Chapter 45 [EP.7] The Devil's Bargain: Lube and Medical Fees #016-24. The Swamp of White Gel and the Sleepwalking Doll
In the darkness, the sound of dozens of joints clashing echoed. Na-bi was awake, but she could not tell whether what she saw was real or a dream. The muscle relaxant and sedative that had seeped into her bloodstream through her veins had thickened her brain matter until she was paralyzed, unable to twitch a single finger. Her eyelids felt so heavy she had to force them open.
White shadows surrounded the bed—smooth plastic skin and features erased by magic, drawn with a red smile. The Nurse Mannequins had returned from vacation. Or perhaps they had never truly gone on one at all. Just as they had waited in the darkness for Na-bi to break, they crawled onto the bed like starving hyenas.
-Clack.
A cold plastic hand seized Na-bi's thigh, the touch of manufactured coolness without a trace of human warmth.
“Uh… ugh…”
Na-bi could not even produce a proper sound. Her tongue flailed uselessly inside her mouth. She should have run, she should have screamed, but her body lay limp as a wet rag.
The mannequins spread her legs wide, tearing them apart like tearing flesh. The ruined entrance to her pussy, already shredded by the Hospital Director and the metal instruments, lay fully exposed—a mess of blood, semen, and fluids tangled together.
One of the mannequins approached with a tube, popped the lid, and poured the contents between Na-bi’s legs.
-Vwooo.
Cold and sticky white gel. The same mysterious lubricant and aphrodisiac the creatures had smeared across Na-bi’s body in the lobby. The moment it touched her wounded mucous membrane, a chemical burning sensation flared to life.
“Huik! It stings…!”
Na-bi’s hips jerked upward, but other mannequins pinned her limbs down. They rubbed the gel into her skin with their fingers, forcing it deep inside. Where the pain had dulled, a tickling itch like worms crawling beneath the skin and a hot, throbbing heat welled up.
-Click. Clunk.
The hard plastic fingers dug into her pussy. Not soft flesh, but swollen joint nodes scraped the inner walls, drawing blood. Foam of blood and gel mixed together, turning pink and creamy.
“Ah… aaah…”
Na-bi shook her head and whimpered, but the mannequins did not stop. This time from behind.
One mannequin spread her ass cheeks, exposing the anus already stretched and loosened by the Hospital Director’s balloon catheter. They squeezed in a thick load of white gel.
-Swoo.
A cold foreign pressure followed by hard insertion. They used not only their fingers but the tools they had brought—cold glass rods, bumpy plastic models—shoving whatever they could into every hole.
Thanks to the muscle relaxant, her sphincter could not control itself. It opened as much as it was pushed and took in as much as it was poked. Na-bi’s body had become public property, a slightly softer, warmer doll for the lifeless dolls to play with.
As the night deepened, the pain dulled and reality faded. The plastic faces of the mannequins seemed to smile. The clicking joints sounded like giggling laughter.
‘Why… am I… here…?’
Memories snapped off one by one. It had hurt moments ago, yet now it felt numb. Someone was pressing her belly, but it did not feel like her belly. Dissociation. The mind that could no longer endure the pain had fled the body.
Until dawn, the violation continued. Na-bi passed out several times and woke to pain again and again. Blood and gel flowed from her pussy and anus, soaking the bed sheets.
-Bang.
Heavy footsteps. The mannequins all froze and backed away. It was the Hospital Director. Had he watched the entire night, or had he only just arrived? She could not tell.
He approached Na-bi, who was on the verge of fainting, half-lidded eyes and panting breath with no focus.
“Disgusting. I like it.”
The Hospital Director scanned her ruined lower body as if checking a patient. The front hole was too swollen to handle anymore. He turned her over and made her lie prone.
“I’ll finish it myself.”
He lifted her ass, already a mess of gel and blood. Na-bi’s waist, strength gone, bent deeply. The Hospital Director took out his penis and aimed it at the loosened anus.
-Puk.
“……ugh.”
Na-bi’s body trembled weakly. She had no strength left to scream, only to shake from the mechanical impact.
The Hospital Director gripped her hips and thrust roughly. Thanks to the gel smeared by the mannequins, he slid in smoothly, delivering a heavy pistoning that crushed the rectal inner wall.
“Now it’s time to send you.”
He moved his hips and whispered into Na-bi’s ear. Send? Discharge? In her hazy consciousness, the word ‘discharge’ faintly appeared. Whether it was hope or the beginning of another despair, she could not tell.
-Pak! Pak! Pak!
“Today is the seventh day. Our kids returned a bit early. Even if I send you on vacation, there’s nothing to enjoy, right?”
The Hospital Director chuckled. Seventh day. Last day. But Na-bi did not understand. Her brain, soaked in drugs, had lost all sense of time. She did not know what day it was or who she was.
-Vwoorurur.
The Hospital Director came deep inside her rectum. Hot liquid spread within. Na-bi dropped her head and lost consciousness completely.
An artificial alarm sounded. Na-bi woke. Her head felt as if it would split apart. Or rather, her mind was empty and hollow. Where am I? Hospital? Convenience store?
Na-bi tried to sit up. But her body moved without her permission, limbs flailing as if someone else’s. [Drug side effect: Sleepwalking and abnormal behavior]. She was awake, yet not awake. With the brain’s control center paralyzed, she moved in an automatic, reflexive zombie state.
“Are you awake?”
A gentle voice reached her. Na-bi turned her head. It was the nurses—kind-looking people in white uniforms. No, not people. Smooth plastic faces. But Na-bi’s brain could not recognize the grotesque unease. [Cognitive impairment] and [Hallucination]. They simply looked like nurses.
“You need to be treated.”
One Nurse Mannequin grabbed Na-bi’s arm. She did not resist, pulled like a doll and sat on the edge of the bed.
They changed her clothes, stripping off the blood- and filth-stained patient gown and dressing her in new ones. In the process, their hard fingers brushed her bare skin, pressed her bruised breasts, and touched the wounded crotch.
“Does it hurt?”
The mannequin asked. In reality, no sound came out, but in Na-bi’s mind the voice was clear.
“Ah… it hurts…”
Na-bi answered dully. Pain was felt, yet the judgment that it was bad did not form. It must be part of the treatment. Since they were nurses, they were helping her. The drugs had simplified and distorted her thinking.
The mannequins fed her. They scooped porridge with a spoon and put it in her mouth. But their plastic joints creaked clumsily, jamming the spoon against her palate or spilling hot porridge on her chin.
“Ouch, hot…”
Na-bi flinched, but they did not stop. They wiped the spilled porridge with their fingers—actually pinching—and forced her mouth open again to stuff it in. It was not feeding; it was breeding. Yet Na-bi ate without complaint, chewing and swallowing in mechanical repetition.
“It’s time to take medicine.”
As the feeding ended, they brought pills and water—[memory eraser] and [sedative]. Na-bi took them without suspicion. She did not remember whether she had eaten them yesterday or today. She simply ate when given.
After swallowing the medicine, the drowsiness deepened. Na-bi rose from the bed, staggering like a drunk or a puppet with cut strings, wandering the hospital room.
-Tap. Tap.
She walked while leaning on the wall, rummaging under the bed, searching for something. [Bandage]. The only survival keyword deeply embedded in Na-bi’s subconscious.
Na-bi pulled out her backpack from under the bed and took out a bundle of bandages. Pieces cut and torn by the Hospital Director with scissors, tattered and useless. Yet to Na-bi’s eyes they looked like the most precious treasure in the world.
She wrapped the bandages around her body with hazy eyes—on her wounded forearm, bruised thighs—clumsily winding them tight.
-Swoo.
The mysterious bandages from the convenience store warehouse. When they touched her skin, a bizarre sensation of the torn flesh sticking together filled her. The alien feeling of physically pulling skin to suture. But Na-bi mistook it for warmth.
“It’s safe…”
Na-bi muttered while wrapping the bandages. The Nurse Mannequins watched, surrounding her in a circle like observers in a mental ward or mocking a broken toy trying to repair itself.
-Click. Tick.
One mannequin approached Na-bi, grabbed the end of the bandage she had just wrapped, and slowly pulled.
“Eh…? Mine…”
Na-bi tried to grab it, but her reaction was slow. The mannequin undid the bandage, exposing the wound again. She shook her body as if delighted.
Na-bi did not get angry. She did not cry. She simply dazedly picked up the loosened bandage and wrapped it again—wrapping, unwrapping, wrapping—meaningless repetition like Sisyphus’s punishment.
“Na-bi.”
The Hospital Director entered. He watched this bizarre play and seemed satisfied.
“Your state is very good. You’ve completely broken.”
He approached Na-bi and hugged her shoulders. She looked up at him. She did not remember who he was. Doctor? The one who would save her?
“Doctor… when will I go home?”
Na-bi asked habitually. [Retrograde amnesia]. The symptom of forgetting the question just asked and asking it again.
The Hospital Director tapped her nose.
“Soon. Very soon.”
He snatched the bandage from her hand and threw it onto the bed.
“Before that, I need to do one more test.”
“Test…?”
“Yeah. A test to see if you can go outside.”
The Hospital Director laid Na-bi on the bed and injected new medicine into the IV line—[hallucinogen].
“You’ll feel a bit dizzy. But your mood will improve.”
The medicine spread through her blood vessels. Her vision turned red. The ceiling flickered, and the Nurse Mannequins’ faces seemed to distort grotesquely and smile.
“Ah… aaah… it’s hot…”
Her body heated up. Where reason had been paralyzed, instinctive desire surged. Na-bi began groping herself, caressing her breasts and rubbing and twisting her legs.
The Hospital Director watched and took a tool from the cart—a huge [glass dildo], a transparent, thick glass rod with a hollow interior.
“Here, this is your key.”
The Hospital Director lied.
“Put this inside and swallow it all the way down, and you can go out.”
Na-bi’s eyes sparkled. Key. The door out. To her, whose judgment had vanished, the words sounded like salvation.
“Please… give me the key…”
Na-bi reached out. The Hospital Director did not place the dildo in her hand but brought it between her legs.
“You have to put it here. You do it yourself.”
Na-bi, like in a trance, spread her legs. With her own hand she grabbed the dildo and aimed it at her pussy entrance. The wound that had barely been staunched with bandages was at risk of reopening. But she did not stop. She had to go out. This was the key.
-Puk.
Na-bi pushed the dildo in herself. The tearing pain came, but the hallucinogen distorted it into pleasure.
“Ahak! Ah! It’s in! The key is in!”
Na-bi giggled and thrust the dildo. Even though blood spurted and flesh was crushed, she was laughing—a mad laugh, the smile of a completely broken doll.
The Hospital Director recorded the scene and muttered.
“Seventh day. Perfect breeding.”
The Nurse Mannequins crowded around the bed, watching Na-bi masturbate and clapping as if applauding—clap. Clap. Clap.
The plastic clapping sounds filled the hospital room. Na-bi shook her waist to the rhythm, memory, dignity, and soul gone. She had become nothing but meat, moving only according to the Hospital Director’s command.
And so the night of the seventh day sank into the deepest, darkest abyss.