Cold Metal Probe and the Scream of the Womb
A white hiss of fluorescent light stabbed through her eardrums. Na-bi opened her eyes. Her mind was shatteringly, painfully clear. The hazy fog that had wrapped her brain until yesterday had lifted, and only a cold, sharp reality stood vivid before her.
"Nn... ngh..."
She shifted with a groan. Her entire body throbbed. It felt as though every joint had been pulled apart. But the greatest pain — the greatest sense of something foreign — came from between her legs.
She turned her head slowly and looked beside her. The Hospital Director lay pressed against her back. And they were still connected.
"Ah... ahh..."
Her pupils trembled as if an earthquake had struck them. The memories came flooding back. Yesterday, drugged out of her mind, she had spread herself open, rocked her hips, taken pleasure in it — those filthy recollections crashed over her brain like a tsunami. What have I done? Clinging to that monster?
A terrible revulsion turned her stomach inside out. She clamped a hand over her mouth and carefully drew her body forward.
A wet sound of flesh peeling from flesh. Air rushing into the vacuum her body had made. The Hospital Director's cock slid out of her.
She watched it run down her thighs. White, sticky, cloudy fluid. The monster's semen, pooled in her womb all night, came pouring out as if a dam had burst. There was so much of it that it formed a puddle on the bedsheets.
It was wretched. Her body was filthy, wrecked beyond recognition, and her mind was clear enough to register every bit of that filth. This was the morning of the third day.
"You're up early."
A cold voice from behind her. Na-bi's shoulders jumped. The Hospital Director sat up and looked down at her. His eyes were different from yesterday. The false kindness was gone, the performance dropped. What remained was cold and transparent: the gaze of an observer.
"The drugs appear to have worn off. There's life in your eyes."
He poked her trembling shoulder with a fingertip.
"Today you'll take your lesson sober. It is day three, after all."
"I-I don't want to... stay away from me..."
When she tried to scramble backward, the Hospital Director seized her by the hair.
A sharp wrench.
"Ah!"
"You liked it so much yesterday. Playing the modest little thing now?"
He dragged her off the bed. She was flung to the floor. Her knees scraped raw and began to bruise. Before she could even feel the pain, he grabbed her arm and hauled her along.
"You came far too much yesterday. Packed solid all the way inside."
He took her to the treatment room at one side of the office. There, instead of an ordinary hospital bed, stood an unfamiliar chair — a gynecological examination table with a leather backrest and metal stirrups for raising the legs. It was far taller than a normal one, and restraint straps hung from it in clusters.
"Get on."
It was an order. When she hesitated, he kicked her square in the ass.
A meaty thud.
"Ghk!"
She crawled onto the chair as if tumbling onto it. Cold leather sheeting touched her back. With practiced ease, he spread her legs and set them in the stirrups, then tightened the leather straps around her ankles.
Click. Creak.
"No... take these off... please..."
Her legs were spread wide toward the empty air. Her sex was laid utterly bare — semen glistening at the entrance, inner labia swollen red. The Hospital Director folded his arms and gazed at the sight as if savoring it.
"We'll start with a cleaning. All the way to the deep parts."
He picked up an instrument from the stainless steel tray beside him. The clink of cold metal on metal scraped at her nerves.
What he held was a long metal rod, blunt-tipped but thin and gleaming silver — a uterine sound. Originally a medical instrument for measuring the depth of the uterus or checking its curvature.
"Ah...? That's..."
Na-bi's pupils dilated. He was going to put that cold, hard iron spike inside her?
"Hold still. If you move, it will puncture through."
He said it offhandedly as he stepped between her legs. With his other hand, he picked up a cold metal speculum.
Click.
The speculum's cold beak forced its way into her loosened entrance. No lubricant. Dry metal scraping against mucous membrane.
"Aagh! It hurts! It's cold!"
He ignored her and turned the speculum's screw.
A screech. A tick.
Her vaginal canal was forcibly expanded. Red inner flesh opened like a tunnel. He visually confirmed the cervix, now fully exposed — a narrow opening with semen pooled in it.
"Going in."
The cold probe slid into her vagina. Then it found the narrow gap of the cervix — that minute hole — and stabbed through.
"Ghhhhk!!!!!!"
Her hips jerked upward. It was not the feeling of flesh being pierced. It was the horrific sensation of the deepest, most secret place in her body — a sanctuary that should have remained closed — being forcibly opened by a cold iron rod. The metal's chill seemed to touch her internal organs directly.
He did not stop. He pushed the probe all the way to the end of the uterus.
A dull thud.
The metal tip struck the fundus. A blunt pain spread through her entire lower abdomen.
"Nngh... my stomach... it hurts..."
She moaned, cold sweat pouring off her. An iron spike was buried in her belly. Every breath felt as though it were stabbing her diaphragm. He gripped the probe and stirred it.
Clatter. Scrape.
"Aaaagh! Don't scrape! Stop iiiit!"
The metal scraped the uterine lining, drawing out the semen pooled inside. It was closer to torture than cleaning. But the real hell was only beginning.
He did not remove the probe. That long iron rod remained buried deep in her uterus, its handle protruding far out of her vagina. And in that state, he unbuckled his pants.
A massively erect cock sprang free — veins bulging, hard as a block of stone.
"You can't be... no... there's a rod in there..."
She shook her head violently. There was a metal rod inside her. And he was going to thrust in like that?
"Don't worry. The hole is quite wide enough."
He grinned and aimed for the empty space beside the probe. The vagina, forced open by the speculum. A silver sound planted in the center of it — and he shoved the probe hard to one side, driving the head of his cock into the gap around it.
A grinding shove.
"KYAAAAAAAAAA——!!!!!!!"
It was not a scream. It was a death cry. Flesh and iron occupied the same hole. As his cock pushed in, it compressed the probe already buried inside. The thick shaft shoved the sound sideways, and the displaced metal crushed her uterine wall and vaginal wall like an iron club.
The inner walls trapped between flesh and metal screamed. Wet shearing, scraping, the click and grind of hard things meeting where they should never meet. Every time he moved his hips, the hard tissue at the tip of his cock struck the metal probe — a click, a grind — and the sound of iron colliding echoed from inside her belly.
"It hurts! I'm dying! It's punching through! Waaaaaah!"
Bound by the restraints, she thrashed like a madwoman. Every time he thrust, the probe moved with him. When the cock went deep, the sound stabbed up into the ceiling of her uterus — the sensation of being skewered, like meat on a spit.
"Hahaha! The tightness is different! It clamps down so much better with the iron against it!"
He burst into a laugh edged with madness and picked up speed.
Thud. Clang. Thud. Clang. Hell's own rhythm. The metal probe moved like a lever, tearing at the mouth of her uterus. Her lower abdomen burned from the inside. The sensation of cold iron mixed with the frictional heat of hot flesh, as if it would melt her brain.
"Save... me... ghk..."
Her eyes rolled back. Foam spilled from the corner of her mouth. The pain was so great she could not even make a sound. But he did not stop. He gripped the probe's handle and, while thrusting, simultaneously rotated it.
A grinding turn.
"Hhk!!!!!!"
The iron rod spun inside her uterus. The mucous membrane of the inner wall twisted and scraped. Her body jerked as if electrocuted.
"Good... very good..."
His face contorted with pleasure. Taking her pain-filled screams as a lullaby, he drove into a final spurt. Probe and cock — two weapons — packed her insides and ravaged her without a gap.
He buried himself to the root. The probe stabbed the very top of her uterus.
A deep, throbbing pulse. Ejaculation. Hot semen flowed down the cold metal rod and spread through her womb. The temperature difference was horrific. She trembled and gasped. She wanted to lose consciousness, but the presence of the iron rod planted in her belly was so distinct she could not even faint.
"Hoo..."
He pulled out with a ragged breath. But he left the probe in place. Between her legs, from the spread-open hole, only the silver handle dangled. Semen and blood flowing from inside dripped, dripped down the probe.
"We're not done yet."
He picked up another instrument from the tray. This time, a mouth gag — a tool for forcing the jaws apart. And a thick tube fitted with an endoscopic camera.
"The upper tract needs cleaning as well, doesn't it?"
He gripped the jaw of the half-unconscious Na-bi and fitted the gag in. Her mouth was forced open. Her jaw joint screamed.
"This one's rather thick. It will reach all the way to the stomach."
He pushed the black tube down her throat.
Ghk! Wretch!
The gag reflex surged up, but with her jaw locked by the spreader, her body could only dry-heave, unable to vomit properly. The tube scraped down her esophagus. A horrific fullness of a foreign object filling her stomach. Iron rod below, rubber hose above. Her body felt less like a human's than a pipe for connecting tubes.
"Look at the screen. See how filthy it is inside you."
He turned the monitor toward her eyes.
Watching a live broadcast of her own guts, she screamed without a sound. Tears streamed down and soaked her ears. This was not rape. It was dissection. An experiment performed on a living body.
He began injecting something through the tube. Cold water? Or drugs? Her stomach sloshed and swelled.
The Hospital Director's voice receded. Na-bi's consciousness drifted on a sea of pain. Day three. Not even half of it had passed.