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i see a clinic full of cynics
who want to twist the people's wrist
they're watching every move we make
we're all included on the list

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This fictional advertisement is of an adult nature and instances described within it may be disturbing and offensive to some readers. Proceed with this warning heeded.

Wesswick 1882

Some begin at the beginning, while others begin at the end. Some start in little towns, some just.. disappear forever without so much as a hello, goodbye, nice knowing you. Apple pies and fire-lit hearths are nothing to warm the cockles of a spirit gone bad. The very love of the place has been desensitized.

If only the town of Wesswick were so warm and welcoming, a gentle hello uttered by demure women. The citizens of Wesswick are demure alright, they hide behind a facade of bonnets, dressing gowns, horse and buggy, cigars and delightful children that run rampant through the streets while business is tended to behind doors and on sidewalks. The men and women pretend nothing is amiss, going about their day as if nothing is happening up the hill and through the woods. That sunny lane is a harbor of deceit, the Father of Lies guards the place himself.. or so it is rumored.

Up that sunny lane resides a rather quirky stretch of land, and upon its breast rests an Asylum that holds dear to it.. such inhabitants of all ilks and creeds. The patients: Savages from across the sea, Beautiful cannibals, Hulking men and those that are meek as mice. And then there are the staff, those whom have something just as wrong with them as the patients.. Most of them hide behind plastic smiles, bewitching eyes and a nursing license.

And then.. the good Doctor Murden. One whom would move all of Heaven and Hell if only to keep the terrible secrets that lie beneath the slats of the Asylum. Can one thing never go right in such a bestial place? Oh, the sun shines brightly upon its carefully manicured grounds.. But the sun can never touch what lies beneath, and it would seem.. it would never touch the hearts of those tortured at his hands, and the hands of his most trusted. They too become desensitized.

the lunatics have taken over the asylum
the lunatics have taken over the asylum

Those who enter the program rarely come out. Much like the revered patient known forever as Mister Snow. Patient Number 0998 was the perfect candidate for the Desensitization Program, quite the vicious rapist. How docile he became after the last test.. that is.. after he died.

Let's take a look at how his last hours were spent, shall we?

"Mister Snow," the Doctor says, his voice holding a curious if cold tone, like metal instruments meant to ruin as they discover. "No good morning?" he questions and puts his clipboard down before walking around the chair to stand in front of his patient. "Maybe we should open that mouth of yours back up, hmm?" Snow attempts to remain still, to be calm, but the twitch of his fingers as he curls them into the wood of his armrests gives away the anxiety he's trying to school behind a convincingly neutral face. As the Doctor nears his breathing grows heavy and thick against his lips where the leather square is pressed. Working his tongue nervously from side to side to feel the ropes that drag between his teeth and inside of his mouth, he reopens an old wound and the taste of blood greets him. He's failing the Doctors test. He's not desensitized, not at all... and now the Doctor will make him pay.

The Doctor lifts something familiar and Snow strains to press back in his chair. The old hand crank drill looms before Snow's right eye causing him to turn his head away and give a muffled cry behind his gag. "No?" The Doc questions and slowly puts the drill back down. "All right Snow, all right. We'll take it out the way we put it in and leave your eyes be for now. What do you think of that?" The patient nods vigorously. Two weeks ago, after Snow had been in the program for an entire month already, the Doctor invented a new device to test on patients to see if they really were becoming desensitized.

It consists of a leather square wide enough to cover the mouth. Holes are poked into either side of this and rough rope run through them. This rope is forced into the patients mouth before the Doctor uses his rusty knife to slit small holes in either cheek and pulls the ropes back out. Its all very bloody and messy at that point but Doc. Murden is a professional and he manages to attach the ropes back to the holes in the leather bit. Snow has healed up as nicely as he ever will. Sure, puss runs into his mouth and down his cheeks around the wounds, but other than that and the occasional blood he's doing well.

"Ready?" The Doctor questions as one of his finger presses into the hole at the side of Snow's mouth, causing Snow to wince. He's ready. "Very good. I must tell you though," says Murden, "I'm very disappointed that you've failed my tests. I simply don't know what to do with you." He drags his finger from the hole around to the leather bit in front and clamps his hand onto it. Snow's rigid body begins to shake as he stares up at the Doctor with horrified eyes. "and that makes me..so angry," Murden says as he himself begins to tremble from his rage, "I could just--" The sound of ripping flesh and Snow's screams fill the ill lit room as the Doctor tears the gag straight out of Snow's mouth leaving him with giant gaping holes instead of cheeks. He dangles the gag, and Snow's cheeks with it, in front of the blood gushing man. Snow's wet himself and it only serves to make the Doctor more upset. "Useless! You're useless Snow! You're all useless!" he roars before turning to pick up the drill...

i've seen the faces of starvation
but i just can not see the points
'cos there's so much food here today
that no one wants to take away

Granted, the good Doctor does his very best to reacquaint the patients back into society.. he may very well be losing interest in the older subjects.. They are, as you see.. Hopeless, Useless and very much used up. From the view of one as deep into the name of science as Doctor Murden is.. he can see nothing wrong with choosing much fresher meat. The tenderest of morsels in Wesswick Valley. The towns own children. They aren't snatched by the droves, but one by one.. a mother may whisper to her naughty child, "Be on your best behavior, my dear.. Or else."

That mother never knew what hit her, for in the middle of the night.. her baby is snatched from the hearth warmed bosom called home.. to a completely new environment altogether. So supple.. They do not break easily. However, they cry too much. Does this make them perfect candidates for the Program? They very well cannot be returned home.. Unless without a tongue.. Maybe those beautiful cannibals will be allowed a nice treat if on their best behavior..

the lunatics have taken over the asylum
the lunatics have taken over the asylum

As you can see things are terribly wrong within the walls of Wesswick Insane Asylum and its quaint little town, from the evils of the staff to the patients alike. Will you be a rare ray of sun or a monster waiting to strike?

no nuclear the cowboy told us
and who am i to disagree
'cos when the madman flips the switch
the nuclear will go for me

This forum contains mature content including torture,
sex, drugs, social taboos, and violence. Continue at your own risk.

Wesswick Insane Asylum

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