


 
                    MENTAL HOSPITAL HORROR

                              by 

                           Joe Doe



Joyce and I had gone through medical school together, so naturally 
when I attended the seminar back east, I called her up to see if we 
could do lunch.  She was busy, but we agreed on a quick lunch, with 
me meeting her at her at the mental hospital where she worked.  
That way she could give me brief tour before we ate. 

The security at the mental hospital was tight, and I had to go 
through several gates to get to the reception area.  At the first 
gate I had to present a photo ID.  My name was on the visitors 
sheet, so they gave me a badge, which I clipped to the lapel of 
my trench coat. As per my request, the badge listed me as "Dr. 
Linda Watson."  In hospitals, I always wear identification as 
a doctor, just to let people know who is in charge.  The guards 
quickly buzzed me through. 

I walked down a wide, secure hallway to get to the second gate, 
which, in addition to two armed guards, also had a metal detector.  
They checked my badge again and told me to put "any personal items, 
metal objects, and my purse" in the locker that corresponded to my 
badge number.  Although I thought it was a little bit silly, it 
was a mental hospital, so I did what they asked.  Since I was kind 
of warm, and, since the trench coat had metal buttons, I put the 
coat in the locker, too. 

I passed through the metal detector, and the guard buzzed me into 
the next hallway.  I walked down a long, sterile hospital corridor 
and approached a steel cage at the far end next to a sign that said 
"RECEPTION."  The crone in the cage buzzed me through the door to 
the other side and asked me to state my business.

I explained that I was here to see Dr. Joyce Winston for lunch, and 
she said rather curtly that she didn't know anything about any 
appointment.  Then she asked to see my visitor's badge.  After 
several moments of panicked search, I realized that I didn't have 
it...I had left it clipped to the trench coat that was now resting 
comfortably in the locker.  I tried to explain what had happened, 
but she left and came back with another nurse, a big fat bull dyke 
with a crew cut, who looked like a prison guard in some B movie.

"Is your name Linda?" she said curtly.

"Yes...Ma'am", I replied.  I don't know why I added 'Ma'am,' but, 
given her general demeanor, it seemed appropriate under the 
circumstances.

She buzzed me through yet another door and told me to follow her.  
We entered a large, tiled shower room, and she placed a cardboard 
box at my feet.  The box had the name LINDA JEFFERTS and a serial 
number on the side.  But my name, of course, was Linda Watson.  
What was happening? 

The dyke nurse looked at me and smiled.  "Okay, Jefferts, strip 
down to your birthday suit.  Every stitch...undies too!  Put it 
all in the box." 

"Look, this is a mistake.  I'm not a patient; I'm just here for 
lunch.  I don't know what that nurse said, but I'm not who I am.  
I mean, who they said I am!  I need to get that damn badge!"  I 
started to walk past her, but she gruffly pushed me back, so I 
pushed her.  It was a big mistake.  She glared at me and muttered, 
"You're gonna regret that, meat."  Then she thumbed a red button 
on the wall.

Two large black orderlies walked in.  They were both over 6 feet 
and very muscular.  Despite their white uniforms, they looked more 
like street thugs than medical personnel -- one even had a gang 
tat on his arm.

"Our little princess here needs some help taking off her clothes, 
boys," the nurse said, smugly.  "Maybe you can give her a hand."

The two thugs started to move towards me, and I quickly took off 
my shoes.  "Wait...I'll do it...just not in front of them," I 
pleaded.

"You're not giving the orders in here, Missy," she snapped back.  
"You're just another patient now, and I'll strip you down butt 
naked like all the rest.  Now take off your jacket!"

I took off my jacket, folded it neatly, and put it in the box.

"Now your earrings!" she snapped.  "Give them to me."

I took off my expensive earrings and handed them over to the butch 
nurse.  She smiled at me as she put them in her pocket.

"Now the show starts to get interesting, honey.  Take off your 
shirt.  And do it nice and slow."

I swallowed hard and slowly undid the buttons of my white silk 
blouse.  Slow was good...maybe Joyce would find me and rescue me.  
In the meantime, I knew I would have to perform a slow, humiliating 
strip tease for the grinning nurse and the two leering men.

I folded my shirt and put it in the box.  Underneath I was wearing 
an expensive white lace bra.  I tried to cover myself, but the 
nurse told me to put my arms down at my sides.  One of the black 
men let out a little wolf whistle.

"She not too big up top, but those little peaches sure look firm 
and tasty, Tyrone!" one of the men said.

"Sure do," the other man agreed.  "More'n a handful is jus' a 
waste.  'Sides, these snooty little society bitches never got 
big jugs.  But their pussies are like rubber bands!"  They both 
laughed, and the nurse barked out her next command.

"Now the skirt, Princess."

I unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it.  Now I was wearing 
nothing but stockings, garter belt, lacy white panties and 
matching bra.  I've always liked sexy underwear, but, when I 
got dressed that morning I never imagined that I'd be forced 
to parade around in my scanties in front of these hooligans. 

One of the men told me to put my hands on top of my head and turn 
around, nice and slow.  I did as I was told, and they whistled and 
hooted at me.  I felt like some cheap little slut at one of those 
sleazy lunch-time lingerie fashion shows.  I could actually feel 
myself blushing, a fact that the nurse noted with obvious delight 
as I took off my stockings and garter belt.

"Okay, honey, time for the moment of truth," the nurse said.  
"Slip off that bra and show the boys those cute little titties."  
I took off my bra.  Again I was ordered to put my hands on my head 
and turn around slowly. 

"Well, she won't work at Hooters, but them nipples sure are nice 
and pointy," Tyrone said. 

"I'll bet you 25 cents she ain't no natural blonde, Tyrone!" the 
larger man said.

"You're on!" Tyrone said, with a laugh.  "Did you hear that, white 
girl?  You gonna have to slip outta them 'spensive, pretty WHITE 
panties, to he'p ol' Tyrone win 25 cents!" 

Reluctantly, I turned around and pulled down my panties, 
unfortunately giving them a rather lewd view of my upturned 
bottom.  With tears in my eyes, I placed my hands on top of 
my head and slowly turned around, exposing my naked crotch 
for all to see.

"WOO-HEE!  A natural blonde!  You owe me two bits, Roscoe!" Tyrone 
shouted.  The tears started streaming down my cheeks as I stood 
there, naked and humiliated, while Roscoe tossed the grinning 
Tyrone a quarter.  Stripped of everything -- for 25 cents!

"Don't feel bad, honey," Tyrone said.  "Nigra gals had to strip 
for their massahs down on the plantation.  Makin' you show us yo' 
pretty white pussy's jus' a bit of racial justice.  Jus' be glad 
I cain't put yo' fine white ass up on the auction block."  Their 
laughter burned in my ears.

"Okay, let's go, boys," the nurse said, gruffly.  "We don't have 
all day to process the princess."  All three of them put on rubber 
gloves and face masks.  This was not a good sign.

The nurse turned and left the room, and the two orderlies quickly 
advanced on me.  They grabbed my arms, led me over to a pair of 
shackles dangling from the ceiling, slipped my wrists into the 
cuffs, and adjusted the slack so that my toes were barely touching 
the floor.  The nurse walked in, carrying a scrub bucket and an 
ancient-looking pair of electric shears.  Putting down the bucket, 
she turned on the shears, which came to life with an evil hum.

"You don't have to shave her," Roscoe said.  "Ain't no way a fine 
uptown piece o' ass like her got lice."

The nurse replied, "I'm the one who decides who gets shaved, and 
I say that we shave her bald as a billiard ball."  She ran the 
clippers roughly down the front of my crotch, and I winced as a 
large swath of my beautiful blonde bush was sheared away.  
"Besides, that dirty little snatch of hers is just going to 
collect a lot of filth."  She ran the shears between my legs 
again, and I started to sob.  Looking right into my eyes, she 
smiled and said, "I said you'd be sorry you pushed me, honey!"

The two "boys" took coarse scrub brushes out of the bucket and 
started roughly scrubbing me down like I was some filthy sow.  The 
chemical solution they used burned and stank, quickly overwhelming 
my expensive perfume.  I would be reeking of disinfectant for weeks.

Of course, they used my "scrub down" as an opportunity to squeeze 
my breasts and bottom.  At the nurse's suggestion, they both took 
time for a "cavity search," which involved fingering my helpless 
pussy and bottom hole.  Roscoe, in particular, enjoyed the 
experience and assured me that he'd be visiting me later on 
that night.... 

The cruel nurse, in the meantime, shaved my pubic area bald and 
then turned her attention to my head.  "You won't look so high 
and mighty after I shear off that fancy society hairdo.  But I'm 
probably doing you a favor, honey.  You're gonna be so ugly, 
nobody's gonna want to fuck you."

"I'll still fuck her," Roscoe said.  And Tyrone quickly agreed.

"Well, except Roscoe and Tyrone.  But they're probably just gonna 
do it 'cause they remember what a fine bitch you were when we 
brought you in here."

After my head was totally bald, she used a pair of clippers to trim 
my manicured nails to short stubs, and then she roughly scrubbed 
off the nail polish.  When the work was complete, Tyrone hosed me 
down like I was a dog, taking particular delight in directing the 
freezing stream of water against my jiggling breasts and up between 
my legs at my freshly denuded pussy.

"Did you bring a gown?" Tyrone asked the nurse.

"No, I figured we'd dress her in the supply area.  We better 
restrain her first, though." 

They unhooked me from the ceiling cuffs, but then fastened my hands 
behind my back, using a cheap pair of plastic handcuffs Tyrone had 
on his belt.  He roughly grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and 
pushed me out into the hallway, stark naked!

Tyrone, Roscoe and the nurse walked me slowly down that long 
hallway, making sure that everyone got a good look.  I endured 
their winks and rude comments, barely able to look up at them.  
One of my fellow patients even slapped me hard on my bare ass as 
I walked by, and Tyrone just laughed.  I looked back at the 
leering patient, and he winked at me and rubbed his crotch.  On 
his robe he was wearing a yellow tag that said "SEX OFFENDER."  
I prayed that they wouldn't put us in the same ward.

I had come through the gates as a respected member of the medical 
profession.  I had come here for a guided tour.  As a doctor I 
knew that everyone I met would treat me with deference and respect. 

But, in less than 30 minutes, I had been stripped of everything.  
My ID, my medical degree, my legal rights, my expensive clothing, 
and my dignity were all taken away.  I was no longer a successful 
career woman.  I was now just another mental patient: bald, 
shackled, stinking of disinfectants, and forced to parade down 
the hall in my birthday suit to everyone's obvious amusement.

We finally got to the room at the end of the hall, and they laid 
me out on a gurney.  The lesbian nurse lovingly rubbed baby oil 
and baby powder on my backside...and then slipped me into a diaper!

"I don't need a diaper," I said.  "I'm not incontinent."

"Don't worry sweetie, it's for your own good.  The machine we 
use is kind of old, and most girls lose bladder control during 
treatment."

"Treatment!" I yelled.  "What treatment?  I don't need any 
treatment."

"That isn't what your file says, honey buns.  Just relax and let 
the nurse take care of everything." 

To my relief, they uncuffed me and slipped me into a short white 
gown.  Although there were no ties in back, it didn't really 
matter, because they quickly strapped my arms and legs to the 
gurney.  And then they added more straps across my chest and 
abdomen. 

She put a large, foul-tasting ball gag in my mouth and secured it.  
I was now totally helpless.  Tyrone and Roscoe left, both promising 
to "visit" me later that night -- and giving my breasts a final, 
playful squeeze.  I shuddered at the thought of what they would do 
to me.

The nurse wheeled me down the hall to the nurse's station.  There 
was no one there, so she used a red magic marker to write something 
on my forehead.  Smiling at me wickedly, she laid my chart on my 
chest and walked away, whistling a merry tune.

I lay there helpless for a good ten minutes, but, fortunately, the 
crowd in the hallway had dissipated, and the few other patients who 
were there left me alone.  Finally, I heard two nurses coming down 
the hall.  As they approached, I caught some of their conversation.

"Anyway, Dr. Winston called and said that she was expecting some 
other doctor to meet her for lunch.  But she came down with the 
flu, and she won't be in for the rest of the week.  So if that 
other doctor shows up, apologize for Dr. Winston and ask her if 
things can be rescheduled for next week."

MY GOD!  JOYCE WASN'T GOING TO BE HERE UNTIL MONDAY!

"Who's baldie?" the other nurse said, picking up my file.  "Linda 
Jefferts!  I thought they called and said that her transfer had 
been cancelled."

"Well, obviously not, because here she is," the first nurse 
replied.  "Don't worry about it, they screw up these transfers 
all the time.  As long as we've got her and her paperwork, we're 
fine." 

"What does the big red 'ES' on her forehead mean?" the second 
nurse asked, running her fingers over the writing on my forehead.

"It means that we're supposed to give her electroshock therapy." 

OH, NO!  SHOCK TREATMENT!  I started to struggle and scream into 
my gag.  Someone had to listen to me.  It was a mistake!  IT WAS 
A MISTAKE!  TAKE OFF MY GAG!  SOMEONE HAD TO LISTEN!  I'M A DOCTOR! 

"Looks like someone doesn't want to take her medicine!" the older 
nurse said, with a laugh.  She produced a large jar of lubricant, 
which I eyed with horror.  "Just smear plenty of this goop on her 
head and attach the electrodes.  I'll be in to help to help you 
throw the switch in a second."

"But I thought the machine was broken." 

"The new one is.  But we got the old machine out of storage.  It 
really shocks the piss out of them -- literally -- which is why 
we use the diaper.  But it does the job.  Just make sure you use 
plenty of lube, or we'll burn that chrome dome of hers." 

"Should we give her a sedative?" the younger nurse asked.

"No.  We used to...it kept them from pulling muscles.  But now we 
just strap them down real tight.  It's a lot cheaper that way."  
I struggled helplessly in my bonds.  This couldn't be happening 
to me. 

The nurse wheeled me into the "treatment room," and hooked me up 
to the huge machine.  I knew that I would have to take whatever 
they dished out until Monday.  But, on the brighter side, I knew 
that after this "treatment," I'd be too senseless to care when 
Tyrone and Roscoe came back to use me tonight....



Edited by C. Lakewood


