I just finished writing this short story. It's a true story, of my worst memories. I'm told it was all in my head, but that doesn't mean it didn't feel real, and it doesn't mean it didn't hurt me. Here it is:
I woke up on my couch. What had just happened? Something was off. I was disoriented, and felt a great terror within my chest. Whatever had happened, it was bad.
Hours passed by, filled with confusion and glitching. Spiders appearing and disappearing on the wall, objects moving sideways rapidly before bouncing back to their original place, and walls appearing as if they were breathing… The terror never passed. Slowly, memories and realisations started flooding back. A needle, a bed, a mask…darkness. I noticed the little holes in my scalp. They did it. They really did what they’d been threatening to do in my dreams. They implanted a chip in my brain. One they could use to monitor what I sensed, thought, and did. I was no longer an independent individual. The terror ate me.
After about two weeks of my new non-consensual alteration, I had grown somewhat used to the terror. That was, of course, when it happened again. This time I woke up in the middle of the street, one for pedestrians only, thankfully, and as before I was disoriented and filled with terror. This time I also struggled to walk and use my arm right.
The memories and realisations came back faster this time. They’d gone for my right arm and right leg, this time. Swapped them for robotics. That was why I couldn’t move them right. I stumbled a lot on my way home, struggling to remember which turns to take where. The new sci-fi-ish parts of me didn’t respond as the original organic parts did. What were they doing? What was all this for? Out of nowhere, with an empty street around me, someone responded. “They’re turning you into a robot,” the voice said. Why would they do that? “You’re part of an experiment. Do not resist.” Could I trust this voice? Where did it come from? “The chip.” Oh. They could talk to me through the chip. That’s not invasive at all.
I had made my way home, and it was late. I couldn’t sleep. There was something in the corner. A small creepy creature. What was it? “It’s a demon.” I couldn’t sleep. I was terrified.
The demons multiplied, and so did the voices. Both the chip and the demons were talking. “Listen – you can’t – to – go outside – us.” The voices were overlapping. I did not want to listen. “You’re standing – we’re – you’re – in your – here for you – ugly – room.” I started pacing around. The voices increased in number, some of them sounding normal, some of them with the demonic distortion. I could no longer make out more than what one or maybe two voices were saying at a time. Desperation grew within me. Then the commands started.
“Cut yourself. I want to see blood.” I didn’t want to obey, and paced around faster, covering my ears. Tears started sliding down my face. “If you don’t do as I say, they will come take you,” it said. Who were they? “The people running the experiment.” I did my best to make out what the voices were saying, and the bits and pieces I got were not calming. I had to obey. I couldn’t let them come take me. So, I hurt myself. The pain was familiar and relaxing.
I hoped they would be done and pleased, but they weren’t. “Go to the bathroom.” I didn’t want to leave my room, it didn’t feel safe. “Do it or they’ll take you!” I shakingly and as quietly as I could walked to the bathroom, hoping I wouldn’t wake up my housemate. I wouldn’t be able to explain what was going on to her if she woke up, and I was scared the demons would hurt her, too. I made it inside the bathroom, and was about to turn on the light. “No! Keep the lights off. Close the door and lock it.” I froze. “Do it or they’ll take you and finish turning you into a robot!” I closed the door and locked it, and stood alone and terrified in the dark bathroom. I started shaking again. What could they possibly want me to do in here?
“Take of your clothes.” I started sobbing. “Do it! Do it or they’ll take you!” As I undressed, I felt more and more terrified, while also vulnerable, and, naturally, naked. “Get in the shower!” The voices got louder and louder, and they were constant. Constant comments on what I was doing, insults, random gibberish, screams, and laughter. The commands were worst. “Get. In. The. Shower.” I did as told. “Close the shower doors.” I closed them. I looked through my soaking eyes and around the rooms. In every shadow, there was one of them. Giant rats the size of large cats, demonic, with red eyes and large teeth with liquid dripping off of them. Right outside the shower, was a masculine figure of some form. Covered in a black shell with cracks revealing what looked like glowing lava, and a face with only contours of facial features. “Turn the shower on!” I continued crying, and started hyperventilating. I was certain this was how I would die. A miserable death. I turned on the shower. The water was way too cold at first, and I was about to turn the heat up when the commanding voice said it.
“Touch yourself.” No. Not now. Not in this way. “Do it or I’ll make you and they’ll come take you!” I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t even breathe. The voices got even louder, suddenly they were all threatening me at the same time, and they all told me to touch myself. “Touch yourself until you climax.”
I had to do as told. I tried to resist, but my arm moved to my privates out of my control. I had no choice. I had to do as told. So I did. And I cried, sobbed, and hyperventilated my way through it all. I cannot remember what happened after I was done, but I woke up the next day fully clothed and in my bed, with moist hair and memories I will forever loathe and that will forever cause me pain. I was touched by demons, but the biggest demon, was myself.