Chapter 25: Halloween
“Yes, I’m at the Holiday Inn on Upper James – I’m in the lobby dressed as Batgirl; you can’t miss me. See you soon!”
I put my cellphone away in one of the many pouches of the utility belt. I stood in the lobby of the hotel feeling rather self conscious. Covered head to toe in skin-tight black spandex, my face hidden, wearing a cape. However, the other guests either ignored me or gave approving nods. Thank God it was Halloween. At one point a pair of young women in short tight “sexy superhero” costumes saw me, shrieked with delight and insisted we take a group selfie together. I smiled under the mask, feeling a bit better after that. Perhaps my sister’s CBD gummy, which I had snatched from her after deciding to make this trip, was finally kicking in?
I had decided, rather at the last minute, to drive from Ottawa to come to the annual Institute Halloween party. I had shared with Margaret my concerns about the new inspector and her brash ways. I felt the need to see the Institute for myself. It was just… irresponsible of me to only rely on old incomprehensible reports and on the word of a new inexperienced employee.
I rubbed my temple as I thought about this so-called Institute. I had been promoted last year to Assistant Deputy Minister at the Federal Ministry of Health, and I had inherited this file. My predecessor hadn’t been interested, the Inspector (whose job was to look into things) was off sick. To make things worse, his old reports were complete gibberish. But I had too many responsibilities and I neglected the file for a while.
Recent events had changed my perspective. A new Inspector, a young woman named Judith had gotten the position somehow and was a real keener – made some brash moves, got media attention, and I realized I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
And what a mess it was. Someone - known as "the Baron" and never identified, although apparently possessor of vast wealth and power - had kidnapped over a hundred women, and had subjected them to terrible brain washing, conditioning and other types of torture. There definitely was a strong sexual angle to it, with bondage, sensory deprivation, lots of latex… This treatment had left most of the victims with long term effects and they needed care – the Institute.
When the case had been exposed, almost eight years ago now, there had been great public outrage. The Baron was never found, and speculations of cover up at multiple levels were rampant. The families of some of the victims formed an association and mounted a lawsuit, and the federal and provincial authorities had no choice but to reach a generous settlement.
One of the results of this lawsuit was a commitment to the long-term care of the victims, leading to the creation of the Institute. Physically, it was set up in an old convent - the old stone building was the very same which the Baron and his allies had used to commit their perverted crimes. Since the ownership of the building was so tangled that no one could determine who owned it, the government had simply seized it. No one objected to this "wise cost cutting measure” but I couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a mistake. The province funded it, and the feds provided oversight – the Inspector, my new brash employee. Thus, my desire to see the place for myself.
However, Margaret had pointed out that dropping in unannounced could be perceived as a lack of trust and had suggested the Halloween party as a compromise. Apparently, it was a good time to visit, the event often had a few outside visitors, like members of the Family Association. The old inspector went to all of them, and Margaret was certain that the new one – Judith Johnson – would be there too.
The young women’s enthusiasm in the lobby had cheered me up and made me feel better about my outfit choice. I hadn’t been to a costume party in years; I knew that some kind of mediocre, improvised costume, cobbled together from stuff I had at home, simply wouldn’t do – Margaret had warned me that they took costuming fairly seriously at the Institute. And I certainly didn’t want one of those cheap “sexy X” costumes that you could find anywhere – sure it was fine for young people partying, but it would have felt disrespectful… and I was too old to show that much skin anyway.
I had spent the last two days looking for a suitable outfit, and out of desperation I had gone to a high-end costume rental place. They did a lot of cosplay, and I decided that Batgirl (Batwoman? Was there a difference?) would be a good “fit” for the event. Unfortunately, because it was Halloween a lot of the Batgirl costumes had been rented out already, and due to my height, the remaining ones didn’t fit me either.
The store clerk then found something for me – apparently there was a “special” Batgirl, named Cassandra Cane, with some convoluted mute assassin backstory which he was very eager to share. There was more than one Batgirl? After taking a few measurements, he declared that it would fit me… and then charged me $250, which seemed outrageous, but I was glad just to have a decent outfit for the party.
I looked at myself in a mirror in the lobby, and I was glad my face was hidden and that I was out of Ottawa. The outfit covered me head to toe, my face hidden by a layer of spandex, even the eyes! Definitely the “dark batman” vibe and not the goofy 60s era one. The store clerk had assured me that there was a patch of thinner fabric around the eyes and that I would be able to see fine, which seemed to be only a slight exaggeration. It was like wearing dusty shades, I guess. I almost asked for something else, but then I thought about what the patients were wearing and decided to stick with it. They were covered too, right? Heck, I might even be able to observe the new inspector for a bit without her realizing who I was!
But it was… a lot. The outfit was made of shiny spandex yes, but was stitched together with many panels, subtly sculpting my body. There were cups for my breasts (and I was wearing a padded bra because I didn’t want my nipples to show, so it gave me a rather impressive bust), there was a sort of integral corselet thing I could lace to give me a smoother waist – there even were some kind of stitching that seemed to act like a sort of push-up bra for my behind, which I had to admit had never looked so good. Enhancing the effect was shading on the costume that gave the illusion I was more muscular and cut than I really was. I didn’t have a six-pack, but apparently this Batgirl did!
The only color on the outfit was the Batman logo – in black but with a yellow outline, and the utility belt which was in all yellow (why was that?). As the outfit had no pockets whatsoever, I really did appreciate all the room for my wallet, phone and such.
The door opened and Margaret stepped into the lobby. “Sorry I’m late, there was a lot of – wow, look at you! That’s awesome, you look so good! They are going to love it, I’m sure of it!” she exclaimed.
I smiled – I did try to work out regularly, and I felt my figure wasn’t bad for my age, although the costume really took it to another level entirely. I was fully covered but it was revealing in a way. I was glad for the anonymity the hood provided. “And what are you dressed as, again?” I asked her. She was wearing a leopard print catsuit, along with a shiny corset, black heeled booties and a large pointy hat.
“Oh, just some kind of vaguely sexy witch. There is no point in trying to compete with the patients, each year a few of them have mind blowing outfits,” replied Margaret. “And… the face covering gives me the creeps a bit – oh no you look fine, it’s just… well you’ll see. It’s fine tonight, it’s Halloween, it makes it easier to handle, but… yeah.”
Ha! It seemed that Margaret hadn’t made nearly as much costuming effort as she had implied was necessary. Some kind of prank? Or had my overachieving ways simply gotten the best of me again? As we walked to her car, I asked her, “And what is Judith dressing as?”
“Oh, that’s a big secret,” said Margaret, somewhat smugly. I had ordered her not to tell Judith about my visit, and I briefly wondered if Margaret was being coy as a form of petty revenge.
My silence must have clued her in as she added quickly, “it’s a big thing at the Institute, the reveal of new costumes. Now not everyone will have a new outfit – I’ve worn this one three years in a row – but it’s her first Halloween event so I’m pretty sure she’s going to go big.” I wondered what that meant exactly, but I supposed I was going to find out soon enough.
On the drive there I felt jitters – what was I getting into? My sister’s CBD gummy didn’t seem to be doing much, and I sent her a short text asking how long they took to work.
“What CBD gummies,” she texted back “All I have are 25 mg THC gummies I got from a First Nations dispensary. Oh, you thought they were CBD because I keep them in this old package of legal products? LOL, have fun big sister!” Great, just great. I supposed it was my fault for not having the guts to ask her about it and just nabbing one last time I had seen her. Well, I had smoked weed a few times in my youth, so I had some idea what to expect at least.
We were now on a rural road – the Institute was isolated, and soon enough we arrived at the rear entrance – a rather foreboding eight feet stone wall, with an old metal gate. Margaret sent a quick text and after a few minutes of wait, quietly said “here we go”, as the metal gate noisily sprung to life. She drove her small car through the gap, and as we drove on, tires crunching on the gravel, the gate closed behind us with a clang.
“That wasn’t ominous at all,” I commented wryly. I hoped the THC wasn’t making me paranoid.
“Oh, this place gives me the creeps,” replied Margaret, “but this year the party is outside the building at least. It’s supposed to be the warmest Halloween in twenty years! Anyway, being outside should help a bit. And the staff is genuinely friendly.”
It sounded a bit to me like she was trying to reassure herself almost as much as she was reassuring me. I remembered from reading her file that she had made a deal with the old inspector that she wouldn’t have to physically work in the Institute. It seemed a bit fussy, but then I remembered those first two replacement inspectors who had each quit a week after starting…
“The weather sure has been all over the place. So, what can I expect at this party?” I asked.
“Oh, in many ways it’s just a regular costume party. So, music, conversation, snacks, dancing, no booze – although there is this fluid you shouldn’t drink without asking about it first, Judith made that mistake once haha. The outfits are going to be something else. Most of it will be rubber, of course. Aaand we’re there,” said Margaret.
Fluid?
The long, narrow forest road was finally opening up to the Institute’s back yard. A few vehicles were parked at the back, and the rest of the parking lot had been converted into an outdoor party area. Tables had been set up on the sides with various party supplies. There were a few Halloween-ish decorations, and a DJ, all dressed in black with some kind of glowing cat ear helmet, was already playing tunes. Not a very big budget operation, but there was just enough to make it festive.
The parking lot was covered in fine gravel and seemed to serve as the dance floor. The back of the building, all of pale blue-grey stone, formed the backdrop. To the left, at the edge of the light, was a copse of trees. On the right, on a 5-foot stone plinth, stood a statue of a sister – or maybe the Virgin Mary – in pale stone, the face almost faded away due to age. Dozens of patients were already mingling, some dancing already. I could see clearly someone who seemed to be wearing a black catsuit and a red ball gag. What kind of costume was that?
“It looks like the party has started, do you see Judith?” I asked
“I don’t see her no… but she’s probably going to do a reveal a bit later. That’s often what happens with the flashiest costumes,” she answered. “Ah I see some of the staff, let’s go talk to them.” We parked at the edge and made our way forward.
A tall woman – taller than me! – walked forward to greet us. She was wearing a sort of military dress uniform in dark green, a cap over very short curly hair. She walked confidently in heels that definitely weren’t military-issue – in fact, her entire demeanor exuded an almost regal confidence.
“That’s Renee, the administrator – isn’t she gorgeous?” whispered Margaret. I was glad for the information, although I felt it was a bit odd that Margaret would comment on her appearance… although she truly was striking.
“Hello Margaret!” she said smiling. She then turned to me and stated “I am Renee Bailey, welcome to the annual Institute Halloween party. I must admit I hadn’t recognized you under your costume…”
“I am Madeleine Steward, a pleasure meeting you. I am an ADM at the Federal Ministry of Health. I’m Miss Johnson’s supervisor, in other words,” I replied. “That is a rather authentic-looking uniform, although I don’t recall them being so shiny?
Renee chuckled. “Ah, that would be because it’s made of latex – you’re going to see a lot of rubber tonight. It’s otherwise authentic however.”
“Even the medals?” I asked, frowning.
“Oh yes – they are mine you see. I perhaps should have said: Major Renee Bailey, USA Engineering corp. I was in the area when this place was discovered, oh, almost eight years ago now, and I had experience with somewhat similar situations and I offered my assistance. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it’s become my career.”
Why would the US Army assign an officer here? How peculiar. But this wasn’t the time for such questions. I would have to follow up later.
Renee led us to a small group chatting on the side beside one of the tables, and Renee did the introductions. One of them seemed vaguely dressed like some kind of mad scientist, with a white double breasted lab coat – rubber of course – brick-colored gloves and a hood of white latex, with decorative trim in the same brick color. Curly pigtails of pale red hair completed the look.
“Dr Reed, I presume?” I asked and she nodded.
“What brings you to our Institute?” she asked – not one to beat around the bush it seemed.
“As you know, inspector Johnson is a very new employee. I’m also relatively new to my position, and given the previous inspector’s illness, I realized I actually knew very little about this place. I wanted to see it for myself, and see how Judith is doing,” I replied.
“Ah, Miss Johnson has been a delight,” replied Dr Reed, “we are very glad to have her. This can be a challenging work environment, but she’s taking it in stride. She’s already provided some very valuable insight. And the patients like her very much. I hear rumors she has a very impressive costume tonight.”
“And where is she?” I asked, looking around. The crowd was slowly growing, with both the conversations and dancing growing more energetic. The DJ was playing electronic music of some kind; colored lights were going… woah… I think the gummy was hitting me a bit. Almost everyone had their face covered, finding Judith here would be tricky at best.
“I don’t think she’s come out yet,” said another woman, “only half the people have come out so far. She’s probably going to make an entrance.” This woman was wearing a black and red outfit, some kind of stylized jester? She was far shorter than Renee or I, but had generous curves, and had introduced herself as “Carol, but everyone calls me Red.”
“What do you do here, uh, Red?” I asked. Her face was entirely covered in a sort of jester’s hood – the face was covered with a white panel and black diamonds over the eyes – there must have been some kind of opening allowing her to see, perhaps something similar to my mask? The only skin visible was her mouth and lips, which were covered in black and red lipstick, carefully applied, matching the black and red theme of her jester’s outfit.
“Officially I’m a representative of the Family Association – I volunteered because my sister was one of the victims see– but in reality, I’m an admin assistant, I work here full time. I do a lot of quality control, it’s a lot of work keeping this place going at times,” she explained.
“And what is going on here?” I asked, as I saw some of the patients wheeling out others who were lying on stretchers, wearing… body bags?
Dr Reed answered. “As you know, the Baron’s treatment of these women resulted in the great majority of them becoming essentially catatonic. We have devised a treatment regiment to return them to reality, but it takes time. The patients on the stretchers are still early in the process; they can’t really interact with the outside world.”
“I see – so why bring them to the party?” I replied
“A good question. Even though they are not fully conscious, we believe that this kind of activity – overhearing the music, the conversations – can help prepare their minds for the next step,” explained the Doctor. “Besides, being here in the back means one patient doesn’t have to stay behind to keep an eye on them. It isn’t safe to leave someone in such heavy bondage without supervision.”
I nodded. I was going to follow up when I heard a bit of a commotion at the back of the building. Someone had stepped outside and a lot of the other patients were making a big deal about it. “And what is this?” I inquired
“Oh! That’s Patty!” exclaimed Red. “Ooh her outfit looks so good… I’ll ask her to come over,” she added, waiving.
It took this woman a number of minutes to make her way, pausing frequently to talk to other patients, several of which seemed very happy to see her. As she drew near, I finally got a good look; she was dressed as Catwoman, the Michelle Pfeiffer version. She seemed to wear it with relish – her eyes were shining, and her mouth was open in a radiant smile. Everything else was covered in shiny rubber with white stitches. She seemed to be used to heels as she waived and stepped confidently towards us.
“Hey, this is the Batman corner? Great Cassandra, by the way!” she said as a form of greeting.
“Uh hi, yes, you look good too,” I answered somewhat warily. Who was this Patty person again? Curse those gummies!
“Isn’t it amazing?” said Patty enthusiastically. “This is my first outfit in it and I think I am getting the appeal. But I really like yours too!” she added a bit belatedly, “And goes great with you Red, we are indeed matching!”
Following a few more minutes of chatter, I finally connected the dots and jumped in. “So, ah, Patty, you’re the patient Judith spoke to last week?” I asked. “…the journalist?” I added, might as well get it out in the open.
Patty shrugged “I’m not sure I see myself as a patient, seeing as I was never treated at the Institute. As far as a journalist – yes, or trying to be at least. It’s a tough business.”
I nodded. “Well, you had quite the scoop two days ago! I hope I won’t disappoint you by saying you can’t quote me on anything tonight? I’m just here to observe and learn.”
Patty shrugged again “Of course. Besides, a lot of what happens here should stay private. Not everyone is open minded. We could do an interview another day.”
I had no intention of accepting that offer, so I deflected. “I understand you’re moving to the Institute?”
Patty nodded “Yes. I won’t lie that the free rent was a factor, but it’s mostly to help me make a documentary about the Institute and my experience. I hope we can get a grant, and perhaps that’s something…no I’m sorry, this isn’t the night to talk shop.”
I nodded but then noticed a flash of light coming from behind us – another car was showing up, a Lexus.
Out stepped a woman, almost as tall as I was, thin with angular features and reddish hair, elaborately curled up on her head. She was wearing a short latex dress and gauntlets, both black and laced up, with a strip of color under the lacing – pale blue, pale white, pale pink. The look was completed with a choker and knee-high platform boots and fishnets. The effect was quite… gothy, although the colors softened it somewhat.
She took a few hesitant steps forward but stepped forth more confidently when Renee called out her name – Michelle.
She came over and nodded and waived at our little group – but then gasped at Patty. “Are you Patty? Patty McBoland?” she almost squealed. As Patty answered in the affirmative, she continued “Ah, I’m so happy to meet you! You saved my sister and all the other patients; you are a hero of mine!”
Patty has seemed quite confident, but she had clearly been taken aback by the praise.
Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Michelle turned to me and extended her hand. “So that was Catwoman, now we have Batgirl. Hello, I’m Michelle, I’m a member of the Family association.”
The Family Association was a group of relatives of the victims. They had organized quickly and had been quite effective in forcing the government into a financial settlement that made the Institute possible in the long term. They hadn’t been as active in the last few years, but… I would have to be careful.
“Hello Michelle, nice to meet you. I’m Madeleine, I’m inspector Johnson’s superior. I thought I would come here to take a look for myself. Judith has spoken of your, you’re Nadia’s sister I believe?”
“Ah, you have me at a disadvantage I’m afraid… but I must say I love your costume! Wow you government types really dress up when called upon!” she replied.
“Ah, uh, this isn’t an everyday thing for me, I just wanted a costume that wasn’t a $20 Walmart “sexy something”. I hadn’t realized that Batman would be so popular here, it’s just a happy coincidence,” I replied.
Patty interjected “Oh no, Batman sucks! He’s a billionaire, and his answer to crime is to… dress up and punch crooks in the face? Riiiight, totally normal, healthy and productive approach!”
I was slightly taken aback, but Red smoothed things over a bit by adding “Batman sucks, but there are many much better characters in the comic – like you too, or Harlequin – I’m the Joker’s ex-girlfriend!”
“Oh yes, from the movie, I think? I’m sorry, I’m not very current with superheroes, there are too many!”
Trying to change the subject somewhat, I turned again to Michelle, “and what is your costume?”
“This old thing? Oh, this is from my goth phase a few years ago. This is my first Halloween party here, I think I didn’t quite get the assignment, it’s just a latex outfit. Well, I guess you could say I’m a trans flag haha,” she replied.
The colors, her angular features… right. “I believe Judith was telling me your sister is returning to the Institute?” I asked.
Her face was troubled for an instance, then seemed to relax. “Yes. Judith’s visit was quite timely, it helped us face the fact that, well, it wasn’t quite working out. But, sigh, that’s ok – I think she will be happier here, and I intend to get more involved with the Institute myself, lend a hand so to speak.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” said Renee. I let the others discuss this announcement for a few minutes but then interjected. “Your sister Nadia, will she be joining us?”
I had to admit I was curious about this patient returning to the Institute. Would she be the only one? I knew Judith intended to visit all the ex-patients, and it was a good idea, but would there be consequences?
“Oh, she hasn’t come out yet” replied Michelle. “Her costume is going to, ah, knock our collective socks off, or so she claims. I sort of know what it’s going to be, and … you’ll see!”
Once again, there was a bit of a commotion near the back of the building – someone else was coming out – someone short, in a dark outfit with some kind of large hat – a helmet? As she made her way towards us, I got a better look- there was a cape, some kind of electronics on her chest… some kind of stumpy Darth Vader?
“Ah, join us River, here is Madeleine, Judith’s supervisor,” said Renee to introduce us. River was by far the shortest person here, and her short stumpy pink light saber made the effect more comical than menacing. She was typing rather quickly on her chest, and I could sort of hear something, but the music was too loud. She then began gesticulating to Renee, who turned towards me.
“River can’t speak so she uses a keyboard with a digital voice synthesiser. However, the music is a bit too loud, so she will communicate using sign language and I will translate for her. She’s bidding you welcome and saying how wonderful it has been to have Judith here,” explained Renee.
“Ah I see! Nice to meet you, River. Speaking of Judith, has she come out yet?”
River shook her head – no need for translation for that – but the conversation was interrupted by Red, who signed something at River, some kind of jest or jibe. River drew her short wobbly light saber, which started emitting a loud hum, and swung it back and forth at Red while leaning forward, which allowed Red to extend her arm and keep River at bay.
The scene seemed familiar… the ridiculously big helmet… was that a short tie? Darth Vader didn’t wear a tie! I then burst out laughing when I realized that River wasn’t dressed as Darth Vader, but Dark Helmet from Spaceballs. That edible must have really kicked in as it took me a few minutes to regain my composure. Damn my sister and her black-market gummies. Although… she probably would be jealous a bit when I described this party to her. The coloured light, my vision through the mesh was a thousand little windows, enhancing the effect.
More and more patients were dancing – I saw one in blue doing a ballerina routine, she was really good. I saw a patient dressed like a robot in the back – her costume looked amazing, gleaming in the light, but the other patients didn’t seem to react too much to it, perhaps a repeat? It was also clear that a few patients weren’t really participating, but were rather part of the “staff” – moving from one table to the next, refilling snacks and drinks. I didn’t see any alcohol, but there were large bowls of this creamy looking liquid, which numerous patients seemed to be taking.
Margaret must have noticed me looking and signaled me to get closer. “I think that’s the nutrition fluid of some kind I told you about earlier. Some of the patients can’t handle solid food and eat only that.” I muttered my thanks. Even today, years after the ordeal was over? Perhaps some kind of permanent damage, or muscle atrophy?
One of the “servant” patients drew closer – well I assumed at first she was one, based on the maid-like nature of her outfit and her behavior… but she seemed a lot more animated than the other servants, and the other patients were having quite the reaction to her appearance. And her outfit was… silver colored? It was hard to tell in this light. I pointed her out to Margaret who shrugged, clearly not knowing who it was.
“Is that… patient 115?” asked Red as the silver-coloured maid drew closer. “It is!” she then squealed, and she rushed forward to hug the silver maid, followed by River and Renee.
Dr Reed looked rather pleased at this turn of events and turned to us to explain. “This is patient 115, she has been a “cleaning drone” for over a year, but it was clear to me that she was getting very close to a major breakthrough. It’s common for patients who have made such a major step to announce it with a new outfit. It seems this is what she is doing right now. Let’s go meet her!”
I followed Dr Reed, who proceeded to give patient 115 a big hug. “Hello, I’m so happy to meet you. Tell us about yourself” she said, smiling broadly.
The maid took a step back and did a spin, clearly happy to show us her new look. At first glance, it was a fairly straightforward latex maid outfit, but silver colored. Further examination revealed that it was a bit more severe – her body was covered in several locked straps of some sort, and her face was entirely covered with a hood, along with a locked collar around her neck. There didn’t seem to be any holes, although clearly she could see and breathe somehow. She was a bit shorter than I was, but her heels meant we were at eye height, well if either of your eyes had been visible. This whole facelessness business was very odd, but I suddenly felt like I “got” it somehow. It was freeing to be here but be… anonymous at the same time.
The maid began using sign language to communicate, with Red translating again.
“She says hello, that she is happy to have woken up, and credits Judith for it. Her name is …ha, she has chosen the name of Silver!” I could tell from the exchange that Silver seemed… rusty with her sign language. As the others excitedly attempted to converse with her, I leaned forward a bit and asked Dr Reed to explain what had just occurred.
“I can see she’s struggling with sign language, why doesn’t she just talk to us?” I asked.
“A good question. One of the, ha, ‘bondage innovations’ the Baron came up with was a sort of… throat valve. The gel cube was very suitable for long term bondage, but there was a risk – what if a patient became nauseous? No way to escape or even communicate distress. Vomiting in such a state could have resulted in aspiration in the lungs, even death. His creation essentially separated the digestive track from the breathing track. It also operated as a sort of gag, as the vocal cords were essentially suppressed by the presence of the valve. It can take a few years of training before the patients can speak properly again, if at all – several older patients will probably not be able to speak ever again,” explained the Doctor.
“I see. And what does she mean by… woken up?” I asked.
“As you probably know, the cubing process, after some time, essentially rendered the patients catatonic. But the Baron left a ‘back door’ – a way to turn some of his captives into ‘helpers’, so to speak. He used some of the patients as brainwashed servants – drones is the term – to help him manage his collection of victims. Pretty evil stuff, but there was a silver lining – no pun intended. I’ve been using this opening to help bring the patients out of catatonia, once they are physically ready. But even at that stage, they are still ‘trapped’ within themselves, drones. But given enough time, most of them emerge from this state, although exactly in what mental shape they are is highly variable,” replied Dr Reed. “It would appear that, from what I’m gathering, that Patient 115’s inner self has ‘broken out’, and can now interact with the outside world, which is a major breakthrough in her recovery.”
“That’s… quite convoluted, but it’s certainly better than lying in a body bag” I replied. “Could she return to society now?”
“Unfortunately, no, at least not yet. There is a lot of work to do, to process the trauma and to build a new identity. It seems that Silver is quite comfortable, at least for now, in continuing in her previous role as a cleaning drone – but as herself, not as a mind controlled, brainwashed drone.”
Dr Reed continued “Sometimes it turns out differently. River over there is essentially a self-aware drone. Her inner self is still locked away inside.”
“So, like a double personality?”
Dr Reed wobbled her head a bit “More or less”.
I shuddered a bit. “This is pretty heady stuff, I hadn’t realized…”
“My methods are very… unusual, and they take time, but I’m confident that given a few more years, the great majority of patients will return to some semblance of normality.”
As Silver left, clearly having a great time offering drinks and snacks with exaggerated emphasis, I looked around again. At least half the patients were dancing by now, their black shiny bodies reflecting the coloured lights, interweaving with one another… it was hard to tell many of them apart. The… erotic tension suddenly hit me, and I blushed deeply – how could I think like that, given what had happened? But it was undeniable that there was a dark beauty to many of them. I suddenly was very glad that my outfit hid my face so effectively.
A few minutes later, once again, there was a hubbub – a patient in a new costume, perhaps Judith? The back door was opened dramatically and out came… What was I seeing?
A long dark shape crawled out of the door. A hush fell. Whatever it was, it was huge. Then the front reared up… was this some kind of giant worm costume? Then the shape pulsed, undulated… a bulge moved upward. A party light shined on it momentarily – I saw a dark green pattern – scales?
Two long things – horns? – emerged from the top. Another smaller bulge… a head! Those were arms?! A body emerged, glistening, it too seemed to be covered in a scaly pattern. It reared up above the crowd. I couldn’t tell where the body ended, and the … snake?! began.
“Nadia the Naga!” someone yelled out, almost a gasp. The patients all started undulating in rhythm with the snake, repeatedly waiving and twisting their arms into the sky, as in worship of this bewildering apparition.
The reactions in our group were a bit … different. Dr Reed and Renee were obviously taken aback, River and Red were fascinated, Patty flabbergasted. Margaret yelped and hid behind a car. Michelle simply smiled and said, “See, I told you it was something special”.
Me? I blinked and blurted “Am I tripping balls? What’s going on?”
Michelle explained. “That’s Ancalagon – Nadia’s pet anaconda. She’s had her most of her life and has trained her to an astounding degree.”
“She lets that snake SWALLOW HER?” I almost yelled.
Michelle’s smile faltered a bit. “I didn’t know about this until last week. She’s been doing it for months, but I didn’t know… I still have trouble believing it, this is … well damn.”
At this point, the snake-patient combo was done slithering down the stairs, and she was gliding imperiously amongst the patients, towering over them, who still reacted to the spectacle with awe. I could see her a bit better. She was wearing a simple catsuit that somehow had the same black and green scaly pattern that the snake had. The snake held her by the hips, its head and neck pointing skyward – when the light dimmed the resulting silhouette made it seem like the head of the snake and her hips were one and the same. Her face was covered by an open face hood (I later learned it actually was a transparent panel over her face) but topped with what looked a bit like a little crown? That, combined with the height she had and her regal demeanor… not a person, but some supernatural being of old, a dark queen… damn the weed was hitting me.
“…That’s… that’s a patient?!” exclaimed Margaret “I, uh, I’m not going to go over and say hello” she added as she slowly came out from her hiding place.
“Maker did an amazing job on that catsuit,” Red said, “look at the pattern! She’s the person who designs and crafts our latex outfits,” she added, turning towards me.
Dr, Reed said softly “That was truly… remarkable. I think we are seeing language being created on the spot. See that arm undulating motion the patients are doing, the two arms coming out? That may be a new sign word being created. “Emergence” or something closely related I would hazard to guess.”
Was the doctor implying that the patients had their own sign language? I… I didn’t know what to think about that, but it was clear that they had created their own rituals, their own culture.
And was it ok to have a giant snake here? I would have to think about that later. Part of me was still struggling to accept what I had just seen. But there she was, gliding above the crowd. The snake was still holding her up, and now that I was looking at her more intently, I realized she was seemingly guiding it by gentle touches. The other patients gave the centaur-like being a bit of a wide berth, probably a good idea.
Some time passed. By now the THC gummy was affecting me in full, and I have to admit things were getting pretty trippy. The flashing lights and countless voices were becoming a bit much to handle. Maybe I should ask Margaret to take me home? But I wanted to see Judith first.
I asked the group around me “So where is the Inspector? Where is Miss Johnson? Wasn’t she supposed to be here?”
Renee answered. “Huh. She should have come out by now, no point in waiting so long to make an appearance. I’m pretty sure everyone has come out. Even if her costume had failed somehow, she would have time to change into her day-to-day outfit by now, strange…” She started scrutinizing the crowd intently. “No, that’s clearly Patchy… beside Gabby? Nah. Is she pretending to be DJ92? No that’s not her…”
She had a day-to-day outfit? I wondered what that was, but I never got to ask.
“The statue…” Renee then said softly.
“Pardon me?” I replied.
“The statue. There is no statue,” she explained.
“The statue is right there, what are you talking about?” I retorted. I was way too high to figure out what the hell she was babbling about.
“There is no statue – I mean there shouldn’t be one, it was never installed. That statue isn’t a statue, it’s Judith!” replied Renee. As I looked on, puzzled, she shouted in a startlingly loud voice, “THE STATUE! LOOK EVERYONE, JUDITH IS THE STATUE!”
Pandemonium broke out as several dozen patients all turned at one and started exclaiming and shouting, clapping their hands and gesticulating. Judith was the statue? Amazing, she had stood there for hours, waiting for us to notice! Just how crazy was this gal?
***
As usual, Maker’s work had been impeccable. When I had explained to her my idea, she had immediately jumped on board and had suggested some interesting additions to make the effect even more convincing.
I had decided I was going to be a statue. When it was decided to have the party outside this year because of how mild the forecast was, I had realized I had a great opportunity: there was the stone plinth in the parking lot in the back, a match for the two in the front, but a planned statue had never been installed on it. Pretending to be one for a bit and then waving at the crowd sounded like such a fun reveal. I also had been thinking that my first outfit, even while wearing a catsuit underneath, had been a bit too… timid. I wanted bolder, heavier.
Maker had created a new dress, similar to the older one, but this one with sleeves (thinner than the body), thicker latex on the torso and legs, and somewhat tighter – it wasn’t quite a hobble skirt, but it did shorten my step. I was wearing gloves and high heeled boots, of course. The new hood covered my face entirely, with micro-perforations allowing me to see and breathe. The design was clever, and my facial features were vague, as if the rain and wind had slowly eroded them away, just like a statue. It also looked a bit like I was trapped behind a surface, with my face trying (and failing) to break through. I really liked the effect, and what it implied. Accompanying this was a thick corset, which was connected to a posture collar that covered my shoulders. Maker had inspired herself from a European latex manufacturer named HW design. I wanted the additional restriction, constriction.
All this was made possible by the pale blue-grey latex, almost white, that Maker had obtained a while back. It matched the stone of the Institute building, making the look almost flawless.
Of course, this didn’t quite look like a religious statue, so Maker had created an extra layer on top, to hide the kinkier elements: a looser, more flowing set of robe and coif, meant to mimic the habit of a catholic nun. As I was still wearing my thin transparent catsuit underneath, it resulted in most of my body being covered by three or four layers of latex, with the exception of my hands and face of course.
The end result was quite intense, and I loved the effect. I was… constrained, trapped even, under the latex. I honestly wasn’t sure I would be able to take it off, I wasn’t flexible enough to undo the corset. It felt… right.
I had set up in the back an hour before anyone else had shown up, with the help of Maker’s assistants, who were in on the surprise but all sworn to secrecy. I had been practicing my statue act – my immobility – and I think I was actually pretty good at it. I had been worried that the wind might make the latex flutter, but it hadn’t seemed to be a problem so far. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to snack for a while, I had had a big glass of nutrition fluid, and I welcomed its effects.
To stay focused on immobility, I had created a sort of “circular logic” mantra that I kept repeating in the back of my mind. Immobility is orgasmic. To come is to freeze. Immobility is orgasmic. To come is to freeze…
The sun set, the flashing lights and music started, the party was under way. I expected that within an hour or so someone would have remembered that the stone plinth didn’t have a statue on it, realise that the robe-clad, faded pale statue of a sister was not a statue, that it was me. But no. The dance just went on and on and on. From where I was standing, I could see most of the activities. I saw the patients, in black or multiple colors, sway and twirl, bend and pulse. The little clumps of conversation. Lights were shining off their curves, I stood on the stone plinth, immobile. It was remarkably easy to stay focused on being frozen.
I saw when a silver-colored drone came out – saw the reactions. Was it talking to Spyder in the shadows? Spyder surely seemed elated. I saw Nadia make her dramatic appearance, came out of the snake, and saw the sisters’ reaction. What an entrance, I was blown away. But the event only froze me further in place. I realized that I had done it too well. The thick rubber was fueling it. The joy and excitement I had from seeing Nadia’s entrance was fueling it. Every good thing confirmed that being immobile was my natural, fundamental state. And every instant of being frozen was a burst of joy. I hadn’t given any thought on how I was supposed to stop. It was about consent, and it seemed that I had hypnotized myself in loving immobility so much that it probably would require a life-or-death moment to convince me to break the immobility. Was I in trouble? I would wonder about that later.
But then things changed – I heard Renee’s excited shout, saw all the patients stop and look at me, and then start clapping their hands. I saw DJ92 stop the music and then put on the coordination song. And then all the other patients started doing the dance at me. We are forever in latex. So much pleasure. So tight. Deep into trance.
Each verse slammed into me, turning me into a statue. They just kept doing it and doing it.
***
I looked on, astonished, as the patients and several staff members rushed forward and started doing some kind of collective dance around the statue. Patty, Margaret and Michelle looked on too, bemused expressions on their faces.
River turned back towards us, and we drew closer so we could hear her vocabulator. “River, exactly what is going on here?” I asked, hoping to get some answers.
“Oh, we are just all excited to see Judith’s costume. That was so cool – and look at her, still pretending to be a statue!” she replied in a metallic voice.
“I told you that Judith was fully committed,” noted Margaret sagely.
“Ok, and what’s with this dance going on, and that repetitive music?” I asked.
“That is the coordination song,” intoned River. “This is a song that we use as a sort of pacemaker, to keep time. Some of our activities require precise coordination, and having this song helps us work together better. It’s sort of became an anthem too. Come – you too Michelle and Patty – I will teach it to you.”
I balked but Margaret said, “ah come on, all we’ve done so far is sit here, eat chips and chat. Let’s swing our hips a little bit.”
I snorted and nodded. Soon enough we were at the edge of the crowd, imitating the patients as well as we could. One patient with yellow gloves gave us some pointers, and soon enough we had the hang of it. I have to admit it was quite catchy, and we spent quite some time doing this Institute dance, lost in the moment.
***
The song, the dance, went on and on. The words, the signs, the melody, etched into my mind. I was forever in latex, forever frozen, deep into trance. It felt like I was losing the ability to perceive time, as the song looped again and again and again. I was a statue in truth. Well not really. But I probably would be stuck here until I passed out in a day or so. It seemed I was ok with this.
My resolve suddenly broke when I saw Renee in her military uniform approach me. “Ok Judith, well done, you can come down now.” My knees buckled as a great wave of fatigue came over me.
“Woah there – Ok I got you, I got you” said Renee as I almost collapsed in her arms. Oh my god it was so nice being carried by her. I wasn’t really sure what she was going to do with me, and at the moment, I really didn’t care.
I saw the party going on behind me, although it seemed like it was starting to break up. Huh, I wondered who was the tall one in the Batgirl costume?
***
“Well, that was dramatic,” I said dryly. After seeing the statue – Judith – swoon into Renee’s arms, it was obvious that I wouldn’t get to speak to the Inspector today. I chuckled. I couldn’t actually discipline her for that, this was off work hours, and she hadn’t known I was coming. However, I certainly could, ah, poke her with it ha. And she wouldn’t see me in this rather high state hehehe. But then a darker thought struck me: “Will she be okay?”
Margaret snorted “Oh I’m sure she will be! She looked like a mouse when she first showed up, but she quickly showed us how tough she really is. Besides, they have a doctor on staff, I’m sure that they will have her back on her feet. She’s probably just dehydrated. And Renee certainly knows what she’s doing.”
I nodded, as Margaret and I stepped away a bit. The DJ had put on a new song, and the sisters were now dancing with total abandon. I saw the sea of undulating, shining bodies, and a flush of heat came over me. What would it feel to be among them, for a night, for a life?
I rubbed my forehead. The THC must be getting to me or something… I didn’t trust myself staying here. “I think I’m done Margaret, we’ve said our hellos, I’ve seen enough”.
Margaret frowned and said, “are you okay, boss?” As I didn’t answer, she nodded softly and said “Yeah, it hit me hard the first time too. Let’s take you to the hotel.”
As we drove away, I sent a short text to my husband, ordering him to get over here ASAP – I wouldn’t wear the costume forever.
***
Renee’s heels resonated in the darkened corridor, as she carried me effortlessly in her arms as if I was but a child. I wanted to say something, but I seemed to be unable to order my thoughts. “Where are we going?” I managed to mumble.
“The bondage dormitory – you need to sleep it off, and I can’t let you sleep in such heavy latex unsupervised,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Oh okay.”
She gently put me down on one of the many cots in the dormitory, and then, for some reason, strapped me down to it – probably for safety reasons more than anything else, it would have been fairly easy to wiggle out of this had I wanted to. But no, I was ok with it. She then hooked me up to a sensor that would monitor my heart rate and oxygen levels.
“Sweet dreams” she whispered and walked away. I let out a soft sigh. Was I going to be able to sleep in such heavy gear, in bondage? Apparently yes, as I closed my eyes.
***
DJ92 was a night owl, and they were in charge of watching over the bondage dormitory that night after the party. Having a watcher was a wise precaution given the heavy bondage many of the patients sleeping in here were. But DJ92 was only human, despite their robotic demeanor, and had dozed off. It wasn’t too big a problem, as the patients were all wearing monitors who would start beeping loudly if the patient’s vital signs were amiss.
A shadow entered the dormitory, moving swiftly and quietly. Crouching, it approached Judith’s cot. A hand extended, briefly pressing buttons on her back. Judith, clearly sleeping under her heavy outfit, moaned and stiffened – no longer having the posture of someone at rest, but the rigid, column-like bearing of a statue.
DJ92 woke up with a start, looked around in a panic. All the monitors indicated normal signs, thank God. They shook their head, trying to wake up fully; clearly the evening’s performance had exhausted more than they had expected. Oh well, no harm done, but this was not ideal. Maybe a Red Bull next time?