#forced injection

@whumpgifathon | Day 12: “Forced Injection”

Thanks for feeding my psychiatric whump obsession. I gladly appreciate your tip ❤️

Pelan pandemik baharu New Zealand termasuk suntikan paksa. Semua langkah mandatori akan dibenarkan oleh kerajaan New Zealand termasuk yang berikut:

- Kuasa untuk menahan, mengasingkan, atau kuarantin.

- Kuasa untuk menetapkan rawatan pencegahan.

- Seorang anggota polis boleh melakukan apa-apa yang munasabah perlu, termasuk penggunaan kekerasan.

- Sekatan pergerakan orang masuk atau keluar dari sesuatu kawasan.

- Menyekat perjalanan di dalam atau keluar dari New Zealand.

“Daniel? Danny?”

A bright light shone from an unidentifiable source.

“Forget it, he’s not going to be able to swallow pills for at least the next few hours.”

“Shot?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. And then what felt like a long time later, a pin prick in his arm. His hand rose to swat it away. It made contact with nothing but air. He squinted but couldn’t open his eyes, it was too bright.

“Get some rest buddy.”

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

“Danny? How are you doing buddy?”

His eyelids were heavy- hard to open. Too hard?

“You ready for lunch?”

Despite his now open eyes, the figures in front of him wouldn't focus.

“Hmmm?”

“Daniel you missed dinner and breakfast after your episode yesterday. It is time to get up. Let’s go.”

“M not hungry.” he managed very slowly.

“You need to eat. Come along now.” Grunts of effort.

Was he standing? Was he sitting before?

“Good, attaboy. Let’s go.” Who were the voices trying to coax? ….Him?

The hands let go… there had been hands on him? He began to fall. Like a sack of potatoes, he thought to himself.

Like a sack of potatoes.

Where did he get that from?

More hands came.

“Doctor, I don’t know if he’s ready yet. He can’t stand long enough to even take a step.”

There was a sigh, “I think the dosage was too high, he’s been losing weight.”

Another sigh, “Very well. Lay him back down, do hourly checks of his vitals. Let me know when he surfaces. I want to chat with him.”

“You made your decision.” - Nurse to me right before I was tackled for the SECOND TIME, within about 15 mins or so, by two security guards and two nurses to force an injection of 5 and 2. (5mg of haldol and 2mg of ativan)

Whumpee is kneeling against the wooden post, his back is pressed flush against the pole and his hands are shackled tightly above him. His legs wrap around the post and are duct taped at his ankles. The duct tape twists and cuts into the skin. Small rivulets of red blood trickle down his feet. 

Buckled leather straps wrap around his torso and the pole binding him tight. Whumpee is a thin man, his ribs protrude, sharp angles standing out from his chest as he breathes shallowly, terrified of what’s coming.

Whumpers fingers clench tight, deep in Whumpee’s hair as he wrenches his head back. He forces his mouth open, the other hand pinching his cheeks and feeds Whumpee. Thin slices of meat, dripping with gravy. Bites of hamburger, thin fries with ketchup and mustard. Chicken pasta Alfredo with its creamy sauce, all shoved down Whumpee’s throat. Whumpers hand clasps Whumpee’s jaw tight forcing his mouth closed and he pinches his nose to make sure every morsel is swallowed.

Whumpee is stuffed full, his stomach has reduced in size with its lack of food and he feels like he will split at the seams. Dribble runs from his mouth and mucus pours from his nose as he fights the urge to be sick. 

“Now for our favourite part Whumpee.”

Whumpee manages to let out a small pained groan and muffled cry for mercy as Whumper retrieves a thin tube, smears it with lube and starts to ram it, without care, up Whumpee’s nose. Whumpee chokes and gags as the tube passes into his throat, the tube continues to scratch and tear the soft tissue as it forces its way down into his stomach. 

Whumper fills a large syringe with a heavy saline solution and attaches it to the end of the tube that hangs from Whumpee’s nose. As Whumper depresses the plunger the liquid flows through the tube, a slow moving river of torment. Whumpee watches with a wide grin as it travels up Whumpee’s nose, vanishes down his throat and into his stomach, the heavy salt in the solution reacting with the mass of food almost instantly. 

Whumpee heaves violently, the mixture burning as it flows back up his oesophagus. His head hangs as he vomits down his naked chest and onto the floor, a thick puddle forming at his knees. Sweat pours from his body as another wave a saline hitting his stomach triggers his gag reflex again and more retching follows. His throat tingles and his stomach contracts as another wave of food exits his body. He is shaking from head to toe, eyes watering, throat burning.

Whumper smirks at his helpless victim. He grasps the tube and yanks it from Whumpee’s nose. Its cuts as it is pulled abruptly from his body and the metallic taste of blood joins the acrid burning from the vomit in his throat. 

“Poor Whumpee.” Whumper croons as he runs a hand down Whumpee’s face, the attempt to soothe a manufactured lie. 

“You look hungry”, he whispers as he picks up a bowl of chilli and rice and starts to forced it into Whumpee’s mouth. 

CW: if you’re squeamish about the dentist, maybe skip this one 😌 it’s from your POV after all…

You’re woken by your cell door creaking open on rusty hinges. You try not to shake as you hear the thud of heavy footsteps coming toward you. 

A knee presses into your back and as you begin to squirm, your hands are pinned in another’s whilst cuffs are clipped tightly round your wrists, biting the skin.

Two pairs of hands lift you from your bed and drag you down the hall, you trip on your own feet and crash painfully to your knees. 

‘Up, now’ snarls the one on your left and you stagger upright, knees stinging from the grit that has torn through the flimsy trousers.

Entering a bright room, you are pushed into what looks like a dentists chair and restrained, legs, arms and a leather strap round your head. 

A man in a white lab coat and surgical mask enters the room and eyes you coldly as a whimper escapes you involuntarily.

The two goons are now guarding the door in front of you, struggling to hide their leering grins. The surgeon leans over you, his hands tighten and dig into your forearms. You can see his eyes pull upward as he smiles and moves to grasp your chin and slowly force your jaw open, he runs a finger along the teeth in your lower jaw and hums with satisfaction. Your flesh crawls and breaks out in goosebumps.

The surgeon looks you in the eyes, a sparkle of delight in his, “To make you our weapon, we need to alter your teeth, dental records are so easy to trace. This is the first step in your change”.

Your brain is sluggish with stunned horror, you manage to focus on the tray of tools he has waiting off to the side. Pliers, Rasps, Scalpels, all glitter in the bright lights with menace.

One of the goons comes forward with a syringe of cloudy fluid and hands it to the surgeon. The goon pins your jaw open with his bare hands and the surgeon slides the needle into the roof of your mouth. Agony shrieks through the soft palette, into your skull and settles behind your eyes making them water relentlessly.

“A little something to make extraction easier”, he delights.

A second stab of a cold, blunt needle, forces a stream of drugs into the top of your hand.

“That’s to keep you awake, but sadly immobile”

He picks up the pliers and hits a button, the dentist chair tilts backwards with a soft whine, you stare up at the surgeon, his head framed by the surgical lights blinding you from above, your jaw now slack and your body utterly defenceless.

“This is going to hurt” the man laughs with glee.

He takes a deep breath and sighs “Ah yes, this is going to be so much fun! For me. Not for you”.

And you lie there helplessly as the cold jagged metal teeth of the pliers clasp into the first incisor in your lower jaw. You feel the brute force of the pull and the searing agony as the first tooth slowly starts to pull free of your mouth. The root comes away from your jawbone and a gush of blood fills your mouth, a cold breeze filling the gap where the tooth had sat.

Engulfing Pain blazes through your jaw as the surgeon drops the first tooth into the steel pan. It falls with a cheerful ‘ping’ as it hits the dish.

Tears leak from your eyes as the surgeon turns back and fits the edge of the pliers round your next tooth.