Friday, April 20, 2018

The Hatch - another collaboration with Twisted sub

See the text on the original tumblr at:

The Hatch

My world is reduced to 4 bare concrete walls, bare concrete floor, 8 feet by 6 feet. If I stand on the tips of my toes i can touch the ceiling with my head.  A plastic bucket is the only furniture. It can be dark, pitch black or it can be blindingly light, nothing in-between. Stiflingly warm or freezing control. Absolute silence or deafening sounds of any description, screams, rock music, white noise or the Voice. And then there is the Hatch…

The Hatch is all that matters in my world. It is the only constant, it is always there, watching, waiting. I fear it but i also worship it. It can give me treats, food and drink but it can equally punish me. That happens less often now, I’ve learned how to please the hatch, how not to make it angry. I’ve learned not to make a sound, even when the hatch is closed. I’ve learned to piss and shit in the bucket until it is completely full. I’ve learned to eat everything given to me, however disgusting. The hatch is creative with its punishment, a fireman’s hose stuck through and blasting me with icy water, left shivering and shaking to drip dry. Tasers applied before I can realize what is about to happen. Gas piped through which makes me want to rip my eyes out from the pain. Hot air pumped through until I feel I’m going to boil alive. And the worst thing? It can just remain closed for days on end, depriving me, starving me, dehydrating me, the contents of the bucket the only thing sustaining me. Totally alone, isolated, in darkness, nothing. Sometimes then I just kneel before it, begging it to open, promising to do anything if it will just acknowledge my presence. 

I’ve also learned to obey the Voice, the Voice that comes from nowhere, that seems to know every move i make, that comes and goes, that i sometimes think might just be in my head.  The Voice teaches me what I’ve done wrong, tells me what i must do when i get confused, tells me what i am…tells me i am forgotten outside, i don’t exist, i am nothing, i am an object. The Hatch and the Voice my only connection to anything outside my world. 

When the bucket is completely full, the Hatch gives me pills. i like them, they make me sleep really deep, who knows for how long, time has no meaning in my world. When i wake up the bucket is empty. Sometimes I’ve been shaved, or had a piece of equipment added or removed. Piercings, tattoos, suddenly appear. The last time tight rubber mittens were locked onto my hands tightly secured around my wrists with wire meaning i couldn’t use my fingers. i have no idea why, I long ago stopped questioning why. But now i can’t feel them anymore, my hands are numb, I fear they are dying, in my nightmares i imagine them rotting away. i want to say something to the Hatch but i daren’t, the Voice has told me i don’t need hands, that they are unnecessary…for the first time in however long i get scared, realize how much I am controlled, how my life is controlled in every detail and how it could end at any moment. i start crying and right on cue the Hatch opens…I see the pills…this time i don’t want to take them…don’t want to know what will have happened when I wake up. But the Hatch is supreme, i am nothing, i have no resistance to the will of the Hatch, the Voice. I take the pills and as taught open my mouth to show they have been swallowed, it doesn’t matter, the Voice is right, the Voice and the hatch know what i need, They can give and take away, that is Their right, i am nothing, i need nothing except the Hatch and the Voice, i love Them. I realize with a flash that the walls, floor and ceiling don’t matter, i don’t matter, the Hatch and the Voice They are my Masters, they are my world and that world is limitless. 


  1. Hi, I saw that you liked a work from
    I'd like you to know that it was my suggestion, because I'm a Toney Freeman fan and I've always found it a great reason for masochistic costumes. I would love for you to create a story inspired by this scene. I would love to see a story about an African prince sold as a slave as a child and living in a real palece completely naked and servile. ... Please, I beg for you to make a beautiful story about this drawing.
    A hug!

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