Nurses

This is the journal of a young man named Micah who volunteered for a clinical study that changed his life for good. He never expected to be subjected to such depraved, twisted, and bizarre practices when he went to The Rubber Lab. Day 1 - The Ad The ad read: “Healthy male volunteers needed for 28-day inpatient study. Qualified participants will be compensated up to $20,000, and is free of all federal and state taxes. Participants can’t have a latex allergy. Must inquire within. Mention study 1028” ...

Carnaj now has two books out on Amazon, click here to visit the page where you can view and purchase two books, one containing a short story by him, as well as an actual novella. Both contain bondage. Hopefully you will check them out… A man submits himself as a Ward of the State for a weekend of Stress Relief at a Mental Institution. Due to a clerical foul up he is scheduled for intensive bondage and restraint, more so than he signed off for… ...

continues from part one Rubber Breathing Therapy Continues I could hear myself breathing I was beginning to regain consciousness, I was totally relaxed, a relaxed and calm state that I had never experienced before. The sound of my breathing was intense, I attempted to open my eyes they felt like ton weights and I struggling to focus. I was lying in a hospital bed, I groped at the bed sheets and realised they were made of rubber, I lifted my hand to my face and cupped the oxygen mask I was wearing. I tried hard to focus. I could see curtains drawn all around the bed, I concentrated straining my eyes, they too were made of rubber. Suddenly memories came flooding back, the overwhelming feeling of being suffocated. I began gasping for air, in the panic I unnoticeably pulled the rubber bed sheets over my face. The rubber sheet sucked against the oxygen mask smothering me. “Nurse!” I shouted out in a blind panic. ...

I sat there staring, out of focus, almost subconsciously at the line of traffic in front of me, the same line of traffic I stare at every single day. Sometimes I even think the queuing order of the cars is the same. I recognise number plates and silent strangers also sitting, staring into oblivion, inching along to their mundane 9 to 5’s. I sit there, I feel other drivers cursing me, jealous of me, jealous of the fact that I am sitting in the same queue inching along but I have a better badge staring at them. The badge stares at me from the steering wheel, a badge that the dealer said “would make driving a pleasure“, costing as much as an average mortgage I had high expectations. Do I move any quicker? No. Did it make me feel any better? No. The only thing it gave me is hatred and envy from others for owning this badge. I began to wonder if this was it, was this what life was all about? ...