Adam turned his head towards Ian, his attention finally shifting back to the present moment. "Hm? sorry, did you say something?" Adam responded, his voice sounding somewhat distant.
“Are you... worried about Zack?” Ian asked.
“Huh?” Adam paused for a moment. His brows furrowed, as if trying to process Ian's question, and a hint of confusion flashed across his features. He then averted his eyes, staring at the floor for a moment before finally responding, "He will be fine," his voice carrying a subtle note of reassurance, though it seemed as if he was trying to convince himself as well.
Ian settled himself on a nearby couch, sinking into the cushion and allowing his gaze to wander towards the ceiling. "Is Zack in trouble?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.
Adam, still lost in contemplation, responded with a hesitant tone. "I don't know," he admitted. Trying to find solace, he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, attempting to relax. "Don't let it bother you, Ian. I'm sure he's fine," Adam reassured, although his tone seemed to betray his own doubts.
Ian's gaze shifted towards the table where beverages and snacks were laid out. His thirst piqued, he rose from the couch and reached for a bottle of water. Grabbing two bottles of water, he turned to Adam, offering one to him with a small smile. Adam's face brightened as he accepted the water, and the cool liquid provided some relief, easing the residual tension that lingered inside of them.
Just as they began to settle into a moment of calm, the door swung open once again, revealing the presence of the male doctor. "Amber, follow me," he ordered with a stern tone.
Ian's eyes widened with concern as he looked at Adam. Only me?
Adam, sensing Ian's worry, returned his gaze with a reassuring smile and a nod, silently communicating that everything would be okay.
Ian obediently followed the middle-aged doctor into a well-lit room, his eyes immediately drawn to the figure of an older male doctor seated behind a desk next to the room’s door, focused on a computer screen. The room's centerpiece was a remarkable examination chamber, resembling a sleek, transparent glass capsule. Inside, adjustable straps awaited, strategically positioned. Intriguingly, a network of cables extended from the chamber, culminating in electrodes discreetly placed to monitor the individual's vital signs.
The glass chamber exuded an air of advanced technology. Outside of it, a vibrant screen seamlessly integrated with the structure, emanating a soft glow. The screen's display captivated Ian's attention, unveiling an array of intricate graphs, precise charts, and concise summaries, all forming a comprehensive report of the person's anatomy. It seemed as though the machine possessed a profound understanding of the human body, processing data in real-time and providing instant analysis and feedback.
Placing a report file onto the desk, the middle-aged doctor's voice carried a sense of urgency, "He wants a thorough and expedited examination." With those words, the doctor promptly exited the room, leaving Ian alone with the older male doctor.
A heavy sigh escaped the doctor's lips as he glanced at the contents of the file, his frustration evident. He looked up and his gaze fixated on Ian, who stood near the room's entrance, studying him intently as if dissecting the young boy's appearance with his eyes. It felt as if the doctor's gaze traveled up and down Ian's form, assessing him without uttering a word.
Why is he staring at me like that? An uncomfortable sensation crept over Ian, prompting him to avert his eyes and unconsciously rub his arm, seeking a distraction from the doctor's unwavering stare.
The doctor, appearing to be in his late fifties or early sixties, rose from his chair. His round figure suggested a lack of physical activity, and a pair of glasses perched upon his nose. A distinct bald spot adorned the top of his head, glistening under the room's bright lights. He walked purposefully towards the standing machine. Opening the glass door, he deftly moved the straps aside and connected various cables and wires. Turning towards Ian, his voice carried a commanding tone, "Strip down and enter the machine."
Ian's face registered a mixture of surprise and confusion as he locked eyes with the doctor. It took a moment for the order to sink in, and Ian hesitated, unsure of how to react.
A touch of impatience tinged the doctor's tone "Did you not hear me, boy?" the doctor repeated, his voice brooking no further hesitation. "Remove your gown and step inside."
I don’t like this. Ian's brows furrowed in displeasure at the doctor's demand, but he knew he had no choice but to comply. Reluctantly, he removed his gown, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over him. His hand instinctively covered his private parts, as he approached the intimidating machine. The doctor motioned with a slight nod for Ian to step inside.
Ian cautiously entered the machine, feeling the support of the firm cushioning against his back. As he positioned himself, the doctor began securing the straps, starting from Ian's feet and working his way up to his head. Each strap tightened, constricting his movement and leaving him with a sense of confinement and powerlessness.
To Ian's discomfort and growing unease, the doctor's touch seemed to linger longer than necessary, carrying a suggestive undertone that sent a chill down his spine. The doctor's hands moved deliberately, almost caressing Ian's body as he adjusted and secured each strap.
Ian clenched his teeth, his frown deepened as discomfort and frustration grew more within him. This fucking perverted geezer! The combination of the doctor's invasive touch and the restricted environment made Ian feel increasingly vulnerable.
With the straps in place, the doctor proceeded to attach the electrodes to their designated spots on Ian's body. As the cool metal touched his skin, a sense of intrusion washed over him, adding to his growing unease. Damn it! I don’t like this at all. Ian squeezed his eyes shut, desperately attempting to regain control over his racing emotions.
Then, holding a cable in his hand, the doctor approached the collar around Ian's neck, delicately inserting the cable and connecting it to the collar. To add to Ian’s discomfort, the doctor placed an oxygen mask, obscuring his breathing and further limiting his sense of control.
Once everything was in place, the doctor stepped out of the machine, leaving Ian alone inside. With a sigh of relief, Ian felt a small sense of liberation as the doctor's presence retreated from the enclosed space. The doctor closed the glass door, sealing Ian within the confines of the examination chamber.
The machine smoothly adjusted its position, tilting slightly to offer Ian a relatively more comfortable lying posture within its confined space. As the flickering lights danced around the chamber, and the low hum of processing sounds filled the air, Ian's stress heightened. He felt the weight of the restraints pressing against his body, restricting his movement and amplifying his sense of confinement.
I feel suffocated, how long will this take? Frustration gnawed at him as he attempted to move his limbs, only to be met with the unyielding resistance of the restraining straps. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Shit, I need to calm down. Realizing that panic would only worsen the situation, Ian took a deliberate breath, attempting to calm his racing heart.
The passage of time became elusive, minutes blending into an indeterminate stretch. Every second felt like an eternity, intensifying Ian's restlessness and fraying his nerves. The flickering lights, casting intermittent shadows, seemed to play tricks on his mind, exacerbating his unease.
Clutching his fists tightly, Ian repeated a mantra to himself, desperately seeking reassurance. It will end soon. I can do this.
As Ian focused on his deep breaths, the doctor's voice resonated within the machine, capturing his attention. "Can you hear me, boy?" the doctor's commanding voice echoed through the chamber.
Ian strained against the straps, attempting to nod in response, but the firm restraints hindered his movement. Realizing he couldn't convey his answer nonverbally, he mustered a response from beneath the oxygen mask, his voice muffled and constrained. "Yes..." he managed to utter, the word barely audible.
"I will ask you a series of questions, and I expect brief responses," the doctor stated, seemingly indifferent to Ian's escalating panic, evident in his vitals readings.
The doctor referred to his file before posing the first question. "Are you experiencing any discomfort or pain during physical activities or while at rest?" he inquired, his tone detached.
Ian's frown deepened as he mustered a controlled response, concealing his true feelings. "No," he replied, his frustration simmering beneath his words. I’m feeling discomfort right now, you old geezer!
The doctor scribbled some notes on the file before proceeding to the next question. "Have you noticed any changes in your body, such as growth spurts, muscle development, or alterations in your voice?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on Ian.
Ian's eyebrows furrowed in frustration. How would I know? I don’t think I’ve noticed anything since I woke up anyways. With a hint of annoyance, he replied, “No.”
"Moving on to the last question," the doctor's voice echoed within the machine, his gaze fixed on Ian. "Are you sexually active?"
The unexpected inquiry hit Ian like a bolt of confusion. leaving Ian's mind racing with spiral of questions. Sexually active? The question lingered in his head. Does he mean having sex? Why is he asking this kind of question? Is he stupid? Can he not see I’m 13?
Before Ian could gather his thoughts and respond, the doctor seemed to sense his confusion. He attempted to clarify his question. "Let me rephrase this for you," he said, his gaze unwavering. "Are you engaging in self-relief through masturbation?"
Embarrassment flooded over Ian, his face turning red. "N-no," he stammered, his frown deepening. Memories of the invasive cameras in his own room and bathroom rushed to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of the lack of privacy he had even in his own personal spaces. How could I? When there’s no privacy in my own bathroom!
The doctor concluded his notes and closed the file, his expression inscrutable. Without uttering a word, he approached the machine, his hands swiftly navigating the control panel. As the buttons were pressed, a sense of haze enveloped Ian's mind, causing his vision to blur and sounds to fade into a distant murmur. Panic surged within him as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. I feel dizzy, what did he do?
Ian's senses became dull, like a waking dream. The weight of his own body felt intensified. The doctor's movements appearing ethereal and disconnected. The heaviness in his body was reminiscent of a sedative's effects, slowing his thoughts and impairing his coordination. Although Ian fought against the encroaching haziness, his struggle seemed futile as the mysterious sensation engulfed him, leaving him floating in a twilight realm between consciousness and slumber.
Comments (2)
See all