in—well, individuals such as yourself."

Recognizing my efforts were futile, I stopped fighting against the restraints. "Why are you doing this?"

"Now, now Astrid, surely you already know the answer to that question. You and your...companion were observed engaging in unnatural, not to mention unlawful, activity in broad daylight."

"Grant; where is he?"

"In a room very much like this one, awaiting treatment." He paused and cocked his head. "Don't worry; he's safe. I'm afraid we were forced to use...harsher methods than we prefer to make him compliant, but there should be no permanent damage. The men tell me he fought savagely, trying to help you escape our custody. They found his...commitment to your safety at the cost to himself highly disturbing. I must admit I find it somewhat...noble, admirable even, in a misguided sort of way."

"Please. We haven't done anything wrong."

"It's funny how often I hear that from the genetically defective. 'I haven't done anything wrong.' 'I was born this way.' 'I wasn't hurting anyone.' All of it said quite sincerely, as you did just then. Yet in time those protests changed into pleas begging me to free them of their psychopathy. I'm sure you won't be any different.

"Now, I would like very much to remove your head restraint before conducting my examination. I find full range of motion allows me to make a more accurate assessment of your response."

I gulped. "Response? To what?"

"Why, before I can proceed with a course of treatment, I must first evaluate the extent of your deviancy. Greater degrees of perversion require more aggressive treatment. Clearly, since you and Mr. Devlin were caught engaging in public, skin-on-skin facial contact, you have already progressed to a higher level. Still, components of the treatment can be quite painful, and it would be inhumane to subject you to more...distress than is necessary to achieve the desired result."

He must have seen the terror in my eyes, for he went on. "There, there, Astrid. There's nothing to fear but your own weakness. I've done this many times before to great success. Now, will you help me help you? Will you behave yourself if I remove the head restraint?"

I flicked my eyes downward, signaling my acquiescence.

"Good. I think we're going to get along just fine. Now, before I do that, I need to remove your hospital gown." I cringed at the sound of the hook-and-loop fastened seams tearing apart. The cool air caused my newly-exposed skin to rise, as if it shared my mortification.

Dr. Blake slipped the final remaining section of fabric out from under me, leaving me naked as I lay bound to the hard polymer exam chair. "Now, just a few more adjustments." Metal joints clanked and the leg rest split in half, my lower limbs spreading wide while he locked the chair into its new position.

"You're almost there. All that's left is your arms." Dr. Blake's face came into view again. "Now, I'm going to rotate the arm rests until your hands almost meet above your head."

I trembled, gasping for breath as my arms stretched out and upward without my permission.

"You're doing wonderfully, Astrid. I'm so happy to see you cooperating. It wastes so much energy to resist, energy that can be better used toward healing yourself of that which controls you. There," he concluded, removing the chin and forehead pieces and placing them on the nearby counter. "Go ahead and stretch your neck a bit. Yes, that's it; rotate your head. Feels much better now, doesn't it?"

"Wh-what are you d-doing?" I quavered, muscles tensing when the back of his gloved hand traced an unexpected path down one of my arms.

"I see. 'Patient demonstrates abnormal response to tactile stimuli.'" Dr. Blake rolled his hand at the wrist and began stroking my breast.

Sucking in my breath, my eyes flickered closed. "Please. Don't do that."

"'Patient's verbal response inconsistent with physiological response. Raised flesh and flushing noted in and around area of stimulation. Eyes closed at moment of contact. Shallow breath, increased heart rate noted.' Tell me, Astrid, how does this feel? Please be as specific as possible."

Drawing on all my strength to ignore the sensations coursing through me, I replied through clenched teeth, "Why don't you tell me? You're the doctor."

Dr. Blake sighed. "We were doing so well, Astrid, just a moment ago. Do you really want to start down this road?"

I took a deep, steadying breath and forced myself to look into his preternatural eyes. "I won't help you. There's nothing wrong with me."

"I believe you believe that right now. I truly do. What I'm doing feels good, doesn't it?" he asked, tugging on my nipple. When I didn't answer he went on. "I'm not even touching the other one, and it's as erect as the one between my fingers."

His hand left my breast and slid down my abdomen, my skin quivering in its wake. He walked down the length of my body and around, stopping in between my outstretched thighs.

Biting my lip, I suppressed a moan when his fingers touched my genitals. I hated him for making me feel this way, for perverting a pleasure I'd come to associate with Grant.

"Now, you see, this is where my pod-brother made his biggest diagnostic error," Dr. Blake revealed, his finger cleaving the lips covering my entrance like a piece of ripe fruit. "His examination indicated swelling and wetness in the genital region, similar to what you are presenting right now. You indicated a recent session in the SxTC the likely cause of your symptoms.

"Aside from that not being particularly realistic two days after the fact, upgrade or not, it would have been a simple matter for Donovan to check out your story. If he had, he would have discovered it had in fact been nearly two weeks since your last visit to the Pleasure Center. And if he had discovered the truth, he might have discovered a further truth—that you had to have been engaging in manual stimulation within the previous twelve hours. Isn't that right, Astrid?"

"Fuck off," I groaned, gritting my teeth.

"'Fuck off'? What exactly does that mean? It's obvious you're angry, but I can't say I've heard that particular phrase before. Well, that's not entirely true. Grant—Mr. Devlin—he shouted 'fuck you' at me a short time ago, and my men reported you screamed, 'get off me, you fuck' when we took you into custody. Tell me, is this 'fuck' the latest euphemism amongst defectives?"

"Fuck off," I repeated.

"So emotional." I gasped as the tip of his finger began to manipulate my clitoris. "Don't you understand, Astrid, your emotionality is what makes you a less evolved human being? And that touching only exacerbates your weakness?

"You hate me, don't you? And yet, look at the way your body betrays you, grinding itself against my fingers, desperate for relief. How can you trust your judgment when you can't even trust your own body?

"Go ahead, let go. You might as well experience pleasure one last time. Because I promise you, beyond this moment you will no longer associate such stimulation with pleasure."

"Guhhh!"

"That's it, Astrid; let it go," Dr. Blake encouraged, rubbing my clitoris as my flesh palpitated beneath his hand, "and with it your base impulses. I'm here to help you learn how to be a modern human being, one with the discipline to control her primitive urges for the greater good."

I started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asked, jerking his hand away, his tone of authority wavering for a fraction of a second.

"For someone so in control of his 'primitive urges'," I chortled, gasping to speak as tears squeezed from my eyes, "your penis is awfully hard."

~*~*~

Repeated power outages prevented a continuation of Dr. Blake's treatment, which included liberal application of electric shocks to my genitals and other sensitive areas while he lectured about the dangers my primitive nature posed to society. I overhead the orderlies blaming the power loss on a thunderstorm, although without any windows in my room I had no way of confirming the information. All I knew was that after a few hours, the light-eyed psychiatrist finally gave up and left me alone.

Later that evening one of the orderlies entered.

"Please," I began, trying to catch the middle-aged man's eye as he struggled to dress me without loosening my restraints, "please tell me. Is the man I came here with—Grant Devlin—is he okay?"

The man flinched when, despite his efforts, one of his gloved fingers slipped off the gown and made contact with my bare skin. "He's fine, deviant," he replied at last. He paused, then added, "He's pretty beaten up, though. He shouldn't have tried to fight them."

"Can you get a message to him? Please?" I asked. When that request bore no response I went on. "I just—I'd really like him to know that I'm okay."

"What is it with you deviants?" the man blurted. "You act so oppressed, like you are victims. But we're victims of you. It's because of your kind humans were nearly wiped off the face of the earth!"

"I-I'm sorry you feel that way," I responded, surprised by this show of unexpected emotion. "I-I can't answer for the actions of ancient humans. All I can say is, all we want—all I want—is to live my life, as I choose to live it, in peace. Is that so wrong?"

I grunted with discomfort when the orderly tightened the restraints around my wrists.

"I'll give your companion the message that you are well," he acknowledged just before he left the room.

~*~*~

"Your companion asked me to say, 'I love you,'" the orderly from last night informed me the next morning when he brought my meal.

I chewed and swallowed the mouthful. "Thank you. Would you tell him, 'I love you too'?"

The man shrugged, noncommittal.

"My name is Astrid. What's your name?"

"I know what your name is."

"Then you have me at a disadvantage," I told him, taking another bite.

"Amir," the orderly said a few minutes later.

"Nice to meet you, Amir. How...how long have you worked here, at the hospital?"

"None of your business."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"That's the problem with you deviants. You don't 'mean' to do anything."

I said nothing. After a time Amir continued. "If you want to get out of here, deviant, you better get with the program."

"What do you mean, 'get with the program'?"

"It means you need to give up these illusions that you and this companion of yours can leave this place and resume your relationship. The sooner you realize it's over, the better off you'll be."

"Even if we love each other?"

"I don't know what 'love each other' means."

"It means caring for another human being so much that they are as much a part of you as your own self."

Amir grew quiet. "Dr. Blake was not very happy about the way you spoke to him yesterday," he said at last. "And after all the power outages, I wouldn't be surprised if he works extra hard on you today."

"Thanks for the warning."

"If I were you, I would refrain from angering him. He's the one who decides when—or if—you get out of here." The orderly hesitated. "There was a patient, back when I first started working here, who acted like you and your companion—angry, proud. Defiant. Dr. Blake was very determined to break him, but the patient seemed just as determined to resist. He said he'd 'just as soon die' than accept treatment. And that's exactly what happened."

I gasped. "Dr. Blake killed him?"

"Not on purpose. It was a combination of Kalmital and hours of shock treatment at too high a level. It...it wouldn't have happened if the patient hadn't been so unyielding."

"Surely you can see that it's wrong," I said, my eyes scanning his face. "It's wrong to force people to deny who they are. How can you stand by and do nothing when he's torturing and even killing people?"

Amir stood up and snatched away the bowl of food. "Remember what I said," he reminded me, strapping my arms back down at my sides. "Don't make him angry."

~*~*~

Dr. Blake stroked a large metal rod humming with current all over my trembling body. "Tell me about your relationship with Mr. Devlin."

"What, what do you want to know?" I steeled myself, waiting for the searing pain I knew would soon follow.

"We have an eyewitness account of the two of you embracing and engaging in skin-to-skin facial contact. I need to know what other acts you have performed with each other."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I replied through gritted teeth, "but I'm afraid there's nothing else to tell."

A muscle-seizing, teeth-rattling jolt tore through me.

"Gahhh!"

"Feel the pain, Astrid, how it burns its destructive path through every nerve, like the savagery possessing you? I want nothing more than to end your pain, to free you of your weakness, but if I'm going to help you, I must know the truth. Now, let's try this again. Have you and Mr. Devlin engaged in other forms of skin-to-skin contact?"

"No."

I screamed as another surge shot upward from the bottom of my feet.

"I wish I could believe you—I really do—but I'm afraid I have my doubts."

"Wh-why?"

He paused to rub the cruel, vibrating steel between my legs. I groaned in spite of myself. "Because closer examination of your genital region indicates a tearing of the hymen since your last medical exam. And while there are other, more mundane reasons for such an occurrence, in your case, under the circumstances, it suggests penetrative activity," he explained, forcing the cold prod deep inside my vagina before sending another devastating shock through my body.

"Unghhh!"

"Have you and Mr. Devlin engaged in penetrative, skin-on-skin bodily contact?" Dr. Blake asked, twisting the buzzing rod inside me before pulling it out.

I wept without tears, unable to respond.

"I know, my dear; I know. It's terribly unfair," he commiserated, rubbing the prod against my nipples. "If only you'd learned to embrace self-control and enlightenment..."

"Gahhh!"

"...it wouldn't be necessary to force it upon you today."

"Pleeease!" I rasped, my eyes begging as I heaved with dry sobs. "Don't do this. Have mercy!"

"I know it doesn't seem that way now, Astrid, but I am showing mercy," Dr. Blake assured me, running the rod along my side, just below my underarm, "far more than the cruelty genetic chance bestowed upon you and your kind. I'm giving you a second chance; the opportunity to live a normal life."

While I braced myself for another agonizing shock, the lights flickered. I held my breath, heart pounding as the metal instrument ceased humming against my skin.

I exhaled in slow, jagged puffs, waiting in silence for Dr. Blake's reaction. It was the third day in a row of power outages, and after spending a significant portion of those days in his company, I'd come to recognize when his façade of self-assured discipline wavered, threatening to collapse.

Clenching his jaw, the psychiatrist's breath streamed through flared nostrils. I knew he was struggling, trying to decide if he should wait it out, in the hope that full power would be restored momentarily, or cut his losses, pretending he had planned on stopping at this juncture all along.

Amir's insights into his superior's need to maintain an image of total control had proven accurate and helpful. Although I continued to inwardly mock Dr. Blake's hypocrisy, I soon learned it was too dangerous to risk stirring his passions. When I failed to heed the orderly's warnings and continued openly challenging the man, Amir informed me the next morning that Grant had been the unwitting victim of the psychiatrist's misdirected rage toward me.

"That's enough for today," the light-eyed man proclaimed at last, laying the prod on the counter. I suppressed the urge to sigh with relief. He looked over and gave me a benevolent smile. "I'll have one of the orderlies get you cleaned up and ready for the evening meal. Make sure you get plenty of rest tonight. We're on the verge of a breakthrough, and I think you're ready for the next phase in treatment. You'll need all your strength to get through tomorrow's session."

~*~*~

The insulated white walls of my cell no longer immune to the thunderstorm's impact, the entire building rattled with each earth-shattering boom. I found solace in nature's fury; it was as if the weather itself raged against the injustice of our detainment.

Although at times the room shook so hard I thought the walls would crumble, I eventually drifted off to sleep as the storm rampaged the city.

"Psst. Wake up."

"Mmm?"

"Wake up."

My eyes opened wide into the black at the sound of a voice whispering directly into my ear. I jerked my head, turning toward the source. As my vision adapted to the darkness a figure came into focus.

A young woman with blonde hair and dressed in a dark suit, someone I'd never seen before, stood over me, releasing my restraints. She brought a finger to her lips when our eyes met, warning me to remain silent.

Shaking my head, I blinked hard, twice, certain I was dreaming, only to discover myself able to move my arms. I sat up, rubbing the wrist of one hand and then the other, trying to restore circulation.

"You better not mind the rain, deviant," she whispered, handing me a bundle of clothing and a pair of boots, "because we're going out in it. Here, put these on. Quickly; we only have a few minutes."

"You're real," I murmured, slipping the tunic over my head. "I thought you were a dream. Who are you?"

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