Dystopyum (The D-ot Hexalogy Book 1) Read online

  Three days squeezed by, shock by shock. Each day, Martha was freed to wash herself. After those ten minutes were up, coarse, hardened attendants would then throw her back on the toilet, and there she would stay, bound and helpless.

  Oh God, help me through this! she prayed silently. It did not take long to realize that her torturer watched and listened for any sign of emotion. Any such detection always resulted in a more severe SE. Otherwise they set the system on “Random Sublethal Electrocution, (RSE.) These were more standardized levels and generally not as severe, rarely drawing blood. Therefore, she said nothing but what the recording of the female voice told her to repeat. She watched the screen or looked around the room, listening to the same monotone voice repeating the same mantras over and over again. It is maddening, yes, but you can still do this, she kept telling herself silently.

  “Love is death. Love is death. This is death. You will die here. Repeat after me, ‘I will die here. I will die here. I will die here.’ Repeat after me, ‘I will die here, and another one will leave in my place. I will die here, and another me will leave. I will die here, and another me will leave. Love did this to me. Love did this to me. The superstition of love. Love did this to me. The superstition of love. Love did this to me. The superstition of love. The Temple protects me from the heresy of love. The Temple protects me from the heresy of love. The Temple protects me from the heresy of love. I am a recovering love addict. I am a recovering love addict. I have a disease, and my cure is here. I have a disease, and my cure is here. I have a disease, and my cure is here.’ Repeat!”

  “GGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasgggggggggghhhhh hhhhhhhh!”

  Day seven. Martha was now just an empty lump of flesh. Any slight noise would send her heart rate skyrocketing for a few seconds, then slow down into an uneasy silence. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. The drone of the female on the recording had become just a blur and all her words and just sounded like distant logic. Of course, love is evil, she thought. Of course it is. How can it not be? It is so clear — I was so foolish. GGGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRAAAGGGGGGGGAAAAAAA-ARRRRR RGG!”

  Martha’s abdominal muscles were dreadfully raw and painful, and her whole body was throbbing with or without the shocks.

  And so, this ritual went on, day by day, the second week coming and going. The female voice kept on, maddeningly, “Love is pain. Love is pain. Love is insane. Love is a lie. Hate love. Hate love. Hate love. Love is death. Love is death. Love is death. Pain is truth. Pain is truth. Pain is truth. Pain is real, love is not. Pain is real, love is not. Say it! Say it! Repeat after me!”

  Martha now looked catatonic. She was incoherently staring ahead, no longer thinking about when the next SE would come — just there, period. She was feeling as if who she was really had died, and another thing had taken that place in this body of hers. She was dully repeating the words because she would be electrocuted more severely if she did not.

  This day, her torturer came in the room, and brought a folding chair with him. He set it up in front of Martha. It was the first time she had laid eyes on him. He was a little taller than Hais, and just as wide. He proceeded to pull some photographs out from an envelope he had in his hand. He was sitting rather close to Martha. She was not looking at him. She was in her own world.

  This was his chance. She was a fine looking female, and he was hoping to take this to another level. She had to fail the “midterm” now, in order for that to happen. He picked out a photo of Jan in midelectrocution, a blue-arc escaping from his cheek, with blood coming down from another wound on his forehead, grimacing with the “smile”. He stuck it right in front of Martha’s face and said, “Look at your boy!”

  Martha’s distant vision closed in on the object in front of her nose. A look of recognition and a tilting backward of her open-mouthed face led directly to a gasp — and then the screaming came. From that point on, Martha kept on screaming as if she had gone mad, her screams eventually descending into sobs. The sobs lost momentum as she finally settled into quiet weeping. Why aren’t they shocking me? She asked herself. She finally worked up the nerve to look at her torturer.

  He had a very serious look on his face, and had been waiting for her to see it. “You have failed. You are going to be sent from here to be tortured in love-destruction prison for a period of one year. You have failed. I have failed.” He gave a feign sigh, and got up from his chair.

  While Martha had thought all emotion was gone, it was right back again, with full force. Her insides fell and fell into a pit that she was desperate to escape. She wrestled with her restraints to no avail. I’m losing Jan!

  “No!” she raged, straining her neck and head forward against the cervical restraints and was immediately backhanded, hard, by her torturer. He then turned towards his chair to remove it from the room. She stopped crying, and started pleading, “Why? How can I fail now? It’s only been two weeks!”

  The torturer had picked up his chair, and folded it. He turned, looked at her and said, “You just cried a moment ago. Tears cannot be but a sign of hope, for when hope is gone, tears cannot exist. After two weeks of torture, you showed hope. You need the more intensive treatment of lovedestruction prison. You're done here. I’ve turned your RSE unit off — you’ll need to rest for what’s coming.” Then he turned, and left the room.

  Oh my God, what am I going to do? Martha desperately thought to herself. I was ready. I was taking it — I was ready for another two weeks.

  “I was ready for another two weeks!” she shouted out, hoping he could hear — hoping anyone could hear. I can’t do this for a whole year. Her thoughts floated in and out of her awareness. She could not imagine having a shred of sanity or identity with a year of this torture. What can I do? she asked herself. “I was ready for another two weeks!” she yelled again.

  The hell with it, she thought. I have nothing to lose now. Martha took a deep breath.

  “You know, you really suck! All you had to do was shock the living shit out of me, and you couldn’t even do that right!” She paused, waiting for a reaction. Is he there? Is anyone there? She tried again, sneering, “No wonder you’re worried about productivity and failures. How many females have you lost? Of all my luck, I have to get the loser of the bunch. You fucking loooooooserrrrrrrrrrr!”

  The torturer burst into the room. This was not the response he was expecting. “I make them all pass!” He quickly regained his composure.

  Good. He’s here. “You’ve got to be able to do this!” Martha shouted, fearless now. I’ll put up with anything, please!” She was looking at him, pleading.

  He stood there, staring back at her, waiting.

  He’s thinking about it, she thought. “I’ll do anything,” Martha begged, looking directly at him. “Anything.”

  He still stood there, studying her. I think she’s ready, he thought to himself. Yes, she is.

  “There is something I can do,” he said. “You must sign a waiver for it. It is extreme, but you should then pass. You will become like an animal.” He paused, “Actually, less than one.”

  “Anything! Anything! I’ll sign!” Anything to see my son again.

  “Don’t you want to know what it is?” he asked, surprised.

  Martha paused. What is it? What — it doesn’t matter! I’ve got no choice! She looked at him. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve got to pass.”

  He pulled out a form that he had at the ready, and held it for Martha to sign.

  She signed the document and then, as her shoulders and head sagged with resignation, her torturer said, “I’ll be right back.”

  He left the room for what seemed to be about fifteen minutes. He came back with a couple of other male guards. Her torturer began flashing pictures of Jan up on the screen now. These were pictures of Jan’s SE’s, from different angles. There were close ups and the most horrible scenes of painful contortions of Jan’s face when in tetany. All the pictures shown had bleeding from one spot or another. They started up the recording of the female’s words of hate aga
in, with her endless repetitions about the heresy of love. Then they started the SE’s.

  The three torturers stood there and watched as she received seven SE’s in the period of a half hour. Then when she was an incoherent lump, they unstrapped her from the toilet, and bound her on the sticky floor. They then had their way with her in any and every way, and they took their time about it.

  When they had enough, they brought in a big, very heavy female. She wore a black leather mask over her eyes, and was tightly strapped with black leather strips over her body to the point of pain. Her fat flesh bulged out from the tight leather restraints. She brought instruments of pain, and used them to force Martha to pleasure her in any way she desired. Sometimes her only pleasure was to cause Martha pain. Although there was a death penalty in the NOV for homosexuality, there are always exceptions, and she was one of them.

  The rule was that Martha had to be bound such that she was always facing the screen with the beastly images of her son’s torments. When satiated, the leather female left Martha bound helplessly, laying there sticking to the floor. Then the next guard came in for his turn. When they ran out of rapist volunteers, they tied Martha back in place on the toilet for her standard RSEs. The pictures on the screen went back to pictures of other people in loving scenes. The female voice went on and on…

  An hour went by. Then another hour, trailed by the next. Another day, then another followed this, although Martha would not have known it, if it were not for her torturer’s shift. He had never taken a day off. In between his shifts, she was put on automatic RSE, with the occasional ‘visitor’. Another and another followed another shift, and so it went. Minute-byminute, hour-by-hour, day-by-day this experience continued, and then her torturer’s voice disappeared for a day or two. The other rapist volunteers still came though.

  A day came when her assigned torturer walked into the room, smiling. He had indeed taken a couple of days off, making sure there would be replacements. He stood there, observing. The female voice was droning on, “Love did this to you. Love did this to you. Love did this to you. Love will kill you. Love kills. Love kills everything. Repeat after me, ‘I hate love. I hate love. I blame love for everything that has happened to me. This is my vaccination for the prevention of love. This is my deserved punishment for becoming infected with love.’ Repeat!”

  Martha became vaguely aware that someone had entered the room and started growling, low. Blood was seeping from her crotch, and her throat was raw and bruised. Her genitalia were sticky and filled with the stench of old blood and infection. Her mouth and face reeked of the leather female’s unwashed scent. Her head was down, and her eyelids half closed, but she was looking up in a savage way. She had not cleaned herself in over a week, and just plain stank. She had not eaten either, and so they had been using the tube with food paste to force-feed her. The female in leather entered as her torturer was still standing there. He looked at the leather female and dryly asked, in his detached way, “You want to go first? You don’t leave a mess.”

  The leather female replied, “No, she’s become a biter.” She paused, and said, “I think we’re done.”

  The torturer uncharacteristically started laughing in spite of himself, “That’s what Dremo told me! Did you see that cut on her arm? He did that when she took a bite out of his pride!” They both started laughing, and then he said, “Well, let’s take a look.”

  He changed the pictures on the screen to the latest ones of Jan being tortured, and Martha looked at the pictures with absolute rage, and started howling at the screen, “Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Love must suffer! No mercy! No mercy! Kill him!”

  Martha’s torturer pressed a button on the device he was holding in his hand.

  GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA AAHAAAAAAAAAA AAHHHHHHHHhAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaa aaaaaa!” That shock was one hundred and fifty percent higher than average and lasted thirty seconds. Blood spurted out of both nostrils. Martha spit it out of her mouth too, and growled like a sick, sick animal, back to her catatonic gazing. The growling continued.

  The torturer looked at the leather female and said, “What do you think?”

  She glanced at Martha with half bored eyes, and said, “I think she’s cooked.”

  Her torturer stared at Martha a bit longer. If she had not reeked so badly, he may have had another go at her. He decided that she would indeed graduate, one day early. “I told her I could do it,” the torturer said proudly, gloating over his handiwork.

  Chapter Five

  The Male Who Could Not Love

  K

  nock, Knock.

  Griswolt took a deep breath, and then a sigh. My stomach.

  Well, she’s here, he thought, as he rose to go upstairs to open

  the entry door. He had been waiting since early morning, and the day felt like it took forever. Now, it was evening, and Martha had finally arrived. Griswolt felt the drag of gravity on his big frame along with increasing anxiety as he pulled himself up the stairs. He opened the door. There she was, along with an attendant, who looked too young. “Does she belong here?” the attendant stupidly asked. His hat matched his uniform, but it was too big for his head, which made him look even younger.

  “Yes, she does,” Griswolt said with a frown. He did not like incompetence, and this guy sure didn’t start off right. Griswolt had not looked at Martha but for a glance when he first opened the door. He took a better look at her now. She had a stuporous, starved appearance. Her gaze was distant, and she looked and smelled horrible. She had been heavily sedated and was in a straight jacket.

  “I have some documents for you to sign,” the attendant said as he reached into his satchel, and pulled them out with the release form. He held them for Griswolt to sign.

  Griswolt signed them, handed them back, and said to the attendant, “I think I can take it from here.” He turned to Martha, and said, “Come on, sweetie, let’s go inside — you’re home now.” With that, he turned towards her and put his arm around her, ignoring a low growl that was developing in her throat, as she was standing there, semi-crouched. Martha instantly recoiled at his touch, and her growl became a raving roar. The attendant was ready, and tased her, causing Martha to squat and duck her head down in reflexive fear. For effectiveness, the taser had the same frequency as the SEs used in love-deprogramming school, which was thirty beats per second. This was highly effective at subduing these subjects, as the “tone” would be forever burned into their physical memories. It also emitted a loud, vibrating sound of precisely the same wavelength. The amplified audible tone alone would often subdue these subjects.

  Griswolt was still recovering from the shock of this stranger’s response. That is what she was — a stranger. The overcast day accentuated her pale looking scales.

  Martha’s presence was certainly not there. He found himself wondering if the attendant would leave the taser there for a bribe. He took another look at Martha. “What do we do now?’ Griswolt asked the attendant.

  The attendant looked at him with hardly hidden disapproval, and said, “You didn’t read the manual, did you?”

  Griswolt was taken aback by this young upstart’s question. There should be a class for husbands for this, Griswolt thought. I think I’ll bring it up at our next meeting. “I did read the manual!” he retorted to the attendant.

  The attendant, remembering the high-scale neighborhood he was in, backed down, and apologized. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to accuse —” “Save it!” Griswolt snapped. “How do we get her inside?” Griswolt asked as he stepped toward Martha again.

  “Stop!” the attendant yelled, putting his hand in the way of Griswolt, who was about to take Martha’s arm.

  Griswolt stopped, and said “What? What now?”

  The attendant looked at him, taking a breath to think of how to say it. “I’m sure you have studied your manual. It’s kind of long, and sometimes people miss important things there. One important thing is that you do not touch the graduate upon arrival home. In a
few days to a few weeks, she will let you know when it is all right to do so, and even then, you will have — issues. Secondly, you must be as quiet as possible. Move slowly and gently around her.” He stopped, and looked at Griswolt. “You do remember this, right?”

  Griswolt barely remembered it. He had a hard time forcing himself to read it, or face it for that matter. Suddenly, this kid seemed to know what he was talking about. “Would you help me to bring her inside?” Griswolt asked.

  “Of course,” the attendant answered. He said, “Martha, we are going inside now, you go first.” Then he motioned for her to move. She would not. He pulled out the taser, and just turned the sound on. Martha jumped at that. He said again, “Martha, please go inside your house, or I’ll have to use this.”

  Martha moved. She started for the stairs, and slowly descended them, with the attendant and Griswolt following. When they made it downstairs, they led her to the bedroom, where she just stood.

  Griswolt and the attendant left her standing there and went back to the kitchen. The attendant put a big bag of various bottles of sedatives and pharmaceuticals on the kitchen table, along with a surprising supply of antibiotics. Then he told Griswolt, “I can give you a loaner taser, if you like.”

  Griswolt looked at the taser. Although he had wanted it earlier, now he had an unfathomable feeling of confidence, and changed his mind. Martha looked so weak he no longer considered her a threat. “No, thanks.”

  The attendant shrugged his shoulders, said goodbye, and then quickly left.

  Griswolt went back into the bedroom. “Do you want anything Martha?” he asked. No response. She was gazing off a million miles away. He could smell her from where she was standing. I have to get her out of that contraption, he thought, looking at her straight jacket. How can I do that without touching her? I should look at that manual again.