Dr. Malphren and Nikita Oh in: The Hospital Tour
Chapter 6: The Restructuring Ward and Surgical Ward
by MistressValentina
Tags:
#cw:noncon
#D/s
#dom:female
#f/f
#humiliation
#pov:bottom
#sub:female
#bad_end
#body_horror
#body_modification
#bondage
#brainwashing
#doctor
#drugged
#ego_death
#electroshock
#indoctrination
#kidnapping
#medical
#microfiction
#mindbreak
#multiple_partners
#nurse
#sensory_deprivation
cw: brainwashing, conditioning, mind break, surgery, body horror/modification,
“We try so hard to care for our Patients,” Dr. Malphren lamented, “but unfortunately, some patients just don’t seem to realize that. Luckily, we have ways to…change their minds.”
She smiled at her little joke as they passed through a set of doors labeled ‘Restructuring Ward’ in big bold letters.
“Whether it’s simple conditioning, memory altercations, or even a complete personality overhaul, we have just the solution.”
They passed a series of heavy steel doors, each with a viewing slit, a clipboard hanging from a perfectly placed peg on each door. The doors were clearly magnetic; Nikita saw interchangeable labels stuck to the various doors. She craned her head to try and read them as they passed. “Mesmerization Hazard.” “Aerosols in use-Breathing Protection Required.” “Warning: Flashing Lights.” “Caution: Hallucinating Patient.” “Do Not Disturb Until:” and then a date, although Nikita didn’t catch it. It suddenly occurred to Nikita that she had no idea how long she’d been here.
Dr. Malphren’s voice pulled her out of her spiraling despair. “We have several methods, depending on the situation. Visual overload. The insidious whisper of subliminals. Pain and pleasure conditioning. Various drugs to cause hallucinations, dissociations, and depersonalizations. I pioneered many of the techniques myself. But out of all of them, this one’s my current favorite.”
They stopped outside a door, and Dr. Malphren turned the wheelchair so Nikita could see the screen displaying a live feed of the scene inside. Nikita tried not to look; the muffled screaming coming from the cell told her all she needed to know.
Inside, a straightjacketed figure thrashed helplessly, assaulted on all sides by strobing lights. It hurt Nikita’s eyes just to watch the screen. They were screaming, constantly and incoherently. Above the screen, taped up like a child’s drawings, were a series of photographs. With each one, the hair got wilder, the bags under the eyes growing larger and darker, the eyes growing ever more red-rimmed and bloodshot. The expression changed with each photo, raging to fearful to teary to dissociated as they went on.
“She’s breaking nicely.” Dr. Malphren mused. “Almost ready for her new personality.” she turned to Nikita. “We torment her with strobe lights and subliminals, keeping her awake for 4 days at a time, long enough for psychosis to set in and for all sense of reality to break down. Then we sedate her and put her in a forced REM sleep for 3 days straight. The dreams her breaking mind comes up with are almost as terrible as our treatment. The sleep is nowhere near enough to let her recover, but that’s not the point. The point is to break her down.” She smiled. “Then we snap a picture, and start it all over again! She’ll be ready soon…just a matter of time.”
“Of course,” Dr. Malphren explained, wheeling Nikita through a set of doors marked 'Surgical Ward', “there’s more than one way to rewrite a mind. In our restructuring ward we change your thoughts, in our Surgical ward we change what sort of thoughts you can physically have. Let’s see you talk back after we cut out your Broca's area-as 9309 is about to find out.”
Nikita craned her head to take a look through the glass; inside was a team of surgeons and nurses, all staring at Dr. Malphren through the glass in respect and expectant submission. After all, her mere presence commanded respect, and placed her in charge of the proceedings, barring any urgent situation or spurting liquids. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case, at least not yet; the only liquids dripping out of Patient #9309 were tears. For one undergoing surgery, she was given a remarkable range of motion. Padded clamps held the face and neck absolutely still…but besides that, she was free to thrash, scream, and struggle to their heart's content, albeit with her bare scalp exposed through the bare metal table. The table extended a considerable distance to the front and sides of the patient, ensuring they were unable to interfere with the procedure beyond panicked, desperate clawing at the slick metal surface. Don’t worry, though! Patient #9309 was still able to participate in the proceedings, via the high-definition video screen mounted in front of her. It was streaming a live feed from a selection of cameras, cycling between a birds eye view, POV shots of various members of the surgical team, and shots of her own terrified, tear-streaked face. Clamps holding her eyelids open ensured she didn’t miss a moment. Dr. Malphren reached out and keyed the intercom built into the wall. The sound of Patient #9309’s sobbing instantly filled the hallway.
“You may proceed.”
At hearing the Doctor’s voice, the patient's sobs turned to shouts of rage, mashed-together insults, and threats, all of which turned to desperate pleading and screams of fear as the surgeons picked up their tools. Dr. Malphren didn’t understand what the problem was. After all, Patient #9309 was getting the best of both worlds: a painless surgery and the chance to witness the surgical genius of her staff firsthand. Of course, even the best anesthetic merely blocked the pain, not necessarily the sensation itself. But so what if 9309 happened to feel the bonesaw cutting a line around the top of her head? That merely meant a new appreciation for the latest medical technology. There was no need to make such a fuss as the surgeon’s lifted off the severed scalp, revealing a pink brain glistening wetly in the harsh LED light. And there was certainly no need for such language. Fortunately, that all turned into slurred gibberish with a swipe of the scalpel.
The operating room eventually lapsed into blissful silence, with only the gentle murmuring of the staff, the regulated beeping of the machines, and mumbling gargles as drool and tears leaked down Patient #9309’s face. Blood dripped from broken fingers and torn nails from where she had clawed at the table and restraints, but her body, neural pathways severed, hung limply in space. Nikita startled as Dr. Malphren finally moved from her rapturous curiosity, reaching out to key the intercom a second time.
“I offered you a very generous deal, my dear…I told you as much. You should’ve listened.”
Dr. Malphren smiled to herself as she wheeled Nikita down the hall. She knew 9309 heard her, even if she no longer had any means of showing it. She had made sure 9309’s sensory nerve clusters remained untouched. She tapped a few buttons on her PDA, assigning 9309 to the enrichment ward. It served her right. Dr. Malphren absentmindedly ran her fingers through Nikita’s hair as she continued her tour, wondering what deal she would offer her…and wondering what the response would be, after all she’s seen.
Dr. Malphren licked her lips as an evil smile spread across her face. She fantasized how Nikita would react if Dr. Malphren betrayed the terms of deal…it was giving her much to think about…