Being Patient
Ó 2023 by Bob2300 (deviantart.com.bob2300)
Edited by Dannysuling (deviantart.com/dannysuling)

Felicia C Grant, known by those immediately around her as “Patient 6713,” was not a happy woman. All things considered, she was a rather an unhappy woman indeed, even though for the most part her ability to demonstrate any of her unhappiness—or convey any feeing or communication whatsoever—had been dramatically curtailed to almost nothing. She had found herself in her current predicament due to a series of unpleasant arguments with her psychiatrist. She had suggested that the two of them start a lesbian affair, by leaning forwards and putting her hand on her patient’s thigh in a most suggestive manner.

 Felicia had not been interested in reciprocating the doctor’s advance. When she arose to leave, the doctor didn’t take the hint. Instead, the woman had tried to pin her down to the couch, kissing her on the lips. Felicia had tried to leave the office at that point, only to have the doctor wrestle her into a sleeper hold, whispering in her ear that she would “take care of her.” The last thing Felicia remembered before waking up during the committal intake was blacking out in the doctor’s embrace, limply squirming as the woman applied pressure to her neck.

 At the intake interview, Felicia discovered that as a result of her rejection her psychiatrist had made a few ‘recommendations’ that were about to dramatically decrease Felicia’s quality of life...for the immediate future. The unwilling patient was enrolled in a most unorthodox and irregular therapy program. She had awakened drugged in the intake room and stark naked. Soon after, she was taken to her own private little cell, packaged in her patient uniform long before she was introduced to her accommodation., a uniform that prevented all sight. If one looked in on her now from one of the high definition CCTV cameras, one would observe a padded cell eight-feet-by-eight-feet at the base, with floor-to-ceiling walls. The floor and the walls were very heavily padded, foot-square panels made of a dense foam. Suspended from the ceiling were various bits of apparatus for the nurses’ use, capable of being lowered so that the patient never had to leave the cell. 

 One would also note that the entire cell was cast in a bright white hue, with a mattress in one corner about five feet long, wedged shaped so that the thicker end acted as a pillow. The mattress made from a cheap sort of memory foam, and was the only concession to comfort in the cell. Lying on the mattress, sleeping away, was the patient. There was a tether attached to one wall allowing the hospital staff to limit the patient’s access to the door opposite the bed. However, since this particular patient could not even stand up, the security measure was a little redundant.

 Even if you knew her in her current state it would be hard for you to recognise her as the woman who had been in the doctor’s office two weeks earlier. Now, though, she would barely be able to recognise herself. Her conditions were harsh, punishing, and showed no sign of letting up.

She wore a tightly-applied, padded, white-leather hood that mercilessly enveloped her head. The hood had been made sadistically tight, and so one could make out the shape of her feminine face, as well as the bulge of a gag that was far to large to be remotely comfortable. But there was not much else to establish the patient’s identity as obviously female.

 The number ‘6713’ was stencilled onto the front of the hood over her forehead in thick black numerals an inch high. If one looked behind her, or rolled her over, one would see that the hood had been wired shut behind her head in a brutal manner. The wire was secured with a crimped metal clip holding the back of the hood shut, and the ends of the wire neatly folded back on themselves. There was a tail of yellow hair flowing out of the top of the hood through a small reinforced hole at the back. It made a very convenient hand-hold for the nurses when they wished to move the new patient around.  

 Unseen under the leather hood was a small ultra-tight rubber hood, sturdy, stifling, and several sizes too small, all of which added to the overwhelming redundancy of the patient’s head restraints. It was very disconcerting and uncomfortable, and contained deep rubber tubes invading Felicia’s sinus cavities, and a tube sticking out of the hood over where her mouth would be.

Inside Felicia’s mouth was a huge, muffling, silicone orb, which absorbed a lot of her protests. Around that gag, filling up the corners of her mouth and cheeks, was a thick sponge, and around that a pair of blue panties pressed against her tongue. The panties had been donated by the nurse who, two weeks ago, had first dressed her up in this bondage rigging. Now, two weeks’ later, she was still sucking her food through the frilly combination of underthing and sponge. Despite being washed so many times in her own saliva, their taste still seemed able to rather persistent in lingering on her tongue. Felicia would have given a thousand dollars for a bottle of mouthwash. But that didn’t seem to be an available option.

 Around her graceful neck was a high, white posture collar. The device made it look like she had a marshmallow or pillow wrapped around her neck. It restricted a lot of movement, but not quite everything: she could convey a tiny bit of expression by nodding and shaking her head a few fractions of a degree. The thing seemed almost like a trauma collar, with two latches at the back.

Below the area of her head and neck, Felicia was wearing subjugating layered restraints that kept her in place as a very well-behaved patient. They included a very sturdy pair of elbow-length leather mittens, brown and lined with a lot of foam. The mittens were so tight she could barely twitch her fingers, emphasizing exactly how helpless she was. Even when the nurses removed the other restraints to bathe her, the hood and the mittens remained in place.

 Over the top of the mittens there were, of course, more strict restraints, including a white Lycra straitjacket. This garment, too, was sized a tiny bit smaller than its occupant, who thus had to be forced quite aggressively into the restraint. There were cut-outs for her breasts. The jacket’s Lycra material was thin but incredibly strong, and reinforced at the armpits, elbows, sleeves, wrists, and waist. The jacket hugged her torso so tightly it was as if it were a second skin. Moreover, it had been strapped up and secured with her arms behind her back, and six solid buckles and straps combined down the back to hold the jacket in place. There were loops to hold her arms in place at the sides and back, and all the straps had been pulled to their very limit. Interestingly, the device had no crotch strap, but since it was not the only layer the lack of that one little strap hardly mattered.

 Over the straitjacket the nurse had added a tight, armless, white Lycra vest, referred to as a ‘strait-waistcoat’ or a ‘transport jacket’. It had been placed over the top of the first jacket and then pulled tight, like a corset. Felicia’s voluptuous breasts pressed against the fabric in a most prominent way. They were quite large and were made all the more conspicuous with her arms pinned tight behind her back. The bases of her breasts had been encircled with thick, tight rubber straps that made them bulge out like two beach balls. In addition, each of the patient’s poor swollen tits came with a nipple clamp gripping the protruding tip, which could easily be detected through the vest’s Lycra material. There was still plenty of nipple poking up against the sheet of Lycra for roaming hands to explore.

 When Felicia awakened, she had a brief panic attack, fighting against her bonds. Just as she did every morning when she was disturbed, she tried to wiggle out of her restraints, to get the cursed jacket off, to wiggle it over her head. But the bottom was latched onto a chastity belt at four places, and she could never exert enough force to free herself. The belt ran from front to back and around her small waist, made from stainless steel, and powder coated in white. Its inside surface around her waist was rubber-lined for comfort.
 
 At the back the belt had a large ring, perhaps three-and-a-half...maybe four inches...wide wedged tight between her buttocks, holding them open and spread. This enabled a large plug to be shoved through the gap, completely sealing her up when it was appropriately adjusted. Currently, it had been fully inflated, locking it in the ring. To Felicia, it felt like she had an inflated balloon jammed into her ass. Every time she shifted the horrible thing felt bigger, and that rubber-coated ring that was part of the crotch plate acted like a speculum between the globes of her ass, forcibly maintaining her sphincter wide apart and making her rectum and bowel easily accessible for her therapy.

 To access Felicia’s pussy, the nurse was required to insert a security key to remove the outer front shield of the chastity belt. But that didn’t make the situation much better for the patient. She was denied any arousal, since along with the belt there was a punishingly tight clitoral clamp, a pair of labia clamps, and a fully deployed punishment mesh installed inside her vaginal canal. If the little set of sensors in the belt pressed against her vagina detected even the least hint of arousal, the mesh gave the inside of her vaginal walls a little jolt of electricity to calm her down. She was definitely not getting any enjoyment from the restraints confining her crotch.

The belt also kept everything sanitary with a built-in catheter. All the nurse needed to do to let Felicia urinate was remove the outer shield from the white powder-coated belt to get to the tube and open the valve,.

 Poor Felicia, Patient No. 6713, didn’t even get to stretch her legs, which were confined in one position in a tight Lycra sheath. That hobble was joined onto the waist of the chastity belt with straps, like suspenders. There were deep U-shaped cut-outs front and rear, exposing her crotch and ass and giving access to her body. The Lycra was reinforced with straps gripping her legs at mid-thigh as well as above and below her knees. There were thick cuffs at her ankles that had not an inch of gap between them. From those cuffs the leg sheath attached to toe cuffs and a strap under the arches of both her feet. Felicia couldn’t get her legs free; she couldn’t even pull her big toes away from one another. She was not given enough slack to stand up.

 As a redundant security feature, a cable attached to the back of the straitjacket’s collar was pulling the patient back to the far corner of the room, just as it was designed to be before every entry of the nurse into the cell. Felicia fought it pathetically as she was dragged off the relatively comfortable mattress. There was a series of clicks, a panel pulled back, and the cell door then opened, allowing the nurse to observe her prey. The uniformed woman stalked over, quickly checked and tightened the restraints encasing the patient, as she routinely did each morning. There was not one bit of slack on anything. After the patient was bathed there was sometimes a little slack, but the nurse’s morning routine ensured it was gone the next day. Felicia remained encased in strict, tight bonds that she couldn’t effectively fight against.

 This day the nurse had something hanging from her neck. It was a remote that both gave her access to the cell and allowed her to use the features in it. An apparatus lowered from ceiling with a soft mechanical whir. Felicia knew the routine, and so she identified what the sound meant. Every day she was force-fed via her gag, so that there was no need to take hood off. A pipe was connected to the front of the hood, locked into place so that she couldn’t accidentally pull the line out. She was swiftly force-fed something like soup mixed with vitamins and fibre. She could just about suck it through the gag without choking. Meanwhile, the nurse took the opportunity to check Felicia’s large, exposed breasts while she was being fed by the machine. As soon as the force-feeding was done, the machine beeped and the nurse unhooked the pipe.

The next item on the agenda was the first round of tickle therapy for the day, applied to Felicia’s feet. The patient tried to pull back, but the nurse was already prepared and easily snagged her ankle cuffs, elevated her feet, then started to tickle the poor woman. Felicia could barely resist the sensation, and after a few seconds she began to become hysterical under the hood, maniacally laughing into her gag. She wiggled about like a worm on a hook or a fish on a line, her feet trying to avoid the assault, to no avail. The patient’s legs were trying to pull out of the hobble skirt but were not achieving any locomotion. With her toes cuffed together and the strap under the arches of her feet, there was no way for her to avoid the attacks.

The tickle therapy lasted for a good twenty minutes, causing the patient quite a lot of distress, but it was only the beginning of her ordeal. The nurse let go of her feet, dropping her to the floor as a whimpering bundle who lay panting, glad that for a moment she had some reprieve. But presently the nurse unlocked the front plate to Felicia’s chastity belt, then eased out and lowered the bladder’s drain line. A moment later, Felicia experienced an immense sense of relief as she was allowed to relieve her bladder through catheter. Unfortunately for her, however, the nurse then checked that her patient’s pussy was still tightly clamped at the labia and clitoris, and uncomfortable with the expanded punishment mesh cylinder inside it. The woman used her fingernail to check how tightly her patient’s pussy and labia were clamped, causing her poor patient to squirm the clamped flesh felt just the edge of fingernail explore the bondage. Felicia moaned into her gag! She needed to climax; all the teasing was too much. Given the incredible tension of being stimulated but not ever able to orgasm, she actually felt a little relief as the plate went back on.

 Felicia was rolled over onto her tummy. The nurse tightly connected a thick, heavy-duty pipe to the base of her butt-plug. Usually, three rounds of enemas were administered to properly clean her out. She absolutely hated it, but couldn’t do anything about it bound this tightly. The first enema was hot and soapy, that slithered deep into her guts. It was left to percolate for fifteen minutes, leaving her squirming about as the nurse watched. Patient Number 6713’s bowel was soon cramping fiercely from the pressure, and the jacket bulged around her tummy. Felicia was intensely relieved when the enema was sucked out through the hose.

 One down, two more to go. She was flushed clean with a second enema: no soap, just clean water, chilled very cold. The volume of liquid was less than the first enema, and she was not required to retain it as long either. Nonetheless, its effects were still rather brutal to her body. If the gag hadn’t been in her mouth she would have heard her teeth chattering from the cold until the fluid was allowed to flow out of her.

Two down, one to go. The third round enema consisted of clean warm water, not so hot as to be uncomfortable and not anywhere near as much volume as the second or the third flushing. Felicia was relived as the hose was eventually disconnected, the plug deflated and removed.

 Felicia’s abused and stretched rear opening futilely tried to close on the ring partially embedded between her buttocks wedged into her anus. Keeping it stretched wide. She had to wonder whether, even if they let her go, she would be forced to wear some sort of plug up her ass for the rest of her life, to prevent involuntary leaking through her permanently stretched asshole? At the very least, though, her rectum was for the moment now empty of the inflated rubber dildo that otherwise fully occupied the canal. If she allowed herself to think about it, she would have registered the constant dull pain in her abused ass from the ring embedded between her buttocks. It had been a terrible and painful struggle to fit it into her asshole the first time that she was put in the belt. But now it ‘s constant presence felt almost familiar, as if it had always been there. That was a disturbing thought, was Felicia getting used to this sadistic bondage and demeaning captivity?

 The nurse then gave Felicia her first course of treatment for the day. In order to administer it, the nurse stripped down to her underwear, then prepared the implement of therapy from her supplies. Although there were many unusual therapeutic tools within the institute, this one took the biscuit: a ten-inch-long, ribbed, rubber strap-on designed to occupy the patient’s rectum, with six inches of more reasonably proportioned fun designed to sit pleasurably in the nurse’s more-than-willing pussy. It was soon well-lubricated, and the nurse didn’t hesitate in putting the rubber column to work, flipping her charge on her side, and embedding the enormous dildo in her patient’s juicy ass!

 Now, Felicia was not a fan of this daily treatment, and immediately began straining against her tight Lycra prison. Muffled screams flowed into her layered gag, with very little actually emerging past the device. She was twisting her head against the collar on her neck, and straining desperately to free her arms, wiggling her hips to try and escape her impalement. Felicia flexed her legs as much as she could, wiggling her feet, desperate to gain enough purchase that would allow her some reprieve from the implement invading her beleaguered backside.

It was a rough angle to begin with. The poor patient felt as if maybe the nurse was trying to wedge the sex toy into her stretched ass sideways. Suddenly she experienced a firm thrust of the nurse’s hips and a twist. This resulted in a change of angle, making it far easier on the patient. Suddenly she was biting down on her gag from a combination of pain and pleasure, both agony and ecstasy, as she was brutally taken. But as Felicia became aroused the mesh in her pussy sparked agonizingly to life, killing her desire.

The poor patient shook her head in frustration, straining her muscles. She knew that if she could just get the chance she would kick the nurse but of course her care team were quite wise to her. It was all completely useless, as the nurse controlled the patient’s body.

A moment later, Felicia’s knees were brought up to her shoulders, held firmly in this position by the nurse. She tried to unfold herself, but the nurse got a good grip and hugged the bound, compressed legs even tighter. The woman proceeded to administer a good two-hour session of slow, penetrative, corrective treatment. Felicia remained on her side, as the medical practitioner continued slowly thrusting the ‘therapy implement’ in and out of her punished rectum, all the while caressing her patient’s body. Every fifteen to twenty minutes, the nurse would accelerate the rhythmic pounding, as she herself would be close to orgasming. She would set a frenetic pace, hammering her patient, then cease panting, enjoying the feeling of her own climax washing over her. All told, the nurse enjoyed six orgasms throughout the therapy session, while her patient received only a very sore rectum, a burning asshole, and intense sexual frustration.

Afterwards, Felicia’s bottom was given a light spanking. It was humiliating, but there was nothing she could do about it.

 Felicia was also given her regular mid-day meal trough her gag, and then she had yet another extended therapy session. This time she was taken with a ten-and-a-half-inch-long model, slightly thicker, and with a different pattern of ridges to tickle her rectal sheathe with. And the nurse who treated Patient Number 6713 was different as well, with a decidedly different preference. The patient was pinned face down, and the treatment session for two hours. Of course, the first session had taken some of the spark out of Felicia, but still she struggled and wiggled, unable to get away from the assault. This particular nurse liked to pull on her patient’s hair as she applied the stiff rigid ‘medicine’ deep into her victim’s bowels. Felicia hated having her hair pulled like this, forcing her head back and arching her spine. Her protests into the gag didn’t elicit any sympathy from the nurse, either. Instead, the woman thought the muffled vocalizations were ‘cute’ as her patient wiggled against the extremely tight restraints.

 Felicia really hated the fact that the nurse got to enjoy a nice screaming orgasm at her expense and humiliation, while she got zapped repeatedly in her pussy for daring to become moist at her predicament. It was so frustrating to be wrapped up tight like this. She could dimly feel the strap-on generating stimulation throughout her flesh, putting pressure on her clit through the thin membranes that separated her vagina from her rectum. She could feel the stimulation even with the clamp gripping her clit so tightly. Felicia wanted to be allowed to climax at least once while she was forcibly kept in this horrible predicament.

 Finally the nurse pulled the strap-on out of Felicia’s sore, helpless asshole, replaced by the retention plug which was then only partially inflated, a very small mercy. Patient Number 6713 was rolled, still fully restrained, onto her mattress and left to recuperate. And despite her burning back passage, Felicia actually drifted off to sleep....

...She was awakened when it was time for her afternoon treatment session. She was folded back in place, her plug deflated and eased out. She then received two additional hours of ‘therapy’, this time with an eleven-inch-long, flexible silicone model, while her feet were simultaneously tickled. Felicia really hated this, as she was trying to scream and laugh into her gag at the same time. She lost track of time under the assault, which seemed paradoxically to feel like it lasted for days and yet also only a few minutes. It was disconcerting how being trapped under the claustrophobic hood affected her perception of the passage of time.

 Felicia had one more thing to endure before she would be left for the evening to rest and recuperate. She was given her evening meal force-fed through the gag. She did not at all enjoy the ‘cuisine’, and would have given her meals a poor review if given the chance. After her meal, her bowels were flushed out again, but this time the nurse kept filling her up until her belly was bulging against the spandex and she was violently squirming about against her restraints. Felicia heard her captor giggle, apparently finding the administration of such an enormous enema quite humorous. For a second, she thought that the nurse would leave her like that all night, but thankfully the huge purge was entirely drained away, allowing her to drift off to sleep....

 ...Patient Number 6713 was awakened in the middle of the night by a nurse, who couldn’t sleep, and who wanted to give her some extra therapy. The bound captive was alerted by the sound of the door opening. There was the clatter of rubber as something unknown hit the floor, then a bottle as well. She heard clothes softly dropping to the floor as well, and then a long, deep, female moan of a woman adjusting her strap-on so that it penetrated her own slippery, welcoming vagina. The nurse kissed Felicia over her gag, an the unseen woman’s hands began fondling her large exposed breasts, then her backside, until finally she was rolled over onto her front.

 Felicia felt the plug wedged up her ass being deflated and pulled out, none to gently. This time the nurse had not bothered to use a lot of lube. Instead, she suddenly wrapped herself around her patient like a python. Felicia bucked and squirmed but couldn’t get away, as her rectum was deeply filled with what felt like a rubber enema, with  the nurses immense chosen strap-on.

There was a brief struggle to get the strap-on past the ring wedged in her sphincter. The phallus felt a lot larger than the last one that had been attached for her afternoon therapy session. But the nurse was skilled at this, and she began to push quite forcibly until the strap-on sunk all the way through the patient’s stretched sphincter and high up into the helpless waiting rectum. She shifted her hips to slowly ease it partially out, only to ram it back in.

The nurse was gasping and moaning, and Felicia by comparison was screaming a litany of obscenities into her gag as the assault continued. She tried to buck off the woman straddling her body, but that only seemed to encourage her assailant to be even more aggressive and to thrust the strap-on deeper, far deeper, penetrating the entire length of the rectal canal being so forcibly raped.

 Eventually the nurse went to sleep, cradling her patient, the ridged strap-on embedded deep in the bound woman’s  ass. Over the next couple of hours the terribly uncomfortable woman wiggled too much, thus waking up the nurse, who decided that her patient must want more ‘therapy’, and duly obliged her. The nurse’s legs scissored around her, one hand clamped around Felicia’s hair, her head back violently. The nurse’s other hand began to fondle her crushed breasts, twisting the nipple clamps through the tight spandex garment. Felicia could feel the sadistic nurse moving faster and faster, the humongous strap-on reaming her deeper and deeper, the nurse quickly approaching yet one more orgasm. And then the woman did climax, jamming the strap-on as deep as it could go, the tip actually brushing the muscle that graced the entrance to the confines of her bowels!

Finally content, her itch satisfactorily scratched, the nurse purred with contentment, then began to drift back to sleep. The strap-on was left to fully occupy her victim’s rectum, filling it, stretching it...owning it!

 Felicia was not happy that she had six more months of this before her treatment program would end. On the other hand, she knew with great certainty that, once she was released, she would be a hell of a lot more receptive to her doctor’s advances. There was no way she wished to another six-month round of corrective therapy!