per my last post, i spent some time today pilot testing a setup in xtoys to automate edging based on a heart rate monitor. this is supposed to be a hacky, more approachable version of the nogasm, as even tho i'm making tech sector money now i just...cant justify blowing 600 dollars on a sex toy. at least not without trying other options first lmao.
the setup:
for this run i had a Lush 3 going. not optimal for my body, difficult to get me to the edge with it until like...3/4 of the way or more thru its battery life. too high a price point for my optimal build but already had it on hand.
a bluetooth heart rate monitor - i scooped one up off Amazon for like 20 bucks.
xtoys on an Android phone running this exact layout. (@daisyschains and @enbyfication , y'all both asked about the code - here it is <3)
the results:
it took some doing to find the best settings for my combo of equipment and biometrics. the settings currently in the layout above are those that got the best result for me: shortening the duration of heartrate data collection > more frequent stimulation in shorter bursts.
but once i got there. oughh.
there was a point sometime in the experiment where i was reliably hitting the edge right as stimulation stopped, every single time. this took awhile bc as aforementioned the Lush is not my fave. but dear god, it's exactly the mindfuck i expected it to be.
i was near tears by the end. pretty rare for me with solo edging bc i tend to get locked in and subby and my own need for restraint forces me to stay in a calm headspace; this is NOT the case when someone else is edging me, and apparently this is a decent stand-in.
next test:
i have a toy that's better for my anatomy coming in the mail.
guys. im scared.
the goal: hard edges, every time, with heart rate monitoring relatively dialed in; i will republish the script anytime i make changes.
planning to add an automated clicker-training script too. record my existing clicker, then have it trigger to play every time i hit the edge. this had...unforeseen consequences last time; i expect they will get worse.
further down the line:
get a pressure-sensing buttplug from i think Honey Play. this is how the NoGasm works, by sensing involuntary muscle contractions, and may be more accurate than heartrate over time - tho maybe combining the two will prove to be the most simple.
still a maybe, as i need to do some research first, and decide whether detecting that pressure another way is more reliable (unsure how accurate the HP ones are).
there is functionality for a shock collar built in. this is. hmm. tempting. lol
experimentation will continue on other things. this is such a cool platform; owner could probably invent some very mean games with it once i get them up to speed.
i'll keep y'all updated as i continue refining this thing...been awhile, seems like i've had too many orgasms lately, don't you think? :)
"No reason to be alarmed, my dear patient. Your frustrations are perfectly reasonable. I've seen plenty of others with cases just like yours." Dr. Blair clasps his hands, looking over a file as he sits at his desk. "You're in need of orgasm denial therapy. Sounds extreme, I know, but you'll have to trust me for the benefit of your own health."
"First, I'll have you lay down on the table for a physical exam. Always wise to look you over in full. I'll have you undress and put on a gown, and then we'll begin. I'll listen to your heart, your breathing, and I'll feel along your neck to check for any inflammation. After that, I'll take a look inside your mouth. I'll use a depressor on your tongue, then put a pair of gloves on to inspect your teeth and gums." He pauses momentarily to light a cigarette, smoke leaving the corner of his mouth as he goes on.
"Next, of course, will be the breast exam. I'll help you untie your gown. From there, I'll place my hands on your breasts. It's imporant to feel them in order to check for lumps that may be cancerous in nature. Once you're cleared there, I'll have you disrobe entirely." The patient's eyes widen at that, but before any words are spoken, the dark-haired doctor goes on.
"Yes, I find that my patients are best examined without their gown to impede my work. While laying on the table, I'll check the range of motion in your hips and knees, moving one leg at a time up, down, and finally into the stirrups. Once your knees are properly positioned apart, I'll begin with an abdominal exam. Your pubic hair will also be shaved, if it hasn't been already." His white-coated form shifts in my chair. He makes eye contact while telling his patient the details of his plans for them.
"Prior to beginning the pelvic exam, I'll restrain you. This is in case you do any moving around. I find some of my patients consider the examination and the treatment somewhat stressful. The last thing I need is for you to fall off my table and hurt yourself. "
"Once properly secured, I'll begin with taking a few photos for the sake of documentation. After that, I'll proceed with your external examination. I'll be checking your mons pubis with some gentle pressing. Afterwards, I'll inspect your labia majora for any blemishes or abnormalities, afterwhich I'll do the same for your labia minora. I'll examine your vaginal opening, and feel for your bartholin glands." He pushes up his glasses, then making a little pinching motion with his hand for the purpose of demonstration.
"Assuming everything is in working order, we'll move to the internal examination. I'll insert one of my fingers into your vaginal canal. You may feel some mild discomfort, but the exam is to make sure your therapy will be effective. Once I've inserted my second finger," he holds up two fingers as he speaks, "and felt your vaginal walls and palpated your cervix, I'll remove my fingers and prep you for the rectovaginal exam. That will involve me inserting one finger into your anus and one finger into your vaginal canal. You'll feel me probe your vagina and rectum simultaneously, checking your rectovaginal septum and your ligaments. Once we're through, I'll remove my fingers and prepare you for stimulation." He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, tapping it on the ashtray he had set next to a stack of other patient's files. It was evident this was all too common of a proceedure.
"I find a mild sedative is best applied to my patients at this stage. After a quick injection, you'll feel relaxed and a little lightheaded. Then, the therapy will begin. I'll be using my fingers to stimulate your clitoris while asking you a series of questions regarding your sensation and pleasure. You're not meant to enjoy the proceedure, of course, but some of my patients do find themselves getting a little worked up. I'll be stimulating you for as long as I deem necessary. The therapy requires that you are kept here for daily treatment without being allowed to orgasm. Your psychosexual responses will be tracked and recorded. Once you're able to respond to the stimulation in a manner I deem efficient, you'll be released from my care. Treatment is known to last anywhere between a few weeks, to a few months. Though I have certainly had patients remain in my care for longer."
He smiles slightly, though the expression doesnt reach his eyes. His cold gaze remained unmoved behind his glasses, as he looks his latest patient over.
The doctor says I need a serious proceedure to retain my mental and physical wellbeing. I arrive in the hospital, and am asked to remove my clothes and put on a gown. The preparation seems intensive. The nurses shave me, monitor me, put me on an IV, and give me an enema while I'm in my hospital room. The doctor arrives after a number of hours. He explains little, but presses upon the urgent nature of my need for exploratory eexamination and treatment. Next, he asks me a number of questions about my sex life, preferences, identity, and my habits regarding masturbation. I answer honestly, shamefully, and the doctor only replies with the fact that what I've told him proves his feelings of urgency right. I need correction. Psychosexual adjustment. I'll be ceasing any unapproved activity, but first, they must examine the extent of the damage. I feel ashamed as I do terrified as the doctor has me transferred into a gurney and shuttled down the hallway. I shoot up in fear as soon as we reach the hallway, but the team of doctors and nurses in the room subdue me. I am stripped of my gown and restrained at the wrist. My legs are lifted into stirrups and strapped down as I feel a needle pierce my skin once again. The drug they'd chosen was only the half of it. More straps go over my body as they fit a mask over my head. If feel horribly exposed in front of these people, and worse, terrified. My mind swims through the haze of sedation as they begin to place drapes over me. My legs, body, and face all partitioned and covered. The only skin of mine showing lies directly between my legs. I try move as the doctor inspects me. They take photos and measurements, sometimes I can feel several fingers on me, making sure to inspect every inch of the outside of my vagina, my clit, and my folds. The occasional prod at my already uncomfortable anus is worse. Im only able to produce a faint groan beneath the mask strapped onto my face as I feel the doctor insert his fingers. They inspect me for what feels like hours, stimulating me, documenting me, and forcing me to orgasm on their gloved hands. They use an ultrasound, probing me, and speculums with a stretch my body can't resist because of the gas forced into my lungs. I groan in pain as I feel them press a steel rod into my cervix, fingers on my clitoris to ease the pain of the procedure. They force me to orgasm with the sound inside, behind my sheet, I weep in pain and humiliation and arousal. I cannot escape this place. Trapped here underneath the bright lights of my undoing. I can only endure it.
Hi doctor. I was wondering what you’d do for a trans boy like me, I’m on testosterone and it’s causing some issues down there. I get so horny but it hurts when daddy puts anything inside me because the testosterone has made my pussy too tight. and I’ve been having spasms in my pussy that are really ouchy when a spasm happens it’s hard to walk or do anything. Can you help me?
I think you'd require special little boy attention from the doctor. We'd need to take a look inside your pussy just to be thorough and make sure there isn't anything wrong down there, and it might be really painful to try and get a speculum inside you. Luckily we have tiny speculums for virgins that you'll appreciate because it won't feel like it's tearing you apart. Doctor can take a good long look inside you. If he touches your little dick, would it help ease the pain? If he takes it between his thumb and forefinger and rubs you, slowly squeezing you between his gloved fingers and calling you a sweet baby boy, would it take your mind off the pain?
If it hurts too much, that's alright. Doctor can give you a shot in your down there and numb that whole area. Of course, doctor is still going to touch you, but you're not going to feel a thing. He's going to try and crush your dick between his fingers and you're not going to do a thing about it. I think it'd be kind of sexy if doctor kept asking you if it hurts, and you were all numbed up. He could clamp you with a pinchy hemostat til it looked all cute and squished and purplish, and he'd even threaten to cut it off because it was so useless at that point.
Hi doctor! Quack quack! Its me, presumably your favourite duck again. I have some fun thoughts I've been thinking about lately that I thought you might like since you seem to like some of my other ramblings hehe. I wish I could write like you so I could flesh out my ideas more. I need a medical procedure that makes me more confident in writing hehe. 🐣
I've been using a (pink!) tens unit for pain lately and it had me thinking. A doctor prescribing electric shocks to a patient who has trouble keeping her hands out of her pants. Maybe some magically remote sticky pads at first. A hand goes too close to the special place? ZAP! Mommy or Daddy have a remote to use it when they like but maybe it also has a censor. Everytime I put my hand too close the shock is stronger and longer- even if I'm not even trying to do the naughty thing. The shock is eventually so strong and long that I break into crying convulsions and beg for them to be removed. Daddy says I look like a bug that's been rolled onto its back with twitching legs.
Maybe it doesn't stop me and I just become more distressed. They take me back to the doctor who recommends electric shock therapy. I scream and cry but they've already started the intake. A gurney with pink restraints is wheeled in by nurses who are much bigger and older than me. I try to dart under the desk but I'm dragged out and strapped down easily. They're quickly moving me to a dark scary operating theatre. They're cutting my clothes so I'm the only one naked in the room and it's so so so embarassing because they're so covered in scrubs and masks and I'm fully exposed. I can barely wiggle and I can't hide all my private places from them.
They cover me in sticky pads on all the sensitive spots, my breasts and between my thighs. They're clamping jumper cable clamps onto my nipples like a scene from those horror movies I'm not allowed to watch and it hurts already. They push a tube into my peehole but they don't explain why they're doing anything. It's scary. My legs are spread with the bed and the surgeon appears inbetween my thighs with a big metal rod that he pushes into my special place and then another one he feeds so far up inside my backside I swear I can feel it in my tummy.
I'm so scared, I can't stop crying and begging out for my caregiver. I promise I won't touch anymore but it's too late. My jaw is wrenched open and they push a rubber pacifier in my mouth that they strap behind my head. There's a small tube blowing sweet air through the pacifier into my mouth. When I suck on it more of the sweet taste comes out and my body feels more relaxed. My head doesn't though. The surgeons and nurses are working around me like I'm not there and murmuring things with words so big I can't understand them. I'm afraid but I can't move, there's no escape. I just cry and wait for the first shock that I know will be horrifically painful. 😔💛
Yeah, listen, back in the day doctors would take masturbation very seriously. Gets you addicted to touching yourself, always needing to self-soothe and calm yourself down, but makes you cranky and irritable. Doctors don't like patients who misbehave and relish the opportunity to make people into good boys or good girls through very special treatments.
Yeah, little electric shocks to the pussy or penis to keep your hands out of your pants!! But also regular visits to the doctor to keep you nice and disciplined when Monmy or Daddy even SUSPECT you've been sneaking a quick lil rub down there. Doctor will hurt you so bad you'll want to keep your legs closed for weeks and weeks, sticking things inside you, stretching you out, shoving tubes into your peehole and warning you that's what you'll get if Doctor has to see you again. Even if you're crying and saying you didn't masturbate and that Daddy is lying, a little punishment to keep Daddy's house in order is a good idea. It makes for tired and scared and well behaved little ones.
Eventually doctors can rewire their brains with well placed shocks. Train them into doing whatever their Daddies and Mommies want, zapping them with so much juice they become a useless mess on the floor and Daddy or Mommy can do whatever do them because they are very very agreeable after that. Not even the shocks, but all they have to do is pull out their phones and say, I'm calling up doctor's office and scheduling an appointment. Littles haul ass and even give their Mommies and Daddies a kiss while they're at it.
Been fantasizing about living with my own personal doctor… who takes good care of his special patient.
Takes me to my room and tells me they are getting me ready for treatment… they connect me to an ecg… a nasal cannula is put on my face… pulse oxymeter on my finger.
I turn my head and look at the million machines by my bedside… the cardiac monitor… the ivs… the oxygen tanks…
A ball gag holds my mouth open
- dont want you biting or screaming baby - im told
I then get tied down, an oxygen mask goes over the cannula and the gag. The elastic tight against my cheeks.
I can help but stare at my self in the mirror at my right.
A vibrator between my legs. It turns on
- we are going to have fun are we? - they say sweetly as they run a hand trough my hair.
- look at what a pretty patient you are… my good girl…-
They stay always at my side, the vibe buzzing away as i loose myself… staring at that poor girl in the mirror, breathing through tubes and wired up… drooling as she bites and sucks on the gag between her teeth.
thinking about a gynecologist that offers non-surgical hymenectomies as a service. their argument is that it’s safer to do in a clinic than it is to do at home or with a sexual partner. they do say however that their service tries to emulate “the real thing” as close as possible. first they do a thorough examination, poking and prodding you with tools. with your legs restrained in the stirrups they insert a speculum, not being able to open it too far because of how tight you are. “it seems that you’re a perfect candidate for this procedure,” they say, so you begin. they begin undressing, taking out their cock/strap. no matter how many times you ask, they assure you this is all apart of the procedure and it has an 100% success rate. the procedure hurts a bit since it’s your first time doing anything like that, but the doctor tells you that all of this is completely medical and there’s nothing to worry about.
Waiting room with hypnotic traps everywhere. Soothing music with hidden messages. Staticky TV with flashing subliminals. Magazines with hypnotic inductions and propaganda. A cheery blank-eyed receptionist frequently checking in on you to reassure you that you’ll be ready to submit soon~
The TV was busted, and the captions didn’t quite match up with what was being said. It flickered to static every once in a while, but you found yourself watching it nonetheless.
A magazine sat limply in your hand. You’d reread the first paragraph several times before giving up *it feels so good to give up*-
A pamphlet on the side said in bold, bright letters *Are you tired of having thoughts?*
“Number 28?” The receptionist called out. Someone staggered to their feet, eyes struggling to stay open. “You’re ready for Phase 2.” They walked down the hall.
You glanced at your number. 5. She was counting down.
How long had it been? You didn’t really care. This was a waiting room, and all you had to worry about was waiting.
I want a doctor to tell me it's absolutely necessary they manually examine my tcock and butthole as well as the rest of my body so they can assess if the hrt is working properly. I want them to take measurements of my dick when it's soft, then stimulate me to assure it's maximum length before measuring it again.
Oh, they have a colleague who has never had a trans patient before, surely I won't mind if they come and take a look at me too, yeah?
Then one of them could stretch my ass with their gloved fingers and the other would present how to properly stroke and tease my swollen cock till I'm trembling and moaning...
Of course they would tell me out loud what they're doing and how important it is I relax in the meantime, that's a standard procedure, nothing to worry about :)
I want a doctor to tell me it's absolutely necessary they manually examine my tcock and butthole as well as the rest of my body so they can assess if the hrt is working properly. I want them to take measurements of my dick when it's soft, then stimulate me to assure it's maximum length before measuring it again.
Oh, they have a colleague who has never had a trans patient before, surely I won't mind if they come and take a look at me too, yeah?
Then one of them could stretch my ass with their gloved fingers and the other would present how to properly stroke and tease my swollen cock till I'm trembling and moaning...
Of course they would tell me out loud what they're doing and how important it is I relax in the meantime, that's a standard procedure, nothing to worry about :)
I love hospital and doctor scenarios. Like the imagery of a boy lying in a hospital bed, weak and scared as the doctor pulls back the blanket and hospital gown to reveal a round protruding belly. The boy feels embarrassed by it and vulnerable as the the doctor feels it with cold hands. Or maybe there's a lot of people in the room like medical students.
They're taking turns feeling and listening to the belly with stethoscopes making remarks about the inhuman creature that's growing inside. This is terrifying the boy as he feels the constant squirming in his tummy. They do an ultrasound but won't let him see the screen or answer any of his questions. He's in tears by the time they leave without a word.
One nurse takes pitty on him a tries to offer some words of comfort "don't worry you're going to be just fine" she says with a pat on his belly. He's then left on his own again feeling sick as he watches his swollen belly shift with the movement of whatevers inside.
omg yesss I love medical/hospital scenarios too, the fear they feel as they're strapped down to a bed or table surrounded by doctors, belly huge and swollen but having no idea what's inside. The poor boy doesn't understand what they're talking about and none of the doctors even look at his face as he tries to ask them what their doing or what's going on, he's just their test subject and all their interested in is what's growing in his tummy.
Even later when the thing inside his belly starts to hurt him, growing too big for his tummy to contain or thrashing against his thin sensitive skin, they don't give him anything to help. They need their data to be perfect and unaltered by pain meds, so they ignore his screams and cries for help while he thrashes and pulls against his restraints, watching his writhing tummy in horror as they let it grow and grow with no end in sight
I went into a fugue state and wrote nine thousand words about an overworked corporate drone being brainwashed for their own good.
Masterlist > Next
tw: brainwashing, conditioning, dehumanization, drugging, humiliation, hypnosis, restraints, corporate culture, weight insecurity mentioned, a little kinky
"Welcome to the Brainwashing Department! You must be today's test subject. We're happy to have you!"
Quinn stared in disbelief at the receptionist's guileless and strangely familiar smile. "You're awfully cheerful about this, aren't you?"
"Well, I love my job," he said without the slightest trace of malevolence. "As I'm sure you know, the Brainwashing Department is critically important to the organization. Without us, we wouldn't have sleeper agents, puppet politicians, memory erasure... and it's interesting work, too. No two subjects are the same." He glanced at Quinn's badge and then at their face. "Say, I recognize you. You're from IT, aren't you? You're the one who always unlocks my laptop when I forget my password!"
Oh, shit, that's where they remembered this guy. Quinn wasn't sure what they found more mortifying: the fact that they'd been recognized, or the idea of letting a guy who obviously didn't know how to work a laptop be in charge of human minds. Maybe he'd been a test subject, and it affected his brain... although considering what Quinn had signed up for, that wasn't at all comforting.
"Yeah, I'm from IT," said Quinn. "Can we get started? I'd prefer to get this over with."
The receptionist laughed. "You seem like you could use a vacation. Good thing you're here. No better vacation than a vacation from your thoughts, right?" He pushed a button on his phone. "Dr. Moon, your test subject has arrived."
Quinn played with their phone and tried not to look like an anxious wreck as they waited for the doctor. This was such an awful idea, but they didn't have much of a choice.
---
"You used to be my favorite minion. I hate to see your potential go down the drain, and I'd really, really hate to have to put you on a performance improvement plan," their boss had said. "You know, just because we're in the business of underground supervillainy doesn't mean we don't value our employees' mental health. You should take a vacation, recharge yourself."
"I'm out of PTO," said Quinn.
Their boss leaned over her desk with a frightening look in her eye. "Have you happened to see the fliers the Brainwashing Department has been posting?"
Oh, they didn't like where this was headed. "The ones looking for compliant test subjects? The ones promising a $5000 bonus and a month of PTO?"
"Exactly! Doesn't that solve your problem?"
"The month of PTO is just the month you spend as their brainwashed test subject."
"Details," she said with a handwave. "You get PTO and a chance to relax --"
"-- by being drugged and hypnotized out of my skull --"
"--and you'll come back refreshed and ready to work."
"Presumably because you'll get them to brainwash me to be a better employee."
"See, everyone wins!" she said. "I highly recommend that you volunteer."
And that was that. Quinn certainly didn't have the clout to argue, especially when they were at risk of being at the bottom of the stack ranking. You didn't want to get stack ranked in this organization. It usually involved poison in your cafeteria rations.
---
"Quinn? You're a volunteer for brainwashing testing, right?"
Quinn looked up to see a middle-aged woman wearing the aquamarine jumpsuit of the higher-status employees, along with a lab coat and a pair of enormous round glasses. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she had a strangely warm smile given her profession.
"I'm Quinn, and yeah."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Dr. Moon," she said, holding out her hand for a shake, and her hands felt warm as well. "Thank you for volunteering. It's critically important that we have adequate testing subjects for refining our process, before we have to use the techniques on important targets. So many employees are frightened of our department, even though our work is really quite pleasant. You don't have anything to worry about, though. I promise that your mind is good hands here."
"Good to know," they said. "Hopefully I can give you some good data." It really wasn't the competency of the Brainwashing Department that worried them -- they'd seen their results firsthand. If anything, they were perhaps a little too competent.
"I'm sure your data will be invaluable. Now, if you could follow me..." She turned and swiped her keycard at the double doors next to the reception desk, ushering Quinn inside.
They stood in a short, sterile, and blindingly white hallway with several doors on each side and another large set of double glass doors at the end. "Those doors lead to the primary brainwashing floor," Dr. Moon said, gesturing to the end of the hallway. "But first, I'm going to have you go into one of our prep rooms."
She slid her keycard on one of the side doors, which opened up to a small room with some lockers, a shower, and a bench. "Put your uniform and any personal effects -- except your glasses and anything medically necessary -- in the locker. Then, take a shower using the provided soap and dress in the clothes you find in the locker. Make sure you clip your identification tag to the gown, so we don't lose you."
"Wouldn't want that to happen."
"When you're done, just press the button and I'll be back to guide you to the next phase," she said. "Take your time. We're in no hurry."
Quinn shut the door behind them. They stripped off their sneakers, a pair of socks adorned with little green alien heads, and the gray jumpsuit that marked their middling status in the organization. The hot water felt great as they stepped into the shower, and the soap was pleasantly scented with lavender. It would've been relaxing if the shower hadn't given them a chance to be alone with their own thoughts.
Were they really going through with this? They could've told their boss no, but that would've just ended badly. The terms of the test subject agreement guaranteed that the process would be reversed at the end, but it wasn't like they trusted that. They knew what the Brainwashing Department was capable of. They could wipe any memories they didn't want them to have, they could implant suggestions of being more loyal and eager to work, they could humiliate them in so many ways, they could simply leave them brainwashed permanently...
Quinn sighed. This was absolutely going to suck, but there was no use worrying. It wasn't like they were going to turn back now.
The provided outfit was a soft blue cotton hospital gown and padded socks. They were quite comfortable, but made Quinn feel entirely too exposed and vulnerable without their familiar jumpsuit. The badge they clipped to the gown had their name, picture, subject number, and a series of codes designating the brainwashing procedures they were going to undergo. Quinn didn't know enough about the department's work to know what the codes meant.
They pressed the button.
A few minutes later, Dr. Moon entered the room. "I hope you had a nice shower. Let's get you into the other room to do a few necessary checks."
The next room was a bit like a doctor's office. "I'll need you to stand on that scale, please," said Quinn.
"Is that really necessary?" They fucking hated this part of the doctor's visit.
"It's not for judgement or shaming, really! We just need accurate weight to make sure the medication dosage is correct. It's for your own safety. You don't even need to look."
Somehow, even the idea of being weighed for brainwashing drugs was preferable to being shamed again. They didn't look as they stood on the scale, and Dr. Moon made no comment.
"Now, if you'll sit on the table for a minute, please," she said. "Let me just check your breathing... your eyes and ears..."
Quinn sat as still as they could as Dr. Moon pressed a stethoscope to their chest and shined a light in their eyes, but they couldn't keep their knee from bouncing.
"Any vision or hearing problems, other than your need for glasses?"
"No."
"Any disabilities we should be aware of? Here in the Brainwashing Department, we pride ourselves on our commitment to diversity. We'll adjust our procedures to accommodate any disability, mental or physical, to ensure that everyone can safely and easily fall under our control."
"Uh. Not that I know of." Quinn most certainly was not going to spill their mental health difficulties to this woman. She'd probably have access to all of Quinn's secrets soon enough... ugh, they'd rather not think about that.
"All right, then. If you're ready, I can lead you to the brainwashing floor and we can get started on your procedure."
"I'm not sure I can be any more ready than I am right now, so..."
"I know it must seem nerve-wracking, but trust me, once we get started you won't be worried at all."
"That doesn't especially ease my worries."
They followed Dr. Moon through the double doors and into the main brainwashing floor. Here, thirty of the organization's brainwashing devices were arranged in neat rows, big plush reclining chairs with restraints and screens and medical tools. They were all currently occupied by people of all ages and types undergoing procedures. Most of the people were half-asleep and watching hypnotic screens, mouthing words under their breath, hooked up to gas tanks and IV lines containing the drug cocktails that made them docile and malleable. Some were being induced, surrounded by staff monitoring their vitals as they went under. Others had a staff member drilling commands into their minds. One woman at the back was thrashing and fighting as the department staff wrangled her into restraints and into a mask.
Quinn had long been desensitized to the brainwashing floor. After all, when you worked for an organization like this one, morals flew out the window with your first paycheck. The work they did was necessary to keep the organization going, and honestly less messy and more humane than some of the other departments. Quinn had had to come here plenty of times to help troubleshoot problems with the machines, and had swiftly learned to tune out the droning hypnotic inductions and sounds of quiet struggle.
But it certainly hit differently now that Quinn knew they were destined for one of the devices. They couldn't help but imagine themselves in a chair, watching a hypnotic screen with a dazed smile and glassy eyes. The idea made their skin crawl with the fear they'd been shoving aside until now. They hated the idea of not being in control, and especially the idea of other people seeing them helpless and vulnerable. But that fate was now inevitable. They weren't kidding themselves about their ability to resist. Dr. Moon would probably turn them into a drooling, tranced-out mess by lunchtime.
At least they'd get some good sleep for a change. Chemically-induced sleep with a side of mind warping, sure, but sleep nonetheless.
Lab whump dialogue, but it's things my housemate's said about her lab rats
She's a bio med student, and all testing at the lab is done as humanely as possible. This is not the place for debates on this topic: I simply wanted to share how an actual lab whumper would probably talk.
"When I come in with food, they jump up at the bars! It's so cute!"
"I mean yeah, they're on a diet experiment, so that response makes sense. But still!"
"We have a bunch of old ones, too. They're just like, too done with everything to care, they're great."
"I like giving them apple slices, and petting them. They're so cute, and I think they trust me now! It's too bad I'm giving them tumors and stuff."
(literally 10 minutes gushing on how cute they are, and how they like to cuddle up when they're comfortable.)
"They are so smart! It doesn't do them any good, though. Would probably be better off if they weren't."
"One of them almost escaped today. No clue how they did it, I swear they were on an IV and restrained and everything. I turn around for five seconds, and there they went!"
"I was almost tempted to let them go. Like, you've earned it, at that point."
ANIMAL/WHUMPEE DEATH CW
"I could take them home instead of putting them down, I could. Just write them out of the system. If no one checks the freezer, they won't know. But the landlord doesn't allow pets. Even if he did, where would I put 20 of them?"
"Obviously, we do it as humane as possible. The quickest way is decapitation, but that freaks the others out a lot and it's gruesome. So we gas them. It should be painless, but.. there are stress responses."
"I was holding one of them that had died for like 10 minutes, because I didn't know where to put it. I was a bit surprised at how little I felt. I suppose that's natural."
