The Last Bandage and the Flowing IV Fluid

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The IV fluid fell with a steady, metronomic tick. Na-bi forced her heavy eyelids open. Her body felt considerably lighter than before. The dull weight that had been crushing her lower abdomen, the raw sting between her legs — both had vanished as if they had never been there at all.

"You're awake?"

The Hospital Director stood beside the bed. He checked her condition and a satisfied smile spread across his face.

"The recovery agent took nicely. Must be because you're young — your regenerative ability is practically monstrous."

Na-bi stared blankly down at her own arm. The forearm that had been bruised and swollen from the Director's indiscriminate needle jabs was now unmarked, the skin clean.

All of it thanks to the agent that had been mixed into her drip. The Hospital Director took her to the bathroom to wash her.

Warm water soaked through Na-bi's body. The Director worked up a lather of soap and scrubbed every inch of her — washing away the blood and semen that had clotted at the entrance of her vagina, wiping the traces of excrement from the cleft of her ass.

"You should leave clean. This is the last time, after all."

His hands were gentle. His eyes were not. They remained as greedy as ever. He washed her breasts and pinched her nipples; he cleaned her buttocks and kneaded her hips as he went. Na-bi hung her head in shame, but she did not refuse. It's over now. I just have to endure a little longer.

After the bath, Na-bi sat on the bed with her skin freshly dried and warm. The Director pulled something from a drawer. A wad of white cloth. Bandages — the mysterious Recovery Bandage Na-bi had taken from the CVS 24 warehouse. Torn and cut to pieces by the Patient Monster, only scraps remained.

"This is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your only armor, isn't it?"

The Director approached her with the bandage scraps in his hand.

"I'll wrap it for you myself. A discharge gift."

He wound the bandage around her chest. There wasn't enough cloth to cover her breasts entirely, but it just managed to hide her nipples. Even as he wrapped, his fingers traced slyly down the valley between them.

"Nnh...... that tickles......"

"Bear with it. I'm wrapping it nicely for you."

He put his arms around her waist and used what cloth remained to bind her lower body, passing the bandage between her legs and around her ass in the shape of panties. The strip was so narrow that the slightest movement threatened to let her inner lips slip free.

"Perfect."

The Director stroked her sex through the bandage.

"I hope it stays nice and tight until the very end."

He tossed her backpack under the bed with a careless thud.

"Your things. I packed them for you."

The sight of the backpack brought tears welling up in Na-bi's eyes. I'm finally getting out. Five days of hell flashed through her mind like a lantern show — the oral rape, the dislocated jaw, the uterine probe, the metal rod driven into her. She felt proud of herself for having endured it all, and wretched for the same reason.

"Thank you...... Thank you so much......"

Na-bi bowed her head to the Hospital Director. The irony of offering thanks to the devil who had tortured her. But her mind was already in the grip of a single, overwhelming relief: she had survived.

"It's still too early. The night is long."

The Director laid her back down on the bed, then reached for the IV line and adjusted it. The fluid bag was still half full of clear liquid.

"Just rest until this runs out. It's a nutritional supplement. You won't be able to eat for a while once you leave, so we need to fill ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you up properly."

He turned the regulator, slowing the drip to a crawl. One drop at a time. Very, very slowly.

"I'll come this evening. To prepare for the 'party.'"

Leaving those loaded words behind, the Hospital Director walked out. The door clicked shut.

Silence settled over the room. Na-bi pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes. Her body felt clean and light from the recovery agent, but her mind was in tatters. Sleep crashed over her — whether from whatever had been mixed into the drip, or simply from the release of tension, she couldn't tell.

Na-bi dreamed. She was back at the convenience store, eating all the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chocolate in the warehouse to her heart's content. She was lying on a soft cardboard box in a place that was safe and empty, drifting off to sleep. In that sweet illusion, she smiled.

But she didn't know. What was flowing into her veins was no mere nutritional supplement.

At the top of the IV bag, in an injection port so small it would never catch the eye, the Director had already seated a narrow tube. That tube ran to a device hidden behind the bed.

The drugs were not entering her yet. A timer had been set. When Na-bi fell into a deep sleep — and when the Director returned — that was when they would begin to flow, one after another.

How much time had passed? The windowless room made ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it impossible to tell day from night, but it felt as though she had slept a long while. Na-bi's eyes fluttered open. Her body was heavy — heavier and more languid than before. She could barely twitch a finger.

Creeeak.

The door opened. Out of the darkness, the Hospital Director stepped in. He was not wearing his white doctor's gown. He wore nothing at all — the smooth, naked body of a doll, silver ball joints gleaming in the dark. And between his legs, his cock still stood grotesquely, rigidly erect.

"You're awake?"

He came to the bedside and switched on the stand lamp. Yellow light fell across Na-bi's face. She squinted against it.

"Director...... are we leaving now......?"

The question came out with difficulty. Her voice would not work properly. Her tongue felt thick, tangled in her mouth.

"Yes. Time to go."

The Director climbed onto the bed and straddled her legs. His weight pressed down on her, pinning her to the mattress.

"But first...... we ought to say goodbye, don't you think?"

He took hold of her patient gown. He did not unbutton it. He seized the fabric in both fists and ripped it apart.

Riiip!

"Ah......?"

Before she could even think of resisting, the gown was torn away. He cut the bandage underneath with scissors, as if it were merely in the way. Her breasts spilled free.

"The lower half is in the way too."

The Director stripped off her pants and the bandage she had been using as panties, peeling everything away. In an instant she was naked. Na-bi tried to curl in on herself from shame, but her limbs would not obey. They hung limp, as if they belonged to someone else. The muscle relaxant had begun to take hold.

"Why...... why won't my body......"

Her pupils trembled. Terror crept up her spine, slow and cold.

"I gave you a little something to help you relax. We have a party to enjoy, after all."

The Director climbed onto her upper body. His knees pinned her arms to the bed. He looked down at her face and licked his lips, greedy and unhurried.

"Na-bi. You've worked hard these five days."

"Now then...... let's see just how well you've been tamed."

One hand gripped her breast; the other swept down her belly and along her thighs. Everywhere his fingers touched, the traces of the past five horrific days remained intact.

On her lower abdomen lingered the faint remnant of distension from being forced to swallow insect soup and vomit it back up. Along her side, a bruise from yesterday's boot bloomed a deep, ugly blue. Between her legs was especially wretched. After the repeated enemas, the forced defecation, and being ravaged by the eels, her anus hung slightly open, the sphincter unable to close.

"The back is still gaping. Those eels got a little too greedy, it seems."

He tapped the folded rim of her anus with a fingertip. Her body flinched on reflex, but the muscle relaxant would not let her clench. That helpless twitch only excited him further.

"And the front is even more of a spectacle. Pierced by a probe, threaded with a metal rod, stretched around my cock — it's completely wrecked."

The Director spread her outer lips wide. The mucous membrane was swollen red; her inner lips hung stretched and slack from the relentless abuse. Her vaginal entrance had not closed — it lay half open, the red flesh inside plainly visible. He shoved two fingers into that gaping slit.

Squish. Schlick.

"Hhk...... nngh......"

"Can you feel it? Your body remembers my fingers. You cry and say you hate it, but look how wet you are in here."

He curled his fingers and scraped down the inner walls. Her vagina tried to contract against her will, but the drug-addled muscles only fluttered, unable to push him out. The terror of a body that would not obey. Tears rolled from Na-bi's eyes and wet her temples.

"Don't cry. Today is a special day — we're celebrating your discharge."

His hand seized her breast. He raked his nails across her nipple.

"But the real party starts now."

The Director's eyes glowed red. He crashed his mouth against hers — a rough, burning kiss, his tongue sweeping through her mouth as if he meant to claim it. Na-bi gasped for air, but she did not even have the strength to turn her head.

He broke the kiss and whispered against her ear.

"Tonight is going to be long. And when you open your eyes tomorrow morning......"

He smiled, wet and ugly.

Na-bi could not grasp the meaning of those words. But instinct sounded an alarm all the same. It's a trap. I can't get out.

The Director spread her legs wide. Her muscles were slack; they fell open without resistance. Between them, pink mucous membrane lay fully exposed.

"I shall eat well."

The Director aligned himself with her entrance. And slowly — very, very slowly — he pushed in. Na-bi's body trembled, but it was not from pleasure. It was a drug-induced spasm, nothing more.

Night of Day 5. Na-bi's consciousness was growing dimmer. And the clear fluid of oblivion riding down the IV line began to wipe her brain cells away, one by one.