World Gone Mad ((LitShark & zydrate))

[LitShark]

“I’ll kill you, you sonofabitch! Kill you! You and everyone like you, you lunatic! Psycho! Sociopath! Let—me—go!”

“Now, now, Jim. That’s no way to talk to your doctor, is it? I’m only trying to help you.” Dr. Napier said calmly from his place near the door, “I was hoping you might be ready to have a frank and civil discussion about why you’re here and what you can do to leave, but I see that you’re in no condition to participate in anything frank or civil… tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“Damnit, you maniac! Let me go! I don’t belong here! I’m not crazy! You’re fucking crazy!” Jim had descended into finger pointing which Dr. Napier recognized from previous sessions with him—a tediously common delusion for the mentally deranged, everyone else is crazy, only they are sane—the “world gone mad,” delusion as Dr. Napier had taken to calling it.

“Well, I can see that you’re still a long way from being ready to rejoin the general population. Hopefully another week of isolation will help you to remember your manners.” Dr. Napier stepped back from inside the padded cell and pushed the door shut, “another week, no visitors.” He told the guard as he left the Isolation Ward.

Jim was a tough case, classic narcissistic self-righteousness, mixed with a utopian delusion of how things “ought to be,” all bound up in a borderline psychotic case of… of… Oedipal—no, not that, reverse Oedipus? No, what was it… Munchausen by Proxy—no… The one where he wants to fuck his daughter—Lolita! Lolita syndrome. Dr. J wrote the word “Lolita” seven times in the cluster of misaligned pages that was Dr. J’s file on Jim Gordon. While he was thinking about Jim’s crippling Lolita fantasy, Dr. Napier decided to give young Barbara a visit. She was scheduled for shock therapy today, and he never got tired of watching the pretty young thing bucking around in her restraints—Dr. Napier chuckled at the thought and began sketching a picture of Barbara riding a cock with bolts of electricity shooting out of her.

Before he made it to the shock therapy room, Dr. Isley intercepted him, stepping abruptly into his path.

“Damnit, Pam! You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, I’ve got childhood trauma, woman.” at this Jack found himself laughing out loud, he covered his mouth with Jim’s file, but there was no disguising the sound, “He-he-he-heh…”

“Spare me the sideshow, clown. Before you go jerk yourself off over Barbara’s treatment, I want an update. Is her father showing any signs of improvement? His wife is becoming impatient and if she stops paying us we’ll have to cut him loose.”

“What? You can’t turn a dangerous lunatic like that loose on the streets! He could hurt someone, old as he might be he’s military trained. You need to get us more time! He’s not nearly ready to be reintegrated to gen-pop, much less be released on his own recognizance. No, I’ll talk to Old Babs, ha ha ha, she can still see reason, unlike the rest of her family—ha! Haaaa-ha-ha-ha!”

“She’d better,” Dr. Isley warned in a determined tone, as she matched Jack’s stride moving toward the shock therapy room, “Mayor Cobblepot made it very clear that he doesn’t want any of the Gordons running free on the streets. Also, we have a new arrival—“

“Ugh! Not another one!” Jack whined, rolling his head back dramatically, “I’m already overworked as it is! Can’t Dr. Crane take on a new one?”

“Yes, well, Crane’s got his own problems… his ‘process’ gave another patient a heart attack, we’re trying to minimize his exposure to avoid getting our asses sued.” Pam held open the door to the viewing platform that overlooked the shock therapy room, “you’ll want to take this one, anyway. She’s right up your alley. Delusional, out of touch, confused… she’s fucking sexy too. I need you to step up, Jack.”

“Fine, fine… you know me, leave no crazy behind and so forth.” Dr. Napier relented as he took his seat watching Ms. Gordon’s treatment through the tall windows, “damnit… I missed the beginning.”

Barbara was already in the midst of a prolonged exposure, her every muscle tense and her eyes sightless in the agony of currents flowing through her body. She had a large mouthpiece in to avoid biting off her tongue and her hair was gathered in a messy ponytail. The lights flickered faintly and Jack heard Pam begin moaning as she worked her fingers beneath her tight, burgundy skirt. Pam took pleasure in the unconventional treatment of the female patients almost as much as Jack did, but somehow, her getting herself off just a few seats away ruined the mood for him. Jack liked it better being alone in the viewing area, the unseen observer—now it just felt like some tawdry experience at an adult cinema or, worse yet, a strip club. No, Jack couldn’t get his cock hard, even when the current halted and Barbara began sobbing—which was usually his favorite part.

“On second thought, I’ll just pay Barbara a visit later. I ought to meet this new patient, get acquainted and so forth…” Jack remarked, filing out of the viewing balcony.

“Uh! Huh!” Pam moaned, only half paying attention to Jack and half lost in her own masterbatory endeavors. “her file! It’s! It’s! It’s in my office! Ah! Oh fuck!!”

The lights flickered as Dr. Napier left the viewing area, indicating that Barbara was getting another good dose of juice. Napier flagged down the first orderly who passed by.

“Excuse me, sir. Could you have the new patient brought to my therapy room, I’m just going to grab her file then I’ll meet you over there, is that alright?”

“Yes Sir, Dr. Napier,” the orderly responded dutifully.

After retrieving the new patient’s file, a Ms. Quinzel apparently, and Dr. Isley hadn’t exaggerated, she was gorgeous—even bound up as she was, in a strait jacket. Dr. Napier turned the key on his private therapy room which he had decorated with a veritable menagerie of clown-themed memorabilia—paintings, sculptures, lamps, games and dolls scattered all around with a big, rectangular clown table in the center of the room.

“Go ahead and park her over there, fellahs. Ha-ha-ha-hah! I’m kidding of course, not really.” Dr. Napier instructed the orderlies who wheeled the prone woman in strapped to a vertical backboard. “Good evening, Ms. Quinzel—well, maybe not for you, but it still can be! Where’s your optimism?!? Ha-ha-ha! I’m Dr. Napier but you can call me Jack. Would you like to be let down, that can’t be comfortable. We’ll start slow, tell me about what happened to bring you here today.”

 

[zydrate]

http://i.imgur.com/Qz5VKtn.jpg?1

Harleen Quinzel was smiling as she was brought in..maybe it was because of the drugs pumped into her earlier before her appointment with her shrink or maybe it was because she really was crazy...just like her parents had said. Hence the reason they brought her to Arkham...

Her head lolled to the side as she looked around the office. With a giggle, she was totally amazed at decorations and tried to reach out to touch one of the dolls that seemed to be giggling with her. But course, she couldn't due to the fact she was strapped down. She finally looked at Dr. Napier and smiled..a smile that showed sincerity but really, there was something else behind it.

He sure didn't look like some of those other doctors that tried to help her in the past. Not saying anything for a few moments, Harleen shrugged her shoulders and pouted her lips as she spoke, "I'll tell you everything doctor... but first, can I get out of this....contraption....please?" She dragged out the word please in the most sweetest way she could muster as she let her head fall back onto the board.

*******
Down the hall, Barbara Gordon was breathing heavily after receiving the last round of electrical shocks, her tears falling freely to people who didn't care. She tried several times to spit out the mouthpiece that kept her from biting her own tongue during treatments. Finally, the orderlies fastened it in place with a belt.

She had to hang on..but the more she did, the more they applied the shocks... all she wanted to do was go home and have her dad hold her...telling her everything would be OK... just like he used to when she was small and had woken up screaming from nightmares...

Finally, it was over!

But she knew it was only for short time...they would do the same to her again tomorrow...if not sooner. She hated this place so much! Where was her father?!

 

[LitShark]

Dr. Napier grinned wide at his newest patient, looking down at her mirthfully. It seemed that her injection of his special “giggle juice” was working on lowering her inhibitions and freeing up some nice, feel-good endorphins. She did, however, want to be released from her place on the gurney, which wasn’t uncommon—but his experience with the mentally disturbed had taught Dr. Napier not to trust even the sweetest of pleas from the psychologically deranged. It had only been a week since that loon Jim Gordon had overpowered a group of orderlies and nearly escaped the maximum security wing.

“All in good time, Ms. Quinzel. We’re going to wheel you into one of my interview rooms first, just hang tight,” Dr. Napier giggled on his last little pun, casually drumming his fingertips on Harleen’s forehead as he waited for the muscle-bound orderly to unlock the door to the conference room, “there we go! That wasn’t so bad, was it? You must understand, Ms. Quinzel, you’re a dangerous psychopath. He-he! We can’t take any risks with… mishandling you. Go ahead Georgie.”

Dr. Napier allowed the orderly to wheel her gurney into the room and meticulously unbuckle her restraints, one at a time. When he released her first wrist, George kept his firm grasp on her slender wrist, cuffing a metal shackle around it before releasing her other wrist and cuffing them both together. Next he unshackled her waist, her ankles and her neck last, keeping the well-worn, brown leather collar around her neck—standard issue in Maximum Security.

Harleen was led by her cuffs over to a metal table which had holes bored into the surface near the side she was clearly supposed to sit. The chain of her cuffs was placed between the holes and a special padlock was placed around the chain, the long U-shaped piece first and then the padlock applied to the underside. When he was done, George gave Harleen a dismissive little pat on her left ass cheek before wheeling the gurney back out and closing the door behind himself.

“There we are! Snug as a bug in a rug, sucking on a .45 slug—ha ha!” Dr. Napier laughed, pulling over a separate chair to sit opposite the beautiful blonde at the table she was cuffed to, “let’s begin at the beginning—since your unstable mind might get lost if we go out of order—even though disorder is SO MUCH more fun! We’ll start slow… for you. You’re here because of a long string of deviant behaviors that have led your loved ones to fear for your sanity. You went to school for… well for practically forever, studying Freud and his merry band of psychos to attempt to diagnose and understand what by definition defies understanding or diagnosis—Ha! Crazy! You’ve set up a practice, bought into the corporate myth—become a cog in the fascist regime and presumed that it would help you. In summary, you’re nuts! Ha ha!

“But don’t worry, it’s my job to break you of your misconceptions about the way things are, to deliver you into a healthy state of mind, guided by hedonism and self-expression rather than the repressed, rule-following madness that you’ve dedicated your life to up to this point,” Dr. Napier reached across the table to grasp his new patient’s hands in his own, stroking the back of her hand affectionately, “I need to know something, first though. Before I can help you, I need to know that you want to be helped. I need to know that you know that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Do you admit that you have a problem? Can you accept that you need my help? Are you ready to stop repressing and start living for the moment—feeling the experiences that life has to offer and letting go of the foolish—psychotic moral constraints that you’ve been fed by other loonies?”

Dr. Napier was beginning to feel optimistic about Ms. Quinzel’s odds for recovery. Perhaps it was his Giggle Juice doing its job, but she seemed receptive to his treatment.

“Tell me, right now, in this moment, what is it that you desire? What do you want more than anything? Please, don’t hold back.”

*-*-*

"Come on, Barbie Doll, wakey-wakey egs-and-bakey," George was telling Barbara as he unstrapped her from the electro-shock therapy table, "that's a good girl, lie down on the big, comfy stretcher, let's get you all strapped in."

George began the process of strapping Barbara's nearly limp body to the same gurney that Harleen had just been helped off of. Her body was weak from hours of electrical current being pumped through her slender but strong body. George finished strapping her in first and then he gently slid an errant strand of red hair out of her face, looking down at her affectionately from behind.

"There she is. Good morning beautiful. The Warden wants to see you again... maybe after he's done I'll take a roll... if you're a sweet, good girl for him, that is," George smiled, wheeling Barbara out of the electro-shock room toward the warden's office, "Warden Coppelpot sure seems to have taken a liking to you. It's good to have friends, isn't it, Barbie Doll?"

 

[zydrate]

He asked if she wanted to helped.

Harleen looked at him and nodded, “Yes.”

He wanted her to admit she had a problem. Another nod from Harleen, “Yes.”

He asked if she would accept his help.

“Yes!”

“YES!!!”

That elicited a giggle from Harleen and her head lolled to the side as her eyes closed, “That was a fun game, Doc.”

“Tell me, right now, in this moment, what is it that you desire? What do you want more than anything? Please, don’t hold back.”

“What do I want?!” She sat up and bounced in her seat, “I want to be free! Come on! I swear I’ll be good this time!” She tugged at her restraints and pouted, “See, this is holding me back, Doc! I swear I’m not crazy! I’m not!”

“I’ll do anything to show you I’m not nuts!”

****
Her body was too weak to move. Barbara looked at the orderly and tried to say something but couldn’t. Her mind had plenty to say but her mouth couldn’t move…her voice…

All anyone heard from her was gibberish.

She hated this feeling. It left her with a headache for days..at least until her next treatment. “Home…” was all she was able to get out.

The lights streamed above her as she was wheeled out of the treatment. She blinked. At least she could still do that. “P-plea—se…” she muttered, “..home…”

The orderly said something again about Copplepot and that’s when Barbara shook her head, “Noooo!” She was finally a little stronger as she fought against the restraints, “Nooo! Please!!”

 

[LitShark]

Dr. J couldn’t help but giggle to himself at his newest patient’s enthusiasm, she seemed more receptive than most to his unique brand of psychoanalysis. As she bounced in her chair the chains around her wrists rattled against the table and he felt his libido react, the unflattering khaki jumpsuit doing little to disguise her bouncing breasts. Nonetheless, she was suffering from the common delusion of sanity that so many of his patients had. She was very beautiful, there was no denying that, but Dr. J was fairly used to dealing with beautiful patients and if Barbara Gordon was any indication of what he was to expect from his newest patient, dangerous and horrible psychosis could be hiding just below the surface of a beautiful face.

“Now, now, Ms. Quinzel let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re a dangerous psychopath! Ha ha! I can’t just let you loose—I’d have to be crazy! Ha! And you, you must be crazy to tell me you’d do anything! Hoo-hoo! ‘Anything’ is for people that lack imagination! What if I told you to rip your face off and wear it as a hat? Or if I told you to bend your legs backward and suck on your toes? Hah-ha ha-hoo!” just as Dr. J seemed ready to fall off his chair with manic laugher, his demeanor and tone shifted to cold, dark and deadly serious, “no, special privileges must be earned…”

Standing up abruptly, Dr. J set down his pen and made his way over to Harleen, his expression deathly serious and inscrutable. He walked slowly around the table, one step at a time until he was out of sight from where Harleen was seated. He stayed there for a moment, considering his next move and then all at once snatched the folding chair out from under her and tossed it across the room. As she stumbled back, Dr. J caught her under her arms and helped her to stand. With her hands still cuffed to the table, she was forced to bend forward and soon felt the outline of Dr. J’s arousal grinding against her firm ass-cheeks.

The drugs seemed to be working well, so Dr. J decided to conduct his first test of Harleen’s compliance with his id based therapy program. His hands moved slowly forward, from under her arms to her chest, caressing and squeezing her large breasts together and pulling her back against him, forcing her firm, round ass harder against his still growing erection. He squeezed and kneaded her breasts slowly, leaning forward to nibble on her ear before speaking again in his low, snarling whisper.

“But since you’re so… eager… to begin treatment, and you did say you’d do anything… I’m going to fuck the shit out of you, here and now, because my id demands it. If you can keep your ego, super ego and general socio-sexual shame from fucking up my good time, I’ll release your hands and make sure that you can remain unrestrained for future sessions.”

*-*-*

As Barbara was wheeled into his dimly lit office, Warden Oswald Cobblepot removed the butt of his cigarette from its long, slender holder and stubbed it out in the ashtray on his desk. He stood and slid his suspenders down from his shoulders with a soft grunt for each side. The orderly knew better than to linger or ask questions, it was something of an open secret what happened to the female patients when they were brought into the warden’s office and no one dared interfere or question him.

When the two of them were alone, Cobblepot retrieved a small, leather kit from his desk, filling a long syringe with the translucent, green fluid that Dr. J had created specifically for the task of making patients more docile and controllable. After a few flicks to force any air bubbles to the top, he squeezed a slender jet of the fluid out of the syringe to ensure that there were no bubbles left. As he casually made his way over to his helpless charge, the warden began to speak.

“Well, well, well, here we are again Ms. Gordon. It seems that you’re not taking well at all to our treatment here at Arkham Mental Health Facility… Such a shame really, for one so beautiful to be so entirely out of her mind,” with a brush of his hand, almost gentle, he moved her long, red hair away from her neck and injected her with great care, pushing the contents of the syringe into her bloodstream, “though I’ll admit, you do show more promise than your father—psychotic wretch that he is. I know that I promised you, last week that you’d get to see him if you did as I told you, but his behavior has been… well, deplorable—if I’m honest. So you have him to thank for your prolonged separation.”

The warden flicked the used syringe in the direction of his waste bin, landing it on the floor nearby among other such biohazardous used needles he’d used on other occasions to pacify patients.

“Unfortunately, his behavior has relegated him to maximum security isolation for the rest of this week, but I’ll tell you what,” now Oswald was leaning over Barbara’s restrained body, one hand caressing her chest through her regulation khaki button-up, while the other caressed the side of her face, “since you know the drill by now, I’ll go against the doctor’s orders and let you talk to him through the door, once you fulfill your part of the bargain by pleasing and satisfying me. That’s a good deal, isn’t it?”

With this, Oswald unbuckled Barbara’s far wrist, confident that the combination of drugs, exhaustion and his generous offer would be enough to discourage her from lashing out at him violently—as her chart stated was a severe risk with her. When her far hand was free, Oswald began unbuckling her other wrist while simultaneously unbuttoning her top.