Damon went upstairs in a huff. Oh fuck, that Mimi would always pull. He felt his rage boiling inside him. He walked to Bran's office door and knocked.
"Come in," Bran said, his voice echoing softly in the spacious room as Damon entered. The room was dimly lit, with a faint scent of old books hanging in the air. Bran stood near the window, his figure casting a shadow on the floor. Adam and Samuel were also present, their faces reflecting a mixture of concern and determination.
Damon settled himself into a plush chair, its velvet upholstery providing a comforting touch. He could hear the soft creaking of the leather as he shifted his weight.
Bran spoke, his voice laced with contemplation, "Mimi is not leaving the house for a while. I think the cage is the only solution, the deprivation of liberty."
His words hung heavy in the room, mingling with the faint rustling of papers in the background.
Adam, his brow furrowed, interjected, "Yeah, well, it's not just the cage that's bothering Mimi. We've already seen that. She'll just sail out of there like an ice queen."
Bran's eyes narrowed in thought, his gaze fixated on a distant point. "What do you suggest, then?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Knowing Mimi all too well, Damon let out a cold, hissing laugh. The sound reverberated, sending a chill down everyone's spine. "Do what Mimi hates," he said, his voice dripping with malice.
Bran's confusion was obvious as he questioned, "What do you mean?"
Damon's smile turned cruel, his eyes gleaming with a sinister glint. "Not a deprivation of liberty, but a deprivation of consciousness. A permanent sedation," he stated, his words cutting through the silence. "What Mimi hates more than anything she can't stand is being sedated. 2-4 weeks of sedation should put some sense into her head."
Lost in his thoughts, Samuel finally spoke up, breaking the tension. "Hmm, well then, I should probably give an injection every 4 hours and still..."
Damon abruptly stood up, a sense of purpose emanating from him. "Follow me, and I'll show you," he declared, his voice commanding.
Damon led the group out of the room, their footsteps echoing softly in the corridor. The anticipation hung in the air, mingling with the scent of disinfectant. Damien couldn't help but feel a twisted satisfaction, knowing that no one would suspect a thing when "Damon" showcased his invention. The best part was that Damon would keep some memory of this plan, fueled by his burning rage.
At this moment, his sinister intentions consumed Damien's thoughts, leaving no room for hesitation. He guided the men down the sterile white corridors, the sharp scent of disinfectant lingering in the air. With a twist of the doorknob, he unveiled a small cupboard, its door creaking open. Inside, rows of oxygen and gas containers stood, their metal surfaces gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Samuel wrinkled his nose at the sight of the gas containers. "Gas? Really?" he exclaimed, disbelief clear in his voice.
Damon, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, reached for a hose attached to the tank and pressed it against Samuel's palm. With a turn of the valve, a gel-like substance flowed through the hose, cool and slippery against Samuel's skin.
"This is the newest medicine, jelly," Damon explained, his voice filled with excitement. "We mix sedatives into this and fill Mimi with it. It can be injected under the skin, into the abdominal cavity, or even ingested. The heat of the body allows for quick absorption in the abdomen and slower absorption under the skin, ensuring a continuous presence in the bloodstream."
Samuel whispered, his voice barely audible, "That's good. You could even add nutrients to it."
Bran chimed in with a question, "What's the point of Mimi sleeping for weeks?"
Damon shook his head, his eyes gleaming with determination. "No sleep for Mimi. She'll be moving, eating. She'll be controlled but fully aware of that jelly in her body, aware of what it does. Imagine, Bran, if you despised mustard or its smell, and someone forced you to experience it in abundance. But that's not all. Let's bring Mimi in, and I'll show you how it works. I promise it will work. I have the perfect blend in my tank, prepared for any injuries she may sustain. If this works, she will need to wear a cannula less. She can be simply filled up with this jelly while she recovers. But now, let's see how well it truly works."
The men observed intently as Damon unveiled several tanks, their metal surfaces reflecting the fluorescent lights. With a twist of the valve, a thick orange jelly oozed out, its potent medicinal scent filling the room. Samuel, Adam, and even Bran could perceive the powerful cocktail of medicine within it.
Damon, smelling slightly like a wet dog from his earlier encounter with Mimi, radiated frustration. Adam understood his anger, sharing the same determination to make Mimi understand. Mimi was too valuable to them all.
The creaking sound of the basement door opening sent shivers down my spine, and as I strained my ears, voices echoed through the darkness. Excitement surged within me, knowing that judgment was finally upon me. Damon emerged into the room, his presence commanding as he opened the cage door, gesturing for me to step out. I complied and left the confining space behind. Bran, Adam, and Samuel glanced through the doorway, already turning their backs and heading upstairs.
Wasting no time, Damon seized my arms, forcing them behind my back and trussing them with zip ties. His grip was firm, unyielding. With determination in his eyes, he guided me up the stairs, his steps purposeful. We arrived at the medbay, where a hospital bed awaited, adorned with spiked handcuffs.
My heart raced as I instinctively hesitated, refusing to be bound to the bed. Adam approached from the other side, joining forces with Damon as they forcefully dragged me towards the edge of the bed. With a swift motion, Damon cut the zip tie, and together, he and Adam pushed me down onto the bed, swiftly restraining my arms and legs.
Deciding it was best to remain silent, I held my tongue as Damon spoke, his voice devoid of warmth. "Now, baby, you will undergo a medical procedure that will be repeated periodically until your sentence of 2-4 weeks is complete. The duration is yet to be determined; we shall see how this new punishment unfolds."
Bran's disappointed voice resonated from around the corner, chastising me for my lack of common sense and warning me of the consequences. Adam simply nodded in agreement.
Damon retrieved a container and placed it at the foot of the bed, followed by a stool on which he sat. From the container emerged a hose, resembling a giant needle with a slightly flattened point, creating a flat opening. With a scalpel in hand, Damon made an incision below my knee, exposing the wound on my tibia.
Methodically, he inserted the tip of the hose-like device under my skin, its movements reminiscent of a liposuction procedure, progressively delving deeper until it reached my ankle. As he pressed the pedal on the floor, I felt peculiar as the liquid within the hose started draining beneath my skin.
Damon meticulously spread the substance around my leg, causing my skin to tighten and glisten. Slowly, he continued the process, filling the entire front of my shin. With a last flourish, he lifted his foot from the pedal, removed the probe from the hole, and allowed the wound to heal.
With the aid of the stool, he ascended. An incision was made between my thigh and side, and the probe was once again forced up towards my knee, stuffing the substance in. Damon's hand, determined, pressed some jelly or gel beneath the skin of my thigh. My leg grew heavier, a weight I could feel.
He proceeded to my other leg, repeating the process—fatigue set in, longing for sleep. The heaviness engulfed everything.
Damon noticed, a smile creeping across his face. "Ah, it seems you're already feeling it. Excellent. Well, baby, I can now reveal the full truth: your sentence is 2-4 weeks of sedation. This jelly that now coats both your feet is a potent sedative, and it will keep you in a state of permanent sedation."
Panic surged within me. Sedated? Damon, that cunning manipulator, knew all too well the torment of sedation for me. Oh, what a clever bastard. He could strike where it hurt the most, with unyielding force. But I maintained my composure, an ice queen in the face of adversity. Go on, do your worst. But here's the surprise: I won't be sticking around once this ordeal is over.
Damon released my legs from their shackles as he spoke, applying the jelly from behind. Once my legs were coated, Damon raised the bed, bringing me to a sitting position. He then placed a support collar around my neck, preventing any movement of my head. Taking a hose, as thick as a slurry straw, he retrieved it from a reel, wetting the tip with the cursed jelly before forcefully inserting it into my nostril.
It pushed mercilessly through my nasal passage, down into my esophagus, and further still into my stomach, finally reaching my small intestine. Damon continued to unravel the hose from the coil, pushing it deeper and deeper into my digestive system. The pain was unbearable. The tube felt thick and rigid in my small intestine before gradually warming and softening. I fought against it, struggling, but Adam arrived to secure me to the bed, allowing Damon to push the hose nearly to the end of my colon.
My digestive system is quite shorter than a human's. Damon says it's more like a cat's digestive system because I'm such a full-blown carnivore. My small intestine is maybe a quarter of what a human has; similarly, my large intestine is about half that of a human. Damon says it's an adaptation to the fact that I only need meat, and I don't even grow other kinds of intestines anymore. If I get someone else's longer intestine, it shrinks. Damon doesn't know exactly how I actually do it. At one point, he would have liked to have looked into it, but then, when things happen and things happen, those plans fall by the wayside.
Then he meticulously cut the hose, its sharp edges glinting in the room's dim light. He connected the severed end to the now blue tank with precision, the sound of metal clinking against metal filling the air. As he pressed the pedal, a faint hiss escaped the holes in the hose, like tiny whispers of air escaping.
I could feel the jelly, thick and sticky, seeping out of the holes and seeping into my insides. Each droplet that entered me caused a sharp pang of pain as if my bowels were being mercilessly twisted and squeezed. Damon, devoid of any compassion, forced the entire tank inside me, leaving the hose in place as a constant reminder of my dependence.
"This Baby," he sneered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure, "is nutrient sedative jelly. It will be your sole sustenance throughout your punishment. You can only receive it through that hose."
The jelly in my legs had already taken effect, rendering me defenseless and vulnerable.
Damon continued his torment, injecting the jelly into my arms. The weight of them became unbearable, dragging my limbs down as if they were made of lead. Thoughts became muddled, my vision blurred, and a suffocating sense of helplessness enveloped my mind. I felt Bran securing every bond between us, including the powerful connection I shared with Adam. It only intensified my overwhelming feeling of powerlessness.
Next, he positioned me on my back, exposing my vulnerable stomach. With precision, he made an incision just below my diaphragm, the sharp sting of the blade digging deep into my flesh. Without hesitation, he inserted a probing device, pushing it into the depths of my abdomen as he injected the jelly. My already distended stomach protested, the pressure building within me.
He filled me with a staggering 15 liters of the viscous substance, his words dripping with cold satisfaction, "That'll absorb faster, baby. The warmer the place, the quicker the medicine will be absorbed."
The pungent odor of wet dog permeated the room, a clear indicator of Damon's seething anger. Without mercy, he coated my body, spreading the gel-like substance beneath my skin, leaving no inch untouched. By this point, I was completely sedated. My senses dulled to a mere whisper of their former selves. I complied with his every command, my body aching, sick, and trapped in a state of helpless submission.
My rage, my desire to lash out, was stifled. Mimosa lay unconscious, Mirella's resting place sealed shut. A fleeting thought crossed my mind, a warning that keeping Mimosa in a perpetual state of stun was a grave mistake, but the thought was fleeting, drowned out by the haze of my incapacitation.
Damon stood me upright, instructing Bran or Samuel to keep me in motion. "Walk her, so she doesn't remain still," he ordered, his voice laced with a twisted sense of authority. "I'll return in two days to replenish the jelly and attend to her feeding. That should suffice until then. Call me if anything arises."
With those chilling words, he turned and walked away, his voice already filled with anticipation as he spoke to someone named Lizzie, promising a debauched and hedonistic night ahead. The stench of wet dog lingered, mingling with the excruciating pain that surged through my body. My vision remained blurred, comprehension eluding me amid this torment.
Adam was home one day. For some reason, he didn't touch me but then went to the gigs when Bran recommended. Samuel was doing medbay. He paid little attention to me, but Bran. Bran was with me. He could clearly see how helpless, confused and totally defenceless I was and how I was stuffed full of jelly. My situation was not good, and it would only worsen.