Asylum Box Set

by Sian B. Claven

  The pain was so intense that he eventually passed out.

  ——

  When Bradley woke up the next day, he was not tied to his bed as he thought he would be, nor were his pants around his legs. He was, however, in a great deal of pain, and he quickly got up to relieve himself. It was the most painful shit he had ever taken in his life. Inspecting the toilet paper after he wiped himself, he was horrified to discover the amount of blood it held.

  Had it not been a dream? It couldn’t have been. Perhaps the orderlies had raped him, and his drug induced mind had created the midget in a moment of hysteria. He could believe that. He had to speak to Dr Brock or Dr Wellbottom or someone in charge. They had to know what the orderlies were doing to their patients.

  His starved stomach grumbled. He flushed the toilet and used toilet paper to clean it as best he could before flushing it again. Gagging, he then scooped out clean water to drink, trying to catch it before it was too far down into the bowl and therefore contaminated.

  He was so thirsty, and there was no tap in his room. Perhaps he could go shower and drink that water. Shower. He hadn’t been cleaned since he arrived. Surely that was another human right they were violating. He needed to reach his lawyer and confer with him. He would be let out free at the end of this, just for the way they had treated him.

  No one came for him. He watched the sun cross the sky from the little window in his room, and no one came. No one brought food or something to drink, and no one came to collect him for a session with Dr Brock.

  He remembered the nurse he had raped and realised they might be punishing him for that. By all means, they should call the police and have him arrested. He would plead sane and rather go to jail than stay another night in this place.

  Bradley eventually fell into a fitful sleep, constantly waking up and looking around him for the orderlies, afraid they would attack him yet again.

  ——

  Chapter Three

  The sun rose the following day brightly. Bradley had hardly slept, worried the orderlies would attack him again in his sleep. He needn’t have bothered; no one came to his cell at all.

  He drank from the toilet again, to keep up his strength, and sat in the corner, to figure out how many days it had been since he last ate.

  The door opened, and there stood Kevin and Cooper, looking particularly cheerful.

  “Up, convict,” Cooper said.

  “I know what you did,” Bradley said.

  “We woke you up?” Kevin suggested, grabbing Bradley by one arm and forcing him to his feet.

  “No, I know you raped me.” He glared at Cooper. “And you won’t get away with it.”

  “Disgusting!” Cooper shook his head as he took Bradley’s other arm to drag him from the room. “Why the fuck would we want to rape your ass?”

  “Because of what I did to that nurse.” He looked between the two men. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Dr Brock wants you in the basement.” Cooper didn’t look at him while he said it and Bradley got worried.

  “Why to the basement? We have our sessions in the office.” He tried to pull away, but they held on.

  “You’ve been upgraded,” Cooper said.

  They went down several flights of stairs before reaching the entrance of the Asylum that Bradley was brought through when he arrived. Dr Wellbottom stood there, talking to a nurse.

  “Dr Wellbottom! Dr Wellbottom!” Bradley called. “Please, sir, please, they haven’t fed me for days, and the orderlies raped me. These two raped me.” He screamed it with all his might.

  Dr Wellbottom looked at him and shrugged, turning back to the nurse as though Bradley hadn’t said a thing.

  “They raped me!” he shrieked. “They raped me and haven’t fed me in days. I demand to see my lawyer. I want my lawyer!” His voice got higher and higher.

  “Someone sedate Walker,” Dr Wellbottom called. “He’s disturbing the other patients.”

  “Yes, doctor,” Cooper responded, injecting directly into Bradley’s neck and whispering in his ear, “Nighty night, princess.”

  Feeling completely stoned, he needed to be supported by Cooper and Kevin as they half-carried, half-dragged him away from Dr Wellbottom towards a set of stairs to the right of the entrance. They didn’t seem to care that they were hurting him as they hauled him down, but then Bradley was too stoned to care as well.

  Once they reached the bottom, they took him to a room and strapped him to a chair.

  “The doctor will be with you shortly, sweetheart,” Kevin said, chuckling at his own joke.

  Cooper smiled at him and smacked Bradley in the face. “Come on, we want you awake for this, convict.”

  “Hmmm,” was all Bradley could manage, his head rolling from side to side.

  Dr Brock entered, and the orderlies straightened, retreating to a corner of the room as he started to examine Bradley.

  “What did you give him?” he demanded. “You will ruin the experiment! Did you sedate him?”

  “It was Dr Wellbottom’s orders sir,” Cooper said, shivering, clearly afraid of the doctor.

  “Dammit, it’ll take too long to wear off. Tate? Tate?” Dr Brock said, slapping Bradley’s face lightly. “Tate, I’m going to give you something to help you get through our session today.”

  Bradley tried to tell Dr Brock that he was mistaken, that he was not Tate, but he couldn’t seem to form the words or move his mouth at all, other than to drool a little. He watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Dr Brock prepared an injection and jammed it into his leg.

  “That should get you up and ready,” Dr Brock said.

  Bradley wasn’t sure what he was given, but he still felt stoned. A tug in his gut was followed by the strangest dizzy feeling.

  “You’ll have to assist him today,” Dr Brock was saying, “otherwise it is a perfectly good day wasted.”

  “Yes, doctor,” the orderlies chorused and came forward to aid Bradley to his feet.

  They helped him into the next room, where three gurneys stood next to each other, each with somebody lying on them, bottoms exposed.

  Bile rose up his throat, but he choked it back, scared that he’d be punished for throwing up. He didn’t know what was going on and struggled to understand what he was doing here, and how the doctor could have confused him for Tate.

  Kevin’s hands were on him, undoing the drawstring of his pants, pulling them down. It was only then that Bradley understood the tug in his gut was his body creating an erection, a glorious and beautiful erection. Bradley couldn’t help but giggle at his penis as he looked at it, wondering why on earth he would be aroused now of all times. It didn’t make sense.

  Nothing made sense.

  Cooper and Kevin helped him edge closer to the nearest form, and he could feel Kevin’s hand on his dick, guiding it towards the body. Bradley wanted to pull away, repulsed, but still had no control. Kevin continued to guide his dick, and soon Cooper was pushing Bradley from behind, so he was forced to enter the anus of the unmoving form on the gurney.

  It felt weird. Tight, but disgusting, and it made Bradley gag.

  Kevin let go of him and supported his weight as Cooper moved his hips, guiding him in and out as he fucked whoever was on the table. Outwardly warm, inside felt dead against his cock, cold and lifeless. Whoever it was didn’t even seem to care about being fucked by some guy on drugs. Maybe she was also drugged.

  What kind of place was this?

  After what felt like an eternity of Cooper and Kevin making him screw whoever it was he was screwing, they supported his weight once more and went to the next table, and the next person, and repeated the process. It was wrong, Bradley knew that, but the drugs were taking forever to wear off.

  The worst part was a growing pain in his groin, similar to having blue balls. Whatever Dr Brock had given him, it had created his erection, but he couldn’t cum, and without that relief, he was starting to hurt. Still, they used his body to shag the people on the tables.

&nbs
p; After a few rounds with the third one, Dr Brock came in and evaluated the situation.

  “He didn’t ejaculate at all?” Dr Brock asked.

  “No, sir,” Cooper said, “and he’s had all three of them.”

  “It must be a combination of the drugs. I see he still has an erection.”

  “It’s swollen,” Kevin observed. “Maybe that’s why he can’t cum.”

  “So glad to know there’s another doctor in the house,” Dr Brock said, still seething that they had sedated Bradley before bringing him downstairs.

  Kevin fell silent.

  “Right, we’ll have to drain him, and then you can take him up to the day room to recover, You’ll have to restrain him, mind you,” Dr Brock added, “or he might hurt himself. Bring him to the lab and strap him to the table.”

  The two orderlies obeyed immediately and carried Bradley, almost gently with Dr Brock watching, through to the laboratory where they tied him to a gurney. They then stepped out of the way.

  Dr Brock approached the table with a needle in hand and looked down at Bradley. “This is going to hurt, Tate, but unfortunately, despite your progress, we need to do it, or you could have permanent damage and erectile dysfunction, and we don’t want that.”

  “Not Tate,” Bradley mumbled, but Dr Brock ignored him.

  The next thing he knew, Dr Brock inserted the needle into his penis, and the most searing pain filled his body. He wanted to scream but couldn’t do more than groan loudly. It was as though he was trapped in his own body. After a few moments of agony, which felt as if it would never end, there was an uncomfortable tug as the needle was removed, and Bradley actually felt relief as his erection abated.

  The orderlies came forward and dressed him, before helping him to his feet and escorting him up the stairs, through the building and back to the day room, where they promptly tied him to the chair as though nothing had happened.

  ——

  Still a bit groggy, Bradley looked around at the various other patients and wondered how many of them had undergone Dr Brock’s treatment.

  Mary Sue-Ellen was there, humping the chair as usual. She saw him and bounced straight up, excited to see him. He pulled at his restraints and then remembered it was only a dream. Hysteria had led him to believe she raped him.

  He didn’t realise how very wrong he was until she reached him and yanked up her skirt to reveal the crudely stitched on penis.

  “Want some more?” she cooed, rubbing her limp appendage over his hand. “Want to finish what we started last night?”

  He tasted bile again and was sure he would puke.

  She straddled his lap and started to hump him. At first, she did it gently, as if it pained her to do it, but soon she was moving quicker and groaning softly in his ear.

  Bradley called out to the nurses, but they simply ignored what Mary Sue-Ellen did to him, carrying on with their paperwork.

  Mary Sue-Ellen only stopped to use the little pump attached to her penis to inflate it stiff; she then straddled Bradley again and moved her hips hard, groaning loudly.

  Strapped to the chair so tightly that he could only turn his head to the side, he saw Mary Sue-Ellen out the corner of his eye. She licked and kissed his neck hungrily, and he strained to get out of her reach, to no avail.

  Bradley shut his eyes tightly and prayed for it to end, for something to happen to distract her when she stopped abruptly. He was afraid to open his eyes, afraid to see what she planned on doing next, but couldn’t help himself. She lifted off his lap, and he opened his eyes hesitantly. She stood there, staring at him, and when their eyes met, she looked down and, to his horror, so did he.

  Her penis lay on his lap. The stitches that held it together had come undone from the dry humping, and now it was just a limp sausage on his leg. He shifted his legs until it landed with an ugly soft splat on the floor beside his shoe. He looked back at Mary Sue-Ellen, but she stared at her groin where blood was flowing freely. Whoever had sewn on the penis, and Bradley suspected it was Dr Brock, had cut open her vagina to connect blood vessels and have the penis ‘grow’ or ‘attach’ itself to her and heal as part of her body. It was a crude job, something he imagined done in the 1950s.

  Mary Sue-Ellen screamed, holding her skirt up and turning around to show everyone what had happened to her. What made Bradley even more afraid was how it didn’t seem unusual to any of them. The patients continued to play board games or stare out the window, and the nurses continued with their paperwork as though there wasn’t a bleeding midget shrieking at the top of her lungs.

  Cooper and Kevin came in, rushing to her. Kevin scooped up the penis, and Cooper led Mary Sue-Ellen towards the door, trying to reassure her to stop her, screaming.

  “You’re disturbing the other patients,” he chided, rubbing her back as they walked.

  She continued to shriek, and it felt like forever before they were far enough away that Bradley could no longer hear it.

  Bradley puked down the front of his shirt, unable to move to throw up anywhere else. The smell of his own vomit made him want to vomit more, and he coughed, hacking up bile from his stomach onto his shirt and pants. No one paid him any more attention than they had Mary Sue-Ellen, not even the nurses.

  Bradley licked his lips and spat on the floor beside him. He tilted his head to the side and managed to wipe most of his mouth on his shirt. He felt better now that the drugs had completely worn off. He could think clearly again, and that’s when what had actually happened hit him.

  It had not been people he had been forced to fornicate anally with. It had been corpses. They hadn’t moved. They were cold on the inside. He had been forced to rape corpses.

  He retched up more bile; it splattered everywhere, and his stomach heaved. He had nothing to bring up, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. In fact, he could hardly remember how long he had been at the Asylum.

  Had it been a day or two? Three maybe? How was this place even open? He needed food; his stomach was growling, and he felt weak.

  “Nurse,” he called. “Nurse, please! Please, can I have something to eat?” He begged, tears springing to his eyes. “Please, please, anything to eat, even shitty stale bread, please!”

  The one blond nurse looked up at him. “Mr Walker, now calm down. You know we just had lunch. Have you taken your medication?”

  “I didn’t eat anything! They dragged me to the basement and made me fuck dead people!”

  “Language, Mr Walker,” the other nurse said.

  Something about her seemed familiar, but Bradley couldn’t put his finger on it. In fact, the blond nurse also looked familiar. Bradley shook his head; it couldn’t be the same nurses he and Tate had raped and that Tate had killed. It was impossible.

  “Please, I’m starving,” he begged again, but they went back to their paperwork as if they couldn’t hear him.

  Bradley tried to break free of his binds, but they simply cut into his skin, and he started to bleed. Still, the nurses didn’t come and check on him.

  Kevin and Cooper came and went from the day room, fetching various patients to go to the basement, and it worried Bradley how excited some of them got. Were they all being forced to do the same thing?

  He had to get out of here. He needed to devise an escape plan, and he needed to get out now. Even if it meant going to jail. He had to make sure he got to his lawyer and plead guilty to murder and make sure the judge understood he was completely sane when he did it.

  “I’m not crazy,” he muttered. “I don’t belong in the loony bin. I’m not crazy.” He shook his head and swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat.

  He needed to drink something. Perhaps when they took him to his cell, he could convince Cooper or Kevin to get him something to eat and drink. He scratched that idea; the orderlies had it in for him, and he knew it. He needed to distract himself, or he would go crazy.

  Staring at the clock, he counted the seconds that passed.

  Seconds turned to minutes.
>
  Minutes turned to hours.

  ——

  Having dozed off at some point, the next thing he knew, he snored himself awake just as Kevin started to undo the bindings holding him to the chair.

  “Have a good nap, convict?” Cooper asked from where he sat.

  The day room was empty now except for the two orderlies and Bradley. The sun was setting, judging from the view outside the windows. Bradley shivered; it seemed the temperature had dropped several degrees inside.

  Kevin yanked Bradley to his feet and shoved him. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

  Bradley stumbled forward, and Cooper caught his arm. “Don’t even think about trying anything stupid.”

  He nodded to Kevin, who took his other arm and together they led Bradley out of the day room and back towards his cell.

  “Tomorrow Dr Wellbottom decides what to do with you after that nurse fiasco,” Cooper explained as they walked. “I hope they get you good. Maybe throw you in solitary for a couple of days where the rats can keep you company.”

  Kevin guffawed at Cooper's comments, which egged Cooper on.

  “What’s wrong, convict? Midget got your tongue tonight?” he said, pulling Bradley roughly, so he stumbled again.

  “Maybe that’s not all she got,” Kevin joked, guffawing again.

  His laugh irritated Bradley so much. He wished he could just punch the orderly in the face, just once, but they had reached his cell. They shoved him inside and shut the door.

  He quickly went to the toilet where he flushed the water down, cupping his hand to gather as much water as he could before drinking it. He did it a few times until he felt a bit bloated. Swiftly he puked it all up again, feeling absolutely disgusted with himself.

  How he didn’t know, but he needed to escape. Perhaps tomorrow he would get the chance. He crawled over to his bed where he curled up in a ball and cried himself to sleep.