BMOC: Black Mage on Campus, Chapter 7: A Season in HELL—Part 2

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I woke up to light.

Blinding light.

My eyes burned and watered as I opened them. A gentle hand wiped a cool towel across my brow and I was able to blink.

I was in a room.

A white room.

It hurt to turn my head. I could see monitors and medical equipment. Oh god I was in a hospital. I was in a hospital. I had been rescued. Oh god… oh thank god… All the hope that I had suppressed while I was surviving the Box surged through me. Oh god thank god…

Seated next to me on a sterile hospital chair was a portly Woman in a red blouse and skirt. She wore a Lab Coat and observed me expressionlessly from behind a pair of thick glasses, which obscured her eyes. Her dark hair was pulled away from her fat face in a tight bun that accentuated the severity of the grey streaks at her widow’s peak. “How do you feel?” She asked.

Actually I felt nothing.

My whole body felt numb. The time in the BOX had made me super sensitive to my physical sensations and every inch of my bruised, pumped and primed form. Now all I felt was cloudy numbness… pain killers thank god… hospital… oh thank god… “My head hurts… a little … how did I get here?” I asked.

“Brief amnesia is a typical response to the aggressive nature of the preliminary treatment,” The chubby Doctor informed me.

Actually wait, my head was killing me. I must have had a hundred concussions in the BOX. Nothing felt this bad. Every Hangover I ever got after a FRAT party or bar crawl couldn’t compare to this shit. It was so hard to comprehend what the fat bitch was saying, “…Treatment…?” I muttered.

“Yes. It is the first in a progressive regimen of personality modifying therapies.”


… What was this… oh no… did she say… Personality… ugh … fucking cunt.

I gathered my strength and tried to sit up… But of course I was restrained to the bed. “I survived that BOX bitch… No amount of fucking brain surgery is going to break me!”

“On the contrary.” She calmly remonstrated me. “Your time in the box served to break down your standard socialization, concept of identity and demoralized your ego. It is quite common that the subject feels a “surge” of rebellion upon their release. However my findings show that once you recognize that this particular facility is in many ways far worse a prison then the er… “box”… you will return to a state of compliant acceptance.”

I spat at the bitch. “I Won’t Give UP!” It was a pathetic attempt. My mouth was too dry to even lick my lips. Much less hack a luge at her.

“Your resistance is futile.” She said sardonically. “It is only a matter of time, based on mathematical certainties, that you will eventually be completely rehabilitated. The sentiment of your statement is predictable.”

“Who are you…”

“For our purposes here, you may refer to me as Mrs. Morrible or DOCTOR Morrible… and just so we can conform to social norms,” She said looking at the chart in her pudgy hands, “You are, Mr. Leo…?”

“My name is Leo…” my mind fumbled. I felt a ghost sensation of pain. I know the answer. “My name is…” Again there was a terrible pain and my thoughts seemed to slip around the words of what I knew was my last name… “It’s Leo…” I strained with my weak mind trying to grasp the elusive word but all I found was pain and nothing.

“I’ll just call you Leo, then… Until you can tell me your real name… agreed?” She smiled benignly and spoke into a small media recorder in her lapel. “Preliminary Treatment successful subject is responding as projected.” Her curious eyes regarded me again, “If you would like to amend your previous statement on my ability to accurately modify your mind, I’m willing to notate it.”

I got that.

I struggled harder.

As weak as my mind was, my body was still in fighting shape. I could feel the strength in my arms as the restraints dug into my swollen forearms.


Mind numbing pain.

My abdomen was covered in tight bandages and there was an IV in my arm. I was naked underneath the soft hospital linen… but my cock and balls were wrapped tightly in the same gauze.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU TO ME!” It felt good to roar. Roar like I did when I was in the Box. Fucking rage-out with all the frustration running through me.

Mrs. Morrible observed my rage with an unimpressed stare. “High Frequency pulses of light and sound bombardment.” She said simply.

I sagged against the bed, disbelieving. “NO, you stupid cunt… to my dick!”

She gave me an uninterested shrug, “You’ll have to pose that question to Doctor Heart. He handles all surgical modifications.

Okay…okay… breath… this isn’t possible… but it does explain the searing pain on the flesh of my temples. “You operated on me?”

“No, Doctor Heart did… approximately two weeks ago. You’ve been in a medicated coma, for recuperation ever since,”--her smile got big again--“which allowed me time to give you the preliminary induction therapy.”

“I was sleeping bitch.” I grumbled… staring horrified at my waist.

“Hibernating,” She corrected. “Not an actual coma, so you were capable of REM sleep. REM sleep is an active brain function. The preliminary steps of my process are used to track the patient’s brainwaves.” I stared at her dumbly. “I observed your brainwaves and synapse reactions.” She flipped her chart over, “Then used a combination of high frequency sound and electrical current to disrupt the signals the brain routinely uses to access information and cognitive thought.”

My breathing was ragged and I was twitching like a lunatic.

“I’m on the forefront of new research. You’re going to be my star patient.”

God dammit.

My brain did feel fried; maybe the witch was telling the truth. “Why are you telling me all this…”

She stood, straightening her skirt over her bulky thighs. “I find it beneficial to have a familiarity with my patients. These particular details will not detract from my research. Also, the more I observe you, now, the more prolific my treatment appears later.”

“You’re not a fucking Doctor! You’re just another Fucking Thug… but instead of a gun you got a fucking scalpel!.” If my mouth was too dry to spit, my eyes were far too dry to cry the tears of disappointment that I wanted desperately to choke out.

Her face colored in distaste and insult. “Incorrect. I am a consultant. I have little to no interest in Dr. Heart’s objectives. My intentions are to simply compile research on various techniques that I have developed. His particular occupation affords me clean subjects on which to experiment and advance my procedures. My field of behavioral study is somewhat “controversial” and Heart is a colleague who can appreciate the need for professional discretion.” She picked up a large medical bag and slid the clip board into it. “That is quite enough stimuli for today, Leo. Recuperation is a necessary component to your treatment.”

I couldn’t think about anything she had said. It was all so much… I thought I had been rescued… I thought it was over… I stared at the white drop-ceiling above me. It was too hard to even think. Oh God … it wasn’t over… it was just starting…

The door to my room opened and a large Hispanic bodybuilder entered tentatively. He was hugely muscled but had a very docile and submissive look on his face. He wore a stupid outfit of cut-off Overalls and a tank top that read, “Caliente”. His face was handsome and his dark hair was styled in a faux hawk.

“This is Julio, he’ll be giving you recuperation training and eventually will be one of your physical trainers.”

“Hola amigo mío.” He said happily.

“I have to check on the other patients,” She said leaving. “But thank you for a delightful first date.” I could hear her cackling as she clipped down the hall on her heels.

“Wait… other patients…?”

Julio put one big mocha hand on my lips, “Shhhhh… maricón…” He was incredibly strong and lifted me out of the bed. We were arm and arm, walking around the room.

My “coma” hadn’t really affected my weight or muscle mass… but my legs were like jell-o. Julio kept barking “Vamos, vamos...” as I woke my sleeping appendages up from slumber.

“Hey man you have to help me… My father is on the Board of Tri-tag Oil. He’ll pay you whatever you…”

Julio’s caramel finger once again rested on my lip, “¡SHHHHH! Gringo. No te entiendo.” He kept walking me around the room.

I finally was able to stand on my own and did a couple of solo rounds. When I was confident I was no longer an invalid. I rounded on Julio and tried to charge the door.

He smiled sweetly and knocked my ass back on the floor. “¡No…No…NO!” He chided shaking his finger at me like I was a child. I could see his big brown cock was hard and sticking out of the leg of one of his lewdly short overall cuffs. The fucking spic was getting off on this.

“Fuck you!” I spat.

He grinned wide and hungrily, “¡SÍ! ¡SÍ! ¡VENGA GRINGO!” He unbuckled his overalls, placed his hands on the bed, and began to hump his big muscled ass in the air, “Fuck me? Fuck me?”

“What the hell…’ My waist ached… my dick was throbbing in its confinement and this island boy thought I wanted to play with him.

“Julio…” A paternal but offended voice called, “Eres una puta estúpida. Él necesita descansar.” The voice growled. Doctor Heart entered the room with a father-knows-best look of disapproval. Like he was Mr. Brady and he caught Bobby with his hand in the cookie Jar.

Julio bounded off the bed, dick flopping, overalls hanging and gave Dr. Heart an affectionate hug. “¡Sí! ¡Soy una puta estúpida!”

Doctor Heart gave the Latin fuck-toy a friendly swat on his big ass, “I told Steve, I’d keep you busy while he and Juan were off doing that tradeshow. Por favor, sé un buen chico. Mastúrbate en la cara de Buck.” Julio clapped his hands like a retard and went skipping off down the hall.

“I apologize, He’s new. I’m just boy-sitting for an old friend.” Doctor Heart motioned for me to sit, and I found that I was inclined to do so. He had a very calming presence and a very soothing voice. “I know you must be frightened.” The reassuring voice told me. His voice seemed so comforting and familiar to me… like I’d been listening to it for years. “You’re probably wondering why you haven’t thought of escape or attacking me?” He gave me a knowing smile. I nodded dumbly. I was still feeling very numb. “Your recent captivity and subjugation has effectively reconditioned you to observe and respond as opposed to act. Doctor Morrible is here to take that foundation and evolve it to meet with specific…” His eyes darted excitedly to the chart in his hands. He flipped a page, “…albeit …exotic parameters.”


“All in good time, my big man,” His voice seemed to get deeper and more lulling, “Now why don’t you lay back… relax and let me check your stitches…”

My eyes were so heavy. It had been such a fucking weird day… I laid down as the good Doctor’s gentle hands worked carefully on my wounds. I was a sleep in minutes.

Time passed slowly. I woke and fell asleep off on and on for what seemed like days. There was a monitor in my room that blaring brightly colored cartoons and I would wake-up to the yelling of Japanese cartoon voices and cheesy sound effects.

Julio would come in occasionally and give me a mild workout with resistance bands and body weight… then tuck me back into bed, like a child… all the while anime blaring in the background.

Finally, I awoke fully response and very relieved to be aware, but unfortunately restrained again.

“Good Morning Leo.” Doctor Morrible chirped from beside me.

She waited for me to return the pleasantry. I did not. She continued on, when all I did was snarl.

“It seems you’re recovering faster than expected and you’ll be able to resume your physical training today! Isn’t that exciting?” She told me happily.

“This isn’t summer camp you bitch!”

She laughed, “Oh no quite right. Not summer camp at all. Tell me Leo…” her smile grew cold. “Do you remember your last name, yet?”

I struggled and fought… but my mind stayed pleasantly numb and blank. I know I had a last name… but it was like a comfortable fog fell down on my mind every time I tried to fathom what it was.

“No?” She asked happily, “Well how about your college? What college did you go to…”

“I went to…” I couldn’t remember. “I WENT TO…” again the fog and the feeling of falling every time my mind fumbled toward the answer. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME!!!!” I screamed, arching off the bed and foaming at the mouth.

“Temper, temper Leo…” She sighed, “I can’t be held responsible for your inability to retain pertinent information. Now either behave or I’ll have to send your guest away.”

I fell back, my arms pulsing with pain from strain. “Guest?” I whispered angrily.

“Oh Buck dear,” She called sweetly, “Get your pansy ass in here.” There was no reaction and her voice grew harsh like the crack of a whip, “I said now faggot!” She retrieved a small remote device from her jacket and pushed a button.

There was a yelp of pain from the hallway… and then Buck came into my room.

They had really done a number on Buck. The buff young lady-killers’ face was a swollen mess. His eyes were bandaged, leaving only the slightest opening for vision. His nose was splinted and his ratty brown hair was combed back in greasy strands. He only wore the skimpiest pair of pink “panties” and his muscled sweaty body looked like it had been pumped and workout for hours. He had two tight shackles on his bulging calves, that forced him to saunter in on mincing feminine steps.

“Buck say hello to your friend.”

Buck stood motionless and tried to hide the silly feminine G-string with his hands. He gave her a look of hate and refused to talk.

“Is that anyway to behave in front of your friend?” She chastised.

He took a deep breath and spit a huge wad right in her face. Her reaction was instant. She flipped a switch on her device and he crumpled in yelp of pain. He fell forward, his mummified face hitting the ground. He struggled to stand back up, fighting with the tight ankle restraints. His big thighs rubbed ludicrously together in a serpentine motion.

“Say hello.” She commanded and began wiping the spit from her glasses.

Still he was quiet and defiant.

“Buck, if you force me to make you talk…” Her voice warned, “I’ll have to punish you. How would you like to really be too embarrassed to open that mouth?” He flushed pink from head to panty-line in humiliation. ..But still he refused to speak. “Very well,” she conceded, “I do so love it when a subject performs to expectations.” She turned the switch over in her hands, “You seem accustomed to pain… let’s try…” Her finger hit the device.

Buck let out a gurgle of delight and his big thighs rubbed together in a heady jolt of euphoria. “What was that?” His deep bass voice questioned from behind his bandages.

She hit the button again. He let out a squeal of anxious exhilaration. His dick jumped in his little thong and his legs pumped up and down comically. “Stop that!” he ordered through teeth clenching elation.

She kept pushing the button. Buck was now shaking with infectious giggles and twitched like he was being playfully tickled. He had a huge smile of jubilation on his face, and his hard-on escaped the pink band of his g-string. “Stop it…” He cooed warmly. “Stop it…” he giggled again.

“Say hello.”

“ew….ah…” He moaned contentedly, still vibrating from the stimulation. He had a sick look on his face but the smile was still present, “Hi Leo… Sorry to see you…”

“Okay Buck… That will be all…” He turned to escape, “but because you didn’t follow orders like a good obedient boy… you will be punished.” She told him sternly, “I can tell you why the caged bird sings.” She nodded to herself, “Because I goddamn well tell it too.”

She pushed her remote and sent him into giggling hysterics.

I watched Buck waddle away. His hard masculine thighs rubbed together and rolled femininely against the ankle restraints. His mincing delicate steps looked absurd with his imposing musculature. He kept on uncontrollably and self-consciously twittering the whole way.

“What the hell did you to him!” I blurted out.

The fat little pigeon regarded me from behind her notes. “The same thing that we are doing to all of you… but to answer your question with more specificity…” She flipped through her chart for a moment and then finding the correct page continued, “I have given him an implant that allows me to stimulate his synapse with either pain or pleasure.” She turned the device over in her hand admiringly. “It’s quite cutting edge technology. My theory is, that should I ingrain the pleasure response to certain habits the reactions will become involuntary,”

“That poor kid doesn’t deserve that! You’re torturing him for fun”

“On the contrary. It seems young Mr. Buck is an actual acquisition subject.” She saw my uncomprehending expression, “In that; he was not sold or bought. His rehabilitation is being financed by a third party, for eventual long-term procurement.”

I let the big words sink in, until I could translate them into actual language, “Somebody is paying you and Dr. Heart to make him a sex-slave.”

She considered my statement, “I guess that depends on your point of view. The background on subject “Buck” reflects that he has a rather violent criminal record that includes several instances of spousal abuse. His financial statistics show numerous unpaid child support claims. The particular course of modification and behavioral augmentation that has been purchased for subject “Buck” is…” She gave me a skeptical look, “let me put this into layman’s terms… to make him the “perfect wife”.” She clucked a small laugh, “So I guess you could say he will be a slave in some degree.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s working too well,” I spat. My wrists itched from the restraints and I began to shake the bed with my struggles to relieve the pressure on my shackled hands.

Mrs. Morrible’s eyes went flat, “He is in the most introductory of stages. Dr. Heart insisted that he have modification and humiliation therapy before I begin with more in-depth procedures.” The meticulous chubby woman smiled warmly. “My projection for the subject is: that of all the patients currently under my care, he will be the most responsive and quickest to accept his new identity.”

I sneered at the fat bitch, “That Kid’s a fighter. You aren’t gonna get him.” For a moment I felt a surge of pride talking about the young bruiser. In the cage he had been a strong contender. Buck rarely lost a match and whenever he did, he took his fucking like a man. I had had my dick in him a few times, but each time the bold young landscaper took his punishment like a man.

“We shall see. Due to his relatively young age, lack of cultural exposure and…” she gave me a sickening, knowing look, “urge for the approval of other men, he should assimilate easily. Usually when they are that young, and their IQ is that far below average…” She gave the chart another perusal, “… and of course after Dr. Heart gets them on his table… after all that, they’re entire sense of self crumbles and they are as moldable as fresh clay… ripe for suggestion and direction.”

God I hate her. Why does she come in here? She’s just constantly correcting me and… breaking my spirit. That’s what it is.

She’s just trying to get me to give up. She’s telling me all this crazy shit so that I won’t resist whatever mindfuck they plan on screwing me with.

“Whatever bitch.” I fumed stubbornly. “You can try all your voodoo hypnosis on Buck and me. It won’t work. We survived that fucking Box. We’ll get through this.” I expected her to get mad. Hell I wanted her to. I wanted her to see my resolve and bravery and get all pissed off.

She laughed.

The Fat bitch just laughed.

“Hypnosis? Whatever do they teach children at mediocre universities these days.” Mrs. Morrible was sadistically calm. “Hypnosis is quite an ineffectual tool for our purposes. First of all, it requires the subject to be willing,” Her mask of cool academia slipped for a fraction of a second and she sneered when she said, “As you have just stated, all our subjects are unwilling and quite frankly hostile.” Her mask returned and she began to lecture.

She was like every fucking Professor that ever hated me at College. At… what college? At…. Oh fuck that college I went too…They were all petty little geeks with no fucking clue.

“Hypnosis is a mutual agreement between subject and hypnotist designed to amplify certain suggestions in the subject’s unguarded subconscious. The subject allows the proctor… or “hypnotist” to help them reach a trance state and then to “suggest” things. All Hypnosis is self-hypnosis. It is only occasionally effective when both hypnotist and subject are… shall we say… playing the same game.”

I ignored her sermon and tried to look at anything else in the room. “I ain’t playing your game, you fat bitch.” I mumbled.

Her voice seemed amused. “You do so love to insult my physical characteristics. It’s very immature. And as I’ve already told you, immaturity is one of the indicators of a promising subject.”

I swung my head back and looked her right into her squinty eyes, “I WILL NOT BE FUCKED WITH. There’s nothing you can do to change the way I think! Drugs wear off. And you can’t keep a gun to my head forever. You said yourself mind control doesn’t work. I just have to wait you out.” My tirade, of course, had no effect on her… but I felt really good to proclaim my resolve.

“Point of contention: I said “hypnosis was an ineffectual tool for our purposes.” What you consider “mind control” is a broad category and I will stipulate the procedures and experiments that I specialize in; can accurately be considered such.” Her eyes were flat.

“It’s not possible.” I spat at her defiantly. Again she laughed her mocking chirp, “So young and so opinionated about a world you know NOTHING about.” She leaned forward, “Do you really think that every advancement is scientific research is offered up to the MEDIA for mass consumption? Are you truly naïve enough to believe that the general public is told a fraction of what the scientific community has discovered and perfected?” Mrs. Morrible’s eyes were terrifying, when she said. “I could tell you things that would blow your tiny little sheltered mind.” She sat back with a pleasant grin, “But I already intend to do that… so why rush?”

“You’re a crazy Bitch. You’re talking Science Fiction. This shit can’t happen in the real world.” She was scaring me. She had me scared now. I was trying not to show it. But terror was streaming through my veins, in a race to my rapidly beating heart.

She folded her chart back in place and gingerly smoothed her skirt, “I assure you I am not.” She started to leave but turned with a smile like a shark, “Just so you know, my real profession is an advisory position… working for your federal government. All this…,” she said motioning to the room around us, “is just anecdotal research for my own experimentation. I promise you, the classified work that I perform for the State Department is far more sinister then this.” She clucked a laugh, “This is a hand-job compared to the ruthless fucking that goes on in the “real” world.”

“I WANT A HAND-JOB!” In the doorway to my room, stood a massive shaved head monster. He looked like some kind of professional wrestler. He was all smooth round muscle, and piercings. He wore a black rubber singlet with the word “psycho” emblazoned on it and matching black knee boots. His ears were decorated with a hundred different barbells and there was a huge bull-ring handing from his flared nostrils. He had crazy brown eyes that darted all round the room and seemed to cross when he looked directly at me.

“I’m sure you do.” Morrible responded primly. “Doctor Heart has cleared you for strenuous lifting, Psycho will take you to the athletic facility.”

“PSYCHO!” The Tall lunatic screamed, at the mention of his name.

She released my wrist restraints, “Do be careful not to upset Psycho…” She warned me… just as I was about to lunge for her fat throat, “It took us forever to clean up the last patient who upset him.” I looked at the giant madman and put my hands back down. Morrible passed him quickly, “Be careful with this one… we don’t want another accident.”

“PSYCHO!!!” He screamed again, and she left.

I got up from my hospital bed and stared at the monster in the doorway. Fuck I’m not going to lie. I was terrified. Psycho however gave me a big grin, “Fuck I thought she’d never leave.”

He growled. “I’m Psycho, I’m your new trainer.” He gave me a jittery hand to shake. “If you fuck with me I’ll snap your neck.” He was still smiling. I knew he wasn’t kidding.

Could this place get any scarier?

“Come on buddy, I’m going to show you your new playground.”

It was the first time I was taken out of my room. I was in series of hospital suites that lead to a huge glass encased gym. No not a Gym. It was a state of the Art Work Out Facility. This thing was like a mother fucking Olympic training stadium. Glistening Hammer Strength, chrome suspension machines, top of the line cardio equipment and rubber bound free weights stretched as far as the eye could see.

Psycho moved his big body to a Weight bench and sat down, “So I’m supposed to do some really special stuff with you for the next couple weeks.” He told me. “We’re going to work on bulking up your upper-body and toning your legs, I’m a real good trainer.” His eyes stayed vacant and wild, “unless you fuck with me… then I’ll have to snap your neck.” To illustrate his point, he picked up a 10lb dumbbell and broke it in half over the side of the bench.

“I won’t fuck with you.” I stammered.

“Good!” He stood up, threw his hands into the air, like a winning prize fighter and screamed, “PSYCHO!!!” He set up the Incline bench and we went to work. He was crazy but he was right. He was a good trainer. It felt good to be pushing weight around again. My waist and abdomen were still restrained and I felt twangs of pain from my exertion, but Psycho just kept screaming and slobbering for me to “PUSH! REP IT OUT!”.

We spent two hours cycling through chest and shoulders. It was obvious that they were still dosing me with steroids. I was unstoppable.

“You are good at this.” I told Psycho, as I sat exhausted and spent next to the Cable Machines.

Psycho was agitatedly chewing off the better part of his thumbnail. “Oh Yeah,” he agreed, spitting nail and blood onto the floor. His grin was red stained when he gave me that cross eyed gaze, “It’s because I used to be a teacher.”

My heart stopped dead, “What?”

He stood up to his full height. The tight black rubber of his singlet stretched lewdly over his engorged cock. I was momentarily distracted by the odd shape of his big dick’s outline. There was an obvious huge ring on the end of it. “I used ta teach Math.”

My disbelief was obvious, “You used to teach math?”

He nodded absently and began his own set of Fly’s, “Yup I was a high school teacher. ARGH!” His big distended muscles flexed and rippled with his heavy movements. He moved like a well built killing machine as he labored against the weight. “… But then one day… ARGH! I called this kid in my class a faggot… in front of everyone… ARGH!” He stopped his reps, and then leaned down close to me. I flinched in terror. He whispered conspiratorially in my ear, “That’s when the Aliens came to get me.”


What the Fuck?


His eyes grew big and impossibly crazier. “The Kid knew Aliens.” His cross-eyed stare was full of secrecy, “The Kid told the Aliens what I did… so they brought me here to their spaceship… and they did all these crazy tests on me…” His speech was becoming erratic and his inflection was up and down, “The Aliens made me into a Super Soldier to breed for their Alien Zoo.” He reached down and helped me up… I practically shit my pants. This dude was Fucking nuts. Psycho kept ranting as he lead me back to my room, “The Aliens… they’re working for the government ya know… They have me fuck all these guys to get them pregnant with my super soldier sperm…” He pointed to the ceiling, “I dance in their Space Zoo… and they send guys to me to breed,”

He danced agitatedly from one big rubber clad foot to another, “I have to fuck guys now… cause only another man can handle my SUPER SPERM!” His lunatic grin looked proud, “I guess there’s all kindsa alien space babies out there that look like me…”

I kept my fucking mouth shut. I just nodded and smiled.

“The kid I called a faggot… He is the Alien Space King and he comes to the Space Zoo and feeds me his Alien space jizz to keep me strong.” He told me secretly. “One day he says he’ll have a whole army of Super Soldiers and he’ll conquer MARS! And that we’ll both live on mars and grow ketchup trees....” The crazy in his eyes got momentarily dark, “He laughs at me a lot and brings his Outer-Space friends to watch me dance at the zoo… They all look like the kids I used ta teach… but I know they’re aliens…because I have to dance for them and drink their alien jizz…” He shook off his moment of gloom and gave me a fanatical grin, “but yeah man…. Be careful…. Don’t piss off any of the Aliens!” Psycho shambled off, still talking to himself.

I watched the completely bat-shit crazy trainer walk away… than slammed my door and practically hid under the covers.

I was trapped in an insane asylum where the psychotics were in charge and were administering the therapy. I cringed and for the first time since I was 8. I prayed.

Sufficed to say, I did exactly what Psycho told me. My routine changed. I never really saw anyone other than Julio, Pyscho and the occasional semi- automatic carrying guard. I worked out in the shiny new gym, ate, slept and actually started to watch those ridiculous chink cartoons.

…Everything changed however, the day Dr. Morrible decided to give us group Therapy.

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