This story was developed from "The Other Side of the Door," by Joe Whatever, which you can find elsewhere on this site. Besides greatly expanding the plot -- the original was only slightly over 3 KB -- I have introduced several new characters and have taken the story in something of a new direction. A CHANGE IS AS GOOD AS A VACATION by C. Lakewood Dr. Myron Starr looked sick. Pale, slack-jawed, and sweating, he moved unsteadily through the crowded room. Fortunately for him, everyone else was much too self-absorbed to notice. In fact, he wasn't sick or drunk; there was something weighing on his mind. He might have been conscience-stricken, except that the minuscule conscience that he possessed was practically comatose. No, Dr. Starr was simply afraid -- afraid of getting caught doing what he knew he HAD to do. He concentrated on controlling his labored breathing and on trying not to jostle anyone as he made his way toward his...prey. That metaphor -- Myron Starr, predator -- gave him just enough confidence to slide adroitly next to the right elbow of his would-be nemesis, Dr. Rachel Reed, the ungrateful bitch. Starr imagined that he had mentored Rachel for years (which he had not) and that she was now about to destroy him (which she was) -- and over things as picayune as cooked research and the other stuff. His lip writhed melodramatically whenever he thought of her ingratitude, but he was ready when the chairman of the department -- senile old lush -- lurched to the podium holding a sheaf of announcements. Everyone proceeded to pay at least pro forma attention to the chairman, and, aided by that diversion, Starr managed to control his trembling hand long enough to drop the hallucinogen into Rachel's cocktail. He lingered a moment, saw her down most of the drink, and then he faded into the crowd. He waited nervously, watching Rachel from a distance for about 25 minutes, while the announcements droned on. She was standing quietly and was, in fact, mentally proof-reading her report to the Medical Oversight Committee. When that report became public, Myron Starr would be like a worm in a frying pan.... To Starr's dismay, throughout his surveillance there was no sign of any change, until suddenly she lurched forward, shaking her head. At first, it had just seemed to Rachel that the gathering had inexplicably gotten more interesting. The room was brighter and colors more vivid. On the negative side, the ambiant temperature was apparently rising, for she began to sweat. (And she rarely sweated.) She stared at her hand, now holding a fresh drink, and saw that it had begun to tremble. Too much to drink? Ridiculous.... But, shaking her head as if to dispel whatever it was that was affecting her, she half-staggered over to the nearest wall and sank down gratefully onto a window seat. Time was passing either very slowly or very quickly...or maybe both at once; she couldn't tell. But she wasn't much concerned with it, because she was trying to cope with a panorama of moods -- giddiness, anxiety, anger, joy, annoyance -- that were shifting so rapidly that they almost seemed to exist simultaneously. During an emotional lull, she surveyed the crowd and giggled softly. So many of her incompetent colleagues were wearing halos. Of course, Halloween was just a few days off, but this was really absurd.... Looking down into the pale depths of her drink, she thought hard (which was easy, since her mind was racing at warp speed). Was she drunk? Drunk on little more than tee martoonis? (She giggled again, louder this time.) No, not drunk, she decided. "Dr-dru-drugged...." The realization hit her hard. She was losing the icy self-control for which she was famous, all because some bas-astard had.... She was suddenly dizzy. She uttered a long wail and then toppled forward, unconscious, onto the cheap reddish-brown shag with which the reception room was carpeted. She was immediately surrounded by a gaggle of doctors, half of whom immediately diagnosed stroke, and the other half drunkenness. But (since they were all psychiatrists) they eventually agreed that she MUST be suffering from some obscure psychological disorder. After expressing their expert opinions, they went back to the bar, leaving Myron Starr to take charge of things, which he was more than happy to do. In such cases, standard procedure called for seventy-two hours' observation in an approved psychiatric facility. And Dr. Starr made sure that Rachel was sent to the Jeaudeau Psychiatric Hospital for Women. ****************************** Rachel slowly returned to consciousness. She was lying on her back, restrained, on what she recognized as a hospital gurney. She felt exhausted, drained of energy. Rolling her eyes sideways, she discovered that she was in a rather generic (but vaguely familiar) antiseptic hallway. On the wall opposite, a discreet neon sign glowed, "Reception." As her disorientation cleared, she realized where she was: Jeaudeau, the snake pit. Before her latest blackout, she had been wearing pajamas, lying in a comfortable bed at well-respected Mercy General, and someone was just changing her IV bag.... Now she was naked, except for a white canvas straitjacket and a dental gag that stretched her jaws and made her drool. As she squirmed in anger and frustration, the jacket's cunningly designed crotch-strap teased her already inflamed cunt. The last time she'd been here, she had been inspecting the facility, in charge and in control. She had pulled no punches, mercilessly criticizing the hospital for its humiliating "treatments" of so-called "disrespectful" and "uncooperative" patients. But this was a politically connected institution, and her report was swept under the rug -- though not without a fight. In any case, the place continued to be perfect for disposing of a nagging wife, a defiant step-daughter, an unwanted mistress, a troublesome business rival, or even a dangerous professional colleague...for a price. ****************************** At last a door in the opposite wall opened. Rachel felt a mounting despair as the burly black nurse strode across the corridor toward her. "It's won-derful to see you again, Rachel," Nurse Stone cooed, her voice dripping with insincerity. "I see they have you kitted out properly." Rachel made a series of inarticulate sounds as she stared up at the unforgiving woman who would rule her life for the next 72 hours. "Not so sassy now, are you?" the nurse taunted. "That's good. You know how I handle sass, don't you? I punish sassy girls on their naked fannies as they dance around the room until they promise to be obedient. I got a bunch of new toys you've never seen, and I'm SO looking forward to introducing 'em to you." She winked. "Now, first off, We'll have to get you showered. Normally, you'd use the big old gang shower, but on the first day (and whenever you earn demerits) I attend to you personally. 'Course the male orderlies will still get to...'observe'. You ARE here for observation, aren't you? And 'the boys' often help with the showers, besides needing to be handy for your three-a-day enemas and your frequent cavity searches. As you can imagine, they are VERY thorough, but light-hearted at the same time. Boys WILL be boys, after all," she chuckled. "Then you'll get a haircut -- two in fact -- and afterward we'll have to check your hot, dirty little snatch for contraband." She undid the straitjacket's crotch-strap and ground the heel of her hand into Rachel's puffy cunt, smirking in satisfaction as the patient stiffened and uttered a long, gasping whine. "Ah, so you like this game, do you? Well, we'll play it often." She casually flicked Rachel's swollen clit. "You're a hot little slut at heart, aren't you? I'm sure all of the fellas -- AND your sponsor -- are just going to LOOOVE seeing the great, pompous Dr. Reed being put through her paces. Unfortunately for you, pretty soon you won't be allowed to cum -- no matter how much you might want to (or need to) -- unless you convince us that you're truly...'cured.'" She beamed and appeared almost maternal. "But we haven't a lot of time to waste. Your sponsor will be here soon. So you just wait here a moment, dear," she said condescendingly, re-fastening the crotch-strap. "I have to go find my latex gloves, my long-handled scrub brush...and my new toys, of course." Guffawing, Nurse Stone strutted back to her lair. Rachel's heart pounded, her body was sweaty, and her face was flushed. Above all, the hot, wet stickiness between her legs was driving her crazy. She had always prided herself on her intellect, her dignity, her self-control, and her independence, but now.... Then a belated thought occurred to her: "Sponsor"? ****************************** By the time the black nurse reappeared with a bulging white canvas bag a few minutes later, Rachel had cleared her mind, regained her self-control, and determined to get through the next three days without breaking, regardless of the crap she was subjected to. She would shelve her pride and dignity -- temporarily -- for 72 hours.... But, after that, there'd be a reckoning. Apparently unaware of the dire consequences that might be awaiting her, Nurse Stone came bustling up, stowed her bag under the gurney, and then, whistling merrily all the way, proceeded to wheel Rachel down the hallway and deep into the bowels of the hospital. Presently they entered a small, white-tiled room. There was a floor drain in one corner, with a garden hose pointed toward it. Two hulking orderlies were waiting. "Ah, Ty-Rod...'Nando, I reckon you both know the good Dr. Rachel Reed here," the nurse said. The big black one scowled and nodded. "Sho' do. When she was 'specktin', she give me a dee-fish...." "Deficiency," Nurse Stone corrected. "Yeah. Well, Ah knows it was some kinda fish...a bad kind." The black nurse nodded. "She needs a shower; go ahead and get her ready." "Kin Ah scrubs her?" "Maybe next time. I get first crack at her. And don't pout. You can give her an enema." "Jes' one?" "As many as might be necessary to clean her out thoroughly." "Yes, ma'am! Ah gots me some speshul stuff...." "That's fine. But now go ahead; strip her down and truss her up." Under the practiced hands of the two orderlies, Rachel was soon naked, her arms bound across her back with cable ties, wrists to elbows. Ty-Rod regarded her with a sneer. "Ah'd say her tits was purty dee-fish." Rachel went red in the face. She'd always been sensitive about her flat chest. "Yeah, but I bet her nipples are tender," the nurse smirked, pinching Rachel's nipples and getting an involuntary whimper in response. "You boys make sure you give 'em a good workout tonight." She grinned and made kissing noises. "Oh, yes, ma'am!" the two orderlies chorused. "But that's later, and this is now. So put her over the drain and stand back. I'm gonna wet her down." When Rachel was in position and the orderlies out of range, Nurse Stone sprayed her victim thoroughly with a forceful jet of frigid water from the waiting hose. When Rachel was thoroughly dazed and dripping, the nurse shut off the water and squirted green industrial-strength soap onto the bristles of her long-handled scrub brush. Then, flourishing the brush, she advanced on Rachel, now huddled in the corner, trembling despite her earlier resolve to remain stoic. "Straddle the brush, girl," the nurse ordered. "N-n-nooo...." The nurse didn't seem dismayed by the whimpered refusal, however. She merely shrugged, transferred the brush to her left hand, and, with her right, pulled out a shiny black rod, similar to a truncheon, some 18" long. "This is our own version of a cattle prod...or maybe a pig prod.... Yeah, just right for uncooperative little piggies like you. While you're here, you'll feel it now and then even if you're 'good'...but all the time if you're a 'bad girl.' And moisture increases the effect." She touched the tip to Rachel's wet thigh and was rewarded with a jerk and a squeal. "That's right, you bad little piggie, squeal." She prodded Rachel's defenseless body, lying in a heap, for a moment or two, then asked, "Ready to straddle the brush, now, piggie?" Rachel nodded spastically and struggled to her feet. Gingerly, she raised one leg and stepped over the brush, grimacing as the nurse snugged the soapy bristles against her cringing cunt. "We gotta get that gooey, filthy cunt so clean somebody could eat off it. Not me, of course; I'm not a carpet muncher, but there's plenty others around here who WOULD be interested...." She began scrubbing Rachel's crotch vigorously. Rachel doubled over, moaning softly. She backed up as far as she could, but the black nurse pursued relentlessly, keeping the brush-head located where it would be most effective. "Cum for Mr. Brush, little piggie, Cum BIG TIME!" And she did...big time. And then she slowly collapsed, still straddling the brush. After a while, the nurse withdrew the brush, rinsed Rachel off, and, when the "piggie" didn't seem capable of rising on her own, had the orderlies drag her over to a stool, where she chopped her hair into a punk-cut. A final rinse-off, a moment to admire her work, and then the nurse stepped back and said, "Okay, boys, take her into the next room and wash her out good. Ty, you're in charge." Whistling merrily, "the boys" hauled Rachel away. ****************************** When the orderlies brought her back, Nurse Stone put away the novel she'd been reading and glanced at her watch. "Forty-two minutes," she thought. Aloud, she said, "Well, she should be squeaky clean now, I reckon." Clean maybe, but certainly exhausted-looking. Ty-Rod, by contrast, appeared jubilant. "You sho' wuz right 'bout her nips, Rosetta. An' ma speshul stuff did a real good job on her guts. Ah'd be real happy t'stick mah dong up there now." The nurse chortled. "You boys can play later. Bend her over, and I'll administer her meds. Suppository form, of course." As they bent her over, 'Nando happily admitted, "Oh, we's already played wit' her some. 'Sides her nips, she got a real sens'tive clit. She cum four more times...an' didn' want to. You givin' her the Halozine treatment?" "No," she answered. "We're using Doepazine; it's similar to Halozine, but more powerful. She'll be docile, all right, but it'll also ramp up her libido...significantly...." Ty-Rod was frowning. "Lybeeda?" The nurse was forbearing. "'Libido' -- sex-drive. Prob'ly by late tomorrow cumming will be all she thinks about...and she won't get no relief, no matter what." She inserted the last of the suppositories into Rachel's bowels and shoved it deep. "As a matter of fact, boys, while she still can, try to make sure she cums a lot...and cums against her will. Pretty soon she'll be aching to cum and won't be able to. Now, strap her down on the gurney. I gotta search her cunt...and then shave her." In the interim, while Rachel was getting cleaned out, the nurse had fixed stirrups to the gurney. They were set so that, when her feet were strapped into them, Rachel was spread to an almost impossible extent. The nurse looked at Rachel's crotch and shook her head. "Tsk, tsk! Your clit's all red and swollen. Cunt-lips, too. You been playing with yourself, piggie?" She waited for an answer, but Rachel remained silent. The nurse chuckled and fetched from her bag a dark brown, thumb-sized object trailing a long electrical cord. She gave Rachel a good look at it, dipped it into her patient's flowing cunt, and inserted it deep into Rachel's sensitive asshole. She tossed the plug end of the long cord to Ty-Rod. "Plug that in, will you, Ty?" She then displayed a small device. "Remote. Wanna see how it works?" Without waiting for an answer, she pressed a button. Rachel went rigid, then bowed upward. She emitted a sort of strangled scream. "Dear me, I thought you had more self-control than that. Now quiet down.... I gotta warn you that I'll just leave this on until you do." By a supreme act of will, Rachel closed her mouth and settled back. The nurse switched off the remote. "I'll ask you again. Been masturbating?" She held up the remote. "And answer politely." Rachel gritted her teeth. No...ma'am. The orderlies did it." "Did what? Be specific. And call them your 'boyfriends.'" "My-my...boyfriends mas-asturbated me, ma'am." "Continue." "And they made me cum while...." To "encourage" her, the nurse triggered the remote again. "Aaaah! Please! They made me cum while I was shitting! Please t-turn it offf!" The nurse thumbed off the remote. "Your boyfriends'll be around to see you later, and I expect you to show them a real good time.... Otherwise, your asshole will pay the price." "I will, ma'am. A really good time...." "You dissin' me, correctin' mah English, girl?" Her voice took on an echo of the ghetto. "You think you smarter'n me?" Despite being the smartest person in the room (by a substantial margin), Rachel desperately answered, "Oh no, ma'am, you're much smarter, much smarter! I'm just a...a stupid piggie!" Right then, the Mensa IQ, the years of graduate school, the medical degree, the research and publications -- all of it meant little compared to the need for pleasing this big, black nurse. "A stupid, HORNY little piggie...." "Yes, ma'am. A stupid, hor-orny...oh, god...sooo horny little piggie...." "Shee-it! She horny fo' sho'...you kin smell 'er from here," Ty-Rod laughed. "She in heat, right enough," the nurse said. "But it's time for her shave. Somebody get me a cup of water." She wetted down Rachel's pubic hair, squirted her with a crotchful of shaving cream, and worked in the lather thoroughly (but none too gently) with both hands. She cleaned off her hands and then brandished a gleaming straight razor. "You better not twitch for a while, piggie. You wouldn't want to LOSE anything." The nurse accomplished the shave in perhaps slightly less than average time -- her desire to prolong the process (to further discomfort Rachel) conflicting with her desire to finish quickly (to show off her efficiency). She then smeared on a thick layer of green goo and hummed a merry tune as she watched Rachel writhing under its itching-burning caress. "It's worth it, you know," she commented. "The hair won't grow back for six months...if then." She washed Rachel's crotch clean and admired the pink glow of the previously white flesh. "I bet you're really sensitive, now, piggie." She tested her assumption and smiled as Rachel flinched away from her touch. "Oh, yeah, you 'n the boys gonna have FUN tonight...ain'tcha?" "Y-yes, ma-ma'am...." "Okay, guys, you can have her. But don't forget to give her another enema...extra soap." As an afterthought, she handed Ty the remote. "Use it in good health." "We sho' as shit will. Thanks, Rosetta." ****************************** On the other side of the one-way mirror, pudgy Myron Starr (the "sponsor") chuckled and, once again, checked his camera. He was feeling first-rate. Last evening he had used Rachel's own keys to let himself into her office, and there he had wiped the incriminating files from her computer, shredded her notes, and carried off all the hard copies. Clean sweep! Myron Starr again triumphant! ****************************** Hours later, behind another one-way glass, Starr ate the last of his fried chicken, downed a shot of tequila, and belched. The two orderlies had just finished administering Rachel's last enema of the day and were bedding down the exhausted patient. She was well-secured, with her wrists cuffed to the bed rails and her feet fastened again into widely spread stirrups. Finished at last, the two men blew Rachel a flurry of goodnight kisses, snapped off the light, and left. "Now it's my time," Starr said to himself. "Time to stop just observing -- as enjoyable as that has been -- and to take an active role." He flung a black cloak around his shoulders and pulled a papier mâché devil's mask down over his face. (He was still somewhat self-conscious about revealing himself to Rachel. Indeed, he was, even now, rather intimidated by her.) As he moved to the patient's room, he re-lived the wonderful sight of the orderlies chasing her round the room with her asshole on fire. He slipped into her room, startled her by flipping on the light, and stood silently for several minutes...the predator (his favorite image of himself) gazing down at the juicy tidbit staked out below. Rachel whimpered softly and tried to close her legs -- unsuccessfully as it turned out. But it altered the mood of the moment. Starr hissed in irritation, then, liking the effect, spoke with a sibilant whisper. "How dare you try to hide your cunt from me, trash!" Then he noticed the anal probe and its remote control lying discarded on the bedside table. The probe was, unfortunately not still plugged in, so he had to crawl around some to find an outlet. Of course, he was outraged at this affront to his dignity, and, of course, it was Rachel's fault. So it was only right that, when he eventually had the probe inserted deeply up her rear, he got his pay back. As she writhed and squirmed to the limits of her bonds, Rachel (who was by this time near the end of her tether), began to whimper, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry...." Behind the mask, he smiled contentedly. And he kept his thumb on the button as he reached out with his other hand to caress her super-sensitive crotch and tease her swollen clit. All the while, she desperately began heaping verbal abuse on herself. In time, he lowered his zipper and took out his erect, but pale and somewhat undersized cock. He moved so that he could lay its drooling tip on her lips and lifted his thumb. Without a word, she sucked in his cock and began to work on it with her tongue. He closed his eyes in ecstasy and wondered what he should teach her next.... ****************************** In the morning, Rachel was roused abruptly by Nurse Stone and her minions. "Wakey, wakey, little piggy! It's time for your morning enemas," the nurse chanted laughingly. She dragged Rachel limply to her feet and left her in the care of the two grinning orderlies. She was paged 63 minutes later. "Hmm, hmm, hmmm. A new record," she mused, glancing at her watch. ****************************** Other than there being no pubic shave, this day was pretty similar to the first...just longer and, if possible, even more sordid. Starr had slept on a couch in one of the observation rooms, so anxious was he not to miss anything. One thing that was different was that Rachel's orgasms (so plentiful the first day) now seemed to be virtually unobtainable by any means. Late in the day, after Rachel's third enema session and her meds, Nurse Stone had the orderlies secure Rachel's wrists behind her back and insert the anal probe before sending them off to dinner...and locking the door behind them. "Now what?" Starr muttered and picked up his camera. The nurse flung off her white uniform, and Starr was astonished to see that she was pantyless. Rachel, on the other hand, stood passively, head down. "See my sweet pussy, piggie? You know I can just finger my clit a little, and I cum and cum and cum. I bet YOU'd like to be able to cum, wouldn't you, my little piggie?" Rachel, puffy-eyed and hollow-cheeked, lifted her head and breathed, "Oh yes, ma'am...please!" "Well, you stop acting so uppity toward your betters, and maybe I might fix it so you could do just that. What d'you say?" "P-please, ma'am.... Te-ell me what you w-want me to do." "Well, for starters, you can kneel down here and get your tongue up my pussy." The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Rachel had stumbled forward three steps, fallen to her knees, and buried her face in the nurse's crotch. Starr was frozen by the scene unfolding on the other side of the glass. When he did manage to shake off his paralysis, his first move was to get his camera into action. He regretted that he wasn't able to capture the accompanying sounds, as well. After what was obviously her third orgasm, Nurse Stone seized Rachel by the ears and pulled her head away. "That's it...for now. Keep up the good work, sweetie, and you'll earn your reward." "Please," Rachel whimpered weakly. "Later," the nurse replied. "Right now, you look like you could use some sleep." She bedded Rachel down, dressed, and left. ****************************** Starr slowly undressed in the observation room and went next door wearing only the mask and cloak. Despite this, it turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, however. He had gotten so aroused by the sight of Rachel eating out the nurse that he shot his (let's face it) puny load down Rachel's throat within 40 seconds. Then, no matter what he did, he just couldn't get it up again. So for a long while he amused himself finger-fucking her cunt and tormenting her asshole and sucking her nipples and slapping her here and there. When he eventually left, he was convinced that it was all her fault that he'd been denied a second cum. He vowed that she would pay dearly for the insult. ****************************** Long after the man in the devil costume had left, Rachel lay bone-weary, gutted, but unable to sleep. Indeed, her throbbing cunt, the residual burning in her asshole, and her swollen, aching clit and nipples not only combined to keep her awake, but also inexplicably freed her mind to travel along more familiar pathways. Strangely, she felt more like her normal self than at any time since that accursed cocktail party. She knew, however, that it was perhaps largely a delusion -- and that sooner or later she would slip back into the zombie-like state in which she had spent most of the last two days. Two days! One more to go...and then these cretins will have so much hell fire raining down on them.... And that pervert in the Halloween costume.... Reassured, she fell asleep. ****************************** When Nurse Stone awakened Rachel the next morning, she was carrying a clip-board. "Somebody spilled coffee on your records, and we've had to re-do 'em. I think everything's in order now. You've got some serious problems: grossly over-active libido, compulsive masturbation, and so on and so on.... But, since you'll be with us for an 'indefinite' committment, I'm sure you'll be a changed woman by the time you're released." Rachel, again having trouble concentrating, struggled to express herself. "Na...no...not indef'nite.... Seb...seb...t'ree dayz...." "Oh, no...it's 'indefinite,' could be YEARS...." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Could be forever. Dr. Starr signed off on it...and he IS your...your overseer, now." She turned to her two goons. "Okay, boys, take her away and clean her good -- inside and out. And, 'Nando, when you bring her back, bring your equipment along, too. The big Mexican grinned and nodded. ****************************** They returned 81 minutes later, fastened Rachel securely face down, and then unlimbered 'Nando's gear. From the comfort of his vantage point, Starr watched, fascinated, as Rachel was expertly tattooed on the left butt cheek: Jeaudeau Psychiatric Hospital Starr was euphoric. He leaned forward, planning the future. There would be no further need for the cloak and mask. He felt invincible. ****************************** Across town, Dr. Elmo Z. Ploughman, the straitlaced chairman of the Medical Oversight Committee, was, at that moment, opening a thick manila envelope, marked "Private" in red, and bearing the return address of "Dr. Rachel Reed." He extracted a substantial report, complete with half a dozen appendices. Smiling a lemony smile, he opened it to page 1, leaned back, and began to read....