Coming Home
Cathenne brought this place recently, changed her phone number, email address, and closed her social media accounts to get away from the men hassling her to come to this and that event, even calling, texting, and knocking on the door after midnight. Cathenne had enough of dating and men, especially the ones who told her how good-looking she was and how fantastic they were in bed and how great she would look on their arm. For the most part, they weren’t good looking, and the sexual satisfaction was flaccid and boring at best, predictable at worst, and flat.
Returning from her Friday Kung Fu class, Cathenne walked past her neighbor, an overdressed mousy girl fumbling with a large ring of keys. Cathenne politely wished her a good evening, went to her apartment door, unlocked it, and went inside. Turning on the coffee machine, Cathenne did not recall ever noticing the girl next door. There was never any sound from the apartment, and she had no visitors, which was good.
Cathenne had a solid half-hour kung fu sparring session and was sticky over under her latex catsuit and black Lycra catsuit. She unpacked her office clothing from her gym bag and hung it up to air, then undressed her uniform, including her black sash with two gold stripes. She undressed Lycra, then set the shower to as hot as possible. When the bathroom was full of steam, Cathenne regulated it down to below scolding and backed in, still in her latex catsuit. She loved this part! Relaxing her aching muscles, Cathenne let the water flow over her rubber suit.
First, she washed her masses of red hair which needed almost a half a bottle of shampoo and then she rinsed and worked in the conditioner. She waited a few minutes, then rinsed the conditioner out too. Sigh, it was time to take off the gloved and footed latex catsuit. Cathenne drew the turtleneck entry open and let the shower water flow into the suit.
It partially filled with water and with the warmed rubber, Cathenne easily stretched open the rubber turtleneck until it was large enough to slip it down one shoulder, then remove the arms from the sleeve before she slipped the neck entry down her other shoulder. Her shoulders and hips were solid from years of athletics, ice skating, ballet, and kung fu. Unfortunately, her breasts were also large when not squashed by her Latex catsuit. Once out of the suit, Cathenne turned it inside out and let it hang in the shower while she washed everything. Cathenne took a large white towel and toweled her hair, then wrapped it in a turban. She took a second towel and dried thoroughly, ready for a fresh latex catsuit.
In the bedroom, Cathenne chose the blood red latex catsuit with feet and gloves. She quickly applied Glide to her body, especially hips, shoulders, and arms. It was an effort stretching the turtleneck open even if her catsuits were in a warming wardrobe to make dressing into them easier. Once she had, and worked out air pockets, Cathenne slipped into her black one-piece 50s style loose silk jumpsuit, which did not cling to the rubber.
For the blood red latex catsuit, Cathenne drew over her favorite blood-red silk nightgown and closed it with the matching belt. Cathenne had a bit of a thing for wedged heels, so she slipped into black ankle boots with red soles and laces. It was time to dry her hair. For the umptieth time, Cathenne considered a pixie cut just to save all the time she spent on her hair.
Once her hair was dry, Cathenne drew over a black bonnet which her mother liked her in. She walked about her thick carpeted floor, enjoying the feel of the silk against her rubber skin and the swish sounds of the two materials. In some ways, it was more enjoyable than sex.
Her last fling, Hubert, became her latest stalker, which caused Cathenne to go over the edge and had her quit her modeling job. She moved far away into this secure building, hoping Hubert will fixate on someone else. Since it got out on social media that it was her lips on the DoMNnix Purple Lipstick, the nut jobs came out of the woodwork. Well, the royalties will keep coming with the massive success of the product and paid for this apparent with a bit left over.
The jingle of keys startled Cathenne. It came from next door.
The Jingle of Keys
It came from outside. Could it be? Cathenne dressed in her long black coat and drew on stretch leather gloves to go outside and have a look. Yes, it was the girl next door, still fiddling with her keys. Why didn’t she take off those winter mittens for Buddha’s sake?
Cathenne ensured that she did not lock herself out, then stepped out to the girl, who appeared frustrated and perspired. No wonder! She was heavily dressed as if she expected a cold snap like in the movie, the Day After.
Cathenne offered, “Can I help you, miss?”
The slender flush faced girl startled, turned, and stammered, “No, no, sorry, no, thank you. I, I, have to do this, this, alone. Sorry to, to bother you, miss, sorry,” and continued to sort her large bundle of keys with her thick leather mittened hand. She really looked like she expected global cooling to set in at any moment, starting at her doorstep. She even had her nose and mouth covered, but perhaps she was susceptible to colds and even Covid. Cathenne shrugged, turned, but caught the young woman’s almost pleading look when she dropped the keys again.
Cathenne squatted, picked up the keys, and offered, “Perhaps if you remove those heavy mittens, miss, it would be easier. I can help you if you like.” The young woman reeled back from Cathenne as if she suggested she kick the door down instead. Even a police raid squad would not get through the reinforced metal doors made to look like plain wooden doors. It was a secured building, guaranteed to keep the crazies.
Cathenne handed the keys to the girl and wanted to leave but the young woman with the huge brow, almost Alita style eyes had problems breathing. Her eyes would not meet Cathenne’s as if she could not look other people in the eye. Well, for some cultures, it was impolite to stare. Cathenne sorted through the mass of keys until she found the four-sided for the seven penthouse apartments. She unlocked the door, opened it, helped the slight girl up, and returned her keys.
The young woman stuttered, “Thank you, you, miss. I am sorry, sorry to have bothered you. I was meant to return home at lunchtime, but my boss at the store kept me back for stocktaking, and, and, well, it is eight hours later than I planned, and, well, thank you.”
Cathenne did not really like hesitant, insecure ditties, but understood how many women were apprehensive of strangers. She extended her hand and offered, “Hi. I am Cathenne, your neighbor, and it is my pleasure to help you, miss.”
The young lady, shorter than Cathenne despite wearing toe boots, hesitantly extended her mittened hand and replied, “I am Mouna Lisa Kaspersky but I hate that name. Everyone calls me Mouse.” As she spoke, she glanced up at Cathenne’s face and gasped and immediately looked at the floor as if it never happened. She had lovely, huge brown doe eyes that spoke more than her words.
Mouse kept holding Cathenne’s hand for a while before apologizing, “I am sorry, sorry. How very rude of me! I just couldn’t help noticing your lips. They are so beautiful. Mine are only two thin lines. Oh, sorry, I am babbling. Thank you, thank you.” Mouse confused and intrigued Cathenne in a strangely awkward way.
Cathenne smiled, curtseyed, and spoke, “Mademoiselle Mouna Lisa Kaspersky, the Mouse, it is my pleasure.” This had the exact opposite effect to what Cathenne expected. The girl dropped her keys, rushed inside, and closed the door. What a strange creature and strange behavior!
Cathenne knocked, but that was no use with the solid metal doors. She rang the doorbell and, and, nothing. Mouse did not answer. Cathenne could not leave the keys out here, so she opened the door and called in, “Mouse, I will leave your keys on the coat stand’s table.” No answer.
Cathenne went inside the apartment, much the same as hers although decorated as if for a teenage girl with pinks, many pillows, and a daybed, in which Mouse lay. With her eyes closed she was breathing hard. She looked exhausted, and in the warm apartment, with all her clothing layers, she must be overheating or even having a stroke. It was none of Cathenne’s business but Cathenne could not abandon the girl. Sigh.
Cathenne rushed to the girl to check her pulse. Oh-my-Buddha, she was thickly clothed. Cathenne tried to remove the mittens to check her pulse, but they were super tight-fitted and did not budge. She unbuttoned the heavy coat under which Mouse wore a long-gray-knitted dress, wide at the bottom and tailored at the top, showing off an unnaturally narrow waist under a gray cardigan. Cathenne had a good waist too and with her large breast, many men believed she needed a good fuck. Back to the task at hand.
Cathenne removed Mouse’s coat and hung it on the coat stand. She returned and arranged Mouse comfortably on the daybed. Lifting her thickly stockinged legs in long laced wedged toe boots, she noticed how tiny Mouse would be without the ballet boots. Cathenne understood. Her first heeled boots were transformative for her, and she wore nothing else, not even in summer.
Cathenne arranged Mouse’s skirt to cover her legs evenly, then placed her head on a pillow. She unfolded a blanket and was about to cover Mouse, but no. Mouse was already well layered, and she even felt hot in her apartment. Cathenne’s temples were wet with perspiration. Cathenne refolded the blanket when her heart missed a beat. Two large brown eyes looked at her as if Cathenne held a knife in her hand about to stab Mouse.
Cathenne froze and rapidly explained, “I am sorry. I do not mean to intrude. You left your keys outside. When you did not answer, I came in, and well, you looked exhausted. I did not want to uncover your face, so I helped you out of your coat. Stupidly, I automatically wanted to put the blanket over you for warmth, sorry.”
Cathenne finished refolding the blanket and was about to put it back down when Mouse spoke, “Yes, please.”
Surprised, Cathenne turned and looked into those big brown eyes, which looked longingly back at her, not afraid. As the oldest with three younger brothers, Cathenne had to look after her brothers when her parents traveled abroad. She unfolded the blanket and gently covered Mouse, then automatically tucked her in.
She had done that so often that she almost gave her neighbor a good-night kiss on the forehead too, but Mouse was in exhausted sleep. Cathenne tippy-toed out and was about to close the door when she grabbed the keys. She could not say why.
Thump
Back in her apartment, Cathenne locked the door, removed her coat, and opened the bottle of red to let it breathe. She went to the bathroom, brushed her hair again, drew over the catsuit’s hood, then put the bonnet back on. She brushed and flossed her teeth. Back into the open space living room, Cathenne grabbed her favorite dark red coloured wine glass, so wrong for wine, or so everyone and Herbert told her. She poured herself a drink and sipped while she looked at her couch. The idea of a daybed instead was quite enticing. She was about to sit and enjoy the red when two huge brown eyes flashed into her mind. Cathenne wondered if Mouse was all right.
So, what plans for the weekend? Go for a run in the morning, then perhaps a long session in the sauna. It had been ages since she could go, with the attention from the social media reveal, and she always felt so much better for it.
‘Thump.” That came from next door.
Cathenne got up, finished the glass, and walked to her neighbor. The door was still unlocked, so she went in. Brûle en l’enfer! She forgot to unlock her door and was locked out. She will have to go downstairs to the night concierge and ask for the spare key.
Mouse was on the floor, panting, merde. Cathenne rushed to her. Her glazed eyes did not react to Cathenne, her skin was cold, pale, and clammy, and she was perspiring heavily. The foolish girl had layered too much and was now close to a heat stroke.
Cathenne sat Mouse up and lifted her onto the daybed. Leaning her against the rest, Cathenne unzipped her cardigan and took it off. She wanted to remove mittens but they were long shafted and under the gray dress's sleeves.
Cathenne unzipped the back of the heavy gown and peeled it off Mouse. C’est des conneries, she wore a woolen catsuit with a balaclava hood, only leaving the eyes-free. No wonder she was overheating. How long had she been wearing that?
Cathenne wanted to unzip the back of the thick woolen catsuit, but the choker around Mouse’s throat was tangled in the catsuit zipper. When Cathenne tried to remove the choker, she saw it was locked and the chain ran through the zippers' pull tab. Who did this to the poor girl? Cathenne sought to remove the balaclava through the eye-opening, but the opening did not widen. Cathenne lifted Mouse into her arms and took her into the bedchamber.
It was entirely different from the living room. Someone was forcing Mouse to be a heat stressed rubber doll. She was a sub and her dom had the key to the choker. Cathenne examined Mouse through the eye holes and yes, she wore a rubber catsuit, no two, great buddha, three!
Cathenne understood the relationship between dominant and submissive as she had an ambiguous relationship with a violet-eyed Hindu Goddess named Arunah. She had initially forced Cathenne into rubber when they were thirteen, but this stuck.
Short of cutting Mouse out of her clothing, which will cause her problems with whoever was doing this to her, she can do nothing. But she could. It was also hot in the bedchamber, but there was a flower-pot-sized balcony.
Mouse had a Hannibal Lecter style wheelchair standing in front of the powder desk. Cathenne put Mouse into the wheelchair and wheeled her over to balconies double doors. When she opened them, cool air streamed in and Cathenne sighed in relief.
Cathenne checked Mouse who breathed shallowly but regularly. She was still flushed and Cathenne could feel her heart pounding but not overly so. She was about to walk away, but Mouse drooped forward. Cathenne found a rubber strap that tightly fitted around Mouse’s chest but that would further inhibit Mouse’s breathing. An equally tight strap went around her tiny waist, by the feel, constricted by a hard and harsh boned corset. But her head and upper body still slouched forward. There was another strap attached to the headrest, which was not as tight and will prevent Mouse from slouching or her head falling forward. Mouse needed water.
Returning from the kitchenette, Cathenne brought a glass filled with cool water and two wet cloths. She placed the one on the back of Mouse’s neck hoping that evaporative cooling will work through the wool and rubber, and with the other, she wetted Mouse’s face through the eye holes. There was no way to pull down the hood to give her water. Mouse’s skin was cold and pale, but not clammy. Cathenne felt she had done all she could to help the girl.
But then, will whoever come back and release Mouse from this torture in time? She was to be home around midday, and whoever made her wear this all may not return soon enough. Mouse had to have something to drink. Cathenne went to her apartment to get her water bottle, but she was locked out. Je m'en fiche, this was all too complicated. She went back to Mouse and looked through the kitchenette.
Everything was for one person only. She went back into the bedroom and checked on Mouse; she looked better. Perhaps Mouse had something in the bedroom wardrobe. She did! Oh-my-Buddha, did she ever.
Mouse had a most amazing collection of boots, long knit dresses, knitted catsuits with hoods to match the dresses, cardigans, and leather mittens. In the next two wardrobes, it was rubber! Latex catsuits and dresses and a lot of that other stuff, and her underwear was rubber too. This was a fetish dream, including locks, sacks, mermaid costumes, and tiny corsets that would constrict a child’s waist. The dominant certainly kept Mouse under control and well stocked. She also found one of those breath control thingamajigs. Yes, that may work.
Cathenne bent the tube in half and poured water from the glass into the mouth end. No, that did not work, but what about? Cathenne poured the water back into the glass, then maneuvered the mouthpiece down through the eye, under the super tight rubber layers to in between Mouse’s lips. She drew Mouse’s chin down through the tough rubber and balaclava and managed the soft rubber snorkel-like piece past her lips and teeth.
Carefully, slowly, Cathenne trickled water into the tube and watched for a reaction. Yes, Mouse swallowed and did not choke. It took a few minutes before Mouse finished the water. Cathenne made her drink a second glass, then she looked for a pulse. She still did not find one through the thick mittens or at the neck. Where did Mouse work, that she could dress like this?
Mouse’s forehead felt dry and not clammy. But how long can she remain like this? Cathenne withdrew the mouthpiece carefully and wheeled Mouse to the bed with rubber sheets, pillows, and, yes, rubber straps running from the four corners. Cathenne had seen no punishment devices like whips or paddles or whatever, which was a small bonus. Her master did not beat Mouse, but this was bad enough. She removed the chair’s straps, put Mouse in bed, and drew a sheet over her, out of habit. What now?
Cathenne went to the living room to think. Well, it was well after midnight, and the concierge was asleep. Mouse seemed fine, but it was unsafe to leave her alone. Cathenne stood and went to check on Mouse, but she was alright, looking relaxed with some color around her eyes. What now? What now? Cela me soûle.
There was nothing for it; Cathenne would sleep on the daybed. Let’s see if it is as comfortable as it looks. She put out the lights, covered herself with Mouse’s angora wool dress, and was asleep in three nano seconds flat.
Condemned Victim
Mouse woke, feeling worn. She would not do that again. Nobody asked her to stay behind and finish the stock take. It was her choice, and she misjudged how disastrous it would be. Wait! Why was her wheelchair there? Fragments of a dream swirled in her mind of sparkling green eyes and a bonnet failing to keep a shock of red hair in place, and a pair of purple lips that made her thoughts go to places where her body can never go. Mouse wanted to get out of bed but was too weak. Was this the end that she secretly hoped for? Mouse relaxed and focused on the purple lips, green eyes, and red hair in a sea of black.
Since dear old uncle Fred, Sherrif McCafferty, raped Mouna Lisa in bed while babysitting, Mouna Lisa developed hypersensitive skin. It was psychological; it was psychosomatic; it was a lot of things, but anytime she came close to a man, even in passing, her skin crawled, itched and even developed sclerosis.
Of course, no one believed her and before any examination of her privates, she found herself in a madhouse. Dr. McCafferty and Psychiatrist Mrs. Dr. McCafferty sighed her into an asylum for delusional people, except that is not where she went. Mouna Lisa went to a special nunnery for girls with Cyclothymic disorders. Mouna Lisa also developed an allergy to all natural and usual clothing materials.
Oh, Mouna Lisa hated wearing surgical latex underwear, catsuits, and clothing. They had to restrain her in the chair, the same she still has. They gagged her, strapped her down, and sedated her. Mouna Lisa thought her life was over until Dr. Elizabeth Dubois came to treat her.
In their first meeting, Mouna Lisa, strapped tightly in the wheelchair, watched the beautiful, blue eyed, blond woman walk in. She wore a full nun habit but in white rubber latex. She moved so gracefully with her blue eyes sparkling under a stray lock of blond hair. She sat and looked at Mouna Lisa, strapped tightly in the chair also in a reverse straight jacket. She removed Mouna Lisa’s gag, drew down her rubber mouth and nose cover, put the gag in her mouth, strapped it firmly, then recovered her mouth and nose. All Mouna Lisa’s anger and frustration drained out of her.
Still with the gag in and over her mouth, Dr. Dubois released Mouse’s head and chest strap, then her thigh and ankle bindings. The doctor drew down her rubber mouth and nose cover, unfastened the gag and asked for Mouna Lisa to allow her to put it back in. Mouna Lisa nodded.
The doctor said, “If you cooperate with me and allow me to treat you, we will walk in the gardens by the weekend. The director specified conditions for this including special boots so that you cannot run, and a full rubber nun’s habit, like the nuns, wear not the patients. When everyone sees you cooperating, and you show that you wish to become better, you will be rewarded by additional freedoms. The staff and novice nun’s need to not be afraid of you and feel safe. Will you work with me to become better?” Mouna Lisa nodded.
Still with her arms up her spine, Mouse let the doctor help her out of the chair and stand. The doctor asked if she allowed the tightening of her arms behind her back. This will assure the people watching that she is cooperating. Mouna Lisa nodded.
While tightening Mouna Lisa arms further up her spine, the doctor whispered, “This will hurt so let people see that it hurts.” That was not a problem. Mouna Lisa would have screamed in agony were it not for the gag. “Sorry,” whispers the doctor added, “When we are from prying eyes I will massage your shoulders.”
Strapping off the arms, with tears running down Mouna Lisa’s cheeks, the doctor came around and asked, “You have not been eating so the director wants you intubated so that you will eat what you are given and take the medicines you need to get better.” To prove the doctor’s words about people watching, a female nun entered the padded room. The novice nun wore as the doctor, a nun’s habit all in a white, except in normal material.
The doctor removed Mouna Lisa’s gag and inserted a wide, long tube into Mouse’s breathing tube. It was unpleasant and a little painful but not the worst Mouna Lisa felt, her arms and shoulders still burning and throbbing. Then the doctor inserted a wider, much wider tube into Mouse’s food pipe and slid it down and down. That hurt so much that Mouna Lisa almost fainted.
Sitting behind Mouna Lisa to slowly push the long pipe in, the doctor called out, “As you see, everything is under control. I will do everything as you specified.”
“Click,” a voice on the speaker spoke, “Double up on the tube suits before dressing her in the novice rubber uniform. Click.” The orderly went away and came back with the pile of heavy rubber on her tray doubling.
The doctor was still working the tube down Mouna Lisa’s throat and whispered from behind, “My little brave mouse. If you cannot have what you love, love what you have. Understand?” Loader, she spoke, “May I continue, Mouna Lisa?” Mouna Lisa nodded. A large gasmask like device fitted to the two pipes, then the doctor worked the pipes further down Mouna Lisa's throat.
The doctor requested, “Mouna Lisa. I need you to open your mouth wide, then when I tell you, bite down on the gel with your teeth.” Mouna Lisa complied then the gel expanded in her mouth while the doctor explained, “This too is painful and awful, or you can embrace it and let it happen. No matter what, it will hurt for a long time but either you hate what you cannot change or you let it in.” it was so painful, that Mouna Lisa passed out…
She woke up and was still in the chair. The doctor was still there but the orderly nun was gone. As soon as she opened her eyes, the doctor whispered, “They are still watching and listening. I need to finish dressing you and then we go outside for a breath of fresh air.”
The doctor needed help to dress Mouna Lisa into the overly tight white suit and two nuns rushed in to help. They were not overly harsh, but the suit was. The director maliciously ordered heavier and smaller suits than needed. Mouna Lisa was in constant pain and tears and even the two orderly nun’s were moved. Once the second suit went over, Mouna Lisa passed out again…
A stern skinny tall nun in black habit walked in and demanded, “I want her body and arms bound with this corset. Orderlies, do this as you learned, then the doctor will do with the miscreant as she wills.”
The two orderlies curtseyed and spoke, “Yes, Mother McCafferty.”
They removed the first suit and put Mouna Lisa in the strict hard rubber, step in corset, posture, and shaping garment from the middle ages. Under the supervision of Mother Superior, they laced Mouna Lisa so tightly that even in unconsciousness she cried and tried to scream. Mother superior listened to Mouna Lisa breathing and when it became shallow, she allowed the orderly to stop.
With a satisfied smile, Mother Superior instructed, “She is to remain like this forever, doctor. I will send the specialist to connect her waste disposal inserts through her current rubbers. Please remember that we are many and the consequences if you step out of line.” She did not wait to see the doctor curtsey in acknowledgment…
Mouse
She woke, hurting all over, everywhere, everything. Her body and mind, filled with pain and burning, were incapable of conscious thought. Through this a voice spoke, “They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. Mouse, mouse, come out wherever you are and allow Mouna Lisa to rest.”
She was two people, one in utter pain and one unformed with wild raging emotions. She saw her mother and father, then the sheriff, the court case, everyone turning against her. Mouna Lisa was dying.
“They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. Mouse, mouse, come out wherever you are and allow Mouna Lisa to rest.” Who was Mouse?
Through all the delusions and illusions, horrors and memories, she saw a pair of wet eyes in a sea of white. “They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. Mouse, mouse, come out wherever you are and allow Mouna Lisa to rest.”
The sheriff was laughing, the judge was accusing, the stern nun was abusing but the blue eyes were crying. “They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. They trapped Mouna Lisa, but my mouse embraces it all. Mouse, mouse, come out wherever you are and allow Mouna Lisa to rest.” I am Mouse?
Despite it all, Mouse was in pain, so she focused on the blue eyes. The doctor in her rubber habit wiped her tears away then Mouse’s tears. They were outside, in the shade, Mouse in the chair and the doctor kneeling beside her. When Mouse looked about, the blue tired eyes lit up.
The doctor spoke insistently, “Mouse, you need to learn to walk and appear normal. Focus on learning what I teach you. Focus on being like everyone else. Focus on enjoying what you have. Do nothing other than that. When the time comes, I will substitute your medication and well, you will see.
A few weeks later, Mouse started her training. Weak as a fish out of water, forced to walk on elevated toe boots, Mouse learned to cope without arms. The two orderlies fed her twice a day through her tubes and connected to her wheelchair to dispose of her waste once a day. The doctor trained with her three times a day for two hours, the rest of the time Mouse was firmly strapped and connected to the wheelchair.
On Friday evenings, the doctor occasionally came and pushed Mouse around the large high walled nunnery asylum’s gardens. She was regular but not this Friday. The orderlies always brought Mouna Lisa out for the doctor, but the doctor did not arrive and Mouna Lisa stood on the pathway as the sun set.
The doctor, dressed in a mat, black bodysuit hood and soft boots, slowly pushed Mouse into the bushes and back out again. There sat Mouna Lisa, lifeless as if she had passed away. When the orderlies found her non-responsive, they informed the mother superior, who called the sheriff who transported the body to a crematorium for immediate cremation, rubber and all. Mouna Lisa was dead, long live Mouse!
The Pink Hairband Cooperative saved young women and was collecting evidence against the entire McCafferty clan but discovered far more. They handed the collected evidence to several offices and informed the FBI that they would release the documents and the details of the offices they informed if the FBI did not get its “shit together.” The FBI did what the FBI does in an election year and got its shit together quickly.
The doctor took Mouse home and slowly rehabilitated her, except Mouna Lisa was gone and only Mouse remained. Mouse liked what and how she was and aside from training her arms to regain strength, she wanted to change nothing. The doctor insisted that they remove the tubes, but even these Mouse wanted to keep. It was part of her.
The FBI needed statements from everyone concerned, including Mouse, so the doctor removed the tubes. It took a month before Mouse spoke a word. The whole matter was a formality for the doctor and mouse, as the family hid far more than the girls they enslaved and abused. As a victim of such horrific crime and rape, Mouse was awarded a large payout and a lifelong victims' pension. Part of Mouse’s rehabilitation was to move far, far away to a place where no one knew her.
And here she was a year later, still not entirely a full person and afraid to get out of bed with someone in her living room. Mouse heard footsteps!