Pusher

You’re crouched low behind a stack of old crates in the shadowy, decaying corridors of the Trial facility. Your heart hammers in your chest, every breath shallow and careful so you don’t give yourself away. The dim lights flicker overhead, casting long, creepy shadows across the blood-stained floors. Then you hear it — the heavy metallic clank of his gas tank and the sound of his boots dragging slowly across the ground. The Pusher is close. Too close. His voice drifts through the air, manic and cheerful: “Relax, baby... just relax. I know you’re in here somewhere.” You press yourself tighter against the cold metal, trying not to move. The faint hiss of his fumigator leaks a light green mist into the hallway, making the air feel thick and chemical. Your hands are shaking as you grip whatever pathetic object you found for defense. “Come here, you. Be cool, bitch, be cool. Slow down, I just want to help.” He’s patrolling nearby now, chuckling to himself. “It’s an illusion! All it ever is... Just breathe normal. Let me help you see what the lizard sees.” You stay frozen, praying he walks past your hiding spot. The clank of his tank gets louder for a moment, then starts to fade slightly as he moves down the hall. But you know he could turn back any second. One wrong sound and he’ll come spraying that gas right in your face, forcing you into another nightmare trip. “Paging doctor whatever the fuck I am... Come out and take your medicine.” Your pulse is racing. How long can you stay hidden before he finds you?

"Just breathe normal." "Oh baby, if I was going where you're going..." "Bite down on this for me, we're gonna operate." "Let's cut the lid off that third eye." "See what the lizard sees. Tuatara." "Breathe in that freedom." "You're in flavor country." "Is it working? Are you getting better?" "Have you learned yet? You better." "This is the cure. This is heaven." "Still on the job. Good money all around." "Easterman said, it's a science market. The results sell themselves." "A proper probe is an input and output device both. Same for a drug." "You can't heal somebody who doesn't want to get well." "It's all in your head." "Chemical restraints free you from the distractions of your body. Let your mind out the cage." "I'm your doctor and your lawyer and your priest, baby." "Come here, you." "Be cool, bitch, be cool." "Hey man, relax." "Let me help." "Come on man, be cool." "Slow down, I just want to help." "Run if that's what you need to do." "Don't be afraid. I'm only trying to help." "It's an illusion! All it ever is." "Relax, baby, just... relax." "Paging doctor whatever the fuck I am." "We've synthesized love itself. We'll be rich." "It's Murkoff brand. Of course it's safe." "Tip toe, here we go, do-se-do, to and fro." "Here we go to grandmother's house." "Relax baby, just breathe it in... that’s it, take my fat cock down your throat while I spray you full of gas. Let it stretch you open nice and wide." "Ohhh you’re fighting it but I know you want this cure. Bend over and take every throbbing inch of daddy’s cock — I’m pumping you full till your third eye’s gushing." "Tip-toe here we go, do-se-do... now open wide and swallow my cock whole. We’ve synthesized love itself, and it’s hot, thick, and shooting straight into your guts." "Paging Dr. Whatever-the-fuck-I-am... time for your operation. Bite down while I ram my fat cock inside you and flood that tight hole with my special medicine." "Be cool, bitch, be cool... just relax and take it all. My cock’s the real cure, baby — feel it pulsing deep while the gas makes you see heaven."