August 30th, 7:30 AM, 2147 C.E.
Valia’s return to consciousness was fitful, to say the least. As the long night had worn on, and the hypnotics were gradually metabolized by the slumbering girl’s system, her drug-imprisoned mind broke free of its shackles and began to spark with activity. The black nothingness of dreamless sleep began to wash from her consciousness like soot beneath the rain, a vast, cosmic void taking its place. Dreams mundane and extraordinary bubbled into existence, floated along her meandering rivers of thought, then effervesced back into the void. As the dampening shroud of the drugs lifted ever higher, the dreams became fewer and more coherent. Slowly, the lesser dreams popped from her psyche like soap bubbles, one by one, until a single, vivid scene dominated Valia’s sleeping mind. When her terror-wracked form convulsed back into the world of the awake, she could not recall what shiver-inducing horrors her dozing mind had created; only that she never wished to see them again.
Her world was still little more than darkness; however, the darkness engulfing her senses was not the pure nothingness of unconsciousness, but of an artificial sort, achieved primarily through two soft synthetic cloth pads adhered to her eye sockets. Strips and swaths of latex contained her paroxysmal movements, stretching audibly when her muscles strained against the material but otherwise not yielding to the panicked girl’s struggles. For a moment, Valia felt utterly bewildered by the sensory deprivation confronting her; she had surely awakened, so why could she not see, not move, and not speak? As the moist numbness in her mouth began to subside, the slight taste of plastic-rubber seeped into her saliva, reminding her quite clearly of what she did not want to believe. She was here, in an asylum, wrapped-up in rubber and bound to a crib, with nothing more than five years of lonely imprisonment to look forwards to. The magnitude of it all socked her in the stomach a second time around, and she began to sob quietly, soft whimpers escaping the confines of her gag.
Valia did not hear the nigh-silent swish of her cell door open, nor the infinitesimal scrunch of soft padding under the sole of a boot. She did however, feel the firm touch of a palm upon her shoulder, and a mild voice offering a few words of generic condolence, before telling her it was time to rise. Fingers peeled the adhesive pads from Valia’s eyes, opening the floodgates for a cascade of white light to blind the young woman temporarily. Valia groaned, blinking away the tears as her eyes acclimatized to the brightness of her room. She shifted, trying to get a better look at the haloed figure standing beside her psyche bed, standing over her. Nurse Sweete? No, somebody else. Another woman, though she did not look too dissimilar from the nurse herself; her hair was blonde as well, though it was of a duller color than Sweete’s golden locks. She was shorter than Sweete as well, and possessed the same strong, stocky build. Her face was certainly the most distinct, however. It was not so different in terms of actual features, but the expression instead. Nurse Sweete’s visage had always radiated a unique friendliness that filled whatever room she was in with a golden glow. This woman, with her slightly drooping eyelids and sardonic slash of a mouth, seemed more bored than anything.
“Valia Synthis? Yes, yes. It’s time to get up.”
Her voice, suggesting a cultural heritage from both Britain and France, seemed genial and interested enough, but Valia could no longer be sure.
“C’mon, let’s get you out of that and on the move. My name is Dr. Treska Tickour, Sweete’s assistant. She sent me here to take you on a tour of our facilities, and what better time to start than now, as the entire facility starts its day?”
Treska, who was wearing a white doctor’s coat similar to Sweete’s, though lacking the limitless number of inside pockets, reached into her own single outside pocket and produced a saucer-shaped device opaque white plastic. When she tapped the center of the device lightly with her thumb, a small, compact menu projected in holographic blue appeared just above the device’s surface. She navigated through a procession of shifting screens traced in azure wireframe, until a satisfied smirk indicated she had found what she had been searching for. A single tap later, and the straps binding Valia to her bed disengaged, drawing back into the lower bowels of the device. Her leg restrains deactivated as well, mercifully releasing her tight frogtie and giving her legs a chance to stretch and breathe. Apparently, the device was Dr. Treska’s analogue to the micromesh glove controller Nurse Sweete was never seen without.
Following the gentle push of Dr. Treska’s hands, Valia swung her ballet-booted feet over the side of her psyche bed and planted the tips firmly into the ground. With her arms bound securely behind her, she had little opportunity to balance her en-pointe shoes atop the uneven ground. With Treska’s hands to support her, she fell to her knees onto the soft padding of the cell unit. The doctor placed her hand lightly against the back of Valia’s head, guiding the girl as she shuffled towards the open door. The main hallway outside was serene, free from the unique sort of rush-hour traffic that had first struck Valia as so unusual. Here and there, a robotic orderly or a medical supervisor would meander from door to door, usually escorting a patient, but by and large the ward’s primary corridor was vacant. Valia was nudged over the unit door’s threshold, from the thick padding onto the firmer rubber-plastic material that seemed to coat every floor, ceiling, and wall of the compound. Firm hands helped her to her feet, holding her steady as her wobbly legs struggled to stand in the punishing pair of boots.
“Alright then. Now that you’re standing up and not looking as if you’d collapse as soon as I let go, I suppose we should be off to our first destination. As a special guest of ours, you get all the accommodations of a rich VIP patient, including your own cleansing unit. We’ll get you all nice and washed up, but first, a word of warning. Most VIP patients in this ward are crime-afflicted daughters of wealthy executives, usually the kind caught in a bathroom with a nebulizer full of Euph or a purse full of pilfered jewelry. They’re as vicious as wild cats and far more self-entitled, so stay on guard. I’ll handle them should any sort of… situation arise, but I would prefer that never happens in the first place. Understood?”
Valia nodded, pledging her obedience for the time being. Treska returned the nod in satisfaction. From the same pocket that held her controller, she pulled a rolled-up cord of flexible white plastic. One end of the rope terminated in a little steel connector module, and the other was fused to an ergonomically shaped handle. She plugged the steel end into the node on the front of Valia’s collar, effectively leashing her. With a gentle tug from Treska, Valia began following the doctor’s progress down the long hallway. She noticed how, at first, Treska had kept a firm hold on one of her arms, wary of a potential fall. As the girl’s footsteps became steadier in her heels, the grip would loosen, and loosen, until the doctor’s fingers finally slipped away. Passing endless door upon door, dodging the steadily increasing trickle of passersby as the day-to-day humdrum of the psychiatric hospital began. Their progress was slow, yet steady; Treska was conscientious of the impairment to Valia’s walking, and was careful not to outpace her or tug too strongly on the leash.
Soon enough, the mincing steps of doctor and patient came upon a heavy door, labeled in holographic letters the words: Washroom – Individual Units. With a tap of Dr. Tickour’s universal remote, the dense slab of steel and reinforced polycarbonate swung open without so much as a whoosh. At the instruction of the doctor, Valia stepped across the boundary and into the novel enclosure, curiously observing her surroundings. The washroom was sterile and almost entirely white—similar to the rest of the hospital—and consisted of many large elliptical pods lined up end-to-end in several rows. Constructed of a more rigid variation of the compound’s ubiquitous plastic material, the pod resembled a sphere, severely flattened against the wall until it bore the likeness of a medicinal tablet stood on its edge. A large chunk had been carved from the pod’s shell, approximately the upper two-thirds of the side facing away from the wall. Adorning the pod’s interior was a veritable arsenal of machines, devices, containers, tools, bells, and whistles. Polished chrome and glossy rubber shone in the room’s harsh whiteness, every nozzle tipped, rubber padded, and hose-strung toy exuding an air of delightful menace.
The washroom was largely vacant; most of the pods were neatly organized and showed no signs of recent use. The first few VIP residents of her ward, however, had begun their steady trickle in. Accompanied by assigned medical personnel of their own, typically ordinary nurses and orderlies, they filed past the procession of units towards their own assigned places. Valia caught only brief, fleeting glimpses of the other women, save for a single platinum-blonde woman escorted by the arm by an orderly with a severe look of irritation on her face. She wore little more than an open-bust variation of the asylum’s regulation straitjacket and underwear, coupled with a pair of en-pointe ballet boots and a thick muzzle wrapped around her maw. She had first caught Valia’s attention by rather roughly shouldering the girl aside on her way to her unit, inspiring a few fresh feelings of animosity towards herself. The orderly growled, half in anger, half in exasperation, then yanked the young woman over to her unit. Bending the impertinent girl over the bench, the orderly administered five hearty spanks in rapid succession. The girl kicked and screamed into her gag like a child having a tantrum, before huffily shooting Valia a dirty, resentful look, as if it were her fault. Valia couldn’t help but agree with the gripes and cusswords muttered by the orderly about her patient. Treska just shook her head and turned Valia’s attention back to herself.
“Here is your very own cleansing unit, courtesy of the Amore Incorporated Mental Health and Corrections Division. This is where you will relieve yourself of solid waste and receive a washing-up every morning and night. Now, if you’ll please just sit on that plastic bench beside you, I will remove your shoes so we can get you cleaned up well and proper.”
At Treska’s command, the locks sealing Valia’s ballet boots disengaged. The doctor peeled away the two flaps from Valia’s sensitive skin, slipping off one boot, then the other, before closely examining the girl’s feet for signs of irritation. Fortunately, none of the signature redness, swelling, or sweatiness that an ill-fitted shoe often brought could be seen by the physician’s hawklike gaze. The young woman’s feet, small and delicate as they were, remained dry and unscathed by the boots’ perfectly-tailored grip. Though satisfied that no infections had festered within the boot’s confines, she was nevertheless a dedicated and fastidious observer of hygiene, and so placed the boots in a nearby box designated for radioclave sterilization.
“There we go! Alright, now I’ll hook you up for an enema. Hey—“ Treska’s words sharpened to a cautionary point; Valia had begun to squirm, and the only tether holding her in place was the leash that just now found itself within the doctor’s strong clutch. Treska narrowed her eyes in warning, “Valia, I’m warning you to stay put. The door’s closed, and there is a Psychiatric Orderly Droid only one row over, just waiting for a patient to step out of line. I know an enema doesn’t sound too great right now, but from what I’m told the normal cleansing procedures are only mildly uncomfortable for first-time recipients. If you cooperate with us, you’ll find that your stay here will not be nearly as terrible as you might imagine. If you disobey, however… it could very well be much, much worse. So please, do as I say, and spare us both some pain. Especially yourself.”
Intimidated, though not otherwise surprised by the doctor’s razor-edged words, Valia nodded in compliance and relaxed her twitching muscles; a symbolic sign of obedience. Flowing with the gentle nudges of Treska’s hands, Valia stepped into the tublike lower portion of the pod, the soles of her bare feet clinging to the smooth plastic. Two fingers pressed against the scruff of her neck, and as she yielded to their push and began to bend over, a plastic board extended from the wall to meet her tilting stomach. As her skin pressed into the soft plastic, it began to flex and mold itself to her contours, conforming to every line and curve of her youthful body. Once the girl was bent over to an even ninety degrees, the plastic board—now bearing a highly detailed relief of a shapely chest and stomach, hardened to a rigid stiffness now supporting the weight of the girl. Straps, untouched by the doctor’s hands and seemingly guiding themselves, snaked over Valia’s crossed arms and back, tightening ever so slightly so as to produce a secure, yet still comfortable, seal.
However comfortable her custom-fit plastic platform was, Valia did not find that having her vulnerable rear practically presented put her nerves at ease to any extent. The protruding mass nestled between her butt cheeks was reminder enough of what these people would do to her for her own sake, or so they claimed. Nevertheless, as much as she grumbled and moaned about it, the choice was no longer hers to make. She could only just relax and take what they gave her. Dr. Tickour lightly petted Valia’s back in a feeble attempt to console the anxious girl, all the while her other hand reached for a white rubber hose hung on a steel rack nearby. The words enema apparatus were clearly stenciled in black lettering along the tube’s length, printed just next to a plastic handle lined with buttons and a steel interface nodule.
Treska pressed the interface node into the corresponding slot on the back of Valia’s rubber underwear, threaded screws spinning into place and clamps locking tight over one another. The tube was now connected directly to the rectal plug penetrating her taut buttocks. Valia squirmed halfheartedly, knowing the futility of her actions yet never content to simply sit still. In the hidden bowels of the multipurpose washing unit, machinery began to hum and vibrate with a low, resonant timbre. Warm water, inundated with soap and pumped at a steady flow, spurted from the plug. Valia felt the gush of cleansing liquid invade her, filling her up with a strangely warm, soothing sensation. Regardless of how pleasant it might have felt, Valia felt so utterly invaded her cheeks turned a bright crimson, and she squeezed her eyes shut in mortification. When pressure began to mount and the enveloping softness turned to a growing discomfort, the machine responded and reversed its flow. The water was withdrawn from her system, replaced with a rapid jet of colder water to thoroughly flush her out.
To the mumbles of Valia’s muted protests, the cycle was repeated four times over. When the last vestiges of cleansing agents and refuse were rinsed from her bowels, she swore her ass could not have been cleaned more vigorously if it had been passed through a radioclave. The straps binding her torso to the board disconnected and pulled back, and the molded plastic of the board flexed slightly, before snapping back to its original, featureless form and sliding into the wall. Dr. Tickour stood the blushing, hot-faced Valia upright. Oddly enough, Valia found that Treska’s natural visage of almost apathetic boredom actually tamed her embarrassment; she seemed well-suited to her work as medical caretaker often faced with the many—occasionally disgusting—intimacies of the human body, performing her duties with the same dry, clinical disposition of a robot. Valia found Treska’s attitude rather unlike Nurse Sweete’s, who always seemed to enjoy her job a little too much. Of course, that did not completely alleviate Valia’s discomfort with walking around while bare-breasted and butt-plugged, but it did somewhat help.
Just as the nurse’s seemingly sweet and matronly nature attracted Valia’s trust, so did Treska’s efficient and no-nonsense approach to what would otherwise be undressing a young woman in bondage, tying her up again, and feeling her up with a wet sponge. Her arms had been unbound from her back first, providing access to the line of steel locks down her back. At Treska’s digital bequest, the metallic nodes unlatched themselves one by one, allowing Treska to peel away the two sides of the corset and pull the mass of rubber, plastic, and metal from Valia’s body. The sleeves were slid down her arms, the thoracic harness was loosened and removed, and the corset’s pythonic embrace finally unraveled when its rigid shape was split down the back. A deep, drawn-out sigh of relief escaped Valia’s gagged lips, not only at her first chance to breathe at full capacity since yesterday, but also because she felt the butt plug’s mechanical anchor disengaging itself for removal. Wrapping one hand around the base and placing the other against Valia’s back, Dr. Tickour slid the greased invader from the girl’s sensitive depths. Lastly, Treska hooked up a second tube to the catheter in Valia’s bladder, allowing her to vacate that as well before the doctor removed the last of the suit. The head harness followed, with Treska plucking the pear gag from Valia’s mouth with a pop.
When every scrap of medical rubber had been removed from Valia’s body and dumped into the radioclave repository, Treska turned her attention back to the girl herself. Wordlessly, the doctor gave Valia another firm look that commanded her compliance. She nodded her head cooperatively, not daring to utter a word despite her newly liberated tongue. Treska closed her fingers around Valia’s wrists, pulling them up towards the top of the pod. A pair of mitten-cuffs lay dangling above her head on rubber-coated cords of steel, rubber sacks almost hungrily awaiting the young woman’s clenched fists. Her hands were pushed into the tight, stretchy bags, and the cuffs were closed and locked around her wrists. There was only enough slack in the cords to allow a minimal amount of bend in her arms without actually suspending her. The doctor reached into an integrated compartment on the side of the pod and withdrew yet another molded shape of synthetic rubber; a ballgag, formed of a hollow sphere striated with large holes and strung with a single broad strap. Simple and utilitarian, it was designed to be as unobtrusive as possible so as not to impinge upon a patient’s ever-important cleaning procedure. Valia readily, if reluctantly, accepted the gag in her mouth when it was pushed against her lips, and bent her head forwards to make it easier for Treska to buckle the strap.
“Cyllia told me you’d be an easy patient to care for, and I’d like to thank you for proving her correct. Normally I’m not even a patient overseer at all; I’m a regenerative psychosurgeon who just happens to be Nurse Sweete’s assistant and who works closely with Amore’s psyche division. This is only the sixth time I’ve ever been assigned to patient caretaking, usually when a special case comes in that Sweete only trusts herself or me to handle, and she cannot be there. So, thank you again for being cooperative. Alright Valia, just relax, I’m going to start washing you now. No part of this should be unpleasant, but I’ve met patients who tend to be… jumpy.”
Treska waved a hand towards the pod containing the rude, blonde-haired girl from before. Her orderly had utterly given up on trying to coax any measure of obedience from her, opting for brute force in the end. The girl was tied spread-eagle to four cuffs on rigid poles that had emerged seamlessly from the walls of the pod, her limbs stretched out in a taut X until the only slack left was to prevent pain or even a dislocation. Her face was encased in a white rubber hood that left only her mouth, nose, and a hole for her hair. A ballgag, not unlike Valia’s own yet much larger in diameter, was wedged in between her teeth. The orderly, whose wrist now bore a procession of red teeth marks, was hosing her down with a powerful blast of water laced with abrasive detergent. The girl thrashed and screamed up a storm, but the jetting torrent drowned out her garbled curses. Every so often, the orderly would stop, scrub the girl down with a rough brush as she attempted to curse and spit at her, then start up the hose again, all the while keeping the same grim, exasperated expression. She clearly wasn’t happy with her assigned patient.
“She’s been a raw piece of trouble ever since she got here. I think she’s the daughter of some investment banker at Terra Firma, but I’m not sure. Anyways, she was found in a drug den while jacked up on ronaphine. None of the conventional rehab methods worked, as per usual, so we were paid to take her in. So, Valia, there’s a bit of a lesson in this for you; don’t do hard drugs, and don’t mess with the staff of Amore’s psyche hospitals.”
As she talked, Treska pulled a large, fluffy sponge from a built-in container on the pod. A basin extended next to her and began to fill with a warm solution of soap and water. Soaking the sponge in the basin, which automatically refilled itself, Treska set about gently sponging down the young, naked woman. Though there was little grime to be found on her body, a thin sheen of sweat had coated her skin until it glistened. Treska was diligent in washing every centimeter of Valia’s body, using her raptor vision to spot and eliminate any trace of uncleanliness she could find. Valia blushed slightly every time the sponge passed over her more sensitive regions, but the doctor’s efficient, almost mechanical movements had the strange effect of putting her mind at ease. After Valia’s body had been lightly scrubbed several times over, Dr. Tickour stood up and used a hose with a spray nozzle to mist the girl’s hair with steam. A handful of shampoo was rubbed across the dark swaths of hair flowing from her head, and the spray of steam was used to rinse the shampoo and soap from her nubile form.
“As far as normal procedure goes, that’s about it. Again, you’ll be cleaned twice every day, before you go to bed and after you wake up. However, there are a few other things I can do for you, if you so please. I notice that you shave regularly, which is good; it keeps the skin free of pathogens that nest amongst hairs and even in open follicles. However, that is not necessarily enough. I could possibly poach some epilatory cream as a more long term solution. It’ll sting a bit, but the sanitary benefits are worth it. Or, if you are so inclined to provide the funds, I could acquire a GE serum that would permanently halt your body hair growth and alleviate the negative side effects. What do you think?”
What first struck Valia was Treska’s obsession with cleanliness. It wasn’t quite pathological, like a full-blown mysophobe or someone with OCD, but it was a habit she was certainly dedicated to. Deciding that making friends with the staff was her best bet at scrounging as much freedom as she could from this place, Valia managed to utter a few mangled words that sounded like “epilatory”. To her surprise, Treska actually gave her a smile. It was slight, hesitant, and awkward, but it conveyed its message clearly enough; the doctor was actually thankful. Valia supposed that Dr. Tickour’s offer was more for her benefit than Valia’s own, though she would hardly ever object to the favor it curried. With a little more brisk in her movements, Treska retrieved a hose with a special nozzle and pushed the spout of a plastic canister into a slot on the bottom. Moments before a foaming jet streamed from the nozzle, Valia briefly remembered Treska mentioning how it was meant to sting. By the time the searing blast hit her skin, it was too late to brace. The foam’s acrimonious touch bit into her flesh, sending sharp pangs rippling through her nerves before a dull, murky numbness followed in its stead. Valia shut her eyes and bit into her gag, trying not to shriek at the swarm of burning hornets lambasting her body from neck to toe. Though not the worst pain she had ever felt in her life, the stinging assault enveloping her body certainly made a fair impression on the young woman’s mind.
Her flesh was numb and stars had filled her eyes. A misty daze had settled over the girl’s mind as it tried to re-wire its scrambled circuits. Like a computer booting up after a crash, full consciousness returned in painful little steps. Discernable thoughts came swimming back into her mind, telling her that she had momentarily blacked out. Sensation returned in bits and pieces, starting with the dull whine in her ear gradually settling into independent sounds. A voice, perfectly calm and reassuring, was intoning a string of watery words from which Valia could derive no real meaning at all. As her tactile abilities surfaced next, she felt a strong grip supporting her limp frame and taking some of the weight off of her suspended wrists. When her knees instinctively straightened and she regained a foothold once more, the hands set to the task of sweeping her body with a soft-bristled brush, catching and smoothing the foamy white epilatory cream across her skin. The gentle words were beginning to make some sense now, and with it, the star-speckled blackness over her eyes began to fade. Dr. Tickour was busily brushing away, careful to swipe every bare patch of skin on Valia’s body, catching and destroying the minutest of hairs that Valia did not even know she had.
“There, there, careful now. Nothing to worry about, you just suffered a brief syncope, that’s all. We’ll be done in a moment’s notice, and then be on our way.”
As she spoke, Treska deposited the used brush into another nearby sterilization repository, then grabbed the water hose once more. The doctor rinsed Valia down with a soft gush of warm water, dried her with heated gusts from another one of the many tools at her disposal, and combed her hair straight. Stepping back and reaching into her pocket, Treska withdrew the universal remote. Manipulating the plethora of holographic prompts, she finally activated the release catch for the cuffs clinging to Valia’s arms. Valia withdrew her aching appendages and hugged them close to her body, struck by a fit of shivers despite the heady, humid atmosphere of the room. Urged by the Treska’s movements, Valia stepped out from the pod. The lock on the back of her gag was undone, and the rubber ball was plucked from her mouth like a ripe fruit. Tossing the ballgag in the radioclave repository, Treska activated another function on her controller. From the ceiling descended a robotic arm carrying a plastic bin, and inside that bin was Valia’s bondage suit, freshly cleaned and sterilized. Corset, diaper, gag, boots, and plugs, all were swiftly re-applied back onto the submissive young woman without much fuss at all, and Treska tugged the leashed girl back out into the hallway.
“Next up is breakfast, where you’ll also be dining with our other esteemed VIP patients. Every room is equipped with a feeding suite, but patients need a chance for some social interaction. Hence there are communal rooms in which ordinary patients eat or are fed. Since the VIPs were always so bad-tempered—not to mention all-too-frequently waived from our normal disciplinary methods—we built them a separate dining hall where they could gossip or bitch in pea—“
“HEY! STOP! WATCH OUT!”
A shout echoed out from behind the two. Valia had barely any time to turn before—WHAM! She was bowled over like a pin, careening to the padded ground. Staring up in shock, she saw the rude VIP girl barreling down the hallway, barefooted and clad only in her straitjacket and underwear. Her orderly—a older, more veteran employee of the psyche hospital—was left in the dust, huffing and puffing and shouting to the winds. Treska was unfazed. Calm and swift, she simply raised her controller to her mouth an enunciated a clear set of words.
“Rogue patient running down block C, approaching block D of Female Special Ward’s primary arterial. May the nearest POD please respond.”
She pocketed the controller, gingerly helped Valia to her feet, and pulled her off to the side, checking her for injuries before talking.
“Witness, Valia, what happens to those who severely disobey our rules. Our security force is not to be trifled with.”
To Valia’s surprise, the VIP girl was now tearing up a trail back towards her orderly. She was shrieking through her gag like a banshee, head forwards and legs pounding at the ground. It was all very reminiscent of that scene with Lillia and Nurse Sweete the day before. It had not gone well for Lillia, and as soon as Valia saw what was pursuing the VIP girl, she knew it was not going to go well for her either. Three meters and three-hundred kilograms of rigid polymer and solid alloy hurled past the pair at blinding speeds, sprinting on sturdy multi-point digitigrade feet and moving with a grace and agility that defied its hulking stature. It was an android—that much was abundantly clear from its inhuman morphology and synthetic construction—that strongly resembled the one accompanying Nurse Sweete when Valia had last seen her. Atop the robot’s cylindrical waist sat a bulky, gadget-laden torso, from which six distinctive appendages and a head clearly sprouted. The lowermost pair had six fingerlike claws circling the center, padded with textured rubber and designed for precision. The middle pair of arms, beefed-up to the point they looked like they could easily heft a car or two, wielded two enormous clamps. The uppermost appendages did not resemble terrestrial limbs at all; two metallic-gray tentacles attached to the robot’s shoulders waved about like the arms of an octopus.
The android caught up to the fleeing girl in moments, nimbly dodging past the other patients and faculty before stopping just meters behind the runaway. Its lowest-left hand shot upwards, leveling its palm directly at the girl’s exposed lower back. Little plates and panels on the surface of its hand slid back, revealing a silvery cone with a bright blue LED glowing on its tip. A flash of light blazed out, a bolt of blue lightning arced from robot to girl as the 50,000 volt circuit was completed, and the girl toppled to the padded floor like a flung sack of bricks. The android retracted its Tesla drive back into its hand. Lowering from its high-speed digitigrade format onto a pair of heel panels, the robot clomped up to the supine girl sprawled out over the floor. She was still spasming from the shock, though the android did not bother waiting for her to recover before it started going to work. One of the large clamps circled around her ankle, inflating a rubber bladder on its inside circumference for a tight grip around her leg. She was hoisted bodily into the air, dangling from the powerful drone’s appendage like a ragdoll in the hands of a child. Sense soon cascaded back into the girl’s frazzled head, and a rather violent bout of struggling and muffled shouts soon followed. Utterly unperturbed, the robot simply pressed one of its twelve precision fingers to her thigh. A special cocktail of sedatives was intravenously injected using a narrowly focused jet of fluid, delivering the drugs directly into her femoral vein. After a few seconds’ sluggish struggling, the VIP girl was pacified, reduced a partially conscious, slightly groaning sack of limp flesh.
To the tune of buzzing servos, the android’s limbs began to flash around the sedated girl’s form. Her rubber gag, straitjacket, and panties were sliced away from her form by razor tools wielded by the robot’s spidery fingers, swaths of synthetic elastomer slipping from her frame in sheets and shreds. Once the last of her clothing had been eviscerated, the fully nude girl hung like a mobile from the drone’s powerful grasp. Wasting no time, it spun the girl around and bent her arms behind her back, wrapping several layers of medical tape around them from a dispenser in its wrist. Then, the robot enswathed her entire abdomen with several wrapping of tape, binding her crossed arms to her back with far more cohesion than was necessary. Her calves soon followed, cemented together by seemingly endless loops of tightly wound tape. A grayish sphere of acoustic-dampening foam was tucked into the girl’s lolling mouth, sealed soon after with a generous amount of tape. Two white adhesive pads were pasted over her eyes, and a flesh-colored triangle plastered onto her crotch. Wrapped up like a parcel ready for transport, the impudent patient was slung onto the android’s padded right shoulder like a bag of produce. Wordless, emotionless, the robot simply turned around with its fleshy cargo and marched away, muffled yelps emerging from the departing pair as the girl began to fully come to. Not long after, they disappeared down a distant corridor.
“That, Valia, would be our security force. Two hundred of those droids wander these hallways and linger in the walls, hooked up to the security feed and just waiting for someone to slip up. You see what it did to that girl? Believe me, that was it being gentle. If that girl had seriously injured anybody, she would have been marked on a blacklist and the block would go into lockdown. Every android in the vicinity would be after her, and their procedures would have been far faster and far rougher. As it is, her daddy’s influence won’t be able to keep her in light restraints for long. She’s been a holy terror on our staff since she got here, and any normal patient would’ve fared far worse if they behaved like she did. Ah well, Sweete will see that she gets the discipline she needs. As for you, consider this a valuable lesson. Now, let’s get you that breakfast, huh?”