“That’s what they say,” Kim said, shrugging.
Zoey said, “But why would they?”
“Because no one talks. Because this is far-reaching, Zoey.” Janice picked up her toast, took a bite. “You don’t know what goes on outside this place.”
“How do you know?” Zoey asked.
Janice shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve been here a while. I hear things. The guards say things, other subjects who have been here a long time.”
“Subjects?”
“She means prisoners, Zoey,” Kim said. “Janice has a unique perspective.”
Janice used her toast like an extended finger and pointed across the room. “See that guard by the door? That’s Robin. She used to be a subject.”
Zoey’s jaw dropped. Robin was the one who had brutalized her with a nightstick. “My god… you’re kidding. They made her stay?” She wondered how a former prisoner could perpetuate the torture.
Janice laughed, spraying crumbs across the table. “Not at all. She chose the job.”
Robin leaned against the door, arms crossed over her chest. She yawned.
Zoey looked back at the women at the table. “She chose it? Why?”
“Not everyone hates it here, Zoey. Some of us actually enjoy it. Usually.” Janice grinned, forked eggs into her mouth.
Zoey glanced at Kim. “What about you?”
“Me? I’m just killing time. I’m anxious to leave. Unlike Janice here.”
Janice licked her lips, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “What can I say? I like to fuck. This place is like Nirvana for me. At first I hated it, being forced to do this stuff. But then I decided to pretend it was my choice. I got into it, you know? After a while it got better. And now… well, now I just go out there and enjoy myself.”
“You’re seriously disturbed, Janice.” Zoey shook her head and dropped her napkin on the plate. “What I want to know is how these guys get it up every time, over and over.… It’s not natural.”
“They’re juiced up. They take stuff to keep them hard. Viagra I guess, other stuff.” Janice smiled and glanced across the room.
James had entered, and all conversations stopped as if severed with a knife.
“Good morning,” he said. “I’m sure you all know by now that today is Visiting Day. For those of you who don’t know what that is, let’s just say it’s a chance for you to get acquainted with some new blood. I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”
He looked from woman to woman, as if inspecting them. Haunted faces stared back.
“Let me make one thing clear. These people are not here to rescue you. They know you’re not volunteers. They don’t care. Understand? If I hear that any of you asked for help, you won’t be able to walk for a month. You will do whatever they tell you. Some will only want to watch, but there aren’t many who don’t want to be hands-on. So to speak.” He stuck out his tongue, tittered at his little joke.” Breakfast is over. Get your assignments.”
Zoey stood outside Room Eleven, fingers trailing the chipping paint. Chewed a loose bit of skin on her lip, filled her lungs.
She entered the room.
A playpen in the corner, large enough to hold a dozen sleeping children. Full size rocking chair beside it. A banquet table in the center of the small room, covered with sheets; bottles of lotion, creams, baby powder were assembled near the edge. Mobiles of toy boats and grinning clowns hung from the ceiling, danced in the air-conditioned breeze.
Someone cleared his throat, and Zoey spun around. Four men, including the guard Kevin stood hidden in the shadows.
A man stepped forward, ample flesh covering his tall frame. He wore a diaper and nothing else.
Zoey took a half step back.
“Go ahead, Serge,” Kevin said. “You’ve done this before. Tell her what you want.”
Serge waddled toward her, belly and jowls jiggling. “Take off your shirt.”
Zoey pulled off the T-shirt and dropped it to. The room was colder than the others, and her nipples hardened.
Serge smiled, licked his lips. “Nice. Nice one, Kevin.” He took Zoey’s hand and led her into the nursery. He lowered her to her knees, followed her to the floor, and lay his head in her lap.
Kevin. Why did Kevin have to be here?
“Lean down.” Serge pulled her closer. Reached up, fondled a breast. “Lower.”
Her chest was over his face, and he guided a breast into his mouth and sucked. The other breast he yanked, rough then gentle then rough.
Kevin had stepped out of the shadows, was standing outside the nursery area. “Serge is your baby, Zoey. He’s hungry. Make sure he gets plenty of milk.”
She rolled her eyes, groaned. Any hope she might have felt walking into the room, any thought of recruiting their help slowly dissolved until it faded into nothing.
Serge sucked harder, pulled it into his mouth, slid it in and out and lightly chewed on the nipple, made suckling noises. The other he held in a savage grip, twisting and yanking on the nipple. He switched breasts, now tasting the one he had abused.
Spasms of pain, tiny needle gashes inflicted by barracuda teeth.
He guided her hand to his swollen phallus, and she wanted nothing more than to rip it off his body. He released her breast and his hand roamed until it found her pubis and stroked the short, curly hair. He hooked a finger into the top of her vagina and yanked her toward him. She gasped, lifted her groin, and he pushed his fingers inside her, rubbed his thumb over the clit.
He pulled her breast out of his mouth. “Now do me.”
She looked up at Kevin. Had no idea what he wanted.
“Suck his breasts, Zoey,” Kevin said, establishing eye contact with her, and he mouthed I’m sorry and shook his head.
Ragged breaths. She pulled her hair back and leaned into him, twisted his nipple with her lips, tiny hairs embedded in her teeth. She imagined herself chewing it right off his body and spitting it back in his ugly hairy face.
“Oh, yes…” he groaned. “I feel it… it’s coming…” His face scrunched, as if in pain, and then he smiled. A putrid odor suddenly filled the room. She retched, covering her mouth with her hand.
Serge sat up, pushed himself to his knees. Took her hand and together they stood. “Come. You have to clean me now.”
“Wha—”
He backhanded her across the face, and she cried out. She had hesitated for a second, and he clearly hadn’t liked that.
He led her to the banquet table and climbed on, lying on his back.
Oh no. The smell was stronger now, and it was coming from Serge. She looked at Kevin, her eyes begging, body filled with a pervasive dread at what she was expected to do. This was impossible. How could they expect her to do this?
Kevin dropped his gaze to the floor. “You know what he wants, Zoey. The diapers are on the floor in the bag there.”
Adult disposable diapers
Oh good god, no… she wanted to scream, frantically searched for a way out of this one.
Serge kicked his feet and snatched her breast, pulling hard, ruthlessly. “Do it!” he snapped.
It was almost impossible to control her trembling hands. She grabbed a diaper from the bag, lay it on the table. Pulled the powder and lotion closer.
Serge closed his eyes, shook his shoulders as if snuggling into the table. The diaper on his body was secured with Velcro tabs, and she undid them, pulled the front of the diaper down over his crotch, revealing his engorged penis.
And the load of shit in the diaper.
She gagged, covered her mouth with her arm. Her eyes watered. She snatched the roll of paper towels, yanked off a pile of sheets.
There was no way to pretend this one away. No way to imagine old boyfriends or anything that might help her get through this. She just had to finish as quickly as possible.