Bran awoke with a jolt at the piercing sound of his alarm clock at precisely 6 am. The morning light streamed through his bedroom window, casting a soft golden glow on his disheveled sheets. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he made his way to the kitchen and prepared a hearty breakfast, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.
After satisfying his hunger, Bran proceeded to his private collection of sedatives and psychiatric medications. He meticulously chose a different combination, a ritual that fueled his sense of control each day. He prepared his signature jelly with deliberate focus, concocting a potent mixture that would inevitably induce a deep slumber upon consumption. And Mimi would be so much under control.
Equipped with a syringe filled with a strong muscle relaxant, Bran descended into the dimly lit basement. The musty scent of dampness permeated the air, mingling with the metallic tang of the needle he grasped tightly in his hand. The basement clock read 7:45 am, its steady ticking echoing in the silence.
Approaching Mimi, Bran's face contorted with a mixture of determination and disdain. She was no longer a woman to him but a mere creature, unworthy of his respect or acknowledgment as Marrok. The power he possessed allowed him to justify his bullying tendencies, a means to an end. In his mind, it was necessary to exert dominance in order to accomplish his goals, and he harbored no reservations about employing his marrok abilities.
Bran's perception of Mimi as a threat to his supremacy fueled his actions. In her presence, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, a nagging awareness that she possessed strength, cunning, and a capacity for rage that rivaled his own. This realization propelled him to take drastic measures to assert his authority and maintain his position as the alpha werewolf, the embodiment of power itself. He enjoyed it as he injected the muscle relaxant on Mimi.
When Mimi slowly awakened after 15 minutes, a heavy haze of the muscle relaxant enveloped her body, draining every ounce of strength and rendering her utterly helpless. The room seemed to spin as she tried to gather her bearings. Bran stood nearby, his eyes fixed on her, patiently awaiting her full consciousness.
As the clock struck eight, Mimi's eyes fluttered open, relief washing over her as she realized she was no longer trapped in the clutches of sleep. She couldn't fathom how waking up in a cage for another session of gelling and sedation could be preferable, but it seemed like a better option than the unknown terrors that plagued her dreams.
Bran approached, opening the cage's lock and deftly opening its lid. With calculated precision, he first paralyzed Mimi's vocal cords, robbing her of her voice. He held no belief in the severity of her nightmares, convinced that Mimi, a formidable being, could handle them. Moreover, he knew that she rarely found solace in sleep, so he deemed it necessary to ensure she received the rest she desperately needed.
And besides, a few nightmares would just strengthen her. It was time for that girl to grow up properly. Bran would show everyone how he had cured Mimi's need for closeness and how she would have no problems with having nightmares, as she would understand that they were just a dream, not a reality.
Over the years, Bran had employed various methods to manage Mimi, and his equipment, including the cage, had become an integral part of his routine. Sometimes Leah, too, had required control, and Bran had resorted to using the same cage. Memories flooded Bran's mind, vivid and haunting. He recalled the consuming rage that had consumed him when Leah had confessed her pregnancy. In a fit of delusion, he had accused her of infidelity and unleashed his fury upon her.
The gruesome image of tearing into Leah's abdomen and devouring her womb, which sheltered five precious embryos, remained etched in Bran's memory. He could still envision Leah's vacant stare, her cold flesh, and the profound anguish that marred her face as he snuffed out her life. And then, the subsequent revelation during Samuel's autopsy, the confirmation that those five embryos were his own flesh and blood. The knowledge that he had consumed his own offspring in a fit of rage was a truth he had buried deep within himself.
Bran noticed Mimi stirring, and he pushed the disturbing recollections back into the recesses of his mind.
He spoke, his voice unnervingly calm, "Good morning. It seems you had quite a restless night filled with vivid dreams. As you may have noticed, I administered a muscle relaxant approximately fifteen minutes ago to prepare for the gel application. This particular version not only relaxes your muscles but also your organs and bowels. I will ensure the gel is filled to its maximum capacity, and just to be thorough, I will also provide you with a stomach gel. Don't worry. Your brace is ready for you. Now, allow me to carry you to the medbay. If you feel a slight chill, don't fret - the absorption of the gel will simply be slower."
Bran roughly lifted me out of the cold, metal cage, carrying me in his powerful arms to the sterile medbay. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood. The support vest awaited me on the gleaming table, its surface cool to the touch. With no care at all, Bran carefully lowered me onto the vest, its touch filling me with dread and anguish. I was fully paralyzed, unable to do anything other than lie on my back, fully helpless.
I watched as Bran, his gloved hands steady and precise, skipped the spiked grips this time. My muscles had betrayed me, rendering them unnecessary. He approached the jelly tank, its translucent container glistening under the bright lights. His fingers traced the underside of my diaphragm, searching for something. A small incision was made, and the wound gently spread apart, revealing the inner workings of my body. He did not know about surgery, which I should have seen. I just hoped that there would not be too many complications.
A thin tube was brought closer, its sterile surface glinting under the harsh light. I felt a sudden, searing pain as the tube pierced my flesh, catching me off guard. With a determined focus, Bran inserted the tube into my now small intestine, pushing it deeper and deeper, meter by meter, until I felt the pressure building in my ass. The tube continued its journey, navigating through my bowels, guided by Bran's not-so-skilled hands.
As he turned me to my side, his fingers probed my asshole, ensuring the tube's proper placement. The hose was then pulled out slightly, preparing for the next step. He was inexperienced, rough, and did not know about anatomy or how to do procedures; there was no sterility at all, and my intestinal bacteria weren't anything that I wanted to get infected with.
Opening the valve, Bran released the gel-like substance into my bowels. Its presence was immediately felt as it flooded and expanded within me. With one hand on my stomach, still feeling for any irregularities and another on the tank valve, he continued to fill my bowels. My bowels became completely full, the gel taking effect as the muscle relaxant weakened and the new sedatives clouded my mind. I sensed that this medication differed from the one administered yesterday, its effects unique and unfamiliar.
Moving on to the next phase, Bran inserted the jelly tip into my abdominal cavity, pushing and maneuvering the jelly inside. The process was not without discomfort, as occasional twinges of pain radiated through various parts of my body. When the pushing finally ceased, I glanced down at my swollen stomach, resembling that of a woman in some stages of pregnancy. Despite the discomfort, the vest was once again secured tightly around me as Bran instructed me to shower while wearing it. I was in pain and very much so, but the combination of drugs and the Marrok force made me obey.
In a daze, I followed his instructions, the sensation of warm water cascading over my body, providing a brief respite from the medical procedures. I washed what I could, my hands moving mechanically through my hair, attempting to restore some semblance of normalcy. Once dressed in my dress, I sank into the sofa as Bran instructed me. The sedatives rendered me completely immobilized, not able to think of the act, feeling utterly helpless and vulnerable—a state I despised above all else.
Bran would go eat several times a day, the tantalizing scent of food wafting through the air, but my hunger was nonexistent. The gel he administered left my mind numbed and void of any thoughts. After his meals, he would return with a glass of tepid water to prevent dehydration.
However, I knew that water only dehydrated me further, so I tried to limit my intake. Each time, I would make my way to the bathroom to relieve myself. He made me drink several glasses a day, knowing as well that it actually dehydrated me. Soon, I got quite a nasty headache and photophobia as dehydration got worse.
Occasionally, Bran would desire to fucking me roughly, but without the gel or the crawler, it became more painful. He wanted to fuck me in my ass, usually when he was angered by a phone call or something else. My asshole became tender and raw, causing discomfort even when sitting. Blood would stain the toilet bowl after each visit to the bathroom.
I could hear his satisfied grunts as he pulled out of my asshole and wiped my blood from his dick. He called me creature, bitch, freak, fucktoy, and he even threatened to have an Alpha party soon. But he could sense that I had protection so I would not end up pregnant, and that was something that angered him further.
At six o'clock, I would be locked back in the cage, plagued by the same horrifying nightmares as always. The gel rendered me helpless, and the medication only accumulated with each passing day. It was a monotonous routine. On the third day, he installed a port to administer gel directly to my bowels, activating my multiplying enzymes after bruising my organs.
However, he had used an excessive amount of enzyme blockers, inhibiting my healing abilities. It was supposed to be just a tablespoon in a liter of water, and that was more than enough to get my enzyme under control, but he used an entire bag of powder. He had to open me up and scoop everything out, and that was very painful. He gave me several injections of muscle relaxant throughout the whole time as he emptied all the extra organs out of me. I was severely incapacitated, now not even able to drink myself, as drugs kicked in. Bran made me swallow some pills, too, making my drugged state even worse.
By the fifth day, he carried me to be gelled once again, and although my vocal cords were not paralyzed, the drugs from the gel lingered, intensifying my medicated state. After gelling, he carried to his study and interrogated.
Bran asked me about contacts, but I could only stare at him, unable to comprehend or respond. His agitation grew. I couldn't understand how to speak of what Bran was talking about; I could feel saliva dripping out of my mouth, as my mouth was agape. Bran got upset about my drugged state even more.
We found ourselves in his study when his phone rang once more, someone insisting on his presence elsewhere. Bran agreed, and I was granted the privilege of wearing underpants since he had not engaged in sex for a few days. He even allowed me to wear my shoes as we made our way to the car. My pussy was good enough to fuck, and my asshole hadn't really recovered, as my healing was nonexistent. He was upset about that, too.
Bran put some shows on my feet and walked me out to his car. Completely drugged and devoid of any control, Bran placed me in the back seat, and the journey began. The car eventually halted in front of a building, and without a word, Bran exited the vehicle and disappeared inside. Moments later, the back door opened, and I was forcefully lifted out of the car by a group of men, then dragged into a van where I was trussed to a stretcher. Mr. Sark seemed pleased with the proceedings.