#medicalkink — Public Fediverse posts

You didn't sleep well that night; waking up repeatedly, you lay there while the sclerosing agent ate away at your testicular tissue from the inside. The next morning you felt deflated; you weren't sure whether the pain in your testicles had subsided, whether you'd simply got used to it, or whether you were just too exhausted from the night to feel it anymore. Number 403 was preparing breakfast on the terrace today; you weren't much help with that. You waited patiently for Ben to take his seat. When you stepped up to the table to serve him some fruit, he let his hand glide over your buttocks first and then tenderly cupped your swollen nuts. "Just as a good gardener must always pull out all the weeds by the roots, I have pulled you out of the rotten prison and its breeding ground for crime and violence." He said this gently and kindly, whilst stroking your aching scrotum.

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Your guardian seemed to recognise this treatment, and Doctor Vermeulen reminded him that the brain implant firm had helped to rescue the biotech manufacturer of the medication some time ago. Ben apparently remembered, and he viewed the cooperation between the two companies positively. Dr Vermeulen had also attended a special training course where the drug had been covered. That put your mind at ease. Although your brain implant was still controlling your thoughts, you managed to ask about side effects. The doctor explained sympathetically that swelling, a sensation of heat or itching might well occur at the injection site for two or three days. Otherwise, he assured you, not much would change for someone in your situation. He quickly handed you a few pages of the usual medical documents. You tried to read them, but couldn't concentrate. After a while, you gave up, signed them, and handed them back. Dr Vermeulen smiled gently and drew up two syringes.

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Doctor Vermeulen welcomed you into his consulting room. His firm handshake and friendly manner exuded exactly the kind of reliability that physicians convey to their patients. You didn't even know why you were actually there. Doctor Vermeulen clarified that he was commissioned by the implant company, as an independent doctor, to regularly monitor the health and safety of the volunteer trial participants and to ensure that the devices were functioning correctly. The prisoners, he explained, were released from the programme when ready and capable to be members of society again. Benjamin Stavinsky silently sat beside him.

Your pulse and blood pressure were taken. Dr Vermeulen examined the spot where the device had been implanted in your skull. You had to take off your shirt and he examined your upper body, under the watchful gaze of Mr Stavinsky. He said he could see a bruise on your hip and asked you where it had come from. You weren't quite sure either.

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“Fusion”

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