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Email:   vulcan@anarchocat.com

41

Max Reimann:

" Damned boozing! My fucking head is exploding!" I searched for the light switch, but my arms did not obey me. I just thought:

"Fuck it! First of all, I had to sleep it off." The next time I woke up, the bladder press. Now it was time for my royal Tiger. There I noticed that they fixed my whole body. I couldn't even move my little finger any longer. Something was wrong with my face, too. All that I could control were my eyelids. A light switched on. However, it did not become bright, and I could look only rigidly straight ahead through a narrow, round tunnel.

"Good morning, Herr Reimann! Have you slept well?" a voice asked me from somewhere.

"Mhmhmhmhmhh..." I answered. My mouth was wide open, and I could not close it, and something pressed firmly on my tongue. Only then I noticed that I was breathing through my nose without feeling the air flowing through it. It appeared as if all my sensations had been robbed of me.

"Oh, I have forgotten about that. You can' t talk at all. The Sheik thinks you have talked plenty of stupid stuff. Whatever, you're in a brotherhood lab to be set on the road to a good and constructive life. Now you live in strict Purdah. So you enjoy an all-around treatment. That means: you are stuck in a self-sufficient rubber suit, that holds you firmly in the desired position and we also decide whether or not and what you feel, hear or see. You will be mechanically fed and soaked, and you can empty yourself directly, as you will also be cleaned by a machine every evening. Apart from that, it means for you: learn, learn and learn again! And now you know.

WELCOME TO YOUR NEW LIFE!

For a long time then it was quiet again. Soon I could no more hold the bladder and intestine and surrendered. So I was lying there in my feces, and the only distraction I felt was the drying onto my body. I got bored to death. Time crept away only so. If you are robbed of access to your senses, you lose all sight of time. An eternity later my couch straightened up, and I was sitting. A hard water stream hit me from behind, which cleaned me and my couch. I heard a full click and sensed my stomach filled. The light then went out in my tunnel. It was. After quite some time, that could have been seconds, hours or days, the light switched on again, and an almost invisible, pulsating sign appeared in my tunnel. At first, it was just a shadow, and I had to make an effort to recognize a shape at all. Suddenly it yelled into my ears: "Allah! And synchronized with the pulsating sign, almost painfully loud, it repeated all the time until a new sign appeared. It then started all over again. Little by little it became clear to me that the verses were Quranic in Arabic. It was brutal. Each pulsation I felt like a wave breaking against a rock. Suddenly it was over, and the complete silence let me pass out. And the next thing I realized again was the full click of the feeding hose and the cleaning by the cold water stream. It was not life, only existence, restricted only to feeding, shitting, cleansing and sleeping. I don't know how long. Everything I owned was the Koran, and so it became the only existential possibility for me to be and not vegetate. Thinking became Koran, and I was clutching to it. I didn't want to become a dull cattle. So Islam was my savior. Eventually, I memorized it, and I started to think in Arabic and was longing to speak the verses out loud in Arabic. Perhaps as a reward, I saw some praying believers through the tunnel. It had to be a video transmission out of a mosque. Thus I was allowed to participate in the five prayers being there: Fadschr, Zuhr, Asr, Maghrib, and Isha. Now, among the prayers, I read the Qur'an unassisted.

"Welcome, brother. I am happy to see your excellent progress!" That commendation pleased me

"You shall receive a reward. You will be allowed to talk. So you can say the verses of the Qur'an and your prayers aloud. Be warned. Only one word of you in the Kufr language and you will have your vocal cords cut, and you will be mute for once and for all".

- Much later I should know the implications that cutting my vocal cords would have on me, the complete sex change and personality erasure. Probably the reason they didn't treat that way was because of my earlier successes in the internet business. I would have been a giant asshole for them, as well as a professional one and my ex-wife 'Madame' also insisted for me. Allah bless her! -

"And you shall be given a servant to feed and wash you. You are strictly forbidden to speak to her; this applies to all the women here, otherwise...! So that you do not unintentionally speak the Kufr language in your sleep, at night, you are gagged."

I fainted to wake up again, freed from mouth tube, stomach and nose probe, but gagged. A black cone approached me via my tunnel. Then it removed the gag and presented me with a display. Of course, it was in Arabic:

"My name is Banu, and I am your servant. I will feed you and clean you". It was stupid that after a long time with the open fixed throat, I had lost control over my jaw and I drooled like a baby. But she gently massaged the area with her gloved hands, and slowly the blood pulsated through the muscles, and my jaw was burning like hell. But I was so grateful for every sensation that I cried not only for pain but also for happiness. For consolation, she stroked me gently over my face as a deep feeling of warmth filled me. For how long was I trapped in this hell that the soft touch of satin gloves could trigger such surges of emotion deep inside me. With much patience, she fed me the porridge. Then she left and returned with a bucket of warm water and washed my face and cleansed my privacy. I was infinitely grateful to her, and I rewarded her as it is the duty of a strange man in Islam by ignoring her correctly. She soon left, and I turned back to my Quranic verses. I was conscious that I would be stuck here for a very, very long time, but just the prospect of salvation out of my misery alone brought me new strength for my Purdah. Therefore I eagerly embarked on my Islamic studies.