26.Annie's Song.

After he had found out the truth, he was furious. He ranted and raved, threatened to me, god knows what. I was drugged pretty much out of my mind and Damon dragged me into one room, tied me to the bed with spiked chains, and started jelling me again. Threading a thick cannula inside me. Looking at me furiously and talking with a cold sneer.

There were several big tanks ready there, waiting next to the wall on one side of the room. Some tanks were red, some white, and even black ones. He saw me looking at them. Those tanks were huge, and I was not sure if even one could fit inside me.

"These red tanks are tranquilizers, the white ones are muscle relaxants, the black ones are metals. And the blue ones are a mixture of nerve agents and snake venom." Damon said coldly.

Then he began. First, he shot more sedative implants into my abdominal aorta, which could also absorb more medicine from the jelly. He started with my arms and hands first. The spiked handcuffs were now attached to the floor, so my arms were straight at my sides.

He lifted my arm over a kind of block and made an incision in my shoulder through which he threaded the cannula all the way up to my wrist, first blowing air and loosening the tissue underneath my skin. He left the cannula attached to my arm. He did not talk much; he worked, and he was still furious, but I could see that this had been pre-planned so this would probably happen in any way. He had made a plan and worked according to it.

The air tightened my skin and made it tight. The tank was slightly open, so the air floated under my skin, still stretching it. Damon did the same with the other arm. Soon, both my hands felt like my skin was tearing. There were holes throughout the cannula, so air was blowing all over under my skin. It was not a pleasant feeling at all.

He repeated the procedure on both my legs. He did everything slowly and calmly. When he finally got the skin on my other leg to stretch, my arms had swollen considerably as air penetrated under my skin. My skin had stretched considerably. My arms were at least twice the size or more 

Now the ache had turned into more pain already. It was not a delightful feeling to get so much air under your skin. I remembered how he had taken Mimo's hide too, but he did not take my skin, only stretch it. 

Damon nodded in satisfaction, turned off the tank, and now connected the cannula to the suction device, which sucked the air out from under my skin. My skin sagged and sucked in on itself as if I had been drained. I knew he'd just done a good sedative jelly reserve under my skin, stretching it so now those tanks would fit in.

By the time he had drained both my legs of air, the implants shot into my abdominal aorta had kept me pretty helpless, but their effect was wearing off. I tried to move and squirm, writhe, and struggle against the restraints. I was trying to move my wrists, to twist them free as much as possible. Damon pulled the first red tank closer and connected it to the cannula visible on my shoulder, opening the valve quite open. Soon I felt jelly trickling under my skin.

The torture began, sending shivers down my spine. Damon turned the tank's valve to its fullest, and I felt the slimy jelly slowly trickle down my wrist, chilling my skin. He placed the tank in my trembling hand, and one by one, poured the viscous substance down my legs, causing a cold, sticky sensation.

The air tank returned, its cannula now encircling my neck, as he injected the pressurized air into my body, inflating me like a grotesque balloon. Not a word escaped his lips, and I silently thanked him, unable to bear his incessant chatter while enduring this torment. He peeled away my skin, methodically exposing every inch of my body, relentlessly pumping air into me for what felt like an eternity. With not a gentle touch, he turned me onto my side, stretching the skin on my back, ensuring no part of me was spared.

Tank after the tank was emptied into my limbs, his hands massaging them, provoking unbearable heaviness. The sedative remained dormant, prolonging my agony, as he wanted me fully aware of the horrors to come. The jelly coated my limbs, rendering them so weighty that I could no longer lift them, not even attempt to twist my wrists.

The frigid jelly acted as a chilling balm, slowing its own absorption, bringing a cooling sensation inside me, knowing it would cool my body down, and weaken me too. Finally, the shackles were released, and the jelly was smeared up to my knuckles, causing my skin to crack under the strain of the expanding air, stretching it to its limits.

"See, baby," he hissed maliciously, relishing in my pain. "The jelly makes your skin stretchy, allowing me to add more."

Once my limbs were engorged and my skin bulging, he reattached the suction device, drawing my skin back in, revealing the extent of its grotesque elongation. Countless tanks were brought forth as if there could never be enough. He inserted a cannula into my abdominal cavity, sending the jelly directly into my peritoneum, while another cannula penetrated deeper, nestled amongst my organs. And then, under my skin.

From somewhere, he produced a sturdy metal frame, adorned with tight leather straps. He hoisted me upright, securing my arms and legs with the straps, forcing me to stand. The weight of my body felt unbearable, limbs heavy as lead. The straps held me in an upright position, primarily restraining my arms and legs, while my torso remained untouched, a canvas for his sadistic masterpiece.

And then he connected the tanks. The sound of the metal clinking echoed in the room. There were also several cannulas on my back, their icy touch sending shivers down my spine. I had at least three more tanks drained into my insides: tranquilizers and several tanks of various nerve agents, neurotoxins, hypnotics, and metals.

Now he told me about what was inside of these tanks, his words whispered in my ear like a sinister melody. He warned me they would require an activator to be felt, but they would weaken me, their potency already seeping into my veins, chilling me to the core. He took sadistic pleasure in the thought of seeing me suffer. He detailed the snake venoms and other venoms and poisons that filled those tanks, their deadly contents already absorbed into my being. 

The substances poured in under gravity, a viscous liquid cascading into my body, and I felt my skin stretch as if it were a jelly-filled pouch. Damon remained unfazed, clinically adjusting his tanks, always removing the empty ones. Once all the tanks were drained, I felt the jelly trickle down to my ankles and calves, the weight of it pulling at my lower abdomen.

Damon took the tanks away and retrieved a sports bag. He squatted in front of me and tied my legs, the pressure of the jelly pushing upwards but leaving a slick layer under my skin, its coolness a stark contrast against my flesh. He used some sort of elastic compression bandages, tightly wrapping them around me. The same process was repeated in my arms, immobilizing them. 

Now, the jelly was spread evenly under my skin, intimately in contact with my muscles. He came behind me and encased my body in a sort of corset; the material constricting as he slowly tied it from the bottom, guiding the jelly into place.

With each tug, the pressure in my abdomen increased, and more jelly was waiting to be contained. The corset, a tight-fitting shirt, was buttoned up over my shoulders. The armholes were restrictive, making it difficult to breathe. I gasped for air, feeling suffocated by the constricting garment. 

Then Damon took the activator bag, its contents promising further torment. He untied me only to secure me to the bed, my limbs rendered immobile. He inserted a central line earlier, and now he quietly infused the activator drip into it. The pain, the agony, and the confusion slowly crept in as the activator dripped, its effects intensifying with each passing moment.

He sat in the chair, looking at me, squirming and moaning, my mind muddling up with sedatives and pain. His expression was pure pleasure, nothing more. Just twisted sneer and sadistic enjoyment of this torture.

Damon lifted me into a sitting position, propping pillows behind my back to hold me up. Making the pressure even worse, my confusion and moaning increased. He picked up another packet, the crinkling of the wrapper filling the room, and then he inserted the tube through my nose and into my stomach, a discomforting sensation that made me wince.

He pushed the nasogastric tube all the way into my small intestine at first. Then he connected the nasal cannula to one of those 15-liter bags. I didn't know what it was, liquid or jelly, and opened the tube to the full.

He had used a very thick tube, almost the thickness of an intubation tube, and soon, I could feel the cold jelly running down my small intestine. When about a third of the bag had drained and the activator was halfway through, I was drenched in sweat, cramping, burning, tearing pain all over, and my muscles felt like jelly.

I couldn't breathe. The corset was too tight; I felt the jelly moving inside and under my skin. My heart was pounding, and my bowels started to spasm. Pain shot through my gut like fiery arrows. My mind could not take much more. I could not pass out as there had been some sort of stimulants in those bags as well.

This was another pain gel. Damon pulled my nasogastric tube slightly backward away from my now full bowels into my stomach, and I felt the jelly begin to fill and corrode my stomach. The more my stomach filled, the more pressure my abdominal cavity was under, and the more the jelly was absorbed. I was trying to squirm, writhe, and move away, but I was helpless, as helpless as I could be. Not be able to do anything else than suffer.

Eventually, Damon pulled the tube out. He injected the underside of my diaphragm.

"That will ensure, baby, that the sphincter between your stomach and esophagus stays closed, and you can't vomit out the gel," he remarked.

I could feel something spasming inside me. The pressure made my heart pound, almost arrhythmic.

Damon cleaned up all the equipment, untied me, and started walking with me again. He pressed the remote, and the corset quivered and squeezed tighter at every turn. I tried to walk, but the sedative took away my resistance and made me obedient, yet I understood everything, felt everything, and knew I would remember everything, too. My limbs were heavy, my mind muddled up a mess of pain and agony, creating this into a nightmare again. This castle was becoming a place of nightmares, not a place of love anymore. 

Sometimes, we stopped in a room where he was still rubbing the top of the corset as hard as he could. He enjoyed and got genuine pleasure from my moans and whimpers of pain. Sometimes he dried my forehead talking to me. That chatter was something I did not want to hear, and he was looking at me like I was a piece of meat and it made his touch to be something that I did not want at all. Then he left me in the room to lie on the bed while he went to eat and shower.

When he finally took the corset off and untied my legs and arms, my skin had almost returned to normal, and all the jelly had been absorbed. My stomach was on fire, and I could feel the jelly still there. There was black and extensive bruising all over me. Damon felt around. He watched what part of me was most painful. Then he hit me with his fist as hard as he could. I passed out from the pain.