“Is it as bad as I thought?” Benji asks. He avoids my eyes and clears his throat. “I’ve been trying to help her. I don’t know. She’s just—” He pulls on his collar and coughs. “It’s weird, right? She liked your fist. There’s something off about that, you know? Don’t get me wrong, Doc. I love her. She’s great. After spending years with her, how could I not fall for her, you know? It’s just…I don’t know about this. I’m trying, but I’m scared, Doc. Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it? I?—”
I don’t blame Benji for falling in love with Violet. One moment, he’s simply observing her quirks, hardly aware of her potential deviancy, and the next, the poor man falls in love with the cunt.
Like Benji, I want to see Violet thrive; what that means to each of us is vastly different. Benji wants her to be fully independent. I, on the other hand, want to see her blossom into her truest form: my personal toy.
“It’s worse, I’m afraid,” I say. I massage my sore cock, eager for my own release and to force the slutty bitch to experience every delicious pain imaginable. “As I’m sure you saw during the preliminary examination, we tested her for objectification arousal. And she…”
I pause for effect, knowing I could tell him exactly how wet his girlfriend’s cunt was, and his entire world would fall into shock. The poor man would likely need to be hospitalized himself.
Then again, the idiot already knows the truth.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” I say. “But Violet is by far the most severe case I’ve ever encountered.”
Benji’s shoulders droop, then he grabs his chest. Amusement buzzes inside of me, shifting like a swarm of insects in my rib cage, yet I keep my expression dismissive.
“My concern is she will only find true healing if she completes a necessary stay at the asylum,” I say. Benji swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his thin neck. I broaden my shoulders. “She must begin the successive testing phase.”
At those words, Benji flashes with fright, his adrenaline a white light rooting itself in his pupils. A memory, perhaps, triggered from those words: testing phase.
Perhaps Benji needs his own stay in our asylum.
“As you know, we begin with the initial examination, followed by the diagnosis, which is our current state,” I explain. He fidgets in his chair, the pathetic rat. I sneer down my nose. “Next, we begin the successive testing phase, which involves more assessments of her behavior. If treatment is necessary, I shall grant her a short return to her living quarters to collect any obligatory medications.”
“Medications?”
My upper lip curls. Do I need to explain everything to him?
“We prefer to avoid physiological illnesses at the asylum,” I say. “We must keep our patients in a prime physical condition, and I’ve always respected my fellow colleagues’ advice.” I chuckle briefly, then return to my stoicism. “After that, she shall enter the asylum for an extended period, during which she will complete her intellectual training.”
I crack my neck and tighten my ponytail, energy tingling in my extremities. This should be routine to me, but the idea of keeping Violet close to me while I mold her into my perfect object excites me. She has so much potential, and we’ve only just begun.
“We have no estimate of how long the training will take,” I say. “It could be years.”
Benji burrows in his chair, a rodent preparing for the inevitable winter. Many would expect more of a reaction—perhaps even violence—from a caring boyfriend, but I’ve come to understand Benji’s behavior. This fidgeting is his only sign of distress; defiance is not in his nature.
Since Benji first explained his concerns with Violet, my interest in her has grown exponentially. This initial examination and my own reaction to Oliver’s assistance has sealed my need to keep the cunt for myself.
Once she finally enters the Ambrose Asylum to begin her training, there will be no escape. She’ll be in my cage forever.
Because of my other project, I will have a limited amount of time to use her fully conscious potential, and thus, I will take full advantage of her final hours until I finally merge her with my secret project. I have additional curiosities when it comes to that phase of her existence.
“A-and you’re sure it’s absolutely necessary?” Benji stutters. “There’s nothing else we can do? An outpatient thing? I don’t know. What other options do we?—”
“It is absolutely necessary,” I snap. A foul stench floats around us, reminiscent of ammonia, and his heavy breath is an incessant bell. I abandon my cock and link my fingers above the desk. I hate when men like him show signs of insubordination. I grit my teeth. “You want what’s best for her, don’t you?”
“I do, but?—”
“In our past consultations, you mentioned the patient’s obsession with her birth mother, implying the news about her mother’s death may have been the catalyst to her sexual inclinations.” The bumbling idiot nods his head frantically. My jaw twitches. “While you are alone, perhaps you should visit the mother’s grave and see if there are any signs of escalation she’s been hiding from you.”
“Right,” he mumbles. “Escalations. She always goes there. I went once when we first moved in together. Maybe I should go now, while she’s with you. She might?—”
“Good,” I say. “I’m afraid you may find disturbing proof of her illness. Take note of it. Report back to my assistant; he’ll add the information to her file.”
I stand and peer down at the little man. It’s irritating that not only am I not back with my favorite patient already, but I have to explain the situation in minute detail to this complete idiot.
It must be done, though. It’s part of the process to release her from all other control.
“The patient alluded to desiring sexual relations with her mother,” I lie. Benji’s stature crumbles, a matchstick sculpture tumbling to the floor. Feigning disgust, I shake my head and click my tongue. “Not only is it incest, but it may also be necrophilia. Once you see proof of her escalations, you will understand how badly she needs my guidance. And if she denies any part of it, trust me: it’s simply a manifestation of her symptoms.”
