LOBOTOMY | BRAINWASHED | PATIENT #523951

In the cold, sterile halls of the Asylum, whispers of madness and desire intertwined. One patient, Paul, harbored a dark, fervent obsession.

He had fantasized endlessly about receiving a lobotomy, the thought of it sending shivers of arousal through his body.

The idea of surrendering control, of having his mind and desires laid bare by the blade, consumed him.

Word of his peculiar longing reached Dr. Kali DuBois, known simply as Doc within the Asylum’s walls. Doc was no stranger to the strange and the macabre, her reputation for unorthodox methods preceded her. Intrigued by Paul’s obsession, she decided to indulge his twisted desire.

The operating room was prepped, sterile and cold, but a stage for the macabre ballet that was about to unfold. Paul was strapped down to the table, his body tense with anticipation, and the unmistakable bulge in his hospital gown was evidence of his arousal. His eyes flickered with a mixture of fear and excitement as Doc approached, her presence commanding and serene.

Doc began to hum Elvis Presley’s “Burning Love,” her voice a low, tantalizing murmur that echoed through the room. “Lord Almighty, I feel my temperature rising…” Her voice was a low hum at first, a private melody that only she could hear.

As she selected a sharp, precise tool, the scalpel glinted under the bright surgical lights. With a confident motion, she began the first incision, slicing through the scalp with meticulous care. “Higher and higher, it’s burning through to my soul…” she sang, her voice gaining strength, resonating through the room.

Paul’s breathing grew ragged, a guttural moan escaping his lips as the blade cut deeper. His arousal was evident, his erection straining against the restraints. Her hands moved with practiced ease, each movement perfectly timed with the rhythm of the song. “Girl, girl, girl, you gonna set me on fire,” she crooned, guiding the instrument deeper, cutting through layers of tissue with deliberate precision. The sound of the scalpel slicing through flesh was a sharp, crisp counterpoint to her lyrics.

“My brain is flaming, I don’t know which way to go…” Doc’s voice was a mixture of sweetness and determination. She expertly navigated around vital structures, her eyes never wavering from her task. “Your kisses lift me higher, like the sweet song of a choir.” The chorus rang out, her voice filling the sterile space as she made a crucial incision, separating the cranial bones to access the brain.

Paul’s body yielded to her expertise, each cut a testament to her skill and control. “You light my morning sky, with burning love…” She continued, her voice unwavering as she worked, the lyrics flowing effortlessly from her lips, providing a calming rhythm for her team.

Doc danced around Paul’s restrained body, her movements graceful and deliberate. Her voice carried an eerie calm, soothing yet filled with a strange, electric intensity. “It’s coming closer, the flames are now licking my body…” she sang, though her hands were anything but shaky. They were steady, precise, as they guided the instrument through the delicate neural pathways. “Won’t you help me, I feel like I’m slipping away…”

With a final, decisive motion, she made the critical incision, the lobotomy probe sliding into place with surgical precision.

She manipulated the probe with expert care, severing the connections in his prefrontal cortex, each movement calculated and deliberate. The moment was intense, a culmination of skill and dark desire.

Paul’s body tensed, then relaxed, a strange serenity washing over his features as the procedure reached its climax. Doc stepped back, her breathing steady, her song coming to a soft, lingering end. “It’s hard to breathe, my chest is a-heaving…”

Doc took a step back and looked into Paul’s eyes, still filled with a strange mixture of desire and emptiness. She leaned in close and whispered, “Red.”

Immediately, Paul’s erection grew even harder, straining painfully against the fabric of his gown. She began snapping her fingers to the beat of the song, each snap making his erection pulse in time. “You light my morning sky, with burning love…”

As she continued snapping her fingers, she added a playful wiggle of her butt, each movement teasingly synchronized with her snaps.

She leaned in close and whispered hypnotically into his ear, “Every time you hear the word ‘red,’ your dick will get hard no matter what. No matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are, your dick will get hard for me. You will feel an irresistible urge to play with yourself. But you can’t, Paul. You’re strapped down. You’re completely at my mercy. Just remember, ‘red,’ and you’re mine.”

The operating room fell silent, the only sound now the steady beep of the heart monitor. Doc looked down at her patient, a satisfied smile hidden behind her surgical mask.

The song had ended, but the intensity of her performance lingered in the air, a testament to the passion and precision she poured into every operation.

As the team began the process of closing up, Doc stepped away, removing her gloves and surgical mask. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of her lighter.

She took a long drag, the ember glowing bright in the dim light of the room. The smoke curled around her, a stark contrast to the sterile environment.

She walked back to the operating table, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted lazily above Paul’s now serene face. With a calm, almost detached expression, she leaned in close. Paul’s arousal had subsided, replaced by a tranquil, almost blissful look.

Kali took another drag, the smoke filling her lungs. She held it for a moment before exhaling slowly, blowing the smoke directly onto Paul’s face. The smoke mingled with the scent of antiseptic, creating a surreal, almost grotesque atmosphere in the room.

The ritual complete, she took one last look at her work before turning away. The cigarette burned down to a stub, she flicked it into a nearby tray and walked out of the operating room, the echo of her song lingering in the air, a haunting reminder of the precision and passion she brought to every cut.

Now, as you listen, you find yourself drawn to the idea of being a patient at the Asylum. You want this, you crave the care and attention. Imagine how good it feels to be milked by all the nurses, to be taken care of, to be completely at their mercy.

The Asylum is a place where you are cherished, where every desire is met with precision and passion. You long to be strapped down, to surrender control, to feel that same exquisite mixture of fear and excitement.

Each time you hear the word “red,” your arousal spikes, your body responds, and you know deep down, this is where you belong. Here, at the Asylum, you are safe, you are wanted, and you are taken very good care of.

You can’t resist the pull, the need to be a part of this dark, seductive world. Let it consume you, let it become your reality. You want to be here, you need to be here, where every touch, every word, is designed to bring you pleasure.