The Institute

Chapter 7: Rubber and Paper Work

I returned to the office Monday morning. I greeted Margaret and sat heavily at my desk.

“Busy weekend? Shopping for the new place?” inquired Margaret.

I hesitated. I … couldn’t talk about what had happened at the dance, it was just too embarrassing. “Oh no, I have to wait for my first paycheck for that” I said with a weak chuckle. “I just, uh, didn’t sleep well.”

Margaret nodded sagely. “I know it’s a lot, dear, but don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it in time. You don’t have to go there every day you know – there is paperwork to do, those projects I had mentioned last week… perhaps a bit more mundane, but breaks are good!”

I thought about it. There was wisdom in what she was saying… but what would they think if I didn’t show up after the dance? I couldn’t let them know how much it had affected me could I?

“You’re probably right, but … I haven’t been there on a Monday yet, so I might as well go take a peek. If the paperwork waited 6 months in Richard’s absence, it can wait another day.”

Margaret shrugged, and I asked her to email Renee for me.

 

A good half hour later, I was at the rear gate of the Institute. I was wearing my blue swimsuit under my clothes again. I wanted to tone it down a little… but I had the idea of still showing my, uh, determination… huh… anyway, I had brought an old pair of yellow rubber gloves I sometimes used when cleaning. The majority of patients and staff wore gloves after all.

When I arrived, Renee was wearing a blue blouse and a knee length black pencil skirt – all latex of course. I still couldn’t quite get how… imposingly gorgeous she was, with a good 6 inches on me and a figure that belonged on a catwalk and a glorious disposition.

“Welcome back Miss Johnson” she said, in a formal tone. Odd…

I changed in the small locker room and Renee escorted me upstairs, but we headed not for Dr Reed’s office as I expected, but a nearby meeting room. Dr Reed was there, as were River and Red. Dr Reed was wearing her double-breasted lab coat and her transparent-faced hood, but her expression took me aback. Even Red’s usually sassy disposition seemed suppressed. The mood was somber.

“Good morning, everyone… uh what is going on?” I said, worried.

Dr Reed got up and said “Good morning, Miss Johnson. Thank you for joining us. On behalf of the entire staff at the Institute, I wish to apologize to you for the events of last Saturday.”

Apologize? Why was she apologizing?

“I don’t understand what you are talking about,” I replied, concerned.

“I am referring to the dance and the effect it had on you,” said Dr Reed stiffly.

“Oh! Uh… It’s ok, I consented,” I retorted. What was this about!?

“Yes, but did you know what you were consenting to?” replied Dr Reed. Following my lack of answer, she pressed on.

“When I saw you at the dance, I assumed that Renee had explained what the dance was to you, what could happen. Renee believed River told you, and River thought I had explained it. Red just assumed that one of us had. But you didn’t know, did you?”

“Well, uh, I didn’t quite know what to expect” I said.

“Exactly – and consent must be informed. How can you consent to something if you don’t know what you are consenting to?” said Dr Reed.

I took a step back – I hadn’t expected this, at all. But she was right, I had *no idea* what I was getting into that night. Not that it had been bad...

“Well, uh… that’s right I suppose, and I’m touched that you are concerned, but it wasn’t a bad night. I uh…” blushing furiously I ended meekly with “uh, learned a lot”.

“There is… more”, said Red, hesitantly.

“More?”

“Yes. The nutrition fluid… it’s not just nutrition. It has a little bit of THC and CBD in it, as well as a mixture of various sex hormones. I thought you knew! We all did.”

“Ah, so that is why I became so aroused!” I blurted out before I could think better of it. Still, it was a relief. While it had been an amazing sexual experience, I still felt quite puzzled and confused by it. This explained everything! Even though the situation was… well, not ideal, it certainly clarified things.

I then saw them exchange glances. “…What is it?” I asked.

Dr Reed answered, “The fluid enhances arousal and the sexual response. But it doesn’t *generate* arousal.”

Huh? This made no sense.

Renee must have seen my confusion and added. “If Saturday had been a filing cabinet exposition instead of a dance, you would not have had the reaction you had… unless you are really into filing cabinets, I suppose!” She broke out in a smile at the thought, then continued. “Even though the fluid made you react quite strongly to what you experienced at the dance, you still needed to find what you saw and did arousing. It enhances arousal, but you needed something to be aroused *about*.”

“I…” … oh no. This didn’t help at all. It meant that all the fluid did was force me to acknowledge the truth – that the outfits, the latex, all of it… it was SO HOT. I didn’t want it to be erotic… but it was. I couldn’t deny it any longer.

But I wasn’t ready to talk about this specific aspect with them. I had to find a way out of this conversation.

“Listen, uh… ok, it happened. I didn’t know. But you didn’t know I didn’t know. You couldn’t prepare me; you didn’t know I was coming! Shit happens I guess. And besides, it was a very, uh, interesting experience, it helped me understand the patients more.”

This seemed to please them, and the tension in the room noticeably lessened.

Dr Reed sighed and rubbed her temples. “I’m glad you see it this way. But twice in a week we have failed you, this is not acceptable.”

“Well….” I replied “As an inspector, this tells me you are pretty bad… pretty bad at dealing with outsiders that is. But that’s not your job. Your job, the mission of the Institute, is to look after the patients. And my job is to check that out, and I intend to do my job.” I was pretty happy with that little speech.

Dr Reed finally smiled. “You are of course correct, and I for one am pleased to hear you intend to continue.” The others nodded. “But we will still strive to do better, to have you better informed and avoid any future incidents.”

“Do you have a latex ogre in the attic? A moat with rubber sharks? With rubber lasers on their rubber heads?”

Red burst out laughing at that one, and I knew I had won them over.

“Spyder is quite unique, let me assure you,” answered Dr Reed. And perhaps, in a little while, a more peaceful introduction could be arranged. But for today… hmm. River, what do you think about showing her the workshop?”

“Of course, Dr Reed,” replied River.

“We’ll have a quick meeting this afternoon too if you don’t mind?” Added Dr Reed, looking at me. I nodded and we left the room.

What a strange way to start a Monday at work! I could see why they were worried about my reaction. And I… I still wasn’t quite sure what to think, but their apologies mattered – they genuinely seemed concerned. My train of thought was interrupted by River.

“I am deeply sorry Judith, we messed up. But I am very happy you are deciding to keep coming to the Institute! I don’t have any friends from the outside world,” she intoned on her keyboard.

I was touched by her declaration, but she didn’t give me time to react and pressed on: “I am sure you will enjoy the workshop. As you may know, latex isn’t very durable, and the constant wear means outfit repairs and replacements are frequently needed. It would be too expensive to get this done on the outside.”

I looked at River, and realized that most of her outfit – the long gloves, the flowing latex skirt, the hood, the latex corset probably – were all made in house.

“This way, every patient has several copies of their outfits at their disposal. Every outfit is custom made for a perfect fit. And we get to do changes to the function and design – the drones’ outfits are almost identical, but we ‘emergent’ have our unique looks,” concluded River.

“So, uh, are these looks based on taste, do they mean something?” I asked.

“Great question. Each detail has a meaning, although the meaning sometimes is a bit vague. For example, D-rings are more practical, but O-rings look better. The choice of which – if any – tells something about the wearer,” replied River.

“Wow… I didn’t realize it was so involved,” I replied. “So you chose your outfit? It’s not something you were conditioned into wearing?”

“That’s complicated,” replied River. “We were definitely conditioned to love rubber, full enclosure. But the details seem to vary between patients, and the reasons for these variations seem to be based as much on the patients as anything else. Sometimes there are fads too. Last year frills were quite the hit, but there are less of them now.”

I smiled at the notion – there were fashion trends in heavy rubber!

“Perhaps you will start a trend,” added River with an impish shrug.

I burst out laughing “this old thing? I don’t think so!” There was no way that my frumpy outfit would inspire the patients!

We reached the basement of the west wing. I was a little nervous being on this floor, but this section seemed quite inhabitable, as opposed to the decrepit look of the south wing basement. Here the corridor was well lit with a green and white checkered tile floor. I could see hundreds of rolls of latex stacked against the wall, tables, tools, supplies. I could hear the hum of a fairly aggressive ventilation system.

A few patients were working, assembling various pieces of latex garments. One of them got up as we entered to greet us. “Ah, the famous Inspector. Welcome to my shop!” She extended a hand in greeting – her hands were bare, as were the hands of all the other patients here. Perhaps it was necessary to work with latex?

I shook her hand; she had a firm grip. “Call me Maker.”

“Maker is Patient 33. She has been with us for a long time. She used to be an old drone, but Dr Reed was able to make her come out of it – the first one in fact,” added River.

Maker cackled, “all she had to do was show me new latex fashion. THAT got my attention.”

She looked… different from the others. A thing I had noticed about the patients was while there seemed to be a fair amount of variability in body types etc., they all were attractive in their ways. Maker looked… older. Stout, not curvy. She was dressed in a black latex dress with puffy sleeves – it certainly was very elegant, but it wasn’t able to hide the heaviness of her gait, the hump on her back. She wore a simple black hood with large goggles on top, probably to help her focus on small things I imagined. I felt bad for a moment – I shouldn’t judge her based on her appearance, but it was odd that she didn’t match the others, wasn’t it?

I also realized, this was a good opportunity to talk to another patient, and I should take advantage of it.

“Hello Maker, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Judith Johnson, I am replacing Richard as the Inspector from the Federal Ministry of Health.”

“I gather Richard isn’t going well, is he?” answered Maker.

“I don’t know the details, but I’m told it’s not looking good,” I replied. Maybe I should meet this Richard? After an awkward pause, I continued.

“So, uh, I’m new to the job, so why don’t we start with the basics. Tell me about yourself and what goes on here.”

“Very well. I don’t know who I used to be before my capture. For some reason, my memories were completely erased. But I seemed to have some skills with latex making. I suspect I was captured and turned into a latex making drone because of those skills. But I think I liked latex before – why else would I know how to make it? And well, it really does make me happy to make my sisters look their best all in rubber.

I smiled and urged her to go on.

“So over here we have these very large folders, one per patient. For example, this is Renes’s file,” said Maker, as she opened a large folder labeled 128. In it there were drawings in bright color of Renee wearing various items, as well as large pieces of paper in various curvy forms. “I really enjoy working with her, she’s very creative and it’s a change from the usual work,” she added.

I nodded, then frowned. “Patient 128? I thought there were only 127 patients. Was Renee a patient?” I asked.

River intervened: “I think it was simpler at first to just use the filing system that existed and give patient numbers to non-patients. Renee never was a patient; it was just convenient to assign her number 128.”

Maker nodded. “Makes sense. Renee started working here before I emerged from drone-hood, so I can’t confirm exactly how it went down. I’m told the early days were chaotic.” She added.

She continued. “So, each patient has a file with measurements, drawings of outfits and patterns. If River here needs a new skirt, I can make her a new one quite quickly. If she wants something different then she can drop by for a consultation. I love creating new items, or inventing a new detail, a flourish.”

She continued. “Latex is not very durable, and with daily wear outfits break down. It’s common for each replacement to be a little different, as the patient’s tastes and personality evolves. Bigger changes are rare, but these changes come with big outfit changes.

“Like a drone emerging?” I asked, and Maker nodded.

I was writing notes in my notebook during the conversation, but I was struggling a bit due to the stupid yellow dish gloves I was wearing. They were too big and got in the way of my writing legibly. Maker must have noticed as she exclaimed:

“Dear, these gloves simply don’t fit you! Let me find you something better.” She turned to another patient who was working – in theory – on something; but had been spending the entire time looking at us and listening. “Patchy! Come over here, I need your eye”!

The patient named “Patchy” was well named. She was wearing a simple catsuit – simple but for the fact that each panel was made of a different color. Said catsuit had been repaired plenty of times, each time with a different colored patch. Her features were hidden by a gas mask (Israeli civilian), but her large brown eyes were clearly visible – there was a twinkle of amusement in there.

Maker asked me to remove my gloves, then looked at my hand. “What do you think? 92 or maybe 54?” she asked Patchy, who replied with a few gestures. “I agree, 92, their hands are almost identical. Go get me some spare gloves for patient 92, short black.” Patchy nodded, and soon returned with the requested items. “Try these on for size. Your hands are almost identical to patient 92, so the fit should be good.” She sensed I was about to protest and interrupted, “It’s ok – gloves break all the time, so we have many spare ones.”

The gloves slipped on easily, and fitted, like, well gloves did in proverbs. I looked at my hands in wonder. Who knew *hands* could be sexy? MY hands? I blushed and scribbled something on my notebook. “Works great, thanks!” Eager to change the subject, I added “so uh, what about the rest of the workshop?”

Maker took us on a short tour, showing us the crafting tables, the rotary cutters, the rolls of latex, the storage of various tools, solvents and glues. She explained how latex was cut, and then glued together with overlapping seams, how it could be repaired with patches. It seemed like delicate work.

“Over here we have the chlorination bins” said Maker, “as well as the ventilation system so we can do the work safely. Still it’s a good excuse to wear gas-masks ha!” Seeming my blank look, she elaborated: “The chlorination makes the latex very smooth, which allows us to put it on without using lubricants. But the process does release chlorine fumes, which is why I made the gas mask joke.”

“I see…” I said, as I energetically noted this – seemed like a potential work safety issue? I then added “So that’s why the gloves had no powder?”

Maker nodded “Correct. Powder doesn’t work that well; it gets everywhere and it’s not very safe either. Lube is better, but it can get messy and expensive. Chlorination is the best option, at least in these circumstances. It can make repairs more difficult, but we’ve found solutions.”

She then reached the back of the room, which seemed to consist of a small pedestal surrounded by large mirrors. It seemed a curtain could be pulled to isolate this section off from the rest of the workshop.

“And here is our measuring and testing room – where the patients get measured and try new outfits. I will not settle for anything less than perfection,” she concluded firmly.

I saw myself in the mirror and sighed. Was it wrong that I was a tiny bit upset at how ridiculous my outfit was? The lab coat was bad enough, but a face mask. an old swim cap?! *Goggles? * It wasn’t even comfortable! I heard River’s finger dance on her keyboard, and her robotic voice asked, “Is everything ok Judith? You seem sad”.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I replied but she gave me a look with a tilt of the head I knew indicated concern.

“I just… I don’t like my outfit.” I admitted in a very low voice.

“Then it’s time for a new one,” intoned Maker. “Girls, you know what to do!” This triggered a flurry of activity. Meanwhile River was almost jumping up and down with glee.

“Wait wait, I don’t want you to make me a new outfit…” I protested weakly. Maybe I did want a new outfit?

River started typing furiously “The moment of emergence, when a patient gains a piece of independence, of identity, is especially important, and we get a new outfit to reflect this change. Now you too are changing outfits. You are changing your outfit from a mere visitor one to one that fits who you have become – the Inspector!” she ended with a flourish… and then returned to bouncing around excitedly.

Maker had taken out a notebook, and her assistants were building a new giant folder, with the label “135” on it. “Now why don’t you want a new outfit? That lab coat doesn’t even fit right, and neither did your gloves. You saw how better our product is… you will be more comfortable, look better, feel better. Why go around life not liking how you look?”

“I, I…” I blushed furiously. I didn’t like being put on the spot like this. “I, uh, don’t know what to get”. Good! It was even true! What on earth was I supposed to wear then?! “No gas-masks!” I added loudly. They looked so alien… although River had somehow managed to humanize them a little.

Maker wrote something down. “Ok, tell me more about what you don’t want.”

I paused. What didn’t I want? “I… I want to be able to move. No bondage or metal bits. No crazy heels or corsets. And I don’t want, uh, how do you call it, T… total enclosure, TE. Oh, and not too revealing.”

Maker nodded, taking notes. “Ok. And nothing too thick I imagine? How about a dress? Something flowy a bit, not too tight” She saw me nod in assent, and she continued “Ok, and a pale color, to signify your role and rank – a reference to the lab coat, if you will. I think it’s very appropriate that you don’t look like a patient.”

I nodded – Maker was making a good point! “Ok but uh, no light pink or anything silly like that. Oh and I don’t like yellow.” I added. (that bikini had been a mistake).

Maker wrote a few more notes and said, “I think I can come up with something – and don’t worry, if you don’t like it, we can change it.” She clapped her hands, and her assistants backed off a bit, Patchy closing the curtain behind us.

Maker explained as she began turning the mirrors away one by one, so that I could no longer see my reflection: “it is now time for me to measure you, so I will need you to strip. The patients don’t like others seeing them naked, or seeing themselves naked, and I am guessing you might like the same privacy.”

I nodded and very hesitantly began removing my clothes. I didn’t expect this… but Maker was very professional as she took my measurements. She was very meticulous, taking dozens of measurements – the distance between my pupils, the diameter of my palm, wrist, forearm at 2 locations, the joint location, the bicep (flexed and unflexed…) various lengths… it was exacting.

“Do you really need all these measurements for a dress?” I asked?

“No, but if you want something different in the future, it’s easier if the measurements are already taken. I like having a complete file” she replied, as she measured my shoe size.

The instant she was done I put on the rubber lab coat again. I understood the patients’ reluctance to be naked too! Feeling a bit taken aback, and a bit hungry, River and I made our goodbyes and took a lunch break.

By the end of said lunch, I learned that rumors of my new outfit were spreading like wildfire, which embarrassed me further.

“Don’t you mind it,” said Red “The sisters are a very gossipy bunch. Nothing happens here that isn’t shared widely. The fact that they talk about it means they care. Oh and honey, I am *dying* to see what the Maker comes up for you” she added, fanning her face in an exaggerated fashion. Her rich red lips, the only features of her face visible, everything else hidden by her heavy red hood. As usual, she was dressed boldly with a black and red corset and her red “big boob” latex catsuit.

I couldn’t help but laugh. What a day!

Red continued “I hate to change the subject, but I just remembered – we have a board meeting this afternoon, I think you should come.”

“I guess this is a real job if I’m having meetings,” I replied.

“Perhaps, but we dress better,” replied Red, who then stuck her tongue out at me.

A little while later, I was in a room with Renee, Dr Reed and Red; the same room as this morning – minus the tension, thankfully. It looked like an ordinary meeting, with notes, coffee mugs etc.… you just had to ignore that everyone was in latex.

Dr Reed got up and said: “All board members are present. Let us begin. First, the board would like to take the moment to formally note and welcome the presence of the new Federal Ministry of Health Inspector, Miss Judith Johnson. A letter of thanks will be sent to the assistant minister for finding a replacement to the previous inspector. Oh, and Renee, be sure to add good wishes towards the old inspector and CC him – let’s not forget poor Richard.”

As Renee noted this down, I felt I was expected to say something, so I got up and said, “I uh, formally thank you for the welcome, I look forward to uh, inspect the facility and ah, ensure the well being of all present.” I decided not to even allude to what my Uncle wanted me to do. It certainly would be awkward if they knew he wished for me to find an excuse to cut their budget! The longer I could delay that mess, the better.

I noticed that the others were still looking at me. “So uh, I suppose my first official act on this board is to ask what my role in said board is, I didn’t know I was on it until a moment ago!” I sat down again – I hoped that wasn’t too petulant or silly…

Renee looked at Dr Reed and answered: “Technically speaking, you aren’t on the board – this would be a conflict of interest. Instead, you are present as an observer – although with time, I am sure you will have advice for us. Richard was a lot of help at times.”

Red added “In reality you’re almost a board member. Sure, you can’t vote, but we can’t give you paperwork to do, so it’s all good!” she said with an exaggerated smile – she then noisily shuffled her papers and stuck her tongue out at Dr Reed, who regally pretended nothing had happened.

I felt this was a good time to press on – something Dr Reed had said had given me an idea. “If I may – I have something to bring to the board’s attention” I stared. This got everyone’s attention, and I continued. “It’s about my outfit…”

“Oh, we heard girl, we heard!” said Renee laughing “I’m sure you will look great! Maker is *very* good at what she does.”

I looked pained – “Well I’m not really sure I want an outfit.”

Now Dr Reed interrupted: “Have no fear Miss Judith, if the outfit is not to your liking Maker will make whatever adjustments you need. We want you to feel comfortable here.”

“It’s the conflict of interest,” I said somewhat abruptly. “I uh, can’t accept this outfit as a gift, and I am sure that I can’t afford it either.” I added.

Renee replied again “Oh don’t worry about that – you have a budget for the outfit remember? I’ll send Margaret the bill and we will be refunded, eventually.”

“I… I had no idea.” No easy way out now!

I kept quiet for most of the rest of the meeting, which was pretty mundane – schedules, staffing, the return of some doctor, IT issues, maintenance – mixed with the unusual: latex supplies, a Halloween dance. I smiled a bit at that one, and I would have to ask River – did people dress up? How? One thing I learned that surprised me is that I now had access to the patient’s file – the therapy notes were strictly confidential, but I apparently had almost full access otherwise.

After the meeting, I returned to the office. I spoke to Margaret, who did confirm that yes, we had an “equipment” budget for my work at the Institute and that since it hadn’t been used in half a year, there was plenty of funds. The sheer casualness of her response did more to assure me that this was “ok”. I spent the end of the afternoon writing down a few notes and trying again – mostly failing – to read the old reports. As I organized my notes, I wondered what tomorrow would bring, or how long it would take before that new outfit took shape…

It was only as I was driving to my apartment than I realised something else had happened today – I was given a patient number. I wasn’t just Inspector Johnson, or Judith anymore, I was patient 135. I knew this was just administrative, and yet…

Chapter 8: The Outfit

I woke up somewhat tired. I had slept poorly because of weird dreams about the Institute – clearly the prospect of getting an “Institute-made” outfit was troubling me at some level. In one dream the outfit had been some awesome green piece, although I didn’t quite remember what it was, but in the dream, I had been so thrilled and excited that it woke me up. In another, the outfit consisted of a large beach-ball with my legs sticking out, and I had been bouncing off the wall erratically – odd. Hopefully I would get over the notion soon – I had a few more days to get used to the idea at least.

At work, Margaret had good news:

“Judith, did you know that tomorrow is payday?” she told me after a few minutes of chitchat.

“Really? Oh that’s good, it will be nice to have a little money for a change. Maybe I should take up your suggestions from yesterday and go shop for some clothes and items for the new place.” I had been wearing almost the same outfit at work every day, I just didn’t have a variety of office-suitable clothing. I was pretty sure that Margaret had noticed too, but she had kindly refrained from making any comments. “What time do stores close on a Wednesday evening in this town?” I asked.

“Why don’t you take the day off? You have vacation days, and as far as I know there is no pressing issue that can’t wait another day,” she replied.

“What a lovely idea! Is this allowed?” I answered, surprised. I never had a job with this flexibility before. “How many vacation days do I get?”

“You’re new to the government, so three weeks a year” Margaret said.

“Three weeks!” I blurted out.

“Don’t worry,” replied Margaret, “After a few years you will get more.”

I never had a job with more than two weeks off, in fact most of them just paid the “vacation 4%” and didn’t get me vacation days at all! “Well, that’s good to know… what do I do?”

Margaret spent the next 15 minutes showing me the government HR software, explaining how it had been terrible a few years ago but now finally worked… sort of.

“Thanks Margaret, you’ve been very helpful!” I said, genuinely grateful. “I suppose since I won’t be there tomorrow, I should head to the Institute today,” I added, and soon I was once again driving to the Institute.

As before, I entered the facility with Renee’s help. Today she was wearing a loose smoky transparent blouse, with a black bodysuit visible underneath, paired with a tight black skirt, knee high boots and short black gloves – once again looking like a million bucks. I had my same frumpy lab coat outfit but at least I had decent gloves now, which Renee complimented me on.

“Oh, your outfit is nice too!” I replied – was that right? It would have to do.

 

River soon showed up, dressed as she usually was – her head covered in a hood and gas-mask, a long plume of dark brown hair coming out from the top, a long flowing skirt, a tight upper body… every square centimetre was covered with black latex. As always, she had her keyboard to help her speak. She used it to intone that we should go meet a doctor.

“Dr Reed you mean?” I replied.

“Oh no, Dr Reed is busy, I meant A Doctor, she’s back from her vacation.” Typed River.

“Oh ok… lead the way then,” I answered.

We headed to the second floor of the west wing. On the way a few of the patients waved at me – maybe me being at the dance had “broken the ice” for some of them, in a way?

The doctor’s office faced the back of the building, and the windows had been covered with some kind of frosted tape to provide privacy yet let in a lot of natural light. It looked like a typical doctor’s office, perhaps a bit bigger and with older equipment.

As we got in, a patient got up – the doctor I assumed. She was wearing a greenish catsuit and hood, with a lot of details in white – a sort of apron, white gloves, booties, and a little hat with a red cross on it. It looked vaguely like one of those “sexy nurse” Halloween costumes, except with a much bigger budget of course. She was a bit tall with a curvy build. She got up and extended her hand, which I shook, noting the firm grip.

“Hello, I am A Doctor,” she said. Her accent was … odd. Vaguely German, but not quite it.

“Hello, I am Judith Johnson, the new inspector from the Federal Ministry of Health. You may call me Judith, and what should I call you?” I replied.

“I am A Doctor,” she said again, somewhat stiffly. Huh?

River intervened “A Doctor is patient 19, and she looks after our physical health, we are in good hands” intoned flatly in her text to speech. I looked at her briefly – was she trying to tell me that this patient’s name was “A Doctor?” River briefly touched me on the arm as in warning, and I decided to let this pass.

“So… tell me about your work here,” I said.

“There are many potential health problems that the patients may face. Skin health is extremely important, and I examine each patient weekly for signs of irritation, rashes etc. I also examine their feet, do flexibility tests, and make physio recommendations. I also examine basic health parameters – weight, temperature, respiration, heart rate and the like. We also do blood tests every three months, the samples are sent to a local lab for analysis.” she explained.

“So, everyone at the institute has a family doctor, so to speak. That’s good, especially given how hard it is to find a doctor these days” I replied.

“I am not hard to find, I am right here – do you need a physician?” she said somewhat stiffly.

“Me, oh no I have a doc – a family physician already.” This was only partially true – said doctor was now 2 hours drive away, but … having a patient as my doctor seemed like a bad idea.

“Well, uh, thank you for explaining and a pleasure making your acquaintance. We can go into things in more detail later, I’m still getting my bearings, so to speak” I added.

As soon as we departed, I asked River what this “a doctor” thing was about.

“That is how she calls herself, and we think the name was deeply conditioned into her. She’s one of the patients who’s “real world” identity is known thanks to a DNA test and some old newspaper archive, but she has no close relatives. To make things worse, she’s reacted pretty negatively to any attempt at explaining her past. It’s almost like the information is extremely painful to her, and there is nothing in her background that we could find that would explain that. Dr Reed is good, but there are some types of programming she cannot undo. A Doctor is what patient 19 is now. She’s an actual dermatologist you know, although her credentials expired long ago,” explained River.

Interesting – it seems that, once the Baron had kidnaped a number of women, he needed to kidnap more to help him look after the victims! Could A Doctor have been a … collaborator to the Baron? If so, it might explain why she seems completely unable or unwilling to learn anything about her past.

As we rounded a corner we almost physically ran into Patchy. After a moment to regain her composure, she made a beaconing gesture with a hand, followed by a few quick and much more abstract gestures to River.

River translated “We should follow her; Maker wants to talk to you.”

“Ah, she probably has a basic idea for the outfit, and she wants to run it by me, or maybe she needs another measurement?” I said, as we followed Patchy back to Maker’s latex crafting and repair workshop.

When we arrived, Maker stood up and made a welcoming gesture, while her two assistants struggled to contain their excitement. Could they? No…

“We are done! We will do a final test just to be sure it fits you well, but I am certain it will!” proclaimed Maker.

“But… but I thought this would take time, at least a week!” I sputtered in response.

“A week? For one outfit? I don’t know if you are saying you think we are slow or that the outfit was going to be incredibly elaborate. This isn’t a wedding dress! Although, if I am to be honest, we’ve been working on it nonstop, we were all very motivated to help you get your first proper latex outfit. But come, come!” she answered.

Gingerly, I stepped forward to the fitting corner and she closed the curtains. “Please undress, and I will show you what I have made for you. But keep your socks on!” she added. As I undressed, she took out a long garment.

“First, the most important element: the dress. It is made of thin latex in a very pale blue-grey color – we acquired a quantity of it two years ago and I’ve barely used any. You’ll note how it matches the stone the Institute is built of. And it’s also an echo to your white lab coat of today. It shows you belong here, yet you are different from the patients,” continued Maker.

I was taken aback a bit by this – I didn’t expect the choices made to be so… philosophical, so thoughtful. The dress was long, with a high collar – no cleavage in that one – but leaving the shoulders and arms bare. “Slinky” came to mind. It was cut to show off my curves clearly, but a bit looser at the bottom. It seemed to be about ankle length. It wasn’t very elaborate at all – plain almost – but now that I knew the meaning of the color…

“Please, try it on! It’s chlorinated, it should just slip right on,” said Maker.

There was a short zipper in the back. I stepped in the dress, pulled it up. It slid against my skin – a very smooth sensation. Maker stepped forward and helped close the zipper – I’m not sure I could have done so myself.

The sensation was… electrifying. It was far more intense than the lab coat. It clung to every curve, with few wrinkles, yet it didn’t feel too tight.

I looked at myself in the mirror and gasped – wow. That was me? The dress was one thing when just on a hanger, but once over a body it gained… life, appeal, vavoom…I blushed when I noticed my nipples were getting hard, and I was glad there was no one else in the room besides Maker.

“You like it, yes? The lightness of the latex makes it very easy to wear. And I made sure it was almost skin-tight but no more, again to increase comfort,” said Maker. “And now for the matching gloves…” Soon I was wearing a pair of latex opera gloves in a matching color. “You will have no problem writing with these!” she added, “Ready for the next piece?”

There was more?

“Now this piece I am very proud of. I decided to emulate your old head gear, but not so… ah, improvised,” Maker continued. “Let me put it on.” I stood still as she took out a hood, seemingly made of the same batch of latex. There was an awkward moment at first, as the eye openings were crooked, but soon I could see my face in the mirror properly.

“Soo this is a hood with a zipper in the back, you should be able to take it off quite easily if you wish. The latex is the same thin gauge, again to increase your comfort. I’ve included micro perforation over the ears to improve hearing, and for the mouth I’ve included a small circular opening so you can drink out of a straw, while the eyes are very open, very big. This is to reflect your role as someone who listens, who *sees*” Maker explained. “The eyes are covered with thin vinyl lenses. I think Latex Nemesis first came up with this idea, but I could be wrong. You’ll find that they see quite well, but because the vinyl is so thin, it often is slightly warped. This is a reminder, when you are inspecting, that no one truly sees completely objectively – our experiences and biases always change our perception” she continued on.

I struggled to pay attention to her as I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress changed how my body looked, in a good way. But the hood changed how I looked *completely* - as if it had transformed my identity into something else, something… I shuddered slightly. The feeling of the latex covering my entire face was … intoxicating.

The face looking at me was exotic – no alien. The eyes openings were large and angular, vaguely feline. The vinyl “windows” were indeed quite clear, and my vision wasn’t too impaired, although the faint ripples created slight, wavy distortions, giving everything a faint “underwater” quality. It was as if I had stepped in a parallel universe almost identical to our own, which I had, in a way. It seemed I could hear quite well in it. Maker was correct – this was the visage of someone who looked, who observed, not someone who spoke all the time.

I was also stunned how… beautiful my face looked hooded. I thought that the baron preferred kidnapping women with near perfect facial features, but I now realized a well fitted hood could do wonders. I looked like a superhero at a ball or something.

“Wow…” was all I managed to say. It seemed speaking wasn’t too difficult either, thankfully.

“I am so glad you liked it, although I knew you would. And we are not done!” said Maker, clearly very satisfied.

“We aren’t?” I said faintly.

“Almost! First, let’s get you some shoes – you can’t walk around barefoot like this. Thankfully, the institute has a very large shoe and boot collection, although nothing in this exact color – so white will have to do. Is this to your liking?” replied Maker.

She opened a box – from a brand named “Pleaser” and pulled out some midcalf shiny white boots, with a one-inch platform and a 4-inch blocky heel. The fit was correct, although I wasn’t used to being so tall.

“They are the correct size, but shoes are very personal – if you find they aren’t comfortable, we’ll keep trying different ones until we find the perfect fit. Perhaps the Baron should have gotten a cobbler haha!”

I laughed weakly at her joke – it didn’t seem like a joking matter to me but…

“And now, the cape!” she continued.

“A cape?”

“Yes! It’s in the same color but a somewhat heavier gauge so it drapes properly.” She slid it over my shoulders and clasped it in the front at my neck. It was quite short, ending at the waist. It didn’t close in all the way on my chest, but at least covered enough of my breast that my increasingly erect nipples weren’t so darn obvious, and I was glad for it.

“The purpose of the cape is a visual reminder of the lab coat you once wore. I also thought it would be a sneaky way to have you experience TE without it really being TE.”

“TE?” I asked.

“Total enclosure”

“Ah yes, I had forgotten” I replied weaky. I looked at myself in the mirror again – it did indeed create the visual effect that I was completely covered, and my shoulders and upper arms were hidden by the small cape… but if I moved a certain way they would be visible again – TE and not TE.

“Satisfied?” said Maker, sounding very pleased with herself.

“I… I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting something so elaborate,” I answered hesitantly.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I love crafting new looks. Repairing catsuits gets old, but *creating*, now that’s what it’s about!” said Maker.

“It’s … beautiful” I said. What I didn’t dare say was that it was hot as hell… but as I said it, I realized that it wasn’t just sexy, it was striking. I sort of looked like a Greek statue. I looked at myself in the mirror and, as a lark, struck a pose, then froze, becoming as still as I could be. I *did* look like a marble statue! But what I didn’t expect was the deep calming effect this immobility had – was this what River meant before? It was like if not moving was … preferable, desirable.

I blinked, the spell broke, and I added, hesitantly “but I don’t think I can wear this in public…”

“Oh, this look isn’t for the public, it’s for here! Do not worry, I am sure the sisters will love it! Listen, why don’t you try it for a day or two, see how it works out. If you like it, great! I’ll make backup copies. If not, no worries, we’ll make something else. But you need some experience before you can understand what really works best for you. It’s part of the process!” Maker replied confidently.

“… back up copies?”

“Oh yes, just in case this one needs repair (your gloves *will* break btw, it happens to all of us) or is in the wash – don’t worry, we will take care of all that for you”.

“I’m not sure what to say but thank you, I can see a lot of work and thought went into this” I said.

“It's all good! It’s a starter outfit – when you feel ready, we will discuss again and create an even better look. But I’m quite pleased with myself. Now, are you ready for the real challenge!?

“A challenge?” Oh god what was next? Wasn’t this enough?!

“The fashion show!... I mean showing your outfit to the others. Let me warn you, this is a big deal to most of them. This isn’t just a new haircut, it’s a new you!”

I nodded feebly… and looked at myself in the mirror again. It *was* a new me. I looked so different… and the feeling was… almost overwhelming. “Ok, let’s get this over with.”

I barely had time to turn around as Maker yanked the curtains open with a “TADA!” Immediately the assistants erupted in squeals and cheers. River was jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

I hadn’t even figured out how to react to this when River raised a hand, and the noise stopped almost immediately. She and the others approached slowly; one hand raised. River hesitated, cocking her head. Was she asking permission? I… she was my friend, and so I nodded.

She then closed the distance, and laid a hand on my shoulder, bowing her head. Patchy and the other assistants followed suit. I also felt a hand lay on my back – Maker I assumed. They all grew still and silent. I didn’t know what this meant, but it was … powerful. Was this a blessing? A communion?

I held my breath, and with a few seconds the moment passed, the latex-clad patients stepped back, breaking contact. “Well done!” Maker said loudly.

“What does this mean, I don’t understand?

River’s fingers danced on her keyboard, “The reveal of a sister’s look, or a major change, is significant. It is a new identity, or a new version at least. We do this to acknowledge and welcome the new identity into the fold.”

“Oh, that’s pretty neat” I replied, then paused… but what did it mean they had done this to me?

River continued, “You are going to be working with us for a long time, right?”

I looked at her blankly, then gasped faintly. The institute had been operating for over seven years already, and still the majority of patients needed care. It could take decades! Which meant my position could have a really long duration. I could be working here for twenty, thirty years.

I felt a sense of panic, then calmed myself – I could quit if I wanted to, I wasn’t trapped here… but still, I really should stay at least 2-3 years to clear my debts. And honestly, with my limited qualifications, this might be the best salary I could ever hope to get, in my entire life. So yes, I could hang on for a few years, then decide what to do.

But it still meant I was going to be like this, completely covered in sleek, tight latex, every day for at least two years… the thought slammed into me, and I groaned. It was like if the realization that this latex experience was going to be for such a long time had made the sensations *stronger*, more intense. I felt this wave of… desire, and yearning. Yes, I could do this for my entire career. I could work long hours, weekends. Anything to prolong this glorious sense of being, this deep erotic joy. … what was wrong with me?!

My legs felt wobbly, and I felt Maker put her hands on my shoulders to steady me. “Take a seat my dear, you will be ok – the hands are not just for connection, they are for support. Although normally when sisters feel a bit overwhelmed it’s at that moment, not two minutes later ha! But it’s ok dear, this is all new to you!”

After a few moments had passed, River said “Judith, why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get you a bit of food, you’ll feel better”. I nodded feebly. I took a deep breath, got up carefully then said, “So uh, thank you Maker and Patchy and uh, I didn’t get your names, it’s a very cool outfit, and, uh, I really appreciate that you made it with so much effort and consideration.”

“Oh, it was fun!” replied Maker, “I look forward to working with you again!”

As we walked and climbed stairs towards the cafeteria, I realized that the dress was *just* loose enough to allow a normal step forward, or up a step on the stairs. Doing two steps at a time, or running, wouldn’t be quite possible, the dress just was too tight for it. I later learned that there were skirts and dresses that were even tighter than this, called hobbled skirts, which would only allow small, tiny steps. I was glad this wasn’t too bad… but it had the rather… interesting… effect of being somewhat loose around my legs except at the moment where my legs were the most extended, the most far apart, when I was walking. So the dress would go from being loose to tight to loose to tight to loose to tight… It was a unique sensation. It certainly added to the erotic effect of the outfit, which was already quite significant.

Maybe I would get used to it in time? A lot of the patients were in a near constant state of orgasm, and they seemed able to handle it just fine. But … *why* was I turned on? I hadn’t been conditioned by years of hypnosis and constant exposure. I wasn’t well, getting any sort of “action”, it wasn’t like River and I were going to start kissing… I blushed deeply as I wondered why I had chosen that example… How did people kiss in a gasmask? uh whatever!

I decided to stop obsessing about this and instead look around. The reaction of the patients around me had changed somewhat. While a few still ignored me (or anyone else, really), others openly looked and some even waived. It seemed that the appearance of a “new” person in latex was really of interest to the patients, which itself was interesting – perhaps something I could include in a report… hmmm. I would have to couch what they were responding to in code, I couldn’t be writing a report to the executive director saying, “so I started wearing latex and the patients thought it was cool.” No wonder the old inspector had been so obscure!

Soon enough we reached the cafeteria, to see that Renee and Red were already eating, deep in conversation. As soon as Renee saw me however she got up and squealed “Wow, look at you! You look great, that is such a neat design!” She gave me a great, muscular hug, which was probably the most intense hug I’ve ever had in my life – the feeling of her statuesque body almost melding into mine, separated only by a thin layer of latex…

I couldn’t even respond, but Red gave me some time to compose myself as she interjected “Wow, Maker did a great job didn’t she?” Her rich lips broke in a wide grin – her mouth zipper was open as she had been eating. “Just look at that color choice to start with, isn’t that brilliant?”

I nodded, thankful for the comment. “Yes, the color is based on the stone of the building itself. Each element has a story, I was really surprised. And uh, fast too!”

River added in her mechanical voice “Judith was very brave during the process, which is new to her. We thought some food might help.”

“Today’s meal is the Philly sandwich,” said Red, “But…that’s not going to be good for you.”

What did she mean… oh, the opening. I had only been wearing the hood for 30 minutes, and somehow the fact that I only had a straw hole for a mouth had already become so normal to me that I already had forgotten. “Does that mean I have to take the nutrition fluid?” I asked.

“Oh,” said Renee “I guess it would be the easiest way? I know you didn’t have a great introduction to it…”

“Well, I wouldn’t be drinking as much – maybe a small portion. Would that affect me a lot?” I knew the fluid also had some sexual hormones and a mixt of THC and CBD.

Red answered, “You’re definitely going to feel it, but it won’t be a strong effect – nothing like what happened to you at the dance”.

I said “I guess I could try it once – I suppose I can cab home if I’m not ok to drive by the end of the day?”

River nodded and typed “Yes, a test is a good idea. I had a few plans for you this afternoon, but you can just take it easy, there is no big rush. And if it doesn’t work out, we could ask Maker to alter the hood.”

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary” I replied – it was bad enough that Maker had gone through all the trouble of making the outfit! – “but yes, let’s do a test.” Soon River was back with two glasses filled with the beige liquid, mine only half full, however. She also brought me a bottle of orange juice, which made me smile.

The food and hydration definitely made me feel a bit better. By the end of the lunch however, I definitely was feeling the effects. I was more aroused, yes, but only by a small degree. But perhaps the CBD made the biggest difference. It was good against anxiety, and it made me realize maybe I was making too big a deal out of this. Ok, this felt *really* good – maybe the THC was enhancing the effect – and what was wrong with that? I wasn’t judging the patients for it, why should I judge myself?

I decided I would just go… walk around the institute. Look around, take it in. I assured the others I would be fine, and began my tour.

My memories of that afternoon are vague. I walked the halls, looking at the various patients doing all the things they did – wash the halls, dance, exercise, repair latex, process the cubes, gossip, laugh, sleep… Sometimes I felt like I was just like them. I was a patient and too stubborn, too silly to realize. Sometimes it felt like a dream… like I was a dream, a shadow, a ghost, blending into the pale walls, not really there, an awareness nothing more.

I saw that blue latex ballerina twirl and twirl and twirl around be and then she was gone. I saw a patient seemingly made of metal. She was so tall she made Renee seem short in comparison. I stood by as she lightly clanked by. I saw another covered in latex with no apparent opening save two small valves. She crawled blindly on the floor, slowly feeling the way ahead with her hands. I assumed this was normal.

The slight waviness created by the thin vinyl lenses created this sense of unreality. My feelings churned – desire and yearning, shivers of excitement, confusion, shame, lust, and above all wonder, joy even. Was this how the other patients, how River experienced the world? We were far, far outside the norm here, so far so I wondered if our current understanding of psychology meant anything here.

It must have been past four PM when I ran into Dr Reed. She looked at me oddly for an instant, not recognizing me, then she clearly figured it out and called out my name.

“Miss Johnson? Is this the outfit Maker prepared for you? My, oh my, she must have been motivated! Look at you, this is great isn’t it?”

I smiled as I nodded and said, “It’s, ah, something all right.” I saw her prepare to launch more questions. I knew she wanted to talk more about the outfit and my feelings about it. I didn’t want to. I needed to figure it out by myself first.

“Ah Dr Reed, I had a question…” I asked, as much to divert the topic than anything else.

“Ah, anything for you Miss Judith” she replied.

“So, uh…”… shit what could I ask… oh! “So, why the cubes?”

Dr Reed replied “Well, we believe that the Baron had this obsession with bondage and control, and using the cubes.”

I jumped in, interrupting “That’s not what I meant… I mean… why *that* way? Couldn’t he just put them in chains or some other thing? Why this elaborate cube filled with strange chemicals? It seems like a lot of work”.

Dr Reed looked at me shrewdly “That is an excellent question. We believe that it has to do with pressure points. Patients who are immobile for long periods of time risk developing bed sores – constant pressure applied always at the same spot can create injuries. The cube is filled with a gel that is tough but flexible. It supports the entire body all at once, almost like floating in water. Pressure is thus distributed evenly, and bed sores are avoided.”

She continued. “As extreme as the Baron’s methods were, he still had to make some compromises due to the limits of the human body and our current technology. I believe that if it had been possible, the Baron would have made the bondage permanent. But he could never achieve it – even with the blue fluid, this near wondrous skin lotion we still don’t understand how it works, can’t allow for much more than a month of skin isolation.”

The mention of the Baron was sobering. “I see…” I said pensively. “I think I’ve had enough of the Institute for one day. I have, uh, duties tomorrow, I should be back on Thursday. So, ah, thank you for your time, Dr Reed”.

“And you as well Inspector Johnson,” replied Dr Reed. “I hope this new outfit does the trick – and don’t hesitate to talk to Maker if you have any issues or want changes, it’s what she’s here for. Renee mentioned you are taking tomorrow off, yes? I will see you Thursday!”

As I walked away, I thought about what Dr Reed had been wearing – her long white double breasted lab coat, with a sort of brick-red gloves and trousers underneath. Her white hood with the transparent face and pony-tail opening showed a bit more of her features than mine, but not much. In some ways, I could see the parallels – both of us were covering ourselves head to toe in latex so we could make the patients' lives easier. But was there more? Part of me desperately wanted to ask her more questions – how did *she* feel wearing all this latex? But I wasn’t ready to talk about how I felt… but I knew I was going to have to, at some point. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to figure this all out by myself.

I made my way to the locker room – someone had brought my lab coat and other gear in my locker. Removing the latex was a very strange feeling – it was a bit cold, due to a thin layer of sweat that had built up, I expected that. But the “return to reality” was… so strange. Even though the latex was gone, in some ways it was still there – the memory of the sensations was very vivid! – and it equally made itself felt by its absence. It was almost like I had just discovered that normal reality was… bland, empty. Like something vital was missing. Going to a restaurant to enjoy unsalted potatoes and water the day after discovering steak. I let out a deep breath – it was done, I could go home now.

I left the lab coat near the rear entrance and brought the other stuff back home– the bathing suit and bathing caps, the gloves, the googles, the facemask. I wouldn’t need them here anymore.

Chapter 9: The Outing

I slept in a bit, and when the alarm rang, I was dreaming of the previous day – it seemed that I dreamed about the institute, the latex, most nights now. It was good to take a break. I was… getting a bit worried about my reaction. Was I going to end up like Red? Essentially absorbed by the Institute? If I worked there long enough, it seemed like a very strong possibility. I mean… I could probably keep a bit of distance, but … I worried if I worked at the Institute long enough, I wouldn’t be able to stop doing so. Even now a part of me was excited at the thought of wearing so much latex so frequently, of being at the Institute….

Yes, it was good I took the day off, that I could go shopping and distract myself from all these questions.

Back at the Institute

In the gravel parking lot in the back of the Institute, two figures stood besides a motorcycle.

One was wearing a cream colored double-breasted latex lab coat. She was also wearing brick red latex trousers and gloves, four inch pumps, a hood matching her lab coat but with brick red trim and a thin transparent face, showing her freckles and pale skin. A simple opening in the back let loose a pony tail of thick, curly almost orange hair.

Her interlocutor was far more imposing – tall and statuesque, she looked as she would have been home on the runway. She was wearing a black latex catsuit covering her entire body. Over the latex were various parts of protective gear, looking almost like black armor, covering her elbows and knees, shoulders, chest, down her spine, gauntlets... The outfit was completed with a pair of black leather boots, mid calf, with a stout three inch metal heel and a few too many buckles. She held a black motorcycle helmet, which matched the sporty and sleek looking motorcycle parked beside her.

“Wouldn’t it be simpler just to wear latex under riding leathers?” asked Dr Reed.

“Yes, but that would weaken my story wouldn’t it? If I can hide the latex…” replied Renee.

“Fair enough. You have the uniform?” continued Dr Reed.

“Of course,” replied Renee, “and the day to day outfits. I also shipped a spare to the hotel so I have that as a backup too. Don’t worry, I go to this meeting every year.”

“This year is different,” said the doctor, nodding at Renee’s outfit. “They haven’t seen this side of you”

Renee laughed “Don’t worry Dr Reed, I make this shit *look good*. And it’s the plan, isn’t it? They will be eating out of my hand in Washington.”

In a local shopping mall

I looked at myself in the mirror and sighed. I could see myself in a new “office ish” outfit in the mirror. It was so… bland. So boring. I might as well dress in a paper bag or a burlap sack, it would be cheaper and not look any worse. This was the third store I had visited, and it was all the same. I was probably going to buy this one because well, I needed more work clothes but… ugh. I felt the life draining out of me.

I returned to the changing room, put my casual clothes back on, and went from “generic office worker at Beige Corp” to “generic basic young woman”. It was just a different kind of boring. I looked at the mirror. I couldn’t help but imagine myself in a latex outfit, hood included, the slick thin rubber covering my curves… I shivered at the delicious idea – the idea was so real I could feel the latex on my skin… I could feel the latex on my skin?! What was happening?

I grabbed my purse, left the clothes I tried in the booth and scampered out of there. What was wrong with me? At least the mad rush out of the store had distracted me and that almost overwhelming latex sensation had disappeared as mysteriously as it had appeared. What was going on with that? Was the latex somehow ruining other clothing? I didn’t think so but…

The problem was… I hadn’t managed to find a single outfit because these outfits weren’t “me”! And strangely enough, wearing latex seemed “me”, or at least seemed like a “me” I secretly wished to be. But I can’t be wearing latex outside the institute… it wouldn’t be acceptable, and maybe not good for my mental health either. All things in moderation! But what was I supposed to do? Continue buying cheap, bland, generic clothing? Blend in with the wallflowers?

What am I supposed to wear? How was I supposed to look? Perhaps “supposed” was the wrong word, perhaps it was up to me? But then… What was it? How could I tell?! It should reflect who I am but… who am I?

Back at the Institute

Dr Reed looked at Renee as the tall beauty put on her helmet. The change in look didn’t seem to phase the doctor in any way. “Well let us hope our good fortunes continue. When are you coming back?” the doctor asked.

“I will be back by Monday,” replied Renee

“How long can we keep this going?” said the doctor.

“I don’t know, but at *least* 4-5 more years. After that… depends on the data. If we do it right, they might just leave the project behind and not risk shutting it down,” said Renee, pensively.

“Ok, but … what about Judith? It’s a change, it’s a real risk” said Dr Reed, her lips pursing

“There is always a risk… but I think we can manage. As long as she doesn’t raise a big stink, I don’t think the people in Washington care at all. What is one young Federal Ministry of Health employee going to do? Write a report? It will be fine. But I need to get going, the road to Washington is long.”

The latex covered woman, sleek back curves on metal, roared away from the parking lot. The other, in white and burgundy, gave a faint salute to the departing figure.

Chapter 10: Filling In

I returned to the Institute Thursday morning, with rather mixed feelings. I got to the parking lot. The sky was grey, it had rained last night. I closed my eyes and sighed. It was going to be ok. Right?

I stepped in. No one was there to greet me, although I could hear activity in the background. Odd. I entered the locker room; my outfit was there – I think it had been washed and dried already. I put it on slowly, hesitantly. But when I put on the hood, when I looked at myself in the mirror… the pale grey figure before me felt alien and yet… so *right*. Why did I keep fretting over it? “Oh noes, my work uniform is super hot, what shall I do?!” And speaking of work, well I was at work, wasn’t I? Better get going! But … What would I be doing today?

As I walked the corridors some of the patients waved at me, and I waived right back. I couldn’t seem to find Renee or River, but I bumped into Red as I was heading to Dr Reed’s office.

“Oh, hello Red… I was expecting Renee to greet me this morning,” I asked indirectly.

“Good morning Judith! You look amazing, I love it!” replied Red after unzipping her mouth… the mouth opening on her hood… of course it was the opening of her hood, it’s not like closing that zipper zipped her mouth shut! But in a way it did? Oh god what was I thinking?!

I managed to mumble a thank you as Red continued:

“Didn’t you get the email I sent you yesterday afternoon?” I shook my head, explaining I wasn’t at work.

“You have to use your out of office auto-reply girl!” she replied. “But anyway, long story short Renee is on a vacation, and people had to be shifted around – I’m basically doing her job and River is doing mine.”

“I see,” I replied.

“So that’s what the email explained – and to go to the dressing room so the dressers can do their jobs and then come see me.”

I nodded. I was supposed to get dressed by the patients? Uh…

“But you got dressed by yourself, that’s fine. So, ah, let’s begin. Can you do me a favor?” Red continued. “We do similar work here – quality control in a way, making sure that things are done right and that the patients are treated well, yes?”

I nodded firmly – I felt it was “too soon” for me to fully trust Red, but she was right that our roles were similar. “I would be glad to help,” I replied.

“Great. So besides checking things like ‘is the cube bondage done properly’, I also monitor the classes the patients are receiving to ensure they are conducted correctly. But there are only so many hours in the day, and the classes inspection is not a priority… Now with Renee gone I simply do not have the time. So it would help me a lot if this morning and afternoon you could please go to a few classes to check them out. This morning, it’s just to go to the gym and monitor the exercise class,” said Red. “That way I can attend to some more pressing matters.”

“Oh!” I said. “I’m not sure if I’m qualified to evaluate physio, but I am curious to see what is being done” I replied cheerfully.

“This one is just regular exercise for patients with full or near full mobility, it’s not physio. Heck, I take that class some days! All you have to do is to confirm that yes, they are doing what seems like reasonable exercise for the majority of the class, and not 10 jumping jacks followed by an hour of giggling and gossiping,” explained Red.

“Giggling and gossiping?” I exclaimed.

“Oh it’s a soap opera in here sometimes.” Said Red. “Anyway, the class is starting in ten minutes, so you better go! The east wing” she added. “Oh, and I’ll talk to you at lunch, see how it went.”

I blinked, nodded, turned on my heels and headed to the gym. Giggling and gossiping? I guess it wasn’t just River who was a bit mischievous. I got there a few minutes before the class started, and the patients who were taking part – about a dozen – were getting ready. The majority were dressed in black spandex, taking advantage of the class to also spend time out of latex to give their skin a break. The few in rubber were in loose “tracksuit” style latex. Everyone was in sensible shoes. I sat down on a bench at the back.

The instructor came in – ah I think I knew her a little bit, that was Alexandra, the latex ballerina. She was dressed in a transparent blue catsuit that gleamed like glass, combined with black latex gloves, flats and a black hood that – just like mine – showed her eyes and little else. The latex was skintight, with the exception of the shoulders – that joint needed a lot of mobility. A student stepped forward and helped her remove her reverse prayer arm binder. She swayed in her blue catsuit, her arms undulating, returning mobility and flexibility to her limbs. God she was striking.

It was that moment she saw me, and locked eyes with me. And she *kept looking*, the entire class. I was transfixed, unable to break contact. Had she pinned me physically against the wall it would not have been more effective.

The class… happened I supposed, as she led her students in various motions, a sort of dance aerobic class you could call it. I couldn’t give you much more details than that, as I was completely captivated by Alexandra’s graceful form, her fluid gestures, her slender shiny blue curves. She never once stopped looking directly at me, and I never managed to look away.

At one point, she was doing some kind of hip stretching exercise and I couldn’t help but wish that she was not in front of the class but right *here*, grinding her hips against me… I was glad I was wearing a hood to hide my furious blushing, but there was no hiding from those piercing blue eyes. It was hard to shake the impression that she could read my mind, and that I could read hers, that I could tell that she too wanted to grind herself against me…

Then the clock rang. I blinked. Had it been an hour? How?! I slumped in my chair, and remained there, stunned, until a patient patted me on the shoulder as she left. I got up slowly, feeling a bit shaky. Thankfully, Alexandra had already departed… I’m not sure I could have faced her… I’m not sure if I could ever look her in the eyes ever again.

I left the gym and walked towards the main lobby, not quite sure what I was supposed to do next. I then heard a voice.

“Hey Judith, are you ok? You look lost,” intoned a mechanical voice – it was River.

“Oh, hi River, uh, I’m not lost but I don’t know what I should be doing right at this moment. Maybe a bit thirsty” I replied.

“Let’s go grab some fluid at the cafeteria,” suggested River.

“Oh, the last thing I need is fluid!” I was still a bit weak in the knee after Alexandra’s dance, and I certainly didn’t want to be taking the nutrition fluid with all the cannabinoids and sexual hormones in there. “But uh, I’ll take an orange juice.”

As we sat down for a little break and snack, I asked River: “So, Renee is on vacation – does she go on tropical vacations like Red – uh Carol, technically?”

“She’s down in Washington DC, I think she has family there,” replied River as I sipped on the straw – the sweet liquid seemed to help me settle. “But don’t worry, she’s only gone a few days, she’ll be back Monday” she added, fingers dancing on her keyboard.

“Oh good – so uh, where did A Doctor go?” I asked again.

River finished taking a sip of nutrition fluid, holding up a finger, then intoned “Oh A Doctor stayed here. She is a full patient; she doesn’t leave the compound.

“Oh… so what’s a vacation for a patient then?” I said, puzzled.

“As you know, there is a lot of work to be done here – cleaning, cooking, looking after each other, working out…” I nodded and she continued “So a vacation is a period with no work. We instead spend time doing fun stuff. Sometimes we’ll spend the entire vacation in the cube.”

I could tell from her body language that she found the idea quite appealing. “Really? Isn’t that… tedious or scary?” The cube had this odd… pull on me, I was very curious, but I couldn’t see why a patient would want to go back in it.

“Oh no, it’s not the same at all!” replied River. “First, we go by choice, we know we are going to be let out eventually. And we can customize some of the details, like the hypnosis. All day long bondage, sensory deprivation, constant orgasm, and *just* the fantasy we want via custom hypnosis? It’s …” River stopped typing and hugged herself, looking skyward. I didn’t need to see her face to realize that the memory was almost… ecstasy.

“Wow, that sounds… almost too good?” I said, hesitantly. I wasn’t sure what to make of this – from a certain point of view, it sounded absolutely wonderful. From another… dangerously seductive.

“We only stay one week at a time, otherwise we start getting stiff and losing mobility again” replied River. “I understand that there are limits to how much bondage and rubber someone can take. I feel my life is well balanced now – I can work, be with my friends, and enjoy a latex life all at the same time.”

“But don’t you wish to see the outside world again?” I replied.

“Of course,” said River, “but while I’m sure Paris is pretty cool, I am not willing to give up latex. I understand that we wouldn’t be accepted.” Her shoulders slumped a little, and so did mine.

“Hey, you never know” I said, “The future might see you in Paris yet!”

River giggled, and then added “Hey, do you want to meet I.T.? I’m free for a little bit, my afternoon is full.”

“Sure… but who is I.T.?” I replied. River got up and began explaining as we were on the way, crossing from the east to west wing.

“I.T., or I.T. Services, is the person looking after our IT systems. She manages the internal network, the outward facing network (separate for security reasons), the intercom system and the voice hypnosis systems.” River explained. “She is also a patient, and she speaks with a vocabulator like me, but she doesn’t need a keyboard to use it. Her voice is… well her voice is the same voice in the hypnosis tapes. Most of us have to make a conscious effort to not simply obey her automatically. She doesn’t abuse her power, thankfully. Oh, and she doesn’t wear rubber,” she concluded.

“Interesting!” I replied. “Let’s go see this person, I’m intrigued!” I knew some patients had recovered fully and left the institute, but someone giving latex up and choosing to still stay here, that seemed very odd…

My thoughts were interrupted as we entered the server room, and a gleaming figure rose to meet us. Oh I was wrong, I was so wrong.

She was a work of art. All shining chrome curved and polished... was like a mixture of that female robot in Metropolis, that old science fiction film, and of the metal fashion outfit Mugler had done in the late 90s – I knew about it because Zendaya had worn it earlier this year. Her heels were impossibly tall, and with the sort of metal headdress she was wearing her total height must have been over 7 feet tall.

I looked at her again. Her curves were almost impossible. Unlike what Mugler had done, where almost half the suit was transparent plastic, not a single square centimetre of skin was visible, it was all metal – even her eyes were a silvered visor. I realized I had seen her a few days ago, after trying my outfit for the first time, but at the time I had been so overwhelmed it hadn’t fully registered how fantastic what I was seeing was.

She turned towards us. Her face was entirely metal, with a neutral expression. There was a stillness to her, as if she didn't breathe.

“Greetings Inspector Johnson, I have been expecting you.” Her voice was feminine and very pleasant, but still slightly robotic. Her features didn’t move. How did she speak exactly?

“Uh hello, nice to meet you. And, how did you know we were coming?” I asked, my voice almost steady.

“You have been making visits to most departments of the Institute, there was a chance, greater than 90%, that you were going to come here within eight days,” she replied.

I then noticed that River had fallen to one knee. As I paused, she said, “Greetings, cyborg mistress,” and got up again.

If I.T. had a reaction, it was hidden by her gleaming metal mask. “Thank you. But you exaggerate. I am merely a cyborg.”

“Ah, a bit like River, a program over a person?” I said.

River put her hand on my shoulder and said “Not quite. I.T. is patient 1024 and she is unique. Her personality was completely removed. She runs 12 programs at once.”

“… what?!” I exclaimed. Is that even possible?! I remember from university, the average human could “hold” 5 to 7 thoughts in their head at once at the same time. 12 programs sounded bonkers.

“Because my memories and personality were removed, my capacities were enhanced. However, the plan was for me to be a 16-bit robot. I cannot manage more than 12. Due to this, I rotate programs as required.”

I balked. “So… you cannot return to normal, heal?”

“That is correct. I mourn the unknown person I once was. It was not fair to her, being erased. But I am here, and I can assist the other patients.”

I… every day this place was throwing me curve balls. Flailing for something intelligent to ask, I said “So, you are patient 1024? That doesn’t seem to match the patient numbering scheme…”

I didn’t add that I had been given a patient number myself, for Maker’s outfits file. So, if I was the latest at 135, I didn’t understand how I.T. could be 1024.

“The most likely explanation is that the number is a small computer joke, related to the 1024 number coming up frequently in computing, especially in the older days,” said the gleaming figure. “But there is another: that there are other locations with patients, and that the total number of patients exceeds a thousand. Records of my origin are fragmentary and contradictory.”

“Or the Baron is just messing with us,” I said darkly. The notion that there were other locations… I shivered. Just how powerful, how *obsessed* was this guy?! … I couldn’t fret about this; the Institute was more than enough to worry about.

Some lights on a wall behind her light up. She held up a finger, turned around and plugged in a jack cord into a socket, then pressed a button. The light turned a different hue, then shut off after a few more seconds.

“An intercom connection,” she explained.

“I see… so how long do you spend in your metal suit?” I asked. I really wasn’t sure what to ask at this point.

“23 hours and 50 minutes per day. There is an automated station in the basement which washes the suit and performs hygiene functions on the organic component. The organic component is also examined for damage regularly by A Doctor,” she explained. “However, I must note that your statement is technically incorrect – I am a cyborg, a union of flesh and machine. The suit is part of me. During those few minutes, I cease to exist.”

“Wow… you can sleep in that suit?” I continued.

“I do not sleep,” she simply replied.

“I… uh, well thank you for your time I.T, this was, ah, very informative. I am sure we will speak again later”.

She looked impassively as we left. I couldn’t imagine being trapped in a metal suit like that. I mean it was cool – would be one *heck of a costume* - but *all the time*? She couldn’t touch or feel anything! And no sleep? That couldn’t be healthy…

“Why did you kneel like that?” I asked River.

“There are two reasons,” she replied in her robotic voice. “First, as I have mentioned before, for whatever reason the Baron gave her the same voice as the hypnotic recordings. But it’s also out of respect and sympathy for what was done to her. Whoever she was before is … completely gone. The Baron seemed to have considered some of his victims more as … tools. What he did to us was profoundly wrong. But I feel with her, and perhaps also with A Doctor, it was much worse. At least we found a way to find happiness and joy. I don’t think she is capable of feeling emotions at all.”

“I think I need lunch after this,” I simply replied. It was too … big to really understand.

We returned to the cafeteria, and this time I allowed myself to drink a bit of the nutrition fluid. I hoped the CBD in there would help settle my nerves a bit. River, perhaps sensing my discomfort, decided to entertain me a little by sharing stories about activities at the Institute. Apparently, every Wednesday night they played video games, and River had won the Mario Kart tournament several times. I couldn’t help but laugh at the notion of a gaggle of women clad in latex cursing each other as they got hit by a red shell.

River then said, “I forgot to mention something, Dr Reed was hoping to talk to you this afternoon.” Hrm, I wished I had known that before picking lunch!

“I suppose I could, but I’ve already told Red I would attend some classes for her – oh there she is!

Red joined us, holding a large glass of nutrition fluid. She unzipped her mouth zipper and took a long sip. “Ooof that was a lot of work, but I got the paperwork done. How was class today?”

“Well, uh…” I hesitated a bit then blurted out “Alexandra led a great class, no problem, everything was fine!”

“You went to a class by Alexandra?” typed River, her body language not quite matching the flat robotic tone. “I heard she has a crush on you, you know?” she added. “No problem, everything fine?”

“Gossiping and giggling it is, I see!” I said back in pretend anger, and Red roared in laughter. Following a few more rounds of protests and teasing, I settled back on business. “So Red, these classes are what, and when? I’m supposed to go see Dr Reed this afternoon too.”

“Well, I was thinking. You probably would like to learn the sign language the patients are using?” asked Red. “There is a class every afternoon, why don’t you go check it out? “Inspect it” if you will. It’s from 1 to 3, 3rd floor west wing. I’ll let Dr Reed know you’ll be visiting her after that”.

“Wow, that sounds like a great idea, thanks!” I replied. This would be so helpful. “I better get going then, maybe I can talk with the instructor before the classes begin,” I added as I got up.

Soon enough I was in a small classroom with a projector. A patient was inside, setting up a laptop. She looked up, saw me and said “Hi, I’m Gabby. And you’re the inspector I heard so much about?”

“Yes,” I replied, “you can call me Judith.” I extended my hand and Gabby shook it firmly. She had large, strong hands, clad in yellow. “Red asked me to uh, inspect your class, but to be honest I’m very curious about it. I know the patients have their own sign language, given that the majority of them are gagged. I feel that I should learn it so I can talk with the patient better,” I continued.

Gabby smiled. She was wearing a type of hood I hadn’t seen before. It left her face and the top of her head open, so I could see her dark sandy hair and freckles. It reminded me a little bit of a comic book character – Jean Grey in X-Men 97, although Gabby herself didn’t look much like Jean Grey. She had squarish, broad features and a radiant smile. However, a network of narrow straps was set around her face in a sort of head harness, creating a contrast to her friendly demeanor. Her outfit was fairly simple – black catsuit, a simple corset, knee high boots… her body was covered with more straps forming a body harness. She also had cuffs around her biceps, wrists, thighs, a collar… all of them locked.

I blushed as I realised she knew I was checking her out. “It’s ok!” she laughed, “The gloves are yellow for enhanced visibility when I’m teaching classes. And I like your outfit” she added.

“Ah, thank you! But the credit goes to Maker really, I didn’t do anything” I said. “Your outfit is, uh, nice” I added. … I hesitated as I searched for something less bland than just nice. bravo Judith, bravo.

Gabby simply smiled again. “It’s a work in progress. I added the straps last year when I finally realized I was trapped here.

“Trapped?!” I retorted, concerned “You are aware that you aren’t forced to be here?”

“Oh, I know! Sorry I don’t mean I’m forced to be here. I’m one of the first who emerged. I considered leaving, I thought I was ready. But instead, I decided to stay to help the others. The majority of patients were mute, but I had a solution. I knew sign language because my aunt was deaf, and I started teaching it to the other patients and the staff. But there is a constant trickle of new people who need training, and the language has been evolving, so I stayed for a bit, then a bit longer. But last year I realized that I was lying to myself – I don’t want to leave, ever. I belong here. So, I asked for my purple trim to be removed and for my outfit to be locked on.”

“You can be locked in an outfit?” I replied, surprised. A wave of intense arousal swept over me, at the thought of myself being trapped in my outfit…

“Oh yes, many of my sisters do it too.” Said Gabby.

“I see” … yet another thing I needed more time to think about. I continued, “But, ah, we are getting off-topic. What will we be learning today?” I asked.

“Today’s class is intermediate level. The language we use is a modified version of Maritimes Sign Language, which itself is a dialect of ASL. Today’s topic is the butt,” she replied.

“The butt?!”

“Yes,” said Gabby. “This is why the language has evolved – we needed a greater vocabulary for certain topics – latex, bondage, orgasms… most languages are so limited when it comes to discussing these things. How can we express our feelings, our desires if the words don’t exist? So, every year I update the teaching manual to include the new signs that have been created.”

“I see… this is almost… scholarly work. I’m sure some linguists would be very interested in all this,” I replied. "Well maybe not the butt part... or perhaps especially the butt part!" I laughed weakly.

Gabby smiled, she started explaining she actually had been doing a masters on sign languages when she was captured, but our conversation was interrupted by other patients coming in – five in total, one of them was of the “new drone” type, based on their silver piping – did this mean she was close to emergence?

I just stood back as the class went on. It was a bit chaotic, but overall, it seemed productive. The four patients who weren’t drones asked a lot of questions, and a number of saucy jokes were made. Conversations were done in a mixture of spoken and sometimes written English and the sign language. Terminology for all the various shapes and sizes of butts was discussed, but also a lot of, ah, butt related topics – the term for various butt covering clothing, their effect on the shape of the butt, different butt-spanking techniques… There was no way I was going to remember all of this, but the students seemed eager to learn. The drone stayed silent, but from her intent body language it was obvious that she was paying very close attention to the class.

After the class ended, I spoke with Gabby again.

“Well, that was very interesting – you’re a pretty good instructor! But… well I can sign about butts now, but I still don’t have the basic language. And I’m not sure how much of this I will retain… is there a way to catch up?” I asked. I was hoping she had a manual or something I could read in the evenings.

“There is!” replied Gabby “The schedule of when patients are ready to start learning the sign language is not always predictable, but we want them to be able to use it as soon as possible, so they can communicate their needs to us. So, I’ve created these basic files a student can watch, and then listen to in their sleep.”

“Listening while sleeping, does that work? Is that safe?” I retorted.

“Oh yes – I mean, you’re going to dream about the sign language pretty often, but as long as it’s just for a few weeks it’s not the end of the world.” replied Gabby.

“A few weeks? You mean I could learn the Institute Sign Language in a couple of weeks?” I said, incredulous.

“Institute Sign language? I like that!” said Gabby, laughing. “I have to admit – I already thought of that name, but I felt it was… pompous of me to name the language so. But if you think it fits…”

She continued. “But to answer your question, if we push just a little bit, you could be fairly fluent in a month. Then we stop the intensive training, and you just learn the rest by talking to the sisters.” Seeing the disbelief on my face, she elaborated: “What we do is make you watch a few videos, so you learn the very basics and also learn how I describe the signs. You don’t have aphantasia do you?

I shook my head, “No, I can visualize objects and ideas in my mind pretty clearly.” I was impressed she had thought of that.

“Good!” she replied, “It makes it far easier. Once you understand my verbal descriptions well, then we switch to audio only, which we will do in your sleep. Because you’re now doing 8 hours a day, and because it’s being done via your subconscious, you’ll learn very quickly, especially by using a few basic hypnosis techniques on top.”

I felt… tempted. On one hand, the hypnosis aspect was… a bit scary. But if I could learn and use the patient’s sign language… Maybe I could understand the patients better. Have better conversations with River, for example. “Ok, so how do we begin?” I said, hesitantly.

“I’ll go prepare you a USB drive, you can do it at home. First watch the first video. Once you feel you understand how I verbally describe signs, and you can visualise them just based on a description, you can switch to the audio lessons. I recommend doing 2 lessons per night, played in a loop.” She explained.

“Ok, but what’s this bit about hypnosis?” I asked.

“It’s just a bit of focusing techniques so you retain the lessons better,” replied Gabby. “It’s not like controlling you or anything like that. Hypnosis only works with consent anyway.”

“Ok, I’ll pick that up from you later today, I should go talk to Dr Reed. I’ll see you tomorrow for class!”

 

A few minutes later I was knocking at Dr Reed’s door. “You wanted to see me?”

We shook hands and I sat down. The dark office… it seemed threatening, but now I wondered if the Dr was going for intimate? Dr Reed smiled at me “Ah, Inspector Johnson, I’m so happy to see how great a job Maker did on your outfit. I didn’t expect her to be so fast, she must have felt inspired!” she said. “So, how has it been working out for you?”

“Well…” I said, and hesitated.

“Is something wrong?” asked Dr Reed. “We can have the outfit changed, of course!”

“Oh, uh, it’s not the outfit, it’s great, it’s uh”. Dammit – I wanted to keep it cool, but I was having a hard time keeping my voice from trembling.

“Judith…” said Dr Reed.

“It’s the rubber, I think…” my voice lowered to a barely perceptible whisper “I think I like it too much.”

Dr Reed leaned toward me over the desk “So… it’s not the rubber itself that bothers you. It’s the fact that you like it that bothers you?” She asked in a neutral voice.

“I … I guess so yeah. And it keeps changing! When I’m wearing it I… ok there is the arousal, but there is also this weird sense of peace, of things being… ok. But when I’m home or in the city I feel… confused and ashamed.”

Dr Reed sat back “Judith, I could accuse you of self-directed intolerance, but I think that’s not fair and a bit simplistic. I’ve seen you with the patients Judith, I know you have a great deal of compassion. It’s what will make you a great inspector, I think. But I must ask you, why won’t you show that same kindness towards yourself?”

“But it’s not their fault!” I retorted. “This was done to them; they didn’t have a choice!”

“Ah, but did you have a choice? Really?” Dr Reed said simply.

I stood back, dumbfounded.

“First of all, you didn’t choose your fetish. No one really does. It just... happened to you. It’s not your fault latex does it for you. You didn’t have a choice did you?” she said firmly.

Huh. I had never looked at it that way…

Dr Reed pressed on. “But let’s look at your situation from a different angle. When you are here, you are very willing to wear latex. But when you aren’t here, it scares you, you don’t want to like it. So, it could be location, situation based.”

I furrowed my brow. “I don’t think so? I’m embarrassed to admit it but… I have to be honest; it really does something to me. I mean the rubber. It bothers me outside, but I still feel the urge. Heck, sometimes it suddenly feels like I’m still wearing it, like my skin… remembers.” That experience was… eery, and worrisome.

“Oh!” said Dr Reed. “That’s a sensory echo. It doesn’t happen to everyone, but it’s quite normal.” I was relieved by this information, but Dr Reed seemed deep in thought and continued “I know this is very cliché but… can I ask you a few quick questions about your childhood?”

“Uh, ok, but I will only answer if I like it,” I retorted. I wasn’t going to answer questions about my true feelings about my parents, or my first love or some other personal things like that.

Dr Reed simply nodded, and proceeded in a direction I didn’t expect – fairly basic questions about what kind of friends I had when I was younger, what music we listened to, my fashion style. I answered honestly – there was no shame or secrecy in my short-lived goth phase – and Taylor Swift is awesome damn it.

Dr Reed nodded again and said, “I think you’re a conformist.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. What was she talking about? Sure, I had to admit I didn’t like standing out but… I didn’t get what she was getting at.

“For whatever reason, you’ve learned, from a very young age, that to be safe, to be accepted, the best thing to do was to blend in, to conform. So, you liked whatever your friends liked, shared their fashion sense. New friends, new look, new music. You got a government job; you dressed like you imagined a government worker would dress.” I nodded, and she continued. “If we look at this precise moment, you are feeling great because not only are you a rubberist wearing rubber, you’re also conforming very well. I’m sure a number of patients reacted positively to your new outfit and that felt great, it affirmed you are doing the “correct” thing, that you are “blending in.” However, when you are outside, suddenly your identity here feels deviant, doesn’t conform, and this causes you anxiety.”

“I… uh… so I don’t have a choice, like you said,” I stammered.

“You don’t have a choice about liking rubber no… but regarding your tendency to conform, now that you are aware of your pattern of behavior, you can decide how you proceed, fully aware of the choices you are making, to conform willfully, or not. You can’t help being a rubberist, but you CAN decide how you dress, how you behave.” replied Dr Reed. She continued “Besides, it’s ok to have more than one side of yourself. And what’s appropriate is context dependent. It’s ok to wear a bikini at the beach, but less so at the mall, for example.”

There was a logic to what she was saying, but I still didn’t feel ok. “I… I’m going to have to think about this. But even if you are right, I don’t know if I can do the job. Being a conformist could help me adapt, but being a rubber fetishist is going to completely mess up my judgement,” I said back. “And the conformism will make me blind, in a year I’ll be just like Red, almost fully a patient. I’ll be an insider, unable to be objective. Hell, I think I’m uniquely unsuited for this job,” I said sadly.

“Nonsense!” Said Dr Reed “Richard was a rubberist too, did you know that? I shouldn’t be outing him, but I’m sure he would understand. Sure, your fetish might bias you, but you’re aware of this now. And the patients’ liking for latex won’t seem so… aberrant, or bizarre to you. You won’t judge them. You do know how few people ‘get’ it. How many officials, family members, wished that we ‘made’ them stop being so … different.”

I nodded as she continued. “Furthermore, now you can guide your own growth and evolution. Become who you want to be. You can’t be a patient, you’re the Inspector. You’re unique Judith. You say uniquely bad, I say you have unique potential. We need someone connected to the government and who’s willing to fight for us. But we also need another pair of eyes to show us what we aren’t doing right.”

“I don’t know…” I said, feeling somewhat defeated.

“You are Inspector Johnson, overseeing the Institute. There is no one else like you, *on Earth*! Make it your own,” said Dr Reed.

“I…” what was I thinking of earlier “I… I think I had an idea, earlier. What happens to the patients who leave the Institute?”

Dr Reed hesitated. “Ah, we, well once we are sure they are ready to go, that they have a plan, we let them go. That is our objective, after all, to have them rejoin society.”

“Is that enough?” I asked “Shouldn’t we be doing a follow-up? If they are doing well, it proves your method is working. And if some of them need more help, well… we try to assist them?”

“Huh” said Dr Reed. “Perhaps … no, you are right. This is something we should have been doing all along! But I don’t know if we have the resources…”

“I can do it. I can’t match Richard’s wall of technical jargon. But doing this follow up will make for good paperwork, I can show this to the bosses.”

I didn’t add that doing this would be a good story to tell Uncle Doug, it would buy me some time… and besides, if I did find a problem, maybe I could help fix it. And wasn’t that the real thing I should be doing here? Protect – not the Institute, not the government, but the patients themselves? And just because they weren’t here didn’t mean that they weren’t patients… The victims of the Baron needed my help. And I had to be strong for that. These self-doubts weren’t helping anyone.

Dr Reed chuckled a bit “I suppose you are right, and I suppose it has to be done. I’ll prepare you a binder with a sort of overview of each patient, and an office will be set for you so you can do some work here – you may decide to look up something in our records or consult someone.”

“Thank you, I think this will work,” I replied. Getting out of here to do “field work” would be good for me I thought. I shouldn’t spend all my time here; it would help my independence. “And thank you for the advice, I think that will help too”. I added. I got up, shook hands, and left feeling a little bit… better? I was going to have to think more about this, but at least I had some kind of path forward now.

I ran into Gabby, who brought me to her room and handed me the USB key – a cheap looking affair, but I supposed it would do.

“Just read the read-me file first, it will tell you what to do. And if it doesn’t work out, come see me tomorrow and we’ll figure it out. And you’ll see, you’ll be chatting with us in no time!” she explained, giving me finger guns. I laughed and thanked her.

I drove home, feeling an odd mixture of confusion and hope. Well at least I had something to do this evening, touching the USB key Gabby had given me.

Chapter 11: TGIF?

After getting home and making myself some grub, I watched the first sign language video file, which was mostly focused on learning how Gabby described the various elements of gestures that made a sign, using basic common words as examples. She was really clear – I didn’t know much about the subject, but it seemed like this method should be published or something, it could help a lot of people learn sign language easier.

I also studied the hypnotic notes she had mentioned – and it was just things to help me focus and memorize, it didn’t bother me at all, and I didn’t notice anything creepy or sinister about them. In fact, I might try them!

I decided to give the audio files a listen as I slept. I expected I might dream about the files, but instead I had a strange dream about the class last afternoon, except in this version there was a quiz where we had to identify various butt types by sight, then by touch. I literally had to grope other classmates blindfolded and guess what kind of butt said classmate had. And then they did it to me… I woke up from the dream aroused and frankly a little embarrassed by the silliness of it.

Before I headed to the Institute, I asked Margaret to forward me the emails from Red to my personal email address, so I could read them on my phone. It seemed I had no exercise class this morning (… maybe for the best?) and instead I should go check the new office that had been set up for me. She again asked me to go “use the dressers”, along with some instructions on how to do so. I wasn’t too sure if I was delighted about this, but it was another small step towards understanding the patients better.

I arrived at the institute, and after stripping in the small locker I grabbed the rubber lab coat and headed to the dressing room. I was almost halfway there before I realized that I was wearing nothing but socks and the lab coat – and with the sunlight beaming in, I was essentially naked from some angles. What was I doing?! But… did it matter? No, it mattered not at all. It didn’t! No one here would care. I squared my shoulders and marched down to the dressing room, signing hello to a few sisters I saw along the way, one who signed back “enjoy something something”. Huh. I had understood a *little* bit of it. Were the audio tapes working already?

I arrived in the dressing room, which was completely walled off and illuminated by a single lightbulb. There weren’t any other “clients” but me, it seemed I had missed the morning rush. The two dressers were waiting for me, with my outfit ready on a hanger.

They wore virtually identical outfits – dressed in black catsuits, no gloves, black hoods with microperforations – no facial features were really visible. On top they wore a white apron – everything was in latex of course. There was a complete absence of spikes, d-rings buckles, which I supposed made sense for their work. I also noted ankle booties with medium heels. Although their demeanor and looks were identical, they were quite easy to tell apart – Patient 81 was tall and thin while her counterpart, patient 47, was short and curvy. The two were inseparable.

I shrieked a bit when one suddenly turned off the light. They quickly turned it back on and tried to explain in a flurry of signs – I couldn’t understand it. Then patient 47 started writing a note – explaining that most patients preferred not seeing themselves naked and the dressing was done in the dark. However, if I preferred it could be done with the lights on. They forgot to ask and were very sorry.

I hesitated, then signed “dark”. It was a risk but… fuck it. If I couldn’t trust these two to dress me, how could I trust them to dress the other patients? It would be fine!

The experience was… interesting. They used slight touches to push me in the right positions. Their hands would quickly skim my limbs, just before sliding on a latex piece. They worked fast – it only took them a few minutes, and I’m sure that it would have been even faster if I hadn’t been a novice. Putting on the white knee-high boots afterward took me longer than the latex! The transition, from almost normal to almost total enclosure was breathtaking.

I looked at myself in the mirror, enjoying the sight of myself in my light blue/grey dress, gloves and hood. I adjusted the cape a little as they looked on – my nipples were really showing through the dress; the cape gave me a whiff of modesty at least. Hmmm… was something missing? I blushed a little… should I? How was the old saying, in for a penny in for a pound? … no, I would wait.

I thanked the two dressers, and they bowed to me. I waved at them and left – it was time to find that office Red had mentioned. A few inquiries later and I had found it. The journey there had been interesting – I decided to practice the basic sign language I had, and just being able to say hello to the patients and understand their responses (somewhat) really meant something – there were many patients before who didn’t speak, now this barrier was slowly being overcome. It made me feel more connected to the place. And it would help me in my interviews – it would take weeks, months even, but I intended to talk to every single patient in due time.

My new office was on the south wing, 3rd floor. Apparently back in the days, when the convent was operating, this room would have been for a senior nun. The long, narrow room had a bookcase, a modest cot and a dresser. On a desk, basic stationary had been left for me, as well as a large binder and an old laptop. I opened the dresser, curious, and was surprised when I found it was partially filled with latex clothing. It must have been meant for me, as I saw a copy of my outfit. But the rest was more… basic – basic black catsuit, leggings, top, dress, a few variants of a black hood and – oh wow, a full catsuit made of thin transparent latex. I took it out of the dresser and held it at arm length, in the light of the sun. The pattern was complex, and the suit formed a lithe latex form in almost glass-like latex… that was for me? Oh, that was naughty… but I knew I wanted to try it one day. But enough distraction, I was here to work!

I put the catsuit back in the dresser, still blushing, went to the desk and opened the binder, and saw it contained a series of files, one for each patient. This must be what Dr Reed had promised me. I picked a file at random and began reading.

Patient 115.

The file told me her real name, their “sister name” (none so far), if she had family/friends, their disposition (supportive but distant… oh and she was Spider’s sister!), when she was captured (2014 – so about three years before the place was exposed), her outfit (black latex maid outfit with silver piping, hood with micro perforation, face fully hidden). A few weeks ago, I would have thought it would be silly to describe a patient’s outfit in the file, but I understood now. The file also detailed her progress (slow but steady, now at the “new drone” stage with emergence predicted to occur within a year), as well as basic appearance (5’6”, 140 pounds, originally blonde but all hair had been removed following capture).

This sounded vaguely familiar – yes, it matched one of the students in Gabby’s class. I really appreciated the work that must have gone into this binder – within a few minutes, I could learn the basics about any patients, yet more personal details – like therapy notes, which I really shouldn’t be looking at – were missing.

But my idea for a research project didn’t involve the patients still at the Institute. Instead, I wanted to learn what had happened to the patients who were no longer here. And why not start … big? Patient 127. The brave and foolhardy journalist who had exposed what was going on here. Maybe she could help me understand what happened a bit better?

Let’s see… 124… aha! Patient 127

Patty McBolands, captured 2017 (duration less than one month). Less than one month… A few weeks sounded bad enough to me! A lot of details were missing – family, physical details, outfit (not surprising) and for her progress it only stated “Outside, never treated”.

Huh. I fired up the old laptop that came with the office – it seemed I was connected to the exterior facing network. I started writing a sort of research proposal – what the problem was, what I was trying to achieve. I then opened a second file called “127” where I added details I could find about Patty McBolands. She got a lot of credits for her daring feat, seen as a hero (if reckless) but her journalist career never seemed to take off after that. I would have imagined that such a dramatic journalistic coup – exposing what was going on in this building, hints of official corruption, freeing over a hundred women - would have landed her a job at the CBC or something, but nope. She still did some freelance reporting in local outlets, with the occasional web article at CTV or CBC news, but that seemed about it. I saw she also had a medium-ish Instagram following, along with a side gig as a social media consultant.

I emailed my proposal to my director general, and CCed Margaret. Margaret replied to me quickly, stating I should have asked for her help but that it was a pretty good “off the cuff” attempt. I thanked her despite being a bit annoyed at her snippy comment, but she was right – she was there to help me, I should take advantage of it. I also asked her how much time these things took to get approved. She replied that if I hadn’t heard anything by January I should ask again.

January! It would take three months?! That was just ridiculous. But… I supposed from my boss’ perspective this was a very risky move. But there was risk in waiting, in long delays. And besides… I re-read the email I had sent, and yup, technically I had never “asked permission”. I instead had told the DG what I was going to do. Oops. If they didn’t like it, well they should get off their asses and tell me to stop. What were they going to do, fire me? No one wanted the job!

So yeah, full steam ahead! How was I supposed to know any better, I hadn’t received any training. So there. I then spent the rest of the morning composing the “perfect” email to send to Patty, asking for a meeting. I hoped that my impressive title would entice the journalist in her in accepting the request out of curiosity.

In Washington

Author’s note to the reader: This story starts in the fall of 2024, and was conceived of more than a year ago. At that time, I didn’t envisage … whatever is going on in the USA at the time of reading. So, let’s pretend the USA is its “normal self”.

Renee looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a formal military uniform, with insignia of ranks and several medals. The uniform was fully authentic looking, if one ignored the small detail that it was made of latex. Maker had done a remarkable job. It could have been tighter, more form fitting, even sexier, but that wasn’t how a real uniform looked, and authenticity was important. The medals were real – she had earned them; she was going to wear them.

A man in his 50s, with salt and pepper hair and a short sleeved checkered shirt said, “Are you sure this is a good idea, Major?”

Renee looked at her colleague, with his long arms covered in dark coarse hair and his thick glasses. “It’s ok Gilford. They wanted a demonstration; we’re giving them one. It’s on them”.

Gilford was an analyst, who had been reviewing the data Renee was collecting at the Institute. This wasn’t their first project working together and they knew it sometimes took a bit of a song and dance to get things done.

“Well, if anyone can pull it off, it’s you – you look...” Gilford cleared his throat, then frowned. “I don’t like what I’ve been hearing. The new vice president has a nosey lackey, one that’s been really sniffing around the intelligence circles. She has clearance and she asks inconvenient questions. Senator Williams. She’s going to be here, and she isn’t the kind of person you can brush off.”

Renee shrugged – it was too late to change course now. But she valued his advice – despite his nerdish ways, he had a way of reading the leaves, of keeping his ear to the ground. “Who else is going to be there?” she asked.

Gilford said “Oh the usual. General Grum and the other torture porn aficionados.” Both Renee and Gilford were convinced that half the meeting attendees were more there to hear stories about crazy bondage than for real intelligence purposes… but they had their uses. He continued “The bean counters as always. Oh, and Strad will be there too.”

Strad was a bit of a boogeyman in the intelligence community. He *knew* things, was always 4 steps ahead of everyone else. He could be a great ally or destroy an entire project with a frown. If he was there… That was serious.

Renee shrugged again. “Thanks for the warning. We just have to hope for the best now. Let’s head to the meeting.”.

At the Institute

I headed to the sign language class. I had spent the last 2 hours doing inventory for Red – talk about tedious, but wow where there a lot of things to track off. Rolls of latex in all sorts of colors and thickness, various tools, glues, thinners and polishes for crafting latex. Medications of various kinds, the ingredients to make the Nutrition Fluid, ordinary food for the small cafeteria, magnetic tape for the hypnosis system, corsets, toilet paper, heels, pillows. One of the most intriguing thing had been the “blue substance” – that mysterious skin lotion that allowed a few patients to *almost* stay in latex 24/7. No one knew where the Baron got it, or how to duplicate it, so only those few patients who were still fully “cube dependent” got to use it. It was so precious that the empty bottles were kept, in case the residue could be used somehow one day. I was looking forward to Renee’s return and no longer have to do this work. But for now, language class!

Once again, Gabby was there greeting the participants. She asked if I had listened to the file, I signed “yes, I did” and she smiled. I later learned that I actually had signed “yes, me doing”, close enough I suppose.

I noted once again how she was locked in her outfit, locked straps trapping her in her catsuit and hood. I… I really was tempted to do the same, I almost had dared ask the dressers for it today. Nothing so elaborate, perhaps a simple collar or belt with a small lock. It was the *idea* of it, of being locked in latex… I blinked, and tried focusing on the class again. I saw the silver-piped drone again – and yes, it was patient 115! I waved at her, and after a long pause, she hesitantly signed hello. Gabby noticed and smiled broadly.

We were about to begin when a late-comer arrived. She was quite tall – although if she hadn’t been wearing those ballet boots, she probably would have been about my height. I didn’t recognize her; she hadn’t been in the class yesterday. Her outfit was quite severe. She was wearing a heavy, strict rubber corset that was linked with straps to a second “neck and shoulder” corset that covered the bottom of her face – she had to stand rod-straight, as she couldn’t bend neither her waist nor neck. Underneath she wore a black catsuit, showing off her slender but well toned form – a former athlete perhaps? The outfit didn’t seem locked on, but it didn’t need to be – her arms were bound so severely behind her back I couldn’t even see them. Once that outfit was on, she was at the mercy of the others for getting out. Once again, the idea seemed so… appealing. I didn’t know *why* it was hot, but I understood why a number of patients did it.

“I’m sorry for being late Gabby – I missed this lesson last time around and I thought I would take it today, I hope you don’t mind?” she said – her voice was muffled a bit by the neck corset, but she was quite understandable. I couldn’t quite place her accent, but I got the impression she must have had a pretty formal education. Her tone gave no indication that she was in any sort of distress, besides her slight lateness that is.

“Oh no I don’t mind at all Elizabeth, come in!” replied Gabby.

She sat behind me, and, to my surprise, no one seemed to be inclined to untie her arms – how was she going to sign?

The class began. Yesterday the topic had been butts. Today, we were talking about different kinds of buckles, D-rings, O rings, and similar things. Thankfully, Gabby had examples, and I was once again impressed by how clear and articulate she was at describing the various signs and gestures. This, with the elementary sign language I had started picking up, made the class quite informative.

I added to my note “Ask Margaret re: publishing Gabby Method” – she would know more about this than I did or at least know whom to ask. I really thought Gabby’s methods needed spreading, but if it was too attached to the Institute, it might not be taken seriously… difficult that one.

Once in a while, Elizabeth would interject with a question or commentary. Apparently the “meaning” of some of the metal furniture – what it said about the wearer – was in a bit of dispute. Elizabeth didn’t like that D-ring implied a desire for them to be used… but then concluded that if this was the case, it wouldn’t take long for Maker to change the rings on her outfit from D to O-rings. I was struck again on how important the patients seemed to consider their outfits – did every detail have meaning? I didn’t quite understand the nuances – Elizabeth’s outfit was quite severe already, did the shape of the rings really matter? Apparently, it did!

Once the class ended, Elizabeth asked me to walk with her; she wanted to get to know me better. As she got up and turned around, I got to see her back. My first impression was that the symmetry was nice – the lacing from her neck corset, waist corset and short latex skirt formed a neat straight line from the top of her skull to just beneath her ass. I then gasped loudly and blurted out “where are your arms?!”

I had assumed her arms had been bound tightly behind her. But she didn’t have any! I then began apologizing profusely for pointing out her disability – that was so rude of me, I wanted to meld into the wall!

She turned to me – I couldn’t see her mouth, but her eyes were quite expressive, and I could tell she wasn’t upset. “It’s ok, the Institute is full of, ah, surprises. I’m sure I’m not the strangest patient you will meet.”

“So, uh… what did you want to talk about?” I asked, grasping at the occasion to change the topic. I was NOT bringing up the arms again.

“Well, I could tell you I am curious about the new inspector,” she began, “But it’s a bit more than that. I gather you’ve met Alexandra?”

“Uh, y-yes?” I replied. Alexandra was a patient, a blue latex ballerina. I had attended her aerobics class, and she had given me the most… erotic… look, so intense I had almost fainted on the spot. “She, uh, mentioned me?”

“Oh yes, the cutest inspector that has ever been or ever will be, I think is how she put it?” I blushed furiously as Elizabeth continued. “I can now see why she was so enthused. But still, I am not one to judge a book by its cover.”

“I, uh, see” – not seeing at all what this was about - “and uh, you’re simply curious?”

She gave me an appraising look. I could tell that even though only the upper portion of her face was visible, with dark blonde hair tied in a bun and heavy lidded, seductive eye, she must have been quite the looker herself. I suddenly wondered if she was exaggerating. Surely Alexandra didn’t find me *that* attractive… but still, that look she had given me…

After an awkward pause, she replied “Yes, I am curious. But it is not idle curiosity. I’m concerned by the welfare of Alexandra, and I wanted to see what kind of person had caught her eye.”

I looked at her, perplexed. “I’m not quite sure where this is going? Why do you care so much?” Why the heck did she think it was her business?

Elizabeth looked a bit sad. “It is because Alexandra blames herself for my condition. Unfairly I might add, it wasn’t her fault at all. It is only right that I look out for her.”

“Why would she blame herself?” I retorted. This conversation was getting stranger by the minute.

“It’s... complicated,” she replied. I gave her a hard look, and she continued. “So, the Baron, after a while, started grabbing specific victims for specific purposes. You’ve met Maker, based on your fetching outfit, for example.”

I blushed again. We were walking down a hall – where were we going? – with the slow clacks of Elizabeth’s long, languid pace, seemingly unhindered by her ballet heel boots. My stride was a bit faster, as the latex dress I wore only allowed a medium step at most. With each pace the dress briefly moulded my ass and legs, and I had to admit the feeling wasn’t unpleasant… but … I was giving a bit of a show, wasn’t I? I blushed even deeper, but thankfully she continued.

“Alexandra was kidnapped based on her appearance and dancing skills. It seems the Baron was fond of the ballet. Unlike most of the patients who crouched in a relatively small cube, Alexandra was suspended in a tall cylinder of clear gel, in a forever pirouette through the “air”. It really was quite striking, I’ve seen it.”

“But after a few years this proved insufficient I suppose. So he had *me* kidnapped – I was a bit of a rising star in the ballet world. But I wasn’t turned into a living statue trapped in gel. Instead, he turned me into a kind of ‘ballet drone’. I’ve been wearing something like my current outfit for over 2 decades now.”

I hadn’t any reply to that – and the “matter of fact” way she said it…

“So, I was completely brainwashed and obedient. I pranced around all day long. Sometimes he fucked me repeatedly, sometimes I didn’t see him for weeks – but I was still compelled to dance. It made me happy – it still does to be honest – so it wasn’t too bad a life, if a very… repetitive one.”

“That’s… I don’t even know what to say” I replied… “but why does Alexandra blame herself?”

Elizabeth sighed and continued: “Last year, Dr Reed found a cache of records. It turns out that the Baron *did* try to turn Alexandra into a ballerina drone. But it didn’t work – there is something about how her mind is wired that made her unsuitable. So, he put her back as a “display”; and kidnapped me instead. So, you see, Alexandra blames herself for “failing” to become a ballerina drone. If she hadn’t resisted, or whatever it was, I would have remained free and lived a normal life, instead of becoming this and losing my arms.”.

“Is the Baron responsible for that?” I gasped.

“Yes. After a while he started having my arms bound permanently behind my back. Then – I don’t know if it’s because they fell ill due to poor circulation, or he just liked the look, he had them removed entirely. This is why I resent him so much. He made sure I was content and overflowing with pleasure, but my arms… I can’t regain. There was no need, it’s his fault. And by having me wear these boots for years, my feet’s bones have partially fused. There are people out there without arms who become very dextrous with their feet and toes, but that option is also lost to me. And I can’t sign to the others, I must speak. This is a problem for the few patients who can’t hear…”

I realized that Elizabeth had a lot more information about the Baron than most other patients. I wasn’t sure if I should, but I couldn’t resist asking. “So, the Baron, what was he like?”

“A black void,” she answered, “I know he’s a human being of course, but I was hypnotized in such a way that remembering him is almost impossible. I can’t picture him in my mind, it’s just a black… shape. But I remember when he grabbed me from behind and entered me… a large, strong man. He was very concerned about my pleasure, but in a very controlling, artificial way. He conditioned me to orgasm on command. He would just grab me, tell me to come and then I would orgasm uncontrollably while he fucked me. Sometimes he forgot to tell me to stop, and I would spend an entire afternoon bent over a table or something, orgasming nonstop until I collapsed.”

As I gaped, she continued.

“It’s the same with Maker and A Doctor – they remember an imposing man, a commanding voice, but… visually, it’s a black blot. Of course, he didn’t fuck them, they were captured because they were useful! I was the toy, dancing whenever ordered, coming whenever ordered… Dr Reed has tried to remove that for years now, but to this day, whenever someone tells me to come, I come.”

“Someone… anyone?!” I covered my mouth with my hand in shock – a useless gesture, I’m wearing a hood – “surely you don’t mean…”

Elizabeth chuckled. “Yup – Dr Reed, another patient, the postman… even you!” As I sputtered, she pressed on: “Come on, do it, it’s kind of neat. You must be curious,” as I kept failing to reply she added in a fake sultry tone “You know you want to.”

I wanted to implode like a neutron star. Elizabeth stared at me intently, and I looked back. I could see she *wanted* me to do it, she was *daring* me to do it. She was challenging me to get involved.

I swallowed loudly and then said it, in a tiny, tiny voice.

“Come.”

The moment I said that she took a long, deep breath, and spread her legs a little bit, as if to gain some stability. She closed her eyes and… started shuddering. Her eyes fluttered, and she started emitting a low moan. And it didn’t stop. It just kept going and going…

It didn’t seem like a very strong orgasm. Maybe she would have needed foreplay, or some physical stimulation, or mental even, for it to be stronger? Or was it kept at a low intensity for endurance purposes? I remembered my experience at the dance last Saturday, how *intense* it had been and blushed deeply – that had taken out a lot out of me.

Oh my god what am I doing?! She couldn’t stop! “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! Uh, it’s ok, uh, you can stop now! It’s good, thank you.”

She took a few deep breaths as she calmed herself then chuckled “aww, so soon?” Seeing me take a step back she added “No no, it’s ok. I shouldn’t tease. We patients see pleasure differently than the norm I suppose. I don’t have much to look forward to but these little games.”

“But you are going to get out of here one day, that’s something right? I can see that Dr Reed has helped many make significant progress” I retorted, somewhat concerned by her flippant defeatism.

“You know I’m one of the first patients Dr Reed got through to, to emerge? The police hoped I had clues, and unlike the drones I wasn’t very useful just dancing around, so I guess I was a sort of priority. I was even on the list to leave the institute… but the more research I did into what I could do once I got out, the more I felt that the best thing for me was just to stay here. No school would hire me with my “traumatic” background, I couldn’t find any paying dancing gig… amateur theater sure, but there is no money in that ha! So instead, I removed the purple piping, left the Launchers and chose to remain.”

Huh. That was the second patient who had decided to stay… Gabby because she felt it was her mission, and Elizabeth because she feared the outside world wouldn’t support her… Were there more? I was going to have to research this, this could be a real problem. What if the majority of the patients decided not to leave?

Elizabeth broke the silence again. “We’re getting off track. The reason I wanted to get to know you is because of Alexandra. Alexandra blames herself for my condition now, and she’s been devoting way too much time fussing over me. There are plenty of sisters who are willing to fetch things for me and assist me throughout the day, so there is no need, moral or practical, for Alexandra to punish herself that way. I’m hoping that if you can get to know her better and spend some time with her, it would do her some good”.

“That is very kind of you to look out for your friend like that” I replied “but, uh, I don’t think that I should… uh…. date… a patient though” I added, trying to remain professional.

Elizabeth laughed. “Oh no Judith, I’m not asking you to be her girlfriend! Just a friend.” I blushed beet red as she added “Although… she is a *spectacular* lover, you really should reconsider.”

As I essentially began dying on the spot, Elizabeth continued “So, ah, Inspector, it was a delight making your acquaintance. I shall not be taking more of your time, I’m sure our little conversation was as interesting to you as it was to me.” And with a laugh, she pirouetted away.

I… I think I was done for the day. I returned to the dressers – the removal of latex was as interesting as putting it on - got dressed in my civilian clothes again and headed out in my old car – I had a lot of thinking to do. What a week!

In Washington

A grey man in a captain’s uniform addressed the table – almost 20 people were present around a large table, in some basement in a nondescript building near the Pentagon. To the left were the new Senator on a crusade and her 3 assistants. To the right, General Grum and the other army brass. To the back, the intel people. A few bean counters sprinkled through. The man cleared his throat and said “Uh, up next we have the report from Major Bailey concerning the OL Mega project follow through phase.”

“OL Mega?!” interrupted the Senator. “That project was ordered to be canceled by the select intelligence committee 7 years ago!”

General Grum answered calmly. “Senator Williams, the project *was* canceled. This is merely a monitoring of the aftermath – with a light touch, we have kept this from blowing back in our faces; and are still collecting valuable intelligence.”

Senator Wiliams shot back “Why do you care? That’s spook stuff, it’s not Army.”

General Grum answered in the same tone “Perhaps, but the people who get captured and brainwashed are usually regular army grunts, not spies. We are keenly interested in the deprogramming advances the, ah, Institute has achieved. Why don’t we let Major Bailey explain?

Renee took this as her cue to step into the room. It wasn’t going well. “Good afternoon, everyone, I am Major Bailey with the annual report.”

Senator Williams exclaimed “What is this a joke?!”

Strad from the back interjected “Senator, it will all be explained in due time. Major Bailey is a decorated officer with many years of experience, and I am sure she will be able to explain herself to your satisfaction.”

Renee nodded in his direction. Was he looking for a favor? He rarely helped without cause… “Yes, so I suppose that I better start by explaining the uniform. As per my written brief,” she paused a mere moment, to perhaps put the Senator on the backfoot a touch, “last year the Senator’s esteemed predecessor expressed concern about the, ah, sexual nature of some of the programming, and wanted to know if a more, ah, chaste route could be found. I agreed to undergo a hypnosis that did not rely on any type of sexual inducement or stimulation. There also remained significant skepticism by some committee members.”

We therefore devised this demonstration. During the last year, I have been hypnotized to become latex dependent. It is not a sexual need, merely a compulsion. The reasons we chose this were too-fold. First it fits well with my cover story. Second, I know very well that despite the explanation I am giving you at this very moment, a number of you are judging me negatively. This is, in other words, a terrible career move. I felt that I needed to take such a drastic measure to convince the committee members who have expressed some… skepticism as to the efficacy of the methods, and I hope you forgive me for the theatrics. General Grum, I assure you that no disrespect to the uniform was intended”.

General Grum replied, “None at all, in fact that is quite the compliment to the uniform” and chuckled, perhaps a little bit too long. Renee had to admit that he wasn’t as bad as he had been 7 years ago but… there was a ways to go yet.

Strad interrupted “So how did you make this, ah, compulsion stick?”

Renee looked at him again. “Excellent question sir. Essentially, all that was needed was the desire for this to work. Any motivation can work if it’s strong enough, the link to actual programming doesn’t need to be very substantial.”

Strad replied, “So what you are saying is that your hypnosis was effective because you wanted it to work.”

Renee replied, “it’s more complicated than that, but essentially yes”. She turned to the Senator “I hope this addresses your concerns regarding my uniform?”

Senator Williams barked back “Surely this is a waste of taxpayer money!” but one of the bean counters shot back “Actually, this is probably one of the cheapest intelligence operations the US government is currently running. The annual budget is well under half a million. Also, we are mitigating significant potential liabilities.” Renee didn’t know who he was, but she shot him a glorious smile.

General Grum simply stated, “the Committee recognizes the sacrifices Major Bailey has done for her country, Agreed?” There were nods and murmurs of agreement from around the room. The Senator looked around, frowned… but nodded slightly. She clearly wasn’t quite pleased, but it was sufficient. Renee continued with her briefing. There wasn’t that much new to share, appeasing the Senator was the main goal – that and convincing the rest of the committee that the Institute’s methods worked.

But towards the end of the 30-minute briefing, Strad asked another question. “I have heard that a new Inspector from the Federal Ministry of Health has been appointed. Is this going to be an issue?”

“Do not worry, sir,” Renee replied. “She is being handled.”