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Emily gets the full treatment.

Emily awoke in her bed, her wrists and ankles loosely restrained. She could barely keep her eyes open. The remnants of the sedative swirled in her mind like fog, but she could feel the restraints on her limbs. Her brain was foggy. She was not sure which parts of her fragmented memories were real which were her “delirium”.

Did she really see Sarah again? How many “procedures” did they do on her, if any at all, she couldn’t remember. All was a blur.

Her stomach churned as she recalled Sarah's warning. They were doing something. The nurse had said it was "routine”. She recalled that many “procedures” she had assisted before, like egg extractions and embryo implantations were “routine”, too. Was she implanted?

Emily became more aware from the sudden adrenaline rush and noticed something felt... wrong… A deep, gnawing discomfort sat in her abdomen. Her body heavy in ways she couldn’t explain. She shifted slightly in the hospital bed, wincing at the ache that radiated through her core.

How long had it been since her “ruptured cyst”? How long had she been here?

The heart monitor beside her started to beep faster as her head started to clear and the fear inside her chest grew. Her hand trembled as she touched her stomach, and she froze.

There was a fullness there—a rounded heaviness pressing against her palm. Emily’s breath caught in her throat. No. No, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Panic surged through her, and she tried to push herself upright with a strangled gasp. The movement sent a sharp pain through her abdomen, and the beeping of monitor started to become frantic.

Almost instantly, the door swung open. A nurse hurried in, her face composed but eyes wary. "Emily, you're awake," she said, far too calm.

Emily yanked the blanket down and stared in horror at the unmistakable swell of her belly beneath the thin hospital gown. She pulled up her gown to reveal her pregnant tummy, with disbelief, her trembling hands pressed against the firm, taut skin.

"What... what is this? What did you do to me!?"

The nurse hesitated, her lips pursing. "Emily, you need to stay calm—"

"Calm?" Emily's voice cracked, hysteria creeping in.

"Who did this to me?!" She struggled against the restraints, tugging at them, trying to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but her limbs were weak, uncoordinated, and restrained.

"Emily," the nurse warned, stepping closer. "You need to rest."

"I'm leaving," she snapped, trying to get off the bed, but the restraints held her in place. She sagged back into the bed, gasping.

The nurse gave up trying to console her and returned with a syringe. Before Emily could react, she felt a sharp sting in her arm. Her eyes snapped to the IV line, realizing too late the nurse had injected something into it.

“No, no, please…” Emily’s vision blurred, her body sinking heavily into the bed as if it were swallowing her whole. “You can’t… do this…I need to get out…”

Her eyelids fluttered closed against her will, and darkness claimed her again.

The next few days remained a blur. She tried to clear her brain, to think. At first, she begged. Then, she screamed. But no one listened. The doctors, the nurses, they only murmured soothing words, pressing her back down, whispering that she needed to rest, to stop struggling.

She resisted the injections but the more she resisted, the more they sedated her. It became a groggy haze, fleeting awareness, and then the sharp prick of a needle. Every time she tried to fight, they subdued her.

Then after one particular incident when she refused food, spilled the tray and managed to kick a nurse in the face, they decided that it was time for the “SOP”.

“What SOP!? Let me go!” She continued to struggle and scream. Her frustration mounting.

“Surrogate Override Protocol,” said one of the nurses with a hint of cold satisfaction.

“I am not a surrogate!” She screamed with all the energy she had. The nurses ignored and she sensed something was afoot. The nurse returned with a loaded syringe. Her eyes cold and determined, ready to dispense punishment. Another nurse started removing all the electrodes and cables connected to her.

Two orderlies came in with a gurney. Emily struggled for her dear life. At the signal of the nurse with the syringe, they all held her down onto the bed, immobilizing her. Then the nurse injected the content in the syringe into her IV port. Emily felt the strength drained from her limbs. They felt unnaturally heavy. Her struggles slowed to a stop. Then her vision started to blur. The room became so bright she could barely open her eyes.

She was transferred to the gurney and the party left for its unknown destination. The overhead lights of the corridors flashed by. She wanted them to stop, but she was totally helpless.

They reached what looked like a pre-op preparation room. The gynecologist chair with its gleaming stirrups stood ominously in the middle. The nurses positioned her in the stirrups, leaving her legs splayed wide. Then she saw a nurse with an apron rolling a trolley of sterile bags of transparent tubes — the catheters. She tried to struggle but she barely moved.

“Shhh… “ The nurse that got kicked came up to her. Her cold gloved hands rested on her forehead, pressing her down. “You will be fine, we will take good care of you from now on. No more dramas.” She said, with a hint of satisfaction.

Emily panicked but the drug kept her docile. The cold, foreign tubes, which she recognised as catheters, threatened to render her even more helpless.

The nurse in charge, her face neutral and almost detached, leaned over Emily’s legs, her gloved hands moving with practiced precision. "We’re starting now, Emily," she said firmly, her voice had no warmth, no comfort. "Just try to relax."

Before Emily could protest, she felt the coldness in her groin area as the nurse coated it generously with chlorhexidine. Then she felt gloved fingers spreading her labia and the cool lubricated tip of the urinary catheter. With careful pressure, she guided the tip into Emily’s urethra.

Emily gasped, her body rebelling against the intrusion. The feeling was unnatural—cold, sterile, and deeply invasive. The catheter slid deeper, and Emily’s body instinctively tried to contract.

Emily’s breath came in shallow bursts. The pressure of the catheter inside her was already uncomfortable, but it wasn’t until she felt the next step that her panic truly began to spike. The nurse who was inserting the catheter adjusted the syringe in her hand and then slowly began to inject fluid into the small balloon at the tip of the catheter. It was a strange, foreign feeling—a fullness deep inside her. The pressure was not yet painful, but it was intense, and it seemed to fill her up in a way that made her feel even more helpless. She felt invaded, intruded.

The balloon inflated steadily, and Emily could feel it stretching, pushing against the inner walls of her urethra, keeping the catheter securely in place.

"There," the nurse said, almost matter-of-factly, once the balloon was fully inflated. "Now we can move on to the next one."

Emily’s mind reeled, her thoughts a jumble of confusion, panic, and helplessness. She had no time to process the first intrusion before the nurses moved on to the next step.

One of the nurses at Emily’s side shifted her position, guiding her hips lower while lifting her knees higher. Emily could feel the buttocks rising. She felt the cold swabbing of the chlorhexidine around her anus this time. Then the cool, lubricated tip of a gloved finger touched her anus and penetrated. Her body stiffened in response. The idea of another catheter, a more invasive one, made her stomach twist.

The nurse at her side spoke again, but her tone had changed—it was softer, almost patronizing, like she was speaking to a child. "Emily, you’re doing great. Just relax for me," she cooed. "It’ll be over soon."

Before Emily could respond, she felt the tip of the rectal catheter gently pressing inside her. It was more intrusive, bigger and deeper than the first. Emily flinched, her body refusing to relax, but the nurses held her firmly in place. The nurse inserting the catheter didn’t stop.

Emily gasped, her eyes wide with discomfort. She wanted to push it out, to move, to escape, but she couldn’t. The nurses held her down, their hands firm on her body, ensuring she stayed still. She could feel the catheter pressing deeper, and the sense of violation that came with it made her stomach churn.

Once the catheter was positioned, the nurse turned her attention to the balloon at the base of it. "We need to inflate this one as well," the nurse said, and Emily could hear the faintest hint of satisfaction in her voice.

Emily felt the pressure building once again as the balloon slowly inflated inside her. It wasn’t just the physical discomfort—it was the sheer helplessness of being unable to stop it, of being trapped in a body while the nurses violated her. The balloon expanded, pressing against her walls, the pressure building inside her, a constant reminder that the catheter was there to stay.

Emily wanted to scream, to beg them to stop, but her throat felt dry, the words stuck inside her. Her body was still, legs locked in the stirrups with the tubes extending visibly from her orifices. The nurse stepped back, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

"There," she said, her tone flat as she tugged at both catheters. “Nice and secure.”

The other nurses began to move away, and Emily could feel their eyes on her, but no one spoke. The nurse who had been holding her shoulders in place gave her a final, almost condescending smile before stepping back.

Then they started to focus on her head. Nurses started to stand closer to her face with a trolley in tow. There were more tubes on it. A nurse lifted Emily’s head and held it against her bossoms, holding it in place. “Just relax. It will be over soon,” said the nurse. Then Emily heard another nurse’s voice, a calming murmur of reassurance as she explained each step of the process.

“I’m going to start by cleaning the inside of your nose, Emily. It will feel cool, but it shouldn’t hurt.”

Emily felt a chill on her skin as the nurse gently swabbed around her nostrils. The sensation was oddly invasive. She tried to turn her head away but the nurse holding her head tightened her grip. Emily couldn’t shake the sense that something worse than the catheters was about to happen.As the nurse prepped the tube, Emily’s breath caught in her throat. They’re going to put something down my nose. The thought made her stomach turn.

The nurse held up the thin, flexible tube, its length long and intimidating. Emily’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as the cold tip of the feeding tube brushed against the inside of her nostril. It was a sensation she had tried to ignore, but the moment it made contact, a wave of panic surged through her chest.

**No, no, no, I can’t do this.** Her mind screamed it, but only slurred sounds came from her throat.

She tried to pull away, her body instinctively recoiling. The tube felt cold, and her throat clenched at the thought of it sliding down. “Emily, you need to stay still,” the nurse’s voice was firm, but calm, her hands cupping Emily’s cheeks, holding her steady.

But Emily couldn't control the panic that gripped her. Her chest felt tight, her stomach twisting in revolt. She twisted her body, attempting to escape the nurse’s hands. The more she struggled, more hands started to grip her, pressing her down, immobilizing her. It felt like the world was closing in, the small room growing suffocating with every second the tube remained poised at the back of her throat.

**I can’t breathe,** she thought, as her vision began to blur with tears. She gasped for air, her pulse racing in her throat.

Emily struggled against the hands holding her, her strength returning.“Please,” she gasped. “Please don’t—don’t put it in.”

But the nurses’ hands felt like an unmovable weight. She couldn’t escape. They were holding her down, forcing her body to stay still, her head locked in place.

Tears streamed down her face as she felt the tube inching deeper into her nostril. It felt as if something were blocking her throat, her airway constricting around it. She choked, but the nurse holding her head steadied her, her grip like a vise.

Emily could feel the tube move slowly down, the sensation of it traveling deeper, past her throat, and into her stomach.

A moment of silence followed, the pressure suddenly easing as the tube finally settled into place. Emily lay there, breathless and trembling, tears staining her cheeks and the nurse's scrub.The nurses slowly released their grip, stepping back slightly. The one she kicked watched her with a sadistic satisfaction.

Emily’s chest heaved as she fought to calm her breathing. The nurse checked for correct placement, aspirating stomach contents to confirm. It was only when they secured the tube with tape that Emily, still hazy, realized she had been defeated.

She saw from the corner of her eyes a nurse injected something into the IV port. The drug flowed up her vein quickly, the cold spreading. Her world started to spin again.

“Sleep now, Emily. We will take good care of you. We will wake you up when the baby is at full term.”

Emily tried to comprehend what it meant but she was unable to focus. The nurses unbound her from the table and transferred her with all the tubes hanging from her orifices onto the waiting gurney. There was no more fight left in Emily.

The first thing I notice is the sterile scent of antiseptic. My head throbs as consciousness seeps back in, a dull ache pulsing behind my temples. My body feels heavy, limbs sluggish.

Cold metal cuffs bite into my wrists and ankles, securing me to a padded examination table. My breath hitches as I realize my nudity and panic claws up my throat. I jerk against the restraints, but they don’t budge. My pulse hammers beneath my skin, a frantic rhythm that only grows louder when I hear the quiet hum of machinery and the methodical click of footsteps approaching.

-> Source <-

I arrived at the Center for Interventive Health in the early afternoon. I had been referred to the medical practice by a previous doctor, who, while seeming frustrated by my tendency not to follow doctor's orders, had insisted I see a specialist to follow up on some lab tests. I was pretty nervous; medical appointments of any kind were, well, not my favorite activity, and I tended to avoid them as much as I could.

Locking my car, I collected my coat and walked to the entrance. A sign near the large, single story building directed patients towards a small frosted-glass door in the center of the structure, so I followed the path towards it. I opened the door and found myself in a small waiting room.

The small room was quiet; a few hard chairs sat in rows near the walls, with little tables with the usual magazines in rows. Across from the doors, a frosted glass partition separated a receptionist and a large white desk from the otherwise deserted room.

I walked over to the glass as the young receptionist looked up, smiling. I found my thinking she had a nice smile; her brown hair and blue eyes contrasted with a bright white blouse, and her small helped put me a little at ease.

John Turner?" the receptionist asked, with a light accent I couldn't quite place.

"That's me," I replied, somewhat surprised that she knew who I was. "I guess I'm expected, then? I have an appointment to follow up on some test?"

"You're our last patient today; we don't like to run late. We just have a few forms for you to fill out, here." The receptionist slid me a clipboard with a huge number of papers. "It's our standard paperwork;" she said. "Your referring doctor gave us your information; you only need to sign on the end."

I made a show of skimming the first few pages, then, as most people probably tended to, skipped to the end and signed. I returned the clipboard, and the receptionist grabbed a nearby file, and stood up.

"Alright, I'll take you right back." She retrieved a short-sleeved white coat and a stethoscope, which she hung around her neck. Opening a door nearby, she invited I past the entryway.

"You'll be seeing Doctor Samantha today. I'm Robin, one of her assistants. I'll get you all prepared for her, get your vitals and so forth." I followed her past the reception desk into a wide hallway area, and Robin led me off in one direction.

"So what's the deal here?" I asked. "My physician insisted I come, but didn't explain much. What test is it that I'm here for?"

"I'll let Doctor Samantha answer your questions," Robin replied as we walked down the hall. "I'll be doing your preliminary exam, and then the Doctor will be seeing you."

"Want to take a short tour?" Robin asked. "There's too much see here at the Center before we get started, but we at least have time to see the highlights." To me, putting my potentially unpleasant exam off a bit sounded like a great idea, and I said so.

"Well, behind us is our dental practice," Robin indicated the direction opposite where they were headed. "We have many different services and specialties available to our patients." We passed a few rooms that were clearly storage, and a sign which read 'General Medicine.

"Up here are our general exam rooms, where we'll put you in a moment." Under the sign was what looked like another small reception area. At a computer desk nearby sat a tall woman, with bright green eyes, dressed in pink scrubs.

The new woman greeted them as they approached. "Hi Robin. Is this him?" Apparently everyone knew their appointments, I thought.

"It is; just giving him the tour before his exam." Robin replied.

"Make sure to show him the operating room, everyone always loves to see it," the new woman replied as we continued on. We went past the desk, and past several side rooms. Some had doors open, and I could see the various trappings of a doctor's office inside; eye charts, exam tables, white gurneys and the like.

"That's Doctor Anna." Robin explained as turned a corner in the hallway "She's a specialist and assists here occasionally. "

"She mentioned an operating room?" I asked.

"Yes; the Center has a fully equipped OR for each department. And here we are; take a look!" We now stood in front of two swinging doors made of metal and glass. I stepped close to the glass. Behind, I could see a large room with an operating table in the center. The table was partially draped with blue sheets or paper, and had both arm-rest sticking out perpendicular to the main body. I could see all sorts of machines all around the table, stands holding bags of liquid, and tubes and wires. Three large light arrays were hanging down from the ceiling above. It certainly looked like a fully equipped operating room to me.

Robin smiled. "Want to take a closer look? We really only need an exam room, but it's not like the OR is in use." She pushed open one of the doors. "It might be more interesting just to do our exam here..."

I shuddered. I was nervous enough being here, and didn't want to go in. "I don't think that's a good idea; I'm a bit of coward and would prefer the less interesting setting."

Robin looked disappointed and let the door swing closed. "Suit yourself; we'll just get you setup in an exam room then." We headed back down the hall, and through a side room, into a normal looking exam room. Robin shut the door behind us.

"You can hang your coat on the door," she indicated as she turned her attention to the file she carried. "Then take off your shirt and sit up on the gurney here."

I took off my coat, and hung it on on a hook. Feeling a little vulnerable, I took off my shirt as well, and hung it over my coat. In the corner of the exam room sat a white padded cot of some kind, which looked like it might be some sort of mobile gurney. It sat high off the ground, with its back in a seated position. I hoisted myself up and sat on the edge as instructed. My feet dangled just above the ground.

Robin opened the file on a nearby counter, and began washing her hands as she read it. Finishing, she pulled on a pair of white latex gloves. From a tray already on the counter, she took a small syringe and a vial, and turned towards me.

"Now, John, before we get started, your file says you've missed some important boosters. Before Doctor Samantha gets here, we'll get you up to date." Robin stuck the syringe in the vial, and carefully drew out a measured dose. I felt myself getting more nervous; this was a major part of doctor visits I hated, but I said nothing. Robin tapped out the air bubbles, and retrieved an alcohol swab.

"Just a little pinch, now, and then the hard part will be over," she said. I felt a cold spot as she swabbed my exposed shoulder, and I looked away. "Here we go..."

I felt a sharp stab as Robin quickly stuck in the syringe. The pain grew somewhat as she depressed the syringe. "Ow!" I said, although carefully not sounding too distressed.

"Almost there..." Robin comforted, and then she was done, and make a note in the file.

"That's it! Not so bad, was it? Let's get the rest of the preliminaries over with before Doctor Samantha is ready." I found myself somewhat relived; that wasn't bad at all.

Looking at a wall clock, she next took my wrist, and put her finger on my pulse. "We'll just count it out for a minute; the old fashion way." she said as she watched the clock for a full minute. I found myself getting a little bored, honestly.

Next, Robin retrieved a blood-pressure cuff from a mount on the wall, and the stethoscope from around her neck. "Scoot back against the backrest, and give me your arm." Robin told me. I pushed myself back against the soft back, and I let her take my left arm in her gloved hands. She wrapped the cuff above my elbow, velcroing it tight. She put her cold stethoscope on my elbow, and inflated the cuff slowly.

I could feel the beating of my heart in my arm, and felt a funny sensation as she inflated it. It felt like the pressure was traveling up my arm, into my chest and my head. "Ummm..." I said, not particularly eloquently. My arms began to tingle and I found I was dizzy.

"Ummm.. I think something's wrong." I said to Robin. I tried to sit up, but found I could hardly move; my mussels seemed weak and I couldn't find my balance.

Robin smiled. "Don't fight it." She said. "That injection works very quickly." Putting a gloved hand against my chest, she pressed me back into the white mattress.

I thought that was a very confusing thing for her to say, and her reaction confused me. But I didn't spend much time worrying about it, as the room abruptly lurched backwards and went dark.

Robin watched as John's eyes because unfocused, and slowly closed. The sedative in the "booster shot" worked very fast, but she held him down for a minute, just to make sure it had taken full effect, before deflating and removing the blood-pressure cuff. Unlocking the wheels on the gurney, she moved it away from the wall, and with a lever reclined it (and its sedated patient) flat. She folded up metal side-rails as there was a knock on the door.

"Come in, Janet!" Robin invited. The door opened to reveal another young woman, blond and in purple surgical scrubs.

"How'd it go?" The new woman, Nurse Janet, asked, as she retrieved a pair of scissors from Robin's tray.

"He didn't want to walk into the operating room on his own accord, but the 'exam' went smooth as silk. Didn't struggle at all." Robin reported, undoing John's belt. Janet began cutting off John's pants and underwear, as Robin prepared the gurney to move.

I have vague snippets for the next few minutes. Images of ceiling tiles going by as I moved down a hallway, fading out to blackness. A disconnected impression of a nurse in purple scrubs looking down at me. Movement through a set of double-doors. Female voices talking to each other, gloved hands lifting me, touching my chest, taping something there? Three uncomfortably bright lights stabbing my eyes as they fluttered closed again. An impression of a room with people in motion, busy people all around me. A rythmic beeping noise as I drifted off.

My next impression was that someone had poked me in the right arm. I opened my eyes, disoriented. It was impossibly bright. I tried to shield my eyes with a hand, but neither arm moved when I willed it, which only added to my confusion.

I was on my back, cold... naked? My head felt like it was full of gauze, and I shook my head to try to clear it. I tried to speak, to ask who was there, to ask what was going on, but my throat was impossibly dry and I only made a quiet croaking noise. What had happened? I left like I was in a hospital for some reason; had I been in an accident?

"He's waking up." said a familiar voice with a light accent. Robin's voice. My memory rushed back; I remembered the clinic, waiting for the Doctor, the injection. I turned my head to the side and opened my eyes again, and the rhythmic beeping noise in the background sped up.

I was in the operating room I'd seen earlier. I could see my right arm palm-up on the arm rest, with two black straps holding it in place, as a nurse with long white gloves taped down an IV needle she'd just inserted. Behind her, another nurse was drawing a big syringe full of liquid; both nurses wore green surgical gowns and caps, and were masked, but I recognized Robin's blue eyes when the second nurse looked at me.

I noticed I had sensors on my chest, too, and wires leading from them to a nearby display. Something squeezed my left arm. A blood pressure cuff? I turned to find that it was; there was also a sensor on a finger, and my left arm was also strapped down. Another green-gowned figure stood to my left side, with a white mask. The figure reached up and moved one of the surgical lights to shine less in my face.

"Hello, John" the new figure spoke, a female voice. "I'm Doctor Samantha. Everything is alright. You're in our operating room, and we're about to get started. Just close your eyes, and you'll just drift off to sleep." I tried to talk, to object. I wasn't supposed to be getting an operation! But I couldn't seem to make any words.

I pulled on my arms, my legs, to sit up, but my legs didn't move very far and my chest was held down, too. Only my head was free. This was very wrong! I could see I was naked, hooked up to all sorts of sensors, strapped to an operating table. I didn't want to be here, but I couldn't get free!

"It's alright John, we'll take good care of you. You won't feel a thing." Another voice spoke behind and above me, and another masked figure leaned into my view from above. Green eyes. I think it was Dr. Anne, who I'd seen earlier? "Janet, let's push some Versed; he's getting agitated."

I watched, helpless, as Robin passed the nurse I didn't know (it must be Janet) a syringe from a nearby tray. I try to say "no", to call out, but I can no more yell than get my arms free. "This will just help you relax," Robin tells me as Janet plunges the needle into a port on the IV tube and injects the contents.

Everyone goes quiet for a minute. I look around franticly; they're all watching me for the inevitable effect. I prepare to fight it, to try to stay lucid, my heart racing. But when it hits me I immediately melt. The room begins to spin, my vision softens. I still know this is wrong, but it bothers me a lot less. My head flops onto its small pillow, and I look up at Nurse Robin's eyes. She's sitting on a stool close to me now, behind me, right by my head. She's upside-down from my perspective. Her gloved hands rest reassuringly on my shoulders. I don't recall her moving, or maybe I'm just having a hard time keeping up with what's going on now. Her blue eyes, above her bright white surgical mask, smile at me, and I want to get lost in them.

"That's much better, isn't it?" she asks. I force myself to look around, away from her eyes. The room is in motion again. Janet injects another syringe, then prepares yet another, this one full of white stuff. Dr. Samantha is preparing a tray full of surgical tools; I spot a scalpel, forceps, cotton balls soaked in disinfectant. Dr. Anna is somewhere behind my head pushing buttons and turning dials on a large machine. I look back at Robin, who I can tell is still smiling. I vaguely notice the heart-monitor is beeping slower now. I'm not sure if anything I just saw should bother me, so I smile back at her. I feel warm and happy now, which seems strange for some reason I can't place...

“I'm ready to proceed, Anna,” Dr. Samantha says. “Please put our patient under.”

Robin stands from her stool, and moves back towards the big machine, out of my view. Before I can be concerned, she is replaced by Anne and her green eyes smiling down at me. “Alright, John, tilt your head back for me?” The latex of her left hand presses lightly against my chin, and I willingly comply. I'm looking up at her masked face, the bright surgical lights, the ceiling, and Anne's right hand appears holding a big clear plastic anesthesia mask. I'm momentarily concerned, but the drugs quickly push the feeling away as she starts talking. “I'm going to put this mask over your face, and I want you to take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that?” I momentarily want to say no, but can't remember why.

She lowers the mask onto my face slowly, the plastic making a tight seal. “Deep breaths now, John.” she tells me. I cautiously take a breath through the mask, which smells sweet. I can taste the air, the gas, on my tongue. It's not so bad. I breath out, and take another breath, this one deeper.

“That's it..” Anna is watching me closely. “Deep breath in, then blow it away.” I breath out, and in again. “Good... that's it. Just relax and breath...” I take another breath, and notice I'm getting dizzy. Another breath. Another... in... and out. The table I'm on seems softer, and the lights above me brighter.

I hear Anna's voice again, quieter, almost far away. “Sevo now, please, Robin.” I take another breath, this one involuntary, like the gas is forcing its way into my lungs. The lights are even brighter, and my eyelids are getting heavy. The gas forces itself in again, and my vision blurs.

“Off to sleep, now, John.” Anna says. Nurse Janet is injecting something into my arm; it burns but I barely notice it. Suddenly, I don't want to sleep. This isn't right. Something isn't right. But I take another breath, and my eyelids flutter closed. The burning from the injection travels up my vein quickly, and I'm floating off the table. The gas forces its way in again....

Your routine examination turned into a nightmare, or perhaps a dream.

You arrived bright and early for what the Doctor said was a "routine examination". The nurse was pleased that you followed the necessary instructions like fasting from the night before and using the enema that morning.

You happily let her change you into the hospital gown and praised you for being a "good girl".

You were given a couple of pills which the nurse said was necessary for the scans. You wondered what scans and why the pills but was too polite to ask. You swallowed both in a gulp and the nurse was visibly pleased.

You were asked to wait on the bed and after 10 minutes, you felt sleepy and detached. You were starting to feel a little anxious but at the same time, unable to focus. Everything seemed so bright you had problems keeping your eyes open and decided to lie down and close your eyes for a bit...

The next thing you know, you were strapped to a gurney moving down the corridors of the hospital. The lights above you flashed by as you were pushed towards an unknown destination.

You tried to ask what where you were going but your words came out slurred.

"Relax Darling, we will take good care of you," said a masked nurse as you continued your journey.

You knew something was not right when they wheeled you into an operating theatre. The crew in full scrubs were preparing tools on several trays and trolleys. You tried to protest but your limbs were heavy and weak. They moved quickly and efficiently to transferred your drugged body onto the operating table.

The Doctor, now in surgical scrubs, adjusted the surgical light to focus on your groin area, as the nurses affixed the stirrups to the side of the operating table.

You tried to kick when they lifted your legs onto the stirrups but you were slow and sluggish.

"No, please," you finally managed but was shushed by a nurse beside you.

You looked towards the voice and you saw her with a hissing mask caming up to your face.

"Looks like the pre-medication is wearing off. Let's get you properly sedated now."

You tried to protest but she was swift and firm, covering your mouth and nose with the gas mask and fitted the strap behind your neck.

"Breathe. Don't fight," she said authoritatively.

You tried to explain that there was a mistake but she would not listen. She just kept saying, "Don't worry dear, just relax and take a deep breath. Everything will be alright. You are just delusional from the medication."

You tired to sit up and lift your legs out of the stirrups but your movements were uncoordinated. The nurse held the mask firmly and forced your head back on the operating table.

You smelled something sweat in the gas and tried to hold your breath. But you were soon suffocating and took a really deep breath.

"That's it, good girl, just breathe," she said.

Your world spun immediately. Your chest felt warm and heavy as your limbs started to tingle. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your eyelids felt like thick heavy curtains.

"Yes, breathe," you heard the nurse repeating herself everytime you took a breath.

The nurse were strapping your legs to the stirrups as you continue to fight the gas.

"Breathe," said the nurse and you couldn't help but breathe.

You knew you were not going to win this as your ears started to ring.

"Sleep," you heard the nurse said, just above the ringing.

You felt yourself losing all your strength to the point you couldn't feel your body anymore.

"Looks like she is ready," said the Doctor. "Let's get started."

You were now floating in a sea of darkness.

"Let's get the embryo, our surrogate is ready," said the Doctor.

You did not react. You were too far gone.