WOMy ultimate fantasy is to be forced.
To be kidnapped off the street or from my home; restrained, gagged and blindfolded on a gurney for a journey in the back of a van that seems like it takes hours. I fight against the nylon ankle straps, the wrist straps, the bands across my thighs and tummy but my screaming and struggling eventually subsides when it becomes clear that it isn't going to do anything, they're too strong and too expertly applied.
I'm exhausted and meek when the journey eventually ends and I'm lifted out of the back of the van. The air is cool and dry, and there are voices murmuring over me as the gurney is wheeled over something smooth - tiles, or linoleum. I lift my head a little to better hear what is being said, but I can't make it out. Through the blindfold I can almost see bright lights overhead.
The room the gurney stops in is bright even through the fabric over my eyes. There are more voices here and there is an aseptic bite to the air when I breathe it in. I want to struggle, but I feel like it would do nothing, that I should save my strength. My heart feels like it thumping through my ribs..
It beats even harder when latex-gloved hands close around my ankles and wrists, press down on my shoulders. The restraints are removed and the hands lift me off the gurney; I make a feeble attempt to kick out but the hands are too strong and in seconds I'm being held down on buttery leather.
My legs are held hip-width apart and leather cuffed across my ankles and in a wide band over each thigh, my arms brought out perpendicular to my body and strapped down palm up. Over my forehead the hands put what feels like thick adhesive tape.
Then there's too many hands: someone is cutting off my dress, my knickers my bra; someone takes my blindfold off leaving me blinded my the white light. I try to scream as the gag is taken from my dry mouth, but plastic is forced in instead - something that curls down the back of my tongue, something that is affixed to the leather at the side of my head, something that makes me gag. A thin tube suctioning air is slipped down whatever they have in my mouth. I can feel it drying out the back of my throat, seeking the vomit that doesn't come up. Biting down on it does nothing.
I feel a sharp sting in my right elbow. My eyesight is adjusting and through my watering eyes I can just see a woman in green scrubs putting a cannula in, affixing a bag of fluid to it.
Someone is putting electrodes on my chest, hooking me up to a monitor beeping beside my head. A plastic clip on a finger. A blood pressure cuff around my other arm that immediately goes tight..
A man is standing over me with the suction tube he is pulling from my throat. He places it beside my head and turns away.
I'm making terrible gasping noises against the plastic in my throat. Now I can see my gaze flits desperately around the room.
It is tiled in brilliant white, with blinding surgical lights above me. There are at least a dozen people in scrubs busy around the room, some around me, some arranging equipment I can't identify on gleaming metal trolleys.
The thing they have me restrained on is black leather, almost like a dentist's chair. My legs are restrained on separate limbs of it. I don't want to think about why...
and can't, because the man who suctioned m throat has turned back to me with another thin tube held between his thumb and forefinger. He puts his other hand on my forehead, like he want to ensure that I can't move my head even a little.
He begins to push the thin tube into my right nostril, and push and push and push. I gag again as it hits the back of my throat and he stops. He holds the thin tube in my nose with the hand on my forehead and retrieves the suction tube from beside my head and slips it in through the tube in my mouth. Nothing comes up and he advances the tube in my nose further and further. I can feel it as it slides down, alien.
At some point he is happy and stops, sticks it to my face with some plaster.
Some other man in scrubs is leaning over me, listening to my heart with a stethoscope, cold on my skin. listening to my lungs. Satisfied, he puts the stethoscope around his neck, then feels over my abdomen, fingers digging in cruelly. Then he moves up to my breasts, rolling each under his hand in little circles. I try to make him look at me, meet my eyes, acknowledge that I am a human being, but his gaze is totally focused on his job.
As he turns away the thing that I had been dreading thinking about happens. I hear a quiet motor whirring, feel my legs moved apart, my knees bending. A woman in scrubs is wheeling one of the silver trolleys over to someone sitting on a stool at my feet, scooting in as my knees grow wider apart. She can see everything, everything most private to me, and there is a small part of me that hysterically thinks how glad I am that I had a wax yesterday.
Hands in latex gloves on my inner thighs, palpating around my vulva, stroking down my lips and over my clitoris. I can't help but shudder at the electric shock that shoots up my spine at that. She takes one of her hands away and then suddenly there is cold plastic, burning, pushing into me, pushing further and further until with a final push I can feel my bladder release. I can feel some awful tugging as the tube is pulled this way and that before it finally comes to a rest.
But there is barely a reprieve, metal pushing at me, pushing inside me, pushing inside the clenching muscles. I cry out in agony and am completely ignored.
I can feel cool air inside me, cold hard instruments scraping my cervix. It feels like it goes on for hours. Lightheadedness washes over me. Behind my head someone murmurs 'bradycardic' and the scraping stops. The woman between my legs says 'we got enough of a sample anyway,' and the speculum is removed from inside me.
There isn't much a chance for me to breathe. The lightheadedness is just washing away and the voice behind my head murmurs 'okay,' and the woman between my legs is pushing her fingers into me, pushing down on my tummy. Lightheadedness comes and goes in waves, with murmurs from behind my head stopping the hands each time, and allowing them to start again. The hands press and pinch for what seems like forever. Palpitations and darkness in the edges of my vision barely fade and when the hands are gone I don't realize it immediately.
No one touches me for moments, or minutes. It might be an hour. I can't tell. Stuff is happening off to the side but...
Someone leans over me. Her eyes are cool, blue, appraising.
'Hello, Katy. You've been chosen as our newest subject, and I'm happy to say that you did very well in your initial assessment. We're going to allow you to rest now before we get started with everything else.
'WOW WOW I soooooo Want to be done to me also!!!!But I would eventually after many many more procedure be returned to COMPLETE INFANTCY state!!!!!!