Did She Volunteer? - Part 4
Emily gets the full treatment.
Emily awoke in her bed, her wrists and ankles loosely restrained. She could barely keep her eyes open. The remnants of the sedative swirled in her mind like fog, but she could feel the restraints on her limbs. Her brain was foggy. She was not sure which parts of her fragmented memories were real which were her “delirium”.
Did she really see Sarah again? How many “procedures” did they do on her, if any at all, she couldn’t remember. All was a blur.
Her stomach churned as she recalled Sarah's warning. They were doing something. The nurse had said it was "routine”. She recalled that many “procedures” she had assisted before, like egg extractions and embryo implantations were “routine”, too. Was she implanted?
Emily became more aware from the sudden adrenaline rush and noticed something felt... wrong… A deep, gnawing discomfort sat in her abdomen. Her body heavy in ways she couldn’t explain. She shifted slightly in the hospital bed, wincing at the ache that radiated through her core.
How long had it been since her “ruptured cyst”? How long had she been here?
The heart monitor beside her started to beep faster as her head started to clear and the fear inside her chest grew. Her hand trembled as she touched her stomach, and she froze.
There was a fullness there—a rounded heaviness pressing against her palm. Emily’s breath caught in her throat. No. No, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Panic surged through her, and she tried to push herself upright with a strangled gasp. The movement sent a sharp pain through her abdomen, and the beeping of monitor started to become frantic.
Almost instantly, the door swung open. A nurse hurried in, her face composed but eyes wary. "Emily, you're awake," she said, far too calm.
Emily yanked the blanket down and stared in horror at the unmistakable swell of her belly beneath the thin hospital gown. She pulled up her gown to reveal her pregnant tummy, with disbelief, her trembling hands pressed against the firm, taut skin.
"What... what is this? What did you do to me!?"
The nurse hesitated, her lips pursing. "Emily, you need to stay calm—"
"Calm?" Emily's voice cracked, hysteria creeping in.
"Who did this to me?!" She struggled against the restraints, tugging at them, trying to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but her limbs were weak, uncoordinated, and restrained.
"Emily," the nurse warned, stepping closer. "You need to rest."
"I'm leaving," she snapped, trying to get off the bed, but the restraints held her in place. She sagged back into the bed, gasping.
The nurse gave up trying to console her and returned with a syringe. Before Emily could react, she felt a sharp sting in her arm. Her eyes snapped to the IV line, realizing too late the nurse had injected something into it.
“No, no, please…” Emily’s vision blurred, her body sinking heavily into the bed as if it were swallowing her whole. “You can’t… do this…I need to get out…”
Her eyelids fluttered closed against her will, and darkness claimed her again.
The next few days remained a blur. She tried to clear her brain, to think. At first, she begged. Then, she screamed. But no one listened. The doctors, the nurses, they only murmured soothing words, pressing her back down, whispering that she needed to rest, to stop struggling.
She resisted the injections but the more she resisted, the more they sedated her. It became a groggy haze, fleeting awareness, and then the sharp prick of a needle. Every time she tried to fight, they subdued her.
Then after one particular incident when she refused food, spilled the tray and managed to kick a nurse in the face, they decided that it was time for the “SOP”.
“What SOP!? Let me go!” She continued to struggle and scream. Her frustration mounting.
“Surrogate Override Protocol,” said one of the nurses with a hint of cold satisfaction.
“I am not a surrogate!” She screamed with all the energy she had. The nurses ignored and she sensed something was afoot. The nurse returned with a loaded syringe. Her eyes cold and determined, ready to dispense punishment. Another nurse started removing all the electrodes and cables connected to her.
Two orderlies came in with a gurney. Emily struggled for her dear life. At the signal of the nurse with the syringe, they all held her down onto the bed, immobilizing her. Then the nurse injected the content in the syringe into her IV port. Emily felt the strength drained from her limbs. They felt unnaturally heavy. Her struggles slowed to a stop. Then her vision started to blur. The room became so bright she could barely open her eyes.
She was transferred to the gurney and the party left for its unknown destination. The overhead lights of the corridors flashed by. She wanted them to stop, but she was totally helpless.
They reached what looked like a pre-op preparation room. The gynecologist chair with its gleaming stirrups stood ominously in the middle. The nurses positioned her in the stirrups, leaving her legs splayed wide. Then she saw a nurse with an apron rolling a trolley of sterile bags of transparent tubes — the catheters. She tried to struggle but she barely moved.
“Shhh… “ The nurse that got kicked came up to her. Her cold gloved hands rested on her forehead, pressing her down. “You will be fine, we will take good care of you from now on. No more dramas.” She said, with a hint of satisfaction.
Emily panicked but the drug kept her docile. The cold, foreign tubes, which she recognised as catheters, threatened to render her even more helpless.
The nurse in charge, her face neutral and almost detached, leaned over Emily’s legs, her gloved hands moving with practiced precision. "We’re starting now, Emily," she said firmly, her voice had no warmth, no comfort. "Just try to relax."
Before Emily could protest, she felt the coldness in her groin area as the nurse coated it generously with chlorhexidine. Then she felt gloved fingers spreading her labia and the cool lubricated tip of the urinary catheter. With careful pressure, she guided the tip into Emily’s urethra.
Emily gasped, her body rebelling against the intrusion. The feeling was unnatural—cold, sterile, and deeply invasive. The catheter slid deeper, and Emily’s body instinctively tried to contract.
Emily’s breath came in shallow bursts. The pressure of the catheter inside her was already uncomfortable, but it wasn’t until she felt the next step that her panic truly began to spike. The nurse who was inserting the catheter adjusted the syringe in her hand and then slowly began to inject fluid into the small balloon at the tip of the catheter. It was a strange, foreign feeling—a fullness deep inside her. The pressure was not yet painful, but it was intense, and it seemed to fill her up in a way that made her feel even more helpless. She felt invaded, intruded.
The balloon inflated steadily, and Emily could feel it stretching, pushing against the inner walls of her urethra, keeping the catheter securely in place.
"There," the nurse said, almost matter-of-factly, once the balloon was fully inflated. "Now we can move on to the next one."
Emily’s mind reeled, her thoughts a jumble of confusion, panic, and helplessness. She had no time to process the first intrusion before the nurses moved on to the next step.
One of the nurses at Emily’s side shifted her position, guiding her hips lower while lifting her knees higher. Emily could feel the buttocks rising. She felt the cold swabbing of the chlorhexidine around her anus this time. Then the cool, lubricated tip of a gloved finger touched her anus and penetrated. Her body stiffened in response. The idea of another catheter, a more invasive one, made her stomach twist.
The nurse at her side spoke again, but her tone had changed—it was softer, almost patronizing, like she was speaking to a child. "Emily, you’re doing great. Just relax for me," she cooed. "It’ll be over soon."
Before Emily could respond, she felt the tip of the rectal catheter gently pressing inside her. It was more intrusive, bigger and deeper than the first. Emily flinched, her body refusing to relax, but the nurses held her firmly in place. The nurse inserting the catheter didn’t stop.
Emily gasped, her eyes wide with discomfort. She wanted to push it out, to move, to escape, but she couldn’t. The nurses held her down, their hands firm on her body, ensuring she stayed still. She could feel the catheter pressing deeper, and the sense of violation that came with it made her stomach churn.
Once the catheter was positioned, the nurse turned her attention to the balloon at the base of it. "We need to inflate this one as well," the nurse said, and Emily could hear the faintest hint of satisfaction in her voice.
Emily felt the pressure building once again as the balloon slowly inflated inside her. It wasn’t just the physical discomfort—it was the sheer helplessness of being unable to stop it, of being trapped in a body while the nurses violated her. The balloon expanded, pressing against her walls, the pressure building inside her, a constant reminder that the catheter was there to stay.
Emily wanted to scream, to beg them to stop, but her throat felt dry, the words stuck inside her. Her body was still, legs locked in the stirrups with the tubes extending visibly from her orifices. The nurse stepped back, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.
"There," she said, her tone flat as she tugged at both catheters. “Nice and secure.”
The other nurses began to move away, and Emily could feel their eyes on her, but no one spoke. The nurse who had been holding her shoulders in place gave her a final, almost condescending smile before stepping back.
Then they started to focus on her head. Nurses started to stand closer to her face with a trolley in tow. There were more tubes on it. A nurse lifted Emily’s head and held it against her bossoms, holding it in place. “Just relax. It will be over soon,” said the nurse. Then Emily heard another nurse’s voice, a calming murmur of reassurance as she explained each step of the process.
“I’m going to start by cleaning the inside of your nose, Emily. It will feel cool, but it shouldn’t hurt.”
Emily felt a chill on her skin as the nurse gently swabbed around her nostrils. The sensation was oddly invasive. She tried to turn her head away but the nurse holding her head tightened her grip. Emily couldn’t shake the sense that something worse than the catheters was about to happen.As the nurse prepped the tube, Emily’s breath caught in her throat. They’re going to put something down my nose. The thought made her stomach turn.
The nurse held up the thin, flexible tube, its length long and intimidating. Emily’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as the cold tip of the feeding tube brushed against the inside of her nostril. It was a sensation she had tried to ignore, but the moment it made contact, a wave of panic surged through her chest.
**No, no, no, I can’t do this.** Her mind screamed it, but only slurred sounds came from her throat.
She tried to pull away, her body instinctively recoiling. The tube felt cold, and her throat clenched at the thought of it sliding down. “Emily, you need to stay still,” the nurse’s voice was firm, but calm, her hands cupping Emily’s cheeks, holding her steady.
But Emily couldn't control the panic that gripped her. Her chest felt tight, her stomach twisting in revolt. She twisted her body, attempting to escape the nurse’s hands. The more she struggled, more hands started to grip her, pressing her down, immobilizing her. It felt like the world was closing in, the small room growing suffocating with every second the tube remained poised at the back of her throat.
**I can’t breathe,** she thought, as her vision began to blur with tears. She gasped for air, her pulse racing in her throat.
Emily struggled against the hands holding her, her strength returning.“Please,” she gasped. “Please don’t—don’t put it in.”
But the nurses’ hands felt like an unmovable weight. She couldn’t escape. They were holding her down, forcing her body to stay still, her head locked in place.
Tears streamed down her face as she felt the tube inching deeper into her nostril. It felt as if something were blocking her throat, her airway constricting around it. She choked, but the nurse holding her head steadied her, her grip like a vise.
Emily could feel the tube move slowly down, the sensation of it traveling deeper, past her throat, and into her stomach.
A moment of silence followed, the pressure suddenly easing as the tube finally settled into place. Emily lay there, breathless and trembling, tears staining her cheeks and the nurse's scrub.The nurses slowly released their grip, stepping back slightly. The one she kicked watched her with a sadistic satisfaction.
Emily’s chest heaved as she fought to calm her breathing. The nurse checked for correct placement, aspirating stomach contents to confirm. It was only when they secured the tube with tape that Emily, still hazy, realized she had been defeated.
She saw from the corner of her eyes a nurse injected something into the IV port. The drug flowed up her vein quickly, the cold spreading. Her world started to spin again.
“Sleep now, Emily. We will take good care of you. We will wake you up when the baby is at full term.”
Emily tried to comprehend what it meant but she was unable to focus. The nurses unbound her from the table and transferred her with all the tubes hanging from her orifices onto the waiting gurney. There was no more fight left in Emily.
As she was transported along the corridor, she was pulled into oblivion.
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