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....  

