You wake up suddenly, unaware that you had been unconscious. There’s no blissful moment of ignorance, just a sudden snap into hyperperception - the thick bands holding your wrists by your sides, your ankles still, your forehead firmly against the bed. There’s a nip in your arm where they sited the IV, and a burning from the catheter in your urethra. Your eyes are still taped closed.

There’s someone in the room with you, not troubling to hide their presence. Their shoes squeak on what must be a vinyl floor as they step around you. Something goes tight on your arm - the blood pressure cuff, you suppose. You can feel the pulse in your arm in time with the thumping of your heart in your chest, in time with the rushing sound in your ears.

Another set of squeaking footsteps.

‘He’s awake,’ the same female voice from… from whenever he was awake before. A sudden thick wave of disorientation hits. You have literally no idea how long you have been unconscious for. They could have done anything to you. There’s no way of knowing that your sleep was natural. It couldn’t have been natural. The sound of that voice makes your pulse race even more, makes you feel lightheaded.

‘We switched off the propofol about 10 minutes ago,’ another voice says, deep and masculine. The person behind your head.

‘Good,’ she continues, ‘Bring him through when you're finished with the vitals.’

You hear her walk out of the room. The person left with you takes more steps around you, doesn’t touch you, doesn’t speak to you. You begin to feel just a little less than human.

Without warning, your bed moves. There’s no creaking or squealing of wheels or joints, just a smooth push feet first, a corner and different air - a corridor? - and another corner and different air again, the sensation of much more space and more people.

You’re wheeled into what must be the centre of the room. You can feel hot light on your skin and realise with shame that you must still be naked. There must be three - four - five? People around you, not touching you, not speaking to you.

‘I trust you feel well rested,’ the doctor’s voice again, beside your shoulder. Her hands are on your face, working at the edge of the tape over your eyes. ‘You’ll want to keep your eyes closed as I remove this tape. The surgical lights are very bright.’

You do as she says. Even with your eyes scrunched up the lights above you are nearly blinding when the tape comes fully off. Tears leak from the corner of your eyes, So nearly blinding is the light that you barely notice your legs lifting apart, your knees bending, hands affixing something tight around the shaft of your penis. By the time you can spare a thought beyond the pain of the light, something cold and metallic is being slipped into your anus, deeper and deeper. You grunt, clench your fists as best you’re able to.

‘Good boy,’ the doctor says, a gloved hand still on your forehead. ‘It’s all much easier if you just let it happen.

Then her fingers are forcing open your right eye. You can’t move your head even a little, but you try - the light hurts. Her fingers are so strong that you can’t resist at all. She’s bringing her other hand so close to your face you can’t see anything else in the room around you. Her finger applies a contact lense to your eye, and you blink and gasp at the unaccustomed sensation, barely reacting as she does the exact same to your other eye. And before you can recover, there’s more tape over your eyes and the blinding pain from the lights is subsiding.

You become more aware of your legs being wide apart, the heavy, fullness in your rectum. The tight band around your penis.

There are hands in your hair, some stickers being placed on your forehead.

‘The lenses I just placed in your eyes will allow you to see what we want you to see, whether you permit it or not,’ the doctor says. ‘We will be monitoring your responses to what we show you for the next few hours, to better understand what you are stimulated by before we proceed.

Hands insert hard plastic tubes into your nostrils. A dry chemical sensation fills your nose.

‘You may very well orgasm during the next few hours,’ the doctor continues, ‘it would not be unexpected.’

A weird, woozy feeling is creeping over you. ‘We are administering a drug which will reduce your inhibitions.’ The doctor sounds very far away.

With no warning, your vision is filled with light. Not painful like the surgical lights above you, but startling.

Images flash. Cat. Dog. House. Car. Mountains. Each image lasts for… honestly you don’t even know how long.

Benign images give way to naked women. Naked men. Snippets of every sort of pornographic anyone had ever imagined. You get erect, you can’t help it. Your breathing quickens and your heart races. You try to squirm, can’t. You’re so aroused that you have no control over your muscles, the sounds coming out of your mouth. You’re desperate for release, to go over the edge. But nothing you see quite…

The images unexpectedly cut out.

‘Very good,’ the doctor says from behind you. ‘You’ve shown some very interesting reactions over the past few hours. We have a lot to work with.’

You’re breathing hard, sweating. You’re painfully erect, aching for release.’

‘I can see how erect you are,’ the doctor says, ‘I’m afraid there’s no way now to relieve that. But you’ll give us some excellent data, thank you.’

Your breathing settles and your skin cools, and after what could have been hours your penis is soft again. People step around you, but don’t touch you, or speak to you. At some point you feel something cold in your stomach, a fullness, and realise that they must be feeding you through the tube that they forced into your throat.

You like there for… well. Time has no meaning for you anymore.

‘As I said earlier,’ the doctor says, surprising you. You had fallen into some far away place, somewhere that you weren’t restrained on a hospital bed under surgical lights, ‘you gave us very interesting results earlier. You showed marked responses to images of restraint and bondage, and non-consensual activities. Interesting, especially considering the situation you’ve found yourself in. We certainly had no idea of your… predilections before we acquired you. We’re going to do some interesting things with you. I’m very much looking forward to it.’