Hospital House - Part 3 (Patreon)

But my ordeal was not over yet.

I was keenly aware that the nurse had put the nozzle inside of me. The same one they had used on the man on the other side of the room. I didn’t know what was happening to me or why it was happening to me, but if the man on the other side of the room was any indication, I didn’t have long to wait.

The first indication that things were about to get rough was the cramping in my stomach.

I felt almost woozy and lightheaded while my abdomen felt full, bloated and tight.

I strained at the restraints, quickly realizing my vision was blurry because of the tears running down my face. My shoulders heaved and twisted as I tried to get free. I needed a restroom. Tied up like this, all I wanted to do was double over and expel the liquid that was inside of me.

But I was stuck flat on the bed. Trapped in this nightmare.

My abdomen rolled again in intense pain. It was as if everything inside of me was pushing towards my bottom. I felt this burning sensation as my stomach churned and splashed around. I squeezed hard trying to avoid the inevitable. I remembered the man across from me, how he just wailed when the nurse and her team administered this treatment.

What made this worse, was that each time I moved, I heard the rustle of plastic, the crinkle of the very thing that was waiting, thirsty to receive what was inside of me.

I began to yell at this point.

I demanded that someone come and rescue me from this predicament.

The room was still empty, no one was reaching out from the darkness to help.

No one cared.

For a moment, I wondered what Casey was doing. Probably in his room getting a goodnight’s sleep. Meanwhile, I was stuck in this ratty old bed, about to face my fate.

I felt my stomach constrict again as I tried to steady my breathing.

For a second, I had a moment of clarity. A slight moment where I felt that if I could just stay here, in this moment, then I’d be able to escape what was about to happen.

Suddenly, the burning sensation within me gave way to a giant cramp.

I gasped and my muscles seemed to tense and relax at the same time.

The next thing I knew, I felt a rush of liquid force itself into the waiting diaper.

Lying on my back the mess started soft and then lumps of harder, firmer mess pushed itself out. I cried out as another cramp hit and I was forced to mess again. I tried to clamp down, but it was a lost cause. It was as if my bowels had decided they were giving up for good.

The mess felt mushy and wet against my backside. It felt weird knowing that I had just released my bowels, but at the same time, I had not left a mess on the bed. Instead, inside the cloth folds of terrycloth and padding, my mess clung to my body, stuck to me, reminding me of my infantile act.

As I watched, cried out in anguish, I snuck a peak towards the diaper that was laying tightly against my midsection. I expected the mess to have been leaking thought the corners of cloth diaper, but looking through the plastic pants onto the cloth diaper below, there was no sign that anything disasterous had occurred. Instead the diaper began to swell, discolored and full to accommodate my deeds.

Because I was on my back, the back of the diaper was soiled first. As I continued to push in protest, the mess pushed itself towards the front of the diaper, mashing itself up against my freshly shaved, oiled and powdered genitals.

This process of pushing, gasping, relaxing and sobbing happened over and over again. I was shocked at the amount of mess that was coming up of me. It felt like there was an infinite amount of substance inside of me and now, that there was a spare moment, all of it was going to come out.

And the diaper seemed designed to take it all.

And then suddenly, as quickly as it started, all movment stopped.

There was just silence in the room.

I meekly looked around and, excused, gave a lame attempt at trying to free myself.

I felt the mess in the diaper shift under me as I moved.

It was too much.

I began to cry.

But only silence greeted my shame.

Cold, dark silence.

***

I’m not sure how long it took me to cry myself hoarse, but at some point I must have drifted off because I felt my stomach give a giant cramp and a light tapping on my shoulder.

My eyes bolted open and I tried to sit up. Only, I was still tied to the bed.

I felt the mess before I heard the crinkle.

As I watched, the old, elder man from before was standing near my bed, one withered hand on my shoulder. Strangely, after the ordeal I had just been through, the hand (while all bones and tattered flesh) was strangely comforting.

I tried to recoil, but the straps kept me from moving. He really did look like he was in bad shape.

“Are you okay?” The old man rasped, his face shrouded in darkness.

I was too weak to respond accurately. But my ordeal finally came flooding back to me. The nurse, the plastic pants, the diaper, the… enema. I signed and shook my head. “Please,” I said slowly, swallowing hard. “You have to help me get out of here.”

The old man stared at me. “I told you to stay quiet.”

I shook my head. “Please,” I said pulling the restraints. “She’s gone and I just want to go home.”

The old man stared mournfully in my direction and then nodded.

“I can help you, but you have to wait until after rounds.” The old man kept glancing back down the dark hall as if he expected the nurse to arrive at any moment.

“Rounds?”

“Yes, they always come back to check on the patients.”

The eyes bulged out of my head fora second. There was no way I was waiting until rounds to try and escape. I squirmed and grimaced at the diapers heft and fullness. There had to be another way.

I considered my situation for a moment. This old man clearly was afraid of the nurse and wasn’t going to do anything to undermine her. I could use this to my advantage.

“Um… excuse me.” I said. “Would it be possible to get some water?”

The man nodded. “Absolutely, it’s critical that you drink water during and after your treatment.”

The man pulled from under a bed a yellowing plastic container with a straw inside of it. He proceeded to give the plastic a study shake and hand it to me.

Ignoring the fact that this was completely disgusting and no doubt had mold and other contaminants in it, I reached for the plastic jug. Only, because of the restraints, I couldn’t grab it.

I gave a weak smile, “Do you think you could let me sit up so I could drink?”

The old man nodded. “Good point.” He looked embarrassed, even wtihout the bones and muscle tissue to display it. “Give me a second.”

As I watched, the old man proceed to unstrap my shoulders and arms. He helped me slide up and angled the bed upwards. I gave him a weak smile and accepted the moldy jug of water from the man.

I smiled and the man looked at me expectantly. “Aren’t you going to…”

I nodded and pursed my lips. Slowly I brought the jug to my mouth and put my lips against the straw and pretended to suck.

“Mhmm,” I said grimacing as my nose took in the scent of decades worth of cobwebs and bad smells.

The man smiled. “Great. I’ll leave you alone for a bit. Don’t forget, you need to be still and quiet. Convince -“

“The nurse that I’m not sick.” I nodded. “Roger, roger.”

“It’s Malone.” The man said.

“Excuse me?”

“My name, it’s not Roger, it’s Malone.”

“Oh,” I chucked for a moment. “Thank you Malone.” I didn’t feel like explaining myself.

***

The moment Malone left the wing, I got to work. I tossed the water jug on the floor and used my newfound freedom to remove the straps from my legs. Testing my bonds for a moment, I slowly rolled over to the other side of the bed, grimacing in the process. Each time I moved, the mess sloshed and moved along with me. The squelching and crinkling combined reminded me how much of a baby I felt in this moment.

I kept getting flashes of the man from the other side of the room. Flashes of the horror that he had demonstrated that was now consuming me as well.

Understanding that time was of the essence, I stood up and took a few steps. My body felt unsteady. But the strangest sensation of all was the mass between my legs. Because of the bulk of the cloth diaper, the mess seemed to move downwards, between my legs and begin to hang there from behind. Each step I took was an odd sensation, it was as if the diaper was hugging my bottom as I waked, whispering to me that I had committed this sinful deed.

I felt another cramp roll through my body, no doubt the remnants of the enema still attacking my bowels. I quickly grabbed the edge of the bed and felt a runny stool run into the diaper.

I began to wonder if there was still room back there.

For a moment, I considered taking off the diaper, but one glance at the chain that was around my waist told me that would be impossible and I couldn’t waste time trying to destroy this lock. Instead I began to waddle my way down the hospital halls in an attempt to find an exit.

Each step I took, my legs and feet were cold. But my midsection was warm. My bare chest was cold. It was weird to be waddling down the halls like this. Soon, I caught my stride and my waddle turned into a quicker pace, one that gave me hope I could make it back to the front room before rounds started.

Every so often, I had to stop and recon with my bowels that seemed to be hyperactive after the ordeal from this morning. But I was determined.

Soon, I saw a sign that said, “Residence,” and moved towards it. This was it. The exit I was looking for. I looked around and shoved open the door.

For a moment, I thought I had bumped my head on something and was now seeing things. But I shook my head from side to side in confusion. In front of me was a giant greying room that might have long ago been filled head to toe with white carpeting and soft white curtains. A soft, off key melody that at one point was filled with joy and happiness, but now was nothing but an echo of it’s former self echoes throughout the room. But what was most shocking was that inside the room, in neat rows were about 10 cribs, larger than they should have been, each with tattered and ratty mobiles spinning around them keeping watch over thier occupants.

From the cribs were moans.

I crept up slowly towards the first crib, scared to see what inside. I leaned over the edge and gasped. Looking up at me was a young man, no older than I was. He wore a tee shirt that barely came down to his belly button that had baby blocks on it that spelled out the word “B-A-B-Y” over and over. Wrapped around his groin was a bulging thick diaper that crinkled as the man moved his legs. He looked up at me, the pacifier tightly in his lips and a bonnet wrapped around his head and gave a muffled cry. As I watched the man struggled and a foul smell filled the air. No doubt this college student in the crib had just soiled himself.

I took a step back in shock and realized that every single crib in the room was filled with someone in the same predicament… only by the time I got to the last crib, it was empty.

The voice came from inside me and every at once. It felt like ice in my hears and squeezed the very air out of my body. “I see you’ve found what we do for our long term patients.” Nurse Motina said.

I jumped as cold hands grabbed my shoulder and pulled me backwards, dragging me out of the room. I kicked and struggled as they pulled me back down the hall, no doubt to inflict more humiliation upon me, all in the name of doing good.

As the doors closed and I was strapped back into the moldy, soiled mattress, I cried.

In the corner, I saw Malone, wringing his hands over and over looking sadly in my direction.

His eyes, while hollow and empty said it all without saying a single world.

I warned you.

I struggled.

I screamed.

But this time, I wasn’t going to cry.