The Institute

Chapter 1: The New Job

A large stone room with stone walls and vaulted ceilings. In it, a group of women, all but one dressed in black. They are wearing tight, shiny clothing - rubber? - gas masks, corsets. Not a single square inch of skin is visible. One is limp, barely conscious, several tubes and wires coming from her head and groin area. Her feet, clad in ballet heel boots, are dragging on the ground. The others are carrying her. The last woman follows, wearing red latex. Her face is blank, the only visible feature a zipper covering her mouth. She takes notes on a clipboard.

The others install the limp woman in a rectangular enclosure of some sort. Cables and wires are connected. She is suspended, cuffs and straps holding her on her knees and hands. The woman in red inspects the work, checking every connection, every bond. Her finger briefly caresses the bound woman. The red woman nods, and one of the others turns a valve. The enclosure begins to fill with a clear liquid, which engulfs the bound woman after a few languid minutes. The valve is shut off, a button is pushed and there is a bluish flash. The liquid grows slightly opaque and turns into a hard gel. The woman in red inspects the various meters and dials. She nods to the others, and they leave, leaving the limp woman suspended in the gel, kept alive by various feeding, breathing and evacuation tubes. The wires led to sensors and… other devices. 

I looked myself in the mirror again, nervous about my first day. Average height, brunette, average looking :/ … I guess I matched my drab "businesswoman" attire, a gray jacket and knee length skirt ensemble. I was wearing cute flats - I had thought about heels, but given the nature of the job, perhaps I wouldn't need them.

I stepped out of my small apartment, got in the old car my parents had given me five years ago, and headed downtown. I had almost sold it, as debt mounted, inflation climbed, and jobs dried up. I considered moving back with my parents, but I remembered that Uncle Doug had promised me a favor, many years ago. And since he was a big shot politician, perhaps he could help?

He was grave when I reminded him of the favor he owed me, but cheered up when I told him what I wanted. A job? Of course! Within 3 days he had set me doing office work for one of his political allies and assured me this was just a temporary solution until he found something better. The work was boring, the pay modest, his ally was boorish, but he feared my uncle too much to do anything too forward. It also allowed me to stop getting deeper in debt at the least. Two months later, he called me with a doozie. I remembered the strange call.

“Hello?”

"Judith! My favorite niece!" boomed my uncle.

"Am I really now Uncle Doug?"

"Well… no. But top 10%! Hahaha! I have a job for you, a good one…." he paused.

"Buuuuut?" I retorted.

"Good salary, decent benefits, great pension" he rattled on

"Buuut?" I repeated.

"So yeah, someone owed me a favor at the feds, and they coughed this Inspector position up. There is an interview, but it should be a formality" he continued.

"Come on uncle, I can hear it in your voice, there is a catch. What's wrong with the job? Am I inspecting sewers?"

"As if the feds would ever deign doing that! Hahaha!" roared my uncle. "But you are right, there is a bit of a catch. First, I want you to do me a favor while there - nothing illegal, or even unethical, of course!"

"Of course. And second?"

"Wellllll…." he paused and added "It's at the Institute."

"The institute?" I responded blankly.

"THE Institute. Oh shit, you don't know? Wow, millennials! Or is it zoomers? Anyway, just go read "The Baron Case" on Wikipedia. LOOOONG story short, this crazy billionaire brainwashed a bunch of women. Huge scandal, as you can imagine, coverup accusations, lawsuits… a real proper mess. It sunk the previous government really. Anyway, part of the settlement of the lawsuits was the creation of this Institute, which looks after these poor women - they can't live in society I'm told. The feds have to have an inspector to, well, inspect the facility and make sure things are ok. The position has been vacant for a while, the first inspector is quite ill I believe."

"Ok… that's… a bid messed up. But I'm not qualified for this job, sure I have a year of psychology at college but, as you know, I dropped out" I replied.

"Well, I don't want you there to evaluate treatment, per se," said my uncle, somewhat slyly. "I want someone I can trust keeping an eye on things," he added. "Our government is trying to cut costs, and we want to lower our budget for the Institute by 5% or so. Having you on the inside should give me the ammo I need to justify a cut. And it's supposed to be untouchable - if we succeed here, the other hospitals and medical centers should fall in line."

"I see… and what am I looking for?"

"This place is a disaster, I'm sure you’ll find tons!" said my uncle.

"And after that?" I asked.

"Oh, you can do whatever you want - keep the job, move on to something else… I think we'll be even. Fair?"

"Fair!" I replied. "Thank you, uncle, this will do!"

That evening he emailed me the details. The offered salary was well over double what I was making now, although I didn't seem to meet the qualification… I didn't have any experience auditing and my one year of psychology was definitely not a masters in the topic. I would have to leave my beloved TO and move out a few hours away in a much smaller city… I didn't really want to go, but my father always had said to go where the work is… and it wasn't working out here. I had been feeling like a failure, and this seemed like a second chance to land back on my feet. It would be so nice not to have to count every penny… Okay, the job looked a bit weird, but hey, well paying work was not something I could pass up.

The interview came soon after. I wasn't confident going in, and I felt it didn't go very well either. The truth is, I wasn't qualified. But, despite this, I got the job! I knew it wasn't based on my performance, and at first, I thought it was my uncle. I later learned that no other candidates had applied…

After reading about the case, I understood why no one wanted the job. I had to admit I was embarrassed I never heard of it, but I guess my late teens wasn't a period where I paid attention to the news. It was astounding.

Someone - known as "The Baron" and never identified, although apparently possessed of vast wealth and power - had kidnapped over a hundred women, and had subjected them to terrible brain washing, conditioning and other types of tortures. There definitely was a strong sexual angle to it, with bondage, sensory deprivation, lots of latex… no wonder the victims were so messed up.

The terrible case was exposed over seven years ago. Some journalist had discovered what was going on, and somehow managed to get herself kidnapped and brainwashed too. Her colleagues had, once they tracked her down, mounted a rescue assault that had been so spectacular that it was impossible to cover up, and the whole affair was exposed. The Baron was never found, and soon speculations that the government must have known and were covering up his identity became rampant. The fact that the police had dismissed the journalists' initial calls to intervene; resulting in the journalists having to do so themselves certainly seemed very suspicious. The families of some of the victims mounted a lawsuit, and the feds and the province rolled over and caved in to shush the whole thing up.

One of the results of this lawsuit was the creation of “The Institute” to look after the victims. The Institute was set up in an old convent - the old stone building was the very same which The Baron and his allies had used to commit their perverted crimes. Since the ownership of the building was so tangled that no one could determine who owned it, the government had simply seized it. No one objected to this "wise cost cutting measure", but it was kind of messed up that the victims were made to stay where they had been so terribly treated. No wonder they wanted someone to inspect the place, this seemed like a recipe for a disaster. I shuddered. I had to go there? What was I getting into?

The move to my new place was uneventful - one small apartment to another small apartment - older but cozier, and the rent was more reasonable too. I didn't know anyone here, and I felt too anxious about the new job to go out and perhaps make new friends. Perhaps once I had settled in? The city seemed so… small. I certainly couldn’t afford to go back to TO to party or some nonsense, I needed to pay bills.

On Monday, I arrived at the office - the feds had a small satellite office downtown, a modest five-story building with an old parking lot. On the fourth floor, I reached the office of the Inspector - me! - and stepped into whatever this was going to be.

"Hello?" I called out.

A small office - a bookcase full of binders, a filing cabinet, a modest desk - mine? - and another one covered in plants and papers. A woman, in her late 50s with tight golden curls and wearing vaguely office-casual attire, got up. She wore pumps with leopard prints. Her face crisped into a smirk.

"Ah, Miss Johnson, congratulations on getting the position.”

"Thank you - Margaret, was it?" I answered. Margaret was part of the interviewing committee. I didn't think I had impressed her much - now I had to work with her?

"Indeed," she replied " The IT guy was by last week; you have an envelope with a temporary log-in under your keyboard."

"Thank you, I look forward to working with you," I answered, somewhat hopeful. I spent the rest of the morning getting set up. After a quick lunch at a local dinner Margaret had told me about and some small talk about the town and its neighborhoods, I asked her for help.

"Margaret… listen, I feel like I need to know more about the Institute. Where should I begin?"

"Have you read the Wikipedia page?" she answered "It's reasonably accurate."

"I have, actually, scary stuff," I replied. "What's next?"

"I suppose you could read Richard's reports? The old inspector" she added to my blank face. She gestured at the binders - there must have been dozens of them.

I grabbed one at random and began reading… it became very clear this wasn't going to do it - the writing was incredibly technical, and acronym usage was excessive. I stopped, and started at the beginning, looking for some kind of aid, or acronym index.

A few hours later, I gave up.

"Margaret, these reports make no sense. "Personality delamination", "time declination conditioning index”, “role dissonance counter feedback" - not to mention the endless acronyms? What is CLSROD? BECMI? TTAOAP?"

"Did you check the acronym sheet? It's in the pink binder,” Margaret replied with a wide smile.

"Yes, I did in fact. Some acronyms are made up of other acronyms which themselves are made up of other acronyms. Some have circular definitions! What use are these reports if no one understands them?!" I said back, heatedly.

"What value indeed," Margaret replied wisely. "Listen, this is your first government position, right? Richard knew what he was doing. There is a reason it's written the way it is."

Was Richard covering up something? If he had… well I wasn't going to decipher this anytime soon, thanks Richard, good job! It would take me months to read and understand these reports… if ever! Maybe I needed to be … bolder, more direct.

"Perhaps," I said. "I'm sure Richard did the job as best as he could. But I'm not Richard. I have to do this my way - and the best way for me to inspect is to inspect - to be there! Let's go."

Margaret balked “Oh no we aren't. It's part of my condition of employment that I am not required to go to the Institute under any circumstances. That place gives me the creeps!" Seeing my unimpressed face she added "Seriously, that place was not good for my mental health. It was this or me leaving, so Richard agreed to change my work description. If you want to go," she concluded, "you go on your own." She paused, and her expression grew contemplative. "It probably IS a good idea for you to go take a look, but there is no rush - there are a number of projects that require your approval, for example."

"No, I am going to go - I'm not approving anything until I understand what I am dealing with. We owe the taxpayers that much” I added, quoting my uncle. "I understand the Institute is at the edge of town?"

"Well, perhaps seeing the place will help you understand," Margaret replied. "But surely tomorrow morning is a better time. Let me email the institute director to advise her of your visit."

"It should be a surprise visit!" I said back, "We don't want them to have time to get ready and hide things."

"Hide what?!" Margaret replied, "it's a treatment facility for women with serious trauma, not some criminal enterprise."

"I am sure there are funds being spent unwisely," I said back.

"Their funding is established by The Settlement and can't be touched,” Margaret replied. "… just let me email them, you can do surprise visits later when you know what you are dealing with, deal?"

"All right, perhaps starting on an even foot will be for the best," I said with a sigh "I'm sorry, we are going to have to work together on this for a while, and I appreciate your input."

"Apology accepted. I'm just a bit … Why did you take the job if you know so little about it… you know this is sort of a career dead end right? No clear path after this, no superior position… It's why no one is applying for it. And we can't make it open to the general public because who knows who would apply!?"

"Well… " I hesitated then admitted "… I got the job through a family connection. I do have some psychology education," I added. My uncle's mission however was a detail I was going to keep to myself.

"Ha! So your relative owed a favor to someone at the department, and found a volunteer to fill the position before Richard's absence started raising too many questions?"

"Something like that. I needed a job, it's rough out there" I replied. A favor for my uncle? Was he using me? I guess he was, but hey, I was getting a job - I could finally claw myself out of debt. I had to make this work! If I could hang on for a few years and be careful with my money…

"That's ok," Margaret continued "as you say, we are in this together, and I would much rather have you than no one at all. I can't do the job by myself, and well, the office has been really empty without Richard. I'm glad to have you. It will work out, you'll see” she concluded with a smile.

Margaret then sat down to write an email to Dr Tamara Reed, the director of the Institute, advising them of my arrival at 10 AM sharp tomorrow. She CCed me, as well as a "Renee Bailey", Dr Reed's assistant. And with that, my first day at work ended… although I felt that perhaps tomorrow would be the first real day…

Chapter 2: The arrival

Due to a random quirk of geography, the Institute was actually closer to my house than the office was. A 15-minute commute away from downtown? Yes please! Maybe this wouldn't be so bad?

I parked my old car on the side of the rural road - the Institute was in a wooded area on the edge of a small village 10 minutes from the edge of town. The lot was at least a dozen acres, maybe a lot more.

On the other side of the road was a property fenced by an 8-foot-tall stone wall with wrought iron spikes on top. A modest metal door with an ancient looking buzzer was the only visible means of entrance. Beyond the wall, trees with dying leaves were visible.

"Better get this over with." I squared my shoulders and crossed the road. I pressed on the buzzer a number of times, until a voice answered "yes?"

The quality of the audio was terrible. "Hello!" I replied loudly "I am Judith Johnson, I am expected."

"We were expecting you on the other side," the voice garbled “One moment."

After a few very long minutes, a loud grating buzz came from the door, and I pushed it open, entering the front yard of the institute. The yard was covered in massive, ancient oaks, leaves turned brown and withered by the season. Lovely. This didn't help the Institute's look, which was of old gray stone - the religious origins of the building were apparent. The windows were old and dirty, a few had been boarded up. The place looked in need of maintenance. The look of the place, combined with the knowledge of what had happened here, resulted in an … aura… of menace. This was the point in the horror movie where you yelled at the protagonist, "don't go in there, run!"

I stopped walking forward and swallowed - I had to do this. This was my best shot. I clenched my fists and stepped forward.

I had to admit, the building must have been impressive a century ago. A simple gravel path led to broad stone steps, flanked by stone angels, which ascended to large wooden double doors, topped by a stained-glass window. Behind them was the central portion of the building, a two-story tall- lobby with two more floors above and with a dome on top. The building was flanked with two wings of roughly equal length, each with three floors. Based on what I had read, this used to be a convent which housed well over 250 nuns. There was more than enough room at least.

Every window was blocked by curtains of some sort. There was no way to see inside, and most of the rooms were dark. My steps faltered again… and the large wooden doors were pushed open. Stepping through was a tall woman with an athletic build - her short black hair tightly curled framing features that were, of their own, fairly attractive, but were made stunning by her imperious confidence. Brown mischievous eyes, a broad smile, dusky skin, luscious lips…

She was wearing a tight dress, shiny and wine colored, with heels to match. Her otherwise bare arms were covered with long black opera gloves, also made of a shiny material. She looked like she belonged on some high couture catwalk, not here.

She smiled broadly at me as I audibly gasped at her appearance. "Miss Johnson? I'm Renee Bailey, Dr Reed's executive assistant, you may call me Renee. Welcome to the Institute, please follow me."

"Errrr… Hello!" I replied, blushing furiously. "…yes, call me Judith."

I was dying to ask why she dressed this way, but it seemed rude, so I bit my lip as I hurried to follow, we climbed up the steps and entered the Institute.

The inside was brighter than I expected. The entrance had an old chandelier and the stained-glass window let in a decent amount of light. The walls were covered with faded paintings, some of what I assumed were important nuns in the convent's history, others depicted religious scenes. The floor was covered in old tiles. I could hear footsteps in the distance, heels clacking on the hard floor, but I couldn't see anyone besides the two of us.

"Please follow me," repeated Renee, as we moved straight ahead then to the left up a long curving staircase. I caught a glimpse of the back of the building, seeing a long corridor. It seemed that the building must have had a 3rd wing toward the back, giving it a rough T shape.

We went back towards the front of the building; it seemed the head office was located above the lobby. "I hope you don't mind steps; the building only has one elevator," she mentioned in passing.

The office was paneled in dark wood, and the furniture was even darker wood upholstered in old black leather. Dust covered diplomas were on the walls, along with filing cabinets and bookcases.

A woman looking at an old laptop glanced at us and got up, extending a hand. She wasn't very tall, but her cream-colored heels gave her a good 4 inch over me. She also wore a white shiny lab-coat… was it rubber? How odd. But unlike Renee's high fashion look, the effect was far less glamorous as under the lab-coat she wore rather old-fashioned clothing - a blouse, a knitted vest, a knee length skirt, beige tights - my great aunt wore this kinda stuff. She looked no more than her early 40s, with curly pale orange hair, freckles. She was quite thin, and her skin was pale – quite the contrast with Renee. Behind large glasses her green eyes were sharp.

Renee nudged me forward, and then closed the door of the office behind me. This is it!

"Miss Johnson? I am Dr Reed, director of the Institute. Welcome aboard."

After a short, sharp hand shake she bid me sit in a chair positioned in front of her desk. I didn’t need a PhD in psychology to recognise the not-so-subtle power play.

"Nice to meet you," I replied, "I will be spending a lot of time here; the oversight of this institute has been lax."

"Ah… yes, Richard's cancer has been difficult for many of us. He will be missed."

Well, that was a nice deflection.

"So… you have 127 patients?" I continued.

"Not exactly. There were 127 victims. A few unfortunately have passed away. 18 more have made sufficient progress to be released. The rest are here - 102 to be exact."

 "So in 7 years only 18 patients were cured?" I narrowed my eyes as I tried to do the math. "That's… what, less than 15% success rate? That's terrible!" I retorted. "This does not seem like an effective use of taxpayer money.” Uncle would be proud of that one!

"14%," Dr Reed replied flatly, "and I disagree with your notion of success… in fact, I think showing you something might be more productive. You need to see what we are up against. Shall we do a little tour? "

"… of course," I replied.

The Dr grabbed a phone and placed a call. "Renee? We are going to the permanent room. Have the way cleared."

"The way cleared?" I asked.

"A number of our patients are very fearful of strangers. We will introduce you in due time of course, but for now it is better to do it this way."

I narrowed my eyes… again this felt like they were hiding things from me. I shouldn't accept this, but for today… Let's go along with it. This "reasonability" wouldn't last forever. Being gracious now might help me be insistent later…

Her phone beeped - Renee reporting the results I supposed - and she got up. I wordlessly followed - the upper floor had a long balcony around the lobby - I could see the top of the chandelier here; it really was an impressive space. Once again, I could hear heels walking away, echoing in the distance. We went left, towards the west wing, through an archway, down a set of stairs, a corridor heading west again (I was doing my best making a map of the place in my head) and then into a room facing the back of the building.

The room was dimly lit by the glow of instruments, old computers, monitors; and filled with large bottles of a strange beige liquid, gas canisters, tangles of wires, charts and supports. The windows had been walled up. It was like a mad scientist set up in the movies. In the middle of the room there was a row of three… aquariums? Tanks? Square containers of thick glass or plastic, filled with a translucent gel and…

"My God, there are people in there!" I gasped. I started backpedaling furiously but Dr Reed caught me by the arm - she was stronger than she looked. "Be not afraid. Look. There is no threat."

The room was quiet, the only sound was the beeps of instruments and my harsh breathing. And yes, in each tank, frozen in the gel, dressed in a tight black fabric, with all sorts of wires and tubes coming out, was a person, a woman. There was no motion, although I could see respirators in the back, quietly feeding air into the trapped person.

"This is what The Baron did to our patients. This is what happened to them. This is what we are up against," Dr Reed said quietly.

I saw that the tanks were numbered 1, 7, 34. I had read about the sexual torture, but I didn't even know that to make of this. "But… but why aren't you taking them out?" I blurted out.

"We can't. Patient number one here,” she replied as she stepped forward and touched the tank, looking directly at the figure within with an odd expression on her face "goes into shock whenever she's taken out. She can survive out of the tank for an hour at most, then her body begins shutting down. We believe she was The Baron's first victim, and it's believed it was someone close to him - a partner, his wife perhaps. Someone important to him. Her brainwave pattern is very unusual. She isn't braindead, but I don't think her mind is intact. Stuck in an eternal, fixed moment…" She continued and pointed at another tank.

"On the other hand, Patient 34's mind is, as far as we can determine, in fairly good shape. However, she has refused to come out - she goes catatonic when she's taken out."

"Wait… Refuses? Why would anyone not want to get out of this … contraption?" I replied. "aren't they being tortured? How can you let this continue?!"

"What was released publicly is… not quite accurate," Dr Reed replied quietly. "The women in these gel apparatus were subjected to an intense regime of sexual stimulation, conditioning and sensory deprivation. If an average person was put in there, they would be completely overwhelmed - the experience would certainly damage their minds, and I would be worried about brain damage too, even a heart attack. But The Baron had a program - the victims were trained, so to speak, until they could withstand this treatment. A bit like how a couch potato who's out of breath after 2 minutes of running can be trained, in time, to run a marathon with relative ease."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at."

"What I'm saying is that although what is going on in there would be torture for most people, to the patients it is an intense and extremely pleasurable experience, one that doesn't end. In a very… twisted way… this perhaps is the closest thing to heaven a human being can attain. Patient 34 has been orgasming non-stop for decades now. No wonder she doesn't want it to end."

I recoiled, unable to comprehend what I had just learned. Orgasming, every hour, every day, forever? How? "So…" I replied, struggling to understand "Patient 34 is addicted to this apparatus?"

"Not exactly. A hallmark of addiction is difficulty in stopping something when one wants to stop. Patient number 1's is, sadly, unable to survive without the gel, and so is patient 7, to a lesser degree. But patient 34 could stop - but doesn't want to. If you spend a lifetime eating stale bread and suddenly are treated to fine French cuisine, are you addicted to it if you refuse to go back to your old diet? "

"So, make her stop?" I said, grasping at straws.

"Miss Johnson, our patients were kidnapped and subjected to twisted sexual experiments without their consent. Their right to self-determination was grossly violated. A keystone of our treatment is consent. We can persuade, cajole even, but we never, ever force them to do anything. And it works."

Dr Reed's expression changed "There is another other reason I wanted to show you this. These are the only three patients we weren't able to help. Every other patient has improved, although I'll be the first to admit that the majority still aren't able to live in modern society. But I have hope for most of them - even 34 perhaps will be able to come out, one day. So no, we don't have a 14% success rate. I contend that it is much, much higher. But it is a process, and it takes time. In the meantime, the Institute provides shelter, structure and daily therapy to the patients."

"This… is a lot to take in. I had no idea it was like this. What do you even… do?"

"Patience, empathy and non-judgement. Our patients have become, through no fault of their own, hyper-sexualized. Their views on sexuality, their experiences, are very different than our own. We have to build a bridge, a path to some kind of normalcy… and it is up to them to walk it. If we treat them with judgment, scorn, or even pity… it won't work. They will retreat back to their own little world."

Dr Reed continued. "It's becoming clear to me that the transition process between your predecessor and you has not been … comprehensive?"

"He's been very ill I'm told," I replied automatically - I’m not sure why I was trying to defend him, the least he could have done was write legibly… "His reports were very detailed but… well, I didn't understand any of them."

"Ah," simply replied Dr Reed. "We had discussed concerns about privacy. If the details of what happened to the patients got out - and especially about their current state now - it could damage their chances in the future to reintegrate society. People are so quick to judge, especially when it's related to sexuality. Richard had assured me that his reports would be discreet, I hadn't realized he had made them incomprehensible. He was quite the character in his own ways… the patients miss him you know; they grew fond of him."

"I see…" Had the old inspector grown too close to his subject?

"But this doesn't help you much, does it?" continued Reed. She sighed. "I have a lot of work to do here. And I'm sure this is enough to take in for one day? Why don't you come back tomorrow at the same time. Renee and I are going to prepare some kind of program, to help you understand how the Institute operates. Once you have a better grasp of our processes and programs, and that you know the staff better, you'll be in a far better position to, well, inspect and report, just like Richard did."

Again, I couldn't help but wonder if she was hiding things from me… but on the other hand, this little demonstration had shown me one thing - things were far stranger, and alarming, than the already rather grim Wikipedia article had hinted at.

"I guess we can do that this way…" I answered hesitantly.

Dr Reed sighed "Listen, if you no longer wish to be the inspector of this facility, I understand. Most people can't bear working here, it's too much for them. It's partially why we have so little staff. I'm sure you could get a transfer."

"Oh no that's not that!" I replied, perhaps too quickly. I knew a transfer, two days after starting work, would simply not do. I knew I wouldn't be able to find another job with this salary. "It's, uh, not quite how I envisioned my inspection of this facility to go."

"Ah I see… Yes, getting a guided tour is not much of an inspection, is it? I understand your concerns. I assure you, once you've become acquainted with our procedures and staff, a few short weeks at most, you will be able to inspect to your heart's content. It is your duty, after all. But surely an inspector new to a job inspecting a factory would have to learn the safety procedures first, if I may draw a parallel?"

"Of course," I answered "Yes, that will do. Same time tomorrow?"

"Yes." She shook my hand again, and for the first time smiled. "Let me get Renee to escort you out."

The tall secretary soon showed up. "The halls are clear, please follow me," she said, and… just like that, we were back outside. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Pretty intense, eh? Not too shook up I hope?" said Renee - for a moment I thought perhaps she was mocking me, but her tone seemed sincere.

"I… how do you stand it?" I blurted out. "I knew what happened here was terrible, but I thought it was over, not ongoing! These poor women…"

"Well, I do it for those poor women. It was so bad when I started here. No one knew what to do. Patients going catatonic. A few even died. But Dr Reed came up with a treatment plan and… at first, I was dubious I'll be honest, but at least it was a plan. And yes, it's taking a long time, but it's working. We expect to release five more patients at the end of the year, perhaps more next year. And don't feel too bad for the patients now. It may seem… strange, even perverted, but most of them are actually very happy."

"It's… I… " I didn't know what to say.

"Give it time," said Renee simply. "Tomorrow will be another step. And then another, and another, and soon you'll get the big picture, and… well I won't deny it's weird, but there is a method to this madness." She changed tone and added. "So tomorrow at 10 AM, but through the back entrance this time. I will email your office some directions."

"That would be lovely, thank you," I replied. She reached the front gate, punched in a code and with a buzz and a clang, my first day at the Institute ended.

Chapter 3: River

Content warning: brief mention of suicide

I had returned to the office that afternoon and spoken to Margaret about my experience… Now I understood why she didn't want to go there. She did recommend I write down some notes, they would be useful for reports later and so I did. I also received the directions for the rear entrance from Renee.

The next day didn't start very well. I woke up with a start following a strange dream - I was at the Institute, and I was being given an award for all my good work. The reward was going into the gel and I, for some insane dream reason, thought this was a great idea! What woke me up was the sudden thought they never had said when I was going to be let out, at which point I began to panic. What was really bothering me about the dream is how - eager - I had been going along with it…

The back of the Institute was also protected by a stone wall and a much bigger, better maintained metal gate. After a much faster buzz-through, I drove a few more minutes on a gravel road through a forested area - the place must have at least 50 acres of land, and noted the cell reception here was almost non-existent. Great. Perhaps it was for the best I hadn't come this way the first time, it was even spookier than the front!

I reached a basic parking lot with a few vehicles - a Mercedes that was at least 30 years old, a rather sporty motorcycle, and a couple of unremarkable cars. The rear of the building - the third wing - was nowhere as impressive as the front - there was a loading dock, a door, a small shed, nothing out of the ordinary. There was a stone pedestal, where an angel or some other statue should have been, but it looked like the statue had never been installed.

Renee was waiting for me, wearing a white blouse and tight black knee-length skirt, still made of the same shiny material, along with what seemed like Louboutin heels and short black gloves. Her radiant smile greeted me, and I rolled down my window.

"Judith, welcome back. Just pick a spot but try not to block the loading dock. Come with me, we have to get you ready." I had to get ready?

After climbing the stairs beside the loading dock and getting in a rather modest entrance, we entered a long corridor, sparsely decorated. We were in the south wing of the building. Again, no one was visible, although I heard at least 2 sets of footsteps moving quickly away from us. Renee was power walking and I almost had to break in a jog to follow her - I was glad I was wearing flats, although that gave Renee a good 8 inches over me. What was the rush!?

"In here,” she said after a minute, and we entered a side room that ended up being a small locker room. "You can take number 7 and leave your jacket there." I look at her somewhat bewildered - all this to reach a locker room? She saw my expression and added, "Sorry I had to rush you in - I'll explain. You have to understand you can't just come in here dressed like this, some of our patients are very sensitive… I'm surprised you weren't informed."

"What do you mean?" I replied. She opened another locker and took out a long white lab coat. It was quite similar to what Dr Reed had worn yesterday. Touching it, I could see it was made of rubber, somewhat translucent but yellowing. "What is this?" I asked. Wait… was she wearing rubber too? Yes! I thought it was some PVC or something, but no, her outfit was made of rubber!

She saw my expression and burst out laughing "You thought I wore latex because of fashion? No, no, no, this is for professional reasons! Although," she added mischievously" I make it look good." Seeing my bewildered expression she continued. "Ok, seriously speaking… The patients here, when they were under the control of The Baron, were made into complete latex addicts. Some of them react very badly when they see clothing made of fabric."

"Is this why the hallways were cleared yesterday? So I have to wear this coat so they don't freak out." I said flatly. I had thought Dr Reed wore her coat in case a patient threw up or something.

"Precisely," Renee replied, "It will be easier if you wear this coat than constantly having to make sure you don't cross paths with those patients."

I sighed. "Sure." I slipped the coat on. It was smooth and slippery - I later learned it was chlorinated - and cool to the touch. Soon though it got rather warm, and I started sweating in my clothes. Great, just great.

Renee took her phone and typed something in. After a few moments, she received a reply. "Dr Reed is ready to see you now, as is River. Follow me."

"River?"

"Yes" she replied "Dr Reed thinks it would be good if you met one of our patients today, and she's named River. She knows who you are and is looking forward to meeting you."

"Oh… okay, that makes sense." I wasn't sure what else I could say. I never realized I was going to have to talk to the patients, but well, perhaps I would start making sense of what was going on? I was going to want to pick my own patients to speak with, I was sure Reed was presenting me with her star patient… but perhaps that would be an easier way to start? I could always push later.

We came out of the locker room and headed towards Dr Reed's office. And I started seeing patients. And… I didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this. They were clearly keeping their distance, but they were close enough that I could see a fair bit of details. Each was dressed somewhat differently, but there were a lot of common elements: Latex. Corsets. High heeled boots. Most wore gloves. All had their faces hidden in some way - a few wore these latex masks (hoods, they were called) with only their eyes and mouth visible. But even more wore gas masks hiding their features completely. Others…

I grabbed Renee's arm in a fright - "They can't breathe!"

"Of course they can" replied Renee "There are tiny holes, invisible from a distance, which allow them to see and breathe" she explained. "It allows the patients to be completely covered and still be able to function. Most are very reluctant to show any skin."

One - tall and slender, wearing extremely tall heels (I later learned they were called ballet boots), a blue skintight catsuit, a black tutu and with only her eyes visible, did an elaborate bow in my direction and then pirouetted away. I was taken aback by the gesture but couldn't help but notice how graceful she was.

Renee smiled broadly. "Ah, I think she likes you! She's called Alexandra, she used to be a ballet dancer long ago."

"I, uh, ok?" I mumbled back, trying not to blush. Why was I blushing?! We soon reached the lobby, where a few more patients were going here and there - a contrast to yesterday's deserted status. I guess it was because I had the rubber lab coat now? There seemed to be very little supervision in sight - something to report on. Hmmm

Once again, we went up the stairs, and into Dr Reed's office.

"Miss Johnson, I am glad to see you back. Please come in!"

She was wearing her lab coat again but… her outfit underneath was quite similar to what she had worn yesterday, but it too was made of rubber?!

"I trust Renee has explained to you the need of wearing latex? Good! Let me tell you about River." I never got the chance to ask about her outfit as she pressed on.

"River is patient 87. She is doing fairly well, and perhaps will be able to leave in a few more years. Her communication skills are good, and she knows quite a fair bit about the institute. I also felt that it would be good for her to well, meet and converse with someone from the outside, so to speak, seeing as she has no relatives visiting. We sadly don't know who she was before her capture - DNA tests didn't pick up anything. She gave herself that name.” I nodded, and she continued.

"For today, an initial meeting will be enough. But if it goes well, and I hope it does, I hope that she can be the one showing you around the place, given how busy Renee and I are running the Institute. If it goes well, we will proceed tomorrow with your first real tour. If not, we'll try something else."

"So, it would just be her and I? Is that… safe?" I replied.

"Oh yes - the patients aren't violent, I assure you,” said Dr Reed. "Before you meet her, I perhaps should explain the basis of our treatment, so you can understand River and the other patients better. You must wonder how The Baron managed to capture and brainwash 127 women?"

"I must admit I hadn't thought of it"…

"The Baron had staff - people working for him. Some died during the police assault. His doctor used to work here. He killed himself in this very office when the police showed up, leaving a small note behind - "I had no choice" - I wonder what hold The Baron had on him… "

Someone had killed themselves here? Jesus! My eyes darted around, looking for bloodstains.

"Anyway, at one point I imagine the workload became too great. So The Baron began a new type of conditioning for some of the victims, he turned them into drones - living robots if you will - with very strictly defined behaviors. These drones helped with the maintenance of the other victims - monitoring, feeding, that sort of thing."

"This just keeps getting worse and worse!" I exclaimed.

"Quite… and yet," she replied. "This drone programming was the crack in the patient's conditioning. The Baron was a genius at this stuff, and I adapted his methods. The drone programing essentially created a new "layer" to their minds, one that can function while their base personality remains in their inner world. But the modified programming I created is nowhere as prescriptive as what The Baron did. So when they encounter something new, something not in their programming, they have to improvise, adapt, think… and this creates a link between the layer facing the world and their inner mind, locked in orgasm. After all - they still remain one person, one brain. This process takes a lot of time and can't be rushed, but slowly the new layer becomes more and more … complete."

"So… it's like they have multiple personalities?" This was astounding. I had no idea such conditioning was even possible.

"Yes, something like that. Eventually the link between both personalities becomes so strong that they regain their memories. This part of the process can be quite difficult, however. I have a strong suspicion that The Baron preyed on women who had already been traumatized, with few social bonds. It's no wonder that roughly half the victims have no one ever step forward claiming they were related."

She continued. "So please remember this in your discussion with her. You can ask her questions and such, but please be kind - she is a patient, after all, a victim. But let us get on with it. Ready?"

"I guess so. Yes" I replied, trying to look confident and fairly sure I was failing.

"I will take you to her myself. She's waiting for us in our interview room, this is where we do one on one therapy."

We went around the balcony circling the lobby into the west wing. Dr Reed knocked on a door. "River? Miss Johnson is here to see you." "Come in" a flat voice replied.

I stepped in, and for the first time saw River. She was, as I expected, dressed in latex head to toe, the black rubber covering her somewhat curvy figure. Her face was covered with a gasmask with particularly round lenses - a C4 I later learned, over a black hood that covered her entire neck and face. This hood had a short tube on top of her head, where came out a very long ponytail, the brown hair reaching past her bum. This was the only visible "human" aspect as everything was covered in black. She wore a short black corset, short puffy sleeves and long opera gloves. Her legs were entirely covered by a long flowing latex skirt, with high heel boots peeking under. Unlike a few others I had seen, very little metal, buckles or the like. Despite the 4 inch heels, we were about the same height. I couldn't see her eyes through the tinted lenses of the gasmask.

Perhaps the strangest aspect was the small keyboard attached to her chest. Her fingers danced on the keys and a feminine, slightly metallic voice flatly intoned:

"Hello Miss Johnson, I am River. Nice to meet you." She extended her gloved hand for a handshake. After a moment of hesitation, I shook it - her fingers were warm and the latex smooth.

"Uh, Nice to meet you River, you can call me Judith.”

"I like your hair," she said flatly - although I was beginning to see that she communicated the equivalent of a vocal tone by body language - it was quite clear that the above was meant in a friendly, if perhaps shy, way.

"Ah, thanks, I like yours too, it's… very long.”

"Thank you, I am proud of it. It is not easy to maintain in these circumstances," she replied.

We were talking about hair?! "So uh, why don't we take a seat, and you can tell me about yourself."

"OK. I am patient 87. I am called River. I am not a human. I am a rubber doll."

"Not human!?" I interrupted.

"Yes," she replied - I could sense she had expected the question. "I am not a person; I am a sexual object. I am a surface persona, a program, created by hypnosis and conditioning. A chatbot made of bone and baloney, hehe.

Even though Dr Reed had essentially told me about the created personalities, it was still a shock to see it in person. "You seem human to me," I blurted, "it's not because you are wearing an outfit that you…"

River typed quickly, interrupting me. "What do you see?" and held up her hand.

"What?"

She again said, "What do you see?" holding up her hand intently.

"… your hand?"

Her posture changed - less intent, but still serious. "You only believe you see my hand. But you do not. You see a latex glove, covering a hand. The hand is hidden from you. And you are hidden from the hand. The latex is a barrier between her and the world. It hides her. It protects her."

"And… you are the latex?" I said.

"In a way, yes."

"And you are protecting her - her, the person wearing the latex. One of the … targets… of The Baron?"

"Yes." She hugged herself rather intently at that moment. I waited for her to keep typing.

"I guess you want to know about … patient 87. We know very little. No DNA match, no name, no fingerprint match, no date of birth… Only that she was captured 16 years ago, and that her hair was allowed to grow."

"I see…" I didn't know what to say to that.

"Dr Reed has been able to determine that several of The Baron's victims were women with various troubles - poor mental health, isolated. Victims. She has no one."

"And you want to protect her? That seems like a very human emotion."

She hugged herself again "Maybe. Thank you for saying that. Dr Reed says that I am becoming more human, that I am connecting with her. But she doesn't want to get out. The better River becomes, the more I can protect her."

Ooooof. Dr Reed was going to have a hard time with this one. Let's change the topic a bit.

"Soo… you speak with a keyboard?"

"Yes, I use a text to voice software, and I emote with my body" She followed this by the most exaggerated over the top "ain't I adorable" shrug - I couldn't see her eyes but I could imagine them blinking very fast at me, and I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

She inhaled sharply and clapped her hands, her equivalent of laughter I hoped.

"Sorry I shouldn't be laughing. But uh, why?"

"I speak with this keyboard because you, like many others, don't know sign language. Also because I have been gagged for 16 years and my voice no longer works," she replied flatly

"Oh dear!" I exclaimed. "Do you think you'll be able to speak again with time?"

"Maybe, but that won't happen. I keep all her orifices sealed at all times."

"Sealed?" I asked. I looked at her blankly until I understood her meaning, and I began blushing furiously. I was mortified.

She must have seen me shrivel under the intense awkwardness as she suddenly began typing very fast.

"Oh, I am so sorry. We rubber dolls are very frank with one another about our bodies and the various items that bind us. I did not intend to shock you. Should I continue?"

I blushed even further. I managed to squeak out "uh, yes go ahead."

She continued “It is not possible to isolate her entirely from the world - the human skin or mind didn't evolve to do this. But I do the most I can. This includes a gag, anal and vaginal plugs, catheter, a complex mouth gag, nostril tubes, ear plugs…”

Wow. "Isn't that … Uh… distracting?” I asked. I wanted to die.

"It is very pleasant. Extremely pleasant. Did Dr Reed explain pergasm to you?"

"Uh, I don't think so?" I replied… oh god what was coming.

"Although I am aware of the stimulations I am receiving, it is … her… that is receiving them. The Baron exposed her to greater and greater levels of stimulations, to a point where her orgasms melded into one. She has not stopped since. Why we call it pergasm - permanent orgasm."

"So… you're … coming… right now?

"I, River, am not. But she is." Once again, she hugged herself.

"I, uh, well…" I jumped on the first idea that came to mind "Are all the patients like this?"

"The majority are," replied River. "A smaller portion have chosen to stop, but many of us don't see the need to. I can function well this way, after all."

And suddenly I understood why Richard wrote his report the way he did. He had to have hidden the truth. If this came out … people would flip out. Suddenly, the victims are no longer victims, they are perverted, to blame for their circumstances… I wonder if my uncle knew? Well, I wasn't going to bring it up! He didn't seem very understanding about those things… These poor women didn't deserve that. I was quite sure this wasn't the "scandal" he was looking for. And while I firmly intended to "do my job", this is something I would not, could not share with him.

"So… what do you do here?" I continued. What kind of life did River have?

"My day's schedule is quite full," she replied. "It is divided into 3 portions: Rest, work and other tasks. Every day I have to look after hygiene, exercises, therapy, but also socializing and fun with my sisters."

"Your sisters?"

"Yes, the other patients here," she replied. "I have many friends. We are united by our shared experience. Very few outsiders understand."

"So, what kind of work do you do here?"

"There are a lot of tasks to do here. The latex outfits have to be washed, dried, and repaired sometimes. There is a pair who specialize in helping us dress. I was part of the gel team. I helped my sisters get in and out of the gel bondage and conditioning apparatus. It has to be done the right way, or else a sister could get hurt. We look after each other. It gives meaning to our work."

"But now I have a different job - I will be your guide. Tomorrow we will get you a gasmask."

"A what? Why? Is the air bad or something?" I answered, puzzled.

"No, but your face is too exposed for a few of the patients, I think. You will get better observations if you don't stand out too much," she replied.

"I see…" I replied. I really didn't like the sound of that, at all. Renee wasn't wearing a gasmask! Once again, I felt I was getting in over my head. "Perhaps I should get going soon? You must have many things to do?" I needed some time to think about this new requirement.

"Well, I would like to ask you some questions too,” said River.

Oh. "That is only fair I suppose."

"Do you have a family?"

"Uh, I have my parents of course. I'm an only child, I have no siblings. All my cousins are on the west coast," I answered.

"Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?" she asked coyly.

"Erm, no… I haven't had much luck with relationships to be honest. And I had to move to get this job, so I don't know anyone in town either."

"That is ok," she replied cheerfully. "You will make friends here!"

"I hope so," I replied, and I was a bit surprised when I realized I actually meant it - these patients were bizarre but… oddly fascinating. It was clear that River cared a lot about her "sisters" - and herself. She had heart.

"So,” she continued, suddenly serious "Why did you take this job?"

"Uhhhhh"…. "Well, I have training in psychology, and I needed the money. I'm not sure if you listen to the news, but things are difficult out there. Inflation is very high, it's hard to make ends meet. This seemed like a good career opportunity." I didn't think River needed to know about how I got the job exactly. "It's why I chose to move here, for work."

"The outside world seems very complicated,” she replied, pensive.

I chuckled, "It has its challenges…"

There was a long pause. "Perhaps now is a good time to stop? I have reports to write, after all."

"You should become a rubberdoll, there is no paperwork to do," she replied. As I gaped at her, startled, she clapped her hands again - she was joking - and I couldn't help but chuckle too.

"Ha! Well, if the reports get too bad, maybe I will," I replied. "Let us go see Dr Reed." A few moments later we were at her door.

"Ah, Miss Johnson. River. I trust it went well?"

"Yes", I replied, "we got acquainted a bit. I'm starting to understand this place a little better, I think."

"Excellent. You will be back tomorrow for the tour - and you are ok with taking it with River?" she asked? After I confirmed, she called Renee to escort me out.

"So how was your talk with River?" asked the dark bombshell, as we walked towards the locker room.

"Oh, pretty good, I think. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the two-personality thing."

"Don't worry too much about it. Just treat them like a person. Besides, River's a sweetheart."

We reached the locker room, and I began removing the rubber lab-coat. "Ooof, I got so sweaty in that. My clothes are all frumpy now. How do you manage?"

"By not wearing fabric under latex, it's quite easy” replied Renee, in a casual tone.

Huh. Well I wasn't going to get naked under that coat! "How come you don't have to wear a mask?" I asked.

"Ah - well maybe I should, but I've been here since quite early - before Dr Reed really. The patients got to know me without a mask. Besides, I don't do a lot of work with many of them, I'm mostly doing administrative work. Anyway, why don't we leave the lab coat by the door for you tomorrow? You can take it and come here and finish changing."

"Oh, that would be a little easier, wouldn't it? " I replied. "Anyway uh… I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I look forward to it," she replied with a wide smile. Let me walk you to the parking lot."

I drove to the office and wrote down some notes, and tried again to read Richard's report. They were still … baffling… but I could see a glimmer of sense, a tantalizing promise that there was something in there beyond a jargon salad. I mentioned to Margaret that Richard must have been very dedicated to his job, and that I was beginning to understand why. She smiled at me, and I thought that perhaps I had started to win her over with that comment. We spent the rest of the afternoon well, gossiping a bit about the Institute.

I drove home feeling a little bit better. The job was far more bizarre that I could have ever imagined but… it was important. These people deserved to be looked after.

Chapter 4: The Tour

Once again, I had dreamed about the institute… sort of. River and I were out at an ice-cream parlor, enjoying a milkshake. River was drinking hers out of a straw, and I had somehow managed to spill some of mine down my shirt. I grabbed a napkin and started cleaning it, noting that underneath my work clothes I was wearing black latex. Much easier to clean up! But then I looked up, and my parents were looking at me from the booth beside us… at which point I awoke, startled.

What a strange dream… What was that about? My parents weren't particularly conservative, but they always were a fair bit… reserved about sex. Oh, they wouldn't understand this job, at all. I had told them a vague line about a government job… They were happy for me, proud even. I would need a better cover story - heck I should mention this to Uncle Doug, I didn't want him spooking them. Perhaps it was better if they rarely spoke?

I arrived at the Institute again. With the lab coat by the back door, the "admission process" went a lot smoother. I slipped it on and headed to the locker room, where I was going to prepare my outfit. I had decided that if I was going to dress more to "soothe the patients", I had to take some kind of control and not just let them pick stuff for me. I didn't want to wear a gas mask!

I thought about what to do about my clothing… Yesterday had been uncomfortable, and I remembered Renee's advice. I decided to strip partially, keeping my bra and tights on. Modesty preserved; sweaty clothes avoided. Brilliant. I also was wearing cute ankle booties with a 3-inch square heel - nothing too crazy, but surely it would help me fit in better than the flats I had been wearing would have.

I then took out an old white rubber swim cap and put it on my head, followed by swim goggles and an old cloth facemask, a leftover from the pandemic. A lot more comfortable than some gas mask!

I grabbed a pen and notebook and headed in, saw Renee who waved while holding a clipboard. Today she was wearing a matching set of a rather elaborate blouse and knee-length skirt, in a metallic purple and some black ruffles, along with a little hat perched on her head - also rubber, of course. "So, you're meeting River at 10 AM for your tour, but Dr Reed would like to talk to you a bit first." I nodded, and a few minutes later I found myself in Dr Reed's wood-paneled office again.

"Miss Johnson! Welcome back. I like the outfit, shows… Initiative." She said as she got up and extended her gloved hand - she now was wearing latex gloves, but otherwise was dressed the same as yesterday. "I must admit I was a bit worried that you would take weeks to get used to the dress code, but I'm glad you're leaning into it," she added.

“Oh, well after speaking with River, I felt motivated to give it a bit more effort,” I answered with a weak chuckle.

"Ah, speaking of that, I wanted to talk to you before the tour about your conversation with River yesterday. How did it go?" She asked, as we both sat down.

"It was… Very interesting. I think I'm finally starting to understand what we are up against. These people have been brainwashed, and we have to un-brainwash them, but have to be gentler about it?" I said, hesitantly.

"Indeed,” she said, "And do you approve of my treatment method?"

Ooof, that was a serious question - and an important one.

"Well… I'm not sure if I'm really qualified to answer. I have to admit it was hard to believe at first. But these are such unique circumstances, it seems like it may be the best of a very limited set of options - or the "least wrong" way, maybe," I said. "The fact that it's already worked a number of times shows it has some validity, at the very least."

My answer seemed to please her. "Thank you. I don't think we could have worked together if you disapproved of my methods. And you are correct - it isn't easy, counterintuitive at times. It demands a lot of us. But the patients are improving."

"Talking to River certainly was an eye opener - she definitely is doing much better than those poor ones stuck in the gel cubes you showed me on Tuesday," I added "But… At the same time, I was thinking… You want the drone process to start drawing out the real person, so they merge together… But with River, is this really what is happening? I don't think River wants to merge at all - I think she wants to keep her inner self safe, buried inside… Squeezed into almost nothingness."

"A bit like a pearl, don't you think?" replied the doctor. "I cannot guarantee that the treatment will be completely successful with all the patients, or have the same effect. Perhaps with patient 87, River is what we will get. But as you said, it is already a significant improvement."

"So, what do we do?" I replied.

"We watch. We support her. We let her decide, in her own time. And in the meantime… Be her friend, perhaps? " she replied, her eyes seeking. I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. I didn't have many friends either…

"Anyway," she continued "About today's visit. Like yesterday, please be respectful, not all the patients are as fluent as River. Understand that some of them may be scared, but others could be curious too. It's hard to predict. But I'm sure that River will smooth over any difficulties. And please, no photos of recordings. Note taking is fine but that is it. On and there she is."

I turned around and saw River waiting at the entrance. She was wearing the same as yesterday - black latex head to toe, her face covered by a hood and gas mask, with a very long ponytail coming out of the top. Strapped to her chest was her keyboard, which she used to communicate with me.

"Hello Judith, I like your outfit! Are you ready for the tour?" intoned her voice synthesizer flatly - but I could tell from her body language she was looking forward to this.

 "Of course, it's nice seeing you again," I replied. I stood up, and now that I too was wearing heels, I definitely stood taller than she was, although the ponytail was giving her a bit of "artificial" height. "Let us begin.”

"Yes. I thought I would start by bringing you to the gelling station," said River, and we went down the stairs until we reached the ground floor and headed into the west wing. We passed the room where I had seen the 3 patients bound in cubes, and went next door to a much bigger room, which must have taken a third of the wing. This room was filled with a series of large plastic cubes - there were more people in there, well over a dozen!

"River, I thought only 3 patients were still in the gel, what's going on?" I asked, troubled.

River answered "There are 3 patients who are in the cubes weeks at a time. But there are 18 more who still are dependent on the cubes, they get out daily. Let's watch, shall we?"

At one of the stations a group of women, all covered in latex of course, were clustered around one of the cubes. One stood out in particular, as she was dressed in a bold red latex catsuit. Her features were completely hidden by her hood, and she was wearing a tight black leather corset and posture collar, both trimmed in red. She had a clip board and seemed to be wordlessly directing the others. After a series of checks were made, four of the women - fellow patients I had to assume - started pulling on ropes, and the figure within was slowly pulled out of the gel, which seemed to have gone liquid for some reason. She was dressed completely in latex, with not an inch of skin showing, wearing a tight corset, feet bound in severe heels, hands in balled mittens. As she rose in the air, unmoving, the liquid slipped off and fell back into the cube.

"The gel quickly liquefies when treated with certain salts. It makes removal far easier" intoned River.

Working together and with the assistance of a sort of lifting device - I saw how it was mounted on rails on the ceiling above the cube and could probably be moved from one station to the other - they lowered her on a stretcher waiting beside the cube. One of the helpers started removing tubes connected her to what I supposed was a breathing system, feed etc., while another toweled away the excess gel still clinging to her. Yet another fiddled with some valves besides the cube and the now vacant cube slowly started draining away - I wondered what they did with the liquid. Meanwhile, the lady in red and some others were moving over to the next cube, moving the lifting device over.

Two of the patients started wheeling the stretcher away. "Let's follow them," said River and I heartily agreed. I wanted to know more.

As we followed, I asked "So, can you explain the difference between these and the three, uh, permanents?"

River typed and walked "These 18 are in the initial stages to get out of their permanent trance. We take them out every day to move their bodies, a sort of physio so to speak. After years of immobility, it takes quite some time to restore the range of motion and basic strength to limbs. That, and you can't wear latex 24 hours a day, it is too harsh on the skin."

I frowned "But what about the 3 permanents? How do they do it?"

"We call it the Blue Substance," River answered simply. "It's a special skin lotion that dramatically increases skin's latex endurance. But we don't know who made it or how to duplicate it. It's one of the mysteries of the place, and with The Baron missing, we don't know how to get more. Thankfully it has a long shelf life. And because there are only three of us left that don't take breaks every day, our limited supply is sufficient."

"So, you get out of your outfit every day?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered. After a pause she added, "I don't like it."

Well, that was interesting…

"Here we are." We were nearer the lobby now but still on the same floor, in a room across the hall. "This is the hygiene station." This was a large room covered in white tiles. The windows were blocked with thick curtains, but the room was well lit. A significant portion of it was blocked from view by drawn curtains on metal frames.

The two patients who had wheeled in the gelled patient left her in the middle of the room, and two others took over - they began first by spraying her down to remove the rest of the gel. They then wheeled her out of sight, behind a hospital green curtain.

"They will now remove her latex, wash her and do other hygiene procedures. We don't like being outside our latex, so this is done away from sight." River explained. "The washers and the dressers are the only ones who ever see us outside our outfits."

I nodded. There seemed to be a strange combination of hypersexuality and … Shyness? I would have to investigate if River's feelings on avoiding being seen out of latex was common. I heard a door open.

"It sounds like the previous patient is ready, let's follow her,” said River. "She just went through what the one we followed is about to."

We stepped into the corridor and followed another wheeled stretcher being pushed by another pair of patients. On the stretcher, motionless, was another woman (I could tell her apart because of her body type), dressed in a simple catsuit covering her entirely, with no heels, corsets or other accessories. The color was flat, matt black - it looked different somehow.

"Is this rubber too?" I asked.

"No, this is a spandex type of material, quite breathable. It allows patients to take a break from latex while remaining entirely covered. After her hygiene session she was transferred to the dressing station and this catsuit was put on her," answered River.

We crossed the lobby, following the stretcher, and entered the east wing. We entered another large room, where another few patients were already present. A few were lying on padded tables, all wearing black spandex, while others, in the more "usual" severe latex outfits, seemed to be massaging them, moving their limbs, stretching them…

"This is the physiotherapy room; it is where we perform various forms of treatments to restore motion to the patients who have been in the gel. My first memories after the Institute changed hands are here," explained River.

"I see… Was it painful?"

"A bit," answered River. "It makes this process very slow. Every joint, every limb needs care. We can't stretch them too much too fast, or we might hurt them. They have very little ability to communicate, so we must be careful. We used to have more volunteers that helped us, but this changed. Thankfully there are more of us now able to do the work."

River continued "And here next door we have more immobilized patients - but these ones are no longer dependent on the cube, so it’s a lot less work. So we keep them here. They still receive daily physio and hygiene sessions, of course. We keep a close eye on them as they are receiving hypnotic audio training that is intended to help them move on to the next stage.

"For example, here we have Amber." She indicated a figure, lying down on one of the beds. Unlike many of the others, she was dressed in a "natural" color latex, and she was faintly visible under several layers. Was the name based on the color of the latex? Besides her bed was a small whiteboard. "Amber has some awareness of what is around her, and from time to time will write a very short note on the white board. I think she is very close to being able to move among us."

I looked at Amber - I could see her face somewhat. Her eyes were closed, and she was… Smiling? How odd. Suddenly, I had the urge to talk to her. I leaned over her and said in a calm but loud voice:

"Hello Amber, I'm Miss Johnson, an inspector from Health Canada. I look forward to making your acquaintance!"

River looked at me but said nothing. Amber didn't react… Did her expression change? I couldn't tell for sure. We stepped out of the room.

"Perhaps we could have some lunch?" River asked. I nodded my agreement, and we headed to the cafeteria.

As we walked the halls of the building, we walked by several patients. They clearly had the "look", although the more I looked at them the more individuality I noticed. No element seemed mandatory - almost all were in rubber, but not everyone – was that one wearing a metal suit?! Wild. Most wore a hood, but a few didn't. Most were in heels, but a few wore flats, or even went barefoot. But everyone had least some of these central elements. Beyond that - buckles, chains, locks, corsets, hobble skirts, D and O rings, restraints, gas masks, fishnets… A lot of black, but colors, semi-transparent of various colors, natural colored latex, which was sort of a yellowed white transparent, bits of leather, metal, other materials… The central theme was very fetish, but there were all sorts of variations on the theme, as well as some elements I didn't understand. Why did that one have giant mouse ears and a pig's nose?

I guess I sort of fitted in with my getup, although… I looked at my reflection in a glass door, and I blushed a bit when I realized that the white lab coat was slightly transparent, and it made me look naked underneath… my “casual bra and underwear” plan had backfired a little! More comfortable than with all my clothes, but this wouldn't do. I would have to find a better solution!

We reached the cafeteria, on the third floor of the east wing, where a number of patients were eating. Only a few options were available, and the food was decent but definitely cafeteria-grade. I put some corn, a modest pork chop and some carrots on my plate.

Renee saw us and joined us at the table. River nodded and got up to get her food.

"How are you doing?" asked Renee. "It's a lot," I replied, and she nodded knowingly.

"Does Dr Reed eat at the cafeteria?" I added. "Only rarely," replied Renee "She often eats at her desk. She works long hours, I keep telling her to take a vacation but nope, the mission is too important,” she concluded with a somewhat exasperated chuckle.

River came back, holding a large glass filled with a beige liquid. She used a small rubber tube attached to her gas mask, tucked away until now, and connected it to a straw. She then began drinking the liquid. Looking around, I saw that she wasn't the only one - in fact, more patients seemed to be consuming this fluid than eating regular food.

Renee, anticipating my question, said "It's a nutrition fluid. This is what they were being fed while in the cube. It is a complete food; contains everything they need. A lot of the patients are not comfortable with real food” River looked at us, took a haughty pose and typed on her keyboard "Food is gross, all this chewing and spit and such. I don't know how you do it. This is much more civilized” I looked at her dumbfounded, until I saw Renee was trying very hard not to laugh. I laughed too… But I wondered if River was making jokes to conceal how she really felt. Would she eat again one day?

A little while later, I was done eating the food - River's lunch had taken 2-3 minutes tops, I supposed the liquid was more "efficient" - and was waiting for me to be done. "Shall we proceed"? She flatly asked.

"Lead on," I replied, and we waved at Renee as we left.

We started by a brief stop at the kitchen and pantry, located behind the cafeteria, perhaps the most ordinary part of the building so far, and then moved on, circling the big open lobby towards the south wing, going down the stairs.

Once we reached the ground floor, River took me down the south hall. I had been through here a number of times, but besides the locker and the loading dock, I didn't know much about this area.

"Here we have one of the busiest rooms in the building: the washing room. As you may know, latex has to be washed by hand, every time it's washed," said River. "We've developed systems to make this go faster and easier, but it's still a lot of work."

The room was filled with large basins of soapy water, filled with all sorts of latex items. Latex-glad patients were swirling the latex around and transferring items from one basin to the next. One of the latex-clad patients briefly looked up from her work and waived, and I waved back, somewhat startled.

"And as you can see, the latex is then put on drying racks which are wheeled over to the drying room next. Items are then sorted and distributed to the right room," added River.

"There must be hundreds of items here, how do they know where each one goes?" I replied.

"Ah, they are all numbered. Each item of mine, for example, has the number 87 on the inside - my patient number" explained River.

We exited the room, and I saw another patient, in a latex maid outfit with puffy sleeves and with her black latex decorated with silver piping. She was mopping the floor. I decided to wave at her, but she didn't respond. Huh.

"A few patients have been assigned maid duties to keep the Institute clean. I used to be a maid a few years ago, but I was promoted, so to speak," explained River.

We then went into the east wing, passing some lockers and coming to a large room at the end of the wing, which took the entire width of the building at this point. We entered, the room was dark and there was a peculiar odor…

River found the light switches, and I recognized the smell - varnished wood. We were in an old gym - the lines of the floor were faded, and the wood was in poor shape, but this clearly had been a basketball court at some point. "We rarely use this room as a gym, but sometimes we have social gatherings here."

I smiled at the thought - now that must be a strange gathering! But still, I guess it was a healthy activity? What did they do? I couldn't help but suddenly imagine the place full of latex-clad, shiny bodies clinging sensually to each other. I shook my head - where did that come from?! "I suppose that it's hard to play volleyball in your uniforms," I said, laughing weakly.

"Haha, not very practical," replied River. “Let us move on, there is not much to see here.”

We then visited the individual rooms where the patients slept. These have been converted from the nun's bedrooms and were quite small - a cot, a small desk and chair, a dresser for the latex, not much else. They took most of the rest of the south wing.

"Part of the west wing's 2nd floor is devoted to health, but The Doctor isn't available at the moment, we should come back next week," continued River.

"Dr. Reed you mean?" I replied.

"No, The Doctor. She's an older patient who was a doctor in her previous life. She assists Dr Reed in making sure we are healthy. Dr Reed is a psychologist; The Doctor is a real doctor - I mean she deals with illnesses of the body," explained River.

Huh - I was looking forward to meeting this doctor…

We moved up a floor and River continued. "And here on the 3rd floor of the west wing we have the learning area - a library, a computer room, as well as therapy rooms for single and group therapy with Dr Reed."

The library was not very impressive, filled with old books. The computer room had more modern equipment, but to my eye the equipment still seemed a bit dated. Two patients were seemingly surfing the web. Were they allowed to communicate with the outside world?

I kept scribbling on my notepad, making a rough map of the place - the building was quite large.

"Wow, this is a lot” I had to say. "There are so many things that need to be done!"

"Indeed, we have to be self-sufficient, " said River with a nod, "We have very few outsiders, and not everyone can help out."

"Yeah" I said, "there are 18 patients in daily cubes, 3 in permanent cubes, and …?

"21 cubers, and 17 in quasi permanent bondage," replied River "We call them as a group ‘the immobiles’, although to be frank, many of us mobiles - 62 of us - are still quite fond of immobility.

Huh. I replied: "So … What about the rest of the patients? The … Mobiles?"

"Yes," River said. "I am a mobile. Hahahaha!" She then pretended to dangle objects in front of her… Like a mobile?!

"Oh my god River!" I replied, snorting.

"Seriously, I am - but let me explain. First we have the ‘old drones’. They were created by The Baron to assist him running this place and these four have never managed to snap out of their drone programming. Their behavior is very rigid and precise, they have little or no imagination. They wear white piping on black outfits,” said River.

"That's so sad - they are stuck? Like that forever?" I said, frowning.

"It is sad, yes" replied River. "But we have hope that it is not forever. Dr Reed has cured a few already and hasn't given up."

"Ok, what about the others?" I said, "can you tell me about them?"

I wrote quick notes on my clipboard as River spoke - this was important information, and it would have to be corroborated. Proper report stuff! Maybe I could be a bureaucrat ha.

"There are the ‘new drones’, there are currently 10 of them. They have the rigid programming, but it is just a stepping stone to the next step. The transition from immobile to mobile takes time. Most patients only spend a few years at most at this new drone stage. I was a new drone for about a year. They wear silver piping, and we sometimes call them the robots," continued River.

Oh - this was interesting, I thought. "So the maid we saw earlier was a new drone and that's why she didn't wave back? I asked.

"Correct," typed River back. "But it's good you waved to her; interactions can help bring them out of their shell.”

"So, what happens when these new drones do come out of their shell, what's the next step?" I replied.

River continued: "Being a new drone and being exposed to new situations that are outside your programming, it draws part of your inner self out. The programming isn't enough anymore, and we develop a personality, preferences. We call those in this stage ‘emergents’. We can wear almost anything, but, as I am sure you've noted, there are a lot of common elements."

"Like the latex and the hoods and the corsets and such,” I asked.

"Yes," typed River "I am an emergent. There are things I do that others do too - like my black latex. Like the gas mask. But no one has hair like me!" She added, then did a cute little pirouette.

I laughed again. How could I not? "Please go on," I said, trying to suppress laughter.

"OK,” River became stiller and more formal in her body language. "There are 39 emergents. Many patients move on beyond this state. But it is possible that some patients will never move on beyond the emergent stage. It is pretty fun here, in a very regimented way."

"Then," she continued, "some emergents decide it is time to return to the real world. We call them ‘launchers’. There are currently eight launchers, and they spend more time in training, learning, in therapy, studying I suppose, although they still perform some work at the convent too. They wear purple piping.

And then there are the patients who have left the Institute. We call them ‘free’. And then there are the departed - those who died,” concluded River, who then made a sad expression with her hands - trying to duplicate an emoji I supposed.

I glanced at a clock - we already were at mid afternoon, and we even hadn't done the basement. And my notes about the work and the patients were so rushed and cryptic, I was going to have to spend an hour or two beefing them out to at least have a somewhat complete first draft.

"Listen River, why don't we call it a day? I have to go uh, type out my notes and such. I'm paid to write reports I guess!"

"Haha, and my job is to help you out. Of course. We can do the rest of the building later. But unlike you, I don't have any paperwork. I guess I will go help a gel team."

"Ok, you do you!" I replied. Was that… Weird? I felt myself blushing and was suddenly glad of the mask.

I left the Institute and went to the office. and spent the rest of the afternoon typing out my notes and talking to Margaret a bit. She seemed to approve of what I was doing, and told me that some of Richard's reports noted the same things. I looked into it and… Damn it, she was right. Richard was describing exactly what was going on, but in such a bizarre and convoluted way that if you hadn't seen and understood what he had experienced, it was … Almost as if it was censored. Most of his writing still made no sense to me, but for the first time I had hope that one day I would understand more, perhaps even most of it.

I would read some more reports in the morning, but I waved to Margaret and headed home – this was more than enough for one day!

 Chapter 5: Red and Spyder

I had another strange dream. This time I was on some boat for some reason, and some sea monster was after us. I was struggling with the giant rubbery tentacles when the alarm rang, and I found myself with the bed sheets twisted around me, covered in sweat. Just the sheets haha, nothing to worry about, right?

I had stopped at the office earlier and spent an hour reading some of Richard's reports. As usual, they were nearly impenetrable, but I had managed to discover something - there were volunteers working at the Institute before, but this had to be canceled. Why? Gibberish. But perhaps the good doctor would explain? It seemed like as good a time as any to ‘inspect’. And for once I was taking the initiative! Take that Dr Reed! I waved goodbye to Margaret, texted Renee to let her know I was coming, and headed to the institute. I felt a bit more prepared. After some thought, I had decided to wear a one-piece bathing suit instead of underwear today. It seemed like a sensible solution as to what to wear under the long latex lab-coat, and I was happy I had thought of it. It wouldn't look like I was naked at least.

Renee buzzed me in. Once again, I noticed how this side of the institute had no cell reception… At least it was sunny, and I had to admit that the air smelled… refreshing. It probably was a pretty nice spot in the summer, when the leaves were still out. I parked my car in the small gravel yard and entered the old stone building. Renee held the door for me. As usual, she looked imposing, her strong arms covered by long transparent opera gloves, which she wore along with a long blue latex dress. "Welcome back. Thanks for the text… and I like the boots," she said with a broad smile. I smiled back, somewhat restrained - she was too beautiful, I had to be careful!

I followed her inside. In the locker room, I took off most of my clothing, and took another long white lab-coat like latex garment from Renee. She left me in the locker room, and I stripped down to the bathing suit, and slipped on the lab coat. I looked at myself - the dark swimsuit was fairly visible through the latex, but it was ok, I hoped? More comfortable at least, and I felt more covered, for some reason. I put the bathing cap on and the googles, feeling rather silly. I couldn't see myself wearing an actual hood like most of the people here did, nor the snazzy latex secretary outfit River was wearing but… she had grace in that. Although frankly, I suspected Renee could have looked graceful and powerful in a paper bag. I added the face mask, grabbed my notebook and pen, and headed out.

I followed her to the Doctor's office. Today Dr Reed wasn't wearing a latex lab coat. Instead, her clothing, quite similar to what she wore last time, was now all latex. It was startling - her slenderness became stark, the latex clothes not hiding it nearly as well. But while being smooth and shiny, the outfit was still in dull beige and browns. A latex sweater vest? Where did she get that?! Her hands were covered by thin white gloves - but they didn't look right for ordinary rubber gloves, they probably were more like the long opera gloves River wore but hidden by the sleeves of her long latex shirt.

"Good morning, Miss Johnson. Getting used to the lab coat I see? Very good. How can I help you today?"

"Ah, eh, good morning to you too. I, huh, have been reading more of Richard's reports. I found something that, well, I was hoping you could explain" I replied - shit had I been staring?

"Of course, go ahead."

" Thank you," I replied. I hoped that the question would distract them from my looking at their outfits, I didn't want them to think I was a pervert! "So, uh, yeah, I understand there was a volunteer program in the past?

"Yes," replied Dr Reed, tersely. Uh oh.

"And this program was canceled?" I continued.

"Yes."

"Thanks. So… Uh… Why?"

The doctor looked somber. "The volunteer program was, ultimately, a mistake. We allowed a few outsider volunteers from the Family Association. Only two of them stayed for more than a few weeks, most people found the work both tedious and disturbing. It… Those two got too deep into the latex, we didn't have the safety safeguards we do today. Word got out; it caused a small scandal. But perhaps some good came of it. In fact, why don't you talk to one of them?"

She pressed a button on her intercom and said "River, please take Miss Johnson to see Red, I believe they have much to discuss."

"Gladly," the feminine robotic voice answered. A few moments later she showed up. She seemed to be wearing the same outfit as yesterday - a long flowing latex skirt, high heel boots, a short corset, a tight top with long sleeves, latex gloves, a hood and gas mask - the lenses were tinted. The long flowing ponytail coming out from the top of her hood was the only visible "concession" to this ideal of being completely covered up. As before, a small keyboard was strapped on her abdomen, which she used to communicate.

In fact, her costume seemed identical to yesterday. I suddenly had the realization that for most patients, their costume was their “face”, their identity. No wonder why there was so much variety between patients, but little – if any - between the days.

I got up and followed River down the stairs. Our clothes rustled as we walked, and I had to admit the sensation was pleasant. As went south on the 2nd door, River typed away, explaining the situation. Unlike me, her robotic voice never got winded.

"Red used to be named Carol. She was an active member of the Family Association, and volunteered to help at the institute. She still does the same job - she makes sure that everything is done right. You overlook the broad strokes, she's the inspector of details. Mistakes happen, it's good she's here. :) In fact, we saw her briefly yesterday, but never spoke."

River paused a moment, then continued. "Red was quite adamant about going deep into latex and hypnosis to understand the patients. She is a sister of one of the patients. By doing frequent sensory deprivation, objectification etc. she somehow felt she was getting closer to her sister. Survivor guilt? I don't know, she started before I emerged. Anyway, she moved in, and eventually started doing this all the time… Too much according to some. And here we are."

We arrived at a small office with a desk, where someone - all in latex of course - was typing away. What really made her stand out was the bold red of her outfit - otherwise it was just as severe as several of the patients. A well fitted catsuit, large silicone boobs, a fairly tight corset, a posture collar. The latter two were in black leather with red trim. Her hood had no visible eyes, although I assumed there was micro perforation because she was busy typing away at the computer… Although maybe it was a braille computer? I had no idea. It seemed her nose had tubes like River, but unlike River her mouth was closed by a zipper. Her hands were ungloved however, which was unlike many patients I had seen - to type better?

As she got up to greet us, I got a better look at the rest of her outfit. She had a sort of weird fluffy skirt made of several sheets of dark chiffon, vaguely "goth ballerina"-like, from under which poked her legs, clad in tight red latex leggings (or stockings?). She unzipped her mouth, revealing big, beautiful lips, which broke in a grin as she extended her hand to shake mine.

"Hi!"

Her voice was warm and friendly, although perhaps a bit nasal-sounding - the tubes? Certainly felt a lot more human than River's flat diction. Her skin was dry, and her handshake firm. Even in slippers she was as tall as I was, and quite curvy.

"Oh hello. I am Judith, I'm the new inspector - Richard's replacement you could say. I'm pretty new to the job, so I'm meeting people and trying to get a better understanding of this, uh, place."

"Hi Judith, I'm Red! How can I help you today?" She paused and added "Didn't I see you yesterday?"

"Oh yes, you must be the lady in red I saw near the gel stations… although I don’t think you were wearing those slippers.”

Red laughed and said “You like them? We can’t be serious all the time – and to be honest, while many patients wear heels effortlessly, my feet need breaks.

I nodded and I continued. "So yeah, I'm told you are a volunteer? You aren't a patient? You seem to, uh, dress and act like a patient?"

Red's grin faltered for a moment, but after a small shrug she answered, grinning again. I couldn't help but watch her bulbous lips - snap out of it! - probably because it was the only part of her face that was visible to me.

"Yes. My bad. Carol really over-did it with the hypnosis, listening to the tracks during day-to-day activities, driving home, sleep… Too much. Carol wanted to understand and… Here I am."

I raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued. "So, well, Carol got completely addicted to the patient, ah, lifestyle! Although I don't do this all the time. Each year Carol takes a 3-week vacation - Usually a two-week cruise, and one week writing a report to the Family Association - highlighting our good results of the last year and admitting to setbacks. It's pretty important, I think. Anyway, at first the vacation was to help me stay human. Then it was to fool myself into thinking I was still human. Now it's to pretend to others that I'm not an object, that I am a human and not a rubber doll."

"You… Aren't human?" I asked.

"Yes - you are speaking to Red, aka a hypnosis-induced surface persona created by Carol. A program. I, Red, do things. She is trapped inside me, endlessly stimulated. She… Carol, feels things. Mostly sexual, not only."

"So, a bit like River?"

"Exactly… well not quite, but close. I didn't spend years in the gel, so Carol isn't "trapped" inside me, like many of the patients. This is fully consensual. I can switch between Carol and Red pretty easily, but Carol prefers being “trapped” inside me. And we aren't in pergasm… just very aroused," she replied in a husky voice.

"Isn't that… frustrating?" I asked, trying not to blush.

"Oh, absolutely not! I orgasm very frequently; very little things trigger them. I'm just really good at hiding it. Like when you came in, we saw you check me out, trying to be sneaky about it… that was nice."

At this point I was blushing furiously. This wasn't fair. I was trying to learn about this place, of course I had to look…

Red continued, her tone of voice changing "I'm sorry, this … well it wouldn't be appropriate for me to tell you this in a normal workplace. But this place… it can do things to you, change your perspective. I suppose," she added with a laugh "it really changed me."

I nodded, glad for the change in direction. Was it warm in here all of a sudden? "So… " I asked "this is what caused the scandal?"

She smirked. "Basically, yes. See, the goal of the institute is to humanize the patients, not dollify the help. So in a way I'm a ‘failure’. Oh, Carol is very, very happy, and I have no regrets. This is… Like the best sex of your life, every moment. It's so hot, it's heaven. But objectively, I have to admit this is a failure. Carol feels guilty about that, it caused Reed no small amount of grief… But not guilty enough to stop. I am doing good here, I'm helping! And besides, I get a vacation every year. This time Carol's going to Cozumel heehee."

"I… sort of see why the volunteer program was closed?" I said cautiously.

"Oh well… I'm just a cautionary tale. It's Spyder that really messed things up. If I have to, I can still operate as a human being. Spyder? I don't know… Probably not" she concluded. "If it was just me, we might have been able to pretend to be human well enough, keep it hush hush. But not Spyder. Her relatives realized and… It was a mess."

"What's wrong with, uh, Spyder?" I asked.

"Oh nothing's ‘wrong’ with Spyder," retorted Red, "but she would not be accepted by human society. I'm not sure she's able to function as a ‘normal’ person anymore. I don’t think her human personality has emerged in quite some time.”

I looked at Red and River - how bad was it, weren't River and Red as heavy as it got?

River stood up and started typing. "Would you like to see Spyder?"

"Yes, I think I should see this Spyder." I stood up too and extended my hand to Red again. "Thank you very much Red, this was very, uh, helpful.”

"Anytime Judith! It was a pleasure meeting you…" she replied - was that a double entendre? Damn it!

She continued "I have more free time in the early afternoon, in the morning and evenings I'm doing rounds. Just ask Renee, she knows my schedule."

And with that, Red closed the zipper, leaving her face a blank, red shape with few features. She sat down again, we made our goodbyes and departed.

I followed River to the stairs, and we headed to the basement. I think we were under the south wing. It was rather spooky in here - old stonework, massive pillars, some openings bricked off for no apparent reasons, dust, webs, wooden crates…

"Spyder spends her days in the basement and does rounds above at night. She's sort of a security guard I guess." River intoned. "As Red said, she was a volunteer - Sasha, or Sarah maybe. Like Red, she had a sister here. But I think that Sasha had some trauma - trauma she shared with her sister perhaps. As soon as she learned how, she went very deep, very fast. She built this persona, this costume. We're not even sure if there is anything left of Sasha. Anyway, she stays here and does her thing… Which is mostly skulking around. Where is she…"

River and I kept looking around, trying to find a glimpse of this Spyder. I paused for a moment to examine a strange piece of machinery - some sort of weird heating tank, but what was it for? - and I realized suddenly that I couldn't see River anymore.

"River?"

I heard a small clanking sound down the corridor, and I took a few more steps, looking intently. The goggles were not helping. As I reached up to take them off, I heard a noise and glanced behind me.

A rushing black shining shape. Too many limbs. Claws. Black ribbons. A cluster of eyes. I oomphed as it tackled me, breath knocked out. It was so fast - before I knew it my arms were pinned behind me and I could feel it grapple my legs as well - it was clad in bands of rubber wrapped around its body, and it was binding my legs together in more bands! I struggled but it was too late - my arms had already been bound and I felt brought down to the ground. I finally had the time to react as I felt a thick mixt of fear tinged with arousal.

"RIVER!" I opened my mouth to shriek again but was abruptly interrupted - my head had just been wrapped in layers of rubbery tape. I couldn't stop it at all. I couldn't see. I could barely hear. Oh god I can't breathe. I struggled but the creature was so strong and had bound me so quickly yet expertly I simply couldn't fight back, or even beg for mercy. I opened my mouth and tried as hard as I could to inhale, all I was achieving was causing some of the tape to dome into my mouth. I was starting to feel faint. I had mere moments, and I couldn't think of anything. I moaned in terror, the sound faint and muffled.

I felt it grab my face, I could feel its claws poking me and pushing in and… Air! Sweet merciful air! My body arched as I took a deep breath and was rewarded with the incredible rush of oxygen coursing through my brain. But the fear returned as I felt the creature get near me.

"Innnntruder," it hissed. I felt it smell me. "Whooo sent you!?" I now realized the creature had poked a hole not out of mercy, but for interrogation! Did it suspect my secret? How?! But before I could reply, I heard a robotic voice.

"Spyder! Stop! Let her go! She is a friend." River had finally returned, interrupting the interrogation.

The creature tensed-up, hissed and… Relaxed. It gently let me go, laying me on my back on the ground. I heard it slink away.

"I am so sorry Judith, I didn't see you for a moment, and I came as soon as I heard you shout. :("

"Get me out of this!" I gasped.

"I will not be able to remove these myself, my gloves are not suited for it." answered River. "Let me help you up and we will find aid upstairs."

It took some effort, but River was able to guide me up. But it was very slow going, I could only take tiny steps - hopping would have been faster, but with the heels and me not being able to see, I didn't dare to go any faster. I wasn't going to break an ankle over this!

"We are almost halfway there!" said River after what seemed like an eternity. But shortly after she abruptly stopped. "Spyder?" she asked.

"I… Help… Didn't know…" Her voice was gravelly, like a chain smoker, and hesitant. I felt River move aside, and I felt the hands of the creature - it was indeed Spyder - gently grab my face. Her fingers gently poked, seeking, finding an edge of the tape, picking at it with her claws and then lifting and unrolling it off my face. I finally saw her - average height and sinewy, her entire body wrapped in the same black tape she had used to immobilize me. As she moved around me, I got to see her outfit better. Her face was covered with some kind of strange apparatus with at least half a dozen lenses poking out - a night vision system? She was wearing some kind of home-made back-pack, from which arms with spools of tape were poking out.

"Sorry," she muttered, and the moment my bonds were undone, she was gone, out of sight before the tape had even finished hitting the ground. I feebly extended a hand towards the darkness.

River's fingers danced on her keyboard again. "I am sorry. I should have warned her first. She sees strangers so rarely, but I didn't know she would act like this."

I let out a shaky breath. "Take me back to Dr Reed please." I followed River back to the second floor, following several twists and turns. This place was a maze, and I was still in a bit of a state of shock. Thankfully, River guided me well and we arrived at Dr Reed's office.

The walk had settled my nerves somewhat, but I felt angry. What kind of messed up place was this?!

 River had barely time to explain before I burst out, unable to wait: "You call this treatment?! A woman wandering in the dark with extra arms, attacking people at random?!" I nearly shouted.

"I see you've met Spyder, Miss Johnson. I advised you to meet Red - Spyder is not ready to talk with strangers. I hope you haven't set her back too much," replied Reed.

"Set her back? Now this is my fault?!" I balked “You're kidding!"

"You are a healthy, young woman, are you not?" retorted Reed. "She is certainly not. The early days of the institute were so … busy, and messy, and difficult. We were happy to get any help we could. By the time we realized, it was too late. The person who was Spyder was obsessed with conspiracies, her sister had been kidnapped and brutally treated, she trusted no one – so of course she transformed herself into a shadowy monster. She's hiding. She's afraid. We've made progress - she now sees us as sisters. Anyone else is a threat. Your latex lab coat, your cap… her attack might have been worse if you had been in your normal clothing… "

Dr Reed stopped, touched her forehead with a gloved hand, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry Miss Johnson. I sometimes focus too much on my patients. Are you ok? Were you injured?"

"I… a few bruises maybe, nothing more. It was terrible - I thought for a moment she was going to suffocate me to death."

"I am so sorry," Dr Reed replied - and she sounded like she meant it. "Do you wish to press charges?" she added sombrely.

"I… no… what would we do, put her in jail? That would be a disaster. I still am not sure how she became like this - no one else exposed to the hypnosis was… right? Are there others like her?!"

"No, Spyder is unique. Exceptional even. Carol wanted to understand and fell under the spell of the conditioning. Carol, or Red if you prefer, is a bit different, but in many ways she is similar to the other patients. But Spyder… the way she is, it's because she wanted it. There is no hypnosis tape, no program or conditioning in this building that would have caused her spider-like behavior. The arms, the tape, the lenses, the lurking about… it's all her idea. The hypnosis tapes were just a tool of transformation for her. Her will must be very strong… I hope we can coax her back one day."

"This may be but… " I paused, at a loss for words. This couldn't be right. "This… this is crazy. The public deserves to know what is going on here," I replied.

"But all this is old news,” said Dr Reed. "You read the report yourself."

"Buried in an obscure, incomprehensible report isn't public!" I snapped back.

"But it did make the news," Dr Reed said back. "I mentioned the scandal - didn't you know about it?"

"No…"

Dr Reed let out a deep breath. "I think this day has been difficult enough. I need to think about this, and how we failed, and how to move forward. I need to check on Spyder. And I'm sure you wouldn't mind some time away from here - and it is Friday afternoon." she paused, and after seeing me nod, spoke up.

"Renee, could you come to the office? Please escort Miss Johnson out, I believe we are done for today."

Renee guided me to the locker room, and I began changing. She stayed in the doorway, out of sight, but called out.

"I overheard what happened. Are you ok?'

"I… still am not quite sure what to think about it. It was terrifying… but over very quickly. And she did apologize, I'm not sure if it should matter but … it does?"

"It shouldn't have happened. We've been without visitors for so long, focused on the patients so long, that we've failed you. And while I think Dr Reed's idea of having River guide you around was inspired, perhaps River wasn't cautious enough. Will we see you Monday?"

"I'll be ok," I replied. I hoped so… "I'll be back soon." Dressed again in my office clothes, I got in my car and headed home. I felt I had earned my weekend.

Chapter 6: The Dance

I got home Friday early evening, and I wasn't happy with how the week had been going. The institute was far stranger than I ever could have imagined. By the end of the week, I felt that I was maybe getting a handle on things. On the other hand… I had nothing of use for Uncle Doug, nothing at all. I had to give him something - if I lost my job now, I would be worse off than when I started!

So, as I ate alone at home on an early Saturday evening, I had this crazy idea - what if I did a surprise inspection? Now-ish? I should ask Margaret… But what would that do, she would find ten reasons why not to go. I was going to go! "I have to protect the taxpayer's dollar," I said out loud in Doug's voice, giggling a bit at the notion.

I gathered my things quickly, but found my swimsuit was kind of smelly - I did laundry on Sundays. I didn't feel like going in my underwear again, so I found an old bikini - it was far more daring than I remembered, but then again, with its faded yellow it probably wouldn't show much under the lab coat. Good enough I hoped? I gathered a few more things, locked the door, got in my car - quarter tank of gas, good enough - and headed to the Institute.

A 15-minute drive later I was there. I had decided to enter in the front - the idea of entering by the back in the dark had triggered a sudden moment of fear. What if my uncle Doug was right? What kind of fucked up things could I find? The experience with Spyder had me wondering… Was this safe? I had to tell someone where I was going right? But who? Not mom, dear lord. And Margaret was out… So, I parked in front and sent a short text to Uncle Doug. "Doing surprise inspection at Institute, wish me luck." There - that would help… I hoped. At least there was some reception here, and a lone streetlight… I gathered my courage, crossed the road and buzzed the gate.

It took a while, but eventually Renee let me in. "Oh, you're here for the dance! Come in, let's get you ready, it's starting in 15 minutes."

"A dance?" I replied. Really? I decided to play along. "Of course, can you tell me about it." She was wearing a black latex cocktail dress, along with smoky transparent opera gloves and stockings, and black Louboutin heels too.

Renee explained: "We find it's good for the patients to have an evening of fun, and dancing to music is really universal. It's perfectly harmless, good exercise, they get to let out a bit of steam. It’s great for morale. But don't take my word for it, come and see!"

At this moment, my phone dinged. I cursed silently, having forgotten to turn it to silent. It was my uncle. "Go get them tiger!" I smiled faintly.

Renee frowned. " Normal rules apply: phones, cameras, or any form of recording device, are not allowed during the dance. It's perfectly ok for you to observe and report, but no recordings. Besides, the world is not ready for Dr Reed’s bad dance moves."

"That's ok," I answered chuckling, as I put the phone aside in the locker, along with the rest of my clothes. Renee helped me in the long white latex coat. I saw myself in the mirror - with the swim goggles and swim cap, the face mask, the bikini effectively invisible, I could see the outline of my body, my curves… I wasn't naked under the latex, but it certainly looked like I was. It was an oddly erotic sight. I had never looked at myself like this before. I blushed. Renee must have noticed - the face mask covered my face, but not my body language. "Don't worry, she said "everyone there is in latex, no one will judge, and no one else will know."

"Why aren't you wearing a mask?" I retorted.

"I don't wear them," simply said Renee.

"But why was there talk of giving me a hood and gas mask then?! Why not you?"

"They know me. They don't know you… yet" she answered sternly. She then smiled a bit. "I have to say, your swim cap and goggles solution was clever. You met them halfway and did it your way. They noticed. You did well. And coming to the dance… I must say I'm impressed."

I smiled back, satisfied. I was gaining their trust, that was something, right? We started walking down a long corridor in the east wing, towards what was the old gym. Her heels added to her considerable height, and she towered over me - my 3-inch heels weren't enough to catch up, not by a long shot… but at least they would be comfortable to dance in? What was I saying - I was here to observe!

The gym was an old basketball court. The floor of polished wooden slats was covered in fading lines, and the nets were still present. Tables and chairs were being set around by the drones, and other patients were loading them with juice and punch (no booze assured Renee), a few snacks like chips, veggies and dip, and popcorn.

I looked around. As expected, everyone was in rubber. Dr Reed saw me, waved and came over. Unlike Renee, but like almost everyone in the room she was wearing a rubber hood, although the face was made of a very thin, transparent latex so her features were easily seen. Her reddish curly hair came out in a short ponytail. She was wearing a sort of double-breasted coat made of white latex. She saw me and opened her arms - this was the most demonstrative I think I've ever seen the Dr! She hugged me and said:

"Miss Johnson! I am so happy to see you here. This is a silly, but important part of our work at the Institute. Music and dance are profoundly human means of expression, and of feeling flow. The patients enjoy it greatly and it does them good, physically and mentally - it helps draw them out." She paused briefly, as a strange expression passed over her face "you may find it also helps us understand them better."

I saw some of the immobiles being wheeled in and parked in corners. Dr Reed commented "For those in between the cube state and the dronehood state, they are slightly aware of their environment, so we bring them here during the dances, it helps them externalize their attention focus." I saw that Amber was already in the room along a wall. If she was aware of her surroundings, there were no signs.

“I remember seeing mention of focus of attention in Richard’s reports,” I replied, which seemed to please Dr Reed. She was about to respond but was pulled away by a patient who wanted to show or tell her something. “One moment please.”

A few other drones were installing equipment: a pretty basic light setup, disco ball included, illuminated the room with flashes of multi-colored light. This, combined with the snacks, created a low budget, low intensity party vibe. A lot weirder than a high school dance, but in some ways quite similar. Was this why I was blushing so much? Old awkward memories?

Red walked towards me, unzipping her mouth. "Hey Judith!" she called "I didn't expect to see you here, yesterday was rough I heard!"

The music had just started - some electronic stuff… Underworld?

"Oh, it was a big misunderstanding - not fun, but forgiveness is good for the soul. Knowing it wasn't malicious really makes a difference I think," I said back loudly due to the music. The pulsing light and sounds had altered the mood a bit. "Good on ya!" responded Red, patting me on the shoulder with her left hand. “I was worried about you to be honest, that must have been quite the fright."

It was then I noticed she was drinking something out of a glass with a straw. "Is that… Huh… Milk?" I asked.

"Oh no, it's the nutritional supplement," she replied, pointing to a table I had missed. Several bowls of

the nutritional fluid had been prepared. I understood that some of the patients, even among the "mobiles" couldn't ingest solid food. I knew River couldn't, and I guess it made sense to have some of it here. But Red could eat normal food, I had seen her at the cafeteria.

I gave her an inquisitive glance and she elaborated: "It helps get in the groove," she simply said, glancing at some of the other patients, who after having installed the equipment, tables and decorations, were also pouring themselves glasses of the beige fluid.

"How… What does it taste like?" I blurted out.

"Oh, it's hard to describe… Bland probably would be the best way, I guess. But it's not bad! Why don't you try some?" she added, with an overly exaggerated coy smile.

I laughed. "Why not, a small glass can't hurt right?" I poured myself a glass, maybe half of what Red was drinking, and took a sip. It felt a bit like a thin milkshake. The flavor was vaguely like cream of wheat with no flavoring whatsoever – bland indeed! Probably made with some kind of grain I speculated.

I spotted River, who was drinking a big glass of supplement, using a tube that came out of her gas mask, and I had a realization. This bland fluid was all she ever tasted. Flavors simply didn't exist for River. And with those gas masks and/or nose tubes, it seemed likely that most patients’ sense of smell was really inhibited. I looked at her, the other patients, and suddenly understood at a deeper level the… Separation many of them had with the world. They were in a bubble, and to understand them you had to understand that isolation.

"Wow…" I said, blown away by the notion, and gulped a big sip of the fluid.

"I know!" Red replied, “Look at you! Joining in like this, I'm sure things will work out just fine… To the future!" She and I clinked the glasses, and I took another long sip. Huh, the glass was almost empty already! I then looked at Red again and was struck by her curves - the light bouncing around making her look latex form red, bluish or black. I glanced away - why was I looking at her like that?

The various patients who had helped assemble the tables, snacks, lighting, etc. were now setting up a sort of booth, and some of the other patients started getting in line. The two booth attendees were rubbing one patient at a time with a cloth. Were they cleaning the outside of the suits? Giving a small standing massage? Red said “I’ll be back” and got in line.

Renee noticed my staring and dropped by to explain.

"They are applying shining product to the latex. It makes it extra shiny. We normally don't bother because it can be messy, but for the dance we make an exception, it really looks cool. Come, let's get in line and try it!"

I followed, feebly protesting. OMG, OMG what was going to happen? There were about half a dozen patients in front of us, so I got to see the procedure. Two patients in maid outfits were rubbing cloths all over the body of another patient. The latex became ultra shiny, reflecting the colored lights and making their curve look incredible.

"So those cloths have the shining stuff in them?" I asked, "And that thing they are walking on as they leave, what's that about?"

"Yes, it's a silicone-based oil," answered Renee, "and they are walking on washing pads so they don't spread any of it via the bottom of their shoes, just in case some of the oil fell on the floor and they stepped on it. This stuff can be slippery, we had a few bad falls. Oh, it's my turn."

Renee stepped on the booth, spread her arms and legs, and closed her eyes. The two rubber maids started shining her up with the cloth, turning her black dress and smoky gloves and stockings very shiny. She kept her eyes closed, but her mouth opened, she clearly seemed to be enjoying the process. God she was so beautiful! One of the maids tapped her on the shoulder to let her know it was done. She opened her eyes and smiled at me, and I almost melted on the spot. I slowly stepped forward into the booth, my heart beating wildly. Why was I making such a big deal out of this?

The maids started gliding their cloth over my rubber lab coat. Oh dear. Oh. It was so… Sensual, so alluring. I wondered how it would have been with skintight latex? Even smoother… sexier? The maid's hands were everywhere - my arms, the small of my back, my thighs… I let out a low moan and moments (seconds? Hours?) later it was all done. I stepped off the booth into the cleaning pads in a daze, Renee had to guide me away.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Renee smiled at me.

"Wha?" was all I could muster. Her presence was overwhelming.

Thankfully, at this point River saw us and came over to talk, giving me a moment to collect myself. She started typing on her keyboard, but the music was too loud for me to hear the text to speech device… she started gesticulating at Renee, who leaned over and said: “She’s saying hello and saying she’s happy you are here at the dance, and asking if you are having a good time.”

I looked at River and smiled, and then added a two-thumbs up gesture – she couldn’t see me smile after all… She nodded back then pointed at the booth and got in line for her shining.

Renee added, “a benefit of sign language is how easier it is at parties. No need to yell!”

I nodded, “Maybe I should try to learn?” Not a bad idea if I wanted to talk to all the patients…

Renee replied: “It would be a good idea; we actually have classes, you could take some if you wish. It’s a heavily modified version of American Sign Language.”

A number of patients had started dancing, and Red came over and took my hand and pulled me towards the dance floor. I protested feebly but, again, I went along. Renee followed and we were soon joined by River, all shined up. It was a bit awkward at first. I had enjoyed dancing while in college, but I realized it had been a few years now since I had done so – what a sad sight I was, in my 20s and too broke and stressed to dance. But after a few moments, I started getting into the groove, swaying with the rhythm. Although the décor and scene were pretty basic, seeing the light reflected off the various patients as they danced created a pretty mesmerizing tableau.

After a few songs I had to stop – I had broken out in quite the sweat and I needed water. Red and I headed to the tables.

“Having fun?” asked Red.

“Oh yes, I haven’t danced like this in years!” I replied.

Red poured herself more of the nutritional fluid. I was going to just get juice but… looking around, I could see that the great majority of the patients were all going for the nutritional fluid. I hesitated, then shrugged and poured myself another glass of the beige liquid. I saw River waving at us, to get us to return to the dance floor. I didn’t want to bring the glass with me, so I just gulped it down and returned.

The dancing continued. The patients loosened up, their movement becoming more sensual, like black flames swaying with the rhythm. River would periodically spin around, making her loose skirt rise up as she twirled, exposing her latex-clad legs underneath. River and Red knew more “modern” moves and were both skilled dancers. At one point I was even swinging my hips with Dr Reed, which was just as caught up in the moment as the others.

I noted that the drones were hanging back, occasionally moving a chair out of the way or some other minor task… but some of them were head bobbing with the beat. The dance was helping them come out.

Time passed, unseen. The energy in the room seemed to rise, to heat up. I had more fluid. Some patients were dancing with each other quite closely – I should have been shocked by the frankly erotic sight, but I was too caught up in the moment. They were so beautiful, so fluid. The lights reflected off their latex-clad bodies in mesmerizing patterns. With each beat of the music, with each motion, I could feel my latex lab coat clinging and sliding against my skin. I kept drinking more fluid to stay hydrated.

The entire room seemed to pulse. I stepped away from the dance floor, my heart beating wildly. What was happening to me? Overheating? I drank enough fluids… I was…. Oh my god, I was so turned on. My entire body was on fire, I had never been so aroused in my life. I leaned against a table, looking around with incomprehension – the raw sexual power of the scene, which I had been denying, trying to pretend wasn’t there, was hitting me like a truck. The dancing of the patients was becoming frenetic, and some were raising their arms and heads towards the sky, in some kind of erotic adoration.

River came over to check on me – I looked at her wordlessly, unable to express what was happening to me. I saw a flash of understanding in her eyes, and she came closer – oh god she was so close – and she said in my ear.

“Listen, if you don’t want to be here you can leave. I know it’s a lot the first time. Consent remember? Or you could fight it, or just … go with the flow.”

 I looked at her and nodded. “I’m ok… oh god I’m going to come." I couldn’t understand what was happening, my knees were on the verge of buckling.

River helped me to a mat where a few other patients were lying down already. As she helped me lay down, her arm wrapped around my waist – and looking back this was an innocent gesture, but it was enough – I let out a deep guttural groan and started shaking.

My god. Oh my god. Had I not been lying down already I would have collapsed, the orgasm hit me so hard. Why was this happening? River came by too, kneeling down, and held my hand reassuringly. “It’s ok,” added Renee, “remember, if you don’t want this, we can help you leave the room”.

“No, I have to see, I have to… oooooh” I let out another moan as I came again – again?! I lay against the mat on the floor, and just decided to let it happen. My feelings were so mixed – confusion as to why I was reacting so strongly, a bit of embarrassment, but a part of me was exulting – I hadn’t had a boyfriend in the last two years, and that last boyfriend was a poor lover. I deserved this? Yes! But I… couldn’t make sense of things. So what? I would figure it all out later, my emotions were too raw right now… I was just going to stay here and enjoy, nothing wrong with that. Besides, weren’t some of the other patients in a state of permanent orgasm? I moaned again as a third orgasm hit me, stronger even yet.

The rest of the evening became a blur. The music washed over me, and I lay flat on my back, looking at the ceiling. River stayed by my side, still holding my hand. From time to time I would look around, see the other patients dancing, embracing, gyrating… a good dozen of them had settled down on the floor, seemingly in their own private world. I must have come another dozen times, or was it hundreds? I couldn’t tell. After a while River also settled flat on her back, also giving in to the moment, but still holding my hand. I think she was orgasming too. But was I holding River’s hand, or was I holding Patient 87? I thought, what if I were a patient. I imagined myself in that situation and came again, my back arching, my eyes seeing stars. Did that make me a bad person? Were my fantasies fuelling my orgasms, or the other way around?

Renee periodically checked on us, as did Red. At one point, I thought I saw Spider looking on from the rafters, but when I looked closer, she was gone.

After an hour or two, an eternity, Renee came by – I could see Dr Reed in the background, looking on.

“How are you doing?” she asked as she kneeled beside me. “Uh…. oh…” was all I could manage to reply. I was exhausted, my mind turning numb from the overstimulation. “All right, I think it might be time to go home. The dance is going to end soon anyway." I mumbled an OK in response.

She led me out of the gym, I was having a hard time standing. We crossed the lobby and somehow made our way to the car – I think she might have carried me half the way.

“Why are you so strong?” I muttered.

“Hush” was the only answer. I closed my eyes.

I woke up in my bed. The sun was up. I was dreaming I was wrapped in layers and layers of latex, a rubber cocoon… oh god, the dance! Had… Renee tucked me in? I groggily reached for my phone to see the time and saw a text from Renee.

“Hope you’re doing ok! I drove you home and then took an Uber; I didn’t think you were up to driving. Your keys are in your purse. Take it easy today. I hope you had fun!”

Fun?! That was one way of putting it… I got up to pour myself a bowl of cereal. I couldn’t help but note that apart from being tastier and crunchier, it was probably not that different from the fluid I had last night. Renee had put my things on the table, and I saw my latex lab coat draped over a chair – oh god, I hope no neighbors had seen us…

As I ate, I reflected on last night. I couldn’t help but think that holding hands with River had been incredibly intimate in a way… although we had barely communicated, maybe I was imagining it. It was just hand holding… right? Still, we were, for a moment, in a similar situation. It almost felt like her orgasms and mine were blending in through our hands, that we had a double body. I felt a burst of… confusing insight – was she always aroused as I was? How did she stand it? Would I ever understand?

I jumped as the phone rang. Could it be Renee?

“Hello?!”

"Hey Muffin, it's your favorite uncle Doug!"

I laughed, startled. Why would he call me Sunday morning?! Oh right, I had texted him before going on my "surprise inspection".

"Oh, hey Uncle - yes, you don't need to ask, I'm fine.”

"Glad to hear it! Did you find anything?"

"Well," I hesitated… And then I decided to tell the truth - sort of.

"Do you know what they do on a Saturday evening? A dance."

"A dance?"

"In the gym. With folding tables. A mini disco ball. Old tunes. Popcorn. Punch - no booze, I checked.”

"Sounds… Low budget," said Doug, sounding not impressed.

"Oh, I'm sure the Institute wasted a dozen dollars on this, maybe even 20."

"So, they had… A dance, like in school?"

"Oh uncle, you should have seen it. I'm sure it's a good way to keep them active but… almost no one was speaking. Some were in the corners and never ever left once! Started early, ended early. It was…” I stopped, not trusting myself to finish … But I knew if I left it hanging for more than a second my uncle would jump right in:

"Sounds dull as dishwater. Sorry you had to go through that ha! No scandal here though…”

I took a plaintive tone, "I'm really sorry Uncle, I'm really trying! I really need this job."

"It's all right kiddo, unless something was Horribly Wrong, I knew you wouldn't find something right away. It was a nice try. Just try to get me something before the next election hahaha."

"Of course uncle, I'm sure there is money mis-spent there!"

"There always is muffin, there always is. Keep looking and keep me posted!"

"I will uncle, thanks for checking up on me." And hung up.

I let out a deep breath, lying back on the bed. Ooof… Did he buy it? I think he did! I smiled a little… But what now? There was no doubt that the government would flip out if they heard what had really happened at the dance. Some of my uncle’s colleagues were very prudish. It was perverted! Doug was right, there was a big scandal here… But then again, how could it not be "perverted"? These people were digging themselves out of a terrible situation, of course they couldn't act "normal" right away… And what was “normal” anyway?! I had no right to destroy the life they had managed to build for themselves. And technically speaking, Doug had approved of the frugality of the event, hadn't he?

But what did it mean that I liked it so much? I couldn't deny that this was the most intense night of my life. I had no idea it could be so good. I never had orgasmed like that… Was this what most people felt like? Was this because of the latex? What was happening to me?

Part of me felt ashamed - and ashamed that another, perhaps bigger, part of me wasn't ashamed. And… Why should I?! Had I done anything wrong? I hadn't harmed anyone, broken any laws that I knew of. I guess… It didn't make me objective for the inspection. But would anyone be? Would my uncle?! As inspector, I was there to protect the patients. To be sure they were treated right. That was the priority, the right thing to do. And that might mean protecting them from politicians…

I felt torn - I had to protect the patients, and I also had to make my uncle happy somehow. I still had to find something, some way… But I had time now. Time to figure things out. Time to explore …

The Institute.

 

The end, for now…